Riraku @rirasrambles - Tumblr Blog

out of ink!

who knew a broken printer would make everything bleed past the margins?

pairing. caleb x fem!reader

synopsis. when caleb's printer dies the night before a big deadline and forces him to swallow his pride and text you for help, the tension that’s been simmering between you two for over a year finally boils over.

tags. semi canon au, forensics/precinct au, enemies to lovers, workplace rivals, hate sex, rough sex, kitchen sex, couch sex, oral sex (f! receiving), fingering, p in v, dirty talk, pet names, manhandling, hair pulling, slight size kink, nerd caleb, tsundere caleb (a lil mean but still whipped), bratty reader, brat tamer caleb, porn with some plot, some fluff at the end

wordcount. 7k

notes. ok so boom my first caleb fic n my first smut fic everrrr. i was picturing nerdleb with a mullet the entire time n reader in a bra similar to tzuyus honestly and this is js pure goonslop hate sex that isn't proofread + i'm still a beginner at writing so sorry for any grammatical errors n typos... if u end up seeing this pls lmk ur thoughts

when caleb had taken up an internship at the skyhaven police department as a fourth year forensic science student, he thought he had won the lottery.

the lab was cutting edge and the cases were high profile. it was the kind of place professors talked about in reverent tones and made undergrads like him sit up straighter. even the coffee was decent, god bless their twenty-four hour cafe. he worked obscene hours as an assistant to the now retired professor lucius, lived off vending machine snacks and raw passion, and he absolutely loved every second of it.

it somehow got even better when he was promoted after graduation, the week after he had turned twenty-two, and offered a permanent position. real benefits! and a real salary! his own access badge! instead of the temporary one that malfunctioned every time he swiped too quickly! free coffee from the cafeteria! the whole goddamn package.

for the next two years, everything about caleb’s career went perfectly, including the now year and a half old promotion that took him out of a random laboratory placement and into the top priority lab, directly overseen by the chief of police.

everything had gone perfectly, that is, until you were transferred in from linkon city’s police department.

you arrived with only a year of experience under your belt and were placed directly into the same laboratory he worked in. word traveled fast, as it always did in law enforcement. and boy, did people talk. about your work ethic, your clearance rate, your attention to detail. always followed by the same line, delivered with impressed disbelief.

especially at your young age, they’d say. though caleb never quite understood that part, seeing as you were only a year younger than him. if anything, he thought, someone should be praising him for his own quick rise into the lab directly under the chief, a thirty something, fiery, sharp tongued woman named jenna who ran the place like they were going to war with rome. but of course, he didn’t expect that from anybody. caleb was never one to boast. he liked his job and that was enough.

still, caleb expected someone nerdy and bookish. a quiet overachiever. the type who graduated top of their year on the dean’s list and kept their head down, happy to double check results and make his job easier. the kind of person you wanted to be paired with for a group project. not that he didn’t love what he did, he just didn’t love complications.

and what a complication you turned out to be.

his first real interaction with you happened on a monday morning.

caleb had been elbow deep in a backlog report, headphones in, vibing to a playlist gideon had made him titled ‘Most nostalgic bangers OAT’, when someone cleared their throat directly beside him. and it wasn’t polite, no, it was done loudly. and definitely on purpose.

interrupting someone just as they entered flow state had to be criminal, in caleb’s professional, completely unbiased opinion.

he glanced up anyway, already annoyed.

you stood there with an iced coffee in hand, condensation dripping down the plastic cup, your lab coat unbuttoned. there was a faint scent to you, something sweet and warm and faintly of vanilla that absolutely did not belong in a forensics lab. your eyes flicked down to the desk, letting your eyelashes hang in a way that made his stomach flip. then, just as quickly, they flicked back up to him, and caleb suddenly felt an inexplicable heat crawling up his neck.

“is this yours?” you asked, already setting the coffee down.

right. on top. of his report.

caleb yanked his headphones off. “do you mind?”

you blinked, then simply offered a smile, and coincidentally, caleb’s heart rate quickened.

the smile wasn’t even an apologetic one. you almost looked amused. irritation flashed through caleb’s field of vision. no wonder he felt tachycardic.

“relax, lab rat. it’s sealed.”

caleb grit his teeth, watching the condensation from the cup bleed into his margins. his eyes met yours again before replying, “that’s not the point.”

you just ignored him, opting to instead lean over his desk and read the header, hair slipping over your shoulder, causing it to brush against his forearm for half a second too long. caleb felt his mouth go dry until you glanced down at his nametag and finally spoke again after a beat.

“caleb, right?”

he frowned, confused and kind of dazed. “yeah?”

“cool.” you offered him your name, and that was as far as the introduction went. “i’m taking the elysium scene.”

“what?”

“i already called it.” you finally lifted your stupid coffee in a mock salute. “jenna said it’s first come, first serve.”

caleb was sure his ears were tinged red by now from irritation as the heat continued to make its way up the back of his head.

“i was jus’ about to call it.”

you simply shrugged. “skill issue.”

then you walked away, lab coat billowing behind you effortlessly.

caleb silently seethed at your back profile like a kettle whistling on high as you slid into conversation with nero like you’d known him for years.

and that set the tone for the foreseeable future. because the two of you disagreed about absolutely everything.

you came waltzing into the lab like you owned the place. not loudly or obnoxiously, no. it was worse, almost with grace. like you were completely and devastatingly comfortable. you stole his field assignments with a casual flick of your hand and a simple, smug “you snooze, you lose.” you leaned over desks that weren’t yours. you borrowed gloves and pens and took up space without even asking, like it was all communal property and not something he had earned inch by inch. and somehow, without trying, you folded yourself into conversations he’d been orbiting for months, laughing with people like the lab had been waiting for you to show up all along.

caleb was convinced you had placed everyone else under a spell and he somehow hadn’t been caught in it. because he was seemingly the only person in the entire unit who had not been bewitched by your fake charm.

he had been grumbling to himself, three weeks after your transfer, clearing out the dry pens you’d forgotten to cap and the fifty something sticky notes you’d stuck over one of the shared monitors, when nero snuck up behind him.

“what’s got you so tight?” nero asked him, placing an arm on caleb's shoulder. caleb flinched but quickly recovered, turning his neck to mutter in response.

“she leaves her stuff everywhere. ‘n then i’m the one left to clean it up.”

nero just shrugged, passing him the coffee he’d usually grab for the both of them from the cafeteria. “i dunno man. she seems to have her own system.”

“well it’s a shit system then.”

“eh.” nero paused to take a sip of coffee and caleb mirrored him. “last i checked, she was the one who pieced together those dna and residue samples found in the no hunt zone case the other night. not you.”

caleb stopped mid sip, the taste of his coffee influenced by the bitter jab. though he knew nero probably didn’t mean it that way, it still prickled at his skin, his cheeks flushing red.

he placed the cup down. “never said she wasn’t smart. all i’m sayin’ is i’m not her goddamn janitor.”

“never said you were.” nero shot back simply. “all i’m saying is to keep an open mind. trust her process.”

eventually, nero started bringing 3 cups of coffee from the cafe.

all of that happened within the first month of your transfer. it had been a little over a year since then.

and what started off as mild annoyance, had blossomed into a venus fly trap, fully baring its teeth. it festered and hardened into something with jagged edges and the feeling was definitely mutual.

caleb wouldn’t say he hated you, no. but there were a lot of things he hated about you.

he hated how you always needed the last word in the lab, how you reran his tests just to prove you could do them faster. he hated the way you stood over his shoulder in those tight button down shirts and straight legged lounge slacks underneath your lab coat and nitpicked every line of his reports like you were the only person in the building who understood chain of custody. he hated how you signed your name on evidence logs in that neat, infuriating cursive. how you gave that smug little smile when jenna praised your work, eyes flicking toward him like you were daring him to object.

he didn't hate that you were more brilliant than him. but he did hate how you thought you were simply better than him for it, no room for disagreement or debate.

a deeper, far more inconvenient part of him hated something else entirely, though. the way your plump, glossy lips looked when you bit them in concentration. the way your lashes framed your wide, doe-like eyes when you finally hit a breakthrough. that sometimes, when you leaned over the microscope or stretched to reach a shelf late into a shift, having long since taken off your lab coat, he had to physically wrench his eyes away from the curve of your ass or the slope where your waist met your chest like some teenage boy who had never seen an adult magazine before.

whenever that itch crawled up his spine and lodged itself in his chest, he buried it deep. he blamed it on exhaustion when it happened late at night. delusion when it happened during long shifts. it was just too much proximity and too many hours and too much you absolutely everywhere stamping your annoying presence in the logs, the notes, the findings, the reports, hell even the trash. at least, that’s what he told himself.

work consumed most of his life anyway. if he wasn’t at the precinct, he was at the gym, or grabbing a drink with gideon and the rest of their friend group. once a month, without fail, he drove out to linkon to visit grandma josephine. his schedule left little room for anything else. besides, his priorities were his career and making sure his gran was taken care of.

it wasn’t that caleb was lonely, no. far from it. he was well liked enough at work. he kept in touch with friends from college. and caleb was sure, if he tried, he wouldn’t have trouble finding someone to spend the night with, or even eventually settle down with. he just didn't feel the need to.

while all his old friends, gideon included (though he seemed to pick up a new girl every couple weeks) found themselves girlfriends and partners and travelled the world, with constant new stories, new experiences, and meeting new people, caleb found that his company was enough to keep him satisfied. he was fine being the lone wolf, though he’d never say that out loud. it sounded corny.

and that was his foolproof explanation as to why he found himself overly thinking about you late into the night, on the drive home, in the shower, when his mind wandered while wrapping up a last minute case. that it came from frustration, and maybe even from being touch starved. but there was absolutely no deeper meaning to it.

tonight, however, was testing his resolve.

it’s nearly eleven and jenna wants the finalized report on the first phase of the EVER case first thing in the morning. paper copy with everyone’s signature in ink and everything, the whole archaic ritual.

and caleb's piece of shit printer chooses that exact moment to die. the godforsaken little screen above the paper cavity blinking ‘Ink Cartridge Error’. how could it betray him when he needed it most?

he tries everything short of threatening it with a firearm.

he tears through every cabinet in his home office, then the living room, the media console under the tv, the kitchen pantry, even the back of his closet. the only thing he manages to unearth is his old high school basketball jersey, which had been missing for months after suspiciously disappearing in a load of laundry.

then he does the next most logical thing.

he texts gideon with complete urgency and a perfectly reasonable number of threatening emojis, begging him to please, if you have printer ink, if you have any at all, bring it over now.

gideon’s reply comes a few minutes later.

Not home.

caleb replies within seconds, which he might have been more embarrassed about had he not been desperate.

if u can’t come over i will send u the documents bro js print them out for me plz 😭😭😭😭😭😭😢😢 i’ll pick them up tmr morning thx

after another couple minutes comes gideon’s reply.

Spending the night at my girls i thought u broke up w her? That was Jules I’m with Tara now Didn’t I introduce you to her at Viper’s party last wk? dude viper does not fw me why would i come to his party 😭✌️

caleb conveniently decides to leave out the fact that he hadn’t even known there was a party, let alone been invited.

Oh Well you can meet her on Friday We still on for Friday right? 👀

caleb just groans and fights the overwhelming urge to repeatedly slam his head on the wall.

which he then proceeds to do anyway, really loudly, ten times in succession.

he immediately regrets it afterwards, staring at the angry red mark forming at the center of his forehead in his bathroom mirror as he rummages through the medicine cabinet for something to dull the sting.

finally locating the cream, he smears it over the blemish with one hand while scrolling through store listings on his phone with the other.

closed.

closing in ten minutes. twenty minutes away.

closed.

everything practically closes at ten and the only one that’s open until midnight was in the next city over. even if caleb floored the gas pedal in his modest little sports car (which he invested in recently, thanks to late nights of overtime with you), by the time he’d reach there it would have closed as well.

which leaves him with no other option

the one thing he had secretly sworn to himself he would never do since the day you punched your number into his phone. for work emergencies only, you told him. don’t even think about sending me those unfunny videos you and nero are always laughing at instead of helping me close a case.

his thumb hovers over your contact name. your default contact photo stares back at him almost menacingly, though the actual picture suggests otherwise. it’s a simple, bare faced selfie. you in all your natural glory with your hair loose around your shoulders like a halo, and a soft smile that reaches the sparkle in your eyes. your cat was peeking into the frame from the bottom.

he grits his teeth, ignoring the sudden quickening of his pulse and blaming it on pure irritation and nothing more. after what feels like an eternity, he taps the message icon next to your name, his heart rate increasing unsteadily.

he types out several versions of the same message, each becoming increasingly more hostile, before swallowing his initial irritation and settling on something neutral.

finish the report and bring it here

before adding:

jenna wants a hard copy.

your response comes faster than he expects.

It’s lit done and signed on my end. I’ll email it and u just print it out my printer’s dead Then buy a new one? 😭 just bring it i’ll owe you You alr owe me for the last 3 times “your” findings were actually mine It’s late and I’m in my pajamas now bro idc if ur in a goddamn trash bag bring the report

the typing bubble vanishes. three minutes pass. then ten.

twenty-three stressful minutes later, caleb’s seriously considering asking simone or andrew or somebody for your address, weirdo stalker allegations be damned, when his phone buzzes three times in quick succession.

Fine But ur making me coffee Drop the addy

he regrets it the second he hits send on his address.

now he’s pacing his apartment shirtless, skin still damp from the shower he took in haste (to soothe the pounding on his forehead, he told himself. not because you were coming over or anything). the dog tag he usually wore feels cool against his bare chest, but he barely notices it. he’s too busy trying to pretend his heart isn’t hammering for reasons that have nothing to do with caffeine.

he tells himself he’s just pissed. that’s all. just pissed that you’re making him wait, that you’re probably going to show up looking smug, that you’ve probably rewritten half his conclusions again.

it’s not like his brain is glitching out over the idea of you invading his personal space, or how he'll have to deal with you up close without a lab full of distractions. nope. just work stress that’s festered into dread, he tells himself.

the doorbell to his condo finally rings. he glances at the time.

eleven thirty-two. of fucking course.

he yanks the door open way too hard, expecting your smug expression. what he gets instead makes his brain short circuit.

you stand there in the hallway light wearing a thin white baby tee that clings like it has a personal vendetta, the hem ending just below your navel, and a pair of grey sweatpants slung criminally low on your hips. the fabric is soft, worn and lived in. a lilac bra peeks at the soft square neckline of your top, lace delicate and completely useless at hiding how snug your chest sits beneath it. your hair’s damp and loose, smelling faintly like coconut and that same warm smell and it’s absolutely something that does not belong this close to him.

caleb feels his jaw go slack and something that feels like pure heat coils low in his stomach, sharp and immediate.

damn, if this isn’t the universe's way of testing him. because that’s definitely not a trash bag.

you hold the manila folder out lazily, no pretense of politeness. “your stupid report.”

he doesn’t take it right away. he can’t because he’s too busy recalibrating every thought he’s ever had about you in approximately half a second.

“you’re late, pipsqueak,” he says dumbly, brain running on autopilot. smooth, caleb. real smooth.

you huff out a laugh. “i told you not to call me that. you’re lucky i even came at all... what happened to your face?”

caleb ignores your question and lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, trying to will away every frustration. if he wasn't careful around you, he’d end up boiling over again, just as it happened every time, like a stupid fucking kettle.

at least kettles whistle before they explode.

“get in here,” he says, voice coming out surprisingly rough. “before the neighbors think i ordered a stripper.”

great. way to sound like a caveman.

your eyebrows shoot up for half a beat before quickly recovering. you scoff and brush past him.

“don’t get used to this,” you say, slippers padding softly against the wood floor. the scent follows you, curling into his space like smoke. he shuts the door harder than necessary.

caleb stares at the closed door for a full second before remembering how to move his feet. he quickly turns to follow behind you.

his apartment smells faintly of burnt paper, printer ink and laundry sheets. you wrinkle your nose at the strong smell, then glance at the printer on his desk as he leads you into the office, its error message still blinking like it was mocking him personally.

you turn to him, probably ready to say something stupid. but he wordlessly snatches the report from you before you have the chance to, causing your fingers to brush.

electricity instantly snaps up his arm. he brushes it off as he turns to leave the report at his desk. you don’t seem to notice though, just padding toward his printer like you owned the fucking place. this was clearly a pattern and someone needed to knock you down a peg or two before… why’s his stomach doing that dumb flipping thing again?

“wow,” you say, leaning down towards the offender to get a better look and let out a patronizing laugh. “she really gave up on you.”

“don’t humanize it,” caleb mutters, the usual irritation building again. “hurts my feelings.”

you turn towards him as he opens the folder and let out a hum to catch his attention. he looks your way, eyes glazed over.

“coffee first. bring the report. we can review it together.”

“nice batcave, by the way,” you say as he leads you out of his office, taking in the dark furniture, the single lit lamp, the painting of a fruit bowl above the fireplace. “very brooding, nerdy loner.”

caleb has to physically bite his tongue. so what if he wanted to go for some dark minimalistic chic? he definitely knew what that meant and did not steal the term from the catalogue that came with it when he panic-bought half his furniture post-grad, right before gran visited his new place. he assured her that everything was set up while sleeping on a mattress on the floor for two months straight. desperate times called for desperate measures. caleb feels his temperature rise at the memory of his subsequent bank statement, annoyance prickling at his ears.

you pause by the mirror between the living room and kitchen, catching his eye through the glass. he quickly breaks eye contact, only to be met with his own scowl as he looks up.

“do you practice that glare too or does it come naturally?”

you’re already moving towards the kitchen before he can even think of a response.

“coffee,” you remind him, hopping up onto his counter, legs swinging. the movement makes your shirt ride higher and your sweatpants dip lower. lilac straps flash at your hips.

he turns away before his traitorous brain gives in to delirium.

focus caleb.

“you rewrote my fibre transfer conclusions,” he says, voice flat, flipping through the report while the machine warmed up.

“‘cause they were wrong.”

“they were preliminary!” caleb shoots back, heat crawling up his neck as he opens his cupboard and reaches for two mugs.

“they were sloppy.” you tilt your head in his peripheral. “i know your mindset, caleb. you rushed the secondary locus analysis ‘cause you wanted to leave early for the gym. if I hadn’t caught it, andrew would’ve ripped you a new one tomorrow morning.”

how could you act as if he didn’t take his job seriously? he’s spent way too many nights putting in extra hours and overtime, and practically his entire being into his work, to be disrespected like this.

he sets the mug down harder than intended and meets your gaze with his own leveled one.

“maybe if you didn’t spend every waking minute tryin’ to prove you’re smarter than me—”

“i don’t have to try, caleb.” you cut him off calmly. “i just am.”

the air in the kitchen goes razor-sharp. caleb glowers at you while you just smile, his brain going 100mph.

he steps towards you without thinking. he opens his mouth quickly, a comeback on the tip of his tongue, but you’re quicker.

“caleb.” you stop him, your smug-ass smile growing bigger. “do you wanna sit here and argue all night?… or do you wanna sign the report?”

he shuts his mouth, momentarily distracted by the curve of your lips.

silence settles between you. caleb resigns himself to grabbing a pen from his office, and signing where he needs to, the scratch of pen against paper suddenly very loud. he’s acutely aware of you sitting there, observing over his shoulder, close enough that he can feel your warmth, close enough that the faint scent from earlier is back, sweet and distracting and absolutely illegal. what an unfair advantage.

“now,” you start, once he’s capped the pen, seemingly lost in thought. you cross your arms under your breasts. “you gonna stand there shirtless all night or give me that coffee you promised?”

he’s pulled out of his thoughts and quickly moves back to reestablish space between you. the movement of your arms had pushed your chest higher than necessary and the lace had shifted. he catches the faint outline of your nipples through the thin white fabric.

jesus fuckin' christ. eyes up, soldier. this is not a drill.

caleb busies himself with the coffee maker like it might explode if neglected, very aware of how small his kitchen suddenly feels.

“so,” you continue, voice overly casual. “you live alone, huh? figured there’d be a trail of broken hearts leading to the bedroom.”

he pours your coffee and slides it across the counter. your fingers brush again. but this time, you don’t pull away fast enough. the touch lingers half a second too long, and caleb feels that spark shoot straight up his arm like a live wire.

“careful, pipsqueak,” he says, voice coming out lower than he means, suddenly feeling very charged up. “keep talkin’ like that and i might think you’re jealous.”

you snort, but it sounds a little breathier than usual. “jealous of what?”

he doesn’t answer right away. instead, he steps forward, slow and deliberate, until he’s standing between your swinging legs. your thighs brush his hips, and the heat radiating off you hits him like a punch to the gut.

his brain is officially offline. his common sense screams at him to abort mission. this was you. the same person who’s been driving him insane for the past year. the same person he swears he can’t stand. one wrong move and the next morning at work would be nuclear. he’s sure you’ll discover some new silent torture method to create living hell in the lab.

but for once, the snarky part of him that always has a comeback wins out over the part screaming retreat.

“you’ve been ridin’ my ass for more than a year,” he murmurs, hands coming to rest on the counter on either side of your hips, caging you in without quite touching you yet.

“someone has to keep you honest.” you shoot back. he doesn’t miss the hitch in your voice.

“orrr…” he leans in just a fraction, close enough to see the way your pupils dilate. “you just like gettin’ a rise outta me.”

your breath catches. just barely, but he catches it. and that tiny sound is the match to the gasoline, going straight to his already stirring dick. all the late nights pretending he didn’t like you, all the arguments he replayed in his head on the drive home, all the times he jerked off and dreamt of shutting that smart mouth of yours. it all crashes into him at once.

you tilt your chin up, defiant as ever, oblivious to the fire waging in his mind. though he’s sure if you looked close enough, you’d see it smoldering in his eyes. “i do not like you, caleb. like, at all.”

“yeah?” his hand reaches up to brush his thumb at the edge of your jaw, light at first, almost testing. when you don’t pull away, he lets his hand settle there, fingers curling gently but firmly under your chin.

his heart hammers so hard he’s almost sure you can hear it. completely forgetting his own initiation of the situation, he tells himself that this is his last chance to back out. he should say something mean and defuse this. he should take the folder and send you home.

“i don’t like you.” you repeat, but your voice is surprisingly soft, missing its usual defiance.

and despite your words, you don’t move. your eyes flick to his mouth and rest there for a moment before flicking back up, pupils still blown and eyelashes framing them beautifully.

that alone is enough to crumble what little was left of his resolve. he feels the corner of his own mouth twitch up into a small smile.

“tell me to stop,” he says quietly, leaning in until his lips are a whisper from your ear. his voice once more, comes out rougher than he wants, but he honestly doesn’t care anymore.

you shiver with your whole body and the soft little sound you make is half scoff, half something else entirely.

but you don’t tell him to stop. instead, your palms come up and grab at his bare skin, trying to tug him closer. eventually they settle and find purchase at the conjunction between his collar bone and the chain of his necklace.

“just shut up,” you mutter against his mouth.

and then you pull on the chain harshly and kiss him.

it isn’t gentle. it’s a years worth of stolen glances and petty arguments and pretending he doesn’t want to bend you over the nearest lab bench and fuck the attitude out of you exploding all at once. you taste like coffee and cherry lip gloss and every single bad decision he’s ever talked himself out of. he groans into it, hands finally leaving the counter to snake into your hair.

his lips move against your mouth in earnest, pouring everything, every emotion, he has to give you, reverently sliding his hands down to grip at your thighs, pulling you flush against him. he grips hard enough to leave a bruise through the soft fabric of your sweatpants. you bite his lower lip sharply and he growls before his chest grumbles with a chuckle in response.

if you still had it in you to act so irritably, who was he to complain?

trying to regain more control, he catches your wrists and pins them behind your back with one hand. the movement makes you arch, tits pressing against his bare chest, lace scratching at his skin. your nipples are hard enough that he can feel them through the thin fabric of your shirt. he rolls his hips against your core experimentally, once, twice, three times, before stilling. you whine into his mouth in response.

you look absolutely ruined once you two break apart, gasping for air. your hair’s a mess, your clothes askew, lips kissed perfectly swollen and red. the sight alone is probably enough to make him come in his pants. how can he be sure this isn’t some kind of sick and twisted wet dream? he glances at the clock to confirm his suspicions.

“caleb—” you start, still breathing hard, your chest rising and falling.

he cuts you off by biting the spot just below your ear. hard. then he flicks his tongue over the mark he just left, soothing it. it makes you moan, which is a cute, high pitched, breathy little thing, caleb notes.

he yanks you off the counter, spins you around, and bends you over the kitchen island so fast your palms slap the marble to steady your balance. the top rides up completely. he drags your sweatpants down in one rough pull, taking your thong with it until they pool at your thighs.

you are fucking drenched.

lilac lace dark at the centre, a string of arousal clinging to your pussy like it’s painted on, the entire thing absolutely flush and swollen from need.

“fuck, look at you” he rasps, kicking your feet wider. “walkin’ in here dressed like this, you desperate ‘lil thing. actin’ like you didn’t plan this.” he watches as your pussy flutters and clenches around nothing in response.

he pushes his chest against your back, groping at your tits from behind and pulling at your bra.

“who were you wearing this for exactly?” he asks softly, as you arch into his touch. “really pretty matchin’ set you got there pips. this all for me?”

you try to push up against him in indignation, pretty little mouth falling open as you suck air in, getting ready to deny his bold accusations, but he just slams you back down with a hand between your shoulder blades.

“stay.”

he drops to his knees behind you, spreading you open with his thumbs. you’re glistening, clit swollen, and absolutely fucking perfect. he drags his tongue through your folds in one long, filthy stroke.

you cry out, back bowing.

he does it again and again, setting a relentless rhythm. sucking your clit into his mouth until your legs shake, until you’re pushing back against his face, his nose, his tongue, practically riding it, chasing it.

“god pipsqueak,” he groans against you, your pussy muffling his voice, “you taste even better than i imagined.”

“t-told you—nngh—not to call me that!” you say through your hushed moans and gritted teeth.

caleb just hums against your pussy in response, the vibrations of it sending a shockwave up your spine.

he breaks away momentarily, rubbing his middle and ring finger against your slick and then bringing them to his own mouth, tongue swirling around his digits. he brings them back down and sinks only his middle finger in, mouth latching on again, effectively stretching you out. if you feel this tight against one finger, caleb couldn’t even begin to imagine what you’d feel like wrapped around his dick.

he can tell you’re still biting your lip in earnest, trying to stop the whining and moans threatening to fall from your mouth.

“don’t hide those pretty sounds from me.” caleb growls, plunging his finger in harder, thrusting deeper and faster.

“c-caleb—fuck—”

he slides another finger into you without warning, curling them both just right. you clench around them instantly, more arousal gushing out and dripping.

“soaked,” he mutters against you. “you’re tight as fuck pips. gonna need more than this to take me baby.”

you whine unabashedly now, high and desperate, trying to fuck yourself on his fingers. “please ‘leb—promise i can take it—”

he sucks your clit hard, causing you to gasp, then gives it tiny kitten licks as if to soothe it. your moans became gradually louder and more open.

“you’ll take it when i say you can take it. got it?”

you look down at him through heavy, wet lashes, biting your bottom lip, and nod lightly, as if only half listening. the sight is downright erotic.

caleb quickly gets back to it and continues working you open, tongue lapping up and down your slit, in and out of your hole, while his fingers thrust at you just right until you come hard, clenching around them and gasping his name as if it were oxygen. your thighs shake as he keeps lapping at you through it, only slowing once he’s sure the feeling has passed through you entirely.

he stands wordlessly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and keeps eyes locked on yours as you turn your neck to look back at him with a fucked out expression.

he quickly grabs and lifts you with one hand around your shoulders and the other under your knees, your arms reaching out to wrap around his neck. stopping at the couch, he faintly notices your slippers have fallen off somewhere on the way but doesn’t pay it any more attention, instead opting to drop down on the leather with you straddling his lap.

you shove his sweatpants and boxers down just enough to free his dick, which is already leaking at the tip. your mouth drops open a bit in shock at seeing his sheer size. your tits are spilling out the neckline of your top at this point and your own sweatpants are still hung loosely around your thighs. he feels his dick grow harder (if that was even possible) as you gingerly take him into your hands, smearing the precum all over it.

he reaches out and pulls your top down to fully free your pretty tits, groping until your nipples pebble again and watching as the flush from your neck reaches all the way down. he watches as you eagerly try to work your fingers around his fat dick and chuckles. “that bad, pips?”

you glare at him and stop your ministrations, thumb pressing down meanly into the slit at his tip, making him groan. “do you ever shut up?”

he quickly rolls you onto your back and hooks your knees over his elbows, effectively folding you in half. he grabs his cock and slides it up and down your slit, catching on to your clit. “do you?”

you whine impatiently and grind up against him.

he just clicks his tongue at you, which earns him another glare.

laughing, he grabs his cock and aligns himself with your entrance. slowly he inches himself forward, your pussy sucking him in like a vice. you both moan lowly at the stretch.

he gives you a moment to adjust, silently watching as you bite your lip and look down to where you two are joined. the sight is absolutely lewd, your tight pussy taking his huge dick so perfectly, the tiny thing stretching around it to accommodate his size. your swollen clit practically looks at him first, begging to be flicked again and it takes everything in him to not bottom out completely, in fear of hurting you as you so sweetly took him in.

when he can feel you clamping your pussy down around him repeatedly, your breath quickening and your nails dragging down his arms, rocking your hips against him trying to chase friction, he finally draws out. and slams right back in with vigor, as deep as he could go, placing his hands on either side of your head.

quickly, he sets a brutal pace. he grabs on to your pants, treating them like an anchor, pressing you down, and fucks into you with deep and hard punishing strokes that practically shake the couch, if not the entire living room itself. his dog tag dangles back and forth and your tits spill out of your neckline completely, bouncing with every slam of his hips, as he bends his neck down to kiss you and suck on them.

the angle has him hitting all the right spots. you take every inch, eyes rolling back and mouth hanging open. he’s sure you can feel him in your stomach right now, the way he’s able to reach and feel such depth. his suspicions are confirmed when he looks down once more and sees the faint outline of his dick poking in and out at your lower abdomen. you notice it after looking down as well, moans getting increasingly more louder, and try reaching between your bodies but caleb swiftly gathers your wrists and pins them above your head.

“eyes on me.” he says gruffly.

you moan obscenely but follow his instructions, gaze locking with his as he reaches between to rub at your clit in your stead. “fuck, ‘leb—harder, haaa—please harder!”

and who was he to deny you when you begged so sweetly? he stops and draws out and you hum in confusion, dazed. he quickly flips you over and presses your head into the couch making you arch in response, ass high up in the air, eagerly awaiting.

he thrusts back into you, setting the same brutal pace as before, but with more force every time. he wraps your hair around his fist and yanks your head back.

“shoulda known.” he breathes against the shell of your ear, and he doesn’t miss the way it raises goosebumps on your neck before pressing his cheek to yours. “shoulda—haaa—known this was all it’d take to get you to shut that pretty lil mouth of yours.”

he continues to fuck into you, deep and unrelenting, feeling your pussy squeeze and gush around him at his words as he continues.

“this what you wanted all along pips? have me—mmmfh—get all fired up so i could fuck you dumb until you’re pleading for me—nngh—beggin’ for me, squeezin’ around my dick?”

“mhmmm nnngh,” you hum in response, bouncing your ass back and meeting his increasingly more erratic thrusts eagerly.

he suddenly stills, letting go of your hair, and pulls out, leaving only the tip inside. he presses your hips down firmly when you try to chase it.

“say it.”

“y-yeah. fuck, yes, i got on your nerves ‘cause I wanted you to fuck me stupid—please cal—”

he thrusts back into you so hard your knees become airborne for a good second, and the surprised half gasp, half moan that leaves your mouth is probably the most angelic thing caleb’s heard in his entire life.

it only takes a couple more thrusts until you come hard, pussy creaming around his dick, whimpering as it rolls through your entire body in waves. you’re sure you can feel it all the way in your pinky toe, thighs shuddering as he helps you ride it out.

the fluttering is enough to send him over the edge as well. “fuck baby, i’m—haa“, he pulls out and spills all over your back, spurts of cum landing on your top as he moans your name, his cock jerking and twitching.

exhausted and absolutely spent, he slumps down on top of you, moving your hair out of the way to press a kiss to your neck, faintly noticing all the hickeys he's left. he barely has time to mull over how you'd hide them at work the next morning before his eyes flutter shut, arms snaking around you securely.

you let him stay like that for a bit but after a moment the weight of him becomes too heavy.

“caleb,” you squirm underneath him, trying to free yourself from his embrace, “caleb, get off.”

he just hums and nuzzles his cheek against yours, wordlessly rolling the two of you over so that you can rest against his bare chest.

you lift your head in the direction of the counter to check the time, but your eye catches sight of something else.

your voice is still hoarse when you call his name again.

“caleb.”

you have to admit, he looks almost angelic with his eyes closed, blissfully unaware. a stark contrast to his usually stinky attitude.

you poke at his cheek. “caleb.”

no response.

you shake his arms. “caleb.”

still no response.

“caleb!”

“mmm” comes the infuriatingly sexy grumble, somewhere low in his chest. but still his eyes stay shut.

“caleb, the report is trashed.”

he instantly opens his eyes and lifts his head in the same direction. and sure enough, there it is. the stapled pages ripped apart and askew, and the folder itself nowhere to be found.

you both look at each other for a beat, before bursting into laughter. genuine and earnest laughter.

you get up, and he adjusts your clothes and hair for you, apologizing softly about the mess on the back of your top, saying he'll get you a glass of water as you find your slippers. “come on big boy. let’s get you a new one printed.”

and he lets you lead the whole way.

notes. hope caleb isn't too ooc or anything. ik next to nothing abt forensics or law enforcement except for the few google searches i made while writing this so if anything's wrong or inaccurate sorry abt that. pls share ur thoughts on this. i def wanna write more for all the lis and i have a lotta ideas for each so lmk lmk

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

Riraku