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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 · Kỳ huyễn
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Do Come Inside

'Fuck! I got too careless!'

"Was the room too hot for you? I could have—" He raised his hand, and the cold mist came out of his hand, gushing like cascading waters. However, his attempt and effortful actions backfired when she slapped his hand. "How rude! What was that for?!"

Fortunately, Mystique was good at making a poker face, which Nathalie adapted.

[Do you honestly think it's that hot when I can use ice magic just as well?] She arched her eyebrow to a snobbish level. [Of course, it's a little distracting, much more when I'm about to eat.]

"Right…" He stopped, rubbing the underside of his chin when he pondered. "Very well then," he muttered again, this time, his hand sheen and outgrew a blade of ice. It's tip glinted, which had him squint.

[Oh, no, you don't. You will NOT cut my crowning glory!] She huffed out, crossing her arms.

Arnold blinked while the ice in his hands fizzled; such mist vanished into thin air.

Her hand crept up to her collarbone and itched from the sudden tingles. [Father, can I eat now? I'm grumbling—]

... Speaking of the devil, her stomach grumbled, and she flustered, leered—downward from it.

"...Fine, if you say so."

Nathalie wanted to have a peaceful mealtime, but all she could do was tolerate everything that flashed her eyes.

To think Arnold would act so silly like she was a toddler pissed her.

Sometimes she would throw a fit. Doing so would bring him back to normal from his foolery, but then it won't take long to revert to it.

'I just want to have a good mealtime…'

The meal was now over. Arnold bid farewell, pushing the food trolley, and with a flying kiss to boot. Meanwhile, her soul would always be on the verge of leaving his actions.

She snapped away from her thoughts when the door opened; the goofy side of him went all stern. Sharp gaze at the maids-in-waiting while they tremble in fear.

"What are you all standing here for? Go and take this away! Get out of my sight!"

'What a quick switch, the duality of Arnold Heinrich Blackwell.'

When she noticed the noise died out, it was time for the next phase.

Rustling out of her bed, she went to the closet and found appropriate clothes for her to walk outside. Not too skimpy for a sapphire tunic dress, but laced and flared, both up to wrist-length and calf-length.

'I need a frilly fan.'

She opened the door, and upfront, few ladies-in-waiting greeted her; even Iris was there. However, her eyes gleamed with intensity, no different from his father.

[.... I shall be so kind not to report you all if you do me a favor; however, Iris...] When Iris stepped forward, Nathalie gave her a peculiar scroll, smiling. [I remember about your mother telling me such stories. I hope you give this to her as a compensation.]

If anything, what she gave was a title of the land, which Iris bowed and ceaseless gratitude.

[All of you, leave at once!]

'Now I need to find him—' She turned left and guessed who it was.

Nathalie smirked.

'To think that you would come to see me.' Nathalie slowly fanned while hiding her smug smirk behind the frills.

["Keith…]

"Greetings to the Blackwell's youngest star." His gallant strides slowly come to a halt and in the distance. He then lifted her hand and gave it's back a kiss, meeting the lady's eyes thereafter.

His gaze was soft but had a tinge of longing to it, which made her confused.

'Gurl, my heart skipped a beat.'

[You're here, quite lovely timing, isn't it?]

"Certainly is, Your Grace." He curtly bobbed and averted his gaze, cheeks blushing.

While he was at it, Nathalie scoured her surroundings to see any suspicious people lingering around. It won't be a good talk for a man and a woman, only them in a quiet hallway, let alone coming to her room.

'Keith seemed to know what he was doing as well.' Taking one last glance, she turned her back while she said, "Come on in."

Nathalie strutted forth towards the mini lounge to her room, a set of cozy azure velvet couches with a pinewood table as its centerpiece. [Follow me closely.]

Her snappy beats from her strut emerged from the room once again, but it somehow threw her off when she heard a sudden whipping sound, a series of clinks and zips behind her.

'Hmm?'

Soon as she halted in front of the armrest of the loveseat couch, she turned around only to see Keith, who raised her eyebrows with a deep rumination. His ascot necktie and gloves were on his mouth, and then further down the view had her ogle.

'What is he doing—?! Good heavens! He's not stopping!'

He already tugged his flared inner tunic, and grey coat uniform revealed a broad chest along with his chiseled abs, toned and lean that could beat amongst steel and ivory. Meanwhile, his clothes brushed against his muscles, making them hang by his forearms.

Even from his fit, trousers had unbuckled, revealing his sculpted adonis belt that peeked above his underwear.

Her face began to heat up when she noticed how his abs tensed a tad bit from her stare. He averted his gaze, blushing, and almost went off to remove it from his arms.

However, before he could proceed, she took a step back and tripped backwards when her shins hit the armrest.

"Your Grace!" In an instant, Keith reached out, saving her from tripping towards the couch.

But they ended up on the couch, with him on top of her.

His warm breaths brushed her cheek and assaulted the ear with hearty bliss.

'S—So close…'

Out of curiosity, she couldn't help but graze over him, feeling and loving the skin he's in. Her hands travelled from his arms—with several cuts and scars were etched like a beautiful graffiti art.

'He's so rough and so warm…'

Sudden onset of palpitation coursed through her as she then stared at his bashful countenance. He was flushed all over but remained eye contact. His rugged breath, having a white puff, in sync with his chest rising and falling in subtlety.

But before Nathalie could proceed, Keith was quick in his move.

She eyed sideways and gaped how her wrist got restrained by his large, callused hand.

Meanwhile, he drew his face close to her ears with a moan, like a voice in her head.

"If you do more than that. I'll be more than aroused."

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