me when im on "x reader tag" looking for fics at 3 am BUT all i find is memes and all the funny posts under the world EXCEPT the fics abt the character :
just to make my stance crystal clear: if you use ai to write fanfic i do believe you are a lesser writer in that you Aren't a writer at all. you're deeply uncreative and likely couldn't come up w your own opinion if there was a gun to your head. im sorry rubbing two of your braincells together to form a cohesive thought is difficult for you to manage but you need to figure it the fuck out if you want to write.
fanfic is supposed to be a fun hobby. it's free and fun and builds a lil community. it is a pillar of fandom !! i implore you to please, please, please just write it yourself !!! its so much more fun !!!!! you can make friends and spitball w each other in dms or texts or whatever !!!!!! ai is NOT fun !!!! it steals from actual writers, it has scraped fanfic and continues to do so, it's a plagirise-r, a thief, it BLOWS CHUNKS !!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WAIT HIII !!!! best believe i love your writing for the pitt like don’t play i drool everytime but anywho i was wondering if you would be willing to write for mel 😏
she’s my baby like i deadass don’t care what you come up with i’ll be happy anyway ! if not that’s TOTALLY FINE !! okay bye 💋
mel king had this way of disappearing while standing right in front of you.
not physically. she was there. technically.
but sometimes halfway through a conversation she’d just go quiet and drift somewhere else entirely, eyes fixed on nothing, fingers picking at the skin around her thumb until it bled. and everybody in the er treated it like normal because mel still did her job perfectly. she still answered questions. still stitched people up with steady hands. still caught mistakes before anyone else did.
but you noticed.
you noticed everything about her, which was probably part of the problem.
“you missed two pages,” you said quietly, setting the charts beside her.
mel blinked hard like she’d just remembered where she was.
“oh.”
her voice sounded rough. tired.
she took the charts from you carefully, not meeting your eyes.
“thanks.”
you lingered for a second.
“you okay?”
“yeah.”
immediate. automatic.
a lie.
you leaned against the counter beside her. the er buzzed around you — phones ringing, someone arguing with radiology, a kid crying down the hall — but mel stayed curled inward like she was trying to make herself smaller than the noise.
“you haven’t taken a break in like eight hours,” you said.
“didn’t notice.”
that was another thing.
mel forgot she existed sometimes.
forgot to eat. forgot to drink water. forgot her own limits until they slammed into her all at once and left her shaking in supply closets trying not to cry where anybody could hear.
you knew because you’d found her there before.
not crying exactly. mel didn’t really cry in front of people.
just sitting on the floor with her hands over her ears and this awful exhausted look on her face like the world had become too loud to survive.
she’d looked humiliated when she realized you’d seen her.
you’d never hated anybody more than yourself in that moment for making her feel exposed.
“mel.”
“i’m working.”
“you’re dissociating.”
her jaw tightened immediately.
silence.
then: “don’t do that.”
“do what?”
“say things like you know me.”
the words landed harder than they probably should have.
you stepped back a little before you could stop yourself.
mel realized it instantly.
you could always tell the exact second she regretted something because panic flashed across her face so fast it barely existed at all.
“i didn’t mean—”
“it’s fine.”
“no, i—”
“mel, it’s okay.”
but it wasn’t.
because the thing about caring about mel king was that it always felt like standing too close to something skittish. every time you thought she trusted you, she pulled away again like she regretted letting you near her in the first place.
and maybe she did.
mel stared down at the charts in her hands so hard it looked painful.
“i just don’t like people assuming things,” she muttered.
“i wasn’t assuming.”
“you were.”
you swallowed hard.
“okay.”
she flinched at your tone.
god.
you hated this.
hated how easy it was for the two of you to become strangers again.
a trauma alert went off before either of you could say anything else.
mel moved instantly. work mode. gone.
by the time the patient was stabilized an hour later, she still hadn’t looked at you once.
—
the worst part was that mel wasn’t mean.
not really.
people thought she was cold because she got quiet when she was overwhelmed and blunt when she was tired, but underneath all of that she was painfully soft in ways she clearly wished she wasn’t.
she apologized to inanimate objects when she bumped into them.
she got attached to difficult patients.
she once cried in the ambulance bay over a dead bird and then refused to talk about it afterward.
she cared too much about everything and acted like she cared about nothing because it was easier.
you understood that.
which was maybe why it hurt so bad when she shut you out.
you found her hours later sitting alone outside the ambulance entrance during a lull in the shift.
freezing cold.
no jacket.
knees pulled to her chest.
she looked up when the door swung open behind you, immediately tense until she realized it was you.
then she looked away again.
you stood there awkwardly for a second before sitting beside her on the curb.
neither of you spoke.
cars hissed past on wet pavement somewhere nearby. somebody laughed too loudly inside the hospital. mel kept rubbing her thumb against the seam of her scrub pants over and over and over.
“i hate when you do that,” she said eventually.
“do what?”
“go quiet.”
you stared at her.
“you told me to stop acting like i know you.”
“i know.”
“okay.”
mel pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes.
she looked exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with sleep.
“i didn’t mean it like that,” she whispered.
“then how did you mean it?”
she opened her mouth.
closed it again.
sometimes talking seemed physically difficult for her. like thoughts got stuck somewhere between her brain and her mouth and she hated herself for not being able to force them out correctly.
“i don’t know,” she said finally, frustrated. “i just—”
she stopped.
you waited.
mel laughed once under her breath, but there was nothing funny in it.
“you make me feel too visible.”
your chest tightened.
she still wouldn’t look at you.
“most people don’t notice things,” she continued quietly. “and if they do, they don’t say anything. but you always know when something’s wrong with me before i do.”
you didn’t know what to say to that.
mel swallowed hard.
“it scares me.”
there it was.
honest and ugly and small.
you looked down at your hands.
“i’m not trying to make you uncomfortable.”
“i know.”
“then why does it feel like every time i get close to you, you panic and push me away?”
mel’s breathing caught slightly.
for a second you thought she wasn’t gonna answer.
then, barely audible:
“because i don’t know what you want from me.”
your heart broke a little at that.
because she sounded genuinely confused.
not manipulative. not defensive.
just scared.
“nothing,” you said softly. “i don’t want anything from you.”
she finally looked over.
eyes tired. guarded. uncertain.
“that’s not true.”
“okay,” you admitted. “i want you around. i want you to stop pretending you’re fine all the time. i want you to let people care about you without acting like it’s some kind of threat.”
mel stared at you for so long you thought maybe you’d gone too far.
then she said quietly, “i don’t know how.”
and that—
that nearly killed you.
because mel said it like she was ashamed.
like not knowing how to be loved properly was some personal failure.
you looked away before she could see how badly that affected you.
“you don’t have to be good at it,” you murmured.
“yeah?”
“yeah.”
silence settled again.
cold air. ambulance lights reflecting off wet concrete. mel sitting so close your shoulders almost touched but not quite.
after a minute, she spoke again.
“when i was a kid,” she said slowly, “everybody thought i was angry all the time.”
you stayed quiet.
“but i wasn’t. i just…” she shrugged helplessly. “everything always felt too loud. and people wanted me to react correctly to things and i never really knew how.”
she laughed softly to herself.
“my mom used to tell me i looked miserable even when i was happy.”
your throat tightened painfully.
“that’s awful.”
“she wasn’t trying to be mean.”
“doesn’t make it less awful.”
mel rubbed at her eyes again.
“i think sometimes people decide who they think i am before i get the chance to explain.”
you looked at her carefully.
“is that what you think i’m doing?”
“no.”
she answered too fast.
immediate.
certain.
“no,” she repeated quieter. “that’s the problem.”
something shifted painfully inside your chest.
because suddenly you understood.
mel wasn’t scared you misunderstood her.
she was scared you understood her perfectly and wouldn’t like what you found.
you wanted to say something reassuring. something careful and gentle and convincing.
instead you just said the truth.
“i like you anyway.”
mel looked down immediately.
you saw her throat move when she swallowed.
“you shouldn’t.”
“that’s not your decision.”
another long silence.
then, very slowly, mel leaned sideways until her shoulder rested lightly against yours.
tentative.
like she expected you to pull away.
you didn’t.
you stayed completely still while she sat there trembling slightly from either cold or exhaustion or both.
kiss your screen every time you see a typo or grammatical error in my fics because it means it's home grown and not some ai bullshit and im dead serious about this
all she asks for is respect when it comes to her. you have a moment where youre a little mean? a sincere apology will do. you forget to do something? explain your faults and show her how you’re gonna take steps to not forget next time.
cassie is understanding, incredibly so. so.. when you’re mad, cursing her, ignoring, refusing to touch her. she sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose with a shake of her head. because if there’s one thing she hates it’s a spoiled brat. “always appreciate what you have before it’s gone.” is her motto. and in this case it’s her patience.
“m’sorry youre having a bad day. but thats not how you talk to me sweetheart, you know that don’t you?”
she knows how to fix your attitude. she doesn't bother spanking you or anything. she pats her thigh, urging you to sit onto her lap. slipping her cold hands into ur pants, urging her fingers into you. just when you're at your peak, she'll take it away from you. staring at you for your response, she whispers softly; “be good next time, yeah?” and didn't surrender to your petty begging.
to top it all off before she placed you in this punishment he made you chug two whole bottles of water. standing and tipping the bottle down your throat to ensure you swallow it all. the cool liquid sitting in your stomach low and heavy.
“what..if i have to use the bathroom?” “you should have thought about that using your better judgement. remember, if you make a mess you’ll have to clean it.”
she knows you will, she wants you too. she wants you to feel the heat of embarrassment and shame, knowing it will stave off any future outbursts or so she hopes. if not? that’s alright, she has more than one way to keep you in check.
summary: you move to pittsburgh for your first job at ptmc, accidentally make out with a hot stranger at a bar the night before orientation, and then find out she’s cassie mckay from your department so now your entire career is basically a hostage situation
wc:4.5k
the roads make no sense. every hill feels vertical. the weather changes every four minutes. and everyone at the grocery store somehow walks faster than you.
you spend your entire first week in pittsburgh convinced you’ve made a catastrophic mistake.
not because the city’s bad, exactly.
it’s just… aggressive.
plus your apartment still smells vaguely like cardboard because half your life is sitting in unpacked boxes against the wall.
“you’re spiraling again,” your roommate says from the couch.
you look up from your laptop. “i’m preparing.”
“you’ve reread the ptmc employee handbook six times.”
“because what if i miss something important?”
“it’s literally just hr policies.”
“what if there’s a secret test?”
she stares at you.
“you think hospitals secretly test people?”
“i don’t know! maybe!”
your roommate snorts loudly before tossing popcorn at your head.
“you need to calm down before tomorrow.”
“i am calm.”
“you alphabetized your skincare products an hour ago.”
“that means nothing.”
“it means you’re one bad thought away from medically significant stress.”
you groan and let your head fall back against the couch dramatically.
tomorrow is your first official shift at ptmc.
your first actual hospital job.
your first real adult job.
which sounds exciting in theory until you remember you’re twenty-three years old and still google things like how long is socially acceptable eye contact before it becomes threatening.
“come out tonight,” your roommate says suddenly.
you narrow your eyes immediately. “absolutely not.”
“you’ve been sitting here panicking for two straight days.”
“because i work at a hospital tomorrow.”
“exactly why you should drink tonight.”
“that logic feels dangerous.”
“and yet correct.”
you almost refuse.
seriously.
you even open your mouth to say no before realizing maybe she’s right. maybe sitting in your apartment stress-cleaning the kitchen for the fourth time isn’t helping.
so two hours later you’re getting ready in your tiny bathroom while your roommate blasts music from the other room and yells unhelpful commentary through the wall.
“wear the black top!”
“it makes me look nervous!”
“you are nervous!”
“exactly!”
eventually you settle on jeans, boots, and the black long sleeve anyway because apparently humiliation is important for personal growth.
the bar downtown is packed by the time you get there.
not club-level packed. worse somehow. crowded enough that everyone keeps bumping shoulders and yelling over the music while bartenders move around at terrifying speed trying not to die.
a hockey game plays on the tv above the bar.
someone in the back screams every thirty seconds.
your roommate disappears almost instantly after recognizing somebody from work, leaving you alone near the bar clutching your drink like emotional support.
you check your phone.
11:14 pm.
you should probably go home early.
be responsible.
sleep before your shift.
instead you order another drink.
“vodka cranberry?”
the voice beside you sounds genuinely offended.
you turn automatically.
and immediately forget what functioning normally feels like.
the woman sitting beside you looks exhausted in the hottest possible way.
brown hair shoved back messily. black sweater with the sleeves pushed up. tired eyes sharp enough to make your stomach flip instantly.
she glances at your drink with visible judgment.
“that’s your order?”
you blink once. “wow.”
“i’m serious.”
“it’s literally vodka and cranberry juice.”
“it’s basically fruit punch.”
“okay rude.”
she snorts softly into her non-alcoholic drink.
“you’re new here.”
it catches you off guard. “what?”
“you’ve looked terrified since you walked in.”
“i do not look terrified.”
she raises one eyebrow slowly.
“…okay maybe a little terrified.”
“figured.”
you should probably be annoyed.
instead you laugh.
and apparently that interests her because she turns toward you more fully now, elbow resting against the bar.
“cassie,” she says finally.
you tell her your name.
her hand brushes yours briefly when you shake it.
rings cold against your skin.
your brain immediately decides to stop working.
cool.
great start.
“so,” cassie says, “what’s the crisis?”
“what?”
“people only look this stressed at bars for three reasons. breakups, work, or family issues.”
“maybe i just have anxious energy.”
“that falls under work.”
you laugh despite yourself.
cassie smiles slightly after making you laugh like she wasn’t fully expecting it.
it softens her face.
which honestly just makes the situation worse.
“i start a new job tomorrow,” you admit.
“that explains the panic.”
“i’m trying to act normal about it.”
“you’re failing a little.”
“thank you. that’s very comforting.”
cassie lifts her beer casually. “happy to help.”
there’s something weirdly easy about talking to her.
like you’ve known her longer than fifteen minutes.
you tell yourself it’s because she’s funny. sarcastic in a dry exhausted kind of way that makes you want to keep making her laugh just to hear it again.
you talk about moving to the city.
cassie complains about pittsburgh traffic with genuine hatred.
you complain about unpacking.
cassie tells you she once lived out of boxes for four months because she hated furniture shopping.
“that’s insane.”
“i had a mattress and a tv. what else do you need?”
“basic human stability?”
“sounds fake.”
you laugh loud enough that a couple people glance over.
cassie notices.
she smiles into her drink after that in a way that makes your chest feel weird.
you really need to get it together.
the longer the conversation goes, the more obvious it becomes that cassie flirts completely by accident.
or maybe on purpose.
you honestly can’t tell.
she keeps leaning closer when you talk. her knee brushes yours under the bar and stays there. every time you say something that makes her laugh, she looks at your mouth afterward for half a second too long.
it’s driving you insane.
“what kind of job?” she asks eventually.
“hospital.”
cassie groans immediately.
“oh no.”
“that bad?”
“depends. you enjoy sleeping?”
“already terrified actually.”
“good. realistic expectations.”
“you work in healthcare too?”
she takes another sip of beer instead of answering right away.
“unfortunately.”
“that sounds personal.”
“because it is.”
before you can ask more, somebody squeezes too close behind you trying to reach the bar. you stumble sideways slightly and cassie’s hand lands automatically on your waist.
your brain short-circuits immediately.
cassie steadies you easily.
warm hand. firm grip. smells like expensive perfume and beer and something clean underneath it.
you stop breathing for a second.
“you okay?” she asks.
you stare at her.
cassie’s eyes flick briefly to your mouth.
“yeah,” you say finally.
your voice comes out embarrassingly soft.
cassie definitely notices.
the corner of her mouth twitches slightly.
“you’re cute when you’re nervous.”
your entire nervous system catches on fire.
“i’m not nervous.”
“sure.”
“seriously.”
“your face is red.”
“the bar’s hot.”
cassie laughs quietly.
you want to die.
instead you take a huge sip of your drink while she watches with obvious amusement.
god.
she’s unbearable.
you like her immediately.
which feels dangerous.
because cassie looks like exactly the kind of person capable of ruining your life accidentally.
the hockey game ends eventually.
the bar gets louder afterward somehow. people crowd closer together. your roommate sends you a text from somewhere across the building.
having fun??? or are you still clinically anxious
before you can answer, cassie speaks again.
“dance with me.”
you blink. “what?”
“you heard me.”
“i actually might not have. this music is criminally loud.”
cassie rolls her eyes, smiling.
“come dance with me.”
you should say no.
mostly because you’re already making enough of a fool of yourself.
instead you follow her immediately.
pathetic.
the dance floor is packed shoulder-to-shoulder.
lights flash across everyone in quick colors while bass rattles through your chest hard enough to feel in your ribs.
cassie moves close instantly.
hands settling on your waist like they belong there.
your brain fully gives up after that.
“still nervous?” she asks over the music.
“you ask that a lot.”
“because you keep looking at me like i’m gonna bite you.”
“maybe i’m deciding if i’d survive it.”
cassie laughs loudly enough this time that you feel weirdly accomplished.
“there she is,” she says.
“what?”
“you stopped overthinking for five seconds.”
you open your mouth to respond but cassie steps closer suddenly and every coherent thought evaporates.
she’s warm.
really warm.
one of her hands slides slightly higher against your side while people move around you in blurred lights and noise.
you can smell her perfume again.
your stomach flips violently.
“you flirt with strangers often?” you ask, mostly to distract yourself from the fact your heart is trying to kill you.
“only cute ones.”
you groan immediately. “that was terrible.”
“and yet effective.”
unfortunately true.
you hate that she knows it too.
cassie’s eyes stay fixed on yours for a second too long.
then your mouth.
then back up again.
the tension suddenly feels insane.
like genuinely unbearable.
you barely know this woman and somehow she already feels dangerous in a way you can’t explain.
“you’re staring again,” she says softly.
“you’re very distracting.”
“sounds like a personal problem.”
“everything about you feels like a personal problem actually.”
cassie smiles slowly at that.
and then — because apparently your self-preservation instincts have fully left your body — you grab the front of her shirt and kiss her.
cassie freezes for maybe half a second before kissing you back hard enough to make your knees weak.
holy shit.
her hand moves immediately to the back of your neck while the other tightens against your waist, pulling you closer through the crowd.
everything else disappears.
the music. the people. the lights.
gone.
all you can think about is cassie kissing you like she’s been wanting to do it for hours too.
she tastes like beer and mint.
one of your hands slides into her curls without thinking and cassie makes this soft sound against your mouth that nearly kills you instantly.
when you finally pull apart, both of you look equally wrecked.
cassie stares at you for one long second.
then laughs breathlessly.
“well,” she says, “that explains a lot.”
you cover your face immediately.
“oh my god.”
“don’t do that.”
cassie catches your wrist gently before you can fully hide.
her thumb brushes against your skin absentmindedly.
“i liked it.”
your stomach flips again.
before you can respond, cassie’s phone starts vibrating aggressively in her pocket.
she groans instantly.
“if this is work, i’m gonna start biting people.”
“healthy coping mechanism.”
“thank you.”
she pulls her phone out.
you watch her expression shift slightly while she reads whatever message popped up.
tiredness settling back into her face.
“everything okay?” you ask.
cassie sighs. “yeah. hospital stuff.”
“at midnight?”
“healthcare doesn’t believe in peace.”
you laugh softly. “guess i’ll learn that soon enough.”
cassie glances up. “what hospital?”
“ptmc.”
everything stops.
cassie goes completely still.
“…what?”
your stomach drops immediately.
“what?”
“you work at ptmc?”
cassie stares at you for two full seconds before dragging a hand down her face dramatically.
“you have got to be kidding me.”
oh no.
“what.”
“what department?”
you tell her quietly.
cassie blinks once.
then starts laughing.
actually laughing.
“no fucking way.”
your soul leaves your body.
“why are you reacting like that?”
“because,” cassie says through laughter, “you’re literally working with me tomorrow.”
silence.
horrible devastating silence.
the kind where your entire body goes numb from embarrassment.
“i’m quitting,” you say immediately.
cassie laughs harder.
“before orientation?”
“i kissed my coworker in a bar less than twelve hours before my first shift.”
“future coworker.”
“that doesn’t help.”
you genuinely consider running away.
moving cities again maybe.
changing your identity.
cassie watches your complete internal breakdown with obvious amusement.
“relax,” she says finally.
“easy for you to say.”
“i’m not gonna make it weird.”
you stare at her. “cassie.”
“okay fair point.”
“you literally flirt like it’s a medical condition.”
she grins. “and you kissed me anyway.”
unfortunately true.
people move around you while you stand there dying internally.
cassie steps slightly closer again.
close enough that your heart immediately starts acting stupid all over.
“you’ll survive tomorrow,” she says softer now.
“unlikely.”
“promise.”
the way she says it makes something twist weirdly in your chest.
before you can respond, somebody nearby yells cassie’s name.
you glance over automatically.
a tall guy near the bar is waving at her while another woman beside him looks exhausted enough to collapse.
cassie sighs immediately.
“shit.”
“friends?”
“coworkers.”
she says it with the specific tone of somebody who’s been through war with them.
you laugh slightly.
cassie looks back at you afterward, expression softer than before.
“you should probably go home if you start work tomorrow.”
“wow. kicking me out already.”
“i’m being responsible.”
“that seems fake coming from you.”
“rude.”
you smile despite yourself.
there’s a weird pause afterward.
not awkward exactly.
just… quiet.
like neither of you really wants the night to end yet.
cassie breaks first.
“what color scrubs are they making you wear?”
you blink. “blue?”
“hm.”
“what?”
“nothing.”
“cassie.”
she smiles slowly. “blue’ll look good on you.”
your face immediately heats up again.
cassie looks way too pleased with herself.
“you’re horrible.”
“and yet you still kissed me.”
“starting to think i need therapy.”
“probably.”
you snort loudly enough that cassie laughs too.
god.
you really like her laugh.
“okay,” cassie says eventually. “seriously. go home. sleep.”
“bossy.”
“occupational hazard.”
“you literally don’t supervise me.”
“not yet.”
your stomach does a violent terrifying thing at that.
cassie notices immediately.
the smug look on her face becomes unbearable.
“oh my god,” you mutter.
“there it is again.”
“what?”
“the nervous thing.”
“you’re making me nervous on purpose.”
“because it’s cute.”
you hate how much you like hearing that.
cassie’s coworkers yell for her again from across the room.
this time she rolls her eyes dramatically.
“coming,” she shouts back before looking at you again.
there’s that weird softness in her expression now that definitely wasn’t there earlier.
it catches you off guard a little.
“see you tomorrow,” she says.
you groan instantly. “please don’t remind me.”
cassie laughs.
then steps closer one last time, fingers brushing lightly against your wrist.
“wear the black top again sometime.”
your brain fully stops functioning.
cassie smirks slightly like she knows exactly what she’s done before turning away through the crowd.
you stand there frozen for a full ten seconds afterward.
then your roommate suddenly appears beside you holding two drinks.
she takes one look at your face.
“…what happened.”
you stare blankly ahead.
“i think i accidentally made out with my future coworker.”
summary: after teasing your girlfriend cassie mckay at work, she puts you in your place.
warnings: 18+ established relationship, sexting, dom!cassie, strap!cassie, brat tamer!cassie, spanking (r!receiving), rough sex, brief aftercare
word count: 1.4k
a/n: i accidentally deleted the request but i luckily got a screenshot beforehand! i wrote this after taking an edible just fyi and i have not proofread.
Ding!
Cassie opens her phone from the nursing station to see a message from you.
Of your tits.
You’re in the bathroom snapping a few sexy pictures to tease her. You know it’s going to drive her crazy for the rest of your shift, and you love it.
Immediately, Cassie lowers her phone brightness. She quickly glances around to make sure no one saw.
“Jesus”, Cassie mumbles to herself.
She puts her phone back into her pocket, not even bothering to respond. But a second later she gets another notification.
Reluctantly, Cassie pulls her phone back out. She opens your text.
You: like what you see?? ;)
Cassie: Stop.
Cassie: We’ll obviously, you’re fucking hot, but STOP
You send her another picture. In this one your face is in it, and you’re gripping one of your boobs.
Cassie: Baby what the fuck
Cassie: You better not text me again. I’m turning my phone off now
You: i want you to fuck me. need your strap deep inside.
Cassie sees that message before putting her phone on silent and tucking it away.
Her hands form into fists, her nails digging into her palm hard enough to leave marks.
You walk out of the bathroom and walk by the nurse station. Without stopping, you glance at Cassie. “You good, McKay?”
Cassie looks up, her eyes meeting yours. She looks pissed.
But you’re smiling smugly and give her a quick wink before passing her.
“Can you hand me the thread?” Cassie asks, staring at you from the opposite side of the patient.
“Give me a second”, you reply as you put in the order for blood work.
“C’mon I gotta stitch him up”, Cassie says impatiently. The patient was stable and not bleeding — he just had an open wound — so it wasn’t life or death.
“Didn’t anyone teach you patience, McKay?” You say, batting your eyelashes playfully.
Cassie looks at you annoyed.
Trinity who’s standing right beside you, stifles a laugh. A teasing grin grows on your face.
“Here you go”, you say innocently.
Cassie rolls her eyes and takes the thread from you. She starts working on the stitches.
Suddenly, Robby pops his head into the room. “I need another set of hands for an incoming trauma.”
“I’ll do it”, Trinity says eagerly. She discards her gloves as she leaves the room and follows Robby.
Now that it’s just the two of you — well, besides the unconscious patient — Cassie doesn’t hesitate before scolding you.
Not in a doctor teaching way though. In a putting your naughty girlfriend in her place way.
“You’re gonna regret that when you get home”, Cassie says, her eyes dark.
“You feel that?” Cassie asks as she bends you over her lap, your crotch touching hers.
Gasping in surprise, you nod. The feeling of her strap rubbing against you from under her pants is too much.
All of a sudden a sharp, forceful slap lands against the curve of your bare ass. A ragged gasp leaves your mouth.
"Cassie—"
Before you can say anything else, another blow hits your cheeks. "Did I say you could speak?"
"Fuck", you mumble through a moan.
Cassie's hand slaps your ass again. Instinctively, your back arches slightly and your hips lift.
"You like this, huh?" Cassie rasps out. Another heavy slap smacks against your plump flesh. "Dirty girl", she tutters.
Cassie hits your ass harder than before, and your teeth clamp down on your lower lip so hard that a tiny bit of blood surfaces. Cassie groans as she looks at the handprint she just left.
"Have you learned your lesson yet?"
"I-I..."
You feel Cassie's hand imprint on your behind once more. "Sentences, baby."
"Yes", you breath.
She slaps you again. "You gonna be a good girl?" Cassie asks with a smirk.
"Mhm", you hum.
It feels like a whip cracking as Cassie's hand finds your ass. "I said use your words."
"God", you mumble breathlessly. "Yes, I'll be a good girl. Y-your good girl."
Another slap echoes through the room. Your skin stings in the best way.
"That's what I like to hear", Cassie huskily replies. "Now, get on the bed. Face down."
Before you move off her lap, Cassie gives you one final brutal smack.
Eagerly, you climb off of Cassie and crawl to the center of the bed. You lie down and turn your head towards your girlfriend. She's undressing quickly, becoming naked too.
The second Cassie's clothes come off, she adjusts her strap so she can fuck you.
"Knees", she hisses.
Without wasting a second, you do as she asks. Cassie comes up behind you and grips your hips, pulling you to her.
One of Cassie's hands wraps around to your front. She glides her fingers down your dripping folds.
"You're already so wet", she teases. "Guess that means you can take me." Cassie leans forward, her head next to your ear. You feel the cool metal of her gold chain against your back. "No lube", she whispers.
Cassie presses a soft kiss on your ear, and then bites your earlobe before pulling back. She aligns her thick strap with your entrance.
With no warning, Cassie shoves herself inside of you.
Choppily, you inhale. The walls of your cunt burn as Cassie ruthlessly sinks in deep. Once she's pushed as far as she can go, she lets out a low moan of approval.
"Cass", you whisper shakily.
"I know", she coos.
Cassie drawbacks before slamming her hips into your behind. She grabs onto your waist and pulls your ass in the air.
As Cassie thrusts into you, she sees the handprints she left on your red skin which spurs her on. "Gonna fuck your pussy 'til there's nothing left", Cassie tells you with a grunt.
"Need you. N-needed you all... all day", you manage to say between moans and gasps.
Cassie reaches down under you and cups one of your breasts while her other hand continues to help her pound into you. "I've been thinking about your tits all day." She groans as she squeezes your flesh, your hardened nipple smashed against her palm. "You can't be sending me that shit, honey."
"I know. I'm sorry."
"Damn right you are."
Cassie picks up the pace, fucking you relentlessly. The pleasure in your throbbing pussy increases rapidly.
"Cass, I-I won't last much longer."
"Yes, you fucking will. You cum when I tell you do."
"But baby—"
"Shut up", Cassie commands.
You close your eyes, trying to think of anything but the woman roughly destroying your swollen cunt.
Cassie's hips lose their rhythm as she grows closer to her own release. Her exhales become more and more uneven.
All of a sudden you feel Cassie's hand on your stomach. She trails her hand down to your clit, gently pressing and circling.
"Fuck", you mutter.
"You can cum, but I wanna hear you."
Your fingers curl over the bedsheets, desperately needing to grip something. A couple high pitch moans escape you as your orgasm builds, only seconds away.
"Cassie", you whine while she keeps driving her hips against yours while her fingers keep playing with your bundle of nerves.
"Make a mess for me."
Those words send you over the edge. Your pussy clamps hard around Cassie's strap that's plunging deep inside of you. With a long drawn out moan, your trembling body goes limp as you finish.
The sight of you beneath her coming undone all because of her brings Cassie to her peak. Cassie's climax hits, and her eyes roll back. She keeps fucking you through blissed out groans.
Finally, Cassie comes to a stop. She takes a few breaths, then pulls out. You instantly collapse onto your stomach, and hear Cassie's footsteps recede to the bathroom.
After a minute, Cassie comes back without the strap harness. She crawls into bed beside you and pulls you to her. One of her arms encompasses your body, pressing her sweaty body to yours.
Cassie plants a loving kiss on your shoulder. "You okay?"
With your head still in the clouds, you nod.
"Baby?" Cassie asks, concern in her voice.
She knows you're tough, and that you enjoy it when she's rough. Still, Cassie always worries that she actually hurt you.
"I'm fine", you softly breath out.
"Yeah?" she asks, her sweet tone a big contrast to her voice just a few minutes ago.
"Yeah", you assure her.
Cassie pulls you closer and nuzzles into your neck. Your hand finds Cassie's that's resting on your stomach. She whispers sweet nothings into your ear which makes you smile and grow sleepy.
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