jinx | 28 | lucifers slutty human | adrian raines, ethan ramsey & marc antony walk in to a bar | my main is @yoongibomb follow me there if you like bts but this channel is for all fandom shit.
100 Writing Prompts to Spark Your Creativity
Made this list for anyone who’s feeling stuck, curious, or just needs a little push to get words flowing.
Use them however you want!
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FICTION PROMPTS
A blind cartographer maps dreams for a living.
The letter arrived 100 years too late.
A town where no one can lie, until someone does.
Rewrite a fairy tale from the villain’s perspective.
A retired assassin opens a flower shop.
A machine lets you delete one memory, what do you choose?
The moon vanishes for 48 hours.
Every time they fall asleep, they wake in a different life.
A ghost demands rent from the new homeowners.
A child is born without a shadow.
A passenger on a train realizes they’re the only real person onboard.
The sea gives back what it once took.
A witch runs a detective agency in a cursed city.
Heir to a throne, but the kingdom is imaginary.
A tree grows in the center of town and whispers names at midnight.
A house swaps locations every full moon.
Your character wakes up in someone else’s body, again.
A book writes itself while you read it.
A lost item returns with a note attached.
The stars rearrange to spell a warning.
NON-FICTION / MEMOIR PROMPTS
Write about a moment you felt truly invisible.
What would your childhood home say if it could speak?
Recount a secret you’ve never said aloud, without revealing the secret.
Describe a person who changed your life without knowing it.
Write about a meal that marked a turning point.
A letter to your future self. Ten years from now.
Explore a family myth or rumor and what it means to you.
Write about an object you’ve carried for years and why.
Describe a sound that takes you back in time.
A trip that didn’t go as planned,but needed to.
POETRY PROMPTS
Write a poem as a letter never sent.
Begin with the line: “I buried the silence in the garden.”
A love poem to something that cannot love back.
Write about light without using the word “light.”
A weather report for your emotions.
Describe a season as if it were a person.
A poem where each stanza represents a different room.
Write a poem using only colors and sensations.
A poem titled "The Archive of Forgotten Smells."
Personify the moon arguing with the ocean.
SCREENWRITING PROMPTS
A retired superhero loses their powers in the real world.
Two strangers are stuck in an elevator during a blackout.
A reality show goes horribly wrong, live.
A time traveler returns to prevent their own birth.
An AI starts writing its own soap opera.
A musical set entirely in a laundromat.
The last voicemail of a missing person.
A road trip between a ghost and the person who accidentally summoned them.
A world where emotions are traded as currency.
A man wakes up and no one remembers he existed.
CHARACTER-DRIVEN PROMPTS
A character refuses to speak for a year, why?
Someone finds their own name on a list of missing people.
Your protagonist has never seen their own reflection.
A compulsive liar tells one final truth.
A character who hears people’s thoughts, except one person’s.
A friendship slowly turns into a rivalry, show the tipping point.
A character begins receiving letters from their childhood pet.
An archivist begins to erase their own records.
Your character is convinced someone’s rewriting their memories.
A person confronts their past self in a dream, and loses.
SPECULATIVE / SURREAL PROMPTS
Everyone wakes with the same tattoo, and no memory of how.
People are born with countdowns on their wrists.
Each season brings new laws.
You receive a package addressed to someone you used to be.
An abandoned theme park that alters time.
A library where books age with their readers.
A forest appears where there was none before.
You wake to find all sound gone except music.
People begin turning into stone, one finger at a time.
A staircase that never leads the same place twice.
WRITING STYLE / FORM PROMPTS
Write a story without using the letter “e.”
Compose a narrative entirely in dialogue.
Write a scene backward, from end to beginning.
Use footnotes to tell a secondary story.
Tell a love story using only emails and receipts.
Write an unreliable narrator who thinks they’re telling the truth.
Tell a ghost story through a series of diary entries.
A story that shifts genres halfway through.
Describe a character using only metaphors.
Write a piece in the format of an old recipe card.
THEME-BASED PROMPTS
A story exploring obsession without using the word “obsession.”
Write about justice through the eyes of a villain.
Create a world based on one of the seven deadly sins.
Tell a story about forgiveness set in a hospital.
A narrative about legacy, what is left behind.
Write about betrayal from the betrayer’s perspective.
Explore the concept of “home” without referencing a house.
A love story where one character is already dead.
A journey where the destination disappears.
A tale about control, gained, lost, or surrendered.
MYSTERY / TENSION PROMPTS
A missing persons case solved by a child’s drawing.
A phone rings in an abandoned building.
Every clock in the world skips one second.
A stranger knows everything about you, except your name.
A detective falls in love with their prime suspect.
A letter opener is the only clue left behind.
Someone confesses to a crime no one knew happened.
A mirror shows not the present, but five minutes ahead.
A thief breaks into a home only to find their own belongings.
A child’s imaginary friend starts leaving footprints.
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“Join me,” he had said after telling you about the overseas meeting planned for the end of the week.
“Join you…on your business trip? I thought you said this was an important deal. And that it took months to arrange a meeting with this man.”
Yoongi had smiled then, calm and patient as always. “I’ll be gone for a week, not just the weekend. He wants me to stay afterward so we can visit one of his workshops before we finalize the contract,” he explained. “Travelling alone for that long sounds incredibly boring.”
Then, after a brief pause, he added softly, “And lonely.”
The corners of his lips twitched when he noticed your shy smile.
His gaze lingered on yours before he asked quietly, “What do you say?”
How could you possibly refuse?
how would husband! clark react if his wife told him she’s going to a naked pilates class (this is a tik tok trend 😭)
this is so funny to me lmao
pairing: husband!clark kent x f!reader. word count: 854. content: tiktok trend. literally just dialogue of a prank and clark falling for it. not proofread, it’s all silly fun.
Clark has just opened his Tupperware of a homemade lunch, made by yours truly, when his phone began to buzz on the table. He was in the canteen, Jimmy Olsen at another table, thumbs tapping away at his own phone.
He didn’t even need to look at the Caller ID. You guys ran on a phone call schedule.
“Hi, honey.” Clark stabbed the rather sad lettuce with his fork, “How are you?”
“Yeah, I’m okay. I need your advice on something really quick.”
Clark piled enough food into his mouth and hummed “OK. Shoot.”
“So, you remember how I started Pilates a couple of weeks ago? The one that Cat referred me to? Well, anyway, they had this new class called Nudelates. Not a lot of people signed up for it, and I felt bad for the instructor, so I signed up and paid the eighty dollars—”
“Eighty?” Clark choked on a leaf, “Honey.”
“No, no. That’s not the worst part.” You continued, “So, anyway, I sign up to the class and then I’ve just turned up and bumped into the instructor in the parking lot before it starts. Clark, the class is meant to be done fully naked. As in, absolutely no clothes. Nude Pilates. Nudelates.”
“Okay. And, this wasn’t in the pamphlet for it?” Clark furrowed his brows as he tried to find a solution.
You shook your head as if he could see you, “No. It was just word of mouth. But, the instructor said it’s non-refundable. And, you know how tight I am with my money…I can’t waste it.”
“Uh, right. Do you want comfort, or a solution?”
“Well, I don’t want to take the class nude. But, I spent eighty dollars on this thing.” You sounded a little stressed, like you were seriously considering walking into the building and exposing yourself for this class.
Clark frowned, “Then don’t do it, honey. I’ll give you the eighty dollars if it’s that serious. Are there other women doing it?”
“Nope.” The letter ‘P’ popped as you spoke, “Just me and the instructor.”
Unbeknownst to Clark, you were throwing a line in the hopes he would take the bait. Sat in your car, in front of your apartment building with an iced coffee that the ice had melted in the cup holder somewhere between the coffee shop and the parking lot, you bit at your nails with a grin on your face.
Some days off the clock were more boring than others. You made up enough screen time for both you and Clark, and that came with the consequences on Clark’s end of the stick.
Trends were entertaining to watch. Even more entertaining to perform on your husband with a severe lack of social media presence.
You could hear him mull it over. A part you loved so deeply, and felt so guilty for momentarily taking advantage of, was that any fork in the road problems you brought to Clark; he’d always weigh out both possibilities with the upmost optimism.
Even if he didn’t agree with either outcome. He just wanted you to thrive in your decisions.
“It could be fun?” Clark didn’t sound so sure this time, “Liberating, even.”
Jimmy Olsen looked up from his phone to listen in to the conversation. Clark shrugged when Jimmy mouthed to ask what was happening.
“See, this is exactly what he said.”
The record in Clark’s head scratched.
“He?” Clark straightened his posture, “Who—Who do you mean by he?”
“…My instructor? It’s a guy.”
The chair beneath Clark screeched as he stood, “No.” Jimmy watched his friend storm to the door and throw it open, the wall behind it cracking with the force. “Absolutely not. Where is this place? I’m coming right now.”
“What?”
“The location. I need to speak with your instructor.” Clark was already up three flights of stairs, heading to the roof to fly. It’d be quicker that way.
This part was not included in the joke that, according to your husband, had gone too far.
You panicked, “Clark, no. It’s fine, I’ll just not go. I’m going home now—”
“No, this man is taking advantage of women. And you, honey. I’m glad you’re going home, but I would still like to speak to him. What he is doing is illegal.” Clark began to remove his glasses when he reached the rooftop of the Daily Planet building.
“Are you outside?”
“I’m about to fly. Yes.”
“Whoa. OK. Time out.” You laughed nervously, “Take a breather. I’m joking. I’m joking, it was a joke, Clark. It was just a stupid trend I saw on TikTok.”
Clark paused on the roof edge, “Are you lying to me?”
“No. I’m serious, there’s no naked Pilates. Or, a creepy instructor. Just, just a joke, Clark. I promise.”
Clark pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes wrinkled from scrunching them shut. Nostrils flared, he counted to five before putting his glasses back on and turning on his heel to return to the bullpen.
He grumbled down the phone, “We’re going to have a talk about your screen time, when I get home, honey.”
Synopsis – On the dining table, against the wall, on the couch, on the carpet, against the window, can you imagine how many positions the Colonel wants to put you in after a weeks-long mission, after his first taste of you that night on his birthday?
[18+ Love & Deepspace] Caleb (Xia Yizhou)/Gender-Neutral Reader
Tags: MARATHON SEX, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, food play, male-receiving oral, gender-neutral oral, doggy style, prone bone, missionary, riding, WHINY reader and WHINY Caleb, POSSESSIVENESS and jealousy, heavy making out, some angst because can you imagine how lonely Caleb was before we found him?
Word count: 5.7k
EXPLICIT SMUT BENEATH. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.
THE USE OF ANY FORM OF ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE ON MY WORKS IS PROHIBITED.
—
The Colonel was used to coming home to a dark house. A deep frown on his face as he passed through the empty doorway, no one to greet him. A frustrated sigh as he went over the endless stream of mission data and reports to secure his position in the Fleet, to forget about the fact that only rabid hatred and angry violence made up his very DNA as an officer in the Fleet—from assassination attempts on his life to angry husbands and wives trying to claw his eyes out for stealing their beloveds away from them with his orders for full Toring Chip implantation on all members of his Fleets.
He’s a bad man, and he knows he deserves more pain than an empty house or empty threats on his life. But today, he comes home to the scent of his favorite spices wafting through an open window. The dark house in his hazy memories those first months after his supposed death and initial deployment in the Fleet is alive today with orange lights. A young tree of Asiatic apples blooms in the afternoon sun at the end of the stone path leading to the front door.
He remembers your hands as you planted it. The only hands that have held him with love in the last year.
Caleb crosses the stone path. Your silhouette crosses the open window. He catches a glimpse of a tray in your hand.
He races to the front door, a smile coming to his face as he hears you move around in the kitchen. You make little grunts of effort, a few noises of delight—you must be trying the dishes you’d prepared for his arrival. Caleb has never smiled so hard in his life since that day at Gran’s house.
With concentration furrowing his brow, he adjusts his tie, dusts off his cap, and straightens his posture. He places a hand on the doorknob.
You’d left the door unlocked. He swings it open.
“I’m home!” he calls, to a house aglow with soft overhead lights and a ‘Welcome Back!’ sign strung up in golden balloons at the roof of the entryway.
“Oh shit, Caleb!” Caleb melts at the sound of your voice, even with the expletive. “In the kitchen!”
He can’t help himself. Caleb reaches the kitchen in four quick strides, almost running towards the sound of your voice.
He scoops you up in his arms the moment he reaches you. With a reluctant laugh you struggle against him and begin to complain.
“Caleb, the pie! It’s apple pie!”
He doesn’t let go. And in spite of how funny it is to hear you protesting his affections all to save a pie, he can’t help the melancholic swell in his chest. He has never come home to safety, to love. The last few months, he returned home as a dead man—on paper and to everyone he ever knew.
But you’ve changed that. It took just your smile, he remembers those first few nights he returned to you, to change so many things about him. You made him want to be alive in spite of how he was dead in every possible aspect.
With his face pressed into the crook of your neck, Caleb begins to cry.
You still immediately as the salt of his tears wets your shoulder. His sobs are gentle. He presses himself closer to you, bending down with his arms wrapped so completely around you, stronger than any gravitational pull. Against the typical gentle nature of comfort you pull him into a tighter embrace, savoring the feel of the only man you love coming back home to you, safe and sound, in your arms. He deserves to know that you will never let him go. So you show him that with your arms wrapped just as tightly around him.
When he stills and his cries turn to sniffles, you pull back from him to smile up at his handsome face, wiping tears from under his glistening supernova irises. Your thumbs are soft on his cheeks as you wipe the tears of your beautiful boy. He gives a gentle smile as he looks down at you.
You’ve never been looked at with so much love.
“Welcome home, Caleb.”
And Caleb has never loved the sound of three words more.
—
Caleb compliments your cooking all throughout the meal. Of course he can’t help throwing in a few quips at you here and there. He teases your Julienned carrots, poking you in the nose as he reminds you of how you cut up so-called Julienned carrots into little letter ‘J’s in every home economics class because you believed the kid who bullied you when he told you Julienne meant spelling out the inventor’s name. Seated next to him, knowing you can’t stay away and you would have transferred to the seat over anyway if you’d sat across from him, you get the chance to shove another forkful of, in your opinion, perfectly Julienned carrots in his mouth as he snorts out another laugh at your irritated expression.
“Go ahead and get changed into something more comfy,” you tell him once he finishes the main course. Because, of course, you’d crafted three specific courses for his return. You’ve only gone through two so far.
“I haven’t had dessert yet though,” he says, eyeing the apple pie on the plate next to your elbow. You grab it, holding the plate in front of him in a tempting hover.
“You want it?”
He snorts. “Boo. I just got home and you’re already bullying me?”
“You heard me, Caleb.”
“Okay, okay,” he says, standing. He spares one last glance at you, smiling at the sight of you filling his dining room with light and scrumptious home cooking and a smile that could be the sun in all his lifetimes. He goes up the stairs to get changed.
And with that, you undergo your own costume change.
You’d planned this the whole time he was gone. Turned the idea over in your head a million times. He’d so enjoyed receiving you as his gift—matter of fact, he admitted staining his pants a bit when you’d arrived at Fleet HQ in an outfit wrapped in ribbons on his birthday a few weeks back. Wouldn’t he enjoy having you as a gift, just one more time?
But what if he already thought the idea was corny? As you strip down till you’re in nothing but your underwear, regret begins to come to the surface. Here you were being presumptuous about the kinds of things Caleb would like. You’ve never explored anything remotely sexual with him before, and you’d only been together a few months. That one night on his birthday was all you had. Your brow furrows with embarrassment, and you reach for your clothes again—
“Oh,” a voice breathes from behind you. “Pipsqueak…”
Wrapped in lace that hugs your frame, you know you look like the most mouthwatering meal Caleb will ever have a taste of. But the embarrassment lingers, even as he approaches with sin already pooling in his eyes, his muscles bulging from the tight white shirt he put on, the dogtag you gave him nestled between his outrageous pecs. When you chance a glance downward, you can see how his dick print begins to swell in his grey sweats—its outline grows larger the longer you look at it.
“Is this all for me?” he asks, his fingers ghosting over your bare shoulder. You catch his hand before it can move further downward.
“I haven’t spoiled you rotten already, have I?” you tease. “Be patient. This dessert is for later.” You move to his side and guide him to his chair. “Sit down.”
Caleb tilts his head, curious at what you have prepared for him when you look more than ready for him to dive in between your thighs.
You walk around him once he’s seated, picking up the tray of three servings of apple pie. Caleb almost stands up to help. All it takes is a look from you and he’s sitting back down slowly as you set the tray in front of him.
“Here’s your dessert, Colonel.”
He doesn’t even spare a glance at the apple pie—his eyes never leave you. Pshaw. You’d work so hard on presentation. The caramel on top even shines a creamy gold.
“Pipsqueak—”
“If you keep talking and don’t start eating, you’re going to miss out on your real dessert.” He doesn’t pick up on your impatience. If he asked you nicely right now, you’d bend over for him and let him pound you into next Sunday. You’ve missed him just as much as he misses you.
The Colonel likes a good challenge. He shovels each forkful of pie into his mouth, eyes never leaving yours. At times he glances down at your figure and slows down, sometimes pausing completely. But after several seconds of eyeing you like a hungry wolf he seems to remember where he is and what he should be doing and resumes piggin’ out.
It’s when he’s halfway done with the apple pie that you remember the second half to this part of your plan. While sensual, your movements are a bit harried.
Caleb pauses eating as you stand in front of him, as you had made enough space between the table and his seat when you planned this slightly new kitchen layout. You motion for him to continue eating. With a swipe of your thumb to his lips, you catch a crumb of apple pie that had caught on his mouth, and press it to your lips, swallowing while maintaining eye contact with the man whose hard-on grows more and more prominent by the millisecond.
He knows better now than to stop eating. He just has to be good for you. So even as you press gentle kisses to his jawline and along his neck, akin to the fluttering touch of a butterfly, he continues to obey your previous orders.
But when your body slides downward, your chest pressing warm against his before you keep going down and down and down, smooth as molasses, finally landing on your knees between his spread legs, he finds his voice again.
“Pip—”
Any words he might have for you are lost in a grunt and him nearly choking on a mouth full of apple pie as you press a hot, open-mouthed kiss to his cock through his sweats. Already more than half-hard, it was easy for you to find the tip. You give him another kiss through his sweatpants, mouth catching in just the right way at the tip. His thighs part to make more space for you. When your eyes find his again and take in him obediently finishing up the apple pie, you smirk. His reward will be priceless.
You pull his sweats to his ankles. He didn’t even bother wearing boxers. His cock springs up to smack gently against your lips, and as it slaps into your mouth you give a hungry little gasp.
You don’t hesitate to kiss and suckle along the length of him. You start kissing from the side of his cockhead to the base, before you press intimate kisses to the rest of his length, tongue lolling out to lick at him with every. Single. Kiss. Caleb, with only about a total of five hours of experience since that night on his birthday, nearly cums then and there.
He grips the wood of the table hard in his hand as you kiss the underside of his cock, licking and sucking in heavy sweeps with your tongue. You moan against him, the vibrations crawling right up his spine. He leans back against his chair. Savors the first feel of your mouth on him. You didn’t get to have him like this that first night. He was too busy finding places to lick between your thighs.
“That’s so good (Name),” he murmurs. You look up. The fork is back on the plate at the table, and his hand is drifting towards you to hold your face in the most gentle touch.
You swat his naked thigh with a loud slap, your mouth still on him. Caleb looks down at you in real bewilderment, his dusky eyes hazy as a lazy sunset, before he recognizes your command and, with strain in his body, pulls the fork back to his mouth. He chews open-mouthed on the apple pie, panting through his meal, his head rolling back into the chair. His Adam’s apple bobs heavily as he swallows.
One thing you are truly skilled in is making this man struggle. You wouldn’t tell him just yet, but while he was away on mission you were busy practicing with a sex toy you’d kept hidden in your drawer for several months. Having him in your life as more than a friend has made you bring it back out into the world. While he was gone, you eagerly went over articles and forums, imagining with great pleasure how your newfound skills and efforts would translate into giving him the craziest head of his life.
You were a tad nervous earlier. But you reveal just how much you’ve practiced now.
“Baaaabyy, have you always been so good at this?” Caleb moans. “Ooohhh, oh fuck.”
You suck your cheeks inward. Bob your head up and down with your wet tongue pressed flat against the underside of his throbbing cock, caressing the sensitive skin of his frenulum every time you bring your head back up to his tip. Caleb shudders, swallowing another slice of apple pie through his struggle, his fists clenching. He hunches over the table and pants. It provides him with minimal relief, obstructing at the very least his hyper-arousing view of your mouth swallowing his cock down into your throat while you look up at him with the prettiest pair of teary eyes.
“You finished the pie yet, baby?”
Caleb’s cock twitches at the sound of your voice. It’s all fucked-out, raspy when you give voice to a vowel. He can only imagine the strain on your throat every time you sucked his cock into the back of your throat, holding it there so that he could feel the way your throat squeezed at his cockhead every time you gagged. When did you learn how to do such lewd things?
He decides to voice the question, leaning back to meet your gaze while he breathes hard through each word, “Where did you… learn to… do things like that?”
“Hmm?” You press a sweet kiss to the tip of his cock. Your tongue swipes over a bead of precum that slips out of the puckered hole on his tip. Caleb clenches his fist, holding steady in spite of your ministrations. Still he falters slightly when you nuzzle your soft mouth into him, your voice vibrating against his cock deliciously with your words, “What d’you mean, Cay?”
His eyes flutter. His nails bite into the skin of his palm as he clenches his fist harder. “I-I mean, have you had practice… before?”
You freeze. Guilt creeps upon your expression. At that, jealousy begins to churn in Caleb’s gut, corroding his patience.
You stammer out something silly, unwilling to admit you’d been going to town on a dildo the entire time he was gone so you could practice for his return, “Don’t get the wrong idea—”
Caleb bends down and lifts you from the ground.
In the past, Caleb would reel in his instinctive responses of jealousy. When you were teens and you’d gush to him about cute love letters left in your locker, all that would reach you were subtle words that reeked of envy, perhaps a “he’s never gonna be good enough for you” or “there’s somebody so much better out there just waiting for you.” Tonight, after every time you’ve given in to him, every time you let him push your limits, he decides to finally, just once, surrender to his petty jealousies.
Caleb has picked you up, his hands on the backs of your thighs. You’re vulnerable in his arms as he stands from his chair, not quite looking at you, his expression unreadable. You’d be afraid if you hadn’t put your life in this man’s hands a dozen times and without fail he prioritized it above all else.
“You’ve let somebody else touch you?” he asks, his face so close to yours you can almost taste the jealousy on his breath. “Somebody who would never even bother to take the time to learn exactly what you like, like I’ve always done?”
You don’t give him an answer.
He tilts his head at you. Even with his patience running thin, he will give you a chance to escape. “I’ll give you five seconds to answer.”
One second passes. Then two. Something inside him shifts as he closes his eyes in a final attempt at restoring his composure. Beneath his eyelids, images of how you might have let other people touch you, how you allowed somebody else to hold your precious body in their hands and give you pleasure that should have only been reserved for his eyes, the only ones that would look at you with love like his, pass through his mind. Inside him, a yawning, vicious black hole forms at those thoughts.
Caleb’s eyes open. You search his gaze and arousal jumps in your stomach as you take in the unnatural darkness in the eyes of your usually sweet, tender boyfriend. His pupils are blown wide in his lavender irises.
“Your five seconds are up,” he whispers.
With a gentle sweep of his arms, he sets you on the table. Caleb settles between your spread legs, his hands coming under your knees and hooking your thighs over his shoulders as he leans back to marvel at how beautiful you look with lace tracing the lines of your body. He knows exactly how he’ll ruin you so that you forget that anyone could have ever touched your body before him.
“We’ll need a safe word tonight,” he murmurs, his fingers brushing hair from your eyes. His eyes fall to your lips as they part with a soft noise of surprise.
“Apple,” you tell him.
“The moment you don’t like what I’m doing,” he says, “The very nanosecond you feel anything, you say it.”
Caleb’s thumbs slip under the underwear hiding your core from him. Later, he’ll tear through the rest of your clothing with his teeth. The lace ribbons especially.
“Because now,” he says, his fingers ghosting over your hole, “I’m not going to hold back. I’m going to spell my name out on your hole with my fingers, and my tongue, and my cock. And you won’t ever forget who you belong to.”
You shiver.
“I want you to,” you say. Your eyes don’t break away from his even as you moan while he circles your hole with a finger. Caleb drops to his knees, his head settling between your thighs. His tongue slips from his mouth and laves over your hole. You lie back onto the table and wrap your legs around his shoulders as he begins to devour his favorite dessert.
Vaguely, through the haze of three orgasms, you recall various sensations.
Caleb’s tongue lapping at your hole with dangerous vigor. How he sank his teeth into every inch of the fat of your inner thighs to mark the holy space between your legs with bruises that would remind you who you belonged to every time you looked down in the shower. The hickeys he sucked into your lower stomach will bloom a fresh purple in beautiful juxtaposition with the rest of the marks he left.
He tried to be sweet after turning you into nothing less than his last meal, after scissoring his fingers into your hole to the point where you had to beg for him to pull his skilled digits out and give you his cock already.
“Open your mouth,” he said. You parted your lips for him, looking up at him with dazed eyes, before arousal filled your gaze once again as he spat your cum into your mouth. His mouth hovered over yours as he let his spit and your cum dribble onto your waiting tongue, and he watched with dark eyes as you took it all, writhing beneath him with arousal.
“Swallow,” he commanded. You did, without question, without hesitation. “You like your taste?”
You can only nod.
“Yeah?” He rubs your bottom lip. “Discovered that it’s my favorite in the universe that night. June 13th, I’ll save the date. But from now on, I might just have to eat you up for breakfast every morning to get my fill.”
“You…” You shake your head at him. “Have always talked way too much.”
“Hm, what else should I be doing aside from havin’ a nice chat with the love of my life?”
Your eyes roll back into your skull for reasons you don’t like.
“You say that like you didn’t just suck the soul out of me,” you mutter.
“C’mon. Tell me what you want, honey.” Caleb hovers over you, a boyish smirk playing on his chapped lips.
You take his hand in yours. You never break away from his gaze, even as your hole twitches when you brush the pads of his fingers over your puckered, stretched entrance.
“Can’t you feel how hungry I am for you?” you ask. You guide his index finger, press it just enough so that it slides inside you ever so slightly. Caleb’s breathing hitches. “You neglected me for three whole weeks. I need your cock inside me, baby.”
Your breathing hitches as he gathers you in his arms, taking your hand away from your core to guide your arm over his neck. He captures your lips in a deep kiss, his tongue slick inside your mouth—you arch into the warmth of him, chest pressing to his, before your mouth opens with a loud gasp as his cockhead presses against your hole.
“I’m putting it inside,” he whispers quickly, his forehead against yours, voice mingling in relieved moans with your own sweet chorus of pleasure as he finally slides through your slick and into you. You watch as his whole face goes slack at the sensation of your tightness sucking him inside.
You arch against him, cling to him in desperation as he gives deep, seeking thrusts into your hole. You squirm as his tongue seeks your own once more, overwhelmed by sensation.
“Mnnn!”
Neither of you last long. You’d been apart from your lover for weeks with only his photos and pre-recorded vids for company. Some were innocent recordings of him singing his favorite song that you’d put on the record to keep you company while you cooked. Some were videos shot in the dark of his body soaked in sweat while he moaned your name, with you sitting on the other side of the screen imagining his hands on you.
Caleb falls apart first, moaning ‘pipsqueak, pipsqueak’ in reverence as he fills you. And when you cum for him, crying his name in relief and from the fullness of him in your body, he doesn’t give you a break. He lifts you into the air and slides you down onto his dick. In this position, you can’t run from him, can only writhe and twist as he presses relentless thrusts into you. He cages you against the wall, covering your neck in relentless kisses. After driving you to two orgasms against the cold concrete he rips the rest of the lace off you and bends you over his couch. Caleb commits the sight of you bent over for him, arching for him, to memory right then and there, taking in every dimple in your skin and every muscle that contracts as he fucks your aching hole.
“Caleb, I want more,” you say in a needy voice after he finishes inside you on the carpet, having ridden him till he whimpered for you to stop. Evening has already fallen over Skyhaven. The moonlight shines on your beloved as he pants with exhaustion on the carpeted floor, his cock at half-mast, craving your heat once more in the same way your eyes devour the sight of him now.
Caleb chuckles, the sound so low and rough and frankly so fucked-out. You shiver at how primal he sounds.
“Can’t get enough of me, huh, pips?”
You whine needily, upset that he’s taking so long to give you what you want. It isn’t like him to deprive both you and himself. “Caleb,” you mewl, calling for his attention as you bring yourself to stand by the floor-to-ceiling windows and present yourself to him under the stagelights of a bright moon. He turns to watch you, smirking, before his smug demeanor falls apart an instant later.
You press your chest to the glass as you bend over with weak legs to spread your ass for him with your fingers. Caleb gives a groan at the sight, crawling up to you in a hurry, his hands sliding over your ass and your hips as he reaches you. Finally, he stands, and adjusts his body to settle his torso over your arched back. You feel his length rise between your thighs before the now familiar spread of him spears inside you. Your hole stretches for him once more. Caleb inhales sharply at the first press.
“Caleb,” you moan, head thrown back. Caleb bends over your body, pressing a hand into the glass. He nuzzles into the back of your neck and gives a slow, lazy thrust into your hole.
“I’ll give you two more,” he promises. That nearly makes you weep.
“I can’t,” you whine. The noise is pathetic even to your own ears.
“Yes, you can.” His arms engulf you in a bear hug, dragging you into his hips as he meets your ass with his thrusts even as you try to squirm away from him. You feel the familiar weight of his Evol balance the both of you as he presses you into the window, and yet you know that with it, you have no means of escape from him. His hands settle over your chest and collarbone. “Say it with me, (Name).”
You shake your head. He squeezes your ass hard enough to leave a red handprint in your skin, forcing a surprised yelp out of you. The night has made you familiar with how he makes good on his threats. If you don’t give him two now, he’ll make you give him four.
“I-I can,” you whimper.
“Say it again. Say my name.”
“I can, Caleb, I can,” you say, voice breaking in the middle when he gives a precise thrust into a sensitive spot inside you. He learned all your ticks so quickly. Can push your puttons with just a shift of his hips or a kiss to a certain spot on your shoulder, or behind your ear.
Caleb grunts at your words. “You’re soaked down here,” he murmurs into your ear, probing your hole with his fingers even as he pistons his cock into you. “But… did you see? All of it is my cum.”
Caleb tilts your head upward and brings his hand in front of your face. You moan at the sight of his fingers drenched white with his cum, from where he’d just touched you. Every single inch of your body throbs with arousal. You squeeze his cock as he shoves it inside you and he chuckles, the sound low in his throat. You can hear the smug smile on his face.
“Can you a-also give me two?” you ask, hiding your greed with sweetness in your voice.
Caleb huffs at your saccharine, honeyed tone. You sound so sweet underneath him, sounded sweet the whole night. His perfect little pipsqueak.
He might not know it yet, but he’s nothing but a fool when he’s balls-deep inside you. You’ve already noticed—you know you could ask for anything and he’d beg to be the one to give it to you.
You can feel the exact moment he gives in to your innocent plea. His body steadies over yours. He’s getting ready to give you everything you asked for.
“Easy peasy,” he mutters, feeling how easy it’ll be to cum inside you twice more especially when you look back at him with your tear-stained eyes, the pleasure in them matching his.
You laugh in a tired voice. But you know to brace yourself as he crowds you into the glass, his body pressing you to the window as his thrusts grow harder, find deeper places inside of you. It barely takes a minute of him simply giving you his cock in such an intimate, tight position against the window, his grunts breathing heat into your ear and nailing arousal straight into your brain, before you’re going limp in his arms and falling back into him with the first of the two orgasms he plans on giving you.
Your knees give out beneath you. Your body slides downward. Caleb’s body simply follows, too heavily weakened by the tight clench of your hole as your orgasm has you milking him with every piston of his hips. He doesn’t stop thrusting into you, letting you ride out the entirety of your orgasm, as you cum for him and slowly fall to the floor. Caleb’s chest heaves as he hunches over you, gritting his teeth as you clench up so tight around him.
Your moans are incomprehensible, uncontrolled noises pulled from your throat. He thinks he might hear syllables of his name in between, but you’re too far gone after the orgasms he gave you to put the words together. Your body writhes in his grip and he holds you close, keeps you steady even as your whole body submits to gravity and you end up on your hands and knees on the floor, body rocking back and forth with the continuous, unrelenting pistons of his hips.
“Oohhhh, baby, I’m never gonna get tired of how tight you squeeze me,” he mutters, watching the way your body slides back and forth on the rug every time he brings his hips to your ass. Your back tightens and he watches the muscles there strain. He can’t imagine how he survived being weeks away from this. This view only he gets to see, this pleasure only he is allowed to indulge in with this body of yours.
“Cum for me, Caleb, please,” you whine. “I need you to fill me up.”
It hits him out of nowhere. The moment that plea leaves your lips, Caleb’s body, exhausted from so many rounds and sensitive from each one, gives out. The backs of his thighs tremble as you both collapse into the rug. His heartbeat presses into your back as he holds you close, folds you into the carpet beneath with his weight. He’s heavy above you, rasping your name in an endless, pleasured mantra as he pulsates within you to fill you with his cum. You cry at the feel of his weight, unable to escape from him as he pumps you full of cum, holding him to you with a hand on the back of his neck.
But he doesn’t stop. Even as he trembles and whimpers from the overstimulation, he continues to piston himself into you. You squeal in protest, too brainless to string together the vowels in a word.
“One more,” he whimpers, kissing and biting the lobe of your ear, his breaths hot as he whispers his love to you, “One more, my baby. Soak my cock one more time.”
Your body writhes hard in his grip as his fingers find the most sensitive parts of your pelvis. He fingers you to and over the brink of overstimulation, and you can’t even tell him it’s too much, can’t ask him to stop—there are no words for the pleasure he gives you, the love pouring from his body into yours. Like always, you can only take what Caleb has to give. Even if it’s too much.
“Love you,” you finally babble after he pulls you to his chest to thrust up into you. “I love you so much, my Caleb.”
He whines, his cock as sensitive as your hole, drenched in slick, his cum and yours, and pulsating with overstimulation. “I love you, pipsqueak, baby, I love you—”
His voice cracks as his moans grow ragged. Caleb flips you onto your back and folds you into the floor. Pushes your legs up and locks them around his waist. And as his thrusts deepen, as your hole froths to become creamy with your cum and so much of his, your bodies give together at the same time.
Caleb cradles you to him as he cums first. He cries your name, looking down at you and never breaking your gaze as his cock fills you with final spurts of pleasure. You claw at his arms, nodding up at him and meeting his eyes just the same as he tells you to cum for him, to show him who your body belongs to, and he kisses your forehead as you finally twist beneath him and shower him in slick.
“My pipsqueak,” he murmurs softly, exhausted, but unwilling to pull away from you. You feel his cum drool from out of your hole, slipping down onto the carpet. Closing your eyes, you stroke his hair as he sighs into you, peppering your face in kisses.
“I missed you so much,” he says. He pulls back to look at you, at the mess he’s made of his lover. His pipsqueak, his his his. You’re all his.
“Mm, I can feel it,” you whisper, voice still hoarse from screaming his name. You let him maneuver you onto your side, still connected with him, as he snuggles you into his embrace. He ignores your complaints of being dirty and sweaty. He smells like sex. The scent of his cum dripping forth from inside you hits your nostrils.
“Give me five more minutes with you like this,” he says, and he sounds so sweet and how could you ever, ever tell him no, when throughout all the years he has given you everything you’ve ever wanted without protest, without complaint?
“I’ll be here however long you want, my Caleb,” you whisper into his ear, kissing him there. You feel him blush a bit as you settle into his side, and know just how to tease him further. “My Caleb, my Caleb, my Caleb.”
“Yes,” he says, sighing with content, “Caleb is all yours.”
—
Reblogs are deeply appreciated !!
This whole thang was like a year in the making. I deeply enjoyed writing this. I hope you enjoyed as well, little apple!!
"I don't think Donovan is stupid for trying to raise against immortals. A human, with very limited resources, able to open heaven's portal and let humans to cross over. "Oh, but she kills and do bad stuff!" God forbid a middle-aged woman to have ambition and intelligence. I'm tired of the characteristic of female characters to be maternal and affectionate. Let there be variations! Also let's be honest, the squad and the world wouldn't really survive without her. Hate her or not, Donovan is one of the most prominent and important figure in HSU. "
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18+! MINORS DNI! Smut, fingering, squirting, praises, Bucky being hot.
Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist
IMAGINE being spread out for Bucky to do whatever he pleases. Your legs dangle over his while he leans relaxed with his back against the couch and holds your back tightly against his firm, t-shirt-covered chest.
While Bucky is fully clothed in sweatpants and a shirt, you’re only wearing one of his big hoodies that fits you like a dress.
So, while Bucky enjoys the movie playing on the television, his fingers play with your wet pussy. Tracing up and down your folds, pinching your clit every now and then. His eyes — of course — not really focused on the television but on you, even though he acts all innocent and sweet, like he would love to watch the movie.
When you squirm, he lets go of you, running his hands over your thighs. “Baby doll, we wanna watch that movie, don’t we? Ya squirming so much, can you even focus on it then?”
Idiot! When you settle back into him, he continues his little game until about halfway through the movie. His cock is painfully pressing against his pants and your back, but he’s not satisfied enough to stop playing with you just yet.
A yelp leaves your lips when he suddenly pushes two of his thick fingers into your entrance. He’s holding your legs spread with his, grinning into your neck. His lips trail along your soft skin, leaving soft kisses and bites all over it.
His mouth feels so sweet and tender while his fingers torment your pussy in the best way possible. The filthy, squelching noise mixed with your whimpers and moans fills the room.
“Good girl, such a good girl. Letting me play with you like a good you is supposed to,” he mumbles, his voice low. Bucky curls his fingers deep inside your cunt, groaning when you grab his thighs tightly to ground yourself. “That’s it… there it is. Your sweet spot, huh?”
Your pussy is clenching hard around his fingers, sucking his fingers back in whenever he pulls them out slightly. It earns you a lot of praise from that filthy mouth of your boyfriend.
“Look at my pussy, being so eager. Sucking my fingers in like your filthy mouth does with my cock all the time,” he says with a hoarse voice, his eyes dark and his lips on your neck no longer soft. He’s tugging with his teeth at your skin, leaving dark hickeys on your skin to remind you who you belong to. “Shouldn’t we reward you for being such a sweet and eager girl, shall we?”
Your nod is barely visible when you throw your head back against his shoulder. His fingers kept the steady rhythm. Suddenly you feel the coolness of his metal fingers on your clit, adding more and more pressure before he circles your sensitive bundle of nerves.
Your legs shaking, your back arching when the coil in your stomach tightens until it finally snaps. You're squirting all over his hand — just like he had planned when starting to thrust his digits against your sweet spot.
Bucky uses his metal hand to slap your pussy, causing the liquid to squirt in every direction. Your moans turn into cries when he keeps rubbing your overstimulated pussy.
“Good girl, such a good girl. Look at the mess you just made. Your cum is everywhere, baby doll. But I’m sure you can give me one more,” he praises, plunging another finger into you. You whine, shaking your head, but Bucky knows better. He knows you can give him one more. “Love seeing you squirt for me; can’t even decide if I want to look at your pussy or your face, both so mesmerizing, baby doll.”
So, between more prizes and encouragement to come for him to do exactly that. His name leaves your lips over and over again until he needs to feel you around his thick, leaking cock.
Hello, all! I will be offering my time and effort to show support for citizens and families of Palestine. Me, as well as many other writers, are participating with @ficsforgaza to raise money to offer as much relief and aid to as many people as we can! And I'm honored to be able to put my talents to use as much as I am able.
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❈ OM Characters with MC's head in their lap
A full post with a small drabble of MC falling asleep with their head in the character's laps. Including all the brothers + Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon, and Solomon.
(Character) x Reader, Fluff, Gender Neutral MC.
Current Words: 1.1/ Approx. 9.6k
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❈ Cuddling in bed with him
A full post with headcanons on what sleeping beside the OM characters would be like. Including all the brothers + Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon, and Solomon.
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❈ Dolcissimo (Chapter 1)
Mer!MC and Harpy!Mammon meet against all odds and fall in love despite the rather Romeo and Juliet esque forbidden love.
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❈ Tainted Reflections (Chapter 17)
A darker OM story where the characters plus MC fight several battles and face several deadly challenges to bring the Devildom back to safety.
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❈ Upside Down (Chapter 14)
A fun reverse AU where MC is the demon charged with the responsibility of heading to the Human Realm and watching over the human Morningstars.
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❈ Fundraiser Special: (Bring Me Out of Hiatus!)
There are a few works of mine that have fallen off the radar whether due to lack of interest, or loss in priority. But I figure this is a perfect opportunity to allow those WIPs endlessly collecting dust to rise from their graves and see the light once more!
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: ̗̀➛For the fundraiser, I will also be accepting NSFW drabbles! 18+ only! BUT, if you want a NSFW drabble you MUST first contact me through a DM or the ask box to make sure I agree with the request BEFORE you make a donation. You MUST also have anon off AND an age posted in your bio to confirm your age. After I have given you the all clear, you can follow the regular rules to post your donation.
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I love love love this new event giving us more of a peek into Diavolo's jealous side. I think it's been mentioned in game before, but I can't recall it being so prominent.
The prince of the Devildom just pulling the "Oh we're very busy, bye," and just guiding MC away from anyone who is hogging their attention is very cute. I like to imagine him picking the human up by the shoulders and physically moving them into quieter spaces.
Just thinking of the hint of a pout on his lips as MC focuses on someone else. Or the way his eyes twitch and the nagging yearning in his gut gets worse. He tries to keep his expression as neutral as possible to avoid a scolding from Lucifer or Barbatos about remaining "dignified" in public, but fighting back this new itch is like trying to swim upstream or eat a dish with pickles in it. In other words, essentially impossible.
Yes, he is a spoiled royal and is used to getting nearly everything he desires, but more than that, he spends so much of his time on the outside looking in, and he's hardly able to handle it much longer. Especially not when MC is so close...
He'll spend the day giving people a certain look to make them step back, he'll come up with an excuse to get him and MC to move on, and if there is no convient excuse, he'll make one himself. He'll politely wrap an arm around their back and lead them away from the groups and crowds. He'll purposefully do impressive things to draw MC's eye.
And when they're finally by themselves, he hardly allows them to leave his arms, trying to control himself as he squeezes them. He'll litter their face in kisses and won't be satisfied till he receives a proper princely amount of attention.
Thinking about what would happen if MC started to play this little joke with Mammon. They would ask, "Grimm for a kiss?" And he would sprint over and kiss them, taking the money out of their hand at the same time.
An adorable little inside joke that started off innocently between the two of them.
But now he can't look at money without suddenly thinking of the feeling of their lips against his. He can't pay for anything without immediately thinking of them, of where they are, and if he should get them a matching pair of what he's getting.
Anytime he passes a coin on the streets, he pauses. He used to pick them up and call himself one lucky demon. But nowadays, he almost passes them by, instantly brought to memories of his beloved human and feeling that he would only be luckier if they were by his side at that very moment.
For every transaction he makes, he subconsciously tallies it down in his brain, making sure he gets what he's owed when he's with MC again, completely forgetting the fact that it started out with them owing HIM. But does it even matter anymore?
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Well, I'm ready to watch the Fandom talk about how toxic and horrible Lucifer is, as if this isn't his part where we have to help fix him just the same as all the other brothers. Mammon who got so greedy he broke out in fights and went to claim you, Asmo who literally charmed and controlled his own family and part of the Devildom, Levi who flodded the entire Devildom, and Belphie who planned to fully invest in locking us up and forced his siblings (even Beel) to enter a slothful almost depressed state.
The train scene is not meant to be a romantic happy fun time, it's supposed to make us uncomfortable. Troubles and problems covered up by a smile and showing off is his whole deal! This is his weakness! His struggle with control! He's working so hard to pick things for us/MC and being so overly confident and pompous because the man is panicking! He's sweating, taking any detail and choice into his own hands because he knows if he gives MC free reign that they'll leave him, while giving us the false illusion of choice to keep us complacent.
I'm not defending what he's doing right now because it's very clearly meant to be a shitty and toxic mentality, but I feel like I've not seen anyone hold the other brothers to the same standard as they do with him. (I remember how hot under the collar the fandom got when possessive Mammon took the stage.)
(And isn't that ironic, considering Lucifer is Pride and the Eldest and most of the responsibilities get shoved onto him even in game)
Anyways, this is my small Ted Talk. Luci Lover till I die. Could talk about him for hours. I hope we get to use his Little D to hop into his brain and see how upset he is inside.
