#umbrella academy smut

[badkitty3000]

Strength

Five is finally strong enough to give in to his true feelings and tell you how he feels. You are strong enough to let him.

Five Hargreeves x Reader Smut

The third one shot in this short series, following "Addicted" and "Weak". Contains points of view from both characters.

If you have any more ideas for me, let me know!

My Master List Of Number Five Fanfiction

Strength:

The position of the bed in your room has always annoyed you. For half the year, when the sunlight pours in, it slices right across your face in the most non-gentle way. One minute you’re sleeping soundly and the next you are being slapped awake by a piercing light over your eyes. It doesn’t matter how much you try to cover the window, the sun still fights its way through. Like it has a personal vendetta against your rest.

Today is no different, and you shield your eyes with your hand and blink into the light. It takes you a few seconds to clear your head, but then you remember. The happenings of last night would have felt like a vivid dream if it weren’t for the glaring evidence all around you.

Tangled, wrinkled sheets. Your body aching and throbbing in places it shouldn’t be. The lingering scent of sweat and sex in the air. But of course, the biggest piece of evidence is the empty space next to you. He’s gone.

Not that you were expecting anything less. Yet, for some reason, it still fucking hurts. You would think that you would be used to it by now; maybe even like it. Good company, good sex, no ties. What’s not to like? You’ve had this argument with yourself a thousand times. It never does any good.

You roll onto your back, staring up at the ceiling, and moving out of the direct line of sun. You’re still naked and you can feel the stickiness between your legs. Some sort of concoction of his saliva and cum, probably. You need to shower. But you lie there, staring blankly upwards.

Are you going to cry? Rip the sheets off the bed in a rage-fueled hysteria? Call and leave several consecutive voicemails listing all of the reasons you hate him? Maybe. Or you could just stay here, unmoving and unfeeling. You’re so tired and that seems like the best option. At least for now.

The thing is, it’s not fair for you to hate him. It’s not his fault. He’s never promised you anything he didn’t deliver. He’s never mistreated you or lied to you. He has never been anything except himself this whole time. If you were going to be honest, you’ve brought all of this on yourself. You created this. This fantasy world that has never existed, and will never exist.

What did you think was going to happen? You would finally get him to fall madly in love with you and you’d make some happy little home together, just the two of you? He’d kiss you goodbye in the morning, head out to blast a few unsuspecting fuckers in the face, and then come back in the evening exhausted and missing you? He would sit down and you’d crawl into his lap and lay your head on his chest while he told you about his day?

Yes. That’s exactly what you thought. Pathetic.

You’re not sure how you got like this. You used to be a normal person. You weren’t exactly planning on losing your fucking mind over this guy. During that first night, when you came stumbling into your place, both of you drunk off your asses and already trying to get the other’s clothes off, you certainly hadn’t planned on anything more than a quick fuck. He was hot. You were horny. He bought you a few drinks. You brought him home to fuck him. Not exactly a swoon-worthy meet-cute.

It wasn’t until he had you on your back, naked and panting, that something switched. There was something different about the way he started to kiss you. Something different in his touch as his hands roamed over your body and lit you up from the inside. You weren’t even sure how to describe it.

It was like a longing, or a sadness, or desperation, as he kissed down your neck and chest like he worshiped you. He fucked you hard and rough, but even that was different than anything you’d experienced before. He continued to look you in the eyes, kissing your lips and touching your face.

There was a weird contradiction between the forceful thrusts of his pelvis into yours and the gentleness of his face and hands. Something about that paradox of hard and soft that seemed to be a constant battle inside of himself had you falling apart.

And fuck, did you fall hard.

You wanted to have more of him, to see inside of him, and to give him whatever he needed. But of course, he pulled away the minute you suggested something more than what you were already getting from each other. He had made it very clear from the beginning. He wasn’t going to stay.

It had hurt, but that didn’t mean you stopped wanting him. It was too late by then. He was already inside you; in your brain and under your skin. When he wasn’t there, you could feel him and hear his voice in your head. All of those things he would tell you while his mouth roamed over your body, his eyes full of want and desire.

You feel so good

You’re stunning

Don’t stop, sweetheart, you’re doing so good for me

I need you, baby

The longer you let it drag on, the worse it got for you. He knew what you liked and how to give it to you. He knew what to say to make you forget everything else. When he was there, he made you his world; giving you everything you begged for and more.

Except for the one thing he never gave you, no matter how much you begged.

And you did beg. Shamefully and embarrassingly. You begged him to give you more of him. To know all of him. Not just the physical parts. You wanted to be in his head and in his soul. But he just gave you that look; the one that got you into this mess in the first place. And then he denied you all of it.

You knew why he had told you what he was. He was trying to scare you. Make you think he was a monster and finally give up on him. You had been asking him to stay again, questioning why he wouldn’t when he snapped. He threw you against the wall and pinned you there, teeth bared in a snarl, his face inches from yours.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to,” he had hissed.

“Try me,” you challenged.

You had seen the brief hesitation and confliction on his face, but then the anger was back and he spat it back at you.

“Fuck! Why are you so fucking stubborn? Fine, you want to know? Want to know why you’re going to regret all of this? I’m a killer. A fucking assassin and I kill people. I’ve killed hundreds and I’ll keep killing more!”

He was breathing hard as you stared at him, your eyes wide, while he still had you backed against the wall.

“So, what now, princess? Still think you want me?”

He had said it sarcastically, obviously thinking he already knew the answer. He thought you would push him away, or scream, or call him disgusting. Instead, you had looked in his eyes and you saw what he thought he had been hiding from you. The fear that was there. He was afraid you would push him away. Afraid you really would see him as a monster.

“Yes,” you had whispered with a nod.

Before he could answer, you had leaned in to kiss him, but he jerked his head back.

“Stop it,” he’d warned quietly. “You don’t want this.”

But you didn’t listen, and you leaned in again, hearing his breath catch in his throat. After he hesitated again, he gave in and let you brush your lips softly against his and he didn’t resist anymore. He let you kiss him and run your hands down his chest, until he was pressing you even harder into the wall, hands laced into your hair.

You’re not sure when it all became a turn-on. Or even why. It’s not like you’d ever thought murder or blood was sexy before.

But holy shit, when you saw that blood on him the first time, you thought you might come just from looking at him.

The only reason you can think of is that you know he is a hard, ruthless, unforgiving killer when he’s out there. But when he’s with you…you get to see a tiny part of him that very few others ever get to. When he’s soft and gentle and caressing your body with the warmest touch, it does something to you. Something weird and primal.

You like knowing what he’s capable of. You like knowing his secret. And you fucking love the fact that he can switch it off and on for you.

You want to hear the bloody details and see the gruesome evidence. You want to smell the dried sweat on him after a particularly draining day of tracking and killing. Because that means you get the other side of him. The one you can pretend is only for you.

Out of all your little fucked up fantasies, that one is probably the most delusional. You have never discussed exclusivity with each other before. There has hardly been a need to, considering how much time lapses in between meetings. It’s foolish of you to think you are the only one. Why would you be?

You know what he looks like and how he carries himself and how he fucks. To think that there are no other women out there taking advantage of his existence would be pretty fucking stupid.

But still, you let yourself fall into that trap sometimes. You imagine all of those days and weeks that will go by without him; when he won’t pick up the phone. You imagine him sitting there alone, thinking about you.

What a fucking idiot you are.

That’s why you had to tell yourself no more. You were cutting yourself off. It wasn’t good. It wasn’t healthy. You were becoming weird and obsessive and your self-confidence was shot. So, after one of those early mornings, when you caught him trying to slip out undetected, you told him you couldn’t do it anymore.

You told him to leave you alone. Told him to go fuck himself. Told him he was the worst person alive.

And he had just stood there, taking it all in, and not arguing. Then he had left, just like he was going to do anyway.

In hindsight, he didn’t deserve any of that. Or any of the times after that, when you had given in and started the whole pattern over again. It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t plant these pathetic ideas into your brain. He never promised you anything. Yet, you still blamed him.

All of these thoughts are running through your head as you haul your heavy body up, pausing to sit on the edge of the bed for a minute, before getting up and making your way to the bathroom. As you wait for the shower to warm up, you look at your reflection in the mirror and you flinch. Leaning in closer, you run a finger over the tender mark on the side of your neck. A red and purple bruise that is too high and too big to be covered by a shirt collar or hair. Then you take in the rest of your body. You look like some sort of fucked up connect-the-dots puzzle.

Marks all over your collarbone, your shoulders, and your tits. You even find a few on your stomach and thighs. You don’t even remember getting those.

You might have been happy about it, or even turned on if it were another time. But your mind goes back to last night and everything that he said and did.

He said you were his. He told you only he could have you. He marked you for himself and for anyone else that might see you. He would kill anyone else that touched you.

Then he left.

And you’re standing here with his bites and bruises all over your body, and his dried cum between your legs, and you’re trapped again.

You’re not sure who you hate more, yourself or him.

The shower feels good on your skin as it washes away some of what he left behind. The water mixes with the tears that are slowly dripping down your face and that you are trying hard to ignore. You feel like shit. Just like you knew you would.

So, this is it. You are done. And this is not like all of the other times you’ve said the same thing, knowing in the back of your mind that you really didn’t have the strength to follow through. Now you do. And you believe yourself this time. He will never be completely yours and you are finally ready to accept that.

After you clean up and get dressed, you stare once again at the disheveled bed and you turn away from it. You’ll deal with it later. Right now you need some coffee. Maybe that will help clear your mind a bit.

As you pad down the hallway, you hear a noise and you stop. You hear it again and you continue on, slowly and cautiously towards the kitchen. And then you see him. Bent over in front of your open fridge and you rub your eyes like you must be hallucinating. You look around you, check the clock on the wall, and determine that yes, it is the morning.

What the fuck is happening?

“Five?” you whisper.

Your voice sounds weird to your own ears and you half expect him to realize he made a mistake and blink away without a word. But he doesn’t. Instead, he turns to you and offers you that fucking irritating smile that you both hate and love. And you don’t even know what to say.

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

The sun outside is blinding as I shove my hands in my pockets, hurrying along the sidewalk, my head down. I feel the worst I’ve ever felt, and that’s saying something. I fucked up big time and the shame is still lingering. I was manipulative and possessive and rough with her. And then I was gentle and loving. I told her she was beautiful and no one else could have her.

Then I left.

I can tell myself a million times over I’m doing it for her own good, and maybe that’s partially true. But really, it’s for me. Because I can’t pull my head out of my ass for long enough to acknowledge what I really want. At least outside of my own head.

As I’m silently berating myself, something has caught my eye and I stop dead in my tracks in the middle of the sidewalk. Up ahead, coming out of an apartment building is that guy. The one she was with last night. The one I wanted to murder at first glance.

He’s got his arm around a woman’s waist, and they are smiling and laughing together as they walk outside. She is pushing a stroller with a small girl sitting inside, and he is holding onto a leash with a golden retriever on the other end of it. The woman is wearing a wedding ring with a diamond so big I can see it from here, and they carry on down the street, the perfect picture of the American family.

This time, on top of wanting to blow this guy’s fucking head off his shoulders, I want to expose him for what he is. I want to confront his wife; let her know the kind of man she’s married to and what he was up to the night before. Then maybe she’ll give me the go-ahead to at least punch him in the face.

Two things stop me, though. One is that they have a kid. And growing up knowing that your dad is a complete and total dickwad is not fun. Trust me on that. I figure she’ll find out soon enough, she doesn’t need me to bring that little piece of information to light for her.

The second thing is that I realize I am just like him.

It hits me like a punch to the gut and for a brief moment it actually hurts to take a breath in. Here I am getting pissed about this random guy’s behavior when really, he’s no different than myself. We’ve both lied to her. We’ve both used her. Maybe he didn’t get to fuck her, but he would have if I hadn’t cock blocked him.

Wow, you are one giant piece of shit.

The more I think about it, the more I realize this. Instead of killing him, I should go up to him and shake his hand. Welcome him to the club of heartless assholes; maybe buy him a drink and exchange stories of how we’re the scum of the earth. Fuck, we should be best fucking friends!

Is this what I want? Do I want to spend the rest of my life in the company of these kinds of people? People who are weak and cowardly and use others for their own selfish needs? No, I do not. And I also do not want her to be subjected to more of the same. She’s already had to deal with me; she doesn’t need to go through this with someone else.

I can fix this, though. I can do what I should have done from the start. I don’t have to be like him. I have a choice.

I turn immediately and start making my way back the way I came. I have no idea what I’m going to say or how this is going to work. I don’t know how the fuck to be in a real relationship and I sure as hell don’t know how I’m going to fit into her life. I also don’t know if she’ll even want me. But I have to try this time.

I blink inside like I always do, not even thinking about it. I’m jumpy with nerves and my palms are starting to sweat. I can hear the shower running and I think about blinking in there with her, but quickly decide that I do not want to give her a heart attack or get my balls kicked in, so instead I wait.

What do normal people do in these situations? I look around me. I should do something nice, like make her breakfast. Do I even know what she likes to eat? No, because I’ve always left before I’ve needed to find out. Dick.

Eggs seem like a pretty safe bet, so I start rummaging around in her refrigerator. As I’m pulling out the carton, I hear my name and I turn to see her standing there. She is obviously confused as to why I’m here and I smile because she’s so fucking cute with that dumb look on her face.

“What are you…did you forget something?” she asks, her eyes darting nervously away from mine.

I hold out the carton of eggs I have in my hand. “Yeah, I needed to borrow a few eggs, do you mind?”

That was my lame attempt at a joke and I can see it landed so far off the mark I can’t even see it anymore. She’s staring at me with a deep crease between her eyebrows and her mouth half open like she can’t quite decide if she should say something more or hurl the nearest sharpest object at my head.

I give a short, embarrassed laugh and I set the carton on the counter and run a hand through my hair.

“Sorry. I didn’t come here for eggs.”

 “Then why are you here?”

I can hear the tremble in her voice and I know it’s because she is afraid of my answer. She’s afraid I’m going to make her feel even worse than she already does. It sucks but I understand.

“I came back to tell you…” my voice trails off because I have no idea what to say. I clear my throat and try again. “I came back to tell you a lot of things, actually. But the main thing is that I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything I have done and everything I should have done but didn’t. You deserve much more than I have ever given you and I am so sorry for that.”

She is still looking at me very suspiciously and she is not saying anything, so I press on.

“I’ve been trying to stay away because I think you deserve someone better than me. Someone who can be a part of your life in all of the ways I don’t know how. I still think that, but I don’t want to keep doing this anymore. I want you.”

Her eyebrows draw together even more and she blinks a few times before speaking. 

“What do you mean you want me?”

I lean up against the counter and take a deep breath. “I want you. All of you. I don’t just want the sex. I want everything and anything you want to give me.”

She swallows hard and shifts her weight from one foot to the other. “Five, I don’t really…I don’t know what to say.”

I nod and look at the floor. “I understand if you want nothing to do with me. I fully deserve for you to kick me out right now and never talk to me again.”

She shakes her head. “No, that’s not what I mean. Do you know how long I have wanted to hear something like this from you? It’s fucking pathetic how long. But now that I’m hearing it, I’m having a hard time believing you.”

I run another hand through my hair and down the back of my neck. “I understand,” I say again, fully expecting to get the lecture I have coming to me.

Instead, she’s walking over to me, eyes locked on mine. She throws her body against mine and hugs me tightly around my waist and I hear and feel her take a big breath in and let it out. I wrap my arms around her in return, but I don’t know what else to say.

“Don’t lie to me,” she says quietly but firmly. “If you’re lying and you leave again, you need to stay gone.”

“I’m not lying. I want this. I might not know what the fuck I’m doing or how to do any of this, but I’m going to try.” She looks up at me and I trace my fingers down the side of her face. “I know what I want, and it’s you.”

I barely register what is happening next as she jumps into my arms, legs wrapped around me, and she’s kissing me hard and deep. I don’t even know what this means yet, but I don’t want it to end. Her body is warm as she clings to me and I never want to let her go. I tell her that in between hungry kisses and I blink us both into the bedroom where I throw her onto the bed.

I have never seen her in the bright light of the day before, and she’s even more gorgeous this way. It makes me wonder what the hell took me so long. As I lie down next to her, I place light kisses on the mark I left on her neck.

“Does it hurt?” I whisper.

“Not anymore,” she says, before pulling me back in again, covering my mouth with her own.

We don’t feel the need to hurry things along this time, and we take the time to kiss and feel one another until the urge is too strong and we can’t wait anymore. When she’s fully naked and laid out beneath me, the morning sun still shining through the window, I see my map of possessive calling cards I left all over her body. I know I shouldn’t be, but I’m most definitely turned on by that.

“Damn it, you’re beautiful like this.”

She smiles and pulls me in again, opening her legs for me so I can be inside of her, which is what I’m dying for. I don’t want to rush it though, so I thrust into her slow and gentle, covering her neck and face in more kisses. When our eyes meet, I want to tell her so many things.

“You’re the only one, you know. There’s no one else,” I confess as I drag my lips across the shell of her ear.

I hear her whimper and when I look again, she’s crying. I stop, thinking I said something wrong, but she only smiles through her tears and pulls me closer with her legs, pushing her hips up to let me know to keep going.

I shove my cock in deeper and harder. I want to hear her moan and cry for me and only me. She is arching her back and clutching at my body like she’s afraid I’m going to leave right here and now. And I feel terrible that I made her feel that way. I only want to make her feel good.

“I’m sorry,” I moan against her skin as I drive into her even harder. “I’m sorry.”

I pick up her leg and put it on my shoulder, making her mouth fall open as she lets out a loud cry.

“Oh fuck, Five…” she screams.

Just hearing that is almost enough to make me come, but I want more and so I ram into her harder and faster until her loud moans match the rhythm of my fucking. I want to fill her up again, make her mine again, and listen to my name emanating from her mouth in long sobs.

“You’re mine,” I tell her, and I can’t even stop myself. It’s all I can think as I desperately thrust into her, as hard as I dare without hurting her.

I groan, closing my eyes, as I feel her hand in my hair, threading her fingers through it. Her touch feels so good and I let her pull my face down to hers so she can kiss me again. I love the way she kisses me.

“I’m yours,” she responds before throwing her head back, exposing her neck, and I want to leave more marks on that beautiful skin, but I resist this time.

Instead, I bury my face in between her neck and shoulder and keep fucking her. She’s writhing and clawing at my back and she’s on the edge of coming. So, I keep doing what I’ve been doing and pound into her hard and relentlessly. She reaches down between us to finger her clit and the sight and feel of that is too much, because holy fuck, is that hot.

“Oh shit, baby, I’m…” I groan loudly as I unload inside of her at the same time she is shaking and shuddering beneath me.

Afterwards, when we’re both gasping for air, I pull out but I don’t move off of her. I want to stay right here, with her legs and arms wrapped tightly around me, feeling her breath against my neck and her fingers tracing over my skin. I’m so filled with every emotion imaginable and I don’t even know what to say or do. So, I say the only thing I can think of that might somehow convey everything.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, my mouth pressed against her sweat-damp shoulder. “I’m sorry,” I tell her as I move to her face, kissing her mouth, her cheeks, and her forehead. “I’m sorry,” I confess as I lay my head on her chest and close my eyes against the hot tears I can feel forming behind my eyelids.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

I’m chanting it like it’s somehow going to erase all of the things I have done. And not just to her. I’m sorry for so many things I can’t even name them all. But once I start saying it, I can’t stop and I’m just so fucking sorry for everything in my goddamn life. And I know it’s not going to change anything, or change the kind of person I was and still am. I know that. Still, it keeps rising out of me, taking on a life of its own, and I can’t seem to stop.

“I’m sorry…”

“Five, it’s ok. Five, look at me.”

I finally shut up and open my eyes to look at her.

“It’s going to be ok,” she says softly. “We’re going to be ok.”

I don’t even know what to say to that because I want to believe it so badly, but it’s just so hard to. I nod my head and kiss her lips and move off of her so I can lie next to her instead. When I pull her to me, her back to my chest, I feel the best I’ve ever felt. I still don’t know how to do this, or how to fix things, or what tomorrow is going to bring. But I’m going to stay this time, I know that much.

She is my weakness and my strength and everything that makes me whole. She is finally mine.

#number five x reader #five hargreeves smut #five x reader #five hargreeves x reader #the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #number five #tua #umbrella academy #number five fanfic #tua fanfic #five hargreeves x you #smut #tua fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfiction requests #smut requests #requests open #five hargreeves imagine #umbrella academy smut

[salvador-daley]

Sauna Klaus x Dave

Umbrella Academy smut 🍑🥵

Author’s Note: So, the other day, my husband told me about our town’s gay sauna and how there was a whole documentary about it. I didn’t ask him how he knew all this, but I did watch the documentary.

Anyway, then this happened.

All my other WIPs (Dead Sexy, Chained and High Altitude) are still ongoing and new chapters for each are coming soon - I just really needed to get this smut out of my system. (I’m sorry!)

Enjoy, filth fans! If you like it, leave me some comments and I will read them over and over while lying on my bed in the foetal position because they are my primary source of dopamine. 🧡🧡

Summary:

Dave goes to the sauna for the first time.

It goes… very well.

Snippet from Sauna:

He is beautiful - but not in the way a man is usually beautiful - in the way the Grand Canyon is beautiful. An awe-inspiring, breath-taking, all-encompassing beauty. His cheekbones and jawline are razor-sharp, his eyebrows thick and expressive, his eyelashes long, his goatee finely manicured, framing a wide, warm smile. He is so radiant, he’s almost painful to look at. Like the sun.

“Wow, you’re…”

“Invading your space, I know. I hope you don’t mind - I just have this damn tricky shoulder, I’m hoping the heat will help to loosen it up.” The man massages the top of his arm for emphasis.

Fuck, his arms are beautiful too.

Dave shakes his head “No, no, that’s fine.” He doesn’t really know what to do here, he’s been thrown off by that face, those eyes, those arms.

He panics and sticks out his hand. “I’m Dave, by the way.”

The man looks down at the proffered hand as if Dave just offered him a rubber chicken. Instantly, Dave realises his mistake; he has forgotten the primary purpose of places like these - anonymity.

A bemused smile crosses the man’s face, the kind one reserves for the quaint idiosyncrasies of a foreign tourist.

“A names guy, hey?”

It’s like Dave has suggested some new, weird kink and he’s deciding whether to go for it or not.

“Okay, then. I’m Klaus.” Klaus takes Dave’s hand and gives it a hearty shake. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Read the rest on AO3

Tagging because I crave your approval: @badsext @softforklave @anglophile-rin @neist @maerenee930 @firstpersonnarrator @allisoooon @cemeteryklaus @super-unpredictable98 @pickledbeefwastaken @love-is-dirty-baby @rina-cydonia @inspiremeandsetmefree @jender123 @vonkimmeren @narnianaos @sylvertyger @merrilark @shaneen828 @spideyxalmighty @faceache111 @rob-private @pietro-t1me @not-oscar-wilde @squishitude @courtneytarynofficial @spookyfbi @kawaiic0mmunism @wcrmboy @yeah-klave @thislovelylife @kaufmann-6 @hullosweetpea @crisecardiac

#klaus hargreeves #dave katz #klaus hargreeves smut #klave #robert sheehan #klaus x dave #tua #the umbrella academy #klaus and dave #klave smut #umbrella academy #dailytua #klaus umbrella academy #rob sheehan #tua smut #umbrellaacademy #umbrella academy smut #the umbrella academy smut #klaus Hargreeves x Dave katz #tua netflix #tua klaus #tua fanfic #umbrella academy fanfic #umbrella academy fic #tua fic

[kaybreezy3000]

Bad Things (Five Hargreeves/Reader)

~Psychopathy is a neuropsychiatric disorder marked by deficient emotional responses, lack of empathy, the inability to distinguish between right and wrong, poor behavioral controls, and behaviors that contradict social norms which then commonly result in persistent antisocial deviance and criminal behavior.

Enter, Five Hargreeves, everyone's favorite little psycho.

(Chapter Three Post)

---If you need to go back to read the summary and the first two chapters first, hit the link below. Chapter 4 through seven will be added soon...

Link to Chapters 1-2

Warnings and tags: Mental disintegration, psychological trauma, effects of isolation, masturbation, non-consensual voyeurism, explicit sexual content, bondage, POV altering, touch starved, obsessive behavior, inanimate object love, and many other sexually deviant themes all mixed with a lovely twist that you will hopefully enjoy...

---In this chapter, we start the POV switches, and they will be made clearer by large page breaks in-between.

Chapter Three: Creep

Running through his options, Five makes the quick determination that after what he just did, he can’t stay here. He needs to get the girl back inside her apartment, then he will get Dolores and together they will run.

Thanks to his fake ID, nobody knows who he really is, but as soon as the girl can, she’s going to call the police and have them search the apartments across from hers. His family will figure out what he’s been doing, and Five can already hear them going on and on about how disgusting he is.

Everyone already thinks he is a psycho, and this further proves it. His siblings may not throw him under the bus because doing so would obviously tie him to them, but it’s still possible that someone could figure out that the once famous missing boy Number Five Hargreeves is not dead like the world thought and he is not at all the person he was before he disappeared.

The possibility of the whole world knowing about the monster he has become is only adding to the heartbreak that the people he has cared about and fought for his entire life will hate him more than they already do. All this has Five questioning everything. 

They were all he lived for, and he lost them, and now this.

“You really screwed yourself this time you sick asshole,” Five angrily curses as he starts hauling the unconscious girl across the parking lot towards her building.

As if all that isn’t bad enough, Five realizes that he just ensured himself a lifetime of running from the law. This means no more trying to pretend to be a part of something he’s not, but it also means that he will have no other option but to resort to other, much less legal means of surviving.

He failed at life again and there’s a big part of him that just wants to throw in the towel and let them lock him away. But the same part of him that wouldn’t give up for the last sixty years is still there in the back of his mind screaming at him to keep fighting.

Committed to his plan, Five is about to start crossing the short distance to the girl’s building when a man in a janitorial uniform comes out the back door. Being taken off guard by his sudden appearance, Five inelegantly drops to his knees behind a parked car with the girl folding down with him on the dirty cement.

As the man crosses the lot, Five does his best to calm his heavy breaths to a more manageable level. He hasn’t had the chance to let his racing heart slow down since his extremely drunk sprint down the stairs.

Not being his usual stealthy, in control self and not being able to easily blink himself out of this situation is enough to make Five’s mounting panic much worse. The fact that he just heard the door electronically lock after the guy closed it isn’t helping either. It didn’t even occur to him that her building might need an entrance code.

“God, damnit!” he quietly hisses.

He could slip in behind someone, but that’s not likely at this hour, and not with the girl passed out in his arms. Hitting random buttons in the hopes that someone will buzz him in will get the police called or it will wake the whole building, so that’s a big fat no.

As the other man pulls out of the lot, Five makes a split-second decision based on his most recent plan being blown all to hell. He does not want to leave the girl outside lying on the ground, especially in this neighborhood. He’ll have to leave her in his apartment. He’s screwed one way or the other. It really doesn’t matter where he puts her as long as it is safe. He’ll grab only what he has to, and he’ll be gone before she fully comes to.

Five pushes his back against the car, using it to help balance him as he gets them both upright again. Then swooping the girl up in his arms, the alcohol gets the best of him and Five accidentally stumbles backwards into the car before moving forward towards his own building.

“I am never drinking again,” he declares, weaving with each step he takes. Five is trying so hard to push past how dizzy he feels, but drunk is drunk and it’s getting worse.

After the girl blew him off tonight, Five had the grand plan of passing out in a super sloshed stupor. The whiskey he tried to drown his sorrows in is catching up with him by this point and he’s realizing that finishing the whole bottle was just one more bad decision to add to the many others he’s made tonight.

When Five opens the lower-level door to his complex, he can see that no one is in the shabby hallway that leads to the elevator, and it seems like his shitty luck is changing because the thing is working, and it’s already on the ground floor. 

There’s no way he would have made it up the stairs at this point. Heavy feet scuffing along across the worn tiles, Five moves inside, throwing his elbow against the button for the seventh floor.

As soon as the doors close, he woozily drops his weight back on the wall, and sets the girl down, keeping one arm around the girl’s waist to hold her upright and the other angled across her chest to keep her from tipping forward.

Five can hardly grasp how quickly he just fucked everything up. A few minutes ago, he was in the throes of personal passion, about to blow his load all over his costly dress pants, and the next he sealed the deal that he was completely ruining his already ruined life.

Five is being consumed by his deeply depressing thoughts about himself as the old elevator doors close and it groans to life. The girl’s flowery smelling hair is rubbing up against the side of his cheek, and he can feel the heat of her body pressing back against him in a very tormenting way considering his self-self-absorbed cock brain hasn’t caught up to speed yet that he is not sitting there in his kitchen with his hand on his dick about to destroy his own lap with jizz.

His partial erection from that sad whack fest is wedged right between this girl’s warm cheeks, and it’s just like he was imagining positioning himself on her Monday night. 

Now that Five has the girl’s body pressed up next to his while he’s holding her in what many would think looks like it’s a very loving embrace, the truth that he has actually been violating her by watching her and getting his rocks off is impossible to ignore. 

You can’t imagine something if it’s right in front of you physically touching you. The entire fantasy he’s been creating in his head just completely disintegrated.

Now things just got very real and it’s not in a good way.

“I am so sorry I am doing this to you,” he hotly breathes, his forehead falling even more against the girl’s shoulder as he forces down the growing sickness in his stomach.

With extreme sadness, Five thinks about the trauma he just inflicted on this girl. Five knows trauma and his own experiences with it is what resulted in him being unable to put himself out there to have anything worthwhile in his life. 

He had wanted nothing more than to know what it was like to passionately hold someone he cared about and who also cared about him, but the horror of how it’s happening right now is unbelievable. It seems like this must be happening to someone else. 

Five is so tormented by all this, and intoxicated, that he doesn’t realize he hasn’t been holding any pressure on the girls’ neck since he carried her inside. Her knuckles make unexpected contact, hitting the bridge of his nose. Five eyes instantaneously pinch shut to the intense sensation of shooting pain that makes everything in his face burn and his eyes flood with tears.

The girl’s furious screech reverberates inside the elevator. “Get off me!”

Taking Five’s momentary inability to function, her other arm wiggles free from the arm he has around her waist. She pulls away, maneuvering her fist back and down at the same time, nailing him right between the legs.

“Ff-ah-ckkk!” 

Five’s sudden high pitch yelp comes out just as loud as the girl’s cry, but unlike her, his verbal alarm ends in a very hushed groan followed by a whisper of a wheeze as he frantically fights not to double over and also maintain his hold on the back of her sweater.

Five gags down his vomit that is threatening to make this even worse, and while he is immersed in the sensations of pure agony, she comes at him again. 

Somehow, Five manages to move his head back just in time, narrowly avoiding another jab to the face. Her hand hits his upper sternum instead and just as fast, her fingers find their way around his silk tie, yanking his head forward with it.

Five instinctively retaliates by violently twisting his arm around her neck.

“St-ooo-ppp,” he splutters as they choke each other.

“Let go!” she piercingly shrieks before she’s completely deprived of the air to do so.

Dropping her weight as her fingers dig at Five’s arm doesn’t have the desired effect of getting him to let go, so she digs her heels into the floor plowing backwards instead. 

Her reverse attack makes Five’s dress shoes slip out from under him on the grimy floor. The impact of Five’s head as it swings back into the metal wall makes a cracking sound that leaves the wall vibrating.

Totally in shock and seeing the brilliant scattering of stars filling his vision, Five’s free arm swings out, searching for the railing behind him, but he misses. He starts to lose consciousness. All at once, his full body weight is hanging on the girl’s neck as darkness begins swallowing up his remaining vision.

The girl lets out a helpless sounding whimper as they start to fall. 

Beyond faint and feeling equally helpless, Five inadvertently squeezes his arm tighter, using the girl to pull himself upright again. To his relief, her fingers suddenly release the sleeve of his dress shirt and her arms flop down limply at her sides.

DING!

At the same time the doors rumble open, the girl’s legs give out and Five almost drops her.

Unable to think let alone function like he normally would, Five hoists her back up then unsteadily stumbles out of the elevator with the girl’s feet dragging between his legs.

Light-headedly glancing both ways, he is beyond grateful that no one is out there looking to see what all yelling was about. 

Beaten and bloodied, Five makes it inside his own door a few seconds later and his first move is getting them both over to the bed because he still feels like he may fall flat on his face.

Five hastily drops the girl down next to Dolores, then he moves towards his kitchen, swaying as he navigates the short distance. 

After getting the shit beat out of him, he is quickly processing the fact that he needs to adjust his original plan to drop her and go. He is going to need to shake at least some of his drunken and concussed brain fog before he can walk even remotely straight. If he doesn’t, he may pass out in the street or his own hallway with his face smacked down in a pile of his own puke.

The idea of the cops finding him like that, with the addition of Dolores lying next to him, is enough to push along Five’s new approach to make this all still work out in both their favor. The most important thing he figures right now is that he needs to keep this girl quiet for a little while before he is functioning enough to leave.

Five throws open the utility cabinet, his unfocused eyes landing on the hook with the wound-up nylon rope hanging on it. The apartment’s previous other weirdo occupant had left many things behind, but unlike the loads of old stuffed animals, this was one thing that Five didn’t throw away being it had many practical uses. In this case, tying someone up.

“They are right, you are a psycho,” Five mutters to himself as he digs around finding nothing else useful.

Next, opening the first drawer next to the refrigerator, he grabs his switchblade and his revolver. It had been Five’s norm to always carry both these weapons, but he stopped when he figured out that there were no field operatives from The Commission coming after him in this new world because there was no more Commission.

Klaus was right, he thinks. He was better when he had an evil taskmaster to keep him in line.

Staggering a little as he turns around, he sets the gun on the kitchen table and tucks the knife into the waistband of his pants. Next, making it back over to the bed with what he figures will be enough to keep the girl safely detained till he is more composed, Five is surprised to see that she isn’t waking up yet.

He says her name.

Nothing.

Five throws the rope on the bed, then picks up her wrist, checking her pulse. He doesn’t feel one, so his trembling fingers move to her neck, pressing against her throat instead. The girl doesn’t react to him touching her, and Five still can’t feel anything.

“Oh, no, no, NO, NO !” He says the girl’s name a few more times, and again he gets nothing. “Dolores, I didn’t mean to- Shit, shit, fucking SHIT!"

Feeling like he’s losing what’s left of his mind, Five doesn’t know what to say, and even though Dolores is right there, she doesn’t respond to his terrified ramblings.

Even though his mind is spinning out of control, Five’s years of training kick in. He jumps on the bed, rolling the girl on her side. Then he lifts her chin, putting her in the recovery position that you are supposed to do for someone when trying to revive them after being fully choked out. The maneuver makes the girl’s mouth fall open and Five checks to make sure that her airway is not blocked, or that her own tongue didn’t slip back in her throat.

Everything is normal. She should be able to breathe, but for some reason she is not, and she is not waking up.

Kneeling over her, one hand on her back, Five starts rubbing. “Come on, breathe! You’re strong, you just showed me how strong you are. Breathe damn it!”

He knows very well how this works, and giving her CPR will do nothing because this is not happening to her because of cardiac arrest.

Lifting her legs so that more blood moves to her brain is not that effective at helping to revive someone in this condition, and it’s sure as hell not going to work if she’s already gone. Five could stand her on her head and no amount of blood running to her brain will bring her back if she is dead.

“Come on! NO! You can’t die!” he angrily pleads, even as both his hands keep at it, one now methodically trying to massage life into her cold legs.

Counting the minutes in his head, Five can’t really say how long he would have been squeezing tight enough to fully deprive her of oxygen. He knows that all it takes is a matter of a minute like that and someone can face permanent brain damage or death. 

They were in the parking lot for only a minute or so after she swung the bat at him. He knows he let up on her throat enough during that time because she woke up a little when they were crouched behind that car. She was moving in his lap, and he heard soft moaning sounds coming out of her. Then as soon as the car pulled out of the lot, he carried her in, not choking her at all.

In the elevator, he fucked-up big time and he let her wake up completely. Five is sure that she was never completely out more than twice and for no more than about thirty seconds at a time. 

Right?

From where Five has himself positioned next to the girl, one of his knees is pressing against Dolores’s hip and with glistening eyes he looks from the girl to her. 

“I didn’t mean to do this,” he insists.

Again, Dolores says nothing to calm Five or reassure him like she normally would. His watery eyes plead with her, but he gets nothing.

“Oh my God, thank you,” Five cries, with his head swinging back to the girl. His hand on her back slowly begins to rise and fall as she comes back to life. “That’s it. Keep breathing, it’s going to be okay.”

The girl slowly begins to move her legs and Five puts his hands under her side, sliding her small body up closer to the headboard. She makes a small sound of complaint at being handled, but he still needs to restrain her hands, or she’ll be trying to fight him again the second she’s aware of what is happening.

Mechanically, Five flips open his long switchblade so he can quickly cut the correct lengths of rope with it. Then just as fast, he makes tight loops around both of her wrists. Seeing that he’s at least not totally fucking that up that lesson he learned over and over as a child, and that her arms are snuggly secured above her head to his headboard, he risks looking over at Dolores again.

“I think she’s okay. I know how this looks, but you know that I didn’t mean to do this. I was never going to go near her. It was only supposed to be just me waahh-"

Five can’t finish that one, and that is because saying that it was only supposed to be him watching the girl doesn’t make it okay. None of this is okay. His eyelids lower and he rubs the area between his eyes.

“Please talk to me, sweetheart. I don’t know what to do. I think something is very, very wrong with me. I need you,” he pleads, winching in pain as the trickle of blood from his nose continues to drip down over his upper lip.

Five gets nothing back, and right now, he needs his trusted voice of reason more than ever. In his head, he can only imagine that Dolores is not acknowledging him because she is questioning why he is tying this poor girl up like this if he supposedly didn’t mean to do this. 

To him, she is probably thinking that he is going to hurt her even more than he already has and that makes Five spiral even worse.

“Please don’t hate me. The only reason she’s tied up is because I need to stay here long enough to make sure she’s going to make it, and I can’t leave like this. I need time to clean up,” he tries to explain. “I will get us out of here. We can start over,” he promises. 

His blurring eyes dart from Dolores to the girl, then back again.

With tears starting to run down his face, Five gasps out a devastated sob, “Dolores, I need help. Please, talk to me!” Again, she doesn’t react, and his reddened eyes fearfully widen. “Dolores!” The quiver in his voice matches the quiver in his bloodied hands.

Nothing.

Five just drug in the near lifeless body of the very real girl from across the alley, placing her in the bed next to his beloved. Now, having them both laying there opposite each other, all he can see in the mannequin’s normally devoted expression of limitless acceptance is the actual lifeless object she is. 

Just like in the elevator with the girl right there with him, now Five is finding that he can’t pretend anymore.

Dolores’s face stares out blankly, the matte finished paint of her sky-blue eyes will not meet his. 

In Five’s entire time with her, this has never happened.

As Five moves himself down the girl’s legs, snaking the nylon around her ankles, he does so with the shock of knowing that Dolores finally left him.

Now he really has nothing to live for.

Feeling totally out of it, liquid dribbles from your slack mouth. You feel the softest tickle as the hair that’s stuck to your cheek pulls away.

“Wha thhh-ah," you start to mumble, but you are so groggy that at first you can’t even complete a thought let alone string two measly words together.

It feels like you are in bed, but you don’t remember going to bed.

In your jumbled thoughts, you recall going on a blind date with a guy from a stupid dating website. That obviously turned out to be a very bad decision. You should have known this guy was bad news when he showed up early and he somehow snuck inside your building instead waiting down in the parking lot. 

At the end of the night, the douche monger insisted on walking you to your door, and then he really upped his creep factor when he jumped on you.

You remember feeling extremely unhinged and completely repulsed by what he did. As such, you figured that it was a excellent idea to educate the prick on what would happen if he ever tried that date rape shit on anyone again.

As this all comes back to you, your eyes start to flutter open, but the room is dim, and your vision is badly distorted. 

More liquid slips inside your parted lips.

“Please, wake up,” the softest male voice worriedly whispers.

Hearing that, you immediately try to move, but like the voice, everything feels wrong. It feels like your arms and legs aren’t working right.

You feel a warm hand on your back slowly moving back and forth.

That’s when you remember that strange man in the parking lot.

“No,” you croak out, as you remember the unmistakable shape of his firm manhood pressing up against your ass as he cut off your air supply with the constriction of his arm around your already bruised throat.

It feels like something is still wrapped around your neck but whatever it is, it’s not painful and tight, it’s cold.

This doesn’t make sense.

Your mouth quickly shuts, your eyes flying open, as you try to sit up. Adding to your horror, you find that you can’t. Your arms flex and pull but they won’t give in to your request. Your chest and bottom rise off the bed only to immediately get pulled back down.

As your vision clears, you realize that someone is sitting next to you. 

Dark hair dangles over pale green colored eyes. 

The expression on his face is empty, not at all the way it was when you first laid eyes on it. Then, this lunatic appeared harmless. He even looked greatly concerned for your well-being. His eyes were conveying such open sorrow that it threw you off enough to let him approach.

He was acting like he knew you. He called you by name.

You open your mouth to scream but he quickly covers the sound with a thick fold of fabric that a second ago must have been around the cold pack that is now on his lap. His eyes narrow as his hand firmly presses the towel against your face.

As air wheezes through your partially blocked nose, he says, “Don’t. Do. That. Again.”

Every word out of his mouth is filled with warning.

Even if you weren’t already completely scared stiff, just the look in his eyes has the sound of your own blood thrumming in your ears and your heart feeling like it’s going to burst out of your chest.  

This can’t be the same voice you just heard speaking so compassionately.

Looking for help, your eyes try to take in the room behind him, but you don’t see anyone else.

Angling your chin backwards, you see someone illuminated by the small bedside lamp, but your own eyes grow even wider when you realize that the woman lying there next to you is not alive.

It’s an old, full body mannequin like you would normally see at a dump or in a second-hand clothing store.

You try to scream again but he pushes his hand down harder, completely muffling it.

“I said, DON’T!” he growls as you yank at the ropes binding your wrists. They won’t budge and that’s because you are tied to a very heavy-looking wooden headboard. 

Trying to move your legs again, you realize that each ankle is tied much like your hands, then fastened by extended lines of rope to opposite bed posts at the foot of the bed.

It dawns on you that this is his bed.

This perverted asshole saw what your douchebag date did to you. He has been watching you for who knows how long, and now he has abducted you. Your legs are spread wide, and your skirt is pushed up so high from your floundering that you know he can see right under it from where he’s sitting.

You can’t believe this is happening, but it is.

Again, you remember feeling this fucker pressing himself on you. He was hard.

This guy was turned on by squeezing the life out of you, and he has a plastic woman in his bed!

Oh, shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT!

This is so bad.

As you mentally lose your shit, his eyes never leave yours. One of his thighs is pressing against your side and he’s still holding the bottle he must have been feeding you with, but from the way he is sitting at the edge of the bed, you can’t tell if he is still aroused.

You want to scream at him to let you go but you can do nothing. You are entirely at his mercy.

The only reasons you can come up with for why he is doing this aren’t good, but you force yourself not to go there. You have to focus.

Since he’s not actually touching, touching you yet, you try to concentrate on the rest of your surroundings, looking for some way out of this.

There is an old looking electric stove in a small kitchen area across the room, with an equally old looking refrigerator next to it. A small beat-up looking table sits under one of the only two windows and it has an empty liquor bottle on it and something black that looks like a revolver of some kind.

Great.

You remember smelling the strong scent of booze on his breath in the elevator. He is clearly shit faced. Your eyes flit back to his. He hasn’t moved at all.

Oh my God, you are going to die.

Looking out again, you see that in front of the bed, there’s a very battered looking recliner. Other than the basics, there is nothing someone would have that would give signs that they lived there. There are no pictures on the walls. No TV, no shelves full of personal belongings. Next to the recliner, on the floor, you can just make out that there is a stack of books, but that is it.

You see what must be the door to get out, and one that is narrower and has slatted vents in it, meaning it’s a closet. Behind you, when you tilted your head back to look at what was holding you from moving your arms, you saw what appeared to be a tiny bathroom.

At first glance, you see nothing that can help you. It’s just some psycho guy’s shitty shoe box sized apartment.

His indifferent reaction as you look around his home is jarring. The flawlessly smooth skin on his face gives the impression of youthful innocence, but what he’s doing proves he is far from it.

You’re betting this fancy dressing Ted Bundy has got piles of bodies under his bed and body parts galore in his freezer. Now you see it; he’s totally the type!

SHIT!

His expensive looking three-piece suit didn’t make sense in this neighborhood. Now splatters of blood stain the sleeves of his white dress shirt. He clearly used the cuffs to wipe his nose based on the numerous red smears. 

You wish so badly that you’d hit him hard enough to break his whole stupid face.

You risk looking at more of him, and you see that he is missing the tie he had on before, and you can only assume that is because the first chance you had, you latched on to it and tried to strangle him with it.

He is clearly not taking any chances of that happening again.

Uselessly trying to wriggle away from him, your arms pull down on the ropes and the heels of your bare feet slide across his rumpled bedding.

He took off your shoes!

Your stomach sickens with the realization that he has already been touching you when you were unconscious. 

Again, you notice how high your skirt is, but he isn’t looking there, his cold eyes remain fixed on yours.

You can’t help it when you scream under his hand, but that only makes him even more scary looking. His features contort ominously.

“This is not what I wanted. I-” He suddenly pauses, a line forms between his eyes as they run over your face, down your body and back up again. “You never should have lifted that bat.”

You try to tell him that you don’t care what he wants or that he didn’t want his head bashed in, but your words are totally stifled by the persistent pressure of his hand.

“You kept fighting me. I had no choice but to do what I did,” he scolds, like this is your fault rather than his.

He reaches over to the bedside table, setting the bottle of water down, then he picks up another length of rope off of it. The moment he removes his hand from your mouth, he forces your lips apart, jabbing the cloth inside. His other hand is already behind your head, pushing it forward as he works the rope between your lips.

As he ties the ends at the nape of your neck you realize it’s to keep the gag in. Your mouth is so full of fabric that not even the roaring animalist growls coming out of you are even remotely loud enough to get anyone’s attention.

Your teeth bare down on the nylon fibers as you glare at him in blind hatred.

Eyes darting away from yours, he slowly starts to sit up, but he abruptly stops when you let out a pathetic mewing sound. Those green eyes of his give the faintest hint of something as he watches the burning hot tears rolling back into your hairline.

His hand comes up brushing his dark chocolate colored hair out of his eyes before tucking it behind his ears. His eyes close so sluggishly it is like it pains him to take in the very deep breaths he is all of a sudden taking. 

The heavy fringe of his lashes sweeps his cheeks covering the dark hued skin under his eyes. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, but the faint bruising that is starting to form is also from when you hit him, and it only seems to be showing at all because of how fair his skin is.

First, sexual assault and now you are finishing your fabulous Friday night off being this crazy prick’s new and improved sex doll. 

Is this really going to be your final fate? Live a subpar existence scratching to get by, working meaningless jobs to pay the rent, then die because some crazy asshole across the alley from you decided to remove you from the world for his own sick satisfaction?

You would laugh at your ridiculously bad luck if you weren’t crying and if you could actually laugh.

He’s going to kill you. There’s no other way out of this.

“Just let me go,” you beg him. It comes out of you, but with hardly any sound though saying it makes his eyes dart back to yours anyway.

His face is one of those that you’ve seen that can express the most heart wrenching emotion if he lets it. Right now, it seems it’s more of failing to hide it than intentionally showing that he’s not as cold as he is pretending to be. 

His prominent jaw line seems even more dramatic as you notice him clenching his teeth. It makes the dimple on his cheek stand out even more. He looks so sad, and that reaction is baffling because a moment before he looked like he felt nothing and didn’t even have the tiniest amount of remorse or humanity in him.

You swear you see his hand closest to you trembling.

That has to mean something.

You try to plead with him again, but hearing it, he steels his expression to nothingness again, he stands, preparing to walk away from you.

Christ! Even crazy vagrants on the street don’t have the gift to emotionally turn off and on as quickly as this guy can, and that’s no matter how long gone their minds are.

If you could just get through to him somehow, then maybe you’d have a chance, but how can you do that if he is mentally all over the place.

As he moves, you can see his entire body more clearly. He has straight shoulders, but he is hunching them forward in an odd way that doesn’t match his young age. His chin is angled down to the floor like he simply can’t stand looking at anything else.

His trim waist is defined even more by his tailored vest. He’s one of those guys who has that V-shaped torso that comes from having zero body fat. He’s all lean muscle and bone. Add the fitted black dress pants enhancing the slim look of him and you’d think he’s nobody to worry about, but you know already that he is not weak. Under this misleading appearance is hiding the very dangerous man that just took you.

Your eyes follow his every move as he travels over to the other side of the bed. Again, you swear you see the look of pure agony in his face as he lifts the mannequin and sets her down a few feet away over by the window on what has to be a stand because the thing is standing there dressed all pretty like she belongs in a 90's department store not this freak job’s apartment.

He goes ghostly still with one of his hands resting on the form of its narrow waist.

You hear him softly talking to it and it’s almost exactly the way you heard him speaking when you were coming to.

“Dolores, please… I love you,” he pleads. He is looking at the dummy like he is expecting it to answer him.

When you look to the window beyond him over there having this extremely bizarre moment with his plastic girlfriend, you see the flowers dangling from your own flower box blowing in the wind.

He was right across from you the whole time.

You look over again at the single chair pulled up at the small table next to the window. You can just imagine him sitting there in the dark, finishing off that bottle, watching you.

Being an opportunistic perv that gets turned on by peeping on others is one thing, but this guy was getting off by watching you get attacked and he was clearly also turned on by attacking you.

He’s a sexual sadist and while he rapes you, he is going to do his best to make you suffer even more!

Animalistic sounds of pure desperation erupt from your chest, and they get even louder when he abruptly turns away from his one-sided conversation with the mannequin and comes back towards the bed.

You see his expression change to something fierce and dangerous. His entire body seems to thrum like a bowstring drawn taut. You can almost feel the carefully restrained violence about to explode all over you.

His gaze is so intense that your whole body shudders and his voice comes out so achingly low that he sounds like a different person. “If you have already done the worst things a human could do, would it matter if you sealed it that the devil owns you?”

You do not like where this is going. You shake your head side to side, denying him. You refuse to draw the parallels he is trying to make in justifying what he’s going to do.

“I lost everything. There is no point in fighting anymore,” he whispers.

Even though you don’t want to give them to him, tears trickle down your cheeks again. Seeing them, the faintest trace of a sound comes from somewhere deep inside his chest.

There is something. Something inside all that coldness. He looks sad. You are the one tied to his bed, and he looks sad…

What?

After another minute of him seeming to consider something, he begins to hungrily study you, or at least it appears that way to you in that slow, languid way his eyes roamed over your body. When they hover over your chest, your breath hitches, and you think you hear his hitch too.

“Go fuck yourself, asshole!” you frantically cry, adding every curse word you know and even adding some new ones specially invented just for him. It comes out garbled, but you are sure he is getting the gist.

He reaches for the bottle of water on the nightstand, his eyes roll back in his head, and he almost falls down as he proceeds to pound it. 

After stumbling and then tossing the empty bottle on the floor, he moves across the bed, crawling on hands and knees towards you. The mattress sags beneath his weight as he bends down on top of you.

His weight hovers over you, and your fingers curl into fists. Your arms pulled down but to no avail. 

Reactively, when his hand comes towards your face, you pull back as much as you can. He stops for a second, dark brows furrowing like he doesn’t understand your reaction. 

“Sweetheart, no, please. You know I'd never hurt you,” he slurs, then his long fingers gently run across your skin to wipe your tears away. 

You shudder. 

He still has that look. You know it even though you don’t know him. It’s the look of misery.

He brushes your tangled hair back and the frown on his face deepens. Those pale cheeks of his suddenly flush with…

Arousal? Shame? Murderous rage? You have no idea until you look between your bodies, and you see that his crotch region is definitely tenting in a way it wasn't a few minutes ago. 

Very slowly, he traces the bruises your date left on your neck with a finger. The sensation makes you shiver in fear, and you see him shiver too. You are sure he’s about to lower himself on you but then he rolls off, staggers to the bathroom, and then slams the door behind him.

Entering his bathroom, Five’s body falls forward over the small counter. He clings to the edge holding himself steady, while hoping he will be able to think clearer now that he is away from the girl.

Five is completely overwhelmed with unimaginable levels of sorrow and gross intoxication, but the worst of it is the very demanding reaction his body is having over seeing the girl laying under him on his bed. As bad of shape as he is in, Five can’t even link together any coherent thoughts other than that when he looked at the girl, he was seeing Dolores.

“Dolores, no,” he breathlessly cries in pure unfiltered agony over the gut-wrenching loss he feels.

Wanting to stop the pain and unable to operate on anything but pure brainless need, rather than hurt the girl because he has completely lost his mind, Five desperately begins to hurt himself.

He lowers his head even more, panting out panicked gasps for air as one of his trembling hands starts to rub the front of his pants.

“Please. Fuck. Help me,” he moans, meaning much more than the words can convey as his other hand fumbles to get his zipper down. 

Once he has himself free, Five is quick to start jerking himself with an intensity and cruelty that only makes his head spin even more than it already is. 

“Nahhhh-nnnn-” His instant moans of pleasure are followed by the top of his head accidentally banging up against the oval mirror hanging above the sink.  

Pumping his hips, Five rams the hand he is using to grope his tight balls, jamming it abusively right up against the edge of the counter. His angry touches feel so damn good despite the punishment that the combination only makes him moan even louder.

His knees bang over and over against the cabinet as he finds every way possible to inflict pain on himself while also giving in to that heady desire trying to consume him.

Five winces as his knuckles begin to split after making contact too many times with the hard surface, but he doesn’t stop doing it. He wants this sweet torture to drown out the rest of his unbearable suffering. 

Hair falling in his eyes and his skin feeling like it’s on fire, Five’s other hand continues taking care of the rest of his shaft. His fingers are circled around the end of the hard length, and they are moving up and down so fast that when he peers down at himself, all he sees is a violent blur.

“Yessssssss!”

Mouth hanging open, Five’s come begins to spurt out of him. The near iridescence of his release is somewhere between a milky white and a purely clear watery fluid, allowing it to blend in almost seamlessly into the fake chalky colored marble of his chipped counter. With a dazed expression, Five’s body twitches repeatedly as he watches it drip down into the bowl of his sink. 

As the waves of ecstasy all too quickly abandon him, Five’s bloodshot eyes turn up to the monster in the mirror. 

All at once, his fist slams into the face staring back at him. The glass shatters, raining down sharp blades of Five’s reflection, scattering his hatred at his feet and all over the counter.

As if what just happened when he was suspending his body over you isn't appalling enough, the sounds coming from the bathroom are making you really lose your mind. You yank at your constraints hard enough to make your quickly abrading skin begin to bleed.

It's very clear what he is doing in there; you don't need to see him to know that he took your advice and is actively fucking himself. The only good thing about this is that he is not trying to fuck you and he is in there and you are out here.

When the sound of glass breaking and things hitting the floor abruptly comes after a another one of his guttural groans, you are pulling so hard on the headboard to break free that it's banging against the wall behind it.

Not more than a minute later, the bathroom door swings open and he's back at the side of the bed looking down at you with those empty eyes. 

“I need you to be quiet a little longer." His words don't sound mad or even scary even though he just busted you trying to break free. He sounds very meek but that makes sense considering what he did in there.

You can't help your eyes from moving right from his to his fly, and sure enough, Mr. Psycho's Mr. Happy seems to be momentarily tamed.

Just when you are thinking you might be safe, he shifts himself over on the mattress where the mannequin was.

Just the act of laying down looks like it hurts him. His moist looking eyes open and shut like he can hardly hold them open as he lets out a very pained moan that makes him sound like a child that needs his mommy very badly.

You can see his hand is freshly bleeding but not bad. He doesn't even seem to notice.

“I am going to let you go. I just need to clear my head for a few minutes, and I am cutting you loose and leaving. This will all be over soon,” he hushes when the bed moves from you trying to wriggle away from him.

As he settles into the blankets and his eyes droop closed, his black vest pulls up as he stretches out and you immediately notice that he has some kind of knife tucked under his waistband. 

After a minute or two of laying like that, eyes closed still, he rolls over and his arm flops down over your chest, his hand landing way to close to your neck again. You try to shake him off, but you have nowhere to go, and he remains as is. 

This guy can say what he wants about letting you go, but him lying next to you, hand on your throat, with this fuck mannequin watching him resting up enough so that he can brutally rape you doesn’t have you feeling any less terrified. 

The only reason you are not screaming anymore is because you don’t want to set him off now that he is this close.

Less than a minute later of you laying there thinking this is it, his chin slides down the arm he has folded under his head, and as it happens, the choppy looking fringe of his hair falls over his face.

Holy shit… You cannot believe it, but he just passed out. 

His heavy breathing immediately starts to relax.

Whether he was lying or not when he said he wasn’t going to hurt you and that he was also going to let you go, you have no idea, but it doesn’t matter. Seeing your chance, your arms begin pulling again. You twist and torque your wrists, working the ropes.

The sound of loud vibration startles you and you go stark still, your eyes darting to the kitchen table as your heartrate flies through the roof. 

You can’t be sure, because it’s so dark, but you think there is a cell phone lying there next to the gun. Just as you start to wriggle your wrists again, the phone vibrates again and at the same time, he lets out an annoyed sounding grumble. “Leave me alone, Klaus.”

Klaus?

The third time the phone buzzes, his upper leg moves over, locking down over one of yours.

You close your eyes, willing your mind to take you anywhere but here.

Stupid phone and fuck you Klaus person whoever you are.

“Don’t wake up the psycho, I am about to shiv his ass! ” your mind yells at the offending electronic device.

Not long later, the hand at your throat begins to move away, but as it retreats, your crazy cuddle buddy snuggles his body even closer to yours. This new intrusion on your personal space seems to make him happy enough at first, but then all of a sudden, he must decide that he is not warm enough. He reaches back and flips the bed spread over you both and in doing so, the cuff on his right arm pulls up and something catches your eye.

He has a tattoo on the underside of his wrist. It’s the silhouette of a black umbrella with a circle around it.

What the hell?

You’ve seen that symbol before. You were a little too young when the superhero kids that belonged to the infamous money mogul Sir Reginal Hargreeves were all the rage, but you have heard of them. They all supposedly disbanded when they came of age, and from what you remember hearing, one or two may have even died before that.

They all were born with different unimaginable powers and were often seen in public as children stepping in here or there during major emergencies to show off their extraordinary skills. 

You’ve seen old posters with them, but none of their faces are coming back to you except the girl named Allison, and that is because she has been in the news over the years for different movies that she has been in. 

They were all exactly the same age, and this guy looks like he could be ten years younger than her.

He can’t be one of them…

Can he?

Whether he’s one of them or not, just like with your date tonight, as soon as you get free, you are going to show this sorry sack that he may think he knows you and you are just going to lay here and let him treat you like his little play thing, but he got it all wrong. 

He picked the wrong girl to fuck with.

If this loser was one of the Umbrella Academy kids, you haven’t seen any signs of his powers, which might be because you recall hearing that they all lost them at some point. If he is one of them, it appears he lost even more than that, and he is in luck because you are about to help him lose even more.

The rope painfully digs into your skin. You are so close. A few more twists and the ligaments holding your thumb together will slide, letting your bones pop out of place. Then you can grab his knife and it’s go time fucker.

Someone is getting a knife through the dick and it’s one hundred percent Mr. Umbrella Academy Tattoo!

The phone lets out another long buzzing sound then stops. He doesn’t say anything this time, but the disturbance must have disturbed him again because you feel his hand slowly start surveying your upper leg, his fingers gently tracing a line northward.

You begin to struggle. Your nasally whines of protest have him swiftly changing course, instead clamping that same hand at your waist. He pulls you closer as he presses his face against your neck.

“I am sorry, Dolores…” he whispers.

He is so close. Everything suddenly feels very hot.

His lips part then they start feather lightly, sweep along the coating of moisture he’s creating on your skin. When the heat of his pelvis moves tight against your hip, you are shocked that he isn’t hard again over violating you. 

This guy doesn’t make any sense. You thought that was part of the whole thing he was into, but when he popped a woody from touching your face and neck, as soon as he noticed it was happening, he took off like he was scared shitless.

Maybe right now he is just not recovered enough from his last weirdo whack session or...

Is it possible that he really doesn't want to hurt you. Maybe he wasn’t planning on it when he reached out like he did in the parking lot? 

Maybe you had it all wrong in thinking that he was enjoying watching you nearly getting raped. He had clearly been doing something by way of enjoying himself prior to sprinting out into the parking lot, but…

All of a sudden, it dawns on you that he actually looked very upset by what he saw happen. He sounded very upset by it. It was like he was so distressed by it that he ran down there planning to do something about it. 

He looked like he wasn’t expecting you to be there. He actually seemed very confused by it.

Was he coming after your date?

At the moment, you didn’t see all that, but now…

Well…

What the fuck?

He is obviously very messed up, but maybe not in messed-up in the ‘I’m going to violently rape you and murder you’ kind of way.

He did abduct you, but he just said he was going to let you go. He said that he was going to leave.

For some bizarre reason, he seems to be very in love with his mannequin and you are almost certain that right now he thinks you are her. He is so delusional; he probably can’t even tell the difference.

Again, your feet dig down into his mattress as he nuzzles your neck and makes one of those super soft whimpering noises.

This does not feel like he’s trying to hurt you. It feels like he is trying to do something else entirely.

Something is not adding up other than he is most certainly off his rocker.

He said that he has done the worst things a human can do, and you have no idea what he meant by that, but when he could have raped you while you were out or even now, he didn’t. Besides tying you up, the things he was doing before taking off to take care of his boner problem were all in an effort to help you. 

Add all this up and what he said about letting the devil own him, may not have been implying what you originally thought. The more you think about it, it seems like he could have been talking about killing himself, not giving in to raping and killing you.

You can’t see his entire face, but you can tell that his eyes are still pinched shut and it’s in such a way that looks so miserable.

You have no idea what is going on with the guy but it’s clear that something is very wrong with him, and it’s not just that he is mega wasted.

As your mind is putting all this together, he lets out a throaty sound that almost sounds like a sob before he begins placing soft kisses along your bruised neck while vibrating his next words across your skin. “Please don’t leave me.”  

His hand at the narrowest part of your waist slips under you, tenderly massaging circles against your lower back. His warm fingers very subtly dig in as if he’s trying to comfort you.

You can’t help it when a similar sounding whine comes out of you as your heels dig in across the bedding again. 

He is all over you and not in the hurtful kind of way. 

This is not what you’d expect from a sexual sadist who gets their jollies off torturing people.

As he kisses just below your ear in that very sensitive space that makes your toes curl, he does so like he has done this maneuver about a million times, and he lets out the most contented sounding sigh when your body involuntarily shudders from it. This has got you starting to think that you may have read this crazy perv all wrong.

He’s a perv but maybe not the type you thought.

What he’s doing is so unbelievably tender and loving that it has you trembling from head to toe and incidentally not just from fear.

“Dolores, please forgive me.”

Again, he’s not talking to you, that much is very clear.

After saying that, he stops with the kisses, his body motionless as he clings to you like his life depends on it.

After a few minutes of nothing but the sound of his steady breathing, you know that he is fully out again. 

To the feel of his chest rising and falling against your side, you start to work your wrists free again.

-------------------------

Thanks for reading.

(Chapter four, coming soon...)

If you are hungry for more, faster than I post it here, find this and my other Five stories at the first link below or visit my Blog to see all my Tumblr posts:

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Arrow of Time- [Five Hargreeves x F Reader]. Chapter 2 (Hard Feelings Part 5)

SUMMARY: When the mother of all teenage tantrums causes time itself to fracture, Five has to travel back to 1831 to repair the damage. But will he be able to cope with what he finds there? On to Chapter 3 >> << Back to Chapter 1

Aoife cheats on her math test...with disastrous results.

Blue balls for Five ahead.

Chapter 2: The Bike Shorts

When you enter the bedroom, Five’s lying on top of the sheets, still in his cycling gear (minus the helmet).He looks almost entirely calm now, chest rising and falling only slightly harder than usual. He flashes you his most charming smile, however, patting the bed beside him. 

“Aoife ok?” he asks.

“Fine. Back to rolling her eyes.”

“Good,” he grins up at you, “well that was a shitshow.”

You flop down next to him and melt into his embrace.

“What brought it on?”

“It was stupid. I rode past the Argyle Public Library.” he runs his fingers through his hair, “it’s been demolished.”

“Oh.”

You understand immediately. It had been his and Dolores’ home base, enough of the internal structure left standing to provide them with shelter to sleep. It had been the closest thing he’d had to a home for him for forty years: the longest he’d ever lived anywhere.

“Wanna know something funny? They must be halfway through: the way they pulled it down, it looked exactly the same. The same parts were left standing.” a bitter smile pulled at one corner of his mouth, “the more things change, the more they stay the same.”

You know his mind now almost as intimately as your own: he’s not just talking about the way the two timelines rhyme.

“It’s been ten years since I had a freakout like that,” he says, resentfully. “I been to therapy every two weeks minimum , I take the damn pills religiously and still I lose my ever-loving shit over a building.”

You ease his hand out of the fist he’s screwed it into. You take a breath to respond to him but he plows over you.

“And I know what you’re going to say: the state I was in when we got together, it’s amazing that I haven’t had a major freakout for ten years. Maybe if I weren’t taking the pills, I’d be losing my mind every damn day, and I know therapy isn’t a cure-all, it just helps you work with what you got but…”

He pauses for a second, frustration on hold as his conscious mind catches up with what he’s said. Then he gives a rough laugh.

“And you’d be right,” he rolls to face you, smiling genuinely now.

“You said it all for me,” you shrug, smiling back at him.

The realization seems to have bolstered him:

“So, all in all, I give myself five stars for that panic attack. Threw it off like a champ.”

“You did,” you smile, leaning over and kissing his lips gently.

He’s always thought you have the sweetest lips. Maddening, in fact.

Even after all these years, the lines of your body are still the delight of his eye, particularly the ones that have developed since you’ve been with him. Everything you’d tell yourself is imperfection is, for him, just another object of devotion. After all, the stretch marks, wrinkles and reduced elasticity are all products of the fifteen years you’ve given to him: sixteen Christmases; fifteen fourth of Julys; fifteen whole trips around the sun that you chose to spend with him when you should have run a mile right at the start. 

He wants to celebrate that, wants to love you physically and worship your body with his.

The kiss you give him is only just beyond a peck, but he leans into your perfect mouth and works his way between your lips. You pull away before he’s half done. 

Honestly…it’s been a while. He’s kept his frustration quiet: work has been troubling you. It’s fine: it’s just a matter of feeling stressed on top of getting a little older. He knows it’s not because you love him any less…academically, at least. He can take care of himself ok and even if you never had sex ever again that’s perfectly fine: he’s in this for the long haul, no matter what. 

He’d cope…he’d adapt. He’d find a way to not ogle you, mouth dry, every time you get undressed. He’d spent most of his life having, (with all respect to his first long-term partner), sub-optimal sex. Now he’s had fifteen years of amazing sex, it’s almost unbearable to imagine having to just  ‘make do’ again. But he will if he needs to. 

He hates feeling needy. It’s a form of vulnerability he’s not yet able to reconcile in himself. It doesn’t feel so long ago but he remembers how you used to look up at him with needy eyes… Maybe tonight can break the dry spell.

“Say…how about you and I…”

You look at him with amusement, “Really, Five?”

“Come on….” he adjusts his body so he’s leant against the headboard and you can see his hand skimming down his body towards his crotch, “you know you like the bike shorts.”

“You’re seriously going straight from a major panic attack to horny?”

In answer, ghosts his fingers over his package. The shorts certainly are tight… Were you in the mood, something about them would make you want to reach in there and root around to see what you can find. They cling attractively in all the right places, stopping an inch or so above the knee. As if his bulge wasn’t enough, the way they sculpt themselves around his muscled thighs and perfectly peachy ass is…noticeable, to say the least.

“I’m a little tired.” you say, not wanting to burst his bubble but hoping he’ll take the hint. 

“I can be quick,” he says, trying to keep the slight plea out of his voice, “you could call me daddy again, if you want. Aoife hasn’t called me that in years now.”

“Nice try, Five,” you smirk, “maybe next time.”

“Oh, I’m not trying,” he says, rising to a kneel, turning and straddling your thighs, “I’m succeeding.”

He’s half-joking but nevertheless trying his luck, deliberately raising a rock-hard tent beneath his hand. Then, he rises on the bed into a high kneel.

Even in your totally unaroused state, the look he fixes you with almost makes you feel like a hooked fish being reeled in. He looms over you, head tilted and arrogant smirk firmly in place. He looks down his long nose as he paws at his boner, circling his hips. The shorts really are obscene. They would only have to be one iota tighter for them to cling to every single vein on his fit-to-burst shaft. As it stands, the lycra outlines the bell-shaped tip of his cock in minute anatomical detail.

It's a beguiling sight, but not beguiling enough.

“You’re still one hot grandpa but I’m sorry, I’m really not feeling it.”

He gives a small smile of acceptance and kisses your forehead before he swings his leg over and gets off you, heading for the ensuite bathroom.

“I’ll take care of myself,” he says as he peels off his cycling gear.. Then, in a final bid, he adds, “guess I’ll have to take a shower, lather up real good, lean up against the tiles and whack myself off with the suds…”

“Yeah, guess you will.” you say, picking up your reading glasses and the book off your nightstand. 

Five stifles a sigh and enters the bathroom; boner leading the way like a perky seeing-eye-dog. As he shuts and locks the door behind him, he leans against it.  It looks like it’s another night of jacking himself off into the shower tray. He tries not to feel hurt, tries to keep in mind all the reasonable thoughts from before. The humiliation of trying so hard only to be rejected? Rejected kindly, lovingly, but still rejected. He’s not going to degrade himself so far as to beg for sex. He’ll never be that pathetic. 

Thank god for his left hand: it’s been there for him for nearly 80 years now and it’s always in the mood whenever he is.

The Trevor Dalton school covers PreK through to 12th grade. You’d initially felt conflicted about sending Aoife to private school but, for Five, only the best education money could buy would do for his daughter, regardless of your ‘commie bullshit’. You couldn’t help but agree emotionally; she deserved the best.

Overall, you’d been pleased with her progress: she had a firm group of friends and she enjoyed her extracurriculars- particularly band. Despite this, her math scores worried you both. Though Five had taken to tutoring her himself, she was showing little improvement in school. You’d both been pleased, therefore, to see how much time Aoife had spent holed up in her room studying for an upcoming math test.

Aoife certainly has been studying for her math test…just not in the way you and Five might think. She’s been practicing religiously every night before sleep. Every time, her temporal jumps are getting longer and without the need for all that stupid math. Last night, she managed to reverse an entire hour without even turning a hair. She can do it quickly too- she doesn’t have to force herself through the seconds like her dad seems to: she can just do it. He won’t know what’s hit him when she shows him what she knows. 

Were she to sit down and analyze her feelings, she’d be unsure precisely why she wants this so much, whether she wants to make him proud or piss him off. Most of all, she wants to prove that she’s not a baby. All she can do is imagine the look in his eyes when she jumps through time with him along for the ride.

The math test will be her first time using her skills in the real world. She never blinked at school, (she’d learned early on that letting too many people in on the fact you have superpowers doesn’t end well) but jumping through time was different: when you went backwards, you’d erase anyone’s memory that you’d done anything unusual.

The test was in-class, and Aoife had taken care to discover the format before the big day. Mr Douglas would put the questions up on the board, the class would have thirty minutes to answer the questions and then, at the end, they would pass their answers to another student to mark and he would reveal the answers.

Sitting at her desk now, she’s full to bursting with nervous excitement. She can barely concentrate during the test, (not that she needs to), but she fills in stuff anyway. When Mr Douglas calls time and reveals the answers, she’s trembling so much that she’s surprised nobody’s noticed.

She passes her piece of paper to Izzie seated behind her and takes Jack’s from up ahead. Ignoring his paper, she grabs a fresh sheet of her own and begins to write down the right answers. This is what she’ll hand in…now she just has to make sure that this piece of paper is the one she passes to Izzie.

Holding her correct answers in one hand to exempt it from the reversal of time, she reaches easily into the abyss. It’s second nature now; couldn’t be any easier. It’s cool to watch. Alone in her bedroom, it was hard to see the effects; it's different in a crowded classroom. Jack’s pen reverses, going from right to left; eventually, he turns and takes his test back from her desk while Izzie hands Aoife’s over her shoulder. This, Aoife screws into a ball and drops into her backpack. The answers on the smartboard disappear as Mr Douglas moonwalks into his chair and the booger Kevin Simmons flicked across the room returns to his finger and he places it back up his nose.

Aoife lets go. Only somebody watching her closely would notice her jolt.

“And that’s time,” said Mr Douglas, “pass your test to the lady or gentlemen behind you. Ladies and Gentlemen at the back, bring your tests to the front of your row.”

Grinning all over her face, Aoife passes her new answers to Izzie.

Five spent most of the day with Luther who, for once in his life, has had a brain wave.

They’d been in Five’s bedroom, using the huge dry-erase and a plethora of colored post-its to plot out his idea: a non profit focused on helping male survivors of sexual violence. 

Five helped mainly out of solitarily with Luther: arranging support groups and having to break the ice with the story of his own rape wasn’t exactly appealing, but Luther’s bright blue eyes were so alight at the the possible scope of the idea (that he dubbed ‘The Umbrella Foundation’), that Five was willing to put his misgivings aside for now. He'd suck it up if he had to. 

When Aoife gets home from school she barrels into the room when he and Luther still stand, contemplating the timelines and tenuous organizational structure they’ve drafted. 

After a quick hug for Luther, she passes Five her test and smiles coyly at him. 

“What’s this?” he says, smiling back.

“Unfold it and see!”

He does so and his eyes light up, even as he affects to look casual. He stands with one hand in his pants pocket and his hips loose

“An A+? Jeez, where was this the other day? And not a single wrong answer?”

“You’re surprised, right?” she smiles up at him

“Surprised? Proud is what I am.”

He grins and pulls her into a full hug which she, for once, reciprocates.

“Ben fatto, tesoro. Hai lavorato sodo.”

“ Grazie papa.”

She has worked hard for this. Maybe he wouldn’t think of it that way, but she has.

“Well done sweetheart.” smiles Luther, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“You see what you can do when you set your mind to it?” says Five, kissing her forehead and holdung her at arm’s length, “How about I take you out this weekend? Maybe we take Izzie too? What do thirteen-year-old girls do these days? The...mall or whatever?”

Aoife snorts laughter at this, “yeah sure Dad, we’ll go to the mall.”

“Well I don’t know what you guys like to do. You’re the first teen girl I’ve spoken to for fifty-five years!”

Five’s never sure why, but he never feels as old around anyone as he does his daughter. Despite speaking seven languages, Teen Girl is one he can’t get his head around.

When Aoife bounds out of the room again, Luther turns to Five with a significant look on his face.

“She just runs into your bedroom...without knocking?”

Five knows exactly what he’s referring to. 

“Yes,” he says, testily before looking sidelong at Luther and lowering his voice, “not exactly much for her to walk in on these days.”

Luther gives him a sympathetic look and turns back to the dry erase.

When you arrive home, long after Luther’s drifted downstairs, you’re instantly more skeptical than Five. To go from a D+ average to an A+ with no steps between? You smell bullshit. Perhaps it’s a fluke…but something about the way Aoife shows you the test sets off warning bells in your head. You don’t want to accuse her if this really is the product of hard work, but you’re worried you’ll have to. While she practices the drums after dinner and you sit with Five on the couch, already feeling guilty about raining on his parade.

“This math test…pretty surprising, right?”

From the tone of your voice, he immediately realizes your implication. Fifteen years of a relationship has given you so many little shorthands and layers of implication that would be lost on others. The line between his eyebrows deepens as he considers.

“You think she cheated?”

“I don’t know, but it seems a bit too good to be true. When her homework’s been so poor and she could barely do simple algebra last week?”

His lips pull inwards. He’s by nature a rather cynical man, tending to believe the worst in people until they prove him wrong, but he has a blind spot the size of Jupiter when it comes to his daughter.

“She knows how important it is that she learns. She wouldn’t mislead me.”

Really Five? You raise your eyebrows at him incredulously.

“She’s a teen. Pushing boundaries and lying to their parents is what they do.”

His scowl deepens, “I still don’t think she’d lie about this.”

You sigh.

“Well, I’m going to go talk to her. You’re telling me she didn’t seem weird to you? Like she’s got a huge secret?” 

He nods slowly, considering. 

“Do you remember when she was six and stockpiling candy under her bed? She was pulling the exact same face.”

Reluctantly, Five follows you as you knock at her bedroom door. It’s amazing she hears you over her drumming, but she does. When you both walk into the room together, she stiffens and puts down her drumsticks

“Hey honey,” you say, Five at your shoulder but skulking slightly behind, “we just wanted to have a talk.”

“What about?” she says, too quickly. She’s immediately on the defense and even Five notices.

“Well, we were just talking, and we’re concerned.” you cross to the bed and sit down on it, trying to appear less threatening. Five remains standing, hands (as ever) in his pockets and head tilted. You catch his eye and prompt him.

“Did you cheat on that test?”

Great job Five. Subtle as a flying brick.

Immediately she looks panicked.

“No!”

“Just tell us the truth and we won’t be mad," you say, trying to keep your voice calm.

“I said I didn’t!” she snaps, firing up immediately.

You move to placate her: it suddenly strikes you how unjust this would be if she actually did earn her score.

“I know you’ve been studying this week and if you’ve got this score because you’ve worked your butt off then we couldn’t be more proud of you, it’s just…my Mom senses are tingling. I know when you’re hiding something.”

“I’m not!”

“Okay,” says Five, stepping forward and grabbing a notebook and pen from within his jacket pocket. He scribbles rapidly and then slaps both down on her dressing table.

“How about you prove it? Expand this.”

He looks more pissed than she’s ever seen him directed at her. Feeling a mixture of shame, anger and injustice Aoife stands and approaches looking down at the scrawled problem:

5(12c + 7) - (1 - 55c)

There it is. The familiar panic that sets in when she encounters numbers in almost any context. She picks up the pen. She knows where to start but when she tries to perform the expansion, it’s like her brain crashes. She tries to concentrate and can’t…especially with both of them staring down at her.

“That’s way too hard!” she whines, “I can’t do that one. The test was easier. You just make them way too complex because your brain is all weird about math.”

“Oh, well that's interesting.” Five’s voice is dangerous- almost a whisper. “Now I know you’re bullshitting me. Wanna take a quick guess how?”

She doesn’t answer, even when he jerks his head towards her.

“No answer, eh?” he turns from her to you, “Do you want to know how I know she’s bullshitting us, Mom?”

You frown in slight disapproval of this theater, but it’s about time Five stepped up to be the bad guy so you keep your mouth shut. He turns back to Aoife, teeth slightly bared,

“That was a question ON the test, genius.”

Her face heats up and eyes prickle. Five just gives a disdainful scoff, shakes his head and looks away from her.

“Tell us the truth, Aoife,” you say, sternly, trying to keep your own temper under control, “you cheated, didn’t you?”

She turns to you and stamps her foot in a way you haven’t seen since she was six, “Just shut up Mom!”

As Five gives a sharp reprimand for her speaking to you that way, you speak over him,

“First you cheat and then you keep denying it? You’re still lying. I’m so disappointed that you’d be this dishonest.You’ve not just cheated us, you’ve cheated your classmates and you’ve cheated yourself too!”

Suddenly, Five turns back to her, shoulders rolled and hunched in the awful posture he adopts when stressed or angry.

“You know, I couldn’t give a rat's ass that you cheated. I’m just still trying to get my head around the fact you lied to me about this !” he begins to pace distractedly, “you know how important it is that you UNDERSTAND basic mathematical principles. It’s a matter of life and death! ”

You turn to Five, angry with him now.

“So you don’t care that she lied at school, only to you?”

Five tosses his head and returns his gaze to his daughter standing between the pair of you. Hormonal rage courses through her. Right now, she’s as erratic as Five ever was in his prime.

“I don’t even need math to be able to use my powers! It’s not my fault your head’s so far up your own ass that you can’t jump a few minutes without filling a whole wall with equations!”

“Aoife!” you rebuke, shocked by this attitude towards her father, but she ignores you.

“I did cheat, okay? And you wanna know how I did it? I just wound back time-”

Five blinks at her, dumbstruck. He looks as if he’s been clubbed over the head.

“-and you know what, Dad? I’m still here. I didn’t end up years in the future and get stuck there like a dumbass! ”

You spring up from the bed, grab her shoulders and turn her to face you. Her eyes are wild with anger, face red and teeth bared even more than Five’s had been only a minute or so before.

“How can you speak to your Dad like that? How dare you? After-”

But the rage that’s been building in her bubbles over. All she wants is for you both to get out of her room. You think just because you’re her parents that you know better? You don’t: you especially don’t get it. Always so far up your own ass, judging her for every time she falls under your ridiculously high moral standards. Nothing short of sainthood is good enough for you.

She can feel full-body tingles growing as anger descends over her. It makes her grab your forearms. If she’d been less angry, she might have noticed the crackle of electricity or the feeling of polarity accessed in her mind…the feeling of the last jigsaw piece slipping into place…

“JUST GET AWAY FROM ME, MOM!”

…but the whole puzzle explodes as she pushes you abruptly. She only means to shove you in the direction of the door, but the portal that erupts swallows you whole, collapsing in on itself before you can even stumble.

Tag list: (please comment to be added or removed.) @dilfjohhny , @sunsunhe, @w4stedtr4sh, @nevbrooke-555, @theredvelvetbitch, @td-miley01, @five-hxrgreeves, @rorygi1more, @jamiebower88

On to Chapter 3 >> Masterpost

Alternatively, join me on A03.  Here is a link to the whole series

#the umbrella academy smut #the umbrella academy five #the umbrella academy imagine #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy x reader #umbrella academy #umbrella academy smut #umbrella academy number five #umbrella academy five x oc #number five imagine #five hargreeves smut #five hargreeves imagine #number five smut #number 5 imagine #number 5 #fanfic #ao3 writer #tua fanfic #umbrella academy fanfic #five hargreaves x oc #number 5 x oc #hard feelings #Arrow of time

[linzzey]

ben is so hot in the new season, cant wait to imagine him using his tentacles to fuck us dumb😫 

#umbrella academy #umbrella academy season 3 #umbrella academy x reader #sparrow academy #pls #monster fucking #x reader #help #sparrow academy x reader #ben hargreeves x reader #umbrella academy smut #ben hargreeves smut

[lovewheeler]

jayme hargreeves is a selfish lover. she doesn’t give, and nothing about her is gentle, not unless she wants to be. everything between you two is on her terms, never yours, and that’s why her past relationships (and hookups) had never lasted. they couldn’t handle it.

she’s never known true affection, hardly ever from her family, and she’s certainly never been known to give it. jayme doesn’t know what it’s like, doesn’t know what that love is, if not transactional.

but she swears the closest she gets to it is the feeling in her tummy when she hears your moans, feels the burn in her scalp from your fingers tugging on dark strands. when you whine and keen and pull her closer into your cunt while simultaneously screaming that it’s too much.

you follow her like she’s your god, and in her twisted mind she believes that that has to be what love truly is.

really, jayme is selfish, she knows it. and you stay, because you love it. she knows that too.

#umbrella academy smut #umbrella academy x reader #jayme hargreeves smut #jayme hargreeves x reader #jayme hargreeves #short blurb bc she has overtaken my mind space

[knowbodytoldmethat]

Play You Like a Violin

Warnings: Bad writing, smut. Minors DNI

Request from anonymous: viktor hargreeves smut with an afab reader??? it can be gn or fem reader idc, but can viktor wear one of these dildos made for people to fuck?

Paring: Viktor Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Viktor's arms were around your waist the moment you shut the door to your shared apartment. He kissed the back of your neck and nipped at the lobe of your ear as something hard pressed against your ass,

"Are you happy to see me?" You asked with a laugh as he spun you around to place a heated kiss on your lips with the black dildo that had been strapped around his waist pressing into your stomach,

"Really happy to see you," He murmured while pressing his lips to your cheek to trail down to your neck.

Viktor's teeth grazed your skin before tugging at the collar of your jacket and shirt to reveal the junction of your neck and shoulder. He suctioned on with his mouth and started to leave a hickey as you shuddered with a moan. His hands were roaming your body, shoving under your shirt and wrapping around your waist to give your ass a squeeze.

He pulled away at the gasp you let out, grinning at the way you arched your back to press into his hand. Viktor then tugged at your shirt and jacket, throwing them to the floor so his hands could cup your chest through your bra.

You began tugging at the buttons on his shirt, pushing them through their holes to expose the expanse of his pale skin.

His hands were hesitating at the clasp of your bra and Viktor pulled back far enough to silently ask if it was alright for him to take it off. You leaned down toward him, brushing your noses together as you nodded before lacing your fingers through his short hair as his deft fingers pulled the offending garment off of your body.

Viktor began placing soft kisses on your chest, occasionally nipping at the skin while gently running his thumbs across your nipples. The gentle stimulation was wonderful and did the job of getting you wet at your core, but it left you wanting more!

You spread your legs which allowed him to press the dildo against your clothed center. You ground down on the silicone piece with a whimper,

"Viktor!" He began walking backward with his arms around your waist.

The two of you were now in front of the couch, your mouths were pressing against each other in a heated passion as Viktor's hands tugged at your pants. When the article of clothing was shoved down and hanging around one of your ankles, Viktor gently pushed you down.

He positioned himself between your legs and mouthed at your underwear, grinning at the wetness on his tongue before removing them. The dildo was pressed against the seam of your core as Viktor hovered over you, his lips merely centimeters from yours as he asked while gently caressing your face,

"Are you ready?"

You nodded, "Please, Viktor? Please, I need you inside of me!"

"Okay," He kissed you gently while reaching down to position the dildo's engorged head at your entrance and slowly pushed inside.

Your back arched with a gasp as you stretched around it, as it filled you to the brim. Viktor gave you a moment to adjust before moving his hips and began thrusting inside of you. It started out gentle, then Viktor began to pick up the pace.

You could feel him deep inside you, hitting that sweet spot that made your vision swim with pleasure.

Viktor's lips had found your neck as one of his hands gripped one of your breasts before moving down your body. He found your clit and began rubbing the hardened nub, smiling at the gasps that were falling from your mouth as your hands gripped his shoulders. Viktor felt your legs lock behind his back as your hips began canting upward to meet his thrusts,

"Viktor! Viktor I-I'm-" You cut off with a shudder and a moan as your nails dug into his shoulders. Viktor continued fucking you through the waves of your orgasm until you were whimpering from oversensitiviety.

He pulled out and quickly unstrapped himself from the dildo and set it on the floor to be picked up later. Viktor then laid down beside your on the couch, your legs tangling together as your head rested on his chest,

"Told you I was happy to see you," He murmured while pressing soft kisses to your hair as you whispered,

"Never said you weren't," And began kissing his chest as your hand began trailing down his body to rest against his waist, "May I return the favor?"

#umbrella acedmy #viktor hargreeves x reader #viktor hargreeves #viktor hargreeves smut #umbrella academy x reader #umbrella academy smut

[jhopezwrld]

archived works

THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY

DIEGO HARGREEVES

(hc) nsfw headcanons

(drabble) fluff + smut w/ diego

(hc) diego x plus sized!reader

KLAUS HARGREEVES

(hc) nsfw headcanons

#umbrella academy imagines #umbrella academy smut #Diego Hargreeves imagines #Diego Hargreeves smut #Klaus hargreeves imagines #Klaus hargreeves smut #archived #vampjoons #jhopezwrld #my writing #masterlist

[hihomeghere]

Carousel Club | Five Hargreeves / Reader

Word Count : 3k Summary : After being dropped into 1963, you find work at the Carousel Club as a dancer. While following a tip where Luther could be, Five sees your routine. Overwhelmed by jealousy he sneaks into your dressing room. (I do not own the umbrella academy or any of it's characters.) Warnings/Tags : Smut, cursing, piv, men being sexist (its the 1960s what do you expect?) dom!Five, Aged up!Five. A little bit of angst. Not requested.

You always trusted your husband. He was your constant in a very fucked up world. You knew he would never purposely harm you, or put you in harm's way. Sometimes that meant following him through time and space, other times it meant trusting him to not burn your dinner. So when he said he had a way out of the mess you and your in-laws had caused, of course you trusted him wholeheartedly. 

You grasped Five’s hand tightly in your own, feeling a sense of deja-vu from the last time you two tried to spacial jump. Diego gingerly held your other hand, you looked up at him giving him a curt nod. He returned the nod before looking around at the rest of his siblings. You raised your eyes to the gaping hole in the ceiling, the intricate details of the theater framing the crumbling moon. Five squeezed your hand, drawing your attention back to him. You gave him a reassuring smile, well as reassuring as you could.

Electricity crackled around the seven of you, wind whipping your hair in front of your face. Five’s grip on your hand was almost crushing, like you were his lifeline. A giant blue orb of energy appeared above your family, growing and glowing. Five strained under the pressure, his face contorting into a pained expression. The blue light enveloped you all, flickering and pulsing. 

“Hold on! It’s gonna get messy!” Five yelled as the ground shook beneath you, shutting your eyes tightly you felt yourself being pulled away from Five and Diego. You only had a moment of panic before you were thrown to the ground.

You groaned sitting up, the blue light of energy blinding you. You raised your hand shielding your eyes.

“Five!” You yelled as you got to your feet. As fleeting as the orb had appeared it disappeared, as though someone had turned an old tv off. Was that a flash, or just your imagination? You shook your head, taking in your surroundings. No Five, no siblings, no briefcase. Where the hell were you? 

You wandered down the alleyway to the main street. Your hip twinged in pain after taking the brunt of your fall. You looked around the street, the lampposts and storefront neon signs were your only light source. You sank down on a bench, letting out a deep sigh. Your eyes wandered to a newsrack, you quickly got to your feet. You ran to it, holding the sides of the glass case. 

August 1st, 1963. Dallas, Texas.

Your heart leapt into your throat. Damn it, Five. Shit, Alison. God, where were the rest of Five’s siblings?

“Honey, are you alright?” A soft voice asked, you turned your head sharply. You were met by a sweet woman’s face, big blond hair and bangs. She had a cardigan wrapped tightly around herself as she reached out to touch your shoulder. You shook your head, still coming to terms with the last five minutes. “Come on, I’m just about to go get something to eat, why don’t you join me?” She said, smiling sweetly.

“I-” You cleared your throat, “I don’t have any money.” You said, shaking your head. “Well then my treat.” She said helping you to your feet. You followed the woman down the streets of Dallas to a quaint diner. You sat down across from her, taking a look over the menu. People chattered mindlessly around you as you came to terms with your situation.

“I’ve seen that look before.” She said, setting her menu down on the table. 

“What look?” You said furrowing your eyebrows.

“That look. Every girl I work with has had that same look.” She huffed thanking the waiter as he set down a coffee cup in front of her. “Small girl in the big city, not knowing where you’re gonna stay or what you’re gonna eat. Believe me, I’ve seen that look before because I’ve felt that before.” She said reaching across the table, taking your hand in hers. “So what’s your story, sweetheart?” You took a breath, choosing your next words carefully.

“My husband and I got separated.” You whispered, “My parents didn’t agree with our marriage and so we ran away. He was supposed to meet me here in Dallas but he didn’t show.” You said, not technically a lie, Five was supposed to be here with you.

“Oh dear,” She tsked, “well you do not have to worry about that anymore. I’m so glad I found you! You can stay with me until you get back on your feet.” You smiled, hopefully Five wouldn’t make you wait much longer. 

“Thank you…” You trailed off, realizing you hadn’t caught her name.

“Autumn.” She answered, holding out her hand for you to shake.

“I’m Y/n.” You smiled, taking her hand.

“You know Y/n, I could put in a good word for you with my boss. He may seem a bit rough around the edges, but we’re always short staffed.” She shrugged. Whatever the job was you would only have it for hopefully a week tops before Five caught up with you, along with his siblings.

“I appreciate it Autumn.” You smiled, patting her hand.

-

When you arrived at Autumn's place of work you wondered if you were a little over your head. You followed Autumn into the back entrance of the nightclub. You passed by many half dressed women, putting on their makeup and outfits. 

“This way sweetheart!” Autumn called, you picked up your pace following her through the dressing room. Once on the main floor of the club you were greeted by the intense smell of cigars. Autumn had all but disappeared, you wandered through the tables. Trying to work your way to the front of the club, while also trying to avoid the men’s wandering hands at the tables. 

“Y/n!” She called from a table, you turned your head. The club was familiar, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. You were face to face with Jack Ruby, the man who would put the hit out on Lee Harvey Oswald. You gulped, straightening your shoulders you walked over to them.

“Mr. Ruby, this is Y/n she’s looking for a job.” Autumn said, clasping her hands together. Jack looked you over, a cigar dangling from his lips. 

“Y/n who?” He said leaning back in his chair. You stuttered but only for a second.

“Y/n L/n,” You said with a smile, Hargreeves might get Five or your in-laws in trouble if anyone here caught wind of that name. He puffed his cigar, leaning over to whisper something to the man next to him. He chuckled before nodding, you bit your cheek. Feeling like a piece of meat in front of these men.

“Can you start tonight?” He said, lacing his fingers together. 

“Of course.” You replied, Autumn cheered quietly beside Mr. Ruby.

“Autumn, be a dear and show her the dressing rooms. Tell ‘em I want Miss Y/n to be on stage by tomorrow night.” He said motioning with his cigar in hand. On stage? You turned sharply looking toward the stage of the nightclub, scantily clad women fanning themselves with large feather fans. 

“Yes sir Mr. Ruby!” Autumn giggled, taking your arm and walking you towards the back.

-

You sat in front of your vanity, lined by bright golden bulbs. Brushing glitter onto your eyes before adding your long eyelashes. It had been three months since you had taken on your new job, along the way you had made many friends. You felt for all the girls alongside you, it was a rough profession but it paid well. You pulled your robe close around your body, walking over to the clothing rack. You rifled through the sheer jeweled fabric before your eyes landed on the black and white body suit. You threw your outfit over your arm heading back to your vanity. You were greeted by a beautiful bouquet of red roses, Autumn standing next to them with a coy smile.

“Autumn! Who are these from?”

“A secret admirer,” she cooed her bright red lips pulling back into a smile, “Just teasing! It’s from all of us girls here,” She said as she rushed forward, wrapping her arms around your shoulders. Her cheap perfume floods your senses along with her sweet sweat.

“Y’all didn’t have to do that!” You smiled as she pulled away, she only waved you off.

“You’re one of the best here! Don’t know where you learned all your little tricks.” She said bumping your elbow with her own. She looked down at your costume in your arms. “Need help?” Autumn asked, holding out her hand. 

“Yes please.” You said handing her your suit as you lowered your robe. You held onto her shoulders stepping into the suit, you adjusted your straps as Autumn tightened your corset. You admired yourself in the mirror, since taking on your new job you had become more toned. More than when you had worked at the commission, and these clothes were definitely more flattering than your blue suits you used to wear. You took in a sharp breath as Autumn pulled through the last loops, tying the ribbon with a neat bow.

“Alright sister, you’re ready.” She said squeezing your shoulders.

“Thanks Autumn, now go take your break!” You said waving her off. 

“Y/n! You’re on next!” Shannon called from the stage door. You nodded, quickly stopping to smell the sweet scent of your roses before grabbing your tulle skirt. You tied it around your waist as you walked backstage. You picked up your red feather fans, taking a deep breath. You walked up to the closed red curtains listening to the deafening cheers and whistles. You heard the clink of the ropes being pulled back before you were blinded by the spotlights. You closed your eyes, bowing your head, your body covered by the bright red fans. 

You started your routine, swaying your hips seductively as you pulled the fans back away from your body teasing the audience. You lost yourself in the music, thankfully it was difficult to decipher anyone’s face over the shadows cast by the spotlights. You unclipped the tulle skirt, throwing it off stage. You could make out a certain group of sailors, and a rather large man standing by the bar. 

You teased the audience, covering your body with the fans before flashing them a glimpse of your shimmering body suit. You pulled the fans over your head, rotating your hips in a circular motion as you lowered into a squat. You bounced on your heels before jumping back up to your feet. You smirked as the men whistled and cheered. 

The music slowed, and faded out as you walked behind the red curtain. You dropped off your fans before heading back to your dressing room. You opened the door, shutting it behind you. 

“Who sent the roses?” Five’s voice sent a shiver down your spine. You turned your head sharply, meeting Five’s predatory gaze.

“Five!” You gasped, your heart soaring in your chest. “When did you get here?” 

“I could ask you the same thing.” He said, crossing his arms. Your smile fell off your face, what was his problem? It’s not your fault that he dropped you off in the middle of 1963 with no resources. 

“Three months ago.” You said furrowing your brows, “I’ve been looking for you this whole time!” He scoffed, clicking his tongue.

“Oh really? It looks like you’ve been getting enough attention without me.” He huffed, glaring at the bouquet of roses.

“Excuse me for finding a way to survive here.” You spit pushing past him, knocking his shoulder against yours. You took a seat in front of your vanity, pulling out your makeup kit. He stalked up behind you, towering over you. He gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him through the mirror, effectively smearing your bright red lipstick.

“You’re mine.” He sneered, his lips pulling back over his teeth. You flushed, heat pooling in your core. You stared up at him through the mirror, his fingers squeezing your lips together. “Got it?” He asked. You glared at him, a devilish thought entering your mind. 

You kept quiet, smirking as you watched a shadow pass over his features. He clenched his jaw, shaking his head as he tilted your head to look him in the eye.

“You must need a lesson.” He smirked, pulling you to your feet, you stumbled slightly in your heels. He kicked the chair away, you jumped as it thudded against the carpeted floor. His arm moved behind you, sweeping everything off of your vanity along with the roses. They crashed to the floor, the vase shattering. He pushed you against the vanity, caging you in with his arms as he slammed his hands against the mirror. He stared down at you with a wolfish grin, you felt yourself flush. Your heart started to beat faster as you squirmed under him.

“Yes sir.” You said tilting your chin up, staring at him through your lashes. He growled spinning you around, your hands splayed out in front of you on the top of the vanity. His hand connected to your ass cheek, letting out a low chuckle as you gasped. He moved your hair off of your back, his cold fingers attacking the strings of your corset. 

“Stupid- fucking- ribbon-“ he said through gritted teeth, you caught the slightly crazed look in his eye through the reflection. Your body felt on fire, three months without him made every touch that more exhilarating. As soon as the corset was loose enough he was ripping it off of your body, along with your panties. You were entirely bare in front of your fully dressed husband. He stepped back, loosening his tie as he watched you squirm in the mirror. 

“Not so confident now, dearest.” He smirked, unbuttoning the top button of his dress shirt. You breathed hard, adrenaline rushing through your veins. Your nipples hardened against the cold air in the dressing room. You heard the familiar metal on metal as he took off his belt before unzipping his pants. He walked up behind you, nosing his dick against your folds. You clenched around nothing, pushing back against him. His hand came up to the back of your skull, wrapping his fist through your hair. He stared at you through his darkened gaze, you were breathless, your lips parting slightly.

“Please,” you whined, batting your eyelashes. He forcibly thrusted all the way in, knocking the breath out of your lungs. You let out a pornagraphic moan before you covered your mouth with your hand. He grabbed your hand, pulling it away from your mouth and holding it behind your back.

“Why don’t you let everyone here know who you belong to?” He huffed in your ear, thrusting erratically into you. You gripped the desk, the only thing holding you up as Five plowed into you. “Let them know that I’m the only one who gets to fuck you like this.” You clenched around him as his words seemed to straight directly to your core. He let out a groan, loosening his grip on your hair. “Fuck you like this don’t you?” You nodded enthusiastically, your eyes rolling back into your head as his cock prodded against your g-spot.

“Yes, yes Five!” You babbled tears pricking your eyes, as he bent you over the desk. His hands flew to your hips, pulling them against his own thrusts. You could only lay there as your orgasm came crashing down. You were thankful you were on top of the vanity because there was no way your trembling legs would have been able to hold you up. 

Five’s eyebrows knit together as he arched his neck back, his hips stuttering as his orgasm quickly followed yours. Cumming with a loud shout he collapsed on top of you, your sweat causing his thin shirt to stick to your skin. He pulsed inside of you as he gingerly tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. He pulled away, peeling himself off of you. He kissed your shoulder as his softened cock slipped out of you. Your breathing was slowly coming back to normal as he tried to return your room to the state it was before he had destroyed it and you. He picked up your robe draping it over your shoulders. You sat up, feeling his cum start to drip down your thighs.

“What took you so long?” You asked, tying your robe close around your naked body.

“I just got here.” He sighed, tucking himself back into his pants. “I’m sorry I made you wait.” He turned to you, brushing his thumb over your cheek.

“I’ll always wait for you.” You sighed, wrapping your arms around his waist. He held you against his chest, resting his cheek against yours.

“At least someone will, Luther and Diego weren’t too happy about me dumping them in the past.” Five sighed. Diego and Luther were here, too?

“Where are they?” You asked, turning to Five with wide eyes. Five looked at you inquisitively, a small smile pulling on the corner of his mouth.

“Luther works for Jack Ruby, y/n. I found him in this club before I knew you worked here.” Your stomach dropped. Luther worked for Jack Ruby? That means he must have seen your numbers.

“Oh god.” You said mortified, hanging your head against Five’s chest. He chuckled, shaking his head as he lightly rubbed your back.

“Believe me, he was just as mortified as you are.” He said, “Although I must say I thoroughly enjoyed your routine.” He lowered his voice, his hands trailing down your body to rest on your butt.

“I think I could give you a private showing.” You smirked, wrapping your hand around his tie. You pulled him forward by his tie, smashing your lips against his. His hands gripped your hips, the velvety fabric smooth against his palms. 

“God I’d love that,” He let out a sigh, “but maybe we should wait until after we save the world.” 

Again? It was happening again?

“Vanya?” You asked, pulling away.

“Your guess is as good as mine.” He shrugged, “All I know is on November 25th the world ends, again.” 

“Guess it’s time for a family reunion.”

#the umbrella academy #tua #five hargreeves #five x reader #five hargreeves smut #five hargreaves x reader #five hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves #luther hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #viktor hargreeves #alison hargreeves #ben hargreeves #sir reginald hargreeves #lila pitts #little bit of angst #hihomeghere

[the-atlas-sister]

"ᴏʜ ɢᴏᴅ ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ," ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴘᴀɴᴛ ɢᴇɴᴛʟʏ ᴀꜱ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴛʀᴀɪɴ ᴡᴇᴛ ᴋɪꜱꜱᴇꜱ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɴᴇᴄᴋ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏᴠᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴏᴜᴛʜ ᴛᴏ ʜɪᴅᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴏɪꜱᴇꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ꜱɪᴍᴘʟʏ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴋɪꜱꜱᴇꜱ. "ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʙᴇ ᴇᴍʙᴀʀʀᴀꜱꜱᴇᴅ ʙᴀʙʏ." ᴛʜᴇʏ ɢᴇɴᴛʟʏ ʀᴇᴍᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴀɴᴅ ᴀꜱ ᴛʜᴇʏ ʀᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴜᴘ ᴛᴏ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ ᴀ ᴘᴀꜱꜱɪᴏɴᴀᴛᴇ ᴋɪꜱꜱ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟɪᴘꜱ. "ɪ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴏɪꜱᴇꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ." ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜱᴍɪʟᴇ ᴄᴏʏʟʏ ᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴀᴄᴇ ꜰʟᴜꜱʜᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴀᴡᴀʏ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴀᴅᴠᴀɴᴛᴀɢᴇ, Qᴜɪᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʟɪᴘꜱ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɴᴇᴄᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʜᴇꜱᴛ. ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ꜱᴍɪʟᴇ ᴀɢᴀɪɴꜱᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱᴋɪɴ ᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱʜʏʟʏ ʟᴇᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴍᴇᴡʟꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜɪɴᴇꜱ. "ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪᴛ ɪꜱ."

~-~-~-~- 𝚆𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚑!

#dick grayson #damian wayne #batman #the umbrella academy #tim drake #five hargreeves #jason todd #avatar the way of water #atwow neteyam #neteyam sully smut #dc #dc universe #xreader #dick x reader #dick grayson x reader #bruce wayne x reader #jason todd x reader #crush x reader #celebrity crush #tom holland x reader #lo'ak x reader #jake sully #jake sully x reader #I really can imagine Jake for this #iwaizumi x reader #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreaves smut #smut #suggestive #making out

[mrsriddlenott]

12 Days Of SmutMas

18+ Only!! My first Fic Event!!!!!

I am literally so excited to do this bc I wanted to do an October/Halloween event but didn’t have the time so I hope you guys are excited with meee!!!!

These fics will start coming out on the 5th and 6th, (I’m giving the first 4 days to see what requests I get), then every other day until Christmas Eve with the last one coming out on Christmas Day👏👏

[Requests Closed]

1. First Christmas ~ James Potter 12/5/23

Summary: You and James have your first Christmas in your new flat together. You two have fun buying new decorations and deciding where they’ll go while getting distracted in every room you put them in.

2. Christmas Movie Marathon ~ JJ Maybank 12/6/23

Summary: You, JJ, and the Pogues spend Christmas together in the chateau watching all your favorite holiday movies, until your mischievous boyfriend gets bored and wants to distract you as well.

3. Family Christmas ~ [closed] Theodore Nott & Mattheo Riddle 12/8/23

Summary: Theo brings you and Mattheo to his family’s Christmas dinner for the first time making you a nervous wreck, desperate to make a good impression. The boys notices your anxiety and decide to help you with your nerves in Theo’s bathroom before you eat with his family.

4. Santa Clause Is Coming To Town ~ Klaus Mikaelson 12/10/23

Summary: When Klaus mysteriously returns from New Orleans, the Mystic Falls gang worries about what he’s planning, though his only plan is to convince you to join him for Christmas in The Big Easy, by any means necessary. Starting with lavish gifts, attention, and affections, and ending with his mouth wherever you wish it.

5. Decorate With Me ~ [closed] Mattheo Riddle 12/12/23

Summary: Alpha!Mattheo is too lazy to decorate the house for the holiday’s, thinking it useless, you however entice him to decorate one thing at a time as you strip for him, teasing him and escaping his grasp until all that’s left to do is place the ornaments on the tree, leaving him to decorate you.

6. Secret Santa ~ bsf!Sirius Black 12/14/23

Summary: Sirius gets your name for Secret Santa and decides to prank you by having you open a dildo in front of all your friends. However, he’s shocked and flustered when you jokingly say you’re grateful and you’ll need it since your sex life is stale. In private, Sirius tells you he’d like to change that.

7. Stocking Stuffers ~ [closed] Mattheo Riddle & Theodore Nott 12/16/23

Summary: Insanely horny Mattheo and Theo help you decorate for Christmas in your cute holiday themed outfit and hear you refer to putting gifts in their stocking as needing to stuff their stockings, and can’t help but get distracted by the idea of stuffing your stickings with a gift too.

8. Scrooge ~ Rafe Cameron 12/18/23

Summary: Rafe never had much Christmas spirit, luckily his girlfriend absolutely had enough for both of them. Conflicts ensue as you attempt to get him festive, and when he wakes up in a sour mood on Christmas of all days, you’re not having it, giving him a Christmas gift from under the sheets that makes him the most jolly mother fucker in Tanneyhill.

9. You Ruined The Surprise ~ [closed] Anakin Skywalker 12/20/23

Summary: Emperor!Anakin walks in on you wrapping his gifts on Christmas Eve, making you fear the holiday to be ruined, but he reminds you he still gets to wait and unwrap his favorite gift under the tree, you. Leading to a long night of teasing until he can finally unwrap his gift in the morning.

10. Office Party ~ boss!Bucky Barnes x Reader 12/22/23

Summary: Your job’s annual Christmas party is approaching and for the first time since your recent divorce, you will be without a date. Unbeknownst to you your boss and mentor will be facing the same issue, leading to an unforeseen Christmas gift with many consequences.

11. Gingerbread Men ~ [closed] Lorenzo Berkshire 12/24/23

Summary: Dark!Enzo happily helps you decorate your Christmas cookies, laughing as you decorate gingerbread men to look like each other to eat. Enzo jokes that your homemade cookie tastes amazing but no where near as good as the real you, leading to kitchen shenanigans.

12. Christmas In Bed ~ 🎄🎁 12/25/23

Your Last Gift Will Be Opened On Christmas Day☺️😁

Please send Character Requests from any universe 👇below👇 for any of the prompts that are free. I am better at writing m&f smut but I am entirely welcome to any other pairing if I think I’m capable of writing it, poly couples are welcome!!

- HP Universe (any era, fanon&canon characters)

- TVD Universe (any of the 3 series’ characters)

- TWD Universe (main&FTWD characters pref.)

- Outer Banks

- The Umbrella Academy

- Star Wars (main&prequel trilogy pref.)

- Teen Wolf

- Stranger Things (will not write for the main kids)

- Supernatural

- MCU

Requests for this event are open until all free prompts are filled. Please include what relationship the character will have with the reader and the number of the prompt you want them to fill!!

- My Relationship/Smut Request Guidelines -

✅Best Friend x Reader

✅Bsf’s Sibling & Sibling’s Bsf x Reader

✅Friends W/ Benefits

✅New Step Sibling x Reader

✅Teacher/Professor x 18+ Reader

✅Alpha x Omega

✅Dominant x Submissive (hard&soft smut, I’m not good at writing Dom reader but I will try)

✅Power Imbalance (examples: boss,leader,blackmail,corruption kink, etc.)

✅Dark!Character x Reader (examples: obsessed,possessive,criminal, etc.)

❌Real Ince$t

❌Be$tiality

❌Minor x Adult

❌Non/Dub Consent

❌Cheating on or with Reader

~~~~

Taglist (lmk if u want on or off, my main taglist rn is just my HP taglist tbh)

@timmytime17 @talia-scar123 @spencer-reids-wife @ttsbaby01 @animorose @whydoireadanymore @thievin-stealing @spiderman-stilinski @evycloudberry @shady-the-simp @ashisabitgay @porterport @callsignwidow @cicicicicisstuff @mattheoriddleswifee @junebugin-july @moonlightreader649 @devotedlyshadowytheorist @rubyliquor @perverteddsdreams @mildly-delulu @fairydimples07 @shadowmoonlight0604 @80scinemvasworld @nevillescomslut @annaisabookworm @abaker74 @athenalikethegoddess @limeren @h-------n @kezibear @mattheoriddlemarcuslopez @lovemelikecrazyiloveyoucrazy @curiousshifter101 @tobyr68 @spididerman @hedwigprewett12 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @kiwi475

#harry potter #mcu #outer banks #the vampire diaries #the umbrella academy #star wars #teen wolf #stranger things #supernatural #the walking dead #obx #twd #rafe cameron smut #anakin skywalker smut #mattheo riddle smut #klaus mikealson smut #mauraders smut #stiles stilinski smut #bucky barnes smut #smut #smut oneshot #dean winchester smut #x reader #daryl dixon smut #steve harrington smut #damon salvatore smut #negan smut #harry potter smut #jj maybank smut #steve rogers smut

[inkyteaart]

Mind The Mascara

Pairing: Klaus Hargreeves x Reader Rating: Explicit Summary: Klaus comes to visit, and you do his make-up. Only to then test how well it stays. Warnings: Drugs briefly mentioned, Blow Jobs, Gagging, Facefucking, Edging, Dacryphilia, Marking, Light Jealousy (on readers part), switch!Klaus

An old stereo filled your room with music. The last time you tuned in it was playing something from Kesha. At this moment, however, you were too focused on the task at hand; doing your best friends' makeup. 

Klaus had come by to visit. As he usually did he showed up completely unannounced. A rock had hit your window while you tried to relax in your room. On inspection you found a shirtless Klaus in a long red flowing skirt waving up at you. He motioned to a baggie in his hand, and you had immediately understood the assignment. It had taken you no time to run to your door and rip it open to let him in. 

The two of you had caught up, passing a joint between you. It was always a great time when Klaus came over. Especially when he brought such a treat. At some point in the night, you had realized that the long red flowing skirt he was wearing was yours. A skirt that had gone missing…right around the last time he came to hang out. 

You took a drag from the joint, holding the smoke as you eyed him. He didn’t look bad in your clothes, but dammit you had wanted to wear that skirt. You blew out the smoke before speaking, “If you’re going to steal my clothes, at least let me do your makeup to complete the look!” 

That was how you got here. Sitting on your bed, trying your best to do Klaus’ eyes. He was just so damn fidgety! Swaying, humming, blinking, and overall making your job hell. It was like he couldn’t talk without moving his entire body along with his mouth. One would think his high would make him less fidgety, but no, not in the slightest. 

Fed up with the struggle, you gripped his cheeks, glaring at him. “Can you sit still? Or do you want the liner IN your eye?” He laughed in your grip. "Nope!" You groaned, shoving his face away from you. Dramatically he flopped onto his back, pouting. 

You looked at him for a moment. A thought came to you, making you grin. Quickly you threw a leg over Klaus' waist, coming to rest on his hips. "If you won't sit still upright. Let's try this instead." At first he giggled under you, grabbing your thighs. His giggling quieted as you put one hand by his head to hold you up. Your face came close to his, and your hair fell in a curtain around you. Suddenly Klaus’ focus was solely on you.That worked well for you as he was finally sitting still. 

Carefully, painstakingly, you applied liner around his eye. Without realizing it, you had caught your lower lip in your teeth. A face of complete and utter concentration. It was endearing. Klaus wanted to laugh at you, but he couldn’t bring himself to break your focus now. Instead he found himself staring up at your face, looking at your lips, and resisting the urge to sit up enough for a kiss. 

“There!” You sat up, breaking the spell. The eyeliner was sharper than his usual messy smokey eye, and brought attention to his gorgeous green eyes. “Now the mascara…” He had such long beautiful lashes. “Hold still…” You warned him, even grabbing his chin to keep him still. 

Both of your breaths were mingling, a slow and steady inhale and exhale. You found yourself distracted as you finished the last few swipes of the wand against his lashes. His eyes really were beautiful. You’d always loved them, and now that you had focused so intently on them, you could really appreciate them. Especially as you realized how they were locked onto your face. How he was enthralled with you. 

The silence stretched on between the two of you for a moment. Just before it became awkward Klaus whined in the back of his throat. “Are you going to kiss me or what?” His voice was quiet, but that was all you needed. You breathed a short chuckle and leaned down. The first kiss was just a meet of the lips. The second was deeper, longer. A slow, almost lazy dance. 

It wasn't the first time the two of you had done this, and probably wouldn't be the last. Neither of you were good with close relationships. So calling yours anything other than a friendship was scary. Yet the two of you always seemed to drift together. Both of you were attracted to the other, and you'd even venture to say you love Klaus. However, the idea of crossing that line was terrifying. 

This was comfortable, exactly how the two of you were. The slow steady way your lips moved against each other. How they naturally opened for one another. He tasted like smoke and booze. It was a combination you'd come to love. Especially when intertwined with something so distinctly Klaus. 

You were the one to break from the kiss, tracing your lips down along his jaw. He hummed, turning his head to the side to make more room for you. Your lips pressed against the curve of his jaw, just under his ear. It was always so sensitive, and sure enough you caught how his breath hitched. 

It was a moment of weakness, a fit of jealousy knowing he would leave after tonight. Into the arms of whomever. So you marked that spot, sucking and nipping at the skin. Once satisfied you moved down his neck, leaving a trail of deep bruises. Klaus for his part simply enjoyed the attention. He squirmed under you, and you could feel the brush of a distinct something under you. 

"So beautiful, Klaus…" you loved complimenting him almost as much as he loved hearing it. You could see him practically preening under you. "Sensitive too." He had shivered as your hand ran down his chest. Your thumb brushed over one small brown nipple, making him gasp. “ Feel good?” You smirked up at him. The other bud was rolled under your tongue and enveloped by your lips. You kissed and sucked at him, catching the hardened nub between your teeth in a gentle nip. Klaus squirmed at the attention, and you could play him like a fiddle, but you had other plans. 

Down his chest, over his ribs, and across his stomach, your hand drifted lower. Slowly trailing behind were your lips. You paused in places to make sure your mark was left. Whoever came next would have no doubt of the claim you'd staked. Even if it was only in the form of temporary little marks. Nothing…permanent. 

Soft sighs and gasps turned to heavy breathing as you went down his body. Coming to the waistband of the skirt he was wearing, you looked up at him. He had settled into the bed, propping a pillow under his head to watch you better. You almost snorted at the view. Pillow Princess. You would have called him such if you didn't love the sight of your work painting his body. 

He raised one leg, letting it fall onto your shoulder. It caused the skirt to rise up, pooling around his hips. The glimpse at thigh and hip it gave you let you in on a dirty little secret. He was bare under that skirt. 

Turning your head, you placed a soft kiss against his inner thigh. One that turned to a nip, then a bite. He gasped at the sharp feeling, sitting up a bit to look at you. "Gentle, gentle! Don't you think you've left enough evidence?" Despite the scolding, he didn't sound serious. You simply looked back at him, and kissed the teeth marks you had left in apology. "Come on…make it up to me properly…" anticipation laced his voice as he took it upon himself to lift the skirt up his hips. 

With one leg still on your shoulder, you had the perfect view of him. He was hard, his arousal framed artistically by the fabric of the skirt. A dark red backdrop to his pale skin. 

One hand wrapped around him, stroking up to caress the head. “I’m so…so sorry.” You smirked up at him as you nosed your way down his thigh. Kissing softly until you came to brush against the base of his cock. “Let me make amends.” You purred before running your tongue up the length of him. He gave a keening moan at the feeling of your tongue on him. His hips twitched, unable to lay still as you stroked him. 

Klaus watched every move you made with a hazy hooded gaze. A flush colored his cheeks, coloring down his neck and across the top of his chest. His lips were slightly parted, letting out moans and whines unabashedly. Each little lick, every slow stroke of your hand felt amazing, but it wasn’t enough. 

“Come oooon.” He whined, letting his head fall back. “Stop teasing…” You could hear the pout in his voice. 

Taking pity on him, you sucked the round head into your mouth. Your tongue cupped the underside of his cock as you slid down slowly. An inch, two, then back up to give little kisses along the length. Klaus cursed at your teasing, gripping the sheets. That curse died on his tongue as you took him into your mouth again. Further down you slid, suctioning your mouth around him. 

A slow steady pace started, with you slipping your mouth up and down around him. A hand tangled itself into your hair as you sucked him closer to the edge. Klaus never lasted as long when he was high. The sensation was just too much for him. You could tell when he was on that precipice towards orgasm. His incessant twitching became frantic, his hand pulled at your hair, and he practically started begging. “Please, please, please, oh fuck…” 

It was too easy to mess with him. 

You pulled off his dick with a sound pop, holding the base firm between thumb and forefinger. His voice cracked as you ruined his orgasm. A small chant of “no” could be heard as he bucked his hips in a futile attempt to get friction back. 

“Wh…What are you doing?!” He yelped, looking at you wild eyed and desperate. You crooned at his desperation, smiling innocently up at him. His eyes were glistening with unshed tears from the frustration. How pretty. “Oh did I stop too soon? Should we try again?” You taunted, easing your hold on him once you were sure he wasn’t going to cum. 

Klaus glared down at you, pulling at your hair in revenge. The sting and his glare made you shiver, a tiny moan falling from your lips. “For real this time?” His voice was so raspy and fucked out. You hardly thought you could say no, so you nodded sweetly. 

This time as you took him into your mouth, you did so seriously. You worked your way down his dick. His hand stayed a firm reminder on the back of your head, not forcing your movements, but reminding you not to tease. Those sweet whiny moans of his started back up again as his cock slid into your throat. It took a second to get used to the feeling as you tried not to gag, but you had a mission to accomplish. Down a bit further you went until your nose met with his pelvis. You swallowed around him, your throat clenching and making him gasp. 

Looking back up at him as you slid back, you noticed the tears clinging to his lashes. His eyes were closed, and his jaw was slack. It only drove you to want to please him more as one of those tears broke free, rolling down his cheek. A dark track of make up highlighted its path. That was your favorite. When he became so overwhelmed the tears started rolling. He never lasted much longer after the water works started. 

You kept your eyes on his face, watching how he lost himself in the feeling. How his brows pulled together, his eyes shut. The makeup you had so painstakingly applied was getting ruined with tears. There was even a small line of drool from how his mouth hung open. 

His hips were bucking now, a desperate keen coming from him as he chased the end. His hand tightened in your hair unconsciously. Feeling generous you relaxed your jaw and let him chase his own climax. His cock fucked into your throat, leaving a sticky mess of spit and precum on your face. Each slap of his hips into your face had his balls slap into the bottom of your chin. 

"OoOooo FUCK! Fuckfuckfuck…" You could feel the twitch of his dick in your mouth. He was so close to his release.  

Klaus gave a cry, a choked whining sound as he came. His back arched, his hips stuttering up into your face as his hand pushed you down. His grip held you down, nose pressed firm against his hips. His balls were pressed to your chin, and you could feel the way they pulsed. Your lips caressed the skin around the base of his cock as the dam burst. Hot jets of cum shot down your throat, and all you could do was swallow it down. Each swallow made Klaus gasp and whimper at the stimulation against his over sensitive dick. You were milking him for everything he had, reveling in the knowledge that you were his undoing. 

A weak raspy groan was all he had left to give as he finally relaxed enough to let you up. Slow you pulled off him, catching the last dribbles of cum on your tongue. Klaus couldn't even see you, shame. He had an arm draped over his eyes and he breathed heavily. 

"Fuck…" He rasped, wiping the tears from his eyes with his forearm. You laughed, your own voice fucked out. His body gave a twitch as you kissed his flagging cock. "Nnn, too sensitive…" He swatted at you with one hand weakly. Another little laugh came from you as you grabbed his hand. Fingers intertwined, and bodies laid together as you moved up beside him and rested your head on his shoulder. 

The two of you laid in silence for a moment. You continued to hold his hand, thumb rubbing across his knuckles. Slowly his breathing calmed, becoming almost in sync with your own. You thought maybe he would fall asleep like this. Instead he sat up, looking down at you. 

"My turn…" 

"huh?" 

Klaus rolled over, trapping you under him. He wiggled his eyebrows at you, grinning. 

"You didn't think I wouldn't return the favor did you? "

#inkyteawrites? #the umbrella academy #klaus hargreeves #tua klaus #klaus x reader #klaus hargreeves x reader #ns.fw #x reader smut #umbrella academy #Honestly I just love this man #i want this to be gender neutral reader #but im worried ppl are gonna assume skirt = girl #which it does not #but yknow

[salvador-daley]

Stranger

The Corinthian x Klaus Hargreeves

A/N: A little crossover to shake off the cobwebs. Hopefully written in such a way that fans of both shows should be able to get something out of it. Especially if they are horny...

CW: This fic is short, smutty and very very dark. Read the tags, you little buggers. 😈😈

Summary if you’re a Sandman fan: While searching for Rose Walker, Corinthian becomes distracted by her eccentric roommate.

Summary if you’re a TUA fan: Klaus plays host to a mysterious stranger… and gets railed to within an inch of his life.

If you’re a fan of both: Well, today is your lucky day.

Words: 2.8k

Snippet: The man who swings the door open is tall and slender, painfully pretty, with a head of jaw-length dark curls which poke out from beneath a turban formed in grubby pink velvet.

His robe - a silk kimono decorated with an explosion of exotic birds in blues and reds and yellows - is untied, allowed to fall open somewhat lewdly or perhaps merely carelessly.

Beneath, the man’s skin is tanned - almost olive - pristine apart from a single dark mole orbiting the man’s right nipple and a large tattoo across his stomach - something intricate and religious, peppered with text in Thai that isn’t quite legible from this angle.

The rest of the man’s outfit consists only of a set of military dogtags and a small pair of black leather briefs with a lace-up detail over the crotch, accompanied by a pair of worn rubber flip-flops.

This man is, by far, one of the strangest creatures he’s ever seen, which is really saying something.

The man squints. A cigarette dangles from the guy’s mouth, bobbing as he speaks. “Sorry, darling, we’ve already found God here. Moody little madam, she is. Maybe try next door.”

Read the rest on AO3

Tagging because you haven’t told me to stop: @badsext @softforklave @falloutby @merry-melody @neist @purblzart @maerenee930 @firstpersonnarrator @allisoooon @cemeteryklaus @super-unpredictable98 @mokolataddict @pickledbeefwastaken @love-is-dirty-baby @rina-cydonia @inspiremeandsetmefree @jender123 @vonkimmeren @narnianaos @sylvertyger @merrilark @rob-private @pietro-t1me

#klaus Hargreeves #the corinthian #tua #the sandman #Robert Sheehan #boyd holbrook #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #corinthian smut #klaus hargreeves smut #the Corinthian smut #umbrella academy smut #tua smut #sandman smut #klaus umbrella academy #corinthian fanfic #sandman fanfiction #sandman fic #the sandman fanfic #robert sheehan smut

[kaybreezy3000]

The Anti Hero's Pitfall of Arrogance

Five Hargreeves / Female OC

What happens when you disarm an exceptionally arrogant person, one that is a self-absorbed, teleporting, teenaged superhero?

The answer is not great things.

Get ready for a taste of Five like you've never had before...

(Chapters Three and Four Post)

- This AU starts off when the Hargreeves are 16 and but is based off the show. It's going to give you a look inside Five's mind at that time of his life and not all of it is good, but I promise it's not all bad. I always make sure to give our boy his day to shine.

Warnings and Tags: sexually explicit content, flashbacks, teen bad behavior, survival horror, bad decisions, regret, POV Five, aggression issues, suffering, humor and angst and fluff, redemption, sweet Five and mean Five in same story, Dolores is a factor, hurt Number Five, Five makes fun and dirty check lists in this one, Young Five is really something, Plot twists and many tags left off to avoid spoiling the story.

Link to Full Summary and Chapter One and Chapter Two

Chapter Three: House On Fire

I followed her.

I felt like I had no choice.

Or maybe I did it because of her very nice-looking butt that was within my hands reach. She wasn’t even trying to cover it, so how could me looking at it be my fault?

Well…maybe she was covering it, but that towel wasn’t doing a great job. It was way too small, and I could see her flawlessly rounded ass cheeks just fine, not that I hadn’t already seen everything else too, but this was all still blowing my mind and I was hardly thinking with my entire brain. 

Even in the very dim light as she was showering, just seeing those perky tits nearly did me in.

My conduct was normally never so rudimentary. I knew that I was acting out of character and that I was better than this.

In my fucked-up brain, I believed that I was better than her, but it was easier to blame my ill-thought-out decision to come in there on anything but myself.

Just the fact that I met up with a girl, all so I could possibly fool around with her was wrong. Me thinking she went to a respected private school somehow made it easier for me to reconcile, but even as dense as I was, I knew that it was something entirely different if the girl was homeless and not at all who she originally appeared to be.

The second she realized I was following her, she let go of my arm and I could have left, but I still didn’t retreat.

That would have been even worse than the first time I blinked away, so I rationalized that was a good enough reason for blindly following her like I was a lost puppy.

What I should have done right then was apologize for showing up like I'd just done after openly blowing her off on the street, and then I also shouldn’t have gaped at her after that, but no, apologizing for either of those things was far from what I did.

It might have been guilt that made me finally pull my eyes off her cute ass, but it was probably just my training kicking in. I glanced around us making sure it was safe. Again, all I saw was the old, deserted workspace where her things were laid out. It was cold, damp, and dark and it didn’t seem right at all, but there appeared to be no immediate danger here.

I nearly ran into her when she stopped and turned my way, and I could tell she thought that was funny because her eyes crinkled at the corners, and she held a hand over her mouth for a second or two in an effort to hide that she was cracking up over my inability to walk.

“Gosh... I can’t believe you are here. I didn’t really think you would come, and then I saw you-" She paused, her smile getting bigger as she carefully hoisted up her bath towel, which showed me less of her chest but offered a better view of her legs. “I am so excited. I am a huge fan of the Umbrella Academy, but mostly that’s because of you.” Even in the dim light I could see her blushing from saying that and I was eating up. “I mean… Oh, my God, that sounds so dumb, I am sorry.”

She looked so worked up over seeing me; it was helping me feel less uncomfortable, but only a little.

“I know this looks bad,” she said, gesturing around her, “but I can explain. This situation is temporary. I swear I’m not a weirdo or anything.” She laughed again ad this time her laugh came out much more openly and I found that I liked the sound of it. It was delicate and feminine, just like her voice and everything about her. “Not that people living on the streets are weirdos or anything, it’s just that something bad happened and well…” She didn’t finish and I didn’t press her about it, because truthfully, I didn't care about anything other than watching her. 

Being a little less of an ass, I cleared my throat while looking around aimlessly to try and keep my eyes off areas of her that I shouldn’t be looking at, like the drops of water dripping from her hair that then slipped down in-between her breasts.

“Ah, yeah," I mumbled, acting totally unaware of what she was talking about. "Sorry about that. At first, I didn’t realize that was you on the corner.” My eyes continued to dart anywhere but at her as I anxiously rubbed the back of my neck and continued lying. “I mean, I didn't recognize you without that school uniform on,” I clarified, before I stupidity rambled on. “I read your note. It sounded like you had something important you needed to see me about. Being available to help people is sort of what we do. I am here, so...”

She said nothing, so I raised a brow at her, indicating that she needed to lead this.

Going with the ‘Superhero, here at your service’ thing was such a dumb thing to say, because helping your normal average people on the street was not at all what Reginal Hargreeves was about or what we normally did at The Umbrella Academy, but seeing as most my blood wasn’t pumping to my brain, that was all I had.

Her eyes widened with what I assumed was recognition, and her hands tightened around her towel as I did my best to level a hard stare at her again.

“Uhm, wah-w-would you just give me a second,” she stuttered. “I just… I am sorry, I’m so nervous. I still can’t believe it’s really you, like the real live Five Hargreeves, with me, here.”

She bit her lower lip with her upper teeth as her eyes trailed up and down, taking me in like I was the most amazing thing she'd ever seen.

“Ah… I just need to-”

She quickly bent down, frantically digging through a plastic bag with what appeared to be clothing in it.

“I can’t imagine what you think of me,” she said as she waved her hand at all her things, “of all this, and-" She looked up from her crouched position. “You know, with this place and my whole improvised shower thing. Since I thought you changed your mind about meeting me, and it started to rain, I figured I may as well enjoy a rinse, but you are probably thinking all sorts of things about me doing that,” she added, snatching a shirt out of her pile.

“I don’t think anything, and I didn’t see anything," I replied, way too quickly, but I'd already lied once, and she didn’t call me out on it, so I figured that I may as well lie again because she obviously was too rattled to call me out on it. 

“Oh... Okay.” Her lips pulled to the side like something was bothering her. “I only wore that uniform because I wanted to look less…” she looked down at her hands, “-less me, I guess. It's just, when I heard about the press conference today, I jumped at the chance to go and I wanted to look nice, so that’s why I wore that.” Her head very slowly shook side to side, then she looked back up. “I did go to that school, but I don’t anymore.”

“Sure,” I indifferently retorted as I tucked both my hands in my pockets rather that anxiously fiddle with my blazer's lapels.

With a puff of air to blow my hair out of my eyes, I tipped back on the balls of my feet in an effort to look as cool and calm as possible.

“That’s…ah, fine," I added. "I wasn’t trying to make it seem like it matters or anything So, yeah... I am going to just look over this way so you can-” I pulled my hand out of my pocket, gesturing the other way, then I turned, giving her a moment to make herself decent.

Behind me, I could hear more rustling, then a few seconds later, the area we were standing in lit up with a warm glow of light. It totally took me off guard, and despite the fact that the girl was trying to get dressed, I immediately turned back her way.

My mouth gaped as I breathed, “What the-"

Her big blue eyes looked startled as I felt.

“It was so dark in here. Isn’t this better?” she worriedly asked, interrupting me from asking how in the hell she managed to light so many candles that fast.

I nodded an affirmative yes, as I thickly swallowed.

My mouth felt dry, and my hands felt so unbelievably hot.

I could see her much better now. She wasn’t fully naked or in her little towel anymore, but she was only wearing a long white t-shirt and it didn’t appear to be her size because it was falling off one of her shoulders, exposing her slender upper arm and the delicate curve of her collar bone. Behind her, I could see that along the ledge of dirty windows that faced out to the factory floor, she had dozens of candles that I hadn’t noticed before, and each one and many of the others that were strewn about were all lit. There were at least thirty or more, but I never heard a strike of a match or the flick of a lighter.

“How’d you-"

She raised a hand, stopping me because when she did, I got a glimpse of her lacey little red panties. Then I turned red, and she giggled at my gawking wide-eyed reaction to that.

“I’m making you uncomfortable,” she taunted.

“No.”

I knew my fast answer was as unconvincing as all my others, but I couldn’t help it.

The girl inched closer.

“Hey, I promise I won’t bite. Not unless you want me to,” she purred. “I meant it when I said that you are my favorite member of the Umbrella Academy. I really did want to meet you and that was in part because I figured you would be the only one willing to listen to me, but I really like you too, Five.”

She was right in front of me now. I held my ground. Something felt off, but when she reached out and took my wrist, pulling my hand out of my pocket, I didn’t pull away. Instead, I let her pull me closer.

“Why am I your favorite?” I quietly asked.

She smiled. “Because you are extremely smart. You always seem to be a million steps ahead of the rest.”

In the glowing candlelight I could see her cheeks light up from saying that, but it only made her look more beautiful. 

“You are my favorite because you are, well… Because you are so-” She looked down, eyeing my neck or maybe my tie, I wasn't sure. “I feel so silly saying this to you, because you are you, and you are famous, and so incredible and everything, but you are my favorite because you are so charmingly mannered and serious all the time and because you are so uniquely handsome."

With each thing she said, I felt like my brain could not compute. “You think I am handsome?” I asked, sounding like a complete buffoon.

“Yes, I do. I have a huge crush on you. I think you are so hot,” she breathed as her fingers ran across the inside of my palm. She twisted one foot around her opposite ankle and her knee bumped into my leg, brushing against my nerdy knee sock.

She was so close. All I wanted to do was touch her.

Again, my eyes felt drawn to her body, especially to her chest because I could see plain as day that she was chilled from the night air coming in from outside.

When I looked back up, she quirked a brow, confidently holding my hungry stare. Her long lashes fluttered as she leaned in expectantly and one of her hands fell against my chest with a teasing softness.

“It’s pretty clear that you like what you see too,” she said, followed by another giggle. “I don’t mind if you do. I am glad you find me attractive. I may have been dangling an intentional carrot when I promised to make this worth your while. But that's only because I really wanted you to come tonight. I did ask you to meet me because I needed to talk to you about something important, but we can definitely do more than talk if you want that. I really, really like you, Five, like a lot."

Her toes bumped my shoes and my eyes moved down to see there was no space left between us.

“It looks like you want to touch me. Do you?”

“Yes," I said as my voice shook.

My answer was so pathetically soft, but I felt at a loss for words, so I was lucky anything came out. This girl was all I could think about, and she was knocking me off my game big time.

Her smile looked so sincere. “I’m all yours then."

Holy shit. This was it.

This is what I came for, so…

Leaning in, I tilted my head down like I assumed you should do if you’re going to try and kiss someone slightly shorter than you. She silently reciprocated my small overture, clearing the distance between us.

My eyes automatically shut.

Then, as if I was having an outer body experience, I felt my mouth pressing against hers.

Wow.

Her lips were smooth as silk. I could smell her even better now; the flowery scent and heat of her body were pulling my mind out of that dank factory and taking away all my usual anxieties and racing thoughts.

All I felt was her.

Right then, I understand why people did this.

I was finally getting what all the fuss was about and why my brothers were constantly going on and on about it.

Who knew that something as simple as kissing was so awesome?

I am sure that I grazed her mouth too hard at first, but I didn’t know how to do it. That was the point in coming there. I didn’t know how to do any of this, but I found that I was desperately wanting to know, and lucky me, I was getting exactly what I came for.

Thoughts of me being better than her, and her being a homeless teenager, one that obviously wasn’t in the best situation, faded far into the recesses of my mind. Everything that normally bogged me down became just more background noise like the steady thrum coming from the rain.

Feeling the warm pressure of her lips against mine sent a rousing prickling sensation up and down my spine. I felt like every one of my nerve endings ignited, and I wanted to wrap my arms around her and hold her, but instead, I let up because I didn’t want to scare her off. I didn’t want to pull away from this feeling yet, but thankfully she didn’t want it to end either. As soon as I stopped kissing her, she advanced, pushing her mouth to mine again. 

She still had one of my hands in hers and my other hand felt like it needed to be somewhere other than dangling uselessly at my side, so the next thing I knew, it was resting on her slender waist. The cotton fabric of her shirt slid under my hand as my fingers dug into her hip, latching on. She wasn’t trying to get away, but something in me, something that I didn’t quite understand, wanted her as close as possible and needed to make sure she didn't leave me just yet.

Her lips parted against mine and feeling that, I let my tongue dip inside her mouth like I'd heard you should do. She allowed it and even massaged my tongue back with hers.

It felt unreal and I felt very, very erotically wet and hot.

First time seeing a real naked chick (other than in one of Diego’s Playboys that he kept under the floorboard under his bed): Check

First kiss: Check.

First ‘French’ kiss: Check

This one experience was such a great idea. I would have no shortage of things to lord over my moronic brothers if they were making fun of me and I felt the need to shut them down.

A few minutes later, after more soft tongue twisting, I risked moving my arm around her so that my hand was laying across her lower back and, in doing so, the sexiest sound came out of her. Then to even further prove that she was enjoying this as much as me, she pushed her curvy little body flush with mine, her hip falling even more perfectly between my legs.

My first reaction was to move myself back to a safer distance because I was sure that she could feel my dick and that’s because I sure as hell could feel it. I’d been fighting a hard-on since I first saw her buck naked and I was steadily losing that fight the longer I was in her presence.

Oh, but fuck she felt so good. God help me...

Instead of shying away from my body’s response to her, it seemed that she was loving it. She rubbed her body against my pelvic region and that sealed it. There was no slowing down that not so little physiological reaction I was having.

I could feel my dick getting full hard. Before this, when my hands were in my pockets, I had tried to conceal how turned on I was by tucking it up under the waistband of my briefs in the trusty hide your boner method, but now that was doing little to nothing in hiding the fact that I was very turned on.

When our lips finally parted, I was noticeably breathless, but so was she as she asked, “Do you want me to touch you?”

I didn’t know what she meant. I was touching her, and she was already touching me. As I kissed her, she moved her hands up around my shoulders. Her fingers had been gently moving through the hair at the nap of my neck the entire time and it felt so God damn amazing.

When I didn’t answer her question, she lowered one of her hands, taking one of mine under hers. She took it off her hip, placing it back on her ass in an assertive way that caused a smacking sound on impact. It made me startle at first, but I also couldn't begin to hold in my growing smile over how much I liked that.

She giggled as my fingers splayed across the thin lacy fabric covering her. Trying to make her smile even more, I dipped a finger under the fabric over one of her cheeks as I held my breath in a failed attempt to contain my elation over her letting me do this.

“You can touch me, Five. I want you to,” she assured even though it was already apparent that she was fine with this.

After that open invitation to do more, my other hand joined in the fun, groping her butt cheeks. They were firm yet jiggly and so unbelievably exciting to play with. I cupped them possessively, just enough to lift her off the floor a tiny bit. She seemed to like it and I did too and not just because that caused the weight of her to press into me in the most pleasurable way. She was so easy to lift; it made me feel so powerful and that was not a feeling I was used to. I won nearly every match between me and my siblings during training, but that was not because I was big and strong. My only sibling smaller than me was Vanya, and she and I only had interactions that were in conversation, not combat.

With a smile, I dove back in, kissing her even more confidently. It was sloppy and fucking fantastic, and her reaction to it was great.

There was no mistaking her wiggly hips trying to drive me even more nuts as they rolled against my erection.

This was crazy. I knew that. But I didn’t want to stop.

She felt so perfect. She tasted so damn delicious; like she’d been eating fruity flavored candy. I loved the way her mouth felt as it moved with mine. I loved how her body felt under my hands as I let them explore just a little more freely. Moving up the back of her shirt, my palm slid along her velvety skin, edging upwards.

The girl clearly meant that she liked me and that I could touch her as I wished because when I went for it, tickling my fingers across the side of her breast, she made another one of those amazing little noises.

I broke our heated kiss. “Is this okay?” I asked, wanting to be sure before I did anything else.

“Yes. What you are doing feels so good, Five. Touch me however you want,” she breathlessly assured, her swollen lips parting in a soft gasp as I let my fingers trail over her chest. I let her nipples catch between my fingers, relishing in how hard they were, but I was still too jumpy to stay and play with them more than that even though I was all but salivating as I thought about diving under her shirt and taking her with my mouth.

Feeling up a girl’s warm and so soft and tantalizingly squishy boobs: Big Boner Check!

Her head tipped back, and her eyes closed as I continued to let my fingers explore and I carefully studied her responses.

“Are you cold?” My question came out slightly cocky, but I couldn’t help it. Her tits were so hard! I knew she liked this.

Her eyes slowly opened as a cute smirk pulled her lips to the side. “No. I am far from cold. In fact, I don’t usually get cold like normal people do.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, it’s my magical superpower and it makes it much easier when taking a shower in the rain or when you’re trying to stay warm on particularly cold nights when you are forced to sleep outside. But even with my talents, I am not planning on staying around here for winter,” she replied as I pressed her up against me just a little tighter, letting her hips dance against the bulge in my pants that was dying for as much attention as it could get.

“Where are you going?” I mindlessly asked because I was only a tiny bit focused on our conversation.

The girl’s hand moved under my blazer. I could feel her trying to work up the bottom of my knitted vest as she answered. “I’m not sure yet, but somewhere warmer. After everything, I think that I need a fresh start.”

When she was done running her warm hand under my shirt and over my abs, she pulled it free then dropped it down over the stretched wool fabric of my shorts, and there was no preventing the groan like noise that followed.

“Oh my God, that feels so good. Please don't stop," I breathed as she worked her hand over me.

Getting my boner felt up by a hot chick: Check!

My hair fell over my closed eyes as my body leaned into her touch. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I couldn't help rutting into her hand to increase the sensation.

“Like I said, Five, I really like you,” she whispered alongside my ear, further sending electrifying tingles across my overheated skin.

With each hard pass of her hand over the fabric of my shorts, I felt myself winding tighter. The reality that she could make me come in my pants by simply groping my dick through my clothes was becoming a very real prospect with each second that passed, but to only further add to my inability to back away and my dismay, she started to lower herself.

“What are you doing?” I frantically asked.

I seriously didn’t know, and I urgently felt the need to pull her back up so I could bury my face against her neck and she could continue to touch me like that.

As I gazed down at her in question, her fingers quickly popped the button holding my waistband closed, and no sooner had she done that, then she was examining my fly. As her fingers pulled down the tiny piece of metal holding my zip up, both my hands flung downwards to prevent my dick from springing out in her face, but she smiled up at me with those beautiful sparkling ocean eyes of hers, looking like she was not at all concerned about that happening.

“I want you to like me too, Five. I want to do this for you and for me. I want to make you feel good,” she said.

I didn’t know what to say to that. My mind was spiraling and coming up with zero.

When her hand came up, moving my hands aside, I didn't fight it.

“Oh fuck!” I moaned as she leaned in and pressed her hot lips over the thin fabric cover of my cotton boxers.

Her warm hand pushed aside my pants as she began placing the softest kisses up my entire length.

“Has anyone ever done this for you before?” she asked, letting her words vibrate my aching tip.

The fabric of my underwear was wet from my pre-cum and when she licked at it and then happily smiled up at me afterwards, I croaked out a very embarrassing, “No, never.”

She beamed even more over my answer, then she began working my shorts and my briefs down my trembling legs.

“I’m surprised to hear that,” she mused as her warm hand tenderly ran back up my left leg and then reached over to tug where my pants got stuck on my other thigh.

Her eyes flit up to mine as I watched her shuffling my clothing down as far as she could. Once she had my uniform shorts and underwear down to my knees, I widened my stance in anticipation of her jerking me off because that’s what I figured was going to happen because she was already stroking me.

It felt odd but also so empowering as I stood over her, watching her seemingly taking pleasure in pleasuring me. I was having all sorts of dirty thoughts about doing more to her, but I kept them to myself as I focused on her hand moving where only mine had ever been before.

“Five Hargreeves, you aren’t what I expected.” When our eyes met, her grin told me that she meant that as somewhat of a joke, but in what way exactly, I didn’t understand, and at the moment, I didn’t care. “I figured by how eager and wonderful you are at kissing, that someone with your sexy skills and fame, would have had plenty of opportunities to get sucked off.”

Just hearing her say that made my cock twitch and more liquid slowly drip out of me, but the moment her lips molded around my swollen bulb of flesh, that’s what made me lose it.

I helplessly swayed backwards. The sudden shuffling of my feet and the scuffing sounds of my shoes as I miraculously stopped myself from falling, all mixed with my uncontained squeak of a moan, and it made it sound like something bad was happening to me and I was trying to get away, but that was far from it.

“You really want to do this?” I asked even though she was already sucking on my dick as the words came sputtering out of my mouth.

Her tongue swirled around before she popped her mouth off and she grinned at me with those cherry red lips.

“Yes, I do, but I have only done this two other times and that was with the same guy. I have only been with one person Five, and from what I understand of it, everyone likes it differently, so don’t be scared to help me make this better for you.”

Well, that little piece of information definitely helped ease my worries about STDs, and it also helped ease the lingering thought that maybe she was not only homeless, but maybe that she was also the type to try and earn money by hanging out on dark street corners picking up drunk strangers on their way home from bars.

I nodded that I understood what she meant by helping her even though I didn’t, then she placed her mouth on me again and began really working me over.

On her knees, her face was at the perfect height for this as she bobbed her head, letting her mouth wet my length, inch by inch. Gazing down at her as she performed this act on me, I very gently placed my hand on her head, feeling her damp hair slip under my fingers before I gently tucked it back behind her ears so I could see what she was doing better.

Getting my dick sucked: Ch-Check yeah!

This was turning into way more than I could have ever imagined. I was knocking off sexual millstones at an alarming rate, but I was normally fast and good at everything I did, so excelling at this wasn’t really anything that shocking, and in that glorious moment, I found myself feeling pretty damn pleased with myself about it.

The sight of my dick moving in and out of her mouth was enough to make me feel like I could do anything. My hips very slowly began to push towards her mouth each time she took me in. This got her making tiny moaning noises of her own and I also found that she was taking me deeper with each thrust, so it had to be okay.

“You are so good at this,” I encouraged because saying that seemed like the right thing to do, and that smart move got me rewarded with her free hand falling over mine where it was still gently resting on her head, her fingers lacing with my own.

I was confused at first, but when she applied pressure to the back of my hand, essentially forcing my dick deeper in her mouth, I got it.

“Are you sure?” I breathed as my feet shifted, causing a deep squeaking sound followed by a sharp squeak as one of my shoes slipped on the water that must have dripped from her hair on to the floor. The old floorboards creaked again as I dug in, looking for any kind of traction as I started to pump my hips a little harder even though she hadn't replied yet.

She made a sound that had to mean yes, and that was it. My entire body felt like it was already quivering in anticipation of my release, but that didn’t stop me from taking her by the back of the head like she had shown me so I could fuck her mouth at the very brutal pace I was used to jerking myself.

All at once, the hand she had been using to assist in blowing me was down at my tensely flexed thigh, and it was joined by her other hand on my other leg shortly after my throbbing dick started to slam down what her throat.

I could see and feel her gagging a few times, but she contained that reaction very quickly. Her short nails dug into my skin, but other than that, it didn’t seem like she wanted me to stop, so I didn’t.

The familiar tension was building in my balls, and I knew the inevitable was coming. Breathing in quick shallow puffs of air as I took a few final marvelous feeling diggers at her wonderful mouth, I finally let up on her hair, letting go of her completely.

The pulsing heat was on its way.

I tried to step back, shifting my weight on one foot to back away and pull out, but she held me tight, even moving one of her hands up to cling to the bottom of my academy jacket so I couldn't escape.

My entire body shuddered as her mouth continued to glide over me. She swallowed my waves of pleasure as they tore out of me, and her other hand made sure to help drain every last quivering ounce of seed I was spurting as she milked my shaft.

I could hardly see straight. My eyes kept falling shut as I shook all over. Feeling beyond dizzy, I’d have to force them open again as I held on to her shoulders because I honestly needed the support her small frame was giving me.

It probably took me a full minute to focus my vision. When I did, I saw that she was still on her knees, but I already knew that her mouth wasn’t on me anymore. The girl’s cheeks were very red, and her eyes looked watery. She was even sniffling a little.

As the euphoria faded, my feelings of deep remorse began creeping in. I was way too rough. I forced myself down her throat, gagging her and cutting off her ability to breathe and for some reason she let me do it, but still, I shouldn't have.

Even as she wiped at her eyes and started to stand up, she tried to smile, clearly making an effort to ease my worries.

Her trembling lips looked so beautiful. I didn't understand it, or her, especially her attraction to me. I had just defiled her and treated her like my own personal cum dump, yet she looked like she was in love with me.

Her soft laugh that came out sounding so genuine as she peered up at me and it helped shake off most of the guilt I was struggling very hard to suppress.

“Again, Five Hargreeves, meeting you had been full of surprises, but also not.”

“What do you mean?” I asked as I fumbled with my underwear and my shorts, pulling them up and fastening them as best I could because I was still somewhat hard and again had to adjust myself northwards in accordance with that.

“I mean that you know what you want, and you know how to get it. I like that, so please don’t take it as a bad thing. And for the other thing, about not being surprising... Well, yeah. All guys like their dicks sucked," she said with another laugh that I think wasn't to make fun of me, but I wasn't really sure.

As was the norm in my brief conversation with the girl, I didn’t know how to reply to that.

“That was truly an unforgettable experience. You were so good at-" I started to say, but then stopped because the right words to thank her for blowing me wouldn’t form in my mouth.

“Thank you for the compliment.” She chuckled at my ineloquence as she straightened her baggy shirt, but a second later it slid down her slender shoulder again.

She crossed her arms over her chest as she continued to smile. It was as if she was waiting for something else. She probably had a right to be expecting something else from me after what she just did.

I didn't know what exactly that would be or what I should do. Hardly thinking, but at least realizing that I should say something other than a few muttered words, I began rambling again.

“Phoebe, was it?”

She smirked as she shifted her weight just a little, lifting one of her bare feet so her toes were rubbing over the top of one of my dusty black shoes. Her bare foot left a clean streak on top of the hard leather as it whipped away some of the dirt that had gotten kicked up on me from the filthy floor.

“Yes. It’s Phoebe. But you can call me Fee.” She appeared to be laughing off my only now recalling her name. “Everyone who knows me does.”

I didn't know her, but I said, “Okay, Fee.” I ran my hand back over my hair as I glanced around, feeling like a total idiot. “So, ah…you said that you don’t live here?”

“No. This place is temporary. I used to live on campus with my mom. Like I said," she laughed at me again, "I used to go there. My mom was employed by them as an instructor under a work visa, so I was lucky enough to get a chance to apply on a student visa and I got in.”

“Where’s your mom?”

I realized this was all something she mentioned before, and I also realized it was rude of me not to have asked more about her or her situation earlier, but I didn’t mention that or that I had actually thought she probably stole the uniform or that I thought she was probably making it up that she attended such a prestigious school.

“My mom passed away three months ago. They diagnosed her with stage four cancer and things happened very fast after that.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but why are you here in a place like this, hanging out on the streets at night?”

For the first time, the girl looked slightly offended. She pulled her foot back from where she had left it next to mine.

She let out a tired sounding sigh. Her eyes looked unfocused as she looked off at a pile of books on the floor next to her bedding. “The reason I am here in this dump is because I had nowhere else to go. Homeless shelters aren’t great or safe, and right now they aren’t an option for me anyway.”

“Don’t you have family?”

“All we had was each other. Mom was an only child and her parents wanted nothing to do with her after she decided to keep me.”

“Why would they do that?”

She shrugged. “Because she was so young. She was doing her own thing, traveling around the world at the time. They weren’t happy about her choice to delay going to university and then when she came home with a baby and wouldn’t tell them anything about how it happened, that was it. They were stuck up, heartless assholes who cared more about their precious reputation than their own child, so they disowned her.”

“Where are your grandparents now?”

She was giving me a look like she didn’t understand why I wasn’t getting this. “For one, those people who left my mom and I to rot are not my grandparents, and two, the last I knew, they are still in France, living just outside of Paris. When my mom was dying, social services and the kind people from U.S. immigration were ready to ship me off to go live with them but I wasn’t having that. I want nothing to do with them and I know the feeling is mutual. They were only taking me in because the law said that they had to.”

“But how are you going to live here?” I stopped and shook my head back at her in disbelief. “I don’t mean here, but like here, in the states. You can’t be much different in age than me, so you can’t live on the streets. If you were on a student visa that would mean you aren't a citizen, right?”

She all out laughed at that and rolled her eyes. “I am almost seventeen, just like you, and my citizenship in the U.S. is a temporary issue, just like my housing situation. I was born in Albania, so technically I guess that means I could claim citizenship there or in France since my mom was French, but I'm not going to do that. I am no child and I'll figure it out. Just like my mom, I am very resourceful.”

“Okay,” I replied sharply, still not understanding what this was all about. “What did you say you wanted to talk to me about? You did say that didn’t you?”

The girl named Fee unfolded arm arms, looking up at me with so much emotion in her expression that I didn’t understand.

“I wanted to tell you that there are others like you out there.”

“What? What do you mean, others like me?”

She licked her lips as her eyes pulled away from mine, looking across the room at the rusty old desk pushed up against the farthest wall. The candles she had grouped together on top of it suddenly flickered. It must have been a gust of wind that blew in from the hole in the roof on the other side of the wall, but to me, it felt like it was getting hotter in there, not colder as the storm outside got stronger and the rain pelted down harder on the roof.

A sad looking smile appeared in place of her other mysterious expression as she looked back up at me.

“I mean that you and your adoptive siblings aren’t the only ones that were born with special powers.”

Taking a step back, I cocked my chin to the side as I narrowed my eyes at her.

“How would you know that? What is this really about? Why do I get the feeling that you are full of shit and that you are trying to get something out of me with all this?”

I shot off that rapid fire of questions and none of them came out very nice, but I couldn't help myself. I was getting very defensive and anxious all of a sudden.

The heat in the room vanished and I could see my breath and hers.

Something felt very wrong.

There was a small puff of air out of her nose and that pretty smile disappeared. “I want a lot of things, but I don’t like what you are implying. I didn’t ask you to meet me so I could get something from you. And I know that there are others like you because I met one of them.”

“Okay, so you say you’ve met one of these other super powered people out there and I’m just supposed to take your word for it? I don’t even know you, so I have no reason to trust a word you say, and what difference does it make if there are other kids like me and my family out there. Why should I care?”

“You should care because Sir Reginal Hargreeves isn’t telling you guys everything he knows and he is clearly using you, and you are right, you don’t know me, but you did just blow your wad in my mouth, so I think that makes us somewhat friendly, wouldn’t you say? You trusted me enough to do that, so why are you being like this to me now?"

My jaw dropped as I clenched my fists at my sides.

“What, you think that you can shower me with compliments and flirt with me and then give me a blow job and then what, I’m going to ask you to come back to the Academy with me and we are going to live happily ever after or some other crazy delusional shit like that?”

Her laughter would have sounded beautiful if it wasn’t coming out to mock me. “Wow! No, that is not what this was about. I told you that I liked you because I do, or I did. Now I feel very stupid for letting myself feel that way about you.”

The girl’s eyes glossed over as she poked a finger at my chest, pushing me back with it, proving that even though she was smaller than me, she was not scared of me, and I didn't like that one bit.

“I actually looked up to you. Fuck!" she furiously yelled as she threw her hands up. "Stupid me because I even idolized you out of all of them! I thought you were different and that you would care to know that you were being lied to.”

“I don’t get it!” I yelled back. “Nothing you just said matters even if it were true. I already know that my dad is using us! There is nothing to idolize about my life, so you were wrong in thinking anything like that involving me. You don’t know what it’s like to be one of us!”

“Yeah, I don’t. You are right about that, but I didn’t idolize you because of your life. I just thought you were something you weren’t. I do know people and when I saw all your fake smiles, I knew that you weren't happy and that you aren’t being given a choice in how you live. I just wanted to let you know that you have one if you are willing to take it. If anything, I wasn’t trying to shack up with you and all the cool kids at the super powered snob academy. I was actually foolishly thinking you might want to leave that place. You don’t owe that horrible man anything for taking you in. You’d be fine if you left him.”

“And how do you know that, huh? You seem to think you know a lot of things, but I really doubt that. I'm also doubting that anything that comes out of your mouth is true.”

If looks could kill, I would have been dead.

“God damn, Five, you are mean when all the walls come crashing down around you," she spat back hatefully. "I never would have guessed you would have been like this.” She laughed away her tears and straightened her back as she stared me down. “You are right. I don’t know everything, but now I can see that you aren't who I thought. You are a total prick who lashes out at anyone that threatens the bogus reality you built around yourself."

“Oh yeah! And what bogus reality are you referring to?”

“The one where you are so terrified of being rejected that you do everything in your power to make it seem like being loved or accepted doesn’t matter to you. You are scared of making yourself vulnerable but it's the only way you will ever get the thing you really want which is acknowledgement. Even big arrogant assholes like you want to be liked. Actually, people like you want it more than anything and I'm pretty sure that’s part of your problem. I know that you and your family aren’t in that place because you want to be. I just thought that maybe knowing that you weren’t alone with your powers out here in this messed up real world would help you see that you could walk away from all that crap, and it would be okay. Like I said, I really liked you, Five. I was wrong to care, but I did.”

My mind was a torrent of thoughts about what she said. It felt like she was deliberately trying to hurt me, and it made me so fucking mad that she was talking about majorly private things like she could see right through me. It was like she knew just how to push my buttons.

I couldn't let her get the better of me.

I had never felt so weak and exposed, not even when I was younger and dad verbally tore me apart, or when he would leave me broken and sick with blood oozing out of my nose and ears from over exertion after one of our lovely private training sessions. He didn’t care about me at all even though I desperately wanted him to. To make that all even worse, it was Grace that would have to scoop my limp body off the floor. My traitorous tears would stain her cheerfully patterned dresses as she did her best to sooth me in her motherly yet robotically programmed way. It was just another hit, another insult among so many others that slowly closed off my heart to the world around me.

“I am not scared of anything, and you don’t know anything about me!" I screamed. "You are a dirty, homeless, Umbrella Academy obsessed slut that is just disappointed that I am not falling for your manipulative bullshit. You have no fucking clue what you are talking about, not about my family, or about what I want!”

I watched her confidence crumble with each cruel word I said.

I smiled.

The candles flickered again, this time the room became fully dark before the flames calmed and it slowly illuminated again. During that confusing and rage-filled moment, she must have swiftly stepped back away from me because now her back was up against the wall, and she was standing on sparkling shards of glass from one of the broken windows. She looked terrified and it was clear that getting away from me was more important than preventing foot lacerations.

My mind was a mess. Her hands were in front of her, held up in a defensive way. She actually thought I was going to try to hurt her and that and seeing her bleeding feet made me even more mad.

“Sure, whatever, just calm down," she said. Her body was visibly shaking, and her voice quivered in fear even though all I had done was yell sort of crazily at her. “I am sorry I wasted my time telling you that stuff. I thought maybe you would have already started to piece all that stuff together and that it was possible you already knew that you guys weren’t the only ones born this way. If you didn’t know, I thought you’d care and maybe you'd at least want to meet my friend, but I see now that you don’t and that this was a big misconception on my part.”

There was a moment of silence and in it, I thought about telling her that I thought she was a lying piece of trash, but something in me knew that was going too far and that it wasn’t fair to do to her after everything that I had already just said and after everything that had just happened between us.

I had no right to call her a dirty slut. If she was one, then I was worse.

None of this was right or fair, not my life or hers, but I couldn’t wrap my head around the truth of that or the things she said, and I unleashed my hatred and resentment on her with no filter.

“Please just leave,” she whispered as her tear-filled eyes fell to her injured feet.

With a sudden flash of blue and an instinctive blink, I did go, but I couldn’t let go but I couldn't let it go.

~~~~~~~

Then the next evening at dinner with my family, I made an even bigger mistake. After agonizing all day over what happened, I found the silence of my siblings ignoring each other, as dad ignored all of us, too much to take. Not even Vanya’s worried looks were enough to thwart my immense anger.

I hated all of this.

I hated my life.

After starting a useless argument about my abilities with dad and getting his usual nonsense that I wasn’t good enough to time travel, with the smile of a mad man pulling on my lips, I took off out of the dining room as he called out begging me to come back.

For the first time ever, Reginald sounded scared.

And he should have been. I was about to ruin my life.

I was about to walk away from it all and leave them and all my pain behind.

Riding high on adrenaline and defiance, at first, I thought I’d done it.

As I propelled my body forward in time, the atoms crackling and snapping as they repeatedly broke apart and pieced back together, I sent myself years ahead of them. I appeared out of my burst of blue swirling light while sprinting down the block away from our home.

I felt free for the first time ever.

I couldn’t control it, but I foolishly thought I could. I kept pushing forward, thrusting my power out like never before and I felt so fucking superior compared to the world around me while doing it.

They were wrong!

That girl was wrong!

Dad was wrong!

I knew that I was better than them and this proved it.

Then, I stopped in my tracks, looking around me, my mind muddled in sudden confusion.

My entire world was on fire.

Panicking, I tried to go back but my power failed me, again and again.

I ran down the block, dodging burning debris as I raced back to my family.

Stopping at the crumbling gates of what was once my home, I watched with tears streaming down my face as the flames and black smoke rose out of the piles of rubble. 

Everything was gone.

They were all dead, and it was just me on what was left of our burning planet, stuck twelve years in the future.

For the first time, I had no one left to blame but myself.

-----------------------------------------

Chapter Four: Train Wreck Fucking Dumpster Fire

The funny thing about passing out is you don't remember doing it, but as I come to, it's pretty obvious I fainted.

I am extremely disoriented, and my face feels like it slammed straight into the ground. Consequently, I have several loose teeth. I can still taste the coppery taste of blood in my gummy mouth, and I can feel a disgusting layer of dried spittle on my chin.

I roll over on my back with a low, very pained sounding groan crawling out of me.

I am hardly functioning well enough to take stock of my situation, but I know that I need to. It’s still light out and the ruthless heat hasn’t let up. With an even sicker feeling sinking in, I realize I might be paralyzed from the waist down, because when I try to move my legs, I can’t. After a few more tries, I find that I can move them but it’s extremely minimal.

“Dolores?” I weakly cry.

I can see her. She’s trapped in our cart, watching me splayed out on my back, sizzling like I am laying in a huge frying pan.

My heart feels like it’s trying to jump right out of my chest, and that’s because my body is fighting to maintain its required oxygen levels. I am no doctor, but I am aware that I’m dangerously overheating.

I fall over and over and over as I ineffectively try to get up.

I helplessly cry out again.

This pattern goes on for an undetermined amount of time and that’s because I black out several more times. Each attempt only pushes me further past my limit, causing my blood pressure to drop even lower.

It’s not until waking in the darkness that I am able to stay awake long enough to pull the wagon closer.

I know that I am going to die here and it’s from my own foolish mistakes.

I never should have left the city where I at least knew my surroundings and had some idea of what to expect. Again, my inability to question my own flawed reasoning is what has placed me in the hands of yet another cruel and torturous fate.

As I tug the strap that’s still hooked around me, the tires of my cart slowly roll up next to my side. From there I can wrench myself up enough to reach inside and pull out our bag with filled with the minimal food rations we have left.

I have no actual water, but I am literally dying for even the smallest amount of it. If I don’t get some moisture in me, my organs will start to shut down. My blood is already full of toxic levels of sludge.

‘You have to get up, Five. I’m getting really scared.’ 

“I know. I am sorry. I'm trying,” I say in panting gasps for breath.

My head is pounding, and I can hardly bring myself to say that, even though Dolores deserves so much more from me after all I have put her through.

Struggling to open the tin can with my corroded opener takes every bit of focus and strength I have left. After shakily wolfing down the mystery contents, I drop the rest of the way back down to the ground, falling against the sun hardened soil hard enough to give myself whiplash.

I black out again and I don’t wake until the next day when the sun’s rays are beating down on us all over again. Upon first opening my eyes, I am greeted with the evidence of my dinner on the ground next to my bruised face. I only vaguely remember vomiting.

I still can’t move my legs enough to get myself up and stay up, but I do manage to pull my injured foot within reach, and with extreme difficulty, I eventually get my boot off and roll up my pant leg to examine the damage.

I am greeted with the tell-tale signs of advanced inflammation, rash, and intense red lines streaming from the soiled bandages. The markings move all the way up what I can see of my leg, and I know this is very bad news and it’s the reason I am in such bad shape.

Infection is a big mean bitch and she’s clearly out to get me with vengeance because I am a supreme asshole.

I cleaned the laceration as best I could when it happened, and I covered it and taped over the hole in my boot. I took the antibiotics I had with me in my medical kit, but that evidently wasn’t enough. Some kind of nasty bacteria must have gotten inside the wound anyway. The drugs were expired but I had thought they were still good and not rendered useless by the extreme temperatures they have been exposed to, but like so many other things, I was wrong in thinking that. I was also very stupid to wander after dark in what was left of that house that I came past because that’s when the knife-like shard of glass sliced right through my weathered leather boot and dug deeper in when I tripped and fell further on to it.

Ironically, I am going to die next to a gigantic crater made by what I presume had to have been something from outer space and was also probably the same thing that is responsible for killing everyone else. The size of the hole indicates that the piece of space rock that collided here was big enough to end all life on Earth, so that at least explains what happened. For all I know, this may not be the only place of impact. Based on what seems to be complete ecosystem failure in every direction I have gone, I am betting it isn’t.

Up until now, I could only guess it was the fucking moon or a meter or something like that smashing into Earth that ended it all, because the newspapers I found didn’t have any talk of looming nuclear war and he moon was missing. I had found it very suspicious that my childhood home was destroyed right before the rest of the world was left in ruins, but perhaps the two things had nothing to do with each other. The eyeball Luther was holding likely means nothing world saving and has nothing to do with the lack of lunar activity in my sky, but I’ll never know.

The thought of laying here, again all day, slow cooking until I am gone, with the pain I am already in… I just can’t.

As I start to lose it and hot tears distort my vision, I feel a manic smile pulling at my cracked lips.

“Dolores, this is it,” I hoarsely laugh, crazed over the fact that after suffering over these years here, this is how I go. “If I could just get back, I might be able to save them somehow, but I failed them and everyone else.” One single tear tries to escape the corner of my eye, but it doesn’t make it far. The arid air sucks it away, just like it’s going to soon devour me.

Feeling a final burst of panic and desperation mixed with sheer terror that I am clearly having a problem suppressing, I throw everything I have left into sitting up one more time. Reaching for the wagon, I tip the whole thing on its side, dumping our belongings and my beloved onto the ground next to me.

“I’m sorry,” I gasp over and over as I tow Dolores across the dirt into my arms. My body shudders as I fold myself around her rigid frame, looking for the comfort that she is always willing to give. Even she feels like she’s on fire, but I won’t let her go.

At least we can lay here together, burning.

‘I love you so much,’ she whispers in her unconditional, beautifully compassionate way.

“I know. I love you too, sweetheart. I am so fucking sorry.”

Not at all thinking straight, when I open my eyes again, looking over her shoulder, I see the shiny black revolver laying there. My labored breath catches, and I instantaneously reach for it.

‘Don’t,’ Dolores frantically begs.

She knows the real reason I carry this gun with us, and it isn’t for protection or hunting. There is nothing to hunt and no one we need protection from other than me.

My throat makes a thick, sticky sound when I try to swallow. I can feel my hand shaking as I clamp my eyes shut. The barrel of the gun is painfully hot as I drive it inside my mouth.

‘Please, Five. No!’

God damn it!

Yanking the gun back, I scream as I pull the fucking trigger over and over, sending a deafening round after round out into the nothing around us.

Rage and defeat and pain, that’s all there is left as my hand flops down and I drop the weapon so I can hold her. Again, I tell the only person that ever loved me that I am sorry I failed them as I shut my eyes and wait for the hurt to end.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sometime later, I’m pulled from unconsciousness by something other than the dead silence of our wasteland of death.

Other than the sound of rain, wind, or things that are storm related, there is usually no other background noise in my world. Sometimes the eerie sound of a building collapsing, or even the explosions that were very frequent in those beginning months, could make me look up from whatever pile of rubble I was digging around in, but that is very infrequent these days. There is no reason to look up now.

I stopped hoping to hear real voices a long time ago. This strange sound in the distance isn’t a voice, but it is another human made sound I am familiar with.

The low, echoing bang, bang, bang fills the crater in the vast open space around me, causing the sound to circle back in an impressive refraction of sound.

My breaths are coming so shallow at this point, I know I am not going to make it to nightfall. I feel like I can’t even open my eyes, but my mind is processing this.

Bang, bang, bang....

It happens again in a steady pattern that seems intentional.

I know that sound. I can’t tell what direction it’s coming from, but I know what it is.

It's a powerful gun, one like a rifle and the way sounds when you fire it.

Guns need people to fire them...

But I’m alone. This doesn’t make sense.

Just as I’m drifting off again, it happens again. Three times.

Bang, bang, BANG!

Even though I am hardly thinking, it dawns on me that this is similar to the pattern for Morse code. It’s like someone is sending out a distress signal.

I begin forcing my filmy eyes open, peering out as they burn and blur. Of course, I see nothing other than the heat waves swimming across the ground, creating a mirage effect that makes it look like I’m lying in a river of water, dying by drowning rather than baking like a pathetically skeletal and unsatisfying piece of meat.

Sliding my hand a few inches from where it’s been feebly pressed against Dolores's back, I bump into the revolver.

My stiff fingers wrap around the scorching grip. I am unable to raise my arm, but I twist my wrist enough to fire the weapon out at a small angle from the ground.

The popping sound reverberates in the otherwise motionless air. The sound repeats over and over until it fades away.

I wait because I have nothing else that I can do.

Nothing. Just silence.

I start to think I imagined hearing anything at all.

I shut my eyes again.

I only had one shot left. I left one in the chamber on purpose. That small piece of lead had been my last chance to end my suffering quicker. I had decided I couldn’t do it, but that doesn’t mean that knowing the option was still there wasn't something that was giving me some fucked-up form of solace if I couldn’t take this anymore.

The hope that someone is out there is what circles around and around in what is left of my mind as I drift off into the fiery nothing that makes my parched body rack in waves of fevered chills until even that subsides again.

~~~~~~~~~~~

My mind is gone, lost to the insanity of my thirst. I know this because I swear, I just heard a braaaping, rumbling like sound moving across the landscape somewhere not that far away.

Hearing things that don’t make sense, that’s how the mind of a once admired genius is going out. Figures.

The idea that it might be thunder hits me and that idea isn’t that nuts, but it’s too late anyway. Even if it did rain, I have no way of collecting it in this condition and I still have a raging infection taking hold of me at an alarmingly fast rate, and that’s no doubt because it’s being fueled by extreme dehydration.

In my confused state, it does eventually occur to me that thunder doesn’t sound like this. It stops, then there’s intermittent random intervals between the growls.

This isn’t stopping and it’s getting closer, but I still don’t understand what it is.

Sudden thoughts of getting eaten by a monstrous creature from my childhood nightmares terrorize my mind even though that’s so far out there and doesn’t make any damn sense.

The only thing that gets me to open my eyes at this point is my crazed level of dread over what I perceive to be a very frightening sound. I am sure that a terrifying beast is bounding across the dirt and is about to dig its jagged teeth into me, ripping my body to shreds any second.

Squinting, I don’t understand what I’m seeing even though I am seeing it.

A cloud of dust is blooming out from what looks like a very fast-moving metallic object. My fingernails dig into the hard clay as I try to push up so I can look at it as it shoots past, but I can’t raise my head enough and I lose sight of it.

Holy Shit!

It’s not a huge, green scaly monster!

Panic rips through me when I finally realize that someone or something just drove past me.

Help.

I try to scream but I can’t even do that anymore.

“Help!” My voice cracks. The word comes out so weak, the sound of it feels like it’s sucked up in a vacuum. The effort of my sobs and the thundering vibration sends pain buzzing through my head.

My brain feels like it’s going to rattle out of my skull. If I could cover my ears I would, but my arms are near useless at this point as they remain tangled around Dolores.

The piercing sound abruptly stops but the ringing in my ears doesn’t.

I swear I hear the garbled sounds of a voice behind me. Then all of a sudden, I see legs! I can’t focus my vision enough to see anything other than what has to be a person's shoes.

It’s a real fucking person!

This time when I try to speak, my plea for help comes out as an unintelligible and pathetically pained moan.

“Shit, shit, shit,” the voice curses repeatedly as their figure looms over me.

I feel the strange sense of something touching my neck, pulling down my scarf as what must be cool fingers press just under my jaw, up against my windpipe. Then I hear more cursing and the same fingers traveling along my exposed leg all the way down to my bare foot.

Again, I moan, and I moan even more when Dolores suddenly gets removed from my limp arms.

“No,” I breathe in protest to the blurry face in front of mine.

The sun is setting, I can tell that much. The pink rays from it are reflecting off this person’s reflective goggles.

Even though they are very cautious about it, when they lift just my head up off the ground, it leaves me feeling like I am a piece of petrified gum being pried off the bottom of a table at a greasy dinner.

God…I miss Griddys. I would die for a donut and a coffee.

Not happening, and you ARE dying, you crazy dipshit!

I whimper as my body protests the movement and my head sickly swims as it lays in what I assume is this person's lap.

A distinctly female sounding voice coming from above tenderly hushes my cries. “Hang in there. I am going to help you.”

Her hand brushes across my grimy forehead, sliding back the wrap of my scarf from my head. Then, though it’s impossible, the person’s hand stops in place over my throbbing brain, and both my skin and her hand seem to get remarkably colder. It feels heavenly and I don’t care at all when the icy fingers gently slip over my eyes too.

A divine liquid begins to tickle my split and bloodied lips, making me instantaneously respond by opening them further to accept the glacially cold water being offered.

“There, that’s it,” she encourages, to which I sputter and cough violently on the first swallow. The water stops so I can catch my breath, then I feel the bottle press against my mouth again. “Try to go slow.”

It doesn’t matter that I can see nothing and I’m totally at their mercy. I’d do anything this angel said.

The hand shielding my eyes and making my aching head feel so much better, moves away, only to be replaced a moment later, cooler again. It feels like actual ice, not the palm of someone’s hand.

I can’t help but marvel over the glorious feel of it. It reminds me of when I was just a little boy and I had the flu so bad that Grace had to stay with me all night, repeatedly doing anything and everything she could to ease my pain, including placing dozens of cold clothes against my burning brow.

The water stops when I start coughing again, and the icy feeling moves to my neck again, trying to unfurrow the tight wrapping even more.

“There, that’s better.” It feels like chilly kisses are covering my skin as she touches me. My body shivers. “You are really burning up. You are lucky I had a flat tire moment where I did, because that's the only reason I heard you trying to signal for help. If I'd found you sooner..." She pauses to wipe my face with something. I have no idea what with, but it feels so much better after some of the filth is removed. "I have been looking for you all day. But there’s nothing out here. That’s why I didn’t come out this far until now. When I heard that last shot, I knew you were due west of me, so I knew you had to be somewhere near the crater, which also explains why I was able to hear the shots from that far away. There’s nothing out here to absorb the sound.”

It seems like she's trying to apologize. At first, I don’t know what she’s talking about with the signal thing, but after a minute or so of slowly drinking this stranger’s extremely valuable water, I remember.

Those first shots she’s talking about weren’t a signal for help, at least not in the way she thinks.

The hand on my head moves away and I hear her rummaging through my things. Thanks to having some liberation from the oppressive heat, I am able to find the strength to open my eyes so I can find Dolores. I have to know if she’s okay.

I quickly see that she is, but she’s been discarded in the pile of my other things. I want to reach out to her, but I’m not sure if I can. She tells me it’s okay and to keep drinking, so I do as she says.

I see the woman’s hand snatching up the bottle of antibiotics that I had tried to use. She holds it up above me so she can read it.

“They didn’t work,” I whisper as water runs down my chin.

She seems startled by me talking. “Clearly not,” she mutters before going back to propping my head more so I can drink easier.  She tosses the pills aside and presses her cold hand to my head again. “By the looks of things, you are going to need something that does work as soon as possible, and I don’t have anything with me, or a way to get you back with me to where I do unless you can get up and hold on to me as we ride.”

She says it all so fast, and with the way my brain is working, I don’t get that I’m supposed to respond. All I can think about is how great this feels and how awesome it would have been to have had a working vehicle of any kind over the last two weeks. My mechanical abilities are far from anything even remotely helpful and though at times I have had vehicles started and used them, keeping them working is another story and getting them around in this disaster is a whole different challenge that makes walking much more logical.

But then again, this magical woman did it, so maybe I should have tried harder.

“Well, do you think you can? Hold on to me, I mean?” she asks, interrupting my ridiculously scattered thoughts.

She pulls back the water and after swallowing my thick saliva a few times, and forcing my brain to work somewhat more rationally, I reply very quietly. “I can’t get up.”

The woman sighs but it doesn’t sound like she's mad about my predicament and what she says next proves that she's not.

“That’s okay. I can go back and get medicine. I will come back for you.”

“No,” I moan like a big baby.

“It’s okay, I promise I’ll come back. Driving around out here is not easy on everyday tires but I have an off-road jeep that can make the journey if I am very careful. It’s going to take maybe two hours or more depending on a few factors, but I don’t know how else to do it. If I try to pull you in this wagon, for one you won't fit, and two, I am not sure you’ll make it. It’s too far and it’s going to take too long,” she explains, already shifting my head off her lap.

I have no ability to stop her from leaving. I can only impotently let her position my head on the jacket she just took off and rolled up into a makeshift pillow for me.

As I lay on my side watching her scrambling around, I can see her some better. As I already gathered, my rescuer is a female. Since she took off her protective outer layer, sacrificing it to me, I can see that she’s wearing a rainbow colored, tie-dyed sleeveless top that’s cropped at the bottom. It reminds me of something Klaus would try to get away with wearing under his uniform jacket whenever dad wasn’t around. In my moment of delusion, I find that old memory of him, defiantly strutting around the academy until he got caught and severely punished, very funny for some reason.

The muscles in my face try to pull my mouth in a look to reflect that sentimental yet sad thought but I am not sure I am actually smiling.

Her pants look almost identical to mine in their utilitarian, multi pocket, militaristic style, but hers are forest green, not grunge covered gray. Her arms and her midriff are tanned unlike mine. I almost always stay covered out of necessity. I am like a ghost.

She looks healthy. Contrasting my dreadful condition, she isn’t skin and bones, but she is very thin and couldn’t be more than a hundred pounds, standing at about five-three in her laced-up riding boots. Even from my spot laying on the ground looking up, I can tell she’s petite.

When she pulls my cart over, I can see her muscles straining. She places it behind me where the sun’s setting rays are burning my back. I feel the instant relief from the small shade it provides.

After doing that, she comes around in front of me, looking for a few more things as her lengthy braid swings across her back. Her hair looks reddish or maybe it’s just the light from the setting sun. I can’t tell.

This time when she comes to me, I can see her face because her goggles are pushed up and her own scarf is pulled down, revealing rosy cheek bones and vibrant blue eyes. She is all color and glowing life compared to the muted harsh tones of this barren landscape, but it’s the kind looking and startlingly familiar smile that makes me suddenly stop breathing. It looks so much like the one that’s been haunting me since I saw it over five years ago.

This smile is a shade different. It’s slightly more mature, along with the face wearing it, but…

Holy Hell.

Phoebe?

Quickly running the math in my mind, I conclude that she’d be thirty-three years old now, not twenty-one like I am, and that is because for her, it would have been twelve years before the world abruptly ended and then five years since. For me, my world crashed and burned just one day after I met her. 

This couldn’t be her. That’s crazy.

My heart feels like it could stop even though it’s dangerously racing as my body aggressively refuses to give up in its fight to stay in the world of the living-the world that I just found out I am not the only living member of.

The woman gets down next to me again, her hand coming up to my face to turn my chin to her bottle the way she did before. Her impossibly icy hand presses against my chapped cheek and I lean into it.

“Come on. Let’s get the rest of this in you. I will leave you with more water and if you feel better from drinking that one, maybe you could eat something?” She waves her hand at my last three cans of food that I only now see that she placed within reach. “Don’t worry, I have more.” I can tell that she’s concerned about my hollow looking appearance as her eyes slowly move over my face. She purses her pink lips unhappily. “I won’t take long. Now that I finally found someone, there’s no way in hell I’m going to let them die,” she declares with a breathy chuckle. "The real problem seems to be that you are about as dried out as someone can get before becoming one with the dirt. I don’t think this infection is that bad yet, but I’m sure it feels that way with everything else you have going on. I have strong meds and I know they will work. You are going to make it, I promise.”

Even if I wasn't drinking and I could reply, I wouldn’t know what to say. A thank you would be a start but there’s so much more than that running through my mixed-up head.

Of all the people that could finally find me, it’s her. I know it is. It’s her voice too. I recognize it now. It’s impossible, just like her velvety cold touch in this heat, but it’s her.

After assuring me that I’m going to live, she patiently stays with me utill I finish all her water. And just like she said, she brings back another and it’s equally cold. I can even see the condensation on the outside of the metal canteen.

Crouching down, she reaches for my left wrist, removing my clenched fingers from the ground so she can make me take the bottle from her. My filthy shirt sleeve pulls up from the motion.

“Do you-" Her words abruptly cut off as her eyes land on my tattoo. “No way…” Her lips part and her brows furrow as she stares at the black umbrella branding that I was adorned with as a child. “You can’t be…” She leans in closer, her eyes wide as they look into mine.

All I can do is lay there and stare back, feeling some better but still very much like death and feel equally as floored as she is that this is happening. After a minute of us looking at each other, in utter shock and disbelief, I finally speak up, confirming what I'm sure she's figuring out.

“I am sorry, Fee,” I breathe.  

The line between her brow grows deeper.

“Five?”

“Yeah.”

She shakes her head back and forth as she unscrews the cap and pushes the next bottle closer to my mouth.

“Thank you,” I feebly offer, because I can’t think of anything else to say and I feel like I might throw up the precious water I just guzzled, so I focus on keeping that down and just breathing instead.

My eyes followed her hand as she reaches out and brushes back some of my long hair that’s stuck to various areas of my gritty face. Her amazing fever reducing fingers run along my jawline as she inspects me. I clench the bottle tighter to my chest as I force a few deep breaths in place of my extremely shallow ones.

I know what she is seeing and I’m sure it doesn’t look good. The look of malnourishment mixing with the scruffy, dark, almost black hair growing on my weather-beaten skin, are probably making it very hard to tell that I am the stuck-up jerk that she had so badly wanted to meet when she was just young girl who wanted so desperately to believe that someone like me was actually going to care about someone like her.

“How is this possible?” she asks, her voice coming out in beautifully hushed sounding wonder. “I mean, how did you end up here? They said you disappeared. It was the day right after that night. You look so…”

She doesn’t finish her thought, so I can only guess what she was going to say. Perhaps it's that I look terrible or maybe even that I look weirdly childish. Both would be right because I am basically a heap of useless garbage, and in spite of the way I look, I am a real grown-up like she is, but I am sure I look much younger still because of all the intermittent rounds of starvation I've been through, this moment being one of them.

Also, am not as old at her even though at one time, we were the same age.

I physically changed in the last five years, but definitely not for the better.

I shut my eyes for a second or two before reopening to the slightest traces of tears trying to form anyway. Rather than looking angry that the last man on Earth is probably the last person she’d want it to be, she looks so incredibly troubled.

“Have you been here the entire time?”

I can feel my lips trembling, but I can’t help it. I feel so awful, and that, and the memories of all that has happened since I last saw her, are merging with my current state of mind and it isn’t putting me in a very good place to act better.

“It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. You don’t have to talk.” She leans in, anxiously adjusting her jacket under my head. Then she tries to move my legs in a more comfortable way for me. Everything hurts and I know she can tell because she moves a blanket from my pack, placing it between my knees so my bones don’t rub together so badly.

More tears threaten to spill over that simple, kind act, but what Phoebe does next for me is nothing but extraordinary.

Folding her hands together as if she’s trying to crush something between her cupped palms, she shuts her eyes tightly. Her whole body seems to tremble from the effort of what she's doing. A moment later, she opens her hands, and at the same time, she reveals what looks like small ice chunks. Reaching up and taking her yellow bandana from around her neck, she dumps the sparkling crystals in the fabric and then props the cold pack against my forehead.

Totally thrown by this, I look over at Dolores.

"It’s her, the one you told me about and she’s special, like you. You’re going to make it, Five!’

Even though there’s tears in Dolores’s eyes, she sounds so happy.

“Can you make it till I get back?” Phoebe’s worried eyes run over me again and it reminds me of exactly how Dolores looks at me when she's distressed over something dumb that I'm doing or have already done despite her warnings.

 Jeezus. I am such a dickhead.

“Yes,” I croak.

She nods, then pushes herself up.

“It’s going to be dark soon, but don’t worry, I am coming back no matter what, so don’t die on me or I am going to be super pissed, Hargreeves.” The corner of her mouth quirks up just a bit.  “And I don’t mean pissed like I was the last time I saw your stupidly handsome face.”

Even though she’s rightly concerned about leaving, she is trying to ease my worries by teasing me and it makes my chest hurt even more. The foreign sound of her unrestrained laughter is so nice to hear. Like years ago, when I first heard it, I love how it sounds and makes me feel.

It’s nuts considering how close I am to death, but my chest is moving up and down as air swiftly moves in and out of my lungs and I could almost laugh over that threatening, and insulting, and sort of flattering comment she just gave me.

She had once told me she thought I was so smart and handsome, and hearing her praise made my head even bigger than it already was. I was so pathetically starved for attention; she was right about that and so many other things she said about me. But we both know she was wrong in both those two assessments. 

Something in my expression must amuse her even more because she smiles at me in that full way that I remember her doing that one fateful night.

I still don’t understand it.

She begins to move behind me where I presume her motorbike is, but all of a sudden, she stops. Swiftly bending down, she takes Dolores by the crook of her arm, hoisting her up.

Placing Dolores down next to me, Fee smiles again, but this time it’s at her, not me.

“Please make sure that he drinks that and doesn’t kick the bucket before I get back.”

Fee is talking as if Dolores can understand her, which of course she can, but it’s still throwing me to see her talking to her the same way I do.

Even weirder, Dolores replies that she will, and I'm so confused, I am only halfway certain Fee didn't hear it. Either way, seeming satisfied with how she’s leaving me, my savior moves to go, swiftly heading out of my sight as I drowsily close my eyes.

“I don’t deserve this, Phoebe.”

There were so many things I didn’t see that one night we were together. I was just a stupid teenaged boy that couldn't concern myself with looking at other people and their suffering. She tried to tell me who she was, and what she could do, but I ignored it. I used her and then I viciously put her down for daring to point out the truth that I was too stubborn and arrogant to see. I have had many lonely years to think about that night and I have never forgiven myself for it or for so many other horrible things I did.

Phoebe comes back. She bends down in front of me. Again, she pushes the bottle towards my mouth. “Yes, you do. You deserve what happened to you. Now don’t die.”

Her lips spread in the most curious looking smirk, then she gets up, and this time I know she’s leaving when I hear the loud roar of the two-stroke engine revving a few times before she tears off over the empty landscape.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fee does come back, but I have no idea how long she was gone because after slowly finishing the next canteen, I drifted off in a fit of intense shivers.

Waking to the sight of hazy headlights beaming across the open field couldn’t be a better feeling even though my fever is so much worse again. I’m shaking even more, but it’s not from cold.

I peer out from under my blanket. The wind picked up at some point and it’s whipping across the landscape, covering me in suffocating dust. I can just make her out as she rushes my way from the driver side of the vehicle.

“You still in there, Five?” she anxiously questions the moment she’s on her knees in front of me.

Dolores gets moved back again. A cold hand covers my heated brow.

“Yes,” I cough out, proving that I’m alive.

“Come on,” she says as she starts uncovering me, “we need to get you away from this enormous shit hole you decided to take a dirt nap by.”

My body isn’t working, and I can hardly find the strength to cling to her as she lifts me, but she manages to roll me into a sitting position.

“Alrighty, on three. I am going to pick you up, just hang on. I will try to take as much of your weight as I can, okay?”

“Okay.”

“One, two, thrrr…eeEE!  Shhhh- shhh -IT!”

She gets me up alright, but right after that, my weight proves too much for her when my body limply tumbles into hers. I nearly knock us both back down to the ground. Stumbling backwards, Fee’s knees swiftly lock and the heels of her boots skit and skirt in the dirt before plowing down to prevent our fall.

“I was not expecting you to be so heavy,” she gasps.

She is clearly struggling, and I feel awful about that and just plain awful, especially when I start to dry heave on her. Thankfully nothing comes out or she'd have puke running down her back.

“I am sorry,” I wheeze, holding her as tight as I can. I try to put weight on my good foot and the other but the lightning like jolts of pain shooting up from my feet are making my legs about as useful as mush.

“It’s okay,” she grates out through what sounds like very clenched teeth.

My feet all but drag as she trudges the few yards to the jeep where she smartly left one of the back doors open. I tumble into the back seat, then Fee has to pull me the rest of the way in from the other side.

I feel so sick, more heaves have me hanging my head down to the floor as I start to weakly cry. “Dolores!” I sob just as Fee slams the door shut.

There is no way to explain how relieved I feel when the door opens again and Phoebe has her. The backseat area is cramped but Fee throws the passenger seat forward and places Dolores on the floor in the back behind it so she's easily within my reach.  

If Fee sees me crying, she doesn’t let on. As soon as she saves Dolores, she's off again and all I can do is lay here. My head feels like it’s spinning as I listen to the back hatch open and things banging around. I realize that she must be loading my things, and even maybe my treasured cart, but I can’t help her.

It doesn’t take more than a few minutes before she’s done and back with me. Opening the back door, opposite from where my head is, Phoebe gets back in. The dome light is dim when she flicks it on, but I can see that her bright clothing is now covered in the same silt that I am bathed in. Not stopping, she reaches in front and grabs a bag. Taking things out, she immediately starts cleaning her hands with sanitizing wipes and what smells like rubbing alcohol.

“I know you feel horrible, and this ride isn’t going to help that, but I am going to try to make it as tolerable as I can.”

I silently lay there, watching as she discards her soiled materials on the floor at her feet, and then starts in, working the button on my cuff so she can get my sleeve up on my left arm.

“It's been a long time, but I have done this many times back when my mom was sick, so don’t be scared, I sort of know what I am doing.” She laughs but it sounds nervous despite her assurances and shot at humor over what has to be a very sad and tragic memory.

The chill of the alcohol as she cleans my skin sends a new wave of shudders through my burning body. I shut my eyes as I feel the syringe prick me, then I hear the ripping of tape before she seals the needle down on my arm so it can’t slip out.

“Okay. That part was easier than I thought. Your veins are very easy to see.”

She breathes a sigh of relief as she scrambles around. Peering up at her again, I see her pulling out a clear bag of fluid and more medicines and supplies all in sterile wrappings.

“I found all this stuff at a clinic that was miraculously still mostly standing. The drugs should be good,” she explains as she hangs the bag on the clothing hook above my head and extends the clear plastic tubing down, attaching it to one of the two ports sticking out of my arm. “We are going to pump you full of nutrients and I will inject the Ceftriaxone all one go. It’s great for treating infections that other antibiotics might not be able to fight, so I'm sure it will do the trick.”

With a determined look in her eyes, she lays her fingers against my arm to steady them so she can slowly inject the drug into the other port that isn’t attached to the bag over my head.

“There, two things out of the way.” Fee appears apologetic for leaning on me as she adjusts herself a little, moving her weight off my pelvis, but I hadn’t even noticed her backside was pressed up on me. “I need to watch you for a little while, just to make sure you aren’t having any bad reactions to the meds. Then, if this part goes well, I have something I can give you to help you get through the trip back to where I have safe shelter,” she explained.

Her hand falls on my upper thigh, rubbing softly and I don’t think she realizes that she’s doing it until my eyes move from hers to her hand. She stops, and starts to take it away, but I sluggishly move my arm with the IV in it over enough to place my trembling hand on top of hers to stop her retreat.

“Thank you for saving me.”

She smiles. “You’re welcome.” The wind outside blows hard enough that the jeep gets rocked from one of the harder gusts. She scrunches her mouth in a funny way. “This weather sucks, huh?” 

“Ah-huh.”

Fee lets out a pretty little laugh over my lame answer.

“Yeah,” she says, still giggling, “it usually does out here and pretty much everywhere else I've been, but playing with the extremes of hot and cold are my areas of specialty, so I can tolerate most of this crap climate we have found ourselves in. But, when these nasty winds come with all the sand, I can’t do shit to make it better.”

I want to laugh over that, but I can’t. Instead, I gulp down a sob and look at Dolores again.

“I am sorry for what I did to you.” My words come out broken by the incredible emotion behind them.

She says nothing, so I hesitantly look back at her. Her smile falters for a moment before the quick easy kindness returns to brighten her stunning features.

“I know, Five. It’s okay," she quietly replies as she gently squeezes my leg.

Confused and on the verge of losing it again, I shut my eyes to block the tears.

I feel her moving her hand away again and I reactively increase my hold on it, and she stops again.

“Hey...it's okay," she quickly assures. "That was a long time ago. I may have been very naïve, but even back then I understood enough to realize that you were acting like that and saying that stuff because you were very messed up. We both were. I was young and so romantically inexperienced.”

She chuckles at herself over that, then bends down and starts picking up the trash as she further took the blame from me.

“I was crushing on you big time and I thought maybe I could make you like me too, and you'd happily want to run away with me if I could show that we were the same. That was crazy and I didn’t tell you everything, and I didn't act right either. I was wrong for not being totally honest about my intentions, and you called me out on it, and you were right to be mad, because I was up to something very misguided, but even so, you were an impressively douchey top shelf dick weed.”

Her mouth pulls to the side in a grin that looks exactly the way I remembered it when she was flirting with me, only now, it's even more beautiful.

“True,” I agree, "But I still want you to know how sorry I am for everything."

The hand she has resting on my thigh pulls away and I have to fight the urge not to reach for it again.

“Five, I forgave you a long time ago, but I accept your apology if you accept mine.”

There’s no hiding my tears from her now, so I don’t even try.

Another strong wind blows the side of the jeep making her look out anxiously into the shadows behind the dark glass. “I need to get us out of here before the tires get buried in this shitstorm. As you found out, when you are out this far, things can get very bad, very fast. Why were you here of all places, what happened to you?”

I don’t say anything, so she looks away again and finishes cleaning up, then she starts trying to adjust my legs for me, even reaching in back to grab a clean looking pillow for my head and a blanket to tuck between my legs again. “Never mind. You don’t have to talk. I think it’s safe to say you’re okay with the meds at this point, so just rest. I’ll get us out of here.”

Fee leans over and starts to brush my hair back out of my face again by tucking it behind my ear. A breathy sound of contentment escapes from my parted lips.

Seeing as I can't even begin to hide how nice this feels to me, she babied me even more, running her cold fingers over my temples over and over and the light pressure feels like it's helping push all the pain away.

My throat clenches and my eyes burn as I start to speak. “I thought there might be somewhere better. That’s why I did this.”

Phoebe’s hand stops and she pulls it back even though I wish she wouldn't. “What happened?” she asks.

Again, I feel like she’s asking me about the ‘big what happened,’ not just about why I wandered into a desert of nothingness to die. It’s easier to look at Dolores again, so I roll my head to the side, burying my dirty face in the clean smelling pillow.

“I made a big mistake. Instead of just leaving my life behind like you said I should do if I wasn't happy with it, I ran from it, only I didn’t think it through. When I took off the day after we met, I didn’t mean to jump so far, or to this.”

“You have been here since then, all alone?”

“Yes."

The sound of the sandstorm fills the void as she appears to think about that.

"I couldn’t get back. I tried and tried. I still try. This whole time, I thought I was the only one left. I did this to myself, and I hurt so many people. I know I deserve this, but it’s been so hard,” I whisper as I bite down and swallow the cannon ball sized lump in my throat.

Phoebe shuffles the things in her hands, and I see that she has another vile and syringe at the ready.

“No, you don’t deserve this. No one does. And I didn’t find anyone either, not until you. I never wanted anything bad to happen to you and I am so sorry that it did.”

She sticks the needle in the bottle, pulling the plunger back to fill it. She spurts out some of the liquid to clear the needle before she sticks it in my arm.

“The only reason I survived is because I didn’t burn or get buried when the shock waves hit," she added. "And then the only reason I have persisted after the world fell into a seemingly endless atomic winter for the first two years is because I can regulate my temperature and even the temperatures of other things. I don’t know how you made it this long in these conditions.”

She looks so sad again and I don’t know what to say.

“You can make ice,” I breathe as I verbalize just one of the zillion things running through my head.

She smiles and then looks down at her hands. “I can manipulate water to either very hot or very cold extremes. I can also somewhat control or create fire. Turns out those two things come in very handy in the apocalypse, especially when that includes being able to pull water molecules from the atmosphere, even when it seems there are none, as you saw with the ice thing.”

It’s as I am thinking about that, linking it back to the thousands and thousands of charred bodies I have seen, and the cold feel of her hands, and her dozens of magical candles around us that one night, amazing yet horrible night that I suddenly realize I don’t feel any pain.

“Wha-dd-you-" I start to groggily ask.

“Just sleep, Five. We can talk all you want when you’re better.”

Thinking of the past, my mind and body slip away into a numb bliss, but I know I am not alone anymore.

Link to chapters 5, 6, and 7 to complete the story and also find and extended scene link.

Thanks for reading. If you are enjoying it, let me know. Three more chapters to go and I will be posting them all together very soon.😘

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[mangoshorthand]

Before A Fall [Five Hargreeves x F Reader]. Ch 12 (Hard Feelings Part 2)

SUMMARY: As your life begins to grow around Five's, his attitude becomes a little sinister. When does protection become suffocation and when does taking matters into your own hands become betrayal? (weekly updates)

Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Chapter Ten - Chapter Eleven - Chapter Twelve

A press conference and a picnic

Smut below. Proceed at your own risk.

Chapter 12: Partners

“Do I look ok?”

You tilt your head a little and look him up and down

“eh…”

“That good?” he sighs.

He looks in the mirror, finding it strange to be back in the Academy uniform, albeit the tight-fitting adult jumpsuit he had never grown into before getting lost in the future. The unworn material squeaks a little as he moves.

“You look the part…though it’s a little like fetish-wear. The mask doesn’t help.”

“Yeah, well-” he looks you up and down, clearly trying to formulate a return jab about your choice of clothing. Apparently, he can’t think of one so changes tactic:

“That’s a disturbing glimpse into your mind.”

You take a step closer to him, putting your mouth by his ear and running a finger down his arm.

“Oh Five, there’s plenty more disturbing stuff going on in there.”

He gives a single hum of laughter, looking down at his boots. Almost like he's...nervous? You can’t see his eyes behind the mask, but the flush in his cheek gives you the idea he might even be a little flustered. He turns to the armory closet and roots in an interior drawer. He emerges with a second domino mask.

“Will you wear this for me?”

“Why?”

“It shields your identity a little. And shows you’re with us. One of us.”

You look up at him, trying to divine his expression. His brow is clear, countenance open and the set of his mouth leads you to suspect penetrating earnestness behind his own mask.

You go to take it from him but he places it over your eyes himself and then strokes two fingers down your nose.

“Perfect…well, we better get going.”

You let him walk a couple of steps ahead of you. The jumpsuit’s material clings to him. You lower your voice to a lecherous drawl, as if you're a catcalling drunk peeping out from behind a dumpster.

“Your ass looks great in that,” 

“Oh, shut up.”

“So…round. Looks like it’s trying to eat that jumpsuit.”

He speeds up a little. You can see the color in his cheeks even from behind.

“Mm, you just keep on walking, boy."

You, Sloane and the four Umbrellas present lined up in front of the Academy steps. All except you fall into a parade rest as if it's the most natural thing in the world. Together, you face the surprisingly large number of press and bystanders gathered in front of the compound- TV cameras too. If the recent press attention orchestrated by JUICED had done anything, it had got the Umbrella Academy back in the headlines. Ironic really.

It had been decided that Luther should speak first. The ‘Number One’ that most people remembered. He looks down at his cue cards.

“Uh…thank you for coming today. The Academy has recently become aware of some sinister corporate activities and we've called this press conference to let you know about it and bring public attention to this issue. My brother, Number Five, has taken the lead on this, so I’m going to allow him to talk you through it. I will just ask that we save questions until the end.”

Cameras click as Five takes Luther's microphone.

“Thank you, Luther. Number One."

He surveys the crowd with quiet confidence. He has notes but holds them in the hands clasped behind his back, addressing the assembled press from memory. 

"Evidence has come into my possession which strongly suggests that the soda company JUICED co. has been experimenting on children in an illegal pilot-scheme at Holbrook Elementary School. My analysis of a can of JUICED taken from a vending machine at Holbrook revealed the presence of an unknown chemical component not on the ingredients list. More details of my analysis and its limitations are available in the press-packs sent to you. 

Since then, we've obtained leaked documents that indicate that this chemical is a new mutagen: Di-triberyllium colloid, or Ditrico for short. These documents claim that Ditrico, when ingested over a sustained period, can have the effect of making the drinker only feel satiated when they have had the substance which introduced it.

To put it simply, JUICED co. were testing whether they could make Holbrook elementary students always feel thirsty unless they had recently ingested JUICED. The data they collected via their illegal testing suggests that this happens in around thirteen percent of regular drinkers. 

The ethical implications of this are, of course, serious and I call on authorities to take action. A copy of my report and documents, all available to the press, have been sent to appropriate government agencies and law enforcement. I’d be happy to take questions now.”

Five points at one of the clamouring journalists and the questions begin. He confirms that, yes, he was the ‘madman’ at the Holbrook Elementary meeting. He proves that he is the real Number Five via a blink demonstration and his brothers vouching for him, briefly explaining the accident that caused him to go missing in the first place.

"This matter isn't the subject of this conference, so I'll take more questions now about JUICED and Holbrook."

The journalist he indicates stands up.

"Karen Smith, Newsday. You said that up to thirteen percent of regular drinkers will experience extreme thirst unless they ingest JUICED. What happens if they don't? Do they die of thirst?"

"Well, Ms Smith, I don't know for sure but I would guess not. According to JUICED's research, Ditrico seems to mess with the area of the brain that deals with thirst cues, rather than the body's ability to be hydrated. I believe the children will suffer discomfort but no physical damage. More study will be needed on whether this can be reversed. I have my suspicions that over time the brain will right itself without drinking JUICED regularly but that’s no more than speculation."

This seems to satisfy her. With a sweeping look over the crowd, he opens up the floor to more questions.

“Yes?” He indicates a journalist a few rows back, 

"Simon Dalton, New York Post. Mr Hargreeves, is this related to the four Holbrook children with cancer?"

Five hesitates, "I did originally think this was the case, but I now believe it to be unrelated."

“How did you obtain JUICED’s private documents?" comes a shout

“My brother Klaus, (Number Four), and my partner were able to get them via a one-time employee at JUICED.”

Klaus gives a finger-twiddling wave as he’s mentioned and Five gives you a small smile as he gestures to you.

“On a personal level, I'd like to acknowledge their work there and express how much I respect and… love them.”

Throwing any semblance of formality behind, Klaus leans over and ruffles Five’s hair.

After the conference, he’d gone upstairs to change and never returned. The only trace you’d found was a note:

Meet my by the convenience store at 6 x

Daisy always attracts the attention of any middle-aged to elderly man in the vicinity and Five is surrounded by the usual group of these, a protective hand on the Corvette’s waxed hood.

“-I could get her to 100, maybe 105 on a good day. Lost a bit of horsepower over the years. She’s an old lady so I rarely push her hard.”

“Is the paint job original?”

“Nah. She was shot to shit when I got her, but I had my guy restore her properly. The interior’s original but the paint-job’s reconditioned in the Donneybrooke green. The idiot before me had painted her in this cerise monstrosity…but he was just a young guy, didn’t know what he was doing.”

One of the men lets out a little laugh, “you ain’t exactly methuselah yourself, young man.”

Five would usually have bristled at this, but not today.

“Well, I at least try to treat a lady well. Speaking of,” he looks up at you, “hello dear one.”

You give him a wry look. He looks like he’s about to kick back for a round of golf.

“Hi. You boring these guys with car talk?”

“Not at all,” says one of the men. As he looks round, you recognise him as a HR manager from work and exchange a brief, surprised salutation.

“So- this your boyfriend?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“We’re partners, yeah” Five flashes you a grin, “and if you fellas don’t mind, I’d like to take my top two ladies out- assuming they'd like to?"

As you nod your agreement, the men drift away amiably. Five steps forward to open the car door for you. He's ever the gentleman in an oddly old-fashioned way for someone who, according to his birth date at least, was still in his mid-thirties.

“Where are we going?” you smile

“There’s a state park just an hour outside the city. I packed us dinner. I was thinking we can watch the sun go down.”

“What’s the occasion?”

He shrugs, “Just to celebrate.”

You drive with the top down, Five singing along the whole way. He’s leaning bluesy tonight.

You sit in a viewing area on a tartan blanket, looking out over the river. You're the only people here. As the sun sets, throwing trees into silhouette, Five offers you his blazer. It makes you laugh a little; it’s as if he’s trying to be the perfect prom date.

The picnic he’d packed was sumptuous. He’d chosen a selection of cheeses, cured meats and a bottle of champagne. He’d also been to your favorite patisserie and bought macarons for dessert. While he had a single glass of the wine, you’ve had more than half of the remainder, giving you a pleasant buzz. You enjoy a macaron, savoring the raspberry melt-in-the-mouth texture.

Five reclines a little, crossing his ankles.

"I'm going to fund Sarah's PhD."

"Huh?"

"The student I kidnapped when I did the experiment. Dad's money is just sitting there, accumulating. A portion is mine and it's more than I could ever use. It feels like the least I can do."

"That'd be nice." you smile down at him, covering his hand with your own. 

"I'll maybe pay off her student debt. Anonymously, you know. It doesn't fix it but it makes her life that bit easier."

He watches the river, its flow hard to make out in the lowering light. After a few minutes, he looks up at you.

“You were amazing, you know.”

 You laugh, feeling the champagne turn your laugh blurry.

“Aren’t I always?”

“Of course, but Klaus and Luther told me about Harvey. The way you wrapped him right around your little finger.”

He shakes his head and laughs a little. You only shrug.

“It’s how you get what you want in that world. I don’t do it in my professional life because I don’t think I should have to.”

“Good for you,” he puts his hands behind his head and turns to you. You smile drunkenly back at him. After a moment he says.

"I guess I can't blame you but I can't say I was happy to hear about you flirting so shamelessly with another man."

“It didn’t exactly go to plan. I had to knock him out.”

Five chuckles a little darkly, “I was happier to hear about you knocking him out than flirting with him.”

You laugh along with him. 

“Tell me, did you set out to make me jealous?”

His voice is dark; dangerous. It takes you a moment looking at him to realize he’s playing a game. When he cocks his eyebrows, you feel yourself smile.

“No…but I’m guessing you are?”

“Insanely.”

His teeth bare a little, tendons on his neck standing out with the tension in his jaw.

In your slight drunkenness, your eyes become a little too expressive. They dart to and from the places you find him most attractive. His eyes, lips, neck, forearms. His shirt has come untucked and rides a little high, giving you a glimpse of his lower stomach and its fine hair. 

He notices you noticing and leans back a little further to cause his shirt to ride up more.

“Would it make you feel better to fuck me over the hood of the car?”

He raises his eyebrows, laughs and shakes his head disbelievingly. Before he can say anything, you’re up, over by the car with your dress flipped up and bent over the hood.

“Watch her paint job!” he winces, getting up too.

“Too late now.” Your hands are clasped innocently behind your back, “may as well fuck me.”

He laughs, "I told those guys at the store I was taking two ladies out tonight, but it’s becoming abundantly clear that you are no lady!”

“No, no ladies here.”

“Mm…good.” One hand comes to caress and squeeze your ass cheeks. You hear him unzip and the quiet fapping sound as he strokes himself to a full stand.

“Make it quick in case someone comes.” 

He snorts, “don’t pretend that doesn’t turn you on,” 

He ruts himself against you, using your panties to provide the friction he wants. Little ohs and mms escape his lips as he humps at you, enjoying the situation and anticipation. His cock pokes pleasantly at your panties until, eventually, he pulls them aside. 

He gently slaps himself against your ass, enjoying the soft 'thwack' it makes. Knowing he's about to put it inside you makes your nipples harden inside your bra. He uses his hand to guide himself into you, entering hastily and a little uncomfortably. It seems the wine has made things a little slower to lube up down there. For some reason, this makes it feel better, dirtier. Bent, spread-eagled over the car with Five Hargreeves fucking you rough and dry.

With a hand on each hip, he goes for it immediately, making fierce, feral noises as he impales you repeatedly. Your cunt quickly catches up and soon he’s sliding through you as slick as you could want.

“Oh, you hot little slut.”

You’re bombastic from the wine. If he can play the game, why can't you?

“Harvey wanted me."

He grunts, breaking his rhythm just to give your ass a little slap. 

"But you're mine."  There's no real ire in his voice and only flattering possessiveness.  

"I even made sure he had a good view down my shirt.”

He makes a sound mid-way between a laugh and an animalistic grunt. He smacks your ass again, hard this time, shoving you forward onto the hood. He pulls you back onto his dick and continues his rough attentions.

"You bad little whore.”

“But only you can touch them."

"Mmm."

He leans forward, cock slipping out of you and dragging wetly across your ass. He reaches around your body, grabs a breast in each hand and squeezes them, rubbing them harshly around and around. 

"My tits." he growls, lips against your ear.

"Yes Daddy," you whisper. 

He gives your earlobe a gentle bite.

"Now you just lay there and enjoy this cock." 

"Yes please."

He's too breathless, to eager to get inside you again to say more. Breathing through his teeth, he directs his cock back inside you and slams it to the root, making you both cry out.

You shift slightly, altering the angle of his penetration to rub better against your g-spot. Your moans build, feeling your hips start to ache with the repeated, heavy contact from his pelvis. As your lower stomach and pussy tingle with the approaching orgasm, you put both hands palm down on the shining hood.

Five doesn’t allow this. He tugs your arms by your sides and puts his hands on top of your wrists, pressing them into your hips.

“I…just…waxed…her” he pants

You laugh at this. Maybe it’s the way your body moves, but this pushes you both over. Five comes with his usual possessive, almost angry grunts while you squeal out your pleasure. Afterwards, as you both catch your breath, he leans over and lays his upper body along yours, the warmth and his deep breathing in your ear making up for the loss of his cock inside you.

“Poor Daisy,” you giggle.

“Lucky me though.” You can hear the raised eyebrow in his voice. He kisses your cheek. 

Soon, you’re both decent and back on the picnic rug. The sun is low now; the highest sky ink black, the lowest sweet coral. It’s turning into a fine, clear night.

When it begins to get a little cold, Five heads to the car’s trunk and returns with a second blanket, an old quilt patterned with robots from his childhood bed. He drapes it over the pair of you and pours you both another glass of wine.

"Thank you." he says.

"What for?" 

"For everything you did," he looks down, hair shading his eyes, "and... I guess...thank you for staying."

"What else would I do?"

He looks back up at you, unsure of your meaning. You shake your head at him, feeling a slightly sad smile spread your lips.

"Two things, Five. One, I love you too much, even when you're being an asshole. But also...where would I go?"

"Ah." 

For once, he understands something emotional without it having to be spelled out. He takes a thoughtful sip of wine.

"You feel...dependent."

"Yeah. I guess."

 Your stomach flutters with nerves. It would be so simple for him to take this as an insult. His knees come up to his chest and he holds his arms around them.

"You have...friends. What about Ellie? Didn't you go to her after I nearly shot you?"

Shame flashes fleetingly across his face.

"Yes...I could. But what about after that? I'd be on her couch for weeks before I could get an apartment...a-and, once I did, how long until I felt safe there?"

His face contorts a little behind his knees. One of his hands comes to grip yours. 

"Do you...want to leave?"

"No."

He lets out a held breath.

"So you feel stuck? Because it's my family's house but you're scared to live alone?"

"Not stuck. And I want to live with you, it's not really about being scared to live alone."

"It's about feeling vulnerable?"

You nod and his face falls into the deep lines of logical consideration, loosening his grip on his knees. He's been faced with a problem and he's damn well going to solve it:

"Do you want us to get our own place?"

You consider this, "No...not for now, at least. I really do love it there- I do feel like it's home. And you'd miss everyone."

"Not as much as I'd miss you." you can tell he means this. "So what do you want, dear one?"

When you don't answer, clearly at a loss, he puts his arm around you. After looking up at the darkening sky for a while, he says:

"How does this work: you pay a little rent to Dad's estate? Just a little; enough to give you a lease agreement. It would give you a right to be there legally...a right outside of me."

You look at him. As an extremely proud man, this must cost him a lot to say.

"Are you-?"

"I want it to be your home. Whatever I have to do to make that happen."

"I... I think that would help." 

"Good." He kisses your head. "Maybe we can re-evaluate the arrangement as time goes on...if legal circumstances change."

You're not entirely sure what he means, but you nod nevertheless. He looks up at the night sky again.

“The stars won’t be long now. Look up there long enough and more and more will appear.”

His mind seems to wander. He takes your hand under the blanket and lies down. After several minutes, his voice has taken on a different, more dreamy quality.

“They were pretty much the only beauty left. Dolores and I would stare at them for hours some nights. Everything else in ruins...but there they were.”

You lie down beside him and look up too. Your heads rest against each other.

“It was nice to know that they were always there. Always following their cycles. Like clockwork.”

“Comforting?” you venture

He pauses, “Yeah…but they made me small. More alone too.”

You stroke the back of his hand with your thumb.

He’s right. More and more appear the more you stare. As the sky becomes blacker than blue-black, the stars spread and multiply. Those that fade into view seem brighter the more that fade in behind them.

You tear your eyes away a second and bring your eyes to his. Dome shaped to your side-on view, the stars are reflected there too.

“You’re home now.”

“Yeah.” he whispers.

You look back up at the sky and get lost in the vastness. The infinity of it. For a minute or so, you’re no longer with Five, no longer feel his hand in yours; it’s just you and the universe.

Five’s voice, deep and soft, brings you back into yourself.

“Do you think you’d ever get married?”

You take a second or two to parse this; just back to earth. He turns his head towards you and watches you in silence. Eventually, you reply.

“I haven't ruled it out.”

"Good to know.”

End of Part 2

Tag list: (please comment to be added or removed.) @dilfjohhny , @sunsunhe, @w4stedtr4sh, @nevbrooke-555, @theredvelvetbitch, @td-miley01, @five-hxrgreeves

PART 3 >> HERE For a preview of things to come, check out the series masterpost Alternatively, join me on AO3.  Here is a link to the whole series

#the umbrella academy smut #the umbrella academy five #the umbrella academy imagine #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy x reader #umbrella academy #umbrella academy smut #umbrella academy number five #umbrella academy five x you #umbrella academy five x reader #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x you #number five imagine #five hargreeves smut #five hargreeves imagine #number five smut #number 5 imagine #number 5 #fanfic #ao3 writer #read on ao3 #tua fanfic #umbrella academy fanfic #five hargreaves x you #five hargreaves x reader #number 5 x reader #number 5 x you #Hard feelings #Before a fall

[badkitty3000]

Weak

Even Five Hargreeves is no stranger to temptation. He tries so hard to stay away. He wants to do the right thing for once in his life. If not for himself, then for her. But every man has his breaking point.

Five Hargreeves x Reader Smut

This one shot is an accompaniment to my other work "Addicted". This can be read on its own, but is a different side of the story, as told from Five's point of view.

As always, I am open to requests. Thank you!

My Master List Of Number Five Fanfiction

Weak:

I never meant to take it this far. I never meant to be cruel. That’s not who I am, or at least I didn’t think I was. I also thought I was strong and had will power. But I guess I was wrong about that, too. Because as much as I try to stay away, I don’t.

I know who I am and what I’m made of. The terrible things I’ve done. That’s not a secret and I’ve never lied to myself about that. My morals can’t even be called a gray area anymore; they’re more like an indistinct blur. But in this one tiny part of my soul, I was trying to be better. For her, at least.

I have failed miserably.

She knows what I am. When things got too comfortable and too familiar, I told her as a way to push her away and to scare her. It didn’t work, though. In fact, it had the opposite effect. She fucking loved it…and I didn’t know how to say no to that.

How could I say no when she was tearing at my clothes, practically panting with desire, and shoving her hand down my pants? All over a bloody stain on a shirt collar and the feel of my Glock against her skin. I’m sure there’s a way to resist that, but fuck if I know what it is. I’m not smart enough or strong enough to figure that one out.

I don’t particularly like all of the killing. But I’m pretty fucking good at it and someone has to do it, I suppose. I certainly never considered it sexy in any way. Then, after that first time, when she begged me to tell her all of the gruesome details, and I watched her skin start to flush and her pupils dilate…well, fuck, that put a new spin on everything.

I still don’t like it, that part hasn’t changed. I get no pleasure from pulling that trigger and watching their skull break open like a fucking pinata, spraying the contents of their brains all over the floor like the world’s worst party game. Now, however, there is a sick little spark that will ignite in me after it’s done. Because I know how it will turn her on.

And, fuck, I am weak.

That’s what this all boils down to. Weakness. For most people that meet me or know me in any way, weak is probably the last word they would use to describe me. Cold; bitter; sarcastic; asshole. Those adjectives are much more likely to be used. But weak? Doubtful.

I know the truth, though. Deep down, that is what I am. Because when you continue to break someone’s heart time and time again, just because you can’t control your own basic urges…that’s weakness. Pure and simple.

She has told me how much I’ve hurt her, and how much I am ruining her life. She has screamed and cried and told me all of the things I know I deserve to hear. She has called me an asshole more times than I can remember, and I have never disputed it. So, I stay away, like I know I should. Until she inevitably calls again. And I slip right back into it without another thought. Like the absolute fucking bastard that I am.

Weak.

Because even though I know it’s wrong and I’m slowly poisoning her with my selfishness, each time I think maybe it will be different. Maybe this time will be the time when I stay. When I will finally be the person I should be and really want to be.

All the way up until the early morning, I will convince myself that this is it. I’ve finally seen the light and I can be the man she deserves; it will be so easy. Because when it’s just the two of us, in our own little cocoon, hidden away from the outside world, the idea is magical. I would give anything to stay there, tucked away, fucking like animals until we’re both too exhausted to talk anymore. I want to stay there and listen to her voice, and her laugh, and feel her hands on my touch-starved body. And I think, yes, this is it. This is what I want.

Then morning comes and the spell is broken.

Once that first peek of dawn starts to light up the sky, all of my anxieties come rushing back, and I remember why I can’t stay. Morning brings back the real world, and with it all of its problems.

I will freeze up, practically paralyzed with fear, as she sleeps next to me, an arm draped over my chest. I will remember what kind of person I really am, and how that just doesn’t translate to boyfriend material. And it’s not just the little fact that I am a hired assassin, although that does put a slight snag in any future meetings with parents and the like.

It’s the mixing bowl of fucked up thoughts and feelings and history that lives inside my brain. Guilt. Regret. Sadness. Rage. Take your pick, none of them are great. And I can mask them for a night or two, while I’m pretending to be someone I’m not. But they will come back again, and that’s just not something anyone needs. Especially someone you care about.

So, I do the worst, shittiest thing in the world, and leave while she’s asleep. No kiss goodbye. No note. Not even a quick morning fuck. I grab my shit and leave in a flash of blue light, like the weak coward I am. Can’t even bother to use the god damn door.

I will stay away after that. At least for a while. I will ignore the incoming texts and voice mails that sometimes will follow, and sometimes don’t. I’ll pretend I don’t care about the lectures and pleas and rightly-deserved insults. But I do care. And that’s why I won’t answer.

A month might go past, maybe more. Just enough time for me to start thinking she really is done with me. Then the call will come through, late at night, and I won’t ignore it. Because, as we’ve determined…I am weak.

She is the only one, although I’ve never told her that and I bet she thinks she’s not. I’m not interested in anyone else. I don’t need anyone else. And when she stops calling for good, which one day I know will happen, that will be it. It’s either her or nobody. And it’s barely even her.

Our paths almost never cross outside of our little midnight meetings. After that first night when all of this started, I’ve never seen her anywhere else besides her apartment. I assume it’s because the types of bars and clubs I frequent are not anywhere a normal, sane person would want to spend their free evenings. But tonight, as fate would have it, I do see her. After I grab my drink off the cracked and peeling bar top and turn to look at the room behind me, I see her. And she’s not alone.

With my glass half way to my mouth, our eyes meet, and for a second neither of us move. It’s not a big place, so we aren’t that far away from one another. But it’s loud and crowded, and the guy is leaning in close to her ear, talking loudly to be heard over the constant bass thumping through the shitty speakers on the walls. Who the fuck is this guy?

It’s not fair, I know that. Believe me, I know that. And I try to give myself a stern talking-to inside my head. She is not yours. Not even remotely. You are an asshole and she deserves better. Leave her the fuck alone.

I take a drink. And then I see his hand disappear under the table, and I can see everything from where I’m standing. He’s squeezing her thigh, leaving his hand there to rest on her leg, rubbing his thumb across the bare skin that isn’t covered by her short skirt. A skirt I know I’ve had my face under before.

Fuck. I hate this guy.

In the thirty seconds that it takes for all of this to happen, she is watching me. Reading me. A faint smile plays on her lips and I know I’m caught. My thoughts must be written all over my face like a fucking billboard, and it’s too late to pretend I haven’t seen or that I don’t care. She’s got me.

If I were stronger, or a better person, I would leave. Pay my tab, collect my coat, and get the fuck out of there without another glance in her direction. Leave her be. Let her live her fucking life. But I am not. And I’m pissed.

My first instinct is to reach behind me, grab the Glock that’s hidden in the waistband of my pants and covered up by my suit jacket, and take care of this asshole right then and there. That would probably be the nicer thing to do, honestly. Then she’d finally see what a fucking psycho I am and that would end things once and for all. But I’m also not that stupid. Or that nice.

Instead, I stay and watch. I let her see me watching, too. I lean with my back against the bar, casually sipping my drink, and my eyes never leave her. I want her to know, even if it makes me more of a giant dick than I already am. I want her to know I am not pleased.

I have no idea who this guy is, and I don’t care. Maybe it’s their first date; maybe it’s their tenth. It doesn’t matter, I want him dead. And now that she knows that, because it’s pretty fucking obvious by the way I’m coiled like a cobra ready to strike right now, it’s quickly become a game. If she had feelings for him before, that seems to have been forgotten now. Because everything she is doing is for me.

Her eyes leave mine and she returns to what I can only imagine is a very dull conversation with the Neanderthal sitting next to her. She smiles and laughs, and moves her leg closer to his so that they are touching. She reaches up and fixes his hair, tucking a stray piece of it over his ear. She rests her chin on her hand and stares at him like he’s the most interesting person she’s ever encountered. And he’s eating this shit up; kicking his game up a notch with even more inane talk and rubbing her thigh up and down with his whole hand. He thinks she’s into him. Fucking dumbass.

That’s the only thing keeping me slightly calm at the moment. Knowing it’s all a play. She is a really good actress, I’ll give her that, but I’ve paid more attention to her than she realizes. I know her tells. I know the difference between her fake laugh and her real one. I can tell when she’s actively engaged in the conversation or she is just waiting for you to shut up. I know how she touches her face when she’s nervous and I know what she looks like when she wants to fuck you.

And, buddy…I got bad news for you.

The corner of my mouth lifts in an arrogant smirk as I take another drink. I shouldn’t be proud of this; I should be appalled. How dare I think I have any right to any of her little traits and quirks? I haven’t earned that. That kind of thing is reserved for boyfriends and husbands and people that can stand to stick around for more than a few hours.

When she runs her tongue over her lips in an obvious gesture meant only for me, I actually laugh out loud. Fuck, she knows what she’s doing. And it’s one hundred percent working.

As I order my second drink, feeling the calming buzz of the booze fill my brain, I start to care less and less. I don’t care if this is not fair. I don’t care that I’m being a complete and utter shit head. I don’t care if I’m weak. I’ll deal with all of that later.

I take out my phone and type out a quick text.

Enjoying yourself?

I watch as she glances to her phone on the table as it lights up. She picks it up, angling it away from Caveman Cliff, and reads it. It’s subtle, but I saw it. A brief twitch of her mouth and a quick flit of her eyes in my direction. I see her type out a quick reply and then she is back to him, completely enrapt in his droning.

Immensely, thank you

Not able to resist, I counter with:

Even I can tell from way over here that your panties are as dry as the desert

She holds in a smile as she responds back.

Too bad you’re not going to find out

Honey, if that pussy of yours is even slightly wet, it’s only because you’re thinking of me bending you over that table you’re sitting at right now

I see her legs shift and she crosses one over the other, squeezing them together as a faint blush covers her cheeks.

And why would I be thinking that?

Because that dipshit you’re with isn’t going to give you what I know you want

I watch as she swallows and then glances at the idiot to her left that is oblivious to all of this, the poor bastard. Her response is short.

Fuck you

She puts her phone away to end this exchange, but I see the small smile she is trying to hide and the way she touches her hand to her face. I can see her chest expand as she sucks in a deep breath, biting at the inside of her cheek.

I give a short snort of satisfaction and put my phone back in my inside jacket pocket. I got what I wanted. I throw back the rest of my drink, leave a few dollars for a tip, and head for the door without another look in her direction. But I know she saw me leave.

As I wait there in the dark, I think about how awful I’m being; what a shit bag move this is. I’m using her, that’s what it boils down to. Using her for her warmth and her openness, and to temporarily calm my mind. Also, for her body and her touch. She sees something in me that isn’t there; or at least something I can’t see. But I can’t or won’t give her what she needs, and I’m also not letting her move on.

Fuck, I’m an asshole.

I hear their voices coming down the hall, the rattle of keys in her hand. As they near the door, I can hear her made up excuses. She’s tired; she had too much to drink; she has a headache. Maybe next time. She’ll call him tomorrow. Then she slips inside her darkened apartment and the door closes behind her.

I’m on her before she has a chance to turn the light on, pressing her against the door as she drops her keys on the floor. Since I’ve been waiting, the anticipation has already made me fully hard and I push my groin into her while I circle my hand lightly around her neck.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? No love connection tonight?” I growl next to her ear.

She never even screams or fights back. She knew I would be there. But her hands grab my forearm and I hear her suck in a loud breath.

“I never knew you were the jealous type,” she smarts back.

 “Only when I see someone try to take what’s mine,” I hiss hotly against her neck, drawing my lips and then my tongue across her skin.

“I’m not your fucking property,” she snarls, but I can hear the break in her voice and she swallows hard against my hand.

I laugh cynically. “Well, then I can go and you can let him fuck you instead. Is that what you want?”

There’s a long pause and it’s just our loud breathing in the dark of the room. Then I feel her head move slowly from side to side.

“No,” she whispers.

As I crash my mouth onto hers, my hands in her hair and on her face, and down to her tits, she is reaching for the front of my pants. I had already removed my jacket and belt when I got there, as well as the pistol that I always carry with me. Our little act back at the bar was already enough foreplay and our bodies are screaming for each other.

Our hands can’t work fast enough as she is shoving my pants down my legs and tearing my shirt open while I rip her top off and yank her skirt up. My fingers are already pushing her panties to the side and entering her, sliding right in with no resistance.

I smile proudly against her neck. “I knew you were wet for me.”

As she moans and throws her head back, she is reaching down to stroke my cock, her warm hand tight and firm as she drags it slowly over my shaft.

My hips are already jerking into her and I want to be inside of her so badly I can’t think straight.

“Get these panties off so I can fuck you,” I snarl.

I pull my fingers out, pushing her underwear down roughly and she quickly steps out of them. With one pull of her hips into me, her arms clutching tightly to my shoulders, I lift her up and start fucking her against the door.

I tip my head back and groan loudly as she whines and pulls her legs tighter around my waist.

“Can he make you feel this good?” I ask between clenched teeth as I ram into her harder and the door rattles in its frame.

“No!” she cries out.

“Do you think about him when you’re alone and fingering yourself?”

Her moans are punctuated by the slamming of my body against hers and her fingers press deeper into my skin.

“No,” she breathes out. “No.”

“You think about me, don’t you?” I say with a sneer. When she doesn’t answer fast enough, I ask again, louder. “Don’t you?”

“Yes,” she whimpers pitifully, her nails digging sharply into my shoulder blades.

I can’t believe what I’m saying and what I’m doing. But she’s loving it and so I continue.

“I’m going to fuck you until you forget all about him, and then I’m going to fuck you some more. And if I ever see you with him again, I will kill him.”

“You wanted to kill him, didn’t you?” she asks, and that knowing smile starts to form as she closes her eyes and bites her lip. “When you saw him with me?”

“Fuck yes I did,” I groan loudly into her neck.

She’s almost there, I can tell. So am I, but I’m going to make her finish first. I pick up the pace, thrusting into her as hard as I can, her back and head slamming against the door, my fingers digging deeper into the flesh of her thighs and ass. I’m practically ripping into the side of her neck, latching on with my mouth and teeth, desperate to mark her as my own.

I listen as she repeats my name over and over in gasps and moans and I can’t hold back anymore.

“That’s it, sweetheart. You are all mine.”

She is falling apart in my arms, violently shaking against me as I penetrate her one last time, letting out a loud, guttural moan. I’m as deep inside of her as I can be, and I fill her up with so much cum, I know it will start sliding out; dripping down her legs and onto the floor. Somewhere deep inside, in the primordial part of my brain, I take satisfaction in knowing that it’s my seed, and only mine, that is coating her insides.

Once the last spasm has left my body, I let her down and she falls back against the door, breathing hard. Her bra is still on, but the straps have fallen down, and her skirt is bunched up around her waist. I look at the painful looking purple bruise I left on her neck, which is large enough and obvious enough that she won’t be able to cover it. Her eye makeup is smeared and her lips are swollen and red. She looks completely ravished. And then she starts to cry.

It’s because of me, I know it is. Because of the things I said and the things I did, and the way I needed her so desperately. She had been trying to break away from me and I reeled her back in. And I did it knowingly and deliberately, just to feed my ego and maybe not feel so alone. I could have found anyone for that. But, like the prick I am, I only wanted her.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, my lungs still working hard to get air in and out.

She just nods silently, wiping her face with her hand, and pulls down her skirt. She picks her shirt and underwear off the floor and heads to the bathroom without a word. I’m left standing there with a softening dick and my pants around my ankles.

Fuck.

I could leave now, while she’s in there, and maybe I should. That feels wrong, though. But then again, so does staying. I feel like shit and I’m so full of shame that I want to punch my fist through the wall. Instead, I zip my pants back up and walk over to her couch to wait. I turn on the table lamp and even though it’s dim, it feels blaringly bright and I have to squint my eyes.

When she comes out, she has changed into some soft shorts and a t-shirt. Her face is cleaned up and I assume her thighs and the area between them are too. She is no longer crying, but I can still see the tell-tale signs of red-rimmed eyes and flushed cheeks. I’m surprised when she comes and sits down next to me, laying her head on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” I say again, because I can’t think of anything better to say.

“I know. Me too,” she says and she leans her body against mine.

She has nothing to be sorry for and I’m not sure what to do, so I put my arm around her and hug her to me. I kiss her forehead and she closes her eyes. I don’t know why she’s letting me do this, but it feels good and I like it. Just like every other time, I tell myself that maybe this time will be different. I can do this; I can be that person. I don’t want to be that other jealous, callous, hurtful person. I don’t want to be the asshole.

“Just don’t go yet, ok?” she says quietly with her cheek resting against my chest.

I smooth her hair and run my hand down her back. I don’t want to go. She feels good and warm and soft against my tension-filled body. She feels right. I want to tell her all of that, too. I want to say I’m sorry a million times over and beg for her forgiveness. I want to wake up with her next to me every day.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” I murmur into her hair as I brush my chin across the top of her head.

“Don’t do that,” she pleads, her voice soft. “Please.”

I decide I’m going to tell her how I really feel. Before the night is over, I’ll come clean. And then I’ll stay. If she’ll still have me.

“You are, though. I mean it.”

She doesn’t respond, but sighs and nestles in, holding me around my waist. Fuck, I have craved this. More than the dirty talk and the biting and the ferocious fucking. I want this. I want her. And I’m going to tell her.

The rest of the night goes by in a blur. It’s there, on the tip of my tongue the whole time. All I have to do is say it. But I don’t.

We fuck again, rough and hard, on the couch and on the floor. I leave more marks on her chest, branding her as my own. I tell her she’s mine, and I make her scream my name again, but I don’t say what I really mean.

We fuck in her bed, while we’re both tired and slightly drunk. I pump lazily into her while she lies underneath me and moans softly. I kiss her lips and tell her how gorgeous she is, and it’s not a lie because she is. I worship her body, running my tongue over every part of it, tasting her skin and her delicious arousal. I can taste my own cum as I lick into her soft folds and inside her pussy that’s been stretched and abused by my cock several times over.

There are so many opportunities and I don’t take any of them. I let her fold her body into mine as I hold her in the dark and I can say it right now. It would be easy and it would be the truth.

I want to be with you.

I want to be yours.

I want you to be mine and mine alone.

I want to stay.

But I am weak, and so I don’t.

She sleeps against me and I listen to her rhythmic breathing while I lie there wide awake. I think about all of the things I should have said. Everything I should have done and should not have done. I hate myself for all of it.

When the sun creeps in, and the faintest light is leaking through the curtains and cutting through the safety of the darkness, it all comes crashing back. I remember why I can’t stay and why those words just wouldn’t come out. The reality of the real world is glaringly obvious in the light of day and I remember all of it.

The real world is filled with everyday things like jobs and homes and bills to pay. Coworkers and families that want to meet you. Graduation and birthday parties. Movie and dinner dates, holidays and vacations. Marriage. Children. Normalcy.

There’s just no way any of that would work. I can’t fit into that life, even though I want to. I think of all of the things holding me back and they keep piling up until they are crushing me and I feel like I can’t breathe.

I am an assassin. A killer. A murderer. I have seen the end of the world and survived the most horrific things. I have PTSD and crippling anxiety. There are nightmares and paranoia and episodes of manic rage. I am old and I am tired. There is nothing left of me and nothing left to give. I am not meant for normalcy.

As I slowly remove her arm from across my chest, she stirs but she doesn’t wake. I take a moment to look at her. Her mind isn’t betraying her with vivid dreams of the world collapsing around her in a fiery blaze or sprays of bullets piercing her body. She is at peace and I am envious of that.

I am not good for her, I know that. I need to go and stay gone. She deserves stability and happiness and a million other things I cannot give her. So, I will be the asshole that leaves in the morning before she wakes, just like I always do. She will hate me and curse me and cry for me. And I will stay away this time. I have to.

I chance it by leaning in and brushing my lips across her forehead. Her face wrinkles up and then relaxes again, but she doesn’t wake. I slip out of the bed and out of the room, following the trail of discarded clothes and put them back on one by one. Then I am gone in the same flash of light that allowed me to enter there in the first place. A convenient exit that I have misused way too many times.

Outside, the sun is bright and the world is waking up. I can feel my resolve growing stronger as the new day builds. That was it, I am done. It was awful and I shouldn’t have done it, but it’s over now and I will not be repeating it. I am a pillar of inner strength. That was the last time and she is finally free of me. I am doing the right thing.

My strength is impressive, both inside and out. But it is not impenetrable, especially when darkness falls and the world around me grows quiet. When I am alone with nothing but my thoughts, and I just need to feel something good again.

Everyone has a weakness.   

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