Just saw a post on twitter from a hudconer with hundred of likes about whether they really believe in h&c relationship romantically and the majority is saying that they believe in their friendship and authentic love for each other but it won’t go beyond that cause they seem not the type who take risks.. or they will overcome this attraction.. however im quite surprised cause do people on twitter rpf for fun only or are we here on tumblr taking things too seriously?😂 cause I can’t do this rpf shit just to be illusion guys! What are those talking about there lmao
i know im like 2 days late to answering this (sorry yall i forgot i opened my asks lmao) but couldnt be fucking meeeee!!!! i would not have put up with the absolute HELL of the last 6 months if i was just rpfing for a silly little haha fun................. like are you fucking kidding me? ive been cancelled 20 times, gotten called the worst names under the sun, put into hate chains and block trains multiple times........ and yall think ima keep doing this for FUN because i just ~loOoOoOoOve~ their FRIENDSHIPPPPPP???? YEAH FUCKING RIGHT IM HERE TO BE A FIGHTER FOR TRUE LOVE BITCHES AND THOSE OF YOU HERE FOR A SILLY LITTLE FUN FRIENDSHIP TIME NEED TO HOP THE FUCKKKKK ON OUT OF MY SPACE THIS SHIT IS #STAFFONLY #REALBITCHESONLY #HUDCONDOWNFORREALONLY
Since there is both some genuine confusion and also some people with ulterior motives attempting to create confusion, let's do a quick review of two different kinds of scenarios involving paparazzi photos.
Scenario A: Paps find out that a certain celeb or celebs are in town and independently choose to seek out said celebs because they know that photos of them will sell, particularly if it's a situation where two celebs who are popular individually and even more popular as a duo are hanging out together in public for the first time in awhile. The celebs in question will be aware that if they're out in public a lot they will most likely be spotted and photographed by fans and that they may also get papped while out and about, but there is no direct coordination with either celeb's PR team to make sure that it happens.
Scenario B: A celeb's PR team reaches out to the paps and arranges to have them show up at a specific time and location, like for a totally random example let's say a beach, to capture specific photos that said PR team wants to put out there to further a specific narrative that they're shaping. These photo shoots are usually confined to a specific narrow time frame and/or one specific activity that the paps are supposed to capture, and while the idea is to maintain some deniability and make it seem like the paps just happened to be at the right place at the right time, it's usually pretty easy to tell that the hand of PR was actually pulling the strings.
As I said, I think there are some people who genuinely don't know the details of how these kinds of things work, but there is also some pretty transparent desperation from certain corners to pretend that certain situations are exactly the same as others when they're clearly not and there's no reason to entertain any of that.
dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader | wc: 2.3K | read on AO3
Summary: your dad invites his best friend Joel over to watch the baseball game, with no clue that Joel's been sneaking around with you. Being a feisty little brat, you make a risky move while the three of you watch the game.
WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, age gap (Joel is mid forties, reader is late teens or early twenties), secret relationship, fingering, hand jobs on the sly, basically getting away with smutty stuff while your dad's nearby
JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST
"Your Uncle Joel's comin' by for a bit, gonna watch the ballgame," your dad tells you one warm June evening. Uncle Joel.. you keep your smirk to yourself as you think on the nickname you've known your dad's best friend by all these years. It's especially inappropriate now that you've been hooking up with him since spring break.
And right on time, Joel shows up at your door, jeans snug in all the right places, a heather-gray shirt clinging to his chest, drawing your eyes to the biceps peeking out from beneath his sleeves. There's a few salt and pepper streaks at his temples and in his beard, which when you've pointed out to him, he's laughed off. His eyes dilate at the sight of you, giving you a once-over before he fixes his expression to be one of sociability. "Hey darlin', where's your dad?" he drawls.
"He's on the warpath, can't find batteries to replace the ones in the remote." You let him in, noting the way he brushes against you casually, as if on accident. His hand gently cups your ass, a quick feel before you settle into your roles as family friends. "I'm used to seeing you come through the back door.. or through my window," you murmur, watching his eyes darken with lustful remembrance. "Dad, Uncle Joel's here!" you shout upstairs.
"Damn it, I gotta find some more batteries," Ray calls out from the second floor. "Make yourself at home, buddy!"
Joel chuckles softly at Ray's outburst, his eyes twinkling with playful amusement, and he turns to you with a mischievous smirk. "Looks like we've got a little privacy for a minute, darlin'," he murmurs huskily, his hands sliding down to your hips.
Your panties are already damp at the feel of his large hands on you, fingers playing at the smooth skin between the bottom of your shirt and the top of your shorts. You reach up and run your tongue along the seam of his lips while you put his hand down the front of your jean shorts.
Joel's eyes darken with desire as you guide his hand, his own breath hitching with pleasure at the feel of your warm, wet flesh. "Jesus, Little Miss Eager.. darlin', you're gonna get us caught," he mutters gruffly, his voice husky with need.
"That's part of the thrill," you whisper as he presses you against the back of the sofa. His fingers slide over your slick folds, teasing you, daring you to cry out or whimper.
He grunts softly as his fingers circle your clit, wishing he was nibbling on it the way you love. "What's wrong? Didn't get enough last night? Drivin' me crazy, even with your daddy right upstairs," he whispers back, his voice taut with desire. "Does your daddy know how dirty you are?"
"What he doesn't know won't hurt him," you reply, breathing rapidly at the feel of his invading fingers.
His fingers explore you, teasing you enough without actually giving in to what you want. "You naughty little thing," he whispers against your ear. "You like takin' the risk, don't you? Lettin' me touch you like this even though your daddy could walk in."
"I am naughty.. your naughty little girl.. your naughty little dirty girl.." your voice breaks, gasping.
Joel grunts softly. "Damn right you are," he growls hungrily, his fingers delving further inside you, curling to find the spot that drives you wild.
"Yes! Yes!" You gasp as quiet as you can, one hand supporting you on the sofa and the other digging your nails into his shoulder. Joel's thumb brushes over your clit in a daring response as his eyes gleam with excitement. "Oh you like that, darlin', don't you?"
"Joel you're gonna make me come.." you tell him, your voice dripping with desperation, the pleasure uncoiling in the pit of your stomach, waiting to be released.
His fingers move faster, generating more friction with your touch. "You gonna come for me right now, with your daddy in the next room?" His voice is taunting and seductive, a dare in and of itself.
"Yes.. yes.. yes!" you squeak out as you come hard around his fingers.
Joel whispers praises against your ear as your pussy grips his fingers, drenching them in your sweet juices. "That's it, darlin', give it to me.. just like that.. good girl," he whispers. "You're so damn beautiful when you come for me like that." His voice is low, husky, full of admiration, and his eyes are full of love and desire.
You whisper his name as you come down, enjoying the little aftershocks of pleasure.
Ray's voice booms out from above. "Hey, what's that noise down there?"
Joel curses under his breath, quickly removing his hand from your shorts, his body tensing as he listens out for Ray's next move.
"We're looking for the batteries, Daddy!" You call back upstairs, taking Joel's wet fingers and licking your juice off them.
Your dad grunts a reply upstairs.
"You little vixen," Joel grins, a lustful expression on his face as he watches you lick his fingers.
"But you like me this way."
"Oh I do. I like you like this way too much, but right now I have to put some space between us before you dad comes down or he's definitely gonna see somethin' he doesn't wanna see."
You pout but he's right. "Don't worry," he mutters, "we'll make up for lost time later. I promise." He goes to wash up quickly, wishing he could keep your scent on his hands.
Your legs are still shaking but you get some beers and soda from the fridge and help Joel set up. Your dad soon comes back down with fresh batteries. "I think we missed the first inning, but that's okay," he replaces the batteries and sits down next to you on the sofa, Joel on your other side. Joel's expression is schooled into neutral politeness as he cracks open a cold one and watches the game. You purposely keep your eyes off him, because honestly if he looks your way you're a goner. The TV generates a soft glow in the relative darkness of the living room.
Sipping your diet soda, you lean against your dad to get comfortable while he explains the rules, even though you've seen a thousand baseball games before. You smile and kiss his cheek as you rest your head on his shoulder, forever his little girl, until someone else comes to take you away. Joel uses his peripheral vision to watch you, comparing your affection for your father with the licentiousness Joel himself has brought out in you.
After feeling Joel's eyes burn a hole through you, you at last give him some attention. "Uncle Joel, who do you think's gonna win? The Rangers or the Red Sox?"
"I'm gonna say the Rangers, sugar. They got a lot of momentum this season, and their batting has been pretty impressive." He takes a sip of his beer, watching you with an appreciative gaze.
"I don't know.. their best pitcher is out for the rest of the season, and they can't hit for shit when they're playing away games." You stick your tongue out at him in a playful ,manner and all he can think of is where he wants that tongue later.
Joel grins at your sharp observation, impressed by your knowledge of the team. "Well damn, darlin'. Sounds like you know your baseball better than I do. I guess we'll just have to see who's right in the end, won't we?"
You chuckle, giving him a flirtatious look as you rise from your seat. "We'll see. Let me get y'all some more beer." You pick up his and your dad's empty beers and take them to the trash.
His eyes don't follow you but his mind is filled with you.. "Damn, she's somethin' else," he mutters.
"You say something?" Ray asks, eyes on the game.
Joel snaps to attention, his heart racing as he realizes he spoke out loud. "Oh, uh.. just sayin' how that third baseman has a hole in his fuckin' glove," he corrects himself.
"They shouldn't have traded for that guy from Detroit. Ridiculous move," Ray shakes his head.
Joel's relieved the conversation is smooth. "Yeah, definitely a tough trade. They really need a consistent lineup."
You return to the living room with ice cold beers. "Here you go, fellas."
Joel's fingers brush against yours a brief moment as you give him his drink. "Thanks, darlin'." His eyes lock with yours before he quickly turns his attention back to the game.
You sit between him and your dad again, pretending to be absorbed in the game. Every now and then your arms or thighs graze one another's. The tension is palpable until, in the semi-darkness of your living room, you place your hand on Joel's thigh, moving upwards to cup his crotch as you innocently turn to your dad to ask him about the game.
Joel clenches his jaw, keeping a vigilant watch on the TV, barely cognizant of the conversation you and your dad are having.
"What's that honey?" your dad asks. "Oh, it's an automatic double when the ball gets hit against the far wall," he explains.
"Hmm, I see.." you continue to caress Joel on the sly, just out of sight of your dad.
Joel shifts in his seat a bit, his face a study in nonchalance. "Yeah, hitting is all about precision and strategy," he chimes in.
"And the bat?" Your caress is bolder, palming his semi-erection while he can't do anything about it. "Does the bat have anything to do with it?"
Joel clears his throat gruffly, soothing the roughness you've created in his voice. "Oh, the bat is absolutely essential.. the right bat can make all the difference in the world.. especially when you've got the right swing." His eyes gleam with unspoken hunger as he holds your gaze, the double entendre obvious.
"Daddy, you played ball with Uncle Joel in high school.. what was his swing like?"
Ray glances up, a nostalgic smile on his face as he recalls the memory. "Oh, your Uncle Joel was a hell of a batter," he grins, shaking his head with admiration. "He had a natural talent for it, a natural sense of timing and coordination. He could knock the ball out of the park with one swing. His whole body would snap into it with this powerful, fluid motion, and you just knew it was gonna be a home run."
"Sounds like nothing's changed," you whisper to Joel, smirking as you watch him writhing under your touch. Taking it up a notch you unbutton his jeans dip your hand inside, finding him growing harder, cock poking through the hole in his boxers. His eyes flutter shut.
You brush your thumb over the tip of his cock and he swallows hard, his features taut with struggling to control himself. "You're toyin' with me, darlin', and you damn well know it," he whispers lightly to you. "Don't make me do somethin' I'll regret in front of your daddy."
"I'll call your bluff." With that, you stroke him faster, turning up the volume with the remote to cover your sounds. Joel's body jerks, his low growl turning into a stifled moan of pleasure. "Damn it, darlin', you're gonna make me lose it," he says through gritted teeth.
"You all right there, man?" Ray asks, eyes glued to the game.
Joel tries to maintain his composure, clearing his throat before answering your dad. "Yeah, I'm fine.. just a lot of excitement in the game," he adds with a strained laugh.
"Shit yeah. This guy scores, the Rangers win." Ray shakes his head and swigs his beer.
Joel takes the opportunity to look down at you, his eyes dark with warning. He shakes his head silently for you to stop teasing before he loses control, but you're having too much fun with this. A slight raise of your brow, your tongue wets your lips and you whisper, "Come for me."
His body tenses at your whispered command, and he does his best to restrain the deep, guttural moan that tries to escape his lips. His hips jerk once against your touch as he spills his release inside his jeans. Luckily, Joel's groans are covered by your dad's shouts of victory as his favorite team wins. Ray leaps from the couch, oblivious to the both of you.
Meanwhile Joel's body is still vibrating with the intensity of his orgasm. He closes his eyes, trying to gather his wits and collect himself before anyone can notice the dampness in his jeans. When he opens his eyes again his gaze lands on you and his stare reads sultry. "You're gonna pay for that, darlin'."
You're shocked at yourself, at what you've caused, but the surge of power is delicious. You remove your hand from his pants and, eyes on him, lick up his cum from your palm. Joel's breath catches in his throat at your bold and suggestive move. He growls softly under his breath, his eyes glued to yours as he silently communicates just how much trouble you're in with him.
"I'm gonna go out and get some more beer," your dad announces, collecting his wallet and keys. "Joel, you okay here? I'm just goin' around the corner."
Joel's in no position to get up without it being evident that's he's come in his pants. "I'm good here," he says mildly, forcing a smile.
"I'll take good care of Uncle Joel," you tell your dad, your smile holding the tiniest bit of mischief. You share a glance with Joel, who for a millisecond looks like he would fuck you on the couch the instant your dad leaves.
"It's no problem, Ray," he assures your dad. "Y'know you can trust me."
camp counselor!Joel Miller x f!reader | 3.4K | read on AO3
Summary: Joel Miller, the new head counselor at Camp Happy Trail, makes sure this summer will be one you won't forget.
WARNINGS: 18+ Only! No outbreak AU. '80s AU. Think Camp Crystal Lake vibes w/o the murders. Set in 1980. Mention of another p-boi. Mention of semi-public sex. Accidental voyeurism. Fingering. Auralism. F!masturbation. Joel is a bully AND has a big 🍆. Kissing. Breast/nipple play. One spank. F!oral. Unprotected piv. Creampie. Mention of pregnancy (not reader). Cheating. Secret fmf threesome (makes sense in context). M!oral. Cum swallowing. Reader is early-to-mid-twenties, able bodied, with breasts and vagina, but otherwise undescribed. Feel free to imagine Game Joel or Show Joel.
Adriana's note: another little thing in my wips for a few weeks, and I really wanted to have it out by the end of summer. This was inspired by a fantasy an idea of Joel in 1980s short shorts (this look should definitely make a comeback)
dividers by @/strangergraphics-archive 👑
JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST
SUMMER 1980
You love your summer job as counselor at Camp Happy Trail. You love being outdoors, helping the campers with swimming, canoeing, hiking, learning about nature. You’ve looked forward to it every summer since high school.
This year is different. There’s a new head counselor in town, and he’s trouble in the form of Joel Miller.
He’s tall, broad, graying, and stern. His dark brown eyes apprise every counselor in front of him as the group gathers on the camp’s front lawn two weeks before opening day. He goes over the rules and expectations of all staff members. You pay attention even though it’s the same old drill: no fucking around during working hours, make sure the campers are safe at all times, please report injuries and have them sent to the nurses station, et cetera. You could recite the rules by heart.
Only one thing has you concerned.
You raise your hand to speak. Joel glances over at you but continues talking, stressing the importance of keeping away from drugs and alcohol during the next two weeks, especially once the campers come on opening day. You know all that. Still, you wait with your hand raised until Joel sighs, giving you time to speak.
“What happened to Frankie?”
Joel tries really hard not to roll his eyes. “Francisco Morales won’t be here to help us set up. He’ll be here on the camp’s opening day.” He snorts, arms crossed as he eyes you up and down. “What, is he your boyfriend or somethin’?”
“No..” you reply, unable to stop the embarrassment from creeping up your spine. Of course you and Frankie hadn’t set any firm definitions about what you are, but the past two years you’ve spent here have also been spent by fucking him in the woods during early morning hikes, blowing him in the storage shed, and sneaking him into your cabin to have him go down on you all night.
You have his number, but there’s been no answer when you’ve called before driving up to the campsite. You wonder what’s keeping him from being here.
Piper, the girl you’ve hated since you’ve been counselors together these past few years, shoots a smug look your way as the meeting is adjourned, and she walks off with Joel’s arm around her waist. She glances over her shoulder at you, giving you the finger.
She’s just jealous because Frankie chose you over her two years ago. She hasn’t let you alone in peace since.
Joel is a hard task master. At dawn he has the counselors up and jogging through the trail in the woods and chopping firewood before breakfast. Swim safety is in the afternoon when the heat is at its worst, the air humid with the scent of sunblock and stagnant lake water. At the very least you’re given some time to lay out in the sun afterward, drying off on the warm boards of the dock.
Back at the cabins only two people are unaccounted for – Piper and Joel. The other counselors make crude guesses as to where they are and what they’re doing. You’re elected to go and find them before it gets dark. Piper has dinner duty and Maya refuses to do all the cooking alone.
Slipping on your jean shorts, your towel slung over your shoulders to catch the water droplets from your still-damp hair, you set out in search of Joel and Piper.
The sun is just starting to set when you find them in a thick copse of trees near the edge of the forest, Piper pressed against a tree as Joel’s fingering her, his hand down the front of her red bikini bottom as he plunges inside her, head bent close to her ear, muttering dirty things. You stop, half-hidden by the trees as you watch them, your own pussy growing wet just bearing witness. You know you should turn and leave, forget you ever saw this, just tell the others that Piper and Joel are coming back soon.
But you’re frozen to the spot, watching them in the secrecy of the woods, your own hand ghosting over your clothed clit, imagining what Joel’s thick, rough fingers must feel like.
There’s a sharp snap of a twig that echoes in the air, causing Piper and Joel to quickly part. You’re already hurrying down the path, shame and lust heating your cheeks.
Everyone is split up in pairs, the counselor bunks only small enough to house two comfortably, and unfortunately Joel assigns you and Piper together. You tell yourself it’ll just be a couple months and most days will be too busy for you to have to deal with her very much.
Piper grabs the top bunk before you have a chance to claim it. But once you’re settled in the bottom, she makes you switch back after she finds a spiderweb too close to the ceiling.
But even your nights can’t be peaceful. Joel sneaks in after lights out, and you have to endure the soft giggles and moans coming from the bunk below you. The entire bed frame rocks with Joel’s thrusts as he fucks your bunkmate.
Great, just great.
They make no effort to hide whatever’s going on between them. His hand is permanently on her ass, barely clothed in the camp counselor uniform shorts, his entire paw covering her ass cheek. The others don’t notice or don’t care, too caught up in their own romantic entanglements.
It only makes you miss Frankie more. Out here in the woods you have no way of contacting him except through the main office line, but Joel stands right in front of anyone who wants to call home, dials the number on the rotary phone, and waits with arms crossed as the call is made. Nobody does personal calls while he’s in charge.
You try to keep yourself busy with helping get the camp ready. The grass near the cabins is maintained, repairs are made to the buildings themselves (which Joel oversees, and you can’t help but to check him out a little while he’s fixing the sign above the infirmary – he looks too good with a hammer), checking that the generators are working properly, and that the electrical system and water pressure are good.
There’s so much to do that by the time you climb up into your bunk you fall asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow.
The only thing that could possibly wake you is Joel fucking Piper in the bunk below yours.
Joel’s grunts and groans, paired with Piper’s moaning and gasping, keep you awake. You lose count of how many rounds they go, the entire bed bunk frame shaking with their movements. And at one point you can’t help it as your fingers travel beneath your sleep shorts, finding your wet pussy and tracing your slit. Two fingers fit inside you easily as you lift your legs to get comfortable. Closing your eyes you start fucking yourself on your hand, imagining Joel’s fingers inside of you instead of yours.
You’re trying desperately to keep your whimpering to a minimum but you doubt they’ll hear you over their own sounds. Your fingers match the pace of Joel’s thrusts, though you imagine his cock is a lot bigger than your two fingers combined. And the way he’s been fucking Piper for almost an hour solidifies the fact that his stamina is good.
Your fingers glide over your clit, circling and swiping, your hips arching up as you chase the friction you so desperately need for your release as you listen to Piper’s moans and Joel’s increasing grunts. Eyes squeezed tight you plunge your fingers as deep as you can, timing it just right with Piper’s final, momentous scream. You try to keep as quiet as possible as your release coats your hand, clit throbbing, legs quaking.
Joel corners you after breakfast the next morning, barring you from following the others to the field where a soccer match was planned. Instead he drags you to the boat shed. You hate it there. It’s dusty and cramped and there are cobwebs in the corners.
“What’s wrong?” you ask, your heart in your throat as Joel peers down at you, something unreadable in his deep brown eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he mimics you. “You think I don’t know you were gettin’ yourself off to me and Piper last night?”
The blood drains from your face, leaving you cold. “Wh-what?”
“Stop actin’ innocent. You weren’t exactly quiet. Piper was laughin’ at you, sayin’ you’re a lonely little virgin.”
“I’m not a virgin,” you tell him tersely.
“Really?” Joel’s voice is full of derision. “Prove it.”
The blood drains from your face. “H-how?”
“You’re a smart girl. You know how.” But just to be mean he explains it in detail. “How about you bend over–” he slaps the hull of a nearby canoe and puts his hand on your lower back, pressuring you towards it. “--pull those pretty little short-shorts down and let me check for myself.”
“You’re not serious,” you sputter.
“You afraid or somethin’?” he smirks.
You’re not afraid per se. But you’re definitely wet enough so that he’ll tease you if he finds out. “Of course not,” you stand up to him boldly.
He looks amused by this, and the way he cups his bulge in his own shorts shows he’s more than a little turned on. Your eyes drop down to where his thick cock is hardening under the skin-tight fabric.
With determination in your eyes, you’re certain of yourself when you reach up and grab Joel by the nape of his neck, kissing him. His eyes go wide at the initial shock of surprise, but then they close, a deep and satisfied growl in his chest as he kisses you back, his tongue slipping past your lips. Your gasp turns into a soft moan as his large paw on your lower back presses you closer to him, rubbing his hard-on against you.
“I bet this pussy’s already soaked,” he mutters, finally breaking from the kiss to nip at your neck. “But first..” he pulls away, a devilish look in his eye. “Lift up that shirt, honey, and lemme see those pretty titties.”
You scoff despite the fact that you are indeed soaked, but you’re already this far in. You might as well go all the way. You lift up your shirt, your white lacy bra on full display. Joel’s big meaty hands pull down the cups, palming your tits with his rough bare hands, bouncing them in his palms. “Look at these.. you gonna lemme suck ‘em?”
Fuck. This isn’t going how you expected but you can’t complain. You nod and he immediately pulls you close, picking you up and pinning you against the canoe as he takes your nipple in his mouth, groaning, using his free hand to pinch your other nipple. “So sweet,” he groans, releasing off you with a wet pop before sucking on the other.
“Joel!” you gasp, a fresh wave of wetness seeping through your underwear.
“Don’t worry, I’m gettin’ there,” he mumbles, helping you shimmy out of your shorts and pressing you forward against the boat. He lands a quick spank across your ass cheek, chuckling at the way your flesh jiggles and the sound of your yelp. Then he spreads your cheeks wide. “Look at that.. pretty as the mornin’ dew..” He kneels down and laps at your honey, making you moan. Almost too late you catch yourself, muffling your own sounds with your palm.
His large, rough hand trails down your spine, keeping you in place as the thick head of his cock slides through your folds, collecting your wetness and teasing you as he slides between your cheeks. You mewl in protest as he chuckles. “Maybe you’re right, maybe you’re not a virgin. Not the way you’re actin’ so greedy for my cock. Well darlin’, take it..”
He eases into you, using shallow thrusts and you can’t help but exhale, the rush of breath leaving you in surprise before he angles you down, sliding in to the hilt. “You’re full of me now,” he grunts out, holding steady to your hips. “God damn, tighter than a nun’s asshole.”
Your walls flutter around him with each stroke, your hands bracing you against the smooth wood of the upturned canoe. You whimper in time with each smooth thrust. Each time Joel bottoms out you feel it deep in your belly, probably deeper than anyone’s ever gone.
“Wish you could see how you’re soakin’ me,” Joel grunts, giving a few quick thrusts to let you hear the sound of your sloppy pussy. “How do you like it, darlin’? You want me to make a mess of you inside, or do you need me to pull out and shove this cock down your throat so you can swallow my load?”
“I-inside,” you pant. “I have an IUD.”
“That’s a relief,” Joel mutters, speeding up, one big hand wrapping around your front to tickle your clit. “C’mon, baby, need you to come on my cock before I bust inside you..”
He slows down just enough for you to work your way up to it, the heat building in your belly and your core, moaning at the way he lifts your hips to meet each thrust, sweat gathering at your temples. “Joel,” you whine, thinking of nothing but the way he’s fucking and filling and stretching your cunt. With an expertly angled thrust home you fall apart, moaning his name as you squeeze around him, and he picks up the pace, slamming into you until he swells inside you, his hot cum painting your walls. His cock is still twitching in the aftershocks when he finally releases his grip on your hips and pulls out of you. You quickly shove your underwear and shorts back on to catch his leavings already starting to leak out.
“Smart girl, bein’ on birth control,” Joel mutters, stuffing himself back into his own shorts. “I wish Piper was responsible like that.”
You school your features into nonchalance after you pull your shirt back down. There’s a little stab of guilt when you realize you’ve just fucked your bunkmate’s boyfriend.. even if she is a bitch. “What do you mean?” you ask innocently.
He reddens, as if he shouldn’t have spoken. “You’re sworn to secrecy, alright? Piper’s pregnant.”
“What?” Joel immediately clamps his hand over your mouth. He still smells like sex.
“Shut. Up,” he warns. “If I find out you told anyone else you’re packin’ your bags and goin’ home. Understand?”
You nod and whisper “Yes,” when he removes his hand. “It’s yours?”
He scoffs. “She says so. Still– not a peep. Got it?”
Piper becomes grumpy when Joel’s visits make an abrupt stop. But she’s no bitchier than usual, likely trying to get back into Joel’s good graces. Little does she know he’s only stopped coming to her because he’s taken up fucking you instead – in the storage shed, in the empty cots in the infirmary, the walk-in pantry in the kitchen. He maintains the position that he doesn’t like you very much while you’re in front of the others, sometimes giving you tasks you have to complete on your own – with the sole purpose of finding you to hook up.
The last night before the campers are due, everyone lets loose. Couples sneak off into the woods with sleeping bags and sinful intentions, some stay on the pier by the lake, drinking and laughing.
You’re the only one who’s made it to your bunk at an appropriate hour, wanting a full night’s rest before the big day. But your sleep is interrupted when Joel and Piper come in, slamming the door behind them, all over each other, kissing and giggling. With a silent groan you put your pillow over your head, already expecting to drown out the noises they’re about to make, which are going to keep you up all night.
They’re in the bottom bunk, a little quieter now that their mouths are busy. But soon there’s that familiar rocking rhythm and the sound of Piper’s moans and squeals, coming to a crescendo. Once again Joel’s stamina is off the charts. You’re in the middle of pleasuring yourself, two fingers shoved as deep as you can go, when everything stops and you hear Joel murmuring. There’s a creak as he gets out of the bunk, and Piper giggles as he positions her facing away. Now Joel’s eye level with your bunk and you gasp as you come face to face with him. He winks at you.
“What do you think you’re doing?” you whisper as quietly as you can.
“She caught up with me. I couldn’t shake her,” he explains just as softly. “Don’t leave me hangin’, sweetheart. Bring that pretty pussy to my face.”
Without hesitating you lift up your nightdress, scooting to the edge of the bed, thighs spread around Joel’s face as he fucks into Piper – oblivious to everything going on – in the bottom bunk. He’s got his dick buried in her while he’s eating you out. You’ve never experienced anything hotter.
You hear Piper’s staccato cries as Joel pounds into her from behind, his own moans humming through your flesh, heightening your arousal, your clit standing at attention between Joel’s lips, his mustache tickling your soft skin. You already know you’re going to come when your legs start shaking, toes curling at the waves of pressure building up in your very core.
“Joel!” you try to whisper as softly as possible. “Joel!.. I’m gonna come!”
He only smacks harder into Piper, her own cries louder than yours. “Come for me,” he whispers back, the tip of his tongue giving one teasing swirl around your pearl before he dives back in. Your back arches off the bed, lightning shooting through your veins as your cunt pulses, drenching Joel’s mouth as you come. He groans, licking up every drop, watching you through his lashes. “Good girl,” he whispers, backing off when you become too sensitive, his lips warm on your inner thigh, stubble scratching at your soft skin as he pulls off of Piper, turning her around so she’s sucking him off.
You hear her moaning and sighing, gagging on his cock. Meanwhile Joel lazily fingers you, scissoring his digits inside your sloppy pussy, his eyes black and glossy while Piper deep-throats him. Your fingers card through his hair as you ignore the softening of your heart in seeing him so tame and vulnerable.
Your name is on his lips but he moans Piper just in the nick of time, his breaths growing unsteady as he comes close to the end, getting ready to bust in Piper’s mouth. You take his head in your cupped hands. “Come, Joel.. give her what she wants,” you whisper. He groans, his thrusts getting sloppy as he fucks his girlfriend’s throat, stilling at last, his features tensing then relaxing as Piper gasps softly, swallowing his thick load.
The next day Joel treats you the same as he always has. Everyone’s minds are on the Opening Day festivities ahead, even if some of the counselors look like they’ve only had a couple hours’ sleep. You’re bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, not just because of last night, but because you’re genuinely excited for summer camp to officially begin.
The campers hurry out of the stuffy buses and onto the rolling green grass, toting duffel bags, wearing the gold and blue camp tees and ball caps, eager for their summer to begin. Everyone is assigned to a counselor, and as soon as your group is ready you start to lead them to their cabin. You have a full day ahead: a quick icebreaker so everyone can become acquainted, a scavenger hunt that will enable the kids to work as a team, then a game of capture the flag, then lunch. You have your day cut out for you, and in the back of your mind you wonder if you’ll cross paths with Joel again..
Your thoughts are interrupted by someone shouting back at the buses. All the counselors turn to look, surprise written on their faces as they find one more latecomer to Camp Happy Trail.
Frankie Morales, adjusting the Standard Oil cap on his head, dark curls already sticking to the sweat on his neck, hurries off the last bus. His royal blue camp tee clings to his torso like sin, accentuating his broad frame. You’re speechless when he reaches you, putting his arms around you and lifting you off the ground before landing a big kiss on your lips. The campers are grossed out, giggling and making faces.
When he pulls away, cupping your face in his hands, you can feel everyone’s eyes on you, just as shocked as you are to see him finally arrive. “I missed you, babe,” he says, planting one more kiss on your forehead. “So what have I missed?”
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When your eyes first open in the early hours of dawn, all that Mayday graces with you is a hum of ‘good morning’ before he dives headfirst back into your pussy.
It isn’t the rudest of greetings. It’s rather pleasant, even if abrupt.
A lazy smile creeps on your face, and you tilt your head to the side to face the soft golden light that filters between peaks of curtains, casting a warm glow on the disheveled sheets that still cling to your bodies. Gradually, your senses come back to you; the first being the tingling, pleasurable sensation between your legs, urged on by Mayday’s slow, thorough licks he runs across your cunt in an urge to wake you up.
The two of you had discussed waking the other up like this before, but it’s the first time he’s ever done it, and the feeling of building pressure being the first sense to return to your conscious mind is another feeling entirely.
“Baby…” you mutter absentmindedly, thoughts and sensations entirely elsewhere.
Mayday brings his head up between your legs and curls a hand around your thigh, reaching to the back of your knee to hook it over his shoulder. When he smiles, you huff out of disbelief.
“Yes?” He asks.
You bring your knees up to get a better look; the scruff of his wet beard scratching against your inner thigh; the warmth of deep brown in his eyes that shines in the sunlight; his thick, tangled hair tied back with your hair tie that you gifted him yesterday.
“Good morning,” you finally reply, and Mayday breaks into a sweet smile. You watch closely as he leans down again and places a long kiss on your clit. Your breath hitches and a small moan comes out of you. Mayday chuckles into your skin. The vibration runs through you and suddenly you’re so overwhelmed, so consumed by the warmth between your legs you start to whine.
“That’s it,” Mayday mutters, taking long licks up your cunt with a sigh. “Keep making noise like that. So perfect.”
He keeps rambling between each lick and kiss, fingers tracing over your lips in focused precision. Your head spins and you lose focus on what he’s saying.
Your heels dig into the mattress and you try to gain friction as you grind your hips to meet his mouth.
“Kriff,” Mayday groans. You sigh as you feel two fingers circle your pussy before pushing into your entrance. The resistance makes you gasp and hold your stomach, and you dig your nails into your skin.
A coarse hand, large and gentle, wraps around your wrist. Mayday leads your hand to his hair, and you instinctively let your fingers curl through the locks. His ponytail is loose, but you doubt he cares.
“Touch me,” He says, less demanding, more imploring. You nod, head still spinning from the simple feeling of Mayday’s fingers inside of you; not curling, not moving,
just still, buzzing with anticipation. His eyes are focused on yours, with a soft intensity that melts you.
“Whatever pleasure you’re feeling, take it out on me, please.”
No words come to you. Instead, you moan softly and grip his hair. Mayday replies with his own noise. Your feet shuffle against the sheets, and your chest rises and falls as the fingers inside of you suddenly begin to ache and weigh inside you. He picks up on your impatience, and slowly pulls out, curling his fingers as he reaches back in and begins to kiss at your clit again.
A string of “Oh”’s and “Yes”s leave your mouth without warning, like some phantom lurching out of your throat. Your thighs clench and tighten around his head, but Mayday doesn’t stop. If anything, he’s encouraged by your building pleasure; he can’t get enough of it.
“Kriff, thank you,” You catch him mumbling as he scissors the two fingers inside of you, watching how your face scrunches and relaxes between each movement. “Thank you, love. Thank you.”
You still can’t reply, lost in the feeling of his lips, his tongue, his eyes set on you. But that doesn’t stop him from talking.
“Looked so beautiful this morning,” He says, reaching down to lick up a wad of your pleasure that spills out of you when he twists his fingers. “The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I couldn’t— couldn’t help myself, love. Just had to—“
Mayday interrupts himself when he sees the way you twitch as he touches you.
“Baby—“
“I’m so close,” You interrupt with hoarse intensity, curling and uncurling your hand in his scalp rapidly. Mayday doesn’t stop playing with you, his other hand tracing over the lines inside and around your center.
“I know, cyare, I know,” He mutters before leaning in to kiss your clit again, tracing circles over it with his tongue while you whimper. “Let me make you come.”
You hold onto his hair. Open up your legs and focus solely on the sensations curling inside of you. You know that you’re moaning and crying out a bit too loud, but you can’t control how it falls out. Mayday groans and pushes more of his fingers into you, catching up to a speed and rhythm both of you know so well. He’s muttering desperate pleas for you, asking you to come, please come, he needs you to feel good, he needs you to wet his beard and clench on his fingers—
You come in one giant wave, convulsing up with a gasping cry. Mayday doesn’t even have to ask if you’ve come; he’s already lapping up your release, softly pumping his fingers in and out so he has more to marvel at and lick. Your hand lays on his head, motionless and no longer curled around his hair, and you catch a glimpse of the red marks left on your inner thighs from the scratch of his beard as you come down from your high.
As Mayday slowly pulls his fingers out of you, his other hand reaches to softly stroke your clit with his thumb. When you squeak, he smiles. You return with a squeamish grin.
Mayday slowly runs his other hand over the marks he left on your thighs.
“Best breakfast I could ever ask for,” He says. You scoff and playfully pull at his hair; he hums softly.
“God, your dork,” You mutter, a mischievous glint in his eye diminishing once you sit up, urging him to do the same. “Get over here. I need to eat too.”
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Everyone: omg Hollander leash your dog, Ilya is barking at opponent hockey players again
Shane Enabler Hollander: ok so Ilyusha this player has had zero assists in the entire season, he got drafted last, and finally - and this is crucial - he once scored a goal in his own team's net
Ilya Heart Eyes Rozanov: thank you my ShaneWiki this is valuable data, off I go
I have this headcanon where in an alternative universe Ilya had a moment of insight at the beginning of their hookups so when The Raiders asked where he was going instead of saying he was gonna see Montreal Jane he was like 'I am gonna see my close personal friend Shane Hollander we are gonna eat takeout and play videogames in his house he is my best friend actually.' And the Raiders were like, 'Yeah, right.' But he kept the bit, and every time they were in Montreal, he told the Raiders he was meeting Shane, and the rivalry was just league PR bullshit. They never truly believed him, but it didn't really matter at the time. And When they were eventually at the cottage and Shane told Ilya his plan Ilya was like 'Do not be mad but I have been telling Raiders you are my best friend and every time we play monteral I come to see you to play videogames and eat takeout for years and they never belived me so there is still plusably denibility but if you wanna launch a friendship we dont have to wait or built up I already laid the groundwork.' And Shane is in his head like 'I am gonna marry this man.' So they announce the charity the same summer and the raiders are like 'well shit he was telling the truth.' And since Ilya did lay the groundwork, when the media asks them about Ilya and Shane's 'have been friends the whole time' narrative, the Raiders are like, 'Yeah, he told us they were friends; we just didn't believe him.' Which makes the public opinion on their friendship largely positive but doesn't really change the overall timeline all that much just gives them some room to be publicly affectionate and kind of takes the heat off the fanmail gate bc instead of the public thinking it was an enemies-to-lovers hot sex in hotel rooms 9-year situationship with messy breakups and hookups in between they think it was a slow-burn friends-to-lovers situation filled with yearning and Queer self discovery which is more palatable to the public.
shane (a little tipsy) being cornered by a few fans at a bar one night and they ask him what’s the best thing about coming out, expecting him to say something motivating like self-expression and liberation and shane just goes
“i don’t know, probably that i can have ilya’s photos on my phone now :).”
and the whole of non bigot hockey twt just fucking crash out and montreal metros and crowell gets burned at the stake
What if Alexei's wife finds pictures and jewelry from Ilya's mom hidden in a box while she's deep cleaning?
She secretly sends all of them to Ilya, knowing that he's the only one that would actually appreciate them- she knows Alexei would just burn or pawn them off
Ilya receives a package in the mail, the return address familiar. He opens it and finds the last physical reminders anyone had of his mama
She looks so beautiful in the pictures, so carefree and happy.
He finds the jewelry, memories swirling in his head
He remembers the cool touch of her rings against his face
The jingle of her bracelets
The shine of her earrings
Shane finds Ilya on the ground in their kitchen, crying and muttering to himself on Russian, Shane only being able to pick up some of the words
What he hears breaks his heart
mama, mama, please, I miss you, I love you, mama
Shane slowly sits down next to him, letting Ilya feel everything he needs to, sitting as a solid presence next to him, keeping him tethered to earth, his eyes catching one of the photos
It's a picture of Irina, maybe 20, wearing skates and holding a makeshift hockey stick, beaming at the camera, eyes bright and a gorgeous shade of blue, looking every bit like the woman who raised such a beautiful son
the whole boston team knowing about montreal jane and they think that ilya rozanov who can pull any girl he wants must have found a real baddie the way he keeps coming back for more and then hard cut to shane hollander on a friday night drinking tea and reading the same hockey book for the fourth time who when ilya texts him asking what are you wearing? texts back my new organic cotton pj set and ilya texts back i'm so hard tell me more
it would suck being a new immortal. like it’d be 2109 and people would go, “what was it like seeing ancient civilizations rise and fall like that? seeing the pyramids being built? watching the expansion and growth of the new world?” and i’d just be like, “no…no i was born in 1991. so like, wow i’m gonna see some cool stuff, but, i mean i’m not that much older than just a really, really old person, you know? phones were big back then. so big. but only for like ten years, then they got like, as good as they are now. uh. rhinos existed. don’t think i ever saw one in person. cool, good talk.”
even worse, imagine being an immortal who keeps missing stuff. “What was it like seeing the pyramids being built?”
“Fuck if I know, I was in Madagascar.”
“Oh, okay. Well, how was the Renaissance?”
“I fell down a hole in Scotland and people thought I was an enchanted well for four hundred years, it was over by the time I convinced someone to get me out.”
We barely know anything about Madagascar pre-500CE. We don’t even know whether the island had a permanent population before then, despite finding a bunch of much older signs of temporary human presence.
Malagasy mythology makes mention of the vazimba, a “precursor” ethnic group that might or might not be distinct from Madagascar’s current population.
The point is, we do not know.
So you were in Madagascar when the pyramids were being built in Egypt, i.e. during one of the most obscure, most undocumented parts of Madagascar’s human history?
Oh, buddy, you better go and make a bunch of anthropologists and archeologists really happy RIGHT NOW instead of feeling bad about missing everyone else’s pet Major Event.
gamechangershow
2087
blakekathryn
kianamaiart
amandla
