Crossdressing Villainess Novels & Stories

I fight the urge to rush to her side, my hand involuntarily tightening around the fork on the table. Dressed in a red knee-length high-neck bodycon dress, a departure from her usual attire, Valentina exudes elegance. The padded shoulders add a touch of sophistication, and the modest front slit hints at her appeal without revealing too much. It's a stark contrast to the tight corset dresses I have always liked her to wear with the intention of highlighting her impeccable curves and flawless skin for all to see.

SCARLETT : There was nothing uncool about what they wore, not that it wasn't supposed to be a criterion for leading us to impending doom. They were dressed differently from other rogues, both the ones that attacked and the ones we found dead on the way. The four villains stood in the space we were in, their presence heavy. The woman with long purple hair that fell past her waist, looking wild and untamed, had clothes that were dark, fitting her body like a second skin. She wore shiny metallic gloves, and her boots were tall, making no noise. Her golden eyes glowed with power. It felt as if she could snap my head in two without a worry.

taunting, yet marking her howling death presence as his seductive voice and lustful eyes does not match with her deformed face, where she hides it with a golden half-laughing mask. Her cocktail dress somehow is being painted with the hue of scarlet blood and a dash of both white and black dye. She holds a crane unto her hand and not because she is cripple of anything in particular, but it is her very weapon and her favorite one that matches her small pipe hat as a decoration to her long curly and pigtail styled hair. Resembling Joker’s princess as she is somehow acting like one with too much laughter and smiles. The Gods could not even react as They even did not sense her presence, nor had t

They split up, as if giving way to someone who would walk on the carpet past them. Confusion was sketched on their faces as the old woman in red, sparkly, and fancy dress crossed in between. She had a curvy silver hair and an overdone make-up that was supposed to conceal her wrinkles but it failed. White pearly accessories were worn on her neck, on her wrists, and even on her ears, too. She had a villainous aura; someone with the likes of Cruela Devil of 101 Dalmatians, and Evil Queen of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.

She could obviously smell I was a wolf. Heather stepped back from the rack of dresses, narrowing her eyes at the woman. "Ah, I didn't realize this establishment was run by specists." "I am not a specist. I just prefer Supes to model our dresses." She sneered, crossing her arms. "I am doing this–charity work–as a favor to Alpha Cross." "Yeah, no thanks." Heather grabbed my arm. "We will go elsewhere." We headed to the door and I flung a rude hand gesture at the woman. I might've been human, but I was Were now. She had no right to be such an asshole.

Perhaps it was due to her instincts as the villainess of the story, but from the moment she saw this woman, she hated her from the bottom of her heart. She had a face that was completely different from hers. Meanwhile, the model husband in other people’s eyes and the person who once loved her the most was holding this woman’s hand and even hugging her while working. They acted as if no one else existed. They interacted with such intimacy that it seemed as if they had been together for years, even though a year ago, my father had badmouthed this woman with her in the middle of the night. They had both believed that this was a manipulative witch who was highly skilled in pretending to be innoc

“As long as my dear wife doesn’t try anything rash. Or stupid.” He stood, moving toward her like a predator closing in. “Because I’m ready to play this game however you want it,” he said, his voice laced with a dangerous promise. Marceline’s lips curled into a bitter smile. “Of course. You’re the almighty Cross Dejava. No one dares to offend you.” She laughed softly, but it was hollow, bitter. “And I’m a nobody. Just a girl with no freedom and no choices. A doll painted with smiles even when I’m dying inside. So why would I ever think to offend you?”

A faint, thrilling heat began to uncoil in her stomach. "If your son knew his father was sleeping with the woman he loves, I imagine he'd be quite horrified," Nicha sneered. The petite woman made a move to get up and leave. This middle-aged man was simply far too charismatic. Even though he was approaching his fifties, his magnetism was undeniably dangerous. "I'm not the only villain here, Nicha. You're just as wicked as I am," Chayon said, his jaw tightening. "And so what?" the younger woman fired back.

The woman sounded annoyed at her failure to complete her mission, snatching off her wig along with the maid outfit she was wearing. "Shitty brat! If it weren't for you, I could've gotten my money!" She stuck up her middle finger and ranted. The fake maid revealed herself to be a highly attractive woman who wore skin-tight clothes that did little to cover her buxom body. Medium length dark purple hair was combed to one side, lying over her left shoulder. Though her face was beautiful, there was a nasty sneer plastered on it. "What's going on here?" Walking up to the scene with narrowed eyes was none other than the archduchess herself as she took in the scene before her.

"The day before my 'Nutcracker' debut, guess what I found in my shoes? Tiny, glittering shards of glass, enough to turn my dream into a bloody nightmare." A wave of nausea washed over me, unable to digest the image of my blameless, poor mamma as this ruthless power-hungry villain. "She stole Erik, but that wasn't enough," She hissed, smoke obscuring her features. "She craved a life of diamonds and silk, and Adriano Russo, a young don in the making, fit the bill. Not a dancer, darling, a criminal with pockets lined with dirty money."