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Crazyjamjam Leaked

90 Days With The Cold Billionaire

‎At just twenty, Christy Scott has lost everything. Betrayed by the people she trusted most, she’s left homeless, jobless, and barely surviving as a dancer in a strip club. ‎ ‎Then Kendrick Black walks in, billionaire, emotionally ice-cold, and hiding a secret that could destroy his reputation. He offers her a deal: pose as his girlfriend for ninety days to kill rumors questioning his masculinity. For Christy, it’s survival. For him, it’s damage control. It’s supposed to be business. Nothing more. ‎ ‎But living under Kendrick’s roof turns out to be more than she bargained for. His manipulative sister wants her gone. His childhood sweetheart plays a twisted game. And worst of all, her ex, the same man who crushed her heart, is now Kendrick’s driver, watching her every move. ‎ ‎Just when Christy starts to find her footing, everything comes crashing down. A leaked video from her past blows up online. Her name, her dignity...shattered. In a desperate attempt to escape the media storm, she’s caught in a brutal accident. ‎ ‎She wakes up in a stranger’s home...Kendrick’s best friend. And with him, the truth: she’s not just anyone. She’s the missing daughter of the powerful Lancaster family. And she’s carrying Kendrick Black’s child. ‎ ‎Now the girl everyone once dismissed is coming back stronger. With fire in her eyes, a baby in her belly, and the truth at her back, Christy is no longer the victim. She’s the storm. ‎ ‎But when the man who couldn’t protect her comes begging for her love, can she forgive him? ‎ ‎Or will she become the bride who burns it all to the ground?
Chrystabliss · 1K Views

Corporate Villainy: Trample Protagonists as a Minor Villain's Dad

**Mature Content Warning** This novel contains morally bankrupt decisions, unapologetically villainous behavior, corporate warfare, system abuse, woman-stealing, protagonist-trampling, psychological manipulation, and occasional spicy entanglements—some consensual, others complicated. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- In a world eerily similar to Earth—only where megacorporations rule entire cities and states like feudal lords—Vincent Cornelius wakes up in a soft bed beside a plump beauty. Reincarnated into the body of a rich, arrogant CEO in the gleaming city of Autumnvale, Vincent soon discovers he’s not just any rich patriarch—he’s a “villain father”, the kind destined to be humiliated, ruined, and killed so that his pathetic son, Lucas, can become a stepping stone for some arrogant, heaven-defying, cliché cultivation protagonist. But fate doesn’t know what it’s dealing with. Because Vincent isn't here to follow the script—he’s here to rewrite it. Armed with the Corporate Villain Expansion System, Vincent earns Villain Points for every time he defies the story’s “fated path”: Let the "hidden young master" stay hidden? +300 Villain points Humiliate the trash protagonist who awakened a divine bloodline? +500 VP ‘Educating’ his own useless son? +100 Luck Points! Giving female lead a ‘taste’ of reality? +1000VP +200LP Skills, poisons, underhanded deals, reputation-crushing press leaks—he can buy it all from the system, as long as he plays the role of the perfect villain… and wins. In a land where cultivation powers are monopolized by corporations, and destiny is rigged in favor of cookie-cutter protagonists, Vincent must grow his mid-tier family business into a corporate empire through any means necessary that can crush fated heroes and hostile corporations beneath its polished leather shoes. The world wants him dead. The story demands he lose. But Vincent Cornelius didn’t reincarnate to be anyone’s footnote. He’s about to prove that in this world, the real golden finger is a hostile takeover. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Disclaimer (Filed Personally by Vincent Cornelius): If, by some cosmic accident, any names, corporations, or highly sensitive trade empires mentioned in this story resemble real-world entities—rest assured, it’s entirely coincidental. I am far too busy conquering fictional markets to bother with actual ones. No offense is intended. No lawsuits, either. Unless you’re a protagonist. In which case… file away. I'll be waiting—with a better lawyer and a hostile takeover plan. This is fiction. Relax. Or invest. E-Mail- xxvincentcorneliusxx@gmail.com
Maharaja_Sakt · 62K Views

I Can Copy And Evolve Talents

Across the vast convolution of worlds, divine beings rule as absolute sovereigns—each god assigned dominion over a singular realm. Skirmishes are inevitable, whether for power, amusement, or sheer pettiness. One such battle, between Nexus, the God of Trickery, and an aging, senile deity, resulted in an anomaly… A soul misplaced. Elliot, an ordinary man, was never meant for Ul’Tra-el. But fate, or perhaps a cosmic prank, had other plans. Unlike other worlds, Ul’Tra-el is an aberration—one that developed a voice. A voice that diverged from the natural order. A voice that changed everything. Its foundation cracked, leaking dimensions into one another. Rifts tore open like festering wounds, vomiting forth unspeakable horrors—monsters not meant to exist. But the world did not sit idly by. In response—perhaps an act of self-preservation—the world gifted its inhabitants power. Talents awakened, granting people extraordinary abilities. And for every rift sealed, the Voice of Ul rewarded them generously. Survival was simple: fight, grow stronger, and close the rifts… or die trying. In this ruthless, blood-soaked reality, Northern—a white-haired boy burdened by his past life—was reincarnated. But unlike the chosen heroes, he awakened as a talentless nobody. No power. No strength. No future. And when death loomed over him—when despair clawed at his soul and the cold grip of the failure threatened to take him— A Voice responded: [System Notice] [Your Soul cannot take a form.] [Searching for a Unique Pattern Ability…] [Searching…] [Search Found.] [A Unique System Ability has been detected.] [You Can Copy And Evolve Talents] ... Follow Northern through his journey as he becomes the pinnacle of this world. This a story about a white-haired boy’s rise from rubbles!! Note: This is an overpower genre but MC does not just start off like that. Even though MC can copy talents he doesn't just jump around copying talents because there's a limitation. However, his rise to strength is depicted and is an experience to enjoy. The first few hundreds would be frustrating to follow because MC is weak but that makes the experience all the more interesting when MC finally gets freaking strong and starts wiping the floor with everyones asses.
RighteousFilth · 3.8M Views

The Guilded Curse

Chapter 0 – Ashes of a Daughter Place: The Ruined Palace Date: Late winter, Year 768 The palace burned. What once stood tall in white stone and gold banners now crumbled in smoke and ruin. Screams had long faded. Blood dried too fast in the winter wind. The flag of Eltharion lay trampled in the mud, and beneath it all, Vireya stood alone. Her armor was cracked. Her blade, gone. She had killed and bled and shielded—and still, they lost. And yet she stood. On shattered marble steps, her father—the king—watched the last member of his kingdom flicker in the girl before him. He had not fled. He had not begged. But he had not answered her warnings, either. “Do you see it now?” Vireya whispered. Her voice was hoarse from ash and war. “He used us. Everything I said… everything you ignored—” Silence. He didn’t argue. He never had to. He was the king. She was the weapon. She took one step closer. Blood leaked from the cut at her ribs. The world spun. “I’ve fought every battle for you. Spilled every drop they asked.” Her voice softened. “And I came back each time hoping—just hoping—you’d see me.” Still nothing. The wind picked up, bitter and sharp. Her fingers trembled as they reached for her chest plate. She couldn’t breathe. She wasn’t sure she wanted to anymore. “If I were born again,” she said, eyes dull, “would you ever… love me?” He met her gaze, just once. But no answer came. No apology. No denial. Only the quiet shame of a man who realized too late what he had broken. Vireya’s lips trembled with a hollow smile. “That’s what I thought.” Her sword slipped from her hand. “I hope I’m never your daughter again.” And then—her knees gave out. The world tilted. Darkness swelled around the corners of her vision. But just before the fall, she felt arms catch her. Solid, trembling. Too late. She closed her eyes. Place: The Garden of Eltharion Date: Early spring, Year 756 The air was too still. Leaves rustled overhead, casting dappled shadows across her face. The scent of pine and soft earth clung to her skin—but beneath it, the sharp sting of memory. Vireya’s eyes opened slowly. The sky above was too blue. The silence is too clean. No fire. No blood. Her throat ached—dry, parched, and burning like she’d swallowed smoke. She coughed weakly, and her hand flew to her side— But there was no wound. Only the phantom pain of where a blade had once pierced her. The memory of steel sang louder than the wind. She pushed herself upright, limbs trembling. Her body was smaller. Softer. Younger. “No...” The word caught in her throat. Her voice was barely a whisper. The last thing she remembered was dying—falling in her father’s arms after giving up the hope of being loved. And now… this? Footsteps. She flinched instinctively, body coiled for defense. But it was only a girl—barefoot, with soft steps and a plain brown dress. Her maid. Lune. Mute. Loyal. Eyes like dusk, always watching but never judging. Without a word, Lune knelt beside her and gently offered a glass of water. Vireya stared at it for a long moment. In her old life, Lune had been the only one who never asked anything of her. Never spoke behind her back. Never looked away from her. Her fingers shook as she took the cup. The water touched her lips. Cold. Real. “Thank you,” she rasped. Her voice cracked. “You're still here.” Lune only bowed her head, then reached out to brush a leaf from Vireya’s tangled hair. A quiet gesture. Familiar. And just like that, tears pricked behind Vireya’s eyes—but didn’t fall. She drank. Slowly. The water didn't ease the ache in her chest.
Arii_137 · 109 Views

Mandar to reach heaven

But will he succeed… Can Vikram truly stop these twisted demons—creatures who slaughter humans by making their intestines explode from within, all by simply shoving cursed feathers into their ass ? From the divine mind of Brahma, the god of creation, came not only beauty and order—but also the flaws of existence. One such flaw was born from his back, not his heart or mind—a symbol of neglect. That flaw took form as Adharma, the embodiment of impropriety. Adharma married Mithya, the goddess of falsehood, who twists truth and clouds clarity. From their union came Dambha (Vanity), representing arrogance born from lies, and Maya (Illusion), his sister and future wife, who wraps the world in deception. Dambha and Maya gave birth to Krodha (Anger)—the violent force of pride and frustration. He, too, married his sister, Himsa (Violence)—a being that thrives on pain and destruction. From them was born Kali—not a god, but a force destined to rule the final age due to his bloodline connection to Brahma. Thus began Kali Yuga, an era fated to last 432,000 years—a time where neither gods nor demons are allowed to intervene in the human realm. But one demon rebelled—Rudra. Seeking to overthrow Kali, he unleashed chaos on the human world, shattering the divine balance and leaking celestial power into the mortal realm. As humans unknowingly begin to awaken to these powers, the order of the universe teeters on collapse. To stop this spiral, the gods choose a protector for Earth: Vikram. His destiny is not to conquer, but to restore balance—to walk the line between gods, demons, and mankind… and maintain cosmic order.
breath_m · 20K Views

Threadborn

I never asked to be the chosen anything. I had a nice enough life, if you enjoy communing with dead people, wrangling ghostly regrets, and being occasionally mistaken for a lost Victorian child. Harrowers don’t get holidays, and we certainly don’t get destiny. We get well-worn boots, crumbling field journals, and maybe—if we’re lucky—a thermos that doesn’t leak. I was fine with that. Then came the part where I accidentally got involved in a celestial conspiracy. You know, the usual: unraveling the fabric of fate, discovering I may or may not be some mythical thread-weaver, dodging bureaucratic Fae with sharp smiles and sharper agendas, and, most inconveniently of all, developing a highly inconvenient attraction to a certain exiled Huntsman of the Unseelie Court who looks he stepped out GQ: Gothic Edition and smells like rain. Alaric Fen. Yes, that Alaric. The one with the eyes like amber lightning and cheekbones you could cut yourself on. Now I’m trying to stop the Balance from folding like a wet towel, while two ancient Courts most humans are blissfully unaware about flirt with civil war, and everyone keeps looking at me like I’ve got the answers. I don't. I have tattoos I didn't sign up for, a fast-talking con artist for a best friend, and some stubborn hope that kindness still counts for something. So if you're looking for a grand epic of magic, love, betrayal, memory, and rebellion—well. Here we are.  Just… don’t expect me to smile about it. Come along if you'd like. I could use someone on my side. -Entry from the diary of Grey Wyrde
Sundrop_Dancer · 16.2K Views

Things We Don’t Talk About

——— I woke up to fingers running gently through my hair. At first, I thought I was dreaming, until the lullaby began. Low. Melodic. But wrong. It was that same language I'd heard through the walls, the one that makes your stomach twist and your teeth clench. She sat on the edge of my bed, I can’t see her face; it’s swallowed by the dark. But her hand keeps moving, slow and rhythmic, stroking my hair like she’s lulling something else to sleep. Her eyes are half-closed, swaying as she hums that twisted tune. And then I realize— I forgot to turn on my bedroom light before falling asleep. I kept my breathing slow and shallow, pretending to sleep. limbs screaming to move, to run, but something in me knows: Don’t let her know you’re awake. Don’t move. The singing stops. She sniffles. A choked, trembling sob leaks through her lips. She starts crying quietly, like she’s trying not to be heard. Like she’s afraid. “No...” she whispers, her voice cracking like a child’s. “He still dreams like a child… still soft…” I almost convince myself she’s sleep-talking— Until her hand suddenly tangles in my hair and pulls. I flinched and let out a sharp gasp. "Mama—!" She goes still. Her grip loosened… then shifts. Her fingers wrapped tightly around my trembling arms. Her face inches closer. I can smell her breath,..warm, wrong, too close. Her eyes are wide with terror. Her voice shakes as she hisses: “Don’t say anything." "Don’t say a word anymore.” I was too scared to speak. I couldn't even nod. She held me like that for a long, shuddering moment. Her breath was hot and ragged against my cheek. Her hands were too tight, like if she lets go, I’ll vanish. Her eyes darting around the room. Then, like a switch flipping, she goes completely still. "Mom?" I whispered, so softly it barely made a sound. She was at eye level with me. But she wasn't looking at me. She looked past me. Behind me.... No... no. It’s happening AGAIN. . This is not a safe novel. It's a collection of short, self-contained stories, each chapter unraveling a new descent, a different nightmare. Some stories are brief. Others not so. No heroes. No clean endings. Just answers that should have stayed buried. Read alone if you must. But don't say we didn't warn you. Reader Warning: This series contains psychological horror, disturbing imagery, death, and paranormal themes. Reader discretion is advised. Each chapter is a self-contained story, perfect for short, spine-tingling reads.
RongKing · 10.4K Views

Alora: My Human Hybrid Luna

“He is here again”, I murmured to myself as I could feel the air shift in the room. I pulled my nightgown down to cover myself as cold and warmth enveloped me in a soothing embrace. It felt like a warm blanket had been wrapped around me. He smelled faintly of dark vanilla and something musky, something warm. I could feel his breath on my skin before the bed dipped. He pulled me closer and wrapped his hands around me. I closed my eyes and waited for his soothing murmurs in my ears. “Did you miss me”? He moaned into my ears. Alora Lance has been haunted by a faceless man who visits her dreams for as long as she can remember. His touch is electric, and his presence is peaceful and intoxicating but her waking life is anything but magical. She has nothing except a leaking roof over her head and a ruthless landlord threatening eviction. Then one day, she finds herself in a mating ceremony she was not supposed to attend. One accidental step into a world that should not exist. And everything changes. Dragged into a world that doesn't make sense in real life, Alora finds herself pulled into a past she knows nothing about and the enigmatic gaze of the man that had haunted her dreams except this is not a dream, it's a nightmare she may never escape, especially when the Alpha of the Bloodfang Pack marks her with a single look. And in his eyes, she is no longer invisible. She begins to question everything about her life and her past.
Gloria_Edet · 10.9K Views

Demonic Witches Harem: Having Descendants Make Me Overpowered!

Matthew, a 25-year-old otaku, never imagined his obsession with fantasy worlds would turn into reality—until a fatal gas leak ended his life and transported him to another world. But this wasn’t the second chance he hoped for. Born as the illegitimate son of an affair, his very existence was a stain on his family’s honor, and his father relentlessly sought to kill him. Yet Matthew, now Claude, survived, again and again, driven by an unyielding will to live. Until one day he discovered his power darkness. Feared and reviled in this world, dark mages were hunted and burned alive. Knowing his gift could become his downfall, he trained in secret under Theo, his true father. When he turned sixteen, he, his mother, Dalia, and Theo planned their escape from the small town. But their attempt was thwarted by knights and clerics from the Promised Land. Though he narrowly escaped with his life, the cost was high—his family’s safety shattered. Wounded and desperate, Matthew fled to the fabled Elysian Plains, the last hope for those like him. However, just as they neared Elysium, Claude was struck down by the Saint—killed in an instant. Yet, against all odds, he lived again. The voice of the man before him confirmed it. “You are the descendant of the Lord of Calamity. I grant you this kingdom and the power to crush all who stand in your way.” The man’s lips curled into a chilling smile. “Write your own bloody history, Claude. Until we meet again, I expect you to have conquered this world.” And with that, Claude awakened to a power beyond his imagination—the legendary system he had longed for. Yet, as he soon realized, it was no system at all. [Oh? So you expect me to be like the ones in your memories?] [A system that grants you quests and guides your hand?] [Very well.] [Welcome to the Elysium of Darkness System, Lord of Calamity.] A series of commands etched themselves into his mind, each word dripping with ominous purpose. [Your first quest has been issued.] [Increase the number of dwellers in Elysium using your seed and blood. Spread your legacy by making demons and witches bear your children.]
GiganticBlackCat · 313.9K Views

Umburals

Umbrals Dark Fantasy • Sci-Fi Horror • Psychological Thriller Before the Earth had names—before humans even existed—a war of extinction raged across the stars. Two ancient alien races clashed: one, cold and calculated, sought to erase all biological life. The other, the Umbra-Kin, were creatures of living armor and essence-bound flesh. They consumed not matter, but life-force—the very core of consciousness. When their world was destroyed, the Umbra-Kin made a final, desperate choice. They sealed their last offspring into crystalline bio-pods and cast them into space. Most were lost. Shattered. Consumed by gravity. Forgotten. Except one. Shielded by another as it fell through a distant atmosphere, a single egg survived, piercing Earth’s crust in a time before memory. It remained hidden, deep underground, where it grew—dormant, undetected, but very much alive. It bled radiation into the earth—a living virus of essence. Slowly. Silently. It infected the soil, the air, and eventually, the biology of every living thing. Over centuries, this alien pulse rewrote DNA, weaving into the evolution of early creatures and eventually, humans. No one noticed. But something strange had formed inside them: A core. A glowing, invisible organ tied to energy, memory, and potential. It slept for generations. Until it was awakened. In the modern age, ten miners working deep beneath the earth stumbled upon a tunnel that wasn’t on any map. Inside: a massive, ancient door, pulsing with black veins and humming with forgotten power. When they forced it open, it reacted violently—erupting with black sludge and radiation. They were thrown into a deeper chamber where they discovered the impossible. A massive crystalline cocoon, suspended above a pit, leaking black goo and glowing faintly. Inside: the last of the Umbra-Kin. Wounded, dormant—but alive. Its presence reignited the infection already seeded across the planet. The radiation spread rapidly, invisibly. First through the air. Then through the blood. Across Asia and North America, something began to awaken inside people. Some could access their white cores—harnessing strange powers or enhanced bodies. But others… couldn’t control it. They began to change. The first transformations were violent—flesh cracking open, bones reforging into weapons, organs replaced by crystal. They screamed. Killed. Lost control. The world called them Umbrals. At first, humanity believed them to be mindless monsters. But over time, it became clear: Umbrals were still human. They remembered. They thought. Spoke. Felt. The madness that overtook them during their transformation was only the beginning. It was the pain, the overload, the virus merging with something it had once created. When that initial surge passed, many regained themselves—only to find they were no longer fully human. They were hybrids of man and weapon, driven by a new, unbearable hunger: the need to feed on core essence to survive. Many gave in. Some resisted. Others... adapted. Umbrals learned to mimic, to stalk, to strategize. Their intelligence exceeded what it once was. And their numbers grew fast—faster than any military could react. Entire regions collapsed under their rising population. In desperation, human survivors began training core-born soldiers—those capable of stabilizing and weaponizing the white core energy within them. These elite fighters stood between the remnants of civilization and total collapse. But it wasn’t enough. Cities crumbled. Governments fell. The black ooze spread faster than borders could hold it. People began whispering about the cocoon deep beneath the earth—the Cradle Below—still pulsing with life, still remembering its species’ extinction. And it wasn’t sleeping anymore. Now, the world stands on a knife’s edge. The line between monster and man is blurring. Umbrals walk among humans, and humans tap into power that once belonged only to the stars. A second war is coming. Not in the sky,
KurayamiIzanami · 1.9K Views
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