#finding your training voice

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

hope you feel better soon!

I am riddled with ailments, but I stay silly!

[annamblake]

Things We Should Refuse to Train Horses To Do

Things We Should Refuse to Train Horses To Do

Warning: Loudmouth Party Pooper Rant. I think we all know whose side I’m on in this horse training reality show. As an early holiday gift to my favorite four-legged friends, I thought I’d lob a few ideas to folks who actually like their horses. In a world where we normalize fear-based training, I hope to inspire a few rants in others. A disclaimer: On the off chance you think I am the spawn of…

[faaun]

Jack Marsh (2005), Friendship Otherwise - Toward a Levinasian Description of Personal Friendship

[uncanny-tranny]

Person whose gender was directed by Todd Howard and published by Bethesda

[artanogon]

thinking more about being trans

[violentdevotion]

wait do you have a fav boys character yet ?

i really like butcher but i feel like that's a basic answer and also the wrong answer. in another world id like frenchie but i can't get over how much i hate the actor. I love maeve theres never a moment she's on screen where im thinking get this woman outta here she's always entertaining to me. i like starlight but (and this is probably a bit nasty to say) there's smth a little uncanny valley about her sometimes where when she's talking im not listening but staring at her face trying to see what features throwing me off. I hate ashley but the actress played an insufferable character in jessica jones too and I really appreciate her ability to play The Most annoying woman you know.

centrist answer i like them all (except stormfront. hated her before i even knew she was a nazi. she was on insta live and i was waiting for her to explode and die) but my fave would have to be butcher bc i find im rooting for him the most and constantly justifying his actions. but sometimes karl urbans accent pisses me off. also black noir but he doesn't Do anything so it's hard to have him as a fave bc he's barely there.

[dismalzelenka]

.

[bandzboy]

i feel like discussing singing is more intricate and deep than some people make it seem because everyone is so different and their voices have different qualities to them because of genetics and how their body is and i think about this a lot about how... every voice is unique in their own way because it's not like an instrument it's something that comes with your body and so people just fail to realize these things when talking about vocals and singing

[setembro-the-wizard]

I respect you people but there is nothing that I dream less than working on the disney/cartoon network/dreamworks etc animation industry. Could not imagine that being my dream as a creator 😭 uh good luck to you tho

[nezuscribe]

gojo never imagined an arrange marriage with you, but now you’re all he can think about.

he thinks about you when he’s training, when he’s seated at his round table, when he’s in his bed, everywhere, every time, you’re all he can think about.

and you’re oblivious to it.

you heard the gossip everywhere you walked, about the girl gojo was pleading with his family to marry. how much he loved her, how beautiful she was, how much more elegant she was compared to you. you knew you were never his first choice, not even his fifth, but it hurt even more when everybody acknowledged it.

you stopped wearing your wedding ring, started acting like you were just another person there. luckily gojo didn’t seem to be in any hurry about making heirs, so pretending like you two were working things out didn’t even matter anymore.

you find yourself alone most of the time. your maids were kind and patient, but they had so many things to do throughout the day that you felt awful pestering them to walk around the estate with you.

eating dinners with gojo became normal, but most of your other meals were in silence, always feeling like a speck of dust in the large dining hall.

one day when you’re walking around aimlessly you stumble across the training grounds, the open space below you filled with men swinging wooden swords back and forth at each other.

it wasn’t difficult to find your husband, his white hair hard to miss in a crowd of others. he didn’t notice you watching from above, and so you stayed hidden, not knowing if the men were picky with who watched them.

he was swift and agile. everything he did was precise and with meaning. no wonder he was named the best warrior of the north.

you found this to be more entertaining than walking around the gardens for the tenth time or watching the cooks assemble the next meal, so you didn’t even notice how gojo looked up to see you, somehow slipping away without you knowing.

you were in a state of watching but not really thinking, almost jumping out of your skin when you heard his voice behind you.

“didn’t know i had an audience,”

you yelp, flinching as you look behind you to see your husband all sweaty, panting slightly as he moves his hair away from his face. you eye the stairs that led him up here, wondering how you could’ve missed that.

you laugh sheepishly, giving him an apologetic smile as you pick are your nails.

“i’m sorry,” you scratch behind your ears, feeling heat rise to your cheeks under his intense gaze. it’s unfair how pretty somebody can look, especially after training for an hour straight, “i was just walking around and i saw this.”

he waved it off, shaking his head as he leaned his sword on the wall.

“not a problem,” his eyes shine, “i just would’ve tried harder if i knew my wife was watching.”

my wife.

the words fall so smoothly from his lips you wonder how many times he’s said it before. with malice, hatred, necessity?

you smile a little bit, eyes crinkling around the edges as you look away briefly, not noticing the way gojo chased after your cheerful face.

“how’d you get up here? where are your ladies?” he asks suddenly, looking around at the fact that it was just you up here.

“my what?” you say, looking up at him through furrowed brows.

“you know,” he waves his arm around as if that would help, “you’re ladies in waiting,”

you scrunch up your nose a little bit, something he noticed you did when you were confused.

“oh, well, my maids are working right now,” you tell him, noting that he still didn’t look any less confused.

“no, not your maids, your ladies,” he tilts his head to the side, “the girls your family sent them up to help you around.”

you stare at him, unblinking.

“the girls that are your friends, the ones that help accustom you…” gojo trials off when he realizes he’s not getting anywhere with you.

you feel even more embarrassed than when he caught you watching him, hating the way you were clueless at yet another thing in this life that no one explained to you.

“the girls you hang around with?” he finally lands on, hoping this jogs your memory.

you shake your head, eyes wide as you fidget with the fabric of your dress. his eyes fall onto your finger, lingering on the fact that you’re not wearing your ring.

“who do you spend your time with throughout the day?” gojo seems even more lost than you. he’s seen you with…? well surely that one time…?

“by,” you swallow, embarrassed, “by myself. i walk around a lot.” you admit sheepishly.

“your family didn’t send…?” he answers his own question with his silence.

this entire time you’ve been alone?

he opens his mouth to speak but somebody beats him to it.

“satoru! get down here! we’re still not done!” his friends shouts from below, and you look over your shoulder to see all the men staring at the two of you.

gojo stares at you, unblinking.

“i,” he swallows but can’t find any words.

you can’t either.

he leaves you there, running down those stairs as he shouts at the other guys to resume what they were doing. that entire day he was off his balance because he kept looking up to see you there, but you weren’t.

maybe you were just walking around, like you said.

[fadingstrawberrynightmare]

i miss You already

[whiskeysorrows]

thinking about how historically women have had access to a vastly different type of speech than men (due to being denied education in rhetoric, literature, ect) and whether we're still seeing the effect of that in what we consider 'typical' male or female speech pattern and pitch since it's been proven that countries where there is more gender equality men and women have a lower range in pitch

[transed-my-gender]

turn around for me. good puppy. close your eyes, let me blindfold you. now stay. stay.

whistle - come here puppy. whistle - come here. you can do it, you can find me. just listen to my voice, come here. you look so concentrated and adorable. come. such a good puppy, just follow my voice. there you go. oh you’re all wet and ready aren’t you. grinding on my fingers like you can’t help yourself, with your legs shaking, you can hardly keep yourself up, poor thing.

i got a new toy for you, go find it. fetch. getting warmer, good puppy, go on. colder now. warmer, warmer, colder, warmer, burning hot, there you go. now bring it here. no no no, in your mouth. make it fit. now drop it. good puppy. show me how you’d play with it. don’t be shy, show me. oh it just slips right in. get it all in like we’ve trained. listen to you whine as you take that knot deeper into you. keep it all in.

whistle - come. oh no you don’t get to walk anymore so your toy doesn’t slip out. be good and get on all fours. look at you, all whiny and pathetic, crawling on the floor. you’d be bumping into furniture if it wasn’t for me. heel. sit. sit pretty. does it feel good when you sit on it? you poor thing you’re all wet, even your thighs are soaking. keep it in and open your mouth. such a good puppy deserves a treat

[sassyandclassy94]

Funny how a bad day makes you a whole lot less excited and more hesitant to return to work the next day…

[s0dium]

Needy

Pervert!Yuuta x Reader

Synopsis: Yuuta has avoided the touch of women for years due to having a homicidal jealous curse attached to him. Hell, he has even avoided touching himself. But something happens that makes him break

Warning: Male masturbation, pillow humping, edging, mentions of breeding, pining

Pt.2

~

Having a homicidal jealous curse attached to you 24/7 that threatens to murder any woman that comes close to you, changes a man.

In Yuuta's case that meant that sex was out of the question. In fact, everything involving the slightest bit of physical intimacy was out of the question. Handshake? Yuuta would rather not risk it. Hugging? Sure if you wanted to get your head chopped off. Even when Yuuta joined Jujutsu High and became able to control Rika better, his ways of avoiding women had already been so ingrained into him, that any kind of intimacy was just foreign to him.

This didn't mean the Yuuta didn't think about it. He even indulged in the small things, like replaying the sex scene in a movie or eying the women in Todo's magazines he would bring on occasion. But that wasn't enough to quell the thrumming in his head or the whisper in the back of his mind craving more. Yuuta truly thought he could ignore it all though, that is, until he met you.

At first, it was easy for him to treat you as nothing more than a friend, a classmate. He could ignore how peculiarly beautiful and kind you were. He could brush off how your witty remarks during tough missions always made him laugh, and how the light, airy giggles that escaped your mouth when Yuuta did something unintentionally funny made butterflies swarm in his stomach. Then summer rolled around, and you started wearing more revealing clothes—short skirts and tights instead of long pants, which were apparently "easier to train in" you told him.

And it was only when you innocently bent over to pick something up one afternoon, when Yuuta accidentally caught a glimpse of your white underwear that dug into the fat of your plump butt, that the dam finally broke. When you turned around to bashfully apologize for accidentally flashing him, Yuuta was already gone. Unbeknownst to you, he had fled to his dorm room, struggling to hide his painfully hard dick in his pants.

Yuuta barely makes it to his bed before he is pulling down his black uniform pants and wrapping a shaky hand around his thick cock. He's not an idiot, he knows how to jack off, but there is something different right now. When in the past the few times he touched himself was to quickly get rid of arousal, now Yuuta finds himself yearning for something more.

He slowly drags his hand down his shaft and the satisfaction is immediate: just one stroke sent electric flesh arrows of pleasure through his entire body. The pleasure is mind-numbing, and just a taste of it has him yearning for more.

“Oh fuh-“ Yuuta's voice comes out breathless. He screws his eyes shut and darts a tongue across his lips to wet them. Almost immediately his mind wonders back to you, how delicious your ass looked, how beautiful you are, how beautiful you would be with your lips wrapped around his dick. How would your breasts feel in his palm? What would your face look like if he tweaked and sucked on your nipples? God, what would your pussy feel like.

Pap pap. Yuuta was starting to create a semi fast rhythm, white precum collecting in the spaces of his fingers as he furiously glided his tight grip up and down his dick. He doesn't just want to think about you; he wants to obsess over you. He doesn't just want to feel pleasure; he wants to drown in it. No, he wants to drown in you.

He's practically panting right now imaging himself inside you. If he felt good right now, how good would the real thing be? Oh he bet the squeeze around his dick would be delicious, he can practically hear you whining his name. Yuuta's legs trembled as his hand gilded over his overstimulated red tip and down to his heavy balls. Jesus this was good, so good, he needed more, Yuuta needed more friction because god if he couldn't have your pussy right now he at least needed to pretend.

Through heavy pleasure-filled lidded eyes, he glanced to the pillow next time him.

He was becoming greedy.

Fuck it.

Without much of a thought, Yuuta grabbed the pillow, folded it in half, laid on his side, hastily put his dick between the white cloth, and started to thrust. The friction is delicious. It makes his toes curl and desperately thrusts his hips into the soft pillow.

“Mmmm,  mmm mhm” he whimpers. Your name is on the tip of his tongue, but he can barely speak so much as think. There’s a tingly warm feeling building in his stomach, the pleasure is overtaking him. What would you think if you could see him like this? Would you call him a pervert or maybe would you help him? Oh, what a dream that would be, your soft hands wrapped around him, oh he bet that you could make him feel better than this pillow ever could.

“Ah-Ah Y/n please….” The thought of you is consuming him, you don’t know it but you are giving him the best pleasure he has ever experienced in his life. Yuutas thrusts are becoming frantic, desperate, he could taste his release on the tip of his tongue. His black hair is starting to stick to his forehead from the sweat and he realized he should have taken off his white uniform coat because it was getting so hot. He was so close, so close to cumming, he hates how this pillow isnt you, isn't your pussy, after this, he promises to himself that he won't ignore you or your beauty anymore, he’ll obsess over you, kiss the ground you walk on, he’ll take care of you so good and -and oh, oh my god, he wants to breed you, fill you with cum-

“Ah-ahhh~”

Yuuta’s hips stutter into the pillow and thick ropes of cum coat the fabric. The pleasure makes his legs and mind go numb and he’s left panting, whimpering from the after shocks.

No, after this Yuuta will never avoid you again.

[cavillscurls]

be my baby | logan howlett x f!reader

summary: logan fucks you in your sundress. warnings/tags: MDNI. this is literally porn. basically no correct lore/lore whatsoever. old man!logan. unspecified age gap. soft daddy!dom logan. sub!reader. daddy kink. dd/lg undertones. pet names (bub, baby, little girl). cockwarming. biting. some manhandling. riding. a smidgen of ass play. a smidgen of innocence kink. size kink. unprotected piv. one (1) spank. creampie. breeding kink. barely proofread. wc: 1.6k

He likes to keep you full. Satisfied. 

There is no stress, no lines of fear or concern painted across your pretty little face when he has you plugged full of his cock. He likes to watch them disappear, like magic, rolling off you in blissful waves when you sink yourself down him and breathe that glorious sigh of reprieve. 

His pretty girl, his perfect girl, who deserves to be a little mindless at the hands of the man who will bear the weight of her worries for her. 

“Eyes on me, bub.” His strong fingers cradle your jaw, tilting it towards him. “There you go, that’s a good little girl. Keep ‘em here.” 

He knew today would be one of those days. When you needed him a little more than usual, in ways others would fail to understand. He saw it the minute he laid eyes on you; the pout of your lips, the downturn of your brows, they called to him from across the room and stirred every instinct inside of him. 

Hours later, he’s finally got you alone, straddled over his thighs on the couch with his cock nestled deep inside of you. The hem of your pretty little dress hiked over the swell of your bare ass, the straps slipping down your shoulders, revealing the slopes of your neck and the swell of your breasts to him. He’s already sunk his teeth into the flesh, marking you, a reminder for all those around you that you already belong to someone. 

Your eyes, which find him on his command, are half-lidded. Dazed, nearly as wet as your lips that you keep biting every time the tip of him kisses your cervix. What were once slick, heavy bounces of your cunt up and down his shaft have now turned into desperate, wavering grinds of your hips. Your thighs tremble, having lost momentum, and your skin is sheen with sweat from the exertion of riding him. 

“Daddy,” you croak, and he knows it’s only a matter of time before he’s putty in your hands. He can’t resist, not when you talk to him like this—fucked out eyes brimming with tears and the sweetest little voice, a siren's song. “C-can’t anymore… need help.” 

He’s been a little mean, having you work for it. But he wants to tire you out, get you good and loose so he can have you completely brainless. Entirely at his disposal. Then, he’ll make you come as many times as it takes until you forget what made your day so troublesome to begin with. 

His massive hands on your hips have remained relatively still, save for the way his calloused fingers dig into the plush of your ass every now and then, spreading your cheeks wide to feel the stretch of your cunt around him, tips just barely teasing the puckered little hole hiding there. He wants to overwhelm your senses; the big breadth of his chest against your body, the intimacy of his touch, the familiar scent of tobacco and leather. It’s dizzying, and he knows it. 

“You need help, baby?” he reiterates, a bit patronizing. You nod dumbly, still desperately trying to chase your high by rocking your hips. He feels you clench every time your clit rubs up against the hair at the base of his cock, shivering above him. The hand on your jaw doesn’t relent, but he lets his thumb slip over your lips, grinning triumphantly when you immediately part them and suck it into your mouth. He's trained you well.

“You gonna keep those eyes open if Daddy helps you? Let him see ‘em when you come?” he asks you, arching a stern brow. You nod again, a bit more eager, moaning a high-pitched promise of mmhm around his thumb. 

He’d be lying if he said he isn’t getting impatient himself. You’ve been sitting here for nearly an hour, and he had not even allowed you to move for the first twenty minutes he filled you. He likes to take his time with you. Break you down bit by bit until you’re malleable, until you beg. The sweet sound of it now breaks a bit of him, too, and he can’t ignore the building urge to brand you on the inside as well as he’s done outside.

“Alright, baby,” he acquiesces, pulling his hands off your face and finding your hips underneath your dress again. “Hold on to me.” 

You obey, wrapping your arms eagerly around his neck, tits pushed up and spilling out of your neckline against his chest. His eyes do a once over of the predicament you’re in, and he knows he’s a bad, bad man for enjoying this sight of you as much as he does. Sweet, young thing drooling around his cock, too impatient to even get your dress fully off of you—he wouldn’t have let you, anyway, content at the vision of pretty floral details and bows while the rest of you succumbed to corruption. 

Once he’s got you balanced in the palms of his hands, he doesn’t give you the opportunity to adjust before he’s lifting you off his cock only to slam you right back down it. You gasp, nails digging into his shoulders, and he sets his ceaseless pace. Flesh slaps against flesh when his hips begin to piston up off the cushions, meeting your bouncing body that he manipulates with ease. 

Your jaw unhinges, and he takes in the sight with pride. A rag doll of his choosing, only to be played with by him and him alone. The thought makes him growl, and his lips lean forward to capture one of your bouncing breasts, wrapping around the peaked nipple and sucking it into his mouth. He can feel the pour of nectar stick between your thighs, coating his and the couch below. Eventually, he grows restless, releasing your hips to wrap the entirety of his wingspan around your torso, flushing you taut against his chest with nowhere else to go as he uses your sweet, dripping pussy to his hearts content. 

The sounds of your hiccups and moans do little to drown out the obscene echos of squelching flesh and slapping skin. You do your best to keep your forehead pressed against his, but he takes note of the way your eyes begin to roll in tandem with your fluttering pussy. 

He unravels one of his arms, only long enough to give your ass a firm smack. You yelp and your eyes fly back open, trembling fingers clinging to his hair. 

“On me,” he grits, your only reminder before returning to his punishing pace. 

He knows you’re close when he feels your toes curl against his thigh, when your nails dig into his scalp a bit painful, and your cunt suffocates him. 

“Daddy,” you call again, garbled and hardly intelligible this time. A string of DaddyDaddyDaddy’s follow, and your breath begins to hitch in your throat, like there’s not enough air to keep you breathing. He’s stolen it from you, taken it for himself in hopes of leaving you wanting. 

He’s right there with you, brows pulled in concentration when he feels the familiar clench of his lower abdomen. The tingle that spreads throughout his thighs and pulses through his cock that’s molded to the shape of you. 

“Tell Daddy when you’re coming,” he commands, leaning up to steal your lips in a wet kiss and muttering against them: “Tell him so he knows when to fill this pussy up. That’s what you want, right baby? Want Daddy to fill you up real nice?” 

You try to tell him yes, but it comes out warped, high-pitched, and on the verge of breaking. It’s not even seconds later that you tell him you’re coming, repeating it over and over and over again until he can feel it happening. You squeeze him like a vice, his personal pocket of unmatched pleasure, pulsing and milking around him. You keep your eyes on him, like the good girl you are, though your lashes flutter and falter with the rest of your body that convulses in his stronghold. 

And he can’t help himself, can’t even starve off the buildup for a moment longer, and he's rearing forward, burying his face into the crook of your neck. Tickling the sweaty skin there with his beard before sinking his teeth into it again. He needs it to muffle the roaring groan that rumbles through his chest, to ground him as his cock begins to twitch and swell inside of you, borderline animalistic in the way his fingers bruise into your ribcage when he spills inside of you. 

He doesn’t stop his thrusts, though they grow shallow and slow. He huffs with each spurt of his release, the growing sensitivity weakening him. But he is bound to it, the pleasure you pull from him. No amount of dominance could diminish that. 

Eventually, the world stills. His breath comes back to him, his senses clear, but he does not move. Does not unfold you from him, nor make any effort to slip away. He listens to the sound of your breathing, quick and sporadic then slowing, shaky and deep. He kisses your hot temples, releases his paws from your flesh, and uses them to soothe up and down the length of your spine. He lets you slump against him, nuzzle up into his chest, body limp and satiated. 

He’ll have you sit like this, full of him, for another while, he thinks. Maybe even until you fall asleep, until the shape of him is built within you, until every last drop of his seed has the chance to be inside of you. 

Maybe this time, it’ll finally take. 

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