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foreverdolly · 1 month

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ೃ࿔ SAVAGE BONDS part 2 『 feyd rautha x atreides!reader 』

summary: destined to one another since conception, your very life belongs to feyd rautha. as a token of good will you are sent to the strange planet of giedi prime a week before your wedding ceremony, only to learn that it is far more hostile than you imagined it would be. a failed assassination attempt has tempers flaring and sparks flying when it is decided to be safer to sleep alongside feyd. you hate to admit it, but he has played the part of a "protector" better than the guards who were tasked to watch over you. whilst you have been dreading this union all of your life, feyd has been anticipating it. meeting you as children had left him awe-struck. . . and a bit obsessed.

warnings: !SMUT HEAVY IN FUTURE PARTS!, feyd is super overprotective in this fic and kills multiple people in your honor, blood and gore, it's a dark romance folks, political marriage, forced proximity, temporary unrequited love, a lil dubious consent in some scenes, there's a lot of talk about breeding, enemies to lovers (in your mind, not his), there's a "who did this to you" scene, knife play, blood kink, breeding kink heavy, lots of scent marking/marking.

word count: 4.5k

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Legs tangled in gray sheets. The lightning-quick flash of a silver dagger, held by a pale hand.

The images in the dream are more like fragments- impossible to discern and decipher. On the bed, asleep and vulnerable. . .

There’s you.

And then Feyd wakes up, heart hammering in his chest so hard he can feel it in his throat. Slowly his fingers crawl up, up, up the expanse of the bed in search of something. In search of warmth, of you. Nothing. He’s just as alone in his room as he was when he drifted off into sleep. He lays awake the rest of the night, tossing and turning with worry.

This dream felt more like a warning than just another disjointed nightmare. It felt real. He was used to having dreams every now and again which clearly depicted a future outcome. He saw you in his dreams quite often, more so once he was no longer a boy-child.

If someone thought to hurt you… he’d just have to hurt them first.

The customs you and your people practiced were completely different to those that were normal on Geidi Prime. You watched one of your ladies-in-waiting as she brought over another small bowl of sweet smelling bath salts, dumping it in and using her hand to properly dissolve them. For a moment you felt self conscious, running your fingers through your hair as you looked at their perfect complexions and shaved heads. What did they see when they looked at you? Someone beautiful and strange. . . or an alien?

Still, you would eventually have to disrobe and bathe. Pressing your luck and refusing their help would only solidify your place as an outsider. You were sure that whispers of your arrival were already spreading like wildfire, and it was almost guaranteed that no one was happy about it. An Atreides amongst Harkonnen’s? You were nothing more than a pariah on their industrial wasteland of a planet.

The air was even more acrid in your lungs than it had been the night before, and while the smell of the rose body oils and salts were thick and hazy in your room, you could still catch the scent of pollution. Already you missed the cool, crisp air of Caladan. You missed your horses, your parents and your brother to the point of pain. This was not where you belonged. Not here in Geidi Prime. Not here with Feyd-Rautha.

The urge to cry yourself hoarse was practically undeniable, and yet you somehow managed to resist. You were late to breakfast already, and surely the Baron was making some unsavory comments about your family and their taught “manners”. So you untied the front of your nightdress and shimmied out of it, letting the soft cotton pool at the ground beneath your feet. The women couldn’t help but gawk at the tiny imperfections they saw there- a beauty mark you’d had since you were a child, a scar you’d received while training with Gurney. You weren’t used to feeling so self conscious, and so you were quick to grab one of the women’s extended hands so that you could sit down in the murky bath water.

They rubbed floral smelling soaps into your hair and on your skin, making sure to handle you as though you were as fragile as porcelain. You wished they would scrub you raw. Even then they wouldn’t be able to cleanse you of your fears. You were in the hands of the Harkonnen’s now.

No one could save you.

“We are not very used to styling hair, my lady. It might not be to your liking.” One of the women said anxiously. The way that her hands shook as she gripped the hairbrush was not lost on you.

How cruelly were they treated here? Or even worse- what did she think of the Atreides family? What lies had they poisoned these people’s impressionable minds with? You didn’t care to dwell too much on such thoughts. Reaching out you gently removed the brush from her hands, flashing her the kindest smile you could muster before shaking your head.

“Leave this to me then. Why don’t you pick something for me to wear from my things?” Your bags were still packed, lying exactly where a few servants had laid them last night. You had denied every offer to have them unpacked for you.

Denial. You refused to believe that you were actually stuck here. This would never be your home. It couldn’t be.

“He’s not here,” Feyd was sitting at a long, slate-gray table by himself. The food on his plate had barely been touched, but he had busied himself with chopping the meat up into miniscule pieces, too small to even fit on the prongs of his fork. “If you were planning on trying to make a good impression, you can forget about it. He always has his food sent to his quarters.”

You thanked the two ladies that had shown you through the colorless halls under your breath, moving to sit on the other side of the table. At least eight chairs separated you from the Na-baron and it still wasn’t enough. You wished you were on an entirely different planet, lightyears away from the Harkonnen scum.

The room was practically empty aside from the large dining room table. No art decorated the walls or rugs to cover the floor. It was all cold, black marble with white accents.

“I don’t care, actually.” And you were being truthful. You didn’t care about getting on the Baron’s good side any more than you cared about getting on Feyd’s.

He smiled then, staring at you long and hard before licking one of his black painted canines. He was amused by the blase way you brushed off his uncle so easily. Indifference wasn’t something he was used to, especially not when everyone in the galaxy had tried so hard to get on their good sides. People tended to tread lightly as far as the Harkonnens were concerned. They were as wealthy as they were cunning.

“Be careful, little Atreides. Saying things like that might get you hurt around here.” His gruff voice was but a whisper now, and suddenly you felt as though there weren’t twelve feet of dead-air separating the two of you.

You had picked up your fork, ready to eat whatever bland food had been prepared for you, but froze at his words. Heat rose to your cheeks and you were quick to lean back in the ornate high-backed chair, the cool iron seeping into your back through your clothes.

“Do you mean to threaten me?” Your words were icy, tongue sharp and ready to give him a proper lashing.

“It’s not a threat, darling.” He was practically purring, reveling in the joy of referring to you whilst using a pet name. It suddenly looked as though a switch had been turned on, his eyes narrowing on you. “I know him far better than you do. He’s killed people for far less. Be careful.” There seemed to be something he wasn’t telling you. There was genuine warning in his tone.

A pause.

“Please.” And then he went back to eating.

So were you supposed to act gutted at his uncle’s absence? You picked up the fork and took a bite of whatever had been put on your plate. It wasn’t at all what you were used to. Even the food tasted. . . fake. The meat tasted like it had been pumped full of chemicals and was mealy in your mouth, like sand. Still, you swallowed despite your distaste and shoved the plate away from you.

“Who have you assigned to be my sparring partner? I’m sure that my father made your uncle aware that I train daily, correct?” If you didn’t physically exert yourself and blow off some steam then you were bound to get no sleep tonight.

Last night you had tossed and turned, unable to stay asleep when your body was constantly alerting you to possible dangers. Even now you were on high alert, eyes locked on the knife that sat on the right side of Feyd’s plate. Your own fingers danced towards yours it you watched. Waited. Worried.

“Training?” He tilted his head again, eyes narrowed in disbelief. You could almost see the cogs turning as he mulled over your words. “What good would training do you now? If there are any threats then I am here to protect you- that’s my duty as your husband.”

Ah, yes. Why would a woman train when she could just sit back and play the part of a perfect little wife instead? You could spit.

“Would you rather I just hunt down one of your servants and kill him for sport?” You hated that he was so good at getting a reaction out of you. Maybe you were acting too much like a brat, but you wanted to see him squirm. Seeing him mad must be better than seeing him. . . like this.

For a second he sat there, arms perched nonchalantly over the armrests of his chair, staring at you with a crooked smile. You jumped in surprise when a chuckle escaped him, the act itself so out of place, so surprising that all you could do was stare in horror. The chuckles soon morphed into frenzied laughter, and he was quick to lean back in his seat so that he could place a hand on his chest.

“Was that funny to you?” You spoke through gritted teeth.

He watched the muscle in your jaw clench and unclench with wild eyes, sucking in a deep breath in the hopes of calming himself. Still, to hear such a beautiful woman speak such hideous words. . . it was wonderful, bordering on perverted.

“If you do kill a servant, please make sure I’m there to watch.”

He was too busy watching your face to notice the knife that you slid into the sleeve of your dress. With a huff you stood up, your skirts dryly brushing along the ground as you started to make your way out of the large room.

“I require a trainer.” You tried to mimic your mother’s tone, straightening your shoulders as you turned to look at him.

Lady Jessica always had a way of commanding a room. She was powerful, your mother. You needed to channel that same power now.

“You’ll train with me then,” He stood up from the table, the height and build of him alone nearly causing you to take a step back. You’d forgotten how large he was. How formidable. “Consider it a wedding gift.”

This had you balking, mouth opening and closing as you tried to think of some way to refuse. He was already stalking past you though, ignoring whatever retorts you were bound to make.

“I recommend getting changed. . . Unless you want me to tear that dress to shreds.”

That awful, ugly, no good-

“Bastard!” You whispered under your breath, wadding up your dress just to angrily toss it onto your bed.

You sank to your knees, braiding your fingers into your hair so that you could give it a few good yanks. He was doing this to fuck with your head. All of this was calculated on his part, it had to be. Was it all just to get a rise out of you? Or did he truly want to try and hurt you? You couldn’t figure him out, and that boiled your blood. All Harkonnens were cunning, blood thirsty schemers. You wouldn’t put it past him to be unhappy with the marriage arrangement, choosing to resort to violence in order to end things.

‘Now. Now is the time to strike.’

You’d already hidden the blade under the mattress of the bed. The Baron wouldn’t allow you to live if you killed his precious nephew, but you’d much rather put up some sort of a fight than be put down like a dog. After taking a few steadying breaths you somehow managed to pull on your trousers and shirt, your mind plagued with dangerous, dangerous thoughts. If the moment called for it you were certain that you could not kill Feyd in hand to hand combat. His skills with a blade was well known across the galaxy, and while you were more than able to defend yourself, you weren’t delusional enough to think that you could manage to beat him without using underhanded tactics.

You’d have to wait until his guard was lowered.

“Do all women take this long to get ready?”

You hadn’t heard the door open, nor his footsteps approaching. Who knew how long he had been watching you. The intrusion was an unwelcome one. You looked up to glare at him, trying hard not to balk at his appearance. The clothes he wore were skin tight, a black material that caught the dim lighting- like it was made of pitch black oil. His pants were tucked into big black boots, laced up high on his calf.

He stretched his arms up, leaning against the doorframe so that he could continue his awkward staring.

He did a lot of that it would seem. Any time you turned your head to face him you found that he was already looking in your direction. It was odd. . . off putting to say the least. Of course you couldn’t know that he was currently tracing the lines of your face with his eyes, committing every detail to memory. You were so different when he compared you to the females that he was used to seeing. You were all soft lines, long lashes and doe eyes. He found it impossible not to look at you. Gorgeous… you were gorgeous.

“It took me a while to get out of my dress on my own.”You shoved your way past him in the doorway, his chest warm under your palms.

You were quick to jerk away, startled by the fact that this was the first time that you’d touched him since the two of you had reunited.

You didn’t hate the feel of him, but you should have.

“Then you should have asked for some help.” He said, reaching out to grab you by the back of your shirt when you started to walk off in the wrong direction.

Feyd pulled you along like he would a pet on a leash through the triangular halls, ignoring your mumbled curses as you tried swatting him away.

The shield vibrated in your ears as you switched on the button, enveloping you in its warmth.

You used to find it uncomfortable as a child, the tight, foreign warmth triggering a mild case of claustrophobia. You were used to it now, wearing it like a second skin. You waited for Feyd to turn his on as well, the blade clutched tight in your palm.

You waited. And waited. And waited.

“Where’s your shield?” You asked him, motioning towards his hip with your free hand.

There it was, that crooked smile again. He was laughing at you. Was he trying to infer that you were weak? Was he so confident in his skills that he didn’t even see you as a threat?

“I don’t see the nee-” He didn’t get very far.

You kicked your leg out, catching the back of his right knee. His legs buckled, and he was quick to adjust himself, his left arm flying up to catch your wrist before you could sink the blade home. For a split second the two of you just stared at each other. Mild shock in his eyes, your own alight with an anger so consuming that you feared you might be burnt up with it. He gave your arm a sharp tug, hard enough that the joint rolled uncomfortably in its socket.

You kicked your leg out before he could throw you over his shoulder, landing a sharp blow to his ribs. You heard him let out a pained moan before you hit the ground. Using your weight to your advantage, you tucked your body in, rolling to the side so that you could easily stand up to your knees, blade poised at your side and ready for an attack.

“You fight well, Atreides.” Feyd purred, spinning his blade between two fingers before letting it fall back into his pale palm.

“Turn on your shield.” You growled, rising to your full height so that you could begin circling him, a panther ready to pounce.

“Was it Duke Leto that trained you?” Still, he was ignoring your statement.

“No.”

“No, of course it wasn’t him,” He took a step closer to you, eyeing you down. No one had looked at you like that before. . . and it made your skin crawl. You didn’t want to be desired by this man, the thought alone was miserable enough to have bile rising in your throat. “Your father is too weak-spirited to ever train you himself, lest he accidentally harm you.”

Your heart was beginning to pound in your ears now, vision tunneling. All you could see was Feyd. All you could imagine was the blade that you were currently white-knuckling sunk hilt deep into his chest.

“How horrible it must be for Caladan to have a Duke so. . . spineless.”

You bared your teeth, and for a second you were sure that you would snap the hilt in half with how hard you were gripping your blade. You demanded blood for such an insult. How dare he. How dare he.

“I should cut out your tongue!” You screamed, pointed the blade at him.

‘Don’t come any closer’ you urged with your eyes, feeling the angry tears causing your vision to fog. A Harkonnen was insulting your father. He was insulting your family and now he was smiling at you. The bastard had the gall to smile and this time all of his teeth were showing. Wide, unabashed in his joy. He was terrifying. So much so that you felt your legs begin to shake underneath you.

“But you’ll want to put this tongue to good use eventually.” His gravelly voice purred.

“Silence!” And before you could even control yourself you were using the Voice.

You might not be as talented as your brother when it came to hand to hand combat, but your mother had taken the time to teach you well. Feyd’s mouth snapped shut so hard that you heard his teeth clatter together.

“One more word and I will gut you.” Your voice shook and before you could rethink your actions you were lunging forward, the blade cutting through the air. . .

Aimed at his throat.

He was quick to push your arm away with his forearm, and even with the shield up you could feel the bone shattering pressure he put behind the movement. He was stronger than Paul- stronger than even Gurney. He took advantage of the fact that you were put off balance and grabbed a fist full of hair, the shield around you flashing red as he pressed his blade as close as he could to the base of your throat. Your scalp exploded in pain, eyes watering as he gripped harder to yank your head back so that you were staring directly into his eyes. They held no malice towards you, even despite the fact that you were obviously trying to maim him.

And then he leaned in closer. And closer.

“If I didn’t know any better then I would think that you were actually trying to kill me.” He whispered against the shell of your ear. You could practically feel the warmth of his lips against your skin as he spoke, your heart roaring in your ribcage. With your chests practically touching like this you could smell him.

You’d only caught the scent of spice once in your life- and it was akin to bitter cinnamon. There was something else though, something more complex to it. Aromatic spices you couldn’t quite put your fingers on and. . . the natural musk of his skin.

“So you can speak again?” You managed to tease him through your pain, wincing as he brought you even closer against his chest. The blade that you clutched in your hand was now pressing against his side, the pointed edge digging into his skin.

He didn’t wince, even when you put more pressure against it.

“You think it wise to use the Voice on me in my own home, little girl?” He hissed as he pulled away from your ear, and the fire that was in your eyes was now mirrored in his own.

Slowly you moved the blade away from him, the metallic clanging echoing around the room as you let it fall to the floor. Your palm hurt from the vice-like grip you had been holding it in.

“Release me now.” You didn’t shy away from staring into his eyes, unwavering even when he pressed the blade even tighter, the shield vibrating louder and louder around you.

He leaned in, even when your hands moved to press against his chest, willing him to give you space. You could barely breathe with him this close to you. His own knife clattered to the ground, and using his free hand he ripped the shield from off of your hip. The gasp that escaped your lips was uncontrollable. You could feel his breath on your lips as his eyes continued to swallow you up whole.

They looked even bluer when you were up close like this, framed by long black lashes. For a split second you wondered what had become of that beautiful little boy you had met. Had Baron Vladmir beaten the beauty out of him? Or perhaps it had never truly been there to begin with.

When Feyd looked at you, up close like this, all he saw was the object of his ever-present affections. Something yawned to life in his chest- the need to protect. All at once he felt wrong, disgusting and horrible for causing you any sort of pain.

But you looked so lovely with those tears in your eyes. So much so that he gave your hair another small yank, a shuddered breath escaping his lips as you yelped in pain. He saw the hate in your eyes and he detested it.

‘Fear me’ he silently urged. ‘Love me, do as I say and I will become your slave.’

His lips brushed against yours, achingly slow- painfully soft.

“I yield.” You were quick to say, pulling as far back as you could even with the grip he had on your hair.

Fire. Your scalp felt like it was on fire.

And then he released you, taking a step back with a heaving chest. The spell now broken, it felt like the world around you suddenly resumed its orbit. Wordlessly he pressed a hand to his side- the side that you had pressed the knife- and when he pulled it away you could see that it was stained with blood.

“Didn’t you say that you were going to gut me?” There was no hint of humor in his voice now.

“I wanted to.” You conceded.

“Then you should have tried harder.”

Again you lay in bed awake, unable to fall asleep. You told yourself that it was just homesickness that had you clinging to the blankets, but you knew better. What had happened today left you rattled and confused.

There were a hundred times today that Feyd could have killed you. Everything that Gurney had ever taught you had disappeared like smoke in the wind the second that your father was mentioned. You had acted on instinct alone.

And if it was an actual fight to the death then you would have lost. Miserably.

There was something strange about it though. It never once felt like an actual training session. He taught you nothing and gave you no feedback. Not only that but. . . it never felt like he actually wanted to damage your pride. He didn’t turn on his shield before and after taunting you, almost as though he actually wanted one of your attacks to land.

He had allowed you to get everything out of your system. You hated that it had worked. It wasn’t helping you to sleep tonight though. No, you had other things on your mind now.

Like the fact that he had almost kissed you.

Your knowledge was limited where men were concerned, but you were nearly positive that there was something sexual about the way that he had treated you. It was like he didn’t want to actually hurt you, but still went out of his way to touch you.

You’d be sure to ask for someone that might be willing to train you again tomorrow over breakfast. Someone who wasn’t Feyd, preferably. Lunch and dinner had been spent in silence on your part tonight. He had tried to strike up conversation a few times, even baiting you in ways that might warrant annoyance and anger. You didn’t budge. Why? Because you hated how nervous you felt in his presence now.

Was it because you were afraid of him? That had to be it. Hearing about his proficiency in fighting and seeing it first hand were two different things. He had practically swung you around like a ragdoll. It was absolutely humiliating.

Yes, that had to be it. . . well, you hoped.

“Atreides.”

The sound of your name had you bolting up into a sitting position, willing your eyes to adjust to the non-existent lighting in the room. The sound of footsteps had your heart jumping up into your throat, adrenaline flooding your system once you realized that it wasn’t a voice that you recognized.

No one had entered the room since you’d gotten back from dinner, which meant. . .

Whoever this was had been hiding, waiting until you completely lowered your guard. You were in danger. Horrible, horrible danger.

‘Be careful. Please.’ You remembered Feyd’s words from earlier.

He had been trying to warn you.

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ೃ࿔ savage bonds taglist:

@elf-punk @shitfuckeryclownverse @mydarlingelvis @heartarianagran @ohdearmaggie @chalametism @killingboredom @obsessedvibee @avidreader73 @softboo @tedcruzumakii @luminnara @narniansmagic @torchbearerkyle @ziggy-stardust-world @tian-monique @adoxra @zz-snow-zz @tiredsleepyhead @icontrolthespice @itsparksjoyhuh @verveta345 @shegatsby @zae5 @ertepla @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @lotus-888 @meetmeatyourworst @moonchild-artemisdaughter @abswifey @flower-frog @auroranodyssey @forgedfromthestars @moony-artemis @juliskopf @moonsoulk @serrendiipty @atrxidxs @the-ruler-of-death @mintoblobo @just-pure-trash @randominterwebthings @springholland @so-dramatic1 @ashy-kit @aslutforscarletwitch99 @sofia-013 @gamorxa @ricecakeslove @alexandrainlove @selfishlittlebeing @ceres27

the wonderful line “fear me, love me. do as i say and i will become your slave” is from the movie “the labyrinth”!

#feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #dune part 2 #dune #austin butler #austin butler x reader #smut #dune smut #feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune x reader #dune x you #dune fanfiction #feyd rautha fic #austin butler fic

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obsessivevoidkitten · 11 days

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Animal Farm: Wednesdays

Male Yandere Centaurs x Gender Neutral Reader CW: Dubcon, big flaring centaur dick, a second big flaring centaur dick, general yandere behavior, belly bulge from semen and big flaring centaur dick, mentions of musk Word count: 1k (The long awaited third day of the farm harem series Animal Farm, the centaurs! The first fic, along with the others, can be found HERE.)

It was Wednesday. And Wednesdays meant two things. Tyrig and Fargrin. The two muscular centaurs that would be pounding you damn near senseless. By the end of the day, you knew from prior experience, you would scarcely be able to stand. Let alone walk.

After managing to pull yourself away from the dogmen you took a shower. You wiped the cum and sweat from your body. Not that it would matter... you would have a new layer of semen and musk on you soon enough. Evidently you took a bit too long because you were yoinked out suddenly by one of the centaurs. Tyrig.

You shivered as you were exposed to the early outside air with wet skin.

“Awe, are you cold? Don’t worry we’ll warm you up~”

He flung you onto his back and you had no choice but to grab his torso and get close for warmth and stability as he galloped over to the black-furred centaur Fargrin. His black fur and white hair looked pristine, as if he had just bathed as well.

They talked a bit and Fargrin trotted off briefly and came back with his blanket before draping it around you, covering you in his strong musky scent. Apparently they had decided against retrieving your clothing today.

You sighed and held the blanket tightly around you. You were plucked off Tyrig and placed on the comfy bench they had made for you.

“I am going to win this time for sure!” Said the blonde horse Tyrig.

Fargrin only responded with a short laugh.

This was their little custom. Every Wednesday the first thing they would do was have a race around the farm between the two of them. The winner got to be the first to bulge your belly with centaur cock and a massive load of cum.

As usual they were neck and neck the whole time. Fargrin managed to pull ahead at the last possible second. He came trotting towards you with a grin on his face. You climbed on him, knowing he would want a good run with you, always enjoying some outdoor time before a good fuck.

You clung to him tightly, your hands on his muscular abs, while he ran for a bit.

When he was ready to move on to love making he joined his fellow centaur and they took you with them into their dwelling, an upgraded stable-like building. Given all the comforts a human would expect, though everything was much larger to accommodate the inhabitants.

At least it was warmer inside.

You wanted to just get it over with so you took your place on the “sawhorse” A cushioned bench that had rests for your arms and legs. It brought you up to the perfect height for the centaurs to breed you.

“Someone’s eager,” Fargrin remarked with a smirk.

You let out a weary sigh.

“Just to get it all over with.”

Tyrig snorted as he watched Fargrin prep you.

“Whatever you have to tell yourself.”

You rolled your eyes and tried to remain silent as Fargrin lubed up your entrance before starting the long process of stretching you out and warming you up before the massive invasion of his cock. He worked quickly, but carefully. Eager to slip inside you, but wanting to be careful not to hurt you. His cock came out of his sheath and smacked against his underbelly in anticipation. He knew you were ready when his hand and part of his arm could enter you without trouble.

When you were prepped he stood over you as you lay on the sawhorse and pressed his gargantuan cock against your entrance. You winced in discomfort, but it didn’t hurt very much at all. The side effect of all the monster-man semen was that it made you unnaturally stretchy and resilient. It was potent stuff.

Once you could take his full length he spared no time in beginning to pound you properly, his cock making a perfectly visible outline in your stomach as it bulged you out. His massive balls smacked into you loudly, stinging you a bit with each thrust.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as he railed you. Tyrig watched with an erection, eager for his turn to rearrange your insides. Both of them chuckled at the perverted moans you let out as your body quivered in orgasm.

“Sh-shut up…”

You blushed deeply as Fargrin continued until finally his tip flared and his balls moved as he emptied them into you, the tip of his cock visibly twitching in your stomach before he eventually pulled out with a loud squelch. Cum came flooding out of you as he did so.

Okay Tyrig, all yours. Now it was Fargrin’s turn to just watch.

Tyrig had no need to prep you or use any amount of lube, the other centaur’s cum would work just fine to ease his cock into you. His cock drooled precum, hungry for your depths after watching the earlier spectacle. You blushed when an involuntary gasp left your lips as he mounted you.

“F-fuck…”

“Heh, you know you love it~”

You whimpered but said nothing in response. You didn’t trust yourself not to just moan incoherently if you tried to speak because at that moment he decided to pick up the pace. It wasn’t too long before you were panting and shuddering, your overly stimulated body trapped in the painful bliss of another orgasm.

“You’re such a lovely cock sleeve!”

He grunted he added his considerable load to what was left of Fargrin’s inside you. Your belly looked pregnant as your hole leaked musky semen all over the place.

You lay there limply. Too sore and sensitive to be able to move. They took you into the shower with them and cleaned you thoroughly, Tyrig pressed your face into his bulging muscular chest as the water rinsed the soap from your limp body. When they finished with that they made you some food and fed you lovingly.

That way you were well fed and cleaned. After all, if they wanted to put you through round 2 you had to keep your energy up and be clean so they could have fun getting you dirty again.

#yandere terato #yandere x reader #yandere teratophilia #monster boyfriend #gender neutral reader #yandere monster #male yandere x gn reader #yandere boyfriend #yandere centaurs #yandere centaur #My OCs #My OC Fargrin #My OC Tyrig #monster farm harem #yandere monster farm harem

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tvickiesims · 7 months

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Real Animated Pets - Goat, Sheep and Llama

This project is our fruit of labour with @deedee-sims. I was looking for a way to have more "alive" pets in Sims 2 and approached DeeDee. Luckily for all of us, she liked the idea and helped me out with the most difficult parts. This project would not be possible without you, thank you DeeDee ❤️

From the technical point of view all animals are custom collars for large dogs (and only large dogs). In order for them to work as on previews, you need to assign your dog a transparent fur (a brand new creation by DeeDee that makes dogs' fur completely invisible, included in the archive) and then pick an animal skin you want from the collar section. If you'd like to change the appearance of an existing large dog, be sure to buy it a desired collar on a community lot first! Dog's breed is also important, it can make chubbier or thinner animals. If your fur doesn't look completely transparent, be sure to uncheck all the fur accessories. I'd recommend using a default white no name breed (looks best with animations).

Swatches:

We (especially DeeDee! ❤️) did our best making new animals move as smoothly as possible, but be aware that clipping is still present in certain animations. Also, these animals behave and sound like normal dogs. Hopefully we'll find a way to mute them in the future.

Animals come with a set of objects that are more appropriate for farm animals - new bed, toy, 2 "bowls" and deco hay. Objects have morphs and dirty states. Note that the feeders works like a pet bowl meaning they will randomly rotate but it won't prevent pets from eating normally.

All animals come with original Sims 4 textures (1024x1024 for llama and 512x512 for goat and sheep), converted and tweaked by me. Animal colors are separated so you can pick and choose only the ones you want. Collection file for objects is included. I also recommend these and these Uldum rug add-ons (if you want other sizes for the hay overlay).

Polycount: Goat: 3793 Sheep: 3545 Llama: 7133

A special thank you goes to @platinumaspiration for the time and energy she spent explaining additional stuff to me ❤️

@atomtanned made cute llama recolors, here.

Compressed, clearly labelled, picture included.

Download at SFS

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UPDATE 10/10/2023

Changed pet toy animation to silent chewy one (thank you @vegan-kaktus and @executables-sims), the archive was updated but if you don't want to redownload the whole thing, here's only the updated toy.

UPDATE 12/10/2023

Added a new feeder - prarie grass converted from Sims 4 Horse Ranch. Now your new pets can feed on the fresh grass. Collection file was updated too.

UPDATE 17/02/2024

Fixed toy's thumbnail - it's no longer empty. Added a custom version for the hay rug, I'd recommend using a custom rug rather than ULDUM because it has no outdoor shadow (ULDUM can't be fixed). Updated the collection file to include new rug.

#bytvickiesims #goat #sheep #llama #sims 2 #4t2conversion #4t2 #4t2 conversion #farm animals #animals #pets #deedeesims

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katjadarkrider · 1 month

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Elf, an ekki Faernhal stallion

#digital art #star stable online #sso rp #sso #procreate #black hallow stud #star stable edit #pony #game edit #winged horse #pegasus #Elf the Faernhal #faernhal pony #sso edit #star stable roleplay #fantasy concept #fantasy design #custom horse breed

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equinista · 8 months

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Sooo, after some struggling and being a little OCD, lol, I think I may...may....have finally got his pinto mane, tail and forelock recolor to where I am at least satisfied with it. I think it suits him well, and really adds to helping him stand out and look like the unique breed he is. I also couldn't help myself and decided to add some other details/markings. He just felt a little too....vanilla...before. ---So I now present the final (for now, anyways, haha >.> ) version of my very own new breed, Thee Casanovian Warmblood---

And his name is...Casanova, of course! My main founding stud for the breed, which is a unique mixture of breeds each carefully selected for their sport-horse athleticism, versatility, and especially their unique coat colors/patterns (Trakehner, Selle Francais, Knabstrupper and American Paint Horse) to give us not just a well-conformed breed but also one with lots of chrome and flashy enough to catch the eye of any judge in any show ring!

+++Casanova is a 16.2 (and still growing! Expected to top-out at around 17 to 17.1 hands! He is a big boy!) 3 1/2 year old Sable Champagne Tovero Casanovian Warmblood Stallion. Recently very lightly started under saddle and will be brought along with compassion and light-handed training techniques to ensure a brave, level-headed and confident horse for what we hope to be a wonderful future in the Hunter/Jumper, Equitation, and even in the Dressage ring! (And uh, even some plans for some Western Pleasure training!)

#sims 4 horse cc #simblr #sims 4 #sims 4 equestrian #equus sims #sims 4 horses #sims horses #sims horse pack #sims horse ranch #sims cc #horses #equestrian #my custom horse breed #my custom sims 4 horse breed #Casanovian Warmblood #sims4 custom horse breed #custom horse breed

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ghouljams · 6 months

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Cowboy Keegan???????? I saw your tag where’s he???

he's in my wips... but he's got me kickin' my feet and giggling so he can be here too

Cowboy!Keegan who is a horrible cowboy. He calls horses big dogs because it pisses off the other ranchers and he is nothing if not a pain in the ass. He's not even a cowboy, he's got a farm full of sheep. He breeds the best shepherds in the next 10 counties and if you need a sheep dog or a good guard dog you go to him.

The first time you go to his farm he greets you with a lamb under each arm and an army of puppies galloping after him. It's adorable. You hardly expect the man with hard eyes and skull printed face mask to have a farm that's so... soft, but he does. It's clear he works hard on it too, the firm muscles over his chest and back, the flex of his biceps under the dark tee. He's a fine looking man, not much of a talker, but he sort of snorts when you ask if you can pick up one of the puppies and says,

"Should've done it when you saw 'em." Setting down one of the lambs to pick up a puppy and settle it in your arms. The lamb follows closely after him as he turns to show you the rest of the farm. You're here to pick up wool after all, and he's not a man to keep customers waiting. He gives the biggest German shepherd you've ever seen a pat on the head, and whistles for a smaller collie as you follow him into his neat little farmhouse.

There's a thorough, well maintained, garden out back that you find your eyes drawn to each time he turns to grab more raw material for you to inspect. It's the nicest wool you've ever laid eyes on, perfect for the yarn you wanted to make. His eyes are always heavy on you as you look over the fluffy material, warm enough to almost be uncomfortable. When you're finally settled and paid up, the puppy asleep in your arms, he tells you:

"That one's still not spoken for, seems to like you." And you really can't say no to either of them.

#cod x reader #x reader #keegan russ x reader #keegan russ #keegan x reader #keegan p russ #cod keegan #keegan russ x you #keegan ghosts #cowboy!keegan

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thegreenwolf · 1 year

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Hartland Plastics, in its various incarnations over the years, made a wide variety of models of domestic animals. This includes a donkey, camel, bull, and several sheep for their Nativity set. I acquired the animals from one of these vintage sets, and this is the grazing ewe. She’s been customized to a cocktail Arapawa ewe; this is a New Zealand landrace likely descended from merino sheep. I’ve given her a long tail, and a dry udder since she doesn’t have an accompanying lamb, and I painted her in Earth Pigments and acrylics. She’s nicknamed “Eileen” because she does lean to the side a bit, but as long as you aren’t rocking the shelf hard she’ll stay upright.

If this adorable little sheep needs to join your flock, she’s available at https://www.etsy.com/listing/1372713705/eileen-custom-painted-hartland-nativity

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jadevine · 3 months

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Medieval Warhorses, Repost + additions!

Since people loved my "Preindustrial travel times" post so much, I decided to repost my "Realistic warhorses" info separately from the original link, where it was a response to "how to get the feel of realistic combat."

The original link is here.

The "Warhorse" post on my blog, plus a recent addition, is here.

And here's the text for people who want to go down my "grown up horse-girl" rabbit hole right away!

Medieval Warhorses:

First of all: DESTRIERS WERE NOT DRAFT HORSES. Horse/military historians are begging people to stop putting their fantasy knights on Shires, Belgians, and other massive, chunky farm-horses! The best known instance of “a knight needs to get lifted onto their 18-hand draft horse” is a SATIRE (A Yankee in King Arthur’s Court, if I remember right), but somehow laymen decided to take it seriously.

Hell, I think the film’s historians knew that this was extremely inaccurate and begged the director not to do it.

For the purposes of this post, I will not get into the different TYPES OF WARHORSES. That is a hyper-fixation for another day, lol.

—

First problem with “Draft horses as warhorses:”

The bulk of modern-day “breeds” are far too recent for a medieval or medieval-fantasy story. Modern horse “breeds” began around the 1700s-1800s, so that’s in the EXTREMELY late-medieval/early-modern period. Before that, most medieval horses were referred to by “TYPE/PURPOSE” and maybe a “Country/Region.” “Spanish/Iberian horses” (the ancestors of modern-day Andalusians, Carthusians, and Lusitanos) were overwhelmingly popular for combat, and other baroque horses were also esteemed.

Destriers are physically average-height at 15 hands high (about 5 feet tall at the shoulder/withers), but the important part is that they are STACKED at 1200-1300lbs when most 15-hand horses are only 900-1000lbs, so that’s a quarter to a third more weight in muscle.

And remember, muscle will not make a given horse look “chubby!” Good ways to get across a warhorse’s muscles in writing is 1) how ROCK SOLID they are when you touch them, 2) their chiseled shoulders, necks, and butts, and 2) when they get into motion, especially for a fight, their muscles will flex and get REALLY defined. The three regions I mentioned are usually the most visible if they’ve got horse tack or a rider on them.

Think of the difference between “regular horse” and “destrier” as “regular Tom Hardy, who looks fit but normal,” versus “Tom Hardy playing Bane, where he put on thirty pounds and his torso and arms look like a fucking tree-trunk.”

Warhorses had nerves of steel, and the best-trained warhorses used could sprint and turn on a dime–they’ve been called “the sports cars of the medieval world.” This is a far cry from huge, sweet, and lumbering draft horses.

Besides Spanish horses, modern-day candidates for destriers would be European cobs (heavier all-purpose horses, large Welsh cobs are the best-known modern breed), and Foundation Quarter Horses (working/stock horses that can herd cattle and race and actually USE their muscles, not the bloated halter-horses who are mostly bred to look “good” to judges).

—

But if the destrier was supposed to be the horse equivalent of “Tom Hardy as Bane” and not “The Mountain from Game of Thrones,” then how could they carry a knight’s armor as well as their own?

First of all, human combat armor is different from JOUSTING armor and it is easily half the weight for better mobility. Warhorses from proper medieval times aren’t shown wearing much horse-armor, even in jousting. The stuff you see in museums is also frequently the custom-made armor for wealthy nobles, who either 1) wore it once or twice a year for public celebrations, which is also why the armor’s in pristine condition instead of dented and bloody like combat armor would be, or 2) wore it because they were rich enough to not want themselves OR their expensive horses to die too soon in combat.

Assuming that all destriers needed to carry 150lbs for an adult armored man, PLUS another 150lbs of the horse’s riding tack and armor, is like people from the years 2500-3000 assuming that everyone with a “car” must have a Lamborghini or a Ferrari that takes up a lot of maintenance (if you want to keep it looking nice, at least) and can go 200 miles per hour.

So the vast majority of realistic warhorses/destriers didn’t get much if any armor, because 1) horse-armor is for princes and dukes, not Count Whoever’s third son or his nephew that he tossed out on adulthood with barely any money, and 2) horse-armor is going to weigh down your FAST and NIMBLE warhorse. (Remember: Knights wanted sports cars, not tanks!) Take a look at the horses and knights of the website called “Destrier!” Most horses there aren’t notably tall, and they mostly wear head-armor and fancy but not heavy horse-tack like capes, instead of full barding.

Another reason average/short warhorses were preferred is for medieval safety issues: You wanted to mount your horse from the ground without help. The famous knight Jean Le Maingre was so dedicated to fighting that he could VAULT onto his horse in armor, without touching the stirrups. His instructions are, essentially, “put on your armor, find your horse, put your hands on the horse’s back/saddle, and FUCKING JUMP.”

Unless you’re seven feet tall or a gymnast, you’re not jumping onto an 18-hand draft horse.

So all those Red Dead Redemption animations where you get to alley-oop your way onto your loyal steed? POSSIBLE, IF YOU ARE CRAZY/ANGRY ENOUGH.

Quick note: In ancient Ireland, they refer to a “steed-leap” that nobles, warriors, and other “people rich enough to own RIDING horses” were trained to use–with the important distinction that Gaelic nobles often took pride in either using saddles without stirrups, or NOT USING SADDLES TO PUT ANY STIRRUPS ON. So the bulk of Gaelic Irish nobles could theoretically go Red Dead Redemption on your ass.

—

And the third reason most combat-ready warhorses didn’t get armor is because infantry (the vast majority of most medieval armies) just had a low chance of hitting them in the first place.

First of all, most horses are already faster than people. Destriers were EXCEPTIONALLY fast as the cream of the crop. For the horse to need armor, someone needs a good chance of hitting the horse.

Second, most horses are hard to kill physically because horses don’t tend to like getting stabbed or shot at, so they will likely try to kill YOU, which means that a knight and his horse are TWO fighters who are both very angry and very protective of each other. Most people love their horses, and many combatants share intense bonds! IMAGINE IF YOUR HORSE IS ALSO YOUR SQUAD-MATE!

And last of all, most horses are hard to kill mentally because when you want to use cavalry, you ALSO want the other side’s infantry to get consumed by panic and bolt for their lives, away from their companions and AWAY FROM THE CHARGING HORSES. (Which routinely leads to a slaughter, often called a “rout” in period literature, or a “curb-stomp battle” on TV Tropes.) While most knights could dish out one-on-one duels against EACH OTHER, a knight against a foot-soldier is going to have a huge and explicitly unfair advantage if the soldier is not specifically trained and equipped to take them on.

See, when you get a herd of knights on their steeds, the noise and the wave of horseflesh charging at you is going to make your reptile-brain instincts scream “NOPE NOPE NOPE, WE GOTTA GO!!!”

That instinct is so strong that infantry ACTORS in movies–who know that this is not a real war, and the riders don’t actually want to kill them–still routinely break formation and run.

It was possible to stop cavalry with infantry and end up slaughtering them instead of getting routed–it was just extremely notable.

Also, unless you’re specifically going for blood: You don’t WANT to slaughter a whole formation of knights! That means you’ve just pissed away a WHOLE lot of money that the knights represent!

You killed the horses that you could have used for your own side, and possibly bred for more high-end horses! You ruined the armor that you could have used for your own side, or at least melted down for high-quality, already-mined metal! You killed the knights that you could have sweetened up and used for your own side–or more likely, told their families to pay you if they wanted them home intact.

Barely anyone remembers that knights were as good for HOSTAGES as they were for actually fighting. (Except for Game of Thrones, and it’s still only plot-relevant for Jaime Lannister and Theon Greyjoy, and they explicitly did NOT get the protection a noble hostage should have.) It’s noted that Agincourt was a GREAT ending for England because capturing all those French nobles earned them TWENTY YEARS’ WORTH of regular income in ransoms. If they hadn’t won and gotten all that sweet, sweet French money, they would have been bankrupted and depopulated instead.

—

Two more strikes I’d feel are appropriate for “not wanting draft-type horses in combat:”

-Logistics 1: Too much food, too much hassle. Horses are already notorious for eating a lot, and a DRAFT horse that’s 2000lbs instead of 1200lbs will eat twice as much. No army wants to use their fodder for only half the number of horses they’d expect.

-Logistics 2: Too much hair, too much hassle. Shires and other British horses often have feathering on their legs, and anyone with long hair knows that loose hair/fur is a fucking PAIN. You can braid a horse’s mane and tail, but if you’re one of the many average/poor knights who DON’T have servants to take care of your horse for you, do you want to spend extra time cleaning and combing out your horse’s LEGS instead of necessary things? Like feeding them, grooming them, and checking for wounds? Nope, you’ll probably shave the feathering off or just pick a horse that doesn’t have it.

-Extra note on Friesian horses, who are RIDICULOUSLY common in “medieval” movies: Friesian horses are technically baroque horses in body form (Strong-boned! Big necks and butts!), but they’re also over-used in general, so most horse folks are sick of seeing them in movies. And if you don’t have the right kind of MODERN Friesian, you’ll probably be a laughingstock in addition to an eye-roll.

Some strains of modern Friesians are from carriage-horse lines, often referred to as “big movers.” This means “fun to LOOK AT, but terrible to RIDE.” Because, you know, those strains of Friesians weren’t meant for riding, but for PULLING CARRIAGES. Their movements are big, dramatic, and flashy… and their trot is notorious for bouncing people out of the saddle with every step. Not something you want for a knight who fills his opponents with terror.

A good riding horse’s movements are usually smooth and low to the ground, often described as “floating” and “effortless.”

—

A horse-note that I can’t figure out where to put: Many Western cultures love the idea of fiery stallions (intact male horses) for their noble knights and kings to ride into battle on, but realistically, stallions are only half of a given horse population. Many Western stallions are also gelded if they’re not the cream of the crop (which is probably at least the bottom half of the male horse population). So mares can be used by at least half of a realistic formation who just wants a warhorse, and doesn’t care about aesthetics or masculinity.

Also, mares can be ruthless and stallions can be nervous wrecks! Horses are living creatures, with personalities and feelings!

Horses also aren’t very sexually dimorphic, so a 1200lb war mare is DEFINITELY a match for a 1300lb war stallion. And remember how Loras Tyrell used a mare in heat to distract The Mountain’s stallion? That happens with a lot of stallions… almost like they’re living creatures, with instincts that they can’t always control! So if you know when your girl is ready to go every month, you can play dirty in a joust, too!

Just remember that you’re taking an equal risk, since your mare will possibly try to let a stallion mount her instead of fighting. You will either need to bail when she starts making googly-eyes, or you need to know you have ABSOLUTE loyalty from her, and she will listen to YOU instead of “the hot dude I just met five minutes ago!” HORSES ARE LIVING CREATURES, WITH INSTINCTS THAT THEY CAN’T ALWAYS CONTROL.

Then geldings will be used by at least another quarter of “the knights who cannot afford a horse good enough to keep his testicles,” so that leaves “a quarter or less” of knights who can realistically be mounted on stallions.

WORSE NEWS: If you geld a stallion too late (usually once they’re MOSTLY physically mature at 4-5 years old), that risk may never go away–so you’ve got a gelding who’s not breeding quality, but he’s still chasing mares in heat and fighting other stallions in turf battles, without understanding that he can no longer make babies!

On the other hand, some cultures don’t geld stallions because they view it as unnecessary or outright unnatural… but they also don’t want half the horse population distracted by pretty mares, or fighting with other stallions who walk by the pasture, so those cultures breed them to be sweet and easily managed (outside of battle, at least).

In short: ALL HORSES HAVE POTENTIAL TO BE WARHORSES, WHETHER THEY HAVE BALLS OR NOT.

—

Update, Feb 2 – Another day to expand on that “Different types of warhorses” mention!

Much like the common misconception of “all knights must be at least 6 feet tall and have 200 pounds of muscle” varied in real life due to genetics, cultural values, and logistics problems, the assumption that “all knights MUST have top-quality destriers that cost seven times the price of a normal horse” was not the case for the vast majority of “knights.”

Knights would have either “the best horse they could AFFORD” or “the best horse FOR THEIR SPECIALTY.”

A poor knight, or one of the early Middle Ages, would have “one horse that they’re with all the time;” that horse may not be pretty or come from fancy breeding lines, but they would get the job done and most definitely be taken care of. A wealthy knight of the later Middle Ages, when everything got more expensive and status more codified and finicky, would have two or three horses–one horse for warfare and one for regular riding, with the really wealthy knights having a third packhorse to carry all their stuff. (Moreover, they would have at least one servant to help take care of three horses.)

A muscled sprinter like a destrier is better in tight quarters and for short bursts of speed; to bring in the modern example of a classic/Foundation Quarter Horse, who are ideally “short-legged and low to the ground,” these dudes can literally hit the ground running and reach top speed in a few steps/seconds, so compare that to a sports-car going from zero to sixty miles. The tradeoffs?

1) You need to be able to hang the fuck on… and to avoid getting pitched into a wall/enemy WHEN THEY STOP.

2) That full-throttle gallop will really wear out your horse. A good commander will not bring out their heavy cavalry right away, because you also have to figure out how to get them back from the enemy’s side of the field.

In very simplistic terms, this is one of several problems that the battle of Agincourt had for the French; you had a bunch of hoity-toity noblemen with no proper battle experience who all wanted to do things their own way… and how do medieval noblemen usually want to fight a war? JUST FLOOR IT AND HIT THINGS AS HARD AS YOU CAN.

That went so badly that the recorded death-toll for the French side of Agincourt has been commented as “a roll call for French nobles.”

A destrier would not be suitable for a scout or light-cavalry; they’d need lighter and ground-covering horses to cover rough terrain, and to chase down the enemy for long stretches–akin to a modern-day Thoroughbred. For period pieces they might resemble an Akhal-Teke or “Turkmene” horse. A modern-day Thoroughbred horse can “only” reach forty miles per hour at a gallop, but they can keep that up for a whole mile or longer. So now your knight’s problem is “Hanging on for two or three whole minutes,” and anyone in performing or athletics will explain how long and agonizing a few minutes would feel on a rampaging horse. Have you seen how stacked a racing jockey is? The general consensus I’ve seen from equestrians is that barely anyone in any other horse-discipline is that built.

Meanwhile, an ideal light-cavalry horse would need longer legs for a ground-covering stride, and they may or may not be taller as well; as seen in the Akhal-Teke article, many endurance horses tend to show a lot more ribs and bones than other breeds, due to how lean they are. But think of them less as a dainty riding horse and more like a hunting greyhound/sighthound–all muscle, no fat!

The other type of light-cavalry horse would likely be a pony, used to going for miles on rough terrain, with little if any feed.

EDIT Feb 4, 2024: My post got cut off, so here's the rest of it!

The other type of light-cavalry horse would likely be a pony, used to going for miles on rough terrain, with little if any feed.

A period-accurate scout's horse was known as the Irish hobby, ridden by their eponymous hobelar troops. These little dudes were VERY little and about 12-14 hands high (48-54 inches, or 4 feet tall to bit under five feet tall). They were known to cover 60-70 miles a day in their raids, which my "preindustrial traveling" post notes is the EXTREME upper end of mounted distance travel. Their modern descendant is likely to be the Irish Connemara Pony.

Very wealthy and/or lucky European horsemen could probably manage to buy/steal an Arabian horse, as they remain exceptional endurance horses to this day. However, excessively cold/wet climates will need a lot of upkeep for a desert-bred horse to stay healthy.

While Arabians are known for their adorable "dished faces," this is not actually required! Many well-bred native lines have a regular face (ie, a "straight nose/profile") but they are from well-bred parents and have the capabilities of other Arabians. To the other extreme, you have some modern show/halter lines with REALLY exaggerated heads that hit a lot of people's "Uncanny valley" buttons, and they find it creepy/weird instead of refined. This kind of "seahorse face" would NOT be seen in a period piece.

Notice how the smaller a horse gets, the more ground it can cover? This is partly because size only matters TO AN EXTENT for "how long a horse goes," and partly because of physics! Less weight for a horse to drag around on its own body means more energy for putting miles behind them!

#writing #writing reference #medieval #preindustrial #horse riding #medieval warfare #horses

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aicosu · 8 months

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Guys, I hate to do this.

Any of you who know me in any circle know that I'm a very professional, very private lady who hates any sort of disc horse breeds that might give me a headache. But this one is important, and my goal here is the integrity and reputation of artists.

For my credentials: I have been a part of five zines in the past. Two I moderated, and one I ran, created, laid out, printed, and shipped in its entirety.

So anyway:

HELLCHEER ZINE BULLSHIT

I joined Hellcheer and the Kindred Freaks Zine very late. Well, after sign ups, check-ins, etc. I saw it was happening in april-ish and shot a DM to the twitter to join. I did both a full art page and a cosplay page.

At the time, the server was quiet but kind. We got updates on the number of orders and books being made.

@Lawless is the runner of the Zine. They created and organized it. They are in charge of the main emails, the selling website, the orders, the shipping, and the funds. (To be clear, this level of sole responsibility is not ABNORMAL in a zine. And is not always an issue.)

@Valerie is the 'social media' mod. They are in charge of managing announcements and answering questions on Twitter and Tumblr. Please keep in mind: No one wants anything but a fast and easy recovery for both Lawless and their mother. Medical emergencies, heck—LIFE happens. It's always okay to put a hiatus on anything, even product with money, in order to take care of yourself and family. Every single contributor only wants them to be clear in what they need and how we can help.

So lets break down what's happening.

Back in May, Lawless went radio silent on the status of books and merch coming in. Another contributor and I, @Toguchin, start dming Lawless to make sure everything is on track. They come back after a week and apologize for being MIA, explaining that their mom got sick. We thank them for all their hard work and wish them and their mom well.

On July 15th, after contributors and customers inquire on delays to meeting the announced shipping deadline, Lawless makes a twitter post saying shipping has started and contributor copies will be happening. They proceeded to go MIA from the server discord and have been since.

The following week, contributors and customers discover that shipping HAS NOT started. Labels have been created and printed, but nothing appears to be in transit at all.

Toguchin and I started getting reached out to by customers worrying their packages are lost. We report this to the zine server to NO RESPONSE. Except @Ashlee, the discord mod who also has heard nothing.

July 20th to 22nd with customers complaining and theorizing a scam in mind; Toguchin and I propose that PDFs be given out to assure and apologize for delays.

We as a server discover a few things: 1. We cannot access the list of buyers at all in order to email apology zines because Lawless did not share the account information with anyone. 2. We cannot access the main email for the same reason. 3. Valerie, the social media mod, deleted discord and distanced themselves from the Hellcheer fandom and has not been checking the Twitter or tumblr, or discord notifications since May.

Ashlee and Ichikun contact Valerie to sign on.

I made a new email and said fuck it, we need to do something to assuage fears, let them send receipts to honor their zines. Valerie didn't know what to post or say or how to answer everyone, so I gave them a copy paste.

Still no words from Lawless but hoping for the best knowing the have a medical emergency, Ashlee and I begin answering the new email for PDFs, but cant help people change addresses or give them any update!!!

Throughout the weeks mods and contributors ping Lawless constantly asking if they need any help! Any help at all, answering emails, changing order addresses, heck a few of us ask if we can pick up the books and packages and ship stuff for them so they can hands off the project and take care of their mom. No response.

We send message after message saying if Lawless can share picture proof, that would be great cause scam theories and chargebacks are starting. BUT ALSO, we let Lawless know we and customers will ABSOLUTELY UNDERSTAND delays if they just communicate it. That if they post in server and on Twitter that shipping needs to wait a month or two, no one will mind. No responses.

July 31, Lawless makes a Twitter update with comments disabled that they are shipping ALL packages that monday with a picture of packages. They also call Valerie privately and tell the issue that USPS refuses to pick up shipments from Lawless has, and they can't leave their mothers side from the post office. They also claim they can only deliver ten packages at a time at the post when they go. *USPS has no such rules. Me and other mutuals who run shops have never had such a problem.

A week later, we realize that customers and our packages are still not in transit. Labels printed only. Most of us assume all packages are just label printed and sitting at Lawless' house.

We beg for updates from Valerie or Lawless. Valerie doubles down on Lawless old reasonings and also officially goes MIA until present day.

Throughout August, USA packages get delivered. A few more updates are made straight to Twitter and Tumblr with comments off. Radio silence in server.

As packages arrive, we all become aware from people's posts and pictures that random Stranger Things Art Stickers are included. No credit to any artist is given? No contributor is responsible for this art. These are suspected to be BOUGHT from Amazon. STOLEN arts amazon sellers resell in packs. NO contributor is okay with this!!! Valerie responds with no response at all.

As of now:

No response to missing digital copies. Ashlee and I cannot give out any without receipts because we have no access to buyers list. Nor can we answer missing packages inquiries cause we have no info. International packages unaccounted for. SCRUNCHIES FREE OR OTHERWISE UNACCOUNTED FOR. Zero word on contributor copies. Zero word on donation status. Zero word on generated profit or book and shipping cost. No way to verify funds at all. No word from Lawless to contributors since July 15. From Valerie since the 31st.

Some notes:

Turning off twitter comments was NEVER what any one of us wanted. A ZINE LAYOUT was never shared. So until people had them in hand or in PDF none of us realized that the credits DO NOT POINT TO ANY SOCIAL MEDIA. All of our usernames are handle-less? This was extremely disappointing. This one matters to me: Our FanEdit artist was not aware their work was not getting a full page. Again no pre-layout was shared. So their work is tiny and in the margins of the front and back. That's not okay. All of us wanted to help in any way we could. NONE of us doubt Lawless intentions or emergencies. But lying, misleading, non-communicating and turning off comments are all things we did not consent to. All of us only wanted a cordial, honest response. None of us actually cared about delays as much as we did communications. There has been many noticeable times Lawless has been online, posting privately or otherwise, even active on Discord and has not reached out.

Why make a post:

Customers should know contributors fought for them. That we did everything we could and our reputation as artists in the fandom shouldn't be tarnished cause two creators decided to disappear. Contributors should get their copies. Many of us BOUGHT bundles. I've been in five zines and every single one gave out free contributor copies WITH merch!!

I'm also attaching all server screenshots for integrity. I'm in half a mind to release the zine PDF publicly, for free, for everyone at this point. I personally think it's only fair since many are still missing just that. But I do not want to insult anyone who paid for just the PDF regardless of the potential contribution to charity. But it's really up to customers, not me.

#hellcheer #hellcheer zine #kindred freaks #fucking sucky ass post to make

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misguidedasgardian · 1 year

Text

The Winter Sun (11)

11. Backlash

MASTERLIST

Summary: Cregan was making up the time with you, meanwhile Aemond leaves but not without a last strike

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Fem!Targaryen Reader

Warnings: Death of characters, cursing, medieval and asoif customs, arrasment, sexual kinda arrasment, incest (c’mon is HotD), AGE GAP, Cregan is 12 years OLDER than reader), SMUT, oral sex (f receiving), praise kink, breeding kink, innocent kink (?), a hint of somnophilia, might miss some warnings

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 2.8k

Notes: Short but bittersweet!

“Come on wife”, Cregan whispered in you ear, dropping lazy kisses all over your neck and in the sweet space towards your shoulder, “we need to say goodbye to our guest”

“You… mmm”, you interrupted yourself when you felt Cregan’s fingers tickling your belly, his big hand placing itself a little down your belly button, you were sure that if he pressed a little he could feel himself. “You… are still inside of me”, he retrieved himself and then he thrusted inside you again making you whimper in need. After the first time he took you, you both snoozed off, but you woke up on your side, Cregan stuck to your back, raising your leg, inserting himself inside of you again, this time, the pain was gone and only the pleasure stuck

“He is a big boy, I’m sure he can find the way out by himself anyways”, he mocked, kissing your neck roughly

“Cregan”, you called needy

“Yes, love?”, he mocked as he thrusted lazily in and out of you, making you bite your lips and forget everything that was in your mind, “we have a long time to make out for”, he said

“You have”, you moaned, “I wanted this since the first night”, Cregan growled, like a wounded animal

“I should have taken you since 14 days ago, four times a day at the least”, he said against your ear, leaning in leaving sloppy kisses in your cheek, “so now you owe me… 56…times”

“I can’t”, you whined, “I’m gonna’ pass out”, you babbled somewhat incoherently. He hugged you tightly against him

“It’s alright love”, he whispered, “I got you, you are so good to me, so sweet, you feel so good”

“Mmm Cregan”, what you just learned it was called an orgasm hit you like a wild horse, it made you shook in his arms as he kissed the side of you face

“My good girl”, he grunted, and because of the angle, and the fact that you squeezed his cock like a fist, he didn’t last much longer, filling your womb, again. He came out of you then making you shudder, and he turned you around and held your naked body between his strong arms

“Are you alright my love?”, he asked gently, providing soothing caresses in your back

“Yes” you answered softly, dropping lazy kisses on his naked chest

“You are doing so good”, he said, kissing the top of your head, “you are so amazing”, and you preened at his praise, “If it is ever too much, and you want to stop, you tell me, alright? And I will stop”

“Alright”, you whispered softly

. . .

Aemond watched the “frozen wasteland”, from his window, the night was falling over the North, it was going to be a cold night.

He was furious, he couldn’t find you anywhere, he couldn’t find that mongrel anywhere either, you were together

Stark was with you in his rooms, ruining you for him, defiling you, as he was scouting this horrid place looking for you he heard you, moaning like a whore, he felt disgusted.

It should be him making you cry of pleasure

He couldn’t take you now, he just couldn’t, you didn’t want to go with him… for you to truly be his he was going to have to take some people out of the way

His dark thoughts were interrupted by a faint knock on the door, and then opening slowly, he turned to meet Winterfell’s maester

“Your grace”, presented the maester, “a letter for you, from Dragonstone”, he said, delivering said scroll

“What does my half sister has to say to me?”, he asked, disgusted, taking what the old men offered him

“Is not from Princess Rhaenyra, it is signed as Daemon Targaryen”, Aemond gave the maester a nasty look, enough for the old man to sigh loudly and leave the room. Only when he knew to be alone, he undid the small scroll and read the missive destined to him, from his uncle.

As he read the short and bitter lines, he got angrier word for word, and when he finally finished off, he read it again, to make sure he had understood that the tone of the message was indeed threatening, and commanding.

When he finished he threw the message into the fire.

Who was he to threaten him?

If he was angry before, he was enraged now

Another name to add on that kill list

The smartest thing to do was to make a calculated retreat, he had made his claim, he needed to be smart about this… soon… he would come back for you. But first, oh first…

You thought you had gotten rid of him, that you could just simply run to the gods forsaken part of the continent and that was it.

No, you were his, and he needed to remind you of that.

So, guided by instinct, he got out of his room, walked towards the great hall, and there you were… His blood boiled when he saw your gorgeous hair messed up, your cheeks rosy and a strange expression on your face, your dress was loose, barely put on

You looked utterly and completely fucked and ravished

By that wolf

Your eyes found him and you gasped, hugging yourself

“You are no longer welcome here Aemond”, you said wobbly

“What about that northerner hospitality?”, he mocked

“No longer extended towards you”, you said defensively, he hummed

“I see, would you really kick me out in the midst of night near winter? you know how cold it gets up there”, he said

“Tomorrow morning you must leave”, you said then, and he nodded calmly

“Sure, I will”, you didn’t even realize how close he had gotten to you, but once you did you took a step back.

You were waiting on Thelma, she was cooking for you and Cregan a late dinner you were going to have in bed, and now you were cornered by Aemond again.

“You have to stop”, yous aid, “I am Cregan’s now”

“For now”, he said bitterly

“What do you mean?”

“I’m saying, I wouldn’t sow an entire wardrobe of winter dresses if I were you”, he said, and you took a step back

“I’m married to Cregan under the Old gods, it cannot be undone!”, you said, getting angry, instead of scared. He leaned into you now, but you didn’t move a muscle, you knew he enjoyed your fear, you knew he enjoyed your blushes and your nervousness, your shyness, you were not going to give them more of that. So you stood still, your eyes on his, as he whispered in your ear

“My father, the King, is dying”, he said darkly, “When my brother is King, he will annul your marriage”, he threatened, “and I will come for you”, that surprised you deeply, you couldn’t believe his words. His father was indeed dying but the threat came so easily to him it scared you, how he could speak so carelessly about his own father, and now… he was threatening you once again. Implying his family was going to take over the throne, commit the highest of treasons

“Rhaenyra is the true heir!”, you answered, and he only chuckled, “your drunk of a brother will never be King!”, you spitted out.

“When the time comes”, he continued, “I expect you waiting for me at the gates, or I will burn this place to the ground and everyone on it”, he said, and you took another step back.

He released you and separated from you when he heard Thelma coming in with a tray in her hand and a wide smile on her face. She handed you the tray and gave Aemond a nasty look

“I hope you do well, my dear Lady of Winterfell”, he said gently and almost sarcastically, and then he walked off.

And he left you there

He threatened you, he threatened to kill everyone in Winterfell if you didn’t willingly submit yourself to him.

How serious were you supposed to take this? He clearly wanting to get inside your head, and he had succeeded

Aemond smiled all the way back to his room, he had won, that is what he thought

But right now, he was going to spend the last night here, before he would return to the south. There were things that needed to be done, that his family needed him to do.

The very next morning, he was getting ready to leave, Northerner hospitality was no longer extended to him as the people of Winterfell barely looked at him, less of them offered him to break his fast.

But the smile didn’t wipe out from his face as he walked beyond the walls of Winterfell, as he walked towards the monstrous Vhagar.

Your dragon was nowhere in sight, if it was, he would probably command Vhagar to slay it, so you would be trapped here, and defenseless, but Vhaelar was a fearsome beast.

And just like that, he left Winterfell, and you behind…

For now.

. . .

You had managed to sweep the threat away as you walked back to the room with food for you and Cregan, and he smiled brightly, still naked seated in the bed waiting for you, and he made you forget all about Aemond

So that night, after an afternoon of love making with your husband you were having dinner in bed. You smiled, everything was going to be alright. Cregan was opening up to you. So you ate and cuddled together.

Until, as you were speaking to Cregan about your favorite books you had read in the Red Keep’s library, when he leaned in and started kissing your neck softly

“Cregan…”, you giggled

“There is something I owe you”, he said mindlessly, you shuddered and moaned when he sucked on your pulse point, a weak spot of yours, you realized soon enough. But he kept dropping kisses and little bites and sucking on your skin, down your neck, and soon you were laying down on the bed with Cregan kissing your collarbones, dangerously close to your cleavage

“What are you doing?”, you asked, your voice trembling

“You’ll see”, he disposed of your night dress pretty quickly, and then he kept on his trail of sloppy kisses, marking your skin with fire and wetness

He continue his trip south, kissing between your breasts and over your sternum, he dropped wet kisses around your belly button, and when he continued down, you gasped

“Cregan?”, you wanted to sit on the bed, but he placed his hand on your belly and pushed you down, making you lay down once again.

“Relax sweetheart”, with his other hand, he pushed your thighs open and accommodated himself between them, and when you felt his hot breath in your pussy you gasped once again, “I’m going to take care of you”

And then you felt him, his tongue lapped at your folds and you moaned wantonly, feeling something you had never seen before, you opened your mouth in need as a soundless moan left your insides

He didn’t stop there, he grabbed your thighs with his big hands greedily, as he digged into your pussy, sucking and licking your clit, and then rubbing his nose as his mouth kisses your folds and his tongue got inside you

“Cregan… oh!”, you couldn’t even complete a thought as one of your hands grabbed his dark locks, he moaned against your folds and you almost screamed

Then he laughed

The thunderous laughter made you feel like you were struck by lightning

He ate you out like you were the tastiest of desserts, like he was a man starved and you were the only food left. Your orgasm started to built so easily, and you wonder if every woman felt like this, if every husband was able to please them like this

And you guessed not, and you felt like the luckiest woman on earth.

You came undone in his mouth, and he drank all your juices happily, then he released you, kissing his way off of you, he dropped lazy caressed in your thighs as he looked at your face

And you couldn’t believe what just happened

“That was… ohhh Cregan that was amazing!”, you moaned, and he chuckled darkly

“I was going easy on you wife”, he purred, leaning in and kissing you in your lips, making you taste yourself in him

“Cregan…”

“Mmmm?”

“I want you inside me again”

“Gods, I’ve awaken a monster”, he mocked, “my kinky, insatiable, beautiful girl”, you giggled as he accommodate himself between you, and he entered you slowly, your pussy sucked him in, he didn’t even need to help himself inside

He groaned as he placed a hand by your head, to support himself over you to not to crush you

You felt scared you were going to get addicted to this, to fucking, to making love, you looked up at Cregan and wonder if he was always going to have this hunger for you, you hoped he would.

When the sun came up on the horizon, he found you both cuddling, you taped to his side, your hand on his chest, his arm around you, keeping you close

“Are you sure you want this?”, he asked

“You are annoying me”, you warned, and he chuckled

“Alright, alright, I just want to make sure”

“I married you, we are making a baby, I’m going to give you children…”, you listed, and his fingers started caressing your back gently

“Very well, my beautiful, dutiful wife”, he said hoarsely

“I saw Aemond yesterday at night in the hall”, you said softly

“Did he try anything?”, he asked, and you swallowed the know in your throat

“Sort of…”, he looked down at you wide eyed

“What?”

“He is leaving today…”

“What did he say to you?”, he asked again

“He said that when the King is dead and his brother takes the throne… he was going to ask him to annul our marriage, and he was going to come for me”, you confessed

“He said what?”, he asked, and now he was angry, not at you, but at the situation, he sat on the bed and turned to look at you, and you regretted ever telling him in the first place

“I don’t know what to do”, you confessed, “What if he is telling the truth?”

“He threatened you”, you whimpered in fear, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I wanted him to leave”, you said, “I don’t know if those are empty words”

“They might as well be”, he said, “he wouldn’t dare take the North as enemies… but he implied that the Hightowers are going to usurp the throne”, he said, “and when… if that happens he might do as he said”

“But Rhaenyra is the heir!”

“My love! how can you not see it?”, your eyes filled with tears

“I don’t want anyone to die for me”, you whispered, “I was selfish and because of me people might die”, you whimpered, “perhaps the best thing is do as he told me, perhaps we should annul our marriage…”, you whispered, looking down, “or he will…”

“No”, you looked at Cregan, who was looking at you unblinking and serious

“But Cregan…”

“You are mine”. That made you stop all your movements, as you looked at him in panic, he seemed to notice, so he cleared his throat, “you are my wife, you are the Lady of Winterfell”, he dictated, “you are not going anywhere against your will”

“There is still time… I can take a moon tea”, and the way he looked at you made you interrupt yourself

“Do you want to?”, he asked, alarmed

“No! I want to be married to you, I want to have your babies”, you promised

“Then you will”, he promised, “You are not going anywhere”

“Not if the cost is for everyone in Winterfell to die burned!”, you said

“Nobody is going to die”, he said, so certainly you believed him, “we need to stop him, stop them”

“How?”

“My father sworn to Rhaenyra”, he said, “If they try to usurp the throne, war will ensue”

“Cregan!”, you cried, and he hugged you tightly, held you against his chest

“We are going to get through this”, he assured you, “I will protect you, my sweet wife, nothing will happen to you”, and you nodded, you believed him. Cregan was the Lord of Winterfell, the leader of the entire North…

“We have the entire winter to figure out what to do” you whispered, “not even dragons can fly north in winter, their wings freeze and wither, they can’t stand it”, you assured him, “us riders can’t stand it either, the cold is almost unbearable as it is in summer sometimes”

“See?, when spring comes, everything will be better”, he promised.

Taglist! ❤️

@severewobblerlightdragon @missusnora @stargaryenx @poppyreader @chainsawsangel @court-jester-stuff @batprincess1013 @eddiepicker @lyannesworld @arujee @kamisunshine @mss-nthng @partypoison00 @grimistangel @elleclairez @may-machin @prettykinkysoul @justagurlwithships @champomiel @laura-naruto-fan1998 @zoleea-exultant

#misguidedwinter #house targaryen #targaryen!reader #targaryen!oc #hbo house of the dragon #house of dragons #house of the dragon #house stark #cregan #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark #cregan x reader

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