Novelas y relatos de Fanficiton

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It's all a fantasy. Fable has been my escape. An unhealthy one. A safe pretend world where I could bury myself. Just like how Zee cried after she finished the final Harry Potter book, or how Jamie bases so much of her worth on the fictional version of herself that lives across a thousand Instagram pics, in the comments and likes of a thousand strangers. Just carefully constructed lies to comfort and lull. Dreams.

The invitation arrived in a plain black envelope, no return address, slipped under her apartment door like a secret. Inside: a single heavy card, embossed in silver. Velvet Rope Society Saturday, 11 p.m. One night. One rule: everything is consensual. Bring only your desire. Lila had heard whispers about the club—exclusive, hidden somewhere beneath the city, a place where the wealthy and the wicked gathered to buy and sell pleasure. She’d always told herself it was myth. Fantasy fodder for late-night scrolling.

My pussy clamped down hard on the dildo. No. Stop. That's wrong. But my body didn't listen. The fantasy twisted; Sebastian’s hands instead of Marcus’s, his younger, harder thrusts, his voice younger and rougher while calling me something dirty while mom slept in the next room. Forbidden. Slick and hot. I fucked myself faster. Harder. The vibrator mashed against my clit until stars burst behind my eyelids. “I'm gonna come…fuck daddy… I’m gonna squirt thinking about you…” I didn't say whose name. Didn't want to know.

Stacy left our home after having breakfast, I left for school with a friend, Sarah. I have known Sarah for years, she’s a beautiful redhead, has blue eyes and she’s petite. We became very close on my Eighteenth birthday, she taught me the art of touching myself, made me make a move and fucked a senior. She’s a very kind soul though, she’s my best friend. At school during breaks, Sarah made me tell her everything in detail, at first I only told her I happened to kiss him and she could tell I was withholding more details. So I spilled the tea.

I felt stupid enough to apologize to him tomorrow and bring him a cookie. A flood of nonsense hit first: roleplay forums; romance book rec lists that looked suspiciously like my browsing history from lonely winters; wikis that read like teenagers high on Mountain Dew had built them at three in the morning. I dug harder, forcing my way past fanfic to the kind of folklore sites with ugly fonts and long paragraphs.

How can we put an end to this if we don’t stay away from each other? We were not in any kind of relationship, but when I write my diary entry that night, it feels like I’ve been jilted. I strike through the whole entry, determined not to let him mar my sexy fantasies. Just because I stopped acting on these fantasies doesn’t mean I can’t write them. This time, I’m writing from experience. When Rhys touches me in my fantasies, I feel his touch as though it were real, the scent of his skin when he embraces me so unadulterated that the lines between imagination and reality start to blur.

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When I got to my office, I panicked. I sat down on my office chair and saw a spider walked towards a notebook on my table. I grabbed the notebook quickly and bravely slammed the notebook over the spider. The spider decimated which created a gross goggly look on my table. I grabbed a tissue and wiped the spider with it and dismissed it into a garbage can. By the time I was done, I sat back down and contemplated how Alpha Nate's wound seemed to have healed overnight. It was crazy. Alpha Nate's POV