you seem to the be the center of attention at your friend isabel's party and while hazel can see why, she's never quite in the mood to share.
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pairing(s): hazel callahan/reader
word count: 3.7k
warnings: smut (18+ ONLY, MDNI), dom!hazel, strap use (r! receiving), possessive behavior, degradation and praise, hyperfem reader, fingering, drinking, semi public sex (bathroom), exhibitionism, gendered nicknames (good girl, pretty girl), light hair pulling
a/n: the picture has nothing to do with the reader’s appearance (just the dress)!! i’m so sorry this took so long y’all i hope it worth it. thank you for the request! tbh this was kind of hard to write bc this situation is giving mean dom and even in fics i’ve written where hazel reader hated each other she was never too mean so i had to find it lmao. title from agora hills by doja cat.
masterlist!
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Parties were not Hazel's scene. But, when Isabel invited you and Hazel to a house party she would be throwing, she had told you you could finally wear "that dress” that you had been wanting to wear. And Hazel had to admit, she was rather curious as to which dress she was talking about.
The two of you were getting ready at her house, and though she had told you that you were fine to get changed in front of her (mostly for her own selfish reasons), you had insisted on your outfit being a surprise. As it turned out, "that dress" that Isabel had brought up was a light pink mini slip dress with white lace detailing on the lowcut neckline and bottom hem. To say Hazel's brain short circuited the moment she saw you would be an understatement.
Also, needless to say, she wanted to rip it off you. She was on her feet the moment you stepped out of the bathroom, twirling to display the dress. She caught you while your back was to her, snagging your hips in a strong grip and dragging you back until your back met her chest.
“You look gorgeous, baby,” she muttered as she began littering kisses on your neck. She rocked her hips against yours, and you could feel the fact that she had her strap on under her jeans, as the hard silicone pressed into your skin. You had a snarky comment about it on the tip of your tongue, but then she started sucking on the base of your neck, and your breath faltered.
You leaned back into her, your fingers weaving into her hair; not pulling, just holding. Her name fell breathily from your lips before you even noticed it. You were only snapped out of your reverie when she murmured onto the sensitive skin where she was just working at placing a hickey that did not come to fruition, “Maybe we just stay in tonight,” as she tugged the dress up over your hips, exposing your underwear of white lace which she grabbed at greedily.
“No, no, no,” you responded giddily, stepping out of her embrace and tugging the bottom hem of your dress back down where it belonged. “We are going out tonight. And we can continue that later.” With that, you turned on your heel and strutted down the stairs.
“How much later, do you think?” Hazel asked as she hurried down the stairs to get ahead of you. “Like an hour, or?”
You scoffed as she opened her large front door for you to walk through. “When we leave the party,” you responded. Hazel’s mouth opened to respond, but you held up a silencing hand. “We have to be there for at least three hours.”
“Three?”
Your laughter was stifled behind your hand as the two of you made your way to her car. Begrudging as Hazel was to out that day, she still held your door open for you, dragging her feet to get to the driver's side of the car once you gratefully stepped in.
"Three hours is criminal," she vocalized as she finally got in the car.
"The more you complain, the longer it takes for us to get there, and the longer it takes for us to get back home," you retorted. Hazel scoffed and started the car, her right hand automatically crossing the center console to rest on your thigh. This was by no means unusual, so you didn't think much of it. Halfway through the drive to Isabel's however, you realized her hand was significantly higher than where it started, now gently squeezing at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.
“Hazel,” you warned.
“What? I’m not doing anything,” she responded confidently, smirking as she pushed your underwear to one side and began rubbing circles on your clit. "Always so wet for me, baby," she muttered, collecting the essence of your arousal to aid in the smooth movement of her fingers against the sensitive bud of nerves.
The next time her name came out of your mouth it was with a completely different inflection. You rolled your hips against her fingers in an attempt to remain contact as one of your hands gripped the headrest behind you and the other clung to her wrist.
“You know, these windows aren’t tinted,” Hazel offered haphazardly, gliding her hand to push two fingers inside you and began moving them at a rapid pace. You knew that, and if you were anywhere near your right mind you would have embarrassed yourself to death, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to care. “Anyone could see you right now, being my perfect little slut.”
It was almost as if you didn't hear her as you threw your head back onto the headrest, eyes squeezed shut while your hips dropped onto her fingers. "Haze," you whimpered, your hips moving faster as you felt the familiar building of pressure in your abdomen. You weren't sure when Hazel had turned the music off, but the only sounds in the car now were your uninhibited moans, and the wet, squelching sound of her fingers plunging in and out of you. "Please."
Had your eyes not been shut so tight, you would have seen the smirk on her face as she withdrew her hand. Your eyes snapped open in shock, just in time to see her, grin still donning her features as she sucked your arousal off her fingers. "We're here," she announced.
You looked at her in distress, frozen in your seat as Hazel jumped out of the car and walked around to open the door for you. "Come on, we have to be there for at least three hours."
"But, Hazel-"
"The more you complain, the longer it's gonna take to get home," she parroted. She looked all too pleased with herself as you gave her a dirty look and practically fell out of the car, feet dragging.
“I hate you,” you muttered.
Hazel wrapped her arm around your waist, grinning like mad. "I know," she responded with faux sympathy, placing a kiss on your cheek. "It's only three hours."
Isabel greeted the two of you with a large (slightly intoxicated) smile the moment you walked in, flinging her arms around the pair of you as she yelled over the loud music and buzz of conversations, “I’m so glad you guys could make it!” She then grew very serious. "I love you guys," she informed.
Hazel flinched at the loud sound in her ear, but you giggled and clung tightly to Isabel, perhaps just to annoy Hazel a bit. Isabel squealed and kissed your cheek before running off you didn’t know where, probably to Josie.
"Oh, she's fucked up," you chuckled as she scurried away. Hazel didn't respond for a second, preferring to stare at you, eyes boring holes into you as he glare became more intense.
"How the hell are you fine?" she questioned. Her arousal was still evident, the fact that she couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from either the neckline or the bottom hem of her dress making it quite obvious. Hazel wasn't daft. She was aware that you weren't fine, but you clearly weren't as debilitated as she was. You had small tells, like the fact that you wouldn't stop toying with the hem of your dress; but, in general, you could pass as someone in no rush to get fucked by their girlfriend.
You smirked and fiddled with the ends of your hair. "Why?" you goaded, stepping to her until you were chest to chest. Her hands grabbed at your hips, kneading the flesh in her strong hands. "Is there something you wanna get finished?"
Hazel's grip tightened on your hips, her eyes zoned in on your glossed lips, and you could tell she was seconds away from saying 'to hell with it' and dragging you into the next empty room to have her way with you, when PJ showed up and shoved a shot glass into your hand.
"Drink, loser!" she yelled. You could've killed her at that moment, but you quickly threw the shot back, wincing at the feeling of the liquor burning down your throat, and shoved the glass back to her, hoping that she hadn't ruined Hazel's mood. Unfortunately for you, PJ had given Hazel just enough time to snap out of it, and she had since withdrawn her hands from your hips and crossed them over her chest, offering you a smug grin. You glared at PJ, who paid no mind to your anger and said, "You look hot, by the way," before scampering off to offer someone else alcohol.
Hazel’s eyes snapped to PJ, narrowed in annoyance, as if daring her to hit on you again. PJ, again, didn’t notice, but you surely did. You winked at Hazel before slinking off behind PJ, who was handing out shots to a group of girls you didn’t recognize.
“Oh, hey!” she yelled drunkenly when she saw you her side. She threw a sweaty arm around your shoulder, bearing most of her weight onto you. “Guys, this is my friend,” she said to the group. Her words were slurring and she seemed generally a bit nicer than she was when she was sober. “Doesn’t she look super hot today?”
There was mass agreement from the group of girls, one of which took your hand and kissed the back of it.
You had opened your mouth to tell them that you have a girlfriend, you really had, but then you turned your head to actually see your girlfriend. Hazel was shifting her weight from one foot to the other, clenching and unclenching her fist as if trying to convince herself not to beat these girls up. Hazel didn’t typically use her fight club skills outside of the club (by typically, you mean not at all), but it seemed she was considering it now. God, you loved it when she got like that.
You turn back to the girl still holding your hand. “Hey, so, I actually have a girlfriend,” you informed her in as much a hushed tone as you could manage over the blaring music.
The poor girls eyes widened in shock as she dropped your hand. “Shit, sorry,” she responded.
“It’s okay!” You reassured. You gesture subtly at Hazel, who was clearly trying to keep a lid on her anger. “That's her over there. I’m actually trying to make her jealous, so if you wanna dance…”
The stranger glanced over at Hazel, and when her gaze returned to you she seemed to be questioning your sanity. "You're aware she looks murderous right now, right?"
"Oh, she's harmless," you said dismissively, waving your hand in the air as if swatting the idea away. "Come on, help me out. I'll set you up with someone! Anyone you have your eye on. I have a lot of influence on people."
Her eyes flickered over to PJ. "Really?" you asked disbelievingly. She opened her mouth to defend her decision, but you interjected. "Whatever, done. I should let you know, though, -and keep in mind that she's my friend when I say this- she's easier to be around in small doses."
"Noted," she responded with a laugh, holding her hand out for you to take. "Shall we?"
You placed your hand in hers and in an instant she spun you around, your back pressed against her. Your eyes shined with mirth when they met with Hazel's, which bore jealously back into your own as both your hips moved to the music. Your arm looped back and pulled the girl closer to you. Hazel shifted her weight again. You were winning.
"It's working," you informed the girl. You turned your head and pulled hers down, closer to yours. Her hands had moved to your hips, the movement causing your already very short dress to ride up. "You got a name you want me to give PJ or does party girl work for you?"
"Lyla," she responded. Just in time, too, for Hazel had given in. She had crossed the room and was now standing directly in front of you.
"Let's go," she said. You smiled at Lyla and mouthed a thank you at her as Hazel dragged you away from her. Luckily for you, the two of you passed PJ on the way to wherever she was taking you.
"Hey! The girl I was dancing with is into you. Her name is Lyla. Do not scare her awa-" is what you managed to rush out before Hazel had taken you too far away from her for her to hear you. She pulled you through the throngs of people until you were in a bathroom, where she finally let go of your hand and locked the door behind you.
She stood with her back towards you, hands still on the door knob, her shoulders rising and falling with angry breaths. You crossed the room, running your hands soothingly over her shoulders. She shrugged them off, scoffing at your sudden change in behavior.
“So now you wanna be nice to me?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow as she turned to lean against the door.
“I am nice to you,” you rebutted, huffing as you crossed your arms over your chest. You stood as close to her as you could get without her changing positions in the room. You yelped at the sudden pull of her hands around your waist. Her lips on yours were harsh, meeting roughly in a way you'd never felt from her before. Her hands traveled from your waist to your hips, kneading the skin there with her ring-clad hands. This time, when she pulled the silk fabric of your dress up over your hips, you made no protest, only exhaled shakily, anticipating her next move. You still hissed when the cold metal of her rings met your heated skin, grinning to yourself as Hazel began placing kisses down your neck.
"See?" you whimpered out, clutching to her short hair as she hungrily kissed a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, "I'm nice." You whined pitifully as she pulled away, grinning proudly at the mess she made of you.
“No, you're not. But you were really nice to that girl you were dancing with." You barely heard her whisper over the loud music blasting through the door, or the conversations being yelled over it. Her cold hand ran smoothly from your hips to where you most craved her. She chuckled at the feeling of the wet spot in your underwear, teasingly ghosting her fingers over it as your breath hitched. "Maybe you should go ask for her help with this," she recommended, pushing you lightly off of her.
"No!" you begged, clutching her arm to keep her close to you. "No, please."
"Why not?" she goaded, smirking at the desperate way you clung to her. "Didn't she make you this wet?"
"No!" you insisted pitifully.
"Who did?" she baited. She smiled haughtily when you all but threw yourself onto her, burying you face into her neck.
"You did," you responded, tugging on the loose fitting material of her button up shirt. "Only you."
With that you were spun in her grasp so that you were the one now pressed against the wall, your cheek smushed against the door. You could feel the vibrations of the music against the locked door, though it felt muffled as all your senses honed in on Hazel. Behind you, she was running her hands over the skin of your thighs, cupping your ass, and only barley running a hand over your soaked core through your underwear, driving you absolutely insane.
"Hazel," you whined, rolling your hips back onto her hand, "Please, just-"
"Say my name again," she ordered, gripping your ass in her hands, her cold rings causing goosebumps to form on the skin.
You tried, truly you did, but between your face against the door, and your mind having seemingly gone completely elsewhere, what came out sounded more like 'Hzmff."
You could feel her smirk as she pressed a kiss behind your ear. "What's wrong, baby?" she asked confidently as she began properly rubbing you through your thin and exceedingly wet underwear. "Can't think straight?"
Your legs all but buckled beneath you ask she finally pushed your underwear to the side, middle and ring finger plunging into your waiting pussy. The only thing keeping you standing was Hazel's spare hand tightly grasping your hip. "Haze, fuck!" you yelled, your hips canting down onto her fingers every time she tried to pull them out. "Please, please."
"What do you want, huh?" The hand on your hip moved away, causing you to stumble onto her fingers for a second. You faintly heard the sound of Hazel undoing her zipper over the bone-vibrating base of the music as you steadied yourself, hazily due to the earth-shattering pleasure that came from your girlfriend's fingers.
Just as you opened your mouth to answer, she quickly pulled your underwear down your legs. You hastily kicked them away, whining as she ran the tip of her strap through your glistening slit. “Oh, god, please I need you,” you cried out, eyes shut and hands clenching around nothing as they were plastered against the door.
Hazel didn’t say anything back. She simply offered you a cocky hum as she continued covering the silicone in your arousal, purposefully bumping the tip of it against your clit. “You want me to fuck you?” she breathed. You couldn’t do anything except frantically nod against the door. “You have to promise to be as loud as possible for me. Can you do that, baby?”
"Yes!" you yelled, backing yourself up against her strap. "I promise, just please-"
A ragged moan escaped you as she finally pushed into you, her hands tightly gripping your hips as she slid in inch by inch. “Fuck, baby, you look so good taking me like that,” she groaned, forehead falling onto your upper back and placing a kiss between your shoulder blades. “Such a pretty pussy.”
You whined at the fact that Hazel had halted the motion of her hips, keeping the strap stagnant at its deepest point inside you. “Please move,” you begged. A whisper was the highest volume you could muster when taking into consideration just how much pleasure was coursing through your body, but Hazel would not have it. Her hand buried itself in the hair at the crown of your head, grabbing a good bit of it and pulling back, just enough to create pleasant sting and force your head from its position where it had previously been squashed against the door.
She leaned forward, her lips level with you ear as she taunted, “What was that, doll?”
“Please move!” you bellowed desperately, remembering her one request. “Fuck me, please!”
“Good girl,” she praised. The first thrust of Hazel’s hips was sharp and bruising. It was clear she was still trying to teach you a lesson, but it made stars burst behind your eyes.
Automatically, your hips moved backwards, fucking yourself back onto her strap every time she thrust out of you. The sounds you were initially only making so loud to appease your girlfriend were now falling from you of their own accord, building in volume you didn’t care to limit. They had become borderline pornographic, and were quickly hurdling far out of your control.
“Does that feel good, baby?”
You nodded, unable to properly form the words she wanted to hear. “Sorry, I can’t hear you,” she taunted, speeding up the pace of her hips.
“F-feels so- uh- good, Haze,” you stuttered out. “You make me feel so good- fuck!”
“You’re mine,” Hazel mumbled as she began placing kisses on your neck and shoulders, making sure to leave marks in her wake. You tried to respond, you tried to agree in earnest that you were hers and eagerly so, but you couldn’t. “Say it,” she demanded with a particularly strong thrust of her hips.
“I-I’m- oh fuck- I’m yours. Hazel, fuck!”
“Not that girl you were dancing with’s, right?” You vehemently shook your head, moaning loudly against the door. “What did you say her name was again?”
You searched your brain for the name of the girl you had danced with. You said it right before you had gotten into the room, surely you could remember it. But as the delicious drag of Hazel’s strap in and out of your body consumed your senses, you found yourself drawing a blank. “I- I don’t know.”
“You just said it a few minutes ago,” Hazel teased. “How could you forget?” She took great pleasure in the look on your face, your attempt at concentration when you were so obviously past any mental point where you could think.
“Don’t c-care!” you exclaimed, clawing at the door in an attempt to ground yourself.
“Why not?”
“Because ‘m yours,” you responded, eyes rolling back in your head as Hazel’s hand snuck around your bodies, rubbing your clit in tight circles.
“That’s right, baby. Good girl,” she commended, her praise running through you like a lightning strike. Your hand scrambled, desperately grabbing Hazel’s wrist to keep her touch right at the place that had you feeling a growing tension in your lower abdomen.
“H-Haze, I’m gonna- unh,” you tried to warn her, but you couldn’t even manage to get the words out.
“Go ahead, doll,” she encouraged, grinning at the volume you were declaring your impending orgasm. “Let it out.”
You came with a shout of her name. The tension pooling in your abdomen crested like rubber band that had been pulled to its limit snapping in half. You felt Hazel’s hands around your waist, pulling your back up against her chest as your hips jerked back onto her strap, chasing every last bit of euphoria she was providing.
She continued fucking you until you tiredly squeezed her hand, a signal for her to stop, breathing heavily and clearly leaning on her to stay upright. You hissed quietly at the empty feeling of Hazel pulling out before falling back into her embrace.
“You know I did that on purpose, right?” you panted out, reveling in the way she held you.
“I know,” Hazel said with a laugh as she ran her fingers through her hair, “but I really couldn’t stand the thought of not fucking you in this dress for any longer,” she continued, grabbing a handful of the silky material of your dress.
You didn’t say it out loud, but you were very grateful that you had that same dress in two other colors.
Sorry, my what? My pronouns? Oh, yeah I'm between genders at the moment. No, it's cool, I quit my last gender a little while ago because it really wasn't working out. I don't know if I even have a dream gender anymore.
Noo but the things women do for patriarchy is very humiliating.
Other groups can admit when we're biting our tongues, wearing a mask and playing along to get ahead but women's shit is so sexualised, it's sold to us like a favour so when you point out madness so many women have such a flaccid response or anger for even saying what's happening.
As a group we don't want to even admit we're humiliating ourselves. Ohhh it's actually power. It's not. When other oppressed groups talk and treat oppression the way women do, most people can point out they're self hating, it's sad to watch and that person has no pride but that doesn't exist for us. Most women are deeply self hating without being explicitly misogynistic but it's so normalised none of us will admit to the small ways we humiliate ourselves and beg. We can't even comment on being in a jail cell without other women behaving wildly delusional.
Misogyny and sexism is treated like a conspiracy theory or pet project and if you do bring it up, some group of men have to be the biggest victim in some way. The micro ways we normalise our humiliation makes consciousness-raising humiliating, uncomfortable and difficult.
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