Oliver Aiku Fanart Novels & Stories

I can only sigh, and pull her into me with my free hand. “So… just putting this out there but we’re almost 11 and not even actually related to Hannah,” Oliver teases, as the pups in my arms smile at each other. Goddess help me.

Oliver tilted his head, “Wouldn’t that give us away? My father is still pursuing my mother and they haven’t married yet to have me.” Crystal shook her head, “Well, it won’t show who your parents are. Besides, aren’t there many dragons? Did you forget you and Kian came from the same race?” Oliver glanced at Kian who was also looking at him. He didn’t say anything and looked back on the wooden block in his hand. Crystal took hers and showed them how it’s done. “Mine shows ‘Crystal Summer, Flower Fairy, Outstanding’. Oh, it also glows pink. How cute~”

Oliver smiled. “Much better. So how old are you?” He asked as he began to pour wine into the wine glasses. The night was going to be more interesting than he ever imagined. Nevertheless, he had to be sure she wasn’t underage. “I’m a nineteen-year-old college student in my final year,” she said shyly, avoiding his gaze, though all she wanted to do was look at him all day. Oliver was very handsome, as he shared the same resemblance with his sister, Mercedes. Whereas working and being trained by Nathan caused him to adopt a lot of things which changed his personality to resemble that of the latter.

Sasha's eyes widened as she unwrapped the package to reveal a stunning painting of her. "Oh my God," Sasha breathed. There was a card attached. I watched as she read it. "What does it say?" Zella asked gently. "It's from Oliver." Sasha's voice was thick. "He says: 'Congratulations, Sasha. I'm so proud of you.” “Aww look at that, he remembered!” Zella gushed. Oliver had been in Paris for a while, and the distance had been good for him. He was an art collector and helped young artists get gigs. He had started therapy with a new doctor, and he was doing fine. I had weekly reports of him sent to me.

Oliver's stunts could make her brain system not work. "Don't make me wait long, baby. You know, I hate waiting the most!" Oliver said again, resting his head on Yoursa's shoulder, tilting his head slightly so he could inhale the strawberry scent on Yoursa's tired neck. "I love the scent of your body. It's very calming to my mind," Oliver continued, inhaling as much of the rose scent that lingered on Yoursa's neck. Meanwhile, Yoursa held back her arousal from getting out of control, resulting in a sighing sound coming from inside her mouth.

He asked in his high pitched voice. I buttoned up his jacket all the way to the top. "Do you want to see amazing art? Canvases that are bigger than you?" His eyes lit up. "It is where you go and paint?" I nodded, opening the door. "Yup. We are almost finishing our work, but there is still lots to do." As we went up the elevator, Oliver squeezed my hand tighter. I knew he was a shy kid, so meeting a bunch of new adults could be intimidating. As the elevator doors opened, Oliver got closer to me as I encouraged him to walk forward.

Oliver’s POV I liked Ava. She had always been my first and closest friend. I’m Oliver Ronald, an imperceptible nerd at school. I had no friends, and I preferred living alone, studying, and residing on campus without the company of others. Nobody wanted to be a nerd’s friend anyway. I wasn’t interested in being friends with anyone either.

Two more hours until he sees her, if she’s on time. His phone beeped, Oliver looked down to see a message from Raven. He opened it, Fuck… she sent him an almost nude, thin panties, her hands cover her nipples, and biting the bottom of her lip. Oliver felt himself hardened instantly, she even left a message. -Since I was a bad girl interrupting you-

I introduced myself politely, "Hello, sorry for intruding, I'm Olivia's friend, Dylan Ashton." Auntie Lou scoffed, "Oh please, we're just thrilled Olivia came here with someone and everyone knows who you are because of her." Inside was somehow small but cozy, it was filled with paints of bright colors for the kids in the orphanage, Olivia suddenly left to go and greet her friends there. Her auntie Lou started talking to me politely, "It's such a lively painting, right? Olivia painted it all by herself, she told me it should be as bright as the future of the kids here."

I don't think arrows twitch like that. That night, Oliver lay in his small, cramped apartment. The rent was overdue. The student loan emails were piling up. He needed an escape. He pulled out his phone and opened Tinder. He didn't use his real face, just a photo of his torso in a tight t-shirt. His profile name was simply "Oli." Swipe left. Swipe left. Swipe left. Then, he paused. A profile popped up. User: X. 28 years old. There was no face. Just a photo of a man's chest and abs, taken in a mirror. The body was incredible, broad shoulders, defined obliques, and veins running down muscular arms. He was wearing dark sunglasses in the second photo, sitting by a pool at night.