#pervvadi

thank you anon for giving me the opportunity to perv out <3

cw: heavy fauxcest. don’t like don’t read!

victoria is reaaally sneaky about it. mother's day comes around and she asks cassie to pose with harrison, all come on, just one, please and cassie rolls her eyes but does it anyway, arm around her son, smiling brightly at the camera. victoria takes the picture, perfect, perfect, so cute! and then never posts it. instead she posts a photo taken from the passenger seat of cassie's lame mom car, cassie's hand gripping victoria's bare thigh, high up enough that you can see the edge of her underwear. happy mother's day to the woman who taught me everything <3

cassie sees it way too late, panicking about the picture somehow reaching victoria's actual mom. so she starts blowing up vic's phone: are you fucking insane? delete that now. victoria i’m not kidding, delete the picture. what are you playing at? please, vic, you can’t post stuff like that. baby, cmon. she’s sooo desperate it’s pathetic :(

victoria doesn't answer right away. she lets cassie call her, lets the phone vibrate against the table while shamsi watches her from across the room. do you need to take that?, she asks. victoria shrugs. just spam calls, mom.

later that night, victoria sends cassie a picture of herself on her knees, face cut off, just her pouty lip showing. she's in white cotton underwear, hands folded in her lap all sweet and patient. am i in trouble, mommy?

victoria likes to call cassie a perv, a creep, disgusting, when she catches her staring at work. she bends over on purpose in front of her, arching her lower back. pulls down the top of her scrubs on hot days, exposing her collarbones covered with bruises—purple fingerprints, the crescent marks of teeth, a map of where cassie's mouth has been.

she lingers too long when cassie is charting, pushing out her chest against cassie's back, whispering useless details about the case under the excuse that she's just helping. you’re kind of slow with technology, you know that, cass. might be an age thing, voice all faux-sweet and condescending.

sometimes she likes a crowd. they're at the nurses' station, cassie deep in conversation with trinity and princess, when victoria walks up and asks for help with a suture kit. can you show me again, mom? she slaps a hand over her mouth, eyes wide, all fake embarrassment. shit, sorry—mckay. i meant mckay. she sells it real good, stumbling over the words, cheeks flushing. cassie's shoulders go rigid, knuckles white against the pen she's holding. trinity and princess exchange a pointed look, and she knows the whole ED will hear about her little slip before the end of the day.

you're so fucking pervy, i should report you to HR. what do you think they'd do if they found out, huh? you could be my mom and you behave like this. what if i told them how you like to take advantage of me? cassie's eyes dart towards the hall, their coworkers merely a few feet away, but she doesn't say a word. she takes a deep breath, turns around and walks away.

victoria watches her go, already thinking about the nearest empty room. how cassie will drag her inside, push her to her knees, and press her thighs around victoria’s head just to shut her up. you’re a sick little girl, vic. such a needy thing, can't keep your mouth shut, hmm? want everyone to know you let your mom use you like this. m' gonna fuck your face so good. after, victoria will walk out first, face flushed and shining, pussydrunk, while cassie stays inside fixing her scrubs, ashamed of falling for it again <3

you're literally robbing the cradle, victoria says once, sprawled across cassie's couch, kicking her feet up onto cassie's lap. like, statistically, you should be in jail.

cassie grabs her ankles and doesn’t take her eyes away from the tv. you're twenty-one, you’re an adult.

barely. victoria shrugs, the smile in her voice obvious. she taps her finger against her chin, pretending to think. what are you now? forty-five?

forty-three. cassie's voice is flat, detached, like she's already bored of the conversation. victoria's stomach flips; being dismissed only spurs her on.

mhm, same thing. she digs the heel of her foot against cassie's thigh, delighted by the hiss that follows. but cassie still won't take her eyes off the tv, and that won't do. you're bad at this whole mom thing, you know that? i thought you were supposed to spoil me, to take care of me.

cassie's eyes finally snap from the tv, and oh, that hit a nerve. her baby blue eyes are dark, cheeks flushed, veins popping in her neck. victoria loves the way she looks when she's mad, loves the way cassie fucks her harder after, like she's trying to prove something, like she's trying to put her in her place.

their little…games always start like this. victoria winding her up, pressing every button she knows, poking and prodding until cassie gives in. victoria is more than happy to do the chasing. she provokes, she pushes, she never waits for permission.

so she turns around and bends over the armrest of the couch, presenting herself. she looks back at cassie over her shoulder, hair falling across her face, eyes half-lidded and mean, a pout on her glossy lips. she wiggles her ass in the air, her pleated skirt riding up.

come on, mom, she says, voice syrup-sweet and cruel. you know you want to, you can't keep your hands off me. that's sick, you know that? like, actually sick. you should be ashamed of yourself.

cassie moves behind her, slow. her hands land on victoria's hips, fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises.

there she is. victoria pushes back against her, grinding her ass against cassie's crotch. you love it when i talk like this, don't you? when i remind you how wrong this is, how young i am, how you could be my mother.

cassie yanks victoria's skirt up, bunches it around her waist. her underwear is already soaked through, a dark patch spreading across the lilac cotton. cassie hooks her fingers into the waistband and pulls them down just past her thighs, exposing her completely.

say it, victoria presses, already breathless as pushes her hips back, desperate for contact, rubbing herself on cassie’s belt buckle. say you're a freak who fucks her daughter. say it, mommy. i want to hear you.

cassie doesn't say it. she runs her fingers through victoria’s slick, gathers it, and shoves two fingers inside her in one rough motion. no warning, none of the gentleness she showed her during their first times together.

it hurts, a sweet, welcome burn, and victoria's next taunt dies in her throat. she jerks her hips forward, then back, grinding against cassie's palm. cassie wraps her free arm around victoria's waist and holds her still, forcing her to take it at her pace.

oh my god, victoria sobs, fingers clawing at the armrest. oh my god, mom—mommy, her forehead drops to the cushions, mouth falling open. a string of spit connects her lips to the fabric.

fuck, she manages, hips pushing back against cassie’s tight grip. fucking—yeah, show me what a sick fuck you are. you like being inside your daughter?

cassie sets a punishing pace, her palm hitting victoria’s clit with every thrust. she uses her hips to guide her movements as her fingers piston in and out, curled just right to make her brain go fuzzy, fucked stupid. her free hand comes up to victoria's neck, pressing her face down into the couch, grinding her cheek into the drool-soaked fabric.

victoria’s eyes are half-closed, tears gathering at the corners, words slurring into nonsense. old enough to be my—fuck—my mother and you're—ah, ah, ah—

cassie doesn’t let her finish, delivers a hard slap against her ass and victoria's whole body jerks.

you like that? cassie asks, voice low and rough. you like being treated like this?

yesyesyes, fuck, mom—

call me that again, baby.

mom, victoria whines, barely coherent. mommy, please, need you, only—only you. need my mom.

cassie adds a third finger, stretching her open. victoria sobs into the cushion, pressing her face into it for comfort, her whole body shaking. she is so wet it's obscene, soaking cassie’s fingers, dripping down her wrist, making a mess of the couch.

please, victoria chokes out, not even sure what she's begging for. please, please, please.

you're so wet, cassie says, borderline mocking. this gets you off? being a fucktoy for your mom? being treated like a thing?

victoria's eyes roll back, drool pooling beneath her cheek, tongue lolling out. she's lost the ability to form real words, just broken sounds, whimpers, the occasional high-pitched keen.

you always talk so much, cassie says, definitely mocking, pumping her fingers in and out. go on, talk back. all that mouth and look at you now, can't even think.

victoria wants to say something, wants to take the upper hand, wants to bite back, but cassie hits that spot inside her and her brain short-circuits. her jaw goes slack, hiccuped moans spilling out in tandem with cassie's thrusts.

that's what i thought, cassie’s voice meaner that victoria’s ever heard her. you throw a fit cause you want your mom to fuck it out of you, don’t you?

cassie drapes herself over victoria's back, pinning her down until she can barely breathe between the weight and the couch pressing against her face. she snaps her hips forward, the rough texture of her jeans slapping against naked skin. cassie grunts against her neck, teeth grazing the back of it before biting down, catching her prey. victoria wails, tears spilling freely, and she’s so so close; hips rutting uselessly against cassie's fingers, every failed grind making her cry harder.

you're so young, cassie whispers to herself, so soft the sound of her thrusting almost drowns it out. so fucking young and you act like you're in charge.

i am— victoria swallows spit, tries again, voice hoarse. i am in charge.

cassie laughs. like actually laughs, and victoria would be offended if cassie wasn't currently knuckle-deep inside her, thumb circling her clit, turning her thoughts into a stream of cassiecassiecassie.

oh, you are? cassie's voice drops, amused. you don't sound like you're in charge. she angles her wrist and slams into her, the wet noise of it filling the room, mixing with victoria's pitiful whines and mindless babbles. i know you can hear that, baby. your pretty cunt knows mom's in charge, doesn't it?

cassie traps her clit between thumb and forefinger and pinches, tight and mean, smiling as victoria's face crumples. she comes with a strangled scream, back arching so hard she buckles cassie's weight forward. her vision whites out and she's pretty sure she stops existing for a few seconds, cunt clenching around cassie's fingers, gushing, pulsing, trying to push her out.

that's it, cassie coos, fucking her through it, not stopping, not slowing. you’re such a sick girl, aren’t you, honey? coming all over your mom’s hand. the perfect daughter, made for me to fuck.

victoria is half-delirious, babbling nonsense into the cushion. her hips jerk helplessly, chasing cassie's hand even though she can't take any more. tears streak down her face, mixing with the drool.

cassie doesn't stop until victoria goes limp beneath her, boneless and trembling, soft whimpers escaping with every exhale. only then does cassie pull her fingers out, victoria's cunt clutching at her like it doesn't want her to leave. she hastily wipes her hand on the back of victoria's thigh and steps back.

this is what it takes to shut you up?

victoria hums and nods against the cushions. slumped over the armrest, drool and tears and sweat all over her cheeks, thighs soaked with slick. but still, a satisfied smile spreads across her ruined face.

cassie kneels beside her, brushes the hair from her face. i'll run you a bath.

victoria's smile twitches. hmm. i want to eat you out.

cassie tsks, shaking her head. manners, victoria, that's not how you ask for things.

pretty please? it comes out slurred, still wrecked.

cassie narrows her eyes, and victoria suddenly feels bashful, knowing what she's waiting for. please—please, mom.

better, cassie leans down, brings her lips to victoria's ear. i raised my girl right.