Casey Texting Twice Makes Sense

amelia is obviously so sassy and alex turned her on in every way possible

Amelia’s face ahsbxbshshshhhah

<3

I saw this post and thought of Alex

@olderwomenenthusiast *cough* *cough*

There's an idea that's been forming in my head for months and I want to put that idea in your minds too :)

In season five we are told that Casey rides a bike to work. Then she is seen using a car and while I admit what no one should look so criminally sexy driving a car, I firmly believe that Casey Novak is a 2-wheeled girl. And that's what my idea goes to (it's like a personal HC) I think that during her suspension, after getting through her initial depression or frustration, she took the time to indulge some whims and learn new things and one of those whims was to buy a Harley Davidson motorcycle. So yes folks, I want you to picture Casey Novak, riding a motorcycle off into the sunset in leather gear.

Plus Calex. I think the first time Alex saw her arrive at work on a motorcycle was when they were sharing duties during season 13 and she had to hide in her office to hide how flushed she was because she was having less-than-appropriate thoughts about her co-worker.

<<Hope the essence of my idea is understood, as my native language is not English and I had to use a translator.>>

olivia is better than me I would've been on my knees for alex cabot every time she comes back to my life

pouty season 13 olivia

Spot the difference

BOOMSHAKALAKA YES LAWD🙂‍↕️

lesson in control (alex cabot)

PAIRING: alex cabot & fem reader DESCRIPTION: alex is in complete control over your body CAUTION: no plot, just smut. overstimulation, power dynamics, edging, ice play, slapping WORD COUNT: 2.2k AUTHOR'S NOTE: i need alex to fuck me, oh & this is not proof read cause i'm lazy x

MASTERLIST

The air in Alex's bedroom is thick - humid, electric, laced with the scent of sweat and sex. The room is dimly lit, the warm glow of the city filtering in through the windows, casting long shadows across the bed where you're sprawled out, utterly exposed. Outside, Manhattan hums with distant life - cars honking, the occasional wail of a siren but inside? The only sounds that matter are the ragged staccato of your breath, the wet, obscene noises between your legs, and her voice - low, measured, commanding.

Alex remains fully clothed, poised between your trembling thighs, watching you with a sharp, predatory glint in her blue eyes. Her silk blouse remains crisp, barely wrinkled despite how long she’s been toying with you, and her fitted skirt hugs her curves as if she had no intention of ever being anything less than composed. She is the picture of control, untouched and untouched by but you? You are wrecked. Your body is fevered, your skin flushed, thighs twitching with every calculated brush of her fingertips. Every muscle in your body is coiled so tightly, burning with need, but she refuses to let you find release.

She drags a single manicured nail down the center of your stomach, feather-light, barely a touch at all, but it sends a violent shiver through you. Your back arches instinctively, your body chasing after her, desperate for more, but before you can make contact, her free hand presses down on your lower abdomen, pinning you to the bed with infuriating ease.

"Look at you," Alex muses, her voice smooth, almost amused, as she traces lazy circles just above your navel. "You're shaking. Poor thing." She clicks her tongue, shifting slightly, pressing the barest hint of her thigh against your swollen, aching clit. The friction is barely anything, just enough to tease, and yet, it sends a broken whimper tumbling past your lips. "You need me so badly, don’t you?"

The need is unbearable, insatiable. You nod frantically, your hands twitching where they’ve been fisted into the sheets for what feels like hours now, your nails biting into the fabric. "Yes," you gasp, voice wrecked, completely devoid of the dignity you might’ve had at the beginning of the night. "Please, Alex --"

The sharp, stinging slap to your clit comes without warning, sending a searing jolt through your entire body. You scream, your hips jerking violently off the bed, but she catches your movement easily, pressing you back down with unyielding strength.

"That’s not how you ask," Alex says, her voice as steady as ever, but there’s a warning edge beneath it.

Tears sting your eyes, your entire body throbbing, every nerve ending alive with overstimulation. "Alex, please," you plead, voice shaking. "Please let me cum. I can't --"

Another slap, sharper this time, lands directly against your clit, and your whole body convulses from the sudden sting of pain mixed with pleasure.

"Did I say you could cum?" Alex asks, tilting her head as she watches you, her lips curling into a smirk. She reaches up, pinching one of your nipples between her fingers, rolling it just enough to make you whimper, before giving it a cruel twist. The pain sparks something new, something dangerous, and you gasp, your hips bucking up again, but she simply tuts at you, shaking her head. "So fucking desperate," she murmurs, giving your nipple another sharp pinch before releasing it, her nails raking lightly down the slope of your breast. "You think just because you're wet and begging, I should give you what you want?"

You nod frantically, but she only chuckles, leaning in close, her breath hot against your throat. "Oh, sweetheart," she murmurs, lips barely brushing against your skin. "You don't get to decide. I do."

And then, suddenly, finally, her fingers slam into you, two at once, stretching you wide with no warning, no buildup. The sheer force of it sends a strangled moan tearing from your throat, your back arching, your legs trembling as she sets a ruthless, unrelenting pace.

"Fuck, Alex --"

"That's better," she purrs, curling her fingers just right, pressing into that spot that makes your vision whiten. "God, listen to you. Listen to how fucking wet you are."

The lewd, wet sounds of her fingers pumping into you are obscene, the slick noise mixing with your breathless gasps, your body completely helpless beneath her. Her thumb brushes over your clit, just once, just enough to send a new wave of desperation surging through you.

"Please," you gasp, your hands scrambling against the sheets, your body climbing too fast, your release teetering right there. "Please, Alex, I'm—I'm gonna—"

And just when you're at the very edge, when your body is locking up, ready to break, she pulls her fingers out completely.

You scream.

"Oh, sweetheart," Alex coos mockingly, holding up her soaked fingers, watching the way your slick glistens in the dim light. "Did you really think I'd let you cum?"

Tears spill over, frustration burning hot, but she only smirks, gripping your chin with her clean hand, tilting your face up until your eyes meet hers. "You’ll cum when I let you," she reminds you, her voice quiet, lethal. "And not a second before."

She shifts, lowering herself between your legs, her breath a ghost over your throbbing clit. "One more," she decides, lips brushing against your inner thigh, her nails digging into your hips, holding you down. "Then, maybe, if you’re good, I’ll let you cum."

And then she ruins you.

Her tongue flicks over your clit, sharp, precise, before she sucks it into her mouth, the sensation sending a violent shudder through your entire body. Her fingers plunge back inside you in an instant, curling deep, pressing hard, fucking into you with purpose. The pleasure is devastating, raw, building so fast you can’t even breathe.

"Alex—!"

"Cum," she orders, her voice absolute, demanding. "Now."

The orgasm slams into you like a tidal wave, crashing through every muscle in your body. You wail, your thighs clenching around her head as you soak her fingers, the pleasure so intense it’s almost unbearable.

But she doesn’t stop.

She works you through it, dragging every aftershock from your wrecked body, her mouth still sealed over your clit, forcing another orgasm from you before the first has even ended. You sob her name, thrashing, your body utterly spent, but she holds you down, relentless, merciless—

"One more," she purrs, her tongue flicking just right.

You barely have time to take a breath before another violent, brutal orgasm wracks through you, your vision going completely white, your body collapsing against the mattress, utterly ruined.

Alex finally pulls away, licking her lips as she watches you with amusement, completely satisfied with the mess she’s made of you. She kisses her way up your body, slow, deliberate, before pressing her lips to yours, letting you taste yourself on her tongue.

Then, her fingers trace lazily down your stomach again, teasing, possessive.

"But we’re not done yet."

Your body is wrecked.

Your limbs are useless, boneless against the bed, every muscle quivering with aftershocks from the relentless pleasure Alex has wrung out of you. Your skin burns - hot, fevered, sticky with sweat, your chest rising and falling in sharp, unsteady gasps. You can feel your own wetness pooling beneath you, soaking into the sheets, a filthy testament to just how thoroughly she’s ruined you.

And yet, despite how overstimulated you are, despite the way your thighs tremble from exertion, despite the fact that you’re still struggling to catch your breath.

She’s not done with you yet.

Alex watches you with a smirk, still fully clothed, still perfectly composed, her lips slick with your arousal. Her blue eyes glint in the dim light, sharp and knowing, completely satisfied with the way you lay before her; spent, desperate, trembling, utterly at her mercy.

“You look so pretty like this,” she murmurs, trailing her fingertips along your inner thigh, dragging them through the evidence of your ruin. “So fucked-out. So pliant. But I wonder…” She tilts her head, smirking as she brings her glistening fingers up to her lips, sucking them clean with a low hum of approval. “…how much more you can take.”

Your breath stutters, your pulse pounding.

Alex reaches over to the nightstand, retrieving a crystal tumbler of whiskey she’d left untouched earlier. The glass clinks softly as she lifts it, swirling the liquid inside, but it’s not the whiskey that makes your breath hitch; it’s the single, slowly melting ice cube floating in the amber depths.

She catches your reaction immediately, her smirk widening. “Oh?” she teases, taking a slow sip of her drink, her lips wrapping around the rim of the glass, her tongue flicking out just slightly to taste the whiskey. “Does the thought of this make you nervous, sweetheart?”

You swallow thickly, your entire body too sensitive, too exposed. The heat still lingers in every inch of your skin, every nerve raw and aching from the overstimulation she’s already put you through. The idea of cold and of ice against your still-throbbing clit sends an involuntary shiver down your spine.

Alex sees it. And she relishes it.

“Oh, you are nervous.” She chuckles, setting the glass down and plucking the ice cube between her fingers. “Good.”

Your stomach tightens as she leans in, dragging the melting ice along the curve of your collarbone, leaving behind a slick, freezing trail that makes you shiver violently. Your breath catches, your oversensitive skin recoiling and craving more all at once.

“Still so warm,” she muses, her voice a low purr. “Still so flushed. I should help you cool down, shouldn’t I?”

Before you can answer, she presses the ice directly against your nipple.

You yelp, your back arching off the bed as the sudden cold burns against your already-sensitive skin. The contrast is devastating. Your body is still burning from before, still hypersensitive, and the ice is too much, a sharp, shocking sting that makes your nipple pebble instantly beneath the freezing touch.

Alex watches your reaction with dark amusement, rolling the ice in slow, lazy circles, painting your hardened peak with melting trails of cold water. “Shh,” she soothes mockingly, her free hand pressing down on your stomach to keep you still. “Be good for me, sweetheart.”

The ice trails lower, gliding across your sternum, tracing the line between your ribs, before she reaches your other breast. She hovers for a moment, letting the anticipation build, watching the way your chest heaves in uneven, desperate breaths. Then, without warning, she presses the ice to your other nipple, rubbing slow, agonizing circles over the peak.

You whimper, your entire body tightening, twisting beneath her.

“Oh, poor thing,” Alex coos, feigning sympathy. “Is it too much?” She rolls the ice between her fingers, twisting the bud until it's painfully erect, before leaning down and taking it into her mouth.

The contrast is unbearable - her warm, wet tongue circling where the ice had just been, the sharp sting of cold soothed instantly by the heat of her mouth. You sob at the sensation, your hands flying to tangle in her hair, but she grabs your wrists, pinning them down beside your head with a single sharp command:

“Don’t move.”

You go still immediately.

She rewards you with a slow, deliberate suck, her tongue flicking teasingly against your nipple before she pulls away, the ice cube still pressed between her fingers, melting faster now.

“You’re being such a good girl for me,” she murmurs, kissing her way down your stomach, her breath warm, her lips soft, while the ice continues its slow, torturous path downward.

Your entire body tenses when she reaches the juncture of your thighs.

"Relax," Alex murmurs, her voice a silk-draped command. "I promise, sweetheart… this is going to feel so good."

And then, before you can protest, she presses the ice directly against your clit.

A broken, shattered moan rips from your throat as the cold sears through you, sharp and biting against your still-throbbing, oversensitive nerves. Your hips jerk violently, your body instinctively trying to escape the sensation, but Alex pins you down with firm hands on your thighs, refusing to let you move an inch.

“Oh, fuck—”

"That's right," she hums, watching your reaction with keen interest. "Feel that? How fucking alive you are right now?"

You can barely breathe.

The ice moves in slow, teasing circles, the melting water dripping down your folds, trailing over your swollen entrance, making everything slick - too much, too cold, too intense, before Alex suddenly slaps your clit, sending a new jolt of sensation through you.

You scream.

Your entire body convulses, pleasure and pain colliding in brutal, devastating waves.

"Shh," Alex soothes, though there’s nothing soothing about her tone. "Almost there."

She finally, finally drops the last sliver of ice between your legs, lets it melt against your soaked folds, while she leans down and seals her mouth over your overstimulated clit, her warm, wet tongue laving over where the ice had just been, soothing the raw nerves before sucking you deep.

Your body shatters.

The orgasm destroys you, ripping through every cell in your body, leaving you sobbing, thrashing, shaking beneath her. Your muscles seize, your legs tremble violently, and Alex doesn't let up, not even a little, her fingers pushing inside you deep, fucking you through every aftershock until you have nothing left to give.

When she finally pulls away, you're wrecked. Completely ruined.

She smirks, wiping her mouth as she watches you struggle to catch your breath.

Then, with a satisfied hum, she leans in and presses a slow, claiming kiss to your lips.

"Now we’re done."

Fake Scenarios In My Head #37

Cozy and wrapped up in warm blankets, surrounded by the darkness of the city that never slept, Casey and Alex lay in bed, sleeping peacefully.

Suddenly, Alex woke up and sat up abruptly. It took her a second to get her bearings and understand what had woken her. Tthen another wave of nausea rolled through her body, and she felt her stomach clench. Hastily, she freed herself from the blankets and stumbled into the bathroom, just in time to reach the toilet.

Half-awake, Casey groaned as she emerged from under one of the pillows, cracking one eye open and blindly reaching out for her girlfriend. “…’Lex…?” she mumbled sleepily, trying to figure out what was going on. Then, unmistakable sounds from the bathroom cut through the haze of sleep. “’Lex… you okay?” she called into the room, even though she knew Alex probably couldn’t hear her. But before she could decide what to do, Alex was already coming back into the bedroom.

Slowly, one hand still pressed against her stomach, Alex made it to the bed and sank down onto it. Casey propped herself up on one elbow, leaning in a little closer. With her free hand, she gently rubbed Alex’s back. “You okay?” Her voice was still rough from sleep. “Don’t know.” Alex gave a weak shrug. “I just suddenly felt sick.” “Mmh.” Casey scooted a little closer, wanting to comfort her. “S´thing you ate?” Her brain wasn’t awake enough for full sentences yet. Alex just shook her head. “I don’t know what it could’ve been…” Casey rubbed her eyes, and suddenly, a thought formed in her head. Before she could think better of it, the question just tumbled out of her: “Are you pregnant?”

The words had an immediate effect. Alex turned to her, half-amused, half-bewildered . She stared at Cher girlfriend for a few seconds, speechless, studying her face. “What?” Her tone was suddenly much sharper. Casey blinked, confused. “What?” She sat up properly now, torn between worrying about Alex and the overwhelming urge to sink back into the pillows. “Pregnant, Casey?” Alex’s eyes flashed. “Are you joking right now? Because this is not the time.”

“Uh… no!” Casey ran a hand over Alex’s arm. “I’m just worried.” “Casey, do you seriously think I’m cheating on you?” Alex raised an eyebrow. Something else flickered in her gaze. Was that… hurt? It took a few seconds for Casey to even register the question. “What? No! I just… my sister… when she was pregnant… mornings…” She trailed off. Suddenly, her eyes widened as her thoughts clicked into place, and sleep was yanked right out of her system. “Oh!” She sat up straight, and as she realized what she had just implied, her face flushed red.

“Casey, calm down, please. It’s okay.” Alex took her hands, laughing quietly. After a moment, Casey joined in, though a little uncertainly, still blushing. Had she really just said that…? “Lex… I…” Alex lifted Casey’s chin with a finger, making her look into her eyes. “Sweetheart,” she said with mock seriousness, “I’m not pregnant.” They both laughed. And despite the rough start to this early morning, they suddenly felt lighter.

Casey pulled Alex into her arms, pressing a soft kiss to her hair. “What can I do? Do you feel any better?” Alex sighed, snuggling closer. “A little. My stomach’s still a bit off. I’ll just try to sleep a little more.” “That’s a good idea,” Casey murmured, already ready to burrow back into the warm blankets—until Alex stopped her. “You’re getting up and making me tea. Chamomile, please. And maybe some toast.”

Casey groaned dramatically. “But that means I have to get up…” Alex leaned back just enough to give her a sly smile. “As the father, it’s your duty to take care of the mother-to-be.” Casey narrowed her eyes, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Oh, so that’s how you wanna play this?” Alex grinned. “You better believe it.”

Sighing, Casey kissed her hair once more before finally peeling herself out of the embrace and getting out of bed. “Chamomile and toast, Mommy?” Alex, already burrowed back into the blankets, nodded with an exaggerated pout. “Yes, Daddy!” Casey stared at her for a moment, then shook her head and trudged toward the kitchen. “…Unfair…” she muttered as she left the room.