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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 · แฟนตาซี
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322 Chs

An Uncanny Encounter

To be fair, her heart wavered from his melancholic calls of her name along with the inaudible slurs.

'Damn, this man is drunk as fuck. There he goes with the accent,'she pondered, then replied, "What do you want Tyler?"

"Wha—the meaning o' news? You did theez!"

"No way—"

Tyler cut her off, and clicked his tongue before slurring again, "Don' get cocky… You never get dizz fah withou' me!"

"I have enough of your mind games, Tyler. I'm giving up on you."

Nathalie turned it off; to her, it was too much. This time, she ought to draw the line.

For her sake.

To her room, she entered and turned on the lights. Her room had a purple spare bed, a nightstand with adjacent vanity, and few ornamental plants into a golden glow.

Nathalie shuffled across her room and placed the manuscripts on the organized study desk she had. Her fingers swabbed on its surface.

Indeed, it was clean.

Much the same before she left.

She placed the manuscript on her study table and glanced at blue imprints nearby the edge of the sheet. Out of curiosity, she wanted to graze her hands, but it only earned a hiss from the bitter cold that assaulted her fingers.

"The heck is this? Wait... My make-up kit inside this—" When she opened, a cold mist greeted her face, which had her repulsed from it.

This time, many things have turned crazy for her, as if the medicines that she took weren't enough.

It's been a long time since she had to maintain this kind of lifestyle for the sake of her sanity, but it seems like it got too much.

Not even her parents knew about what was going on with their only daughter.

'This is getting out of hand. Not these too!' Immediately, her hands reached the phone and secretly dialed with a special button that needed immediate care with her medicine.

For a while, she knew nature called her, so she went to the ensuite, where she took her time and contemplated how the night would turn out.

From uncertainties of her career...

To compromising her identity...

'Things might not start well this year…' She sighed, then pressed the flush. 'Guess, I've been taking too many pills.'

Going to the lavatory, she turned on the faucet. Her train of thoughts preoccupied her once more, not noticing how her old watch got wet from the gushing waters.

'My watch!'

With a panic, she turned it off and checked her old school wristwatch.

Again, it wasn't wet.

Yet again.

Before her heart skipped a beat, a course of frigid breeze caressed her skin.

'Did I even open the windows?' She decided to take a peek.

From there, the draping purple voile curtains, stood a woman with alluring beauty; her icy periwinkle hair waved unbridled with the cold winds.

She was familiar, deeply so that it bore the same resemblance to the cosplayer she met several hours ago.

Nathalie was in shock; her head wouldn't process for a while when the lady afore her held the same manuscript in her hands. A rush of adrenaline was on her as she shrieked.

It was the cosplayer.

"My manuscript! You thief!"

The lady wasn't startled, shifting towards Nathalie; her indigo eyes contested her gaze.

Only a few words were said, but the lady uttered them like she was out of breath.

"... Finally, I got the chance to meet the Goddess…"

"What on earth is she talking about—?" She shook her head fast after a mumble, blinking. "Most importantly... Goddess? A who?!"

Nathalie stood several steps away from her. More than anything else, her eyes glued at the manuscript that held from her trembling hands.

'I didn't think there would be a stalker in my room, not on New Year's Eve! But then...'

"You psycho!" It was all Nathalie could utter. "This isn't a good joke!"

But even then, the more she scrutinized, her intricacy was the same person that Nathalie thought about one of her characters.

It was the same cosplayer who wasn't only significant at the attire, but also how she portrayed such a character as Mystique Blackwell blew her mind.

'The periwinkle hair, indigo eyes, alabaster skin tone, that choice of elaborate dress…'

Once the lady made one step closer, Nathalie did the same, although backward.

She drew an invisible line as though it was a boundary between them. Which only had her peer on the floor. Moreover, became apprehensive as she tried not to peel off her gaze from the precious manuscript that was in her hands.

"D—Don't come any closer! Whoever you are—!"

However, the lady had her voice croak once more, "You… You are the Goddess. Is this place… Your so-called paradise?" Her eyes began to gloss as she bit her lip. "This place, not even befitting for a deity to settle—no gold, no stones, not even jewelry on sight."

She wore a grandeur dress with feathered linings, draping on the floor. The gaze of the cosplayer-turned-out-to-be-a-stalker checked the puddle of water that was around Nathalie.

"You are the one..." Then went back to take a read of her manuscript; tears overcrowded her eyes to the rim cascaded slowly on her cheeks as she let out a sultry voice, "...So this was what became of me? Just like that, a life predetermined to die."

Nathalie remained shut; her pupils dilated from what happened; something in her shut down no matter how she tried to get herself to budge.

Her mouth went agape as she gasped for air. "Tell me!"

In an instant, Nathalie flinched from the sharp tone of her voice.

"I—I knew nothing what you're—talking—about."

Her mind was in chaos; who would've known to see a cosplayer and be deeply into a character, and the manuscript that has yet to come out to boot. At first, she thought it was all but a gimmick as few knew about her identity.

"W—We can talk about this in a civilized manner; please put that pile of paper on the table." She repeatedly shoved her hands slowly.

In the meantime, she secretly reached for the button hidden so well on her wristwatch. 'I can still contact Jonathan if I click this GPS signal button, and then I have to get away from here. Not with my family; it's dangerous.'

"This? Why should I?" She took a prompt move of the manuscript to the side, which made Nathalie ease a tad bit.

"I don't understand."

"Change me…"

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