malevolent shrine

MY IVY BAEEEE!!!!

i switched it up around here real fast, feels like i just got a new apartment lmaooooo

oh god…. OH HE LOVES GIVING AND RECEIVINGGGG!!!! he likes finding those perfect spots omgosh.. he’ll spend forever leaving little kisses and gentle bites to see how much you react. he’s loves the idea of owning you, of it being known that no matter where u are or what ur doing, you belong to him. that he’s ur REASON!!!! i feel like he loves to study you, being so nerdy and all. being able to learn you is his favorite thing, so it’s like a eureka moment when he finds the places that literallyyyy make you purr. he’s gotta study to get better, right? so marking up your most responsive spots that give him those pretty sounds? HE’S DOING IT!!! besides being able to breathe in your scent more than ever in those spots, he likes seeing parts of himself in and on you in any way

now when you give it to him… he tries to be goofy about it but feeling your soft lips and teeth claiming his flesh makes his body HOT!!! “saving some for later off the table?” YEAH HE’S TRYING TO BE FUNNY UNTIL YOU PUSH THE RIGHT BUTTONS!!!! groaning and whimpering till his head spins, i tell u…

he likes when the kisses are wet, too. since his hearing is so excellent, it makes his ears tickle and he really likes that i think. hearing you breathing heavier and ur heartbeat thumping.. he’ll let you devour him if you want to. “i like a woman who know how to eat”

OH FUUUCK!!!!!!! and pls mark him. he’ll literally have a hissy fit if you don’t. he wants to look in the mirror the next morning and figure out how to make sure you refresh them later

zayne

flinches when you get hit. apologizes, either verbally or mentally, each time

vows to protect you the first time you die in-game

chronic overhealer 

has a shielder and healer on his team in boss fights. just in case. 

his damage suffers as a result. he either wins with seconds to spare or has to do multiple attempts

he’s actually underestimating his skills. if he weren’t so cautious trying to keep you safe, he’d clear all content with ease

does not care too much for outfits or skins—no, his weakness is animals. has to own any cute pet or animal companion the game offers. is not above the occasional credit card swipe 

sylus

whales on you

he gets you and your weapon maxed out. keeps pulling for you even after that to show off

has millions of the rarest currency in the game that nobody else ever has because of this

obliterates everything because he’s spent so much money. never loses 

half of the game’s community has him blocked because they’re tired of seeing him win

keeps posting his highlight reels anyway

if there’s a housing feature, you have a mansion

he’s actually really invested in the game’s lore and likes to experience the story you

rafayel

whales on your outfits/skins

doesn’t care too much about damage, fights based on aesthetics. what weapon looks best on you, what team members look best with you, etc. yes his main team is 4 single-target dpses

only really tries when you have a new upgrade coming out and he has to speedrun all the content he hasn’t cleared

sometimes logs on just to teleport you to pretty locations and take in-game pictures

uses the pictures he takes as references for paintings

defends your design with his life. doesn’t care how detailed the newest character is, they have nothing on you. you hear him? nothing. 

always logs out near the water and greets you there each day

caleb

self-destructive play style

torn between his love for you and his thrill-seeking nature 

will forego a healer or shielder if it gives him an edge in combat

you’re on 1 hp more times than he can count. he makes it up to you by farming endlessly for the best gear

you are the only character he has everything maxed out for. everybody else has a mid build

addicted to seeing the damage numbers pop up and doing all the little gear calculations and comparisons (“ohoho, if i use this instead, i’ll get a two percent damage boost”)

yes it’s that serious. 

valko

Almost immediately, the tension in the air dissipates. A quiet sigh of relief slips from the executive’s mouth as the biggest adversary he’s faced since college plagiarism checkers steps into the hall. 

Several paces from the closed oak door, Yvonne turns to face Zayne, wringing her hands out with nerves. “I’m sorry to pull you away, but there’s been an emergency,” she whispers. 

Zayne squints slightly, dark eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Dr. Greyson should be available right now. Is there a reason wh—” 

“Your partner, Dr. Li.” It’s a rare interruption. “She was just in an accident.” 

The stairs are a blur as he rushes down them two at a time. Still, it isn't fast enough. 

“What’s happened?” Zayne demands. “Tell me everything.”

Yvonne follows closely behind him, her clogs hitting the floor on the offbeats of his heavy steps. “It was a collision with another vehicle. The other driver had only minor injuries, but hers are more serious.”

“How serious?” Careening around the corner, he nearly plows through a gaggle of interns heading toward the fifth floor. 

Typically, the sight of calm, collected Dr. Li is enough to make the younger staff gape in wonder. But frantic, distressed Dr. Li? That’s a new concept entirely.

However, as Zayne flattens his body to pass by them without hindrance, their gawking goes even less noticed than usual.

“They can’t tell the extent of the damage,” Yvonne explains. “We tried to evaluate upon arrival, but she won’t accept treatment until she sees you. When I left the ER, she was thrashing around and calling out for you.” 

“She’s afraid of hospitals,” he responds robotically.

Just a few steps farther.

The searing burn in his legs reminds him of the hike he’d gone on with you just a few days earlier. The way he tripped on a well-camouflaged branch, and you caught him with an ill-concealed snicker. The way you paused under a maple tree to catch your breath after, oblivious to the bustling beehive ten feet above you. 

“EEEEEEgetitoffgetitoffgetitoffgetitoff!”

As you permanently damage the hearing of the bee on your tank top, a retaliatory snicker escapes Zayne’s lips.

“You think this is funny?” you screech, holding deathly still lest you provoke the beast on your shoulder. “I’ve never been stung before! What if I'm allergic?”

“All right, all right.” He cautiously waves the insect off with his hand, and it flies onto a nearby flower. “See? You’re safe now.” 

While you catch your breath, a dramatic hand plastered to your chest, he curls an arm around your lower back and guides you away from danger. 

At the base of the mountain, you’d stopped at an ice cream truck, gifting each other compensatory snow cones for your troubles.

That memory of you, smiling in the sun with sweat-slicked skin and blue-stained lips, won’t leave his mind. What kind of state were you in right now? Would you be able to go out like that, to laugh like that again? Would you want to?

A chill creeps through the sterile air as he finally reaches the bottom of the stairwell. With an anxious breath, he bursts through the ER doors, eyes scanning with urgency unknown.

Zayne is used to seeing people bloodied and bruised—too used to it, if you and his parents had anything to say about it. After years of stitching the broken back up again, he's grown desensitized to the most off-putting aspects of the human body. When he sees blood, he can’t afford to panic. He's got a job to do.

Now, at perhaps the one moment he can afford it the least, there's a delay in his actions. It’s immoral for him to think this way, and he'd never say it out loud, but it's not a patient who's hurt. It's not just anyone. It’s you.

You, who demoted lonely from a frequent feeling to a foreign one. You, who showed him, for the first time, how to love and be loved.

So when he sees you frenzied and bleeding, swatting at several nurses’ hands like a cornered stray making its last stand, he freezes. And in that moment, your eyes meet.

Your tired, broken whimper is what finally springs him into action. 

He rushes to your side, forcing the metallic tang of your blood a step down from salience. The nurses clear a path for him immediately. 

He tries to examine the extent of your injuries, but your attempts to cling to him make it difficult. More than once, he has to beg you to stay still. 

“It hurts,” you mewl, weakly clutching his left arm.

“I know. I know. But I need you to stay still for me, all right? Just while we figure out what's wrong.” So much blood. “Here, give me your hand.”

Your palms meet with identical iron grips. You squeeze him in pain and fear, he squeezes you in simmering panic—as well as to keep you still.

Needing to be heard but not wanting to startle you, he calls out his observations with the steadiest voice he can. “I see abrasions on the right temple and significant bruising on the upper body. The arm and shoulder lacerations will likely need staples.” 

Slowly, he lifts your lolling head to examine your unfocused eyes. “What’s your full name, and where are we right now?” 

“We’re in…” Through slurred words, you blink slowly, pausing to take in your surroundings. It’s like you’re seeing it all for the first time—the somber staff, the sobbing families, the lifeless bodies on the beds—and your face is the picture of panic. “Why…why are we here? I don’t want to be here. I want to go home.”

Zayne grimaces, shushing you and smoothing your hair down. “She may have a concussion as well.”

Your swollen face contorts in panic. “I have what?” 

“Shh. I’m sorry if this is uncomfortable,” he whispers. Gathering you in his arms, he rises to full height and nods swiftly to the surrounding staff. “I’m going to set her down slowly. Ensure the gurney is stable.”

Your sense of smell is the first to return to you. 

At home, you keep diffusers scattered throughout the space; it brightens your day when your favorite fragrance fills the room. 

Here—wherever here is—a piercing sterile scent burns the inside of your nose. 

Bleach and artificial lemon.

Something is wrong.

In your ears, the high-pitched hum of equipment.

On your tongue, the aftertaste of iron.

When you finally manage to crack your eyes open, blinding light forces them shut. You try again a moment later, gradually processing the thin blue gown hanging loosely on your sore frame.

It all comes flooding back. 

A sickening crash. A crushing impact. Flashing lights, loud voices.

Screeching sirens. Fragments of motion sickness.  An abrupt stop. 

A big, bright Akso sign. Shining like a beacon.

Not here. Not here. Not all alone.

Your own voice, crying out for Zayne. 

Zayne.

Where is he now?

The hospital bed groans under your thrashing body. It hurts, but it won’t be for long. He’s here somewhere, and if you can just get to him, he’ll make it better like he always does. 

Zayne. Zayne. Zayne. 

As soon as you manage to plant one foot on the ground, the door to your room swings open. 

When Zayne steps through, face weary and teal scrubs more ruffled than he’d usually allow, your body melts in relief. 

His dim hazel eyes lighten a bit when he sees that you're awake. Then, they zero in on your injured form hanging precariously off the bed. 

“Going somewhere?” His voice is flat, unamused. He crosses the room in four long strides, gently lifts your errant leg, and repositions you properly on the mattress. All the while, he expertly dodges your weakened attempts to pull him down with you. “You need to stay here. Movement can exacerbate your injuries.”

“Okay.” You swallow thickly, eyes brimming with unshed tears. This time, when you reach for him, he wraps you into his warm embrace. 

Zayne shifts to hold you as best he can, avoiding the wounds and gauze on your head, arms, and shoulders. In the silence, your breaths and heartbeats slowly start to sync.

Clutching his shirt in your fingers, you speak softly into his skin. “You weren’t here when I woke up.” It’s not an accusation, but more a lamentation.

“I’d planned to stay with you, but a patient needed an emergency operation not long after they brought you here. I was in surgery for the last five hours. I came as soon as I could.”

You start to nod into his shoulder, but he stills your head to limit your movement. Instead, you give him something between a hum and a grunt. 

“What happened?” he asks after a moment.

“I tried to take the interstate on my way to work. The one we used to practice since I was so scared of all the traffic here. But when I went to merge…I barely even saw the other car. I just remember the crash, and the ambulance, and I knew they were taking me here—I saw the sign—and I panicked. I haven’t been in the hospital since I was a kid. Every time they’d let me out of bed to walk around, there was a new family crying in the halls. I didn’t ever want to go back.” Your voice is hoarse by the time you finish—barely more than a whisper. Pulling back slightly, Zayne cracks open the bottle of water on the bedside table and holds it to your lips. You drink gratefully, wrapping both hands around his wrist.

Once you’re done, he leans in close and presses a kiss to your hair. “You’re very brave for trying that by yourself. But should something like this happen again, you can't delay getting treatment because of me. Let them help you.” 

“You know I don’t—I’ve never felt comfortable in places like this. There’s so much pain and grief here. I don’t know how you handle it.” Your throat constricts, and his hold on you tightens as wetness seeps into his shirt. “I was so scared.”

“I know. But I was, too. Not knowing what I was walking into, what kind of state you’d be in when I arrived…I was terrified.”

You bite your lip, discovering an undetected cut at the top. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Of course you didn’t. Just promise me that you'll always make your wellbeing a priority, whether or not I’m within reach.”

“I want to. But it’s hard,” you mumble. “You’re really responsible, you know. And kind. And nice. And smart. And—”

You’re ready to prattle on, but you cut the praise short once you spot his pink-tinged cheeks. “You’re a lot of good things,” you pivot. “Most of all, you make me feel safe. But…”

“But?” he echoes, threading a hand through your hair.

“I get anxious without you,” you admit. “When I’m with you, I feel like everything will be alright, but when I'm not…it feels like the world is ending sometimes. And I'm there in the thick of it, lost and alone.” Your self-deprecating laugh worsens the ache in your chest. “I just feel like I depend on you a lot. Maybe too much.” 

He’s quiet for a few beats, constructing his response with the utmost care. “You should be able to depend on me,” he begins softly. “That's my job as your partner. But you lived many years before we met. Your agency isn’t reliant upon my physical presence, though you may feel it is.” He clears his throat. “I’d never be opposed to spending every second by your side. But when I can’t, I hope you’ll still feel me right there with you. Cheering you on, supporting you. That’s when I feel most at home.

“I could never stray too far from the one I love. So, although I may not always be present, I’m in your heart, as well as your thoughts. Even if you have to ask yourself, ‘What would Zayne do?’ to find your way forward, I trust you can come to the right answer. He would do whatever he could to keep you safe and healthy.” 

If you weren’t certain he’d scold you for moving, you’d duck your head under your blanket in embarrassment. Instead, you simply whine and avert your gaze, heart fluttering at his words. 

“You understand, don’t you?” he coaxes. “Can you take care of yourself for me?”

You purse your lips, still clutching his scrubs tight despite his ask. When you answer, your voice wavers in uncertainty. 

“I’ll try.” 

For the first part of the afternoon, Zayne keeps you company. He reads to you from Yvonne’s romance novel, supervises while you switch between games on his phone, and opens the blinds so you can people-watch from the comfort of the seventh-floor window.

When boredom strikes, you put on a game show on the midsize TV, guessing most answers wrong while he gets them right. 

When a staff member brings you a snack, you urge Zayne onto the too-small bed with you and share a tapioca pudding cup, tactfully ignoring the healthy serving of carrots on the side.

Soothed by his warmth and steady heartbeat, you feel your eyelids grow heavy after a while. In his arms, the room’s oppressive white and whirring machinery become no more than a quelled threat. But when the shrill beep of his pager cuts through the quiet, your body goes rigid with fear forgotten.  

“There’s another operation soon. I'll have to leave in a moment.”

“A-Are you sure?” Your eyes widen in dismay. “Can’t Greyson—” 

Recalling your promise from earlier, you reel yourself in and take your bottom lip between your teeth. As you lower your head and prepare to apologize, Zayne cups your warming face in his hands. You nuzzle into him greedily. 

“Greyson has already done all he can. His selflessness this afternoon is the reason I’ve been able to stay with you for this long. I suppose I owe him a coffee for that.” He curves his lips upward slightly, hoping your frowning ones will follow. “On the bright side, it’s the last surgery of the day. I'll be back here to see you once it’s over.” 

“Okay,” you whisper. You know he hears your voice break. Even if he doesn’t, you can't blink fast enough to stop the first few drops from falling.

Regret quickly takes the place of his smile. His face contorts into a grimace as he racks his brain for a solution, eventually nodding to himself resolutely. “Wait just a moment, all right? I’ll be right back. There’s something I need to do.” He kisses your hair once more, then waits for you to nod your agreement. Then, he walks briskly out of the room. 

The temperature seems to plummet. 

You curl in on yourself as best you can, the last round of painkillers wearing off fast. But Zayne brings you a warmth that’s unreachable alone.

You try to wait for him, you really do. But maybe it’s a miracle that sleep tugs at you in a place like this. 

When you pry your heavy eyelids open, the sun is just beginning to set. You’re certain you were out cold whenever Zayne returned to your room earlier, and you can’t help but groan. From the looks of it, he’s still in surgery—no telling when he’ll be back to help you spend the night in your least favorite place. 

Desperate to pass the time, you start to reach for the TV remote, only to nudge something soft tucked into your side. Upon further inspection, you recognize the hospital’s gift shop logo stitched onto a black paw pad. 

Beside you is a grinning polar bear plush, a pair of lensless spectacles sitting on its short snout. On its blue bib sits a get well soon message; between its outstretched paws is a brief note. That paradoxically legible handwriting…you’d know it anywhere. 

I’m here with you always. Take care of yourself. 

kidnapper!caleb never wants to make you feel like a prisoner when he brings you to what he’s created for your semi-permanent stay.

yes, it’s true that he wouldn’t let you leave the space he single-handedly created for the two of you with meticulous intent. and yes, he’d be the only one giving you all your wants and necessities without any contact from the outside world. in time, he'd be open to discussions for that to change.

but despite being the one with all the power, he was under your control.

he made that clear the moment you opened your pretty eyes and registered your new reality. seeing how you cursed at him as you thrashed on the bed against your restraints and how you brazenly demanded answers behind barely shed tears was enough to make his dick twitch in his pants. right then he wanted you to have him, to jump up and do whatever you wanted to do if it made you feel good.

“i’ve waited… so long… to have you like this,” he whispered with a disturbing tone that was still laced with twisted love and awe. your jaw and body tensed as he used his fingers to carefully trace your cheekbone and the outline of the defiant pout on your lips. he didn’t like that, but he understood. love always had its ups and downs. “you’re not scared of me, right pipsqueak? 'cause you shouldn’t be. i did this for us. i promised i would, don’t you remember?”

his smile barely reached his eyes as he watched the rapid rise and fall of your chest. while you lay helplessly on an unfamiliar bed that you couldn’t deny the comfort of with hazy confusion, all caleb wanted to do was suckle on your nipples and bury himself inside you until there was no more space in between.

soon. he knew you’d let him soon.

you never let your gaze deter from his movements as he reached for the thick chains around your wrists and ankles keeping you shackled to the bed, unlocking and unraveling them and leaning down until the tips of your noses barely touch. it was bold of him, to remain so close with you being freed. perhaps it was that sickening confidence.

“we have to trust each other, right? it’s a two-way street.” how could this still be your caleb? the one who vowed to protect you. the one who swore he’d do anything to make you happy. “but don’t forget who i am or what i’m capable of, pips. you of all people should know that i work hard to get what i want and i’ll go even harder to keep it.”

kidnapper!caleb is an excellent liar and an even better actor. while he keeps you on lockdown in a discreet location that's miles upon miles away and is something only he knows of and has access to, he’s out there with the people in your life who are desperately searching for you while convincing them that he’s just as distraught and at a loss.

he had the perfect alibis in place despite being the only person to have seen you last and even knew how to make his voice hoarse and crack at just the right times when he was brought in for questioning. with fake smiles and words of encouragement, he’d console your parents and delirious friends as he falsely promised to do everything he could to bring you home to them.

there was never a day that he missed as he aided in their useless search. he was there when everyone got together for an orchestrated community search, hating to leave you alone at night to attend but couldn’t help but to test the daring waters over and over again.

the fake tears and blatant lying were almost addicting. orchestrating it all while being the cause was a high he’d ride until they finally let you go. they had no choice but to.

kidnapper!caleb loved getting to watch you drop your guard and succumb to him in real time. it wasn’t just because it’s always been what he’s wanted, but because it was all being done by your somewhat free will, although you continuously swore you’d never be what he wanted.

but he knew you, better than you knew yourself. you may be the one capable of moving the chess pieces, but it was still and would always be his game.

days turned to weeks and weeks trickled slowly into months before you began to mindlessly initiate conversations as if under normal circumstances, before you’d ask him for things on your own accord or to stay with you and watch movies instead of sitting and watching you do your own thing from afar.

what was once fear and anger became comfort, familiarity, and an odd sense of longing.

perhaps it began when you would notice how he’d restrain from touching you the way he so clearly wanted to and used his eyes to do what he didn’t let his hands.

maybe it was from all the nights where he’d curl up in that big bed beside you despite your protests and hold you close with his cock nestled against your ass through thin articles of clothing. or when he’d take your dirty clothes and shamelessly sniff your panties in front of you before tucking one into his pocket and washing the rest.

regardless of what it is, you couldn’t explain why you never fought back. or why your panties we’re always left damp whenever he’d do things like lightly caressing your inner thigh the way he was now as he sat beside you and watched the news.

or why you don’t stop him when he let his hands go further than usual until his fingers find their way inside your shorts.

kidnapper!caleb knows that he won’t be able to savor you like he thought he would the first time he got to feel you. he figured he’d slowly rub your clit until your world shattered and you came on his fingers as he slipped one or two inside you to see what it felt like when your cunt got greedy.

he thought maybe he’d be okay with just playing with your pussy and feeling your slick make a mess on the hand of the man you vowed to hate for the rest of your life since your first day in your new normal.

but then you reached over, almost as if in a trance fueled by uncontrollable lust, and palmed his cock through his sweats with bated breath and sorrowful eyes that seemingly begged for him to stop you before it went too far.

if caleb were a selfless man, you wouldn’t be here.

instead, he guided you to stand in front of him on trembling legs and looked up at you with violet pools brimming with pride. he pressed a kiss to your stomach and brought you closer with his palms engrossing themselves in the plush softness of your outer thighs.

“take them off,” he said lowly in a way both demanding and pleading, tugging on the bottom end of your shorts. naturally, you hesitated, your features telling him every single emotion that takes over your mind where your mouth is incapable. “don’t act like you don’t want it. i’ve let you get away with lyin’ to me for all this time. i think i’ve more than earned this, wouldn’t you say?”

kidnapper!caleb makes you take the lead when you finally settle yourself in his lap. from releasing his dick from its confines, positioning him at your embarrassingly soaked hole, and burying your face in his neck as your pussy swallowed each girthy inch, immediately you knew that you’d made a terrible mistake.

but you just couldn’t stop yourself. it's like you could feel him in your guts, could feel every pulsing vein kissing your tightening walls. the sensation of being so full of your once best friend turned captor was sickeningly intense and yet, you couldn’t—no, you didn’t want it to be taken away.

you couldn’t look him in the eyes as you used his body like he told you to do in between shaky mewls, tears spilling from both inebriating pleasure and unbridled anger at yourself for the uncontrolled moans that spilled when he guided your sloppy movements by your hips from being so emotional and conflicted.

“you feel how well we fit?” he coos in your ear as you rock your hips to feel him reach even deeper. he slides in and out of you with so much ease that it makes your stomach flip and your body ache for so much more. it makes you disappointed in yourself for being so willing. “i would—hah, fuck—say sorry, for letting it go this far, pips… but ‘m not. and i’ll never be. i just hope you’ll learn to love me the same way i love you. i’ll still love you… even if you don’t.”

“i h-hate you,” you mumble through your uncontainable moans, gripping the hair at the nape of his neck to hold him closer as the burning in your thighs drive you to chase your high even faster. “you took everyone—everything, away f-from me… you ruined my life, caleb… i hate you s-so much…”

“if you weren’t such a liar…” he nips and licks beneath your ear, never interrupting the fluidity of his thrusts that force a sensational tingle down your spine. “that would’ve reaaally hurt me.”

you refused to acknowledge the somewhat truth in his statement. absolutely refused.

the rush of his cum suddenly spilling into you and your orgasm knocking the breath from your lungs claims your attention instead. caleb pumps it all inside of you, leaving a sticky mess that leaks from being overfilled and clings filthily to where you remain connected.

“… search still ongoing for the sudden disappearance of a local woman. if you have any information, please contact your local law enforcement or the hotline displayed on your screen. for more details….”

“oh look,” caleb hums, sitting you up and grabbing you gently by the underside of your jaw to make you face the tv. “that’s the picture i told your mom to use. pretty, isn’t it? ‘s one of my favorites.”

you really were stuck with him. and you hated yourself for not knowing if you despised the idea as much as you know you should.

a/n: if you hate this or think it's utter ass like i do, LITERALLYYYY DON'T TELL ME!!!!!

each time his dick dragged along you tight walls and his dewy flesh rhythmically slapped against yours, internally, he begged for the building manager to take his sweet time in getting the problem fixed.

“oh, honey,” he breathed, burying his face in the side of your neck as his hips never faltered in their mind numbing pace. “you’re burnin’ up. that’s no good, is it?”

he licks a trail all the way from the side of your neck to the smallest bit of sweat above your upper lip. his breath against your face and the lingering feeling of his saliva relieves you in the most unexpected sense, briefly cooling you down before the sensation of him pounding you into the mattress shocks your nerves and overheats your body all over again.

you’ve never been this soaked in your life. the dampness coating your flesh and the arousal caleb was effortlessly intensifying had you on the verge of a heat stroke. you were being suffocated by the addicting weight of him on top of you and the heaviness of the heat and smell of sex that took over the bedroom.

how you got here in the first place was even more of a mystery, seeing as you couldn’t imagine agreeing to let him have you like this in such uncomfortable conditions. but being a sucker for caleb xia has always been an easy thing to do and needing him to fuck you harder despite your blatant discomfort was more than enough to prove so true.

you hang onto him like your life depended on it, ignoring the tacky film that glazed over his bulging muscles and golden skin to let it collide with your own.

“r-right there, caleb… baby, please,” you beg sheepishly through the softest mewl, back slightly arching off the sheets and fingernails digging into his broad shoulders. the obscene squelches from your connected bodies and how deep he reaches nearly sends you into complete delirium. “if you k-keep… mmhph…”

his quick and shallow breaths against your ear accompanied by the deep and shuddering moans were more than enough to complete turn you into a puddle.

“i feel it… hold me tighter, pips. fuck, ‘m so close, ‘m so close…”

the second your arms wrapped firmly around his neck, one of his did the same around your waist as he hoisted and angled you just right to make sure you took every drop of his cum when he gave it to you.

his thrusts were consistent and nauseating in a way that left you addicted, choked sobs spilling from between your lips, and the temperature of your body steadily increasing the closer you got.

“so pretty like this,” he cooed, leaving sloppy open-mouthed kisses along your jaw. “juuust like that, yeah? f-fuck… fuck pips, ‘m gonna—”

with complete trust in his strength, you held onto him tightly as he kept you secure in his unrelenting embrace. thick ropes of his cum spilled into you faster than you could comprehend your own blinding orgasm that made black spots briefly drift across your hazy vision.

his bare chest heaved against your own before he gently laid you down to chase after you for a much needed kiss. it made you smile when his tongue eagerly slipped into your mouth and how you could still feel his cock twitching with greed inside of you.

“you’re sweatin’ bullets,” he chuckled, using the palms of his hands to get rid of the sweat from your hairline. you purse your lips and swipe your thumb along the hair sticking to his glistening forehead. “but guess i can’t talk, huh?”

“i need a shower, ‘leb. desperately.”

“we do.” goosebumps dot along your body when he presses his lips to the tip of your nose. “a cold shower and some ice cream sound like a plan?”

you nod, not caring how ridiculous you look and sound with such flushed skin and a partially hoarse voice. “a great one.”

a/n: this is so fucking terrible and is pure slopppop sdjakakfa but i haven’t written in months… it’s gonna be hot again soon… this came to me out of nowhere… two hours later… here we are…. why not… okay, byyeeee!!!