#rites a loose series | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tightjeansjavi · 10 months ago

Text

The Rite of Movement | part four

“so move me, baby”

A/N: so like the little slut that I am…I was kicking my feet and giggling at my desk yesterday while writing this 🤭 I surprise myself with just how filthy I can get, woo doggy! Please read the warnings and if this isn’t your cup of tea, just scroll on by baby love! No harm 💗 thank you to my bug @strang3lov3 for the moodboard!! I love u so much & a big thank you to @itsokbbygrl for betaing 🥺

~word count: 6.4k~

Summary: you meet Tommy Miller for the first time, and he takes you for a spin ;)

Pairing | pornstar!joel x pornstar!tommy x pornstar!female reader

Warnings: smut, fluff, established relationship, Joel is in his 40’s, reader is in her 30’s, mentions of alcohol and smoking, consent, unprotected piv, fingering, pussy play, f!masturbation, semi-public sex, reader and Tommy fuck and Joel’s into it, amateur porn video in the back of Tommy’s truck, language, filthy talk, praise kink, daddy kink, over stimulation/fucked out, light degradation (by Tommy but in a sexy non-offensive way), dumbification kink (endearing), readers nickname is baby love, reader has no physical descriptions, reader, Joel, and Tommy, are sexually liberated individuals, NSFW, +18 minors dni! Please let me know if I missed anything!

playlist🎧 series masterlist

“Joel…” you trailed off, picking at a loose thread on your denim skirt absentmindedly. “What if your brother doesn’t like me?” You questioned in an unsure tone.

He turned to face you, leaning over the dashboard while he rested his elbow along the steering wheel, “baby love, you ain’t got nothin’ to be worried about with my brother, okay? Think y’all are gonna get on like a house fire.” He winked in an attempt to soothe your budding nerves. “What about meetin’ him is gettin’ ya all worked up? Talk to me, darlin.’”

He gently grasped your bare knee in his big, warm, palm.

“This is going to sound so fucking stupid, Joel. But what if he finds me annoying—repulsive? I always get nervous when I’m meeting new people. I’m surprised I didn’t completely shit a brick when I first met you for instance.” You stifled a nervous laugh as you looked over at him.

He gave you that warm reassuring smile of his, dimples peeking through as he gently squeezed your knee. “Y’all are gonna get on just fine, ‘Kay? And listen, between you and me, Tommy and I—we uh—we discussed the possibility of the three of us filmin’ somethin’ together at some point. Now, there ain’t no rush for any of that, okay? Last thing I want to do is make you feel uncomfortable or pressured to get along with him.”

Your pupils dialated, thighs clenching inwards at the prospect of fucking…Tommy? Holy fuck—was this real life?

“You, and Tommy—fucking me?” You spluttered out, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. There was no denying that Tommy Miller was a real hunk, with the personality of a horny golden retriever. He was the complete opposite of Joel, but that intrigued you nonetheless.

“Only if you’d be interested in that, baby love. You don’t gotta decide right now, okay? Tonight’s all about you. If you’re feelin’ my brother, I want you to act on it only if you’re comfortable. He’s a real looker, but I’ve made sure that he’s a good Texas gentleman.” Joel reassured you as he was silently trying to gauge how you were feeling thus far based off your body language.

“And you’d be okay with him and I…?” You trailed off, meeting his gaze as you reached for his hand on your knee, interlocking your fingers through his.

“Of course I would be. I’m not gonna get weirdly jealous or possessive if you want to fuck my brother, baby love. That’s why I wanted to have this conversation with you ahead of tonight, because Tommy? He’s interested, but I told him to let you feel it out, and to not spring it on ya right away.”

He watched the subtle clench of your inner thighs, your pupils blown wide and your lips parting. He knew you were turned on by the prospect of fucking his brother, and your arousal inherently turned him on as well.

He dropped his forearm from its resting spot along the steering wheel and brought his hand to your other knee where he proceeded to coax your thighs open just a tad. You didn’t need much coaxing at all as your thighs naturally parted open, thoughts running wild.

“Look at me, baby love.” He rasped, rubbing soothing circles into the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. “Is the thought of fucking my brother turnin’ you on, darlin?’ Ya drippin’ all pretty for him already?”

“Fuck.” You breathed out, eyes rolling back into your skull. Joel had barely even touched you yet, and you were leaking like a damn faucet through the gusset of your thin panties. You could feel a droplet of your arousal drip down and create a wet patch through the fabric. Your eyes met his, lower lip harshly taken between your teeth, pupils darkened like an oncoming storm, blown wide like a doe’s.

“I never thought the possibility of fucking your brother would arise, Joel. It’s like—a fantasy coming true.” You breathed out, head lolling to the side, “I think he has such a nice fucking cock.”

Joel preened, leaning the upper half of his body further over the center console as his fingers trailed closer to your covered core. He could feel you pulsing already, the anticipation of being touched igniting a fire in your veins the closer his fingers drew nearer.

“A fantasy come true, huh? You think about my brother a lot, baby love? S’okay if you do. Got yourself all worked up now…almost creating a mess on the seat with how fuckin’ wet your pussy is gettin’, baby.”

You whined out his name, letting yourself fully succumb to your depraved thoughts of fucking Tommy. Your brain felt fried, imploded to complete mush, and yet your Joel didn’t show a lick of judgment towards your arousal. In fact, he encouraged it and therefore you had no reason to feel shameful.

“Why don’t you get me all ready for him, Joel. C’mon baby, please. Play with me a little. Play with my pussy while I think about fucking your brother’s cock, Joel.” You shamelessly shifted your hips towards his hand, chasing his touch with unabashed desire.

He checked the time on his watch, a coy smirk playing on his sinful lips as he looked over at you, “Think we can afford to be fashionably late, baby love.”

Joel and Tommy’s local watering hole was exactly how you expected it to be: not the classiest, and certainly not your first pick, but if Joel were any other man, you would have hightailed out of there. But this was your Joel, and his warm palm guiding you to a booth that was tucked away in the corner. You were grateful for the outfit that you chose to wear for the evening could grant easy access. And with the residue of your release still coated between your thighs, you felt the trepidation and anticipation of what was to happen when Tommy would inevitably show up.

The thought had you buzzing all over again as you found yourself tucked into the wall seat of the booth, Joel’s hand finding purchase around your bare thigh as he leaned in, the tip of his aquiline nose brushing against your pulse point.

“Want anythin’ to drink, baby love? Or just water for now?” He rasped low and deep, sending goosebumps rising on your skin.

“Tequila, on the rocks.” You purred out your request, gripping on the edge of the booths worn leather for dear life.

“‘Kay, baby love. One tequila on the rocks comin’ right up.” He pressed a sweet kiss to the side of your face, leaving a whiff of his cologne and musk on your skin.

You watched as he slipped out of the booth and made his way over to the bartop, sleeves rolled up revealing broad, tan, forearms. His fingers that had only just been plunged deep into your pulsing cunt twenty minutes ago, were now casually flipping through a stack of twenties.

“S’cuse me, ma’am. This seat ain’t taken, is it?”

You peered up from your phone at the sound of the stranger's all-too familiar voice. A deep Texas drawl straight out of a western film, paired with two dark espresso colored eyes, a broad nose, and a head of dark, luscious curls that fell in ringlets.

Tommy fucking Miller, and that shit eating smirk of his that sent your thighs clenching together in tandem.

Holy—I need a glass of water.

“Oh, no. It’s not taken. Please, sit down.” You gestured to the empty seat across the booth with a nervous smile.

Tommy slipped into the booth with ease and reached behind his ear and pulled out a single cigarette, twirling it between his fingers before he placed it between his lips. He reached across the booth's table, hand outstretched in your direction. “Y’must be my big brother’s baby love. M’Tommy, the hotter Miller brother. It’s a pleasure to finally meet ya.”

You blinked, registering in your brain that Tommy Miller was in fact sitting across from you and looking like a goddamn snack nonetheless.

You reached for his hand, shaking it firmly, “charmed.” You grinned.

“Damn. And she’s polite too? My brother got the whole package with ya huh, sweetheart?” He chuckled smoothly, shaking your hand a moment longer before he retracted his. “Y’don’t mind if I smoke do ya?”

“Oh, no. Of course! I don’t mind.”

He nodded, reaching into his pocket and pulled out his lighter, lighting the cigarette with ease before he leaned back against the worn leather cushion, stretching his arm to rest along the backside of the booth, long fingers stretched out—flexing.

“Where’s the son of a bitch anyway?” Tommy asked casually, the lit end of the cigarette dipping downwards between his lips.

“He’s right here.” Joel had returned with your tequila on the rocks, and two glasses of neat whiskey. He slid one over to his brother with a small nod. “And you can’t smoke in here, Tommy.” Joel reminded him as he slid into the seat next to you.

“Says who? Doreen don’t give a damn.” Tommy quipped back as he reached for his glass, tipping it in yours and Joel’s direction.

“That’s cause Doreen’s got the fattest fuckin’ crush on you and that big head of yours.” Joel scoffed against the rim of his glass taking a sip before he turned his attention towards you. “Gotcha a water as well, baby love.”

“Who the hell you callin’ a big head, huh?” Tommy wiggled his eyebrows playfully and grasped the cigarette between his two fingers, replacing it with the rim of his glass as he took a sip. “How’s y’all’s evenin’ goin’ so far? Gettin’ into any trouble?”

“Believe I called you a big head, Tommy.” Joel chuckled, letting his free arm gently drape across your shoulders, squeezing them gently as you took a sip of your tequila on the rocks, letting the liquor burn down your throat and warm your stomach. “S’goin’ pretty good. First time baby loves been here, ain’t that right?”

You didn’t register that Joel was talking to you, his voice sounding fuzzy in your ears as you took a bigger sip of your drink. “What?” You questioned softly, being brought back down to earth when you felt his warm palm gently squeeze your shoulder. The heat rose to your cheeks fast and you cleared your throat, turning your face to the side to hide how flustered you were.

“Whatcha ya gettin’ all shy on us for, sweetheart? You don’t gotta do that with us. I swear, I don’t bite, unless ya want me to.” Tommy said with a coy wink.

“She’s just a lil’ bashful is all, cause on the way here she was—”

You cut Joel off, squeezing his bicep firmly in your palm. “I’m gonna head to the bathroom really quick, okay?” You kissed his cheek sweetly, and before he could even get up from the booth, you were slipping past him when you saw an opening.

Joel and Tommy both watched as you quickly walked to the nearest bathroom before they looked back at one another. Tommy took a long drag of his cigarette when Joel spoke again,

“She’s got the hots for you, little brother. She made a goddamn mess all over my fingers on the way here cus’ she was thinkin’ about your cock.” Joel said in a hushed, low tone.

Tommy’s brows raised as he leaned over the table, resting his cigarette off to the side. “Fuck. Y’serious? Goddamn. She make a mess all over the seat too? Bet she fuckin’ did.”

“Mhmmm.” Joel hummed, leaning back against the seat. “She told me that you have a nice fuckin’ cock.” He chuckled, shaking his head to the side before he leaned forward, “Now, when she gets back here after composing herself, I want you to flirt with her a bit. Let her come to you, okay? Y’gotta play nice with her, Tommy. She’s a sweet thing, and I know y’all are gonna get along jus’ fine.”

“Good god.” Tommy said lowly, holding back a groan. “You hit the fuckin’ jackpot with that one, Joel. I’ll play nice with her, scouts honor. Y’know I’ll take extra good care of her.”

“I know you will. She jus’ couldn’t believe it when I said that you and I discussed the possibility of filmin’ a video with her. Absolutely blew her fuckin’ mind with that one. But god, she looked so pretty all flustered and turned on thinkin’ about the two of us fuckin’ her.” Joel reached for his glass, swirling the amber liquid around and took another slow sip.

“Fuck, I bet she did look goddamn gorgeous like that. You got yourself a real filthy and nice girl, Joel. A man’s fuckin’ dream, you lucky son of a bitch. Don’t think I’ve ever seen your grumpy ass smile that much in my whole life. It’s refreshin’ seein’ you grinnin’ like a sinner in church.” Tommy chuckled warmly.

Joel preened as he thought about you. “She’s really amazing, Tommy. She’s been so supportive and brave, and we’re having so much fun with it. It’s been so long since work has felt fun, you know? Who’d’ve thought fucking would get old.” He chuckled with a small grin playing on his lips and a flush rising on his cheeks. “Never really met anyone quite like her, honestly.”

“Goddamn. Who’s in here choppin’ up the fuckin’ onions, huh? Fuck. You’re in love with her, ain’t ya? That’s amazing. I’m seriously so fuckin’ happy for you, Joel.”

“Fuck.” Joel said suddenly, feeling his heart lurch in his chest. “Shit. Yeah—I think, I think I am in love with her. It’s not too soon, is it? I mean—we jus’ we get eachother. I’ve never felt more comfortable with another person before. She gets me, Tommy. The real me. She sees my heart before she sees my job, and no other woman in my life has ever seen me in that light.” He sniffles, feeling tears prick the corner of his eyes at his emotional confession.

“Yeah, you got the love bug bad, brother. Really, really, bad. But y’know what? I know you ain’t bluffin’ about this one either. You’re speakin’ from your goddamn heart. I hear it in your voice, and that’s a beautiful fuckin’ thing, Joel. Cus’ if anyone deserves love in this world, it’s you. So you keep holdin’ onto that, ‘Kay?” Tommy said earnestly and reached across the table to gently squeeze Joel’s shoulder

“Shuddup, Tommy. Or you’re really gonna make me cry.” Joel chuckled through his tears, quickly wiping at his eyes. “I’m gonna keep holdin’ onto her for as long as she’ll have me. I’m hopin’ she’s endgame for me.”

“I reckon she will be.”

After you splashed a bit of water on your face and gave yourself a detailed pep talk in the women’s bathroom, you finally mustered up the courage to face Joel and Tommy again. Joel had reassured you in the car that nothing had to happen right away. He always wanted you to be comfortable and this was something that you were still getting used to. The idea of someone caring about you that much? It used to be unfathomable .

You never realized just how good it could get until you met Joel Miller. You were hoping that he would be your endgame too.

After taking one last glance into the mirror you left the bathroom with a new confident stride as you approached the booth. Joel greeted you with a warm and reassuring smile, and when he went to get up, you gently placed your hand against his chest, easing him back down onto the leather seat before you slid in beside him.

Tommy gently nudged your ankle with the toe of his boot, testing the waters with you and heeding Joel’s words to let you come to him.

“Y’feelin’ alright, sweetheart? Can we getcha anythin?” Tommy asked softly, brown eyes looking warm and inviting across the way.

“I’m okay.” You reassured him with a small smile. “It was just—getting really hot in here.” You said with a light laugh to ease the tension.

“Tends to happen when you’re feelin’ flustered.” Tommy added as he leaned in over the table. “Y’know, sweetheart,” he started, “S’okay if I call ya that?”

You nodded, reaching for your glass and took a quick sip.

“I watched one of your films the other day, and I gotta tell ya, you have some real talent. Not jus’ sayin’ that either. I mean it. You’re gorgeous, and I jus’ wanna let you know that there’s no pressure or anythin’ alright? We don’t even gotta do anythin’ tonight if you ain’t feelin’ up for it.”

Joel leaned in close to you then, warm whiskey coated breath kissing your skin as his arm gently wrapped around you, giving you a squeeze.

“Wouldn’t believe how good that pussy is, brother. Like nothin’ else you’ve ever had. Never wanna have another, truly.” He preened, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

Your thighs clamped together immediately and you could feel the corners of Joel’s lips upturn into a small grin.

“Don’t doubt that for a second, Joel.” Tommy nodded and ashed his cigarette along the rim of his empty glass. “Sweetheart, you’re such a natural, babygirl. And I have no doubt in my mind that you’re gonna become a star.”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks from both Joel and Tommy’s words and if you were already on your way to hell, well—you just bought yourself a first class ticket!

“You really think I’m gonna be a star, Tommy?” You leaned forward against the table to match his energy, feeling yourself gravitating in his direction.

“Absolutely.” He nodded. “Now, Joel here wants me to take care of ya for a little. Y’okay with that, sweetheart? He’s gonna sit here nice n’comfy if you wanna—”

You were already up from the booth, reaching for Tommy’s hand in a haste and pulling him down the aisle and towards the door of the bar.

Tommy stumbled after you, his palm warm in your grasp as he followed you to the door. But being the gentleman that he was, he held the door open for you, letting you walk past first before he followed suit. “Where do you wanna go, babygirl?” He rasped against your ear, broad arm swooping around your waist, pulling you flush against his side.

“Your truck.” you said confidently, slipping your hand into the back pocket of his dark washed jeans.

“Fuck. You wanna make a mess all over my seats too, babygirl?” He reached for his keys, twirling them around his fingers.

Goddammit, Joel. You thought.

“Did he tell you that?” You squeaked out, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

“He sure as fuck did, sweetheart. He also told me that you think I have a nice fuckin’ cock.” he chuckled, guiding you towards the direction of his parked pickup truck.

“Well, you do have a nice fucking cock, Tommy. And while your brother was playing with me earlier, all I could think about was you and your cock fucking me.” You lowered your voice when an unsuspecting couple walked past the two of you.

“Mmm. I knew that you were a little freak under all those nerves, babygirl. Gonna take real good care of you, okay?” He pressed a kiss to the side of your head, letting his hand curve around your hip. He was thankfully parked in a secluded spot in the lot where people would really have to pay attention to even see the debauchery that would soon be taking place.

He unlocked the back door for you, but before you could climb in, he gently pressed you back against it. “Before I fuck your brains out, I jus’ wanted to let you know that even though you’re consentin’ now, you can change your mind, okay? It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve gone with blue balls, babygirl. I want you to enjoy yourself and if you end up not wantin’ to continue, jus’ let me know, ‘Kay?” His words were genuine like Joel’s, and as much as you appreciated them, you were going to lose your mind any second now.

“Tommy, respectfully, thank you. Disrespectfully, I’m not sure how much longer I’m going to last without your cock stuffed inside of me.” You breathed out, letting your hand drop from the side of his truck and palm him through the tight confines of his jeans. “Please, fuck me.”

That’s all it took for Tommy to surge forward, his hands coming to rest on either side of your head as his lips met yours in a bruising kiss that was all tongue and teeth, very different from Joel’s style but you fucking loved it already and wasted no time to wind your arms around his neck, carding your fingers through his thick curls, giving them a good firm tug as he reached around you to pull the door latch open.

He bit down teasingly on your lower lip, tugging it out before chasing the kiss once more. “Get that sweet ass of yours in the backseat, babygirl” he mumbled against your lips and quickly pulled the door open.

Your lips detached from his for a moment only for you to climb into the backseat, falling onto your back as you blindly reached for the hem of your shirt and yanked it over your head.

Tommy was between your legs in seconds after the door slammed shut behind him. His hands grasped at your thighs, spreading them open and positioning your calves to rest over his shoulders. He had a direct view of your covered cunt, a fresh new wet patch blooming through the fabric that sent him grinning like a devil.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart. You that wet already? Those little panties of yours are practically ruined, babygirl.” He tsked under his breath as he situated himself as best as he could on his elbows. “Can you show her to me, baby? Show me that pretty pussy.” He nipped at your exposed inner thigh, dragging the stubble along his jaw against your skin while keeping his eyes locked on yours.

“I almost thought about touching myself in the bathroom when I was in there.” You let out a soft sigh as you dragged your hand down over your bare stomach and underneath the hem of your skirt. You looped your thumb around the outside of your panties, pulling them to the side revealing your puffy, soaked cunt to Tommy’s lustful gaze.

“You shoulda, babygirl. Little slut like you probably needs it all the time, huh? Fingers, a cock stuffed in you, a mouth on that pussy?” He chuckled with a grin. “Spread her open for me, sweetheart. Wanna see all of her before I fuckin’ ruin you.”

You let out a soft whimper from his words just as a droplet of arousal dripped down from your opening and slid down between your cheeks. You used your middle and forefinger to delicately spread yourself open, playing with your arousal that began to coat your fingers, and you couldn’t help but slip one finger in before slowly pulling it back out.

“Is she wet enough for you, Tommy? Maybe you need to give her a taste. See how wet she is for yourself.” You encouraged him with a subtle grin.

“Mmm. Try daddy, babygirl. Think you can call me that? You’ve got such a pretty pussy. My god. She’s already making a goddamn mess all over the seat. Go on and play with yourself for me, sweetheart. I wanna watch.”

“Oh, fuck. How did I already know that you were into the daddy kink?” You giggled softly while your fingers began to play with yourself in a teasing motion. You lightly played with your clit, letting out a soft moan as you dragged your fingers lower, teasing your entrance before slipping two fingers in. “Oh, fuck, daddy.” You moaned, watching him with hooded eyes as he began to palm himself through his jeans.

“That’s it. Good fuckin’ girl. Such a good little slut playin’ with her pussy for daddy. Gettin’ her all nice and ready for daddy’s cock.” He preened and reached for his belt buckle, undoing it so he would have a bit of relief. “You okay if daddy takes a video of this? That way you can watch it later and remember just how good I took care of you, babygirl.”

You nodded enthusiastically as you began to shallowly pump your fingers, curling them inwards before slipping them back out. “Of course you can take a video, daddy. It’ll be your souvenir.” You shot him a playful wink.

“Fuck. You’re really a naughty little slut, babygirl. Touching yourself in daddy’s truck. Gonna have to get it detailed after I’m done with you.” He snickered and reached for his phone and pulled it out of his pocket. He typed in his password quickly before opening the camera app. “Smile for the camera, babygirl.” He angled his phone towards your face and you responded with a cheesy grin, fingers working over your clit to keep yourself stimulated.

“Daddy’s here with his newest slut and her pretty pussy that’s going to be stuffed to the fuckin’ brim with daddy’s cock soon.” He brought his phone down between your thighs getting a good view of your fingers playing with yourself. “Drippin’ all over daddy’s fuckin’ seats like the naughty little slut that she is.”

“So fuckin’ wet for you, daddy.” You moaned, holding steady eye contact between Tommy’s phone and his face. “Show me your cock, please. I want to see it.”

“Ask and you shall receive, babygirl.” He shot you a wink and popped open the button of his jeans followed by his zipper. He pushed his jeans down over his hips along with his boxers. Your eyes went wide for a moment when his cock sprang free and slapped up against his taut stomach.

Tommy’s cock may have not been as thick as Joel’s, but it was longer, and curved at just the right angle.

“Get on all fours for me, baby girl.” He requested while he wrapped his fist around his cock, giving it a few languid strokes from base to tip. You couldn’t help but watch as he spit over the bulbous head, rubbing in his saliva for extra lubricant as you worked your skirt and panties off, tossing them into the front seat before you flipped over onto your stomach, situating yourself on your hands and knees.

“Well, if that ain’t a sight made in fuckin’ heaven.” He whistled and grabbed a handful of your left ass-cheek, kneading the soft flesh between his fingers before he gave it a good smack, watching it recoil back as you lurched forward, looking over your shoulder at him. Your pupils were blown wide, lower lip harshly taken between your teeth as you rocked your hips back towards him.

“Please fuck me, daddy.” You arched your back, wiggling your ass in a tantalizing motion just as he brought his hand down over your right cheek in a swift motion eliciting a surprised yelp to slip past your lips.

“You want daddy’s cock that bad, huh? Such a desperate little slut wantin’ to be stuffed full of daddy’s cock.” He slapped your left cheek then before he let his hand drift upwards against your spine, and to your shoulder blades. He gently pressed you further against the seat so that your back was arched even more.

"gonna stretch you out, gonna be ruined for anyone else." He growled against the shell of your ear. “You’re gonna be daddy’s favorite fuckin’ slut when he’s finished with you, babygirl.”

And then you felt the head of his cock press against the seam of your dripping cunt, teasing your folds and bumping against your neglected clit. “Look at you already creamin’ all over daddy’s cock. Barely even inside of you yet, sweetheart.”

You lurched forward when you felt him begin to press you open inch by inch till he was bottomed out with his hips pressed firmly against your ass. Your mouth fell open in an ‘o’ shape as he set an immediate punching rhythm that knocked the air from your lungs.

“Oh—oh fuck!” You moaned, listening to the lewd sounds of skin on skin slapping together. The squelch of your pussy and his heavy, guttural grunts as he pounded his hips into your ass over and over again.

“God, you're such a slut, babygirl. Daddy’s perfect little slut. You give it this good to all the boys, huh? God, your pussy is huggin’ me so goddamn tight.” He groaned out, almost forgetting that he had his phone in his hand still as his forehead came to rest upon your upper back. He slowed his thrusts down momentarily so you could catch your breath and he could check in on you.

“You good, babygirl?”

“Mhmm. Never better.”

He ground his hips against your ass, rolling them forward so you could feel all of him inside of you. Just when you had a moment to catch your breath, he picked the pace up once more and tossed his phone to the side so he could wrap both arms around you, yanking you back against his chest.

"such a whore, babygirl. Workin’ your way through our whole family, aren't you?" He whispered against the shell of your ear, biting down on it with his teeth as he fucked up into you at a new angle.

One hand groped one of your breasts while the other rested along the base of your neck. He was careful to not apply any pressure and get too caught up in the moment. He could feel your pussy fluttering around him, squeezing him like a vice with each pull and drag of his cock. Your eyes were shut in bliss, unabashed moans slipping past your lips as the coil in your belly was pulled tight.

The windows in Tommy’s truck had significantly begun to fog up from the steam that your activities were producing. And despite the discreet location that Tommy was parked in, you couldn’t help the rush you felt when you thought of the possibility of someone—or even Joel catching you and Tommy in this position.

Would he join right in? Fuck—

“Daddy—don’t stop, please!” You cried out, feeling that coil being pulled even tighter as your thighs began to tremble, and tears flooded your eyes: tears of overwhelming pleasure.

“That’s it, babygirl. Such a good fuckin’ cockslut for daddy. Good fuckin’ girl. You gonna come all over daddy’s cock? C’mon! Wanna see you fuckin’ coat me, sweetheart. Come all over my fuckin’ cock.” He snapped his hips forwards then, feeling his own release begin to catch up to him, but you always came first. Tommy would never let you, or any of his girls, not come before him.

He dropped one of his hands from your breasts to thum at your already sensitive clit to push you right on over the edge as you cried out his name, pulsing around his cock and seeing stars dancing behind your closed eyelids.

“There you go, babygirl. There you fuckin’ go.” His tone was much softer now as he slowly slipped out of you, his cock gleaming in your release. He gently flipped you over onto your back, cradling your face delicately in his big hands.

You had a cockdumb look on your face. Completely blissed out and in a whole other world. Your thighs fell open, as your own release drooled down the the seam of your fucked out hole and onto the interior leather seats. In this relaxed position, your pussy let out a squelching sound of air being released, causing you and Tommy to both laugh.

“Fucked her pretty good, didn’t I?” He chuckled to himself and pressed a kiss to your sweaty forehead. “You okay if I take a little look at her, babygirl? I wanna see the mess you made.”

“Mhmmm.” You hummed, lashes fluttering shut as you stretched your arms behind your head in a languid, relaxed movement.

Tommy reached for his discarded phone bringing it back down right over your still pulsing cunt as his fingers gently spread you open, sliding through the milky residue of your release.

“Fuck. So pretty, babygirl. You have such a pretty pussy.” He leaned down and pressed a light kiss to your clit, getting just a little taste before he pulled himself back up. “Definitely gonna have to get my truck detailed after this, sweetheart.” He ended the video, falling back against the seat beside you to catch his own breath.

You let out another soft, cock dumb giggle, peeking one eye open to look over at him. “You really think my pussy is that pretty, Tommy?” You dropped one of your hands to lazily rest along your stomach before dipping it between your thighs, missing that stimulated post-orgasm feeling already.

“Baby, she’s so fucking pretty. Like seriously I could happily watch you play with her for hours and easily get off to it.” He tilted his head to the side to look over at you, grin playing on his lips. “How are you feelin’?”

“Mmm. Joel loves to watch me play with myself too. Guess it’s just a Miller brother thing, huh?” You winked with a giggle. “I feel fucking amazing, Tommy.” Cock dumb and satisfied, you thought.

He preened at your response, resting his arms along the backseats as he let out a relaxed sigh. “Good, baby. I’m real happy to hear that. Means that I did my job right. And what can I say? Joel and I are big pussy lovers.” He chuckled and reached for his phone, texting Joel that they would be back shortly, and attached the video as well.

“Yeah, you guys sure are.”

After about twenty minutes, Tommy had to physically help you to sit up and redress. Your entire body felt like jello and you were still positively fucked out. He helped you out of the backseat, keeping his arm wrapped around you for support as he guided you back inside to the booth.

“Easy now, babygirl. Back into my brother’s lap you go. You just cuddle up with him now, ‘kay? Pussy took a real poundin’, let her rest.” Tommy cooed softly against your ear as Joel gently eased you into his lap, letting you bury your face into his neck and lazily wrap your arms around him.

“Mhmmm.” You mumbled against his neck, face scrunching up as you breathed in his natural aroma while he pressed a kiss to the side of your head, rubbing soothing circles into your back underneath your shirt.

"Did such a good job, baby love. Tommy showed me how sweet you were to him, let him feel how soft and warm you are, hmm? My good girl. Here, baby, I got you water. Need you to take a sip, you worked hard out there." Joel murmured softly to you.

“It was so much fun. Tommy was so good to me, baby. He thinks I have such a pretty pussy.” You softly giggled and blindly reached for the glass of water, pulling your face out from where it was pressed against his neck to guzzle the liquid down before cuddling right back up against him.

“I’m happy to hear that, baby love. I knew y’all were gonna hit it off. M’so proud of my girl. And yes, baby. You do have a pretty pussy. Rest now, ‘kay?”

You were out like a light then all curled up in his lap like a koala without a care in the world.

“Whatcha do to her, huh? Got my baby all cock drunk, Tommy.” Joel asked softly, reaching for his fresh glass of whiskey and took a small sip, careful to not disturb you.

Tommy was back across the booth, a new cigarette between his lips and his arms crossed behind his head in a relaxed position.

“Took ‘er for a real good spin.” He grinned, tapping his fingers along the worn, frayed leather. “Gonna have to get the truck fuckin’ detailed though.”

“That so? She make it all messy?” Joel asked.

“Fuck. Yeah, she made it real messy alright. Had her drippin’ all down the seats.”

Joel grinned at this, glancing down at your sleeping form in pure adoration and pride. “Mmm. I believe it. She’s always fuckin’ drippin.’ Doesn’t matter what time of the day it is, my baby love is always soakin.’”

“That right? Pretty slutty cunt like hers always ready to have a big cock in her, huh?” Tommy stifled a chuckle as he sank further against the seat.

You thought you were just having a wet dream, until your hand found Joel’s and discreetly tucked it between your thighs, pressing the pads of his fingers against your ruined cunt that was pulsing once more. Little needy breaths slipped past your parted lips when he gently began to play with you, understanding that you were silently asking him to make you come one more time. You kissed along his neck, open mouthed with little nibbles here and there as you came in his lap, falling back into a relaxed state.

“Okay, think I gotta get my baby love home and in bed. She’s gonna sleep so good tonight.” Joel softly announced as he nudged you gently.

“Oh, I reckon she will be. You take good care of her, Joel. And text me when y’all are home safe, ‘kay?” Tommy nodded in Joel’s direction.

“You know I will, Tommy. I’ll text ya when we’re home.” He gave his brother a little nod and helped you out of the booth and towards the door. Once you were outside, the fresh air seemed to help you wake up a little more as you leaned all your weight into his side.

“You’re so beautiful, baby love. I’m so thankful for you, y’know that? You did so fuckin’ good. I’m so proud of you, so fuckin’ proud of my girl. Let’s get you home, okay? You’re gonna sleep so good tonight.”

“I love you, Joel Miller.” You murmured into his shoulder, one arm draped around his middle for support. You may have been cock dumb, and completely fucked out, but you words were true. You loved Joel, and he deserved to hear it.

“I love you too, baby love. My beautiful, beautiful girl.”

Banners made by the lovely @saradika-graphics 💗

Please follow @tightjeansjaviupdates for fic updates and notifications

614 notes · View notes

fullfriendnerdclutch · 8 months ago

Text

Can I just re-titled it as Rites: Songkran hahahaha, this is a great work dude @alienpossession excited to see more locations

Ethnographic Research: Part 2 (Songkran)

It's the biggest holiday of the year for Thai people. Songkran, or Thai's New Year, usually make Thailand filled to the brim with tourist from all over the globe that wanted to experience the festivities. It's crowded, it's loud and it's wet, the whole country especially Bangkok seemingly have no concept of sleeping during the duration of Songkran.

The parade last the whole day, and the party last even longer, creating this illusion of endless party as all of the people seemingly rejoiced the New Year.

So, it's only normal for the Mother Ship to capture that brimming energy from its scanner and deciced that two of the researcher should land in that spot since human seemingly packed the place, especially the very lively Bangkok

The 2 Xarthans should've landed close to each other for easier coordination after the takeover, but due to the technical issues to the pod, it diverted one of them from the planned landing spot.

So while this one comfortably slipped itself into the body of this fit hunk named Gun while he just finished dipping in the swimming pool and getting ready for a full day of partying, the other one have to struggle through the crowded city as it tries to make its way to the designated meeting spot

The less luckier Xarthan decided that the only way he can go undetected with this insane crowd of people is to blend in. It found itself landed near this giant plastic drum filled with water in the backyard of a random house so it dipped itself into it and started to break itself down into microparticles. The splash from the 8 feet tall alien entering the water drum must have alerted the human inside the house as he quickly checked on the drum to find nothing out of the extraordinary. Then, more men swarmed the water drum and revealed the gun-like items they bring with themselves. Not long after, the Xarthan found itself split into 5 water guns belonged to 5 different men, and if the visuals they watched in the Mother Ship turned out to be true, this is actually a perfect way for it to get into more human

---

While the Xarthan that landed on its designated spot already blended in and partied his ass out with everyone in the middle of the city, the adventure just started for the separated Xarthan, now also split into 5 different water gun. Aside from the glimpse it spotted earlier when those men peered into the water drum, it basically have no idea how the men looked like. But it didn't take long for it to finally started its spread as it found itself suddenly having multiple vision. The water shooting has started, and everytime a spritz of the infected water landed in these bodies, that body turned into a vessel right after the water particles slipped into the body either through the navel, the slit of their cock or asshole or even right through the orifices in the human face.

The takeover were quick and almost seamless, the human rarely felt anything as they considered it to be as simple as water trickling into their body. But when that sharp jab of takeover sealed their fate, they usually flinched but that meant it was too late for them to stop the process. The main Xarthan constantly emitted this transmission to keep all the new vessels in check, and they quickly converge in-between themselves so they are not scattered across the crowd. They would abandon whatever original plan of their vessel or the companion that they went together with, or even more sinisterly, grabbed their companion so their companion could also be shot by the infected water gun. What makes the festivity turned out to be a potent way to find good vessel other than the raucous water spray is the fact that for a lot of the time, people shoot water to others that they find attractive or likable, so no wonder that in just below 30 mins, the separated Xarthan found itself ended up controlling multiple different attractive bodies, and not just limited to local people as some of it ended up in tourists bodies too as Bangkok usually flooded with thousands of tourist during peak season like this.

When the sun eventually sets, the newly-minted vessels arrived altogether in front of the main party gate for the festivities. It can sense that the fellow Xarthan is already inside the party ground, so all of the different bodies started to swarm the gate to get themselves inside. Some of the vessels already have the tickets to enter the party ground, but some other unlucky ones decided to take matter into their own hands, either jumping into another host or even takeover security details or the staffers of the festival.

With more than 30+ bodies under control, it should've been an easy search. But the crowd, nearing 40,000 and counting, made it quite a challenging work as the vessels tend to get distracted by random groping and playful kisses landed to them. Eventually, the security details managed to find Gun as their bigger bodies plus the uniform managed to convince the partygoers to give them way. Upon eye contact, Gun playfully winked at the three securities that eyed him, knowing full well its his brothers split particles inside the securities body. Gun then used his mind to telepathically subdued one of the security to join him for some playful fun while the rest of the vessels gathered. It's easy to do so since the split particles definitely weaker in comparison to them staying intact as a singular entity. The subdued security then give Gun a lift, practically letting Gun piggybacked over his broad shoulders. Then, the excited Gun emitted the signal so all the vessels from his brothers can gather around and they can have the best of fun all night long. He's about to be surprised on how many bodies his brother acquired, but for now, he just want to have fun and ride on the energy his vessel exudes

#reblog #male possession #alien possession #male vessel #rites a loose series

227 notes · View notes

ramblingoak · 6 months ago

Text

Naps With Copia

Nap #13: A Comforting Nap

*contains spoilers for Rite Here Rite Now*

For @littlemissemeritus who wanted a comforting nap with Copia after the events of the movie.

Copia x Reader

These are all stand alone chapters so you do not have to read one before the other! This series came from my post about wanting to nap with Copia all around the abbey. The stories will all have gender neutral readers and soft Copia naps.

Warnings: mentions of death of a loved one, a little sad but also hopeful, sfw, 700 words (thank you to @gothdaddyissues for the dividers!)

It was here, in the quiet of his old room, where Copia could be himself.

He didn’t have to hide his emotions and act like everything was alright. He didn’t have to try to prove himself to anyone. He wasn’t constantly looking over his shoulder, waiting for someone to point out something he was doing wrong. In here, in the room with the lumpy mattress and the lava lamp, he didn’t have to be Frater Imperator.

In here he was just Copia.

It had been two months since Sister Imperator’s death and his subsequent promotion. Copia was now leading the clergy, a job that he had been working towards for years. It should have been a time of celebration for him but how could you celebrate something that went hand in hand with the death of your mother? He had worked so hard to get to this point but you could see how even though he deserved his new title it was weighing heavily upon him.

The screen of his small television had been flashing ‘game over’ for some time now but Copia hadn’t moved. He was sitting still, his shoulders hunched forward and the controller dangling loosely from his hand. You placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, whispering an apology when he startled at the contact.

“Copia? Do you want to keep playing?”

“Huh? Ah, yeah. Yeah, let me start again.”

Despite his words he remained still, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared down at the floor. You rubbed his shoulder absently, sliding your hand across the red fabric of his hoodie until you reached his neck. Copia shivered at the touch of your fingertips dancing across his nape and you smiled when his eyes fluttered closed.

“How about a neck massage, Papa?” You realized your mistake as soon as you had said it, watching his face fall at the mention of his old title. “I’m sorry! Old habits. Forgive me, Frater.”

He turned his head towards you and you felt tears gathering in your eyes when you saw the look in his. A combination of exhaustion, sadness and regret, three things you never wanted him to have to experience. You lowered your head to rest your chin on his shoulder, smiling when you felt his lips on your forehead.

“Can you do me a favor, amore?” He kissed you again when you nodded your head. “Can I just be Copia in here?”

A few tears fell down your cheeks and you sniffled while you nodded again. He reached his free hand up to wipe them away before sliding a finger under your chin so he could tilt your head up. Copia kissed you then, gently but possessively. When he pulled away you cupped his cheek, keeping his face close and resting your foreheads together.

“You’ll always be Copia to me.”

“Bene, bene.” He kissed you again, this one quick and fierce just like the ones you’d get between songs when you hung out backstage. “Amore, can we give Miss Daisy a rest for the day? I had something else in mind.”

A few months ago you would have groaned and rolled your eyes, knowing exactly what he would suggest you both do next. But you knew that wasn’t what he would be seeking right now. You both had craved a different type of intimacy since he had become Frater Imperator. He gave you a grateful smile as you scooted back on his bed, adjusting his blankets and making room for him to lay down next to you.

It didn’t take him long to get comfortable, one leg pushed in between yours and an arm slung over your waist. His face was next to yours on the pillow, his breathing already slowing down despite the fact that his eyes remained open. You couldn’t look away from that mismatched gaze of his, so thankful that he felt comfortable enough with you to let his guard down like this. To leave whatever title he held at the door so he could just be Copia with you because at the end of the day that’s the only person you wanted.

Just Copia.

~ Naps With Copia series masterpost ~

If you'd like to be added/removed from the tag list (or if I accidentally left your name off) of this fic or any of my others please leave a comment or send me a dm! Thank you 💙

My Masterlist ~ My Archive of our Own ~ My Ko-Fi Tip Jar

#rite here rite now spoilers #ghovie spoilers #copia x reader #copia fanfiction #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost band fanfic #naps with copia #frater imperator

207 notes · View notes

thestrangeblob · 2 months ago

Text

okay so I've been seeing a lot of this "lucien didn't come to rescue elain because he was on a mission that she really wanted him to go to"

this argument is horrendously stupid for a few reasons:

fae males are supposed to go batshit crazy over their mates and if elain was taken captive and chained and gagged in a dirty tent fearing for her life shouldn't her "mate" show some concern for her? ofc we do see a male go feral to rescue her but thats another post :)

okay so poor lucien cant winnow long distances and was in the continent (not very leading man material but whatever) shouldn't he at the very least as elain if she was okay when he saw her the next time? show some relief that she's okay? but no, he doesn't even seem to have realised she was in danger

we know that mates can sense when each other are in danger a la rhysand's dramatic af entrance when feyre was having a breakdown on the aisle on her wedding day (he came ALL the way from night to spring btw) or when cassian was loosing his mind over Nesta in the blood rite.

so why did perfect dreamy lucien not show an ounce of concern over elain's kidnapping??? why was he in the continent trying fond another woman??? sureee elain says she saw a woman of flame in her visions (thanks to azriel for figuring out what she was seeing) but did sis say anywhere that she really wants lucien to go find this woman??? no it was something he did out if his own volition.

if he somehow did go on that journey for elain, because of elain shouldn't he have stayed by elain's side after completing his mission? should he have at the very least proclaimed that he accomplished what his mate desired? but no. he didn't. and he won't.

the ONLY male in the series that takes elain seriously and actually listens to her is a man clouded in shadows. a man who only finds peace and deprive from his darkness in his lovely fawn.

#elriel #antielucien #like c'mon now #can we at least make some tangible arguments?#elain archeron #azriel shadowsinger #pro elain #pro elain archeron #azriel archeron #pro azriel #pro elriel #acotar #i thought it was obvious

72 notes · View notes

pinkrosealice · 2 months ago

Text

A non-exhaustive list of art, pieces of media, franchises, authors, and thinkers that I really need my fellow Cultsim/BoH/Secret Histories fans to get into and discuss with me and between themselves.

(WARNING A LOT OF THE FOLLOWING RECOMMENDATIONS COME WITH A LIST OF CONTENT WARNINGS AND ARE SOMETIMES CONNECTED TO CONTROVERSIAL ARTISTS AND PUBLIC PERSONS. THIS LIST IS NOT A ENDORSEMENT OF ANY PROBLEMATIC IDEALS OR STATEMENTS MADE BY ANYONE MENTIONED IN THIS LIST AND IT IS HIGHLY RECOMMENDED THAT ANYONE WHO LOOKS INTO ANY OF THE MENTIONED WORKS OF ART DO THEIR DUE DILIGENCE AND THOROUGHLY CHECKS FOR DISTURBING / TRIGGERING CONTENT AT THEIR OWN VOLITION)

Film Recommendations:

1. Dario Argento's Three Mothers trilogy, especially Suspiria & and especially especially the 2019 remake of Suspiria. Very Dancer DLC-coded, very Sisterhood of the Triple Knot and Thunderskin.

2. The Magic Lantern films of Kenneth Anger, who was a practicing Thelmaite* for many years. Lantern Principal is obviously what comes to mind when you hear of the name of the series and the dreams that were mystical experiences that inspired and were expressed in art, in this case films is very much akin to stuff we see in Cultist Simulator.

(* As shown in later parts of this recommendation list I argue that the games of Weather Factory become even more interesting and artistically impactful if you learn more about late 19th and 20th century occultism and movements like Theosophy and Thelma.)

3. Hereditary and Midsommar are obvious recommendations but even more so I would recommend the original 1970s The Wicker Man. Folk Horror in general is a great source of what the arts of The Bosk would look like in real life. They were definitely worshiping The Low Red Sun on Summer Isle.

4. A Dark Song, a 2016 horror film that actually revolves around the performance of a very famous and important real life occult ritual. I think a lot of the visual imagery in that film can give some inspiration for the kind of Rites our player character in Cultist Simulator is performing.

5. The Lair of The White Worm is a movie loosely based on a Bram Stoker story and is also very much a Gods of Stone overthrown by forces associated with humans raised to Divinity and the powers of the Sun and Apollonian principles type of story. Plus the whole Worm/Wyrms thing going on. I also recommend it because it's one of the more light-hearted and comedic entries on this list and I want some variation in tone. Also its psychedelic visuals compliment a lot of the surrealist elements that are tied to things like the Moth Principal.

6. Black Swan isn't explicitly supernatural but it is very Dancer Coded.

7. The Hellraiser movies, but only the first second, fourth, and the reboot. Leviathan, being associated with pain and pleasure and having the name of a mythical sea monster is probably very similar to whatever the hell The Tide was before The Red Grail vored her. The Cenobites are Long with Grail, Knock, & Forge as their Principals.

8. Pan's Labyrinth, for the Woods and the Bounds appreciators. I also think there is something to be said about the fascist subtext that underlines much of the Edge Principle, especially in The Colonel that can be explored and appreciated in this film and its reckonings with the evils of Spanish fascism.

9. To compliment the recommendation for the Magic Lantern films, also check out the short film The Wormwood Star, you can find it easily on YouTube and it's another piece of art heavily influenced by Thelma and stars Marjorie Cameron who I will talk about more later in this list.

Game Recommendations:

1. Hollow Knight, it might as well be a story set in the era of the Carapace Cross. Sentient bugs, mighty Wyrms and dream gods with the powers of light but not necessarily moral goodness. Even the Void in Hollow Knight, and it's antagonism to The Radiance is very similar to The Nowhere and it's relationship with the established hierarchies in The Mansus.

2. The Silent Hill games, particularly the entries that revolve around The Order; like 1,3, Origins, and Homecoming. Dream worlds, Sun worship, the Dark Feminine and female psychics/mediums with deep associations with blood, birth and menstruation. Valtiel is totally a Name. Even the fog and mist of Silent Hill is giving The Bounds and it's Forge smoke meets Woods darkness type energy.

3. Vampire The Masquerade Bloodlines, it's basically playing a Grail Long.

4. The tabletop games Geist: The Sin Eaters and Wraith: The Oblivion line up really well with the Ghoul / Medium DLC. *

(basically most if not all of the World of Darkness and Chronicles of Darkness tabletop games contain some themes, elements, or bits of World building that should appeal to anyone interested in the games created by Weather Factory)

5. The video games created by Korean studio Project Moon. Lobotomy Corporation has a lot of timers and simulation elements that have many similarities to those found in Cultist Simulator, and as the title implies Liberty of Runia takes place literally in a paranatural library just like Book of Hours even though the game play between the two is very different.

6. Fallen London and it's related media. The reasons why should go without saying. The controversies around AK aside, Echo Bazaar and Secret Histories are blood siblings and I desire more intersection and interaction between the respective fandoms.

7. The Bayonetta games have a surprising amount of real mythological and occult influence in their world building. The Solar Lumens juxtaposed with the Lunar Umbrans definitely has some resonance with Church of The Unconquered Sun and their on again, off again antagonism and allyship with The Sisterhood of The Triple Knot. The Apollonian natured House of the Sun contrasted with the Dionysian Woods & House of the Moo, and the Nowhere being connected to all three but being distinct; is not all together that different from the division of the Bayonetta universe into Inferno, Paradiso, the human world and Purgatorio between all of them.

8. The Shadow Hearts series of JRPGs are a Gothic, urban fantasy, historical fantasy, lovecraftian adventures around late 19th / early 20th century Europe and Asia. It has a lot of comedic elements and its world building and cosmology are not all that similar to the ones in Weather Factory games (barring their shared history as being inspired by Lovecraft). But if you want Lovecraft in video game form without the racism associated with his writings and you found Cultsim/BoH to fill that niche, then I recommend you give these games a try as well.

9. Secret World Legends, a functionally dead MMO but still incredibly fun to play and I think one of the best examples of urban fantasy / soft Lovecraft or post lovecraftian media in existence. Absolutely fantastic & memorable fully voiced NPCs and characters, really intriguing and rich world building and takes on mythology and folklore. Also given that you play as a quasi immortal with a deep association with bees and an ancient techno-organic goddess you're basically a Long.

10. To compliment the Lobotomy Corporation recommendation and the later SCP mention I think it's only natural that I also recommend the urban fantasy games of remedy entertainment like Alan Wake 1 & 2 and Control. Artists channeling / being used by Eldritch Forces in other dimensions and government institutions related to keeping a control on the supernatural are the most obvious similarities to stuff in WF games.

Visual Artists:

1. Francisco Goya, especially his Black Paintings, his insights into the witchcraft and folkloric traditions of the Basque region and elsewhere in the Iberian peninsula should be very appealing to fans of The Twins and The Thunderskin. Plus all of the Catholic imagery brings to mind The Mother of Ants.

2. Austin Osman Spare, Rosaleen Norton, and Marjorie Cameron. All three of these people were heavily influential occultists and illustrators/painters so their work is definitely a great representative example of the kind of occult art that you are making when you Paint in Cultsim.

3. Salvador Dali is also a relatively obvious, but I think very appropriate all the same recommendation. Surrealism is by and large the big big tonal influence on Secret Histories in my opinion. He also did a tarot deck so that brings in the Lucid Tarot connection

4.Erté, absolutely the kind of art and fashion you would find in Cultist Simulator's 1920's. Art Deco for days but also his works in particular show a more flowy and organic influence that we would more stereotypically associate with the Art Nouveau of decades prior.

Comic Books:

1. Alan Moore's run on Swamp Thing and Grant Morrison's run on Animal Man. DC's Red and Green (plus all the other elemental forces) are a deeply underappreciated and underexplored element of the setting, and I think they have a lot of similarities with the Principles we find in Secret Histories.

2. Related to the above, Alan Moore's Promethea and Grant Morrison's The Invisibles for an exploration of 20th and 21st century occultism. Despite the two authors general distaste for each other, their works are often very complimentary.

3. The Hellboy franchise doesn't have a lot of one-to-one parallels with Cultsim & Co. but they draw from the same artistic influences of gothic fiction, weird fiction, mythology and folklore and the occult. So I feel very strongly that fans of one would and should find the other to be enjoyable. Both fandoms need to be more active on this hell site and though there are a handful of quality hidden gems of fanfiction for both franchises I desperately need more people to be writing & reading fan fiction for both. Plus I do strongly believe that Mike Mignola' s art style would really excel at illustrating characters and settings from Secret Histories. His non Hellboy work is also recommended especially the works that fall under his Outervers setting, like Baltimore and Joe Golem.

4. Although I will admit that I am not up to date on it, and that there has been a considerable amount of discourse around the quality of its storytelling (especially within the past few years) I would recommend the webcomic Gunnerkrigg Court to fellow Cultsim fans. Alchemic imagery, interesting reinterpretations of folklore and a setting and tone that is quintessential British urban fantasy / science fiction, Gunnerkrigg is in my opinion a work that has a lot of appeal for fans of WF's games and stories.

5. Lackadaisy Cats is an awesome Webcomic and animated web series. 1920s/ 30s gangsters and bootleggers in the form of anthropomorphic cats! And absolutely beautiful Art Deco illustrations! What's not to love.........

Anime & Manga:

1. Any of the anime directed by Ryūtarō Nakamura especially Serial Experiments Lain and Ghost Hound(this one is seriously underrated in my opinion.) Surrealism is the name of the game as I've said earlier.

2. Le Chevalier D'Eon, both it's manga and anime even though the two are very totally different and have divergent takes on a similar premise. Historical fiction that reinterprets 18th century historical events through an occult lens is so very very Secret Histories. Plus both works have interesting explorations of gender and the nature thereof. It helps that as far as we know the French monarchy's Secret Histories equivalent are associated with the Hours, my personal headcanon is that Louis XIV was Lantern Principal aligned, and Louie XVI had Knock as his Principal. Also the manga version of the story has a lot of its magic system based around the Tarot.

3. You can't recommend D'Eon without recommending it's biggest inspiration (apart from Rose of Versailles of course) and that would be Revolutionary Girl Utena. Edge Dyads for days with that one. Utena and Anthy are totally The Twins. And the whole show and it's movie are full of surrealist pseudo occult imagery practically to the bursting.

4. Baccano! , a light novel / anime series that's about a bunch of immortal Mobsters in the 1920s and 30s. I mean that's basically The Exile DLC right there.

5. xxxHolic and Legal Drug / Drug & Drop, by CLAMP. A shop that grants wishes and a pharmacy that handles the paranormal are both the kind of businesses that I could see existing alongside Morland's, Oriflamme's Auction House & The Ecdysis Club. Plus both manga are hella gay and I will push my Weather Factory games are inherently Queer pieces of media agenda till the day I die.

Theater, Operas, Music and Albums:

1. Jimmy Page's unused soundtrack for Kenneth Anger's Lucifer Raising. Definition of Occult rock and role.

2. Kiki Rockwell, especially her two most recent albums Rituals on the Bank of a Familiar River, and Eldest Daughter of an Eldest Daughter.

3. Stravinsky's Rite of Spring might just be the closest we will ever get in real life to an occult ritual in the form of an entire ballet like we see in Cultist Simulator and Book of Hours. Definitely a skill that could fall under the Wisdoms of Birdsong and The Bosk.

4. On that note, Mozart's Die Zauberflöte is also full of Hermetic Elements, Lunar / Solar antagonism, mystical initiation and ritual deity impersonation. Mozart was a Freemason so the fanfic of him as a Heart Adapt practically writes itself.

Literally Fiction:

1. The webnovels Pact and Pale by wildbow. A magic system that revolves around incredibly hierarchical relationships between humans and mystical beings, where magic fundamentally requires discarding one's humanity and transforming into some kind of mystical being yourself is very similar to the Adapt to Long pipeline we follow in Cultist Simulator.

2. The Rivers of London series is one that I'm still familiarizing myself with but it's another example of wonderful British urban fantasy (that isn't the wizard books that shall not be named) The fact that the main characters of the series are magic police officers gives it a certain Suppression Bureau appeal.

Nonfiction- Philosophy and Occult works and Authors:

1. Georges Bataille!!!!!!!! If you only pick one thing from this list to investigate further let it be the philosophical works of this man. His theory of religion as it relates to concepts such as economy, sacrifice, and eroticism you literally completely change how you understand The Hours and The House Without Wall.

2. Aleister Crowley, and any of his students, especially Kenneth Grant. He really is the quintessential modern English occultist, whether or not AK and Lottie intended it, the DNA of his beliefs or those of his Golden Dawn contemporaries, or his students is all over Cultsim and BoH. The Red Grail is like, so blatantly Babalon it's kind of ridiculous.

3. The Book of English Magic by Phillip Carr- Gomm & Richard Heygate, is a good introductory source of information on the history of magical practice and occultism on the British isles.

4. Occult Paris by Tobias Churton is a fascinating insight into some of the mystical practices that were en vogue in Europe just a few decades prior to when Cultist Simulator takes place.

5. Atlas of Cursed Places by Oliver Le Carrer. I could totally see some of the places documented in this book as being locations you could send your Followers to in Cultsim.

6. Please read everything you can that is academically critical about Greek magical Papyri. There are tons of resources for reading translations and analysis of these documents that are some of the most foundational examples of what real historical magical belief and practice actually looked like.

Web Original Content, Podcasts, YouTube Channels and Tiktok Recommendations:

1. Greedy Peasant over on Instagram and tik tok does fascinating content related to Catholicism, medieval history and art, and other related topics. If you like all of the interesting reinterpretations of Christian religious iconography into sun worship that happens in Book of Hours I highly recommend his content.

2. The last few years have really seen an incredible ecosystem of academic scholarship on religion, mythology, occultism and esoteric philosophy develop on YouTube. Channels like Esoterica, Angela's Symposium, Let's Talk Religion, Religion for Breakfast, Jackson Crawford, The Modern Hermeticist, The Archaeology of Ancient Magic, and others are just overflowing gold mines of accessible and easily digestible but still academically critical and pseudoscience and conspiracy theory free information about mysticism historical occultism and esoteric religion and mythology.

3. There are also a number of great YouTube channels that aren't academically critical but are run by actual practicing witches and occultists and they offer fascinating and interesting insights into these same topics but from a lived more personal perspective which is just as important I think to learn about as the academically critical sources. Great channels include Benbell Wen, Maevius Lynn, Marco Visconti, & Nordic Animism.

4. In terms of fictional internet media, SCP is so broad that there's a lot of stuff that is completely different in appeal from what is enjoyable about Secret Histories, but there's also so much overlap. I need crossover fanfics and fan art more than air!!!!!

5. Lastly this is a fiction podcast so it's a little incongruous with the other nearby recommendations but, I cannot stress enough......... The Mangus Archives and Magnus Protocol!!!!!!!!!!!!! There are a lot of key differences between those two podcasts and Weather Factory games, but there are so many similarities that I have to write an entire three other posts about how similar the settings are and how I want to write a crossover/ fusion fic. I've seen like, one or two pieces of fan art and fanfiction that was related to both series but in my humble opinion it's not nearly enough. I really really really really really need Cultsim fans to talk more about Magnus and I need Magnus listeners to play these games soooooooo badly!!!!!!!!!!

Well that mostly concludes this piece of propaganda for the time being, will probably make another post with further additions in the not so distant future. Feel free to reblog this with any other pieces of media that you think would also be appealing to fans of Cultist Simulator and Book of Hours.

72 notes · View notes

fever-fluff · 1 year ago

Text

Part I - Quick as a Fox

word count: 2.3k (not proof read)

will contain spoilers for the ACOTAR series

“What could Rhysand possibly need that would be out here, Shadowsinger.” Lucien’s voice was thick with disdain, swatting another branch from the thick brush they walked through.

“Scared of getting you breeches a little dirty, Lucien? Doesn’t seem like you do well in the dirt.” Azriel’s sneer was no better, and the innuendo about Elain did not fly past Lucien so easily.

“Believe me, its not the first time I’ve gotten it on my knees, maybe you’d like to hear all about my time in the garden last week-” Lucien was quick to block the fist aiming for his gut, but it threw him off balance all the same, soft ground beneath him not much to grip.

Azriel came at him again, “Shut your filthy mouth, Vanserra.” Lucien just laughed at the male’s brazen behaviour towards the female he’d tried to snatch for himself. It had been months now since the last solstice, and the catastrophe of the necklace had caused a rift between Azriel and Elain that Lucien had, without regret, used to his advantage. Elain was mated to him, and he’d agreed to Rhys’ wish of not inciting a blood rite over the shadowsingers obvious display of disrespect.

He had not pushed Elain in the slightest with his affections, but he had made it clear they were there. And after finding a bitterness under all that façade of sweet, Lucien had coaxed it out. It turned out she had more in common with Nesta than they’d all first thought, and he relished in the fire when she let it out.

The two tumbled as they fought, both to engrossed in getting another blow to the others face when they stumbled down a concealed ridge. They had separated just as the reached the bottom, and went to got at it again until Lucien noticed what they’d fallen into.

“Mother above”

Azriel looked to what was behind him, sucking in a breath and the grove of statues they’d landed in. “What the damned is this place?” walking around, the two noticed now that they were not statues, but petrified bodies of fae of all kinds. Lucien stopped in front of a certain one, loosing a shudder as he recognised the face in front of him. “I can’t be…”

Azriel joined his side, analysing the kneeling figure in from of him. The arms were twisted as if two fae had hold of her while the magic took effect. A sneer crossed her features, and he felt a shiver as he though of what it might have looked like in flesh. There was pure hatred in those eyes, and the snarl of her lips was something that he’d only seen on the most animalistic of his kind. Though she looked to be high fae, with pointed sharp ears, her demeanour was something he’d place in a wild beast.

“We need to free her.” “Are you mad?!” Lucien had already turned and began sifting through his sack, pulling viles as he went. “Lucien, who the Hel is she?!” he started mixing different liquids together, the mixture turning all different shades of different colours too quick for Azriel to catch.

“Someone who may be able to help.” “Hah…?”

Before Azriel could stop him, Lucien poured the new potion on to the top of the statue, and waited as it took effect. It was a simple reversal but depending on the depth of the initial fae's magic when she had been petrified, the time to undo the curse was debatable.

So they sat a respectable distance apart, and watched the statue like hawks. The sun had started to dip in the sky by the time they noticed the stone slowly shift, and a pale complexion took its place. Her chest began to slowly rise and fall, and a flutter of her eyelids became stronger as the hours passed on.

The moon had taken its place in the sky, and both males had drifted off into the land of the unconscious until they heard harsh coughing. The statue, now skin, moved achingly while the faes body returned to normal. Lucien cautiously moved towards her with a canister of water, “Fox, its alright, we’re not here to harm you...” The slap of the canister from Lucien’s hand was quick and strong, too strong for someone who had atrophied for mother only knows how long now. What was even more miraculous was the speed she moved towards the brush to their right, finding a small stream to gulp out of heavily. Azriel made to move on her, but Lucien held his hand up as a signal to wait, “don’t spook her, unless you don’t like having limbs anymore.”

Once she’d had her fill, she turned her eyes to the two of them, and he could have sworn they flickered between a serpent’s slits to the fae oval. As she spoke, her voice cracked from years of disuse, but he could hear the power she could wield it with, “I suggest you both start talking before you have no more tongues to do so.”

Azriel’s responding growl was low, truth-teller now grasped in his hand as he etched closer to her, “you shouldn’t make threats you can’t follow through on, bitch. In your state, this is going to go only one way. With your throat at my bla-”

Too fast. Way too fast for someone only after waking from such a long prison did the woman lunge for Azriel, snapping at his wrist with both hands and knocking the knife from his hand. He didn’t have time to reach for another as her body morphed, twisting into muscle and scales, wrapping round his body and wings and tightening instantly. She’d wrapped the latter half of her body round him like a snake, leaving her upper body in the fae state and sneered when he choked for air as she squeezed, “what was that? Sorry, I cant hear you over your own spit.”

“Fox, let him go, please.” Lucien had backed up, hands in surrender. Her gaze moved to him, and the recognition that lanced through her eyes did nothing to ease the grip she had on Azriel’s body. “I never thought I’d see a child of autumn beg for the life of an Illyrian.”

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know. But the High Lord of Night won’t take it well if you kill his spymaster on my watch.” Finally, she eased herself off, and Aziel gasped for the precious air he’d missed. She’d put a reasonable amount of distance between them all, still on guard with how the serpentine part of her body coiled like a spring. Once he’d finally reached his feet again, she started looking for answers, “How long have I been asleep? How do you know who I am?”

“If my brother’s words are something to go off of, half a century, maybe more.” Lucien flashed her that goddamned smile, “I’m Lucien, Beron’s youngest son.”

That didn’t seem to placate her like he’d hoped, and Lucien wasn’t quick enough to move away from her attack. Talons retched from her fingernails, and she had him in her grip before he even had a chance to realise. “I suggest you keep his name out of your mouth, child, before I really do rip out your tongue.”

“He’s telling the truth, he’s a Vanserra.” Azriel wouldn’t make it in time to stop her if she made for his neck. She snorted, “And what makes you think I would believe a word that comes out of your mouth, Shadowsinger.” Shit, she’d caught on to his shadows. He pulled them back from the two, holding up his hands in the fashion Lucien had before. “You know who I am?”

“Everyone knows the little toy the High Lord of Night uses in his arsenal of weapons, though congrats on the promotion. Spymaster seems fitting for your type of… constitution.”

She’s turned her attention back to the redhead lying beneath her, “If you are telling the truth, my lord won’t be too happy if I slit this lovely, tanned neck of yours. So, I suggest you both stay where you are until I am far enough away to not turn back and change my mind.”

“wha-”

She was gone before the two could blink.

“What in gods damned was that, Lucien?!” Azriel’s anger was far beyond livid. But the autumn male simply stood, rubbing at his neck, still feeling the ghost of her claws on his skin.

“Her name’s fox. She’s been missing since before the war. One of the most dangerous fae Beron ever had under his control. He used to tell me stories of her, to scare me into going to bed.”

“And you didn’t think waking her would be a bad idea, considering she has no clue who you are?!” Lucien winced under his tone, “I thought she’d smell that we were related, nothing gets past her senses. But I suppose I really didn’t think…”

“Rhysand is gonna be pissed, you realise this?” Azriel started to pace. If they really had released something like that with no safeguards, nothing to stop her from returning to Autumn, they could be in for a lot more trouble with Beron than they first expected.

“Yea, I know.” The two made to go back to Velaris, winnowing silently.

Quick. Quick as a fox. You need to be fast, faster than anything that might catch you. His voice rang in your ears as you sprinted through the thicket, four paws pushing silently off the ground at each lurch of your body. Come on, fox. I know you’re faster than that. The hounds are going to rip you to shreds if they catch you, I wont hold them back. Gods, you needed to run. If you were still in the grove, that meant you were only one court away from Autumn, the winter court.

Sure enough, a border of ice and snow came into view, and the fur you wore changed from the fire red of his hair to the white of winter. They’d never feel you breach the border; animals came and went as seasons changed, even in the eternal courts. And your winter body would blend you into one of them long enough for you to pass through unnoticed. You’d run, run as fast as you could until you reached him.

Five hundred years you haven’t been watching from the shadows. Watching and waiting. You knew the day they took you he wouldn’t look for you. You had failed him, had gotten caught. You are my fox, quick and sly. But if you get caught in a snare, there will be nothing I can do to stop the hunters from claiming their game.

Hours had passed until you reached the land of Autumn, and your body returned to the red that you never forgot in your imprisonment. It was all you could remember of him, that and his cruel disposition. You had forgotten his eyes, but never the feeling as they landed on you with cold contempt.

You made for the cabin on the base of the mountains. You knew he’d keep it warded. And all you had to do was cross the threshold and he’d come for you.

Being encased in that stone should have turned you mad, but the hot anger you had been laced with for the change had kept you burning with sanity. You would be no good to him if you’d freed yourself and come back with no wits. So it had burned, for year upon year, until the red head idiot decided he knew who you were and released you.

He hadn’t smelt like Beron, you’d checked. Lady of Autumn, sure, but Beron was no where in his blood. You wondered what happened there.

The cabin was in sight when you felt your legs give out. Shifting back, you wobbled on fae legs to the front of the porch. But you couldn’t sit. If he came and couldn’t remember you, you’d have to make fast work at fleeing before he decided you were a threat to his oasis.

It didn’t take long for the beating of hooves and the pounding of paws to reach your ears. Light flickered in the distance, one lone torch among the forest of orange and yellow.

Standing steady, you raised your head as the face you’d forgotten became clear. Gods, now that it was in front of you again, you realised it had never left you. It haunted your dreams, your nightmares, and every waking moment you sat kneeling in that grove. You'd only forgotten that it was real, and not a figment of your trapped mind.

Nothing was said as the hounds came charging, ready to tear whatever decided to breach their master’s property. But the wave of scent you let wash over you had them stopping in their tracks. Now unsure of whether you were truly the threat they were first ordered to rid.

“State your business, before I am no longer lenient with my dogs’ lag.” He voice sounded harder than you could think to remember. You hated it, wondering what he'd done in the time you were gone to sound like that. But you bowed deep, knee hitting the wood beneath you in reverence, “my lord.”

You didn’t dare lift your head, couldn’t bear it if you looked up and saw nothing of recognition in his eyes. But the sharp inhale, small enough that only you would ever hear it, loosed the fear filling your chest. “Fox?” you smiled.

“It’s been a long time, Eris.”

#pro eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x reader #eris vanserra angst #eris vanserra #autumn court #acotar fandom #acomaf #a court of thorns and roses #azriel acotar #lucien vanserra #beron vanserra #high lord eris #high lord of autumn

226 notes · View notes

sombredancer · 9 months ago

Text

Recent visually beautiful and generally watchable Russian fantasy movies

(because I start forgetting they exist at all) Ironically, all of them are adaptations of books/comics.

I Am Dragon / Он — дракон (2015) This movie is a very free adaptation of the novel "The Rite" / "Ритуал" by Maryna and Serhiy Dyachenko (Марина и Сергей Дяченко). It's a reinterpreting of an ancient tale about a maiden, a hero and a dragon. I don`t like the novel because it's very postmodern, wracks the typical fairytale plot and hurts my escapist feelings by ugly reality, but the movie is pretty fairytale-ish and nice. Firstly, it is visually beautiful and represent Slavic pseudo-medieval lore the way it should have always been in Slavic fantasy.

Secondly, as a love story between a monster and a maiden, it has got A PLENTY of tropes I'm usually looking for in Chinese dramas, so I understand very well why it was pretty popular in Asia.

Thirdly, when I said it's visually beautiful I wasn't joking. The main hero is played not by an actor, but by a male model, who is shirtless all the time (and sometimes pantless) and has a very fit and good-looking body. It's something unbelievable that someone in Russia made a movie to please women's eyes! Really, it's insane!

The folk-rock band Мельница wrote an insanely beautiful song "Обряд" (The Rite) for this movie (more matched to the book plot, though), but it was never used as OST, which is a shame. The song is about a black sheep girl, who is denied by society and asks a dragon to come for her and to take her away, because the dragon is denied by this world just like her. You can listen to it here. The band also has a song "Змей" (The Wyrm) (based on Lev Gumilev's poem), which is more accurate to the plot of the movie: the wyrm kidnaps maidens to make them its wives, but they are all dying during the flight; at the end of the song a hero-knight is ready to shoot it in order to stop it. Listen to it here.

It ends with HE, which is better than the book's obscure ending, so it is pleasure for me to rewatch it till these days.

Major Grom: Plague Doctor / Майор Гром: Чумной Доктор (2021)

It is an adaptation of Russian comic series "Major Grom" by Bubble comics. I am traditionally not very happy with the source material, but it is very good reworked to be the screen play of this movie.

It's very beautifully made in terms of director's, cameraman's and screenwriter's work, which is a rare thing for Russian movies. Also, the actors are young and handsome, especially the villain, which is a rare thing not only for Russian movies, but for the current Western movies, too. It has got a lot of allusions to Russian reality and a lot of beautiful views of Saint Petersburg, the second capital of Russia and one of the most beautiful Russian cities. And it has got some unusual visual solutions that turn it into a comic it should be.

The plot revolves around a mysterious serial killer (kinda bad Batman), a black sheep police officer and Russian Mark Zuckerberg (kind of). Mark Zuckerberg is the best guy of this movie and I like him a lot! Серёёёёжа! 🧡🧡🧡

This movie wasn't popular in Russia because of political situation in the country by the moment of its release (the both sides found out in there something insulting for them and banned it), but even if it has something like that, I honestly didn't pay attention to it. It's just a nice blockbuster with a tragic and handsome villain. The villain also has got his own BL-drama (in the comics they are really lovers, it`s as obvious as it could be shown in a Russian comic).

By the way, the villain is hot, insane, ruthless, sensitive and suffering. How does he contain all of this character treats in one personality? you may ask. He doesn`t. He has dissociative identity disorder, I would answer.

I don`t know if it works by now, but some time ago you could watch this lovely movie on Netflix.

The Master and Margarita / Мастер и Маргарита (2024) This is a loose adaptation of Russian classical novel "The Master and Margarita" by Mikhail Bulgakov. I genuinely hate this book, but the adaptation reinterprets it, divides it into very interesting layers and makes it understandable and beautiful.

It`s layered, so it will probably be hard to understand what layer are we currently on if you are not familiar with the original story. The first layer is an ugly Soviet reality, the second layer is a plot of the novel that the main hero is writing, a story within a story. The third layer is the insane intertwining of the first two layers. On the reality layer the Master loses his job and freedom because of friend's denunciation and becomes star-crossed lovers with a married woman. On the novel level he meets devil, who visits Moscow by chance, and the devil gives him and his woman opportunity to live their lives being free from everything that usually tortures people IRL. Somewhere among those layers is a little plot about Jesus and Pontius Pilate.

The movie is visually beautiful. Although it feels pretty anti-Soviet, Soviet visuals of the movie are gorgeous. There were used the Stalin-times concepts of Moscow of the Future, the CGI buildings in frame came from the real architecture projects of those times. The Stalin Empire architecture style and views are typical for Moscow (but as I know, ironically, this all was shot in Saint Petersburg). It seems to me that this movie is heavily stuffed with visual allusions to the Western works: devil's escort looks like bunch of Pennywises, Margarita is Enchantress from Suicide Squad I, the scene of blood dripping is from Blade I etc. Usually, when I see it in Russian movies, it feels like plagiarism because I can recognize the reference but there is nothing except for these references . But here we have got the plot, so the allusions work as allusions and don`t irritate me.

The movie is dark, disturbing, uncomfortable. It really makes you feel as if you watch devil and his escort marching around you; they ravage, kill and destroy everything and you can only breathlessly, helplessly and in fear watch them. The German actor playing devil is insanely good. He stole the movie and I understand why it should have been named Woland (the devil's name) instead of the current movie's name. You may want to watch it, because it's very unusual in terms of plot and visuals experience, especially when you are not familiar with the book.

103 notes · View notes

fullfriendnerdclutch · 10 months ago

Text

Rites: Ramadhan Kareem

He's a very strong and mentally-focused guy for most of the time.

But it's not rare to caught him lacking or tad too exasperated for his own level in the past few days.

Eventually I found out that the new hunk I spotted everytime I visited this gym for the past 3 months is called Amir and he's observing Ramadhan as a devout Muslim adult. During Ramadhan, he's basically expected to fast from sunrise until sunset, so, quite like intermittent fasting but with religious undertone in it. That explains his shortened reps and the way his gym session moved from 7.00 AM to 6.00 PM in the past couple days. I wanted to have a try of that body for quite some times now but his mind blocked all my previous attempts. Now, with his weakened state of physique, sliding into his body is just so damn easy. Too bad for him, I slid into his body a bit too quick, so I guess I practically caused his whole fasting for the day went to waste as my takeover of his body pushed him out of it as he's some kind of jizz, and if my learning served me right, it's not allowed for them to masturbate when they fast. Well, he can replace it later, right? That's another thing that I read, but hey, it's not like that puddle of sticky, water-like substance of his consciousness ever going back in to this body LOL. My takeover is a one way traffic, and the only way he's going is to the drain while I'm going to enjoy this fine stud until I get bored and move on to the next body.

Oh right, have to take care of my now-dormant previous host in one of those shower stall. Have to call 911 for an emergency, that muscle ball of a wrestling jock served me well for the past 2 years and a half, the least I can do is to give him a rather proper departure out of this world

#male possession #male takeover #identity theft #rites a loose series

362 notes · View notes

imagineitdearies · 4 months ago

Note

Hey I loved loved loved your fanfiction as I’m sure everyone here did but now I, going through withdrawals I can’t find anything similar or as good as yours. So I’m curious what your favourite bg3 fanfiction are?

Hey there!! Awww, thank you ☺️ I sort of got super focused on writing PS for a while there, so I can't say I know of all The GreatsTM in this fandom. I will share what I have enjoyed/am currently reading though (almost all of it involving Astarion), but anyone else should feel free to add your favs in the comments!!

As always, please check tags and read at your own discretion!

Finished ones I've enjoyed:

Seducere by Tlon ~ Astarion/nb!Tav ~ Astarion doesn’t need a reflection to know himself – two hundred years of servitude has shown him exactly what he’s good for. Odd that his new partner seems to disagree.

Nothing is safe by foxflowering ~ Wyll/Astarion ~ "Wyll's the sort of prince-type I would have once dreamed of marrying. When I was about thirteen."

Carving through the dark by skitter ~ Astarion/f!Tav ~ Wren and Astarion descend into the Underdark in search of a new purpose, and learn a few things along the way. Namely, that healing isn't linear and sometimes love takes the long way round.

Astarion Origin Party Nonsense by starkraving ~ Astarion/Karlach; Astarion/Cazador, sort of Astarion/Wyll? ~ A collection of things that ostensibly happen in the same little mental universe. Loosely based on the events of an Origin Astarion run and the various questions it inspired. (All but one in the series is finished so I'm counting it, lol!)

All Our Missing Parts by Viraaja ~ Astarion/Halsin ~ Halsin discovers Astarion was turned before his maturity and all the sacred elven rites that come along with it. Including the sex one.

Friday Nights by SadinaSaphrite ~ Astarion/Gale ~ Professor Gale Dakarios loses his research, his magic, and his lover Mystra all at once and only has himself to blame. When he goes to drown his sorrows, he meets a pale stranger with mysteries of his own.

visions of your love by LargeOctahedron, notyournoise ~ Shadowheart/f!Tav ~ Shadowheart is tired of doubting - of feeling her heart twist whenever she looks at Tav without knowing whether they feel the same. One night, tired of sitting and hoping Tav will approach, she tries to read their mind, only to find them in a rather compromising position.

WIPs I'm following:

Palmarosa by thespectaclesofthor ~ Astarion/Raphael ~ Astarion is stuck in the darkness once more, yearning for sunlight with every fibre of his being, while bitterly reflecting on all the things that were denied to him. Raphael knows Astarion's desperate, and comes to him with not one, but two horrid contract offers that Astarion loathes and dreads in equal measure - but the prize at the end of both are too good to turn down.

To Defy the Gods by ~ Shadowheart/Tav ~ Dark Justiciar. Mother Superior. Shar's Voice Made Flesh. Her Chosen. Shadowheart had emptied her heart of falsehoods, of the illusion of life and love, and accepted the inevitability of loss. Almost.

A Dog's Retreat by ~ Halsin & Astarion, past Astarion/Cazador ~ For most, it was just the end of the Absolute. For Astarion, it was the end of two hundred years of agony. And the transition is steep and slippery. Now, all he can do is hope that there are enough pieces of him left for him to pick up and somehow put back together. Too bad hope has never been Astarion’s poison of choice.

A Warm House, A Ruddy Fire by DepravedJJJSchmidt ~ trans!Astarion/Cazador, trans!Astarion/m!Tav ~ Mr. and Mrs. Cazador Szarr have an ideal marriage. Astarion doesn't know if he will be able to survive another year of it. (And I don't know if I'll survive another chapter tbh, but like a burning building I can't look away 😬)

Alright, that's all I can think of! I'm a bit distracted all over again thanks to the original novel I'm working on now, but hopefully you find something new on this list you end up enjoying 🩵 this fandom is full of so many talented people!!

#fic: perfect slaughter #ask me anything #ask me anything: non ps #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic rec #baldur's gate 3

39 notes · View notes

echo-bleu · 1 year ago

Text

Noldor hair headcanons (1/4)

With AO3 down, it seems like a good time for some good old tumblr bullet-point pseudo-fic (I'll post it on AO3 eventually).

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | On AO3

Note: Inspiration for some parts of this came from @mynameisjessejk's wonderful Otter Mayhem series which you should go read when it's possible again.

The Noldor wear their hair in elaborate braids.

Hairstyle is a status thing, so noble Noldor have the most complex styles. They’re meant to show off craft, so there’s a lot of jewellery and gemstones involved, and the nobles’ hairstyles purposefully can’t be self-braided.

But touching hair is a very intimate thing and it’s never done by servants, always by family (spouse, siblings, parents or children). It’s a show of love and respect, if someone has a particularly complex hairstyle it’s supposed to mean that they’re well-loved.

Now Finwë as the king must have the most complex hairstyle of all. Míriel was of course very good at it, she’d weave and sew beads into his hair every morning, making each hairstyle a work of art.

When she fades, Fëanor is still really young, and he has to learn real quick to do his father’s hair, which he of course takes as a challenge. He starts making all of Finwë’s hair jewellery himself, he experiments with dozens of braiding styles. In the early months/years of their grief Finwë finds a lot of comfort in having his hair braided and they’ll both spend entire days beside Míriel’s body, with Fëanor braiding his father’s hair over and over.

Then Indis comes along, and hair braiding is traditionally the spouse’s work. It’s very hard for Fëanor not to feel like he’s been replaced (and not just his mother), especially since Indis has zero interest in it and Finwë’s hairstyles grow markedly simpler. Which is also not great for his reputation.

Nerdanel and Fëanor, once they marry, are extremely competitive and keep trying to outdo each other’s braids. It’s highly entertaining to outsiders, especially since it’s the only remnant of the Crown Prince’s more playful side. When little Maitimo comes out with red hair like Nerdanel’s, Fëanor bitches about having to make even more copper jewellery (he’s secretly overjoyed because he loves Nerdanel’s hair).

Fëanor is also careful to always have better braids than his half brothers, though Findis starts braiding Fingolfin and Finarfin’s hair as soon as she’s old enough, and she’s pretty good at it, unlike Indis.

Anairë’s hair texture is very different from anyone Fingolfin knows. He’s never been that into hair before, but he learns to do her braids with his tongue poking out. Once she figures out what to do with straight hair, she braids his into brand new styles that Fëanor is terribly jealous of.

Fingon has extremely thick kinky hair that takes a ridiculously long time to braid, and he’s very proud of it, thank you very much.

Thankfully for Fingolfin and Anairë, none of their other children have hair quite as thick.

Eärwen is Teleri and keeps her hair mostly loose. She wants none of that nonsense, especially not gems in her hair, come on. If she puts anything in her hair it’s gonna be pearls. She’ll do Finarfin’s hair if he really insists on it but if he wants the children to follow Noldor rites so much, he’ll have to take care of it himself. (He’s pretty good at it, actually.)

Maedhros and Fingon start doing each other’s hair in secret before Fëanor’s exile.

Celegorm switches from Noldor style to hunting braids when he joins Oromë’s hunt. They’re more practical and involve a lot less metal.

People have whole legends about how great it must be to braid Artanis’s hair, but it’s actually really fine and fragile and a nightmare. She insists that the only one who can do it right is Finrod. He tries to foist that chore on others a lot.

Aredhel and Curufin bond over hating to have their hair touched (sensory issues). Eventually they start doing each other’s hair because they know what to avoid.

Fëanor asking Galadriel for her hair is an Actual Taboo given that they’re not close (by the time Gimli asks, Galadriel has adopted Sindarin hair practices, but it’s also a fuck-you to Fëanor that she accepts).

At Losgar, (lightly-toasted) Amrod has part of his hair burned off. He is, after that, the very first elf to sport a side-cut, as hair won’t grow back over the scars. He never let anyone but his twin do his hair again.

Crossing the Helcaraxë, Fingolfin’s people try to keep up with tradition, but hair-braiding is hard when your fingers are constantly frozen stiff.

Still, Fingon insists on doing his father’s hair every day, even when he nearly loses fingers to frostbite.

He refuses to let anyone do the same for him, though, and he’s the first to start braiding his own hair. That’s when he starts braiding in golden ribbons, because they’re easier to do than beads, and frozen metal can burn skin.

Gradually they move away from long flowing braids and start making up crown-braid styles that protect their ears. As they progress, braiding becomes less and less about status and more and more practical.

Turgon and Elenwë (who adopted the Noldor style upon marrying) still keep to the tradition and braid each other’s hair and Idril’s right up until Elenwë dies. After that Turgon doesn’t let anyone touch his hair again until Gondolin (and then only Idril).

Finrod and Galadriel do each other’s hair. Galadriel’s fine, brittle hair suffers a lot in the cold, and for a long time she’s afraid that it will never go back to its former glory. It does eventually, but it takes decades.

In Beleriand, Maglor’s main contribution as King Regent is the invention of Mourning Braids (and also a slightly unhealthy number of laments).

Let’s be honest, he’s wearing them more for Maedhros than for Fëanor or Finwë, even though Maedhros is demonstrably still alive.

(No one thinks that will last.)

(Maglor can’t go save his brother and the guilt is staggering.)

(For some reason, Curufin is the one who does Maglor’s impossibly complex Kingly Mourning Braids.)

Then Helcaraxë Team arrives with their frozen fingers and their crown braids and It’s A Mess, Actually.

The Sun has just risen and Fingon’s golden ribbons are really blinding, no one can even look at him.

Listen, they haven’t had proper light in about forty years, they’re really light-sensitive now.

Everyone argues, Fingon makes at least two attempts to sneak out to Thangorodrim but he’s caught because he’s just way too shiny.

Third time’s the charm.

The only reason Maedhros doesn’t see him before he hears him is that he’s even more light-sensitive and just keeps his eyes closed. Also he’s tired. So very tired.

In Angband, Sauron took great pleasure in hacking Maedhros’s hair off and messing with it. When he’s rescued, what has regrown is a tangled, discoloured mess and they have to cut it all off.

Fingon stays with Maedhros a lot throughout his (physical) recovery, which in my mind takes at least the 55 years between his rescue and Dagor Aglareb, and he braids Maedhros’s hair every day, even at the start when it’s barely past his ear. Eventually Maedhros stops fighting and crying when someone touches his hair.

Mostly.

Fingon does tone down the golden ribbons eventually. Mostly because he runs out of Valinorian gold and has to do with Beleriand gold, which just isn’t the same.

To be continued.

#silmarillion #silm fic #tolkien #the silmarillion #feanor #maedhros #maglor #fingon #turgon #idril #echo's fanfiction #noldor hair headcanons

275 notes · View notes

brabblesblog · 1 year ago

Text

Ch 9: The king hath brought me into his chambers: we will remember thy love more than wine.

Astarion has ascended, and she has stayed with him. Life in the Crimson Palace isn’t as idyllic as it seems. Is there a chance for their relationship to go back to how it was? Or is it too late for the Ascendant and his consort?

This series is about Ban, my Tav, and the Vampire Ascendant. Will be angst and smut, with sprinkles of fluff.

This fic is a softer take on Ascendant!Astarion and of the changes he undergoes after the rite. Can Ban handle the change, and if a chance came, would she choose to run? And can the Ascendant win her back in time? Inspired by the concept of vampire wives and that IGN interview with Larian that discussed the ascension.

Professionally edited by @editing-by-night

With the party over, Ban and Astarion share the rest of the night together. Important conversations are had.

Read on AO3.

Masterlist.

The party had ended a little while ago. The remainder had gone by quickly, with Astarion refusing to bring her anywhere near Vel and his spawn. She had fulfilled her usual end of soirée role, standing by the door and seeing the guests out, but the Ascendant had made sure to stand by her as Vel and his retinue left. He’d become particularly protective once he’d realized his focus had faltered during their tryst and all of his summons had been returned to the ether. Thankfully, there had been no further incidents, and he’d relaxed somewhat once the doors had closed behind the last of the guests.

Writing the letter to Gale was hard. Ban frowned, quill in hand. She wanted to slam her face on the table and be done with it.

Said Ascendant was now slipping out of his suit, leaving it a crumpled mess on the floor. Ban winced a bit at the sight. She had always hated him leaving his clothes everywhere, especially when they were always ridiculously expensive.

“A letter?” He quirked an eyebrow, amused. He wasn’t really sure what she was doing, and curiosity won out. Leaning forward, he saw Gale’s name written on the top line.

His expression darkened. “Gale? Really?” He pushed on before he could stop himself. “I came inside you mere hours ago, and you’re already thinking about another man?”

Stop lashing out, you fool. You’ll ruin everything. But he couldn’t help it.

Ban sighed. “I’m actually letting him down, if you must know.” He opened his mouth to respond but she continued, wanting to get her words out before he said something that would escalate the situation. “Had you asked me nicely, I would have told you that right away.”

He stared at her for a moment longer, then his mouth snapped shut. He moved behind her instead, standing at her back. His hands gently worked on her braids, undoing them one by one, a routine he’d always maintained after every event they’d attended. It had usually been a prelude to sex, but tonight, he did it as a nonverbal gesture of apology, which was all his pride would allow.

With her hair free and loose, he gathered it up, draping the ebony locks forward, enjoying the way the silken lengths cascaded over her collarbone. He leaned down, affectionately biting the swell of her shoulder.

“Would you care to join me for a bath, pet?” he whispered into her ear.

She reached back, finding the back of his head and scratching his scalp. “Sure. If you stop calling me pet, at least in private.” Ban understood all too well the need to keep up appearances in the presence of others.

Astarion stopped mouthing at her neck. “Done.” In truth, he hadn’t considered what such nicknames implied. It had begun the moment he’d ascended, his burgeoning ego making it seem all too natural that she’d be fine with it. After all, wasn’t it cute, being someone’s pet? He didn’t think about the deeper implications of it; she didn’t want to be called that, and it was an easy request to grant. That was all there was to it.

He straightened up to undo the clasps of her dress, letting them fall over her shoulders, exposing her small, firm breasts. The sight sent a shiver of arousal through him, but he didn't act on it.

“Let’s bathe together, and then we can retire to our bed,” he said, elated that she’d decided to sleep over. She stood, letting her dress fall to the floor, but unlike him she picked it up.

Ban headed over to his pile of clothes, gathering them up as well, carrying everything to a basket she used to hold sullied clothes for the servants to wash the next day.

That done, she headed for the bathroom, where Astarion already had a bath prepared. The strong smell of lavender wafted towards her, and Astarion smirked as he lowered himself into the tub.

“Join me, lover,” he purred, adoring the sight of Ban climbing into the tub and settling in front of him.

Astarion gestured and she leaned back to let him wet her hair. Reaching for the shampoo, he dispensed some onto his palm and lathered it up, beginning to massage it in with a tenderness bordering on reverence.

“I can have you sent over to the Elfsong tomorrow with a servant to help you gather your things.”

Ban raised an eyebrow. “Who said I’m moving back?”

She leaned back into his touch, but his hands stilled mid-scrub at her words.

“I thought-“

“Only tonight. I said I’m willing to try, not that we’re already there.”

The hands in her soapy hair tightened for the briefest of moments, then loosened and resumed their ministrations, scrubbing the shampoo into her scalp.

“I suppose I misunderstood the terms of what trying meant.” The edge in his voice was back, haughty and unwavering.

She barked out a humorless laugh. “Did you think one or two good days and a good fuck was enough?”

His hands kept working as he considered this. The silence stretched, and Ban could almost hear him trying to figure out the right response. Eventually, he murmured a quick “Tilt your head back, love,” and began to rinse the shampoo out.

Finally, he answered, “I knew it wouldn’t be enough. But for a moment I had hoped it was.” A foolish thought, he was aware. “Are you worried you won’t be able to leave the palace again if you move back?”

“Yes,” she replied immediately. “I have wards against you and your summons. But against your staff? No.” Before, the belief that she was his spawn had kept her in line. But that ruse was gone.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Astarion gritted out. “I want you to do whatever it is you want.” That second bit was harder to spit out, but he needed to say it. It needed to be true, or she’d inevitably abandon him again. He finished rinsing her hair, picking up the scented soap next. Draping her hair over her shoulder, he proceeded with washing her back.

“Then why did you lie about me being a spawn?”

Shit. He wanted to move past all this. Why couldn’t they do that?

“I did say you would have a different experience than a spawn, love.” A half-truth.

“But you also never told me what I was.”

Astarion felt bile rise in his throat, a mixture of fear and anger bubbling in his chest. He finished scrubbing her back, turning her to face him, beginning on her front. As he soaped her chest he cupped a breast, then met her gaze.

There were a lot of things he could say here. That he had hinted at the truth, when he’d told her he’d given her a drop of his blood. That she’d been allowed, even encouraged, to bite him was another hint. He could say he hadn’t even been sure if the ritual had worked. He’d given her less of his blood than was usual, hoping to circumvent the danger of madness inherent to the ritual of turning her into a bride.

None of these were what she was looking for. He gathered what little courage the Ascendant had left, and opened his mouth.

“I figured you would leave me were you to find out the truth. And was I wrong? You did leave me. You left me passed out in a cup of wine, left me like I was just a used up plaything you no longer wanted.”

At his core, that was what Astarion feared most - that he was still a toy. Something to be enjoyed and then discarded once his usefulness had run out. For a time, Ban had worn down fear, and he had started believing in their love. But the moment he had ascended she had turned cold, as though she refused to accept who he had become, and wasn’t willing to try to. As if the moment he’d displeased her, she had punished him by withdrawing her affection.

Then that old fear had come roaring back, and he had needed to ensure she didn’t leave.

He looked down at the breast cradled in his palm, absently swiping a thumb over her nipple.

“Was this all I was good for? To be your sweet, kind Astarion? The Astarion who listened to your every word, who walked a step behind you? The one who needed your help, who stroked your ego, who gave you every pleasure you desired, who needed saving?”

He released her breast, returning to soaping her arm. His eyes didn’t meet hers.

“The moment I wasn’t that, the moment I was free - strong, confident - the moment I was no longer afraid, Ban, you changed.”

He remembered that invisible barrier between them in the last days of fighting the Absolute. He remembered bedding her every single night after the ascension, desperately trying to use what he knew best to regain what was slipping away, even though he hadn’t been exactly sure what it was. He’d finally been able to make love to her without being haunted by the horrors of his past, something he’d wanted so desperately for them to revel in together, yet each time, he’d felt her growing more and more distant. He had buried himself in discovering his newfound powers instead of dwelling too much on that distance - that cooling in their relationship, deciding it was a problem that was best not unearthed, perhaps it was something she would come to him with in time. After all, she was still with him, so it was fine. Everything was fine.

Ban shook her head vehemently. Of course he had misunderstood everything. “Astarion. You changed. All of a sudden you were megalomaniacal, narcissistic, and just - evil! Of course I’d pull away. You were distant. You were suddenly all haughty and there was none of the you that only I knew.”

He stopped soaping her arm. “I was finally strong, finally free! I finally had something to offer you! Don’t you understand?!” His temper got the best of him and he growled, “The rite made me this. Made me better. Stronger. Gave me the chance to claim my due. What I was owed.”

He leaned in close. “After two hundred years of torture and slavery, Ban, I think I deserved it!”

He didn’t tell her that he had also thought ascending would please her. That he could finally be a partner equal to her in strength and prowess, that he could protect her as she had him and provide her with everything she would ever need, immortality foremost amongst them. That she’d be his queen, his right hand, loved and pampered for eternity. The moment she had shown displeasure over that, he’d had to double down on the hedonism and the callousness to protect himself.

Centuries without anyone to care, to know him, to love him. Endless years of bodies and cruelty and pain, with no hope of reprieve. He’d given up hope of ever finding freedom, or happiness, or love - and then she’d come along. She’d seen him and chosen him, had claimed his withered heart, though he had nothing to offer in return. She’d thought him, simply him, to be enough. The idea of losing her, of losing that which had been bestowed upon him like a benediction was unthinkable. His mind had recoiled at the very idea, refusing to accept something so painful, and so he’d hidden himself away, behind layers of extravagance and ego, in a desperate effort not to fall apart.

“The world doesn’t owe us anything, Astarion. And I know you’ve suffered. So much more than you ever deserved.” Ban took the soap from his hand and put it away. He took a moment to wet his hair, the curls sticking to his forehead. She grabbed the shampoo, reaching for his hair, hoping he would allow it.

To her surprise he did, leaning his head forward so she could reach him.

“But just because you’ve suffered doesn’t mean you can inflict the same suffering onto others. Onto the people you would’ve made your spawn had I not put my foot down. Onto… onto me.”

Her hands scratched his scalp gently, and he was thankful that with his head lowered like this, she couldn't see his face. He cried silently, a trick he’d mastered early on in Cazador’s custody. The tears mixed with the water, lost before she could notice.

“I started avoiding you, yes. And maybe I shouldn’t have. Maybe I should have talked to you instead. I’m sorry I didn’t,” she continued, “But I was scared. I thought you weren’t you, that maybe the ritual had actually fundamentally altered you. So I did my research first, took my time. And by the time I realized it was indeed still you…”

By that time, their love had been so tainted she’d felt like her only option was to run.

She slid behind him, gently nudging him to tip his head backwards so she could rinse out his hair. He did so, his eyes closed. The water sluiced down his silvery curls and she couldn’t help but play with them, running the strands between her fingers.

“You could have talked to me, you know? This isn’t just on me,” she finally said.

“I couldn’t.” His voice threatened to crack, and he forced it to steady. Couldn’t, because he’d been terrified of being weak and alone again, the panic had strangled him before he could give voice to his fear. He’d known she was unhappy and self-preservation had taken over. To preserve his heart, he’d needed control; telling her would have relinquished that control. He would rather have lived with that farce of a relationship and suffered than risk it all on a gamble that could go sideways and leave him worse off than he’d been even in slavery.

“I couldn’t risk losing you.” He forced the words past his lips, enunciating everything slowly so that no cracks appeared in his voice. “I’d much rather just suffer. I am used to suffering. The whole of my life has been suffering.”

I’d rather suffer than be alone again. He would rather endure all her barbs, all the coldness she’d shown him, if it meant she’d be there.

“And how about my suffering? Or did that not matter to you?” She finished rinsing his hair, grabbing the soap to scrub his back. She ran her hand over the scars carefully, remembering to touch them in a way that he found acceptable. He melted into her touch, his shoulders drooping as he relaxed.

“It mattered. I knew you were miserable.” He hesitated. “I thought everything else would make up for it.” His voice finally cracked. He winced at the sound of it, but he pushed on.

“I wanted to give you the world.” His voice was small, another layer peeled from his core. “You deserve the world, but instead I made the world hell."

Ban froze, hand stilling in the middle of an infernal rune. She fought the instinct to hug him, unsure if that would be welcome right now. He was still the Ascendant, but he was also the spawn she loved. She understood now, he had always been both.

“I never wanted the riches. Not the clothes, or the jewelry, or the influence. Even the sex, as amazing as it has always been.” Other than tonight, every single time they’d had sex had been marred by something - from his initial plans of manipulating her, to all the times when she’d just lain there and gone through the motions because she’d hated who he had become. She kissed the back of his neck, a gentle press of lips that left them soapy. “I only ever wanted you, Astarion. The real you.”

The Astarion who had accompanied her in her journeys, the one who hadn’t been afraid to trust her with his heart. The one with whom she’d cuddled in that dirty tent night after night, swapping stories and enjoying each other’s company.

The Ascendant covered his face with his hands. He didn’t want her to see his tears, and even if he was silent, he knew it was pretty obvious by now that he’d started to cry.

He was so afraid. He’d always known, deep inside, that that was what she wanted. The bigger question, however, was whether he’d be able to give it. Was he brave enough to let the last layers fall at such a tentative time as this? When she could just leave again?

I’m a coward. The Ascendant knew this; he knew he would never be as brave as that spawn. This, after all, was why he loathed that version of himself - so powerless, and yet stronger than the Ascendant had ever been. He wanted to draw away from Ban, to bring the walls up, to hide behind them and peep through the windows of his defenses. To be safe.

But he owed it to her to at least try.

“If I fail, Ban-” he began, “If I stumble-“

“I’ll catch you. I’ll be here.”

Her hands roamed his back, still cleaning him, and he realized he wanted to ask her to hold him. He longed for the shelter of her embrace, the shield that protected him from the world.

A broken, stifled sound broke through the Ascendant’s lips.

“Hold me.” It was a broken whisper, he half hoped she hadn’t heard it. He hadn’t asked to be held since that fateful day when he’d condemned thousands to their end. Hadn’t felt like he deserved it, really.

But he wasn’t above asking now.

She responded immediately, gathering him in her arms and letting him settle against her, his back to her chest. He positioned himself to hide his face in the crook of her neck. He could feel her every breath, her undead skin, the slow beat of her undead heart.

The frantic pace of his own heart began to slow. He closed his eyes, the two of them utterly still for a few heartbeats, until Ban began to wash him again, allowing him time to collect himself.

This is why I love her. She always knew exactly what he needed, when he needed it, even when it was something he wasn't aware of himself. He let her bathe him, focusing solely on the sensation of her hands on his body, the gentle glide of her touch soothing him. He hadn’t had this type of intimacy in far too long, and he realized he’d rather die than lose it again. He’d been thinking that a lot, lately, he realized; about the things he’d rather die than go without. Perhaps it was time to start behaving accordingly.

All too soon she was finished bathing them both, and he was wrapping a towel around his waist. Ban sat on the bed, drying her hair with a towel. Astarion walked back into the bedroom and nearly reached for his pillow and blanket to curl up on the floor again, out of habit.

But Ban’s words echoed in his mind. The floor never did wonders for your back, Astarion.

He sat beside her on the bed, searching for something to say, just to break the silence.

“That whole time you were with Gale,” he began. The fact that she’d chosen to begin writing to him immediately after their evening together had struck him as odd and made him more than a little jealous. “Did you ever consider actually being with him?”

She looked over, a little surprised by this line of inquiry. It did make sense for him to ask, she supposed. The truth was that she’d felt nervous being around Astarion again, being in the same bedroom - actually sleeping together. Writing that letter had felt like something to do, something to keep her occupied while he bathed. She hadn’t really expected him to ask her to join him - that wasn’t something they’d done often when she’d still lived with him. She didn’t see any reason to tell him that, though, since that wasn’t what he asked.

“I did consider it.” It wasn’t a lie, and he knew exactly what had transpired between her and Gale physically. “He’s-” she tried to continue, and he cut her off.

“Everything I’m not. I know.” Tamping down the urge to get angry and to push her away yet again, he took a moment to calm down. Did she really mean it, when she’d said she wanted to try? Why had she been writing a letter to him so soon after? He was aware there was probably a perfectly reasonable answer, and that he could simply ask, but the insecurity won out.

“Is that what you want? Someone like Gale.” He was relieved that it hadn’t come out angry, although his jaw was clenched.

“Didn’t I just tell you I want you?”

He wanted to protest. Sex made things complicated, made people say things they didn’t mean. He knew that better than anyone - he’d heard it all, professions of love from countless people in various stages of bliss. He’d known not to believe a word of it, known that in those moments those people did believe their own words - he’d known exactly how to twist that belief to serve his master’s agenda, too.

“If it’s true, then say it again.” Shit. That came out wrong.

She narrowed her eyes at him, meeting the challenge in his gaze. Her mouth opened for a scathing remark, but then she noticed the way he looked.

The challenge was there, but there was more. In the set of his lips, in the way his jaw was clenched - there was fear. He was bracing himself, as if he expected her to change her mind and to leave him again. Ban looked down and sure enough, his hands were fisted into the sheets. She covered his with her own.

“I want you,” she said slowly. “I want to try again.” She kept it simple - not promising too much, but also hopefully giving him what he needed to hear.

Astarion looked away from her, staring at the wall. He eventually nodded sharply. “That’s all I ask. You can finish your letter now, if you want, and I’ll have the servants send it out first thing tomorrow.”

Ban nodded, placing a quick kiss to his temple before leaving the bed. As she settled herself at the desk again, Astarion forced himself to lie down on his side of the bed, watching her work. He took the opportunity to revel in her presence, in the quiet domesticity of it all. His eyelids began to grow heavy and his body relaxed comfortably, sensations he hadn’t felt since she’d left. He let the contentment wash over him, slipping into trance, his last thoughts of her.

He didn’t see her finish her letter and slip onto the bed beside him, nuzzling into his chest. He didn’t hear the whispered “I love you,” nor feel the soft kiss against his sternum. It made a difference, though, his rest was undisturbed by nightmares or by dark thoughts for the first time in months.

When sunlight finally streamed through the bay windows, Astarion opened his eyes and reached out for Ban.

His hands met empty air.

#astarion #astarion baldurs gate #astarion x tav #baldurs gate astarion #astarion fic #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion x female oc #astarion x f!tav #astarion x female tav #ascended astarion x f!tav #ascended astarion x tav #astarion ascended #astarion bg3 #astarion romance #astarion ancunin #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic

119 notes · View notes

notemily · 2 years ago

Text

Hey since it's the Glorious Twenty-Fifth of May, here's my favorite reading order for the Discworld books, the point of which is to read everything you need to read before you read Night Watch, which is the best one:

Guards! Guards! (Cop stories, film noir, and Tolkien jokes)

Men at Arms (The City Watch diversifies, there's a gun, clowns are creepy)

Feet of Clay (Discworld version of the ethics of enslaving robots)

Jingo (War, racism, xenophobia) (But like, it's funny. There's a Paul Simon "You Can Call Me Al" joke.)

The Fifth Elephant (Dwarf politics, vampires & werewolves)

Small Gods (Religion and philosophy jokes) (This is also usually the one I recommend to people who just want ONE Discworld novel to start with)

Mort (Death takes an apprentice)

Reaper Man (Death takes a holiday, there are Consequences)

Soul Music (So many rock & roll jokes! Death's granddaughter shows up)

Hogfather (Christmas jokes, tooth fairy jokes, this is the one where the famous quote about the falling angel and the rising ape comes from)

Thief of Time (Someone breaks time)

Night Watch (...and there are Consequences)

(I basically stole this reading order from someone's website. Thank you, person with a website.)

At that point you will probably have a pretty good idea of whether or not you want to read all the other Discworld books. I highly recommend the Witches subseries, which have a reading order as well:

Equal Rites (Granny Weatherwax is sort of still cooking here, but she's recognizably herself)

Wyrd Sisters (Shakespeare jokes)

Witches Abroad (fairy tale jokes, also voodoo for some reason)

Lords and Ladies (this time it's the kind of fae you don't want to piss off)

Maskerade (Phantom of the Opera jokes)

Carpe Jugulum (Dracula/vampire jokes) (Damn, it's really too bad this was written like 7 years before Twilight came out, can you imagine)

Then there are a bunch of other books, some of which are (loosely) connected, and the Rincewind books, which IMO are the weakest link in the Discworld (although I do enjoy Interesting Times, because of the China jokes).

There were also like twelve other books published after Night Watch, and they're still great - Monstrous Regiment is probably my fave of those - but I do think Night Watch was the peak of the Discworld series. After so many relatively self-contained books and so much humor, I don't think anyone was quite expecting such a rich chapter of Vimes's story that also punches you right in the feels. It's so good, y'all.

As always, it's dangerous to go alone, so take the Annotated Pratchett File with you.

#i can't believe it's been 21 years since that book came out wtf #discworld #terry pratchett #gnu terry pratchett #night watch #the glorious 25th of may #reasonably priced love #and a hard boiled egg #my posts

327 notes · View notes

tightjeansjavi · 10 months ago

Text

The Rite of Movement | drabble

“the most important meal of the day”

A/N: yeah so I guess me simply getting dressed this morning spurred the idea for pornstar!joel and baby love to do yoga together? I—yeah! Idk 😵‍💫

~word count: 956~

Summary: Joel eats you for breakfast

Pairing | pornstar!joel x pornstar!female reader

Warnings: none, fluff, smut, domestic intimacy, amateur porn video, established relationship, oral (f receiving) unprotected piv, teasing, pet names, semi-public sex, one mention of the reader ovulating, Joel is in his 40’s reader is in her 30’s, they are disgustingly in love, reader has no physical descriptions, +18 minors dni!

series masterlist

It was your suggestion that you and Joel should start causally filming vlogs depicting all the little special and real moments in your relationship outside of producing pornos. Joel was elated with the idea immediately, and later surprised you with a brand new handheld camcorder.

You were elated and feeling all those warm fuzzy feelings when he presented the camera to you with a frilly pink bow wrapped around it. Your excitement to document new memories with him on the camera was palpable as you gently threw your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly while his arms looped around your waist, nuzzling his nose into your neck affectionately.

He lived to see you happy even over the littlest things that he had to offer you.

You took to your socials immediately, gushing about Joel, and the new camera which you hinted at on your instagram story. In the corner of the screen you could see his thick middle finger pointed upwards, and his cheesy lopsided grin.

God, did you love this man.

The first video you filmed on the new camera was outside on Joel’s patio. It was a beautiful morning with you and your man participating in yoga with a side of breakfast. You had been the one to encourage him to start practicing yoga to help with the growing stiffness in his back and in his joints overall. He agreed enthusiastically to your suggestion, and he couldn’t say no to an excuse to see you in your cute workout clothes.

But between the mid-morning Texas humidity, and Joel’s occasional low grunts while he was in the downwards dog position, stretching out his back muscles with his head falling between his shoulders, and his salt and peppered hair all sweaty, falling in ringlets over his forehead, you could barely hold your composure for much longer.

There was an obvious wet patch forming through the breathable fabric of your workout shorts the longer you ogled at him, watching the way the muscles in his forearms flexed under the warm sun.

“What’re you lookin’ at, baby love?” His tone was low, deep, and rasping from the angle he was in. He looked over his shoulder at you, brows raised in amusement.

“Nothing, baby.” You lied sweetly, “you’re holding that position really well, Joel. Good job.”

He, however, was unconvinced with your response and slowly sat back on his thighs so that you had a direct view of the growing bulge in loose workout shorts. His cock was already growing hard and heavy, slicked with sweat and a drool of precum that stained the front of his shorts.

“S’that all I’m doin’ well? Can see ya ogling me like I’m your next meal.” He chuckled, grinning from ear to ear with his hands resting on his meaty, strong thighs.

“God fucking dammit.” You let out a groan and let yourself fall gracefully onto your back, thighs parting open so he can see the visible wet patch through the thin fabric. “I’m ovulating, you jackass. And you’re over there grunting and flexing your muscles and— fuck me—” you let out a strained laugh.

“And I’m as hard as a fucking slab of granite with you over there bending and twisting in ways that I didn’t know you could move in.” He nearly growled, eyes zoning in on the wet patch between your thighs. He was crawling towards you on the rubber yoga mat before you even had a chance to respond. “And you’re fuckin’ drippin’ right through your workout shorts, baby love.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” You said sarcastically with a playful roll of your eyes as you sat up on your elbows.

He was between your thighs immediately, big hands grasping your bare skin and pressing you open so the breadth of his shoulders could fit snugly between you. He dragged the tip of his nose right through the wet patch of the fabric. Letting out a deep, manly groan from the mixed aroma of your sweat and arousal, feeling his cock twitch in his shorts.

You reached for his hair, tangling your fingers through the sweaty ringlets, gripping them tightly as he pressed his face further into your covered cunt. “You’re gonna spoil your breakfast, Joel.” You said with a soft giggle, lashes fluttering shut.

“Fuck the breakfast. I’m eatin’ you up instead.” He mumbled against you, dragging his tongue from your covered hole right to your pulsing clit. He nibbled playfully on the fabric with his teeth, pulling the elastic back slowly before letting it snapback. “Would much rather eat my girl, anyway.” He snickered, rubbing his nose back and forth against you, listening to your sweet little whines that spurred him on to continue with his ministrations with his skilled tongue.

More. More. More.

And while he could have just easily pulled down your shorts for easier access, he decided that ripping them open was the better alternative.

And before you could even think about scolding him for ripping your shorts, he was lapping at your folds, and suckling on your clit like a man that was absolutely pussy starved. His eyes were shut as obscene sounds were murmured against your soaked pussy.

Thank goodness neither of you had to worry about any peeping neighbors!

After you’ve come along his tongue more times than you or he can count, he’s slowly feeding you his cock which has grown painfully hard up until this point. He’s so hard, the tip of his cock is nearly swollen as he uses his thumb to press himself into your weeping little hole. He fucks you slow and deep, letting you feel all of him with your calves resting over his shoulders. He’s forgotten all about the ache in his lower back when he’s all far too consumed with you: his baby love, and your pretty pussy hugging him just right.

banners made by the lovely @saradika-graphics 💗

please follow @tightjeansjaviupdates for fic updates and notifications

371 notes · View notes

itstheendofthegoddamnworld · 2 years ago

Text

The Dragon’s Spoil (Aemond Targaryen x Rivers! Reader) Part 2

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Summary: The baseborn daughter with little knowledge of who your Lord father was, your life is caught in the midst of war. The Riverlands are the base for the Greens and the Blacks, dragons loom in the skies, and men die daily, especially within the walls of the cursed Harrenhal. It’s only when a certain one-eyed dragon comes for his retribution. The year is 130 AC and war endures.

A/N: It was good to see people liked the first part, so I’m continuing with this. If you’re not aware, this series will be around 4 parts, sort of following what happens at the end of the dance of Dragons.

I also changed the ending to the final part as initially, Vhagar was going to eat the corpses instead or burn them, but it made me think that Aemond wouldn’t do that. Despite killing pretty much all of House Strong, he will still respects their bodies to give them a respectful funeral rite similar to the cremations Targaryen family members get.

I also promise the next chapter is when it gets most spicy.

Tags: slight mention of threat, some gore at the end.

Wordcount: 1,817

The Dragon’s Ruin

It feels like an eternity when you next see the Prince.

Criston Cole has you dragged away into the kitchen of the castle, throwing a cleaner apron that is not stained in mud. “I’m sure one of the ladies has a spare gown for you to wear.”

There are no true ladies of Harrenhal, only those that were dragged to live here by the husbands if they were willing. You gritted your teeth, finding some reprieve when the Hand leaves the room, only to allow you a short moment to change.

You can’t do much apart from try and drag the mud out from the bottom of your gown, already was it stained and appropriately dirtied from days of labour around the castle. The castellan had made sure you were occupied in cleaning: especially in places that had little to no to see you.

You wipe at your brown kirtle with some water in a bucket close by, changing your previous apron with one that is just as messy as the previous one, except the stains seemed more appropriate for a cook. You tie your long black hair up in a bun, loose ringlets fall and frame around your face and fail to fall back behind your ear.

You’re appropriate when the Hand comes for you again, muttering along the lines of “the Prince wants to see you in his chambers” before you’re dragged by the arm again, through the corridors you’ve known all your life.

It’s not hard to find him: he’s in the same apartment you had previously been cleaning, its fireplace still unlit and ash messily strewn in a manner that had looked to of been discarded. He would be displeased to have his room not the cleanliness of one in the Red Keep.

The One-eyed Prince is situated in a chair by the unlit fire, idly preoccupied in waiting for you as if he had been called to see you and not the other way around. For a moment when you both enter the room, he does not look to address either, and you see in the split second how he does not seem as calm as he usually is.

His hair is thrown forward past his shoulders, long and graceful, he is caught staring with a stare of longing and unknown thoughts. It makes you wonder just what he is thinking, whether he is proud of his doings, or if war has strengthened him into becoming the man he was meant to be.

He is playing at war. You think, staring at him. Boys as green as summer, they think they’re untouchable.

“My Prince,” Criston addresses and the split moment of being with his thoughts bring him back, his eye turning just enough to see you both in his peripheral, “the bastard you called for.”

“Thank you, Cole,” Aemond speaks calmly, though one hand is squeezing his thigh with might that you think he’ll rip the fabric. “You may leave us both.”

Cole obeys like the loyal dog he is, leaving through the doors and closing them shut, leaving you with the man who killed all in a minor House, and what he could do with a girl like yourself.

You could only imagine what Perra was feeling, how she had been lucky to escape with her life. If Aemond had found out that her uncle had been working alongside the Blacks, you were certain her head would have been sent over to him in a lavish box.

She was the daughter of a knightly house. She escaped because her name was important, not yours. You think, and sadness spreads through your chest. If you had been born a lady of some house, you wouldn’t have to worry about the judgement, the hatred. It burnt in the back of your skull knowing they stared when you walked past, whispering the lies about you.

Witch. Sorcerer of Harrenhal. Killer of babes and men.

They had all been lies, though, if you had been a witch, you wished your stares could burn through a man’s skull. The part about killing babes was false when you had rarely seen children born in a place such as this. Harrenhal was not the place that would bring life but take it.

You had been warned that bastards were sterile, never able to create life. It was “to curse them for their unfaithful parents.” Though you did know some bastards could reproduce, you dared think the rumour had been true just for yourself.

Though, you feel rather relieved that you wouldn’t be able to, the constant reminder is enough to make you believe so. You wished you were the witch people called you by, just so you could curse the Prince who had waltzed in and dug up everything root and stem. House Strong could never come back and if they could, the baseborn girl that came from the line could certainly not be legitimised to restrengthen its line.

Aemond is standing from his seat when you blink out of your thoughts, staring at his lips move when you realise he is asking you something. “Who was your father, my Lady?”

My Lady. It stings when you hear that come from him, and you almost laugh at the absurdity. You were everything but a lady. Witch. Sorcerer. You think he uses it to humble you, to remind you of what you were.

“I did not know who,” you answer coolly, “many whispered it had been Ser Simon or Lord Lyonel. Some even said Harwin or the Master of Whispers himself, though I would believe they would be similar in age to me the same way a sibling or cousin would be.”

“How old are you?”

“I am three-and-twenty, my Prince.” You grit your teeth when you say his title.

“And your mother?”

A sad smile appeared on your features, hoping that he did not see it appear before you look away from him. “My mother too, was a mystery I never got to know.”

Aemond hums at your word as he slowly stalks closer towards you. “It is not right for a child not to know their parent.” He speaks causally. “The Mother above can be cruel in most ways.”

“It is the sins of the parents that bring bastards into the world, my Prince, not the Mother.” You say, and when he turns his head to you sharply, you dart away to look elsewhere.

You curse at yourself for overstepping and speaking when you shouldn’t have.

He stares you down with fascination, humming lightly in a singsong tone. “You’re familiar with the Seven, but you were never brought into the Faith?”

“A novice life would not suit me well,” you shrugged, smiling to yourself. “I simply could never remember the prayers. Harrenhal is cold but I would rather prefer these walls than those of cold and dreary Oldtown.”

Aemond chuckles at that and it takes everything not to gawk at him when you hear it. It’s soft and subtle, but it sounds surprising and oddly nice to hear come from him. “I suppose you’re right. My mother always thought I would make a great knight, fighting in tourneys.”

“I suppose we were put here for greater purposes.” You speak, trying not to look as intimidated under his purple-eyed gaze.

He stares at you, not saying much, but his eye flicks through emotions as if flicking through a book. It’s unnerving but it draws you in ever the same as a moth to flame. You’re intimidated, but you’re intrigued to know more about him, even when you feel such conflicting feelings of wanting to see him and the entirety of the Greens burn.

You find your words come easier, and you ask the crucial question that had plagued your mind since the moment he landed in the courtyard. “If you aren’t going to kill me, my Prince, why am I here?”

honestly to him before you find yourself lost in his gaze and you forget everything about hating him.

Aemond draws his hands behind his back to straighten his back and appear taller, towering over you with ease. It’s as if just staring at his features makes you feel lost in his Valyrian beauty, and you forget everything about hating him.

“I need a handmaiden and someone who is most familiar with Harrenhal. You would fit both best, am I correct?” He speaks earnestly.

“That… would be correct.”

He is close enough that you can smell the oils on him, the smell of musk that any proud warrior would wear. It's powerful and overwhelming, but it’s almost as if the way he's standing so close to you is his ploy to make you subservient to him. “My brother will only ask that the prominent line of House Strong is destroyed, not of its baseborn. After all, he had taken… to creating some of his own.”

Oh. He was far from a faithful man, and certainly fit the role of a sloth and licentious King. “My condolences to the Queen.”

Aemond hums amusedly as he traces back to his seat, “I require a fire. I expect you know how to work one?”

“Indeed, my Prince.”

“Very well,” he spoke, his face turning just enough that you see his visible eye, burning with something that makes your heart flutter and your stomach twist, “you will have my undivided protection from all the men in this castle. I swear it on my life.”

It doesn’t make you feel any better to know that, rather you think of one thing that you wish you could ask him aloud, and what about you?

You curtsy rather clumsily, forgetting your footing but playing it off as you leave his chambers, hurrying past Cole who awaits just outside. You almost bump into him as you catch him scowling down at you.

You’re blinking away your confused thoughts, muddled in a worry of feelings and mixed emotions. You hate him, and you should hate him for everything, but his looks and charm were everything that made you feel lured to him.

Standing back in the place you recalled not long before, the courtyard is a sore sight. Blood still cakes the ground, but the bodies are all replaced with a large pile of ash, some mixed with plates of metal and burnt articles of clothing.

Your stomach twists once again as you back away from the sight, turning back as your vision catches something perched on the walls above.

Thinking it was a raven at first, your heart drops when you recognise that no, they’re not birds, but the heads of every member of House Strong.

Your fists clench into your apron and you’re nearly quick to tears as you look away, remembering your job was to collect firewood for Aemond’s chambers.

Hurrying away, you think if there was any way Targaryens were immune to fire.

#aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #Aemond the Kinslayer #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond x reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fic #aemond targaryen x reader #strong! reader

170 notes · View notes