#Diane Neal

[ncvqk]

thank you diane very informative

[simps-4-russian-assassains]

Ok so I just listened to an SVU podcast where they interviewed Diane Neal about her time on the show… here’s a couple tidbits that Diane said

1.Her first episode in season 3 she was only like 22 or 23 years old

2. She was the youngest person on the cast when she became Casey Novak with the second youngest person being Mariska…. Being 12 years older

3.She tormented Meloni for 6 months when she first became a regular by bringing an opened can of mixed vegetables and leaving them for him to find because of one of his previous roles

4. When he finally “flipped” his lid she was laughing her ass off and he was like “Jesus how old are you” and she responded “25” and then he immediately calmed down and was like “oh ok cool” and now whenever he is with cast members from that movie he will send Diane a selfie with a can of mixed vegetables

5. Her and Ice-T were obsessed with uncrustables that were provided to snack on (I NEED a fic where this is a plot point)

6. Diane said whenever she saw that the actress who played Judge Petrovsky was on the call sheet, she would be so excited cause it was always so fun to work with her (as well as Viola Davis)

7. Apparently her character Casey Novak was based off of one of the writers who was actually a SVU ada in Brooklyn at one point

8. Her episode in season 3 was basically her first acting gig, one of any note anyway

9. Diane lowkey shipped Casey with Chester Lake (I was deeply upset about this fact *not really lol*)

10. The Sex Crimes baseball t-shirt we see Casey wear sometimes if an actual design used for department softball games for the Brooklyn SVU

I highly recommend listening to the podcast “That’s Messed Up: An SVU podcast” the episode they interviewed Diane Neal was where they talked about Serendipity, which was the first episode of Casey Novak

[cabotinheels]

— A NIGHT AT CASEY'S — c.novak x female best friend

PREMISE: You always crash at Casey’s place after nights out — but this time, drunk and giggly, you accidentally walk in on her jerking off in her bedroom. Instead of leaving, you close the door behind you, lean against it, and ask, “Why didn’t you ever tell me you were packing that?” The look she gives you changes everything.

WARNINGS: daddy kink, rough sex, creampie, choking (light), spanking, biting/marking, breast play, g!p Casey, dirty talk, begging, degradation, body worship, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, possessiveness, mutual obsession, unprotected sex.

WORD COUNT: 3.2K

The door wasn’t even supposed to be open.

You were just looking for a T-shirt, something soft and oversized to crash in after a night out. Both of you half-drunk, hair messy, skin still warm from laughing too hard over greasy takeout on her couch. But when you round the corner to her bedroom, the light’s on, the door cracked, and what you see makes the air catch in your throat.

Casey’s sitting at the edge of her bed, legs spread wide, her head tipped back against the wall. One arm draped lazily over her stomach, the other wrapped around the thickest, meanest-looking cock you’ve ever seen in your life. And you don’t even think she’s noticed you yet.

She’s jerking herself off in slow, steady strokes — palm slick with what looks like a mess of lube and precum, her long fingers curling around the thick shaft like she owns it. And goddamn, she should. That thing is massive. Heavy, veiny, flushed dark at the tip, the crown angry and swollen and drooling a fat bead of slick that rolls down over her fist with every stroke.

You swallow, your legs going weak at the sight, pussy clenching tight in your underwear like it knows exactly what it’s looking at. Heat blooms low in your belly, sharp and sweet and filthy. You didn’t know Casey was packing something like that. Hell, you hadn’t even really let yourself imagine it.

But now you can’t stop.

Her cock is gorgeous — long and thick, veins bulging along the underside, the head a flushed, deep pink that glistens with slick. Every time she fists her hand down to the base, her stomach flexes, a soft, shuddering breath leaving her parted lips. You can hear the slick slide of her palm, the wet sound obscene in the quiet of the room.

She murmurs something under her breath, low and rough, and her hips twitch upward into her fist.

You’re wet already — embarrassingly so — your pussy throbbing behind your panties just from watching her work her cock like that, from seeing how good she looks with her legs spread wide, skin flushed, a lazy smirk ghosting across her lips as her strokes slow, teasing herself. And she still hasn’t seen you.

You don’t even realize you’ve stepped closer until the floor creaks under your foot.

Her head snaps forward, eyes latching onto yours — and god, the way her pupils blow wide when she sees you standing there, all flushed and needy-looking in the doorway, makes your breath hitch.

“Well, well,” Casey rasps, voice thick, a crooked grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. Her hand still slowly works her cock, squeezing the base and giving a little upward stroke that makes her grunt. “Didn’t hear you come in, sweetheart.”

You can’t even pretend to look away. Your gaze drops straight to where her cock is still glistening in her grip, slick and heavy, a fresh bead of precum gathering at the tip. Your thighs press together like it’ll help, but it doesn’t.

“I…” you start, then shake your head, voice barely a whisper. “Jesus, Casey.”

She grins wider, the kind of cocky, dangerous smile that makes your stomach flip. “What’s wrong? Never seen a cock before?”

“Not like that,” you admit, heat flooding your face and between your legs. You lick your lips, unable to tear your eyes away from the way her fist moves, the way her abs tense, how thick that thing looks — and god, you feel yourself getting wetter just standing there. Your panties are damp now, clinging to your pussy like a second skin.

Casey lets out a low, smug little chuckle. “C’mere, baby,” she murmurs, voice hoarse, her thumb brushing over the tip of her cock and smearing the slick bead across the head. “No point in just watchin’, huh?”

Your pulse trips, stomach tight, your body already moving before your brain catches up.

You cross the room, the heat of her skin, the obscene size of that cock in her lap, the thick, musky scent of her arousal hitting you like a punch to the gut.

And you want it.

You want her.

You wanna see if you can even take it.

You reach her, your knees brushing against the inside of her spread thighs, and fuck, she’s even bigger up close. Her cock is thick, long, the head flushed so dark it looks almost angry, glistening with slick precum and the shine of lube. The veins stand out along the shaft, her fingers wrapped tight around the base like she’s holding back from just grabbing you and pulling you down onto it.

You can feel your pussy throb, wetness pooling in your panties so heavy it’s probably visible if you stripped them off right now. She can tell, too — the way her eyes drop to your hips, that little smirk tugging at her lips like she knows exactly how soaked you are without even needing to touch you.

“Go ahead,” Casey murmurs, voice low and thick, her free hand reaching out to rest on your waist. “Touch it.”

You don’t need to be told twice.

Your fingers brush over the head first, slick and hot and so fucking heavy in your hand. Precum beads at the tip, and when you swirl your thumb through it, Casey groans, her hips twitching up into your touch.

“Fuck, baby,” she rasps, head tipping back against the wall, her throat working around a swallow. “Didn’t think you’d actually have the guts.”

You smirk, wrapping your hand around the shaft just under the head — your fingers can’t even fully circle it, not with how thick she is. The skin is so hot it makes your pussy clench hard, slick dripping down the inside of your thigh.

“Didn’t think you were packing something like this,” you breathe, stroking her slow, watching the way her abs tense, the soft flex and jump of her cock in your hand.

“Could’ve asked,” she grins, voice a little shaky now, her eyes locked on your hand moving over her cock. “Would’ve let you have it anytime you wanted.”

You lean in, dragging your tongue over the swollen head, tasting the salt and heat of her. She lets out a sharp, choked sound, her hand tightening on your waist.

“Jesus fuck,” she groans. “Open that mouth, sweetheart.”

You do, licking up the underside, tracing the thick vein that runs along it before wrapping your lips around the tip. She bucks up instinctively, the fat head pushing against your tongue, stretching your mouth wide.

It’s a stretch — you can already feel your jaw ache a little and you’ve barely taken the tip — but fuck, the way she groans, the tight grip of her hand tangling in your hair, it makes your pussy throb, your clit pulsing against the wet cling of your panties.

“God, you look so fuckin’ good like this,” Casey growls, her hips giving a shallow thrust that pushes her cock deeper into your mouth. “Bet that cunt’s soaked already, huh? Drippin’ for my cock?”

You moan around her, and she hisses through her teeth.

“Shit — yeah, you are,” she mutters, pulling you off her with a wet pop and grabbing your chin so you’ll look at her. Her cock glistens with your spit, a fat bead of precum still clinging to the slit. “Take those off.”

You peel your shorts and panties down in one motion, letting them drop to the floor, and her eyes drop immediately to your pussy. Her mouth curves in a crooked, hungry grin.

“Look at you,” she murmurs, stroking herself slow again as her gaze trails over your soaked folds, the way your arousal shines in the low light. “So wet for me already. Knew you’d be like this.”

Your face heats, but you don’t care — not when you’re aching like this, not when your pussy’s clenching around nothing just watching her fist that big, gorgeous cock.

“Casey,” you whisper, stepping closer, reaching to brace your hands on her shoulders. “I need you to fuck me.”

A low, guttural groan tears from her throat as she drags you into her lap, her cock pressing hot and heavy against your inner thigh.

“You sure, baby?” she rasps against your neck, teeth grazing your skin. “I’m not gonna be gentle.”

“Good,” you breathe, grinding your slick pussy against her length, shuddering at the obscene heat and size of it. “I don’t want you to be.”

And with that, she grabs her cock, lines it up with your entrance, and pushes the head against your soaked folds.

You cry out at the stretch, at the thick, slow push as she works just the fat head into you. It’s so much — bigger than anyone you’ve ever taken — your walls clenching around her, your pussy trying to suck her in even deeper.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Casey growls, teeth gritted, sweat beading on her brow as she holds herself back, easing deeper inch by inch. “Goddamn, baby… feels so fuckin’ good.”

Your nails dig into her shoulders, hips rolling instinctively, chasing that fullness, the obscene, perfect stretch of her cock inside you.

“More,” you gasp, panting against her ear. “I want all of it.”

Casey lets out a strangled, desperate sound and snaps her hips up, sinking the rest of her cock deep into your pussy in one rough, wet thrust.

You swear you see stars.

And she’s still not done.

The stretch borders on unbearable, a deep, searing ache that makes your thighs tremble as Casey bottoms out inside you. You swear you can feel her cock in your stomach, thick and pulsing, your pussy stretched impossibly tight around her. The sound you make isn’t even a moan — it’s a needy, broken whimper, your body jerking as your clit grinds down against the rough line of her pelvis.

“Fucking Christ,” Casey groans, her hands digging into the fat of your ass, fingers flexing hard enough to bruise. “You feel so good, baby. So fucking wet… so tight… fuck.”

You can barely answer, already drunk on the stretch, your pussy spasming around her cock as she rocks her hips, just a slow, grinding drag of her length against your walls. Every inch is thick and hot and perfect, veins dragging along your sensitive flesh, the fat head nudging deep inside, right against that spot that makes you cry out.

You can’t help it — you lean in, lips latching onto her neck, and bite down hard. You want to leave a mark, want her to wear you tomorrow, flushed and aching beneath her lawyer-collar and crisp jacket.

Casey snarls when your teeth sink into her throat, one hand coming up to grab a fistful of your hair and yank your head back. Her eyes are wild, pupils blown, a grin curling at her lips.

“Yeah? You like leavin’ your marks, sweetheart?” she growls, her voice ragged as she bucks her hips up into you. “Go ahead. Fuckin’ claim me.”

And you do.

You bite her again, this time at the curve of her shoulder, hard enough that she groans, her cock twitching inside you. Then you trail your lips lower, mouthing at the swell of her tits, sinking your teeth into the soft skin there too, leaving little red dents and bruises as your tongue flicks over her nipple, teasing her until she shudders beneath you.

Her hands never stop moving — one squeezing your ass, the other sliding up to palm your breast, rough and greedy. She tugs at your nipple, pinching just enough to make you whimper, your cunt clenching hard around her cock.

“Goddamn, look at you,” Casey grits, slamming her hips up harder now, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room. “Riding my cock like you’ve been dying for it.”

And fuck, you have.

You roll your hips, grinding down onto her, chasing every thick, perfect drag of her cock against your walls. Slick sounds fill the space between your bodies, your juices coating her length, dripping down onto her balls. It’s filthy, wet, fucking perfect.

Your clit grinds against her pelvis with every thrust, sharp sparks of pleasure shooting through you, and you know you’re close — can feel it building, your pussy tightening, your breath catching.

Casey feels it too. She reaches between you, two fingers finding your clit and circling it hard, fast, without mercy.

“C’mon, baby,” she growls, sweat shining on her skin, her eyes locked on yours. “Wanna feel this tight little cunt squeeze my cock. Cum for me.”

The pressure tips over, white-hot and blinding, your body seizing up as your orgasm rips through you. You cry out, grinding down onto her, your nails digging into her shoulders, your pussy clenching so tight around her cock that she hisses through her teeth.

“F-fuck, yeah — just like that, baby, milk my cock — fuck,” she pants, hips snapping up into you, chasing her own release.

You’re still shaking, breath ragged, as you lean in and bite her collarbone one more time, claiming her, marking her up like she’s yours. And she fucking is — the way her cock throbs inside you, the way she groans your name, it’s yours.

Casey’s thrusts turn erratic, her breath catching on a curse as her cock swells, and then she’s spilling inside you — thick, hot pulses of cum flooding your pussy, filling you so full it leaks out around her cock, dribbling down onto the bed.

She groans deep in her chest, crushing you against her as she rides out every last twitch, her fingers still teasing your clit, coaxing aftershocks from you until you’re trembling.

When it’s over, you both collapse into each other, sticky and spent, her cock still half-hard inside you, your teeth marks already blooming red against her skin.

And you grin against her neck.

“Leaving all those marks on you, counselor,” you murmur, voice wrecked and smug. “Better button that shirt high tomorrow.”

Casey chuckles, breathless, her hand smoothing down your back. “Shit, sweetheart,” she grins, voice still hoarse. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

Your legs barely have time to stop shaking before Casey grabs you again, hauling your body up like you weigh nothing, tossing you down onto your back. The mattress dips beneath you, the sheets still damp with sweat and cum. Your pussy’s still leaking, stretched wide from how hard she just fucked you, but the second she strokes her cock — thick, flushed dark, and glistening with your slick and her cum — you feel yourself clench all over again.

Casey shoves your legs up, hooking them over her shoulders, folding you in half. The angle has your tits pushed up, your nipples stiff and flushed, chest heaving as you pant up at her. She runs her palm up your thigh, fingers squeezing into the muscle, her other hand stroking her cock — that big, fat thing jerking in her fist, veins thick and pulsing, precum drooling from the swollen, angry head.

“Look at you,” she groans, cock slapping against your soaked folds, making you jolt. “Tits bouncin’, pussy so fuckin’ wet for me. You ready for Daddy’s cock again?”

You’re already whining, hips twitching up for it, your body fucking desperate.

“Please, Daddy,” you breathe, your voice wrecked and filthy. “Need it — need you to fuck me.”

And Casey fuckin’ grins, cocky and feral, leaning down to press the thick head against your hole. Your cunt stretches around the tip instantly, still so soaked you both moan at the wet, obscene sound of it.

“Fuck, baby — you’re so fuckin’ stretched already. Can feel how loose this pussy is for me,” she rasps, voice breaking as she pushes deeper. Your walls drag over every vein, the fat ridge of the head catching against your walls before it pops inside.

You let out a desperate, broken cry as she bottoms out in one rough thrust, your tits bouncing with the force of it, the slap of her hips against yours sharp and wet.

“God damn,” Casey groans, sweat shining on her chest, her abs flexing as she holds herself there, feeling your cunt flutter around her. “Still so fuckin’ tight — greedy little thing, aren’t you?”

Your nails dig into her arms, your tits bouncing with every hard, brutal thrust she gives you. The angle’s so deep you swear you can feel her cock in your guts, the thick base grinding against your clit, making you sob.

She fucks you like she owns you — hard, fast, reckless. The bed rocks with every slap of her hips, your legs shaking over her shoulders. Her body’s gorgeous above you, muscles flexing with every snap of her hips, her tits bouncing with each movement, sweat trickling down her stomach.

Your own body’s reacting like it’s wired straight to hers — every rough drive of her cock sending another pulse of slick gushing from your cunt, your tits bouncing, your nipples so tight it aches.

Casey’s watching you, her eyes glazed with lust, her lip curling into a filthy grin as your mouth drops open in a wrecked, helpless moan.

“Fuck yeah, baby,” she pants. “Bounce those pretty tits for Daddy. Love seein’ you fall apart on this cock.”

She drops one hand down, thumb circling your clit with rough, fast pressure, while her other hand wraps around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your head swim.

“C’mon,” she growls, her thrusts going harder, the wet slap of your bodies obscene and perfect. “Say it. Say who’s fuckin’ you this good.”

“Y-you, Daddy,” you choke out, tears stinging your eyes, your pussy spasming around her. “Only you — only your cock feels this good.”

That does it. Casey snarls, hips slamming home with bruising force, her cock throbbing deep inside you. The pressure on your clit, the stretch, the dirty words — it’s too much. Your orgasm rips through you, your body locking up, a scream tearing from your throat as your cunt clamps down around her cock.

You gush around her, soaking the sheets, your tits bouncing violently as she keeps fucking you through it, chasing her own release.

“F-fuck, baby — that’s it,” she groans, her face tightening, her cock swelling inside you. “Gonna cum — gonna fill you up again — take every fuckin’ drop like a good little slut.”

With a ragged growl, Casey slams in one final time, her cock buried to the hilt as she unloads deep inside you. You feel it flood your pussy, thick, hot spurts of cum coating your walls, dripping out around her cock. She groans through clenched teeth, muscles flexing, cock jerking with every pulse.

The pressure, the stretch, the heat of it sends another wave of aftershocks through you, your pussy milking her for every drop.

When it’s over, she collapses onto you, her cock still deep, both of you slick and filthy and breathless. Her mouth finds your neck, teeth sinking in to leave another claim, while her hand lazily toys with your oversensitive clit, making your legs tremble.

“Might keep you like this all fuckin’ night,” Casey murmurs, voice smug and wrecked, her cum leaking from your stretched hole around her thick cock. “Goddamn, sweetheart — you were made for Daddy’s cock.”

And you can’t even speak, too blissed-out and wrecked to do anything but whimper for more.

[mantiemo]

Your honor, she is distracting me.. 😩

[olderwomenenthusiast]

under pressure (casey novak)

PAIRING: casey novak & fem reader DESCRIPTION: casey arrives at your house insistent on making you pay CAUTION: swearing, fingering, oral, dominant and submissive, mutual consent WORD COUNT: 2.3k

The knock at your door is sharp, impatient, and sets your nerves on edge. You barely have time to open it before Casey Novak steps inside, her movements deliberate, controlled but there’s a heat simmering beneath the surface. Her green eyes lock onto yours, and you swallow hard at the intensity in them.

“You made me look like a fool in that courtroom today,” she says, voice low and edged with something you can’t quite name. Anger, maybe, or something darker, something more dangerous?

You take a step back, but she follows, closing the door behind her with a quiet click. Her presence fills the room, the tension between you crackling like electricity.

“I was just doing my job,” you say, though the words come out more breathless than you’d like.

Casey tilts her head, her lips curving into something that isn’t quite a smile. “Is that right?” she muses. “Because from where I was standing, it looked like you enjoyed making me scramble.”

She takes another step forward, leaving no space between you. Heat radiates from her body, and when she reaches up to brush her fingers along your jaw, a shiver runs through you.

“I have to admit,” she continues, voice dropping even lower, “I was impressed. The way you tore apart my argument, it was quick, ruthless.” Her thumb traces your lower lip, and your breath catches. “It pissed me off.” A beat. “And it turned me on.”

Your pulse pounds at the admission, at the way her eyes darken as they trace your face, your lips. You want to say something, anything to challenge her, to push back but Casey doesn’t give you the chance.

She presses you against the door, her hands firm but not rough as they pin your wrists at your sides. “I think it’s time you make it up to me,” she murmurs, her breath warm against your skin. “You were so confident in court today, so relentless.” Her lips brush your jaw, feather-light but enough to make you tilt your head, exposing more to her. “Let’s see if you can keep that same energy now.”

Her fingers move to the buttons of her blouse, undoing only half of them, just enough to expose the smooth curve of her breasts to your hungry gaze. Your breath hitches, heat pooling low in your stomach as you reach out, tracing your fingers along her exposed skin as your own eyes darken at the sight.

Casey smirks, watching you with knowing eyes before she reaches down, guiding your hands to her belt. The metal buckle clinks softly as you unfasten it, your fingers moving with deliberate slowness. You take your time, dragging down the zipper, feeling the tension in her body as you inch her pants down her hips.

The moment her panties are exposed, a deep, needy heat coils in your gut. The dark fabric is already damp, the evidence of her arousal unmistakable. Your fingers skim over the wet patch, pressing just enough to make her shudder.

“Fuck,” she breathes, her fingers tightening in your hair. “You have no idea how bad I wanted this.”

You grip the waistband of her panties and slowly slide them down, exposing her completely. The scent of her arousal fills the air, warm and intoxicating. You inhale deeply, savoring it, letting it consume you as your hands trail up her thighs.

A smirk tugs at her lips as she watches you. “Enjoying yourself?”

You meet her gaze, heat flashing between you. Instead of answering, you press your lips to the inside of her thigh, feeling the way she trembles beneath your touch. You trail your tongue higher, tasting the heat of her before finally dragging it over her slick folds. The first brush of contact makes her hiss through her teeth, and she tightens her grip on your hair, pulling you closer.

“That’s it,” she breathes, her voice edged with pleasure. “Make it up to me.”

Her control wavers as you work her with your tongue, slow at first, then faster, more deliberate. The sharp gasp she lets out only spurs you on, and you revel in the way she shudders under your mouth, her thighs tightening around your head. She rolls her hips, grinding herself against your tongue, her wetness coating your lips as she chases her pleasure. The taste of her, the sounds she makes, the way she tugs at your hair... all of it fuels your hunger for more.

She groans, her head tilting back, a hand braced against the door to steady herself. “Just like that,” she moans, her voice breathy and raw. “Don’t stop.”

Casey exhales a slow, satisfied breath, her smirk never fading. She straightens, her fingers still tangled in your hair, using them to tilt your chin up so she can look at you properly. The heat in her eyes hasn’t dimmed but it’s changed, shifting into something darker, something still hungry.

“You look good like this,” she murmurs, thumb stroking over your bottom lip, tracing the wetness left behind. “On your knees for me.”

Your pulse jumps, anticipation curling hot in your stomach, but before you can respond, she steps back, adjusting her blouse with calculated nonchalance. The sight of her half-undone buttons, the flush high on her cheeks, the way her breath still comes just a little too fast... God, it’s intoxicating.

Casey notices your stare and chuckles low in her throat. “Don’t look so pleased with yourself,” she teases, fastening her belt with a practiced flick of her wrist. “You’re not off the hook yet.”

You raise an eyebrow, pushing yourself to stand. “No?”

She shakes her head, stepping close again, the smell of sex still clinging to her skin. “You think one orgasm makes up for the way you embarrassed me in court?” Her voice is all silk and steel, a dangerous edge beneath the tease. She leans in, lips brushing against your ear as she whispers, “I don’t think so.”

A shiver races down your spine, and you barely have time to react before Casey takes control again. She turns you, pressing your back against the door, one hand gripping your wrist while the other trails down, down....

“You were so confident earlier,” she purrs, her fingers slipping under your waistband, teasing just above where you need her. “So relentless.” She tilts her head, eyes gleaming with something wicked. “Let’s see how well you handle it when I return the favour.”

And then she’s kissing you; hot, deep, claiming. You barely have time to gasp before her fingers push lower, pressing against your aching heat, and any retort you might’ve had melts into a moan.

Casey grins against your lips. “That’s what I thought.”

Casey doesn’t waste time. She yanks at your trousers, fingers deft as she unfastens them and shoves them down your hips, her impatience setting your skin on fire. Her body pins you to the door, pressing against your front, her thigh sliding between yours, forcing them apart.

“You made me fucking squirm today,” she murmurs against your lips, her breath warm, teasing. “I’m going to make sure you remember what that feels like.”

Her hand moves between your legs, fingers slipping beneath the damp fabric of your underwear, finding you already soaked. She lets out a low, satisfied hum. “Oh, you liked that, didn’t you?” Her fingers glide through your wetness, teasing, barely giving you what you want.

You try to grind against her hand, desperate for friction, but she tuts, pressing you harder against the door. “Not so cocky now, are you?”

“Casey... shit” Your voice is ragged, but she just smirks, dragging her fingers through your slick folds before finally circling your clit, slow, calculated, a sharp contrast to the heat crackling between you.

“I want to hear you,” she demands, her voice thick with control. She presses her fingers harder against you, rubbing deliberate circles, and a gasp rips from your throat.

She chuckles darkly. “That’s more like it.”

Her pace quickens, fingers working you with ruthless precision. Every flick, every stroke, sends you spiralling closer. Your body writhes, your hips rolling to chase the pleasure she doles out with maddening restraint. Fuck she was a tease.

Then, without warning, she sinks two fingers into you, deep, stretching you open in one smooth thrust.

“Fuck,” Your head thuds back against the door, your nails biting into her arms.

Casey growls against your throat, her fingers fucking into you with relentless precision, curling just right, dragging against that spot that makes you see stars. “God, you’re so fucking tight,” she breathes, her lips brushing your ear. “So eager to take what I give you.”

Your breath hitches, legs shaking as she fucks you harder, deeper, making sure her palm grinded against your clit. The pressure is unbearable, your body coiling tight, threatening to snap.

Casey watches you, her pupils blown wide, her own breath ragged. “Cum for me,” she orders, her voice rough, raw. “I want to feel it.”

The command sends you over the edge. Your body tenses, then shatters, pleasure ripping through you so fiercely your knees nearly give out. "Casey!" You cry out her name, your walls clenching around her fingers as the orgasm crashes over you, wave after wave of bliss consuming you.

Casey keeps moving, drawing it out, letting you ride the aftershocks until you’re trembling and barely able to stand.

Finally, she slows, withdrawing her fingers with an obscene wet sound.

You slump against the door, chest heaving, body still burning from the intensity of it. Casey leans in, pressing one last, teasing kiss against your swollen lips before stepping back, smoothing her blouse like she hadn’t just wrecked you.

“I think we’re even now,” she muses, but the glint in her eye says otherwise.

You manage a breathless laugh. “Liar.”

Casey grins, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Fine,” she concedes, pressing a final lingering touch to your jaw. “Then I guess I’ll just have to punish you again.”

Casey’s smirk deepens as she watches you struggle for breath, your body still trembling from the force of your orgasm. But she’s not done with you, not even close. And you had no problem with that at all.

She presses in again, one hand gripping your jaw, tilting your face up so you have no choice but to meet her gaze. Her fingers are still slick with your cum, and she drags them down your lips, smearing your taste against them before slipping two fingers past the seam, pressing them against your tongue.

“Suck,” she commands.

Your breath catches, but you obey, hollowing your cheeks as you take her fingers into your mouth, licking the evidence of your own orgasm from them. Casey groans low in her throat, her pupils blown wide as she watches you.

“Fuck,” she breathes, her free hand sliding down between your legs again, pushing your underwear aside. “You’re dripping, baby. You came all over my fucking fingers, and you’re still needy.”

She’s right, your pussy is soaked, slick coating your inner thighs. The sharp, unrelenting heat between you hasn’t faded; if anything, it’s only intensified. Fuck, you loved being at her mercy.

Casey chuckles darkly, dragging her fingers through your folds, gathering your wetness before pressing against your clit. Your hips jerk at the contact, a whimper slipping from your lips around her fingers.

“Sensitive?” she taunts, rubbing slow, deliberate circles over your swollen clit. “Too fucking bad.”

She yanks her fingers from your mouth, only to grab your hips and spin you around, pressing your chest against the door. Her body crowds against yours, her breath hot at your ear.

“You looked so fucking cocky in that courtroom today,” she growls, yanking your trousers and panties down in one rough motion. “Now look at you. Soaked. Desperate.” She drags her fingers through your slick folds again before shoving them deep into your pussy.

A sharp cry escapes you, your nails scratching against the wood as she fucks you from behind, her fingers relentless, curling just right, pressing deep.

“That’s it,” she rasps, fucking you harder. “Take it. Just like that.”

You’re helpless against the pleasure, your body arching and pushing back against her hand, chasing more. Casey feels it, groaning as she pumps her fingers faster, her palm grinding against your clit.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” she growls again, her free hand gripping your hip hard enough to bruise. “Gonna make you cum for me again. Gonna make you fucking scream.”

You’re already close, the pressure coiling tight in your belly, unbearable. Casey leans in, her teeth nipping at the curve of your shoulder as her fingers slam into you, unrelenting. "Please Case... please."

“You gonna cum for me, baby?” she purrs, her breath ragged against your skin. “Gonna soak my fucking hand?”

“Yes, fuck, Casey, I’m...”

She pushes her palm against your clit, and you shatter. Pleasure slams into you, a white-hot wave that rips through your body. You cry out, your pussy clenching around her fingers as you gush, soaking her hand, your thighs shaking violently.

Casey groans at the feeling, fucking you through it, dragging every last aftershock from your spent, trembling body before finally slowing, her fingers slipping from you, wet and glistening.

“God damn,” she murmurs, bringing her slick fingers to her mouth, licking them clean with a satisfied hum.

Your legs are weak, your body still shaking, but she doesn’t let you collapse. She turns you around, tilting your chin up, pressing a deep, filthy kiss against your lips.

When she pulls back, her smirk is sharp, dangerous. “I should humiliate you in court more often,” she muses, her voice thick with amusement.

You manage a breathless laugh, still dazed. “You’re a fucking menace.”

She grins, reaching down to fix her belt, her eyes still hungry as they rake over you. “And you love it.”

She’s right. And you already know this won’t be the last time. You were addicted now and you couldn't wait until your next encounter.

[spicyschemmenti]

THE CONTRACT ᥫ᭡ alex cabot, casey novak x fem!reader

PART ONE

you didn’t expect much when you moved in — just a fresh start, a quiet place, and maybe some privacy. but the neighbors next door are nothing like you imagined, and they’ve been watching you just as closely as you’ve watched them. one night, they offer you a contract — clear, structured, and full of promises you’ve only ever dreamed of obeying.

age gap, contract negotiation

calex masterlist (coming soon) calex taglist

You moved into the apartment next to theirs about a month ago. It wasn’t anything fancy — just a quiet street, tall brownstones, and a front door that didn’t stick when you turned the key. The place smelled like fresh paint and dust, and for the first time, it was just yours. No roommates, no shared kitchen, no socks left in the sink that weren’t yours. You were proud of that, even if most nights you sat cross-legged on the floor eating microwave dinners and calling it dinner.

But from the very first day, what stood out the most wasn’t the freedom. It was them.

They lived next door in a unit that always smelled like red wine and something floral — jasmine, maybe — and everything about them felt like another world.

You met Alex first. She was tall, with long blonde hair pulled back into something sleek and sharp, like she never had a strand out of place. Her heels clicked when she walked. Her suits were always dark and perfect, the fabric hugging her like it belonged there. She looked like someone important. Not just rich — dangerous. Like she could destroy you with a sentence and still say it gently. You passed her on the stairs with a box in your arms and she said, “You must be the new neighbor,” in a voice that made your knees go weak. You smiled too wide and said something dumb and tried not to stare at her mouth.

A day or two later, you saw Casey. She was different. Where Alex was composed, Casey was wild. Auburn curls that bounced when she walked, worn leather jackets and faded jeans that clung to her hips. Her eyes were green and sharp and playful, and her laugh — god, her laugh — it echoed through the hallways sometimes, deep and genuine and totally unfiltered. She called you “kid” the first time she saw you fumbling with your mailbox and winked before walking off. You stood there holding your mail and blushing for longer than you wanted to admit.

They were older. Definitely older. Maybe fifteen years, maybe more. You never asked, but you could feel it. Not in a bad way — it wasn’t about wrinkles or numbers. It was something in the way they moved, the way they looked at you like they already knew what you were going to say before you said it. They weren’t trying to figure life out anymore. They already had. And now they were watching you figure it out.

You didn’t mean to stare. Not really. But you did.

In the mornings, Casey would stretch on the front steps with her headphones in, tight tank tops riding up her stomach, skin shiny with sweat. You’d pretend to be checking your phone while your eyes followed the curve of her back, the way her sports bra dug into her skin.

And in the evenings, you’d hear the click of Alex’s heels before you saw her — always coming home after dark, always composed. Sometimes she’d stand out on the small shared balcony with a glass of wine and a cigarette in one hand, her eyes scanning the street like she was watching a case play out in her mind. Sometimes they were both out there, talking low, wine glasses in their hands, and you’d watch from behind your blinds, barely breathing, feeling like a pervert but unable to look away.

At night, you couldn’t stop thinking about them.

You’d close your eyes and imagine their hands on you — Alex holding you still with that quiet authority, whispering rules in your ear while you trembled under her gaze. Casey grinning, her voice low and filthy, her fingers inside you as she told you not to come until she said. You imagined being between them, both of them using you, teasing you, praising you.

You’d touch yourself with your face pressed into your pillow, hips grinding against your hand, their names tangled on your tongue in gasps and moans. Sometimes you came quickly. Other nights, you edged yourself until you were aching, imagining how they’d make you beg.

It was a fantasy. A deep one. An addictive one. You kept telling yourself that’s all it would ever be.

But then one afternoon, you found a package on your doorstep. Small. Brown paper. Neatly labeled — but it wasn’t for you. It had Alex’s name on it. You stared at it, heart skipping for reasons you couldn’t explain, and you stood there holding it for too long before finally knocking on their door.

Alex answered almost immediately.

She wasn’t in her usual suit this time. Just a soft white blouse with the sleeves rolled up to her forearms, the top two buttons undone. Her hair was pulled back loosely, a few pieces framing her face. She looked… soft, in a way that made your stomach flutter. But her eyes were sharp as ever. She looked at the box in your hands, then at your face, and smiled — not a warm smile. Not a neighborly one. Something else.

“Come in,” she said.

You didn’t even think. You stepped inside.

The air smelled like their place always did — wine, vanilla, something floral — but stronger, closer. The music was soft in the background, jazz playing low from a speaker. Everything was neat, but not sterile. The couch had a blanket tossed across it, a pair of wine glasses sat half-finished on the table. You felt like you’d stepped into a secret.

Casey was leaning against the kitchen counter, barefoot, in tight jeans and a black tank top. She looked you up and down and grinned. “Told you she’d show up.”

You tried to say something — maybe laugh, maybe ask a question — but your throat was tight. The air felt thick. Charged. This didn’t feel like returning a package. It felt like something was already happening.

In the middle of the room, on the dining table, was a single sheet of paper. Next to it, a pen. You stepped closer and looked down.

The title stopped your breath.

Mutual Consent & Exploration Agreement

You stared at it, not understanding.

Then Alex moved behind you. Her presence was quiet, but it wrapped around you like heat.

“We’ve seen the way you look at us,” she said. Her voice was low, close to your ear.

Casey pushed off the counter and came to stand in front of you. “We like the way you look,” she said, tilting her head. “Shy. Hungry. Like you don’t know what to do with yourself.”

Alex’s hand brushed your shoulder. “We’re offering you something. Not a fling. Not a game. Real control. Real structure. Real pleasure. If you want it.”

Casey tapped the paper. “It’s simple. Consent. Boundaries. Rules. You give yourself to us — when we say. You let us take control. Use you. Own you. Safely. Completely.”

Your mouth was dry. Your thighs pressed together. Your heart was pounding so loud you barely heard her next words.

“You don’t have to sign it. You can walk away. But if you don’t — if you do sign — you’re ours. Evenings. Weekends. Whatever we decide. And we’ll take care of everything.”

Casey’s fingers slid along your wrist. Her touch was warm, electric.

“Unless,” she added, voice dropping, “this was just a fantasy. Something you did under the covers, thinking of us.”

You looked up at her, startled. Her smirk said she already knew the answer.

Your fingers trembled as they reached for the pen.

Alex’s hand stayed on your shoulder, firm and steady.

“You’re making the right choice,” she whispered.

You’re still holding the pen, but now you’re aware of how your palm is starting to sweat. You shift slightly in the chair, legs crossed too tightly, heart thudding like it’s echoing through the walls. The words on the page in front of you are precise, formal — but there’s nothing dry about them. Not with Alex watching you from one side, and Casey was now circling the table like she’s deciding whether to kiss you or devour you.

“You’re quiet,” Casey murmurs, stopping behind you. Her hand brushes the back of your chair. “Is that nervous silence, or dirty daydreaming?”

You manage a shaky laugh and glance up at her over your shoulder. “Both?”

Casey grins. “Cute answer.”

Alex’s voice is smooth, low. “It’s the right one.”

You look between them — these two women who feel like too much and just enough all at once. You take a breath and try to steady your voice. “I’ve… never done anything like this before.”

Alex raises a brow but doesn’t look surprised. “Something like this…” she repeats gently, leaning in, “as in submission? Or just being in bed with two older women who want to ruin you properly?”

Your face heats instantly, but your thighs tighten instinctively, too.

Casey whistles softly. “Damn, she is cute when she blushes. You know,” she adds, moving to lean over the table in front of you, “that’s not a deal-breaker. It’s a bonus.”

You try to find words, something to hold onto. “I’ve thought about it. A lot. I’ve just never… done anything. With anyone. Not really.”

Alex stands, slow and deliberate, and walks around the table. Her fingers brush your chin, tilting it up until your eyes meet hers. “That’s not a flaw,” she says. “It just means your first real experience will be exactly how we want it to be — intense, controlled, careful. Memorable.”

Casey leans on the table beside you, close enough that you feel her warmth along your arm. “And you’ll have two very, very attentive teachers.”

You exhale slowly, chest rising too fast. “So I’d be… yours?”

“For as long as you want to be,” Alex says.

“For as long as we can make you beg to stay,” Casey adds, eyes gleaming.

The teasing makes your core ache. You squeeze your thighs and try not to squirm, but they notice. Of course they notice.

“You’re already halfway there,” Casey murmurs, her gaze dropping. “We haven’t even touched you properly yet.”

“You’ll learn,” Alex says, still holding your chin. “You’ll learn how to breathe for us. How to open for us. How to ask for more when you can’t take any more. And we’ll be right there — every moment. Making sure you’re ready. Making sure it’s right.”

Your lips part, but no sound comes out. There’s only heat, thick and humming inside you.

“Sign it,” Casey says softly. “We’ll take care of everything after that.”

You don’t think. You just lower the pen, let your hand move across the line, and sign your name.

The moment the ink dries, Alex takes the paper. There’s a slight smile on her lips — the kind that says she’s been waiting for this.

“Good girl,” she says.

And it lands inside you like a shock, a thrill, a reward.

Casey’s hand slides across your thigh, warm and slow.

“Now,” she murmurs, “let’s see what our new plaything’s made of.”

[wwemcumuscleslover]

Imagine these Four in a Room

[wlwnovak]

"No Objections"

Casey Novak x witness!reader

Casey spends weeks preparing you for trial. What started as professional becomes something more complicated.

You hadn’t meant to become important to anyone—especially not her.

Your involvement in the case was a fluke of circumstance. Wrong place, right time. A late walk home from your shift at the gallery, a shortcut through an alley, and the echo of something terrible unfolding nearby. You hadn’t seen everything, but what you had seen turned out to be the missing piece.

The detectives were cold and efficient. Olivia Benson had been kind. But nothing unnerved you more than sitting across from Assistant District Attorney Casey Novak the first time.

She was all sharp lines and clean questions, dressed like she didn’t have time to be tired. Her eyes missed nothing. She took one look at you, flustered and quiet on that first day, and said, “You’re not used to being in rooms like this, are you?”

You hadn’t been.

But she made it easier. Not by softening—never that. She wasn’t warm, but she was anchoring. Her certainty made you feel less like a civilian and more like something steady. Like someone who mattered.

As the weeks passed, your role in the trial grew. You weren’t just a witness—you were the witness. The hinge of the whole case. So you came to her office. Again and again. After work. Before shifts. Sometimes on your lunch breaks.

At first, it was all business. Scripted testimony. Cross-examination drills. Tense silences and notes scribbled in the margins of your statements.

Then it changed.

Slowly. Quietly. In the in-between spaces.

She’d hand you coffee without asking how you took it. You’d bring her snacks when her lunch went cold on her desk. She started walking you to the elevator instead of waving you off from her chair.

She never said anything. You didn’t either. But you felt it. That something simmering beneath all the rules, the law, the paperwork. Something new, exciting and magnetic.

You couldnt figure out if it was real or just part of your imagination. Was Casey feeling it too? You couldn't tell.

But you wanted to believe she felt it too.

The trial was about to come to an end and you were running out of time.

The idea of never seeing her again made your chest ache in a way you weren’t prepared for.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~////~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The walls of the ADA’s office feel colder than the courtroom. You sit in the familiar chair across from Casey Novak, watching her skim through the case file like she hasn’t memorized every word of it.

You’ve been here before. Many times.

For the last month, you’ve met with her nearly every week—sometimes more—reviewing testimony, going over statements, picking apart your memory until you questioned whether any of it had really happened.

And she’s the one who put you back together, piece by piece.

You know her routines now. The way she triple-checks every detail before trial. How she plays with her pen when she's feeling tense. The sharp edge of her voice when she gets interrupted—and the rare softness that slips through when she forgets to guard herself.

You’d spent hours in this room, just the two of you. And somewhere along the way, something started to shift.

You don’t know what it means. You just know that your stomach flips every time she looks at you too long.

"This is the part where I tell you not to get nervous on the stand," she says now, still scanning the folder, "but you’re already nervous, aren’t you?"

Your voice is quieter than you mean it to be. "Is it that obvious?"

She finally looks up. There’s something in her eyes—not just professionalism. Something else. Something that’s been hovering between the two of you for weeks.

"No," she says. "But I’ve done this long enough to know the signs."

Her gaze lingers. You force yourself to look away first.

She talks you through your testimony—again. You already know it by heart, but she does it anyway. Maybe because she knows you're afraid. Maybe because she doesn’t want this time to end either.

When the prep ends, you hesitate by the door.

"Thanks for everything," you say. "I don’t think I could’ve done this without you."

"It’s my job," she replies. But her voice has gone softer.

Still, you don’t know what you are to her—just another witness, another piece of the puzzle? Or something else?

You leave before you do something reckless. Like ask her to coffee. Or tell her how much you’ve looked forward to every excuse to see her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~/////~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The jury came back with a veredict: Guilty.

You don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath until the verdict is read. It’s over. You did it. You helped someone get justice. But all you can think about is that you might never see her again.

You find her outside the courtroom, away from the reporters, the noise, the chaos.

She looks tired but... lighter. She notices you before you speak.

"You did good," she says.

"So did you," you reply. "I was wondering... Would it be weird if I asked you to get a drink?" You couldn't believe you asked her.

She looks at you like she’s trying to solve a riddle. "With me?"

You almost regret asking. "It’s just—we’ve spent a lot of time together, and I figured... maybe celebrate? But if that’s not something you do—"

She holds up a hand, a small smile tugging at her lips. "No. I just wasn’t expecting it."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\\\\\~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bar is quiet, low-lit, tucked away from the city noise. You slide into a booth, trying not to feel awkward.

Casey shrugs off her coat, unbuttons the collar of her blouse, and sinks into the seat across from you like she’s finally allowed to breathe.

She orders a whiskey, neat. You order something lighter. She arches a brow.

"You strike me as a whiskey person," you say, trying to hide your nerves.

She smirks. "And you strike me as a lightweight."

You laugh, and something inside you unwinds.

The first drink disappears fast—so does the tension. You talk about the trial a little, but she steers the conversation elsewhere. It’s easier that way. Less dangerous.

Then comes the second round.

You’re both a little warmer now. Looser. She leans in when she talks. Her gaze lingers.

The third round shows up. The music gets louder, making it almost impossible to hear eachother from across the table.

"This is ridiculous," she mutters, and without asking, slides into the booth next to you.

"I’m not making a move," she says, half-grinning. "This is purely tactical."

But her thigh presses against yours. Her fingers brush your sleeve when she laughs. Her voice dips lower with every word.

She’s getting tipsy now—flushed cheeks, glassy eyes—but she never once loses her sharpness. You’re not sure if she’s flirting with you or just letting her guard down. Either way, it’s unraveling you.

You nurse your drink, fingers tracing the rim of the glass. You’re quieter now, but not from nerves. You were sad.

Finally, you say it, voice low and honest:

"Now that the trial is over, it’s gonna be so weird not seeing you anymore. Seeing you was... kinda part of my routine."

She turns her head toward you slowly. Her expression softens, that familiar guarded look flickering away.

"You really mean that?"

You nod. "I didn’t realize how much I looked forward to it. Being around you."

The music swells around you—too loud, too chaotic for a moment like this. She leans in closer to hear you better, close enough that her shoulder presses against yours.

"I looked forward to it too," she admits, voice quiet.

Neither of you looks away.

You’re sure she’s going to say something else, something clever to ease the tension—but instead, she shifts a little closer. Her hand grazes your knee beneath the table, maybe by accident, maybe not.

She doesn’t say anything at first. Just stares at you, eyes a little glassy, her plump lips parted like she might say something that never comes.

Then—

Her phone rings.

The sound slices through the moment like a blade. She jumps, blinking hard. Fumbles for her phone and stares at the screen.

"Ugh," she mutters, declining the call. "I still don't know how that reporter got my phone number"

But the spell is broken.

You glance at the time, then at her. Her posture is a little slumped now. Her hand is still close to yours, but it’s twitching like she’s debating reaching out again.

"Maybe we should call it a night," you say gently. "You’re definitely not walking home like this. Come on. I’ll walk you."

She looks at you, lips parted in protest, then just sighs. "You don't have to"

"I wasn't asking." You smile "Come on"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\\\\~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The night air is cooler than you expected. Casey clings to your arm at first, her heels unsteady on the pavement, but she laughs it off with muttered curses at whoever invented cobblestones.

She sobers slightly by the time you reach her building. She stares up at it like it’s tilted sideways.

"Thanks for walking me," she says.

You nod, brushing some hair from your face. "Get some water, okay? Maybe sleep for a year."

But she hesitates at the door.

Then, with a strange mix of defiance and vulnerability, she says, "You should come up."

You meet her eyes unable to form an answer.

She smiles. "Just for a bit. We both need some water and I could call you a taxi."

But something in her voice suggests otherwise.

“Come” she said casually as she opened the front door.

You hesitated. She raised an eyebrow.

“I'm not asking " She mocks. "Come on. Don’t make me drink water alone.”

You followed her in.

Inside, the apartment was cozy and warm. You helped her into the kitchen, fetched a glass of water, then dropped onto the couch with a tired sigh.

“oh no,” you muttered. “I shouldn’t have done that… I won’t be able to stand up again.”

Casey laughed, flopping beside you, her head tilted back. “Yeah. That’s the trap.”

You yawned, feeling the full weight of the trial and the drinks crash into you. Your limbs were heavy, your eyelids drooping.

She looked over at you, voice gentler now. “You can stay. If you want.”

You blinked. “Stay?”

“You can stay here on the couch. I’ll grab a blanket.”

You stared at her, and she gave you a sleepy, sincere smile.

“Just stay,” she said again.

You hesitated for just a second, then nodded. “Okay… yeah. I’ll stay.”

Casey smiled softly. “Good. You’ll regret trying to get home in this state anyway.” She stood, a little wobbly, and motioned toward the hallway. “Come on, I’ll get you something to wear.”

You followed her down the narrow corridor to her bedroom. She moved toward a dresser, pulling open a drawer and rummaging through it until she found her "sex crimes" baseball t-shirt and a pair of old sleep shorts.

“Here,” she said, turning and holding them out to you.

You stepped forward to take them, but your hand brushed hers—light, accidental, and yet electric.

Neither of you moved for a second.

You looked up, and Casey was already looking at you, her eyes flicking from your hand to your face. Something shifted in the air—again—but this time, neither of you looked away.

Then, slowly, as if pushed by gravity, you leaned toward each other. You could feel the warmth of her breath, smell the faint scent of her perfume still lingering despite the long day. And then—

She kissed you.

Or maybe you kissed her. It didn’t matter. Her lips were soft and slow, a little hesitant at first, but then bolder, hungrier. Her hand came to rest lightly on your waist. The fabric she’d handed you fell to the floor, forgotten.

You pulled her closer without thinking, your fingers curling into the fabric of her shirt as she deepened the kiss with a low hum in the back of her throat.

All the tension, all the doubt, all the long hours spent staring across her office desk and wondering—none of it mattered now. This was happening.

And neither of you wanted to stop.

Eventually, Casey pulled back, just enough to rest her forehead against yours. Her breath was shallow, and a slow smile crept across her lips.

“Well,” she murmured, eyes still closed, “that wasn’t in the official trial prep.”

You let out a breathy laugh, still catching your bearings. “No objections, though.”

Casey chuckled, and you both stood there in the dim hallway, wrapped in the warmth of whatever this moment was—soft and tentative, but real.

She bent down and picked up the pajamas from the floor, brushing them off before handing them back to you. “Still want these?”

You nodded, smiling. “Yeah. Still planning on crashing on your couch.”

"You know....my bed is really big and probably way more comfortable than a couch" She said with a smirk.

"You sure?"

She grinned and nudged you toward the bathroom. “Go change”

You slipped into the bathroom, heart still racing, cheeks warm. When you came out in her borrowed clothes, you had to pinch yourself to see if this was actually happening.

You followed her quietly back to the bedroom. The sheets were cool, the room dim. She climbed in first and pulled the covers back for you. You hesitated a second before sliding in beside her.

You lay on your side, facing her, your hand awkwardly hovering like it wanted to reach for hers but wasn’t sure if it should. Casey noticed and gave you a soft, knowing smile.

“Hey,” she whispered.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t mind if you’re close.”

You smiled shyly, scooting forward until your foreheads nearly touched, your legs brushing beneath the blankets. You didn’t dare hold her yet—but you were near. Warm. Comfortable.

She looked up at you, her expression a mix of tiredness and something softer. “Sleep well, okay? Let me know if you nees anything”

“Goodnight, Casey.”

She paused. “Hey y/n?” You opened your eyes.

“It wasn’t just the drinks you know?” she said quietly.

You smiled at her confession, heart swelling with something gentle and deep. Without thinking too hard about it, you shifted closer and slipped an arm around her waist, snuggling into the warmth of her body.

Casey didn’t pull away.

In fact, she let out the softest sigh, relaxed into you, and tucked her face into the curve of your neck like it was the most natural thing in the world.

There were no more words. Just her breathing, steady and close. Her hand resting lightly against your back.

And for once in your life, as sleep began to pull you under, you felt wanted.

[undercoverprentiss]

hands on lesson ᯓᡣ𐭩 c.novak

PAIRING: casey novak x pornstar!fem!reader

TEASER: You lean in, licking up the length of her slit before sucking her clit into your mouth, flicking your tongue over the swollen bud. Casey screams, her hands flying to your hair, gripping hard, holding you against her like she never wants you to stop.

Her thighs clamp around your head, her pussy pulsing around your fingers, and you love it—love the way she’s falling apart for you, love the way she can’t control the wrecked little sounds spilling from her lips.

CONTENT WARNINGS: fingering (f!receiving), oral (f!receiving), swearing, both are drinking, face riding

Casey’s apartment is dimly lit, the air thick with whiskey and unspoken tension. The ice in her glass clinks as she takes another slow sip, trying to act casual, but she’s been restless all night—stealing glances at you, shifting in her seat, lips parting like she wants to say something but can’t quite bring herself to do it.

You stretch out on her couch, one leg draped lazily over her lap, watching her struggle. It’s fucking adorable.

"Okay, Novak." You smirk, tilting your glass in her direction. "You’ve been looking at me like I just perjured myself in court. What’s up?"

She lets out a sharp breath, swirling the amber liquid in her glass before finally meeting your gaze. "I have… questions."

Your brow arches. "Questions?"

"About your job."

Oh. Ohhh.

A slow grin spreads across your lips. "Are you telling me you’ve been watching my videos, Counselor?"

She groans, tipping her head back against the couch. "God, don’t say it like that."

"Like what?" You lean in, letting your voice drop lower, sultry, teasing. "Like you’ve been getting off to me? Like you’ve been watching me fuck other people and wondering what it’d be like if it were you?"

Her jaw tightens, but the pink creeping down her throat betrays her.

"I just—" She exhales sharply. "I have been watching. And I don’t understand how you do some of the shit you do."

You chuckle, licking your lips. "You wanna learn?"

She swallows hard. "I—I wouldn’t even know where to start."

Lucky for her, you’re an excellent teacher.

You set your glass down and shift, straddling her lap in one slow, deliberate motion. Casey stiffens, hands hovering near your hips like she doesn’t know if she should grab you or shove you off. But the moment you grind down, just enough to let her feel the heat between your legs, her grip tightens, fingers digging into your waist.

"Lesson one," you murmur, threading your fingers into her hair, tilting her head back just enough to bare her throat. "Kissing."

Her lips part like she wants to argue, but you don’t give her the chance. You kiss her soft, slow, teasing, barely touching, just a whisper of breath and heat. Casey shudders beneath you, then chases your lips, desperate, groaning into your mouth when you finally let her have you.

She tastes like whiskey and something sweet, and fuck, she kisses like she argues—stubborn, passionate, full of fire. You drag your tongue along her bottom lip before sucking it into your mouth, making her whimper.

"Fuck," she breathes when you pull back, lips swollen, her pupils blown wide.

You smirk, rolling your hips against her again. "Yeah, baby. We’re just getting started."

Her head tips back against the couch, eyes half-lidded, already drunk off you. But you’re nowhere near finished.

"Lesson two." You pop open the buttons of her blouse, one by one, teasing your fingertips along the soft, freckled skin you reveal. "Confidence. Taking what you want."

"I want—" Her voice catches as you push her shirt off her shoulders, exposing smooth, warm skin. You trail slow, open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone, biting just enough to make her squirm.

"Tell me," you murmur against her skin, lips ghosting over the swell of her breasts. "Use your words, Counselor."

She shudders, nails pressing into your thighs. "I want you to fuck me."

You grin against her skin. "Good girl."

Sliding down her body, you tug at the zipper of her skirt, yanking it off along with her panties, until she’s completely bare beneath you. Your breath catches in your throat.

Holy fuck.

Casey’s pussy is soaked, slick glistening in the low light, her folds already swollen and flushed a deep pink. Her clit is hard, peeking out from between soft, wet lips, and fuck—you want to ruin her.

"You’re so wet for me, Case," you murmur, dragging your fingers through the mess between her thighs. She whimpers, hips jerking at the lightest touch.

"Shut up," she pants, but her voice is shaky, desperate.

You smirk, circling her clit with your thumb as you slide two fingers through her slick folds, teasing. "Soaked, baby. You must’ve been thinking about this all night."

She gasps as you push one finger inside, then another, stretching her open. She’s tight, hot, so fucking warm, and you groan at how she clenches around your fingers, sucking you in like she was made for this.

"Jesus," she chokes out, thighs trembling around your hand.

"God, you feel good," you groan, curling your fingers inside her, searching—there.

Her entire body jerks, a strangled moan ripping from her throat as you press against that sweet spot, slow and relentless.

"Fuck—fuck—fuck," she gasps, back arching.

You lean in, licking up the length of her slit before sucking her clit into your mouth, flicking your tongue over the swollen bud. Casey screams, her hands flying to your hair, gripping hard, holding you against her like she never wants you to stop.

Her thighs clamp around your head, her pussy pulsing around your fingers, and you love it—love the way she’s falling apart for you, love the way she can’t control the wrecked little sounds spilling from her lips.

"You gonna cum for me, baby?" you murmur, voice muffled against her soaked cunt.

"Yes—fuck—don’t stop—"

You don’t. You curl your fingers harder, fucking into her deep and fast, tongue flicking over her clit, relentless, until—

"Oh my fucking God—"

She shatters.

Her body tenses, then breaks, pussy clenching down around your fingers as she cums hard, her entire body shaking. She sobs your name, bucking against your mouth, riding the waves of her orgasm as you work her through it, dragging it out until she’s a trembling, whimpering mess beneath you.

Finally, when she’s too sensitive to take any more, you ease your fingers out, pressing a final kiss to her clit before sitting back, licking her wetness from your fingers as you watch her struggle to catch her breath.

"Lesson three," you murmur, voice dark and sweet. "Stamina."

Casey’s eyes flicker open, and fuck—there’s something dangerous in them now.

"Oh, you’re so fucked," she growls, yanking you onto your back.

Casey stares down at you, chest rising and falling, her lips still swollen from your kisses, her thighs trembling from the orgasm you just dragged out of her. But there’s something new in her eyes now—determination, a fire that wasn’t there before. She looks like she wants to tear you apart.

"You think you’re in charge here?" she mutters, voice wrecked but still full of that stubborn fire.

You smirk, dragging your fingers up her inner thighs, feeling her shudder at your touch. "I know I am, baby."

Before she can argue, you grab the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head, tossing it aside, leaving yourself bare from the waist up. Casey’s gaze drops to your tits, her lips parting slightly as she takes you in.

"Like what you see?" you tease, reaching for the button of your jeans.

Instead of answering, she grabs your waistband and yanks, helping you shove them down along with your panties, until you're as naked as she is. The second your clothes hit the floor, she’s on you, pressing her body against yours, kissing you hungry and desperate. Her hands are rough, fingers digging into your sides as she grinds against your bare skin, letting you feel just how wrecked she still is from your mouth.

You let her take control for a moment, let her get lost in it, before you pull back, gripping her jaw and tilting her head up to meet your gaze. "You’re not done learning yet, Counselor."

Her breath stutters, but she doesn’t pull away.

You push her back just enough to maneuver yourself onto the chair, reclining against the cushions, spreading your legs, your bare, wet pussy on display for her. Casey’s eyes darken, locked onto you, her hands clenching at her sides like she’s fighting the urge to touch.

"Come here," you command, voice smooth and firm.

She swallows, then obeys, climbing onto the chair with you, straddling your stomach.

"No," you correct, grabbing her hips and shifting her up—higher, higher, until her knees are planted on either side of your head. You tug her forward until her soaked pussy hovers just above your mouth, her scent thick, sweet, making your mouth water.

"Sit," you order, voice husky.

Her breath catches. "I—I don’t wanna smother—"

You laugh, low and sinful, squeezing her thighs. "Baby, I want you to use me." You slide your hands up her body, cupping her breasts, thumbs circling her nipples. "I want you to ride my fucking face."

Casey whimpers, then slowly lowers herself onto your mouth. The moment her slick heat presses against your lips, you groan, dragging your tongue through her folds, savoring the taste of her. She’s so wet, dripping for you, her pussy soft and hot and perfect.

You press your tongue flat against her clit and suck.

"Fuck!" Casey shudders, hands flying to the back of the chair, gripping for balance as she grinds against your mouth, her thighs tightening around your head.

"That’s it," you murmur between flicks of your tongue. "Take what you need."

She does.

She moves hesitantly at first, rolling her hips, rubbing her swollen clit against your tongue, testing. But then she gets bolder, her rhythm growing rougher, more desperate. You let her use you, let her chase the pleasure, drinking down every drop of her slick, tongue fucking into her before dragging back up to her clit, making her sob above you.

You reach up, cupping her tits, rolling her stiff nipples between your fingers. Casey gasps, arching her back, pushing into your hands, her moans turning needy, helpless.

"Oh my God," she whimpers, voice shaking, her hips jerking against your mouth. "I—fuck, I’m gonna—"

You pinch her nipples hard and suck her clit into your mouth at the same time.

Casey screams.

Her entire body locks up, thighs clenching, pussy gushing against your tongue as she cums, grinding through it, riding your face like she can’t stop, like she’s never felt anything this good before. Her breath is ragged, shattered, and you keep your mouth on her, keep teasing her through every wave, until she’s whimpering, twitching, completely wrecked above you.

Finally, she collapses, sliding off your mouth, her body limp and spent.

You lick your lips, grinning. "Now you’re learning, Counsellor."

[wandasaura]

HABEAS CORPUS

summary — after hours of casey’s relentless teasing, you come before her to plead for either her mouth or her fingers

warning(s) — established relationship, straight up pwp, light dom/sub dynamics, maybe slight power dynamics, check-ins, public sex, office sex, fucking on desk, courthouse, lawyers, teasing, undressing, hickies, nipple stimulation, clit stimulation, grinding, implied dry humping, slight sadism, very minimal verbal humiliation, begging, edging, oral, fingering, praise kink, alludes to exhibition kink, pet names, hair pulling, biting, stripping, brief mention of bratty reader, lingerie, mention of dirty texts, casey novak is 5’10 and we don’t talk about it enough, slight aftercare, men/minors dni

authors note — went down a rabbit hole of svu actors height and um… respectfully was anyone gonna tell me alex and casey are both nearly six foot. enjoy :)

“Take it off.” The command is directed breathily against your swollen lips, saliva creating a bridge between your mouths before the tether snaps and you’re standing on your own beneath Casey’s gaze. Her hands fall away from your sides, the material of your blouse is wrinkled from the tight pressure of her knuckles keeping you stationary. Her hands had pulled your hips into hers in the middle of the lavish office until she could grind the button of her slacks into your core, her hips situated just right between yours that every desperate attempt to move the situation along had only further decapitate you, building up pleasure that overwhelmed you but has no release without her fingers or her mouth to move the process along.

“You take it off.” You counter, because you’ve been waiting for this moment all day, and you don’t have time for her games right now. You know the game she wants to play, the one where she drags every orgasm out of you at a snails pace, the game where she overrides your body with pleasure until you don’t know what hurts or what feels good. Casey Novak is a damn good lay, but she’s testing patience you don’t even have beneath your belt right now. “Casey, I swear to god, take it off.” You lean in to kiss her again, and she complies, acting like she’s downright starved as she pressed her face closer, suctioning your top lip between hers and nipping at the blood filled skin that begins to turn purple the longer she abuses it.

“You’re bossy.” Casey notes when she pulls away, panting for breath with flushed cheeks that indicate you’ve done your job well even if she’d taken control of the kiss within seconds. She seems to have forgotten that she’d given you the order to take your clothes off, because she grapples with the hem of your blouse, tugging and twisting, creating wrinkles for the hell of it because she knows what it does to you when sex is evident on your clothes. “You still okay with giving up control?” She asks, because if she doesn’t, it’ll eat her up inside until you realize something’s tainting her mood and try to rewrite whatever false narrative she’s run away with whilst you were unaware.

“I’m sure.” You oblige her need for confirmation, holding onto her wrists with hands that are desperate to guide hers lower, between your legs, to the place that’s been aching for her touch since she’d had the audacity to send you downright vile texts between her days worth of hearings. “Just get to it already, Novak.”

“That would be so much easier if you would just listen.” She delivers the last word with a motion of her fingers that you haven’t even noticed has slipped to the loops of your pants. She pulls you close again and you shriek with giggles, dropping your head onto her chest before you raise your glance, kissing her deeply because she’s impossible to quit.

“You’ve never liked a laid out case.” You hum, distracted by your sudden task of marking her neck with red welts that’ll fade by tomorrow morning. They’re not your finest work, they’re sloppy and half formed, but they get your point across and Casey’s head lulls to the side while her fingers work on your zipper, encouraging you to continue on with your ministrations.

“No, but I like you all laid out for me. Pretty and begging. You look so sweet like that, honey. All eager and dripping for me.” Your pants drop to your ankles the second she lowers them an inch, your hips too slim to keep them up as you lose the extra weight you’d seen fill your body out during the winter. She grapples at your top again, the light blue shade a new addition for the spring season ahead of you, and the contrast with her milky digits as she tells you to raise your arms is alluring in its own right. “A pretty little set. Did you want this, my love?”

Casey’s fingers tease your nipples through the white lace bra you’d picked out after your shower that morning. The thin lace leaves nothing to the imagination, and your pebbled buds protrude against their restraints, aching to be relieved by her fingers but all they do is pinch and prod with intricate and sadism.

When your face contorts, a wrinkle of pain finally tearing through the pleasure, Casey hums like she’s sorry, but her grip never loosens. “Come on, answer me, princess. Did you pick out this pretty set just for me? Just so that I could take it off in my office? In the courthouse, before everyone’s gone home for the night. When Judge Donnelly can still knock on the door and ask me for a consultation?”

“Fuck, Casey.” You groan, your head falling back, your chest rising and falling as you draw in desempate breaths, winded just by her teasing ministrations. “Yes, yes I picked it out for you. Just take it off already. Please.”

“Begging already and I haven’t even touched you yet, princess.” Casey tsks, her fingers finally leaving your oversensitive nipples to loop around your back, unclamping your three prong bra with little struggle despite going in blind. “God, I love you.” Casey groaned, her face pushing into your breasts the instant they were free of white lace, the dainty bra clattering to the ground to be picked up later.

“Why don’t you prove it?” You whined, allowing your fingers to tangle into her hair and pull her head up. A sharp wince leaves Casey’s lips, the sting in her scalp unexpected, but she meets your lips in a steaming kiss like you’d hoped for, and somewhere in the process she’d started walking you back until the small of your back hit her desk, and there was nowhere else for you to run. Casey pulled away, only because she needed a breath of air, but took the chance to utilize your physical separation.

Her hands pushed at your shoulders, and you dropped down onto the desk dutifully, thankfully that she kept a tidy space and your blind trust in her didn’t lead you to laying on a stapler or one of her seven hundred yellow highlighters because she refuses to use another color and buys them by bulk like a freak. It’s not important now though, so you force the thought of her in a Staples with a shopping cart full of ‘yearly highlighters’ in front of her.

Casey held onto either one of your thighs, pushing your body until you weren’t so awkwardly arranged in front of her. She hummed, spreading your legs, her fingertips trailing up the insides of your thighs and leaving a trail of goosebumps in her wake. Your hips jump, eager to guide her touch to the pleading parts of your body, but she’s resilient in her reserve and keeps her touches to only the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs.

”You know why white’s my favorite color?” Casey asked softly, hovering above you, red hair falling around your face as she leans down to kiss your lips. A gasp tumbles off of your lips when a single finger sweeps across your folds over your panties, and then her finger presses into your hole, the tension of your panties not allowing her to press any farther irritates you, and a pitiful whine falls off of your lips as you eagerly kiss her back and wildly grind your hips into her pleasure. “Once you get it wet… there’s nothing to hide anymore. And, baby, you’re drenched. These panties are practically see through. That cute little clit is just throbbing, begging me for attention isn’t it?” Casey’s thumb pressed against your sensitive bud, and you wail in pleasure as your muscles tense.

“Casey, baby, you’re driving me crazy.” You tell her, because you can’t think of another way to get your desperation across anymore. Your hips are wild, maintaining a mind of their own as her fingers still taunt and tease you through the barrier of your soft undies. They’d been comfortable for a while, but as she spreads your wetness, presses the material into your weeping core, it’s uncomfortable and sticky, and the longer she keeps you spread open, the air cools down your warmth, and you're not sure how much longer you can take the contradicting feeling of sex without the promise of relief on the cusp of washing over you.

Casey only giggles, evidently proud of herself, but before you can get bratty on her, the tide turning in your tummy as she prolongs her torture based on her own desires, she hooks her fingers into the waistband of the lace, not a thong because pacing a courtroom all day in a thong sounds miserable, but the cheeky coverage drives Casey crazy because they’re so entirely you. Soft, unexpecting, delicate and pretty, but they invite more than what the eye can see. They don’t fool her for a second. They’re not from Victoria’s Secret like the rest of your undergarments are, because you’d found as a teenager that their holiday sales are a bargain and have never abandoned your tactics, even if you have the money now to get as many pairs of underwear as you want. These are from a boutique in Jersey. The white pearl beading on the side is evidence of their quality, and Casey remembers seeing a red pair in the window the last time you’d ventured out of the City in need of something different. You may be sweet, arguably delicate though capable of cutting deep, but she’s unmade anything innocent about you a long time ago.

You groan when your arousal sticks to the fabric, you can feel the stringy evidence of your pleasure as she pulls and pulls at your panties, and when it snaps, breaks clean in half, it splashes against your thigh and Casey isn’t blind. She licks a bold stripe up your inner thigh, collecting all of the wetness that has accumulated there at her teasing. Her tongue swirls and hollows at varying points of your body, but when she reaches the crevices between your thigh and your folds, you go crazy, your eyes fluttering shut as you breathily plead with her to finish the job.

You think she’s going to comply when she licks a soft stripe up your slit, her tongue pushing through your folds until she can swallow your arousal that drips from your entrance. Her chin gleams with evidence of your pleasure when she lifts her head, tapping your thigh, still fully clothed by looking rather disheveled.

“Bend over for me, baby girl.” She tells you softly, losing a fraction of her edge as she takes in the slight crease in your brow, the position weighing against your bones and joints that have been strained at an awkward and uncomfortable angle to maintain this position for her. You’re definitely going to feel this tomorrow, and she hasn’t done anything worth deep body aches yet.

When your feet are firmly planted on the floor again, you take a minute to stretch out your back, and Casey’s more than happy to wait in front of you with lust filled eyes as you get yourself ready for whatever comes next. When your nipples meet the cold wood, you shiver, ready to back away and rethink this strategy, but Casey forces you down with a hand on your back, one hand trailing lower until it could play with your still pleading clit.

“What do you want, my love? Fingers or tongue.” She asks, tailing kisses from the nape of your neck all the way down the center of your back until she reaches the place where her hand still keeps you down. You don’t want to get away anymore, the wood has already warmed to your body heat, but she doesn’t relent, and you’re not going to complain about the weigh tof her hand pinning you down.

“You pick.” You gasp, your knuckles becoming white from how harshly you dig your blunt fingertips into the glazed wood, grounding yourself to anything that you could as the tantalizing sensations of her fingers teasing your folds worked you up to dumbness.

“No, I want to hear it from you. What do you want, baby? My fingers,” Casey slowly trails the hand on the small of your back down to your waist, but your eyes are pinched together tightly, your focus hazy and scattered. You don’t notice that she drops to her knees as trails off, but then a single finger is plunging into your walls and your eyes fly open, wide and unfocused as you see sparks of white pleasure. They contract against her knuckles, attempting to pull her in deeper, and she complies with the unconscious demands of your body for just long enough to have you believing this will lead to your explosion, but then her fingers fall away from you and a chill of cold assaults your abandoned core. “Or my mouth.” Her tongue replaces her fingers, dipping in and out of your hole, but then it flicks up to your clit, testing it’s sensitivity once, twice, three times with flicks of the hot muscle, and then her lips are wrapping around it, suckling a rhymic pattern that’s stable enough to drive you near the brink again, for the third time.

“Please!” Your voice cracks, it wavers, but you don’t raise it above a whisper. Your self control is impeccable, Casey’s made sure of that, because even in a state of half awareness, you still remember that you can’t be as loud as you’d like.

“I need an answer.” She tells you, pulling away just as your thighs began to tremble. She licks her lips, wipes at her chin, uses the dampness on her fingers to push into your hole again, two fingers, scissoring your open and searching for that spot that blows your mind. She’s delaying the inevitable. You know that she knows where it is. She’s never had a problem finding it before, but she’s waiting for your answer, serious in her desire to hear it from you.

”Fingers!” You answer eventually, when you can’t take the steady pace or the deep pulse of need anymore. Casey doesn’t hesitate to give you everything she’s been withholding, practically jackhammering her fingers into your core with sharp motions that provoke obscene squelching sounds in the otherwise quiet office. “Oh fuck!” Your reserve breaks for a single moment, blinded by the sensations she’s creating in your tummy, and within seconds she’s putting a hand over your mouth, muffling the breathy pants and needy whines with her palm instead of telling you to be quiet, because she does not want that to happen under any condition.

Every moan vibrates her skin, reminds her that she’s the one unraveling you like this, creating so much pleasure in your body that you can’t even keep your eyes open or your thighs from trembling and threatening to snap shut at the slightest instance of too much pressure on your g-spot. “Fuck, I love you.” Casey groans, the sensation of your weeping walls around her fingers intoxicating, rewarding enough to state her own desires for the time being, entirely content to just unmake you as best as she can.

Her lips kiss your skin, her body once again pinning yours to the desk, keeping you still as she continues her ministrations between your legs, her fingers playing with your clit like they’re plucking tuned chords. You gasp when her thumb rubs a near perfect counter clockwise circle on your clit, the final straw that has you grappling for control as you face the peak of the mountain, one sweep of her fingers away from plunging head first into the abyss.

“You get so tight when you’re close, baby. Squeeze my fingers, don’t want to let ‘em go.” She groans, and you do the same, whimpering into her palm as she drives you closer and closer to the brink. “I know you’re close. Come on, cum for me. Let go, let go. Don’t fight it, just let it happen.”

It only takes one curl of her fingers to break you, your body spasming in pleasure that shoots through your veins like a rocket. There’s fireworks at your fingertips, a tingling sensation in your legs and your spine and your arms, though you know your spine in just numbness from the strain of the position when your head clears enough to recognize Casey pulling her fingers out of your core and sucking them clean, not risking another pair of slacks to stains that she does not want to explain to the DA. She doesn’t mind. Your taste is addictive, nothing like the sweet nectar she’s read in so many novels throughout her life, but so distinctly you that she’s grown to chase the high of it’s delicate weight on her tastebuds.

“Help me up.” You whine softly, and Casey laughs, helping you stand. You wobble on your feet until you crash into her chest, and she smiles fondly as she stumbles back until the both of you are on the couch, your naked body curled into hers. “It’s been a while since you’ve been in a mood at work.”

“Yeah well, I’ve been on homicide clean up duty all day and apparently murder gets me going.” She tells you, and had anybody else uttered that sentence, you would’ve run for the hills, but you understand what she means, what emotions she’s referring to as she admits the reason for her earlier texts and teasing. “I wasn’t too rough? You’ve been on your feet for the last ten hours.”

“I’m okay.” You hum, your eyes closing. You can tell by her mood that she’s in no rush to get to her turn, and you’re thankful, because you’re not sure you have the strength to get very far with her body, even if she’s more than worked up for you. “Definitely not as young as I used to be though.”

“Your Mom says that’s been your favorite excuse since you were eleven.” Casey deadpans and you giggle, leaning up to kiss her lips, your eyebrows crinkling when your taste transfers to your tongue. “That’s gross.” You tell her, and Casey rolls her eyes, corralling you deeper into her chest until you’re suffocated by her hug.

”Shut up.” She tells you, and you comply happily. “I think there are still a pair of sweatpants in the filing cabinet.” She rubs your back, digging the heel of her hand into a knot above your hip. You sigh in relief, even if there’s a slightly pained clip to it.

“I can’t move to get them.” You tell her honestly, cuddling into her even more, slightly perturbed by the fabric of her slacks beneath your naked thighs. “But you can. Go get them.” You demand and Casey laughs, sliding you off of her lap with one last kiss to your head before she’s up and moving toward the filing cabinet against the back wall. “Love you.” You tell her simply when her back is still turned, her knees bent as she pulls open the bottom drawer.

Casey looks back over her shoulder, the world seeming to pause around her. “I love you too.”

[moyathermopolis]

what’s the rush? 18+

inspired by mutt by leon thomas

casey novak x reader

pairing - casey novak x female reader warnings - smut, bottom casey, top reader, pet names, voyeurism, mutual masturbation, major loser dyke/mean femme vibes actually, 18+ word count - 900+

you ran your fingers down your wet lips, parting them for only her to see, "mmm puppy, i bet those pouty lips would feel so good right here." your middle finger circled your throbbing clit as you lightly moaned.

"then let me." she moved sharply, running directly into your pedicured foot on her chest, roughly pushing her back down.

you couldn’t help but giggle at how flustered she was, "not yet puppy, just a little longer." you loved teasing her like this, making her horny and desperate for you, drooling and whimpering like an adorable cute puppy.

you and you're lover, casey, we're stuck in a trance, your eyes glued to one another. you were facing each other on the couch, your thighs spread wide apart as you played with your drenched pussy. this was your favorite game to play, forcing her to watch you pleasure yourself. her full lips were trapped in between her teeth and her eyes darted between your face and your core, trying to control herself so you would reward her with the taste of you.

“please princess, i just wanna make you feel good.”

“this does make me feel good puppy.”

“let me taste you, please…”

“awww casey… you look so fucking pretty when you’re desperate like this.”

you smirked at her, reveling in the way she squirmed in place, fidgeting with her fingers. this casey was immensely different from the high-powered district attorney who took on new yorks most depraved individuals. this casey would fall at your feet and kiss the ground you walked on if it made you happy. which is why you were hopelessly and pathetically in love with her.

your eyes fluttered closed as you slipped a finger inside your pussy and threw your head back against the armrest of the couch. your heated slick core was throbbing with need but you wanted to draw out her torment a bit more, even if it meant you were to be tormented too.

“f-fuck! i want you so bad,” you opened your hooded eyes to meet her green ones, “do you want me puppy?”

“yes! you know i do!” she inched closer to you and you let her. she was hypnotized by your swollen lips and knew she couldn’t wait any longer, but any sudden movements without your approval would result in punishment.

your seductive eyes beckoned her closer and you lifted your tube top up so she could see your hardened nipples, “i want you to beg me.” you smiled hearing her whimper in excitement, if felt so damn good to be desired like this.

casey dropped to her knees in front of you resting her head on your inner thigh. you gently tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear, admiring her warm flushed cheeks.

“please let me taste you, please princess i need you on my tongue right now.”

you used both hands to spread your pussy lips apart, showing off your slick center, “is that the best you can do for me?”

casey gazed deeply into your eyes, the want was evident in them, but you had her trained. she wouldn’t move until you gave her explicit permission. “i want you so bad it hurts baby, please! i just want to savor you, feel you cum down my throat… please, will you let me?”

“mmm yes puppy, you can touch me now.”

she leapt forward attaching her lips to your pussy, sucking your clit into her mouth. her tongue moved rhythmically over your core eliciting soft whimpers from your throat. your fingers tangled into her hair pulling it back into a ponytail so you could admire her features. she ravished you like you were her last meal, knowing exactly what you liked.

“yessss, feels so fucking good case…” your praises urged her on and she slipped two fingers inside of you. your hips bucked, making her fingers go deeper. “s-shit, ah!”

she moaned as she feasted on your wet pussy, getting excited from the loud squelching sounds your dripping core made. you rolled your hips to meet her thrust, gasping when you felt her curl her fingers into your g-spot. you pulled her fingers out of you and sucked them into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them.

she whimpered in need while her other hand snaked up your chest to pinch your pebbled nipples, “you’re so sexy princess, i love you so much.”

you released her fingers with a pop and kissed them, “i love you more puppy, you take such good care of me.”

casey smiled and gently leaned up to plant a soft peck on your lips. she returned her attention back to your aching pussy and you leaned back, scooting your hips closer to the edge of the couch. her tongue found its way inside of you, darting in and out making you moan wildly as you pinched your own nipples.

your thighs spread further apart instinctively, “that’s it baby, right there, mmm.”

her fingers replaced her tongue, sucking your clit and finger fucking you at the same time. you moaned as your hips rolled over and over and your breath caught in your throat. she knew you were close by the way you tightened on her fingers.

“please cum down my throat princess, i wanna taste all of you.”

you nodded your head repeatedly and let go, releasing the building pent up pleasure she was giving you. you screamed, holding her face into your pussy, even though she wouldn’t dare pull away from you. “yessssss, oh fuck casey, so good, so fucking good!” your eyes squeezed shut tightly as you babbled and you rode out your high on her tongue.

after your aftershocks subsided, she left soft kisses on your inner thigh and trailed them up to your lips. you smiled into the kiss, feeling just how much she loved you. you pulled away from her, rubbing her swollen bottom lip.

“can i taste you now, puppy?”

[victoriously-wicked]

While I’m on the topic of Barba, i forgot to mention 19x11 when I watched it the other day.

The way he went after the whole fucking airline company was SENDING ME because it was giving Casey "let's sue the full-on US military for using a dangerous drug on the soldiers" Novak and Alexandra “I don’t care about the hit they put on me, I’m gonna prosecute the cartel anyway” Cabot.

Fucking iconic, all three of them.

[cabotinheels]

— FORGIVE ME, FATHER — c.novak x g!p priestess

PREMISE: You took a vow of purity. A sacred life, untouched, unsullied — until Casey Novak walked into your church at midnight and made the altar her bed. She taunts your restraint with every look, every touch, and when you break, you break hard — bent over scripture, moaning her name, tasting sin like it’s salvation.

WARNINGS: explicit sexual content · altar sex · religious guilt · sacrilege kink · priestess!g!p · oral sex · creampie · size kink · power imbalance · rough + emotional intimacy · semi-public setting (church) · light restraint themes · dirty talk · Casey being very smug · reader being very conflicted.

WORD COUNT: 2.6K

It’s nearly midnight when you hear the heavy wooden door of the church creak open. The sound echoes through the stone hall like a whispered dare. You're standing alone at the altar, candlelight casting long, flickering shadows on the floor. The air smells like incense and wax — holy, ancient. You shouldn’t be here this late, and neither should she.

But it’s Casey.

Her heels click softly against the worn floor as she walks toward you, trench coat wrapped around her body, eyes glinting like she knows something you won’t admit out loud. She’s always like this — bold where you’re meant to be restrained, sharp where you’re taught to be soft. And lately, she’s been making it very hard to stay untouched.

You’re meant to be pure. Unclaimed. Your role, your vow, your entire life has been about denying yourself. No lovers. No release. Not even your own hand. And gods, do you try. Every night you lie in your narrow bed, staring up at the ceiling, sheets kicked off from the heat in your skin, your cock aching — swollen, heavy, rock hard — and still, you don’t give in. You clench your fists, whisper prayers into the dark, grind your hips into the mattress just enough to feel, but not enough to come. It’s torture. And it’s all because of her.

“Didn’t expect anyone to be here this late,” Casey says, her voice echoing slightly in the high ceilings. Her eyes slide over you like a caress — slow, deliberate, and far too knowing.

“I could say the same for you,” you manage, keeping your hands folded in front of you, hiding the way they’re twitching to move — to touch. She always makes you feel too much.

She tilts her head. “Couldn’t sleep. Thought maybe a little... spiritual company would help.” There’s a tease in her voice, a curl of something darker underneath. She steps closer, far too close for comfort, the scent of her perfume curling around you like a sin.

You try to retreat, but she keeps pace, casual, calm. Like a lion stalking something it knows it’s already caught. Her fingers brush your arm — an innocent touch, on the surface — but your skin burns under it. You bite the inside of your cheek, hard.

“I’ve always liked it here at night,” she muses, pretending to admire the stained glass behind you. “Quiet. Private. No one watching.”

You swallow. She knows.

She glances back at you, one eyebrow raised like she’s daring you to pretend you don’t want her. “You look tense,” she says, stepping even closer. Her hand drags down your forearm now, slow, possessive. “You should let someone help with that.”

Your breath catches. You try to focus on the altar behind her, on the candles, the icons — anything but the warmth of her body just inches away. She’s pressed to you now, her hip grazing yours, her fingers lingering on your wrist. You can feel her. The heat of her. The curve of her breasts beneath that button-down blouse she only pretends not to leave undone. The press of her thighs when she shifts her weight.

“Casey,” you rasp, voice strained. “You shouldn’t be here.”

She leans in, lips ghosting near your ear. “And yet… you haven’t stopped me.”

You can’t breathe. Your cock is already stiffening — traitorous, eager, straining beneath your robes. You silently beg your body to behave, but she’s right there, warm and wicked and real, and you’ve denied yourself so long. You’re so tired of pretending you don’t fantasize about her — her mouth wrapped around your cock, her thighs trembling under your touch, her voice cracking as she moans your name like a prayer.

“Tell me to stop,” she whispers, and her hand — her fucking hand — glides down your stomach, stopping just short of touching you where you’re hardest. “Tell me you don’t want this.”

You can’t. Your vow was never meant to withstand her. And she knows it.

Your restraint shatters with a groan, your hands grabbing her waist and pulling her into you like gravity itself gave up trying to keep you apart. Your mouth crashes against hers — hot, rough, frantic — and she responds with a low, pleased noise, like this is what she’s been waiting for all along. Her hands tangle in your hair, and you kiss her like you’ve been starving for years. In a way, you have.

“It’s wrong,” you murmur against her lips, but you don’t let go. You can’t. You’re already sliding your hand up the back of her neck, fingers gripping like you’re afraid she’ll vanish.

Casey laughs into your mouth, breathless and wicked. “Catholic guilt? Sweetheart, you’re about ten years too late for that to scare me.”

You both strip like you’ve been lit on fire — not slow, not gentle. Your hands yank open the buttons of her blouse, baring skin you’ve only dreamed of. She tugs at your robes with trembling fingers, laughing when they catch around your hips. You pull the sash loose, and the fabric falls away, pooling at your feet.

She’s bare to the waist now, her bra shoved down around her ribs, and your mouth is on her collarbone, then lower, dragging across her chest. Her nipples are stiff, flushed, and you take one between your lips, sucking just hard enough to make her whimper.

Casey’s hands roam your body like she’s mapping it — fingers skimming your chest, stomach, then down. When she wraps her hand around your cock, you almost buckle.

You’re thick and flushed dark with need, veins pulsing beneath the skin, the head already leaking precum. Her thumb teases it, spreading it, and she hums like she’s found something sacred. You gasp when her grip tightens.

“Fuck,” she breathes. “You’ve been hiding this under holy robes? That’s almost criminal.”

You open your mouth to protest, to say something, but then she’s dropping to her knees right there in front of the altar, her hands braced on your thighs, her eyes locked onto yours with that fierce, hungry look you’ve seen in every single fantasy you’ve denied yourself.

When her lips wrap around your cock, you nearly lose it.

Her mouth is hot, wet, perfect. She takes you in slowly at first, tongue swirling, one hand stroking the base. Your hands bury themselves in her hair, and you hiss through your teeth, head falling back. The way she moans around you — like she’s the one getting off — drives you insane.

She takes you deeper, inch by inch, until her nose brushes your skin and her throat flexes around you. Your knees tremble. Her hands grip your hips hard enough to bruise. You’ve imagined this moment a hundred times, but nothing compares to the reality of Casey Novak on her knees for you, worshipping you with her mouth like you’re the one she came here to pray to.

You feel the pressure coil low and tight, heat building, pleasure riding the edge of unbearable. You groan her name — a warning — but she pulls back, eyes wicked, lips slick with spit.

“No,” she pants. “Not like that. I want you to come inside me.”

She stands, pulling you with her, and as she peels off the rest of her clothes — her panties clinging, damp and ruined between her thighs — you see just how soaked she is. Her folds glisten in the candlelight, slick and inviting. She guides your hand down, and when your fingers slide against her, you both gasp.

“Feel that?” she whispers, voice rough. “That’s what you do to me.”

You grip her hips with trembling hands, guiding her back until her body presses against the edge of the altar. The stone is cool beneath her stomach, but her skin is burning. Her breath hitches as she braces herself, palms flat against the worn surface, back arching beautifully beneath your hands.

“Here?” she says, breathless. There’s a hint of disbelief in her voice, but her hips are already tilting back toward you. “You’re gonna fuck me on the altar?”

You press your body to hers, cock sliding between her thighs, not quite inside her yet. You reach up and brush her hair away from her neck before leaning in, lips grazing her ear.

“God forgive me,” you whisper. “Because I can’t stop.”

She groans at that — a needy, desperate sound — and then she’s reaching back, guiding you into her, her slick folds parting easily around the head of your cock. You both freeze for a second when you push in — just the tip, barely breaching her — because it’s so much, and you’ve waited so long.

She’s soaked. Heat pulses off her in waves, and she’s dripping, her arousal clinging to you, making it easier to slide in deeper. Inch by inch, you sink into her, gripping her hips tighter, until you’re fully seated, buried to the hilt inside her tight, wet heat. She gasps, knuckles white against the altar, and you groan like the air’s been knocked out of you.

She clenches around you, her body already trembling. “Fucking hell,” she breathes. “You feel... Jesus, you feel so good.”

You pull out slowly, almost all the way, then slam back in, hard. Her body jerks forward with the force of it, and her moan echoes off the stone walls. There’s nothing slow now. The restraint you’ve held for so long is gone, shattered like stained glass. You fuck her with everything you’ve got — hips slamming against hers, your cock sliding in and out of her soaked cunt with slick, obscene sounds.

The altar shakes beneath her. Candles flicker. Your fingers dig into her waist, then her back, then her shoulders — needing to hold her, ground yourself, own this moment.

Her cries grow higher, breathier. “Don’t stop,” she begs, voice breaking. “Fuck, don’t stop—please, please, I’m so close—”

You reach around, fingers sliding between her thighs. She’s soaked, her clit swollen and sensitive, and when you rub tight circles against it, she nearly screams.

“Come for me,” you rasp, mouth against her spine. “Let me feel it.”

She shatters around you with a loud, desperate cry — back arching, pussy clenching tight around your cock as she comes hard, shaking under you. The way she grips you, how wet and hot she is, how beautiful she sounds breaking apart in your hands — it rips the last of your control away.

You slam into her a few more times before you feel it crest — pleasure crashing through you like a tidal wave. With a guttural groan, you bury yourself deep, your hips stuttering as you spill inside her, pulse after pulse, filling her with everything you’ve held back for so long. She gasps when she feels it — warm, thick, sinful — and pushes her hips back to take every drop.

For a long moment, neither of you moves. You’re both breathing hard, skin slick with sweat, bodies trembling. Your hands stay on her waist as your forehead drops to the center of her back.

Casey finally breaks the silence, voice hoarse but smug. “Think the big guy’s gonna smite us for that?”

You laugh, dazed and wrecked. “If he is... it was worth it.”

You stay buried in her for a few more heartbeats, the warmth of her body wrapped tight around your softening cock, her breath still coming in shallow gasps. Her head’s bowed, hair clinging to her neck with sweat, but she’s smiling — that soft, wrecked kind of smile that says she’s somewhere between bliss and disbelief.

You lean in, kiss her shoulder, her neck, murmur her name. She hums in response, lazy and sated — but you’re not done. Not even close.

You slip out of her slowly, and she winces just a little at the loss. A thick, creamy mix of your cum and her arousal slides down her inner thigh, and your mouth waters at the sight.

“Lie back,” you say, voice rough, barely holding together. She turns her head to glance back at you, eyebrows lifting in mild surprise.

“Already?” she teases, but there’s no real protest in her voice.

“Not like that,” you murmur, already gripping her waist. “I want to taste you.”

Her eyes widen slightly, the corner of her mouth twitching up in a grin — and then you’re lifting her easily, strength surprising even her. She laughs breathlessly as you set her down on the altar, body loose, legs dangling off the edge. But you don’t let her relax for long. You step between her thighs, spread them open with your hands, and look at her.

She’s soaked. Puffy, flushed, glistening with slick and your cum. Her folds twitch slightly under your gaze, like her body’s still craving more — already aching for your tongue.

“Holy fuck,” she whispers, watching you. “You’re really gonna eat me out on an altar?”

You don’t answer. You just lean in, kissing her again, slow and deep and almost too tender for what you’re about to do. Her hands come up to cradle your face, pulling you closer, melting into the kiss. Then your mouth trails lower — jaw, throat, the rise of her chest.

You kiss your way down slowly, deliberately — over her collarbone, the curve of her breast, the valley between them. You take your time, sucking a nipple into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the sensitive peak until she gasps and arches into your mouth. She threads her fingers into your hair, already needy again, already aching. And you’re just getting started.

You move lower, lips tracing her ribs, her stomach. She’s trembling now, her thighs already shifting open wider as you settle between them. You hook them over your shoulders, locking her in place, and then you press your mouth to her soaked cunt like it’s the only thing on earth worth worshipping.

She cries out, hips jerking against your face, one hand flying back to grip the edge of the altar. You moan into her, tongue sliding between her folds, tasting everything. She’s warm and slick and intoxicating, your cum still thick inside her, and you lap at her like a man possessed.

You suck her clit gently, then harder, circling it with your tongue. Her moans grow higher, breathier. She’s twitching under your mouth, thighs trying to close around your head, but you hold her open, keep devouring her.

“Jesus, your mouth—” she gasps. “Fucking hell, don’t stop, please, please—”

You groan into her, and she feels it — the vibration of your mouth against her clit makes her cry out again. You fuck her with your tongue, then tease her with slow, open-mouthed kisses, pulling back just long enough to glance up at her.

She’s flushed, trembling, her lips parted, eyes dazed and hungry as they meet yours.

“Look at you,” you murmur, voice thick. “Falling apart for me.”

Then you dive back in.

You work her open with your tongue, then suck her clit again, harder this time. One of her hands clutches at your hair, the other at the altar, her whole body tensing. She’s so close — you can feel it in how she moves, how she grinds into your face now, chasing the high, moaning shamelessly.

When she comes, it’s loud and desperate — back arching, thighs clamping tight around your head, her whole body shuddering as your name spills from her lips like a prayer she never meant to say.

You stay with her through it, licking her gently, easing her down until she’s shaking with aftershocks, panting and completely wrecked.

Only when she’s finally still do you rise again, wiping your mouth, kissing her thigh.

She looks at you with half-lidded eyes, lips red and kiss-bruised, chest still heaving.

“If I knew church was gonna be like this,” she whispers hoarsely, “I’d have started coming years ago.”

You smile, dragging your thumb along the inside of her thigh.

“Don’t worry,” you murmur. “We’re just getting started.”

[cabotcore]

she takes our daughter to the daddy-daughter dance and gets called the coolest dad ever🙂‍↕️😎

[spicyschemmenti]

LEGAL MISHAPS ➫ casey novak

pairing: casey novak x bumbling idiot!fem!reader

synopsis: you spend the entire day being a walking disaster, and it's a good thing casey is there for your moral support

warnings: casey suffering from second hand embarassment, reader has implied existential crisis over moving, reader is basically a klutz which casey somehow finds herself growing fond of, pre-relationship/mutual pining??

word count: 1.6k

author's note: lmk if any wants to be tagged whenever i update this (mini series??)

MASTERLIST

The morning had barely started, and you were already having a disaster of a day. You were running late again. Your suit jacket was buttoned wrong, your hair was doing its best impression of "controlled chaos," and worst of all, you had managed to spill half your overpriced coffee all over the stack of files you needed for court.

You stared at the soggy, caffeine-drenched papers in your hands, horrified, as the ink from your notes bled together like some kind of tragic abstract art piece.

"Oh no, no, no—this is bad, this is so bad—" You muttered under your breath, trying to fan the pages dry as you half-walked, half-jogged through the courthouse hallway. You were so focused on your panic that you didn’t notice Casey standing outside the courtroom, arms crossed, watching you with an expression that screamed, of course this is happening.

"Let me guess," Casey drawled, pushing off the wall and falling into step beside you. "You spilled coffee on your briefs again?"

You groaned dramatically. "I prefer to think of it as... making them extra seasoned.”

Casey sighed, long-suffering but amused. She held out her hand, and you reluctantly handed over the damp stack of papers, bracing for whatever level of judgment was about to hit you. But instead of teasing you mercilessly like she definitely had every right to, Casey reached into her own folder and pulled out a pristine, perfectly organized set of your case files.

You blinked. "Wait. Are those..?"

"Copies of your documents? Yeah." Casey smirked as she shoved them into your hands. "Because I knew you'd do something like this. Again."

You gaped at her. "You preemptively fixed my mess? Casey, that’s—"

"Proof that you're a walking disaster?" She grinned. "Yeah, I know."

Your face heated, and you tried to play it cool, but let’s be real, you were failing miserably. "You, uh… you do this a lot, don’t you?"

Casey didn’t even try to deny it. Instead, she reached up and—without hesitation—fixed the buttons of your jacket, smoothing the fabric as she went. "Yeah," she murmured, flicking a bit of lint off your shoulder. "Because if I don’t, I have to watch you walk into court looking like you lost a fight with a filing cabinet. And frankly? That’s painful for both of us."

You swallowed hard, staring at her because who gave her the right to be this effortlessly attractive while bullying you?

"Uh. Thanks," you managed, voice slightly hoarse.

"Anytime," Casey said smoothly, adjusting her own blazer like she hadn’t just sent your brain into overdrive. Then she jerked her head toward the doors. "Now come on. Let’s go win this case before you manage to set yourself on fire or something."

You groaned but followed her in. Because, let’s be honest, she wasn’t wrong.

You were barely five minutes into the trial before you made your first catastrophic mistake.

Casey had just finished her opening argument—polished, professional, effortlessly commanding the room. Then it was your turn. You adjusted your jacket, smoothed out your (miraculously dry) papers, and stepped forward with as much confidence as you could muster.

"Thank you, Your Honor," you began, your voice strong. Then, for some godforsaken reason, your brain shut off mid-sentence and decided to improvise. "Listen, dude..."

A silence fell over the courtroom so heavy you could feel Casey’s soul leave her body beside you.

The judge, an older man with a permanent scowl, slowly removed his glasses, blinking at you like he couldn't believe what he'd just heard.

"I'm sorry," you backpedaled, heat crawling up your neck. "I meant—uh, I meant Your Honor. Not dude. I would never call you dude. That was just—uh, force of habit? My bad. I deeply respect you, sir. Your Honor. Your Honor, sir."

Casey subtly pinched the bridge of her nose. The prosecutor coughed to cover what was definitely a laugh.

The judge just sighed. "Move on, counselor."

You nodded rapidly, trying to pretend that didn’t just happen. But of course, that was only the beginning.

—

About halfway through the trial, things were going surprisingly well. You'd gotten back on track, made some solid arguments, and had only tripped over your own words twice. Casey even seemed vaguely impressed. You started feeling a little cocky.

And then the defendant—the woman on trial for murder, mind you—got up to testify.

She was… well. Objectively speaking, kind of attractive. Sharp cheekbones, piercing eyes, that whole "dangerous and knows it" vibe. Not that it mattered because she was a literal murderer, but your brain, like the absolute traitor it was, decided to acknowledge it anyway.

So of course, when you leaned over to Casey to whisper something strategic, what actually came out was:

"Damn, she's hot."

Casey whipped her head toward you so fast you almost got whiplash by association. "Excuse me?"

You froze. "What?"

"Did you just call the murder suspect—"

"No!" you whisper-hissed. "I mean—technically, yes—but not in, like, a real way—"

Casey stared at you like you were the dumbest person alive. "Shut up and focus," she muttered, clearly trying not to laugh but also visibly questioning every life choice that led to working with you.

—

By the end of the trial, though, you redeemed yourself.

You annihilated the defendant on cross-examination, tearing her story apart so thoroughly she actually got visibly pissed, which made her look so much guiltier. You had the jury eating out of the palm of your hand. Even Casey was looking at you with something dangerously close to admiration.

And then, as you stepped back toward your seat, basking in the high of your total courtroom dominance—

You tripped.

Over nothing.

Face-first, straight to the ground. Papers went flying. Someone in the gallery gasped. The prosecutor actually choked.

And Casey?

Casey covered her mouth with her hand, her shoulders shaking, her eyes twinkling as she leaned down and whispered, "Damn, that was hot."

You groaned into the floor. "I hate you."

She just grinned, reaching down to offer you a hand. "Come on, dude," she teased. "Get up before the judge holds you in contempt of gravity."

Back in your office, you barely had time to close the door behind you before you started your inevitable downward spiral of animated regret.

"Oh my god, Casey," you groaned, running a hand through your hair as you paced dramatically. "That was horrifying. Mortifying. My soul left my body at least twice. I called the judge dude, I made some seriously questionable commentary about a murderer, and then I wiped out in front of the entire courtroom. I am a disgrace to the legal profession. They’re gonna disbar me for sheer incompetence. I can't believe I'm your boss!"

"Breathe," Casey interrupted, leaning against your desk with a smirk. "You won the case. That’s what actually matters. Besides…" She folded her arms, eyes dancing with amusement. "It was entertaining."

You gasped, clutching your chest in fake betrayal. "Entertaining?!"

"Very," she confirmed, grinning.

You groaned again, flopping into your chair like the weight of your own chaos had physically defeated you. "I seriously don’t know how you still have any patience left for me."

Casey tilted her head, pretending to think about it. "Good question," she mused. "I guess you just keep me on my toes. Gotta admit, work would be way less interesting without you around to self-destruct every five minutes."

You shot her a half-hearted glare, but it didn’t last long. Especially when she shifted gears entirely and casually asked, "So, you got any plans this weekend?"

You blinked. "Huh?"

"Weekend," she repeated, giving you a pointed look. "Two days where you ideally don’t embarrass yourself in a courtroom?"

"Oh! Uh—yeah, kinda," you admitted, leaning back in your chair. "Since this DA job is new, I just moved closer to the office, and now my apartment’s basically a mountain of unopened boxes. So, my entire weekend plan consists of unpacking and maybe finally figuring out where the hell I put my coffee maker."

Casey raised an eyebrow. "That sounds like a nightmare."

You flashed her a lopsided grin. "Eh. What can go wrong?"

And then, as if the universe itself had a personal vendetta against you, you somehow managed to poke yourself in the eye while gesturing.

"OH, COME ON!" you yelped, immediately clutching your face as Casey burst into full-blown laughter.

"Unbelievable," she said, shaking her head, though she was clearly enjoying herself far too much. "You are a danger to yourself. How have you survived this long?"

"Honestly?" You winced, blinking rapidly. "Pure luck and stubbornness."

Casey sighed, but there was something way too fond in the way she was looking at you. Then, completely effortlessly, she announced, "Alright. I’ll swing by on Saturday and help you unpack."

You froze. "Wait, what?"

"Saturday," she repeated, like this was just some normal, casual thing and not a mind-blowing turn of events. "I’m coming over. Because if I don’t, you’re probably going to end up trapped under a pile of boxes, and I refuse to be the one to explain that to the paramedics."

You opened your mouth, then closed it again. "You’re willingly offering to spend your day off helping me move in?"

"Yeah." She shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal. "And because, let’s be honest! you’ll probably make an even bigger mess if left unsupervised."

You stared at her, trying to process. Trying not to overthink the fact that she wanted to spend her weekend with you. That she was offering, just like that.

"…Casey Novak," you said finally, voice full of exaggerated emotion. "Are we about to become best friends?"

She rolled her eyes, fighting back a smile. "Don’t push it."

You grinned, heart doing something suspiciously warm in your chest.

This weekend was going to be interesting.

[khvlani]

okay, dorkheads ! time to come home now :’) (seriously. PLEASE. I BEG. COME HOME. I MISS YOU.)