#stolen fics

[blkkizzat]

how to successfully report and remove your stolen fic on c.ai:

aka don't use fics for c.ai bots... a story of a c.ai creator who fucked around & found out:

for any other author who gets their shit stolen by ai bots on c.ai this is what you need to do:

create an c.ai account

submit a support ticket

choose DMCA & Counter Notice as the issue

under "additional information" you must provide the following: — a description of your fic that is being infringed (where you published it, date, where you post, under what names, etc) — a description of the bot that is infringing your work (include name of bot, what parts it is infringing and author's name at minimum). — a statement that you are the copyright holder have not authorized use of your property/fic in this manner nor given it to the author of the bot.

you will have to give your contact info including your full legal name, address and telephone number

provide the link to your original work (where you published it first) and the link to the bot.

Attachments (up to 5 allowed): — IMPORTANT: make sure at least one of these attachments is an electronic signature using your full legal name. i used this site to get one for free (i attached both signed and typed). — the other attachments I used to show proof of my fic vs their bot and the exact word for word similarities. and also when they blatantly said they were reuploading the bot on their profile which is likely why c.ai banned the rest of their bots.

extra tips:

if your ticket submission is successful you will get an email with a ticket number.

c.ai is pretty responsive (1-2 business days) so i would give it that long before submitting a new ticket.

you must submit EVERYTHING as I have wrote it or they will ask you to resubmit an entirely new ticket. following up with missing info did not work.

if the bot gets reuploaded you still have to submit an entirely new ticket (make sure to save and reference your old ticket number in new ticket).

everything i wrote here can be found under their tos in the DMCA section

hope this helps others authors. feel free to inbox or msg with any questions.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Hey hey! I'm trying to spread the word because unfortunately the stories have been stolen from a variety of ships and I can't track them all down.

https://www.wattpad.com/1122388642-marvel-smut-welcome

This is a massive collection of Marvel ship fanfiction stolen from AO3. And I mean massive. 46 stories in total.

Ships include:

Stucky Stony Starker Stuckony Thorki

And a lot more. I'm trying to track down the authors as we speak but if you could please help me to spread the word and reach out to people it would make getting it removed so much easier.

[Link] to the wattpad story of the stolen fics

Ugh, this is why we can't have nice things 🙃

Thank you for letting me know, though! I'll be sure to check for any fics I recognize to have things set right.

[peachsayshi]

the way that @hajunzi also stole from yet ANOTHER person???? 😭😭 the problem is that this author’s been inactive since october so no-ones been able to reach them about it, but it should still be mentioned bc it was STOLEN like everyone elses…

this girls actually so weird not a single thing in her masterlist is an original work

Unfortunately there are some people who do this. I'm really not one for discourse/calling out, and this situation has just felt like at thorn on my side -.- but I do think that stealing people's work is enough reason to call them out for it. Especially when I noticed that she copied and pasted my entire fic. I wanted to boost it because I wanted other authors to be aware of what was going on in case their works might also be on there.

It's just blatantly clear at this point that all of hajunzi's works are stolen. This is now what, the fifth fic on their m.list that someone has pointed out to me? My problem with people like this account is that they are stealing for what? some likes? for a follower count? they don't realize that by doing this they just deeply hurt creators whose works they poured so much love and pride into.

They haven't responded to anybody and at this point I think the only thing we can do is report the blog (which I have done). If you do the see any works stolen I would just say to report the blog moving forward x

[klaineccfanficlibrary]

Do you know the author's NotUnusual and/or CrissColferL0ve? If so . .can you give them a heads up that this "writer" seems to be taking other people's work, changing names and reposting them as "remakes". I know for a fact that one of the author's did not give her permission and that her story was just lifted, word for word and only the characters names were changed.

I think its a shame and I know people steal crap all the time - but I admire so many writers for their hard work and creativity to just plagiarize someone else's story and try to pass it off as a remake -when all you did was just change the names - that's just not right.

If you're going to be that goddamn lazy, just plug a story idea into AI and have the app write it for you - don't take anyone else's work that they spent hours working on.

Watch out for this on Ff.net, stealing of other peoples’ work.

[deanstead]

hii <3 there's a new fic, on the derek morgan x reader tag called "home is where the homo is", which is a damn near replica of one of your derek morgan fics, just thought i should let you know.

Thank you so much for letting me know, anon!

It was a literal copy-paste situation, save for one or two sentences they added in to change it to a male-reader.

I've messaged @theseventhdimension and I think they've removed the fic but have now blocked me.

It is extremely disheartening seeing someone take your work - one that has your hard work, effort, and a little piece of yourself, and pass it off as their own.

If you write for criminal minds, please be aware!

If anyone sees such things happen again, would always appreciate you letting me (or any other writer this has happened to) know.

Much love to you, anon! World needs more people like you. Thank you!

[betzabobababi]

Just found out some of yall are enjoying my "broken" series so much you stole it and finished the series lol

Kindly delete it.

It's my work. Yes I know I only have like 4 chapter out (prob less) but that's what I love about being a writer. The fact I can take my time writing a story I love, and yall are making my process feel like it's worthless. You're making me feel like I need to hurry up just so you guys don't steal MY hard work

So please, I'm begging you, delete it.

[welcometohell09]

So. I just had one of my fics stolen and posted to YouTube and I am. FUCKING PISSED. Thank FUCK for Copy Kight letting me know, or I would have had no idea. Bless their heart.

I had to file a DMCA request, which is TERRIFYING if you have very little experience with legal systems and are trying to find accurate information on what to do online without contacting legal representation (I have my reasons; I did wind up getting support from a trusted person, though). I can imagine it being so much worse for people who don't have any support; imagine being a 14/15 year old trying to deal with that without letting parents know what's going on. Like, shit.

I'll be taking the fic down after the request goes through, which SUCKS because it's one of my best fics and I'm extremely proud of how far its gone and how many people have enjoyed it, but that fic has already gotten attention from legally-greyish-podficcers before and I'm not dealing with this shit again.

[pirozhkiparty]

Report this person. They've been stealing and reposting fics from ao3 onto ff.net

[deanstead]

Unfortunately, I am here to add on to this.

An anon brought to my attention that someone had copied my Derek Morgan fic. @theseventhdimension had taken my entire fic, added 1-2 sentences and then posted it as if they had written it.

The link to my fic is here

And here is the Morgan fic he posted

I have reached out to him to take it down, which he did but now he has blocked me.

If you write for criminal minds, especially Hotch/Spencer/Derek, please be aware and careful!

This is extremely disheartening. Writing isn't just about putting words on paper, there's a part of every writer in each fic they put out, and having someone just take it like this to pass off as their own? I'm speechless.

Thank you once again to the anon who brought this to my attention!

Hello guys not a fun post to be making today but it has been brought to my attention that is user @theseventhdimension who has now blocked me, has been copying fics and partly changing them to pass them off as their own. Here’s the receipts!

This is my fic here

And here’s the opening to there’s

I did give this user a chance to take the post down and this is what they said just before blocking me

Please be careful guys and check this persons account in case any of your fics have also been copied. They’re posting almost completely criminal minds fics with hotch, Reid and Morgan so if you write for any of these is double check just in case. Sadly this isn’t the first time this has happened to me and probably won’t be the last. Any other extra info on this person to let me know!

Also thank you @deanstead for showing me this!!

[ultravioletbrit]

“prank” - Jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 234 words

Regulus is sitting in a secluded alcove on the far side of the courtyard when James finds him.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” James asks, gesturing to the spot across from Regulus.

“Why?” Regulus narrows his eyes skeptically.

“Because this is a nice place to read, and I’d like to sit with you.” James smiles.

“Is this a prank?” Regulus glares at James. “You’ll sit here and distracted me then my brother will jump out and do something ridiculous?”

“No.” James shakes his head with a sweet smile. “Not a prank. I just want to sit with you.” He shrugs and Regulus continues to glare. “I’ll be quiet, I promise.” James adds.

“Fine.” Regulus sighs after a moment.

James smiles at Regulus, and it’s bright and beautiful and Regulus feels like he could melt.

Then the most unexpected thing happens. James sits in the alcove across from Regulus, takes out a book and reads quietly and… nothing happens. No pranks, no brothers, just comfortable silence.

They read for a while and Regulus can’t help stealing small glances at James. At one point, Regulus looks up and James is already looking back. James smiles sweetly and Regulus bites his lip to try and hide his own smile. They gaze at each other for several moments before turning back to their books.

They continue to read and… nothing happens. But Regulus also feels like something might be happening.

[enhaflixer]

pjs - The Prince's Diaries - TEASER

💌 Synopsis: Jay Jongseong is a prince—refined, disciplined, and expected to marry a woman of his father’s choosing.

You, on the other hand, are just a college student struggling to keep up with rent—until a team of royal advisors shows up on your doorstep and tells you that you’re the lost princess of Genovia.

But royal life isn’t a fairytale, and duty doesn’t care about love.

Because when the clock strikes midnight on the constitutional deadline, you’ll have to choose: your country or your heart.

“If I were just Jay, not a prince, would you still choose me?”

Release Date: TBA

-

The library is vast and silent, moonlight streaming through the tall windows, illuminating the spines of books older than either of you. A faint fire glows in the hearth, casting long shadows across the floor.

Jay locks the door behind you, turning the key slowly, deliberately.

When he turns back, there’s something different in his expression—something darker, something longing, something desperate.

“You locked the door,” he murmurs.

You nod, tilting your chin up as his fingers ghost over your waist. “It means I don’t want to waste a single second of the time we have left.”

Jay lets out a soft, wrecked sound. And then, suddenly—his lips are on yours.

It’s slow at first, like he’s memorizing the shape of you, but when your hands fist into his shirt, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away, something snaps.

His arms tighten around you, hands gripping your waist, pulling you against him as if he’s trying to imprint this moment into his bones. Because he knows this won’t last.

He presses you against the grand piano, the cool wood biting into your back, but you don’t care. Not when his breath is warm against your lips. Not when his fingers trace reverent lines down your spine.

“Tell me to leave,” he murmurs, voice wrecked with restraint.

“I won’t.”

And just like that, he’s yours.

-

Reblog if you’d leave behind your entire life to be a secret princess (or if you’d fall for a prince who calls you “Your Highness” in private). 💌

[societyfolklore]

Stolen Devotion – Part 1

Title: Stolen Devotion – Part 1

Pairing: Stalker!Bucky Barnes Female Reader

Fic Summary:  You don’t know he exists. But Bucky Barnes has been watching you- learning your patterns, your loneliness, your pain. What started as curiosity has turned into something deeper, darker. Ignore by your husband, dismissed by your mother, you move through life like a ghost. But Bucky sees you. Bucky understands you. And Bucky has decided you belong to him.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: / Explicit Content / 18+, Minors DNI, Possessive/ Obsessive behaviour. Dub Con/Non Con (eventually), Dubious Morality, General dark themes, Emotional Neglect and Marital Issues, Stalking, Pinning, Masturbation, Voyeurism.  Eventual Smut  

A/N:  This isn’t connected to ApplePie (just encase anyone thought it was.. its not) This currently doesn’t have a unload schedule.. updates will come when they come.. (hopefully monthly)

The night was quiet, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and freshly cut grass. Bucky stood near the shed, swallowed by the shadows, his breath slow and steady as he watched the warm glow of the kitchen window. The contrast between the golden light spilling from inside and the oppressive darkness around him made his pulse quicken. It was intimate, the way he could stand here, unseen, yet so close. Like he was already a part of her world, even if you didn't know it yet.

There you were, standing over the sink, washing dishes. Your movements were slow, almost mechanical, as though she was moving through water, dragged down by something unseen. He studied the way her fingers curled around the plate, how the suds slid down her wrist, dripping into the sink. The way her shoulders slumped, her head tilting forward as if the weight of the day had physically pressed her down. She was tired. She was always tired.

It had started as just curiosity. At first, it had been enough to linger in places you'd had been, to pick up on your patterns without even realizing it. But then he'd found himself needing more. Watching you became habit, then necessity.

You had seemed so alone. He had felt it- smelled it, almost. The weight of it settled on you like a permanent shadow, stretching long behind you,  inescapable. Loneliness clung to you like a second skin, something you'd clearly grown used to wearing. Bucky knew that kind of loneliness. The kind that burrowed into your chest and hollowed you out, leaving nothing but quiet ache and a desperate, gnawing need to be seen. He remembered it from the war, from HYDRA, from the years afterward when his reflection had felt like a stranger. It wasn’t just sadness. It was the absence of something vital, something necessary to keep existing. And you were drowning in it, just like he had.

Watching had been enough, an attempt to know you observing, you were safe because he was there.

But now? Now it frustrated him.

You didn't even know he existed… not yet. But he saw you. Bucky knew you better than anyone. Better than you husband, better than the people she called family, the ones who never really listened. They didn’t see the way you shrank when you tried to share, how your smiles never reached your eyes anymore. How you'd had stopped singing to herself when you cooked. Bucky had even noticed they your hands shook now when you reached for your husband. 

Bucky was always looking.

But there was something was different tonight. There was a weight in your posture, a heaviness in the way your shoulders curled inward, an attempt to disappear. His brows furrowed as he studied you, his fingers twitching at his sides. He needed to know what had happened today- why you moved like a your throat was stuck in a noose.

He would check the footage later. The camera inside the house would tell him everything. It always did.

For now, he just watched as she scrubbed a plate, her hands methodical, detached. As if she wasn’t really there. As if she had already faded away.

The more he watched, the harder it became to resist the pull inside him, the voice that whispered that he should go to her, should break through the back door and wrap himself around her, press his lips to her temple, breathe her in until the cloud lifted. He could already see it- the way you’d lean into him if he gave you the chance, the way you might even sigh, as your body recognizing that you were finally safe, finally wanted and belonged. With him. He would hold you up when you felt like falling, steady you when the weight of life threatened to break you back down.

You would look at him, really look at him, and you would know. It was supposed to be Bucky, That you had been waiting for him all along.

And he would make you smile again. He was so sure. 

Swallowing hard Bucky put aside the dream and watched you stare blankly at the sink. The knife twisting, deep and aching in his stomach. His fingers reaching inside his jacket. Tucked in the inner pocket, was you journal. His proof. His tether to her. Bucky had memorized the pages, the way your handwriting looped in hurried, frantic scrawls when she was anxious, the way you drew tiny stars in the margins when you felt hopeful. And that was why he had to do this. Why he had to make sure you see what he saw. He was perfect for you, like you were for him. Even if you  just didn’t know it yet.

~#~#~#~#~#~

The hum of machines filled the laundromat, a steady, rhythmic backdrop to the occasional clatter of loose change against metal. The air smelled faintly of detergent and heat, warm and artificial, like every laundromat he had ever stepped into. It was late, the kind of late where most people had already gone home, leaving only a few night-dwellers to finish their routines in silence.

Bucky hadn’t come here for anything other than laundry. Just another errand. Another forgettable task.

He moved toward an empty row of machines, his footsteps muffled against the linoleum floor. The fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, casting a dull glow over the space. He reached into the canvas bag slung over his shoulder, pulling out a bundle of clothes- they were stained, stiff with sweat and the scent of his own skin, the lingering trace of metal and gun oil clinging to the fabric.

Methodically, he began sorting, separating darks from lights, pressing his fingers into the fabric as if feeling the past days imprinted there. Shirts, pants, socks, each piece sliding between his fingers, dropping into the machine with a soft thud. The rhythm of it was almost soothing, mechanical, thoughtless.

That’s when he heard you.

A voice, soft but carrying through the space, frayed at the edges with something he recognized too well.  “I don’t know, Mom, I just… I just thought maybe he’d want to. That he’d try a little.”

Bucky reached for the detergent, unscrewing the cap with a flick of his wrist, the sharp, artificial scent filling his nose as he poured the thick liquid into the dispenser. The sound of water rushing in, he shouldn't eavesdrop.  “No, I’m not saying he doesn’t care, I just- ”

He closed the lid, pressed the button, and stepped back. Another task completed. Another minute filled. Your voice carried through the space, soft yet worn, as if every word was carefully chosen, every syllable a quiet plea to be heard. There was no anger in your tone, no raised voice- just exhaustion. The kind that settled deep in the bones, that stretched out over years and never really left.

"I am tryin-" 

The words cut off abruptly. Bucky knew why. He could hear it, the shift in your posture, the way your spine straightened as if bracing for something inevitable. He glanced over without meaning to, drawn to the sight of you gripping the phone tighter, your knuckles whitening with the effort of holding back whatever you wanted to say next.

“Oh.. uh-huh. Yeah. No, I know. I know. You’re right.”

The resignation in your voice settled over you like a second skin, wrapping around you until it became part of your form. Bucky knew that weight. He had carried it before. The kind of loneliness that turned your voice into something hollow, that made your own words feel foreign, useless. He had been there, in the silence after, when you stopped expecting to be heard at all. “Yeah. No, I’m listening Mom." 

He watched, unnoticed, as you moved, your fingers loosening, releasing the tension only when you finally pulled the phone away from your ear. You let out a breath- a shaky, barely-there exhale, the kind that people gave when they were used to being disappointed. He could hear the other voice on the phone too, the conversation had been changed on you. 

Bucky watched as you set your journal down, distracted, stepping away to collect your clothes from the dryer.

"Oh really? That much for dinner? God.. Yeah? I can send you some money-"  

He shouldn’t have been watching, but he was. The way your fingers skimmed the fabric, methodical, folding each piece with quiet precision. Then, with a quick check of your pocket, you counted your last few coins- and left them there.

A kindness for a stranger. Something that would brighten someone else’s day.. 

No hesitation, no thought to it. Just something you did without needing to be acknowledged. Then, for the briefest second, you smiled.

It was like you just lit up and a warmth crept into Bucky chest he'd forgotten was possible. 

A real smile. Soft. Private. Just for you.

And then- it was gone. Stolen away by whatever your mother said next.

"Mom, I said I'd transfer you something, you don't need to- No I'm not making you beg.. Mom. I'm just finishing laundry, give me a second to get to the car." 

Bucky felt something inside him crack.

Someone that kind shouldn’t look that unhappy.

You gathered your things, your shoulders curled inward, retreating back into yourself. And Bucky just stood there, watching you leave.  

The sound of the washer the only noise as he spotted the journal, abandoned on the plastic bench, the edges curling slightly from use.  Bucky scooped it but as he looked up going for the door he saw a car pull away. His fingers twitched, looking down at the beaten thing... Maybe there was an address written in it, your name even..  He wasn’t snooping. But then his eyes landed on the first few lines. And he couldn’t stop reading. Under the harsh fluoro lights Bucky flicked through pages. He knew it was wrong, that there was something so intimate about it, the way your thoughts spilled onto the pages like quiet confessions, things you probably never said out loud. He could hear your voice in them, the way your words faltered in some places, the way you'd crossed things out but still left them readable as if you wanted to take them back but couldn’t.

Some pages were filled with long, rambling entries, streams of consciousness that read like a desperate attempt to untangle the thoughts.. Others were empty, just a date at the top, as if you'd had sat down to write but found nothing left to say. Those pages were the ones that made his chest ache the most. Because he understood them. The silence. The emptiness.

And then, near the back, a list. Small, written in neat, deliberate handwriting:

Call Mom back.

Buy more coffee - Extra strong 

Get his beer - not the 'cheap stuff'

Get bread - Don't buy the one with seeds

Remember to breathe.

It doesn’t matter anyway.

Bucky stared at the last line, his jaw tightening. It doesn’t matter anyway.

He felt something sharp twist inside him.

Because it did matter.

She mattered.

And if no one else saw it then he would.

~#~#~#~#~#~

Bucky moved around the side of the house, following you from the kitchen to the living room, curled into the corner of the couch, the TV casting pale light across your face. Some drama played, but you weren’t really watching. You were just… existing, lost in the glow of something meant to be distracting.

Your husband was in the bedroom, phone in hand, oblivious to you. Just like always.

How was Bucky supposed to get to know you the right way? He should have just walked up to you back then found a way into your life that didn’t involve hiding in the shadows. But modern life wasn’t easy for him. No matter how much Sam or Steve had tried to help, Bucky barely understood how to hold conversations anymore, how to make small talk that wasn’t laced with the weight of everything.

The world had moved forward without him, and he was still stuck, unable to integrate, unable to connect.

He had tried dating. Sam had convinced him once. But it had felt all wrong, forced, complicated. He didn’t know how to navigate modern romance, didn’t know the rules. It had been exhausting, frustrating. It wasn’t like before, when things had been simpler, clearer.

But he did know how to track, how to plan, how to execute.

Watching you had become his new mission.

Until he could figure out how to save you from this life you felt trapped in

Bucky checked his watch, and like clockwork, in came your husband and announced his departure. Just like every week- Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday nights were 'for the boys,' and he was out, leaving you alone.

Bucky barely breathed as he stood in the darkness, watching through the thin veil of curtains as your husband bent down to kiss you goodbye, his hand groping at your chest before pulling away. The sight made Bucky’s jaw tighten, his hand balling into fist. Your husband didn’t notice the way you bristled, the way you shifted uncomfortably on the couch. He didn’t see the fleeting grimace, the way your shoulders curled inward just slightly, your body tensing under the unwanted touch.

But Bucky did.

The way your expression turned hollow, how your lips pressed together, how you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand the second your husband turned away. A quick motion, one so practiced, Bucky knew you had done it countless times before.

And then you called after him, an empty, mechanical, "I love you."

How did he not hear the pain in your voice?

How did he not see?

Bucky stood frozen, his pulse hammering as your husband grabbed his keys, barely sparing you another glance before heading out the door. Just like that, you were alone again.

I won’t hurt you. I’ll just take care of you..

You sat on the couch and drank two glasses of wine far to quickly for Bucky's liking.  How badly did want to numb yourself tonight? 

Bucky watched as you retreat to the bedroom. Again Bucky moved fast and silent to the side opposite side of the house, the curtain would be drawn now, he'd be unable to see so the former assassin pulled out his phone to watch the live camera feed.

You'd already gotten on the bed, stripped off having found something on your phone to excite you.

This is what you do at nights when your alone.

Well when you think you’re alone.

Bucky stared at his screen watching you, eyes half-lidded, mouth parted, fingers slippedbetween your thighs, your breathing slow and deep as you lost yourself in the moment. His enhanced hearing meant he could listen through the window without the aid of the microphone, though that’s recording you anyway..  The glow from the bedside lamp casts long, soft shadows, highlighting the curve of your body beneath on top the sheets, the way your hips shifted, the tension building inside you.

It’s different than when your husband is with you. When that idiot rolls on top of you grunting and rutting while you fake every noise.

No, these moment, this pleasure-  This is real.

Bucky watches, transfixed. The way your fingers move, languid and deliberate, chasing something only you know how to give yourself. He can hear the faintest sound, the breathy little gasps escaping your lips. 

I know what you looks like when your lost in it. He doesn’t.

His hand gripped his phone tighter. He should stop watching. He should shut off the screen, turn away, step back. he can rewatch this in his own apartment but he doesn’t.

The ache in his chest sharpens into something else. Something darker. Something he can’t ignore.

Bucky hand slips into his pants, wrapping around his cock, the rough drag of his palm sending a shudder through him as he matches your rhythm. He's so hard it hurt. Bucky bite down hard on his lip, forcing himself to stay quiet. Every noise you make sends a pulse of heat through him, fuels the twisted hunger that has taken root in his chest. As your fingers plunge in an out of yourself your other hand rubbing circles around that little button of yours. 

You arch your back, your fingers curling, your breath hitching just slightly as you chase that peak. His grip tightens, his strokes faster now, heat curling in his spine.

Wish it was me. Wish I was the one making you sound like that.

He can imagine it- his hands on your hips, his fingers sliding over your slick skin, his mouth covering yours to swallow every moan, every whimper. You’d let him, you would. You’d gasp his name, melt into his touch, beg him not to stop. He wouldn’t. He’d give you what you needed, what you deserved. He’d ruin you for anyone else. He’d stretch you open, watch your cunt clench around him, struggling to take all of him, making you feel every inch until you were trembling, pleading for more. You’d be so tight, so perfect, made to take him, made to be his.

His breath stutters, muscles tensing as the heat coils impossibly tight, and then-

His release is hot, sticky, spilling over his hand, his jaw clenched to keep from groaning your name into the night. He breathes hard, chest rising and falling, the remnants of pleasure thrumming through his veins.

His gaze drifts back to you, still lost in the aftershocks of your own pleasure, unaware that someone had just come apart watching you.

Bucky swallows, heart hammering.

At least he feels close to you.

[holylulusworld]

I'm sorry that person stole your fic! Someone stole one of my stories last year, changed a few sentences, and then posted it like it was hers. At least your person deactivated the account, my thief stood her ground and acted like she didn't do anything wrong. 😔

I wish people would stop plagiarizing other people's fics, it sucks.

I'm sorry to hear you had the same issues, hun.

They could at least admit their mistake (crime). But acting like they did nothing wrong is 1000% worse.

That person even was on my tag list...

It sucks that you can't trust people to not steal your shit. We share our work for free. The least you can do is not steal it.

If she would've asked me if she can use the "idea/plot/trope" but write her own story (using her own words) to put the setting in a different fandom. This would've been a completely different thing.

But she went: oh, yeah, I add a warning to my story, telling people not to steal it; but I take Lulu's whole story, only changing the name of the main char and a few lines. Tada, I get 1,2 k notes with a stolen fic.

[d3lly1000]

"What Was Stolen" - Scene from Chapter 19

I'm in love with @beeextraordinary123's story. Thank you for bringing this treasure to us! 💖💙 that really tugs at your emotions, I'm in love with each character, their personalities, the plots, the motivations, the romance, the action… I'm so excited for the next chapter ahsiagwbqvbgasfvg If you haven't seen it, I HIGHLY recommend it! ( Check here! ) Based on the designs of the amazing @ratrrriot!

[aurorawritestoescape]

STOLEN LUNCH

Dave York x f!reader || 800 words

Summary: Dave steals your lunch.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, lil bit of fluff, enemies to lovers with possible history, mean but sweet Dave idk, spitting?, pussy pronouns ofc, public but not caught, rough sex, unprotected piv, creampie.

a/n: I got inspired by this poll by @sin-djarin and @sizzlingcloudmentality ‘s thoughts about Dave and wrote this little naughty thing. Thank you, Becca and Daphne!💞 barely edited, kisses to @milla-frenchy for looking it over😘 I hope you’ll enjoy this drabble <3 dividers by @/saradika-graphics

MASTERLIST

“Not again!” You growl and shut the lunchroom fridge with a loud thump, making the poor thing shake and clank.

You turn around on your heels and stare at the culprit of your anger.

Dave is leaning against the counter, holding YOUR turkey sandwich in his giant hand and chewing, his clean-shaved jaw shifting languidly.

“What’s your fucking problem?” You hiss, stomping closer to him, an image of fury and rage- your brows furrowed, your fists clenched.

Dave seems to give zero fucks. He looks relaxed, pleased even, as he’s destroying your lunch. The lunch he’s stolen from you. Again.

“The turkey’s dry. ‘s disgusting.”

“You don’t look disgusted,” you spit back at the man, hyperventilating from anger.

“‘s cause I’m looking at you, kitten. It helps.”

Your breath hitches but you try to fight the way your heart flutters and your pussy clenches at his flirting.

Instead you roll your eyes and step closer to him, lowering your voice as you speak,

“What if I told you that I spat in the middle of this damn sandwich as I was making it, huh?”

You sneer at him, thinking that you might have won this one.

Dave’s brows shoot up and he looks at the half eaten sandwich in his giant paw and then at you.

You widen your eyes and nod a few times, signaling him that you’re not joking.

Dave’s dark eyes are set on yours, they’re challenging you, as he brings the sandwich to his lips and takes a huge bite. He starts chewing and then moans. The fucker moans.

Your face softens, your anger evaporates and something warm and wet fills your core. A bite of your lip and your heart eyes are clear signs of your surrender. You’ve lost. Again.

His thick fingers grab the back of your neck and he pushes you forward, bending you over the copier.

“Dave,” you whine, as he pulls your skirt up and your tights and panties down. “Someone might come in.”

“So?”

You hear his nonchalant voice behind you, the clanking of his belt, the rustling of his clothes, and then his hot cock lands heavy on your asscheek.

”Keep still, kitten, or it’ll hurt.”

You mewl and relax your muscles, knowing that it’s coming. He pushes his length in without hesitation, taking and stretching you in one go, and you bite your palm that’s covering your whimpering mouth, when his tip hits your cervix.

“Yeahhh, that’s it. You suck at cooking but this cunt…Fuck, she’s the best.”

“Fuck youuu…” Your groan turns into a moan as Dave starts fucking you raw, his thrusts slow at first, but he picks up the pace fast, and the sounds of skin-on-skin slapping fill the little room.

For a few moments it’s nothing but lustful growls and moans, until he grabs your shoulders and pulls you to his firm chest, his hot palm around your neck, his fingers bruising your soft hip.

Dave groans in your ear, fanning your cheek with his wet breath,

“How’s that feel, kitten? I took your lunch, now I’m taking your pussy. What else are you gonna give me on a silver platter, huh? What if I steal that big client of yours?”

“I hate you,” you croak, wiggling in his arms, but both of you know it’s just a play. You wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but here, pierced by his stiff cock, in the tiny room that smells like sex and desire. Dave tightens his grip on your body and whispers against your temple,

“I won’t if you kiss me right now.”

You hear softness in his voice and you turn your head to gawk at him.

His eyes are blown out, shiny with lust and want, but there’s something else behind them. Something vulnerable and real.

“Turn me around.” Your voice is barely audible, unsure, but he hears you.

He pulls out and you hiss but then moan, as he spins you around and his lips crash against yours, his eager tongue sliding into your mouth.

Not breaking the kiss, Dave lifts you up, and you grab onto him for dear life, as he pushes his length back into your pussy.

He makes you come, moving you up and down his thumping cock, bruising your lips with kisses, leaving hickeys on your delicate skin, and then spills his hot load inside you, his face buried in your neck.

You’re fixing your clothes, both breathing heavily, when he asks,

“How about I steal your dessert at a restaurant tonight?”

“You’re such an asshole,” you throw at him with a smile and walk out of the door.

You can’t wait for the evening to come.

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic!

MASTERLIST

Tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk @pascaltesaye @fruityreads @itwasntimethatdidit40 @meetmeatyourworst @callmebyyournick-name

Tagging @bergamote-catsandbooks bc of their comment 🌸

[s0fter-sin]

ghost who was chemically castrated by roba and soap who wants to help him to regain his sexual autonomy

nsfw, angst, roba, unnegotiated unsafe but consensual gun play, hopeful ending

💀🧼

ghost walks like it hangs low.

there’s a tilt to his hips and a spread in his thighs and johnny’s never been able to stop staring.

and ghost’s never asked him to.

he knows he’s seen him; he’s not exactly discreet. he swears he’s even seen him cock his hips out before to give him a better view. but he always pulls back just as they toe the line; verbal cold water on the tentative heat they almost can’t help but spark when they’re together.

it’s never a no; johnny’s not so selfish of a cunt that he’d push when he knows he isn’t welcome. it’s always a reluctance; an “i wish i could,” never in so many words. an open ended “but…” as ghost circles the reason without ever actually saying it. johnny knows it’s something personal, something more than a difference in rank could ever excuse.

so he backs off when ghost does, jokes instead of flirts and holds his breath through the agonising wait until ghost lets him in close again. waits to know if he’ll let him close again.

it’s almost anticlimactic, the end of their dance; his delicate steps and looping logic to work out why bulldozed as ghost comes out and says one random night, “i can’t fuck.”

it’s not bitter. it doesn’t grate coming out of his throat; he doesn’t spit it like it’s something to be ashamed, not twisted with insecurity as if it’s an accusation by an ex.

it’s a statement of fact.

“you can’t fuck,” johnny echoes anyway because even if it is the reason, the big why… it still doesn’t really answer anything.

“i can’t get it up,” he elaborates, this horrid blankness in his eyes like he’s reading from a script. “whatever you’re looking for, whatever you want- i can’t give it to you.”

johnny just looks at him, the chill air prickling his skin. “right,” he nods calmly. “because my interest in you starts and ends with your dick.”

that blank calm shatters. “johnny…” he warns.

“do you really think i’m that shallow?” he cuts in, curing himself for the way his voice breaks but he never thought ghost would think so low of him; that this whole time, ghost’s thought that’s the only thing he wants from him. “like i’d take you for a ride ‘n just drop you?”

“there’s a difference between not gettin’ it for one night and never gettin’ it at all,” ghost growls, turning his back on him to lean against the edge of the roof. his shoulders heave and the anger seeps from him in one long breath. “it’s not a hitch, johnny. not a performance issue or ptsd or whatever the fuck you’re thinkin’. it’s permanent. irreversible.”

irreversible.

johnny stops, cold creeping up his limbs and dousing his defensive anger. ghost is many things and when it comes to his words, chief amongst them all is deliberate. he didn’t say it’s unfixable. incurable.

irreversible.

johnny buries his selfish hurt and scuffs his boots, an unobtrusive warning of movement, and comes up beside him; just enough distance between them to catch their breaths. he leans back against the ledge and looks over the opposite side of the roof at the dark sky.

“mexico,” he murmurs. not an accusation. not even really a question but ghost collapses in on himself anyway; sinking into his crossed arms digging into the ledge.

“mexico,” he agrees just as quietly. “‘pparently, roba found it more entertaining to let me keep it but- cut the cords. more demeaning that way; cock’s gone, at least you don’t feel the urge. don’t have to look at the fuckin’ thing hang there when nothin’ fuckin’ works.

“it’s not ‘bout how i see you, johnny,” ghost promises and it’s almost apologetic. “but you like sex. eventually, you’ll want it. and i can’t give it to you. easier to just… not let it get to that point.”

johnny’s jaw flexes. everything in him wants to reject it, wants to protest that something as trivial as an orgasm is more important to him than ghost.

but he also knows words are useless here.

they stand there looking out into the gathering dark, tense silence hanging between them, and the only thing johnny knows is if he isn’t careful, he could lose the one person he cares about most.

💀🧼

ghost’s been uneasy since his abrupt confession.

he knows it was sudden, borderline cruel to dump his shit on johnny with no warning but he just couldn’t take it anymore; couldn’t take the back and forth when he knew it would never go anywhere, couldn’t take johnny’s hope when he knew he’d have to watch it twist into disgust and pity.

into disappointment.

he figures that’s the end of it; there’ll be no more flirting now, no more staring or heated looks, no more teasing him by spreading his knees out just to see the flash of hunger in his eyes. the control he felt playing with johnny knowing it was welcome, just because he could- he’ll never feel that again. not now that johnny knows the truth.

then he steps into his room to find johnny laying naked on his bed.

he’s not spread out like an offering, not throwing him some cheap sultry glance as he plays with himself. he’s not even hard; his cock limp over the cradle of his balls, his legs bent loosely together, arms under his head as if he’s settling down for the night.

ghost sighs and shuts the door behind him. “johnny…”

“i know,” johnny says and it’s gentle; not cutting him off, just getting his attention. “just… hear me out?”

there’s nothing else to say. there’s nothing johnny can say or do to fix his violated body. but ghost still crosses his arms and leans back against the door like he can anyway.

johnny pushes himself up and off the bed, closing the distance between them but still giving him enough space to breathe; to open the door behind him, to escape.

“i can never know what was taken from you,” he starts and ghost’s fingers dig into his arms. “i can never know what it means to you. and i can never get it back.”

he doesn’t break eye contact and slowly lowers himself to his knees. “but i can give you something else.”

“you?” ghost guesses flatly and as much as it warms his blood, as much as he’s imagined having johnny look up at him just like this… it’s still not enough to offset the sickening swoop in his gut when his cock doesn’t so much as twitch.

“i’m a nice bonus,” johnny purrs but his smile remains gentle. “but i’m not the main event.”

he lifts a hand and ghost readies to smack it away when he reaches for his thigh holster instead of his belt. he flicks the closing strap open and pulls his handgun, his favourite, free.

“you told me you can’t fuck,” he murmurs, popping out the clip. he taps it against the side and loads it back in with a practiced hit with the butt of his palm. “but fucking isn’t all there is.”

“johnny, what…” ghost starts just to cut himself off as johnny thumbs off the safety and loads a round into the chamber.

“you trust me?” johnny asks and it’s as loaded as the gun in his hand.

good then, that ghost knows the answer. “always have.”

johnny’s smile blooms with warmth, with pride, and it chases away any reluctance he could possibly feel. he lets him take his hands in his, wrapping them around the gun with his finger on the trigger guard. he brings the barrel up beside his temple, holding it steady before his hands fall away.

until it’s only ghost between him and a bullet.

johnny’s hands go to his belt, his movements slow enough for ghost to stop him long before he reaches his cock, forever hanging limp in his pants. but he just rubs the muzzle along his temple, almost nuzzling him with the gun as he pulls down his jeans and boxers.

he waits for johnny to take him in hand, maybe try and pantomime a handy, and his hips almost recoil at the thought.

but he doesn’t try to touch him.

instead, he takes his wrist and guides the gun to sit in front of his cock; angling it to follow the same slight curve he has then holds his hands behind his back like he’s standing at attention. he splays his knees wide, sinking deeper and ghost sucks in a harsh breath as johnny ducks under the gun; his eyes locked on his as he curls his tongue under the barrel and brings it into his mouth.

it takes every ounce of will he has to not let his hand shake around the gun as johnny gives it the slowest, messiest blowjob he’s ever seen; slowly rising higher on his knees, guiding the gun up with him as if it’s his cock hardening. his cheeks hollow as he sucks, tongue laving up the barrel and flicking out to play with the muzzle like a cockhead, moaning with every bob of his head until saliva drips off the metal and makes a mess of his chin.

ghost’s never felt so powerful as he does watching johnny hang off the end of his gun; watching his cock harden and drool between his legs without a single touch, knowing he could pull the trigger at any time and johnny would not only let him but he’d thank him.

the thought breaks him from his paralysis, drawing the gun from his lips and johnny immediately stills; rolling his wide eyes up like he’s trying to check on him. ghost pushes every ounce of heat into his gaze and cocks the gun to the side, slowly pushing it back in until johnny’s lips meet the trigger guard.

johnny whines as he fucks his mouth, thrusting his hips along with each long drag like the gun is an extension of his body; almost too rough as tears prick his eyes and his lips redden and bruise but he never asks him to stop; his cock leaking a puddle on the floor beneath him.

“you gonna cum for me, johnny?” ghost croons, holding back a groan when just his voice is enough to make him shiver. “gonna cum with my fucking gun down your throat?”

he gives a broken whimper, as close to an agreement as he can make, and ghost crowds in close. he grips the base of his mohawk, wrenching his head back until his throat is flush to the front of his thigh. johnny lets out a choked cry, eyes rolling back and he doesn’t hold back as he brutally fucks his face; feeling the bulge of his gun in his throat against his leg.

“come on, johnny; you wanna be my good little holster?” he growls and makes sure he’s watching as his finger moves from the guard to the trigger. “then take my fucking load.”

he forces the gun as deep as he can and johnny gags, his shaking body locking up as he cums untouched; painting the floor and ghost’s boot, cock twitching and pulsing hard enough to bump against his belly and leave a string of cum threading from it to his cock.

ghost watches him spasm and moan, his throat convulsing around the gun and a heated knot of satisfaction tightens in his gut; so close to the memory of an orgasm, he’s almost dizzy with it.

johnny slumps forward, his hands slipping from behind his back, and ghost quickly flicks the safety back on and drops to his knees. he slides the gun away and pulls johnny forward to collapse into his chest, taking his weight off his knees; his whole body trembling with aftershocks.

“you’re crazy, johnny,” ghost whispers, awed, and feels him smile against his chest.

“aye,” he agrees, voice raspy from his gun scraping up his throat. “how else am i supposed to prove that i mean it?”

ghost tries not to tense up; tries not to let hope sink its cruel roots into his chest. “mean it?”

johnny pulls back, his cheeks still flushed and sticky with spilled tears. “i’m yours, ghost; in any and every way you’ll have me,” he promises. “sex or no sex. this can never happen again and i’ll still never stop wanting you. it doesn’t matter to me as much as you do. you’re everythin’ to me, ghost. not your body; not what you can give me. just you.”

a knot crowds in his throat. “and you needed to deep throat my pistol to prove that?” he deflects.

and just like always, johnny lets him. “worked, didn’t it?” he winks. “you fucked my brains out.”

ghost rolls his eyes to hide the softness he knows is flooding them and helps johnny up and gets him into his shower; cleaning him of the sweat and cum and spit covering his body.

that ghost covered his body in.

his chest hitches at the reminder as he strips himself down to a single layer and all but falls into bed, tugging johnny in after him when he hesitates just slightly at the edge of the bed; splaying his still naked body over him, sated and loose.

“i really do mean it,” johnny whispers into the crook of his neck sometime later; when their breaths have settled and synced.

ghost sweeps his fingers up and down the length of his spine, skin he’s never seen. skin he now knows every inch of. “i know you do,” he whispers back.

and for once, he thinks it might be enough.