Fantasi Novels & Stories

There was a cooling sensation wherever their skin touched. Lucas opened his eyes and looked down at his mate. Her breasts were small and perky, her nipples rosy bursts of colour on her porcelain skin. Her stomach was flat, almost concave, and there was a smattering of small scars which his eyes seemed to graze over. Her thighs were long alabaster columns, joining to form round, womanly hips. Thank goodness her underwear was still on. She was so small, so fragile looking, Lucas was scared he would break her.

“Fine. Talk.” Taiga’s hand swept across the papers, finding the ones he’d been buried in all night. His voice steadied with purpose. “I stayed up all night studying. And I came to a conclusion. What if they were a pack? Rei, Dante, kouji… and Maya.” The name caught in his throat, hesitation bleeding into his voice. “That’s ridiculous,” Tatsuya scoffed. “Enigmas can’t form a pack.” “Pay attention in Biology and PE, Tatsuya.” Taiga rolled his eyes, a hint of the old brotherly bite returning. “Enigmas can form something similar. Not a pack, but a PACT.”

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.

the creamy ice flavor that melted on my tongue was heavenly, "Mmm" for a moment I forgot I was seated with Rayan who stared at me with a smile on his face. "You remind me of someone," he said "Who?" "Someone very special" he whispered as he stared at the table "She was very special" he mumbled I looked at him wondering who he was talking about, I was about to talk when he instantly spoke "What’s your biggest fear?" Why does he like to say odd things? I tapped my chin for a moment before I responded "Losing Khalil"

She scoured ancient texts and scrolls, searching for any hint of forgotten power or hidden strength. Hours passed, and Lola's eyes burned from reading by candlelight. Just as she was about to give up, she stumbled upon a dusty, leather-bound tome. The title faded, but she could make out the words "Beast of Gévaudan." Her heart raced as she flipped through the pages, reading about an ancient and powerful creature that once terrorized the lands. The spells within promised immense strength and near invincibility, but they also carried dire warnings of the cost.

Each was a florid fantasy, not viewed as a tale, but lived in him. He was always the main character, distinguished and adventurous, an illusion of splendor he supposed. Cavin likes them that way, it is much better than ordinary life. So if the thoughts of an insane journey still come, how was he to say he was cured? When even in a precarious voyage of the supernatural, here he was risking his life again. A true fantasy is a fixed mistaken notion that gains traction, like a wheel of a wagon on the road, it propels a person in different paths, often unpredictable and toward catastrophe.

With each step they take, they draw closer to the heart of the mystery, and the line that separates reality from fantasy becomes ever thinner. The visions persist, their spell unbroken a tapestry of enchantment woven into the new character's consciousness. Intrigue dances like firelight in their eyes, igniting a thirst for understanding that cannot be quenched. Their thoughts are consumed by the images that have taken root, a symphony of colors and shapes that defy logic. The call of curiosity is too strong to resist, and they find themselves drawn into a quest that transcends the boundaries of their everyday life.

Nor had she ever seen such an eclectic collection of oddities. She picked up a pair of boots, vinyl, with a huge, plastic zipper. A vague memory of a porn film she had accidentally flipped on one late night flashed through her mind. Dominatrix, she believed it was called. She dropped the boots and sank onto a little bench sitting against the wall across from the racks of costumes. Fantasies. She had never had a sexual fantasy. All her sexual thoughts had always centered on Steve and their quiet sex life. All she had ever wanted was his hands on her, his lips telling her the things she wanted to hear.

Do you fancy a son or a daughter? 'One of each would be lovely.' 'Twins?' Jasmine asked. Favour laughed. 'I hope not. Just one at a time but in any order. Boy or girl...it doesn't matter.' Such blissful carefree plans, Jasmine thought. A mountainous wave of envy hit Jasmine and she shrugged to fight through it as her younger sister rattled on about her ideal family. It wasn't Favour's fault that her own life was in such a mess. She seemed to get herself embroiled in one bad choice after another; holding on to Robert when he wasn't worth holding on to, and now Collins...had she no sense of when to let go? Did fantasy have a bigger grip on her than reality?