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"I am nobody. Even if I was someone, people couldn't comprehend me. And even if they could, they wouldn't be able to communicate it to those around them. I do not belong to the world. That is the world's limit, the boundary between the world and the self." — Ergo Proxy
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Hey 😇, I’ve only got one shot with this so Let skip the small talk, if you ever consider having a sugar daddy and enjoying the finer side of life. I’d love to hear from you!
I love your theme so much! Ergo Proxy is one of my favorite anime ever!! Your page always has some of the best themes!
Thank you!! Ergo Proxy is a favorite for me too—you’ve got fantastic taste. This, along with my Batcomputer theme and the Naruto one, are definitely my top three.
hey! so sorry if you’ve already answered this, but i was wondering if you’ll be re-uploading “filled by lycanlight” and “untitled no.7” i really loved those stories so just wanted to ask. hope you’re having a great day. 💕
About the hydrid stories. Untitled No.7 was super condensed to fit Tumblr's character and space limits, so I'll be revising and reposting the full version whenever. You can join the monster fucker taglist if you want; that way you're more likely to be notified when it's posted. Hope this month has been treating you well—have a great day!
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I'm giving y'all a Sakamoto Days hcs, a monster fucker story, aaaand [vote]
pick please
petplay
daddy kink
cuck stuff
results
Voting ended onJul 21
Edit: Petplay-> features a dom reader (I had a tiiiime writing this). Daddy kink-> Pretty tame; if you enjoy my sfl stories, you'll like it. Cuck-> Not your average cuck story (reader and her bf x character insert. A little gay—THAT’S ALL I'M GIVING Y'ALL).
agreed!! specifically plug!connie. . . walk with me
i can imagine him stationary in between clients, picking you up just to devote his spare time to you. he’s looking over, hints of crimson tinting his sunken, weighted eyes from the invariable exposure of secondhand smoke. connie is nodding at whatever you're saying but in reality, he’s not listening to a single word you’re saying—just roaming those pretty hazel eyes across your face, studying the way your face contorts while you express your thoughts. He could listen to you talk forever. the world moves in slow motion outside of his windows all while this song is creeping from speakers, curling around you both akin to a ravenous python. he interrupts you with good intentions—only to whisper, “you’re so pretty, baby.”
can I ask how you write your smut? you go into so much detail and I always feel like everything that I write is the same all the time🫥
You sure can ask and I sure will answer ✨
💗
I'm in a yapping mood, so I wanna preface this by saying, this is all MY opinion about how I write detailed smut. And because I'm a fucking literary nerd, I'm going into a bit of that said detail.
So, tbh, the same techniques you use to write one part of a story are also used to write smut. But the most important thing I often find lacking in some smut is the technique:
"Show, Don't Tell"
To simplify: Don't just tell the audience what's happening by stating a bunch of general facts about your scene or characters; show how it affects both them and the things around them.
Some of the most important parts about smut are the actions taken. But describing actions can only do so much before you just sound repetitive every two to three lines/paragraphs. I find that most people fall into this trap when describing physical characteristics.
Like, if a character's dick/clit/pussy was described and established to be big/hard/wet/etc., during the first few sentences of the previous paragraph, you don't need to state it over again a few breaks down. Instead, tell the audience what they're doing or thinking about that that's turning them on. And then, after that, tell the audience how that's making them feel.
Sometimes it helps to establish a action/cause and effect sort of protocol. I tend to choose three different variations:
● If Character A does this, then it will cause Character B to feel like that.
● If Character B does this, then it will cause Character A to react like that.
● If Character 1 does this, then it will cause Character 2 to feel/look/bodily react like that.
You can even follow it up with a sort of "Therefore" and explain how the reaction is perceived by the person causing it. And yes I'm plugging my own writing as an example.
● Action/Cause: "He hooks the edge of your camisole with a thumb and pulls until the breast he’d captured spills free."
● Effect/Bodily Reaction: "The naked heat of his palm makes the air hang in your lungs for a few seconds before it picks up in your chest."
● Action: "Erik’s thumb traces the prominent, dark edge of an areola, travelling over the soft rise of your nipple before toying idly with it."
● Effect: "it beads and hardens into ebony under his fingertips,"
● Bodily Reaction: "your lashes flutter slightly."
● Therefore: "He rolls and strokes until it becomes difficult to ignore without fidgeting."
That's how it all works together in harmony to provide details when you apply it with more general descriptions of things, then add dialogue and prose.
✨
When it it's time to get down to the real business, pairing action with more descriptive reactions/thoughts works the best for me:
Fave examples:
"You whimper through the initial ache, your hands flying up to find purchase on his arms as he keeps them locked around you."
"He doesn’t let up, keeping you cracked open around him and impeding any twitch or squirm of your hips as his movements circle back in a tight, painstaking rhythm."
"He digs in deep, stretching you out like he’s trying to make space for himself in a place much too small for him to fit in."
"Your body begins to make room for him as he recarves his place inside you—He stays nestled there; hollowing out every hidden crack and corner."
And of course this entire nasty gem:
Also, if you're looking to extend sex or romance scenes, you don't have to think up 83 new positions to keep dragging one scene out for a hundred thousand words.
Try switching to a more limited pov to give a brief look into one of the character's thoughts and feelings.
One more exampled protip:
When it comes to sounds/moans/etc., try to describe that in words as well. You do not have to describe the sounds of sex with the same "slap slap slap. plap plap plap." sound-effect cues you see in a rule34 hentai manga 😭
Ending tips:
● Use a thesaurus when you run out of ways to say one word. And don't be afraid to completely reword a sentence or paragraph to make it fit better either.
● Please re-read your stuff before posting it. Fanfic doesn't have to be perfect, but you want it to be legible to anyone reading it.
● I encourage you to develope your characters a bit more beyond what they bring to the bedroom so that you can give them more of that feeling and detail you're looking for in smut scenes. That connection and immersion for the audience only works with incite into how they think and act.
Hope this helped you a bit anon, I'm going to go put myself in horny jail for the remainder of the night💕
I'm not afraid to drop an actual @, so once again, Hi Epiphany/nahimjustfeelingit-writes
EDIT: I want to clarify something that I did not realize was something people didn't understand because of the way she worded things to her followers but, we were mutuals. She actually followed me first not long after I posted my story because she reblogged it. Which was my point about mentioning interaction. I was on her dashboard until a couple weeks ago. And I can count on one hand the amount of times she was ever in my notifications after that, yet there are all these "coincidences".
I came to you privately and did my damnedest to be cordial and impartial about all this and you thought it would be cute of you to do this shit for whatever reason instead of just agreeing to disagree and blocking one another.
I sent you a DM yesterday afternoon that you ignored. I sent a few more messages that evening when I saw you replying to people. You ignored it. So I sent you an ask at 9:20 this morning that you could have also easily replied privately to and you chose not to.
I don't know why you felt the need to lie about that when it's in your own screenshots with timestamps. But then again, you barely read what I was saying to you before responding in the first place.
And it's probably why you reblogged this post trying to be funny after you talked to me.
I truly do not care about any of the shit you're waxing. You're saying more in public posts and asks than you were willing to say to my face one on one because you need followers echoing you in the background. Which tells me a lot about your character lol.
I chose the mature route of NOT publicly calling you out, and I'm glad I did. The bullshit you're egging on in your comments and asks just proves my point. You're trying to cover your ass by blasting this down the dashboard like some kind of social media influencer wannabe instead of someone in a fandom trying to cultivate a community.
I honestly could've done the same to you. I have other blogs with a hefty amount of followers as well, so I know how this goes. I've been on here since 2012 the same way you been here since 2018. But when I get responses like this, I no longer give a fuck about being nice or liked. I get my attention at home from friends and family like everyone else and come to tumblr for interaction from like-minded creatives.
Clearly that's not what you're about.
I was truly going to just leave things where they were in the DMs and block you, girl. But since you want to put on your clown wig and have everyone on here talking crazy, I'm taking off the filter.
If your story is about the same character, and has the same theme, the same wording setups, AND the same dialogue (remixed✨ apparently), with a similarly themed OC, I'm gonna notice.
And first thing I'm doing is putting the entire conversation up here without any cutoffs.
Never once did I say that your plot was "exactly the same as mine", you projected that shit into the conversation because you didn't read. I even clarify that when you asked. Any good creative or artist knows you don't have to copy "everything" to be inspired by someone else.
No one told you that making an Erik College AU meant that you're stealing. So for future reference; Words mean things✨
What is the likelihood of you having every single one of these elements in your story at the same time as me, for the same damn character, in the same damn fandom, if you're "creative" enough to make up your own shit?
Here's the post I mentioned about the Wakanda Forever thing btw [ x ] because she even used the same picture from the gifs in her recent chapter [ x ]
Like, I didn't even mention the whole thing where your OC goes on a random date with a "good guy that's really good for her, but she doesn't really like him because she actually wants Erik. and it makes him jealous" thing the same damn way I mention Bunny did with Tyler.
But alllll of that is coincidentally in your story at the same damn time, I guess??
I can even put another obvious example from my chapter three scene since you wanted another one so badly.
But you're "always recycling old dialogue", right?
Speaking of examples, you asked me for evidence, but as of right now; you've blocked me again🙄, you've unpinned your latest chapter of Say My Name, made your blog unsearchable and deleted old asks. Why would someone not feeling guilty do that?
And I'm curious about what happened to this ask in particular from January 23rd that got suddenly deleted today after you started asking for me to post up??? [ x ]
Like, that's okay, cause I got screenshots, but none of this really makes you look any better after reblogging multiple posts talking shit to me, now does it?
It's funny how the same day that you answered this ^^ You were also in my notifications liking a post. Granted, you can say you liked it from a reblog, but my point is that you were adjacent to or on my blog that day.
Now what does this have to do with you being a weirdo? Well, it was around the time I was answering asks about Indelible that included the AU lore I made for the heart-shaped herb and how it affects the body. [ x ]
Which is an element I already have in my story btw.
I even talked about planning to expand on it all in other very detailed asks. [ x ] [ x ]
Now why, in your very normal sounding College AU that has NEVER mentioned Erik being super-human, royalty, or having ANYTHING to do with the heart-shaped herb, suddenly have this as an insinuated plot point??? And then why would you delete the evidence of you saying it??? You gonna justify this as "you sent me an ask to trick me" too?
Cause, GIRL?? After a while coincidences are no longer coincidences.
And because you want to be funny and incite your followers to talk more shit—ESPECIALLY ones like this [ x ] who openly harasses writers cause she too fucking dumb to heed the warnings on that same fanfic—I now feel the need to be hilarious.
Babe, I didn't say you stole my whole plotline because there isn't a plot to be found in your story. It's empty filler and descriptions that repeat themselves. Like, you keke-ing with people saying I'm jealous and I'm wondering why I would be jealous of this???
And does that stuff you wrote above flow or read ANYTHING like what you wrote here??? [ x ]
Or does it sound like the advice in the ask this entire post is reblogged from as I said?
Like, you cannot make this shit up at this point😭
Yes, I said you copied the advice I gave without interacting. And then you conveniently got a smut story request for Erik THE SAME DAMN DAY, obviously using that advice, and even the examples I give. Which were ALSO FROM INDELIBLE, MIND YOU.
And I hope you didn't hurt yourself reaching for the screen when you projected the idea that EYE or anyone I know sent you requests. Because what the fuck would that even prove? 😭 Hooow would that work in my favor? I clearly had no problems showing I got the clit to come to you directly when enough became enough.
And yeah I'm about to be meaner, because if something actually happened in the 101k word story you've magically written since December, then there'd be something else to actually consider besides what I showed and named above.
Because what is Say My Name even about? How does any of the shit you've written so far connect together to make a plot? What direction will that whole fuckass relationship you strung together go when it's based off of literally nothing but the settings you read in my story and heard me mention?
Both Erik and your OC sound confused and repetitive half the time because you can't commit to making their personalities fit the non-existent plot you have going on. And that's because it's based off borrowed elements of my OC's more submissive personality constantly flip-flopping with your need to make your OC be "in control" or whatever. Even Erik goes between "I'm a threatening badass, and she doesn't know what she's dealing with" to "wow this girl I never paid attention to until 24hrs ago is SUPER important to me".
It's almost as if they were supposed to have had some kinda pre-established relationship, huh?
Because there is no "complex plot", it makes what you've done very obvious to people who actually read and comprehend them. Your whole chapters be 20k something words each, just spinning in circles because they barely move from the kitchen or bedroom of that brownstone/townhouse you put them in.
And as for the whole "I've been writing since 2018" bullshit.
Okay?? Congratulations, I've been writing creatively since grade school, front and back of college-rule paper with binders filled from top to bottom. That shit is not an excuse.
─────────────────────
Now, let's say you got to this point of the post and you still disagree she was being weird and taking shit from my story. Aight cool. I honestly don't care. Agree to disagree like I originally intended. But since she ousted herself, yeah, the majority of the shit she's been putting out since 2025 is mixed with, or at times, completely written with AI.
It shows. EVERYWHERE. And I feel bad for the people she's gaslighting into believing she's not.
As your followers pointed out, I talk about AI a lot. Most real artists and writers do nowadays. The amount of fucks I give about all the people laughing like high schoolers about this in your asks and comments amounts to the same fraction of Black in Mary's DNA.
I cite my sources and findings openly without running into everybody's inbox on anon or telling them I hate them under their posts. [ x ] [ x ] [ x ]
Please cry me a river to replenish the water all that AI is sucking up from marginalized Black and Brown neighborhoods if that upsets you.
Like this is literally the part that aggravated me most. You used my shit with AI and are lying your WHOLE ass off about it, and all I asked you to do was STOP DOING THAT WITH MY SHIT.
^^^ Most of that is from one chapter of your story, and people who see these patterns and read actual books know exactly what this is.
I even take AI detectors with a huge grain of salt when looking at them, and your shit STILL scores 70, 80 and 100%s
From several different checkers, mind you.
^^All that was randomly sampled from the beginning of your last chapter of Sanctified Heat. [ x ]
You've even used it to reply to asks. Because what in the chatGPT analysis is this??
So like I said, I don't know what the hell your problem is, but you asked for smoke, so I brought you fire.
I deadass wouldn't have minded you taking inspiration and borrowing if you could've just been fucking normal about it. But you wanted to show out, so this is all I really got to say on the matter.
And forgive me, Umber, for jumping on your post, but what are we doing 🫠
I can't believe this needs to be said aloud. AI is theft, full stop. Stealing from another writer, a real Black writer during Black History Month, is wrong.
AI is the very enemy to creativity and does not belong in creative spaces. Computers cannot feel. They cannot think. They cannot write. And feeding someone else's hard work into a machine to be regurgitated into senseless slop is ten levels of fucked up and unethical. AI and bad minded behavior do not belong on a hobby website for hobby activities.
Tumblr is not a social media app in the usual sense. It is for the free thinkers, dreamers, and the strange. It is an anonymous app where no one knows who the hell you are. You can't clout chase on an anonymous website. 🥲 You can't be Tumblr famous over words you can't be bothered to write or proofread 🫠
Fanfic is a hobby. It is a labor of love. It is being so completely un-normal about a piece of media that you have to write about it and find others to talk about it with. But it also takes real work to learn the rules and create something meaningful. When you're trying to be a social media Queen Bee on an anonymous app, you get people who want to cheat because they refuse to do the work to learn how to write.
Using AI is cheating. And cheating at a hobby, cheating at something that's free and accessible to everyone, is wild and weird behavior quite honestly. For...what end goal? More followers? More likes? To be the "best writer on here"? That's empty praise and cold comfort on something stolen and fabricated. It's a poorman's participation trophy.
If you use AI to cheat, write, respond to comments and asks, then you're a loser. You do not belong in this space. AI will never be welcome. It will never be fetch. It will never have a place on this site. It is not inevitable. It is not all powerful. And your AI fics are hella obvious, BTW. Ya'll don't use it but conveniently have the same writing style and turns of phrase 🙄
If you don't know how to spot AI use, here is a handy guide lovingly crafted by Umber to spot it. But do not go on a witch hunt 🤨: Common AI Phrases
I am deeply disgusted at what I witnessed, what was discussed on this post, and how people have jumped down Umber's asks with hate mail and cult-like behavior when she dropped nothing but fact after fact. And now you're doxxing her??
This was an A&B conversation that should have stayed one. Since it didn't, it needs to be addressed. The culture on here has been broken for a long while. Black fanfic spaces are embarrassing and frustrating to be in. Yall don't want it fixed and that's fine. However, this post and the resulting peanut gallery commentary finally PROVES that most of ya'll were never interested in community and don't actually READ these fics.
You're interested in smut by any means necessary. Who can write it the fastest and the best. No regard for characters, plot, or overall mood. No follow up questions, no discussions, and no theories. This place is a zombie wasteland, gobbling up smut fics like it's going out of style and then immediately demanding the next one without so much as a thank you. Which leads to instances like this. ☝🏽
Overproducing subpar fics with no real story or plot that's repetitive, written poorly, and lacking any coherent thought. But hey, as long as the smut is there, who cares? 🤷🏽♀️ honestly, go watch porn at this point and get off this site.
A lot of folks 🤨 owe Umber a huge apology, out loud, full chest. Because if not guilty, why guilty shaped?
For extra credit
And always remember that if you feel itchy, take it up with a higher power, not me. My block hand stay strong 🥰😘
:/ This is fucked up. Seeing this in a Black centered fandom at that?
I already got wind of AI being other black fanfic spaces, but seeing it in sinners is...surpising?? But also disappointing.
Its not like Umber-Cinders came off rudely or anything. She came with screenshots and seemed to approach it pretty diplomatically. And with how far the other author content goes back and being as I am a incognito reader.
Im surpised she answered like that, instead of answering and generally talking about it. Seeing her blowing off the conversation and trying to bully Umber. Definitely has put a bad taste in my mouth for that corner of Sinners fandom.
That's cringe as hell.
I feel like being honest could of turning this conversation a totally different direction or just tagging the OG and moving on. But that's my opinion.
This post went over everyone’s head because it wasn’t a blatant copy-and-paste. But the story sequence is identical, and given how the whole situation played out... yeah. This just goes to show how people who only read fanfiction or erotica sometimes struggle to understand nuance when it isn't clearly slapped in their face.
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With story theft running rampant, people constantly misidentify what "inspiration" actually means. I'm going to explain the definitive line between building on an idea and stealing someone’s work.
1. The Difference
Inspiration: You read a story, and a specific concept, dynamic, or emotional description resonates with you, sparking an entirely new, original idea. You take that spark and write it using your own voice, your own structural layout, unique dialogue, and your own world-building.
Plagiarism: You took the author’s blueprint. Changing a few adjectives, swapping character names, or using a thesaurus to copy the same sentence structure is theft. It does not matter if you physically typed the words yourself; if you stole the exact paragraph flow, lines of dialogue, scene-by-scene progression, and specific narrative, it is plagiarism
2. Textual Examples: Seeing the Difference
Example A: The Physical Discomfort / Closet Setup
The Original Work by @2neaky:
The Plagiarized Version by @getmoneygirl:
Why this is theft: The author did zero original structural thinking. Even though they converted the perspective to second person ("you") and changed the underlying cause from a food allergy to ovulation, they stole the exact flow of the scene. They followed the identical sequence of physical moments: standing at the mirror, pulling up a top, analyzing a slight swell over the waistband of sweatpants, prodding the skin, experiencing an unexpected sharp ache low in the stomach, and combining a teeth-sucking sound with the exact dialogue "Are you fucking serious?" They even wrapped the sequence up with the exact same comfort element—the realization that they are wearing their boyfriend's oversized clothing. This is lifting a writer's unique pacing and creative choices, then just rephrasing the sentences to hide it.
The Inspired Version (genuine creative transition):
The mirror was a harsh critic, but the tight, heavy pressure building in her lower abdomen was worse. She adjusted the waistband of her track pants, sighing at how unforgiving the fabric felt against her bloated skin today. It was a dull, heavy ache that made even standing up straight feel like an effort. Sucking in a breath, she leaned against the cool porcelain of the sink and closed her eyes, waiting for the sudden cramp to subside. "Not today," she muttered into the empty space. She did a series of deep breaths before giving up on the reflection entirely, she grabbed the nearest oversized shirt from the laundry basket—his, of course, smelling faintly of cinnamon—and drowned herself in the fabric, desperately seeking the extra room and comfort.
Alternative Inspired Version (even more distinct):
The apartment was dark when he arrived, save for the faint glow of the television. You were curled on the sofa, staring blankly at a sitcom, completely drained. Hormonal shifts always hit you hard, turning minor inconveniences into insurmountable walls. He didn't ask questions. He ran a hot bath, dumping in the lavender salts you kept in the cabinet, and left a mug of chamomile tea on the counter. When you finally climbed into the tub, he sat on the bathmat beside you, quietly recounting a stupid story from his workday just to give you something to focus on.
Why this is inspiration: It takes a similar core concept—a character dealing with sudden bloating/discomfort in front of a mirror and finding comfort in a partner's clothing—but the execution is entirely unique. The physical reactions are different, the dialogue is completely distinct, and the atmospheric flow belongs entirely to a new writer rather than copying another author's story.
Example B: The Studio / Creative Frustration Setup
The Original Work by @aizawash0e:
The Plagiarized Version (Structural Theft & Setting Copier):
The track had been looping in your headphones for hours. It was the usual routine, you trapped in the vocal booth, the headset pressed to your ears, standing right before the microphone. The music stand held your printed lyrics, though you didn't actually need them. You knew every word by heart, but the vibe wasn't hitting right. Maybe staring at the physical pages would help you see what the issue was. You couldn't figure out if it was your delivery, the track, or the words, but something waswrong. On the other side of the double-paned glass was the high-end control room, with its expensive leather chairs, state-of-the-art gear, and walls covered in your plaques and favorite singers' albums. Sitting across the glass were your manager, Maya, your assistant and best friend, Chloe, and right in the center, sitting directly at the mixing board was Jordan, your producer and boyfriend.
Why this is theft: Once again, this is a complete narration lift. The plagiarist changed a few vocabulary words and swapped the character names, but they stole the exact pacing, the specific internal conflict, and the layout of the room. They copied the exact progression: blocking out hours in the booth, staring at a lyric sheet the character already knows by heart to diagnose a vague creative block, describing the expensive control room through the glass, listing the plaques on the wall, and naming the exact same three-person lineup in the exact same seating order (Manager->Assistant/Friend ->Producer/Boyfriend at the center of the board).
The Inspired Version by @alaiasole: Studio Nights (lacks credit)
The Inspired Version:
The vocal booth always felt a little claustrophobic after midnight, the heavy foam walls swallowing up every breath. She leaned her forehead against the cool metal of the pop filter, letting the instrumental track bleed through her open-back headphones for the twentieth time. The song was technically perfect, but the emotional delivery was dead on arrival. Across the studio floor, the glass partition reflected the green and red glow of the soundboard. Her producer—who also happened to be the guy she went home to every night—was slumped in his chair, rubbing his eyes while their small puppy dozed off on his lap. She didn't need to look at a lyric sheet to know they were losing the magic; she just needed him to cut the playback so they could figure it out.
Why this is inspiration: It takes the exact same premise—a singer experiencing a creative block inside a recording booth while her producer/boyfriend watches from the control room—but it builds an entirely fresh scene. The atmosphere is different, the character's physical reaction to the frustration is unique, the room layout isn't copied bead-for-bead, and it relies on completely original imagery instead of piggybacking off another writer's structural draft.
Example C: The Direct Copy-Paste
The Original Work by @liliacsdelight:
The Plagerized Fic by @lovedcow:
Why this is theft: The wording is identical, copy-and-pasting has been done, and the entire story follows the original's structure, dialogue, and pacing.
The Inspired Version: You didn't know what to do after last night. The timeline in your head kept looping back to the exact moment the screen shifted on FaceTime. He had been screensharing something stupid, a corny video about JJK fans, when his thumb swiped too far left and cracked open his camera roll, and you saw it. The apology after had been clumsy, automated. "Oh, um... sorry. Just forget you saw that." You had forced your face to stay flat, keeping the conversation running on autopilot until the random facts about whales became too awkward breathe through. "Who are you even sending nudes to?" you’d asked, trying for a detached, casual tone. He’d shifted on his end of the screen, the sudden flare of embarrassment turning the tips of his ears dark. "Nobody," he muttered. You let out a dry, sarcastic hum. "Riiiight." Then he’d leaned into the camera, a sudden, nervous joke cutting through the static. "Why? You want some?" The air had left your lungs instantly. Your throat felt coated in sand, a sudden, choking heat climbing up your neck. You mumbled some half-baked excuse about needing to throw laundry in or check the door, snapping the call shut before he could see the panic in your eyes. And now, twenty-four hours later, your brain was stuck in a loop.
3. Why Giving Credit Matters
People love to argue, "No one owns a trope! Ideas aren't unique!"
True, no one owns the producer trope or the comfort trope. But if you read a specific author's work, and their specific execution of a trope gave you the idea to write your own version, give them credit. A simple "Inspired by @[Author Name]'s incredible story" costs you nothing. It shows humility, respects the community, and acknowledges that another creator's brain sparked your own creativity.
Feigning ignorance and pretending you came up with a hyper-specific concept entirely in a vacuum after just interacting with their post is transparent and disrespectful.
4. The Parasitic Nature of Theft and AI
When you copy an author's story, run someone's work through an AI generator, or use AI to write your fanfiction, you are announcing that you are lazy and talentless.
Writing is a muscle. The more you struggle through the awkward drafts, look for the right words, and build your own worlds, the more your mind expands and your skills improve. If you slack off and steal, you will never grow. You will remain a scummy, fake-writer.
If you want to get better:
Read actual literature: Stop consuming exclusively internet erotica. Read published books, analyze their prose, and study how professional authors pace a scene.
Do your research: Learn about the subjects you write about.
Seek feedback: Reach out to authors you admire and ask for constructive criticism (I still do this even though my writing has improved drastically).
5. How to Handle Story Theft
To the authors and readers who care about this community; telling thieves to stop won't magically fix their morals. We have to look out for one another—especially keeping an eye on popular accounts or new creators who quietly lift concepts, plot structures, and entire stories from other writers.
If you find your work has been plagiarized:
Gather Proof: Take screenshots immediately. Document the timestamps, the exact paragraphs, lines, and the formatting matches.
Decide Your Approach: You can handle it privately if you think it's a new writer who genuinely doesn't understand anything. Or, if they are malicious and you just want to, you can put them on blast publicly. Expose them and spread awareness outside of your immediate circle.
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Hi everyone! I hope you’re all having a great year.
Sorry for the recent delays. I know I was supposed to be giving you all lots of lesbianism and monster fucking all month, but between a busy schedule, dealing with life stuff, and recently finding out my work was plagiarized, I needed a short break from this app to figure out my plans.
Moving forward, I am transitioning my longer stories (anything over 8.5k words) to AO3, which will be set up late next month-ish. I want my long-form writing to live in a space that appreciates deeper narration and character development.
What to expect here going forward:
Less frequent short stories
Teasers/beginnings of my longer stories (with links to the full versions on AO3)
Moodboards and character profiles
Whatever I want
I won't be on this app as much since it’s lost some of its spark for me 😅 Take care of yourselves, stay hydrated, and keep thriving!
yeah, there’s ANOTHERRRR THIEF 😭 and they stole THE SAME STORY from @babyjslovergirl
og on the left, fraud bitch on the right!
just because you changed up some words don’t make it less weird, you bitches are truly out of yall fucking minds.
as far as the other loser bitch, @musialaslut goes, they just deleted/disabled their account, but of course there are other weirdos still around stealing shit from more writers than this.
they have more fics up, PLEASE check if your stories are being stolen by these random ass new “writers”
and to everyone who has fallen victim (like me) to unimaginative bitches like this, i’m so sorry like i can’t believe shit like this is still happening
FRAUD WATCH SO FAR: @musialaslut ( deleted acc for now), @jaafarsaura , @ratzworld (deleted for now)
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an. hey here's a on the whim Father's Day drabble. had to write for my baby daddy... also heard there was an only drought.
cw. i didn't proofread sorry... p in v cowgirl, reader and only are married with two daughters, also chubby reader was in mind when writing, uh I feel like this is pretty tame, creampie? slightly sub. ony, I just like men slightly submissive can you tell lol?
Onyankopon was the richest man on earth. Maybe not financially but spiritually? He was full. He had his dream career, two precious baby girls, and he had you. The one who’s been with him through thick thin. The one that loved him at his lowest. The one that was willing to go through the trials of pregnancy and birth–not once, but twice. He doesn’t know what he’d do without his family and he’d do anything for his girls.
So, when father’s day rolls around easily you go above and beyond for your beloved. Your two girls are more than eager to do things for their daddy who spoils them absolutely rotten. You guys started with breakfast in bed. Your daughters, doing their best to stay quiet while they helped you make breakfast. Later on, Ony hears hushed voices outside of the door but he pretends to still be asleep–like he does every year. The door creaks open and he hears little footsteps and then the bed shifts under the weight of two little children.
“Daddy… Daddy, wake up…” Arya, who is seven, whispers.
“Yeah, wake up, Daddy,” Ayla, who is four, whispers after her older sister. Ony smiles before peeking one eye open. The girls squeal and giggle.
“Happy Father’s Day!” They exclaim in unison. Ayla plops down on him to give him a big hug while Arya showers his face with kisses. He chuckles deeply, taking the affection happily.
“Thank you, babies,” He says with a grin. You stand there with the tray that has his breakfast on it. Watching him lovingly listen to your daughters yapping about the plans for the day fills you with a love that’s so strong it makes your heart pound against your chest. You can’t help but think about everything he does for your family. The sacrifices, the late nights, and the undying patience. You couldn’t have picked a better man.
After a day full of fun activities, you come back home. The girls absolutely tuckered out. The usual bedtime routine is much easier with the girls so tired. Onyankopon kisses both of their foreheads, sweet and gentle. Ayla is seconds away from slumber, eyes fluttering shut.
“Goodnight, Daddy. Hope you had a good day,” Arya, mumbles before yawning. Onyankopon smiles big.
“I had a great day. Goodnight, love ya’ll,” He replies, Ayla mumbles something incoherent. He chuckles as he quietly makes his exit and shuts the door. You’re in the bedroom ready for bed. Well… ready for Ony. You can’t let him end Father’s Day without his very deserved and final gift.
So, yes you push on his favorite nightgown you owned. Lilac, borderline sheer and loose in a way that leaves just enough for the imagination. So when he steps foot inside of your shared bedroom, he's pleasantly surprised to see his wife. Freshly showered and dressed in his favorite sleepwear (It could be considered lingerie in his eyes). “What’s the occasion, Baby?” He asks with a slight grin. Eyes gleaming like a kid in a candy store. You saunter your way over to him, hands sliding up his shoulders and back down to his chest.
“You’re such a good daddy to our girls… thought you’d like another gift before bed,” You reply. You swear you hear him stifling giggles. He's so giddy.
“Yeah? For me?” He asks, smiling wide and already starting to undress. You playfully roll your eyes. The way he’s acting, you would think he never gets any.
“Yes, Onyankopon,” You chuckle, He pulls you in close.
“Just don’t take this off,” He mumbles, tugging lightly on the fabric. You nod, feeling up his abs and chest before kissing your way down his neck. His hands circle your waist, gently squeezing before his ducks his head to kiss you deeply. He breaks the kiss. “You know what else I want?” He asks and you hum leaning in for another kiss.
That gets you here, on top of him, riding him like your life depends on it. Ony is in paradise unable to take his eyes off of you. So pretty, tits bouncing underneath sheer fabric and your pussy squeezing snugly around his thick length. You both try to stifle your moans. Your pace only building and building.
“Oh fuck, don’t stop, baby. Riding my shit just right,” He groans as quietly as he can manage and you let out a choked whimper.
“Yeah, you deserve it, daddy,” You reply, breathless and whiny. He groans louder, you shove your middle and ring finger in his mouth to muffle the sound. “Shhh, gotta stay quiet, baby,” You mutter. He nods and sucks on your fingers. Laying back and taking what you give. Building him up and up until you feel the familiar twitch and his face screws up. “You gonna cum? Do it, baby, cum inside me,” You encourage with a breathless moan. That he does spilling inside you, hot and thick. His hands hold your hips for dear life until you stop. You giggle as you watch him pant heavily around your fingers that you so gingerly pull out. You grace him with a gentle kiss and smile.
Aww, this is so sweet! Starting the day with breakfast in bed with the family, and ending it with some freaky time with the wife? Perfection. Also, I looove that she shoved her fingers in his mouth, and the dirty talk—Jelly gets it, y'all. SLUT THAT MAN OUT! Anyway, what a lovely fic 🥰
While shopping at a cute boutique, you run into your friend Rangiku Matsumoto—the chaotic and beautiful Lieutenant of the Soul Society's 10th Division. She stops to chat for a moment before being whisked away by her duties. But the separation doesn't last long. Late that night, she shows up at your door claiming she wants a sleepover. As it turns out, "sleeping" is the last thing on her mind, and the two of you stay up for hours exploring a whole new side of your relationship with a variety of toys.
·⭑·6,386 words, build up, light banter, smut/explicit sexual content(18+), making out, cunnilingus, groping, praise, a hint of degradation, dirty talk, use of toys (rabbit vibrator, rose toy, and dildo), service dom reader, overstimulation, petnames/name-calling(e.g., baby, sweetie, honey, doll, good girl), etc ·⭑·
Will edit later; ignore the mistakes!
For the Gala Of Pride (A Pride Month Collaboration Between @h3avenlyglory & @mtcloudsworld)
·⭑·18+ 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒐𝒓𝒔 𝑫𝒐 𝑵𝒐𝒕 𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕·⭑·
The brass chimes above the door of Ore's Oasis let out a soft, melodic chime every time a customer walked in, but your attention was consumed by the rack of imported linen in front of you. The mid-day sun was scorching outside, baking the city streets in a hazy, blistering heat, but inside the boutique, the air conditioning hummed a cool, crisp tune.
You held a small, woven shopping basket in your left hand, already containing a pair of one pieces and a gold anklet. You were trying to exercise some financial restraint, but everything in this shop was too cute.
Suddenly, the hair on the back of your arms stood up.
A ripple altered the atmospheric pressure in the room. To an ordinary human, it would have felt like a passing dizzy spell or a drop in indoor temperature. But to you—carrying a reservoir of spiritual pressure that had spiked drastically over the last few years—it was a beacon. You tensed for a fraction of a second, your fingers freezing on a hanger, before the specific flavor of the energy registered. It was warm, dizzying, incredibly vast, and carried the subtle, unmistakable undertone of premium sake.
You relaxed, a helpless smile tugging at your lips. You knew exactly who that belonged to.
You had met Rangiku Matsumoto a few months back under eventful circumstances. You’d been over at Orihime Inoue’s apartment attempting to teach her how to cook a standard, edible meal without her adding red bean paste, whipped cream, or mustard to a traditional hotpot. Midway through chopping scallions, Rangiku had materialized through the kitchen window, completely unannounced, clad in her black Soul Reaper robes and looking for a place to crash. The two of you had hit it off instantly over shared frustrations regarding stubborn men, a mutual love for retail therapy, and affection your friends.
Shaking off the memory, you pulled a piece from the rack. It was a gorgeous, lightweight top featuring a vibrant, swirling pattern of pastel yellow, blush pink, and cream white. It was airy for the hot weather. You checked the tag—your size. Perfect. But the matching shorts were scattered, forcing you to begin flipping through the hangers to find your fit.
Ding.
The door chimes rattled again, much louder this time. At the exact same moment, a prickle of discomfort hit your neck. You could feel someone staring at you. Hard.
You spun around on your heel, a "what the hell are you looking at" glare already locked onto your features. You were well-trained in the art of handling creeps. A man a few feet away, holding a shopping bag for his girlfriend, was staring wide-eyed, his mouth practically hanging open. But as you tracked the trajectory of his glazed eyes, you realized something humiliating—he wasn’t looking at you at all. He was staring directly past your shoulder, completely mesmerized.
You turned your head.
Framed in the doorway of the chic boutique was a sight that defied human physics. Rangiku Matsumoto was standing there, practically buried beneath a mountain of glossy, neon-colored shopping bags. There had to be at least fifteen of them dangling from her slender arms, overflowing with tissue paper, silk ribbons, and high-end logos from the luxury district down the avenue.
Right beside her—or rather, completely obscured behind the towering wall of paper bags—was a very short, irritated spiritual presence. You couldn't see him through the luggage, but the sheer, icy-cold pressure radiating from the lower hemisphere of the pile told you everything you needed to know. It was Captain Hitsugaya.
"Oh my gosh!"
Rangiku’s eyes locked onto you through the racks of clothing. Before her captain could even utter a word of protest, she spun around and ruthlessly thrust the entire fifteen-bag payload directly into Toshiro’s small arms, burying him alive.
"Hold these, Captain! I found her!" she squealed, her voice a high, joyful sound that shattered the quiet elegance of the boutique.
She sprinted across the polished boutique floor, her strappy wedge sandals clicking loud against the tile. Before you could even brace yourself, she threw her arms around your neck. Your entire world was blacked out, replaced by the cloud-like, and suffocating warmth of her breasts pressing directly into your face.
You were entirely smothered in her cleavage, inhaling the expensive scent of her human-world perfume—sweet jasmine and amber—mixed with the comforting caress of her spirit.
You smiled against the soft fabric of her top, your voice muffled into her chest. "Hi, Rangiku."
"I knew it was you. I could feel your spirit energy from three blocks away!" she cried, finally pulling back just a fraction, though she refused to let you go. Her manicured hands remained planted on your shoulders, her thumbs sliding down to stroke the bare skin near your collarbone with a languid touch.
Up close, Rangiku Matsumoto was a staggering testament to physical beauty. In her human gigai, she had abandoned her standard Soul Reaper uniform for something more fashionable. She was wearing a low-cut coral sundress that clung to the curves of her hourglass figure like a second skin. The neckline plunged, barely managing to corral the abundance of her breasts, exposing a vast expanse of smooth, golden skin that glowed with a healthy, sun-kissed radiance.
Her face was so perfect to you. She possessed sharp, elegant cheekbones and a rounded jawline that gave her an expression of mischievous youth. Her eyes were a piercing sky-blue—heavy-lidded, framed by thick, dark lashes. Her lips were full, painted in a glossy, berry-pink shade that perfectly matched her dress, curling up into a wide, smile that bared her white teeth.
But her crowning glory was her hair. A cascading waterfall of thick, voluminous strawberry-blonde waves tumbled past her shoulders, spilling over her back and framing her face in a wild, beautifully unkempt mane that seemed to catch every single ray of light filtering through the boutique window. A few stray, golden-orange strands clung to the damp skin of her neck, a proof to the heat outside.
You ignored the envious stares of the other shoppers in the store, as well as the muffled, furious grunts of Captain Hitsugaya, who was attempting to balance a designer shoe box on top of his head while trapped beneath her bags.
"What are you doing in this part of town?" you asked, leaning back slightly against the clothing rack, though Rangiku’s arms just slid down to wrap tightly around your waist, pulling your hips closer to hers in a casual display of intimacy.
"Oh, it's wonderful!" Rangiku beamed, her blue eyes crinkling at the corners as she leaned in close, her breath warm against your cheek. She played idly with the strap of your shopping basket, her long, painted nails brushing against your fingers.
"The Head Captain gave us special permission to stay in the World of the Living for an extra two days to monitor some anomalous hollow fluctuations in the sector. But the Captain finished all his boring data-gathering and paperwork early this morning! So, since we had the afternoon free, I told him he had to accompany his lovely lieutenant out for some much-needed summer shopping. And then I sensed you, and I just knew it was destiny."
She squeezed your waist, her ample chest brushing against your arm as she looked down at the top you were holding. "Oh, that is so cute on you. Let me help you find bottoms. We are going to turn you into a total knockout today. Oh, get that too!"
"I’m just getting a few things," you said, offering a small chuckle as you lifted your woven basket. "I'm really trying to watch my spending today."
Rangiku’s sculpted eyebrows knitted together into a frown. She let out a soft, sympathetic sigh, her lower lip pouting out just enough to make her look disappointed. "A budget? I understand, sweetie," she said, leaning in closer until the warmth of her shoulder brushed yours. "I am so glad I live in the Soul Society. Whenever my personal funds run dry, I just find a way to route my little excursions through the squad's administrative expenses. If the Captain doesn't notice the line items, it didn't happen."
You couldn't help but smile, your eyes drifting past her shoulder to focus on the annoyed, burdened man standing by the entrance.
"Hi, Captain Hitsugaya," you called out, raising a hand in greeting.
Toshiro’s small, white-haired head peered out from behind a massive neon-pink luxury shopping bag. His emerald eyes were narrowed into a flat, exhausted glare, but his manners held firm. "Hello," he rumbled back, his voice carrying the exhaustion of a man who had been walking in circles for hours. "Don't let her pull you into her financial delinquency."
Rangiku ignored him, her bright blue eyes lighting up as she reached out, her fingers gently touching the edge of your shoulder. "Your hair! It’s super different from the last time I saw you."
You smiled, touching one of the neat, long braids resting against your collarbone. "Yeah, I have a lot of plans this summer and I really didn’t want to deal with my natural hair out in this humidity. So, I just went ahead and got braids."
"That's is so pretty!" Rangiku beamed, her hand sliding down your arm in a warm gesture of approval. "The length looks amazing on you. It really frames your face."
With a quick pat to your hip, her short attention span caught on something across the store. "Ouu, look at that black top over there. I'll be right back!" She drifted away, leaving you to finish your task. You located the matching shorts in your size and headed straight for the glass-topped checkout counter.
While the cashier was ringing up your items, Toshiro walked up to the counter, his soul pager abruptly buzzing with a sharp, electronic chirp in his pocket. He looked down at the screen, his posture stiffening.
"Matsumoto," Toshiro said, his voice dropping into his strict, commanding register. "Change of plans. We just received new orders from the Soul Society. We need to report to the local coordinate checkpoint immediately."
A loud groan echoed from the clothing racks. Rangiku trudged over, the long black top dangling limply from her hand. "Are you serious, Captain? We just got here! Can't the anomalous fluctuations wait for like... twenty more minutes?"
"No," Toshiro snapped cleanly, adjusting the strap of a heavy designer bag on his shoulder. "We'll come back later. Let's go."
You couldn't help the amused grin that broke across your face. Even though Hitsugaya was technically centuries older than most humans and held one of the most powerful, respected positions in the military hierarchy of the afterlife, the dynamic between them never changed. To anyone else, he looked like a small kid, but standing next to Rangiku, she was unmistakably the chaotic child he was forced to babysit.
As you grabbed your small brown shopping bag from the cashier, you walked over toward Toshiro, extending a hand to relieve him of at least four of the larger bags hanging from his small wrists. "Here, let me help you with some of these."
Toshiro looked up, a faint, genuine flash of relief washing over his stern features. "Thank you," he murmured, exhaling a quiet breath as his shoulders dropped.
"Yeah. Thanks, doll. He could barely hold a few bags. Some captain he is." Rangiku chimed in, sweeping back into the huddle. She snatched the remaining payload from her captain, flashing you one last, smile as she walked toward the automatic glass doors. "Byeee. See you soon!"
-
The digital numbers on the clock glowed a dim green. 9:47pm. You were freshly showered, your skin smelling of your favorite body wash, and you were sitting comfortably in the middle of your bed in your modest apartment. The only real illumination provided by the shifting, colorful glow of the television screen playing a comforting slice-of-life anime. You sat with your legs crossed, picking at a bowl of fresh fruit with a fork. You had been craving dense, fudgy brownies all evening, but a thorough search of your pantry earlier had revealed you were out of box mix, leaving you to settle for the healthier alternative.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
A series of firm thuds rattled against your front door, breaking the stillness of the apartment.
You paused, a piece of melon hovering halfway to your mouth, your eyebrows knitting together in confusion. It was late. Your mind jumped through the alarming possibilities before settling on the most likely culprit. Rangiku. She probably needed a place to crash again to escape Toshiro's strict curfew or simply wanted a change of scenery from the Kurosaki residence.
You set the fruit bowl down on the nightstand, slid off the edge of the mattress, and navigated through the familiar, dark hallways of your apartment.
When you pulled the front door open, the bright, amber glow of the streetlights outside flooded the entryway, framing Rangiku against the night sky. She was leaning against the doorframe, a playful, slightly sheepish grin on her lips.
"Hi," she purred softly.
"Hi, Rangiku," you answered, leaning your shoulder against the door. "What are you doing here this late?"
"I wanted to have a sleepover," she said, her blue eyes instantly dropping down to scan your frame.
The television light from the bedroom cast a faint, angled glow down the hallway, catching the smooth, rich tone of your bare skin. You were wearing a matching pajama set—a lightweight, button-up top and a pair of matching shorts that rode up just enough to expose the full wealth of your thighs. Rangiku’s gaze lingered there for a beat too long, her eyes tracing the soft curve of your legs before traveling back up to meet your eyes.
"Look at you," she murmured, a genuine warmth in her voice. "You look so cute and cozy. Are you gonna let me in?"
"Of course, come on in," you said, stepping back to let her pass. As she walked past you into the cool air conditioning of the condo, you closed the door and slid the deadbolt into place. "Does Captain Hitsugaya need a place to stay tonight too? I can set up the couch."
"Oh, don't worry about him," Rangiku chuckled, waving a dismissive, hand over her shoulder as she walked down the hallway toward your bedroom. "He’s staying over at the Kurosakis' place, doing some boring tactical review with Ichigo. I told him I was leaving... and honestly? I wanted you all to myself."
She stepped into your bedroom, carrying a plastic convenience store bag that rattled with the distinct sound of chips and candy, alongside a much larger, heavy designer tote bag whose contents were obscured in the dim light. She set her things down on the corner of your dresser, her blue eyes taking in the atmosphere of the space. The room was dark, completely tranquil, with the animated characters on the TV screen casting soft blue and purple hues across your sheets.
"Were you about to go to sleep?" she asked, turning her head to look at you over her shoulder, her strawberry-blonde waves shifting over her back.
"Not for a few hours," you replied, walking past her toward your closet. "Let me get you something comfortable to wear."
You opened the closet door, rummaging through your shelves until you pulled out an oversized, soft cotton T-shirt and a pair of loose, stretchy athletic shorts. You walked back over and handed the bundle to her.
"Here, these should fit you well enough to sleep in."
"Thank you," Rangiku murmured, her voice dropping into a lower, softer register that felt intimate in the quiet room.
Without a hint of hesitation or modesty, her hand reached around to the back of her neck, unhooking the hidden clasp of her coral sundress.
You averted your eyes as the fabric slid down her hips, focusing your gaze on the television screen while she changed into the oversized shirt and shorts. The mattress dipped a second later as Rangiku slid under the cool sheets beside you, bringing that immense, comforting wall of warmth with her.
"What are we watching?" she asked, curling her long legs up beneath the blankets. You told her the name of the slice-of-life anime, your voice a little breathy in the quiet room. Leaning back against your pillows, you looked over at her.
"Did you and Captain Hitsugaya actually finish the mission?"
Rangiku let out a dramatic sigh and stretched her arms high above her head, the movement pulling the soft cotton of the shirt tight across her chest. "Yes. Paperwork is done, the spiritual coordinates are logged, and I am officially off the clock," she groaned happily, melting sideways until her shoulder and torso leaned against your side.
She had always been a physical, touchy person, but she possessed such a genuine heart that her constant closeness never made you feel uncomfortable. It made you think of the legendary sleepover the two of you had shared with Orihime a few months back—a night filled with absolute chaos, terrible kitchen experiments, and crying from laughing so hard. The memory kept the atmosphere in the room light, but as you looked down at her, an electric wave of tension rippled through the air. Rangiku had stopped looking at the TV. She was gazing up at you through her thick, dark lashes, her striking blue eyes reflecting the colorful, shifting light of the screen in a way that made your pulse hitch.
-
The lamp on your nightstand was clicked on now, bathing the bedroom in a golden glow that caught the empty snack wrappers piled neatly inside the plastic bag on your dresser. You sat there speechless, your jaw practically unhinged as you stared at what Rangiku was currently holding in her lap. Fished directly from the bottom of her designer tote bag were three very distinct, high-end human pleasure objects: a suction Rose toy, a thick silicone dildo, and a sleek, multi-speed rabbit vibrator.
A spike of embarrassment and sheer shock hit you, a rush of heat flooding your veins, and warming your cheeks. Rangiku, utterly unbothered, was beaming like a kid on Christmas morning.
"Don't look at me like that!" she laughed, her voice a musical, wicked purr as she shook the silicone toy at you. "Remember when we were gossiping at Orihime’s, and you said Ichigo was so oblivious that he wouldn't be laying a finger on her anytime soon, so she should just buy a toy? I looked into it! I am fully aware of all these modern human things now, but..." She shifted closer, her thigh pressing flush against yours as she set the items down on the blanket. Her expression became intensely enthusiastic, her blue eyes glittering. "I really want to try them out with you."
You hesitated, your fingers twisting into the fabric of your shorts, your throat feeling dry. "Umm... so... Rangiku, I don't know..."
Her lower lip instantly popped out into a pout. "Why not? You're my favorite human and you like me too, so it'll be better with you." Then, the playfulness vanished. Her voice dropped into a quieter, serious register that sent a shiver straight down your spine. Her eyes locked onto yours, refusing to break contact for even a fraction of a second. "Besides... I really liked making out with you that one time. And I think doing a lot more of it tonight would be nice. Can we?"
You took a slow, deep breath, taking in the surrealism of the moment. You had gone from eating fruit, snacking, and gossiping about soul society politics to sitting inches away from a beautiful lieutenant offering a pile of erotica. The tension in the room was hot. "Okay," you finally murmured, an assured spark taking over your senses as you leaned slightly over her. "But you're not using them on me. If we're doing this, I'm going to use every one of them on you."
A pleased, triumphant look washed over Rangiku's face, her lips curling into a wicked little grin. "Yes, please," she whispered.
You didn't waste another second. You leaned in and caught her mouth in a slow, deep kiss that fractured into a heavy rush of tongue. Rangiku let out a soft gasp against your lips, her mouth parting to welcome you as you pulled her body flush against yours. One of your hands slid directly under the hem of her oversized shirt, your palm gripping the curve of her hip, while your other hand came up to cradle the side of her jaw, your fingers tangling into the thick waves of her hair. She felt so soft and smooth all over.
The kiss soon degenerated into something sloppy, wet, and fervent. Rangiku pushed herself closer into your space, her tongue sliding deeper into your mouth with an eager, needy hunger that proved she had been thinking about this for a long time. Your hand left her hip, traveling slowly up the warm expanse of her ribs beneath the cotton shirt until your fingers cupped the weight of her bare breast. The supple flesh spilled over your fingers, and a loud, breathless moan tore from the back of Rangiku's throat, her body shuddering against yours. You made out for several minutes, the quiet comedy on the television drowned out by the sound of your tangled breathing and wet, gasping sighs, before you gripped her shoulders and pushed her flat back onto the mattress.
You lean down, pressing your lips back against hers, drinking in the quiet gasp that escapes her mouth. Rangiku’s hands come up to roam over your body, her warm palms tracing the curve of your waist before her fingers dig into the fabric of your pajama top for leverage. You break the kiss, dragging your lips down the smooth line of her jaw to press wet, bites onto the sensitive skin of her neck, right where her pulse jumps. A low hum vibrates deep in her throat as you work your way lower, shifting your weight between her thighs until your hand slides down her torso to find the waistband of the shorts you lent her.
Your thumb presses firm through the grey cotton, finding the exact spot where her arousal is already gathering into a hard, swollen nub. Rangiku’s hips jerk up against your hand, a sharp, involuntary twitch that betrays how ready she is.
You hold her down with the weight of your palm, a small smile brushing against her collarbone as you feel her breath hitch.
"Did you actually finish your work today, Matsumoto, or did you leave the captain stranded and run over here because you wanted to play with toys and sleep with me?"
Her chest rises high as she tries to find her voice in the quiet room. You trace a lazy, grinding circle with your thumb over the fabric, pressing directly into her heat.
"I actually helped this time," she pants, her blue eyes dark with as her fingers grip your shoulders. "I swear I did."
You let out a quiet, knowing hum, letting the disbelief hang in the air as you offer her an elusive smile. With a smooth drag of your hands, you hook your fingers into the elastic waistband of her shorts and pull them down her long legs, tossing them over the edge of the bed to leave her bare. Your eyes rake over her form in the glow of the lamp. Her trimmed pubic hair is a soft patch of strawberry blonde, a flawless match to the thick waves spread out across your pillows. The heat between her thighs is already glistening with a heavy sheen of slick moisture. You use your fingers to gently part her labia, exposing the wet pink flesh.
"Look at that," you murmur, staring at the sight as the fluid pools between her folds. "You're so pretty, Rangiku. Look how wet you are just from a little kissing."
She shifts on the sheets, her inner thighs clamping against your ribs as she tries to hide from your intense gaze. "Stop staring and stop teasing," she whines, her voice thick, eager, and entirely willing.
"Sorry," you whisper, though the amusement stays in your voice and you make no effort to hurry.
Instead of going down right away, you dip your index finger into the pool of her slickness, coating the digit before rubbing it slowly up and down her pussy, spreading her own moisture over her clit until she is slick from top to bottom. You watch her face twist, her lips parting as you toy with her. Only when she begins to roll her hips in a silent beg do you lean down, pressing a firm, lingering kiss to the soft flesh of her inner thigh. You slide your arm beneath her knee, lifting her leg high and locking your fingers into the meat of her thigh to hold her open.
You bring your tongue down to her center, licking upward in one long, deliberate stroke. Her folds spreads wide over your tongue. She tastes nice—a clean, salty tang mixed with the calm, cool essence. You open your mouth wide, gathering her sensitive clit between your lips, and suck.
A loud, ragged moan breaks from her, her back arching clear off the mattress. The sheer sensitivity of her body catches you off guard; for a woman with such a formidable military presence, her flesh responds to the slightest touch. Her long fingers reach down, threading into your long braids, her palm pressing against the back of your head to hold you close to her. You look up through your lashes, taking in the view of her face—her lips parted and swollen, her hair wild across your pillows. She looks breathtaking. You keep eating her out, taking your time with slow, heavy laps simply for your own enjoyment, listening to her shaky breaths echo in the dark space.
Rangiku’s voice gets louder, turning into a string of cries as her hips lift off the sheet, grinding her wet center straight against your mouth in a desperate search for more pressure.
You pull back just out of reach, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. "Which toy do you want first?"
She looks up at you with eyes bright and brimming with adoration, her gaze locked onto yours. "The rabbit," she gasps out.
"Open it," you command softly.
You keep your hand resting on her thigh, your thumb maintaining a steady, firm rub over her wet clit to keep her on the edge while her fumbling fingers strip the plastic packaging away. A dark rose flush steals across her pale cheeks, her gaze fixed on yours the entire time. Once the toy is free, you take it from her grip, clicking the power button until the motor wakes with a low, soft hum—the lowest setting. You bring the vibrating tip down, pressing it right onto her wet clit.
Her spine arches, her entire frame jolting against the mattress. A surprised laugh leaves your chest as her features twist with the sudden shock of the pleasure, her eyes rolling back. Down between her thighs, her tight opening is overflowing, leaking a steady stream of slick fluid that glistens against her skin as the rabbit works. Smiling, you slide two fingers deep into her slick heat, curling them upward to hook against her g-spot.
Rangiku shrieked against the pillows, her hips jerking wild as her internal muscles locked around your fingers like a vice.
"You're so tight, Rangiku," you murmur, leaning down so your breath hits her ear. "Relax for me. Don't cum yet. We’re going to take our time."
"Please," she whimpers, her hands dragging up to grip your forearms. "It's too much with the buzzing, just let me do it to you."
"No," you tell her, not letting her back out just to turn around and toy with you. "You said you wanted to try it, right?"
You hold her hips still with one hand, your fingers inside her slowing down into a torturous, deep 'come here' motion, stretching her walls while the vibrator keeps up its steady rumble against her clit. You talk her through every single sensation, keeping her balanced right on the brink of ruin. "You're so loud, Rangiku. Wet too. Feel how my fingers are stretching you out. Look down at my hand. Look at how easy it is. You can take it."
She lets out a broken whine, her head tossing from side to side as she forces herself to look down at where your hands join her flesh. Her pink folds are swollen, gripping your fingers tight. "I see it... god, it feels so good. Your fingers are s-so deep—ahhn-ghnm. The vibrator's—O-oh... let me cum, please, I can't hold it."
"You can hold it," you whisper back, your thumb pressing the vibrator a little harder against her while your fingers execute a sharp, cruel flick inside her. "You're doing so good, baby. Just a few more seconds. You can do that for me, yeah"?
"Yesss," She draws, making needy little noises in the back of her throat as she tries to follow your instructions, her internal walls pulsing and clamping around your hand in an effort to control the mounting pressure. You keep her there for several minutes, manual exploration combining with the steady buzz until her skin is hot to the touch and her breathing is a ragged mess of half-formed words.
Only when you feel her entire body go rigid with tension do you decide she's had enough. You reach down and click the button, kicking the vibrations up a notch, matching the rapid pulse with a fast, ruthless plunge of your fingers.
"Good girl. Now cum for me, Rangiku," you coax her, your voice a proud murmur against her skin.
With one violent heave of her hips, she breaks. Her internal walls clamp down around your fingers in a hard, crushing orgasm, her fluid soaking your hand as a loud, frantic string of cries tears from her throat. You don't stop moving. You keep your fingers pumping deep inside the tight squeeze of her climax, the rabbit maintaining its steady buzz against her clit while she rides out the aftershocks. Only when the pulsing slowly subsides do you slide your hand free, lifting your glistening fingers to your mouth to suck them clean right before her unraveled eyes.
Rangiku's thighs tremble, small tremors writhing through her legs. "Oh god," she breathes, her hand flying down to weakly grip your wrist to pull the toy away.
Instead of letting her find relief, you reach down and click the switch, ramping the vibrator up to its highest, most aggressive speed against her raw nerves. The harsh, loud buzz fills the quiet bedroom. Her grip on your wrist tightens into a panicked squeeze as the heavy vibration hits her overstimulated flesh.
"Do you want me to stop, Rangiku?"
She can't form a real response. She lets out a fractured whine, her body squirming in a vain effort to escape the intense, stimulation of the machine, yet her hips still tilt instinctively toward the touch. You cup her jaw in your hand, tilting her head up to press a firm kiss to her wet lips. She instantly tries to deepen the touch, her tongue searching for yours in a gamble for comfort, but you pull back just out of reach, a smile breaking on your face at the deep, pouty look that forms on her full lips.
"You need to talk to me," you murmur against her skin. "Tell me what you want."
Her blue eyes are dark, glassy, and completely unraveled by the pleasure. "Slower..." she gasps out, her voice a faint whisper as she pleads with you. "Please, drop it down."
You click the button, dropping the device back down to its lowest, gentlest hum. You lean down and lick her up with soothing, wet drags to cool the raw heat of her skin, before turning the power off and tossing the toy onto the sheets.
-
Rangiku rests her full weight in your lap, her bare back pressed flush against your chest as her frame trembles from the heat of the bedroom. The air is thick, holding the heavy scent of her jasmine perfume and the musk of her arousal. She keeps her legs draped over yours, her thighs spread wide to expose her slick center. With one hand, she clamps the Rose toy flat against her swollen clit, the soft silicone mouth pulsing with tight waves of air pressure. Your hand is wrapped firm around the base of the dildo, sliding the thick shaft deep into her wet channel in a slow, unwavering rhythm.
Both of your eyes are fixed on the view between her legs. You watch her drenched pussy stretch open, greedily swallowing the silicone before letting it slide out, only for you to plunge it right back in. Her cream is thick and off-white, bubbling around the base of the toy from the friction.
Your free hand slides up her ribcage, your fingers spreading wide over the wealth of her breast before you trap her hard nipple between your fingers, giving it a firm tug. Rangiku lets out a high whine, her head rolling back against your shoulder. Her appetite hasn't slowed down, even after three shattering orgasms.
"Look at how open you are for me," you murmur against her ear, your voice low and rough. "You're dripping all over my thighs, just taking every inch. Tell me how it feels inside you."
Rangiku shifts her weight, her hips attempting to grind back against your pelvis in a brief show of defiance. She tries to force a faster pace, eager to hunt her own release against your rhythm. "Feels r-really good," she pants, her voice a gravelly, ragged mess. "You're doing this on purpose. Pushing it in so deep and slow… until I can't even breathe. Go faster."
You tighten your grip on her hip, pinning her pelvis flat to prevent her from taking control of the stride. "Shh. No dictating the pace, Matsumoto," you murmur, your voice calm but absolute. "You're too demanding."
She lets out a frustrated huff but keeps her eyes glued to the slick junction of your bodies, watching the dildo slide home. You guide her through the overwhelming sensation, your thumb smoothing over her hip bone. "Hold the toy still, Rangiku. You keep begging for speed, but you can't even handle what you're already being given. You get a bit dumb after cumming so many times, hmm? It's okay, baby."
"You're mean," she whimpers, though her internal walls clamp down on the silicone shaft in a tight, desperate squeeze that completely betrays her words. Her chest heaves as she tries to follow your command, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "The Rose is buzzing too fast... I can't stay still for you."
"You can," you tell her, leaning forward to press a warm kiss to the side of her neck, right where her pulse thumps hard against your lips. "Be a good girl and stay still for me. It's better when it builds up."
The fluid strings between your flesh with every retreat, leaving a messy trail across your lap. The silence of the room is long gone, replaced by the sound of skin striking silicone and the steady hum of the toy. The cotton sheets beneath you are thoroughly ruined, soaked through with sweat and her previous releases.
Rangiku tilts her head back, her mouth open as she gasps for air. You lean across her jaw and catch her lips in a sloppy, deep kiss. Her tongue tangles with yours in a slick, wet slide that matches the motion of your hand below. She moans into your mouth, the sound growing louder, turning into a desperate vibration as her inner thighs begin to shake uncontrollably. Her internal muscles lock around the toy like a vice, tightening so hard your knuckles ache from holding the base.
"I'm gonna cum," she gasps into the kiss, her toes curling. "I'm going to squirt all over you, honeyy—"
Suddenly, a heavy, hot gush of fluid erupts from her. She squirts hard, the sheer pressure of the release trying to push the dildo straight out of her body. You don't let her escape the fullness. You lock your wrist, forcing the thick shaft forward, plunging deep into her core and fucking her right through the peak of her release. Rangiku screams into the kiss, her eyes rolling back as she curses through her teeth, her fingers digging deep into your thigh as she cries your name over and over into the dark room.
You gradually slow down, letting the dildo slide out with a soft, wet sound. You lean forward, pressing a tender kiss to her damp forehead. Her long waves are a wild, matted tangle around her face, and she looks undone, her blue eyes glassy and unfocused as she catches her breath.
"Flip over onto your stomach," you murmur, your fingers trailing down her stomach.
She blinks, looking a bit dazed by the sheer exhaustion of her climax, but she takes a breath and rolls over onto her chest, burying her face into the cover while keeping her ass tilted up toward you.
She lets out a muffled, breathless chuckle into the fabric. "This position is kind of embarrassing, you know. I'm a lieutenant, I should be aloud some dignity."
You get up on your knees behind her, your eyes raking over the gorgeous curve of her backside. "You'll like it like this."
A shiver ripples through her shoulders, her hips giving a small, eager wiggle of anticipation as you run the flat of your thumb over her drenched folds from behind. A wave of pure satisfaction washes over you, your own arousal spiking purely from the sight of her. You decide you're going to eat her pussy from behind until she's begging again, then you'll drive the dildo back into her, spending the rest of the night exploring where else that vibrator can make her scream.
