the old dorm’s legendary man is back to life— fortunately for your needy self, he has a mega crush on you. so what do you do? you welcome him with open arms and legs every. single. night.
WARNINGS: MDNI/18+, language, strong power play, bondage, hints of masochism + sadism, impact play, use of clamps + sex toys, praise + degradation kink, cum eating, fingering + cunnilingus, dacryphilia, overstimulation, marking, creampies, drooling, slight exhibitionism,
Isaac knows what he likes. He doesn’t need to do talking stages or courting rituals— once he has his eyes set on something, oh baby, he’s going to be on it. But what’s the relevance? Well, once he wants a partner, he’s going to have one.
Imagine seeing a tragic legend appear at your door, soaked in rain and blood. Of course you help the poor zombie! Night after night he’ll visit, perhaps leaving a gift or two of appreciation. That is, until he started giving other gifts.
I mean, you loved him already when he was fresh from the grave— so obviously you’re head over heels once you see his completely morphed form!
Isaac knows how to please women— teeth, lips, and hands are your main weakness, and he doesn’t even have to use his dick yet before you start becoming a moaning mess. But don’t forget, he’s a man who believes himself god— so he’s sure to have some power play in the room.
Bondages, cuffs, clamps, ever-lasting sex toys— he’s done it all to you. He’s done wicked combinations of nipple clamps as he finger-fucks your soppy pussy, and you’re trembling when the vibrating bullet overstimulates your puffy clit. He’d whisper words of praise;
“You’re doing so well for me.”
“Such a good patient you are.”
“Show me how bad you want to cum.”
He’d push you over the edge with your toys, sometimes humming in content, other times, in distaste when you hold back your sweet melodies. He needs to consider all the effects of his experimentations after all, so this simply won’t do.
You would be bent over his knee, one of his hands rubbing your sensitive bundle of nerves, the other, spanking your weeping cunt. It would hurt more when he wore his gloves, but you didn’t complain, not when his filthy words rattled your diminished brain;
“You look so pretty like this, wet and sobbing over my knee.”
“Oh is it too much? That’s too bad, I haven’t even gotten to the best part sweetie.”
“Ah, ah, ah! Lick my gloves first— that’s a good girl.”
Isaac has a strong preference of seeing you below him. He loves seeing you whimper and tremble, begging him to never stop his lustful attempts. He even adores the pitiful way you try to push him, so, so, so weakly.
You would be bent over your bed, being a sweet pillow princess as you held onto the plush as your only leverage. The man would be ramming his cock into your pretty pussy, cooing at you to keep sobbing for him as he fills you up, one hand pushing down the back of your neck, and the other holding your hips in place.
You would always be left with fingerprinted bruises all over your body, and sometimes the occasional hungry bite. They littered your lower body, and if you were unlucky sometimes, your throat. It looked like you fell off a cliff every night, but there was only one difference— falling off a cliff doesn’t make your pussy flutter and drip with milky cum.
The sick man even likes it when you suck his cock; your brows furrowed and your throat erupting in choked air, unable to breathe properly. He would have your hair in a fist, a strong sign of who’s really dominant here.
Oh, and word of advice— don’t ever crawl away from him. It doesn’t matter if you’re trembling or if you’re drooling like some rabid dog, he will get mad. You could be overflowing with creampies, your body slick and dewy as you gasped for a brief break— and he would be very, very, very upset.
“Oh no, no, no! Where do you think you’re going sweetie?”
He’d either grab your neck or your hair— unkindly of course— and press you against your soaked bed once more. His weight is heavy upon you, his bloody breath tickling your ear as he whispered,
“You don’t get to walk out of this— ever. So open that pussy up, or I will.”
So what were you to do? Well, reach south and part your slippery folds of course.
Isaac is definitely a pussy guy. Sure, he’d give your ass an occasional smack or your tits a simple pinch and tug— but it’s not the same as the special thing you have down there.
His new tongue allows him to stretch at least a foot long (not sure? just ask him over…but it’ll come at a price), but he’s at least considerate enough to not shove it all up at you. He’s definitely more of a “lift your ass up as I lay down” kind of guy too, with a preference at keeping your thighs spread far apart for him.
You’d be moaning by the time his tongue slips inside your hole, practically scissoring your gummy walls as his thumb focused on stimulating your clit. Or, he’d definitely eat you out after he’s used your toys on you, being “kind” enough to clean you up internally.
Can’t say that you don’t like it though, because his soft growls vibrate into you— making you clench uncontrollably at the tongue you rode.
He’s also a Da Vinci— so he’s good with his hands. Whether it be having you on his lap as he thrusts his fingers into you slowly, his lips muttering incoherent equations to your head— or simply being unrelenting after your squirming orgasms as punishment— he knows it all.
Definitely not his fault that you couldn’t close your legs properly the other day.
Isaac may be a smart evil scientist, but he’s still a really sloppy guy. Uneven kisses, wet tongues, and even blatant biting— it’s his way of showing his carnal love.
Well, I suppose it depends. When he’s deeply in love, he’s the kind of guy to show it off. So expect to be on Lagos Tower, your tits and tummy pressed again the humid glass as he helps himself to your warm pussy.
Your cum would drip down your inner thighs, passing over healing bites and purple hickies, and then down to the dirty ground. Your lips would create the sweet noises that push him to start licking your dewy body, his hunger strong to simply mark you all over again.
It’s as if he found a purpose again.
“Aw, you like it when I touch you like this?”
His hand would wrap itself in front of you, applying pressure to your abdomen as your cunt squelched with each feverish thrust. You wouldn’t be able to process everything though— not when your knees were practically side to side and your head lolled onto his chest as your fucked-out face drooled down your bobbing throat.
“You have such a bad habit of drooling, now what shall we do about that?”
Clearly, your pretty lips needed to be plugged by his sweet cock once more.
You’ve grown used to the glow of candlelight spilling out from Isaac’s corner of Nevermore’s workshop. It flickers across brass gears, coils of copper wire, and parchment scrawled with frantic notes. He hardly sleeps anymore, eyes sunken but sharp, hands trembling not from weakness but from the relentless pace he sets for himself.
And always, the name on his lips: Francoise.
“Isaac,” you say softly, leaning against the wooden beam of the doorway. “It’s past midnight. Again.”
His head jerks up. Shadows carve sharp lines into his pale face, the hollow of his cheek catching the light. He’s been working for hours, the same mechanism laid out before him: a machine of whirring cogs meant to harness power, meant to strip away Hyde blood, meant to do the impossible.
“I can’t stop now,” he mutters. His voice is hoarse, like gravel dragged across stone. “I’m closer tonight than I’ve ever been.”
You take a step closer, folding your arms over your chest. “You said that last night. And the night before. And the week before that.”
He stiffens. “This time it’s different.”
You can hear the unspoken part: this time, she might be saved.
Your chest aches, torn between admiration and worry. You love him,you’ve never doubted that,but his obsession gnaws at him like rot beneath the skin. And it gnaws at you too, leaving you lonely in the very moments you want to be closest.
“Isaac,” you say, firmer this time, “you need to rest. You’re burning yourself out. What use is saving your sister if you destroy yourself first?”
He freezes, shoulders rising, tension like a drawn bowstring. His dark eyes lock on yours, cold, gleaming. “Don’t say that.”
“I’m not saying stop,” you whisper, reaching for him. “Just… pause. Sleep. Eat. Let me help carry some of this weight.”
For a moment, you think he’ll soften. His lips part, a shadow of your Isaac flickering there, the boy who used to walk with you through Nevermore’s woods, murmuring secrets under the canopy of leaves.
But then the shadow vanishes. His jaw hardens.
“You don’t understand,” he snaps, pulling away from your touch. “None of you do. If I stop,even for a moment,it could mean losing her forever. Do you think I care about sleep? About myself?” His voice rises, sharp enough to cut. “I don’t need your pity, Y/N. I need you to stop distracting me.”
The words slice through you. Your hand drops. You open your mouth, then close it again, because what is there to say when the boy you love looks at you as though you’re standing in his way instead of at his side?
Your throat tightens, eyes burning. You step back from the table, back into the shadows of the workshop. “Fine,” you breathe. “If that’s what you want.”
He doesn’t stop you. Doesn’t call after you. The only sound is the relentless clicking of gears as you walk away.
---
You don’t remember how you got back to your dorm. The hours blur into a haze of muffled tears, the sound of your sobs pressed into your pillow so no one will hear. You curl against the cold wall, knees tucked to your chest, and let the grief pour out.
You love him. You’ve given everything you have to stand by him, to hold him steady when the obsession claws at him, to remind him that he’s still human. But tonight, he didn’t want to be held. Tonight, he wanted only the machine.
And for the first time, you wonder if there’s any space left for you in his fractured world.
---
It’s late when you hear the knock. A hesitant, uneven rhythm.
You don’t answer.
The door creaks open anyway.
“Y/N?”
It’s his voice,lower than usual, rough around the edges. You swipe hastily at your face, but your tears have already left streaks. You keep your gaze fixed on the blanket bunched in your lap.
“Go away, Isaac.”
There’s a pause. Then the sound of the door shutting, the shuffle of boots against stone. He doesn’t leave. He crosses the room and sinks to the floor beside your bed, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off him.
“I shouldn’t have said what I did,” he whispers. His voice trembles, stripped bare. “I was cruel.”
Your lips press into a thin line. “You think?”
He flinches. But he doesn’t retreat. “I’ve spent so long chasing this dream,saving her,that I forget… I forget I’m not the only one paying the price.” He looks up at you then, eyes glistening with guilt. “I hurt you. And that’s the last thing I ever wanted.”
You finally meet his gaze. He looks exhausted, yes, but there’s something else there too,fear. The kind that comes from realizing you might have pushed too far, from realizing the one person who’s always been in your corner could walk away.
Your voice cracks when you speak. “I don’t need you to be perfect, Isaac. I don’t even need you to stop fighting for her. But I do need you. I need to know I matter to you. Because when you look at me like I’m nothing more than a distraction…” Tears well again, spilling before you can stop them. “It feels like I’m already losing you.”
His breath shudders out. He reaches for your hand, hesitant, as though afraid you’ll pull away. When you don’t, he laces his fingers through yours, gripping tightly.
“You’ll never lose me,” he says fiercely. “Do you hear me? Never. I get lost in my work, in my guilt, in all the ways I failed her,but you… you’re the only thing that pulls me back. You’re the reason I haven’t let the darkness eat me alive.”
Your heart aches at the raw honesty in his words. He leans closer, pressing his forehead against the back of your hand.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, voice breaking. “I’m so damn sorry. I should have listened. I should have seen how much it was hurting you.”
You brush your free hand through his hair, tangled from long nights bent over schematics. “You’re stubborn, Isaac Night,” you whisper. “But I love you anyway.”
His eyes flutter shut, relief washing over his features. When he looks up again, there’s a fragility in him you rarely see, a boy stripped of all his armor.
“Stay with me,” he pleads softly. “Even if I stumble. Even if I forget to look up from the machine. Remind me when I lose sight of what matters.”
You nod, tears slipping silently down your cheeks. “Always.”
He climbs onto the bed beside you then, curling against you as though afraid you might vanish. You hold him close, your fingers tracing gentle patterns against his back, and for the first time in weeks his body loosens, the tension draining away.
The machine can wait. The world can wait. Tonight, it’s just the two of you, clinging to each other in the quiet heart of Nevermore.
And though the shadows still lurk at the edges of his mind, for now, you are enough to keep them at bay.
Summary: In the morning after an intimate night, your child asked what the noises were in your room
Characters: Alucard, Carmilla, Dracula, Hector, Isaac, Sypha, Trevor
Warnings: Pre-established relationship, gn!reader
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Alucard ⚔︎:
Alucard was washing the dishes when his daughter approached, gently tugging on his sleeve. She looked at him with a curious expression. Alucard raised an eyebrow, knowing something was coming.
"What's that face? What happened?" He asked, stopping washing the dishes for a moment so the girl could take his hand.
"Dad, why were there strange noises in your room last night? Mommy was moaning, and you were groaning." The dhampir's eyes widened.
"Ah… that's… she had a backache and I was helping her stretch." He smiled forcedly and awkwardly. "But please, never say that out loud again." He went back to washing the dishes, his cheeks pink.
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Carmilla ⏾:
Carmilla was brushing her hair in front of a dressing table when her son entered the room.
"Mom, why was Mommy screaming last night? And the bed was moving."
"Because we were sorting out some things." Carmilla remained serious, her eyes never leaving the mirror. "And sometimes it makes noise when adults solve things. Now, why don't you go after your mother? She's dying to play with you."
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Dracula 🦇:
Dracula was in the library, sitting in an armchair, reading and studying the properties of some plants. Your daughter entered quietly and sat in the armchair facing her father.
"Dad, was mommy crying last night?" The little girl asked, worried about you.
"Crying?" Dracula looked up from his book. "No... she was just having fun."
"But it seemed like you were hurting her."
"I'd never do anything to hurt your mom. We were just... playing."
"Playing with the noise of things hitting?"
"Adults' game," he replied, trying to hide his embarrassment. "You'll understand when you're older."
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Hector 🐾:
Hector was feeding the dog when his son appeared, looking confused.
"Dad, why was Mommy moaning yesterday? It looked like she was in pain."
"It wasn't pain, buddy." Hector sighed and turned to the boy. "It was just that Daddy was helping her… with an exercise."
"But why were you exercising at night?"
"Because at night it's more… calm." His cheeks turned red. "Now forget about it and go help your mother set the table."
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Isaac 🗡:
Isaac was combing his daughter's hair when she looked at him suspiciously.
"Dad, were you and Mom fighting yesterday? She wouldn't stop screaming."
"Fighting? No, honey, I was just teaching your mom some moves."
"Fighting moves? So why didn't they fight in the living room?"
"The bedroom is... comfier."
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Sypha ✴︎:
Sypha was sitting on the sofa reading when her daughter approached, looking at her with a curious expression.
"Mom, was Mommy crying yesterday? Because I heard her saying 'oh, oh, oh' several times."
"No, princess," Sypha said, closing her book and sighing, "She wasn't crying. I was just massaging her."
"But then why was there noise in the bed?"
"It's just that the massage was really intense." She went back to reading the book, praying that the conversation would end there.
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Trevor 𓍯:
Trevor was sitting on the floor playing with wooden toys with your son when the kid blurted out,
'"Dad, why were you and mommy making noise last night? It seemed like the bed was moving?"
"Oh.." Trevor scratched the back of his head. "We were trying to catch a monster that entered the room."
"A monster?!"
"Yeah. A very dangerous one. It was hard, but obviously I managed to catch it."
"You're so strong, dad! Was mommy screaming because of the monster?"
"Well, yeah..." He chuckled, "But in the end, she was happy that I managed to catch it." Trevor then went back to playing with the boy.
Based off DM request from @msvirgoflower because this is a total rom-com cliche 😆
Castlevania boys [Drac, Alucard, Isaac, Hector, and Trevor] to how they would react if their s/o came back home after drinking heavily with friends and while trying to help them to bed when they get home their drunk s/o slaps them and is all like "Whoa back the f#$% up! I am off the market- I gots me a man and he'll kick your ass!
Prompts HERE
VALENTINES LIST
♡ [ trope ] to do cliche things with them, just because
Dracula
A dark chuckle rumbles from his chest as you slur out your words but he’ll indulge in the inebriation just for a moment.
“Oh you do? Well I imagine they would be protective over one such as lovely as yourself”
Trevor
Chances are he’s a bit drunk but nowhere near as buzzed as you
He’ll be slightly pouty and whiny, clinging onto you tightly, saying stuff like “yeah! and it’s me! Unless there’s someone else eyeing you…!”
Alucard
Maybe slightly annoyed but also stifling his laugh as you speak your mind to him
“Oh you do? They just be worried sick if you’re out here by yourself. Come, I’ll safely return you to them.”
Isaac
Calm demeanor but also with an exasperated look 😑 he tries to keep you steady
“And your lover would very much care if you were away from a crowd of rubes. Here, take my arm.”
Hector
It’s one of the rare occasions you get a genuine smile and laugh from him as he’s holding onto your shoulder
“Yes, love, and it’s me, hurry before you catch a cold or attract more attention.”
𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: reader can grow raven wings to fly. when one of her wings breaks and nobody seems to be able to help, she turns to the last hope she has: Isaac Night.
𝗮/𝗻: this was supposed to be a oneshot again but guess who’s too verbose for that?? 😩 expect more parts!! thank you @flirtysnakes for this idea. i changed a few things, hopefully you don’t mind.
𝘄.𝗰: 2.3k
𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: enemies to lovers. angst. slow-burn. violence. mentions of pain. Isaac goes full psycho mode. captivity/shackles. swearing. suggestiveness. gif not mine.
Everybody has, at least once in their lives, dreamed of flying.
The freedom of going from one place to another, touching the clouds, drifting in the wind, hanging in the air to one’s own will. Mankind has dreamed of that since the dawn of time, since the first human saw birds and felt something they could later label as envy.
But you never felt envy. Because you could fly.
You had been born in an Outcast family descending from an old and very long line of Ravens. At some point during a Raven's life, usually around 15 or 16 years after they'd been born, they would grow wings that could spread to about five feet wide.
This had happened to you a few months ago, a little later than the other members of your family (you were already 18). The years prior, you would sometimes feel a sort of tingling sensation in your shoulder blades. Your family was very expectant once you'd told them about this sensation. You still remember your mother telling you all about the first time she grew her own wings. But one thing she hadn't mentioned was the excruciating pain it caused.
You found out on your own. Earlier this year, before you went back to Nevermore Academy for another year, your wings had spread out one night while out in the forest horse riding — an activity you were very fond of and had been practicing ever since you could remember.
As your beautiful horse galloped through the trees, on a particularly warm night, you'd suddenly felt like your shoulder blades were burning. Before you could stop the horse, the pain got so bad you fell from it. You rolled in the leaves and as you struggled on the ground, on the verge of crying, practically howling from the sensation, you felt something literally growing out of your back.
Hands in the dirt, you slowly turned your head and peered over your right shoulder. Sure enough, a beautiful black wing grew. You suffered there, all alone in the forest, your horse panicking at the sight, until you heard a flapping sound and saw the leaves in your vicinity move a little.
For the first few minutes, back burning, wings feeling heavy, you tried getting up. You tripped on your feet many times before you could finally stand with the new weight on your back. You huffed and puffed like you’d been on a treadmill for three hours and tried flapping your wings. You steadily started levitating, hovering a few centimeters above the dirt and leaves.
It took you the enterity of summer and a few weeks back to Nevermore to learn how to properly fly with your new wings. You’d shown off to all your friends when you came back, so happy to finally be a proper Outcast and most importantly, a Raven.
“We get it, (y/n)!!” said Ophelia, your vampire friend, after you mentioned how heavy your wings had felt the first time. This was probably the fifth time you were telling her the story, voice filled with pride, your laughs escaping you lightly.
You were so happy.
It had been a few weeks since you were back at Nevermore and you were now sitting by a statue in the quad with your small group of friends.
You couldn’t tire of flying. It was so exciting being able to just bring your wings out — even if the process still hurt a little every time you conjured them — and fly, especially since there were only one or two other Ravens in the academy and you didn’t even know them that well.
All you could do was enjoy this power, alone. You had no pack like the other wolves, no clique like the vampires, no sports team like some other Outcasts, except for your small group of friends.
On a wednesday night in the middle of November, you couldn’t fall asleep. You turned, time and time again in your fresh and clean sheets, the sound barely noticeable in the silence, your struggle invisible in the dark. When it was past 2am, you decided to get up and stand on the room’s balcony.
You stood outside, a little cold in your pyjamas — which consisted of a simple low-back white silk nightgown — and stared at the moonless night. It wasn't cloudy, so you could bask in the glory of the stars, enjoying the way they twinkled, like they were inviting you to join them.
Challenge accepted, you smiled as you grew your wings and flapped them, slowly moving away from the balcony. You flew above the school, without ever leaving the premises, steadily gaining speed.
“Okay, let’s see how fast you can get, baby!” you whispered to your wings like they were a separate entity, feeling taken over by the need to challenge yourself.
After a minute or two, you flew so fast everything underneath you became a blur. The wind flapping your hair and your wings moving furiously in your back gave you a sense of freedom that was so much greater than the one you’d felt when horse riding.
You beamed like a madman in the night, laughing as the tears in your eyes dried immediately on your face from the wind. You looped, twirled, did some sorts of funny jumps as you circled around and flew above the forest.
Before you could assess the risks and danger you were putting yourself in, you forcefully dived towards the forest, challenging yourself to dodge the branches of the trees and any obstacle that came your way.
The sound of the flapping of your wings mixed with the wind drowned all the surrounding noise and the wind in your eyes made you nearly blind. But you blinked the fear away and looped and dived and soared skywards before coming back down, again and again. But this time, when you dived back towards the trees, you hit something strong, like steel and heard a painful crack in your right wing.
You gasped, peering over your shoulder as you saw your right wing struggling to flap, half of it bent at an unnatural angle you knew was bad news. You had missed a particulary long and wide branch, in the dark. The air left your lungs as the shock hit you, falling to the ground.
You hit the dirt legs first before the rest of your body followed, arms out in a protective instinct in front of your face. The last thing you remember is your left cheek and hands hitting the forest’s dirty ground. It felt cold, damp, and your wing and back felt abnormally warm.
— 𓅷 —
You woke up to the sound of scribbling on a paper in a dimly lit wooden room.
Before you could turn around to locate yourself, you felt a sting of pain in your neck and realized you were laying on your stomach, left side of your face pinned, arms and legs stretched out on a… table?
You blinked, trying to dismiss the way your pulse thumped in rhythm with the pain you felt in the neck, face, wrists and ankles. You saw that your right arm was stretched out, pinned by the wrist with metal cuffs stuck to the table and you could tell your left arm was too, even if you couldn't see it. It was the case for your ankles as well.
Your breath hitched, panic rising within you, unable to move and when you tried to free your arms from the cuffs, you felt a soaring pain in your back.
You screamed, a short, raw cry as you bit on your lips from the pain.
My wing, you remembered, tears filling your eyes as you tried to look for the scribbling noise you’d heard a few seconds ago.
“Don’t move”.
A young man’s voice.
Were you at the infirmary?
“What’s going on?” you asked, voice cracking, as you wriggled in an attempt to get free, disregarding the advice completely.
“I said do not… move…” the voice shot back, evenly but firmly, and you felt your whole body immobilized on the table.
No part of yours answered to your command to move anymore.
You waited like this, eyes bulging out darting as much as possible, until you perceived a figure in your peripheral vision.
It got closer, now fully in front of you.
It was a young man, adorned in a white blouse like a scientist, with broad shoulders that contrasted with his slender body. You couldn’t tell his height from your position.
He had black curly hair you would have envied if he didn’t freak you the fuck out right now. His face was sharp, nose defined and long, jaw beautifully sculpted, eyes black - or brown, you couldn’t tell with the lack of light, eyebrows long and slightly raised as he observed you.
One of his hands was raised, fingers up pointing towards you like he was controlling you from afar.
What the fuck? you thought before you remembered DaVincis could do this.
He was seriously freaking you out, so you tried your best to steady your breath and said, loud, as confidently as your position could allow you to sound:
“Release me, right now. You have no idea what I’m capable of” you threatened in the hope you’d knock some sense into him.
He only smiled. A slow, small, cocky smile.
“Oh, she fights back!” he mused, eyes twinkling in excitement.
Bastard, you thought. It amused him, seeing you like this.
Then you remembered… you were literally in your nightgown…
Embarrassment flushed your cheeks, as you tried calculating how much he could see of you right now, laid on the table in this very unfavorable position.
“I know exactly what you’re capable of” he added matter of factly, sounding unimpressed, tone cool. “Although I’ll bet it might be a little hard, with a broken wing”.
He was mocking you, you realized in disbelief, forgetting about the nightgown. While your ego was hurt, the news felt like a bucket of iced water thrown on you.
Your wing was broken.
“And if you weren’t so stupid” he continued, spatting the last word, “you would have realized I saved you.”
“Saved me?!” you repeated, unbelieving. “How?!” you practically barked.
“You were all alone, in the woods, at night, with a broken wing. A perfect prey for very hungry animals or… who knows what else” he hissed, hand still hovering in front of him, stopping you from moving. “I’ve been running some tests on it” he added, voice expecting a reaction.
You stared at him, baffled.
“Well, excuse me if it doesn’t really look like you’re saving me right now” you sarcastically spat, eyes motioning to his hand.
He looked at his hand, like he’d forgotten he’d been using his powers on you for the last few minutes and lowered it, eyes never leaving yours.
“Don't move” he warned once more.
You huffed, but felt grateful you could feel your muscles obeying you again. You closed your eyes.
“Please, release me” you said, voice devoid of any anger.
You were in pain, and so tired now, nerves giving up the fight. You opened your eyes, they were filled with tears.
The young man approached and leaned slightly over your body, eyes glued to your shoulder blades. You remembered you were in your nightgown again, and distinctively felt the weight of his eyes on you, a burning sensation coursing through your body, not so much because of the pain rather than his keen observation.
This was humiliating. You couldn't help yourself when you spoke again.
“Could you please, like… not look at me?” you asked, cheeks red.
“Why not?” he asked genuinely, stepping aside to look at your face.
Now that he was closer, you could tell he had brown eyes. You couldn't dwell on them, though.
“Because…”, not wanting to point out the evidently embarrassing situation, you huffed again. “Just… please, untie me. I promise I won't escape” you sighed.
With a swift motion of his hand, all cuffs were unlocked.
You gasped, relieved and slowly rose from the table, using your hands to steady yourself and trying as hard as possible not to think of how short your nightgown was right now.
But when you looked back to the young man, his eyes indeed trailed over your body and you did see them linger a tad bit longer than necessary on your upper legs.
“Oi!” you barked, decidedly angry. “Eyes up”.
He had been so composed and cool since the beginning of your conversation that you hadn't expected him to look so embarrassed. His eyes darted to the floor. You would have laughed if you weren't so tired and in pain.
He brought his hands behind his back, and blinked several times before snapping to your face once you spoke again.
“Listen, what do you want from me?” you sighed once more, the small resolve you’d found back a few seconds ago completely gone already.
He looked at you, jaw clenching and unclenching to his will. He thought, fast and quickly understood you wouldn’t approve of his methods. Why fight you now?
“You should get your wing checked out. Go.” he simply said, voice flat.
You couldn’t decipher the look on his face, your head hurt you, you could barely see clearly. But it felt like he was disappointed he had to set you free.
You stared at him for a while, brows furrowing, wondering what had deterred whatever determination he seemed to have in the beginning. But you seized your chance, got to your feet, wincing slightly in the effort.
The whole time, his gaze hadn't left you. He’d seen the tears in your eyes. Your body seemed so frail, shoulders a little bent in the effort it cost you to get up. It was oddly painful seeing you like this, after he'd seen you fall from the sky earlier when he was on his way back from Iago Tower. He was caught up in his thoughts when he'd noticed a bird flying directly towards him before he heard a crack and saw massive black wings falling on the ground, a few feet away from him.
He'd carefully approached the carcass after it had stopped moving, only to realize it was a human with wings. You looked like a fallen angel before his very eyes and he'd decided he couldn't leave you in the woods alone, even if he couldn't care less whether you lived or died. So he'd brought you to Iago Tower.
He now watched you leave the premises, a strange dissatisfaction sitting on his chest, questions filling his mind.
You carefully treaded away, not glancing once back at him, thankful you could get out of this alive. It was pretty clear to you that he was a fellow Nevermore student, since you had recognized the place as Iago Tower. You imagined him, finding you unconscious in the woods and you shivered at the thought. You really were in danger, out there alone. You pictured him carrying you from the woods to the clock tower and something about this image made you realize he maybe was right… maybe he had saved your life.
But it was only after you'd reached the school infirmary that you realized you didn't even know the boy’s name.
— 𓅷 —
Part 2
taglist: @burningwitchprincess
a/n: i didn’t expect to get so inspired by this!!! hopefully you enjoy this as much as i did. more coming very soon!
summary: seeing isaac between your thighs only happened in your dreams, it could never become a reality... right?
AU: where isaac came back from france and stayed for the rest of the series and everyone is going to the same college
pairings: isaac lahey x reader, isaac lahey x fem! reader
word count: 2.8K
warnings: MINORS DNI, no use of 'y/n', smut, oral fem!receiving, fingering, fluff, reader and isaac being lovesick idiots, implied p in v, characters are aged up to 18+ and in college, title is a lyric from fragile by laufey, kinda edited
a/n: RAHH i haven't written for isaac since july, so apologies if hes a little ooc but i miss him dearly so here's my first smut for him!! again minors please DNI please and thank you <3
but enjoy the fic! please like, comment, and reblog!! your feedback fuels me!
𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘢𝘤 𝘭𝘢𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵
You made eye contact with Isaac’s cerulean eyes as his breath ghosted your bare stomach, making goosebumps rise against your heated skin as he sunk in between your open legs. You let out a shaky breath as you tipped your head back into the plush pillows, breaking the intense gaze between you and Isaac.
You don’t know how you got to this position. Well, you do, but you never thought in a million years that this would be happening. Having Isaac in between your thighs only happened in your dreams and imagination when you had the apartment to yourself and wanted to work off some steam in your room, your vibrator on the highest setting as it worked over your sensitive and swollen clit.
You had the biggest crush on Isaac since you met the scrawny kid in freshman year back at Beacon, since before you were pulled into the supernatural mess with Scott and eventually Isaac himself. But you hid it well. At least, you thought you did until Lydia cornered you one day and confronted you about your crush on him.
You shrugged it off, of course, denying that you had liked him at all and that he was only your best friend, but Lydia was smarter than that, having caught you looking at him longingly as he stared at Allison.
When Allison and Isaac got together, it hurt a lot. The pain of having the guy you liked start dating one of your best friends was one you wouldn’t wish on anyone. But you played it off and only teased Allison about the irony of being a hunter and being into werewolves. She laughed it off, but Lydia could see the pain in your eyes every time Isaac mentioned her or you saw the two of them close to one another.
So when Allison died, you felt conflicted. Half of you was devastated that one of your best friends was gone, forever. But the other half was relieved that she was. You felt so guilty that you felt that way about Allison but kept it to yourself, internalizing it and locking away the information for life.
You knew the toll that Allison’s death took on Isaac, but you guys still had the nogitsune to deal with. Once that was taken care of and you tried to talk to him about what happened with everything that had happened in the past year, he was gone. He fled to France with Allison’s dad. The pack didn’t know if he was going to come back, so you decided to swallow the devastation that flooded your veins at the thought of your best friend not coming back and moving on.
But as the new year started and moving into your second semester of junior year, your eyes met a familiar pair of cerulean ones in the crowded hallways of Beacon Hills High. You felt your heart race at the fact that Isaac came back.
From then on, you never really moved on from him. You tried, but he was always stuck in the back of your mind. Even throughout the craziness of the following year and a half of high school, the two of you stuck by each other and with the pack.
After high school, you and some of the pack members went to the nearest college and decided to live in the same apartment complex. Stiles, Scott, and Isaac lucked out and got a bigger unit than you and Lydia did, but it didn’t matter since they usually came over to your place since it was “cozier.” You scoffed at them because they didn’t bother to furnish their apartment as well as you and Lydia did.
“Hey.” Isaac called out your name softly, making you snap out of your reverie and look back down at him. His warm hands were settled on your thighs as his chin rested on your stomach and his gaze intently staring at you.
Isaac’s were slightly swollen and pinker than usual from the heated make-out session that had started out of nowhere; well, it didn’t start out of nowhere.
It was a Saturday night, and you didn’t feel like going out with the rest of the pack, so you decided to stay in and relax. You had expected Isaac to go with them, but to your surprise, he stayed with you.
It was slightly awkward at first. The two of you hadn’t hung out for a while without the rest of the pack hovering around you since he came back from France. It’s not like you actively avoided spending one-on-one time, but you guys drifted apart when he came back, and the active threats to Beacon Hills didn’t help with the space between the two of you.
You tried not to show that you were nervous around him, knowing he could hear if your heartbeat was erratic or not. You had planned to watch a movie in your room, so you invited him and joked that it would be like when we used to before he became a werewolf and hid in your room for a couple of hours before he had to go back to his place.
The smile Isaac gave you at your invite had destroyed the plan of masking your fondness for him, feeling your heartbeat slightly faster at the sight of it.
You sat next to Isaac when you finished setting up the movie, the two of you resting against your headboard, shoulders brushing against each other as the two of you settled in your queen-sized bed.
You kept your eyes trained on the TV, the opening sequence of Iron Man flicking through the LCD screen. But Isaac couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, taking in your features being illuminated by the dim lighting of the fairy lights you hung around your room. He smiled, remembering your dislike for overhead lighting and preference for mood lighting.
You took a chance, glancing at Isaac and finding that his gaze was already on you. You turned your head slightly to meet his eyes.
“What?” You murmured.
Isaac raised his hand hesitantly, brushing a wayward hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear before resting his palm against your cheek. You almost shivered at the soft caress of his thumb against the apple of your cheek.
“Nothing.” Isaac said with a half smile on his face, slowly inching his face closer to you.
You raised an eyebrow at him, trying to be unphased by his touch. “Really? Because you’re not watching the movie.”
“You know I don’t care for Marvel.” Isaac smirked.
“Then why do you sit through the movies with me?”
“Because you like them.” Isaac stated as if it was obvious while shrugging.
You looked at him dumbly, your mouth slightly agape. Isaac chuckled lowly before he moved his hand from your cheek to the nape of your neck and rested his forehead against yours.
Your eyes fluttered shut involuntarily as you felt his breath fan against your lips.
“Can I kiss you?” Isaac whispered.
Instead of giving him a verbal answer, you placed your lips against his, drawing him into a soft kiss. It was a short and sweet kiss, but it contrasted how your body filled with heat at the feeling of his plush lips against yours.
Both of you pulled away, your eyes meeting for a brief moment before your lips collided once more. The kiss was filled with passion and all of the unsaid emotions that you guys had yet to admit to one another.
Your body had a mind of its own as your lips moved against Isaac’s. You moved to straddle his lap as your hands dived into his blonde curls while his hands made their way to your hips, guiding you to his lap. The warmth of his hands seeped through the fabric of the sweatpants you were wearing.
You felt Isaac’s tongue swipe at the seam of your lips, a silent request that you accepted. You moaned softly at the feeling of Isaac’s tongue softly intertwining against yours. You unconsciously ground your heated core against the growing bulge in his jeans. Isaac let out a low hiss, making the two of you pull apart from one another, a string of spit connecting the two of you before it broke.
You couldn’t help but the giddy smile that broke out on your face, your stomach flipping at the sight of Isaac’s wide grin as his hands moved from your hips to the hem of the shirt you were wearing.
He tugged on it slightly, the unsaid question written in Isaac’s eyes. You nodded, and he slowly pulled it off of you, exposing your bare chest to him. You saw his gaze widen slightly, and you let out a small giggle at his reaction.
Isaac smiled wider at the sound of your small laugh, his heart swelling with love, and he laughed a bit when he felt you tug at his own shirt. He leaned up from the headboard and shed his own shirt, your palms settling against his chest once the offending item of clothing was flung across the room.
Isaac had a sly smile on his face, and before you could question him, you let out a small yelp as he used his werewolf strength and agility to put you on your back. He hovered over you before he drew you into a kiss that left you breathless. But it only lasted for a moment before Isaac trailed his lips down your jaw. He nipped and kissed at the skin of your neck before moving down your collarbone and towards your breasts.
Isaac left teasing kisses in the valley of your chest as his hands moved from your sides and to the waistband of your sweatpants.
He looked up at you, his breath fanning over the slightly wet skin of your chest. “Can I take these off baby?”
You felt yourself melt at the softness of his tone and the pet name. “Yeah.” You gave him a gentle smile.
Instead of responding, Isaac left a tender kiss next to where your heart was and slowly pulled down your sweatpants. As every new inch of you was exposed, Isaac kissed the skin as if it was fragile. You couldn’t help but the lump that grew in your throat at how tender Isaac was being.
Isaac called your name again. He was looking down at you, chin no longer resting on your stomach. Isaac was hovering over you again, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. “You alright? We don’t have to keep going if you don’t want to.”
“M’fine.”
“You sure?”
You hesitated, biting your bottom lip. “Just-” You inhaled sharply. “I don’t know if this is going to be a one time thing.”
Isaac shook his head. “Trust me, it isn’t for me. Is it for you?” He asked, nerves coloring his tone.
“No!” You almost shouted before you cringed at your volume and cleared your throat. “No, I’ve been embarrassingly in love with you for a long time.” You admitted sheepishly.
The grin that was on Isaac’s face was blinding. He kissed you hard before pulling back. “Thank god.” He breathed out, relieved. “I’ve felt the same way for a long time. Ever since I came back to Beacon.”
You didn’t have any words to respond with, so you put your hands on his cheeks and kissed him, pouring all of the love and adoration you had for him over the years into it. Isaac couldn’t help but smile into the kiss before he deepened the kiss and blanketed your body with his, his bulge grinding against your clothed cunt.
You moaned at the feeling of his denim-clad bulge brushing against your heated cunt, your underwear almost soaked through as the two of you made out. Isaac broke the kiss and eventually made his way back in between your legs, his heated stare directed at the wet patch in your panties.
He threw your legs over your shoulder as his face drew closer to your cunt, leaving feather-light kisses on your inner thighs. You could feel yourself clenching around nothing in anticipation. Isaac started to kiss you lightly through the wet fabric, making you moan softly.
“Shit, you’re so wet.” He breathed out before taking one of his hands and pulling your underwear to the side, exposing your soaked core to him.
You could see the hunger in his eyes as he stared at your cunt. “Fuck, you’re so pretty.” Isaac praised, and you clenched at his words, biting your lip in hopes of keeping the whine that threatened to escape your mouth.
Isaac couldn’t help but smirk at your reaction, but instead of teasing you, wanting to save it for next time, he leaned forward and pressed a sloppy kiss to your clit, and your hands went to fist at your comforter.
A breathy moan left the confines of your throat, and Isaac licked a strip from your slit to your sensitive nub, collected the slick leaking from you, and swirled his warm tongue around your clit. He drew it into his mouth, sucking on it softly.
One of your hands left the mattress to clutch at his hair, a low moan emanating from the boy in between your legs. The noise sends vibrations to your cunt and fills your veins with pleasure. Your cries and whines filled the room as Isaac ate you out like a man starved. You had barely registered that the bed was moving slightly due to Isaac rutting against the mattress and that he had ripped your panties off of you and completely dove into you, his tongue deep in you as he thumbed at your clit, wanting to wring out as much pleasure from you as possible.
“Oh fu-uck.” Both of your hands were in his hair at this point. “Shit, Isaac.” You could barely form words between your moaning, the heat in your core building rapidly at his ministrations.
Isaac smirked internally and moved his mouth to suck at your clit as he inserted a finger in you, the tugging at his hair and your moans spurring him on to try and make you cum.
“Isaac.” You whined at the feeling of your cunt finally being filled.
He quickly added a second finger, slowly thrusting in and out of your slick cunt. “Yeah, baby?” Isaac asked, pulling away for a moment, kissing your inner thigh, and tilting his head to look up at you. He could stare at your blissed-out face forever, it being the second most beautiful thing he’s ever seen from you (the first one being your smile).
“I-i need to- fuck!” A choked moan leaves your lips as Isaac’s fingers brush against your g-spot.
Isaac grinned. “Need what? You gotta tell me what you want sweetheart.”
Through the haze of lust, you could hear the teasing tone of his words, but you didn’t care. “Please, let me cum.”
“There you go, pretty girl.” Isaac began to pump his fingers harder, making sure to hit your g-spot with every thrust, and latched onto your swollen nub again.
“Fuck!” You felt the knot in your core threatening to snap. You were practically writhing in your bed, sweat coating your body as Isaac continued to finger you.
“I’m-I’m-”
“Let go sweetheart.” Isaac mumbled into your folds before pressing hard against your g-spot and sucking your clit hard.
The knot snapped, and a keening whine left your lips. Your warm walls clenched against Isaac’s fingers. His fingers slowed, working you through your orgasm until it subsided. He pulled his fingers out of you gently, mindful of your tender cunt. He peppered small kisses on your thighs, trailing up your body, waiting for you to come down from your intense high.
You felt Isaac shift, resting next to you, and his hand brushed away the hairs that were stuck to your slightly damp forehead. You opened your eyes to find Isaac looking down at you with a gentle but shy smile on his face.
You couldn’t help the quiet laugh that escaped your lips at how bashful Isaac was being and placed a hand on his cheek and pulled him down for a kiss, uncaring if you could taste yourself on him.
Your lips melded with his, and you felt like you could kiss him forever; his lips were soft and warm against yours. Before you knew it, the kiss grew heated again. Isaac’s jeans were soon discarded, and his deep groans joined the chorus of moans that left you and filled your room as the two of you drew pleasure from each other.
Wolf whistles and clapping were your wake-up call the following day, your friends loitering outside of your room as they saw you and Isaac wrapped up in one another underneath your sheets.
[here’s my taglist; read rules before sending in an ask]
Isaac s/o being sick and always in the hospital, to the point her hospital room is decorated with pictures artwork, get well soon cards, covering the wall. When he visits her on the weekends he always brings her flowers and stuff from the coffee shop.
he tells her about school and his sister, and they just talk and spend time together.
When Isaac dies mortica comes to visit his lover in the hospital
she has a weak heart so mortica lies to her and tells her Isaac, is just busy and he’ll come and visit soon.
So as mortica leaves his s/o, asks her to tell him that she misses him a lot and that, she loves him. mortica is fighting back tears and tells her she will.
leaving his s/o waiting and waiting for Isaac to come and visit her, and he never does making her think that he doesn't love her anymore. She writes letters but they go unanswered she tries to call the school but gets no response.
she cries herself to sleep every night crying into her pillow, clutching a photo of then when she wasn't in the hospital. Until one night she passes away in her sleep.
I'm just imagining Isaac coming back looking for her to only find her grave…
Oh… and on the desk of Isaac in his lab was a blueprint for a new heart he wanted to make his s/o becuz she was slowly dying 🥲😫
