Fiction Addiction Novels & Stories

"Drugs damage the body...so the most common method...is going to certain clubs or bars. Engaging in...intimate physical acts. If an Awakener suppresses their primal desires for too long, the built-up tension causes them to Fall." I stare at him. Intimate acts? You mean sex. The cure for madness in this world is literally having a good time in bed. I almost laugh out loud. Of course it is. I transmigrated into a dark fantasy smut novel. The entire world-building, the entire magic system, exists solely to justify the characters engaging in sex.

I was once again forced to speak to the man who broke my heart into a million pieces… I stopped writing and frowned at my words. I shook my head and deleted it. I don’t want to write yet another post about Brian. I thought about something Joseph had said on the first day of class and I started to grow inspired. Trying again I wrote: What is fiction? What defines fiction? Does it count as fiction if you’ve never seen something? Just because you’ve never seen a unicorn, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. It just means you’ve never seen it. The idea that there could be otherworldly creatures living amongst us is crazy to me because it’s always seemed like such fiction. But as I grow older, and I ex

She thought that Damon, being a highly intelligent and suspicious person, would easily detect any deception if even her pregnancy were faked. Damon never suspected the truth, primarily because he retained manipulated memories! Fiona had administered a drug to Damon that induced sexual hallucinations. Everything was a lie! Her decision to no longer practice medicine was directly related to this incident. During the process of "saving" Damon, freezing his emotions and using hallucinogenic drugs to induce false sensations of love could have disastrously exposed her, potentially ruining her career. Fiona could be banned from practicing medicine for life. She chose to leave, hoping that the incid

I thought that I calmed down a little, so I wanted to use at least a tiny ounce of creativity to write another chapter of my novel. As soon as I turned on my computer I was flooded with thoughts about Tom again… I couldn't escape from the fact that I based my main character on him, and now my imagination was clouded by the impression he imprinted on me. Although, the words came quickly I felt almost agonizing pain every time I wrote about my male lead. Today, it was impossible for me to separate the fiction I created and reality I was facing. I drank the whole bottle and became unable to write any more useful sentences. I chose to turn on the tv and switched to the most brainless program I c

Leaving personal matters within, I shot back, "You are living your life your way, aren't you? Then why can't I? Stop interfering in my personal life." Damien uttered glaring at me, "Don’t you dare to question my life, Ms. McBride. By any chance, if you are telling me to be loyal to you because you are my fiancee then put a thing in your mind that YOU are my fake fiancee. Fake. And I don’t have the useless wish to interfere in your so-called personal life. But unlike you, I have a reputation that will get hampered if you continue falling into a stranger's arms like last night. I won't like the news about my fiancee stepping out from a stranger's place in the early morning or roaming with some

"And what's your connection to Pauline?" Jessica pressed. "Why does she label you her fiancé? Answer me!" Her accusations dripped with grievance and betrayal, as if she were the innocent victim ensnared and wounded. Only a heartless person like her could conveniently forget her own protracted ruse of feigned paralysis. I was disgusted with Jessica's duplicity. The pain and humiliation I had suffered from evaporated, replaced by stark lucidity.

Wild Addiction volume 2. I never knew true addiction until I met her. I never truly understood what it is to crave, mind, body, and soul—until nothing mattered but fulfilling that craving. Until the only thing that mattered was easing the hollow space inside me. It was there whenever we’re apart. Like a dark hole, it lingered, intensifying until my mind was full of dark spots. Until my mind was full of easy curves, bare before me. Until my desires reflected her, bending at the waist, her pert, little arse in the air, colored red by my palm, the outline of my fingers visible against her pale skin.

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 gather facts more than a reporter, search more than a detective. I take out my phone and open the browser. The internet is full of information. I am sure I can find one about this mysterious Mr. Fiction; I tell myself as I type on the g****e search bar. I feel the hesitation linger with doubt starts clouding my mind. What if I am not ready to find out about him? What if it is not something I am prepared for?

You enjoy the fluff, get your panties wet during the snu-snu moments, and fantasize about things that only happen in fiction. 'You like to read these crappy books because you want to fantasize about the things that you can never have. These books make up for your boring reality. These books have twisted your expectations of a real man. You drool over fictional characters but you won't look at a real man,' My younger brother had chastised me once, 'and these authors make your wallet thinner by manipulating your mindset and making you addicted.'