Mister Demi Fanart Novels & Stories

They also brighten up the hair and the lips and really compliment the rest of her face. By then she excitedly began to chatter exuberantly about her collection. "I got excited because the painting behind you was made by Death. A mysterious artist who paints crime arts. And that painting ..." Sumire pointed at the painting behind the young man. She was still sitting on his lap while her left hand was resting on the man's chest and her right hand was pointing at the painting. Mr. Aslanov was leaned against on the backrest of the swivel chair and he tightened his grip on the maiden's waist so that she may not fall over on the side when she recklessly moved on top of him. "... is called the "Vul

Then I turned towards the devil who was eyeing me, shamelessly. “Yes, Mister Remus James McQueen! Tell me what you want?!” I spit out with hatred and his lips stretched out in a devious smirk.

Just as he felt Mister transform, Justin latched down as hard as he could on his throat and tried his best to hold him down. Mister was straight infuriated by Justin's audacity at this point and he had been pushed way past his point of no return. He started to twist and wiggle and fight against Justin's grip, causing his teeth to go deeper into his skin. He was so mad that he was completely immune to the pain that he was feeling. Eventually he managed to free himself from Justin's grip and get away from him long enough to catch his breath. That's when Justin knew he was screwed. Mister lowered his ears and bared his teeth and he let out a long slow growl. Justin dropped his head and tail and

Tito Rommel muttered. “He’s Charles Flemish, 16 years old. He’s kind and nice, he enjoys playing basketball and football, he loves listening to music, he enjoys reading books... Mom, I am 100% sure about him, he loves me and I love him too, he said to me I am the girl he wants to marry when we grow up.” “Still, you are not yet 18! You still broke the rule, Sara!” I can feel the anger in Tito Rommel’s voice. I bit my lower lip while just looking at them.

"I've heard a lot about you." I turn to Demi. "You didn't," I say. "Oh, I very much did." She's grinning, leaning against the doorframe with her arms folded, looking extremely pleased with herself. And she's devastatingly gorgeous... Demi... dark skin and natural hair pinned up, wearing a red bum short she knows exactly what it does, and she looks between me and Soleil like she's watching something she's been planning for months unfold exactly on schedule. "He's a professional. He's clean. And before you say anything..." she holds up a finger, "I'll be right there the whole time."

she replied, happy to appreciate the artwork without participating. But Demitrio wasn't easily deterred. He guided Marissa to sit beside him, his hand resting on her shoulder. "Come on, you have to try it," he urged, a sparkle in his eye. "You'll look beautiful. Let's add a red-orange butterfly to your cheek." Marissa hesitated but eventually gave in, allowing herself to be swept up in the moment's whimsy. As the artist began to paint her face, Marissa couldn't help but smile, thankful for the unexpected joy Demitrio had brought into her day.

* Lawrence * The sun was high and merciless, but under the shaded lounge area of the beachfront Magnolia, life was good, too good, maybe. I leaned my back in the woven hammock chair, sunglasses slipping down the bridge of my nose, one arm lazily draped over the cold bottle of beer resting against my stomach. Waves crashed gently in the distance, mingling with the thud of bass from the Bluetooth speaker. My two best friends, Nico and Marcus, were lounging nearby, equally shirtless, equally sunkissed, and equally careless.

What’s with the Russo crap am I not a De Leone or is there some kind of special ceremony where I gain the title like back in the old days where people would fight to the death. "Hey Babyface please call me Demi, or Demitria, which is my name by the way. Miss Russo sounds so formal and makes me feel old and I'm not old. Do I look old to you" his eyes travel the short length of my body then back up to meet my eyes after taking a pit stop on my chest. ‘My eyes are up here asshole’ I think to myself when his eyes stay on my chest a little longer than necessary. "No. As you wish Miss Demi" I roll my eye at the miss part but I don't miss the way his eye scan my body again before we continue to wal

I swallow and force a smile. "I like it. It's beautiful." I replied and continued chewing on my food. Mr. Kim exhales in relief and relaxes his shoulders. "I'm glad you like it. Ryan told me to make everything pink, saying girls like pink the most. I was skeptical but it turns out he knows girls better than I do." "Of course, Dad!" Ryan chimes in. So he's the one responsible for making the room pink. I turn sharply to glare at him, forcing a smile through clenched teeth.

“The Saddler family's heiress is supposed to be engaged to Mr. Johansen. Why is she clinging to someone else?” The chatter didn’t last long. Timothy's authoritative voice soon silenced the crowd. “What’s wrong with my grandson holding his future wife?”