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Yandere! Sanemi Shinazugawa NSFW Profile

Yandere! Sanemi Shinazugawa x fem! reader

Tw: stalking, kidnapping, mentions of non-con and dub-con, public masturbation, voyeurism/non-consensual voyeurism, exhibitionism, spitting (m and f receiving), dick slapping, cumplay, possessiveness, mild gore, mentions of death, Stockholm Syndrome/reader is implied to start liking him, Sanemi is kind of a hot mess approaching sex so hopefully that has been conveyed, I hc hard that Sanemi is a virgin so don't bother fighting me on it, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 15K

HABITS:

Intimacy is very much not something that Sanemi is familiar with. He’s never even considered taking a partner, staunchly ignoring his fellow Hashira’s taunts (almost exclusively from Tengen and the odd, poorly-timed comment from Giyuu) about how he’d just ‘calm down’ a bit if he had a pretty woman to relieve his stress onto.

And while he’s mature enough to admit there’s probably some truth to that, he’s still rejecting the very few advances that come his way. He’s not only entirely uninterested in dealing with the intricacies and expectations of a relationship, but he’s also convinced that due to his traumatic past and the way he deals he interacts with those he loves, he’s unfit to be a partner.

He doesn’t think he has the capability to properly commit himself to someone, to become emotionally dependent on them – and frankly he doesn’t want them to become emotionally attached to him, either. It’s just too risky considering his job and his habits in battle – every night is a question of survival, missions leaving him so bloody and battered that it’s a miracle he pulls through, a miracle that Shinobu doesn’t just kill him herself with how often he winds up in her infirmary.

It’s just wildly unpractical – and it’s not like he chooses to become so horribly, deeply obsessed with you. He’s angry in the beginning, genuinely trying to hate you and distance himself from you in every possible way, but you’re like some irritating, persistent bug that manages to crawl back to him every time he thinks he’s shaken you off.

(A mindset that makes him feel incredibly guilty later on, ashamed of himself for having thought of you in such a derogatory, rude way. This is particularly true because now he’d be absolutely devastated if you were to leave his life, panic and terror engulfing him because no no no you’re not allowed to leave him.)

But once the feelings have been cemented and Sanemi finally, finally accepts that he can do nothing to change him, that outlook on intimacy being unavailable begins to change. Of course, he’s not immediately grabbing and groping at you, nor is he fantasizing about the way you’d look underneath him whimpering and writhing as he fucks into you.

(Wet dreams aside, of course. He doesn’t often wake up to messy, sticky sheets, but the shame that swallows him when he does is so palpable that even his fellow Hashira notice. Rengoku will ask in a much-too-loud voice if he’d slept well, if he’s okay, why there’s still a slight flush on his face, leaving Sanemi to only snap at him and storm out of whatever area they’re in.)

No, his fantasies are genuinely more innocent in the beginning – virginal, really, with the way he blushes a light pink at the thought of wrapping you in his arms, the simple idea of hugging you being enough to get him covering his mouth with his palm, too flustered to function. The mere concept of you pressing a kiss to his cheek – not even his fucking lips – gets him feeling hot under the collar, body too warm for him to sit still, needing to blow off the steam and refocus himself before he embarrasses himself in front of you.

It makes him feel weak, really, how these simplistic, easy forms of intimacy and affection are able to affect him in such a profound way, and as time passes it’s really only natural for his imagination to start turning lewder. It’s not something that he thinks of on his own necessarily, if only because there’s a large mental block there where he tries to separate the thought of you from anything he deems disrespectful or dirty.

He tells himself that you’re pretty, not sexy. (But oh god does he think you’re sexy, everything from your voice to your hair to your skin making him drool like some sort of perverted old man, blood rushing between his legs when he sees you bite your lip or flick your hair, having to quickly excuse himself for fear that you’ll see the way his pants are growing sinfully tight.)

You’re sweet, not naughty. (But oh, Sanemi wouldn’t mind if you were a bit bratty in bed, if you had a rebellious streak to you and made him work for it, made him put in every ounce of effort just to get you creaming on his fingers or tugging on his hair or letting him spill every last drop of cum he has to give you inside that tight little cunt of yours.)

It’s a strict boundary for him, but all it takes is a single seed to be planted that ultimately breaks his moral high ground. Perhaps it’s Rengoku noticing off-hand that Sanemi seems to be a bit quieter these days, the former laughing loudly and congratulating Sanemi on finding that beautiful woman Tengen was talking about – tell me, does she satisfy you in all the ways you require? It makes Sanemi sputter and cough slightly, shocked at both Rengoku’s observational accuracy and the insinuation of you pleasuring him.

(And also seething in jealousy because how the fuck does Rengoku know about you? Has he met you? Has he fucked you? Is that why he’s thinking about you in a sexual manner?)

He tries to stop it, but it’s too late – there’s a quick, shockingly explicit image of you on your back, knees folded up to your chin and Sanemi’s cock stretching you so widely that you’re crying, nails scraping down his back and moans of yes yes please more ‘Nemi please falling past your lips.

He’s ashamed of himself, training until he nearly blacks out from the exhaustion, Iguro shocked and mildly concerned at just how hard and raggedly he’s pushing himself.

(And, out of respect for the unspoken friendship between them, he ignores the way Sanemi’s been sporting a raging hard-on for the duration of their some three-hour sparring session, cock swollen and not settling down for even an instant. Frankly, he’s amazed Sanemi could fight as well as he did considering his situation.)

It’s shameful, Sanemi thinks, and it leaves him utterly mortified that he's letting his more primal thoughts win, but once the door opens he can’t quite shut it. He still tries – pushing idle thoughts of you on your knees for him out of his mind, cursing under his breath as he follows a few feet behind you, acting as your shadow and trying so, so very desperately to not notice the way your kimono is spread tightly across your ass. It’s commendable, really, just how long he manages to keep himself accountable, but it becomes more difficult the more time he spends watching you, seeing aspects of you that are really much more personal than he has a right to know.

And the final straw comes one sunny afternoon, when you’re walking with him down the rather crowded street of your town. He’s accompanying you because ‘it’s too crowded for you to be out alone’, as he’d told you, and he’s staying close to your side, careful not to touch you but always in your peripheral.

And really, maybe he’d had a point – because all it takes is a single shove from a woman next to you, and suddenly you’re falling forward, arms automatically reaching out to steady yourself but instead slamming into Sanemi’s chest, his noise of shock and the feeling of your thumbs touching his bare skin distracting him enough to leave the two of you tumbling the to the ground.

And of course you land on top of him – directly on top of him, with your kimono slightly askew and your clothed breasts pressed up against the expanse of his exposed chest, able to feel the fullness and softness of them. Your breath’s fanning against his neck as you blink and mutter a quick apology, your ascent ungraceful as you accidentally grind your thigh against his crotch, a small, nearly mute groan falling from his lips at the action.

He’s dazed, cheeks flushing a warm pink color and his eyes wide as they stare at you, even as you stand up and try to help him up. But he just can’t move – the feeling of your skin and body against his is too fresh in his mind, imprinted and replaying over and over as he closes his eyes.

And even the feeling of your hands grasping onto his as you try to lift him to his feet is sending him dangerously close to the edge, already feeling himself growing hard and his breathing getting labored.

He doesn’t say a word of it to you, only grunting at your frenzied apologies, not trusting his voice because he’s sure if he tried all he’d manage to push out would be a weak moan of your name. He takes you back to your home immediately, dropping you off in an uncharacteristically abrupt manner, only stopping to make sure you make it past your front door before he’s practically sprinting off, only able to heave in the deep breaths once he’s a good mile or so away from your home.

It’s only then that he finally lets go of the desperate, difficult breathing techniques he had to employ to keep a check on his cock, stopping himself from getting fully hard and only making the smallest of tents in his pants so as to not catch your attention. But as he heaves, wild eyes staring up at the sky, he’s clutching onto the fabric of his haori, knees slightly weak as he stumbles into the surrounding forest.

He’s in an empty area, and as he ventures deeper into the trees and shrubbery, he finds himself leaning against a nearby trunk. Fuck fuck fuck, all he can think about is the way your body was so warm and how you fit perfectly against him, as if your body was molded to fit his. It’s driving him crazy – everything feels too hot, sweat beading at his temple and his palms clammy. He tries to regain his breathing but it’s still coming out ragged, winded and sloppy, his cock so hard that it hurts, mind swirling with thoughts of you and only you.

And even after ten minutes of trying to calm down, Sanemi eventually curses, eyes squeezed shut and palm slapping the trunk of the tree as he realizes that the only way to get his body under his control again is to deal with the problem. It’s embarrassing, more than anything, and he quickly glances around the thickly forested alcove he’s found himself in, the daylight trickling in through the gaps in the trees and illuminating his chest.

With a deep, shuddering breath, Sanemi undoes his belt, the metal sounding loud in the quiet of the forest but slightly muffled by his breathing. It makes him bite his lip, flushing an ever deeper red color, but he shimmies his uniform pants down slightly, just enough to rest under the curve of his balls, staring with pinched brows at the way his cock is absolutely red – it’s swollen, almost visibly pulsing, so heavy that it only stands at a measly ninety degrees.

After a moment of contemplation Sanemi almost, almost tucks himself back into his pants, the guilt at masturbating to you nearly overwhelming, but then he’s hearing your voice in his head, ringing through and saying Sanemi thank you for catching my fall, Sanemi Sanemi Sanemi…

He’s spitting into his palm before he can stop himself, fingers wrapping deftly around his base and immediately flicking up and down, a mixture of a groan and a sigh of relief slipping from him as he finally, finally gets stimulation. His eyes close and he rests his arm against the tree over his head, leaning his forehead against his forearm.

He’s immediately imagining you – the feeling of your chest pressing against his, and images of times he’s accidentally seen you nude while peeking in through your windows crossing his mind. (And truly, they had been accidental – he’d looked away as soon as he regained his senses, blushing bright and running a hand through his hair, waiting for a good twenty minutes to ensure you were properly clothed before he chanced another glance.)

They’re so fucking perfect – he’s never felt a pair of breasts in his life but he’s sure yours are unbearably soft, that they’d be dense and squishy and perfect to squeeze and paw at. He’s biting his lip as he remembers the way your nipples look, licking his lips and even puckering them slightly as he imagines sucking at them, wondering with a particularly harsh tug of his cock whether you’d keen and sigh and moan.

His fist gets tighter as he thinks of the way your knee had brushed against him, balls clenching a bit at the idea that you’ve touched his cock, even accidentally and through multiple layers of clothing. He can’t help but imagine your hands wrapped around himself, fingers daintier and prettier than his own calloused, scarred ones, and his eyes peel open to watch them run up and down his length, looking crude and barbaric as he fucks into his fist harder, his hips starting to move in tandem with his wrist.

You’d look cute, he decides, when you jerk him off – you’d be such a juxtaposition, with feminine hands and soft skin against his masculine, thick cock, and the thought alone makes him grit his teeth, embarrassment and pleasure creeping up his spine because fuuuck he’s never felt this close so quickly before.

His mind snaps back to right before the fall, and suddenly he’s gasping your name and opening his eyes wide as the phantom touch of your fingers against his bare chest hits him, hips stuttering and sounds that are much too high-pitched for his liking filling the small forest area.

He’s turning around, back slamming against the trunk as he continues his brutal pace, keeping his fist stationary as his hips thrust and pound away, imagining it’s your pretty cunt instead. His free hand comes up to his face, the feeling of you grabbing at it and clutching your fingers against his driving him to press his palm tightly against his nose, deeply inhaling and sliding down the trunk a bit as he catches what he thinks is a very, very faint whiff of you on his skin.

His head tilts back, his thrusts getting sharper and more carnal, unconsciously angling them to brush against the top of his hand, where he knows you like best. He’s inhaling over and over again, smelling his hand like some dog, only pulling away to briefly lap at his palm, tongue lolling out and licking long, fat stripes across the skin, desperate to taste you, too.

He’s breathing hard, panting and chanting your name like some sort of prayer, the pleasure in his navel starting to build and grow. You’re just so fucking perfect, and he just knows you feel soft and warm and god he can’t fucking wait to touch you and feel you and pleasure you and make you moan his name and come for him and oh god oh fuck it’s coming it’s coming –

He nearly yells your name as cum oozes from his swollen tip, biting back the gaspy, airy groans that threaten to spill from his lips as his hips wildly jerk, uneven thrusts complimented by his abs clenching so tightly that his knees go weak, crouching against the base of the tree trunk.

He’s panting still, chest heaving as if he’d just run for hours, his face still flushed as he looks up, trying desperately to regain his senses. He’s still clouded by the smell and taste of you, and he only moves his hand to come clutch at his uniform, grabbing the same spot you’d grabbed earlier, squeezing at the fabric so tightly that his knuckles turn white.

There’s a trail of cum on the forest floor in front of him, white slowly cooling and smearing against the leaves, but Sanemi can’t find it in himself to care. There’s guilt settling deep in his chest as he comes down from his high, cock going pathetically limp against the waistband of his pants. He curses, closing his eyes and covering them with his hand, shame weighing heavily on him.

He’d just masturbated to you and reached the fastest orgasm of his life because of it.

It feels like some sort of selfish defeat, and he’s filled with self-loathing as he makes his way back to the Wind Estate for a change of clothes, berating himself for his weakness and promising to never give into his hormones like that again.

And yet, a mere five days later, he’s got his fist wrapped around himself again, fantasies of you bouncing in his lap like he’s just some toy for you to use racing through his mind, his composure slipping because he’d give absolutely anything to be of use to you, even just as something to get you off and discard afterwards.

It makes him feel pathetic, like a perverted, sorry excuse of an admirer of yours, but he just can’t help himself – how can he, when his every waking thought revolves solely around you?

FAVORITE BODY PARTS:

Your Ass

In general, Sanemi loves the parts of you most that are the softest and the squishiest. He’s all hard lines – plains of muscle that’s rock hard to the touch, scars that are ragged and bumpy against the smoother texture of his skin. He’s all hard edges, but you’re the complete opposite – you’re sweet and soft, and Sanemi naturally gravitates towards areas that really showcase this.

Consequently, he finds his hands edging close to your ass from pretty much the beginning of your sexual relationship. He likes how plump the area is – he adores when you wear shorter skirts around him, or, ideally, just the pretty, lacy panties he buys for you with heat on his cheeks and embarrassment creeping up his spine.

(Of course, he’d bought many of them long before he’d stolen you away, long before he’d ever touched you in any serious capacity. He’d seen them when he was passing through an adult shop on a mission, and while he’d felt like a massive pervert for it, he’d purchased a pair that’s a particularly eye-catching emerald green, white lace trim at the edges and a matching garter belt and bra to go with it. He’d been mortified when he’d returned home and stared at the fabric, the fatigue and adrenaline having finally worn off, but the mere idea of you wearing the pretty fabric was enough to get him breathing heavy. It was enough to get him covering his mouth with his hand, cock painfully hard because even his imagination of how your pretty ass cupped by the cheeky underwear would look is enough to get precum staining his pants.)

When he’s kissing you, his hands are resting on your ass, groping and idly squeezing, playing with the fat and very, very gently slapping at it, kissing you even harder when he feels the way you squirm and yelp.

He prefers positions where you can make eye contact, but the somewhat rare times he has you bent over, Sanemi is absolutely feral – he’s smacking your ass and pounding into you as hard as he can, his grip on your hips tight enough to bruise as he loses himself in the way your ass ricochets against his pelvis, the wet slap slap noise forcing him to get on one knee, mounting you even more, fucking you like an animal.

(And while he’s not the absolute loudest during sex, you’ll hear some of the filthiest, foulest things fall past his lips when he’s fucking you from behind – he'll have you in prone bone, breath hot against your ear as he tells you that ‘s fucking tight, you’re so damn tight, fuck fuck fuuuuck, his voice groaned and strained as his hips punctuate each curse. And his grip on you is tight – fingertips digging into the plush of your hips and lovehandles, gripping hard enough to leave small imprints behind, feeling like he’s clutching onto you, like he’s scared you’ll disappear.)

He’s not picky about your shape, either – you could have perfectly round, full cheeks or very little definition and he’d still be in love, his fingers still twitching and flexing at his side with the urge to reach out and squeeze, to knead at the skin and hear the way you’d yelp and cling onto him.

(Perhaps you’d even smack his hand away, embarrassment creeping up your spine and your flustered expression making him lick his lips, hellbent on making you come so many times the only thing you can think of is him him him. He always has grand plans to tease you, wanting to have you looking at him with glossy eyes and be completely under his thumb, but every time he gets you naked in front of him it’s him who’s at your beck and call, pathetically eager to do whatever you wish.)

He won’t try to touch you until you have a more established sexual relationship in place, which will take several months of being trapped with him to achieve. But once the floodgates are opened he becomes extremely touchy – he’s always got his hands on you, squeezing and groping and touching, and you’ll often even find that when you’re laying on your front, he’ll come lay behind you, shyly at first as he places his cheek against the soft skin, a hand gripping onto your thigh as he relaxes, too embarrassed to make eye contact but basking in the softness of you, in the peace of the moment, in the way you’re really here, with him.

He loves the rest of your body too, of course, but his natural resting place for both his hands and eyes is your ass, and he’s not nearly as subtle as he hopes he is.

(Not at all, but there’s almost something endearing about it – the quick-tempered, serious Hashira so blatantly ogling you, his lips parting and his nostrils flaring as he stares, almost unblinking. It makes you feel good, truly, flattered despite the perverted nature of his staring. And so as time passes you’ll find that you can excuse it, his bashfulness and obvious attraction to you almost flattering the longer you go without other human contact.)

His Abs

By and large, Sanemi desperately wants to impress you.

He lives for your praise, finding that the sweet words slipping from your lips are enough to leave him feeling like he’s floating, a sort of genuine joy he hasn’t felt in years settling into his chest, making him fight off a smile. As such, he’s very, very attentive to your reactions to his body.

Years of pushing himself to become stronger and battling so often have left his body riddled with muscles and scars, leaving him in peak physical health. And you’ll know this from nearly the first moment you meet him – after all, it’s difficult to not notice the little peek-a-boo at his abs in his uniform, the skin defined and often glistening with sweat.

He’s proud of his chest, and he has to swallow very, very hard the first time he catches you glancing at the exposed skin. It makes his ego inflate, something pleasant licking at his chest because oh, were you just checking him out? It doesn’t matter if you were or not – because to Sanemi you were, and that fact doesn’t leave his mind for weeks.

He’s proud of his abs, and quickly grows to love showing them off to you. He elects to keep a shirt on for most of your early time trapped with him, not wanting to scare you or frighten you by being half-undressed. (He doesn’t want you be to feeling pressured into anything, because while he would never force you into anything even remotely sexual, he doesn’t want there to be any sort of dubious fear or doubt motivating you to finally seek out intimacy with him. Aside from your kidnapping and the stalking, of course. And the way his desperation for you is so thick it leaves you squirming in discomfort.)

But once your sexual relationship starts?

Oh – he’s constantly shirtless, purposefully flexing when you’re nearby so that his abs stand out more defined, pectorals looking firmer, the muscles of his back standing out and practically begging for you to run your finger over them. He loves when you trace the lines of his six-pack, your soft finger dipping between the muscles and sending shivers along his skin because fuck, even just your finger is getting him hot under the collar.

Press kisses against the area, murmuring to him that he’s so strong and that you feel so safe with you ‘Nemi, I know you could protect me from anything. He’ll grumble under his breath but the blush sporting his cheeks and neck give him away, as does the way his hips involuntarily and imperceptibly buck.

Kiss further down to the happy trail of silvery hair leading below the waistband of his pants, the skin ticklish and sensitive enough to leave him sucking in a breath, his fists tightening until his knuckles are white because oh, you’re such a damn tease. When you’re perched on top of him, rolling your hips and letting him cup at your ass to help guide you, rest a hand against his abs and he’ll groan, the muscles clenching underneath your palm.

(Often, when he’s getting too close to his orgasm and he doesn’t want the moment to end quite yet, he’ll pull you forward so that you’re straddling his stomach, looking up at you with dazed lilac eyes, telling you in a hoarse, heady voice to grind on me, use me, ‘m all yours. He wants you to touch his abs, to feel your cunt scooping and rubbing against the planes of muscle. He wants to watch the way your face contorts as you catch your clit on a particularly raised section, maybe even on a scar, his orgasm slowly – very slowly – fading off but his cock still remaining starkly at attention. You’re just so damn pretty when you’re smearing slick against his skin, the sight wanton and lewd but feeling so very right. And later that night, when he’s helping you to the bath and diligently washing your body, he’ll scowl before he washes off his own abs, slightly pissed that he has to wash away the trace of you.)

He just likes you to touch what he’s so proud of, and each and every time you have a remotely positive reaction towards them, Sanemi is in heaven. After all, you’re looking at him, and that’s something that makes both his cock and his heart swell.

DRIVE:

Sanemi is, for a lack of a better term, sexually frustrated. He’s never touched anyone before and never been touched himself, and even touching himself is something he rarely partakes in. Every ounce of irritation, anger, anxiety, and stress is taken out via rigorous training and often yelling. When he feels pent-up he finds that a good, quick spar is often a more effective way to quell it rather than jerking off.

Not to mention, there’s something about masturbating that makes Sanemi feel even more lonely and frustrated than before – it hurts slightly to know that he doesn’t have anyone to be thinking of, that while he saves men and women with partners and lovers, he’s not quite like them. Hell, even a few of his fellow Hashira have partners, someone to touch them and hold them, reassuring them and comforting them when the nightmares of screaming family members and demons become too much. It makes him feel pathetic when he feels sorry for himself for being so painfully alone, and this results in Sanemi avoiding pleasuring himself as often as possible.

But of course, biology has other plans for him – he’s in the sexual prime of his life, and when he can’t quite seem to work off the steam with a thorough work-out or eventful patrol, he’ll begrudgingly resort to his hand. It’s typically impersonal, wrapping his fingers around himself and steadily jerking up and down while he closes his eyes and bites back his groans.

He’s not thinking of anything in particular – maybe imagining it’s the hand of some mystery woman replacing his own, but nothing more than that. It’s fast, too, the pleasure slowly mounting and then crashing through him, gritting his teeth as he finishes and promptly cleaning up, wanting to waste no more time with it. It’s all just so very clinical, almost – even when he’s horny, even when the frustration mounts so high that it’s unbearable.

And while he’s slow to warm up to fantasizing about you in a sexual capacity, Sanemi’s irregular indulgences in lust remain. Of course, it’s much, much better now – now that he has someone to actively close his eyes and think about, imagining your voice and your body and your touch. It’s infinitely better because while you’re still not by his side or touching him with your own hands and lips and cunt, he can still fantasize that one day you will, that one day you’ll want him like he wants you.

And it’s enough – his sex drive is still fairly low, and even once he begins actively having sex with you it remains on the lower side. He’d just truly rather hold you or listen to you speak than pin you down and fuck you.

(Or have you pin him down and ride him until he’s shooting blanks and tearing up with red cheeks and fisting the sheets so hard his knuckles are white.)

But of course, he’s only a man and those urges do hit him – enough so that he has a sort of system in place for signaling that he’s feeling hot, that he’s restless, that he’s mentally undressing you and planning out all the positions and ways he can get you creaming on his cock. His signals aren’t particularly graceful, either – it starts with him sitting closer to you, his body completely tense and every muscle clenched.

(He does this unconsciously, both as a way to control himself from just reaching out and snatching you, and also to subconsciously make himself seem bigger, to look stronger and more masculine, to appeal to your more feminine side. He’s not even aware he does it, and if you point it out he’ll vehemently deny it, calling you deluded and making some comment about how you’re projecting your own lewdness onto him, but he knows you’re right, and he also knows he can’t stop it.)

Then he’ll start looking at you with more focus. He’s always staring at you, those wide eyes never leaving your form, but now he’s doing things – again, unconsciously – without realizing that give it all away; licking his lips, adjusting his pants, swallowing audibly.

It’s all things that you’ll notice, and depending on how far along you are in your captivity with him, your response to these signals dictates whether or not you end up with cum smearing the inside of your thighs – if you grimace and shy away from him, Sanemi will clench his jaw, nod slightly and look away. He’ll immediately get up and leave the room both from embarrassment and hurt at your rejection, and to avoid making you feel any sort of pressure or guilt to give him physical intimacy.

But if you scoot in closer, clench your thighs a bit, give him that sultry fucking look you know he loves, then he’s immediately kissing you, big hand cupping your cheek as the other latches onto your breast, kneading and squeezing as he groans against your lips.

And it’s messy – the kiss is all tongue and spit, his eyes squeezed tightly shut as he presses his body into you as far as he can, desperation and relief flowing through him because the feeling of your skin against his is satisfying parts of him he didn’t even know existed. If you accept his advances, he’ll maneuver you onto your back, nudging between your thighs and immediately licking and sucking away, the loud suction noises making your cheeks feel hot and making it difficult to not squirm around.

(Something that strokes Sanemi’s ego but also frustrates him because he wants you to lie still so he can properly touch you. He can’t go at the pace and angle you like when you’re wiggling around, so he’ll just take a thigh in each hand and keep you steady, using his strength to pin you down so that you can’t move away from his eager, sloppy mouth. Because he wants absolutely everything to be perfect – he wants you to feel so good that you’re begging for him, associating him with pleasure, knowing that he can and will give you exactly what your body needs.)

He’ll make you finish on his tongue and only then will he start working his pants down, cock already so red and wet with precum that it’s a miracle a single brush against your cunt doesn’t make him immediately release. The sex is eager – that’s really the only word for it, because Sanemi’s grabbing every part of your body he can reach, hands unable to stay still because he wants to feel everything, mapping every inch of your body with his fingers so that if somehow you disappear, he’ll remember everything. He’s handsy, and yet his hips are absolutely brutal – he’s fucking into you like a wild animal, hipbones smacking against your ass in a bruising rhythm that leaves your whole body bouncing, every soft, jiggly bit of you drawing his attention and only making him go harder because he wants to see more more more.

But he’s loud, too – all kinds of curses and rough, uneven praises of the way you feel and how you look are falling past his lips, voice sounding nearly pained with the overwhelming amount of stimulation you’re giving him.

He’s truly pussydrunk in every sense of the word – so when he very unnaturally and awkwardly tries to put his hand on your thigh when he’s signaling he’s feeling hot and needy for you, just know that you’ll have a lot of difficulty walking the next morning.

That said, Sanemi will absolutely never force you into anything sexual without your explicit (and frequent) verbal consent.

Despite his rough-around-the-edges appearance, he’s staunch on his moral beliefs that sex is something intimate that should be reserved for partners who truly care about each other. He believes that it should be something enjoyed, something meaningful, something wanted – and so, to have you actively fighting him or not engaging in what he’s doing to you would leave his skin crawling, disgust and a new, different kind of shame seeping through him.

(Different if only because up until that point, everything he’s done he’s been able to spin as somehow being for your safety – stalking you to make sure no one bothers you, learning all your habits and favorite foods, clothes, and hobbies letting him notice any deviations signifying something is wrong. Hell, even kidnapping you has some benefits for your safety – no demon is stupid enough to enter the Wind Estate, and he’ll be damned before he lets any strangers in with the possibility of coming into contact with you.)

But intimacy is different – he’s not good at being vulnerable, and to be naked with you, to hold you in his arms and feel your hands caress the parts of his body that are deeply scarred and unused to touch is a new level of unguarded that makes him anxious. He’s so used to keeping up a pseudo-façade of being reckless and wild and in these moments all he wants is to let you see him raw, the real Sanemi Shinazugawa that wants you so badly that it physically hurts.

And so, if you don’t want him he’ll respect that – it hurts, of course, and he’ll have trouble facing you for the next few days, but he's man enough to know that your consent is key. But it’s also this crippling fear of rejection and putting himself in a position of possible weakness with you that bars him from trying to progress your sexual relationship for a long, long time.

He’s desiring you in risqué and lewd ways long before he’s stolen you away, but it’s difficult to act on those, to put himself out there and risk your harsh, painful rejection of him.

(And he’s convinced you will reject him, if only because despite his persona, Sanemi harbors insecurities about his ability to be loved. He thinks there’s something deeply wrong with him, something that makes others fearful of him and something that will deter anyone from getting too close. Besides Genya, of course, but the matter is complicated.)

And so, he holds himself back from making any sort of move in your sexual relationship – he wants to either have you bring it up, or to keep everything between you as strictly protector-protectee as possible, even if he craves to touch you and lay with you.

But, like most things in your relationship, Sanemi’s restraint snaps one day. To be fair, it’s not entirely Sanemi’s fault – months of repressing his sex drive and ignoring the tantalizing way you look in the kimonos he hand-picked for you leaves him on the brink of exploding, so pent-up and sexually frustrated that it nearly drives him mad.

The final straw is a particularly brutal, gut-wrenching mission – he’d been tasked to stop a demon in a few towns over, a simple mission that he really, really should’ve been able to fix much quicker. But the demon was smart and seemed to sense his approach, and the carnage was far, far greater than Sanemi was expecting. Small children stained red with parents dismembered a few feet away, visible bite chunks leaving the smell of rot and death heavy in the air. It left his stomach churning, but what truly sent him off the end was hearing a small sob after he’d sliced the demon’s neck, the little boy crying next to what Sanemi could only assume was his dead mother.

That in itself wasn’t out of the ordinary, but the boy’s striking, uncanny resemblance to his own brother Koto makes him stop in his tracks, lips falling open like a gaping fish. He’s frozen, simply staring like some fool, but then everything happens much, much too fast.

The demon’s suddenly swooping in, the boy’s head severed in the blink of an eye, a deranged cackle falling from the creature as a resounding crunchnoise fills the air. Sanemi’s thrown into a state of rage, immediately killing the demon and stabbing at it repeatedly. He’s cutting up each and every part of the monster (careful to avoid touching the boy’s head, though), yelling and cursing at it for what feels like hours.

By the time he’s done there’s tears pricking his eyes, and the walk back to his Estate is blurry and heavy with his own grief. He hasn’t cried in years, but something about the little boy’s face and the weight pressing on his back leave him with wet cheeks, the shoji door quietly sliding open to your room before he can catch himself.

You’re still awake, and he doesn’t even have the right mental state to be angry at you for cutting your sleep. He’s quiet, simply staring at you from the doorway as you wearily approach him, concerned and slightly scared because there’s blood smeared across his uniform and his eyes are bloodshot.

Sanemi? Your voice is weak, and you gently, hesitantly press a hand against his trembling fingers grasping onto the scabbard of his sword.

He swallows harshly, eyes locked onto yours. He whispers your name, voice low and hoarse, but before you can say anything he’s wrapping his arms around you, clutching onto your so tightly that your breathing is restricted. It leaves you yelping, unsure how to respond to the uncharacteristic affection, but the shallow shaking of his shoulders makes you soothingly run a hand through his hair.

Sanemi… You trail off again, but he only hugs you tighter in response. It’s some ten minutes before he finally sniffles, mumbling something against your clothed shoulder that you can’t quite hear.

When you don’t respond, he grips you tighter, pulling his face back just a hair to say again please, I need you to touch me.

It makes you stiffen in his grasp, and that makes him panic. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, I just – he stops, swallowing again and letting his weight sag against you even more. I just can’t be alone right now.

And maybe it’s the vulnerability in his tone, the strange, gentle side of him you so rarely see, or maybe it’s your own longing for human contact and touch that drives you to press a kiss against the crown of his head.

He gasps sharply, his grip loosening ever so slightly. You take the opportunity to gently pull back, grabbing his wrist and leading him over to your bed in the center of the room. He’s staring at you with wide, puffy eyes, shellshocked and unable to say anything as you grasp at the edge of his uniform.

Your voice is still soft as you tell him take this off, no blood on my bed, and he’s only staring for a single, long moment before the fabric is flying over his head, his pants quickly falling suite and leaving him bare aside from a pair of thin undergarments sitting dangerously low on the sharp v-line of his navel. He’s still looking at you, eyes wild and wide, his chest rising and falling so quickly that it almost worries you.

You’re much slower when you peel away your own sleeping clothes, leaving your body in only a thin, light-weight slip that makes Sanemi lick his lips. You’re so fucking pretty – it’s making something in his chest ache, his palms flexing by his sides, brain warring between the extreme emotional distress and arousal at seeing your partially exposed body and your desire for him.

You step forward, palm pressing against his cheek, and slowly pull him to you. Letting your lips ghost against his for a moment, you press a soft, barely-there kiss against the corner of his mouth. Murmuring his name, you feel the way his whole body shivers.

Finally, finally, you press your lips against his, moving slow and trying to let him relax into it. He’s still so tense – he wants this badly, but now that it’s actually happening he’s freezing up a bit. He’s dreamed and fantasized about this moment for months, lying awake and feeling pathetic for imagining that you could want him like this.

But the moment passes and he’s suddenly kissing you back, his movements sloppy and uncooridinated, evidence that he’s never done this before. But you take it in stride and pull back, the sound making his nostrils flare. He moves forward, chasing your lips, but you stop him with a lay down with me, please Sanemi.

And it’s as if he’s some well-trained pet – he’s immediately laying down, body tense and taut over your blankets, and he watches with baited breath as you straddle him, your thighs warm against his skin and oh god oh god –

He can feel it – can feel you.

You’re incredibly warm, the heat permeating through his underclothes as you press against his cock, the sensation forcing something that sounds much too similar to a moan to slip from his lips. It feels surreal – and when you start slowly moving your hips, grinding on him in teasingly slow, agonizingly pleasurable little circles, Sanemi’s gripping at your thighs, his self-restraint nearly buckling.

The evening passes full of slow, tender touches, exploring fingers and tongues covering every inch of your skin and his. The sex is soft, thrusts gentle and deep, rolling and pressing against every spot that makes your toes curl. He’s kissing you the whole time, grasping onto your skin like you’re his life line, a near-growl coming from somewhere deep in his throat when you take even a hand away from holding him. He wants your fingers tunneling through his hair, your leg wrapped around his waist, your nipples brushing against his own.

It's heaven, he thinks, and though he tries to hide his face as he ruts into you, the tears return to his eyes and before he knows it he’s chanting a slurred, choked mantra of your name, timing with his thrusts and begging you in a near-incomprehensible plea of never leave me, you can’t leave me, I won’t let you leave me.

It’s only after his hips stutter, a gasp of your name and his hot breath going ragged in your ear that he finally goes limp. He’s still inside you, the last throbs and bits of his orgasm rocking through him, but he’s carefully maneuvering your bodies so that he’s laying behind you. You’re caged in his arms – a heavy, muscular limb wrapped around your waist, body molded to yours and pulling you flush against him. He falls asleep like that – flaccidly inside you, his breath in your ear, his grip on you remaining deadly tight even as dreams overtake him. And eventually, you fall asleep too – exhausted, confused, and embracing this small, intimate moment even if you’ll regret it.

He’s gone the next morning, the covers wrapped up to your chin, the blankets and sheets on his side perfectly pristine.

He doesn’t mention that night for the foreseeable future, embarrassed and angry at himself for giving into temptation and allowing himself to be so weak in front of you. He’s worried that you might regret it, that you’ll find him disgusting for being so wanton and blatant in his begging for you, and he bars himself from engaging with you sexually again. (Out of embarrassment, out of shame, out of fear because god, he’s never been as desperate and depraved as he was the moment he slipped inside of you, and how would he react the second time? The third? The tenth?)

He won’t acknowledge that it happened, but you’ll notice the glances he starts throwing your way, the way his gaze lingers on your body, how he stiffens up the moment you get even remotely close to him. It’s a stark contrast to the man who’d been groaning out your name like salvation the night before, but just know that if you were to approach him, Sanemi will be putty in your hands.

If you were to kiss him or touch him or tell him how badly you need him, he’ll fold. He’ll get onto his knees, mouthing at your cunt and struggling to mutter out how he’d thought you’d never ask, fuck.

MAIN THREE KINKS:

Cumplay

While Sanemi will bend to your whims almost always in bed, there are a few very, very specific things that he won’t compromise on.

That is, he absolutely must finish either inside you, down your throat, or on your body. It’s a possessiveness thing for him – he’s in ecstasy and still slightly shocked that you’re touching him (and letting him touch you), but it’s still not quite enough. He’s licking and sucking at your neck, leaving marks and hickies and the imprint of his fingertips lightly against your skin, trying to mark you up as his his his. He wants to leave a physical imprint of his possession over you, because while it feels dehumanizing to think of you as his, he can’t help the way it makes something in his chest twist in just the right way, nor can he help the way his cock stands up at attention, growing hard just at the mere idea of physically making you his.

And Sanemi quickly finds the quickest, easiest way to claim you as his is to leave you absolutely dripping with his cum. He’s territorial, completely believing that you’re his woman and he is your man. It’s this possessiveness mixed with his obsession over being your protector that drive his compulsive need to fill you with every last drop he can give you – it feels better this way, more natural. It’s like he’s giving you what you desire – he’s giving you everything he can, the most intimate, sacred part of him, something he made for you and you alone.

And so, every time he��s got hic cock out and your kissing, sucking, touching, or fucking it, Sanemi’s throwing his head back and groaning, all sorts of filthy, dirty promises about how he’s going to finish for you falling past his lips.

He’ll have you on your knees, his thighs tense and his abs clenching, his hand in your hair and fighting very, very hard to not pull you down until his cock’s in the back of your throat, choking and gagging you. (He wants to – god does he want to, but he doesn’t want to hurt you, so he’ll stop himself. A mind-numbing orgasm with your hot little tongue pressed against his underside isn’t worth you being angry or hurt.) He's groaning your name and telling you that that you’re gonna – fuck, gonna take it all, yeah? Gonna swallow every last fucking drop, o-oh fucky baby, god wanna see you swallow ngh –

Your hand is wrapped around his girth, wrist flicking up and down so quickly that it makes him pant, your free hand delicately groping and squeezing at his balls. He’s bucking up against your tugs, a red flush on the bridge of his nose as he grunts, rushing forward to kiss you with way too much tongue, pulling back only when he starts shuddering, breath ragged as he tells you that he wants to finish on your chest, voice getting slurred and strained as he tells you he’s gonna come on your tits, god so fucking pretty fuck fuck fuck –

(He’ll stare with this sort of boyish look in his eye and something feral, predatory at his handiwork once he does, white smeared across your skin and leaving a film that he rubs at with his thumb, pinching your nipple and licking his lips when you squirm.)

He’s got you pressed into a tight, suffocating mating press, his forehead pressed against yours and his hands holding your knees up, the angle and feeling of you making teeter on the edge. ‘M gonna, ‘m gonna come soon, where do you want it? He’ll ask, eyes fluttering shut as you clench down on him, only to open wide when you whine out to finish inside ‘Nemi, please please please want your cum!

And it’s lewd and dirty and it gets him fucking into you deeper, hips snapping into yours so hard that you’re physically moving up the length of the bed, his voice a growl as he grins, groaning yeah? Want me to come in this tight – fuck, tight little pussy? So damn greedy, fuuuuck, you better take it, don’t let any drip out or I’ll have to fill you again. He’ll press kisses against your lips, jaw, and neck, his voice growing louder as he growl again between each kiss.

And when he’s right on the edge, his thrusts growing uneven and choppy, his eyes are meeting yours again as he gasps take it take it take it, cum spurting from his tip and leaving you feeling warm and so very, very full. He produces a lot with each orgasm, seeming to never stop as it oozes from his hyper-sensitive tip, and Sanemi uses it to his advantage.

He’s obsessed with looking at the product of his orgasm – he’ll kneel between your legs so that your cunt’s eyelevel and simply stare as his cum slowly leaks out, down the grooves of your folds and over your pert hole, dripping onto the floor below you and making him scoff. He’ll scoop it up with a single finger, pushing it back inside of you and kissing you to muffle the sound of your surprise, slightly embarrassed because he absolutely can’t let even the smallest amount not end up inside you.

When you’ve convinced him to be a tad bit rougher as you bob your head between his legs, Sanemi will grant your wish and finish on your face, groaning and biting his lip at the way you look, his cum dribbling down from your lips to your chin, dripping down to land on your nipples, thighs, other parts of your body.

 (And as disrespectful as it felt to finish there, Sanemi secretly loves it – he won’t request it because he doesn’t think you’d enjoy it, but he’s nursing a fantasy that you’ll let him smear his cum all over your lips and cheeks, and then simply not clean it for the rest of the day. He wants the physical evidence of his intimacy with you to be constantly visible, so that every glance reminders him that you wanted him, that you were practically begging him for his cock like some common whore. You aren’t, or course, but the possessive, animalistic part of him that desires rough, carnal sex with you is satisfied by the idea, something primal about the idea of leaving a mark of him him him against your pretty face. He’ll never bring it up, simply stewing on it in silence, but if you were to mention the idea, or tell him that you want to keep his cum really anywhere against your skin, you’ll witness something that absolutely mortifies him – a dry orgasm paired with a sad, shocked little whimper, the embarrassment and unexpected pleasure making him too ashamed to even look at you for a few hours afterwards.)

He just really likes the concept of leaving you stuffed full of him. (And there’s a small part of him that hopes desperately with every load he gives you that it’ll finally take. He’s always fantasized about having a family with you, but with each time he stuffs you full, he can only get closer and closer to the dream, the mere idea of you pregnant enough to get him hot under the collar and desperate to get his hands on you.)

And to his credit, this kink goes both ways – he’ll gladly let you cover every inch of his skin in your spit and slick, rubbing yourself against his body and licking at him until you’ve had your fill.

(And fuck, if you squirt? He’s wearing it like a badge of honor, pride and arousal coursing through him in such potent amounts that he’s nearly dizzy, nearly unable to function because god he needs to fuck you and make you do that over and over again until you can’t anymore.)

He’s just possessive, and while you might initially be rather disgusted simply by his eagerness and fixation on it, eventually you might even find it hot, too. Because really, he may be deranged, a stalker, horribly and uncomfortably dependent on you for his emotional stability and health, but isn’t there something so very sexy about a grown man moaning in your ear and begging you to please let him finish inside you?

Voyeurism

Perhaps it’s a remnant of having stalked you for so long, but there’s something that gets Sanemi so fucking hard about watching you pleasure yourself.

There’s layers to it – of course he loves the physical sight of you with your fingers stuffed into your cunt, tits spilling out of your lounging shirt, thighs quivering and your lips parting into that pretty ‘o’ shape that Sanemi wants to fill with his fingers. He loves the way you look all fucked out, pretty and writhing and gasping, letting all your natural sounds out because there’s not a soul around to hear you and you can be truly free. So yes, from a purely carnal, sexual standpoint, Sanemi very much enjoys the sight of you touching yourself.

But even beyond that, there’s something morbidly fascinating and addicting about it – there’s something indescribably intimate about watching you at your most vulnerable, those lilac eyes widening and staying transfixed on every aspect of you that he can. He’s watching like a hawk as you squeeze at your breast, watching to see if you pinch at your nipple or roll it, if you squeeze hard and hold it there or opt for weaker but more frequent squeezes.

He’s carefully watching your fingers, analyzing the patterns and shapes you’re drawing against your clit, how fast you’re going and whether you vary anything or keep it all consistent.

(He’ll even press his fingers against the expanse of his forearm as he watches, mimicking your motions against his own skin in an effort to practice, to learn by muscle memory exactly how you like to be touched so that once he gets you naked and spread out for him, he can be exactly what you want and give you exactly what you need. He’ll do this with the way you finger yourself, too, guessing at the particular angles you’re reaching for based on the way your wrist flexes, how your knuckles move. He’ll go home and practice this, too, using his pillow as a poor stand-in for your body and practicing thrusting in the pattern you seem to like, angling his hips to brush against the spot that always gets you gasping, buffing up his stamina because he’ll be damned if the first time he gets you naked underneath him is thwarted by his own physical inabilities.)

It helps him feel connected to you like this – easier to pretend that he’s the one making you moan and curl your toes rather than your own hand or the toy you’d purchased for yourself.

(A toy that he absolutely fucking hates, always glaring at it and scoffing because he’s sure that he could fuck you so much better – he’d get the angle right, he’d get the depth perfect, and he’d do all the damn work – you just need to lay there and look pretty, grasp onto him and moan his name and he’ll take care of the rest. He'll always take care of you, after all, and he wants the sex to be absolutely perfect, for you to crave him even a fraction as much as he craves you.)

And even once he’s forced to steal you away, these habits of peeping in on you while you’re lost in your own little world don’t magically disappear. It’s more difficult now, sure, because standing and peering through your window was always easier, always less risky, but Sanemi becomes too desperate and in withdrawal to stop himself.

His lucidity leaves him feeling guilty every time, but he’ll crack the door into your room open ever so slightly, having returned home from a mission or an errand earlier than he’d told you. He’ll peek in, doing his best to move slowly and silently to avoid grabbing your attention, and he’s immediately got his hand in his pants, gripping himself so tightly and harshly that it nearly brings tears to his eyes.

His orgasms are always stronger when he’s got you in his sight, and as he times his strokes with your thrusts inside yourself, he’s clenching his abs and shaking, hips coming up to thrust and rut against his fist. He’s staying deathly quiet, intent on hearing the sound of your moans and the wet squelching of your cunt sucking your fingers in again and again. And when he comes, he’s praying that you’ll finish at the same time, forcing himself to stop and endlessly edging himself just so that you can come together, to have something romantic and sweet like a simultaneous release.

(Of course, the aftermath of cum staining the front of his trousers and his upper thighs is less sweet, but Sanemi can’t quite care – even as it dries and grows cold, feeling slimy and sticky against his skin. He’s too transfixed watching the way your chest slowly stops heaving, how you relax and bask in the afterglow of your orgasm, how you idly play with your nipples and smile up at the ceiling, and if he tries harder enough - pretends hard enough, really - he can even hear you murmur his name.)

The intention is relatively sweet, no matter how deranged and creepy he may feel for actively spying on you as you undress, but he’s just a man, and how can a man be expected to deny himself the viewing pleasure of the woman he’s so madly, pathetically obsessed with?

But unfortunately for Sanemi, you’re not as oblivious as he hopes – you’ll notice the way he lingers at your door, his occasional soft, shuddering gasps not going unheard even over the sound of your own moans. You’ll see his shadow against the door panels, even seeing the shadow of his cock when he pulls it out of his pants, the mere sight making your orgasm hurtle closer and closer, even despite your shame at finding your kidnapper’s cock arousing.

You’re not blind, and it’s almost therapeutic to watch how easily he falls apart for you, the shadow of his back hunching over slightly as you both near your ends, the wet squelching sounds of his fist going up and down just barely audible if you strain yourself hard enough. It’s endearing, in a fucked-up sort of way, but if you were to ever mention something about it, Sanemi will immediately bristle, embarrassment crawling up his spine and his cheeks glowing a soft, subtle pink, entirely caught off guard and unsure of what to say.

(He’s mortified that you know, that he’d been caught, if only because now he’s absolutely convinced you must think of him as a pervert, as a monster, and it kills him to know that it’s true. And yet, there’s some small, masochistic part of him that’s almost glad, finding the whole situation so, so very hot because now he can’t help but wonder if you’d started touching yourself on purpose, perhaps wanting to draw him out, perhaps wanting to listen to him losing his fucking mind over your naked body. You naughty, naughty thing.)

And so, once your consensual sexual relationship begins, Sanemi is using every piece of knowledge he’d gathered from watching you to his advantage – he’s not wasting any time putting all that practice into use, curling his fingers and rubbing and kneading just how you like it, watching with wide, almost nervous eyes to see how you react, hoping that he’s doing good and making you enjoy it, enjoy him.

He wants you to tell him how it feels, to hear you say that it’s good, that you love it when you touch me ‘Nemi, and that alone gets him doubling in his efforts, frantic to get you to orgasm for him and only him, filled with a sort of crazed need to be the one to finally, finally bring you your high.

And as time passes, you’ll notice that Sanemi tends to bring this kink into the bedroom, too, even when you’re fully aware of his presence – he’ll tell you to touch yourself, settling across the bed, and slowly fisting at his cock, licking his lips and watching with rapt attention as you spread your legs, playing with yourself and humming his name.

But it’s not quite the same as when you were alone, though, and Sanemi will tell you to act like I’m not here, don’t make shit up or fake your moans. He wants the authenticity, the rawness, the realness of you fully indulging in yourself.

It’s in these moments that you’ll see the more submissive side of Sanemi – the small part of him that absolutely loves when you ignore his existence, pretending he’s not fisting his cock like a madman simply to the sight, smell, and sound of you. He likes the way that you’re not paying him any mind, completely focused on yourself, Sanemi merely a bystander and watching you. It doesn’t happen often, but it’s in these moments that his obsession only further solidifies, his feelings for you growing stronger and latching into him deeper, like claws that make him shiver in pain-tinged pleasure. Because really, he can only consider himself lucky and cruelly blessed for getting to see you like this, for being allowed so close to you as you gush on your fingers and pinch at your nipples. It’s an honor, even if that explanation makes you shift uncomfortably and try to ignore the reverent look in his eye.

You’re just so damn pretty, can he really be blamed for wanting to stare and stare and stare?

Marking

While hyper fixated on your health and safety in every aspect of his obsession, one area where he’s ever so slightly lenient is in bed. He’ll outright refuse to do anything that draws blood or involves hitting you, but there’s something rather tempting about the idea of leaving a trace of himself after he spends hours upon hours getting you to come on his fingers and cock.

He likes the reminder that he’d been able to pleasure you, the feeling enough to get you moaning and clawing at his back and whining his name. And so, Sanemi develops a liking for leaving all sorts of hickeys and love bites all over your body.

He’s passionate when he fucks you, leaving kisses on every inch of skin he can reach and grasping onto you tightly enough that sometimes bruises appear.

(And he feels guilty for it, in the beginning, always scowling when he sees them the next day. But alongside the guilt there’s something good – something that makes him smug, pride settling in his gut because those are his fingermarks on your body, showing that he attends to your more intimate needs. Reminding him that you let him attend to those needs – that you let him kiss and hold you, that you let him squeeze and grope at your skin, that you let him spread your legs and push himself inside until he’s filling every possible inch of you, connected with you in the most raw, natural way. It’s romantic, almost, and it makes Sanemi squirm slightly just thinking about it because oh fuck, now he’s hard again and really you should take some accountability for showing off your collarbone and the barrage of hickeys like that…)

He’s not picky about where or how he does it, either – what you’ll mostly be covered in are hickeys, the dark spots dancing in patterns all along your neck, shoulders, collarbone, inner thighs, and even your stomach and ass. His favorite is your neck, though. He likes the way you get all breathless when he kisses and sucks and licks at the skin, the sensations making your breath go light and airy against his ear, the harsh puffs of air blowing against the tufts of white hair on his head.

And he’ll leave all over your neck – at the juncture at your jaw, sucking a few right below your ear.

(He’ll take a few moments to lightly nibble and bite at your earlobe, liking the way you whine his name and tell him to stop being weird, but it’s endearing, the way you clearly like it and are just saying that to keep up images. Silly girl.)

He’ll flutter kisses along the column of your neck, tracing your windpipe and smiling against your skin when you swallow heavily. He’ll suck dark hickeys into the flesh of your shoulders, the soft slope the perfect canvas for him to leave littered with his marks. Sometimes he’ll randomly pick spots, the final result looking a little unorganized but still enough to make his heart swell and his breathing to get heavier. Other times he’ll very strategically place them – spelling out an ‘s’ character or a heart or something sappy that leaves him feeling a bit embarrassed but he just can’t help it.

Your neck is his favorite because of the intimacy and the difficulty of hiding the particularly high ones, but your inner thighs are a very close second. When he settles onto his stomach and spreads your legs, mouth hovering over your cunt and his warm breath making you twitch, he’ll take his time kissing up the space from your knee to your pelvis, taking the skin between his teeth and lightly nibbling, pressing dark sucks against the area and loving the way you squirm underneath his rather harsh grip on your thighs.

He’s a tease once he grows confident in the fact that you crave intimacy with him, loving the way you get desperate and beg him to give you what he knows you need. (He’d watched you with enough consistency and thoroughness for all those months before stealing you away and now he knows your tells – the way your face looks, how you sound, how your body jerks and shakes, hell, even the way you smell when you get close.)

He’ll push you right up to the edge, fingers working magic in a come hither motion against that spongey spot inside of you that makes your whole body tense in pleasure, all while his thumb is rubbing circles at your clit that leave you bucking your hips and chanting out his name. He’ll get you right there, then pull back, going back to your inner thigh and working on a fresh, new hickey, the loss of stimulation making you pout and whine for him to touch you again.

He’ll only roll his eyes, pulling back with a loud thwap noise as the suction breaks, your slick still visible on his lips, chin, and cheeks. So demanding, he’ll start, sending a sharp brush of his fingers over your clit that gets you gasping.

He’ll hold out for a while longer, milking out the way you plead with him, before he’ll eventually give in and get back to your neglected cunt, bringing you to your high and rutting at the bed below him with the way you writhe and cry out. And for the next few days, every time he sees that particular hickey he’s suddenly way too red, sweaty and panting and growing more desperate by the second to give you more more more, wanting your whole body to be evidence of his presence in both your life and your bed.

And he’ll proudly wear any marks you make on his body, too – leave hickeys and love bites against his skin and he’ll only shiver and let his eyes roll to the back of his head. He’ll encourage you to run your nails down the expanse of his back when he’s got you in missionary or a press, growling your name as his hips fuck into you harder, faster, with more intent and purpose.

(And later, when he’s dressing himself and happens to see himself in a mirror, he can only gulp, thumb tracing along the scratch marks and blemishes left behind from you. It makes him giddy, often absentmindedly running a finger over them while he travels to missions, during pointless conversation, during times when he’s away on a mission and starting to think himself into a panic about how you’re doing, if you’re safe, if you’ve escaped him somehow. It calms him and only kindles his feelings for you, the knowledge of you willingly leaving your mark on him enough to get him licking his lips and palming himself over his pants, trying to restrain himself so that he can get you to leave newer, fresher marks.)

He just likes the idea, and while he’d never bite you hard enough to cause genuine pain or give you a hickey so deep that it hurt, he will be marking you from head to toe so that everyone you come into contact with (no one besides him, really, but that’s besides the point) cannot deny that you are Sanemi Shinazugawa’s woman.

OTHER NOTABLE KINKS INCLUDE:

Slapping

But in a very, very specific way – Sanemi treasures you, idolizing and worshipping you to the point of self-loathing, and consequently he’s not terribly mean in bed. Once a steady sexual relationship is established between the two of you, he’ll get more vocal and adventurous, adapting to what you like.

(And he’s willing to do just about anything you want of him sexually – he’ll get on his knees and kiss up your thighs, lapping and sucking at your cunt until you have to physically push him off of you, slick smeared across his lips, cheeks, and chin while he stares up at you, equal parts hazed and irritated that you’d pulled him away. He’ll let you climb on top of him, pinning his wrists above his head and letting you play with his cock until he’s near tears, the edging and phantom touches making him grit and groan, desperation eating away at him because your touch feels so good but oh – it’s the attention you’re giving to him that ultimately makes him paint your fist white.)

And though he’s not naturally inclined to be degrading towards you during sex, there’s one stark exception – that is, there’s something that makes the possessiveness and territorial feelings Sanemi harbors for you flare up when he smacks you with his cock. Nothing too hard, of course – the intention isn’t to hurt you or bruise you, but rather it’s like staking his claim on you.

It’s like showing you that you belong to him – he’ll grip himself at the base, biting his lip and flexing his arm as he shifts his weight, hovering over you and smacking his fat, soaked tip against your pretty, puffy clit, stifling a groan at the way you jerk at the contact.

He’s smacking himself against your folds, the wet and tacky noise making his fingers tighten against the pillow under your head, his breath getting heavier because fuck, you look so damn pretty underneath him like this, reactive to his cock even when it’s not inside of you.

He’s tracing his tip against your lips when you’re on your knees for him, whispered chants of your name falling from his lips as he lightly taps his tip against your cheeks, your lips, your outstretched tongue.

(And, after he smacks himself against your tongue, if you smile and giggle ever so slightly? Well, don’t be surprised when he stiffens up, his orgasm crashing through him after a mere minute of your hot, wet mouth around him. Don’t be surprised when he starts cursing and murmuring things under his breath right on the brink of his high, your name mixing with gravely I love you’s as he gives you rope after rope after rope of his cum, hot and potent and made with only you in mind.)

He just likes the physical action of it, the way that even something so small gives him the slightest bit of acknowledgement that you’re his, that you’re here and touching him and looking at him just as he’s been fantasizing of for so long. It’s hot, he thinks, and while he’d be extremely reluctant to actually hit you during sex, he’s rubbing and smacking his cock against every inch of your body that he can – your face, your ass, your tits (he especially loves to rub his cum-soaked tip against your nipples, watching as they get hard and get glossy in the candlelight), your thighs, hell, even your arms.

He wants to claim every part of you, and so between covering you in his cum and the imprint of his cock, you’ll be fully and utterly his.

Spitting

Again, it’s a possessive thing – tying into his desire to mark you as his and only his, Sanemi grows a penchant for spitting. It’s something he harshly avoids when you first begin your intimate relationship, finding the act too disrespectful and frankly gross to partake in. He’s worried you’ll find it derogatory and that you’ll see him as some misogynistic freak who views you as his property.

(Which is, in some ways, ever so slightly true – he does see you as his, but it’s reciprocal. You’re his just as much as he’s yours, and if you want to think about in such a crude, black-and-white way, then yes – he sees you as his property. But he’s your property, too, if it makes you feel any better.)

And frankly, he won’t bother indulging in the kink unless you initially bring it up – he’s too tied down to this philosophy and he doesn’t want to risk you getting disgusted or turned off when he’s touching you.

But if you bring it up and use a lot of ‘please’ and compliments, Sanemi will cave.

It’s awkward the first few times, hovering over you and perched on his elbows, nose scrunching slightly because he’s not sure how to do this in a way he thinks will be sexy for you. He wants to live up to your fantasy, so he presses his tongue against the roof of his mouth, collecting the saliva, before puckering his lips, letting the glob fall with a rather obnoxious noise.

Your mouth’s already open for him, tongue lightly sticking out and your eyes half-lidded with lust, and the mere sight alone makes Sanemi gulp, scared he might accidentally drool into your mouth.

(Though, perhaps you’d like that – you’re a freak, he thinks, but it still makes his cheeks feel hot, his cock jumping against your thigh, his Adam’s apple harshly bobbing.)

It’s in the moment when he watches his spit land on your tongue, pretty lips closing and the swallowing motion you make exaggerated and loud. He’ll pause, staring down at your lips in a daze, before suddenly telling you to do that again, the sight so strangely erotic that he needs to do it again and again and again.

It strokes something in his ego – some sort of feeling of dominance and claim on you, marking his territory by making sure you’ve got a little piece of him in you. Soon he’s cupping your jaw every time your clothes get stripped off, forcing your lips to open and immediately spitting onto your tongue, watching with hazy eyes and a small smirk as you obediently swallow, the sight never failing to get him even more eager to spread your legs and sink inside of you.

It gets to the point where it even becomes a non-sexual thing sometimes – it feels too good to be showing such an obvious sign of claim on you that he’ll slowly kiss you in the mornings, your soft lips and little sighs making him light-headed. He’ll pull back, his morning voice hoarse and gravely as he tells you to open up, immediately spitting into your open mouth and following it up with a few kisses against your jaw, a murmur of good morning.

He likes to start the day with it because it puts him into a good mood – a light, peaceful one, quelling the jealous, anxious worry that you’ll leave him, that you’ll be snatched up by another man, that you hate him.

And his fixation for spitting doesn’t just end at your mouth – he’ll spit onto your cunt when he’s kneeling between your legs, two thick fingers rubbing the fluid against your pretty folds, taking extra care to let it lubricate his fingertips before he presses quick, steady little circles against your clit.

He’ll spit into his own hand, coating his fingers and slowly pressing them into you, grunting at the way you gasp out and tighten impossibly around them. It’s lubrication, he thinks, and the idea of his saliva being in your pussy makes him shiver, the thought so dirty and taboo and so very good.

And he’d be happy if you wanted to return the favor – he’ll look at you expectantly, irritation evident in his gaze, before he sits down and forces you to stand over him, his own mouth open and awaiting. He likes it for all the same reasons, just reversed – he likes the idea of you wanting to stake your claim on him. He wants to feel wanted and cherished by you, and if you were to spit into his mouth it’d be direct evidence that you want him, at least in a sexual capacity.

It’s thrilling, frankly, and it leaves Sanemi eagerly swallowing, immediately attacking you with passionate, needy kisses and wandering hands that swiftly find purchase in groping at your ass.

He just thinks it’s romantic, and he’ll do everything in his power to win points with you. Anything to get you liking him more, craving him more.

BIGGEST FANTASY:

Despite holding status as both a Hashira and your captor, Sanemi is very, very shy about asking you for any sort of deviation in the bedroom. It’s a combination of things that hold him back – fear of rejection, mainly, but also embarrassment because he’s worried that you’ll think he’s strange for wanting to try certain things.

Namely, Sanemi desperately, desperately wants you to sit on his face.

He has no sexual experience and hadn’t even been aware this was an option until he’d accidentally overheard a conversation between Uzui and a (very uncomfortable) Giyuu, and while he’s ashamed to admit it he’d stuck around, eavesdropping just around the corner as Giyuu asked the older man what exactly that meant (only to very quickly regret it, his cheeks flushing a light pink and not even bothering to make up an excuse as he hurried away).

It’s where the woman sits down on the man’s face, giving him better access to pleasure her with his mouth! It’s quite flashy, and a good view, too.

Sanemi had been flustered at his words, too, but had spent the whole day struggling to get the thought out of his head. Fantasies about eating you out and making you fall apart with just his tongue and fingers had long been circling through his head, keeping him up at night and forcing him to wrap calloused fingers around his cock, holding the scrap of fabric from your kimono he’d managed to snag between his teeth, groaning and growling at the mere thought of what you taste like.

But this?

This is risqué, vulgar, perhaps even crude – and something he grows more and more antsy to try with each passing day, unable to stop his gaze from lingering on your thighs, biting his lip and imagining the way they’d feel around his head.

He generally likes sexual positions and scenarios where you’re getting most of the pleasure, genuinely getting off on the idea of being useful to you in the bedroom. And he finds the idea of being so surrounded by you – his sight, his hearing, his taste, his smell – enticing, loving the idea that he gets to spoil you by working at you for hours and letting you ride his face, all the while getting to indulge himself in all things you.

And he truly wants you to use him – he wants you to grind your hips against the expanse of his tongue, to let your clit press against his nose and hump at it. He wants his entire lips, chin, and cheeks to be smeared with your release, to have it seep into his skin and soak in so that he has a piece of you with him always, a reminder that you let him touch you, pleasure you, that you want him.

“Are you sure about this, ‘Nemi?” You ask, biting your lip and watching as he scowls. He’s laying down in front of you, clothes thrown off to some other part of the room and his cock already half-hard, flushed a deep pink color.

He’s cocking his brow at you, embarrassment creeping up his spine. He knew you’d find this weird – stupid Tengen, giving out stupid advice.

“Yes, hurry up!” He snaps, swallowing and looking away for a moment to collect himself. Excitement and anxiety eat away at his stomach. He’s surprised you’d agreed to this, given the way he’d very haphazardly and defensively presented the idea. He’s pleased, of course, but now there’s that familiar self-imposed pressure to make sure that he preforms perfectly, that you enjoy every minute of it, that you’ll be satisfied and happy with his performance.

When you still don’t move, his scowl morphs into a frown. He opens his mouth to speak, to reluctantly tell you that you don’t have to unless you want to, but your small nod and footsteps towards him snap his jaw back up.

He’s practically brimming with anticipation, fists clenched at his sides.

You step over him, slowly kneeling down and standing on your knees. You’re hesitating, shuffling forward but scared to lower yourself those last few inches, and Sanemi grumbles underneath you.

“I don’t fucking bite,” he starts, hands coming up to grip at the plush of your thighs. He guides you up further, moving you forward and forward until your cunt’s directly above him, a shaky exhale brushing against the sensitive skin of your folds and making you shiver.

“Now just sit down.” He tells you, squeezing his fingers as if imploring you to just do as he says. You lower down but still leave most of your weight on your own legs.

He inhales deeply, the sound filling the room and making you blanche, embarrassment eating away at you. Sanemi groans at the scent of you, the familiar musk making his cock throb even harder against the confines of his pants.

He’s slow when he starts – kitten licks against your clit and large, flat licks along your folds. His eyes are fixed on you’re the whole time, staring and transfixed, trying to note every minute, small change in your expression.

He’s steadily tonguing at your clit now, and a moan rips its way out of you before you can really stop it. Closing your eyes, you focus on the feeling of his tongue against you, his fingers pressing against your thighs, the brush of his hair against your bare skin.

But then he’s suddenly grabbing onto the globes of your ass, pulling you down down down –

“Sanemi!” You gasp, the sensation so much stronger now that you’re flush with his face. He’s using his strength to pull you down – muscles flexing in an effort to keep you still and exactly where he wants you.

Lilac eyes stare up at you half-lidded, the taste of you clouding his senses and leaving him eagerly licking for more, slurping at you with lewd sounds that only serve to get him harder and harder.

Soon your stationary position isn’t enough, though, and he’s guiding your hips in a forwards-backwards motion, effectively grinding you against his lips and noise. Your breath catches as the action and Sanemi swears he sees stars – you’re so damn pretty, and Tengen had been right about the view. He can see your face, feel your thighs around his head, and see your pretty tits from up close.

He’s gripping onto you so tightly that you can’t even try to break the control he has over your movements – he’s pulling you across his face in a rhythm that makes your breath stutter and your hands blindly reach out to steady yourself on anything nearby. It ends up being the wall in front of you, both palms laying flat against the paneling as you pant and sigh his name. His nose is pressing against your clit, the sensation only causing you to shake as he slowly builds up your orgasm.

He pulls away for the smallest moment, licking his lips and squeezing your ass even harder, kneading at your cheeks and spreading them apart from one another. “Use me, ride my face.”

You blanch at his words, doubt settling in your chest, but at the insistent tug of your cunt back down onto his face, you can only shakily sigh, taking his advice and slowly starting to gyrate your hips. The response is immediate – a groan of satisfaction from Sanemi, his tongue efforts doubling as you control the pace, smearing your cunt against his skin and feeling like you’re suffocating him.

He’s in heaven, meanwhile, tasting you with a fervor and lightly bucking his hips, the phantom ghost of your touch through his clothing making his mind spin. You’re so damn pretty and perfect and lovely and when you’re using his face like your own personal pillow to hump and fuck, how can he complain?

He can’t, which is why he’s groaning equally as loudly as you when you reach your high a few minutes later, your shakes and shivers against his skin leaving him drooling at the sight of your back arching, tits jutting out and your thighs clenching even tighter around himself. You’re so attractive like this – all sexy and adorable even when he’s doing such filthy things to you, and it’s the sight and knowledge that he’s the one making you feel this good – that it’s his face and tongue and cheeks and body – that are getting you to violently jerk and moan his name, fresh rounds of slick dripping against his tongue and making him groan tightly against you.

And you’ll be able to tell just how much the mental and physical pictures affected him because once he’s had his share – pulling four or five orgasms out of you with just this method – there’s a distinct wet spot over his trousers, seeping across the fabric and leaving everything thick and warm with cum.

But don’t worry – there’s plenty more where that came from that he’d love to you.

Plenty.

[askchuuyanakahara]

@fictional-men-especially-chuuya

(I'm gonna answer this ask in parts as it's quite long! I'll be putting my response under the read more:

(Hii!! I just wanted to say, when i first saw a post on this, (the most recent one), i was obsessed already! And since it was the first one that i saw, i thought, "i HAVE to know the backstory and binge read it from the start" and so i did! I love your art and everything so much, your storytelling, how you incorporate the asks into the storyline, you even reblogged the explanation of anon! (I js found out what that was) and i love how interactive you are, with your fans.. I cant believe id found a creator so........ AMAZING?! i dont know.. No words can seem to describe what i think of you. Youre amazing. I binge read from the bottom up, heh.. I didn't see the pinned post. But i dont regret it.

Hello!!! I'm so glad you like this blog! I started this blog as just a silly little rp blog for Chuuya but it quickly turned more story based as time went on haha! I've been making different askblogs since around 2017 and I don't think anyone knows my old blogs (which I think still exist, I just don't have the login anymore lol!) but I hope I am able to keep up this one for as long as I can.

Having someone like yourself, interacting and responding, is honestly the lifeline for these sorts of blogs so I really appreciate the interaction!

Plus, I am always an advocate for drawn rp askblogs as they were popular around 2016 but slowly disappeared overtime. I always seem to join things a little bit too late haha!

Since i also got to read the "#modask" ones, and got updated on your life. I hope youre doing really well today.. And im sorry for practically spamming your inbox notifications... I couldn't help. Youre amazing, and i love that. You make others smile, including me. I had jst finished reading angsty stuff and your au healed me sm.. Youre really inclusive, and help some other's voice get heard.. I also love how, youre the only artist i know that can keep chuuya from being ooc or fanon even though you took away his tendencies to swear.. Istg, thats a SKILL. I can NEVER dream of doing that..

I totally don't mind you writing into my askbox! I love recieving asks and seeing the little number pop up next to the inbox button makes me happy. It certainly makes me feel more human to recieve asks that ask about me as it's sometimes quite difficult to get people to care about the artist rather than the fanart, (although I am trying to do more original stuff) but I totally understand why this happens.

I'm not very good at writing angsty stuff but if I do, it'll have to be a combination of 'hurt/comfort' or 'angst with a happy ending'. Seeing happy stuff makes people happy, after all haha! (Plus, I'd love to be an animator for kids media so I suppose it makes sense I like more happy stuff than sad lol!)

It's always a bit finicky to balance between canon and fanon behaviour, especially for situations which clearly would never happen in canon. But I always try to think about how my Chuuya would act, rather than use other peoples' opinions. It makes it easier to be a bit more consistent that way (and you can always convey a message without the use of swearing! Not that swearing is a bad thing, I just personally try and not swear myself haha!).

Sigh.. I hope youre doing well, and you know that all of us love you. Take frequent breaks to rest, and stay hydrated. This is supposed to be fun, and not stressful. So dont be pressured to post everyday. We'll wait for you no matter how long you disappear for breaks, for holidays, for family, for work, and especially for yourself and your mental health. This message is really long, so i dont really expect you to... Err.. Read all this. But I'd be really grateful if you did. I feel like reading the comments and questions, youre not told enough how much you are loved and appreciated by strangers online. Heh.. When i phrase it like that it sounds rlly weirs lol.. But anyways, youre popular, and you deserve it. Although, youre not popular enough. You deserve so much more for making people smile. Its strange, a random stranger on the internet just.... Telling you how much she loves you. I love you so much, your art, you make me appreciate small things, because even just the tags, sometimes it makes me laugh. Sorry if i ever said anything offensive, or mean, when i commented. I hope youre doing well, your family's doing well, your friends, your job, your.. Pets(?) If you have any, and especially i hope your social life and mental health is good, or gets better. Im sorry if i come off as a weird and obsessed fan, but i just felt like i wanted to tell you what i felt. Thank you, for this... Sorry for the long note, sorry for the notif spam, and everything. Make sure to stay hydrated, have a healthy schedule, and not feel pressured by us. Ok? Thanks! We love you. And so does the fandom. Youre not just some outsideoutsider because you love slice of lives instead of slicing lives, or fluff over angst, believe me, we're a cornerstone of the fandom.

Thank you. Genuinely thank you for the kind message. I'm certainly not forcing myself to release updates so that this blog doesn't feel like some chore I need to complete and I really appeciate the fact that you are willing to wait for me. I also understand that you put in time and effort to send this message to me so I'm definitely going to put time and effort to reply to you!

Work has made me quite anxious and a bit depressed which has dampened my motivation to draw. But knowing that people are looking forward to the next update motivates me to continue working on this blog.

I don't think anyone has been particularly rude or offensive on this blog and honestly, sometimes things just come off a bit different than what you were expecting (especially on the internet!) so I try and not assume someone is a rude individual from the get go. But, I'm glad everyone here has been kind and understanding, it's made running the blog very enjoyable. Plus, I don't think this blog is popular enough at all to recieve rude comments haha!

With the BSD fandom, it tends to be full of theorists and writers (which makes sense lol) but it's nice to see that there's a place for me to write my silly little insignificant stories too. I've struggled with keeping up with the manga but that shouldn't be an issue for this blog as it's not really following canon at all.

And i cant wait to wish chuuya his birthday this month, and i cant wait to wish yours in june/july (sorry i forgot if it was 28 jne or 28 jly) and i also cant wait for updates or where this fic (?) Is going! Please do take care, for the last time, and stay healthy, mentally, and physically. *hugs you* and heres a little gift for you! 🫴🎁→🍪🍪🍪🍫🍫🍬🍬🍭🍩🍵🥐🌷🌸🌸🌼🌻🦋🦋🦋📱💻 And a little note 🫴✉️→✨✨✨ "get glitter bombed! And hehe. ❤ from 🇲🇾" And a boquet! like the one Dazai gave our little fashion icon in denial! 💐💐💐 or three.. Heh.. Anyways, its too long now. Love you, Hugs and forehead kisses and headpats for the amazing person behind the screen, byeee I'll be sure to ask more questions for chuuya!! <3)

I am also excited to see all the fun fics and artwork that'll be released for Chuuya's birthday! I hope I can create something for his birthday, even if it's not a big piece or anything.

My birthday is July 28th and I'm surprised you remember the day! It's a small thing but it makes me happy that you remember.

Thank you for all the gifts, flowers, and glitter and I hope you have a good day! Hopefully my response is understandable and readable (as there is a lot of text on screen and I rambled a LOT) and I thank you for asking Chuuya questions.

I hope that you, and anyone else who has somehow read this far, stay happy and healthy.)

[hug-bees]

Hi, Ariel! Thanks for your blog, your works inspires me a lot. Have you got any sources to improve rhythm and timing skills in animatic?

Thank you! Hm, I don't think I really have any resources on learning about timing- it's kind of something that I learnt on the go? I think if you're starting out, using a musical sequence is a great practice because the timing and rhythm are right there for you! Having certain actions and camera moves on the beat of the song (or mickey mousing it as it's sometimes called) can help with the visual flow of an animatic.

I use a combo of storyboard pro and iMovie (lol) when I'm building animatics. You can get really into the nitty gritty of adjusting poses to sound when you work in timeline mode in SBpro, but for camera stuff you might want to use a different editing program that's more robust like iMovie or Premiere. I think for timing, it also helps to know a bit about how animation timing works too.

You ever see animation that looks kinda sluggish? Sometimes people wanna try techniques like smear frames or make really fluid animation that ends up looking kind of floaty and slow. I think that a lot of beginners tend to copy these techniques without understanding how they work first- key poses are everything. Focus on what poses and actions are needed to convey what you're trying to show (walking, gesturing, etc). Adding in-betweens can alter how we get to those key poses, so fiddling around with how long it takes to get to each key pose will really alter your timing!

I may not be the best at explaining this so I really recommend learning as much as you can about animation timing through videos, books, etc. Hope this was helpful!

[thebreakfastgenie]

hi, I just wanted to say that saying “did I stutter” is ableist and there are a lot of different ways to convey the same thing in a manner that is not offensive.

I mean, I guess I see your point, and it’s not a phrase I really use much, I used it in that one post because I was trying to invoke a particular era of tumblr vernacular for effect.

My gut reaction to this message was “is it 2014?” and I think this approach went out of style for a reason. Let's talk about it.

It's confrontational and accusatory; it instantly puts the person you're approaching, in this case me, on the defensive. Did I do something wrong? Am I a bad person? I hate to think I've hurt anyone.

It's also not particularly productive, because you didn't explain why it's ableist, and while that may be obvious to you, it probably won't be obvious to the person you're approaching. Especially if that person is someone you assume cares about being ableist and acted out of ignorance, not malice. I'm assuming from the tone of this ask that you believe I care about disabled people, don't want to be ableist, and am interested in correcting my behavior. But if I'm acting out of ignorance, I probably don't understand what's offensive about "did I stutter?" as an idiom.

This confusion can foster more defensiveness. What you're saying doesn't make any sense! How do I know it's true? Maybe it isn't! Maybe I'm right and I don't need to reevaluate any of my behavior! This is something the right takes advantage of a lot; they take a true statement about prejudice, or a real concept like environmental racism, and repeat it out of context, "get this, now they're saying the sun is racist!" It works, because without the appropriate context and background information, the statement sounds nonsensical.

One form of helpful context is expertise--either a credential, like being a speech pathologist, or a lived experience, like having a speech disorder yourself. if you have any expertise you didn't choose to share it, and that's fine--you're under no obligation to do so--but it means I don't have that context either. You also don't have much context about me, and have no idea if I have personal experience with speech disorders or disability activism. I will tell you: I do not have firsthand experience with disability activism. I do not have a stutter, but I did do a couple years of speech therapy because I talked too fast which affected my speech. I don't think this makes me an expert on whether idiomatic references to stuttering are offensive to stutterers, but someone else you approach might think Well I went to speech therapy and that doesn't sound right! or My sister is a speech pathologist and she didn't say it was offensive, I trust her more than anonymous stranger on the internet! and conclude that they know better than you and it isn't worth listening to what you have to say.

Let's take the figure of speech "did I stutter" and its variations (the one I used was "I did not fucking stutter"). What does this figure of speech mean? When someone speaks with a stutter, it's harder to understand them. So the figure of speech means "was I not clear?"

When the 2014-era approach was at its most popular, it was often weaponized by users who hid behind a veneer of consideration for marginalized groups and raising awareness, when their true aim was to extract an apology. The confrontational tone was deliberate, because those users wanted the experience to be humiliating. They wanted to make people feel bad about themselves, because it gave them a sense of power over others. Even when they remained anonymous, they knew what they'd done and could privately revel in their glory while watching the fallout on the person's blog. Shame as a bullying tactic ran rampant in the Your Fave Is Problematic era. I don't think you were doing that, anon, but I think a lot of people associate that style of message with that kind of bullying and I think it's for the best to leave it in 2014.

Here's a conversation opener:

Hi. You may not be aware of this, but speech disorders affect a lot of people. Phrases like "did I stutter" make light the stigma around them. Please consider conveying the same thing in a different way out of respect for their experiences.

It's still a little jarring, because it's still an anonymous tumblr ask, but at least it explains why using that phrase is hurtful. I might still have questions, but now I have something to go on. My reaction to this might be Oh, I didn't think of that! If you think the issue is better discussed in a longer, more conversational format, you can reach out privately if that's something you feel comfortable doing.

In response, I will say this:

"Stutter" doesn't only refer to speech disorders, it's also a verb to describe something almost everyone does at some point. It's very common to trip on your words if you're nervous or excited and this is often described as stuttering or stammering. I don't think "did I stutter" is necessarily making fun of stuttering or stutterers. However, see the point you're making about how it could be offensive. It's not a phrase I use much anyway, I used it in one post because I was trying to evoke a particular tumblr vernacular from a bygone era for a little stylistic flair. I'm not very attached to it and I probably won't use it again. Thanks for pointing this out! We could probably all stand to be more aware about speech disorders.

[cripplecharacters]

so, the posts on this blog about facial difference inspired me to make an oc with facial difference- specifically strabismus and a port wine stain. she's pretty much become one of my favourite characters to draw and develop, ive taken care to make sure she doesn't fall into shitty tropes. however, i have had one problem- in the world she lives in, rebels like her cover their face most of the time. ive been really struggling on how to design her mask/covering in a way that doesn't feel shitty, and doesn't feel like it's trying to cover her facial difference. and i know that technically it's not as bad if she's not the only character who wears a mask, but i still don't wanna push it, if you know what i mean? so it would be awesome if you could give suggestions on how i could handle her mask. here's a reference of her for. reference, and some ideas ive had for masks. thank you for taking the time, and for this blog in general!

[Image description: Traditional drawing of a light-skinned girl with pink straight hair, smiling. She has a large port-wine stain on the left side of her face, and her right eye goes inward. Around her are three headshot sketches;

first shows her in a bandana that goes over her nose with "bandana doesn't obscure FD but hides smile + necklace" written above, second shows a half-mask that covers only the right side of her face, with "early concept, feels tacky, shows port-wine stain but not strabismus :(", third shows a domino mask, with "domino mask, do I even have to explain? No-go" next to it. End image description.]

Hey!

I think that something close to the second one would actually be kinda fun (no irony or sarcasm). If we're talking about a story where everyone wears a mask, having the character with FD wear one that covers everything except for the FD is actually subversive. I never thought I would say that, but it does feel like it is.

Not sure how strict of a design should it be, but a diagonal - her bottom right to her top left - mask would be nice!.

I tried to write down a detailed description of what I mean but it was coming out rather overcomplicated, so I hope you're okay with me doing a few demonstrative sketches; a diagonal and rather-silly option, an idea for the bandana with a drawn smile and the kind of tie that would show her necklace, and an idea for the half-mask but with an eye with strabismus painted on the mask.

So here are the suggestions. I haven't drawn in a while so my skills are kinda rusty, but I hope it conveys the concept. My personal favorite would be the first one - I know it barely counts as a mask, but then again, in comics it's common that someone is unrecognizable when they wear a pair of glasses, so maybe it's not as farfetched haha.

The second one would be totally fine by my standards, but I'm assuming that her necklace has some kind of significance in the story, so maybe she could cross it at the back and tie it in the front instead for it to be more visible (or wear the necklace over it even?).

I think that doing something like on the third drawing above would be okay if there are also a lot of moments where her actual strabismus is shown. In general, I think that the idea of a character with a facial difference wearing a mask just to paint it on the mask is kinda silly, and I feel like it would fit her character. But for something like that to work, she would need to have the mask off at some point. If you choose to do that, I suggest your first time showing her to the viewer is with her mask off, both for the usual reasons I mentioned before but also because strabismus is often used as a gag in art. For me, seeing a character wear that kind of mask with no context would be kind of eye-rolling - but seeing a character with a crossed eye put on a mask with the same exact kind of eye, go and join their friends at doing rebel things? That's actually something new.

I enjoy that your character seems to be on the rather joyful and happy side, I like that.

I hope this helps,

mod Sasza

[mysteryanimator]

Thank you for all of your shot by shot write ups!! I've always loved animation as a story telling medium but struggle to specify exactly why I enjoy how a scene plays out, reading your break downs is super interesting and helpful. I loved Olrox and Mizrak as characters before finding your blog+fan animations but reading your posts helped me better appreciate all the little details the writers and animators put into the show on a deeper level and it's wonderful seeing someone so passionate about their craft. You also mentioned it being scary to post your early thumbnail storyboards/in-progress shots for "Even the Iron Still Fears the Rot" but I wanted to send a note to say it's so cool to see your process and if you feel comfortable to continue posting them for future projects I would love to see them! Thank you for all that you do~

Thank you so much!!

I am still not a "professional" by any means BUT there's always something deeper to discuss when consuming/discussing media! There's usually always a rhyme or reason to why something is done, which (I'm going to start rambling) is why I personally don't fully chalk up a way a concept is presented in this medium as good or bad. Sure I may not personally "vibe" to how something was done in another show or movie, but I can appreciate the thought behind it. If it really bugs me, I internally figure out why and see how I would approach a scene to convey the intentions that they intended in a way that appeals to me and, if I feel comfortable, shaping it with the audience in mind! That also just generally applies to any body of work even when the purpose is to make something new I do haha. Either fan-made like my Mizrak and Olrox stuff, or not! I tend to find it more of a chore to get through work when there's a lack of direction/concept when I'm making things. This is why I struggle sometimes to do studies/practice for the sake of practicing OR especially when I know the end goal is simply to make something that is just a skill technicality list rather than something being made to say something. It's why when I do try to build skills, I end up with mini-projects. God Help the Outcasts is the most recent example of me trying to practice, but also make sure I inject concepts so I'm motivated to stick to it (I don't consider that fan animatic to be a mini project, but also it is 3 minutes, cleaned up AND there's lighting for some reason which was not apart of my intended to practice. I need to give credit where credit is due haha)

I don't like to label shows as better or worse because it can fall into black-and-white thinking if I don't word it correctly. When it comes to this visual medium ESPECIALLY in animation, there is no right and wrong- there are however there are rules to follow based on existing media throughout the years that build our understanding of how we watch any entertainment today, and once you understand them, you know how to subvert and break them too!

(this does not apply to hateful harmful depictions of people, places, and other things that are only used to continually spread a vile message)

Also thank you again, it means a lot! It is quite scary, especially with way more eyes on me now and I very much question my place/validity in all of this since I don't see people do this kind of stuff, but I'm very happy lots of people like you enjoy them!!

<33

[wavyskies]

A post that's very much related to a separate post that's been going around the graphic side of Tumblr. (To the person that made the original, this is not in bad taste. I'm just stating opinions of my own and opinions that others may have in common with me. I genuinely have no intent on trying to make you look necessarily bad in any way. The first half is just kind of me rephrasing the original post because I thought it had a good point, but that point got lost along the way.):

Make a pretty blog because: you enjoy making it, having one makes you happy, looking at it comforts you, etc.

If making a pretty blog doesn't feel like something that would be worth your time or would make you happy, then don't.

Just have fun and be yourself, there is no standard to meet and you having a "non-aesthetic" blog doesn't reflect on you. People are here for YOU, not your blog aesthetic.

That being said, to anyone and everyone who DOES have an "aesthetic" blog, that's cool. I hope it makes you happy.

And I hope that some people realize that making and decorating a blog, even if it's super "aesthetic," IS a way to express yourself. Art is self expression, fashion is self expression, music is self expression, even book covers can be self expression. It doesn't matter if it follows a color scheme, maybe that's just what you like and what feels right.

And using myself as an example because I'm sure I'm not the only one, I don't make my blog appearance for ANY of you. I'm sorry. It's for me, because it brings me comfort. I like having a pretty blog because it helps with my anxiety, I enjoy looking at it, and it feels more like mine. And also, there are so many blogs I have made that I find "aesthetic" that are on private. They could not be less for followers or status.

"It's just copying" (<- paraphrasing here.) No idea is original. Listen to me: no BOOK idea is entirely original. Every story has technically been done before in one way or another. Does that mean the author has no personality? Does that mean the author has no creativity or is just trying to seem cool? No. There is no such thing as an entirely original thing. But they we're expressing their talent and what they like to do. Let people have fun, let people do what they want.

This same argument can and does happen in the artist community, the writing community, and every other form of art. This is not a new argument, it's just a slightly different context. If this was applied intensely to everything, no one would participate in hobbies anymore.

I love everyone who doesn't have "aesthetic" blogs. I love everyone who does. And yes, some people with pretty blogs get followers more easily, but those followers have minds of their own. If they realise "hey, this person isn't actually all that great of an individual," then they'll unfollow them. A color scheme and some pngs don't earn love and forgiveness. It's all for enjoyment and fun.

Please do be yourself. But be yourself in whatever way works for YOU. At the end of the day, it really is just pixels. So the appearance of your things or how cool you seem DOESN'T matter. But take that again with the context of this post: the appearance of your things or how cool you seem DOESN'T matter. So do what you want.

I am very aware that this post is much less than perfect. There are definitely parts that I could've phrased differently, and things I could've added to convey the message better. But I hope you can understand what I was trying to say. Thank you for your time if you read this far, and if you have any comments or things you would like to add on to improve this, please let me know. And it's more than likely that I'm wrong about a lot of this, and this entire conversation is up to debate. If you disagree, then please discuss it publicly because I think this is an interesting debate and I would love to understand more than my biased stances allow me to right now. Again, thank you so much for your time. Have a lovely day. <3

[motherish]

Not to be corny or parasocial, but I am genuinely so happy for you and grateful to you. I owe a lot of my self growth to having followed you for all these years. I recall coming to you for advice and you helped me in securing my first job. That was a decade ago! I attribute you to helping me find out that I am autistic and have spent the last three or so odd years working through the shame and of spending so many years folding in on myself. I am nowhere near where I want to be, but I am genuinely so much happier. I enjoy things earnestly and hardly find any shame in just letting myself move through life with the unabashed wonder like a child.

The way you always gushed about DBZ amazed me. I thought, hell I could do that. Even if no one is listening! I started doing that recently. I sit back and let a screen reader read me the silly musings I write, and I have a freaking BLAST just enjoying my own company. It's amazing.

I adore your presence in this world so much and I find myself poking around here every once in a while, to see what you've been up to, what wonderful accomplishments you have made. Thank you for sharing yourself with us. I know you do this for yourself, but it has helped me immensely and I will forever be grateful of that.

First off, I am so sorry this reply is coming to you so late! I read this and felt immensely touched, but I also couldn't think of the right words for this message. Or something that I could say that would properly convey how this made me feel or what it means to me. I still can't! But nonetheless, you deserve a response.

I am reading this again with a smile on my face. And all I can think to say is "YES! YES! Look at you!! Congratulations!! You've come so far!" and you have! We both have! Look at us. Look at us!! 🎊

I'm so happy that you have found the things that bring you joy. We only get this one life to live! And we gotta be able to INDULGE in it!!

Thank you continuing to stop by. I don't think I'll ever stop posting! This site could be mostly abandoned and I would still be sitting here making little posts! 🤓 it is always nice to know that despite some of you not really perusing the site anymore, you still take the time to see how I am. 🎇

I like to document bits n pieces of my life, but it would be a lie if I said it was ALLL for me!! Yes, I do it because i love how fun it is for me, but I also really enjoy what blogging brings me, which is opportunities to interact with people like you. 🧩 Thank you for taking the time to send me something so heartfelt and kind. Thank you for sticking around and continuing to root for me and check up on me on this small corner of the internet that I inhabit. It means more to me than you could ever know.

[sharpth1ng]

Firstly, hello! How are you?

I just wanted to say that stumbling onto your blog was such a breath of fresh air however many months ago that was. The way you think is (sadly) one of a kind and the way you articulate your thoughts is even better. I'm grateful for your views on many current and seemingly never-ending issues. I appreciate how empathetic you are to the entire LGBT+ community because I feel like I'm starting to see less and less of that in online spaces. In other words, beyond your writing, I really enjoy your blog here!

I've always loved fanfiction but as I've gotten older I've gotten a lot more picky with my choices and therefore don't tend to enjoy many. So imagine my surprise when I stumbled across Debaser and found myself reading it all day and night, going through a range of emotions along with the characters because it's just that good. Imagine my surprise when I finished it and found out there was in fact a sequel, Wave of Mutilation, that was currently being updated.

I adore the way you write and the themes you explore through both Billy and Stu. I love how comical Stu is to the point where he often makes me laugh out loud while reading your works. I'm almost jealous of how well you convey intimacy beyond just sex. The little touches and whatnot that just feel so incredibly sweet and like a victory won when Billy allows himself to partake in that kind of thing.

I feel like, in many ways, both reading your work and your thoughts on here about various things has been eye-opening for me and my self-discovery in a way I would've never expected. I've always thought myself squarely bisexual and therefore there was no way I could be on the ace spectrum, but then I saw how you spoke about demisexuality-- how Billy himself experienced it-- and I realized how familiar it all was. Don't even get me started on the trans representation (which, side note, kudos to you for managing to write TWO versions of the same story back to back with 7,000+ word chapters, my god) which has given me thoughts about my own gender identity and whatnot.

This was much longer than I intended (sorry about that) but I just want you to know that you are truly the rarest gem and that I (and evidently many) appreciate you. Thank you so much for existing and being brave enough to share your existence with the rest of us. Take your time with Wave of Mutilation; I'll appreciate the effort in every word and letter no matter how long it takes. <3

(No "ask" in an ask? I'm so sorry omg)

Ahh thank you this is such a lovely comment 😭 to be honest I figured out my demisexuality in the process of writing Debaser, I've very actively been figuring it out as I go and working through it a little in WoM so I guess we're on that ride together.

I think this series has helped me explore a lot of complicated feelings I had about myself and my own sexuality, so comments like this are sort of my favourite. It still seems crazy to me that my pervy little story has done anything to help other people discover or accept themselves, like I truly could not have predicted that when I started to write it. If anything I was expecting an angry response, I thought people were going to cancel me for toxic representation or something lmao.

Anyway, thank you again. I really don't think I would have got this far without all the support yall have given me 🖤

[creatingblackcharacters2]

FAQs!

I go by Ice, she/her pronouns 💕. In case you had any of these questions, here you go:

1. "Why'd you make this page?"

I want to make the creation space- fandom to professional- more inclusive for people that look like me.

It is very disheartening when you really like something, and you see that oh! It's going to include a Black character! And then you get that character and... They're subpar. Especially in comparison to the usually white characters that have so much thought put into them. You accept them because you REALLY want that rep, but... We deserve to wholeheartedly accept our characters too, no ehhs about it.

I wanted to challenge myself, using my amateur art skills and my teaching skills, to convey to creators how that makes us feel, and little things they can do to more intentionally create their Black characters. There's more to us than adding to a diversity quota.

2. "So you aren't even a professional?"

I got 28 years of being a Black person on my resume 🤣 jokes aside, I am a self teaching artist. It's only been about a year and a half for me. My more specific goal here is to use my skills to convey a perspective change towards Blackness, not necessarily a "how to do". If you want to learn the specific how-to's of drawing Black characters, there are Black artists all over Tumblr and the web that can show you! I will always actively encourage you to go check them out and support them, it's a great way to learn as well as to support our community!

3. "But if you're not a professional, why should I trust you?"

Well, again, because I don't have to be a professional to recognize when supposedly Black characters... Don't look like me 😅. Or, in writing, don't have any thought about me behind them. I could show my 88 year old Grandma some art and she'd recognize the issues.

But also, I personally believe that if you start from the foundations thinking about intentionally creating your Black characters, it'll make it much easier for you moving into the future. I am holding my hand out as a Black peer to HELP YOU! There are professional video games and art pieces and projects out there with poorly designed Black characters. The concept clearly needs to be introduced to the people somewhere before a million dollar project is release 🤣 But I can't talk to the people at the AAA studios. I can talk to you!

4. "I don't think race matters/should matter."

Alas, it does, everything we do is affected by our beliefs unconsciously or not- but I'm not going to waste my time and argue with you. This blog isn't for you 🤷🏾‍♀️ this blog is for those who want to take that first step to be better, both as creators and as people. 👍🏾

5. "Do you support AI?"

Not in the arts. Learn how to create, it's very fulfilling.

6. "Do you answer asks?"

I do! However, this is a lesson based page, more than an ask based page. If I think your ask can be answered by one of my lessons, I'll refer you to that lesson. If it's an ask that's relevant to something coming up, I will answer it, but you will find more detail in the lesson coming up! I'm only one person doing this, and I can't answer every singular scenario. Also, keep in mind, if you ask me my opinion on something, I will be fair, but honest!

7. Will you be turning on anons?

Okay: right now, we've earned Anon Office Hours Wednesday 12:30pm thru Friday 6:30pm EST!

Most of this is due to the nature of what I'm discussing. Historically, these topics (and how race is relevant) upset some people, and it can get unsafe. Personally, I have no intention of allowing racists, or those who will take my advice in bad faith, to hide their faces. If you want to hate me, speak with your chest 😤👍🏾

The other part is that it is not a bad thing to ask questions! I did create this blog to be a learning opportunity. So long as you are kind to me and send me asks in good faith, I will be kind to you and reply in good faith. I'm also pretty sure I have the option to answer privately, so if you don't want your question posted publicly, You can say that.

If I get more questions, I'll update this!

[badscienceman]

Hello! I hope you don't mind me dropping an ask on your Tumblr. I just started reading midnight ocean and yk that thing you can do as a writer when you read stuff and you feel your neurons activate and your writing skills level up?? ME RN. Your prose is just so good on a technical level that it kinda blew me away, like I really thought you were a fifty year old fandom veteran writing fanfiction because of how experienced (lol) you sound. When I was reading i was like: "ooooh this person is old" because in my head old = good writers LMAO. Do you have any tips on how to develop a writing style that's as descriptive/poetic as yours? How to write good character and plot? Or just writing tips in general? <3

I’m so sorry I didn’t see this sooner! Thank you so much, you’re so sweet! I saw your other ask where you mentioned finding my writing blog, but I honestly haven’t added anything to that in a long time, so I figured answering this might still be useful. It turned long, so I'll put it under the cut haha.

One of the biggest things that I find helpful personally and have suggested to others who have expressed that it was useful is collecting fragments of writing that speak to you—those things that make your neurons activate.

I think there’s an unfortunate tendency for people to see writing and many other forms of art as something you simply produce rather than a set of skills that you have to learn and practice. And a part of learning for me, at least, is essentially a combination of studying and mimicking. That’s where “fragments” come in, especially if we’re talking about descriptive writing.

Basically, “collecting fragments” to me means saving specific lines, passages, etc. from others’ writing that stand out to me. Seeing how other people form descriptions (or other things, like dialogue) and taking the time to really focus on those details helps me then attempt to mimic what I like in those specific sections. It might be the flow, the diction, or some combination of elements, but I think this approach helps with identifying what specifically makes something resonate with me and once I identify that, I can more easily attempt to implement it in my own writing.

You can sort of see examples of that on this blog. For Midnight Ocean, I often reblog things here as #mo that would be relevant to it specifically. I put more general quotes and stuff on @bones-ivy-breath and use the tags to keep track of different things. Sometimes I’ll be reading and just send myself screenshots or type up passages in a private Discord server just for me to remember. Maybe just save it to my phone. Maybe write it in a journal somewhere. There are all sorts of ways to do it, of course.

Honestly, you can do this with a lot of aspects of writing, but I find it easiest with something like prose or descriptions. It can be somewhat harder to collect little pieces of writing that contribute to something like plot, that’s so overarching, but you can do it for things like characterization, too. Little things from your favorite books or any sort of media, really, that stand out to you as conveying character very well, like specific dialogue or maybe details where a character’s mannerisms are described. It can really be anything.

When I’m trying to focus on specific types of scenes I’d like to get better at, like fight scenes or whatever else, I try to refer back to pieces of writing that I think do those things well. How does this author convey movement clearly? How do they manage to maintain flow in this sort of scene? How do I take this and make it mine?

Of course, I don’t want to simply copy whatever it is for so many reasons. Sometimes, especially if this is an approach that just doesn’t mesh well with you, it might feel unclear how to take inspiration from something, especially if you’re focused on one piece of writing alone, without just ripping it off. When you’re practicing and writing something just for you, that you aren’t going to publish or anything, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with messing up and making it a little too much like someone else’s work, though. It’s sort of like when visual artists do studies of other visual artists’ works to learn. You’re not claiming it’s yours, you’re just trying to learn from someone else’s example.

It can take time to grow familiar with what you’re mimicking to the point you can adapt it into something that’s your own. Slowly but surely, as you learn from studying other’s flow, diction, or whatever else, it becomes familiar and thus you see how to not just mimic but make. As you curate your influences and make them your own, your own style will start to develop and shine through.

I think a good example of this is Haruki Murakami and F. Scott Fitzgerald. Murakami is heavily, heavily influenced by Fitzgerald and you can really tell when you read his work. It's something about the flow, both in the sense of how he structures sentences and the overall flow of the plot, though it's almost difficult to put into words. And yet, Murakami still has a very distinct voice and tone. He's very open about this influence, too, which I think is good for any author to be.

Fanfiction is a much lower stakes chance to do this sort of thing. You definitely don’t want to go around plagiarizing other authors, whether they’re writing fanfiction or anything else, of course! Hopefully it’s clear that’s not what I’m suggesting lol. But there’s room to be a little messier and less practiced in a fic.

There’s also freedom to even quote other people and give credit pretty easily due to the format of fanfiction, especially on Ao3. For me, writing a fic about ancient Greek gods provides even more chances for this. I’ve done this honestly countless times in MO. Both quoting to the point I do give credit (ie. I’ve put quoted poetry at the beginning of a chapter, then also quote it in the text; I’ve put in quotes from various ancient texts directly into dialogue, etc. though quoting an ancient text often doesn’t require the same sort of credit as modern lit, of course, which makes for more freedom) and just sort of loosely referencing other works (ie. lots of references to ancient Greek epics, poetry, and plays, and the sort of language used there, like mentioning “dawn’s fingers” which is a common phrase used in The Odyssey, for example).

As for characters, I think this can be pretty different between original fiction and fanfiction. Of course, there’s overlap, but making your own character and trying to capture someone else’s sometimes require different skills. My approach to characters in general isn’t so different from anything else, though. I often refer to other pieces of media and think to myself, “How did the text make this character compelling?” Sitting with questions like that helps me a lot, because it usually enables me to figure out how to do that myself.

I do think fandom can make it so characters feel detached from the text. This isn’t a bad thing, of course, but I think it can sometimes mean we forget that they’re essentially tools within a narrative. They’re entwined with the overarching story: the plot, the messages, everything. Especially when crafting your own characters, fully embedding them in with the themes and whatever else you’re focused on conveying in a work is important. It can feel, at least to me, very different than, say, taking characters I like from a piece of media and building a narrative around them.

Of course, people can have very different approaches when it comes to this sort of thing, and different stories may simply work better if it’s character-driven vs. plot driven, or whatever else. Some authors sort of come up with OCs then build very compelling stories around them, while some start with more of a plot that they then fit characters into. It really depends. It’s just something to keep in mind, I think.

Other than that, the basic advice you'll see from most people is true: Reading a lot, and a lot of different types of literature (poetry, nonfiction, all sorts of genres, from all sorts of places), will always help you grow. It's sort of like digging a well. The more you read, the deeper you dig your well, the more water you have to draw from. But also, you don't want to read and read and never write. Practice helps.

And I think it's good to approach writing a lot like visual art. You don't sit down and paint a masterpiece in one go. You sketch, you edit, you go little by little. You mess up, you try again.

If you find yourself stressing over a single sentence, always remember you can come back and edit it. Fresh eyes help so much. Another thing I sometimes think people forget is when you're writing something like a fanfic... you're not going to be "as good" as a published work, because that published work you're used to reading has had editors and so many rewrites! When you're just on your own, writing a first draft, or writing something chapter by chapter, there will definitely be things that don't get caught. Even if you have someone helping as a beta or an editor, of course, you're doing something without the sort of backing of a traditionally published author. Things aren't going to be perfectly polished, and that's totally okay. And if you're writing the first draft of something you want to traditionally publish, remember, you haven't had someone edit it yet. Of course, it's not going to be as perfectly polished as the final works you're probably used to reading.

As for editing, one thing that can help a lot is changing your font. As you write something, you get used to what you're looking at. Your brain will gloss over what it's familiar with, sometimes filling in blanks without processing them, that's just sort of how it works. So if you're writing in a text document, for example, when you go to edit it, change the font and maybe the text size. The shift will help your brain actually process it anew. Sometimes, if I'm having trouble, I'll even print out what I'm working on so I can physically write on it. Some people like to even hand-write whatever you're working on, especially if it's shorter, then when you type it up you process it in a different way.

I also want to stress I'm definitely still learning. When it comes to something like writing, you probably will never stop learning more. But either way, I'm no expert and shouldn't pretend to be lol. So I can only give advice as a sort of novice, I suppose. Still, hopefully something here is good.

I hope this makes some sort of sense and can be at least a little helpful! Thank you again for your kind words <3

[kiyoshi-02]

Holy cow, I just discovered your blog through that amazing ShinoKiba pic, and I’ve been scrolling in awe of how much character you can bring out with just one drawing at a time. Yes, it’s illegal to draw Shino’s eyes without a license, but you have 10000% earned that license lol. I also can’t help but adore your stank face Naruto and that shy little Kakashi hiding behind Iruka. And your Iruka!! You convey his empathy and (mildly harried) kindness so well. Legit, your attention to detail with facial expressions is the Most Wonderful Food.

If you are still accepting requests, I’d love to challenge you with a rather muted character: Uchiha Fugaku. His own loving wife called him “sullen and awkward” lmao. We’re told that he spoke of Sasuke often behind closed doors—one of Itachi novels even shows him crying over Itachi’s future—but those sides of him never made it into the visual medium. Which leaves a lot unexplored about one of the most complex father figures in the show. I’d be very grateful to see your take on this dude. Or literally anyone from the parents’ era... Honestly, just pick your fave.

But yeah, welcome to Japan!!!! Hope you enjoy both the grand sights and the cozy corners! Thanks for taking the time to feed us all, and I wish you the best with all your creative shenanigans! 😎

Where do I even BEGIN to express my appreciation to you for this my goodness 😭🥹

First of all thank you for all your kind words about my work! I don't think I can accurately express how much it means to me that you think so, I put a lot of love into characters expressions etc so to hear someone picking up on that is something that I'm eternally grateful for, you've truly made my week ❤️

LOL and thank you for the Shino eye reveal pass 🙏🙏I've also drawn maskless Kakashi more times than not.... I'm pushing my luck here lmao 😆 I'm also really really happy you liked both stanky faced Naruto and my lil Kakashi piece! 😊

My requests are indeed open and MAN YOU ARE INCREDIBLE, what a great fckin request damn, I'll absolutely do this for Fugaku and I can't wait to get started!! Also very happy that someone suggested an Uchiha!!

Thank you very much but most importantly THANK YOU!! I love doing these drawings so I'm just happy I can do some art for people and hopefully make their day a little better by drawing their faves :3

Anywho thank you again so so much and I hope you have a wonderful week ahead!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[gotstabbedbyapen]

Too Long; Didn't Read: I'm working on a trilogy fanfiction for Apollo and Hyacinthus called "Singing For A Flower" because I have way too much time :)

Too Short; Need More: For those who don't know (actually, I don't think anyone knows), I've been writing fanfics for a long time now. I've written for many fandoms, couples, and characters, but never in a million years I'd thought I would dedicate a portion of my life to writing a whole ass trilogy fic for an OTP I only started to ship in the summer of 2022.

How did I get into this?

Well, for starters, I've taken a ride to Greek mythology since June 2022. And as you may know (you must know if you've been sticking around long this blog enough), the myth of Apollo and Hyacinthus is my top favorite. And you probably know that I have lots of thoughts for them. Like, a lot. I'm storing too many Apollo/Hyacinthus ideas inside like an inflated balloon and if I don't dump them out soon, I will explode into a million pieces.

So in that case, I decided to write a fanfiction to pour all my OTP heacanons into it.

No, really. I won't even call it a retelling because it is not qualified to be one. Let's just say it's a high-effort fanfiction written by a foreigner who was raised and lived in a very different culture and always be more to learn.

Introducing:

Singing For A Flower

At first, I only planned it out as a meet-cute oneshot. But the short and sweet story soon branched out and couldn't be contained under 10K words anymore.

I want to write Hyacinthus and Apollo flirting but also having anxiety about their relationship.

I want to include Polyboea and give her a character arc about joining the virgin huntressess.

I want to explore Clio and the Muses' relationship with Hyacinthus, their mortal son and nephew.

I want to flesh out the other occurring characters who are in or related to the myth.

Endless scenarios and questions keep coming and they don't stop coming, and now I'm left with bits of prompts to string into one coherent plotline. There will be a lot for me to rewrite, add in, cut out, and more before I finish the first draft.

The "Singing For A Flower" trilogy will be written in Vietnamese and then translated into English (the VN version will be posted on a different platform, but you don't need to care about it). I can write the whole thing in English in the first place of course, but as with the second language, I can't convey all my ideas as fluently as in Vietnamese. When the English version is done, I will publish it on Archive Of Our Own and maybe other novel platforms.

It will take time to do everything all by myself. You'll have to wait a long time - we're not counting weeks or months, but years. But not to worry, because along the way, I will publish some (translated) WIP snippets to keep myself motivated and keep you guys up-to-date. So, we cool?

If you're interested in my planned Apollo/Hyacinthus trilogy and wish to see the final product, I admire your dedication - thank you a lot! And if you can't stick around to the end - it's okay! I'm glad we can be companions for a while.

Let's hope all of the gods above, my sheer determination, and an unholy amount of coffee will help me make it to the end of this project and not crash and burn before that!

[pinkysgallery]

Omg hi!!

This may come off as a bit late, but I just wanted to tell you that after reading chapters 1-2-3 of your Wakfu fanfic Collision in English, I FELL IN LOVE WITH IT 💖❤️❤️

Seriously, this might just be one of the best Wakfu fanfics I’ve ever read on Wattpad (AO3 is a whole other breed 👹💕) of all places and I’m so grateful I even came across it thanks to you on tumblr!!

I just finished reading chapters 4 and 5 right now AND I NEED MORE ❤️❤️

I don’t know how you did it, but you perfectly did everything right! You managed to properly convey some of the sadidas’ opinions about the eliatropes, you even showed an elite eliatrope’s perspective on their history (from their days back in the Genesis era to today), you portrayed each character so accurately, and you managed to fill up what we were missing before the season 4 finale.

Honestly, I think you’re extremely good at what you do and I love the way you had the idea to start the fic right before season 4’s final episode.

You make my day everytime you upload and it’s always worth it 💖💖💖

Thank you so much for even finding the time and energy to translate the chapters!! 💕💕💕

Mmm, ok, let me take a moment to...

Cof cof, ok, I'm fine☕️💦

Thank you SO MUCH for giving it a try to Collision, and for your quick review, it means A LOT 🤧💙💚. I've been following your neat blogs and reviews for a while now, and let's just say that I've been taking notes 👀☕️💦 So I can say that most of the development is thanks to your analysis influence 👉👈💙💚

I've been a little concerned about how the English version is being received, cause I still don't have much feedback there, and I've been posting the translation feeling that is not 100% accurate, but doing it anyway for that part of the fandom's sake, cause I wanted them to read it too, even though I know my English is not perfect 🤧👉👈💕

The Spanish version, on the other hand, is receiving more feedback (depending on how juicy is the chapter) and it has already 32 chapters that I've been writing and posting on the go, and it keeps going. So, don't worry, you'll have more juicy content eventually 😏☕️✨️

Or maybe in a few minutes... 👀💦

I decided to post the translation this way so I could take time to manage both versions, keep posting on AO3, keep making art, and post to my social media, while I deal with my real life and keep translating...

I'm fine, really👉👈💦

So your feedback and support mean to me MUCH MORE THAN YOU THINK, and refill me with motivation to keep up the hard work 🤧🤌💙💚

Thanks again for passing by and giving it a chance 🥹💙💚 Please do not hesitate to give me your opinion, or suggestions, that also help me to improve and defeat the creative block that I get sometimes 😅🫠💕

[bloggingboutburgers]

Hi, I know it's been a while but it's allo (autistic? unsure what tag to use) anon here again. I just wanted to say congratulations on the project! I showed it to my girlfriend and she was really happy, when it comes out we will definitely read it together. I am proud to see you doing new and exciting things, and I wish you nothing but the best in your future endeavors! You're doing amazing already and I look forward to seeing you continue on whatever path you want to take with your creative work :)

Sorry I didn't message again sooner, things in real life have been... a lot. I still try to check this blog when I can. Your art is still adorable, and I also wanted to say thank you for your comics about fandom and the stuff that people say to aro/ace people. As someone who is very invested in media analysis(TM) and fandoms, I have noticed some behaviour that is really weird and uncomfortable, and it's good to see other people speaking out about it.

Also, not to decenter your experience, but the comic about labels really hit home for me. When I first got diagnosed it explained so much about my struggles and why I felt the way I did. It was groundbreaking to understand that I wasn't just a broken person or full of character flaws, but that things like sensory issues were just part of being who I am. I don't know if you meant it this way, but I really love the yellow colour of the thought bubbles and the little flowers. I know some people say it's pathologizing or too restrictive to cling to labels so much, but it really is a relief to be given something that helps you understand yourself and feel so much less alone. I am glad you were able to find your identity and community. It's so cool that now you get to make those posts, and probably reach others!

I just wanted to pop in again and say I love your stuff, and it's so cool to see other people loving and engaging with it too. I hope you have a wonderful day/night, passe une bonne journée/nuit <3

P. S. I hope that's how you say it, I'm using google translate.

Heyyyy!!^^ Thank you so much for reaching out again and for all the encouragement and support! I hope you and your girlfriend are doing OK^^ And please don't apologize for not reaching out for a while, I'm happy whenever you do at all but it's very fair to have a lot going on otherwise! If anything I hope things are a bit easier now, so to speak.

Also don't worry about decentering my experience by sharing yours when you relate! I'm a big believer in intersectional discussion, I think people from marginalised groups could benefit a great deal from standing together to defend common interests, and if we can relate to each other's experiences in some way even just a little, although we know and acknowledge they're all different, I'm sure we can go a long way. So I sincerely appreciate you sharing, honestly!! (I'm also really grateful you liked the way I graphically conveyed it, that is a challenge in and of itself^^)

Again, thank you so much for all the positive feedback and support, and thanks for taking the time to add some French in as well, very kind of you^^

Hope you have a great day ahead!

[idolbound]

DARP Advent 2024: Day Six HALFWAY THERE!

Let's talk about INFLUENCES and ADMIRATION!

Mun Portion!:

1. What inspired you to get into DARP? Former RP experiences? Just a love for the games?

I first got into RP in January 2013 with my Miranda Lawson blog and the Mass Effect rpc. I developed blogs for my Shepard among other characters, but it was shortly thereafter that the hype around DAI started; while I'd try to do DAO on console, I found it hard so I gave the copies to a friend and then bought them on PC later. But I played Inquisition at release in a speed run to kiss Cassandra, and made a blog for her ( @ stabbystabseeker for those who remember). I loved Cass a lot, enough that I didn't care that I had to play as a man to kiss her lol. Anyway, that's how I got into DARP - I also had blogs for my Hawke and Inquis when I eventually got through my canon playthrough of all the games from the beginning!

2. Name one (or a couple) of your fellow writers that you think are neat, and why! Can be famous, on Tumblr, in your real life, on AO3, whatever.

I would not be here half as much if it were not for @milfyclaus / (normally @ sanctamater). Claire has kept going with me to write this ship for almost 2 years now and has single-handedly made me want to keep writing Meredith unlike anyone or anything else; and to that, Claire, your writing always captures such a unique voice interlaced with exposition that I admire!

3. Has anyone in DARP (past or present!) really helped to define or reimagine a character for you? Or made you rethink perceptions that you held?

Honestly, Elisa with @extravagantliar has really fleshed out not just Varric but Kirkwall, and all the careful intricacies of worldbuilding that go with it. I would also say honestly, Erran @thesxmmersword who may not rp Ser Cauthrien anymore, but they really took an NPC in DAO and fleshed her out so well, and added much more depth to another morally questionable woman, and we started shipping these two from a what if meme and let it go from there.

4. What other fandoms/works/writers have influenced your writing style and the way that you view writing and creative expression?

Honestly, I think I still draw on a lot from Mass Effect and some of the themes around moral decisions, and the weight of those choices, as well as fighting in the name of something or someone that we see in DA as well. Truthfully, I have not been able to read a lot for fun because it's basically my job to read while doing my doctorate, but I do love a lot of fiction that can convey serious themes in the body of its work. I have a book that I got at a vendor sale that I'm excited to read, titled "This is How You Lose The Time War" by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone.

5. Do you have any friends that have created a Warden/Hawke/Inquisitor/Rook that you've basically adopted?

I guess 'adopted' in the sense that we, as good friends, have made all our Rooks connected. I've talked about this on my multi but basically, my Rook's maternal uncle Jar has a husband named Alain, and together, they are the adoptive fathers of Chels' qunari Rook, Oskaar. Alain has an adoptive elf sister named Kahari and that's Ker's Rook. We are slowly fleshing out their family shenanigans.

6. What's a fandom work (writing, art, etc) that you think is super cool and you wish more people would see it? Share it with us!

Again, see the above point where I don't often have a lot of time to read for fun - this extends to fanfics as well. But honestly, I have a few ... m-rated fics featuring Meredith that have been a bit of inspiration to me in the past lol. (if you DM me, I will link them but this is a "we listen and we don't judge" situation).

Muse Portion!:

1. Who or what are some things/powers/people that your muse admires?

Meredith herself is always drawn to power; typically, this is in a political / leadership sense, as well as physical strength and abilities. Again, typically she will not care much for men in this role, but when it comes to women? She can admire a good swordswoman, or a woman in a political role with great influence. She will always admire someone who is career-driven, and seeking to better themselves, especially for fellow women.

2. Does your muse have a "hero" that they look up to from canon?

I think Meredith is very much a history nerd just as much as she is a religious zealot, but when it comes to historic figures vs. her personal beliefs, she will always hold Andraste as her most powerful "hero" to look to. She models herself after Andraste, after all, to look like her and to embody her sense of JUSTICE.

3. What legends, tales, or stories helped to form your muse's ideas of power and heroism?

Definitely the Chant of Light. Taken in as a ward of the Chantry as a child, she was educated through their teachings, and grew up entrenched in the Chant of Life. It is what dictates her life, and it guides her; those are the stories she turns to, to guide herself as Knight-Commander and beyond.

4. Conversely, what sort of legends, tales, or stories formed their idea of what a villain is?

To her, her own sister's story of being an untrained mage acts well enough to know that magic is the evil within, and that mages are inherently villains until they take responsibility for themselves and what the Maker has cursed them with.

5. Are there other muses in DARP that your muse admires? Or reviles/fears? (be careful with that second one and be RESPECTFUL.)

@milfyclaus Lady Amelia is her... (homoerotic) business partner (a forge supplying silverite weaponry to the Templar Order) turned wife girlfriend in their time in Kirkwall. @kirkwll Sioned has tested (and continues to test) Meredith's patience on the daily. and with our thread still in infancy, Meredith very much admires the man @tobebrutal 's Cullen is becoming. That's her son and Knight-Captain!

6. If your muse is someone who has companions or is one of the groups of companions from canon, how do they and their companions play off of each other? Are they friends? Enemies? Two dudes who'd cross the street to avoid each other? What are their most powerful connections within their "group"?

Unfortunately, Meredith as an Inquisitor is awful and most people rightfully don't like her. lol.