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lovinglokilaufeyson · 7 days

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Physique - A.A.

Pairings: Spawn!Astarion x Fem!Reader/Tav

Warnings: BG3 Spoilers, not really proofread, might trigger some insecurities for some due to content (body/breast comparison), Anxiety, Fluffy, Understanding/Comforting Astarion, Angst, Smut, Breast Worship, Nipple Play, Blood Drinking, Mutual Pining: Astarion x Tav are NOT established (yet), but have slept together in previous acts

Wordcount: 2,564

Summary: You and your fellow companions are out on the town in Baldur’s Gate late one night. After seeing a breathtaking bartender with nice breasts ogling over Astarion, you become insecure with your own breasts. Astarion shows you he doesn’t care what size they are, and proceeds to worship you for the remainder of the night.

A/N: I wrote this due to a recent breakdown about having smaller breasts and not feeling desirable enough in my own body. I absolutely think that breasts of all sizes should be celebrated, if anyone has had similar feelings, this could help you. Additionally, this doesn't only focus on breast size, but the reader's overall body image and insecurities. That being said, it could be relatable for multiple reasons. Also, keep in mind that Astarion is likely incredibly open to any size or shape of any body. He loves us all.

You and the crew entered the Blushing Mermaid, excited to partake in some unwinding given the day you all had. The tavern was very busy on this particular night, although there weren't many days where it wasn't. There weren't many days where you and the party got to celebrate for an evening either. After a long, fearsome battle, you were ready to wind down for the night, but also to have some fun.

That's where the alcohol came in. And lots of it too. Astarion had initially been weary of going to a tavern again, considering his past. But - Cazador was finished now. And to his relief, the environment that that party provided him with was much more pleasant than his typical bar experience.

One of the barmaids almost immediately approached him. She had bright, platinum blonde hair that bordered on white, similarly to his own. Her eyes were a breathtaking shade of blue, and she seemed to have zero hesitation in approaching the pale elf. Her bosom pressed against the lavender fabric that she wore, below a strand of iridescent pearls that reflected the little light that was left in the tavern. Her chest was pressed up by a bronze-toned corset, strung tightly together at her front. This accentuated the woman's already prominent breasts. She wore knee high boots that matched the tone of the corset, and a teasingly white ruffled slip that snuck underneath the purple fabric of the dress.

Typically, she was someone that Astarion would lure back to Cazador, and he hated being reminded of his past self in that regard. She was inarguably attractive, conventionally. So, when she approached him, he did feel pulled to charm her as he typically would. However, he veered towards casual conversation. Now that Astarion knew you, he had a hard time finding anyone else desirable. Even those that he would have once found deliciously stunning bored him. In his defense, they just weren't you.

You had fought by his side and showed him loyalty that he had never known before. You helped him destroy Cazador and set free the remaining vampire spawn. Initially, he was upset that he didn't ascend, but after several long nights stargazing with you and reminiscing, you both concluded that it was for the best. And, of course, in doing so, Astarion had fallen. He spent many nights dreaming of you, fewer were spent with nightmares filled about Cazador. However, you seemed to be a protective shield from these nightmares, so he frequently sought out your presence to comfort him as he fell asleep.

Unbeknownst to you, Astarion was quite smitten. Perhaps omit the word quite and replace it with entirely. Entirely smitten. There was not one part of him that didn't long for your presence always. You had figured that your "one-night stands" were entirely superficial, connecting you to each other's bodies. Though that was what Astarion intended initially, it soon turned into far more than that for him. He was in love with your entire soul, your body, your heart, your mind. Imagine how embarrassed he was when he realized, especially after he planned on simply charming you to trust him and never betray him. Because oh boy, like a fool he felt.

Even more he felt like a fool for not telling you yet. He simply winced when you were hit in battle, as if he could feel the pain you felt. He smiled at you like you were his sunshine, he would trade a life in the sun just to admire your glow, even if just for a moment. That was one of the things that helped him realize he did the right thing, not going through with the ascension. Not that you would have left him, but you certainly would not be as close as you were today.

He felt jealousy coursing through him whenever he watched you talking to one of the other party members for too long. He knew you weren't his property. Despite the few wondrous nights you had spent together, he hadn't admitted to any further feelings to you. He almost did after you defended him so drastically in front of Araj when she asked to have him drink her blood. "He's his own person" you had insisted, and Astarion believed that with those words, you had enlightened a glow in him that had never been seen before, even when he was alive. He felt loved. And he felt love for you, too.

From that day, he believed that without a doubt you had his back. He would make sure to have yours, as long as you'd let him. Honestly, the only reason he let his eyes linger on the barmaid for as long as they did was due to the fact that you would look phenomenal in the same outfit. He looked back at you, and his eyes softened at the sight. You looked as if you had just been body slammed by Karlach. You hadn't, but your constricted pupils told him that something had to be wrong.

Astarion grabbed his drink out of the barmaid's hand, and she stood stunned as he turned away in an instant, heading towards you. He kept his cool, trying to maintain subtly in case you were in danger. You were fairly used to innocent touches by Astarion, but this one felt different. He let his free hand settle on the small of your back, his drink in his other hand. You shuttered as he lent back to whisper in your ear. "Everything okay darling? You seem startled." You nodded timidly, which was unusual for you. Typically, you would meet him with a quip back, but he knew from this simple interaction that you were not yourself. "What's going on in that head of yours?" You couldn't respond. Not that you didn't want to, but more so that you were paralyzed in fear regarding the sight you just saw.

You knew that you and Astarion weren't together, as much as you may have liked to be. The barmaid was likely much more his type, judging from the entrancement he had entered looking at her. What you had - it wasn't anything special. You had merely slept together, and Astarion had only prompted those interactions for his own benefit. He told you that, and you still hoped things could be different. You had hoped that all of those late nights underneath the starry sky could change things between you. And yet, the time never came. In this moment, you felt fairly hopeless.

Astarion waited expectantly for a response from you. "I'm going out to get some fresh air" you spoke suddenly, pulling away from his grasp and taking your own drink in your hand, heading outside as fast as you could. Astarion was approached by the barmaid once more, who was aggravating him at this point, if he had to admit. "Listen, I'm not interest-" he began, but was cut off by her soft voice. "I know. You clearly have an interest in her. I was going to tell you to go after her. Any guy in this bar would be lucky to have her." The words surprised Astarion, as he expected the barmaid's persistent efforts to bed him for the remainder of the night. Astarion looked at her, a little less weary now. "How'd you know?"

"The way you look at her" she said. "The rest of the men in here were staring with lust and desire, especially when you went up to get your drink, when she was alone. But you, as soon as you thought there was something up with her, you looked at her with such concern, compassion, and love." Astarion nodded at this, the barmaid patting his shoulder and ushering him forward. There was a small part of him hung up on her mention of other men looking at you with lust in their eyes, but there were more pressing matters now.

He followed the trail to the exit, looking out the doorway and seeing your beautiful form, unfortunately there were many eyes on you at the present moment. Several men noticed that you had exited and popped out onto the porch with you. You hardly noticed; you were too busy comparing the outline of her chest to your own. You almost drew your weapon at the feeling of Astarion's hand sliding along to sit at the small of your back once more. You drew in a breath and stiffened before you turned to him in recognition. "Goodness you scared me." It was the most honest sentence you had said in the past 20 minutes, and he knew that. He had caught you off guard.

"Should we talk somewhere more private, love?" Gods, you hated it when Astarion used pet names like that. You felt your heart flutter just a little bit too fast. "Please," you spoke, and felt Astarion guide you to one of the private rooms located within the tavern, hidden behind a red velvet curtain that concealed the room’s contents. Astarion flipped a switch to indicate that the room was occupied.

Within, a crimson couch sat, contrasting the wooden floors and dark colored walls. In the middle of the room sat a wood coffee table atop an ornately patterned rug. A few lit candles were grouped on the coffee table, giving the very small room a dim light. It was - cozy.

You sat your drink on the coffee table, Astarion doing the same. He kept his hand attached to the small of your back as he led you to the couch. You both sat down, Astarion holding his hand on your shoulder now. "Darling, talk to me, please. You looked like you had seen a ghost earlier."

You took a deep breath. "I guess I just felt really insecure while looking at that barmaid, that's all" you admitted, and Astarion's jaw nearly dropped, but he managed to keep himself composed, following up with "why?" "There's many components, but to keep it short, I'm insecure about my- my- uhm" you couldn't finish, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Astarion clicked his tongue, which had a slight hint of disappointment in tone. "My boobs, okay?" You stuttered sheepishly, hiding your face in your hands as soon as you finished.

Astarion tried to picture the last time he had bed you. Although, the picture he had replicated in his mind couldn't do you justice. He leant towards your ear, whispering "Darling, I think you might have to refresh my memory. I can't remember your breasts being any less than perfect." You peered up at him, a puzzled look on your face. "Now is not the time for jokes, Astarion." You spat defensively.

"Not a joke in the slightest, my sweet. Will you allow me to jog your memory on your perfection?" Astarion looked genuine, which lead you to give a subtle nod. His fangs peeked out as he smiled at you in response. "Are you comfortable here, my sweet?" You nodded once more, as if you were afraid that words would break the vampire's decision.

Suddenly, Astarion's soft lips were on yours, his tongue following soon after. His hands reached for your corset, which held your bosom beautifully. However, Astarion was even more positive that your nakedness would produce even more breathtaking effects, as it did previously with him. Without even looking, Astarion was able to undo your bodice and strip it from you, so that only your dress remained. He continued to kiss you, then bringing his lips down to lay soft pecks along your neck, leaving a particularly long one against your bitemarks. He transitioned you to a horizontal position, with him atop of you, between your legs.

Before he headed lower on your form, he whispered "you're so beautiful, my dove." He felt your pulse quicken and started to recognize the affect that his praise had on you. He looked up at you, making eye contact and giving you a wink. This man would be the death of you. He released the dress from your bosom, leaving your breasts free for his eyes. "Now, I've missed these." He tutted, flicking your left nipple with his thumb while he brought his mouth to suckle on its partner. Your sensitivity level was clearly heightened, which he took full advantage of, swirling his tongue across your nipple and swishing it back and forth.

“Fuck, Astarion.” You moaned as he continued his pursuit of your pleasure via the excursion of your bosom. Before he let the right one go, he left a trail of love bites around your breast and across your sternum, before continuing his pursuit on the left breast, where he also left a plethora of bruises. If anything, he wanted to take this time to mark you. More importantly, to praise you. “My beautiful love, your boobs are perfect. You are perfect.” His words made you shutter once more. “Star…” Astarion hadn’t heard that little pet name from your lips, but he did enjoy it. “Hmmm, that’s new” he muttered.

“Darling, may I please have a taste?” He gestured to your breasts, showing you his fangs. “Please do,” you responded. You felt Astarion’s cuspids puncture your skin, digging into your breast tissue. The blood supply was scarcer than when he drank from your neck, but he enjoyed it just as much. It just meant he would spend more time suckling on you. Your blood seemed even more delicious than the last time he devoured it. As he suckled from your left breast, he flicked his finger across the opposite nipple.

“Gods, I love you.” Astarion perked up, removing his fangs from your tissue. Did you say that only for the pleasure that he was bringing for you? Did he mishear you? “Pardon?” He spoke while peering up at you. You sat mortified; a hand clasped over your mouth. “I- well” you stuttered out, in utter shock of what you just said. “Did you just say what I think you did?” Astarion inquired. “Depends on what you think I said, I suppose.” You responded shakily, uncertain of your words, but hoping to find a way out. “I love you?” He questioned, watching as your cheeks turned a faint hue of red, cueing confirmation. “Yeah…” you confirmed after a moment. “Truly?” Astarion followed up. If he was human, he would guess that his cheeks would look a lot like yours, flushed. You nodded, glancing embarrassingly at him, hardly making eye contact.

“I love you too, darling.” He admitted, sighing as the pressure was taken off of his shoulders. He shimmied upwards, meeting you face to face and placing another kiss on your lips. “Fuck, do I love you.” He said it again, smiling into the kiss as you reciprocated. These kisses had slightly less passion, although you knew you had a lot of passion to come. For tonight, with love confessions, you would be gentle with one another. The night ended with Astarion on his back, and you cuddled atop him, laying on the couch behind a red curtain.

Your companions were slightly worried at first, before getting confirmation from the barmaid that you two had went to have some fun together. “Well, at least they stopped denying it” said Karlach. The others nodded in agreement, having seen you pining after one another for the past several months.

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tadpolesonalgae · 10 months

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Rhysand x reader: Peacock Feathers[*]

A/N: yeah, I like this one.

Summary: he always has something fun planned for Date Night.

Warnings: heavy voyeurism, heavy exhibitionism, fingering, not wearing seatbelts, sexual tension, 5.2k words

‘The most flamboyant lingerie set you have. Wear it for me.’

You huff at your husband’s minimal description for the dress code of tonight’s date. You rummage through your draws, flinging open the armoire, even the wardrobe in the corner, riffling for something. What did he even mean by flamboyant? Did he want you to strut out into the night cloaked in nothing but some sheer lace and heels? You bite your lip at the idea. It would be just like you husband to arrange something like that.

Flamboyant…flamboyant…

Flamboyant!

You rush back to the armoire, digging through the neatly set clothes, fingers searching for the material until you find what you’re looking for. You hold it up, and nodded. Yes, it would do. It would do quite well, in fact. Now, to find a way to conceal it…

You know he’s taking you out…somewhere. And unless he’s planning on smuggling you in, wrapped in a body bag, then you will need to find a way to hide the finely made lingerie from prying eyes. You sigh at yet another task to fulfil. You’re honestly going to bite Rhys’ cock off if this fails your expectations—for all the trouble he’s putting you through.

Once again, you search through your wardrobe, gazing at the menagerie of gowns and dresses. An array of satin and silk, garish and gaudy, jewels glimmering in the warm lamp light, winking at you temptingly. But no, you would choose something simple, something that would enhance your underclothes. You think about what your husband is likely to adorn himself in. If he asked you for flamboyant…it could be anything. Still, bright pops of colour weren’t really his style, preferring the brush of dark sleeves and silver cuffs than splashes of sparkling yellows or velvety oranges. The most flamboyant you’ve seen him in is a dark red suit, in celebration of a dear brother—and even then it had been so dark the crimson only showed if the light hit from a particular angle.

Having ruled out most options, you figure your best chances are either white or black, if he’s going to dress in a suit. White or black. You scan the wardrobe for anything that would fit with the lingerie. The choice is easy.

————

“Ready, darling?”

You silently move yourself to the top of the curved staircase, taking the one closest to your dressing chambers. Your husband’s eyes sweep over you, glinting with feline satisfaction as he drinks you in. One step at a time, you descend toward him, moving with elegant precision. You keep his eyes the whole while, basking in the heat of his keen gaze, and you wonder if you’ll even make it out the front doors.

A subtle string of rose quartz beads decorate your throat, the white satin of your gown flowing in smooth cascades behind you. The dress slims to your waist, the mini corset accented with small iridescent sequins that decorate the floral jacquard fabric. The heels you’ve selected hold a thin stilt to balance on, platinum lace weaving around your ankles, ensconced with silver thread keeping tiny beads wrapped snuggly against the ties. A single ring adorns your right glove, resting with grounding weight on your thumb. The band is silver, set with a moonstone, tiny amethysts framing it against the creamy silk of your gloves. Beneath the smooth fabric on your left hand lies your wedding ring, a beautiful sapphire welded delicately into the metal.

He drinks in the dusty red of your lips, matte in their texture and slightly dulled to not pull away from the rest of you. Divine. Enchanting. Refined. Perfectly attuned to him, having not gone too over the top when he’d requested flamboyance. Keeping in mind that you were a pair and would be seen together.

“You look positively delicious,” Rhys purrs as you reach the bottom of the staircase, gliding over to him. You give him a sultry smile, one that has heat shooting straight between his legs. He’s brought back to the Soirée last month, when you’d been sat on your knees between his thighs, dark rouge lipstick blurred at the edges of your mouth, perfect replicas stamped on his cock from where you’d kissed up and down the length of him until he couldn’t take it any more. He remembers how you’d swiped at the smudged tint, glaring up at him teasingly, “why is it whenever you take me out somewhere I always end up with my makeup out of place?”

Then there had been the masquerade party the month before, where you’d been set on keeping those damned masks on, hiding the beauty of your face from him. You’d insisted the anonymity had been thrilling, given a dark edge to the experience. It was this in particular that had him thinking. Turning over different venues and activities until he’s found one he believed would be pleasingly satisfying to your slightly sinister tastes.

“I could say the same about you, husband.” He looks ravishing. Charmingly debonair in his black suit, complete with smooth bow tie and crisp white shirt. Not a crease to be found. A kerchief makes a soft triangle atop his breast pocket, complete with a peacock feather decorating the smooth lapel of his jacket. “I don’t suppose you plan on informing me of tonight’s venue?” You inquire, settling a palm over his heart as you lean against him.

His hand raises to your jaw, tilting your lips toward his. “And ruin the surprise at the last minute? I think not.” He presses his lips to your own, coming away vaguely rosey from the rouge staining your mouth. You pout, fingers circling over his chest, “you like watching me squirm, don’t you? How cruel you are, truly. I cannot fathom—” you press another kiss to his lips, “—why I ever married you.” He offers you a feline grin, “maybe you enjoy the tension. The edge.” His fingers grip your hips, pulling you against him.

You’re pleased when his eyes darken as he feels the pattern of something thin beneath the satin. “What did you choose?” His voice has dropped, roughening and you suppress a shiver at the timbre. You peer up at him innocently, “and spoil the surprise at the last second? I think not.” Your teasing spurs him on, fingers deftly catching on the low collar of your dress, moving to pull it from your skin so he can catch a glimpse of what lies beneath.

Rhys gets as far as bringing a wash of cool air down your front before you’re jabbing two fingers into his chest—down his sternum. “Ah, ah, ah, husband.” You push him back, preventing him from peering down your top. “Leave something for dessert,” you chastise, a low growl sounding in the back of his throat. Pleasure sings beneath your skin at your husband’s antics.

Your fingers waltz upward, delicately hooking beneath his perfectly wrapped bow tie, pulling him downward toward your mouth. “Wouldn’t want to spoil your appetite now, would we?”

“I assure you my appetite is depthless when it comes to you, wife.” His fingers latch onto your own, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. You flush with pleasure, “shameless flirt.”

“Promiscuous madam.”

You raise a single, neatly groomed brow, “a madam?” You echo, then press against his chest, allowing him to feel the soft plushness of your breasts. “And what’s a refined gentleman like you doing in the arms of a lady of the night, hm?”

He growls, grip tightening on you possessively. “She’s taken something from me. Something very precious. Plucked it straight from my chest, weaving her sinful fingers between the bones of my ribs.” His mouth brushes over your own, an erotic caress of his lips. “I fear the day she returns it, for the pain it will bring.”

Your eyes dip as they follow their quiet movement. “I took yours as payment for my own.” You whisper back, “I am merely human, and cannot survive without it.” His arm snakes around your lower back, forehead pressing to your own, sharing in the intimacy. “You took mine first, Rhys.” He releases a soft breath at his name on your lips. “It’s only fair.”

He laughs softly against your mouth, and you keen beneath the sound, pushing up onto your tiptoes, desperate for another taste—

“Shall we?”

He’s pulled back, leaving your chest cold, heat warming between your legs. Your husband holds out an arm, waiting for you to latch onto him, arrogantly expecting. You gift him a saccharine smile, already planning how to overthrow him for the evening, “lead the way.”

————

The lamplights reflect in the puddles as it drizzles. Already you can make out the faint wisps of fog rolling through the dark streets.

“What’s on your mind, darling?”

You turn, propping your chin on your hand as you gaze at him before straightening, looking ahead. “I was thinking whether you’d enjoy the silk of my hands or the velvet of tongue.” You glance at him sidelong, pleased when he stiffens. You could swear you see his demeanour shift to match the darkness of the night. “Do you think it wise to begin this dance so early?” He drawls. You return your gaze to peering through the chauffeurs window, watching them cut through traffic. “That is true,” you contemplate, “it is usually your role to insist on foreplay.”

You turn in your seat, catching the dark glint in his violet eyes. You offer a coy smile, enjoying rilling him up before the event has even begun. He leans over, across the space between you, mouth lowering to brush the shell of your ear, “did you follow my orders for tonight?” You swallow as he pulls back to look at you, shifting to be beside you, the powerful lines of his body pressing to your own shape. “Are you so desperate to see me in my underthings?” A serpentine smile twists the edges of your rouge mouth, “I chose an appropriate set. I think it will appeal to your tastes.”

Again, his eyes dip to that teasing window of your chest, dress cut low enough to reveal mouth-watering skin, but not enough for him to catch a glimpse. No matter, he’ll find out soon enough.

Rhysand straightens, reaching to his pocket, “I forgot to give you this, for the night.” He retrieves a headband, accented with a single peacock feather at it’s crest, set with clear jewel you believe to be a diamond. “Put it on for me?” Your heart beat increases at the deftness of your husbands fingers, brushing strands of hair from your cheeks before setting the circlet atop your brow. “Perfect,” he murmurs, and you wonder if he meant to say it aloud.

His thumb brushes beneath your lashes as he stares into your eyes. You lean into the touch, indulging in the heat of his large palm over your jaw. He looks as though he’s considering kissing you, eyes dipping lower, a deep hunger roiling in their depths. “Go on,” you encourage, shifting your body to face his as your arms snake over his shoulders.

But the chauffeur pulls up a driveway, bringing the vehicle to a stand still.

Your husband pulls away with a grin, “enjoy.”

————

The red windmill.

An interesting name.

He’d guided you to the entrance, your silk encased hand gripping the satin hem of your dress to keep it from dragging on the floor. When the receptionist had asked for a name to place for the reservation, he’d given it over, and then the two of you had been escorted to a private suite. The server had shown you around, where things were, and then left you alone, together.

When the door clicks, you turn to Rhys. “Care to reveal your secrets now, sir?” His lips quirk as he settles in a large armchair, a deep red to match the atmosphere of the chamber, lit by warm lights and accented with blacks, reds and oranges. His legs spread as he gets comfortable, facing you. “Every garment you remove, I’ll let you in on a little more,” he purrs, readying himself for the show you’ll give him.

You roll your eyes, but pull the glove from your left hand, wedding band glinting in the light. He raises a brow at the small movement. “I didn’t take you for a coward,” he taunts, but you simply peer down at your nails, examining them. “Secret, please.” His mouth neutralises into an unreadable line, “we’re here for entertainment.” You roll your eyes again, “obviously.” He grins, silently ordering you to remove another item of clothing.

Teasingly, you remove the other glove, staring him down from across the room as you perch on the arm of the chair opposite him. You drop the silk onto the cushion, the pure white an erotic contrast to the dark colours shrouding the suite. “Both your voyeuristic and exhibitionistic tendencies will be satiated.” You blink, then narrow you eyes at the man. “Have you brought be to a sex club, Rhysand?” He chuckles at the use of his full name—you only use it when displeased with him. “Rhys, you haven’t,” you gasp, “what if someone sees?” Sometimes you really could strangle your husband.

But then he stands from his reclined position, prowling forward, hands wrapping firmly around your waist as his shadow swallows you. “Isn’t that the point?” He purrs, your spine arching against him. “Don’t you delight in their attention? Revel in it?” Heat flushes your cheeks at your husband’s accuracy. “I know how you like being perceived as an object of desire. Isn’t that why you didn’t bat a single, pretty eyelash when I made my request for the night?”

His hands glide up, tracing over your breasts until they cup your jaw, “I’ll ravish you in front of the whole world if it pleases you.”

“But a sex club!” You hiss, making him laugh. “Am I laughing, Rhys?” You snap, making him calm himself.

“I give you my word, it’s nothing as disreputable as a sex club,” he purrs, but the lilt in his voice suggests a loophole. “Why don’t you remove that dress of yours so you can get to the big reveal, hm?”

He steps away, allowing you to stand. To proceed with the show. You huff, turning your back to him as you begin slowly unslotting the tiny satin cushions from their holes. One at a time. Piece by piece.

Gradually, the smooth material begins its descent off the slope of your shoulders. His mouth dries as he finds the thin, platinum straps that loop atop your arms. The satin slowly gives way, showing off the latch of the brassiere you’ve donned. Pure, glittering white. He swallows as the gown lowers over your waist, caressing the intimate skin of your waist; hips.

The dress pools at the poised set of your heel adorned feet, the silver ensconced lace matching the delicious underthings you’ve selected. His breath catches as you glance at him over one shoulder, giving him a partially concealed view of your beautiful face. Your slim fingers waltz over the skin of your arm, trailing down as your eyes follow teasingly. The other hand is wrapped over your hip, playing with the thin band of your underwear: matching lace that clings to the plump curve of your rear.

“Turn around, darling. Let me see you.” His voice sounds rougher; more strained.

Ever so slowly, you step out of the waves of satin, turning to reveal yourself to him.

A low groan sounds at the back of his throat as he slips two fingers beneath the collar of his shirt, apparently in need of some cooler air. You smirk as you begin prowling closer, stopping only when you’re positioned between his muscled thighs.

Your husband enjoys himself as he drinks you down, eyes dragging so slowly over every fine detail, and you swear you can see the plans in his mind fading back to dust. He wets his lower lip, gaze darkening as he imagines where you’d enjoy being touched, whether you would prefer his fingers or his mouth over your perky nipples. Whether you’ll insist on keeping your lingerie intact, or whether you’ll be so desperate as he is by the night’s end that you won’t care about it being hastily removed. Strewn across the rouge carpet.

Sequins and pale glass beads are woven to the brocade fabric, indentations of peacock feathers shimmering in the light, iridescent thread glimmering. Tiny sets of diamond are dotted at the base of the brassiere, looping around your back and over your shoulders. Strings of pearls dangle from the base of the lingerie, hanging in crescent circles like ribs made of moonstone—reconnecting at the clasp. The underwear matches perfectly, accented with the same glittering platinums, silver embossed feathers curling over your hips.

“You’re divine,” he breathes, violet eyes reflecting your warm light. His hands reverently pull you closer, your own settling on the corded muscle of his shoulders as he places a kiss to your navel. “Divine,” he whispers, shakily. Your husband looks up at you, your fingers weaving through his blue-black hair, so soft to the touch. He keens at your touch, revelling in the press of the pads of your fingers, feather-light as you trace the sharp cleft of his cheek.

“What’s the big secret, husband?” You murmur, hooking one leg over his thigh as you slide into his lap. He moves for your mouth, lips parting, eyes sliding closed but you set a firm hand on his chest. “Now, now, Rhys. Behave.” He groans softly at the command, eyelids lazing open to look at you. Lust and hunger dance intimately, barely hidden in the now indigo hue of his irises. Your fingers settle either side of his chin, tilting his jaw toward you, his pupils dilated and burning.

“It’s your turn, Rhys,” you whisper alluringly, hips winding over his. He stifles another groan, “wicked, wicked woman.” A thrill of excitement brushes down your spine at his pained tone. His strong arms snake around your waist, clutching you to his body, hand settling between your shoulder blades, indulging in the drag of your breasts. He grips your ass, pulling you tight to his hips, feeling the prominent outline of something delicious between your thighs—against your stomach.

“Come on, now,” you chide, mouth dancing over his own, a sensual caress of breath. “Make good on your word, husband.” A strained sound of pleasure rumbles in his chest, eyes flicking up to yours. He swallows, and you trace the roll of his throat. Then both his hands drop to your ass, hauling you against him as he stands, your thighs wrapping snuggly around his hips. “Rhys…?” Your tones shifts to irritation and he chuckles.

Your husband moves fluidly through the suite room, opening a door the server hadn’t shown you. You try to turn but he presses your face to his shoulder, hiding the view from you. All you’re able to make out is the general volume of people, but it’s a bit far away, as if from a lower floor. Music rolls up to your ears, fiery, rhythmic, and you want to set your heels to the floor, if only to spin with your husband to the syncopated melody.

“Rhys? What is that?” Your husband sets you down on what feels like a balcony, his grip loosening, allowing you to peer about. “Look for yourself,” he smirks, stepping back a little. Your thighs tighten around him, tugging him back to your chest harshly as you take in your surroundings.

He’s seated you precariously on what is indeed a balcony, thick mahogany supporting you. Large, champagne coloured chandeliers hang from the ornate ceiling, light refracting through the glass diamonds, casting their golden glow throughout the hall. You’re on the highest floor, the room is cavernous compared to the booth he’d taken you to. Below, people chatter and make merry, dressed finely in anything from night robes to stunning silk dresses to flimsy underthings with a fan of feathers haloing their heads like crowns. A menagerie of fluidly colours: purples to yellow, stripes of pink and cream, splashes of oranges and greens, the glittering sparkle of sequins and jewels gleaming in the low light.

At the front of the hall lies what appears to be a small orchestra, and you zone in on the figure at the forefront of the music, just ahead of the elderly conductor. He’s playing what might be an accordion of some kind, the music frenetic, a frenzied tango of notes. “Is that a squeezebox?” You peer closer, still wrapped tightly around Rhys’ hips. He peers with you, “I believe that’s a copy of a French Flutina. Popular in the 19th century.”

You listen closer to the music, trying to place it. Your husband smiles as recognition sparkles in your eyes, “Libertango, Astor Piazzolla.” He nods, hand cupping your cheek, “indeed.” Your hold relaxes on him a little, allowing you more leeway to watch the crowd. His mouth drops to your throat, kissing a slow trail from your collar bones to your jaw. Your breathing deepens, then catches. His lips lift into a smile over your neck, “see anything interesting?” Then he receives a light smack to his shoulder, “Rhysand!” You scold, fuming, “it is a sex club!”

Sure enough, he can make out the groping hands on the floor below, the bent over bodies, the kneeling legs, the harsh snap of hips. All while the musicians play on. A symphony of pleasure singing through the room, a harmony of moans for accompaniment. “They prefer the term massage parlour. The clientele are free to engage with other participants in whatever way they wish. No one here is paid to do anything.”

Your raise a brow sceptically, “you’ve done your research, husband.”

“Only the best for my wife.” Your lower body tingles at the title. “I hope you know I refuse to step foot in that…pleasure hall. These heels are white. And very dear.”

He laughs against your skin, “why do you think I reserved a private room for us, my darling?”

You pout at the cunning man. “How obnoxiously sly of you,” you remark. “I’m always ten steps ahead of you, dear,” he murmurs over your lips, giving you a serpentine grin before twisting you round, so your back is pressed against his broad chest. “Rhys!” You squeak, hands flying for something to grip onto, feet weaving through the wooden beams withstanding the balcony railing.

“Enjoy yourself,” he drawls, opening his mouth over the unmarked skin of your neck, pressing hot, wet kisses to you. You moan softly. All those people, indulging beneath you, hardly an idea of what’s happening above them. “Relax,” he instructs, nipping at the pearled lobe of your ear. You whine. “You try relaxing with the potential of falling to your death,” you manage, even as his arm tightens around your stomach, letting you know you’re safe with him. “You know that, should you fall, I would plummet with you,” he whispers against your skin, drawing a bark of laughter from your throat, the rose quartz beads ringing at the sound. “I would have preferred reassurance you would not let me drop, Rhys,” you snap playfully.

“That too.”

You huff a laugh that turns into a hitch as his hand cups you through the finely woven lace. A moan slips from your lips as heat warms your skin, his fingers deftly rubbing over the apex of your thighs. “Rhys…” He kisses your jaw, “look below you. All those people revelling in one another, taking what they want until they’re drunk on pleasure.” Your breathing becomes shallow.

“Any one of them could look up—some already might’ve—see you spread out on the balcony, with my hand between your thighs.” You preen against him, melting into his warmth as his fingers dip lower, oscillating over your entrance. He pushes the damp silk to the side, scooping up your slick on his middle and forth finger before raising it to his lips, groaning at your taste. You release a sultry laugh at your husband’s actions, spreading your legs a little wider, “take more, if you want.”

Rhysand growls at the invitation, gripping your jaw, forcing you to look at the people below. “How many people do you think are watching you right now, huh?” You. Not us. You. “How many people do you think have seen how you’re dressed—how you’re acting—and hoped to themselves you’ll be gracing their mouths later?” The heel of his palm presses to the top of your thighs, rubbing gently as his fingers circle you, before pushing in. “How many people down there, do you think, are pleasuring themselves to you?”

Your back arches against him, his clever fingers curling and dragging against your walls. You swallow, desperate to find your words, “I…I don’t know…” you manage, and his teeth nip at your throat, biting lightly. “Have a look, darling. Seek them out.” You moan, trying to follow his orders, but the light is fairly minimal, and the bodies are fading to an erotic dance of shadows. “Can’t do it?” He drawls, pressing his fingers deeper, up to his knuckles.

He laughs darkly beside your ear, “down near the front, a little away from the cellist.” You follow his directions, landing on a figure with their head raised, pleasuring themself. “Beside the third exit on the ground floor, wearing red.” Again you follow, finding a figure strewn over a table, gazing upward. “The floor below is, opposite.” You moan loudly, the sound getting wisped away in the music.

In the booth he’s talking about, a woman is bent over the railing, her petite breasts exposed to the air—to the audience below—while an older gentleman stands behind her, and you can see how her body is pushed forward with each snap of his hips. Her lips are parted, and were the room silent you’re sure she would be moaning as you are. Her eyes are hooded, but watching you, watching as your husband’s fingers push into you, how your back arches.

He does something wicked with his digits, and you gasp, head tipping backward onto his shoulder as he presses against your clit. “Rhys…” you moan out, feeling so high already, practically weightless, as if you could fly away. “Easy,” he orders, arms tightening around you as your hips buck. “Not tipping over that edge just yet.” The possibility has your heart rate increasing, adrenaline thrumming beneath your skin, buzzing at your fingertips.

Your eyes return to the couple on the lower floor. “Do you think she’s an escort?” You manage, noting her scandalous clothing and exquisite gems adorning her throat and wrists. “Does it please you to fantasise about their outside lives, hm? Create a story for them, to get off to?” You moan at his words, nodding your head. “What do you think she’s thinking right now?” His fingers fuck into you harder, keeping their pace though the pressure increases over your clit. “I—…” you can’t manage anything: it’s so overwhelming.

“I think she’s wondering how you taste, what it would be like to have her fingers burying into you like this,” he punctuates his words with a flick of his wrist, digits dragging against that glorious spot inside you. “I bet she’s wishing you were coming on her tongue instead.”

You whimper, nails digging into the banister as you draw nearer and nearer. “Maybe she’s fantasising about you, what your story is. Perhaps she’s winding a filthy tale in her head of you being stolen away by a dark stranger, auctioned off to the highest bidder for your virginity.” You pant heavily, delighting in the wet squelching coming from between your thighs, proof of your arousal for your husband. At some point, dancers had appeared onstage, dressed in thinner and even skimpier clothing than you. Jewels, gems, and peacock feathers waltzing across the skene.

“Perhaps she’s creating a story of a failed marriage, love abandoned, so you’ve left to seek out some real pleasure, from someone who will treat this cunt right.” You whimper, so close to unravelling from his silver-tipped tongue. He’s always been quick on his feet when it comes to this, perfectly attuned to the darker parts of your mind, the more private thoughts you have. “Perhaps she’s telling herself you’re nothing but a dirty whore, trying to scrape together a penny or two by selling your pretty pussy.”

You suck in a sharp breath of air as your high hits you, fully seizing your body as you tighten wildly around his fingers, grinding your hips against his hand as he pulls you through the euphoria. “That’s it,” he encourages, “show everyone what a filthy whore you are.” Your cunt is still fluttering around his steadily moving fingers. The hot breath from his mouth brushes over your ear, fanning across your neck, “you’re no better than a prostitute, are you?” He whispers, circling your clit slowly, working you down.

You pant heavily as your heart beat begins to even out in the aftermath. You swallow as his fingers drag out of your slick heat, coated in glossiness that shines in the low light. “Open.” You hardly have time to follow the command before the pads of his middle and forth finger are sliding over your mouth, like an obscene lip gloss. He pushes them in, against your tongue so you can taste your own arousal. His hips buck against your ass.

“So good, aren’t you. My good, little wife.” You whine at the title, and he helps you down from the balcony—carefully. He spins you around, pulling you tight to his hips, pinning you to the railing. “Think you’re all warmed up for me now? Or do you need some time to cool off?” He taunts. You buck against him, “I can take you.”

He chuckles at your enthusiasm but his eyes flick to the stage, filled with dancing song girls. “Looks like some of the entertainment is starting,” he drawls, giving you a light pat on the ass before he’s guiding you to a chair. Your legs give out when he pushes you, collapsing into the soft cushions. “Why don’t we resume after this brief intermission, hm? I’ll fetch us some refreshments.”

When you look like you’re about to stand to follow after him, he sends you a look over his shoulder. Promising more. “All I want you wearing is those gloves when I return.” His eyes darken as they drag over your body, male satisfaction glinting in his sharp gaze as he notes the slick glossing your thighs. “After all, you were so keen on finding out whether I would like your silk or velvet more.”

Heat flushes your cheeks at the reminder, excitement zipping beneath your skin. Your eyes dip to his hips, “do you think you’re appropriate?” You smirk, noting the obvious outline of his cock, your tongue wetting your lower lip. He mirrors your grin, “think I should send you out there in my stead?” He drawls, sparking arousal in the pit of your tummy. “Maybe a dark stranger will whisk me away, auction me off to the highest bidder.”

“Precisely why I will be getting refreshments,” he smirks. “I’ll knock thrice, slowly, when I return.”

“Maybe I should lock you out. Make you wait like you’re doing to me,” you drawl, watching lazily from your half reclined position. His laugh is a lovers caress between your legs, “if you have the heart to.”

“It’s your heart,” you remind him, smiling.

“Exactly.”

Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020

#Rhysand #Rhysand x reader #Rhysand smut #Rhysand x reader smut #acotar #acotar au #Rhysand date night #date night #date night with the bat boys #Peacock Feathers[*]

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mechanicalriddle · 2 months

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allwaswell16 · 2 months

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Hi Anitra! I was wondering if you had any favourite omega!louis fics?

Ohhhh I have so many...I'll try to narrow it down to five for you...

where the lights are beautiful by twoshipsdrifting / @polkadotlou

Harry wasn’t wrong about that, not in a general sense. Lots of omegas did seek out rich alphas and betas, hoping or planning to go into heat at the right time. Plenty of omegas saw this as their duty, especially if their families weren’t well off. Worse, Louis couldn’t honestly say he’d never thought about it. If that had been his life, his goal, Louis would feel pretty good about himself now. As it is…Louis feels like shit.

Or the accidental bonding a/b/o fic.

Moon Dances Over by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

Louis knows that his tail is, frankly, stunning. His iridescent blue scales shimmer in even the slightest sunlight, and his fins have grown since he presented, delicate and almost transparent in their webbing.

He also knows that that means he’ll be one of the first to pick tonight, as the most beautiful omegas are blessed to pick their mates first. It’s considered a huge honour, since the guppies they’ll eventually birth will certainly be beautiful as well, bringing favour on the whole clan.

Louis has a stubborn streak, though. He’s always been rather a fan of mating for love, and there’s someone he’s had his eye on for a long time now.

Saving Symphony Hall by @helloamhere

“I think I have an idea,” Louis said. Slowly, and reluctantly, but with a growing sense of the inevitable. “God damnit, I think I have a really good idea.”

“Oh christ, that's the problem-solving face,” Babs said. “Last time we saw that face, he sold a company.”

“Wait, what?” Zayn asked.

“Right place, right time,” Louis said. “Also, fuck my life,”

“What?” Zayn repeated. Niall patted his hand.

“I usually just roll with whatever Louis is about to do,” he said. “It’s better for us all.”

“That’s the attitude,” said Louis, “I’ll tell you tomorrow. Tonight, I need to do some research. Zayn, give me your number. I’m gonna save our symphony.”

And That’s The Tea by @2tiedships2

I’d like an Earl Grey with milk and sugar, please.

Louis had the phrase memorized, even though it had disappeared off its place on his upper arm over thirteen years ago now.

At fourteen he didn’t understand. Soulmarks don’t just disappear. Not unless…

Unless one of them dies.

Or, the one where Louis loses his soulmate before even getting the chance to meet them, and he is in no way prepared for the kind of distraction his new friend Harry proves to be.

Cameras Flashing by @juliusschmidt

With his breakout single platinum three times over and his second album still selling out in stores around the world, Louis Tomlinson has made it to the top. However, his position as Pop Heartthrob of the Decade is threatened by the edgier, more artistic Zayn, who happens to be releasing an album a week after Louis’ upcoming third. Louis needs something groundbreaking- scandalous, even- to push past him in the charts. Much to Louis’ dismay, his PR team calls in The Sexpert.

Consulting with PR firm Shady, Lane and Associates pays the bills so that Harry Styles can spend his down time doing what he really loves: poring over data. On weekends and late into the evenings, he researches gender, presentation, and sexual orientation, analysing the longitudinal study that is his father’s life’s work. That is, until his newest client, the popstar with the fascinating secret, drags him off his couch and frighteningly close to the spotlight.

As the album’s release date approaches, will Tomlinson and Styles be able to pull off the most risky PR scheme of the millennium and beat Zayn in sales or will the heat of their feelings for each other compromise everything?

Bonus: My favorite omega Louis I wrote lol

If I Loved You Less by allwaswell16

Beautiful omega Louis Tomlinson is set to make his come out in London society and determined to find a mate in his first Season. With the help and protection of his oldest friend, Lord Niall Mendes, he takes Society by storm.

Being a wealthy and titled alpha means Lord Harry Styles has grown used to avoiding unmated omegas...until now. This Season he finds himself at every Society event just for a chance to speak with the omega with the flashing blue eyes.

Louis has the aristocracy at his feet and all the suitors he could hope for, but his secrets may ruin his chance at a love match.

#ask #anon #ficrec

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margueritedaisies · 16 days

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Havent uploaded this here yet

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NOTES:

❤️‍🔥Lucifers facial features being too sharp like a reptile but still handsome , like David Bowie. But I made his face also look like those saint statues. Uncanny weeping angel, and porcelain doll makeup would be good. His hair color turn reddish copper at the back resembling Thomas Jerome Newton. Idk its just that adding red kinda makes him more demonic and because it looks like his hair is a fuji apple now.

❤️‍🔥His armor is pretty much based on Polish hussars, and I just like the image of hussars mimicking Valkyries/archangels at war.Majestic af

❤️‍🔥His fur shawl was a gift from Beelzebub, his second in command during The Rebellion in Paradise Lost. It was a congratulation gift after his Infernal Majesty's coronation. It was said the fur was her of her best generals. It was their dying wish to give his fur to the crowned king. And Beelzebub kept her word.

❤️‍🔥His wings during that time were scorched by eternal fire, known to be crackling the tips of his feathers and made them ashen. It took 20 years for them to die down. His wibgs looked like a falcon after he fell, before he fell they were platinum colored and shiny. Laced with gold accents and had hat iridescent shimmer, giving the illusion it was burnished gold. Like blond Akhal Teke horses

❤️‍🔥His armor had a lotta imagery, suns , seraphim serpents and an apple at the center at the collar. His sigil forming Baphomet on his breastplate. And his robe underneath has carnations and stars embroidered . Carnations symbolize pride afterall.

❤️‍🔥His legs may look like regular human feet inside those boots. But they actually hooves with a peeptoe legcovering. You can see his hooves peeking out. The soles are avtually horseshoes but with heels. I kinda wanted to incorporate his humanoid goat hooves. The spurs are also morningstars.

❤️‍🔥The halberd's blade resembles a chopped apple. The holes resembling seeds and angel eyes, and the forked points looks like horns. Theres a decorative serpent wrapped around it.

#lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel fanart #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel

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shotosjupiter · 2 years

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MY SUNRISE — K. KAZUHA

࣪𖤐 waking up before your lover does. gn!reader

kazuha lay in your bed with his face pressed against your pillow, light snores coming out of him every few minutes or so. the curtains were left open from the previous day and so the colors of the iridescent sunrise were slowly pouring into the room and leaving their mark on the platinum haired boy.

red and orange hues were taking their turns dancing their light on his face as he slept on. the cat you both co-owned laid asleep next to resting boy as well, both creatures resonating in the rest within the sunrise.

it was a peaceful moment, you thought. your lover lay in your bed, gaining the rest he oh-so diligently earned, and the sun rise was upon you.

shifting slightly, you changed your position to face kazuha rather than the skies. his mouth was slightly agape as soft snores and murmurs continue to come in and out. still, his expression was one of calmness and peace. his hair was let out of the ponytail he kept on all day and the strands framed his face in a perfect manner even in this state.

you left a soft kiss upon his forehead, gazing at him with only admiration in your eyes. “i love you.” you whispered against his forehead.

there was a change in movement and kazuha’s arm came sliding out the covers to find it’s way around your waist. there was a slight groan as he rasped out, “dove, it’s so early, why’re you up?”

you warmed up to his embrace as you moved even closer to him, playing lightly with his hair. you hummed a response back, whispering for him to go back to sleep with the promise you’ll be there next to him when he wakes up.

“promise?” he asks.

“i promise, my sunrise.” you say, kissing his shoulder lightly.

#— writings.#kazuha x reader #kazuha x you #kazuha x yn #kazuha x y/n #kazuha fluff #kazuha headcanons #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #kadehara kazuha #kadehara kazuha x reader #gn reader

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venusvity · 10 months

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The pink carpet at the “Barbie” premiere in Los Angeles on Sunday night was riddled with self-proclaimed Barbie Girls, but five dolls and their seven Kens got heads turning and the internet talking.

Despite their massive popularity in the States, it's been years since VENUS has had proper US promotions. After their contracts were bought by Flowerbank Entertainment, the girls began making their way back into the western market releasing an English single "Wasabi", performing at Coachella, and now being featured on the Barbie soundtrack alongside rapper Flo Milli with the track "Pink Playhouse."

The group appeared on pink carpet dressed in custom-made iconic dresses from Barbie movies. Dressed as Odette from Barbie Swan Lake, Chloe stunned with platinum blond hair with bleached brows, her dewy makeup giving her an ethereal and unforgettable look. Yoonah stood in the center dressed in an iridescent pink dress, paying homage to Clara of Barbie and The Nutcracker, dawning new blond hair as well. Jiah and Sena caused "The Princess and the Pauper" to trend on Twitter, posing hand in hand in their coordinating dresses and pretty smiles. Jiah dressed in blue as Erika the pauper and Sena as Princess Anneliese. Eldest member Aki was dressed in a long blond wing and purple gown, embodying Barbie Repunzle,

"Did you all dye your hair blond for this?" A Vogue reporter asks the girls, causing them all to giggle amongst each other. "No! Just me!" Chloe would answer, flipping her blond hair playfully before patting her roots to prove that her hair is dyed.

"We're so excited for this film. We're such a Barbie group. Our Jiah has been our Barbie for years now," Yoonah would go on to say, accent dripping from her words as she motions towards Jiah, who smiles at Yoonah and then nods at the camera.

"We're for the girls and Barbie has always been for the girls," Jiah comments as she leans towards the pink microphone.

The highly anticipated premier of VENUS's latest project had fans and fashion enthusiasts buzzing with excitement. However, the VENUS girls weren't the only ones making waves that night, as their brother group DeepDive made a memorable appearance by their side. While DeepDive preferred to stay low-key, allowing VENUS to take the spotlight, their outfits sparked a flurry of discussions across the internet.

Showcased from left to right: Jisung, Blue, Noah, Kiwoo, Woojin, Jacob, and Finn. Fans and fashion lovers alike were divided in their opinions, either loving or hating the ensembles.

Social media was abuzz with tweets expressing their thoughts on the outfits. "Do y'all think Jacob dressed himself?" one fan questioned, igniting a playful debate. Another chimed in, saying, "He's giving off country club Ken vibes. I don't know, but I kinda like it." However, it was Noah and Finn who managed to capture everyone's hearts, earning accolades for their impeccable "kenergy" during interviews and for their gallant acts, such as assisting their VENUS counterparts and even holding their purses.

During an interview, Finn casually remarked, "I'm just here as arm candy," flashing a charming smile. The interviewer couldn't help but laugh at his confident delivery, while the camera caught his shrug, adding to his undeniable charm. "Being a Ken is such an honor," he continued, captivating the audience. "I'm glad to have that title."

When asked about their outfits, Noah took the opportunity to shed some light, asserting, "He dressed everyone," as he pointed to Woojin, who modestly smiled, offering a shy bow and a wave to the camera. Woojin concurred with Noah's statement, gently placing a hand over his heart.

"I like pink. More boys should wear pink," Woojin explained, his radiant smile capable of making anyone weak in the knees. His words resonated with fans, who found his confidence and support for breaking gender norms utterly swoon-worthy.

The premier night was truly a spectacle, with VENUS and DeepDive making a lasting impression. As the discussion about their outfits rages on, one thing remains certain: this collaboration has left an indelible mark on the hearts of fans, and the fashion world will be buzzing about it for days to come.

.ﾟ۪ ♡ ۫ ... FAVORITE MOMENTS !

a video taken by chloe of aki freaking out after meeting ryan gosling. all the girls are laughing at her as she freaks out against a wall, covering her face. "oh my god, i can't believe he's real." aki groans into her palms, shaking her head dramatically.

a fan taken video of finn holding the tail of sena's dress to help her walk with two different purses on his shoulder. despite being busy, he still smiles and waves to fans, looking like a prince as he does so.

jiah getting caught staring longingly at margot as they pose for a picture together.

jisung and yoonah posing for a picture together. they broke the internet with their visuals <//3

venus x flo milli group photo!! they all looked so happy to be together again, giggling and hugging one another when they reunited.

sena and dua lipa doing the flower challenge for venus' tiktok! sena would go onto say she was so excited to meet dua and still can't believe she knew her song.

a fan taken video of noah going "dude, is that ice spice?" with the most shocked expression on his face when he saw the woman herself. he managed to get a selfie with her that he would later post to his Instagram with the caption: "it's blurry bc i was shaking lol :)"

greta gerwin talking animatedly with jiah. nothing they said could be heard but fans would speculate that greta was trying to recruit her for her next movie. other constellations would make joke fake captions of the video.

yoonah gasping "karol g?!" when being told by a reporter that karol would be on the carpet. the pair would later take a photo together and yoonah would go onto say her dreams came true that night.

deepdive pulling out pink lemonade caprisuns for the whole group. no one knows where they kept them but they had one for all 12 of them.

#╰ * venus : development ⧽ burn it to the ground .#ficnetfairy #oc kpop group #fictional idol community #kpop oc #fake kpop oc #idol oc #oc girl group #fake kpop idol #idolverse #fictional idol group #idol au #bts addition #kpop addition #kpop au

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