#basic bitching

Fall is here, and because I am the most basic of bitches I am celebrating with some autumn related silliness with our faves. It’s basically just a bunch of outdoor sex, but with a fall motif!

Happy fall, y’all!!

Day 1: Raking Leaves

Day 2: Picking Apples

Day 3: Going on a Hayride

Day 4: Visiting a Corn Maze

Day 5: Having a Bonfire

Day 6: Visiting a Pumpkin Patch

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x fem!Reader (OTP)

Words: ~1.5k

Summary: You and Ransom get away for the weekend.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (wake up sex, unprotected vaginal sex, squirting, multiple orgasms, cream pie), pretty much no plot, these two still being massively soft, Ransom still being a little whiny but not as much, SMUT!!! 18+ ONLY!!!

A/N: Closing out my fun little series with some isolation sex with these two! Even when I’m just writing straight porn for them, they’re still so cute and it’s killing me 😭

Ransom groaned when the sun hit his eyes, pulling you closer against his chest so he could hide his face in your hair and avoid waking up. The way his chest rumbled against your back roused you, his arms curled tight around your torso as he murmured at you to go back to sleep.

“Ran, we have to get up.” Your voice was raspy from sleep as you wound your fingers through his, pulling his hand up to your face and pressing your lips against his wrist as he grumbled into your neck.

“No we don’t.” He gripped your chin and turned your face so he could flick his tongue against the corner of your mouth. “Let’s just stay in bed all day, baby.”

New Post has been published on http://wittybitches.com/2016/07/melanie-trump-speech/

Ex-Trump campaign manager calls for 'accountability' on Melania Trump speech

CLEVELAND — Donald Trump’s former campaign manager said staff responsible for crafting Melania Trump’s speech on the first night of the Republican National Convention should be held accountable after portions mirrored remarks Michelle Obama delivered in 2008. Corey Lewandowski, who was fired in June following months of controversy including allegations that he grabbed a reporter as…

New Post has been published on http://wittybitches.com/2016/07/retail-hell-not-my-department-not-my-store/

Retail Hell: Not My Department, Not My Store

I am Luna Moonstone, and I am a wolf (demi)goddess. Those who look upon me see a woman who is beautiful, radiant, and powerful. My wisdom is infinite and my words are gospel. Those who know me know that they are truly blessed merely to be in my presence. I am divinity and perfection personified…

…All of this is contingent on me having had my coffee, however.

Catch me before my first cup of the day, and you’ll see a much different being than the one I just described. My hair’s plastered to my head, my fur’s all matted and full of knots, and I shuffle around like a zombie. Forget divine wisdom and gospel; I’m lucky if I can form anything close to a coherent sentence. Needless to say, I’m pretty careful about always keeping a steady supply of coffee on hand.

It was because of a sale on that black/brown ambrosia that I found myself at the grocery store one day during a break from my regular job as a pharmacy technician. While some grocery stores do have pharmacies, this one does not. I had to leave my own store and walk past three other businesses in order to get into this store. The employees of that grocery store wore polo shirts, jeans and sneakers, and there were plenty of them scattered throughout the store. Wearing a lab coat, khaki’s and dress shoes, there was no way anybody was going to mistake me as an employee of that grocery store.

And yet, apparently someone HAD done exactly that. The roughly 50 year old woman was clearly upset that I had been ignoring her requests for help; by the time I realized she’d been addressing me with her requests for help, she was practically screaming at me.

“Um, yes?” My tone was polite, but confused as I looked this person over, confirming that she was indeed not someone I knew. “Can I help you?”

“FINALLY!” She sounded exasperated as she practically thrust the flier into my face. “Where are these? I can’t find them anywhere!”

O.K., several problems this situation. First, I don’t work here. Secondly, there’s over two dozen items on the page, so “these” isn’t a very helpful description. Third, don’t shove things into people’s faces.

(Quick side note here; while there are many benefits to being a demigoddess, it does come with its downsides. I’m much bigger and taller than the human everyone perceives me to be, enough so that my human eyes are roughly chest level with my demigoddess self. This has the side effect of making me feel like everyone, and I do mean EVERYONE, is staring at my breasts 24/7. It also means that this woman was unknowingly trying to shove her flier in my cleavage.)

Still, I took it all in stride (while also taking a small stride back away from her). It’s not her fault she doesn’t see the demigoddess that I am. She sees the mid 20’s human male who ignored her, even if it was accidental and justifiable. There’s no reason to get annoyed or angry with her. I just have to gently inform her of her mistake.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I don’t work here.” Perfect; nice and gentle, not condescending or sarcastic. Now to just wait for her apology so I can go back to getting my coffee.

In hindsight, I should have realized I was a fool to think things would end there. She already had mistaken me as an employee of this company, despite the near impossibility that she wouldn’t have passed at least a few real employees before finding me.

“Of course you don’t work here! No one works here!”

O.K., the pissed off look and “I can’t believe you just said that to me!” tone was unexpected. Did she think I was lying to her?

“Ma’am, you don’t seem to understand. I really don’t work here.” My clawed finger tapped lightly against my name badge from my actual job for emphasis.

Her perfectly rational, well thought out response? To turn around so sharply I was barely able to dodge her stupidly huge pocketbook as it swung wildly around her arm, and threaten to report me to management for my, “Poor customer service attitude.”

At a company I didn’t work for.

Once I realized what was happening, gone was the kind, understanding demigoddess. Reporting an employee to management is just a shitty thing to do unless they truly deserve it. Too many managers will happily throw an employee under the bus or give free stuff to an angry customer just to keep the complaint from going up the corporate chain, and I’ve seen more than a few customers threaten to cause trouble just because they know they’ll score free stuff. Good managers will try to mediate or stand up for their employee, but they are few and far between.

Plus, you know, I DIDN’T WORK HERE!

  Silver lighting bolts crackled about my clenched fist as I pondered how exactly this moron would suffer for her stupidity and anger. Should I fry her body and soul with my divine wraith? Have the very ground open up and let her fall into the depths of Hell? Or perhaps I need not dip into my goddess powers at all; I had several nearby cans that would make good projectiles to bean her in the back of the head with. There were so many violent, tempting ways to enact my vengeance…

  … Or I could do nothing. I could simply allow her to wander off and look for that manager. She’ll probably look for someone dressed just like me to complain to about her experience, wandering all over the store. And like Sisyphus trying to roll a boulder up a hill, this idiot with a shopping cart will have an equally impossible task. By the time she realizes her mistake or somehow finds a manager, I’ll be long gone. At best, she’ll realize what an incredible moron she is and feel rightly stupid for what she did. At worst, she’ll look like an incredible moron trying to describe to a manager an employee who doesn’t look anything like any of his employees.

Yeah, that sounds just fine. I released my divine wraith harmlessly and quickly found my last can of coffee, making my way toward the registers. I stepped into line behind the only other customer on the 6 items or less line with my four cans of coffee. I should be out nice and quick, or I would be, if the moron in front of me didn’t have at least ten items.

Sigh; my work is NEVER done…

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