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Villain Transmigration: Author Transformation

[ENRICHED WITH MATURE CONTENT. PLEASE READ WITH CAUTION. ] AUTHOR TRANSMIGRATION "I want to write Villain perspective! Enough of this Hero and Heroine gig!" Nathalie Jean Quinn, life was so ordinary until she wrote the first book of her sequel, The Prince's Retribution, swept all over the literature world and garnered massive fan base and fortune. Now, she wanted to leave out of her comfort zone and challenge herself-- To seek the memoirs of a villainess in the story; for its sequel, The Prince's Ascension, Mystique is revealed. But even the management and the audiences begged to differ, so she made her way. Although, in the middle of completing the Sequel, the main villain, Mystique Blackwell, comes for her in that magical encounter and cursed her. Will Nathalie now transform to a monster that she created in her own story? *** Excerpt*** "You're mine. Am I clear? You're my property." Mystique was pressing her thighs against his, which he could never break free from her beguiling clutches. She was on top of him; the surge of confidence came with her and took charge for the whole ride. Her eyes were obscured with gleaming lust, and her hands worked their wonders and slinked to his chiseled abs up to his brawn sweaty chest. Every time she landed a smooth caress, he let out a stuttering moan as he was in spasms. His toes would dig deep into the mattress, no different from his nails that clawed, not trying to touch her sacred body. It wasn't all as she reached for his nipples, rubbing them ever-so-softly. The man would throw his bobbed back to the woolly pillows and arched his back from pleasure. Even though the bed creaked—fast and subtle that played their ears—she loved it. Just as she adored every point in him... Not a second delayed as he would shiver every time she would stroke the same parts of him. On the other hand, she has kept up the pace ever since. She crashed her well-endowed chest against his. Their lips parted by a hair's breadth, and he gritted his teeth as he saw her angelic feature up-close, driven by ecstasy. His gestures and countenance fueled her within, hastening the pace. There, he couldn't control his voice and let out pleasurable groans and grunts. Within those seconds, more thoughts began to blur her. She grabbed a handful of his hair, bringing him closer to her while whispering his ear. "You're mine. Am I clear? You're my property." *** P,S, The book has come to an end in a good note! Thank you so much for reading!

Aethereal · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
322 Chs

Tragic Truth Awaits

The first thing he ought to do was to recollect his thoughts, eliminating the root cause—or at least changing to a favorable spot for him.

Like what the rumors said, the third time was, indeed, a charm.

When he realized how he got turned back in time, he knew he had to check Mystique. Fortunately for him, it was never too late, with Sylvester around.

For his best friend, it was all familiar—just as what became of the Grand Duke of Blackwell. He was also a victim of it, and he understood what it was to be under their shoes.

Athan, as far as he was concerned about Mystique, her eternal slumber became the root cause of Arnold's catharsis and became one of the stimulated points of the decade war in a rather early timeline.

That meant the flames of war were inevitable to begin with, regardless if she took part in it or not. This time around, having the Grand Duke by his side and Mystique, at least of what he knew at the end of it, would greatly help the empire.

After all, both the father and daughter had one goal in mind, regardless of the methods undertaken.

"Marry me, Violette."

Her languid, narrow squint that filled with boredom had now widened again from his audacity.

[Have you lost your mind?] she glared—despite gaze slowly rattling from his serious countenance. Her arms remained firm as she clutched unto her grimoire.

"Most definitely not." he then smiled.

[I said I don't want to. Didn't I tell you I don't want your love?]

"I don't believe it."

In a turn of his disbelief, Mystique smiled—out of mockery again—before doodling in midair.

[What goes around comes around. What did I tell you?]

'There she goes again.'

"You're no less than a hypocrite, Violette."

[As I have said, fighting for your love would only be the death of me.]

Meanwhile, Athan tilted his head to the side, scrutinizing her tad astonished face and her arms remained rigid, as though pushing him away.

"Why the sudden change of heart?"

Mystique tried to push with all her might, but beneath his layers of leather and fabric was his sturdy body. Every time she pushed, only kneaded her fair skin, and only pain awaited her if she continued to press against him.

Seeing how she was determined to get away from him, huffing with her flustered face, made him want to tease more of her.

"Hmm?"

Withal, Athan's hand cupped the underside of her chin, with a little bit of force this time. She winced at the slow tug.

"You say the words with derision and hatred." He drew his face close to her, their eyes met—beguiling and an enchanting moment—but it didn't let it get to him as he went to her ear with a whisper, "Your body reacts otherwise."

Her body flinched in subtlety from how close he got to her; with his deep, suave voice that continued to smother her ears, had he notice her resistance dwindled.

Athan could still remember his time with her, as much as he didn't want to admit it. She was probably the best in bed; as such, his hand reached hers and gave quite a caress.

The enormous, callused hand of him that engulfed her smooth, slender fingers with ease and had them interlocked one another. Every rub jolted her; instead of pulling away, it was like her gaze went dreamy and sought solace in it.

Her ragged breathing would spike a hitch whenever he kneaded them purposefully.

'This Mystique, I knew she still has some feelings for me.' Athan thought he revealed a smirk when she peered away like she wanted to resist it all.

To him, it was still a victory.

All he wanted to do was to tame the ferocious lamb and succumbed to his allure.

At the present time, Mystique had disadvantages—and he planned to lay out those cards well.

"Look at me." His crimson eyes gleamed, and it immediately garnered her attention. In the meantime, he kissed the back of her wrist without breaking their eye contact.

A couple of kisses smacked the air, and his lips worked like wonders—soft and warm, gliding her skin.

To her palm...

Until his lips grazed her fingertips...

Mystique moaned but covered her mouth right away, letting go of her hold on the grimoire, and shut her eyes with firmness.

'She still likes this part. I told you so,' His grins widened, clearly amused as she held it in.

If not for her sickening and psychotic behavior, she would've been a great candidate for her harem.

"So, do you really mean what you said?"

Even then, his actions halted when she was able to nod from his question. With an ounce of resistance left, he ought to ruin it and made her bow before him. However, that thought didn't last long when she managed to scribe midair amidst the tremors in her arm.

[I don't enjoy your company any longer.]

'Still going off strong, huh?'

"Must I remind you about your dirty little secret?" This time, Athan had a sinister smile, like he was preying upon her.

Mystique almost gouged her eyes out of the sockets, sucking in a cold breath, but at least amused the crown prince when her glances screamed she knew it was coming.

Not that he lost hope with it.

"With your lifetime curse, you'll never be able to live without me, Violette."

In this lifetime, he was resolute to own her, the most vicious woman in the empire.

Until Athan thought he had the last laugh as he tried to corner Mystique, her further words ultimately led him into shambles.

[I have a lover now.]

His head moved away, and she was surprised how she was able to break free from his clutches—with an adamant look in her eyes.

"...What?"

[Indeed. Should I swear by my name then?]

He somehow stepped back, or a two after her statement. With his face said it all, she clutched her chest as she gasped for air before glaring at him.

[Sir Keith…]

"Inconceivable! This is preposterous!"

[If you would like, then you might want to ask His Grand Ducal Highness for affirmation.]

She raised her hand with a snap on her fingers; a glittering glow fluttered like a wisp that moved its way to the door.

And just there, it was like the world came down crashing before him.

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