#I try to keep my stuff from AI

[twilight-deviant]

I really don't know what happened, I was absent for two days and didn't open the archive website and what a surprise when I browsed it yesterday I didn't find any of your novels there 😢☹️💔, knowing that they were there before, I don't know if the problem is with the archive or with you or there are some updates from you or from the archive, I don't know if I'm the only one who doesn't have your novels on the archive or if it happened to some of your followers, although also when I click on the ao3 pinned at the beginning of your page here on tumblr also there is nothing related to you, it's sad for me because I didn't read all of your writings on ao3 💔☹️ but I don't know what happened, I don't know what to say I'm very upset about yesterday 😢, I hope that if there were malfunctions that they can be fixed, and thank you for taking the time to read this long message. Have a nice day ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

I'm sorry! My works are still very much on AO3, but they are locked and only visible to users logged in with an account. This is my unfortunate reaction to AI data scrapers stealing fic for their stupid generative AI.

I wish there were a way to have my wishes respected while NOT cutting off my works to people who want to read them. (┬┬﹏┬┬)

I mentioned it a little in this reblog post and added a line to my AO3 profile, but I could have announced it a little better. Whoops. (Can't believe my account is 14-years-old with an ID number still in the 5-digits. lol.)

I may roll back this decision eventually, given the overall futility of trying to keep anything from scrapers in the midst of this AI bubble, but either way, I would definitely recommend making an account on AO3. ♥ If you can't sign up automatically, I have invite codes.

[pa-pa-plasma]

okay i just marathoned the entirety of ATLA live action & i might do an actual review of it explaining my thoughts more in depth, but the TLDR version basically boils down to this:

if you want to watch Avatar: The Last Airbender, just go watch the 2005 cartoon

[sefynarose]



[phagodyke]

weekend melancholy is starting to kick in >~<

[keeps-ache]

sigh. alright

[harbours-lighthouse]

“I actually want to die a little bit.” 

The words slip past your lips before you can catch them, and you immediately snap your head to where your boyfriend is lounging on the couch. 

Jason’s head tilts to the side, one arm bent behind his head, the other keeping his phone perched on his chest. His brows raise, and you purse your lips into a thin line. 

“I did that...once,” Jason says slowly, and you can’t help the quirk of your mouth as he inches himself upright. He keeps his eyes trained on you, seafoam blue twinkling in the dim light of the apartment. 

“I did that…an’ let me tell you, sweetheart…” 

Now you really can’t keep the smile from stretching across your face.

“It was not enjoyable.” 

You huff out a sigh. “Yeah—okay. I’m sorry. You went through that and—” 

“I was cold.” 

“I know, I’m so—” 

“And alone.” 

“Jason—” 

“And miserable—” 

“Shhh,” you cross the space between you and him, leaning down to press your hand against his mouth. The smile on your face is huge and exasperated, and Jason blinks at you while you inhale a laugh-riddled breath.

“You’re terrible, you know that?” you murmur, tilting your head. 

Jason’s eyes glance upright to the ceiling, as if he’s thinking, and your face falls into a deadpan expression as he nods his head curtly.

“Terrible, Jason. Terrible.” 

You can feel the stretch of his lips against your hand as he grins, and the coy and boyish gleam in his eyes has you shaking your head. 

“I’ll try and stop saying stuff like that—EW! Did you just lick my hand!?”

Thank you for reading, God bless!

tags: @kitkatlover015 © harbours-lighthouse 2025 / i do not give permission for my work to be reposted, translated, or fed into ai. all works belong to me unless stated otherwise.

[robobarbie]

I turned 30 today!!! Happy birthday to ME!!!! Here's a picture of me with the guy I've been dating. He's kinda like a mix of Toasty and Quest -- a glorious combo.

It's been a while since I posted here, so I figured a 30th birthday is the perfect time for a short little reflective post. Can't believe I'm older than all the BP LIs now -- crazy stuff!!!!

Anyway. Here's some things I recommend from experiences in my 20s.

1. Try therapy

As y'all know, I've pulled back from a lot of stuff online. I've been going through a bit of a life reset since 2022, but it started really getting better when I finally ripped the bandaid off and started therapy in 2023. It wasn't an easy start, but it's helped me actually address bad habits within myself that I thought (incorrectly) I was dealing with well on my own. It's freeing. It's humbling. It's made me excited for what's ahead.

2. Exercise

I started working out seriously in my mid-20s and went through waves of how active I was. But when I was active, I saw a noticeable difference in my mood and energy, especially when it came to managing my misophonia. It's not a cure-all, but it is a great boost that helps me through each week. I focus on weight training and love it for the challenge 💪 do whatever feels best to you!

3. Accept not being "the best"

Like many of you, I grew up pretty smart and that led to a lot of feelings of personal failure if I fucked up in even the smallest ways that made me look "lesser" (non-perfect scores on tests, failing to understand concepts my coworkers got easily, etc). This even used to bleed into game dev, where suddenly a lot of people looked up to me after BP. Learning to let go of that pressure was freeing. I am not a figure on a mountain top -- I am just me.

4. Keep your hobbies fun

I hated game dev for a while because of things like in #3. It became something I had to do to maintain some arbitrary status instead of something I did for fun. It was hard to recognize that in myself and correct it, but I'm glad I did. So, sorry Adonia AI is taking longer than I thought, but I am simply loving life too much rn!!!! And I love game dev again too, which is the best realization of all.

5. Spend time with people

It gets harder to make close friends as you get older. People get busy. Life gets hectic. You get tired. But making the effort to spend time with people is important. Study after study shows that the healthiest and happiest people as they age are those who have good bonds with other people. And I can definitely feel that.

-----------

Love y'all. Stay healthy and stay safe 💚

[loonybun]

quick important post. this isn’t my usual type of stuff but im putting this out here for awareness.

there’s someone in the whump community who’s recently been gaining some traction. their posts haven’t really gotten super popular but they have circulated a bit and keep popping up on my page. youve probably seen them yourself if you’re a member of this community.

I never really interacted with their content just because realism in whump art isn’t my personal cup of tea (obviously if it’s yours, that’s fine and keep doing your thing, that’s not what this post is about), but a friend of mine decided to look a little bit further into things. it turns out this user has a history of using ai for writing, and seems to have a pro-generative ai stance.

they also use ai for all of their “art” (screenshots from a friend). even after being made aware of the harm that ai does, they have said that they will continue to use it.

this has been pointed out before by a few other people in the community, but I wanted to make a post for more reach since a lot of bigger names in the community who have denounced ai have been spreading around this content without knowing.

i know i’m kind of preaching to the choir but generative ai should not be tolerated in a space like this. the whump community was founded by fanfiction writers— the same fanfiction writers who are having their work scraped for generative ai without their permission or knowledge. generative ai has done so much harm to fandom spaces this year alone, and with the recent scrape of ao3, we should be fighting harder against it. allowing this to remain unchecked in this community is dangerous.

that, combined with the real harm generative ai does, makes this very kind of content go against the fundamental beliefs and morals of the whump community. i know i can’t speak for the community as a whole, but i have not found a single member here who would knowingly endorse generative ai. it just feels incredibly shitty for this person to not even mention that this work is ai (except for the one post included above). with how much effort and emotion people put into their stories and art, using ai to try and replicate that comes off as just incredibly distasteful.

the forbes article linked above to water consumption and ai isn’t even the only example i can think of when it comes to the harm ai’s done. if the whole “destroying the planet”, and “scraping work from artists, writers, and animators without consent” wasn’t enough for you, then i honest to god don’t know what will be. maybe the many, many accounts of ai being used to allow people to spread child pornography and irl gore videos of horrific events? it’s not harmless. it’s immoral on a fundamental level. in a world where ai is being shoved into people’s faces left and right with the integration of it into basically every corner of the internet, i think i can speak for us all when i say we want to keep this corner ai-free.

ai does not belong in creative spaces, least of all the whump community.

[charliegyrth]

Hello from Charlie Gyrth!

A Brief Introduction (and Links!)

Hello, Tumblr! My name’s Charlie. I’ve been writing (and reading) gainer fiction for years, and I finally have the confidence to start posting. My goal is to publish one story or chapter every day for the rest of 2025.

Here’s what I have so far:

Long Stories:

Fat Passengers - 3 parts (ebook) Fat for a Day - 3 parts (ebook) Nightly Feedings - 4 parts (ebook) A Milkshake a Day - 4 parts (ebook) Adiposexual - 5 parts (ebook) My Former Best Friend - 5 parts (ebook) Go with the Flow - 9 parts (ebook) Fatter for the Wedding - 12 parts (ebook) Alex Gets Soft - 22 parts (ebook)

Short Stories:

You Peaked in High School Darren's Birthday Surprise Fattened by Donuts The Summer You Got Fat How to Be a Fat American How to Be an Alpha Big, Fat Crush on My Doctor King Kong and the Blob What Happened to the Hot Swimmer? Mukbang Mikey Getting Fat for TV Feeding You in Public Your Wonderful Boyfriend Cody Comes Back Fit to Fat to Fit: What Could Go Wrong? Fattened in a Hotel Chicken Shack Fatties One Pound a Week Fattening the Actor Fat Felix Tries Ozempic Unrecognizably Fat Fat Farm Boys Improving Myself Final Destination: Obesity Three Roommates Scooter Hangry Search History Back from the Oil Rig Good Memories Tiny Tim and Small Sam You Ruin Your Perfect Body Metabolism Blockers Sliding Doors, Changing Waistlines I Really Want You to Like Me Liam's Sweet Tooth Are You Happy? My Best Friend Comes Back The Writer's Retreat Halloween Before and After Marriage Body Mark Wears the Pants Two Fat Guys on a Blind Date Giving In (2 parts) Hey, Chubs! (2 parts) Fat Camp Reunion (2 parts) The Lottery Winner (2 parts) I'm Too Fat for My In-Laws (2 parts) Speedos (2 parts) Fat Blind Date (2 parts) The Hottest Guy in Town (2 parts)

And here’s a bit about me:

I love writing about positive, supportive male couples who embrace the joys of gaining, feeding, encouraging, stuffing, and belly play. I don’t write about force-feeding (unless it’s consensual) or revenge fattening. I read those kinds of stories sometimes, but as a writer, I want to explore the healthier sides to gaining.

I find fat beautiful, so I kind of get lost in describing it sometimes. I love the sheer variety of plus-sized body types, so I try to reflect that in my stories. Not every fat guy is destined to grow a big, round beer gut (although those are great, of course).

I typically stay away from magical plots or instant weight gain. That usually doesn’t do it for me.

I will never use AI in my writing. I like creating these stories myself. (I have a day job as a full-time writer/editor, so this stuff is sort of a release for me.)

I try to be realistic with how quickly my characters gain, but sometimes I get a little ahead of myself and stretch reality. Just go with it.

I've started to publish some of these stories as ebooks. They will always be available for free on Tumblr, but one of my goals in life is to make gainer fiction more accepted in the literary world. We need to get more of this stuff out there. I don't expect gainer fiction to ever become mainstream, but there's no reason why it isn't as mainstream as, say, werewolf shifter erotica or other niche subgenres.

Probably not important, but I'm a redhead, so if you're wondering why there's an overrepresentation of red-haired characters in my stories, now you know.

I’m a gainer in my personal life, but I’m terrible at it. I always get up to about 210 or so and then chicken out. These stories are a way to help me process some of those feelings so that I can eventually have the confidence to keep going. We’ll see. (196 as of today!)

And I think that’s about it. Thanks so much for checking out my Tumblr! And happy eating!

[catboybiologist]

Many billionaires in tech bros warn about the dangerous of AI. It's pretty obviously not because of any legitimate concern that AI will take over. But why do they keep saying stuff like this then? Why do we keep on having this still fear of some kind of singularity style event that leads to machine takeover?

The possibility of a self-sufficient AI taking over in our lifetimes is... Basically nothing, if I'm being honest. I'm not an expert by any means, I've used ai powered tools in my biology research, and I'm somewhat familiar with both the limits and possibility of what current models have to offer.

I'm starting to think that the reason why billionaires in particular try to prop this fear up is because it distracts from the actual danger of ai: the fact that billionaires and tech mega corporations have access to data, processing power, and proprietary algorithms to manipulate information on mass and control the flow of human behavior. To an extent, AI models are a black box. But the companies making them still have control over what inputs they receive for training and analysis, what kind of outputs they generate, and what they have access to. They're still code. Just some of the logic is built on statistics from large datasets instead of being manually coded.

The more billionaires make AI fear seem like a science fiction concept related to conciousness, the more they can absolve themselves in the eyes of public from this. The sheer scale of the large model statistics they're using, as well as the scope of surveillance that led to this point, are plain to see, and I think that the companies responsible are trying to play a big distraction game.

Hell, we can see this in the very use of the term artificial intelligence. Obviously, what we call artificial intelligence is nothing like science fiction style AI. Terms like large statistics, large models, and hell, even just machine learning are far less hyperbolic about what these models are actually doing.

I don't know if your average Middle class tech bro is actively perpetuating this same thing consciously, but I think the reason why it's such an attractive idea for them is because it subtly inflates their ego. By treating AI as a mystical act of the creation, as trending towards sapience or consciousness, if modern AI is just the infant form of something grand, they get to feel more important about their role in the course of society. Admitting the actual use and the actual power of current artificial intelligence means admitting to themselves that they have been a tool of mega corporations and billionaires, and that they are not actually a major player in human evolution. None of us are, but it's tech bro arrogance that insists they must be.

Do most tech bros think this way? Not really. Most are just complict neolibs that don't think too hard about the consequences of their actions. But for the subset that do actually think this way, this arrogance is pretty core to their thinking.

Obviously this isn't really something I can prove, this is just my suspicion from interacting with a fair number of techbros and people outside of CS alike.

[wandering-pirate]

Mouthwashing Crew Headcanon

The Crew has a Crush~

You, it's 🫵🏻

Captain Curly

You walk into the control room, and Curly’s full-on beefing with the ship’s voice assistant

Turns out, he programmed it to be more “human” for fun... welp, the AI's definitely having fun roasting the captain

“I’m the captain! You’re supposed to obey me!”

“Obey? Sir, you can’t even obey a map.”

You're struggling to keep it all together because Curly’s already TOMATO RED from embarrassment (and maybe from the fact that you’re watching)

He tries to play it cool, though

“This is just a glitch. Totally fixable.”

“Yes sir, I'm fixable. What’s not is your love life, tho.”

The crew knows he’s into you, and now even a literal system algorithm's joining in on the teasing

The man's not even surprise when the voice assistance turned a 180° on you and treated you like a queen... he ain't complaining tho

Nurse Anya

You came to the med bay for a papercut

You’re expecting, like, a band-aid or maybe some ointment, but what you got was a full medical intervention

“This could get infected. Let’s disinfect, bandage, and monitor it. For safety.”

“…It’s just a papercut.”

She keeps pulling out stuff from the cabinet:

Medical tape, okay so far

Gauze... a bit...much

Wait, is that... surgical gloves?

You’d think you crawled in with a gunshot wound

When she actually started treating your cut, she goes on a call mute, like she’s concentrating way too hard and you can't reach her

You catch her sneaking glances at you...cute

But what makes it more diabetically adorable is with both your slight accidental touches

She’s immediately short-circuiting, mumbling “sorry, does it hurt? wait, why would it hurt?? oh my gos--”

Girl is fighting for her life over brushing your sleeve while she's fully holding your hand with both hands

Meanwhile, Swansea’s strolling past the med bay, just shaking his head like, “Anya, just tell ‘em you like ‘em already."

Co-pilot Jimmy

You’re helping Jimmy with a minor maintenance task (he totally didn’t ask for your help; you just “showed up,” okay?)

He’s being his usual smug self, but you know he’s flustered because he keeps snapping at you for no reason

“Don’t touch that, you’ll mess it up."

“I literally haven’t even touched anything yet.”

“Well, don’t think about touching it either!”

He’s trying to show off and “teach” you, but keeps fumbling because you’re watching him too closely

The crew’s already onto him. Curly literally walked past once and muttered, “Subtle, Jimmy. Real subtle.”

“SHUT UP, CURLY.”

“…Do you want me to leave?”

“No! I mean--just stay over there. Quietly.”

He’s the human equivalent of a malfunctioning toaster, and it’s both annoying and adorable

Mechanic Swansea (Gruff Dad Energy™)

You pranked Swansea by hiding his tools, thinking he’ll just scowl and grumble like usual...huge, BIG mistake

This man plays chess while you’re playing checkers

The next day, everything you own is missing: Shoes? Gone

Favorite mug? Gone

Your bunk? Covered in engine parts

Swansea doesn’t even deny it, just smirks and chuckles, “Don’t start wars you can’t win, kid.”

But here’s the thing: later, you find your stuff neatly returned with a plate of snacks he definitely didn’t make (he asked Curly "what young'ins like these days" and got a canned latte from the vending machine)

He never forgets to remind you that he doesn't care... sure, Swans, the dad energy definitely NOT palpable

Daisuke (Your #1 Fanboy)

Daisuke decides to “help” you cook one day

By “help,” I mean he’s hyping you up like you’re Gordon Ramsey while also lowkey getting in your way

“Y/N, you’re amazing. Look at how you chop those veggies, Bob Ross for foodies. You should open a restauran- no, actually, you should open a chain.”

“...Dai, the stove's literally barbecuing your shirt."

He panics, trips over his own feet and in one catastrophic motion, takes down a pot of soup, a chair, and somehow a shelf that wasn’t even near him

The room is wrecked. But before anyone can process, he just shoots up from the floor, finger guns and grins “DON’T WORRY. THE SOUP'S FINE.”

At this point, you don’t even question when this whole fanclub started. Probably cause you're the only one slipping him some sweets every once in a while (you're aware of the man's sugar addiction)

Having a personal hype man is great, even if he’s one accident away from taking down the whole ship

The whole crew's in pure chaos. What have you done to them??

Jimmy’s crush is LOUD, flustered, dramatic and side-eyeing Curly and Anya when they're standing within a foot of your proximity

Curly’s out here showing his 'captain privileges', but one compliment and he’s short-circuiting, probably off to “check the crew” (aka scream into the void)

Anya? Combusting at the slightest thank-you for the snacks and meds and also avoiding eye contact like it’s a sport

And Daisuke? Man’s your 24/7 cheerleader, yelling “YOU’RE AMAZING!” at 6 AM while trailing you like a puppy. The rest of the crew’s this close to losing it ’cause he’s stealing their thunder

Everything's unfolding while both you and Swansea watch side by side

The man sighed and muttered something under his breath. He’s got the tiniest smirk, though

“Yeah, these idiots are on you now.”

[gladiatorcunt]

- MOTHERBOARD BIRDCAGE | XVI.

the machine masturbated and we had to take it or die

cw: kinktober prompt (dubcon) fem reader, takes place at the beginning of dune 1, fem reader, dark!paul, misogyny, allusions to collaring and bondage, implied mind control orgasms, cunnilingus, arranged marriage (reader and paul are the same age), slight degradation/dumbification, reader has an implied attraction to leto, implied overstimulation, teasing, paul talks about reader like she’s a literal meal, dead dove do not eat, unedited

please do not repost, translate, or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

The winter sun hangs heavy on Paul Atreides' head like a pale crown.

“You look radiant, my love.”

An exhalation, “Thank you, I am happy it pleases you.”

“I think it will always please me to drink in the sight of you for the rest of our lives, a crucial part of my every meal.”

His father smiles, pleased and amused, a saying that is learned behavior then. Leto Atreides studies your gait, dragging his weighing stare back to your neutral face as they yearn to drift lower, lower, lower.

The dawn marking your second decade of life flies in on wedding bells, the night sleeps restlessly on the Atreides’s ship to Arrakis.

You pace back and forth, now kept in a room in your in-laws stronghold on the sand planet. Your marriage bed is practically all that exists in the beige space, unassuming built in shelves on either side. What is a wife to do but drape herself over the golden sheets and sigh the days away, after all.

Paul has been very polite with you, smiling charmingly against your mouth during your chaste first kiss, keeping his touches brief and only from his fingertips to the small of your back. You would take a step away and you could practically feel his fingers splay out, yearning, the air crackling, but he always let his hands fall to his sides.

You smile at him when you can, in your own way, tense and barely there. You haven’t been married for 24 hours, and your husband is already off doing his duty. You try not to think about it, the reason for the Atreides to stay on Arrakis and your loneliness. Paul is someone you’ve known for as long you’ve been his wife, but you have no one else.

His mother is deeply complicated and his father… Paul told you it’s just better for you to stay away. So you have, wasting the hours away pacing, going over your outfit options with the new handmaids you selected, the rejects from the ones sent to be picked over by your mother in law. The loneliness has become unbearable, Paul visits when he has the time, brief kisses and barely there grasps of your elbow.

You can hardly be blamed for being at your wits end one night, huffing as you roll over in bed after your afternoon nap and sliding one of the pillows between your supple thighs. It’s where Paul rests his head for the few hours you share a bed as most married couples are meant to do, you can still smell the traces of sea vapor and cold tree bark that he left behind.

“Hah….” You softly moan, languidly rocking your hips, missing your clit entirely but you have been on the brink for so long that there is no need for direct stimulation.

Your cunt quickly wets the expensive golden fabric through your undergarments, and you allow yourself to imagine it’s a man’s thigh you’re grinding on. Your husband’s, pale but flushed pink and thickened with sinewy muscle, used to tensing up. You can’t say if you feel a great desire to turn these visions into reality, but the imaginary is safe, and safe is good. You cannot mess up smooshing an ordinary pillow against your weeping cunt.

You are used to arousal being shameful, everyone stuffs their fingers up their holes and goes through trial and error until they hurtle over the edge, and they’ll don their gowns to tell their juniors the horrors of sexual proclivity. You’ve never even fingered yourself, the most you’ve done is shyly slip a digit in and then yanked it out when you felt a dull burn.

If only your teachers and staff of your castle could see you now, dry humping your distant new husband’s pillow with no orgasm in sight. You sigh and sink your head into the remaining nest of pillows, lounging in the lazy pleasure that’s barely pleasure at all. Your eyes flutter shut, which turns out to be the pivotal moment of your marriage.

You feel him before you see him, a lanky hand gingerly slides over your wide hip into the dip, not halting your movements or guiding you, merely touching to touch.

Your eyes shoot open and you try to flinch but Paul hisses something quietly, a wave of calm washes over you but you still look over your shoulder to hesitantly meet his eyes. Paul grants you a small warm smile, rubbing circles into your hip with his thumb.

“I was planning to discuss this with you, but apparently you’ve taken matters into your own hands, my love.” He softly chuckles, bending down to peck the swell of your warm cheek.

His next words are whispered into your pores, his mouth so close that you feel the stitches sewing his skin to yours, “I know this has been a new experience for you, and you barely had time to get used to Caladan before you were whisked away here, but you have to know that I promise to be a loving husband.”

How can you be assured of that? If there is anyone to be wary of in this universe, you’ve been taught that it is one’s husband.

“Yes, well, can you at least…” You awkwardly trail off, pointedly gesturing to the pillow wedged between your thighs, he had not let you move since he had returned.

Paul's face transforms in genuine confusion, brow furrowing and eyes narrowing ever so slightly, then his eyes drift down to the pillow and he exhales an ‘ah’.

His grip tightens, the tips of his fingers form mini half craters in your flesh. “I don’t see the point in that, unless the way you’re clutching onto the thing for dear life causes you pain then it can remain where it is.”

You get swept up in the undercurrent warning. He’s right unfortunately, the pillow is too silken to bring you any discomfort, you are just too prideful and prone to embarrassment. From the glint in his eyes, this will be something he will help you work on until it’s a trait of a past you. You shyly meet his stoney gaze head on as you let your thighs relax, they slide down the pillow and settle on the plush bedding.

Paul leans over with interest, sliding his hands from your hip dips to caress your inner thighs. You automatically tense up and he tuts, fixing you with a cajoling look.

“Come on.” He coos, his fingers travel up your thighs to play with the tufts of hair peeking out from your underclothes. “How are a husband and wife meant to get to know each other if their bodies are uncharted territories? You don’t even speak to me.”

You sigh, relaxing your body so your husband can peruse it as he pleases. Paul leans down to get closer and gets a hold on your underwear, in an instant they’re torn away. You react with an aggravated exclamation, Paul smiles as he leans down to press a kiss to the center of the hair on your mound. Your breath hitches but you say nothing, frozen by the shock of what is supposed to be a perfectly natural moment between a married couple.

Paul drags his nose through your pubic hair, his tongue darts out for small licks every so often. You ball your hands into fists as he moves his mouth towards your swollen bud. When he finds it, he latches on and starts to suckle, smoothing his hands up and down your legs as if you’re nothing more than a frightened bull, a beastly thing that he tames and conquers.

“Refreshing.” He murmurs into your folds, his tongue leaves your clit to lick broad stripes before fucking inside your sloppy hole. “I could do this forever if my wife would let me.”

He would do it even if you kicked and screamed, but that’s neither here nor there. You don’t even need his powers to be open and willing this time, well, open enough. He has an acquired taste, little wives who ultimately bend to their husband’s will but act as if a spiked chain is around their neck.

The cool metal will become as warm as Arrakis’ sun in the blink of an eye.

You dig your nails into your palms, convinced you can barricade yourself against the pleasure through sheer will. Paul Atreides has never been one to succumb to your grievances, you’ll crumble to pieces under his influence, it could be a soft and slow thing if you act properly. He wants hearts to bloom in your irises, sparks of light forming a ring around your pupils, miniature collars.

You flail about for a moment and carve into the sheets with your heels, your skin so smooth you slip and lose your footing. Paul keeps watch from his vantage point between your thighs, lapping up the wetness pushed out by your body in the same way you’ve seen him sip his drinks. Slow, but purposeful, an act of seduction under the disguise of something truly mundane. He curls his tongue and it reminds you of a dance, you’re caught up in the whirlwind.

“I think…” He pants, nearly out of breath and he has not even been in your cunt for five minutes, “Your sweat should be bottled, I would spray it on my pillow and have the sweetest dreams.”

You don’t know what to say to that, Paul’s knack for muttering words that steal the breath from your lungs is another thing you’ve not grown used to.

“You fill me-” lick “-to the depths of my stomach.” lick

“Paul.” gasp, on the cusp of a nip to your inner thigh. “Husband.” gasp, this one is softer, your thigh gets a kiss now. “Let me- I can tend to you instead, you don’t have to do this.”

He laughs into your curls, and the tip of his nose glistens with you. His eyes are half lidded, more animal in heat than man. You’re truly too sweet for words, for the looming threat that is Paul Atreides. Desperate to perform your wifely duties, it’s much more bearable for you to degrade yourself by pleasing your husband than it is to imagine that what would truly please him would be burying his face in your beautiful cunt.

He doesn’t say any of this to you, however, because there are times when Paul prefers you just as on edge as you like to keep yourself. Your fingers twitch and slowly unfurl, but your growing hope that this strange torture will stop is dashed as Paul dives down to suck on your swollen bud. You’re surprised by how sensitive it is, how it twitches and throbs under his tongue’s attention.

Your fingers seek out the bed beneath you, begging for its help, trying to claw through the mattress itself. Paul’s fingers are digging into the meat of your thighs now, like you’re a piece of bread he can tear through to devour your innards. Your inexperience rears its head in a terribly embarrassing way, you don’t know where to look or how to push him away or how to fight against your body’s response. Your mind whispers that you want to card your shaky fingers through his hair, but you don’t, you do not.

If not because you’re determined to maintain the distance you share with Paul, then because he would enjoy it too much. He’s terrible, in a subtly sinister way, but he would drink up your every touch and scrap of affection like a parched tree.

“This cunt, it makes me sick. This hole… you’re so wet, my flower.” The syllables drip from his pink mouth like the drool that pools in your entrance. “You send me over the cliff into madness, ever since the first moment I saw you. My wife in everything but name, the missing vessel of my soul.”

Paul kitten licks your clit, tenderly raking his nails up and down your squirming legs. You act as if you can buck off your incoming orgasm like a wild horse, like your husband eating you out is a serpent wrapped around your sternum. Luckily, it’s in his DNA to tame unruly creatures, bring them to heel under his stern outstretched hand.

You mewl, a soft hearted creature at heart, practically purring, “Please.”

“Please, what? You know I’d be more than happy to give my wife whatever her heart desires. Have you forgotten my vows already? Maybe your brain is leaking out your cunt.” Paul inquires suggestively, he flattens his tongue over your hole and stills, the corners of his mouth hike up when you inevitably rock your hips against his face.

“I… why did you stop?” You don’t say that if he’s so desperate to meld your skin together then why is he ceasing his overbearing actions, but that might come across as disrespect, and Paul seems to enjoy disrespect because he can make you wish you had never been anything but the pet cleaning his feet.

A wife is not disrespectful, especially one that will soon become an even greater royal. You are blessed to have this life, as unwanted as it is, you could be a concubine, one of his father’s perhaps. Time will tell if you wish to belong to a different Atreides, but you are anchored to the present with every useless thrust your hips do.

“That’s alright, if you’ll only let me make you come by wearing yourself out, then I don’t mind. Be my quest, my love.” Paul chuckles, though it’s muffled in your folds.

You make him forget what time it is, what his next schedule will be and who he will have to navigate interacting with. History must be looking kindly on House Atreides once again, because you seem to be heading for a day wasted in bed after he’s done with you. It will be a great help to have a wife whose head is too high up in the clouds to place another cinder block on your already strenuous load.

He guesses Gurney and Duncan are right, being “pussy whipped” does exist. He can’t wait to come to meetings with his wife’s pleasure hanging off his body like the finest jewelry.

You speak again, your tone is irritated and breathless with anticipation, “D-dear. Please, husband, I feel strange, I know I’m doing it wrong. I’m sorry.”

That usually works, right? Husband’s like it when their Wife’s apologize when they believe they’re solely in the wrong. Paul seems to join them in that, nevermind that the only thing wrong you could ever do is place yourself as a separate being from him. Marriage is not for people who are content with being untethered to their lover, it’s for the howling monsters who imbed it at the center of their selves.

“Hm, that’s what I thought. This doesn’t have to be something you force yourself to endure, I can make you feel so good if you allow me.” He whispers and tightens his hold on your thighs, spreading them farther and diving back in for thirds, fourths, fifths, sixths, sevenths.

You moan louder than you thought yourself capable of, and Paul matches you with a deep one of his own that comes from the back of his throat. He slips his tongue back in your hole, his dark eyes keep watch so he can catalog every miniscule change in your expression to comb over like one of his precious digital logs. You are fire made into a humanoid being, searing curves climbing over the golden sheets like a flood of flame, your limbs searching out any reprieve from how irrevocably your lust penetrated your body.

Paul’s eyes flit towards the bundle of restraints in the corner of the room, not hidden from your line of sight, you’ve just stupidly never noticed them. You don’t notice the thought slithering around in your subconscious until it’s brought to the forefront. He opens his jaw as wide as he possibly can and does everything in his power to swallow you whole, thrusting his tongue in you until your previous self pools below your ass and wets his chin.

He would play with your clit like he’d rather take it and fidget with it when political matters get too stressful, but you arch your back as he goes to take his hands away from your thighs and his mind is made up for him. See? You really are shaping up to be an outstanding wife.

He curls his palms around the thickest part of them, pushing them apart until you whine at the slightest hint of a burn. Paul wants to show you that you can be split on more than just his cock.

You hear his voice in your head now, reverberating throughout the halls of your skill. It seems so hollow, like a bird’s, the whooshing sounds of his suggestions rattle your foundation.

A faint bundle of heat flutters in your cunt, from your clit to the precise tongue pistoning in and out of your loosening hole. Paul’s dark stare impales you into place, leaning on your elbows in this once cold marriage bed, all the trappings of luxury.

My beloved wife.

The wind fanning my flames just by existing.

You are so very dear to me, when you slump in defeat, when you laugh, when you think I’m not looking. I always am.

Gorgeous girl with a cunt most of my men would fall on their weapons to weep at your feet in hopes for a taste.

You’re so sleepy, so lax. Oh, I know. You can drift, my flower, I’ll be here, I’ll keep you anchored.

Your maids have been bored, I’ve noticed. They should be happy to change these sheets when I summon them tomorrow, life itself clutched in their hands.

Let go, my love, drench my tongue and my face, I want you to spray it so far your come coats the back of my throat. You never did give me a suitable wedding gift.

Your body assumes its own battle stance, locked up tight right before your spine feels like it’s been snapped by an invisible force. Your orgasm burns its way out of you, but you choke on how cooling it is at the same time. You’re lost to him, too out of it to be able to tell how you adorned your husband. You feel drying wet skin nuzzling between your thighs, you hear sheets being rustled in your mind as Paul blows steady air onto your clit.

Your fingers find their way through his brown almost-tresses as the small licks start again, rekindling.

[dark-l-angel]

dude they're fucking back. the person who started this whole ai stuff

I'm tired of getting embarrassed from people's actions ya know?

"ai list part 2?" SERIOUSLY BITCH?! SERIOUSLY??? Go fuck urself pls.. I'm tired of everything. Thankfully her bullshit doesn't bother me, but it affects my reputation among my followers.. let alone the other writers, some of these writers are minors, and others are dealing with mental or physical health issues. A few were already in a really fragile place, and this kind of shitty public shaming and harassment has pushed some of them into dangerous, even suicidal, mental states.

These accusations have caused massive waves of hate. People jumped on the bandwagon and went after those writers, tearing them apart online. This goes beyond just FUCKIN calling someone out. It’s a damn targeted harassment. It’s creating a fucking toxic, unsafe ass environment. It’s encouraging others to pile on and attack people who are just trying to write, create, and simply exist.

The most thing that got my nerves out was that this bitch had an acc where this whole thing started but it either got deleted or taken down. Now they’ve come back with a NEW DAMN ACCOUNT and are continuing the same hurtful behavior instead of stopping.

That's the bad thing. Knowing that I and the writers didn't do any wrong while this girl keep moaning like a New York City whore gets my shit out.. so cringe.

Tbh it's been 2 days since I did my surgery, and the complications are giving me enough to deal with, I don't think that I have the energy to deal with these childish acts.

@vintagedressesanddaydreams you're a bitch, pls grow up while I'm asking you politely, cuz girl if I decided to come after you.. oh trust me, you flicked a match thinking you’d watch me flare. But you lit a forest. And damn know it’s coming for everything.

[laceyhearts]

౨ৎ MY SHIRT, YOUR SHIRT, OUR SHIRT, WHATEVER ; PAIGE BUECKERS !

➪ summary: paige gets back to connecticut from the national championship, making her way to her girlfriend without a second thought. and when she sees her (trying) to order a shirt, she scolds her, saying she could have hers

➪ pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

➪ warnings: none, not proofread per usual

➪ word count: 0.6k

➪ emma's notes: in honor of the one nonnie asking me to get this reuploaded (i was not going to complain!) thank you guys for the love on this fic - i know it was a favorite of my p fics on the old blog

© laceyhearts ; do not copy, repost, translate, or put my work through ai generators. do not copy or remake my themes, graphics, or layouts.

It was late when Paige knocked on her door, exhausted to the brim, but her lips were still pulled up into that wide smile of hers that made her giggle at just the thought of it. 

Y/n had woken up from the sound, stumbling over to open it and immediately matching her grin, pulling her into a hug, “You did it.”

Paige couldn’t help but smile wider at her soft words, dropping her belongings and wrapping her arms around her torso, grip tight as ever. She buried her head in her shoulder, and y/n could feel the fabric of her shirt dampen, her hand coming up to run through her hair to calm her. 

“I’m so proud of you, you did amazing, not just tonight. The whole year, the past five years. I couldn’t be any prouder, P.”

She stayed silent for moments after her small speech, relishing the fact that she was in y/n’s arms and she was in hers. This was her safe space; she was her safe space. Winning the championship felt great, but celebrating it with her felt even better. 

When she finally pulled away, her hands cupped her cheeks, bringing her into a kiss, grinning at the small gasp she let out. Y/n’s hands slipped to her hips, resting comfortably against them, gripping her sweatshirt. 

Paige’s forehead rested against hers, staring at her with the happiest expression she had ever seen on her face, causing y/n to replicate it on hers. 

“I’m so happy.”

“I can tell. Congratulations, champion.” She flicked the brim of her hat, and it flew off from the force, exposing her messy hair and glasses. “Don’t you look adorable?”

Paige blushed at her teasing, her head immediately going back into the crook of her neck, hiding the redness. All y/n could do was laugh, dragging her inside and kicking her stuff in with her foot, shutting the door behind her.

She collapsed on the bed, watching as Paige changed into clothes that didn’t smell like sweat and the airport. Y/n pulled out her phone, scrolling through Fanatics to buy herself a shirt, she hadn’t been able to do it beforehand, too busy texting her congratulations to the team and talking with Paige. 

Paige crawled into her bed behind her, her arms finding their place around her middle, pulling her  flush against her and resting her forehead on her shoulder, “What’re you doing?”

“Just some shopping.” Her hand came up to scratch at her scalp, Paige sighing contentedly at her actions. 

She lifted her head just enough to get a peek at her phone, eyes narrowing at all the apparel that had ‘National Champions Huskies’ written across them. She rolled her eyes, arms tightening around her, “If you wanted a shirt, you could’ve just asked to wear mine.”

She turned around so she was facing her, poking her cheek softly, “That’s your shirt, P. I wanted my own.”

“Yeah, but you know how much I like it when you wear my shirts.” It was y/n’s turn to blush, her cheeks heating up as she stared at her. “As soon as I wash it, you’re wearing it, yeah?”

“Fine. But I’m still gonna get my own.” 

She tutted softly, reaching for her phone and pulling it out of her grasp, “No. My shirt is your shirt, it’s our shirt.”

She let out a tiny scoff but was unable to keep the smile off her face, “Whatever.”

“C’mon, sleep time. I’m sleepy.” 

Y/n softened, nodding her head and allowing her to pull her closer, her head resting against her chest, and Paige’s head resting against hers. She fell asleep quickly, the lingering sleepiness from before taking over her. 

And just before she fell asleep, Paige ordered her a shirt of her own, one that matched hers, because who was she not to get her what she wanted?

PB5 MASTERLIST ; WNBA MASTERLIST ; OTHER MASTERLISTS

JOIN THE TAGLIST ; MY NAVIGATION

[clawsonpaws]

Tips for closeted littles from a closeted little

Diapers: period pads (get the overnight ones) or period underwear, they might not work superrrr well but they’re worth a try

Paci: chewlry, lollipops, baby bottle pops, push pops, I’ve seen lollipops that look like pacis before, your thumb✨

Sippy cups/bottles: cute water bottles with straws

Clothes: adult onesies, most pajamas are super cuteee, cute clothes in general no one will question you since it’s a style

Bed?: I personally roll up blankets and put them on the side of my bed not by the wall and it makes me feel like I’m in a sorta crib

If you have a way to go to a convenience store and pay without parents knowing, they will most likely have baby products, make sure to buy some big things too if they ask

Ask a friend you’re comfortable with to buy something little for you if they’re able to

Kids games on any device really, if you’re superrrr concerned you can delete them after playing them

Swaddle yourself in a blanket it’s super cozy and you can pretend you’re a ghost!!

No one questions stuffies!!! You can play pretend with them when you’re alone :3

Baths! Just say you wanna relax and you can have super fun bubble baths!

Listen to lullabies with headphones on

Mac and cheese, yoggies (they are like little balls of yogurt covered strawberries and they make me feel so little), Cheerios, cheez its, goldfish, fruit snacks

For me, cups that are super big so they make me seem small while holding them

Always use little spoons/forks

Ask parents to cut up meat when given to you (my mom does it all the time:3)

Juice boxes/caprisuns never get questioned

Bracelets make me feel little, I dunno about anyone else

Watch kids shows (no one EVER questions Bluey)

Fictional caregivers (either make an imaginary one or make head cannons of a character!!)

Character ai has fictional caregivers you can talk to, plus you can make ais of them if there isn’t any

Find old baby/toddler stuff (for some reason a lot of people have them in their closet) and say you’re keeping them for nostalgia

If you have a parter tell them the little names you like as petnames they can call you

Coloring books never get questions

Get a journal that you can write little things in or draw in when regressed

HELLO KITTY, need I say more?

Cute socks!!

Weighted blankies

Oversized everything

Truck or treat as long as you can

If you cosplay cosplay as a child

Sensory items

Those hoodies that look like puppies

Bright colors on things you can (if they don’t make you overstimulated)

The tiny backpacks

You can use graphic novels as picture books!!

Bento boxes make me feel like I’m having a little lunch

If you can use straws when you drink from a cup and not a bottle

Oversized sweater and shorts (no pants nation!!>:3)

Sorry if it’s bad I came up with everything while writing it!!

Good luck to all my other littles love y’all <3 (platonically)

[gremlin-girly]

Double Crochet

Bob Reynolds x gn!reader

Not beta'd and I don't give permission for my work to be reposted, copied, translated or put through an AI machine.

Tags/warnings: just fluff, cuddling, mentions of a first kiss

Summary: After bumping into you at the store, you teach Bob how to crochet.

word count: 1.3k

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

Bob Reynolds Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Pick Your Fic

Double knit. Chenille. Alpine.

Wool. Wool. Wool.

Too many choices, too many projects, too little time. You're stood staring at the wall of Wool trying to remember what you actually went to the store for. Was it wool? Probably not. You already had too much in your room at the tower that you were surprised you didn't have wool coming out of your ears. What started as an innocent hobby had become your hoard - a dragon's next of fluffy comfort you had yet to spin into something worthwhile.

How many granny squares did you need for a jumper? What about that pattern you started two months ago?

You grimace to yourself. No. You didn't need more.

...but then again.

Your fingers brush the baby-soft chenille thoughtfully. Something could be made from this. Easily. It's a beige - easily manipulated into an animal of some kind. Probably. Or there's an electric blue that could be a potential... thing.

"Hey, Y/N."

You almost launch the ball of wool you're holding at Bob out of fright. He had a nasty habit of appearing out of thin air, and you weren't sure if it was a by-product of the shadowy Void or his quiet mouse-like nature.

Mouse.

"Hey, Bob." You try to sound cheery but your brain is busy trying to remember if you have any patterns for mice plushies. "Wasn't expecting to bump into you here."

"I just wanted some snacks." He jingles his crisps in his hands and eyes the wool your cradling curiously. "You knit?"

"Oh, uh, no I crochet." You wiggle the wool between your hands. "I was meant to come in here for something else and got distracted."

"You crochet? That's so cool!" Bob's face lights up with the sweetest, infectious smile that has you melting to the floor like ice cream on a hot day. "What do you make? Could... Could you... show... me?"

His voice tapers with his usual shy, self-consciousness and you can't find it in your heart to tell him no.

"I don't have any pictures of my recent stuff." You half admit, not wanting to give away the fact you haven't picked up a hook in months. "But when we get back to the tower I can show you?"

"Sure!"

Having Bob look upon your creations felt strangely intimate. He handled each one like it was made of glass, cooing and gushing over your plushies and patterns on granny squares.

"They're so cute. How do you do it?" He looks impressed and intrigued behind his smile; it's genuine interest in your hobby and it makes you giddy.

"Um, well you can find patterns and tutorials online." You say, digging your toes into your rug and twisting your ankle shyly. You were a hair's breadth away from blushing and twirling your hair like a cartoon bunny.

"Could you teach me?" His blue eyes are irritatingly round sweet and you find yourself struggling to say no. You don't even want to think about the kicked-puppy look he would shoot you with if you turned him down.

Thus, you were resigned to nod your head and gulp out a: "Sure."

Bob is surprisingly quick to learn the basics. You sit close to him and run through basic stitches, demonstrating them and praising him when it finally clicks for him. It was worth every moment spent to see his tongue poke out in concentration when he follows your instructions and his face light up with joy when he successfully completed a stitch. Over the course of two days, you're practically joined at the hip, chatting and crocheting side by side but when a new mission demands a few days of your time you offer Bob free reign of your wool stash.

You help him pick out some patterns from your archive to help him practice and keep him busy while you're away and urge him to keep you updated on his progress and to ask any questions he might have. Not that any come - Bob almost ignores all of your texts and you can't help but feel a little affronted; like you'd done something wrong somehow.

Downtime during your mission is spent crocheting your plushie mouse. You'd decided when you started teaching Bob to crochet you would make it for him as a gift, doubly so now that you thought you'd upset him somehow.

The final touches were done minutes before the quinjet touched down on the roof and you were already speeding off and ignoring Bucky's summons for a debrief so you could find Bob, give him your gift and apologise for upsetting him somehow.

Entering through the doors and turning your first corner, you slam right into Bob, making your search rather short.

"Bob!"

"Y/N!"

You both go quiet, smiling sheepishly, and you see he's got his arms behind his back. You hold up your mouse plushie, feeling your cheeks grow warm and you can't quite meet his eyes.

"I made this for you. I'm sorry if I upset you recently, what ever I did I-"

"You didn't upset me!" He cuts you off, pulling a plushie of his own from behind his back. It's a little wonky, the eyes don't match up and there's a few holes from missed stitches but...

It's the cutest damn bunny you've ever seen.

"I was just focused on making you this... abomination." He chuckles slightly, holding the bunny in his hands like it's a cursed object and your heart has a pitter patter to rival an excited heavy metal drummer.

"I love him!" You squeal, making Bob look up.

"Really?"

"Yes!" You hold out your mouse to swap him for the bunny and Bob takes it with a grin, running his fingers over the soft wool.

"I'm going to call him Fred." You announce, holding the bunny comically high over your head like he was Simba.

"Fred?" Bob's nose scrunches in disbelief despite his smiling. "What should I call mine?"

"You can rename yours, if you want... I've been calling him Bob Junior for a while." You smile sheepishly as Bob blinks at you.

"Junior? After me?"

"Duh after you." You roll your eyes playfully but you chest feels tighter than before. "I was making him for you and it just kinda stuck."

Bob's cheeks are bright red now, and he brings the gift you made closer to his chest. "No that's... No, I like it too."

Later that night (after Bucky finally caught you and dragged you back for a debrief) whilst watching a movie in your room, you and Bob placed your double-crochet creations next to eachother on the bedside table.

"They look perfect together." You say cosying up under your comforter. Bob nods but says nothing so you continue unperturbed. "They look like they're holding hands too!"

You're pulled back suddenly into a firm chest and let out a small squeak. Bob immediately apologises when you look up and looks like he's about to combust on the spot.

"Sorry! I - erm..." He gives you a sheepish look. "They look like they're cuddling and I thought that we..."

He swallows thickly and his eyes flit around your room nervously. That pitter patter in your heart returns and you smile, sidling up closer to him instead. Bob stiffens then relaxes, letting his arm drape around you - even if he is still shaking like a chihuahua.

"If you wanted life to imitate art, you should have just said so." You tease softly, laying your head on the space inbetween his neck and shoulder.

That night marks the beginning of many more in his arms, sometimes crocheting, sometimes watching a movie, always chatting. What you and Bob have builds slowly, and whilst you ruin your first kiss by covering the eyes of your plushies, he doesn't seem to care. Your love took practice and even though it may be a little misshapen like Fred, it was still beautiful.

End

A/N: if you haven't seen this post, @buckyys-babydoll and I are trying to boost engagement across fics in the writing community. If you liked this fic, please reblog - you dont have to leave a comment. You can leave a reaction image, gif or emoji(s)!

Support writers. Support artists. Support the fandom.

Love ya! 🫶🏻

Taglist - add yourself here

@looking1016 @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @almostglitterybear @blackhawkfanatic @peaches1958 @purplefluffycows @ryubyy @steviebbboi @leeemabean @brianochka