Devilish Hair Game Novels & Stories

she cries out. A sinister smile spreads across my face as I grab her by the hair yanking it backward. Finally, the real game begins.

"With eyes like that, how did I never notice her before?" "Who handled the makeup for The Devil's Bride instance? That person is a genius!" "Did anyone check the other instances? This should be the new standard going forward." Back in the room, I read the live comments, feeling a surge of pride well up inside me. Once the brides were fully made up, even their presence felt transformed. As the Long-Haired Ghoul emerged, the players froze. They no longer swung their scissors recklessly. Instead, they stood mesmerized, unable to look away. When her hair tumbled forward like a river of silk, there was no escaping it.

Neutral magic was just basic magic. Ouch. I looked up to see the Stylist yanking at my hair. I gave her a look that should've made her stop but it didn't. Why was she pulling at my hair so much. I tried to grab at my hair but she smacked my hand away. A laugh came from my side. I looked in the mirror at the Goddess who was laughing since the Stylist had my hair in a tight hold. The Goddess of destruction was getting her hair done and had a cruel smirk on her face.

(WINONA’S GAME) “LET’S PLAY ANOTHER GAME SHALL WE, FOR YOU SEE THE DEVIL’S DAUGHTER IS ON HER MOVE.” Telling them the inevitable dread that is already happening as they four are quite aware of it. HE smiles cunningly as HE first presented the game that HE prepares for every one of them. The game that they knew and the one that will set everything in motion down unto the middle part of this current loop and down unto the last and the seventh.

MELISSA’S POV Gavin's gaze drifted toward the doll, which suddenly rebooted with a violent twitch. Its head rotated fully backward in a grotesque manner. Its movement was slow and deliberately aim to make my skin crawl. “Game concluded!” it shrieked in a slightly distorted tone. The Crow erupted in murmurs. How could the game be over, we were practically the first group. As though hearing my complaints, a braided red haired muscular man stepped forward. “System don't we even get a fair chance..." he was barely done speaking when the system intervened.

I screamed with tears stinging my eyes as I fought hard and undid the rope as I came crashing down on the floor, my face kissing the floor. She yanked me by the hair as fresh blood dripped from my forehead slipping to the floor. “I will ruin you beyond recognition.” she cackles, running her fingers through my hair. It better not be what I'm thinking. “The Alpha is attracted to you and this fancy hair of yours might be the reason so I have to chop it off.” She is evil. My hair was my identity. She can't snatch it away. I won't allow that. “Don’t touch my hair you jealous bitch!” I managed to voice out, my throat dry and hurting like I swallowed rocks.

A discernible moment of reflection elapses and… “Horrible things.” She mutters as they both stare into space. She doesn't want to go back to those moments or think about it more than she already does. She shuffles his hair playfully and he giggles, exposing a beautiful pair of dimples that she innately thinks is worth envying. “You know I will do anything for you right?” Christian smiles on her words before nodding, not once questioning himself she meant it. He believes her. “Come on, I need to show you my video games. They are super cool and trust me, you will love them.” Laurel jumps to her feet, matching Christian's eagerness as they both walk out the room with Christian pulling her hand,

I turned around, grabbed his collar, and dragged him over. When the others saw that, they immediately came forward to stop me. However, this was just a feint. Before he wrapped his head fully around what was going on, I let go. Since he did not have a stable footing, he staggered and fell. At that moment, he was almost unable to hide the hate on his face. “Isn’t this what you want? Enjoy it, then.” I glared at him. Suddenly, Naomi rushed over and shouted, “Claude, you piece of trash! Leave!”

Dante taunts, his laugh dark, delicious, maddening. His hand tangles in my hair, yanking my head back so I’m forced to meet his gaze. “She’s bad, this one,” he says, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Dirty. She wanted all of you to see her like this, being punished and fucked for her little games.”

I whispered to myself as I waited impatiently for his call, asking me for directions or asking me to come out but I got no call. Then he finally walked in, an hour later, and the moment I set my eyes on him, I nearly forgot how to breathe. Six-foot-three, wide sculpted shoulders in a fitted black coat. A black shirt unbuttoned just low enough to reveal the ink running down his bronze skin, his jaw was sharp, his nose straight, his cheekbones high and cruelly perfect. Midnight black hair, just long enough to fall into his piercing, cold grey eyes, the kind of eyes that stripped souls, not just clothes.