Mythos Of Narcissus: Reborn As An NPC In A Horror VRMMO - Chapter 1: Erect The Knife

One late-night run changed Aila’s life forever after getting caught up in a battle between werewolves and hunters. She is suddenly kidnapped by said hunters and finds out secrets about her past and her future as she embarks on a journey to find out who or what she truly is. Issues arise one after the other when she finally escapes the hunters grasp, only to be taken in by the ferocious Alpha of the Silver Crescent Pack. Unlike most who fear him, Aila challenges his authority every step of the way as she learns more about herself and the dominant, possessive Alpha who tries to claim her. Will heads collide in a battle of will, or can they work together and help keep the hidden world of creatures safe from the hunters? Join Aila on her journey of rediscovery, love, laugh and cry along with her on this action-packed, steamy romance novel. ----- Gold Tier Winner in #161 Writing Prompt Contest - Shapeshifters. ------ *** SNEAK PEAK *** [ MATURE CONTENT ] “Eyes up here, Aila.” He snapped; his harsh voice made her look into his eyes, and she was immediately trapped under his stone-cold gaze. She couldn’t move her eyes away from his as he stepped closer to her, his movements slow as though he was ready to pounce on her, his prey. Without thinking, she stood up from her position, prepared to bolt, but he grabbed her and pinned her hands against the bed. He moved his knee forwards, parting her legs that resisted only for a second before allowing his knee entry. He pushed it slowly into the spot between her thighs, making her gasp from the sudden contact. “Do you like disobeying me, Aila?” He growled; Aila was confused for a moment until she remembered how easily she defied his commands. Was he really still angry from earlier? But when she searched his face for an answer, she soon found it. He was definitely mad from earlier. “To be quite honest, I do. It puts you in your place,” Aila smirked when she met his blazing eyes. He brought his face down closer to hers, the pressure from his knee in between her legs increased, making her bite her bottom lip. “Wrong answer,” He growled before biting her lip apart from her teeth.

Enzo ventured into the primitive era, chosen as a priest by the Crimson Star tribe and emerging as the leader, awakening numerous extraordinary abilities in the process.In order to enhance their way of life, extensive reforms became necessary.Mystical sorcery and modern technology advanced hand in hand.While other tribes still dwelled in caves, the Crimson Star tribe had already gained prominence, constructing sturdy brick houses.While other tribes were still using primitive wooden spears and stones, the Crimson Star tribe had forged ahead with iron tools.In the midst of other tribes worrying about food scarcity, the Crimson Star tribe was reaping bountiful harvests of various grains.Furthermore, they possessed an unparalleled army of totem warriors.In response, Enzo, embraced by the luscious temptress and leading the enigmatic cat maiden, earnestly expressed, “I truly only sought to improve our way of life. How did I inadvertently elevate the tribe into a divine realm?”

As the eldest daughter of the Yang Family's main branch, Yang Ruxin's pleasure was building the family fortune and supporting her younger siblings. But why was that blind and lame guy such a Relentless Spirit?When she cooked, he would come to light the fire;When she set up her stall, he would follow to hawk her goods...“I say, Mr. Gu, do you have to help with everything I do?” Yang Ruxin asked with a hint of annoyance.“Yes,” Mr. Gu nodded earnestly.“Then right now I want to...”“Wife.” Mr. Gu hurriedly stood up from his wheelchair, “as long as we don't part, I'll give you anything you want.”

“Villains aren’t born, they’re made...blah...blah...”Cute quote. Stick it on your Tumblr header next to your anime pfp.You boys love your villain stories, don’t you?You want carnage. Chaos. Control. You want a dark throne, a cold smirk, and a woman kneeling at your feet begging for mercy.But you?You don’t want to lift a damn finger.You’ll cheer for the villain as he kills a god, but cry when he gets betrayed.You call it “plot armor” when the hero survives—but call it “art” when the villain does the impossible.You’re not fans of villains.You’re fetishists.You want the violence, but not the silence after it.You want domination, but not the burden of being hated.You want power, but only if the story forgives you for it.You don’t read these stories to understand evil.You read them because you think you're too good to win the normal way.“Villains don’t play fair.”Exactly. That’s why you love them.Because you wouldn’t last a day in a world where strength mattered and excuses didn’t.You don’t want a villain’s life.You want his results.You want to watch him burn the world for a woman.But you’d cry if a girl left you on read.So tell me—What exactly are you rooting for?At least unlike you, I support heroes—the ones with boobs.You know the type.Tits squeezed into latex, thighs tight in spandex, preaching virtue with cum-drunk eyes the moment they fall into my arms but always end up screaming my name instead.She flies above cities, saving lives like it’s her job.But at night? She crashes into my arms, trembling, moaning, clawing at my back like I’m the only real thing she’s ever touched.Her cape drops before her guard does.But I don't need to tear it off.She hands it over herself—bit by bit, kiss by kiss, lie by beautiful lie.You ever felt a heroine's breath hitch in your ear as she begs you to stop pretending you're the bad guy?Ever watched the symbol of hope ride you like you're the last man left after the world ended?That's not conquest.That’s devotion, baby.Unfiltered. Undeniable.And the irony?They fall the hardest.Because no villain ever tried to understand them. No hero ever dared to see past the shine and into the ache beneath.But I do.I whisper into the cracks of their perfection.I plant kisses where they hide their pain.I fuck them where they forget to wear their strength.And when they break—when their moans turn to prayers, when their strength melts into submission—That’s when I rise.I’m not just some brooding misfit out for revenge, or a misunderstood loner sitting around hoping for a shot at redemption.I’m not a villain.I’m the SUPERVILLAIN—the kind your heroines moan for when the cameras are off and the capes are crumpled on my floor.