Here you go: all of my (that is, Snowgrouse's) Conrad Veidt character fic under one roof. There's a detailed guide to the collection here in case you were wondering where to start. And if you want an idea of why this Veidt guy's villains inspire so much porn, this vid is basically a summation of the reasons why. Most of the fic consists of Jaffar's medieval Persian sex panther antics and Torsten's extremely depraved debaucheries, but various other Connies get their share of the action, too. Expect long, indulgently sensuous and kinky erotic scenarios woven into detailed historical settings, basically.
“There’s one fairytale princess I quite like,” Torsten said and dragged his fingertips up the small of my back, my nipples hardening against his suit just as I could feel him hardening against my belly; our heat rose with our pulses, our pulses with the music's, the orchestra playing faster and faster. “That version of Snow White, where she's dead when the prince comes to her, makes love to her--or at least the prince thinks she’s dead. And that’s the point," he said, his eyes as sharp as shards of glass; as if to follow a cut made, he now pressed his lips to my jugular. "Do you follow me?”
“I follow you,” I said, and to demonstrate, I let myself fall dead in his arms, completely listless, lifeless but for the fraction of a second, so that we both staggered; he had to catch me to stop us from falling over. And oh, but the helpless, high-pitched moan he let out now, at my acquiescence, my surrender, my promise of the liebestod to come: the way his eyes widened, the way his cock leapt against my dress!
“We’re going home,” he rasped as the song reached its crescendo, his lips as wet against my ear as I was wet between the legs; he swept me off my feet and carried me to the taxi waiting outside.
- Part 8 of Devilry
His brother is as beautiful as a houri.
And Fadl does not care if, in thinking this, he blasphemes: already the soft, sensuous veils of sin have wrapt themselves about his brain in the form of a heady, dark and rich date wine.
For now, Jaffar, upon a drunken whim, has availed himself of all their sister's finery and made himself female.
Knowing exactly how beautiful he is, beautifuller than any woman Fadl has ever seen, he now poses for his brother in the manner of the skilledmost of courtesans, singing-girls when they wish to drive their masters into erotic frenzies.
And it is indeed a frenzy Jaffar now incites in Fadl's mind, heart and loins: never has he been to him as beautiful. Perfumed, night-black curls hang thick and heavy on either side of his face as if clusters of grapes; his skin shines soft, pale, luminous from rich creams and unguents made shimmering from powdered pearls. Anklets, bangles, necklaces, earrings, brow-chains, armlets, belts, rings upon his fingers and toes tinkle at his slightest movements, now chiming wildly the myriad tambourines of a heathen dance; a band of maenads he makes music there as he stretches, arches, sways in voluptuous delight.
- Part 22 of Of Roses Unfurling
An Ancient Art by Snowgrouse for Ushas42
Fandoms: Thief of Bagdad (1940), كتاب ألف ليلة وليلة | Kitaab 'alf layla wa-layla | One Thousand and One Nights, كتب الف ليلة و ليلة | Kitaab 'alf layla wa-layla | One Thousand and One Nights & Related Fandoms
04 Jul 2017
Yassamin blinks as she takes in the sight that greets her in the shabestan.
"You are not serious."
Jaffar but grins at her, his prick waving hello to her as he sits naked, cross-legged on the floor in his magic circle.
But his isn't the only prick now greeting her: for this magic circle consists of twelve different phalli, all arranged in a perfect circle around him. Phalli of all shapes and sizes, crafted of stone, gum, leather, wood; most of them but pleasure-tools she is intimately familiar with, but she thinks she can spy a few ritual ones, too, as if this entire display wasn't horrendously pagan to begin with.
She puts her fists to her hips. "Care to explain this, husband?"
Jaffar encompasses the circle with a flourish of his hand. "Twelve pricks, one for each sign of the Zodiac, representing the signs' respective qualities," he says.
And indeed, the pricks sit neatly in the carefully drawn wedges and squares that make up his magic circle, all of these wedges filled with sigils and symbols astrological and alchemical.
- Part 21 of Of Roses Unfurling
Fandoms: Thief of Bagdad (1940), كتاب ألف ليلة وليلة | Kitaab 'alf layla wa-layla | One Thousand and One Nights, كتب الف ليلة و ليلة | Kitaab 'alf layla wa-layla | One Thousand and One Nights & Related Fandoms, Original Work
26 Jun 2017
The autumn stars always drive Yassamin mad from desire, mad: this year, her frenzy is of an altogether sodomitic nature. Jaffar, of course, is only glad to experiment with various treatments to help assuage her 'fever.'
Yet, come Mehregan, the bloodied memory of Harun al-Rashid arises to torment both Jaffar and Fadl: they cannot keep the truth of the Barmakid tragedy from Zainab and the children any longer. How *did* they survive the massacre?
Meanwhile, Fadl and Zainab's relationship deepens in unexpected ways...
Jaffar shares with Yassamin the vision spreading out before his eyes: her arse gaping open, filled to the brim with golden, sloshing oil; his hands leaving great golden smears on the white mounds of her buttocks, her fat rippling between his fingers as he clutches at her flesh.
But he wants more, more, wants to make this arse into a feast before he takes it: now, he slaps and *claws* the oil into her buttocks, leaving red welts in his wake. She shivers as the oil tingles in the welts, healing them immediately; he laughs as he realises he's now competing with the oil, creating patterns with his hands only to have them instantly swallowed up by a golden glow.
- Part 20 of Of Roses Unfurling
Fandoms: Conrad Veidt/Basil Rathbone, Veidtbone, Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, German Actor RPF - Fandom, Conrad Veidt - Fandom, Basil Rathbone - Fandom, Old Hollywood RPF
20 May 2017
Even if he's the one wearing the dress--a beautiful, white silk dress and silk stockings, with smooth-shaven legs underneath--Connie's the one who's ended up on top tonight. And very literally so: now, Connie is straddling Baz, kissing him, grinding into him, hard underneath his dress; determined, he is pressing Baz's wrists into the bed and won't let him move.
All of this had happened naturally, somehow; inevitably. The moment Baz had shown up looking gloomy and tense--well. Connie had taken one look at him and had known that tonight, he needed to take charge, needed to undo that stupid anguish of his, those knots in his being.
Even if it's but subconscious, both of them know that tonight's the night: tonight, Connie will finally take him. He wants Baz so much he isn't going to be satisfied with just taking the female role this time--well, depending on the female. For Connie is now also the woman who takes, the maneater, and Baz cannot help but think of the firm command with which Marlene had taken him to her bed.
Therefore, after a little tumble upon the bed, it just so happens that Connie throws Baz face down upon the bed, yanks up his hips and buries his tongue in his arse.