#his prostrate has been stimulated...

[rubdown]

[hazelfoureyes]

Research

Bee’s Lucifer/Hazbin AU on Twitter got me so riled up for Raphael. So… go check out her posts and what has happened to Angel Luci and then read this little research trip.

「Warnings/Promises: Raphael x Angel Luci, pussy and cock in mouth at the same time baby, blowjob, adorable Luci, tingles, tachycardia, dangers of being locked out of heaven」

minors I will portal you to a boring pocket dimension if you interact

Angel Anatomy by _LuLuLamb on Twitter! Go to her page to see Raphael and Angel Luci so you can better enjoy this smut!

Sneaking away from heaven was simple enough, because no one paid attention to anything in heaven that wasn’t immediately self-serving. Raphael gone? Probably holed up adding notes to his notes or something redundant.

When Luci had reached out to him in a tizzy, he felt compelled to atleast check out the poor angel. Not to mention the research implications, if what the panicked peach’s messages implied rang true.

He had plenty of theories on the subject of angelic sexual intercourse but no evidence. Which was immensely frustrating. 

Luci was remarkably naked when Raphael portaled into their rendezvous spot. It seemed the deflowered angel couldn’t return to heaven, so a pocket dimension was the second best place. 

“You could have been dressed for this.” Raphael set his bag down.

“Raph!” Tears welled in those big blues, “It hasn’t felt right since—,” a deep golden blush lit Luci’s face.

Since—?

Raphael waited for Luci to finish the sentence but the smaller angel just buried his face in his hands and spread his legs. 

The doctor’s lip was drawn into a bite, nothing happening was remotely close to protocol. With a sigh and a practiced pinch to the bridge of his nose he knelt between the trembling knees. 

“I’m sure it’s fine. Worrying so much is worse for your health than a little stimulation.”

He was wholly unaware of the events leading up to Luci’s call for help. A little stimulation? Yes and the Big Bang was a tad of spilt milk on the cosmic countertop. 

As he peeled open the white and blue wings, he came face to face with… a very standard angelic anatomy. Small cock, gold kissed lower lips. Nothing remotely noteworthy. Raphael tenderly set the wings back down, “Luci, you’re fine.”

“I know it looks fine, but the inside is so hot. And there’s almost an itch.” Raphael nodded absentmindedly, the heat was from increased blood flow. Luci’s hands came to his lap, two fingers pressing softly into his entrance, “But not an itch! Does that make sense? It only feels better when I do this,” Raphael fell back on his ass when he saw those digits enter Luci. 

Noteworthy! 

“You won’t understand, Raphy…here, I can show you a little.” Luci crawled between Raphael’s legs, hands finding his belt. 

As his glasses slid down his nose Raphael let one hand push them up and another press away at Luci’s surprisingly strong form.

“I’d like to go home after this check-up, thank you very much!”

Luci’s bright eyes and mega-watt smile beamed at him as his hands continued to remove the belt and undo the button. “Oh don’t worry! I won’t,” a pause as he looked up for the exact words Lucifer had said, “tongue fuck your prostrate.”

A shriek behind clenched teeth, Raphael’s glasses tumbling off his face and dangling around his neck. 

“You see, the great thing about science is,” Raphael’s hand’s pushed again at Luci’s head as the angel lowered it to his lap, “you don’t need experience to,” his grip loosened on the white blonde hair as his own mint tinted wings were pulled open, “uh, we can still treat patients with the research of oth-,” the word floated from his mouth as Luci’s lips made contact, threatening to reach heaven. A new sensation, warm and wet as his still soft cock was engulfed in the smaller angel’s mouth.

Those once protesting hands raked through Luci’s soft hair, betraying their master’s muttered, “wait— now, hold on.”

Luci’s head popped up, chin shining, “But Raphy there’s more. You’ll understand the tingling for sure”. He returned the growing member to his mouth, taking him to the hilt and letting his long tongue lap at the twitching entrance beneath.

With his head tossed back, Raphael could see his halo jumping to life with the tachycardia Luci had induced. A foreign feeling entirely at his center. He’d handled himself before, but he’d never had something so hot and all encompassing on him. As for the tongue, he had absolutely zero practice to prepare him for the feeling of Luci’s strongest muscle licking incessantly at his cunt. Without intention his knees came up and knocked at the newly fallen angel’s sides.

The back of his hand acted as a physical barrier for the sounds he was biting back. How was Luci’s throat doing that? The sensitive head of his cock caressed by silky and undulating flesh. With his eyes rolling up, vision removed from the equation, his brain was confident he was 90% dick and pussy. The rest of his body was offline. A small rush of precum from both doted on holes made him scramble up, body folding over Luci’s head. 

Luci was careful with his prodding, not entering Raphael’s heaven worthy cunt. He didn’t want the valued doctor locked out, too. 

The air stung his wet sex when Luci withdrew. Thinking it was over, Raphael laid on his back to catch his breath, “I’d hazard a guess, as I don’t have the same tingles as you described-.” Once again he was cut off, broad tongue swiping from his leaking pussy to his dripping cock head. 

Back now arching, Raphael’s hands clawed at the nothing of the space they’d created. He recognized the tightening in his stomach and thighs. He needed to get out from under the angel. But when Luci’s head returned to bob up and down with an even rhythm, still running his tongue between his flushed folds, he couldn’t find the will to move away. Conversely, his hips began to buck up into the heat. 

He was quite confident he could get closer to orgasm and then back away, he told himself. After all, Raphael is an archangel! A creature of resolve! A divine creation of knowledge! 

And this was knowledge. He was learning. In fact he dared call this a research expedition. 

The creeping tension was coming stronger than he had ever felt before. Luci sensed a pang of pride in his chest as the doctor’s stiff member began to jump and twitch. A finger came to rub around Raphael’s other unused hole, smearing saliva and precum around the virginal ring of muscle.  Raphael scrambled under him once again, finding the willpower to push Luci by the forehead off of his cock.

Luci let out a small yelp, surprised when his face was painted with Raphael’s release.  Humming with satisfaction, he wiped the spend from his cheeks and eyes. He did it! 

The still innocent angel leaned up and clapped his hands together, “Now, you’re gonna feel the tingles. Then you can help me figure out what’s wrong!”

When he opened his eyes he realized Raphael was gone, he was alone with his sticky hands and…

“Where’s your belt?” Michael pointed at Raphael’s pants as the angel rushed past him.

“Tourniquet!” Raphael shouted, running into his office and collapsing at his desk. His line of sight was directly on his crotch, the tingles beginning to set in. But not on his prick as he had assumed Luci meant. No, in his still spasming cunt he felt an emptiness. A needling feeling something was lacking. Images of Luci’s fingers entering himself flashed behind his eyes. He shook away the intrusive thought and grabbed his pen. Raphael was determined to write about the sensations and bodily response while it was still fresh.

But as his hand moved along the paper, the letters got sloppier. Looser his grip became as he felt his head drawing to the desk. His eyes fluttered shut on the scene of his hand dropping the pen, barely making it to the part where Luci’s tongue grazed his vulva. And as his consciousness melted away and slipped down his spine, he swore he could feel the lingering heat of Luci’s warm mouth on his lap.

[hieromonkcharbel]

Concerning Bows

Bows are divided into bows to the ground and bows from the waist. They are generally appointed for the evening rule before going to bed. It is best to make bows before reading the evening prayers, that is, to begin the rule with bows. Bows tire and warm the body to some extent and reduce the heart to a state of contrition; in such a state, the ascetic prays with greater zeal, warmth, and attention. The prayers have quite a different taste when they are read or said after bows. Bows must be made extremely unhurriedly, for the bodily labor must be animated by mourning of heart and prayerful cries of grief on the part of the mind. When about to make prostrations, give your body a most reverent attitude, such as a slave and creature of God should have in the presence of his Lord and God. Then collect your thoughts from wandering everywhere, and with extreme unhurriedness, just aloud to yourself, enclosing the mind in the words, and from a contrite and humble heart, say the prayer, “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner.” Having said the prayer, unhurriedly make a prostration, with reverence and the fear of God, without excitement, with the feeling of a person repenting and asking for the forgiveness of his sins, as if you were at the feet of the Lord Jesus Christ Himself. Do not picture to yourself in your imagination the form or figure of the Lord, but have a conviction of His presence; have a conviction that He is looking at you, at your mind and heart, and that His reward is in His hand. The former is impermissible fancy, which leads to disastrous self-deception; but a conviction of the presence of the omnipresent God is a conviction of a most holy truth. Having made the prostration, bring the body to reverence and calm again, and again say unhurriedly the above prayer; then make a prostration again in the way described above. Do not worry about the number of bows. Pay all your attention to the quality of your prayer performed with prostrations. Without speaking of the effect on the spirit, a small number of bows made in the way described above will have a much greater effect on the body itself than a large number made hurriedly, without attention, for quantity. Experience will soon prove this. When you get tired, pass from prostrations to bows from the waist. The extent of the bow from the waist is fixed by this: that when making it, the extended hand should touch the ground or floor. Regarding it as one’s imperative duty in making bows to ensure the soul’s abundant working which consists in attentiveness, unhurriedness, reverence, and the intention to offer penitence to God, the ascetic will soon discover the quantity of bows his constitution can stand. By slightly reducing this number as a concession to his weakness, he can make a daily rule for himself; and when it has been approved and blessed by his spiritual father or his superior, or by a monk whom he trusts and whose advice he

follows, he can perform the rule daily. For the spiritual guidance of our beloved brethren we shall not be silent about the following: bows performed for number, and not animated by the right working of the mind and heart, are more harmful than profitable. Having performed them, the ascetic begins to rejoice. “There,” he says to himself like the Pharisee mentioned in the Gospel, “God has granted me again today to make, say, 300 prostrations! Glory to God! Is that an easy matter? In these times, 300 prostrations! Who keeps such a rule nowadays?” And so on. We must remember that bows heat the blood, and by heating the blood excessively, they help to stimulate mental activity. Having reached such a state, the poor ascetic, just because he has no idea of the soul’s true working, surrenders to mental activity harmful to the soul, surrenders to vainglorious thoughts and fancies, based on his ascetic labor, through which he thinks he is making progress. The ascetic enjoys these thoughts and fancies, cannot have enough of them, adopts them, and so plants within himself the fatal passion of conceit. Conceit soon begins to make its appearance in the secret condemnation of neighbors and in an open disposition to preach to them. Obviously such a disposition is a sign of pride and self-deception; unless a monk considered himself above his neighbor, he would never dare to teach him. Such is the fruit of all bodily labor, unless it is animated by the intention to repent and unless it has repentance as its sole aim, if the labor is given a value in itself. True monastic progress consists in this, that the monk sees himself to be the most sinful of all men. Such was the manner of thought of the true servants of God, true monks. It was formed in them from the right working of the soul. Accompanied by the right working of the soul, even bodily labor has vast significance, being the expression of repentance and humility by acts of the body. “Look upon my humbleness and my hardship, and forgive all my sins,” cries holy David prayerfully to God, combining in his pious effort bodily labor with deep penitence and profound humility.

Brianchaninov, The Arena

[ilchoviette]

𝐒𝐮𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐤𝐮: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲! (𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐞 + requested ❤️ )

⚠️ don't report, if u don't like just leave and scroll :)

⚠️ nsfw, slight smut, pet names, ...

⚠️ i will NOT tolerate hate comments, especially hate towards LGBTQ+ .

With that noted, thank yuuuuu

"Tecchou... please~ stop it... hhh",

"Please..."

Jouno's yelps and helpless crying, moaning was filled in the room- where Tecchou was busy making love with him. They were the high rank mentors made to train and manage the military unit camp, which gives them much privilege to be in a private accommodation with qualified infrastructure. Like ocean waves, Jouno in pure pain and exceeding pleasure, was hip thrusting to Tecchou's movements. The soft bouncy bed made it easier. He was lying prostrate (on his stomach), letting Tecchou thrusting his ''dripping heavenly thing'' from behind. Tecchou, was so excited and almost shooting to the rooftop. In his sadistic rising nature, his eyes was sparkling in desire and sweating, going harder and faster every time Jouno's tears falls down while having himself engulfed in pleasurable pain. Jouno had never shown this vulnerable side of him, as we usually have been seeing him torture the soldiers rather than training with his subtle words, until the moment Tecchou violently threw him on bed.

Just 2 hours ago, they were training, until another mentor of the military camp came up to hit on Jouno.

"Excuse me, are you Mr. Saigiku Jouno?"

He nodded his head, forming a soft smile.

"Ah yes, I sense that you're trying to reach out to me. I can tell that this crucial matter you're hiding and the urge to talk it out makes your heart beat rise...", Softly like a subtle knife blade, he continued to carve into the random mentor's insecurities. Having used to a way of speaking that makes people stimulate their nervousness, Jouno has driven the man crazy.

"wdjkwsjfw, I've had enough! You're gonna get punished for being like that to me, pretty boy."

Before Jouno could react, the man forcefully land a grip on Jouno's delicate wrists, trying to reach to his thighs...

"What the-", Jouno thought in shock. He couldn't let people harass him like that, just because he's pretty. He couldn't even see what the man looks like.

Filled with disgust, Jouno squirmed, until Tecchou suddenly came.

"Oh there you are, little kitty! I mean, my little kitty!", Tecchou exclaimed with sarcasm, trying to emphasize the ''my'' with respect to make the man back off. The man got off, as expected and stood in awkward silence as Tecchou kissed and hugs Jouno tight, while giving the man a death glare that can send chills and awkwardness down the spines.

Jouno who had grew cat ears days ago, twitched his fluffy assets (cat ears), meowing in respond to Tecchou's embrace. Tecchou, marking Jouno as his, was chuckling.

"Why would a pretty kitty boy like him be derelict?", Tecchou made a smug smirk, leaving the mentor guy to blush in rage and helpless embarrassment, running away in shame.

And even if kitty Jouno is derelict... He was made derelict for Tecchou to come and mark him..........

❤️ ❤️❤️ THE END. ❤️❤️

Thanks for reading hehe :3

[johnjankovic1]

Economic Statecraft

Man cannot discover new oceans unless he has the courage to lose sight of the shore. André Gide, 1947

Between the postcolonial Tonnage Act, lighthouse proliferation, the Erie Canal’s inauguration, mail subsidies, the Panama Canal moonshot and the Great Depression’s ex post legislation statecraft has perennially been a prime mover. These vignettes essentially belie free market purists whose reductive views do not align with history. At critical moments across America’s storied past has industrial policy purveyed the seedbed for economic development. Of course the magic of free enterprise creates wealth in the spirit of Adam Smith’s invisible hand but government perpetually remains a handmaiden to it bereft of which nothing would take root in barren soil. A myopic exegesis conflates effect with cause. Such a ‘chicken before the egg’ fallacy remains blinkered to how the apposite conditions must exist as a precursor to the works of laissez-faire capitalism. Ergo there is a special place for government when a country finds itself in the midst of industrializing. Rather than anathema to growth this intervention begets a matrix wherein firms are vested with the latitude to innovate whilst immune to liabilities hence their carte blanche enables them to gestate. Or if not for the right infrastructure these same outfits would be deprived of markets particularly where it relates to their supply chains.

During the nascent years of the Republic in the wake of the Revolutionary War economic nationalism bore the imprimatur of Alexander Hamilton whose advocacy captured a vast audience. With the inordinate clout of British imperialism still looming large over America it behooved President George Washington to channel this doctrine in his government so London’s predations could be checked. It followed that the Tonnage Act of 1789 imposed onerous levies on foreign ships not only as a method to generate revenue but equally to hem in infant industries against the maritime monopoly of Britain. Import-competing shipbuilders could finally carve out a space for themselves where they were once unable. Henceforth America would not be beholden to its counterparts for the carriage of its wares and fare nor would it be idle in the defence of its proper interests overseas. By discriminating against competitors domestic industries catapulted the country into the pantheon of a seaborne power. By stimulating demand for American-made ships producers reaped a windfall of capital whereby they could plough it into their expansion. By running afoul of free trade orthodoxy foreign industries no longer prostrated shipbuilding at home. The Tonnage Act made America a great power to be reckoned with.

Whilst sharing the same vintage as this legislation the federalization of maritime infrastructure also came to substitute for the piecemeal efforts led by states in governing lighthouses. Where trade routes might have once been neglected these upright sentinels lighting the path for ships began to take precedence. Since private investment did not square with the reality of such a public good insofar as the free-rider dilemma disincentivized individuals from contributing to its provision this beckoned government to intercede. Thereafter lighthouses became the ward of the federal treasury. Rather than fall into disuse the proper funds saw to the upkeep of this infrastructure. Lighthouses were unambiguously the sine quo non to the safe passage of ships and this industrial policy made sure that underinvestment no longer beleaguered their operation. Through the mitigation of maritime hazards government attended to the constellation of interests between shipwrights and mariners who could now be assuaged of their anxiety about voyages at sea. Were it not for the Lighthouse Act these same trips would be fraught with the perils of having vessels run aground or worse. Insurers thus breathed a sigh of relief. Although perhaps a roundabout way this investment certainly gave patronage to the maritime industry.

In the same vein as infrastructure the heavy-handed industrial policies giving vent to the Erie and Panama Canals were equally landmarks in America’s development. By cleaving a path through the wilds of the Adirondack region for a gateway to the Atlantic or parting the Isthmus of Panama in two it followed that dividends were had by all. America’s breadbasket in the interior would unite with the cosmopolitan metropolis of New York and the quasi-teleportation portal in the South abridged the journey of commerce between the Western and Eastern seaboards. These corollaries to industrial policy birthed westward expansion in keeping with the providence of Manifest Destiny before the ubiquity of railroads. Both of these monuments to government dirigisme truncated time and transportation costs such that these shortcuts enhanced the competitiveness of America’s exports and imports. Where in a bygone time the prohibitive sum of outlays deterred industrialization now the economic calculus indelibly changed. What these monolithic pieces of infrastructure wrought then was a reconfiguration of trade from a dribble to a torrent of volume. Quite precipitously were capitalism’s animal spirits awakened once nature had been conquered between the Hudson River and Lake Erie or via Panama’s thoroughfare.

The last method by which America trafficked in industrial policy for the maritime sector since jettisoning the British yoke of imperialism entailed both mail and direct subsidies. The former in the guise of the 1845 and 1847 Acts of Congress underwrote packet ships and steamships alike as a stimulus to harness the winds of commerce. By subsidizing mail service Washington feathered an impetus to businesses so they may bootstrap their own growth. A steady stream of revenue promised these firms a lifeline to weather the vagaries of markets with a long term outlook to plough capital into further expansion whether it be in the size of fleets or in the number of trade routes. Upon lowering risk it made private investment more attractive. In turn a stronger Merchant Marine would be a counterpoise to the British Empire that long claimed dominion over the seas. As for direct subsidies like the 1916 Shipping Act or the 1936 Merchant Marine Act they centralized authority between the Shipping Board and the Maritime Commission respectively in order to spur the drumbeat of industry. America’s supply chains diversified in earnest under their purview with the buildup of inventory in ships. Rather than being some derivative footnote all the aforementioned industrial policies nurtured America until it bestrode the world like a giant.

[columbusfirefighterdiaz]

When Buck called him greedy, his instinct was to deny it since he always prided himself on his selfless nature, but this time what Buck accused him of was absolutely true. And fuck did it feel nice to actually be greedy and take something that he truly wanted, something that was all for himself. As he was growing up, his father try to instill in him that being a man was all about sacrifice. If you wanted to be a real man, you had to push everything to the side, which included any emotions - even happiness, and put everyone else's needs first. Being with Buck though has shown Eddie that it's okay to be selfish every now and then and actually take something for yourself. Choosing to make yourself happy only makes other people around you also happy, so he was proud to admit that he was, in fact, very greedy. "For you? Always."

Now that his airway was unrestricted and oxygen was flowing to his brain again, Eddie was able to focus more on just how Buck planned to fuck him in this position. He briefly wondered if Buck had previously fucked or been fucked in this exact position, but Eddie quickly shook that thought from his head. While Eddie very much enjoyed benefiting from Buck's past sexual experiences, he didn't really have any desire to get the details. Even though he was able to distract himself for just a bit, it didn't mean that Eddie was able to be patient. "Fine... but hurry it up. I'm feeling way too empty."

Luckily for Eddie, Buck was either in a generous mood or just as desperate as he was, most likely it was both, so shortly after his pouting he felt the head of Buck's slick cock pressing up against his rim. Even in the odd position, Eddie was relaxed and loose enough to make the slide easy, so it didn't take long for him to finally be full. With Buck's size, it wasn't hard for him to brush against his prostrate, but with this new angle, it was a direct shot with every single thrust. Just as he was getting use to being constantly stimulated every time Buck pushed back into him, the arm that was around his neck began to tighten, and it became harder for him to breath.

Sadly, he had some experience with not being able to breathe when he was trapped underground and had to swim his way out, but luckily for both of them, once he felt himself get lightheaded from the lack of oxygen, it didn't trigger any panic or bring up those bad memories. In fact, all he could think about was how good Buck felt inside of him and how freeing it was to be able to put his trust fully in Buck's arms.

The reaction he got out of Eddie after he let up on his blood flow was everything he could have wanted. Buck found himself smirking, leaning in to mouth and nip at the shell of Eddie's ear as he heard him ask for more. "So greedy..." If it was supposed to be an admonishment, the tone didn't hit, since Buck's voice was deep and gravelly with his own arousal. Were he any less turned on, he might have laid there and just experimented with the breath play, but in this instance, it was never supposed to just be choking, at least not when he'd put effort into opening Eddie up.

"Give me a minute," He teased him, groping around for the lube with his other hand and uncapping it to squeeze more out onto his palm. His hand went down under Eddie's thigh to his own cock, coating it liberally. He wiped off some extra on his own leg and then took hold of the base of his cock. It was a little more difficult going in blind, but the worst of it would just be the tease of it all as the head of his cock rubbed against Eddie's hot skin seeking his rim, and there was nothing wrong with a little teasing. His breath caught in his throat when he felt the sensitive head of his cock rub over the obvious texture of Eddie's hole, holding the other steady with his arm across his shoulders as he arched his hips and moved his hand away from his cock to grip Eddie's hip and guide his movement to sink onto him.

Buck groaned as he bottomed out, briefly distracted by the pleasure of it and momentarily forgetting his other goal when it came back to him and his arm tightened around his lover's neck again. It was a bit of a shame to cut off Eddie's noises by choking him, but there was an eroticism in watching and feeling Eddie's body react, plus it was just downright hot that Eddie trusted him enough to let him do it. Buck made his first experimental thrusts with his grip on Eddie's neck before relaxing his arm enough to let him breathe. Three thrusts as he let him catch his breath, then another cut off and two slower, more deliberate thrusts during.

[bb-editing]

ROXANA (Chapter 34)

… But to say I was ‘enjoying’ the tea party was an overstatement. Really, everyone here is so boring.

“Your toy looks quite interesting- do you want to swap toys for a day?” One guest would say.

“Hmm… But I don’t like your toy.” The other guest would reply.

I glazed over the conversations with lazy ears and a drifting mind.

“Then let’s make a bet. We’ll make both toys compete, and if yours wins, we’ll swap. If mine wins, we won’t.” One of my stepbrothers said.  

“Deal!” Another stepbrother replied. They called in a butler, who was ordered to open the their toy’s cage door.

 The man in the cage walked toward us; his hands drooped, his breathing was laboured, and his eyes had a blue glaze to them- he was clearly under the influence of a strong stimulant.

Like this man, all the other toys present here were in strange conditions. But clearly the stress wasn’t enough- their owners were still trying to pit them against each other, betting on toys like fighting dogs in an arena.

“Who do you think will win?”

“The one with the brown hair.”

“Surely not. Look at him, he’s staggering as we speak. He’s had too much drugs.”

“Well, that just means he can’t feel pain. Isn’t that a good thing?”

Sunlight passed through the glass ceiling of the greenhouse in shimmering waves, and the warmth enlivened the calming scent of the flowers around us. Despite the chaotic conversations raging around me, there was still some beauty to be appreciated here.

When I tuned into the main conversation again, I saw that the toys had begun a melee-style battle. The more blood that was shed and the louder the toys groaned, the more the attendees were enjoying the show.

Truly, it was a good thing for my mother to have left early.

But the match was ended abruptly by the entrance of a servant, who ran and collapsed into the greenhouse, screaming. His face was swollen, and there was blood drenching his clothes.

Maria, the host, turned her head sharply towards him. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Miss Roxana’s toy has escaped!”

Everyone’s eyes flew to meet my eye, but I remained calm. “My toy unlocked and escaped his room?”

“No- we went into the room to invite him to the tea party, but he got past us and escaped.”

“Who asked you to bring my toy to the tea party?”

At that moment, the man shut his mouth as if realizing his mistake. I set my teacup down, swiping the rim with a napkin. “I don’t remember ordering anyone to do that. And yet, you did it anyway.”

“Um… that… W-We were told that Master Dion ordered it, s-so we thought that the order had also been approved by you, Miss Roxana.”

I saw Maria open her mouth to speak, but I was quicker. “That’s funny.”

“You would dare make fun of me in public like this?” I knew they were acting under Dion’s orders, but understanding and forgiving were two very different things when my reputation was coming under fire because of them. Because as of right now, they seemed to be more afraid of Dion than of me.

“N-No! There’s been a misunderstanding! I was wrong, Miss! Please forgive me!”

It wasn’t a petty crime to release my toy without my permission. “So why are you still standing? Shouldn’t you be on your knees, begging for forgiveness?”

I struck the man’s kneecaps with a knife on the table. His knees buckled, and he moaned in pain. “Ahhh…!”

I lowered the cane. “That’s better.” He collapsed completely onto the floor, lying prostrate and garbling apologies.

 “Now,” I said, stepping closer and onto the pool of blood, “What was Cassis’ last confirmed location?”

“A… a corridor heading southwest. Master Jeremy is already after him.”

I thought it best not to delay this any longer, and called to Emily.

“Yes,” she said with a nod of her head. “I will handle it.”

I turned to Maria. “Thank you for the tea party. I’ll take my leave now.”

As I turned to leave, a roar came from outside. The greenhouse, previously illuminated with gentle, suffused sunlight, suddenly became dark. A black lump flew into the walls at such a high speed that the glass cracked.

“What is going on?!” The guests were in a frenzy.

“It’s a monster!”

A monster the size of a house hit the glass of the greenhouse again. It was a ‘Karantul,’ an Agriche-farmed monster that looked like a spider, save for its four legs and scorpion-like tail.

“Miss!”At that moment, a woman drenched in venom entered the greenhouse. It was one of Maria’s maids, and in a high-pitched voice, informed the party that the door to Feedlot 5 had been opened.

I prayed inwardly that this had nothing to do with Cassis’ escape.

[shorkbrian]

Okay lol This idea just popped into my head and I’m asjdhkggshfg (it’s a stupid idea but I’m thirsty okay)

(warnings - dubcon, sex toys)

Cause like the Miya twins are the type to have a private “business”

Atsumu started this “business” as a way to hook up with hot chicks, plus earn a little cash on the side, and eventually dragged his smarty-pants brother Osamu into it to help him manage finances.

They sell sex toys.

Atsumu started with selling silicone dick casts, flirting with the girls who bought them off of someplace like Etsy (kshdgkjsgks He WOULD use Etsy he’s so dumb I love him). He’d tease that the actual dick is so much better than the casts, simply because he’s attached to it, and he knows how to use it. The majority of the time, the girls are half way across the country, not interested, or actually guys (Which Atsumu honestly doesn’t mind), and no one takes him up on his offer.

Occasionally, he strikes gold and finds someone close, and dtf. And then he abandons Osamu for a weekend to go plow someone’s daughter.

Osamu just likes the fact that he gets to make bank without doing hardly anything. This bish probably has a business degree, encourages Atsumu to start selling male masturbators (sleeves, flashlights, yada yada) to increase profits. Atsumu agrees.

Osamu suggests selling vibrators and branching out in the selection of toys they offer.

Atsumu agrees.

The faux-blond has no qualms about modeling the toys, the cock rings, the prostrate massagers, the anal beads, the tip teasers, the penis plugs.

He gets an idea about the female toys.

You’re a cute little classmate from college, laidback, up for anything. Not very opinionated, the type of person to “go with the flow”.

Atsumu kind of remembers that, from the various classes he shared with you, the few parties he remembers you briefly appearing at. But mainly? He remembered how easy you backed down when challenged in class, how you immediately conceded to another classmate even though you were right.

Well, he remembers that, and your plump ass.

He pitches the idea to Osamu, who’s hesitant, but Atsumu’s insistent, and selfish.

So you end up in their apartment, in their “studio” room, where they do product shoots.

You don’t know exactly what you’re doing here, Atsumu had just texted you about needing a model, and how you were the perfect height.

It’s not like you were doing anything else, and plus, having someone as popular and hot as Atsumu pick you for some modeling project? Was kind of an ego-booster.

Next thing you know, Atsumu’s helping you undress, handing you a fluffy, too-large robe (”it’s mine, I’m usually the one modeling.”). Osamu’s setting up the camera, the lighting, sneaking glances at you as Atsumu starts bringing out the various products.

It’s intimidating.

Plugs, vibrators, nipple clamps, some sort of Sybian-like bump, clit pinchers, chains and dildos and things you didn’t even know the names of, didn’t even know where they were supposed to go.

It was too late to say no, apparently.

You were being ushered onto the bed, Atsumu quickly tugging off your robe, already lubing up a toy - an external rabbit vibe.

He made you hold it up against your cunt as he stepped back, out of the shot.

Osamu and him made various comments as they took pictures, adjusting the lighting, instructing you to move into different poses, getting close with the camera to get “different angles”.

Luckily, none of the shots showed your face, the complete discomfort.

It got to the point that Atsumu was spreading your legs, fingering you open, shoving a toy up your pussy, his fingers still stuffed inside.

“Osamu, it looks real hot like this, dont’cha think? Let’s get a few with my fingers still inside her, it’ll make it look organic.”

Osamu nodded, face ever-so-slightly flushed.

Atsumu kept moving his fingers around inside of you, wiggling the toy (A G-spot stimulator) and making little gasps and shuddered whimpers fall out of your mouth. You were squeezing your eyes shut, biting your lips, shoulders up and drawn close to your ears as you tried to resist bucking your hips. 

This was weird, and awkward, and it didn’t feel right being handled like this by the two brothers - but you had been teased for the better part of two hours by a plethora of toys, forced to the edge, immediately pulled back when Osamu quietly muttered that Atsumu could grab the next item.

So sue you for being a bit keyed up.

You almost cried when Atsumu pulled the toy out, along with his fingers, stopping to give your clit a little rub on his way out. 

“Oh shit, don’t cry-” Atsumu noticed your teary face, the way your hole clenched around nothing, how your hips twitched downwards, desperate for stimulation. “-I’ll fill you up real good in a bit, how ‘bout that? Just a few more product shots. I think you’ll like this next one.”

And on it went.

Atsumu and Osamu would be having the time of their lives, the blond brother getting to touch and finger and tease you, make you desperate for a real cock. Deny you your release countless times, until you were crying and begging. 

Osamu is fine with documenting, at least for now. Maybe in a bit, after Atsumu fucks you stupid, Osamu will have his turn keying you up with the toys. Then he could fuck your mouth, or maybe your ass (it had been stretched by a toy or two already). 

And you’re too stupid, too trusting and too non-confrontational to stand up for self, to express your discomfort or worries. Atsumu had overwhelmed you from the moment you had stepped in their apartment, hurrying you along until he could get you skewered on his cock.

Maybe, if they can convince you to do this again, the brothers would share you.

If they get their way, it’ll be a regular weekly occurrence.

[hopespeak-hs-hostclub]

Dirty Little Secret- NSFW Yasuhiro Hagakure One Shot

TW:// NSFW! 18+ ONLY.

Word Count: 1,510

One shot and request below cut!

Can you write a oneshot featuring Yasuhiro Hagakure practicing self bondage please? you can decide how he'd tie himself and what toys he'd use. But I'd like it if he was butt naked, his mouth covered by a multilayered cloth gag, was orgasming non stop, and he was unable to escape his bonds. I guess I'd like this to take place before the Tragedy when everyone was living normally. What if he did this in a closet in an empty classroom at Hope's Peak. He do it thinking that no one would be there. So he gets stuck in bondage and hears some of his classmates of your choosing enter the room. They wouldn't discover him but it does put him in a panic as he tries desperately to stay quiet and not orgasm.

Hopes Peak. A school that traditionally doesn’t care if the students actually attend class, or even learn for that matter, but actually encourage the students to “practice their talent” rather than get an education. Yasuhiro Hagakure is no exception that that by any means. His favorite times of the day are the classes he skips. He loves just sitting in the dining hall, goofing off, scamming reading his friend’s fortunes. But today was a little different. Hiro skipped his first class, like always. He just couldn’t be bothered, because why learn when you can just hang, right? But Hiro, although older than most of his classmates, is still a young guy. He has hormones and gets horny. And every once in a while it happens at school. Could be because of a girl he saw, or, like today, a video he watched in an empty class room. But Hiro kind of planned for this. He typically gets himself off at home- before class. It’s why he’s late so often. But another thing about Yasuhiro is that he loves his mom. So of course, when his mom tells him she wants to have breakfast with him, and drive him to school, he eagerly agreed. Which means he didn’t have any time to himself in the morning, which in turn meant he knew he’d have to take care of it during one of his skipped classes. So he grabbed what he knew he’d need and shoved it in his pockets and backpack as he headed out the door this morning. And that’s where Hiro’s at now. He sat in an empty classroom by himself, in the back. He just watched the hottest video he’s ever seen, and he had to do something about it now. Luckily, the classroom he was in wasn’t an active one. Nobody’s taught, or participated in a class in that room in years, and Hiro knew he would be alone completely… but just to be safe he decided Hiro had to lock himself in the classrooms supply closet. You never know who might wander in or why, and Hiro had to be sure.

Once Hiro had made his way into the closet and locked the door up, he knew he was completely safe from being caught, so he made a risky choice. Hiro quickly dumped the contents of his pockets and bag revealing a rope, some handcuffs, a new toy he’d just purchased over the weekend that he’s been eager to play with, and a handful of cloth gags that he layered over one another, inside and covering his mouth completely, leaving him biting a few, and a few others to muffle himself out. Yasuhiro knew he couldn’t risk getting caught, even though he knew the chances of somebody coming into that classroom were incredibly unlikely, and let’s face it he’s right at least 30% of the time, he knew he has to be careful. Hiro decided to start with, since he planned on tying his hands up somehow, he needed to start by putting the new toy into action. Hiro had recently purchased a two in one toy. It’s a vibrating cock ring, that has a butt plug on the backside. So, as Hiro gently slides the cock ring part over his already hard dick, the other half of the toy goes right up his ass. “Mm.. fck..” he mumbled through the layers of mask, very muffled and quiet. The next step was to remove the rest of his clothing, leaving him totally exposed. He had decided the best position to put himself in was with his wrist tied around the legs of the tall shelf in the closet. He brought the cuffs as well, but was incredibly nervous about not being able to undo those, so he just placed those above his head on the shelf for now.

Now with everything in place and ready, Hiro was ready.

He had positioned the remote to the vibrating ring in a way that he could easily press it behind his back with his hands tied, and once he did he was ready to go.

Hiro quickly gets incredibly hard, with the cock ring buzzing around the base of his now fully erect cock, and the plug part shoved straight up his ass, hitting his prostate perfectly. He decided to leave one hand completely free, so he could play with himself, and he did just that. Hiro immediately started pumping his dick, with such force that he’s lucky he had the gags, or he’d have been screaming otherwise. “Hmmm… fffuck…” hiro muttered under the mask, barely audible. He lifted himself off the floor just a little, before slamming back down onto it, making the plug ram into his prostrate with a lot of force and power. “NNNNNG!” Hiro cried out, in pleasure. With just a few more tugs to his dick, he thrust up into his hands one more time and immediately started cumming, even though it’s only been 5 minutes. The pleasure just became too much, and he’d came all over his chest and hands. He started panting heavily. “Hnmmm…” he whimpered in bliss. But he didn’t have any time to recover, as his dick was still rock hard, and the plug on his prostrate was making him feel like he could orgasm again at any given moment. Hiro had began to lightly play with himself, making him orgasm and cum all over himself once again. “Ahh! Hnnng!!” He cried out as he came everywhere. This repeated a few more times. He couldn’t stop himself from cumming, he felt so amazing.

In total, Hiro came 5 times by now. He was so sensitive, over stimulated, and almost sore but he couldn’t stop. It felt so good. He decided to stop touching himself for a second and just let the vibrator and butt plug do their thing, but as he did that he heard a noise. A click? Then he heard his greatest fear.

“Makoto, thank you for helping me with the homework today. Are you sure this class room isn’t being used?” Asahina asked, assumingely Makoto.

“Well of course! I don’t mind at all Asahina! And no, there haven’t been any classes held in here all year!”

“God this is a nightmare” Hiro whimpered in his head. He felt so fucking good right now, but he should’ve known better. Not only is he totally naked and can’t stop cumming, but his friends are literally right outside the door. He knows he can’t get caught, but he can’t stop. Without even meaning to he cums again and has to literally bite the gag and his tongue to keep himself from screaming out. He wants to stop but it feels too good.

20 more minutes pass, and Hiro’s sweaty, absolutely covered in his cum, with tears running down his face from trying so hard not to make a single noise, when he hears the best thing he’s ever heard.

“Okay! Thanks Makoto! You’re really the best!” Hina said joyfully.

“Don’t even worry about it Hina! That’s what I’m here for!” Makoto responded.

“Ffnk god..” hiro mumbled to himself as he heard their voices get further away. At this point he was so worn out he had to stop, but couldn’t risk getting caught so he had to wait a little while longer.

Exhausted and overwhelmed Hiro took everything off, quickly put his clothes back onto his filthy body, shoved all his toys and Ropes back into his bag and pockets, and ran to the shower room to clean up. As he was leaving the room and walking down the hallway, he passed Makoto who was headed back to the empty room. “Oh, hey Hiro! Where have you been today?” Makoto asked innocently.

“Oh.. uh.. just, catching up on some school work.. I just.. I gotta go though, sorry,” he said in a panic, still out of breathe as he ran the opposite direction.

After Yasuhiro had showered and cleaned himself off to the best of his ability he decided it was best to try and join his classmates for the remainder of the day to attempt to blend in. The whole day went normal and fine, until Makoto walked up to Hiro and pulled him to the side.

“Hey, uh, Hiro, after I saw you in the hallway before? I had to run to an empty classroom to grab a spare notebook for a project. And I .. found this,” Makoto said awkwardly not looking Hiro in the eyes. “You don’t have to say anything, but I’m almost certain they’re yours..” he dropped a pair of handcuffs into Hiro’s hands. “They were just sitting on the shelf..”

A panicked Hiro just laughed and said “okay Makoto! I understand. I’ll use my powers to find the owner and return them as soon as I can!” But on the inside he was dying.

He quickly turned away from Makoto shoved the cuffs in his pocket, and ran out of the room heading home. At least he never officially got caught though.. right?

[rocorambles]

Okay but consider the Japan national team gangbanging oikawa at the Olympic village and just absolutely ruining him

Anon this ask sent me THROUGH THE ROOF. So I only included the team members who have some type of relationship with Oikawa to make it a bit easier for me to imagine dynamics and write this out, but hopefully that suffices~

Warnings: NSFW, Gangbang, Humiliation

Oikawa curses himself for always being so easily persuaded by Iwaizumi. His boyfriend is a man who rarely voices anything he wants, so when he does ask for something, Oikawa rushes head over heels to make him happy, to show him he loves the spiky haired athletic trainer as much as Iwaizumi loves him and continuously proves his love to Oikawa over and over again. But now that he’s naked and sprawled on a hotel bed in front of four pairs of hungry eyes that he’s all too familiar with, he can feel his eagerness to please Iwaizumi being overcome with something much more tense and unsure. 

He’s grateful when Iwaizumi runs a calloused hand gently down his face, cradling his cheek and he leans into the comforting touch as Iwaizumi looks him in the eye and he knows all he has to say is one word and this could all be over. He knows Iwaizumi wouldn’t even hesitate to end this whole thing immediately at the first hint that Oikawa wasn’t enjoying himself. And it’s the confidence and sense of security that makes him narrow his eyes in determination, a coy smirk twisting his lips as he turns his attention back to the other three men intently staring at him. 

Of course Hinata is the first to bound over to him and Oikawa is grateful for the warmth, both literal and figuratively, he provides as he enthusiastically plants his lips on Oikawa’s lips, pulling briefly away to give him his trademark grin before focusing his attention on slipping his fingers into the setter’s already prepped and loosened hole, staring in awe as Oikawa gasps at the feeling of being filled. But even the pleasured jolts he feels as Hinata searches for his prostrate aren’t enough to keep him from mildly sneering at Kageyama who’s tentatively walking towards the two men. 

“It’s a little late to act shy when you agreed to a gangbang, Tobio-chan.” 

He revels in the way he makes blue eyes narrow in anger, satisfaction mixing with the pleasure he’s feeling, only to pout and look up at Iwaizumi when his harsh hand roughly pulls his head back by his brown locks. 

“Play nice, Shittykawa.” 

Oikawa rolls his eyes, but he shuts his mouth and impatiently beckons the younger setter over before pulling away from the orange haired athlete enough to rearrange himself until he’s on all fours, ass on full display for Hinata, his mouth eye level with Kageyama’s cock and he bites back a whimper at the thought of that long cock suffocating him, being shoved down his throat. But he’s brought out of his daydream at the feeling of a hard blunt tip being pressed against his twitching puckered hole and he moans as Hinata slowly slides in, taking his time as he watches Oikawa take him inch by inch until there’s nothing left but his balls. There’s a pause as Hinata tightly grips onto Oikawa’s hips, gritting his teeth at the feeling of how tight, how hot he is clenching around his cock. 

But Hinata’s always been naturally physically talented and it’s not long before he begins to thrust his hips, almost immediately finding his prostate and Oikawa lets out an embarrassing high pitched keen from being ravaged by the younger man, almost forgetting the situation he’s in until another object is being pressed against his lips and his mouth unconsciously opens, letting Kageyama glide his cock into his slick heat and he swears his mind goes blank as both ends are filled. 

In. Out. In. Out. 

Oikawa can’t think of anything besides the cock rubbing against his sensitive walls, brushing against the bundle of nerves inside of him that has him seeing stars and the feeling of being thoroughly used as Kageyama mindlessly loses himself to the pleasure of his cock being drenched in Oikawa’s saliva slick hole, the tip of his cock pounding against the back of his throat. And as Kageyama spills his cum into his mouth, his eyes roll back at the salty bitter taste and he can feel himself come untouched, the clenching of his ass and convulsing of his body spurring Hinata into a feverish pace as he chases his own end, spurting long ropes of semen deep inside of Oikawa. 

He looks like a complete mess, exhausted body fully collapsed on the bed without the two men supporting him, white trails leaking out of his spent hole, a pleasure dazed look on his handsome face and Iwaizumi can feel his cock twitch at the debauched sight. But he’s a patient man and the night is far from over as he beckons Ushijima over. 

Oikawa’s mind feels like it’s stuck in a haze of post-coital bliss and he barely registers his body being easily lifted by strong hands, only wailing as he’s curled up in someone’s lap, the familiar feeling of a cock brushing against his entrance bringing him back to reality and his hands instinctively clutch at Ushijima’s broad shoulders as he’s lowered down on his lap. And he’s so thankful Hinata had gone first, prepared him even just a bit for the monstrous length he’s sinking down on, and his jaw drops open in a silent scream as it keeps on going, more and more mass being shoved into him, stretching his hole, stuffing his stomach until he swears that if he placed a hand on his abdomen, he’d feel a bump. But just when it borders on being too much, it finally stops and he pants, tiny breathy gasps escaping him as his body accommodates and adjusts. 

And when he makes eye contact with the stern face that’s haunted him and plagued his mind for years, the humiliation he feels at being speared on his long time rival’s cock only twists and fans the flames of lust inside of him and he brokenly cries out as he experimentally bounces on Ushijima’s lap, drooling at the feeling of his prostate effortlessly being constantly stimulated by the sheer size inside of him, digging his nails into strong back muscles at the delicious friction of the cock inside of him, mewling as his hardening cock rubs against the toned planes of Ushijima’s abs. 

But it’s when he makes eye contact with Iwaizumi who’s standing behind the two of them and sees the raw desire in those green eyes that he loves so dearly, that he succumbs to another wave of pleasure, letting himself once again fall over the edge despite barely being able to put himself together after his last fall. And even when he’s on the other side of his peak, his body being roughly used as a living doll for Ushijima to lift and drop on his cock repeatedly, he never breaks eye contact, eyes hungry despite the exhaustion he feels as he watches his boyfriend furiously rub his cock, practically purring in content as Iwaizumi’s patience finally breaks and he paints Oikawa’s face white with long sticky stripes. 

His tongue immediately lolls out, trying to get even the tiniest taste of his lover’s essence and Iwaizumi smirks at the lewd sight. He can already hear Oikawa’s incessant whining and envision his bratty behavior once the other three athletes leave the hotel room and he knows he’ll be spoiling and tending to Oikawa’s every need for at least the rest of the week in return for making his fantasy come true. But as he watches the wanton scene in front of him, he can’t help but feel that it’s a small price to pay~

[wisdomrays]

QUESTIONS & ANSWERS: What Satan is and Why He Was Created?

Satan was created from fire, like the jinn with whom he mostly kept company. Before his obedience and sincerity was tested through Adam, he had been in the company of angels, acting and worshipping as they did. Unlike angels who follow orders and never rebel against God (66:6), Satan can choose his own path of conduct. When God tested him together with the angels by commanding them to prostrate before Adam (i.e., humanity), the seeds of self-conceit and disobedience in his nature burst open and swallowed him: I am better than him. You created me from fire, whilst him you did create of clay (38.76).

Satan was created for important purposes. First of all, if Satan did try continually to seduce humanity, our creation would have been meaningless and futile. God has innumerable servants who cannot rebel and therefore do whatever they are commanded. In fact, the existence of an absolute Divine Being Who has many beautiful Names and Attributes requires, not by way of external necessity but due to the essential nature of His Names, that His Names be manifest. He manifests all of His Names only through humanity.

Since He has free will, He gave us free will, by which is meant the ability to choose between alternatives. In addition, God endowed us with great potentials. The purpose of the constant inner and outer struggles that we face is the direct result of our ability to choose and to develop those potentials. Just as God sends hawks upon sparrows so that the latter can develop their potential to escape, He created Satan and allowed him to tempt us so that we can rise to higher spiritual ranks and strengthen our willpower by resisting temptation. As hunger stimulates people and animals to further exertion and discovery of new ways to be satisfied, and fear inspires new ways of defence, Satan's temptations cause us to develop our potentials and to be alert against sin.

Angels do not rise to the higher spiritual ranks, for Satan cannot tempt them or lead them astray. Animals have fixed stations, meaning that they can neither ascend or descend. Only humanity is faced with an infinite number of ranks or stations, and only we can rise or fall accordingly. There is an infinitely long line of spiritual evolution between the ranks of the greatest Prophets and saints down to such people as Pharaoh and Nimrod.

Given this, we cannot claimed that the creation of Satan is an evil. Although Satan is an evil creature, God's creation involves the whole universe and should be understood in relation to the results, not only with respect to the acts themselves. Whatever God does or creates is good and beautiful either in itself or in its effects. For example, rain and fire produce many effects, almost all of which are useful. If some people are harmed by water and fire through their own abuse of them, we cannot claim that their creation is not wholly good. Similarly, the main purpose for creating Satan is to enable us to develop our potentials, strengthen our willpower by resisting temptation, and to rise to higher spiritual ranks.

Some argue that many people fall into unbelief and so enter Hell because of Satan's temptations. To such people, I respond: Although Satan was created for many good and universal purposes, people can be deceived by him. However, Satan cannot compel us to commit a wrong or a sin; his power is limited to that of suggestion and encouragement. If we are so weak that we allow Satan to deceive us and thus follow him, it is our own fault that we end up in Hell. This is a suitable punishment for our misuse of an important faculty on which God conferred existence so that we can develop our potentials and achieve high spiritual ranks. Our task is to use our free will, which largely makes us human and allows us to have the highest position in creation, in the cause of intellectual and spiritual evolution. If we do not do so, it means that we complain of being honored with free will and of our own humanity.

Second, quality is far more important than quantity. Given this, we should consider qualitative (instead of quantitative) values when judging. For example, 100 date pits are worth only 100 cents as long as they remain as seeds. Their value can increase only if they are planted and grow into palm trees. But if only 20 actually grow into palm trees, can we say that it is "evil" to plant and water them? Clearly, it is wholly good to have 20 trees in exchange for 20 puts, since 20 trees will give 20,000 pits.

Again, say that 100 peahen eggs are worth 500 cents. But if only 20 eggs produce chicks, who would consider it an evil to risk producing 20 chicks at the expense of the other 80 eggs? On the contrary, it is wholly good to have 20 birds at the expense of 80 eggs, worth 400 cents, because those 20 chicks will be worth far more money, and some will even lay eggs.

The same is true with humanity. By resisting Satan and our evil-commanding selves, humanity has gained thousands of Prophets, countless saints and people of wisdom, knowledge, sincerity, and good morals. All of these people are the sun, moon, and stars of the human world. In exchange for such people, far more lower-quality pepole were lost.

[hieromonkcharbel]

Concerning Bows

Bows are divided into bows to the ground and bows from the waist. They are generally appointed for the evening rule before going to bed. It is best to make bows before reading the evening prayers, that is, to begin the rule with bows. Bows tire and warm the body to some extent and reduce the heart to a state of contrition; in such a state, the ascetic prays with greater zeal, warmth, and attention. The prayers have quite a different taste when they are read or said after bows. Bows must be made extremely unhurriedly, for the bodily labor must be animated by mourning of heart and prayerful cries of grief on the part of the mind. When about to make prostrations, give your body a most reverent attitude, such as a slave and creature of God should have in the presence of his Lord and God. Then collect your thoughts from wandering everywhere, and with extreme unhurriedness, just aloud to yourself, enclosing the mind in the words, and from a contrite and humble heart, say the prayer, “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner.” Having said the prayer, unhurriedly make a prostration, with reverence and the fear of God, without excitement, with the feeling of a person repenting and asking for the forgiveness of his sins, as if you were at the feet of the Lord Jesus Christ Himself. Do not picture to yourself in your imagination the form or figure of the Lord, but have a conviction of His presence; have a conviction that He is looking at you, at your mind and heart, and that His reward is in His hand. The former is impermissible fancy, which leads to disastrous self-deception; but a conviction of the presence of the omnipresent God is a conviction of a most holy truth. Having made the prostration, bring the body to reverence and calm again, and again say unhurriedly the above prayer; then make a prostration again in the way described above. Do not worry about the number of bows. Pay all your attention to the quality of your prayer performed with prostrations. Without speaking of the effect on the spirit, a small number of bows made in the way described above will have a much greater effect on the body itself than a large number made hurriedly, without attention, for quantity. Experience will soon prove this. When you get tired, pass from prostrations to bows from the waist. The extent of the bow from the waist is fixed by this: that when making it, the extended hand should touch the ground or floor. Regarding it as one’s imperative duty in making bows to ensure the soul’s abundant working which consists in attentiveness, unhurriedness, reverence, and the intention to offer penitence to God, the ascetic will soon discover the quantity of bows his constitution can stand. By slightly reducing this number as a concession to his weakness, he can make a daily rule for himself; and when it has been approved and blessed by his spiritual father or his superior, or by a monk whom he trusts and whose advice he

follows, he can perform the rule daily. For the spiritual guidance of our beloved brethren we shall not be silent about the following: bows performed for number, and not animated by the right working of the mind and heart, are more harmful than profitable. Having performed them, the ascetic begins to rejoice. “There,” he says to himself like the Pharisee mentioned in the Gospel, “God has granted me again today to make, say, 300 prostrations! Glory to God! Is that an easy matter? In these times, 300 prostrations! Who keeps such a rule nowadays?” And so on. We must remember that bows heat the blood, and by heating the blood excessively, they help to stimulate mental activity. Having reached such a state, the poor ascetic, just because he has no idea of the soul’s true working, surrenders to mental activity harmful to the soul, surrenders to vainglorious thoughts and fancies, based on his ascetic labor, through which he thinks he is making progress. The ascetic enjoys these thoughts and fancies, cannot have enough of them, adopts them, and so plants within himself the fatal passion of conceit. Conceit soon begins to make its appearance in the secret condemnation of neighbors and in an open disposition to preach to them. Obviously such a disposition is a sign of pride and self-deception; unless a monk considered himself above his neighbor, he would never dare to teach him. Such is the fruit of all bodily labor, unless it is animated by the intention to repent and unless it has repentance as its sole aim, if the labor is given a value in itself. True monastic progress consists in this, that the monk sees himself to be the most sinful of all men. Such was the manner of thought of the true servants of God, true monks. It was formed in them from the right working of the soul. Accompanied by the right working of the soul, even bodily labor has vast significance, being the expression of repentance and humility by acts of the body. “Look upon my humbleness and my hardship, and forgive all my sins,” cries holy David prayerfully to God, combining in his pious effort bodily labor with deep penitence and profound humility.

Brianchaninov, The Arena

[nikkoliferous]

Nikko, I just want to say, that latest check-fact post is both hilarious and awesome! Tbh I silently hope more Anti-Loki's would start their argument just so I can watch you murder them😂 That being said, stories, i.e myths, do seem to like villain-washing characters just bc they don't fit in the Society™. And people just follow the narrator to the end-comma without giving a damn. Now the first thing I do if I find a myth-based book is to check who is the villain and why they are the villain

Haha. I sort of feel like a cat playing with a dead mouse. Like, it's fun for a little while, but eventually you get bored because you're not really being stimulated in any way. But I did have a lot of fun doing the fact check format. Made me feel all official somehow. Lol

And yes! Hero characters are, by definition, defenders of the status quo. And consequently, villain characters are, by definition, challengers of it. Their behaviours are often either temporarily (as in the case of Loki) or chronically immoral, but it's always worth looking at why they are considered villains. Especially when their history is, more often than not, no more bloody than that of many characters who are allowed to claim the mantle of "hero". What would it take for Loki to be widely accepted as a hero? Simply not doing evil things? He hasn't filled the role of the "villain" in nearly a decade, and yet he is still considered by many people to be one. So surely, it's not that. Perhaps if he were to finally prostrate himself before our heroes, consent himself to being judged by—in his own words—people who are no more virtuous than he is. In other words, if he too were to become an agent of the status quo. Then he might be worthy. Then he might be redeemable. Loki's greatest crime, not only in Odin's eyes but in the eyes of many consumers of media, has always been non-conformity. Even when he was being a "good boy" for the one thousand years prior to the events of Thor (2011), it is clear he failed to conform on some level to Asgardian social norms. Even while struggling to measure up to Odin's impossible demands, he retained his spirit of individuality. His descent into "villainy" only amplified his persistent quest for independence, for agency, for his own identity. And that's just not okay. Humans need the world to be able to be broken down into neat categories like "good" and "bad". It is how they make sense of the world. It is how they protect themselves. It is an understandable impulse. And it should be resisted.

What is most troubling, I think, is that I suspect many of the people who think this way do not even realise it. Many of them believe they are objective. Many of them believe they do think critically. But their behaviour and their inability to recognise narrative spin says otherwise. Something my former pastor used to say often was, "The only true objectivity is subjectivity rendered conscious of itself." Meaning, there is no such thing as a truly objective person. We all have biases. We are all susceptible to spin and propaganda. The best that we can do is to be aware of what our specific biases are and be willing to challenge them by asking ourselves hard questions. My bias is that I identify with and empathise with Loki. Why do I connect with him? What is it in him that calls out to me so strongly? Why is it important to me that he be defended? Why does it matter that people see him the way I do? Am I being overly merciful to him? If I am, what's compelling me to do that? Am I not being merciful enough? If not, why? How has my perspective been skewed to this point? What does my perception of Loki say about my core values? Am I satisfied with what it says about my core values? And on and on.

This got way longer and ramblier (not sure that's a word? lol) than I intended, but TL;DR it's always a good idea to take the time to ask why a villain is a villain and a hero is a hero, even if you ultimately come away with the conclusion that they indeed are one. The value is in the question as much as it is in the answer.

[pokenimagines]

Rock Bottom (Gordie x Reader)

This is dedicated to my child Pepper, because everyone knows that Gordie is a bottom and Pepper adores it. So I wanted to write a piece to show my love. Reader has either a dick or a strap on, you get to decide.

Discord (16+) - Request Info

Warning: This is NSFW so if you’re under the legal age or uncomfortable with content like this, please skip over this one!

Bottom!Gordie x Reader

When you walked him, you hadn’t expected to see such a sight. Gordie laid on the bed, his face pressed against the mattress, ass in the air, and one hand fisting his cock as he all put drooled. It was clear he had been edging all day, just like you told him. You only hadn’t expected him to have such a display for you.

“Oh, how’s my good boy doing?” You said as you sauntered in, Gordie finally noticing you as he heaved a needy whine. He went to sit up, but you were faster as you put a hand on the back of his neck.

“Ah, ah, I want to see what a mess you’ve become while I was at work.” You cooed as your hand ran over his twitching erection. It was bright red and in need of some grave relief. He almost came right there from feeling your cold hand against his hot body.

“Ooooh, looks like you’ve been a good boy. Do you know what good boys get?” You asked while stroking him. He only whined again into the pillow, looking at you with lustful eyes. You gave a particularly harsh squeeze, making him gasp in surprise, “Use your words, Gordie.” You cooed.

“Please, let me cum.” He said between breathy moans. You brought your hand back to your mouth, licking at the precum that was all over his cock. You fiddle with the bright yellow gemmed butt plug in his ass, moving it around, making him squirm against your touch, “Please, please, please.” He kept going on like a mantra.

“Alright, give me a moment to get ready.” You said as you walked out of the room. You came back a few moments later, lube along your dick and a leash to go along with the orange collar around his neck. You hooked it on and gave it a tug, making him gasp as you pressed the tip of the cock against his hole.

“Tell me what you want.” You said, sliding it between his cheeks as you got more lube on your hand.

“Please, I want you to fuck me.” He whined as two fingers quickly entered him from his generous prep work. In no time, he was ready and open enough for the ten-inch cock you were sporting.

“Good boy.” You cooed, slapping his ass and making him moan out again as you began sliding inside of him. He was twitching from the stimulation, and you moved the leash, so he was looking back at you. His mouth hung open, body quivering, and his eyes rolled back. He was a gorgeous sight to see as you hilted inside of him.

You gave him a few moments to adjust before you began a steady pace of slamming your cock into him. He was screaming by the time you picked up, aiming for his prostrate, which you knew well from all your other play sessions. His moans filled the room like music, and you were sure there would be noise complaints coming in later.

You wrapped a hand around his own throbbing dick, pumping it a few times, and suddenly his eyes went wide, whole-body convulsing as he came hard all over the bed and his stomach. His breath was stuttered as he rode his orgasm, your hand, and cock helping him.

Once he seemed to finally come down, you stroked his overstimulated length a few times, making him whimper under your touch. You took the cock out of him as he rolled over, looking like a blissed-out mess.

“Ah, there he is. My rock bottom.”

[bbwchastitycpl]

Anal Training & Prostate Milking

Why anal training?

Anal training serves several purposes which are not only essential for your success, his emotional well being but to his health as well. Anal Training can also be referred to as prostate milking although in our case will be called anal training because is more than just prostate milking. Anal training is a necessity if your male is locked up for several weeks or more otherwise his prostate can get clogged up. Milking causes a release of semen clearing out the prostrate but provides none of the satisfaction of an orgasm. A male is usually even more frustrated after a milking than before because he has been stimulated similar to an orgasm but not allowed to have it. However over time he will relax and the feeling of frustration will disappear. Milking also helps to prevent nocturnal or spontaneous orgasms which can happen if he is locked up long enough without being milked or allowed to cum. You can look at prostate milking through anal penetration or prostate stimulation as a necessary procedure. When anally penetrating your hubby you must not release him from his device or he may be tempted to stimulate his penis and all your hard work up to that time will be ruined.

Using a strap-on and taking your man anally does not only achieves the goal of milking him but it will also promote his hormonal levels to an optimal level where his feelings of attachment and love are increased to a  higher level.

How do I do it?

Go out and buy a strap-on dildo or get one online. Start out with something not too big and preferably something that closely resembles a real penis in texture. You must make sure to buy lubricant as doing this without it can be extremely painful for him and hurt him in a negative way. Start out by arousing him in the ways you know how. Have him turn on his tummy with his ass up and kiss his back and buttocks area and gently slide your finder using a generous amount of  warm lubricant down to his anus. Gently rub your finder around, continue to kiss his buttocks or his back and gently slide the tip of your finger. Continue your play until you manage to slide in your whole finder and gently pull in and out.  You will know when the time is right to turn him around on his back, here is when you will slide your finger and with a gentle movement of your finger like indicating "come here" will begin to stimulate his prostate while you continue to go in and out. It may take some time and you may not be successful the first time, however he will get some pleasure out of it.  After a few days of this type of play you can introduce your dildo or strap-on. It is recommended that before you attempt to penetrate him you stimulate his anus with your finger as mentioned before. This will get him ready and relax his anus muscles.

(To be continued....)

[ala-mhinyan]

XI :: Ultracrepidarian

[ Several Months Ago: C’arha is still currently on Hiatus ]

{ TW: Mansplaining / GasLighting; Implications of Sexual Abuse }

Ul’dah was as bustling as it always was, the streets lined with the prospect of coin and carriage; the wealthy casting disgusted glares among common-folk while they bartered and bantered, coin exchanged and value pressed upon another by how silver their tongue ran. The game was one that you couldn’t enter into without gil, a prowess for being underhanded, connections in high places or incredible fucking luck.

C’arha had much of that and much of it in spades.

She had an entirely different outlook and way of carrying herself that she didn’t previously have when she first crawled her way into the city, belly first and starving. No one had paid her any mind. She was nothing but another one of the begging filth from Ala Mhigo--a stain upon not only the economy but the outlook of the pristine and rich lands of the Ul’dahn city states.

Eyes only watched her when she spread her thighs for food.

Where the rest of the sun-dried, fanciful hovel had forgotten her--for she was nothing more than an auburn colored smear in the dirt, she had not forgotten the way the city had treated her. She could see it in each of their faces, how they offered her pleasant smiles and pandered to their wares; prostrating peacocks desperate for the half-gleam of her green eyes to grace their product.

It made her gut twist, the grimace of a woman gone mad with vengeance and rage contorting to the fox-faced smirk of a merchant looking innocently through stalls for that rare ‘something’ she could never find. Their dismay that she would never afford them a second glance lit a fire in her belly that would never, truly, be stomped out and she reveled in knowing that these same men and women that domineered the Sapphire Avenue and swore by their ‘legitimate’ goods, the same who would promise her loans just to get on her feet would be the same who floundered about--squawking for her attention like pigeons waiting to be fed.

Nothing brought her deeper satisfaction than having a gavel to hold and swing at the very heads of the same people that denied her humanity, kindness and love while shouting slurs and pecking at her pride by referring to her people--her blood, as nothing but lowly.

Bastards with their hands out. Strange. Savage.

She had noted every dirty look, every cruel comment, every single one of their cocky, corrupt, filthy faces. She remembered and she remembered well.

That is why a particular stall, a man clothed in fine jewelry--tossing his hands about and making racket to garner attention--caught her eye. Ah, a face she’d remembered. Nothing stopped the clack of heel and the sweep of hips, hellfire in her walk when she curved about the crowd to the front of the pack with an authority that demanded the crowd part for her presence. The pale-skinned jeweler took note of her and her appearance; cracking an easy smirk when the smaller woman lifted her fingers and wriggled them in greeting.

“And you, the green-eyed jewel of the marketplace, may I interest you in some fine filigree to dangle about those beautiful wrists?”

C’arha’s lips curled--but she managed to push it back to a dangerous smirk and not a snarling hiss.

“You maeh.”

“Oh! I know that accent anywhere! You are quite the exotic to have roaming our fair stalls in the daylight!” His voice rose an octave on the tail-end of that statement, forcing the hackles on the woman standing before him to raise. Despite the hidden physical response, she flashed him a pretty smile and said nothing more--pointedly ignoring the whispering of the crowd behind her.

The salesman shifted back to his stall, reaching for and retrieving a golden amulet with a jade center--the chain dangling back and off from the center of his palm. He presented the piece to her, which she took and hummed over gently--interest brightening in her gaze. His reaction to her interest was all she needed, that cat-like grin growing when he noticed her flipping the amulet over in her palm several times and seemed to be pleased with it.

“Oh this, m’darlin’ flower, is an amulet of prosperity that comes directly from yer lands! Pure gold with a jade center, meant to stimulate peace on the person and within the household when maintained easily enough. Matches yer eyes like a dream, darlin’! How about I throw in a discount fer ya?”

C’arha let her sharp gaze flick from the amulet to the man.

“‘Ow much?”

“20 thousand gil! Surely somethin’ comin’ from yer land has more weight and interest to someone like yerself!” The hyur bobbed his head, gesturing with his hands to get the crowd to respond; which they did, nodding along with him. When C’arha did not immediately respond, the man cocked a brow and leaned in--voice dropping in tone and coated in false concern.

“What is it lass…? Can… Can ya not afford it?”

The runt of a Seeker couldn’t help it then--it was too much. She burst out into bright, shrill laughter that danced it’s way down the alley with about as much pompous energy as the salesman trying to sell her absolute dozo shite.

“You must fanceh yoahself an enteahtainah as much as you fanceh yoahself a snake oil salesman.”

The hyur wrinkled his nose, starting to come out of his shocked still notion to hem and haw at her. “What are ya gettin’ at, lass?”

“This shit is about as fake as yoah beahd is, fool. That is what I am getting at.”

The salesman’s eyes sharpened and he tossed his head back, letting out a whoop followed by a soft snort. “Callin’ it fake when ye can’t afford it? Bit cheap of a tactic, don’t ya think? I was even gonna throw in a discount cuz yer so plum pretty--but like this… Maybe not.”

C’arha shrugged, offering the man her same--stilled--unbothered smile. “Do you want me to prove it?”

He curled his lip, venom dripping off his teeth and tongue with each syllable that dribbled out of his foul mouth. “I -implore- you to.”

Shrugging her shoulders, C’arha let out a brief sigh. “Vereh well.” Tossing the amulet into her other hand, she rolled the jewelry between her fingers and then--all at once--crunched down on the metal with her fingers, closing her fist about it. When she opened her hand, the ‘jade’ bit of the amulet was cracked in half and in two pieces--as well as much of the chain having shucked off in… flakes?

The woman turned, showing the sham to the crowd with a tired sigh. “Crystal you painted to look like jade--no jade is cleah on th’inside. And this chain? Gold plated coppah--at best. Caeh to explain yoahself?”

The salesman stood--staring wide eyed at the runt that had just strolled up and ruined his showcase in a matter of moments, in front of a crowd no less! His hands motioned to the rest of his case and he parted his lips to explain himself before C’arha cut him off entirely and with little regard for what he -actually- had to say.

“‘Ow long ‘ave you favoahed yoahself an authentic salesman in th’Exchange? Summahs now, ‘asn’t it been? ‘Ow maneh repeat custoahmahs ‘ave you ‘ad? ‘Ow maneh came to you, screaming of ‘ow you deceived them and yoah long-time clients bailed you out of th’stickeh spot by shouting yoah praises ovah th’truth? ‘Ow maneh times ‘ave you ‘ad yoah balls tickled by th’nobel women whose feet you kiss to keep yoah pitiful shack in business?”

The hyur snarled sharply and took a step toward C’arha, looming over her with hate burning in every ounce of his body. “Now hold on th--”

“Shouldn’t you be paehing moah attention to th’crowd?”

He paused… And brown eyes flicked upward to note the crowd’s reaction. Many were watching the exchange while others were furiously talking amongst themselves--only for the man to notice the looks of disgust and anger they held toward the jeweler more than the little Ala Mhigan that had undone all his hard earned work in a matter of moments.

“N-Now now everyone! Let’s not believe hysteria!”

“But you can’t deny this! She has the proof in her hands!”

“Come now, you would trust the word of an Ala Mhigan over me? Born and bred in Ul’dah’s very heart? What of comradery for your fellow man?!”

C’arha could only laugh once more, shaking her head with glittering amusement in her eyes. “Is that naught who the betrayal often comes from? Yoah ‘fellow man’?”

He was too slow to stop the first rock lobbed at his showcase and the rest? He wouldn’t have dared to step in front of. The motion had been quick and their anger swift; for just an instance later the stall was nothing but a heep on the ground of wood, fake product and rubble. His petrified face watched as the crowd dispersed to other stalls, casting snide glances over their shoulders--his reputation would be ruined to all of the other sellers by sundown. He’d been undone.

His attention snapped to the runt still standing in place, amusement dancing like fire in her eyes--a surly grin marking her face of a huntress that’d just devoured her prey.

“I’ll… I-I’ll ruin ya fer this!”

“With what?”

“I.. I have men--”

“Who I can buy.”

“I have sponsors--!”

“Who I can buy.”

“I have f-friends! I--I have family!”

“Who I can buy.”

“I have protections!!”

“Did you naught saeh you wheah boahn and raised ‘eah? Everehthing in Ul’dah can be bought, bahtahed and sold. Even you.”

His expression crumpled, both hands coming up to catch the hot tears that rolled down his face. What was he going to tell his wife? Their daughter? How would they survive? What was he going to do--what kind of man would he be if they had to be out on the street? Beg? Beg like the rest of them?

C’arha could see his worry, watch the life drain away from him while he steeped in his own truth and she let out another long--tired sigh. “‘Ow about this--I’ll give you a discount, since you wheah so kind to give me one. ‘Ow does that sound?”

He perked up, lifting his face from his hands right as C’arha leaned down to whisper into his ear the truth of his salvation! All he had to do was listen to her, do what she said and he’d find mercy! He’d find--

He’d find--!

“Stahve.”

Honey and poison.