#*thanos voice* fine. i'll do it myself

[naffeclipse]

it really sucks when you want to look at anything monster boyfriend-related and it's only porn. where are the fun date nights in the woods where the mist can only be pierced by big glowing eyes? where is the hand holding with claws and scales? where are the beds that are actually coffins and falling asleep together after an exhausting night of roaming the graveyard? where's the quiet evening of star-gazing with a being who can tell you about each star they visited? where's the domesticity of cooking in your haunted house with help from disembodied hands? where are the inside jokes about non-superstitious people having encounters and cackling so sinisterly in that inhuman way that you love?

[bilestat]

[lilisettean]

Ice Wine | Zayne/Reader

About: A slight misstep and slip of hand when playfully shoving Zayne caused you to fall onto his lap, with you straddling him.

Pairing: Zayne/Reader

Notes: A partial rewrite and continuation of Zayne: Drunken Intimacy. I liked the memoria event from this card but when compared to Xavier and Rafayel's... Yeah...

AO3: Read here!

Warnings: Dubious consent (reader is drunk), light bondage, hints of dominant Zayne, hints of brat/brat taming. Age 18+ please! Enjoy :)

“I… Whatever. I’m going to sleep.”

You mumbled, pointedly ignoring the warmth lingering on your cheek. At this point, you don’t know whether you were flushed because of the alcohol in your system, or because of the position you were in.

While inspecting Zayne’s chin for bruises, a slip of your feet made you tumble forward, causing you to straddle him while you looked at him for possible injuries due to your headbutt earlier. 

The suggestive position you were in hadn’t registered until he kissed you, his face mere inches away from yours afterwards. It didn’t help when you tugged at his loose tie again to tease him, only to be met by his hands gripping at your waist, pulling you closer to him.

Unlike most of the time when his skin was cold, almost icy, to the touch, you could feel heat radiating off him, warming you even further. 

“I thought you had good reflexes.” He remarked, his eyes not once leaving your face. You met his gaze head on, determined not to shrink away from his intense focus on you. “For a hunter to be caught so easily… It seems you’ve gotten careless, no?”

“...Do I need to be alert when with you?”

He froze at your reply, his grip on your waist loosened momentarily before tightening again. “How sly.” He smiled as he leaned into you, closing the gap that was present. “One would think you are tempting fate.”

“Yes, how sly.” You mumbled, unperturbed by the sudden closeness. “You haven’t drank a single drop of wine, and yet you act as if you are drunk. You’re not making any sense here.”

“With you in front of me like this… How am I supposed to make sense of anything?”

You furrowed your eyebrows, a question ready on your tongue but then something within you clicked, a sudden realization shocked you out of your drunken stupor. 

The heat. 

Zayne never was warm to the touch, unless he was sick. But he was neither that nor a drinker, so that left only one possible explanation.

You quickly glanced down, and you were appalled to find the neckline of your dress was pulled down further and the strap of your dress falling to the side, giving Zayne an eyeful of your cleavage. It didn’t help that because of the dress, you opted to use pasties instead, leaving your breasts barely covered. 

Combined with you straddling his lap, and your face flushed from the alcohol, the sight made it seem as though you two were–

No longer hiding his true intentions, Zayne slid one of his hands down your hip and under your dress, caressing your thigh. “Am I still not making any sense to you?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Seeing you shiver at his touch yet not pulling away from him, he continued. “You wouldn’t object if I kept you close, would you?”

Instead of replying however, you hooked a finger onto his loose tie, and–

“Mmph–”

It was as though a switch had been flipped the moment his lips met yours. Gone were those gentle touches and careful caresses of your skin, his need to be with you– be in you– consuming every single rational thought he had. 

While you had the element of surprise, shocking him when you sealed his lips with yours, he quickly wrestled back control, taking the lead of the kiss by tilting his head slightly for better access and pushing his tongue against yours. The roughness of him pulling your hips closer to him, to have you straddle his crotch and feel his clothed cock nudging against your inner thigh, made it seem like he was as drunk as you were, having lost control of his tightly held restraint. 

No, he was as drunk as you were. But instead of being drunk on those fruit wines you brought home, he was intoxicated by something– someone– else.

You.

“Zayne–” You gasped between kisses, your face no longer flushed due to the alcohol, but because of the intensity of his kisses, not giving you much respite between them. It didn’t help that his hands were roaming all over you, the warmth from his touch seeping into you, banishing all hints of drowsiness away.

You fumbled with his tie and cursed at the many buttons his shirt had while he tugged down the straps of your dress, peeling away the annoying pasties that were in the way and cupped your breast, thumbing over your pert nipple.

“A lot of people asked about you tonight.” Zayne remarked as he kissed your neck, his breath tickling your skin. “They asked if you were single.”

“What did you tell them?” You asked moments later, too distracted by the hand that was under your dress. He had dipped his fingertips under the waistband of your panties, toying with it and teasing you for what’s to come.

“No.” His denial, while quiet, was firm, commanding almost. “You are not. In fact–”

Zayne adjusted the position you were in, keeping you close and– oh. 

“You are taken.” He stated, emphasized by the bulge pressed against your clothed heat. You could feel the outline of his cock next to you, its hardness causing warmth to pool within you. Against better judgment, in which you should undress him and yourself before attempting anything, lest you ruin the outfits, you wiggled your hips and responded in kind.

And before you could react, he slid a hand under your hips and lifted you up, and pinned you down to the sofa, forcing you into the same position as earlier when you had tugged on his tie.

Unlike earlier when you were in control and him pulling away at the end however, he was hovering above you, one of his hands right beside your head while the other was still on your hips, his body right between your thighs.

Your heat clenched in anticipation, waiting for him to pull you closer and onto his clothed cock. But instead of that he paused to look at you, his half lidded eyes roaming all over your form.

You took the chance to take a good look at him as well, to see if he was just as affected by this non alcohol induced heat. His tie was long gone and his shirt was half buttoned, revealing his broad chest. While his pants remained the same, you could see the outline of his cock straining against the front of his pants, making you wonder how it would feel against, and inside you.

Zayne felt his cock throb at the sight, and he couldn’t help but bunch your dress up further to your abdomen, exposing more of you to him.

“The dress…” You mentioned, suddenly made aware of it. He had paid for both of your outfits before you could’ve and you’d hate to ruin his gift. But he silenced you by lowering himself down to your lips and sealed it with his, distracting you.

You were so caught up in him that you barely noticed him pressing closer to you, his hand that was on your hip no longer there. It was only when you heard the unbuckling of his belt and the telltale unzipping that you remember about the dress.

“The dress will be ruined if I don’t take it off.” You breathed out after you broke away from the kiss, your eyes darting down to where his cock would be. And sure enough, it was right on top of your heat, its tip glistening with precome. Zayne tilted your chin upward before you could stare at it further however, forcing you to meet his heated gaze head on.

“Don’t worry about it. I want it on you.”

“Have you been imagining fucking me while in this dress, Zayne?” You teased, and when he responded with a small smile only, you laughed. “Who knew ‘Zayne the Terrifying’ had such dirty thoughts?”

“I may be a terrifying man, but I am still a man in the end.” He replied as he pushed your panties to the side, and dragged a finger up against your entrance. “Especially when it comes to you.”

With that, he captured your lips once more, slotting himself between your slick folds, and thrusted slowly against you. His hands were on your hips, sliding your wet heat up and down the side of his stiff cock as he fucked your folds.

It was difficult to concentrate, every single coherent thought disappearing like mist with every thrust against you. You had half a mind to unbutton his shirt further, to slip your hands under them and drive him mad with want like he did to you, but that required focus, which you had none of. Especially when his cock grazed over your clit, forcing whatever drive you had out of you.

The ache to have something, anything, within you grew every time his tip caught onto your entrance. You waited  with bated breath for the inevitable push of his hardened cock into your waiting heat, only to have him thrust upward again, leaving you wanting.

You reached down to take matters into your own hands. But before you could do so, Zayne caught your wrist and pinned both of your hands above your head.

“Zayne–” You whined in protest when he reluctantly pulled away from you. But instead of teasing you as expected, his attention was elsewhere, his free hand grasping onto something on the side while he kept you pinned down with one hand.

You tried to see what he was looking for, but couldn’t as his attention returned to you once more, his half lidded gaze freezing you in place. He merely smiled at your confusion, and you were about to question him when you felt it.

He was binding your wrists with something… soft. Was that silk– oh. 

His tie.

Zayne leaned down to nip your earlobe, the corners of his lips twitching upward when you wriggled against your restraint. “Behave and let me.” He whispered, his soft demand contrasting your whimpers. “Impatience will get you nowhere.”

“And if I don’t?”

“In that case…” He trailed off, pulling away from you and sat up. His cock was no longer between your folds, and was instead replaced by his finger, prodding and teasing your heat. He traced the edges of your entrance, coating his finger with slick, before pushing it in. 

Before you could question him on how this was going to force you to behave, he curled his finger and prodded at your soft spot, touching it every time he pumped his finger in and out of your heat. 

Just when you were accustomed to his touch, he pulled his finger out of you entirely. A thin strand of slick connected your heat and his finger, snapping when he brought it up to his lips, staring directly into you whilst he licked his finger clean.

“Now…” Zayne said, positioning himself between your thighs once more. He had wanted to please you and push you towards that high you wanted at least once before burying his fingers, then his stiff cock, inside you, but your impatience– and his as well if he were to be honest– forced his hand. “Will you behave and let me prepare you?” 

“Or do you want me to make you beg?”

[saikkunen]

👁️👅👁️

[blindmagdalena]

yooo apologies for this cuz this is super specific and i think that u posted this anon’s ask a while back (maybe a year ago?) telling you they were working on a fic where the concept is that the reader is terrified of supes and HL is trying to catch their eye…?

have u heard anything back from them ive been trying to scavenge thru ur profile to find any updates. and btw i really like gilded cage keep up the good work!

ohhh oh oh yeah i know the ask you're referring to!! unfortunately i don't thiiink i ever heard back about this.

i could be wrong. if anyone knows of something like this, or you're the anon in question, please let me know!

it's funny that you mention this because just the other day i was reading about what people think it would be like to work at Vought, and it gave me such brainworms for a reader who works at Vought but treats every day there like a covert mission where they're just trying to get out alive 😂 it ties in nicely with being terrified of supes but having to work in relatively close proximity to them.

[hjbender]

It has to be me.

Disappointed once again by a book that looked really promising and had an interesting premise, and I'd specifically requested my library to hold for me...

I gave up before even getting to the third chapter. The author was positively murdering the flow of action by info-dumping huge—and I mean fucking HUGE—blocks of text, we're talking a paragraph filling an entire page, each time he introduced new characters, and in the driest, most mind-numbing way possible. He did a good job of mimicking Conan Doyle's diction, as was clearly intended, the only difference being Doyle can actually keep readers awake. Again, maybe it's just me. What I read was extremely well-researched, as I'd expect from period literature, but the presentation was just... boring as fuck. God. The inciting incident was shocking and exciting, but it turned out to be false advertising. One or two exciting bits isn't enough to invest in 498 pages—

Oh. Shit. I just read the author bio when I was looking for the page count.

It was written by a military historian.

No wonder I felt like I was sitting in a lecture hall. I could practically hear Ashokan Farewell in the background.

Dammit. This is the fourth book in as many weeks I've tried and tossed. Seems like I didn't have this problem when I was younger and more focused and had lots of spare time.

This is going to be the thing that finally pushes me into publishing: spite. Pure, seething spite.

[pondslime]

Elisha Cuthbert as Danielle in The Girl Next Door (2004) dir. Luke Greenfield

[heartmanor]

boys don't cry

[charavioli]

ref

[nottheangel-raphael]

[distfae]

I can't function properly so heres a list of elm headcanons:

He's capable of sleeping upside down, but that would also require him to transform at least his legs to be able to hang, right...

(he doesn't need sleep it just passes time)

FANGS :((( EVEN IF THEYRE TINY!!

He takes care of his nails on a regular basis. Probably doesn't see the point in nail polish if the paint is just going to chip off.

I imagine he likes figs. slide a fig cake in front of him and its gonna be the highlight of his week. Mangoes may be suitable too

His hypothetical room at the castle would be pretty barren. He wouldn't care to go in that much and thinks its ridiculous that they gave him a room anyhow.

He is actually curious about humans, but more in a manner of confusion. Why do they argue if it's not going to mean anything in a week's time? Why do they do away with their wealth for meaningless trinkets? Quickly-fleeting impulses that do not have any greater value in years to come.

He's also a hypocrite when he scoffs at how impulsive humans are. But this isn't about him, of course. It's about the humans.

If it's cold, he's leaving. Completely intolerable to it. NY alt touches on this but im talking "no way am i going out there are u kidding me" kind of cold hater.

If someone asked him for directions in the castle, he'd give them the wrong directions just to fw them.

Can be found perched on top of the following: balcony railings, street lamps, monumental Askran statues (illegal), tree limbs, chandeliers, and ceiling beams.

Can also be found at cattle ranches, observing the herds from the fences.

May have tried approaching one at some point but the cow got spooked by his flying.

I definitely have more than that but that's enough for now. I am very hyperfixated on this guy rn.

[oneshotprincess]

ppl be like our bisexual king claude von riegan!!! and then write virtually no m!byleth and claude...cowards...

[starlitangels]

Keeping Cool

Me: I dunno... the Fourseen is such an enclosed story... there’s not a lot of room for where I usually put my fics... Also me: Wait! That one time-skip in the Fire Path! For the record I don’t know how to spell anything besides the character names from mythology 1.4k words (almost exactly!)

—

“Thank you for the update,” Tyr said to the guards. They spun around sharply and marched off. The door creaked open and slammed shut behind them.

The moment they were gone, Odin groaned in complaint and flopped face-first down on the floor. “A transfer delay?” he demanded, voice muffled a bit by the flagstone floor. “How can they just expect us to keep sitting here?”

“It’s not that bad,” I retorted.

“We are their prisoners,” Tyr reasoned, much more calmly. “It stands to reason that we will operate on their timetable, not any preferences of our own.”

“This is ridiculous! First they say Fenrir is a traitor even though he and Okami have always been friends and that’s ridiculous—and then they throw me in a cell in a basement!”

“Us,” I corrected.

“Fine, fine. Us,” Odin said. He rolled over onto his back, spread-eagle on the floor and staring up at the ceiling. “I’m going to die in here.”

“It hasn’t even been twelve hours!” I snapped. Odin winced away from me slightly as the fire my body was made of lashed out a bit, a flame licking toward him. But didn’t brush him. I rolled my eyes. “Sure it’s boring but that’s no reason for us to just lose our heads just yet.”

Odin sat up. “Hey, look, you’ve already lost your head—I see no reason why I can’t lose mine!”

“Odin,” Tyr said softly. “Is that the kindest way to speak to your friend who sacrificed their life to get the knowledge that brought you here to your other friend?”

“They got something out of it too!” Odin protested. “Full use of the Galaxy Gate when this whole thing is over with!”

“And that gives you a reason to... joke? Despite the fact that you were the one to cut their head off in the first place?”

“I...” Odin paused, thinking it through as his eyes narrowed and his brows lowered.

I rolled my eyes again. Odin tended to be a smart guy and he was a capable Joten warrior—but gods he could be a dumbass a good portion of the time. I shifted a bit so my flames snapped upwards at a slightly different angle. Much more comfortable—though I had no clue how to explain why. “Yeah, that’s what I figured,” I grumbled.

“Oi!” Odin protested again. “The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you can’t even be bothered to think of anything or anyone else because you’re too focused on your own boredom! You are impatient, immature, and irritating!” I exclaimed.

“Am I, now?” he demanded.

“Yes.”

“Why am I irritating?”

“Because between you and me, one of us needs to keep our cool and I am physically incapable!”

My fire flared a lot larger than I intended. Odin jumped back and even Tyr leaned slightly away from me. I sucked in a deep breath and watched the flames recede, burning gently, much closer to my main body. I frowned and moved to stand in a corner of the cell up against the stone wall, hoping to cool off.

“Perhaps we all need to take a moment to breathe,” Tyr suggested. I didn’t meet his eyes, nor Odin’s. Just sulked in my corner with my arms folded. I took several deep breaths, sliding down the cool stone wall and sitting on the stone floor.

I tried to occupy my thoughts with calm, happy things. But it always felt like the nice thoughts went up in flames moments after I conjured them up.

I’m not sure how long I sat in silence, staring at a chip in the stone floor and contemplating whether there was a way for me to melt the rock and how I might be able to go about it if there was. But a noise—too close to my shoulder for comfort—made me jolt and whirl.

Odin was sitting far enough away that he seemed to have deemed himself safe, but was still close. “Uh... hey,” he said softly.

“Hi,” I said.

“Sorry for... the joke.”

I glanced across the small cell. “Tyr put you up to this?”

The marbled giant shook his head.

“No, I... he’s right, though. I shouldn’t have said that. I wasn’t thinking.”

The sharp retort of Do you ever? died on my tongue. “I forgive you,” I said instead.

“Thanks.” He traced mindless shapes into the slight coat of dirt on the floor. “I’m glad you’re back,” he said, almost too quietly for me to hear.

I scrunched my eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“The argument. You sounded more like yourself. Like you got your... bite back. You’ve been quieter than you used to be since I first saw you on the mountain, alive again. I know I cut your head off but... I didn’t mean to kill your personality too.”

I took a deep breath. “You didn’t,” I muttered. “It’s just... been an adjustment. Dying. Being brought back. Getting a body like... this.” I waved an arm, watching the flames trail in the wake of the movement. “Then to get thrown onto an unfamiliar world and immediately surrounded by hostile... what does this race call themselves again, Tyr?”

“Fengrals.”

“Fengrals. Hostile Fengrals. It’s been a lot for the last, you know, day or so.”

Odin pursed his lips. “Yeah. I can see why you’d think that,” he agreed.

I chuckled. Any day before today I would have nudged him in the elbow playfully, but I didn’t actually want to burn him. “Well, we can’t all be quite as adventurous as you, huh?” I teased.

That made him laugh. Just a bit. “No I guess not,” he agreed. “Even if adventuring, er... gets me banned from every ship depot on Esselheim.”

I burst out laughing, surprising Odin, Tyr, and myself. “Fair enough,” I said around my laughter, making the words almost shaky. Odin’s laughter joined me, more earnest this time. The tension hanging in the air of the cell burned away, and things felt like old times again. Back when Odin and I had first become friends and I used to rib him about being a rapscallion—and a bunch of other long words that he pretended not to know so he could make a joke out of it.

He glanced over at me after a bit. “Are you really okay with... just... being on fire all the time?”

I shrugged. “I chose it. There wasn’t a lot of time so I only had a few options.”

“Well... maybe when this is over you can get a body that, er, isn’t on fire?”

I peeked over at Tyr. For the life of me I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. There were no clues on his face at all. “I don’t think it works like that, Odin,” I said softly. “I think, now that I picked this, I have to keep it. If there had been more time, I... maybe I could have had a proper body. Look like a normal Joten again. But we were in a rush, all of us. So this is what I get.”

“I’m sorry,” Odin offered.

I shrugged. “It’s fine. It’s an adjustment but I’m sure I’ll get used to it eventually.”

Odin heaved a long, dramatic sigh and leaned back against the stone wall of the back of the cell. “Assuming we ever get out of here,” he groaned in complaint. That time, I definitely caught Tyr smiling. It was small, but it was there.

“You really have no patience, do you?” I asked.

“I’ve never had to be patient for this long before!”

“Well, then perhaps you are learning a valuable lesson,” Tyr commented. Odin flinched slightly—like he’d forgotten Tyr was even there. All things considered, he might have. Tyr had been remarkably quiet and eerily still for the last little while.

“I don’t want to learn a lesson! I want to get out of here.”

“Well, glad we’re right back to where we started,” I remarked. Tyr’s gaze met mine and we both chuckled.

“Not quite. Perhaps this time we can avoid the argument,” Tyr said.

“Hopefully,” I agreed. I got to my feet. “C’mon Odin. Let’s see if we can find some way to entertain you long enough to keep whatever biomechanical brain you have from short-circuiting too badly.”

He got to his feet. “Thank the gods—I don’t think I could take just sitting here in silence. What do you want to do?”

—

Tagging some GB peeps: @palilious @gwenifred @ryn-halo26 @daveyistheloml @monster-scribe-tya @miloeveryday38 

[kopitori]

let them touch i am begging

i don’t usually put many sketches on here but i’m mourning 

[blindmagdalena]

Anika is such a throwaway character in The Boys but i'm obsessed with her scenes. especially the one with Homelander. how do we not have a dozen fics of him harassing her in crime analytics, using her behind the scenes to be his eyes and ears. where's my fic where he finds out Deep fired her, slaps him upside the head and drags her back into the office himself. look how CUTE she is

she also gets a patent Homie point, which we love.

don't even get me started on when he pushes her chair in and moves her hand. did no one else rewind this scene several times.

this LOOK he gives her after?? guys the fanfic writes itself. please.

[fratricideknight]

when my (allo) mutuals claim that people from at least 50 different countries aren't lining up to date them