How Can I Learn How To Draw An Anime Face From Three-Quarter Angles?

He is my art coach. And he sucked my dick after our first lesson, obviously, I didn't know he was gay! Now, I have to accept that I am impossibly attracted to a man who is eleven years older than me and a relationship between us could never be possible….or? ~~~    “Do you regularly do this with men you meet for the first time?” Min-a asked, his eyes still appearing a little dilated.    “If you mean giving them a ride in my Mustang? No, I don’t do that.” Seung-ho replied, sounding serious. He glanced at Min-a to see a frown knitting his eyebrows close, and he chuckled. “If it would make you less grumpy, sucking your dick bruised my jaw. So, I don’t think I would be giving free blow jobs to any other man I meet in the near future…”  ~~~~ 22-year-old Model influencer, Korea's number one bad boy, Seo Min-a, has everything a boy could want: great looks, amazing talent, the only son of a billionaire family, millions of followers, and fangirls at his feet. Min-a’s quest to help his sister sign a contract with the defiant artist Kwan Seung-ho, who was a much older man leads him to a brilliant art coach who challenges his understanding of love and identity. Could they really be a couple in a society where being gay is seen as condemnable? What Epic Love Story will they write?

I was a sketch artist acting for the police. On a secret mission, I was discovered by a murderer. My eyes were gouged out, and my body was dismembered, unceremoniously dumped in a garbage bin. On the brink of death, I called my boyfriend, a criminal investigator. However, he hung up on me because he was busy accompanying his first love to a prenatal checkup. A few days later, he received a painting that was a vital clue to finding the murderer, but he thought I was playing tricks on him. In his anger, he tore that portrait to shreds. After he found out the truth, he spent the whole night searching through the garbage to piece it back together.

Isla: A missing child who had been presumed dead for several years. Is she, however, truly dead? Tricia: An heiress and the daughter of a powerful Empire businessman. Was that life, however, truly meant for her? Violet: An Assassin’s Guild Founder and the reigning Queen of the Underground City. Is she, however, worthy of that title? All three distinct identities converge on a single fate. What if the enigmatic cold assassin and mafia heir named Seth happens to cross her path? Will Seth be able to figure out what she's trying to hide? Or will she reveal herself alongside him? Upon her sister’s death, she blamed herself for it. That she changed her identity in order to start a new life. She worked so hard to earn what she had right now. She became strong, powerful, feared, and respected. After many years have passed. What if a ghost from her past comes back to haunt her? What if the things she ought to believe isn't what they really are? Will she be able to deal with it? What if the people she's grown to love and care for have secrets of their own? Will she be able to accept it? Will it get easier for her in the long run? Or else fate will make things even more difficult for her. She had always wished to live a normal life, but that wish seemed to exist only in her imagination. For she is, after all, the girl with the TATTOO ON HER FACE.

I have a secret. If I touch anyone, I will be able to see the face of the person they love the most. Ever since Dominic Hatterson has moved to the house next door when he was seven years old, I'm the one he loves the most. When he holds hands with me as an 18-year-old, I remain the person he loves the most. When he proposes to me at the age of 22, I'm still the person he loves the most. On the morning of our third year anniversary, I tidy his collar for him. The moment my fingertips touch his Adam's apple, I close my eyes out of reflex. Yet, that's when I see two faces. One belongs to me. The other belongs to a woman I've never seen before. That night, Dominic's phone lights up. "Thank you for spending the day with me, Dom." It's been 21 years since Dominic and I met. I've touched him over 100 thousand times already. And yet, this is my first time finding a mistake.

"Miss Elara, get out of my class." The icy command snapped Elara back to reality. She shot to her feet so fast her chair screeched against the floor, her heart hammering against her ribs. She blinked wildly at the imposing figure commanding the front of the room: Professor Adrian Kingsley. Confusion flared before anger could. Why was she being kicked out? She hadn't said a word! She had been sitting there perfectly quietly... Well, quietly sketching. Her gaze drifted down to the open notebook on her desk. Right in the center of the page was an incredibly detailed, charcoal rendition of the professor himself. She had captured the sharp jawline, the piercing eyes, and, for reasons she couldn't entirely justify…a set of ripped abs that definitely weren't visible beneath his tailored three-piece suit. ‘Oops.’ Heat rushed to her cheeks. Panicking, she leveled a fierce, righteous glare at him, trying to mask her guilt with pure audacity. But the emotionless ice statue didn't even blink. "Bag," he said coolly. "What?" "Take it and leave." Grinding her teeth, Elara aggressively shoved her notebook into her bag, silently vowing that this man would become the ultimate bane of her existence. She stomped down the steps, her posture rigid with fury. But just as she brushed past his podium, his deadly voice brushed against her ears. "And Miss Elara..." She paused, glaring. "If you're going to stare at your professor as though you'd like to strip him with your eyes," Adrian murmured, his gaze never leaving his lesson plans, "at least do it somewhere more discreet.” Elara's face erupted into a brilliant, mortified scarlet. "You—!" Choking on her own outrage and utterly devoid of a comeback, she flashed him a defiant middle finger, and stormed out, letting the heavy door slam behind her.

In Reychelle City, a contest was held to crown the most beautiful woman. After my cousin scarred my face, she seized first place with ease. What she never expected was that this year's contest wasn't for fame; it was to select the future wife of the Third Prince, a ruthless, bloodthirsty eunuch. That very afternoon, gifts poured in by the cartload. My betrothed panicked. That night, he tore up our engagement contract and carried my cousin into the bridal chamber. The next day, she trailed her lacquered fingertips across my cheek and sneered, "Alicia, with your ruined face, who would ever want you? Perhaps the beggar at the street corner might take you in." I caught her wrist, let out a cold laugh, and said, "Who told you I would marry a beggar?" Before her stunned eyes, I pushed open my parents' chamber doors. "Mom, since Maggie doesn't wish to be the prince's consort… let me take her place." Three years later, before the eyes of a shocked court, the Third Prince entered the grand hall with me at his side, with two children in tow. No one had foreseen it. This body of mine, blessed with the rarest gift of fertility, was the perfect match for a man believed incapable of siring heirs.