hi!! i'm syd, welcome to my blog <3
i mostly write cassie/f!reader but feel free to send in requests for all Pitt women! the more depraved the better ;) my requests are always open!
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@hotmisandrist
hi!! i'm syd, welcome to my blog <3
i mostly write cassie/f!reader but feel free to send in requests for all Pitt women! the more depraved the better ;) my requests are always open!
Angst and smut where mckay is JEALOUSSS
Human Nature (pt.2)
Summary: You decide you need to see Cassie one more time before fully letting her go from your life. So when you show up at her apartment, soaked through to the bone from the pouring rain, she has no choice but to let you in
Pairing: Cassie x reader (it's heavily implied reader is a girl/has female genatalia, and long hair or hair of some sort)
W.c: 7.2k | Part one is here!!
warnings/tags: adult language, age gap (although it's not really said; it's more of an implied thing), condescending!Cassie, dom!Cassie, subbish!Cassie towards the end, fingering, orgasm denial, jealous!Cassie, strap use, spitting (and not on the mouth shall I say), tribbing(? Is that the right word for it?), cassie's gold chain makes an appearance, the strap is referred to as 'her cock', pet names (baby, honey, sweet girl, sweetheart, etc.), 'good girl' is used many times, MEN AND MINORS GEEETTTTTT OUUUTTTTT THIS IS STRICTLY 18+
You had gotten really drunk. Really, really drunk.
Somehow, by a miracle (and probably the two full bottles of water Robby made you drink before going to bed that night), you had woken up without a major headache. You didn’t feel sick, either.
Your head just pounded when you sat up, but other than that, you were fine. Which is why Robby felt it was okay to stare at you, disappointingly, from the wall he’s leaning against, which connects the living room to the kitchen/dining room.
“What’s up, boss?” You yawn, stretching on the couch.
“Well, for starters, you’re sleeping on my couch.”
You look down, and around the room you’re in. “I mean, Trinity probably could’ve taken me home if that’s the issue.”
“No, she couldn’t have.” He shakes his head, raising a hand and pointing to the ceiling. “She’s sleeping in the guest room upstairs. Along with Dennis, who’s sleeping on the floor.”
You smile a little at the image rolling around in your head of the two of them in Robby’s guest room before stretching again and finally getting to your feet. Your vision swims a little, but before Robby can try to steady you, you do it yourself.
“I’m alright. I’m fine.” You insist.
“I have a pot of coffee ready on the kitchen counter. Please drink some.” He holds his hands in a prayer motion, pressing the tips of his fingers to his lips.
“Yeah, coffee sounds really good right now.” You’re not even that big of a coffee drinker. You prefer tea, if anything. Which is what Cassie usually will get you if she happens to be the one on a coffee run that morning.
Cassie.
You had forgotten all about what had happened last night between you and her. And now the name that once brought butterflies to your stomach has soured.
Fuck Cassie.
Fuck Cassie McKay, fuck Cassie McKay, fuck Cassie McKay.
As much as the words help to channel your anger, the truth is is that you’re sad. You’re heartbroken. You thought that maybe something would’ve changed last night and she would say yes to actually dating you after she fucked you in that bathroom.
But some part deep in your mind had whispered to you that it knew that would never happen.
You sighed as you lifted the coffee pot to your mug, watching the steam curl into the air. It was decided that you would forget about it, about everything that happened. You wouldn’t bring it up in conversation; you wouldn’t corner her at work and try to pry it out of her; none of that.
Sugar was poured into the cup as well as cream as you told yourself you didn’t care. You told yourself you were mature. You told yourself you could handle it the way adults handled things they didn’t like- without fuss and without bitterness.
However, it all went down the drain when you walked into work the next day, and Cassie smiled at you as if nothing had happened. Not a real apology. Not even a “sorry, I shouldn’t have left you like that.”
Just that particular Cassie McKay charm. A nice, smooth smile that seemed like she’d practiced in the mirror and aimed directly at the parts of you that used to melt. ‘Used to’ isn’t the right word, however, because she could still melt parts of you without even trying.
But you remembered how her eyes had slid past yours when she said it. Like it was a choice, you were a choice she’d regretted making.
So now, you decided you weren’t going to be sweet about it.
If Cassie needed something, you helped. If Cassie spoke, you answered. If Cassie looked at you like she used to before, you kept your face neutral and your tone light. Light enough to pass as polite and heavy enough to sting.
You didn’t have to be cruel to be petty. Petty was just something you called it when you refused to give her access to you that she once had for free.
By the time lunch rolled around, you were somewhat depleted. You ate your sandwich. You checked your phone. You listened to Perlah and Princess talk about the fireworks shows, and the neighborhood parades, and who they’d heard had been drunk enough to confess love to the wrong person.
However, you were sort of excited. You had a date, after all. With Doctor Lorenz. And you weren’t going to let anything get in the way. The hours seemed to stretch on until it hit 7:30. You weren’t waiting for someone to give you the okay to leave; you were just out of there.
Doctor Lorenz was amazing. When she laughed, it was warm. She listened and waited for her turn to speak whenever you talked, and she said she was interested in you. Like very, very interested. Actually interested.
She didn’t have you confused about what her next move would be. It made the anger you had carried around all day lessen a little bit. So, you went home with her. Because why not? And she was good, really good. Had your legs shaking good.
By the time you got home, your phone was full of messages from Doctor Lorenz. She checked in, asked you to text her back when you made it home safely, asked what you’d like to do next time, if there is a next time, etc.
It should’ve been exciting.
It was.
But every time your mind drifted, it returned to the thought of: Cassie could’ve had this.
Cassie could’ve had you, whole and not half-taken, if she’d chosen to. If she’d acted like you mattered after she decided she wanted more than sex. But she hadn’t. She’d acted like you were disposable, and your petty streak flared again, bright and bitter.
But it’s not because you wanted to hurt Cassie. You could never hurt Cassie. You just wanted her to understand that it hurt you.
Work the next morning felt amazing, but you were tired. People moved around you like they were in their own world. You had barely sat down when you saw Cassie across the office. She looked…fine. Of course she did. Cassie wore fine like armor.
Her smile was bright, her posture perfect, her attention sharp. It landed on you, and you kept your gaze on your screen. You didn’t give her the satisfaction. Cassie walked by your desk, however.
“Morning.”
You answered, neutral. “Morning.”
For a heartbeat, it felt almost like before. Then Cassie’s eyes flicked down to your phone as your screen dimmed, but you hadn’t locked it fully, and the preview of your last message from Doctor Lorenz flashed long enough for her to see.
You watched as something registered in her mind, and she simply nodded before leaving you alone.
That night, you’d showered and dried your hair and changed into clothes that didn’t smell like work stress. Your phone sat face down on the counter.
But it felt like something was missing. Someone was missing. It had your mind racing and your heart beating fast. You wanted to yell, scream, something. So, you got dressed and started to walk down the front steps of your apartment.
You wanted her. Not Doctor Lorenz. Cassie. You wanted Cassie. So bad.
And soon enough you found yourself running to her apartment. It had begun to rain on your drive home, so you don’t exactly know what part of your brain thought this was a good idea. Clearly not the rational part.
At first you thought it was because you couldn’t stand being alone anymore. You were springing up the steps towards Cassie’s building, and your thoughts narrowed to one thing: You just needed to see her.
It wasn’t to beg, and it wasn’t to forgive her either. You just needed to look at her.
Your shoes thudded on the steps; you banged your fist on her door and waited a few minutes in the rain as you waited for her to answer. Water slid down your sleeves, down your arms. You were soaked through to your bones, rainwater dripping off your lashes. When she didn’t come, you banged again, knuckles against the door.
You swallowed your nerves and pride before they both made you turn and walk away from this all. Finally, Cassie stood there, watching as rain slicked your hair to your forehead, darkening it until it looked nearly black. Your hoodie was damp, your shoulders slick with water, and the warm light from her apartment was splayed in the back of her, making it look like a halo of bright light was shining behind her. Your eyes were too bright, too alive, too full of feelings you clearly did not know how to hold inside of you.
“Cassie,” you said, surprised that your voice didn’t crack. One of her hands was braced on the frame. Her expression went blank the second she saw you, but only for a brief second. It was back to being something like hurt. But she shouldn’t be hurt. It’s you that should be hurt.
Her gaze flicked past you. She needed proof of what you were doing, why you were here, whether anyone else was with you. Then she looked back at your face, and the jealousy hit her so fast.
“What are you doing?” She demanded.
Your breath was rough. “You. We just- I just needed to see you.”
Cassie stared at you like you had three heads. “You’re soaked,” she said, voice dropping.
“I know.” Your laugh came out shaky. But it wasn’t really even a laugh. “I didn’t plan it.”
“You didn’t plan it?” Cassie stepped back automatically, and it seemed to you as though her body had decided to let you in before her mouth did. “Come in.”
The second you crossed the threshold, the cold seemed to grab you harder. Your legs wobbled slightly, not from weakness but from shock. Cassie closed the door behind you with a soft click. And she reached for you, something you never thought would happen again. She reached for you, her hands finding your shoulders, guiding you toward the entry area.
She peeled your wet outer layer away from your body carefully, as if you were fragile. You shivered when the rain-soaked fabric moved, chills stabbing up your spine. Cassie noticed instantly, and her eyes flicked down, moving again over you, briskly. “Shoes off.”
“What?” You managed.
“Shoes off,” she repeated, firmer this time. You kicked them away, one by one. Wet socks slapped against the floor. Your hands trembled as you tried to fold your arms over yourself. But before you could even try to warm up, Cassie reached behind you, placing a towel into your hands.
“I just needed to see you,” you said again, softer this time. Like maybe if you repeated it enough times, it would stop sounding so desperate. Some flicker of emotion crossed her face, quick and painful. She took the towel from your hands and, without asking, began to dry you.
Slowly, around your hair first, patting your scalp, trying to coax the warmth back into you. Her fingers moved over your wet strands, friction gentle but certainly effective. Then the towel moved to your shoulders.
The care she took in trying to make you warm again, it made the anger flare to cover the surprise. You tried to turn your head away, to hide how much the attention affected you. “You don’t have to- I can dry myself.”
Cassie’s voice seemed close to your ear when she answered. “I’m not doing it because I have to.”
Your breath caught. She finished drying your hair, then moved the towel down your neck, over your collarbone. You felt every point of contact, every small pressure. “Cassie,” you said, and your own voice sounded wrong.
She placed the towel aside on the nearby kitchen counter before asking you, “Look at me.” So you did. “The other night-” she began.
“It’s fine, Cassie.”
“It’s not fine,” she says roughly. “I was- it wasn’t right, what I said. And just leaving you like that. I- It was me being an asshole.”
You look at her. “Yeah,” you say. She huffs. “I mean, I know that already. I worked it out from the beginning.”
Her lip twitches. Any other time, she would snarl at you to lose the attitude, probably fuck you into a happier mood. Maybe that’s why you keep prodding. Maybe you kind of wish she would.
“You want a drink?” She counters instead. You look at her in shock a little bit. Not really. But what can you say? You don’t want to leave right now, and this seems like your only way to stay. She grabs two glasses and pours the two of you some water.
You’re still shivering. Cassie reached out and touched your cheek with the back of her fingers. “I hate seeing you like this,” she admitted. You swallowed, heart thudding too hard. Your mouth opened, but nothing came out at first. “You’re cold. So we’re fixing that first.”
She moved you, guiding you toward the couch area in her living room. The lights were dimmed. Cassie reached out for a blanket and draped it over your legs. Then she grabbed another towel, and she turned on the heater nearby.
You sat there, wrapped, shivering less, watching her. “If this is an apology,” you say, slowly, “It’s kind of terrible.”
She pauses, drink halfway to her lips. “Jesus,” she mutters, voice muffled in the glass. “You’re a pain in the ass sometimes.” You grab your own drink, taking a sip. You ignore the way your fingers tremble on the glass. “I’m sorry,” she says after a beat.
Your brow lifts. You look at her in a sort of ‘keep going’.
“I shouldn’t have-” she cuts herself off with a sigh. She looks physically pained, and you wonder what it is that’s killing her; if it’s the apology itself, or what she’s trying to apologize for. “I shouldn’t have said it. Any of it. It wasn’t fair to you. And I was…I don’t know. Scared, maybe.”
“Scared?” You almost laugh. “Of what? Me?”
Her jaw jumps. “No, not of you. Of this going on between us.”
Your face heats. “There is no this, though, Cassie. You made sure of that; you made that perfectly clear.” She’s silent, so you press her. “That’s what you wanted,” you say. “That’s…Cassie, that’s what you wanted.” “Of course it’s not what I wanted, baby,” she says. “You-”
“Then why-”
“Because it’s too much,” she sets her glass down on the coffee, and her fingers rub at the pinnacle of her nose, between her eyes. Her eyes flash. “It’s too much, baby. It’s too much. You’re…you’re dangerous.”
“I’m dangerous?”
“You don’t get it,” she says. “You don’t see what you do sometimes. It wasn’t just nothing to me.”
You’re silent now. You can hear your heart beating between your ears. “It wasn’t nothing to me either.” You mumble. “It was never nothing.”
“No?” She now challenges. “You moved on pretty quickly.”
You set the glass down opposite hers. When you straighten, your breath comes out faster, harder. “Fuck off,” you say softly. “You have no right.”
She’s silent.
“Amy is good for me,” you say. You’re not sure who you’re convincing. “She’s good to me. She’s…nice.”
“She’s nice, hm?” Cassie repeats. The word sounds empty when she says it. It sounds like nothing. “And is that what you wanted?” Her voice is low, and you don’t remember when she got this close. “Nice?”
Your stomach tugs. Your face flushes. The flame on your cheeks spills to your neck. But you stand your ground. “Yes,” you grit out.
Cassie makes a quiet sound. “Did she fuck you nice too?”
“Cass,” you warn. But there’s no bite. Your resolve is slipping faster than you can snatch it back. And she knows it. She knows it because she knows you.
“Show me,” she says.
You swallow. She’s so close you can taste her: her breath on your lips and her scent in your nose. “Show you…what?”
“Show me how she fucked you,” she says.
“I don’t-” Your heat clears its way up your throat. Your pulse is drumming at your wrist, stuttering under her stare. Something is making you bolder than you feel.
Fuck you, Cassie McKay, you think. And you want to. You really, really want to. It’s the only thing you could think about these past few days. So you show her. Even though what she’s asking is wrong, twisted, and fucked. You tilt into her, the rest of the way, and press your lips to hers.
You feel as her tongue flicks out to meet yours, slipping hot inside your mouth. Sparks settle in your core. Your fingers tangle in her hair. You tug, pulling her head back, breaking the kiss. Your breath mingles with hers. You reach for her hand. It’s bigger than Amy’s. Rougher. Your fingers wrap around hers, and you lean her palm to your thigh.
“Like this,” you say, softly. “We started like this.”
She doesn’t move right away. She lets the heat from her palm seep under your jeans and settle into your skin. Testing you: testing how long you’ll wait for her. When you can’t take it anymore, you guide her higher. You urge her hand between your thighs and her thumb rolls a circle over your clothed clit. You make a small, desperate noise which makes her pause with her fingers pressed to your core.
“Did you make those sounds for her?” She breathes.
Your face burns. She rubs you slowly, deliberately, and you begin to rut into her palm. Your sleep pants dig into your cunt when you arch your hips, and the pressure is unbearable. You’re so tightly wound you’re surprised you don’t snap.
When you don’t answer her, she stops abruptly. Completely. Her fingers threaten to drag away before you’re pleading. “No,” you gasp. “No. I would never- I could never make those noises for her. Only you. Please.”
“Please what?” She mutters.
“Touch me,” you plead.
“I am touching you, sweet girl.” She says. “I’m touching you just like she did. Since you liked it so much. Since you wanted her so bad.”
“I didn’t,” you mumble. “I don’t, I wasn’t…Cassie, I wa-”
You’re not even sure what you’re saying. You can barely hear yourself think over the roar in your ears. She’s moving slowly, so slowly that all bets are off. You’re honestly ready to beg her, please, if it means she’ll stop teasing you and just pull your fucking pants down.
But she’s not finished. You have a feeling she’s just getting started when she pulls her hand back, picks her drink up from the coffee table, and takes a long, quiet sip while you sink into her sofa. You hear her glass clink when she sets it back down. She stands then, turning to look at you as she says,
“Take them off.”
You don’t ask her to elaborate. You know what she wants, and she sets her gaze on yours as you lose your pants and your underwear and kick them to the floor.
“Did you leave your shirt on?” She asks, head tilted. “For her?”
“No,” you say softly.
“Then take it off.”
So you do. Bra as well. They both join the pile on the floor, and you settle back into the sofa, shy as all hell.
You don’t know why you’re shy, because you’ve been naked in front of Cassie a million times. More than that, really. But it’s the first time you’ve really been naked in front of her. You’re not self-conscious, usually, and it’s probably even more silly to be self-conscious now, in front of her, after you’ve fucked another woman. But you just can’t help it. There’s something about her stare as her eyes roam all over you.
Amy was so complimentary, so nice. She paused at every moment to tell you how beautiful you looked, how gorgeous; she would ask if you were okay; it was really sweet. She was really sweet.
Cassie, though. Cassie doesn’t say anything at all. She just looks at you the way no one’s looked at you before. She looks at you like you’re the only person she’s ever bothered to see. Her stare rakes over you, over your body, and when she speaks, her voice is hoarse.
“Tell me,” she says quietly. “Tell me what else.”
“Cassie,” you mumble. “We don’t have to- I mean-”
“Tell me,” She insists.
You hesitate. “She-” you swallow. Your throat feels tight. “I was on my back,” you say, cheeks blazing. “And she used…she used her fingers.”
You watch Cassie’s eyes go dark. Blue to black. “Get on your back,” she demands quietly.
You catch her eye and your pulse skips. You scoot back, lying down on her couch, with your back flat on the cushions and your neck propped on a pillow. You can feel how wet you are, rubbing your legs together to seek some sort of friction, but she’s quick to work her hands up your thighs, prying them apart, and you gasp as her fingers brush the arousal there and she hums.
“I know this is all for me, but I’d still like to ask.” She breathes.
Your breath hitches. You lift your hips off the cushions, chasing her hand. She slowly slides a finger over your folds, gathering some of the slick, and presses the pad of her finger to your entrance. You can only squirm in response.
“You,” you whine, pushing your hips up, trying in vain to pull her deeper. “All for you, of course it is, Cass.” You hear her make a noise in agreement.
She slips one finger inside before asking outright. “One finger?” she asks, fucking into you with a crooked index finger. Her thumb rolls lazy circles over your clit. It was enough to make you want more, need more, chase more, but it wasn’t nearly enough to make you cum. “Or did she use two?”
“Two,” you mumble. “She used two.” That’s a slight lie. While Amy was good at what she did, she was scared to make a mistake, even though she had a lot more experience than you. So she had used only one finger, even when you pressed for two.
“Are you sure it was two?” She taunts you. But you don’t have enough time to answer as she slips another finger inside you, stretching you just right, bracing on her free hand as she leans forward and begins to fuck you deeper. “Did she do it like this?”
You just moan, and it’s not even words. It’s something completely unintelligible. So she demands more.
“Words, sweetheart. Use your words for me.”
“She was….fuck, she was softer. M-more gentle.”
“Oh, was she now?” She hooks her fingers, and you cry out. “And is that what you wanted, honey? You wanted gentle?”
She slows down. Her movements soften, and you rut your hips in frustration. “No,” you yelp. “No.”
“No,” she agrees. She crooks her fingers again, and you come dangerously close to falling apart in her hands. The heel of her palm bumps your clit, and the contact makes you see stars. “Of course you don’t.”
Your head rolls against the pillow. Your vision swims because of her taunting words and when her wrist pumps faster. You can feel the fabric of her long-sleeve graze your thighs while she works you with her fingers- and it strikes you she’s still dressed. Like completely dressed. Not with just her shirt on and underwear, or maybe her pants are hanging low on her hips.
She’s completely, fully dressed. She’s got on some sort of sweatshirt whose sleeves have been pushed up to her elbows, and some old sweatpants. She has her slippers still on, planted on the carpet. She’s dressed like she’s ready for bed and you’re naked, totally naked, sprawled out on her sofa with your fingers inside you.
You want to tell her to take some clothes off: to even the playing field, a little, but you can’t think that far ahead. Not when your muscles clamp down around her knuckles and your breath is stolen from your throat with each move of her fingers. You try to tell her, desperately, that you’re-
“I-I’m gonna cum,” you whine. “Please-”
“Did she make you cum?” She asks, roughly, fingers still pumping into you.
You try to give her an answer; you try to focus. Your head swims, however, with trying to come up with a reply. “Cass-”
“Come on, baby, I know you can give me an answer. Did she make you cum like this?”
You can’t even lie this time. There’s no energy left inside you. “No,” you whine. “No, she didn’t.”
“Fuck, sweetheart,” she murmurs. It sounds almost…sympathetic. “I thought you said she was nice, honey.”
You feel her drag her hand away, right before you can even get your fill, and the message i clear. You didn’t cum then, and so you’re not going to cum now. You know what she’s doing. She’s going to play this game, give you the runaround, until you break and eventually beg her to fuck you the way she knows you really want to be fucked. Funnily enough, the only way Cassie can.
But you’re anything if not stubborn, and you’re pretty sure you’re still supposed to be angry with her. So you decide within yourself to hold out a little longer. Even when you writhe against the cushions, you whimper at the loss and begin to plead with her to touch you again.
“Focus,” she tells you. Her voice is dark. “What else she do, honey?”
“Her,” you breathe hard, trying to focus on getting the words out by looking up at the ceiling. You can’t even dare to spare a glance at her because you know your mind will turn to mush. “Her- fuck. Her mouth…”
She pauses. You can feel her pause, so you go against your better judgment and lower your head. You tip your head forward, off of the pillow, trying to get a read when she doesn’t respond right away. Her hands flex. She looks… more than jealous and mad. She looks absolutely pissed off.
“You let her…” Her eyes flicker down between your legs. “You let her taste you?” she says almost in disbelief.
You look at her. You’re panting. It’s short, shallow breaths as you nod. “Yes.” You really want to taunt her back, so you find yourself licking your lips as you say, “And she was good with her mouth, too.”
“Fuck you,” she swears. Her jaw tightens. She rolls her shoulders back, as if bracing for something. She now looks big and broad and ticked the fuck off. You know she had been working out for some time now, but it didn’t really register how big she was getting until now. Until she’s standing above you and looks like she could sling you easily over her shoulder if prompted enough.
Jesus Christ. You feel yourself getting wetter by the second at the thought of her pinning you down, because she definitely can, and making you cum for her over and over and over again. She sheds her sweater, and you can see the more prominent muscles of hers. Her shoulders are slightly more squared, she’s got noticeable biceps, and you can feel your mouth watering at the sight.
She pushes the sleeves of her long-sleeve shirt up to her forearms and sinks to her knees, facing the sofa. She grabs your calves with her hands and moves you like a rag doll, like you weigh nothing, shifting you around until your back is flat and your legs hang off the couch.
You let out a little oomph when your head slips off the pillow. She shuffles closer to the edge of the sofa, lifting your calves over her shoulders in a swift, easy motion, and drags her head down to your cunt.
You feel her breath hot and heavy against your core. You squirm, trying to grab at her hair, but she’s too far away. “I’m better, and you know that.” Her voice goes straight to your cunt. Your legs strain, digging into her muscular shoulders. “Isn’t that right, baby? Did she make you cum in her mouth?”
“Yes,” you whine, defiantly. Your hips rise and then fall, chasing her lips, and you can feel your resolve waning. “Yes, she did. And it was so good. So fucking good.” Your head spins.
“It was, was it?” Her teeth close around some of your skin on your stomach. She applies gentle, gentle pressure, enough to make you cry out a little bit. And then her tongue is sliding into you, hot and wet, curving inside you with a wicked hum.
“Oh, fuck,” you mumble. “Fuck, Cassie!”
She slides her tongue out of you. Just long enough to ask you, in a whisper. “When you said you needed to see me, is this why, hm? Is this why you ran all the way here?”
You moan weakly. You nod, or try to anyway. “You’re a dirty fucking girl. And were you thinking about me when you came in some other woman’s mouth, too? Did you think about my fingers?”
“Yes,” you whimper. You’re beyond caring, now. “Yes, yes, I did. I’m sorry.” You can’t think about anything that doesn’t start or end with anyone but Cassie.
“I think you’re lying.” She tells you, spitting on your cunt before moving her tongue up and down. “I don’t think you came for her. At all. I think you played nice, faking it for her. Did you play nice, hm?” “Yes,” you pant again. “I-I faked it for her.”
“And what about now, honey? Are you gonna fake it for me?”
“No,” you have to gather enough breath to push the words out. “No, fuck no.”
“That’s what I thought,” she responds. She licks a stripe up your clit with the flat of her tongue. You let out a strangled cry and dig your nails into her sofa. “I’m sorry, too, honey.”
At first, you think she’s apologizing for acting the way she did at Robby’s party. Maybe she feels remorse for leaving you in that bathroom with a kiss to your forehead as the parting gift. But instead, she follows it up with:
“I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to wait,” and she pulls away.
“Fuck,” you sob. “Come on, Cass, please?”
“I can’t, sweet girl,” she murmurs. “You wanted to fuck her so bad, so I’ll fuck you the same. You lied to me and said you came for her. That’s an extra strike.”
“But that…” You’re so frustrated you almost make a growl like a furious dog as you try to find the right words. “That was different, Cassie, I swear.” You would kill her if you had the energy and could string more than a few words together. “She wasn’t… fuck, she wasn’t you, Cass.” You writhe against her mouth.
She makes a quiet, hungry sound. Her tongue slips back inside you, and you grip at her hands. She intertwines your fingers with hers, and you rock your hips against her more forcefully. She just takes it, letting you be loud as you call her name, over and over and over, when she fucks you with her tongue but still doesn’t let you cum. But she doesn’t shut you up this time; she doesn’t use one of her hands to clamp down over your mouth; she doesn’t shove your panties into your mouth. She just listens to you whine her name. And when she drags her mouth away from your cunt, she murmurs yours against you.
She soon stands and pulls you up. You’re not sure where you’re going. You don’t really care. Her hands go to your waist and help you to whatever room she’s directing the two of you towards. You hear her soft footsteps on the hardwood, and you feel her hands when they squeeze you closer.
You stop in front of her bedroom door, and it creaks open and shuts once you’re inside. Cool air hits your skin; it smells different in here, like lilacs. Like she lit some candles before you showed up. She sets you down on her bed; striped sheets crumple where you land.
Everything smells like her.
She doesn’t join you on the bed right away. She gets undressed first. You listen and watch as she takes off her shirt first, and then her bra. Then her sweatpants and underwear. “Did she use a strap?” Cassie asks and you nod. She reaches into her closet and rummages around for something before she’s pulling out a box.
You can only keep your eyes on hers as she opens the cover and begins to pull on the straps of something. It’s obviously her strap, and she settles everything on her hips, checking twice to make sure things are in place, before she’s climbing on top of you, caging you into soft sheets, and your hands come up to skim her arms.
“How?” She breathes.
“Cass,” you mumble. You don’t want to think about Amy anymore. Doctor Lorenz. You don’t want to think about anyone else besides Cassie, the woman above you whose chain is currently dangling in front of your face. You want Cassie. Just Cassie. “Cassie,” you whine again. “Please.”
“How?” She echoes. Your head tips against the pillows. Your cunt throbs, aching, begging for her.
“She was on top,” you tell her. “We were…I mean we were like this.”
“Okay.” She nods, slowly. “Good girl for listening.” She mumbles before nudging her hips forward. The head of the silicone cock rubs against your entrance, and you whimper, arching back against white sheets.
“Thank you.” You respond to her earlier comment.
“Was it like this?” She murmurs. She snakes a hand between you both. Fists the base of the cock in her palm and guides it through your slick.
“Shit,” you gasp. “Yes like this.”
“Did she talk to you? Tell me she at least talked to you.”
“Yes,” you plead. “But not like this.”
“Not like what, sweetheart?” She begins to move agonizingly slow, rubbing the head of her cock against your clit. Your fingers fumble for purchase in the sheets.
“Not like how you talk to me,” you say, breath tangled.
“That’s such a shame, baby.” She murmurs.
“Please,” you beg her. “Talk to- talk to me, please?”
“I can’t, sweet girl.” She sounds sympathetic. Almost. If she wasn’t being so goddamn mean. She drags her cock back over your slit, coaxing her name from your lips. She finally pushes inside you, and you’re so overstimulated, and after being denied about three orgasms already, just the tip of her cock makes you shiver. Your whole body tenses, seizing up under her when she bottoms out inside you.
Your hands find her shoulders. Your nails dig in there, scratching at her skin, drawing tiny lines of blood when she pulls out of you and thrusts back.
“It’s too bad, too.” She’s muttering. Her mouth hangs by your neck, close enough to kiss you, touch you- but never quite dropping that extra, desperate inch. You feel like you need something else to grab onto, to hold against you. You grab her gold chain with your teeth, biting down on the metal as she babbles. “Because I’d tell you how good you’re being, how much of a good girl you are. I’d tell you how pretty you look taking me.”
You moan. Your hips rock, chasing her cock when she grinds down into you. She drags herself out, dripping onto white sheets, and you gasp at how empty you feel. “Is that what you wanted her to say, hm?”
“Yes,” you whisper. You scratch down her shoulders, trying to pull her back.
She’s stronger than you, though, so she doesn’t budge. Eventually, you have to give up because you’re exerting more energy than you have. You fall back against the pillows with your hands going slack at her shoulders.
It’s only then that she picks back up. She lines her hips with yours and thrusts back into you with a tight, shallow groan. She hits that spongy spot inside you, and you whine into her chest.
“Oh my god,” you mumble. “You-you feel so good.” Heat licks at your core; it spills to your skin and sets you on fire. You’ve lost track of how many orgasms she’s denied you. But the collective build-up is threatening to take you out. “F-faster,” you tell her, urgently. Your fingers dig into her back, spurring her on, clinging to her when she snaps her hips and makes you yelp.
She obliges, muttering against your neck, pounding into you. The slap of skin on skin punches in between your breaths. Your eyes roll. Your vision fogs. “Cass,” you mumble.
“Tell me-” she pleads, hips flexing. “Tell me she made you cum like this, honey.”
“Cassie,” you echo.
“C’mon sweet girl, tell me,” she grits.
“No,” you cry. “No, she didn’t.
“Jesus, baby,” she groans. “You’re breaking my heart, honey.” And then she pulls out, and doesn’t let you cum.
“Cassie, please!” You writhe underneath her. You scratch at her back, her sides, her arms. You leave desperate marks on her skin. “I just want you.” You sob; tears sting your eyes. “Please. I want- fuck, Cassie- I want you.”
Her gaze softens. A sad sort of smile tugs at her lips. She bends to kiss you, soft and slow and not at all like the Cassie you’re used to. You mumble against his mouth, and her tongue dips in to taste you. You lift a shaking hand to trace her jaw. Your finger trembles at the edge of her mouth, holding her lips to you. You keep it there when she breaks the kiss.
“I’m sorry,” she breathes. Her eyes are lighter. They look blue once again. “For everything. I’m sorry.”
Your breath snags. You stare up at her, lips grazing hers, and your heart tugs. “I had to show you; now you show me,” you say softly. “Please, Cassie.”
She nods, dipping her head down to kiss your neck before getting onto her knees on the bed. She unhitches the straps on her hips before casting the whole thing aside. She moves the two of you until your cunt is moving against the top of her thigh, and her cunt is against your thigh.
It makes the two of you look at each other, her entire body relaxing against yours. She blinks at you, her hands skating up your ribcage. You blush. You’re nervous, for some reason. It’s intimate. More intimate than your mouth on her or your palms pressed to Robby’s sink counter, your cheek flat on the mirror.
This is something else. It makes your pulse hitch. “We…um, we didn’t…” You stumble, “this isn’t how we did it.”
Her gaze softens, and her hand moves higher, over your breast and your collar, snaking under your hair to the back of your neck. She pushes there, gently, pressing your chest to hers. “It’s okay. That’s what I want.”
You melt into her. Her hands skate up your back, holding you close.
“I need you,” you say, breathless. “Cassie, please. I want you.”
“Okay,” she murmurs. Her hands slide down to your ass. She lifts your hips and lines you with her thigh. “Okay, sweetheart. I need you too.” She guides your hips down, onto her, and you bury your face in her neck. You hear her stilted groan when you begin to move, as does she. “Fuck,” she mutters.
“Don’t do that again,” you tell her, fingers digging into her forearms as you use the leverage to move faster against her and, in turn, give her more pleasure. “Don’t leave me like that again.”
You grind your hips down, and it has you rutting your leg up against her cunt, which makes her hiss. “Fuck,” she pants. “I won’t, honey, I promise. I won’t.” She reaches her head up, and you kiss her, as the heat in your core starts to swirl again. Cassie nips at your lower lip and your breath stumbles, hips stuttering on her thigh.
You move your hands down to grasp at her ass, making her move faster on you. You do the same, and one of your hands leaves to play with her clit, adding to her already building stimulation. She matches your pace, and your eyes roll. “God, Cass-”
“You’re gonna make me cum. I’m gonna cum.” She whines. Her arms are wrapped around your back, holding you steady. Your other thigh closes in against hers, making sure she stays on top of you like this.
“Shhhh, it’s okay,” you tell her. “It’s okay. I got you.”
You take over for her, moving and hitting your leg against her clit. You listen as she rests her head in the crook of your neck, whimpering into your skin when she rolls her hips up into you, over and over, again and again, clutching you to her body and making sure you’re getting equal pleasure.
“I- shit- you make me feel so good, baby.”
Your hand comes up to wrap around the back of her neck, clasping her to you as she picks up the pace of her own movements. “Easy, Cass. You’re going to tire yourself out.”
“Fuck, I don’t care,” she mumbles. “I just want to hear you cum.”
“Come for me first,” you murmur. “It’s okay. I got you.”
“It’s not fair,” She whispers. “It wouldn’t be- fuck- it wouldn’t be fair.” She’s shaking her head. “Just come for me, please just come for me.”
So you cum for her. You cum so hard your vision pulls blank. You stop moving on her thigh; your hips jerk as white-hot heat runs rapidly through your body. She nips at your neck, your throat, your jaw, and then her mouth finds yours and she’s kissing the hell out of you.
“Cass,” you have enough air to gasp when her thrusts against your leg falter, and she breaks the kiss so you can speak. “Please.” You don’t know what you’re asking for. Her chain is still cold against your skin.
Her head tips, and you feel her hips also stutter. Her stomach tightens against yours. She’s close. You loosen your legs before she brings them right back, hips jerking. She thrusts once, twice, and then she’s spilling all over you with a rough, brambled groan. Her head soon rolls forward and thuds against your shoulder bone. Her body twitches.
Your mind is going a thousand miles an hour, and simultaneously, nowhere at all. Your shaking hand reaches up and smooths over some of her hair, soothing the two of you as you try to catch your breath. One of her hands moves out from underneath you and begins to skate up and down your arm. At least you know she’s alive.
“I don’t want you to leave. Stay here. With me.” She begs you, and you have to let out a laugh. “Please.”
“That was the plan.” Your lips whisper the words against her temple. She nods before picking her head up and brushing a stray hair back from your face. Her thumb traces the hollow of your cheek.
“I’ve missed you.” She responds and bends her head back down to kiss you again.
a/n: guys, I flirted with a girl the other night, and I don't think she noticed....I grabbed her hand and everything...and then she invited me to her house 🤭
The Pitt 1x02
I neeeeeeedddddd Cassie with a mommy kink for reader asap 🙏🙏🙏
-despite doing it all day long at work, cassie lovessss taking care of you when she gets home, making sure you’ve eaten and drinken, rubbing your back, running you a bath, etc
-cassie loves your age gap, seeing the looks on your coworkers’ faces when they find out, watching the gears turn in peoples’ heads in public trying to work out what you two are, then watching cassie slide her hand all the way up under your skirt
-cassie loves when she fucks you senseless, the only thing you’re able to get out is “mommy..mommy…mommy please” knowing you’re all hers, you need her :(
-baiting cass into punishing you by teasing her all day with sickly sweet “yes, mommy”s and “whatever you want, mommy”s in public, watching her glare at you because she can’t reprimand you how she wants while you’re in public, you’re barely one foot in the door at home when she’s grabbing you by the back of the neck & asking who you think you are
LOWK BRAT TAMER MCKAY
-cassie silently reprimanding you at work when you step out of line; stern glares and silent head cocking to convey her disapproval of your behavior
-cassie forcing you to always use your manners with her; please & thank you, look at her when she’s speaking to you, etc etc. grabbing your jaw in missionary and forcing you to look at her, “you’re gonna look at me when i’m fucking you” 😵💫
-cassie fucking you in doggy and you won’t hold still, pinning your wrists behind your back so she can have you exactly where she wants you :(
-you’ve been pawing at her all day while she’s been busy and she finally gets time in the evening to make you fuck yourself on her thigh, “since you’re just soooo desperate you can do it yourself, bunny”
cassie would lowk be into age gap, like reader mentioning a band they like and cassie saying something along the lines of “i remember seeing them before you were born” 😵💫
cassie would make that comment and reader would stare back at her with puppy dog eyes <3 reader’s slight internal panic wondering how to respond with words rather than just a dropped jaw and ‘fuck me’ eyes. cassie uses it to tease reader because she secretly loves reminding you of how taboo it really is :((
send me your mean/dark cassie thoughts i wanna do more drabbles <3
Teacher’s Pet
-prof!cassie mckay/student!reader au <3
-warnings: f!reader, smut, dirty talk, fingering, praise, etc etc i’m bad at tagging </3
-word count: ~3k
-a/n: hi!! sorry for brief writing hiatus life is fucking crazy :( also yes i know, very unique title whatever whatever. this is in response to a couple different teacher/student reqs i got! reader is legal age & in college :) enjoy!
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As you entered the sparsely-populated lecture hall, you cursed yourself under your breath for forgetting your cardigan again today. After about a month of class, you’d come to figure out which seats got hit by the draft from the window, which was nearly all of them, thanks to the decades-old building that your major was housed in, and you settled into your unofficially -claimed front row seat. The foldout desk was wobbly and had quite a few inscriptions carved into the wood, but the seat gave you the ideal position to ask questions easily when needed and forced you to stay focused on the lecture in front of you.
Dr. Cassie Mckay taught Psychology of Antisocial Behavior every Tuesday and Thursday from 2:30 to 3:50pm, and you happened to book a slot in her class at the last minute as registration closed. It fit with your schedule, and was technically a required course, but it was one you had been avoiding due to it being particularly writing intensive. You weren’t a bad writer by any means, just an uninspired one when it came to academic papers, and you couldn’t afford to tank your GPA right now with scholarship eligibility verification coming up at the end of the term.
As Dr. Mckay walked through the door, you pulled out your laptop and got settled in, ready to transcribe notes. She had been covering common personality disorders, and you had a hard time keeping each of them straight in your head with how many shared similar traits and comorbidities. Glancing up from your screen, you notice Dr. Mckay at her desk, passing the time before class officially started, and you take note of her finely-tailored outfit, complete with an intricate updo, her auburn locks twisted back to frame her face. You realized you were staring a moment too late, her striking eyes locking on yours with a quizzical quality. An involuntary flush covered your cheeks as you quickly directed your focus back on your laptop, and you were grateful to hear the door slam shut, marking the 2:30pm starting time.
It wasn’t that you had a crush on your professor, but Dr. Mckay had a particularly alluring quality about her that you struggled to ignore. She spoke so eloquently and intelligently, never needing a slideshow to compensate during her lectures, and you appreciated that in a professor. She kept you engaged, hanging on her every word, and you found yourself reading up on material before class so that you’d be able to quickly and correctly answer the questions she posed throughout her lectures. Her brief praise that followed your precise answers was nothing more than that–brief praise; but it was enough to keep you reading your textbook until the early hours of the night to hear her say it all over again.
You even started attending her office hours, playing dumb and asking her to reexplain concepts you had mastered two chapters ago just to spend more time in her presence. The two of you became friendly, enough for her to remember your name and say hi in passing in the hallway, but it never passed through the threshold of anything more. In fact, after a couple weeks, Cassie seemed to pull back, reducing interactions to a brisk exchange of words, directing you instead to outside resources for your questions and limiting her responses to your correct answers to a polite nod and moving on. You weren’t sure what exactly changed, or what you had done to spur this change, but it frustrated you. You fell behind a bit in lieu of this, defaulting to quickly skimming your textbook at your desk before class; a detail Cassie had certainly noticed and held onto. It seemed as though she took to calling on you unannounced more as she noticed you falling behind, putting you on the spot in front of the class and cruelly leaving you squabbling out a half-correct strung together answer. One day, after a particularly painfully bullshit answer, Cassie stops you on your way out of class, suggesting that you start reading the chapters before class in a chiding tone. You give her a silent nod, barely making eye contact, and continue your shameful walk to your next class.
You didn't know why she was treating you so harshly, much more than any other student, and sat boggled at the juxtaposition between her treatment now and how receptive she was just a few weeks earlier. Maybe you had annoyed her with your feigned neediness for her retellings of lectures, or maybe it had nothing to do with you, but you studied her interactions with other students, which remained as neutral as they had all year. You were perturbed, rightfully so, and wondered if she had somehow read your mind and discovered your bashful crush on her. It was crazy, and you brushed it off as so, but the rejection still stung.
What you didn’t know was that Cassie didn’t want to be mean to you at all, actually, and was scrambling to get ahead of the ever-growing crush that she was forming. She tried to cut your interactions short to limit the chances of any inappropriate compliments slipping out, turning to brevity and sternness to curb this. Cassie prided herself on her professionalism and didn’t want her infatuation with you to boil over and ruin her position at the university. It was a crush teetering on the edge of disaster, and she could barely contain herself in the quiet moments of class; during exams or written quizzes when she supervised her silent pupils and had ample time to stare at your features and drift into daydreams about fucking you over her desk, hand over your mouth to keep you quiet as her coworkers conducted classes in the surrounding lecture halls.
She had quite a few ideas for you, actually, all of which ended with her inside you, behind you, on top of you, or under you — Cassie wasn’t picky. She’d go home after lectures and bury her fingers inside herself thinking of you, how prettily you pouted at her after answering a question wrong or how your shirt slipped down when you bent over to pick up a pen off the ground, giving her a perfect view of the lacy bra under your shirt. It was enough to drive someone insane.
The weekend after midterms, your roommate dragged you along to a house party to celebrate being done with exams, which you reluctantly agreed to. Upon arrival, you down one too many shots and end up in the corner ranting to a girl you just met, who was equally as drunk and invested in your drama. You went on and on about Cassie, how good it felt when she would praise you, how dreamy-eyed she made you, and how frustrated you were by her cold shoulder. The girl listened and commented along, offering uninhibited advice when you got to the part about how coldly Dr. Mckay had been treating you.
“Why don’t you fuck with her a little bit? Nothing crazy, but enough to get under her skin. Just tease her to her face innocently enough that you can play it off if she gets upset. It’s only fair,” she suggested.
It was bolder than you were usually comfortable with, but the drinks went a long way in amplifying your confidence and you figured you didn’t have much to lose. If things went awry, you’d be out of her class in 8 weeks anyways. You could handle that.
So you did. You started small, dressing up a little more for class that following Tuesday. Your skirt was passable enough to be worn in public, albeit cautiously with tights underneath, but you knew how to play with Cassie. When class started, she greeted everyone and did her obligatory glance across the class, surveying attendance. Her eyes landed on you and you watched as she pressed her lips together and cocked her eyebrow a nearly imperceptible amount.
You kept your eyes on Cassie, not the projector screen or your notes, the whole lecture. You caught her line of sight occasionally, holding your piercing eye contact until she’d break it and continue scanning the sea of faces in front of her. When you caught her eyes again, you quietly uncrossed your legs, spreading them ever so slightly, and recrossed them on the opposite side as the hem of your skirt rose further up your thighs. You swore you heard her stutter briefly and watched the muscles in her jaw clench as she feigned ignorance of what she was seeing in front of her.
You held that same position until class wrapped up a few minutes later and took your time gathering your things as your peers filtered out of the classroom. Rummaging through your bag, you pulled out the paper your advisor had given you, needing a signature of approval from Dr. Mckay to indicate that you had fulfilled your elective requirement and could opt out of taking the final exam. It wasn’t anything immediately necessary, but you took it as an opportunity to speak to Cassie one-on-one anyways. Rising from your seat, not bothering to adjust your skirt down, you strode over to Cassie’s desk while she was busy flipping through papers, lost in thought.
“Hi, could you sign this for me please? It’s for my advisor,” you asked in your sweetest voice, holding out the paper for her. Cassie looked up, ever so slightly caught off guard by you, and gave you a short but polite smile and nodded.
“Sure,” she said, looking around her desk, presumably for a writing utensil. Your eyes dropped to her slender hands sliding across the length of her desk in search of a pen amongst the clutter, and instinctively you turned to look for one with her, spotting one sitting towards the edge of table that stood adjacent to her desk.
“Oh, here’s one,” you remarked, still turned away from her. Cassie looked up at you as you reached across the table, bent at the waist. The pen sat just barely out of reach, and it would have been much easier to simply walk around the table, but that wasn’t what you were here for. You reached even further, your skirt riding so far up that the lace garter of your tights peeked out from beneath. Cassie hissed out a “jesus christ” under her breath, yet couldn’t seem to look away from the scene in front of her. You knew Cassie had a full view of you from her position in her chair, but you turned around feigning innocence and smiling sweetly, handing her the pen as if she hadn't just seen parts of you that had been swimming around her imagination for weeks.
Cassie’s lips pressed together as she accepted the pen from you and dutifully signed the paper, avoiding eye contact as she handed it back over to you. You cooed out a “thank you!” and sauntered out of the classroom, extremely pleased with yourself for the reaction you had gotten out of her.
You continued your behavior throughout the next few classes, teasing Cassie from across the room and walking out at the end of class wordlessly like you had done nothing. It was driving her insane, but you were only privy to an inkling of the effect you were having on her.
After class, Cassie would hurriedly lock the door to her office, slipping a hand down into her waistband and rubbing circles around her swollen bud, cumming nearly instantly from all her pent up frustration throughout class. She was a mess over you, quickly unraveling, and unsure of how much longer she could restrain herself from taking what she so badly wanted.
Today was no different. You walked into class wearing another tiny skirt and a skin-tight tank top, the lace hem of your bra peeking up around the edges. You watched Cassie from your front row spot as usual, holding your pen but taking no notes whatsoever. When you knew she was watching, you clumsily drop your pen to the ground and take your time bending over to get it. While bent over, you look up and lock eyes with a very sternly-focused Cassie, smirking slightly at her. Sitting up, you return to normal posture and sit back in your seat with your elbow on the desk, loosely holding the pen and letting the tip of it graze along your collarbones as you continue to watch Dr. Mckay lecture on.
The lecture concluded and students filed out as normal, with you about to do the same, when you heard your name. Confused, you look towards the source and see Cassie basically glaring at you.
“Can you come here, please,” she chided, sending a shiver of fear through you. You had never seen Cassie look so grim, much less sound angry, and you knew something was wrong. You tentatively padded your way to her desk as the final few students trickled out.
“Shut the door, please,” she said sharply, which you silently obeyed, and returned to stand by her desk.
Cassie stood from her chair, eyes locked on you, your lips parting as you watched her move towards you.
“Did I do something?” you ask coyly, looking up at her through heavy eyes, still refusing to drop the act.
Cassie’s hand roughly snaked its way up the back of your neck, grabbing a fistful of hair and yanking your head back, completely at her mercy.
“You need to learn how to fucking behave,” she spat, her tone dark and laced with hunger.
Your jaw went slack, pupils blown, a soft moan escaping your throat.
“You’re such a fucking brat. You think I don’t know what you’ve been doing?” Cassie continued, hand still tightly gripping your hair. She yanked you towards her, her lips finding your ear, “You’re fucking pathetic, begging for my attention. What are we gonna do about that?”
Cassie walked you back until your hips hit the table behind you, her hand releasing its grip on your hair to drift down your jawline and rest loosely around your neck. She leans down, lips meeting yours in a hurried rush of passion, losing all restraint she had previously maintained. Her tongue twirls around yours as her hands roam your body, slipping under your shirt and dragging it up over your head. Her fingers quickly find the clip of your bra and unfastened it, leaving you completely bare in front of her.
Her tongue slides down your jaw, to your neck, then lower, occasionally nipping softly at your collarbones and the soft skin of your chest. She kissed her way all the way down your stomach before rising to her feet again, strong hands cupping your waist, and spun you around to pin you between her and table. One hand remained on your hips, roughly pressing you into the edge of the hard wood, while the other landed between your shoulder blades, commanding you down onto the table. You felt her push your skirt up over your hips and heard her let out a soft groan when she saw the black lacy panties you had on underneath.
“All this for me?” she purred, hand running up the back of your thigh, landing on the wet heat between your legs.
You nod softly, barely getting out an “mhhmm,” before Cassie pushed aside your panties and ran a finger through your wetness.
“So, so needy for me,” she breathed, slowly pushing in two fingers and curling them inside you. She continued, gradually picking up pace until you were a panting mess below her, barely able to string together coherent words.
“Mhnnfgod Cass, fuck,” you murmurred, eyes rolling back.
Cassie picks up speed, fisting your hair to give herself more leverage as she drives into you over and over again. All that escapes your mouth are broken whines and gasping breaths as she fucks you into the table and whispers cruel praise into your ear, lost in pleasure.
“Fuck Cass, oh my god, I cant,” you sob, being met with a laugh from behind you as her pace impossibly quickens and she tightens her grip in your hair.
“What? I thought this is what you wanted, baby?” she taunts, eliciting another string of half-broken profanities from you while you try to bite back a wail.
You feel yourself getting closer and closer, the table supporting your weight as your knees shake and buckle below. Cassie slips her hand out of your hair and down to your clit, rubbing delicate circles and pushing you over the edge. Shaking, you drench her hand and let out a hard, panting breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Cassie continues thrusting into you, fucking you through your orgasm until she’s content with the babbling mess she’s made of you.
Regaining your posture, you turn around to face her, eyes still lust-blown and cheeks flushed, watching as she brings her hand to her mouth and licks your arousal off of her fingers. You stare, speechless, and Cassie looks back at you smugly, knowing you were already all hers.
“You look so pretty when you fall apart for me,” she croons, and your legs nearly buckle again.
“All for you, Cass,” you purr, still spent, and make a mental note to say thank you to the girl at the party. You owed her many, many drinks for encouraging you to this point, after all.
Cassie leans down, picking up your underwear that had been discarded at some point, which you were unaware of in all of your bliss, and you let out a half-hearted chuckle, but she doesn’t hand them back to you.
You look quizzically at her, head tilted, and you watch as she slips them into her pocket.
“A souvenir,” she says, smirking, and you blush under her gaze, swooning again.
“You’re gonna have a wet patch soak through if you aren't careful,” you jokingly motion to her pants pocket.
“Fine by me,” Cassie remarks, kissing off the last traces of you on her pointer finger and running a loving hand through your hair where she had ruffled it, before leaning in for another kiss.
———————————————————————————————
𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑
𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑡𝑤𝑜.
part one is here.
synopsis : you and cassie know it’s wrong — not only the twenty year age gap, but the fact you’re both in relationships. what was supposed to be a casual affair, now turns into something with the stakes higher and problems more troubling.
wc : 10.3k | playlist.
tags : adult language. age gap (24 & 43). excessive mentions and acts of infidelity, unhealthy relationships / dynamics, reader has lots of guilt, aubrey and cassie nearly get into it. strong adult content; mat pressing, oral (r! receiving, c! receiving), f!ngering, overstim, it's done in the car lol, 50/50 of praise & degradation, strap usage + cassie thinking her strap is rlly attached to her.
author’s note : hi im sorry this is so late, life was really testing me !! anyways, here’s the final part <3 i also don’t condone cheating whatsoever
my older coworker who works back of house lifted an entire box of produce for me and when i said thank you she said “wouldn’t want the pretty front of house girl to get her hands dirty” and smiled and i’ve been riding that high since yesterday okay send tweet
writing smut becs kms is frowned upon xx
HELLOOOOOO ARE WE SEEING THIS!!! IM SICK THIS IS SO CUNT also ginger mckay is back we are so up ok send tweet
Lunate Bone (soft mcvadi one-shot)
Also on AO3
Cassie had gotten good at leaving parties. She could sense when things were about to get rowdy; she knew when she could slip out unnoticed. It was how she made sure that good times didn't turn into lapses in good judgment.
Shoulders hunched just so, hands shoved into the pockets of her hoodie, she slouched past the smokers huddled around the side door. She'd parked a few blocks away, but the night was warm. Moths fluttered in the pools of light flung out by streetlights.
not now kitten. daddy only planned the first half of his wip, and now he has to figure out what the fuck to do for the other half.
i need your nastiest filthiest darkest mckay headcannons/prompts in my inbox asap and i’ll do a few lil one shots/drabbles tn <3
i hate seeing other people (jennifer tilly) live my dream
hear me out…
been hooked on pitt au fics lately😽
the pitt x serial killer!au reader insert
cassie mckay/f!reader Hannibal au
cassie mckay/f!reader professor/student au