︵ ೀ mdni. satoru finds your secret sketchbook full of him and in a haste to explain yourself, he offers to be the nude model for your assignment ( artist!reader x sports!satoru / college au / wc 5.7 k )
satoru finds your sketchbook on the library table, left behind in the rush to make it to class on time. he almost doesn't open it—almost. but his name catches his eye, written in pencil at the corner of a page peeking out, and curiosity wins.
the first few pages are normal. simple shapes, little notes about elbows and shoulders, the kind of boring practice sketches he has seen you do countless times. he almost closes it, kind of bored. but he keeps flipping, and then he stops.
it's him. there's no mistaking it.
his jaw, drawn in a few quick lines. the way his head tilts when he's only half listening to someone talk. his eyes are on the next page, his sunglasses pushed up into his hair the way it sometimes is. you got the little crease at the corner of his eye right, the one that shows up right before he laughs.
he turns the page again. his hands this time. three different versions, like you couldn't decide which one you liked best. then his shoulders. the curve of his neck. a quick sketch of him stretching after practice, his shirt riding up a little at his side.
he keeps flipping. faster now. and then there's a full body drawing. him, shirtless, soft shading along his stomach and chest. his hipbones. the dip of his waist. it's not messy or rushed. it's careful. like you spent real time thinking about where the light would hit him and where the shadows would fall.
satoru sits down on the edge of the table, the sketchbook open in his lap, and stares at it for a second too long. he's not sure what he's feeling. he's used to people looking at him. he's not used to being looked at like this—slow, careful, like every detail actually mattered to the person drawing it.
he's so caught up in it that he doesn't even hear you walking up until you're right next to him, out of breath and a little panicked.
"satoru, have you seen my—"
you stop talking. your eyes drop to his hands, to the sketchbook open on his knees, to the exact page he's on—the shirtless one—and your face goes white for a second before turning bright red.
"oh my god."
he looks up at you, a grin already pulling at his mouth. "you draw me?"
"give it back." you reach for it, but he just lifts it out of your reach, way too entertained by this.
"wait, wait, wait." he flips back a page, holding it up. "are these abs? i don't think i actually have abs like this."
"satoru—"
"i mean, kind of," he says, grinning even wider, "but you really went all in here. there's shading. you gave me a six pack i don't fully have."
you try to grab it again. he holds it just out of reach again, smiling down at you.
"you drew my hands three times. why does a hand need three tries."
"because hands are hard, okay? that's not weird, hands are literally one of the hardest things to draw, ask anyone—"
"never said it was weird." he finally lowers the sketchbook, though he doesn't hand it back yet. he just looks at you for a second—your face completely red, your arms crossed tight like you're trying to disappear. "it's flattering."
you groan and cover your face with both hands. "it's for class. i'm not being weird about it."
"didn't say that either." his smile softens a little, more curious now than teasing. "but seriously. why me?"
you peek at him through your fingers, like maybe if you don't fully participate in this conversation it'll just end on its own. "we started a new unit," you mumble. "figure drawing. like, anatomy, proportions, the whole body. they bring in models for class and it's just—it's so awkward, satoru. you're sitting there for three hours trying to draw a person you've never even talked to."
"so you draw me instead."
"my professor said it's easier when you draw someone you actually know," you say quickly, like talking fast will make this less embarrassing. "like, it helps to already be familiar with the person. and you're a sports major, you're literally built like the examples in our textbook, so i thought... i don't know. it made sense."
"so you thought, 'oh wait. i've got a pretty handsome friend. i'll draw him.'"
"i did not think about it like that."
"you basically did."
but he's not really laughing at you. there's something kind of warm in the way he's looking at you now, the sketchbook still resting on his knee like he's in no rush to give it back. "you know," he says, his voice a little quieter now, "you could've just asked me."
"i didn't want to make it weird."
he raises an eyebrow. "weirder than it already is?"
you groan and bury your face in your hands again. "stop it."
he chuckles, finally closing the sketchbook but still not handing it back, just holding it loosely against his chest like he's claimed it now. "so what's the assignment actually for? like what's due."
you hesitate. this is the part you really didn't want to get into. "it's, um. it's a full figure study. like, a finished piece, not just sketches."
"okay. so like what you already drew?"
"kind of. except—" you stop, feeling your face heat up all over again.
"except what?"
you sigh, giving up on hiding it. "it has to be a nude study. that's the whole point of the unit. like, the body without clothes, the way the muscles and proportions actually work without fabric getting in the way."
his eyebrows go up, surprised, but he doesn't say anything teasing this time, just listens.
"and everyone else in class already has their reference done," you continue, the words spilling out faster now that you've started. "they've all been going to the model sessions for weeks. i missed like three of them and now i'm behind. i don't have anything to actually work from, and it's due monday, and i don't know what i'm gonna do."
he's quiet for a second, turning the sketchbook over in his hands like he's thinking. then he shrugs, easy, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "so draw me."
you blink at him. "what?"
"draw me," he says again, like he's repeating himself for someone a little slow. "for the assignment."
"satoru, i don't think you understand what i just said—"
"i understood it fine." he leans back against the table, arms crossed now, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "you need a body to draw. i have a body. solves your problem."
"that's not— you don't have to do that."
"you didn't ask. i offered."
"satoru."
"what? you already drew me shirtless without even asking," he points out, smirking. "feels like i should at least get a say in it this time."
your mouth opens and then closes again, no actual argument coming to mind.
"so," he says, holding the sketchbook out to you now, finally, "when do you want me."
you stare at him for a long moment, waiting for the joke to land, for him to laugh and say he's kidding. it doesn't come. he just watches you, sketchbook held out between you, patient in a way that's almost worse than if he were still teasing.
"you're serious," you finally say.
"dead serious." he wiggles the sketchbook a little, like he's reminding you it's still there, still yours to take. "i mean, unless you don't want it to be me. i get it if that's weird."
"it's not that i don't want it to be you," you say quickly, before you can think better of it, and then immediately wish you could take the sentence back the second you hear how it sounds out loud.
his grin widens. "oh?"
"shut up. you know what i mean." you finally take the sketchbook from him, hugging it to your chest like it might protect you from the rest of this conversation. "i just don't want you to feel like you have to. it's a big ask."
"could just say thank you, you know." he checks his phone, then looks back up at you. "okay, so. when's good. you said it's due monday?"
your stomach does something complicated at the thought of this actually happening, of him actually meaning it. "i mean—if you're really down, friday night could work. gives me the whole weekend after to finish the piece."
"friday night works. come by my dorm, like, eight?" he says it so casually, like he's inviting you over for a movie and not offering to sit there while you draw every inch of him. "more privacy than the studio anyway. don't gotta worry about randos walking in."
"right." your voice comes out a little higher than you mean it to. "yeah. that makes sense."
"bring your stuff. pencils, whatever you need." he's already turning to go, slinging his bag over one shoulder, looking far too unbothered for someone who just volunteered for this. then he glances back at you, smirk creeping in again ""and hey—make sure you get the good angles. i have a reputation to maintain."
"i make no promises."
he laughs at that, walking backward a few steps before finally turning around fully and heading off down the hall, leaving you standing there with your sketchbook clutched to your chest and friday suddenly feeling very, very far away and not far away at all.
︵︵︵ ๑ ♡ ๑ ︵︵︵
you knock on his door right at eight, sketchbook tucked under your arm. when the door swings open, you almost forget how to speak entirely.
he's standing there in nothing but a towel slung low around his hips, hair still damp and pushed back messily from the shower, a few stray drops sliding down the side of his neck. he looks completely unbothered by it, leaning one arm against the doorframe like he just answered the door for a pizza delivery and not for you.
"hey," he says, grinning at the way your eyes immediately snap up to his face. "you're early. or i'm late. one of those."
"you said eight," you manage, voice coming out a little strangled.
"yeah, and it's eight." he steps back to let you in, completely at ease, while you do your absolute best not to stare at the water still tracking down his collarbone. "wanted to shower first. figured you'd want clean reference material, not sweaty me."
"right. that's—considerate." your face is heating up fast, and you hate how obvious it probably is.
he notices, of course he notices, smirk pulling wider as he shuts the door behind you. "you're already red and i haven't even dropped the towel yet."
"i'm not red."
"you're very red." he says it gently, almost fond, like he's enjoying this a little too much. "relax. you're gonna see me naked in like, five minutes anyway. no point getting shy now."
"that's—that doesn't make it less weird, satoru, that makes it more—" you cut yourself off, setting your bag down on his desk a little too forcefully, mostly to give your hands something to do that isn't fidgeting.
he just laughs, clearly enjoying every second of your suffering. "you're the one who's been secretly sketching me for who knows how long without even telling me. i'm just catching up to the project at this point."
you need something to say, anything, because the silence stretching between you feels too loud, too charged, like it's just waiting for you to do something stupid like keep staring at him. "so, um." you clear your throat, eyes darting anywhere that isn't directly at the towel. "how was practice?"
he glances at you over his shoulder, clearly clocking the fact that you're filling dead air for the sake of filling it, but he humors you anyway, padding over to the little kitchenette tucked in the corner of his dorm. "long. coach had us running rounds for like two hours straight. my legs are gonna hate me tomorrow."
"sounds rough."
"it was fine." he pulls a shaker bottle down from a shelf, dumping in a scoop of protein powder with one hand while the other holds the towel in place at his hip. "you get used to it after a while. body adjusts."
"right. makes sense." you nod way too many times for someone agreeing with such a simple statement, perching yourself on the edge of his desk chair, flipping your sketchbook open.
he adds water, screws the lid on, and shakes it, the muscles in his forearm shifting in a way you absolutely do not need to notice right now and notice anyway. then he tips his head back and drinks, and you watch—you can't help it, your eyes just go there on their own—the long line of his throat moving as he swallows, a bead of water from his still-damp hair sliding down the side of his neck and disappearing somewhere past his collarbone.
you realize you're staring a full two seconds too late.
"you're staring," he says, lowering the bottle, that slow grin spreading across his face like he's been waiting for an excuse to call it out.
"what?" your voice comes out a little too fast.
"you heard me." he sets the shaker down on the counter, leaning back against it. "staring. at me. just now."
"i wasn't staring," you say, way too quickly, your face heating up all over again as you fumble to look anywhere else—the ceiling, the floor, the stack of textbooks on his desk, anywhere that isn't him.
"you were so staring." he pushes off the counter, walking closer with that unhurried way he moves, like he has all the time in the world and fully intends to use it to torture you. "it's fine. i get it. i'm a lot to take in."
"oh my god."
"i'm just messing with you." he laughs. "relax. you look like you're about to pass out."
"I'm fine."
"uh huh." he doesn't push it further. he turns and heads toward the open space near his window, where the evening light is still soft and golden enough. he glances back at you over his shoulder. "okay. so how do you want me. like, pose-wise."
"oh—right." you fumble for your sketchbook, flipping it open to a blank page, grateful for something to focus on besides the fact that he's still only in a towel. "um. standing's probably easiest to start. maybe just—natural. however you'd normally stand."
"natural how. like this?" he straightens up, shoulders back, doing this exaggerated, stiff superhero pose that's clearly meant to make you laugh.
it works. a small laugh escapes you despite everything. "no, not like that. just—relaxed. like you're not thinking about it."
"hard to not think about it when you're staring at me with a pencil." but he loosens up anyway, settling his weight onto one leg, one hand coming up to rest at the back of his neck. "this work?"
your pencil is already moving before you fully register deciding to start. "yeah. that's—that's good. don't move."
"wasn't planning to." his voice has dropped a little, quieter now, watching you work. "you gonna tell me when the towel needs to come off, or am i supposed to guess."
your pencil stutters against the page. "right. um. whenever you're ready, i guess. it's—it's for the assignment, so."
"so professional," he says, the corner of his mouth twitching like he's fighting back a grin. "okay. you ready?"
"yeah." you swallow, gripping your pencil a little too tight. "ready."
he reaches up and tugs the knot of the towel loose, and it drops to the floor without any of the fanfare your racing heart seems to think the moment deserves. he doesn't flinch, doesn't make a big show of it—just steps back into the same easy stance from before, one hand resting at the back of his neck, weight settled onto one leg, completely at home in his own skin in a way that makes your nerves feel almost silly by comparison.
you keep your eyes on the page for a long moment before you let yourself actually look, telling yourself it's just reference, just anatomy, just the same thing you'd be doing with any model in class.
but it doesn't feel like just anatomy. it feels like every line of him is something you've already know from the sketches you didn't think anyone would see, except now the soft pencil shading has nothing on the real thing—the actual shape of his shoulders, the dip of muscle along his stomach, the lean lines of him standing there like an italian renaissance sculpture.
and god, he's better than you imagined. better than he looked in your head late at night when you couldn't sleep, which—not that you dream about him, obviously, that would be ridiculous, that's not a thing that happens—but if you did, hypothetically, this would still somehow be better than that.
it's almost unfair, really. the way his body looks like it was carved out of stone, like michelangelo himself spent way too long getting the proportions exactly right—shoulders broad and strong, the muscle down his arms, the curve where his waist narrows into his hips.
it's the kind of body you'd expect to see behind glass in a museum somewhere, with a little plaque underneath, except this version breathes and makes dumb jokes.
you let your eyes trace lower, the way you would with any reference, you tell yourself, purely for the sake of the assignment. his cock rests heavy between his thighs, thick and full, and bigger than you thought it would be (not that you'd ever thought about his dick, obviously, that's not a thing you do.)
the head shows a soft flush where it brushes against his leg, and the fair hair trails down from his navel and gathers in pale curls at the base. the sharp v of his hips frames it all in clean lines that make your fingers itch to draw every shadow and curve.
"you still with me?" he says, a little amused, like he's clocked exactly how long you've been staring without actually drawing anything.
"yeah—sorry, yeah." you blink, snapping your eyes back up to his face, pencil finally moving again.
"should i have, like, shaved or something?"
your face goes instantly red all over again. "what? no—it's fine. you're fine. it's not—that's not a thing you need to worry about."
"figured i'd ask." he shrugs. "usually i shave when i've got a girl coming over, but i was running late today, so."
"oh my god." you cover your face with one hand, pencil still somehow managing to keep moving against the page with the other. "i did not need to know that."
"only wanted to clear the air."
you peek at him through your fingers, deciding two can play this game. "so what you're telling me is you haven't had anyone over in a while, huh?"
a short surprised laugh, like he wasn't expecting you to fight back. "wow. okay. didn't think you had it in you. but—i mean, i have someone over now."
"to draw you. that's different."
"you're still seeing my dick or whatever."
"that's not the same thing and you know it."
"feels pretty similar from where i'm standing."
"so, the other girls sit across the room admiring you for twenty minutes with a sketchbook before anything happens? is that what you're telling me?"
"oh, so you're admiring me."
"that's not what i—i meant artistically."
"sure you did."
"i hate you."
"just so you know—they're not usually sitting across the room admiring me for twenty minutes. they're usually under me about thirty seconds after they walk through the door."
"oh my god, satoru."
after another ten minutes or so, your pencil finally slows, then stops altogether, hovering over the last few finishing strokes before you sit back to actually look at what you've got. it's good. better than good—the proportions feel right in a way they never quite did with the strangers from class, like having an actual person in front of you instead of just a body made all the difference.
"okay," you say, clearing your throat. "i think i've got what i need. you can relax."
"oh thank god." he drops the pose immediately, shoulders slumping, rolling his neck out with an exaggerated groan like he's been holding some kind of intense athletic stance this whole time and not just standing there looking effortlessly good. "puhhh. finally. you have no idea how hard it is to stand still that long."
"you literally do athletic training for two hours a day."
"that's different, that's moving. this was just—" he shakes out his arms, grabbing the towel off the floor and wrapping it back around his waist, "—standing there being stared at. way more exhausting than it sounds."
"you're so dramatic."
"i'm a very dedicated model, is what i am." he flops down onto the edge of his bed, finally looking properly relaxed for the first time all evening, then immediately perks back up, craning his neck toward your sketchbook. "okay, lemme see it."
you instinctively pull the book a little closer to your chest. "it's not done done. it's just the reference sketch."
"i don't care, i wanna see." he's already getting up, padding over. "c'mon. i posed for, like, twenty minutes straight. i've earned a peek."
"fine. but you can't make fun of it." you hold the sketchbook out, a little reluctant, watching his face carefully as he leans over to look.
he goes quiet for a second, which is rare enough on its own that you almost want to comment on it. his eyes move slowly over the page, taking in the lines of his own shoulders, the careful shading along his stomach, his easy stance you'd worked so hard to get right.
"huh," he says finally.
"what? is it bad?"
"no, it's—" he tilts his head. "it's really good, actually. like, you made me look good good. not just accurate good."
"that's literally just what you look like."
"i don't know, i feel like you're being generous with the shoulders." but he's smiling now, something a little softer underneath the teasing, still looking at the drawing instead of you. "you're actually talented. like, properly. i wasn't expecting it to be this good."
"you say that like you thought i was bad."
"i didn't know what to expect! you draw secret abs sketches of your friends, forgive me for having questions about your technical skill." but he says it gently, nudging your shoulder with his again, and when he finally looks up at you there's something warm in his expression that wasn't quite there before, something that makes your stomach flip a little. "seriously, though. this is really good. you should be proud of it."
"thanks," you say, feeling a little warm under the actual sincerity of it, fumbling slightly for something to do with your hands besides just standing there basking in gojo satoru's approval like it means something. "i mean, it's still rough. i've gotta clean it up before monday."
"still." he's still looking at it, then glances up at you with a grin starting to spread. "can i take a picture of it?"
"what? why?"
"i don't know, for personal use." he's already reaching for his phone on the nightstand. "this might genuinely be the most insane nude i could ever send to a girl. like, nobody's topping that."
"satoru, oh my god, no." you yank the sketchbook back against your chest, half laughing despite yourself. "you are not sending this to anyone."
"think about it though. any other guy sends a regular picture, basic, boring, zero creativity behind it. i send this and i'm instantly the most romantic man alive." he's grinning, clearly enjoying how flustered you've gotten all over again. "it's basically a love letter. you put thought into this."
"it's an anatomy assignment."
"a very thoughtful anatomy assignment." he reaches for the sketchbook again, more playful than serious about actually taking it. "c'mon, one picture. i won't even send it to anyone. probably."
you let him, mostly because you know arguing further is a losing battle, and he snaps a quick picture before setting his phone back down, looking entirely too pleased with himself about the whole thing.
"okay," he says, dropping back down onto the edge of the bed. "anything else you need from me? more poses, weird angles, you want me to flex my biceps?"
"no, it's fine." you start gathering your things. "i think i stressed you out enough for one night."
"you didn't stress me out." he watches you for a second, head tilted, clearly not buying the way you said that. "spill it."
"what?"
"you've got a face. the 'i want to say something but i'm not gonna' face." he leans back on his hands. "what is it."
you hesitate, fingers tightening slightly around your pencil case. "i mean—maybe we could do one more pose? like, a different angle or something. just so i actually have options when i sit down to finish it properly. i don't wanna hand in the first thing i drew if there's something better i could've gotten."
he blinks, then grins, already pushing himself back up off the bed. "yeah. sure. why not." he rolls his shoulders out, stepping back toward the open space by the window. "you're the artist. tell me where you want me this time."
he settles into the chair this time, leaning back with his head tipped against the top of it, one leg stretched out, the whole thing far more relaxed than the standing pose from before. one hand comes to rest loosely in his lap, fingers resting near his cock without much thought behind it.
"oh, this is way better. way less work than standing there like a statue." he glances down at where his hand landed, a flicker of realization crossing his face, and he laughs a little, shifting like he's about to move it. "oh—sorry, that's just habit. didn't even think about where i put my hand."
"no, it's—" you hesitate, voice catching, face going hot all over again. "it's, um—it's fine. really. genuinely fine. do whatever's, uh—whatever's comfortable for you. i'm not—this isn't a big deal."
he looks at you for a second, like he's checking you actually mean it, then shrugs, settling back into exactly the same position, hand staying right where it was. "okay. if you're sure. i'll stay like this, then."
your pencil is already moving, eyes flicking between him and the page. it takes you a few minutes to notice that he's stopped looking out at nothing and started watching you instead, head tilted slightly against the back of the chair.
"what?"
"nothing." but he doesn't stop watching you. there's something almost soft about the way he's looking at you now, the corner of his mouth pulled into a small smile, like he's caught himself thinking something he wasn't planning on. "you get this face when you're drawing. all scrunched up and serious."
"i do not."
"you so do. little furrow right here." he reaches up, tapping a finger lightly between his own eyebrows to demonstrate, careful not to actually shift out of the pose. "it's kind of cute."
your pencil stutters against the page. "don't move," you mutter, mostly to give yourself something to say that isn't reacting to that.
"i'm not moving."
he settles back again, and keeps watching you. his cock twitches once under his hand where it rests in his lap. he feels the slow thickening start before he can stop it. oh fuck. the words stay stuck in his throat but they echo in his head as he presses his fingers down a little harder. he tries to hold the growing length discreetly against his thigh but it is no use. another twitch makes the head nudge up against his palm.
your pencil pauses on the page. you see it. the subtle flex of his fingers. the unmistakable twitch that makes his cock strain despite the way he tries to keep it down. heat spreads low in your stomach and between your legs so fast it leaves you dizzy.
"sorry about that," he mutters. the flush on his neck deepens and his hand stays pressed over the twitching length like he can will it back down. but it twitches again anyway. slow and heavy and impossible to ignore. "long day, i guess. lot on my mind."
you swallow. "it's fine."
"i don't know, i normally kind of—wind down at night. on my own. you know. guess my body didn't get the memo that tonight's schedule looked a little different."
"oh! uh—i can go," you blurt out, already half reaching for your bag, face burning. "like, seriously, if you need a few minutes or—whatever, i don't want to make this weirder than it already is—"
"no, no, you don't have to go." he sits up a little. "it'll pass. it's fine. i'm fine."
"are you sure? because i really don't mind waiting outside, or coming back tomorrow, or—"
"i'm sure." he gives you a small, almost sheepish smile, the most genuinely embarrassed you think you've ever seen him. "just finish your drawing. i swear i'm not gonna combust."
"okay." you sink back down slowly, still not entirely convinced, sketchbook settling back into your lap. "if you're sure."
"i'm sure." he resettles into the chair, head tipping back again, doing his best to look casual about it even though his ears are still a little red. "c'mon. let's just—finish this. pretend it's a normal tuesday."
"it's friday."
"pretend it's a normal friday, then. work with me here."
you pick your pencil back up, trying to focus on the page instead of the very obvious tension radiating off him from across the room. for a minute or two it almost works, both of you pretending pretty hard that everything's fine.
the quiet stretches between you. you try to keep drawing but your focus slips every time he shifts in the chair. his hand presses down harder in his lap. he is trying to push his cock fully flat against his thigh now. his breathing turns heavy and uneven like he cannot quite catch it. you hear every inhale, every slow exhale. he is getting so worked up just from sitting there while you look at him. his cock under his palm thickens and twitches against his fingers no matter how he tries to hold it still.
then his fingers move slower. deliberate. he touches himself a little. just the barest drag of his thumb along the side like he is checking how hard he is getting. it twitches again under the touch. bigger this time. he presses down quick to try and calm it but it does not help. his breath catches on a low sound he does not quite manage to swallow.
your pencil stops moving. heat floods through you so fast your face burns.
"okay," he says, dragging a hand down his face. "okay, i think i actually need a few minutes this time."
"oh god, yes, okay." you're already on your feet, sketchbook nearly sliding off your lap in your rush. "i'll just—i'll wait outside, or—"
"you can stay." he says it quickly, almost too quickly, like it surprises even him. "i mean—if you want. it won't take long."
"satoru."
"what? i'm just saying, you don't have to leave the building over this."
"i'm not waiting in here while you—"
he does not look away from you as his hand slides back down between his legs. he is already painfully hard. his cock stands thick and flushed in his palm, the head dark and wet at the tip. he wraps his fingers around the length and strokes once slow and tight like he has been holding back for too long.
"i think i like it when you watch," he almost moans.
"i'm gonna—" you don't even finish the sentence, just grab your bag and bolt for the door, nearly tripping over your own backpack strap on the way. "air. i need air. i'll be right back."
"wait! you don't have to run—"
but the door already slams shut behind you, and you stand in the hallway for a solid ten seconds just catching your breath, face burning, heart absolutely pounding, before you let yourself slide down against the wall and bury your face in your hands.
you stay quiet. your breathing slows but your heart does not. then you hear it, muffled through the door. the low rough sound of his voice. a groan, and the wet sound of skin moving on skin. another sound comes through, sharper this time, and a low fuck.
you press your thighs together where you sit on the floor. the noises do not stop. they get a little louder like he has stopped holding back now that you are gone. you can picture it perfectly, his hand moving fast on his thick cock. another groan filters through the door and your body reacts hard, heat flooding between your legs.
you sit there against the wall, staring blankly at the hallway carpet while your brain refuses to move away from his door and not listen to his moans and groans anymore.
how. how are you supposed to look him in the eye after this. how are you supposed to sit across from him in the dining hall next week, or wave at him across campus, or exist in the same general vicinity as gojo satoru ever again without your whole face just instantly catching fire.
you bury your face deeper into your hands, groaning quietly to yourself. it was one thing when it was just sketches. it was even survivable when he found the sketchbook, mortifying as that had been. but this. this is a whole new tier of humiliation you didn't know existed until tonight.
you're going to have to transfer schools. change your name. move to another country, probably. there's no version of monday where you walk into the dining hall and he's there and you don't immediately die on the spot.
somewhere behind the door, things have gone quiet.
you really, really don't want to think about what that means.
I mean, Silver is a human(!!!), but he's also adopted by Lilia (someone Baur respects a lot) and Sebek's only friend
If I'm not mistaken, Baur knows how Knight of Dawn looked like, so what did he think when realized Silver looks suspiciously KoD-shaped?
granted, things got pretty wacky when they were escaping the castle, he might not have actually processed what Dawnathon's face looked like! although I guess it is the kind of thing that sticks with you through the centuries, and if anyone was gonna notice...
(continuing my "old Bauru looks exactly the same but with a BIG mustache" agenda)
alternatively, he's gotten a lot better, but his daughter is still working with him on...certain things involving humans.
you're lying back on the bed, sheets rumpled beneath as your body hums with anticipation. nanami positions himself between your spread thighs, his strong hands grab your hips, pulling you closer, the tip of his thick cock pressing against your cunt. he pushes in slowly, the stretch burning sweetly as your pussy yields to his girth, inch after inch filling you up. you gasp, clutching the pillows, your walls clenching around him instinctively.
"is it all in yet?" you whisper breathlessly, eyes wide as you look up to him, feeling so full already but yet craving more.
kento pauses, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest, while his gaze darkens with lust. he reaches for your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours before guiding your hand down between your bodies. gently but firmly, he wraps your palm around the base of his cock—the part that's still exposed, hot and veined, throbbing against your skin. "not even close," he murmurs, voice husky, thrusting his hips just enough to slide another inch inside you, making you moan as your fingers feel the slick between your bodies.
your hand trembles around him, feeling the length that remains, the way it pulses with need. he holds your hand there, letting you stroke the exposed shaft while he rocks deeper, your pussy stretching further to accommodate him. the sensation of your own fingers brushing against your clit as you grab around him sends sparks straight through your core. nanami groans, his free hand pinning your wrist lightly, controlling the pace as he sinks in more.
after what feels like an eternity, his hips finally meet yours, his entire cock buried to the hilt inside you. he releases your hand, leaning down to claim your mouth in a searing kiss just as he starts to move—pulling out halfway before slamming back in. you wrap your legs around his waist, urging him on, your pussy dripping around him with each thrust.
"been wanting to do this for so fucking long," he gasps as his hand slides up to pinch your nipple, rolling it between his fingers while the other braces beside your head. you arch into him, the coil in your stomach tightening as his cock drags through your most sensitive spots, hitting deep and hard. "feel that?" he growls against your lips. "all mine now."
Actually you SHOULD make problematic content. You SHOULD explore dark or taboo topics. You SHOULD have a space where you can cope with your traumas or explore sensitive topics in a way that doesn't hurt anyone.
Also you should make problematic content for funsies. You don't need to have had trauma or need to be coping in order to explore dark creativity. You can just be a human who wants to explore dark and taboo topics because you want to. That's completely normal, btw.
Every single person on this planet thinks about dark and taboo things. It's literally the most normal thing in the world.
✮ sugardaddy! nanami wants you to earn your new chanel bag in a very special way !
"i really want it."
the office stayed dead quiet at night when you walked in without knocking, like you always did. you had only one goal — you needed that bag from the new chanel spring collection.
and now you sat in his office chair, perched right on top of him. his legs were spread wide, your back was pressed tight against his chest, and your legs were wide open on the armrests. when he spent the whole week making you drink more water, you naively thought he just cared about your health.
well, you were wrong.
he teased you, only rubbing his fingers over your already wet pussy, soaking up all the moisture but never going inside. he lifted his hand right to your face, slowly spreading his fingers, and you saw the thick, wet slime stretching between them. he slowly licked it off and let out a low, vibrating groan, throwing his head back.
"mmmh... then my girl's gotta ask better than that."
in the next second, he shoved his fingers into you all the way to the knuckles.
"nn-nghh! it's too much!" you whined, and your hips jerked up, trying to take him.
"this sweet pussy can't handle it, huh?" he chuckled softly against your neck. "too tight since daddy hasn't fucked you for a whole week?"
"hnggg..." you nodded aggressively, gasping. "p-please... daddy, ah!"
he laughed quietly, pinning your stomach with his other hand to hold you in place. "don't move, baby. you wanted that bag, right? tell me about it." his fingers worked inside with a heavy, wet squelch that echoed through the quiet office, and you were sure anyone left in the building heard you.
"i want it so bad..."
he started pressing against the front wall totally different than usual — he moved his fingers in a deep, insistent wave.
"come on, baby, tell daddy exactly what he's gotta buy for his girl."
you threw your head back helplessly on his shoulder, whimpering because of how hard and tight he filled you up. during the days he was away on business, you totally lost the feel of it, and now every move he made felt too intense, too strong, too fast.
"it's blue and... hnnngh! so good! ... and... checkered... and... h-nnnh! daddy, i feel somethin' weird!" a high, almost scared scream ripped out of your chest.
he just cranked up the speed, his other hand, which stayed on your stomach before, slid way down to your clit, starting teasingly rolling it between his fingers and then mashed it with his thumb, massaging and playing with it.
you tried to squeeze your thighs together, trying to shake that weird feeling that did not usually happen to you. "daddy, stop... i need to... mmnh! i can't... h-haah!"
but he only pressed his lips to your neck, kissing you. "you can, pretty girl. wreck my chair and my desk. i wanna remember the mess you left every time i sit here."
you shook your head aggressively, feeling a huge, invisible balloon inflating inside you. "haaa... it's too much, it's... nn-ngh-a-a-a!.. fuuckkkkk!"
it felt like a massive electric shock ripped through your body when a hot, clear wave burst out in a heavy stream, soaking everything around: his sleeves, his palms, the leather chair, and even the important files on the desk. he slowly pulled out his fingers and started smoothly stroking your folds, making the liquid splash in every direction. your hips jerked up on their own and your legs shook so bad that you could barely stay on him.
"mm-nng, so good..." you whimpered piteously and thinly, feeling every single cell of your body pulsing.
he continued softly stroking your stomach with one hand and the inside of your thighs with the other, waiting for your shaking to die down.
"my good girl, you did so well for me. now show me exactly which one you want."
girl….the constant 'i have a master's degree' flex in tumblr fandom discourse is still unbelievably funny to me because nobody is peer reviewing anonymous asks on this app.. 😭 this is not a thesis defense, i promise. also, people sending asks does not automatically make them irrational. that logic makes no sense. (??) public posts invite responses - especially when you keep speaking on a situation this aggressively and calling everyone 'hoes,' 'cowards,' and 'pathological liars'! you cannot continuously escalate your tone and then act shocked when people respond.
and honestly, your entire argument keeps circling back to 'i personally think the evidence was weak, therefore everyone reacting to it is insane and immature,' which is still just... your opinion. you are allowed to think luu exaggerated things… just like other people are allowed to think eden's behavior looked shady. that does not make everyone else hysterical teenagers stuck in 'mean girl glory days' ..lols.
the irony is you keep accusing everyone else of mob mentality while speaking in the exact same condescending, superiority-complex tone you claim to 'dislike'. you don't sound neutral or above the drama. you sound very deeply and emotionally invested in defending eden while framing your personal interpretation as objective truth. and no, being over 30 doesn't suddenly mean people stop caring when they think someone behaved badly online. adulthood is not measured by how detached you pretend to be on tumblr dot com.
omg u hoes are so tired.
sorry me having a masters triggers your inferiority complex. seek therapy.
i never acted shocked when people responded. i'm literally responding to their response. ive never told anyone to leave me alone just pointed out how i live rent free in your minds or returned their energy. like right now. the problem is y'all aren't used to a bitch who uses your hate as fuel. im not running. im right here.
it is FACT, not opinion that luu has not proved anyone sent her hate. she proved someone reblogged a post about talking shit in the dms lmfao. she is just hurt her she thinks her ex-friends are talking shit about her in dms, which fair enough but dms =/= inbox death threats.
you thinking that is even an opinion based statement shows me your lack of intelligence and overall incompetence. people are definitely allowed to be incompetent though. don't let me stop you girl! go for gold!
tone =/= mentality. i'm talking to you hoes like the good for nothing hoes you are. that =/= witch hunt. no wonder you stupid hoes think luu's post is evidence of anything, you literally lack the intelligence to string together a competent argument or understand one. maybe all that smut IS rotting y'alls brains.
oh i don't want to sound neutral. i never said i wanted to. however, unlike you hoes im capable of nuance and clearly that's one of the many things your aforementioned lack of comprehension isn't grasping. if this community had the capacity for nuance we wouldn't be here right now.
im not accusing, im stating a fact. the jjkblr community at large proved themselves to be a low down cowardly group of bullies who either actively participated, stood by silent and watched or complied out of fear. all guilty by proxy. although i do have sympathy for those who felt fear to go against status quo. as they were rounding up people on tojioffline2 who still supported eden and sending them hate. textbook mob behaviors.
i am invested. i never said i wasn't. i said i don't give a fuck about hate but i am very invested in making a stand against a mob mentality and a bunch of coward ass writers who would "cancel" someone over not reblogging a fic and hurt feefees.
the only objective truth is the root of all this is all because someone didn't read/reblog someone else's fanfic. thats the only thing we have solid proof of.
also hit dogs will holler you must be super upset i clocked hoes so bad. :(
psa that i am not eden's lawyer, spokesperson, manager, etc. i am her friend, a close friend yes, but simply a friend.
idk if y'all know this but defending your friends is actually the bare minimum in a friendship, and considering i've been friends with her for 10 years, i think she's really earned me coming to her defense when she cannot articulate literate responses. she does not send me to do things. i am a 20 year old adult with severe hyper-independence issues. i promise you i am the sole person responsible for my actions.
that being said, i've never sent hate on her behalf either. for starters, i actually don't believe in anon hate. if i wanted to send hate, i would send it with my url visible. furthermore, she's actively discouraged me from responding to any drama she's in before. i didn't because i respect her enough to do so, and previous drama had nothing to do with me. however, not only has this whole ordeal has gone way too far for me to just sit back and watch her get dragged through the mud, i have also been dragged into it. what i will not stand for is being called complacent in another person's harm, nor will i be called someone's minion.
i do not respond to comments, block, or interact with people on her behalf. i do not have her log in info. i do, however, offer her my opinion when she does not feel like she can trust her judgement. as she mentioned in her post, her OCD can make her feel like she is the worst person alive. i've helped her deal with that for quite some time, with the help of her psychiatrist. when she feels like she can't trust herself, she comes to me to ask. i am also extremely protective over her, for reasons i will get into in a minute because my hand is being forced.
any commenters on her response post that were blocked initially were because i told her their comments were not constructive. for that i apologize. i let my protectiveness cloud my judgement in what was genuinely hateful ( which there were some genuinely hateful comments ) and what wasn't.
i was replying to comments because again, i am her friend. i want to defend my friend. and let me be clear that you do not maintain a 10 year friendship without your ups and downs. we have tiffed, and we then sorted it out. we are at a point where we will tell each other if we see something wrong. so believe me when i say that if she were any of the things she was being accused of, i would not be defending her like i am.
were my replies always the most appropriate? no, and i do apologize if i came off harsh or brash. understand that it was not my intention. i was replying for the sake of genuinely understanding what what happening and where the issue was so maybe i could help eden be better. again, i definitely let my protectiveness and emotions run high and choose my words instead of my brain.
as for why i'm so gung-ho on defending her: like i said, we've been friends for 10 years. if we are both in our 20s now, do the math. we've more or less watched each other grow up. we have seen each other go through some of the worst and best times of our lives. i think she knows more about me than i do myself and vice versa.
not only that, i mentioned this in some comments a few days ago but let me reiterate here: a year ago, around this time, she saved my life. without knowing at that. beyond this point, i will be talking about what happened so trigger warning for suicidal ideation. look for the purple text under the cut to skip it if you wish to continue reading
exactly a year ago, i was at risk for loosing my scholarships that paid for my tuition to attend university. without them, i would have to drop out. i would not qualify for enough student loans, i would not be able to get private loans, and my family is not in a spot to pay for that.
my GPA dipped just low enough that they would have to be extremely strict to take them away. at my university, professors are given a week between the end of finals and GPA being finalized. i knew for about 3 weeks that i was at risk.
i am diagnosed adhd and severe anxiety disorder. i do not do well with uncertainty and unresolved issues. even with my medication, i was worrying myself to points of genuine illness. i could not eat or sleep, something eden picked up on pretty quickly and confronted me on it. i told her about my anxieties and she was quick to help me think through it with logic and reason. she helped me find potential solutions for my issue. while it did not make it go away fully, i definitely felt more secure than before.
unfortunately for me, they were strict enough to revoke them. again, trigger warning for suicidal ideation.
the morning i got the email, i had just taken my medicine and was sitting right next to the bottle of pills. i hadn't slept and had been crying for almost an hour. i wondered what would happen if i just took the rest of that bottle. for a second, i wondered if that would be easier than explaining to my parents, who both couldn't attend college because they had me, that i failed in my first year. i texted eden and asked if she would call me. this was the first time in 10 years she had ever heard me cry ( shocking, i know. i barely believed it when she told me ).
she had no idea that she almost lost me that day. she didn't know until yesterday, when i told her so the comment didn't catch her off guard. all she knew is that i was shaken up over something she barely understood. she took the time to listen to me try to explain the logistics through my tears and helped me look into how to submit an appeal. she helped me fill out the forms and submit the evidence i needed to win my appeal.
suicidal ideation ends here
i do not tell that story to guilt anyone. i do not tell that story to make her seem like a saint. like i said, i know she has her flaws as i have been the one to tell her about some of them. i tell the story to prove she is a genuine human being. she is kind and good hearted and i promise she did not mean any harm she might have inflicted. that is why i defend her, because - as corny as this sounds - i know her soul.
i ask this sincerely, please give her time to reformulate her response. i think we see where she went wrong, and she is going to readdress it all. she has fallen asleep as she was on hour 22 awake after only sleeping a few hours the night before.
that being said, i will not be engaging with the drama unless i absolutely have to. that does not mean i will be ignoring it. i will continue to keep my eyes on it and respond however i alone see fit. again, at this point might as well have negative influence on how i respond to this.
While I prefer to not give attention to this sort of thing, it has finally gotten to the point where my integrity is being questioned. In this post, I will address all of the claims and allegations that have been on the rise from @tojioffline, @tojioffline2 and @edensanon.
A lot of the 'evidence' for these claims is not actual, concrete evidence. Most are links to anonymous asks sent to burn book blogs and the rest are hyper-focused misreadings of posts I made no earlier than March 2026.
I am aware that this looks like a lot, but this is simply because I haven't addressed anything prior to this.
I will provide as much factual evidence and sources as I possibly can.
Fallouts
I have had fallouts with three significant people on tumblr, two of which I will not name because they have not come forward, to my knowledge, about it.
Let's start with Bluukive.
The situation between Luu and I was a personal matter that resulted in both of us blocking each other in September 2025. We were both angry, so I told my people, and she told hers. People who weren't supposed to get involved, got involved.
Both of us made vagueposts, so I can only assume people caught onto the matter and decided to stir it further.
On my side, I ranted to friends in a private server ( six people, only four active ). No one who had any connection to Luu, nor any of which were her mutuals ( to my knowledge ). If any went out of their way to send her hate anons, it was not to my knowledge. At the time I was also caretaking a family member who had just been out of a massive surgery, so I was preoccupied with my personal life.
I never incited nor sent hate to her. I wasn't even aware about her grandmother's passing because, as stated, we had each other blocked. I am sorry that people were cruel and used that against her, but I was not behind that.
It's not fair bringing this up as it was laid to rest a long time ago. Regardless, I send my condolences to her and her family. I wish her all the best.
I will not go into detail about this unless Luu wishes to. Regardless of what anyone says, her and I were friends, and our matter was personal.
The other two were a joined pair in an incident that involved @mannythemunchkin as our mutual friend. Manny and I were both targeted by these two in an effort to stir drama.
I had reason to believe that both were sending me malicious anons leading up to the incident, with one of them soft blocking me repeatedly ( even coming into my inbox after the first time asking 'how'd they unfollow me' ) until I eventually had enough and blocked them.
Manny was in a toxic friendship with one of these people. After the incident, which occurred in February 2026, Manny and I received a rise of anon hate on both of our blogs. Bearing in mind, that Manny had not received any hate on her blog for the thirteen years that she had been on tumblr.
Once again, I ranted in a private server about these two. If any went out of their way to send them hate anons, it was not to my knowledge. I did not send hate either.
I don’t want this to be misinterpreted as me vague posting about these two people ( I’m sure we’d all rather not dig up old drama ) so I’m avoiding naming them out of respect for their peace, so that they are not dragged into it all over again. I’m only bringing this up as it’s one of the things I’ve been called to address. I will not go into detail about this incident unless the other two do first.
Other than that, I have had no other fallouts with anyone else. If someone soft blocked me as a result of the above issues, I simply blocked them.
I do however, acknowledge the recent statement made by @epicderpface. I would not call that a fallout as there were no exchanges. It was a matter of me reading too far into things and learning how to handle a growing mutual base. This happened around August/September 2025 and I was still relatively new to the fandom. I did not understand the concept of 'soft blocking' after a mutual ( a friend of theirs ) had done so to me. In my fandom experience, hard blocking was the only way to go and soft blocking made me feel as if I was being watched. That was, of course, anxiety talking.
Once again, I ranted in the small, private server with my friends about my own paranoia surrounding other people's 'behaviours', but in the end; it was a lesson for me to learn that not everyone is out to get me. I acted on a natural human response, fear, and ranted in what I had assumed was a small, secure place.
It is a common consensus that these conversations were in public servers with a massive audience. The truth is that this was an invite only server with only six people at the time. When I ranted in both occasions, I was confiding in friends ( the four people who were active ). A third party, one of the six who was not active, took it upon themselves to share what I had vented in confidence, again, to friends.
I do not condone the harassment of any individual, nor have I ever urged my followers or friends to send hate or threats. I have made several posts such as this in the past. I do not appreciate nor find any pride in anyone fighting battles on my behalf, especially when it is cruel.
I apologise on their behalf, but am also aware that I cannot be held responsible for people's own autonomy. There is no evidence of me explicitly calling for hate on any user.
Any claims that I had fallouts with people and sent others to threaten them, or did so myself, are invalid if not backed by evidence ( screenshots, that aren't just anons in their inbox as anonymous messages cannot in any way be traceable ).
Satorusstupidgirl
Once again there is no substantial evidence that this blog is me. Claiming that the themes are similar is not only incorrect, but also ignorant to the fact that I am a big blog, people will copy my themes.
This does raise a more important point: why should I care?
Framing me as this blog and looking for 'hidden similarities' has become more of a 'gotcha!' moment when in reality, dark content is nothing new to me.
I've stated multiple times that I am anti-censorship. I do not care what people write, you cannot make me care. As long as it is fictional characters, in a fictional world, in a fictional situation— I don't care.
Furthermore, I've written problematic content on this blog. It's no secret.
Unhealthy obsession, toxic relationships, dubcon, cannibalism, etc. I have also mentioned stepcest on this blog before.
I have written noncon, but I have not posted anything. Anti-censorship aside, I have openly said that I am a rape victim and that this is how I cope. You do not get to dictate how I express my own trauma. I was encouraged by my psychologist to write about my trauma using these methods. It is cathartic. A way for me to feel safe and in control. I will not be shamed for that.
In the very screenshot of my pinned provided as 'evidence', it says that I am a nsfw/dark content friendly blog. I have never deceived anyone in this regard. Scroll through my blog for ten minutes and you'll very quickly see my stance on this topic.
Plagiarism
Plagiarism: presenting work or ideas from another source as your own, with or without consent of the original author.
Fanfiction is a derivative work. Any artist knows that originality is dead. The way that fandom thrives is by reusing, recycling and by taking inspiration from various creators. I have spoken on this matter extensively. While yes, we shouldn't go copy-pasting each other's fics, vague ideas cannot be owned.
Starting with the allegation that I plagiarized this Yuta in Satoru's body fic from AO3. It is not only invalid, but incorrect. For starters, I don't read on AO3. Even if I had read the fic, I had the idea first. The AO3 fic was posted on 26/03, I posted about the concept on 19/03. Not that I care, because I encourage people to use my work as inspiration, but this is factually incorrect.
Secondly, the portal pussy concept. @blkkizzat had approached me when she received an ask requesting the trope. She said that she did not feel comfortable with people sending her requests before I had even written the first chapter, as she had not seen anyone write the portal pussy concept in the jjk fandom as of yet. I reblogged the ask she answered, thanking her and also telling people to at least wait for me to get the fic out first. I did not say other people could not write it. Even if someone went ahead and wrote it anyway, I would not have made a fuss out of it. Ideas are meant to be shared, transformed and recycled. That's what keeps fandom alive.
Kali explained this perfectly in her response. I never asked for, nor expected an apology.
And finally, yes. Reusing an idea.
If you read the first link under this heading, you'll see my views about recycling ideas and writing your own interpretations of things. Yes, I saw the post in the screenshot. Yes, I reused the idea. I didn't think it would be an issue considering we're not only in two completely different spheres of the fandom, but also because it was a single sentence, not a fic.
After being made aware that the original poster didn't appreciate it after they reblogged the post and cited their displeasure in the tags, I attempted to approach them. They had blocked me. After numerous failed attempts of trying to find their username, I then proceeded to delete the post. I could only find their username again as a result of the callout post, in which I dug up my old mdzs blog to not only approach them but warn them of this callout blog. Here's how that conversation went.
Unfortunately, I couldn't explain to them how a 'For You Page' is a compilation of tumblr suggested posts and not the people you follow because they had blocked me again. In an attempt to ease their discomfort, I proceeded to deactivate the blog shortly after.
I don't blame this person for their reaction as my name looks quite horrendous right now, but I cannot be told that I did not take accountability and apologised.
Monetising Fanfics / Patreon
Japan has a very different view regarding derivative works. They freely allow people to create fanworks and monetise it. Ie: Comiket is a huge convention in Japan dedicated to the sale of fanworks. It's encouraged, as it keeps their IP alive, so that they can keep people interested in it for when they release merch.
Being a manga-ka/animator is not glamorous, so this is another way to encourage people to go down that path. This is also how they get discovered and have a "résumé", through fanworks.
Creds to Kali who worded this beautifully during one of our conversations. She is a creditable source as she studied in Japan herself. This is also a topic I researched extensively before opening my Patreon.
Furthermore, I don't see any issues when artists have patreons or accept commissions, so I have no idea how this doesn't apply to writers. People sell fanwork through art, writing, prints, figures, keychains, clothing, fansongs, plushies, crockery, mouse pads, sex toys, etc. These are sold on multiple platforms such as Amazon, Etsy and convention sites. If this was an issue it would have shut down a long time ago.
As for the claim that I 'don't interact in my patreon discord server', that server has become solely for updates because people do not speak there. Even before I had the server, people rarely spoke on the Patreon chat. I made the server in hopes it would encourage people to talk more. I was relatively active and tried to encourage people to text when it was first created. They are more introverted, and that's okay. People subscribe to the patreon for fics, not to interact with me. People simply get access to the server as a result of being on the patreon.
I did not ask any of the admins to interact on the server in my stead. This is once again, another false claim that cannot be backed by evidence.
To conclude this point, in what world is it anyone's business how much money I make? I am not a corporation. I am an individual. Digging into my financial standing is deeply disturbing.
As far as I know, there are only two other creators in the jjk-writer tumblr fandom who have Patreons, both of whom are white ( to my knowledge ). The fact that my race is singled out in these posts says a lot about what your real issue is regarding me earning money from fanfiction. Everyone knows that I'm South African. That comment was not directed towards people living in India.
Stating that "you are also Indian" on anon holds no grounds. Furthermore, @tojioffline did not in any way, shape, or form, condemn the racist rhetoric.
Adding onto the fact that I received countless asks featuring slurs, stereotypes and other racist rhetoric after this was mentioned, really says a lot.
Being Run Out Of Old Fandoms
This is just blatantly incorrect. I haven't been involved in the diabolik lovers fandom since 2019, it was one of my first fandoms on wattpad. Not tumblr. I had no issues during my time in the diabolik lovers fandom.
The fandom I got 'run out of' was the tolkien fandom, and I was not 'run out', I left. Why? Because a small group of people were pissed that I wrote for god characters instead of the elves. I would receive countless hate asks about the things I wrote, and eventually had enough.
It was hardly dramatic, just a decision to leave something behind I had lost love for. My tolkien mutuals and friends can vouch for that.
Fake Sweetness
This is purely opinionated. I cannot change anyone's opinion nor have any interest to. Everyone is entitled to believe what they wish.
I recently wrote this in my about me:
i tend to embody my preppy persona : sweetheart on this blog cause i'm a wattpad veteran and we lovveeddd our roleplay. i'm a very blunt person who's also quite anxious, so I tend to “pretty up” my interactions cause it's easier than worrying about whether my words will be misinterpreted !
I have always, and will always, put an extra effort into being nice. This might come off as 'disingenuous' or 'fake' because majority of my interactions are framed in a preppy manner. So let me try to offer an explanation for this.
Firstly, as stated in my 'about me', a lot of what I present on this site is an online persona. That is what most blogs do. I play up a certain characteristic for entertainment purposes. In the real world I am considered a pretty blank and naturally sarcastic person. I have an issue with expressing my emotions visually and verbally. Due to this, I have become hyper-aware of how I may be perceived, and thus try my absolute hardest to make sure my words cannot be misinterpreted.
This is also a manifestation of my moral scrupulosity OCD.
Moral Scrupulosity revolves around the fear that one may act in ways that are inconsistent with their own moral compass, or what they deem as “good” or “bad” by society’s standards
— International OCD Foundation
To summarise, my mind hyperfocuses on the idea that I could be perceived as a 'bad' person. Due to this, I filter every interaction, digital or not, through this thought process. This is severe paranoia.
Without this knowledge, I can understand why some may assume my personality is 'fake'. I cannot change that opinion for some, but this is my explanation as to why you may think that.
I've also compiled a list of people I have not only interacted with, but have become friends with over my years in fandom. I'd argue that people who have interacted with me over extended periods of time warrant more validation than nameless anons.
Here is a list of fandom friends who I have maintained through the years. They can vouch for the kind of person that I am.
@aves1018 ( 10 years, every fandom )
@stxrfell ( 10 years, every fandom )
@local-writer ( 9 years, several fandoms )
@fayevalentinesgamblingchip ( 5 years, kamisama kiss, tower of god fandom )
@rurifangirl ( 5 years, kamisama kiss fandom )
@eden-dum ( 5 years, non-fandom friend )
@kiatheinsomniac ( 4 years, tolkien fandom )
@cilil ( 4 years, tolkien fandom )
@animatorweirdo ( 4 years, tolkien fandom )
@someoneinthestars ( 4 years, tolkien fandom )
@ruiniel ( 4 years, tolkien fandom )
@howlsmoonhaven ( 3 years, several fandoms )
Problematic Content
Once again, I have never claimed to be anti dark content. I have always been anti-censorship and never once hid that. So, regarding my taboo content, this shouldn't be news to anyone.
In my Something Old, Something New fic, it was listed multiple times that this was a 'former student trope', which is not new to fanfiction, nor to me. I've written college professor x student fics and even a former student fic with Satoru. As for not tagging it correctly, you are being purposefully ignorant.
Furthermore, the fic was tagged correctly and includes no grooming nor borderline pedophilia. All characters were explicitly confirmed adults. The reader does not come onto Yuta in any way, shape, or form. Even towards the end, she shoves him off after he kisses her.
It's also important to note that Yuta is twenty three in the fic. This is blatant cherry picking, because several people are now writing about Yuta, Yuji, and Megumi after the conclusion of Modulo, in which we have an actual timeline of them being fully grown adults.
While what I am writing is not 'aged up' characters because of the Modulo timeline, I can start tagging it as such for people to filter out easier.
Neurotypical Observation
As an individual with diagnosed OCD and suspected Autism, I have the right to bring up ableism and make observations about neurotypicals coming into neurodivergent spaces and misunderstanding our mannerisms.
Tumblr has always been coined as the 'neurodivergent site'. Those of you who are new to this may not know that. That does not mean that tumblr is solely for neurodivergent individuals, only that many have connected here.
The post explicitly listed matters of 'friendship decay' in the tags, which is an issue we are currently seeing in fandom ( specifically, in which blogs grow upset when their mutuals do not interact with them ).
The truth is that neurodivergents and neurotypicals have differing standings on friendship and interactions. Both are valid.
Studies show that some neurotypical individuals often require friendship maintenance in the form of frequent interactions, something that I and numerous neurodivergent individuals struggle with. Even then, those that do not struggle with the act of replying do not require the same maintenance. It's known as the 'rose meets cactus' conundrum.
My post was an observation, not a call for segregation.
The Gojo Twins
I have never claimed to be the creator of the Gojo twins trope. Here's one example. This goes back to my previous point in plagiarism as to how fandoms thrive.
When I started writing Seeing Double, my Gojo twins fic, I knew I did not just want to write two Satorus. Thus, Satoshi was created. I developed him fully with my best friend in discord dms, @aves1018. Satoshi became a hit and people wanted more of him in different verses.
Thus, Satoshi was officially coined as an OC. I made info posts about him and encouraged people to use him, my oc ( differentiated by his personality, backstory and scars ) in their fics as long as they credited me ( again, for my specific Gojo twin ).
This is nothing new, people make ocs who are siblings to canon characters all the time. Mine just so happened to become popular.
When people started putting my oc into character ai bots, I came out and condemned them for it as I do not support ai.
When people started using my oc ( my version of Satoshi ) in fics without crediting me, I called them out.
In no way did I claim the name Satoshi, it simply became associated with me because I was one of the first people to name my Gojo twin in the new resurge of the trope. Rather than call one 'Toru' and the other 'Sato' ( no hate to those who did/do this ). I did not tell anyone that they could not create Gojo twin fics. I even encouraged and reblogged multiple of them.
While I won't say much about people viewing my Gojo twin writing as 'twincest' because I've already shared my views about that extensively, I do want to comment on this.
Something that is taken out of context. I was not referring to writers at all, and was very obviously referring to readers who harass writers / expect them to bend over backwards for them. This is yet another blatant misreading. Bear in mind this was also said while I was angry after facing several hate anons going into my mutuals inboxes trying to stir drama. I did not go through with it and simply went on a blocking spree.
Being Mutuals With Pro-shippers
Anti censorship: believing, or expressing the belief, that people in authority should not prevent a work of art, document, or other type of communication from being freely available, even if it contains secret information or expresses ideas that are considered unsuitable.
I am anti-censorship, I don't care what people post as long as it is fictional characters, in a fictional setting and a fictional scenario. I follow anyone with the word 'writer' in their bio. This is nothing new, it's in my guidelines and has always been.
As for @/belimah, the moment I realised that they posted art without crediting and against artists' wishes, I unfollowed them.
However, it is deeply ironic that I am condemned for 'having proshipper mutuals' when some of the sources in the callout post are from proshippers / dark content blogs to begin with.
Making Mutuals
This one confuses me. The immediate assumption that I make mutuals for gain is not grounded in facts. It is once again an opinion.
I make mutuals fast because I follow any writer, big or small, the second I find them. I also interact with everyone, regardless of whether they are a writer, artist or simply a reader. I reply to almost every comment in my pieces and have even followed back some of my frequent readers. Sometimes I send in asks complimenting people on their themes, or random asks when I see them on my dashboard. I have always done this, this is not anything new.
Here is a post from when I was still new to the fandom where I stated this.
Here are several other instances of me stating this too. One | Two | Three
Claiming that I do this is not only baseless, but opinionated.
Reblogging Fanfic With AI Headers
AI art is getting increasingly more difficult to differentiate from real art. I genuinely did not know that the art was AI, and if I was approached on the matter I would have deleted my reblog.
Also, the original creator changed their header. I assume they didn't know either. You cannot fault someone for an honest mistake.
I Don't Address Situations
I'm using this as my conclusion. In this fiery post I stated that I do not address issues that people cannot be upfront about. I stated that I do not entertain anons, as anons do not reveal themselves because they know that the majority of their claims are false, purposefully ignorant or cannot be backed by evidence.
I have always been an individual who approaches matters openly and prefers communication over conflict. As shown in the plagiarism section. I do not discuss personal issues publicly. Never have, never will. The post I reblogged encouraged people to approach me in private.
Here is an example of someone approaching me after I had blocked them and how I handle conflict when there is direct communication.
Anons and burn book blogs do not count as 'approaching'. It is hostile and meant to tear people down, stir drama and enable cancel culture. My name has been dragged through the dirt by multiple people who either misinterpreted or did not approach me privately. When I say 'talk to me face to face', I mean private message. No anonymity. No masks.
@edensanon is anonymous. None of the allegations above were approached in a one-on-one. I will not entertain people who simply wish to cause drama nor will I cater to those who are purposefully ignorant to how the internet, especially cancel culture/mob mentality, works. I cannot be blamed for not addressing anonymous 'allegations' in the past. Not only is there no proof other than hearsay from anons, but no matter what I say, people who came with the intention to convict would never see reason.
I cannot fathom why this has become as big of an issue as it has. I use tumblr to practice my writing and further my writing career. I have had private issues with people in the past, we all have, but none that warrants this. Especially because I myself have never brought any of these issues to public.
While this does look like 'hundreds of people hating on sweethearticism', I am fairly convinced it is only a select, dedicated few.
It is blatantly obvious that I have been a target of the burn book blogs ever since they activated. A lot of hate towards other writers was said to be speculation or simply gossip. Some writers were even given the opportunity to clear their names. However, whenever my name is brought up, it is met with absolute criticism and no grace whatsoever. Not to mention that I have been mentioned a total of 70+ times on the blog. A disproportionate amount compared to others.
Everything I post is nitpicked, and framed in a bad light. Realistically, if you did this with any other blog, you could spin a wide variety of multiple, unrealistic claims. I've obviously not covered everything in this post, because most 'allegations' are of similar nature to the ones I've listed— blatant misreads, stuff purposefully taken out of context and hearsay.
Anonymous claims cannot be backed and are easily fabricated. I urge everyone to note how majority of the 'allegations' are sent by anon asks: no name, no context, no screenshots, no evidence. All of these claims have no ground and have become a game of broken telephone.
But, I would like to raise a deeper issue.
Sending asks to people I know, tagging my mutuals and pressuring them to 'form an opinion', making an entire anonymous account and inciting bullying: is not looking for accountability. It is harassment.
The troves of anons and callout blogs have nurtured a mob mentality. This is not holding people accountable.
The fact that I was rushed to make this response, and when I did not respond to their pressure they immediately turned to harassing my friends and mutuals, clearly spells mob mentality.
I urge everyone to be aware of the dangers of this mentality. As it has not only affected me, but many other blogs too.
I have been harassed and threatened numerous times. Both in my own inbox and via anons on @tojioffline and @tojioffline2. This is only a few, as I've deleted most without screenshots.
This is not holding someone accountable, this is not activism, this is bullying.
I want to end this off by saying that I am a human being and I have made mistakes, but holding a magnifying glass up to each and every one of them, is not fair. I have acknowledged, and apologised for any I have made, and hope that this can be put behind us.
I am finally putting this to rest. Being bombarded with several claims that were not only misreadings but also a clear grab at drama, has been extremely exhausting. If anyone wants further clarification, you are more than welcome to privately message me. I will not reply to anons, burn books nor 'callout posts' any further.
I will be taking some much needed time for myself, but rest assured that I will not be leaving. I am prepared to have open conversations of anything listed above, but any hostility will be met with a block or will be ignored. Thank you for reading through, and good night.
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