Just someone who tries to read random books I bought as much as I can before dropping it and buying more books. I also just randomly browse on Tumblr if I’m bored.
But thankfully, we have the wonderful writers and artists who feed us all the Sakuverse goodies. (And we still have a lot more lovable characters present.)
So, thank you to every fic writer, artist, and even those who ask questions in the ZsakuVA inbox. You guys are amazing🫵❤️
But thankfully, we have the wonderful writers and artists who feed us all the Sakuverse goodies. (And we still have a lot more lovable characters present.)
So, thank you to every fic writer, artist, and even those who ask questions in the ZsakuVA inbox. You guys are amazing🫵❤️
(I used different videos from a different ASMRtist, Moonlight Haven to piece the info out. Sorry for the messy organization but feel free to check out their videos if it’s too complicated on mine)
Honestly, I'm pretty sure Andrew’s twin is Darius from “The Mafia Series” on Moonlight Haven’s channel.
In the season one finale of Andrew’s series, “Strict Professor Loves You,” he mentions that his twin studied biomedical science and is probably involved in shady business. After a falling out with their parents, his twin left, and they haven’t been in contact since.
In Moonlight Haven’s mafia video, “The New Recruit,” we’re introduced to Helios’ right-hand man and best friend, Darius, who also studied biomedical science (mentioned in “Infiltration” and “The Mafia Boss’ Plan”).
Helios also said he once had a falling out with a family member and now they don’t keep in touch, which matches what Andrew told us. He further explains how Darius had a rebellious nature to him and takes it that he lived a very sheltered life: “—always being told what to do and how to act and behave and always being compared to someone and told that you’re inferior to them.” (“The New Recruit”, “The Mafia Boss’ Plan”, and “Christmas With Your Strict Professor”)
It was briefly mentioned in the video “Spending Time with the Mafia Boss” that Darius frequents London (where Andrew and Darling live) to figure some things out under the possible guise of a business meeting which Helios guesses is to ‘check up on them’. (Just throwing it out there—Darius used to live and study in London, maybe even with Andrew, if he really is the twin.)
It was also said that Darius has something (a package) very important to give to someone, to the point of entrusting it only to the person he trusts most, then getting angry at Helios for just leaving it in his office with the door unlocked—because he can’t risk it being stolen.
Although faint, you can hear Helios saying, “—You’re talking about the/your brother, right…?” which might mean it’s for Andrew.
And even though Darius refuses to elaborate to Helios about who this person is, he mentions it’s someone he was (or is) very close with. (“The Mafia Boss’ Plan”)
Also, fun thing to point out: when Listener (Rookie/Boy) and Helios entered Darius’ office, he speculates that the architecture and general style of the room don’t just feel like Darius but also someone else—as if there’s a part of another person he brought along with him, although he admits he may just be looking into things.
He mentions the design is “—oddly chaotic within itself yet the symmetricality and organization is almost deathly precise.”
“And the color scheme—it’s so professional. The hues/use of light and dark brown paint…If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought that this was a professor’s office—but the lining of black paint here gives off a sense of rebellion in its own way. Very fitting of Darius, in my opinion.“ (“The Mafia Boss’ Plan”)
Despite their estranged relationship, it’s obvious Darius still cares for his brother, enough to incorporate his style into his office and highlighting just how important this package—which from what I can faintly hear during the ‘Choose Your Destiny’ moment, is a letter—is to him.
With all this, I’m confident Darius is Andrew’s twin. Maybe we’ll see him at the finale of Andrew’s series, maybe we won’t. But, who knows?
Really sorry for the complicated and messy explanation. Either way, I hope to see our beloved professor again with all the loving moments for one last time. From professor to lover, he’ll always hold a special place in my heart, as the very first ASMR audio I ever listened to, three years ago.🥹
Hiiii!~ :DD
I just can't believe no one has asked for this yet, but ISAAC AND PICKLE GARDENING TOGETHER!! <333 I think they would be just ADORABLE!! Maybe both of them will have a little picnic together near the lake... (I think Saku mentioned that he owned one...) Pickle making a flower crown for Isaac :33 And Isaac reminiscing about his mother!
Enjoy The Silence
Isaac Rhoades x Reader
Warnings: grief
Isaac was a little nervous. He was very nervous, actually.
There was a strikingly clear reason why he always hired a gardener. There were two reasons, buried in the ground under the little blue flowers that grew by the headstones.
Why he had agreed to this, he did not know. The thought of having you in the garden — the garden, the one where he had lost half his heart and the majority of his years alive — made his stomach clench in painful knots. It made him anxious, threatening to pull him into the very depths of a panic attack because only the possibility of losing you to a shot fired from the trees beyond made his eyes tear up as a painful lump formed in his throat.
You had asked him for it, though. You had suggested tending to the delicate blue flowers together — with your eyes glinting in compassion, begging him to allow you this grand gesture of affection that would ease his pain like the first time you had visited their graves together.
His blood had frozen. The firm, absolute, and forever unchanging ‘no’ stuck on his tongue as he took in your expression of gentle hope.
I can’t live my life trapped in this house, Isaac. I can’t, no matter how much I love you.
He swallowed thickly and conceded.
You had been so happy, turning the whole day into a little event to ease his mind from the heaviness of tending to the flowers growing on his family’s graves. There was a picnic basket, complete with a blanket, standing by in the kitchen for when you were done. The very idea of sitting outside — waiting like sitting ducks to be shot — made him shudder.
He dreaded this day. He hated that he did.
“Ready?” you asked, smiling brightly at him as you pulled on gloves for gardening. You had had many occasions to demonstrate your varying skill with plants, although you supposed ridding the flowers of weeds and trimming the bush a little was different from tending to houseplants.
He stood staring at the front door, trying to hide the shaking of his hands.
“Isaac?”
“Do we have to?” he whispered, the vulnerability seeping into his tone wiping the smile from your face. He sounded close to tears. “Do we have to? I— I’m so scared something might— might—”
You pulled off the gloves, letting them fall to the ground. “Hey, look at me,” you said, resting a hand on his cheek. Isaac turned to face you, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears of fear and, you supposed knowing him, shame as well. “We don’t have to do anything if it hurts you this much, sweetheart.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, leaning into your touch. “What if I can’t?” he croaked, tears escaping his eyes. “What if I’m never ready? What if this always happens? What if I can’t keep it together at the thought of us going outside? I— I don’t want to lose you. I can’t—”
“Isaac, look at me,” you requested, raising your other hand to his cheek as well. Your fingers played with the strands of hair at his temples, thumbs wiping away the tears trailing down his cheeks. When he slowly opened his eyes, searching your gaze with eyes full of sorrow, you continued, “It’s alright if you’re not ready. It’s okay. Overcoming trauma is hard, I get that — I know that. Healing takes a lot of time, love. The important thing is that you try, and I know you do. You’re so brave every day for me, love, and I will never leave you because of this. Alright? Never, Isaac. It doesn’t matter how long it takes, I know you are doing your best.”
“My best is not enough sometimes,” he admitted quietly, the words tasting like defeat.
“Don’t even think that!”
“But it’s true! Look at me,” he cried, stepping away from your soft touch to bury his face in his hands. “I can’t even keep my word because I’m so scared. I— the fear feels like it’s eating me up, gnawing away and keeping me paralyzed. I’m forever stuck in this— this house because they are outside and I can’t— I can’t tear myself away and nowhere else is safe.”
Your heart shattered. “Come here,” you said, keeping your voice airily light. It cut through the spiral of his thoughts like a knife, and he crashed into your open arms as if they were his lifeline. You held onto him tightly, running your fingers through his hair in a gesture you knew helped him calm down. “Small steps, Isaac. Yeah?”
“Steps?” he asked incredulously, his voice muffled against the fabric of your shirt. “I’ve been immobile for years!”
“That’s not true, love. These things take time,” you said, listening to his breathing slowly even out. The tears stopped, although the patch of wetness on your shoulder would remain a moment longer.
Isaac slowly raised his head, wiping at his eyes. “Sorry,” he said, his voice strained. He hesitated before retrieving his phone and checking the CCTV. “Just give me a moment, yeah?”
You blinked in surprise. “A moment for what?” you asked, already knowing the answer.
“A moment to make sure nobody is there to— to hurt us. I checked already, but I want to make sure again before we go out.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, Pickle.”
“I don’t want to push you, Isaac. Maybe it’s best if we put this off—”
“No! I need to do this,” he said, his tone firm despite the tremor in his voice. “I need to! I can’t stand this anymore. I need to face this. I— I don’t feel ready, but— but I want to.” His eyes roamed over the footage, analyzing every rustling of leaves, checking for anything out of the ordinary. There was nothing. Isaac swallowed, closing his eyes to compose himself before plunging into his deepest fear. “You’ll stay by my side, yes?”
Your gaze softened. “Of course,” you said, taking his hand and squeezing it reassuringly. “I promise.”
He bent down, picking up your gloves. “Alright,” he breathed, waiting for you to reappear at his side with the picnic basket and gardening tools in hand. “Alright, alright.” His hand hovered above the doorknob.
I want you to know your parents would have been proud of the man you have become, little one.
There was no big event. There was no gunshot — thank god. There was no sound out of the ordinary.
The birds continued chirping. The sun, although occasionally hidden behind a cloud, did not change color. Nothing changed at all as you both stepped outside. Isaac was weary, his eyes darting across the garden in search of something. He barely realized that he was outside at all, that he did it, with your hand tightly clasped in his while his other rested on the gun he couldn’t feel safe without.
“They don’t look so bad. I think a little trimming on the sides is all they need. Look, there are barely any weeds.”
Isaac looked down. After all these years, reading the names on the headstones still knocked the breath out of him. It was also the instance in which he realized — fully and without argument — that he was outside with the love of his life. The realization made him squeeze your hand harder, the feeling of having something incredibly valuable in a place where they were not safe was nearly enough to plunge him into a panic again.
But he had also faced his fear. He had kept his word, well, half of it. The first step was done, now he only needed to follow the path.
“You alright?”
He thought for a moment. “Yes,” he replied, surprised that he meant it despite his heart racing. “Do you want to trim or free them from the weeds?”
Gardening was surprisingly relaxing. You were carefully ridding the beautiful bush of flowers from its outreaching branches while Isaac plucked at the weeds growing beneath it on his knees. The conversation turned light, and for the first time in a decade, he forgot the overwhelming fear that came with being beneath a clear sky and allowed himself to chuckle fondly at something you said.
He paused, practically feeling the flower petals glow with happiness.
Yes, mom. I miss you too. It hurts every day that you’re not here — I miss you so much it burns a hole in my chest when I breathe. It has gotten easier with them. I love them, and I wish more than anything that you could have met the person who fills the void in my chest with love. I miss you every day. Tell Dad I miss him too and give Grandpa a big hug. I think I missed my chance when he was still here. I love you, take care.
“Isaac?”
He had not even realized that he was crying. Silent tears streamed down his cheeks in rivers that felt like they would never end. His hands were balled into fists, clutching at the earth beneath the flower bush, reminiscent of the time you had prompted him to talk to them for the first time.
God, it still hurt so much. Why did it still hurt so much?
“I’m fine,” he said, wiping at his eyes. It was useless, the tears would not stop falling. “I— I haven’t— the flowers and— I miss them. I miss them so much.”
You knelt beside him, gathering him into your arms again. Isaac slumped against your side, his blurry vision rising towards the headstones with the names of his family. The sight made his lower lip wobble, the feeling of drowning in his grief and sorrow overwhelming. He thought he would have if you had not been there to hold him together.
There was a reason he had never allowed himself to feel the extent of his pain when he was alone. He could not have born it. The misery and grief of his life would have crushed him, leaving him untethered in an unforgiving world with people who relied on him, expecting him to carry on his grandfather’s legacy like he had promised he would.
He had never allowed himself to feel the extent of his loss, and now that he knew he could — no need to hide from it behind whiskey glasses and ceiling-high towers of paper — it devoured him whole. He let it because he knew you were there to anchor him.
The flowers were done, and once the sun had begun its descent and noon turned into late evening, you found yourself spread out on the picnic blanket by the lake, plucking the daisies with the longest stems as Isaac’s head rested on your thigh.
He was eating one of the chocolate muffins you had baked, his tears long since dried. There was a slight downturn to his lips, betraying his somber thoughts despite the peaceful scenery around you.
“She hated baking,” he admitted quietly.
You halted your weaving, glancing at him. Instead of the bleak, sorrowful expression you had been expecting, there was a fond smile on his face.
“I used to make cookies with my father. We would— we would spend hours decorating them with icing and putting little designs on them. My mother liked cooking. She— she tried teaching me, but I wasn’t very interested. I mean, I was a kid. I preferred baking, but— You know, I wish I would have listened to her more. I wish I— I had appreciated them all more and now—” he broke off with a sigh, the fond memory charing at the edges as he was reminded of the harsh reality that they were gone. He would never again roll out dough with his father, or listen to his mother’s gentle instructions on how to make the perfect Goya.
You finished the flower crown, turning it around in your hands before placing it on Isaac’s head gently. He looked up at you, the expression of melancholy fading as he gave you a sweet smile.
The front door fell shut behind you, and for a long, silent moment both you and Isaac simply stood in the entrance hall. You were dripping onto the tiles, hair sticking to your face as the creeping cold seeped into your skin. The clothes you had worn for the outing clung to your body, the suit jacket damp and heavy as it was soaked with rainwater.
Isaac looked like a mess. His white shirt had turned gray, nearly see-through. You caught a good look at the muscles of his stomach and quickly raised your gaze to look at his gorgeous face, flushed slightly red from the exertion of running back home once the sky opened up.
He ran a hand through his hair, wiping the wet strands back to keep them from falling into his eyes. He looked at you, equally taking in your wet hair and following the droplets of water trailing down your face and hitting the floor.
The house was silent. Your eyes met, and you both burst into a howl of laughter.
“Shit, did you see that?” you asked between breaths, eyes wide at the absurdity of walking out on a sunny afternoon and coming back not an hour later dripping.
“I felt it, Pickle. We might as well have jumped into a river. I told you we should have taken the car!”
You rolled your eyes. The walk had been fun, despite the rain. It had been just what you needed, watching the summer slowly fade from the world around you and greet the cold serenity of autumn.
Isaac took your hand, tugging you along through the house. “We’re dripping everywhere,” you protested, but he paid you no mind, still giggling.
It was refreshing to see this side of him. You loved witnessing him getting playful, loosening up a little as the responsibility on his shoulders weighed a little less heavily and he allowed himself to slip away into these brief moments of carefreeness with you.
He led you straight to the pool and had you known how to swim, you were sure he would have pushed you into the water. As it was, he walked around to the large stairway leading into the water and gently tugged you into the part of the pool where you could stand.
“We’re still dressed!” you said, complaints rendered superfluous by the large smile on your face secretly telling him how much you were enjoying this.
“The clothes are wet anyway,” he said, glancing at you. The water reached your shoulders, but you were completely relaxed, ducking your head under the surface to brush back your hair. He let go of your hand once you resurfaced, loosening his tie and letting it float on the surface. Next was his shirt, and then he unbuckled his belt.
You watched him, keenly interested as he shed his clothes one piece at a time until only his boxers remained. You had shrugged off the suit jacket before getting too distracted by Isaac’s little show.
“Like the view?” he asked with a knowing smirk.
You were transfixed by his body, his muscles flexing as he started teasing you. He made your mouth water, eyes following his every movement until you could take it no longer and bit your lip, beckoning him towards you.
“Are you tired of the water already?” he asked, taking a deep breath as your hand trailed over his chest, tracing his muscles. “Or are you looking for another type of entertainment, dear?”
“I think you know the answer to that,” you breathed, wrapping an arm around his chest and burying your face in his neck to trail kisses over his skin while the other sunk lower, fingers tracing over his stomach until they barely dipped below the edge of his boxers.
Isaac sighed, crooking his head to the side as you kissed his yaw, his hands gripping your waist securely. “Am I that enchanting?” he asked, drawing back a little to shoot you a sly smile.
“You know you are, my knight.”
Your hands trailing over his body made him shiver. He was drunk on your touch, imagining where else your skilled fingers might caress, imagining the feeling of your feather-light touch where he needed to feel you most. The water did nothing to hide the stiffness of his cock, and judging by the smirk on your face, you had noticed as well.
“Someone’s eager,” you observed, earning a groan from Isaac.
“As if you aren’t,” he countered, leaning close to you and allowing his breath to fan across your neck as he whispered, “I can see how your pupils are blown wide. Don’t play coy with me, darling.”
You palmed his hard cock over the wet fabric clinging to him. Isaac could not suppress his groan, chasing your touch with little thrusts of his hips. “I think you’re desperate for me, darling,” you whispered, feeling him twitch at the low purr of your voice in his ear.
He cursed quietly, drawing away from you with a herculean effort. “Yeah, I am,” he said, voice husky with desire. But he wanted to do this properly, and having you writhing in the water — with the possibility of your fear of it making you uncomfortable — would not do.
He laid you down on the sun lounge, the wide mattress designed for two. He found you lounging on it often, glancing at his figure in the pool, muscles flexing as he swam. You did a horrible job at hiding your infatuation, nor your desire as you kept your eyes on him, the book in your lap forgotten while you thirsted after him.
“You comfortable?” he asked, hands roaming over your clothed body, the fabric soaked with water slowly beginning to make you shiver despite the comfortable warmth around the pool.
“Yeah,” you said, idle fingers running over Isaac’s chiseled chest, your mouth watering at the sight before you. His hard cock strained against his boxers, and you squirmed impatiently. Your palm brushed over it, and you bit your lips as he twitched again, a low hiss tearing out of his chest.
“I want to take these clothes off you,” he said, looking at you with hooded eyes, pleasure swirling in them. You were sure he was just as impatient to fill you. “May I?”
You lifted your hips, and Isaac wasted no time, exposing all of you to him and latching onto your lips the moment the last hateful piece of fabric hiding your beautiful body from his view hit the ground with a wet squelch.
He shrugged out of his boxers, teasing you with the head of his cock until you spread your legs further, a lewd moan slipping out as he eased himself in, keeping his hips steady as he felt you squeeze around him.
Isaac heaved out a breath, hands balling into fists against the mattress as he fought against the need to thrust into you, fill you up so good that your legs wrapped around his hips, dragging his cock along the deepest recesses of you as you clung to him, breathy sounds falling from your lips unbidden that he would hear reverberating in his mind for a long time to come.
You bucked your hips, urging him deeper, and he could not swallow down his groan. Your arm wrapped around his neck, guiding his head down so you could kiss him, and he began thrusting into you, slow at first, making sure you felt every inch of him stretching you out deliciously before pulling out to the tip, and slamming himself inside you again.
“Ah— Isaac! Shit, ah—” you moaned, head lolling back as he picked up the paces, knocking the breath out of you and pulling little sounds from you and fucked you harder, fighting to keep his eyes open despite the pleasure coiling in his abdomen trying to make them roll back — just so he could see your blissed out expression, your mouth falling open in with a chocked-off whimper as he reached places that made you mewl.
“Darling,” he cooed, “Darling, dear— hah—” He knew he was close, your tightness gripping him like a vice, your walls pulling taut around him like you were trying to suck him deeper making him feel when you went over the edge, coming with a cry of his name, hands tangled in his hair and pulling him towards you.
He buried his face in your shoulder, coming with a final stutter of his hips as he muffled his moan against your skin. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close as he came undone, shaking against you while you tried to catch your breath.
“Oh, you’re heavenly,” he murmured, raising his head to kiss you.
Four months late to the party, but I managed it in the end. I had the idea for the twist randomly two-ish months ago, and stubbornly refused to write the fic since then. Thank you to @chilliesillie & @kieran-rhoades for the idea.
“Isaac, are you listening to me?” Asirel asked, eyeing the man on the other side of the desk with a deep frown. It was not like Isaac to be distracted, especially when they were going over cases. Still, since he had been here, Isaac continuously glanced at his phone like a teenager waiting for a reply from their crush. “What is the matter?”
He did not even have the shame of looking guilty. Isaac merely shook his head, biting his lip nervously as he unlocked his phone again, checked his calls, then messages, turned up the ringtone, and locked it, sparing Asirel a brief look before returning to the files in his hands.
“I’m waiting for a call,” he answered drily.
Asirel suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. This would not do.
“From whom?” he asked, setting aside the papers of the case and turning to his laptop. He had his ways to find people anywhere in the world. Whoever it was Isaac was checking up on -- and Asirel had a sneaking suspicion -- he would find them in no time.
He did not bother waiting for a reply before starting to type, images of CCTV cameras pulling up on his screens depicting you walking down a crowded avenue, no doubt returning from an investigation. That had not been twenty minutes ago.
“It looks like your pet project is busy,” he commented, relishing the dark scowl Isaac shot him at his nickname for you. In truth, sometimes nothing delighted Asirel more than teasing him a little for his obvious affection for you. He had warned him of it many times, reminding him that he was setting up his heart to be broken.
In their line of work, the shot delivered by their enemies was always aimed at the heart. It was why Asirel prided himself on not having one -- no affections meant no weakness. Isaac had followed that example in perfection for many years, and Asirel was sorrowful watching his creeping demise. It was only a matter of time now.
“They are not my ‘Pet,’ Asirel,” Isaac said, his tone venomous, “and if you call them that again, I will remind you that it is well within my capabilities to abandon this case and any other you have me working on and leave you to fend for yourself.”
Asirel did not even blink, an amused grin adorning his face. Isaac was a delight to meet again in person, if not for the valuable insight he brought to the table, then for his very unique character.
“Are you that worried?” he asked instead, tearing his eyes away from the screen -- and your lone figure walking down a smaller, more secluded alley, no doubt on the way to where you had parked your car -- and settling on Isaac.
His jaw was clenched, the lines on his face rigid as he wrung his hands and checked his phone again. “They usually check in with me after talking with a client,” he admitted in a murmur, “and they did not reply to my messages.”
“Maybe they are driving?” Asirel asked, his idea immediately disproven as he pulled up another tab. The car was still parked, standing prettily by the edge of the road you had left it on, and you were not in it.
“The car hasn’t moved,” Isaac said, “I don’t know what they could be doing for this amount of time. They should be in it by now. They should be driving by now, Asirel. Where are they?”
“Well,” Asirel replied, watching you walk into the alley but never coming out on the other side. Of course, this very street would have a blindspot for his surveillance technology. “It looks like they got held up in an alley off Excelsior Road.”
Isaac was on his feet in an instant. He shuffled his papers into the folder, making them stick out around the margin but not caring about it in the slightest.
Asirel watched him gather his things, stuffing the papers in the leather briefcase he had brought before turning to him with wide eyes, his breathing elevated and his jaw so rigorously tense, he feared Isaac would break down in tears right there in his office. If he looked closely enough, he was sure he could see Isaac’s hands shaking.
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, leaving his coffee untouched on Asirel’s desk as he stormed out of the room.
“Call me about the case,” Asirel called after him, only half-heartedly believing Isaac was in any state to comprehend what he had told him. The thought crossed his mind that it was probably not the best idea to let him drive in this state, but it was already too late for that anyway.
Asirel’s gaze fixed on the CCTV camera and the alley only it allowed him a small glimpse into.
In truth, Isaac had every right to be concerned. Asirel got the feeling that things looked bleak for you.
Isaac ran down Excelsior Road, his heart beating frantically as he got closer and closer to the alley Asirel had told him you had walked into.
You were fine. You had to be. He did not know what he would do if you weren’t.
He felt sick to his stomach, nausea churning in his stomach from worry and doubts and fear.
Why had he let you go alone? Why did he not insist on only doing cases together when you had pushed him for more independence? What possessed him to let you wander off alone? Why had he set up the possibility for you to be hurt?
This was his fault. His fault.
He was supposed to look after you. He had promised you he would protect you.
Isaac called out your name, bracing a hand against the wall of the alley as his legs threatened to give out. His instincts kicked in, his other hand hovering over the gun he kept on him as his eyes darted around, assessing the location he found himself in.
There was no sound other than the rushing blood he heard in his ears and the thundering heart he felt against his ribcage.
He took hesitating steps inside the alley, his gaze roaming over the ground in search of anything that would tell him you had been here.
His heart seized painfully at the first drop of blood he saw before him. Isaac blanched, raising his gaze slowly to look at the large streak of blood on the ground further ahead, leading to a nook in the alley.
Time slowed. His body felt heavy, and Isaac had to fight against this sudden force trying to drag him to the ground with every fiber of his being. He moved, creeping towards the blood. His ears were ringing.
A voice in his head screamed at him to stay alert, to keep a hand above the gun, to grip it, to pull it, but he paid no mind to it. He was an easy target, he knew. Anyone could seize this opportunity and end him, he knew. He just didn’t care.
“Pickle?” Isaac rasped, stepping around the blood and turning the corner.
Your eyes met. Isaac wanted to sob in relief at having found you. Then his gaze settled on the large gash on your neck and the blood staining your skin, running down your body in a steady stream -- and he found himself crashing to the ground beside you.
“Pickle!” he screamed, his eyes darting across your body. His hands hovered above you, not daring to touch lest he should hurt you. He did not know what to do. Too many things raced through his mind. How much blood had you lost? How deep was the gash?
Isaac felt his heart threatening to burst, his lungs burning. When had he started holding his breath? He could not breathe. You were hurt, and it was his fault. You were covered in blood, and it was his fault.
What could he do to alleviate your pain? What could he do to help you?
You mumbled something indecipherable, your head lulling to the side with a groan. Your eyelashes fluttered, and Isaac got the dreadful feeling that if you closed them, it would be the last time he would see you staring back at him.
“Hey,” he tried, his voice shaking with the crippling fear of losing you. “Hey, hey, Pickle. I’m here. It’s alright. It’s alright!”
Isaac rested a hand on your cheek, brushing his thumb over your skin and further smearing the blood on it. The sight made him feel sick. He gave you a reassuring smile anyway.
“Don’t close your eyes, dear,” he demanded, his other hand fumbling in the pocket of his suit jacket and pulling out a cloth handkerchief. It felt instinctual as he pressed it against your throat, trying to stop the bleeding.
You groaned again, dizzily looking up at him. “‘sac,” you murmured hoarsely, lifting a hand to wrap around his wrist as the other came to rest on his face. You brushed your thumb under his eye, wiping away the tears he had not realized were escaping him. “Love you,” you said, the exhaustion creeping up on you again.
You felt drained. Your head was spinning, and your strength was steadily slipping until your grip on Isaac loosened, and all you could do was look up at him deliriously, trying to abide by his increasingly frantic request for you to keep your eyes open.
“Don’t do this to me,” he begged, holding you tighter. His free hand cradled your cheek, running through your hair soothingly to give you as much comfort as he could.
He knew he had no plan. He had not called for an ambulance. He had not called anyone, too stunned and too far into his panic to think clearly. There was no escape from this. Even if you held on for longer than seven minutes, an event that was getting more unlikely with every second that passed, you had lost too much blood. Your wound was fatal, he knew.
You were slipping through his fingers.
“No,” Isaac cried, tears clouding his vision until he could no longer see your face, only red, red, red from all the blood you were stained with. “No, stay. Stay with me! What can I-- How-- Please. Please!”
You were fading, and as your eyelids fluttered and you attempted a smile for him, he knew that would be the last time.
“Don’t you dare!” he pleaded, shaking you a little as your eyes closed.
They did not reopen.
“Don’t-- don’t you-- don’t--” he stuttered, gathering you in his arms instead. “No, no,” he continued, his eyes wide as he trembled, feeling your warm blood staining the front of his shirt. “Don’t-- no, no-- can’t be-- you can’t-- no, no.”
You were ripped out of his arms suddenly. Isaac was too far in panic and shock to fully comprehend what was going on.
He saw Asirel leaning you back carefully against the wall before his eyes settled on him for a moment. Asirel pulled out a vial filled with something blood-red. It blended perfectly with your blood as he dropped it onto your skin, aiming for the gash in your neck.
Isaac merely watched uncomprehendingly. He wanted to crawl over to you, gather you in his arms, and lie there until the earth stopped spinning.
The vial was empty. Asirel stepped back, keeping his eyes locked on your slumped figure before finding Isaac again. “You owe me,” he said.
Your eyes shot open. Sitting up straight, you curled into yourself as painful coughs wracked your body.
Isaac watched you speechless, hesitatingly reaching out to you as if to make sure you were real.
You took his hand, squeezing it comfortingly as you tried to catch your breath.
He was on you in a heartbeat, wrapping his arms around you, holding you close to his heart, and burying his head in your hair.
“I love you,” he cried, slowly returning to reality as he felt you breathing and alive in his arms. “I love you so much. Please don’t ever do this to me again. Oh, I thought I had lost you-- I thought you-- Love, Love, don’t do this to me again.”
Asirel watched the scene before him. A melancholy smile made its way onto his lips. He knew it would only be a matter of time before something like this happened again.
What game would he need to play to get more vampire blood, he wondered.
Hi... :( The weather here has been gloomy and it's been raining heavily lately. I get really sad in this kind of weather; I need my sunlight. :( Could you please write a comfort fic with any of the characters for me Please?🥺👉👈
Sending you my sun, Isla. I much prefer the rain.
Starry Night
Isaac Rhoades x Reader
You looked out of the window, gazing dreamily up at the moon. The night sky was crystal clear. You could almost feel the warm midnight breeze of summer on your skin from just looking outside.
That was all you could do, however. Look.
At first, being stuck in the enormous house Isaac called his home had sounded like an excellent offer.
You kept busy. You had a job to do, and although it was not particularly mentally challenging, it still filled you with a sense of purpose. The library had quickly become your favorite place, and you had read more books in the last two months than you had ever held in your hands up until that point in your life.
Isaac was a blessing in himself. He was kind and attentive, if cold most of the time. It made life a bit lonely, considering he was the only human connection you had now.
Because he said you were not allowed to leave the house.
“Never?” you had asked in the first week, wanting to know the details of your employment.
“Never,” he had answered. “There is no need to.”
“What about—”
“Never.”
You had accepted it without complaint.
As you looked at the starry sky through the glass, you could not help but regret it now. Above all, you missed looking up at the sky and you longed to simply lay down in the beautiful stretch of grass you were doomed only to look at to be enticed by the marvels above your head.
“What are you thinking about?” Isaac asked from his place on the sofa, a glass of whiskey in his hand as he skimmed through a folder tiredly. It had not become a rare occurrence for you to share your evenings with him ever since the kiss.
You sighed, leaning your head against the window. “The stars,” you muttered sadly.
“I can get you astronomy books if you’d like,” he offered. “I am sure we have plenty of documentaries—”
“I only want to look at them,” you said, turning to face him. “I don’t care about the science behind it. I just— they’ve always been there, you know? When I thought I couldn’t possibly go on, sometimes I just looked up and saw how insignificant all this truly is. It’s comforting, in a way. The briefness of life, I mean.”
Isaac was silent for a moment. “I can’t let you go out,” he said finally.
“I know, but I miss the sky.”
“Wait,” he added, putting his folder aside and downing the rest of his drink, “I have other ways. Come on, I think you’ll like it.”
You were standing in front of the indoor swimming pool, eyeing the inflatable mattress wearily. You had not had the time to learn how to swim and despite the apparent stability of the thing, you did not trust it. “I don’t think—” you began.
“Relax,” Isaac said with a chuckle, pressing a few buttons on the control panel near the door. “I’m with you, and I’ll be right by your side if something happens.”
There was a loud creak as the roof of the swimming pool slowly moved, revealing a delicate glass so spotless that you wondered how it was kept in such excellent condition. Your jaw dropped, the vastness of the roof allowing you to stare at a large portion of the night sky.
“Impressive, yes?” he asked, taking off his tie and socks. “I had it installed not long ago. There is something magical about looking into infinity while floating on the water. One day I’ll teach you to swim if you’d like, and you can experience it for yourself. For now, though” — he pulled the mattress towards the edge of the swimming pool, offering you a hand to get on — “after you, Pickle. You’re safe with me, don’t worry.”
Any hesitation you had about it vanished as you relaxed into the plastic, Isaac’s arm securely wrapped around your waist as you both floated over the water. He had turned off all the lights, leaving only the low blue illuminating the edges of the swimming pool. You could see the sky perfectly.
“If you teach me how to swim,” you said, earning a low hum from Isaac, “I’ll teach you how to stargaze properly. On a hill and all. One day.”
You could not see his faint smile but felt his arm tighten around you. “Thank you.” he said, missing the shooting star as he looked down at you.
It did not matter. He would not have known what else to wish for anyway.
hii vic, I love your writings sm, they’re extremely detailed and you write the skv characters well in-character 🫶🏽
nsfw (or sfw, up to you) fic idea for Isaac getting jealous after meeting a client who’s checking out/flirting with pickle? 🤭
Jealousy
Isaac Rhoades x Reader
“Isaac, something's wrong with the—” you began, pushing open the door to his study only to find him sitting behind his desk, raising an eyebrow at you as the man in front of him turned in his seat to look at you.
You had completely forgotten about the client and you cleared your throat, ducking your head in embarrassment at the disturbance.
“Pardon me, the meeting slipped my mind. I apologize again—”
“Now who’s this gem?” the man asked with a smile, walking up to you and offering you a hand to shake. He was charming, his dark green suit dotted with specks of gold that betrayed his somewhat extravagant taste. He could not have been older than Isaac. “No worries, we were just finishing up actually.”
You took his hand, desperate to salvage what was left of your pride and stop this interaction from being awkward. You could feel his eyes on you, checking you out, and you cleared your throat, dropping his hand and taking a step back.
The scrutiny of his gaze and the embarrassment of having barged into a private meeting had turned you shy.
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Isaac scowl as he stood up. If looks could kill, you were certain the two of you would need to cover up a murder now. “This is my partner, and yes, I believe we are done. Allow me to accompany you—”
“You should join us next time,” the man said to you, giving you another once over before smiling kindly again, “I think my case could profit from your skills and I would love to see you again.”
“Allow me,” Isaac’s tone was sharper now, catching the man’s attention, “to accompany you to the door.” He was nearly glaring at him now, holding onto the last shreds of his professionalism to keep himself from snapping at him for daring to look at you, his partner.
The man looked surprised for a moment, his gaze flickering between you and Isaac before he hummed in understanding, slightly nodding his head. “Ah, I see,” he said, inclining his head towards you, “Pardon. I shall leave you to it, then.”
“Good day,” you replied politely, holding the door of the study open for him as Isaac saw him off.
“He had some nerve,” Isaac muttered once the door fell shut. “Are you alright?”
“Of course,” you answered, letting out a noise of surprise as he crashed his lips to yours, wrapping his arms around your waist to hold you firmly against his chest. One of his hands found its way to the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair as he deepened the kiss. You were breathless by the time you broke apart. “What was that for?” you panted.
“A reminder,” Isaac said, continuing to look at you with dark eyes. His stare made you shiver.
Deciding to amuse yourself, you narrowed your eyes at him. “Reminding me of what, exactly?”
You did not need any of your training to see that Isaac was jealous, but as you looked at him, cheeks faintly tinted red and lips almost in a pout, you could not help but enjoy this newfound side of him.
“That you’re mine,” he whispered, reaching up a hand to caress your cheek. “You’re mine as long as you want me, Pickle, and I hope that message came across.”
You chuckled, brushing your lips against his hand. “I think it did,” you said, laughing at his self-satisfied hum. “It could not possibly be that the great Isaac Rhoades—”
“‘The great?’”
You shushed him, keeping him from interrupting you by placing a finger on his lips.
“That the great Isaac Rhoades, renowned PI, and my beloved partner, as well as my most dashing knight” — you could see the amusement in his eyes as he kissed your finger — “is jealous?”
He took your hand, intertwining your fingers as he tilted his head, a teasing smile on his face. “What if I am?” he said.
You laughed, shaking your head fondly before squeezing his hand and pulling him into another kiss. “Then I would tell you that you have absolutely nothing to worry about,” you said, smiling warmly at him and making sure he understood your sincerity.
“I know,” he said softly, placing a kiss on your forehead. “I don’t want to risk losing you, to anyone or anything.”
“You won’t,” you promised before taking his arm and guiding him into the kitchen, clearing your throat as you pointed towards the stove. “Now take a look at this, my knight. I wanted to tell you earlier that it’s not working and I don’t know why.”
“Maybe it’s jealous of the oven,” Isaac said, glancing at you.
Hey girl your writing is AMAZING and so CHEFS KISS.
Could you please write an NSFW of Isaac and listener on listeners birthday? (Tots not my birthday 🫣) and Isaac being the dominant one and all 🤭
Happy (belated) birthday. I hope you had a lovely day. Thank you for the request!
Birthday Gift (NSFW)
Isaac Rhoades x Reader
The door to the bedroom falls shut silently. Isaac is on you in an instant, cupping your cheeks and connecting his lips to yours in a soft kiss. The gentleness he pours into his movements catches you off guard, not expecting the infinite care you feel in his touch when the heat between you two is so palpable.
Isaac has been teasing you with soft squeezes and lingering lips all day, riling you up until you could not take any more and demanded that he follow up on his whispered promises. After all, it is incredibly unfair to tease you like that on your birthday. Judging by the tent in his slacks, he has run out of patience as well.
Slowly, he backs you towards your shared bed, keeping his lips locked with yours. His steps are slow and measured. He seemingly has all the time in the world to guide you backwards as if caught in a dance, until your legs hit the bedpost and a moan escapes you, muffled by his lips.
Your eagerness makes Isaac smirk. “I think you’ll like the surprise I have for you,” he whispers, looking at you with dark eyes. His pupils are blown wide with lust, the sight of his already disheveled state causing a thrill of excitement to shoot through you. With his gentle push against your shoulder, you fall onto the bed.
Isaac ravishes you so well, that the knot in your stomach tightens just thinking about what he will do to you.
“Is it really a surprise though?” you tease, backing up on the bed to lay on the mattress properly. “I already know what you— you will—” Isaac smiles mischievously before joining you on the bed, propping himself up to lean over you, his face mere inches from yours. His closeness and the intensity of his gaze make you stumble over your words, suddenly nervous. His proximity has that effect on you, especially when you can feel his soft breath fawning across your face.
“Yes?” he tilts his head to purr into your ear. “When you already know what?”
“When I—” you begin, caught off by his mouth on your neck. He places open-mouthed kisses against your sensitive skin, one of his hands finding itself tangled in your hair while the other trails down your clothed chest, teasing you with soft touches. When Isaac finds the spot that has you squirming under him, he nibbles on it, encouraged further by the moan that escapes you. “When—” He sucks on it gently, making you lose your train of thought again. Isaac moves his lips to your pulse point, humming in satisfaction at your elevated heartbeat against them.
“When you what, Pickle?” he asks, ceasing to leave marks on you for a moment to raise his head and look into your hazy eyes. The pleasure clouding your thoughts was his doing, and he took pride in seeing you so undone beneath him. So needy for him. He places a knee in between your legs, nudging them further apart.
“Fuck,” you curse, exhaling shakily as his movement went straight to your core. “When I know what you’ll do next,” you finish. That idea was already disproven. You weren’t used to Isaac being quite so teasing.
“Oh,” he says, amusement coloring his tone as he bends down to pepper kisses on your face, “and you think I’m only going to do the usual and fuck you into the mattress until there are no thoughts left in that beautiful head of yours? On your special day at that? Not a chance.” His filthy words contrast so starkly with his soft kisses that you can’t help but blush, but before you can look away, his fingers take hold of your chin, gently forcing you to keep looking at him. “Today is all about you. I will take my time.”
“Isaac,” you whine, not at all interested in the drawn-out teasing he has just promised you. The need burning within you makes you buck your hips against his knee, running your fingers through his hair and pulling just the way he likes to make his resolve crumble. “Come on, just fuck me already.”
In a heartbeat, Isaac pins your wrists above your head, chuckling at the pout you give him. “None of that,” he says, kissing and sucking on your neck again. “I want you to stay still and relax for me. You don’t need to do anything right now, alright? Can you do that for me?”
His lips on your skin make your eyes flutter shut. “Yeah,” you breathe, resigned to your fate and battling your impatience in favor of just feeling the moment and enjoying Isaac’s touch. It is significantly harder to suppress the urge to wrap your arms around his neck, scratching his back as you turn into putty under his hands.
“Good,” he praises between kisses, “so good for me. So Good. I love you.” His touch trails from your wrists down your arms, moving slowly across your neck until Isaac reaches your chest, working the buttons of your shirt open with skilled fingers.
His words of praise make you shudder, pleasure coiling within you as your shirt falls open and Isaac kisses a trail down your chest until he reaches your stomach. “Love— Love you too,” you sigh, trying not to move your hips against him.
Isaac teases you relentlessly, making you squirm as he caresses your hips with a touch so feather-light it could be imaginary. “I thought I told you to hold still,” he says with a smirk, looking up at you as he places another kiss against your lower belly, hands brushing along your inner thighs in a movement that has you whining in frustration.
“And I thought you wanted to surprise me with a birthday gift,” you say breathlessly, glancing at Isaac kneeling between your spread legs, the sight alone making your mouth water. His hands are still resting on your hips, thumbs tracing small circles into the hollow of your inner thighs. “You are torturing me instead! Come on, please.”
He raises an eyebrow, hands freezing their motion. “Torturing you?” he asks in feigned disbelief, his voice carrying a dangerous undertone. You moan quietly. “We can’t have that now, can we?” Isaac smiles darkly at you. “Spread your legs, then. Further.”
It takes him less than a minute to be buried to the hilt inside of you, stretching you so deliciously it makes you mewl. He barely gives you time to adjust before moving, picking up the pace immediately. “Shit, Isaac—” you gasp, moans tumbling from your lips as he snaps his hips against yours, filling you up and stretching you out.
“Isn’t that what you wanted?” he groans, placing his hand on your stomach and pressing down slightly, feeling himself move inside of you. “Didn’t you want me to fuck you like this? Were you not begging for it? Well, I’m sure you feel me now.”
You hold onto his arms, trying to anchor yourself through the brutal pace he sets in rolling his hips against yours. “Yes,” you breathe, your grip tightening as he hits a spot that makes your toes curl. “Yes, right there. Please.”
Isaac stops moving and you nearly sob in frustration. He reaches toward something by his side and tilts forward, towering over you. “I told you not to move, I believe,” he says darkly, pinning your wrists above your head again. “Guess I’ll have to use my tie to keep you where I want you.”
You glance upwards, watching him wrap his tie around your wrists. The sight of the red fabric tying you up makes your breath hitch, eyes falling shut briefly to savor the feeling of it against your skin, Isaac himself trapping you beneath him. You will never be able to look at that tie without thinking about him inside you again.
“Is this alright?” he whispers suddenly, your eyes opening again to gaze at the soft expression on his face. “Not too tight? How do you feel?”
The genuine concern in his eyes makes your heart melt, warmth spreading across your chest that has nothing to do with the heat curling in your stomach. Isaac makes you feel safe and sometimes that thought alone is enough to bring tears to your eyes. You trust him with all of you, and you know he does the same. “Perfect,” you answer, smiling brightly at him. There is so much you want to tell him, your heart already overflowing with affection for him. Still, you settle on a teasing, “But I’d feel better if you kissed me right now.”
He complies because of course he does, propping himself up on his elbows to kiss you deeply. One of his hands moves to your thigh, shifting it to spread your legs apart before his cock claims you again.
The new angle allows him to reach further into you, tearing even more moans from you as you slowly succumb to the rising tide of pleasure. Isaac increases the pace, fucking into you faster as he can feel your thighs trembling against his sides.
“You’re doing so well,” he says, breaking the kiss to murmur against the skin of your cheek. “Beautiful. You’re so beautiful, I wish you could see yourself like this. All fucked out— just for me. You’re mine. Mine.”
“Isaac—” you moan, feeling yourself reaching your peak of pleasure, “I’m gonna— I need to— please!”
He grabs your waist, keeping it steady as he moves his cock inside you with renewed vigor. “Me too,” he pants, placing his lips on yours again, “It’s alright, let go. Come for me, beautiful. That’s it. Happy Birthday.”
You shudder against him as your high crashes over you, gasping his name as you come on his cock. Isaac bucks his hips a few more times, following soon after with a cry of pure bliss. He pants heavily for a few moments, pulling out slowly before reaching up and freeing your hands from his tie.
Lying down next to you, he observes your heaving chest for a moment. “How are you feeling?” he asks, taking your hand and massaging the spot where his tie had dug into your skin.
“Good. Thank you,” you answer, leaning your forehead against his. “A very special birthday gift, Isaac. You outdid yourself.”
He chuckles, his hand coming to rest on your hip again. “Catch your breath, Pickle. The day isn’t over yet.”
PT 2 TO FASTIDIOUS VALOUR WHERE ISAAC TAKES CARE OF US
Thank you for the request!
Fastidious Valour II
Isaac Rhoades x reader
Part I
Warnings: mentions of physical violence and strangulation
“Here,” Isaac said quietly, holding out a glass of fresh water for you to take. His hand was steady, but you could see the strain on him to keep it that way in the tight grip he had on the glass and the even tighter clench of his jaw.
Your lips quirked upwards briefly in silent thanks. The trembling of your body had yet to cease, despite the soft blanket Isaac had draped over you before rushing to the kitchen to get something for your burning throat. At least with him near to watch over you — protect you — the pressure in your chest had lessened and it was slowly becoming easier to breathe.
Isaac still looked on edge, standing next to the couch you were sitting on as if he were ready to pounce on anything that came too close to you. It was his paranoia taking hold of him again, or improbable anxieties given what had just happened, and the more you seemed to calm down and recover from the attack, the more his composure started to wear thin.
The cold water had eased the ache somewhat and you cleared your throat, speaking with a hoarse voice, “Come, sit next to me.” It made you wince immediately, the pain in your throat flaring anew. On instinct, one of your hands shot up to rest on your neck and you hissed at the contact with the tender flesh.
Isaac was kneeling in front of you in a heartbeat, eyes wide with concern. “No, don’t speak yet,” he said hastily, taking your hands in his own and squeezing them tightly in a gesture that should have been comforting to you, but only expressed his all-consuming worry.
His gaze flickered between your eyes and the bruises already starting to form on your throat. The expression on his face morphed into one of such overwhelming guilt that it made your heart ache.
“What do you need? Heat? Cold?” he rushed out, letting go of your hands to stand in front of you again, “I could make you some tea if that would help. Or get you a heating pad, if you want, or something cold. I could get you an ice cream or just plain ice, maybe that would be better, or—“
You shook your head. As if the string keeping him upright, winding him up more and more had been snapped, Isaac faltered. The usually so confident stance collapsed into a hunch and he looked as if he wanted to make himself as small as possible and be swallowed whole by the ground. You could pinpoint the exact moment his heart cracked by the anguished expression plainly visible on his face. Isaac averted his eyes and nodded, coming to some conclusion of his own.
The dull thuds of you patting the cushions beside you made him look up again. He hesitated, then asked quietly, “Are you sure?” Instead of answering, you leaned forward and took hold of his hands, tugging him down to sit next to you.
As soon as he leaned back on the sofa, you took the blanket from over your shoulders and draped it down over both of you, resting your head on Isaac’s chest and cuddling into his side. He placed his arm around you immediately, holding you close.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, “I broke my promise to you. I promised I would protect you, I promised you would be safe in here with me, I—“ He choked, inhaling shakily.
You turned your head to look up at him and saw tears trailing down his cheeks. Isaac was furiously wiping them away.
“God, I’m pathetic,” he rasped, “I should be the one comforting you. What is this? Fuck.”
Moving to sit up, you moved his hand away and cupped his cheeks, kissing away his tears. “Having you here is enough, I promise,” you whispered, smiling softly, “You make me feel safe, that’s all I need right now.”
Isaac’s tearful gaze softened. “I’ll always be here for you,” he said with such conviction that it sounded like an oath, “and you can always count on me, I swear. I’ll stop at nothing to protect you. I love you more than anything and I’m so sorry,” he rasped, placing his palm tenderly on the cheek reddened by the slap, “I’m so, so sorry. I never meant for this to happen, I should have taken better care—“
You caught him off with a kiss. “Thank you,” you breathed, “and I love you too.” Nuzzling back into his chest, you whispered, “You were there in the end, it’s alright now.”
He placed a kiss on the crown of your head, closing his eyes for a moment to focus on your scent. “I should have been there sooner,” he murmured against your hair, trying to fight off the images of the scene in his office. You were alive, that was all that mattered. You were safe in his arms where he could make sure you were alright, where he could take care of you.
You sighed, nuzzling deeper into his chest. “You were there soon enough, Isaac.”
“Not enough to keep him from hurting you.”
“It was a misunderstanding,” you said, pushing yourself off of his chest to reach for the glass of water on the coffee table. The talking was starting to hurt. “And with your line of work, well I can’t say I blame Vic,” you added.
Betrayal was common, as both of you knew firsthand.
“I can,” Isaac said coldly, recalling the way you were pressed against the shelf with a hand around your neck, wide-eyed and trembling, calling out for him to help. He would not be able to forget soon and he did not know how long it would take for him to be able to look at Vic again without thinking of his hands strangling the person he loved most in the world.
Isaac shook his head to clear his thoughts and got up, leaving the comfort of the blanket. He fixed it back around you, taking the empty glass from your hands. You pouted, missing the warmth against your side already.
Isaac chuckled lightly at your expression. “You’re adorable, Pickle,” he said, watching your pout turn into a scowl at the nickname, “Would you like some tea?” he bent down, joining your foreheads together and brushing a hand over your cheekbone in a gentle caress. “I think it could help with your throat. With honey, maybe?”
You nodded, placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Thank you, my knight of shadow.”
For the sake of drama, let us discard the canon timeline a little…
Vic finds you going through Isaac's files.
Warnings: physical violence against the reader, choking (not the good kind)
Leafing through papers was a welcome change to cleaning. You had gotten so used to the fresh smells of the various cleaning products Isaac kept stocked plentily under the sink, that the dusty scent of the casefiles in your hands made a rush of excitement curse through you. It was a change, it was a mystery. It was something that truly mattered, something that could change somebody’s life. If you worked hard enough, researched thoroughly, thought of every possible outcome, and reasoned your way through the strings of probability, you might even be able to save that life.
This line of work you were only recently allowed to contribute to was finally something solid that stopped you from feeling as if you were only going through the motions each day. It was a breath of fresh air, for which you could not be more grateful. And in truth, working as an assistant to Isaac was the best job you could have hoped for.
The files to his case were strewn about haphazardly on his large mahogany desk. You shook your head, wondering how he managed to find documents in the chaos spread out on the wood.
Your own papers were sorted into neat piles according to the aspect of the case they connected with. The small desk placed at an angle to Isaac’s — “If you are my assistant in this,” Isaac had said, with a fond smile and a twinkle in his eyes, “then it is only right that you should have your own desk, Pickle” — did not leave enough space for chaos, so you had no choice but to sort your evidence if you wanted to have an overview and enough space to take notes.
To both of your surprise, you had started to notice that your cases were intertwined, which meant that you now found yourself leaning over Isaac’s desk while the man himself prepared for a meeting with Vic, shuffling papers into stacks to find the changed testament of the first and hopefully last victim.
“Pity,” Vic’s sharp tone made you jump, knocking down one of the piles you had made of the documents and sending them sprawling across the carpeted floor. Enormered in your work, you must have overheard the front door opening. You turned around in surprise, a comment about his ability to silently sneak up on people dying on your tongue as you saw the dark, furious expression on his face. “I thought he had finally found someone worth his time,” Vic spat, moving from blocking the doorway to approaching you with quick steps.
“What?” you asked in confusion, entirely caught off guard by Vic’s harsh words. You wracked your brain to search for anything that could have been cause for his sudden rage towards you, but you came up empty. “What do you mean?” you asked, but the frown on your face vanished, replaced with a wide eyes look as Vic came uncomfortably close, leaning over you threateningly as if it was your first meeting all over again.
You could see the hatred burning in his eyes, the disgust evident in the twist of his mouth. It made your breath catch in your throat, your heart starting to beat faster in fear. What was going on with him? You could handle yourself, so much was true, but Vic loomed over you effortlessly, outmatching you both in strength and experience. Still, no matter the threat you now suddenly perceived him as, you could not bring yourself to grab one of the sharp objects set on the edge of Isaac’s desk and defend yourself with it.
Vic moved his hand so fast that you hardly registered the slap. Reality hit you as you opened your eyes again, one of your hands braced against the desk to keep yourself upright and your head turned to the side, looking at the shelf of overflowing binders. Your ears were ringing, Vic’s voice sounding as if it came from underwater. The room suddenly felt void of air and you gasped quietly, leaning heavily against the desk that started to feel like the brick wall of a building in a dark alley.
“Don’t play stupid, it doesn’t suit you,” Vic said, gripping the front of your shirt and making you lose your footing. You stumbled and before you could catch yourself, he slammed you into the shelf.
The force of the collision knocked the breath out of you, and a few binders fell to the floor as you scrambled for something to keep yourself upright. “Wait,” you rasped breathlessly as Vic approached again. Your head was ringing and you were sure bruises would form on your back where you had hit the shelf, the ache already making you wince in pain. Your heart was hammering quickly against your ribcage, both from shock and fear. You were beginning to feel lightheaded.
There was no reason for Vic to be doing this and the thought that you did not know how to resolve this clear miscommunication because you did not know what it was about made a new wave of panic crash over you. There was not enough air in your lungs to articulate this eloquently, however.
“Wait, Vic—” you wheezed, but he did not care, raising his hands to your neck and pressing you against the shelf instead. You choked, unable to breathe. On instinct, your hands flew to his wrists, trying to wrench them away from your throat. It was futile, he was stronger than you. His grip was steadfast and unrelenting, crushing you under his force.
You gasped, struggling for air. Vic’s grip on you was unforgiving, choking you with all his supreme strength. “I told you I would end you if you betrayed him,” he growled, the crushing hold on your throat tightening, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Your lungs were burning, chest convulsing through lack of breath. Vic’s words did not make sense in your head and there was no thought other than the overwhelming need for air. Vic must have felt your fluttering heartbeat against the palm of his hands from how deafeningly it sounded in your own ears.
Tears were gathering in your eyes, caused by the fear and panic you felt — helpless again. “Is—” you choked quietly, trying to call for the only person who had ever cared to help you, “Isc—” But your voice carried no strength. As a last effort, you reached out your hand and threw down the things resting on the shelf with your remaining energy, hoping desperately the commotion would attract Isaac’s attention.
The edges of your vision were starting to fizzle into black. You tried to pry his fingers away to loosen his grip on your throat. The desperation for air, to breathe, made your movements frantic. Your hands were shaking and you could not steady your fingers enough to pry his away.
“Let them go!” you registered Isaac’s voice faintly, seeing him in your swimming vision as he rushed towards you from where he had stood frozen in the doorway.
“I coughed them going through your—” Vic answered bitterly before Isaac interrupted.
“Let them go, Vic!” he shouted, gripping the shoulder of his friend and yanking him back. Vic released you, stumbling back a few steps, shocked by Isaac’s panicked wide eyes.
You choked, heaving in breaths of air. Unsteadily, you sank to the floor, bracing yourself against the carpet on your hands as you coughed. You fought to gulp in air and calm your breathing, but the sharp fear still lodged in your chest made that nearly impossible. “Isaac—” you gasped, reaching out your hand to hold onto him. The world was swimming dangerously around you and you feared you would drown or fall away if you did not have Isaac to hold onto.
Isaac regarded your shaking frame worriedly, his eyes shining with compassion and regret. “Hey, it’s alright,” he soothed, allowing your weak grip on his arm. “I’ve got you, you’re safe. I’m here, I’ve got you,” he said, wringing his arm around your upper body to keep you upright as another coughing fit overtook you. “Here, lean on me, it’s alright,” he whispered, scooting closer for you to rest against his chest.
After a moment of holding you securely in his arms and taking a few deep breaths of his own, Isaac raised his eyes to look at Vic. “They did not betray me,” he said coldly, his eyes fixed on Vic who was looking back at him quizzically, “I think it’s best if you go now.”
Rage was simmering violently under the facade of icy indifference Isaac tried to hold onto. True, Vic did not know, and it was comforting to know that he cared so much for him, but that thought was hard to hold onto when he could see you shaking against his chest, hear your unsteady, gasping breaths, and feel the tight, trembling grip you had onto him as if he were the only thing holding you together.
“I don’t—” Isaac started, but bit his lip to keep from finishing the sentence. “Go. Leave the documents. I will contact you.”
Vic looked ready to argue, but thought better of it as he saw the burning anger in Isaac’s eyes. He placed the envelope on the small desk, looked at it a moment longer and whispered a quiet, “oh.” He looked back at the two of you and took his leave, regret weighing heavily on his heart at having overlooked a clue so plainly visible.
“Oh my god, why are they going in there?” you asked, curling tighter around your blanket as the protagonists in the horror movie did something characteristically stupid. “They’re gonna die, Elias. I know it!”
Elias did not respond, eyes glued to the screen. He was expecting a jumpscare. He knew it was coming — the ominous music and dark TV screen very neatly leading up to it — but despite all the warnings, he could not tear his gaze away.
You were not so enthralled, glancing away from the movie to study his expression. His jaw was clenched, his eyes wide, and you were sure fear was gleaming in them. “Are you scared?”
Just then, the antagonist jumped out of nowhere, tackling one of the leads to the ground. She screamed, and Elias startled so violently that some of the popcorn spilled over the edges of the bowl onto his lap.
You tried to hide your chuckle.
“That was not funny!” he said, scowling as he picked up the scattered popcorn pieces. “I don’t know how you’re not terrified right now. We’re sleeping with the lights on tonight, that’s for sure.”
“Come on, Elias,” you teased, nudging his shoulder. “What’s so scary about a vampire? I’m sure a lot of people find them rather appealing.”
“I don’t know how anybody could find these bloodsuckers appealing. I mean look. They can’t control their blood lust and will literally drain you to eat. I don’t like being hunted, and the knowledge that all their senses outmatch mine and not even my gun would stop them from killing me is terrifying.”
You rolled your eyes. “Good thing they’re not real then,” you said, popping some popcorn into your mouth. The admission of terror had broken whatever spell of toughness Elias had been adamant to maintain, and now that he knew you knew that he was scared, something told him that he no longer needed to keep up the act of indifference.
He cuddled closer to you, leaning into your side with his cheek squished against your shoulder. The bowl of popcorn was still in his lap, but he snuck both arms around your middle to cling to you as another scary scene approached. He turned his head, sinking further under the blanket as he pressed his face against you and glanced at the television, curious about what would happen next but equally scared of it.
You smiled faintly, tangling your fingers in his hair and running through it soothingly. “It’s not real, you know,” you whispered, feeling his heart beating painfully hard against your side. “But even if it were, I would protect you from all the vampires of this world, my little star.”
“I’m the gangster here!”
“That’s right, but I can spike their drink with holy water and they’ll disintegrate before you can even search for a wooden stake to pierce their heart.”
He mumbled something intelligible, squeezing you tighter as the vampire eliminated another member of the main cast.
“What was that?” you asked, leaning your cheek against his head and playing with the strands of hair at the nape of his neck.
“I said I liked the nickname,” Elias admitted quietly, hiding behind your shoulder as his favorite character succumbed to the vampire’s compulsion. You chuckled, placing a kiss against the top of his head.
You held him tightly, occasionally munching on the popcorn as the last character of the original quartet pulled down the curtain of the large window in the hallway, and the vampire lit up in flames.
“Are you still afraid?” you asked, looking at Elias hesitating in the doorway of the bedroom. The light was still on.
He averted his gaze, his cheeks a tint of pink at this embarrassment. He had never been afraid of the dark. He loved the night and all the beautiful stars it made visible — but tonight, what might lurk in the darkness made his heartbeat quicken uncomfortably.
“Can we—?” he began, his pride choking him. He could not finish the sentence, but you understood regardless.
Wordlessly, you clicked on the bedside lamp. “Is this enough?”
He nodded, turning off the harsh lighting and crawling into bed beside you, the room now dimly lit. Elias snuggled into your side, wrapping an arm around your chest and burying his head in your shoulder. There was a creeping terror within him as if something sinister — a vampire — was lurking in every corner, hidden by every shadow, only waiting to catch him off guard.
It was silly. He knew that, but fear did not listen to rationality.
“Are you still afraid, my little star?” you asked, glancing at him. Elias pouted, pulling the covers over his head to hide from the world. You had to suppress a chuckle at his childishness. “Hey, want me to take your mind off of vampires?”
The comforter moved, Elias’ scowl poking out from beneath it to look at you, waiting for your proposition. You smirked, reaching out a hand to brush your thumb over his bottom lip. His eyes widened in understanding.
“Your lips look very kissable,” you stated.
He was on you in an instant, leaving the comforter to bury his hands in your hair as he connected his lips with yours. Elias was never one to pass up an opportunity to taste you — touch you — no matter the circumstances. You looped your arms around his neck, allowing him to set the pace as you sunk into the soft pillows, melting under his touch.
“Your lips are salty,” he murmured, giving you another chaste kiss to reexamine his claim. “Salty and sweet.”
“Popcorn,” you answered, looking at him through half-lidded eyes. His kisses left you breathless, aching for more as his lips trailed over your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses on your throat before traveling to your cleavage.
You could feel him rubbing against you, his cock hardening more with every inch of skin he kissed — his mind already conjuring up images of your arching back when he thrust into you just right, the sound of your breathy moans spurring him on to make you feel good. He could not believe how lucky he was to have you.
“May I?” he asked, hands stopping at the waistband of your pyamas. The top had ridden up, and you shivered at his soft touches over the exposed skin of your stomach.
You nodded eagerly, spreading your legs for him after he pulled them off.
“Wow,” he breathed, mouth watering at the sight of you. This was not the first time he had seen you like this — far from it — but you stole his breath every time regardless. He would never get used to the way you looked, aching for him. “You’re so gorgeous.”
The comment made you smile, triumphant in this method of distraction from the fear the movie had instilled in him. You wiggled your hips, watching with mirth as his eyes followed your every movement, his cock straining against his pants.
“Shit, why are you always this pretty?” he groaned, palming himself as his eyes fixed on you. “I can’t wait to be inside you, babe. Can I? God, can I?”
His words made you shiver, already imagining yourself stretching around his cock. You needed him just as bad, the eagerness you could hear in Elias’ little pants as he continued riling himself up reflected in your expression. “Please, yes,”you said, a yelp escaping you as he set his hands on your thighs, spreading your legs more.
“You’re ready for me, yeah?” he asked, pulling down his pants and boxers to free his cock. He was painfully hard, already leaking from the thought of you clenching around him. Elias positioned himself, kneeling before you as he teased your entrance with his cock.
Your eyes were squeezed shut, savoring the blissful torture as you fisted the bed sheets. “Elias, please,” you whined, rocking your hips to grind on his cock, impatient for him to enter you.
“Look at me,” he demanded softly, making your eyes flutter. “I want to look into your eyes when I— ahh—” he moaned, sheathing himself into your warm heat. Your eyes rolled back, your face twisted in an expression of ecstasy as you felt him stretch you out. “When I sink inside,” he finished, taking a moment to ground himself before leaning forward to kiss you again.
You threw your arms around his neck, losing yourself in the feeling of being joined together like this. Slowly, you began to grind your hips, wordlessly encouraging him to move.
Elias caught on to it immediately, bracing himself against the mattress as he began thrusting into you. It was divine, feeling his pace pick up as he succumbed to the pleasure. You wrapped your legs around his waist, digging your heels into his lower back and making him go even deeper as his thrusts picked up in intensity.
Every roll of his hips made you bounce, your thoughts and breath slowly slipping away until all you could do was pant and moan and wonder absentmindedly which parts of your insides were getting bruised by his cock slamming into them deliciously.
“Take me— so well,” he said, placing a hand on your waist to pull you back onto his cock, making your toes curl as the pleasure coiling in your lower stomach climbed to its high. “So fucking— mhm— so good— ah!”
You could feel him twitching inside you. Your hold on him tightened as you clenched around him, coming undone with a cry of his name. He wrapped his arms around your chest, clinging to you tightly as he went over the edge, his face buried in your shoulder to muffle his moans.
You were still trembling, thighs shaking from the intensity of your orgasm. Something told you that there would be an ache deep inside you that made walking a little uncomfortable tomorrow, but that thought felt far away as you brushed Elias’ black strands from his slick-covered forehead.
“Do you want to take a bath?” you asked, ignoring the gentle pull of your eyelids that beckoned you to sleep.
Elias still had you gathered in his arms. “Yeah,” he whispered, kissing your shoulder delicately. “I’ll run it in a minute. Just let me hold you for a while longer.”
could you make another Elias NSFW, THE FIRTS ONE WAS SOOOO GOOODDDD AND THANK YOU THANK YOUU, i personally think you got his character down perfectly ‼️‼️ I’ve been obsessed w him lately and there’s not many people that write about him. YOUR WRITING IS ALSO SOOO AMAZING AND TRULY OUT OF THIS WORLD AND I LOVE EVERY PEICE OF WORK THAT YOU DO <33
Thank you, anon <3 I hope you like this!
Cup of Coffee (NSFW)
Elias x Reader
Elias fucks you against the kitchen counter.
His eyes never left you, following your graceful movements in the kitchen — the half-spin you did as you dashed to the nearly overflowing milk, the sweater riding up against your skin as you stood on your tiptoes to get the large mugs from the shelf above your head — with a fondness in his eyes and a content little smile. Elias was happy to just watch you work your magic as you prepared a ‘special’ coffee for him, his head propped on his hand as he gazed at you dreamily.
You were just perfect.
“I could make this better,” you said with a huff as the foam refused to get as fluffy as you wanted it to. Maybe it was the milk, but as you eyed the pathetic milk foamer in your hand, which had given up halfway through doing its job, you had a creeping suspicion that it was the fault of the equipment you were forced to work with. “If I had the machines of the bar, I could make the most amazing coffee you have ever tasted in your life, trust me.”
Elias chuckled, taking a mental note to buy you your own bar once all this mess was over, or at the very least all the machinery you wanted to be a barista at home. Seeing you so passionate and excited over the work you missed to do, made his heart melt, and he could not wait to wipe the frown of annoyance from your face as you prepared a drink just the way you wanted to.
“Anything you do is amazing, barista,” he said, waiting patiently for the coffee you were preparing. He was curious about what you had come up with after promising him a special twist to his morning routine.
You huffed again as you messed up the foam art, cursing under your breath. “Well, it’s not gonna be much to look at, I’m afraid,” you murmured, quelching your disappointment by spraying some whipped cream on top of it to hide the disaster and sprinkling it with a dash of cinnamon. “Last-minute changes had to be made because I royally fucked up. Do you like cinnamon?”
“You know I do,” he answered, still able to taste the cinnamon swirls you had baked together yesterday when he closed his eyes. “And don’t be so harsh on yourself, it’s just a coffee. Anything you do is perfect to me.” Elias added the last part in a whisper.
You heard his words perfectly, and they made your movements till for a second, the candid adoration in them causing your heart to skip a beat. “Cheesy,” you mumbled light-heartedly, the warmth spreading through your chest nearly stealing your breath. “Your coffee is ready.”
Elias beamed as you approached with his drink, setting it down on the counter he was resting against. “This looks wonderful,” he praised, looking at the cup of coffee with wide eyes. “You’re the best barista I have ever come across. Thank you so much.”
“You haven’t even tried it yet,” you said sheepishly, biting your lips in nervousness as you wondered if his praise would hold up to the actual taste. “I hope you like it.”
“I’m sure I will,” he said, hesitating to taste the masterpiece you had prepared for him. “But it’s so pretty, I kinda feel bad to just—”
You burst out laughing, moving the cup closer to him. “It’s coffee, Elias. I prepared it just for you. It’s made to be drunk.”
He conceded, picking up a spoon and incorporating the whipped cream into the liquid, mixing the cinnamon as well. “It smells delicious, by the way,” he said, eyes fixed on the soft brown swirling in his cup, “I never knew coffee could smell this lovely.”
“Just because I made it, I’m sure,” you teased, picking up your own cup of coffee and stirring the containment.
“How else?” Elias asked lightly, but there was not a hint of irony in his voice, making your eyes snap up to look at him just as he sat down his cup, humming at the taste. “It’s delicious,” he said, licking at his lips to disperse the milk foam clinging to him. “I love it.”
You chuckled in relief, happy to have made something for him that he liked. “Good,” you said, raising your cup to your lips. Elias watched you with a fond smile which lightly faltered as he saw the milk sticking to your upper lip. “This is why I normally serve this with a straw,” you laughed, reaching your hand across the counter to grab a paper towel. Elias stopped you, taking hold of your hand and intertwining your fingers before moving to stand next to you. “What is it?” you asked, suddenly breathless at his intense gaze.
Instead of answering, he tilted his head, kissing the foam off of your lips before deepening the kiss, and backing you against the counter. “You’re so hot right now,” he whispered, one of his arms wrapping around your back while the other kept you pressed up against him, trapped. “I love it when you’re happy. You’re so fucking beautiful, I’ve been staring at you all morning.”
You exhaled shakily, his words against your ear making you shiver, the placement of his hands and his tickling breath on your neck — promising more, so much more — had desire coursing through you, longing for the man in front of you.
“You’ve been staring?” you asked, feigning innocence as you wrapped your arms around his neck, nails gently scratching along his back. “What were you staring at?”
“You,” he breathed, groaning as he pressed his hips further against yours, making you feel the swelling of his cock, steadily hardening against you. “Your face, your hands, your back, your tummy, your ass,” he said, grinding against you slowly. “All of you, my perfect barista.”
His words made you moan, tightening your arms around him to pull him closer, reducing the space between you as you grind your hips against his, giving you both a taste of the friction you needed. “I think you’ve stared enough,” you gasped, trailing your hands down his back until they rested against his ass, pushing him more firmly against you.
“I want to have you,” Elias groaned, letting go of your body to slip his hands between you two, undoing your pants and letting them pool at your ankles before doing the same for himself, freeing his achingly hard cock. “I want to fuck you against the counter. Yeah? Shit, I need to feel my cock inside you so bad.”
“Fuck, yes,” you gasped after a moment as his hands trailed between your legs, stretching you out against his fingers briefly to prepare you for him. “You feel so good,” you moaned, whimpers falling from your lips as he angled them, brushing against the spot that made you buck your hips against his hand in desperation.
Elias removed his fingers, making you deflate for an instant before he angled his cock with your entrance and pushed it inside slowly, stretching you out inch by inch. “God, you’re tight,” he gasped as you mewled at the stretch, fingers digging into his back as he rested his forehead on your shoulder, a hand on your hip to keep you steady as he moved the other between your shoulder blades, keeping you securely against him.
“Fuck — ah — Elias,” you moaned as he started thrusting, filling you up so well it made your head spin. The rhythm he set in pumping his cock in and out of your tight hole had you bouncing with every thrust, lower back digging into the counter behind you as Elias fucked you so exquisitely against it.
Your hands move from his neck to brace yourself against the surface behind you, keeping yourself steady as Elias thrust into you, groaning at your pleasured moans and murmuring your name over and over again as if it were a prayer.
“You’re taking me so well,” he panted against your neck, placing hot open-mouthed kisses against your skin as his arms tightened around you, bending you over the counter further to ram his cock even deeper inside of you.
The new angle made your toes curl, the pleasure building in your lower belly increasing further until you could do nothing but cry out a broken choke of his name as it pulled you under, waves of pleasure crashing over you as you came. Elias held you through it, thrusting into your shuddering body a few more times until his cock twitched and he released inside of you with a groan, riding out his high.
“Shit,” you cursed breathlessly, heart hammering against your chest as Elias continued kissing your neck softly. “I think the coffee’s cold now, Elias.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he murmured against your skin. “I like it cold, too. Take another sip, barista. I think I’m going to lick it off of you again. What do you say?”
I’m not sure if you take requests but i wanted to know if you could make an NSFW for Elias ? if you don’t take requests then it’s fine and I hope you have a good day ❕ :))
I do take requests!! (And am always happy to write them). I hope you enjoy, anon.
Starshine (NSFW)
Elias x Reader
“That’s not how you make a coffee, come on,” you hissed under your breath, looking at the TV screen in distaste. Elias chuckled next to you, amused by your commentary throughout the horrendous movie you were watching together.
He had given up on looking at the badly playing actors, cheap props, and abysmal camera movement a while ago, instead keeping his eyes fixed on you and the adorable expressions you made as you looked at the garbage playing before you.
“There was no research done for this whatsoever. Who looked at this and approved this absolute bullshit?”
Your curse tore an honest laugh from Elias’ chest, unused to you being so upset over something so insignificant. “Are you wounded in the pride of your profession, barista?” he teased, leaning closer to you to nudge your shoulder with his.
The teasing smile flickered on his lips for a moment when he caught a whiff of your scent. His eyes fluttered shut and he inhaled deeply, not quite able to tell what you smelled like. It was so indescribably you that he wanted to bury his face in your hair, encircle you in his arms, and never leave your side again.
“Elias?” your confused voice made his eyes snap open again, a deep blush rising to his cheeks as he saw you looking at him with furrowed brows. How long had he stayed like that?
He cleared his throat hastily, turning his gaze towards the TV and pointedly not looking at you. “You smell nice,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair and clearing his throat again. “Sorry, I just— you smell really nice.”
You looked at him for a moment longer, trying to discern if he was teasing you, but seeing his cheeks bright red and his hands wringing nervously in his lap had you convinced Elias was genuine. The thought made your lips curl upward in a smile before it morphed into a smirk, remembering that the surveillance cameras had been uninstalled just last week to give the two of you a bit more privacy as you enjoyed each other's company at the safehouse.
“You smell nice, too,” you whispered, leaning into Elias’ side and resting your head on his shoulder, tickling the shell of his ear with your warm breath. One of your hands began treading through his hair, while the other traced his jawline, your fingers expertly taking hold of his chin and tilting his head towards you. “You taste nice, as well,” you added a moment before connecting your lips with his.
Elias melted into the kiss immediately, his hands sneaking around your waist and upper body to pull you closer to him. Nothing could compare to cradling you in his arms, feeling you close. It made him feel warm in ways he could never explain. Having you move against him, your soft lips connecting with his in a touch that was so trusted and intimate— it made him feel loved in a way he hadn’t felt for years. Cherished. Appreciated. Seen completely.
The soft sigh escaping you as his tongue explored your mouth made his blush deepen, and Elias shifted in his seat, squirming under the touch of your hand trailing up and down his chest. You sounded far too good, you felt far too good.
He was just about to break the kiss, clear his throat sheepishly to fight the arousal pooling in his stomach and ask you if the two of you should stop, when you broke the kiss yourself, looking at him for a long moment. Your eyes were fixing him intensely, and he could see how dilated your pupils were, making him wonder if he looked the same to you.
With a movement so smooth Elias could not help but gape, you settled yourself on his lap, tracing your hands across his chest. “Tell me to stop and I will,” you said, still looking him in the eyes as you began moving your hips, grinding into his stiffening cock.
“Don’t you dare,” he breathed, groaning as you rubbed against him. His head fell against the back of the couch in pleasure as you hiked up his shirt, tracing your fingers over the soft skin of his stomach. Elias had his hands on your waist, steadying you as you rocked your hips against him. “Wait—” he groaned, his cock painfully hard now and straining against his jeans, “We should— I mean, do you want to—?”
“Do I want to what, pretty boy?” you purred in his ear, suddenly feeling brave and wanting Elias’ face to turn bright red again. It did, the pet name wringing a choked-off moan from him as his cock twitched in pleasure. You were undoing him, tearing him apart piece by piece, and putting him back together again in the most beautiful way.
His breath stuttered as you palmed the tent in his jeans, tracing the outline of his hard cock. “Ride me,” he choked out finally, thrusting his hips upward to increase the friction you were giving him. “Please,” he breathed, sighing deeply as you sucked on his neck, your hand lightly squeezing his cock through his jeans as the other worked to unfasten his belt. “Do you want to? Please.”
His whine made you chuckle, grazing his sensitive skin with your teeth. Elias shuddered, a broken moan tumbling from his lips at a particularly harsh squeeze of your hand on him. “You don’t need to beg,” you said, unbuttoning his pants and pulling down the zipper. “I want to, Elias. I want you.”
“Shit,” he cursed, missing the cue to pull down his pants and free his cock as you raised yourself from his lap for a moment. “You can’t just say things like that,” he said, eyes half-lidded and already drowning in pleasure as he looked at you, having lost his train of thought at your words.
You only smirked. “Get those off,” you commanded gently, running your hands over his clothed thighs. He scrambled to comply, his hands hovering on the band of his briefs as you leaned in close to him again, taking full advantage of the scattered state he was in. “I want you inside me, Elias. I want to bounce on your cock. I want you to fill me up and stretch me out until I can’t take any more.”
The whine he let out had you licking your lips in anticipation. If he sounded so sinful now, you could only imagine what he sounded like when he was buried to the hilt inside of you, his cock sliding in and out of you and tearing sounds from him that were made only for you.
Glancing down, you saw the front of his underwear already stained with precum. “Someone’s eager,” you said, grazing your fingers along the outline of his cock, “take them off as well. I want to see you.”
“Fuck,” Elias gasped, raising his hips to comply again. “But I want to see you as well. Enough of this teasing, I— I want to fuck you now. I mean, if you— that is if you’d like me to—”
You cut him off with a kiss. “Yeah I do,” you breathed, moving off of his lap to hastily strip under his unwavering stare. Elias was looking at you as if you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. The burning light of the heavens above was nothing compared to you, breathtakingly divine.
You settled back onto his lap, frowning at the expression in his eyes. “What is it?” you asked confused, feeling a bit self-conscious under his attentive gaze. “Like what you see?” you tease to hide your nervousness.
“You’re beautiful,” he said in a breath, the tone light but so genuine it rendered you speechless for a moment. Elias cupped your cheeks, tracing your cheekbones with his thumbs before kissing you, pouring his overflowing love into the movement of his lips against yours. “I can’t believe you’re mine,” he whispered when you broke apart, leaning his forehead against yours.
“I am,” you answered, taking hold of his hand and guiding it between your thighs, “and I’d like you to claim me as such.”
The feeling of Elias’ fingers inside of you was short-lived, preparing you just enough before he angled his cock and you sunk on it slowly, the grip on his shoulders tightening.
He kept his hips still with considerable effort, his hands perched on your hips to help steady you on his cock. “Shit, you’re so tight,” he moaned as you took him to the hilt, panting at the feeling of being stretched out. “Are you good?” he asked hoarsely, tilting your chin to meet his gaze.
You could only mewl, holding onto him as you began to move, fucking yourself on him slowly. Elias kept his eyes on your blissful expression, savoring the sight of the furrow of your brows as you lowered yourself down his cock and the burning red of your slightly parted lips, strangled moans escaping you as you bounced on him.
Shit, he would never get the sight of you out of his head.
The position had his cock sinking deeply inside you, reaching into your depths and hitting you so exquisitely that it made you throw your head back in pleasure, clutching Elias’ shoulders to keep yourself steady on his lap. You increased your pace, meeting the shallow thrusts of his hips halfway.
“You’re so fucking good,” you groaned, losing the rhythm against him as the pleasure building steadily inside you made it hard to keep your legs working. You opened your eyes again to look at Elias’ blissed-out expression under you.
A harsh thrust of his hips made his cock sink deeper, hitting a spot that made you throw your head back in a drawn-out moan. Through half-lidded eyes, you saw the sparkling night sky through the window across the living room.
“Mhm, ‘lias,” you slurred, losing yourself to the pleasure between your legs. “Look, sta— stars. Oh, fuck. Yes, right there.”
Elias growled, holding onto your hips tightly as he impaled you on his cock. His pace relentless as he thrusted into you fast and hard, edging both of you closer to your pinnacle of pleasure. “I’m gonna fuck you so good, those won’t be the only stars you’ll see,” he grunted, snapping his hips even faster.
His words made you fold, and you fell against his chest, a hand sneaking around his shoulders as the other gripped his hair. “Fuck, you can’t say things like that,” you parroted his words back at him, feeling the pressure in your stomach tightening, nearing your release. “I’m close,” you whined, trying to move your hips against Elias, but his pace was so violent you could not keep up.
“Good, come for me,” he panted, pumping his cock even faster inside of you, “Come, that’s it. Come on my cock.”
You shuddered, walls tightening around him as you released with a cry of his name. The sight of you coming undone pushed Elias over the edge as well, rolling his hips a few more times as he rode out his high.
You collapsed on top of him, going boneless with exhaustion as he wrapped his arms around you, keeping you upright. “How are you feeling? Do you need anything?” he asked, brushing your hair back from your forehead, encouraging you to look at him. “I’m gonna clean us up in a second. How about a bath?”
“‘M fine,” you mumbled, trusting Elias to take charge as your eyes slipped shut for a moment, exhaustion overtaking you. “Bath sounds great. Love you. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me,” he whispered, placing a kiss against the top of your head as he shifted under you, moving you gently to get up and run a bath for both of you. “I love you, too. I’ll always take care of you.”
Asirel, while being the kindest human you had encountered in a while, certainly was not the nicest. He was cold, calculating and gave you the impression that — despite saying otherwise — he wanted to earn your trust and good grace only to exploit you further down the road.
In his line of business, the selfishness he exuded certainly came in handy. At least, that was what you assumed based on the cryptic allusions he had made about it. It had not been easy to understand what your new occupation for him would entail since he was adamant about evading all your questions about himself, his life, and his work.
You accepted without hesitation regardless, jumping at the prospect of getting out of the chains digging into your skin, shackling you to the wall, and escaping the underground cell you had been placed in. There had been so little stimuli for your heightened senses during your time of captivity that with every passing day, it felt more and more like you were losing your mind, another piece of you chiseled away by the darkness and loneliness and quiet.
It was different with Asirel.
The mansion you were staying in was large and, despite Asirel’s obvious trust issues, had various people rushing in and out throughout the day. Not that you minded the commotion they caused. On the contrary, the sound of them going about their work made you feel calm. The smell they brought with them, their occasional touch when they brushed you in the hallway, made you slowly leave the rotten cage behind, which had shackled you for so long, and start feeling alive again.
Due to Asirel being so closed off, however, he did not exactly specify what you could and couldn’t do now that you were officially his, well, pet, and you did not want to risk upsetting him so soon into your collaboration.
What he had asked of you was not difficult to achieve, honestly. Watching over him, protecting him from some humans that might want to one-up him sometime in the future: no problem at all. You could snap all his assailants like a twig. Asirel was perfectly safe with you.
Standing in the kitchen now, the cook behind the kitchen aisle happily chatting to you about their two cats while slicing bread, the thought hit you that this was the happiest you had been in a long while.
You had your own room, which you could leave at your own volition to roam around the house and interact with people who, surprisingly, did not treat you like a monster or some creature to be afraid of. Of course, there was the occasional employee who would duck their head and find the most absurd excuse to leave the room when you entered, but they were oddly rare. Most of the staff, especially the cook, seemed mildly intrigued by you, treating you as just another part of their uncommon lives.
It was all rather charming, if not for a very substantial issue you did not know how to raise with Asirel: he had not let you feed in what felt like ages.
Vampires did not need to feed as often as humans did, so much was true, but at least once a week would be nice. Once every two weeks would also be acceptable if Asirel could only arrange for that much, but it had been a month since he had taken you in and ever since giving you his blood while you were still in your cell, shackled to the wall, he had not opened his veins again for you. That was a considerable time to go without fresh blood, and you had started to feel light-headed, occasionally having a spike of agony rise deep within you at being starved. Again.
You had been given next to nothing to eat during your captivity as a way to keep you weak and pliable for your capturers, but now, being tasked with protecting someone, you bitterly wondered how exactly you were supposed to do that efficiently and to the best of your abilities if Asirel did not give you enough to eat to restore your full potential.
A part of you wondered if he was doing it on purpose, keeping you weak because he did not trust you. Maybe he was afraid of what you would do, of what you could do if you wished, both to him and all the people in his care. But that would be unreasonable. Why get you in the first place, then? What use was a weak vampire? How would they protect him, when they themself were a potential threat if they lost their senses from sheer hunger?
More probable was the thought that Asirel simply did not know better. Of course, he had seemingly dealt with vampires and other beings for a long time during his career, but that did not mean he knew their requirements regarding the quantity of food they needed.
You had wanted to bring it up, but the unreasonable part of yourself — the mistrustful one — held onto the thought that he knew exactly what he was doing, and did not want you to feed for whatever reason. To keep you weak. To test you and find out how far he could push you until you caved.
You did not dare to ask him for blood he would not give of his own accord, which left you here, leaning against the wall of the kitchen and trying to follow along to Tay’s words as best as you could to distract you from the hunger eating you up from the inside.
“I know you’ve probably seen a lot of places,” they said, drying the salad leaves, “and I envy you for that. I’ve always wanted to go to Europe. Just imagine the beaches of the Mediterranean. Or the fog slowly creeping around the trees of the German Schwarzwald!”
“Why have you never gone, then?” you asked, eyeing the half-finished sandwich with disdain, “I’ve got some connections, I believe. If you want, I could inquire about the best places to visit.”
Tay blushed, stuttering out a quick thank you before declining the offer. “I mean, this job pays very well. That’s not the issue. I’m just thinking about going on this trip when I get married, like on a honeymoon,” they said, breaking into a beaming grin that would outshine the sun, “but I don’t think my fianceé’s ready yet. I’ll just wait. The Schwarzwald is not going anywhere. Besides, I have the two fur balls to look over, and I— damn!”
The scent of blood hit you an instant before Tay’s hiss of pain did. You inhaled sharply, mouth-watering, and muscles seizing at the acute reminder that food was within your grasp if you only dared to reach for it.
Mistaking your intake of breath for a gasp of worry, Tay reassured you quickly, cleaning their bleeding finger under the faucet before wrapping it in a tissue, “I’m fine really. I was distracted by the trees and my knife slipped. Nothing to worry about, I assure you.”
They turned around, shooting you a smile meant to be comforting, oblivious to your predicament. Distantly, you thought that they must have forgotten that you were a vampire, or they trusted you so much not to be afraid to bleed near you since they assumed you had yourself under complete control. You were not sure which of those answers made your heart ache more.
The feeling of hunger was only increasing, and no matter how much you tried to distract yourself by pushing your back further against the wall, you could feel the tread of your control slowly wearing down. You would snap any moment now. “Leave,” you bit out through gritted teeth, the confused tilt of Tay’s head only furthering your irritation, “Leave the room. I’m serious.”
“But I—” they began hesitantly, looking at you with wide eyes that shone with something akin to hurt, “I have not finished my work yet.”
You could no longer contain yourself, rushing towards them with unnatural speed. The smell of blood was all you could focus on, and it was so close you could almost taste the liquid in your mouth. It did not matter that it was Tay bleeding; the person who had opened up to you immediately and tried their hardest to make you feel comfortable in your new environment. It did not matter because the prospect of feeding after being denied for so long was just so intoxicating that it numbed your mind, letting your primal instincts take over.
“And pet,” Asirel had said after giving you a short tour of the house and introducing you to those under his care who worked in it regularly, “if you hurt any one of my employees, I’ll stick you back in a cage you will never get out of. Do I make myself clear?”
You braced yourself against the kitchen aisle at the last instant, gripping it with strength so crushing you wondered why it did not splinter under your hands. Tay had taken a hurried step back, their back hitting the counter and their hands raised as if trying to fend you off.
“Leave!” you growled again, closing your eyes to focus on your breathing and drown out the sound of the erratic heartbeat — pumping fresh, delicious blood in abundance — on the other side of the room.
“What is going on here?” Asirel’s sharp voice cut through the haze in your mind, the thought of blood momentarily forgotten as a sense of dread overcame you. “What did you do?” he hissed angrily, moving to stand beside you as if waiting, daring you to move and attack.
You looked up to Tay, who was still standing as far away from you as they could, frozen in shock and fear. Their wide eyes and rigid posture made your heart break. ‘A monster,’ you could see it reflected in their gaze on you, ‘I was befriending a monster.’
“I—” your voice caught on the first syllable.
“It’s my fault, really,” Tay said quietly, a forced smile appearing on their face, “I was careless, cutting myself in the kitchen. They just—”
Asirel raised a hand, making them fall silent. “I told you to behave,” he said, his tone of voice turning his words into a threat.
It made you bristle. Still refusing to look at him, you kept your gaze on the sandwich on the counter. The image of food reminded you of the pain cursing through you, the pain he was responsible for. The rage suddenly twisting sharply inside you forced you to take a steadying breath. “It would be easier to behave,” you snapped with as much venom as you could muster, “if you were not starving me!”
A part of you had expected Asirel to laugh at that, perhaps to mock you about how easy you were to break — at how pathetic it was that you were not brave enough to take what you needed for yourself — but he did not. The suffocating silence engulfing the room instead made your skin crawl with anticipation and uncertainty.
Clearing his throat, Asirel began to speak. “Tay,” he said calmly, but you could hear the underlying tremor in his voice, “Leave. Take a break, it’s alright.”
For a moment, it looked like they wanted to protest or say something, but a single look from Asirel made them swallow their words. They ducked their head and exited the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone together.
“I did not mean to snap at you,” you apologized in a whisper, but Asirel was not paying you any attention. He was busy removing his suit jacket and rolling up his left sleeve. You glanced at him, a frown on your face. “What are you doing?”
Asirel chuckled humorlessly. “What, you tell me I am starving you and expect me to just move on from that? I know you haven’t known me long, but I would have thought that you at least had some vague idea about the person I am. Now come on” — he held his arm out towards you — “drink. I know you want to, pet. You need to.”
He was right. But the overwhelming need to feed was exactly why you were hesitant to do so. You did not know how far you would go once you tasted blood, and you did not want to risk draining Asirel. “I—” you stuttered, as he kept looking at you expectantly, “I’m afraid I won’t stop.”
“I trust you,” he said without hesitation, “Come on now, I can see you’re fighting to restrain yourself. Give in, it’s alright.” Asirel stepped closer to you, making you fight the urge to take a step back. His heartbeat was even louder now, drowning out everything else. “I give you permission.”
Your resolve broke. Slowly at first, you began feeding, but the sweet taste of his blood in your mouth made you crave more and more. It had been so long that you could not help yourself now, finally allowed to satiate your hunger.
The soft grunts and hisses from Asirel barely registered as you continued, oblivious to everything but the satisfaction of finding relief. “Right,” he said hoarsely, “That’s enough for now.” You did not stop, too caught up in the bliss to notice his words. “Pet?” Asirel brought his free hand up to tread through your hair, pulling slightly to get you to release his arm.
With a herculean effort, you let go of him. “Pardon,” you mumbled, licking your lips to savor every last drop of his blood. Admittedly, you felt a lot better. The pain tearing at you had subsided, and you could feel renewed energy flowing through you.
When you looked back at Asirel, you found him leaning heavily against the counter, trying to catch his breath. He looked pale. A thin layer of sweat had appeared on his forehead and his hands shook as he tried to loosen his tie. “I just need a moment,” he said weakly, and you could see him swaying where he stood. “Just a moment, and then you can keep—”
You pulled up a chair from the kitchen table, grabbing his arm to keep him from falling as you helped him sit down. “Did I take too much?” you asked, narrowing your eyes as you undid his tie and opened the first button of his dress shirt. With quick steps, you walked around the kitchen aisle and grabbed the sandwich Tay prepared, bringing it to Asirel.
“No, not at all,” he answered quickly, eyeing the food. “I have just had something to eat. I’m fine.”
You kneeled, catching his gaze. “Asirel, I need you to be honest with me on this, please,” you said firmly, and the seriousness and gravity of your voice made him pause, “Did I take too much?” The burning intensity of your eyes entranced and confused him in equal measures, making him forget that you had not called him by his preferred title.
He considered your question for a moment, holding eye contact. “No,” he said with confidence, “You did not. It was fine, pet. Don’t worry.”
His response made you breathe a quiet sigh of relief. “Good,” you whispered to yourself. Asirel’s fingers running slowly through your hair brought you back to the present, raising your eyes to look at his somber expression. “Eat, please. You need the energy after the blood I took from you.”
“Why didn’t you say something?” he asked instead, continuing to play with your hair. You looked away, unable to meet his piercing gaze, but he stopped you, tilting your chin up with the fingers of his free hand. “Don’t look away from me, pet. Why did you not tell me you were suffering?”
“It was not a priority,” you said quietly, “and you seemed to be versed enough with vampires that I assumed you knew what you were doing, so what use was there in reminding you?”
For a moment, Asirel’s gaze softened. His expression turned from his usual mask of being entirely in control of a situation into one of anguish and guilt. He opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it. He exhaled slowly, and the hard look in his eyes returned a moment later. “From now on, tell me,” he said, taking a bite of the sandwich, “I can help.”
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