Cyberpunk Fanfiction Novels & Stories

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?"

"You’re the brain. I’m the fist. You stay here and monitor the feed. If this is a trap, I need you to burn the node remotely." Damian hesitated, then nodded. "Be careful. If he’s using a Zero Day compiler, he’s not just a thug with a laptop. He’s a pro." ------------------------------------------------ The Lower East Side was a maze of narrow streets and crumbling tenements. The cyber-café, ‘The Glitch’, was wedged between a bodega and a tattoo parlor, its neon sign flickering intermittently. Rylan and I approached from the alley. The rain had started again, a cold, misting drizzle that slicked the pavement.

Her voice is warped by the ambient hum of my dying PC fan, but still very judgmental. I roll onto my stomach, pushing aside a graveyard of snack wrappers. “Pixel, please. If I get arrested, it's because I cracked a dead whale wallet and forgot to clear my browser history. Not because the FBI found me eating cereal shirtless at 2 a.m.” “You’re disgusting.” “I prefer the term ‘vintage hacker chic.’” “You’re a nerd in sweats with a death wish.” “Sexy death wish,” I correct. My headset crackles as someone new joins the chat. “Is the sexy death wish playing tonight or what?”

My name is Jennie Dawson. I was just an ordinary college girl whose biggest achievement was pulling all-nighters to read smut novels. Then one night I dropped dead at my desk… and woke up inside the very book I was reading, as a pretty background character who happened to share my name. The heroine, Nancy Porter, was a transmigrator with a system. Her mission was to seduce my brother and turn him into her devoted plaything, living a life of indulgence with her day and night until she could finally return to her world.

It was a rush. A fire began in my brain, piquing my curiousity about him. I started digging. I wanted to know what made the priest's kid tick. It didn't take long to find his secret life as the most notorious smut-writer on the school forums. I’d hacked his laptop months ago, and what I found was a goldmine. He’d written me into his stories, every filthy, graphic detail, except he called me “Damian”in his fantasies. He’d replaced the girls I was with with himself. I knew he had a massive, pathetic crush on my best friend, Damian. It was too delicious to ignore.

They had built the sword, but forgotten the fire. The rain-streaked window of my Copenhagen apartment blurred the neon lights of the city into a watercolour of loneliness. Another night stretching out, empty and silent. I took a long swallow of cheap wine, the bitterness a familiar comfort. I glared at the holographic angel, his perfect pectorals seeming to mock my very mundane frustration. “Michael,” I said, the words slurring just enough to betray my mood. “Where can a girl get some drugs, sex, and a good time around here?”

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.

But as the agony peaked, the freezing vacuum inside me flared in violent retaliation. Overhead, the heavy neon light strips hummed aggressively and flickered out, plunging the room into darkness for a full, terrifying second as my subconscious void sucked the ambient electrical energy right out of the room. When the auxiliary power kicked in, Jaxon was extending his hand to someone else, oblivious to the anomaly. "I claim Tanya, daughter of the Beta, as my true Luna!" Tanya stepped up from the crowd, a smug, vicious smirk plastered across her face. She wore a crimson dress that practically screamed victory. Jaxon pulled her into his arms and slammed his lips against hers, sealing their bond

The day that had been shit had ended in glory, an impulsive encounter that proved urban life still held dirty, delicious surprises. As Ana drove home, her phone vibrated with a message from him: “I’m already hard thinking about your cum-filled pussy. When again?” She smiled, replying quickly: “Tomorrow, you bastard. Fuck me until I forget my own name.” The chapter ended like this, with them returning to reality, but carrying the trail of dirty desires and the potential for more intense fucks — the blackout nothing more than a catalyst for repressed urban lust. The End.

He’s too drunk to process, too far gone to understand what’s happening. “He’s not going to remember this,” Tyler observes. “I know.” I keep riding my unconscious fiancé, chasing a release his pathetic cock can’t give me. “But I will.” “Here.” Marcus appears beside the bed. “Let me help.” He pushes into my ass while I’m still riding Daniel, and suddenly I have two cocks inside me – my fiancé in my pussy, his best friend in my ass – and the wrongness of it pushes me over the edge. I cum screaming my fiancé’s name while his friend breeds my ass.