I'm very aware that I haven't posted a story in a long time, and I am very aware that I am not going to get many views for it. Do I care? Eh. But do I care that I'm probably not gonna get recognition for the shit that I worked my ass off for? NO!
Honestly writing is pretty much an award for me more than anything. So if you don't like it, I don't care. Read something else. But if you like it, I will love you forever. 😃
Enjoy a little taste of Isaac, as he is basically the main protagonist for this little snippet of The Umbrella Academy I scrounged up from their pathetic little lives I created. APPRECIATE IT OR LEAVE!! 🔫
Oh, and by the way, the reason why I was gone for three fucking months was because I was writing a bunch of smuts for you guys. So BE GLAD that I came back with some spicy imagined. I didn't have to if I'd didn't wanna.
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"Are you fucking shitting with me?" an on-edge teenager hissed in my face. A flash of vibrant colors of a bong flailed around with the movements of his arm when he threw it up in utter defeat at my unfortunate news. Though the smoke of the pot seeped deep into his lungs, the tint of his livid face, and even his rotten mind, he was still not impressed by the enlightenment during the session.
My teeth flashed a white smile, and I nodded my head at him after I took a deep hit of mine. "Yes sir, he's paying us a little visit." With the unwavering look on my friend's face, I shook off the tension with a haughty laugh. "Oh my God, we get it! You're about to piss your skin tight chinos 'cause you're so fucking ecstatic to see Klaus."
Isaac rolled his dark eyes with a crane of his neck toward the ceiling. With the angle, there was a clear view of the tacky gold chain necklace he bore around his neck, along with other over-the-top accessories complementing his whole frat boy pull off. Varying from silver rings to bright cross earrings and the loose flannel he let sway and slide with every movement of his shoulders on and off his body carelessly made me want to suffocate him with a nearby handkerchief soaked with chloroform.
The fact that he no doubt glanced at himself in the mirror every morning and thought, "damn, I look like a young version of that sexy Brad Pitt guy", was incredibly idiotic. Sure, sure, I wore shit like that now and then, but not for an everyday sesh with my best friend (and consider the term "sesh", which could vary from many known definitions). In all honesty, he looked like he was hosting a post-graduation party for a crowded mixture of christian grandmas and 18 year old strippers. I found it ridiculous, and he knew it too, considering he had been hearing me bickering about it for around 10 minutes.
My gaze lowered to the planes of his unfortunately bare chest, as he wore nothing underneath that damn flannel, and watched as he rubbed his hand on a mysterious bruise that stretched along the lines of it. How he had earned it was unknown to me, and I sometimes thought that maybe it was a blessing from God that we didn't know everything. "Are you trying to fuck with my life? Every second spent with that clown is time I'll never get back. And the fact that he latches onto me like a toddler that lost their mommy the second he sees me doesn't make it any better."
I shrugged nonchalantly, and slumped against the wooden frame of my bed. "Maybe he likes you. You know he's pan, right? He tends to keep an open mind when it comes to chicks and some guys—"
"So what? I'm bisexual, and do you know what else I am? Not interested. I don't give a flying fuck if he's straight or gay, white or black, Canadian or Taiwanese for all I care! If he acts like everything's made out of cotton candy and rainbows all the fucking time, he needs to get his head out of his own ass and fucking leave me alone! I don't give a shit if he sells pounds of dope a day or that he drop kicked his pet hamster across the living room rather than a baseball—"
"Wait, he actually did that?" a low voice asked out of mere curiosity, cutting through the childish tangent Isaac spiraled down into as Five and I stared at him, eyes half shut and mouths open agape in pure, utter, terrible boredom. Earlier, the brunette had walked in on me and my friend smoking during midday, a mysterious box that I definitely didn't know what was in it in hand, and decided that it wouldn't hurt to apply himself to our fucked up conversations that made little to no sense in a logical aspect.
Judging from the quiet laughs and low mutters of "what the hell"'s that were muttered mindlessly into my ear as he was sprawled out over my bed and resting his chin on my shoulder, since I parked my ass on the ground, I doubted he truly had an insight on my social life until then. After the branching off of topics we concocted in our intoxicated minds, he never left me for someone else, so that was a fucking score. If I was him, I would have left me 100 years ago.
I inconspicuously angled my face toward his, regretting my life decisions on even letting Isaac come over that day, and murmured softly, "Yeah, babe. Him and I were playing kickball with dad's old collected relics when we were 15, and when I was running for third and he was ready to kick, I saw him kick something that definitely wasn't a baseball." When there was no answer and when Five began to stare off into space, possibly imagining a furry blob launching head on into a nearby wall, I snickered, "He made a homerun."
One beat. Two silent beats. Three. Then, an abrupt fit of giggling and snorting commenced between us, which all consisted of cheesy ass face nuzzling and dismissive hand slapping that I surprisingly grew to love after him and I made it open and official that we were together. Following a month and a half of sticking by the boy's side, going on walk dates, pulling a couple of Lady and the Tramps during dinner and fucking here and there, it was safe to say that I had this dating concept stuck in my head like glue.
At first, I sucked balls at it (haha). With only nervous glances and chaste kisses given openly during training or whatever, I wanted to choke myself with my tie. If anything, I should have been the fucking master at it. The Teenage Soap Opera and Love Making Lord!
But, of course, my ego was obliterated like a fucking atomic bomb was dropped on it with Five's constant gushing and love smothering that made me feel absolutely idiotic. Aw Y/N, can't hold hands in front of Sir Reggie? Or, Aw Y/N, too afraid of PDA? Shut up you sadistic shrimp-looking ass! I would protest with an unanimous pout, Not like you bottom me every time we fu—and that was how far it would always be taken, for he would slap a palm over my babbling mouth with haste before someone could have caught on to what we were talking about.
And no joke, I loved it, the whole "couple" thing. I could act like a flirting maniac and an attention seeker all I wanted, and Five wouldn't give a flying fuck. In fact, he reveled in it, loved it. Sometimes, when I felt like shit, he was the one who would return the favor, just 100 times worse.
And, as we began to shift gears into cheesy compliments and finger poking at cheeks and noses, a loud and pointed groan cut through the small scene that began to play before the Russian's eyes. We turned our heads simultaneously with fed up sighs, and I raised my eyebrows in request to finish whatever sentence he wanted desperately to say. "Hey, you know I'm right here. Before you two continue to laugh like a gossiping clique of stuck-up bitches and possibly start fucking in front of me, let me finish this damn session," he sniped, which to his utter delight, only made us laugh more.
In an attempt at rivalry, Five only murmured with distaste into my listening ear, "fuck-tard", and glared at him with taunting eyes until he burrowed his face into my neck like he was doing before he asked that reasonable question. Isaac gave us a bored expression, and tilted his head back to puff out more smoke he inhaled from his drug. I just fondled mine.
"You know, being hot is nice and all, but wouldn't it be killer to look like Oscar Isaac? I mean, the dude has girls practically draped over his shoulders and he's 43." Isaac bit his lip and jutted his chin upward, possibly reconsidering his standards in men. "Man, Isaacs are always fine."
I scoffed. "Dude, don't you ever shut up? We all know you beat it to pictures of yourself on your Instagram, now grow up."
"Facts, no lies there. I'm not a liar."
Just before I was going to find the sharpest object closest to me and stab myself to death, the sudden heat of Five's cheek rubbing against a shadow of my neck reeled me away from the room and the douche that probably sucked his own dick that was laughing at nothing.
With little to no attention paid to the time waster of someone I had serious balls to call a friend, I retorted quietly, "Sometimes I wish you are." God, I just wanted him to leave already. My navy gym shorts were getting too tight! Fuck, I just bought these.
"Y/N..." a whisper held my body still, and I seethed at the pain of the unbearable moment testing my limits to keep it in my pants before I fucking passed away, and from something else. I turned my head at an angle to brush my nose against his, and he gently nipped at my jawline. The manwhore knew damn well what he was doing, and I wanted to slap him for it. He tended to pull that card on me much more frequently as our comfort levels skyrocketed for each other's affections. For instance, it could be during a peaceful and relaxing dinner, and it would be full of meaningless chatter about what language or what class they enjoyed studying the most and a very ostracized face just staring at a nearby wall with very red cheeks. With the face beside his smirking.
Or it could have been during training, while I could have been dozing off on a side bench and probably staring at a stupid bird outside a window or something, Five would come up and lick my ear or let his hand slither its way underneath my usual gray gym shorts just to mess with my head.
I hated it! And he couldn't keep it in his pants for Christ sake! That was his own way of telling me through his actions, "Fuck me before I send Isaac our nudes from that last time" or some type of fuckery he knew he'd get away with. Well, that was hypocritical of me to say, since I reacted to his one-sided treatment as soon as every presence in the same room had abandoned us. It always worked, and he always received cocky satisfaction in making me crumble.
But there were sweet moments too. Like if the rain that dampened the streets of New York down to the very foundations along with my past memories that kept the bit of insaneness in my head wildly active, Julian would've been there with his arms wrapped around my shoulders, whispering reassuring promises into my ear. Or when he was having another episode filled with panic attacks and window breaking, I was there to hold his hands and soothe the overwhelming anxiety away with chaste kisses to his eyelids and thumb rubs to his knuckles.
Yes, our lives weren't perfect. None of his siblings had stereotypical teenage lives or led perfect demeanors through perfectly constructed days with no worries if you were going to die the next day trying to save a civilian, or if you were going to get your ass handed to you for the tenth time that day. Though, that was what made our relationship unique. Out of the ordinary. Perfectly imperfect.
And simplistic lovey dovey staring from across classrooms and nose bumps that made us crack smiles when we cuddled up together for the night (we basically slept in my bedroom together from then on, but the fuck tard was insistent on keeping it spotless) was everything that kept me sane, kept me loving him.
What? Were you thinking that we were only fuck buddies and let our dicks speak instead of our minds? Well hate to break it to ya, but you're wrong there. Us two buzz heads could actually reason. Having sex with each other was a side convenience.
I frowned at my devious boyfriend's teasing, and looked at him with a sideway glance. I was wholly conscious of Isaac's continuous babbling on how girls didn't need to wear bathing suits at swimming pools or some shit like that. He was too absorbed in his own world to notice that I had the worst boner in the entire damn world. "Five, Isaac's in the room."
"Hm? Isaac? I don't see him," he gave me an incredulous look with a small frown, and flicked his gaze around the room, scanning the surrounding floor for a pot head with platinum blonde hair and reddened eyes. When I lifted a hand to gesture toward the clear view of my friend sitting on our right, he was gone. In fact, the whole room was changed into something different.
My bed was no longer pressed against my back and my bong had vanished from my grasp. I peered up at the familiar ceiling of Five's room only to see that my lover was sitting on his newly made bed, hooking his legs over my shoulders and smirking down at me like a child. I came to realize that he was starting to undress himself to my delight. Speaking of sex...
(I wanted to delete this part, considering it practically made me shrivel up like a fucking raisin from embarrassment every time I read it. But without it, it would make the other two parts pretty confusing. So stick with me, mkay? And NO. I'm not considering it a smut because they have sex soon. I don't believe Y/N or Five deserve such a title 😤.)
My E/C eyes blew wide open in anticipation, and my body took no time in pivoting where I sat on my knees to face him fully. This wasn't going to end well. "Oh, now Isaac's going to wonder where the hell we are." Yeah, when he eventually swat away the smoke that was filling his brain up to the rim.
I slapped away his hands that were unbuttoning his casual navy blue button up, making him gulp in air with brief hesitation. But, he gave up his dignity to lean back on the heels of his hands and watch me as I began to deftly make my way down the line to expose his body. "I'm gonna take a wild guess that you don't really care what he thinks, but I may be wrong there, considering you practically worship him."
"What if I do?" I pulled back his shirt to face his pale chest, and I grabbed at his clothing of choice to drag his body to come in contact with my lips. Oh my sweet Jesus, I needed this. He's so fucking addicting and he knew it too.
"Haha! Wait, wait, you really care about him talking one hundred miles per hour about boobs and local gay stripper clubs?" His hands wove into my H/C hair when I kissed his solar plexus, my hands pulling down his black shorts as fast as Luther loved to pull his infamous fast one on Sir Reggie.
"Nah, but the Oscar topic kind of intrigued me," I mused, and dragged my frantic kisses down his toned stomach. If I didn't get some of Julian's body in the next ten minutes, the academy could've gone ahead and dug me a gave, my tombstone complementing the scene with the words Here lies Y/N L/N, whose memory will forever be cherished in our hearts, unlike his dick that caused his unfortunate death engraved in the surface.
He tilted his head up to the watching heavens with no shame in what we were doing for perhaps what was the second time today and ran his tongue across his full bottom lip. "Mm... I remember your obsession with him when we were preteens. Trust me, we all have seen the posters of his face behind your bed frame. Speaking of, what's your fucking deal with posters?"
"Do you really want to talk about my strange obsessions with men celebrities when we're about to break your bed for the one hundredth time?"
"Not really. I don't want to be scarred for the second time today."
"That's what I thought."
I kept my mouth's interests down south, right after I slid his boxers off to throw them against his drawers with a slap, and grabbed his hips to drag them to where he was basically sitting on my shoulders. Forcing him to meet my face. His body flinched at the suddenness as he gasped, surprise tugging upward on his eyebrows. But he didn't care. Of course he didn't. Five Hargreeves reveled in this shit like the hot horny fuck he was.
If all of the academy were ever lucky enough to be crowned for our biggest achievements in life, he would have a golden band of honor that had "horniest boyfriend" written all over it. Even with his innocent grin and childish blush that complemented his beauty marks on his dimpled cheeks would have given it all away. His charade of candidness was pretty much useless after all of the teens knew about our sex life to the very last details (I may or may not have bragged numerous times about shit like that).
But as for that day, that moment, he was not all smiles and sophisticated waves. He was all gasping, sweaty from his forehead to his exposed chest, flushed almost everywhere. His face was screwed up and his mouth open wide as he kept his eyes closed but angled toward the ceiling. I kept working him quickly, putting my silver tongue to use as well as my deft dominant hand and enjoying every single second of it.
I always wondered how much his fangirls would've paid to see a sight like this, despite his sexuality. Though they didn't really seem to have a single care as they kept making posters at Umbrella Academy events that say ludicrous and very bold confessions like: "Kiss me, Five!" "You make me wet, Five Hargreeves!" "Please fuck me!". I also never failed to use that to my advantage, possibly dragging the said boy toward my body in front of them to French kiss him, admiring the eruption of high pitched angered screams and the sounds of girls bursting into full blown sobs at the sight. And adding to the fact that he also played along and added a heavy moan and a grab to my hair, waist, or ass really made the crowd go insane. And Five loved it. He even returned the favor when signs about me were being twirled and waved in the crowd.
We need to do that more often! he would pant as we ran away from our exposed make out session like two juveniles attempting to get away with vandalism or some other act of crime. That was some real statement shit! We'll become gay icons! I would look at him incredulously, and he would shrug. You really aspire for us to be fruity model school boys that may or may not have an onlyfans account? He would only shush me and say nothing more. I took a wild guess and would have guessed he did.
Maybe, as I was currently giving him an amazing blowjob, I should have whipped out my phone and began the real fandom torture for those girls that stalked our Instagram pages. An explicit post would never hurt.
Hands dragged me out of my thoughts and off of his dick when Five heaved for air, fingers gripping at my hair as he looked down at me. I gave him a small smirk and a dark hooded stare as I swallowed deeply with a devious lick of my lips. The brunette's breathing quickened, his thumbs wiping away the liquid that I missed around my mouth and smiled. But that smile was definitely not sweet, and I grinned back before I gave small kisses on the inside of his thighs to draw him down from his overwhelming high. I massaged his hips afterward.
The sound of our labored breathing died down, and I somewhat had a giddy struggle when I scrambled up off of the floor, kicking miscellaneous objects across the room in my wake of a frenzy, and swung my legs over his silk-like hips to press my physical issue against his own. And boy, it made us make some unholy noises. "G-God, I feel so bad for y-your, uh... who is he, the Juliet to your Romeo?"
"Ugh, don't act so possessive when the bastard acts like that. Besides, he royally hates this shit," I moaned in a high volume like the horny bastard I was as I licked up his tongue that he stuck out for me, grinding on him with picked up speed. "You're all mine."
"Hates hearing us screw each other's brains out? You lost me there. Everyone does," he chuckled through his loud pants that almost turned into gasps. "And baby, if he, quote unquote, hates this shit, why don't we let karma do its job for when he dumped beer on us while we were making out last night? We'll give him something to fucking hate."
"Wait, are you seriously suggesting we should actually piss off the King Of Prostitution right now?" I laughed at the idea. And when he shrugged nonchalantly, I eventually grew quiet while a smirk stretched across my lips. "Hm. Maybe it is a good idea. Well actually, a horrible one but with good pitch. Let's do it."
Five leaned back to peer into my eager eyes, and his expression represented something similar. God I loved him. "If you say so, babe." His soft palm rubbed up and down my back, until it abruptly ventured underneath my shorts to cup my backside, making me gasp quietly. "Then let me love you, hm?"
I didn't know what had happened then, but something clicked so quickly inside of us like a light switch. Our hands felt like fire yearning for oxygen as our limbs moved without hesitation against each other. Mouths were greedy, fingers were quick, throats were bared. Maybe it was the drug, or maybe it was the drug beneath me that was looking at me when we were finally naked and sitting sideways on the sheeted bed, knowing what we were going to do next.
I was pulled into an open lap as our preparations began anew and fixed up into readiness, and I angled my thighs above his hips at the feeling of his soft lips gliding up my neck and palms opening my legs from behind a little more. A little more until—Oh shiiiit...
The feeling was foreign, yeah. And not once have we done this before. With our familiarity in letting the brunette straddle me or get flipped under me was no bearing stress on my dignity. But... what?
Time warped into a slow drag, the furniture and walls around us melting like sweet honey as did our movements on our bodies. Slowly, hotly, without restraint. The scene could have been compared to an explosion clip from a movie, with the main protagonist sauntering away with egotistical swagger from the eruption of fire against their back. Timely but hot (haha), and worth watching for the ache of the adrenaline rush. But I guess that was different. I guess riding your boyfriend for the first time wasn't necessarily similar to walking away from explosions, rather it was running head on into one. Craving the burning heat in every inch of your body that made you feel so alive. Was this what he felt every time we were doing this?
Without shame covering my mouth and being the puppet master of my actions and movements, I sighed with relief into his mouth as my eyes rolled backward. He choked out a chuckle, and he wrapped his arms around my waist and flipped us around to where we both fell backwards onto the bed. Lips were locked against the other's when my shameless noises began to rip out of my mouth and into his. And we were being very loud.
While we basically yelled out obscure profanities and kept our obnoxious moaning on a high volume that could've rattled the whole house and even Sir Reggie who was curled up in his dark office downstairs, we both knew right then and there Isaac was going to leave very soon like we wanted. Not for a good reason either.
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Sad boy hours part coming up next 🥺🥺.