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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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322 Chs

What Defines Success

"My deepest apologies, Ma'am…" While he took a deep bow.

"I understand your sentiments." She smiled at his apologies. Before she could open her mouth, her phone vibrated, and she wanted to retch every food she ate as what the letters appeared on the screen. "Speaking of the devil…"

"I shall take care of these, Ma'am."

"Please do; I'll go back to my room."

The chair creaked as she stood, grabbing her phone and pressed the button.

"Hello?"

"Talia…" Her ears perked up as soon as she heard her sweet yet stern voice through the phone call.

"M—Mom?" She then brisked her walk and clasped her two hands, pinning the phone close to her ear. "Why did you have Dad's phone?"

"How are you doing there, Talia?" Soon as her voice cracked, she knew something ill-fated happened.

Something within her loomed that got her uncomfortable,

"Mom, tell me what happened."

"I—A white-masked man snatched my phone… When I went to the supermarket this morning—"

"What?!" she breathed out. Her hands began to tremble, and all of a sudden, her throat had a hard lump in it. More than anything, she asked, "Are you alright? Did he hurt you? We can go to the hospital right now—"

"N—No, going to the hospital is pretty much expensive. Your father had already done first-aid not too long ago." Her Mom reassured, then cut her daughter off again when she called, "It's just a slight bruise from the tight grip and just—!"

"No! You have to go! I know you are lying when I hear your tone."

Nathalie knew her Mother would shrug things off, even worse when it was too much for them to handle. Because she also influenced that kind of behavior.

It was understandable they couldn't afford so much luxury as they come from humble beginnings.

But she was different now; something changed her forever, though it wasn't enough to make an impact.

'For what use do I have—All this wealth when I couldn't even help her so badly?' Nathalie bit her lower lip, utterly distressed with the thought.

Julia just let out a hearty laugh from her silly daughter. "I swear, I'm alright. I don't need a phone nowadays as I just call and check how you're doing every day."

Even far from one another, Nathalie couldn't help but cave in from the tightening of her chest every time her Mom would do this.

Never a day had passed. Her Mother, Julia Nicole Quinn, missed a call or text to her daughter, Nathalie Jean Quinn.

After reaching the last step of the staircase, she panted a tad bit, which alarmed Julia.

"What's wrong? Are you alright?"

"No, are 'You' alright?" Nathalie retorted.

"I told you, I'm alright. Don't you ever use the money I sent you because that's for your training and apprenticeship, okay?"

She lied. "Mom, how many times do I have to tell you I got it covered already because I loaned half a year ago; I was a student at that time." She twisted the doorknob and pushed with her body, shifting through the right side. "So use this money; how would you be able to call me every day?"

"Are you stupid? Your Dad can lend it to me anytime as he won't be employed any time soon; you know I'm hustling every single day for the five of us to survive."

'Exactly why you're exhausted and all! This pisses me off!' Inwardly, she cried out of frustration, but she couldn't voice out, or she would have another round of sermon.

"I love you, Talia. You know how your Dad wants you to be a successful engineer someday; it's also my dream, and I could only hope what's best for you. I owe you a good life, and I expect nothing in return."

Near the edge of the queen-sized bed, she slumped to the floor with arms prompted on the warm quilt, mustering her strength, not to sprawl over. By and by, she gripped a handful of comforters and did her best to stop the overcrowding tears that shimmered her eyes.

Whenever it came down to this conversation, she couldn't help but burst into tears from the myriad emotions that swirled like a tide. Under a discrete pen name, no matter how much prestige, wealth, and fame she got from the writing career, her parents wanted a child who successfully earned a decent job in the engineering field.

It was their definition of success: Her brother became a full-fledged lawyer, and they speculated her little sister to be a doctor someday, which they haven't asked what she wanted in the future.

'As a middle child, I feel lost, yet I strive for their affection and validation. So I was proactive with my decision matching theirs. Even then, writing is both my passion and lifeline. Why… Why am I not recognized—Perhaps I never will be…'

"... Talia?"

Several thoughts began to thwart her mind, back and forth, which she couldn't help but fidget with her finger and had her cheeks burn up. Before she knew it, the vision that was rather clear earlier turned blurry.

"... Talia? Hello? Are you still there?!"

"Ahh! Y—Yes, Mom." She grabbed the comforter and tapped it under her eyes like it was some handkerchief.

"You're crying…"

"No, Mom. My eyeshadows—" she croaked, continuously tapping. "I bought this one at the local market; it's—stinging my eyes."

Of all things, she had to come up with a crazy lie. She could only hope for the best that Julia would take the bait of it.

"Goodness! Go remove it!"

Thus her prayers were answered.

"I will! I love you, Mom. Take care of yourself, okay?"

"Always, I love you too. Make me proud, okay? Just focus on your studies; we're all fine here. Your Dad and I are happy enough to have a future engineer someday."

Nathalie gulped hard before humming with glee. When their calls got to an end, she massaged her temples, sighing.

Her mind turned like gears in the engine, brainstorming what she wanted to do.

'This won't do. I need to hire some secret bodyguards for my Mom. Maybe buying a smartphone or two will also do… But the approach will be…'

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