Aaaaaah! I literally just rolled out of my first law exam! Holy cow guys! I'm soooo sorry for being completely AWOL, but my brain was a mushy mess of blllllergh!
Of course you can! I’m super busy right now with uni (I feel like I need to tattoo this on my forehead along with an apology) but I’ll definitely get back to you ❤️.
your Naoya and Mahogara series are genuinely amazing. especially Naoya you really made the perfect dissonance between the old and new Naoya in flashbacks to the present. It reminds me that it’s NAOYA ZENIN whenever I get too used to the new him, it’s like a brand new slap in the face each time! Its addicting, your writing is amazing!🤍
Thank you! 😍 I really struggled to work out how to integrate the flashback scenes into the story without it being jarring, or it being a random scene dotted into the story every now and again. I wanted it to have context and some texture, something that would relate to the scene, I wanted it to read like how normal people might recall memories (almost), and I really hope I accomplished that.
What The Hell? I've Been Isekai'd Into A Tumblr Fic.
(Sukuna x Reader)
˖᯽ ݁˖· ─ Chap 3 ─ ˖᯽ ݁˖·
⁺˚⋆｡°✩ Summary ✩°｡⋆˚⁺
You get isekai'd into a Tumlbr fic of your favourite character, Sukuna. Yay! You get to join his harem of concubines and get bent like a pretzel. Only problem is...he's not interested.
It's time to change that.
‧₊˚✧ Warnings ✧˚₊‧
There will be some boning at some point so....18+, MDNI, lots of swearing, nudity, titty stuff.
(More warnings when there's something to actually warn you about)
‧₊˚✧ Word Count ✧˚₊‧
3k+.
˖᯽ ݁˖· ─ Previous Chapter ─ ˖᯽ ݁˖·
⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨Masterlist୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹
You knew catching Sukuna’s eye would be easier said than done.
The man treated anything that wasn’t blood, battle, or casual mass murder like it was beneath his divine notice. Getting close to him felt less like seduction, and more like a military campaign with terrible odds.
But still, you waited....and watched...and planned. And finally, an opening appeared.
Lord Sukuna was obsessive about his hygiene. Every night he spent at least an hour in his private bath, attendants scrubbing at every inch of that massive, tattooed body until he gleamed like polished bronze.
You cornered one of those lucky attendants in a narrow corridor, an unassuming man with shaky hands and the nervous energy of a rabbit in a wolf den.
“Lord S-Sukuna personally chose each attendant” the man stuttered, back pressed flat to the wall. You had him caged, one palm planted beside his head, the other on your hip. You’d even made him squat a little so you could loom over him for maximum effect.
He swallowed hard, almost sounding like a frog, voice strangled as he squeaked out. “He’ll be furious if anyone else enters his chambers without permission.”
You rolled your eyes, then pinned him with another sweet smile. “If anything goes wrong, I’ll take full responsibility, okay?” You reached up and gently patted his head. He flinched at first, then slowly melted under the touch like a tense cat. “So just leave everything to me. Worst case, I’ll tell him I knocked you out cold, hit you with a rock like bam! Whatever sounds believable.”
His wide eyes glistened with something between awe and terror. “You might die” he breathed.
You shrugged, still petting him like a good boy.
“Get dick or die trying, you know... put that in my eulogy." The words left your mouth with attempted gravitas, but landed like a wet fart. The attendant’s face flushed crimson, he suddenly couldn’t meet your gaze, staring fixedly at the floor between your feet instead.
“Anyway” you continued, thoroughly pleased with yourself, “you know the plan. After he’s settled in the bath, you slip out quietly. Leave the door open just a crack for me. Got it?”
He gave a tiny, jerky nod, eyes still glued to the ground.
You grinned and gave his head one last affectionate pat before spinning on your heel. “Good boy. Don’t worry, I’ve got this.”
With that, you sauntered off down the corridor, silky layers swishing around you , already mentally picking out the dirtiest, most scandalous Heian-era underwear you could find.
Because if Sukuna thought physical indulgence was a weakness, you were about to become the most tempting, most infuriating weakness he’d ever encountered.
...
Twenty minutes later you're crouched outside his private bathing chamber, your heart hammering. Steam curled from beneath the sliding door like smoke from a dragon’s lair. The faint sound of water lapping against wood drifted out to you, followed by the low, rhythmic scrub of cloths over skin.
The attendant had done his part. The door sat open, just a finger’s width, but enough for you to peek in.
You took one deep, steadying breath, adjusted the scandalously loose robe you’d thrown on, and pushed the door open.
Hot, fragrant steam rolled over you in a thick wave, a scent you'd smelt on him in passing, something so unmistakably him.
The bath was enormous, carved from stone and sunk into the floor, steam rising into the air in lazy spirals. The lanterns that lined the wall cast a golden light across wet muscle and black tattoos that seemed to shift and breathe with every movement.
Sukuna lounged against the far edge, four arms draped casually over the stone rim, pink hair damp and clinging to his neck. Water beaded and slid down the hard planes of his chest, tracing every delicious ridge of muscle. The abdominal mouth sat half-submerged, occasionally licking droplets from the surface with lazy flicks of its tongue.
He hadn’t noticed you... yet.
You stepped fully inside, bare feet silent on the warm stone. The door slid shut behind you with a soft, final click that was far too loud in the steamy hush.
Heart hammering, you moved quickly, slipping behind him before common sense could catch up. A wide wooden ladle rested on the bath’s edge, which you scooped up and dipped into the water. With a shaky hand, you tipped it slowly across the broad, hardened planes of his back and shoulders.
If he suspected anything amiss, he gave no sign. His eyes remained closed, only the slightest roll of powerful shoulders, the slow tilt of his head from side to side as he stretched the thick column of his neck. Muscle bunched and released under glistening skin, black markings shifted like living shadows with every subtle movement.
The sight was delicious, obscene in its clarity. Your mouth watered so fast you nearly choked on it, drool threatened at the corner of your lips. You swallowed hard, thighs pressing together beneath the loose robe.
“Don’t just stand there...” he growled, voice low and rough, head still tilted back against the stone rim. “Do your job.”
You snatched up the washcloth, nerves jangled. Starting at his shoulders, you began scrubbing in slow, indulgent circles. Your hands quickly grew bolder, fingers pressing into every dip and valley of hard muscle. The cloth slipped lower, gliding over the broad expanse of his back, then around to his chest.
You leaned in closer, subtly pressing your body against his shoulders, face hovering just shy of his throat. The scent of him, warm skin, salt, and something metallic and dangerously addictive, flooded your senses. For a while you kept up the pretense, cloth moving in lazy strokes.
Then the washcloth slid from your fingers entirely, sinking forgotten into the water.
Your bare hands took over.
Greedy, hungry fingers, spread wide as they roamed across his chest, thumbs brushing deliberately over dusky nipples. You caught the tight buds just right and earned the smallest hitch in his breath.
His eyes snapped open, his head turning sharply, those four crimson slits locked onto your salacious, shit-eating grin.
“Good evening, Lord Sukuna” you purred, voice dripping honey and pure trouble.
He jolted, the bathwater sloshing violently over the rim, splashing across the stone floor.
“What are you doing in here?”
You let the loose robe slip from one shoulder, the silk whispering down, baring the elegant curve of your collarbone and the soft swell of one breast. His eyes dropped to follow the movement, lingering there, before snapping back up to your face.
“Well...” you continued, voice low and thick with challenge, “I heard the King of Curses likes to keep things… clean.”
A single drop of water fell from the wet tips of his pink hair, sliding down the hard line of his shoulder and catching the lantern light like liquid gold.
One clawed hand tightened on the rim of the bath until the stone creaked.
The abdominal mouth parted with a wet sound, the thick tongue slid out, tasting the suddenly heavier, steam-thickened air.
Sukuna’s upper lip curled, a slightly malevolent smile gracing his face.
“You really do have a death wish” he rumbled, the deep vibration rolled straight through your ribs and shot lightning south between your legs.
You didn’t retreat. Instead, your hand slipped a little lower, fingertips just teasing the surface of the water.
“Maybe...” you breathed, letting the robe slide another dangerous inch. “But I’m betting even you can’t ignore an offer like this when it walks in willing and half-naked.”
He let loose a low, growled warning, carmine eyes flicking down to track your hand as it dipped beneath the water.
The tongue on his stomach found your fingers first.
The sensation was bizarre, filthy and electrifying all at once. It was thick, hot, and far too dexterous, flicking across your fingertips, pressing between them like it wanted to lick every trace of your hand clean.
You gave a breathless laugh, leaning further over him, breasts pressing firmly against his broad shoulders as both arms wrapped loosely around his head.
The tongue continued its lazy, thorough exploration, curling, lapping, and sliding slick between your digits.
You shuddered hard, a soft, involuntary moan slipping from your lips before you could stop it.
“God, you’re fucking sexy” you whispered, turning your face to press an open-mouthed kiss against the hard angle of his jaw.
He shifted beneath you, almost imperceptibly at first, then more deliberately. His massive frame arched just slightly into your touch while that relentless tongue lavished attention on your fingers.
You wondered, delirious on your own bravery, how far he would actually let you go tonight.
One clawed hand rose from the water, dripping, hovering inches from your throat as if deciding whether to push you away… or drag you closer.
Those thick fingers wrapped around the back of your neck, skin as hot as forged iron. He pressed you harder against him, tilting his head to the side to give you more room, his eyes slipping shut with a low, reluctant rumble that vibrated straight through his chest into yours.
You giggled, a high, breathless, completely unhinged sound, before pressing sloppy, open-mouthed kisses along the heated column of his throat. Your teeth grazed his skin as bit down just enough to dimple the flesh, sucking hard enough to leave a dark mark blooming on the King of Curses like a brand. The thought sent a wild thrill racing down your spine. You...marking him.
Your hand finally slipped lower, greedy and impatient for more, expecting nothing but smooth, unadulterated skin and hard muscle.
Instead, your fingers met the sodden hem of fabric.
You pulled back, lifting your head from his neck with an outright foul look twisting your face.
“Why the hell are you wearing pants in the bath?” you grumbled, voice thick with frustration.
His eyes fluttered open, the usual sharp crimson softened into something almost hazy. You’d never imagined seeing the Sukuna like this, all pliable and little undone beneath your hands. The realization made you stupidly giddy, a manic little laugh bubbling up before you could swallow it.
“That’s how one bathes” he muttered, voice rough.
You huffed, then lowered your mouth again and bit down particularly hard on the same spot. The shudder that ripped through his massive frame was downright delicious. “Could you stand for me, My Lord?” you asked sweetly, the title dripping with mock obedience.
He hesitated, just for a heartbeat, before rising slowly from the water.
It was obscene.
Water cascaded down four powerful arms and the carved lines of his torso, highlighting every cut of muscle, every shifting mark. Droplets clung the sharp V of his hips, the sopping fabric of his pants clung shamelessly to the obvious, hardening bulge beneath, leaving almost nothing to the imagination.
You gently urged him to sit on the wide stone edge of the bath, hands sliding over wet skin. Your eyes zeroed in on that straining outline with zero shame.
You let your own robe slip from your shoulders entirely, the silk whispering to pool at your feet. You stood completely bare before him, skin still flushed from the steam and excitement, enhanced curves on full display.
Sukuna’s gaze roved over you like a physical touch, dragging slowly from the apex of your thighs, up the soft dip of your waist, lingering on the hardened peaks of your nipples, then higher to the line of your shoulders and the messy fall of your hair. Those four eyes felt scorching.
You stepped into the bath with him, warm water rising up to your knees with a gentle splash, this small shift in power felt electric. He watched you now, like you were the predator, not the other way around.
You moved closer, hips swaying with every careful step through the water, one hand reaching out to trace the waistband of his drenched pants, teasing the edge where fabric met skin.
“These...” you murmured, voice low and powerful, “are in my way.”
He growled, but there was no real heat behind the threat. His thighs parted just slightly as you pressed between them, water lapping at your waist now.
The abdominal mouth hovered near your stomach, tongue flicking out to taste the air between you with hungry curiosity.
Your fingers hooked into the wet fabric and tugged experimentally.
Sukuna’s hand shot out, catching your wrist in a grip that was firm but not crushing.
For one suspended second, the only sounds were the gentle lap of water and the heavy rhythm of your breathing.
His four eyes bored into yours, pupils blown wide.
“You push too far, little concubine” he rumbled, voice vibrating through the steam.
You leaned in until your lips brushed the shell of his ear, breasts pressing against his chest, nipples grazing wet skin.
“Then stop me” you whispered, nipping at his earlobe. “Or… help me take them off.”
The tension in the air crackled like lightning ready to strike, his grip on your wrist tightened, and the mouth on his stomach licked a slow, deliberate stripe along your ribs.
You gave his ear one last salacious flick with your tongue, tasting salt and skin. Then you sank lower, dragging yourself down his body inch by inch while those four cerise eyes tracked every movement.
Finally, you found yourself knelt between his thick, powerful thighs. The heat rolled off him in waves, rivalling the steaming bathwater. Your hands grasped the soaked waistband of his pants and tugged. With a minor, almost lazy shift of his hips, the fabric peeled down, clinging stubbornly to wet skin before finally giving way. You yanked them free.
One cock sprang out, heavy and proud.
Then a second followed right behind it.
You sat back hard on your heels, water sloshing violently around you.
“Bah!” The sound tore out of you, a loud, startled, downright undignified sound that echoed around the room. “What the fuck...there’s two?! Why is there two?!”
Your voice cracked so high you were certain half the pavilion had heard the scream. It echoed off the stone walls like a startled chicken in a cathedral.
Sukuna had the absolute audacity to look offended. With a deep huff rumbled from his chest, he turned his face away, the sharp lines of his cheeks flushing a shade that nearly matched his crimson eyes. “There’s supposed to be.”
“Uh, I think the fuck there ain’t!” you hissed, trying, and failing spectacularly, to stop yourself from glancing down at them.
They were… pretty. Ridiculously, unfairly pretty. Thick and perfectly curved, ruddy at their flushed tips, veins decorating the shafts like they’d been carved by some perfectly perverted artist.
If someone had asked you to draw the ideal cock, these two bastards would have been the reference material.
“Well, what do you have?” Sukuna asked, voice dripping with dry curiosity as he glanced pointedly down at your crotch, like he expected you to whip out twins of your own.
“One” you grouched, instinctively covering yourself with one hand. “I have one. A normal, single, perfectly respectable one.” You stared at the pair bobbing gently in the water between you. “Where the fuck am I even gonna put the other one?”
The thought alone made your brain short-circuit. You’d never done butt stuff, and the idea had always seemed like a one-way ticket to pain and regret.
“Butt?” Sukuna seemed to echo your thoughts aloud, one brow arching.
“I’ll cut your cock off, both of them, if you put either anywhere near my poop shoot” you snapped, eyes narrowing.
He looked offended again, those vermillion eyes skated off to the corner of the room while a distinctly petulant pout tugged at his lips. Now that was a picture, The King of Curses, pouting because you’d threatened his dicks.
You dragged a hand down your face, water dripping from your fingers. “I’ll think of something” you muttered, flapping a flippant hand like you were negotiating takeout options instead of figuring out how to handle double demon dick.
You repositioned yourself between his thighs, knees sliding on the smooth stone floor of the bath.
The two cocks twitched under your gaze, already glistening with water and something else. The abdominal mouth hovered just above them, tongue flicking out occasionally like it was offering unhelpful advice.
You reached forward again, slower this time, wrapping one hand around the base of the first. Your fingers barely met, the second rested hot and insistent against the back of your hand. Both pulsed under your touch.
Sukuna’s breath hitched, a sharp, barely audible suck of air, but you caught it.
“Two of you” you whispered. “This is either the best night of my life or I’m about to need a wheelchair and a doctor.”
One of his clawed hands came down, threading through your quickly dampening hair. He did not push or pull, just rested it there with surprising gentleness, the touch sending sparks racing down your spine.
“Still think you can handle me, little concubine?” he rumbled, voice low and rough, four eyes half-lidded as he watched you.
You looked up at him through damp lashes, a wild, manic grin spreading across your face despite the sheer logistical nightmare between his legs.
“Watch me try” you breathed.
Your thumb brushed over the slick head of the first cock, slow and teasing. The second jerked against your wrist in response, Sukuna’s grip in your hair tightened just enough to sting.
This was going to be fun.
You leaned in closer, breath ghosting over the flushed, sensitive tip. It jerked sharply in response, as if desperate to leap toward your mouth.
Sukuna’s four eyes stayed locked on you, half-lidded and burning, lips parted around heavy, ragged puffs of air that stirred the thick steam swirling between you.
“Tell me what you want” you purred, voice low and velvety smooth. Your hand dragged slowly up the thick shaft, squeezing just a little. A shaky exhale tore from his chest as his head tipped back the smallest fraction, jaw clenching so hard the muscle stood out in sharp relief.
“I’m just… so innocent” you murmured, fluttering your lashes like a demure little flower while your thumb teased the slick slit at the head.
“Don’t” he growled out in warning, the word rough and strained.
You fought down the wicked smirk threatening to break free and tilted your head with coy, feigned ignorance instead. Another slow, slick pump of your fist, thumb circling the sensitive head, pressing lightly into the slit.
His hips twitched upwards, hard, one powerful thigh spread wider, opening up for you like an invitation. Both hands gripped the edge of the bath until the stone creaked under his fingers, claws pressing divots into the stone.
“My Lord…” you hummed sweetly, finally pressing your lips to the hot length. You dragged them slowly upward, peppering wet, open-mouthed kisses along every veined inch. “Do you want me to rub?”
His breath hitched again, the hand tangled in your hair tightening by a fraction like a silent, desperate plea for more.
You weren’t satisfied, you wanted words.
“Or maybe… just lick?” You dragged your tongue in one long, filthy stripe from root to tip along the sensitive underside. A pained, guttural groan ripped from his throat. His head finally fell all the way back, throat bobbing as he swallowed, the sight sending a thrill straight down between your legs.
“Or would you like me to suck on you?” you whispered right against the glistening mushroom tip, lips teasingly brushing the swollen head. Pre-cum coated your mouth like a shiny, sticky gloss.
His head snapped back down, mouth falling open, breath coming in shaky bursts. You parted your lips, took just the tip inside, and gave it one slow, gentle suck before pulling off with a wet, lascivious drag of your plush lips.
“Fuck” he hissed, the muscles of his stomach flexing hard, rippling beautifully under the black markings, the mouth there opening and closing with a smack of its lips.
You stroked him again, almost moaning yourself when another thick bead of pre-cum slid slowly down the underside, glistening like an opalescent pearl in the lantern light. “Do something, you damned temptress.”
“My Lord!” you gasped, feigning deep hurt. You pulled your hands away completely and folded them primly in your lap, looking as innocent and contrite as a scandalised maiden. “I’m sorry. Should I leave?”
“No!” The word burst out almost like a yelp. His hand flew from your hair to the nape of your neck, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise.
Those flaming crimson eyes bored into you, irritation barely leashed behind barely restrained hunger. His mouth pressed into a tight line as he forced the words out through gritted teeth. “Don’t leave. Just…”
“Suck?” you offered brightly.
His spine snapped ramrod straight at your blunt word.
“Lick?” You tilted your head once more.
“Just… do something” he finally ground out, but it came dangerously close to a whine.
You didn’t give him a single second to rethink it.
Like some possessed serpent, you opened wide and took him in as deep as your throat would allow. Almost immediately, you realised you'd been overconfident.
Your throat convulsed around the thick head as it pressed against the back of your mouth. A soft gag shuddered through you, your jaw already aching from the brutal stretch.
Above you, Sukuna nearly howled. He leaned back heavily on two of his four arms, head thrown back, the filthiest, most broken groan ripping free from his chest.
The hand on your nape pressed you down just a little further before he caught himself. The grip softened almost immediately, resting heavy and warm against your neck like a gentle weight.
You began bobbing eagerly, tongue plastered flat to the underside, pressing and curling to mold around every ridge and throbbing vein. He tasted salty and warm, with the faintest floral tang of the bath oils clinging to his skin. You hummed around him in pure, shameless enjoyment.
Your other hand reached up, wrapping around the second cock, stroking it in perfect rhythm with your mouth. When you glanced up through damp lashes, a pang of genuine sorrow hit you.
If only you were back in the modern world with a camera, because this moment deserved to be immortalised.
He was a vision, all devastating and wrecked.
One large hand lifted to clamp over his own mouth, desperately trying to muffle the sounds spilling out. A deep red flush painted his face and chest, veins standing out sharp and prominent against his skin. And then his slutty waist began to undulate, hips thrusting up into your mouth in shallow, needy rolls.
You gagged again but forced your throat to relax, whole body throbbing with heat as the King of Curses used your mouth. He slid himself into your warm, wet heat over and over, the slick, obscene sounds echoing through the steamy chamber.
You braced one hand on his powerful thigh while the other kept pumping his second cock with eager twists. Your mouth flooded with more salty taste, and you swallowed desperately each time he hit the back of your throat.
He was close, you could tell, the groans rising behind his palm, growing louder and more frantic.
You wanted his eyes, needed to see his face when he fell apart.
The hand on his thigh slid higher, tapping lightly against his stomach.
He jolted violently, both hands on your head snapping away, hips sagging against the stone.
He looked shocked, almost appalled at his own lack of control.
You pulled off with a wet gasp, swallowing thickly before rasping through a slightly raw throat, “Don’t stop. I just wanted to see your face when you cum.”
His top lip curled into a vicious snarl, teeth bared. Then he grabbed you again, desperately, and pushed his cock back between your lips.
You hummed in delight, staring straight up at him as he thrust into your mouth once more.
The pleasure looked obscene painted across his features, his brows drawn tight, jaw clenched, teeth gritted, a dark flush burning across the bridge of his nose, eyes wild and glassy.
It didn’t take much more.
His hips stuttered, both hands pressed you down until your nose was buried in the neat patch of hair at his base. A deep, guttural groan of pure relief tore from him as he spilled hot and thick down your throat, enough to make you gag, eyes screwing shut while you struggled to swallow every drop.
His other cock throbbed hard in your grip, pulsing as cum splattered across your cheek and over your fingers in messy, warm streaks.
He finally released you, his hands dropping back to the stone.
You pulled back slowly, still catching the last spurts on your tongue, letting the thick, salty fluid coat your mouth. Before you could swallow again, his hand suddenly cupped your jaw, yanking you away entirely.
“What are you doing?” His eyes were wide with raw horror. “Don’t swallow that.”
The command only made you want to swallow more, just to see his reaction.
You made a dramatic show of it, grinning up at him like the gremlin you were, opening your mouth wide so he could see the mess glistening on your tongue, then closing it with an audible, theatrical gulp.
“Uraume!” he roared, head snapping toward the door.
Ice immediately flooded your veins. Had you fucked up? Were you about to be flash-frozen for making the King of Curses cum?
He turned back to you, fingers already prying at your lips, trying to force them open. “Hold still. I need to make you puke.”
“Fuckin’...stop that!” you hissed, nearly biting his fingers in the process. “It’s cum, not poison!”
The door slid open with a soft rasp.
Uraume stepped inside, expression bored at first, until their eyes fully registered the scene.
You naked and kneeling between Sukuna’s spread thighs in the bath, cum still glistening on your cheek and dripping from your chin.
Sukuna, also naked, fingers still attempting to breach your mouth while panic and post-orgasm haze warred across his face.
“Uraume” Sukuna growled, voice strained and awkward, “we need to make her sick. She just… swallowed some… bodily fluids.”
Uraume didn’t move.
Their gaze flicked slowly between the two of you, completely deadpan.
You couldn’t help it, another tiny, hysterical giggle bubbling up.
Quickly, you scooted backward into the bath and dropped yourself until only your chin remained above the water. Steam curled lazily around your flushed face as you stared up at the ceiling, heart still racing, the unmistakable taste of Sukuna still thick on your tongue.
Uraume’s voice finally cut through the steam, flat and unimpressed as ever.
One can see that such malicious accusations stem from a profound lack of talent and an abundance of envy, for it takes a singular kind of vulgarity to send a message so uncouth. Do not burden your heart with the utterances of a vermin. Those words are hollow, empty of merit and substance.
Your Sylus fanfiction is a delight to read, and your skill as a writer is unmistakable. I look forward to your future chapters with great anticipation. I hope you are faring well, Willow. 🤍
Oh my gosh, I thought for a moment Shakespeare themselves had messaged me! 🥰 Ahhhh, what a beautiful thing to receive!
Your words mean more to me than I can say. I won't pretend the message didn't hurt, because it did, and then finding the posts in the "burn book" felt like another slap in the face. When I was young I was taught that if you haven't got anything nice to say, don't say anything.
It's obvious that little rule is not being taught anymore 😣.
But I'll keep writing, and I'll keep answering questions about the stories I write.
University is about to swamp me again, so post may come a little slower, but I'm not stopping. I won't be chased away from something I care about this much.
I have honestly grown tired of todays fandom culture and it’s toxic push for purity checks and absolutism, many of them claim it’s for purely to push for accountability and yet they use underhanded tactics like hate campaigns, dogpiling, accusations without any tangible proof or evidence other than an outdated piece of information they use to justify their claims, and not to mention these burn books, this shit is so highschool and it’s not even funny.
It’s borderline cliquey, no matter how you look at it, if you really think a persons writing is ai, speak with decorum, ask like a normal human being instead of going on these accounts to air out whatever preconceptions you’ve already made up about a person and have a conversation like an adult.
I’ve seen this happen way too often nowadays it’s exhausting to see, instead of having proper communication they go to accounts like these burn books, it really doesn’t help their case at all, it really only fuels my own conceptions that these guys are really doing this more out of ego and wanting a sense of control and social power rather than genuine “purity” whatever the hell that means.
I understand the concern of ai and I think that’s a valid and an important thing to question, what’s not valid is your underlying intent and how you approach and deliver on problems like this, I feel like we’ve gone back to the Middle Ages, instead of having open discussions we result to throwing up our pitchforks, tell me when has that ever worked for anyone other than the people who decided to take up arms in the first place? Even if your intentions are good it doesn’t excuse bad methods.
I am genuinely so saddened that you had to be one of the many people who have to deal with things like this. Peoples lack of due process, grace, and nuance, in the internet today is honestly such a surreal thing to see.
Beautifully written!
It really is just a witch-hunt, and it's so...confusing. I wouldn't even know how to go about proving that I'm not using AI, god I feel stupid even saying it. Should I record myself writing? Do I show you how I plan each chapter piece by piece, researching names and family members despite there being very little information, how I keep a thread of all the things I've written previously!
Like, it's exhausting. I even stare at pictures of characters to give myself some image to reference to. I'm trying my hardest, I don't get money for this, it doesn't benefit me much in any way, so like...why?
I literally spend so long writing this, I had to take a break because I had university work to do, and to come back and immediately be accused when it took me so long to get that chapter out, and already I'm swamped again is disheartening.
I've seen so many writers leave recently, and genuinely, the only ones left will be the ones using AI to write, so if that's what they want, go ahead. I'm trying to write something that's not just porn, I'm trying my hardest to write something with a plot and some emotion.
Part of me wonders if some of it's jealously, or ableism. I am autistic, so there is an element of my writing that's sort of...robotic. I struggle sometimes to convey emotion, and I repeat myself at times, I also see things I like about others writing and I try to emulate that.
This person literally said it was laughable I was answering questions, like they have some right to stop me. I wrote every single word, I've planned every single word, I picked the flowers they planted in the garden, even down to the colours, I picked Y/N's job, I even looked up houses that I could place the characters in and reference to it constantly! The glass wall, the empty garden, the greenhouse!
I'm flummoxed as to how I can even defend myself! It's just a miserable thing to experience when I'm already stressed enough.
I'd really have appreciated if this person had come to me directly and I could have provided any proof they like, my Milanote page, my bullet point plan, my 53k word document, my overuse of onelook 😂.
Whoever see's this and thinks I'm using AI, please just contact me, I'll try to answer any questions you have, provide any proof you'd like, just don't go out there and drag my work through the mud.
they probably did out it int ai unfortunately :( honestly don’t even worry about it, i feel like it’s very easy to tell it’s not ai because every writing has a style, ai doesn’t really, it’s just a blurb of information, your writing however has a consistent theme
Thank you sweets. I should have ignored it 😊 and I will do in the future!
are they seriously accusing you of ai?? your writing is consistent, not to mention ai wouldn’t have been able to memory half of this fic.
Honestly, I don't care that much. It hurts a little because I spend so much of my spare time writing it, but I guess it was inevitable that I'd get it. It's so hard to proooove that it's not AI as AI is based on human language and human language patterns, so how do I stop writing like a human? I dunno. Oh well 🤣
Maybe I should post a video of me writing, but that would be rather dull, and people might be shocked by how many times I use onelook to find word alternatives 😂. Hey google, what's another word for 'said'. 😬
Plus, I seriously hope this person didn't put it in an AI detector or else imma be pisssssssed!
Well that's pathetic 😣 Not that I have to defend myself, but the only thing I use to help my writing is grammarly, and that's because I'm dyslexic. So please, if you don't like my writing, write something yourself instead of commenting things like this.
I already devoured all the chapters of your Sylus fic. 😂 The angst and story build-up is so good, I can't wait to read the next chapters of "A Place to Rest My Heart"! 🐱
Caracal Sylus is so special to me. 🥹❤️
I haven't updated that in some time! Oh my goooooood! 😣 I'm so sorry. I swear I'll update as soon as I can. I'm so glad you're enjoying 😘
Girl I know you have heard this a lot but you’re one of the best authors here, I usually never reread the fics I have read before but whenever you don’t post I go back and reread your old ones. Please never stop writing.
Oh gosh, not the old ones 🫣Aaaaaaah!
Thank you so much, I'm so glad you're enjoying them 💋 Your support is very much appreciated 💕
if answering this is too much of a spoiler then feel free to ignore it, no worries 💕 but i’m curious if naoya will ever go back to his original self st some in the story? the concept of Second Chances in general is so interesting im obsessed 🥹
I really wish I could, but I want to leave it as a surpriiiiiise! 😅 I hope people will like it though.
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