pairing: isaac night x fem!reader /third person pov
content warnings: +18 MDNI!!!, heavy making-out, hickeeeys (isaac loves to bruise his girl), no actual smut - a nice amount of dry humping, brief mention of reader giving head to isaac, pet names for reader(love, sweet/good girl, swertheart), english isn't my native language- sorry for any mistake
- Mhm... I-Isaac-
- Shhhh, quiet, love. Don't you want to be good for me?
The rasp of his voice making her shudder, hands gripping the sheets below her. Isaac's eyes glinted in the faint lightning, appreciating the shadows catching on the skin of her neck, so ethereal, on full display just for him. His thumbs drew little, light circles over her hipbones, then with one hand, he reached for hers. Gently guiding the back of her hand to ghost his lips over each of her knuckles, the action making her breath catch, heart filling with warmth.
He slowly guided her hand then to his shoulder, already reaching for her other which still gripped his sheets, coaxing her palm open, only to repeat his actions. A silent plea to feel her touch him.
The parting of her lips was an open invitation, leaning down, he captured them with ease, tongue asking for entry. Isaac began to trace his fingertips over her jawline, her pretty neck so clean of his affections now - something he surely has to remedy soon -, over her collarbones, then back up again to cup her cheek into his palm.
He swallowed every pretty sigh of hers, every sound like he was starving for them. She was so lovely like this, so responsive, so very much his. His knees pressed her thighs apart, lowering himself to grind his hips where she desperately needed his attention. The moan that escaped her had him dizzy, sucking her lower lip into his mouth, palms stroking lovingly over her sides to her hips to press them down onto the mattress, to keep her from exhausting herself. She could never keep still, not like this with him so close where she needed him. Not tonight, tonight he wanted to be the only one who coaxed out her pleasure, he needed her to be his perfect pillow princess, so he could focus on every little detail of her enjoyment.
He grazed his teeth over her lips, licked into her mouth, traced her tongue with his own, all the while his hips kept up a generous rhythm, his clothed desire evident against her soaked panties. The sounds that escaped her were heavenly, had him straining for more, but he had other plans. The insatiable need to decorate his sweet girl with his affections, a reminder for her that she's his and his only. He slowly broke the kiss, the whine that fell from her in protest had him smirking, eyes darkening, hips pushing sensually, grinding against her clit with every pass.
- Oh my, what a needy girl. - he voiced his faux sympathy, thumbs tracing her parted, swollen lips, wiping away their mixed saliva from the corners of her mouth. She chased him with her tongue, licking at his thumb, eyes fluttering shut, lashes grazing her cheeks. - If you can be good for me now and stay still until my work's finished, I'll let you wrap those pretty lips around me.
Her eyes opened, glazed over as just the thought of having him inside her mouth coaxed a breathy moan from her, his palm swiftly covering her mouth, clicking his tongue in disappointment.
- What did I tell you, sweet girl? I need you to be quiet or this will be over all too soon.
- Yes, Isaac...
- That's my good girl.
His smile was predatory, eyes raking over her features, every little detail now committed to memory. He slowly traced her chin to which she responded immediately, baring her pretty neck for him. He hummed in approval, leaning down to trail his tongue over her throat before wrapping his lips around her pulse point, sucking it gently, before slowly growing rougher. He could feel the blood thumping through her veins, her heartbeat fast, the rise and fall of her chest urgent as his hips rewarded her obedience, his hardness grinding against her with unrelenting force. Soft fingertips grazing his scalp, pushing him closer, tangling in his wavy hair, so out of place now. She worried her lips between her teeth to muffle her sweet sounds, which would have him frustrated had him not needing her to be quiet.
After he finished, he pulled back to see the pretty artwork he created, tracing it with fingertips.
- Plenty more of these to come... You'll look so lovely only wearing me all over you, sweetheart.
Her breaths coming in short gasps, hands working to pull him down to her, to capture his lips again. He obliged, giving a few pecks, no real kisses, before returning to her soft skin. He gave her gentle nips, some rough bites against her collarbone, tongue licking all the places that left her aching. The way her hips couldn't keep still had him use his hands again to pin her down in place. She was sure he will bruise her with the sheer force of keeping her in place.
He sucked her skin into his mouth greedily, peppering her with his lovebites where all eyes could see, marking her his with every bruise he gifted her so lovingly.
With the steady tempo of his hips driving against her soaked-through underwear, his tongue and teeth lavishing her, it was impossible to muffle her whiny moans, hands gripping his shoulders, his hair, nails grazing the nape of his neck, palms sliding over the expanse of his back, then over his chest trying to yank his button-up off of him. Isaac obliged her desperation, sliding off of her to get the material off quickly, then laying back down, capturing her lips, calloused fingertips sliding the pathetically wet panties to the side so that the rough fabric of his pants could rub agains her needy folds, spreading her slick all over her lovely thighs. Her hands pulling him impossibly closer, their chests colliding, the bite of the coldness where his clockwork heart worked frantically making her shiver with delight.
He swallowed her quiet whimpers, oversensitivity bleeding in as their desperation grew.
He only broke the kiss to whisper into her ear before gently giving it a bite and a tug:
- So perfect when you let me bruise you, my sweet girl.
can't believe he's 1 pink fridge tall.. i mean his height is kinda monstruos in contrast to his puppy-eyed boyish face. also u just know he smell so nice and fresh like minty shaving cream/aftershave & men perfume and lastly i fear he's much more sassy, fancy & stylish in canon than we portray him even. (and sensitive!!) it's a realization i've come to have this week after the "thing's bday gifts" article... at some point the series's costume designers mentioned on yt how wednesday isn't "that girl" and so they don't do anything too cunty for her wadrobe but i do think isaac is "that girl"
note aside it seems he's quite sentimental & emotional too so that's my new headcanon ("wednesday has never been one to indulge in sentimentality, i suppose i expect those i love to read my mind")
I have a strange request, a spit kink fic. Like the reader is dating Isaac and she sees him drinking from a straw or sucking on a lollipop and sees some spit dribble from his mouth (accidentally). So later on in bed she ask him to spit in her mouth/on her tongue and Isaac is confused at first then it starts to turn him on. And then maybe afterwards he’s like “so that’s why you were staring at me earlier” or something cocky like that.
Tysm for the request <3 Inspiration struck, so I didn't go with a straw or a lollipop XD Hope you enjoy!
Seeds
Story Warnings: Smut! Minors DNI! Fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, spit kink
Dividers by @saradika-graphics, @lariesographic & @kodaswrld <3
Isaac Night was the farthest thing from a natural creature of the summer. His lack of affinity for sunlight was suggested outright in his surname, reinforced emphatically by the pasty pallor of his sparsely pigmented complexion. Needlessly dramatic and averse to even the mildest discomforts of the outdoors, dragging him into the wild to celebrate the beauty of a temperate spring day became an ordeal you almost wished you wouldn't have seen fit to subject yourself to.
Almost.
For all Isaac's under-breath grumbling and overblown groaning, his exasperation proved more amusing than annoying as the outdoor lunch went on. He could have blended in perfectly with the vampires cringing unhappily under the little shade afforded by the trees dotting the park, but for the t-shirt and shorts you'd coerced him into. Sunglasses hid a good quarter of the long face he maintained to announce his displeasure with your insistence on forcing him to endure the fresh open air. Hands shoved deep into his pockets, skin still slippery and glistening from the generous coating of sunscreen he slathered on prior, his disgruntlement could hardly have been more pronounced.
"... so much homework to do... rather be in my lab... ugh, it's so hot out here, so muggy, whoever had this idea should be-"
"Isaac!"
You interrupted the litany of his discontent with the temptation of food, only to be met with a new flurry of complaints. You hooked your elbow through his and towed him back to a picnic style table.
"Stop whining and have some watermelon," you rolled your eyes at him.
"I hate watermelon," he informed you flatly.
"Whaaat? You do not, I've seen you eat it before."
"Seedless watermelon, sure. What's this?"
Illustratively, Isaac scowled down at the slices you hoped to share with him, mottled deep green rind and vibrant red flesh dotted with conspicuous black spots.
"Oh come on, they're not that bad," you reasoned. "They don't taste like anything. Just pick off the ones on the outside and spit out the ones on the inside."
"I prefer my food efficient and easy to ingest," Isaac griped. "If I wanted to waste my time on food prep, I'd work in a kitchen."
"Just eat the melon," you giggled, unfazed by his bellyaching. "It's yummy."
You picked up a perfectly triangular piece and nudged his mouth with the sharply pointed tip. Somewhat grainy, still crisp enough not to give easily, the fruit pressed temporary indentations against lips tightly drawn by the mask of his reticence.
"Open up or you're gonna get juice all down your chin," you teased him, playfully threatening.
Isaac let his sunglasses slide far enough down the bridge of his nose to fix you with a stare that mixed outright consternation with grudging enjoyment. He didn't want to budge from his stalwart grumpiness, but he couldn't help himself when you plied him with your light-hearted, easy-going affections.
"Come on, loosen up and have some," you encouraged him persistently. "You only live once."
"What if I want to live neatly and not drown in sticky juice and yucky black seeds?" Isaac chuckled. Despite his facetious resistance, your undeterred charms were, as ever, quickly defeating his tendencies to avoid casual fun and relaxation.
"Boooring!" you snored. "Get some juice on your face! Feel the grass between your toes! The wind on your face! But don't spit your watermelon seeds into the wind. Duh."
"Mm, juice on my face does sound enticing... but what if I asked for a menu option apart from melon?" Isaac teased provocatively. The humorous waggle of his eyebrows and the mischievous gleam in his eyes when he finally accepted the watermelon had you giggling harder than ever.
"Be good for me at this shindig and I'll be good for you later when we excuse ourselves," you offered him tantalizingly.
"Oh, well in that case..."
Isaac set in with a gusto that seemed too theatrical to be genuine, but you were disinclined to complain after so much cajoling.
"That's more like it," you purred happily.
The gentle, cool spring breeze caressed your skin and ruffled Isaac's hair while he navigated the mess of his watermelon. Conversations and the laughter of your peers provided a delicately humming background soundtrack. The sun on your skin was warm but subtle, interrupted by the occasional, lazy passage of cottony clouds. You savored it all in conjunction with delicious taste of fruit that you munched at a more leisurely pace than your sardonic date.
Isaac scrunched his face up with distaste, turned aside and emphatically spat a single seed into the grass. The sight stunned you with its inexplicably sensual appeal. Isaac licked his lips gratuitously, apparently unaware that he had shattered your innocent revelry in one fell swoop and left you hot under the collar. He went back to slurping and sucking spongy red flesh with an enjoyment you couldn't help but stare agog at.
He did it again and you could only blink hard, your own half-eaten melon forgotten as you gaped at him. You weren't shocked at the action so much as your own primal reaction to it. Lust fluttered, fanning out through your veins and simmering in your loins while you looked on as respectfully as possible.
"You're right, this isn't so bad," Isaac admitted obliviously. Every time he spit out another seed, he did it more forcefully, more confidently. You watched with perverse fascination, unaware of how salacious your expression had grown while you admired the spectacle.
"Hey, think I can spit this next seed all the way past that tree?" Isaac wondered playfully.
"Babe, stop, you're killing me," you giggled.
"I am?" Isaac asked, surveying your stricken features and nervous posture. He was instantly puzzled and it showed clearly on his face. "What? Did I do something wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?"
Clearly, he had mistaken the source of your mortification, misattributed it to some untoward mannerism of his. He glanced down, inspected his appearance reflexively to ascertain the cause of your unabashed gaping. In reality, you were only embarrassed to find yourself so turned on in such a public space. Classmates ambled by without sparing you a second glance and you took comfort in the fact that Isaac seemed to be the only one who'd noticed how flustered you were becoming.
"Don't worry about it, you didn't... whew, it's a little hot out here, huh?" you stammered. "I should, uh... we should... what do you think, this has been enough socializing for one outing, right? We can excuse ourselves and it won't seem weird. I mean, more likely than not, no one'll even notice we're gone, right? Isaac, right?"
"Well, I'm not gonna complain, this whole excursion was your idea anyway," he shrugged. "But seriously, do I have something on my face? You're looking at me funny."
He dabbed at his cheeks uncertainly with a napkin while you shook your head dismissively.
"You're fine, there's nothing you- can you meet me back at my room?"
"I guess, but-"
"Nice, you make your excuses and I'll make mine, and we'll just- great, that's great!"
Isaac was frozen with uncertainty, questions half-formed in his open mouth while you leaped to your feet, pecked a quick kiss to his cheek and darted off. You left him in your dust, still holding his half-eaten portion of watermelon.
"Weirder every week," he muttered to himself, more fond than derisive.
"So are you gonna tell me what the fire is, or what?" Isaac smirked.
The smugness permeating his expression told you he already had a pretty good idea.
You greeted him with a cheeky giggle and a kiss, hauled him fully into your room with a high, uncontainable little squeal of excitement.
"Your dorky shorts and nerdy, unshaved legs are driving me crazy," you joked. Even as you spoke, your hands flew over his garments, demanding that he lose them.
"Flattering, thanks," Isaac laughed, even as he went along enthusiastically with your zeal. "Wow, if I would have known the fresh air would make you this frisky, I would have been much more amenable to- uh!"
You collapsed backward onto your bed and dragged him down with you unceremoniously. He went with you eagerly, shifting over your body to accommodate your continued assault on your remaining clothes. With Isaac's lips fixed fervently to yours, the image of him spitting flashed in your imagination. Heat flushed and flared anew under your skin, blossomed from every place his palms found on your bared flesh.
"I guess I should invest in more shorts," Isaac quipped between breathless, hurried kisses. "If seeing me wearing them got you this excited..."
"Actually..."
You hesitated, wondering for a moment if you would regret telling Isaac the truth. Was it weird enough that he would judge you for it?
Then again, you thought with a shiver of delight, what if he was just as into it as you were?
"Actually?" Isaac prompted curiously.
He gathered your wrists over your head, taking control as easily as though he was entitled to it. He paused, poised over your yearning figure with nothing but underwear containing your mirrored arousals. You bit your lip, arched up against his form and savored the heat of him, the supple give of flesh and hard lines of muscle pulled taut while he restrained you subtly. He nudged your legs farther apart with one knee and the simple action sent enticement coursing through you, white hot and electric.
"I don't know if you'll think it's weird," you admitted, breaking eye contact while you flirted with the idea of telling him what you wanted.
"Well if you don't spit it out, we'll never know," Isaac chuckled. "Come on, tell me..."
He trailed off and pressed a scorching, open-mouthed kiss to the trembling column of your throat.
"Funny you would phrase it like that," you gasped. "'Cause... um... well..."
"Mm-hm?"
Isaac was utterly preoccupied with the worship of your flesh, his mouth lathing and sucking across your collar, down lower until your bra frustrated his wet advances. His hips bucked between your legs and you whimpered out loud at the sensation of his hardness rubbing your crotch.
"I just... thought it was really sexy... watching you spit, earlier," you managed.
"Spit?" Isaac wondered without disrupting the rhythm of his affections. The single word was muffled slightly against your skin. He released your wrists so he could palm your breasts through your bra while you sighed your contentment and pressed up into his grasp.
"Y-yeah, when you were... mm!"
Isaac's hands massaging your breasts and his mouth greedily seeking your nipples felt so amazing that you momentarily lost the thread of your thought. You played indulgently, absent-mindedly in his curls while he divested you of the bra and flung it away carelessly only to dive back in exuberantly.
"Sure, that is kind weird," Isaac mumbled from between your boobs. Your expression fell while he was too distracted to notice. He went on before disappointment could truly set in. "But I mean, if I didn't like weird things we wouldn't be together, so..."
"I'm not weird!" you protested. "But... I mean, if you were into it too... the spit thing, I mean..."
"That's what got you so wet?" Isaac purred, self-satisfaction only growing as his fingers crept beneath the band of your panties to slide through the maddening arousal that you had been contending with since the picnic. The pitch of your whimpers deepened, dragged long until he was pulling true moans from you with nothing more than a finger or two. You repaid him with pure pleasure for the way he spoiled you, infiltrated his underwear and wrapped your hand brazenly around his erection.
"You always drive me crazy, you know that," you teased him.
Between the distraction of pumping you slowly with his fingers and pressing harder into your grip, Isaac had a good idea. It surprised you when he reached for your wrist and pulled your hand out of his briefs, but that surprise spiked farther into tantalization when he pursed his lips and spit into the palm of your hand. He kept his eyes fixed to your face while he did it, gauging your reaction, measuring your enjoyment. You shivered violently, lust pulsing anew as the raw, irrational sensuality of the gesture stoked the flames of your excitement.
Isaac smirked at you outright while he guided your hand back to his cock, pushed eagerly into your touch while doing nothing to hide his satisfaction with himself.
"You just got even wetter, I can feel it," he pointed out.
He crooked his fingers inside you, as if you needed any demonstration of the obscene slick seeping from around the digits he had squishing through your sticky juices and pliant, burning flesh. It was all you could do to moan, high and desperate, while you bucked into the contact and moved your hand faster between his legs. Your strokes were more erratic than you wanted them to be, but the distraction of Isaac's smugness and the depth he was carving into you with every push of his fingers made it hard to focus on what your hand was doing.
You could tell he was scheming by the glint in his dark eyes, hooded by desire and boring into you from above. He closed his fingers around your throat, mouth parted with admiration as he caressed your face, traced your jaw, brushed over your lips while he licked his own. You'd never seen him this thoughtful in the middle of love-making.
Isaac's attentions grew rougher on a dime. The snap of his wrist as his fingers drove into you left you gasping for breath while he loomed over you, closer every second. The hand he had on your face settled, gripped your jaw firmly enough to command your focus. You met his eyes and the clarity of his voracity collided starkly with the haze of your mounting pleasure.
"Open your mouth for me," he rasped.
You obeyed him thoughtlessly, heart skipping a few beats between exertion and anticipation. Was he going to...
Isaac pursed his lips again, but hesitated. He cocked his head to the side slightly, one eyebrow quirked by the barest centimeter. A question so subtle you would have missed it if your entire attention wasn't fully invested in what he was doing to your body. Isaac was checking for permission, wordlessly seeking dissent rather than explicitly asking consent.
Not one to leave room for misinterpretation, you removed all ambiguity by sticking your tongue out enthusiastically for him.
Isaac spit directly into your waiting mouth, loosed a moan of his own when he felt you clamping around the fingers he still had buried in you to their farthest knuckles. You felt him throb in your grip, tightened your hold on him while you licked the spray of his degeneracy from your lips with the utmost relish.
"Do it again!" you begged, panting even as the motion of his fingers slowed to a crawl. Isaac was too distracted by the need to sate his own carnal drives, rutting into the palm of your hand like an animal driven past reason by the igniting spark of your depravity.
"Fuck, we're sick," he groaned.
He did it again, but his aim was off this time, harried by the quick jerk of your hand over his erection and his own spastic attempts to meet the friction. His spit hit your cheek, slick and hot. It was your turn to moan, worked up beyond the reach of reason even before he mumbled a rushed apology and dove down to lick your skin clean.
Finally at the end of his rope with the teasing, Isaac collapsed atop you and moved your last, flimsy layer of clothing aside just far enough to thrust between your legs. The sensation of his cock filling you emptied your mind effectively of all thought, reduced you to a whimpering mess beneath his straining weight while he fucked you. He kissed you deep and sloppy, rushed and desperate, tongue pressing past yours while spit swapped and strung between your open mouths. The impact of his hips against yours jostled you hard between him and the mattress, took your breath away with every rough knock of his flesh into yours.
Part of you wanted to beg him to spit again, but you were too far gone to get the words out, lost between the ecstasy of his cock massaging your taut, desperate walls and the ravage of his mouth on yours. Isaac kissed you like he was just as turned on by the idea of your saliva as you were his, demanded your presence in his mouth like you'd unlocked some new shared fantasy by letting him defile you in such a novel way.
You were used to Isaac making sure you came before him, but something frantic and perverse had overtaken your boyfriend. He surrendered between your legs, pressed deep to spill the fruits of his orgasm while he alternated between gasping for breath past your unrelenting lips and moaning his abandon down your throat. You barely had time to realize he'd finished before he was murmuring reassurances at your ear, struggling to catch his breath in the wake of his brief, frenetic passions.
Isaac pulled out abruptly, only to replace his cock with his fingers again. He went back to fucking you without missing a beat, so zealous in his pursuit of your climax that you almost laughed at him. As it was, the sound that actually escaped you was high and breathless, stuttering to the rhythm of his sharp thrusts.
"Tell me I can do it again!" he panted.
His desperation took some of the fun out of it, but you opened your mouth for him anyway. An act that should have been so dominant it toed the line of abuse bowed under the weight of Isaac's reverence until it was inarguably intimate. He chased every droplet of his dubious disrespect with kisses, scraping his tongue against yours like he was trying to clean away the stain of his iniquity. The squelches and slaps filling the air as he fingered you through the mess of his own quick climax faded into background noise, soft in comparison to the lewd moans he was dragging out of you. He matched them breath for breath, transfixed by your willingness, entranced by your new fetish.
It wasn't long before you came for him with his tongue scourging your mouth and your hand darting down to hold his wrist steady while you clenched helplessly around his fingers and arched wildly beneath him. His kisses muffled your cries and his free hand caressed meanderingly, endearing with its subconscious efforts to soothe your fervor. Your pleasure peaked and waned, echoed by moans that crescendoed and tapered down while Isaac tried to swallow every last vibration like the sound of your rapture was a delicacy all its own.
Your mouth moved against Isaac's for a long time after you were both finished. Your tongues played together, lazy and eager in turn. Your locked lips suckled and slicked in turn as you licked and lathed, took turns trading the essence of your depravity while you wound down from your disparate orgasmic highs.
"You made me weird," Isaac finally accused you.
"You were weird when we met," you laughed, rolling your eyes at his interpretation of events.
"Not this weird."
"Me neither, I think. At least we're getting weirder together," you sighed.
"Hm. That's something, at least. Hey, open your mouth for me again," Isaac grinned salaciously.
You couldn't grin and comply at the same time, so you took a third route and kissed him again instead.
Isaac night’s kids inheriting his features and mannerisms
When people first met your kids, they couldn’t help but do a double take. Those dark, curly locks framed their little faces exactly like Isaac’s, and their deep brown eyes seemed to hold that same quiet intensity—and that same mischievous sparkle—that had always been his hallmark. Even in the way they tilted their heads when curious, or furrowed their brows when concentrating, it was unmistakably Isaac.
Your two-year-old, who still clutched a stuffed animal wherever they went, had a habit of mimicking Isaac without realizing it. When Isaac gestured dramatically while telling a story, your toddler’s tiny arms flailed in the exact same way, prompting both of you to laugh. “Looks like someone’s been taking notes,” Isaac whispered, ruffling their curls.
Even the littlest quirks came through. One child had Isaac’s habit of leaning slightly to the side while listening, silently absorbing every word. Another had his tendency to furrow their brow when puzzled but then light up with that sly smile when figuring it out. You often caught Isaac watching them, a soft grin on his face, murmuring, “It’s like looking in a mirror… but better.”
Their voices carried shades of his too. Whether it was the quiet intensity when they were focused or the playful teasing when they were joking, it was unmistakably Isaac in miniature. And even their laughter—the warm, low chuckle that could fill a room—was the same infectious sound that had made your heart race years ago.
Isaac was full of pride and quiet wonder, sometimes pausing mid-sentence just to watch them interact. “They’ve got my looks, my eyes… and already my stubborn streak,” he’d tease with a soft chuckle. But then, brushing a curl off a tiny forehead, he’d whisper, “And hopefully some of my patience too… though maybe just a little.”
Watching him with the kids, it was clear—they weren’t just his children in blood—they were his little versions walking, laughing, and discovering the world, carrying pieces of him in every expression, every gesture, every glance.
Pregnant reader being enamored watching Isaac use his powers
Isaac stood in the middle of the room, one hand loosely raised as he focused on the small collection of metal tools on the workbench. Without touching them, he flexed his fingers slightly. The wrench lifted off the table. A screwdriver followed, rotating slowly in the air beside it. You were sitting a few feet away, curled up in a chair with one hand resting on your pregnant belly. And you were staring. Not subtly either. Your eyes were wide, completely focused on him as the tools drifted gently through the air like they weighed nothing. Isaac felt it before he even looked at you. Your gaze. He glanced over his shoulder.
“…You’re staring,” he said calmly. You immediately blinked, startled. “I—no I’m not.” The screwdriver in the air turned lazily as he raised an eyebrow.
“You are,” he replied. You shifted in your seat, cheeks turning pink. “I just… like watching you do that.”
Isaac let the tools float back down onto the table with soft clinks before turning fully toward you. His eyes moved slowly over you—your relaxed posture, the way your hand was rubbing your belly absentmindedly, the shy fascination on your face.
“You’ve seen me use telekinesis before,” he said.
“I know,” you murmured. “But it’s still… amazing.” You gestured slightly toward the tools. “You don’t even touch them.” Isaac stepped closer, folding his arms loosely.
“You look like you’re watching a magic show.” Your lips curved a little.
“Well… you kind of are magic.”He huffed quietly through his nose. But then his eyes softened.
“You’ve been staring for five minutes.” Your blush deepened.
“I didn’t realize it was that long.” Isaac moved until he was standing right in front of your chair. You tilted your head up to look at him.
“…Do you want to try something?” he asked. Your eyes widened immediately. “What?”
He picked up a small bolt from the table and held it out in his palm.
“Put your hand under mine.”
You hesitated, then slowly slid your hand beneath his. Isaac focused again. The bolt lifted from his palm. You gasped quietly as it floated down and settled into your open hand. Your fingers curled around it quickly like it might disappear.
“That’s so cool,” you whispered. Isaac watched your reaction, the small smile tugging at his mouth.
“You’re adorable when you’re fascinated.” You looked up at him shyly.
“I just… think you’re really impressive.” Isaac’s expression softened even more. His hand moved instinctively to your belly, resting there gently.
“You carrying our baby is far more impressive.” You smiled softly at that. But your eyes still flicked back toward the workbench. Isaac noticed.
“…You’re still thinking about the floating tools.” You nodded sheepishly. “…Maybe a little.”
He sighed with exaggerated patience. Then raised his hand again. This time three tools lifted into the air. You gasped again. Isaac smirked slightly.
Isaac was sitting at the table, reading through a few papers and making notes in the margin. The room was quiet except for the faint scratch of his pen. Across the room, you were curled up on the couch. And staring at him. At first he ignored it. But after several minutes, he slowly looked up. You didn’t look away. Your chin was resting in your palm, your other hand absentmindedly rubbing the side of your pregnant belly as you watched him like you were studying him. Isaac set the pen down.
“…You’ve been staring at me for a while.” You blinked like you’d just been caught.Your cheeks turned pink immediately.
“I have not.” He leaned back in the chair slightly, folding his arms.
“You have.” You glanced away for half a second before looking back at him again.
“…Maybe a little.” Isaac tilted his head, studying you now.
“What are you looking at?” You hesitated. Your fingers traced small circles over your belly as you spoke softly.
“I was just thinking.”
“About?” Your eyes flicked over his face again—his eyes, the line of his nose, his jaw. Then you admitted quietly,
“I hope the baby looks like you.” Isaac went very still. You suddenly looked shy again, glancing down at your belly.
“You have really nice features,” you continued softly. “Your eyes… and your cheekbones… and your jawline. Isaac exhaled slowly through his nose, clearly caught off guard. You kept talking nervously.
“I mean—if the baby gets your eyes and your smile and—” He stood up and walked toward the couch. You stopped mid-sentence.
“…What?” Isaac stopped right in front of you.
“You want the baby to look like me?”You nodded a little, shy.
“I think they’d be really cute.” He crouched down in front of you, his hands resting gently on either side of your belly. For a moment he just looked at you. Then he said quietly,
“I was actually hoping they look like you.” Your eyes widened.
“Me?” He nodded.
“Your eyes. Your smile.” His hand slid gently over your belly.
“And hopefully your personality.” You laughed softly.
“I’m shy.”
“Exactly.” You blushed a little more. Isaac leaned closer, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. Then he murmured,
“Although if they inherit your habit of staring at me, I might be in trouble.”You hid your face in your hands again.
“I wasn’t staring!”
“You absolutely were.” His arm wrapped around your shoulders as he pulled you gently against him. And even then, when you peeked up at him again—Isaac caught you staring once more. He just smiled this time.
areudirty
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