It Fan Fiction Novels & Stories

“Well, you know that you’re the one that he fantasizes about. That’s why he wouldn’t look at you.” Daniela smiled. “I know.” I stared at her, surprised. “And here I thought you were all innocent. Have you been doing something you shouldn’t be, Berni?” She rolled her eyes. “I’m a teenage girl. I read. Romance novels, fanfiction. If it’s got smut, I’m there.” I raised an eyebrow. “What about porn?” Daniela made a face. “No. Porn’s too awkward. I need a little fantasy. I can’t just watch stuff like that, you know.”

The smell hit me hard, and my clumsy attempts to chug it simply made me choke and cough violently. Once I was tipsy, I started to type furiously on my phone. However, I ended up deleting everything. Suddenly, a lean figure appeared at the door. It was a man with a gentle look. When Mandy caught sight of her boyfriend, her expression instantly fell. "I can explain… Would you believe me if I said I came here to gather research for my fanfiction?" In response, the man came over and dragged Mandy away. "Mandy, if you want to write your fanfiction, you can use my body for research. Do I not have enough material for you? How about we work harder when we get home, hmm?"

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

None of them know that I'm starting to have trouble remembering where the fiction ends. "You're trending," Priya says, stopping by my office at 10 AM with the expression of someone delivering news they find both exciting and slightly alarming. She shows me her phone. There is a hashtag. #CelesteAndIsabelle has been used more than fifty thousand times since midnight. People are making fan art. People are writing speculative fiction about our "meet-cute." People are constructing elaborate theories about when we first got together, how long we've been hiding it, or whether we're planning to get married. "Fantastic," I say.

I almost laughed, but I bit it back, Instead, I leaned even closer, my lips nearly brushing the screen. "But Father, it's so hard. These fantasies... they get worse every time. I dream about him pinning me down, fucking me hard and wild, his dick slamming into my womb, like he can't control himself. I want him to grab my throat, to slap my ass while he pounds into me from behind. I wake up wet, my pussy throbbing, and I have to finger myself just to get through the day, but the thought of wanting him even while fingering myself is something I don't know how to explain"

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.

The text under the image scrolled like captions: ROUND 3: CARNIVAL. AUTHOR STRAIN: MODERATE. PLAYER LOSS: ACCEPTABLE. I snapped the book shut. The image folded in on itself and vanished. “These are… logs,” I said. “Narratives, the way *it* tells them.” “Correction,” SML said, pulling a volume labeled GAME CITY – MINI-GAMES from the shelf and flipping it open. “It’s fanfic. Bad fanfic. Look at this.” We leaned in.

Then he discovered her fanfictions: wild, smutty, and detailed enough to keep him hard for days. Finding her suddenly in his private spa had been surreal. He'd stepped in just wanting to give her an unforgettable experience as thanks… but things escalated fast. She was bold, naughty, and shockingly still a virgin. The moment his fingers entered her walls, she was so tight... so wet. He wanted to take her right there and then, but the stakes were too high. At the peak of his career, one scandal with a fan, especially his biggest fanfic writer could destroy everything. Still… he couldn’t resist giving her that orgasm.

At our class reunion, my so-called best friend, Shannon Drew, pulled out a box stuffed with folded notes. A line was taped across the top— [Draw one of Mia Martinez's hopeless-romantic quotes.] The room burst out laughing. Someone pulled a love letter I'd written to Damien Byford senior year. "Damien smiled at me today. I want to give him all my tomorrows, too." Someone else grabbed one from college. "It's okay if he doesn't text back. He'll think of me when he's not busy." Damien had never replied to a single letter. I'd always figured he'd tossed them years ago. Then Shannon drew letter No. 99. Leaning against Damien, she laughed as she read, "If you ever decide you don't want m

She'd been teasing me for the last half hour, torturing me while telling my mother all about herself. I'd listened with growing disbelief as Shelly invented an entire life, adding imaginary details on the fly, and Mom had eaten it up. So far as she was concerned, her only son was dating a college graduate. She rented a loft in the Village, kept a cat named Mr. Tibbs, and worked as a stenographer for a prominent law firm. Shelly made up family members as she needed them, regaled my mom with unhappy stories about ex-boyfriends, and expressed her desire to get married and start a family. A big one, she claimed, which was music to Mother's ears.