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mangoshorthand · 1 year

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Hii I'm a real sucker for your smuts and I was wondering if you could do a five one where he walks in on reader riding their pillow and thinking about him while doing it (and they haven't had intercourse in a long while because of apocalypse stuff and all that) and the aftermath where you can do anything with it after but I'd really like it if five was being gentle to the reader :<

Sorry this is a long req I hope you write it and it's okay if you dont wanna, thankiee 🫶

Your welkiee! Hope you enjoy. 😊 Lucky Fucking Pillow | Five Hargreeves/ F Reader 3k words, Rated E

It had been four weeks: four fearful, lonely, miserable weeks. You felt stupid, irritated with him. You hated the fact you were waiting at home for him like the sweetheart of a world war two vet, living on the letters he sent from the front lines.

You held it together until just before he left, duffel bag over his shoulder.

“The situation’s dangerous; unpredictable. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

On the floors below you, you could hear a bustle of activity as his siblings made similar preparations to leave.

“Why is this your responsibility?”

He looked at you, disbelievingly, the hand not supporting the bag went directly into his pocket.

“This is the world. Am I supposed to sit at home and wait to be subsumed by another apocalypse?”

You shook your head, bringing your knees up to your chest, not able to articulate what you were feeling.

“Let me come with you then.”

He let out an exasperated sigh, picked up the last of his morning coffee and knocked it back, shaking his head.

“I’m not having this discussion again. I’d want you beside me in anything else, but not in this. If anything happened to you, I’d never forgive myself. Your best chance of survival is staying well away.”

“What if you die? What am I supposed to do?”

From slight irritation, he softened further. Bending from the waist, he kissed your forehead.

“I love you, okay.”

He crossed to the door, but a strangled sob made him turn back. Your face was suddenly red, tear-streaked. When you spoke, the words tore themselves from a tight throat.

“Don’t go!”

He closed his eyes, hand still on the door handle. He let out a breath and dropped the duffel bag, turning back around, crossing the room in two strides and holding you close, your head against his chest.

“I have to, angel. I’m so sorry.”

Since then, your days had been spent scouring the horizon for impending doom and following the news incessantly for any hints of what was going on. Your nights had been spent sleepless, remembering Five’s caresses and trying to get your head around the fact that you and everyone else could die at any moment.

You at least knew he wasn’t dead. He got messages to you sporadically; short dispatches from the field. They appeared mostly via an ancient telegraph machine stowed in Reginald’s old office. The most recent of these hadn’t been very encouraging:

We’ve got a plan, but it’s tenuous. If it doesn’t work, we’ll really be fucked. If that’s the case, then I hope to see you on the other side, -F x

smut below cut

They were four sexless weeks too. You quickly discovered that it takes more than the threat of imminent death to crush the human capacity for horniness. Before that month, you would have thought it would be a deluge of cold water on your libido, but that was far from the case.

On the contrary, knowing that time could be short, all you could think about was having Five in your arms again: running your hands all over his body, the feeling of his lips on yours and the sensations of his lovemaking.

As you lay in bed, his phantom was a heavy, intoxicating presence. Your need for him was strong tonight. You rolled to look at his empty side of the bed and imagined his head on the pillow. His eyes (that fickle forest green that masqueraded as blue in some lights and brown in others), you imagined them shaded by his hair. You saw his raised eyebrow, his smile, soft and suggestive, with the dimple that only appeared on one side of his face, recessing two large freckles by his mouth.

You pulled his pillow to you and buried your face in it. It smelled of him. You inhaled it deeply: his aftershave, his antiperspirant, his shampoo, a hint of coffee and something more indefinable: a more fundamental scent that was all him.

It was this last smell that made your stomach flip, that made you breathe in the scent of the pillow again. It awakened something primal in you: ripples from your center outwards; flutters down each of your limbs.

Before you knew it, you were stripping off your panties and kneeling up in bed. One hand held his pillow to your face and the other held your own pillow between your legs. When you started to grind, it was him beneath you. In imagination, he was teasing you: not allowing you to get on his dick until you came from humping his leg.

It wasn’t enough friction, so you sped up your hips, snapping them back and forth desperately. There was a whisper of something, a tingle from your neglected pussy, so you chased it, sinking deeper into the fantasy and imagining his hands squeezing your hips, guiding you as you rode him.

“Oh, Five,” you whispered, feeling your body begin to respond, wetness gathering between your labia, “Five, fuck.”

You threw your head back and closed your eyes.

“Hm,” said an approving voice from the doorway, “that lucky fucking pillow.”

You gave a violent start, dropped his pillow and turned around. There he was, framed in the open doorway. You gave a grateful, ecstatic cry.

“Five!”

In nothing but your t-shirt, you were across the room in a leap and bound and throwing yourself against him, holding him to you with sudden, tight urgency.

He immediately stiffened and let out a sharp groan of pain. You loosened your grip

“Oh my god, what happened? You’re hurt! Are you okay? Is it over? Is everyone okay? Is the world okay?”

He was holding himself stiffly, but now his pain had faded, his face was amused. He leaned forward and kissed your lips. On your side, the kiss was desperate, joy-filled; on his, more passionate. His tongue flicked between your lips before he broke away.

“How about this? l answer each of your questions if, each time, you answer me one in return?” he said, smirking.

“I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” he said, smiling gently, “but that wasn’t a question.”

You were too happy to see him to have space to be irritated by this game.

“Fine. What happened to you?”

He moved as if to put his bag down on the chair. Seeing his wince, you took it off him and placed it there yourself.

“Thanks. It’s just a wound. There was an explosion. I was hit by a piece of flying steel.”

“Shit,” you whispered, looking down at his chest and the bandages that must be underneath his shirt, “oh my god, are you okay?”

“Hey,” he admonished, “it’s your turn to answer a question now. What were you doing when I came in?”

You looked at him with annoyance.

“You know what I was doing.”

“Yes,” he smirked, “I want to hear you describe it.”

“I was masturbating.”

“How were you masturbating?” he pushed.

“It’s my turn to ask a question now,” you said, using his own tactic against him, “How long will it take to heal? Are you seriously hurt?”

“That was two questions,” he said, stepping towards you, “but I’m feeling generous: I’m not seriously hurt. It’s a flesh wound. It’ll heal nicely.”

You looked at him with concern and he shook his head with a smile.

“Now it’s my turn: what exactly were you thinking about when you were humping that pillow?”

“You,” you mumbled, “I missed you.”

“What exactly? You didn’t answer properly.”

You feel your face flush.

“I was thinking about fucking you. On top. Riding you.”

Five’s smirk grew, biting his lip and raising his eyebrows suggestively. You hurried on.

“Is the family okay?”

“All present and correct.” he said, moving even closer to you and stroking your hip in gentle circles.

It was a long, long month without you. There was barely time to think, let alone have the privacy for any ‘self care’ sessions of his own. Now that it was all over, his dick was complaining rather vocally about this neglect; insisting that if it didn’t get inside something warm and tight within the next five minutes, it would be most seriously displeased with the rest of him.

As if to punctuate the point, it was now requisitioning rather a lot of blood from his brain, leaving him rock hard and almost lightheaded with the rush.

“You’re so horny for me, aren’t you? Humping your pillow like a dirty little girl?”

“Was that a question?”

“Yes.”

You sighed as his hand snaked around to your ass. He stroked one of your buttocks up and down slowly, palm cupping the curve of your skin.

“Then yes: I’m horny for you.”

“How horny?” he said, immediately, squeezing you gently.

“Did you save the world?”

“Are you wet for me?” he said, huskily.

The fingertips of his other hand came to rest on your thigh. His eyes, dark in the low light of the bedroom, captured yours and held them firmly, authoritatively.

“If you’re not going to answer my question, I’ll have to find out for myself.”

You looked back at him and his lips twitched. Slowly, he walked his middle and index fingers between your legs and parted your labia. He let out a low ‘oh’ as he felt the sopping folds waiting for him.

A jolt twitched down the boner now pressing insistently against the crotch of his pants.

“How about you ditch the pillow and have a piece of the real thing?”

His fingers slipped slickly up and down your slit and you nodded, trying not to let your knees go weak. Your hands came to the hem of your shirt, pulled it over your head and discarded it so that you were standing naked before him.

As your breasts bounced free, his befuddled mind could only think how much he’d missed them. He bent forward eagerly to try and take a nipple into his mouth, but froze mid-stoop with a wince and harsh intake of breath.

“Ow. Shit.”

He straightened up slowly, stiffly and leaned against the door, experimentally stretching out his limbs.

“You okay?” you said, worried.

“I’m fine.” he muttered, hand over his injury, “Got a bad case of hornybrain. Made me forget I was impaled by a steel bar for a hot second there.”

You winced in sympathy and rubbed his clothed stomach in circles. When the pain had abated and he was again looking at you with lust behind his eyes, you leaned in and whispered to him.

“Looks like you’re going to have to stay still and let me do all the work.”

His lips parted but no words came out, for once unable to think of anything cocky to say. You could see the glisten of saliva on his tongue. You smirked and lowered yourself so that you were kneeling in front of him.

He laid his head against the door and exhaled as you deftly freed him of his pants and let them fall to his ankles. He squeezed his eyes closed, thoroughly undone by the mere suggestion of being sucked. He was even hornier than he realized.

He groaned in a strange mix of satisfaction and need as you licked him through his underwear, using one hand to pull the fabric taught around the thick five and a half inches imprinted there in harsh relief. The stretch and your saliva made the white material semi transparent and you felt a pleasant twist in your stomach as the hint of soft, flushed skin beneath. You lost yourself, aware of nothing but the perfect outline of his glans beneath your tongue and the heady, pheromonal smell of him.

He made another tight, needy sound as you put your lips around his still-clothed head.

“Please.”

How could you refuse him? Pulling at the elastic and reaching in, you pulled him out to twitch in the open air. It looked painfully hard, as always curving slightly to your left but otherwise sticking straight out like an exclamation point to his arousal.

Slowly, still inhaling that intoxicating scent, you took him into your mouth, slowly sucking him. You hummed appreciatively at his solid, hot skin between your lips. You were in heaven there, happy to keep sucking him as long as he’d let you.

“You don’t know how much I need this,” he said, weakly, knees buckling as you built to a steady rhythm. You paid close attention to his head, enjoying the little pop it made as it left the tight seal of your lips.

He looked down at you with hazy eyes, watching the way your lips pouted as you slid your lips up his length. When you caught his eyes, the pupils suddenly widened and he immediately looked away, head snapping straight back to look up at the ceiling.

“I can’t look at you right now,” he breathed, by way of explanation, “You’re too perfect; I’ll come too fast.”

You flushed, glowing with his praise. Though Five was a loving partner, his compliments were usually hidden beneath layers of self-consciousness and sarcasm. Him saying this now was evidence of how overwhelmed he was: inhibitions swept away in the rush of reunion.

Slowly, you withdrew and laid your head against his stomach so that his cock rested on your cheek. You looked up at him adoringly, simultaneously enjoying the intensity of his arousal and giving him time to calm down.

“I love you Five.”

“I love you too, baby.” he said, voice breathy and hoarse, “Now, please god, take me to bed and treat me like that pillow.”

You smiled, rose to your feet and led him to the bed, helping him out of the pants around his ankles. Standing by his side of the bed, you kissed his lips gently, enjoying the way his dick stabbed and pressed periodically at your thighs. When you broke apart, you looked into his eyes, at his soft look with his thick eyelashes shading his eyes.

Aware of his injury, you supported him as he lay down, helping him to ease onto the mattress with the bare minimum of pain. His solid presence in your arms as he let you assist him was bliss.

Though you were being careful not to place any weight where it would hurt him, he pulled you into his arms.

“Please,” he whispered, “I want you to fuck me. Ride me. Just use me to get off. Use me like a goddamn dildo. I don’t care. I need you.”

You smirked at this.

“Who are you and what have you done with Five?”

“Please.”

More begging. You didn’t have it in you to tease him, not when you too were desperate to feel his body against yours, to feel him inside you, to mingle your sighs and your pleasure with his.

You slipped him inside you and gasped. The resumption of this perfect coupling alone told you just how much you needed it. You knew you missed it, but now he was inside you again, you realized that it made you whole. His small keen as he slid home was enough to send a fluttering shudder from your center outwards.

“Let me take care of you,” you whispered, leaning close to him.

He nodded, biting his lower lip and caressing your hips.

Slowly, you began to grind against him, rolling your hips with him inside you, moving on top of him just as you did the pillow. This time, it really was Five beneath you, his cock twitching inside you, hitting and charging that sweet spot inside you until it felt like you were buzzing with his electricity.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned, “Five!”

“I-don’t-deserve you,” he panted, “So perfect. Perfect. Beautiful girl…so goddamn sexy. I love you. I-fucking- Ah!”

He always got more talkative yet less coherent the closer he got. He was watching your swinging breasts, hanging a few inches above his face. You leaned forwards immediately, keen to give him what he couldn’t take for himself a few minutes before.

He took the hint eagerly, taking your nipple into his mouth and groaning along with you at the change of angle. He suckled enthusiastically, hungrily; hand leaving your hip to rub your breast with his palm.

His groans now sent miniature, warm vibrations onto your nipple, creating a new center for charge to build upon. As it crackled down your limbs, stoking the heat in your stomach and groin, you moaned, wanting to ride him hard- ride him like a bike - but you were reluctant to let loose in case you hurt him.

Instead, you rolled your hips upon him desperately. Judging by the sudden shout from him and the ache from your pussy, this motion was to both of your liking. You were on the edge now, teetering.

“Gonna come. Gonna come.” he whispered, urgently, removing his mouth from your titty with a wet sound.

He meant this to warn you but, instead, his desperate voice gave you the final push.

As you came, your pussy clenched, squeezing him suddenly. His eyes shot open and he all-but squealed at the unexpected stimulation. His hips surged upwards, the pain from his chest eclipsed for the moment by this maddening, raging orgasm. It felt like your pussy was milking it from him, pulling his rapid shots of come up into itself.

At last, you came to a stop.

“Is the world safe?” you asked, after a warm breathless minute or two.

“Yes,” he said weakly, “the world’s all okay.”

You carefully climbed off him, laid beside him and held him. There was the fresh smell of his shampoo and antiperspirant. The smell of home if ever there was one. After a minute or two becoming heavier in your arms, he spoke again.

“Well, the world’s certainly all okay now.”

He stroked your stomach as if you were made of paper-thin glass, inclining his head towards yours as he spoke again.

"I meant what I said: you are perfect, you know."

Request masterlist >> HERE

NOTE:

I take Five requests, I'm fairly versatile in what I write (fluff, smut, angst, psychological character study- I'll try it all) but I will consider them on a case by case basis. See masterlist for request status and more.

#the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy imagine #umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy smut #the umbrella academy five #umbrella academy number five #umbrella academy five x reader #umbrella academy five x you #five hargreaves x you #five hargreaves x reader #number five imagine #five hargreeves imagine #number 5 imagine #number 5 x reader #number five x you

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rcksmith · 1 year

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Untouchable - Five Hargreeves

You can find the 2 request here: anonymous 1, anonymous 2.

Resume: The villain falls in love with the girl.

Trope: “ Who did this to you?” “Touch her and you are dead.” “i´ll find you in every lifetime”

Couple: Five Hargreeves /Fem!Reader.

Warnings: A LOT OF ANGST, swearing, mention of death, blood, fight between the Hargreeves and the Sparrows,a little enemies to lovers in the end, fluff, SMUT, degrading talk.

Word count: 15k.

A/N: Spoiler from season 3.

OMG THIS IS HUGE JAHHSHDAHSDJAHDHND it turned out bigger than i expected.

Because I have a lot of requests in my box, I compile orders that are similar and put together, but I took care to added all the elements that were asked for individually, and made sure that all ideas were respected and written down.

We not tolerate any pedophilia here!! I write about Five with their 20s. I write the same about the characters of Harry Potter, MHA and others fandoms.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are OPEN. Love you ❤️

-----------

Honor comes from the Latin honoris. Indicating a person who lives with honesty and probity, basing their way of life on the dictates of morality. A principle that leads someone to have a righteous, virtuous conduct, which allows to enjoy a good reputation in society.

Five Hargreeves thought of himself as a callous man with no honor and, somehow, able to drown out the voice of morality in his head. He was very knowledgeable about literature and history, and his physics and math skills could surpass Tesla's, but philosophy for him was a bunch of weak principles and dictated by people who didn't really know the world, who didn't pass 1% of what he passed by, who did not see what he saw. Not even Socrates, Plato or Machiavelli had known the worst of humanity like him, the truth about realities. A big part of his existence came down to surviving, fighting, winning, crushing everything that threatened his life.

His cynical outlook on life led him to pragmatism, and he knows that if he wants something done, he will have to do it himself.

His actions were more about getting things done than about displaying a display of rebellion or power. However, Five was not afraid of pain or even killing. He didn't mind being the author of the worst massacres if it meant going back to his family.

Five Hargreeves don't give a damn about being the villain of the story. He did what had to be done.

It was why, when The Handle ordered him to carry out the death sentence of a Duke and Duchess in 1730, Five did not question or hesitate.

Even though in the back of his mind, in a very small part of his brain, the question arose as to why people from such an old and outdated date, he did nothing about it, much less pulled the thread from the ball of yarn that would trigger a series of questions in a row. His job was not to ask why, to investigate step by step, to go through file by file. Five wasn't on The Commission to know the reason for each death, he was on the execution.

So he went, letting the suitcase unfold before his eyes an ancient era, from a faraway time, introducing him to carriages, flowing dresses, gigantic balls. And, as much as some people considered that era poetic, Five never liked lack of practicality.

So he killed the couple as quickly as possible, determined to escape from the need to spend more hours in that old-fashioned place.

It was like any other murder he had committed over the years on The Commission; he came, killed, and left. No looking back, no questions, no hesitation. Drowning in the deepest wave any second feelings that might have submerged, ensuring his emotions were chained very well at the bottom of the ocean.

It was easy, normal, routine. He was once again the villain, and could sleep very well the night with that.

But something began to change gradually in the atmosphere, in the air.

On some mornings, it was as if Five's hands were tingling for no apparent reason, eager to catch up something he had no idea what it was. On some afternoons, his heart vibrated in his chest, like a ground being punished by an earthquake, shaking his balanced state of mind. And, on some dawns, Five's mouth was as dry as the Sahara desert, thirsty for something that not even the coldest water could appease.

Wherever he was the air stayed suddenly thin, stuffy. And sometimes, in the middle of a mission, the wind seemed to blow in only one direction, hitting Hargreeves' back as if pushing him to go in a path. At those moments, his heart returned fluttered in his chest, as if he knew that one north was calling him and was that where he needed to go.

Everything inside Hargreeves began to be affected by strange reactions, spurred by banal, mundane events.

An in a few seconds, if Five stood completely still, silencing his thoughts and hollowing out any inner voices, he could hear something in the wind calling for him. Small seconds that swept away any balance that one day he ever had.

Five Hargreeves was going through a peripeteia, and he had no idea what was causing it.

What hell is going on?

It was wen, on an afternoon where the sun hid with shame among the dark gray clouds, The Handler gave him another murder.

In 1750.

His soul shuddered inside him in that second, echoing through his bones, keeping Five's egyptian green eyes fixed on the paper in his hands, unable to look away from the bold numbers that indicated the date of his next mission.

The icy breeze ruffled his dark hair, but he didn't move. There seemed to be something important and unspoken in the air, and this time, the voice calling his name on the wind grew softly louder. Now, it didn't seem to come from the back of his mind anymore, but from a place far away.

Five looked around, in an instinctive movement in the pathetic and vain attempt to find the source of that voice.

Nothing. As always.

“Five.” The Handler snapped her fingers in front of his face “May I have your precious attention?" The irony didn't go unnoticed, but his eyes flickered to hers. “As I was saying, the time and place of this mission is strictly important. Viscount Sebastian needs to be killed in his office at midnight, in the middle of his daughter's debut ball, not a minute less and nowhere else.”

Hargreeves gave a nod. Not because he had devoted all of his attention to her, just because he wanted her to stop talking. Much of his concentration was still on the way his body and the hemisphere around him behaved. Mission times and places were standard, no need to focus on this nonsense and listen to someone reiterate the rules as if Five were a child. He was 26 years old, a child was the last thing he was.

Something seemed to be happening, occult like a current that rattles under the sea. And the knowledge that he couldn't see the bottom of the ocean unnerved every cell in his body. Hargreeves couldn't stand things he couldn't perceive, understand how it works, take it apart and put it back together again.

This time, when Five returned to the eighteenth century, with 20 years having passed in that time after his visit and only 2 weeks for him, what hit him first was not the impracticality, the carriages, the big dresses. But the wind. Strong, cold, bringing with it the voice who called his name for weeks, now loud and clear.

The dark strands of his body prickled, and he could feel his heartbeat in his throat. Suddenly, anxiety snaked through his body like venom, stirring every fiber in his body, pumping something into his veins that made his blood heat like lava. An emotion he couldn't name what it was.

In the last mission, Five had a string of complaints about the way the black waistcoat squeezed the white linen shirt over his abdomen, and how heavy the straight-cut coat felt heavy under his shoulders. But in this time, he wasn't bothered with the clothes he had to wear so as not to attract attention and go unnoticed. Now, with his heart pounding in his chest, his throat dry and the constant feeling that he had to be somewhere urgently, his clothes were the last things on his mind.

It was an emotion that squeezed the pit of his stomach, made his hands itch and his body shot with an adrenaline that screamed that he needed to move. That he had a more important place to be. All the sensations he'd felt leisurely over the weeks now came back with absurd force, as if he were getting close to the source of it all.

What was happening?

The moon in that far away era shone sovereignly in the sky, blessing the houses, carriages and large mansions with cascades of distilled light in the purest color of silver.

Las time, the feeling that came over Five was to get out of there as quickly as possible. But now, looking around in search of the source of the voice calling him in the wind, the last thing on his mind was leaving.

His watch still read eight o'clock, but the sensation was like he was already late.

The most practical plan was to stay hidden somewhere near the mansion where the ball was being held. Avoiding crowds, witnesses, minimizing risk and being a shadow. As always did. The most rational thing to do was to stay away from that place at all costs, until the inevitable arrived and he was forced to enter through one of the windows.

He should have done it. But he didn't.

Just as a sailor follows a siren's song on the high seas, Five followed that voice on the wind. His brain screamed for him to seek a hiding place, but his soul rebelled with an absurd ferocity, ricocheting tremors through all his bones and ordering his legs to follow a path his conscious did not know. His whole mind was confused, but his soul carried a certainty that no other living being had ever had in they life.

With no other option, stunned by the sensations in his own body, he found himself walking towards the front door of the only place he was supposed to avoid until midnight.

If Five Hargreeves had to describe what was happening to his five senses, he would say that his vision was mildly blurred, as if were searching for focus. The smell was of climax and the ambient sounds were drowned out by his own heartbeat. It was like being there in flesh and blood, but not in soul.

He didn't focus on the details of the world around him, but he knew when he finished climbing the front steps. He couldn't focus on the conversation around him, but he knew that a few people were walking beside him.

His mind saw everything, but processed nothing.

It was a mistake not to be 100% aware of the environment, not to study each individual's body language, not to constantly calculate the odds of a move going wrong. But... it was as if something prevented him from emerging to the surface.

Five didn't respond when the butler greeted him at the entrance to the great hall, but looked around as the wind from outside hit his back and his name rang in his ears once more.

It was a female voice. Now he could tell.

Going deeper into the hall, the melody of the orchestra invaded his ears while thousands of people, talking, dancing and drinking, took his view. Everything resembled a blur on a painting, the sounds were still muffled as if Five were at the bottom of the sea, and the smell transitioned between flowers, feminine perfume and poetry.

Five Hargreeves was a pragmatic, cynical and austere man. Everything that made up his being was based on rationality, laws of physics and mathematical concepts, he wasn't oscillated by tender things and he certainly wasn't carried away by things of the heart or soul. He always followed what rationality dictated. Until now.

Until now.

Like a violin string that ruptured, Hargreeves was gripped by the feeling that something very important was about to happen. Something that would not only change his existence forever, but change him for eternity. This fact stared him at back, bold, warm and as inevitable as the setting sun. And very hair on his body stood on end at once while everything inside him pulsed with a brutality that could shake his bones.

Now, the sound of the orchestra was drowned out by the soundtrack of his life, which was coming closer to apex by the second. It was like being submerged in a slow-motion, in a moment that preceded an momentous event.

As magnets are pulled one by the other in an impassable way, his eyes, as if they already knew where to look, were drawn to a figure among the others who danced in the middle of the hall.

You.

Was like an explosion. Loud and brutal. He suddenly submerged from the bottom of the sea, bewildered, desperate, out of breath. The stupor released itself all at once, bringing his mind back to the reality. Instantaneously, nothing was blurred anymore, sounds weren't muffled, and he abruptly returned to his conscious state. But his soul was not so lucky. Like being whipped by live eels, his heart pounded in his chest with such fury that he leaned over forward millimeters, his throat was drier than the Egyptian desert and now his hands itched in a hellish, bestial, uncontrollable way.

Five Hargreeves has released himself from a wave of numbness only to be hit by a tsunami of sensation.

His eyes were seeing everything clearly now, but he couldn't take his attention away from the female figure dancing in the middle of the room, her bouffant gown swirling gracefully across the floor as if deities were blowing the fabrics.

There were a lot of people around him, in front of him, behind him, but Five Hargreeves only had eyes for you.

In an insane, magical and inexplicable logic, Five had the purest certainty that it was your voice that called him in the wind, that was by the desire to touch your skin that his hands itched. Five would never be able to explain it to other people, but at that moment, there was nothing more concrete on Earth, in physics and science, than the certainty that was because of you that his soul felt, so many times, that he should be somewhere else.

Like the indubitability that you need oxygen to breathe, touching your skin has become just as indispensable. It was a matter of needing, something that now not only itched his hands, but corroded the bones in his fingers.

There was no reason for all those absurd feelings, Five had never even seen you before. But rationality had no space in that moment.

There, in that rift between the past, future and parallel realities, there was no discernment, lucidity, judgment. It was a hideaway free of any cohesiveness, with the smell of romance, an atmosphere full of emotion, passion and poetry. A distant era that allowed, for the first time in many years, that the soul of Five Hargreeves to take control of his body.

He moved, one step after another, his focus petrified on you. With each centimeter closer to your body, the more he felt able to breathe again, relieving the brutal anxiety that had been beating him for weeks, giving a truce to the martyrdom that lacerate him day after day without even him even knowing why.

You had finished your dance, clapping along with the other guests for the orchestra that started the new melody, this time more lyrical.

Your hair, the tone of which seemed to be the personification of poetry, of art, was tied in a bun that allowed a few strands to fall under your neck, the skin of your bust was speckled with a few little droplets of sweat, the perfect amount to glisten under the yellowish light of the candles in the chandelier, making a divine, almost celestial aurora radiate from you. The dark blue gown referred back to the night sky in its greatest splendor, highlight your full breasts at the straight neckline and opening at the hips in a skirt that preached the illusion of you being floating across the hall. Your lips were a red that Five had never seen in his life. A red that seemed to exist only to serve you, enhancing the color of your eyes.

You were like a mirage. An oasis in the farthest desert. One of those paintings that people come from all over the world to see in person, capable of sweeping, taking they breath away, making they cry for having to live with the burden of never having the possibility of knowing you in life.

The romantic period was going on in that century, society was tired of trends in intellectual thinking, rationalization, industrialization and the veneration of science. People longed for an escape into emotionally charged images and fantastical fiction in the visual arts and literature. And Five Hargreeves was certain that you were one of the greatest inspirations of this movement. It was so clear that you were the influence of John Waterhouse's paintings, sweeping the hearts of artists and illuminating poets. Lord Byron was thinking of you when he created the short lyric poem “She Walks in Beauty”, completely fascinated by you.

That thought shuddered Five's soul even more. And an acidic emotion rose in his throat and burned his eyes. In his chest was injected the feeling that he was facing one of the greatest beauties in history, the person the poems and paintings were based on, the inspiration for so many names of literature and art that would become renowned.

There, in front of him, was more than a person. It was a piece of history, art, literature, a beauty that was immortalized and that would be admired even after centuries. Five had already gone to different times in the past, but nothing touched his soul as much as now. As much as you.

Five Hargreeves went in your direction like a sailor following a siren's song across the seven seas.

You were relatively distracted when he got to you. Lungs catching breath from the last dance, body preparing for the next, your mind was on that ballroom but your heart was far away. It was universally true that girls your age should revel in balls like this one. Full of potential husbands, dancing and music, governed by a perfect night for falling in love. You came to like it in the past, but now, after so many similar events, everything didn't have the same magic anymore.

You've heard enough stories - filled with adrenaline, pirate ships and dangerous waters - to crave adventure in your life. It was also noticed that you spent too much time with your books, and that the consequence of spending so many hours in the fictional world brought you very high standards for men and love. The whispers through the darkened streets were that you would end up a spinster. Since you took no interest in any gentleman who courted your hand.

In your defense, it wasn't your fault. The men in your reality were terribly...tasteless.

That was until he showed up.

You don't know where he emerged, or what lineage he was from, much less his name. But he came towards you like that was more important than breathing. In a virile, perfect posture. As if he knew all the secrets of the world and was able to show you them.

One of the first things you noticed were the eyes. The room was partially dark, lit only by the flickering candles in the candelabra, but the darkness only made his eyes clearer. Intense greens. Of such a pure emerald tone that it shone like a mystical cat, calling you to sink in his greenish sea. The stranger had hair as black as midnight, which fell softly and romantically over a face with firm features; jaw as sharp as a razor and a nose full of masculine personality. Although was well dressed, all his clothes, with the exception of the white linen shirt, were as dark as the strands of his hair, something unusual among the sophisticated gentlemen who were invited.

Looking at that gorgeous face, you were left speechless. The deities had been generous to this man, gifting him with bold, aristocratic features and iris as green as Egypt's most precious jewels. The mystery and secrets contained within in those eyes were a fascinating contrast.

“Can I have this dance?” Just a sentence.

He didn't introduce himself, he didn't say who he was. He just dropped that sentence as if it was the only thing he really cared to say.

The gravity of his words made your heart flutter. What a beautiful voice that man had. With a provocative huskiness, a touch of superb, as if he were an oracle at his peak in ancient Greece. The sound seemed to seep into your body and run through you like warm honey.

The truth was, you had reserved the dance for another gentleman, but in that second, you couldn't care less.

“Of course, milord.” That's what you said, accepting the hand he extended to you.

Never taking his eyes off yours, an unfamiliar sensation washed over your mortal body and engulfed everyone around you. You wondered if it was just the stuff of your imagination or if he too felt the electricity whip through his body as he positioned you closer to dance.

Single women weren't allowed to touch men's hands if you weren't wearing gloves, and that rule had never bothered you. Until now.

Until be affected by an insane, visceral desire to feel that man's skin. Of experiencing the heat radiating from his hand against yours, of feeling those white fingers, slender and pale, holding your denude skin. You've never been touched by a man without a layer of clothing intervening. No brushing of elbows, no bumped of fingers, no errant caresses. And you wondered what it was about that man that made you aware of this deprivation. That stranger radiated secrets in an inexplicable but extremely palpable way in the air and you wanted to feel the touch of mystery on your skin more than you wanted to breathe. A will as strong as fear, as intense as hunger.

Your soul screamed in frustration because of the dress when his hand cupped your cover waist. In a touch so firm it only existed in the romance novels you read. Your heart raced, your breath disappeared, and you didn't notice when you rested your hand on his shoulder and your feet began to follow the rhythm of the waltz.

It was pathetic the intensity of your emotions for a man you had just met and didn't even know his name. But, it was like you'd found something didn't even know you'd lost.

Well… if it was the lack of knowledge of his name that was making things a little difficult…

“Aren't you going to tell me your name? Mine is Y/n”

Your voice, sweet as molasses, velvety as suede, made the hairs on the back of Five's neck stand on end. He recognized the timbre now, he had already heard you calling for him in the wind, but nothing surpassed hearing you from inches away.

This was one of those moments where, if you asked Five why he was doing this, he couldn't answer. He couldn't find any logical answers to his actions, reactions, thoughts. But, once again, this rift in space and time was an environment free of rationality. He didn't need this here. He felt he didn't need to. Not when had you in his arms.

A name…

Five Hargreeves was the name of a villain. Someone who would carry on his shoulders to the grave the weight of the thousands of souls he killed. Someone whose hands were marked, eternally, with thick, hot blood. A proof that his destiny was traced directly to hell. His name was the personification of a freak created to be a hero, an orphan in the apocalypse, a man who belonged nowhere in the timeline, someone without family for many decades.

He looked at the hands that held you. The hands of a serial killer. And then he looked at you, full of beauty, life, happiness and innocence. It was like committing a crime against nature to hold something so pure in such infamous, disgraced, death-scarred hands. And something inside he twisted with something like pain…disgust, for the fist time.

His soul didn't want to hold you in the hands of Five Hargreeves.

Five Hargreeves was the villain. And he didn't want to be that man right there.

His mouth, which looked so beautiful yet so dangerous, softly approached the foot of your ear, while the body of you two continued to follow the steps of the waltz. "We don't need names here."

A current of electricity slammed into your body like a whiplash from a live eel, raising goose bumps on parts of your skin you didn't even know you had. My goodness, it was a sin for a single man to have that much charm.

Sensible young women would have turned away at once. Practical girls who appreciated rationality, sincerity and transparency, who had no estimate for games, mystery and sensuality, would have rolled their eyes. But you were not sensible, practical or appreciative of the good customs of the epoch.

You were romantic, hungry for a good charade, adventure. And that man seemed to be built by those two things.

The world was just a shapeless blur, other people were no more than wandering silhouettes, and the atmosphere was enraptured by the flickering orange light of the candles in the candelabra. The smell was of poetry, romance and freedom, which intoxicated the brain and alcoholize any common sense. Was like a magical place in the middle of space and time, a rift that allowed just being. Time passed slowly, as if dancing together with you two.

‘One second can change many things...’

Just as Five could hear his father's voice saying 'I told you so' during his years in the apocalypse, he could hear his words now.

‘you can crumble empires, win battles...’

Five swirled you around before pulling you into his arms once more, his heart pounding with each passing moment. Neither of you realized it, but every second you spent together, every step, more messed up the timeline.

You smiled full of romance and magic as he leaned you back, his hand firm on your spine, bringing you to the surface and returning to dance around the hall with the waltz that dandle yours bodies.

‘you can fall in love.’

With every strong step the two of you took on the floor, in an apocalypse dance, realities were immediately misaligned. With each spin, lines of events were exploded into other universes. With each look shared, with each smile, with each heartbeat full of romance, people were erased, born, disappeared.

An apocalypse was brewing somewhere because of his hands on your body. A mystical waltz that brought the ascension of chaos in other timelines.

Neither of you two knew about it. But if Five knew, he wouldn't keep his hands off you anyway. Five Hargreeves was the villain in many realities. And he would accept the burden of being in a few more if it meant having you in his arms.

In an inexplicable and irrational way, what was happening now had more importance than everything he had ever lived and would live through in his entire life.

"You dance very well." You praised him, and his hands on you tighten a little more.

"No more than you". Then he gave that smile.

The half smile that lifted only one corner of his mouth. Malicious, sagacious, sphinx. Who promised to know all the mysteries of the world and show you all the sins of life. What man was that? So full of charm, sensuality, beauty. He seemed out of this world and you found yourself wishing that time would freeze in that moment, that you could hold onto your chest and live in that dance for the rest of your life.

There was something different in the air. A soul-deep feeling that whispered that your life would never be the same again.

Not after this man.

“It is not difficult to find women who dance.” You joked. "You've certainly danced with others to know."

Yes, with his mother and Allison.

But even if he had been dancing with all the women in the world, they would have disappeared in that moment. No memories memory experiences with other women could stand out at that moment.

"If I danced, they all disappeared the moment I waltzed with you." He realized he might have said the right thing, because he could see the breath go out of your lungs and cheekbones flush deliciously.

God in heaven… this girl was breathtakingly beautiful.

Five led you around the hall masterfully, committing your features to his mind like the tattoo on his wrist. Permanently, eternally. Suddenly, he was struck down by the insane desire to know more about you. To hear more of your voice, to taste the way the words flowed from your lips like the purest honey.

You were like a drug, an obsession. An addiction that had stuck with him since the first time he came into that century, since he breathed the same air as you, since he coexisted under the same night sky as you. There was insane logic in the fact that his soul felt your presence without even seeing you on that first mission. He would never be able to explain it, but somehow it made sense inside in him.

Five Hargreeves didn't think about what would happen when he had to leave. He didn't think about the withdrawal his body would suffer when he was away from you. Much less noticed the way there seemed to be something important in the air. If he had been in full intellectual faculties and grounded in rationality, he would have managed to understand that that something was the temporal lines collapsing, an apocalypse forming elsewhere, pure and perfect chaos destroying parallel realities.

But he was not being led by rationality. And even if he was, he wouldn't have minded a few worlds burning if it meant having you next to his body. He didn't care. But The Commission was a different case.

But Five Hargreeves wasn't thinking about any of that.

He conducted a conversation with you the way he conducted that waltz. He discovered that you liked the high seas even though you were never allowed to be on a ship. You loved nature and enjoyed good books. He heard your eagerness to know the world and learn about different cultures, that you wanted to unravel the mysteries of Egypt, see the architecture of Greece, visit Spain and wanted to go swim in the beaches of Brazil. You were an adventurer, and Five's heart skipped a beat for it.

But in a corner of his soul, deep down, he felt an ache reverberate through his bones. The urge to tell you about the world came with overwhelming force, and something inside him died when he realized he could never tell you the truth about the subjects you cared about.

He could never tell all that the world already knew about Egypt, about its tombs and its pharaohs. He could never be able to show the beauty of Brazil's beaches that become famous tourist spots, and he reserved a note in his brain that you would have loved to visit Genipabu in Brazil, a beach with huge sand dunes that seemed to be the junction of a huge desert whit a beach. He could not tell you what science, oceanography and marine biologists already knew about the oceans. He could never say about the cruises that roamed the seas in all the luxury and comfort, much less about the planes.

Five Hargreeves would never be able to show you the world. And his soul decided to torture itself even more thinking about what it would be like if you were from his time. The things you would do, the freedom you could enjoy.

He could show you anything you wanted, tell you the secrets of the universe…His secrets.

When the waltz was over, on a note as dramatic as the situation, you couldn't say goodbye to him. Your soul, enchanted and completely enraptured by the man in front of you, vehemently refused to remove your hand over his. It seemed that every molecule in your body, every corner of your spirit, every fiber of your being, had defined that it was with that man that they wanted to stay. Forever.

What was foolish.

The truth was that the sensation of poetry, romance and magic that surrounded you two throughout the dance, had evaporated from the air like mist in the sun. Now the sure that you two weren't meant to be together hung in the air like a black cloud, thundering and flashing. This feeling oppressed you with an overwhelming force, so tangible it was possible to cut it with a razor.

No words needed to be said, but it was stamped into the environment, filling every millimeter and gap, putting that magical dance into a category that would never go beyond that: a dance.

A feeling of melancholy jabbed your throat like a scorpion's sting, injecting an emotion of sadness and helplessness into your blood like distilled poison. You didn't want that to be the end. You didn't want to say goodbye. Even with everything in the air indicating that whatever existed between the two of you, ended here, now.

Five's eyes seemed to exude the same as you. Feeling the end heavy and resounding in the air, reverberating like thunder, as every corner of his soul roared the opposite. The green sea of his irises looked like it was in the middle of a storm. Full of pain, anger. With colossal waves and revolts, which promised to destroy everything they saw ahead. Just like the oceans did in the apocalyptic events in the era of Younger Dryas.

Somehow, without having to utter a single sentence, you both knew you were feeling the same thing. Wishing, with all their might, that this wasn't the end, that they were able to hold time against their chest in a tight, desperate embrace, an attempt to freeze the pointers.

At that moment, Five clamored, to any god who would listen, that you not be taken from his arms.

However, like the evil joke that was his life, his thoughts were cut short by the chiming of the clock. 11 chimes. That echoed in his soul like the trumpets of hell, laughing at him, mocking him, making fun of a murderer thinking he would be graced with something like you.

Five Hargreeves was a villain. And he was destined to have the things villains deserve. And none of this things included someone like you.

In that sadistic moment, Five finally understood a sentence from one of the books Grace read to them at night; ‘If I were to kiss you then go to hell, I would. So then I can brag with the devils I saw heaven without ever entering it.’

Yes. Now he understood. Five Hargreeves leaned in, bringing the back of your hand to his lips, laying a kiss that, however much it was impeded by the muslin layer of your glove, he prayed that this kiss could transmit all the feelings he could never say. This are the only kiss he could give you. That sentence echoed in his head like a fact, as sure as the sky is blue, as true as the salt in the oceans.

And when he went to the core of hell, paying for all his sins, he would brag to the other demons that he had been to heaven without ever having entered it.

You wish you'd said something, asked where he was from, stopped him from going. But none of that happened. This was one of those moments that we regret forever, that are branded in a red-hot iron in the soul, in the mind, in the body. Everything inside you was screaming to go after him when Five turned arund and walked into the sea of guests. But he disappeared in the waves before you could even move your feet.

No one had to tell you, but you knew you'd never see him again. And your heart would never beat for another.

-----------

Five Hargreeves has had to do a lot of horrible things over the years. Actions he wasn't proud of but he knew needed to be done, nights awash in blood and the smell of death.

But nothing has wobble him as much as you have.

His soul, body and mind, trained since he was a child not to develop any weakness that would prevent him from being a perfect hero, then perfected and aggravated by the Commission to be the unbeatable assassin, were rarely stirred by feelings.

He was cynical, hard-nosed, crotchety and arrogant. He never got carried away by emotions and, as much as his desire to save his family is pure, he will cross any ethical lines for the greater good. And all of that made him the Commission's best weapon.

Until now.

Until his emotions messed up not just one, but thousands of timelines. Created catastrophes, formed apocalypses, killed people. Hargreeves meeting you was something that could never have happened. Repudiated not just by nature but by the gods. Having you in his arms was like a crime against the timeline, against the balance of the world.

And heavens and hells would make him pay. With work, blood, or his heart. Promising to take not only the soul, but any hope of laying eyes on you once again. As Icarus had his downfall for the sun, so Hargreeves had for you. In a triumphal ruin.

“Do you have any idea what you caused ?!” It was the first thing The Handler said as soon as Five returned from his mission, seconds after he had killed his target.

Her voice was loud, suffused with anger and rage and… despair. Five frowned, soul still aching from having to leave you, your warmth still in his arms. He didn't have the head to deal with her right now. Not when he had so much to process.

“A death.”

“Don't play smart on me!” Her roar was loud enough for Hargreeves to realize that something really serious was going on. The Handler was many things, but she never got worked up without good reason.

The clatter of her heels echoed through the room as she walked towards him, her eyes full of fierce emotion.

“You had only one job to do! One! Kill the man and get out of there. Like always!" Her voice was as rough as desert sand. “But not only did you mess up entire timelines, but created apocalypses on thousands of worlds that were to happen only thousands of years later!"

Five's mind was racing like a Catarina wheel, spinning at full throttle as it tried to put the pieces together. He blinked once, twice, his heart starting to race with the feeling that something devastating was about to be revealed.

He looked at The Handler, who understood his look. "That's right! Your little feat of dancing with that girl shattered thousands of timelines! People were killed, disappeared, events took a completely different course because of your little impertinence!"

She pulled his arm towards the thousands of screens that monitored infinite realities. And what he saw was chaos. Pure and perfect. Some worlds succumbed to fire, others to water, others to war. But they had devastation as a resemblance.

Five can hear the voices of other Commission workers in the background, in another corridor, other rooms. Some sounded desperate, others irritated, and others helpless, but all seemed concerned. He couldn't even say that he didn't know that little things had chain reactions. Because he knew. There was nothing to justify his actions, for he didn't even have a good reason for himself.

But the truth was, even staring the apocalypse in the face across nine different monitors, he felt no…remorse. There wasn't a part of him that would have done differently, that wouldn't have touched you, that wouldn't have known you. Deep in his soul Hargreeves knew he didn't care how many worlds he had destroyed just by touching you. He was going to hell anyway, it was better to have a memory of you to remember for eternity.

"...we'll have to kill her." It was just that sentence that Five's messed up mind paid attention to.

Then everything stopped.

The weather, the conversations. The world seemed to have held their breath, suspended, staring at Five. Everything inside him fell silent into scary silence, and he turned slowly toward The Handler, all his senses heightened, heart still, mind clear.

She seemed to notice his state. "What did you expect?! You know how things work. Causers of apocalypse get killed, that's our job! And because of that dance of yours, this girl has caused nine different apocalypses.”

There was a kind of insane, evil logic to the situation. The last riddle of gods and life to see Five Hargreeves on his knees. Broken, empty. To punish his sins, taking from him what he took from so many people. They engineered his downfall perfectly, writing with a red-hot iron on his soul the sentence that he could never be happy. His curse, the price to pay. Cosmic fit.

What the fucking hell.

“I'll send some agent to kill her immediately and...”

But Five Hargreeves has never been one to accept sentences imposed on him with his head down. Limitations, rules. He made his own destiny, no matter what he told him, and lived with the consequences. No god, destiny or universe dictated his life.

Everything inside him roared like a beast. Exploding, bursting, sending any control flying away. In an action without any hesitation, delicacy or ambiguities, his hand closed on The Handler's arm. In a firm, strong, tense grip that started hurt her very soon.

She looked at him in a mixture of shock and annoyance. There were very few people in the world willing to face a woman on her level, some too fearful, others who value life too much. But Five Hargreeves was none of those things. He'd never known any predator he should fear, everyone knew he was capable of anything and everything. Maybe there was no line he was able from crossing, or plan he wasn't capable of executing.

Five Hargreeves was the predator she should fear.

And The Handler realized that. For in that pair of eyes she saw danger, rage, pure and perfect hate. His sea of green gave way to red, glittering waves, shining with all the blood he had already spilled. And with a warning that he wouldn't mind spilling more.

“Stay. away. from. her. ” he guided each word with a tighter grip on her delicate arm, sure to leave marks that won't go away anytime soon.

Bewildered, she looked at him like a man possessed, filled with a rage that could fuel hell all by itself. The Handler had never seen him in that state, he was always angry, annoyed, acidic, but that… that was hatred, a bloodthirsty hate.

Five Hargreeves promised to go to hell and drag anyone with him without saying a word.

For the first time in her life, The Handler was afraid.

“Five...you know her need to die...”

"Listen to me" He vociferate, shaking her by the arm. “I don't give a fuck what you have to say. I swear, for all that exists in this world, that if you lay one finger on her, there will be nowhere on earth you can fuck hide from me.”

Five Hargreeves was a tall, masculine man, wrapped in a macabre and sinister aura when he wanted to. He pulled The Handler closer, his face filled with colossal rage being etched like a tattoo into her soul.

“I don't give a fuck about how many worlds are ending, I don't give a fuck if fucking people are dying! You won't touch her until the day I'm dead! And you can bet that, even seven feet under the ground, I'll find a way to take you with me to hell if you do fucking something to her."

You were untouchable.

All of his work on The Commission was about killing a number of people to save even more. But he would never, ever, sacrifice you for the greater good. Not even if it meant millions of dead people.

It didn't matter as long as you weren't one of the dead.

Without waiting for further discussion, he led The Handler towards the exit door, leading her out of the room and locking the door when he returned. Five wasn't stupid or naive to think that she would follow his orders. The handler might be afraid of him, but she knew how to get what she wanted, no matter how long it took. And now that he'd bruised her ego, Five knew she'd make it her primary mission to kill you.

Something he would never let happen.

If someone asked where so much anger, so much sense of protection came from, Five Hargreeves couldn't say. Because he didn't even know. In the same way that he still didn't understand everything that had happened, everything that he had been feeling, he still hadn't reasoned where such primitive, territorialist impulses came from. He had no idea where it all came from, but he was sure he could never let anything bad happen to you.

In a twisted and somewhat obscure way, you had gained a villain as a protector. A fallen angel who didn't promise to do good to people, but only to you. Who swore allegiance not to humanity, but solemnly, exclusively, to you.

It was a sensation that filled his entire body like boiling lava. And Five put his hand in the fire for the certainty that he would never be able to get rid of his feelings for you again.

His soul said that, as long as he was alive, he would be yours.

Making his mind work faster than it ever had before, Five Hargreeves concluded that every record of you had to go. There could no longer be documents proving that you were part of humanity. That once you had a name, a house, a reality. Five would have to erase you from any and all records. Forever. The only way to keep you out of the hands of the people who had access to every form of terrestrial existence, was to erase you from the world. Only then, hidden from the Commission, could you live happily. Fully.

But throwing all your documents away was signing the sentence that he was took the risk of never getting to see you again. Without them, finding someone was nearly impossible, much less accessing their reality. Five could start a calculation to find you one day, but that could take years, ages, and even if he memorized your documents number by number, did the calculations and managed to get to you without any side effects, The Commission could follow him and find you.

And finding a civilian's documents was much easier than finding a special agent like him and throwing them away too.

Once again, his life was a cruel joke of the gods, which served as entertainment for any higher power. Five strongly believed that, if there was anything above or below him, they designed his life for they own amusement.

Five Hargreeves spent hours in the file room, locked in that cubicle, not letting anyone in, not getting out. Once he disappeared with your documents, he would be declared a traitor and deserter, where his punishment would not only be more years of work, but death.

The world was spinning. Head ached. A sound gnawed at his mind, a scratch without melody, like a rustle of paper. Someone had taken a scream, a memory and a fear, crumpled it into a jagged ball, and used it to stuff Five's skull. He need to think of a plan that covered all the rough edges, but his eyes were bombarded with futures he didn't want to think about. Every time he blinked he felt the tragedy lurking in a dark and dismal corner, ready to catch him in their sharp mouths and take him somewhere he feared to go.

A place where the worst had happened to you.

Suddenly, the world was filled with secrets, fears and terror. Just as his soul took control of him in that night, it was the same in this moment. Five Hargreeves wasn't someone to get carried away by anything, but the feeling that something very bad was about to happen to you haunted him to the bone. That would be the perfect ending to his sinful life story; having the one person who touched his feelings so powerfully killed in the same way he killed so many other people.

Life was taking its toll on all the things he had done. For a second, he was afraid of that reckoning. Because the worst is not the bullet hitting yourself, but someone you like.

The feeling outside of being torn apart. All the patches and pieces of what it was to be Five Hargreeves - which he had been painstakingly piecing together throughout his life - were coming loose again, all at once. The clock was ticking, the hours were ticking, and he knew that just as he was coming up with a plan, so was The Handler.

It was a macabre race against time, in which if he lost, he had the feeling he would never fully recover. Not without a part of his soul dying along with you.

When he found your documents, the photo they had of you was a portrait made in that last century, a small painting of your face, eternalizing your smile. Suddenly, the memory of how you'd smiled at him like that gripped him like a demon. And when the memories of you intensified, they brought no comfort, just only fear and dread. Five Hargreeves could not live with himself if those memories were tainted by the knowledge that he was the cause of his tragedy. He would never be able to remember those tender moments again if memories of you were vandalized by images of how you were killed.

It was too late to remedy the consequences of what he had unleashed. The macabre possibilities of what The Handler could do to you were there, tattooed on his brain, as if they would snap open and bolt to reality at any moment. So, as panic rose, Five Hargreeves' mind slammed shut like a heavy book. He wouldn't let any of that happen. Never.

After scheming and checking all the plans in his mind, Five decided that he had already orchestrated the almost perfect scheme. He would destroy all of your documents and, when he had done that, he could no longer remain on the Commission. Thus, he would steal the mission from one of the agents about killing John F. Kennedy, the time that most closely matched his calculations to return to the family in 2019. Then Five Hargreeves would evade The Commission and deal with them without being an employee anymore. And even if they went after him, they would never find you.

Not even Five.

And so it was done.

-----------

Five Hargreeves went through the reunion with his family, faced the commission agents coming after him to kill him, dealt with The Handler and put up with his siblings drama.

In a matter of weeks, he had already gotten himself into so much trouble and confusion that sometimes he didn't even have time to breathe. Processing events and digesting them had become a luxury he no longer had, and saving the world from one apocalypse and falling into another had seemed to become a family pastime.

But there were nights. Cold, when the moon reached its apex in the sky and the rain poured down on the ground, when he was finally able to be alone and clear his mind. In those rare moments, the only thing on his mind was you.

Always you.

His point of peace, his refuge from his constant stress and pressure was in the images of you. In the way your body fit perfectly in his hands, in the way your gaze, enchanted and completely shining, did not leave his. Five Hargreeves felt that, like him at that moment, there was no other place you would rather be.

Twenty years could go by, but he would still feel what it was like to have your warmth in his arms, in the smell that your perfume exhaled and in the way the candles in the candelabra glowed on your skin. You were like a goddess, dancing at that ball as if the world would never be graced with such beauty again.

When Five Hargreeves closed his eyes, he could see you perfectly. Swirling around as if the ground were your clouds and everyone there were mere mortals, watching what the angels in heaven looked like.

It was like a dark paradise. He managed to slake some of that suffocating tightness in his chest whenever he returned to those memories, but it resulted in more flagellations in his poor, tortured soul. The notion that he would never have anything but memories, dreams, and mowed wishes, would skin him alive until his last days. Five would forever be haunted by the notion that, even when he died, you wouldn't be waiting on the other side.

You would be in heaven. And he belonged in hell.

But, it was worth it.

All the pain, all the desperation his soul struggled with, all the shortness of breath that coiled in his lungs, all the feeling of being stabbed with a dagger knowing his would never lay hands on you again, it was all worth it when he reviewed your face in his memories.

Five Hargreeves didn't clamored for relief from his pain, balm for the cuts deep in his soul, a minute's mercy. No, he accepted all of his fate with his head held high. He clamored for you to be okay. Safe, happy. Free from any worries or tribulations. He wished you had forgotten about him, erased that night from your blood, because it would be impossible to live if he knew you were suffering just like him.

Five Hargreeves had never given you a single kiss, tucked your hair in his fingers and tasted your tongue, but he didn't need it. His soul didn't need that to fall madly in love with you.

Yes, pure and perfect passion. It was the only logical explanation for how he felt about you.

Even though he never tasted your skin in his mouth, or touched you without the interference of a piece of clothing, Five Hargreeves was in love with you.

And it would be for the rest of his life.

-----------

All the Hargreeves siblings thought all was well when the Commission was defeated and they got a briefcase to take them back at home. The nightmare of the second apocalypse had already passed and now the feeling that invaded their bodies was one of relief. For a second, Klaus thought that everything would now be back on track; with the family together, stronger ties and improved relationships.

Everyone thought so, actually.

The shimmering blue flash engulfed all the brothers, passing through the barriers of space and time, leaving the Hargreeves in the mansion where they grew up and spent most of their lives. Everyone looked happy, relaxed. And Five also shared the same relief.

Until that fateful moment.

Until a draft of wind enter through the window behind him and hitting his back, bringing a feeling that immediately made every hair on his body stand on end. In a matter of seconds, all sense of relief, calm, and peace were shattered, exploding one by one with the same aggressiveness of a nuclear bomb. The world seemed to stumble and stoped, the colors of the hemisphere fluidized into a vintage orange, flickering, almost as if the lighting came from candles.

As much as his siblings were laughing and making noises, everything for Five was quiet, in a tacit silence. The sound of cars on the streets did not exist anymore, the conversations disappeared, and, little by little, the only thing he could hear was his own heartbeat. Increasing in tempo gradually, like a soundtrack.

Then, in the apex of silence, when Five could already hear the blood rushing through his veins, he listened.

Five.

Your voice in the wind, almost like a whisper. Calling for him. Just like you did a long time ago.

His soul gave a scream that shook him to the very bones, and he didn't notice when his eyes widened and his breath hitched. Suddenly, his whole body came back to life, being pulled sharply from the bottom of the ocean, submerging, desperately, breathless, astonished. Abruptly, the heat returned to his hands, to his cheeks, to his heart. Five could feel warmth coursing through his body as if they had rekindled the flame of his soul.

Was like resurrect.

He looked back in one jerk, spinning in place, heart pounding in his ribcage, his frantic, frantic eyes darting around every corner.

Nothing.

“Hey, are you okay?” Klaus looked back, focusing on his brother, but Five didn't respond.

He walked past Klaus as if he couldn't hear him, his eyes and hands trembling visibly, his step tight. Five chased the wind current as if he were chased his life, oblivious to anything or anyone.

His siblings, finding the situation strange, followed him without hesitation, accompanying the owner with green eyes entering more in the house. They had no idea what to expect, or what to think, but they stopped behind Five as he froze in the middle of the living room, eyes petrified, wide, fixed on a very specific spot at the top of the stairs.

But nobody noticed what he saw.

While all the Hargreeves were taken aback by Reginald's appearance in the outer corner of the room, stunned and petrified, growing more and more stunned as their father went on to explain the situation, Five couldn't take his eyes off the top of the stairs. Nothing in the world would have made him look elsewhere.

You.

Fucking hell...you.

There, standing next to people he didn't care to find out who they were, looking down, observing at the people who had just entered.

Suddenly, everything inside him was whipped by currents of electricity, as if he'd been struck by lightning. An argument seemed to be brewing in the background, but Five Hargreeves didn't fucking care. May the world explode, may everything end up in dust, fire or water. He didn't want to know.

You were there. With the sunlight coming through the large windows behind your back, and illuminating your silhouette as if you were a deity, a goddess, a muse. You shone. Like the gates of heaven. At that moment, the soul of Five Hargreeves fell to his knees in front of you. For you.

An extremely strong emotion invaded him without asking permission, destroying everything he once was. Five felt like crying.

As a war in the background unfolded, the people who were beside you started to descend the stairs one by one. But he couldn't take his eyes off you.

“Five. Five.” Luther seemed to call out to him in the background, but he didn't care.

You walked down the steps the same way you glided through that ballroom, as if the floor were your clouds. Yours robes were uniform this time, but Five was pretty sure that behind that high collar, your skin harbored a birthmark on your collarbone. Your hair was down, but he knew how you looked with your strands tied up.

With each step you took, more his pulse quickened. It was like a dream, a mirage, his oasis in the scorching desert. At some point in the battle against the Commission he had died, and that was his dream.

However, Luther's hand gripped his arm, forcing his green eyes to meet his brother's.

“Dude, what's wrong with you? Didn't you hear dad saying that we're in another reality?”

“I am not your father.” Reginald countered. “Not in this reality.”

Five frowned, rationality slowly returning to his body, his brain taking over once more. A parallel reality. That explained a lot. A reality where…you existed.

Holy shit.

Someone said the Hargreeves had better go, and Five would have laughed out loud if he hadn't submerged in thoughts. If they really was in a parallel reality, that meant you didn't remember him. You didn't even know him. The version who have danced with him was still in another century, in a timeline far, far away.

But…Five looked up. You radiated the same beauty of the romantic period as before, your skin still looked feather soft, your lips still where able to take away his complete self-control, your eyes still have… the same glow that he remembered so many times during so many nights.

You didn't know him, but that didn't matter. Because Five knew you.

He suffered the worst of martyrdoms all this time, and now that he'd finally, finally found you once more, he wasn't going to leave. Even if it meant having to make you fall in love with him all over again. In fact, Five Hargreeves would dedicate his entire lives to making you fall in love with him all over again in every reality there is. He would have as many times as necessary a first dance with you.

He didn't realize it, but his lips lifted in a smile. In a snap of fingers, everything reached a apex, higher than the buildings, higher even to the clouds. All the problems evaporated like mist in the sun, and being in a parallel reality, with a father that wasn't his, in a house that wasn't the one he grew up in, seemed to be extremely insignificant.

For the first time in a long time, Five Hargreeves was happy. And nothing would change that.

That's when, amidst all the arguing the Hargreeves and Sparrows were having around, your eyes met his. And for him it was like coming home after an excruciating winter.

You cocked your head slightly to the side, intrigued by the way that man was looking at you so…surrendered. You understood the gravity of the situation, of those strangers breaking into your home and trying to claim everything as theirs. You were also irritated just like your siblings.

But... when you looked at that man… with eyes so green and hair so dark, something inside you caught your breath. A shiver went up your spine. And maybe you were crazy, but you can swear that felt your soul heave a sigh of…relief. A strange, emotional feeling reverberated through your spirit as if…somehow you'd just found what you've spent so long waiting to met again.

It don’t make sense.

As the confrontation unfolded between the two families, you couldn't help but notice that, minute by minute, you found yourself wanting to look at this man more. As if it were never going to be enough, as if the second you turned your head, you were overcome with an insane urge to see more. You should be focused on trying to get those strangers out of your house, not admiring one of them.

But Five realized that. A spark inside him vibrated with hope, and he delighted in being able to relive the feeling of what it was like to be looked at by you again.

But before he or you could even do anything, the physical feud between the two families broke out with astonishing speed, spreading like the plague. Diego, as usual, was the first to go into battle, followed by Luther and Allison.

See, you didn't consider yourself a confrontational person. Your peculiarity was to manipulate the natural elements and, although that made you one of the strongest figures among your siblings, you had a more adventurous spirit than a fighter. There was no such homeric thirst in your blood to be the best, the strongest, the most brutal. Ben said that was the most unattractive thing about you, but Sloane saw this feature with good eyes. Like you, she wasn't much inclined to brutality.

The fight drove you and Five away from each other, separated by rooms, siblings and war. You saw your family appeal to brute aggression very quickly, while, if you're honest, you didn't want to hurt anyone. Is trut that you were irritated by the way they claimed your house as theirs, but you didn't think they were bad people.

Or all this bland resolutions were for the fact that you didn't want to hurt him. Because, in some way you couldn't explain, you knew he wouldn't hurt you.

But that's when Alphonso yelled at you from upstairs. “Y/N! Do fucking something too!”

Everyone was scattered around the house, but you still remained downstairs, in the living room, arranging a way to help without being very aggressive like your siblings were being. You had no intention of killing or seriously injuring them, but you also weren't willing to put up with the scolding your brothers would give you if you continued to be omitte.

So, when one of the strangers came running to get away from something, the tail of his dark overcoat dancing in the air and his black hat toppling along the path, your reaction was to do the one thing that couldn't seem to do any real damage. In a wave of the hand, the windows were shattered by large, sprawling tree roots, that came out of the garden earth like thick snakes and entered the house in a steady stream.

The man gave a high-pitched scream, but his feet were already entwined by the roots and he was knocked to the ground. The roots, which spilled earth over the floor and exhaled a forest smell, wrapped themselves around the man's body up to his chest, with the only purpose of immobilizing him.

You weren't putting force or brutality, and you were sure the roots were just putting considerable pressure on, like a bandage around an injured arm. But the man didn't seem to notice this, because he kept screaming.

The fear should still be clouding his senses, and you revealed the situation. For it wasn't often that someone was wrapped around by giant roots that moved of their own accord. In your place, you would have reacted that way too.

“Hey, hey” you tried to get closer “It's ok, they won't hurt you and…”

But your speech was interrupted by shrill hum, which cut through the air with force and passed like a bullet in front of your face, shaking a few locks of your hair. The speed were frightening, and for a second your heart stopped in your chest. The fright made you take two steps back immediately, but in a matter of seconds any feeling was replaced by a very strong burning in your left cheek. In the same second, a hot liquid began to ooze from your injured skin like water in a current, spreading pain wherever went.

Two seconds that were able to put you face to face with death. Because that attack was not joking.

The bearded man ran to help the one who was lying on the ground, forcing his freedom between the roots that were now weak due to your distraction.

Unlike you, Diego didn't care about the things he had to do to save his family. He was willing to injure, inflict permanent damage, even killing if that was the only way out. He would have a guilty conscience later, but in the heat of the moment, he wouldn't hesitate. Diego did this to the Commission agents hours ago, and he would do this to you if he had to. As sure as the sky was blue, the Sparrows were the enemy. And he was the hero. Thats it. Two polar opposites, destined to face each other into the death.

And that was why he didn't hesitate to attack when he saw Klaus lying on the floor, screaming as if he were being killed. After getting a small taste of the kind of things your powers were capable of doing, it was pretty clear that you were one of the first ones that needed to go down. So Diego didn't hesitate either when he pulled Klaus off the ground, and wielded yet another dagger. Aiming not to hurt, but to kill.

But love could drive even the smartest minds crazy.

Because when the dagger was thrown in the air, a blue flash invaded the scene and a male body enveloped yours, pushing both of you aside in a rough, protective, intense gesture.

Five Hargreeves was on the stair railing, fighting Jayme, when Klaus's screams grab his attention. He didn't have much time to process what he was seeing, but the moment one of Diego's daggers slashed across your cheek, the primal, visceral instinct he'd felt so long ago, with The Handler on The Commission, roared through him like an angry beast. So when another dagger was wielded and thrown into the air, he didn't think twice, didn't hesitate, didn't blink.

Dropping everything behind, Five Hargreeves dove into the blue flash, having you as the only focus in mind.

As soon as the crash of his body with yours caused you both to leave the deadly path, the arms, masculine and wide, wrapped around your back as if he were holding the only anchorage on the high seas in the middle of a storm. His heart was pounding in his chest, and as much that adrenaline, primal instinct and rage were bubbling through his body, he still managed to feel his soul sighing in deep relief when felt your warmth again in his arms.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?"

Diego's angry roar seemed to shake the walls, but didn't stop the obstinate, angry look that swallowed Five's expression.

“Diego…” his voice didn't match the situation the Hargreeves found themselves in. His tone was serious, steady, so calm it was terrifying, like the warning of darkness to the light. “Stay away from her.”

His brother's confused and perplexed look couldn't have been more accentuated. And even Klaus, known for being the least serious about situations, looked completely astonished. Five Hargreeves didn't held you like he was preventing a murder. No. He held you like Cerberus should have held the only person he was ever loyal to.

"You are fucking crazy?!" Diego gestured with his hands “Let go the enemy now!”

The Hargreeves have been through a lot, seen a lot. Many of them being absurd, beyond any rationality or law of physics, moments in which they had to deal with situations that were not possible to be of this world. But nothing, and no one, could have prepared Diego and Klaus for what they heard from Five;

"Never."

The moment was dispersed when Viktor appeared in the room, shaking, hurt, out of his mind. His head fell back in a single gesture, his arms opened up and the fists closed, as white lights began to shoot out from within his eyes and chest.

Five Hargreeves knew what that meant.

He didn't think twice before running to the side, hiding you behind the bar counter and lowering you two bodies to the floor. His body in front of yours, blocking access to the roughest impact in you.

You two had three seconds, three seconds to look into each other's eyes before the flash explodes. And in that three seconds, the only thing that passed in the soul of both of you was the feeling of finally being where should be.

-----------

"They're stupid villains who think they're smart!" Ben was furious in the kitchen, pacing back and forth.

The last few days had passed like this. With Ben angry about the invasion, Ben angry about the fight, Ben angry about Marcus disappearing, Ben angry about... well... he was always angry.

Of all your siblings, he had the worst temper. Fei and Christopher were practically his dogs, going along with all of Ben's stupid plans just because... you really didn't know why they followed him so fervently, but had a theory that it was because they both thought they would have more power when Ben's plans came to fruition.

A hierarchical system that filled the family with toxicity.

On the other hand, there were Jayme and Alphonso. You never really understood the two, but you described them as bullies. A duo who liked the power they had and how they managed to exert it over people.

The only one you could relate to more deeply was Sloane.

"It would have been better if Y/n had made an attack." Alphonso brought your name up in conversation, his gaze full of rancor.

"Fuck off, asshole" It was the only thing you deigned to say, because you didn't have the patience to deal with his comments at the time.

The truth is, since the invasion, you couldn't get him out of your mind.

It was like a drug, an addiction, that had seeped into your blood from the first time you laid eyes on him. There was something there, something you could never explain. He should be the enemy. Your enemy. But…

The way he saved you from the knives, the way his arms wrapped around you. Almost like he already knows how to hold you. How to protect you.

Your heart couldn't slow down whenever your thoughts returned to that man. From the memory of him placing his body in front of you, standing at the forefront of the explosion.

He saved you. Everytime. And there was something that told you he would save you every chance he got.

The truth was…you wanted to see him. Know his name. Talk with him. There was no longer a fiber of your being that saw the situation as your siblingsdid, your body was facing the complete opposite north.

You wanted to touch him, not fight with him.

When time passed, and Luther showed up at the mansion as someone who was kidnapped, you, again, did not see the situation as a beneficial opportunity for your family. But for you.

Suddenly, your entire soul was gripped by a completely unsettling anxiety that made your hands itch, stomach churn, and your legs unable to stay still. Then you were swept by a feeling of deep sadness, as if you'd already experienced what it was like to spend your whole life wanting to see that man and never getting.

There was no more logic, rationality or coherence to what you were feeling, but finding him was as indispensable as breathing.

That's why you volunteered - more like an imposition - that you would be the one to escort Luther home the moment Ben said he could leave.

“It was kind of you to accompany me” The blond man smiled at you, as the two of you walked through the night streets.

"It was nothing." You tried to sound casual, but with every step toward your destination, the more your hands itched, the more your heart was racing, and in a moment, you found yourself picking up the pace to get there faster.

“I have to confess that you were a topic of discussion between my brothers.” Luther laughed, his odd way of bringing up the subject and not mincing words.

But that got your attention. "What do you mean?"

“A-ahem…well…from what I understand, Diego wanted to kill you, but Five stopped him and…”

Five…Five

His name was Five.

Something inside you stirred. An unfamiliar emotion, but one that made a smile rise to yourcheeks.

“Five” you tried to say aloud, and his name just… felt right on your lips.

You went the rest of the way not being able to pay attention to a single syllable Luther was saying. You don't wanted to be rude, but you just… couldn't stop thinking about Five.

“How long before we get there?” you cut off something Luther was saying about Sloane, and the blond eyebrows drawing together in strangeness.

“Actually” he looked at the big hotel in front of him “We already arrived and…”

But you couldn't stop yourself. All of your muscles felt like they had undergone countless electrical discharges, your heart was faster than any living soul has ever been, and your blood was rushing through your veins like marathon runners. You increased your pace considerably, quickly climbing the steps and opening the doors of that building as if you had just walked through the gates of paradise.

You needed to see him.

Luther came up behind you, giving you a suspicious look and walking towards a bar, where the outlines of several people were talking.

-----------

"I returned." Luther's voice brought Five out of his thoughts, and a part of her brain tried to remember the time his brother had left.

And he didn't find any answers.

To his defence, Five's mind had been elsewhere these days. Moments when he rewound in his mind once, twice, three times. Not even the impending new apocalypse knocking on the door seemed to have any effect on Five. To be honest, he… saw no point in trying to save the world this time. Meeting you once was a miracle, but meeting you again, in an entirely different reality and without The Commission making things difficult, seemed like too much of a luxury for him to ignore.

The truth was that in the first attempt to escape the apocalypse he ended up sending the family to different times, with intervals of years between each one. And, deep down, he didn't know if he could handle trying to take you with him to another reality and end up losing you too.

Five had been through this once before. He knew pain too well not to be willing to risk it.

“What is the enemy doing here?!"

Diego's voice snapped Five out of his thoughts, and an electric current shot through his head and reverberated down to his toes. Immediately, without any hesitation, his eyes flew away, finding not just Luther - whit several bags in hand - but you beside him.

You.

Something inside him ignited, his heart raced and, for a moment, the whole world around him fell away.

But just for a moment, because Diego was already getting up from his seat.

“Hey. Hey!” Five teleported away, once again placing the body in front of you . “What the hell do you think you are doing?”

“What would anyone do to the enemy! What are you doing? Defending a stranger again?!"

“She is not a stranger, Diego. Now be quiet in your place before I have to do it for you.”

"She is not?" Klaus and Viktor said in unison

"I'm not?" Your voice, the only one that mattered to him, came from behind his back, quieter than the others but loud enough for him to hear.

Five turned towards you, turning his back on his siblings. Unlike how he looked at Diego, his eyes held all the softness and attention in the world when they met yours. A small smile appeared at the corner of his left mouth, a secret smile, hidden from the world but revealed only to you.

"It's a long story," he admitted, having no idea how to start. How to tell something that even to him don't make sense.

“I came to see you.” you rewarded his honesty with another truth, a gleam crossing his eyes like shooting stars. “I have time to listen.”

A smile blossomed on his lips, and Five was overcome by the purest feeling of happiness. Without saying anything, or giving anyone satisfaction, his hand laced into yours, and he disappeared with you in the blue flash.

-----------

Any sensible, practical, centered woman, would have laughed at what Five had just told you. Anyone who didn't get carried away by matters of the heart and didn't believe that two people, when destined to be together, are helped even by the wind, would have turned around and walked away.

But you weren't a sensible woman, nor practical, much less centered. Your being was composed of romance, adventure and magic. You fervently believed in destiny, soulmates and that some loves are capable of overcoming the barrier of space and time.

What's more, if all that wasn't enough, you also felt, from your soul to your bones, sensations that couldn't be explained. Feelings he was also saying he felt too. You believed in him. And that fact came as soft as the droplets of dew, as the brightness of the moon.

After his account came to end, with him letting himself be vulnerable in telling all the thoughts that ever crossed his mind about you, the urge to say just one thing screamed your blood rumbling. “You’re no the villain in my story” your words hung in the air.

“I am,” Five's voice brimmed with a liquid honesty that was able to chill your bones, but nothing in his words hinted at remorse for the things he'd already done. “But i'll be the villain for you. Not to you. I'll let worlds burn again if it means keeping you alive. In a problematic way, that I'll never be able to explain, I don't feel guilty about doing something if it means your safety.”

Five Hargreeves expected many things. Many different reactions. Many words of contradiction. But never what happened next.

Your mouth, without any hesitation, joined his in a kiss that was capable of making his world explode. His body was ignited by a fire that swallowed even his soul, washing away all his sins and giving a demon a taste of heaven.

So what was it like to kiss a goddess? An angel, a muse.

If before, without even touching your skin without the interference of clothing, Five would have happily accepted going to hell, now, with your hot mouth melting into his like warm honey, he would accept the torture of eternal fire with a smile on his face.

And when the small kiss intensified into something much bigger, his hands, warm and masculine, wrapped possessively around your waist. There was no going back. There was no turning back. Five would keep you for himself in the same selfishness that a villain steals a princess. And there was no hero in the world capable of pulling you away of his clutches.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” He found the last bit of strength to let you know when your hands untied his tie “I could really hurt you.”

But all good intentions evaporated when your eyes, eager and full of desire, blinked at him. There was an addictive sweetness in that look. The way your lashes fluttered against your cheeks, the way your eyes held tinges of delicious submission but hid an incendiary fire behind them.

Fucking damn. He wanted you so badly.

"I don't care." Your breathless whisper invaded the room. But he didn't know if you understood the seriousness of the situation.

“Y/n.” his hands cupped your face. “I spent a lot of time contenting just for the way you looked at me. Spending sleepless nights reliving what it was like to feel the contour of your waist in my hand.” His voice was serious, deep, rough like sand scraping against stone. “Do you have any idea of the things I'm going to do to you now that I can finally, finally, have you?” his pitch lowered a few notes, like a predator talking to its prey.

You didn't know it, but only imagination made yours thighs tighten.

“I can destroy you.” his lips went to the foot of your ear, down to the curve of your neck, inhaling your scent and tasting you. “I can leave your body purple, your breasts bitten, your hips marked by the aggressiveness of mine whenever I enter on you.”

A moan escaped your mouth, fingers tightening on his arms, head lolling to the side.

Oh lord, please he do that.

Five's hands went up to your shoulders, in a touch that became more and more possessive, gluttonous, as if he wanted to swallow you.

“I can spend hours fucking you.” his fingers lowered the straps of your dress, letting the fabric fall unceremoniously to the floor. Five pulled his face away enough to be able to look at your body fully, and a husky growl followed right away. “I can kill you.”

Here, in that moment, Five Hargreeves was giving you one last chance to give up, to make him tame the villain he was and who would destroy you for any other man.

If you slept with Five Hargreeves, you would never stop being his.

"Do it." but you didn't have an ounce of self-preservation in the inner body "please."

You didn't have to beg twice. His hands pulled your legs up, making you place your feet on his hips and hug him with your legs. Your back hit the closed bedroom door as Hargreeves' mouth claimed all it could of his. Twisting your tongue around his, biting and sucking on your bottom lip, he was beginning to mark you as his in a single kiss.

“You have no idea how much I want you.” his confession was more of a hoarse groan, hands fumbling with his belt and lowering the waistband of his pants.

Under other circumstances, he would have sucked you until drive you unconscious, pushing your walls with his fingers until you begged for his cock. But he didn't have the presence of mind to do that now. Not now. Not today. He warned of the consequences of wanting to continue at that moment. But you wanted, you begged, and now he was no longer afraid of being able to fuck you with all the vehemence he needed.

Your moans invaded the room very quickly, your waist, even if limited by the door, moved in his groin, exorcising any common sense and control that Five once had.

He pushed your panties to the side impolitely and entered you in one single, glorious, primal thrust. His cock slid in with extreme ease, being completely soaked by the way your pussy was so slick.

“Oh fucking hell” his growl sent even more waves of pleasure to your uterus, and you pressed your mouth to his neck to keep from screaming.

That's when he withdrew and pushed himself into you. Strong, brute. Hitting until found the bottom of the well. His thrusts began relentlessly, thrusting in and out of you aggressively, possessively, almost animalistic. Five's hands were all over yourbody, fingerprinting every bit of your flesh. The nails digging into your waist when you contracted and squeezed him within your plush walls.

“Fuck. fuck.” his groans mingled with the attrition of the bodies of you two against the door, which sent loud, telltale noises throughout the hotel.

But you would rather die than stop.

His cock suddenly hit a place that made your moans come out too loud. Tears began to pool in the corner of your eyes, and your toes curled.

“Oh do you feel this, baby?” Five teased you, digging himself as deep as possible anatomically and rubbing the tip of his cock there, eliciting sly, desperate cries from you "That's your cervix."

Then he went back to fucking you aggressively, this time pulling his chest away from you and digging his hands hard into the flesh of your hips, pulling you towards him at a intensity that could only be described as animalistic.

This was better than anything he had ever tasted in his life. Better than any sin. Better than any whiskey.

His cock desecrated your pussy like it was the only thing that mattered in the world, pulling thick liquids out of you that enveloped him in pasty white rings. Five Hargreeves would ensure that whenever you thought of any man, your mind was invaded by the way he fucked you.

"I will… I will…" your tearful voice blended with the noise of the door slamming and your bodies bumping into each other.

“Thats right, baby” his mouth covered your “cum for me. cum so I can fill that gluttonous pussy with my cum.”

If the way he thrust in and out of you wasn't enough to make you come, his lines had done the job. You came in a glorious explosion of stars, colors and sensations. Your body contracted with absurd force and relaxed like the best of massages. Your arms went limp around his neck, and you could feel his cock tremble and the hot, thick liquid fill your entire pussy.

The noise of the door stopped, his moans calmed down and now the only thing that could be heard was the heavy breathing in the air.

You thought it was over, until Five climbs a hand to your neck and lets out a broken growl "'You look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat, baby."

His cock moved inside you, moving in and out smoothly, pushing his cum even deeper inside you. Make sure you gobble it all up.

“Did you think we were done, princess?” he chuckled evilly, his lips moving closer until they were inches from yours. "I'm just getting started. I'm going to show you how much I've wanted you this whole fucking time.”

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my-love-of-books · 3 months

Text

A/N: yeah no this is super short and entirely self-indulgent

Pairing: gn!reader x five hargreeves

Summary: reader has a nightmare, and five (their bf) comforts them

That smile. That red-lipsticked smile of The Handler. She taunted me as I watch her smirk. Curious as to why, I trace her gaze to Five. He stands between us, looking back and forth in-between her and I, before walking towards her, and something inside told me that he wasn't coming back. That he was choosing the commission over me. "Five?" I asked "wha- where are you going? What are you doing?"

Once beside her, he turns around, scoffs and smirks, "you didn't think I'd really stay did you? Why would I, being with you is pointless."

My eyes burned, and my throat caved in. "But- but you said-"

"I lie for a living y/n. Damn I knew you weren't smart but I didn't think you were stupid"

It was like the air got sucked out of the room. The handler cackled and everything went black.

My eyes open and I breath with a start; it was a dream. I try to slow my breathing when I feel tears on my face. shit I cried in my sleep. I move to wipe the tears off my face when an arm around my waist tightened. "Baby? You okay?" A tired and angelic voice asks.

Afraid my words will betray me I just respond with an "mhm" and a nod while I wipe away the streaks on my face.

This seems to really wake him up "No your not. What's the matter what's going on?" Five sits up a bit more, leaning over me and caressing my cheek.

"Another nightmare?" He asks softly.

I nod.

"wanna talk about it?" More tears well up in my eyes at the thought of him leaving me for something better. I turn in his arms cling to him, looking for support; he hugs me tight and whispers into my hair "mkay, love. We can talk when you're ready." His heartbeat is soft, but rhythmic, and steady, and he smells like an old forest and the lavender soap they have here.

"please don't leave me," I whimper into his chest "please"

I feel his sharp intake of breath, "never, my love. I would sooner die without you"

#five x y/n #number five #five hargreaves x reader #five hargreeves #Five hurt/comfort #Bf!five #5 #Gn!reader #five x reader fluff #five x reader #five x you #Five x gn!reader #Five x male!reader #i need him #the umbrella academy #tua fluff #tua #tua five

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reverse1999fics · 29 days

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Hallo! I not sure request is open if is not feel free to decline this sorry! If is alright could i request 6 and medicine pocket separately with a shy and timid s/o who worries a lot and hides behind them doesn’t have any friends but likes to just be by their side most of the time and clings to them? Hope you have a nice day!

Woohoo! Back on that grind and cranking out requests!! They are open btw!!

Please forgive me if either of them are a little ooc! I don't have MP and I skipped through the story so I don't entirely know 6's personality all that well!!

Medicine Pocket & 6 w/a Timid/Shy S/O (separate)

Medicine Pocket is someone with a very flamboyant personality, always being able to speak their mind. They never quite understood why or how you could be so timid, but that didn't stop them from loving you all the same.

Their tall physic let off an intimidating aura to those who didn't know them properly, but to you it was a source of comfort. Their height makes it easy for you to hide behind, holding their hand or a part of their coat and trailing behind them like a child would play follow the leader. Of course Medicine Pocket had no issue with this, even taking pride in how safe you'd feel around them and only them.

No matter that you don't have many friends, neither do they due to how... Different they are to others, all they need is to be in your company they say. Others were frustrating and didn't understand what they were trying to say, what they meant, but you did. You always understood their words and actions, so you were the only person they truly wanted to be around.

Clingy? You? Clearly you've never met them because goodness only knows how much they love to be around you. Even if it were you just simply being in the same room as them, they want to be near you. You know them better than anyone else, understand their weird antics and never judge them for how they acted or what they did. That was something they held close to their heart, right next to you, so of course your affection is needed on a daily basis! Sit next to them while they work on projects or go through paperwork, lay your head on their shoulder, read a book on the couch they moved in the room just for you, take a nice nap, sit on their lap, let them sit on your lap! Anything, as long as you were with them.

6 is a person driven to perfection when it comes to his work, someone strict with his rules and follows them all to a T. You, are a slight exception though. Oh how adorable you are to him, holding onto his sash while standing behind him, cowering from the other numbers like a little kitten. He had a soft spot for you, that much was clear to everyone

Being of high status on the island, he was a busy person, usually so busy he comes off as a recluse. But never was he too busy to ignore you even for a moment. Come into his arms after a long day of interacting with people, sit in his lap and rest to regain your social battery while he works on equations and problem solving. Your battery recharges just as much as his does, so let him rest his head on yours for a moment but don't question his closed eyes. He's just letting them rest for a moment.

You need not worry about not having many friends, he wouldn't say he has many either, if any at all. You are his one and only, why pay attention to others when he has you to keep him company? He'd rather stay home with you by his side with a good book of philosophy rather than go out with others. His robes will keep you warm, so snuggle up to his side and read along with him if you do so please.

His personality severely contradicts your own, having a more serious and stern personality that goes against your timid one, but that never stops him from loving you all the same. Should the two of you be away from each other he'll leave a piece of him with you, perhaps something on his person he wears often, or maybe a book he knows you'd like. When he is with you he'll never mind you grabbing a hold of his hand, even when others are around. He finds it adorable how you seem to try and melt into his arm as you hold onto it while others are around and chatting.

#reverse 1999 #r1999 #reverse 1999 x reader #x reader #r1999 x reader #my writing #medicine Pocket #r1999 medicine pocket #6 #r1999 6 #chapter 5 #6 the perfect number #medicine pocket x reader #6 x reader #reverse 1999 medicine pocket #reverse 1999 6

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kaybreezy3000 · 1 month

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Five is your employer and he's not happy with you. As the night unfolds, you have a very unexpected encounter with him...

~Rated somewhere between G and Mature because, like many of my stories, you can easily skip the sexually explicit parts. (see notes)

This story takes place where we left off with season three, but 5 years later. The name is a nod to hints of what might be coming, though I doubt the Netflix writers are going with my little storyline I have created for you.

~This one is sort of gift to all fanfiction readers and writers. May you always keep passwords on our documents and devices, or maybe not... 😂👌

Warnings: Mildly sexual themes in the middle. This does turn sexually explicit in the second half, but you don't need to read that part to enjoy the story and there is a warning when that starts if you aren't into all that stuff.

(8,711 words)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'Hargreeves home for wayward boys'

It was the end of the day and the Hargreeves family had all disappeared. You knew they were somewhere privately hashing things out, but as just a lowly intern working on their project, staying for that to happen was not necessary. They would call you later to give their decision and then you’d submit the order.

Speaking of which, your phone rang with a call from your boss and it distracted you as you were collecting your things. Arms full and not realizing you had forgotten something, you used your backend to bump open the large doors of the Umbrella Academy. The doors clicked closed behind you and you walked out into the refreshingly cool evening air.

Downstairs in the musty kitchen, Allison threw her head back, letting out a tired sigh before saying, “Guys, arguing is getting us nowhere. We need to end this debate. The order needs to be placed today or we won’t have the sign back when the masons are scheduled to be here to install it.”

Viktor set his empty mug on the counter next to a pair of Grace’s discarded rubber dishwashing gloves. “Why don’t we just vote on it?” he proposed, uneasily glancing at Five.

“I say we go with ‘The Hargreeves Home for Wayward Boys,” Diego loudly declared while raising his arm high, to which the rest of the Hargreeves abruptly raised their hands, making it a unanimous vote, if not for Five, sitting forward with his head in his hands and his elbows on the kitchen table as he venomously glared at all of them.

Five locked eyes with Luther. “Really?” he snapped.

His brother nervously smiled. “Ah… Sorry. I changed my mind, buddy.”

“Don’t call me buddy.” Five angrily shook his head. “You changed your mind, huh? Sorry to inform you but clearly this one doesn’t work any better!”

Not getting Five’s belittling joke, Luther looked to Ben who silently rolled his eyes for about the hundredth time in the last hour.

“And you,” Five roared, pointing his finger at him. “You had shown signs of intelligence but now I have my doubts. Maybe if you keep rolling your eyes like that you might find evidence of a brain up there. This name doesn’t even make any sense! We aren’t just admitting boys!”

“Sure it does,” Lila disagreed. “You’re the only one who doesn’t think so but that’s because it’s very hard for children to think clearly when they haven’t had their nap. Should we call Grace to fetch your blankie and to make your bottle so you can go to bed early?”

Five balled his hand into fists under the table. “You should use glue instead of Chapstick. I hear it does wonders for making you more tolerable to be around,” he childishly shot back to which Lila merely laughed at him. “So, this is it…nobody else thinks that name sounds awful?” he hissed at anyone still looking at him.

Getting up with a loud squeal of his wooden chair leg on the cracked linoleum flooring, Klaus patted Five on the upper back, but his brother jerked away from the gesture. “Oh, come on, Five,” he said followed by an airy laugh. “It’s perfect. Even that cute intern upstairs thought so. After we gave her the low down dirty-dirty on our real family history, she’s the one that came up with it.”

Five scowled even more.

“Ahhh,” Diego obliviously sighed. “Things are finally coming together with this project and I’m feeling a Hargreeves style celebration coming on.” He draped his arm around the back of Lila’s chair looking at her, but she was too busy smirking at Five’s increasingly animated display of sour expressions.

“Let’s all go out!” Klaus excitedly added. “I know a great place for karaoke.” Five got up, slinging his suit coat over his shoulder as he started to walk away but Klaus snatched his arm. “Hold it! You’re coming with us.”

Five swifty swatted his hand away, distastefully brushing his brother’s invisible fingerprints from the crisp sleeve of his white dress shirt. “I’d rather shove a pinecone up my ass and let it sit in there until it dissolved than have to be in the presence of all of you for even five more minutes,” he smoothly retorted while flipping up his cuff to check the time.

Klaus’s bright eyes grew wide with glee. “If you are looking for things to shove up your ass, I can think of way more painfully pleasant options. Come on, let me tell you all about it while we decide where we are going to eat.”

Skirting around the table, Five dodged Klaus before he could put an arm around him to drag him in with the rest of the group who were now talking about dinner plans and the epic songs they were going to belt out later.

After breaking away and muttering under his breath that they were all a bunch of idiots, Five slowly wandered up the stairs. With his fists firmly jammed in his pockets and his shoulders inclined forward, his gaze remained empty though his thoughts were anything but.

After making numerous other suggestions, they had all disregarded his concerns, just like they always did. Whether it was trying to help them avoid apocalyptic ends or simply being somewhere at a specific time to save their own asses, he never could win in this family.

Five cringed as he thought about the name they wanted to use and what it was really referring to.

He was the embodiment of the wayward boy in his family’s less than glorious story. Worst yet, the nod to Homer’s Odyssey, being that it was a narrative Reginald had forced them to remember by heart, was just one of the millions of reasons why, in his head, this was a horrible choice.

That man was an evil incarnate, and Five may have for a time wanted his love and acceptance or even in the very least, his recognition, but he never got them. They’d been used and dumped in a new world without their powers, but at least they had been left with their identities and their childhood home, but those days of bowing to that vile alien parading around as a man were long gone. Five did not want to be associated in any way with Reginald Hargreeves and that title for their new foundation did just that.

“How could they not see that?” he asked himself, trying to work through all this but coming up with nothing other than they were morons. “The last name Hargreeves was already on half the buildings in the city!” he shouted to no one, his voice getting eaten up in the long corridor as his dress shoes stomped along the black and white tiled floor.

As Five watched his siblings raise their hands in favor of the symbolic title, he felt even more set apart from them than he ever had. That feeling wasn’t anything new, and there were many reasons for it, but today, he’d had enough of them not listening to him and he wasn’t about to let this one go until he’d tried one more avenue of attack.

Tromping through the foyer, thinking he’d see you or the lead designer, Five glanced inside the formal dining room but neither of you were there. Looking over the stacks of blueprints on the table, Five spotted your laptop. It was lying among the other items strewn in the large mess but your coat and bag that had been hanging on the back of the chair were gone. Thinking you must have forgotten it and that you had gone for the day, he picked up the streamlined electronic device and carried it with him out of the room.

He’d been dying to lay into you for convincing his family that this asinine idea was the way to go. Sadly, since you weren’t there, that would have to wait and that left him in no better mood, but as he carried your laptop down the hall, he was quickly developing a new plan.

Thinking of you, Five could just see you looking at him like you always did-cautiously but kindly.

You were always professional and extra nice to him in your interactions, despite him being dismissively rude at times. You’d laugh off his detached behavior and truthfully, he didn’t mind the sound of it, or your sweet smiles, or how your legs looked under your many short skirts and smart little slingback heels. He’d never let himself do more than appreciate the view when you weren’t looking, and he’d thought you were about as harmless as a chipmunk marinated in fertilizer that was walking sideways.

He was wrong on that, and worse yet, he simply didn’t get you and Five did not like when he didn’t understand things.

His lips pulled to the side as he noted your almost unnatural ability to remain persistently positive when working with a bunch of ridiculous assholes. Looking past some of your more appealing qualities, he quickly concluded that you were about as stupid and fake as fake could get.

You had stepped on the wrong man’s toes and this meant war.

With steam practically billowing out his ears over how mad he was at you, Five became absorbed in the thought of pissing some of his own mocking sunshine into your Clever Crisp cereal and he knew just the way to do it and get rid of you.

“Perfect fucking idea my ass,” he said through clenched teeth as his diabolical grin spread.

Five opened Reginald’s old office door and flopped down at the large mahogany desk. Flipping the laptop open, he flexed his fingers, his eyes roaming over the keys as the screen came to life.

They could call the design team and tell them the decision was made, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t do something about it and make it look like you were the one that fucked things up, which as an added bonus that would probably get you fired.

If the very expensive stone signage they were ordering came and didn’t say what his family had wanted it to say, at that point, you’d be in deep shit, and he’d simply look the other way feigning innocence. He’d argue that at that point it was an issue of money and managing their extremely tight budget, so, to be sensible, they should just go with it as is-which would be his title of choice.

To Five, this was a win-win. Nosy intern fired, and no more demeaning name that was a reference to him hanging above the academy’s front door.

It was a simple matter of typing in his idea in the order form, and sitting in front of him was the means to do it. Call or no call, he’d send this in first. The work would get started and it would be too late.

Five was no hacker but over the last few years of being holed up at the Umbrella Academy due to having to live the life of a shut-in teenager again, he’d learned a thing or two about modern tech. With a few clicks, he was into your files.

“Where is it?” he hummed as his eyes ran over the images of little manila folders. There were tons of them and the way you had them labeled was not helping.

Clicking on one that appeared to have image files attached to it had seemed logical since he was looking for a mockup of the graphic design they’d be using going forward for all their letterhead and signage.

“Shit,” Five scoffed as he saw tiny blips of hundreds of your personal photos. These had nothing to do with what he needed and that also meant this computer was not just something you used for work. He was just about to close the file since it was obviously personal in nature but then an image of you when you were slightly younger caught his eye.

Your cheeks were a little bit rounder and your hair a little longer. When he clicked on the next shot and it was one where you were on some kind of vacation and you were wearing a swimsuit, he leaned forward.

He stared at the picture, suddenly intrigued. Opening more pictures, Five realized that same bright smile of yours never faltered in any one of the shots.

It had never crossed his mind that he’d see anything personal while he was digging through your computer, but here it all was and all he had to do was open the files because you foolishly didn’t password protect them.

Driven by curiosity and with nothing else to do for the night, Five dug deeper into your world. He found files with old college assignments which he skimmed over with only moderate interest. Then, clicking on a folder that seemed harmlessly titled, he found himself completely distracted, all at once, totally forgetting what he’d been searching for.

Five scooched even closer to the screen.

The first file he opened was relatively small and he read through it quickly. It was written like some sort of story, or more like part of one. It was about a man that found himself in a version of his body that was much younger looking than he should be. Miraculously he had been through hell and back, and mentally he was much older than he looked, but outwardly he didn’t look any older than his physical age of eighteen. The details of how this all came to be weren’t in this part of her story, but Five immediately recognized the familiarity of the storyline, and he instantly started plowing through the other files in that folder in a sudden need to know what else you’d written.

The files were like snippets of a larger story, not yet fully written or interconnected the way a novel would be, but all of them involved the same two characters, and the scenes were incredibly familiar but also not. Changes to how they actually occurred in real life were subtle enough to make what he was reading fiction, but the similarities were what agitated him and had his defenses on high alert. Even more than that, the male character in your writings was a perfect description of him in all but his name, and the female, though barely described, very much resembled you.

The story laid out that the male character was the infamously lost son of a very wealthy man whose influence held the entire world by the throat. After appearing out of the blue on the doorstep of his family home after years of being missing, this boy chose to keep to himself but that didn’t mean people weren’t aware he was back.

He intentionally carried himself apart from all others, always dressed impeccably, with his dark hair neatly smoothed to one side. He was cold and calculating and always moved with intent, brooding in his mannerisms, but the female in the story also described him as so breathtakingly handsome when he thought no one was looking and he dared to crack a smile.

“She thinks I’m handsome…?” Five breathed as he read on.

The female narrator went on to say, ‘It turned out, that he could storm around the near empty academy all day if he wanted, or even call the president and claim that he was now a 59-year-old man, but sadly that didn’t mean a thing if you had no proof and you looked like a murderously feral kid parading around in your fancy big boy clothes.’

Five’s stomach dropped through the floor. There was no way this wasn’t about him, and you weren't even trying to hide it!

Talking to a character that was said to be one of this tragic figure’s brother’s, the female in the story was told that the boy had no other choice but to abide by laws of normal men unless he wanted to risk the state forcing him into the foster system or worse. All this left him with little choice and a very bad taste in his mouth and he’d been lashing out for years with vengeance about it, ironically acting just like the temperamental teenager he appeared to be..

By the time the woman in the story had come to work for him, years had passed and this character was technically not a kid anymore. Again, because he was too proud to move in with any of his siblings, he’d served his time living behind the walls of the academy his family owned, but those difficult days were no more. It was time to move on, but the female character could see that for all her employer’s outward confidence, the man inside the boy wasn’t sure how to do that.

He still hadn’t found his place in the world. He lived in limbo, completely alone, other than the presence of a robot housekeeper that he called Grace and his siblings still called mom.

He went out but did not act as someone would who was his outward age, yet it wasn’t really his fault because he couldn’t partake in what those his real age did. He dressed like a man on a mission though he had no reason to anymore. Three-piece suits on a teenager and his smug expressions and even more caustically biting words weren’t gaining him any friends on his daily outings or within the tight circle of those he trusted and called family.

The female narrator said, outwardly, he was one thing, but inside, he felt like a joke.

His sharp green eyes spoke of his true age and the trauma of the life he’d lived, but he kept himself in check most of the time, never letting his guard down or letting anyone in for fear that they would see how much he suffered and still does.

Despite his cruelties to even her, the female protagonist said she saw right through him and under all of it was some very special. She said he was worthy of so much more than he was letting himself have.

“What the fuck? What the hell does she mean by special and worthy of more? My life is just fine!” Five fumed.

Five wasn’t just furious about this, he was confused. It didn’t seem like you were trying to actually write a book since none of this it was in any form of order, but he was stumped as to why else you’d be writing such things other than to exploit him somehow and make money by trying to sell some bullshit tell-all story about his fucked-up life.

He shook with fury, his knuckles white as he clenched the wooden armrests on Reginald’s old high back chair.

You had called him out but did so safely from his pretend female’s perspective.

You said this male’s lack of interest in others was just a way to hide how vulnerable and lonely he truly felt!

You said that all his arrogance and cocky remarks were nothing more than a sign that he was desperate for love that he’d never been given, and now didn’t know how to reach for.

You said you felt bad for him!

“I don’t need her fucking sympathy!” Five seethed as he angrily clicked on another much longer file in your writing folder.

Right off, he could tell this one was much different than the others he’d read about your daily exchanges in this fictional yet not fictional narrative you’d been writing about him.

It was set in the same work setting, set in the large manor that the deceptively young male lived. The characters were in a richly decorated office, with dark paneled walls and low light filtering in from the setting sun bleeding through the stained-glass windowpanes. You didn’t need to say this was once this man’s notoriously cruel father’s office for Five to know you were trying to describe the room he was sitting in right now.

The male was sitting in the regal looking chair behind the desk, smug as ever as he stared at the girl. His cool, calculating eyes devoured the entire length of her legs while he slowly but deliberately pushed them apart at the knees, spreading them wide as she submissively sat on the desk in front of him.

Five’s breath hitched as that line and the images described in it played over and over in his head like a naughty ping pong ball.

That saucy passage was Five’s first indication that this story was not like the others and that what he was about to read was not going to be at all like what he’d read so far.

This had turned into some kind of fictional love affair.

Itching heat started to crawl up Five’s neck once he reached the third paragraph and the first lines of dialogue were laid out with perfect effect.

With this male shamelessly observing that under her skirt, the girl was not wearing any panties, she grinned and playfully purred, “You can have me any way you want…”

From there, the two characters proceeded to take things to a place between them that Five had never considered until it was literally being spelled out for him.

As Five read on, parts of him were waking up that had nothing to do with his anger concerning you. The document he was reading was essentially like taking a very seductive trip inside your mind and maybe even more surprising, seeing something that was inside his. It was a firsthand description of how you really saw him, what you wanted from him, and maybe even more scandalously what you wanted to do to him.

Five was not familiar with this kind of writing and the only way he could describe it was explicit, with the descriptions of what was going on being detailed enough that he read the words with a slightly gapped mouth and a rapidly quickening pulse.

The previous files he’d read had focused on emotional and psychological themes, making the barefaced sexual purpose of this one all that much more of a shock. He had no idea you were attracted to him and found his appearance and flippantly dickish behavior so appealing.

If he’d thought you made no sense before, but now he was beyond baffled by you.

As the scene he read moved past him pleasuring you, on to your character kneeling down on the floor between his legs as he confidently opened his pants and he told you to get to work, Five took in a long, deep breath. He reactively moved his hand over the heat between his legs, his palm pressing down the hard length beginning to make itself known under the tightening stretch of fabric covering him.

In spite of his flawlessly pale skin, Five was typically not the type to blush, but by the time he was done reading your story, he felt like his face was on fire and his body was going to spontaneously combust. Unable to stop himself, Five began to more intently rub the aroused flesh hidden under the wool of his pants.

He started reading the story again, and he was so taken by it all that he didn’t hear you walking down the hall.

“Oh, there it is,” you said as you walked in and saw the back of your laptop sitting in front of the last person you had figured you see with it. To make it more bizarre, you didn’t remember leaving it in there and Five was looking at it with the most intense expression you’d ever seen grace his sharply expressive features.

With worry hitting you with the unforgiving force of a tanker truck, you rushed around the large piece of furniture separating you to see what had captured his attention so fully that he only just now looked up at you, finally registering that you were there.

With his hands flying up from his lap, Five tried to clear the screen.

Seeing the title to your very, very naughty story about him on the autosave line, you shrieked out a plethora of swear words, some which you just made up on the fly. Five was sure to have never heard some of your more imaginative curses prior to that moment, but you were pretty sure their meaning was not lost on him based on how he was backing away from you.

You slammed the laptop closed. Then you covered your face with your hands and started pacing as you incoherently mumbled.

Through the cracks between your fingers, you could see that Five was clearly stunned by what had just transpired. He looked like his brain had stopped working, which was impressive since he was a proven genius.

Great. You broke the poor man and all it took was literarily getting your fuck on with him!

Then, instead of flipping out, to your surprise, Five said your name. It came out so soft and unsure and nothing like the way he normally spoke to you. It was the first time he’d ever acknowledged that he knew your name. You had thought that to him, you were just another nameless person they’d hired.

Hearing it, you dropped your hands, revealing a face so red that it only made your body’s less than desirable response accelerate even more, and then you got redder.

Not sure what to say, your next words burst from your mouth. “You must think I am a perverted weirdo! I swear I am not… It’s just…a silly hobby. I- I write things to get them out of my head and I always delete them. I wasn’t going to-"

You didn’t know how to explain yourself, so you squeezed your eyes shut rather than take another second of him sitting there, still as a statue, still staring at you in what you could only guess was horror.

If you weren’t sure that Five was gearing up to bite your head off and report you to the police, you’d almost think his own red-faced expression of distress was cute, but that was only if you didn’t know better. Under his boyish charm, there was a very dangerous man that was about to spring to life. That person had no interest or reason to show someone who’d invaded his privacy any mercy.

Trying to save your ass, you sputtered, “I never write stuff like that, it’s just… Shit. This is basically my worst nightmare. I am so sorry.” You let out a broken sounding moan. You turned around, burying your face in your hands again. “Don’t worry, I am going. I will submit my resignation right away and I will delete that right now.”

Starting to cry, you moved to do just that but Five scared the hell out of you when he snatched your hand away and didn’t let go.

His eyes narrowed and your heart nearly leapt out of your chest. You tried yanking your hand back, but he held fast. “Stop!” he ordered, and you did, sort of. Your entire body trembled as you uselessly pulled, trying to get away. Reeling you back in to face him, Five calmly said, “You better not quit.”

What?

Had you heard him right?

God, he was close. You could feel the heat from his body and the warmth of his breath hitting your lips.

“Please stop crying,” he whispered.

You shook your head.

Undeterred by your inability to speak or to stop your sniffles, Five moved his hand to your waist and his penetrating eyes bore into yours making it impossible to look away. “That little story there…”

He stopped speaking. Suddenly looking flustered he ran his hand back through his hair, rumpling it in the most adorable way.

“You haven’t asked me what I thought about your writing?” he taunted, his voice so low and threatening sounding that you weren’t sure why your feet weren’t moving so you could high-tail it out of there.

Your reply came out as anxious sounding as you felt. “I don’t need to ask. I can tell by the way you are looking at me that you think I am nuts, and you hate me.”

Five drew in a deep breath, his eyes floating to the ceiling for a moment before he held your eye again and countered, “Well, if you think that, then you are right about the other things you wrote about me. I am a complete asshole and treat people like shit, but that is not my intent right now, despite my past and what my face says. You were very accurate and astute when it comes to nailing down who I really am, but perhaps when it comes to how I really feel about all this, and you, you shouldn’t be looking at my face.”

Before you could ask him what he meant by that, Five slid his arm around your waist, pulling your hips flush with his, and that forceful maneuver made it very clear what he thought about what you wrote.

Wiping your eyes as your heart raced, you muttered a very unintelligent sounding, “Oh.”

Five’s excruciatingly soft looking lips pulled up on one side, the look of it matching what you only now recognized in the sparking emerald of his shining eyes. There was a menacing level of mischief in him that was all the more strengthened by his burning arousal.

Confidently taking you by the wrist, Five led you back to the desk. Pressing you back against the unforgiving wood surface, directly between him and his chair as he said, “I am sorry I have been so…” His smile widened and you felt like you could melt from the sheer sight of his dimple deepening. “I have been so blind. You are right about everything you said about me.”

Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you tried not to lose it over the way he was looking at you or the feel of his long fingers trailing up your thighs, not stopping until they were hidden just under the hem of your skirt where he let them settle.

Not sure what was happening, you shakily asked, “How much did you read?”

“All of it. Twice,” he blew across your lips as his teasingly hovered so close it was making you dizzy. “You shouldn’t be embarrassed. Your writing is very good,” Five added as he flipped your hair aside and his mouth brushed with featherlight gentleness against your neck, making spiraling fireworks of tingles run up and down your spine.

You shut your eyes, feeling like you were having an outer body experience as Five placed tender but persistently more certain kisses along your throat and the shell of your ear. “You’re not mad?” you quietly asked, lost in his extremely loving touches.

Five’s fingers came up, moving a strand of hair from your forehead before those same fingertips tickled across your cheek then gripped your chin, forcing your face up next to his.

Your droopy eyes reactively flipped open.

“No. I am not mad,” he quietly responded, the comforting green of his eyes all but overtaken with the darkness of his growing lust. “I was mad at first and not just because you like to write stories about me. At first, I was hell bent on ending you for interfering in matters that don’t concern you. Pushing my family to choose such an inadequate name for our foundation was your crime and I was going to make you pay, but I see all that a little differently now. Funny how hearing a little truth done in the right way can make a very old, yet forever young fool see the light,” he finished with a chuckle that sounded so unbelievably charming coming from such a normally serious person.

“You don’t like the name, and you wanted to end me? That’s why you stole my laptop?”

Five laughed again. “Thanks to you, the name might be growing on me.” Ignoring your other questions he somewhat less assuredly said, “Is it true what you said about me… That part you wrote about how in the face of how much I lost, the fact that I never stopped fighting to change things for the better was the most admirable and important quality a person could have?”

“Yes. Of course I meant it. You’re an example of what it means to be strong and not give up and that’s what these kids need, and that is why I suggested that name after hearing your brother Klaus ramble on for hours about your life and how wonderful you are. You are someone they can look up to and that name seemed like it spoke of the trials yet also many triumphs of your amazing life.” Seeing Five’s face light up and feeling brave, you cautiously added, “From what I hear, we are all lucky you never gave up and aren’t lost anymore. If not for you, there wouldn’t be a world left. We owe our life to you.”

Five looked down at the minimal space between you, his dark lashes fanning his beautifully flushed cheeks.

“That’s not necessarily true, and in many ways, I am still lost,” he admitted. “You were right, I push people away. I lack basic social skills and I have been way too much of an arrogant prick to own that, and for it, I am alone.” His smoldering eyes flipped back up. “But I don’t want that. I want someone that sees me the way you do and isn’t scared of who I really am.”

The slightest tic as his jaw tensed was the only sign that Five wasn’t as sure of himself as he appeared.

“Are you scared of me?” he provocatively lured, almost as if he were baiting you.

You croaked back a very embarrassing sounding, “No.”

Looking like he loved that, Five excitedly asked, “Good, then will you let me show you how sorry I am for being a dick, and how much I appreciate you making me see all this in a new way? You are right. Nothing sticks it to my old man like making this place in name and purpose into something about giving people less fortunate a second chance. That is not what he’s about and using his name and things he knows are a jab at him is a perfect fuck you.”

That smile of Five’s that could explode a girl’s lady bits came out to play again and with it his hand ran down your back, gripping you by hard on the ass.

“Since you seemed to like the idea of it, and you haven’t kicked me in the balls yet, will you give me a chance to make your fiction come to life?” he courteously questioned, though none of this conversation had anything to do with any form of normal social decorum.

As his words hit home, Five quirked a dark brow at you, and again, ever so subtly, he let you get a feel of his desire as he trapped your body between his and the desk.

“What I lack in experience, I tend to make up with determination and my ability to quickly learn even the most complex concepts and tasks,” he added hopefully.

Squirming a little, your eyes flit over the contours of Five’s face as you tried to imagine the older man that he really was, but like usual, you could only nail that part of him down in the unnaturally assured way he held himself. Like it had from the first time you laid eyes on him, the paradox that was Five Hargreeves only made you want him more.

“I could let you do that…” you flirtatiously dangled, “as long as you aren’t planning on ending me still. Being all scary like you are is hot and all, but the threats against my life and livelihood are sort of a lady boner kill.”

Letting out another laugh that you could hardly believe you were hearing coming from him, Five nodded. “You aren’t going anywhere, sweetheart. Not until I give us both a happy ending and I don’t mean that kind of ending,” he growled just before his lips crashed against yours and his hand moved behind your neck, locking you to him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

⚠️This concludes the PG 13 ending option. Go on if you want the explicit ending option.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Five’s kiss took your breath away. His tongue pushed inside your mouth as he searched for more.

His kiss was perfectly unpracticed, warm and innocent.

The feel of him letting himself go in this way had you securing your legs around his backside, encouraging him to take even more, which he did, urging your bottom up onto the desk where he held you on the edge.

The protrusion of Five’s erect cock jabbed into your abdomen as he thrust himself against you as if he was already fucking you. “Fuck, I fucking want you,” he wetly gasped as he let your mouth go, only to assault your neck and then your collarbone with nips and needy kisses that were sure to leave their mark.

With his sucking and well timed bites, he was hitting all your most sensitive spots, and you knew without asking that he’d learned just what to do to drive you wild from what he’d just read. As your head dropped back and your eyes closed, you couldn’t believe that a story that was never meant for his eyes had accidentally stoked this passion in him and had now come to this.

Feeling his hand moving higher under your skirt, you let out a huffy little moan, followed by a whining sound. With a smile, Five looked up, looking first at your puffy lips and then your glossy eyes as if something had just occurred to him.

As you were trying to figure out why he’d stopped, he leaned into your ear, softly speaking something in another language. “Sei così bella. Voglio conoscere ogni parte di te ed essere tutto ciò che pensi che io sia..” (You are so beautiful. I want to know every part of you and be all the things you think I am.)

As Five moved along, kissing your jaw, you didn’t even get to ask what he’d said before his fingers were dropping down over your underwear.

“Well, well, well…” he tutted. “You aren’t supposed to be wearing these.” With that, Five remedied that deviation from your story, flipping your legs together and then tugging your panties down so he could stuff them in his back pocket.

His lips brushed yours and you trembled from that as well as the sensation of his fingers coming at you back and forth. They were gliding between your folds as he gauged your reactions to his explorations with a look of devoted persistence that proved he wasn’t kidding when he said he was all about learning the best way to please you.

Soon Five had you making sounds that were somewhere between pathetic whimpers and pleas for more. Then with no warning, he pushed two fingers inside you, and half mad, your mind spiraled into chaos ad he crooked the digits upwards. He worked them in and out with an intensity that was bordering on too much and your body spasmed around him, your legs at his backside clenching him tighter before going limp as you cried out his name.

Five smiled with satisfaction, pulling back just a little to watch your chest heaving and your body writhe.

“That’s it, honey, only next time I want the entire city to know I am fucking you,” he smugly informed before diving back in to kiss you again, all the while his long fingers never stopped dragging out every last tremor of your release.

Even in your state of bliss you could tell that Five was trying and failing to one-handedly undo his belt. Softly pushing him back, you weren’t sure he was going to relent but when he did, he looked humorously desperate.

“Wait you breathed. You can have me as many times as you want and in any way you want, but first there’s something I’ve been dying to do to you.”

That perked Five’s attention.

You pulled your lip between your teeth for only a moment before you pounced on him, your humiliation from earlier now nothing more than an afterthought as you pushed Five back and down into his chair. His vest buttons were your first target, and you relished the feeling of Five straining as you took control and your hands worked, unpackaging him.

Next, the shiny little buttons on his dress shirt popped open, one-by-one.

Once done, you ran your hands across Five’s exposed upper body, loving how firm and smooth his skin was. The contours of his leanly defined abs made him look like some kind of sex God. The very fine trail of dark hair leading from his belly button down, along with the ‘V’ shaped arrow of his muscle leading into his pants, were a sight to behold on their own but they were also drawing your attention to another intriguing a part of him that you could already tell was plenty more than average sized.

Not one to be outdone, while you were checking him out, Five suddenly reached up and ripped your blouse open, making it your second clothing casualty if you counted your underpants that he’d stolen.

His voice was barely more than a whisper but this time you were pretty sure you knew what the single word he spoke meant.

“Perfetta.” (Perfect.)

As your mouth moved to his, he shot forward to meet you, but Five was still mostly letting you have your way with him as you finished undoing his pants and pulled them open so you could fish him out of the thin cotton restraining him.

“My turn,” you warned before coming back to Five’s awaiting mouth, your kiss muffling his groan as your hand pumped his hard length, testing him and finding him deliciously responsive and dripping with pre-cum.

You saw a tinge of madness in his gaze as your thumb circled, teasing the slit of skin and the ridge surrounding the underside of his tip. Your adoring kisses moved down his neck, cherishing every curve and dip of his flesh as he swallowed down what you could only assume was how much he wanted to move this along.

One more kiss, your tongue tracing along his teeth before you sucked at his bottom lip and another spark of need had him pushing down on the armrests so he could better rock his shaft up into your hand even more than he already was.

Five’s thoughts came out in a rush of disjointed words. “Plea- Please. Oh, fuck yes,” he grunted and gasped.

His chocolatey brown hair fell in his eyes, but it didn’t matter because they were closed so beautifully in his state of total surrender.

“I have waited so long to have this,” he groaned as you jerked him harder and faster.

“And you’ve waited long enough,” you whispered against his lips before slipping lower, kissing his jaw and quivering stomach muscles along the way as you moved down between his legs.

As your mouth found him, you could only hope that Five felt truly young and free as he looked. You meant it in your story when you said that he deserved this and so much more.

You took him in, letting him push down your throat until it was too much, but even then you fought to hold your mouth around him, encasing his throbbing cock with hollowed cheeks and the flat of your tongue.

You knew you’d given him some form of peace when he anxiously reached back, tugging at his own hair. A warmth started filling your mouth, not stopping as you swallowed the flood of his seed down. His eyes sprung wide, and his mouth dropped open, a guttural sound flying from his lips as his head fell back helplessly against the upholstered chair.

You knew right then; you’d never forget that beautiful look on his face or the beautiful sounds he’d made. But more than that, you’d never forget the way Five made you feel when he looked at you.

You weren’t one-hundred percent sure that he had never been with a woman like this, but it had been strongly hinted by his brother that may have been the case. Just the fact that he trusted you to be his first brought a whole new depth to this moment. It was so empowering, it felt like pure energy was running through your veins.

Of all people, Five had chosen you.

Through his soft panting, Five looked all sorts of delirious, slouching in his father’s grand chair, with his clothes askew and his dick in your hand as you gave him a few final licks and proceeded to stretch your jaw and shyly smile up at him. Not about to let the fun end, you crawled up in his lap, letting your legs fall through the armrests at his sides so you were straddling him.

Five’s eyes fluttered open and closed as his hands gripped your hips and he gave you a little bounce on his knees. He smiled so happily and sleepily it made your heart skip a beat. Then he said, “Ready for round two, gorgeous?”

“Are you,” you teased, letting your fingers weave together around the backside of his neck as you leaned back so you could admire him in all his post organism, messy haired glory.

“Not yet, but I will be soon,” Five replied and he clearly meant it too. He was still partially hard, and by the way he had just started rubbing your tits and looked totally enthralled with how they were hardening for him, you were pretty sure that with a little more educational exploration of your body it wouldn’t take him long to be ready to go again.

“Five,” you breathed as he plucked and teased your nipples.

“Hmmm,” he sweetly hummed as his mouth found one, sucking on it with increasing pressure until you squeaked, so he resorted again to softly groping and nipping instead.

“What did you say to me before?” you questioned while still recovering from that.

“I asked you to go on a date with me after we finish this little reenactment of yours,” he replied, his words slow and thick. “I need an older woman like you to show me the way of the world and keep me in line and nothing would make me happier than to take you to dinner tonight and tomorrow night and...”

Oh my God.

Gone was the jerk you’d been walking on pins and needles around, and here was a man pouring out his heart to you though you hardly knew each other. To add to your dismay, you could tell he at least partially was lying. There’s no way Five had said all of that while glammering you with his ability to speak in seductive sounding languages. His arrogant little smirk as he lied only added to his power over you, yet you found that all you wanted was to kiss it right off his pretty lying face.

“Well, is it a plan? Will you go on a date with me?” he pushed, while also pushing his hardening shaft into the hand that you had been using to leisurely stroke him.

You laughed at the absurdity of the situation you’d gotten yourself into. The age differences you were dealing with were complicated to say the least, not to mention that you’d already messed up how normal people went about starting this kind of thing.

Doing your best pouty face, you pretended to be offended. “I am not older than you. Not really”

“No, you are not,” he agreed then frowned too and just like that, you wanted to do anything in your power to make him smile again.

Leaning in, you gave Five the softest, most chaste kiss you could.

“I take that as a yes to both aforementioned questions,” he mumbled, not even breaking your kiss as his arms fastened around you and he started lifting you both out of the chair.

Not stopping, in a matter of seconds, Five had you repositioned on top of the desk with his body lined up between your legs.

With his dick in hand, Five didn’t look at all embarrassed as he jerked himself off as he patiently waited for your answer.

This man had said he wasn’t going to end you but right then you knew he was ruin you for anyone else.

“Yes to both,” you frantically gulped, to which Five instantly started swiping his cockhead across your slicked wet entrance.

“Ohhh, fuu-ah-auck!” he moaned as he sank forward and your body stretched and clenched around him with each slow dip inside you that he took.

Biting down your own much higher pitched curse, your fingernails went up under his shirt, stripping it and his vest off.

As Five’s entire length disappeared all the way inside you your body folded around him.

You saw stars and Five also looked perfectly shattered by what he must have been feeling and seeing.

Clinging to him, your fingers dug into his back and he carefully began to roll his hips, fucking you deeply at first, only switching to full and more abrupt thrusts the more your body accepted him.

It was as things were starting to really get moving that Luther walked in.

“Hey, Five?” he started to question before he saw you and what Five was doing to you and then let out a very startled sounding, “Oh SHIT!”

You were already trying to cover breasts but Five didn’t seem concerned about it at all. With hardly a look up over your shoulder, with his cock still slamming into your cunt as he bucked his strong hips, hitting you just right, he roughly grunted out, “I. Smell. Something. Burning. Arrr-you trying to think again, Luther?”

Five’s larger than life brother was floundering, the heels of his shoes clumsily moving backwards before he ran into the wall.

“I urrr-umm… I felt bad. I mean, we felt bad,” he frantically rambled. “I was coming back to see if you were feeling any better about the naming thing. We can go with your idea if you really want and…and we were hoping you changed your mind about coming out to the karaoke bar with us and…shit. This is awkward!”

Still using your legs for leverage as he fucked you as hard as he could, looking up with a goofy smile you’d never seen him make as he casually blew his hair out of his face, Five spoke as if nothing was amiss at all. “I love the ‘Hargreeves Home for Wayward Boys’ name. It’s perfect, just like my smart lady right here said it was, but really Luther… No shit this is awkward for you! Get the fuck out. Can’t you see that I’m a little busy?”

As your body started to tense and then fall into quaking vibrations of uncoiling heat all compounded by flaming embarrassment, just then, Ben rounded the corner, letting out a cynical sounding laugh as his hand flew over his mouth then came down slapping his leg instead.

“Come on, big guy. Looks like this isn’t the time for a family chat,” he said, guiding his frozen brother out of the room.

Alone again, you were somewhere between orgasmic bliss and an odd sort of mortification filled with the feeling that nothing really mattered but the man whose head had fallen against your chest as he started to spill inside you while muttering praises that made your heart feel like it might burst.

This was nuts. All of this was. But somehow, it made sense. It was perfect and you couldn’t have written it happening any better.

Somehow, with Five and his crazy family, you knew things would always be unexpected and extraordinary, but you were ready for it. The once broken but not beaten wayward boy was proving he was far from giving up and he didn’t need special powers to make your wildest dreams come true. He just needed to be the person he'd always been.

Thanks for reading, lovies. ❤️

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babblingeccentric · 6 months

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Sanji + gender play (fem reader) for kinktober! Wanna ride him while he's all dolled up in lingerie with a vibrator in his ass 🤤

I didn't quite capture the letter of your request but I think I at least got the spirit. I wrote this in half an hour tipsy on mulled cider and I think I got possessed by the spirit of a novel writer from the 1860s

Kinktober 5: Gender Play, Sanji/Reader

Contains: Sanji's fucked up thoughts on gender, feminization, humiliation, lingerie, cross dressing, hand jobs

The kitchen door is locked, and most have gone to bed. But here on one of the chairs Sanji sits disheveled and full of shame and lust. You’ve removed his tie and jacket a long time ago, and tugged open his shirt and slacks to the soft sweet prize that’s been waiting for you all day beneath stiff wool.

It’s a set of lacy pink underwear, a matching bra and panty set that you bought with Sanji under the pretext of wearing it yourself. So consumed by thoughts of you in lacy bralettes and bikinis spinning through his head Sanji had neglected to notice they didn’t match your measurements (which he had of course memorized, as any good shopping companion should).

The long hours since you had connived him into the set this morning with soft kisses and softer touches had become tortuous, with Sanji hyper aware of the soft lace against his cock, and then comfortably forgetting, before swells of guilt at the thought that he was so little a man he could forget such a humiliation sweeping over him in turns throughout the day.

Finally, finally, you had come flouncing into his kitchen long after the dishes were done, eyes full of mischief to offer relief to him.

And that’s how he had ended up here, eyes tearing as you stood between his legs softly stroking his cock through delicate pink panties until he came and soaked them through as you called him, “Good girl~”

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erenxfrieda · 1 year

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yandere five with a reader who's just as smart as him, but is still really sweet. however, she won't take any of his shit and gets past all of his shenanigans, escaping every he drags her back.

Yandere!Five x Reader

warnings: yandere behaviour, dark themes (obviously), yandere Five, kidnapping, mentions of breaking bones.

a/n: I'm sorry if that's not...what you expected? i dunno why I'm saying this, it's just every time I'm doing requests I have a feeling I didn't do it perfectly? and you probably expected more-

For a man like Number Five, having a potential competitor around is kinda a great danger. For him? Haha! Definitely not, more for you. You see, since childhood, Five has been a pretty...competitive guy. He's faster, smarter, stronger than the ones he grew up with at the Academy when he was much younger.

In fact, meeting the same person who can make Five sweat so well would be very interesting to him. If Five were younger, his reaction would be simple. He wants to be the best, as well as get his dose of praise from Reginald, will simply start spending a day to get ahead of you. He'll work out, he'll solve more math equations, he'll read every book in the house day and night, he'll do anything to say, in the end, “I'll always be better.”

Five, who survived several apocalypses, life in the Commission and other things, will be a little...calmer. Yes, he has a younger body, which means he must have strength. But. Five was tired mentally and physically. His body may allow him to do a few runs around the academy if he really wants to, but the other question is, will he compete with you? No.

I understand that you are probably a little disappointed with this answer, yes? Sorry, but Five is not 13 years old! There may be a part of him that wants to get some praise from Reggie, but for the most part, he just doesn't care. He is an old man. He's 58 years old guys, all he wants to do is drink coffee and read some newspaper while enjoying a legal retirement. Your games do not impress him, play such games with Diego or Ben from Sparrow, and please do not bother him.

And so, we approach the other side, by some miracle Five liked you so much that he now loves you, congratulations! I think some of your sarcasm plus sweet and intelligent behaviour will annoy him a little, but for the most part it will amuse him. You, compared to him, are so inexperienced and cute, you are probably trying to copy him, right? He will rather laugh at your behavior.

But if you really are really incredibly smart, then congratulations, you can even shut him up for a while. Remember how Viktor reminded him of the events of season 2?

You stand next to Five, silently looking at him, then at his older doppelgänger lying on the cold metal surface of the table. A moment, and you noticeably shift your gaze first to the younger, then to the old man, and so on several times. This obviously does not go unnoticed by Five and he, already on the verge of breakdown, turns to you.

„What?” he practically grinds his teeth, trying to keep from sounding rougher.

“Nothing,” you shrug, chuckling softly. “It’s just that if he is you, and you are the creator of the Commission, then it’s a little funny.”

He raises one eyebrow at your words and, moving away from his counterpart, now seems a little interested in your point of view.

“What the hell is funny about that? Can you try to explain yourself, missy?”

“You complained that the suitcases are not bulletproof, but it turns out that this is like your mistake?” you are still smiling. “It's not that I blame you...”

For a moment there is only awkward silence between the two of you. You look at him, he looks at you, only making this conversation more awkward now. He seemed to think about your words and the realization really hit him hard, and his face turns red, more likely from anger, and possibly embarrassment.

“You brat really think it's a good idea to say it right now-”

I think if you have yandere Number Five behind you, who, if you remember, is one of the most dangerous people in the world, then you must be pretty damn smart. You must be much smarter than him, considering the fact that you are a simple person with no abilities. It will be incredibly difficult for you to avoid problems if he wants to have you with him 24/7, since he can literally appear at any moment and move you anywhere and you won’t even have time to blink.

Dealing with a person with teleportation is a 50/50 situation where you may or may not get lucky. Your reaction should be quick and immediate, being able to analyze your situation in a stressful situation, because then the right to make a mistake is a luxury that you cannot afford.

Right now, one of your many attempts to escape from Five, and you can tell exactly how he is not happy about this fact. How many times have you already done this? Five times? Ten? Twenty?! He is tired of constantly pulling you away from leaving the house, you damn annoying him at such moments, and after each such attempt, he often has to change the doors and locks on the windows, because you, by some fucking miracle, manage to break them.

“Can you stop this for one freaking day?” he hisses angrily, wrapping one arm around your neck, pressing you closer to him.

His other hand is on top of your mouth, thereby shutting you up. Just from looking at Five's face, you can see how tired he is. Sweat runs down his forehead and his chest rises up and down incredibly fast.

There is a slight smile on your face and for a moment you froze, looking up at him.

“Oh, I'm really sorry for all the trouble I'm causing you,” you say in your real, sad voice. “And sorry about that too.”

Without giving your kidnapper time to react, you strike him hard in the side with your elbow, causing him to groan in pain and let go of you for a moment. Enough for you to be able to escape from it.

If you are smart and have abilities that can help you, then it will be a little easier for you. Because you can at least protect yourself a little if something happens. But in the end, Five is an experienced killer who has a lot of experience and a mountain of corpses behind his back, so at some point the cat and mouse games will end and you can hardly escape your fate.

“You really made me all so worked up over this little games of yous ,” he admits, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “But in the end, you can’t run away from fate, right, angel?”

“My dear, it's only a matter of time before I can get away from you again,” you chirp happily, your wrists a little sore from how tight the ropes are pressing against your skin, but your whole appearance doesn't show it.

“Then I need to try to take this opportunity away from you forever,” his hand rests on your knee, squeezing lightly. Your breath is held for a moment and you look down, your heart beats stronger in your chest and it seemed that it was about to jump out.

He won't dare to break your legs, will he?

#yandere tua #tua x reader #yandere x reader #five hargreaves x reader #yandere five hargreeves #yandere five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves #umbrella academy x reader #yandere umbrella academy #tua imagine #yandere number five #number five x reader #number 5 #five hargreeves headcanons #number five #five hargreeves x reader

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nostalgia-tblr · 1 month

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"are people not into that?" i ask, after posting my weird niche shit to the internet, despite knowing it to be weird niche shit.

#jsyk sylkius or anything adjacent to it does not “Do Numbers” in any way and i observed this some time ago #i assume that's the “rival ships” element at work but who knows really #that sort of thing is like femslash in that everyone approves of it but nobody actually reads or writes it #but who would have thought sylvie beating loki with a stick would not bring in droves of readers???! shocking twist there!#& i don't consider sifki a rarepair but my rarepair standards are VERY strict like if there's >5 fics a pairing is basically mainstream #chasing popularity would annoy me though & i just don't have the mental spoons to try writing stuff i wouldn't personally read #yeah i *could* put my blorbos to work in a coffee shop but what cost to my own enjoyment levels? AT WHAT COST FANGELA???#you can't please everyone so you may as well just please yourself and if anyone else likes it you've found some fellow freaks so yay #i don't mean please yourself in a wanking sense. though feel free to do that too it probably counts as a cardio workout idk.#BUT ANYWAY #fic related #ps i am v glad there's the “warning: loki” tag because i think/hope it acts as a filter for 'he did nothing wrong in his life ever' types #who are Valid & etc obviously but i write my morally grey characters to be morally grey and the tag might help avoid conflict #though tbh i write almost every character to be morally grey in some way so i can't claim to have left my comfort zone here #(i'm not joking when i say the 1987-89 run of Dr Who shaped my entire future fannish life from a young and apparently v impressionable age)

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mykinkyyandere · 1 year

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AO3

⠀

Five: (About an hour later) So, that's all. Any questions?

Everybody: Yep, enough. Got it.

Klaus: Actually, I couldn't catch the part where-

Five: IT'S LITERALLY SO OBVIOUS, HOW CAN-

You: I didn't get any of this 🥺

Five: (Jumps your side and holds your cheeks) Don't worry, princess. I know that's a lot to take in. I'll help you to understand.

Klaus: Wow... thanks.

#tua #the umbrella academy #fake quotes #incorrect quotes #five #five hargreeves #number five #number 5 #x naive reader #yandere five x reader #yandere number five #yandere five hargreeves #five x you #five x reader #tua incorrect quotes #yandere tua #yandere the umbrella academy #tua x reader #that's a lot to take in

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yanderetheumbrellaacademy · 3 months

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Sweet Dreams Are Made Of These

Summary: Five can't keep from dreaming about you, much to his annoyance Pairings: Five Hargreeves x Fem! Reader Tw: Yandere, Mean! Five, Fluff

Five hasn't been able to sleep lately, because his mind was consumed with thoughts of a woman he didn't like. He'd rather never sleep again than even dream of her for a second. He didn't know why she was taking up his mind; Maybe it was some kind of curse? Yes, she was doing something to him and he didn't like it. No- no, he didn't.

He stared blankly at the ceiling, his mind racing with her. He groaned, gripping his hair, his nails digging into his scalp. He rubs his temple, before stretching his face and sitting up. He rubbed his jaw, his mind wandering back to the subject of his dreams; Which only caused his anger to rise.

He fell onto his bed, his arms stretched out. You were in the next room, so he could easily solve his problem, but he was much to prideful to ever even admit he had any kind of positive feelings for you.

He heard some noises outside of his door and decided to investigate. He peaked out the door to see you standing there. You sighed in relief, as you leaned on his door.

"Thank god you're awake. I can't sleep and I knew you'd probably be awake."

"And why would I want to be with you?"

"When have I ever let your asshole mood stop me from worming into your life?"

"It's one of the many things I hate about you."

"I know that's not true."

You were right, but he would never admit that. Not to himself and never to you.

"I think you just say that to keep up your 'douche-bag, I don't care, loner boy' persona. But, that's not why I came here."

"Oh? I thought you love reading people, even if you're wrong."

"Well, I came to see you, because believe it or not, I do like you."

"Why?"

"What?" You look at him, confused.

He doesn't look at you, instead opting to look at his hands, "Why do you like me?"

"Um... Well-" You let out a chuckle. "You're really smart. You act like you don't care, but I know deep down you would do anything for the people you care about... Um... what else?" Your eyes scan the ceiling before your eyes widen and you look towards him, "Oh! Sometimes you're attractive, especially covered in blood."

He finally looks at you, an unknown emotion swarming in his eyes, "Yeah?"

"Yeah." You smile, "But I really like you for you. You know? There's no one else I'd rather spend the end of the world with."

He smiles, but it quickly goes away, "So... What did you want?"

"Oh, right. The dreams..."

"Right." He doesn't need you to continue. Unlike his dreams that were filled with you and a happy life with you, yours were filled with destruction, blood, death; In other words the future. Your mind couldn't get off of the end of the world. "Do you want to stay in here with me? I'll watch you and wake you up if it looks like you're having nightmare."

"I don't want you to watch me sleep. I just wanted to.... I don't know."

"You don't know what you want?"

"No, that's not what I mean. I just... I wanted to be near you." You look down at your hands, before looking at him, "Because believe it or not, I really like you."

"Well, it's a good thing I really like you, too."

"I know, Five. I know."

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vampbloodbunny · 1 year

Text

Five ' i drink more coffee then Lorelai Gilmore ' Hargreeves

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mangoshorthand · 8 months

Note

oh, and it was a guy who decided to tell me that as soon as all my clothes were off

Original request:

I have a really personal request of thats ok w u. my first time having sex i was called ugly and obese, and it still sticks with me nowadays so i shy away from being fully exposed/on top/having the lights on bc im scared they were right and its gonna happen again - so how would 5 deal w this in a partner? if this is too weird 4 u then just ignore

Thanks to @kaybreezy3000 for reading through this before I posted and making me sound less like a wildly-masturbating 19th century nobleman. Note for you at the end, anon.

Venus and Cupid | Five Hargreeves/ F Reader 4k words, Rated E

Five was an observant man: he had to be. If he hadn’t learned to pick up on the details then it's doubtful he could have even made it to adulthood.

So he noticed that you had quite specific tendencies very early on, back when you were first seeing one another. The first time you had sex, he thought you leaving your clothes on was pretty hot - it seemed as if you were so desperate to have him inside you that you couldn’t delay it even the short time it would take to get undressed - but it quickly became apparent to him that this was something more.

You always seemed to leave as many clothes on as humanly possible, or else turn off the lights before undressing shyly, almost reluctantly, always keeping something clutched around you.

His first reaction was to feel frustrated, (okay, frustrated and insecure, if you insisted on wheedling that out of him). Were you even into it?

He loved the sex you had, and you certainly seemed to get something out of it, but all the while you were covering yourself from his lustful gaze like he was a lecherous drunk eyeing you from down an alley.

He just didn’t understand it. Things were great outside the bedroom: you laughed together, you had intelligent, lively conversations…you even romanced him in a way nothing had taught him to expect. You anticipated his wants, you surprised him with dates and the occasional gift. You made him feel special and wanted in every way except this one way.

And he needed it that way too.

Maybe there was something about sex that brought home to you that he was old enough to be your father. Maybe you saw his hungry gaze as the leer of a dirty, predatory old man...and that thought hurt because it held too much truth.

He finally asked you about it after a session of sex in which you looked distinctly uncomfortable riding him, avoiding his gaze and keeping the bed sheets wrapped around you.

He brought it up in a way typical to him: blunt antagonism as defense, masking his real insecurities. “Question: why are you with me?”

“Because I like you,” you replied, confused by his tone.

“Sure,” he said, the smallest trace of sarcasm in his voice, “but there’s a problem here, isn’t there?”

You turned to him on the pillow, and you were greeted by his expectant, irritated smile. He raised a brow, clearly prompting you to state this so-called ‘problem’. When you seemed none the wiser, he continued.

“The problem seems to be that you hate having sex with me.”

You looked at him, nonplussed.

“No I don’t. Why would you say that?”

He shook his head with the trace of a bitter laugh.

“So you just hate me looking at you, is that it? You know, nobody’s forcing you to sleep with me. We could just end it if you can’t stand me ogling you.”

You turned away from him, folding your arms across your chest protectively, hugging yourself. You tried not to cry, but tears were already welling in your eyes, threatening to overspill and roll down your face. You could feel him slipping away; sense the rejection coming on the breeze.

At the sound of a sniffle, Five softened slightly

“Why do you always cover yourself?” he said, finally.

You choked back the tears.

“B-because I’m self-conscious about my body, okay?”

Five sounded incredulous.

“You’re self-conscious about your body?”

You nodded, still not looking at him.

“Don’t bullshit me,” he said, suddenly irritated again, “You expect me to believe someone who looks like you is self conscious about her body? You’re beautiful, what the hell do you got to be self conscious about?”

His words, though spoken in a tone of irritated disbelief, gave you a warm feeling in your chest. In fact, it was his irritation that assured you of his honesty. That feeling of affirmation brought more tears at first, and it took a few moments to recover.

Five waited for you to begin patiently, able to tell by now that you’d been holding something back, and realizing for the first time that perhaps this wasn’t all about him.

You told him everything.

Your first sexual experience was with somebody who called you ‘ugly’ and ‘obese’ as soon as your clothes were removed. The first man to touch you in that way had used that privilege, not to lift you up and make you feel beautiful, but to tear you down, destroying your confidence in the process. Now, being in full view when having sex was almost unbearable to you, so you avoided Five seeing you completely naked and you avoided being on top as far as you could, lest it break the illusion and he see you for what you really were.

You stopped occasionally to cry, unable to meet Five’s eyes. It was partially the memories, and partly the fact that you were bearing your soul to him in this way: totally vulnerable. You were giving power to him now; knowledge of how to hurt you worse than almost anything if he chose.

As he listened, Five’s heavy brows lowered further and further, his lips becoming thinner and thinner, occasionally shaking his head as you unfolded the tale.

“Shit.” he said, after you finished your story, and then fell into silence. After almost a full minute, he spoke in a low, serious tone.

“What was his name?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you said, wiping your eyes.

“What was his name?”

You told him.

“Well he’s a fucking idiot, you know that right? A nasty little…you know where he lives?”

“No.”

“No problem, I can find him.”

“Five-”

“First I’ll pull out his fucking fingernails.”

“Five, no.”

“I’ll kill that cunt slow. Ignorant-”

“Five!”

Your raised voice finally made him turn his head.

“What good would killing him do?”

He blinked.

“It would make me feel better,” he said, though the murderous fantasies seemed to be fading from behind his eyes.

Then, he shook his head, casting the thoughts away like a dog shaking off water.

“....I admit that making me feel better is low on our priority list right now.”

He held out his arms to you. When you didn’t immediately enter his embrace, he spoke in a voice so soft, and so caring that you couldn’t deny him.

“Please, my love.”

My love?

That was new.

You leaned up against him, and he wrapped his arms tightly around you, one around your shoulders, the other around your waist.

“You don’t have to feel self-conscious or…ashamed around me. You know I would never - you know that I…I worship you, for Chist’s sake. I’m desperate to see all of you. That guy was an ignorant, tasteless bastard. You don’t - surely you know that?”

You nodded uncertainly, another tear running down the side of your nose.

“I guess,” you said, mouth against his firm pectoral, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart, “but I always get scared. Like you might…like one day you might see me and...get grossed out. Because…I know, I know I’m not sexy. I know I’m -”

“You think you aren’t sexy?” he said, speaking as if you’d just claimed that you were an organic cucumber, “are you crazy?”

He pulled away from you, a hand on each shoulder so he could look you dead in the eye.

“Jesus, you think I’d be ‘grossed out’ if I saw you? I’m not blind, y'know; a bedsheet or a light switch can’t really hide your body from me. You’re so sexy, I can barely think straight sometimes - how in the hell can you not see that? I’d choose you for looks over any girl, every damn time. The other day when you were wearing that tight black dress- god, I pitched a tent big enough to sleep eight.”

And the way he looked down at your silhouette had you almost believing him.

You smiled, nevertheless self conscious of the idea of your black dress being more form-hugging than you’d thought. Five continued, sweeping his hair carelessly out of his eyes.

“And it’s not just your face or your body, it’s the way you carry yourself. The way your hair falls, your smile, the color of your skin. It’s just attractive. It’s hot. End of story.”

The vehemence in his face made you smile a little more. He looked the way he did when he’d just completed a complex mathematical proof: buzzing with the knowledge of pure, objective truth. From his perspective, he had just conclusively proved an undeniable fact.

“I know I’m biased because I love you, but anyone would say that you’re beautiful. When you met Klaus, he took me aside and told me I was punching way over my weight. I didn’t even argue-”

But you interrupted him.

“You love me?”

He fell silent abruptly, playing back his last words in his mind.

Yup, he’d definitely said it.

He swallowed. He was an idiot.

“Well yes. Actually, I do.”

Before you had time to do anything except gape, he rushed to fill the silence:

“I know it’s not been too long, and I don’t expect you to feel the same-”

“But I do.”

He fell silent again, his eyes on yours.

They were strange eyes. Their shape and color, although beautiful, were normal enough, but there was a little something in their expression that always took you firmly by the throat. One might fall into those eyes and drown, yet his hand, coming to take yours, tethered you to the water’s edge.

“You sure?”

“Never been more sure of anything,” you breathed.

His lips gave a spasm and, for a moment, you both thought he was going to cry too, but instead, he just smiled. He smiled for you a lot, but the clear, open love in this one was like being bathed in warm sunlight, and you luxuriated in it.

Then, he laughed. He giggled, in fact. It bubbled up his throat and out of his mouth before he could temper it into anything that sounded more sophisticated.

“We love each other,” he said, grinning in a dopey, infectious way.

When you smiled back, he cupped your chin gently, those eyes keeping your face upturned to his just as firmly as his hand did. He leaned into you.

At first, his kiss was tender, and your lips slid past and around one another like an embrace. But when he leaned forward, forcing you back onto your pillows, his tongue entered your mouth, and the kiss took on a more amorous character. He made a low noise as he deepened his tongue’s quest into your mouth, and you reciprocated with a soft bite to his lower lip.

He growled, and heat spread through you as his kiss became rough and firm, pressing you into the pillows now with the weight of his body. All the tenderness had transferred from his lips to his hands, one stroking reassuringly through your hair, and the other at your waist, giving you feather-light, electric touches through the bedsheets.

Your hands came to his subtly muscled back, and cinched him closer to you. The heat was concentrating now, pooling in your lower stomach and swirling there as his unyielding lips let you know that resistance was futile. Your skin was alight with every gentle, loving touch from his fingers, now starting to work their way beneath the bedsheets.

He broke the kiss just long enough to speak. His voice matched the kiss: deep, rough and feral.

“Let me see you.”

Though it was a command, it had the sound of a request, so you took it as such.

Despite the desire now aching in your guts, your fears were still there: perhaps irrational in this situation, but no less real. Beneath the sheets, Five’s hand squeezed and massaged the flesh just above your hip. The touch spoke of his renewed need, but it spoke also of his restraint: his hand had stopped just shy of the area you’d usually hide.

“Please.”

And the word, in that husky voice, broke you.

“Okay,” you said, arousal threatening to be overcome by nerves, “just…take it slowly.”

He nodded distractedly. His eyes were roaming your skin as he came to kneel between your legs. Both of his hands were now inching the bedsheets down, from your waist to the swell of your hips.

He made a low noise in his throat, and his soft hair fell onto the newly-exposed torso as he bent to kiss it, hot presses of his lips against sensitive skin. His hands skimmed you, feeling out your flesh.

“So beautiful,” he growled, looking up at you, fingers worming their way beneath the sheets again, “is this okay?”

You nodded as he pulled the sheets down another few inches, exposing your stomach to just below the navel. As the air met the newly-exposed skin, you felt gooseflesh prickle across your arms, your stomach tightening with the feeling of exposure. “Pretty girl.” Five cooed, running his hands across your tummy, his pressure gentle, but proprietary.

With another slow shift of the sheets, and you were exposed to your pubic bone. He let out a breath and squeezed the skin of your hips, smiling at you broadly. It was the dangerous, toothy smile.

“I’m sorry, my love, but I’m afraid we’re going to have to get you over this. I’m going to have to make you realize how fucking hot you are, because I’m going to need to hold onto you just like this while you bounce on my cock. I need to watch these tits bounce while you ride me.”

He squeezed your flank harshly, making you gasp, and you arched your back into him as he leaned forward to take each nipple into his mouth. There was a low rumble in his throat as he first nibbled, and then soothed each tortured bud with his tongue. Your whines tailed off into moans, as arousal and the intensity of his desire once again overcame your fears.

You felt his satisfied smile around your nipples, and then his hands left your hips to paw and knead your breasts, weighing and bouncing them in each hand.

He gave you another kiss on the lips before straightening up, so that he was kneeling over you again, head tilted as he looked down on you, almost speculatively. The position made it obvious that he was hard again, his bulge stretching the fabric of his white boxer-briefs, leaning up against his stomach and beginning to put pressure on the elastic of his waistband. His pretty, curved cock was perfectly outlined by the material:

“I’m going to make you feel so confident that you’ll push me onto the bed, trap me between your thighs and ride me so hard I get a concussion against the headboard.”

Though the idea made you feel another squirm of discomfort, the humor combined with the lust behind his eyes made you give a small smile.

“Not today,” you said, in a small voice.

The memories were still too close…the hurt from recalling them was only just over the horizon.

“Not today.” he confirmed, eyes roving down to where the bedsheets still covered your sex, “but can I see your pussy, beautiful?”

“Yes.” you said, barely more than a whisper.

“Mm. Good girl,” he groaned, and pulled the bedsheets down to your knees.

There you were, fully exposed to him…totally bared. Internally, you were fighting between the urge to cover up, and the urge to please him. You still felt exposed, like a turtle without its shell, vulnerable laid out in front of him.

He was still taking it all in, eyes lingering on where your thighs were as close together as they could be with his body between your calves.

Part of you was still terrified it was coming. Perhaps he wouldn’t be cruel - he’d probably try to be polite about it - but he was still about to reject you now that he’d finally got a real look. Perhaps it was okay when his imagination could fill in the blanks, but now he’d actually seen you -

“Oh,” he said.

And in that syllable, all your fears were proved baseless. The sound was a moan of pure, wanton appreciation.

His tongue slid out to wet his lips, still pink and swollen from his hard kisses. His dominant left hand slid immediately into his underwear, and he began to pump himself vigorously. Apparently, he was more than ready for this evening’s second round.

“Oh my god,” he groaned, speeding his strokes as his eyes roamed your exposed flesh, “you’re so hot.”

As his eyes came to your thighs and pussy again, he increased the frequency of his strokes, fist still out of sight down his underwear.

“Five,” you said, anxiously, still feeling slightly uncomfortable.

“Just a few minutes, baby.” he said, desperately, “Look what you’re doing to me.”

Beneath the material, he retracted his foreskin and pressed the head of his cock against the small, wet patch that had appeared there. The pink of his deeply-flushed cock tip was just visible through the fabric, rendered semi-transparent by his precome.

“I’m already leaking.” he said, agony creeping into his rough voice, “Just a few more minutes. Just until I finish.”

His eyes looked hazy, far away somehow, transported to a place where his body’s need ruled him with an iron fist. It was enchanting to behold, impossibly arousing: Five Hargreeves (the man of impeccably starched, pressed and tightly-buttoned dress shirts), was keening in front of you, totally undone with his hips gyrating into his own fist as he visually devoured your body.

“Let me eat you,” he said, begging now, “I want to jack myself off with my head between those thighs.”

And he groaned at the idea, throwing his head back and speeding his pumps.

Your body didn’t give you the opportunity to turn him down. Your pussy throbbed and slick wetness drooled onto your thighs as you looked up at him, all pale skin, latent strength and desperation.

You gave a small nod, and he bent, first to kiss your lips and then to press small pecks onto each thigh.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispered, “open your legs for me. Show me that pretty pussy.”

And that way, with small kisses progressively further up your thighs, he coaxed your legs wide.

“Good girl,” he crooned, his hand leaving his leaking cock only for the minute it would take to run his index finger up and down your slit.

You shivered at the contact, too sensitive. He’d already fingered and fucked you to two orgasms tonight, and the feeling of his mouth replacing his finger made you buck immediately.

“Nngh - Five.”

In response to your moan, he tasted you with a flat tongue.

Your flavor, a potent honey, made his cock twitch in his hand, and he wrapped his free arm around your leg, drawing you even closer to him. Your soft folds soaked his lips, serving to excite him more.

“Fuck,” he whispered, still in that low growl. His exhale sent warm air dancing across your swollen clit, “you’re so perfect. I love you. I love you so fucking much.”

You had no time to glow with his praise, because he was sucking your clit too hard for you to do anything but gasp. As his mouth worked you, his tongue moved rapidly inside his mouth, flicking deliberately across your aching, needy nub. His tongue pulsed to the same beat as his hand inside his underwear, unconsciously matching the rhythm of your pleasure to his.

“God, Five!”

All the shame and discomfort was gone, washed away by the tide of swirling heat. The pleasure curled inside you, winding tighter and tighter. All that mattered now was Five’s clever mouth, pushing you inexorably towards another orgasm.

Your conscious brain let go, and your hand gripped his hair tightly, not aware that you were pulling him even closer to you, forcing his nose into your mound.

He grunted like a wounded bear, surprise causing his hand to falter around his cock. It was hard to concentrate, so preoccupied was he by the fact that you were taking control, pressing his face deeper into your folds. It was quite possibly the hottest thing he had ever experienced.

Recovering, he gripped himself even tighter, veins and tendons standing out in his left forearm as he worked himself almost violently.

He was too close now, and it made him clumsy, completely losing the rhythm of his suckles and tonguing.

“Nooo!” you whined, thighs tightening around his head, “Like before!”

Though lightheaded with the knowledge that your thighs were crushing his ears, (he was wrong earlier, this was definitely the hottest thing he had ever experienced), Five reluctantly let up on his protesting manhood and concentrated his efforts on your pussy.

Soon, you were gasping and moaning, writhing, and taking him with you with the power of your thighs.

“F-Five. Fuuuck. Oh fuck, that’s it!”

Your cunt gushed onto his face as he brought you to orgasm. He groaned again as his chin and cheeks were soaked with sweet slickness. He strained to hear you scream his name, your thighs rendering him deaf as they clutched around his ears. While he couldn’t hear the individual words, he certainly heard enough to flatter his ego.

Wave after wave of ecstasy was crashing through you, and you babbled meaninglessly: unconnected, incomprehensible syllables. Behind closed eyes, you were seeing stars, completely unaware of everything but the explosion going on in your lower body.

He withdrew, finally, when your thighs relaxed and your climax abated to spasms down your limbs. As you were still catching your breath, he rose to his knees, wiped his sodden mouth, and took himself in hand again, looking at you splayed, completely on display and too drunk on his sex to care.

It took him fewer than ten pumps to bring himself to orgasm.

“Fucking gorgeous - cunt tastes so good. Mm - fucking perfect, so fucking hot. Oh shit!”

Eyebrows raised, mouth wide in a perfect ‘o’, he exploded into his underwear.

You could see his first shots of come soaking through the material before he was even finished painting their insides with spurts of his thick seed: an impressive load given the fact it was his second in under an hour.

His throat ground out a low whine as he slowed his hand.

He took four or five seconds to catch his breath, and in that time your conscious mind took a firmer hold. Though you pulled the bedsheets up and over you, it was more for physical comfort rather than mental.

Five crawled beneath the sheets beside you, still breathing hard. When he collapsed on the pillow, he turned to you.

“Believe me now?” he asked, “you think I’d wank myself raw over someone I thought was ugly?”

You smiled and let out a small puff of air; a shy little laugh.

He propped himself up on one elbow while his other hand caressed your body beneath the sheets.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, firmly, “To me, you’re a renaissance painting, and I was there when Titian finished Venus and Cupid, okay?”

“Okay,” you murmured, eyes already heavy, “I’m sorry that I squeezed your head with my legs.”

“You kidding me?” he said, amused, “You could break my neck with your thighs and I’d die happy…what a way to go.”

“Well,” you said, a little discomfort returning, “I still feel bad.”

“Baby steps,” he said, voice as soft as his hand now stroking hair away from your eyes, “soon I’ll have you riding me fast and rough.”

You smiled and let his caresses close your tired eyes. After a few minutes, in which he looked lovingly down at your gentle doze, his voice sounded again.

“Can I at least beat the living shit out of that guy?”

You considered.

“...Maybe.”

Request masterlist >> HERE

NOTE: Dear sweet, anonymous girl, I see you. You did not deserve this, and this was never your problem. These formative experiences really do hurt us, and yours was such an extreme version that I'm not surprised it's given you these insecurities. I can promise you, it does get better. Feminism and loving yourself is at least half the battle, but nothing quite cements the truth like this: One day, you will be naked in front of a guy you trust completely. He'll look at you with that lustful, testosterone-fuelled glower and you'll know without a shadow of a doubt that, to him, you are venus. I take Five requests, I'm fairly versatile in what I write (fluff, smut, angst, psychological character study- I'll try it all) but I will consider them on a case by case basis. See masterlist for request status and more.

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