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#training.
gildedmuse · 1 year
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Zoro-san, I love you so much! I would love to know what kind of things you are interested in!
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Training.
Sake.
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pigeonsplayground · 2 years
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Prompt idea!: CNC breeding where it’s a dom and his “Bunny”? I love the pet name and the concept of being dehumanized into a creature known for breeding. “You have to be horny for me Bunny, it’s just in your nature”
Have fun!!
Word count: 1,239. consensual nonconsent and kidnapping fantasy ^-^
i am once again thanking you for your patience in me publishing this!! folks, our friend waited at least a month for this, so give them a hand. i wanted to give a quality product <3
if you like my work, please consider tipping!
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Freedom is a burden, bunny. You should be glad I took it from you.
your head, arms, eyelids are heavy. you can barely keep your head up let alone focus on anything but the words drift through your head. everything is bright, floaty, and delicious. there is something soft against your skin, something sweet and enticing in the air. you feel this desire to giggle, to laugh at the fact that you can’t see properly. it’s kind of funny, actually, that you don’t know where you are. so silly, how did you end up here?
you had been having a funny, sort of sexy dream. it had involved a bar, a funny drink, a length of smooth rope, and the hum of a car engine in the dark. there had been flashes of sexy things— deft caresses by strong hands, a musky cologne— intermingled in a way that confused you. the dream hadn’t been a typical wet dream, but your body reacted like it was. just thinking about it, electricity thrummed across your skin and instinctively you ground down into the carpet to relieve some of the tension
Good bunny.
you blush and squirm a little more, although a cold spot of doubt trickles into your mind. the voice is low and slow and lovely to listen to, but it’s unfamiliar and it makes the situation even more strange. your mind reminds you: you should not be enjoying this. you should be scared. but your tummy swoops hotly and your cunt throbs and you grind down again to quell the feeling
That’s it sweet thing. That’s it. Are you feeling horny, little bunny? Of course you are. It’s just in your nature isn’t it? I knew from the moment I saw you.
your vision swims as a face appears immediately before you, kind eyes and a warm smile blur together in pleasant disorientation. you feel their hands— strong, calloused, hot, confident— drag down the length of your torso before dipping between your thighs. a frustrated groan breaks the tense quiet and you feel their fingers circle your clit— hot, tingling, pulsing, throbbing— before pushing easily inside you. your moan sounds drunk to your own ears and you can’t help but lean into their caresses eagerly, chasing the pleasure.
Fuck, what a good girl
their voice— that voice— sounds approving when they sigh and swear under their breath. you could get drunk on that voice. you could— you would be willing to do several things to hear them say that again.
Thats fucking right, you’re my good girl. I’ve got you now and you can surrender to your instincts. And maybe I can teach you a couple tricks
~~~~~
Okay bunny, we’re gonna try out all that training of yours.
you’re on your knees, arms restrained above you with a spreader bar and some chains. something clicks above you and your hands fall heavily with the sudden slack, catching you from falling face-forward. the position pushes your breasts together and their gaze caresses you appreciatively. you whimper in embarrassment as warmth floods your body
Perfect position, pet. On your hands and knees, just like a little rabbit. So small and soft and scared, they mock. Just like we practiced, hm?
your eyes don’t leave them. your heart hammers in your chest and you try to ignore the slick feeling between your legs, growing wetter under their intense attention. it’s easier this way, to get it right the first time. every failure means a period of conditioning that just fucks with your brain, using coerced pleasure to reinforce their control over you. claiming ownership over your body while you orgasm and reminding you how much you want them
it’s much harder to keep things straight during those days, so you do your best to do as you’re told. if you’re going to be forced into this depraved captivity, you want to keep your wits about you. you stare up at them obediently, do your best to make eye contact when you can, and follow their instructions like a good pet. you shiver, and the reaction to that thought alone reminds you how precarious your self control is.
their mouth is forming a command, and you scramble to hear them quickly. the words sink into your brain slowly, and you only just comprehend by the third time they tell you.
Open your mouth, you stupid slut
the words finally click and you hesitate for only a moment, but it’s already taken too long. the hand connects with your cheek just as your lips part, a hot and sudden sting. Too slow. the hand, hot from the impact, grabs your jaw and forces your lips open. their dick, hard and leaking, slides neatly into your half-open mouth, and you gag as you feel the head pop into your throat.
God, is that so fucking hard? You would think a slutty bunny like you would know what to do when you’re on your knees, but that’s just too much thinking for you huh? Well you’ve got something in that head of yours now, don’t ya? they say as they look down at you
their hand cradles the back of your neck gently before twisting in your hair and pulling tight, moving your head like a fleshlight as they rapidly chase their release. they trace their fingers along the bulge in your throat with their other hand, growling as you gag.
I guess we need to keep working on the training to get you to respond quickly enough. You should know what to do from the second I say “open.”
their orgasm hits suddenly and they hold you down on their dick, ignoring you as you gag and try to lean back. they step forward to close the gap, pushing as deeply into your throat as possible as they cum. if you tried to pull back again, you’d only fall backwards. they’d likely fuck your mouth again right there, pressed into the floor, fucking their cum deeper into your throat
~~~~
Open up.
the click and the command come at the same time. you bounce into position on your knees, mouth open and wet
Good girl.
you smile and preen, nudging upwards in position but hoping for pets. they chuckle and caress your ears softly, toying with the soft fabric. their cock bounces in front of your face and you find yourself fixated on it, drooling slightly because of your open mouth. they stroke it teasingly in front of your face and you salivate watching the precum at the tip. they grab you under the chin and tip your face upwards, slapping their cock against your tongue before sliding it smoothly into your throat. the vibrator inside you picks up at the same moment and you pulse forward, gagging on it
they pull it out and slap it against your tongue again, commenting on how wet it is while you look up at them sweetly. they chuckle with controlled triumph and push your face into the floor, ignoring you while you whine and then yelp
Good. Now. Your new command to learn is mount. Shut up, you can take it can't you? That's right, you can take it. You're my perfect little breeding bunny. You can take it.
~~~
maybe it's not so bad? you barely remember what life used to be like and it all feels so good. why would a bunny want to be anywhere else?
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slayier · 2 years
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REQUISITES  :    MUST BE CONFIRMED TO BE A POTENTIAL  or  ACTIVE SLAYER
❛   KNOWLEDGE IS HALF THE BATTLE.   ❜      a slayer is meant to be taught the basics of demonology ,   magic ,   and vampiric history especially.   with access to a watcher’s full library of texts ,   kendra is nearly an expert in what’s known about standard monsters  &  magical history.   
it should be noted that this information was largely outdated by the time kendra was fifteen and became an active slayer.
❛   FLAWLESS VICTORY.   ❜      in addition to the innate instinct to fight inside of them ,  a slayer is trained more extensively to kill vampires and defend herself.   living in a relatively remote village ,   kendra grew used to using the darkness and shrouds around to her advantage.   she’s arguably most threatening in the area of stealth when it’s available to her.
kendra’s specifically ruthless teaching led to her becoming a black belt in krav maga by the time she was around ten years old ,   having fought in this style mainly since she was almost five years old.    kendra has had consistent and harsh training from the age of four to until she left jamaica at sixteen.    she was taught how to kill with the following weaponry incorporated :
wooden stakes ,   polearms  (  staffs  ) ,    nunchucks ,   morningstars ,   bladed weapons  (  spears ,  daggers ,  swords  ) ,  small hand crossbows ,   &   longbows.
it’s essential to note that kendra is trained this way before her enhanced abilities come in as a slayer. by the time she has the super  /  extra strength,  she was already trained to the best she could be. the easy part was having the kick of demonic essence on top of the skills.
kendra was never taught to hold back.    monsters had no nuance ,  no humanity to treat them as such.    her technique is canonically flawless ,  making her a seemingly perfect slayer.     this is also her problem :    if you know what you’re looking at ,   you know exactly where an opening is with her.    there’s no real room for improvisation in her style.  though she does move with fluidity and a certain exact grace ,   she’s a direct brawler at heart.   she’ll make the first strike and maybe if it doesn’t injure you ,   who knows?   you could get lucky.
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ceevee5 · 7 months
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viridianriver · 4 months
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Hell yeah the US just gave like 8 billion dollars in funding to intercity passenger rail. Including some HIGH SPEED RAIL?!?!?!??
can't overstate how massive this is, i used to work in rail and US trains were so pitifully underfunded that my employer wouldn't even bid on those projects because it wasn't worth the time. This is actually putting us on the level of other countries that invest in transportation as a public service??? And 8 billion? Like this could actually really make some massive change.
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snippit-crickit · 3 months
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Perfectly normal train running to greet you cmon give it a hug (FYI, its this guy i drew half a year ago and i still think about it)
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fluentisonus · 4 months
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trains will announce you're stopping in places you never knew existed
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radicalgraff · 5 months
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"Stop bombing Gaza"
Train graffiti in Rome
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tmmyhug · 6 months
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has anyone heard of Cozy in bed…lifechanging
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auckie · 21 days
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https://x.com/MorePerfectUS/status/1765391777580912958?s=20
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PLEASE GD IF YOU LOVE AND WANT TRAINS
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elierlick · 1 month
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I can't believe DC just went with it.
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pigeonsplayground · 2 years
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a bunny sub taking too long to learn the command "open up" and being trained to wear a ring gag in increasingly long intervals so their throat is always available
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hamletthedane · 2 months
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I was meeting a client at a famous museum’s lounge for lunch (fancy, I know) and had an hour to kill afterwards so I joined the first random docent tour I could find. The woman who took us around was a great-grandmother from the Bronx “back when that was nothing to brag about” and she was doing a talk on alternative mediums within art.
What I thought that meant: telling us about unique sculpture materials and paint mixtures.
What that actually meant: an 84yo woman gingerly holding a beautifully beaded and embroidered dress (apparently from Ukraine and at least 200 years old) and, with tears in her eyes, showing how each individual thread was spun by hand and weaved into place on a cottage floor loom, with bright blue silk embroidery thread and hand-blown beads intricately piercing the work of other labor for days upon days, as the labor of a dozen talented people came together to make something so beautiful for a village girl’s wedding day.
What it also meant: in 1948, a young girl lived in a cramped tenement-like third floor apartment in Manhattan, with a father who had just joined them after not having been allowed to escape through Poland with his pregnant wife nine years earlier. She sits in her father’s lap and watches with wide, quiet eyes as her mother’s deft hands fly across fabric with bright blue silk thread (echoing hands from over a century years earlier). Thread that her mother had salvaged from white embroidery scraps at the tailor’s shop where she worked and spent the last few days carefully dying in the kitchen sink and drying on the roof.
The dress is in the traditional Hungarian fashion and is folded across her mother’s lap: her mother doesn’t had a pattern, but she doesn’t need one to make her daughter’s dress for the fifth grade dance. The dress would end up differing significantly from the pure white, petticoated first communion dresses worn by her daughter’s majority-Catholic classmates, but the young girl would love it all the more for its uniqueness and bright blue thread.
And now, that same young girl (and maybe also the villager from 19th century Ukraine) stands in front of us, trying not to clutch the old fabric too hard as her voice shakes with the emotion of all the love and humanity that is poured into the labor of art. The village girl and the girl in the Bronx were very different people: different centuries, different religions, different ages, and different continents. But the love in the stitches and beads on their dresses was the same. And she tells us that when we look at the labor of art, we don’t just see the work to create that piece - we see the labor of our own creations and the creations of others for us, and the value in something so seemingly frivolous.
But, maybe more importantly, she says that we only admire this piece in a museum because it happened to survive the love of the wearer and those who owned it afterwards, but there have been quite literally billions of small, quiet works of art in billions of small, quiet homes all over the world, for millennia. That your grandmother’s quilt is used as a picnic blanket just as Van Gogh’s works hung in his poor friends’ hallways. That your father’s hand-painted model plane sets are displayed in your parents’ livingroom as Grecian vases are displayed in museums. That your older sister’s engineering drawings in a steady, fine-lined hand are akin to Da Vinci’s scribbles of flying machines.
I don’t think there’s any dramatic conclusions to be drawn from these thoughts - they’ve been echoed by thousands of other people across the centuries. However, if you ever feel bad for spending all of your time sewing, knitting, drawing, building lego sets, or whatever else - especially if you feel like you have to somehow monetize or show off your work online to justify your labor - please know that there’s an 84yo museum docent in the Bronx who would cry simply at the thought of you spending so much effort to quietly create something that’s beautiful to you.
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guooey · 1 year
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kikokuso · 8 months
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I have a new favourite batshit rail idea
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Please build it for the funny please please please
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animentality · 8 months
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