#alex cabot drabble

[jareaufiles]

PRECISION IN HEELS — a.cabot x female reader

⸝⸝ PREMISE: You’re just trying to drop off the new kitchen plans and get the hell out. Alex Cabot, your most infuriatingly high-maintenance client, has other ideas — ones that end with you fucking her senseless on her marble countertop.

⸝⸝ WARNINGS: client!alex | builder!reader | reader is pissed off | alex gets manhandled | oral sex | rough sex | hair pulling | biting | scissoring/grinding | mentions of sweat | mention of alex having a trimmed bush | dirty talk | aftercare

⸝⸝ WORD COUNT: 4.3K

You’d spent the entire damn day on another job site—dust in your lungs, sun burning your neck, your hands still stinging from catching a splinter earlier. All you wanted was to swing by her place, drop the updated kitchen plans on the counter, explain a few things, and leave.

But of course, Alex fucking Cabot couldn’t just let anything be easy. The second you stepped through the door of her sleek, modern brownstone, the scent of her perfume hit you like a punch to the throat: clean, floral, and expensive. Just like her. The woman was precision in heels, always composed, always poised. And completely infuriating.

She’d been a nightmare client from the start. Always changing things. “Actually, I want the backsplash to run higher.” “Can we recess the lighting a little more?” “I don’t like the way the island divides the space—let’s shift it six inches.”

Six inches. Like she understood what that meant in the real world. You were starting to think she just liked hearing her own voice in charge, watching you adjust to her whims. She insisted on late-night walkthroughs—had to see how the space felt after dark, she claimed—but half the time it just felt like an excuse to hover behind you while you worked, glass of scotch in one hand, eyes locked on your arms and back like you were another one of her cases she was preparing to dissect.

You still remembered one night in particular. Two weeks ago. Past midnight. The house silent except for the hum of the fridge and the low crackle of ice in her glass. You’d been kneeling on the floor, measuring where the custom cabinetry would land, pencil behind your ear, t-shirt clinging to your skin in the summer heat. You’d felt her watching you then, too—close enough to catch the faint hitch in her breath when you leaned forward, the fabric stretching tight across your back.

“Do you always work this late?” she’d asked, voice softer than usual. Not sharp. Not condescending. Almost…curious.

You didn’t look up. Didn’t give her the satisfaction. “Do you always drink this late?”

A pause. Then a quiet laugh, the sound like breaking glass. “Occupational hazard.”

It should’ve ended there. Should’ve stayed professional, like it always did. But you’d stood to mark the wall studs and she was suddenly right there, a little too close, the heat of her body a phantom against yours.

You’d turned your head, intending to tell her to back off—but your eyes caught on the way the low light hit her face, softening the sharp edges, the way her blouse was unbuttoned one more than usual, collarbone bare, mouth stained dark from the scotch. She looked…dangerous. And you’d felt it then. That pulse of something reckless, sharp, and hot between you.

Neither of you spoke.

You’d held her gaze too long. Long enough for the air to thicken, for your pulse to hammer at your throat. Long enough for her to wet her bottom lip, like she was about to say something she shouldn’t.

Then your phone had buzzed. Some late-night crew text. You’d muttered something about an early start, grabbed your stuff, and left before either of you did something you couldn’t take back.

But it’d been hanging between you ever since. Tighter each time you showed up, worse every time she found a reason to stand too close, to linger too long.

And tonight was no different.

You were bent over the marble countertop, laying out the updated blueprints, when you heard it—those slow, calculated footsteps behind you, the faintest click of her heels on tile. You didn’t even need to look up to know she was doing that thing again where she was standing way too close, breathing down your neck like she was about to purr another change order into your ear.

You gritted your teeth. "Here we go again."

“Is that the final layout?” she asked, low, almost lazy, like she wasn’t the one who’d changed it three times already.

You didn’t turn around. “Yeah. Unless you’ve suddenly decided you want the sink in the ceiling.”

Her laugh was quiet and sharp. “Not yet.”

And then you felt it—her breath right by your ear, her fingers barely grazing the edge of the paper like she owned the damn counter, owned you. It pissed you off how good she smelled. How her voice was smooth and unbothered, how she always made you feel like the help—even when her eyes lingered too long on the way your shirt clung to your back, or how your tool belt sat on your hips.

What pissed you off more was that you let it get to you. You’d caught yourself staring more than once. At the way her pencil skirts hugged her ass, the elegant sweep of her neck, how she always spoke in commands, never suggestions. It made something coil hot and tight in your gut, even as she got under your skin.

Tonight, though, something in you snapped.

Maybe it was the way she brushed past you, like she was claiming space she didn’t earn. Or maybe it was just the heat, the long day, and the knowledge that she thought she was the one pulling all the strings. Either way, you acted before you could think.

You turned around, grabbed her waist, and lifted her clean off the floor like she weighed nothing.

Her eyes widened just for a second as you placed her firmly on the cold marble countertop, right where the blueprints had been. Her skirt hiked up just slightly as her heels knocked against the cabinets. She blinked at you, lips parted, like her brain hadn’t quite caught up to her body.

“Do you ever shut up?” you asked, standing between her knees, crowding her space for once.

That calm, condescending mask she always wore faltered. “Excuse me...”

“No,” you cut her off, voice low, rough. “You don’t get to stand behind me, breathing down my neck like you’re in charge of everything. Not tonight.”

She opened her mouth again, maybe to protest or maybe not, but it didn’t matter. You leaned in close enough to feel her chest brush yours. Close enough to see her pupils dilate, her breath hitch.

She looked like she wanted to say something. Maybe tell you to stop, maybe tell you to keep going but instead she just stared, lips trembling like she couldn’t decide whether to kiss you or kill you.

She didn’t say a word when your hand slid up her thigh, fingers brushing dangerously close to the edge of lace. Didn’t protest when you pulled her in by the hips until she was pressed against you, heat meeting heat, tension thick enough to choke on.

Alex Cabot liked control. Lived for it. But right now? Right now, she was learning exactly what it felt like to lose it.

And God, she liked it.

Goddamn, you’d waited long enough. You were so sick of her smug little smirks, the way she wielded her words like weapons, always keeping you at arm’s length while staring like she wanted to swallow you whole. And tonight? Tonight she didn’t get to stay safe behind those sharp suits and clipped orders.

Your hands gripped her thighs, shoving that tight little pencil skirt higher, dragging the expensive fabric up and over her hips until it bunched at her waist.

She made a sharp, startled sound in the back of her throat, something between a gasp and a protest — but fuck if she didn’t lift her hips to help you, just a little. Just enough to make you smirk.

"Yeah, that’s what I thought," you muttered, fingers splaying against the soft skin of her thighs. God, she was warm. And under that icy courtroom glare, she was shaking.

“I swear to God—”

“No,” you cut her off again, leaning in close, your lips brushing the shell of her ear. “You don’t swear. You beg. And you’re gonna.”

Before she could open that sharp, perfect mouth, you kissed her — hard, teeth knocking, your palm cradling her jaw as you swallowed the sound she made.

She tasted like scotch and expensive lipstick and something beneath it that was pure Alex Cabot, rich and heady and dangerous. You bit her bottom lip, tugged it between your teeth until she gasped, and then you were on her throat.

She arched against you when your mouth latched onto the slender column of her neck, teeth scraping, lips sucking hard enough to leave a mark and that made you grin against her skin.

The delicate, high-maintenance district attorney, marked up like she belonged to you. Her fingers clutched at your shoulders, nails digging through your t-shirt, the sharp little sound she made when you bit down again pure fucking sin.

“God, you piss me off,” you growled against her skin, your hand sliding between her legs, pressing your palm against the damp heat of her panties. Lace, of course. You rubbed slow, cruel circles over the soaked fabric, grinning when her hips jerked against your hand.

“I—I should fire you,” she stammered, but her voice cracked right down the middle, wrecked and breathless.

“You’re not firing shit, Cabot. You’re gonna sit there and take it.”

You pressed harder, feeling how wet she already was, the heat of her seeping through the lace. Her legs trembled against your sides, her breath ragged now, chest heaving against the buttons of her blouse.

“Say it,” you murmured against her throat, your fingers keeping up their steady, relentless pace. “Say you want me.”

“Fuck—” she choked out, eyes fluttering shut as her head tipped back against the cabinets. “I want—God, I want your fingers inside me.”

“Good girl.”

You grabbed the waistband of those drenched panties and ripped them clean off, the delicate fabric giving way with a satisfying tear. She made a startled noise, half outrage, half arousal — but you were already bringing the ruined scrap to your nose, inhaling deep.

“Jesus,” you muttered, the scent of her thick and intoxicating. Musky, sweet, and unmistakably hers. You shoved the ruined lace into your sports bra under your t-shirt, letting it sit against your skin like a trophy, then dragged your gaze down.

Her pussy was perfect. Plush lips slick with wetness, glistening in the low light, the soft swell of her trimmed blonde bush catching the shine. It made you groan.

“Look at you,” you murmured, running your fingers through the short, soft hair, watching the way it glistened under your touch. She shivered hard, a helpless little sound slipping from her throat when you dragged those same damp fingers up to palm her tits over her blouse, feeling the hard points of her nipples against your palm.

Her back arched, pressing into your hand. “God—please—”

You knelt between her thighs, spreading her open with your hands, inhaling the scent of her cunt like it was the only thing you needed in the world. Rich, salty-sweet, pure fucking power.

Then you dove in.

Your tongue flattened against her, licking one long, slow stripe from the bottom of her pussy to the aching bundle of nerves at the top. She cried out, head banging back against the cabinets, thighs trembling around your shoulders.

“Jesus Christ,” she gasped, voice gone wrecked and desperate.

You wrapped your lips around her clit, sucking hard, your fingers sliding into her heat without warning — two, then three, the slick stretch of her walls clenching tight around you. She was so fucking wet, so hot, her cunt pulling at your fingers like she was trying to keep them inside.

“God, Alex,” you groaned against her, your mouth lapping greedily, your fingers working deep, curling just right to drag another broken, choked sound from her lips.

Her hands fisted in your hair, tugging you closer, grinding against your face shamelessly now. “Don’t stop,” she gasped. “Fucking don’t you dare stop...”

You weren’t planning to. Not until you dragged every last ounce of control out of her, until the high-and-mighty Alex Cabot came undone on your tongue.

And from the way her hips were starting to buck, the frantic little sounds breaking from her throat, you were getting damn close.

You could feel it building in her — the way her thighs clenched tighter around your head, those long legs trembling against your shoulders. Her breath had gone ragged, sharp little gasps punched out of her chest, every one higher, thinner, like she was barely hanging on.

You fucking loved it. Loved having her like this, wrecked and desperate, nothing like the immaculate, untouchable ice queen she paraded around town.

Her pussy was a mess now, slick and swollen, your fingers moving deep inside her, crooking just right to drag over that spot that made her whole body jerk. You sucked her clit harder, rolling it with your tongue, and the taste of her — Christ, the taste — salty, sweet, thick and musky, like the best kind of sin, coating your tongue as you fucked your mouth against her.

“F-fuck, fuck, I—” she stammered, and you felt it then, the way her cunt started fluttering around your fingers, her hips trying to grind down against your face and pull away at the same time.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby,” you growled against her soaked pussy, the sound of it wet, obscene. “Fucking come for me.”

And she did.

It hit her hard — her whole body tensing like a wire pulled too tight before it snapped, a hoarse, half-choked cry tearing from her throat. “Oh, god — fuck, yes — fuck yes, right there—!”

Her thighs clamped around your head, her hands pulling your hair so tight it stung, grinding her pussy against your mouth as her orgasm tore through her. You felt her gush against your tongue, hot and thick, coating your chin, the sharp tang of it filling your mouth.

It was fucking perfect: messy and raw, nothing like the polished, practiced woman she pretended to be.

You kept working her through it, tongue flicking over her clit, fingers buried deep until she was whining, body twitching, hips jerking like it was too much.

“Jesusfuck, I can’t—” she gasped, trying to pull away, but you didn’t let her. Not yet.

You groaned against her pussy, licking up every drop of slick she gave you, savoring the taste of her as she shuddered through aftershocks, those perfect, desperate little sounds spilling from her lips. God, she was so pretty like this.

Flushed, breathless, her blonde hair falling loose from its clip, pupils blown wide as she stared down at you like she couldn’t believe what you’d just done to her.

You pulled your fingers out slow, watching them glisten in the low light, then sucked them into your mouth, licking them clean as you held her gaze.

“Tastes even better than you smell,” you muttered, voice rough and thick with it, and the flush on her cheeks deepened, lips trembling like she wanted to say something — maybe thank you, maybe order you to do it again. Either way, you weren’t done with her yet.

Not even close.

Alex was still catching her breath when you rose up from between her thighs, your face slick with her, your mouth aching from how hard you'd worked her over. Her chest was heaving, the flush on her skin climbing high up her neck, her hair a beautiful fucking mess.

But her eyes — Jesus, those sharp, cutting blue eyes — they didn’t look so cold now. They were heavy, soft in a way you’d never seen before, pupils blown so wide they swallowed the color.

She reached for you without thinking, curling her fingers around the front of your work shirt and tugging you in, like she needed to feel your weight against her, needed to remind herself she wasn’t dreaming.

You let her. Let her pull you in close, her hands roaming over your shoulders, down your arms, fingertips tracing the hard lines of muscle built from years of hauling lumber, lifting beams, crawling through crawl spaces, and gripping a hammer. She didn’t hide how much she liked it either — her touch lingered, nails scraping gently down your bicep, across your ribs, down to the sharp V of your hips where your belt still hung heavy.

“Fucking Christ,” she muttered, almost to herself, her palms flattening against your stomach, mapping out every ridge like she could memorize you through touch alone.

“You’re a piece of work, Cabot,” you growled, before slamming your mouth to hers. It was rough, messy. No room for finesse. You wanted to claim her, wanted to leave her aching with it. And she kissed you back just as filthy, pulling your bottom lip between her teeth and biting down hard enough to sting.

Then you did what you’d wanted to do for months.

Grabbed both sides of her expensive, delicate blouse and yanked. Buttons went flying across the floor, the sound sharp in the quiet kitchen, leaving silk gaping open to reveal bare skin and a lacy black bra barely containing her tits.

She broke the kiss with a gasp, scowling even though her pupils were still blown and her lips were swollen as hell. “That was a designer piece, you animal.”

“Cry about it,” you shot back, breathless, and stepped back just long enough to peel off your own clothes. No grace to it. You tugged your shirt off over your head, toed off your boots, yanked your pants and underwear down in one go. Sweat-slick skin catching in spots, dirt from the job site smudged along your thighs, but you didn’t give a shit.

You caught the way her gaze dragged over you — the sharp hitch in her breath when she saw you naked for the first time. The way her eyes lingered on your thighs, your stomach, the curve of your breasts, before she reached behind her to undo her bra and toss it aside like she couldn’t be fucking bothered to care anymore. Sitting there on the counter, legs still open, hair wild, face flushed, and completely bare.

She was obscene.

And perfect.

You climbed onto the counter with her, shoving the blueprints aside with your knee, until you were straddling her, pushing her down onto her back. The cool marble under her and your body over her, grinding against her like you could fuse your skin to hers.

Her head tipped back with a low, needy sound when your lips found her throat again, biting down hard just below her jaw, leaving a dark, messy mark she’d have to cover in court tomorrow. You dragged your tongue over it, kissed the spot like an apology you didn’t mean.

You rocked your hips down, your soaked pussy sliding against hers — hot, wet, and so fucking good. The friction of it made both of you moan, her nails digging into your back as you ground down harder.

“God, fuck,” Alex breathed, her voice wrecked, her back arching up into you. “Don’t stop...”

You pulled back just enough to adjust, grabbing her thigh and hitching it higher over your hip, your other leg sliding between hers as you shifted into a better angle. The slick, filthy sound of your pussies dragging against each other made both of you groan.

Alex’s gaze dropped between your bodies, hungry and unguarded, watching as you spread your legs wider and your folds parted — glistening, swollen, absolutely dripping from how wrecked you already were for her.

“Goddamn,” she breathed, voice thick and raspy. Her lips curved into that slow, dangerous smirk she wore in court when she knew she had someone beat. “You’ve got a pretty pussy.”

The way she said it like she was admiring something expensive, like she’d won it, made your cunt throb. You grinned down at her, grinding your hips forward so your clit slid perfectly against hers, the friction already fucking electric.

“Yeah?” you rasped, leaning down to kiss her, biting at her lower lip. “You’re about to find out how good it feels too.”

Alex didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. She grabbed your hips, pulled you in tighter, and then leaned up to catch your breast in her mouth, sucking hard, teeth scraping over your nipple. You let out a sharp, filthy moan, arching into her, loving the sting, the heat of her mouth on your skin.

“That’s it, Cabot,” you growled, threading your fingers through her blonde hair, holding her there as you started grinding harder. The slick slide of your pussies, the way your clits kept bumping, catching, sending shocks through both of you — it was pure fucking madness. The sound of it, wet and dirty, filled the kitchen.

“You feel that?” you panted, moving your hips in tight, desperate circles, watching her face, watching how it contorted in pleasure. “Feel how wet you are for me? Jesus, you’re soaked. Fucking knew you’d be like this under all that ice.”

Alex let out a ragged, half-choked moan, her lips gliding from your breast to your throat, panting against your skin. “Don’t stop,” she hissed. “God, don’t you fucking stop --”

“Not going anywhere,” you growled, fucking your hips down harder, grinding against her clit just the way she needed. “You’re gonna come for me like this, Alex. Wanna feel you shake. Wanna watch you fall the fuck apart while I’m on top of you.”

Her hands clawed at your back, her head tipping against the marble as you fucked her through it, the wet slap of your pussies echoing between you. The friction was insane, every pass over your clits making you see stars, your thighs trembling with the effort.

“Fucking Christ.” you gasped, feeling yourself teeter on the edge.

And then she was there too, you could feel it — the way her legs tightened around you, the desperate little sounds tearing out of her throat, her body arching up, chasing it.

“That’s it, baby,” you grunted, not letting up. “Come with me. Come on my pussy, Cabot. Fucking come.”

Her whole body locked up, a high, broken cry punching from her throat as her pussy jerked against yours, her orgasm slamming into her so hard it dragged you right over the edge with her. Your clit spasmed, cunt clenching, grinding through it until you were both a shaking, gasping mess, clinging to each other like you might fucking drown.

The marble was slick with it, your thighs aching, sweat sticking your skin together, but neither of you moved. Just lay there, breathing hard, your lips pressed to her pulse, still feeling the aftershocks twitch through your cunt.

“Goddamn,” you muttered against her throat. “Best fucking job site visit I’ve ever had.”

You slumped down beside her on the counter, both of you still catching your breath, skin slick with sweat, the smell of sex hanging thick in the air. Your body was aching in the best way — thighs trembling, hips sore, lips swollen from how hard you’d kissed her. You let your head tip back against the cabinets, staring up at the ceiling while your chest heaved.

And without a word, Alex shifted closer, curling into your side like it was the most natural thing in the world. Her fingers traced aimless, lazy shapes over your stomach, and she pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your shoulder. Another to your collarbone. Then your jaw. And finally your lips — slow, tender, like she wasn’t the same fucking menace who’d been clawing at you minutes ago.

You let her. Even turned into it, your hand finding the back of her neck, holding her there for a second longer than necessary. There was something about the way she fit against you like this, warm and undone and soft in a way you’d never seen from her before, that made it hard to remember why she pissed you off so much in the first place.

But you still smirked against her lips. “You’re a goddamn menace, you know that?”

She huffed a breath of laughter, shaking her head like she was too tired to argue, and you sighed, hauling yourself off the counter. Your legs threatened to give for a second, but you steadied, then turned back to her.

“C’mere, high-maintenance,” you muttered, and without waiting for permission, scooped her up in your arms, bridal style. Her eyes widened, a surprised laugh spilling out of her.

“Where the hell are you taking me?” she asked, arms hooking around your neck.

“Bathroom,” you grunted, adjusting her in your arms. “Gonna get you cleaned up, and you can return the favor. Can’t have you smelling like a goddamn construction site. Or me.”

She hummed, nuzzling against your throat like she didn’t have a single objection to the plan.

You carried her to the bathroom, setting her down on the cool tile before grabbing a cloth and running warm water. The whole thing was quiet — domestic, almost. You cleaned her up with a gentleness that surprised even you, her skin flushed and her hair mussed, looking more real than you’d ever seen her. She did the same for you, a small, contented smile tugging at her lips the whole time.

Afterward, you leaned against the sink, running a hand through your hair and grabbing your shirt from the floor. “Alright, I should go,” you muttered, already steeling yourself for tomorrow’s bullshit. “Got an early start—”

“No,” she blurted, and you blinked down at her.

Alex, the woman who never let anyone see her sweat, was pouting. Straight up pouting, a soft little whine in her voice as she stepped closer. “Stay. Just—stay, okay?” she mumbled, not even bothering to hide how needy she sounded.

You stared at her, one brow raised, watching the way her fingers fidgeted at her sides like she wasn’t sure she was allowed to ask.

And fuck it, because maybe you were too tired, too wrung out, or maybe it was the look in her eyes. Either way, you sighed, tossed your shirt back down, and tugged her into you.

“Fine,” you muttered against her hair, lips brushing her temple. “But you’re making me coffee in the morning.”

“Deal,” she whispered, already pulling you toward the bedroom.

[spicyschemmenti]

COURTHOUSE STAIRWELL ʚଓ g!p alex cabot x shy best friend!fem!reader

you were quiet and well-behaved during the meeting, but your body betrayed how badly you wanted her. she dragged you into the stairwell and used you until you were trembling and full. now you're trying to act normal again — but alex won’t let you forget what you are.

g!p alex, deepthroating, swallowing cum, creampie, breeding kink if you squint, dom!alex, sub!reader, semi-public, mild humiliation.

alex cabot masterlist alex cabot taglist

The meeting was hell.

You’d sat beside her at the long mahogany conference table, eyes downcast, hands folded neatly in your lap like always — the quiet, well-behaved little thing who only spoke when spoken to. Everyone around you was stiff in suits, flipping through legal briefs and rattling off numbers. And you tried to focus. Really, you did.

But Alex was sitting right next to you.

Sharp jaw, sleek blonde hair tucked behind her ear, legs crossed in that power-hungry way that made your thighs press tight under the table. She wore a fitted navy blazer over a crisp white blouse, but you couldn’t stop staring at the way her slacks hugged her thighs. Her voice — low, smooth, so calm while she spoke — sent heat pooling between your legs with every bored sigh she gave.

You kept shifting in your seat, trying to hide how slick your panties were getting.

And Alex noticed.

She didn’t say a word. Didn’t even look at you. Just leaned in slightly and whispered without looking:

“If you keep squirming like that, I’m going to take you somewhere and shut you up with my cock.”

Your breath caught. You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t.

The moment the meeting ended, she stood up, tugged your chair back with one hand — and before you could even think, she had you by the wrist, dragging you out of the room.

The courthouse stairwell was cold, quiet, dimly lit. The sound of your heels clicking off the tile echoed too loudly. Alex didn’t give you time to be nervous. She pushed you back against the wall with a thud and stared down at you with that smirk that made your knees wobble.

“You couldn’t wait, could you?” she murmured, already unbuckling her belt with one hand. “Could barely keep those pretty thighs still while I talked.”

You flushed so hard your skin burned.

Alex shoved her slacks down just far enough, and your eyes dropped instantly.

Her cock sprang free — thick, flushed, heavy, already hard from the way you’d been fidgeting all meeting long. Veins bulged along the shaft, her cockhead leaking just slightly, glistening in the stairwell’s harsh lighting. She stroked it once, slow and deliberate.

“You want this?” she asked. Her voice was low, almost cruel.

You nodded quickly, lips parted, breath shaky. “Please…”

She chuckled.

“Knees. Now.”

You dropped instantly, your pencil skirt riding up your thighs as you knelt on the cold concrete. You hesitated for just a second — cheeks flushed, eyes wide — before leaning forward, mouth parting eagerly.

The first taste of her cock made you moan. Salty and thick, the weight of it pressing down your tongue was almost too much. But god, you wanted it. Needed it. You pressed forward, inch by inch, until your lips met the base and your nose brushed her neatly trimmed hair.

Alex hissed above you. One hand went straight to your scalp, gripping a fistful of your hair. “That’s it,” she groaned. “That’s my sweet little freak. Knew you’d choke on it like you were made for this.”

You gagged softly as she rocked her hips forward, fucking your throat slow and deep. Your hands clung to her thighs for balance, nails digging into the fine wool of her slacks. Drool spilled from your lips, your mascara smudging again as you looked up at her — begging with your eyes even as your mouth was full.

“You’re so fucking needy,” she muttered, tightening her grip and thrusting just a little harder. “Can’t even get through a meeting without needing to get used.”

You whimpered around her, hollowing your cheeks, moaning when she twitched in your mouth.

“Gonna cum,” she growled suddenly. “Don’t spill a drop.”

You braced for it — and then her cock pulsed hard on your tongue, thick ropes of cum spilling straight down your throat. You swallowed most of it instantly, greedy and desperate, the rest leaking from the corners of your mouth as she held you there. Her thighs trembled just slightly under your hands, and you didn’t stop sucking until she was completely spent.

When she pulled out, slowly, you were a mess.

Hair ruined, chin glistening, eyes glassy.

She smirked and wiped her thumb across your lips. “That’s what you wanted, huh? My shy little best friend, cock-drunk in a courthouse stairwell.”

You swallowed the last of it, still on your knees, and whispered, “Yes, ma’am.”

You were still on your knees, flushed and breathless, her cum warm in your throat, when Alex hauled you up by the arm like you weighed nothing. Her strength always made you weak — how easily she manhandled you despite your trembling limbs and how she never even looked rattled.

“You think we’re done?” she murmured, pressing you hard against the stairwell railing, one hand already sliding up your thigh beneath your skirt. “You suck my cock like that and expect me not to fuck you stupid?”

Your knees buckled the second her fingers reached your soaked panties.

“Christ,” she muttered darkly, running two fingers over the drenched fabric. “You’re dripping, baby. All that from sucking me off?”

You whimpered, nodding. Her lips curved into something wicked.

With one swift tug, she yanked your panties down — not even bothering to be gentle. The soft cotton tore at the waistband before sliding down your thighs and pooling at your ankles. She didn’t give you time to catch your breath before she bent you over the cold railing, your cheek pressing to the metal bar.

You felt exposed, completely on display in the echoing stairwell with your skirt hiked up around your waist and your pussy slick and swollen for her. The air hit your soaked folds, your arousal clinging in strings between your thighs.

“Look at this pussy,” she groaned, dragging her cock through your folds from behind, smearing your arousal across her length. “All wet and open for me. So desperate to get filled like a filthy little fuckdoll.”

You whimpered something weak — maybe a plea, maybe just a sob.

And then she pushed in.

Her cock stretched you open inch by thick inch, your cunt swallowing her greedily. The pressure was overwhelming — the slow, relentless push of her filling you so deep, so thick it made your eyes roll back.

“Oh my God, Alex—” you cried out, voice barely more than a whisper.

She grunted low, hands locking around your waist as she bottomed out inside you. “That’s right,” she growled. “Take it. Take my cock like the pretty little hole you are.”

She set a brutal rhythm, fucking into you with hard, deep strokes that made your thighs tremble with each impact. The stairwell echoed with the wet slap of skin on skin, the squelch of your soaked cunt wrapped around her cock.

“Feel that?” she rasped, one hand reaching around to grab a fistful of your breast, squeezing hard. “You’re so full of me it’s obscene. Bet you’re gonna cum just from being used.”

Her hand slid up your shirt, yanking down your bra until your tits bounced freely with each thrust. She pinched your nipple, rolled it between her fingers, and kept slamming into you from behind — deeper, rougher, rutting like she couldn’t help herself.

You were already close — so, so close — your pussy fluttering around her cock, gushing down your thighs, your mouth slack and open as you tried to breathe.

And Alex felt it.

“Oh, you’re gonna cum, aren’t you?” she panted, voice feral now. “You gonna make a mess on my cock like the needy little cumslut you are?”

You nodded frantically. “Please, please, Alex—please—”

She leaned over your back, her mouth hot against your ear. “Cum for me.”

That was all it took.

You shattered around her, your whole body jerking against the railing as your orgasm hit hard. You cried out, clamping down on her cock, soaking her as she fucked you through it, not slowing down for a second.

“Fuck—fuck—gonna fill you up,” she growled.

She grabbed your hips tight, slammed in one last time, and then she was spilling inside you — thick, hot, endless pulses of cum painting your walls. You could feel it, her cock throbbing deep in your cunt, her seed pouring into your already overstimulated body.

Neither of you moved for a long moment — both panting, dripping, your thighs slick with her cum and your own.

Finally, Alex pulled back just enough to watch it leak from your pussy, thick and messy.

“Look at that,” she murmured, smug and breathless. “You’re full. Just like you begged to be.”

And you? You nodded, cheeks still burning, thighs trembling — eyes wide and blissed out.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

She smirked, kissed your shoulder, and tucked herself back into her slacks like it was just another day.

You stood there trembling, your thighs sticky and your pussy still fluttering from the aftershocks, while Alex calmly tucked her cock back into her slacks, fastened her belt, and adjusted her blazer like she hadn’t just ruined you in a public stairwell.

You stayed bent over a moment longer, legs weak, your pussy still dripping her cum in slow, warm rivulets down your thighs. When you finally straightened, your hands immediately fluttered to your wrinkled skirt and disheveled blouse — frantically smoothing everything down, tugging the hem straight, trying to gather what was left of your dignity.

Alex leaned casually against the railing, watching you with an amused, lazy smirk like you were her favorite form of entertainment.

“You really think you can fix that shy little outfit after what I did to you?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow. “Baby, your legs are still shaking.”

You flushed crimson, keeping your eyes down as you tried to swipe the cum off your inner thighs with a useless tissue from your purse. It didn’t help. You could still feel her inside you — the soreness, the fullness, the raw heat of it all lingering like a dirty secret between your thighs.

You swallowed hard and whispered, “I just… I don’t want anyone to know…”

Alex laughed, low and wicked. “Oh, sweetheart. Everyone’s gonna know the second you walk past them with that fucked-out look on your face.”

You looked at her, eyes wide, panic creeping into your features.

She softened just slightly — not apologetic, never that, but fond.

“Relax,” she murmured, stepping in and tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “You still look like my sweet little best friend. No one would ever guess that mouth was just choking on my cock.”

You whimpered and turned your face away, cheeks burning.

She grinned.

As you both started walking back toward her office, you stayed half a step behind, lips pressed tightly together, eyes glued to the floor like a guilty schoolgirl.

Alex, on the other hand, moved like she always did — powerful, unbothered, exuding that effortless authority with every click of her heels. She shot you a sidelong glance, smirking like the cat who’d not only caught the canary but made it beg.

“You know,” she murmured as you turned the corner into the hallway, “I do love watching you pretend to be shy again.”

You glanced at her nervously, but said nothing — too flustered to respond.

She leaned in closer as you reached her door.

“Maybe I’ll bend you over the desk next time,” she whispered, brushing her fingers down your back. “See how quiet you can stay then.”

You barely bit back a whimper.

She opened the door and stepped inside, looking every bit the composed attorney. You followed her in, still flushed, still aching, your panties balled up in your purse and her cum still dripping slowly between your legs.

And she smiled like none of it had even happened.

taglist: @m-1234-5, @frozengenderfluid, @archetype-d

[nicotinebliss]

ᯓ★ ADOPTING A PET ★ᯓ

you thought you’d be co-parenting a dog… turns out, you're building a life.

ada alex cabot

girlfriend reader

headcanons

NAVIGATION

The Decision:

Alex is very pragmatic and busy, so the idea of adopting a pet doesn’t come out of nowhere — it starts as a passing conversation one night when you're curled up on her couch after a long day.

You're watching some feel-good documentary about rescued animals, and you offhandedly say, “God, I’d love to adopt one someday.” You don’t even think she’s listening until she murmurs, “We could. If we found the right one.”

She surprises you by bringing it up again a week later, coffee in one hand, case files in the other. “There’s a shelter near my office. We could just… look.”

Alex insists it be a rescue. “Too many get overlooked.” She says it firmly, but there’s emotion behind it. She doesn’t like injustice in any form — not even when it comes to animals.

The Search:

She's meticulous, of course. You make a spreadsheet (half as a joke), but she takes it completely seriously. Size, temperament, age, energy level — she wants to be sure you're both capable of giving this animal a good life.

She’s drawn to the older dogs/cats at first — the ones with cloudy eyes and greying snouts — and she can’t hide how soft she gets when one curls into her lap like it’s already chosen her.

You try to get her to hold a hyper little puppy at one point just to see her squirm. She tries to stay composed, but the moment it licks her face, she breaks into the most gorgeous, unguarded laugh. “Okay, that’s illegal,” you say. “You can’t be hot and adorable.”

You both end up falling in love with a shy, scrappy mutt that hides behind a kennel door — a little rough around the edges but clearly just scared. “Reminds me of you,” she teases, brushing your arm. “A little bitey until you feel safe.”

The Adjustment:

Alex prepares like it’s a court case. Researches food brands, behavioural training techniques, schedules vet visits, makes an intake plan. She buys way too many toys and doesn’t realize it until you’re tripping over a stuffed duck.

The first night, the dog whines in the middle of the night and she’s out of bed before you. “No, stay. I’ve got it,” she says, already slipping on her robe and heading for the living room.

You find them asleep on the couch together the next morning — her in her robe, the dog sprawled over her lap, her hand resting protectively on its back.

Work & Responsibility:

She’s fiercely committed to making sure the dog isn’t left alone for long stretches. She arranges her court schedule to come home midday. Sometimes, she even brings the pup to the office (when it’s quiet) and lets it sleep under her desk.

If she has late depositions or hearings, you’re the designated bedtime cuddler — but you start sending her photos of you and the dog cuddling, which she definitely does not show anyone at work except maybe Olivia Benson.

You overhear her calling the dog “our baby” when she’s talking to a colleague, and your chest almost explodes with love.

Emotional Impact:

The dog quickly becomes the softest part of your lives together — the constant in between court dates, late nights, bad news, and cold winters.

When Alex has a bad day, she doesn’t even speak — she just lies on the floor and lets the dog clamber over her. It grounds her in a way nothing else does.

You catch her once, whispering something to the dog about how she never thought she’d have a home like this. You’re in the doorway, and she pretends she didn’t say it. But her eyes say everything.

Bonus Headcanons:

The dog is obsessed with you, but protective of Alex. It barks at anyone who even raises their voice near her.

You jokingly buy your dog a little blue necktie to match Alex’s courtroom outfits. She glares at you, but she secretly makes it the dog’s official "court day" collar.

You have a family photo taken — the three of you — and Alex keeps a copy in her office, tucked discreetly behind her diplomas.

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Alex Cabot x Casey Novak x Reader SFW Fluff Alphabet

Big thanks to to @scealaiscoite for their SFW Poly Fluff Alphabet for the inspiration here!

a = affection Is anyone more overtly affectionate than the others? You are definitely the most outwardly affectionate. Not in a PDA sense, you just tend to be the most sentimental. You don't initiate physical touch a whole lot, but Alex and Casey both know you are down to cuddle at any time, and they take advantage of it often. Alex is the snugglier of the two, but Casey gets FOMO when you snuggle without her, so she'll jump in, too. b = bed What's the sleeping situation like? California King (no twin bed! no roommates!). Casey on the right, Alex on the left. You are forever the middle spoon because (a) you love it, (b) you're by far the smallest, and (c) both Casey and Alex can feel a bit smothered after a whole night of middle spoon-ing. c = comfort When someone's feeling down, how do the others look after them? When you're down, your self-esteem takes a hard hit, so Alex and Casey do their best to be extra reassuring. When Alex is down, you and Casey do your best to make her feel important and to distract her. Nice clothes, expensive dinner, all your attention all night. When Casey's down, she needs to take a fucking break. The problem is that she never wants to. You and Alex usually have to take her phone and laptop away and force her to relax. Bubble bath, takeout, snuggles, the works.

d = dates What do dates look like? Who usually plans them, and are they individual or a group affair? You take turns planning, but also enjoy the occasional spontaneous date. Everyone is always invited, but not everyone always goes. You have lots of things you like to do all together, like dinner and a movie or a weekend at the beach or a trip to the farmer's market. But there are things you do in pairs, too. For example, you and Alex love classical music, so you've got season tickets to the NY Phil, but Casey's ears would explode if you made her go. Alex will attend a sports event with you and Casey once in a blue moon, but mostly it's just you two. Alex and Casey love dancing, from ballroom to clubbing and everything in between. You are a truly awful dancer and have a really hard time in loud, crowded environments, so you usually send them on their way and enjoy an evening to yourself.

e = events Who drags everyone else to their family's and friends' events? When it comes to family, you do all the dragging. Casey's parents live in the city, so you see them at least a few times a month, and Alex doesn't talk to her dad (her mom died when she was 17). You're very close to your family, and you're the only one who has siblings and nieces and nephews. Christmas at your family's is a given, and Alex and Casey are 100% there for it. But friend events? Those are all Casey. Alex will drag you to one, too, mostly out of obligation, but Casey genuinely enjoys going out and grabbing drinks with friends and will convince you both to go with her sometimes.

f = fights Are fights something that happen often? How are they resolved? Of course you fight. Everyone fights. But the fights are usually civil and logical and respectful. You've got twice as many relationships to maintain in a triad, so direct communication is a priority for you all. Casey and Alex have had to learn how to tone down their "lawyer-ness" during arguments, though. At first, they'd sometimes fight you so hard–like they were in court–that they'd end up making you cry. They always felt awful and backpedaled real quick. They're a lot gentler with conflicts now.

g - getting together How did you all get together? Alex and Casey met at work, a slow-burn career romance. By the time you came along, they'd already been together for several years. They'd discussed polyamory before and, while neither was necessarily opposed, neither one of them had anyone else they wanted to date either. So it was very much a we'll cross that bridge when we come to it situation. They came to the bridge when you moved to the city and joined Casey's rec softball league. It was Casey who fell for you first, Casey who started inviting you out to lunch with her and Alex after softball games, Casey who cautiously, gently asked Alex how she'd feel about her dating you. To which Alex said, Yeah, of course, if it'll make you happy. But I think I kind of want to date her, too. Can we all date? Do you think she'd be into that? It turns out that, yes, you were into that.

h = hobbies Do any of you share hobbies or passions? How do you include your other partner(s) in them? There's a foundational understanding between you that you don't all have to enjoy the same things. You and Alex share a deep love of reading and often spend evenings on the couch reading together, snuggled up against Casey as she plays video games or watches sports. You and Casey play softball together, and you love watching sports–baseball, basketball, football, you name it. Alex will watch with you, but she's mostly in it for the game day snacks you make. And obviously Casey and Alex have a whole career/calling in common, so they talk about that a lot, but they always try to make sure you're included in the conversation, and make sure to explain patiently when you have questions.

i = in sickness and in health When someone is sick, who's the caretaker and who's the germaphobe? Who's resistant to being taken care of? It depends on what kind of sick. If puking is involved, Alex and Casey are on their own. You are out of there, probably staying in a hotel, leaving soup deliveries outside the door with a mask on. Any other kind of sickness, and you absolutely dote on them. Casey eats this up. She is a pitiful sick person. Alex, on the other hand, will keep going until she literally can't anymore. And even then she'll tell you she's fine, and you have to force her to rest and take it easy. You can't exactly talk, you're pretty resistant to being taken care of, too. But that's mostly because Casey and Alex have important jobs to do, and you don't want to distract them.

j = joker Who's got the best sense of humor? Do you all like to tease and banter? You are by far the funniest of the three of you. You love making Alex and Casey laugh. It's one of the highlights of your life. Their jobs are so serious; they can tend to be on the serious side, too. So you make it your mission to brighten their days. That being said, there's a lot of good-natured teasing and insulting that happens on a regular basis. Casey calls you asshole more than she calls you anything else, probably. Alex has a razor sharp wit which is mostly funny, but every once in a while she'll toe the line between funny and mean. She can immediately tell when she's taken it too far, though, and is quick to make it up to you.

k = knowing Who can read their partners like a book? Is there anyone who has their walls up, even around their partners? By nature of being incredibly intuitive, you are the best at reading emotions. The problem is that you can usually tell what they're feeling but not why or who it's related to, so you almost always think it's somehow your fault. You're working on that one in therapy. Oddly, you're probably also the hardest to read. You have walls up, though they're slowly coming down. And Casey and Alex can have tunnel vision when it comes to work, so sometimes they miss things. Of the two of them, Casey is the more open with her emotions. Alex is open with anger and anger only. She's working very hard on being open with her other feelings, too.

l = lavish Is there anyone who really likes to lavish and show off their partners? How do the others react to it? Alex. Alex all the way. She's proud of herself, proud of the work she does, and proud of having not one but two stunning girlfriends. She dresses you and Casey up to the nines in clothes it would have taken you years to afford. When she walks into a room with you in a tailored Valentino suit on one arm and Casey in a designer gown on the other, she just knows everyone's jealous that she's living the best of both worlds. Since neither you nor Casey came from money, you both had a hard time with Alex's generosity at first, but you came to accept that showing you off is just Alex's way of telling you how proud she is of you and how happy she is that you're hers.

m = memories Is anyone more on the sentimental side? You, 100%. Although Casey and Alex have their moments, too. But you're the one who packs lunches with little loves notes. You're the one who surprises them with flowers at work, who cooks their favorite dinner because you know they had a bad day. You'll pick up that book that Alex wants so bad, but doesn't have time to go get. You'll record the Giants game instead of watching it while Casey's at work because you know she'd rather watch it together later. Of course, they do sweet things for you, too. Like Alex asking you to read your favorite book to her because she wants to read it with you. Or Casey organizing a game night with the SVU folks at your house, because she knows you want to hang out with them, too, you're just much more comfortable at home. You all have your moments, but they'd both agree that sentimentality just comes so, so naturally to you. It's a gift.

n = nights What's the nighttime routine like when you're all together? You are a big, big fan of parallel play so, even though you usually like to quietly read a book before bed, you want to do it wherever Alex and Casey are. Alex spends an eternity in the bathroom on her skin care routine before putting on the softest, most luxurious pajamas. She fixes herself a cup of peppermint tea and curls up next to you with her own book. Casey always has "more work to do," but she'll go through case files while you and Alex read. Or she'll finish the newspaper if she didn't get to that morning. She always has a gigantic, messy collection of file folders, old newspapers, and half-full glasses of water on her nightstand. You almost always fall asleep first, and they don't stay up too much longer because "you're just so adorable" and "I can't pay attention when you look that snug-able!"

o = open How open are you with one another? Very. You don't keep secrets. You don't tell lies. When you first got together, Alex suggested you all lay down "relationship rules." Those were two of the biggest. It sometimes takes longer for you to open up about what you're feeling, but they've learned that it doesn't really have anything to do with how much you trust them, it's just how you process things.

p = PDA What's PDA like with them? Is there anyone who loves it? Anyone who hates it? Alex would full-on make out with you in public, but she knows that's not a good look for someone in her position. Also, you and Casey do not like PDA. Casey will kiss you on the cheek or put a hand on the small of your back at a party, but that's it. You might hold their hands, but you won't do anything else in front of others. Alex won't either unless she feels like someone's infringing on her territory (her territory being you and Casey). Then she gets really possessive and is not afraid to show people that you're hers.

q = quiet Who prefers to spend their time out and about, and who likes to spend it at home? Casey is the most social of you. She loves going out with you or going out with friends. Alex is kind of in the middle. She's very, very good with people and socializes quite a bit, but often out of political obligation (to grease the wheels, so to speak, and make connections) rather than for fun. You are a hardcore homebody. You'll go out with them because you love them, but you're always very excited when you all decide on a night in.

r = romantic Is anyone a bit of a sap for their partners? You. So, so you. You just truly can't believe you lucked out with these two gorgeous, strong, confident, crazy smart women. Oddly enough, both Alex and Casey tend to be more affectionate with you than they are with one another. It's not that they love each other less, but you've got a couple of theories as to why they're just a little more romantic with you. (1) You're much, much smaller than them. Like a full 10 inches shorter. So they sometimes baby you a bit. They think you're very cute. You both love and hate it. (2) They were together first, and then kind of simultaneously fell for you, so you sometimes think they see you as collectively theirs, tag-teaming to take care of you and love you. You don't mind. They're collectively yours, too. (3) You're more sentimental than either of them, so it's easier for them to be sentimental with you than with one another. But, all in all, there's plenty of romance to go around.

s = sharing Is there anyone who's particularly territorial of their partners? ALEX. Very possessive of both of you. Casey's pretty damn possessive of you, too. Less so of Alex, but that's probably because she knows nobody fucks with Alex. You are the least territorial, mostly because you're just glad to be there. It doesn't leave a whole lot of room for jealousy. Just as Alex and Casey did before you came along, you all have an open understanding that if someone else were to come along–for any of you–you'd be okay with one of you pursuing a relationship with someone else, too. But it seems unlikely. You're all deeply content with things as they are now and don't really see yourselves bringing anyone else in.

t = terms of endearment Nicknames! What are the nicknames!? Alex uses honey or my love. Casey uses sweetheart and honey and sometimes baby. You mostly use lovely, which drives both of them wild, and also honey on occasion.

u = urge Who's the most impulsive? And who reins them back in? None of you are very impulsive. You think things through before acting. But of the three of you, Alex is probably the one who lets her emotions get the best of her, which can sometimes get her into hot water. Both Casey's and Alex's emotions (and impulses to do something brave and stupid) run high during hard cases. Thankfully, you're usually there to talk them out of it.

v = vacations How do vacations go? And where do you travel? You do vacations big. Alex has a lot of money, and you all love traveling. Alex considers it her absolute joy to make you and Casey's travel dreams come true, because she knows you didn't grow up with the kind of money to make them happen. She whisks you away on far-flung vacations as often as she can. An even bigger test of her love: she'll go camping with you because Casey loves it so much. But only with the highest end camping gear. And she will not touch a fish or a fishing pole, but she'll sit in a chair and read with you while you and Casey go fishing. Your favorite vacation so far? A surprise holiday trip to Soneva Jani in the Maldives. You'd always wanted to go to the Maldives, but it was very much a pipe dream. Alex packed for you, and you had no idea where you were going until you boarded the connecting flight to Malé. You were so excited you cried a little. When you stepped into your overwater bungalow, you just couldn't contain your excitement, running around the building, staring out at the crystal blue water, and kissing Casey and Alex over and over again, saying "Thank you thank you thank you thank you!"

w = worthy How are insecurities handled? Are any of you more self-conscious than the others? You're the most self-conscious. Casey and Alex are just so conventionally beautiful and successful and confident. They're smart, powerful, career-driven women and you're... a dorky, tiny, androgynous little work-from-home ad copywriter. Sometimes it's hard to know what they see in you. Alex is almost never insecure because she's cocky as fuck. Unless she screws up at work, and then she needs a lot of reassurance. Casey is insecure in that she's never able to live up to her own standards, so you have to remind her often that she doesn't need to be perfect and she's doing great. Insecurities in your home are always met with love and reassurance, never annoyance or frustration.

x = xoxo Who checks up on their partners a lot when they're apart? Do they call or text? Casey. She'll call to check up on you at least once a day. If you're out of town, she calls you at night, too, right before bed, on speakerphone with her and Alex (or vice versa, if Alex is out of town). Alex misses you, too, but she's more likely to text sporadically throughout the day. You text or call when you see something funny or something that reminds you of them.

y = yearn Who misses their partners the most, even just throughout the day? You really like your alone time, so you miss them but you really like having your space (working from home is great for this). But Casey and Alex miss you. Because you're home so often, when you're not home–out with friends, spending the weekend at your parents', etc.–they almost don't know what to do with themselves. Bonus POV: The Group Chat Casey: babe when are you coming home 😢 💔 😭 💌 😫 Alex: my love I need you here in my arms You: omg chill you guys i've been gone for like 2 hours! Casey: yeah 2 hours 2 long

z = zealous Who was especially eager in pursuit of the relationship? Was anyone more reserved? When it was just Alex and Casey, Alex made the first move. With you, it was Casey who came after you the hardest. Alex was a bit more reserved because she didn't want to make you feel like you had to date her, too. She wanted to be sure that you knew if you just wanted to date Casey and not her, that was okay. but she really did want you. She was trying so hard to be respectful that you eventually had to ask her out. Alex, can we go out sometime? Yeah, I'll see when Casey's free. No, I meant... just me and you. I mean, obviously Casey can come, too, if she wants, but... I'd like to take you out if you'll let me.

[olderwomenenthusiast]

EMILY PRENTISS

UNCOVER AFTERMATH

DESCRIPTION: emily reminds you who you belong to after being undercover

GAME OF POWER

DESCRIPTION: emily finally as her way with you & vice versa

DRINKS, KISSES & THE MORNING AFTER

DESCRIPTION: the tension between emily and you finally snaps

PULLING RANK

DESCRIPTION: emily pulls rank on you during and arguement at home

SPENCER REID

SOUTHERN ACCENT

DESCRIPTION: spencer is fascinated, maybe more than by your southern accent

TELL ME IN THE MORNING

DESCRIPTION: you make sure spencer tells you his confession when he's sober

JEALOUSY & CONFESSION

DESCRIPTION: you speak to jj about your jealousy and in return, encourages you

ALEX CABOT

SHE'S IN CONTROL

DESCRIPTION: you were meant to be focusing on the team's meeting but alex made sure you were only focused on her

LESSON IN CONTROL

DESCRIPTION: alex is in complete control over your body

CALEX

THE CHOICES WE MAKE

DESCRIPTION: casey has to choose between her girlfriend, alex or her new job offer

TOO LATE

DESCRIPTION: casey wants alex but she's too late

MORNING BLISS

DESCRIPTION: casey has her way with alex in bed and in the shower

CASEY NOVAK

UNDER PRESSURE

DESCRIPTION: casey arrives at your house insistent on making you pay

MELISSA SCHEMMENTI

THE GAMES WE PLAY

DESCRIPTION: you and melissa play this game where you constantly mess with each until one day you take it too far

FINALLY GETTING HER ATTENTION

DESCRIPTION: you really want melissa to pay attention to you

[commandermonalisa]

Unspoken Possession

It was well past midnight, but the precinct was still alive with the buzz of activity. Casey leaned casually against Detective Amaro’s desk, going over the finer points of the Lopez case. Amaro was leaning back in his chair, his expression relaxed as he flashed her one of his trademark smiles.

Alex stood just outside Captain Cragen’s office, her icy blue eyes fixed on the scene. The conversation between Casey and Amaro was professional enough, but Alex couldn’t ignore the way Casey’s lips curved when she laughed at one of his jokes, or the way Amaro’s gaze lingered a fraction too long on Casey’s face.

Alex’s fingers tightened around the handle of her briefcase. She knew better than to act on impulse—her reputation was built on control, after all—but this was different. This was Casey, and the simmering jealousy burning in her chest refused to be ignored.

Before she could stop herself, Alex strode across the bullpen, her heels clicking sharply against the tile floor.

“Casey,” she said, her voice smooth and clipped as she came to a stop beside them.

Casey turned, startled. “Alex. I didn’t realize you were still here.”

“I thought I’d check in before leaving,” Alex said, her tone cool but laced with an edge that only Casey seemed to catch. Her gaze flicked briefly to Amaro, then back to Casey. “It seems you’ve been… keeping busy.”

Casey frowned, sensing the shift in Alex’s demeanor. “We were just going over some last-minute details on the Lopez case.”

“Of course you were,” Alex said, her smile sharp and polite as her eyes bore into Casey’s.

Amaro, ever the observant detective, cleared his throat and stood. “I’ll, uh, let you two handle that. Casey, we’ll pick this up tomorrow.”

He walked away quickly, leaving Casey and Alex alone in the suddenly quiet bullpen.

“Was that necessary?” Casey asked, folding her arms across her chest as she stared at Alex.

Alex tilted her head, her expression unreadable. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Casey sighed, running a hand through her hair. “You practically scared Amaro off. And don’t tell me it’s nothing—this isn’t the first time you’ve done this.”

Alex stepped closer, her confidence radiating as she closed the distance between them. She stopped just shy of Casey, her voice dropping to a low, almost predatory tone. “Maybe I don’t like watching other people flirt with you.”

Casey blinked, caught off guard by Alex’s bluntness. “Amaro wasn’t flirting—”

“Yes, he was,” Alex interrupted, her blue eyes smoldering as they locked onto Casey’s. “And you let him.”

Casey felt her pulse quicken, a familiar heat creeping up her neck. Alex’s intensity was both infuriating and intoxicating, and the way she was looking at her now made it impossible to think straight.

“I can’t control how people talk to me,” Casey said, her voice faltering slightly under Alex’s gaze.

“No,” Alex agreed, stepping even closer. “But you can control how you respond.”

Casey’s breath hitched. The tension between them was palpable now, the air thick with unspoken desire. Alex’s eyes flicked down to Casey’s lips, and for a moment, Casey thought she might actually close the distance between them.

“You’re jealous,” Casey said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Alex smirked, her confidence unwavering. “Maybe I am.”

Casey swallowed hard, her cheeks flushing as Alex’s gaze held her captive. “You don’t have to be.”

“Don’t I?” Alex asked, her voice a low purr. She reached out, her fingers brushing a strand of hair from Casey’s face, her touch lingering just enough to send a shiver down Casey’s spine.

“You think I don’t notice the way people look at you? The way they try to get closer to you?” Alex’s lips curved into a faint smile, but her eyes burned with intensity. “It’s maddening.”

Casey exhaled shakily, her resolve crumbling under Alex’s touch. “Alex…”

Alex tilted her head, her hand sliding down to rest lightly on Casey’s arm. “Tell me I’m wrong,” she said softly. “Tell me you don’t feel the same fire I do.”

Casey couldn’t. The words were stuck in her throat, drowned out by the pounding of her heart. Instead, she stepped closer, her body drawn to Alex’s like a magnet.

Alex’s smile deepened, her confidence unshaken. “That’s what I thought.”

She leaned in, her lips brushing just faintly against Casey’s ear as she whispered, “You’re mine, Novak. Don’t forget that.”

The words sent a jolt of heat through Casey, leaving her breathless and trembling. By the time Alex pulled back, her smirk firmly in place, Casey was left with nothing but the lingering warmth of her touch and the unmistakable desire burning between them.

[wandasaura]

WHERES THE BAR

summary — you’re taking the bar exam tomorrow, but you’re not sure which bar is set higher, the law exam, or alex’s unwavering love

warning(s) — established relationship, soft alex cabot, domestic fluff, law school, studying, pet names, love drunk idiots, sensual undressing?, open mouth kissing, fingering, slight teasing, pet names, alex just wants to celebrate you before the big day, slight elements of a potential dom/sub dynamic if you squint, casey novak mention because i miss her, domestic bliss, fluff fluff fluff, men/minors dni

authors note — álex cabot returns in what was meant to be a sweet fluffy drabble. enjoy :)

Your office light is dim, but the wading glow splashes enough brightness onto your documents for you to read them over thoroughly. You’ve been here for hours, there’s a stack behind you that you’ve already read, answered every question Alex painstakingly scratched onto flash cards, and then went through the questions your professor suggested familiarizing yourself with. You had every hour planned out to the exact second leading up to tomorrow afternoon at precisely 13:10.. This has been the last five years of your life. This is what you’d turned down date nights for, what you’d isolated yourself to prioritize when it felt impossible to be a Detective by day and a law student by night with any kind of social life or emotional depth. Those sacrifices had to be worth something, or years of your life with Alex had been wasted for nothing.

Alex. Her face appears in your mind, though maybe the image of her in gentle lilac is so vivid because the picture of her curled up and stunning wearing the color in her tank top sits on the corner of your desk, alongside a plastic ring that she’d won for you when a prize machine ended up at the corner of the crossing in front of the courthouse after a semi and a taxi collided. You’d been dating two weeks when she’d gave you the ring, incessantly assuring she wasn’t crazy enough to propose with plastic after knowing you a fortnight, but radiant to tell you simply that she’d seen the machine and thought of you. It might’ve just been the biggest compliment of your life to know that just loving you had her acting like a kid, searching for quarters in her bag that was overflowing with sensitive, classified, lawyer information. When you’d told her years later that you were going to go back to school, get your law degree, make the switch from Detective to ADA, she hadn’t looked at you with concern or disbelief, she hadn’t been annoyed you were blazing a trail into her career path, she was the first person to take your hand and lead you to the way. You wanted to pass for her; you had to pass for her. You didn’t want to let her down anymore than you wanted to let yourself down.

You had everything planned out. Benson let you out early, you’d grabbed lunch from the bodega Alex had turned you onto during your first year of law school for good luck, and then you’d gone back to your apartment to study. Alex had come home four hours into your final study session, you’d heard her shoes before her voice, and you knew that’s how she had a good day. On the days where Alex crept through the apartment on bare feet, biting her lip in anticipation, you know that by some miracle all her cards have aligned and she’s buzzing. When she’s pissed, annoyed that people are ignorant and the law is stupid sometimes, she bellows for you eagerly, like she’s pained to know you're finally so close by willingly so far. You hadn’t accounted for that in your schedule admittedly, she’d been having a hard go at things, but you welcomed her positive energy that got you through the next two hours. She made dinner around ten, frozen pizza and cherry sparkling water because she’d spotted it through the window of the Aldi you frequented and thought it would make a good treat instead of your typical wine. You had another six or so hours ahead of you. You’d accounted for it taking eight, just to give yourself some cushion if you did manage to keep on task and steal a few hours of sleep beforehand, but regardless, if you went to sleep at six, you’d be able to get six by noontime, and that was assuredly more than enough time to zap your brain with cold water from the shower, grab a banana, and make your way to the courthouse with only the flashcards you thought my calm you in your pocket. Maybe you were a fool to plan for self-assuredness tomorrow, this was one of the biggest tests of your life, sneezing at the wrong time could cost you the honor of passing, but somehow, you just knew that wouldn’t happen. Alex had beaten it into you that you have to have your own back, because friends turn to enemies in the DA’s office faster than cops and detectives can transfer stations. You remember the tragic tale of some of your other ADA’s and the defenses you’ve crossed paths with, you hate the legitimacy of her warning, but it's one that you’ve already let sink in and accepted. You can do this, because if you tell yourself you can’t, you're the first enemy in the field.

“Baby, come to bed.” Alex is perched against the doorframe of your office. You never close the door, there’s no reason to. The loudest thing Alexandra Cabot does when she knows you’re studying is get surprised by a sneeze and not have time to stifle it into her elbow, and then she shouts an apology before the apartment goes dull. Sometimes you leave it open to draw her in, convince her to spend a couple minutes with you in a bubble, though the l whole ‘ulterior motives’ thing is futile when the door never gets closed. You’re not even sure if the hinges squeak, the front doors do, but you’ve never bothered to fix it because it makes Alex smile when she stumbles in drunk at midnight after rounds with Olivia or, sparingly, Casey. “You’ll know just as much as you do tonight tomorrow morning even if you don’t read everything over right now.” She tries to persuade you, and you hate that she’s succeeding as you glance up at her, straining the muscles in your neck in the opposite direction that you’d previously had them tilted in.

“It still can’t hurt to look at everything again, Lex.” You smile fondly, biting down on the butt of your highlighter. It’s pink, slowly drying up after two years of constant use. It’s from Alex’s desk at the courthouse. Stolen straight from her jar of highlighters and pens that she keeps meticulously arranged in a rainbow.

Alex huffs, stomping into your office. The plate from dinner that she brought up is sitting on an empty slot in your bookshelf, far away from the notes that you’ve tediously taken and perfected over the last handful of years. She pulls your chair back, her hands grabbing yours and pulling them until you are standing on your feet in front of her. “I want to show my girlfriend a little support, so if you wouldn’t mind, would you get your ass in bed so I can do that? She’s got a big day tomorrow.”

Your eyes sparkle, because what in the world is she doing right now standing in front of you in her pajamas that are wrinkled and disheveled from however she was sprawled out in bed, probably rolling from side to side trying to keep herself from coming to get you as the hours ticked later and later. This wasn’t just an exciting day for you, it was an exciting day for her. She remembers the morning of her bar vividly, and though she’d been stressed out of her mind and crying, she says it was liberating to have the reassurance of all those endless years paying off. She says she can’t wait to see you afterwards. To know that she’s dating a lawyer. An aspiring ADA.

You pretend to consider it for a moment, your head falling to the side again, your eyes glancing at your piles of papers longingly. In truth, you know that you’re prepared and the longer you sit up here reminding yourself of things you already know, you’re getting bored, restless, annoyed. It’s all weighing on you now, and the weight of it all being over tomorrow somehow feels worse than it did when you’d thought about being done all those years ago. “Hm, okay.” You hum, pressing up to kiss her sweetly. Alex’s arms link around your waist, pulling you into her chest until the beat of your hearts hammered out of sync.

Alex smiled when she pulled away, her teeth hooked into your bottom lip until she let go, giggling softly when it popped against your upper lip, your eyes hooded in lust filled amusement as she teasingly worked you up without missing a beat. “Well, let’s get you to bed then.” She sang, grabbing your hand and pulling you out of the office, your bedroom was directly adjacent, and her footsteps only padded four and a half times before she was at the foot of your shared bed, reaching for the pajamas she’d evidently fished out of the drawers for you in preparation of interrupting your studying. In all your years, you’d never seen Alex this set on having your attention for yourself. It was cute.

”Let me help you with that.” Alex husked, her breath fanning across your shoulder as she stepped up to help you out of your sweats. You’d changed once you’d gotten home. Put on some sweatpants with cuffs at the ankles because you hated when the fabric fell over your toes, and a t-shirt that she’d apparently purchased from a tourist trap in Rome.

You shivered when Alex guided your arms above your head, her fingertips trailing down slowly from your wrists, past your elbows, over your shoulders, and down each side of your torso until her blunt nails could curl into the soft fabric and pull it upwards. Goosebumps were left in the wake of her tantalizing trail, spreading across your body before they shot through your core. “I love how you sound when I get you like this.” She whispered truthfully, stepping closer behind you while her fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your sweats. She didn’t waste time with the haphazardly tied string around your waist, tucked into the fabric of your sweats and hanging against your thigh. Every muscle in your lower body was tense with anticipation, itching for relief that she was keeping out of reach.

“Alex, please.” You whined, your head thrown back, resting on her shoulder. Your eyes fluttered closed, and Alex smiled fondly at the sight of you so content. Her lips kissed your forehead, her finger sweeping through your folds, collecting moisture that had collected just from when she’d asked you to come to bed the first time. It was embarrassing how easy you were for her, how she didn’t have to do anything and you’d be willing to eat out of the palm of her hand.

“I can take you right here. You can let me hold you while I make you cum, or, I can lay you down, baby. Which one?” Alex left a trail of open mouth kisses against your neck, her teeth nipping at the sensitive skin of your neck until you whimpered, your hands grappling to grasp at her soft shorts until she laughed and relented, dipping a finger into your core until your warmth swallowed her all the way up to the second knuckle. She crooked her finger, eliciting a gasp to tumble off your lip as she found that sweet spot inside of you. “What’s it gonna be, sweetheart? The bed or right here?” She slowly eased and applied pressure, rocking her heel into your clit, and then another finger was pressing into you, pulling out and dipping in, twisting and turning until it was slotted into your cunt beside the other. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

“Alex,” You moaned, your head turning until you could bury your face in her shoulder, gnawing at the exposed skin of her arms.

“I know you can listen better than this, sweetheart. I asked you a question, I need your answer.” She cooed, kissing your lips when your head twitched at a particularly deep trust of her combined fingers, she combed over that spot inside of you, her thumb ghosting over your clit. You weren’t going to last like this. Not when you could feel the exhaustion creeping up on you, not when she knew your body so well, not when she was working you up so sweetly with her words.

“Right here, Alex, please.” You sighed, breath hitching when her thumb fell onto your clit in an earned reward. “Oh, my god. Right there, please, oh—!” Alex giggled softly, gripping your hip in one hand while her other continued to provoke soft squelching sounds, your arousal collecting on her palm.

”That’s it, come on. Cum for me, come on, there we go. Good girl, good girl.” She cooed, working her fingers until your thighs begun to shake and you grabbed at her wrist desperately, she kissed your cheek, easing her hand out of you softly, though you still felt every groove of her knuckles as they scraped across your sensitive walls.

Alex admired the stringy evidence of your love left on her fingers as the dim light of the lamp on your nightstand glowed enough for her to see, and you rolled your eyes at her smug state, wondering how you’d gotten so lucky as to find her on a whim. She licked her fingers clean, and you shoved her away from you. Alex laughed loudly, knowing how that simple act deeply disturbed you unless she settled it with a round between your thighs. That was not in the cars, both of you were exhausted, you needed sleep despite thinking you’d be capable of running on only six hours. Alex knows you better. She knows you’ll be miserable, you’ll curse her out, storm to your exam, probably pass just because you're you, but the guilt of your exhaustion will ruin whatever results come out either way. You’re taking the bar tomorrow, but you’ll never begin to know the material that makes up the test that is Alex Cabot. She’s her own bar exam, you’re her field of expertise.

”Put those on, and get your ass in bed.” Alex rolled her eyes, tapping your ass as she helped you out of your sweatpants and underwear. You tried not to let your surprise show when she brought out a rag, wiping softly between your legs before you helped you into a new pair and some shorts. You couldn’t sleep in pants, and somewhere in your relationship, that had transferred to Alex. Now, you’re not sure there's a single pair of pajama pants in your wardrobe at all.

“Mm, go brush your teeth.” You leaned up to kiss her, and Alex giggled, taking your hand and leading you out to the bathroom in the hallway. Her office was by the front door, every room in the apartment filled and utilized to some capacity, and while it made storage hard, there was never anywhere to put something new without getting rid of what already exists in the space, it feels incredibly homey, like you’ve truly built something spectacular together.

You follow her, because you have to do so as well, but you let her go first, because Alex is a freak and brushes her teeth with warm water and that’s something you can’t condone even if she’s cute with her toothbrush between her teeth trying to convince you it’s much more enjoyable once you get used to it. You’ll never know if she’s right, but she doesn’t hold it over you. Instead, she holds your waist as you take your turn, kissing your neck until the both of you are ready to climb into bed and prepare yourself for what tomorrow holds. Whatever the outcome is, you know she’ll be there.

“I love you, you’re going to do exceptionally well tomorrow. I’ll be waiting by the doors if Benson doesn’t show up and drag me out.” You grin, cuddling into her chest because you know that’s the truth, you know Benson would assuredly show up and drag Alex away if she thought for a second that their presence would somehow suck the air out of her testing room and disturb the peace you needed to create. She was sad to be losing you, to be watching you go and grow, but she’d be damned if all of your hard work didn’t pay off. That was just the kind of boss she had molded herself into.

“I love you, and I don’t really care what happens tomorrow, as long as you’re out there waiting when I’m done.” You grin when she pecks you, the taste of mint on her lips.

“Well then, I’ll be sure to put up a fight with Liv.” She muses, eyes sparkling. You just love her so.

“Good. Give her hell.”

[storiesofsvu]

The View

Alex Cabot x reader Warnings: language, minor teasing, smut eluded to. This was requested, i think on anon, I'm sure it isn't exactly what you wanted/expected but it's what came from the prompt lol. There will be no part two. A little bit over a drabble

Alex awoke to the sound of the shower dial squeaking, the water rushing from the showerhead slowing from a roar to a slow drip before she heard the curtain rings clanking against the rod. She rolled over to face the bathroom, avoiding the ray of sun streaming directly across her eyeline as she stretched out her body with a soft hum. Her legs shifted under the blankets, high count sheets silky against her naked skin, body slowly awakening to the delicious soreness thanks to the previous nights activities. She glanced at the clock, nearly surprised that you hadn’t decided to wake her to join you in the shower, it was later than she normally slept so she guessed she must have needed the sleep.

The curtain fluttered in the morning breeze, a gust of warm air flowing through the room and Alex couldn’t help the corners of her mouth curving up as it brushed against her bare back and she hugged your pillow tighter, rolling onto her stomach. The scent of your perfume drifted into her senses and her eyes fell shut at the memories she associated with the smell. From the other side of the wall she could hear you quietly humming to yourself, a few words slipping out of your lips every so often and she could picture you swaying your hips to the tune as you worked through your skincare routine. Alex felt the gust of warmth, the humidity of the steam bursting through the room when you opened the door to the bathroom, exiting wrapped only in a towel. Her eyes cracked open just a tad to see you, a spark firing through her body as her eyes traced over yours.

Your towel left little to the imagination, barely long enough to cover your ass, the sides creeping open every time you took a step to expose your thigh. Your hair was pulled up off your face, an attempt to keep it dry while you showered, but she could still see a few strands that had managed to escape, dangling in front of your ears, and the baby hairs at the back of your neck, plastered to your damp skin. More than that she could see a few water droplets trailing down your neck, dripping across your collarbone and her lips formed a smirk as two of them collected on the purple mark in that exact spot she’d left the previous night. You were completely oblivious to her peeping as you crossed through the room, pulling open your dresser to flit through bra and underwear choices for the day, still humming the same tune from earlier. She couldn’t quite see what set you chose from the drawer before you slid it shut, rubbing the towel a little more firmly across your skin before you let it drop, tossing it in the direction of the hamper.

Alex’s eyes roamed over your body, her tongue darting out to wet her lips at both memories of the past and the desire building within her, ideas beginning to spark through her brain of what she wanted to do to you. She admired the curve of your ass as you bent over to step into your panties and this time when a breeze came through the window she couldn’t help but shiver, letting out a small noise. She caught your attention and you turned to face her as you pulled the pale blue lace into place, letting the thong snap against your skin before placing your hands on your hips.

“Can I help you counsellor?” You asked with a smirk on your lips while you watched her gaze settle on your bare chest, pupils dilating as she shifted under the sheets.

“Oh don’t mind me, I’m just enjoying the view.” She replied with her own devilish grin and you chuckled softly.

“Well…” you made a point of doing a slow full turn, letting her take in every inch of your exposed skin, “wish I could say I would put on a show for you, but that usually involves taking off my clothes.”

“Believe me, this is just as good.” Alex’s cheeks tinged pink at the admission and she patted down the duvet to make sure she could see you properly, the grin still on your lips as you picked up the bra.

You slid it up your arms, expertly putting it on, giving Alex an extra little shimmy for your tits to settle in the cups, pushed up a little higher than normal. Your hands raised to your hair, removing the clip and letting it cascade over your shoulders as you shook it out, doing another slow turn for your girlfriend. The corner of your lips curved up at the happy hum she made, the noise almost turning into a growl as you turned to face her again, this time prowling toward the bed.

“Did you know that’s my favourite set of yours?” She asked, pushing herself up to sitting on the bed, letting the duvet fall from her body, no doubt in an attempt to distract you.

“I do now.” You smiled softly, dropping onto the bed to straddle her lap, your hands coming to cup her cheeks.

“And now….” Her fingers ghosted up your sides, beginning to toy with the clasp, “you’re going to let me take it off of you, right?”

Leaning in, your lips brushed against hers before you laughed softly, “absolutely not.”

“Tease.” She murmured back, surging forward for another kiss.

“We’re meeting Liz for lunch in an hour and you still need to shower.” Your lips pressed a kiss just below her ear, “but in the time being you can keep thinking about all the naughty things you want to do to me and how badly you want to rip this lingerie off my body.” You nipped at her earlobe and she groaned.

“Now you’re just being unfair.”

“You’re the one who kept us up too late last night when you knew we had semi early plans.”

“So I have to schedule our morning sex in now?” She asked with a grin, her blue eyes gazing up at you and you laughed, shifting off her lap to stand but not before cupping her chin and kissing her once more.

“I suppose so.” You sauntered back toward the wardrobe, “now are you going to waste more time watching me get dressed or are you going to jump in the shower and make sure we aren’t late?”

Alex dramatically threw herself back onto the bed with a groan before rolling to the edge of it, “I’ll get in the shower… we can’t leave Liz waiting after all.”

She let out a playful shriek when your arm snaked around her waist, pulling her flush to you and you peppered her bare shoulders and neck with kisses, “I’ll make it up to you tonight, promise.”

“Oh I know you will.” With one last grin, her eyes twinkling with a sense of adoration and maybe even more naughtiness, she finally disappeared into the bathroom, leaving you to get fully dressed, continuing to dance along to the melody in your head.

__________________

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[iwoulddieforher]

masterlist

everything I've written for the (sometimes) happy couple

My AO3 is here

Masterlist for asks: You can find here

↓↓↓

↓↓↓ one shots ↓↓↓

Nadel in mein Herz | angst comfort panic attack whump

Rigid | pure fluff

spin me 'round | dancing fluff

Pondering Temperature | pre-relationship drabble

Mandarin Oranges | married!au

Necktie Negotiations | they just kiss

Gut für Dich | ...fluff?

Birds of a Feather | set in s13, a defends c

Casey cannot speak Latin | gentle whump, kissing

Necessary Sting | body worship, massaging

Homebound (Homeward-bound, Housebound) | 🔞 pent up frustration sex when c vanishes

Sink Down Beneath | 🔞 siren!au

It ain't Love if it Don't Hurt | 🔞 vampire!au

↓↓↓ multi-parters ↓↓↓

🔞 Alex becomes a volunteer at a domestic abuse shelter when her stunts earn her a brief suspension, and one night a woman comes along who troubles her. Contains cabenson & Charlie/Casey

Green Light

-

🔞, includes sex: homicide bureau chief! alex & svu ada casey

(told me ur new man don't make u- what?) That's a Damn Shame

cont of the same premise, except Casey had now been suspended

🔞hurt no comfort with a tw for suicidal ideation & drug usage

Liebmichallee

-

casey novak was being courted by alexandra cabot and it resulted in them sleeping together. alex gets shot, and although she doesn't go into witsec she doesn't ever call casey back- until she turns up as a defense counsel, with perfect timing to see what a wreck casey has turned into.

Softball to the Ribs (Kiss it) ← Casey's perspective

↑↓↑↓

Kiss it (Softball to the Ribs) ← Alex's perspective

Sequel series: Casey and Alex heal, slowly.

She Doesn't Get Out Much

-

🔞 includes drug usage, alex is requested by elliot to go investigate casey's late night activities since being suspended because he is worried about her, and casey fails to understand anything in her haze

Puppydog

prequel: Krystal Loves You

[jareaufiles]

MISMATCHED SOCKS - a.cabot x female reader

PREMISE: A quiet evening takes a chaotic turn when dinner doesn't go as planned, but love, laughter, and a little improvisation turn it into something far better than perfect.

WARNINGS: domestic fluff, established romantic relationship, cozy domestic setting, mild kitchen disaster. features affectionate teasing, tender physical intimacy (cuddling, kissing, forehead kisses), playful language (“sweetheart,” “beautiful”), and romantic emotional vulnerability. sensory descriptions of shared space, physical touch, and comfort through soft, everyday gestures. no explicit sexual content.

WORD COUNT: 1.3K

NAVIGATION

The courthouse steps echoed with the sharp rhythm of Alex Cabot’s heels as she descended them, the weight of the day slowly lifting from her shoulders. The last of the light was fading, casting a golden hue over the glass buildings around her.

It was later than she’d hoped—past six—but still early enough to feel like she was escaping. For once, the office wasn’t holding her hostage. No urgent motions on her desk, no witness calls to prep, and Branch hadn’t followed her out with another list of “quick things” that were never actually quick.

She allowed herself a quiet exhale as she slid into the backseat of a cab and tucked a few loose strands of blonde hair behind her ear. Her phone buzzed in her purse; your name lighting up the screen in a way that always pulled a smile from her, even after the longest days.

“Socks mismatched. Mood romantic. Dinner incoming. Hurry home.”

Attached was a picture of your feet: one sock bright yellow with tiny lemons, the other navy with uneven pink stripes. It was ridiculous. Adorable. So completely you. She remembered when those socks first got mixed in the wash at her place.

Yours with hers.

And how you’d insisted they were soulmates now, just like the two of you. She’d teased you mercilessly, called you a walking misdemeanor. You’d called her a snob with excellent taste. She still had the messages saved.

As the cab weaved through traffic, Alex leaned her head against the cool window and allowed herself—for once—to let go of everything else. Tonight wasn’t for the DA’s office. Tonight was for you.

You, meanwhile, were elbow-deep in kitchen disaster.

It had started well enough. The candles were lit on the table, tall and slightly uneven because you hadn’t trimmed the wicks, and your soft jazz playlist was filling the apartment in a dreamy hum.

You were barefoot except for the mismatched socks, dancing in your favorite oversized hoodie, a glass of wine untouched on the counter. You’d poured it for confidence, not sipping, just to feel a little fancy while you cooked. Tonight mattered.

You wanted everything to be perfect. You’d been looking forward to this for days. Alex coming home before it got dark, her heels off, her hair down, her guard dropped. Just the two of you, no suits, no phone calls, no headlines.

The only thing you hadn’t properly considered was your cooking skills.

You’d lost track of time while FaceTiming a friend to show off your romantic setup, and the garlic bread had been forgotten in the oven. When you finally opened the door, smoke billowed out like a horror movie fog, thick and acrid.

The sauce on the stove had over-reduced into something bitter and blackened, clinging stubbornly to the bottom of the pan, and you—panicked and wide-eyed—grabbed a tea towel and started flapping it at the smoke detector like it was a dragon you could scare away.

The high-pitched wail of the alarm screamed over your jazz, your curses, and the quiet sinking feeling that the night was unraveling faster than you could save it. The windows were flung open. The pasta was ruined. The garlic bread looked like it had been cursed by a witch. And then of course, your front door opened.

“Sweetheart?”

Alex’s voice was unmistakable. Smooth, even, a touch amused even before she saw anything. You froze, mid-flap, turning with the towel still in your hand. Her heels clicked softly across the hardwood as she stepped inside, closing the door behind her, and for a second she just stood there—coat still buttoned, briefcase slung over one shoulder, a single brow arched like she was trying very hard not to laugh.

“Is something on fire,” she asked dryly, “or is this your new signature scent?”

You looked at her helplessly. Hair frizzed from heat and stress, sleeves rolled up, cheeks pink from both panic and embarrassment. “Okay,” you said, trying to summon dignity. “In my defense...”

Her eyes moved slowly from the smoke still drifting from the oven, to the charred remains of the garlic bread, then finally landed on your feet. Her lips twitched. “Lemons and stripes,” she noted, voice warm. “You really were trying.”

You dropped the towel and exhaled like you’d just survived a war. “Dinner’s dead. I tried, I really did. But I killed it. I murdered our meal.”

Alex stepped forward, setting her bag on the table and slipping out of her coat, her eyes never leaving you. She didn’t scold or sigh. She didn’t tease ... too much.

Instead, she walked over and slid her arms around your waist, gently pulling you into her. The kitchen still smelled like burnt garlic, but she didn’t even wrinkle her nose. She just kissed your forehead and rested her chin on top of your head.

“Dinner is replaceable,” she murmured. “You, however, are not.”

You slumped into her, letting the warmth of her presence start to melt the shame clinging to your shoulders. Her perfume was familiar—clean, expensive, subtle, but grounding. You breathed her in. “I smell like incinerated bread and despair.”

She smiled against your hair. “And you’re still beautiful.”

When she finally pulled back, it was with a kiss to your cheek and a practiced, focused look as she reached for her phone. “Alright. Tell me what the original plan was, and I’ll summon a pizza that comes close enough to fool us both.”

You sighed, still a little mortified. “Garlic bread. Roasted tomato sauce. Pasta. Wine.”

“Perfect,” she said, already tapping into an app. “Garlic, tomatoes, carbs. All the food groups. I’ll even let you keep the jazz.”

Twenty minutes later, the apartment had cleared of smoke, but the candles remained. You’d changed into pajamas, just cotton shorts and the same hoodie while Alex had swapped her suit for her silk set, the navy button-down top barely tucked in, sleeves rolled up.

You brought the pizza to the couch, and she brought the wine. It wasn’t what you’d planned, but the moment her bare feet, still cold from the walk home, found yours under the throw blanket, it didn’t matter.

You sat cross-legged on the couch, legs touching, the pizza box warm between you. You both reached for slices like you’d done it a thousand times before. The mood had softened. The laughter was easy. She curled into your side, and you leaned your head on hers, letting the music hum around you like the room itself was exhaling.

Alex took a bite and made a pleased sound, chewing thoughtfully. “I’ll give it an eight.”

“Out of ten?” you asked.

“Out of ‘date nights rescued from the jaws of domestic chaos’? Solid eight. Maybe a nine for presentation.” She nudged your sock-covered foot. “Lemons are classy.”

You smiled and set your slice down, turning a little so you could press a kiss to her temple. “You know… I really wanted tonight to be perfect.”

Alex turned to face you fully, brushing her fingers along your cheekbone. “It is perfect. You tried. You cared. You wore mismatched socks and set off a smoke alarm because you wanted to make me dinner. You think I’d trade that for some overpriced tasting menu uptown?”

You blinked at her, heart twisting in that soft, overwhelming way that always came when she let her walls down. When the prosecutor fell away and you were just hers.

“You’re sappy,” you murmured.

“I’m in love,” she replied simply. “It happens.”

You nestled into her again, tangled under the blanket, the sounds of the city muffled by the soft hush of your apartment. There was sauce on your fingers. Wine on your lips. Her hand on your thigh, warm and steady. And her heartbeat, just under your ear, reminding you that everything you needed was here.

Maybe next time you’d get the garlic bread right. But for tonight, burnt dinner had never felt more worth it.

[spicyschemmenti]

BOSS MOVES ➫ alex cabot

pairing: alex cabot x sassy bimbo!fem!reader

synopsis: you push, she resists but not as much as she should. and when alex finally caves, taking you out under the guise of not taking you out, it’s only a matter of time before she stops pretending she isn’t enjoying every second of it

warnings: implied attracted, power dynamics?? teasing and playful banter, alex and reader drink wine, alex is actually a bigger tease than reader

word count: 2.2k

MASTERLIST ----- JOIN A TAGLIST

The next few days at the office are your personal playground.

Alex does her best to act like nothing happened, like she didn’t throw down fifteen grand just to keep you out of some finance bro’s clutches, like you’re not pressing up against every carefully constructed boundary she’s set.

But you know better. You see it in the way her fingers tense around her pen whenever you lean too close, the way her gaze flickers to your lips when you sip your coffee just a little too slowly, the way she takes exactly two full seconds to respond whenever you call her boss in that particular tone: the one that makes the word feel like something teasing and filthy all at once.

You don’t push too hard. Just enough. Enough to keep her simmering.

You swing by her office under the pretense of needing something trivial. An approval, a signature, a pointless clarification for a report you definitely didn’t need to write in the first place. You drape yourself against the chair across from her desk, stretching just so, letting your blouse ride up the tiniest bit, watching her pointedly not look. When she finally sighs and asks, in that perfectly clipped, exasperated tone, “Do you actually need something, or are you just here to be a menace?” you only grin, tapping your lips like you’re deep in thought.

“Well,” you muse, “you did buy me. Thought I’d check in and see when you’d like to cash in.”

Alex closes her eyes for a brief, prayerful moment. Then, very slowly, she exhales and looks at you. “It’s not a date.”

“Sure, boss,” you say sweetly, ignoring the way her jaw tightens.

But she gives in. Of course, she does.

You pick the restaurant, and of course, it’s expensive. Upscale in a way that’s designed to be subtle—nothing gaudy, nothing over-the-top, just sleek, modern elegance with low lighting and plush seating, the kind of place where the air smells like expensive wine and softly seared steak, where the waiters glide rather than walk. The music is low, a slow, sultry jazz that hums through the space like a whisper against the skin.

You dress the part, naturally. A dress so silky it practically melts over your body, in a deep, rich red that makes you feel like temptation wrapped in fabric. It’s tasteful but barely—delicate straps over your shoulders, a plunging neckline that begs to be noticed, a slit up your thigh just high enough to make sitting a calculated maneuver. Your heels are sharp enough to be weapons, and you’ve slicked your lips in a shade that could kill a weaker woman.

Alex, of course, is devastating in the effortless way that only she can manage. Her suit is black, crisp, tailored just right, clinging to her in all the right places. But it’s the way she wears it that gets you. The way she carries herself, all self-assured authority and quiet confidence, like she could command a room without saying a single word.

And god, her hair? pinned up in a neat, no-nonsense bun that does absolutely nothing to stop your mind from wandering, from lingering on the elegant slope of her neck, on the smooth, tempting skin left exposed.

You catch yourself staring more than once, imagining the marks you could leave there, the way she’d tense, maybe even gasp, if you pressed your lips against that spot just below her ear—

“Enjoying yourself?” Alex’s voice cuts through your thoughts, dry, amused, and you realize, with some mix of embarrassment and delight, that she caught you.

You blink, all innocence, swirling your wine. “Immensely.”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s the tiniest twitch at the corner of her lips, like she’s fighting a smirk.

The waitress comes by then, a perky brunette who practically beams when she looks between the two of you. “Oh my gosh, you two are adorable,” she gushes before either of you can say a word, hands clasped in front of her chest. “Such a stunning couple! Seriously, I love the power suit, and that dress? You guys look like a literal dream together.”

There’s a beat of silence.

You bite your lip, pressing down a grin. Alex just stares at the poor woman, so profoundly unimpressed you think she might actually be reconsidering her entire life’s choices.

The waitress, blissfully oblivious, continues, “Are you celebrating something? An anniversary? Date night?”

Alex exhales through her nose. “It’s not a date.”

You hum, tilting your head. “I did tell you people would talk, boss.”

Alex flicks her gaze to you, dark and warning, but you just sip your wine and flash an ever-so-sweet smile.

“Ohhh,” the waitress coos, clearly misreading the tension, “I see what’s happening here. You’re one of those couples. The ones who pretend it’s not a date even though it clearly is.” She winks conspiratorially at you, leaning in just a bit. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

And with that, she flits off to take another table’s order, leaving you choking back laughter and Alex looking like she’d very much like to commit a minor crime.

You prop your chin on your hand, gazing at her over the candlelit table. “Well, darling,” you tease, voice dripping with amusement, “should we pick out dessert for our definitely-not-a-date date?”

Alex exhales, rubs her temples, and mutters something under her breath that you’re pretty sure is a prayer for patience.

But.

She doesn’t deny it.

And that’s your favorite part of all.

Dinner stretches longer than either of you planned. It starts the way most things with Alex do—controlled, calculated, with her holding herself in that perfectly measured way she always does. But you know how to play the long game.

Wine flows, smooth and rich, and you keep her talking, asking just the right questions, nudging her just enough that she starts to relax. And Alex, for all her resistance, is a little looser after a few glasses in. Her suit jacket is off now, draped over the back of her chair, the first few buttons of her blouse undone like she’s finally allowing herself to breathe.

She leans into your touch more when your fingers brush over hers reaching for the wine bottle, doesn’t immediately pull away when your knees bump under the table. And best of all? She flirts back.

It’s subtle, maddeningly so. A dry remark laced with amusement, the way she tilts her head just enough to make it clear she’s watching you, the occasional slow sip of her wine while her lips curl around the glass in a way that is entirely deliberate. She’s good at this, at keeping it just out of reach, making you chase her just a little more. And you love every second of it.

By the time dessert comes, you’re both deep enough in this game that you don’t even pretend to be interested in anything but each other.

The waitress is thrilled. She practically bounces when she drops off the dessert menu, grinning wide enough to split her face in half. “I knew you two had the energy of a slow-burn romance,” she announces, clasping her hands together. “You’re, like, so cute. I mean, the chemistry? Off the charts.”

Alex groans, rubbing her temple. “Oh my god.”

“I love when two people fight the inevitable,” the waitress continues, undeterred. “Like, you think you’re just having dinner, but actually, it’s fate pulling you together. You guys are fate-coded, by the way. Just saying.”

You’re dying trying not to laugh, mostly because Alex looks like she’d rather be anywhere else on earth than listening to this woman wax poetic about your alleged romantic destiny.

“Dessert?” Alex asks, clipped, like she’s trying to fast-forward through the suffering.

The waitress nods enthusiastically. “Oh, you have to get the brownie. It’s our signature—dark chocolate, a little molten in the middle, served with fresh cream. Very shareable, if you catch my drift.”

She winks. Actually winks.

Alex exhales sharply. “Fine. Brownie. Thank you.”

She all but shoves the menu back at the poor woman, who takes it with zero offense, still beaming as she rushes off to grab your order.

You prop your chin on your hand, smirking. “You love the attention.”

Alex levels you with a look. “You are never picking the restaurant again.”

The brownie arrives a few minutes later, looking like something sinful, warm and gooey and paired with thick cream on the side. You take the first bite and practically melt in your seat.

“Okay, wow,” you murmur around your fork, closing your eyes for a second. “That’s actually obscene. You have to try.”

You hold your fork out to her in offering, half as a tease, half as an excuse to watch her lips wrap around it.

Alex watches you, expression unreadable, before sighing and obliging. She takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully, and hums—an actual, genuine hum of appreciation that does something ridiculous to your stomach.

“Alright,” she admits. “It’s good.”

You grin. “Knew you had a sweet tooth.”

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue.

You’re both still working through the brownie when it happens—when you get a little too into a bite, savoring the rich chocolate, and a tiny smudge of it lingers at the corner of your mouth. You don’t notice. But Alex does.

She doesn’t say anything at first, just watches you with an unreadable expression, her gaze flickering—your mouth, your lips, back to your eyes. Then, before you can process, she leans in, close enough that you feel the warmth of her body, and wipes it away with her thumb.

The touch is so gentle, her thumb dragging slow across your skin, and suddenly, all the playful teasing in the world means absolutely nothing compared to this.

Your breath catches.

Alex pulls back immediately, clearing her throat, her fingers curling like she’s surprised at herself. “You had…” She gestures vaguely. “Chocolate.”

You should say something. Tease her, keep the banter going. But your brain is static, entirely focused on the ghost of her touch, on how easily she just did that, like it was instinct.

The waitress chooses that exact moment to swing by, and of course, she saw the whole thing.

“Oh my god,” she gushes, clasping her hands over her heart. “That was so romantic. I literally felt that.”

Alex, looking vaguely like she wants to disappear, grips the edge of the table. “Please bring the check.”

You, on the other hand, are grinning like you just won the lottery.

“Sure thing,” the waitress singsongs, practically skipping away.

Alex exhales, staring at a fixed point on the table like she can will herself out of this reality.

You tilt your head, studying her, then smirk. “So.”

“No,” Alex says immediately.

“You touched me.”

Alex pinches the bridge of her nose. “I swear to god—”

“You caressed me, actually,” you continue, pushing your luck, watching the way her jaw tightens. “Could’ve just told me I had something on my face, but nooo, you had to be all gentle about it.”

Alex doesn’t respond. Just signals for the check like her life depends on it.

But still, she doesn’t deny it.

And that is definitely your favorite part of all.

The check arrives, and Alex is immediately reaching for it, like paying will somehow erase the past ten minutes from existence. You watch with your chin propped on your hand, delighted, because she’s rattled in that rare, quiet way—lips pursed, brows drawn, but not with irritation. No, this is different. This is Alex processing, recalibrating, fighting whatever it is she felt just now.

And you? You’re basking in it.

She doesn’t look at you while she hands over her card, her posture stiff in that painfully controlled way, and it’s so funny, so adorable, that you have to press your lips together to keep from outright laughing.

The waitress returns, handing Alex her card back with a knowing smile. "Come back soon, okay? And next time, hold hands or something. For me."

Alex’s eye twitches. "Goodnight."

You laugh as you both step outside into the crisp night air. The city hums around you—soft streetlights, a few distant car horns, the scent of rain lingering from earlier. It’s nice. Quiet.

Alex exhales, rolling her shoulders like she’s shaking off the entire evening. "That was awful."

You smirk, nudging her playfully. "You had fun."

"I tolerated it."

"You caressed me, Alex."

"Oh my god."

"You gazed at me. Longingly. You—”

Alex cuts you off by stepping abruptly into your space, close enough that the words die in your throat. Your heart stutters, but you hold your ground, chin tilting in challenge.

She leans in, voice lower now, smoother. "If I did any of that, it wasn’t longing," she murmurs, head tilted just slightly, eyes locked onto yours. "It was strategy."

And just like that, the entire game shifts.

Your breath catches, the playful banter suddenly charged, the air between you crackling with something far less innocent. Alex holds your gaze for a beat longer, letting the tension sit, before she smirks—actually smirks—and steps back like she didn’t just unravel you in two sentences.

You blink, stunned, then let out a breathless laugh, shaking your head. "You’re dangerous."

Alex shrugs, the ghost of amusement playing on her lips. "And yet, here you are."

She starts walking toward her car, and after a second, you follow, still buzzing, still reeling.

You don’t hold hands.

But as you slide into the passenger seat, you swear she glances at your mouth again.

And maybe—just maybe—she’s thinking about chocolate too.

tags:

@eyecandy111

@iwoulddieforher

@undercoverprentiss

@colourfulbisexualities

@babyboyhotchner

[nicotinebliss]

ᯓ★ CRIMINAL ATTACHMENT ★ᯓ

she’s sworn to uphold the law — and you make her break it every time she whispers your name.

kingpin female reader

ada alex cabot

headcanons

NAVIGATION

General Dynamic:

Alex knows who you are. Maybe not everything, but enough. Enough to keep your name in her mouth and on her desk more than it should be.

You’re the kind of woman who walks into a courtroom just to watch her, all tailored suits and subtle smirks - never on trial, never on record. Just a presence that drips threat and fascination.

There's a mutual obsession simmering under the surface. She won’t admit it. You don’t have to.

How You Met:

She prosecuted one of your lieutenants. Her argument was flawless, clinical. You were there in the gallery, watching with a look that made her stomach flip.

Later, you sent her a bottle of wine. No note. Just a challenge.

She didn’t drink it. But she did research you obsessively that night.

Tension-Filled Encounters:

She visits you in your penthouse under the guise of “negotiating” an informant deal. You greet her in silk and smile like you already own her.

You love to watch her fight her moral compass when she's alone with you. How her jaw tightens when you touch her wrist, how her breath catches when you whisper her name.

You’ve never laid a hand on her. Not in public, not even in private .. yet. You make her want it first. You’re patient. And terrifying.

Sexual Dynamic:

When it finally happens, it’s violent with restraint—Alex kisses you like she hates you for making her want this, want you. You let her lead at first, until her hands start shaking.

You tease her for being a “lawful good girl with filthy hands.” She slaps you once for it, and you moan.

She comes back to you after the most stressful cases, trembling, needing control, and you let her take it … until she begs you to take it back.

Emotional Undercurrents:

Alex pretends she can compartmentalize it .. you. That it’s just sex, just stress relief. But you’re in her head like a brand.

You’re in love with her precision. The way she slices through corruption like a scalpel. You would never admit it, but you want her to be your equal.

You’d burn half your empire if she asked, because you know she never will.

And she’d never admit it, but her moral compass has started spinning. Especially when you leave bruises on her thighs and marks where no one can see.

Power Dynamics:

You give her intel she can’t trace. “Anonymous tips” that crack open cases. She suspects it’s you. She never proves it.

You call her “counsellor” in bed and “Alex” in front of your men. Both make her weak.

She once tried to threaten you with indictment. You laughed. “Darling, I own the judge.”

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

After General Anesthesia

Alex Cabot x Casey Novak x fem!reader Warnings: hospital times, fluffity fluff, mentions of sex, poly representation so if you're not on board with that byeeeeee, some explicit language Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: You wake up in the hospital, groggy from the anesthesia, to two of the most beautiful women you've ever seen doting on you. Imagine your surprise when it turns out you're dating. Both of them.

Your ears and nose woke up before the rest of you. The beeping of various monitors, that sickly-clean alcohol smell. You knew before you’d opened your eyes that you were in a hospital. You’d spent too much time in hospitals with your brother not to know. You blinked against the fluorescent lights, wincing at a sudden, sharp pain in your leg.

Your head still felt fuzzy, and you didn’t remember why you were here. But your confused thoughts were interrupted as one of the most stunning  women you’d ever seen in your life rushed at you, kissing your face, cupping your cheeks, and grasping your fingers in hers.

“Honey, she’s awake!” Alex called to Casey, her glasses slipping down her nose as she smiled softly at you, worried hands fluttering over your face, your arms, your body.

Casey quickly occupied the space next to Alex, leaning down and holding the palm of your hand to her flushed face. “I swear to god, Y/N, if you ever scare us like that again…”

You were dreaming. You had to be dreaming. Because a hot woman fawning over you in a hospital bed was unbelievable enough. Two hot women?  That was the stuff of dreams, not reality. You had no idea who they were.

The doctors had told Casey and Alex to expect some temporary memory loss and confusion after the general anesthesia. They’d told you, too, but of course you didn’t remember.

Your words felt heavy as they fell out of your mouth, jumbled like marbles. “What’s going on?”

“You broke your ankle, sweetheart, remember?” Alex responded, scooting her chair closer to the bed so she could sit next to you and hold your hand. “But it went septic. You were very sick.”

“Yes, and you scared the hell out of me,” Casey finished, grasping your face and planting a firm kiss on your forehead before sitting down, too. She leaned over the bed railing to rest her head on your thigh, looking up at you.

You’d never felt so flustered and confused in your life. Two women. Two women holding your hand!? Touching you!?  But as confused as you were, all the questions in your brain were drowned out by one, single, all-consuming thought: so, so beautiful. You felt like you’d been hit head-on by a dump truck of hormones and emotions.

“You two…” you started, words slurring like you were drunk, “...are so pretty. Like, wow.”

They shared a confused glance as you continued to ramble.

“Please tell me you’re single?” you asked, trying to wink and blinking instead. “At least one of you?”

A smile tugged at the corner of Alex’s mouth, and Casey was barely holding in her laughter.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you said, holding up a hand and gesticulating wildly. “Let me try something. I’ve been working on this.”

Casey’s shoulders had started to shake with laughter, and Alex’s eyes sparkled with mirth.

You hit them with your very best finger guns. “Hey, girl. Are you a savings account? Because I’m accruing interest in you.”

At this, Alex and Casey burst out laughing, falling into one another, equal parts delighted by your post-surgery high and relieved that you were really and truly going to be okay.

“Wait! I’ve got more!” You waggled your eyebrows at Alex, and the way she looked at you, you knew–even in your doped-up, memory-loss state–that there was no need for pick-up lines here. She was already yours. Hook, line, and sinker. But since you had it prepped: “Hey, girl. It’s just you and me in the sheets tonight. The spreadsheets! Let’s budget, baby!”

Casey was laughing so hard she was snorting, and Alex was gingerly wiping tears from under eyes, trying to smudge her mascara. You felt like you were on cloud nine. If you could do nothing else in your life except make these two women laugh, you’d die happy.

“Come on,” you needled, smiling ear to ear. “Look at me, I’m adorable. I’m charming. You know you want to give me a chance.”

Alex coughed, trying to pull herself together, and Casey leaned down again, placing her chin on your leg and staring up at you lovingly.

“Y/N, you know we’re dating, right?”

Your eyebrows shot up and you stared at her. Her auburn hair that looked soft as the surface of water. Her eyes. Her body. “Me and you!? Are dating!?”

“No, we’re all dating,” Casey explained, gesturing between the three of you. “Me and you and Alex.”

You glanced at Alex to confirm and she nodded, smiling cheekily.

Your jaw dropped as you took in this new information. You put a hand on your head as if this was all just too much for you. And, in your current state, it kind of was.

“Me!?” you asked, glancing between them. “You’re… both of you!?”

They nodded, grinning and trying not to laugh.

“Holy shit,” you said, spurring another fit of laughter from the chairs next to your bed. “This is crazy!”

You sat and thought for a few minutes, mouth gaping.

“You alright, love?” Alex asked, running her thumb back and forth across your wrist.

You leaned toward them, as if to share a secret, then gasped sharply at the pain.

“Ow!”

“Jesus, Y/N! Lay back!” Casey complained, trying to sound stern but really just sounding worried. She stood and gently shoved your body back down into the pillows. “I think we broke her brain, Alex.”

“Psst!” you hissed at them, your impaired brain feeling inexplicably salty about being left out of their conversation.

“What, you dork!?” Casey exclaimed.

You squinted conspiratorially at them. “Do we… you know?...”

Casey and Alex swiveled their heads to look at each other, then collectively burst out laughing again.

“Oh, yeah,” Casey assured you.

“We sure do,” Alex added.

“All three!?”

They nodded at you, still chuckling.

“Wow. Jesus fucking Christ. Am I dreaming right now!?”

“Believe it or not, no,” Casey said, watching as your eyes fluttered between open and shut. You needed to sleep. She could tell.

She ran her thumb across your eyebrows and down the bridge of your nose, back and forth, back and forth. A surefire way to put you to sleep. Alex and Casey knew all your tricks.

You exhaled deeply, trying so hard to keep your eyes open.

“Go to sleep, baby,” Casey whispered lovingly. “When you wake up you’ll remember.”

You mumbled as you drifted between sleeping and waking. “I’m not tired. I can’t be tired, I have two girlfriends to take care of.”

Alex and Casey smiled at one another. Alex stood and wrapped her arms around Casey’s waist, planting a kiss on her cheek as they watched you fall asleep.

“Two girlfriends,” you continued, your words losing volume and speed. “The nicest, smartest, prettiest girlfriends. So pretty. So many boobs.”

“God, I wish we’d recorded this,” Casey whispered, placing a soft kiss on your cheek before leaning back in her chair.

Alex dropped her phone onto Casey’s lap, the screen showing an active voice recording.

Casey fist-pumped silently, pulling Alex down by the collar for a quick kiss.

“I love you,” Casey said, unlocking Alex’s phone to send herself the recording.

“I love you, too,” Alex chuckled. She foraged in her bag by the door before pulling her chair close to you, propping up a book with one hand and holding yours with the other. “I love our girl, Case.”

“She’s something else, isn’t she?” Casey observed, smiling softly and shaking her head at your drugged, sleeping form. “How’d we get so lucky?”

“Pure, dumb luck,” Alex decided, flipping a page and absentmindedly rubbing the back of your hand.

Casey stood and stretched, then slumped onto the sorry excuse for a couch in the corner of the room, kicking off her shoes.

“I’m exhausted,” she groaned, pulling off one sock and then the other. “It’s a good thing we weren’t both out of town this weekend. I was up all night with her before she finally agreed to go to the hospital. Stubborn asshole.”

“Reminds me of someone else I know.”

“Shut up, Alex,” Casey protested, grinning, before throwing a sock at her.

“Why don’t you sleep?” Alex suggested, ignoring the sock on the floor next to her. “Get some rest, honey. I’ll wake you when she’s up again.”

Casey nodded and folded her arms over her chest, letting herself drift off, snoring softly as she always did and always swore she didn’t.

Alex set down her book and looked at her two sleepy girls, knowing there wasn’t a thing in the world she wouldn’t do for you and Casey.

“So fucking lucky,” she whispered, drawing your hand to her lips to kiss your knuckles.

[lanawinterscigarettes]

Most recent fics/hcs that I've posted~

Fluff: ♡ Angst: ♤ Smut: ♧ Headcanons: ◇ May contain triggering content: ☆ Omegaverse: αβΩ

Lifesaver || Clara Oswald x fem! reader (♤♡) - posted May 8th

Cuddling Chaos || poly! Non-Judging Breakfast Club x gn! reader (♡) - posted May 10th

Gentle Touch || Rory Gilmore x gn! reader (♡) - posted May 10th

Unspecified fem! character x gn! reader drabble (slightly suggestive) - posted May 12th

Hot and Heavy || Clara Oswald x fem! reader (♡♧) - posted May 16th

The Gang and whether or not they give off scary dog privilege (◇) - posted May 16th

Coffees and Camcorders || Vanessa Abrams x gn! reader (♡) - posted May 17th

Stolen Shirt || Clara Oswald x fem! reader (♧) - posted May 22nd

What Monica Geller would be like as an alpha (◇ αβΩ) - posted June 2nd

Alpha! Monica Geller taking care of her mate while they're in heat (◇ αβΩ) - posted June 2nd

More Than Anything || Alex Cabot x fem! reader (♡♧) - posted June 2nd

Gale Weathers dating a softie (◇) - posted June 5th

Thirteenth Doctor: B, C, D, K, and L for the fluff alphabet (♡◇) - posted June 5th

What aftercare with Gale Weathers is like (◇) - posted June 5th

[buzziightqueer]

MASTERLIST!

putting all of my fics here for easy access :))

FULL LENGTH FICS

Undercover Lover: [ongoing]

4.7k words fluff, referenced smut-- Casey Novak, Alex Cabot, Calex

Three's Company: [fin]

5.3k words smut, threesome-- Casey Novak, Alex Cabot, Olivia Benson, Calex, Cabensonovak

Lovesick Blues: [fin]

12k words slow burn, mutual pining-- Casey Novak, Alex Cabot, Calex

Working 9 to 5: [fin]

14.6k words mutual pining, fluff, smut-- Alex Cabot, Olivia Benson, Cabenson

DRABBLES

Common Ground

1.1k words fluff, crack fic-- Calex, Huang, Olivia and Melinda mention

[jiggy-manda]

masterlist

saw

amanda young

nsfw alphabet

hug me

gf!amanda headcanons

jealous

pothead!lynnmanda drabble

lynn denlon

pothead!lynnmanda drabble

scream

sam carpenter

possessive ghostface!sam headcanons

amber freeman

self harm comfort fic

gf!amber headcanons

svu

casey novak

gf!casey headcanons , [pt2]

calex headcanons

alex cabot

gf!alex headcanons

calex headcanons

criminal minds

emily prentiss

six (jemily)

jennifer jareau

six (jemily)

restriction

yellowjackets

lottie matthews

doomcoming with lottie

move nights with lottie

natalie scatorccio

movie nights with nat

mari ibarra

jealous!mari headcanons

grumpy!mari headcanons

movie nights with mari