Fight Club Aesthetic Novels & Stories

Bristling with aggression and dwarfing the other man with his sheer build of alpha intimidation in all his glory. Arrick is hitting the six-foot-one mark, maybe more nowadays, and his build has gotten a lot wider and stronger since he matured and started professional fighting. He’s a vision of physical perfection that goes so well with the face of male gorgeousness I could never find a fault in. Arrick has always been the poster boy for my idea of the perfect man. I don’t see flaws or fault in any single tiny inch of him.

Money, dominance and women ruled these men, and that is where 30% of my money came from. Stepping into Fang, the scent of sex and pheromones hit me like brick and caused me to nearly gag. After spending an afternoon with Caterina and her deliciously pure fragrance, these ones assaulting my nose felt criminal. I spot the tall and bulky frame of my Enforcer, Dominik, as soon as I step inside. “Boss,” came his voice through the crowd. He was an MMA fighter of old with long white hair and silver eyes which made him look as he should: Terrifying. I nod, and he follows me to the back of the club to where my office lay.

he thinks bitterly, his fangs grinding. Later that night, deep inside a massive, blood-stained underground fight club on the south side of Crescent Ridge Territory, over a thousand savage wolves roar and cheer as two powerful males face off inside the iron-fanged ring. One fighter is built like a wild grizzly, his face covered in scars and his massive chest thick with matted black fur. He charges across the dirt with a deafening roar that shakes the wooden rafters. His opponent is an unassuming, slender young man with a friendly, boyish smile who looks completely harmless to the eye.