#proud of this thing. sketched (very) loosely over a screenshot but i think this is my first redraw with zero tracing. crazy.

[the-valiant-valkyrie]

imagine being a cog in the machine dude. could NOT be me.

[dracothedeatheatingcupcake-ao3]

Hi guys!! So, this is unrelated to any of my fics, just letting y’all know. 

However, I was contacted by another fic writer who asked if I take commissions, since they like my art. While yes, I have taken some commissions in the past, it has only ever been for my realistic art. I am not confident enough in my cartoon/anime style to charge money for it, especially since my time is kind of limited these days. 

However, I have been wanting to practice drawing different body positions, to get better at it. I also found a website that allows you to pose figures in whatever way you want, which is very helpful as a reference. Plus, when reading the fic (called Silver Lights to Make Things Right, by  AstraLowelle) the person asked me to draw from, I got a pretty clear idea in my head for what I wanted it to look like, if I did it. The idea was basically Mondo, Taka, and Celeste sitting on a bed, with Celeste hypnotizing Taka to help him sleep. 

(I will add a read more here, if anyone is interested in my opinions of this piece, or if you want to see the line-art and non-filtered version of the drawing)

Now, with this drawing, there are some problems I have with it. The background... oof, it was a challenge. I have a big problem with perspective and things like that, especially without references, so the bed was really hard, since I had no reference. I think Mondo’s leg is hanging off it improperly, but I drew the three before drawing the bed, so I had to live with it, ha. Also, there was supposed to be a night stand with a lamp on it behind them, but my brain imploded when I tried to draw it, so I left it out. 

As for the characters... I will say that I’m really happy with how Mondo turned out! I’ve never drawn muscles before, but they don’t look super bad, I hope. I like his face and the hair, though. For anyone who reads TPWP, this is Mondo’s hair whenever he and Taka are alone at night, FYI. Top part up in a ponytail, lower part loose and wavy/curly.

Now, as for Celeste and Taka... aha. I’m less happy with them, but I am okay enough with them. I’m honestly proud of Celeste’s hair, though, ‘cause those pigtails were brutal, oof. Taka and Celeste’s faces are a bit meh to me, though. I’ve always been bad with side profile, and Taka’s face just bugs me a bit. I tried to make it less square, since I keep doing that with his drawings even though he has a narrow face canonically, but I think I made it TOO narrow. -.- C’est la vie. If I keep drawing him, maybe one day I’ll get it right, lol. The hands are all bad, though, rip. I did my best with Celeste’s, since she is the focal point, ha. 

For the clothes, I figured that since the fic was about trying to get Taka to sleep, he prolly wouldn’t be in his uniform and would instead be in some sleep wear. I originally had him wear some shorts instead of sweat pants, but I changed it because a) I figured he’d rather not be dressed “improperly” in front of a girl and b) muscles are hard to draw :-( He’s also totally the type to wear socks to bed, the nerd that he is <3 For Mondo, I figured it would make sense for him to be wearing his usual clothes, just without his duster. And he IS wearing his usual loose black pants, I just had problems drawing the folds and gave up, oof. Also, I had Celeste wear her usual uniform, since in the fic it is said she’d just there to help, so I figured it made sense to have her dressed like normal. I had no idea how it would look from partially the side, partially behind, though, so I just made it mostly black and hoped for the best.

Overall, I’m pleased with how this turned out! There are the issues I mentioned, but overall, I think it looks nice, especially since this is only my 4th anime style drawing. I don’t know too much about this style, so I’m just playing by ear with this all. I have been drawing since I was 16, so about... uh... 7? years now, but like I’ve said, I mostly would do realistic art and things like that. I’ve seen tips and tricks for cartoon style artists over the years, though, so I’ve been trying my best to recall all that advice while drawing, to mixed results. The posing website is super helpful, though, my god. I would never have been able to do this without it. 

Anyway! Here is the line art and the drawing without the filters, for those curious: 

Also, here’s the original sketch, if anyone is curious about that: 

You can tell I changed the faces around a lot, Mondo’s especially, ha. 

I also posted this to Imgur, so if  AstraLowelle wants to use it in their fic, they may. :-) You can find the imgur link to all three here, and the direct link to the ‘official’ drawing here. The one with filters is more cleaned up than the one without, just letting y’all know, since I only noticed the small errors after adding the filters. 

Also, here’s the screenshot I took from the poser website that I referenced for the poses: 

I did my best, ha. 

[matildashoney]

Mirrors and Video Calls and the Lone Nude

MASTERLIST // MOODBOARD // TAG LIST // TAGS // PLAYLIST

TAG LIST: @ihearthemcallingforyou, @cock-a-doodely-doo

talk to me about it!

this chapter contains smut. it’s all smut.

Harry shifted uncomfortably beneath the comforter on his bed, his body settled in his girlfriend’s claimed side and his palms ghosting across his bare thighs as he stares at the few pictures on his phone that he has hidden in his messages – never saved for the sake of something or the other being leaked – from his lover. Amelie would be awake, that much he knew, her nightly routine beginning with dinner and ending with hours upon hours in the studio working on the exhibit that would be coming in the next two months. Harry always called her before he went to sleep, accustomed to the splattered paint on her forehead and the exhaustion in her eyes. Her creativity inspired him. All of her, at any given moment, was his muse.

Amelie was his muse in every sense of the word. Perhaps, that’s why Harry is sat against his headboard with his thumb brushing over his tip, his lips slightly parted and his chest beginning to pant under the thought of his hand being her more delicate one, the light touch that she always gave sending goosebumps across his skin. He can smell her around him, the vanilla and lavender, the perfume that she always wore on their dates, the scent that overwhelmed him when she was sweating and writhing beneath him. Harry can taste her on his tongue, the strawberry chapstick that she never leaves home without, the mint that never disappears, the aftertaste of her favourite tequila that makes her frisky.

And the photograph that was posted on Instagram earlier in the day surely wasn’t helping the situation.

Amelie texted Harry at a mischievous two in the morning – her time, of course – saying that there would be a photo on Instagram specifically for him that he wouldn’t want to miss. Harry would have seen it without the warning, but there was something in the tone of her text message – yes, he could tell the tone in her messages – that said that this picture was more than a drawing or photo that’s taken in passing.

Harry’s jaw immediately tensed at the photograph, his thumb seemingly not tapping the heart fast enough, his eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head at the thought of what his beautiful girlfriend could be wearing in the photograph beyond what was seen. His throat gulps with a supressed moan, the studio bustling with people working on the new album, and he is more than grateful that no one is paying attention to the way he is struggling to fight the stiffness jolting against his jeans.

Her photograph is more – or less – than anything he’s ever seen Amelie post publicly, usually opting for the headshots or simply her sketches or announcements of exhibits and murals and sales. Her photograph, this time, is of a mirror and high heels and her bare legs. Harry’s favourite feature. He wouldn’t hesitate to say so. Harry could barely make out who was taking the picture, only to see her younger sister’s comment that she in fact helped to take the photograph.

Harry couldn’t stop thinking about the photograph. Thinking about the way her skin glimmered under the sun. Thinking about the way her heels would dig deliciously into his thighs as he thrust into her. Thinking about the polaroids that he could take of her naked body, hidden beneath a sheet, the only thing on her besides the beading sweat being the strapped heels around her feet. Thinking about Amelie grinding on him, facing the mirror, watching as their bodies connect in the most intimate way. Harry couldn’t stop thinking.

Harry’s hand pumped his cock slowly, spit collecting on his palm and gliding across his shaft, his eyes squeezing shut to try and replicate the movements and motions that his girlfriend made when it was her hand wrapped around him. Her touch was unlike anything Harry has ever felt before – not simply saying so because they’re dating – and the idea of her was enough to make him hard. His lips parted with a whimper, a slight tug at his base reminding him of the way her cheeks would always pull in at the very best moment, always knowing. He slowly rocks his hips into his hand, his fingers gripping at his thigh as she always does, his chin dropping to his chest, trying to repeat how she makes him feel.

Amelie only left for California a week ago, and Harry was already dreaming of the way she touched him, kissed him, tasted him, felt on him.

His eyes snap open at the vibrations sounding against the bedside table, the name on his brain lighting up his screen. He coughs a whimper, trying to gain his composure as his hand slid across the glass, answering the phone call and waiting for her voice to echo through the speaker.

“’lo?” Harry coughs, his cock throbbing between his thighs, his jaw clenched as he fights the urge to continue pumping to the sound of her voice.

“Harry, did I wake you? ‘m sorry,” Amelie rushes, the clattering of paintbrushes and cans echoing around the studio in her apartment.

“Course you didn’t, mon ange.” His voice is slightly strained through the tightness of his jaw, his hand waiting at the base of his cock, ignoring the twitching and the light leak of arousal spilling from his tip. “You alright?”

“Wanted to call and tell you something. Can I FaceTime you? Only take a second and then I’ll let you get some rest. Know you had a big day at the studio.” Her excitement echoes through her tone, the words spilling from her lips exaggerated and drawn out in every syllable. Harry could tell that Amelie was proud of whatever she was about to share.

“’Course, doll. Gi’ me a second.” Harry wipes the sweat beading at his forehead, brushing his stray hairs away from his forehead and pressing to answer the call, a smile tugging at his lips as the screen brightens with her. Her lips were spread into the smile that he adores, the one that is the background on his phone much to her disapproval, the smile that makes his knees weak and his heart skip. “Don’t you look beautiful. Marigold is a beautiful colour on you. Think you should tattoo it.”

“Have a kink for that, do you? Getting tattoos?” Amelie teases, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively and standing on her feet, walking into her bedroom and pausing in front of her mattress, the fresh white duvet covering the patterned sheets Harry always teases her for. “Think you might just have a kink for me.”

“Think you might be right,” Harry smirks, wincing as his fingertips tug lightly to alleviate the pressure aching his balls and thighs. “Hold on a second.” Harry narrows his eyes, staring at the screen where a mirror is hanging neatly above the wall like Amelie had spoken about since she bought it when they were together. “Did you hang the mirror?”

“All by myself,” Amelie squeaks excitedly, posing playfully in front of the mirror, rolling her eyes as Harry begins to take screenshots of her as she does so. He always did that – take pictures of her when she wasn’t expecting it – and there was something about the way he wanted her that made her skin ignite and her nerves light on fire. “Phoebe helped me take the picture in front of it, though. Did you like it? Took it for you.”

“Doll,” Harry chuckles breathlessly, his hand slowly pumping at his length and thumbing over the arousal soaking his tip, desperately trying to have his orgasm stay at bay, “when I tell you I haven’t stopped thinking about it, I haven’t stopped thinking.”

“Have I interrupted–” Amelie’s voice trails with the thought, not needing Harry to know the answer. Her eyes take in the sight before her – her boyfriend, leaning against his headboard, sweat clinging to his forehead, his hand dipped beneath the duvet. “Okay, Mr Styles, tell me, which part got you – m’legs or the heels.”

Harry’s eyes roll to the back of his head at the thought of having to choose. “Always your legs, baby, but those heels were something else.” His adam’s apple bobs in his throat with a heavy gulp as Amelie turns the camera around, a silk robe hanging loosely from her shoulder, the material barely covering her chest and the heat between her thighs. “Ames, you’re not, um, wearing anything under that, are you?”

“Would you like to see?” Amelie smirks, gently tugging at the satin bow clinging loosely to her waist and having the robe fall around her as Harry nods passionately, his eyes wide and taking in the sight. Only her heels cling to her ankles, a lace pair of panties that Harry adores, her skin naked and bare to him. “How are you, baby?”

“’m aching for you,” Harry whimpers, his eyes flitting between his hand beginning to pump his cock, tugging lightly at the base, the sensation making him moan. His hand is sweaty, gliding over his shaft, the slightly slick feeling reminding him of the way Amelie’s lips always feel suckled around him.

“Gon’a let me help you, baby,” Amelie hums, her fingertips poking between her lips and beginning to suck on the digits the way she would his cock, her eyes fluttering closed as her cheeks hollow and a suckling noise sounds through the speaker, Harry’s heavy breathing matching the way her mouth would be bobbing around his shaft. “Can you picture me? Can you see my mouth around you?”

“Fuck, yes.”

“Kissing your thighs, baby, and your tattoos,” Amelie smirks, releasing her fingertips and dragging the wetness along the inside of her thigh, replicating the feeling of Harry’s lips on her skin. “’m lookin’ at you, and ‘m kissing you, licking you, slowly going all the way down, taking you all the way. Can feel you at the back of m’throat, baby. Love the way it feels.”

“Fuck’s sake,” Harry moans, his voice gravelly and rasped and his orgasm nearing every second Amelie continues to speak. His thumb brushes over his tip to mimic the way her tongue would swirl against him, the light tugging and pumping alongst his shaft following the way her head works against his thighs, the tightness of his fist desperately trying to repeat the hollowness of her cheeks. All Harry could envision was the way her mouth felt around him, the way her hand lightly tugged at his balls for a moan or the way her fingertips would pinch his thighs. “’m close, baby.”

Amelie gently spread her thighs apart, the sight making his eyes widen and his mouth dry. Her fingertips slowly play at the lace clinging to her hips and hiding her heat. “God, what I would give to have you inside me, right now.”

Harry loses it at Amelie’s words. His lips parting and a moan escaping his throat, his hand beginning to speed as his orgasm chases the burning arousal in his stomach. His cheeks flare red, the feeling of being inside her making his skin prickle with bumps and every aroused sensation to feel overcharged. His orgasm overcomes him without warning, his climax warm against his stomach, thick and white against his skin.

Harry heaves a shaky breath, panting as he regains his composure, a frown tugging at his lips as Amelie shrugs the silk robe around her torso, once again. “Leave it off.”

“No,” Amelie squeaks, giggling as the heels are set near the door and her bare feet pad into the studio once more, “I have work to get done and you got off. My work with you for the evening is done.”

“Ames,” Harry whispers, a smile perked on his lips as he admires her beginning to work on her canvas once again, her phone set against the wall to be able to see him all at once.

“Hm.”

“Are you going to send me the other photos you took? Or are you going to make me suffer and wait until I see you next month?”

“Took one nude, Harry,” Amelie reasons, shaking her head and setting her paintbrush against the makeshift palette, “and you saw it.”

“That was not a nude,” Harry says assuredly, shaking his head and clicking his tongue at her. “I know you, Miss Beneventini, and I know you never do anything half-assed. As much as I adore that picture you posted, I know that you’ve taken more.

“Wan’a bet,” she teases, crossing her arms in front of her chest and pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. Her mind traces to the intimate photos that she’d taken once her younger sister left for the evening, the thought of sending the photos to Harry making her heart race and her skin tinge with a slight embarrassment and adrenaline. Amelie has never wanted to send pictures to anyone before.

Amelie never wanted to do a lot of things before she met Harry.

“Amelie Fay, ‘m certain that you took naughty pictures like this because you knew ‘m a sucker fo’ you and would tell you to send them,” Harry justifies, narrowing his eyes and pursing his lips to hide the smirk that tugged at the corners of his mouth. He could see Amelie’s brain reeling, trying to decide if she should send the photos or not.

“Are you going to tell me to send them, Mr Styles? Because, I’m very happy with leaving the photos – if I took any – in my archives.”

“This is me, Mr Harry Styles, asking you, Miss Amelie Beneventini, to send the photos.”