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honeyblackberries · 4 months ago

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In the back seat (18+)

caleb x fem reader/mc smut

minors dni | inspired by diet pepsi by addison rae | cross-posted to ao3

word count: 1466

cw: simp caleb, soft dom caleb, he also likes to bite, pantie freak caleb, reader enables him, praise, oral (fem receiving), p in v, responsible car sex <333 (don't get freaky in a rental car irl), irresponsible intercourse (caleb doesn’t wrap it before he taps it), porn with feelings, porn no plot because idk how to write plot but i also can’t really write porn so maybe this is a secret third thing, no set pov.

names used: pips (pipsqueak but cuter), good girl, pretty girl, my girl

If Caleb is being honest with himself this moment is something straight out of his teenage fantasies. Driving along the coast with you in the passenger's seat, listening as you sing along to a song that’s been on repeat for the past half hour. Hair softly blowing in the wind as the late afternoon sun glows behind you like a halo.

You’re an angel he thinks, how else could you bless him with such a gift on one of his rare days off. The keys to his dream car—with the disclaimer that it was only a rental during his visit to Linkon—and that short sundress… His gaze unconsciously drifts from the road and onto you.

Maybe wet dreams are a better description for this. The way the hem of your dress rides up your thighs while you shift to find a more comfortable position, cotton panties peeking out underneath it.

Your eyes meet his and Caleb feels his pants tighten.

Today was supposed to be a well deserved break from all the demands that come with being the Farspace Fleet’s Colonel. Something relaxing. Yet he can’t help but feel inclined to the complete opposite. Back ramrod straight and hand, previously loose and confident on the wheel, now gripping it so tight that his knuckles strain.

“I'm happy you’re here,” you say sweetly and he has to stop himself from acting like a horny dog. “Is there anything you wanna do before we head home?”

“Eat you out,” he thinks dreamily.

“..What?”

Shit. Shit. How could he say that out loud!? He’s an idiot, a depraved fool—

“Well, okay.”

He almost crashes the car.

“Are you sure? We don’t have to—I mean—I didn’t mean to say it out loud,” you laugh at him and he isn’t sure whether to be mortified or turned on.

“Pull over.” He does.

Caleb doesn’t realise it but despite the less than innocent circumstances his silly reaction makes you smile. Happy at the expression that settles on his handsome face. How his eyes light up in a way you never really see anymore, giddy and unrestrained.

‘Cute,’ you want to tease, but he’s already rolling the tinted windows up. Undoing his seatbelt and moving into the back seat. Oh how could you keep him waiting when he’s just so eager? You undo your own seatbelt and amusedly follow along. Moving to get on top of him.

“Don’t hover pips,” he instructs—in that know-it-all voice he’s used since you were kids—and you don’t get the chance to consider it. Not when his hands trail under your skirt to grab your thighs and impatiently bring you down onto his face.

“Fuck you smell so good,” his nose presses right against your clothed heat. He inhales deeply. “I could get off just from smelling you, just from smelling these,” his lips part to let teeth graze the thin fabric of your panties.

“I can keep 'em when we're done, yeah?” His hot breath makes a shiver run through you in anticipation. His tongue licks down the centre where a wet patch starts to form. “I’ll cook dinner in return.”

You want to argue that he always cooks dinner. But you want what he’s currently offering more.

Your small hum of agreement is all he needs.

Safe to say, Caleb does mouth at you like a dog. Desperate, hungry, tongue heavy and slobbering. You have to push yourself against his chest to keep steady. The toned muscles there flexing as he eats like he’s been starved.

“Good girl, sittin’ so pretty for me,” his praise is barely understandable. Voice muffled and lower than a moment ago.

One of his hands leaves your thighs, his fingers moving to the fabric separating you. He teasingly pulls it back and lets go, a light snap against your skin. You flinch and he chuckles in response. He then pushes it to the side to expose you bare to him. Continuing to lick, this time with the addition of his thumb rubbing directly against your sensitive bud.

“Delicious,” he moans at the taste and sucks at your clit for more.

You’re not sure how long you last before everything crashes down all at once. Your orgasm racking your body and leaving you trembling. Dripping right into his open mouth.

The way your breath hitches and small whines you make when you cum always remind him how he could spend the rest of his life between your thighs. Forever wanting you pliant in his hold like this.

As you start to feel yourself coming down from the high, Caleb lightly bites at your tender flesh, making you yelp. He places a soft kiss in apology, even though you both know he isn’t sorry in the slightest.

In an act of revenge you start to reach for where he needs it. Fingertips barely brushing the large tent in his pants before he grabs your wrist to stop you.

“Next time pips, I’ll go crazy if I’m not inside you soon.” At that you’re suddenly flipped around, back pressed against the leather seat. Wedged in the cramped space afforded to you between the car and his large body.

Caleb looks down at you with a wide grin. The lower half of his face damp with your arousal and his own saliva.

“Let me put it in?”

Even when he’s like this the words come out as a question. He’ll only do it if you let him, only if you want it half as much as he does. His silver necklace dangles in front of you and reflected in it is your lips, curled up into an affirmative.

Caleb wastes no time. Hurriedly undoing his pants and freeing his hard leaking cock. Leaning over you with one hand beside your head as the other grasps his reddened tip and nudges you panties to the side with it. Lining himself up he sinks into you slowly.

“You’re heaven,” he yaps, already pussy drunk. "You feel like heaven, ugh—like you were made for me. Weren’t you?”

He shakes his head at his own words, as if a better explanation came to him. Then he resolutely bottoms out inside you.

“No, I was the one made for you.”

“Caleb—” you whine at the feeling of being so full. Arms moving to wrap around his torso, not sure if to hold him closer or push him away.

He groans, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to fight off the orgasm that would have had him cumming from the way you say his name. Testingly, he pulls out slightly just to push back in. Repeating shallow thrusts to get you comfortable.

“More,” you beg.

“Of course,” he kisses you and you can taste yourself on him. “I aim to please.” His pace quickens, becoming rough. You can’t help but clench at the immediate change.

“Oh shit—loosen up pretty girl.” You try to.

Over and over you feel his cock try to make your cunt give in to him, and when he feels the grip of your walls ease up slightly he angles his hips to hit deeper.

You claw at his back, the fabric of his shirt catching under your fingers. The feeling of him too much.

“You like that huh?”

The car windows are fogging at the spike in body heat, neither of you letting up until you both get your fill. The sounds of shallow breathing and skin against skin the only thing that can be heard.

Caleb bites your lip when he kisses you in between thrusts. Like he wants to devour you in every way possible.

“I’m—close,” you bury your face into his neck, trying to ground yourself.

He nearly slips entirely out of you. Hips starting to lose their rhythm, a sign that he is too.

“I know—fuck—cum with me.”

Your release comes first, and he doesn’t last long after.

“That's my girl.”

His movements slow as he spills into you. A white ring forming around the base of him as a mix of both your cum tries to leak out. He grinds a few times to make sure it stays then collapses on top of you.

The two of you remain like that for a few minutes, relishing in the feeling of your chests pressed together as you cool down. Caleb’s cock slowly going limp inside you.

His hands move to cradle your face, gently stroking your cheeks as he kisses all over with cherishing lightness.

“I love you.”

“Love you too Caleb.”

Then he has to go and ruin the moment.

“Panties please,” he holds out his hand. Asking for a treat.

You sigh, the post-nut clarity kicking in. “I’ll give it to you after I wash it.”

“Don’t wash it.”

“...”

a/n: rip need everyone to know this was initially supposed to be a sylus fic. also what do we think do we like me actually trying to make the layout nice/not write in all lowercase??

#might have been possessed whenever i sat down to work on this #caleb smut #love and deepspace smut #lads x reader smut #caleb x reader #caleb x mc #caleb x fem reader #caleb x you #lads smut #lnds smut #l&ds smut #love and deepspace fic #love and deepspace x reader #xia yizhou smut #either the worst or best thing ive written and i genuinely cant tell which

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deepspacenova · 5 months ago

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for fear that you find out how I'm imaginin' you

sylus invites you to a valentine's-themed event in Linkon City to help him acquire a a piece of jewelry he'd been eyeing... or does he?

➻➻ ABOUT | 2100 words. sylus x gn!reader.

➻➻ TAGS | mutual pining. daydreaming. valentine's day. inspired by hozier lyrics.

NOTE: Happy Valentine's Day from my corner of the world! xx This one's dedicated to my kindred spirit and fellow lover of hozier, mutual pining, and good ol', sick-to-your-stomach yearning @mythblossoms <333

The heart of Linkon City beat like a hummingbird’s wings, a light but invisible force that made the air feel like a kiss against your skin instead of a bite. Made the bustle of the city sound melodic rather than cacophonous.

Funny, how one day in February could be a pair of rose-colored glasses — slipped on by even the most cynical, turning their surroundings soft and sweet, if only for a day.

You stepped out of the elevator, still debating why you’d agreed to this in the first place.

Or, more accurately, why you hadn’t found a way to decline before Sylus effortlessly maneuvered you into being his date for tonight.

The invitation had come in typical Sylus-fashion — a late-night call, his tone coy and coaxing as he relayed only the vaguest of details. He’d been hunting a rare piece of jewelry, his chance to acquire it would be at a Valentine’s Day event in Linkon City that required a plus-one. You were coming with him.

“And you can’t invite someone else because…?”

“You’re the only person I trust to have my back in Linkon, kitten.”

Matter-of-fact. Little fanfare. And yet…

“And… I wanted to see you in the dress I bought you — the one you still haven’t worn?”

And yet every ‘request’ of his was coated in a helpless, almost longing undertone. It dripped with yearning and tasted like honey.

And you, in turn, became helpless too.

Now, hands hidden within the pockets of his trousers as he stood near the event’s entrance — a rooftop greenhouse decorated in a garden of pink and red — you proved yourself to be the worst person to have Sylus’ back, unable to tear your focus away from him long enough to notice anything else around you.

Despite being possibly the biggest outsider in the room he carried himself like a man who belonged, like a man who owned the room. And as his eyes trailed from your black-heeled feet to your pink-tinted cheeks like two ruby spotlights, he straightened, stepped forward, and wrapped your hand around his bicep like you were the person who owned him.

“I was starting to think you’d stand me up.” His voice was low and warm and just a little teasing.

"And throw you to all these bloodthirsty wolves?" You gestured at the mellow cocktail party in front of you and arched a brow. “The way you made it sound, if I didn’t show up, they’d be scraping you off the dance floor by midnight.”

He quirked those deliciously full, infuriatingly symmetrical lips. “It’s a good thing I have a beautiful and fierce date here to keep me in one piece.” His gaze dragged over you once more, slower this time. And though nothing outwardly changed about his expression, his voice infused more warmth into your cheeks when he murmured, “I knew it’d suit you.”

You fought against the pull of yourself, cleared your throat as every drop of you ached to surge toward its moon, toward him, and entered the room with as much poise and aloof confidence as you could pull together.

The flowers surrounding them were bathed in the light of candelabra stationed around the room. The air was thick with the tang of their perfume and the sharp din of a room full of business-minded guests. These weren’t just wealthy socialites; these were people who knew the game — dealers, informants, fencers, smugglers.

And they were all watching Sylus.

He’d played with this crowd long enough to know exactly how to charm, how to influence, how to make people feel like they were the most important person in the room while revealing nothing of himself.

To them, he was an enigma—a man with resources and influence, yet no verifiable past. They would’ve loved nothing more than to pick him apart. Which meant that any crack in his carefully crafted exterior of ruthless corporate tycoon would draw their attention like blood in water.

He knew how to keep himself possessive but detached. Light touches at the small of a back, gaze wandering when he passed over a glass of wine, no part of his attention ever lingering too long.

But you were more than a crack.

You were a fracture, an earthquake that threatened to shake him, split his chest open, and reveal the fragile, fluttering thing inside of him to the whole room with one glance. One blush. One breath.

Because tonight, you weren’t just a fixture by his side. You were something else entirely. The only scent in his nose, the only sound in his ears, the only sight in his dress.

He should have been focused on the man in front of him, the one he was here to meet, the one whose words he was supposed to be committing to memory.

Instead, his mind spiraled away from him, caught in a tailwind of hallucination.

One that captured the details of your rising and falling chest, your bitten lips, your shifting stance. Coalescing them into the feel of your hand is his when he’d lead you around the corner, away from prying eyes. When he’d feel the heat of your body flush against his own, your fingers branding the nape of his neck, the center of his chest, the waistband of his trousers.

When he’d taste your lips, your wine-tinged breath, the petal-soft skin of your neck beneath his lips. When he’d swallow your gasps and moans with panted, open-mouthed kisses.

When he’d press you into the low garden wall, hoard you in the corner to himself. Not like an object or possession, not you were something. But like you were everything.

Would you want that? Would you let him?

The man across from you both was still talking.

Sylus clenched his jaw, tried to redirect his focus. Forced himself to nod at something and offer a well-placed hum of interest.

But the words blurred as you pulled his attention taut like a rope, fraying it at the edges.

And Sylus wasn't sure he could keep it from unraveling completely.

The evening continued to pass in a blur of wine, small talk, and stolen glances. Sylus played his part perfectly, charming everyone he spoke to and keeping the attention firmly on himself.

But every now and then, you’d catch him looking at you, his eyes dark and unreadable, and you’d feel that same pull between you, the one that made it so hard to remember why this was such a bad idea. That you were a resident of Linkon City, not some anonymous figure who could disappear into the crowd if things went sideways.

If anyone from Linkon recognized you here, if they saw you with him—

Sylus leaned down, breath ghosting over your ear as the owner of Sylus’ mysterious piece of jewelry lead them to another group of tuxes. "Relax, kitten."

"You brought me here, remember?" you said under your breath. "If I get recognized, that's your problem."

"Hm." Sylus seemed to consider what you thought were very valid concerns, until he said, “It's a good thing you’re the only problem I don’t mind having.”

Though he kept his gaze forward, his lips quirked in expectation. Like he was trying to burn the paper-thin wall between you into wisps of smoke.

You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. You were already standing too close, already betraying yourself too much. In the way you had to keep forcing yourself to stop glancing at his face. In the way your palm kept tightening around his bicep. In the way your other palm itched to grasp his, which swayed gently between your bodies.

"You keep looking at me like that," he murmured, his voice a smooth, knowing drawl, "and I’m going to start thinking you enjoy spending time with me.”

Your amused scoff does nothing to banish the hot and fluttery thing that unfurls in your stomach. ”I’m looking at you like that because I’m wondering how much trouble you’re going to get me into."

His voice was all sand and gravel. “If I wanted you in trouble, sweetie, we’d be moving away from this crowd not closer to it.”

It was dangerous, how easy this was. How he always knew exactly what to say to keep the sound of your heartbeat echoing in your ears and make the rest of the world fade into the background.

"Besides there's nothing to worry about," Sylus continued, dipping his head just slightly, his breath warm against your temple. "No one here is paying attention to you."

You arched a brow, refusing to let him be the one to make you break character as the tuxes morph into men with voices and bodies and faces. "Except for you."

Again, no change in Sylus’ expression, but his final murmur before he greeted the new group was smug and wolfish. "You say that like I could help myself."

The conversation around you drifted in and out of your focus. A blend of polite pleasantries and measured negotiations that you only half-listened to, which, you supposed you should’ve been grateful for since it only strengthened your role as arm trophy.

Logically, you knew there were eyes on him—some curious, some wary, some openly hostile. Not everyone in this room admired Sylus. Some feared him. Some wanted him gone.

And yet. Despite knowing that keeping your distance kept you both safe, your thoughts grew increasingly more dangerous as you succumbed to the consequences of him.

You imagined Sylus’ hands in your hair, cupping your face and easing your legs around his waist. His voice a low murmur, you have no idea what you do to me, kitten.

You could almost see his shirt hastily unbuttoned and feel fabric bunched at your hips by rough, dominant fingers. You could almost feel his skin against your own, just as flushed, just as feverish.

His lips would descend upon yours, hot and insistent. Your eager fingers clutched at his nape, tracing the broad plains of his shoulders. Your chest could almost feel the expanse of Sylus’ chest pressed against yours until—

You clenched your fists, nails digging into your palms, desperately trying to detach yourself from the daydream. You had to push it down, lock it away, keep yourself in check. Because if you didn’t—

You might do something reckless.

Like, close the space between you. Let yourself forget what he was, what you were, and what it would mean to want him.

Your pulse pounded in your ears as you forced yourself to look away, to breathe. The heat in your skin, the ache in your gut — it was just the atmosphere, just the act.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

And yet, as Sylus turned his head slightly, his gaze catching yours with something dark and knowing, you had a feeling he wasn’t fooled in the slightest.

The crisp night air did little to cool the heat still thrumming beneath your skin as Sylus led you outside. The sounds of laughter and clinking glasses faded behind you, replaced by the quiet hum of the city. A sleek black car idled at the curb, its glossy surface reflecting the glow of streetlights.

Sylus walked you to the back door and opened it, one hand resting on the door, the other slipping into his pocket.

“See? No troublemaking needed,” he murmured, his tone light, almost teasing. “We make a good pair.”

Before you could respond, something cool brushed against your skin. A whisper of metal sliding around your neck, the weight of it settling just above your collarbone. Instinctively, your fingers lifted to touch it—a delicate chain, smooth and fine, and at its center, a pendant that felt solid against your fingertips.

You look up at Sylus, brows knitting in question, but he only watched you with that same unreadable intensity he had all night.

“What is this?” you asked.

He reached out, his fingers brushing over yours where they rested against the pendant. “A gift,” he said simply. “I… hear you’re supposed to ask when you want someone to be yours on Valentine's Day.”

“You…” you exhaled in disbelief. “You planned this?”

“Silly questions don’t deserve answers, kitten.” His smile was all wicked amusement.

Something fluttered in your chest—part irritation, part something much more dangerous. “So, you didn’t actually need me to get this.” You gestured to the necklace, fingers still resting lightly against the pendant.

“No, that sale was made last week. Tonight was just a hand-off.” Sylus leaned in, close enough that his breath ghosted over your cheeks, his voice dipping into something nearly tender. “Like I said, I just wanted you to be mine tonight.”

A half-hysterical laugh bubbles up from your throat. “What if I’d said no? That I don’t belong to anyone?”

"It's alright," Sylus shrugged as if he’d already taken that into consideration, stepping back with one last squeeze of your waist.

“Wouldn't change the fact that I’m already yours."

➻➻ MASTERLIST

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