Fanfiction Story Novels & Stories

Alicent’s POV They say it is normal for a person to have some fantasies in their own mind. But I don’t know if this also applies to my fantasy. I was sixteen when I had my first boyfriend. He was cute and charming. Everything seemed perfect but we didn’t last. He was my first in everything. My first kiss, first date, and first fuck. It was a good experience, though. He is somehow a good fucker and he satisfied me. The bad part of it? It awakened something in me that should’ve just kept sleeping.

I felt my pussy contract at his words, grasping at something that wasn’t there yet I desperately craved. “Just focus on the stars, baby.” he licked up and down my neck while his fingers finally parted my folds, finding my clit. He rubbed the bundle of nerves until I shook. I stared up at the ceiling as shooting stars and comets zipped by. I felt myself getting close, as if I could join those heavenly bodies up in the sky.

I rolled over and grabbed my journal from the floor. I told myself I was going to write about what happened today. About how Lane saw through me. About how it made me feel exposed, vulnerable, disgusting. But that’s not what came out. Instead, I wrote a story. A scene. A fantasy. I didn’t even realize what I was doing until I was already halfway through describing how he stood up from his chair in his office , walked right straight to me, and pinned me to the wall. His mouth found mine like he couldn’t hold back anymore. His hands undressed me with a quiet kind of urgency, as he plunges his dick into my pussy.

I just don’t care, because I can do whatever I want to do with him when we’re home. We spent our whole time talking and not attending our first subject at all. (Please don't skip classes!) "Kanna, I have seen a makeup tutorial for a 002 cosplaying. Wanna try it out?" Noni asked. One thing that made me become close to Noni is because she is also a weeb like me. I remember when I found out that she also kept various tarpaulins and pillows of male characters in her room. She really thought that I would find it weird and I would suddenly ignore her! But I also immediately explained to her that I would not be angry because I am also a delusional fan girl. Good thing to have a friend like her but

it was an erotic story ,titled the hot kidnapper) I raise an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in my eyes. I push off from the desk and walk closer, my heels clicking on the floor. “A story, huh? You think you can just walk in here and write a tale for me? How about you show me what you’re made of first? Tell me, what’s your fantasy? What gets you going in the dark?” I lean in, my breath warm against your ear, my large breasts pressing against your arm. (Pushing the paper to you I ask you to read it aloud ,you cheeks turn a faint red as you try to explain you brought the wrong story,I press a finger to your lips shushing you and telling you to read, you read it all)

* The fantasy merged with the comments, one reader painting a scene of Jax returning, finding her like this, phone in one hand, fingers buried in the other, then joining, making her squirt across the keyboard. Her orgasm hit sudden and fierce, back bowing off the bed, a strangled cry escaping as her pussy spasmed, fresh wetness soaking the sheets. She rode it out, reading the flood of shared depravity, each one a spark to her sated but insatiable fire. Panting, Zelda dropped the phone, a wicked smile curving her lips. The tease worked readers hooked, fantasies unleashed in the comments below. Jax had left her marked, but this? This was her claiming the narrative. Drop yours now. What's your

Enemies who fvck like the world is ending. Sex-enemies, that’s exactly what we were. Pure hate-sex in the snow, raw and desperate. I cracked my knuckles, took a long sip of the coffee I’d brought with me, and dove straight in. This story was going to be long, dirty, and dripping with the kind of banter that makes people melt. I typed out the title in bold letters: 'Snowbound Enemies: A Hate-F-ck Holiday'.

The Ghost: The Woman Jamia: ‘Where are you?’ Irina: ‘Starbucks,’ I said. ‘I’m having a burnout staying at home, so I am writing my story here.’ Jamia: ‘Is that a love story?’ Irina: ‘Hmmm, not really, but almost a love story,’ I said and placed the straw trapped between my lips. ‘It’s a sad story, though not tragic.’ Jamia: ‘Uh, I don’t like sad endings,’ she said. ‘What are you drinking?’

It was the end of the day on Friday, and she didn't want me to email them as she shared the iPad with her husband. That weekend my wife was sick, so I had a lot of free time to work on a story for her after I put my kids to bed. It all seemed wrong, but I couldn't help myself. Jenny was intoxicating. Her personality, kindness, and looks. She was so attractive and working together we were talkie and more. I felt she would marry the woman if standings and cheated on my wife. The story was easy to write as it was just the fantasy I had between her and me! I wrote the story, re-read it, modified it, and finally was ready to share it. Reading the story myself was so hard as it was exactly what I

One from a story about a guy I had never even talked to but had seen at a party once. The comments were split. Some people defending the quality of the writing. Others condemning me for writing sexual content as a minor. "This is actually good writing," one comment read. "Problematic subject matter but undeniably skilled prose." "She is SEVENTEEN," another comment responded. "This is not okay regardless of how well written it is." "Plenty of teenage girls write fanfiction like this," someone else argued. "She just had the bad luck of having hers leaked." "Fanfiction about fictional characters is different than writing about real people at your school," another person countered. "That crosses