Dark Red Aesthetic Novels & Stories

The one whose name my people still cursed in their prayers. But my traitorous eyes refused. They drank him in greedily tracing the corded muscles of his arms visible even beneath the armour, the way his chest rose and fell with calm, controlled breaths, the faint scar that sliced through one dark brow. He was beautiful in the way storms are beautiful terrifying and mesmerising all at once. Soren Masuda was raw power wrapped in divine grace. A strange forbidden ache bloomed low in my belly. Shame followed instantly, hot and bitter on my tongue. Stop it, Evelise. He is not yours to look at.

But it was his eyes that truly held everyone captive. A deep crimson—striking, hypnotic, and inhuman. They weren’t just red; they carried an unfathomable depth, like liquid rubies gleaming under the arena lights. They radiated an air of mystery, a gaze that seemed to see through everything. There was an intensity in them that sent a shiver down the spines of those who dared meet them. And yet, despite their inherent coldness, there was something oddly magnetic about them, drawing people in rather than pushing them away.

Be the right fuckin’ colors. Red wasn’t just red, you know? There were shades of red. But this new shit? It wasn’t right. They’d fucked it the fuck up. This red, right here, it was more brick than blood. It was too soft and orange, or something. The devil’s eyes had to pop. He wanted them to pop. With blood. Fuck it. Whatever. “Cool tats,” she’d said. It was afternoon. Late afternoon. The sun wasn’t as bright. The shadows were long. And the shop had tossed his ass out. Went around the corner to take a leak and then puke the pancakes up by a dumpster.

He captured my lips gently, the plump nature of his lip gliding softly over mine, putting just enough pressure onto mine to make room for his tongue to slip through. The click of metal against the side table had me pulling back from him, and when the red hues in his eyes peeked out from beneath his hair my world stood still. The crimson shade of them had a light glow behind them that would make them stand out anywhere, but the colour was so opaque that it continued to draw you in. It was a rich texture that I imagine would feel like velvet to the touch while remaining mobile like a thick liquid. There was a question in the way he was looking back at me, afraid of how I would react to them, b

“If you don’t leave here now, I would be forced to call in security.” “You can’t just call in security out of the blue, it's too late for that, we are all learning something.” One of the directors interrupts Kayden, but as soon as he was done talking he turned back to the board as was back to paying attention to Crystal. “Even I was worried for the combination; what color do you think should fit it?” “Since you are using red as the main color, some of the soles should be painted black and not this bright sick yellow.” They all nodded except Kayden who was furious. “It looks like a girl in kindergarten painted It, it's all messed up like this.”

I muttered. The silence swallows the room, the only sound is the relentless ticking of the clock. My fingertips painted a crimson danced a nervous rhythm around the stem of my wine glass. The heavy damask drapes, a deep shade of merlot, pooled on the floor like spilled blood. A ruby pendant, the matching set to the earrings adorning my ears, dangled from a delicate silver chain around my neck, catching the flickering light and throwing a series of tiny red suns across the mahogany table. Red, it had always been red. a bold choice. The color of passion, of power. but red was always my shield, my armor against the world.

CHAPTER TWELVE She used a soft lipstick that added bare color and shine. It didn’t add authority or boldness or blatant sexuality. It didn’t turn her into any sort of femme fatale. She didn’t need that. The Wolf wouldn’t want that. Her stomach ached in ways that reminded her of Aleta in her womb, of the hollowness after she was birthed, of the barrenness of her soul now that she was dead. She felt something strange in her eyes. Not tears. No, a glitter. Something feral and dangerous. Her teeth pulled back from her lips in a snarl until she caught herself and coughed demurely. She pulled her sunglasses over her eyes to hide the predator’s shine.

Crimson. He came for me. Will he claim me? I’m sure he will. I hope he will. In my hazy and drugged state, my heat surges through me. Heating my body to a point where I crave the need to be touched, and to be satisfied. I see him fight his way to me. His cat - a deep shade of red with eyes that glow like demon dogs – mercilessly maims and kills until he stands above me hissing and snarling at the other males whose hands had touched me.

I rubbed my sweaty palms together, inhaling and exhaling in an attempt to steady my heartbeat. You can do this, Seline. You’ve trained years for this night. Get it right. Jax pulled out a shimmering red dress from the battered wooden closet and pressed it lightly against my bosom. “You can never get it wrong with red. Such a beautiful color. Like blood.” He smirked, his pointed fangs shooting out a bit. I nodded in agreement, even though I disagreed. I saw nothing special about the color red and it reminded me of that night I sat on the floor of my dusty Packhouse, surrounded by the crimson pool of my dead family.

His mansion was huge and beautiful, the aesthetic was mostly in black and gold but it best befits his status. People know him for being dark but from the time we had spent together, I could sense he had another side to him that no one ever noticed. A heart. I mentally expressed my knowledge about him in terms of the aesthetic of his mansion. The black would signify his dark side, the part known to most packs and the gold would signify his heart.