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I, Voldemort (Self-Insert)

MythosMixer
I had a peculiar dream where I found myself in a room, dressed in a robe, holding a wooden stick and directing it towards a lifeless body. My entire body was itching, as if my skin was melting like wax. Internally, it felt like icebergs colliding with each other. The absurdity of the situation overwhelmed me, causing me to burst into laughter. However, the sound that escaped my mouth was so powerful that it almost caused me to faint; it was the kind of laugh any supervillain would trade their soul for. Suddenly, I realized that the voice I heard was not my own, which prompted me to rush to the mirror. To my surprise, the reflection staring back at me did not resemble myself either. Gradually, my body began to transform, becoming less human-like and more unrecognizable. It felt like various pieces were merging together within me. Then, the pain struck. I collapsed to my knees, screaming in agony. But abruptly, the pain vanished after a short while, leaving only a lingering headache. It was in that moment that I understood this was not merely a dream... I am Lord Voldemort! Well, not exactly. My mind was flooded with foreign memories of Tom Riddle, also known as Voldemort, who attempted various methods to achieve immortality and alter his body. Some of these methods did not work well together, such as creating horcruxes and implanting fragments of the Veil of Death into the body. It's possible that a sliver of his soul was ejected and replaced with a random soul, or that my soul merged with the remaining fragment in this body. The outcome was clear: his memories, reflexes, and abilities, combined with my consciousness. This proved to be advantageous as I had full control over the body. You can support me and read advance chapters on my Patreon. Join me at patreon.com/MythosMixer for exclusive content and updates!
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Hurt Me Like You Mean It [BL]

[Updates resume March. Due to exams] [This book contains, explicit and mature scenes—no r*pe. Not advised for viewers under 18, protect thy purity] Lance Dixon is drowning in a debt that isn’t his. His parents’ financial mistakes have fallen entirely onto him, and his life has collapsed into a constant struggle to stay afloat. He has never denied what he is. Lance is a masochist, and most people he’s dated couldn’t handle that truth. Every relationship ended the same way, leaving him with needs no one was willing to meet. Everything shifts on a night he drinks too much and ends up venting to a stranger. In a mix of frustration and alcohol, Lance jokes that he’d sell himself to anyone willing to pay off his debt. The stranger, Ansel Lowell, doesn’t brush it off. He asks how much. And when Lance tells him, Ansel offers a deal: three months living under his terms, in exchange for clearing the debt completely. The deal is straightforward and seems almost like relief. But as the days pass, the dynamic between them deepens in ways neither expected. What began as a simple exchange grows into a connection that is far more consuming, and far more dangerous, than either of them intended. [Excerpt] Lance meant to pull away when Ansel stepped closer, but his body didn’t move. Ansel’s hand hovered near his jaw, just close enough to make Lance’s breath catch. “Do you understand what you agreed to?” Ansel asked quietly. Lance swallowed. “You’re paying off my debt. I stay with you for three months. That’s it.” A hint of a smile tugged at Ansel’s mouth, which made him more dangerous because of it. “No, Lance. That’s the surface of it. I want you to hear the truth.” Lance’s pulse stumbled. Ansel leaned in just enough that Lance could feel the warmth of his breath. “I’m going to take up space in your life. I’m going to have you when I want you. I’m going to learn every weakness you try to hide, and I will use them. I will claim you, piece by piece, until you can’t tell where your choices end and mine begin.” Lance exhaled shakily. “Do you worst Mr. Lowell, I can handle it.”
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