#CALEB PLEASE

[sylebs]

"I never hear you say you miss me."

[smallmightsupremacy]

I'm cackling at how he switches from speaking like an academic scholar to a 13 year old gamer just like that 😭😭

[wh1msic4lwasab1]

caleb angst hurts so bad to consume but i can’t STOPPPP ITS TOO GOOD💔💔💔

[anona1-mous]

‼️cw: blood, horror art

"out of all the grimwalkers, you looked the most like him."

[calebxia]

i can’t beat this fucking battle please i need to see caleb immediately 😭

[berrryparfait]

lick my conch ! 𓆝⋆.˚ 𓇼

— ༉‧₊ᐟ featuring: sylus, caleb, rafayel, zayne, xavier x fem-afab!reader

— ༉‧₊ᐟ premise: "beach day", or so he said. little do you know that he's about to eat you out to the point of tears! 「i can't take this anymore... his tongue—!」

— ༉‧₊ᐟ tags/cws: [nsfw] pure smut, cunnilingus on the beach, squirting, cl*t stimulation, intense orgasms, semi-public, dubcon on reader's part

— ♫₊ᐟ soundtrack: cherry – lana del rey

✧ a/n: reader singlehandedly spawned another ocean with her c*m and that's okay! #peaceandlove happy reading! <3

“The beach is quiet today, sweetie.” Sylus rests a calloused hand on your thigh, the warmth of his touch surprising you. “Uhuh…” You don’t quite know where he’s going with this. Looking around, there’s not a single person in sight, but you can hear voices coming from somewhere behind the giant beachrock you’ve been leaning against. You eye him suspiciously as his hand travels further up your thigh, a familiar glint in his eye that tells you you’re in deep, deep trouble. “Relax. no one can see or hear us.” Not here, Sylus!—you want to yell at him, but the pad of his thumb on your clit effectively silences you. He massages you gently through the thin fabric before pulling your thong to the side, your pussy already moist with arousal. “Well, look what we have here…” he muses, positioning his face between your legs and admiring your wet folds. “We’re in public—“ you begin, stopping short when his tongue pokes out to tease your clit. “Mmpfh—“ You try your best to suppress your moans, but he’s lapping at your cunt now, eagerly as a man starved. “Fuck, kitten—you taste so good…” He licks and sucks at your needy pussy, every inch of you begging for his attention despite the fact that you’re quite literally committing a felony right now. The thought flies right over your head, your entire being consumed by the quick, wet movements of his lips and tongue against your sensitive heat. As you feel your pleasure spiking, you grab his semi-wet hair and arch your back, attempting and failing to muffle your moans as you cum all over his mouth, the sensation crashing over you so hard you see stars. He smirks at you annoyingly while you writhe in pleasure, taking in the beautiful beach scenery that is now you. “Return the favor for me, will you, darling?”

Perfect weather, perfect day. The cool breeze brushes against your skin as you sip from your glass, the sour sweetness of the sparkling mojito dancing on your tongue. "This is so good," you remark, carelessly tipping the glass towards you and spilling a bit on your bare stomach. Caleb looks down at the mess you've made and tuts, as if wholly unsurprised. "She strikes again. Good thing I've got a way to clean that up." He brings his head down to your navel, then begins trailing small kisses down your stomach, cleaning the sweet liquid off your skin as he goes. When he reaches the waistline of your bikini bottoms, a lopsided smile twists his lips. "Caleb, we're out in the open right now—" you protest, but he pulls them to the side and begins licking at your folds anyway. You whine in surprise, frantically looking around the beach for signs of other people. His tongue is on your clit now, caressing your core with slow, languid movements at make your toes curl and knees buck. "You're wet for me, Pips..." he groans as your arousal coats his tongue and drives him wild. The friction between his mouth and your cunt is overwhelming, and you rock against his face out of your volition. "Ugh... Ahh—!" Propping yourself up with your elbows, the rough sand digging into your skin while you're consumed by the euphoric feeling that is Caleb's tongue between your folds, you hear footsteps approaching in your direction. "Quick, come for me, baby—" A wave crashes in the distance, mimicking your climax. You shake with pleasure as the orgasm hits you, squirting in Caleb's face as he massages your trembling thighs. "Quite the clean-up job, if I do say so myself."

"The water's so peaceful today," you muse, leaning your head on Rafayel's shoulder. "It might be a sign," he replies, the cryptic answer puzzling you. He chuckles at your quirked eyebrow, then shrugs. "All I'm saying is that we wouldn't want the calm tide to go to waste." Before you can make sense of what he's trying to say, he grabs you by the waist and hoists you up over his shoulder, balancing your weight with one hand. "Put me down, Raf! What are you—" With a splash, he tosses you into the water, jumping in right after. Treading, you look around, but can't see him anywhere. A pair of hands grips your thighs, and you gasp in shock, wondering if you should be fearing for your life right now. But the way the waves instantly calm, the way the sea suddenly looks bluer—you know it's him. He gently pulls your legs apart, and you instinctively search the shoreline for watchful eyes. Thankfully, there are none—for now. He pulls your swimsuit bottom down and in a split second his mouth is there, planting soft kisses on your clit. You bite your lip and rest your legs on his shoulders, unsure of what else to do. His tongue laps at your cunt, which has now grown wet independent of the seawater all around you. You can't hear him, but you can feel him groaning against your pussy, the warm vibrations buzzing through every nerve in your body and drenching you in ecstasy. "Ahh—ahh..." you moan out loud, hoping no one on land is able to see or hear your lewd expressions. A stronger wave sways you then, and his tongue hits your g-spot at just the right moment. You come undone with his mouth around your heat, crying out as your shake uncontrollably with nothing to grab on to but his hair. You can feel his dirty grin between your legs. He rises to the surface, face flushed and eyes heavy-lidded. "I may be a sea god, but I do love drowning."

You both decided to embark on this beach getaway to get your minds off work—something the two of you are pretty much constantly drowning in. Despite your dedication to the task, it's to ignore the fact that your inbox hasn't been checked in hours... "Zayne, maybe we should check our emails. Just the emails! I hate the thought of missing something important..." He smooths a hand over your arm. "We both assigned perfectly capable stand-ins, remember? Try your best to relax now that we're here." He pauses then, thinking. "I may have something in mind that could help. It's common knowledge that reaching orgasm is incredibly effective for relieving stress." You gape at him. "Reaching what now?" He smiles at you, gently, then gets on his knees before you can stop him. "Zayne! We're in a public space!" He ignores your feeble protests and spreads your thighs apart. The next thing you know, his mouth is on your bare pussy and you can think of nothing else. He starts off slow, worshipping your cunt with smooth, unhurried strokes. But it isn't long before he responds to your sweet verbal sounds, picking up the pace as if knowing exactly what you need. His lips firmly latch onto the area around your clit while his tongue straight up abuses the swollen nub, flicking it with such unrelenting speed that you cry out for mercy. "Fuck— Zayne—!" You clamp your thighs around his face, squeezing hard. Back arched and feet curled, your mind is no longer on emails, that's for sure. "Fuck, fuck—!" you wail before the orgasm hits you and you cum all over his mouth, squirting warm, transparent liquid onto his glasses and down his throat. He massages your pussy for a while longer, drawing out your climax as you spasm around his fingers. "There, better?"

"I like this one." He points to a baby blue seashell by your foot, eyeing it curiously. You laugh, trying your best to ignore the wetness pooling between your legs. You've been horny for the past hour, but don't want to say anything to ruin the innocence of your date. "You're ovulating, aren't you?" he asks, waking you from your stupor. "How did you know?" He grins sheepishly, then mutters something about how he always knows. "It's not a big deal, you know, me being like this. We don't have to do anything. I'm happy just sitting here with you—" "Ride my face." It sounds more like a command than a suggestion, and you waste no time following his orders. Making sure there's no one around, you slide your one-piece bathing suit off and position yourself right above his face, where his mouth is already open and waiting. "Fuck, you're so wet..." He grabs your thighs and pulls you down onto him, and the feeling of your cunt settling onto his lips is heavenly. You begin to rock against his tongue to a steady rhythm, waves of pleasure filling your body as your clit rubs on his chin and nose. "Mmmpfh..." he sighs into your pussy, prompting you to fuck his face harder and faster than before. You grab a fistful of his hair and jerk your hips against his mouth, the both of you grunting with every thrust as the pressure builds and builds deep in your core. "Yes—right there, right there—!" you scream as his tongue hits that sweet spot, sending your heart into orbit. It's as if your hips have a mind of their own as you hump his mouth, the wet suction noises intensifying— You burst all over his face, squirt and cum leaking out of your pussy in violent spurts that he promptly licks up. Panting, you slump onto the sand and fall into an exhausted, satisfied heap. "Back to counting seashells, are we?"

— ⋆˙⟡ ©berrryparfait

《 please do not copy / plagiarize / translate my works or publish them on any other platforms. 》

[amriedrws]

welcome home caleb

bonus:

[yudol-skorbi]

i am at the point where if i dont finish now i'll newer finish so yeah the rest of the gaaaaaang

[brookesmartt]

I think they deserve a bit of tenderness. As a treat.

[kira-loves0905]

lads x reader! [mentions of death] [can be seperate or together...?]

it was another day of gathering intel from him. the knob swiftly opens for you to paddle inside the cage the Praedator was in. he was sat on his usual place, body language high and mighty. the smirk drawling on his lips as he sees your figure walking towards him. but then, the expression falls, eyes zoning on the tell-tale purple bruise on your waist— courtesy of your rather revealing outfit.

"who hurt you?"

he growls, clenching his fists. your steps faltering at the sudden aura he emanates.

"I believe that is none of your issue-"

"it is, you see." he interjects before you could finish. "I'll repeat my question, darling. who?"

he mostly didn't mind the chains that bounded him on this interrogation chair. in fact, he barely wastes his strength on fighting against it: his posture always relaxed.

but seeing that bruise triggers something within his insanity. he doesn't know why he feels like it, the urge was strong to pull you towards him. to caress the taint mark that someone must've left on your skin.

you see the way he now strains against the chair. his muscles taut and veiny, gritting his teeth at how you just stood there. as if that injury was nothing for you, but to him it felt as if the world was already ending.

why is that? why did he feel the urge to do so?

"it's.. another Praedator." you forced a reply, or else the scientists in the facility might make another metal chair modified for his strength with how he's tugging all his might, "it was just careless of me. so I ought to not approach people like you too close for today."

"..w..what?"

left dumbfounded on your revelation, the straining stops.

"indeed," you nod a tad awkwardly at his odd expression. standing a few feet away, you brought out your materials needed to interrogate him. "let's start."

as the intel goes on, you were perplexed at his sudden compliance. he would've dumped all the information he has if it wasn't for the shred of pride he has left. heck, you hadn't even use much of the devices you brought.

shaking his behaviour as part of his... symptoms. you packed up your things, your movements careful and meticulous to avoid aggravating your injury any longer.

turning around to the door, you winced slightly at the inevitable ache. about to leave and treat the wound when..

"princess." he beckons your attention, "i've given you intel. yet you still insist not telling me who left that mark. least you could do was return a favor.. hm?"

"it was... that burly man down the hall," you said vaguely, heeding no mind. might as well entertain him, right? if it makes him obey and give more information then you don't mind.

oh how wrong you were.

the next day, there was an uproar of a sudden dead Praedator. no one knows who had done it. the execution flawless with no strings left behind. but the smirking man you've known for a while, with chains suspiciously broken only seen up close may know a thing or two..

[kiiseru]

Closer

[lilisettean]

Between Silken Sheets | Headcanons

About: How are they like when they are underneath the bed sheets with you? Random assortment of steamy headcanons.

Pairings: Xavier/Reader, Zayne/Reader, Rafayel/Reader + Bonus! Caleb/Reader

Warnings: First times, Inappropriate use of Evol (Xavier, Zayne, Caleb), No protection (Caleb), please tell me if I'm missing anything! 18+ Only please. Enjoy :)

Xavier

Timid at first, his fingers tracing your form as though convincing himself that this, that you are right before him naked, was a dream.

He isn't very experienced, if at all. But he is eager to learn all you're willing to teach him, and is a fast learner. He memorizes all your sweet spots instantly, and is quite the explorer, wanting to find more of them.

Skilled hands with thick long fingers, deft at prodding your soft spot. Combined with his observant nature, he immediately would pick up on the slight change of your pitch as you moan, mentally filing that spot he just hit into places that would drive you crazy.

His usual aloof expression is nowhere to be found, replaced with the intense focus that he reserves for missions. But instead of Wanderers being his prey, you are.

Being a hunter that is always on the move, he is always in tip top shape. His stamina is nothing to scoff about, being able to go round after round late into the night as long as you are willing.

With experience, he grows bolder and would initiate more often. His hands wandering wherever he could reach when you cuddle with him on the sofa.

He would also be more teasing, turning you into a whimpering mess before pulling away to admire his handiwork.

While not said... Imagine if his light Evol felt like it's vibrating with energy. Him creating a tiny ball of light Evol and having it stuck onto your clit before pulling away, stroking his stiff cock while watching you squirm and plead underneath him.

"You're not the only one who knows how to tease, you know." "This is payback for earlier. If you want me to continue.... Beg me."

Zayne

He had seen and touched your naked form more times than you can count. He is your primary healthcare physician after all. He had kept all those times professional as expected. So when you are in front of him, naked under an entirely different context... He froze.

It wasn't from fear, but rather from enthrallment. It was only then he realized how attracted he is to you, his eyes unable to focus on anything else but you.

Being a doctor at one of the busiest, if not the busiest, hospitals, he never had time for intimacy, much less relationships. No one had caught his eye anyway, until you came back into his life. So while inexperienced, he isn't ignorant. He knows where to touch you to make you crumble and into an incoherent mess.

He handles you like you were spun from glass at first, but with time, his touch grows rougher, leaving indents and marks on your skin as he fucks you, his pace relentless.

His cold facade is gone whenever you two are alone together. And with you underneath him, praises and filthy promises easily spill out of his mouth. Praising you for being so good to him, for taking his cock so well.

He is very cautious about his ice Evol, but imagine. His ice cold fingers thumbing over your nipples while you're blindfolded, and the next second he envelops your pert nipple in his mouth, his tongue swirling around it. It takes some time for you to convince him to use his powers this way, but once he starts, oh is he addicted.

"Nnh- You're feel so good around me..." "Relax. Tell me if it's too cold, okay? ...Good girl."

Rafayel

Being a painter, Rafayel had have many models pose naked for him before. He should have more control when it comes to you being naked for him, right? Wrong.

You offered to pose for him naked but he always denies, because he knows he wouldn't be able to focus at all. He would end up studying your body more, on what he would like to do to you, instead of what themes he want to bring out of this piece.

It's one thing to study you from afar, but it's another to have you on his lap. His face is red as it could be, his eyes on anywhere, anything, but on you. You would have to take the lead at first, his breath hitching and his heart jumping out of his throat the moment you grabbed his hands and placed them on your body.

Rafayel was not new to sex, he had plenty of offers before. But he refused them all. As curious as he was to whether sex will inspire him to create art, the act was too intimate for him to indulge. But you are different.

Your touches lit a fire under his skin, his inspiration rearing to go with every kiss. And suddenly he understood why many artists cite their lover as their muse.

As he got more comfortable with touching you, his desire to pin you to the wall like a painting grows. To immortalize your every expression and arch of your back into art.

He would treat your body as a canvas, leaving kisses and bite marks all over your skin as he buries himself deep within you, and admire his work afterwards.

Sometimes he likes it when he is in control, but other times, when things get too stressful, he prefers when you take charge. Just like you sometimes begging him to stop staring and just fuck you already, he would also sometimes plead to you to let him fuck you as he thrusted against your heat.

"Please- Mmh- Please let me fuck you-" "I want you now... Please have mercy on me..."

Caleb

Caleb had forgotten when he had started to see you as someone more than a friend. He was pretty sure it had been during high school, and when you had no outward sign of liking him back, he resigned himself to a fate of unrequited love.

His expectations were subverted however, and he thanked whatever God was out there for hearing his prayers.

His touch was gentle, reverent. As though still in disbelief that you returned his feelings and would let him touch you in ways that would drive both of you mad with want.

He would leave kisses all over your body, worshiping you and praising you all the way as he made his way down to your heat. Your moans were music to his ears, and he couldn't help but undo his belt buckle and stroke himself as his tongue lapped up all the juices flowing out of you.

He had dreamt about you more times than he could count, his cock always stiff and yearning for you the next morning. So when this fantasy of his finally came true and you were underneath him, squirming and clenching around him, he lost it.

It was embarrassing that he came inside you so quickly, but can you blame him? He had wanted you for so, so long. And now that he finally has you, he just can't help it.

You don't have to worry though. Despite having came moments prior, his cock was still hard and twitching, ready to pick up where he had left off.

You never really knew what his Evol was exactly, all you knew was that he could levitate things. He had used this against you many times, but now... Well. Sometimes he would use it to lift your skirt up. And sometimes... He would lift you up into the air and hold you there, rendering you unable to move and fight back against his teasing fingers.

"Looks like you can't move now, yeah?" "You know I won't let you down... Not until you come on my fingers first."

[jane-the-good]

CALEB: nightly rendezvous

WORD COUNT: 3.7K

SUMMARY: You and Caleb open a box of momentos together. It reminds you both how valuable your memories are.

NOTE: I’d like to note that I wrote this before I got the deceptive solitude card. I am actually a psychic and a witch, so yeah 😌🔮

WARNING: it’s like 69% smut, unprotected sex, fingering, angst, Caleb loves to praise

AO3 caleb masterlist

I also made a CALEB sweater if that’s your thing ♡

The door clicks shut behind you with a familiar, unhurried ease, as soon as you step in to Caleb’s apartment. The warmth of the space meets you in a sigh, slipping over your skin and settling. The day’s travel cling faintly to your limbs—a dull ache in your calves, the slight stiffness in your shoulders—but here, you feel lighter. Safe. The city hums beyond the windows, its neon sprawl muted by rain-slick glass. Out there, the world is sharp with angles and noise. In here, the edges soften.

Caleb shrugs off his coat with an absent motion, sending a glance your way. His eyes, heavy-lidded from the long day, still catch the light with a quiet warmth—the easy familiarity of someone who has seen you weary and half-wild, and stayed.

You stretch, slowly, the movement pulling tension from your back. With a low sigh, you toe off your boots by the door. "I’m so ready to crash," you murmur, rubbing at the knot in your neck with tired fingers.

Caleb’s mouth quirks faintly, the ghost of a grin as he steps toward the bedroom. "Yeah." His voice is low, rougher at the edges, like he hasn’t spoken in hours.

You follow him down the narrow hallway, the floorboards creaking softly beneath your steps—a sound that belongs to lived-in spaces. The room is dimly lit, the amber glow from the bedside lamp spilling over the dark walls in uneven patches. Shadows stretch long and lean across the ceiling, pooling in the corners. You shrug off your jacket, the fabric slipping easily from your shoulders, and toss it over the chair in the corner. With a sigh, you sink onto the edge of the bed, fingers working the buckle of your belt. The scent of him lingers in the air—clean, familiar, a little nostalgic—it sinks into everything around it, the blankets and the collar of your shirt.

A box, plain and unassuming, sits near the dresser, half-tucked against the wall. You wouldn’t have thought much of it—just another thing left out of place—except you know this box. You saw it once, back when the investigation was still open. When he was still presumed gone.

Your hands still, fingers slipping from the leather of your belt. The breath catches in your throat, sharp and sudden, as if the room has drawn in too close around you.

“You have this?" you ask softly, nodding toward the box.

Caleb’s fingers pause on the hem of his shirt. He glances over his shoulder, following your gaze. For a beat, he doesn’t say anything. Then he exhales quietly, walking over to it. His movements are slow, almost tentative, as though approaching the box might make it vanish.

He crouches beside it, brushing his fingers along the lid. The touch is light, almost reverent. "Yeah," he says, barely above a murmur. "They…sent it back after everything was cleared." His voice is quiet but steady, though there’s a fragile edge to it. He’s holding something back. His fingers linger on the corner of the lid, but he doesn’t lift it. Instead, he glances at you, his eyes soft with something vulnerable.

He stops, wetting his lips briefly, then meets your gaze. His voice dips lower, more careful now. "I didn’t want to open it with out you."

The admission hangs between you, gentle and raw. Your chest tightens with something warm. Without a word, you move to the floor beside him, knees brushing. The faint warmth of his skin against yours steadies you both.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The silence presses close—not heavy, but dense. The room itself is holding its breath. The walls seem nearer somehow, the dimness deeper. The amber light catches faintly in Caleb’s eyes, but his expression stays unreadable, carefully still.

When he finally peels the lid off, his hands are slow, deliberate. Fingers steady but unhurried, as if each movement is an acknowledgment—of the weight in the box, of the time it spent missing. The cardboard gives a faint creak, the sound small and splintering in the quiet. And then it’s open.

The contents are unremarkable at first glance—just a collection of objects—but you know better. They are fragments. Keepsakes of a life once presumed lost. The edges of old photographs, corners softened with age. A silver lighter, worn smooth from use. A cracked leather watch strap, still knotted at the last size he wore it. The pieces of him that remained, even when he didn’t.

At the top of the pile is a battered tin box, the edges slightly dented. Caleb’s lips curve faintly. "My first rock collection," he mutters, flipping it open. His fingers brush over the small stones inside, some still scratched with the childish initials you both once carved into them.

You laugh softly, leaning into his side. "You used to insist they were ‘rare geological specimens.’ Even though we found them next to the school parking lot."

He huffs a quiet chuckle. "They were rare to me."

He sets the tin aside and pulls out a faded photo, edges fraying slightly. The two of you are in it, maybe ten or eleven years old, perched on the hood of a rusted old car at the edge of town. Your legs are dangling over the bumper, his arm slung over your shoulders because he never wanted to let go. You squint at the sun in the photo, laughing mid-blink.

"God," you whisper, brushing your thumb over the worn image. "We were just kids."

Caleb’s voice lowers, almost as if he’s speaking to himself. "I remember thinking back then… I always want be able to make you laugh like that."

You glance up at him, heart catching at the tenderness in his eyes.

There are more trinkets—a worn pocketknife he swore made him invincible at fifteen, a concert ticket from the first time you ever snuck out together, and a leather bracelet you gave him one summer, back when you were still figuring out how to say you cared without saying it.

His fingers linger over the bracelet. "You made this," he murmurs, voice nearly too soft to hear.

"Yeah," you reply, your throat tight. "You never took it off."

He exhales slowly, turning it over in his fingers. “It’s too small now," he says, voice rougher. "Even when I couldn’t wear it, I still wanted it with me.”

Your chest pulls tight, a knot of breath caught somewhere it shouldn’t be. You blink hard, but it doesn’t soften the sudden burn in your throat. The bracelet sits in Caleb’s palm, smaller than you remember. Once, it fit him perfectly—clung to his wrist with easy familiarity. Now, it looks almost fragile against his hand, a delicate thing. A reminder of how much he’s grown. Of how much you both have.

Your gaze drifts to his arm. If he were wearing it now, and how he wouldn’t feel it. The thought twists low in your stomach, sharp and quiet.

You reach over, slow and steady, and brush your fingers over his hand, closing it gently around the bracelet. His breath falters—just slightly—but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he shifts, his fingers slipping between yours, threading them together. His grip is firm, almost unyielding. Afraid that if he lets go, the moment might fracture. Holding on to you is the only thing keeping him tethered.

His eyes meet yours, and the weight of everything hits you both all at once. The years. The grief. The countless moments of holding on when it would have been easier to let go. And still—here you are. Still steady, still the same.

"You were always the one," you murmur, voice almost trembling. "The one who kept me steady, even when you were barely holding on."

He shakes his head slightly, his fingers tightening around yours. "No," he says softly. "You kept me going. You were always my reason."

Your breath catches. The words hang there, heavy and certain. And when he leans in, there’s no hesitation. No room for second thoughts. His lips meet yours, slow at first—a quiet, steady thing. But then he shifts, cupping your jaw, and something deeper flickers through the kiss. It grows more urgent, more searching. His hand slides along your waist, tugging you closer, and you go willingly. His warmth seeps into your skin, chasing away the ache that’s been sitting within you.

You tilt into him, fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer. His breath catches slightly when you tug, and he answers with a low sound, deepening the kiss. His hands splay against your back, holding you flush against him. It’s familiar but heavier somehow—like trying to remember how to breathe again after holding it in for too long.

When you finally break apart, your forehead rests against his, both of you a little breathless. His thumb brushes along your cheek, lingering as though afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

"Still the same," he murmurs softly, voice barely above a breath. "Still my person."

You smile faintly, closing your eyes and pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth. "And you’re still mine.”

The rough carpet scratches against your knees, but you hardly notice. Neither of you do. Not when Caleb is pressed against you, his hands dragging slow and deliberate over your skin. The dim light from the dark sky spills through his floor-to-ceiling windows, the endless stretch of clouds below before you’re floating somewhere between the stars. The entire city of Skyhaven hums faintly below.

His fingers trace along your back, dragging slow circles over your skin, dipping lower, lower. You shiver beneath his touch, your breath catching when he cups your ass, his grip firm, possessive. His mouth trails along your jaw, warm and damp, lips parting just slightly as his teeth graze your skin. You gasp, your head falling back as he nips at your throat, the sharpness of it making you squirm.

“I thought you were so exhausted?" he murmurs, his voice low and rough against your neck.

You blink, dazed. "Hm?"

He exhales a soft chuckle against your skin. “You were begging to come home"

You arch into him, your fingers curling into his shirt, searching for anything to ground yourself. His mouth finds the shell of your ear, his breath warm as he whispers, “Did thinking of me do this to you?"

You lift your gaze, and his smile is devastating—lazy, beautiful, and so damn sure of himself. He knows exactly what he’s doing. Exactly what he does to you.

"Caleb," you breathe, a warning, but it falls apart the second he slides his fingers between your thighs.

He chuckles softly, his lips dragging along your jaw, warm and unhurried. “So sentimental," he murmurs, his voice dipping lower. "I knew you would be." His breath ghosts over your skin, making you shiver. "I thought maybe you’d just look through our memories, let it remind you how much I mean to you." His fingers curl inside you, drawing a soft whimper from your lips. "But I’m very glad you decided to be… passionate about it instead."

You barely manage a breathless laugh, but it catches in your throat when his fingers sink deeper, moving with slow, devastating precision. Your thighs tremble against him as he lazily teases you, making your legs jerk.

"You manipulative asshole," you gasp, your hips arching into his hand, desperate for more.

He smirks against your throat, dragging his teeth over the sensitive skin, his voice low and teasing. "Mm, you’re not complaining." His words hum against your pulse, warm and smug. "you’re actually clinging to me like you might just float away."

Your hands tangle in his hair, fingers tightening at the roots, pulling just enough to make him groan. You’re trembling now, heat pooling low in your belly, each stroke of his fingers leaving you weaker, breathless, before he lessens the pressure.

"Caleb," you plead, voice cracking around his name, needy and ruined.

His lips brush your ear, his voice thick with affection, with want. "I love hearing you say my name like that."

He only smiles against your skin, biting down gently on the curve of your neck, teeth dragging over the delicate flesh just enough to make you gasp. “We just got home." His voice is low, almost mocking, his fingers barely moving—a slow, deliberate torture that makes your hips buck in frustration.

"You’re infuriating," you moan, rocking into his hand, desperate for more. The ache is building, sharp and restless, but he gives you nothing more than a teasing graze of his fingertips, just enough to keep you trembling on the edge.

"You were the one who distracted me," he cuts in smoothly, his voice rough with amusement. His lips trail along your jaw, pressing slow, lingering kisses against the sensitive skin. “Always tryin to twist it on to me" His teeth scrape against your earlobe, making you shiver. His breath is hot and smug, ghosting over your skin, knowing exactly how weak you are for him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll let you,” he rasps, his hand sliding lower, parting you with agonizing slowness. His fingers trace over you with lazy, infuriating precision—light, feather-soft strokes that make your thighs clench around his hand. He dips just enough to tease your entrance before retreating, denying you what you so clearly crave.

“You always do," you grit out, voice barely more than a breathless whimper. Your nails dig into his shoulder, clinging to him, hoping he’ll take pity on you, but he only smirks against your skin.

"Mm, not always," he murmurs, nipping at the hollow beneath your jaw. “always is too permanent." His lips curve into a smirk you can feel against your throat—the kind that makes you burn with equal parts lust and frustration.

Testing the limits of your patience, he drags his fingers through your slickness, barely applying pressure, just enough to feel how wet you are for him.

“Is this what happens when you think about me?” he muses, almost mockingly. “How lucky I am."

You shudder when he presses harder, dragging his fingers with more purpose, making you sob softly into his neck. He pulls back just enough to catch your eyes. His gaze is dark, but there’s warmth in it—something reverent, something awe-struck. He’s still not sure you’re real. He doesn’t want to miss a second of watching you fall apart.

"Let go for me, love," he whispers, voice thick with need. "I’ve got you."

The words undo you. You come with a sharp gasp, your body shuddering violently as you clench around his fingers, pulsing helplessly. The pleasure crashes through you in dizzying waves, leaving you boneless and trembling. Your nails bite into his shoulders, and he groans at the sharp sting, feeling the way you shake in his arms—the way you whimper his name as if it’s the only word you know.

His lips find yours, slow and deliberate, swallowing every broken sound that spills from your mouth. He kisses you through the aftershocks, his tongue sliding over yours with languid strokes. He’s savoring the taste of you—the way you melt and sigh and give yourself over so completely. His hand stays between your thighs, fingers still slick with your release, teasing lazy, featherlight circles that make you twitch with oversensitivity.

Before you can fully catch your breath, he’s already moving. His hands grip your thighs, guiding you with ease as he shifts his pants and pulls you onto his lap. You let out a startled gasp when your knees bracket his hips, the sudden press of his hard length against your slick heat making you shiver. His fingers dig into your waist, firm and possessive, holding you steady as he drags your hips against him, making you feel every inch of him.

The roughness of the carpet scrapes against your knees, a faint burn against your skin, but you hardly notice. It’s nothing compared to the stretch of him as he slides you onto him—slow and steady, filling you so perfectly, so completely, that you can’t help but whimper into his mouth. He groans softly, his lips still pressed against yours, swallowing the broken, needy sounds you make.

His fingers flex against your hips, anchoring you in place as he grinds deeper, making you feel the full, maddening weight of him. Your forehead falls against his, your breath coming in short, uneven pants, and he brushes his lips over yours again—slow, almost tender, a delicious contrast to the way he grips you so tightly, unable to bear letting you go.

He groans against you in a gentle laugh.

Your heart thundering against his skin.

His hand cups the back of your neck making your head lean back.

You glance up, and the moment your eyes meet, something in his expression shifts. The tenderness there hits you so hard it makes your throat tighten. His gaze is reverent, holding you. You’re something precious, something infinite.

"You’re everything to me," the words sure and unwavering.

“more than your rock collection?”

He huffs a soft laugh, his hands tightening ever so slightly at your hips. “infinitely more than my rare geological specimens."

“hm.” you press, your lips twitching into a grin.

He leans in, brushing his mouth against your temple. “much more," he murmurs. “You always have been.”

Your chest tightens, and your hands frame his face, guiding his lips to yours. The kiss is slow and aching, all warmth and devotion, as if you have all the time in the world.

"Goodness," you breathe against his lips, a teasing lilt.

He grins faintly, then lifts your other leg, wrapping it around his waist. The angle makes you gasp and him press deeper.

“Don’t close your eyes.”

He grips your hips with purpose, pulling you down as he thrusts up into you, slow and deliberate. Each movement is measured, dragging pleasure from you and savoring it—he wants to feel every shiver, every pulse you give him. The windows beyond blur into a smear of dark sky and scattered starlight, but you barely notice. Your head tilts back, a helpless moan slipping from your lips as your eyes flutter shut. You can’t help it—your eyes roll back, your body arching into his as he fills you so perfectly.

With a low growl, Caleb sits up suddenly, his arms sliding around your back. He moves fluidly, effortlessly, flipping you both over in one smooth motion. The breath leaves your lungs in a startled gasp, but he’s already there—settling over you, his chest pressed to yours, his hands framing your face as he gazes down at you with a hunger that makes your skin flush.

His hips drive into you with more force now, deeper, rougher, pulling a strangled whimper from your throat. You cling to him, your arms winding around his neck, nails raking down his back hard enough to leave angry red trails. You sob softly against his shoulder, the sound raw and pleading, your voice barely a breath.
"Caleb," his name fractured, wrecked with longing.

He groans at the sound, his breath a hot rush against your neck. "God, I love hearing you say my name," he rasps, his voice gravel-thick, ruined with need. His lips trail down your throat, tasting every inch of skin, his teeth grazing lightly over your pulse.

One hand slides between your bodies, his fingers slipping down, finding you exactly where you need him. His thumb presses firmly, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that have you gasping into his mouth, trembling beneath him.

"Please," your hips grind against him, your body chasing the edge.

"You’re so good to me," he rasps, his voice wrecked in worship.

You shatter with him still inside you, your body breaking against his. The world contracts—narrowing to the sharp, sudden pull of pleasure splintering through you. His fingers keep working you through it, relentless, drawing every last tremor from you until you’re nothing but a trembling, gasping mess in his arms. You barely register the low, guttural sound that tears from his throat as he follows, his body going taut, breath stalling before he spills into you. His hips falter, then press deep, trying to anchor himself inside you—leaving is the last thing he wants.

You clutch at him, hands fisting in the fabric at his back, breath ragged and uneven. His arms cinch around you, fierce and desperate, as though he’s afraid you might slip through his fingers. But you stay. You let him hold you through it—the aftershocks, the trembling, the quiet unraveling—until all that’s left is the sound of your breathing, tangled and slow, steadying together.

"I’m so thankful I get to love you," he murmurs softly, pressing a slow kiss to your forehead.

The dark sky presses in through the windows, quiet and endless, but in his arms, you are grounded. Held.

You press your cheek against his chest, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat ground you. "I’m grateful to be yours," you murmur softly. "You love so effortlessly."

His fingers trail slowly down your spine, soothing, reverent. He kisses your temple, lingering because he might never let go.

The box of memories rests beside you—forgotten but not discarded. A quiet remnant of the past, left open, but no longer reaching for you. It lingers there, neither heavy nor sharp, simply present. But right now, it’s his hands you feel the most. The warmth of them, steady and familiar, pressed against yours. The way his thumb drags slowly over your knuckles, tracing thoughtless circles in muscle memory.

And the way he holds you now—he wants to remember this forever.

[gilmores-glorious-blog]

area man won’t shut the fuck up about his partner, more at seven

[bravenot]

I wasn’t gonna listen to the winter’s crest album but someone mentioned that ‘O Mighty Nein’ sung by Liam as Caleb has references to all the nein. Here are the lyrics for that part :)

O shortest, oldest friend so green, you’ve always seen the gut* in me (Veth/Nott)

Dark angel, we have bonded so, o’er violent pasts from long ago (Yasha)

O patient noble brewer of tea, you’ve taught me such serenity (Caduceus)

Seafaring man, keep standing strong, you’ve been a leader all along (Fjord)

O sapphire you mean much to me, the cutest in our company (Jester)

And though we clash from time to time, brave monk you’re my partner in crime (Beau)

Fort, doch nicht vergessen*, we miss you so, oh fallen friend (Molly)

*good

**gone, but not forgotten

[minxipinxi]

#LADsMultiBoycott: Enough Is Enough – It’s Time to Stand Together

“We don’t hate the game—we love it enough to want better.”

Over the past few weeks, the community has been buzzing over translated leaks and rumors surfacing on Xiaohongshu (小红书) and Twitter that point to a disturbing trend in Love and Deepspace (LADs). The upcoming multi-banner—whether it turns out to be the anticipated Spring or Wedding multi—will once again feature long hairstyles separated from their outfits. Yes, again. After all the outcry. After all the feedback. We're here once more.

Let me be blunt: we can’t keep going like this. We can’t keep hoping CN girlies will save us every time. We can’t keep spending in good faith when Infold continues to exploit our loyalty and silence our voices. We can’t keep pretending that fan art and cute trailers make up for broken promises and paywalled aesthetics.

It’s time for us to join together, across servers, communities, and fandoms. It's not about Sylus mains vs Caleb mains vs the OG3. We're all getting burned by the same fire.

💥 What We Know From the Leaks

According to reliable sources:

The upcoming banner after Sylus’s Birthday Event might be another multi-banner format, either Spring or Wedding.

Long hairstyles will be separated from the outfits and placed in a separate crate—again.

This structure mirrors gacha mechanics where full outfits demand 140+ pulls, stretching across 5-star parts like socks, pants, accessories, and hair.

These decisions appear to be influenced by monetization models similar to Infinity Nikki, prioritizing profit over playability or fairness.

📢 So What Are We Doing About It?

We are organizing under #LADsMultiBoycott to push back against these predatory changes. This isn’t just a tantrum. It’s a coordinated protest.

🔥 Our Demands:

Six-month roadmaps to ensure transparency and accountability.

Higher resource drops from the highest-tier Bounty/Core Hunt.

Stop separating hairstyles from outfits in banners.

New sources of diamond income (no more stagnant gem economy).

No spending for the first 3 days of the banner. Use only your saved-up diamonds.

File official complaints to show Infold that this matters. Email:

loveanddeepspace-en@infoldgames.com

support-EN@infoldgames.com

🧠 Strategy: What You Can Do

Here’s what our global LADs family is doing:

1. No Spending for Entire Banner Period

Even if you have funds set aside, hold them. Don’t top up. Don’t feed the system that’s disrespecting your playtime and wallet.

2. Delay Your Pulls

Do not pull in the first 3 days. Choose your LI in the pool, then log out. Let the data show decreased first-week participation.

3. Minimal Screen Time

Yes, log in for dailies, but keep your session short, especially for iOS users. Play Store and App Store algorithms track usage data. Reduced screen time:

Hurts engagement metrics.

Lowers game ranking.

Cuts ad revenue.

4. No Banner Fanart for First Few Days

As painful as it is to hide our beautiful boys, let’s not unintentionally trigger FOMO. Fanart drives hype—hold off until after the peak revenue period.

5. Only Use Android if Possible

App Store rankings are disproportionately influenced by iOS user engagement. Reducing iOS traffic matters more than you think.

🌎 A Global Movement: We’re Not Alone

Our fellow players in China have already shaken Infold’s confidence.

CN revenue dropped by 42.2% from Nov 2024 to March 2025 (from $100M to $57.8M).

Global rankings dropped, while games like Genshin and Wuthering Waves soared.

Their success in the "stop-spending-money" campaign proved one thing: boycotts work.

If they can do it, so can we.

✊ This Is About More Than Just One Banner

Infold believes that as long as they release a sexy card, we’ll cave. They believe we don’t talk to each other. That we’re divided by LI bias and language barriers. But what they don’t see is how deeply connected we’ve become as a fandom.

We aren’t asking for perfection. We’re asking for respect.

If we let this multi go unchallenged, it sets a dangerous precedent:

Separated hairstyles in multi-banners like this become normalized.

Resources remain stagnant.

Paywalls keep climbing.

F2P and low-spenders are permanently excluded.

💡 Why Minimal Playtime Matters

Some of you might be thinking, “But this won’t work?” And here’s why it will:

“Why Cutting Screen Time Works” – The Breakdown

Engagement metrics tank. App Store/Play Store ranks games by DAU, session length, etc.

Revenue drops. Less screen time = fewer ad views = less money.

Rankings slide. Visibility goes down, leading to even fewer players.

It sends a message. A sharp drop in playtime can’t be ignored by business analysts.

💬 “But What If Infold Cancels the Game?”

They won’t. That’s just fear-mongering.

If a company is willing to kill its own cash cow just because fans want better—then it was never worth our support to begin with. But more importantly: they won’t kill it. They’ve seen that the game can pull millions. They’ll just need to earn it now.

🧱 We’re Building Something Bigger

This isn’t just about LADs. It’s about every gacha game that’s begun preying on its fans. If we roll over here, what message are we sending to WuWa, HSR, ZZZ, GI, and the rest?

We all have that one game we ride or die for. But loving a game doesn’t mean blind loyalty. Criticism is love in action.

🧩 TL;DR: How You Can Help

❌ Don’t spend money on the next multi-banner

🕒 Log in for dailies only, pick your LI, then log off

🎨 Hold off on banner fanart for a few days

📉 Reduce iOS activity as much as possible

💌 Email: loveanddeepspace-en@infoldgames.com support-EN@infoldgames.com

🗣️ Spread awareness under #LADsMultiBoycott

Even if you’re the only one on your server, know that you’re not alone. We’re tired, we’re frustrated—but we’re not powerless.

Let’s stop funding our own oppression.

No fair treatment = no money. Let them earn it.

Resources:

Revenue Trends: Ennead Data

Reddit Info Post: Sylus Girlies PSA

XHS Links: Source 1, Source 2