Astarion Wig Novels & Stories

38pm "Hey baby boy did you forget me? " the girl asked as she scooted closer to Tristan too close sticking her chest to his which made Tristan's breath to hitch. "I haven't seen such a sexy man as you ever in my life. I want you right now, right here" she said seductively in as her fingers traced his jaw line and rested on his wide chest. And here he lost his self control and the hungry inner beast in him took over him. In a fraction of seconds Tristan flipped her and ended up hovering over her petite body. "I love your hair" she said as she tucked the large strand of hair behind his ear. Wait he has long hair? Tristan got confused and placed his hands on his head only to feel that he has a

Think sexy, act sexy, be sexy. Once she’d tugged on her outfit, she pinned up her hair, securing it with a hairnet. She unzipped the bag and slipped the wig from the Styrofoam dummy’s head, settling it onto her own. After jabbing a million bobby pins into her scalp, Ainsley angled closer to the mirror, smoothing flyaway strands with her fingers. The sleek wig was shoulder length, coal black with jagged ends dyed blood red. It was funky, hip and fun. No one would mistake it for her real hair, but wasn’t that the point of tonight? To be daring and eccentric? She was fully incognito in this get-up. She doubted her cats would recognize her.

He regrets his thoughtless decision to attempt to drink the remaining wine, and he quickly locks the door, before he disappears into the shadows. Soon, he exits Shrouded Peaks and seamlessly slips into the Black Pack. Halting at a corner, he retrieves a wig from his inner pocket and adjusts it to secure it on his head. The wig, a sleek charcoal shade, transforms his appearance. It obscures a part of his face and subtly alters the outlines of his sharp jawline. Infiltrating the Packhouse with calculated grace, the mysterious figure's sharp and vigilant eyes scan the surroundings for signs of underground spies. A modest shift in the environment catches his attention, and he notices one of thei

He needed more information, hoping it would lead him closer to the truth. “Detective?” “Oh hi, Zara. I need a favor, please. Could you please tell me the type of synthetic wig those strands of hair are from?” “Sure. They are from a monofilament synthetic wig.” “Okay. Thank you so much, Zara.” “You are welcome, detective.” “Ummm…Zara, about the…” he hesitated, unsure of how to address the kiss.

He’s wearing a coffee filter as a hat, and someone drew a pirate’s eye patch, scars and a scruffy beard across his face. The guilty party is lying passed out on the floor nearby clutching a sharpie. Exhibit B. Alastaire’s fingers are stained black where they grip the marker. His burnished blonde halo of hair is messed up and lopsided in a way he’d never let it be while awake. He’s lying on his back, smiling that devilish angel’s grin of his, the very picture of rakish, aristocratic charm even in his sleep. Exhibit C.

“You look so pretty, Ion.” I couldn’t help but blush while watching my reflection in the mirror. I’m wearing a long black wig styled with half braids on both sides behind my ears. Wearing a white off-shoulder short sleeves top with frills and narrow shoulder straps tucked in a black mini skirt right above my knees. Lean made me wear 2 inches’ black block heel sandals. Even though I’m used to wearing high heels, I don’t know if I could handle it well while walking around.

He stay in his position for hours now but he doesn't mind staying this way just to not disturb Celestine's sleep. "So beautiful," he mumbled while he was caressing her cheek, down to her hair. Celestine's hair is longer now than the first time he had seen her. But he likes her hair long. He had seen in interviews that Celestine just only had a particular hairstyle and it is straight hair that is above her shoulders. From her first interview as a model until her recent interviews, her hair did not change except her hair to the magazine covers which she is required to wear a wig.

Thankfully, I had no problem getting inside the nightclub since they didn’t demand an ID because if so, I would be screwed. Seeing as the club is owned by Vetino, I highly think most of the people in here are werewolves, and recognizing my name would be the last thing I needed. Rumors will spread and dirty words will publicize. As a Luna, I have to keep a neat profile so I did the first thing that crossed my mind. I bought a wig. Yes, a blond wig to be specific. With the small bag of makeup I brought with me, I applied some red lipstick with eyeliner and eyeshadow inside the car.

Their posture was rigid as they tried to hide the fear in their bones. After knowing that Mayonne was not just a mere human but the last descendant of the Moon Wolf Pack, Queen Lustia was rest assured. The enemies couldn't kill Mayonne for her great power was deeply hidden and her abilities were unknown. That was why she didn't hesitate to declare war even though they were facing an overwhelming number of enemies. At this time, she finally saw Prince Ariel who was riding his horse along with his men towards them. The Haguar soldiers saw him too—His silver armour glints under the sunlight, each polished plate reflecting beams of light like a thousand tiny mirrors. Its surface is smooth and pr

I start to feel uncomfortable. "Yeah," Xavier chuckled, "I don't remember you having anything like that at home." His eyes crinkle. Something tells me he doesn't like me wearing a dress like this. "I, uh..." I try to stop, but Xavier's eyes nudge me, "borrowed." I stare at the dress, how perfect it looks even after going through this shit. The stilettos are still in my hand, along with the furry mess called a wig. He looks at the wig like it's a monster.