Céleste D. Ocean

✨ Hello, hi, I'm Céleste D. Ocean, daughter of the Universe Herself and Frank Ocean (allegedly). I'm a queer Black woman who aspires to be a writer and who, in the meantime, would like to bring your imagination to life!

Céleste || she/her || queer || black || 24 || entp || 7w6 || aquarius

Writing and reading LGBTQIA+ fiction have been my passion forever!

Now, I want to write for others. My commissions are open for you to command your own custom queer stories.

💵 I charge 10$ (or 10€) for every 1.000 words.

💛 When you place an order, you truly allow me to live an easier life through my passion and I am genuinely grateful for that!

✔ I write:

fiction

fanfiction

LGBTQIA+ (solely)

any genre: romance, fantasy, historical, horror, ...

SFW

NSFW

light kinks*

❌ I do NOT write:

NSFW including minors

heavy kinks*

age regression/age-play

racial kinks

gore

harmeful stereotypes

rape

Please, send me a dm before placing an order on my ✨Ko-Fi✨

See you soon!

✨50% OFF COMMISSIONS FROM 16 MARCH UNTIL 16 APRIL✨

* please dm me if you're unsure!

- a short story about religious trauma and internalised homophobia -

The sun is starting to rise. A golden sky fills the darkness of the night. Elijah stares at the view through the window. The calm of the outer world holds the storms of his inner world, for now. In this state of numbness, the young man sways between nightmare and reality. Soon enough, he knows that both will be the same.

A deep breath caught his attention. Beside him, a naked man sleeps, as beautiful as a fallen angel. The wind blows. He shivers and curls himself up, making Elijah think: if he leaves the comfort of his mind for the unpredictable world of senses, he will be unable to face the erratic reality. Still, he pulls the blanket up over the man’s shoulders to warm him.

Elijah has a moment of relief. A moment. A few seconds.

Then, it is the deluge. His reason is drowned by a flood of feelings, ever more depressing.

There is no more fear, but horror.

There is no more stress, but anxiety.

There is no more anger, but hatred.

There is no more doubt, but guilt.

There is no more sadness, but mourning.

Elijah feels himself dying inside. His heart beats faster and faster. A shiver runs through his skin. The heat of his sheets becomes unbearable. He wants to throw up. His body reacts as if he were in danger, ordering him to run away. Elijah must run now.

Following his instinct, he gets around the sleeping man, balancing on all fours. Emotional distress leaves room for physical pain. His neck, arms, lower back, legs…his body hurts as much as his soul. In another universe, Elijah would have savoured every ache while vividly remembering the pleasure and the love he had discovered hours later.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, he holds his head in his hands, trying to stop the overwhelming thoughts in vain: the voices always take over. They change his reality. They do not say that Elijah is next to Rafael, someone Elijah loves. They say that Elijah is next to a man, not a woman.

They repeat it again and again.

“You slept with a man!”

They recall:

“It is written: You must not lie with a man as with a woman; that is an abomination.”

They add:

“If a man lies with a man as with a woman, they have both committed an abomination. They must surely be put to death; their blood is upon them.”

"Who said I was on the soccer team?"

"Just borrowing your sweater. You know, the blue one."

"No way. You never return my clothes."

"You never wear those, don’t act like you miss your black jacket."

"My what?"

"..."

"..."