#technically? never sure what and what not to tag

[thebibliosphere]

Do you think Bruce Wayne would flirt with Benoit Blanc?

I think if Bruce ever found himself in a situation to meet Benoit Blanc, to his great chagrin, it’d be as Brucie Wayne. He’d be on some rich fuck’s island under cover when a murder happens and it’d be killing him that he can’t break cover to get a closer look at the body. And then along comes Benoit Blanc and Bruce decides, well he’s Brucie right now, it’d be weird if he didn’t flirt a little.

And hey, who knows, if Blanc likes him maybe he’ll let Bruce tag along and get into places Brucie wouldn’t normally be if he wasn’t trying to seduce this weirdly accented, tall glass of deductive skills. (And maybe he’s enjoying it a little more than he should, but technically he’s on vacation so…)

Blanc, of course, catches on and thinks Bruce has something to hide and is keeping him close because he thinks he’s either the killer or in on it.

Except that’s not what the evidence or instincts are actually telling him. Not really.

But he also can’t ignore the fact that Bruce managed to trip and fall directly into the filing cabinet in the office, causing the drawer to fly open and reveal the evidence Blanc’s looking for. Or that the billionaire has a slightly delayed reaction to seeing blood. Not much, but enough for Blanc to notice.

There’s also the way he keeps making suggestions that on the surface seem benign, but are nevertheless intended to lead Blanc toward where his own instincts are telling him to look. So either Brucie is one of those killers who likes to be involved in the investigation because they want to make sure you’re noticing their ‘genius’ or because they think they can control the narrative by being helpful, or…

“Y’know something, Mister Wayne…”

“Benoit, please,” Bruce says with a slow, seductive smile that unfurls like silk over rich velvet. “How many times do I have to ask? Call me Bruce.”

“… Bruce. You’ve been so remarkably helpful.”

“Oh, you know me. I always aim to please.”

Bruce’s smile takes on an electric edge that makes Benoit’s thumb slide to the gold wedding band on his ring finger. He’s a married man, he’s a married man…

“I can’t help but wonder, though,” Benoit says, matching Bruce’s smile for a knowing one of his own. “Don’t you get tired?”

His tone is off, he knows it is because Bruce’s expression doesn’t flicker, not even a jot. It’s just unnatural enough to be telling.

“Tired of what?” the younger man asks, just the right amount of cheerful confusion in his voice and an adorable title of his head like a puppy to make you miss the sharpness behind his eyes. The way his body is coiling tight. Ready for a fight.

“Of pretending,” Benoit says, lifting a cigar to his mouth, making a show of patting down his pockets for the lighter. “I know I surely do. It grates on a man, always being underestimated. Everyone thinking you’re not as sharp as you are. Not as clever, not as quick. It must be a relief, I think, to finally be seen…”

The hand that had been rummaging in his pocket shoots out, aiming for Bruce’s perfect face. Bruce deflects it, twisting Benoit’s hand in a viper-like move Benoit hasn’t seen since…

“Ra’s doesn’t train just anyone,” he says, acutely aware of how much Bruce’s expression has changed without so much of a flicker of muscle. How sharp and hard the angles of his face have become. How deadly. “I confess, I didn’t see it at first. You’re very good, Bruce. I never would have put two and two together if you hadn’t twisted Haggart’s elbow the way you did when he tried to grab Maxine.” He smiles self-deprecatingly. “Take that as a compliment from one detective to another… Batman.”

[steddieas-shegoes]

black swan

for @steddiesportsau prompt 'dance'

rated t | 3331 words | no cw | tags: ballet dancer steve, ballet dancer eddie, high school, steve has bad parents, not canon compliant, getting together, sort of strangers to lovers

🩰🩰🩰🩰🩰🩰🩰🩰🩰🩰🩰🩰🩰

Steve stops dancing when he’s 12. His dad insists it’s time for him to “grow out of it” and “play a real sport.” It’s fine. It’s not like he’s the best in the class and on a fast track to an invitation to the New York Ballet or anything.

He starts swimming because he has the build for it and it’s easy.

He starts basketball to make his father shut up about being on a team.

The worst part is that he’s good at that too. Not great, not like ballet, but good.

He makes both teams in high school, even makes varsity basketball his sophomore year. He’s captain by junior year.

Sometimes, he stops by the studio he used to dance at, between classes, just to check in with the director and make sure everything’s going well. She always asks if he wants to come back. He always wants to say yes.

****

On his 18th birthday, his parents are gone, and he’s lonely. Nancy’s busy, and even if she weren’t, they aren’t anything except friends. Barely that.

Tommy and Carol have written him off now that they’re going away to college in the fall, and he wouldn’t want to have them over anyway. They’re on a different path than Steve, always have been. He’s just been so desperate for connection, he’s let everything slide.

Just before dinner, he drives to the dance studio. There’s not many classes happening on Tuesdays, but maybe someone will be there to let him in. He doesn’t see any cars in the parking lot, but there’s a light on inside.

The door is unlocked, and music is playing from the back room. It’s a much smaller room, designed for solos and duets only, not group routines. The music is not ballet music, but it could be a jazz or tap routine.

The man dancing is beautiful, in loose sweats and curly hair up in a bun that seems like it’s barely hanging on. He moves gracefully, but there’s an edge to it, something Steve always wished he had, even though he didn’t technically need it. His pointe shoes are torn, much more worn in than what’s recommended for anyone, especially men on pointe.

Steve’s amazed, the way he moves to a song that’s mostly heavy drums and guitar, makes it look like a classical piece as his arms and legs do everything the way Steve used to. He resists saying anything.

Then he catches sight of the man’s face.

It’s Eddie Munson.

Eddie Munson dances?

“What the fuck.”

Eddie freezes, turns to him, falling to the flats of his feet. He looks caught out, as if he’s doing something wrong. He must be allowed to be here if the place is unlocked for him. Eddie might be a terrible student and definitely deals weed out of a lunchbox, but he’d never break into a dance studio just to use it.

He looks like he’s gonna run.

“Wait,” Steve says to stop him before he can. He steps closer. “How long have you danced?”

“Uh, five years?”

So they never took a class together. Steve was worried he’d somehow forgotten.

“Did you always take classes here?”

“I’ve never taken classes here.”

Now, Steve’s confused even more. He’s lived in Hawkins for at least 10 years. He remembers when he started living with his uncle. His first day at Hawkins Elementary set the tone for the rest of his time in school; Tommy and a few of his friends making his life miserable because of his much too large flannel shirt and greasy hair.

Steve had stayed quiet then, just as he did for most of middle and high school.

“How are you in here then?” He asks.

“I’ve had a key for two years. Ms. Laseaux made sure I had one when she had to cut her evening hours during the week,” Eddie explains. “I swear I’m allowed to be here. Don’t call the cops, please.”

“Dude, I’m not gonna call the cops. If you say you have permission, then you’re good,” Steve hates that Eddie still looks like he might run. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. Is it okay if I watch?”

“Uh.”

Eddie’s music stops and the silence is almost as loud as the heavy music.

“It’s okay if not. You’re just beautiful,” Steve says honestly.

Eddie’s face flushes red and Steve has an immediate and overwhelming urge to see how far the blush goes. He shakes the thought from his head.

“Um. I guess I can start from the beginning?” Eddie offers.

“I’d love to see the whole routine,” Steve smiles.

Eddie rewinds the tape and starts it again, gets into position, and changes Steve’s life.

It’s even more beautiful from the start, a whole story unfolding before Steve’s eyes. Instead of the music being a distraction, it builds the emotion. Steve hasn’t seen anyone dance quite like Eddie.

Eddie seems a little nervous, but he never falters. He knows this routine well, front to back, probably back to front, too. It’s stage-ready and Steve wonders if he’s ever performed it outside of this room. He doesn’t think anyone else could possibly know he dances, at least not this well. He belongs on a stage.

He feels water on his cheek and he reaches up to wipe it away. He’s crying.

He remembers the time his mom cried at his first solo during a recital, how proud she was of him, and how proud he was of himself. He wonders if anyone has ever been that proud of Eddie.

“Steve?” Eddie asks.

The music’s stopped and Eddie’s breathing hard from fifth position. Steve’s tears are still falling.

Eddie’s hands cover his face, wiping away tears that just won’t stop.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s amazing; You’re amazing. Please tell me you perform somewhere,” Steve sniffs, smiles at him. “Did you get a senior solo last year?”

“No,” Eddie says quietly. “I can’t afford the fees for actual studio time and it’s required to perform at the recital. But I get to come here once a week and get it out of my system.”

Steve is about to offer to use all of his savings to pay for whatever Eddie needs. He has to get out of here, dance on bigger stages, be seen by people who can get him where he should be.

“The timing of the arabesque, Eddie, it’s beautiful. The leaps are textbook. The way you timed that kick with a cymbal crash. I mean, everything. You’re so technical, but emotional, and it’s like it takes no effort for you. You could easily get into a ballet school or a company,” Steve is talking and Eddie is still holding his face. He’s probably still crying.

“Thank you, but this is kinda it for me. I just love dancing,” Eddie takes his hands away and Steve instantly misses them. He knows he’s feeling a bit lonely– it’s his birthday, after all– but he liked how warm they were, how the blisters across his palm seemed to rub just right against Steve’s cheekbones. “You seem to know a lot.”

“I danced when I was a kid. Here.”

“Really?” Eddie seems genuinely shocked. “I thought you were, like, a stereotypical jock guy. No one’s ever mentioned you.”

Steve laughs, but he feels a pang in his chest. He knows why no one talks about him here. Most of the history of him being here was erased at his dad’s demand.

“Pretty much from the time I was potty trained to when I was 12. I had to quit,” he doesn’t feel like going into a deep dive of why he had to quit while he’s standing in the room he had to do it in. “I still come by to see Ms. Laseaux when I won’t interrupt classes. She was my instructor for six years of my life. She put so much into my lessons.”

“Were you good?” Eddie asks.

Steve laughs again. He’s not as confident as he pretends to be most of the time, but he’s sure of one thing: he was a phenomenal dancer.

“I was her best student.”

Eddie nods like he was expecting that answer.

“She mentioned wishing she could’ve had me earlier. Said she would’ve done anything to pair me with her star.”

Steve wishes more than anything he could’ve danced with Eddie. They would have been unstoppable. His dad would’ve never allowed him to dance with another boy, but the thought still makes him warm.

“I’m sure she would’ve had us in New York or Boston or Europe the second she could,” Steve smiles fondly. “She tried to bribe my mom into going behind my dad’s back for nearly a year.”

“I’m guessing he’s not okay with his son dancing like a fairy?” Eddie’s lip curls up in disgust.

“Bingo.”

“Well, join the club. That’s why I didn’t start until I lived with my uncle, but he couldn’t afford to put me in real classes,” Eddie explains. He’s rolling his ankles one by one while he stands there, something that Steve knows is a nervous habit, one he had backstage before shows. “Ms. Laseaux was a bit sweet on my uncle when I first lived with him. He didn’t have much time for dating, but I think they would’ve fallen in love if it weren’t for me. She wanted to do what she could to help, even when it was obvious they weren’t gonna work out.”

Steve does remember one visit only a couple years after he quit where she talked about a nice man who fell into some unfortunate circumstances, and how she wished she could do more than help his nephew out.

“She’s always been amazing. I wish I brought my slippers, I could’ve at least stretched and tried to learn some of that,” Steve gestures towards Eddie. “Not that I’d do it any justice with how long I’ve been out of it.”

“If you were as good as she says, I think you’d catch on quick enough,” Eddie smirks. “I have an extra pair if you think you can fit?”

It’s a huge no usually. Wearing someone else’s broken in pointe shoes is just asking for bad luck and injury, especially if you don’t know the dancer well. As nice an offer as it is, Steve should say no.

“I could try,” he says instead.

Eddie’s beaming smile silences any doubt he had in his head that this would be a mistake. He rushes to his bag in the corner and pulls out a practically brand new set of shoes.

Steve is hesitant to take them when he offers.

“These look…shouldn’t you be trying to break these in for your own feet?” Steve doesn’t know why he’s wearing torn up shoes when he has these. They look nice, and he recognizes the brand when he turns them over in his head. They are nice. Some of the nicest shoes you can buy without getting into the thousands of dollars range.

Eddie shrugs. “I like these.”

“But these cost a fortune. How did you even get these?”

“I saved up for them. I’ll break them in when I can’t wear these at all anymore,” Eddie smiles, nudges his shoulder to make him put them on. “C’mon, you need to stretch.”

Steve listens, walks over to the corner to put the shoes on, stretch out his legs and back, groaning when he pops his shoulder. He’s been a little tense all week, worried that his parents would come home for his birthday and expect him to do some kind of business dinner.

This is a much better way to spend his birthday.

Eddie is…frolicking might actually be the best word for it. He’s not exactly dancing, but he’s not really walking either. Steve almost gets too caught up watching his movements to finish what he’s doing.

“Do you want me to show you this one or do you wanna show me something first?” Eddie asks. He sounds excited, maybe even more than Steve is.

It’s not like quitting dance meant Steve actually stopped dancing. He just only did it at home, and had to make sure he was alone, which has been increasingly more difficult over the high school years. His friends practically lived at his house, even when he didn’t want them to.

But he’s still out of practice, and probably not nearly as nimble as this dance would require. He’s not sure what he would even show Eddie. His last dance recital was six years ago, and he doubts the tape with his music is even here anymore.

“Um, you can show me some of yours. Maybe the drum part?” Steve’s voice shakes with sudden nerves. He hasn’t had eyes on him while he danced in a long time. He wasn’t built like this the last time he properly danced, either.

Eddie smirks. “The whole song is the drum part, but I know what you mean.”

Steve blushes. Eddie takes position in the center of the room, leaving enough space for Steve to stand next to him.

They look at each other in the mirror. Steve nods.

Eddie moves so fluidly, even when he’s going slower to show Steve. It’s like he’s a waterfall and Steve’s the river below, waiting to take what he’s giving to move it along in a beautiful and seamless way.

It hits Steve when he’s watching Eddie turn that if Eddie’s never taken a proper class, he must’ve choreographed this dance himself.

“Steve?” Eddie’s hand on his arm startles him from his thoughts. “Need me to do it again?”

“Sorry. Yes, please,” he doesn’t know why he can’t focus, but Eddie continues to show him three more times and he still doesn’t quite get the timing right. “Sorry, I think I’m just distracted.”

“Why don’t you show me a routine you’re familiar with?” Eddie asks.

“I’m not sure I remember any enough,” Steve tries to say, but Eddie shakes his head.

“You’re a dancer. You remember.”

He’s right. He may miss a few steps here and there, or get the timing just a bit off, but he can remember most of every routine he ever did on a stage. He does it without music, something that Ms. Laseaux always made him do before recitals to ensure he knew the timing in his head.

He doesn’t pay attention to Eddie’s reactions until he’s done.

He’s breathless, and not just from the dance. Eddie’s eyes are shining, and his lips are parted in a way that makes Steve want to slip his tongue between them and taste him. He’s a bit thrown by the thought, but only because he hasn’t had those kinds of thoughts in a long time. Not since Nancy broke up with him.

Eddie stands from the floor and walks over to him, still seemingly in shock over his dancing.

Steve’s ankles are sore, and he’s a bit mad he chose the hardest dance he ever did. His heart is trying to beat out of his chest. His legs are shaking.

Eddie cups his face, eyes searching his.

“You should have let her bribe your mom,” he says quietly. “You belong on the stage, too.”

Steve feels tears prick his eyes and it’s ridiculous to be crying for the second time in front of Eddie, but he’s a little overwhelmed.

“I miss it,” he chokes out. Eddie nods because he knows. Maybe not the same way Steve does, but he knows his own yearning, his own pain at being unable to perform the way his body is capable of. He might be the only other person in Hawkins who understands him. “I shouldn’t have let him stop me.”

“You were a kid, Steve,” Eddie’s voice breaks. “You didn’t have a choice.”

“I do now,” Steve sounds more sure than he thought he could with tears streaming down his face. “What can he do now that I’m 18 other than cut me off? He won’t. My mom wouldn’t let him and his business partners would think less of him.”

Eddie’s brows furrow. He looks away for a moment, his lips moving around words Steve can’t hear. When he looks back at Steve, he looks heartbroken.

“Is today your birthday?”

Steve nods. He’s not sure why Eddie looks so upset. This is turning into one of the best birthdays he’s ever had and he’s starting to feel relief that he finally feels brave enough to stand up to his dad.

“And you came here?” Somehow, he sounds even more upset.

“I didn’t really want to go anywhere else,” Steve tilts his head as he answers. “This is always where I’ve felt the least lonely.”

“Dance with me.”

They danced already. A little. But Steve thinks he means something different now.

“What do you know?” Steve asks, a flutter in his chest at the thought of touching Eddie, lifting Eddie, feeling Eddie against him.

“Swan Lake?” Eddie asks.

“You know Swan Lake? How?” Steve doesn’t mean to sound rude, but he’s a little shocked someone who’s never even taken a ballet class would know the most famous pas de deux.

“I have eyes and an uncle who buys me tapes of famous ballets from some guy in Chicago. They’re shit quality, but I watch them so often, I’ve taught myself.”

“You’re amazing.”

Eddie laughs. “Let’s see if I can pull it off first.”

Eddie rushes over to the corner, searching through the tapes on the shelf. Most of the popular ballets are there, and Steve knows every piece from Swan Lake is probably on the top. All the seniors tend to use those for their solos.

He finds what he’s looking for and slots the tape in the stereo. Steve knows there’s a slow start to the music, and it allows plenty of time for them to get into position.

It’s easy falling into this with Eddie. They don’t even discuss who will take which part, they just fall into what’s natural. Steve hasn’t spent as much time en pointe as Eddie clearly has, so he takes the male lead, happy just to have his hands gently guiding through the dance. He’s not meant to be the star of the show, and he wouldn’t wanna be as long as Eddie’s the one front and center.

When they finish, it’s easy to close the distance between them, lips brushing together in the gentlest kiss Steve’s ever experienced. He immediately wants more, but he waits.

He may have been leading the dance, but he doesn’t want to lead with this.

Eddie cups his cheek, still catching his breath.

“Happy birthday, Steve.”

It throws Steve off. He almost forgot it was his birthday. He got so caught up in just being around Eddie, dancing, feeling this freedom he only ever felt at the studio.

He doesn’t remember the last time he actually celebrated his birthday. It had to be before high school, even though he remembers Tommy insisting on throwing him a party at his own house with his own food and beer for his 16th. That was less for his birthday and more for Tommy to show off that he knew Steve Harrington.

“You’re okay,” Eddie says.

Not asking. Telling.

Steve believes him.

The next time they kiss is in Eddie’s van, not even ten minutes later, after Eddie asks Steve where he wants to go for a birthday dinner, his treat.

“Benny’s?” Steve asks.

“You sure? Just the diner?”

Steve nods. “My parents are gonna drag me to some five star restaurant next week where the only decent food will be the dessert they don’t bring enough of. I want greasy shitty food and a milkshake.”

Eddie kisses him a third time and puts the van in reverse.

They’re both sweaty from dancing, and neither of them should technically be out this late on a school night, but Steve’s not alone.

It’s his birthday, he got to dance, and he’s not alone.

[starry-eyed-psychopomp]

I mean I actually do read more than just danmei. I only started reading danmei within the past year and have been consuming queer fantasy religiously for years now. I was an English Major. I work in a bookstore. This post was very much informed by my experience reading a shitload of queer fantasy. Lowkey a little offended by the implication that this opinion comes from just not reading enough. That’s kind of a rude assumption to make? Anyway, I’ll elaborate on my feelings, because I have a lot of Thoughts on the topic and I like to yap.

I do think a lot of people in the danmei community could stand to read more genres and generally diversify their shelves (heavy on DIVERSIFY), and I’m sure that was the point you were making, but that’s not really what I was talking about? Like my point wasn’t “Western books Bad, that’s why I only read danmei,” it was “I want to see This in MORE books!” Does that make sense?

This is my opinion of course, but when I’ve read Western fantasy books with queer romance, I often either felt like authors have to choose to either prioritize the romance or the fantasy. It’s either all romance with little high-stakes angst and worldbuilding (you don’t see enough characters getting brutally stabbed and their love interests wailing over their body in Western romantasy and THAT’S A SHAME), or all fantasy politics interspersed with enemies-to-lovers ~yearning~ and ~sexual tension~ every hundred or so pages (and it takes a good writer to keep my attention through all that). Romantasy doesn’t have enough angst and gore, fantasy with a romantic subplot doesn’t have enough kissing and cuddling. So far, most of the danmei I’ve read is able to strike that balance.

And not to mention that romantasy usually comes in the form of standalone books. It’s a lot harder to do high-stakes worldbuilding with those limitations. Or it’ll be technically a series, but every book follows a different couple in the same world, so you don’t get much time to spend with a single pairing. In danmei, it’s a lot more common to see five, eight, thirteen book-long series with lots of adaptations and additional content, which is generally just more engaging. And it’s all centered around a romance! A queer romance, at that!!

I’m familiar with both your recommendations, though I personally haven’t picked up Godkiller. Funnily enough though, A Marvellous Light was actually one of the Western queer romantasy books I was thinking about when I wrote this post, because as you said, it’s very popular, and I personally didn’t like it. The worldbuilding was too…generically British for my specific tastes, and overall I found it pretty boring. A lot of hanging out and fucking in mansions on the English countryside, not enough stabbing and bleeding out and dying in front of your love interest to keep me interested. OBVIOUSLY THIS IS JUST MY PERSONAL OPINION! Read what you want. Regency romance is a thing people like and that’s chill. But that’s something that I really like in romance that danmei is just more likely to deliver. So as an example of a Western book that embodies the traits I was talking about in my original post? Not really.

Like I wasn't just talking about books that happen to have gay people and body horror. If that were the case I'd never have picked up another book after reading The Locked Tomb series, because there's no topping perfection. I elaborated a bit more in my tags, which I recognize wouldn't be kept in a reblog, but I meant it more in the sense of an intersection between the two? The intersection between romance and body horror that I was specifically talking about involves like. Melodrama. The agony of the romance is so intense it must be expressed with blood, and that physical, gory pain then goes on to inspire angst between the romantic leads.

So you get characters cradling their lover’s bloody body; holding onto their corpse for years, unable to accept their death; being forced to watch them be stabbed over and over again; mourning for years, devoted to them and only them; etc etc, and any number of new ways authors conceive to torment us. And all the while, the characters are still in proximity to each other. They flirt, they hold hands, they kiss, they cuddle, they get protective of each other, they keep bridal-carrying each other, and on and on.

There’s a level of physical intimacy that goes beyond just sexual tension and an eventual climactic kiss, and danmei authors seem to understand that it won’t detract from the intense violence that also exists in their stories. The gore and violence and body horror goes hand in hand with the romance, it’s not just tangential to it. Intense emotion that both drives the plot and brings a kind of cathartic pain to the audience, who remain secure in the knowledge that it will still work out in the end. Like Aristotelian tragedy for people who get a bit too emotionally attached to fictional characters.

And like, there are Western books that I think danmei fans would enjoy. They don't always hit all the marks I was talking about, but they exist. Danmei fans tend to really like Dark Rise by C.S. Pacat, for instance. A Strange and Stubborn Endurance by Foz Meadows and Winter’s Orbit by Everina Maxwell are fantasy/sci-fi romances with higher stakes and more complex worldbuilding. On the f/f and baihe side of things, She Who Became the Sun by Shelley Parker-Chan and the Jasmine Throne by Tasha Suri are political fantasies with dense worldbuilding, but the romances are prominent enough, and they’re really good. And though it's not for everyone, I'll always preach the good word of Gideon the Ninth, which has tons of agonizing homoerotic angst that scratches a particular itch in my brain. I wouldn’t say any of these fit exactly the bill of what I’m going for (Dark Rise probably comes closest, though Gideon the Ninth would beat it if I thought griddlehark was ever gonna kiss for real) but not all danmei fits my specific standards either, so…¯\_(ツ)_/¯

But yeah. Like obviously there are fantastic books that aren’t danmei, but danmei has certain conventions and tropes that I feel we don’t often get from Western media. For some reason, our media is just…weirdly averse to sincerity and melodrama. Too much romance is considered trite and has no place in, like, a gritty war story. There are exceptions, but it is a trend in our culture that I find disappointing. And it’s a problem Chinese media like danmei doesn’t seem to have as much.

GOD I wish more Western books would take cues from danmei for how to write fantasy romance, danmei is like the only genre I’ve encountered that understands my ideal ratio of fluffy romance to body horror

[badkitty3000]

One Bed

Five Hargreeves x Female Reader, One-shot, 7.4k words, request

Summary: You are the lead singer in Lila's band, touring with the other Hargreeves and spending nights in run-down roadside motels. One night you and Five are forced to share a room... and you guessed it... there was only one bed!

A/N: @voteforevilthoughts this one's for you, babe! 😽

Warnings: Smut, explicit sex, oral sex (giving and receiving)

One Bed

The tour seemed to be going ok. It wasn’t the greatest thing in the world, having to share a shitty bus with six other people while you drove from the venues to an equally shitty motel night after night. But, hey, this is what you wanted and you were finally getting to show off your amazing vocal talents. Your bandmates were cool for the most part. Lila was fucking nuts, but you liked her, and you thought she and Diego made a cute pair. Viktor was a talented musician and easy to talk to. 

You were also traveling with the other Hargreeves siblings. Allison was the band manager and was the one that booked all of the gigs and made sure everyone got paid accordingly. If anyone tried to stiff them, she rumored them into paying what they were owed, and then some. Luther was basically a roadie, helping to carry amps and other heavy equipment. He also served as security if the crowd started getting a little too rowdy. Klaus tagged along, mostly for the fun of it, and because he liked listening to the band play. He also drove the bus and usually picked the motels for the night, which was why they were usually sketchy at best.

Then there was Number Five.

You weren’t really sure why Five was there, other than to make everyone’s life less enjoyable. Mostly he just scowled and made snarky remarks, and sometimes took over driving when Klaus got too tired. On those occasions, no one was allowed to stop for bathroom breaks or detours, because he was “making good time”. Although you noticed he had no problem stopping to see the World’s Largest Spatula that took you twenty minutes out of your way.

The band was technically Lila’s, even though she was the drummer. The Prime 8’s was a punk band and hadn’t really made it big yet, but you were hoping that since you signed on you could change that. 

Back in Lila’s Commission days, and when The Handler was training her to use her own powers, she would use the Infinite Switchboard to search for other superpowered kids to try and mimic. Her mother would bring her within the vicinity of another child’s powers so she could learn how to use her own. When Lila had found you, she saw that you were also a little off-kilter and liked loud, punk music. You wore short skirts with black boots and dyed your hair whatever color you were feeling at that moment. As a teenager, you rebelled against your parents and got several tattoos and piercings in various places that they wouldn’t find. 

Lila was drawn to your fun personality and you and she became friends and kept in touch. When the last lead singer had quit to go off with another band, Lila immediately contacted you. As it so happened, you had been looking for a band to join, so it worked out perfectly. Plus, you would be amongst others that had powers, so you wouldn’t have to feel weird being the odd man out.

Your power was temperature manipulation. Growing up, you had never thought of it as a particularly useful power, but over the years you had come to appreciate it. And it always came in handy on super hot days or freezing cold ones. Your body was always the perfect temperature.

*********************************

“Move your feet,” Five demanded in that ultra-superior tone of his.

He was standing in the aisle of the bus, glaring down at you in the seat that you had just plopped into. You were headed to another crappy roadside motel for the night, after finishing a show, and you were exhausted. Your feet were resting on the seat next to yours so that you could sprawl out and maybe take a nap.

“Why should I move?” you asked in annoyance. “There’s like six other seats to choose from.”

“Correct. There are six other seats you can choose to sit in.”

“What is your problem?”

“My problem is that your feet are in my seat. That’s where I was sitting on the way to the venue and now I would like my seat back.”

“Five!” you cried, bunching your hands into fists and hitting your thighs with them in a tiny temper tantrum. “Is it possible for you to not be a total dick all the time?”

Five paused, as if he were considering the question. “Feet. Off.”

You made a loud growling noise, but ended up moving your feet and letting him sit down. You knew he wasn’t going to let it drop, so you might as well just give in. You huffed quietly and crossed your arms over your chest, leaning against the cold window. To make it a little more comfortable to rest your head on, you placed your palm to the glass and warmed it a few degrees. 

“Everybody good?” Klaus yelled back from the driver’s seat.

There was a chorus of tired-sounding responses and Klaus pulled out onto the highway. It was dark out and the bus interior lights were dimmed. Next to you, Five crossed one leg over the other, his knee brushing against your bare thigh that was exposed under your skirt. You felt a little shiver as the fine wool of his pants met your smooth skin. If Five noticed, he pretended not to. Instead he took a sip of the coffee he had and then leaned his head back against the headrest, closing his eyes.

You took the opportunity to study his face while he wasn’t looking. You were pretty sure the guy didn’t have one soft curve anywhere on his body. He was all sharp angles; chiseled like a Greek statue and just as beautiful. 

You found yourself wondering just what exactly he had going on under those suits he wore all the time. They were definitely tailored to show off his trim physique, but you had never seen him in anything else. You had a feeling he was a lot stronger than he looked. People that carry themselves the way he did knew they had something good. Big dick energy; and Five certainly had that.

As you ruminated on whether or not it was just the energy he had or the real deal, your eyes traveled slowly up his legs and abdomen. Your top teeth caught on your bottom lip as you stared. When your eyes drifted back up to his face again, his eyes were open.

He turned his head just slightly in your direction, a tiny smirk on his face. “Can I help you with something?”

Your face heated up and it had nothing to do with your powers. You quickly looked away. “Not really, no.”

Five picked his head up from the back of the seat, clearly amused that he caught you checking him out. “Want me to stand up, honey? Give you the full view?”

Your cheeks burned even hotter. He could have spared you the embarrassment and pretended not to have noticed. But no. He had to be a giant asshole about it.

“Fuck off,” you spat out.

Five just gave you that dickish grin of his and settled back into his seat, uncrossing his legs. He spread them just enough for his knee to touch yours again. The super smug look on his face had you opening your mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

Since you were at a loss for words, you retaliated by grabbing his coffee cup out of his hands. 

“Hey!” he yelled.

You said nothing, just stared him in the eyes as your hand that held the coffee turned a bright white and small ice crystals formed on the outside of the cup. When you were satisfied that it had been long enough, you handed it back to Five with an overly-sweet smile.

He snatched it from your hand and removed the top, peering inside. As suspected, it had been transformed into a solid lump of black ice.

“Enjoy that, honey,” you cooed, before turning back to the window with a satisfied smile.

“Fuck,” you heard Five grumble under his breath before tossing the entire thing into the trash can that was sitting a few feet away. You smiled even bigger and closed your eyes.

The Forest View motel had neither a forest nor a view in its vicinity, but it did have cheap rooms and beds that did not appear to contain any vermin, so it was deemed passable for one night’s stay. After checking in, everyone split up into their normal pairs of roommates. Lila and Diego. Luther and Viktor. Klaus and Five. And you and Allison.

After stepping into your room, Allison claimed the bed nearest the door, as always, and turned back the bedspread before climbing in. 

“I’m exhausted,” she breathed out, closing her eyes as her head hit the pillow.

“Don’t you want to shower?” you asked.

She waved a hand in the air. “I’ll do it in the morning. You go ahead.”

You gathered your toiletries and pajamas up and headed to the bathroom. You thought Allison was being a bit dramatic considering she wasn’t the one that had been dancing and wailing at the top of her lungs for two hours, but whatever. A nice hot shower was calling your name.

As you turned the water on and let it run for a while, you brushed your teeth and washed your face. While you were mid-way through flossing, you started to hear voices drifting through the paper-thin walls between your room and the next one. The voices were muffled, and some of the words were cut off, but you could still make out most of what they were saying. You could tell that it was Klaus and Five.

“I saw you snuggled up with… the bus,” Klaus said.

“Was NOT snuggled… wouldn’t move her stupid feet!” Five argued.

“Uh huh… that’s what it looked like.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m just saying… the way you look at her.”

“And how do I look at her?”

“Like you… starving… haven’t… ten years… Las Vegas buffet.”

You heard incoherent grumblings from Five. “ … an idiot!”

“I’m not blind, Fivey. Admit… she’s cute.”

More angry muttering was heard and you could picture Five over there, all tense and wound tight.

“I can tell by… face… you do,” Klaus said with a laugh.

“So what if I do? … means nothing.”

“Make a move. You… want to.”

“Klaus… shut… fuck up.”

“Ok, but… saying… I see her… you too. It’s… obvious… crush on you.”

“Drop it.”

After that, you didn’t hear anymore, but you stood there with a piece of dental floss hanging out of your mouth while you stared wide-eyed at the wall in front of you.

Klaus thinks I have a crush on Five? And Five thinks I’m cute?

As you got into the luke-warm shower that you warmed up a couple of degrees with your powers, you had a lot to think about. Did you have a crush on Five? He was a no-fun asshole, but he was actually pretty funny with his sarcastic comments and dry wit. And he was obviously very smart. He also made you feel weird little fluttery sensations in your stomach when he looked at you. You shook your head as you rinsed the shampoo out of your hair. You must be crazy.

******************************

The next day, you kept thinking back on the conversation you had heard the night before. Since then, you were much more observant of Five’s actions around you. While you were on stage, blasting out song after song and dancing around like a maniac, you caught him watching you. 

Maybe he had always watched you while you sang, but you had never noticed. Now you could see that those deep green eyes of his looked you over like he was studying you. Like you were a wild creature he was observing for his scientific research. When you jumped up and down, fluttering your short skirt and giving the audience a tiny glimpse of your red panties underneath, you saw a flicker of a smile on his face.

Interesting. So the old man has a pulse after all. 

After the show, instead of getting on the bus with everyone, Allison went her separate way. Claire had a volleyball tournament the next day and she didn’t want to miss it. She said she would catch up with everyone next week. With Allison gone, you realized that made your little traveling group an odd number. You wondered how that was going to work once you got to the motel. You got excited thinking you may be getting your own room.

When you arrived, Five blinked off the bus while you and the others filed out and joined him, Klaus headed off in the direction of the office to check in and get the keys. Luther started unloading the bags.

After a minute, Klaus returned, holding up the room keys and passing them out. “Here you go,” he said as he dangled a key over your waiting hand. “By the way, I should mention, since there was an opportunity for someone to get their own room, I volunteered.”

“What?” you cried. “Klaus, that’s not fair! I’m the only girl here!”

“Sorry, babe, but you snooze you lose. You should have thought of that earlier and put in your request. I already invited a guest over and I need the solo arrangements, if you know what I mean.”

You put your hands on your hips. “So I have to share a room just because you want to hook up with someone?”

“Uh… yeah,” he said, as if that was the most obvious answer in the world.

“Great,” you murmured, looking around at the rest. “Ok, well who am I with then?”

“Not us,” Lila said as she pulled Diego close to her by his belt loop. “Mommy and Daddy need some alone time.”

“Sorry,” Viktor said. “But Luther takes up an entire double bed on his own and I have a major aversion to sleeping with anyone next to me.” He looked at you guiltily. “It’s not you, it’s me.”

You realized with absolute horror that meant only one person was left. You turned to Five with wide eyes as the realization hit him at the same time.

“Shit,” you both said in unison.

As the rest of the group walked away to their respective rooms, giggling to themselves, you and Five regarded one another.

You sighed. “Well, come on. Let’s get this over with.”

Five picked up his bag off the ground and started following you towards the room you had been assigned. “You better not snore. I’ve been known to strangle a person in their sleep for less.”

“I do not snore,” you said, offended, as you unlocked the door.

When you stepped inside, you stopped in your tracks. Five followed behind you, almost plowing right into you before he saw what you saw. There was only one bed.

“Oh fuck no,” he said with a groan, dropping his bag heavily on the floor.

You let out a loud, disbelieving cackle. “This is a joke right? Something Klaus set up? This can’t be real.”

Five ran a hand through his hair and then spun slowly around, surveying the tiny room as if another bed were going to spontaneously appear. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he breathed out.

You and he stared at one another for several seconds, neither of you knowing what to say or do, until Five suddenly disappeared without a word, leaving you alone in the quiet of the crappy room.

******************************

Five’s first stop was Klaus’s room, which was right next door. He banged on the door with his fist. “Klaus! Open up!”

“Who is it?” came a sweet, sing-songy voice from inside.

“You know damn well who it is! Open up!” Five yelled through the door.

“No turn down service tonight, thank you! But a bottle of sparkling would be lovely,” Klaus called back.

Five blinked inside, surprising Klaus as he lounged on his back on one of the two beds in the room. A cigarette hung casually out of the corner of his mouth as he smirked at his brother.

“Oh, hey Fivey… something wrong?”

“Klaus I’m going to…. “ he started, balling up his fists in a rage. “Did you do this on purpose?”

“Do what?” Klaus asked with feigned innocence.

“You know fucking what! Now let me stay in here with you so she can have the other room.”

“No can do, Fiverino… I got some company headed over as we speak. And while I don’t really object to you being here, I doubt you’re going to want to bear witness to all the freaky shit that’s about to go down. I mean… unless you are?”

“God Klaus… can you stop being such a slut for five fucking seconds?”

“No. No, not really.”

“Then switch rooms with us at least! There’s only one bed over there.”

Klaus bolted upright in the bed with a giant, shit-eating grin on his face. “What do you mean there’s only one bed?”

Five sighed, barely restraining the urge to strangle his brother. “I mean there’s only one… “ He held up his index finger in the air for emphasis. “ONE… fucking bed!”

Klaus started to laugh obnoxiously and he clapped his hands together. “Oh holy shit, I had no idea about the bed! This worked out even better than I thought!”

Five leaned in dangerously close and Klaus realized what he let slip out. “What was that?” Five ground out between tightly clenched teeth.

Klaus giggled nervously and gingerly pushed Five out of his personal bubble with a single finger to the middle of his chest. “Nothing.”

“Klaus… I swear to god, you better switch rooms right now or… “

“Or what? Hmmm, Fivey? You going to go all full psycho mode and slash me to bits? Leave my corpse here to bleed into the cheap carpet and stink up the place worse than it is?” Klaus shook his head sadly. “Not very nice to the poor cleaning woman that will surely find me.”

“You’ll be back again before anyone will find you dead,” Five spat out.

Klaus took a drag off his cigarette and settled back against the headboard again, putting his hands behind his head. “Well then, looks like either way I’m not leaving this room.”

Five’s mouth dropped open but no words came out. Instead, he made a desperate, hilariously loud growling noise of immense frustration before blinking away, leaving Klaus chuckling quietly and congratulating himself on a job well done.

Five’s portal opened in the motel office, surprising a very depressed-looking desk clerk that had been scrolling through his phone for job openings in the area. The clerk screamed as Five appeared directly in front of the desk, eyes blazing with anger.

“I need… “ Five breathed out, his words measured and slow. “A new… room.”

The clerk stared up at him, blinking in confusion, until Five slammed the palm of his hand flat on the desk. “Now!”

“I… I’m sorry… we’re all full,” the clerk stuttered.

Five closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He tried again, this time attempting a cordial smile. Unfortunately all that accomplished was to make him appear even more deadly and deranged.

“I have no doubt that this lovely establishment is just packed full with eager guests at the moment. After all, it is the prime season for shitty roadside motels that haven’t seen a remodel since the Eisenhower administration. However, I really REALLY need a new room. Pronto.”

The clerk slid his chair back a few inches, his eyes wide. “Really, I’m not kidding. We had a pipe burst a few weeks back and half the rooms were flooded. The only ones we have are the ones you and your party are staying in.”

Five glanced down on the desk, noticing the letter opener that was lying conveniently unattended. The satisfactory image of the clerk gasping for breath as blood gurgled out of his mouth after Five plunged the opener into the side of his neck surfaced for a moment, but then disappeared. Just like with Klaus, the aftermath would be too messy.

“Fine,” Five hissed angrily. He was just about to blink off to his room again when he stopped and turned to the clerk, stabbing a finger in the air towards him. “Just so you know, I will be leaving a scathing review online.” Then he was gone in a flash of blue.

You were sitting on the edge of the bed when he materialized again, breathing fast and hard and looking like a crazy man. He tried to smooth his hair down and straighten his tie in an attempt to look pulled together. It wasn’t convincing.

“So,” he began. “It looks like there are no other rooms and Klaus is being a giant dickhead, so I think we are stuck here.”

“Ok… well, really it’s–”

“It’s alright. I can sleep on the floor, it’s no big deal.”

You and he both looked at the faded, thin carpeting under your feet. The pea-green color was spotted with various shades of brown stains. In the middle was a large, suspiciously dark red splotch.

“Five… you’re not going to sleep on the floor –”

“Or the bathtub!” he interjected, suddenly blinking into the bathroom. He came back almost immediately. “Ok, so there appears to be a bit of a mold problem in the bathroom. But that’s alright, I’ll just sleep on the bus,” he prattled on, reaching down to grab his bag off the floor.

“The bus has no heat. You’ll freeze to death.”

“Ok…” Five began again, searching the room frantically as if he was considering crawling into the ducts and sleeping in there.

“Five! Will you calm down for two seconds? It’s not THAT big of a deal!”

Five stared at you, the look on his face clearly pained. “It’s kind of a big deal.”

You sighed heavily. “We are both adults. I think we can handle sleeping next to one another for one night.”

There was a long pause as Five took this in. He finally dropped his bag again and ran a hand through his hair for the fiftieth time. “Yeah… ok, you’re right. I can handle it if you can.”

You nodded. “I can handle it just fine.” A grin crept slowly over your face. “You’re not that irresistible you know.”

Five rolled his eyes, but then he smiled. “Yeah well, neither are you.”

You laughed. “Ok, it’s settled. But I need to take a shower because I was really working up a sweat on the stage earlier, so do you mind if I go first?”

“Not at all,” Five said, gesturing to the bathroom. “Take your time. I’ll just be here, enjoying our luxury accommodations.” He picked up his bag and threw it on the bed. Then he unzipped it, pulling out a half-full bottle of whiskey. “And maybe some of this. Care for one?”

“Absolutely!”

He blinked away, returning with two cellophane-wrapped plastic cups from the bathroom. He unwrapped them and poured the whiskey into each one. He handed you one and kept the other for himself. 

You held your cup out in a toast. “Here’s to shitty motels with only one bed!”

“To only one bed. Cheers,” Five said with a small smirk before taking a sip.

You brought the cup of whiskey into the shower with you and you sipped it slowly while the hot water ran over your body. The booze was starting to make your brain a little loopy and you smiled to yourself thinking about Five sitting out there, just mere feet away, while you were naked and wet in there. 

He probably wouldn’t even know what to do with a naked woman, you thought to yourself. But then again… he said he knows how to do everything.

When you stepped out of the shower, grabbing one of the flimsy pieces of fabric they considered towels, you wrapped it around you. You left your hair wet, but you brushed it out so it wasn’t matted together. Then you noticed the door to the bathroom was slightly ajar.

************************

Five didn’t mean to look. Not really. It wasn’t his fault that the cheap ass bathroom door hadn’t latched right. And it certainly wasn’t his fault that the bed he was lying on faced directly into said bathroom. It was, maybe, his fault for not looking away.

The shower curtain offered some privacy, but he could still see your silhouette as you tipped your head back to wash your hair, stretching your arms up and pushing out your chest as if you knew he was watching. Five felt bad for thinking such things but not that bad. He was stoic but he wasn’t dead.

As he laid there, propped up against the headboard, leisurely drinking his precious whiskey, he enjoyed the little show you were unknowingly giving him. He still had on his full suit, so he shed his jacket and vest. He pulled off his tie. He would have loved to strip out of his pants, too, but he wouldn’t dare with you around. Plus it might be a little too obvious how he felt about your situation if he didn’t have his tailored pants covering up his growing hard-on.

****************************

If you hadn’t been tipsy already, you probably wouldn’t have done it. But at that moment the urge was just too strong. You let the towel drop from your body onto the floor.

You made a show of running your fingers through your hair and dropping your head back seductively. When you bent over to get your underwear and pajamas, you made sure to move extra slowly and bent over so your ass faced the door. You pulled your panties on slowly. Then you slipped your t-shirt over your head, pulling it down so that it stopped half way down your thighs. You had shorts that went with it, but you kicked those to the side. You opened the door and stepped out in a cloud of steam.

******************************

You had to have been doing it on purpose, Five was certain of it. In the shower, he knew you hadn’t realized the door was ajar. But now… fuck… now, you absolutely knew. And you were killing him.

When you emerged, he almost choked on the whiskey and he coughed, sputtering and stammering.

“Damn it… ,” he said in between wheezes. “Went down… the wrong pipe,” he coughed out.

You laughed, walking over to the bed and standing in front of him, wearing just your white Prime-8’s t-shirt, with your wet hair dripping onto the front.

“You ok?”

Five nodded, still letting out a few lingering coughs. “Yeah, all good.”

“Your turn,” you said with a smile as you walked to the other side of the bed and slid under the covers. Five’s eyes followed your every move.

Five spent a long time in the shower, drinking his whiskey, and trying to get his head on straight. He was trying to prolong the time before he would be forced to crawl into that bed next to you. The fact that you had decided to torture him by only wearing a t-shirt and panties was driving him crazy. Did you want him to not be able to sleep tonight? It was beginning to look that way. 

Five thought about jerking himself off while in the shower, just to get things a little more under control and to try and prevent any embarrassing mishaps in bed. But the thought of beating off while you were just a few feet away in the other room was even more humiliating. 

He had admitted to Klaus that he thought you were cute, which was true. He liked your funky tattoos and crazy colored hair. He liked how confident you were on stage and the sound of your voice. And when he had caught a glimpse of the little silver ball that pierced through the middle of your tongue, he thought about what that would feel like if you dragged it over his dick.

But he didn’t need to be acting on any of these feelings. It wasn’t a good idea to get involved with someone you had to spend that much time with. And he also didn’t need his annoying siblings inserting themselves into his love life, which they undoubtedly would do. Klaus already was.

“Stupid Klaus,” Five muttered angrily before shutting off the water. 

He dried off before pulling on a pair of clean black boxer briefs. He was about to put on a pair of pants, too, but then decided to give you a taste of your own medicine. Five had already caught you staring at his body the other day, and you weren’t the only one that could be a tease.

Back in the room, you tried your best to pretend to be asleep. But when Five came waltzing over wearing nothing but his underwear, your eyes refused to close. His hair was still damp and hanging over his forehead. His chest and stomach were hard, with toned shoulders and biceps that rippled with each movement. He looked like a goddamn underwear model.

“You’re wearing that?” you asked, partly horrified.

Five looked down at himself, as if he hadn’t even considered there to be anything out of the usual. “What’s wrong?”

You cleared your throat and then shrugged, snuggling down deeper into the covers and closing your eyes with indifference. “Nothing. Just figured you might be cold, that’s all. It’s drafty in here.”

“I’ll be fine,” he answered. “But thank you for your concern.”

After that, he shut off the light and crawled into bed next to you. You felt his weight on the mattress and the heat from his body radiating outwards. You shifted around on your side, suddenly not able to get comfortable. He smelled so good it wasn’t fair. You flipped over so that your butt was facing him, which wasn’t much better. But at least you didn’t have to look at his perfect profile silhouetted in the moonlight.

He made no move to get closer to you, and neither did you. It was silent except for the sound of your breathing. You both laid awake, blinking into the darkness, before finally falling asleep.

It was the middle of the night when you both woke up again. The room was noticeably colder and while your body temperature had regulated itself even in your sleep, you felt Five shivering next to you. You sat up in bed, looking around. The internal temperature had dropped so low you could already see your breath in a faint cloud in front of you.

You looked over at Five, who was huddled under the covers and obviously freezing.

“The heat is out,” you said in his direction.

“Yeah, no shit,” he said angrily through chattering teeth. “I already checked, the radiator died. Probably because it was built sometime in the late 1800s.”

You laughed. “Bet you wish you had some actual clothes on now, huh?”

Five grumbled. “Shut up. Go back to sleep.”

You huffed at his irritability and closed your eyes to try and fall back asleep. The fact that Five was lying a foot away from you, practically naked, and shivering so hard you could hear his teeth rattling together made it a little hard. After a few minutes you let out a loud sigh.

“Five?”

“What?” he snapped.

“I can help you, you know. I can warm you up.”

There was a full ten seconds of silence. “No thank you,” he answered, a little softer than before.

“God you are the most stubborn person I have ever met!” you exclaimed. “Believe it or not, I’m not trying to hit on you. I’m just trying to be nice so that you won’t freeze to death.”

As Five laid there in silence for another minute, you waited. Finally, you heard him exhale slowly through his nose. 

“Fine,” he said.

“Good. Now give me your hand,” you told him.

Five slid the hand closest to you over the mattress and you grasped it in yours. The red light from your powers created a soft glow from under the covers.

“How’s that?” you asked.

“Good. Thanks.”

“I know it’s not just your hands, though. If you want… “ you hesitated. “I can warm up the rest of your body.”

Five audibly swallowed. “Uh… I’m not sure… “

You made a huffing noise again. “You are such a baby!” Without asking again, you wiggled your way over to his side and hugged him around his chest. Then you threw a leg over his thighs, trapping him in a bear hug. Your entire body gave off a faint red glow as you worked on warming him up.

As your powers started to take their effect and Five stopped shivering, you rested your head on his shoulder. His intoxicating scent was invading your senses and you closed your eyes. It wasn’t long before you were both breathing just a little heavier, your chests rising and falling faster. Five placed his hand over the top of yours, resting on his stomach. 

“I think I’m good now,” he whispered.

You didn’t say anything at first, but you let your powers die down. Without even thinking about it, you tucked your face into the crook of his neck, brushing your lips and nose against him.

“Ok,” you purred into his warm skin.

Five made a quiet moaning noise, and when you started to pull away his hand tightened on yours. 

“Wait,” he said. “I need you to help with one more thing.”

Your voice was shaky as it came out. “What’s that?”

Five slowly moved your hand down his hard abdomen and over his boxers until he reached the problem he needed help with. He pressed your hand firmly against the prominent bulge between his legs. “This,” he said, and his voice cracked.

“Oh shit, Five,” you moaned. “You didn’t have to wait so long.”

The following minutes were a dizzying blurr of mouths colliding and teeth gnashing; limbs intertwined and hands desperately searching; hearts racing and lungs gasping. You had climbed on top of him, straddling his waist and grinding down onto his hardened cock. He had already ripped your shirt off and he grabbed roughly at your breasts. You leaned down to kiss him again, and his tongue flicked across the silver stud in yours.

Five groaned as the tip of his tongue explored the cool metal. “I’ve been dying to get a feel of this tongue ring,” he told you breathlessly.

“Yeah?” you questioned, as you moved to his jaw and neck, and then his collarbone.

“Yes.” He pulled your hair, making you whine. “I want to see what you can do with it.”

You pulled back, looking down on him with a sexy grin before clicking the stud against your teeth. “How about I show you?”

“I won’t object to that,” Five breathed out as you started to slither down his body.

When you were kneeling between his legs, you pulled the waistband of his underwear down, revealing the hard cock you had been grinding against. It was perfect, just like the rest of his body, with smooth taut skin and long veins that ran from the girthy base to the suckable head. You made a little moan of approval as you removed his boxers the rest of the way.

Five sucked in a loud, sharp breath when the flat of your tongue met the underside of his dick. His hips jerked up as he let out a low moan. You worked your tongue up and down the shaft, running the stud along the vein and up to the tip, where you licked it slowly and traced it in a circle with the metal ball. 

“Holy… ff–ffuuuuck,” Five groaned, throwing an arm over his face.

“Do you like it?” you asked coyly, knowing full well what the answer was.

Five was panting. “Fuck yes… yes, I really like it… keep going… please.”

You continued sucking and lapping at his dick, drawing patterns over it with your tongue ring and making him whine and hiss through his teeth. You tapped it against the underside of the swollen and leaking head, feeling Five’s muscles tighten in his thighs as he tried to contain himself. When you took him completely into your mouth and you slid your hot mouth over him a few times, making sure the stud was in play, he grabbed your hair in his fist.

“Stop,” he ground out, trying not to sound as desperate as he was. “You have to stop.”

Knowing that meant he was about two seconds away from blowing his load down your throat, you relented and pulled away. You looked up at him as you knelt between his legs, his wet shaft in your hand, and your eyelashes fluttering innocently.

“Fuck,” he growled, his jaw clenched tight. “Take those panties off.” You did as he said and threw your underwear onto the floor. “Sit on my face,” he told you in between heaving breaths.

Just hearing him say that had the wetness pouring out of you and you maneuvered your way up until your thighs were on either side of his head. He grabbed your ass with both hands and immediately went to work.

You had never received oral sex quite like this before. Five ate you out ravenously, like he couldn’t get enough. He was rough and sloppy and relentless, and you had to hold onto the top of the dusty headboard just to keep your balance.

“Oh my god!” you cried out, automatically starting to rock your hips against his face. “Shhiiitttt… Five!”

Five didn’t slow down or change his tactic; he just dug his fingers harder into your ass cheeks and shoved his tongue inside you, drinking up the river that was gushing out of you. The light scruff on his chin and upper lip scratched against your thighs and clit, creating even more friction to drive you insane. 

His mouth was warm and wet as it engulfed your entire pussy, sucking and licking at all of your most sensitive parts. You were riding his face, even as he tried to keep you in line by holding you still. But you couldn’t help it, you just wanted more.

“Yes yes… please!” you screamed as you started to feel the beginnings of an orgasm building.

In one blinding blue flash, you found yourself kneeling over nothing, holding onto the headboard as you panted heavily.

“What the hell–”

Five grabbed you from behind, his hands on your tits and his hard cock sliding between your legs as he knelt behind you. His warm mouth was on your neck and you tipped your head back against his shoulder.

“I’m going to fuck you,” he whispered harshly near your ear as he squeezed your breasts harder.

It wasn’t a question, but you nodded anyway. “Yes… do it.”

You pushed your backside out a little to allow him better access and Five guided the head of his cock inside of you with his hand. He didn’t push it all of the way in, instead he stopped and waited.

“Does that feel ok?” he asked gently as he kissed your shoulder.

“Feels so good,” you moaned. “Keep going.”

He filled you up slowly until he was completely buried inside you. He rested his forehead on your shoulder with a long groan. “God… you feel even better than I imagined.”

With a breathy laugh, you pushed your hips backwards. “So you’ve been imagining this?”

Five grasped your hips tightly and slammed his dick harder and deeper with a forceful thrust. He smiled when you cried out. “This and a lot more.”

“Tell me,” you whimpered as he continued to fuck you hard from behind.

“I imagined fucking you in those short little skirts you wear,” he groaned. “Fucking you on the bus with the lights out and you riding my cock.” His voice came out in clipped grunts as he railed into you. “Fucking you on stage in front of everyone.”

“Oh fuck… Five.” You gasped in a lungful of air while your entire body was shoved back and forth and the headboard rhythmically slammed against the wall. “I would let you.”

“You’d let me fuck you in front of hundreds of people?”

You nodded desperately, trying to talk through moans and whines. “I want everyone to see what they’re missing out on.”

Five chuckled softly before suddenly pulling out. Before you could ask him why, he was flipping you onto your back and crawling on top of you. You automatically opened your legs for him and he slipped his entire length inside again. Five gazed down on you, a small smile on his lips. 

“On second thought,” he said before lowering himself to kiss you. “I don’t think I want to share.”

With your legs wrapped tightly around him, he continued to kiss you, deep and long, swirling his tongue around yours. His pace started to quicken and your nails dug into the muscles of his back. Five brought his hand up to the side of your face, sliding his thumb into your mouth and onto the flat of your tongue. You closed your lips around it.

After a few more fast and hard pumps, you felt your climax come on strong and sudden. You clamped down around him as your body shuddered helplessly. Your tongue ring pressed against his thumb as you made high-pitched mewling noises and shaky sobs.

As soon as Five saw you lose yourself, he followed, stilling against you and groaning low in his chest while his eyes squeezed shut and he held your chin with his hand, his thumb still in your mouth. 

“Ah… fuuuckk,” he breathed out, collapsing onto you and burying his face in the crook of your neck.

He removed his thumb from your mouth as you caught your breath. Your hand came to rest in his hair, raking your fingers slowly through it as he laid against your chest. Neither of you said anything, and after a minute he pulled out and adjusted himself so that he wasn’t lying directly on top of you anymore. You turned to face him and he pulled you in with an arm tightly around your waist. He gave you a lingering kiss and smiled.

You kissed his chest and he hugged you even tighter. “You’re going to crush me,” you said with a laugh.

“I’m cold again, I need you to warm me up.”

“Well, I’m not a glow stick! I don’t work by cracking me in half!”

Five laughed and loosened his hold on you. “Sorry.”

You used your powers to warm both of you up and Five sighed. “I could get used to that.”

“Are you saying you might not mind sharing a bed with me again?”

He tilted your face up by your chin and kissed you softly on the lips. “Honey, if you suck my cock with that magical tongue of yours again, I will sleep anywhere you want me to.”

You hummed quietly and traced the outline of his lips with your fingertip. “I think you’re the one with the magical tongue.”

He kissed you again. “Just my tongue?”

“Maybe some other body parts, as well.”

“That’s what I thought,” he said quietly before rolling you onto your back. He continued kissing you, his hand stroking your hair and face while his body pressed against yours. You could feel him hardening against your thigh.

“Even though this worked in my favor,” Five murmured in between heated kisses. “I’m still going to kill Klaus.”

You nodded before tipping your head back so he could attack your neck. “Oh absolutely. I’m going to freeze all of his underwear and burn all of his socks.”

Five made a growling noise in his throat as he rubbed his dick between your legs. “Yes, do that. Then I’m going to kill him.”

Your laugh was cut short as Five entered you again, his mouth on yours while he thrusted lazily into you. 

Five paused for a moment to look down on you with one eyebrow raised and a crooked smile. “I don’t care if there are a hundred beds or zero beds going forward. You’re sleeping with me from now on.”

He continued his rhythmic, perfect fucking and you laid a hand on the side of his face. “I think I can deal with that.”

[bacchuschucklefuck]

soon it'll be dawn again

transcript under the cut ⏬

page 01

Fig: no way? - you're still up?

Riz: Wh– yes?

Riz: Why'd I not be.

page 02

Fig: I me~~ean - that took.

Fig: whole day.

Riz: Yeah?

Fig: 'm beat.

Riz: you should sleep.

page 03

Fig: nah. my guy's still up

Fig: I wanna hang out.

page 04

Riz: That's really nice.

Fig: Hah! - Nobody ever expects an Archdevil rockstar to be nice.

Riz: … yeah. - 's just budget work tho. (the stuff I'm working on) - I've heard it's boring.

page 05

Fig: yeah, but you do it…

Riz: It keeps things going, right? - Nothing happens if nobody sits down and - does the thing.

Fig: That's right… - though. Yeah.

page 06

Fig: sometimes it's someone else who - doesn't want the same thing to happen.

Riz: … - mm.

page 07

Riz (off screen): …It took me a long time to get that not everyone likes doing what I do. - 's probably because you guys are so nice– - or. - kind.

Riz (off screen): to anyone too, not just. - the people you /love/.

page 08

Riz: that's not how it is elsewhere. - The world's– not. hostile. - but 's not like it's kind.

Riz: So I'm doing as much as I can now… 

page 09

Fig: Hey.

Riz: ?

Fig: Go dig some dirt with me.

page 10

Riz: [blank speech bubble] - oh you meant like - actual dirt. (not incriminating information)

Fig: o yea.

Fig: there's clay in the backyard soil. - sometimes when I'm sun deficient or something I go touch dirt for a bit.

page 11

Fig: here u go

page 12

Riz: uh

Fig: now we make a thing! - 'm pretty good at freehanding a bowl.

Fig: I'll show u

page 13

Fig: just– yep, flatten that out as evenly as u can, then–! - actually ur nails'd be so good at cutting out the strip. [larger than usual space] wait. - wait. wait u can carve patterns with them! we HAVE to try

Riz: uh - What. do I carve?

Fig: anything!!!

page 14

Fig: and– yep just seal the inside uh. seam?

Fig: yep that works - okay time's up! all contestant hands up

Riz: [blank speech bubble] - okay - wh. what's next?

Fig: haha - watch this.

(sound effect text): FWOO—MP

page 15

Riz: WH– DON'T JUST DO THAT???

Fig: Now it's fired!

Riz: THAT WAS NOT SAFE

Fig: (actually it's just dry. if u add water rn it'll dissolve)

Fig: ok catch!

Riz: [blank speech bubble] - careful!!

Fig: dw no need haha

page 16

Riz (thought bubble): oh - it's warm…

Fig: now I want you to throw this.

page 17

Fig: u gotta do it - c'mon

page 18

Riz: wh– - It's like 3AM right now

Fig: oh it's not /fired/ fired it's not gonna make a loud noise

Riz: And then just? leave a pile out here?

Fig: pour water over it & it'll be gone I told u

Riz: but

page 19

Fig (off screen): RIz.

page 20

Fig: I've done all this before.

Fig: Can you trust that at least?

page 21

Riz: no, I– - I do. - I trust you.

page 23

Riz: okay what happens now

(sound effect text): glob

page 24

Fig: we do it again!

page 25

Riz: wh. [larger than usual space] What do you mean. (this clay's too wet also)

Fig: see! you're already learning

Fig: [blank speech bubble] - there are flows that are futile to fight. - The world changes.

Fig: Things change.

page 26

Fig: I've learned my lessons with "forevers". - But - as an artist

Fig: I can give you one thing: - You can always do it again.

page 27

Fig: most of everything depends on the rest of the world, - but this. - making new. - that's yours as long as you want it.

page 28

Fig: So?

page 29

Riz: Yeah. - Yeah! - let's make another one.

[palossssssand]

grief paralysis

[waterfallofspace]

Will you PLEASEEEE make a caretaking audio? I just think it would be so sweet to listen to your take on a sick listener.

I was not entirely sure how to do this, and I don't really love my voice so it was a bit hard to imagine what this should be, but I tried to use the actual voice I use with people irl when they need comfort, mixed with a few of the phrases/pet names I'd normally use, all in all I hope this came off alright?~ is a little less 'listener' though a little more 'partner', scenario type deal, but I hope that's still comforting/good?~

[spotaus]

Okay! This one is less rendered than the other two, but here's some doodles of Tulpa figuring out how to co-exist! (Aka Fresh not taking training seriously while Dream is trying desperately to get his friends to think he's normal.)

When Dream first returns to the Star Sans', he finds himself in a pickle, because he needs Fresh to move his body. Sure, they made a tentative agreement that Dream trusted Fresh not to break, but Dream hadn't been specific enough with the guidelines.

Fresh pilots Dream's body based on the commands from his soul, but more often than not Fresh simply decides not to listen. Sometimes when they're training, Fresh will suddenly make Dream fumble his bow or send an arrow flying way off-target. Dream is always frustrated by this, unaware that Fresh it doing it for his own good and is forcing the guardian to take a break.

Blue was also made aware of Fresh very early on. One day he was passing the kitchen where Dream was cooking and spotted how Fresh's little form was wiggling out of the hole on Dream's skull. Blue made Eye-contact with Fresh, but said nothing since it seemed like Dream was aware and didn't mind. He waited until Dream told him to acknowledge the parasite directly, but suddenly a bunch of Dream's weird actions made sense to him. Blue regularly makes sure to check in on Dream, before abd after he's aware of Fresh, because he knows Dream works himself into the ground.

Dream (eventually) figures out that Fresh was being clumsy for his sake and nearly cries about it (even his mother and the villagers never did that for him, and Blue was the only other person to ever pull him away from training for his own good) so he gets a bit emotional. He feels bad for how angry he used to get at Fresh for doing that, but Fresh never gave him a proper explanation either, so it was a two-way street.

And while Fresh was lienent around Blue and Ink, he never slipped up around Nightmare's gang. Though, he did fight seriously, which to him might look like goofing off, which is completely separate from Dream's fighting style. (For now Dream uses Arrows and his Bow, but I'm thinking Tulpa has a T-Shirt Canon or a Nerf Gun by the time they make-up.)

Ideally Fresh cannot be seen during combat because he actually pilots from around Dream's soul, but sometimes his parasite form expands to support Dream's weak joints and act like a shock-absorber.

[miharuhebinata]

you guys really weren't kidding about how fucking good lake mungo is

[sharffffff]

A betrayal done out of love. It is the worst kind of betrayal one can ever commit, to hurt someone in such a way, to stab them in the back and twist a knife - and not out of hatred, not out of malice, but out of attempt to save them from themselves. Betrayal can be understood when the traitor hates the person they are betraying - whether they hated them the whole time, or have grown resentful of their ways doesn’t matter, for it has become justified in their own eyes through the fact that they can’t stand behind those actions no longer. But betrayal done out of love? One done out of attempt to not let your loved one hurt themself, thus hurting them more than their actions ever could? Such betrayal cannot be forgiven, it cannot be explained, it cannot be justified. And it never works, either, for the spite driving the one who has been betrayed will only make them hurt themself more, rendering the whole thing pointless. Rendering the traitor both devastated through the loss of their friend, and unsuccessful in their plans. Making the rift that is so large, it would take far too long to even begin to repair, requiring time and effort from both parties - and while the traitor might try to fix things, would the betrayed ever be able to trust them again? Would they ever be able to forgive them?

Deep down, Sty knew that this plan would fail. He knew it was a bad idea, he knew it would never work, he knew 4C would hate him for doing it, but he had to try. He just had to try, he had to take the chance to save his fellow pirate from himself, and if he could’ve saved his life even if it cost them their friendship, he would’ve taken that chance. And he did. And he failed. And he failed oh so miserably.

When Gravel suggested trapping 4C, doing everything to keep him safe, protecting him from himself, Sty was hesitant. He felt weird working with his enemy, and he felt weird about this whole plan - he didn’t want 4C dead, but he didn’t want him trapped in a box either. Yes, a nicely decorated box, but an obsidian box nonetheless. But as more time went by, as 4C’s scheduled death began rapidly approaching, Sty’s mind got set on this idea fully. He hated it, he hated the fact that he had to trap his friend in this place, but he felt like he had to do it. There was no other way to protect him. No other way to make sure he would stay alive. And god, Sty just couldn’t lose him. He didn’t know if he could live if 4C was dead. The world just wouldn’t be the same. And so he went through with the plan, despite all the outs 4C tried giving him, despite the fact he knew that 4C knew that he was lying, despite the devastation in 4C’s voice when they approached the trap. Sty knew that his plan was found out long before the slime ended up locked in the room, but he refused to believe it, refused to think that 4C would let him betray his trust like that, refused to accept that his attempt to save him - his betrayal - would be not just found out, but followed through. 

So when 4C got locked away, when he got trapped, when he realized that Sty wasn’t going to admit to the betrayal - Sty heard his voice change, he could’ve sworn he saw a glint of anger in his eyes even through the wall, and gods, he never heard 4C that angry before. Even when their ship was burned, even when they lost everything, the slime was rather calm. Yes, calm in his anger, but calm nonetheless. Now, however? Now Sty could feel the anger, the rage, the hatred in waves even through the obsidian walls, he could feel the tension and disappointment and distrust seeping through the cracks, and, worst of all, he could hear the acid in his voice and know that it was directed at him, at the one who betrayed his trust. The one who promised he would never betray him, the one who 4C trusted and who abused his trust. And the one who couldn’t even go in and see him, because of Gravel blocking the way, because of Gravel telling it was for the best. Sty couldn’t even tell him why he did this, he couldn’t even explain how much he cared about him, he couldn’t explain what his death would do to him. But leaving 4C to be alone instead was almost more of the betrayal than this whole box. 

And when Sty returned, having gathered all his thoughts, all his explanations in a single book, he could feel that it was already too late. When he broke through despite Gravel’s protests, when he gave the book to 4C, when he tried to get him out - he knew 4C’s plans have already changed. He knew 4C was going to die here, not giving Sty a chance to get him out first, not giving him a chance to apologize, not giving him a chance to react - only watch on, in horror, as it was about to happen. Not knowing how, not knowing when, but knowing that the death would happen soon, and leaving Sty to wonder and to dread. And when 4C didn’t even read the book, when 4C refused to even look Sty in the eyes except to let Sty know just how badly he messed up, when Sty saw 4C’s eyes be even deeper, darker black when they usually are, Sty couldn’t help but feel like the worst person in this world. And maybe at the moment, he was. Because he betrayed his closest friend out of love, out of selfishness, out of wish to protect him but in fact to protect himself from being hurt, and it was all for nothing. Because he knew it was always going to end this way.

And when Apokuna came, the harbinger of death, the slayer of those who wish for it, Sty didn’t even try to get in their way. He knew that it would only make things worse, he knew that he already betrayed 4C once - he couldn’t do it again. He couldn’t save him from death if he wanted it so much, and stopping Apo would’ve felt like yet another betrayal. And so he watched. He felt that if he turned away, when 4C wanted him to see it, that if he broke the eye contact the slime was still keeping with him, he would be even more of a traitor. 

It took three strikes. Two slashes and a sword straight through the heart, giving 4C barely any chance to even react. Sty could’ve sworn he saw a shock in 4C’s eyes from how quickly it went - but that couldn’t be it, not with the slime’s confidence in his death. And then Apo left, as quickly as they appeared, leaving Sty all alone in this room before 4C’s body even hit the ground. 

And a second later Sty felt his limbs go into motion, barely able to catch him, while almost falling to the ground himself. The slime was gone. Apo knew what he was doing - death being swift and final, no chance for final words, no chance to say goodbye. Sty felt like he didn’t even deserve to be here, he didn’t even deserve to hold 4C’s body after what he has done, didn’t deserve the chance to cry over his loss. Didn’t deserve a chance to say sorry, even if 4C couldn’t hear him. He betrayed him, and he knew he did, and it hurt, it hurt so much. How could he have done it? What overcame him to do such a thing?

Sty could try to justify his actions for as long as needed, but he knew there was no justification for it. And now, 4C would never even have a chance to hear him say it.

“Our time together on this server has meant everything to me, 4C. I just couldn’t let it end. But it ended anyway, didn’t it? It was always going to end this way, and I messed up. We could’ve spent your final moments doing what you wanted to do, and instead you had to spend them in a box. And for that, I’m sorry, though I don’t expect you to forgive me. Goodbye, my friend.”

Sty’s mouth was so dry he could barely speak, and by the time he finished, his tears had run dry as well. This was all his fault. This day went so horribly wrong, and it was all because of him. And knowing this had felt just oh so horrible. 

Sty carried 4C’s body out by himself - he couldn’t trust anyone else to bury him, but at this point, he didn’t know if he should even trust himself. Dark blue blood had stained his hands and his clothes, but that was the least of his worries, not after the book he found on 4C’s body while preparing to go out of the box. Not after the book that was clearly written days ago, and now stained with blood - but still having readable text. Not after the book that was dedicated to him, not after the book that spoke of how 4C’s biggest fear was Sty’s betrayal. Not after the book that Sty accidentally had proven right. Not after having fulfilled 4C’s biggest fear on this server, not after the betrayal that was so devastating, nobody involved had been left standing. And now Sty had to bury 4C, alone, while not knowing if he even deserved to do it. And god, it hurt.

It hurt so much, knowing that the future was always set in stone. It hurt so much, knowing that it was always going to happen. It hurt so, so fucking much.

[sword-wielding-sapphic]

submissive and beheadable *kneels down at the chopping block and looks up at you so sweetly* x

for the prompt 'quest' in @mortiscausa's March to Camelot

[honks-n-stonks]

oh... I never posted my little CROB dragon oc here did I...?

Originally drew this fella back on April 1st! Admittedly, I'd like to go back and change the design + maybe simplify some parts so I don't die whenever I want to draw them...

I kinda tried to sorta follow along with the designs of the other dragons, but uh. Their horns are a bit too prominent. Ah whatever, it's a lot more fun to just do your own thing sometimes.

Oh, and their name is Koi Dragon Cookie! Maybe. I'm. not good with names!!! I think you can guess a bit of what their backstory is just by the name alone though, ahah.

They look a bit smug here, but I promise they're pretty chill. I think. Their whole story has just been brewing silently in my head.. I have to actually write it out sometime. Whoops!!

[thiriumhound]

i only recently got properly back into dbh recently and i cant lie i used to be really partial to the more father/son connor & hank but looking through your blog and takes and stuff rlly has made me more partial to the platoniconk side of things. 🫡

YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO BITCHES WE GOT ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

JOIN US JOIN US 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

(sorry if that was too much lmfao it's just @iwonderwh0 built this tag from the ground up literally like less than a year ago because it seemed like father-son or ship was an inescapable dichotomy with no room for them to just be literally anything else... im so glad we've affected someone slkdjfsldk 🥺🥺 welcome platoniconk fan)

[figureitoutinthemorning]

Speaking of the robot girl story!!!!

Top row: still unnamed robot girl on the left, Diana (another robot) on the right. Diana is technically older, but was designed to appear younger, and is much more childlike. She was intended to be more of a spy than your typical living weapon — children can get away with things adults can’t.

Bottom row: Abby (the daughter of robot girl’s creator — hasn’t seen her dad in fifteen years. Refuses to answer to the name Abigail. He’s the only one who ever called her that), Abby’s wife Nell, and their son Oliver, who is about eight here (it’s hard to show age on Picrew)!

[toxicrevolver]

Ship Tag Game

Tagged by @loveable-sea-lemon thanks for the tag!!!

Rules: without naming them, post a gif of ten of your favorite ships (any media) and tag as many people as possible to do the same!

Tagging (no pressure): @smushedmuffin @we-survive-endlessly @haahka and anyone else who wants to participate can blame me!!

[scionshtola]

i think the hardest thing for me to do while writing is write a “bad” first draft. i know things can be fixed later but i also need what i write to express the exact thing im trying to convey in the way i want to convey it before i move on