Assassin Aesthetic Novels & Stories

Ben made a face when he learned how the ‘surgeon’ was a blind effeminate man. “I have some weapons. They’re mostly defects, but they work. I’d like to see your fighting styles to design a weapon that would suit you best. Choose anything to your fancy.” Like kids at a toy shop, all four assassins scrambled to find a weapon.

Let’s just say that it’s no coincidence the word starts with two asses, because one ass is not enough for those douche bags. So no, I’m not an assassin. I’m a professional serial killer, also known as a PSK. Assassins are lazy. Kill one terrorist with a sniper rifle from a hundred yards away and then disappear into the night without a trace. Boring. PSK’s make Murder for Hire an art form. Any Catholic schoolgirl can shoot a man or put poison in his scotch, but it takes real finesse to make Murder for Hire look like the workings of a deranged sociopath. Granted, it does help that most PSK’s are deranged sociopaths, but that is completely beside the point.

“Good evening, or should I say in a dread, controlling, and menacing way, Prince of dark Symphony, Clayden.” Taunting the words towards the person that he finds to have the same standing of his very life and a mirror to consider. The prince in this universe where God Aries rules and just one of the alternate dimensions from the original and existing one, is far more than the beautiful, yet dark symphony it is playing for him. Young, handsome, and sheltered all its life as ability and very talent lies to its standing as the greatest musician. He who is noble by birth and the future of this very country where he is to rule over, yet not his destiny. Is someone who is an assassin, an in-line ki

I glared hard at her, trying to suppress my urge to pounce on her. As I look over Raya, I can see that she is dressed just as I would have expected an assassin to be. She's wearing a tight-fitting black bodysuit that clings to her every curve, making her look even more dangerous and deadly. The suit seems to be made of some kind of synthetic material that almost shimmers in the light, giving her an almost ethereal quality.

“Ah, dear niece, so this is what an average day in the life looks like… waltzing with your kill and staring right into their eyes right before you snuff the light out of it… brilliant!” It was obvious he wanted a reaction out of her, and on a very good day, he would have gotten nothing, but today wasn’t exactly going as planned for the plus-sized assassin. Barbara moved with a speed that would have stunned the girl she used to be. In one fluid motion, she was behind him. She didn't bother shedding the server's jacket; she simply reached beneath it. The cold steel of a ceramic knife was pressed firmly against the pulse point of his neck before he could say another word.

And as her ass jiggled with each step she took in her fucking pink sundress, I knew I couldn't really blame khaki shorts. Kayla was a lethal combination. She was dark honey. Sweet and irresistible, she carried an air of boldness around her, and was assertive when she needed to be. She held her ground and she was super independent. And there was an edge underneath all that sharpness, an edge of darkness that told you she was a minx in the sheets. And she was. So I couldn't blame him, but that didn’t mean every tom, dick and harry with khaki shorts could eye-fuck her in the streets.

“Under those corporate parameters, are there specific stylistic vectors your tongue wants my hand to steer his choices toward?” I seized the tactical opening instantly. “Yes. Absolute confirmation. Nothing that translates to a low-tier mate trap. Zero threads that imply a brainless bimbo aesthetic. My image requires an architecture that registers as highly intelligent, yet entirely sharp. Dominant. Historic. Symmetrical cleavage represents a viable asset, but nothing that evokes the visual data of a primitive breeding den pin-up.” “The metrics are logged. My hands will manipulate what we can behind the veil.”

It was the perfect setting for a confrontation between predators. Alessa arrived in her black luxury sedan, stepping out with the poise of someone who owned every room she entered. Her black ensemble, layered textures of silk, leather, and tailored fabric, clung perfectly, commanding attention without a single word. The sunglasses shielded her eyes, hiding the whirlwind of emotion raging inside.

However, we understand that not saying anything is the best route to take. It’s late in the afternoon by the time our research is completed. Hunter rises from his seat and stretches his lithe body with a jaw-cracking yawn. “Hey, man, would you mind giving me a ride to the boutique? I promised Mal I’d take her out tonight, and it’s later than I thought. She’ll be pissed if I’m late. Plus, unlike you and the others, I have to go to the tailor next door to be measured for a tux. Savage wants everyone ready, or heads will roll.” I roll my eyes in exasperation. “That’s what you get for dressing like a poor college student. Our tailor has had our measurements for years. Perhaps you should start dr

It was as if I were looking for a needle in a haystack. If Silent Assassin weren’t an enemy of the law I would have applauded him for his bravery and for having such skills. He was very slippery just like an eel. And all of his victims are people who are hugely plagued by society. He is like Robinhood in modern times. It’s just that Robinhood stole from the rich and gave to the poor while silent Assassin kills the rich people who are plagues of society and bullies the people who are helpless because of their low status or don't have money. He will be good police if only he is not an assassin.