#HARD TO FRICKIN DRAW I-

[moonstruckdraws]

[kindred-spirit-93]

thetis and her grandbaby

the second panel originally was going to read "hes mine now" lol.

achilles probably jumped in after his mother (who went to show off to her friends), forgetting that neo is very cant breathe under water XD

look at his tiny lil hand holding onto her robes dfghjk. held my baby cousin last night and shes so light and squishy ahh. very babbly too :')

[etahk]

doodles I made in onenote instead of finishing the actual post for today

[nuvimuvi]

Living the Highway

from this

Context

V called shotgun to drive Thad's motorcycle

The motorcycle idea was inspired by @/rory-multifandom-mess fic(which hasn't come out yet and I'm patience)

[cinnamonsly]

i don’t think there is anything worse in this entire world than desperately clinging onto a hyperfixation you’ve had forever that you know is slowly fading away from you

[watcheraurora]

The Listener’s Agent and the Watcher

Sooo… this was mostly meant as an attempt to practice a more dynamic pose. I am a writer. I’ve been teaching myself how to draw for two years and it’s not consistent and it’s a slow process so obviously it’s not that great. But I’m still super proud of it despite that. And I didn’t bother with a background because IbisPaint had this one pre-loaded and it was 1:30AM by the time I finished this

[galaxyseclipse]

love wins this fine 2/4 day :)

fun little supplementary drawing :3c

any time I draw them together I realize how indescribably pale Tsunami is

like seriously girl, go outside!

[prylc]

Have a classic sans doodle brush pen practice ^^

-

Was trying to shade em using brush pens but kinda failed for the skull area

Picked the wrong colour for the skull TwT

Might do more in the future tho! Maybe I'll be able to get it next time 👀👀

[starlitangels]

"Child... of Land... you... are needed..."

Yes that's an Imperium quote but it's what I thought worked best for this piece

A little visual representation of how I think it'll look when Starlight merges with the Meridian

I did not freehand the Sovereign hands. Those are traces from vector images. However Starlight's and Avior's entire bodies were all 100% me!

Shoutout to @zozo-01 for basically yelling encouragement at me when I was feeling burned out on this one

Also, I wasn't going to put Avior's horns on because I never draw Avior with horns because I figure his are never visible because Starlight mistook him for a Dreamwalker which means he's probably visually human for the most part but I thought exposure to the Meridian would let them be out

[thejavavoid]

this has to be my favorite drawing ever

[sparklecur]

i forgor why i came on her- oh wait

screw you. battle kittys your nightwing trio

[ragnar0c]

Need to draw Alope hugging each one of her guildmates...

[havoc-7]

I wasn’t a die-hard Tech Lives believer (more of a “I HOPE Tech Lives” believer) but the end of the show has me grieving hard all over again, so here’s my little ode to Tech based on things I’ve noticed about him from rewatching the show:

Tech LOVES his brothers, and he genuinely misses Crosshair. When he has his heart to heart with Omega in the ipsium cavern, the way that he mentions Crosshair—even though that wasn’t even really what they were discussing—shows how often Crosshair is on his mind, so much so that he can’t really talk about people leaving and changing without bringing him up. When they get the Plan 88 from Crosshair, Tech is vocal and insistent about doing whatever they can to bring Crosshair back—because “he is still our brother.”

Tech is incredibly moral. Not that he’s any more moral than I think generally TBB is, but he’s not afraid to speak up when he sees something that he disagrees with fundamentally. “The systematic termination of the Jedi is a big one for me.” “There’s a fundamental different between taking fire in battle and being used for target practice.” Even in just the first episode, we see how firm his opinions are, based on what he believes: that people are people, that HIS BROTHERS are people, that they deserve better, that there is such a thing as right and wrong.

Tech may be practical, but that doesn’t make him any less crazy than his brothers—in fact, I would argue he is one of the more unhinged members of the bad batch. His plans and ideas see everything factually, factoring in risk not as an emotional factor but as a numerical one. He knows their skills, and what they are capable of, and he pushes them to those capabilities, even if the resulting strategy is absolutely insane. The best part is, as insane as he may be, his brothers trust him, because, as Tech himself said, he is seldom wrong.

Tech has a beautiful sense of wonder and awe for the world around him. How many times do we see him go wide-eyed as he encounters something that absolutely fascinates him—even if that thing is a Zillo beast that just ate an entire Imperial crew.

Tech is INSANE. Not unhinged, like I said earlier, but skill-wise, ability-wise, he is an absolute powerhouse. I will forever be grateful to the writers of TBB who gave us a techy, intelligent character who is not your average scrawny computer guy that we get in action movies. You have to have a lot of guts to be the guy in your squad who turns your back on the fight to bend over a computer and hack into a file or break an encryption or alter the programming—already a delicate operation, but with the added risk of getting shot with your back turned. He frickin wields double blasters so that he can shoot more clankers more efficiently (if that’s not practical Tech, I don’t know what is). He DOESN’T WEAR LEG ARMOR SO THAT HE CAN CARRY HIS TOOLS WITH HIM INTO THE FIELD. In “Faster,” we see his hand inching towards his blaster, ready to defend and protect the second it’s necessary—and you know he would’ve beaten anyone to the draw. He fought a group of Imperial troopers!!! With a broken leg!!!!!

Tech was amazing, and I hate that he’s dead, that we never got to see him grow old, that he never saw Crosshair again. But WHAT A LIFE HE LIVED.

[samdeancass]

Angel Trap

Requested by Anonymous

Pairing: Sam Winchester x fem!angel!reader

Genre: Fluff

Characters: Sam, Y/N, Dean

Description: Sam and Y/N have been harboring feelings for each other for a long time. When the brothers make an angel trap, they accidentally trap Y/N inside. Dean begins to tease Sam about his feelings which is when everything starts to unravel.

Being an angel was hard enough with the constant fighting between your siblings and waging wars with each other but, somehow, being friends with the Winchesters was harder. You and Cas were the only angels that were fully on their side which meant that you spent every moment at the bunker, helping them with whatever case they had next.

That was how your feelings for Sam had started and blossomed. Helping him in whatever way he needed, sometimes without him knowing. It had never occurred to you that an angel could fall for a human but it felt like that was what was happening. What you didn’t know, however, was that Sam felt the same way. The sly looks he gave, the slight brushes against your arm when you were standing together; you should have questioned his strange, new behaviour but you chalked it up to him being a typical human.

What you both didn’t know, however, was that these feelings would come to light sooner than you were expecting.

__________

Sam and Dean were on a case that required the help of a specific angel that they had encountered a few years ago. They were inside an abandoned building, completely engulfed in darkness and perfect for an angel summoning. Dean jumped up from drawing the last of the trap, rubbing his hands together to get rid of the chalk dust. “Alright, Sammy. Hit it.”

Sam looked down at the open page in the book, his finger moving along the page as he spoke the words of the enochian chant. A bright light engulfed the room along with a piercing noise that led to both of the brothers covering their ears and closing their eyes.

Once the light has dissipated, the brothers looked over to the trap and were completely confused with the sight before them. Instead of the angel that they wanted to summon in the trap, you stood in their place with your arms folded over your chest, shaking your head.

“What on earth are you two doing?” Sam scratched the back of his head nervously. “We weren’t meant to summon you.” You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, I guessed that, dumbass.” An idea sprung into Deans head and he gave Sam a look, one that Sam had come to despise. “No, don’t even think about it Dean.”

“There’s nothing you can do to stop me.” Dean walked up to the edge of the holy fire, a smug smirk on his face. “While we’ve got you here, Y/N, I wanted to ask you something.” You raised one eyebrow curiously. “Yeah? Shoot.” Dean opened his mouth but before he could speak, Sam dragged him back to were they were stood. “Dean, no.”

You threw your hands in the air in frustration. “Seriously, guys. What on earth is going on here?!” Dean shrugged Sam’s hand from his shoulder and gave a teasing look. “Little Sammy here is getting a little embarrassed.” “Dean, I’m warning you.” Sam was practically growling at this point which peaked your curiosity. “Why would Sam Winchester be embarrassed?” 

Dean chuckled, leaning against a wooden beam before flashing a smile. “Because he has feelings for you and he didn’t want you to find out, but he knew that I would tell you. Seriously Sammy, you should know by now not to tell me anything.” 

Sam was looking all around the room, trying to evade looking at you which is why he missed the blush creeping onto your cheeks. Dean, however, did not, His mouth hung open, the edges of his mouth turning upwards. “No frickin’ way! You like him to, don’t you?” 

Sam looked at you at this point, eyes wide at the slight possibility that you felt the same way. You nodded slightly, afraid to meet the Winchesters’ gaze. Sam grabbed some holy water, doused out the flames and connected his lips to yours in one of the most passionate kisses you had ever experienced.

All the pent up feelings from the past few years were finally able to release themselves as the kiss carried on, your arms wrapping around Sam’s neck as his hands found your waist and pulled you closer to him. Your hands found their way to his hair, your fingers threading through his long locks. 

He broke the kiss and stared down at you, nothing but love in his eyes. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” You giggled and leaned your forehead against his. “I think I do.” A clearing of a throat brought you back down to Earth as you both looked over at Dean who was trying his best not to be pleased that both his brother and best friend had finally confessed their feelings for each other.

“Now if you’ve both finished eating each others faces off, I think it’s time to get back to the case, don’t you?” Sam chuckled at his brothers annoyance before pressing a kiss to the side of your head and taking your hand in his. “Wanna help us out?”

You nodded, smiling up at Sam. “Of course, you boys would be lost without me.”

Supernatural Tags:

@akshi8278​ @bxoken-heartss​ @deascheck​ @desimarie12​

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Kinktober Day 11

Day Ten | 🌹Kinktober Masterlist🌹 | Day Twelve

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting with ANY of these Kinktober prompts will be blocked.

Notes: This isn't technically Bruce and Shop Girl, but it can be read that way. That said, because it isn't technically them, it will not be linked on the masterlist for The Other Half.

Warnings: Blindfolding; hide-and-seek/prey-play adjacent; blowjob; cunnilingus; vaginal sex; unsafe sex; creampie

“You ready?” 

“You don’t need to ask,” Bruce argues.

You fold your arms across your chest, taking a good, long look at him. He’s just a few feet away—shirtless, wearing a pair of light grey sweatpants. The view you have of him is one that most of the women in Gotham would likely envy…Save for the fact that his eyes are covered with a bandana, wrapped and tied as tightly as he could stand. You take the opportunity to blatantly roll your eyes, turning toward the crate of bean bags. 

“I saw that," He warns.

Your jaw drops open in shock.

“Fuck off, there’s no way.”

Bruce laughs, and you huff, lobbing a bean bag at his head. He swats it away without hesitance, shifting and waiting for the next one. 

“Little shit,” You mutter, throwing the next one. He catches it, lobbing it back. You yelp, ducking out of the way. 

“Hey! That is not the point of the exercise.” 

“What is the point, again?” 

“You’re slowing down, old man.” 

You grin as Bruce’s jaw tightens. Christ, that’s a good look. You so rarely see Bruce stern like this. You almost never see him as Batman—at least, not up close. When you see him like this, it’s…Intriguing. You swipe your tongue across your lips, stepping as silently as you can to a different side of him. You watch him closely, wary of him showing any signs of catching on. You throw one at him underhand, and he catches it, then tosses it away again. Dangit. 

“How are you,” You toss one, “So,” Another, “Frickin’,” A third, “Good at this?”

You aim the final one directly at his head. He doesn’t miss a single one, either dodging or swatting them away as he inches closer and closer to you. Your stomach swoops with panic. You stop heeding your attempts to be quiet, hurriedly pelting Bruce with the bean bags as you scramble to get away. When you run out of them, you turn your back to him, scrambling to reach one of the discarded bags. You don’t get far. Your fingers just graze the fabric, scrabbling for it as Bruce’s arm hooks around your middle. You shriek as your back meets his hard chest, your heart pounding as he presses tightly against you. 

“Call me an old man again,” He murmurs low in your ear.  

“Why?” You fight to keep your tone steady. “Did it turn you on that much? Should’ve told me sooner.” 

He huffs softly, turning his head just a touch, his lips brushing against your ear. 

“Tell you what,” He murmurs, thumb sweeping along your side. “You run, and you hide, and we’ll see just how fast I find you.” “With the blindfold on?” 

“Of course.” 

You bite your lip, considering for a moment. 

“What happens if you can’t find me?”

“We can do whatever you want.” 

“...With the blindfold?” 

“Like I said,” He draws back with a pat to your hip. “Whatever you want.” 

“And what if you do find me?” 

“We do whatever I want.” 

-- 

You have to be judicious about your hiding place. The Manor is so vast, and there are so many rooms that you’ve never gotten around to exploring. Now isn’t the time to poke around. You need your hiding place to be strategic. You need a spot that you know well already—one with good cover and where you can fidget without making much sound. You’re awful at sitting still in general, and worse still when you’re stressed. 

You duck into the kitchen, looking around. Bruce gave you a two-minute head start, and you trust him to keep to it, and not to remove the blindfold. Still—with how easily he’d managed to defend against the bean bags, you’re not certain you’ll be able to hold out long. You look around hurriedly, beginning to panic. Shit, shit shit shit. Where can you hide? In a cabinet? In the pantry?

You turn, spotting the long table in the middle of the room. You hurry over to it, gently lifting the chair at the head of the table back. You hurriedly crawl under the table, sliding the chair back in as quietly as possible. You lay down on your belly and draw in deep, even breaths, trying to calm your pounding heart. It’s going to be fine. It’s going to be fine. Bruce probably isn’t going to bother to look for you down here.

-- 

The padding of his feet makes your heart leap into your throat. Your hands curl into fists, and you swallow thickly. Keep calm. Keep calm. Deep, even, quiet breaths. You don’t dare move a muscle. You glance up, spotting Bruce’s feet as he walks deeper into the room. He’s moving slowly, with care. You can hear him sweeping his hand across the cabinets, knocking his hand across the countertops. You glance over, tracking his feet as he walks slowly around the table. Your stomach swoops as you hear him lifting away the chair at the other end of the table. You hesitantly lift your head, turning it slowly to look at Bruce. 

He crouches beside the table. If he didn’t have his blindfold on, you’d be almost certain that he was peering directly at you. It’s a long, harrowing, silent moment before he straightens up. You puff out a quiet, relieved breath. He’s missed you, thank god—

You scream as his hands close around your ankle, yanking you out from under the table. You pant, panicked as you roll onto your stomach, batting at his chest as nervous giggles burst from your lips. He grins, grasping your wrists and pinning them above your head. His smile is bright, giving you a good view of his dimples. You giggle again, shifting beneath him. 

“That was stupidly fast.”

“I didn’t cheat,” Bruce insists. 

“I know you didn’t.” 

-- 

Your eyelashes brush against the scratchy fabric of the bandana as you feel the cool marble of the floor against your bare body. You can’t see him, but you can feel Bruce all over you. You can feel his lips brushing against your neck, his chest pressed hotly against yours as his hips rolls against yours. He’s hard and hot against you, his thigh is tucked between your legs for you to grind up against. 

You whimper softly, pressing up against him as much as you can. His hands are grasping your wrists still, keeping you prone no matter how much you struggle against him. You raise your legs, hooking them around his, and fighting back a warming swell of embarrassment as he chuckles. 

“I didn’t think you’d get this turned on from a little game of hide and seek,” He teases. 

“It wasn’t that. At least—it wasn’t just that.” 

“Oh no?” He tips his chin up, nipping your earlobe. “You wanna tell me just what it was?” 

“Bruce,” You whine softly, grinding down against his hard, muscled thigh. “Are you gonna be a dick and drag this out, or are you going to give me what I want?” 

Bruce hums thoughtfully, and you feel his body lift away from yours. You can hear him shifting, feeling the grip on your wrists turn. 

“I thought that the deal was that if I won, I could have whatever I wanted," He reminds you.

“What do you want?” 

You wait for a few, harrowing, silent moments before you feel the brush of his cockhead against your lips. You part them, swiping your tongue across the head. You hear Bruce groan softly, feel him pressing more deeply into your mouth. You bob your head, taking as much of him in as you can with your neck craned in such an awkward position. Bruce lowers his hand to trace the swell of his cockhead as it presses against the inside of your cheek. His fingers trail down your neck, along your clavicle before delicately swirling around your pebbling nipples. You strain up into the touch, whining in frustration as he never quite makes the contact that you’re aching for. 

You pout as you feel Bruce draw back. Before you can complain, he slaps his slickened head against your lips again, groaning softly as you stick your tongue out for him. He curses under his breath, giving his hips one more harsh shove before he pulls away again completely. You frown as his grip on your wrists slackens, then disappears completely. Your stomach flips with anticipation and confusion as you feel him grip your thighs, spreading them wide.

The first hot swipe of Bruce’s tongue against your needy pussy makes you moan, your hands blindly scrabbling for purchase. You finally hook them in Bruce’s hair, using the grasp to steady him as you drive your hips down against his lips. You can feel the vibration of Bruce’s soft chuckle, chased by the tug of him drawing your clit between his lips. You pant softly as you drive into the sensation. You raise a hand from his hair, teasing your breasts and swiping over your tender nipples as Bruce laps hungrily at your folds. 

You press your heels down against the cool tile, thrusting your hips up against him. If he keeps it up, just like this, you could just—

You whimper, loosening your grip on Bruce's hair as he draws away. Before you can lower your hand between your legs to finish yourself off, Bruce catches hold of your wrist, using it to tug you up off of the floor. You let him maneuver you, straddling his lap. You can feel his hard cock nestle against your pussy, sending a wave of anticipation through you. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, following his guiding touch as you sink down onto his cock. 

Your eyelids flutter beneath the bandana, your breath catching in your throat as you adjust to the feeling of him. You wind a hand into his hair again, brushing your lips along Bruce’s cheek, then lips as you’re able to find them. Bruce curls his arms around your waist, holding you still as he begins to thrust into you. Your kisses turn to open-mouthed brushes and exchanges of breath as he sets a punishing pace. You can’t help the moans and whines that fall from your lips, uncaring of how loud you’re being. 

Bruce seems to care, though. 

Your world floods with light as he tugs the bandana down from the back of your head, using the hold on it to tuck it between your lips. You bite down on it, whimpering brokenly as he keeps a tight hold on the fabric. You take in Bruce’s face—his darkened eyes, the flush that’s risen up in his cheeks, his pinked, kiss-plumped lips. You watch him dip his head to your neck, feel the way his loving kisses roughen, turning to nips and bites and sucks. His pace becomes more frantic, his thrusts harsher, almost aimless. 

You gasp sharply as he tips the two of you, cradling your head as he lowers you back down onto the floor. He plants his knees and grasps your shoulder, driving into you at a relentless pace. You slip a hand between your bodies, swiping over your tender clit until you’re tightening around him, your muffled shout dampened by the gag. Bruce’s hips pound against yours until they stutter and slow. You sag against the floor as you feel him spill into you. He bows over you, resting his forehead against your shoulder, then slowly drawing away, settling on  the floor beside you. 

You reach up, gently prying the gag from between your lips, swallowing dryly as you peer up at the ceiling, your heart still pounding in your chest. You feel Bruce turning to look at you, hear his contented sigh before he asks, 

“What was that about me slowing down?” 

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @recklessworry ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @phoenixhalliwell ; @wild-rose-35 ; @daisyslibrary ; @informally-liz ; @andrastesflamingtitties ; @muchacha-encabronada ; @nerdygirl0414; @elen-aranel ; @ohbee-whatcanyoube ; @kmc1989 ; @quietpainter ; @thedreadandthefugitivemind ; @kaletastrophes ; @nyx2021

[goosefruit]

surprise!

vanessa shelly x reader

tw: none really, slight mention of william afton killing kids

a/n: this is really random but i love the way vanessa says "frickin'" in the movie so i included it in this fic

================================================

You scanned the room around you one last time, checking that everything was in place as planned. 

Gold and white balloons adorned every corner, streamers hung off the ceiling, and a romantic candle-lit dinner was prepared on the dining table. The only thing missing was the subject of celebration, who you suspected should be arriving any moment now. 

"Happy birthday!" You cried out as Vanessa finally stepped through the front door. She was immediately taken aback; however, her expression quickly became one of joy.

"What is all this, Y/N? You didn't have to!" 

You knew that Vanessa didn't like to make a big deal out of her birthday. Hell, you weren't even sure if she remembered that today was her special day, with the way she never mentioned it (in fact, the only reason you knew her birthday was because of that singular time it slipped into the conversation when you were just a month into dating). 

"Nessa, babe. I know you have a hard time celebrating yourself, but today is your day, so let me help you feel special, m'kay?" You helped her out of her work gear and guided her to the dining table. Arranged was a variety of all her favourite dishes, alongside a vase of roses. You gave a shy laugh; the food had taken you several attempts before it was satisfactory. "I'm not the best cook, but I tried my best."

"God, I don't even know what to say," Vanessa couldn't suppress the grin that stretched across her face. "Thank you so much, my love. You are the sweetest frickin' angel ever."

One hand cupped your cheek and the other found its home on your waist as she pulled you in for a kiss, her cherry flavoured-lips fitting perfectly against your own. She smelled amazing, like an elixir of vanilla and jasmine that you had now associated with warmth and comfort.

"How about we eat before the food gets cold, and continue this later?" You whispered when you finally pulled apart for air, your face a centimetre away from hers. 

"You're right. I gotta see if I should make you do all the cooking from now on."

Dinner was filled with laughter, flirty exchanges, and your girlfriend complimenting your culinary skills. You swore that your face was bright red by the end of it, with her praises and the way she made you giggle till you couldn't breathe. 

"Alright, alright, if you thought the steak was good, just wait till you see the cake," you got up and proudly made your way to the fridge.

"There's cake too? You're going to put me into a food coma!"

"Wouldn't be a birthday without a cake. Made it myself too," the excitement in your voice was evident as you set down a colourful cake on the table. Vanessa gasped as she took a closer look. 

On the cake was your best attempt at drawing you, Vanessa, and the four animatronics in icing. You were definitely not a professional artist, but your years of art lessons as a kid paid off, if you said so yourself. It was a depiction of your girlfriend's favourite picture: one taken at the pizzeria while the six of you danced to music, Vanessa in your arms as the animatronics looked on with joy (as best as they could, in their robotic ways).

You looked to her for approval, but were alarmed when you were met with her tear-streaked face instead.

She caught you staring in concern and buried her face in her hands, shoulders trembling as she sobbed. You had rarely seen Vanessa cry like this, not even after almost getting murdered by her own father. 

"Vanessa? What's wrong, sweetheart?" You wrapped an arm around her, thumb rubbing her shoulder comfortingly.

"I'm sorry," she lifted her head to look up at you with teary eyes. It was astounding how beautiful she looked, despite her smudged mascara and red puffy eyes. "I'm not sad, I promise. It's just, as cheesy as this sounds, no one has ever made me feel this important before. I think you're the first person in this world that has ever loved me like this."

"Baby," you kissed her forehead, on the verge of crying yourself.

"And I can see that you put in so much effort to learn all these little details about me, not to mention the time you must have spent putting this whole thing together. Y/N- fuck, I feel like I don't deserve you."

You rested your head on the nape of her neck, your hand finding hers to interlace your fingers together, 

"The last time I had a birthday party, I was eight," she continued with a sniffle. "And," 

A sigh interrupted her sentence, and you could guess that this next part was hard for her to say: 

"You know, when there’s a bunch of unsuspecting, innocent children around, my father...h-he takes advantage of that. I begged him to never have a birthday party again after that, because though I might not have been able to stop him, I couldn't bear to be an accomplice to his crimes."

Vanessa's father really messed her up----that much you knew----but it still broke your heart every time you heard her speak about it.

"What he did will never be your fault, Nessa. I love you more than you know, and I need you to know that you deserve nothing but the best." 

She cracked a weak smile. "Okay, okay, enough sob stories. I want to be in a good mood when we cut this gorgeous cake of yours."

"You know what, I have something else that may be able to cheer you up." You shook your head in amusement. "Don't you wanna see the presents I got you?"

From behind the living room couch, you grabbed a large gift bag and presented it to her. 

And oh did she love it. She couldn’t stop squealing in excitement as she opened your present: a book that was on her reading list, a candle with her favourite scent, a gold necklace that you caught her eyeing at the jewelry store, and a photo album filled with pictures of the two of you. 

The cherry on top was a heartfelt card that brought tears to her eyes, once again.

“And also,” you began to unbutton the top of your blouse, allowing her to catch a glimpse of the hot pink lingerie underneath. “A bonus gift.”

“Holy shit, I really am spoiled!”