Dream Fanfiction Novels & Stories

Until dawn crept through the curtains. Until the package arrived. Until tomorrow became today. And the fantasy The forbidden, addictive, all-consuming fantasy Became forever. Fade out on the snow. On two new passports lying open on the dresser. On two gold bands glinting in the wea k morning light. On her moan soft, satisfied as he whispered against her skin: “The fantasy never has to end.”

"Does it even matter now? Even if I were healthy, I never would have lasted long enough for you to finally turn around and look at me. I overheard your friends talking. Apparently, I wasn't even someone you'd be willing to settle for. I used to think we'd actually make it to the end." A strand of hair slipped from behind my ear. I turned my face away so he wouldn't see my tearful eyes. "The moment you slipped that ring on another woman's finger in the wedding I had dreamed of a thousand times, we're finished. You're not the same Jason whom I love, the one willing to stop for me anymore. You're selfish and blind. You're not the same person I once loved." The last few words were barely above a

Damian growled from behind me, but I just kept walking. Unpacking was tense. Damian was fuming the entire time, actually pouting like a brat. It was annoyingly cute. Guess I’d have to use that nickname more often if it brought out this side of him. Once I finished, I took a quick shower and settled on the couch in the living room with my laptop. I needed to write something, my fans had been waiting too long and the comments were getting restless. But the words wouldn’t come. My brain was too full of angry hockey captain and complicated family drama.

Because Dante wasn’t even on top of me. Fuck! So it was just a fucking dream. But what kind of dream is this? Why the hell out of all possible dreams should I be dreaming about getting fucked by the one person I definitely shouldn’t want? Why? Because honestly, getting fucked by my ex-girlfriend's uncle would be the most forbidden thing I've ever done. And how much could I have been craving this sex to have dreamed about it so vividly, to the point of almost feeling like I was being penetrated? The thought had barely settled in my head when Dante’s voice rang out again from beside the bed;

“Including the darkest one. The non-con fantasy where I chase you… catch you… and force my cock into my own daughter-in-law while she begs her father-in-law to stop.” My thighs pressed together instinctively. My clit throbbed painfully at his words. That particular fantasy had always been my most shameful—the one I wrote at nineteen with trembling fingers and a soaked pussy, imagining Victor as my forbidden father-in-law taking me against my will. Victor’s piercing green eyes darkened as he read the raw need flickering across my flushed face.

I just spread my legs wide, pushed the toy inside myself in one slow thrust, and started fucking myself the way I’d imagined him fucking me for four years. I was already soaked. The toy slid in with a filthy wet sound. I moaned soft and broken, hips rolling, two fingers of my free hand circling my clit in tight little circles. I kept my eyes on the cracked door the entire time, half hoping, half terrified. I didn’t expect him to actually open it. The floorboard outside my door creaked. My eyes flew open. The door pushed open another three inches. Daniel stood there in the doorway, still fully dressed in the dress shirt and slacks, but his eyes were black with hunger. He didn’t look surprised

The kind of panic that made me want to set fire to the world, only to sift through the ashes for what was lost. Perched on a sofa clearly not meant for someone my size, I fanned through one of the thousands of books the male, Dain, had sent to the suite. Half of these tomes read like textbooks, while the others were packed with fiction and myth. There was no way of sorting between what might be real, and what might’ve been the illusive dreams of some ancient, long deceased scholar. I’d been seconds away from voicing as much when I heard a breathy little whimper, not unlike the one’s my mate had mate last night, sound from across the room.

Maera The night was short. I kept having these dreams. Ever since I touched Lord Fenrik’s shoulder, something in me changed. I kept seeing blood. A knife. And Lord Korran is lying on the floor. Then I would wake up just to go back to the same dream. The last one had awakened me to a fully bright day. “Goddess! Am I going crazy,” I said to myself. My head pounded. My throat felt sore. I touched where he had wrapped his hand and wrinkled at the discomfort.

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.

. He asks about you a lot. He used to make up stories. He told the kids at school his dad was a spy. Or an astronaut." Damian closed his eyes. "An astronaut." "Better than an Alpha," I said. "Less paperwork." Damian looked at me then. The firelight danced in his hazel eyes, illuminating the pain and the love swirling there. "I will spend the rest of my life making it up to him," Damian vowed. "And to you." He stood up and walked over to my chair. He held out his hand. "Come here," he said. I took his hand. He pulled me up, but instead of leading me to the sofa, he pulled me against his chest. His arms wrapped around me, solid and warm. He buried his face in my hair, inhaling deeply. "You sme