Novel & Cerita Dirty Fan Fictions

His cock twitched traitorously in his sweatpants. Later that night, after Damien had gone to shower, Elias couldn’t take it anymore. He lay on his bed, hoodie pushed up to his chest, sweatpants shoved down just enough. His hand wrapped around his hard, leaking cock, stroking slowly at first, then faster. His eyes were closed, breath coming in soft, desperate pants. In his mind, it wasn’t some vague fantasy, it was Damien’s strong hands pinning him down, that deep voice growling filthy things into his ear while…

He reached for a toilet paper on his desk and gently wiped his chest and abdomen. The thought made my nipples, still exposed in the cool air, tighten again. I hadn’t had dirty thoughts about a man other than Nathan. I certainly hadn’t ever had phone sex with anyone besides him. I felt both aroused and ashamed.

“Some stories, yeah. But they’re, um… dirty.” She leaned in a little closer. “I like a good dirty story. Ping them over to me will you when you get a chance?” Like hell I would. My next words were barely a whisper. “If I’m not fired and shamed all the way to Hell before the day is done.” She laughed out loud. “Even Mr Douglas isn’t going to fire you for writing some dirty fantasies. He can hardly be offended by a bit of filth. He’ll probably take a copy for later.”

“Power requires witness. Fertility requires sacrifice. And because I want them to see exactly who this perfect young body belongs to now.” He pressed two fingers harder against my clit, rubbing in tight circles until my legs trembled. I grabbed his suit jacket to stay upright. “You’re already dripping for it, aren’t you?” His voice dropped even lower. “My filthy little niece. Been touching yourself thinking about your uncle’s cock while your father was dying downstairs. Such a dirty girl.” A broken moan escaped me. I was so close again right there on the edge from nothing but his hand and his filthy words. Darius suddenly pulled his hand away. I nearly cried at the loss.

One or two just… flickered, as if the system didn’t know whether to mark them as alive or dead. I’d written maybe two chapters of “Bone City” before abandoning it for Neon City fanfic. “Ghosts in the Vents” was three lines of an idea in a sticky note app. “Dead Girls Don’t Trend” had been a half‑drunk rant to a friend that never made it past the message window. They were all here. On my grave. My throat closed. Behind me, the soft shuffle and rustle of boots on paper told me the others were moving, fanning out, discovering their own stones.

While you're at it, you can check out my other profile @KinahFeels. I also write there, and if you're fan of romance, adventure, African fiction, etc, you'll find them there! I'd really really appreciate if you could check my books out. Thanks in advance. 1. BABY'S DADDY (pregnancy-romance) 2 HER DILEMMA (erotica) 3. ALACRIMIA (General fiction) 4. ON AIR (pregnancy-romance)

Chapter 1 My fingers hovered over the send button longer than they should have. The thesis chapter looked perfect; tight analysis on Victorian repression and hidden longing but exhaustion had made me careless. I’d attached the wrong document from my desktop, the one I swore no one would ever see. My private journal. The raw late-night fantasies I poured out after Professor Brandy’s lectures, when his voice still echoed in my head like smoke. I hit send anyway. It was midnight and it was too late to fix it.

"You are a monster. A manipulative monster." Damien let out a low chuckle that made my skin crawl. He walked back over to the edge of the bed, towering over me, and I could smell the expensive tobacco and the smell of our previous lovemaking on our bodies. "You want a confession, Sophia? Fine," he murmured, leaning down until his face was inches from mine. His grey eyes looked so terrifying now. "I have fantasized about you over ever since you started working for me. I have stared at your mouth during board meetings wondering how loud you would scream if I bit your lip. I bought this hotel suite knowing damn well there was only one bed."

Sanctum of Flesh, Citadel of Eldros The doors sealed behind Lies with a heavy, moaning groan of ancient stone making her flinch. The sanctum pulsed with heat and silence—a silence thick enough to wrap around her thighs and crawl up between them. It wasn't just warm. The air was humid, saturated with something older than scent: magic steeped in lust, pressure, hunger. The walls themselves dripped faintly with condensation, like the stone was sweating in anticipation.

Deliberately forgot, but that's hardly the point. I grind my pussy against his hardness as he swipes my hair to one side. He buries his face in my exposed neck and takes a long sniff. "You smell like a real-life wet dream." Real-life wet dream? I laugh at my vivid imagination. Tens of women at work drool over Rhys Redmond, but I must be the only one filling up pages with fantasies of things that will never happen. If this doesn’t get me checked into a mental facility, nothing will.