Beauty And The Beast Aesthetic Novels & Stories

''If you had been short, overweight and ugly? Her face was cool when she replied him. ''The same thing I am doing now, obeying my husband's instructions'' Then she added as if in an after thought. ''Beauty is nothing but an illusion, it doesn't exist outside the eyes of the beholder. The trick is to get beholden by the right people. But you wouldn't understand that now, would you? You are still beholding the Weruche girl. What's she like?''

Now, both Aarya and Mohini were eagerly waiting for their brides. *** # 4) The BEAST and The BEAUTY Time skips, ~•Aarya's house:- Snuggling into the arms of beast, Beauty wiped her eyes as she could feel his soft thudding heart. Beast was very old now as he turned 90 today. His face was full of wrinkles as his skin loosened and hair turned completely white. He was in the comatose state. Old age was swallowing his life. On the other hand, Beauty whose face had lost the youth but charm and glow was still there, were hoping for the best but somewhere in her heart, she knew, Everything was near to it ends.

And if there’s one thing they all had in common, it was that they were beautiful. But… He’s worse. He’s too beautiful. The kind of beauty that doesn’t just get admired it destabilizes things. Fae beauty isn’t normal beauty. It’s not soft or human or even truly consistent. It shifts depending on perception, like your mind can’t decide what it’s looking at. One moment it’s sharp and cruel, the next it’s almost tender, like it’s been tailored specifically to whatever weakness you didn’t know you had. They say faes aren’t just born beautiful but that they’re crafted by magic itself. Curated by old laws, by courts that care more about aesthetic balance than morality.

Because of their beauty. Oh, goddess. How could anyone look so breathtaking? Even though I had seen them before, they were still utterly stunning. They weren’t the muscular kind of attractive like most men. No, their beauty was something else entirely—refined, striking. They were flawless without looking feminine. Their faces were identical, sculpted so perfectly it felt as though the goddess had taken her time crafting a masterpiece.

An ideal world where no competition is allowed, only a crowd, which despite being exhausted, is relentless when it comes to one day reaching the standards of beauty that belong to them. That is why, tonight, I choose to challenge everything he believes in by clinging to the theory that yes, aesthetic beauty is certainly attractive, but over time, one will need something more to keep the admiration burning like a flame. This may be intelligence, charismas, or a lost soul for those who love to mend one. The pity being that, most of the time, this becomes a rip-off. For when plunging into the depths of another, one may be startled to discover that our pure desire does not match at all with our

"Well, I wouldn't blame him. Annalia Davis is what everyone desires and admires. Even a vicious monster would fall in love with a beauty. How classic, Beauty and the Beast." However, one individual did not appreciate her stunning good looks. One somebody who was able to see right through her. One person was able to see her for who she entirely was—a pretentious and self-centered person. And that particular individual was Marcel. Because of her beautiful appearance, no one will be able to see that Annalia Davis is vain because they will be too captivated by her. It can't be denied: she has a gorgeous sight.

Her eyebrows were thick and arched with confidence, and her cheekbones were sharp enough to cut glass, yet her smile—when it came—softened her whole face. Her eyes were the kind that held too many stories and not enough time to tell them all, a deep shade of whisky brown with golden flecks that made them look almost... enchanted. But it was more than just beauty. Nina Blackwood had poise. Grace. That enviable quality where she could sit on a stiff leather chair in a corporate office, sip black coffee, and still feel like she was sipping red wine in a rooftop lounge somewhere in Paris. And yet, she wasn’t intimidating. At least not to me. Not anymore.

She let out a scream of ecstasy as I moved to her other br**st and repeated the motion. The beast was in no mood for drawn out foreplay today, he wanted his sweet release, and fast. I stood from the bed and removed my pants and shirt, before kneeling between Harriet’s legs. She moaned when I rubbed the head of my pe**s against her ready and waiting folds. I pushed in hard, entering her all the way. Her eyes rolled back and her back arched at the sensation it gave her. I began pumping, hard and fast, as my beast roared in satisfaction.

I reached out and grabbed his chin softly, then tilted his face up so I could see him properly. I was shocked. Speechless. I did not expect this… this kind of beauty. My heart flipped, but I didn’t pay attention to it. His hair was a warm brown, slightly messy like he’d been running his fingers through it. His eyes were a deep, normal shade of green, but they held something that hit me harder than I wanted to admit. He was breathtaking in a quiet, unguarded way that most people in our world had long lost. Too bad I’m here for his sister, not him.