🫀 Avery; 21, fanfic writer, smut enjoyer, unlabeled freak (she/her/hers) -> in depth about me section here!
currently loving: THE PITT!! Pope Cody, protein bars, old Rihanna, Jack Abbot, Baran Al-Hashimi, my moving Frutiger aero fish tank, Sinners, The Apartment (1960), Yecnalc, making Spotify playlists, and Louis Armstrong
important notes: some of these one-shots/fanfics/blurbs/what have you that are written about certain characters may contain NSFW content, those are strictly 18+ !! Feel free to read literally ANYTHING ELSE on here. Literally open to chatting with anyone about their favorite characters from The Pitt or really any character (but mostly The Pitt).
🎧 currently listening to....KATTDO 🪩💋!!
MASTERLIST !!
(Also this was heavily heavily heavily heavily inspired by @magicmaekar so please go follow them!!)
Hello! I read Close to Me and really liked it! You did such a good job at capturing Mel’s character (I’m a little jealous lol) so I have a request for you. Mel and reader are both doctors and at work Mel and reader are talking about movies and reader says they never watched back to the future (or any movie of your choosing!) and Mel is shocked because she thinks it’s one of the best sci-fi movies of its time so she invites r over after work to watch it. They’re up late watching it and R asks if she can stay the night instead of riding the train so late. Mel says yes which leads to one bed trope and reader is a clingy and touchy sleeper, and Mel being such a light sleeper makes her wake up and any touch reader gives her in her sleep. Sorry it got so long and if it doesn’t interest you I totally understand! ❤️
Vanilla Baby
Mel King x reader
Summary: Mel invites you over to watch one of her favorite movies after she learns you've never seen it. At the end of the night, you're too uncomfortable about the thought of taking a train home alone, so you ask to stay over, which leads to some absentminded cuddling
Word count: 3.4k
Warnings: No warnings
🎵- Vanilla Baby
“I don’t know, I’m just…not that into movies.” You shrugged, looking at Mel, who was in utter disbelief.
“How can you not be into movies?! It’s the best pastime!”
Honestly, it’s not like you were totally against movies altogether. You enjoyed your fill here and there; you watched your favorite movies whenever you had time, but you were never one to venture outside your comfort zone, that’s for sure.
“Don’t know,” you sigh. “Sci-fi just isn’t my thing. I’ve never found science particularly intriguing.”
Mel is looking at you as though you’ve just shot her. “But…we’re doctors. Medicine and science go together. What about the movie Back to the Future? I mean you like that one, right? Everyone likes it!”
Your lips pull into a flat line. “I hate to break it to you, Mel, but I’ve never seen it.”
Mel stared at you as you had just confessed to never learning how to wash your hands. “You’ve never watched Back to the Future? Why?!”
You shrugged again, a smile on your lips. “Never had the time.”
She gave you a skeptical look. “That can’t be true; we get off at the same time! Oh, hey! Why don’t you come over and we can watch it together!” She seems so giddy, and you would never want to turn her down. It was truly the cutest sight to watch her be so excited about the prospect of having a movie night with you.
You really didn’t have anything else going on that night, like most nights. It would get you out of the house, and you’d be able to spend time with one of your favorite coworkers outside of the medical center. So, you found yourself agreeing to the hang out.
“Yeah, why not?” You asked, smiling. And if you thought her smile couldn’t get any wider, you were horribly mistaken, as now it takes up half her face.
“Really?” She asks, her hands wanting to flap, but she’s holding back until the end of the conversation, it seems.
“Yes, really, Mel. I would love to come over tonight.” You say to her in all honesty, and she’s practically jumping up and down now.
“Yay! Okay, um…come by at around 8? Please don’t be late; I really don’t like when people are late.”
“Got it, I won’t be late.” You give her an affirming nod and leave her gleaming at Dana’s desk.
————
You wouldn’t say you were particularly scared, walking up the steps to her apartment door. But you were most certainly nervous. You gripped the neck of the wine bottle in your hand. Truthfully, you didn’t know if Mel liked wine, but you always knew it was in good faith to bring a housewarming gift.
You didn’t know what she really liked, to be entirely honest. You knew the basic stuff, but the two of you had never had deep enough conversations to really ‘get to know’ one another. Which is a fumble in your eyes because you like her a lot. You’ve always thought she was cute, especially when it’s hot out, and the emergency room is colder, and she walks in from outside, and her glasses fog up.
Or when she’s really excited about something and can’t contain it, she’ll jump and flap her hands. It’s like she’s expressing everything other people can’t or won’t. And she’s so compassionate it’s crazy. And you can’t even get started on how she is with kids. If you didn’t know she was a doctor, you swear she would be a teacher.
Looking down at the bottle now, you felt stupid. There was a cinnamon stick and a slice of dried orange wrapped with it. “You don’t even know if she’ll like it; this was so stupid.” You murmured under your breath before gathering all the courage you had in you and knocking on the door. If worse comes to worst and she doesn’t like wine, she can keep it somewhere and throw it out later. You wouldn’t care that much.
You raised your fist to knock a second time, but the door is flung open, and Mel is standing there in her pj’s; her hair is down, past her shoulders, and fanned out around her. Her glasses are pushed up on her nose, and she’s wearing the same smile you left her with earlier today.
“Hi! Come in! I have everything set up: pillows, snacks, blankets. The movie is already loaded, so all I have to do is hit play. Come on!” She waves you inside, and you’re quick to follow.
You’re gripping the bottle of wine so hard you believe it might break. “Sounds good. You really know how to throw a movie watch-party.” You joke, looking around the apartment.
It’s cute inside. The only lighting is warm lamps or string lights; no overbearing white ceiling lights are flipped on. There are nice big, heavy blankets on the couch and chairs that sit around the living room area. The kitchen is nice and clean; everything has a label and has its own place.
“This is really nice.” You remark, glancing around each space.
“Thank you! It took a lot to put together, but Becca helped. She picked out the lights and lamps.” Mel pointed them out, and you looked at each one. “Is that for me?” She then asked, and you remembered you were still holding the bottle of wine.
“Oh, yes! Sorry, I didn’t know if you like wine or not, but…I was always taught to never show up at a house empty-handed.” You extended the bottle out to her.
She accepts it without saying anything. “I won’t drink any tonight, but you can feel free to.” She grants you before grabbing bowls off the kitchen counter.
“Do you want some help?” You ask.
“Oh, that would be great, thank you! You can take… this one,” she hands you a green bowl filled with Starbursts, “and this one.” She hands you a red bowl filled with Hershey Milk Chocolate, all individually wrapped.
“Anything else?”
“I don’t think so, except you can put those on the side table right there.” She brings each bowl over to the coffee table, and you, of course, follow her. You put the two of yours down on the wooden end table. “I didn’t know what you liked for candy, so I guessed. I’m sorry if you don’t like the options.”
“Mel, they’re fine; you’re underselling yourself here!” You say, standing in the living room quite awkwardly, unsure of where to sit or go.
“Oh right! You can set your things here, and um…you can take any spot, really. It doesn’t matter to me.” She gives you such a genuine smile that you almost melt. It makes you smile back as you decide to take one of the corner spots on the couch. She takes the other side, handing you a blanket. “If you need any water or something like that, just let me know.”
“Yeah, of course. I’m gonna be honest, though, I have no idea what this movie is about. I know they go back in time or something, but other than that, that’s all I know.”
“I still can’t believe you’ve never watched this movie. It’s literally the best movie ever.” She’s so giddy it lightens your exhausted mood a little.
“Yeah, but now I get to hang out with you, so it all worked out.” You smile at her before settling deeper into the couch as the movie begins.
———
Mel was beside you now, still somehow wide awake as the movie reached the end. It was pitch black outside, and your eyes were struggling to stay open.
“Hey, this is a lot to ask,” you started, and she swung her head to look at you. “But could I stay the night?”
“Oh, of course! Is it too dark out for you, or is it because of the train?” She stands from the couch, turning off the TV and starting to clean up. By instinct, you do the same.
“Um, I’m a little skeptical about catching a train this late. I’d feel better if I slept here.”
“Of course you can stay here. I have breakfast bars for the morning! Y-you don’t need any medications, right? Or?”
“No, I took some with me tonight just in case.” You shrug, rubbing at your eyes to try and give them some energy to stay open for more than five seconds.
“Okay, okay, that’s good to hear. Do…do you need pajamas or anything like that? I can loan you some of mine, or maybe a t-shirt?”
“I have some.” You tell her, pointing to your back that’s still sitting near the hallway.
“Oh good! Y’know, I don’t think you would’ve liked my pj’s anyway. All I wear are matching sets.”
You give a little smile. “That’s cute.”
“Th-thank you.” She says before looking towards the living room couch again. “Oh, so…I only have the couch to sleep on and then my bed. And I wouldn’t recommend the couch; it’s really uncomfortable.”
“Oh, right. I didn’t think about the sleeping situation.”
“Don’t apologize! We can figure something out for sure.” She shakes her head, but she looks so concerned. “Do…would you want to sleep in my bed, or is that something that would be uncomfortable for you…? I do have an air mattress; we can blow that up or something.”
“Sharing your bed is fine. I’ll just put a few pillows between us.” You joke, but you forgot that sometimes Mel doesn’t pick up on sarcasm or joking tones. “That was a joke; I don’t mean that, really.”
“Good, because I don’t think I have enough pillows to make a wall.” She jerks her head in the direction of her bedroom, and you pick up your bag. “So, I like to have a few candles going sometimes; it helps me relax. And then I have a Scentsy thing on top of my dresser. Just thought I’d let you know encase your sensitive to smells.”
“Not sensitive.” You affirm, shaking your head. She opens the door, and it creaks slightly. But you’re eager to see what Mel’s most intimate space looks like.
It’s a very welcoming space when you do see it. The bed is up against the center wall, with a window above it that’s shining orange light from the lamps outside down onto the covers. The bed itself has a bed frame with small shelves built inside it. Little trinkets are sported on each shelf, and a small cat is lying on the mattress, audibly purring but lifts its head once the two of you step inside.
“That’s Captain Scurvy.” She points it out, and you laugh at the name.
“He’s very cute.” You remark. Your head twists to the shelves that are present in other areas of the bedroom. They’re tall, almost reaching the ceiling in height. And there are books of every color on every possible shelf. There are some crocheting items in a basket near the end of her bed, and the sheets are seemingly older in style, at least 80s/90s, with cherries and strawberries decorating the white background.
Pictures decorate her side table and walls, mostly of her, Dennis, Trinity, and Victoria. The Pittlings, as they’re called at work. You were sometimes included in their antics, but you mostly hung around the night shift group.
She has a few stuffies and pillows that sit on her bed. The ones that stand out are a Squishmallow of a Whale Shark, and then a Jellycat whale shark. You recognize both of them because they’re the same ones you have back home. She has an older-looking Gund Winnie the Pooh bear, and a Build-A-Bear you recognize from Victoria’s 22nd birthday when she made all of you- yes, all of you, Trinity, Dennis, you, and Mel- go to the local mall and each pick out a Build-A-Bear to make.
You chose a Green Frog with Animal Crossing pajamas; Mel chose a Bunny with cute little overalls; Dennis chose a Highland Cow with the horns, also with overalls; Trinity chose Chococat (she didn’t feel the need or the want to put clothes on her); and Victoria chose a cute little bumblebee with a small dress.
Now, Mel’s bunny sits looking at you, along with her other stuffed animals.
“Oh, that’s just, uh…” She’s obviously embarrassed that you caught her with stuffies on her bed as a 27-year-old, but you couldn’t care less. As you mentioned earlier, you had the same thing.
“Don’t worry, I have more stuffies than you do at home.” You grin, looking towards her so she won’t feel so self-conscious.
“Really?” She asks, almost stunned.
“Of course. Just because I’m a 27-year-old adult doesn’t mean I’m going to give up my love of stuffed animals. They’re supposed to be enjoyed by all; that’s what I think anyway.”
“Thank God, because at first I thought you were going to judge me for being weird.”
“Mel, I don’t think I would ever think you’re weird.” You swear you see her blush, or the start of her blushing, but she looks away before you can really catch it.
“So, the bathroom is across the hall, and I have extra toothbrushes if you need one; those are under the sink. I would prefer for you to grab one of the caps you can put on the toothbrush as well. You should know how much bacteria can latch onto toothbrushes in the bathroom.” She tells you, and you’re all for following along with her directions.
“No problem.” You respond.
“Alright, while you change, I’ll turn down the bed and get everything ready, okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, of course. I’ll leave you to it. You said it was across the hall, right?” You asked, pointing, and she nodded. You grabbed your bag and walked into the bathroom. Even the bathroom was cozy, which you didn’t even know could be possible.
You put on some simple clothes you brought that could pass for pj’s and grabbed a toothbrush from under the sink along with a matching toothbrush cover. You tried to make your breath as fresh as possible. It’s not like you didn’t brush your teeth on a daily basis, but if you were about to share a bed with your work crush, you wanted your breath to smell as good as possible.
You finish up and make sure everything is just as you left it, besides the toothbrush, obviously, before making your way back to the bedroom. You were incredibly nervous. Your hands were shaking, and even though you tried your hardest to make sure it wasn’t noticeable to Mel.
Your stomach felt as though it was in knots, and butterflies were growing, beating their wings against your belly. You needed to calm down. It was just a sleepover. You slipped inside the room, expecting Mel to already be asleep as it was now past 11 pm., but nope. There she was, eyes as wide as a baby’s.
“Aren’t you tired at all?” You decided to ask her questions so maybe the nerves would die down a little.
“A little. But I don’t need much sleep typically. This is just another day for me.”
“Oh.” You say, nodding like you completely understand, which you don’t. You need more than 8 hours to be able to function. So how she can do less than that, you’ll never know. But anyway, she’s lying there in her bed, top half propped up by an extra pillow. She’s made enough room for you, abandoning the stuffed animals to a nearby chair.
There is a small candle lit on her side of the table, and a book is propped up on her legs, with a reading light emanating.
“Do you seriously not need that much sleep? Tomorrow morning I just know I’m going to be horrendously tired.” You say to her, slipping under the covers. They’re so soft on your skin you want to ask her where she got these, but you second-guess it, feeling like it would be creepy.
“Seriously.” She nods, looking down at you for a moment to ask if you’re comfortable enough. Truthfully, you could die happily if this was the last bed you would ever sleep in. It was almost too comfortable, like a cloud. “I’m more than comfortable.” You replied, feeling your eyelids grow heavy with every inhale and exhale of air.
“You can go to sleep. I won’t be offended.” She dims the light of her book lamp.
“Are you sure? It’s not fun if I’m the one who falls asleep first. You’re never supposed to fall asleep at a sleepover.”
“I got drawn on at a sleepover once.” Mel remarks, and you open an eye.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.” Her mouth folds into a straight line. “But I drew accurate penis’s on them back, so it all worked out.”
You laugh, looking at her. “Are you joking?”
“No, I’m being serious.”
“That’s awesome.” You smile, snuggling further into the mattress. “You’re so awesome,” and it’s after that that you finally fall asleep. Mel soon puts her book down, growing tired as the night goes on. She blows out the candle and sets her glasses down gently beside it. She had gotten up earlier to brush her teeth, using the kitchen sink instead.
So she was all situated. As were you. She listened to your breathing, calm and steady, before moving down the bed under the covers. She fixed her pillow, making sure not to disturb you in the process.
Except, you did begin to move. You began to snuggle up close to her, and Mel froze, not knowing what to do. “Oh, um,” she said quietly, thinking you were awake, but a soft snore quickly put that notion to bed. “No, that’s fine. That- yeah, that’s completely fine.” She says more to herself than to you.
She’s tired though, and it’s honestly nice to have some physical touch. She’s rarely had physical touch. Except Langdon. You’re really the only other person she would ever allow to touch her. However, she still doesn’t know what to do right now, so she falls asleep with her hands behind her head.
But a few moments later, you’re moving against her, and she’s waking up, making sure you’re okay. She watches as your right arm moves to wrap around her middle, and you deeply sigh against her chest. It makes a small smile appear on her lips, her eyes drifting shut again.
Then, a few moments later, she wakes, the two of you now facing one another. You’re in a deep sleep, your features relaxed. One of your arms holds you close to Mel, the other is right up against your chest, hand under your cheek. She glances down at your mouth, which is slightly parted, allowing for soft snores to flow freely.
Mel gently fixes her arm, hanging it around your side and up your back, making slow, soft lines with her fingernails, soothing you into deeper sleep. She tries to keep a small distance between the two of you, very small, but it’s hard when you look that relaxed sleeping. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen you look any more peaceful than how you do right now.
You’re always worried about something, as many doctors are. But while Mel has seen how carefree Trinity or Dennis or Victoria are after they get off shift- hell, how carefree anyone at the Pitt looks when getting off their shift for the day- you always look concerned about one thing or another. And she just wishes she could help whenever she spots that familiar look creeping over your face.
She’ll be stuck to you like glue for the rest of time, she believes. You could wake her up one thousand times more after this, and she still wouldn’t pull away from you. She doesn’t know if it’s because you’re particularly tired or what. Are you always like this? Clingy and touchy? Not that she’ll say anything. She likes it a little too much, to be utterly truthful.
Maybe the two of you could become an item. She’s always liked you; it had developed into something much more recently. She would probably never know if you feel the same, but she can sure dream. It’s in that moment that the two of you are facing each other, legs entangled under the sheets; she closes her eyes for the third time that night, finally falling asleep with you beside her, holding her to you like you don’t want anyone to take her away.
that last clip and she’s checking you out. imagining your figure under your scrubs oh my
“so he didn’t even pay?”
“she.”
“ohhh.”
oh.
“yeah, it just wasn’t a very good date, but it could’ve been first date nerves. we might click if we go out again…”
blah blah blah i need to see her gorgeous body. her curves. her tummy. i need to put my hands on her ass and grip her tits. god, i need to fucking worship this woman. i—
“cassie? should i go on another date?”
“hm? oh, uh…”
“i think she should’ve paid for you or at the very least talked about splitting the bill. i mean that’s what i would do.”
“my opinion? don’t waste your time.”
“but what if i’m single for the rest of my life? maybe i should just give up. i’ve been single for a while, maybe i’m a lost cause.”
“what? don’t say that, sweetheart.”
“it’s true! i’m going to have to make peace with the fact that i could be alone. i mean… this may be tmi, but cassie, i haven’t even gotten laid in two years.”
“do you want to change that?”
“i uh…”
“oh, god i’m kidding!”
“ohhhh! ha!”
“unless you’re not.”
“you would want to go out with me? me?”
“why wouldn’t i?”
“and you’re saying you… you want to sleep with me?”
“that’s one way of putting it.”
“oh, o-okay, yeah.”
“yeah?”
“oh my god, stop laughing, cass!”
“sorry! so… do you want to go out after our shift’s over, pretty girl?”
Hello! I read Close to Me and really liked it! You did such a good job at capturing Mel’s character (I’m a little jealous lol) so I have a request for you. Mel and reader are both doctors and at work Mel and reader are talking about movies and reader says they never watched back to the future (or any movie of your choosing!) and Mel is shocked because she thinks it’s one of the best sci-fi movies of its time so she invites r over after work to watch it. They’re up late watching it and R asks if she can stay the night instead of riding the train so late. Mel says yes which leads to one bed trope and reader is a clingy and touchy sleeper, and Mel being such a light sleeper makes her wake up and any touch reader gives her in her sleep. Sorry it got so long and if it doesn’t interest you I totally understand! ❤️
Vanilla Baby
Mel King x reader
Summary: Mel invites you over to watch one of her favorite movies after she learns you've never seen it. At the end of the night, you're too uncomfortable about the thought of taking a train home alone, so you ask to stay over, which leads to some absentminded cuddling
Word count: 3.4k
Warnings: No warnings
🎵- Vanilla Baby
“I don’t know, I’m just…not that into movies.” You shrugged, looking at Mel, who was in utter disbelief.
“How can you not be into movies?! It’s the best pastime!”
Honestly, it’s not like you were totally against movies altogether. You enjoyed your fill here and there; you watched your favorite movies whenever you had time, but you were never one to venture outside your comfort zone, that’s for sure.
“Don’t know,” you sigh. “Sci-fi just isn’t my thing. I’ve never found science particularly intriguing.”
Mel is looking at you as though you’ve just shot her. “But…we’re doctors. Medicine and science go together. What about the movie Back to the Future? I mean you like that one, right? Everyone likes it!”
Your lips pull into a flat line. “I hate to break it to you, Mel, but I’ve never seen it.”
Mel stared at you as you had just confessed to never learning how to wash your hands. “You’ve never watched Back to the Future? Why?!”
You shrugged again, a smile on your lips. “Never had the time.”
She gave you a skeptical look. “That can’t be true; we get off at the same time! Oh, hey! Why don’t you come over and we can watch it together!” She seems so giddy, and you would never want to turn her down. It was truly the cutest sight to watch her be so excited about the prospect of having a movie night with you.
You really didn’t have anything else going on that night, like most nights. It would get you out of the house, and you’d be able to spend time with one of your favorite coworkers outside of the medical center. So, you found yourself agreeing to the hang out.
“Yeah, why not?” You asked, smiling. And if you thought her smile couldn’t get any wider, you were horribly mistaken, as now it takes up half her face.
“Really?” She asks, her hands wanting to flap, but she’s holding back until the end of the conversation, it seems.
“Yes, really, Mel. I would love to come over tonight.” You say to her in all honesty, and she’s practically jumping up and down now.
“Yay! Okay, um…come by at around 8? Please don’t be late; I really don’t like when people are late.”
“Got it, I won’t be late.” You give her an affirming nod and leave her gleaming at Dana’s desk.
————
You wouldn’t say you were particularly scared, walking up the steps to her apartment door. But you were most certainly nervous. You gripped the neck of the wine bottle in your hand. Truthfully, you didn’t know if Mel liked wine, but you always knew it was in good faith to bring a housewarming gift.
You didn’t know what she really liked, to be entirely honest. You knew the basic stuff, but the two of you had never had deep enough conversations to really ‘get to know’ one another. Which is a fumble in your eyes because you like her a lot. You’ve always thought she was cute, especially when it’s hot out, and the emergency room is colder, and she walks in from outside, and her glasses fog up.
Or when she’s really excited about something and can’t contain it, she’ll jump and flap her hands. It’s like she’s expressing everything other people can’t or won’t. And she’s so compassionate it’s crazy. And you can’t even get started on how she is with kids. If you didn’t know she was a doctor, you swear she would be a teacher.
Looking down at the bottle now, you felt stupid. There was a cinnamon stick and a slice of dried orange wrapped with it. “You don’t even know if she’ll like it; this was so stupid.” You murmured under your breath before gathering all the courage you had in you and knocking on the door. If worse comes to worst and she doesn’t like wine, she can keep it somewhere and throw it out later. You wouldn’t care that much.
You raised your fist to knock a second time, but the door is flung open, and Mel is standing there in her pj’s; her hair is down, past her shoulders, and fanned out around her. Her glasses are pushed up on her nose, and she’s wearing the same smile you left her with earlier today.
“Hi! Come in! I have everything set up: pillows, snacks, blankets. The movie is already loaded, so all I have to do is hit play. Come on!” She waves you inside, and you’re quick to follow.
You’re gripping the bottle of wine so hard you believe it might break. “Sounds good. You really know how to throw a movie watch-party.” You joke, looking around the apartment.
It’s cute inside. The only lighting is warm lamps or string lights; no overbearing white ceiling lights are flipped on. There are nice big, heavy blankets on the couch and chairs that sit around the living room area. The kitchen is nice and clean; everything has a label and has its own place.
“This is really nice.” You remark, glancing around each space.
“Thank you! It took a lot to put together, but Becca helped. She picked out the lights and lamps.” Mel pointed them out, and you looked at each one. “Is that for me?” She then asked, and you remembered you were still holding the bottle of wine.
“Oh, yes! Sorry, I didn’t know if you like wine or not, but…I was always taught to never show up at a house empty-handed.” You extended the bottle out to her.
She accepts it without saying anything. “I won’t drink any tonight, but you can feel free to.” She grants you before grabbing bowls off the kitchen counter.
“Do you want some help?” You ask.
“Oh, that would be great, thank you! You can take… this one,” she hands you a green bowl filled with Starbursts, “and this one.” She hands you a red bowl filled with Hershey Milk Chocolate, all individually wrapped.
“Anything else?”
“I don’t think so, except you can put those on the side table right there.” She brings each bowl over to the coffee table, and you, of course, follow her. You put the two of yours down on the wooden end table. “I didn’t know what you liked for candy, so I guessed. I’m sorry if you don’t like the options.”
“Mel, they’re fine; you’re underselling yourself here!” You say, standing in the living room quite awkwardly, unsure of where to sit or go.
“Oh right! You can set your things here, and um…you can take any spot, really. It doesn’t matter to me.” She gives you such a genuine smile that you almost melt. It makes you smile back as you decide to take one of the corner spots on the couch. She takes the other side, handing you a blanket. “If you need any water or something like that, just let me know.”
“Yeah, of course. I’m gonna be honest, though, I have no idea what this movie is about. I know they go back in time or something, but other than that, that’s all I know.”
“I still can’t believe you’ve never watched this movie. It’s literally the best movie ever.” She’s so giddy it lightens your exhausted mood a little.
“Yeah, but now I get to hang out with you, so it all worked out.” You smile at her before settling deeper into the couch as the movie begins.
———
Mel was beside you now, still somehow wide awake as the movie reached the end. It was pitch black outside, and your eyes were struggling to stay open.
“Hey, this is a lot to ask,” you started, and she swung her head to look at you. “But could I stay the night?”
“Oh, of course! Is it too dark out for you, or is it because of the train?” She stands from the couch, turning off the TV and starting to clean up. By instinct, you do the same.
“Um, I’m a little skeptical about catching a train this late. I’d feel better if I slept here.”
“Of course you can stay here. I have breakfast bars for the morning! Y-you don’t need any medications, right? Or?”
“No, I took some with me tonight just in case.” You shrug, rubbing at your eyes to try and give them some energy to stay open for more than five seconds.
“Okay, okay, that’s good to hear. Do…do you need pajamas or anything like that? I can loan you some of mine, or maybe a t-shirt?”
“I have some.” You tell her, pointing to your back that’s still sitting near the hallway.
“Oh good! Y’know, I don’t think you would’ve liked my pj’s anyway. All I wear are matching sets.”
You give a little smile. “That’s cute.”
“Th-thank you.” She says before looking towards the living room couch again. “Oh, so…I only have the couch to sleep on and then my bed. And I wouldn’t recommend the couch; it’s really uncomfortable.”
“Oh, right. I didn’t think about the sleeping situation.”
“Don’t apologize! We can figure something out for sure.” She shakes her head, but she looks so concerned. “Do…would you want to sleep in my bed, or is that something that would be uncomfortable for you…? I do have an air mattress; we can blow that up or something.”
“Sharing your bed is fine. I’ll just put a few pillows between us.” You joke, but you forgot that sometimes Mel doesn’t pick up on sarcasm or joking tones. “That was a joke; I don’t mean that, really.”
“Good, because I don’t think I have enough pillows to make a wall.” She jerks her head in the direction of her bedroom, and you pick up your bag. “So, I like to have a few candles going sometimes; it helps me relax. And then I have a Scentsy thing on top of my dresser. Just thought I’d let you know encase your sensitive to smells.”
“Not sensitive.” You affirm, shaking your head. She opens the door, and it creaks slightly. But you’re eager to see what Mel’s most intimate space looks like.
It’s a very welcoming space when you do see it. The bed is up against the center wall, with a window above it that’s shining orange light from the lamps outside down onto the covers. The bed itself has a bed frame with small shelves built inside it. Little trinkets are sported on each shelf, and a small cat is lying on the mattress, audibly purring but lifts its head once the two of you step inside.
“That’s Captain Scurvy.” She points it out, and you laugh at the name.
“He’s very cute.” You remark. Your head twists to the shelves that are present in other areas of the bedroom. They’re tall, almost reaching the ceiling in height. And there are books of every color on every possible shelf. There are some crocheting items in a basket near the end of her bed, and the sheets are seemingly older in style, at least 80s/90s, with cherries and strawberries decorating the white background.
Pictures decorate her side table and walls, mostly of her, Dennis, Trinity, and Victoria. The Pittlings, as they’re called at work. You were sometimes included in their antics, but you mostly hung around the night shift group.
She has a few stuffies and pillows that sit on her bed. The ones that stand out are a Squishmallow of a Whale Shark, and then a Jellycat whale shark. You recognize both of them because they’re the same ones you have back home. She has an older-looking Gund Winnie the Pooh bear, and a Build-A-Bear you recognize from Victoria’s 22nd birthday when she made all of you- yes, all of you, Trinity, Dennis, you, and Mel- go to the local mall and each pick out a Build-A-Bear to make.
You chose a Green Frog with Animal Crossing pajamas; Mel chose a Bunny with cute little overalls; Dennis chose a Highland Cow with the horns, also with overalls; Trinity chose Chococat (she didn’t feel the need or the want to put clothes on her); and Victoria chose a cute little bumblebee with a small dress.
Now, Mel’s bunny sits looking at you, along with her other stuffed animals.
“Oh, that’s just, uh…” She’s obviously embarrassed that you caught her with stuffies on her bed as a 27-year-old, but you couldn’t care less. As you mentioned earlier, you had the same thing.
“Don’t worry, I have more stuffies than you do at home.” You grin, looking towards her so she won’t feel so self-conscious.
“Really?” She asks, almost stunned.
“Of course. Just because I’m a 27-year-old adult doesn’t mean I’m going to give up my love of stuffed animals. They’re supposed to be enjoyed by all; that’s what I think anyway.”
“Thank God, because at first I thought you were going to judge me for being weird.”
“Mel, I don’t think I would ever think you’re weird.” You swear you see her blush, or the start of her blushing, but she looks away before you can really catch it.
“So, the bathroom is across the hall, and I have extra toothbrushes if you need one; those are under the sink. I would prefer for you to grab one of the caps you can put on the toothbrush as well. You should know how much bacteria can latch onto toothbrushes in the bathroom.” She tells you, and you’re all for following along with her directions.
“No problem.” You respond.
“Alright, while you change, I’ll turn down the bed and get everything ready, okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, of course. I’ll leave you to it. You said it was across the hall, right?” You asked, pointing, and she nodded. You grabbed your bag and walked into the bathroom. Even the bathroom was cozy, which you didn’t even know could be possible.
You put on some simple clothes you brought that could pass for pj’s and grabbed a toothbrush from under the sink along with a matching toothbrush cover. You tried to make your breath as fresh as possible. It’s not like you didn’t brush your teeth on a daily basis, but if you were about to share a bed with your work crush, you wanted your breath to smell as good as possible.
You finish up and make sure everything is just as you left it, besides the toothbrush, obviously, before making your way back to the bedroom. You were incredibly nervous. Your hands were shaking, and even though you tried your hardest to make sure it wasn’t noticeable to Mel.
Your stomach felt as though it was in knots, and butterflies were growing, beating their wings against your belly. You needed to calm down. It was just a sleepover. You slipped inside the room, expecting Mel to already be asleep as it was now past 11 pm., but nope. There she was, eyes as wide as a baby’s.
“Aren’t you tired at all?” You decided to ask her questions so maybe the nerves would die down a little.
“A little. But I don’t need much sleep typically. This is just another day for me.”
“Oh.” You say, nodding like you completely understand, which you don’t. You need more than 8 hours to be able to function. So how she can do less than that, you’ll never know. But anyway, she’s lying there in her bed, top half propped up by an extra pillow. She’s made enough room for you, abandoning the stuffed animals to a nearby chair.
There is a small candle lit on her side of the table, and a book is propped up on her legs, with a reading light emanating.
“Do you seriously not need that much sleep? Tomorrow morning I just know I’m going to be horrendously tired.” You say to her, slipping under the covers. They’re so soft on your skin you want to ask her where she got these, but you second-guess it, feeling like it would be creepy.
“Seriously.” She nods, looking down at you for a moment to ask if you’re comfortable enough. Truthfully, you could die happily if this was the last bed you would ever sleep in. It was almost too comfortable, like a cloud. “I’m more than comfortable.” You replied, feeling your eyelids grow heavy with every inhale and exhale of air.
“You can go to sleep. I won’t be offended.” She dims the light of her book lamp.
“Are you sure? It’s not fun if I’m the one who falls asleep first. You’re never supposed to fall asleep at a sleepover.”
“I got drawn on at a sleepover once.” Mel remarks, and you open an eye.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.” Her mouth folds into a straight line. “But I drew accurate penis’s on them back, so it all worked out.”
You laugh, looking at her. “Are you joking?”
“No, I’m being serious.”
“That’s awesome.” You smile, snuggling further into the mattress. “You’re so awesome,” and it’s after that that you finally fall asleep. Mel soon puts her book down, growing tired as the night goes on. She blows out the candle and sets her glasses down gently beside it. She had gotten up earlier to brush her teeth, using the kitchen sink instead.
So she was all situated. As were you. She listened to your breathing, calm and steady, before moving down the bed under the covers. She fixed her pillow, making sure not to disturb you in the process.
Except, you did begin to move. You began to snuggle up close to her, and Mel froze, not knowing what to do. “Oh, um,” she said quietly, thinking you were awake, but a soft snore quickly put that notion to bed. “No, that’s fine. That- yeah, that’s completely fine.” She says more to herself than to you.
She’s tired though, and it’s honestly nice to have some physical touch. She’s rarely had physical touch. Except Langdon. You’re really the only other person she would ever allow to touch her. However, she still doesn’t know what to do right now, so she falls asleep with her hands behind her head.
But a few moments later, you’re moving against her, and she’s waking up, making sure you’re okay. She watches as your right arm moves to wrap around her middle, and you deeply sigh against her chest. It makes a small smile appear on her lips, her eyes drifting shut again.
Then, a few moments later, she wakes, the two of you now facing one another. You’re in a deep sleep, your features relaxed. One of your arms holds you close to Mel, the other is right up against your chest, hand under your cheek. She glances down at your mouth, which is slightly parted, allowing for soft snores to flow freely.
Mel gently fixes her arm, hanging it around your side and up your back, making slow, soft lines with her fingernails, soothing you into deeper sleep. She tries to keep a small distance between the two of you, very small, but it’s hard when you look that relaxed sleeping. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen you look any more peaceful than how you do right now.
You’re always worried about something, as many doctors are. But while Mel has seen how carefree Trinity or Dennis or Victoria are after they get off shift- hell, how carefree anyone at the Pitt looks when getting off their shift for the day- you always look concerned about one thing or another. And she just wishes she could help whenever she spots that familiar look creeping over your face.
She’ll be stuck to you like glue for the rest of time, she believes. You could wake her up one thousand times more after this, and she still wouldn’t pull away from you. She doesn’t know if it’s because you’re particularly tired or what. Are you always like this? Clingy and touchy? Not that she’ll say anything. She likes it a little too much, to be utterly truthful.
Maybe the two of you could become an item. She’s always liked you; it had developed into something much more recently. She would probably never know if you feel the same, but she can sure dream. It’s in that moment that the two of you are facing each other, legs entangled under the sheets; she closes her eyes for the third time that night, finally falling asleep with you beside her, holding her to you like you don’t want anyone to take her away.
Soo, umm, i was wondering, have you ever watch house of the dragon? And if you have, have you ever considered making a fanfic of Rheanyra? Take care :)) 🫶🏻✌️😼
I need help deciding on how to start this Mel King fanfiction that was part of an ask I got a little while ago, so do you guys want either...
Option 1: Mel King x reader slow-burn friends to lovers where it all takes place at reader's family camp up in Maine
Options 2: Mel King x reader slow-burn friends to lovers where it takes place at the Pitt, we see bets placed on reader and Mel like in the Cassie McKay fanfiction.....
I sort of want to also have a Cassie McKay fanfiction that will take place at a Maine camp sort of thing because I think that will be fun 😈 but I don't want it to resemble the Mel King fanfiction either, so I need help deciding!!
Mel King fanfiction...
Option 1
Option 2
Voting ended onJul 11
Y'all are getting the Cassie McKay fanfiction either way, because I think it's too much of a good an idea to pass up, but I want to know if we want two of a Maine camp-sort-of plotline, or if that would be too repetitive. The Cassie McKay fanfiction would be a fake-dating trope
https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSx4QAKBb/ omg i imagine cassie would do thisssss AAAAAA
Nails
Cassie x fem!reader
Summary: A short little drabble about how Cassie would indeed love to do things for you in order for you to not break/chip your nails
Word count: 523
Warnings: No warnings
“Don’t hurt your nails, don’t hurt your nails. I got it, I got it.” She tries to tell you as you play with the can tab some more. She leans her hand over and grabs the drink from you, quickly opening it, the bubbles fizzing as it pops. “Yeah, you would’ve hurt your nails. The carbonation was built up way too much.”
“Thank you, baby.” You say before taking a sip.
“You’re welcome. See? I know what I’m talking about.” She gloats with a smile, leaning back in her chair.
She’s always eager to do things like that so you don’t ruin the fresh new set you get each month. They usually last way longer this way than simply a few weeks. The nails you got this time were green with some swirls created with builder gel, Cassie’s favorite design.
Really, you could get any design you wanted, any color. Cassie just hands you her card, and you’re off. But you like to please her. As long as she’s paying, you’ll get her favorite color all over your body if it were allowed.
But you knew she would like them.
She doesn’t just do this with your drinks, open them for you. She’ll do it with the car door; she’ll do it with the button of your jeans; she’ll even do it with the front door of your shared apartment. She’s very protective of your nails, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it.
It made you feel good when she did things like that because none of your other partners had ever treated you as well as Cassie does.
“They’re so pretty; I don’t want you to ruin them.” Cassie compliments you, and it has your face heating up.
“Thank you, baby.” You murmur, lifting the now open can to your lips. The black polish you had painted on her fingers only weeks ago has been chipped away in some places.
“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” She replies.
To be honest, your nails last a little longer whenever she does those things for you. No chipping, no broken acrylics, none of that. It’s nice. She’ll look at the nails every time too, reciting how much she loves them, how pretty they are, how she likes the designs and the colors. Sometimes she tells you you should get a color in order to match some of your favorite outfits, too.
When the two of you are finished with your lunches, she picks everything up, throwing it out. She opens the car door for you, but lets you buckle your seat belt. You keep your hands in your lap as she starts the car, but she’s soon reaching for one of them.
“What?” You ask, knowing what she wants.
“Your hand, baby.” She holds open her palm, invitingly.
“Ugh, I guess.” You roll your eyes, a smile playing on your lips as you place your hand in hers.
She rubs her thumbs over the raised swirls of your nails and gives out a little hum. “I love these things.”
After reading ur mckay series, im curious about cassie’s POV of this thingssssss
I would honestly love to write a few chapters in her POV. I think that would be so fun to write!!! I actually might do that; this was such a good question....
hi not a request sorry but there was a cassie mckay x reader fic that i can’t find and im wondering if you can help please and thank you😭🙏 it was an established relationship and i remember cassie texting another girl and the reader told dana when she found out
Do you have any more information?? I would honestly try to use the 'Cassie McKay fanfiction' in the Tumblr search bar unless it was on AO3.....🫠 but I will keep looking!! It sounds like a really cool premise too now I wanna read it 🥲
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.
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 🤭
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.
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 🤭
Hiya!! I was reading your cassie x reader sickfic and I just wanted to say its a tad hard to read because of how its formatted, the actual fic is wonderful but for some reason lots of the words are broken up across lines (not sure if that makes sense so If you need and example lmk) so it interrupts the flow when reading
Its a great fic so I just wanted to let you know incase you didn't realise!!
All of it should be okay now!! I went through and put each chapter through a text corrector, so all the parts should be much more easy to read! It's something that's been happening with the platform I write with, they had changed the formating when copy and pasting to another site, which sucks and is so stupid in my eyes but whatever.
But yes! I had already had some back and forths with it before, especially on ao3, but everything should be on the right track now!!
Forgot to mention and the rest of my fics idk why I thought you were talking about Stupid, Stupid Idea my bad 😭
