#quote prompt

[luna-azzurra]

[promptlyprompting]

"Come home, please? Everybody misses you." 

"Bullshit." 

"Okay, fine. I miss you. But that has to count for something, right?" 

[sorawritesstuff]

[whygodohgodwhy]

Conversation Prompt

“I don’t know how to be happy being who I am, but I’ll give it a shot. For you.”

“How about for yourself?”

“I’m not much of a fan of that guy. I’d rather not.”

[ramen-writes]

"You possess magic? What kind"

"I hold control over all life and growth"

"wha- you're jesting, right? You possess magic that powerful and you're a farmer"

"Yes I am. I get crops here that the villagers can't have. It was a sad barren land. But look how it thrives now"

"It's... It's beautiful, it really is... but you're so powerful why be a farmer when you could be-"

"A mage? A hero? Some knight? No, I think I prefer this"

"Why? You could help so many"

"Why would I need to fight for some title to help the same people I can help while working my humble farm?"

"..."

"Why be a knight when the people need a farmer?"

[tadej-pogacar]

'i am just... in love' random prompts. adapt as you wish.

"I've waited so long just to hear you say those words. Did you mean them?"

"Every time I see you, it's like a piece of me aches for something I can't have."

"I don't want to just be your friend anymore... I want to be so much more."

"Every time you smile at me, I wish I could tell you how much it means."

"I know I shouldn't feel this way, but I can't help it... I want you."

"Do you ever think about what it would be like if we were together?"

"I tell myself I'm over you, but every time I see you, my heart disagrees."

"It hurts to want you this much when I know you don't feel the same."

"I keep dreaming about us, and every morning, it feels like I've lost you all over again."

"When you look at me like that, I start to believe that maybe... just maybe, you could love me too."

"I've tried to move on, but no one else makes me feel the way you do."

"I wish I could just reach out and hold your hand, but I'm scared you'd pull away."

"What if I told you I've been in love with you for years?"

"You have no idea how much I want to be the reason behind your smile."

"Every song, every sunset, it all just reminds me of you."

"I see the way you look at them... I wish you'd look at me like that."

"I keep telling myself to let go, but my heart just won't listen."

"Is it crazy that I want to spend every moment with you, even if you don't feel the same?"

"The hardest part is pretending I don't care when I'm dying to be with you."

"I don't need you to love me back, I just needed you to know that I do."

[contentmusings]

⛈ the storm started outside — dialogue prompts! adapt as needed and if you want to share your creations with us, check our rules first 💫

— ‘do we really need all these candles, or are you just nervous?’

— ‘the power’s out.’

— ‘tell me again where the flashlight is; I don’t trust the dark.’

— ‘is that the wind, or did something hit the house?’

— ‘you’re pretending to be calm, but your hands are saying otherwise.’

— ‘if the storm gets worse, where do we go?’

— ‘you double-checked the windows, right?’

— ‘do you think we should have got some sandbags?’

— ‘well, we’re stuck inside until this passes.’

— ‘you’re counting the seconds between thunder and lightning; that’s sweet.’

— ‘i actually like storms. Do you?’

— ‘you’re not supposed to be by the window.’

— ‘why are you watching the lightning?’

— ‘get the buckets, it’s raining inside’

— ‘don’t go outside! are you trying to get hurt?’

— ‘the roof is holding… for now.’

— ‘that wasn’t thunder, that was something breaking.’

— ‘if the road floods, we’re stuck here.’

— ‘we’re not sleeping through this, are we?’

— ‘stop pretending this doesn’t scare you.’

— ‘if the power goes out, stay close.’

— ‘tell me we’re going to be okay.’

— ‘you don’t have to be brave right now.’

— ‘we have food, and we just need to move higher! we’re going to be okay.’

— ‘just… be calm, have the flashlight handy, and let’s try to protect ourselves best way we can.’

[edawgz]

↬ "I know I shouldn't feel this way, but I can't help it... I want you." With Tangerine? A smutty oneeee. Reader probably knowing about his profession, shouldn’t be into him but how can she not be bc look at him-

ᝰ.ᐟ CAN'T HELP MYSELF

𖦹ׂ ₊˚⊹⋆ tangerine x afab. reader. ( bullet train). ~800 words.

❚ ❙ ❘ flirty. sexual tension. innuendoes. smut. forbidden vibe. i love writing tangerine.

: ̗̀➛ You knew what he was. You knew what he did. You knew you should stay away. But when it came to Tangerine, logic never stood a chance against the heat in your chest and the ache he left behind.

❚ this is SUCHHH a scrumptious idea i love it, i fear he would make me ALSO forget all of my better judgement. TYYYY ANONNN this was so fun to write i hope you enjoy!

| masterlist. | atj collection. |

You knew he was dangerous before you ever let him through the door. You knew it in the way he carried himself -- shoulders squared like the weight of the world was just another chore, voice wrapped in a drawl that could cut or soothe depending on how much blood was on his hands that night. And there was always blood... sometimes it was still wet on his knuckles, sometimes dried on his collar like he’d forgotten to scrub the ghosts away. You knew, yet still, when his knock came -- sharp and familiar against your apartment door at half-past two in the morning -- you opened it like a fool.

He leaned against the frame, smug and disheveled, with his curls damp with rain or sweat or both, and the bruise along his jaw stark under the hallway light.

“Gonna invite me in, darling?” he asked, voice low, lips twitching into something that wasn’t quite a smile but still managed to make your heart skip. You didn’t answer, you just stepped aside with your eyes locked on him.

He didn’t wait for permission to touch. He never did. His coat hit the floor somewhere behind him, boots dragged off in clumsy kicks, hands already cradling your face with a kind of tenderness that didn’t match the man, not really. You hated how soft it made you, you hated how easily you tilted your chin up to meet his mouth like you hadn’t promised yourself the last time would be the last. His kiss was heat and smoke and something rougher than need. It was possession, a claim that he never said aloud but pressed into your skin over and over again.

“You smell like gunpowder,” you murmured when he finally let you breathe.

He grinned, teeth flashing, eyes gleaming with something hungry. “Better than the bastard I left bleeding in a stairwell.”

You should’ve pushed him away, told him to leave, and reminded him you weren’t part of that world -- that you didn’t want to be. But your fingers curled into his shirt, dragging him closer until your body answered for you. You wanted him, God help you, you needed him.

He pressed you against the wall, slow but firm, like he knew the exact amount of pressure that would drive you mad. His hands slid under your shirt, knuckles grazing up your ribs with infuriating patience, lips dragging along your neck, warm and open-mouthed. “Say it,” he murmured.

You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, but he nipped at your throat, tongue chasing after the sting, and your resistance crumbled.

“I know I shouldn’t feel this way,” you whispered, breath catching as his fingers found the waistband of your pants. “But I can’t help it… I want you.”

He stilled -- just for a moment -- then he laughed, low and almost mean, but there was something behind it.. something jagged. “Yeah? You think I don’t wake up wantin’ you so bad it fucking hurts?”

His hand slipped into your pants, touch skilled and devastating. Your head hit the wall with a soft thud as he worked you open with the kind of focus he usually reserved for targets. “You think I don’t lie there,” he continued, breath hot against your ear, “staring at the ceiling and wondering why the fuck someone like you wants someone like me?”

You reached down, undoing his belt, fingers fumbling slightly from the pace he’d set, and he growled when you freed him, hips jerking against your palm. “Because you make it impossible not to,” you said, voice shaking. “Because I know I shouldn’t, and I still do.”

He kissed you again, all tongue and teeth, like he was trying to crawl inside you. You didn’t stop him, you sure as hell wouldn’t, especially not when he turned you around, not when he bent you over the kitchen counter and pushed your clothes aside like he couldn’t wait a second longer, not when he finally slid inside you with a hiss that scraped low in his throat.

It wasn’t slow. It never was. Yet, there was something almost needy in the way he held your hips, in the way his mouth pressed kisses along your spine between thrusts, in the way he whispered your name like a prayer -- or a plea. He wasn’t a soft men, but in those moments, when your bodies moved in rhythm and your walls came down, he let you see the version of him no one else did. The one who needed and the one who burned.

“Fuck, you feel like home,” he rasped against your shoulder, one hand tangled in your hair now, the other tightening around your waist. “Don’t care if I’m bad for you. Don’t care if I’m the worst fuckin’ idea you ever had. You’re mine.”

You wanted to argue and remind him that this wasn’t love, that it couldn’t be. But then he hit that spot just right and you shattered around him, voice breaking on his name, body trembling under the weight of it. And when he followed, groaning into the crook of your neck like it physically hurt to let go, you knew -- logic be damned -- you’d let him ruin you all over again.

After, he didn’t pull away, he just rested there for a moment, breath still ragged, arms wrapped around you like he could keep the world out for a little longer.

You didn’t say anything. Neither did he. But when his hand found yours and your fingers laced together on instinct, you knew neither of you really regretted a damn thing.