Dark Aesthetic Novels & Stories

I frowned when I heard a velvety voice and turned towards her. "Excuse me?" I looked at the gorgeous woman who was standing in front of me in black dress, she is blonde with bluish eyes. Tall, curvy and pale. She smiled arrogantly while standing beside me as we both looked at the ocean. "Mikhail. He is tempting, right?" She sounded completely in obsession with him. "No matter how much you have him. It always feels less, you crave for more." Why is she orgasming in front of me with her slutty words?

I noticed things I shouldn't have, the scar above his left eyebrow, the way his lashes curled slightly at the ends, the perfect stillness of his breathing. He was stupidly beautiful,the kind of beautiful that felt like a setup. Like a piece of glass wrapped in silk. Clean lines, sharp jaw, that scar above his brow like a signature on chaos. His dark hair was pulled back in some kind of lazy bun,like he just woke up from sleep and didn't care how he looked,how his hair tied behind his head made him look.

The heavy wooden door opened slowly, revealing a sliver of darkness that widened into the mansion's vast entry hall. My heart hammered against my ribs. Caden stood there, looking impossibly calm. He wore dark pants and a loose white shirt, sleeves rolled up, showing strong forearms. His eyes, dark and sharp, met mine, and a slow, unsettling smile spread across his face. "Right on time, Maeve," he said, his voice a low rumble that filled the huge, echoing space. "Come in. Don't be shy."

“No. Fully dark colors would make readers assume it’s a tragedy steeped entirely in darkness. Your book isn’t only about wounds. There’s hope.” I swallowed, startled. “You read the synopsis?” “I read everything before accepting a project,” he replied firmly. I opened one of the catalogs and stopped at a page. A palette of grayish blue, with a faint touch of pale cream in one corner. Soft, yet still carrying a cool undertone. “This,” I said quietly. “This feels right.” Rudolf stepped closer. Not too close, but close enough to see clearly. “This is good. It leaves room to show the main character’s fragility without weakening her.”

A mix of fear, anger, and relief. The truth hurt. But the lies had hurt worse. Deep down, I just wanted everything to go back to normal. AT FRANCESCA’S PENTHOUSE The penthouse lights were low, warm, and expensive. Francesca sat on the edge of the long white couch, legs crossed, lips painted deep red. She held a glass of wine like it was a weapon. She watched Mr. Blackwood with a smirk. Mr. Black stood near the window, back to her, hands in his pockets. His shoulders were tense.

Everything was submerged in the depths of black colour. Hades liked this black color. Because he liked being in the dark. He hated the light. There was only one shining star in his life which was pleasing to his eyes—Alessandra. There was only one who resided in his eyes like a light or a gleam. Her smile was like shining lightning. Her eyes were like a galaxy. In which more than crores of stars were involved. The number of stars that combined to illuminate a sky, more stars than that used to reside in her eyes. That was the beauty of her sparkling gray eyes. The picture in the room also had the shape of Alessandra, but the difference was that of life. He wanted it alive and was now ready to

No matter how much I picked at my skin, it was always there. Harsh florescent lights shone down on smooth cement walls and a dark floor. There were grooves in the tile that led to a singular drain at the very center. When blood filled those little divots, it looked like rivers of pure crimson. I knew from personal experience. My nails still hadn’t grown back. The room was identical to my cell. Home sweet home. Never one to pass up an opportunity, I turned to the camera in the corner of the room and spat at it. “The aesthetic of his place fucking sucks. What kind of interior designer do you people have? Everyone knows dungeon chic is out of style.”

That was why I gave him the most comfortable position I could think of. As I dip my brush into the vibrant colours on my palette, I steal glances at Adrian. He is a vision of masculinity, his chiselled chest and arms on full display as he sits shirtless in the comfortable position I arranged for him. His brown hair is mussed, and his brown eyes sparkle with a hint of amusement as he watches me work. He will be a fucking celebrity if he decides to go into modelling. I can’t help but wonder why he hasn’t thought of doing that before.

Blake's sobs soon followed at the sight of nothingness, darkness and that one hole on the ceiling. "L-luca, p-please. Get me o-out of here, p-please." Sobbed Blake in despair, his lips quivering in fear. The shivers didn't stop to crawl on his skin, as the thought of not getting out there forever started to eat his soul. He crawled backwards until a cold wall hit his back, as the sound of chains echoed around the dark room.

he urged, stepping aside. I hesitated for just a moment before stepping inside. His room was exactly what I should have expected, yet somehow, it still took me by surprise. Dark. Of course, it was dark. The walls, the furniture—everything followed the same dark aesthetic as the rest of his house. One wall was decorated with textured gray stone, adding a cold elegance to the space. The floor was the same color as the wall, smooth and polished beneath my feet. It was minimalist, yet grand. Intimidating, yet oddly comforting.