#can you IMAGINE the spread you could make with that much meat

[voidpetrova]

newt fucking you in his WCKD uniform. help?

the sleek, dark-gray jumpsuit with the WCKD emblem prominently displayed on his chest clung to his sweaty, sticky body. the uniform was designed to look utilitarian and functional, featuring numerous pockets and practical details. newt's tousled blond hair and rugged, yet youthful features, contrasted with the seriousness of his uniform. his intense blue eyes and added to his distinctive appearance. despite the uniform, his expression of lust and hunger reflected what he had really been feeling. the face mask was crucial, covering the lower part of his face, from his nose down to his chin. the black face mask added an air of mystery to newt's appearance, concealing part of his face and making him seem enigmatic.

“come on now, baby,” he murmured from his place between your thighs, tongue shooting out to drag through your pussy, his mask pulled over his head. the low and gentle vibrations of his deep voice send shockwaves of pleasure directly to your dripping hole, reverberating through your clit until you nearly began to cry. “thought you promised to be my good girl, huh?” he reached for the nearby vibrator that had been sitting on the bed in wait, bringing it into tact as you whimpered and attempted to shut your legs in retaliation. unfortunately for you, his lean frame kept them open, as did the threatening glare of warning that he shot you before turning the toy on.

the sound of the vibrations alone made you whine, a chill flying straight to your core as you began to breathe just a little quicker, eyes locked on the weapon in his grasp. you knew what was coming next, aware of the pain and the pleasure that awaited you fought against your orgasm. newt knew how to be cruel, but you didn't imagine him being as cruel as he was now, with an unbreakable desire to ruin you.

the moment the tip of the vibrator came in contact with your clit, you began to cry, already too sensitive from the sensation of his tongue inside you. even without the climax, your body felt spent. bruised and overstimulated. you didn’t think you could take much more. no trength to hold off the way he had demanded you to. “shh,” he cooed from between your legs, attention zeroed in on the movement of the toy. the way it circled the aching nerves, the way it pressed into them, deep into the bone. “you can take it, you’re okay.”

he was focused and merciless, digging the tip of the toy deep into your cunt before dragging it across your clit, using it to spread your lips open. the toy loses itself in your arousal, the material coated with your juices as he circled your fluttering hole with hunger. “you’re close, aren’t you, sweetie?” he purred, shifting closer, pressing a kiss to your clit.

when he pulled the toy away, you nearly cried, tears pooling in your eyes as you called out his name. the empty feeling lasted no more than a few seconds, not until he pressed a kiss to your forehead, pulling his mask back down his face and under his jawline, only to strip himself of his boxers instead. he was throbbing. long, hard, throbbing and leaking from the lack of contact. it was angry, with the leaky, red tip and unbearable pain searing through him. that pain didn't last much longer, not when he was pushing himself into you without a care in the world.

“newt,” you gasped, finding your fingers intertwining with his, clutching his hands with all your might as he forced your cunt open. “'s too much, newt.” you couldn't see his face, but you could practically feel, touch and hear the smirk on his lips. he fucked you open, in such a beautiful position, you nearly came all over him. he was hovering above you, grunts leaving his mouth as his hips rutted eagerly and desperately, as if he was trying to savor all of you at once. his hands were gripping your tits, fingers trailing down your waist before digging into the meat of your hips. he needed all of you, and he was determined to get it.

[thegnomelord]

With all these M!reader courting (and practically rizzing up everyone) in their own hybrid way, imagine poor Ghost, he's like toothless, doesn't know how tf to court someone of say, even his own species because he was once human

And with that rant about all the absurd ways of courting, what would he call as his own?

Would he give gifts like Gaz and Price? A piece to remember them by?

I doubt he'd be the physical type like cuddly ol soap who loves to scent,

He's practically a shadow (literally and figuratively) and I feel like the best he can do is stare and slowly blink like a cat (and let's be honest most of the time we don't see his eye) so he might even just act like a stalker and watch from afar, not much of a scent even on him if he's near, even when in the midst of battle

So what can he do then? I feel like going to Price is his best bet and when he tries to scent something like Soap it smells like nothing

I feel like he'd beat himself up on it

(Also fucking love your courting works, I've been eating that shit up its become a hyperfixation)

- ☕️ Anon

I reckon that staring would be less of a wraith thing and more of a Simon thing. Because like, wraiths don't reproduce, they're made not born. So poor Simon just has to try to use the knowledge he had before he died.

CW:NSFW subbot ghost, topdom reader, rough and quick

He likes you.

Just like he's a Riley, just like the sky is blue, his affection for you is one of the few truths of the world he doesn't question. Only problem — he doesn't know how to tell you. You're not human and neither is he, not anymore, but he's woefully unprepared when it comes to you, doesn't know if he's supposed to go about it as a wraith or as a man.

He tries; Simon's phone is full of open tabs containing every piece of information about your species, trying to find grains of truth in the contradicting mess of words. He's memorized how you like your morning coffee down to the last flake of sugar, watching your face carefully when you trudge to the communal kitchen to find your mug steaming and everything laid out near it. He knows your schedule inside out, always a few minutes earlier in the gym when you come in, offering to spot you, his dark eyes roaming over your sweat covered skin. His gaze is always flickering to you, regardless of what you're doing or where you are — watching, guarding, making sure the world doesn't take away that spark like it did with Simon Riley.

But you fail to notice it, him. Or maybe you do but don't care. Don't see him as anything but your teammate, like you should, like he should. God, what is he even doing trying to fucking woo you like some lovestruck Victorian gent. . .

Simon feels like banging his head against the wall.

Maybe then something in his imperceptibly rotten skull will come loose, tumble around in what's left of his brain like a snowball rolling down a hill to form an avalanche, or at least a vestige of a good thought; an idea, something he could use to get out of this rut.

He doesn't go to Price for advice. The old dragon finds him, knows him long enough to figure out when Simon's up to his throat in shite. Price sits down next to him as they watch you and Gaz spar, "Alright, spit it out." Price hums as he lights his cigar.

Simon's lips form a thin line beneath his mask, his fingers gripping the meat of his arm to keep his form stable. His eyes don't stray from you, cataloging every trail of sweat as it rolls down your skin, watching your muscles flex beneath your skin as you throw a punch, making a mental note to show you the mistakes you make in private and—

His shoulders fall, "'m fucked." The words escape him like he'd been punched in the gut.

Price gives him the side eye, looking him up and down. "Doesn't look like you enjoyed it."

"Hah." Simon says in a dry tone. "Always a comedian captain."

Price chuckles, wing spreading out to bump against his shoulder. "Jokes aside," he lets out a small puff of smoke, "You could just tell 'im."

Simon's eyes narrow, "What, not going to suggest I go find some obscure shite ta gift him?" If he could find some concrete information about your species courting habits he would have done so by now, would have happily torn up Heaven and Hell looking for whatever would make you look at him the same way Price looks at Kyle.

"No," Price rolls his eyes, standing up and stretching. "Just go talk to 'im you bloody muppet, going to creep him out if you keep staring like that." He nods his head towards you.

Simon's head is a dark sea of thoughts as he spars with you, tries to make it seem like nothing's wrong but you catch on quick; he's distracted, falling for moves he'd once chastised you for pulling, the edges of his form crackling like the static of a tv, shadowy smoke rising from his blackened arms as he throws a punch that goes wide.

He grunts as you knock him to the ground, your hands on his shoulders to pin him down. "You alright?" You ask, your brows furrowed. "You're not fighting like you usually do."

You can barely see his dark eyes narrow, his body still beneath yours. "I'm fine." He growls out, tries to ignore how the warmth of your body against his makes him feel, nibbling on his nerves like a craving for a drug he can't have.

"Uhuh," You hum, a little confused why he's letting you pin him down so long. "Come on Ghost, you're not getting soft on me are you?" With a huff you attempt to pull away, knowing you couldn't force words out of his mouth.

The sudden lack of your warmth is what forces his body to move before his mind does, shadows shooting out to grab you before congealing back into his arm, pulling you down so his lips can crash on yours.

You grunt into his mouth from the surprise, your eyes wide with surprise. Simon's frozen heart cracks just a bit when you don't respond, only to melt when you finally kiss him back. Your lips feel like heaven against his, Simon's eyes shutting and long tongue slipping into your mouth.

You choke a bit, pulling back to catch your breath, your eyes widening as Simon's long tongue slips back into his mouth. "Fucking hell Simon." You pant,

"Got a whole bag of tricks." Simon says, his throat dry. "I-" He begins to say, thoughts running on how to tell you he wants you but no words coming out, something clogging his throat like molasses.

"Yeah," You grin, the lights overhead casting a halo around your head. "I know." Tipping your head down you catch his lips again, your kiss deep and rough, Simon's teeth digging into your lip until it bleeds, your sharp fangs nipping his tongue, blood mixing in your mouths, arousal starting to course through your veins.

Simon's hands grope your ass, pulling your crotch down on his so your cocks can rub together. Simon greedily swallows your groan, his arms starting to fizzle, shadowy smoke wrapping around you to keep you close as his hand sneaks down to undo your belts, fishing out your cocks.

"Christ," You groan and pant into his mouth, grabbing hold of both of your cocks and rocking your hips into his, pleasure buzzing up your spine.

"Don't bring 'im in here." Simon growls and throws an arm around your neck, demanding your attention with a kiss, longue tongue pushing half way down your throat and hips bucking up to rub his cock against yours. "Just us here."

You moan against his lips and fuck, if that isn't the prettiest sound he's ever heard, his mind clouding over with pleasure and before either one of you knows it Simon's cumming, pulling you down with him, your combined cum painting both of your stomachs.

It takes a few moments for Simon to catch his breath, his pupils blows wide as he stares up at you. "Shite." He breathes out, boneless beneath you.

You grin, "You can say that again." and you lean down to kiss him again.

[kates-cosmos]

My experience with Analog Horror/ARGs and why you should check them out

Marble Hornets: the classic, and a big favorite of mine for obvious reasons. I cannot stress enough how good and spooky that series is, and the ToTheArk videos gave me nightmares, love it! <3

If you're into Slenderman stories, you should definitely check it out. The acting is very well done and the story is awesome overall :)

The Sun Vanished: the ARG that started my interest for ARGs, and especially enigmas/internet puzzles. Unfortunately I was not smart enough to figure the stuff out by myself, so I just watched explanations on it. Highly recommended if you like post-apocalyptic settings and subtle horror.

The Mandela Catalogue: possibly the series that brought back my interest for these things. I have only watched the first two seasons of it, as I sadly lost interest after a while, but from what I have watched, I would recommend it to those of you who like horror with religious themes (which is a big thing for me) and most importantly, trust issues. Do keep in mind this series deals with more serious and dark topics, though you have probably heard it already.

Local58: the analog horror of all analog horrors, Local58 barged in before TMC took the spotlight. There is so much going on and all of it is very interesting and scary. America's pride leads to its doom, the moon can control electronic devices, and weird creatures spread through the world. If you like stories that leave you not understanding what the hell just happened but loving it anyway, you will love Local58.

Rocket Archives: A single-video series that has unfortunately been taken down for reasons I am not certain of. But if you're curious what it was about, the video presented a reality where us humans were forced to leave Earth with how hot it was getting, and moved to contained bubbles in space. Suddenly, uh oh! The sun's getting closer! Outer Wilds moment! Everything is melting! Humans are gone and the sun is... alive???

Analog Archives: made by the creator of Rocket Archives, has also been taken down but can still be found re-uploaded. The series is slightly similar to Local58, as in it also focuses on broadcast hijacking used for ending off humans. The series also includes a few religious topics that can get very dark. I love it. "Nature Show" makes me tear up with fear every time.

Gemini Home Entertainment: ALL-TIME FAVORITE MOMENT!!! I don't think I need to explain why I love this one so much. GHE leaves a lot to your imagination/speculation, while also twisting your head directly into the direction of the threat and forcing you to look at it while you squirm in fear. GHE is subtle in the most obvious way, obvious in the most subtle way, and most importantly, IT'S COSMIC HORROR, BABY!!! THERE IS A PLANET IN OUR SOLAR SYSTEM THAT GOT HERE UNINVITED AND NOW IT WANTS TO EAT US!!! UGHHHH I can't put in words why I think it's so good, it just is. Watch it. The Gardeners are cute, I swear. There's even a plush of them.

Monument Mythos: something something alternate realities, something something time loops. I have not watched all of it, barely even half, but I deemed it a little bit too confusing for my brain. BUT! If you're into things that boogle your mind, you might really like this series! I mean, world monuments are alive, what could be scarier?

Vita Carnis: EW. (affectionate)

But, seriously, if you like gross, you are certainly going to like this series. It's meat, and it's alive. Although, I did stop watching it because it got a tad too graphic and violent for my taste, but if that doesn't bother you, then I recommend it a lot! The editing is soooo good, and some of the creatures are very likable and cute ^v^ (the others are gross and I do not want them near me I do not WANT FUCK OFF)

Don't Look at the Moon: Minecraft spooky. Do I need to say more?

[onmyyan]

I'm sorry my but my friend brought the delicious idea to my attention and it made me lose my mind a little

Also ik his anatomy ain't accurate but we're gonna ignore logic for a bit okay?

Spot using his powers to fuck you from anywhere anytime.

You're settling in for bed, laying on your soft tummy, left thigh cocked up, your arms tucked underneath your pillow, the summer heat was unforgiving so you opted out of a blanket tonight something the multiversal villain outside your window was very grateful for.

The short little pj's you had on had shifted in your sleepy movement as you readied for bed. Spot felt goosebumps shoot across his body or at least what he remembers the sensation of them feeling like, a shudder runs through his chest, swallowing thickly at the sight of your creamy looking legs.

God if still had the ability to he'd sink his teeth straight into them, especially on the tender meat of your inner thighs, he could imagine the sweet noises that would leave your lips if he only could.

He takes a choppy breath, his body shivering in anticipation as he brings his fingers to the portal on his face, deep within that darkness was his tongue, he opens his mouth, wrapping his long mutated tongue around the two appendages, soaking them with his spit, he pants, creating a small portal and sticking his hand through, he trembles as he pushes your underwear to the side, his free hand gripping his thigh so tight it left welts as his right pointer finger gently traces your lips.

A whine builds in the back of his throat as he circles your clit in figure eights. His head growing fuzzy as you buck into his touch, "There we go- that feels good doesn't it?" He whispers to himself, his free hand stroking his pulsing length, he hisses, thumb toying with the slit in the head, a constant stream of pre drips from the weeping tip.

The noises coming from his throat are sinful. He has three long fingers curling in and out of your cunt, the way your hot walls clenched down around him had his wrists pumping even faster, he could feel your slick cunt gushing around him, you were soaking his hand, his long, monstrous tongue rolling out of the portal in his face, drool dripping from the appendage.

He can't help himself, opening another portal he sticks his tongue through and flicks the dripping tip of it inside you along side his fingers, you feel him hum happily at the taste, your eyes slamming shut as he begins inching the wet tongue deep within you, reaching further even than his long fingers.

He can hear you wailing through your cracked window, his long, thick tongue begins ruthlessly slamming against the spongy spot inside your trembling core. Each brush against the sensitive spot had you yelping, your thighs shake as the force from his ministrations pushed your hips into your mattress.

He makes you cum around his tongue and fingers two times before his cock is aching too much too ignore for any longer, he uses both hands to spread your ass and hold your hips up, he gives your plump ass a loving squeeze, it almost feels tender. And that's the only warning you get before he's sinking inside, he throws his head back a deep, animalistic groan comes from his stomach, his hands grip your soft flesh that much tighter and he's immediately pussydrunk.

Stuffing you to the brim, his breath heaving as he humps himself against the wall of the roof across from your window, a gutteral growl of your name leaves him as his hips immediately set a frenzied pace, your eyes roll back, fingers gripping the sheets as you arch your back, rolling your ass into his brutal thrusts.

The lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin echo throughout your room, you can't see anyone behind you, but there's no denying the thick cock pounding deep within your gummy cunt, a pool of your arousal gushes out everytime he thrusts, a trail dripping out of your core and down your thighs, a dark puddle forming beneath you.

Your moans bounce off the walls of your room, and just a few feet away Spot is groaning and whimpering as his fingers drag lines through the concrete wall he's holding onto for dear life, "S-Shit! Hah oh, oh baby girl!"

He knocks the air from you with every thrust, your moans are borderline pornographic as you feel another gush of your cum spurt out around the fat cock bullying it's way inside you.

[deandoesthingstome]

a waiting place

A/N: In honor of @sillyrabbit81 and her milestone event. Congrats friend! I don't know if this is cheating but I took two screenshots, sent one and kept one for myself. I thought it would take me days, but I sat down and this feeling just poured from me.

Her event masterlist is here.

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Reader (my first time with writing him, please be gentle)

Prompt: Slow & Romantic // Geralt // Mirror Sex

Summary: You have finally found a place of your own

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: there is sex in this story so NSFW, 18+, MINORS DNI

It was rumored to have been made with magic, but when you finally stumbled across the mirror tucked deep in the recesses of the farmhouse abandoned in Ebbing after the start of the Northern War, it was draped in a dusty cloth and looked anything but.

Still, the vibrations were calling, remnants of your ancestors, whose mastery of craft had placed the various pieces of skillfully forged metal and intricately carved wood together around the silver-backed glass. When you touched it, a warmth spread from your fingertips to your toes, and you knew you were home.

Exactly what kind of home had yet to be determined, since your skills were still newfound and you’d yet to master any sort of transformative spells. Backbreaking hard work was all you were able to put into it, but the efforts were worth it once you were able to lay down in a bed of your own making, the mirror standing in a newly prominent place of honor against the wall across the room.

In the morning, you readied a hot bath, filled with nourishing herbs and healing tinctures, and placed a tray of fresh bread flanked by cured meats and cheeses on the small table beside the wooden tub along with a bowl of warm stew and pitcher of ale. 

And exactly three years after your initial meeting, you called out to him, desire coursing through your veins and energy pulsing in your reflection, clearly bound with the mastery of your ancients.

“I am here. I made it. I need you.” You repeated the words in thoughts through the spells you chanted so that when he arrived, he would know why. Pulling someone through space and time was never easy, on them or you. But the yearning was too great, fueling the need to feel his skin against yours, his breath in your ear. 

You helped him out of his clothes and into the water and waited for him to invite you in next, knowing full well the need he’d feel when he’d recovered from the journey. He held your arm and wouldn’t let go, even as his grunts and groans indicated his agitated and depleted state. So you sat next to him as long as you could before it became apparent you’d need to replenish the hot water in the bath soon. 

He reached for you once the steam was rising from the tub once again. You dropped your sleep shift to the ground and let him guide you into the water with him. “The floor will dry”, you told yourself. “This moment may never come again.”

His gaze was tender and grateful and you smiled back at him, pleased at his reaction to being called here.

“Were you finished?” you asked. “Did I time it right?”

“Just,” he grunted.

“I’ve missed you. So very much.”

“I’m glad you survived your trial. Is this where you’ll stay from now on?”

“Need to know where to find me?” you smirked.

“And when. Yes.”

“I imagine there’ll come a time when I’ll need to go back. I can only learn so much more from books; I’ll need another mentor soon.”

“But for now?” he trailed off with a quirked brow.

“For now you find me here.”

With the water cooled and your bodies’ heat risen, Geralt stood with your legs wrapped around his waist, lips still locked against yours, a hand cradling your ass while the other pressed against your back to keep you tight to his chest. He stepped with ease out of the tub and to the bed, where he laid you down and peeled your limbs from him.

“I want to see you.”

“You’ve seen me. We’ve been in that water together for ages. Please,” you reached for him, but he stood still, head cocked to the side regarding your naked form. You watched him breathe in deeply and sigh the air out as he closed his eyes in contemplation. When he opened them again, you could swear you saw sparks as he acquiesced to your desire.

He crawled over your naked body, drops of water from his long silvery hair landing to cool the fire on your skin. But that flame for him would never douse, not in a million years. And while he had given in to your need to touch him and hold him in bed immediately, he wanted to take you apart slowly.

“Is that it?” he asked, head turned toward the mirror where he could make out his image poured over you, your leg draped over his thigh.

“Yes. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

He pulled back, taking you with him as he shifted to his knees and deftly turned you away from him, facing the mirror.

“What it reflects, certainly.” His voice was low in your ear as you watched the backs of his fingers caress your arms and down your sides. You knew his cat eyes could see more details in that image across the room than you ever could, but he did a good job of putting on a whole show of movement you could see as well as feel, placing kisses along your shoulder as a hand returned to cup your heaving chest. He slid his other hand forward around your waist and down over your belly, reaching for the heat between your thighs. Your eyes closed involuntarily when his fingers found their way inside you.

“Please watch. I want to see all of you, especially your eyes, while you come undone for me,” he whispered in your ear.

You wanted to feel all of him inside you immediately; you were practically bursting with the heat of your need for him but since you knew that would never wane, you gave in and watched the mirror while he slowly and methodically stroked you to orgasm. 

You felt yourself floating back to the bed and watched him peer down at you again while he took himself in hand and lined up at your entrance. He let out a long, low groan as he lowered himself to pulse into you slowly. 

“Fuck, you feel good.”

“I’ve missed this too, Geralt. I wish it would never end.”

“I’m going to make this last, alright?” he asked, head pulled back to gauge your interest.

You nodded and smiled, pleased he felt up to a long night after such a journey. You’d absolutely have to place a mark next to the entry in your spell book you’d used to prepare the bath, as the concoction had clearly done its job.

He didn’t lie. For hours, he teased and tortured you with his cock, grinding you deep and slow into the mattress while he caressed your mouth with his. His tongue tangled against yours, leaving only to trace lines of lust along your neck or chest. Sometimes, he’d roll you over him and urge you to take one of your many releases while riding him upright, his hands firm around your waist. 

You lost count of how many ways he brought you pleasure before he finally pulled you to hands and knees in front of him, once again facing the mirror. Once he was fully sheathed inside you, he gently lifted your torso against him, hand gripping lightly at your neck.

“I want you to watch again. Let the source of your true power soak up every bit of ours together,” his voice rumbled in your ear and vibrated against your back. When you nodded, he pressed you back down, chest all the way to the bed while he gripped your hips tight and rocked into you.

Even now, in this position usually reserved for wild abandon, Geralt made love to you. His movement was calculated, his strokes long and deliberate. His eyes sought yours in the reflection, though it was hard to tear your view away from where his hips disappeared behind your ass.

“Will you come with me one last time?” he begged, completely out of character and for a moment, you felt a sadness you hadn’t expected. Surely he wouldn’t let this be the last time you found each other across this vast lifetime?

“If you promise to come back,” you answered, as if you could ever hold back your release once he began to pump in earnest.

“When I can, yes.” 

With that most useless of promises secured, you smiled and nodded again. “Come for me, Geralt.”

It only took a few more strokes before he came with a growl, and you were lost in a blinding explosion of lights. Collapsed next to one another, you steadied your heart rate and burrowed into him as he curled himself around you. His sustained heat would never allow you to sleep long like this, but you sighed with content anyway. 

You had a home to call your own, and Geralt was willing to follow you here when he could, and that was all you cared about for now.

Taglist: Everything Henry - Please don't hesitate to let me know if you want on or off, though remember sometimes Tumblr won't let me tag you.

@kittenofdoomage @mayloma @fvckinghenrycavill @geralts-yenn @raccoon-eyed-rebel @sweetdreamsofgelato @liveoncoffeeandflowersss @kebabgirl67 @beck07990  @itsrubberbisquit @feelmyroarrrr @dedicated-to-mr-cavill @alexakeyloveloki @marantha @aireraume @angelmather1  @lizzystuffsthings @enchantedbytomandhenry  @omgkatinka @littlefreya @avengersfan25

[lanabuckybarnes]

Brain rot, Brain rot.

18+ Minors DNI

(I do not own any photos used, credits go to the original owners)

A little piece I’ve created about my favourite roles that Seb has played (the ones I’ve watched so far) because Mr Lee Bodecker and Nick have got me in a literal chokehold.

( I know about their red flags but girlies im colourblind).

Just wanted to try something a little different, Warnings are under the cut.

Pairing: Lee Bodecker x reader, Nick Fowler x reader, Steve Kemp x reader, Bucky x reader

Warnings: Spoilers for the movies, mention of Cheating (It’s Lee being unfaithful per usual), Dark Lee, Manipulation, Throat fucking, Size kink, Breeding Kink, Mentions of Pregnancy, Daddy Kink, Overstimulation, Teasing, Cock Warming, Pussy Eating, Mentions of Cannibalism, Biting, Dry Humping, Dark Steve I suppose (Steve being Steve), Voyeurism. DO NOT READ IF THESE TRIGGER YOU, if I’ve missed any warnings please let me know.

Whew Lordy.

Lee bodecker is a filthy man, with 100+ glaring red flags and you still peruse him?! It’s a wonder the townsfolk don’t have you sent to the looney bin. He absolutely loves it when his little mistress (you) wraps herself in his leather coat, just the thought of you wearing it gets him all possessive.

He loves a lady he can manipulate— bend and train to his will. A girl that when he comes stomping into her little cottage she’s there with a steak on the table and her mouth open for him. Not only does a sweet little lady appeal to him because of their naivety but because of just how shy and innocent they really are.

If you in a pretty white frock while he fucks your face is the last thing he sees as he closes his eyes on this world, he’ll die a happy man.

Also size kink demon, loves when his thick hand engulfs your thigh or when you have to go onto your toes to kiss him, loves it when one of his big ole palms can hold your wrists above your head while he pounds away at you. It’s like a ritual now for him to sit his fat length over your pussy just before he plunges in, he loves imagining just how deep he’ll be hitting you when he fucks you.

Talks about getting you pregnant A LOT. You never knew it was a kink till you were talking with some of the older ladies about your ‘mystery man’. When you brought up the fact that he’s constantly moaning about swelling that little belly up, giving you his son, they all confirmed what he was experiencing was a thing most ‘manly men’ felt. They assured you it would be a great honour to have a man’s son but you played with the hem of your dress in guilt and shame, he wasn’t your husband and he thought of you as nothing more than his little side piece to make up for his boring wife.

Please ride this man while wearing his hat, he will not survive.

Nick Fowler, I don’t really know much about him— I mostly watched clips of him on YouTube but I just imagine him with a phat daddy kink. When you whimper daddy for the first time he just about spurts right then and there.

Loves teasing the shit outta you, how many times have you came on his fingers and tongue? You don’t know but you feel fucked out— you don’t think you could handle another, Nick just scoffs.

“Come on baby another for me” he encourages, his sopping fingers circling your sensitive bud and all you can do is lie back and take it.

When he’s had a real bad day all he wants is for you to get those fucking clothes off and sit on his cock, you don’t have to move he just wants to feel your warmth and how you squeeze against him.

Now if you think you were insane to go after someone like Lee you must actually be crazy to let Steve near you, even after finding out his little ploy, how you were nothing more than meat to him— you still let him fuck you. This man knows how to eat, he’s down there for every course, slowly spreading your folds with his fingers and liking a strip up from your hole to your clit before diving straight in. He’ll have you loosing your voice over the way you scream when he drags orgasm after orgasm out of your pretty body

Constantly talks about eating your flesh while he kisses you, occasionally biting down nice and hard leaving teeth marks all over the meaty parts of your body. Even before you found out he was a cannibal he’d be biting and licking on you, he called it sampling the meat before he bought in.

Dress up nice and pretty for him, he loves it. He loves nice light colours and lacy material, the way it makes your skin look all flawless and doesn’t clash with the dark marks he’s given you has him hard in his pants quicker than you could imagine. Another man who loves being fully clothed while you’re practically naked. Has cum in his pants an embarrassing amount of times when you’ve straddled him, grinding your lace covered kitty against his bulge.

Although I write about him all the time I can never fully flesh out one of the fantasy’s I think of him in. This man, although awfully shy about his sex life with others, will and has absolutely ruined you in public places. A restaurant, he’s played with your little clit under the table and fucked you in one of the bathroom stalls, in a car while you, Sam and Steve were going on a road trip. Even once in Tony’s house during a party— Tony had almost caught you two bumping and grinding in his laundry room, the thought of how close you two were to being caught had Bucky biting on your shoulder and coming all up your back quicker than he’d ever done before.

—

I have no idea where all these come from but I’m loving it.

[bonefall]

I have my own clan project and I need some quick advice. I calculated the feral cat population I chose to base the setting on, and I got back that the feral cat population is usually one tenth of the human population in the area. Instead of throwing that 15-30k cat estimate away ("THATS A LOT OF DAMAGE") I wanted to at least massively increase the amount of cats in each clan and let the cats in the city soak up the mass majority of that number. So, anywhere from 100-150 cats in a clan I decided, a HUGE leap from the 30 something in the normal clans.

The cats DO have access to large prey- one clan hunts goats by using gravity for example, but I'd love to know how I can wring out every calorie and nutrient to make this massive population viable eating-wise. I'm thinking that the massive size would encourage hunting larger and larger prey (no sweet fat of the hog in the area, but deer and caribou are here), but do you think the small prey population would still be able to support the large clans?

YOWZA you're going to start having some troubles there, but I do think it's doable if you start giving them some serious advances. I don't think this is sustainable if you're doing a canon-compliant Clan; but you can squeak by if you're using fire, traps, and domestication.

So, even above the technological level of BB, but you're dealing with a BIG number here. So anyway, here's how to REALLY maximize the amount of meat you have in an area;

Domestication You seem to be somewhere cold, but I could imagine this being HUGE for Clans that are set up in South America. Natural home of the guinea pig, a living, breathing sausage. Even without guinea pigs, you might be able to have them domesticate pigeons, goldfish, mealworms, mice, maybe even chickens if you're REALLY advanced with making your fencing. What you can't make up in livestock, you can supplement with hunting. Check out CGPGrey's video on domestication, and think about how to adjust the information for a species of cats which is very small.

Fire You need fire. That 20% to 50% increase is HUGE when you're cutting back on prey.

Traps, spears, other hunting tools, for catching larger prey You can use gravity to chase a goat or a sheep off the side of a cliff, but you don't want to rely on this too much if those are human-owned. A few going missing once in a while? That's expected. If they go missing with regularity? Those humans are going to check in. Another thing to be careful of; It's a LOT easier to do this trick with an entire herd than one individual. In fact, the deadliest wolf attacks are accidental, like this one time two accidentally fenton'd 143 sheep to their deaths. OOPS!!! Plus, it straightup doesn't work on boars. They will turn around and kill you to death. You're going to want some cats who can figure out how to set traps and handle weapons. Forget about killing boars if you don't have spears like BB!ThunderClan does.

Spread Out You might even benefit from having the Clans all be interconnected, honestly, regularly trading resources. You mentioned having your city Clan, so you could be having them plus one of the further-out Clans (maybe even have one be nomadic) be the ones who are known for food production, with some Clans supplementing their diets with imports.

There IS a group kind of like this in BB, actually; The Tribe. This is actually why they have those three "Wards" I mention-- the Cave Ward, which is the "canon" Tribe, doesn't actually produce a lot of its own food and has a lower population than the Mountain and River Wards. But, put together, they significantly outnumber the Clans of the Lake.

[danikamariewrites]

could i pls request feysand x reader, where they meet tamlin at some meeting/party and he finds out y/n exist and gets mad at the whole relationship. Imagine reader punches him for all he did to feyre and feysand are so proud🥹🥹

Beast

Feysand x reader

A/n: I love this! I would punch Tamlin to get him to stop speaking

Warnings: canon typical violence, Tamlin being a bitch, and injuries

As you touched up your lipstick one last time you picked up the train of your dress and rushed out of the room. You were fashionably late. Not that Rhys and Feyre would mind. Others who didn’t know you would mind. To many you were just another Night Court emissary in the Inner Circle. But only a few knew you were with Rhysand and Feyre.

You had yet to meet two of the High Lords. Thesan and Tamlin. You were looking forward to meeting Thesan, Tamlin on the other hand…not so much.

Feyre and Rhys told you their history with Tamlin. Ever since then you’d held a grudge against him. He hurt the loves of your life, how could you be civil with him? You told Rhys you’d try to be on your best behavior but as soon as he turned his back you winked at Feyre.

Two sentries opened the double doors for you as you approached. You could hear the chatter in the room die down a little as you glide into the room. You feel the eyes of the other High Lords and their delegations on you. “Apologies for my late arrival my Lords.” You give a small curtsy before heading to where Cassian has already pulled your chair out for you.

You thank him after he pushes you in. Feyre holds your hand under the table and you smile at her before you turn back to the table. As the meeting goes on you feel Tamlin’s questioning gaze on you occasionally. Every time you tried to glare back his head snapped away from you.

Your eyes narrowed, one of your brows raised at his behavior. Curious. You wondered if he’d introduce himself at the party later or if he’ll avoid you.

Later that night you changed into a shimmering black gown with small diamonds decorating the skirt that swirl up the bodice. “You look like beautiful tonight.” Feyre whispered in your ear. You smiled and turned to her. “You as well baby.” You leave a quick peck on her cheek. “I’m going to get some wine, would you like a glass?” “Ohh yes please.”

You give her hand a squeeze before walking over to the refreshments. This months meeting was graciously hosted by Helion who loved a good party. He spared no expense when it came to good food and drinks. The decadent spread in front of you made your mouth water. quiches, meat carving stations, mini cakes and other pastries lay in rows on tables.

You make a plate to share with Rhys and Feyre as you make your way down the tables to the drinks. Some Day Court specific wine caught your eye. You made a mental note to try it later, if you could remember. You skillfully maneuver two glasses of strawberry wine between your fingers.

As you turn, a broad chest clad in forest green. “Sorry,” you look up at the male and are met with emerald green eyes and somewhat wicked smile. You felt anger roll through you. You pushed it down and force a fake smile to your face. “Hello, can I help you?”

Tamlin’s smile turned to a smirk. “I couldn’t help but notice your late entrance earlier today, my lady. I just wanted to say you look stunning this evening and introduce myself. I am Tamlin, High Lord of Spring.” You shoot him another fake smile. “Pleasure, but I must be getting back to my friends.”

“Allow me to help-“ he attempted to grab one of the glasses from you to hold but you held on with an iron grip. You felt Tamlin tense as he wrapped his hand tighter around the glass. You pulled back and forth, the glass eventually broke in your hand. The glass dug in and sliced your palm. You dropped the plate and broken glass, hissing at the cut nor dripping blood down your hand.

You heard Tamlin start to apologize as the people around you went silent and stared. Rhys was in your mind in an instant, “Whede are you, love?” “By the drinks.” You heard two sets of rushing footsteps, Rhys and Feyre appeared beside you. Rhys cradled your bleeding hand in his, “Gods, are you alright love?” You nod slowly, still staring at your bleeding hand. “Let me see,” Feyre said gently guiding your hand toward her. She uncurls your fingers as hers glow with her golden healing powers.

Your skin starts to stitch back together leaving your palm scar free but still smeared with blood. “Thank you.” You give her a weak smile. Feyre leans in to lightly kiss your lips but you deepen it, knowing it would drive Tamlin mad. As you turn back to Rhys you see Tamlin’s eyes practically bulge out of his head.

Rhys pulls out a handkerchief from his suit and wipes the blood from your hand. “You sure you’re ok love? Do you need anything?” “No I’m fine, thank you.” Rhys looked to Tamlin, a scowl on his beautiful lips. “Care to explain what happened Tamlin.” Rhys growled out. “Do you care to explain?” Tamlin practically screamed back. Rhys side stepped in front of you two. “Watch your tone.”

“What? Was Feyre not enough for you? And was Rhysand not enough for you? You two are the-“ before Tamlin could get his words out your fist connected with his nose. A crunching sound echoed in your ears as blood spattered from from his nostrils.

Tamlin holds his nose, his eyes wide with shock at the shot you just landed on him. “You don’t get to say anything about them! Or us! Just leave it.” You whirled on Rhys who looked beyond pissed. “Can we go home?” Feyre nodded, “I’ll get the others, you take her.” You watched her walk off to find the rest of the group until darkness swirled around you.

When it faded you were standing in the foyer of the River House with Rhys. He placed his hands on your shoulders, looking intensely in your eyes. “You shouldn’t have done that.” His was was smooth and quiet. You were shocked, fully expecting the opposite from him.

“I won’t apologize because I couldn’t let him just say nasty stuff about you two.” Rhys breathed out a soft laugh and pulled you to his chest, cradling your head.

You hear Feyre winnow back with Azriel and Cassian. She embraces you from behind, leaving a small kiss on the back of your head. “How’s your hand?” You pull away from them to look at Feyre. “I’m fine. What about you, are you ok Fey?”

Feyre looks between you and Rhys. She looked like she was holding something back. “I’m…ok. A little shaken by his outburst. And your punch. But ok.” Rhys picks Feyre up, she lays her head on his shoulder. “Why don’t we all go to bed. It’s been a long day.” You hum in agreement.

tags: @rigelus @auggiesolovey @bubybubsters @baybay123455 @msiecrane @aroseinvelaris

[anjelicawrites]

Cringefail Throuple 💡

Since Michael and Reader had to go back home for Christmas, they rush back to Oxford to celebrate the new year with Billy. Lots of alcohol, silliness, and sex occurs.

Beloved Cringefail Throuple💡 anon, have I told you how much I love your brain?

NSFW and 18+ only under the cut!

Warnings (kissing, biting, scratching, fingering, threesome, anal, p in v sex, anal fingering, overstimulation, squirting).

It all would have been better if you could have access your respective colleges, alas they're closed until the holidays are over, which forces you and Michael to sneak into Billy's flat to doll yourseves up for New Year's eve. Billy, of course, doesn't know, he thinks you two are celebrating at home, with your families and will be back before the new term starts. This had been the plan, then you and Michael missed your puppy boyfriend too much to wait and your heart hurt too much at the thought of him alone on New Year's Eve as well. And here you are, back to Oxford, ready to have fun, and sex.

When you, finally, emerge from the bathroom, you've gone full goth mode: black make up, corset, fishnet stocking and high heels. Michael stares at you with his mouth hanging, eyes shamelessly on your barely covered cleavage.

"Maybe we should stay in. Wait for Billy here."

He's not drooling, but might as well be. As he stalks towards you, he can feel his cock growing in his pants: maybe you'll help him with that? Lend him a quick hand?

"No, no, no, no, Mr. Gavey. We're here for a reason." You stop his advance with a hand on his chest. "We could have a little head start. It wouldn't be the first time." Michael growls, trying to state his dominance.

Your fingers cupping his growing erection shatter any form of control he's trying to assert over you.

"We're going to go to the pub and wait for midnight there. Then, only then, we'll go home and fuck the first day of the new year away."

Michael's eyes almost cross when the pressure around his cock grows; as dominant as he is, he loves when you take the lead and make him behave, makes it all the sweeter when he punishes you for it.

When you two arrive at the pub, there's already loads of people ready to spend the night, groups of friends singing drunkenly over the muted TV. How you and Michael manage to find a small table is a miracle, so is the fact that said table is in a small nook, so that Billy can't see you, not yet.

You two have to sit very close to one another, pinned as you are between two loud groups of people and Michael can't pass the occasion to trail his hand under your, admittedly, short skirt.

"Don't." You chastise him "What? I don't know where I'm supposed to put my hand. We're a little pressed here." He says with a smirk. "You think you are so smart, are you?" You cross your lags and block his advance. "I am." He uses his trapped hand to slide you and the chair closer to himself. "And you will pay for this."

You feel the heath of his words spreading all over your body: you can't wait.

"Promises, promises." You murmur against his ear.

You yelp when his trapped hand curls cruelly on the meat of your tight, the pitiful sound you've just made drowned by the voices around you.

"You're such a bastard, Gavey." "And you love me all the more for it." Michael has to crane his neck to see the counter. "He's back!"

You can't see Billy from your position, you can imagine he's returned from the storage room and it's your time to shine.

You stand up and adjust your ridiculous short skirt, before you saunter to the counter, where your other boyfriend is; you can feel Michael's eyes on your skin, you burn with his desire. Knowing that he wants and needs you makes you wet, that you can reduce his powerful mind to mush makes you ride the biggest power high of your life.

"Hello gorgeous." You position yourself so that your cleavage is in full view of Billy, who stutters and blushes when he sees it. "Two beers, please?"

You laugh when he doesn't move, doesn't speak, just stares at your breasts: have you broken him?

The spell you've put him under breaks when the other server tells Billy to get a grip on himself and he blushes even more, his big blue eyes finally traveling to your face.

"Hi handsome." You repeat. "How? Why? Is Michael here as well?" "Yes, baby. He's thirsty and hungry as well, not for food, though."

If self combustion were possible, your poor Billy would have burnt on the spot: you two are back and all his need for you two explodes in his loins, his cock stirring in his jeans.

"We'll be at the table nestled in the corner." You say and wink, swaying your hips as you walk back, beers in hand.

Thankfully there's too much noise and people for Billy's colleague to truly notice your interaction or the fact that he's far too willing to go around the tables to collect the empty glasses and plates and that he takes a bit too much time whenever he disappears where the table in the nook is, only to reemerge dazed, having being kissed senseless by you and Michael every single time.

When midnight approaches, you and Michael manage to grab Billy, so that you three can be together when the clock on the telly strikes twelve. All the people around you are too busy celebrating, to notice the passionate kiss you three share at the far end of the pub.

No one is surprised when you two wait for Billy, at the pub you and Michael are known to be his friends and have accompanied him home countless times, the only difference is that you two are drinking shots with the staff, this time, whilst the pub gets closed for the night.

How you three make it home is a miracle, full as you three are with alcohol, swaying as you walk to Billy's apartment.

"How long are you going to stay?" He manages to ask in between kisses. "Until the term starts." Michael answers, his hand grabbing Billy's arse. "We'll need more condoms, then." It's the answer he receives.

The three of you might be drenched in alcohol, yet your combined libidos aren't affected, the kisses shared on the way home have only turned you three on even more: you're wet and loose already, your boys hard in their trousers.

You feel their hands on your body when the door of the flat closes, Michael's hands on your breasts, his lips on your nape, Billy on his knees, face buried under your skirt. You moan at the double sensation, Billy's mouth on your clothed cunt, Michael's fingers pinching your nipples over the thin shirt you've been wearing under the corset.

You three undress sloppily, hands in the way, teeth biting the skin revealed. You barely manage to get to the bed, clothes left everywhere, you lover's fingers buried in your cunt, your hands jacking their cocks.

You three fall in a heap on the mattress, kissing, biting, licking, hands exploring, you between your lovers, their teeth on your skin, their fingers fucking your hole and pinching your clit until you come with a whine. You find yourself on your back, legs over Billy's arms, his cock pushing into your pulsating cunt, grunts of pleasure at how tight your muscles are clenching around his erection, your whines of overstimulation drowned by his moans of pleasure as Michael's fingers fuck against his prostate, Billy's cock fucking you following the rhythm the other has imposed.

Billy buries himself inside your cunt when Michael's cock head starts entering him.

"You haven't been playing with yourself." You hear Michael grunt.

Billy's answer is a moan of pleasure, his face hidden against the side of your neck.

"It means I have to fuck you open again."

You can feel the short, deep pushes of Michael's cock as he moves Billy's hips to follow his movements, Billy's moans and whines of pleasure as he tries to move, to push back, but he's stopped by Michael's hands on his hips. Under them, you're writhing and begging, your cunt still reeling from the previous orgasm sends shock waves of pain and pleasure, your clit fires under the pressure of Billy's hipbone, your muscles clench almost painfully around his manhood, you lovers's grunts of pleasure are all you hear, until Billy whips his head back and comes with a shout.

He's trembling over you, his cock still hard inside your hole fucks you faster, now that Michael can push freely inside of him. You can only curl around Billy's body, your teeth biting his shoulder savagely as he pistons inside of you and fucks himself on Michael's cock, your body taking the brunt of their lovemaking. Your hips desperately try to move away, the stimulation too much for your poor body, yet your orgasm crests and crests, until you come, nails scratching you lovers' skins.

They keep fucking you and one another, Michael bends himself over Billy, so that you three can kiss messily, his hands now on your hips to keep you still, make you take it like you should. It hurts and drives you wild, your cunt a fist around Billy, your feet kicking at nothing in the vain attempt to escape the pleasure.

"I can't! I can't!"

You scream and beg, but Billy's cock drags against your G-spot again, the pressure of their bodies writhing over yours builds inside your belly, until it snaps and you squirt with a shout, your lovers following you with grunts and whines of pleasure.

You three are a trembling mess of limbs on the bed, of lips seeking skin, of nerves singing. You are not sure of who cleans the mess and covers your body with the duvet, you are just floating, riding the endorphins high, safe in your lovers's arms.

"Happy New Year."

Someone says in your ear, you can only babble something and curl tighter around whichever of your lovers is the closest: happy New Year indeed!

Cringefail Throuple taglist: @fan-goddess

[yanderemommabean]

imagine worshipper yandere overhaul obsessing over you and thinking you're a goddess, divine and pure in every way and worshipping you and doing w/e you want sorry if this is weird or out of the blue but i have FEELINGS

The gloved hands run over your calves as he lays you down on the fresh mattress. You’re ethereal, even when unconscious and unaware, precious and inviting. He could be a predator, ready to take a bite of you between his viscous teeth, and you’d be none the wiser. 

So perfect. Untainted, yet so easy for the vile and filthy to get a hold of. He’s lucky to have found you, to be blessed by whatever rules these wretched planes and bring you where you belong-His home. 

Kai was by no means a saint, his gloved hands covered in blood and sin since the day his heart started pounding. But you? With your gentle touch, brilliant eyes, and ways to melt the coldest of hearts, he’d happily repent. He’d slaughter all of the city in just a snap if you asked, no hesitation. 

Ah, but his plans and devotion to you can’t be explained when you’re resting, now can they? As much as he adores watching you rest, he needs to awaken you, bring you back to him so you can see that your knight has come to rescue you. 

“Oh, my sweet divine creature” he purrs, massaging your calves as he gently spreads your legs apart. “Come back to me, cleanse my heart with the sight of your vibrant eyes”. He shudders when the skin of your ankle brushes against his wrist, so warm and soft. He debates removing his gloves entirely, but shakes the thought quickly. 

He has to secure you first and foremost, then he can see if you’ll bless him with touch and maybe even taste. Oh to have you on his tongue, allowing him to drink you in, drown in your euphoric essence, it’s enough to make the usually composed man salivate. 

You rouse slowly, eyebrows pinching when you feel cold metal clasp around your ankles and secure them. You twist, straining your arms that were placed behind your back, sensing that they were bound as well. Terrified eyes meet obsessive, sinister ones as you snap awake to see what in the world was going on, and if you had any hope of escape. 

The minute you saw who was holding you captive, you knew that chance was slim to none. 

Overhaul-one of if not THE most dangerous villains, has you tied down and vulnerable, and from what you can gather, is about to take you apart for god knows what. You swallow nervously, knowing begging wouldn’t make the monster change his mind. This is a fate hard to swallow, but you have to accept it. No matter how hard you fight, there is no escaping him. 

Others would possibly have a fighting chance, but you had no defense. You were quirkless, it’s as laughable of an escape as a kitten trying to be menacing. 

“Oh, there we are” he cooed, pressing his now unmasked face into the palm of his hand as he stared at you. “I must say, you look so tempting like this, so easy to devour and consume…But I won’t subject you to my hunger so early. However-” he drops his hand down, squeezing the meat of your legs as you wince “I must inform you on just how close I am to abandoning that idea. You’ve no idea what you do to me. How I’m completely and blissfully consumed by you and your presence. To have continued to control my urges thus far is nothing short of a miracle”. 

You’re confused, tensing up even more at the idea that Overhaul might just be a cannibal who gets off on tormenting his prey. “P-Please! Please don’t eat me! I-I don’t know what I did to make you angry but I’m sorry!” you abruptly plead, arms twisting again in the bindings behind your back, causing your hips to raise off of the bedding. 

In an effort to get away from the man, you’ve only managed to tease the beast even more, his mouth watering as he watched you writhe and beg. Oh the fantasies he could have with those noises alone. 

But this isn’t a fantasy anymore. This is finally his chance to show you how devoted he is, how he worships you and wants you to make him your favorite disciple. He gently pushes your hips back down, not wanting his beloved to stress and wear out as he explained his intentions, soothing your trembling legs with small circles as he crawled between them. 

“You could never anger me. Those varmints and flea ridden filth who come near you however…Heh they face my wrath. They hear the gospel I spew for you as I take them apart piece by piece, and by the time I’m done..they’re a brand new person, with the correct way of thinking”. 

Wait- did he mean he brainwashed them through torture? Or that he physically rearranged their minds? Either one was awful, and for whatever reason the psycho decided to do those heinous acts in YOUR name. It was too much to process, your mind racing as the man continues to fondle and touch you, hands still covered. 

“W-What are you talking about? What do you want from me?!” you yell out, coaxing an amused chuckle from him. Kai pulls his hands away reluctantly, making a show as he pulled off his gloves, his eyes half lidded as he looked down at you. “I want you to let me serve you. Let me bring you past the peaks of bliss you’ve become used to, and ascend you even further.” 

He shudders at the warmth underneath his fingertips, slowly dragging his touch over your skin as he removes what little clothing you had left, leaving you bare and under his depraved gaze. “Let me worship you…let my body be a tool for you to use, to bring you beyond bliss, I’ll do whatever it is you wish me to do”. 

You highly doubt that last part, but push that sarcasm to the back of your mind as humiliation takes over, your eyes clenching shut as your cheeks burn and tears form. “Please, you don’t have to do this! Just let me go!” you brokenly sob, shaking as he leans down to cup your face. “Oh, beloved…I’ve done that for too long. I’ve let you go without the proper treatment, I’ve let you go on long enough without your gospel and light being spread…I’m afraid I cannot continue those atrocities”. 

A pathetic cry leaves your lips as he kisses you, moaning into your mouth and pressing the back of your head to keep you still. His kiss was starved, demanding. Like he had finally been given the permission to eat a feast he had been denied for too long. 

And feast he did. Your mouth was so sweet, so pliant as you sobbed into him, fighting and wriggling as he drank in his fill. But he was a being born of greed and sin, and soon the lustful kisses weren’t enough. He hisses with clenched teeth as he pulls away, grinding his growing tent against your uncovered sex. “Oh, my sweet, yes! You taste even more delectable than I could ever have imagined!” he exclaimed breathlessly. He looks down to watch his cock leak and leave a wet patch on his pants, grinding the both of your sexes together. 

“Even clothed, you feel euphoric. I cannot wait to be blessed by all of your essence, to be dripping in it as you lay beneath me” he chuckled as he caught his breath, his cheeks tinted pink as he grinds just a bit harder and elicits a moan from you. 

“That’s it. Moan for me, my savior. Sing to me your holy melodies as I worship every inch of your skin” Kai praises, his fingers snaking down to slowly stroke you up and down, covering them in the slick substance as he grinned. 

Oh this evening will be the start of many love and lust filled ones. Kai wants to suckle on his fingers as they get drenched, but teasing you and making you drip is just as delicious. “I’m going to treat you the way you should have been treated all along. Just lay back, and let your servant serve you”. 

(Hey! I hope you enjoyed! Tell me what you think PLEASE-Mommabean )

[thegnomelord]

I REALLY LOVE THE STRAIGHTFOWARD WEREWOLVES SOAP. OMG. Its just really funny in my head, imagine the way soap would act so shameless around the reader, uncaring about the stare he got because thats just how they are! The werewolves race with their no-shit and unfiltered attitude, and oh if they take interest in you, prepare your heart especially if you has a weak one; because surely they'll cling their every waking moment with you, sniffing every spots of you that they can reach. Absurd yet endearing flirtiratios compliments would hurled at you, catching you off guard cause they just come out of nowhere. Baring their fangs at potential rivals, worst case scenario if its their own race, because they can and will get violent, best calmed the werewolves down before anything awful happened. Just a thing between werewolves to prove which one is the stronger and more qualified, whose more worthy of your love, in their point of view.

If you have the time can you make a short fic, it would be the highlight of my life for weeks!!

Okay yes but also because I love needy clingy pathetic Soap too much lol

CW: NSFW, gn reader, grinding, somnophillia, quick and rough.

You've noticed that Soap has started to act. . . strange.

He's started trying to feed you all types of stuff, mostly meat, seeking you out at all times of the day. You'll see him go out to the woods and come back with some large animal, and an hour later he'll be coming to you with a plate of food and a 'Kiss the cook' apron on (every time you have to bite back from drawing attention to the fact the arrows point down to his dick). "Hey, need that wonderful mouth of yer's to try this out." He says, watching with rapt attention as you try his food, taking every critique with a wagging tail.

And if you like his food, oh, there's a giant grin spreading across his face. "Yeah, ye like that?" He comes closer, the plate in your hands forcing distance between you two. "Reckon this cook should get a reward." He's already stepping around to press his chest flush with your back before he can finish his sentence, and you don't have the heart to stop him because the food is mouth watering and he's just scenting you, even if the occasional flick of his tongue against your nape makes you shiver. (You, again, try not to draw attention to a hard bulge grinding into your ass)

That's the other thing. He's gotten really clingy.

He's always been clingy with all the team members, nuzzling his cheek against Gaz, whining like a kicked puppy when pushes him away with a hand on his face, tail wagging as he scents Price. Usually he's satisfied after he's done scenting the lads in your team, happy to continue with his business.

But with you. . .

You can't even sit on the couch for five seconds before his burly body is snuggling up to you, taking his seat in your lap like he owns it, like he's a lap dog. Doesn't even excuse himself before his hands are groping your biceps as he nuzzles your neck. "Aye, yer so hoht," He purrs, full body rubbing against you. "Could use ye fer a blanket on cold nights." You don't know how to feel about that, his words causing your mind to stutter long enough for him to replace the scents lingering on you with his own.

And when someone enters to find you like this, he doesn't even throw them a glance, gripping onto you like a koala and all you can do is mouth a 'help me'. Doesn't work though, as the second he senses someone is getting near he's growling like a monster truck's engine, glaring at the poor sod with his face still stuck in your neck.

Or, if you're busy with something, he'll saddle up to you, ears perked up. "Oi, bonnie, hold som'ting fer me." He'll whine, tugging on your arm until you sigh.

"Fine, just give it here." You growl, holding out your arm, still concentrated on what you're doing.

Next thing you know you're cupping his jaw, his head resting on your hand. "Anyone ever tell ye, yer got perfect hands te grope with?" Johnny grins at you, that one snaggletooth fang pinching his lip, using your confusion to rub the scent glands in his cheeks against your palm, making sure you smell like him.

You shake out of your stupor and pull your hand back, resisting giving in when he gives you such a heartbroken whine. "No, Johnny." You growl and shoo him away, but he still manages to brush his tail against your leg.

You make the mistake to fall asleep on the communal couch after a grueling day of training recruits. When Johnny finds you, his nose immediately trying to get a whiff of your scent, he growls when he can barely get traces of it beneath the smell of dirt and sweat and way too many people when the only scent you should have on you is his. His inner wolf growls along with him, his ears pricking up straight, staring at your sleeping form.

He's more than happy to rectify your mistake.

He lays on top of you, purring happily to himself when you don't even shift. "Good mate," He hums to himself, wrapping around you like a blanket, face buried in your neck once again. His hands slide beneath your shirt, making him pant into your skin from the sensation of your muscles beneath his hands. He moves his body slowly, seeking to have as much skin contact as he can, mouth watering and angel bells ringing in his skull at how he can taste his scent replacing everyone else's on your skin.

He doesn't notice when he starts to nibble on your neck, but it's the sensible next move, what better way to keep competition away than let everyone know you're taken? Johnny's marks bloom across your throat as he sucks hickeys into your skin, his wolf and himself standing on common ground to make sure you're covered in his marks.

He pulls back his head to look at his work and groans, cock immediately hardening in his pants from you covered in his marks. His hips gain a life of their own, thighs gripping your own as he grinds down, already half drunk on your scent.

You wake up to find his hot breath fanning over your face, the sensation of something hard grinding against your leg dissipating any residual drowsiness. "Johnny, what the fuck?" You ask, voice rough from sleep, only now registering his weight on top of you.

"'m sorry bonnie," Johnny whines, burying his face into your neck to muffle his whining. "Just- hah- needed ye."

You grumble, but you can't hide the way heat burns through your veins at the sight of him, his face flushed, claws gripping you like you'll disappear, desperately humping against your leg.

"I can see that." You say, tensing your thigh to give aid him in his grinding, your eyes growing wide at the loud moan that escapes him, like he's a whore on camera.

"Oh, shite, thank ye, thank ye, thank ye-" He whines, his humping growing faster, butterflies fluttering in his stomach at the way you hadn't pushed him away, that you're accepting his advances, muttering 'mate' under his breath as he chases after his orgasm.

He cums before either one of you knows it, a dark stain forming in his pants as he bites down and groans into your neck. You grunt, but Soap's quick to release your skin and lap at the aching spots with his tongue, soothing the pain.

"'m sorry bonnie." He mumbles, cock still hard in his pants, his wolfish eyes settling on you. Shame nibbles on his stomach for cumming so fast when he can't smell a lot of arousal on you, his wolf growling at him to show you how good he can be.

You jump when his hand slides down to grip your crotch roughly, his pupils dilating at the way a small moan slips past your lips. "Lemme make it up fer ye yeah?"

[millersdjarin]

I Only See Daylight

Chapter Five

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: E (eventually)

Chapter warnings/tags: slow burn, dad!din, bonding, flirting, injuries (not in detail), negative self-talk, mentions of past trauma/abuse, teasing

Chapter Length: 5.5k

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notes: mando's new ship is basically just a bigger version of the razor crest. im not even sorry for this lack of imagination. :)

i don't wanna think of anything else now that i thought of you

Mando’s cooking left you feeling warm, full, and…taken care of.

He had, of course, cooked for you while you were in the cave, made sure you had enough to eat. But all you had was meat and rations. Here, at your hut, he found ingredients to make a proper stew, and spent a couple of hours at your stove. It was hard not to watch him in his silent concentration. 

He could have left by now. He’s got what he needed from all this, and you’re safe in your home, recovering well from your injuries. He could just take his ship, fly to the other side of the planet, and never think of you again. 

But after you and the kid ate—kriff, it was good—he sat at the outside table opposite you, and said, “I think I’ll head out in the morning. If that’s alright with you.” 

You’d swallowed a gulp of water, nodded. “Yeah. That’s fine by me.” You thought of your spare tent, much smaller than the one the storm had shredded. Then you thought of the empty space on the floor inside the hut, how it’s just the perfect size for two sleeping mats. “You can sleep in the hut. If you’re comfortable with that.” 

He’d hesitated, but nodded. “Thank you.” 

So now here you are, long before the sun will rise, just watching him. He’s asleep, you assume, his chest rising and falling evenly. The kid is tucked in beside him beneath the blanket, and it’s so kriffing cute, his little eyes fully closed, ears twitching in his sleep. One of his fingers is wrapped around Mando’s hand, holding him close. 

Not for the first time, you wonder about their story. How they found each other, and how they became so close. 

You don’t sleep. Just doze on and off, at best. There’s a painful dread stirring deep in your belly, spreading to your chest, under your ribcage. You try with all your might to squash it down, to fight it with logic, with the knowledge that you shouldn’t care that you’ll be alone again in a few hours—in fact, you should be happy about that—and that wanting them to stick around is not only stupid and naive, but also selfish. 

It’s just, they’re the first people to ever make you feel…safe. Accepted. Free to just be. 

You never though you’d find that. Hell, you thought you’d spend the rest of your days here alone, not a soul in sight. 

And now that it’s coming to an end, you can’t help the anxiety nibbling through your defences. The wall you’ve built around your heart, around this life of solitude. And you know it’s stupid not just because of all that, not just because growing attached is a surefire way to get hurt; but it’s also stupid because Mando was always going to be here only temporarily. You were just supposed to help him get off-world. Go on a hike. Do a good thing. 

It’s turned into more, and you shouldn’t have let it.

So, above all else, the only thing you can do now is to not let it show.

When the sun rises, Mando stirs. You’re in the kitchen making two cups of caf, and before you turn to look at him, you hear him yawning. It comes out all funny through the helmet, of course, but it’s still endearing. 

While Mando eats and drinks outside, you pack up a little parcel of berries and herbs that you found on your hike, wrapping it in some old paper and securing it with a string. The kid helps, although mostly he just steals berries when he thinks you’re not looking. You slip in a little gift, too, to remember you by; a piece of the tent that was shredded during the storm. It’s a joke, really, just something to get him to laugh. Because you’ve only heard that a few times, but it’s so lovely. 

Except, of course, you won’t be there when he opens this package, when he laughs.

You’re trying not to think about the fact that they’re leaving. That you’re not just going to miss Mando, but the kid, too. If someone had told you a week ago that there would be a bounty hunter with a child that you’d somehow form an attachment to, you’d have laughed in their face. 

“For your travels,” you say to Mando, handing him the parcel. You let your hands linger on his, feeling the leather beneath your palms, somehow becoming a familiar feeling. 

He looks at the package, then to you. “You didn’t have to…” 

“I wanted to,” you interrupt with a smile. Slowly, you pull your hands away. He twitches his towards you, like he wants to follow them, but holds himself back. “So, I guess you’re on your way, then?” 

Wordless at first, he nods.

You feel something tugging at your leg. Little arms wrapped around your good calf. Looking down, Grogu is there, staring up at you with wide eyes, ears turned downwards sadly. 

As you pick him up, you say to him, “Alright, kiddo. I’ve packed some of your favourite berries in there, but you’ve got to let Mando have some as well, alright?” 

He tilts his head, listening. Lifts up one of his little hands, and brushes it down your cheek. His face is sad with a tiny extra wrinkle in his forehead. Gently, you take hold of his hand as it falls from your face, and lift it up, giving his knuckles a little peck. 

“I’ll miss you too,” you say, smiling. Mando’s eyes are on you; you can feel them. Warming and comforting and uneasy. You look to him, and give a sad smile. “You’ve got the city on your map, right?” 

Parcel still in hand, he nods. “Yes. Only thing on this planet.” 

“It sure is,” you remember your first conversation with him, when you told him that there was nothing for miles. When you decided to help him. Some kind of melancholy settles in your chest, too far inside for you to push it away. With one last look to the kid, you wait for Mando to put the food package in his satchel before passing Grogu back to him. The kid clings to your arm for as long as he can, then when he’s against Mando’s chest, tucks his head into his cowl. 

You just stare at Mando, entirely aware of how absurd this is. How much of a strange image it is, this strong man of metal with a soft little child in his arms. You’ve been with him for almost a week now, and the contrast still isn’t lost on you.

“Take care of yourself,” Mando says into the heavy quiet. 

“I will. You, too.”

He nods. Still, he hesitates, not making a move towards the ramp, even though there’s really nothing else to say. You can’t bring yourself to look away, so you just wait. Maybe the longer you’re quiet, the longer he’ll let you stay like this; in this new little world you’ve found yourself in, where suddenly being alone again doesn’t look like any fun.

It startles you just a little when he steps forward. At first, you’re not sure what he’s going to do, but then he holds his hand out for you. 

Tentative, you reach out, and accept it. He doesn’t shake it like a greeting or a farewell. He just holds it, holds you, the bare skin of your palms separated only by his gloves once again, lingering long enough for you to feel his warmth. 

“Ret'urcye mhi,” , he says, ray-toor-shah-me. 

It takes a moment for your brain to catch up to the fact that you’re not glitching out; he’s speaking a different language. His voice sounds like poetry in whatever he’s speaking, tongue curling over the words, breath brushing across them like a prayer. 

“It’s Mando’a,” he explains at your confused frown, his hand still in yours. “The language of the Mandalorians.” 

“You speak that?” 

“A little, yes.” 

“What does that mean? Ray…tor…me?” 

“Ret’urcye mhi,” he corrects gently, giving your hand a squeeze that might be involuntary or purposefully reassuring. “It means goodbye. Or…” 

Your eyebrow twitches up hopefully. “…Or?” 

“Maybe we’ll meet again.” 

A breath escapes your lips, a new feeling sliding in beside the sadness inside you. Something like hope. Reassurance, even, that Mando isn’t the only one hoping that might be true. “Maybe we will,” you breathe, feeling yourself smile. 

With one last, lingering squeeze of your hand, he nods once, and pulls away. Some part of you tells you to reach out, pull him back in. The part of you that has already accepted the fact that you like him, and you like his company. 

The rest of you, though, pushes it away. 

Mando leaves the door open behind him. You stand in the doorway, watching as he walks away, the morning sun glinting off his armour. Grogu is looking over his shoulder at you, reaching out one of his hands like a wave. 

You wave back, finding your smile turning teary. 

You watch until they’re gone, disappeared into the tree line. Then, you just stay there for a minute, gathering yourself. Coming back to your senses. 

It’s quiet. So quiet. 

The smells and sounds are back to normal. No more burning engine oil, no more clinking of Mandalorian armour or cooing of little green Grogus. Just the forest around you, the distant trickling of the creek. 

You used to like it. Solitude. You never thought it would take just one person and his son to change that. But maybe that’s just it; maybe it’s that they’re the first decent people you’ve ever met, and that is drawing you in, making you vulnerable. Maybe you’re just being naive, foolish. 

That’s why you’re here in the first place. 

But, Kriff. In the distance, you see the glint of sun as it reflects off of his ship lifting into the air. You only just see it by the time it’s high enough above the horizon, a tiny silver dot getting further away. 

You close your eyes. So much, you wish that could be you. Leaving. Being free. Choosing where to go, instead of being stuck somewhere just because it’s safe. 

-

The idea only makes a little bit of sense, when Din thinks about it. When he rationalises it.

Having someone else along with him for a little while might not be such a bad thing. It’s been him and Grogu for so long, but they’ve been thrown around from place to place and fight to fight for most of their time together that they’ve never really settled into a routine. At least, not one that couldn’t stand to be changed. 

The ship is bigger now; an extra pair of adult hands could be helpful around here. 

And he hates to admit it, but it can get pretty lonely. At night, when the kid is asleep and everything in the ship is quiet, Din used to appreciate just having the silence to himself. The space to think, to meditate, to consider his next move. 

But things feel different now.

Somehow, after the last week, everything feels different. After you. 

So, once the hyperdrive has been fixed—for an extortionate amount of money, too; trust a backwater planet with only one city to charge that much, because they’ve got you right where they want you—he could just leave the planet’s atmosphere, go back out into the endless Galaxy and find his next bounty. Earn money, keep them under the radar. There are still bounties on him and Grogu; at least, there are stragglers who haven’t quite got word yet that the Imps who wanted the kid are long gone. There’s no one to pay the bounty, but they don’t know that. So Din knows they still have to lay low, stay moving. 

He could just do that. Just him and the kid.

But he can’t stop thinking about your eyes, every time he told you about a distant world. Every time you asked to hear about one. The way you’d confessed into the quiet of the cave that you wanted to see the Galaxy. 

He can’t stop thinking about you, period.

It’s a problem. He knows it’s a problem. He’s not blind to the way he feels when he sees you, how it felt the first time he saw the bright orange sun shining on your face, through the wispy strands of your hair in the gentle breeze. When you touched his hand for the first time, just the brush of fingers. When you were injured, and you tried to push him away, to get him to leave you alone when you clearly needed help, he knew what it was he felt in his chest. Right in his very core.

It’s something he’s not felt before.

And it would be fine, except for the fact that it’s not. He knows he can never have that, with anyone. His life just isn’t cut out for something like that. He has the kid, and that’s all he can give.

And he’s still…finding himself again, after everything that happened. After being excommunicated, realising that he was more than his helmet, more than the thin line he constantly had to walk within the Creed between doing what was right and keeping his face hidden. The disillusion with all he’s ever known is still eating away at him. 

He doesn’t even know where his heart lies, let alone whether or not it’s strong enough to give to someone. Whether or not he’s strong enough. If you’d even want that.…

He knows there is so much he can’t give you. So much that you deserve. 

What he can give you, though, is a way off this planet and into the stars. 

So it’s not really because he needs an extra pair of hands. It’s not even because he’s lonely. But that's just the problem: since when has he felt the need to tell himself, or anyone, anything but the blunt truth?

Finding the piece of the shredded tent in the food parcel you made for him is what does it, in the end.

He doesn’t fly away and never look back. 

When he climbs into the cockpit for the first time after it’s been fixed, still sitting on the platform at the repair shop, he sets the coordinates for the other side of the planet.

Kriff.

He’s screwed here, isn’t he?

-

It’s been two days since Mando and Grogu left. It’s been sunny every minute since. Flowers are blooming in the clearing in front of your hut, bright pinks and yellows in tiny little buds. It’s still so quiet, and for a while, you’d been able to convince yourself that you were enjoying it. 

But now, with insects dancing in the beams of sunlight cast in front of your home, the silence is deafening. You can’t pretend anymore.

It’s coming up to noon when you hear something strange. You must be hearing things; it can’t be that someone else has crash-landed here. That would be two in one week, which seems pretty impossible. Maybe it’s a nearby shindl making a nest. 

Though, it sounds too…mechanical for that. No, it’s definitely the rumble of an engine, the sky too clear for it to be thunder. 

Just in case, you head inside, but sit beside the front window, peering out from one of the corners. Your blaster is at your hip, sniper rifle by the door. If it’s another crash, this time the people might not be as nice as Mando was. 

Minutes later, you see it.

The familiar flash of beskar in the sunlight. The calm, collected steps he takes, the swing of his arms. The satchel, a tiny green head poking out from the top. 

No. You’re imagining things. The poison has come back, and you’re feverish, and delusional. 

Except you’re not. 

“Mando?” You question to yourself, closing the clasp on your holster before standing up and heading outside. Sure enough, it’s him, striding casually across the grass towards you, the kid cooing happily from his place in the satchel. They stop in front of you, just feet away. “What are you doing here?” You ask, a smile twitching at your lips.

He’s quiet at first, because of course he is. “I brought you some food from a market,” he says, fishing out a canvas bag hanging heavily with produce. “To say thank you.” 

You smile and take it from him, brushing your fingers together, definitely on purpose this time. “You didn’t have to do this,” you assure him, but peer inside the bag anyway, finding bright fruits, grains, vegetables, and some circles of cheese. Cheese. Kriff, it’s been a while since you had cheese. Looking up at him with a wide grin, you step closer. “Thank you.” 

He nods. The kid distracts you, then, reaching out a hand towards you in the way he does when he wants to hold your finger. Of course you’re unable to resist him; you thought you’d never see either of them again, despite what you may have hoped.

“I have something to ask you,” Mando says. 

“Oh?” 

“Come with me.” 

Your eyes shoot up to him. “That…didn’t sound like a question.” 

His helmet tilts. “…Will you come with me.” He rephrases, still not pitching his voice at the end of the sentence like it’s a question, but you can hear the smirk in his voice. 

It makes you weak in the knees. You put all your weight onto your good leg, disguising it as resting your bad one. “What are you talking about?” 

“You said you wanted to travel,” he says. “I can take you wherever you want to go.” 

There’s that warmth again. Right in the centre of your chest. Even if it weren’t for the sincerity in his voice, you would know that his words are genuine; he’s never said something to you that isn’t. “Mando…” you whisper. His offer settles on you, under your skin and into your bones. You wish you could say yes. Wish it was that simple. “I don’t…have anywhere to go, or anything to my name. I can’t…I can’t leave.” 

“You can stay with me. With us,” he gestures to the kid, who is still holding one of your fingers in earnest, big eyes staring up at you hopefully. 

You gaze into Mando’s visor, wishing you could look into his eyes, search his face. He really means this. He wants you to go with them. To stay with them. And every single inch of you yearns to agree to it. “It’s not that simple,” your voice comes out in a whisper. Tears hang in your throat, sting at the backs of your eyes. 

Fuck, you’ve already had to let him walk away once. Now you’re going to have to do it again, and this time, it’ll be after you’ve turned down the best, most sincere offer you’ve ever been given. 

“Why not?” Mando asks.

Your chest tightens. As if on instinct, you pull your finger away from the kid’s grasp. “Mando, there’s…” looking away, you shake your head. Images come to mind of the place you were in before here. The place you fought so hard to escape; the people who would still try to find you and bring you back if they ever got the chance. Fuck, you thought Mando had been sent here by them, at first. There’s nothing they won’t do. “There are people…who want to hurt me,” you confess into the breeze, words so small that he might not have even heard them. You cross your arms over your chest, defensive. “I can’t leave. They’ll find me.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, considering. His visor is still on you. “I can offer you protection,” he says. 

And, Gods.

You have to close your eyes. A painful pang hits your chest. Yearning, the feeling of having something you want so badly so close but yet so far. You’ve felt like this before. For so many years you wanted to escape your family, and it took you your whole life to find the courage to do so. 

You don’t doubt that Mando could protect you. Hell, you know no one will mess with you if you’re hanging around with a Mandalorian. At least, not anyone with half a brain. 

But this? Leaving this planet, this safe haven that you’ve found and created for yourself, leaving it all behind for the sake of following your dream to see the Galaxy? This might be even scarier than the escape that took you decades to plan. 

“You don’t have to say yes,” Mando’s voice comes through the chaos of your thoughts. “I would understand. We don’t know each other well. But I will protect you from whoever it is you need protecting from, and I can bring you back here if and whenever you need.” 

“And what if the people who want me are hunting me for good reason? Maybe I’m some ruthless criminal.” 

The helmet tilts along with the lilt of a smirk in his voice, “I…doubt that’s true. Whatever it is, I can handle it.”

Without moving your head, you move your eyes from the floor to him, and feel that warmth blooming, a familiar kind of comfort that his presence brings to you settling in. “I can’t tell you about it,” you whisper. “I just…I can’t.” 

“I’m not asking you to.” 

“But to protect me, don’t you need to know who you might have to fight?” 

“…In a sense. But, you know, I could use an extra pair of hands around the ship. You’d be doing me a favour, too.”

You look away again. “Mando…” you sigh. You’ve run out of reasons to say no. 

He’s the first person you’ve seen in years, and somehow the first person you’ve ever really trusted. Maybe it’s the kid, maybe it’s his gentle voice and demeanour beneath the armour, maybe it’s how he protected you against the storm, stayed with you when you needed him, patched you up. 

Maybe it’s because he’s different to how you thought he’d be. 

And maybe that’s more comforting than it is scary.

You look up at him. Bite your bottom lip. “Are you sure about this?” 

“Yes.” 

Of course he is. Look at him: all wide shoulders and casual stance, standing here in front of your home like he’s always been here, like he’s always known you. Staring at you like he can never stop. It’s harder to look away from you.

“Alright,” you decide. It’s too quiet, so you say again, “Alright. I’ll come with you. If—if you’re sure.” Melancholy shifts to make way for a new emotion, something you don’t think you’ve ever felt before. Excitement. Anticipation of something good.

He lets out a breath. You wonder if he’s smiling. 

The kid definitely is. He makes a happy shriek, waving his hands about excitedly. 

You laugh, reaching out to gently bump his nose with your fingertip. Then you look back to Mando, squinting in the light that’s reflected off of his armour. “Thank you,” you say, so quiet he might not have heard you. “I mean it.” 

He nods once. “Take your time getting ready to leave. The ship is just in the nearest clearing. We’ll be waiting for you whenever you’re ready.” 

As he walks away, you watch him go, admiring the swing of his hips and arms despite the fact that that should be the last thing on your mind. 

Kriff. 

I’m leaving. I’m actually leaving. 

A stir of panic swirls in your stomach, right in the pit. 

You expected that. 

It’s okay. 

I’m okay. 

-

He presses something into your hand, closing your fingers over it, holding your fist. 

“Ret’lini,” he says, rayt-lee-nee through his modulator, close to your face. 

“What does that mean?” He lets you go and you open your fist, finding a commlink sitting in your palm. 

“Just in case,” he translates. 

You look back up at him. “Thank you,” you say, feeling like you’re going to be saying that a lot, and put the link in your pocket.

You’ve only got a small bag of belongings. Just some clothes, some leftover meiloorun, and the necklace you brought with you from your old life that will now come with you into this one. It was from your aunt, the one person you trusted before she passed.

Mando shows you his quarters. They’re down in the hull, tucked behind a door that gives a gentle hiss when it opens and closes, with two bunks, one on top of the other. The bottom one covers most of the width of the room, slightly bigger than a single bunk but smaller than a double. The top one is definitely single, and between them both there’s a hammock made from a mixture of leather and soft fabric, with a little frog toy sitting in it. 

The ’fresher is next-door, hidden behind a similar door, just a simple toilet, sink, and an open shower. A shower. It’s been a while.

Then, on the main deck, a small living area with a kitchenette, leading into the cockpit where there are three seats; two up front and one directly behind the copilot chair. 

Once you’ve put your bag on your bunk—the top one, where a little light sits on the wall, diffused by a metal sconce—you head into the cockpit, finding Mando in the pilot’s chair, Grogu in the one beside him. Mando is looking at holomaps, twiddling with controls on the panel in front of him and above his head. You wonder what it all does, how well he knows the ship. 

“Where are we going first?” You ask, tentatively sitting in the third chair behind Grogu. 

“Any requests?” 

“Uh…I don’t know much about the Galaxy. Is there anywhere you need to go? Or want to go?”

“There’s a Guild outpost not far from here. I could do with picking up a job.”

“The Bounty Hunters’ Guild?”

“Yes. But if you’re not comfortable with that…” 

“You have to make your money somehow,” you say. You didn’t go into this thinking that Mando would just stop bounty hunting altogether because of you. 

He looks back at you, just the side profile of his helmet visible. “It doesn’t bother you?” 

“I’ve seen worse,” you say, then wish you hadn’t, and look away. “I don’t want to interrupt your life.” 

He looks at you for a minute, then turns away again, pulling up a holomap. “We can go to Nevarro,” he says, pointing at it on the image in front of him, not that that helps your understanding of where the hell it is in the Galaxy. “I’ve got friends there. While I find a suitable job, you could go to the library, think about places you might want to visit. Have a look at some maps.” 

He says it like he’s just fine with you rocking up and saying Hey, Mando, take me here. Take me there. 

“Do you moonlight as a taxi service?” You tease, throwing a smirk at the back of his head. 

He huffs a laugh. “I’ve been known to.” 

“Wait, really?” You find yourself laughing. The idea is funny; this scary Mandalorian just ferrying people back and forth. “I don’t believe you.” 

“I’ve been roped into it,” he says, sighing dramatically, “not my proudest moment.” 

You smile at him, not sure if the fact he can’t see the fondness on your face is a good or bad thing. “So what’s this, then?” You ask, only finding courage because he’s not looking at you. “Am I another one of those shameful moments?” You’re mostly teasing. Mostly. But a part of you genuinely feels guilty for taking him up on his offer, and if he wants to back out, now is the time to do it. You want to give him chance before taking off. 

Surprising you, he closes the holomap, and spins his chair to face you fully. You sit back, suddenly overwhelmed by how small this cockpit is, or how small it feels. “You know that’s not what this is,” he says, “…don’t you?” 

Nervous, you swallow. “I’m…not used to people helping me just because they…well, why are you helping me?” 

He considers this for a moment, his hands splayed on his knees, helmet tilted slightly as he looks at you. “I could use the help,” he answers, though his voice is smaller than usual, no conviction in it.

“So I’m an employee?” 

“No,” he answers. He seems flustered, all of a sudden, though you can’t put your finger on what gives you that impression. “It’s not like that.” 

You don’t like the strange feeling that’s suddenly settled between you. You want to look into his eyes, read them. Want to understand him and his voice and what he means when he doesn’t say things entirely candidly. So, changing the tone, you give him a smirk, and say, “So you are a taxi service.” 

He laughs again, this time a surprised kind of chuckle. “I’m not dropping you off anywhere in particular, so you’re going to rack up quite the fare.” 

You smile, and he leans forward. You find yourself leaning forward too, though you don’t know why. “I’ll find some way to pay you,” you say, your voice dropping to a lower tone, going for teasing, but ending up somewhere else, somewhere that you definitely didn’t intend to— 

Nope, that came out all wrong, you did not mean it to sound like that—

“I mean—” you stammer, backing up again, “I—didn’t mean…I meant I can find something to give you—I mean—”

The helmet tilts, and you stop talking. 

You’ve seen this before. The tilt, the stillness as he just watches you fumble. He knows exactly what you meant in the first place, and is enjoying your floundering. 

“I know you’re making fun of me under that helmet,” you frown, folding your arms over your chest. “And it’s rude. Stop it.” 

He leans back against his chair, his splayed hands dragging up thighs in a way that is, quite frankly, far too provocative to do in front of a child—“The helmet has its uses,” he says. 

You stammer for a response, for some kind of retort. But your cheeks are burning red still from the insinuation that you would pay him with a service and you can’t form a sentence right now. 

“You blush a lot,” he says it quietly, like he’s just saying it to himself, or he didn’t mean to say it aloud.

Your brain actually malfunctions. 

“I—what?” 

He stays still, quiet, stares for just a second longer before he quickly looks away and turns back to his control panel. Like he’s caught himself. Like he definitely didn’t mean to say it. “Nothing. Are you ready to go?”

“I…yes,” you answer. Welcoming the change in topic, you gaze out of the window, at the forest stretching ahead of you, the spring flowers swaying in the breeze. Five years you’ve been here, made a life for yourself. Found a type of peace that you never thought you’d have. 

It hasn’t been easy. And it hasn’t been what you would choose, if you’d had another choice. But it’s been your home, and you’re going to miss it.

But it’s time to make a different choice. And you’re okay with that. 

“I’m ready,” you say, even though he didn’t ask you again. 

He glances back at you, and nods. 

“Are you, though? I might be terrible to live with and then you’ll have to drop me back off here in a day’s time,” you tease. 

Grogu hops down from his seat and starts to tug at your leg, asking for you to pick him up. As you do, Mando fiddles with switches and dials, and the engines start to power up behind you, roaring to life. 

Mando eventually says, “I can find my way back here if you’re trouble.” 

You smile at him, getting the kid comfortable in your lap. His tone is teasing, deadpan. You could hear him talk like that for hours and not get bored; banter with him, wondering if he, too, blushes a lot.

Which, come to think of it, is something you’re going to think about a lot. The fact he said that to you. The fact it seemed like he didn’t mean to say that to you.

You distract yourself by watching the world fall around you as the ship lifts off from the ground. The roof of your hut pokes up through the trees, its small clearing coming into view once you’re up in the air. The sky gets nearer, the ground gets further. 

You take a deep, controlled breath. That murmuring feeling of panic stirs again, deep in your belly, but now is not the time. Looking away from the window and the closest thing you’ve had to a real home fading beneath you, you look instead at the kid, who is gazing up at you with wide, loving eyes. 

“Hey, kid,” you murmur, quiet enough that it’s just between the two of you. He coos back, lifting his finger to brush it down your cheek. 

You close your eyes. 

Take a deep breath. In, out. 

There are so many more stars up here than you ever could have imagined. 

notes: as always thank you for being here. all interactions are appreciated, but comments and reblogs especially make me happy and help with my engagement :) posting schedule is mondays and thursdays!

take care of yourself!

taglist:

@toobsessedsstuff @granillx @keepingitlokiii @shoe1412 @kiruoris @quentinor @yourunstablegf @moonknight-s-cumdump @senassn @samanthacookieone @local-fanfic-addict @your-slutty-gf @brilliantopposite187 @whenpugzfly @elsasshole

[manicplank]

My Friend, Bruno (Part 1)

This is a fic based on my personal headcanons of Bruno and what happened to him. It was my interpretation of the character based off the little information observed from him. I will post some links eventually of what Bruno looks like in my head, but you can also imagine his appearance however you feel. It doesn't matter much. Anyways, enjoy!

-

The smell of tomato sauce and mozzarella filled the air. A restaurant in The Slum had gained immense popularity since it opened. It contained fresh, authentic pizza. It was delicious compared to the other pizzas in the tower which were filled with preservatives and artificial ingredients. Inside of the kitchen was a man named Bruno. He was a fair-looking man that was soft on the eyes. His cheeks were red and rosy. His mustache was well groomed and maintained. He hummed as he kneaded fresh dough for the next batch of pizza. The restaurant was filled with citizens of the tower; pigs, shrimp, cheeslimes, and all alike. The name of the restaurant was simple, Bruno's Pizza.

"Bruno," Pizzahead walked over to the main counter with his arms held out. "Doing well today, I see." Bruno looked up from his craft and smiled. "Yep," he responded, "busy as always." Pizzahead observed as Bruno cut the dough into smaller sections and spun them into circles. No matter what he tried, he could never seem to replicate Bruno's work.

"You're a talented man," he spoke.

Bruno chuckled. "Well, you of all people should know where I get it from."

"It certainly isn't me."

The two laughed together. Bruno went back to his work, spreading fresh tomato sauce over the circles of dough. He was intensely focused on his work. For two pizzas, he added round slices of mozzarella and topped them with basil scattered around. For the others, he covered them evenly with cheese. One was topped with pepperoni, another was topped with sausage, and the last two were simply cheese. He put the raw pizzas in the wood fired ovens. Within 30 minutes they were done. Two of the pizzas were boxed up while the others were served on round trays.

"Two margherita pizzas and sausage pizza to go," he announced loudly, "one pepperoni for table three, and two cheese pizzas for table five!"

The customers came up to the counter and claimed their pizzas. Closing time for the kitchen was near, and there were only a few people waiting in line to order. He headed over to the register. He took their orders quickly and swiftly and began to work on it. He had just enough dough left to make the pizzas, and the fire in the ovens were still burning hot. He quickly finished their pizzas as it was time to close up the kitchen and get to cleaning.

"A meat lover's pizza to go, a three cheese pizza to go, and one pepperoni for table two!"

As the last of the pizzas were served, he put out the fire in the ovens. Customers in the lobby continued to eat as he wiped down the counters in the kitchen. He wrapped up the produce, dated them, and put them in the cooler. As customers left, he collected their trays and plates, placing them in the sink as he went back out to wipe down the tables. Before he knew it, the restaurant was empty and sparkling clean. What a relief! All was done in a hard day's work, and he was filled with satisfaction. He went back into the office and began counting down the register. He calculated the percentage that went to Pizzahead for rent and utilities. Afterwards, he calculated the amount to support the restaurant and pay for supplies. The rest of the money went into his pocket. He opened up the safe and placed the envelopes of money inside of them. In the safe was another smaller safe. Inside of that safe was large wads of cash. He had been saving up for a long time. He counted that cash and smiled in complete glee. He had finally saved up enough...

The front door opened up. A demonic groan echoed in the lobby. Bruno peeked out from the office. "Fakey," he greeted cheerfully. "Hi, buddy!" Fake Peppino hopped over to the counter. Bruno gave him a pat on the head. "How's my buddy today?" Fake Peppino tilted his head and smiled. "I'm sorry, but there aren't many scraps today. Want to drink the leftover garlic butter?" Fake Peppino whined and nodded. Bruno brought over a clear container full of butter, and Fake Peppino gulped it down in a second. "You're a strange lad. At least the leftovers don't go to waste." Fake Peppino went down on all fours and began scanning the floor for crumbs and pieces of food that had been dropped. Bruno frowned as he saw his friend scavenging for food. It wasn't the hunt for crumbs that saddened Bruno, but the fact that he knows he won't have his friend forever.

-

With the restaurant closed, Bruno headed to his apartment in The Pig City. As he went from The Slum to the city, he couldn't help but wander to one of the tower's large windows. He looked out as the sun set. The sky was beautiful with shades of purple, orange, and yellow. There was a whole world out there that he's never seen. The tower was his world. It was all he had ever known. He loved his business and what he did for a living, but he couldn't help but wonder what else was out there. Instead of going home, he headed up to the fifth floor to have a talk with Pizzahead.

When Bruno reached the top floor, he was greeted by John. "Hey, Bruno." John smiled. He was happy to see someone.

"Hi, John!"

"How are you?"

"I'm okay. I'm... having an issue that I was hoping to discuss with Pizzahead, but I'm a little afraid."

"Oh, what's bothering you?"

"John... What's the outside world like?"

John sighed. His smiled turned into a frown. "It's beautiful. There's fields full of grass and flowers, forests filled with trees and wildlife, cities filled with diverse selections of people... I miss it. I miss it so much."

"It sounds amazing."

"You're thinking of leaving, aren't you?"

Bruno looked bewildered. "I can't discuss that with you."

"You are."

Bruno gulped and nodded. "Yes. I... I'm not sure if I should even talk to Pizzahead about it."

"Don't. You and I know him well enough. He'll put the tower in lockdown so you can't leave. No matter where you hide, he will find you. And when he does..."

"He'll kill me."

"Yep. And then he'll make another one of you without hesitation. In fact, he's in the lab right now working on more clones."

Bruno's lips curled inward. He looked up to the door where the War level was. Inside of it was the lab. He hoped that Pizzahead didn't hear his conversation with John. "You're right," he says. "This stays between us." John nodded in agreement. Bruno headed back down to the fourth floor and headed to the city. On his way, he ran into The Noise who was leaving The Pig City. The Noise had a wide-eyed look on his face as they bumped into each other.

"Heyyy, Bruno..."

"What did you do?"

"Nothiiiing..."

"Did you commit a crime?"

"Nooothiiiing..."

"Are you running from the cops?"

"NOOOTHIIIING."

A pig dressed as a cop pointed his nightstick at The Noise. "There he is! He's fleeing the city," yelled the cop.

"YOU'RE OUT OF YOUR JURISDICTION, PIGGY!!!" The Noise yelled as he fled back down to the third floor.

Bruno rolled his eyes with a smile on his face. The cop waved to him before going back to his car to write a warrant for The Noise. Bruno was well known throughout the city and had a good reputation due to his pizzeria. He was beloved by many. Almost everybody knew him. As he went into his apartment, he took a glance at the city. He thought about what John had said to him. He imagine a nicer, cleaner city filled with more variety of species instead of pigs, pizza, and shrimp. So many possibilities awaited him outside. He wondered how popular his pizzas would be in the outside world.

[mariacallous]

The inside cover of my grandmother’s cookbook is inscribed with her handwriting, “Think of me when you cook.” It is a copy of the same spiral-bound book that has been given to all of the women in my family. “The Sephardic Cooks: Comé Con Gana” has somehow made its way from one synagogue in Atlanta to Sephardic communities and families from New Jersey to California. It has all the classic recipes, including a section titled “Main Dish Pastries.” These dishes are the cornerstone of the Sephardic tradition, desayuno.

The word “desayuno” literally translates to “breakfast” in Ladino, the dying Judeo-Spanish language historically spoken by Sephardic Jews. Yet, the meaning extends beyond that one meal. In Sephardic culture, desayunois a category of foods associated with the large Saturday morning meal that would be served after Shabbat, including egg dishes and savory pastries. 

These desayuno foods are some of my favorite things to eat and the ones I most associate with my own family traditions. The blocks of crustless quajado (spinach quiche) that always seemed to be in my childhood freezer, ready to thaw for lunch. The doughy, cheesy spinach boyos my grandmother would have ready for our breakfast every time we traveled to visit her. The pasteles (mini meat pies) my great-aunt taught to a room filled with four generations of cousins at our family reunion last summer. The rice-and-cheese-filled bureka pastries my mom comes over to make with my kids and me. 

While delicious and crowd-pleasing, these are also some of the most time-consuming recipes to prepare. I picture my great-grandmother standing in a friend’s kitchen as all the ladies of the community work together to knead mounds of dough, mix a vat of filling, fold and crimp sheets and sheets of burekas. Whether this is accurate or just my imagination justifying why it feels intimidating to make these by myself, desayuno pastries do not align well with today’s fast-paced, individual lifestyle. Save for the times my mom comes to bake with us (importantly, bringing a container of prepped filling), making dough and pastry from scratch is not happening in my kitchen. 

I hope to be a part of the thread that keeps Sephardic traditions alive, yet I do not want to let perfection be the enemy of my intentions. I think my grandmother would agree. While she baked burekas with all of her grandchildren and always had a freezer full of freshly baked rosca (coffee rolls), she was never one to turn down a good shortcut. She developed her own boyo recipe featuring Hungry-Jack biscuit dough as the base and once described to me a full lentil soup recipe, only to end it with, “or you could just buy a can of lentil soup.” She loved when I would call her to share that I had tried a Sephardic recipe, such as cinnamon biscocho cookies or lemon chicken soup. Whether my attempts had been successful or a flop (like my rock-hard biscochos), her smile would be audible through the phone saying, “I’m just so glad you tried.” 

As Sephardic culture and traditions fade and assimilate, food provides an important outlet to preserve history and share it with family and friends. More important than getting it right or spending hours in the kitchen is remembering our traditions, trying recipes, talking about or simply eating Sephardic foods, regardless of who made them.  

In that spirit, I would like to propose lowering our standards, for the greater good of keeping traditions alive. Consider a desayuno with fewer parts or with a little help from the freezer aisle. Rather than the large spread my ancestors would prepare for days in advance, consider making one thing from scratch (though I won’t tell if you cook zero things). You could make a batch of burekas or a quajado, arguably the easiest of the Sephardic breakfast dishes, or even just prepare a pot of hard-boiled eggs. Supplement with frozen spanakopita, Ta’amti Bourekas or a Trader Joe’s Greek cheese spiral for a full table. 

Nothing will taste quite like homemade pastries fresh from the oven and I still aspire to make them (occasionally). Yet, even when I munch a makeshift Sephardic meal, I will be thinking of my grandmother, just as she inscribed in her cookbook. As long as we are sharing food together, talking about Sephardic traditions, remembering meals and people who matter to us, I will call it desayuno. I think my grandmother would be proud. 

[theamityelf]

I enjoy calamity and details too much so I have to ask RE: your Undead Hope’s Peak AU… do you think Makoto and Komaeda would suffer SOME sort of side effects to being constantly exposed to the zombie virus? At the very least I can’t imagine either of them were able to be as vigilant on caring for themselves as they could be, especially being surrounded and essentially drenched in blood, rot, and death. If the virus was ever reversed, I have to wonder if that wouldn’t be the greatest time for both Makoto and Komaeda’s bodies to tap out and get some rest whether either of them volunteered or not lmao. Also judging by how awful the reserve course is getting the brunt of things I can’t imagine vengeance isn’t close at hand for them. This could end up causing the reserve course despair attack without Junko’s influence.

To your first point, I can definitely see them at the very least getting sick pretty regularly. They try to keep the room and their classmates as clean as possible, but yeah, the amount of stuff they're exposed to and the amount of times they get bitten and maybe forget to bandage it until later or just are too busy for a while, at the very least some of those bites get super infected with just regular pathogens. These guys have unbandaged bites while bathing with a bunch of undead people; I think at the very least, they feel sick.

I'd say one plausible way that the undead virus could affect them is that they develop a higher tolerance for those blood and meat smells. By which I only mean their disgust instincts are decreased, but they will still have a physical reaction if they're exposed for too long. So being around all that decay will still make them physically ill, but they won't feel the disgust leading up to it, so they won't know to be as vigilant as they need to be.

The smell of rotten meat doesn't bother them all that much anymore, but they will still vomit if they're in the room with a lot of it for very long. And they will still get sick if they're handling something that carries disease.

Their immune systems are definitely in a bad place on the basis of exposure, diet, and not getting enough quality rest, so they'd also be getting regular colds and stuff pretty often.

(If we wanted to, we could definitely also say that the undead virus that they're immune to, the regular infection in the bites, and whatever regular cold or flu they might come down with, end up mixing together and create whole new cultures of disease.)

To your point about the reserve course, I think Hajime could even be the catalyst for that. Maybe the reserve course didn't know that any of the lucksters were setting traps for them, because those who found out were already caught in the traps and so never got to tell anyone before they got eaten. Maybe Hajime is the first to make it back to the others with news of having been caught in an actual human trap to be fed to the main course.

I'm thinking, before that point, they didn't feel slighted by anyone in particular; they just felt like they got caught up in a zombie apocalypse, like in the movies, and it's no one's fault; just bad luck. They felt the faculty had no choice but to lock them here, since the disease had spread so much, and now they just have to survive until there's a cure. Maybe it occurred to some of them that they were here to be food for the undead, but those people were treated as conspiracy theorists. Hope's Peak may have its faults, but they wouldn't feed students to anyone. They just weren't evacuated in time, and the school had to barricade the campus so none of the undead could get out and hurt way more people.

But then Hajime gets back with news that there are human main course students setting traps to feed the talentless to the Ultimates, and that even the nice luckster who protected Hajime from such a fate is just being used by the school to take care of the Ultimates, and that causes an uproar. They realize they're being sacrificed, and they want to fight back.

Maybe they want to attack the undead, but more likely they want to charge the barricades and escape. They refuse to be the school's disposable sacrifices, even if it means the undead are able to leave the campus and infect more people outside.

[danvolodar]

Pathologic and the Town's Russianness: 5

In this last numbered part of the miniseries we'll explore the issue that, honestly speaking, prompted me to write on the subject to begin with: the Town's eating habits, and whether they match those of the historic Russian Empire.

As in the previous parts, a warning is prudent - the Town's unique situation must affect its cuisine as much as the rest of its life. So an unusually large share of meat in the local diets, or the shortage of grains and legumes due to the lack of fields we've discussed prior, cannot be used as indicators of difference.

Still, some amount of grains must be making it into the Town-on-Gorkhon, since they do have bread available. It wouldn't be fair to say it's un-Russian for not having black rye bread, though, since it only makes sense the Town makes do with whatever's shipped in, and it's likely wheat grows better in the climes near the steppe (in the Marble Nest demo the Bachelor even notes that "the local [bread] is greyish in color and crumbly to the touch, making you doubt if it was actually made from grain"). What is decidedly un-Russian, though, is the lack of any buns when there's flour available: pirozhki stuffed with beef or fish, rasstegai, or vatrushkas. Those were the street food of choice in the Imperial Russia, so extremely common, which means not seeing them is a strong sign the Town is not a part of anything like it.

And since we've mentioned vatrushkas - it's surprising that there's no stuffing for it in sight, no tvorog. Then again, there are no cheeses other than the steppe qurt at all, so I guess that can be attributed to that. There's a decisive shortage of diary foods in general: other than milk and tan (ayran), ice cream is spoken about but never shown (but at least it must be available), and kefir (widely spread throughout Russia by early XX century) isn't even mentioned.

But those are all foods one can carry; even if not exactly a cornucopia, they got at least some representation. Cooked dishes, the foundation of Russian cuisine, did not, at all. "Schi and porridge are our food" is a Russian saying describing the commoner diet throughout history; but I don't think I've seen even mentions of any soup or porridge in the game. Vegetables might be lacking for a soup (although I imagine it's pretty easy to catch scurvy with a diet like this), but where there's bread, there must be grains, and where there are grains, there can be porridge - especially minding that there's a source of milk always available to make it tastier.

The fruit and berry variety is even stranger. There are raisins, lemons and coffee beans available, yet the Haruspex has never eatern nor even seen in person a strawberry or a raspberry, both widely cultivated in temperate climate - despite him having studied outside of the Town for years, and likely joining the Army for a while. From that alone, one can imagine that the Capital-based civilization must have a climate radically different from the Russian Empire; further supported by the fact that the railroad to the Town is called "the north-western" one. This could suggest a state somewhere south-east of the steppe zone, in the mediterranean clime maybe.

Finally, while there are as already mentioned coffee beans for the healers to chew raw (like a wild animal would), there is a remarkable absence of the quintessential Russian drink: tea. Neither in compressed bricks, which one would expect in the steppe, and which would be the right thing to bite into, nor as the beautiful brew. Minding that a fancy samovar was a common way of showing prosperity at the beginning of the XX century for the lower classes, the absence of these is also telling. Lack of tea in historical Russia was a sure sign of utter societal collapse, only seen in the worst days of the Revolution - and even then people drank hot water from cups, even if there was nothing to brew with it.

Furthermore, drinking tea necessiates having sweets and confections, and there are noticeably few of these, too. As mentioned, ice cream can be found (in the dialogs), Murky says Sticky made her some candy, and Fellow Traveller calls the coupons he sells "candy wrappers", but that's about it - it would be nearly impossible for a Russian to properly drink tea in the Town to begin with!

I think this factor settles the original question decisively: a Town in which no one drinks tea ten times a day cannot possibly be a part of anything resembling the Russian Empire.