#Reader x Don Draper

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Kinktober Day 29

Day Twenty-Eight | 🌹Kinktober Masterlist🌹 | Day Thirty

Pairing: Don Draper x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting with ANY of these Kinktober prompts will be blocked

Warnings: Semi-public sex; fingering; vaginal sex; unsafe sex; creampie; gagging with clothing

You glanced at the intercom as it buzzed, raising a brow. You did your best to school your expression to be as placid as possible. It was another moment before Mr. Draper’s voice crackled through, “Come in here. Bring your notepad.” 

You reached out, flipping the ‘talk’ button and answering, “Yes, Mr. Draper,” Before turning it off again. You lowered the volume completely before you stood, taking up your pad and a pencil before you turned, heading into Mr. Draper’s office. You shut the door behind yourself, and made to step further into the office before he raised a hand to stop you. 

“Lock it.”

The order made your stomach flip. You took a half-step back, reaching back and locking the door without turning to look. You smiled as Don rose from his desk, waving you deeper into the office. 

“Something I can help you with, Mr. Draper?” 

He scoffed, muttering, “Please,” As he rounded the desk, leaning back against it. “How are you finding it?” 

“It’s been a pretty quiet morning. Seems like a cushy job, sitting and typing all day. I thought you’d keep me a little busier.” 

“Really.” 

“Mhm. Of course,” You came to a stop within his reach, “If this doesn’t work out, Ken offered to keep me incredibly busy after work.”

“Did he.” 

“Mhm,” You nodded. “Though, Kinsey offered, first.” 

“Sounds like you have your pick of the writers.” 

“Guess I do.” 

Don reached out, hooking two fingers in the band of your pencil skirt and using the grip to tug you close. 

“Are you going to see them?” Don asked. 

“Well I guess I won’t be able to if you keep me busy, Mr. Draper.” 

Don’s lips curled into a slick smile before he reached out, taking hold of the pad and pencil, and tossing them back onto his desk. You glanced after them, grinning as he pulled you even closer, slotting you between his legs before he caught your lips in a consuming kiss. You let your eyes close, leaning into his chest and sliding your arms around his shoulders. Don’s lips worked against yours as his hands traveled down your sides, then around your back, squeezing your ass. You giggled against his lips, stepping back as Don began to steer you away from the desk. 

“Where are we talking this party, Mr. Draper?” 

You let him lead you to his couch, kicking your shoes off and letting him steer you to lay down.

“Don,” You warned softly, “I can’t—If I’m not back outside in a couple minutes—” 

“No one will care.” 

“People will talk.”

“Let them.”

Don propped himself over you, shoving your skirt up around your hips. You lifted your hips, stomach fluttering with nerves as he tugged your panties down and off, setting them aside. He leaned up, kissing your neck as his fingers stroked along your pussy. You bit your lip, pushing down into his touch. 

Don tipped his chin up, sliding his lips along yours as he eased two fingers into your pussy. You gasped, eyelids fluttering as you struggled to keep your gaze on his. He thrust his fingers, grinding his palm against your clit as you traded heated kisses. You whined quietly against his lips before you tipped your head back, eyeing the clock. 

“You have a meeting in five minutes,” You added. Don groaned in irritation, turning his head and nipping your shoulder through your sweater. 

“Take it out,” He ordered. You reached down, undoing his belt, button, and zip to grasp his hardening cock. You pumped it in your hand a few times, swiping your thumb over the tip. He pushed himself up, spreading your thighs wide. He drew his fingers out of you and raised his hand, spitting into his palm. You let go of him, watching him stroke your joined slickness over his cock. He held your eye as he snapped his hips forward, seating himself fully in you. Your eyes widened, your mouth falling open with a moan. Before it could get out completely, he plucked up your underwear, cramming the fabric between your lips. 

You whimpered at the scent of yourself, the plunge and drag of Don’s cock as he began to thrust into you roughly. 

“Better keep quiet,” Don warned quietly, “If you’re so worried about everyone out there knowing.”

You groaned, raising your hands and grasping the shoulders of his jacket. You didn’t even try to slow him, you just held on for the ride. You watched as he strained with the force of his thrusts, a few beads of sweat springing up as he fucked you with almost brutal thrusts. You tipped your head back against the arm of the couch, honing in on the press of his body, and the repeated stretch of his cock. You bit down around the underwear, quieting yourself as Don bowed over you, lips brushing against yours. You drove your hips up against his, eyes rolling back as you came, tightening up around Don. He groaned low in his throat, hips pounding, then stilling as he filled you. 

You panted heavily, sagging, boneless, against the couch cushions. Don drew away, pulling out and giving your hip a slap before tucking himself away. You drew the panties out from your mouth, licking your dry lips, and frowning as Don took them from you. 

“What is it?” You asked.

“You’ll get these back at the end of the day,” He said, tucking them into his pocket. 

 You rolled your eyes, straightening and putting your shoes on. “Ridiculous,” You mumbled, squirming as you felt his spend trickling between your thighs. “Give me my notepad and pencil.” You stood, rolling your skirt down as Don got the discarded items, holding them out to you. 

“Thank you.” 

You plucked them from Don, heading for the door and undoing the lock. 

“Hey.” Don followed, hooking his arm around your middle and drawing you in for a kiss. You sighed softly, smiling and resting your hand on his chest. “We’re going to yours tonight,” He murmured.

“Is that so?” 

“That wasn’t a request.” 

You jumped slightly as you heard someone knock on the office door. You drew away from Don, double-checking that your clothing was straight before you turned, opening the door. You found Kinsey, Cosgrove, and Campbell there. Their grins grew at the sight of you. 

“Draper’s not railing you too hard, is he?” Ken asked. “I can ask him to take it easy on you.” 

Your face went hot, but you shook your head. “That won’t be necessary, thank you.” You turned to look at Don, raising your brows at the sight of his irritated gaze fixed on Ken. “Is there anything else that I can do for you, Mr. Draper?” 

His eyes darted to you, shaking his head. “No.” 

“Excuse me, then.” 

You stepped between the others, ignoring their lingering gazes as you lowered yourself to at your desk, thrilling in the aching throb as you settled on the hard chair.

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @phoenixhalliwell ; @wild-rose-35 ; @daisyslibrary ; @informally-liz ; @andrastesflamingtitties ; @muchacha-encabronada ; @nerdygirl0414 ; @elen-aranel ; @ohbee-whatcanyoube ; @kmc1989 ; @quietpainter ; @thedreadandthefugitivemind ; @kaletastrophes ; @nyx2021 ; @thatesqcrush ; @adarasforest ; @s-u-t ; @silversprings-mp3 ; @senawashere ;

[id-rather-be-in-middle-earth]

Does anyone write or know someone who writes fanfiction for Mad Men?! I need Don Drapper smut fics like it's my air to breathe!!!!

[wroteclassicaly]

When I used to write Don Draper x reader 😭

[ourloveisforthelovely]

Lover

Mad Men 

A/n: Request from a lovely annon. I hope you enjoy. More could be added

Summary:  You are different than most women that caught Don Draper’s eye. You are also one of the few women that told him no. You are also everything that he wanted. Now the question was would Don change or fall back to his old demons?

Words: 1,062

Pairings: Don Draper x Reader

______

It's wrong...this shouldn’t be happening…It was the thought that was plaguing Don Draper’s mind. His mind had been on his much younger secretary. You had been working for him directly for a few months…

And hasn’t left my mind ever since…

Don’s mind supplied. He knew that falling in love wasn’t something entirely new for him. He had always been on the lookout for someone new to love (even if it was just for one night.) You, however, were different from his normal “type.” If you were his normal type of woman then the two of you would have been sleeping together by now. 

When you shot Don’s offer of a dinner date down, he knew you weren’t like most women he went for. Instead, you politely declined in that soft southern account that was driving him wild. You weren’t cold.

“I’m sorry. I am actually seeing a gentleman named Robert that is an accountant.” 

With that, Don hated Robert...whoever he was.

You were definitely different! You had moved to the city from a small southern town in Tennessee. From what Don gathered from other ladies in the office, you had a rough childhood (one thing in common...he thought darkly). While Don didn’t know all of the details, he figured that what made you so mild-mannered and passive. You weren’t sassy like Joan although you could keep up with her if push came to shove. Maybe that was why Joan was so fond of you also? You weren’t just some stereotypical “Mary Sue.” To put things politely, you were a good girl. Don hadn’t even heard you say a single curse word from the moment that he met you.  

You might as well get used to it, buddy. She doesn’t want you.

Don thought as he walked into the office. You, as usual, sat at your desk talking away on the telephone. Your eyes rolled up when Don stepped in.  

God, you were gorgeous! You sat in a black dress that showed off those legs that were driving him wild.

“Yes, that bouquet goes to prisoner 1458, Linda McCallum. Thank you.”

You hung up the phone and turned back to Don. God, did he have to be so handsome? A better question was why did you turn him down? You immediately dismissed that thought. His reputation was the reason why you turned him down. From the moment that you had been hired, his name was on the lips of a lot of women in the office on “who to avoid.” You had seen first hand what infidelity could do to a woman and wanted no part of it.  For now, you could just admire Don from afar. 

“Prisoner? What are you doing?”

Don questioned, slightly taken aback. You smiled but felt a slight blush spreading on your cheeks.

“My mother. She’s in prison. I always send her flowers on her birthday.”

Don sat down across from you. 

“Your mother is in prison?” 

You nodded. 

“Yes. It's kind of an unorthodox situation, I suppose.” 

You lightly tapped your foot. Your childhood wasn’t something that you discussed with many people. Since arriving in New York City, the only person that you really told everything to was Joan. 

“It is New York City. There are a lot of unorthodox here.” 

Don replied, pulling you from your thoughts. 

“I’ve not really talked to many people about this. My mother is in prison for killing my father.”

Don looked totally stunned by your confession. He sat quietly for a moment as if he was trying to judge whether or not this was some strange joke. When you didn’t say “gotcha” he realized that you were serious. 

“Are you serious?”

He managed to get out after a few more awkward moments. You lightly chuckled at the expression on his face. This was the typical expression that you received when you were honest about your childhood. 

“Yes. I am dead serious.” 

Don didn’t respond for a few moments.

“She caught him having an affair and shot him over dinner one night. I’ll leave out some of the more morbid details that typically creep people out. I was 7 and was raised by old school baptist grandparents. The stories that you have probably heard are correct. That is part of the reason I don’t date anyone. I don’t want to have someone cheat on me and I sink to the level my mother did.” 

You stood and walked to the window to avoid Don’s gaze. He quickly stood up when you mentioned the phrase “I’m single.” 

“What happened to Rober the accountant?”  

You realized that your white lie totally went down in flames. Blushing, you looked away from Don’s unamused expression. 

“Well...I have a confession to make. There is no Robert in accounting.” 

Don sat with a bemused expression. Had he really heard you correctly? He was turned down for some guy that did not exist. This had to be a first! He hadn’t been turned down this horribly before. 

“You turned down dinner with me for some imaginary guy?”

You were thinking about your next response. After Robert came into the conversation, Don treated you like he would any other secretary. 

“I didn't do it with mean intentions.” 

There it was...that sweet southern charm that was so refreshing. 

“I was partially kidding.” 

You smiled. 

“No, you weren't. You were being honest. I suppose that I owe you the same. I told you no because I was warned about you. There is also the fact that you are my boss. Where I come from that isn’t a good idea.” 

Don’s eyes darkened. All of his suspicions were quickly coming to light. He had the feeling that you had never been with a man. 

“You were warned about me?” 

“I won’t reveal my sources. You’ve been married multiple times with multiple girlfriends. If you are wanting to know if I find you attractive then the answer is yes. I won’t, however, become a notch on your bedpost.” 

You looked up to see Joan’s eyes watching you from across the room. She motioned you forward. Good old Joan. She knew exactly when you needed her. Your attention flickered back to Don who was still looking at you with a surprised expression. 

“Excuse me.” 

You said softly before placing a hand on his shoulder and walking away. 

____________

@shaylybaby2032, @brokencasbutt67-writer, @tas898, @supernaturalways, @supernaturalways, @untoldshortsofthefandoms, @li0nh34rt, @fandom-trash-worth-it, @wontlookaway, @mycuddlycorner, @shitfaceddaniel, @stuckinsaudi1. @emiwrites3reads, @shadows-and-padlocked-hearts, @deanwherescas, @authoressskr, @hankypranky, @summer-novak, @marichromatic, 

[pinballwitxh]

ATTENTION

Lol does anyone want some mad men fics

[fancattts-fiction]

Answers

Hello everyone. Here’s what’s up:

Where have you been?/What have you been doing?

I finished my first year of college in June, and I’m going to be honest, it just got really overwhelming. That on top of being a lead in a musical, I had a lot of work set out for me. I also met someone amazing, and am struggling now with the fact that he will be leaving to join the Army, and I won’t see him for a long time. Needless to say, things have been up and down (and still are). I’ve just been really busy. But something in me had to write tonight.

What made you want to return?

I just had an impulse. Like an itch. An itch I haven’t had for a long time.

Will you keep writing?

I’m not sure. All my life I’ve wanted to write books and teach English, but I am just now coming to terms with the fact that that might not be practical. I’m looking at a career change, more along the lines of what Chloe Decker does. I’ve just really lost my passion for writing, which saddens me. But despite this, I’m going to try to keep writing, even if it’s not necessarily this piece.

Have you been keeping up with the show?

Not at all. I’m so far behind. Something got messed up with our Hulu account, so we got ads, and haven’t taken the time to get them taken off. I can’t stand ads- I know that sounds silly. But if Lucifer were on Netflix, I’d binge it all right now.

I don’t know why I picked this show. I like the idea of having a relationship with the devil, who “isn’t as bad as he seems” and all that. But it’s not even in my top ten. I just ran with it.

What made you stop?

Other than being busy and a lack of motivation, I stopped loving the show. It was definitely a phase for me. There are some shows that will stick with me all my life, and that I really really love. But this isn’t one of them. It’s good, don’t get me wrong. But I think all the writing just left me with a bitter taste for it, like eating too much of the same food. I just needed a break.

What can we expect to see from you in the future?

I still love writing fan fiction. It’s nice to have a world set up for you, it’s a fun challenge. I also love playing into the depths of people other writers have created. So, I’m definitely interested in writing about a show that I know well. This would probably be something that’s already wrapped up or isn’t premiering now (unless I do smut or shortfics, then it doesn’t matter). Something like Mad Men, Hannibal, Daredevil, or House (can you tell I like broken main characters....). The former two I’ve rewatched multiple times, and would love to play around with.

I’ve also become obsessed with Detroit: Become Human, and would absolutely LOVE to write a long-form fic about Connor, his development, and what it would be like to witness that as a person (maybe even a love interest??) in his life.

Author’s Note

Anyways- I am active on here! So please feel free to ask me questions. I’d like to build up the fan base enough that you guys get curious about all the devices I use- I WRITE EVERYTHING WITH PURPOSE! You want to know the meaning of those flowers the reader got? Why she wears what she does? What the lighting means? Why I say “Hello fiends”?I have those answers!

Thank you all for staying with me through this journey. It warms my heart to see that we’re almost to 5,000 hits! That’s CRAZY! So thank you thank you thank you. I will try my best to make you proud.

With lots of love,

-S

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Men I’ve Always Meant to Write for Masterlist

A little collection of the blorbos that have often been on my mind, but rarely been in my WIPs. Better - Don Draper x Reader

The Starlight Room - Don Draper

Multitudes - Don Eppes x Reader

The Other Half - Bale!Bruce Wayne x Reader

More Than Enough - Harvey Specter x Reader

Wicked Game - Daniel Le Domas x Reader

[barbiewritesstuff]

There's a don draper x reader tag????? SPRINTS

AHHHHHH I love that fanboy and star wars detail 😍 bet trivia is coming out of everybody's ears by now amd they're so sick and tired of the constant references xD rooster was totally doing that panicked eyebrow raise and Bob the cutie lil babie just wanted to disappear in his chair.

UNFFFF !!!! And it's not like Beau didn't take out his pent up frustration the same day at home whooooo boy can he hold onto his anger and of course he remembers that Hondo most likely saw the picture and he had to have a punishment lined up for that separately there's no way you're getting off the hook for that lip stunt soon.

So NATURALLY you're sore and covered in marks the next day and ok so maybe someone notices and pokes fun (it would be Hangman tho wouldn't it) and you're sleepy so Mav totally kicks your ass in dogfiting and now your sore and humiliated ass is doing pushups while having to listen to Hangman's incessant spiel and Beau just happens to pass by and hear it and ooooohhhh idk what happens after but I'm betting it'd be a delicious mixture of a possessive and smug AF Admiral 😏

So, sorry for the late response, I don’t tumblr too much at work because the app eats my data BUT now I’m on HOLIDAYS!!!! I am free to think about the thots you send me!!

So, Fanboy and Star Wars is not the love story you think it is. He has a strange relationship with the franchise in that he likes the films, he LOVES the universe but he doesn’t actually believe the films should have been about Leia, Luke and Han, or even Anakin, Padme and Obi Wan (DO NOT talk about the sequels) but about the millions of other more interesting characters like Salacious B. Crumb, Yaddle or even Temiri Blagg… Anyway, it’s best not to ask him about it because he will talk your ear off. 

Rooster was ABSOLUTELY doing the panicked eyebrow raise!!! That boy was trying to calculate an escape plan the second he saw the Admiral’s entire demeanour change!

Now Bob, Bobby boy, took the T-Rex approach from Jurassic Park. He was standing as still as he could manage, as if Cyclone was going to simply forget he existed if he didn’t move.

Now Beau doesn’t actually make it home with you. He has the key to an empty ensign dorm and bends you over the desk right there in one of the rooms. Not because he’s angry, necessarily, but because his fingers seem to automatically pull up the picture whenever he unlocks his phone and by five pm when you’re both done for the day Beau is HORNY. He wants you and he wants you now. 

But yes, you’re right, after that he punishes you twice, once because he wants you to get the message and then once more when Hondo sends him an email about something happening on base and he’s reminded that your picture was seen by someone else. By the end of the evening, you can no longer talk and you certainly cannot walk. In fact, when you make it out of Cyclone’s bed in the morning your legs are still shaky and you have to hold yourself up against the wall when you shower.

Okay, so I know you said someone would make a comment during dogfighting but consider this: it happens during the dogfight football scene. Because Beau is a very possessive man and that means he absolutely marks you up!!! You’re covered in hickeys and you’re pretty sure there’s a handprint on your ass from where he spanked you!! 

So obviously when you get to the beach for dogfight football someone is bound to notice. Now Hangman is the obvious choice but actually I think he keeps his mouth shut, ESPECIALLY when he notices Beau next to Mav and he sees Cyclone’s eyes fixed on you with a little smug grin on his face. 

No, I think it’s either Bob (because our little Angel thinks you might have gotten hurt (or he pretends, because he knows what you’ve been up to, just not who with and he likes to stir shit and cause chaos)) or maybe Fanboy… But can you imagine Hondo’s face? Because he’s refereeing the game!! He’s there!!! And he’s seen your everything pop up on the Admiral’s phone and now he’s seeing you all marked up, claimed and with a fucking handprint on your butt cheek!!! He is going to pass out!!!

I love this all so much!!! Thank you for your brain!

[bubble-tea-bunny]

slow start

[don draper x reader]

author’s note: just started watching mad men and i really enjoy it so far, especially all the colors like wow

word count: 1,345

You wake up to the feeling of lips trailing along the curve of your neck. It tickles, and you whine quietly as you try to move away, but an arm wrapped firmly around your waist keeps you in place.

“Good morning,” a gravelly voice still rife with sleep greets you.

You finally open your eyes and squint against the light pouring in from the window. You turn onto your back and are met with Don’s sleepy smile. He’s propped himself up on his elbow to look at you better. “Morning,” you respond softly before yawning. Don chuckles and brings up his hand to brush away the strands of hair obscuring your face. You try to glance at the alarm clock on the nightstand but he blocks it from view. “What time is it?”

“Does it matter?” Don plants kisses on your face—on your forehead, on the tip of your nose, on the corner of your lips. Before he can actually kiss you on the lips, you gently push him away with a giggle.

“It matters for you, because you have a job to get to.” As soon as you finish this statement, Don sneaks in that last kiss.

He sighs heavily and plops back down next to you, the mattress bouncing slightly. “I could just call in sick…” He gives you a side glance, eyes hopeful that you’ll tell him that it’s an excellent suggestion, that he should spend the whole day with you in this bed and never leave it.

You turn onto your side to face him, one hand resting underneath your head. “If I remember correctly, you’re supposed to be presenting to Belle Jolie today. And you can’t miss that.”

Another sigh. “I’m sure they’d do fine without me.”

You laugh and this time it’s you who props yourself up on your elbows to look at him. “I don’t know, Don… You never let clients walk out the door. Not until they’ve said yes. Few have such a way with words.”

Don leans over to grab his cigarettes and lighter, and you glance at the clock: 7:30. Then your gaze slides back to the man next to you, and you watch as he lights his cigarette. He takes a long drag, his first of the day, and breathes out smoke, a hazy cloud that hangs between the two of you before eventually disappearing. He looks at you again. “Is that so?”

You shrug. “I mean, that’s why I’ve stuck around,” you joke.

Don mocks hurt. “And here I thought it was my good looks that kept you from walking out the door,” he says, equally playful.

“Certainly part of it.” You chuckle as you sit up, legs crossed. “But you writers are talented.”

“I’m sure Pete could handle it. He’s determined to come into his own. Become one of the big dogs.” Don sets a large hand on your thigh, sliding it up along your skin and beneath the button-up you wear—which is his, might he add—until his fingers reach the junction where your thigh met your hip. You’re not wearing anything underneath the shirt, and it makes him smile.

You set your own hand atop his to keep him from doing anything and raise a brow. “You need to get to work, mister.”

He sighs for the third time this morning, but this is one of defeat. He sits up and sticks his cigarette in the ash tray before returning his attention to you. “Well if I have to go in, I’ll be needing this.” He reaches forward and tugs gently at his white button-up draped over your smaller form. The shoulder seams hang far past your less broad shoulders, and the cuffs which usually fit snug to his wrists are loose around your own. The extra fabric on the sleeves is bunched up.

Your brows furrow. “You have plenty of shirts in the closet.”

“This is my lucky shirt.”

Your confusion dissipates and you roll your eyes, already knowing where he’s heading with this. But you continue speaking anyway. “Your lucky shirt?”

“I wear it for all my presentations.”

You know that’s a lie. The mischievous look in Don’s eyes shows that he knows you know. The two of you have devolved into a staring contest for a few moments, to see who would crack first. When neither of you still hasn’t said anything, he begins to unbutton the shirt, slowly revealing your bare form. You observe his face, at the way he’s so enamored with the task at hand. Once the shirt is unbuttoned he doesn’t push it off you. His hands set themselves on the warm skin of your waist and you suck in a breath at the coolness of them. He mutters an apology, but still his hands never leave you, sliding along your curves until he reaches the underside of your breasts. He runs his thumb over your nipple and you bite your lip.

“You can’t be late,” you force out. You can’t afford to be the one to cave, not when you’re the one making him go to work in the first place.

“I’m not going to be late,” Don replies, eyes finally meeting yours again. He kisses you, and it’s deeper now that the two of you are more awake. You feel him pushing the shirt off your shoulders, and you shiver at the cold air. He runs his hands along your arms, along the goosebumps that rise at his touch.

And then he pulls away. You chase his lips almost instinctively and he chuckles. Your eyes slide open as he grabs his shirt and stands, walking across the room to grab an undershirt and a fresh pair of pants. You don’t move to cover yourself up. That kiss had made you sufficiently heated enough that you’re no longer cold.

“Is there anything specific you want for dinner?” you inquire, flopping down onto your back, your head at the foot of the mattress now. “I’m going to the market today.”

Don glances at you as he buttons up his shirt. You stretch out like a cat, arms high above your head and back arching. He wants nothing more than to get back in bed with you, but he knows you won’t let him. Sometimes it seems you’re more uptight about his job than he is. “You can surprise me.” He retreats briefly into the ensuite bathroom.

You purse your lips in thought as you hear the sink running. “I guess I could. Lisa mentioned some new dishes she’s made. Maybe I’ll call her later to ask about them.” You roll onto your stomach and rest your head on your propped up hands. “What about dessert? Or do you want that to be a surprise too?”

Don emerges from the bathroom, looking more prim and proper now. He takes a moment to think about your query as he shrugs on his jacket, then smirks. “How about you, wearing nothing but a bow?”

You humor him. “Maybe. But don’t get your hopes up.”

“A little late for that, birdie. Now all I’m going to be thinking about at work is you naked and wrapped up like the perfect present.” Don walks up to you and supports himself with one hand on the mattress so he can reach forward with his free hand to slap your ass.

You chuckle but can’t deny the heat you feel in your belly. You do your best to ignore it and smile as he leans down to kiss your head. “I’ll see you tonight,” he says warmly before leaving the room. You listen to him grab his things and only move when the door opens and shuts, leaving you in the house alone.

With a sigh you fold your arms and rest your head on them, legs kicking back and forth slowly as you think about the errands you need to run today. Maybe you can squeeze in some time to stop by the craft store. They should have the perfect roll of red ribbon.

[jeanbeaux]

OF WHIMS AND WHISKEY

erwin smith x f!reader

w/c: 2.3k

warnings: 18+/smut/MINORS DNI, period era reflective misogyny (its the 60’s), unprotected sex, cum play, finger fucking, age gap, (not relevant to the story but reader is in her early 20’s Erwin is late 30’s), reader and erwin are smoking & drinking but neither are inebriated!

a/n: this is apart of @welcometotheclubhoe’s all around the world collab!! thank u so much for letting me join bby. anyways, this is a mad men!au of sorts so yes i made Erwin a Don Draper type, i hope y’all enjoy!! as always, much love to my beta readers @aiiwa @asahiswrld & @smoochiesdiarie, thank u all for tolerating my filth ❤️❤️.

Having risen to the role of creative director and senior partner at Sina Rose & Reiss at the age of 38, Erwin Smith had found himself growing numb to the luxuries that had greeted him at each level with his rise to the top. As the title on his business cards grew longer, the fabric in his suits became more expensive, the liquor he drank was richer, and the throngs of women that he encountered simply grew in number and beauty. Erwin Smith could very much be described as the man who had it all.

And yet day by day, he found himself wanting to have nothing to do with any of it.

 A suit was a suit, whiskey will always burn it’s way down your throat, and every woman who approached him simply melded to his whims in the hopes of him granting them the honor of being Mrs. Smith. His business partners never understood what he meant by this, scoffing at the idea of how Erwin Smith could be discontent with his position in life. Nile always chides him saying that this was simply the consequence of being a bachelor for far too long, and if he had to deal with a pregnant wife, two kids and the idleness of the picket fences, he’d be cursing himself for ever getting disillusioned with the freedom of the city.

Perhaps he was right, but one thing the firm could not overlook was that Erwin’s marital status made it much easier for them to entertain the gifts the clientele would offer in order to gain better deals. Marie would have Nile’s neck if they had a repeat of the Reeves incident, and Miche was far too smitten with his fiancé to tempt fate, which is why Erwin finds himself wrapping up the dealings of a consultation alone with you. 

He was sure tonight would be the usual song and dance, a fancy dinner on the client’s dime with a few dolled up faces to join them, and sure enough, he found you waiting for him at the table Marley Pharmaceuticals had reserved at Chez Paradis. He tried to suppress his smirk at the fact that the pretty secretary that junior copywriter Kirstein was fawning over was his date for the night, thinking perhaps for the poor boy's sake he wouldn’t take things too far.

However, the twisted jovialness died quickly when you informed him that you were not waiting on Mr. Jaeger to return from the restroom, and that he had entrusted you to handle the details of the ad layout by yourself. Erwin should have known that the slimy blonde he was dealing with earlier in the week would have pulled a stunt like this, but he swallows his irritation down to indulge in the French cuisine in your company. You two make pleasant conversation over classic novels and the works of the beatniks over Pinot Grigio and terrine, Erwin finding himself surprised at how much you know about Hemmingway and Salinger. Most girls like you were more enthralled by cheap romance novels, yet here you were, countering his disdain for Kerouac’s prose with valid points. Very little progress on the true purpose of the dinner had been made by the time desert had rolled around, so it was agreed that the business portion of the night would be moved to a nightcap in his office. 

You’re lighting a cigarette, gazing at the skyline out of the floor to ceiling windows as Erwin pours scotch for the both of you. The city continues to rumble beneath you, the twinkling lights of showboards, the rumble of the cars on the street. Even from a 104 stories up, you feel like you can hear the laughter of everyone who was enchanted by the New Maria City nightlife.

“That’s a nasty habit, you know,” Erwin remarks as he hands you a glass.

“Some would say so,” you muse, “But your firm’s done a pretty good job of convincing the public that it's not.”

He chuckles as he takes the cigarette from your offering hand, the tobacco roll appearing comically small between his large fingers as he takes a drag. “Surgeon General Hange is still on my neck for that one, but it’s not my job to sell the truth, it’s to sell happiness.”

“Then let us toast to happiness,” you say, “May Erwin Smith, the man who makes death look delectable, weave a story of the same caliber for Marley Pharm.” 

The deft clink of the crystal fills the room, Erwin giving you a wry smile before saying, “I’m afraid this story might be tougher than we thought. This product of yours, it’s bold.”

You purse painted lips over the rim of the glass. “It’s why we came to the best. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little challenge now.” 

“A contraceptive pill is sure to rock the boat, but that’s not even my main concern. Who would we market it to? With soldiers returning home from the war, undoubtedly there will be a second baby boom. And while we may know that it’s reversible, a pill sounds like a permanent solution.” 

“But that’s why we are paying you, isn’t it? To tell the public what it really is?”

“And why would you assume that housewives and their husbands would approve even after we’ve told them? The cigarette fantasy was successful because it soothes them from facing the truths of their routine, what you’re asking for is an upheaval of the notions and ways of your target demographic.”

You mull over what he says, letting it digest as you tap your cigarette into the ashtray on his desk. “Mr. Smith, do you know what goes into making our pills?”

“I believe the reports had said something about a combination of hormones.”

“Estrogen and progesterone, to be precise. However, slapping that across the label is neither flashy or print cost effective, which is how we came up with the consumer name — Liberio — to represent the freedom that comes with the protection. Housewives and husbands can have their opinions, but I think you’re missing the untapped market here.”

“And who would that be?” He asks incredulously.

“Women, Mr. Smith, and solely them. Times are changing. You can still hold on to the past as much as you like, but women want more these days. Even housewives do, but they are too afraid to say it. Why else are we going to college more, marrying later, having children later? Liberio is meant to empower those women, so they have freedom in their choices. There’s the story, Mr. Smith, so tell me, how should we say it best?”

For the first time in his life, Erwin feels bested at his own game. He’s dealt with plenty of people who have gone against his advice numerous times before and the failure that brought to their sales — but to have been presented with a better strategy than anything the copywriters had struggled with for weeks by a client, by a woman, was surely a first. He should feel irate, enraged even, but seeing the small smirk dance upon your lips at the fact that you’ve won simply makes the growing tension between you thicker. 

“Well, we’d need to start off with focus group testing. Find out if your theory holds true. ‘Women’ is a pretty general category, so we would need to narrow it down, so how do you suggest we do that?”

“Perhaps start testing with younger women,” you say, stepping forward to bridge the gap between you till you were a breath’s distance away from each other. 

“Single women,” you continue, and you rise up on your toes so you can whisper the final criteria in his ear. 

“Women like me.”

Whatever restraint Erwin had left in him snaps as your tongue ghosts the shell of his ear, and he’s grabbing your jaw to slant his lips against yours. You moan into his mouth as strong hands give your ass a tight squeeze before they move up to unzip your dress. The deep red fabric pools on the floor, the chill of the room leaving goosebumps on newly exposed skin. 

He takes a moment to drink it all in, the way sheer black stockings were stretching over the plush of your thighs, the way the straps connecting to the mesh garter were just guiding him to the dip of your waist, the way your nipples were pebbling against the black lace of your bra. 

His hands quickly find purchase on your body once more, grasping the underside of your thighs to prompt you to jump and wrap your legs around his waist. Your mouths connect in a searing kiss once again, his tongue sliding past your parted lips as he walks you to the window, your back hitting the glass with a dull thud.

A low groan leaves him as he pulls away seeing your flushed skin and heaving breasts. And you aren’t any less entranced by the sight of him, he looks even better when he’s undone; blonde locks messily pulled out of the neat combing and icy blue eyes taken over by lusty pupils. He cups your chin gently, his thumb running over your lips to get you to open up so he could slide his thick fingers into the cavern, and you take the cue from his raised brows as a sign to dutifully swirl your tongue around them. Erwin’s throbbing in his slacks at how your lips stretch across his digits as he pumps them in and out of your mouth, a glistening string of saliva breaking as he finally pulls them out. 

“You’re already so wet for me, darling,” he notes, earning a mewl from you as he slips his wettend fingers through your panties to run through your folds. 

“Mr. Smith,” you gasp, “Please —”

“I think we are well past formalities, don’t you agree, love?” He takes this as an opportunity to slip a finger inside you, the pace not unlike how he was abusing your mouth earlier — purposeful, powerful, leaving you yearning for more. 

You nod fervently in response, a breathless “yes, Erwin” sliding past your lips, and the act of obedience earns you another finger. Erwin’s scissoring them lazily now, stretching and pressing against your walls, and you realize he’s been trying to get you to beg for him to get to what you really want. 

“Erwin,” you plead, voice broken, “I want m-more, please just, just fuck me already.” You shift your hips in a pathetic attempt to buck on his hand, but he quickly catches on, his other hand tightening the steel grip he has on your thighs to hold you still.

“You aren’t ready for me yet, darling,” he hums, curling his fingers to strike that spongy spot. “No, not nearly enough. Want to feel you come undone like this for me first.” Your legs are starting to shake as he increases his speed, jaw trembling as you whine when he finally begins to rub his thumb over your aching clit and with two precise circles, you’re seeing stars, quivering in his hold as your release runs down his forearm.

Your hands fall from the vice grip you’ve had on his hair to claw at his belt, shifting your feet up to desperately push his slacks down. He chuckles at your neediness before wiping your slick on his boxer briefs, pulling them down to release his aching cock from his confines. 

The sight of it causes you to gulp, long and so thick with a flushed red head leaking with precum; you're not even sure you would be able to wrap your hand fully around his girth. Erwin senses your nerves as he starts to reposition you, hooking his arms underneath your knees as he lines himself up with your needy hole, murmuring reassurances into your sweat slickened skin about how he’ll take it slow. 

He pushes into you with a guttural groan, using every ounce of restraint to not just sheath himself fully; you’re just so warm, so inviting. He isn’t even half way in yet and your mind is starting to go hazy at how full you are. Your breaths are labored by the time your hips are flush with the dark blonde curls at the base of his cock, Erwin giving your walls a moment to adjust before picking you up and moving you like a doll across his length.

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly he’s reduced you to a mess, you can’t even form a coherent thought as he slams into you again and again with powerful thrusts, so you claw into the back of his dress shirt to try to ground yourself in reality. Erwin’s praises at how tight you were were punctuated with the wet slaps of skin, he wasn’t going to last for much longer if you kept clamping down on him like that, and so his hand snakes to the junction where your bodies meet again to rub at your clit, sending you hurtling into your second orgasm of the night with a broken cry that fills the office.

He follows shortly after you, hot ropes of cum filling your insides as you milk him dry. He pulls out of you with a hiss, the thick white fluid dripping out of your abused hole. His hand is back by your puffy lips again, slowly pumping with the seed flowing out of you back into your cunt.

“What?” He chuckles, responding to the questioning look in your blissed out eyes. “You did say you were protected, didn’t you?” He moves closer to press a kiss to your cheek, his aquiline nose brushing against soft skin as he leans in to whisper in your ear.

“Consider this product testing, darling.”

thx for reading!! <3 please dont recc this on tiktok.

© all rights reserved JEANBEAUX 2021. please do not copy, modify or repost my work.

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Pink Power Rankings (Pt. 1)

Hi I am here to look at famous pink outfits in film and TV history and figure out: is pink a power color for this character? I choose to leave out obvious ones like Pink Power Ranger because, duh it’s in her name and this is gonna be a long list. Also avoiding real-life figures and onscreen depictions of real life figures because keeping it short (and I don’t have the time)

Pictured above are the bridesmaids at First Daughter Luci Baines Johnson’s wedding in the 1960s. 

Mimi Tachikawa

She is the most obvious pick from Digimon and the girl most decked out in pink. To paraphrase this video from The Take: there was once a show about a strange world beyond our own, somehow a group of preteens were pulled into this world not of their accord, including a young 10 year old girl. Along with her friends they were exposed to the elements and fought monsters out to harm them, she was sexually harassed by two clearly adult digimon, uncomfortable with the elements, often had to put up with toxic masculine BS, and was often snarked at by the story and even some of her own friends for being so girly and into pink. Of course some audiences and the story were overcome with sympathy with this girl pulled away from a familiar world...

Just kidding! They weren’t and some audiences even gave her a lot of shit and this has only been recently examined. For a while Mimi Tachikawa had a problem that seemed to be well known by a lot of female characters, like Carmella Soprano, Betty and Megan Draper, Margaret Sterling, and yes Skyler White. Put a flawed, complicated woman character alongside more charismatic (and male) characters and she will be disliked (despite the audience being more likely to be she than the menfolk held up as icons). 

This is sad because looking back, Mimi was truly a badass all along: she sticks up for herself, speaks up for herself, she is unapologetic about her love of pink and girly things, she is quick to tell guys when they are getting in her space, she’s honest, she lets Tanemon go on and fight with only a sincere question if she really is going to while the others hold their Digimon down, she stands up against the Numemon who were harassing her and her friends, and she was funny as hell. Sadly it took a long while for fans to grow up but many of us, especially girls, reclaimed her as our own. It also helped that Mimi came before girly icons like Elle Woods, Leslie Knope, and Joan Holloway and also before the boom in Gen X and Millennial women contributing to comedy and starting their own stand-up specials and movies and TV.

Power Ranking: 10, all because she held her own, no matter the haters and was glad to see us no matter how odd. 

Karen Wheeler

Another complicated lady, this time older and from the 1980s. This is Karen Wheeler of Hawkins, Indiana whose children are off on their own adventure. She is trying to tap into her sexual power here. It’s dicey because the man in question is a young man and she is a unhappily married affluent housewife in the suburbs; she agrees to meet him at the motel for “private swimming lessons” and does herself up in a way inappropriate for swimming lessons (in Scarlet Letter Red to boot!), only to be stopped by the sight of her lazy husband sleeping on the Laz-E-Boy with their youngest child Holly on his chest. This season sees Karen open up to her two older children over the patriarchy and saying goodbye to a best friend and girlfriend after confessing his love for her.

Power Ranking: 6, because her sexual power was on shaky ground and only based on her looks and attention from a man but she shows some character development that season. 

Nancy Wheeler

This look was a game changer, but Nancy is no stranger to pink and preppiness. Here she is wearing an outfit that recalls the postwar “Boyfriend Shirt” from Brooks Brothers for the female collegiate set and it’s updated with long loose but pinned hair and designer (or mock) jeans. In this outfit she goes monster hunting with her younger brother Mike’s best friend’s older brother and Nancy’s classmate, Jonathon Byers and squares off with slut-shaming police officers and a mother who chastises her for lying about her whereabouts and losing her virginity while Nancy’s best friend Barb Holland is missing and she also tells off boyfriend Steve for trying to cover his ass by not participating in the police investigation. This is the look (which can easily double as office wear) when you want to go straight from school where you have an impeccable GPA to monster hunting in your neck of the woods to find the whereabouts of your best friend and for fighting the patriarchy. 

Power Ranking: 8, this is a girl on the move as we can see with her rolled up sleeves. 

Eleven

The Iconic Look, the look where she made a boy wet his pants, found two missing kids, broke a bully’s arm. The Polly Flinders dress would alter the way we see girls in dainty pastel pink dresses. 

Power Ranking: 10, can you do all that without touching someone?

Barb Holland

The most tragic look for this was the sweater that Barbara Holland (1967-1983) wore when she was taken by the Demogorgan and killed. This was the look where she was the recipient of a wet willie from a boy who looked down on her and her best friend who was dating his popular friend, the look where she accompanied her best friend reluctantly to the popular boy’s party, and where her friend turned her back on her concerns. This is the look of a passive and traditional (to her detriment) femininity. She did gain a huge following who cried foul over her fate. 

Power Ranking: 4, points up for the fandom and devotion but she wasn’t empowered. 

Erica Sinclair

That was depressing, let’s go to the girl who embodies America: Hawkins resident wise-ass, the girl who kept her observations and words as tight as her corn rows, and her planning as precise as her perfectly well done baby hairs (Black readers, feel free to correct me as I document her fabulousness), My Little Pony nerd and Economics wonk, and American Heroine. Erica sassed her way into Stranger Things with a raised eyebrow and a lusciously girly girl wardrobe that stands out and fits in with her Midwestern environment. She’s no stranger to pink and she commands attention and the best service at Scoops Ahoy and manages to get several ice cream dishes for free (the most elaborate ones) before getting in on finding the secret Soviet military base. Girlfriend manages to deal with teenage shenanigans, assassins, creatures from another world, near-death experiences, almost being captured by foreign enemies and the most awkward sing-a-long ever. She doesn’t seem to have lost her child-appropriate enthusiasm for games even when telling off old balding men for getting her age right.

Power Ranking: 10, you can’t spell America without Erica

Joan Holloway

Pink is an appropriate color for the resident femme intellectual of Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce, it shows that Joan is willing to defy “the rules” of fashion for redheads (she also wears red) and it ties into her 1950s persona of the bombshell who is trying to get married to a man who’d move her out to the upper-middle class suburbs and she wouldn’t have to work. That was Joan at the beginning: over time she started to own her natural independent streak and her willingness to buck expectations of her based on her gender and looks but also deals with the same men who ogle her, disrespecting her intellect, her hard work ethic, and even her body (fuck you Greg Harris). In this fuchsia number (still in the pink family), she sets up a luncheon with a colleague (Peggy Olson) where she pitches the idea of them setting up a production company with their names, while Peggy didn’t take, Joan starts her own “Holloway & Harris” with her babysitter and mother. Sealing her end as a strong, productive, independent woman who learned to own herself as she was. 

Power Ranking: 10, men may like scarves but women like not being tethered to men. 

Betty Draper Francis

Meet Elizabeth Hofstadt Francis and her ex-husband Don Draper (actually Dick Whitman), for about 10 years of marriage, they have enjoyed a union where they looked like a couple right out of a magazine, he being a square jawed handsome self-made man with an athletic build who often is compared to old-school movie stars like Tyrone Power or Clark Gable or Cary Grant and she, a beautiful model from a wealthy family in the Main Line area of Philadelphia who studied anthropology at Bryn Mawr and speaks fluent Italian and is often compared to Grace Kelly (and other Hitchcock Blondes). But the interior of their perfect colonial in the suburbs hid an ugly reality where she suffered from ennui and was a brat to her kids while he gaslighted and cheated on her with other women, more modern women, like she wasn’t enough. Eventually she found out his true identity and floored that she had been living a lie and gave up her last name for an imposter, she divorced him and married a man she met at her husband’s work function. 

About three years later, Don is happily married with a younger and much more modern woman (Megan Draper) while Betty is married to a man who loves and accepts her even at her worst but to her chagrin has put on a lot of weight (a blow to a former model who grew up being raised that weight gain or being fat was the worst thing a woman could be) and she hasn’t dealt with her unhappiness in a productive manner. 

For a while well into 1968, she accepted the extra pounds (although looking like she lost some) and coming middle-age and even dyed her hair black, until her new husband tells her he plans to run for office and as he was excitedly recounting what is to be done, says “Everyone will see you” not knowing that his young, vain wife would read this scenario differently and after assessing her new look to an old evening gown of her’s, she sped up her weight loss and returned to her slim and blonde look that turned heads. Soon she takes a drive to her son’s summer camp and runs into her ex-husband and they feel the old spark and sleep together; it is there she tells him that he as a lover is different than him as a husband and admits about the young wife she looked down on, “That Poor Girl, she doesn’t know that loving you is the worst thing to get to you”. Next morning she has breakfast with her new husband, who is none the wiser, while Don heads back to the city. But is Betty really happy?

Power Ranking: 7, not satisfied but has received some closure about her relationship with her ex-husband. 

Sally Draper

This is Sally in her birthday party dress. On that day her father built her a pastel colored playhouse, Mother prepared treats for the adults and kids for her birthday party, she and her friends played out their parents’ (admittedly shitty) marriages at the playhouse, her father goes out to get her birthday cake from the bakery and returns only with a golden retriever named Polly, while her unhappy mother fumes about her husband doing something shitty and humiliating and not being allowed to ream him out because he brought a dog and that makes him the good guy. 

Power Ranking: 5, she gets a dog but is still young and dependent on her messy parents. 

Rachel Menken

Meet Rachel Menken Katz, running into her ex Don Draper while he is out with his latest mistress and she with her husband Tilden Katz. She would end this series as dying from cancer after having two young children and running her father’s department store and instead of flowers, requesting that donations be made for a Jewish hospital in the Jell-O Belt. In 1960 she fell in love with an ad man who proved to have been miserable and having lost his mother during his birth, as she did, she also competed in what was called “a man’s world” at a time when women were relegated to assistant roles at best and she split from him when he wants to run away with her, mostly because he wants to run away from his issues and not because of his feelings for her. As her sister Barbara said, “she had everything”.

Power Ranking: 8, she ends up dying young but she manages to “have it all”. 

Megan Draper

Meet Megan Calvet, later to become Megan Draper. How does she become the next Mrs. Draper? At this timeline, Don Draper is dealing with life after divorcing Betty Draper (now Francis) and is trying (and failing) to quit alcohol and trying to date the intelligent, warm, no-nonsense, and close-to-his-age Dr. Faye Miller. But that night Megan, who noticed she caught her boss’s eye, decides to make the moves and in a uncharacteristically demure (many fans thought she looked frumpy here) but at worst basic outfit, she sleeps with him. This is the outfit for a quickie that later won his heart and has him pop the question and she becomes part of Creative at their work. But is this really for the best?

Power Ranking: 7, she married Don Draper but then again she married Don Draper. 

Peggy Olson

Meet Peggy Olson, who officially walked away from the things holding her back from feeling at ease with herself and her choices. After a whole season where the priest impressed by her skills has learned that Peggy had a child out of wedlock and put him up for adoption and starts pressuring her to admit her “sin” while Peggy would rather move on with her life, she tells him they don’t see eye to eye and walks away from the Catholic Church and while the Cuban Missile Crisis is going on, she lays down in her bed with the pink comforter and pillows with her pink floral nightgown, she lays herself down to sleep and prays with a contented look on her face.

Power Ranking: 9, she’s not fully absolved of the issues plaguing her but refusing to wear a hairshirt and beat herself up? Awesome. 

Dawn Chambers

Meet Dawn Chambers, from 1966-1968, she was the only black person (let alone black secretary) at the uber-white Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce (pun intended for the decor) and like many minorities in positions occupied by less marginalized people, Dawn had to keep her head low and not stand out (despite some co-workers considering her as remarkable as a sore thumb). But then in 1968, she made the mistake of punching in for a co-worker and they get caught by Joan Holloway (and it’s so horrid, thank God Don Draper intervened on Dawn’s behalf and Pete reminds them of how the ad agencies are being looked at for their minority quotas). This was also the season where Dawn took to wearing blazers over her blouses and skirts or dresses and here Dawn is wearing a conservative grey blazer over a pink shirt with ruffles down the front and a red plaid skirt when her work life alters for the...better? It is there that Joan sternly gives her the promotion of keeper of the keys, title not pay, and Dawn tells her that she decided she doesn’t care whether other people in the office hate her but she doesn’t want to disappoint Joan, who withholds any warmth or approval. The next season we see Dawn stand up to a entitled and mediocre white man (Lou Avery) and first she is moved to reception and then she takes over Joan’s post as Office Manager (With her own office! And the salary!) while Joan goes upstairs to her own office in Accounts. 

Power Ranking: 10, this is a big fucking deal for a Black Woman in a mostly-White corporate setting during the 1960s. 

Trudy Campbell

1970, Trudy Vogel Campbell has remarried her estranged husband Pete and they are moving out to Wichita, Kansas with their young daughter Tammy where he will work a plush job for Lear Jet (and they are being flown out by them!). 

For the past ten years, Trudy and Pete have had a difficult marriage where he was dissatisfied with the choices he made and that he really didn’t want to marry her, and Trudy had to deal with being a woman with fertility issues at a time when motherhood was seen as a primary goal for women and women who didn’t have kids or chose not to were seen as weird at best. They had to deal with pressure from her father to adopt, his parents snotty issues, she had to deal with her husband’s attitude, his envy of others, and his cheating. But Trudy laid her boundaries and was able to stand up to her husband, without losing her gracious manner and her zest for society. She tried to be a supportive wife and she found some common ground with him, when it comes to common decency and politics, and they make an amazing pair on the dance floor. 

Then came the end after their divorce: they behave more amicably, he’s more involved with their young daughter, he fights for Trudy, and he gives an amazing pitch for her to come back. She takes him back but lets him know that she isn’t the same girl he married a decade before and she looks at things for how they are. 

Plus she is gonna rule Wichita!

Power Ranking: 8, she accepts there will be compromises but states her boundaries and has them met and will be a society wife. 

Elle Woods

Who shows up in court in LA hot sandals, a pink tote bag for her canine companion Bruiser, long glossy hair, and a curve-hugging but professional power dress in shocking pink? Elle Woods. After trying hard to be taken seriously by her fuckboi ex Warner and her snotty, neutral toned Harvard classmates and learning that her Professor got her in an internship for a important lawcase (where they defend her fellow Sorority Sister) just for her looks, she leans into both her natural intelligence, expertise, and love of pink and all things girly to defend her friend and solve the case. 

Also can we talk about how both Legally Blonde and Bridget Jones’s Diary are both movies where the attractive blonde protagonist is humiliated by showing up for a costume party in a Playboy Bunny costume under false pretenses and she deals with sexual harassment and being underestimated regarding her intellect? But LB ages better because it kinda pokes fun at the beauty myth more and is more inter-sectional and Elle finds supportive women to add to her posse of supportive sisters and she supports other women in turn.

Power Ranking: 10, Sisterhood and owning your personality quirks and interests and boldly defending others is always a win. Case Dismissed. 

Lorelei Lee

The ultimate Pink Power icon and the one who set the path for all femme-y and cute loving blonde protagonists with wit and ambition. This is the song for a woman who sings about how transactional heteronormative relationships in the mid-century were and how the performative actions of men in heterosexual relationships don’t do much to improve women’s lives, like paying the rent and that they would use women for their own uses and could be shallow enough to dump women if they lost their beauty and/or got older, so for insurance make sure you get money or rather things that can be hocked and worn with pride, like diamonds. Tom & Lorenzo covered this in their One Iconic Look series and this sequenced has been spoofed several times in Hey Arnold!, Crazy-Ex Girlfriend, Birds of Prey, and most famously by Madonna, and it is the look for women who not only feel good about their curves but also want to show them off.  As T&Lo said about the ditzy Lorelai and her savvier friend Dorothy Malone (Jane Russell):

These women were all about power, control, and looking out for each other. Men were side stories or play things.

And in the repressive Fifties it was outrageously pink and smelt of female sexual power (pink pussies). 

Power Ranking: 11, hawwwwwwww that’s what you get for having an iconic and referenced look!

Marge Simpson

The most nostalgically remembered outfit in cartoons and the most written about in think pieces and articles by Millennial women who grew up watching The Simpsons and the rest of what the Animation Renaissance had to offer. In “Scenes from the Class Struggle in Springfield”, the family goes out to the outlet mall in Ogdenville where Marge and Lisa happen upon a beautiful pink Chanel suit that even left my cartoon-apathetic mother enthusiastic and Marge is soon seen by a old high school friend who mistakes her for being wealthy and Marge goes along with the ruse and is invited to Country Club activities with the ladies where she shows up in several talented alterations of her suit (until getting destroyed by Santa’s Little Helper, RIP Iconic suit), she also gives her family a hard time about how they don’t fit into that Country Club Scene and then when forced to see how she hurt them (and even Baby Maggie), turns around and tells them she loves Homer’s sense of humor, Lisa’s compassion and outspoken human rights politics, and just loves Bart (even if she can’t figure what she likes about him). 

This also happens to be another instance where Marge sacrifices a social life (she’s not seen with a lot of friends who have her back, aside from a brief time with Ruth Powers), chances for social mobility, and her own self-improvement for her family. While we love a mother who prioritizes her family’s autonomy, we still kind of hope that she didn’t have to sacrifice her own identity for her family. 

Power Ranking: 8, points for the iconic suit and it’s layered meanings. 

Bridget Jones

A rare move of power for a normally powerless and insecure woman and in a shocking pink blouse and black slacks that show off her hourglass curves and go with her coloring. 

Pink is not a color Bridget isn’t familiar with, especially with this deleted scene that shows her in Pink Passivity (and it looks delicate on a blonde with blue eyes and pale skin but could risk her fading but I as a brunette would look popping!). But here after entering a relationship with Daniel Cleaver (who is a walking red flag) and finding out he was keeping her as his side-ho to his skinny, bitchy American girlfriend and colleague and I have my problems with Bridget Jones as a series (which would take several parts) and I can talk about how Peggy Olson and Joan Holloway were a lot better written versions of her (klutziness and awkwardness but succeeding!). But this is a huge power move where Bridget wears a simple outfit that owns her looks (even being affirmed by a older and previously antagonistic co-worker that she’s actually thinner than the average woman and she can’t back down, like ever) and is able to quit her job for a better and more glamorous job and tell off her ex-boyfriend for how poorly he has treated her. And all her co-workers smile off as she walks off in triumph after telling Daniel she’d rather wipe Saddam Hussein’s ass. I kinda wish I could go Joan Rivers on Daniel here. 

Also points on that bolder shade of pink. 

Power Ranking: 10, no one gets to burn a cheating, manipulative bridge like that (and yes she is conventionally prettier than I but that’s not the point). 

Alice Macray

I know, I should shut my mouth and wear beige but my personal color analysis says I’m a winter person.

It’s an interesting power move, albeit within the confines of patriarchal society and even the only defiance that wouldn’t get her tsked at because she is serving the Male Gaze. And yet it’s a natural part of her characterization in this part of the series: the traditional housewife stubbornly keeping her pedestal and fighting to stall progress for other women pursuing other paths (part of wearing beige and shutting up as Mother of the Groom is to allow the Bride to take center stage) but it’s also a path she had to take what with being a dyslexic in a less informed and intolerant era and growing up in a sheltered, conservative Catholic family. This is also the outfit she wears when she spots a younger wife being forcibly yanked by her husband, alluding that the patriarchy isn’t benevolent. 

This isn’t her first time in pink, or even a pink and blue combination: she wears pink when she goes and gives out bread to defeat the feminists at the Illinois Legislature, she wears pink and blue when Bella Abzug calls on her and her peers’ hypocrisy, she drinks a Pink Lady when she is given a “Christian Pill” and it matches her lavender dress. It’s also ironic: pink, white, and blue are the colors of the Transgender pride flag and she is defending White Heternormative Cisnormative Christian Values TM and it’s also a color combo that shows up in the beauty parlor she frequents where she and her friends wring their hands over working women gaining more ground and feeling that their comfortable privilege is being taken away by women who sully their hands working outside the home while they stay home with their children in their coordinated pastels and have maids of color keep their worlds nice and orderly. 

But she is wearing a pink maxi dress with a high neckline and a very prominent hat that provides very ladylike shade for her fair skin, just like our first Pink Power Girl Mimi Tachikawa, and like Mimi, Alice will take a life-altering short trip to Wonderland. And like Pink Power Girl Eleven, she finds her true hidden power and starts wearing more saturated colors as time goes on. 

Power Ranking: 5, she is on her way to breaking out of her little safe world and doing more than subverting a wedding tradition. 

[impala-dreamer]

Have you ever considered writing any crossover fics? For example; Supernatural Universe and The Vampire Diaries Universe? Just curious. I've considered it, but didn't really know where to begin.

I’ve written an SPN x The Magicians...  A New Kind Of Magic

and there’s a drabble somewhere that’s Jensen x Reader x JDM as Negan... so kinda... I also have a SPN x Parks n Rec wip somewhere and a DW x SPN smut in the pile. 

Crossovers are hard for me because I prefer to write canon as opposed to AUs, so it takes a lot of work. The hardest part is working out the logic of HOW and WHY they are crossing over. Like... I’d freaking love a Don Draper x Reader x Sam piece, but... HOW... I’d love to see Rupert Giles chat with Bobby Singer but again... WHY? HOW? I refuse to just toss characters together for no reason. It has to make sense within the context of each show’s canon.

That’s just my opinion on my work. If you want to crossover- go for it. As long as you’re happy with you work, that’s all that matters. But, I’d start with a HOW and go from there :)  

[ucflibrary]

“Loveliest of trees, the cherry now Is hung with bloom along the bough,   And stands about the woodland ride   Wearing white for Eastertide.   Now, of my threescore years and ten, Twenty will not come again,    And take from seventy springs a score,   It only leaves me fifty more.   

And since to look at things in bloom    Fifty springs are little room, About the woodlands I will go    To see the cherry hung with snow.” -A.E. Housman, Loveliest of Trees

 Welcome to National Poetry Month!

The Academy of American Poets, inspired by the success of Black History Month and Women’s History Month, created National Poetry Month in 1996. It is the largest literary celebration in the world and UCF Libraries are proud to do their part.

UCF Libraries have gathered suggestions to feature 14 books of poetry that are currently in the UCF collection. These works represent a wide range of favorite poetry books of our faculty and staff.

These, and additional titles, are also on the Featured Bookshelf display on the second (main) floor next to the bank of two elevators where they are joined by a selection of nature poetry.

Click on the Keep Reading link below to see the full descriptions and catalog links.

 A Shropshire Lad by A.E. Housman

Housman is a high-water mark of British lyric poetry, and this fine production captures perfectly his strong, melodic beat and decisive rhyme, and his wonderful way with words. Samuel West's cultivated Midlands accent may not be specifically Shropshire, but his voice and reading are true to Housman who was not, after all, some rough Shropshire lad himself but an Oxford don. His Loveliest of Trees, the Cherry Now and To an Athlete Dying Young are beautifully rendered here. West, you feel, reads poetry as it should be read confidently, with ease and conviction, as if all the world spoke in meter and rhyme.

Suggested by Megan Haught, Teaching & Engagement/Research & Information Services

 All the Poems of Stevie Smith by Stevie Smith

Stevie Smith is among the most popular British poets of the twentieth century. Her poem “Not Waving but Drowning” has been widely anthologized, and her life was celebrated in the classic 1978 movie Stevie. This new and updated edition of Stevie Smith’s collected poems includes hundreds of works from her thirty-five-year career. The Smith scholar Will May collects poems and illustrations from published volumes, provides fascinating details about their provenance, and describes the various versions Smith presented. Satirical, mischievous, teasing, disarming, Smith’s poems take readers from comedy to tragedy and back again, while her line drawings are by turns unsettling and beguiling.

Suggested by Rachel Edford, Teaching & Engagement

 Calling a Wolf a Wolf by Kaveh Akbar

This highly-anticipated debut boldly confronts addiction and courses the strenuous path of recovery, beginning in the wilds of the mind. Poems confront craving, control, the constant battle of alcoholism and sobriety, and the questioning of the self and its instincts within the context of this never-ending fight.

Suggested by Sandy Avila, Research & Information Services

 Dirt Eaters by Teri Youmans Grimm

The book was born of the consequences of leaving a place and family steeped in the history and traditions of the South. The poet, having moved to the Midwest, has become a sort of expatriate in her father's eyes, and she herself has underestimated the hold that home would have over her. These poems are a mystical journey back through her ancestry. The dead serve as conjurers and characters both real and mythologized throughout the collection--Uncle Seward, who uses dice and the Bible as a means of prophecy; blind Aunt Ater, who finds solace and doom in biblical numbers; an unlucky man facing certain death as he stands on an alligator's back; and women who gorge themselves on dirt--all find their way back to life in these poems. Dirt Eaters seeks grace in the unlikeliest of people and places. Bound up with the peculiar, however, is the poet's own desire to reconcile the handed-down shame and faulty pride within herself as well as the religion of the ecstatic within her own quiet questioning.

Suggested by Rebecca Hawk, Circulation

 Enough Rope by Dorothy Parker

Suggested by Jamie LaMoreaux, Acquisitions & Collections

 New & Selected Poems by Stephen Dunn

Stephen Dunn is justly celebrated as one of the strongest poets of his generation. Now in this rich gathering, he selects from his eight collections and includes sixteen new poems marked by the haunting "Snowmass Cycle". The heralded clarity and intelligence of Dunn's poems are in full evidence here, as is his ability to charm and evoke pathos. As ever, wit happily resides with seriousness, affirmation coexists with hardship. "I want to find the cool, precise language / for how passion gives rise to passion," Dunn says in one of the new poems. For two decades, such insistence has led him to a wise lucidity that places him among our consequential poets.

Suggested by Rebecca Hawk, Circulation

 Poems by Edna St. Vincent Millay

One of America's best-loved poets, Edna St Vincent Millay (1892-1950) burst onto the literary scene at a very young age and won the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry in 1923. Her lyrics and sonnets have thrilled generations of readers long after the notoriously bohemian lifestyle she led in Greenwich Village in the 1920s ceased to shock them.

Suggested by Jamie LaMoreaux, Acquisitions & Collections

 Poems: North & South, a cold spring by Elizabeth Bishop

Elizabeth Bishop was an American poet and writer from Worcester, Massachusetts. She was the Poet Laureate of the United States from 1949 to 1950, a Pulitzer Prize winner in 1956. and a National Book Award Winner for Poetry in 1970. She is considered one of the most important and distinguished American poets of the 20th century.

Suggested by Rachel Edford, Teaching & Engagement

 Selected Poetry of Ogden Nash: 650 rhymes, verses, lyrics, and poems by Ogden Nash

Gathers poems on a variety of subjects including love, marriage, parenthood, modern life, animals, aging, travel, work, and food.

Suggested by Rachel Edford, Teaching & Engagement & Jamie LaMoreaux, Acquisitions & Collections

 The 100 Best Poems of All Time edited by Leslie Pockell

This poetry companion puts favourite poetry and poets from around the world at your fingertips, enabling you to revisit the classics, encounter unfamiliar masterworks and rediscover old favourites.

Suggested by Sandy Avila, Research & Information Services

 The Golden Shovel Anthology: new poems honoring Gwendolyn Brooks edited by Peter Kahn, Ravi Shankar, and Patricia Smith

The last words of each line in a Golden Shovel poem are, in order, words from a line or lines taken from a Brooks poem. The poems are, in a way, secretly encoded to enable both a horizontal reading of the new poem and vertical reading down the right-hand margin of Brooks's original. An array of writers, including Pulitzer Prize winners, T. S. Eliot Prize winners, National Book Award winners, and National Poet Laureates, have written poems for this anthology: Rita Dove, Billy Collins, Nikki Giovani, Sharon Olds, Tracy K. Smith, Mark Doty, Sharon Draper, and Julia Glass are just a few of the contributing poets.

Suggested by Megan Haught, Teaching & Engagement/Research & Information Services

 The Heart Aroused: poetry and the preservation of the soul in corporate America by David Whyte

In The Heart Aroused, David Whyte brings his unique perspective as poet and consultant to the workplace, showing readers how fulfilling work can be when they face their fears and follow their dreams. Going beneath the surface concerns about products and profits, organization and order, Whyte addresses the needs of the heart and soul, and the fears and desires that many workers keep hidden.

Suggested by Rebecca Hawk, Circulation

The Poet X by Elizabeth Acevedo

Xiomara Batista feels unheard and unable to hide in her Harlem neighborhood. Ever since her body grew into curves, Xiomara Batista has learned to let her fists and her fierceness do the talking. She pours all her frustration and passion onto the pages of a leather notebook, reciting the words to herself like prayers--especially after she catches feelings for a boy in her bio class named Aman, who her family can never know about. Mami is determined to force her daughter to obey the laws of the church, and Xiomara understands that her thoughts are best kept to herself. When she is invited to join her school's slam poetry club, she can't stop thinking about performing her poems.

Suggested by Emma Gisclair, Curriculum Materials Center

 The Poetry of Arab Women: a contemporary anthology edited by Nathalie Handal

Arab women poets work within one of the oldest literary traditions in the world, yet they are virtually unknown in the West. Uniting Arab women poets from the all over the Arab World anti abroad, Nathalie Handal has put together an outstanding collection that introduces poets who write in Arabic, French, English, and Swedish, among them some of the twentieth century's most accomplished poets and today's most exciting new voices. Translated by distinguished translators and poets from around the world, The Poetry of Arab Women showcases the work of 82 poets, among them: Etel Adnan, Andre Chedid, Salma Khadra Jayyusi, Naomi Shihab Nye, and Fadwa Tuqan.

Suggested by Christina Wray, Teaching & Engagement

 The Rain in Portugal by Billy Collins

The Rain in Portugal—a title that admits he’s not much of a rhymer—sheds Collins’s ironic light on such subjects as travel and art, cats and dogs, loneliness and love, beauty and death. A student of the everyday, Collins here contemplates a weather vane, a still life painting, the calendar, and a child lost at a beach. His imaginative fabrications have Shakespeare flying comfortably in first class and Keith Richards supporting the globe on his head. By turns entertaining, engaging, and enlightening, The Rain in Portugal amounts to another chorus of poems from one of the most respected and familiar voices in the world of American poetry.

Suggested by Larry Cooperman, Research & Information Services

[metalzombiemiss]

Elevator

Requested by @prettyepiic!

NSFW

One shot: Negan x Reader

You’re stuck in an elevator with Negan and he has no way to hide his desire for you.

Smut, smut, and more smut!

(This is my first time posting a story so please be gentle!)

“Hold the fucking door!” You hear a deep, booming voice shout from the hallway. Your delicate hand rests on the elevator doors as you see the owner of that voice. “Oh. Negan. Hi,” you stammer a little as he steps in, slightly out of breath.

“Hey, you,” he flashes you a smile, “Thanks.”

You nod quickly and press the ground floor button. Your heart begins to beat so loudly, you’re sure he can hear it. Negan was known around the office to be a bit of a playboy. He got whomever he chose, whenever he chose. Laura, your friend who works the front desk, compares him frequently to Don Draper. Just last week, you had heard that he fucked Donna in accounting in the conference room. You’re not entirely sure if that’s true but you’ve avoided touching anything in there since. You wouldn’t mind having Negan’s fluids on you but you’d like to avoid having Donna anywhere near your person.

“Any plans for the weekend?” He asks, jolting you out of your own fantasy.

“Hm?” You pause slightly, “Oh! No. No, just staying home. Watching some movies. Maybe.” He smirks, “What kind of fucking movies?” His teeth grip onto his bottom lip, one thing that made you lose your mind. “Horror movies, maybe,” you shrug. He chuckles, “I was fucking hoping for something more god damn exciting!”

Your skin turns hot when you realized what he was hoping your response would be. Before you could respond, there’s a loud bang and your body jolts, almost causing you to fall to the floor. “What the fuck?!” He exclaims. The elevator stopped on the 6th floor.

“Um….I think we’re stuck,” You whimper.

“Great,” he sighs. You slowly begin to reach out to the emergency phone that hung on the elevator panel but his long fingers wrap around your wrist gently. “Now, hang on a fucking second, darlin’,” he smiles, devilishly, “We don’t need to call for help right away.”

Your eyes meet his. His tall frame towering over you making you feel even smaller than you already are. “Well,” you begin, “We don’t wanna be here all night….” He releases your wrist and begins to back you up against the cold metal wall. A sigh escapes your lips as it kisses your skin. “No, but we don’t have to fucking rush to get out of here either.”

You swallow hard. Every nerve in your body begins to dance wildly as his hand rested gently on your face. “Negan…” you whisper but he quickly interrupts your words with a deep kiss. You unexpectedly moan into his lips. You feel your knees begin to give way but his strong hands grab you by your hips before you can fall.

He lets go, “I know what people in the fucking office fucking say about me. Not all of it is fucking true. I don’t fuck every woman around here. Most of them wish I fucking would though.” His cockiness dripping from his lips the way your arousal is dripping into your panties.

You nod, “Uh huh. So you didn’t fuck Donna in the conference room last week?” His laugh echoed in the small space. “No! Fuck no! I’ve fucked her before but I assure you, it was fucking not in the damn conference room. She’s a god damn liar!” You find yourself sighing with relief. His long fingers squeeze your hips, “Now you on the other hand. You I would gladly fuck anywhere you wanted to. You fucking play hard to get way too fucking much, it drives me fucking crazy. I’ve wanted to dip my dick into that nice little pussy for a long fucking time but you never even try.” You try to pull away but his grip is strong, which just causes the wet spot in between your legs to intensify.

“What’s that saying? Don’t dip your pen in the company ink?” You say, slyly. He raises an eyebrow, “Oh darlin, I have been dying to dip my pen in whatever ink you fucking got.” His tone lowers and he stares into your soul with the dark eyes that never fail to get you wet everyday at work.

You giggle, “Well, I’m sorry but I don’t usually fuck my coworkers.” He licks his lips, still staring deep into you. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he growls, moving closer to you, “Make an exception to the rule.” He moves your hair gently and begins to nibble at your neck. Another sigh escapes you while you instinctively run your fingers through his hair.

His hard cock rubs up against your thigh and you suddenly find your pussy is dripping through the thin cloth you’re wearing under your pencil skirt. You come to your senses and slither away. His hands continue to try and grasp you. He whimpers pathetically.

“No, Negan,” you stand your ground. He bites his lip again, “Mm, fuck, baby. This little game is getting me so fucking hard. There’s no fucking way my cock is gonna be able to stand staying in these pants.” You glance down and see the raging hard on that’s desperately trying to escape the confines of his dress slacks. Your teeth graze your bottom lip. You look up at him and find his smug face smiling at you.

He rubs himself slowly, “You fucking like that, don’t you?” He looks you up and down and strides over to you. “Come on. You’re staring at me like a fucking juicy ass steak. Aren’t you dying to have a taste?” You roll your eyes, “You’re awfully sure of yourself.” He grins, “Yep. And I’m sure as fucking fuck that if I reach my hand under this sexy fucking skirt of yours, you’re going to be dripping wet and ready for my dick.”

You find yourself gripping onto the handle of the elevator wall, wanting him to find out but also trying to fight his advances. Before you can react, his hand slides up your skirt and begins to explore. “Holy fuck!” He exclaims, “You are god damn soaking through these panties! Fuck, darlin’. You are killing me.” His fingers slide up and down your pussy gently. Your head rests on the wall and your voice cracks, “Negan. Oh fuck.”

“Mmm I wanna taste this pussy,” he growls into your ear. He kisses you again, your tongues trying to fight for dominance. He begins to trace your jaw with his tongue and works down to your neck. He clamps down with his perfect teeth forcing a soft yelp to release from inside you. His salt and pepper beard gently scratching your skin as he unbuttons your purple blouse. He slowly releases your left breast, exposing your pert nipple. He groans with satisfaction as he takes it into his mouth and runs his tongue over it. He bites softly and you pull his head up. “That all you got?” You ask. He laughs and takes it back into his mouth. He licks and sucks before clamping down bringing a hard gasp out into the air. He mimics his moves on your right breast. You moan softly and run your fingers through his dark hair as he works his way down your stomach.

He brings himself to his knees and hikes your skirt up to your hips. He gently touches your wet pussy through your panties that simply seem pointless now. “Mmmm fuck. All of this just from me?” You grab his hair with your small fingers and force his head up to look at you. “Every fucking day. Now, if you want this, you better start fucking licking me or I’m gonna try to get this elevator started so I can go home and handle this myself.” He groans with pleasure and smiles at you. “Well, then, darlin,” he says, “Let’s get rid of these so I can get fucking started.”

He slowly removes your soaked panties and tosses them aside. He forces your leg onto his broad shoulder and begins kissing your inner thigh. His beard continues to rub against your skin causing you to exhale sharply. You can feel him smile as he gets closer to your folds. His tongue gently runs from your entrance to your clit and you shake with surprise. “Fuck,” you groan quietly. He blows hot air onto your clit and begins to circle his long middle finger around your entrance. “Don’t fucking tease. Just eat me, you prick,” you snap. “So fucking demanding. Sweetheart, I’m the fucking dominant one here. You need to watch your fucking mouth.”

He licks circles around your swollen clit. “Fuck you,” you whisper, your fingers still grasping onto his hair. His rhythm stays steady and you can already feel your orgasm building. His slender finger finds its way inside of you and makes itself cozy in your g-spot. You inhale deeply and force his face into you signaling him to go faster. You can feel him smiling as his tongue slides faster on your clit. “Faster, Negan. Fuck,” you sigh. A second finger finds its way inside of you and he begins to pump them in and out of you with conviction.

His tongue continuing its exploration of you, he can feel you getting closer to ecstasy. Your legs begin to lose their strength as you allow yourself to explode. Your cum drips down his hand as you moan loudly with pleasure. “Mmmm….fucking tasty,” he says, licking his lips and wiping his beard clean. Before he can clean his fingers, you grab his hand and suck your cum off of them. His dark eyes staring deep into your soul again, he moans, “Fuck, alright then, you little freak. You fucking like that cum?” You smile and nod as you rub his hard cock.

His head rolls back as a groan escapes him. “Want some help with this?” You grin as you continue to rub him through his tight slacks. He looks down at you, his eyes suddenly exuding so much lust that you lose focus. “Yeah, I fucking do. Let me fuck your mouth then I’ll take care of that little cunt of yours.” He grabs your hair and pushes you down to your knees. You help release his cock from its cage and begin stroking slowly. The noises he begins to make send your mind into a frenzy and you can feel yourself dripping again. With your skirt still up on your hips, you begin to explore yourself while you bring his member into your mouth.

He looks down at you and sees your hand travel down. “The fuck do you think you’re doing? Don’t you fucking dare touch yourself while you blow me. Only I can get you off, do you understand me?” His voice made your core shake and you quickly removed your hand from your pussy. You moan in agreement and continue to bob your head on his cock, your tongue running along the thick vein underneath. You reach up and slowly massage his balls as you continue to suck his massive cock. His excited gasps make your stomach flutter. He grabs a fistful of your hair and helps you move your head along trying to see how much your throat can take. He suddenly stops you and forces your face to look at him. “Get the fuck up and turn around. Let me see that fine fucking ass of yours.” You oblige to his command and bring yourself to your feet. You spin around and bend over slightly, presenting your cheeks to him. He rubs one, then the other gently. Suddenly, you feel a hard smack on your right cheek. You yelp with pleasure. “Fuck me,” you beg. He chuckles, “You ready to be my little whore?” You rest your face on the wall and nod, “Yes, daddy. Make me your dirty, fucking whore.” “Fuck. Keep calling me that, dirty girl,” he growls deeply.

He forces your leg up on the handle on the wall and teases your hole with the tip of his raging hard cock. You move your hips back in an attempt to instruct him on what to do with his member but he quickly retreats. “Uh uh, sweetheart. Don’t you fucking dare pull this shit. I’m in control. I will slam into you when I fucking well please.” He grabs your hair and pulls hard. You yelp loudly, “Daddy! Please!” He leans down and bites your shoulder as he shoves every inch into your aching core. You adjust to his massive size as he slides in and out of you slowly, his cock fitting so perfectly into the right spot. In a matter of minutes, you feel your second orgasm building.

“Oh fuck, darlin. Your fucking pussy is a perfect fit for my cock,” he moans into your ear. “You like this tight little hole, Daddy?” You sigh. “I fucking love this tight little hole. You’re such a good girl. Cum for me, baby. Come the fuck on. Squirt on this dick.” You bite down on your bottom lip and let go of all inhibition. You shake as your orgasm builds to its peak. Your pussy tightens around him and the flood gates open. Your love drips down to the floor. He groans in your ear and grab you by the throat. “Good girl,” he says softly. He slides out of you and spins you around to face him. His lips meet yours with force and you once again fight for dominance. He grabs your ass and lifts you up against the wall. You wrap your legs around his waist as he enters you again. This time, he doesn’t build up. He slams his cock into you over and over again with incredible force causing you to cry out in pleasurable pain.

“Oh fuck! Negan! Right there!!!” You shout as your nails dig into his shoulders. You hold him close as he continues his dominant reign on your hole. He kisses you hard while digging his fingers into your hips. Without warning, you cum a third time, dripping more of your juices down your thighs. You moan into each other as you feel his cock begin to twitch. You know he’s getting close.

You pull away, “Let me taste you.” He smiles and brings you down to your feet. You fall to your knees and present your mouth with gleeful anticipation. “Give me that cum, daddy,” you beg. “Here it fucking comes, you little fucking slut,” he growls while he strokes his member to completion. His groans grow loud as he gets closer and suddenly, you feel his hot love land in your mouth and slide down your throat. You take his cock into your mouth and suck every last drop he has to offer you out of him. You moan happily and wipe your mouth.

“So good…” you smile up at him. “Did you take all of it?” He grabs your face gently, forcing you to open your mouth and show him that every last drop was gone. “Mmm fuck. What a good fucking girl you are. I wanna fuck you again soon,” he says, pulling up his slacks. You pull your skirt down and button up your blouse. “I thought you were a hit it and quit it kind of guy?” He tucks his shirt in and looks at you, “Pussy that good can’t be fucked just once, darlin. I’m gonna need so much fucking more of you all over me.”

The elevator suddenly jolts awake and makes the rest of the trip down to the ground floor. You pick your panties up before the door can open and look at him. “Well then, I think we need to have a meeting Monday morning in conference room B. 10 am sharp,” You smile. He grins, “I think that’s a damn fucking good idea.”

The doors open. Before you step out, you slide your soaked panties into his pocket, “Here. I don’t think I’ll be needing these anymore.” He smirks, placing his hand over the pocket. “I’ll see you Monday, then?” You nod, “Monday. 10 am. Sharp. We have a lot to go over so we need to go at it hard….” You walk out of the elevator and glance back. Negan is leaning up against the elevator’s entryway, smiling at you. You turn around and make the walk to your car. The cold air on your now bare and sore pussy feels amazing. You smile with pride as you buckle into your car. That mother fucker has no idea what he’s in for, you think as you turn the ignition and drive away.

[captainhotch]

Costume Party | Archie Andrews

Archie Andrews x Reader

Summary; You finally convince Cheryl to put her creepy house to good use and throw a Halloween costume party & enlist her help in finding a couples costume for you and Archie.

masterlist

It was finally October, aka your absolute favorite month of the year, and you were beyond excited. The weather in Riverdale had finally begun cooling down, football was back and season, and Halloween (your absolute favorite day of the year) was right around the corner.

Cheryl sat on your bed, her legs dangling off the side as she applied one of your red lipsticks. You were best friends, and part of being best friends with the Blossom girl was helping her plan her legendary parties. You had finally convinced the girl to embrace her incredibly spooky home and throw a Halloween costume party.

Your main argument was that it would be so easy, because the house was naturally so dim and dark, minimal decorating would be necessary.

You were sat beside the red head, flipping through Pinterest for couple costume ideas. Archie had agreed to let you choose your costume for the party.

"I think you should just go as a football player and a cheerleader. Make it easy." Cheryl shrugged, flipping through the copy of Vogue you had on your nightstand.

You scoffed in disbelief at the girl, "That is the most boring and basic idea I have ever heard. The point of Halloween is to become someone else, not go as yourself."

You and Cheryl were polar opposites, which was much of what made you two such good friends. You called her out when she was being a bitch and she brought you out if your comfort zone. You were definitely not a party girl before you met Cheryl. She was actually the one who convinced you to give Archie a chance in the first place.

"Well I'm going dressed as Jessica Rabbit. Red hair? Check. Red dress? Check. Killer body? Check. Easy." Cheryl said, popping her lips.

"Well you moonlight as her in your free time so I don't think anybody will be surprised." You shrugged, pinning yet another adorable DIY costume to your Halloween board. "What do you think of Bob and Linda Belcher?"

Cheryl chuckled, not even looking up from the pages of her magazine, "That is the least sexy thing I've ever heard. You have to embrace Archie’s new found killer bod." Cheryl hummed quietly, thinking to herself, "You could be Meg and Hercules. He's certainly got the body for it. And the hair."

"Holy shit! That's an amazing idea! I knew we were friends for a reason." You cheered, grabbing your phone so you could send a quick text to Archie. You already had the perfect purple and gold dress in mind, Archie just needed to figure his costume out.

Cheryl only smirked at you as you bounded into your closet, throwing the purple dress on your bed followed by various gold accessories and a pair of gladiator sandals. "Tell me it's not perfect."

"You'll have the poor boy kneeling at your feet." She grinned, eyeing the admittedly high slit cut into the satiny dress.

The party was a week later, you refusing to show Archie your half of the costume, wanting to surprise the boy when he came to pick you up.

You and Cheryl had spent the night before placing fake cob webs and spiders around her house, along with a few other hidden decorations to scare the guests. All of the snacks where Halloween themed, from the Vampire's Blood fruit punch, to the Zombie Brain cupcakes. You had put more effort into the party then you had your APUSH essay that you did the day before.

Your doorbell rang as you were sliding on your gladiator sandals, which looked perfect with your purple, goddess like dress and gold jewelry to match. You hair was tied up in a voluminous pony tail to match Megara from the movie Hercules.

You opened the door with a grin, eyeing your boyfriend up and down. Archie was shirtless - something you don't remember Hercules being in the movies. He wore a red band around his head and Hercules skirt like bottoms. You would definitely be the hottest couple at the party, something Cheryl would be proud of you for, for sure.

"Well don't you look handsome." You smiled, grabbing your purse from behind you and closing the door. Archie grabbed your hand, snapping out of his trance like state at the sight of you in your dress.

"Not nearly as good as you, I'm sure." He laughed, a light blush blooming on his cheeks, though it was near impossible to see in the darkness of the night. His hand gripped yours tightly, walking you to his dad's car that he borrowed for the night, and opening your door.

Ten minutes later you had arrived to the creepy Blossom mansion.. your decorations doing nothing but adding to the ambiance. The loud music from the house echoed around the surrounding woods, making the property a bit less intimidating.

Teenagers littered the yard, grinding and dancing, most of whom were probably already wasted - even though the party had only just begun.

Archie once again grabbed your hand, pulling you tightly into his side to shield you from the hungry eyes of the boys and girls. Though you were almost positive much of the attention was because of his shirtless figure.

Cheryl greeted you at the door, and true to her word, she was dressed as Jessica rabbit. She handed the both of you a beer. "You guys look great! All thanks to me, of course." She greeted, raising her voice above the music.

"You look beautiful!" You cheered, grabbing the beers from her hand. Archie pressed a kiss to your exposed shoulder as a thank you for handing him the drink.

Your attention shifted from Cheryl to Betty, who was ironically dressed as Betty Draper from season one, and Jughead who was wearing his usual tee shirt and beanie. Veronica was dressed as Holly Golightly from Breakfast at Tiffany's, an idea that you had given her a few days before.

Archie dragged you by your hand over to the group and you said your hellos, gushing with Betty and Veronica over how amazing they looked, all while eyeing your very attractive boyfriend as he chatted with Jughead.

You excused your self from your friends and walked over to Archie and Jughead, wrapping your arms around your boyfriend's back, placing a soft kiss on his shoulder. Archie turned around to plant a kiss on your lips, Jughead rolling his eyes at your display of affection.

"And what are you supposed to be Jughead? Brooding teen number 4? What, Betty couldn't convince you to dress as Don Draper?" You sassily questioned the teen with a raised brow.

"Halloween isn't really my thing." He admitted with a shrug.

"I would've assumed the opposite." You grinned, gesturing at his dark get-up, pulling Archie away from Jughead and onto the dance floor.

Archie wrapped his hands around your waist, yours going around his neck as you swayed to the music. "You did a really good job on the party." He grinned down at you, your eyes shining excitedly. Archie found it to be adorable how happy you always were on Halloween.

"Why thank you. I'm just glad Cheryl let me convince her to throw a costume party this year. I think she has a new found respect." You added, glancing in the smiling girl's direction.

"I agree." Archie grinned, kissing your lips softly. "Maybe next year I can pick out the costume?"

"Hmm.. we'll see."

[biofunmy]

As Men Are Canceled, So Too Their Magazine Subscriptions

Imagine if Kodak had answered the threat of digital photography by pivoting from film to outdoor grills.

Imagine if Blockbuster had taken on the challenge from Netflix by shifting from DVDs to fast food.

Imagine if men’s magazines stared down the post-#MeToo manpocalypse by disowning men.

Maybe the last one isn’t so hypothetical?

At a time when calls are growing for the Oscars, Tonys and Emmys to follow the Grammys and the MTV Video Music Awards in erasing gendered categories, and to do away with gender-specific magazines, bro bibles like GQ, Esquire and Playboy seem poised to do a backpedal of Michael Jackson moonwalk proportions from the formula that kept them perched at the publishing pinnacle for a half-century.

Namely, being a print version of your father, offering up bourbon-breathed tutorials on the arts of tie knotting, fly casting, and skirt chasing.

In the gender tornado of 2019, men’s magazines, it seems, are canceling themselves. (The internet’s assault on glossy print isn’t helping either.)

“How do you make a so-called men’s magazine in the thick of what has justifiably become the Shut Up and Listen moment?” wrote Will Welch, the editor of GQ, in a cri de coeur introduction to this month’s “New Masculinity” issue. “One way we’ve addressed it,” he continued, “is by making a magazine that isn’t really trying to be exclusively for or about men at all.

So gender fluid it’s soggy, the 128-page issue might well have been themed “No Masculinity,” with its androgynous cover image of Pharrell Williams looking like an inverted tulip in a floor-length yellow Moncler Pierpaolo Piccioli coat, followed by ruminations on the “weaponized” male body by Thomas Page McBee, a transgender writer and boxer; a defense of makeup for men by EJ Johnson, Magic Johnson’s son whose fashion tastes run toward fur shawls and diamond chokers; and a debunking of the power of testosterone itself by Katrina Karkazis, a cultural anthropologist and author.

Such untraditional content is a survival strategy for glossies with a Y chromosome tilt in this homo novus era, where every reference to masculinity wears an implied “toxic” like a hair shirt.

Even Playboy, mired in identity crisis since dial-up modems, is suddenly woke.

The magazine has rechristened its Bunnies as “brand ambassadors,” and even embarked on a short-lived experiment to cut out the nudes. After the death of its founder Hugh Hefner in 2017, Playboy has morphed into an art-book quarterly that ditched its old tee-hee-hee motto, “Entertainment for Men,” for a gender-blinkered “Entertainment for All.”

It’s an open question whether the men who now turn to Pornhub and its ilk for the kind of “entertainment” that Playboy built an empire on even noticed.

Even so, the magazine, which long held up Hef, with his phallic-symbol pipe and star-studded skin romps at the Playboy Mansion, as the epitome of American straight male aspiration, is turning the brand’s hyper-male, hyper-hetero legacy on its head.

The magazine’s new leadership team consists of a gay man (the executive editor Shane Singh) and two women (the creative director Erica Loewy and Anna Wilson, who is in charge of photography and multimedia), all millennials.

Recent feature articles include profiles of Andrea Drummer, a female African-American chef who runs a cannabis-centric restaurant in Los Angeles, and King Princess, a genderqueer pop singer who is as a symbol of self-acceptance to young L.G.B.T.Q. fans.

For a cover image this summer, the team commissioned the fine-art photographer Ed Freeman (a rare man who still shoots for Playboy, though he is gay) for an arty underwater shot featuring three featuring female activists for causes like ocean conservation and H.I.V. awareness.

“The water,” Mr. Singh explained to Jessica Bennett of The New York Times for an article in August, “is meant to represent gender and sexual fluidity.”

Change is also afoot at Esquire, the tweediest of the men’s titles, which for decades carried a whiff of dad’s old cedar chest full of pocketknives and Mickey Mantle baseball cards.

This past June, the magazine installed its second editor, Michael Sebastian, in three years. Mr. Sebastian, 39, made his name as Esquire’s digital director, where he oversaw a significant rise in traffic to the site, according to Hearst.

His appointment as editor prompted industry speculation that he was going to go “full Cosmo,” chasing Instagram-friendly content and trending topics on Twitter just like Cosmopolitan, Esquire’s sister publication at Hearst that has lately been pursuing data as hotly as it long proselytized multiple orgasms.

The move seemed symbolic. Mr. Sebastian replaced Jay Fielden, a dapper Texan given to Hemingway and Cifonelli suits, who had departed weeks before, citing the lure of new (and unspecified) possibilities. Mr. Fielden had vowed to revive the “literary charisma” of the magazine of Fitzgerald and Dos Passos. He may have fit the image of the “Esquire man” too well for the times.

In one of his first interviews after he got the job, Mr. Sebastian took a swipe at the publishing patriarchy, telling The Wall Street Journal that he wanted to get away from the idea “that both the Esquire reader and writer is a middle-age white guy who likes brown liquor and brown leather.”

In fairness to Mr. Fielden, he said pretty much the same thing years ago, before Harvey Weinstein and his ilk sent half the population to the penalty box. “There’s no cigar smoke wafting through the pages,” he said to The New York Times in 2017, “and the obligatory three B’s are gone, too — brown liquor, boxing and bullfighting.”

As the same article reported, Mr. Fielden had won the job in part because he courted more male readers to the traditionally feminine Town & Country, the Hearst title he headed before Esquire.

At Esquire, he vowed to lure more female readers and ditched boys’ club staples like the print version of the “Women We Love” issue.

Apparently, it was not enough. Could anything be? Perhaps not, as manhood itself is being interrogated, scrutinized and radically revised.

The very idea of a men’s magazine now sounds “as hopelessly passé as a private gentlemen’s club,” according to a recent article, “The End of Men’s Magazines,” in City Journal, which is not exactly a progressive organ (the magazine is published by the Manhattan Institute, a free-market think tank).

Maybe. Or maybe not.

Details is done. Maxim has evolved its identity from a frat-house must-read to a cosmopolitan lifestyle magazine, an about-face that began under a female editor and fashion veteran, Kate Lanphear, who departed in 2015.

But Esquire has already survived the Great Depression, World War II, disco, yuppies and the dot-com bust. It’s still here.

And plenty of readers are still here, too, even in a brutal publishing climate that has forced august women’s titles like Glamour, Seventeen, Self, and Redbook to retreat from print for the web.

Despite a plunge in newsstand sales that has plagued the whole industry, Esquire still had an estimated total average circulation of 709,000 for the first six months of this year, according to the Alliance for Audited Media; the figure accounts for both print and digital subscriptions as well as single-copy sales.

GQ, too, is a long, long way from life support, with a figure of 934,000 for the same period, according to the alliance.

Times change, sometimes violently. But recent history is full of apparent anachronisms (gas guzzlers, Birkenstocks, Donald Trump) that managed an unlikely second act. And men’s magazines have proven pretty adept at sniffing out the shifts in culture, both trivial and seismic, over the decades — which is one reason they have been around for decades.

Esquire may have swaggered into the 1960s as the Don Draper of magazines, but as the old order began to crumble thanks to Betty Friedan, the Black Panthers and many others, the magazine’s editor, Harold Hayes, quickly detoured into a flower-power-era version of woke.

He commissioned Susan Sontag’s dispatch from Hanoi at the height of the Vietnam War, and James Baldwin’s ruminations on race in America after the assassination of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

Even Playboy opened its pages to thought-provoking interviews with Eldridge Cleaver, Malcolm X and Fidel Castro while sprinkling in at least a few pictorials featuring Playmates of color.

Yes, that was a different time. We’ve come a long way from Gloria Steinem decrying “The Moral Disarmament of Betty Coed” thanks to the Pill in Esquire in 1962, to Hannah Gadsby, a lesbian comedian, taking aim at “hypermasculine man-babies” in GQ’s “New Masculinity” issue.

Haven’t we?

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