cosmicsinger_.

em dash

“not x, not y, but z”

short sentence stacking as a stylistic choice

none of these belong to ai. these are all what human writers have been writing since day one, way before ai was invented. ai was trained to mimic how human writers write — so em dash, not x not y but z and short sentence stacking would never have been used by ai at all if ai hadn’t learned and mimicked them from human writers.

no, you are not “fighting against ai” by accusing every work that has em dash, not x not y but z or short sentence stacking in it as ai-generated, you are helping ai harm the writing community by engaging in witch hunt and scaring human writers away from creating/sharing their works for fear of being wrongly accused of using ai.

you and satoru had been best friends forever—the kind where you knew every stupid secret, every late-night vent session, and every failed situationship. lately, though, his complaints had shifted. there were no more goofy stories about some girl blowing him in the back of his car. instead, it was frustrated groans over facetime, him sprawled on his expensive sheets with that blindfold half off, whining about how nothing worked anymore.

“dunno what’s wrong, babe. they’re hot, they’re into it, but my dick just… won’t cooperate. it’s embarrassing as hell.”

you laughed it off at first, teasing him about being a slut who finally burned out his system. but the more he brought it up, the more it ate at you. satoru—your satoru, the guy who used to get hard from a strong breeze—suddenly couldn’t perform? it didn’t sit right.

so you did what any good best friend would do. you ordered some strong boner pills online with discreet packaging, crushed one up, and slipped it into his favorite energy drink the next time he came over for movie night. just a little help, you told yourself. he’d thank you later.

except it backfired—hard.

halfway through the movie, his leg started bouncing. you noticed the flush creeping up his neck and the way his breathing grew heavier. he kept shifting on the couch, trying to hide the massive bulge straining against his gray sweatpants. you pretended not to see, but your stomach flipped.

“satoru? you okay?”

he turned to you slowly, those impossibly blue eyes darker than usual, pupils blown wide. “what the fuck did you do?”

your heart dropped. “w-what?”

he laughed, low and shaky, but there was no humor in it. “don’t play dumb. i can taste it in the drink, you sneaky little shit. viagra? really?”

before you could even apologize or explain, he was on you. long fingers gripped your thighs as he yanked you under him so fast the remote clattered to the floor. his mouth crashed against yours—messy and desperate—his tongue pushing in like he was starving. you gasped into the kiss, and he swallowed it, grinding his rock-hard cock against your core through your thin shorts.

“been dealing with this shit for weeks,” he growled against your lips, voice wrecked. “and you just—fuck—you just decide to drug me? bad fucking girl.”

you tried to say sorry, but it came out as a whimper when he ripped your shorts down with zero patience and no teasing. two thick fingers shoved inside you without warning, curling meanly against that spot that made your back arch off the couch. you were already wet—your traitorous body—but he didn’t care about being gentle. he scissored you open fast, thumb brutal on your clit, eyes locked on your face the whole time.

“look at you. dripping for your best friend. you wanted this, didn’t you? wanted to see if the pills would work on me.”

he pulled his fingers out, shoved his sweatpants down just enough to free his cock. it was flushed dark, veiny, leaking at the tip, and terrifyingly hard—bigger than you had imagined in all those secret late-night thoughts. he didn’t give you time to breathe. he lined up and slammed in to the hilt in one brutal thrust.

you cried out, nails digging into his shoulders. he was so deep it hurt in the best way, stretching you open and pressing right against your cervix. satoru moaned loudly, forehead dropping to yours, hips already snapping erratically.

“so fucking tight—shit, baby. this pussy’s sucking me in.”

there was nothing coordinated about it. he fucked you like a man possessed, hips pistoning wildly, the obscene sound of skin slapping skin filling your living room. the couch creaked dangerously beneath you. every thrust punched the air out of your lungs. he grabbed your legs, folding you in half with your ankles by your ears so he could drive even deeper.

“satoru—ahh—slow down, fuck—”

“can’t,” he panted, teeth sinking into your neck and sucking a dark mark. “feels too good. been so fucking long. this pussy—god, it’s perfect. made for me.”

he flipped you suddenly, pulling out just long enough to manhandle you onto your hands and knees. he was back inside before you could whine at the loss, pounding you from behind even harder. one hand fisted in your hair while the other slapped your ass and gripped your hip hard enough to bruise. it was chaotic and relentless, like he couldn’t control himself.

you came first, clenching around him so tight your vision whited out, moaning his name like a prayer. he didn’t stop. he just fucked you through it, groaning at the way you pulsed around his cock.

“again,” he demanded, reaching around to rub your clit roughly. “gimme another one. wanna feel it.”

you did—twice more—before he finally let himself go. his thrusts turned sloppy and erratic, hips stuttering as he buried himself deep and came with a broken moan, flooding you with hot spurts that leaked out around his cock.

even then, he didn’t pull out. he collapsed over your back, still hard inside you, grinding lazy little circles.

“we’re not done,” he whispered against your ear, voice hoarse. “those pills aren’t wearing off anytime soon, princess. you’re gonna take care of your best friend all night, yeah?”

you could only whimper in response as he started moving again—slower this time, but just as deep—already building back up to that chaotic pace.

satoru’s over again, and of course that means he’s made it into your bed from hundreds of pleas and charismatic smirks.

“condoms are in my nightstand draw—” you try and say before he climbs up onto you. he cuts you off.

“i’ll pull out, baby.” you stare up at him, unamused because, as much as you love him, you do not rust him to. “promise. you can slap me if not.” he pans for your answer with a puppy dog pout he abuses when he’s around you like he’s not a grown ass man.

you hold his jaw and force him to look at you as you say, “holding you to that, satoru.” he nods assuringly, stupidly fumbling out of his sweatpants.

and not 5 minutes later he has you folded like a goddamn lawn chair, knees pressed up against your shoulder as he heaves his dick in and out of you, looming above you with labored breath.

“mm fuck, baby.” he practically whines out, squeezing your knees he has pressed up impossibly tighter like he’s losing control. “you look so fucking good like this—feel so fuckin’ good.”

you’re clenching so goddamn hard around him it’s driving him crazy. your “impossibly perfect”—gojo’s words, not yours— pussy has a vice grip likes it’s trying to prevent him pulling out. it’s unfortunate that someone as cocky as him actually has good dick game because that just feeds his ego even more. you swear his ego is never higher than when you moan his name so sweetly, like you weren’t just pretending to be annoyed by him 10 minutes ago.

“ha, satoru—fuuuuuuuck,” you grip on his silky white hair, tugging his face closer to yours as your respective moans nearly blend into eachother’s, “just like—ughh—that, so fucking good, ‘toru.” yea his egos at an all time high and growing.

your bed frame has it the worst, slamming and straining against the wall with his hefty cock thrusting in and out of you. you can feel every single perfect vein, on his perfect porcelain cock, on his perfect body.

“you gon’ cum for me?” he twitches his eyebrows up as he says it, half taunting you. you nod as his dick nails even deeper than before, throwing your head back as you do. he chuckles, “thought you hated me? now your cumming on my dick.” you’re this close to smacking him but your orgasm interrupts him, creaming around his girth. you squeeze so tight around him he thinks you’re gonna slice his dick off from the tension .

he breaths even more irregular, still thrusting like you’re not coming apart and scraping at his scalp. his cock throbs near violently and you feel it, feel how he tenses up and accidentally digs his nails into your skin.

“satoru, hngh,” you manage, “pull out.”

he breathes harder, before he smirks down and tells you, “i got it baby, don’t worry.”

“what the fuck does tha—”

he moans, moreso whimpers really, and nuts. you’re going to kill him. you are seriously going to kill him.

except it doesn’t fill you, no, he uses his infinity or whatever the fuck that he’s tried to explain to you before and prevents his cum from actually touching your walls or delving into your womb. he pulls out, lets your legs down as your breath heaves, still obscenely confused as to what he just did, and he steps of your bed frame, standing there naked like an idiot with his cum floating a centimeter around his dick like an invisible barrier.

he breathes too hard and all his sperm falls and splatters on your floor while he’s still catching his breath.

“sorry, i’ll clean that.”

you really need to start paying more attention to him when he explains his powers.

ai writes (aka they’re mimicking) like humans. not the other way around.

The girl had heard many stories about her friend’s parents.

“You don’t understand,” she had said more than a million times, “my parents are, like, disgustingly in love. It’s embarrassing.”

She had expected something cringey. Kisses in the kitchen. Maybe matching mugs. Some middle-aged couple nonsense. Something wholesome, like in one of those old movies.

She hadn’t expected… this.

She stood awkwardly near the front door, her hands gripping the straps of her backpack. She felt slightly suffocated, as if the walls had eyes and all of them were staring at her.

A deep voice echoed through the house and she swallowed hard, glancing toward the kitchen, where her friend was calmly chewing her toast as if it were just another normal day.

“Are you blind?” Ryomen cleared his throat, one hand on his hip and the other lifting a small yogurt bottle to his mouth, his eyes fixed on his wife. “That’s not how you cut them.”

“oh awesome! What books do you read?”