Fanfictionnet Novels & Stories

"I could stop if you like." "N-no, don't stop. The Consensus is the group mind of everyone. Oh that's good... It's what k-keeps us h-honest." "In what way?" "Well it tends to keep the r-real world c-consistent. Stops us s-stealing stuff... that kind of th-th-thing, oh god I'm going to..." Her back arched and he felt her vaginal muscles clamp down on him. She thrashed uncontrollably against her bonds for a minute or so, and then lay still.

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

It was a ridiculous, cliché thought, but the logic in my brain had long since been replaced by a primal, scratching need. Back in my room, I pushed myself to the limit. I got on my knees, my back arched and my head buried in the sheets. I closed my eyes and let my mind wander to the one place it shouldn't go. I pictured Cassian. I pictured his heavy weight pinning me down, his large hands bruising my hips, and the way his grey eyes turned dark when he looked at me. I imagined him filling me until I couldn't breathe.

My fingers found my clit—already slick, already begging—and the first slow circle made my back arch so hard water sloshed over the edge. “Oh God,” I whispered, even though I knew it was the wrong name to say. I stroked faster. Two fingers sliding over and around my clit while my other hand came up to pinch my nipple the way I imagined he might. The water made everything slippery, louder. I slipped one finger inside myself, then two, curling them the way I’d done every morning for weeks. My hips rocked up to meet my hand. The fantasy took over completely—Father Chris’s voice in my ear, his breath hot against my neck, his fingers replacing mine, thicker, surer, pressing that spot that made sta

I’d deleted the account ages back. Or hadn’t I? I couldn’t remember. “How the hell–” “Doesn’t matter anyway,” she gave a smug grin, satisfied with the reaction she’d gotten from me. She sat up, the sheets pooling down to her waist, revealing her bare tits which were still flushed from earlier. “I’ve fantasized about it. About you tying me up and hurting me just enough, making me scream your name in tears as you make me come so hard I forget your name.” I stared at her. Twenty one today. Spencer’s little girl and she was already asking for the side of me I’d buried because it was too dark, too risky, way too much to explain to anyone; especially not the daughter of my best friend.

Please, support this support author. And also, if you're looking for something else to read, check out my profile, Fated to the Demon alpha, My Dad's Friend, Internal Sin. You will definitely like them as well. Thanks again. Hope to see you in my next book. With love, Diana Matthew

Genre: Explicit Steamy Fantasy Romance | Dragon Shifter | Dark Romance | Delayed Pleasure | Sex Toys Characters: Ziaanat: A headstrong, curious mortal woman with dragon blood she doesn’t know about. Tovian: The unhinged, brooding Dragon King, tormented by centuries of hunger, lust, and a prophecy that names Ziaanat as his only release. . .

The group chat had been buzzing for weeks: six authors, all women in their late twenties to early thirties, finally coordinating an in-person meetup after years of online collaboration. They’d been workshopping an anthology of interconnected erotica stories—steamy, character-driven pieces that blurred lines between desire, power, and vulnerability. Zainab had been the quietest in the group, always thoughtful with her feedback, never flashy, but when the venue discussion stalled (hotels too expensive, coffee shops too public), she typed the offer without overthinking it.

Ezra had noticed this yet he fell hard for him. The problem was, Kendall only ever treated him like a bro. A roommate. A guy you'd share instant noodles with at midnight, borrow ten bucks or a benjamin from, a guy he'd occasionally elbow in the ribs during late-night Dirt 5 gaming sessions. Ezra got Kendall's attention sure—but never in the way he wanted. Kendall saw him only as plain, ordinary, Ezra. So, Ezra had done something stupid. Something very reckless. He’d created Maya—a female catfish Winstagram account, with photoshopped pictures of a Brunette girl from Stock photos. He had replied Kendall's story about Kafka being possibly better than Dostoyevsky.

I asked. He looked at me and rolled his eyes, “Three months, perhaps.” He answered. “You have the worse luck getting sex, now Anna is going to date you, but won’t let you touch her.” I said. “That’s hilarious.” I added. He turned facing the ceiling, he laughed “You’re crazy” he said to me. “I could get sex if I want, I could get down with any girl in a club if I ever wanted.” “You have been sex-starved Andy. How about we do it together?” I said looking at his face “It won’t be weird, we have known each other for long, its better hooking up with a stranger just to get pleasure.”