Fanfic Writing Prompts Novels & Stories

Her pussy glistened with arousal, lips puffy and twitching, clit already begging. She whimpered. Then something touched her. A warm enchanted tendril ran along the folds of her cunt. Not rough nor gentle but curious. “So wet already,” he murmured. “You’re aching to be used. Do you fantasize about being forced, little acolyte? Being taken on the altar while your sisters pray above?” “Stop it—gods, stop—” Another tendril flicked her clit. She jerked violently. Her mouth opened in a moan before she could stop it.

with articles and photos of themselves. In one area was a Fantasy posting board. It had pages of computer paper stuck up there in several categories. Each page had a brief— or sometimes really detailed fantasy— and then a person’s name at the bottom. Most of them had either a photo or a phone number as well. It was obvious that if you read a fantasy that really turned you on, these folks were inviting you to drop them a line— perhaps to enact that same fantasy. There were several that only increased the hardness of my cock that was straining against my shorts. And Carrie wasn’t helping matters at all with her bust pressed against my back. She was looking over my shoulder at the same wall and

She was tall with curly, jet-black hair, and smooth hazelnut colored skin. “Same dream?” she asked. “Yea. This must mean something,” I responded. “How are you holding up on... you know what?” “I'm okay for now, I think.” So, I'm a vampire. One of the last ones remaining. One is my girlfriend who I turned just because she asked me to, which I admit wasn’t the greatest idea. The other is the person that keeps appearing in my dreams. Being a vampire comes with a ton of benefits like enhanced speed, strength, healing, and senses. However, there's a major drawback, especially for a new vampire like Janea. The uncontrollable craving for blood.

“Yesterday, today, tomorrow, the next day and till the end of our lives, till our next reincarnation. I will love you, cherish you, put you first, and be with you. Zane Fangs, or whatever your nay may become in the future. Will you marry me?” TBC Maple Writes (Don't forget to leave a comment, share and give me reviews for me to know if there are things that I should improve with and change at the same time. Have a good day. Enjoy reading.)

Ever since the incident went viral, fictional stories written by fans appeared in rapid succession. "Please write one where they're both high school students! Since you can write well, please write as much as you can!" "The exams are over now. When are you going to do a live stream, Madam? Will you feature Mr. Fordham as well? If the two of you appear together, I'm really going to send you a gift this time!" "This is more entertaining than romance novels. Those who called Madam a vixen are all soggy-ass cucumbers!"

"Another one? Emma, this guy sounds... he sounds obsessed. He’s talking about 'ten minutes.' And 'Rose'?" "It’s just a creep, Han," I said, my voice gaining a steady, rehearsed quality. I looked at the message and rolled my eyes, though my heart was still trying to punch its way out of my chest. "I’ve been getting these for weeks. I think my number got leaked in one of those writer group chats or a promo list. Some guys think that because I write romance, I’m an open invitation for their fan-fiction fantasies." "But he sounds so... specific," Hannah whispered, her gaze still fixed on the phone.

Honestly, I want to make him die so the story will end once and for all and I can go on writing an R18 novel, yet I always end up getting some bizarre ideas to continue this bizarre story. He then strokes her beautiful back layered in the red dress of hers gently. Wait, why the writing style is like the one in the R18 novel?! She then helps him get up. “Fight then, hun. If that’s what you want.” She holds both of his hands tightly. ”But promise me to stay alive, okay?” She smiles at him. “Your Highness,” Pukan said. Alfi averts his gaze to Pukan and says, ”What is it?”

I pick up my pen and begin to write. “He kissed her like a promise, but she knew better than to believe in promises from a man who wore secrets like armor…” The words come easier than I expect, flowing from my pen as if my heart's bleeding into the paper. I write about longing, about cold stares that mask burning desire, and the fragile hands that still try to reach over them. Each sentence feels like I’m writing pieces of myself, like Lila and her mysterious male lead are more real than anything around me.

“Jesus, Sunflower, you are and will always be the most beautiful woman in the world. You’re so strong. I am in awe of you. There will never be a time that I don't want you.” “But what if… Fang, what if I never want sex again? What if I can't? What if I freak out when you try to touch me? I can't ask you to live like that.” “Gypsy, none of us know the future. All I know is that I want you in mine. If it takes you six months or six years, I don't care. I will be here waiting for you if and when you are ready.” “Fang, you can’t mean that. It’s not fair on you.”

“I make bold promises because I have bold intentions. Now's your turn. Start by telling me what those fantasies are.” My heart stutters, “What?”