#well it can be used as anatomy reference...... at the very least

[the-ancient-dragons]

How to Spot a Dragon Before it Spots You!

(Written by a human for humans in the Wings of fire universe).

Transcriptions of my chicken scratch and closeups of each tribe can be found here (two separate posts)!

Otherwise, next week I begin Overcomplicating the Pantala tribes. See you then!

I was inspired by a bird of prey identification poster at my sister's school. It had a very similar layout. I really loved the coloured poses and the multiple silhouettes and thought it would work so well for the Wings of Fire dragons. I'd seen another artist experiment with their wings shapes and wanted to give it a try myself. This is the result! I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

All the designs you see here are not final - I drew these without properly planning their full bodies, but the final versions I will try to keep as similar as possible. The only change I might make is the position of their wings. I also won't go back and change this because it doesn't need it. They look good enough like this and, who knows, the changes I make might not be enough that the final designs would be any different. I will be doing a lot of muscle and skeletal anatomy, possibly written in the perspective of a NightWing since they seem like the type to explore the insides of a dragon for science.

This, however, is written in the perspective of a very lucky human who saw these dragons and lived to tell the tale. Or maybe it was a collaborative effort between multiple people adding their own wisdoms, like the Dragon Manual in HTTYD 1. I haven't read Dragonslayer but I think they refer to the dragons as '[element] dragon' (not [Element]Wing at least). I also think that they're not sure RainWings exist (at least according to the 'Here Be Dragons?' over the rainforest, but I didn't want to exclude them from this piece).

The main purpose this guide would serve in-universe would be to help humans identify dragons, preferably before ever being seen. That's why I used a lot of auditory and movement descriptions unique to each tribe, ways that a person could identify a dragon without needing to be close.

I'll be splitting the closeups into 3 and 4 tribes each following this post so you're not scrolling for 10 years (you still will be but I'll try to keep it brief. Will I succeed? No!

Stay tuned next week for the beginning of Overcomplicating the Pantalan Tribes: SilkWings!!!

[botanyshitposts]

Hey! I'm not a botanist, but I'm in circles where it's a bigger thing and I'm kind of curious about something.

So, from an outsider's perspective, the genus Garcinia has a lot of weird and messy classifications. For example, common species like G. intermedia and G. gardneriana are really similar to Garcinia brasiliensis, to the point that it's pretty controversial if they're actually separate species. The Garcinia species colloquially known as "achachairú" also appears to bear a lot of similarities to that trio (although much less than they share with each other), HOWEVER it's almost exclusively referred to (in cultivation and in studies) as G. humilis, a Carribean species with small oval-shaped leaves, despite actually having very long lanceolate leaves and being exclusively found in the Andean foothills of Bolivia. Also, multiple frequently cultivated species like Luc's garcinia and Russell's sweet garcinia haven't actually been described yet, despite for example the former having a decent amount of scientific interest and frequent genetic testing done on it.

All of these odd classification things and even more others have been pretty well known in my circles for the past 15 years-ish, but still nobody seems anywhere close to a conclusion for them. How long does it usually take for a genus to get organized when it has as many species as Garcinia does? And how do they do it? Do they go around testing every single species or only a few at a time? If a species is currently not named, do the same people usually describe them as part this endeavor, or just leave them for somebody else? I saw Plinia and Artocarpus recently got reshuffled a lot because of some prominent genetic studies on them, and several new species and even genera were added, but it just seems alien to me how stuff like that even ends up happening. There are so many plants out there!

Sorry if I'm asking the wrong person here, but I've been wondering about how this stuff will eventually be resolved for yeeeearrs

There are so many plants out there!

ok im kind of surprised i can offer a few possible answers to this question despite having never heard of this but i think i can. if the question is 'why aren't some plants actually described', this is the primary reason why.

when i was in plant anatomy class in college, the person teaching us was a plant anatomist who assigned us different plants from the greenhouse to dissect and describe in a paper for her, and she told us that we might find something that hadn't been described before, which was pretty shocking to me. what do you mean i could potentially find a new-to-science thing? has nobody in history looked at this plant that's just growing in the greenhouse upstairs??

what she said was that no, sometimes not. there are so many plants out there that it's difficult to do one exact in-depth description and published examination of each species, so what botanists end up doing is doing or finding one in-depth examination of one species in a specific group and assuming that all the others in the group are at least similar, if not the same. which is good because it saves time and works as a shorthand, especially if there's not much funding, but also sometimes it has the potential to overlook more nuanced differences that can go undiscovered for a long time. but that's just botanical species in the conventional sense, which i don't think is as straightforward in what you're describing.

another answer to this question that's more specific to the species you're talking about here is that plants are having sex. they have so so so soooo much sex. few things they enjoy more to be honest. and given that the most conventional (but not only) definition for different species is 'can't have sex with other species because it's too different from them', the lines get blurrier to deal with, and one thing botanists do when the lines between species get too blurry (because of all the sex) is to just assume that they're all part of some kind of hard-to-describe genetic soup with individual plants falling along gradients or spectrums of similarities or differences, and in this case you'll see botanists just name the most prominent species among them and call it the '[most common suspect] complex', which groups together all the ones that happen to be having sex with each other at the same time, just to make them easier to talk about. this typically doesn't mean that they're species-less, but more that they can be thought of as a group with a few distinct points where they can look very distinct, and those points are the species, if that makes sense; see the citrus sex graph at the end for an example.

i also see from a cursory google search that people seem to be planting and eating these in a more widespread way, and people are talking about them on forums and stuff. this is one of the cases in botany where things get tricky, because a person looking for traits in a fruit that's having tons of sex might not actually be looking for the same things botanists are looking for when describing a species-- it might seem easiest to just find which species or few species are the tastiest and grow those, but if it's a genetic soup then all you can really do is do it the old fashioned way and breed individual plants for the traits you want. which, who knows, could end up being a hybrid between all of them.

case in point: again i am not completely up to date with the lore here but i found a forum thread where people were debating which species to plant and the consensus was just to plant multiple species at once, which is fine but is also really funny given that it DOES facilitate even more sex, thus blurring the lines even further and-- if the posters decide to plant the resulting seeds from the fruits-- will create even MORE hybrid plants of no discernible concrete species in the plant soup. the hybrid of a hybrid of a hybrid of a hybrid or whatnot. when does one stop calling it a hybrid between two species and start calling it 'the tree in grandma's backyard that's the tastiest of the berries i've tried'? that is the question, truly, one humanity has had for millennia in the search for the tastiest berry, and at that point it might just be easier to call it a variety or cultivar, which are horticultural terms for just that-- a distinct 'kind' among the same species that taste good subjectively and can be reliably rebred and harvested, like all the apple varieties people debate about.

another reason is that plant phylogenies are hard and brain-twisting and plant taxonomists and systemisists are among our strongest warriors. it's not uncommon at all in botany to be researching something and to find out it's been reshuffled because of a new breakthrough on the case a bunch of people more qualified on the subject decided made more sense like a decades later. sometimes species themselves will even change names multiple times if it turns out that it was described earlier by someone else considering the new circumstances. if you're a really unlucky or just controversial plant all this can happen over and over again until, finally, the trees of math have been resolved in a way that makes sense. how long will it take? surely there is a concrete end to the madness? nah. lol

finally, if you're looking into studies on this, you should know that some phylogeny stuff is opinion-based or subjective, especially at first. what counts as a new group for one group of researchers might not count as one for another. so when you see stuff where people are inventing new categorizations or genuses or whatnot or merging multiple ones together spontaneously, it'll depend on how well supported their reasoning is and what the evidence seems to show, and the larger community of plant taxonomists will, overtime, decide what they want to do with that information-- which may include verifying it or refuting it with more evidence. what researchers are proposing when they split stuff off or merge it together is a new or updated model for thinking about existing information, and that model may be more or less useful than the existing one for the means of actually learning more about the plants.

anyway in short there are lots of reasons why this might not be sorted out and the more sex these plants have the longer it's gonna take. i'm strongly reminded of that one citrus sex graph (its this one) (screenshotted to see it on night mode):

[artfromsaturn]

Collection of Free Art Tutorials

I don't usually make text post on this blog, but a nice artist I know was asking for tutorials a while back and I forgot to send some to them while in school. So here's a post on it since it's easiest to grab and go this way. :)

This list focuses on the basics. I'm focusing on the foundations of art, so medium is generally irrelevant and you can use physical or digital with these. You'll have to google more specific tutorials on things like character design and such.

One of the biggest pieces of advice I can give to you is strangely, introduce things to yourself one at a time. In art class, we took whole topics week by week. For high school, we did a few exercises then spent a week drawing/painting and doing your piece(s). For basic art 1 & 2 in college, we did 1-2 exercises and then did 1-2 drawings, followed by HW (which we turned in next week) and sketchbook practice (which she'd check at midpoints). For basic art lessons with a tutor, we did practice then our own art. You can see the pattern here - the point is don't be distressed if you don't get everything at once, or the lesson in 2 weeks, or the lesson in 3 years - we practice and do a lot over time, and you'll pick up on things you need to improve naturally and through help with others. Take time to be proud of your art in mini steps too, even if it's not the best! You tried and attempting to climb an obstacle over and over again before finally leapfrogging it is still progress to it.

Overall tutorials:

DrawABox.com is a site that's dedicated to art exercises and practicing when you can. They talk about the basics of art as well as how practice is important. It can get tough at times and it's ok to stop and do a balance of say those practices and doodles if you choose to try and do all of it's stuff - but you don't have to either. It's just a nice basic education done by some art nerds who like going hard.

Ethering Brothers - these guys are famous for their 40billion tutorials. If you need help on a specific idea, search their gallery and you'll likely find something.

Thundercluck's Art Fundamentals - She did a good huge ass tutorials on how things work, and it's the least overwhelming of the 3 I got in this section, so I suggest it as one of the first to look at for digital stuff.

Art Instructions Blog - Another good & simpler website that goes great into fundamentals. They focus more on traditional art but if you're digital, you can replicate most of the techniques - art fundamentals and subjects cover all mediums. Very important

Drawsh - Particularly notes on Construction: construction is the basics of building an illusion of a 3D image on a page. Figuring out how to build shape gives depth to your work, and learning how to see in 3D lets you be able to draw an item then move it around in your head (sometimes, when you're good enough, don't be afraid to pull out a reference or use live subjects). Construction is how to figure out the foundation of your drawing, and good planning = better picture! This link starts at the back, hit newer post to go forward.

There's a lot on anatomy and other nitty gritty details for when you want to practice those as well.

Griz and Norm's Assorted tips - Long time artist talk about various tips and tricks they use in art and how to avoid certain pitfalls. It's eclectic but great to look through.

James Gurney's Blog - He's got a lot of thoughts, a lot of tips, and a lot of adventures he catalogues. It's the least organized out of these but fortunately he has plenty of tags and most post have something neat going on. He's fantastic!🥰

BEFORE ALL OTHER BASICS….

How to Make Your Art Look Nice: Mindset

There's a lot of artist with different perspectives on how to approach art and your mindset while doing it, but the general consensus is that it's a process and sometimes you have to remind yourself to enjoy art!

Line

How to draw straight lines without a ruler. …but for the love of all that's good do NOT feel bad about using one! This talks about how to hold your pencil and how to do some good freehand stuff, some good practice.

5 grips for holding a Pencil for Drawing - This goes for pencil, pen, tablet, etc.. Get comfortable and figure out what's right for you and your pictures. I'd like to note that paintbrush holding will overlap, but some will differ.

A few line drawing exercises that help with line confidence.

Types of line drawings & what they are.

Contour Line & exercises with Mrs. Cook - Contour lines are one of the first art exercises I do in all the drawing classes I've taken. The good news is that they're surprisingly fun & look neat, even the blind contours!

Good deep thoughts on lines and how to use them.

Line Weight Tutorial

Lineart Weight Tips!

How to show variation in your line art: part 1 & part 2.

Some teacher's Drawing 1 & 2 lessons put online.

Light, Shadow, & Value

An introduction to tonal values.

Why values are important. The main reasons are that they give depth to a piece, and values literally shape our world.

Tonal Values: Everything you need to know

How does light work & the basics on Light

Light & Shadow in Art - much more in depth of the above! Highly recommended if you have time to spare.

Understanding grayscale/monochrome art. Great for shading & planning.

A guide to Cross Hatching (and hatching in general) - As a side note, crosshatching is one of the early things taught as it marries Line + Value into a nice neat package and helps add form with just a pen.

Crosshatching for Comics

Learn more about coloring by working in grayscale

How to Make Your Art Look Nice - Contrast!

Using lighting to make your art look nice.

Some light & shadow classifications.

Edges - notes on how they work in shading.

Color

A side note - color theory doesn't differ much, but color MIXING will change between mediums. If you're doing traditional colored pencil, you're overlapping 2 or more pigments on top of each other. If you're doing traditional paint, you're mixing & creating a solution/emulsion (depends on the pigment and binding) of pigments with the particles reflecting light in different ways. In digital, overlapping colors & blending colors depend on how the program you use calculates it if you're not just putting 2 color side by side. This just means you have to adjust your mixing when you switch between them. :)

Slawek Fedorczuk's Light & Color Tips - also shows how to guide through a scene.

The Color Tutorial Part 1 & 2 by Sashas - A personal favorite.

Color Studies 1-6 by Sheri Doty Amazingly nice breakdown on how color works in simple terms.

Sarah Culture's Tips on Color

The value of underpainting

A few notes on reflective light.

Experimental color techniques with Alai Ganuza: first post, second, & third.

Color zones of the face charts

Composition

Good Tips on Composition

Here's an example of how you can search the Etherington Brothers' stuff and get like 10 tutorials and tips on one subject. Composition & Cover Design, Shadow Composition, Two Line Composition - plus more.

How to make your art look nice: Thumbnailing!

And don't be afraid to make silly thumbnails or sketches.

Composition Examples - charts like these are great when you can't think of something yourself. There's no shame in using them.

Flow and Rhythm

Formulas for landscape composition.

Perspective

Perspective Drawing Tutorial by Julie Duell

Linear & Atmospheric Perspective Guide

One Point Perspective City Tut by Swingerzetta

Niso Explains Perspective - these are great for drawing figures in perspective!

Putting characters into scenes and drawing backgrounds

Backgrounds that make your character stand out!

Using background detail to guide the eye.

Odds and Ends

I shit you not, probably 1/3rd of my color, value, & structure knowledge comes from pixel art since I've done so much of it and it is all about challenging yourself to do the most you can with limitations. Check out lospec's tutorial database for fun and see how it compares to art techniques you're doing - even if you never try a medium, it's always interesting to see how it works. :D

How to Make Your Art Look Nice: Reference Images & Style, Pushing Proportions, and developing style.

Foervraengd talks about how he expanded his comfort zone with concept art & landscape drawing.

Luna Art talks about what they're thinking when doing concept art.

Repeating visual motifs in character design looks cool.

Eric's Thoughts on Drawing Backgrounds and Props.

Show vs. Tell: Why Visual is Not Optional in comics.

The Lost Vocabulary of Visual Story Telling Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, & Day 4.

Traditional Animation's 2 Digital Library books, The Know-How of Cartooning by Ken Hultgren & Advanced Animation by Preston Blair are two books from the golden age of animation they have up on their site for free viewing!

Animation resources dot org has a lot of cool stuff. Here's Nat Falk's How to Make Animated Cartoons (part 1). Their pages on Instruction & Theory are a good start.

Books

Good news: the internet archive has a TON of resources. Make sure to check around and toggle filters, it's a bit weird with organization. For example, a book can be under art or drawing - techniques, depending on who catalogues it.

Andrew Loomis is someone artist tend to die-hard reccomend. His work is collected here & here on the internet archive (one is Andrew Loomis, the other is Loomis, Andrew - thanks). I own Figure Drawing for All It's Worth and I recommend checking all of his stuff out, especially if you're having trouble with bodies and hands.

The Animator's Survival Guide by Richard Williams is mandatory in animation classes for good reason - it's fantastic!

Perspective for Comic Book Artist by David Chelsea is great for any type of artist. So is Extreme Perspective & Perspective in Action.

Scott McCloud's Understanding Comics, Reinventing Comics, & Making Comics. The first one is on the internet archive, the second two are likely avaliable at your library or at a bookstore as they're pretty popular.

Speaking of comics, Drawing Comics the Marvel Way has been a favorite of comic artist for years no matter what comic book companies and artist you like, it's a good introduction.

Anything by or endorsed by James Gurney, Color and Light: A Guide for the Realistic Painter is one of my favorites (this is his official page but you can get them elsewhere for cheaper too).

Art resource blogs with good tagging systems: @artist-refs , @help-me-draw , @helpfulharrie , @art-res , @drawingden , & @how-to-art

Lastly, I suggest if you find something you like online for free, SAVE IT! Whether it is through the Wayback Machine, screenshotting a whole webpage, reblogging/retweeting something, or putting it on pinterest, digital media is fickle and tends to go up in smoke when you least expect it. I have a partially organized Pinterest board that helped me find most of the stuff I wanted to keep. Figure out what works for you and save what you can.

[miasmaghoul]

do you have any thoughts about mountains first time? doesnt have to be a whole ass prompt fill lol but who gets big boy?

(anon I regret to inform you that you sent this while i was disastrously high so you get a Weird One - warnings for terato/monsterfucking, mentions of blood (nonsexual), inhuman anatomy, scent kink, agendered character referred to as "it", use of cunt/clit to describe its anatomy, and some lore at the end)

I still have to finish that fic about his first time bottoming, that's with Omega. But his first time in general?

Well, technically...

Mountain was more feral than most when he was summoned, took a long time to settle into his vessel. He cost a number of siblings their lives before the higher ups decided it was a better idea to let him loose in a warded-off section of the forest. Let him work out the more animalistic traits in an environment better suited to his elemental nature.

He wanders the trees completely unglamoured, with furry, back-bent hooved legs and patches of moss, lichen and bark coating his limbs and torso. His antlers, still budding, grow faster like this and the trees in his path bear fresh gouges as a result. He hunts everything he can, tearing in with claws and elongated jaws alike. The scruffy mane of hair he sports lies matted with days worth of blood, sweat and grime, and it's the fourth night before Mountain finds his appetite sated.

Well, one of his appetites at least.

This new hunger is similar, but very different. He knows lust, of course - no being in Hell wouldn't - but ghouls don't have corporeal forms Downstairs. They feel things, sure, but in the way you "feel" and intense thought, or a specific fantasy. Like this, though, anchored to a physical being he's still learning the ins and outs of, the pressure sitting heavy between his thighs feels foreign. Foreign, but also hot and urgent and fuck he needs.

Mountain paws at himself with rough, inexperienced hands until the sheath between his legs starts to swell. The ghoul watches as it grows, chest heaving when the flared head reveals itself. Already slick and throbbing, Mountain's stomach clenches when every inch is finally exposed and the length of it pulses.

It's then that a certain scent makes his nostrils flare, his eyes go wide, and something deep inside Mountain goes achingly tight. It's not the first time he's smelled it since he woke in the forest, naked and groggy, but it's the first time he's felt the urge to find its source. Now that he does, though?

He needs.

Mountain crashes through the trees on instinct alone, panting and drooling down his chin no matter how many times his hooves catch a root or a row of thorns tears at his flesh. The scent grows thicker the deeper he gets into the dense wood; it's something raw, something syrupy sweet yet intoxicatingly bitter. Like burning leaves on a hot autumn day, rich and earthen but undercut with a sharpness that could only mean desire.

The closer he gets, the more he recalls smelling it before. He remembers catching it when he was savoring the spoils of a hunt, one he'd spent melting into the trees to stalk a particularly jumpy buck. Remembers waking up once, in a small clearing he'd thoroughly marked, only to find a second scent joining his own. Not covering his, not a challenge - though Mountain took great pleasure in...reclaiming his territory anyway. More like an invitation, one Mountain had had no interest in following at the time. That wasn't what he had needed.

Now that he's close to drowning in that scent, though, his cock dripping as it wags between his thighs, Mountain has no idea how he's gone so long without it.

He crashes through the branches of an overgrown willow, blood pounding in his ears and groin in equal measure, and the shiver that wracks him is one shared with the source of this intoxicating scent.

It sits in a nest at the base of the willow, one tucked into its roots and flanked by flowering bushes. There are enough gaps in the tree's limbs to let patches of sunlight filter through, dappling the creature before him.

The one currently on all fours, presenting its flushed, swollen cunt and staring over its shoulder and directly into the center of his brain.

It must be another ghoul, something distant tells him. He only has flashes of the time before the forest, but he can faintly recall a pair of...humans, were they called? They shifted before his eyes, one into a being of black fur and unnatural smoke and the other into scales and fins. They spoke the language of the Pit, and that's the only reason Mountain remembers them.

This one, this creature, looks similar to him, he thinks. He only has a few interrupted reflections in brooks and streams to go by, but it's legs are like his. Back-bent, hooved, but the hair coating them is jet black instead of his own sun-stained auburn. Their torsos differ too - where Mountain could blend in with the bark of any tree, it is instead coated in a combination of thicker fur and sleek black feathers that rustle like the leaves above. No antlers atop it's head, but instead a pair of segmented horns that curl against its skull. It's smaller than he is, more angular, and the few facial features Mountain can see are just as sharp as the talons it has dug into the soft earth.

It makes a sound then, a rattling hiss of a thing, and Mountain growls in response. It's automatic, as is the way he drops to all fours for his final approach. It watches his every move, unnatural eyes wide and growing blacker by the second, and Mountain flinches when it tips it's head and a scratchy voice fills his skull.

New, it rasps in a familiar but broken dialect, forked tongue flicking between it's lips. Maybe a ghoul? It's speech is odd. You're new. New smell. Different.

Mountain watches it's cunt pulse, a thick trail of slick dripping from its hole straight down the fat nub of its clit. That shiny length flexes, and Mountain's cock responds in kind. He snarls as he crawls up to the creature, licking his jaws. That incredible scent, so thick he can taste it, would be enough to drive anyone mad.

Could feel you coming. Could...in the roots and stones...

Mountain barely registers the words floating through his head, but he really likes the way they fade into an audible sharp trill when he buries his nose into the source of his torment.

The taste of it is beyond compare, and Mountain can't help but drag his face through its copious slick while he wriggles his long, thick tongue inside. Desperate to coat himself in it, ears filled with the unearthly sounds of the creature offering itself to him on a silver platter. His hips work in useless, uncoordinated humps, cock jabbing at thin air as that tight hole clamps down around his tongue, and the overwhelming desire he feels to be inside the being before him hits him like a punch to the gut.

You....watching me...

Mountain manages the message as he moves to bracket that smaller figure. It nods, shudders when he settles against its back, snuffling at the crook of its neck. Using his snout to nudge its head, force it to expose its throat so he can feel it thrum under his tongue.

Watched...hunt. Watched me...kill...

It gives a chirrup, and Mountain feels its short, raised tail twitching against his stomach. His cock jumps, the broad head smacking against its clit, and Mountain's growl shakes the earth itself. Those same stupid humps take over, and Mountain stretches his jaws to wrap around the back of its neck to force it still. He uses the last of his brainpower to throw a final thought into its mind.

Why...bring me...to you?

Mountain sinks his fangs into its throat just enough to get a taste of what lives beneath its skin, and as his eyes roll back the creature moans.

Different, it whispers back, canting its hips when Mountain mindlessly tries to line himself up. So long...since something was different...

Mountain's grunting like a disobedient dog, every thrust bumping his cock against its thighs, its tail, it's mound. So focused on getting it inside without releasing the creature from the cage of his limbs that the frustration only builds, his snarls becoming more and more bestial until -

The body beneath him arches as best it can, and as Mountain's aching cock finally squeezes between swollen lips to pop inside there's no way to know which of them is louder.

Mountain doesn't remember much after that.

One day, though, he'll learn the story of the feral ghoul who haunts these woods. The product of a botched summoning, it was always destined to become a creature of instanct. Tied to the realm Above only because its summoner still lives, left to its own devices where it won't pose a threat.

One day Mountain will learn the story of what used to be Cowbell, and when he does nothing will keep him from going back to those woods.

[fatesundress]

⭑ observations ii. tom riddle x reader

part i here.

summary. two weeks after your last encounter with tom shatters all of your previous observations, tensions are high, and eventually, something's gotta give. (it's tom. he’s giving head)

tags. smut (so. so much. minors BE GONE TO WHENCE YOU CAME!), fem anatomy + reader is referred to as a woman by someone, fingering, cunnilingus, piv, again implied tall!tom or short!reader (take it however you prefer), jealous tom does not understand friendship but then again neither does reader apparently, a little wine is had, the room of requirement is used shamelessly as a plot device, did i mention smut, i’ve lost my mind etc etc.

note. this is a part two, so go ahead and read the first part and come back if you'd like :) obligatory preface: it's safe to assume any smut i write within hogwarts is a university au — these people are all 18+ tyvm. also woahh was not expecting the love on my last post so thank you! i'm still trying to figure this whole acc out so support, questions, (requests? never done those before) anything is appreciated ♡

word count. 6.3k

The next two weeks are agony. You don’t, in fact, stop meeting with Godefrey to study, because you do, in fact, still need a good mark in Ancient Runes and for all his faults he can reach the tallest shelves and he’s a faster writer than you. Also, Tom Riddle is fantastic with his hands but this does not make him God.

You find pureblood politics a bit archaic. You find muggle courting a bit stifling. This leaves very little space for what took place between you and Tom in the middle of a corridor two weeks ago (you can’t stop wincing at how insane that sounds) and very little patience for his utterly original and not-at-all entitled request that you halt your studies with Godefrey. Godefrey doesn’t stick his hands up your skirts while the two of you are studying, doesn’t silence your gasps with a shush and a finger to your mouth, doesn’t — wouldn’t (you’re so imaginative when you want to be) — tell you to keep reading as his thumb draws circles between your legs, tell you to repeat the words that get caught in your throat, tell you how much he likes it when your eyes go dumb and glassy and all you can say is his name. So, really, Tom should have nothing to worry about.

“I swear,” Selwyn says, picking at a plate you don’t think she’s actually eaten anything off with how distracted she is, “he’s looked over here at least three times.”

You don’t dare glance at who you know she’s talking about. “You’re obsessed.”

Pot. Kettle. Whatever.

“Are you sure you didn’t do something to upset him in Potions? Didn’t botch something that might mar his perfect record?”

You flick her forehead and she scowls. “I’m not an idiot, Selwyn. I handle myself just as well in Potions as he does — he wouldn’t —” Wouldn’t have complimented your rapport if that weren’t true, wouldn’t have said you communicate efficiently, make a good pair, probably wouldn’t have — fingered you in the hallway? — yes, that too. Slipped your mind. So easy to forget.

You take a long exhale, and smile impassively at her. “I didn’t botch anything, trust me.”

She finally takes a bite of food. “Maybe I did something…”

And then she’s lost in thought again, eating now, at least, and you shake your head softly as you watch what are likely a million different theories flitting through her head.

“Morning,” Tom says to you when you enter Potions after breakfast, a delicate smile tugging at his lips.

You have, of course, trained for this. 

It’s your fifth — sixth? — time sharing a table with him since that night and it is somehow easier by nature and harder by anticipation (of what, you have no idea) every time. The first was terrible. Unsalvageable and without a silver lining. It had taken almost an hour that morning to charm the violent hues of red and purple spanning the column of your throat, and ultimately, the marks were so persistent you’d forgone the glamours and decided to just wear a turtleneck. You’d been fortunate it was completely inconspicuous to wear such a thing in December, but that was about all there’d been to be grateful for. You hadn’t been able to look at Tom all class and his hand had brushed yours once to take a phial from you and you’d flinched so sharply it would have shattered on the floor if he hadn’t caught it. And he’d smiled, like he’s smiling now, a soft, “Careful,” that honestly, for a short moment, made you want him dead.

Now you could speak just fine, look him in the eyes in practised intervals, and almost, impressively, make articulate conversation with him again. Make stupid comments about Slughorn and Lestrange and bear the weight of his grin knowing it was there for you.

His, he’d called you. A very funny thing.

“Morning,” you answer on a smiling sigh, sleepy but jovial all the same. 

You deserve applause for this.

“Tired?”

“Mhm — Essays for Ancient Runes are due Friday and it’s been keeping us up all night.”

His eyes flash with something you’ve yet to ascertain. Your research has been put temporarily on hold, scattered and splintered by the revelation that your first observation was, admittedly, a little bit off, and you have no means of figuring out a look like that when you can’t even begin to figure out anything else.

“Has it?” he asks, a tinge less friendly.

“Well,” you say, grinding the lacewing flies, “that’s commonplace, isn’t it? You take all sorts of advanced classes, I’m sure you understand the work it takes.”

“...Hm.”

That’s it. That’s all you get from him.

And if Selwyn’s concern over you botching your work in Potions wasn’t already, obviously dispelled, the glee on Slughorn’s face as he assesses your and Tom’s cauldron should do it.

“Brilliant! Just brilliant!” He claps a hand over Tom’s back, regarding you both with pride so thick it clouds his eyes, like he's drifted into a revery of the future (you and Tom, you expect, are his most prized graduates, making history under his name, proving his immense wisdom) before he appears to return to Earth. “Ten points between the two of you, hm? Very, very good — though, of course, no surprises there!”

He chuckles to himself as he evaluates the other students, and you catch a horrified wheeze of Godefrey’s name (bless his heart) as one of the cauldrons in the back begins to sputter and froth.

You look to Tom with some droll little comment at making it to the end of term with top marks, but his gaze is burning into Godefrey’s table in such a way you wouldn’t be surprised if it was what was causing his cauldron to boil.

Well. Perhaps not, then.

You and Godefrey hand in your essay that Friday with more relief than apprehension — you both decide it’s quite good — and you laugh loudly and breathlessly as he picks you up and thanks you a thousand times, spinning you until you’re dizzy. You refrain from making any promises to attend his Quidditch games, but he vows to let you have the snitch he catches.

And Slughorn, you come to find, was not exaggerating his elation at your skill. After trotting after you on your walk back from Ancient Runes to invite you to the last Slug Club dinner of the year, your spirits are high with the blissful satisfaction of a job well done and a night to celebrate it with.

You can breathe, finally, when it’s the last week of school before Christmas break and Selwyn’s zipping the back of a last-minute dress you purchased in Hogsmeade.

“Gorgeous,” Selwyn says with a grin. “Wish this school would have a bloody ball so I could really dress you up.”

“Buy a doll, Selwyn; you can dress them however you like.”

“You are such a —”

You burst into laugher, swatting her wand away as she pokes your side with it. 

“Just — go then, before I hex you.”

“All right, all right!” you concede, arms raised in surrender. “Don’t ruin all your hard work now.”

“Oh,” she calls on your way out the door. You turn and there’s a mischievous look in her eyes as she tucks her wand back in her pocket. “And do tell me before I leave tomorrow if Riddle stares at you all night.”

You groan as if it’s a truly abominable thing to imagine. Riddle, staring with those dark eyes of his? You, the centre of his attention? Ghastly. You daresay you’d never recover from the horror of it.

“Don’t leave before I tell you how remarkably uneventful a night it was,” you say with a sidelong glare, and leave before she can edge in the final word.

You have no idea what a Slug Club supper typically consists of, but you imagine for Christmas he’s gone a little further with his festivities. His office is glittering in hues of green and red and fleecy, snow-dappled gold. The lights overheard (some similar charm to the one in the Great Hall but a tad less complex, you think) drip and then vanish into the air like squeezed berries, and the berries — served with pastries and ice cream — taste like they must be enchanted with something.

Selwyn was right that the standard dress isn’t quite formal enough for a ball, but it’s… formal. The boys are in clean-cut dress robes and the girls are in fine gowns of different lengths. By the overwhelming number of them you recall being archetypes of Slytherin pureblood fanaticism, it makes sense how expensive they all look. You yourself brush up nicely, if not a bit more frugally, but you haven’t been to an event like this at the school yet, and that’s exciting on its own.

It’s another degree of training (is there going to be a marathon? Are you at war?), a step up from your preparations before Potions every other day, to be ready when Tom Riddle enters the room a respectable five minutes late with a gleam about him more captivating than any of the lights.

“Ah, Tom!” Slughorn exclaims, and ushers him into a seat you remark before Tom is even in it is discomfitingly near to yours. “We’re all here at last… Supper, then? Hope you aren’t too full already, I’ve got the House Elves running laps!”

You’re spared Tom’s closeness by a Ravenclaw couple sat in the chairs between you, their hands clasped under the table while they sip wine from their goblets, and you only realise the length of your observation when Tom glances at you from the spot over, and you startle yourself into reaching for your own goblet and pretending to enjoy Slughorn’s bitter wine.

You eat. You listen to cluttered, unending tales of Slughorn’s time at school and how he earned his post. You drink, and then you regret not drinking before eating because there’s only a very light, very nice buzz that warms you when you finish your cup, and the Ravenclaw couple is — oh, wait, it isn’t just them — they’re standing up to dance as a gramophone sparks to life and a low, dulcet instrumental begins to play. There are now two notably empty seats separating you from Tom.

What had you said this night would be? Blissful satisfaction? 

You couldn’t blame Selwyn for suggesting you’d blundered Potions — you didn’t feel exceptionally smart right now.

“I didn’t know you would be here tonight,” Tom says, pulling the chair beside you.

Where is the bottle of wine? No. Nevermind. You behave regrettably enough sober.

You manage a simple, “And yet.”

“...And yet.” His lips quirk before he takes a drink from his goblet. 

You lament for a second that you’ve only actually kissed those lips once. They spent a great deal longer on your neck.

“Will you be here over break?” he asks, and it isn’t an unreasonable thing to ask, you suppose.

“I think so. Why?”

“I’d like to know whether to expect you or not.”

Expect you… No, yes — revert to observation two: unusual is not an apt enough word for him.

It takes you a moment to conjure a response befitting polite dinner conversation. That is, after all, still what this is.

“I suppose you can. I’ll be busy, of course.”

Well, you didn’t say you conjured something good. It’s a big fat lie. Placating, vague, empty. And you suspect Tom knows that.

“Pity.”

Yes, he knows. He’s all quiet amusement again.

You stare off, satisfied to be left alone —

"And what is it that'll be taking so much of your time?"

“Well, I'm —” And now you have to build the lie — “I’ve told Godefrey I’ll attend to his Quidditch practise. Since the pitch isn’t in use.”

God, it’s so stupid it’s almost impressive — you don’t even know if Godefrey will be here over break, and you could have chosen any number of excuses that would pique Tom’s interest less than it’s apparently consistently piqued by the mention of your study partner. 

There’s that strange, indecipherable look again. Riddle is a perfect surname for him, you decide then, and you almost laugh at yourself for it, but that would probably not go over well should he ask what’s so funny.

“Have you, now? That’s very kind of you.”

“It’s hardly charity.”

“Hm, it’s kind of you to think so.”

You huff, tipping your goblet back to swallow the last meagre dregs of your wine.

“You look lovely.”

It’s just a little bit — just a tiny, straggling little bit of elderflower that captures your throat — and you cough into your goblet. “Thank — thank you.”

And, well, he looks lovely too. Obviously. Sickeningly so. You know little about his personal life but you’re positive he’s at least a half-blood, if not muggle-born, and it makes you wonder the influence of his renownedly plain black suit in a crowd of neat, long robes.

He manages with little effort to look better than all of them at their best.

His eyes drift over you appreciatively, quick enough not to be rude but — enough. (Enough that you daresay you might never recover from the horror of it.) You adjust under his gaze even when it’s situated on your face, far too heavy a thing for you to carry. “Does Godefrey call you lovely?”

What?

You blink at him, your mouth is probably open and you probably look stupid but he’s so… irritating. Yes, of course Godefrey calls you lovely. Godefrey tells you you’re the smartest woman he’s ever met (after his mother), and he drowns you with sherbet lemons at no cost, and he writes at the speed of light to match the quickness with which you recite your textbook, and none of it means anything. Tom is just —

“Unbelievable…”

He quirks a brow. “What was that?”

“I said you’re unbelievable, Riddle. Is it impossible for you to comprehend that I might have friends? That Godefrey is my friend?”

“Well, memory serves me right that you seemed a bit confused on the conventions of friendship last you mentioned it. Do forgive my uncertainty.”

He — that was —

“Well, that’s because we are not friends.”

“No.” He leans in. “We are not.”

You push your chair from the table with all the grace you can manage for such an abrupt thing: a tight, impersonal smile on your face as you walk away and approach Slughorn, only realising when you get there that your empty goblet is clutched in your hand like you’re trying to strangle it.

Whatever he sees on your face, he isn’t drunk enough not to frown at. “Ah, our newest gem — hardly seen you all night! Not leaving already, are we?”

You glance at the clock. It isn’t as though you’re being impolite by abandoning his party in the middle of the event. It’s quite late, the servers are stuck to the walls with little to do, and most of the room has divided into waltzing pairs.

“I’m taking my friend to the train station tomorrow, sir. Unfortunately I need to be up quite early.”

Yes, yes, it’s all so tragic. You’re depressed to go.

“Such a shame,” Slughorn frets, wobbling a tad and balancing himself on the wall. “You’ll be all right getting back? Not at all dizzy, are you?” His laugh is cleaved by a loud hiccough, and then he laughs even more. “My, well, I myself will need to be carried!”

“...I’ll be fine, sir. Thank you.”

“Oh, no trouble at all — there’s — hm… ah, Tom!”

No, no — is it bad you almost reach over and slap your palm over your professor’s mouth? Is it at all impressive that you don’t? You should look on the bright side in moments like these. You should admire your restraint.

But of course, Slughorn’s eyes don’t fall upon Tom for nothing. He's halfway across the room already, and Slughorn must have spotted him approaching to achieve this brilliant solution. “Tom can escort you back, no?”

Tom (unforgivably) is beside you now, a very mean, very pretty smile on his face.

“Not too much to ask, I should think? You know the castle best. Head Boy — sometimes I still can’t believe it!”

You look up at Tom and your jaw is clenched where you’ve since put down your goblet. There is too much tension in you to know what to do with, and he looks positively thrilled.

“It’s hardly charity, sir.” He holds out his arm.

You wonder what spell would catch him most off-guard if you were to blast him in the face right now.

Slughorn claps his hands together. “Ha! Yes, well… perfect, then! Off now, the two of you, off now. Do have a good — ” He hiccoughs again — “rest!”

You don’t even bother the diplomacy of smiling at Slughorn as your arm loops through Tom’s and you’re exiting the party. 

Neither of you say a word on the journey, and that’s very well.

If you could just get back to bed without speaking to him you may still consider it a good night. You may be able to push his strangeness and his entitlement and the annoying way his hair falls to another day, when he pesters you about Godefrey’s nonexistent Quidditch practise, which — come to think of it — you do think he told you he'd be headed home for the holidays. You really fumbled that one.

And then Tom’s thumb is brushing the bare skin of your arm and your walk stutters a bit. But he doesn’t mention it, and so neither do you.

And then he’s drawing down your elbow to your forearm so softly it almost feels like he isn’t touching you at all. He doesn’t mention it. Neither do you.

And then your arm, without really meaning for it to, is slipping from his and his hand is holding yours instead, feather-light as his fingers clasp yours and your breath is not the same as it was when you left.

He doesn’t mention it. He just keeps going.

His fingers work back up your arm and you shiver as they drag across your shoulder, gaze searing your neck as the soft digits find their way to your jaw, and you get the sense he’s remembering just how much he liked the taste of it, and you’re… you’re allowing it all again. You’re leaning in, you’re seeking him out, you want him flush against you and even that might not be satisfactory.

You are, in the end, a half-decent observer and a terrible liar.

You’re grabbing his hand with a small amount of direction and a great deal of meaning. You suppose it's because, historically, you’ve proven to have trouble with words in moments like these, and you don’t really know where you’re taking him but god, you know where you want him. Somewhere soft, this time, thick enough that you can fist your hands around it and melt. Somewhere he can hover over you, maybe hold you down a little, just until — maybe, miraculously — you might make him break a little too. Clamber over his lap. Make him yours.

“Tom,” you mouth, some question in the way your eyebrows knit.

The moment you say his name — the instant — he’s pulling you in, crushing his mouth against yours. And, ah, right, that’s what his lips feel like. You’d almost forgotten. 

This kiss is not chaste, hardly tender. It resists in that it asks you to push, to plead, to take this for yourself to prove how badly you want it, and he smiles into it when you do. And then, sated by your efforts, he lets you have him. You’re gripping the collar of his suit in your hands as his wander appreciatively over the back of your dress, pulling you into him as the kiss deepens. He’s savouring you like you’re something religious that’s been offered to him, and there’s the taste of wine on his tongue and you’re still here, aware enough that the symbolism isn’t lost on you.

“I've been thinking," he says between kisses, “about the way you felt when I touched you. I've been thinking about how long it might take before you need it again." 

You gasp at the sensation, and god, god, you've been wondering too, haven't you?

You’re pulling him impossibly closer and something hard is pressing into your hip and you clutch tighter onto his shirt as you moan into his mouth. You need it off, you think, and — has your dress been clinging to you like this all night? You need that off too. You need skin on skin. You careen him backwards without aim, your mind a muddled mess of all the many things your body is screaming it needs, like this is fucking imperative; to give it up would be catastrophic.

You suppose, based on what you’ve read, that that’s how the Room of Requirement works, but it’s still funny to think it would apply to this.

It hurts to remove yourself from him to watch in dumb awe as the door forms in the stone (to see the dark, languid shape of his eyes bearing down on you, the wet, stained pink of his lips), and Tom seems to recover from the revelation much faster than you.

His mouth is on yours once more, a hungry kiss; his free hand at your waist, guiding you through the door and shutting it carelessly behind him. 

He’s like fire against you, radiating as he presses down on you, his hand tangled in your hair and his hips flush against yours. You shiver as his mouth starts to move down (a cheap trick — he hasn’t forgotten how much you liked it the last time) from your jaw to your throat, as his lips trail down your chest and you're shivering into the warmth of him.

You’ve heard it said before, in some romantic sense, that it’s sometimes hard to tell where you end and someone else begins. 

This is not like that.

You've never been more aware of anything than the point where you and him meet.

You’re tugging at him blindly again, trusting in the nature of the Room like this isn't the first time you've been in it, and then you're stumbling down onto a bed you're quite sure wasn't there a moment ago (people say magic is a neutral force but evidently this is not the fucking case), fingers carding through Tom's hair as his body pins you into the mattress.

His mouth is molten hot as you squirm and pant beneath him, your breath coming faster than it ever has. Everything feels sharper and deeper and more intense under his touch, every sensation heightened until it's almost impossible to tell pleasure from pain, his tongue from his teeth.

How did it take you this long to do this again? To need him like this?

And his — you should really have the mind to see the mistake in all of this but perhaps that's for later — his fingers are pulling your sleeves down, propping your back to arch as he reaches under you to unzip your dress, apparently too impatient to sit you up and take it off properly so he just bunches it around your waist instead. There’s a moment where he stops to look at you, your chest exposed to him in the dim sconce-light, and then his mouth returns to circle your breast and you're biting down on a pillow to hold back the whimpering gasp that seeks to escape you. He hums around your flesh, and then he’s at your sternum, kissing a stripe to your belly button before pushing past the dress he's left ringed around your abdomen.

You shimmy under the weight of him to prop your head up — to see past the mass of silk that obscures his face from you as moves lower and lower, hands spanning your hips to keep you still.

His face hovers above your thighs, and he doesn’t move.

“Did you enjoy my fingers?" he asks. 

At that you freeze, thighs pressing together to bury the hand that's rising between them. 

Tom smiles. “Hm, you did." 

And then he spreads your legs apart, one hand pushing your underwear aside and regarding you with delicate, shameless appetite — something that might even be adoration: like this is all he ever wanted you to want.

“Do you think you'd enjoy my mouth, too?"

Words are gone. There's nothing left in you.

His head moves happily between your knees, holding them apart, pressing kisses to the base of your thighs. Your hands flail from the sheets, desperate to grip something else and you hold back a sound that feels like irritation and need at the same time. You need him closer, higher than this. He knows. You can feel his smile biting into your skin.

And then you manage a nod though you're not even sure he's looking at your face anymore (and what a picture to imagine he is) and you worry momentarily it won’t be enough for him — that he’ll ask you to be nice and say it out loud for him — but he hums with something merciful, and — his chin dips. You catch the smallest glimpse of his tongue before it’s on you, wet and slow and unrelenting and you say his name, but it’s a mewl; you choke on it. It sounds like a cry.

Pitiful, needy, undone. Just how he wants you.

You think all efforts to remain even remotely composed are thrown to the wind as soon as his tongue is lapping at you, fast and then slow, everything you want and not even remotely close. He sinks all his weight down as if he can predict the moment you'll writhe before you do — and you do. And with his grip he tells you to endure it. You only need him to say it with his hands and his mouth but he breathes back, licking his lips and he actually says it. “Be good.”

That makes your breath hitch and your cheeks swell impossibly hotter, and reality is a small glint in your peripheral where everything else is burning red. “Y-you’re—”

His mouth returns to you, tongue catching your clit in a drawn-out, agonising motion, and you gasp and lurch forward to inch through the sensation, craving more, more, more. Reason is lost on you, a throbbing familiarity forcing you to grind your teeth down on the pillow to stop yourself from telling him to — you don’t even know. Finish you. Abandon all reluctance. Just let you come as hard as you know he wants you to.

But he pauses, observant as he starts to work his fingers against you. Watching how your slick coats them like it’s the most enthralling sight he’s ever witnessed. Slowly, ever so slowly, he starts to push one inside of you, hearing your breath catch above him and the moan that comes tumbling out of your throat, pillow be damned.

You do your best to breathe through it, and you know he knows how to make you unfold like this, so the meticulous lightness of his ministrations tells you he’s trying to keep it from you now. You’re almost embarrassed about the fact that you’re dripping onto his hand regardless; his lips puffy, his gaze unnervingly, dizzyingly carving you in two.

“Just,” you rasp, clutching desperately at his wrist. “Tom, please.” 

Your begging must be music to his ears. (It’s a rare, unplanned fifth observation: that you think he’ll never get tired of hearing you say his name like that.)

He adds a finger. It’s encircling you, first, and no amount of restraint can stop the harsh gasp that leaves you, but then it’s his tongue and two fingers and he’s pushing into you how you wanted, and he makes a pleased sound against you, gripping you tighter with his free hand, still not allowing you movement and fuck, are you trying. What you're feeling now — the need, the want, everything —  is more than rational thought. Your mind goes blank, and all that matters is this, him, right here and now; nothing else exists, not even for a second. You moan, a low, throaty noise that's a little too loud, a little too intense; you can't recall if anything has ever come from you quite like it and Tom devours you at the sound.

More, you agree; it's almost an obsession in you now; more, more, please, anything and everything.

It’s the precision of his touch — not some bored, hurried transgression — that brings your hands helplessly to his hair.

“Tom,” you whine, holding him tight, and the purr of his mouth finding you again is something destructive.

As soon as you feel another swell of something deep down, your mouth is dropping open.

His tongue is sliding through you, fingers curling, and then your clit is in his mouth, and he’s watching you between your thighs as your eyes clench shut, and you’re coming.

Your voice breaks somewhere in the catastrophe of it. Your body spasms, electric down to every atom, and he pins you down through it. He doesn’t grant you the reprieve of escaping the frenzied, glorious torture of it. His mouth still lingers. His tongue moves thankful and unrelenting. 

He takes all of you, and you think this is destruction — creation — both. How terrifyingly similar they suddenly feel.

His lips are swollen and slick when he finally detaches them from you and you want to kiss him, but he’s leaning back to admire his work. You swallow, unable to blame him for it because you look down at yourself and — this is something else. You’re dripping down his chin. You're shaking. Your legs are still clenching around his torso. They’re holding him so tight you can’t imagine it doesn’t hurt.

But he just rolls off of you. Adjusts his trousers and your abdomen flutters and you think, don’t.

You don’t even realise you’re reaching for him until your hand is around his wrist and you’re still fucking sighing through the come-down, panting into the hot air.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, fingers damp on your chin as he holds you. You make a note that that’s the second time he’s done that. That you thought it was strangely intimate the first time and nothing’s changed other than how much more you like it.

And it doesn’t really feel like you can help it but crawl with gooey, trembling legs onto his lap. Doesn’t feel like you can help it when you lean in and capture his lips with yours, moan unabashedly into his mouth at the stiffness that presses against your core when you do, steal his tongue and the taste of you on it.

When he pulls away he’s looking at you like he doesn’t think you can actually do this. Like you’d just crumble the moment you tried.

A low, determined protest rises in your throat and you’re kissing him again. You’re unbuttoning his dress shirt, you’re trembling to reach for his trousers. 

When you can finally shrug his shirt off, press yourself against him, feel that skin on skin you wanted so badly, you find it somehow even more suffocating than its absence. You’re left wanting a more you aren’t able to even conceptualise, but you’re grinding involuntarily against him and his teeth are scraping your neck and he's hissing at the sensation, and — yes, there’s more.

Your breath is staggered when your hips stutter into a roll and you — fuck. You’re tugging desperately to remove his belt and he smiles against your throat as he takes your hands and guides them to him. You can feel his bulge against your thigh and you’re spreading your legs to usher him where you want, clawing at his chest without even meaning to.

Tom’s taking off his belt, and he’s pulling down his trousers just enough to bare himself to you, and maybe he’s right that you can’t manage it yourself but he stops his assistance like the intrigue of finding out is too good to resist. There's something both intimate and imperious, in a way, about the way he's looking at you now; it's a kind of focus and intensity and withheld hunger just for you; and you're more than happy to give yourself over to it, to let his hands and his eyes and his mouth claim you for his own. To claim him for yours, at last.

You do. You struggle for it. He’s very patient. 

But then it’s there — more — as you finally sink down on him and bite his shoulder and he shudders a low, pained exhale, his hands clutching your waist.

There’s a silent, suspended moment where neither of you move. The room feels entirely still. 

Your lips quiver over his pulse, and your stomach flips at the intensity of it, the undeniable rate of his desire beneath you. You smile against him now, like he always does to you, conscious enough to mumble into his neck, “Mine.”

Tom stutters inside you, fingers gripping you impossible tighter as you dare to think he even gasps. You dare to think he likes it.

And then one of his hands grabs your jaw and his kiss is searing. He thrusts upward and you cry into his mouth, searching to match his pace in a way that you appreciate, for once, he seems unlearned in. 

It’s all a bit messy, a bit new, palms in fists, in skin, in hair, digging for every part they haven’t already taken from. The sound in the back of Tom’s throat is divine, the feeling of him inside you as he slips his hand back between your legs — like he needs everything, like he knows you do too — it’s ineffable. It coils somewhere deep, touches something you didn’t know existed. Your hips are rotating, thighs still soft and slack from coming apart on his tongue, but you’re determined. It feels like finding even ground. It feels like something you deserve: to make him feel how you did.

Your head rolls back, eyes pinching shut in bliss, but Tom is there at your jaw again, forcing your blurry gaze back to him.

His hips are inching even further, the intensity of his pace as he adjusts to you making you dizzy. You think, realistically, there’s sound coming out of you, but you aren’t entirely sure when it’s so close to him, when your mouth is between his fingers and your ears are ringing and he’s looking at you like you’re made for him. 

“Mine.” And it isn’t a dismissal of your own claim but a confirmation that one will not be without the other. His voice is raw and breathy and something about the way he says it makes you contract inadvertently around him, hands swatting his chest like they don’t know what else to do. There’s just too much.

You recognize you’re trying to say something. Some plea, a moan, his name (is there anything else left?), but you’re just babbling into his mouth and he holds you there. He doesn’t kiss you. It’s your failing words against his lips. He swallows whatever syllables try to shape them.

It’s there again when you need it most; the heavy, swirling feeling inside you as he snaps his hips, his fingers returning to your waist with punishing firmness. His breathing accelerates, low in his throat, and you push harder against him. Your vision is gone again, head held in his hands to keep from rolling back so that, you suspect, he can watch defeat split you down the middle again — not over your shoulder, not with his head between your legs — with his eyes on yours, with every broken moan you let out so close to his face he can feel the breath of each one.

You’re grappling desperately at skin that doesn’t feel like enough, even though he’s rocking inside you, and you see the insanity of it, you see that it isn’t logical. Too much and not enough at once — you’re smart enough to know that doesn’t work, but it just is.

“Please,” you manage in a voice you don’t recognize. “Please, Tom, pleasepleaseplease —”

Had you said before it was foolish to call him forgiving? You take it back. He’s very eager to oblige you.

He finds some place inside of you and you don’t know quite what it is that he changes but it's new, uncharted, and you break there. You dissolve. You’re liquid in his hands as you sob, stuttering around him, trembling like you didn’t know was possible, and you swear — you swear you’re going to take him there with you. It isn’t that you could stop yourself if you tried but your body is gripping around him, fingers carving halved spheres into his skin, and you’re pushing down on him through the ecstasy — you’re forcing your eyes open so he can see you break, watch them flutter back all soft and pretty.

And you're sated by your ruin when it ruins him too.

The sound he makes is ragged. Undone. He can only bury it halfway with a kiss you think is actually more of a bite, twitching inside you as he fucks you through it.

You’re both lost in each other for a moment that feels detached from time, feeling his hips stutter to a halt, feeling your body soften. And he’s pulling out of you like it hurts, mouth falling open as he does. You wince at the loss, the sweet soreness between your legs, and you’re held only by the weight of him. You think — and you actually sway like the mere idea is too strong — that if it weren’t for his hands, you’d fall flat off the bed.

But he sort of lifts you off him, lays you down and watches you for a long time as if to decide something important before he's laying down beside you. You watch him too. His fingers brush your hair out of your face, and when there’s not a single curl left clinging to the sweat on your skin, he continues anyway. You let him trace your lips, your jaw, your nose, and somehow, a bit terrifyingly, your final observation: nothing about it feels unusual at all.

You did say he was yours.

[illustromic]

My thoughts on drawing wings (an unofficial tutorial)

Do you want to get better at drawing your favorite winged character? Do you have winged OCs? Just want to learn something new? I can't promise this post will help, but maybe it'll give you some helpful tips.

I know, I knowww, wing tutorials have been done to death. I don't care. This was initially inspired by a conversation on twitter, but actually I've wanted to write down my notes on the topic for a long time lol. Basically wings are one of my special interests so it's very important, for me, to draw them both nicely and also realistically.

On that note, let me first show you my resume *distant sound of floodgates opening*

Like what you see? Read on! (Oh, and I will only be covering feathered/avian wings bc those are the type I know best.)

Now, I'm not here to give you a step-by-step guide on wing anatomy and aerodynamics, because there are plenty of other resources that cover this already, and I'll list my faves at the end of the post. Right now, I'm going to give you some easy guidelines and tricks that I wish more artists knew.

1: Wings do, in fact, have bones (crazy, I know) and are actually very rigid because they have to support the weight of a living creature. There are some positions you cannot physically force a wing into irl.

2: Flight feathers are not placed willy-nilly on the wing, because then they wouldn't catch the air properly. Again, like the bones, they are rigid and strong, so don't draw them like fur or ribbons. All wings have the same pattern of feather placement, with slight variation depending on species. If you learn the feather sections, it will automatically improve your drawings a lot.

2.5: Feathers overlap each other like a handful of playing cards, and this looks different depending on which side of the wing you're drawing. They always do this unless they're extremely untidy.

3: The size of the wingspan is important if you're going for a more realistic design. There is no "scientifically accurate" measurement when it comes to fictional creatures, but my general rule is when in doubt, you probably need to make them bigger. Personally, for my original winged human species, I give them wings that can be up to 12 feet long each (the artistic sacrifice is that it's really hard to fit the wings on the dang page lmao, so make your own call).

4: Get used to drawing folded wings. Most of the time, birds keep their wings folded because it prevents them from getting damaged and it conserves energy. The trick is to get good at visualizing how the joints bend and overlap (look at plenty of photos!) In general, they can fold much tighter than you think.

5: Wings and feathers take a lot of patience to draw, but the results are worth it. I've seen so so many incredibly beautiful and skillful artworks that are---well, maybe not ruined, but still negatively affected by a pair of wings that look like an afterthought, or not even like wings at all. You have no idea how much a little extra time and practice will add to your work until you see for yourself.

Finally, some notes on "stylized" wings: Of course it's perfectly ok to draw more simplified/cartoony wings if that's your preference!! BUT there is a difference between a stylistic choice and a lack of effort/poor understanding of the subject matter. Even cartoonists have to learn the fundamentals of realism so they know how to make their designs logical and appealing. Here are some examples of more stylized wings that I feel retain the core principles of anatomy/aesthetics:

And last but not least: A list of helpful links I use personally for reference and inspiration!

I made this pinterest board for general artsy inspo, and this board to curate my very favorite tutorials/refs/information, focusing on the scientific aspect of wings and flight in general. Feel free to use both! (I also suggest pinterest in general for pose refs and such, but try to only practice using photos at first and not other drawings.)

I highly recommend this blog and this blog if you want examples of artists who draw more realism-based winged creatures!! They are both huge inspirations for me and I think you should totally follow them even if you don't plan to draw wings lol <3

If you're REALLY serious about it, my favorite ref books are: Winged Fantasy, a lovely drawing book by Brenda Lyons; Proctor & Lynch's Manual of Ornithology; and Angelus vincens by R. Spano, which is essentially an artbook by someone who (I believe) designed biologically plausible "angels" for their senior thesis.

Ok, idk how to end this lol but I hope it helped! I know it's not my normal kind of post but I'm super busy with college stuff rn and this was all I had time for. If you guys have any questions or feedback, please let me know!!!

-Aloe <3

[sugugasm]

#2 : SLUT CERTIFIED ! — eren yaeger

꒱ ➛ CHAPTER SYNOPSIS : the first taste of sluttry.

˚◞♡ who ?? : eren yaeger x black fem! reader

˚◞♡ word count : girl…don’t even ask i lost track </3

˚◞♡ chapter warnings : minors DO NOT interact, mentions of female anatomy, fem! reader using she/her pronouns, somewhat bimbo reader ??? mentions of major asshole connie, mentions of player! connie ꒱ i’m sorry ꒱ , use of profanity, oral penetration, body worship, loss of virginity, mentions of reader crying, pet names such as [ mama, baby, angel, love, pretty girl ] detailed, slow-paced smut, a little bit of a cliffhanger bc i LIVE for drama. ˚◞♡ author’s note : we back we back we backkkk !!! hello and welcome to the second chapter :) BUT FIRSTTT !!!! THANK YOU FOR THE POSITIVITY YOUVE GIVEN ME FOR THIS SERIES I LUV U ALL <33 i know i’ve been very absent and i know y’all have been WAITING. i am actually so sorry, but my mental health was calling my name :/ BUT WE ARE DOING BETTER !!! last but not least, excuse any errors, you guys r the best and i hope u enjoy 🤍 reblogs and interactions are always loved and earns u a smooch

eren stayed over that night. not out of fear of waking you, or to avoid alarming you with the sound of your door creaking open, but because he felt pitiful of himself. if he’d left, you’d know something was wrong. he’d rather be petty and silent than obvious and pissy. besides, if he would’ve left, he wouldn’t have been able to wake up to the smell of fresh eggs, grits, and french toast with a simple side of fruits to top it all off.

eren makes his way out of your guest bedroom, nose following the mouth watering scent of food that polluted the air in your home, “goodmorning, rennie,” he hears you announce, still stirring at a pot sitting on your kitchen stove. his eyes wander, looking at the two plates resting on the kitchen island, as well as the two seats that wait for you both to obtain them.

“morning.”

“someone’s grumpy,” you say, watching him untie the bun in his hair and shake it out as if he were a wet dog, “i made some breakfast…if you’re hungry. you don’t have to eat it..but, um..”

“do you have sugar?”

“what-“

“for the grits.”

you awkwardly laugh, a bit put off by his straightforward demeanor, but choosing not to look into it too much. after all, it was 6AM — a sunday too. you didn’t blame him for lacking a bit of a pep in his step.

“o-oh yeah. um, it’s in the pantry, at the top on the left.” eren’s mood was hard for you to abstruse. you couldn’t tell whether he was angry, sleepy, or just being plain old moody, but deep down you’d hoped it was anything other than the first.

“i thought you hated sugar on grits. last time i gave them to you, you said you would never eat my food again,” you jokingly refer, but he only shrugs like before.

“people change.”

you build the courage to start somewhat of a conversation. this was weird. it was like a stranger was just walking around your house. you could usually hear eren making noise before you in the mornings when he chose to stay the night ; showering early, blasting his playlist as loud as he can to wake you, having more of the zoomies than your hyper cat — but now, he just seemed so .. quiet. eerily quiet.

“so, what do you have planned for today?”

he shrugs, “don’t know.”

the answer was simple, but it seemed to have given you more of a worry than a relief, “well, it’s gonna’ be nice out today. i also saw a strawberry field i wanna’ see. ooh! okay so, we can get lunch, go pick the strawberries, and maybe get icecream afte –“

“i have some rules to add.”

rules? oh, rules. the rules you abruptly created out of fear after he’d made you cum with just the simple movement of his fingers, “okay, uh, great. what’d you wanna’ add?” you wait for him to answer, watching him practically inhale the food off of his plate that you’d just placed down only a few minutes ago.

“for starters, we aren’t a couple, so we aren’t doing couple shit,” he begins, and you immediately want him to retract that sentence. you didn’t know why hearing that gave you an intense pain in your heart, but you hated the feeling, “like holdin’ hands, goin’ on dates, etc.”

“but we – we always hold hands, ren.”

“yeah, but you’re with connie. i don’t think that’s appropriate now, do you?”

oh. using your own words against you. how mature of you, eren.

“no, no. you’re right. i um.. i guess i didn’t think about that one.” you couldn’t look at him. you were almost embarrassed to. not only had you been the reasoning for this tension, but you were the one who was behind the master plan. you were the one who asked him to do this. you were the one who blatantly said it was strictly educational.

you were the one who promised yourself you wouldn’t take it further than it needed to go.

eren was just playing the part.

“i’m gonna’ hold off on the nicknames outside of the bedroom too. don’t wanna’ make you uncomfortable so i should leave all that to your boyfriend, don’t you think?” your tongue runs across your lips, unsure exactly what to say. you had no reason to be upset, especially if you were trying to pursue a relationship with connie.

“heard me?” he asks, shoving the last bit of his food into his mouth.

“you’re being a dick.” his ears raise like a hound, a bit taken back by the authoritarian tone of your voice. eren sits and watches you begin to toss the used pots and pans in the sink, not bothering to wash them — which was nothing like you. you’re turned around, back facing him with your hands left to pick at your fingernails.

“how so?”

“you know, eren, i actually think you should get going. i have a lot of errands that i need to get done before our next session so..” eren clears his throat and doesn’t say much else. your words left a bad taste in your mouth and his — you feeling bad and him feeling worse. it wasn’t that you wanted him to leave. if anything, you wanted him to spend the whole day with you, but knowing that the simple physical tendencies were no longer present in your friendship would drive you crazy. you found comfort in one another — whether it was a touch of a hand or a pat on the back, there was nothing else in the world that could bring you the clarity your platonic love resinated.

but that was gone now.

“when you wanna’ start the next —“

“i’ll come over tonight after my last class. that way we can finish this and i’ll be out of your hair soon enough, like you want.” your demure smile said everything you needed to. eren could read you like a book. he’d obviously agitated you with his petty choice of words, but it didn’t make sense of why. you were the one who wanted rules to begin with, and as of right now, eren could already feel a lump beginning to swell in his throat, “alright then. just hit me when you need me,” he forces out, getting up to grab his things.

you don’t reply, you only watch him leave.

“love you.”

your silence was enough to make him head to the door quicker. he waits a moment by the exit, out of your sight, but sticking around to hear you say it back.

but you don’t.

in fact, you don’t say a single word, at least not until he leaves and is already inches away from your home, unable to hear the slight sorrow in your voice as you wipe away a small tear, “love you too, fuckin’ asshole ..”

after eren’s departure, the house was more silent than it was when he was here. yeah, you technically kicked him out, but if you knew the heartache you’d get from it, you easily would’ve chosen the silently petty route just like he did. you were left to contemplate bout what you could’ve said and done differently, what you could’ve accomplished if you’d just been more patient with him. but then again — eren was cold to you this morning. he seemed to have let his emotions get in the pathway, causing him too to make choices he wouldn’t usually make.

and that’s why you felt the need to see connie. the connie who was the root of of the argument that ruined your monring, the connie who you’d grown so fond of. he was also the same the connie who had showed up to your home rather later than expected though. when you texted him a few hours prior to your class ending, he’d said he could be at your doorstep in ten, but ten turned to twenty, and twenty turned into an hour.

and soon, that hour became three.

you assumed he’d probably gotten caught up at work again ; one of the main enemies in your relationship besides eren. his boss seemed to always be holding him back longer, regardless if his shift was scheduled to end hours prior. it made no sense, but like he always said, ‘more money i make, the more i get to treat you like the princess you are’ — but anyway, you couldn’t exactly hate him for it.

how else would he be able to buy you those cute little pandora charms and pretty mini skirts?

you’re drifted from your thoughts as a notification illuminates your screen and you happily skip toward the front entrance of your home without even having to check to see who it is. connie — standing tall at your doorstep with a pretty bouquet of roses resting in his arm. the diamonds in his studded earrings gleaming in your gaze. his hair was buzzed a bit lower than it was the last time you saw him — now dyed with hearted patterns all around.

he looked good, as always.

“hi, pretty girl,” he greets you cheerfully as if he hadn’t just showed up almost three and a half hours late. you sit there with your arms folded, giving him that same glare you always do when he did these things.

“i know i’m late, baby. i’m sorry! y’know how it is. i just got caught up —“

“at work.” he gives you a sad smile, pinching your cheek and puckering his lips for you to give him a kiss. of course you give in, allowing his lips to press against yours in a quick peck ; which eventually leads to him backing you into through your door and shutting it behind him. his lips felt different — swollen almost, like he’d been kissing someone prior.

“new lipgloss, huh? i like the taste.”

before it could get too heated, your manicured hands find their way to his chest, stopping him before he could move any further, “heyhey, not so fast mr. ‘m still kinda mad at you y’know,” you say, running a finger down his shirt all the way to the hem.

connie kisses his teeth, rolling his eyes a bit, “here the fuck we go again,” he walks away before you can even begin to voice the remainder of your frustration.

“don’t be like that. you’re the one who can’t seem to say no to your manager. you don’t have to work overtime every fucking time she asks, y’know.”

here we go again indeed. he’d only gotten here no less than ten minutes ago, and you both could already find yourselves wanting to be apart, “i have bills to pay. working overtime isn’t gonna’ kill anybody.”

“well it’s killing me! i barely see you anymore, con,” your lips form a frown, connie shaking his head in response.

“and what, that’s all my fault? you’re always at school, or studying, or playin’ footsies with eren every weekend. i should be the one doing all the scolding.”

your eyes widen, tears threatening to spill from them as you swallow deeply, “get out.”

damn, yn. second man you’ve kicked out today in a row. look at you doing god’s work.

“what?”

“i said get out. i don’t wanna’ see you.” you don’t even dare to look his way, too angered and confused to do so. connie doesn’t even try to put up a fight. he immediately starts to grab his keys, almost as if he were waiting for those words to leave your mouth.

“y’know what, cool. talk to me when you’re done with your little tantrum. i don’t have the patience for this shit today.” those last few words spit fire straight into your chest. his words hurt, but seeing him walk out of that door and slamming it behind him without a care in the world hurt worse. the only thing playing in your mind was the painful scene over and over again. the tears that you had managed to suppress earlier had begun to resurface, your vision becoming blurry and the lump in your throat swelling harder than it ever has.

connie had never spoken to you like that before — the lack of giving a fuck very present in his tone of voice. you felt horrible, and confused, and almost regretful about letting him into your home to begin with. this wasn’t the man who was treating to dinner on a rooftop after your hard day all those months ago, neither was this the man who gifted you not one, but two promise rings for your birthday, or the man who you couldn’t stop bragging to your mother about.

this was someone else.

there was a tear in your heart, and fighting this alone would only cut it further. it’s funny, it’s like even when you’re angry at eren you can’t help but to think of him. you can’t help but to vision how badly he would’ve beat connie’s tail if he heard the same words you did.

so, you decide to shamefully push your pride to the side, heading to eren’s earlier than expected — and of course, when you arrive at his doorstep with watery eyes and a puffy nose, his disgruntled expression softens within seconds. you didn’t have to say much, or anything at all really. the faint sounds of sniffles coming from you were explanatory enough. no matter what had happened this morning, or what might’ve been said and done — he was still your best friend. at the end of the day, seeing you smile was the only thing that really kept him going in this life. right or wrong, argument or not, he was there, and he always would be.

anytime, any place.

“you wanna’ tell me what, happened? hm,” his soft voice rumbles, a hand burying your face into the warmth of his chest as you let the tears fall and stain eren’s t-shirt, “it was him wasn’t it?”

the two of you hadn’t yet moved inside. you still stand in the middle of your doorway, rocking from side to side as you let eren ramble on with his theories, “hm? what’d he do to you?”

you cut him off, shaking your head from side to side as you wipe your face, “c-connie and i .. w-we had an argument .. “ you hiccup, incapable of even getting the words out. he knew that. that’s why he continues to comfort you, even with the rush of hearing the devil’s name leave your lips and the amount of anger surfacing to the shore in his mind, your waterworks are the most important right now.

but trust, if he could leave and beat connie’s ass to a pulp he would, but to abandon you in this state would be criminal.

“what’s been goin’ on?”

“it’s a long story.”

“i got all night, love.”

eren was right. he did in fact have all night, and you’d taken that opportunity to tell him everything — connie’s lack of attention, his inability to care, the amount of stupidity you’ve felt for the last few weeks ; he listens closely to every detail, only responding with minimal to no noise as connie clouds his consciousness. eren couldn’t fathom how someone as sweet, kind, and genuine as you could be put through such pain like this. all you’ve ever done is give and give and give, and knowing an insensitive bastard could fuck all of that up for you made his blood boil.

“i just don’t get it, y’know. i-i mean he was so sweet to me when i met him. always wanting to be around me, making the effort to see me — i just don’t know w-what changed,” you express, fingers swiping away the tears that stained your puffy cheeks and swollen doe eyes.

he expresses his concern with just a simple huff, chewing on his bottom lip as he waits for you to finish your sentence. eren knew the answer. it was as easy as two plus two, but explaining it to someone as attached to connie as you would be almost impossible to persuade you to believe the truth — which was that he was just no good for you. eren wished — no, he dreamt you didn’t see his constructive criticism as jealousy, but then again, it was easy to portray it that way.

“he’s always been this way, yn — inconsiderate. he’s just gotten better at keeping it hidden longer.”

eren was expecting some sort of defense to come out of your mouth, but you don’t give it to him. instead, you obtain the somber expression of gloom casting over your usual sunny skied face.

as much as he wanted to tell you the blatant truth, eren quickly remembered that the power of words were truly bigger than man, “look, y’know how i feel about the guy, but if you really truly want my advice — from a friend’s perspective, i say you start lookin’ out for you. i know you like him n’ all, but you gotta’ start caring about your well being more. he’s putting you through hell right now and he doesn’t even have the decency to check on you.”

you nod because, well, it was true. eren was completely in the right. it was always about connie and moving on his time, but in reality, a relationship can’t ever even begin to work when both parties aren’t putting forth the effort. like the famous truth, ‘if he wanted to, he would’ but that was the thing with connie. there was no sense of want in this relationship unless it was coming from you. it was a hard pill to swallow, but these past five months with him had been purely carried by your energy and your energy alone.

if anything, it was a miracle he’d been around this long.

“i just don’t understand what i did wrong ..”

his blood boils all over again, a sheer amount of red on his flushed ears as eren can already feel himself becoming angry for the second time tonight. wrong? what you did wrong? how dare he — how dare he make you think so poorly about yourself? was connie insane — seriously, eren had to genuinely think. a woman having to second guess herself in general was horrid, but you? the woman he’s carefully watched sprout into a vivid, forever blooming flower since the small age of 9? the same woman who deserved the world in the palm of her hands?

nah, no way.

“don’t piss me off. for real, don’t.”

“m’ not trying to .. just think maybe i —“

“you really wanna’ sit in front of me and speak ill on yourself like you aren’t one of the most beautiful women i’ve ever laid my eyes on? and m’ not even talkin’ just physically — fuck that. m’ talkin’ spiritually, mentally — you don’t even realize your worth, mama.”

you let out a mix of a laugh and a scoff, “you really think that about me?” eren dramatically throws his head back, and places his hand on his chest, causing you to smile for the first time in a few hours.

“think? you serious? i know what i’m saying. he’d be a fuckin’ imbecile to lose you.” you don’t dare to stop his tangent, especially after hearing what’s to come out of his mouth next, “you’re sweet, you’re intelligent, charismatic, and prettier than you’ll ever begin to know. you’re ...” he stops himself, picking at the black polish on his fingernails, “perfect.”

you both look at one another, both of your eyes meeting at the same point as your breathing patterns become unsteady, the thickness of the air starting to become rather suffocating. eren’s words were delivered with such ease, and it wasn’t even in his usual, corny smooth talking manner. you could tell how much he’d regretted letting that sentence exit his brain though. his head was held downward, a scene of his chest rising and falling as the regret began to evolve into worry.

“you’re so sweet to me. ‘like you have a crush on me or somethin’.” your joke flies right over your head, because well, you knew damn well that would be one of the craziest things reality could throw at you. eren on the other hand, only lets out a forced laugh, playfully shoving your arm.

“mmch. whatever, mutherfucker.”

once your laugh diles down, there’s a comfortable silence in the room before you clear your throat and address the elephant in the room — the elephant that's been sitting quietly in the corner but had been aggressively knocking at the door in your mind over and over again for the last ten hours.

“eren..”

he turns to you again, those pretty eyes finding their focus in yours, “hm?”

“i’m sorry about this morning .. i should’nt have y’know .. kicked you out.”

“nah, it’s nothin.’ i know we just gotta’ get used to this whole thing. i should’ve just respected your rul —“

“but i kissed you back last night,” you interject, “i just…reacted badly, and i- i didn’t know how to respond to that. we’ve never been ...”

“that close before.” you’re eyes meet his once he finishes your sentence for you. eren’s were low, but still pleading as if he was waiting for the next few words that were scheduled to leave your mouth any moment now. yours were reddened — probably from the enormous amount of tears you’d shed throughout the time of connie’s departure, but also from the fact that you hadn’t blinked in a few seconds, not wanting to miss a single second of the sight of him in front of you.

“i’m still curious, y’know … i haven’t been the best student, but i’m still willing to learn some more.”

“i’ll do whatever you want me to do. just say the word.” his mouth was held open long enough to catch flies, and his steady breaths were morphing into a soft hyperventilation. you don’t say a word. neither does he. you both just send each other that look — the same look that was shared when he was on his knees devouring you not too long ago.

you take usage in his words, “i … i want you to kiss me, eren.” you’re scared to move. not only because of the amount of anxiety running through your body right now, but from eren’s physical reaction. he looked like he’d seen a ghost.

“but last night you said –“

“i know what i said.”

he tilts his head, eyes not leaving your lips as the rush of kissing them begins to come back to him. he missed it. he missed it so much, and god, what he would give to feel them again, “lemme’ hear you again.”

“i-i want you to kiss me,” you repeat, and you take notice of the look on his face. his eyebrows were furrowed, nose almost as close to yours as it was the night before, “please kiss me, eren.”

“again,” he instructs, and you do. you keep repeating those words until his nose is brushing against yours, along with your foreheads pressed against one another’s — both too scared to find yourselves as desperate for each other as you were last night. eren hears your whispers, the sound of your sweet voice begging him to kiss you making his heart feel all the more swollen.

“can i?”

instead of answering his question with a sentence, you answer it with the thing you’d been wishing to do for the past twenty four hours — you kiss him, and you kiss him gently. your lips felt like dainty feathers tickling his own as your hands found their way to either side of his face. eren doesn’t question you, because he too was feeling the sparks flying over his head just like the first time. he still had his arms resting on the back of the couch, not yet touching you in fear of crossing the line — although, there were about to be many lines crossed tonight, that was only one many that he needed to be worrying about.

you want to feel him, you want him to feel you, and you start to whimper when you notice him pull away for a split second, but you go quiet when he pulls you into his lap by your waist. you fit so perfectly in his grasp, his hands firmly gripping your love handles while you try your best not to hunch your body against his.

but that was becoming impossible.

his cock was right underneath you, hard and clothed — his deep denim jeans poking at your ass as you sit. you hadn’t yet resumed kissing, but this was far more enjoyable. eren’s hands rest on your thighs and the moment he feels you drag your clothed cunt along his lap, he groans — loudly, too.

the shorts you had on were thin enough for eren to feel your folds rubbing on him, and your missing underwear underneath didn’t do him any justice. he was trying hard – so fucking hard not to completely forget that he needed to take his time with you. there was only one thing stopping eren from pulling his dick out and fucking up into you like his life depended on it, and that was the fact that you were new to all of this.

the same realizations from before boggle his mind again, “please tell me what you want from me, yn. you’re drivin’ me fuckin’ crazy right now.” ashamed, eren shuts his eyes at the sound of his own desperation, yet you were equally as desperate as he was. both of you were fighting the urge from tearing one another apart – your reasoning being the fear of feeling those butterflies tumble around in your tummy again. it was wrong. you weren’t supposed to get those around him. he was just eren – your longtime, bittersweet, lovable bestfriend. you shouldn’t have wanted him in this way.

but you did, and you still do. and there was nothing in sight that could change that.

“i want you inside me..”

that’s when you felt a thump underneath you. you lightly gasp, surprised at the feeling but also aroused. something kicks inside of you, and you kiss him — yet again. eren almost immediately gives in this time, refusing to feed into his hesitation as previous. the kiss is messy and the motion is quick, but your hips – oh those hips, were moving slowly.

“you have no clue what you do to me.”

you nip at his lips again, “show me. what do i do, eren?” you keep winding your hips as you continue to taunt him with your lust filled eyes. your back arches and your globes poke out just a bit, the middle of your shorts pushing against your clit, “i can feel you. you’re so hard.. i-is all of that from me?”

that last line most definitely was your confidence talking, and although those jitters were still present, the power of your body taking over you.

“hold on to me.”

eren abruptly starts to rise up, and with you in his arms, he carries you down the corridor to his bedroom, which is on the right. as soon as you proceed in, you notice the distinct smell of his musk and a tiny candle burning in the corner of his bookshelf. your back touches his black, satin sheets as he lays you on the bed, making you shudder due to their chilly temperature.

eren continues to place small kisses all over your legs. you hadn’t yet seen his face since he laid you down, given how eager he was for his lips to be on your skin again, he was practically swimming in your aura, “you are so beautiful …” he mumbles, kissing your calf and up to your ankle. eren then gathers both of your legs, pulling you forward enough to where your ass was hanging halfway off of the mattress as your upper half lays prettily before him.

there he is, on his knees for you yet again.

“i can’t believe it get to touch you like this,” you close your eyes feeling his lips press against the pudge just above your pussy, too easily flustered to even dare look at him, “in all of your glory … bare just for me to see.” his lashes bat in a daze, a breathy laugh leaving his lips when he sees your hips squirm under his contact. you were so worked up, such an easy button to push — but time, time is what this would take.

“e-eren, you’re teasing …”

“am i? or are you too nervous to tell me what you want so much that you’re willin’ to sit there and let me frustrate you like this?” his pixelated eyes hold a menacing glare with yours, but you’re too busy trying to fix your gaze upon anything other than him. the way he was taunting you during your first time was sickening, stimulatingly sickening.

“i want you …”

“what was that?”

“ ‘want you eren, fuck! just do something already!”

eren releases a chuckle and pats your thigh twice, “that’s my girl.” after he says this he wastes no more time diving in. eren starts off with a wife tongue lick to your cunt, beginning at your ass, then slowly licking his way up to your clit before wrapping both lips around the swollen area. he had yet to tie his hair back, so to your advantage, your hands run through his coffee locks. you pull and scratch, making him grumble against you with pleasure.

you hate to admit that you missed the glee you got from feeling him lick you. but something so wrong felt so fucking right. it didn’t help that eren was practically a god when it came to eating pussy. he was treating you as if you weren’t still new to the feeling, but you loved it. you craved it. you needed it.

“t-that feels so fuckin’ g-good, ren- ohh!” your hips move in sync with his mouth, rubbing your cunt against his face as he follows your path, “waitwait – oh fuck!” you’re losing it, and you’re starting to lose your patience along with that sanity. he was slurping, kissing, licking and penetrating your pussy with his tongue and he had no remorse while doing so.

“awe, baby, you’re so wet … all that from me?” he mocks your previous words with a smirk, and that’s when eren slips a finger in without warning, and to be honest, there was no need to. if anything, you needed to be warning him for the messy orgasm you were tiptoeing around, “you get so tight when i use my hands, don’t you? so cute .. think you’re bout’ to cum for me already.”

“yesss! yes, i wan’ cum. i wanna’ cu-f-fuck,” his fingers tickle your gummy walls along with the impact from the tip of his tongue flicking against your clit — creating the perfect combination for nothing but pure bliss, “don’t make me beg for it, angel. just let go for me. give me all of it ..” his encouragement was doing its damn thing — the knot in your belly starting to untie itself on eren’s behalf. your body begins to convulse, jolting around and twisting all the which of ways he hoped it would.

“b-baby .. eren … i’m fucking c-cummingugh – oh!” eren quickly intertwined his hand in yours as you squeeze his knuckles for support through your life changing orgasm. you were too busy making the flesh on his hand turn pale from how hard you were holding on to notice the pet name that casually came out of you.

“yeah .. yeah, let it go just like that ...”

as he says this, you start to panic when you feel the certain pressure of your bladder being full. his finger is still working your hole, not pulling away for anything or anyone — not even you. eren sees your small hands trying to pry his own away, but he simply stops you by restraining the same hand pushing him, “r-ren, i don’t- i don’t know what’s — please, oh my ..” you babble.

“i know, baby. i know.” he holds eye contact with you, feeling your walls begin to tighten around his fingers yet again. that’s when he moves faster, jabbing his finger in and smoothly adding another to completely rupture you. his hand was cramping, but he could take that on any day if it meant he’d be able to see you fall apart, “you’re there. you’re right there, you feel that?”

eren’s question not only earns a loud whine from you, but it finishes you off completely. so much so that you couldn’t even pronounce a single word. the only thing you could begin to make out was his name, and even then, it was just hoarse whines and sappy gibberish. you don’t see it, but he does. he sees it all — the spurts of your cum covering his hand, the way your chest rose and fell with each unsteady breath, your eyes looking into the back of your skull with your lips parted softly — you were fucking breathtaking.

“good fuckin’ girl,” eren huffs, dragging his fingers from out of your walls. as soon as he does, he gently pets your pussy, soothing the sore area with his hand as he uses the weight of one elbow to lean over and place kisses onto your temple. your body is still coming down from its peak, and your vision was still foggy — but you still needed him. you still craved his touch like you had a sweet tooth.

“you okay? didn’t hurt you did i?”

“n-no. more, ren, i just wan’ more …” your pleading eyes search for his lips, and once you find them, you inch closer by default. eren seals it for you, pressing his plumped ones onto your own. you feel the same fingers that were inside you creep up to your chin, then lips — trails of your wet essence lingering on your skin, “are you sure, yn?”

you bite your lower lip and nod slowly, running your hand up and down his bare chest, “ ‘m sure .. please — i wanna’ feel you.” there’s one more peck shared before he gets up. rising to his 6’4 frame, hovering over your resting body as his hands scramble to remove his belt. one loop after another, your heart rate induces, seeing the v-line that threatened to spill from his pants as he finally reaches the buttons on those suffocating jeans and you’re forced to finally take in his physique while you wait.

you knew eren was built. he always had been, but ever since he’d taken on the job as a mechanic, you could see him gradually grow stronger over time. all of that heavy lifting and damn near bending over backwards to fix outdated and damaged vehicles good as new was a tough job, but he made it look so easy. it wasn’t until now that you could actually get a good look at him. he’d abandoned that coltish, leaned look back in highschool, now carrying the weight of broad shoulders and a barrel chested front. you couldn’t help but to stare, especially with him having abs sharp enough to be a blade.

“stop eye-fuckin’ me. you’re making me nervous,” eren shyly grins as he continues to strip off his clothes. what you weren't anticipating was the sizable cock that was about to emerge from his black hannes boxers in a matter of seconds. you watch as eren’s thumbs gently pull the cloth of the waistband over the broad girth that sits inside of his underwear. when he’s finally freed, you can hear him lightly hiss, and his dick practically springs out like a door hinge against a wall. it was thick, inches galore, and hard as fuck by the looks of it. your eyes follow the blueish greenish veins petruding from the base of him all the way up to the rosey, strained tip. it looked so soft at the touch, so pent up, so … edible.

you watch as he moves over to his nightstand, snagging one of the condoms from it and ripping it open with his teeth. as soon as you see him lower his hands to his cock, you stop him, “can- can i put it on?” he pauses his movements, a bit taken back by your question but not exactly opposed to it — the thought of your soft hands coming into contact with his dick was a vision he’d give anything to see.

“yes-yeah, go for it,” he nods, handing it off, stepping closer into your vicinity to make it easier for you, “do you know how to put it o – aw .. f-fuck waitwaitwait -“ eren didn’t need to finish his sentence, because once your cold fingers wrapped around his base he was in heaven. your grasp was so light, but the feeling of your hand on him felt so heavy. it was taking everything he had not to cum from the act of your touch alone.

you, on the other hand, were in awe, taking the rubber in one hand, holding his frustrated dick in the other while you ease the material around his shape. eren let’s go of a small groan, throwing his head back as his belly pokes forward and back in at the pace of his breathing.

you were amazed.

“oh my god ..”

so amazed that you didn’t mean to say that aloud, “what? what’s wrong?”

“nothing .. you’re just … big.”

he shyly, and nervously laughs, “what, don’t think it’ll fit?” if you were speaking by just the looks of it — no, it didn’t look like it’d fit. you were a virgin for crying out loud, that thing looked like a fucking weapon.

“hmm, m’ a brave girl i’ll be fine. i promise. i would tell you if i wasn’t,” you ease. eren nods, looking down at you as you blink your pretty falsies up at him with a smile on your face, “now hurry before i dry out.”

he shakes his head and laughs at your attempt at humoring the mood, but that laugh fades once you spread your legs for him again. eren looks down at you, looking at your sprawled out figure in awe. you still had your shirt on. no bra, so simple to see your hardened nipples through your baby pink tee. you looked so pretty, so needy, and so ready to take him like this wasn’t your first time around.

“i know you’re excited, but please, yn, tell me if i’m making you uncomfortable or if m’ hurtin you. i don’t care if it’s the smallest touch, please. tell. me.”

“mkay.”

“yn, for real. if you aren’t comfortable, punch me or pinch me or someth —“ ”

the amount of concern in his tone humors you, giggling a bit as you say, “i know, eren. i said okay,” he gives you his eyes once more before beginning to climb on top of you, your thigh being skimmed by the tip of his cock as he places both of his arms on either side of your head. he’s so close now. not on his knees, or beside you, or somewhere in front of you — no, he was right here. face to face so much so that his shaky breaths trickle your nose as he tries his best to keep his breathing steady.

eren balances back on his knees as he grabs ahold of his cock, tugging at it a little so that precum coats his tip and fingers as lubricant. you were already wet, but he needed to make this somewhat easy — he had to, for your sake and his. hurting you just wasn’t something he had on his agenda. so he takes the extra mile to make sure — a glob of saliva falling from his mouth and onto his condom covered base as he strokes it.

“f-fuck …” he moans, swallowing as his thumb runs over the pumping vein just before his tip, and once he’s done prepping himself, he sits his cock directly onto your belly — the tip of it stopping just at your shimmery-pierced bellybutton. he shakes his head from side to side, gassed at the knowledge of knowing how deep he’d be inside of you, “ima’ slide it in, okay?”

you nod at his words, and when you do, you wrap your arms around his neck, “deep breaths. take deep breaths for me.” you hear him, and you do what he tells you, inhaling and exhaling as you feel eren’s cock sit right at your folds, “i’ll give you just the tip for right now, okay ..” a whine gets caught in your throat as he rubs himself in between them, your wetness making a pretty sound that fills his ears with lust. he even taps it on the surface a little bit, a small ‘pat pat’ — testing the waters, seeing just how arroused you’d gotten from him and only him.

“m’ gonna take care of you, i promise.”

“you always do, ren.”

he kisses your temple, then your cheek and nose, “you ready?”

your chest rises and falls with one last deep breath, your head falling back onto the pillow behind you, “ready.”

eren hears your consent and it slowly begins — the first attempt at easing himself past that first barrier with as much care as he could. your body flinches and you whince, and almost immediately eren starts to remove himself from your entrance, but you stop him, “ ‘m okay, ren, ‘m okay. just feels so ..”

“different?”

“yeah .. d-different,” he looks at you for approval again and you give it to him, your eyes dropping down to look in between your legs as you see that you still have so much more to go. this was just the tip, and even then, it still wasn’t all the way in. how difficult would it be to take the full thing? no matter how soft his strokes were or how painless he could try and make the process be, eren was huge — and with a curve too. you’d be lucky if you got out of this without a limp tomorrow morning.

“we can take it slow, okay? don’t strain yourself, just take me slow … ” when his palm touches the side of your face, his thumb brushing your bottom lip, you almost immediately feel a tiny bit of relief. you nod and you sense him once more, his tip piercing your skin and leaving a sting in its wake. it was a painful stretch, no doubt about it. out of every account you've heard of losing your virginity, you can infer that after this point, everything really just depended on that individual person. you’d heard mixed opinions, and you’d always assumed the worst. but honestly, in this moment, you could only come to the conclusion that it all depended on the sensual nature of you and your partner’s relationship.

yes, you were in pain, but you were so drawn to eren that you wanted to push through it. “a-aah- oh my— fuck!” your eyes are shut so tightly that you start to see white spots in the inside of your eyelids. you feel eren’s hand reach down to your clit, trying to steer the uncomfortable stretch away from you by rubbing small, kind circles repeatedly as you huff and let out strangled whines.

“you okay? you wan’ me to stop?”

you shake your head, “nonono — just .. h-hurts ren.” he feels your nails clawing at his forearms. you, on the other hand, not even realizing your fingers were leaving deep crescent marks on his flesh. he didn’t mind it though, not at all. in fact —

“bite me. scratch me — do whatever you need to do, baby ..” eren’s forehead was already beginning to perspire as he spoke, and his hips were carefully advancing to slowly deliver you every inch — although, he was rather heartbroken to witness your reactions, “i just need you to feel good.” your pain was almost too much for him, almost enough to make him want to call this whole thing off, but on your word, he continues. he continues to watch your every move as your eyes sit on the verge of watering whilst his cock softly splits you in half. you heed his advise, lifting your neck a little for you to bite down on his shoulder and leave marks in your wake.

he continues to guide himself in while his palm rests on the back of your head, pulling you in closer into his neck as he whispers into your ear, “just a little more to go, my love. you’re almost – shit – there.”

“r-ren … nnn – f-fuck!”

“i know, sweet girl. i know.”

he kisses you to divert your attention away while the stray tears on your face fall to your lips, the tang of salt hitting both of your taste buds. you push through the pain and let him give you a little bit more. before you bottle up your next set of cries — he’s fully in, and when he is, you can see the small bulge in your belly from his cock when you look down. eren patiently allows himself to sit deeply in your warmth, letting your whimpers simmer down as you become more and more used to the full feeling in your tummy, “there you go. nice n’ slow, let it sink in just l-like that …” your mouth is held open, and the only sounds that can be heard from you were small gasps of relief from finally getting the hard part over with.

“well would you look at that? you did it, s-see?” he shudders, mainly speaking to you, but also patting himself on the back for not cumming within the first ten seconds of being inside you.

“i-i did, didn’t i?” your hand hovers over the spot on your stomach, rubbing the area where you feel him most. he watches you closely, he too, stunned from reality hitting him right in the chest like a wrecking ball, “s-shit, eren … ‘s so deep.”

eren jeager was inside you.

and eren jaeger was about to fuck the shit out of you.

“does everything feel okay? didn’t hurt you too much did i?” you shake your head, taking in a deep breath as you close your eyes, “you still with me, yn?”

“yesyes, ‘m here.” eren takes this as an opportunity to wipe your tears with his thumbs, sending a quick kiss to your lips while smiling. you’d gotten through the hard part, and now? now it was time for the highly anticipated fun, “y-you can start moving now …” eren hears your voice softly say. he gives you that look you knew rather well — that look of ‘are you sure’ knowing damn well you were more sure than you’ve ever been about anything before. you gladly give it to him, cheekily grinning a bit as you nod your head up and down.

eren gradually sits up on his knees, palming the backs of your thighs softly as he peers down at your figure under him, still snugged comfortably inside of you. he was plainly freaking out and, to put it mildly, astonished. when his eyes met yours, that’s when the air felt heavier than it already was, along with the same feeling of fluttering butterflies in his tummy dancing along to the beat of his racing heart.

he begins to move in the direction and pace you want, slowly pulling his cock in and out of you, scared of hurting you still even after hearing you repeat ‘im okay’ to him over and over again. you attentively observe his furrowed eyebrows and bitten lip, and the sight causes your walls to swell and pulse. the ache that had almost felt intolerable a few minutes ago had begun to eventually subside, leaving you simply with a tickling sensation now.

“god .. yn - fuck..” he pants, steadily swinging his pelvis straight into the back of your thighs as his balls slap lightly against your ass, “pussy’s s-so tight, mama ..” he wasn’t lying at all. in fact, you were squeezing him so tightly that he had to use enough force to pull himself out of you. he hisses, feeling the wind get knocked out of his chest by just looking at how well you were doing. he was so proud of you, filled with so much elation while being inside of you that it almost felt like a dream he would’ve never thought would come to life.

“ ‘ssss .. it feels — eren … please —”

“feels like what, hm? tell me all about it ..” the tone of eren’s voice is soft enough to soothe you some more, but deep enough to bring you to unintentionally clench around him. your warm walls smothering his cock, and your eyes watching him move in and out of you as your chest heaves.

“feel s’ full,” you babble and he hissed out a laugh. that’s when you spread your legs wider, feeling comfortable enough to get into the hang of it. although you were new to this, you found yourself suddenly wanting more.

“mhm, pussy’s eatin’ my fuckin’ dick up, isn’t she? you feel so goddamn good …” eren keeps his steady pace, delivering deep, slow, strokes to your cunt before sitting up to lightly massage your calves and feet. he keeps eye contact with you, and even though yours refuse to keep their focus on his, he doesn’t stop. he doesn’t stop losing himself in both you and your battered pussy, squeaking with every dirty line leaving his lips. your arms reach out to wrap themselves around his neck, and he easily picks up on your gesture — now hovering directly on top of you, balancing himself on one forearm while his opposite hand grips at the headboard above you — minimizing the weight of his body on yours.

“sh-shit — ouuu, eren!”

for a moment, there’s only silence in the room. besides your minimal breathing and eren’s small groans that he failed to suppress were the only sounds that could be heard through an echo. both of you bask in one another’s presence while you let the tranquility of the moment steer you of to sea. “h-harder, ren .. please, harder,” you lightly tap his shoulder with your fingers to gather his attention, eyes batting rapidly as you try to keep consciousness from the amount of pleasure you were feeling.

“harder? baby, you look like you can barely keep your eyes open,” he laughs attentively, looking down at the droplets of sweat beginning to fall down the sides of your face. yeah, he was right, you could barely open your eyes, but you had enough strength to flutter them and give him an annoyed, yet needy, glance.

a soft sigh escapes his lips and that’s when he seizes your request, pushing his cock further into you — as deep as it could go and then right back out again, a suckle being left behind. you whine — no, you scream, “oouh - fuck, eren, just like t-that,” almost loud enough to send a concerned expression to eren’s face, but when you claw at his biceps he soon realizes it was a scream of pure ecstasy.

“ah, shit. yeahyeahyeah, talk to me, baby. you’re takin’ it so fucking good ..” his tone is taunting and well past just casual dirty talk. he was digging deep, verbally and physically, saying shit just to bring a reaction out of you — curious of what he could say and do to make you squirm and sniffle around him, “greedy lil’ pussy. takin’ me in so easily on her first run — you’re bein’ so good to me, princess.”

“ren — oh my god … r-right there, right there, right there — shit, eren!” his words had gone right over your head. too lost in the the way he dips his hips deep into your core to even dare to speak anything more than a string of moans. your lips form a pout, and your eyes roll to the back of your head when you suddenly feel eren’s tip poking right at your g-spot — which, he proudly didn’t take very long to discover. you didn’t know it yet, but the constant pressure against your womb would be building up soon — creating a rather diabolical sensation for both your mind and body all in one.

“where? right here?” the question is followed by a strong, but still conscious thrust. slow, yet powerful. steady, but mighty — eren now driving himself into you right where you wanted him, “awe, baby, did i find your spot? like when my dick kisses you right here, don’t you?” you can’t speak, nor can you begin to fathom why on earth eren was making you feel so lightheaded. disregarding the pleasure and the present circumstances, you felt alive. you felt like you couldn’t get this amount of euphoria from anything or anyone.

it wasn’t just the movement of his hips, or the nasty serenading words leaving his mouth, or even those angelic eyes that held an untold story — no no, it was the amount of emotion he brought you. the amount of love he’s shown you. the way he held you with such grace and tenderness like you were easy to shatter. it was all too surreal. the feeling, the gestures, the warmth — everything .. he was everything.

“faster! faster, please eren — nnnn y- you’re so deep ..” you clench around him, your pussy sucking him in more and more as he continues to drive you into shambles. your eyes travel down, focusing on the way he had to pull in and out of you with more force than needed simply because of how hard you were squeezing him. with each passing thrust, you could see his tip poking at your tummy over and over, forming a bulge right below your belly button.

“aah, shhhit, gonna’ make me fuckin’ cum, b-baby.” he nervously snickers, trying to hold on as much as a could, and god was it hard. eren could almost find himself becoming overwhelmed. there were too many things to focus on — between your expressions, lustrous eyes, and small grunts — he could cum right then as he spoke.

“o-oh, so close .. c-close, m’ so close rennie .. please let m-me cum with you ..”

you have a siren voice, one of command and alluring undertones like you were singing a symphony to pull anyone into a trance — and that’s exactly what you did. you words had much power, and eren suddenly feels a knot untying in his belly, the same knot as you. you both huff and puff, whispering small praises to one another like you’ve been in love for ages now.

your hands reach the sides of his face, carefully pulling him in closer for a kiss. you feel him meet you half way, closing the space between you both by kissing you like you were an an antidote he so desperately needed. he tugs on your bottom lip softly, closing his eyes and melting into you as he tries his hardest to bring you both to the finish line.

“c’mon, baby, c’mon. cum with me — cum all over this dick,” eren unconsciously fastens his hips, sending strong, and now sloppy, thrusts to you. you feel him deep, deep in your stomach. so much that you feel the urge to push against his toned tummy due to the overwhelming power he had over your body, “nah, don’t run. t-take it just how you were. i know you wanna’ let it go ..”

“eren .. i’m cumming, baby … i’m cumming — oh god …” your eyes slam shut and your swollen clit is caught by eren’s thumb as he rubs circles over the agitated flesh. the wet squelching sound of your cunt was almost loud enough to drown out your moans as you find yourself shakily wetting up eren’s dick, “renrenren, wai — unngh!” your legs stutter closed and he opens them right back up, only this time, grabbing onto your hips and fucking you at an angle to carry you all the way to the end.

you push your head back deep into the plushed pillow underneath your neck, bawling your fists as the commotion in your stomach is finally fulfilled. there are tears in your eyes, followed by desire and pleasure — not to mention the creamy noise of your pussy sucking in eren’s dick with no problem, “y-yyes .. yesyesyes — erennn!”

he’s quiet — or rather focused, concentrating on your trembling figure while feeling his own orgasm begin to pool over rapidly, “fuckin’ christ,” he groans hoarsely, his hips bucking as he’s cumming deep into the condom that would soon threaten to burst from the amount of essence he would let go. eren’s body nearly smothers your own as he loses his balance, hugging you close as he finishes. he buries his head in the crevice between your neck and shoulder, drool pooping from his mouth and onto your skin as he tries his best not to go limp.

his thrusts are slow to none, body shaking from the overstimulation. you press your chest against his, your nipples still stoned from earlier while you embrace him through his climax. you’re breathing hard, and so is he — lost in one another’s eyes as a million thoughts begin to crowd around you both. eren studies your ancy hips that still wiggled for more as he kisses your collarbone, down your chest and all around your stomach. he’s still inside of you, snugged deep along your walls with his tip puckering against your cervix. you felt sore, yet still so needy even after cumming all over both his dick, and his fresh sheets beneath you.

“jesus .. yn that was —“

“so fucking good.”

eren nods, his wet lips placing kisses on both of your cheeks while his calloused hands cradle your head, “yes, so fuckin’ good — you were .. so fuckin’ good,” he holds you close as he pulls himself out, grunting into your ear as your pussy still clenches down onto him without much effort. once he’s out, woe and behold, he slides off his messy condom and tosses it into the trash can near you both. before you knew it, eren was heading straight toward the bathroom, with you in his arms — bridal style. he carries you straight to the tub, ushering you to sit on the toilet and pee right before deciding to run a mixture of warm and semi cool temperatured water.

“i know how i can be .. was i too rough? y’know .. besides the beginning?” there’s a puppy dog look in his eyes when he asks this. your eyes trace the small tattoos on his fingers, those same fingers grazing the flesh on your inner thighs as eren wipes away the made you’d both made with a hot cloth first. he looked so sleepy — and how couldn’t he be given the amount of effort he’d put into making you feel the best that you possibly could. he cared so much, almost too much — so gentle and patient, light with every touch and phrase.

“don’t think too much, you were everything i could ever ask for ..”

scooping you up again, he places you in the bath that’d been calling your name since he made you finish the first time tonight. he shrugs and shakes his head as a smile creeps up on his lips, “psh, you’re just talkin’ ..”

“nono, seriously. thank you for being so sweet about .. all of this,” eren attentively pays close attention to your words, his hands now caressing your legs and french-tip painted toes as he sits next to the tub, watching your lips move to the speed of your words — slow and endearing. he studies the moister of them, wishing to take them into his mouth yet again, “you’ve been so kind to me — and patient, i feel like i-i can’t thank you enough with words.”

he sits for a moment, letting you get used the to the water, but obviously taken aback by your words. he was already trying to detach himself from the emotions he could feel bubbling in his chest the minute he pulled out, but you were just making it so fucking hard. you were in his house, in his bathtub, and would soon be wearing his clothes to sleep for the night — and all eren could think about was how he’d give up anything to make this a regular occurrence. he liked taking care of you. he liked being around you. he liked feeling you and letting you feel every inch of him — but most importantly, and probably most controversially, he liked you.

eren liked you, a lot.

but to say that sentence aloud would be a nightmare. professing his feelings in the heat of a moment like this could lead him right back to where you both were earlier this morning ; awkward, angry, confused — it was too much. if keeping silent meant keeping the peace, then that’s exactly what he’d do.

“hey hey, i don’t need ‘thank you’s’, yn. just doin’ you a favor remember? if anything i should be thankful you trusted me enough .. y’know, with all this. i know it might not have been your ideal first time but …”

it’s quiet now, but you smile, “it was perfect, eren. it was nothing less than perfect.”

the clock reads 1AM and you’ve fallen asleep in eren’s arms yet again for the second night in a row, snuggled into his chest as the sound of his beating heart soothes you like a soothing lullaby. he listens to the sound of your light snores while inhaling the mouth watering scent of the vanilla body wash he’d used on you, dozing off a bit as he grows excitedly anxious from the thought of you being the first person he would be seeing in the morning.

there you were ; laying on his bed, under his sheets, in his arms. you were freshly bathed, courtesy to eren splashing you with water and bubbles during the two hour long bath he’d given you — most of that time spent talking about any and everything with one another rather than cleaning you up, but he didn’t mind it one bit.

there was moment where he thought he could really get used to this — feeling your body fall into in his warmth so effortlessly while whispering sweet melodies into your ear. he felt like there was nothing on planet earth that could ruin this moment.

well, that was until his phone rattled against his nightstand, buzzing with three rounds of texts and two missed calls from no other than the villain himself — connie.

connie fucking springer.

the first text could be traced back to when you’d first arrived at eren’s doorstep.

bald man 9:52PM

yo i gotta talk to you about some shit.

the second, you were too busy moaning out in pleasure for eren to even think about reaching for his damn phone.

bald man 11:01PM

are u alive? i know i fucked up at poker but damn bro

bald man 1:15AM

i know ur awake fucker. come outside your place im already parked. hurry up before i have to walk my ass up there and drag you out my damn self.

eren’s eyes flicker to the time on his phone, at the text, then back at you again, the time reading 1:20AM.

bald man 1:20AM

i know she’s in there. i saw her car parked a few spots over open your fuckin door.

[mumblesplash]

more behind the scenes :D

so obviously my hgcz comic was a huge learning curve for me (i hadn't previously attempted a project this big EVER), and with this new and exciting experience came the opportunity to try something i'd never really done before: make actual character design refs!

i'm pretty happy with how they turned out, and more importantly they served several key purposes:

for one thing, both suits are specifically designed to make the character's poses as easy as possible to read--scar's leg braces especially don't allow for any visual misinterpretation of foreshortening or odd angles. the holster for grian's escrima sticks serves a similar function by giving a concrete sense of how his shoulders are positioned at a glance

also, crucially, they are both easy to draw. i was VERY aware that i was going to have to draw these guys dozens of times each, and i knew myself well enough to know i'd be adding in more than enough complexity with the posing and anatomy (and boy did i ever). i think i might have ended up with the least complex cuteguy design in the entire zine because of this, but in my defense he spends most of the comic pinned facedown on the floor. (this is also why i ended up simplifying his logo design in the final comic, if anyone was wondering)

more practical considerations included: hotguy's removable light-up vest, cuteguy wearing pants that could be rolled up so as to splint his broken leg, and his main weapon being escrima sticks so cleo had something to splint his leg with

i put arguably MORE effort into body language design (inasmuch as that's an actual thing, idk) but that's its own can of worms

of course, due to my nature the character design process deteriorated rapidly after i locked in my designs for hotguy and cuteguy. my design process for cleo was pretty much me drawing this sketch and going 'yeah that's what she looks like :)'

and my concept art for skizz was uh. this panel

i literally Just Drew Him. i was as surprised to discover what he looks like as you were.

looking back and comparing i can definitely see *some* benefits to designing character refs ahead of time, though to be more useful i think in the future i'd make sure the references include more closeup detail. or maybe i just refrain from things like putting an extremely distinct crack in a wraparound visor i have to draw over 100 times at every angle imaginable,,,

[sonyshock]

Tip/advice for drawing fast?

Of course! Let's see:

Practice speed drawing studies until you have the kind of speed you are happy with! It'll help you synthesize shapes and train your hands to do them in as few strokes as possible. It will also help you understand anatomy (for example) well enough that you can simplify it on the spot.

Collect references in advance!!! As in, one day earlier at least, so you can start the day with a general idea of how the picture will look like and without tiring yourself looking for references. Choice fatigue is a thing and finding references will take a lot of it. I use PureRef to collect references for commissions and about any other thing i want to draw or I have ideas for:

Zoom out. In the beginning and at the end of every stage (coloring, render). It'll help you get the areas of the drawing that can be solved with one stroke solved in one stroke, instead of multiple because you chose a small brush.

Use a big brush for a start. It'll force you to not focus on details. Add details gradually with smaller brushes.

Start with rough shapes rather than bit by bit. If you are drawing a character's full body, you should have the general structure in 10 seconds (general structure can look like two balls and a box, depends on what helps you best)

Redraw instead of fix. If you are stuck, it's probably better to redraw a piece of your picture or even the whole thing.

Don't do lineart. Use the sketch and refine it instead. Of course, this might depend on your style, but keep the choice in mind.

If you are going to render, exclude as many 'flat details' as possible. Body patterns, seams, even wrinkles (occasionally) will make the render more complex, when you can add them over the rendered piece afterwards and take less time.

When you start to render, begin with the borders of the figure. It'll help with blocking and by the time it's finished, it'll help you judge just how much you DO want to render

It's generally not got to only draw one thing unless it's very much by choice, but if you draw something similar very often (let's say, a bodyshot looking 3/4) you will get faster at it. Acknowledge your strengths. Even when branching out, you might want to start by diverging just a bit from it rather than a composition you are not familiar with at all

You might want to start pictures in monochrome and with a big brush instead of using base colors. This might or might not help you work faster depending on if you like refining art.

Schedule your art. Specially commissions. Knowing WHAT you will be drawing every day will help you get in the mind space to get it done and in how long you should.

That's what comes to mind! I might have more I'll add later

[juliametzgerart]

I have shared versions of this on other platforms before, so I might as well make a tumblr edition: here some tips for MtG portfolios I gathered and might be interesting for some people who follow me. 1. Since this is a trading card game, here comes the obvious one first: Always keep in mind that these are card illustrations, they have to be readable in super small. Which means that strong silhouettes and value structures are a must have. If you work digital, check the zoomed out version on regular basis, or even have some jpgs to check their thumbnails in your file browser. That can give you an idea about their readability. Traditionally you can of course take some steps back, or take some photographs to look at smaller previews on your devices. Also: print illustrations often come out darker than their screen versions, be careful with your darks! It's rather easy for things to go muddy, even if they look good on screen. In doubt, increase the brightness a bit. It's okay to have different versions for screen and print to meet their needs.

2. Be versatile about your topics and compositions. Zoom in, zoom out. Don't fall into the trap of your own comfort zone zoom level of showing things, or one way of doing things. It can be positive to offer purposefully unusual options.

3. Be aware of the focus. If you have a magician with a staff, ask yourself if the card is about the staff(artifact), the mage (creature) or perhaps even the spell. The composition and focus of the illustration should shift accordingly! Clear action is important for readability – since that is not just visual hierarchy here, but also storytelling. Which brings me to the next point: 4. Good narrative matters, but mechanics matter even more. So, again, be very aware of your illustration's focus. You can potentially add extra elements for the story to make it more fun, but it should not get too convoluted, and even less should it distract from what the card it actually about. If you come up with your very own ideas for a portfolio this is of course much more open than if you work from a description. But you can find a bunch of official MtG descriptions online which are super useful for training.

5. Show care. Plan the illustration, get the references in place. It's the best time to get good habits in place, and really finish the pieces. Don't make them weaker by going too fast, that is not convincing. It just lets people assume worse things for tight deadlines. This does not mean everything needs to be rendered to death - but shape design should remain thoughtful and purposeful even where soft and lost edges are used.

6. It's potentially okay to have your specific stylistic or thematic niche. It can mean less assignments at times, but can also mean more special ones. It's cool though for your voice to be visible as long as the other needs of the product are met.

7. Never stop using those references. Get them, make them, use them - take them seriously. (at least for any of the more realistic styles). It's one of the most repeated tips for any student to actually just use more references. They do a ton to get complicated things like anatomy and lighting right, but also cultural references and versatility. Many of the best Magic artists also make the best references – it's not a coincidence. Learn from the people who have already established themselves, they have great wisdom to share. 8. Your quality has to match the current roster. Yeah, sorry, no way around that one. You need at least to be as good as the currently "worst" artist in the roster to have a chance. And the ADs need to be sure that even on a bad day your art can meet their quality bar. Which is the reason why you likely need several art pieces at the required level, to prove it wasn't just some lucky fluke. Though once you're really there, that also means a bit less pressure to perform, since you're likely comfortable at your skill level and can only go up from there.

[littlecrittereli]

Random WK Headcanon dump

Here's a silly list of headcanons I have about team Wild Kratts, in no particular order other than what comes into my head first:

Heights:

Martin and Chris are based off their real heights and I filled everyone else in based off how they look standing next to each other. I exaggerated Aviva and Koki's height a little bit, just for some variety.

Koki is the tallest at 6' (182.9 cm)

Martin is 5'10 (177.8 cm)

Jimmy is 5'9 (175.3 cm)

Chris is 5'8 (172.7 cm)

and Aviva is the shortest at 5'3 (160 cm)

Reference:

Ages:

Martin is definitely the oldest at 25

Aviva is 24

Jimmy and Koki are both 23, Jimmy being a few months older

And Chris is runner up at 21

The reason for the small age gap is because Martin was ultimately the person that put together the Tortuga team when he graduated college, and he picked students that were also close to graduation at the time. Chris would have just been starting college, but would join them upon graduation because of his connection through Martin. Other freshmen at the time would not have qualified for the research grant.

Birthdays!!!

Martin: Dec 23rd (he's a capricorn)

Aviva: Nov 4th (She's a scorpio)

Jimmy: April 20th (He's a taurus)

Koki: August 27th (She's a virgo)

Chris: July 19th (He's a cancer)

Identities:

(Disclaimer this is referring to the fictional Wild Kratts animated characters ONLY. Not the actual people they are based on.)

Martin: he/him, bisexual. But his preference is women.

He's probably had a handful of girlfriends and a couple of boyfriends throughout high school and college, but unfortunately had too big of ambitions to settle down with anyone.

Aviva: she/her, bisexual. She doesn't have a preference.

She has probably been on like... 2 dates max. She has always been much more focused on her education and bettering her inventions than dating. Her only standard for a partnership is someone who can keep up with her intelligence. Or at least someone she can learn from and grow with.

Jimmy: he/him, straight.

He literally does not care, but he would probably kiss a man if the opportunity arose. Had a girlfriend in kindergarten and they spoke twice, but since she moved schools and they never officially broke up, he's still technically off the market.

Koki: she/they lesbian. SHE LIKES WOMEN

tried to date a man. regretted it. Has probably been in a couple semi-serious relationships, but didn't work out for various reasons. She's content to focus on her career for now but someday would love to be a mom.

Chris: he/they aroace

only proclaimed to have a crush on a girl in high school because everyone else was talking about crushes and he didn't want to feel left out. Doesn't really like to be touched in general. Would rather cut off his hand than be forced to hold someone else's in a non platonic way. When someone has a crush on him, he does not know how to respond so he literally just ignores them.

Silly Stuff:

-As a zoologist, Martin knows more about animal behaviors, classification, and identification. Meanwhile, Chris as a biologist knows more about the anatomy and general science of animals. For example, Martin would be able to explain the reasoning behind a firefly's glow while Chris would be able to explain the chemical reaction that makes the glow possible. And they are constantly sharing and learning from each other as well.

-Chris has glasses, he just doesn't really use them very often. They would get in the way of creature adventuring so he only wears them if he's reading or something. They aren't super crucial, it just helps with small words.

-Game nights are VERY serious on the Tortuga. Jimmy is suspiciously good at card/board games. He pretty much always wins. It's to the point where everyone else is on a team against him. Sometimes he lets them win and it has sent the entire team into a fight. Sorry has been banned in the Tortuga because of this.

-Koki's a huge theatre nerd. She participated in plays recreationally throughout high school, and will often hum or sing while she's doing a task.

-Martin plays the guitar and has a mediocre singing voice. It's nothing spectacular but he can carry a tune. Sometimes when the Tortuga is parked somewhere remote for the night, they will make a campfire and sing a few songs.

-Aviva has roller skates built into her shoes (SIDE NOTE: This is something we see very often in season 1 but they seemed to have forgotten about it??? or retconned it??? BUT I HATE IT BECAUSE THEY WERE SO COOL PLEASE BRING BACK THE ROLLER SKATES)

-Martin is a terrible driver. (The oldest sibling curse) He knows he's a terrible driver, but pretends he's not. Chris will usually try to take the driver's seat to prevent Martin from driving, but sometimes Martin beats him there. Will deflect any evidence of him being a bad driver. "That curb shouldn't have been there" Someone please revoke his license, he's a danger to society.

-Jimmy is definitely the best cook out of all of them. He makes food for the team most of the time, unless they are on a longer flight and he has to pilot. Koki and Chris are pretty competent chefs "Just read the recipe it's not that hard". Martin's basically limited to ramen noodles and microwave mac and cheese. Aviva, try as she might, can NOT cook. She will BURN water. (she always overcomplicates the recipes by trying to utilize an invention or something)

-Koki likes to crochet. She likes to keep her hands busy so whenever she's doing a rather boring task, like monitoring for bad weather/villains while the bros are out, she crochets.

-Jimmy gets insane jet lag, and since they are bouncing from different time zones all the time, he can never really catch up. Not to mention he has to stay up for irregular hours to fly the Tortuga. This is why he's always napping, and why the others usually leave him alone to sleep unless it's important.

[beansprean]

Hii!! Just wanted to ask how you get your poses on characters just flow so naturally? Is it like 2nd nature to you or does it take a really long time to get the poses right and natural? Bcs i've always struggled with that

Just wanted to ask since I really love the way you draw poses and perspective!! (Might be a weird complements but yeah sksnsksosj)

DJGGJHGIG ANON MY LOVE......YOU ARE SO SWEET

its DEF not 2nd nature lol ive been drawing for over 20 yrs now and still struggle with stiffness and line weight and foreshortening on a lot of poses. the best advice i have is to USE REFERENCES!! draw parallel to them, trace a sketch model over them to work off of, cut them up and splice them together to get closer to whats in your head, take photos of yourself, ask your discord friends with diff body types to show you their knees, etc etc etc.

@adorkastock is a FANTASTIC place to find both mundane and dynamic poses. I also recommend fatphotoref.com, publicdomainpictures.net, vishopper.com, line-of-action.com, and referenceangle.com as well as any free use stock photos.

(Protip: on image results on search engines, you can filter by creative licenses! go to the top of the results page; on google its under tools > usage rights, on qwant its under filters > any license, and on duckduckgo its in the 'all licenses' dropdown. u can choose 'creative commons' 'public domain' 'non-commercial' etc. This seems to help filter out AI results lol)

one thing that IS 2nd nature to me and i think helps put a lot of life into my drawings is that my sketch layers are very loosey goosey. when ur doing ur first sketch, dont worry about anatomy or anything, just doodle loose lines that have the shape/feel of what ur lookin for. THEN i worry about references/anatomy etc on a 2nd sketch layer, with my lower layer reminding me where to put emphasis and weight and what type of emotion/expression I was going for etc.

Its a lot harder for me to draw smth good without some kind of foundation, and a sloppy sketch layer gives me that AND lets me get out the idea quick and return to it later, while not feeling pressure to make it perfect! i tend to lose a lot of that whimsy and movement during the inking stage, which im still trying to figure out lol - but i think thats pretty universal? My example here is more cartoony so its less of an issue but you can see it a bit in the bend of the fingers and elbow.

Good luck on your drawing journey!!!! i hope this was helpful or at least interesting lmaoo

[inkblot22]

What's Worse?

I finally finished this. This unpostable thing. It's done and even if it's bad, I do not care. In the end, it ended up being 4k words and I'm okay with this. Header by @/cafekitsune

Who is this fic for? I tried to keep this one very neutral despite the many references to body parts, so anyone who can handle it is free to read! Keep in mind that pronouns such as you and they are used to refer to the reader. The reader is human and does have hair.

TW for coercion, noncon, dubcon, allusions to a physically and emotionally abusive dynamic, captivity, everyone is at least a little bit untrustworthy in this, mentions of the smell of blood, beastman-specific oddities and anatomy, violent and morbid similes. Just in case, I'd like to say that this is DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT. A lot of the stuff is more so implied than explicitly stated, but it's still there.

The day he moved up a grade and began his “internship” is the same day he took you with him. Sure, Grim came along, but you’re often so busy, or he’s often so busy, either way. So you haven’t seen your familiar in months, and your life is filled with Leona.

You don’t know why he did this, but the first night you were there, he tapped your uvula with his fingers as he orally serviced you so feverishly that you left teeth indent bruises on his knuckles from biting down so hard as you tried not to be loud. He wore them like jewelry, and you know his brother saw them. Everyone at the table knew what happened, because, according to Leona, no matter how often you shower, the way you smell will always give you away.

That was a little over six months ago. As far as captivity goes, it’s rather cushy. You stay within the confines of the Afterglow Savannah’s palace. Sometimes Leona gets a bit aggressive and you take it, but you’re fed, clothed, and possibly pampered. It could be worse. It could be far worse. You could be in the dungeons. 

You actually don’t know if this place has a dungeon, come to think of it. The last time you asked Leona, he asked you if there was an issue with the room you shared with him. When you tried to explain why you asked, he called you a “dumb herbivore” in a very fond tone of voice, then fell asleep. You didn’t try asking again.

It didn’t stop you from wandering. As it turns out, the Afterglow is mostly populated by beastmen… beastpeople? Aren’t all people beasts? Whatever, the point is, you’re basically the only person in the palace with muted senses. You often think back to Rook, wondering how he trained himself to use his senses so well. You tried to practice once, but Leona caught you hiding a  ball and chucked the thing out the window, telling you to find something better to do with your “skills.” You sure used one of your senses, at least.

Unfortunately, these “muted” senses, despite them being completely sensible for your human state of being, have led to some issues. For instance, when someone approaches you, you don’t notice until they’re within your field of awareness. Beyond that, according to Leona, Farena, Cheka, and Farena’s wife, you also tend to just reek of blood.

You have no idea why, and you’ve never noticed this before. You get out of the shower, having scrubbed hard enough to rid yourself of any dirt but not enough to create micro-abrasions on your skin, and Leona still complains about it. You play fight with Cheka, gentle enough that neither of you gets harmed and he’s giggly, and he pauses his mirth and wrinkles his little nose before asking if you got hurt. Zuri, Farena’s wife, regularly would stop you whenever she saw you, her eyes wide as she asked you if everything was okay. The palace staff didn’t say anything, but they’d constantly be re-filling your first-aid kit, one that was “gifted” to you and one that the staff and Kifaji (despite him being human like you, or maybe just not obviously a beastman) insisted that you carry at all times.

But out of all of them, Farena was the worst. If you were in Cheka’s nursery, even just seconds after the kid fell asleep, Farena would pop out of nowhere. If you lingered a bit too long in the kitchen or hallways, anywhere too far from Leona’s wing, he’d approach with a smile, his arms spread wide. If you came to the dining hall without Leona’ his glowing brown eyes would find you, the intensity akin to a sudden knife wound. His persistence in being around you was all blanketed by his uncomfortable implications when he spoke to you.

Even so, you happened to somehow get lost. The hallways are sort of color-coded, but you’ve passed this same hallway several times, enough for you to be okay with admitting that you’ve been walking in a circle for the past twenty minutes. And, much like the devil, as soon as you thought that if you were there any longer, a certain lion-man would appear, Farena popped up and scooped you into a hearty hug as greeting, your feet coming off the floor.

“Leona’s partner!” He never calls you by name. It’s always just that. You are Leona’s partner, not your own person, you guess, “I knew I’d find you eventually.”

“Yes. Hello, your highness.” You wheezed as he placed you back on the floor.

“Oh, you’re so prickly, just like my baby brother. You two are a perfect match- he does like a bit of bite.”

You rarely knew how to respond to him, so you often didn’t. You just stared at him, like a total moron, but he continued talking like you aren’t giving him the most anserine of looks- a word he has used to describe you before, basically to your face.

“I’ve heard that you forgot your first aid kit. We don’t need you tripping and scratching yourself on Leona’s dresser again, and not with an inability to heal yourself.” He never gave you time to answer, “Of course, I know you aren’t magic, but those of you without it have made some wonderful inventions to make up for that.”

“Oh. Yeah, I just left for, like, two seconds so I could return something to the kitchen.”

He nodded, thoughtful, still smiling, “Well, did you hit your head? You’ve been walking in a circle, and you didn’t even stop to say hi to me.”

“No. I, uh.” You cast your gaze down the hallway closest to you, then looked back at Farena, “I am a bit lost. I guess someone else is usually with me when I’m wandering around.”

Leona is not the only person in his family with a cunning streak. You are marginally aware of this, and when Farena’s eyes narrowed, you sucked in a breath.

“Hmm. You’re right, Leona’s partner. It is rather strange not to see you by my baby brother’s side.”

It struck you multiple times in the past that the amount of times you bumped into Farena couldn’t possibly be a coincidence. He’s a king, so why was he never ruling or whatever kings did all day? It was incredibly strange, and you made the same subtle discomforted motions like clockwork. He usually pretended not to notice whatsoever.

His grin was always too bright. You did prefer Leona’s smirk, “Very well. It looks like I’ll need to escort you back to Leona’s quarters, won’t I?”

“Uh. I mean, if you’re not busy.”

“You’re such a mousy thing. Come,” He offered you his arm.

You took it, and true to his word, he led you back to Leona’s wing, then straight up to the door. He knocked, and you ducked out of his arm to cautiously open the door. Leona strolled out of the bathroom, hair and skin wet, his eyes not even skimming over you before they flashed to his brother, who strolled in as though he owned the place. Maybe he did. Who owns a palace if not the king?

“Ah, Leona! I found your partner, wandering the halls like a lost lamb.”

As soon as the words process in Leona’s mind, his green eyes are sliding to pin you down. Your limbs feel like lead, and you don’t move or emote, lest he strike. He’s like a snake when he’s like this, which is ironic. Perhaps it’s not ironic, and just comedic. Who knows?

Regardless, Farena keeps talking, “And I missed you at lunch! What a shame. They had your favorite, you know. Meat! And lots of it. Don’t you ever get hungry, being in here all the time?”

If not for everyone talking about the way your skin smells, that comment could have been written off entirely. It didn’t feel great, being indirectly told that you smell like fresh meat, and Leona wasn’t helping much.

“Mmm. No. I don’t like my meat that rare.” Leona grumbles, taking a seat on his bed and waving you over. “Hey, c’mere and braid my hair.”

What was worse? Being told you smell delicious or being told you didn’t smell delicious enough? It was one of those things. You cautiously tied off his braids, capping both of them in beads that Cheka had gifted you. His hair was wet, clinging to his skin as desperately as the water did. You caught yourself watching a drop sliding over Leona’s tattoo and hummed softly. 

Farena was still talking. You didn’t hear the beginning, and you didn’t care about the end, so you completely tuned him out so you could finger detangle the rest of Leona’s wet hair. While you were ignoring Farena, you were pointedly all too aware of Leona’s sounds of pleasure. It took you a while to get used to it. You were a primate, and he was a lion. More lion than ape. He snorted and rumbled, huffed and chuffed, his face twisted in a scowl. 

“Ah, what a shame. I’ll have to speak to you later, Leona. Perhaps you could talk about those plans with Zuri. I’m sure she’d love to listen.” You tuned back in as Farena turned to the door, opening it before remembering himself and waving at you, “Bye bye, Leona’s partner!”

When he was gone, almost as soon as the door was closed, Leona twisted his torso to grab you around the waist and pull you into one of his kisses. You read somewhere that the reason men kiss so… wetly is so they can mark their partner. It makes more sense if they just didn’t want to kiss with dry lips, but you’re no kissing expert. Leona is not an exception to this, you supposed. He always licked his lips before pressing them against yours, slicked with his saliva and often accompanied by a quiet, barely perceptible growl. 

His kisses were dizzying. Possibly because it was difficult to breathe while kissing someone, and possibly because you were usually held in a crushing vice whenever he kissed you. Your poor ribcage had been squeezed many times. 

And just as soon as it started, he dropped you unceremoniously and stood up, walking past your sprawled body on his floor, “We’ve got some big dinner to get to. Get dressed.”

You scrambled to your feet, “Big dinner?”

“Mhm. It’s some official’s birthday. I can’t be bothered to remember who.”

That made enough sense. In the time you’d been here, you’d learned pretty quickly that it wasn’t exactly worth it to go out of your way to be remembered positively by everyone, especially not since you were… with Leona. In all the time you’d been here, you’d never been sure about what the nature of your relationship with him was, either. Asking would get you some kind of snarky or irritated answer, and not asking but thinking about it made it hard to focus on anything else, so you didn’t think about it.

“Oh. You see Grim today?” You asked while getting dressed in your own green and black dashiki, like a couple’s outfit in the matching pattern of Leona’s.

Like he always did, he stared for a moment before making a few small adjustments. It was funny, he couldn’t be bothered to care about his own appearance, and yet, when it came to you…

“Yeah, He’s good. Still working on the mage stuff.”

“Mmm. Okay. Thanks.” You mumbled, lifting your arms so Leona could look you over again, “What?”

“You stink like my brother. If we had time, I’d fix that, but…”

“What does he smell like?”

“Shouldn’t you be asking what I smell like?” He snapped, and you flinched. Sometimes his irritation came with physical indications, but heavier than the physical indications was the energy around him, “Forget it. Stay close to me tonight.”

You usually did. You hated parties here, but more than the parties themselves, you hated the strangers who came up to you and just said whatever. Last time, someone approached you and asked how big Leona’s wallet was for you to stick around. You’re learning to like nobility less, not that you particularly liked them before..

You’re tucked against Leona’s back for the entirety of the evening. He’s like a ward. People see him and walk the opposite direction unless they’re drunk or stupid, and those types are in short supply at the beginning of the night. Unfortunately, by the middle of the night, amongst sips of his drinks and nibbles of various finger foods, you felt exhausted and Leona was straight up pissed.

You wondered why for a bit too long. You barely even realized when you ended up back in his room, outside on his balcony. He was stewing, pouting like a toddler. You unstuck yourself from his side and sat in one of the chairs.

“Mmm.” He grumbled. He often did this, putting a noise to his emotion, but no words to explain himself. You’d wised up and figured out early on that it was best not to approach him for this type of thing, “Hey, runt.”

Uh oh. He tended to use that nickname before he did something foul to you. You squirmed in your chair and flinched as he turned around and yanked his shirt over his head. His pants went next. Leona didn’t bother with underwear.

“C’mere. What are you hidin’ in the corner for?” He mumbles, “We’ve got time now.”

Your uh oh gets multiplied. It’s not that you aren’t attracted to Leona, or that you’re not in the mood. It’s not that you’re terrified of him, not that you’re confused by his awkward libido. It’s that you honestly don’t know what he sees in you, sprinkled with a bit of relationship insecurity. You’re here because of him, you and Grim have a home because of him, but what’s going to happen when he gets bored with you? 

He looks over his shoulder at you sharply, “What the hell are you doin’? I said c’mere.”

You swallowed and took a few steps forward, stripping as you walked. The night air makes your skin tingle with goosebumps, your nipples hardening and a shiver rattling through you. It’s a very strong possibility that these feelings have beset you based only on the fact that someone could look up from Zuri’s garden and see you and Leona, both naked on his balcony.

 When you’re standing in front of him, he just stares, one of his hands ever so gently stroking himself. You think it’s funny, the phrase “playing with yourself,” because that is what it is. His fingers softly paw at his heavy balls, gliding up the base of his shaft to tweak the head of his cock under his foreskin. He doesn’t break his gaze on you to look at himself. The hand that is not busy with himself reaches out to grab your waist, just above the start of your hip, and yank you closer.

He’s not gentle. Not really. You know he has the capacity to be gentle, but he doesn’t really seem to care. In the past, when you’ve pleaded with him to be gentle, he’s told you that he would treat you like glass if he thought you were made of it, but since he’s seen you suffer worse (what is worse?) he doesn’t see the point in bothering. That doesn’t change the fact that his touch often hurts. Now is not an exception, and you make your displeasure clear with a soft noise of discomfort.

“Shhh. You wanna tell me what happened earlier?” Leona mumbles, pressing his face against the skin on your stomach, taking a deep breath and letting out a sigh.

You absolutely hate it when he smells you like this, but that’s not important right now, “Wh-what?”

“With Farena. You looked freaked out.” Leona ever so lightly kisses the pit of your bellybutton, “He do anything to you?”

You’re not a fan of Leona acting like this. While it seems like he cares, you know from past experience that he’s typically, if not always, on the brink of a jealous meltdown. His jealous meltdowns almost always end with you sitting alone in the bathroom, tending to your own wounds as he sleeps like a kid who just threw a tantrum. So you decide to give a simple answer before distracting him, at least for a moment.

You scratch the nape of his neck, since he doesn’t like you touching his ears, “He was just his usual off-putting self. Nothing else.”

Leona grunts and looks up at you, so you take your chance. You lean down, sitting on your knees, and press a mock-reverent kiss to Leona’s thigh. He’s surprisingly hairless, for someone who is more lion than ape. You suppose the same could be said for yourself, as someone who is more ape than lion. 

Leona’s unimpressed face slants into a smirk, and his hand that was previously fondling his genitals slides to cup your cheek, fingertips rubbing behind your ear.

Now that it’s right in front of your face, you wish that you hadn’t decided that this was the best option for distraction. You think maybe anything would be better than catching those barbs in the back of your throat. The little softly-curved nubs circling the base of the head of Leona’s cock flare out a bit, resembling one of those Elizabethan ruffs, tattered by the passage of time and reduced to the skeleton. They aren’t sharp, not truly, but they’re uncomfortable, especially when you forget that the more worked up Leona gets, the further they poke out and the harsher they feel. It’s similar to someone’s very carefully blunted fingernail and fingertip rubbing against your cheeks.

You try to suck up your carefully hidden disgust and press a soft kiss to the very tip of Leona’s dick, wetting your lips with his salty pre. Surprisingly, he doesn’t taste bad. You would think that his skin, his cum, would taste bitter and harsh, but it’s not the worst thing you’ve ever tasted. Perhaps that’s a silver lining in this wicked situation.

Regardless, a quiet grumble from him makes you snap back into the reality of where you are, and you figure you may as well get to work. You slide your lips down to his base, wincing as the spongy head of his member punches the back of your throat and his hand slides back to grip your nape.

“You trying to bore me to death, runt? You know I hate this teasing shit.”

That’s right. He absolutely loathes it. You bob your head a little more expeditiously, trying to ignore the slick mixture of drool and pre that is escaping from the corners of your lips and the ever-increasing strength of Leona’s thrusts against your face.

Despite your senses being the most dull in the palace, you can sort of hear the festivities downstairs, and Leona chuckles, standing with your head still cradled in his hand so he can actually start thrusting. It always begins with you trying to set a gentle pace and it always quickly dissolves into chaos. He’s lazy, but if he’s anything more than lazy, it’s a shameless pleasure chaser. You would think that you would have learned by now.

“You can’t hear them. They’re not at all concerned with me, they’re wondering where you went off to. But everyone knows that you belong to me, so they should know that you’re with me.” Leona mumbles. 

You gag, his dickhead wetly popping against the back of your throat as the fluids in your mouth froth with the speed of his motions, gooey trails roping down to cling to your cheeks and collarbones, connecting to Leona’s shifting hips. At least he doesn’t stink today.

A bug lands on your shoulder and flits away as you choke on Leona as he shoves his cock down your throat. Maybe you should feel a bit more grateful that this is happening partially outside, and that way you can have constant reminders that you’re still alive and not in some form of purgatory, serving time for your very minor moments of humanity when you were alive. 

Leona snarls, “You’re just so cute, with those lips wrapped around me. I wonder if my brother would keep flirting with you if he knew that you were like this in private.”

The implications of that statement are absolutely lost on you. You’re aware that Leona knows how you feel about your current life to a degree, but he doesn’t give a damn about your emotions. Whatever he’s talking about is absolutely just him babbling out some sex-addled nonsense. As the barbs scrape against your uvula, you gag and try to push his hips away so you can catch your breath for a second.

He doesn’t let up. Sweat is sliding over his skin, beading into crystal pearls and sliding down to flavor the skin in your mouth with their salt. If you don’t puke from his roughness, you’re going to puke from ingesting so much sodium. His smirk grows and his fingers massage the base of your head as if he isn’t pounding into your throat.

“Aw… too much? Maybe if you were a bit more active, I’d be done a bit sooner.” He coos.

You don’t fully hate Leona. He has given you somewhere to stay, food to eat, clothes to wear, for both you and Grim, but whenever he gets like this, taunting you even though he’s using you like a cheap sleeve, you feel an indescribable, hopeless anger. Regardless, you bring one of your hands up to the copious amounts of drool and pre and sweat that are covering your skin, collecting the goop on your fingers. You cup his ass with your non-gooey hand and spread that cheek, plunging a finger into his asshole and aimlessly crooking your finger.

His hips spasm, his hand fists into your hair and he lets out a low grumble, “Rrr.”

You slowly ease your other gooey finger into his ass and hope that he will cum soon so you can catch your breath. You need a shower, and he’s probably going to just go to bed after this. You’re more tired than he is, and you’re actually beginning to think that you both might be a bit tipsy. You need this to end, and you need it to end soon.

Your prayers are answered. You feel his cock bob in the back of your throat, the glans tapping that soft spot that makes you feel it in the back of your nose, and he yanks your head back, your lips releasing him with a somewhat loud pop.

His cum is hotter than it has any right being. You suppose since he runs hot, it’s not that shocking, but you’re also aware that the whole reason that the balls are not an internal thing is because the human body is way too hot for sperm to live for long periods of time inside of the body. This information is irrelevant, however, because Leona has just made the mess on your skin that much worse. You sigh as he lets go of you, flopping back into his chair and gesturing to his cock again.

“Can you clean me up before you go running off?”

You’d love to tell him no, to ask him to shove it, but you grunt your acquiescence and tongue-clean his messy skin, as if you aren’t covered in more slime than he is. Once done, you stand up and gather your clothes, placing them in the laundry bin in the bathroom and getting in the shower.

You scrub a little harder than usual, but not hard enough to break skin, not even enough to create micro-abrasions. Once out, you throw on one of Leona’s gaudy yellow tees and take a seat on the bed. He’s already curled up under the covers, but the soft tapping of his tail lets you know that he isn’t sleeping. You slide under the covers yourself and Leona rolls over, pulling your back into his chest.

“Hey.” He mumbles into your hair, “You stink like a fresh kill.”

What’s worse? Smelling like blood in a den of predators or being in the den of predators to begin with?

[the-s1lly-corner]

Drawing each other (CRPS 1/2)

I'm probably going to forget to break these posts up unless like- I dont write all the fandom parts at once so I'm sorry you guys have to see the same prompt but different groups of characters/fandoms over and over LMAO

Characters: slenderman, splendorman, masky, hoodie, ticci toby

Notes: reader is GN, admin tossed a coin on whether or not the reader is an artist or not

CWs: none

SLENDERMAN

neither of you are... good artists... but neither of you are about to judge one another for your skill levels

im... not even sure hes picked up a pencil before in his life, and that shows in his drawing of you

he keeps the art you make of him tucked away somewhere, where exactly... youre not actually sure, but you know he keeps them as youve caught him holding them before

you keep his drawings of you tucked away somewhere where they cant be damaged

... its not the best bonding activity, but its a nice little moment between the two of you that feels... normal

SPLENDORMAN

he love love loves watching you draw, so when you approached him with this idea hes over the moon! you want to draw him? and you want him to draw you as well? say no more!

hes not insanely skilled, but he doodles here and there! likes using bright colors, so expect his drawing of you to be vibrant! if you let him hes going to add extra stuff such as glitter and stickers! youre not sure where he gets them...

waits patiently for you to finish your drawing, he even does his best to sit as still as possible so you can get a better reference of him

even if its not your best work- in your opinion- hes going to treat it like its the greatest piece of art made by anyone ever

hangs it up on the fridge, and will constantly praise you

is it a little much? ...yes... but damn it hes going to let you know how much he loves it!

MASKY

i like to think that proxies are the ones who create slenders pages, and... well they arent exactly pretty, a lot being just scribbles

doesnt find much enjoyment in drawing, but he may agree to do this with you

now you on the other hand, you like drawing... and its likely masky may pick up on some of the things you do when making it, even if you dont notice him hes somewhere watching you

his drawing of you has the scratchy look a lot of the pages have... but since hes given more time to work on it, it looks a lot nicer than some of the pages even if theres some flaws in the anatomy and all

quietly looks at the drawing youve made of him, he doesnt seem offended by your portray of him so at least you have that going for you!

gently places it on the table, but youre sure hes going to put it in his stash somewhere in the house to keep for later

HOODIE

not much of an artist, and neither are you

generally the interaction is pretty light hearted, even if there isnt much talking between the two of you

very proud of his drawing of you, even if it ends up being a mass of colors that only slightly resemble you- similar to masky, theres a lot of that scratchy black scribbling on his drawing of you

gives you a thumbs up when he receives your drawing of him, he doesnt say anything but thats to be expected from him

tucks it into the back pocket of his pants

TICCI TOBY

he cant draw, but you can... it leads to a.. funny exchange

you put so much time into drawing him how you view him, even if its just a quick colored sketch, its going to look like mona lisa compared to what toby is about to show you

you both poke fun at the skill difference between the two of you, it quickly leads to the both of you needing to take minute in order to catch your breath

hes not interested in art, or improving his skills however hes going to jump at the idea of you offering to teach him some stuff

just to spend time with you, really! there isnt much spare time to do that given his being a proxy thing... likes any excuse to hang around

[gay-little-izzet]

I do commissions!

It’s been a busy few months for me, but I’m finally feeling in a good place to start doing these again! Note that I only accept payment through PayPal at the moment, and my prices are in USD.

Full information below ⬇️

I offer characters illustrations in four styles and three sizes. The images above are not the only possibilities of how a commission could be inked or rendered, as I’m open to using different brushes or techniques on request. If there’s a particular piece of mine you like the style of, let me know and I can refer you to the pricing that applies.

OPTIONS AND RATES

Sketch: a rough sketch with a textured or untextured brush. Sketch commissions will include an under-sketch to determine pose and composition. Some of these prices are intended mostly for inclusion as part of a character sheet. I will add base colors to a sketch for double the original price.

Head/Bust: $5 ($10 with color)

Half Body: $10 ($20 with color)

Full Body: $15 ($30 with color)

Style A: Thick or medium lines with basic colors underneath. Includes simple details and gradients, but not full shading.

Head/Bust: $15

Half Body: $30

Full Body: $40

Style B: Thick or medium lines with soft shading or cell shading.

Head/Bust: $20

Half Body: $40

Full Body: $60

Style C: Medium or thin lines with full shading/render. +$10 for colored line art.

Head/Bust: $30

Half Body: $60

Full Body: $90

Chibis: I've finally found a style I like for drawing chibi characters, so I'll be including this as a new commission option! Chibis will all be done in the same style, with thick lines and basic coloring.

Head: $10

Full Body: $30

Character Sheet: A series of drawings of a single character, provided they are commissioned at the same time, will cost 10% less than the sum of all components. This includes characters dressed in different outfits, but normal rates apply to a commission of multiple distinct characters.

Complex Design: Since the level of the detail of a design will impact the time it takes me to draw, I am now including an additional charge of 5-10% of the original cost for especially complex designs (very detailed clothing, elaborate anatomy, complicated color/shading situations). As complexity may vary, the additional cost will vary as well (although it literally can't exceed $10 for a single drawing based on my current prices). I appreciate it if clients are understanding when I decide a drawing will cost extra, because this charge helps ensure I am earning a decent rate for my time.

PAYMENT PROCESS

As I mentioned above, I accept payment through PayPal in USD. You can send money directly to my account, @VRWintner, or if it’s more convenient for you/you would like a more specific record of the transaction, I can also send an invoice directly to your PayPal account.

For commissions of $30 or more, I require at least 50% of the cost to be paid upfront (although clients are welcome to pay more than that, or pay in full upfront). The remaining cost can be paid upon completion, and may be paid in installments if necessary. Bear in mind that if you fail to fully pay for a commission, you cannot purchase another until you have done so, and I may be hesitant to accept a commission if you are unreliable with payment.

I always welcome tips! If you're able and willing to toss me a little extra on a comm, I greatly appreciate it (but no stress if you can't--I don't expect to be paid any more than the agreed upon price, anything extra is up to you).

DISCLAIMERS

I Can/Will Draw:

ocs/rpg characters

fanart

ship art (including fanart or ocs)

party/group drawings

furry/anthro/monsters

robots/cyborgs/phyrexians, ect.

prosthetics and other tech

armor and weapons

blood/gore/body horror

non-sexual nudity

specific art styles

I Can't/Won't Draw:

explicitly sexual content

harmful or offensive content of any kind

any material I have personal or ethical issues with drawing. Given the commissions I have had before, I don't see this being a problem, but if this or the above clause applies, I will make it clear with the client that I am unwilling to draw it immediately.

Understand that art commissioned from me is still my art, and I expect to be credited for it. Please don’t repost my art without credit to me (rude), use it for training ai (why), or use it for commercial purposes (again, why). Again, I don't see this being an issue, as you all have been lovely clients thus far!

If you have questions about my rates or policies, please don't hesitate to ask--my inbox and dms are always open, and I will try to respond promptly. Thank you all for the love and support!

[sea-salted-wolverine]

I'm violently obsessed with the salmon plushie, is there absolutely any way we could get even a very rough pattern? Like rough ideas of shapes/sizes/placements? It wouldn't have to be super detailed, or even complete, I'm mostly interested in how you did the head/jaw and fins. I would be willing to pay you for it. You are the BEST auntie ever!!!! 🐟💗

@benevolentbirdgal you asked something similar i just haven't got around to answering

I have had people in real life ask for a pattern of how I did this and unfortunately I don't even know how to read/follow a pattern much less write/arrange/format one. If you scroll back through my blog a bit you can find all the progress pictures, they should all be tagged with both #plushie and #neice creature.

I suppose if you wanted a write up of the process it would go something like this.

Step one, become intimately acquainted with fish. Be born in a place where a large chunk of the state charter is about fishing rights. Go to kindergarten in a place where they not only teach kids about every phase of the life cycle but also raise salmon fry in classroom aquariums. Catch and clean alot of fish, like alot, like get up into the thousands. Become so quick and efficient at cleaning fish that tourists stop to watch you and people ask for lessons and knife sharpening.

Step two, now that you have the anatomy of a salmon ingrained into the fibers of your soul, just, draw one in its entirety on the inside of a pair of jeans that never fit. Make it half size, for baby hands, about the size of a trout. I literally never put a ruler anywhere near this thing, but like, 12-14 inches tip to tail.

Step three, make the pectoral, pelvic, anal, and dorsal fins as well as the caudal fin(tail). Make vague plans about the adipose fin and then give up and ignore it because no one cares about the adipose fin, including the fish themselves. Turn all the fins right-side out and stitch their rays on, giving them a little bit of structure and shape. Get to the tail fin and realize you are not stitching 20 fin rays on there and find a happy medium between accuracy and ease.

Step four. Fuck. Fish are hollow. The whole point of cleaning a fish is to cut it into lots of little pieces, some of which you eat and some of which you discard, which is not something you want of a child's toy. You could. But you don't want whoever is cleaning up after this toddler to run around picking up lil fishy organs. Rethink the way you filet a fish. Cringe at the thought that the most efficient way to make this plush is the least efficient way to filet a fish.

The filets themselves are easy, or at least, they're easy if you've done step one. It's an oblong shape with the belly color stitched directly to the denim, about the width of a hand. The meat is a safety orange tee-shirt that is now a crop top (insert long rant about the correct color of sockeye salmon meat here. It should not be fucking pink. Do not let anyone tell you it should be pink.) Stitch everything inside out and turn the seams in, then stuff them with shredded tee-shirt scraps because batting and stuffing is for people who can plan projects before they do them.

Step five, carcass. The dorsal fin gets seamed between a pair of denim strips to make the back. The adipose fin is a useful reference point for the locations of everything else but I couldn't figure out how to get the seams to work the way I wanted them so I ignored the adipose fin. Rip. The meat color gets seamed to the back and then the belly color to make a funky looking tube shape with fins sticking out. There was some finagling to make the fins sit in the places I wanted them to but everything sits in a seam except the anal fin which was easy enough to shove in a dart.

Step six, fishheads. Uhh, okay, there's how I did it and then there's how I would do it again. What I did was make a head out of a single piece of denim with some darts to make it the shape I wanted. Then I made the gills a sort of half moon shaped pocket with a redish pink color and seamed the pectoral fins in where the red met the orange. The jaw was a stuffed tongue of material attached to the belly and inside of the mouth, which is when realized I forgot to stuff the body. I do like how I stuffed the body because I took 6 layers of tee-shirt material tacked together in the vague shape of a fish and crammed it inside so it laid flat. It held more structural shape without being rigid or puffy. If I could have remembered to do that before I stitched everything close it would have been ideal.

If I was gonna do it over I would have made the head hollow and lined it with the red gill color and made the jaw a continuation of the belly so there would be an opening all the way through. I would also add some gill frills and fill them with rigid plastic to maintain the structure. I would also rearrange the pectoral fins to seam them in right behind the gills rather than below them.

Eyeballs this time around were buttons and finding sew on eyeballs is harder than I thought it would be but thats the obvious upgrade.

Guts were just a simple blob hand-sewn on, but with a bit more planning, I could actually do a digestive tract gas bladder, liver and roe sac. If I was gonna get that in depth I would rearrange the piecing order to have correctly fileted belly, so it would better explain how to harvest roe and belly meat. Plus as long as I was planning things rather than just slapping things together I would do some quick machine embroidery for muscle separations and a midline on the scales, mostly to make it pretty but also as a reference and indication of musculature.

Oh. Step six, the damn Velcro. Every craft store in Alaska is out of Velcro at the moment. Okay, maybe not every single one but all of them in between Fairbanks and Anchorage. And Home Depot. I found the stuff to stick on walls at Lowes which did not work nearly as well as I hoped it would. I had to force the needle through by bracing it against the floor and forcing the plush down on top of it. Forget a thimble, I was considering pliers. I was rushing (and also finishing it at my moms house) by the time I got to this part but I would get more creative and cut it into a shape more reminiscent of a spine next time.

I was gonna vacuum pack it before I wrapped it as a present because it would have been hilarious but I was slapping wrapping paper on while getting squawked at about being late, so we can all mourn the joke that never got the chance to land.

In conclusion, winging it gets you some crazy places and wild results but there are trade offs to careening speed, mostly in missed opportunities. But if you have a lot of pre-existing knowledge like general understanding of how seams work and also how fish work, you can pad out a lot of the inevitable fuck ups. If you are just jumping into raw dog a plushy pattern, I recommend starting out with something you are innately familiar with, rather than something that strikes you as cool.