qua1ntrell3

[qua1ntrell3]

You could do it on your own while you're looking at me.

Pairing: Tate McRae x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT (MDNI), fingering (R receiving), degradation, use of Y/N.

Synopsis: Tate catches R masturbating.

Word count: 1.707

Tate’s been gone for over two hours.

She said she’d be out just a little while — grabbing coffee with her best friend Findlay, decompressing now that she finally has some downtime.

It’s currently March 6th, which means it’s her second day off in what feels like months, and even though she promised she’d spend it all with you, you told her to go. Encouraged it, even.

She’d been working incessantly on her recently released album “So Close To What” and she undoubtedly needed the absolute most mental rest she could get. To free her mind as much as possible before embarking on her upcoming world tour.

You had your own tour coming up, so you were supposed to be working anyway — reviewing wardrobe proposals, finalizing a promo shoot schedule, syncing with your creative director about stage mapping.

You even had your laptop open on the kitchen table when Tate left.

But that lasted maybe an hour at most.

Now you're lying in bed, half under the pristine white sheets, wearing some loose sweatpants and Tate’s oversized shirt — the black one with the Red Hot Chili Peppers logo at the front.

You shouldn’t be doing this.

You really shouldn’t.

But here you are — staring at your phone which showed the contents of a private folder in your camera roll, locked with Face ID. Precisely, a set of six photos you took of your girlfriend over a week ago.

You’d gone to New York together for her SNL performance taking place on the 1st of March before flying back to L.A. the next day — then were instantly thrown into press, prep, fittings for Vanity Fair’s Oscars afterparty, interviews. A whirlwind again.

Thankfully, you were now back to relative placidity and inside the comforting walls of your shared apartment.

But that particular night in the hotel bedroom in Times Square on February 27th remained fresh in your memory and had barely left your mind since.

The pictures your eyes were currently skimming through only allowed you to recollect the moment and experience more easily.

In the aftermath of the passionate love-making you two had done, Tate rolled over to lay on her stomach — hair a wild golden mess over her shoulders, lips slightly swollen, face half-buried in the pillow. She looked like destruction and divinity all at once — and you, drunk on love and cum and too much boldness, picked up your phone and clicked the shutter.

She didn’t stop you. She just smirked at you over her shoulder, eyes still lazy and satisfied.

She’s entirely naked in each one — golden skin glowing in low warm light of the bedside lamp, the curve of her ass sharp, the line of her spine elegant and obscene. In one of them, her eyes are on the camera. Staring right at you. Lips parted. Pupils blown.

Your hand now instinctively slithered its way to your lower-region, pushing and shimmying both your sweatpants and undies down to let them ruck at your knees as you spread your thighs wide. Then, you guided your fingers to your clit and started to circle it slowly but deliberately in time with the pulsing in your ears, imagining Tate’s breath in your mouth, her voice murmuring that damn lyric from her song in your ear — You could do it on your own while you’re looking at me…

And you are. Exactly that.

You swear she wrote that line for you.

For this.

You’re building too fast. Already shaking, completely soaked in arousal, vision running slightly blurry, quiet moans slipping out of your parted lips—

Timely, the door clicks.

You don’t even register it until you hear the soft clink of keys in the ceramic bowl, followed by footsteps that gradually grew in volume.

“Y/N?” Tate’s voice calls out casually, a hint of an amusement in her tone. “Babe, I’m back. You won’t believe what Fin—”

She stops abruptly as you jolt up like you’ve been electrocuted, yanking the sheets over to cover yourself from the waist down. However, your other hand fails to cooperate as it fumbles with the phone. Unfortunately for you, it falls on the mattress facing upward, exposing what you’ve been staring at so intently for the past minutes.

You don’t even bother to scramble back for it. It was too late. Tate had already seen everything as she’s standing in the bedroom's doorway. Your widely parted thighs under the blankets were also a dead giveaway of your doings. Your eyes track her own and you can only watch as her face gradually contorts into a shit eating grin.

Oh, you’re fucked.

“Well, hello,” she says as she slips her sneakers off and walks in slowly, like a cat who’s cornered something she plans to devour.

“What do we have here, hm?”

You open your mouth. Nothing comes out. Your face is practically on fire. Once she’s standing at the foot of the bed, she bends and reaches over to take your phone still open beside you, not breaking eye contact even for a second until the screen is within her near eyesight. Charged silence fills the room for a moment before you hear your girlfriend snicker under her breath in reaction to the photo she’s seeing, the sound sending a small shiver down your spine.

“Oh, you’re such a little slut,” she then murmurs, lifting her gaze to you, shutting the device and carefully placing it on the nearest surface before crawling onto the bed. Her expression darkens, a smirk barely there now as she moves to hover over you. “Jerking off to nudes of your girlfriend like a horny teenager?” Her voice is velvet and venom. You swallow as that can only mean one thing.

Tatiana’s here.

You then manage to breathe out a shaky, “I missed you.”

“Aww, baby,” she coos mockingly, stroking your cheek with her hand. You misinterpret the gentle action and lean onto her touch. 

Wrong.

She consequently pinches the soft skin there between her fingers — the sudden sting eliciting a small gasp from you — before promptly grabbing your chin and aligning your face with her own. There’s only a few inches separating you now, and you helplessly get lost in her intense gaze and bask in the sweet scent of her perfume. A few strands of her luscious golden brown hair fall over her face and you have to resist the urge to push them back.

“So because you missed me you decided to be a filthy little perv instead of calling me or waiting for me to come back?”

You nod again as your voice continues to betray you, eyes wide, pulse thudding in your throat. Her dominance does something chemical to you. It always did. 

Tate only hums in response and you catch her hooded eyes drift towards your parted lips hungrily for a split second before snapping back up to meet yours again.

“Well, now I’m gonna have to teach you a lesson. Can’t just cum without permission, can you?”

Before you can react, she grabs both of your wrists and pins them over your head against the pillow with a single hand before yanking the blanket down, exposing your soaked inner thighs. The sudden movement along with the cold air hitting your wet skin make you whimper embarrassingly.

“God, look at this,” she tsks, eyeing your glistening cunt with wicked delight. Her free hand finds purchase on your thigh, squeezing it with purpose and spreading it a little wider.

“Such a mess. Naughty, naughty girl.”

What follows is not gentle.

She’s kneeling beside you on the mattress as she leans down to push her mouth against your neck. Your eyes flutter shut at the sensation and you instinctively tilt your head to allow Tate better access as she kissed and nipped your skin with fervor. Meanwhile, her hand snaked blindly between your thighs and expertly slid two fingers into you without warning.

You cry out — breathless, overwhelmed.

“Be quiet,” she hisses as she unlatches her lips from your neck to glare at you, hazel eyes flashing. You have to stop yourself from whimpering at her mouth’s absence. “You wanted to get off to me? Do it with your mouth shut now.”

Her long slender fingers are merciless — deep, fast, curling with perfect cruelty. Your wrists are still pinned by Tate’s other hand, your back arching as pleasure crashes through you like lightning. You’re dripping down her palm in seconds.

“Look at me,” she growls. “Cum while looking at me, Y/N.”

And you do — because how the fuck could you not?

You have to force your eyes open just so you can unravel under her gaze, moaning her name like a prayer you forgot you believed in. Her fingers don’t slow until your thighs are shaking and your voice is momentarily gone.

Tate lets go of your wrists, finally — leaving behind a faint imprint on your skin. She then lowers herself to lay right beside you as she pulls her fingers out of your pussy, wiping your arousal off her hand on the sheets.

Your girlfriend smiles cockily as she watches you collapse in front of her — limp and dazed — and she has the decency to help you slide your underwear and pants back on after seeing your slightly trembling hands reaching for them.

You choose to dismiss the friction of your clothes rubbing against your sensitive cunt, and roll over to curl into Tate’s frame — burying your face in her neck and placing a sloppy kiss there in gratitude.

Her smile softens at your display of affection and she wraps her arms around you in return, holding you against her front and kissing the top of your head before murmuring with gentleness laced with a hint of condescension.

“Did my pretty girl learn her lesson now?” She asked already knowing the answer.

You nod against her neck and mumble a breathy “yes” that becomes muffled by Tate’s skin.

“Next time you want me that bad, you call me. Or record it and send it. Understood?”

You assent once more. But you both knew this wasn’t going to be the last time you’d get caught doing this.