Crossover Crack Novels & Stories

"The rumor concerning CRUZ company...you didn't hear it?" "CRUZ company? I didn't hear about that, what was it about?" "CRUZ company was accused of producing fake designs and forging other companies' designs of paintings. It was all over the news, Clara." There was a hint of shock and surprise in Ella's voice.

’ I put my nose back into place, and accepted the blanket, turning purple, as my body temperature was giving up, and Sister Ophelia walked me back to my room. I feel no pain. Not on the outside, at least. They call it CIP, or Congenital Insensitivity to Pain. I can break as many bones as I want, cut myself a thousand times, as deep as I want, but physical pain would never reach me. It was both a gift and a curse. If I got hurt badly, I wouldn’t feel it, and it could kill me. Clarissa hasn’t managed to do that yet, unfortunately.

My voice cracked, whiny, pathetic, but I didn’t care. She arched beneath me, nails carving down my back, sharp enough to sting. “That’s it, Chriss. Come for me. Be a good boy and let go.” I groaned so hard my throat hurt, burying my face against her skin, rutting into her like I’d lose my mind if I stopped. Her pussy clamped around me, wet and messy, dragging the climax out of me whether I wanted it or not.

What kind of mess I am in now? ***************

he muttered, carefully trying to unwind the hair. But the more we moved, the worse it got. “Just pull it,” I said nervously. “Don’t—” Too late. I tugged my head back slightly. The hair snapped free but there was a small, sharp click. And the watch strap loosened awkwardly. Odell froze. Then he slowly looked down at his wrist. The clasp had come loose, and the delicate mechanism looked… wrong. Broken. “Oh no,” I whispered. Odell stared at it for a moment.

"Sir..." I exhaled slowly and waved a hand. "Let the 'VIP customer' have them." The staff exchanged glances laced with pity as Thomas accepted the box with gleeful satisfaction. Turning to me, he sneered, "Tsk. You can only window-shop these luxuries, huh?" "Check, please," he declared grandly, flashing a credit card. Those crocodile-leather shoes, priced at $1.38 million, were not items for flashy people like him. Even if he sold every knock-off item on his body, he couldn't cover the deposit.

“I sure am! One night stands are the perfect ways to fuck someone out of your system.” “Where'd you learn that?” “Doesn't matter,” she answered dismissively. “All that matters is you miss the dickhead, which we don't want. So when you taste some other dick, your brain gets rewired.” “Okay…so I need to get laid,” I muttered to myself. Am I really considering this? “Yes!” she yelled excitedly. “Rory, I need to go now, but you have to send me pictures or I'll kill you!Bye, love you!”

As she reached the area of the darkroom—a partitioned space with no door, only an open entrance—she began to tiptoe. The sound of a low, rhythmic moan reached her ears. Exactly what I thought, she told herself. She crept closer to the open space, peering through the gap. What she saw next made her breath hitch, her desire taking a bolder, more dangerous step toward the flame.

Maya conceded, “but pressure makes cracks. And cracks make stories. You don’t have to fabricate anything—just keep watching. Dig a little deeper.” Her tone was reasonable, almost casual, but the weight of her words pressed down hard. Because I had dug deeper. I’d seen the cracks, the exhaustion in his face when Tyler left the room, the way he carried burdens no one else should at his age. But those weren’t the kinds of cracks she wanted. Not the kind you splash across a front page. I swallowed, searching for steady ground. “What if there’s nothing to find?” Maya gave me a look I couldn’t decipher—half challenge, half concern. “Then you pivot. But don’t tell me there’s nothing interesting the

"I CANNOT MODIFY THE MEMBRANE. IT PREDATES MY AUTHORITY. BUT I CAN RECLASSIFY THE CRACKS." "Reclassify?" "CURRENTLY THE CRACKS ARE CLASSIFIED AS STRUCTURAL DAMAGE. CATEGORY SEVEN. CORRECTIONS REQUIRED. IF I RECLASSIFY THEM AS AUTHORIZED ACCESS POINTS, CATEGORY OMEGA, THE MEMBRANE'S SELF-REPAIR FUNCTION STOPS TRYING TO SEAL THEM AND STARTS TRYING TO STABILIZE THEM." "You want to make the cracks official." "I WANT TO TURN HOLES INTO DOORS. DOORS HAVE FRAMES. FRAMES PROVIDE STRUCTURAL SUPPORT. THE MEMBRANE WILL REINFORCE THE CRACKS INSTEAD OF FIGHTING THEM."