Villain Aesthetic Novels & Stories

*Amelia’s POV* "I'm going to make you come, baby. I'm going to make you come so hard that you lose control of your body. When I'm done with you, you'll be a villain, too," Adrian whispered into my ear. I was torn when I heard him mention making me a villain because that was my greatest fear. I had been so wrapped up in Adrian, I felt like I had lost pieces of who I was along the way. Everything had always been black and white to me. Now there I was, standing against the wall while one of the most notoriously crooked lawyers in DC made me come apart on his fingers.

Even after years of training and torture , those vessels were still left with some humanity in them and Tenebris rejected these vessels at once , leaving them with broken nerves and madness . Wilson knew what they were doing wasn't just a crime but a sin - an eternal one at that but man , the temptation was real . Tenebris had attracted him with power and glory and Wilson had lost himself . He believed that he would fail just like his father but then Jezebel came in his life , she promised him - a prestige like none and in return she wanted be Rogue 's empress . She wanted to be The most powerful woman of this Empire . And Wilson had agreed .

He in deed had the looks that could give any male werewolf a run for his money. Volk was a born Adonis. He had long black hair, which he tied ponytail style. He had a beautiful cocoa brown eyes. There was also something about his stares. It’s been said that Volk could look his enemies into submission. He had a macho body build. He was muscles and strength. His brows were perfectly drawn and one feature on his face that stood out too was his lips. Volk had plump slight red lips that begged to be kissed. He always had his way with women so the females were definitely not his problem.

Especially those idiotic naked goddesses that were painted on the loft ceiling. Rhye grimaced. The images of goddesses with fiery swords defending a gaggle of humans against a horde of dark creatures might be some sort of priceless work of art, but to Rhye it was a never-ending source of annoyance and stupidity. He was a brutal killer and a ruthless enemy to those who would threaten his pack. But for all his grim reputation, he was cursed with finely carved features and a halo of dark curls that perfectly matched his light green eyes. As beautiful as a fallen god . . .

A villain with a glass of apple juice in his hands—instead of a throat-grating shot of scotch, or a bowl of fresh human blood. A villain, especially one with a hefty goal should have black as his ensemble. Not multicolored boxer shorts and flip flops. He was supposed to be in his chambers, peering at the mind maps he'd drafted. Not basking in the mild Tuscan sun. A villain that likened himself to the devil should have his lips stretched in a grim line as he went through his loan over and over and over again. He definitely shouldn't be grinding lips with a scantily clad lady.

“Under those corporate parameters, are there specific stylistic vectors your tongue wants my hand to steer his choices toward?” I seized the tactical opening instantly. “Yes. Absolute confirmation. Nothing that translates to a low-tier mate trap. Zero threads that imply a brainless bimbo aesthetic. My image requires an architecture that registers as highly intelligent, yet entirely sharp. Dominant. Historic. Symmetrical cleavage represents a viable asset, but nothing that evokes the visual data of a primitive breeding den pin-up.” “The metrics are logged. My hands will manipulate what we can behind the veil.”

Her smile never quite reached her eyes; instead, they gleamed with a sharp, cruel delight, like a predator savoring the chase. The elegance of her face only made the wickedness more unsettling, every soft feature laced with a quiet promise of malice. She was beautiful, yes but in the way a poisonous flower is, inviting you closer even as it prepares to destroy you. She was the real villain. It wasn't Xander or Isabel or bluey in this case. Bianca was the type of person that destroys without letting you know. You have no say in what she does.

he said in a generous manner and did not look away. Even if Waverly had turned into ashes, she would never forget his face. He had a beautiful face unlike a villain's. He had a cunning smile that was able to make any girl go crazy. A mysterious yet powerful aura gave him an enchanting character. Once he is happy, he becomes a person that is respected and envied by plenty, even liked by elders. However, she knew of the vile nature under his facade, which was the complete opposite of his appearance. He was like a vixen who was good at bewitching others.

His cold eyes were scrutinizing her every move. Dark Brown hair, deep ocean blue eyes, sharp jawline, prominent muscles and chest covered in few scary gothic tattoos, face design would make any greek god jealous. He was everything that a cliche corrupt character needs to dictate as a bad guy. He was a bad guy under the veil of a beautiful face.

His eyes matched, deep-set and sharp, glowing faintly with something that wasn’t quite mortal. Honestly, it was unfair. The wind tugged at his black shirt—thin fabric clinging in all the right places, open enough at the chest to show muscle and just a hint of scars. That kind of undone, expensive-looking, villain-at-the-ball aesthetic. His boots were spotless. His hair was perfect. And here I was, wearing the world’s saddest excuse for a dress. It had been lavender once. Real moon-silk. Now?