Villain Aesthetic Novels & Stories

"I contemplate the woman." She makes a slightly disguised gesture; he eats my traveling companion. I must admit that he is not bad. It is not a typical beauty out of Greek novels far from it. It's more Damon style from the vampire series. You know he's good, but it's his presence and dark personality that make him more attractive. I lift my eyestoward above. "How shameless."

she said in an innocent tone. This was it. She was officially a villain, but I wasn’t here to make vampire enemies, so I feigned a smile. “It’s okay,” I replied, then I walked over to her, and she handed it over. They both left the room while I hurriedly got dressed in the black shirt and trousers I had been given. As I stared at myself in the mirror, I realized how hard they were trying to uphold the dark aesthetic. “Just like their hearts. Hollow and dark,” I muttered, then I took a deep breath.

I was never going to feel sorry for anyone, especially not a wicked Villain like me. "Hahahaha… Damien! Look at you. All grown up. Ready to be an Alpha. What were you thinking? That you would run somewhere, away from your pack? Away from your responsibility? Tell me, who's the villain here? Haha" I remained silent. All I could hear in my head was the truth that came out from his mouth. "Listen up, kid," he wheezed, "you can't dodge these dark truths. Embrace them, live with 'em. Those sacrifices, all for you, Damien. Can't you see? Think your wolf's some Moon Goddess present?"

I used to be the cockiest rich kid in high society, but somehow I became the biggest simp in the whole circle. It was all because I was bound to a heroine conquest system. If I failed, I would be finished. To stay alive, I had no choice but to do everything Samantha said and constantly try to please her. Knowing I could give her anything she wanted, she took the sports car I gave her and went for a drive with her childhood friend, Charles Lindsey. Then she left me alone on the highway in the middle of a violent storm. "Samantha, my asthma is acting up. My medicine is in the car. Can you come back and get me?" She gave a cold, mocking laugh. I could also hear Charles laughing on the phone. "W

Damon spats icily. Alex could hear the slight bitterness in his voice. “I didn’t sign up at the agency to be a femme fatale. Much less a whore,” she returned angrily. She gripped her phone before she opened her mouth to speak. “But, you’re right. Montgomery’s got the same goods as you have and I’m definitely going to enjoy. I need a release anyway.” She then ended the call and felt a bit triumphant, knowing that Damon will be jealous.

There was no need for him to add his brand new wife to the list. She needed to focus. This man was a villain. He had been the head of a notorious ring of aristocrats that had treated commoners like garbage. She had researched him and his family, she knew all about their crimes. He had only turned everyone in to save his own skin. He wouldn’t trick her. She would watch him. She was sure that he would go back to his old ways, and when that happened she would promptly turn him in. She was sure the king would annul their marriage when that happened.

The comb disappears into the dark below, toward the shimmering veil of the Forbidden Zone. I realise, with a calm that does not belong to a dying woman, that I will follow it. Liam tilts my face up to his. He does this gently, with one hand, the way you tilt a lover's face to kiss her. His blue-and-purple scales are flecked now with my blood. His silver-tipped fins catch the last of the twilight the way the comb did. He is beautiful. He has always been beautiful. I hate him with a depth I did not know I had, because I am, or I have been, a queen who kneels in the market to sing babies to sleep and who has been told all seven months of her reign that she is too soft for this throne.

All that she went through, All those moments in which she laughed and cried, ..Just a dream. She tries to combat the seething avalanche of tears that have been building up: "What do I expect?" Her story.. It was a tale of a villainess, overall. Villains don't have happy endings. An emotional exhaustion overwhelms her. Her throat holds back something between a sob and a shout. Then suddenly, she feels something sharp pressed against her leg, under the white sheets. When she reaches under to grab the item, her eyes widen.

F-k, Vixen had him fantasising about his best friends in bed, now. Not that Vice and Victor were not fuel for some seriously good fantasies. There was a reason they had been so successful in the industry – and that reason had a lot to do with aesthetics. Victor was easily as tall as Shadow, and as built, whereas Raven shared more the same physique as Vice, to the point that he had not been above raiding Vice’s wardrobe when he had needed a suit for court or something that looked high roller for a surveillance. Vice did high roller well. Hell, Vice did everything well.

She could still feel the weight of a thousand predatory eyes on her skin, the silent calculations of men in silk suits and women with diamond-encrusted hearts. They had looked at her and seen a gold-digger, a fluke, a weak link in the Voss empire. "I’m not a link," she whispered to the empty, shadowed room. "I’m a ghost in a dead man’s house." She moved toward the center of the room, her cheap sneakers feeling like a sacrilege against the hand-woven Persian rugs. The master suite was a monument to Kael Dominic Voss’s brutal aesthetic: dark woods, deep charcoals, and sharp, clean lines that offered no comfort, only control.