@exorciseandconsume.bsky.social He gave the man a nod as he entered, ensuring his posture was straight and his hands firmly placed behind his back. “Good evening, Sir.”

These writers keep writing what they write. 「 #MVRP #SDVRP #OpenRP No Minors Allowed Literate & Detailed 」

"𝕮𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖇𝖊𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖔𝖓, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖜𝖗𝖆𝖙𝖍." ― 𝖂𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖎𝖆𝖒 𝕾𝖍𝖆𝖐𝖊𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖊, 𝕶𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝕷𝖊𝖆𝖗. •Military Special Operations. •Prime Minister of Vyria. •Centuries Old Vampire. -Open to all, friendly to all. -Communicative -MDNI #OCRP • #MVRP • #WoDRP

J is a wandering knight who moves from town to town, seeking out evil and helping those who need it. They also have a severe weakness to cock, ass, feet, and pretty much any seduction! This is a Rp account that's Multiverse friendly! If anyone needs a hand, J is happy to help!

@kypriosprince.bsky.social A large wooden crate had been delivered to Aphrodite. Stamped on the side, under his name, it simply said ‘Live Stock’. Would he open it?

♥ ఇ 𓂺 ҈ && ⠀ ⠀⠀ 𝓢oຕᥱtɩຕᥱ⳽ ⠀ ⠀⠀ 𝑙 𝜎 𝜈 𝜀 &&&& ⠀ ⠀⠀ 𝑐 𝘩 𝛼 𝜎 𝑠 ɯǝǝs ₗᵢₖₑ ⓣ🄷ⓔ 🅢🅰🅜🅴 𒈦𒀂𒐕𒐖𒋝 #pjorp #godsschoolrp #bloodofzeusrp #mythrp #greekgodsrp #kaosrp #lewdrp #nsfwrp #gayrp #queerrp #mlmrp #openrp #opendms #freerol #sexrol #romangodsrp

He looked down at his feet, knowing Scott was right: he *would* be good on the football team. But… “I’m not allowed to play sports… It’s a distraction from serving my master.”

@alandofmyown.bsky.social Samson and his father were twenty days into their journey back to Egypt. They’d come east on their camel, hoping to make good profits on new and unusual spices from the trading hub in smaller villages and towns, but were returning not much richer than they’d left. They +

"To get him out of trouble? Or to own him yourself?" he snarled. What was the bar customer doing, Samson worried, but kept his posture straight and his face as free of panic as he could.

"What?" the master snapped, his crooked yellow teeth showing as he snarled. Samson was even more confused, as his master tightened his grip on him, and the bar's customer bore his eyes into his.

Samson's jaw locked tight as his master turned and gazed up at him, running his hands up and down his bicep. "Was the customer bothering you, my pet?" The slave shook his head. He didn't want any trouble.

Suddenly, a gruff older man came stomping from within the building to behind the bar, planting himself next to Samson, placing a possessive hand on his arm. "What's this your spouting? About 'fairness'?" he asked, demanding rather than inquisitive.

"Some dancers came and performed that kind of dance - with fans - at one of Master Potiphar's dinners. I thought it was beautiful."

"I'm awful at dancing," he said with a chuckle. "Ain't nothing graceful about this body of mine. But I love to watch people dancing."

Samson cocked his eyebrow, intrigued more than ever by the mysterious figure. "No need to be sorry. If you ain't good with people, I'm sure there's lots of other things you *are* good at."

"No," he said with a shake of his head, leaning down to the burlpa sack with the planks. "I'm here to get this job done for you. Then I can get out of your hair, like you want me to." He didn't mean it cruelly. He had simply read Tomio's coldness... his awkwardness as a wish to be rid of Samson.

"Aye, sir. No point wasting what little time I have." He took a friendly step towards Tomio, closing the gap between them. "And that's why I should get to tending to your wood, isn't it?"

He chuckled. "I certainly seem to smile more than other people who have their own free will..." He was teasing. Sure, sometimes he was made to do things he'd rather not do. But Tomio claimed to be able to do whatever he wanted, and yet he didn't seem very happy at all.

He shrugged. "As I say, not a lot I can do about it."

"Don't have much choice in the matter... What's the point in grumbling? What do you do that's so much better than working hard and being rewarded for it?"

"Yes," he said plainly. "I'm a slave. Is that a problem?"

"In food and a place to sleep, sure," he said, nose wrinkling.

"My Ma was sold when I was in her belly, so yeah. I was born in service," he said, lightly, without any pity for himself.

"Master Potiphar says I'm mature because I've been working hard for so many years... Says it's one of the things he admires about me.'

“Older than me,” he grinned. “I’m only 22, so you've lived more life than me. Guess that’s why I was drawn to help you.” He would make jokes that Tomio *was* old, but he guessed that wouldn’t go down well with the man who wore a cloak of seriousness.

"I love old things," Samson said with an easy smile, allowing himself a moment to rest before laying down the new floor boards. "So much history; so many stories."

He nodded, wiping his brow. “ ’fraid so, sir,” he said. “But it’ll be a great entryway once I’ve got the new boards done. Some of this wood looks hundreds of years old!”

The rot had spread further than Tomio would have seen with a quick glance, and Samson had to pull up at least sixteen floor boards. It was sweaty work, and he soon had a healthy gleam on his broad, bare chest.

“Pleasure!” he said, getting to work straight away, pulling out the hammer and using the end to yank up the rotten boards.

"Oh no, sir! I couldn't ask that of you when you're paying for a service. You put your feet up and I'll have this done in no time."

"My Master asks ten gold pieces per hour of my services," he said, looking up from the bottom of the steps. "But I understand if that's too dear for you..."

Samson walked merrily towards Tomio's home. If there were any warnings or messages in the hokora, Samson was oblivious to them. Teaching a slave to read had never been anyone's idea of a sensible use of their time. "It's so peaceful here," he said, awed as he took in the serenity of the woods.

He followed a step or two behind Tomio and shrugged his broad shoulders. "I'm not interested in any of that... I only want to be popular for my good character, not any superficial thing like looks." And, he added silently, that he wasn't allowed to stray from his master. Not in matters of romance.

He nodded. "Got nails, a hammer and enough timber to cover an entire floor if needed. The girls on the stalls... they didn't charge me anything," he said, a blush rising to his cheeks.

His cheeks bunched up, smiling to receive praise from the man. "Thank you! I'm sure you have strength in other facets... I'm all muscle sure, but I've got as soft a heart as any man has ever had. Bet you carry yourself with more... fortitude."

"Got it all," he said with a big smile, carrying a large, weighty sack over his shoulder.

He put up a hand to stop Tomio. "You don't like the busy crowds. I'll sort it. Leave it with me." And before he could be stopped, he dashed back into the heart of the market to gather the goods he needed.

⛧ ─── ⋆⋅🥀⋅⋆ ─── ⛧ ❝Is this what's left of me? Debilitated life— look back and see nothing but my self wasted. ⠀ Is this what's left of me? What’s left will be destroyed. Is it ever ending, my self-hatred?❞ ⛧ ─── ⋆⋅🪦⋅⋆ ─── ⛧

Samson nodded as he scratched the back of his head. "And... why would people want to do that? Change things?"

“Revolution? What’s one of those when it’s at home?” he asked, completely innocently. Such concepts hadn’t made it to him, or most people in the town.

𝓣𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓲𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓸 𝓯𝓮𝓪𝓻, 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓕𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓱𝓲𝓶𝓼𝓮𝓵𝓯.”

"You're all in for a SHOCKER! HAHAHAHAHA! I'm so funny..."

"Thank you, sir," he said, stepping back into the bar. "Not all men are so willing to keep a slave's secrets from his owner. You're a good 'un."

“It’s on me,” he said with an easy smile, before leaning closer to Alistair over the bar and whispering, “Just don’t tell my Master.”

"Certainly, sir," he said with an affable ease, taking the glass and filling it with foamy beer from the keg. "My name's Samson, by the way," he said, sliding the beer across the bar to the well dressed traveller.

He nodded. "Well, don't let me distract you from your peaceful relaxation. Let me sort you a drink, then I'll get out of your hair. Beer, wine, or beer?"

"That you certainly do, sir," he said, reaching his impressive, muscular arm up to get a glass. "Travelling alone?"

"You're not from round here, are you?" he asked with a small chuckle. "Up here in the mountains, we've got beer, wine or... beer. Nothing classy a dapper man like you might be accustomed to, I'm afraid.

"No, sir, no need to come back later! We're very open now," he said with a big, dumb smile. "It's just quiet here in the daytime, whilst most folk are working. What can I get for you, mister?"