#AND BE HISTORICALLY ACCURATE

[achillean-knight]

2023 is the year of gay knights and I'm LIVING FOR IT

[skankhunt44]

[berrryparfait]

take my cock, milady ! ˖𓂃 .⚜ ݁˖

♥︎ ︎ featuring: servant! caleb, sylus, zayne, rafayel, xavier x countess! fem-afab!reader

— ༉‧₊ᐟ premise: you are the beloved countess of a prosperous noble family, cherished for your innocence and grace. but no one is perfect, for in a secluded room at tonight’s social ball, something rather ungraceful is unfolding…

❝ but—we're not allowed! it's improper—! ❞

— ༉‧₊ᐟ tags/cws: [nsfw] pure smut, regency au, piv, creampie, indecent / semi-public exposure, dubcon, classist / sexist sentiments, forbidden attraction

— ♫₊ᐟ soundtrack: wildest dreams (from bridgerton s1)

✧ a/n: inspired by the lewd royal manhwas they don't allow on the naver webtoon app (and bridgerton, ofc) <3

It’s social season again.

You…dislike it. The wide, blinding smiles with little behind them, the stuffy ball gowns with far too many frills, the uncanny conversations about the weather you’re forced to endure… It’s all so tiring.

Here you are, in your poufy designer skirts, growing more anxious by the second. Your pink lace corset is squeezing the life out of your lungs. It wouldn’t be the most admirable display of manners, but you could really use some time alone right now.

You enter one of the empty study rooms down the busy hallway, suffocated and overwhelmed all at once. But what you don’t expect is your freshly-hired servant to follow you in…

“Are you quite alright, Milady?” You startle, surprised to hear another voice in the room with you. Male. Oh no. “Yes, yes, I’m just fine. Thank you, Caleb.” You politely request some peace and quiet, waving him away with delicate, gloved fingers. Let’s just say, it would be less than ideal if someone were to catch you alone in here with a man. A playful grin plays at his lips, and you freeze. How have you not noticed his ravishing good looks all this time? “It seems to me that you’re in need of a little release. A beautiful maiden like you must be…frustrated.” You pretend to misunderstand him, though you know perfectly well what he means. He’s right—being cooped up in the manor all day has left you dry, in every sense of the word. Heat pools in your core, though you try your best to ignore it. After all, it isn’t proper for a noblewoman to be consulting her servant on intimate matters like these.

His breath warms your cheek as he steps infinitely closer, and the throbbing between your legs intensifies. “Let me handle you, Milady…” he whispers, soft and alluring. Your body leans into his, even as your mind screams at you to shove him straight to the heavens.. His hands are on your hips, bunching up the fabric of your skirt— “This is improper— We can’t—” But instead of pulling away, you let yourself succumb to his ministrations, lost in the wonderful feeling of his searing touch on your skin. He’s planting wet kisses on your neck now, gently pushing you up against the wall as you sigh and wonder if anyone outside can hear you. “You’re wet for me, Princess,” he muses as he reaches a skilled hand between your legs, his thumb brushing against your nub of nerves. A small squeal leaves your lips. “Shh shh shh, they’ll hear us…” He pushes your skirt all the way up to your waist before freeing his large, erect cock, angling it so that the tip rests just between your folds. Your mouth hangs open as he pushes his length all the way into your sex—the first long, delicious glide of his dick along your walls like releasing a breath of relief. You fail to suppress a tortured moan, and he chuckles against the curve of your neck.

His thrusts are slow at first, unhurried. But then his grip on your waist tightens and your pussy clenches in response, the blinding pleasure overwhelming you. Distantly, you remember this man is your servant—a man without status or recognition—yet here he is, fucking you into oblivion at a ball with your back against a priceless, likely stained painting. He groans into your ear and your whimpers come out louder, prompting him to press a hand to your mouth and muffle your cries. “You’re going to go back out there…and act like nothing happened… You hear me?” he grits out between pants, holding your thigh up to pound into your cunt with unforgiving force. You come undone. Hot, sticky cum fills you to the brim while you shake and spasm like a hummingbird, the most euphoric sensation washing over you.

By the time he’s pulled out and gathered his composure, you’ve only just smoothed down your unruly mess of hair, your legs still trembling as you attempt to straighten your skirt. “Alert me whenever you’re in need of a little fun, Milady. I’ll make sure you never forget how it feels to be wanted again.” He winks at you, and your heart stills. His cum is still dripping down your legs when you return to the ballroom.

“Well, you look awfully pale, Milady.” You bristle at the deep, husky voice, unaware someone had followed you in. “Relax. It’s only me. I came in to check on you,” he pauses, examining the sleeves of his uniform. “Am I right to say that you’re a little…wound up right now?” He says it with concern, though a teasing lilt punctuates his words. “Sylus, we can’t be seen here together.” You say, panic rising in your throat. What will people think? What will your family say? Rumors spread like wildfire in high society—it won’t be long before your reputation is irreversibly tarnished. He merely snickers at your urgency, low and ominous. The smirk on his face is telling, though you don’t want to know what it is he’s trying to tell you. He steps closer to you, towering over your ribboned head with an un-servant-like ease.

Sparks ignite in your belly, a strange, filthy feeling that leaves you wanting more. His gloved hand brushes the side of your face as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “I happen to know all the ways to satisfy a lady…” Your eyes flutter as he loosens your corset, every inch of your body responding to his touch. “The pleasure I’m capable of providing… Aren’t you tempted, Kitten?” And even though you know it's wrong, and you know it’s unbecoming, and that you’ll probably regret this the second it’s over, you breathe, “Yes…” He hums in response, trailing soft licks and kisses down the side of your neck as he wrenches your corset apart. Your plump breasts spill out, and his pupils dilate, his gaze fixated on your bare chest like an animal watching its prey. Hickeys bloom across your shoulder as his fingers twist your nipples, eliciting squeaks of surprise from you that only fuel his desire. “I’m going to bend you over, and you’re going to stay quiet. You hear me?” he orders, and you nod pathetically. As much as you hate the thought of submitting to your servant right now, the growing arousal between your legs is too much to bear.

You get on all fours on the carpeted ground, hoping to god no one walks in. The door doesn’t have a lock—it’s entirely possible for someone to stumble upon you like this. Impatient, he rolls your skirt up to expose your rear, and you shudder as he pulls your knickers down to your knees. “Wait— What if someone walks in—” But your protests are silenced by his rock-hard cock sliding into your pussy, the feeling of his girth stretching you from the inside sending waves of suffocating pleasure to your head. It’s obscene, the squelching noises echoing through the room as he plunges into you so fast and hard you see stars on the ceiling. With every thrust, his balls slap against your clit, and your eyes nearly roll to the back of your head. “Sylus— Slow down— I’m going to—” You moan into your elbow as he slams into you from behind, grunting and swearing under his breath as his cock swells.

Warm cum bursts from his engorged tip, the thick, viscous fluid leaking out of your pussy like syrup funneled from a tree. You collapse onto the floor, utterly spent. You were wrong—you don’t regret this one bit. “You’re free to take my cock whenever you’d like, Milady. After all, I do live to serve you.” The sardonic grin on his face nearly has you coming apart all over again.

“Is something the matter, Milady?” You recognize that voice. It’s your new servant, Zayne—the younger one. He isn’t supposed to be in here. “You looked a little pale earlier, so I took it upon myself to accompany you.” Your heart warms at his display of concern, though it does little to ease your distress over the situation. A woman must not be in the company of a man unchaperoned. “Can we speak outside?” The worry in your voice is clear. He walks up to you in an attempt to console you, his stride cautious. Right off the bat, you’d identified Zayne as “bright”. He’s hardworking, earnest, and never meddles in other people’s business. Today must be an exception. “Allow me to offer my help, Milady. I believe I know just the way to soothe a lady’s nerves. It’s…textbook.” Your stomach drops. He’s going to defile me��right here in this room! The indecency of it repulses you, yet you don’t head for the door. Your feet are rooted to the ground, completely helpless as his icy gaze travels the length of your body.

Gently, he guides you down onto the wide couch, settling you on his lap with a care that makes your breath hitch. “You’re my servant, Zayne—” But your efforts are futile. He’s dragging his hand along your thigh, his touch scorching hot as your skirt hikes up with it. You’ve never felt such powerful sensations before. It’s intoxicating. He reaches under your knickers and, with his thumb, begins to draw small circles on your most sensitive spot. You whimper in response, slickening almost instantaneously. How embarrassing..! “Does this feel good, Your Grace?” Your eyes respond for you, half-lidded and needy. It isn’t long before you’re grinding on his leg, chasing that sweet friction you now desperately need. Is he doing this on purpose? Drawing it out for your benefit?

He doesn’t torment you for long. Withdrawing his hand from between your legs, he pulls his pants down to his ankles and his twitching, hard cock springs free. You gape at the size of it, wondering if it’ll even fit. But that wicked, aching need in your core only grows stronger with every second that passes; the idea of him barely fitting sounds… To put it plainly, you're willing to do many unladylike things in this room right now. And though every last brain cell is telling you to get up and leave while you still can, you slide onto his cock anyway. It tingles so wonderfully where you’re connected in his lap—you give in to your body’s desires and bounce on it. “Faster, please—” he groans as you fuck yourselves silly on the couch, keeping your pace as best as you can and crying out each time his tip hits your sweet spot. People might hear us… you think anxiously, yet somehow your pleasure only heightens, the mental image if you and your servant fucking like rabbits in a room that doesn’t belong to you so thoroughly demented.

His dick throbs inside you, and your walls flutter. You both struggle to muffle your cries as he pumps his thick seed into your cunt, every part of your shaking so violently you nearly fall off his lap. “I sincerely hope that was…effective, Milady. Judging by your body’s response, I’d say you’ll be satisfied for a while. But when that satisfaction eventually fades…” His dick is still snug in your pussy, and you feel your walls tightening again. “Eventually” may come sooner than he thinks.

“Tough crowd, Milady?” You gasp and spin around. What? “You look like you’re about to faint.” Your new servant, Rafayel, stands by the closed door, a curious expression on his face. “I-I’m fine. Could I have some privacy, please?” you stammer, flustered. It isn’t acceptable for a lady to be hiding away at a social event like this, let alone with a male servant. So many things could go wrong. “Why? Don’t you think it’d be in your best interest to let off some steam?” He smirks at you, coy and sensual. There’s a hidden edge to him you’ve never noticed before—it’s making your knees weak. He tosses his gloves onto the floor and approaches you, slowly. Darkly. He looks like he’s about to give you orders.

“Face the wall. You’ll do as I say, won’t you?” He’s lust-drunk, hazy and hungry at the mere sight of you. The command—along with the aching throb between your legs— offends you, and you spit, “I am a noblewoman, excuse you—” “You’re a woman. And we both know you’re wet for me…” he whispers, sending shivers down your spine. Your body involuntarily arches against his, and he chuckles sadistically. Silently, you start to pray. You don’t know exactly what it is you’re praying for, but it involves his hands all over you and your mouth on his— Your sinful thoughts shock you, yet you’ve never longed for anything as miserably as you do this. Fresh arousal dribbles down your inner thigh as he corners you against the wall. At a loss, you glare at him defiantly. “You’re a nobody—”

You’re spun around and pressed up against the wall in an instant, the outline of his cock pressing against your ass. A started whimper leaves your lips as he nips at your earlobe, sharp and angry. “You’re gonna regret all that mouthing off, Princess,” he snarls, and your toes curl in anticipation. In one sudden movement, his pants are on the ground, and your skirt is pushed up to expose your ass. He shoves your undergarments to the side and thrusts his length into your sopping cunt, a firm hand restraining yours to the wall. The pleasure is euphoric, foreign—each jerk of his hips sending you into a mindless daze. His breath warms your cheek as he groans, and in the heat of the moment, he seizes your mouth, hot and hurried. “I think I’m going to—” But you choke on your words as a strained moan erupts from your throat, his dick hitting the ceiling of the sticky space inside you. What would the other nobles think if they saw you like this; all whiny and pathetic while taking your servant’s cock?

With one final thrust, ropes of cum drench the walls of your pussy, and the feeling of coming undone around his cock is indescribable. He grunts as he pushes his seed deep into your heat, his grip on your waist never loosening. Though you loathe to admit it, you needed that. You cling to his strong arms as you descend from your high. His voice is possessive, sinister when he says, “You’re mine. I don’t care who stands in my way. You’ll always be mine.”

“I couldn’t help but follow you in, Milady.” Xavier? What on earth is he doing in here? “It’s come to my attention that you haven’t been feeling your best tonight.” He’s naturally reserved and a bit on the no-nonsense side—you know that much. Surely he’s only here with good intentions. “No worries, Xavier. Just needed a little breather, that’s all.” His icy blue eyes lock on yours, and your breath catches in your throat. He looks…unconvinced. “Don’t look at me like that,” he murmurs, averting his gaze. Like what? There’s no one else in this room. Could he be…in heat right now? You frown at him, wary, and make your way to the door.

A hand reaches out to grab you by the elbow, effectively stopping you in your tracks. “What—” He pulls you into his embrace, his breaths short and labored. “You’re not leaving this room, Milady. I need to have you here.” He unties the ribbons holding your corset together, his fingers fumbling with urgency. You’re too stunned to move, yet you don’t yell at him or push him away. Heat pools in the pit of your stomach, an ache begging to be soothed. Your perky breasts are freed in an instant, swaying in his face before he latches onto your nipple and begins to suck at it like a man starved. The wet, sloppy licks of his tongue cloud your brain, and your pussy clenches. “Xavier, wait—” you protest, but he’s sucking on your other nipple right now, and your words die in your mouth. He’s clearly skilled, but you still can’t wrap your head around it. This servant of yours—a quiet, modest boy—is driving you to tears by suckling on your tits.

“Do you want my cock?” he asks, suddenly arrogant and crude. You nod obediently and let him pull you down onto the floor, shivering as he frees his hardened length and pushes your legs apart. You’re so wet it’s embarrassing, but it only seems to encourage him. He removes your knickers and presses his tip to your folds, the friction making your hips roll upwards. “Be patient,” he orders, and you nod once more. Slowly—torturously so—he inserts himself into your tight heat, making sure you feel every inch of his cock rubbing against your walls. You moan his name and flush hot, unused to the feeling of being this naked, this vulnerable in front of a man. He’s pounding into you seconds later, unable to hold back himself. Thrust. Thrust. Thrust. His control is slipping, and you’re paying the price for it. You feel so full, so dirty with his cock between your legs, like you’re committing an unforgivable sin that will bar you from heaven forever. But you don’t care—this is heaven to you. This is pure, inexorable bliss.

His movements stutter, and he blows his load deep into your cunt as you fail to muffle your screams. Your pussy spasms hard, your juices leaking onto the carpet in an obscene puddle. Can’t—stop—shaking— He helps you up, his hold around your waist steady. “I apologize, Milady. I-I couldn’t resist.” You stare at the cum gliding down your calf and consider making him your personal servant.

— ⋆˙⟡ ©berrryparfait

《 please do not copy / plagiarize / translate my works or publish them on any other platforms. 》

[manichewitz]

sinners is like the perfect horror movie to me because it’s simultaneously an unironically good, well crafted film, but also just a little camp. it’s a beautiful homage to blues music and it’s importance in black culture, it’s a metaphor for the long-term impacts of colonialism, it’s a challenge to the idea that hoodoo & other forms of black spirituality are dangerous, it’s a story about love and grief and human connection through music—and also a racist vampire does irish step dancing threateningly into the camera

[hyunpic]

come with me let’s escape now

[starzknight]

Continuing my "semi historically accurate Disney princesses" series with rapunzel

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

[cherim0ya]

he’s just whimsical like that

[ochiody]

average odysseus experience

[isabellaofparma]

Besides, you'll be by my side, right? Till the bitter end.

Alexander the Great and Hephaestion in Alexander: The Making of a God (2024)

[i-love-dragons-so-much]

Shade from the Night

New, one-off AU where Wyldfyre ends up in the land of monsters instead of the wildlands. Kai saves her from a monster and loses his arm in the process. Her colour however has yet to fade, and Kai is fighting even harder in order to get her out before she becomes grayscale as well.

I enjoy throwing children at the traumatized man.

[marzipanandminutiae]

every time a man assumes I'm a tradwife type because of how I dress, I just want to be like "at any given time it's been an average of three weeks since I last shaved my armpits. sometimes longer"

[dresshistorynerd]

Historically Accurate Jasmine

Another remake! I remade Jasmine for my series of "Historically Accurate" Disney Princesses. I honestly don't like the first version of Jasmine I made five years ago. It's not well drawn, I don't like the design, it doesn't look Jasmine and I incoherently mixed elements from different time periods. I also made some embarrassing blunders in history while explaining my thought process, since back then I was much less familiar with the history of Middle East and India. So I definitely wanted to redo her.

Research and references under the cut!

I do like Aladdin a lot, but let's be real, it's a very Orientalist film. Orientalism is the colonial lens through which the west looks at Asia and North-Africa, or the so called "Orient". It's dehumanizing and fetishistic lens - the west at the same time despises and covets the "Oriental" body. The "Orient" is flattened as one single entity and it's all savage and exotic, backward and mystical. Orientalism is fueled by jealousy and entitled superiority. In Aladdin it's very visible in how the setting blends a lot of very different Asian cultures, flattening large parts of a very diverse continent. It's set in sandy desert, but a lot of the elements of dress especially are much more Indian in aesthetic. Certainly fitted bodices and exposed stomachs are not practical clothes in a desert climate. The characters too are frequently exotised and fetishised with most female characters including Jasmine dressed and posed to appeal to the colonial gaze that covets brown bodies. Jasmine is sexualised much more that any of the white Disney princesses.

Originally the story was going to be more focused, though I can't imagine it ever lacking in Orientalism. It was supposed to be set in Baghdad, but during the production the First Gulf War happened, so they tried to distance it from the original Iraqi setting by setting it to the fictional city of Agrabah. Would there have been less Indian elements? Probably. It is pointed that in the wake of American forever wars in the Middle East, to not cause a stir Disney elected to make the movie more Orientalist. Orientalism was the inoffensive option.

Deciding on the historical setting to ground the redesign in was not simple considering the mess that the movie's setting is. One Thousand And One Nights is a collection (or many collections) of Islamic folktales from Northern Africa to Central and South Asia. So India (especially Mughal India ruled by Muslim dynasty) wouldn't be an incorrect setting and certainly neither would Middle East. The problem is that the film seems to imply there's no meaningful difference. Rather than trying figure out what is the most fitting place and time period for the film, I looked to the origins of the story of Aladdin. Apparently Aladdin’s story was added to One Thousand And One Hundred Nights by a French translator in 1709. He got the story from a Syrian-born Maronite storyteller, Hanna Diyab, who might have come up with the story himself. Most of Syria (at least Aleppo where he was born) was at the time part of Safavid dynasty Persia, so I decided to set my version of Jasmine in 17th century Persia.

I basically based the design on the illustration from 1702-3 by Mu'in Musavvir first below. The more fitted and tailored style with wider skirt likely influenced by European fashion it represents became fashionable in mid 17th century, so it still fits the time period I'm aiming at. The colour is simply perfect for Jasmine and I really like the overall desing. I did look at other art as well to get a better understanding on how the cut of the dress works, so here's couple o more references: second one is "Two Lovers with a Servant Woman" from 1696 by Mu'in Musavvir as well, third and fourth are details from paintings in the Chehel Stoun palace in Isfahan from 1646. Eyebrows grown together was considered especially beautiful feature so of course I gave Jasmine brows like that.

I of course gave her a crown, since she's a princess and depictions of Safavid princesses seem to always have a crown. I found that usually in art women had a white veil with their crown which is why I made her veil white, even though with the scarf band, which was the more typical headwear for women, colourful veils seemed to have been much more popular at the time. The veils in 17th century were also very long. For the crown and jewelry I wasn't as concerned to be using references from mid to late 17th century specifically, since these tend to change slower than other fashions. I based the crown mostly on the first illustration below from c. 1600 by Muhammad-Sharif Musawwir of a Seated Princess and the earrings on the second illustration from c. 1540 by Mirza ‘Ali of a Seated Princess with a Spray of Flowers.

Most of the images I found on this very useful blog which had gathered A LOT of Persian illustrations and paintings in handy timeline. A lot of the information of Safavid fashion I got from this MET Museum write up by Nazanin Hedayat Munroe.

[thefakebernadettebanner]

Happy Tudor Pig Tuesday

[marcus-junius-brutus15]

reasons to kill caesar (in order of importance):

he slept with my mother

hes a dictator

Cassius doesn't like him.

[sansculottides]

pisses me off to no end when people on reddit or whatever complain that the show wouldve been better off without the tuunbaq.....did we watch the same show? the tuunbaq is everything, it held everything together. the tuunbaq is the main transformative element of the terror. the tuunbaq elevates the text beyond mere historical fact and lets it say something about the expedition's broader context of imperialism. it hunted the british men who were trampling on its home as a mere stopover, a side casualty, to finding the northwest passage (for, you know, "trade with china" after britain beat china into submission after the imperialist opium war). silna couldnt complete a proper ritual with it because of the british men - just as british colonizers have historically intruded and disrupted the practice of indigenous culture. and in the end the tuunbaq dies, after all the injuries it's taken from the british over the course of 10 episodes and finally chokes to death on the worst of them. because there's no escaping the reality of colonial history, and there is especially no fantastical escape for the colonizer. there's no proper way for us to move forward otherwise.

good historical fiction doesnt have to limit itself to accuracy - it needs empathy to draw out meanings in history using literary craft. thats what the tuunbaq means to me.... if you wanted a straight depiction of historical record, just go watch a documentary.. TUUNBAQ DENIERS DNI