#based off of that one sculpture

[skiimble]

kind to men and to the deathless gods (campo and his family, in the beginning)

[smile-files]

i thought it would be nice to share two projects i made in art class this semester!

title: angel of change

this one's a fun collage/sculpture about the positive and negative changes one can go through when starting college! featuring a nervous little peg person on the road, a surge of waves, and a biblically accurate pet rock angel smoking a cigarette

title: wing surfaces of morpho didius

and this is a sculpture of a morpho butterfly! with its ventral wing surfaces (the visible side of the wings) painted realistically, and with its dorsal wing surfaces (the hidden side of the wings) covered with messily-colored butterfly coloring book pages. the idea here is that my fascination with butterflies, despite being very scientific now, is still one imbued with naïveté, playfulness, and childlike wonder :)

[fluff-and-such]

Hi I started drawing this instead of doing any of the things that I needed to today.

Inarius and Lilith are my trash-ship tho so it's okay.

[averlym]

(click for better resolution, etc.)

[zooophagous]

"Copying a photo to near perfection in a painting is a valid and true display of skill and artistic merit"

And

"Not every photo you find online is yours to be used as a stock photo however you want"

Are two takes that can and do exist together lol.

[catominor]

wait look ag julius caesar

[i-drink-soysauce]

[screampied]

໒꒱ cw. fem! reader, unprotected, sugar baby gojo, missionary, tīt play, praise kink, mdni.

sugar baby!gojo who lives off your praise,

you can buy him anything in the world—but hearing you call him a ‘good boy’ was the most expensive, priceless gift he could ever get.

anytime he’s buried between your thighs, it’s like pure heaven to him. satoru can’t help but shove his face between your soft breasts, humping sloppily against your body as you run your fingers down his hair. down his undercut, oh that spot . . it makes whimpers spew straight past his lips at the simple touch of your fingers. “f- fuck, miss,” he’d grunt, almost forgetting that his hardened cock was stilled inside of you. his bottom lip quivers as his body continues to sloppily thrust against you, his hips lazily trying to become in sync with your own. satoru almost purrs, feeling your thumb swipe down his undercut and the way you clench around him. “y- you feel so good.”

“eyes up here, ‘toru baby,” you coo in a sweet tone, almost angelic. pretty azul irises dilate, meeting yours whilst you cup his chin. he leans into your touch as his eyes shimmer in the light. “thaaaat’s it pretty boy, jus’ hold my hips,” and he shivers once you drag your tepid hands further down, grabbing ahold of his frigidly cold hands. satoru moans, continuing to drive his dick into your sopping cunt before he leans in for a kiss. “mmpf,” you let off a muffled squeal, tossing your arms over his tensing broad shoulders.

satoru’s soft lips crash onto yours, tasting the remnants of peachy moët & chandon on your tongue—you tasted sweet, rich. .

“no, call me a good boy again,” and with how whiny his voice is and how far apart his snowy white brows furrow, he’s not asking he’s begging. “please miss . . please.”

“mhm, satoru,” you breathe through gritted teeth, his sizzling hot body continuously rocking against yours. the queen-sized bed grows rickety and your nails claw a long slope down his tensed back.

he’s stupidly feral, rutting into you again and again with his hungry jittery hips plowing into you with such needy, greedy thrusts. and as he’s between your thighs—going back and forth, hearing the sloshing sounds of your pussy shriek in rapture, satoru’s got that look in his eyes awaiting for you to say it again.

those sweet sweet words, sweeter than honey.

satoru’s sloppily kissing down your neck as his hips thrust into you quicker. he huskily groans, the sweltering hot tip of his cock kissing up against that same spot. your toes curl in pleasure as you feel his pumping surge deeper into your loving core.

“good boy,” you whisper, letting off a soft whine once he goes back to sucking on your tits again. with a loud ‘pop’, one tit of yours jiggles out from his mouth with a silvery string of saliva swallowing. a sleazy grin spreads across his lips as he heard your words of approval. he’s nodding with your swollen nipple, his eyes telling you, ‘say it again, again. . ’

“ngh, good boy,” you repeat in broken breathy whimpers, feeling the shaky weight of his sculptured hips continuously buck into yours. satoru can’t get enough of you, your scent — oh, that expensive acqua di parma perfume you’d spritz all over yourself purposely just for him to smell - it drove him insane.

satoru’s whining, his face sitting up from between your chest and he’s staring dead at you. dewy hooded eyes lock onto yours before he’s starting to see nothing but white. as satoru’s weakly moving his hips against you—his eyes were staring to roll back, he was about to almost drool. all because of your sweet cunt—the epitome of pussy drunk.

his base was the fullest its ever been. it thwacks and thwacks against your sloshing wet cunt until you’re dizzy, until he’s dizzy. wrapping your legs around his slim waist, you grind yourself back into him. “fuck me, right there ‘torubaby, fuck.”

“ ‘m gonna cum just from your voice—shit,” he huffs, and he can feel your pussy slobbering all down his pace with your slick. your hands run down his waist and he moans from your touch. it was almost cute at how sensitive he was to something as simple at touch. to the outside world—he’s satoru gojo, the strongest. but between your legs, he’s weak—happily weak just for you and only you.

with how wet you were and how his cock’s just twitching and throbbing inside of your clingy gummy walls, it’s just so damn lewd. he sucks his teeth as his bare knuckles split, turning pale. “god, keep touchin’ me please, touch my body. keep t- touchin,”

cupping his cheeks, you have a sheepish expression. “baby, you’re rambling again,” you softly murmur, and he’s panting, rolling his hips faster into you. he leans into your touch, his plump cheek squishing against your palm. your arms go back to hauling themselves over his shoulders before you bring him into a kiss.

satoru’s shivering at how your lips crash onto him yet again—your hands feeling all over him. his hips grew so unapologetically sloppy that it was only a matter of time before his knees pathetically buckled.

as his tongue blissfully curls against yours, strands of sappy saliva tangling amongst each other, he whimpers right into your mouth. satoru’s hips pop against you as he tries to slow down, feeling himself finally let go.

it’s so good, his cock emits out lustrous ribbons of cum right into your cunt and your lips part, gasping. “oh, o- oh shit,” he grunts, feeling the warmth of your ankle run down his chiseled back. satoru’s panting heavily, cowardly tucking his head back between his favorite place — your tits.

“mmpf,” he tries to suppress his moans as he’s still cumming. it’s so much that he can’t help but shake. euphoria overtakes his body as he’s dumping satiny strands inside of you. his tongue swirls against each of your pretty tender nipples before he gives each of them a long three second suck. you whine, feeling him pour every dribbling drop inside of your pussy until it’s no more for him to spill.

a hand of yours runs through his unkempt ivory strands as he’s trying to silence his sweet noises by having his mouth stuffed full. “f- fuck, that’s it, ‘toru,” and he hums with his pretty lashes fluttering themselves shut, feeling butterflies once your fingers drag through his delicate scalp.

satoru’s entirely sloppy without zero shame either. with half-lidded droopy eyes, you watch as a bit of his own saliva runs from the corners of his pink crooked lips. “s- satoru,” you moan, his flaccid cock still plugged into you. it’s hot, his tip was barely even leaking anymore, and yet between your thighs—it was an entire mess he’d gifted you. you always showered him with praises and gifts so he decided he’d shower you with a gift of his own this time.

the gift in question was currently spilling down your thighs and staining the rich velvety sheets.

“say it again,” he whines, pretty eyes pleading at you. satoru’s got a pout displaying against his lips as his head presses on top of your breasts. but his pout suddenly turns smug once he playfully nips at the sheeny pearls that wrap around your neck.

“call me your good boy again, miss . .”

[slugandthorn]

Thinking a lot about pursuing artistic endeavors in a professional capacity but not making it your whole life and livelihood forever and ever. If you're already doing one of these things professionally, or working towards that, try to pick something else!

[scrapplesims]

U-Haul Trailer

My own story screenshots required a U-Haul trailer and I was driven to the brink trying to find a CC equivalent to no avail, so I made one! Why did this not exist already?

Sometimes our Sims aren't fancy enough to hire a full moving van, or they need something a bit more secure than an open pickup truck, or maybe they just had a really great first date with someone and they are ready to move in ASAP, who knows, anyway here you go

Original mesh: TS3 moving truck conversion by enure-style, additional U-Haul texture edit by bunnytears96, mesh and texture further edited by me

Trailer hitch (pictured) not included, it's RV There Yet Trailer Base by Ravasheen (TSR link)

3 swatches

Located in Decorations > Sculptures

Metal texture from @myshunosun's resources

DOWNLOAD (SFS) 🧡

Disclaimer: Any issues? Makes your game explode? Hate it? Don't tell me please. I'm fucking tired

Enjoy!!

EDIT: Just realized that the file I downloaded and worked off of is an additional texture edit of enure-style's mesh done by bunnytears96 so I must give credit for her base U-Haul texture as well! Thank you!

[midnightorchids]

i am frothing at the mouth at firefighter!Jason🤤

I’ m imagining Jason accidentally bumping into reader who so happens to be a school teacher and he can’t help but flirt just a little bit whilst the class of kids he’s educating on fire safety look at them both with wide eyes😃

I absolutely love this idea so much! I wrote something based off of this ask and low key went a little overboard with world building, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless!

Field trip mornings always created an exciting buzz amongst your students. Their gentle chatter filled the chilly parking lot of the old school and you giggled at their enthusiasm.

The moment brought a sense of nostalgia, it engulfed your heart in a warm embrace. It reminded you of your days in elementary school. The memories of bitter autumn mornings and your teacher’s frustrated attitudes played before your eyes. You smiled thinking about your past and how those small experiences inspired you to pursue a teaching career.

This field trip was a special one as it happened to fall on Halloween Day. The children complained about having to come to school on the holiday, but as soon as you mentioned that they could come costumed, the excitement was back. Your third grade class did not disappoint, they were all dressed in bright costumes for their first ever visit to the fire station.

The bus ride was fairly normal. The children were a mix of both calm and rowdy. You intervened every once in a while when their noise level got too loud, otherwise the students were well behaved.

Entering the fire station was like entering a dream. The foyer of the building was warm and inviting. The heat radiated off of the walls and it made you slip off your coat. There were Halloween decorations coating the pale walls and you watched your children ooh and ahh with excitement.

Your eyes were still scanning the room when a tall man walked over towards you. He wore his uniform around his waist with a black compression shirt that hugged his body. You could see a sleeve of tattoos on display and a thin silver chain peaking through from under his shirt. Despite not wearing your coat anymore, you still felt your body heat up.

You stared at his name tag—Jason, it read. You recalled the name from the numerous emails and phone calls you had exchanged in order to make this tour happen. You always thought his voice was sweet, but you had never imagined him looking like this.

He was attractive—breathtakingly so. His eyes radiated a bright shade of emerald and were full of life. He had heavy bags under his eyes, which, you assumed, were from working long hours at the station. His facial features were sharp. His cheekbones stood high and his hooked nose sat perfectly poised on his face. He looked like a Roman sculpture. Your eyes trailed down to his lips and you noticed a small scar on the right side of his mouth. You felt your fingers twitch, almost as if they were itching to trace the mark.

Jason cleared his throat, pulling you out of your deep trance and you felt goosebumps trailing your skin. You quickly spoke up, trying to ease the tension.

“Hello, my apologies, I completely zoned out, it’s been a long morning,” you said, desperately hoping that he believed the poor excuse you made to justify openly checking out the man.

You suddenly felt even more uncomfortable, you looked to your side only to notice all of your students staring right at you. You felt yourself getting flustered again, but quickly moved past the feeling. You extended your hand to shake Jason’s calloused ones. His eyes raked your figure and he gave you a sly smile.

“It’s okay,” he responded gently. “Shall we get started with the visit,” he changed the subject quickly and you couldn’t be happier.

Jason turned his attention towards the children and greeted them with an enthusiastic expression, his passion for his job clearly reflected in his way of speaking.

He led your tiny class towards the breakout rooms of the fire station. On the way to the rooms, Jason pointed out one of the girl’s Wonder Woman costumes and he shrieked in an endearing sort of way. He kneeled to the girl’s height and handed her a small sticker. She smiled, thanking him. Jason then locked his eyes with yours and called the girl pretty, and you knew at that moment that the comment was not only for her, but for you too. You felt a rush of heat run through your cheeks and up to your ears.

The breakout rooms were similar to the foyer of the fire station. There were little skeletons propped up against the whiteboards and small jack-o-lanterns on each desk.

Once the children had settled, Jason handed the rest of them with fun stickers and pamphlets about fire safety for them to take home. He joked with the kids, and managed to sneak in a fire pun every now and then. He was a good listener, he paid attention to everything the children had to share. You turned your head to the side and silently admired his ability to work with the kids; not everyone could handle a group of eight-year-olds first thing in the morning.

Jason quickly gave the class a presentation about the dangers of fires and the importance of protecting yourselves when dealing with hot objects. It was odd, he wasn’t even trying to hide his flirtatious comments, he’d stare right at you upon the very mention of the word “hot.”

You noticed Jason had a habit of walking around the room, maybe it was to keep the students engaged or maybe he did it for his own reasons. But it had got to the point where he’d brush past you, almost purposefully. The parts of your skin that made contact with his body were on fire.

After the presentation, Jason decided it would be best if the kids got a quick break before continuing the tour of the fire station. You happily agreed, needing a break yourself.

You sat on a chair close to the exit, when one of your students came to you on the verge of tears—the culprit being a paper cut. You cooed at the child, gently cupping their much smaller hand and guiding them to your first aid kit. Unknown to you, Jason was watching the interaction play out.

He hadn’t known you long, but he thought you were stunning. The way your eyes crinkled when you smiled, the way your features sat against your skin, and the way you spoke with such eloquence. It was everything he found attractive, but seeing you showcase such patience with the “wounded” child, made his heart race. Not only were you beautiful, but you were kind—to Jason, in the very little time he had known you, you felt like an angel.

“Do you like them,” a small voice suddenly spoke. It was the Wonder Woman from earlier and Jason smiled.

“Ah the lovely Wonder Woman is back,” he replied, ignoring the child’s question. The little girl giggled.

“I think you have a crush on my teacher,” Jason raised his eyebrow. What did this little girl know about crushes? The child laughed again and said, “I think she might like you back.”

“What makes you say that,” Jason inquired, now suddenly interested. The little girl shrugged and made a face.

“I dunno,” and with that, she ran off, leaving Jason confused.

After the break, Jason guided the students to the main hall to show them the fire trucks. The energy was high in the room, the kids were beaming with excitement. The tension between you and Jason only seemed to rise though. With every passing flirtatious comment and every lingering look, you felt yourself getting more anxious. How inappropriate would it be if you asked for his number at the end of the field trip… you caught yourself thinking.

It was as if Jason had read your mind because at the end of the tour, he pulled you aside to thank you for bringing in the children and letting him have the opportunity to teach them. You grinned and also expressed your gratitude. You began to walk towards the students, when Jason grabbed your wrist and held onto you gently. He slipped a piece of paper into your palm and sent you a quick wink before heading out.

You stared at the small paper and slowly opened it.

Inside, the words read in messy lines, “call me,” with a string of numbers. You looked into the direction that Jason left, and smiled to yourself.

You were definitely going to call him.

[zweetpea]

Mrs. “Wayne”

Content warning: Swears, Arranged Marriage, talks of having an heir, Mentions of Bruce’s Affairs, Nightwing x Starfire mentioned

Based on this since no one else has done it (or at least not that I've seen...)

BTW guys if you want to write something based off something I write I ask that you tag me in it. (Unless it's like a broad thing... like if you see my post about Bruce bringing home a girl that he met and married that day then write a fic around that idea I ask that you credit me, but if you see my Yandere Bruce x reader and decide to make a "baby fever! Bruce x reader" that's more general so I don't think it would be fair of me to ask for credit.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Honey I know you're angry with us but it's what’s best for you. He's the richest man in the country." Your mother fixed your veil.

"He's a whore. And what's worse is that he doesn't even consider how it even affects his kids. I just picks up orphans off the street like they're lucky pennies or a 20 dollar bill for him." You grimaced.

"You know what a..." She sounded appalled. "20 dollar bill is? Oh how I've failed you as a mother."

"Don't be so dramatic." You rolled your eyes.

"Are you ready to go?" Your father entered into the private room. "You look beautiful Princess."

"Thanks dad."

"Come on." He grabbed your hand as you grabbed the bouquet. You wrapped your arm around his as you two walked down the isle to your soon-to-be husband, Bruce "Brucie" Wayne.

You looked down through the entire ceremony, up until the Vows. Brucie's were short and sweet. "We may not know each other too well but I swear to be loyal, thoughtful, and truthful through our entire marriage." At which you heard a faint snort from the front row. You slightly glance over and see a young man a few years younger than you trying to hold laughter, his white streak bobbing as he shook with laughter. Brucie's glaring at him.

You turned back to your inevitable spouse and said your vows. "I promise to stand by your side in all your endeavors, even if that means adopting 10 more orphans you pick up from the streets like they were stray cats." You said in a monotonous voice.

You two finish off the ceremony with the standard ceremonial officiator speach.

"Do you Bruce Wayne take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?"

"I do."

He turns to me. "Do you-"

"I do." You cut him off. Surprising everyone with how forward that was. Some whispers were heard amongst the crowd, undoubtedly calling you a gold digger for being so eager to get this ceremony over with.

"Well at least she's eager! That's almost gotta ensure this marriage lasts right?" The officiator jokes to ease the tension. "If anyone objects to this marriage please speak now or forever hold your peace." The same young man who was laughing held up his hand but it was pushed down by a man about your age sitting next to him. "Then you may now kiss the bride."

You and your new husband shared a chaste kiss before you ran down the isle and out to the limo. And after a short drive you made it to the spot where you were scheduled to take your wedding photos and have the reception.

The reception was void of life, stuffy, like all those galas your parents forced you to attend. Hopefully this didn't end up like one of the incidents of Brucie flirting with milfs, sticking his tongue down a young squeezes throat, or twerking on ice sculptures.

Eventually Brucie takes you over to the loudest table in the place. "Wifey, these are my kids and co. Dick my oldest, the trouble maker who laughed during the ceremony is Jason, my oldest daughter Cass, the middles Stephanie and Tim, and Damian my youngest. Then there's Barbara Commissioner Gordons daughter, and our newest member of our family Duke."

"I'm the only blood child." Damian points out.

"Let's hope debauchery isn't hereditary."

Jason bursts out laughing at that. "I like her already."

"Really? Cause I had to hold your hand like a toddler during the ceremony to keep you from throwing a tantrum like a toddler." Dick points out.

"Can you blame me Dickie. She's your age. If anyone should be having a hissy fit it's you. Well you and maybe Babs."

"But we're not. So can't you be mature about this."

"I think Todd's lack of manners have become more acceptable considering what she said. Now it stands out less. Congrats Todd, you're now the family's second biggest embarrassment." Damian rolled his eyes.

"Haha" You laughed sarcastically. "What are you stray cats fighting over anyway that has you so rowdy? Someone throw out a can on anchovies?"

"No we're just excited to have a new Mom." Dick smiled at you.

"Oh looks like my new Father-in-law is calling me over for some business talk. I'll be back, Wifey. You just stay here and mingle." Your husband walks away and you turn back to the Brucie bunch.

"I know you guys probably don't like me or find it weird that I'm so close to your guys ages. Do me a favor and just put up with me for say five to ten years." They looked at you confused so you elaborate. "Brucie and I signed a prenup that if I asked for a divorce I'd get nothing. But give it a few years and he'll find a new fling. They'll get caught and he'll ask for a divorce to save his image. Don't worry I'll only ask for at most a million. Standard sum for a celebrity of his caliber."

Damian glares at you. "You skank."

"I'm being realistic. As a woman in high society you get to be a man's pretty young thing till you're 40. By then you've either started your own multi-million dollar business or you're the divorced crone who can't do any better. Most relationships of this caliber are shams held together by pool boys and secretaries. Or the few lucky ones that got married for love instead of PR."

"Bruce isn't like that." Tim defends.

"Oh please. I've seen him go to a date with a woman and leave with two completely different women than the woman he arrived with." You rolled your eyes

"Maybe when he was younger, but he's changed." Duke stood up to confront you.

"It's nothing personal kids, it's just business. I don't care if that's how he chooses to live his life. I won't be around much to see it anyway, I'm going to be rather busy." You shrugged, seemingly above it all.

"Busy with what?" Cass glared.

"Trading stocks and such, preparing for the inevitable divorce. Maybe I'll go sponsor some artists or a theatre production if I'm bored. I don't know, but what I can tell you is that it's coming." You turn around to walk away and see Brucie already flirting with another woman. "And from the looks of it, it's coming sooner than we could've ever guessed." You smirked, feeling vindicated. The rest of them looked on in horror.

After the reception you two left on a rather uneventful honeymoon. The private villa was garish and gaudy. It felt like a petty excuse to flaunt his wealth especially because you two spent the entire trip sleeping in different rooms. And on top of all that half way through he up and left you with his black card and flew back to the mansion to deal with an "emergency". Your best guess was a whiny sugar baby was getting pissy.

At the end of the trip you flew back and had to catch an uber home. None of them even came to pick you up from the airport. Though with how they reacted to your statements at the reception could you really blame them?

Regardless you practically snuck into the mansion with the help of Alfred who showed you to a small guest room on the first floor. It had a single queen sized bed without even a comforter, just a white duvet, and on either side of the bed were nightstands.

"Thank you Alfred." You nodded to.

"You're welcome." He bows. "If there's anything else you need please feel free to inform me immediately."

"Brucie left this with me in his vacation home, can you give this back to him and tell him I said thank you for the take out?" You handed over the black card.

"Take out?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah. And for letting me use the Wayneflix account while I was there. If I may make a slight suggestion, give your regency era shows more attention. Thank you Alfred. I'll go unpack now."

"I've already taken the liberty of unpacking your clothes into the wardrobe and dresser." He revealed.

"You didn't need to do that."

"I know you requested that I not but I felt I'd rather have your room ready for you than for you to stress when you arrived." He bowed.

"That's very sweet but I have a very particular system. My outfits all fit together in a specific way." You start to rearrange your clothes in the way you see fit.

"Might I learn how you like them so I can properly sort them next time?"

"No, it's okay. I can do my own laundry." You offered.

"Have you ever done your own laundry?" He raised an eyebrow accusingly.

"Well... no." You confessed. "But you already have like 14 other people's laundry to do. I don't want to be a bother. Besides I don't want you to waste a few weeks when it won't matter in a few years."

"So Master Damian has told me you've said. Nevertheless I'm willing to learn to do this if you are willing to learn how to do your own cooking and laundry."

"Why are you helping me?"

"I've met many people whom Master Wayne has brought into his life. You are the first who's actually wanted to fend for yourself. If you are running a long con into Master Wayne's pocket it's either the smartest or the dumbest plan I've ever seen concocted. Besides, many of the Wayne's don't currently reside here full time. Master Dick lives with his wife missus Koriand'r. Master Jason lives in a renovated greenhouse studio apartment. Miss Barbara and Miss Cassandra live as roommates. And Master Wayne lives in either his WayneTech or home Office. I have more than enough time to learn."

You genuinely smiled for the first time since you heard about the engagement. The two of you spent the rest of the day organizing clothes and making cookies.

"-And that is the difference between Light Academia and Pastel Academia.”

He looked stunned. "How do you keep all this straight?"

"It's just something I got into because I wanted to disassociate from my hopeless reality. I figured fake it till you make it right? Someday I could have a different, more quiet life. And finding subtle nuances between aesthetics is honestly fun. Like a game of spot the difference."

“Oh my! Look at the time! It’s already 4 o’clock!” Alfred looks stunned at the time.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spend four hours talking about this.”

"It's quite alright Missus Wayne."

"I'll go bring these to Brucie. Might as well let him know that he's not getting any inheritance from a tragic accident that happened to me."

"Master Wayne cares for you. I hope you know that. It may not be in the most... romantic measure... but I swear that he was not lying on your wedding day when he said he'd remain faithful to you." Alfred tried to reassure.

"If you say so Alfred." You gave him a small smile.

Alfred looked at her sadly as she walked away. He wished there was more he could do to help you fit in around the manor. Someone as grounded as you would be a good addition in Brice's life, he just knew it!

Later in the Batcave, Alfred confronted Bruce

"Master Wayne I have an idea on how to keep your new wife busy."

"Why should I care about what's she's doing with her life? I have more important things to do than to worry about than some nepo-baby throwing a tantrum.

"Why should you care? How about the fact that you have never had a serious relationship and making this work is crucial for your public image? How about the fact that she has given up her entire life to cater towards your brash decision after one petty comment Mr. West made about your love life?" Alfred started listing off reasons; becoming more irate as he did. "How about the fact that if she's not kept busy during the day she'll eventually stumble upon the entrance of the Batcave?"

That peaked Bruce's interest. "I'm listening." He swivels around in his chair.

"Offer her a job as the family's social media manager." Alfred proposed.

"What? Why?" Bruce looked at him, skeptically.

"She's very knowledgeable about different aesthetics and trend. She could make this family look..." He tried to find a nice word to describe them.

"Normal?" Bruce interrupts with an almost bored look on his face.

"I was going to say civil but that works too." Alfred shrugged as Bruce groaned. "Don't take it the wrong way Master Wayne. I love this Family with all my heart but you cannot deny that they can be a bit rowdy at times."

"A bit is an understatement. It would look good for your PR... fine. Go ask her... but If it is not up to Wayne Enterprise standards you're firing her for me!"

So that's what you've been doing for the past few months.

"Jason, I'm telling you, motorcycles are out! Most girls aren't going for the bad boy vibe anymore! They're into Timothée Chalamet!" You argued over the phone with Jason, Bruce's most rebellious child, even more so than the 12 year old pain in the ass! "Fine, we'll talk later. I have an unexpected visitor anyway." You looked behind you as Bruce entered.

Bruce made a habit of being loud around the house for her. You knew he was being exceptionally weird but you didn't exactly know why. You didn't really care all that much either.

He came up behind you and started to massage your shoulders. "Jason giving you trouble again."

"...yeah." You said shrinking into yourself. The one thing you hadn't quite gotten used to was Bruce's attempts to flirt with you. You knew that he wanted to keep public image favorable, but it didn't make sense why he flirted with you behind closed doors.

He leaned down and started kissing your exposed shoulders in your off the shoulder sweater dress. You wriggled out and away from him in discomfort and he looked at you puzzled. "What's wrong?"

"I don't like you touching me." You confessed. "I don't- ...I don't see us that way... I'm sorry."

He sat on the edge of your desk. "You have nothing to apologize for. I'm the one who should apologize. It's just that... we haven't done anything yet and-"

"And what? You think I'm a slut that's just going to put out for you?" You interrupted.

"No! I just meant that you were probably wanting me to... be more romantic... I thought you'd want me to instigate something..." He stood there, not knowing what to do.

"Well you thought wrong." You left your office angrily. You stomped out of there and went to the library. You looked over all the books they had. Classics like the Iliad and Crime and Punishment to so many romance novels. But one book in particular caught your interest. The History of Taxes.

"Who wants to read about taxes?" You cringed. The book looked relatively untouched. 'Typical,' you thought. 'Rich people can't even be bothered to try and read the books they have in their house.' She went to pull it out and found the bookshelf moving.

On the other side was the answer to one of the greatest mysteries she's had since she came to Gotham, "Who is Batman and Co?"

There it was! The Batcave and All it's glory...

Oh... the bags under his eye of sleepless nights, the flirty persona, the stomping around trying to make his presence known to you.

"Bruce Wayne is Batman..." No sooner had you said those words did you feel a sharp pain in the back of your head and the world fade into darkness...

[flemingology]

morning bliss ─ leah williamson x reader

in which: it's leah's birthday and you surprise her, in a slightly different way

warnings: smut (18+), oral (r giving), fingering (r giving), dirty talk

wc: 2.1K

a/n: based on this request. struggled to get this one over the line and not really pleased with how it turned out but hope you enjoy!

March 29th. Leah's 27th birthday. You'd mapped out this day ages ago, meticulously arranging and fitting every surprise you had for her in the plan of action for the day – making sure Leah got to soak up all the birthday love. It didn't come often that you could properly celebrate her birthday. A schedule as busy as hers wasn't very forgiving, the calendar hung on the wall in your home office always littered with Leah's appointments throughout the week. It went much further than just training sessions and games. It was media, events, shoots, and so on. To have a day off on her birthday was a wonder, and you wanted to make use of it.

The breeze of an early spring morning is what caused you to wake up today. The rising sun cast a golden glow upon your shared room, giving off some of its warmth in the process. You heard a deep exhale coming from the sleeping figure of your blonde lover, limbs entangled with yours and her back pulled flush against your chest. She was still fast asleep, remnants of a late night at the training centre because she was pulled into a few unexpected meetings.

You carded a hand through her blonde locks, pressing a soft kiss against the back of her head which caused her to stir against you, but she didn't wake up. You let your hands roam over her side, reveling in the feeling of her sculptured abdomen tensing up when your fingers roamed across them. Your fingertips ran lower down her body, brushing up and down her legs which caused goosebumps to form on her bare skin.

Spurred on by the way her warm skin felt against your fingertips, you pulled Leah's hair to the side and started pressing a couple soft, tender kisses against the nape of her neck. You could feel how tense the muscles were there, making a mental note to offer her a massage later in the day. You knew she put heaps of pressure on herself every day, not only to perform but also to be the best version of herself. You retreated your hand from her legs and pulled it back up to her upper body, sneaking it under her shirt and softly teasing one of her nipples, that hardened at the touch. A soft gasp escaped Leah's lips, her body nearing on the brink of waking up but not quite there yet.

You pulled her impossibly closer, licking a stripe from the juncture between her neck and collarbone right up to her ear, nipping on her earlobe before you pulled away. Right on cue, you heard a soft groan coming from your girlfriend who was still tightly tucked against your chest. "Good morning, baby," she groggily said. "Good morning it is," you quipped back before lowering your head. "Let me show you how much better I can make it," you whispered in Leah's ear before you carefully flipped the two of you over, not wanting to startle her too much seen as she had just woken up. She sat up against the pillows, making herself comfortable while you trailed kisses down her body.

You played with the hem of her shirt and silently asked for permission to take it off, Leah nodding and giving you a lopsided grin. You could still see the tiredness on her face but it was fading quickly, excited about what was coming her way. You immediately latched your mouth onto one of Leah's nipples and rubbed the other between your thumb and index finger, not teasing and torturing her like you normally would. It was her special day today, so you figured you should go easy on her and just give her what you knew she wanted.

Leah's hands quickly nestled themselves into your hair, tugging harshly whenever a particularly good swirl of your tongue around her nipples made a spark of arousal go down between her legs. Before long you detached your mouth from her breasts and lowered yourself, littering her stomach with kisses and leaving a mark every now and then – sucking and biting on the skin before soothing the sting with a languid lick of your tongue.

"Fuck, baby. This is surely one way to wake me," you grinned against her skin and looked up at her through your eyelashes. "Figured you'd enjoy it. Lay back and relax, Le. Today's about you," you told her before going back to the task at hand, now finally having reached the waistband of her shorts. You looked up at her in silent question and before you could even register a response, she was already lifting her hips from the bed allowing you to slip off the last two pieces of clothing that were putting a border between your bodies.

"You undress too, please," you took a look at yourself to realize you were still fully clothed, quickly getting rid of her your sleep shirt and sweatpants, leaving you in just your underwear as you turned your attention back onto your girlfriend, who was eagerly waiting to be touched. You lowered your head down between her legs which she instinctively spread, the action causing you to smile but you decided not to tease her about it.

You wet your lips and dove straight in, licking a long, slow stripe from Leah's entrance up until her sensitive bundle of nerves sitting exposed at the top, begging for attention. Your action earned you a deep groan from Leah, whose hands fisted your hair. "You taste incredible, baby," you mumbled against her. The vibrations of your voice against her core sent jolts of pleasure through her body, throwing her head back and biting her lip to conceal a near-pornographic moan.

"Eyes on me, Le. And I want to hear you, please," you said before continuing your ministrations, focusing on making her feel as good as you possibly could. You hooked your arms under her thighs and pulled her closer to you, positioning her legs over your shoulders. You took her clit in your mouth and started expertly sucking and flicking your tongue across it, while bringing your other hand up and teasing her sopping entrance with a finger. "God, you're soaked. All for me, hmm?", you teased her. She quipped back with a grunt, while rolling her hips into your hand trying to create more friction than what you were giving her.

"I need you inside me, please," Leah whimpered, and you repositioned yourself so that you could comfortably work your arm between her legs. You gathered some arousal from her entrance and spread it through her folds, making a wet mess from her core. Not wanting her to get overly sensitive from the wetness, you trailed your fingers back down and carefully started pushing one inside of her entrance.

"Oh shit," Leah cursed as her back arched off the bed. If any tiredness was still lingering, you were certain that it'd be gone now. You felt how tight her tunnel closed around your fingers and stilled them to let her adjust, not wanting to cause her any pain. Soon enough Leah began to move her hips, looking for more friction so you filled her to the hilt, knuckles brushing against her folds. You slowly pulled out, before pushing a second finger inside of her entrance.

A particularly loud moan escaping your girlfriend's lips filled you with lust, starting to slam your fingers in and out of her. You could feel the bed move beneath you with every thrust, tightening the grip you had on one of her thighs so her body didn't move away from you at the sheer force of your thrusts.

"Oh," Leah started but got interrupted by one of her own moans. "Oh God, that's good. Fuck. You fuck me so good," her words spurred you on as you tried a third finger, feeling how her walls stretched to accommodate to another finger. "Fuck, you're so wet for me, Le. You're sucking my fingers in, it's so hot."

You got lost in a trance as you watched Leah's core suck in your fingers every time you pulled them back, walls clenching around your digits to keep hold of them. You were still pistoning your fingers in and out of Leah's core as you felt her hand tap the top of your head, immediately slowing your thrusts. You looked up at her with a concern-filled gaze, immediately relaxing when you saw a satisfied, worn out look on her face. "I want you up here with me when I cum, please."

A loving smile spread across your lips upon hearing those words, basking in the softness of the moment. "Anything for you", you quipped back before moving back up her body, making sure your fingers stayed inside of her to not rid her of any pleasure. Admittedly it wasn't the most comfortable, but you angled your body around Leah's to be as close as possible to her, but not to rest any weight on her. You held yourself up on your arm as you pressed a tender kiss against her neck while you started thrusting your fingers again in a steady pace.

One of Leah's hands tangled itself in your hair again, while the other wrapped around the back of your neck keeping you close to her. Profanities fell from her lips as you could feel – by the way she was tightening around your fingers – she was growing closer to her peak. Albeit her moans growing louder, you could feel that she needed something more to finish her off, to tip her over the edge. You leaned your head down and nipped on her earlobe before you whispered. "You feel so good around my fingers, Le. I love the feeling of being inside of you," you heard how her breath hitched before she let out another high-pitched moan.

"You wanna cum for me, baby? Wanna cum around my fingers? You look so beautiful like this, all spread out for me," you whispered further before licking a stripe up from the base of Leah's neck back up to her ear. Right on cue you could feel how her core gripped your fingers tight, muscles spasming around your fingers. Her face was overcome with pure bliss, throwing her head back into the pillows and letting out a few near pornographic moans that would surely let the neighbors know about your activities this morning.

You started to slow down your thrusts, not wanting to overstimulate your girlfriend but also wanting to draw out her pleasure as long as possible. A tired, satisfied smile overcame her face when her muscles finally relaxed, sinking deeper into the mattress and against the pillows. You waited until she opened her eyes and looked at you to pull your fingers out of her still dripping wet core, before you brought your fingers up to your mouth. You teasingly bobbed your head up and down while sucking Leah's juices off your fingers, to which she groaned and bit her lip. You leaned forward and bit her bottom lip. "Happy birthday, my love."

"Fuck, you're so hot. And you make me feel so good. Thank you," you pushed a strand of hair out of her face and pressed a tender kiss against her lips, enjoying the sweet moment between the two of you before you inevitably had to get up and get started with your day. "If anyone is hot here, it's you. Honestly you should feel how wet I am right now, just from hearing you and from making you feel good," Leah chuckled at this and you could see a glint of mischief in her eyes. You could feel a hand that was starting to wander from your back towards your front and heading to the waistband of your underwear, but you stopped her ministrations before she could start anything.

"Nope," you started, popping the p. Leah retreated her hand with a pout. "Not right now. Today's about you, miss Williamson. To start you off I've made a reservation at that new brunch place a couple minutes from here," you said as a grateful smile spread across her face. You were not the one for big gestures, but you made her feel seen. She felt listened to.

"Well, I suppose we best get cleaned up," Leah started, a twinkle in her eye. "And we should save water, really," you cocked an eyebrow at her in fake confusion. She sighed and rolled herself out of bed, holding her arm out for you to get up too. "You, me, shower. Right now."

Safe to say you didn't make it to brunch in time.

[giuseppe-yuki]

gladiator

gladiator!ollie bearman x goddess of victory!reader

w.c.: 1.7k

warnings: slightly graphic descriptions of gore, angst

summary: yet another young gladiator prays to you in your temple

a/n: very unedited + there might be glaring historical inaccuracies :(

picture credits from pinterest :)

he’s young, not unlike all the ones before him. with tousled brown locks that ruffle as he darts along the marble floor, eyes that glow the colour of syrupy ambrosia in the dim flickering of the torches, and perfect muscled body, he reminds you of venus’ adonis in a way. your gleaming statue, wings outstretched, robes flowing, and holding your iconic laurel wreath, gazes upon him knowingly as he hesitantantly approaches your altar at the base of sculpture. your priests barely spare him a glance- they are too busy preparing a new sacrifice that lays neatly on your stone altar- a once-magnificent bull. its mouth is open in a silent scream and its eyes are glossy as the priests collect its crimson blood in a decorated jar and shave off selective portions of its raw flesh to burn as offerings. he watches as the head priest raises his glistening knife, sticky with blood, and brings it down into the bull’s rough hide with a rough thwack, and he thinks he is going to be sick.

still, he falls into a kneel in front of your statue, like a lowly subject in front of an emperor, and like the ones before him, prays for victory.

you sit near the emperor’s viewing box, in a seat only the highest generals could afford. your appearance flickers to those around you- sometimes appearing as a beautiful maiden or a wizened old man. the crowds don’t notice your wavering form, instead focusing all their attention to the sandy center of the amphitheater, where the boy cowers with a silver sword and flat-planed shield, awaiting his opponent. above you, the emperor lounges lazily on a plush couch and inhales grapes from the vine. when he gives a signal- a mere flick of his hand- the gates of the amphitheater rumble open to reveal a snorting bear, prompting the audience to roar in approval. it was obvious- they were here to see blood, and that was what the emperor would give them. 

within the first minutes, the beast had already batted away the boy’s flimsy shield and raked his sharp claws against the length of the boy’s leg. rivulets of red, like rubies against his pale skin, flow down from the wound, satiating a fraction of the crowd’s hunger. you can see how he grips his sword tight enough that his knuckles turn white and the fear in his eyes as he tries to limp away from the bear. you can also see the hesitance in his swings that open up deep cuts that flow vermillion along the animal’s hide like the wound on his leg. you help the best that you can. a miscalculated stumble of the bear, a slight push away from the path of the beast’s paw, a guide of the sword towards a critical artery. but, when he finally plunges his bloodied sword into the throat of the exhausted animal, like a knife through butter, it is all his doing. it reminds you of the first fight of another young champion of the past, sebastian, and the roar of the lion that he had fought with a spear. when the animal lies, dying, in its own pool of blood, does the boy finally collapse onto the sandy ground, exhausted in his own sense. before he passes out from blood loss, he raises his head, and it’s like he looks directly at you. 

you come to him in the form of a young medici, a bag of bandages, ointments, and herbs in one hand. ollie, is what he says his name is, and he gives you a small smile even as he lay pale and bleeding on the rough cot in the newly assigned private sleeping quarters for victors. he’s prettier up close, even when his brown eyes blink at you hazily and his cheeks are colorless from the lack of blood. 

he first opens his mouth to break the silence when you are spreading your magical nector salve on his wounds.

“i’m glad they sent someone as beautiful as you to come patch me up,” he says in a lilting tone, eyes trained on your profile.

you can easily strike him down like you always do with unwanted advances from mortals, but instead, you laugh, a twinkling sound that ollie swears is the prettiest thing he’s ever heard. 

“you flatter me,” you reply, a rare smile gracing your face.

although you are not aesculapius, the god of medicine, your hands make quick work in firmly wrapping the soft bandage expertly around the openings on his leg. after all, it would be pretty pathetic if a champion with the blessing of the goddess of victory herself didn’t last a full day after his win.

when you are done, you wave your hand subtly over the top of his wounds, willing the greater parts of his pain away. he visibly relaxes, like a weight had lifted from his shoulders. 

his eyes track you silently as you throw your materials back into your brown medici bag. it triggers the memory of a certain eerily quiet champion you had blessed before- kimi- whose bright blue eyes you can remember skittering across your figure when you had bandaged his wounds. 

when you are done packing up your bag, you tread lightly to the door. before you can pull it open, ollie calls out to you. 

“wait,” he says, voice pleading.

you hesitate, but turn back to him, your tunic swishing. 

ollie looks at you with wide eyes, as if he didn’t believe that he had spoken out loud. 

“can you- can you stay for a bit?” he asks apprehensively. 

there are a million things to tend to, like overseeing minor battles, ensuring triumph in campaigns, and granting the prayers of the mortals that knelt in your temples, but you can’t help but concede to his request. 

you neglect your duties for far too long in the damp room with ollie. it was laughable in a way, to see the great goddess of victory pliant under the wiles of a young mortal.

he talks about his parents, about his younger brother, and his little sister, and about how he dragged away one fateful evening from his family to become a gladiator, unlike the multitude of other bloodthirsty gladiators from rich families that wanted fame and fortune. but, when he comes to the topic of his actions in the arena, he suddenly goes still. 

“i didn’t want to kill it, you know,” he whispers quietly, as if he didn’t want to admit it. 

his bottom lip quivers, and it is now that you are reminded how young he really is. it is a reminder of another victor that you had championed, charles, and his unwillingness to kill, even as a successful gladiator. like charles, big fat tears slip from the corners of his eyes when he thinks back to the poor creature, most likely chained and beaten, being made a spectacle, and dying by the hands of another for entertainment. however, you knew they always toughened up after awhile- they always did. so, you brush a comforting hand through his curls, kiss him gently on the forehead, and it’s only when he falls into a deep sleep do you finally leave the room.

you see him again several days later, this time in the great roman amphitheater again. again, he stands with his flat-planed shield and silver sword in the dusty middle of the arena. a look of fierce intensity flashes across his helmeted features, unlike the last time he was in this position, making him look significantly more willing to slay whatever beast steps in his path. 

however, when the emperor waves his hands, commanding the gates to rumble open, and the crowd thunders in excitement, what steps out is a familiar man with thick black hair that seems to sway perfectly in the breeze, a hint of stubble, and pouty pink lips that you knew all too well. carlos, you remember his name was.  you remember too, the way he had knelt down in your temple all those years before like ollie had. he had made an offering of three silver coins- all that money he had- and begged for you to protect him in the arena. true to your word, you gave him your divine protection until he became the emperor’s champion gladiator, personally favored by the elite and the crowd. 

carlos makes the first move, taking advantage of ollie’s barely healed leg. his weapon of choice, an engraved dagger, hacks a deep line of red as it carves from the tip of ollie’s right shoulder to his hip. at the sight of the excess bright liquid cascading down the younger boy’s body, the crowd erupts in a frenzy. when ollie collapses, unmoving, on the ground, they seem to chant carlos’ name- our champion, our champion, they scream. it seems like ollie is just another easy opponent, another nobody that would ultimately make their way onto the carlos’ lengthy list of the vanquished. carlos turns away from ollie to face the crowd, a smile on his lips and arms open, embracing the crowd. he has not lost once for a year, so what makes it seem like he would lose now?

that’s what makes it all-too-surprising when ollie pushes himself up with god-given strength and hacks down on carlos’ neck as hard as he can, with his sword. it lands with a wet thwack the way the priest’s knife did in the bull back in your temple before.

when ollie is paraded through the town, a victor’s laurel wreath atop his pretty head, the crowds that once shouted carlos’ name now screams ollie’s, crowning him as victor. neverending bottles of wine, cornucopias overfilling with food, and precious jewelery are thrust into his arms from every direction. you know it feels good to be loved by the people. it’s a pity, because you know ultimately, your divine interventions would draw the attention of the three parcae who controlled peoples’ fate. the fate of a gladiator was to die; they always did. it was proven with all the past gladiators you championed-  the brave sebastian, quiet kimi, kind-hearted charles, and now, the resilient carlos. it was all a matter of time before they would take ollie. even worse, the crowd would probably move on just as quickly like they did with carlos. so, for now, you watch as he smiles his dimpled smile and let him bask in the glory of being victorious. 

[7s3ven]

TF 141 + THEIR FAV CHRISTMAS ACTIVITY W/ YOU.

( master list )

John Price - gift wrapping

Price has perfected the art of wrapping Christmas presents and although he loves you with all his heart… he can’t say the same about you. It’s easy to tell who wrapped whose gift based on whether the paper is neat or scrunched up.

You’ve never had the talent for gift wrapping, choosing to fold the paper in random directions instead. As long as it covers the gift itself, it’s good enough.

You know Price hates your wrapping technique so it’s no surprise that you find him downstairs on Christmas Eve, frantically rewrapping your gifts.

“John, honey, couldn’t this wait until tomorrow?” You rub your eyes as you stop at the top of the stairs. You see Price freeze before he slowly turns his head to face you.

“John? Never heard of him. I’m… Santa Claus?”

You send him a deadpan look. “John, get your ass back in bed now. I need something to hug.” You retreat back to your shared bed, waiting for your husband.

It takes him two minutes to rush back into the room, peel off his shirt, and climb back under the covers.

Peaceful silence engulfs the room until Price parts his lips. “Are you sure you don’t want to take that gift wrapping class?” He utters. You lightly slap his shoulder in response.

Simon Riley - decorating the tree and car

Simon has always preferred a more quiet atmosphere where he can tend to his thoughts. He knows how much you adore Christmas so he tries his best to enjoy the holiday without feeling overwhelmed. You quickly realized that Simon hated stepping out of his comfort zone, hence why you suggested Christmas activities that catered towards his silent personality.

This included decorating the tree. Simon was at peace for once as the fire crackled in the background while he effortlessly lifted you up, allowing you to place a few ornaments at the top of the tree.

He liked minimalistic designs, not a huge fan of chaos like Jonny was. That’s why your tree only had ornaments that represented a particular moment. There was a red jewelled sphere that Simon had bought for you two years ago and a small framed picture of the two of you cuddled up on a couch (taken by Kyle).

Strangely enough, Simon yearned to decorate something else after the tree was complete. Thus, he moved onto the car.

John (Johnny) Mctavish - building an army of snow men

Between decorating every surface of your shared house and having an endless supply of nutmeg, Johnny’s favourite activity is building snowmen. Or rather, snow creatures. He is the epitome of ‘do you wanna build a snowman?’. In fact, you’re sure he’s blasted that song enough during a cold winter day that it’ll be on his Spotify wrapped.

Sometimes Johnny creates cute snow sculptures, like the adorable bear you were sitting beside that almost felt like a pet. Other times, he’s building questionable ones. You watch as Johnny wraps a scarf around his newly made (and rather lopsided) snowman.

“Johnny, love, what is that?” You call out as you absentmindedly pick up a handful of snow.

Johnny grins as he sticks a carrot in the middle of its face, proudly showing you his newest snowman. “It looks like Simon, don’t you think?”

If you squint enough and tilt your head at a specific angle, the snowman doesn’t look as goofy. “Sure, whatever floats your boat.” You offer Johnny a reassuring smile to hide the fact that the snowman does not resemble Simon Riley in any way.

Kyle Garrick - baking

One thing Kyle loves more than eating your Christmas cookies is helping you make them. He has a soft spot for seeing you in an apron and focused on mixing the dough.

“Kyle, can you find the cookie cutters for me?” You ask, blinking up at him innocently. He sends you a charming grin, immediately opening every drawer he can get his hands on.

It takes him half an hour to actually find the cookie cutters and by then, you’re done with the dough.

“Took you long enough.” You laugh at him, pinching his muscled bicep. Kyle finds joy in using the cookie cutters to create different shapes; trees, snowflakes, reindeer. But his absolute favourite part is decorating.

He has a knack for adding too many sprinkles, leaving little to no cookie left. Nevertheless, when you plate the treats, you make sure to put his creations in the middle.

“They look cute, love.” You say as you softly kiss his nose. He knows you’re lying but he doesn’t really care, not when your hands are running through his hair and you’re peppering his face with smooches.

[glittervame]

Your mine

Based off of this fanfic Billy <3

The warmth of the summer had finally given way to the briskness of early autumn as Y/n stepped off the Hogwarts Express, her eyes scanning the platform for her friends. She had returned to the castle, feeling a peculiar blend of excitement and nervousness for her sixth year. It wasn't just the thrill of new classes or the anticipation of the latest Quidditch tournaments that filled her; it was the secret she had been carrying with her all summer long. Her body was a canvas, adorned with fresh ink, each tattoo telling a story of her life or memories with her friends.

Her hair had grown out over the months, cascading in gentle waves down her back, and her skin glowed with a subtle tan from countless hours spent outdoors.

As she made her way through the throngs of students, her heart skipped a beat when she spotted Mattheo. His eyes lit up with recognition and he broke into a wide smile, rushing over to envelop her in a tight embrace. He had grown a bit taller over the summer, his frame more muscular and his features more defined, but it was his kind eyes that held her attention as they searched hers.

"You're back!" he exclaimed, his voice a familiar comfort. "I've missed you so much!"

Y/n blushed, returning his smile. "Missed you too," she murmured, feeling the warmth of his body pressed against hers. They had been together for three years now, and every moment apart felt like an eternity.

Mattheo's eyes began to rove over her, taking in her new look. He noticed the way her robes hung differently, the hint of new ink peeking out from her collar and wrists.

The tattoos have been a part of her body since she was allowed to enter a tattoo shop with a parent's signature. New ones would pop up during their holiday breaks and they quickly became a defining feature alongside her beauty.

Mattheo's dorm room is a cozy and slightly messy haven filled with the scent of old books, faint notes of incense, and the occasional waft of takeout. The walls are adorned with posters of his favorite bands and artists, while the floor is scattered with clothes, empty soda cans, and textbooks fighting for space. The bed, a lofted wonder, hovers over a desk that is cluttered with wires, a laptop, and a half-finished sculpture. The room is dimly lit, with only a desk lamp and the glow of a lava lamp providing the ambiance.

Mattheo and Y/n are in the middle of a make-out session playing catch up because they haven't see each other all summer break due to her spending it in France with her grandmother. His arms are wrapped tightly around her waist, pulling her closer as their kisses deepen. Y/n's hands trace the contours of his face, her thumbs brushing over the stubble that has formed since his last shave. His hands wander, too, slipping under her shirt to feel the warmth of her skin. They're both lost in the moment, the world outside their little bubble fading into oblivion.

The sound of their laughter pierces the silence as they break apart, both slightly out of breath. "God, I've missed you," Mattheo whispers, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Y/n smiles, her cheeks flushed. "Me too," she says, before leaning in to kiss him again.

Mattheo playfully nudges her, pushing her backward onto the bed. They giggle as they collapse onto the mattress, which protests with a series of squeaks. He straddles her, his hands interlocking with hers, and raises their arms above her head. "Gotcha!" he declares, grinning.

Y/n tries to wriggle free, but his grip is firm. "No, no, you don't!" she squeals, her laughter bubbling up as she kicks her legs.

Mattheo leans down, his smile turning into a playful scowl. "You're not going anywhere," he says, before letting her go.

Y/n takes the opportunity to flip him over, now on top of him. "Now who's got who?" she asks, her eyes gleaming.

He chuckles, wrapping his arms around her to keep her close. "Alright, alright," he surrenders. "But only because I like this view better."

They lay there, tangled in each other's embrace, sharing whispers and secrets from their summer apart. Y/n tells him about her adventures in Paris, the art she saw, and the food she ate. Mattheo tells her about his internship at the local music magazine, the bands he discovered, and the concerts he went to.

The conversation eventually shifts to more intimate topics, their whispers becoming softer, their touches more tender. They explore each other's bodies, reacquainting themselves with the familiar contours and curves. It's a dance they know well, yet it feels new and exciting with every encounter.

Their kisses grow urgent, their breathing heavy as they let their desires guide them. Clothes are peeled away, revealing skin that's warm and eager for contact. Their hands roam, caressing, teasing, setting each other on fire.

Y/n's heart raced as she straddled Mattheo, feeling his strong thighs tense beneath her. The dim light from the bedside lamp cast a warm glow across his sculpted abs, making his skin seem almost golden. His eyes, dark with desire, searched hers, seeking confirmation. She nodded, her cheeks flushing, and he took that as his cue to lean in, capturing her mouth in a passionate kiss that sent waves of heat coursing through her body.

Their tongues danced together, a delicate tango filled with the sweet promise of what was to come. His hands roamed up her back, pulling her closer as he deepened the kiss. She could feel his arousal pressing against her, and it only served to make her more eager. Gently, she began to grind her hips against him, feeling his grip tighten as he moaned into her mouth.

Breaking the kiss, she whispered his name, her breath hot against his neck. He responded by nibbling her earlobe, sending a shiver down her spine. She leaned back, giving him access to her neck, which he kissed tenderly, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. His hands found their way to the hem of her shirt, and he began to lift it up, revealing her naked torso.

The coolness of the room contrasted with the warmth of his touch as he cupped her breasts, his thumbs flicking over her sensitive nipples. A soft gasp escaped her lips, and she arched her back, encouraging him. He took the hint, his mouth following the path his hands had made, kissing and suckling each peak until she was squirming with pleasure.

Mattheo sat up, his own shirt joining hers on the floor. He wrapped his arms around her, his bare chest pressing against her as he kissed her again. Their bodies were now one, skin to skin, and the sensation was electrifying. Y/n's hands found the buckle of his belt, and with trembling fingers, she undid it, the sound echoing in the quiet room.

Mattheo stood up, gently lifting her with him. He laid her down on the bed, his eyes never leaving hers as he removed the rest of their clothing. The sight of him, standing over her, completely naked, was almost too much to handle. She reached up, her hand tracing the line of his chest, down to his waist, and back up again. He took her hand and placed it over his heart, feeling it thump wildly against her palm.

He climbed onto the bed, his body aligning with hers, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He took a moment to appreciate her beauty, her eyes wide with anticipation, her skin flushed with desire. He positioned himself at her entrance, and with a deep, shaky breath, he pushed inside her.

The feeling was indescribable, a perfect blend of pain and pleasure that had her eyes rolling back in her head. He stilled when he found a tattoo of his name in swirling black ink on the inside of her thigh. It was a secret she had been keeping from him, a declaration of her love etched into her very skin.

"S-shit," His hips stutter at the sight, and his eyes meet hers, wide with shock and arousal. "You're so fucking perfect."

He began to move, a slow, steady rhythm that had her nails digging into his back. She matched his pace, arching her hips to meet each of his powerful thrusts. The friction between them grew, igniting a fire that threatened to consume them both.

Their moans filled the room, a symphony of need and want. He kissed her again, hard and possessive, as if he could brand her with his passion. She responded in kind, her tongue fighting his for dominance as their bodies moved together in a dance of pure lust.

The tension grew, coiling tighter with every stroke. Y/n could feel it building deep within her, an unstoppable force that threatened to shatter her into a million pieces. She clung to him, her breaths coming in ragged gasps, her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to hold on.

One of Mattheo's hands had found itself around her neck, "Mine," he growled, his teeth scraping along her jawline. "You're always going to be mine."

The possessiveness in his voice sent a shiver up her spine, and she couldn't help but moan in agreement. It was true; she belonged to him, heart and soul.

The climax hit her like a tidal wave, crashing over her with the force of a thousand suns. She cried out, her body shaking as wave after wave of pleasure rolled through her. Mattheo's own release followed, his body tensing as he spilled himself inside her.

He lays her on the bed and starts kissing up her thighs to the tattoo of his name, and she giggles. "Always," she whispers, her voice a little hoarse.