jupitermarss

[jupitermarss]

How to spot AI use in fics: an unofficial & friendly guide (July 2025)

Hi everyone~ I don’t think this post will come as a surprise to anybody. It is a joint effort with @cb97percent—a lot of the research you see on here is hers. We spent a considerable amount of time trying to understand ChatGPT in order to recognize its patterns. It doesn’t mean, however, that it helped us understand the people who sit in front of it, feed it a few prompts to generate fics, and then post those fics as theirs on here or onto other online spaces. That, I will never fathom. 

But if you’re like me, like us, and like the few people who have voiced their wish to avoid those AI-assisted or AI-generated fics but have no idea what they might look like, this post might be for you. And… this other post, beautifully and eloquently put together by our very miss @cb97percent, shows a perhaps even darker side of the story. It displays GPT’s “personality”, and how people can spot it. (Because, yes—some of these accounts use it to interact with their audience)

It’s just tumblr, it’s just rpf/fanfic, why do I think it’s so important: because what happens in subculture spaces matters. What the audience chooses to read, to give notes/likes/reblogs/interactions to is a vote of sorts. You can see it as a form of election almost. What gets interactions prevails. So, readers cast their votes every day by scrolling the tags, sampling, reading, and then choosing to leave comments or interactions, or not. So if more and more people use AI to generate fics, post them on here, and if more of the audience gives them interactions, soon enough, it’s all that will remain on fanfic spaces. 

And what happens in subculture spaces usually shifts in culture. We are already seeing it. By allowing it to happen in our online spaces, our ao3, our tumblr, and others, we are saying: let it happen in our novels, too. In our films, our video games, our music, our visual arts. And while I realize it’s pretty much inevitable, I decided I would not be passive about it. 

So—a few tips to help notice AI-generated content in fics (but it got longer than I thought it would)

This is knowledge I gathered by running limited experiments primarily on ChatGPT and a little bit on Gemini. With time, those AIs will learn more and this post will be outdated for the most part. I am also NOT an expert at ALL. This is really just based on those experiments and the things I saw on tumblr or other fic spaces.

↬ Clinical language: Most fics are generated on ChatGPT. It has an unmistakable, clinical voice that mimics human emotion without actually breaching it—look for overly poetic sentences but short paragraphs + a lot of paragraphs breaks. The lyricism won't serve a purpose in the storytelling, it will be hollow. It's a strange feeling once you spot it: that line between clinical and lyric. Uncanny.

If you know me, you know I'm all for imagery and metaphors, but... The prompt here was two friends reunited after a long time + friends to lovers. Oh, and I should probably get this out of the way—GPT adores everything sacred and religious and holy. It might be an easy shortcut when there is yearning to be written—what else are you gonna do when you've never felt it or anything else?

You can see how quick it is to go from one thing to the other, there's no lingering on any emotion or feeling, just clean vocabulary, clinical, short sentences. And holy stuff. So much religious stuff.

↬ Dialogue tags: ask any seasoned author “how can I replace the ‘said’ dialogue tag and they’ll probably just tell you to use said. It's basically invisible and allows for a better flow in both reading and writing because it doesn't catch the eye. I found that ChatGPT sometimes used "said" and other times avoided it at all costs—there was no in-between. However, other times, it didn't really use any, since its sentences are so straightforward.

And then it will just throw any other words at you:

I've seen a lot—“You melt.” “You cling to him.” "He grins." All that stuff.

Also: This isn't something I can provide an example for because it's something you feel with your heart, but humans are awkward! They are uncomfortable in romantic or other situations. They have humor that relates to culture, to past experiences, to real life.

GPT is only creating an illusion of that. True love, but make it under 10k. To me, GPT's generated stuff feels like a collab between Hallmark movies and Booktok. It utilizes shortcuts to make readers think of emotions as opposed to authors who evoke them.

↬ Unusual text formatting: I’m aware that there have been trends on here with certain formatting styles with bold and italics for example. I’ve seen it in the last two-ish years in fics themselves, but in the last few months, with the growing use of AI, it’s exponential. 

How a human author would use italics: to emphasize a word in a sentence, when there is a written letter in a chapter (or even a text message), song lyrics, etc. You get it. 

How AI uses italics: Well, for a first, it uses it a lot. No, I mean, like. A LOT. It won’t just emphasize one word out of the sentence, it will emphasize entire parts of it using italics, which isn’t something that was ever typical in a novel-like genre before. Quick example: 

How a human author would use boldface: maybe to emphasize a word in a paragraph that's already italicized, or I know sometimes people use it to mark the passage of time/time jumps, etc. It's really not something you see a lot in the text itself otherwise, except for occasional stylistic choices with purpose, or in text message format again (or chat, like a social media AU etc), something of the sort.

How AI uses boldface: well. It uses it a lot. I've seen it in all sorts of ways. Randomly on a character's name, or the first time a character is mentioned in a story/chapter. Chatgpt uses boldface on character's names a lot. Or on words of a sentence that the AI considers "dark" or more harsh. Example:

(was that another religious metaphor? what a surprise!) But I think those examples speak for themselves.

What about the em dash? Everyone's talking about the em dash.

Yeah well—I'm a huge fan of the em dash. (the irony...) It's true that AIs use them a lot, but so do many authors including myself.

HOWEVER, I've noticed something, and it's that in many cases, humans use the em dash without spaces between the words—like this. And the AIs often put a space between the dash and the word — like that. Because you see one or the other doesn't necessarily prove anything, I know, but I still thought I'd mention it.

↬ Random indented text: This is also something that a human can do, I'm aware. But ChatGPT, by default, uses indented text a lot (which are 'blockquotes' over there). I think it's because at it's core, it's a research tool and it's more of a visual thing. It'll give you a paragraph and then emphasize something using an indentation, making it look like note-taking almost.

In the case of fiction, of a fic—it'll use that indentation on a dialogue often. To me, it feels like it's doing it for some sort of dramatic effect or something. As such:

(in this example, the prompt was simple: a handsome, mysterious man named Jinu 🤭 meets MC for the first time. I didn't input any other specifics regarding context. It seems GPT made the location some coffee shop, a common booktok trope.)

By the way, you can't make this up. You have it all here: the blockquote/indented text, the italics, the boldface, the vocabulary and succinct sentences...

⇉ Why it's important: When you copy paste directly from the GPT website onto tumblr, those blockquotes adopt the "Indented" text format from the tumblr text editor. By default—so it could be a decent indicator of AI-assisted or generated text that hasn't even been edited to look otherwise.

It looks like this.

↬ Oat milk? : There was no place for these observations in this post but it is almost humorous the way ChatGPT suggested or reused some of the same flavors and scents over and over during this experiment. If GPT was a real person, it would be really into coffees or teas with oat milk (often no ice for cold drinks, or extra hot for warm) and vetiver-centered scents. I don't know what to do with this information, but I cannot unsee it. It really likes eucalyptus too, tonka bean... I'm not sure what it means, but I truly cannot unsee it. #whowantsanoatmilkcappuccino

↬ The rate at which works are posted: It takes a lot of time to write 10k words, and that's before all the revising, formatting, making your post banners (if applicable) etc. To be able to release this much every week is any author's wet dream, which would be desirable by many readers. But there's decent speed, then there's inhuman.

We all want to be this productive—but is it actually realistic? Over extended periods of time? Without periods of quiet, of struggle? Could even Stephen King himself pull it off? Run a blog full-time, answer asks elaborately with all this formatting (btw, it does take time to format on tumblr if you're not just copy/pasting from GPT), upkeep lore posts about our fics (GPT loves lore, by the way. don't know why. it really wants to give you lore and build around its own scenes), have little to no downtime.

This is really just my personal opinion, but this is how I know my author is human. A lack of time. Struggles. A crack in the porcelain. Incomplete WIPs, genuine excitation over them though. Incomplete events—but still trying. Trying different things in different stories. A voice that is theirs. Having a voice in the first place.

Writing out of passion and not as a performative act.

So... A continuous flow of content and posts... would bring in a lot of readers, I'm sure. People want to be entertained. Constantly. They want content and they want it from a reliable source, somewhere they know they won't have to wait for the next chapter. But when things are too good to be true—sometimes, it just means they are not true.

In conclusion—if anybody even made it this far—it can be difficult to spot a GPT in the wild when you've never seen it, or never known that you've seen it. Hopefully, this and miss cb's post would have been any help to those for whom it is the case.

At the very least, I hope it made a few people aware that it is a situation that is happening not just in other places, other fandoms, or just hypothetically. It is very real. And it will have an impact on the culture that you will consume in the future. I would love to say that it's not to late to change things, but I'm not sure it would be true.

But maybe, by making people a little more aware, we can give their voices back to some human authors, those who use their souls as ink—not shortcuts.

If you did make it to here, thank you—thank you for caring about what you read, and for encouraging and supporting the people who write it.

[jupitermarss]

dumpling is being smothered…

[jupitermarss]

Oh shit...I just saw your 'please tag me/part 2' scolding post...fuck me...

I'm really sorry about that you can forget I asked, gawd I feel so bad rn... I'll probably read more before sending things in form now on, oi....

I'm very very sorry 😔. I hope you see this one before the first one 😫

embarrassment...

~kc 💗

haiii

don’t feel bad friend, it’s okayyy. i appreciate you if you like my stuff <33

answering your question from the first ask – for now i’m bias wrecked hard by chan so im not planning on writing anyone else but you never know 🙂‍↕️

[jupitermarss]

I think the "nerd wolf hybrid chan! x reader" anon was a suggestion lol

well, if you’re suggesting a hard thought, you’re gonna give a writer more than just a pairing 🙂‍↔️

otherwise i have literally zero contexts and ideas to bounce my thoughts off yk

[jupitermarss]

Five More Minutes | [B.C]

pairing : bangchan x fem!reader | 640 w. genre : smut [18+] warnings: oral sex, other boys present but they don't know it's happening

"You said 'In five minutes' five minutes ago, hyung. Please," Felix's voice is pleading from where he stands in Chan's bedroom doorway. He'd come over to the apartment just to play game with him and Jeongin - and the eldest was being stubborn and refusing to pull away from his work.

Sat at his desk, one leg bouncing and his hands typing idly at his laptop keyboard, Chan spares Felix a small glance. It's hesitant and he sighs out the moment his eyes lay on the younger who looks desperate for some gaming time. "I said, five minutes, Felix."

"Hyung, you've been working for at least the last few hours. Can't you just take a thirty minute break?"

Jeongin's voice is soft as he peeks in over Felix's shoulder. The two younger men stand in the doorway, leaning against the frame and peering in at the oldest who still refuses to budge; Hunched over his desk, posture so bad it makes Felix's back ache just looking at him. At least he looks somewhat comfortable in his big 'ol hoodie and sweats that drape off him like curtains they're so big.

Chan's hands curl against his keyboard. His breathing falters for just a moment and he sucks his lower lip into his mouth as if he's thinking it over. The corner of his lips is caught between his teeth, breath hitching once more before he finally gives them an answer.

"Five more minutes and then I promise, I'll be done."

Felix's eyes roll but he gives a small smile. It wasn't unlike Chan to want to wrap up his work before he left it - unlike Jisung who could just up and dip whenever he wanted without worrying about his files.

"Okay, okay! Five minutes and then we crush him in Mario Kart." Felix's fingers curl in Jeongin's shirt, gently tugging to get him to follow. The youngest trails behind his hyung, giggling under his breath at the way they'd gotten Chan to give in - Somewhat. At least he promised this time; Only five more minutes.

But Chan didn't really need that whole five minutes.

Because he was already filling your throat full of his cum.

His hands flexed against the polished wood of his desk, pinkie knocking into his mouse as he looks down at his lap. He leans back in his chair for the first time, the action causing his cock to slip out of your mouth slowly. You pull back just enough to look up at him, his cum dripping from your lips to streak down your chin.

"There's my girl." Your boyfriend coos, his hand pressing over your cheek. His thumb glides across your lower lip, wiping your mouth clean with a soft smile before his teeth sink into his own bottom lip. Seeing you like this - eyes teary from being held down on his cock when he leaned over to hide you from the boys earlier, cheeks flushed and lips swollen from sucking him off. The way spit clings around your mouth because you'd been choking and drooling all over him while he sat in your throat.

Chan sighs out, his head slowly tipping to the side as he watches you gasp for breath. "God, you're going to be the death of me." His thumb slides further into your mouth, gently pushing down on your tongue to watch spit pool around it - dripping out and onto his cock.

His eyes dart down, watching himself twitch and ache for more. You peek down as well and whimper, tipping your head to rest your cheek against his thigh. His free hand dips down to push at his sweats - tugging them just a little lower so you can have a better look as if you weren't just choking on it.

"Alright," Chan's gaze wanders back to the bedroom doorway. He sucks in a breath, slow and drawn out as he hums low in his chest. "Maybe a little more than five minutes."

Thank you for reading!

[jupitermarss]

BANG CHAN ✦ SKZ-TALKER GO! SAN FRANCISCO

[jupitermarss]

i get to gift one for free every month and i realised it goes so well with ur username <3

wtfff this is so cute 😭😭 thank you <333

i’ll wear it proudly

[jupitermarss]

nerd wolf hybrid chan! x reader :333

not sure if that’s a suggestion for a hard thought or… ? imma need more, babes

[jupitermarss]

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞?—𝘉𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘹 (𝘧𝘦𝘮) 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

A Stray Kids one shot

Synopsis: When's the best time to ask him for a new addition to the household? When he's in the middle of loving you obviously.

Warnings: SMUT 🔞. Unprotected sex. A bit rough then sweet, fluff fluff, a bit of humour, pet names.

Minors do no interact!!!

Note: Sorry for my inactivity, I've been busy with work and things, I didn't get much time to write. Here's a quick short one shot I came up with when waiting for the train.

If this isn't your thing, you're more than welcome to skip it. Reblogs, likes, comments and feedbacks are always appreciated.

ɪ'ᴠᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴏꜰ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ɪᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪʟʟɪᴏɴ ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ ʙᴜᴛ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴘᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴡʜᴇʀᴇ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ.

Word count:2.2k

𝑬𝑵𝑱𝑶𝒀!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Soft rain drops pattered gently against the windows, a soothing lullaby in the background of your dimly lit shared bedroom.

The air was thick with sex and love, sheets tangled around your bodies, skin to skin, breath on breath, limbs twined like muscle memory.

It wasn't a rough night but rather slow and sweet, the kind of night when even silence felt like a conversation.

Chan was hovering over you, his weight carefully bracing on his arm while his other hand held you, rocking his hips, letting out a gentle growl.

His mouth met the hollow of your throat, then your collarbones, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses as your legs wrapped loosely around his waist.

"So fucking good for me baby," his voice rumbled across your chest and you pulled him deeper, your walls fluttering around the thick length of his cock disappearing inside of your sloppy cunt.

A moan escaped your throat, nails dragging across his shoulder blades, the warmth between you building like the night had nowhere else to be.

You loved when he was like this. Focused. Gentle. Making love to you like he had all the time in the world.

Your wrapped your arms around his neck, making his eyes lock with yours, before you leaned up, pressing your lips on his, slipping your tongue past in, swallowing his sounds of pleasure.

You pulled back just a bit, to look back into his whiskey eyes, before the question that has been going through your mind for the last few days slipped out.

"Channie," you mumbled between a moan and a breathless giggle, voice quiet against the sound of flesh against flesh.

"Hmm?" His brows furrowed gently, lips lightly swollen.

“If I let you finish,” you murmured, barely holding back a smile, “can I get a cat?”

He blinked. Then froze mid thrust. Like he was trying to compute whether he heard you right while still buried inside you.

“…What?”

"Pretty please?" You cooed, raking your fingers through his sweat damp hair. "A small Ragdoll or a Persian or even an orange one. You can choose," you clenched around him involuntarily making him grunt as you spoke.

"Can we get a kitty?"

Chan was still frozen above you, blinking like his brain had just bluescreened. You watched, amused, as about five different emotions flickered across his face in rapid succession.

“…Did you just bribe me with sex for a cat?” he asked, breathless, hips twitching as if debating whether to punish you or pull out and give you a full interrogation.

You gave a small, devilish grin. “Depends. Is it working?”

He let out a groan—half frustration, half admiration—and pressed above you, still careful not to crush you with this weight, nose brushing yours. “You’re unbelievable,” he mumbled into your cheek, but you could feel the smile pulling at his lips.

“And yet,” you teased, "you’re still inside me."

His laugh was muffled against your throat. “I swear, you only pull this kind of shit when I’m literally balls deep in you.” He nipped at your jaw lightly, then pulled back just enough to look into your eyes again.

“A cat, baby?”

Before you could reply, his hips snapped forward in a hard thrust that made you gasp loudly, making you arch into him and he continued, tearing another gasp.

"You,"—thrust—"want a cat?" He pushed again then stopped mid thrust, making you whimper for breaking his pace.

"Yeah, I want a cat. We can—ah—," he slammed into you before you could finish the sentence. Your walls hugged him tighter, making him half moan and growl as he drilled harder into your greedy cunt.

"Go on, you were saying baby?" Chan drawled, voice smug and wrecked at the same time. His thrusts slowed to a cruel pace, pulling all the way out until only the tip teased your entrance, then sliding back in with a languid grind that had your toes curling.

You clutched at his shoulders, barely able to breathe, let alone speak. “I—Chan—”

His grin turned devilish. “Come on, I wanna hear it. Tell me all about this kitty you want while I’m buried deep in this sweet little pussy.”

“Fuck—” you choked on the curse as he angled his hips and hit that spot inside you that made your vision blur.

He groaned low, cock twitching from how tightly your walls hugged him. “You feel that? No kitty talk eh? Only dick.”

You could’ve cried from how good it felt, from how ridiculous he was, from the fact that you knew he’d say yes in the end and was just dragging this out to mess with you.

“I-It could sleep at the end of the bed,” you gasped out stubbornly, clawing at his back. “It wouldn’t bother you—”

He snorted. “You think anything could sleep when you sound like this under me? You want that innocent creature to watch you get wrecked or what?"

To prove his point, he pistoned into you again, faster now, his rhythm building with every slick, filthy slap of skin against skin.

You let out a loud breathy moan, your nails digging crescents into his back as your hips bucked instinctively to meet his thrusts.

Each roll of his hips was deeper, filthier, like he was determined to fuck the idea of a cat right out of your brain.

It was working. Or maybe not.

“Chan—Channie—”

“What, baby?” he panted, voice husky. “That little cat still on your mind? Or is your brain too dumbed out from my cock to remember what you were bribing me for?”

You whimpered—part scandalized, part turned on beyond belief. Chan's mouth twitched at your reaction. He loved seeing you like this. Falling apart while still trying to argue.

“You were gonna say?” he prompted, cock grinding right into that spot again, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips. “Hmm? Something about how it’ll behave? Maybe we can train it to wait outside the room when you’re on your knees for me?”

Your eyes rolled back at the mental image, your body already trembling again from how close you were, feeling the tight knot down at the base of your spine close to snapping.

“You’re awful,” you breathed.

“And you,” he groaned, dipping to suck a bruise into your collarbone, “are a terrible negotiator. You bring up cats mid-fuck and expect me to say no?”

“Then say yes,” you moaned, clenching around him, your voice climbing pitch with every deep thrust. “Just say yes and I’ll—I’ll be good.”

He smirked against your skin, his thumb finding your clit and circling it lazily. “You’re already being so good for me, baby. Look at you, shaking under me and begging for a kitten while getting fucked.”

“Chan—!”

He didn’t let up, pushing into you so fast now it was maddening.

“You want a cat?” he whispered, nose brushing your cheek as he kissed the corner of your lips. “You'll get a cat. But you better come hard for me. Cream all over this cock, baby. Show me you really deserve it.”

The earlier gentle rolls of his hips now turned punishing and ruthless, pounding into you hard enough to bang the headboard against the wall.

You didn’t even have time to process the demand before it slammed into you, your orgasm ripped through you like lightning, thighs shaking, tears brimming at the corners of your eyes as your walls spasmed around him.

You let out a high, broken cry, nails clawing into his skin as your entire body writhed beneath him.

“Fuck, that’s it—fuck, baby, you’re so fucking pretty when you come,” Chan gritted through his teeth, barely holding on as he watched you fall apart.

“Gonna fill you up, yeah? Stuff you full and then we can go get you a kitten with my cum dripping down your thighs. How’s that sound?”

You whimpered something incoherent, your body too wrecked to argue. With one final thrust, Chan's head fell between your neck and shoulder, hot white ribbons painting your insides, his body twitching as he collapsed, breaths ragged from the force of it.

You held him close, inhaling the musky scent of his colonge clinging onto his sweaty skin, the two of you remained tangled in each other till you caught your breaths.

His cock was sheathed inside your warm cunt till the continuous twitching stopped, yet after he remained in as if he couldn't let you go.

After what was like long minutes, he slowly slid out, dropping to your side, pulling you into his chest.

He leaned forward, capturing your lips, all tongue, hot and messy, almost as if he couldn't get enough of the way your mouth tasted.

"So," you pulled back softly, "what are we going to name him?" You asked, tracing lazy circles over his chest.

Chan let out a groggy laugh, eyes closing, his arm snug around your waist. “You mean if he survives watching his owners rail each other into the mattress every night?”

You slapped his chest gently, giggling. “Stop. He’ll be innocent.”

“He’ll be traumatized,” Chan said without missing a beat, cracking one eye open to look at you. His gaze was soft, heavy-lidded, full of affection.

"I suppose I like the name Mochi." He said after a few seconds. "Round, sweet and soft, like his mommy."

Your cheeks bloomed in a faint shade of pink and you nuzzled close into Chan's chest, holding him as close as humanly possible.

"I like that name." You mumbled.

Chan kissed the top of your head, wrapping his arms tighter around you, smiling, mentally preparing himself to bring a new addition into the household.

***

For the next few weeks, you and Chan rearranged your apartment to welcome a kitten and went to the local shelter to find a baby to give him a new home.

Today was finally the day to bring him home.

The shelter was quiet that morning, warm beams of sunlight spilling through the windows and casting soft glows on the tiled floors. You stood beside Chan, your fingers laced with his, the anticipation buzzing low in your chest like static.

“This is it,” you whispered, eyes flitting from one small enclosure to another, all filled with twitching whiskers, lazy stretches, and sleepy meows.

Chan gave your hand a small squeeze. “We’re really doing this.” He sounded a little in awe.

You walked slowly past each enclosure, the two of you crouching down now and then to coo at the kittens. There was a loud ginger tabby pouncing on its siblings, a jet-black ball of fluff who hissed at everything, and a quiet white one that refused to wake up.

Then you saw him.

A light grey tabby kitten with darker stripes along its head and body and impossibly round eyes looking up at you both curiously. He blinked sleepily up at you, then gave a tiny chirp and trotted right to the front of the enclosure, pawing at the glass like he’d been waiting for you.

Your heart clenched.

“Chan,” you whispered, voice breaking into a smile. “It’s him.”

Chan crouched down beside you, eyes wide with gentle wonder. The kitten tilted his head, then flopped on his side dramatically, tiny pink paws stretching out as if to say, take me home already.

You giggled, wiping at the corner of your eye, surprised to find yourself tearing up. “I love him.”

Chan looked over at you, soft and still, then kissed your temple.

“Then he’s ours.”

~

The ride back home was filled meows from the carrier and the sound of your giggles as Mochi pawed at the door, desperate to be let out.

Chan kept glancing over at you at red lights, his heart doing ridiculous things at the way you cooed and whispered to your new fur baby like he was the most precious thing in the world.

Once you reached home, Chan opened the door, letting Mochi step into his new home. The cat who was acting like he was in jail now took careful steps as he came out of the carrier, his big eyes curiously looking around his surroundings.

You and Chan sat cross-legged on the floor, watching as the little guy took his first tentative steps. He sniffed the rug, pawed at a plush toy, then turned and meowed—a soft, questioning little chirp before he walked towards Chan.

Your eyes widened as he pawed Chan’s knee, then—without hesitation—hopped onto his lap with all the confidence of a kitten who’d already chosen his favorite human.

Chan froze, mouth parted in disbelief. “Did I just get picked?”

You giggled, leaning your cheek against your knee as you watched the scene unfold. “He knows who the real pushover is.”

Chan scoffed, but his hand instinctively reached down, gently scratching behind Mochi’s tiny ears. The kitten let out a happy purr, quiet at first, then growing louder as he curled up into a little ball right in the center of Chan’s lap.

Your heart clenched at the sight, so much love unfolding that it felt overwhelming in the best way imaginable. You crawled closer and rested your head on his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as Chan wrapped an arm around you, careful not to disturb the sleeping kitten on his lap.

Mochi twitched once in his sleep, then purred continuing with his slumber, dreaming whatever cats dreamt of.

Chan turned slightly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You know, I never imagined this would be us. I didn’t think I’d be the guy sitting on the floor with a kitten asleep on my lap and my girl leaning on me like this.”

“And yet,” you murmured, eyes still closed, “here you are. Daddy.”

He groaned. “Please don’t call me that while the cat’s present.”

You laughed, and the sound made something flutter in his chest. Like everything was finally falling into place.

Eventually, you all ended up on the couch, the three of you tangled together, Chan stretched out with you curled next to him and Mochi sleeping contently on his chest, purring like a little engine.

“Hey,” he murmured.

“Mmh?”

“I’d let you bribe me a thousand times over if it means more nights like this.”

You smiled, pressing a long, soft kiss onto his cheek.

"Good." You giggled. "I have a list."

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Enjoyed this one shot? Consider checking my masterlist for more. Requests? Check 𝚁𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 (& 𝚁𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚜)

Taglist: @velvetmoonlght @de-uns-tempos-pra-ca @greyyeti

If you want to be added to the taglist, drop a comment <3 (If I missed someone please lmk)

Thank you for reading!

xx,

Ivyy

[jupitermarss]

#savehan

[jupitermarss]

Quick question, are you only planning on writing User x Chan, or do you plan on making Member X Member or User X Another Member?

haii

honestly i’m not really planning on anything, i mostly just go with whatever my brain craves in the moment, and it just so happens that it’s always chan sksjdkdkd

i’m open to writing mxm AND mxm thoughts in my inbox, as well as reader x another member

for now my comfort is chan tho so im mostly sticking to him in my proper one shots

[jupitermarss]

lillymochilover 2d

THIS IS SO GOOD!! IF YOU MAKE A PART TWO ( PLEASE DO) TAG ME!!!

Hey this is what I've commented on your alien channie fic and just now, I've come by your new post about how this isn't a compliment to you.

I would like to give you a sincere apology. to me, in my perception I've always thought people asking for another part of writing or making a part 2 and asking to be tagged in was a huge compliment, but I totally get it

It's not everyone's cup of tea to be asked that and I get it now how it feels, yk it's like being demanded so yea sorry for that ( T-T ) and I promise to be much more mindful with my comments in your posts in the future

heyy friend!

as i said in the post, it wasn't shade to anyone in particular, i got maaany comments like that under that fic, and i was already in a pretty wack mood so it all just kinda.. yk

usually i don't mind it, but again, because it's gotten into a pattern and people are nowadays only commenting that instead of saying smth about the actual existing work, it just makes writers, me included, feel discouraged. because it feels like what we already do is never enough + we're not getting any feedback on the actual thing. interactions on tumblr are super quiet lately anyway, too, and it's just not a vibe

i really appreciate you coming into my inbox and saying smth <33 my intention wasn't to make you or anyone else feel bad

[jupitermarss]

↪ chan ✨ unobstructed view

[jupitermarss]

Adding to what anon said about Minho hearing jisung and reader in the back of the limousine

Every time Minho pulls to a stop at a red like he can feel the car shake more, rocking back and forth and having to take deep breaths so he doesn't lose it

It's getting so warm in the car the windows up his end are starting to steam up as he feels the sweat roll down the back of his neck

The down bad nasty talk there saying to each other the closer there getting to orgasm while he sits up front shifting in his seat pretending like it doesn't effect him at all

But little does he know there getting off knowing that he's there

oh….. oh my god….

the hum of the motor being hardly enough to drown out the rhythmic thumping, the little ahs you make, jisung’s quiet moans. minho doesn’t dare even dare to look left and right because it’s so obvious. and he would be fidgeting so hard, leg bouncing, head thunking against the headrest. the sweat beading down his neck with every “fuck, baby, so wet for me. sucking me in. oh perfect perfect baby with her perfect pussy”.

i’m dizzy 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

[jupitermarss]

we need to talk yall

this is no shade for anyone in particular but i’m seeing a pattern and i’m not happy about it

many creators and writers especially have been talking about it but i gotta draw the line as well.

if yall think coming under a fic post and just dropping a “do a part 2 and tag me” is praise or appreciation or a compliment — you’re wrong. you’re basically treating a writer like a content farm and you DONT even bother for a second to see if i do taglists at all in the first place.

and instead of appreciating and reblogging what you’ve been given FOR FREE already, like literally stuff for your pleasure and entertainment, you just pop in, demand more and expect to be chased to be shown it (aka get tagged)?

imagine coming under a drawing post and saying “draw more and come show me pls”? like, nobody does it because it’s rude?? why is writing as a medium SO different?

this is just pure consumerism and disrespect. we’re already doing this for free and for fun, and the least you can do to help writers is share their stuff, interact with a post, maybe drop a few lines regarding the EXISTING work. not just demand more shit. the fuck??

thank you for your attention, i’m prepared to get cancelled

[jupitermarss]

[jupitermarss]

⍣ ೋ cw: explicit sexual content, penetrative sex, creampie, chan is a wee bit manipulative, mdni

notes: im currently out of the country so this is a queued post I had pre-written to keep you hoes guys well fed 😇 can't wait to read what you guys think when i get back <3

You were just trying to get work done.

Really. The spreadsheet is still open on your screen, cursor blinking accusingly from where you left it. Your fingers hover over the keyboard, your eyes blurry from staring too long, but still—you’re trying.

Chan is the one who’s not letting you.

“Just the tip,” he whispers again, soft and sinful in your ear, voice cracking like he means it. Like it’s not the third time he’s said it in the last two minutes. His hands are already under your hoodie, thumbs sliding across the swell of your hips, coaxing you back into his lap even as you lean forward to type.

“Chan,” you sigh, warning in your voice.

“I won’t even move, baby. Just let me feel you,” he breathes, cock straining against his briefs beneath you. “I just need it for a second, that’s all. You can keep working—I'll be quiet, promise.”

You glance over your shoulder. His pupils are blown wide, lips parted, cheeks pink. He’s already flushed like he’s inside you. Like this whole thing isn’t absolutely deranged.

You’re still in his lap. You should’ve never sat down there in the first place, but he’d looked so sweet. All pouty and clingy and pathetic, murmuring “don’t wanna be away from you,” pulling you down with him on the chair like you weren’t busy.

Now his hands are splayed across your thighs, warm and firm, shifting you just enough that you can feel the outline of him, thick and ready and twitching.

“Chan, I have three reports due tonight—”

“And I’ll help,” he interrupts, kissing the back of your neck, teeth grazing your skin. “Just lemme slip in a little. Just the tip, baby. Just want to warm up in you while you work—feels good for both of us, yeah?”

You narrow your eyes at your laptop, like it’ll give you strength. But your traitorous body is already pressing back into him, pulse fluttering low.

He feels it.

“See? Your body wants it too,” he whispers, voice cracking into a whine. “So warm for me already, baby. Don’t be mean.”

You feel him shift beneath you, one hand slipping between your thighs now, fingers curling over your waistband and tugging slow—so slow it makes you shiver. He’s savoring it, like dragging it out will make you beg instead. Like he’s waiting for that last thread of resistance to snap.

“C’mon,” he murmurs, kissing just behind your ear. “Let me in. Just a little. Just to take the edge off.”

You lift your hips without meaning to.

It’s instinct. That’s all. Instinct and exhaustion and the heat of his breath behind your ear. You don’t even look at him as you help shimmy your shorts and underwear down to your knees, keeping your eyes on the screen like that’ll anchor you.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes.

And then he’s there—pressing the thick head of his cock between your folds, guiding it with a shaky hand. He groans the second he feels how wet you are, lets out the softest “shit,” and you feel the tremble in his thighs as he drags the tip through your slick again and again.

You should stop him. You don’t.

He notches himself at your entrance, breathing through his nose like he’s trying to behave.

Then slowly—slowly—he sinks the tip inside you.

Your hands curl into fists on your thighs.

“You okay?” he asks, already breathless.

You nod, just once. Not trusting your voice.

“Good,” he pants, lips brushing your nape. “Good girl. Just like that. Just the tip. Just the—”

He pushes deeper.

“—fucking tip, baby, shit—”

He doesn’t bottom out.

He could. He’s close—closer than he said he’d be. But he stops, hips twitching, breath caught in his throat like it physically hurts him to hold back.

“You’re doing so good for me,” he whispers, rocking his hips just enough to press deeper into your heat, but not enough to give you relief. “So warm, so fucking wet. You’re dripping all over me, baby.”

You shake your head, trying to deny it, but his hand slides between your thighs before you can speak. His fingers come back soaked.

“Look at this,” he murmurs, holding them up, then licking them clean. “You sure you don’t want it?”

You don’t answer. You can’t.

Your eyes flick back to your laptop screen—numbers blurring, words meaningless. Your body is hot, trembling, strung out on the edge of something you don’t want to name. You should tell him to stop.

You don’t.

“I could make you feel so good,” he says, kissing your shoulder. “So good you’d forget your deadlines. Forget your name. You’d let me fuck you right here in this chair and you’d still thank me for it.”

You clench around him, involuntary.

He laughs, soft and breathless. The sound curls straight into your gut.

“You feel that?” he asks, nuzzling behind your ear again. “Your pussy knows what you want even if you won’t say it. She’s so honest. She wants me.”

You press your lips together to keep from moaning.

He feels it—of course he does. He’s tuned to every twitch, every breath, every little squeeze of your body around him. And right now, you’re holding onto restraint by a thread, and he’s sawing through it with every word out of his mouth.

“She’s being so good for me,” he murmurs, one hand drifting back between your legs to stroke where he’s barely inside you. “So soft, so greedy. Just keeps pulling me in, baby.”

You grab the edge of the desk like it’ll help you hold yourself together. It doesn’t.

“She wants more,” he continues, the tease thick in his voice now. “I bet you do too. You want it, don’t you? Want me to fill you up, fuck you dumb, keep you nice and stuffed while you try to finish your little reports—”

“Christopher—”

His name breaks in your throat, barely a breath, but it makes his whole body shudder.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans, like you just said something filthy. “Say it again.”

You don’t. You can’t. Your lips part, but nothing comes out, and he takes that as its own kind of answer.

He noses along your jaw, voice a cracked whisper. “You know what that does to me. You say my name like that and expect me to just sit still?”

He rocks his hips—again, shallow. Controlled. But deeper this time. Enough to make you gasp. Enough to knock the breath from your lungs when he sinks just a little more inside.

“Fuck—look at you,” he whispers, holding you tight as you writhe in his lap. “You’re taking me so good, baby. Didn’t even need prep. Didn’t need to be told. Just opened right up like you were waiting for me.”

You shake your head, weak. “You said—just the tip—”

He hums, low and teasing. “I said that. But you didn’t say no when I gave you more.”

You don’t respond.

“Didn’t stop me,” he murmurs, breath warm against your cheek. “Didn’t push me away. You’re still letting me fuck myself in, baby. You know it's yours, baby .”

His voice is wrecked now, slurred with need, but still so tender. So sweet it makes your throat tighten. His cock pushes deeper like he’s punctuating the words—inch by inch, careful and slow, dragging it out like he wants to feel every trembling second of you giving in.

“And you’re mine,” he whispers. “All mine, aren’t you?”

You nod. Barely. But it’s enough. You hear the way his breath catches in his throat, feel the way his arms tighten around your waist like he needs to hold you to keep from falling apart.

“Fuck, I love you like this,” he groans, forehead pressed to your temple. “So pliant. So sweet for me. Just letting me take whatever I want.”

Another thrust, deeper. His cock finally, fully sheathed inside you.

Your breath stutters. Your body seizes around him.

And he moans, low and ragged and grateful.

“God—baby—look at that. Took all of me, didn’t you?” he murmurs, hips barely moving now, just enough to let you feel the stretch, the weight of him. “Knew you would. Knew this tight little cunt missed me.”

You gasp, jaw slack, spine curving back against him.

He laughs softly, mouth against your skin. “Yeah. That’s it. You can pretend you didn’t want it. But look at you now.”

He rocks up once—slow and deep—and it’s too much. You cry out, sharp and quiet, and his hand immediately comes up to cover your mouth.

“Shh, shh—baby,” he soothes. “You said you had work to do, remember?”

You nod against his palm, eyes fluttering, mouth parted around gasps you can’t even hear over your heartbeat.

“Then be a good girl,” he whispers, voice like silk soaked in sin. “Keep working.”

His hand drops from your mouth, slides down to your thigh as he rocks into you again—slow, syrup-thick thrusts that force soft whines out of you with every drag.

“C’mon, baby,” he murmurs. “Hands on the keyboard. Don’t make me ask again.”

You blink at the screen, vision blurry, legs trembling where they straddle his. The spreadsheet is still open. The cursor still blinking. You could type something. You could pretend.

That’s what he wants, after all.

Just pretend.

You bring your hands up, fingers shaking as you rest them over the keys. You press a few—nonsense inputs—like that’ll satisfy him. Like it’s not so obvious how far gone you are..

“Good girl,” he says, hips snapping up once—sharp and precise. “That’s it. Keep typing while I fuck you full.”

Your fingers stutter over the keys—random characters stringing out across the screen in some hopeless imitation of productivity.

It doesn’t matter. Not to him. Not to you.

Not when he’s buried to the hilt inside you, cock dragging deep and slow with every calculated thrust. Not when every word he says drips honey and sin into your ears.

“Such a pretty little worker,” he groans, mouth brushing your temple. “Look at you. Taking my cock like you were made for it, still trying to do your job.”

He presses a kiss there, tender, like he isn’t actively wrecking you from the inside out.

Your legs tremble again. Your hands slip off the keyboard for a moment and he catches your wrist, brings it back into place.

“Uh-uh,” he murmurs. “No slacking.”

He thrusts deeper, harder, and the gasp you let out nearly knocks your laptop off the desk.

You can’t feel your fingers anymore. Can’t see the screen. The spreadsheet is a blur of black and white and nothing.

But he’s everything.

The way his voice wraps around you like velvet. The way his cock drags through your soaked heat, claiming every inch like he was built to be there. The way his breath stutters when your walls flutter around him, like he’s surprised you still want him after everything.

“Gonna come for me again?” he pants, voice ragged. “Look at you—so fucking perfect. So wrecked and still letting me use you. You’re gonna give it to me, aren’t you, baby?”

You nod. You don’t even try to speak.

Because he’s right. He’s always right when it comes to your body. Your reactions. Your limits. He reads them like scripture, responds to them like worship.

His hand finds your clit again, and this time, he doesn’t play. No teasing. No mercy.

Just pressure. Rhythm. Just enough.

Your body tenses instantly, the tight coil in your gut snapping before you even realize what’s happening. The orgasm hits hard, violent in how it grips you. You whimper, legs buckling, forehead pressed to your forearm on the desk.

And Chan—he doesn’t stop.

Not yet.

He fucks you through it, holds you tight as your cunt spasms around him, praises spilling from his lips in a broken rush.

“That’s it. That’s my girl. So good for me. So perfect. Letting me fuck you stupid while you’re working—fuck—you're so fucking sexy—”

His voice cracks on the last word, like he’s overwhelmed by his own need, like even he can’t believe how far gone you’ve made him. His thrusts stutter, his hands gripping your hips too tight to be gentle—but even now, there’s love in every filthy word that spills from his mouth.

“I can’t—fuck, baby—I’m gonna come—”

And you just nod, barely able to breathe, still shaking from your own release, still dripping with him, stretched and full and ruined.

“I need it,” he groans. “Need to come inside you again, baby, please—wanna fill you up, wanna make you mine—”

You don’t even need to say yes. Your body says it for you, clenching tight around him, pulling him deeper, and that’s it.

He breaks.

“Fuckfuckfuck—baby—god—”

He spills into you with a desperate cry, hips jerking up into yours as his orgasm tears through him like a storm. He holds you there, flush against him, trembling beneath your weight as his cock throbs deep inside.

And then—

Stillness.

Silence, except for the sound of your breathing, ragged and uneven, and his heart pounding against your back like a war drum.

He doesn’t move.

Doesn’t pull out.

Doesn’t even let go.

He just wraps his arms around your middle and buries his face in your neck, breath hot and shaky against your skin.

“Holy shit,” he whispers, voice hoarse. “You’re unreal.”

You laugh—barely. More like a broken breath through your nose. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“Worth it,” he murmurs, smiling into your shoulder. “Die full.”

You snort, weakly. “Shut up.”

He kisses your neck, then your jaw, then the space just behind your ear that makes you shiver again. “You okay?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

“I’ll get you cleaned up in a second,” he promises, voice already softening with aftercare. “But right now…” He lets out a content sigh, arms tightening around your waist. “I just wanna hold you.”

You hum and let yourself sink into him, hips still nestled against his, cock still buried inside you, warmth still spreading between your thighs.

He strokes your hair, pressing another kiss to your temple.

Then—after a long pause—he peeks over your shoulder at the screen.

“…You didn’t finish the report,” he says solemnly.

You groan, letting your head drop forward onto your arms. “You think?”

He chuckles. “If you ask nicely, maybe I’ll type the rest for you.”

You turn just enough to glare at him over your shoulder. “With what energy?”

He grins, all smug and sweet and way too pleased with himself. “Fair point.”