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urween · 7 days ago

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showing rookie the ropes⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ callahan ( detective oc ) & alastair ( police oc ) x criminal ftm reader

NSFW ⓘ⠀coninuation of this , threesome , degradation ( from callahan ) , use of cunt & pussy

Being caged in Callahan's house wasn't all bad.

Who knew the detective would so lovingly take care of you like a stray cat that's too adorable to walk by? Before you're even awake and on your feet, you can hear Callahan busy in the kitchen, making breakfast for the both of you.

He serves you food with a ceramic plate and silverware for each meal despite spending months on end trying to find and arrest you. Yet you're here, under his watch, his care, because you—apparently—are the key to his ongoing case. Whether that was true or false, not even Callahan knew the answer.

The faint chirping of birds reminded you of how early Callahan routinely woke up at. The soft flickers of sunlight streaked across Callahan's floors; the white specks of dust floating in the air had entertained your eyes like a morning warm-up.

“I have a day off,” Callahan grumbled as if he had to force those words out, “Do whatever you want today.” He skewered the fried egg onto his fork and brought it to his mouth, chewing quietly as an awkward blanket of silence draped over the both of you.

He watches your head shake up and down sleepily, like you're about to nod off back to sleep.

“If you're that fucking tired just go to sleep.” He stood up abruptly from his chair, the wooden legs screeching along the floorboards. He circles the table to reach you, hooking his hands under your thighs to hoist you up over his shoulder. “You can heat it up later when you're not about to fall on the damn plate.”

He hears your retaliations, just chooses not care. Callahan's struggling with the way you're wriggling in his grasp, hitting his chest, caging his waist with your legs to try and wrestle him off, and whining about how you're awake enough to eat.

“God damn it, just stay still alright—” He pauses when he sees you pant underneath him, cheeks flushed, and hands up in surrender. Now, if that doesn't get him all worked up.

He stares for a heartbeat too long before he pushes himself off of you, shifting his gaze to anything else but your face. Callahan reachs for one of his pillows, chucking it over your face as he grabs your legs and pulls them up.

“Don't give me those eyes, I know what you want,” He grunts as he watches you move the pillow off your face just for him to push it back down, “We'll make it quick.”

His fingers loop under his belt buckle, undoing the hold clasp enough that he could unzip his pants. He let your legs rest against his left shoulder as he turned his attention to your clothing, slipping your pyjama pants off and all the way to your slide off your ankles.

Callahan pulls his own boxers down enough so his dick could spring out, sighing at the shameless sight of his own erection. He never understood how you could get under his skin this much.

Binding your legs with a hand squeezing your calves together, he pushes them up a little bit more until they're a 90 degree angle to your body.

“You get wet so quick,” He chastises you as if that's a bad thing. As if he isn't eagerly sliding the underside of his cock along your slit, scoffing at the way your legs jump from the contact. “Keep still, don't kick me,” he groans, breaching your cunt with his tip before shoving the rest of himself inside you.

He comes to cage your thighs with the curl of his arm as his chest presses flush against the underside of your legs. From this angle he can look down at how your fingers dig into the pillow, holding it to your face just to ground yourself. A little part of him wants to murmur praise, but he pushes that down when he remembers the whole reason why you're here.

You were a criminal.

That thought alone triggered the muscles in Callahan's hand to clench around the soft skin of your leg, imprinting the pads of his finger into you. He bottomed out, leaning forward so he could thrust even deeper past the warm clutch of your body.

“Fuck.” Callahan curses beneath his breath as the vulgar sound of wet flesh slapping against flesh rung through his ears like a high frequency. Your small whines and whimpers were drowned out by the fluff of the pillow while he continues to pound into you as if it were punishment for seemingly nothing.

He let out a louder groan, head tilting off to the side as he loses himself in you, relishing in how your pussy clenched around him like a warm embrace. He mumbled about being close paired with a few degrading words that you could barely hear behind the pillow.

Callahan's hips still as he grips your legs just a tad tighter, stuffing you full of his cum. He keeps himself plugged in your cunt, taking a breather to come down from the high. Through post-orgasm bliss leaving the both of you dazed and satisfied, neither you or Callahan could hear the gentle click of the door opening.

“Sir? Are you alright? i hear grunting—”

That almost whimpish voice—which you didn't recognise—was enough for you to peek over the pillow to see a man with tacky platinum hair and black rimmed glasses standing in the doorway. He seemed to be dressed in a police uniform of sorts, too crisp to be anyone of high authority.

Though you can feel the gradual stiffening of Callahan's dick still nestled inside of you, which undoubtedly pulls a cocky remark from your mouth, “You're into that?” You manage to speak your mind before Callahan is pressing the pillow against your face once more.

“Oh. Woah— Uh, I mean... I didn't mean to intrude I just—” The officer's stammering pulled a long sigh from Callahan and a pinch to his nose bridge.

“If you keep pressing the pillow to his face you're going to suffocate him...” He shifts awkwardly on the spot, eyes darting everywhere but where you and Callahan are connected.

You—dramatically—gasp for air once Callahan removes the pillow from your face, turning your head to look at the man standing in the doorway.

“If you care about this criminal so much why don't you look after him?” Callahan scoffs as he scrutinises Alastair, observing the way the platinum haired officer shuffled around on the spot like a restless dog. Though Callahan may find it highly irritating, the way Alastair is so carefully averting his gaze from your half naked form is somewhat endearing.

“What are you still staring at? You want a turn?” Callahan pulls out of you, suppressing a groan as he sees white leak out of your hole the second he's not stuffed inside you. He haphazardly wipes himself with a tissue before stuffing his still stiff dick into his pants.

“Seems like you're a fucking virgin at your age,” Callahan doesn't even bother to clean you up before he's shifting his spot on the bed to sit behind you. He grabs your waist as he handles you in a position where your back is against his chest. Its oddly domestic, too affectionate for you to relax against him.

“But would your— companion, want... that?” He circles the bed to stand at the end of your feet, covering his eyes so he's not staring at your crotch.

“If he didn't he'd be scrambling out of my grip.” Callahan's hand curls around your side, digging into the skin beneath your ribcage.

“Do something,” Callahan growls. He can feel you tense awkwardly under Alastair's quiet gaze, and he hates that. “Or do I have to teach you?”

Alastair lowers his hand from his eyes, pupils dilating enough to cover the color of his iris. He gawks for a bit—can't pull his eyes away from the erotic sight of his superiors cum dripping out from your slick cunt. It's vile, unprofessional, and yet Alastair can't help but stare.

Callahan drawls out a sigh, fingers descending your body as he roughly plunges them inside your pussy. The curl of his fingers makes you writhe, mostly out of the abruptness of it. He scoops out his own seed, the sticky substance coats his fingers like honey, and he brings it to your mouth. He prods at your lips with the tips of his hand, half smearing the white along your mouth before you part them enough to take it.

Alastair stares, frozen like a deer and growing an inexplicable boner from the sight. The way you let Callahan to do that, and even swirl your warm tongue over his knuckles, evokes a strange warmth in his gut.

“Lean your head down,” Callahan is already barking out commands before Alastair can snap out of his lewd fantasies. He follows accordingly, its an order after all. Alastair lowers his face until its just shy of your body. He can feel the gentle heat radiating off of you.

“Don't get all too excited, rookie, make him feel good before you stick your tongue in,” it's like scolding a disobedient dog with the way Alastair pulls back into his shoulders as if to hide away from his harsh tone.

He places one hand on your inner thigh, immediately retracting it when he feels the muscle twitch under his touch. Alastair's mouth slowly opens and his tongue darts out to sample a taste. You can feel Callahan's fingers tighten around your body absent-mindedly as he practically seethes at how wimpish Alastair is.

“I'm about to die of old age before I can hear him moan,” Callahan grunts, finally caving in as he snakes his hand to your front, roughly pressing on your clit with his index finger. The sudden pressure to your nerves gets a whine bubbling in your throat.

There's something so alluring to how your eyes flutter shut, lips parted and the prettiest noises spill from your mouth just from one touch. Alastair's only seen your face from blurred security footage or low quality images, but never this close and this expressive.

There's a small fluttering in his stomach before he moves without second thought.

Alastair's tongue meets your folds, delving in-between the crevices like he's licking syrup off of his morning toast. His tongue delves out to brush against your opening like licking along your bottom lip when kissing. The stark contrast between the two confuses your body. Callahan is so ruthlessly circling your bundle of nerves with just one finger, yet Alastair is so gently exploring every dip and crevice of your cunt.

“You're enjoying this aren't you?” A deep rumble comes from behind you as Callahan's free hand curls around the column of your throat. “Being tongue-fucked by some cop? What kind of thief are you?”

Though, Callahan doesn't squeeze, nor apply any pressure. He just holds, feeling your pulse quicken as Alastair's tongue delves past your hole and into your wet channel.

“I bet you he's no better than a machine,” he growls “You know I'd do better, but I wouldn't want to put my mouth anywhere near this dirty pussy.”

Callahan lifts his hand up just to bring it back down with a sharp slap to your clit, musing at the way Alastair flinches upon having Callahan’s hand come down so quickly right in front of his face.

You’d feel bad—

If he wasn’t currently sucking you off like his life depended on it.

Alastair is pathetically hard by now; his pants are straining so much he swears he can hear the rip of thread from it. He drags his tongue along the warm walls of your cunt, savoring the way you clench and groan from the sensation—he’s so shamefully picturing how his superior would break through the clench of your pussy, drive himself deeper until he hits your cervix, and how you’d let all those sweet, deliberately loud noises to provoke him further.

You see Callahan’s free hand—the one that wasn’t cradling the curve of your throat—move down to Alastair’s hair, and for a moment, you believe he’s going to thread his fingers between those platinum strands and brush the hair out of his face.

He didn’t.

It wouldn’t be Callahan if he did.

His fingers curled into Alastair’s scalp, grabbing a fistful of hair like pulling roots from the soil. With a sharp tug, Callahan pries Alastair off of you, holding his head up like he’d just dunked the man in a bucket of water. Alastair doesn’t fight it—in fact, he lifts his head to meet eyes with you, dazed like he’d taken his first sip of alcohol when he was eighteen.

Callahan merely scoffs at the sight as he moves his hand from your throat, down your stomach, and to your reddened sex. He doesn’t care for foreplay, especially from how close you were to the end. It slid in a little too easy, his fingers entering with a sickening squelch. Knuckle-deep, Callahan curls just enough to bump your g-spot.

“Ah– fuck.” You jolt, jerking against the weight of Callahan’s arm draped over your body. He alternates between curling his fingers and thrusting his fingers shallowly before he widens the thrusts, fingering you with a new found energy.

He sees Alastair, all round eyes, dumber than a deer in headlights.

And he can’t help but get a little irked at that.

“Open.” Callahan curls his fist tighter in Alastair’s hair, shaking him a little to get him out of that daze. When Alastair finally comes to his senses he rolls his mouth open, tongue slicked with saliva like he was fucking salivating.

The back and forth movement of Callahan’s hand gets more intense, drawing out your orgasm with each press against your walls, punishing your sweet spot. Your incessant squirming and whining grates on Callahan’s nerves; you’re enjoying yourself a little too much. He slams his palm down harder with each thrust in, deliberately hitting your clit with a force that bordered pain. “Just cum already, I’m done dealing with you.” He growls lowly in your ear, yanking Alastair closer to your body as he hooks his fingers inside of you, harshly pressing against that one spot. Your restrain slips, and the next thing you know, Callahan is angling Alastair’s head to catch your orgasm in his mouth. Alastair’s left eye flickers shut, feeling the warmth of your cum splatter across his face as he eagerly swallows what he’s given.

Callahan’s grip loosens, falling away from Alastair’s hair before he chucks a blanket over your body, wrapping you up in the fabric like he was shielding you from Alastair’s wandering eyes.

“Go get yourself fixed up. We’ll talk when you’re done.”

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