Shameless Aesthetics Novels & Stories

Shameless I don't blame her though, Lance is an epitome of beauty, he is the real model, gracefully and successfully carved from a magazine. He is good-looking with any kind of clothes on and even without clothes and just on his earthly suit. ‘Damn….’ I bit my lower lips thinking about it. The goddess had single-handedly shaped and created him for herself for her to mistakenly ship him off during delivery to Earth. That must be painful to her but not us that could behold his handsomeness daily.

^^ with you gem so that I would rank higher or stand a better chance to be promoted. Was done in a braide atop whilst the rest flowed behind, her face glowing with immerse beauty that if anyone sees her would not only be shocked but Envious.. at the same time admire this beauty here. Her beauty was minimalist and nice to watch as if wanting to watch this beauty for so long... so malevolent.

“I’m literally carrying your brother’s child. Have you no shame? Decency? Basic civilization?” Asher stared at me for two seconds then he burst out laughing and it was not normal laughter either. No. This was full rich-psychopath laughter, the kind that belonged in mafia interrogation rooms right before somebody disappeared permanently. “Shame?” he repeated between laughs. “Dolce peccato… What exactly is shame?” My eye twitched. Dolce peccato.(Sweet sin.) What was wrong with this damn family and weird nicknames?! “You’re insane,” I informed him.

There are other women wearing see through clothing as well, but some have their breast exposed completely, and some are totally nude. Club Shameless definitely lives up to its name. I now understand what Jace was saying about the different dynamic types within this lifestyle. There are quite a few Owners with their pets walking around, and I can’t help but stare in fascination at how the ‘pets’ crawl while on a leash, a butt plug with a tail attached swaying behind them. There is even a Daddy Dom with both a boy little and a girl little, both dressed in toddler-looking clothing and sucking on lollipops while their Daddy talks to another Dominant.

"Should I fix on my own or he hired some makeup artists in his house?" "Yes miss he hired someone and you'll come with him to his house." "Oh! Okay." The boxes have a logo named Experansa, which is an expensive brand. It has a shiny red gown inside, while the other box has a five inches red pump and the last one which is the smallest among the three boxes contains a necklace, bracelet and earrings. My jaw drop when I tried it out. "This is so damn gorgeous," I said and turned around. I'm in the middle of admiring myself in the mirror when my phone beeped and it was a message from Brigor

She studied her reflection. Too round. Too stiff. Too fake. “Ugh!” She ripped it off again. “None of them look right!” Anjola raised an eyebrow. “You ordered fake stomachs with money you could’ve spent on real clothes. That alone should be your first sign.” Charity shot her a glare. “Don’t start.” Anjola shrugged. “I’m just saying—once you lie this deep, you have to commit fully. Pregnancy is not a slim aesthetic.” Charity groaned even louder and flopped back onto the floor. “Why does everything about this have to be uncomfortable?”

Thankfully, the money I earned from writing and a few million I made through investments were enough to keep me comfortable for the rest of my life. As everyone probably already knew, sitting for long periods could cause neck issues. I was no exception. The doctor advised me to go for a walk daily, so as usual, I took a stroll around downstairs in my residential complex. At that moment, I heard a commotion nearby. A group of middle-aged and elderly people had gathered around a few tall, smooth-skinned, attractive women dressed in a bodycon dress and black stockings. Each woman held a box of supplements and spoke enthusiastically, saying, "Don't worry, everyone. We sell only genuine products

"Hmm? Oh, nah. This is the look. I call it Stress Chic." Her mother made a small, distressed sound. "Darling, you can't go to Moreau Logistics looking like that. What would people think?" "That I've seen some things. That I've been through some things," Deja said with a solemn nod, taking another feral bite of croissant. "It's called visual storytelling, Mom." The worse I look, the more Dominique shines. Strategic ugliness. It's called sacrifice, sweetie. Her mom was still staring like Deja had brought a stray raccoon to brunch. "But what if Mr. Zuo sees you like this?"

Heat rose to her neck. “I meant creatively,” she said quickly. “Surviving creative burnout.” A tense silence followed. The kind designed to make people unravel. The man on the right flipped through her portfolio. “Your aesthetic is darker than we’re used to. But compelling. There’s a sense of edge… control.” “I think luxury is about tension,” Aria said. “Desire without safety. Wanting what you shouldn’t have.” The woman narrowed her eyes, but didn’t disagree. “Mr. Vale will want to approve any final shortlist,” she said.

It was good to know that massages felt good even when one was dead. This salon was apparently privy to the secrets of the night breeds. Then they had invaded the Mall of Georgia like a plague of locusts, devouring helpless salespeople alive in a purchasing frenzy. Shamira had always been a sweats or jeans kind of girl. It wasn't as if she had nothing slinky, but mostly those were her competition outfits, and those were supposed to show off everything. Now, everything she had seemed to show things off. She had comfortable but tight hip-hugger blue jeans expensive enough to feed an entire African village for a week. All the shirts she had seemed designed to expose as much hard-bodied flesh as