lisa

#brianmoserpilled

[v2mped]

౨ৎ˖ ࣪⊹ and if you want a doctor, I’ll examine every inch of you…

evaliz or lisa. 8teen. aries. writing just for fun ♡. please send me tips. Brian mosers puppet <3.

who im currently writing for… ask!!

౨ৎ˖ ࣪⊹ masterlist

౨ৎ˖ ࣪⊹ rules

[pittsick]

⋆˙⟡ medical inspection: dennis whitaker x afab!reader.

cw: +18. mdni. blurb!!! medical roleplay. reader calling dennis doctor. use of medical instruments (gloves, stethoscope). fingering. praise. a creator’s best-friend is reblog, thank you!

taglist: @userhotd @i-t0ld-ya @stargral @grimsonandclover @irysque @clementinestars @allegedlygrandmoth @nozhdyved @elenacarey @alexxavicry @gelotime @kathh01 @jclolz22 @hisfavoriteweepingangel @bluberrychampagne @bluestrd @coochiemama3000 @eepwtf @ravens-writing-corner @uptowngirl-loveshughie @jiminie-08 @angeldoll1e @iheartrosalia ( to be added )

"I think everything is alright here. Can you remind me where the pain is?" Dennis' gloved hands were cold on your burning skin; fingers tracing down as he took the stethoscope away from your bare chest, not giving any attention to your perky nipples. The view of your boyfriend so deep into the roleplay was making wetness pool between your thighs, damping your panties.

His eyes lifted to your face, a little confident smile decorating his lips. He knew how you were feeling; it's like he could read your body just by giving it a look. His hands caressed down to your curled legs, parting them by the knees. "Yes, doctor, the pain is right here. It's a throbbing pain," you replied to him, sighing just at the thought of Dennis touching you.

He hummed, licking his lips before one of his gloved fingers hooked into the fabric of your underwear to push it to the side; baring your soaked and waiting pussy to his eyes. "I see that, you're oozing. I'll have to inspect that, is it okay?" He looked up at your face once more, and you nodded your head at him. "Of course, doctor." His gloved hands traced the skin from your knees to your inner-thighs with care, taking his time until you were squirming under his touch.

A sigh escaped past your lips when Dennis' thumbs parted your folds apart and his eyes focused on what he was seeing; your hole clenching around air for attention, your clit throbbing, your pussy glistening with your juices. His observation was making your squirm with embarrassment, but he stopped you with just a look of his eyes. "Stop moving, please, I need to make sure you are alright." You only nodded in answer. His fingers moved to inspect your cunt with a medical care.

Your hole clenched around nothing when he sighed. "I'll have to do a better inspection, alright?" Dennis looked up at you, but one of his thumbs started to rub circles around your clit. You gasped. "Alright, if that's really necessary, doctor." You could see the little smile on your boyfriend's face before he shifted back into the roleplay, and nodded his head. "It is." His thumb moved away from your clit before you felt a pressure against your oozing hole, and something cold entering you. Dennis pushed both his index and middle fingers deeper inside you, sliding in like butter with how wet you were.

He didn't move for a second as you melted against the headboard of the bed, but his digits slowly curled to rub against your walls. He moved his hand, gloved palm hitting your clit each time he pulled his fingers in and out of your hole. His second hand moved to grab at your knee, keeping your leg open for him. Dennis didn't speak, eyebrows furrowed as if he was searching for something; like a doctor trying to find what was wrong.

When the tip of his fingers finally hit your g-spot, rubbing against the gummy walls again and again, you gasped at him. He sighed. "Yes, right here, right? I think I found what I was searching for. Just be good and relax for me." He nodded his head at you, licking his lips. He didn't stop there, hitting that spot once more while your body trembled. Only then, his thumb came back to rub onto your slick clit.

The tip of his fingers kept rubbing and hitting that one special spot inside your hole, until your legs twitched and your back arched from the mattress. You gasped loudly, hands grabbing at the pillow under your head. You came like that, with Dennis fingering you, slowly circling your clit. Your walls clenched around his fingers before he slowly took them out of your hole; his glove soaked with your wetness. He smiled before leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

"Good girl, I took all the pain away, right?"

[mechaincalheart]

[vetckkie]

girl get off that c.ai and embrace the 'x reader'

[unnamedrose]

𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐑 who watches you more than he speaks. Not in the obvious way. Not like the rest of them. It’s quieter than that. Like he’s memorizing your patterns. How your mouth moves when you’re thinking. The way your hands fidget when you're lying. He doesn’t call you out. He just watches. Stores it.

Brian who always seems to show up when you need him. Before you’ve even said a word. A call you didn’t make. A knock on the door when the silence was becoming too loud. You wonder how he knew. He shrugs. Says something deflective. But you catch that look in his eyes—a flicker of something raw. Maybe he understands loneliness better than he lets on.

He’s careful with you. Which is strange, because you’ve seen how careless he can be with others. Effortless cruelty behind a calm smile. A predator wearing a lover’s voice. But never with you. With you, his touch is deliberate. Slow. Like he’s afraid of breaking something he never thought he’d be allowed to hold.

Brian who doesn’t believe in soulmates—until you. He doesn’t call it that, of course. He’s too logical, too damaged, too aware of what he is. But there’s a look he gives you sometimes. After the laughter fades, after the masks slip. When the world is quiet and there’s nothing left but the two of you breathing in the dark. That look says if anyone could be meant for me, it would be you.

Brian who shares pieces of himself he’s never named aloud. Not all at once. Just flashes. A memory, a story, a bloodstained fact. Testing you. Pushing. Will you run? And when you don’t—when you stay—he watches you like you’ve done something impossible.

There are days when he disappears. Leaves without warning. Comes back with tired eyes and that familiar scent of something metallic trailing behind him. You never ask. He never lies. And in that silence, there is trust.

Brian who doesn't know how to be normal. But with you, he tries. He learns your coffee order. He remembers the names of people who hurt you. He buys you a book you mentioned once in passing—dog-eared from his own reading of it. He doesn’t say “I love you.” He says, “I’ll take care of it.” He says, “Don’t worry about them.” He says, “You’re safe with me.”

And somehow, with him—you believe it. Even if you know you shouldn’t. Even if your heart beats faster not out of fear, but something far more dangerous. Something that feels like falling, like surrender, like letting the monster in.

Brian Moser who doesn’t understand redemption. But if there’s a piece of it in this world, he thinks it might look like your smile.

[the-sunflower-room]

lover boy ౨ৎ ⋆˚⊹

🫀isaac night x hyperfem!reader

☆genre: suggestive fluff

☆ wc: 1.8k

☆summary: nevermore’s resident bombshell is enamored with isaac night, and the feeling is mutual.

☆ warnings: grinding, suggestive make out scene, kinda sub!isaac (couldn’t help myself), isaac briefly being a judgmental asshole, no use of y/n, no physical descriptions beyond reader’s style. i listened to a lot of sabrina carpenter writing this. xoxo💋

Isaac was going to snap if one more thing went wrong.

By most normal standards, his day had been fine, un-disastrous. A slightly less than perfect grade on an advanced chemistry test, an unruly curl on his head that gel refused to tame, and a missing bolt from his current project were inconvenient, yes, but far from world-ending.

But to Isaac, such variables were enough to ruin his day.

He broods after the last of his classes, locking himself away in the lab to try and take his mind off of the day’s shortcomings, as he often did.

His frustration clouds his mind as he sits hunched over his work, distracted and muttering under his breath when his brain refuses to compute the hastily scribbled notes on the worn notebook page. Nothing seemed to be going right.

But then, salvation comes in the form of perfume and the click of heeled boots.

“Whatcha working on, baby?”

The gentle, adoring coo of that familiar voice almost immediately eases the sharp tension that had settled deep into his muscles. His hands briefly pause their task, the sweet scent of her perfume washing over him in a comforting wave as she curiously leans over his shoulder.

“Something complicated,” comes his deadpan reply as he cranes his neck to face her. His dark eyes rove over her perfectly made up face, gaze as appreciative as it is calculating.

“Mmm…you’re always making something complicated up here,” she hums, smoothing freshly manicured fingers through his unkempt curls. “Don’t you wanna take a break and do something fun for once?”

He sighs, already feeling his clockwork heart working overtime to keep up with his increasing pulse.

He wants to tell her he needs to decompress, that this project is too important to sideline. The old Isaac would’ve been snarky, dismissive, maybe even patronizing, telling her to stop distracting him from his far superior pastimes.

But it’s the gentle press of her lips against his jawline that rewires his brain and reminds him how impossible it was to be short with her. God help him, this woman was relentless.

“This is fun for me,” comes his exasperated reply, but there’s an undeniable fondness to his voice. He can practically feel the lipstick stain left behind on his jaw, one he would refuse to wipe away.

“I know…but if you’re this worked up, maybe you need something else to take your mind off things.”

There’s a teasing suggestiveness to her words mumbled against his skin, but it’s her keen ability to read him that piques his interest.

She was surprisingly perceptive, a trait he himself possessed and often used to twist situations in his favor. But her ability to so clearly recognize and respond to his erratic moods was one of the things he admired most about her.

At first, he’d been completely averse to her existence at Nevermore, her presence in the halls annoying him more than anything. In his mind, she was every ridiculous stereotype of a beautifully dense socialite.

Smiling, bubbly, and impossible to take seriously, unfit for his secluded world of unchecked ambition and innovation.

Most things held no importance to Isaac if they couldn’t be of use to him. And each time he’d hear her bright laughter echoing in a classroom, see her skirt riding up just a little too high on her thighs while she leaned over a desk, or watch her show off her newest pair of shoes to a crowd of admirers, he told himself that her presence in his life was nothing more than a frustrating, albeit attractive, distraction.

A distraction, he affirmed constantly to an unimpressed Francoise, that he had absolutely no need for.

But the skip in his artificial heartbeat said otherwise.

She was like a variable he couldn’t solve, seeking his attention in passing moments even when he acted cold or dismissive. He’d been suspicious that she was attempting to use him for his intelligence, his deeply paranoid and untrusting brain theorizing all the ways she was trying to manipulate him for her own gain. Better grades, perhaps. Good favor with the toughest professors.

It certainly couldn’t have been his blunt, self-righteous personality keeping the school’s beloved queen bee glued to his side.

But time went on, and her attention seemed to come from a surprisingly genuine place. So genuine, that his insufferable ego finally began to soften.

As it turned out, knowing her was entirely different from his haughty supposition of her merit. Up close and personal, every aspect of her fascinated him, igniting the relentless, nearly manic obsession he usually reserved for his experiments and designs.

The infatuation had quickly become mutual, and his obsession manifests itself in devotion.

“…Something else?” Isaac murmurs, unconsciously leaning into her touch as she massages his scalp. He can’t even pretend to hide the challenge in his words, his interest in his work thoroughly abandoned now in favor of her.

Grinning to herself, she drifts in front of him, blocking his view of the frenzied scribbles and scattered tools on his lab table. “I miss you when you’re up here all alone. Can’t I spend some time with my Isaac when he’s upset?”

My Isaac. Before he can even try to keep himself in check from the way she addresses him, she’s shifting forward to straddle his lap, sitting with her thighs clamped gently around his waist and fingers delicately brushing his curls back from his forehead.

The action is positively sinful, but she’s as casual as ever, smiling that radiant smile while he clenches his jaw and lets his eyes flutter shut. His hands quickly settle on her thighs by muscle memory.

“If this is what you call a distraction, it’s working,” he mumbles, trying to maintain a shred of dignity. But as he opens his eyes to try for a half-hearted glare at her antics, he’s met with that infatuated, devastatingly knowing look that boils his blood.

“Did my sweet boy have a bad day?” She whispers sympathetically, leaning forward to kiss his forehead with a calculated slowness. It should be patronizing, humiliating, to be talked to in such a way. But a part of Isaac craves the sweet nothingness of being cared for after a day of disappointments.

“What gave it away?” It’s his best attempt at sarcasm, but there’s a waver in his voice as she kisses her way down the pale column of his throat now.

“Maybe you locking yourself up here instead of sitting with me at dinner. I waited for you,” she murmurs, pausing to glance up at him beneath dark lashes. An unfamiliar feeling of guilt hurtles through him at the realization that she’d actually been expecting his company.

It was a difficult thing to adjust to, being truly wanted by someone.

Despite his pride and arrogance, he can’t help but want to set things straight. “I’m sorry,” he admits reluctantly, the words catching somewhere in his throat when her hips shift just so in his lap. A deliberate move.

“I don’t want you to see me like that. It’s easier if I have time alone so I don’t say something hurtful by mistake.”

She nods thoughtfully, thumb stroking his cheek as she leans in closer, nearly nose to nose. “I get it, baby. But I don’t want you to shut me out. Not if I can help fix things.” She steals a quick, almost teasingly fleeting kiss from his lips, earning a frustrated groan when she pulls away.

It scares him, sometimes, how quickly she could reduce his powerful mind to mush. But he can’t find it in himself to resist.

“Maybe I should remember to let you help fix things more often,” he mumbles, unknowingly chasing her lips in a desperate plea for more. But she revels in the way he comes undone for her.

She hums eagerly in reply, still pressing teasingly soft kisses across his cheek as if willing away each and every thing that had frustrated him.

“Tell me about the project you’ve been working on up here.”

The soft request comes as a slight surprise, given the circumstances. But he knew just how much she loved hearing about the intricacies of his work, the complex ways in which he schemed and brought ideas to life, even if she didn’t understand it.

It fueled his ego in every possible way, and perhaps that was always her goal. Seeing him confident and in his element while she brought him to ruin.

“It’s an early design of an apparatus for Professor Orloff,” he replies easily, grip tightening as she shifts her hips again. His eyes flutter shut once more as he forces his own hips to keep still at the slight grinding sensation.

“Yeah? How’s it work?” She whispers against the shell of his ear, lips brushing that sensitive spot that sets his nerves alight and makes his body jerk instinctively. She responds with another slow, torturous grind that only makes his desperate heart flutter faster.

He’s practically drooling over her now, eyelids heavy as he opens them to watch her achingly soft lips make their way down his jawline again. Her kisses grow slightly messy, gentle pecks mixing with soft nips and brief, targeted swipes of her tongue against his sensitive skin.

“It’s- it’s a system that preserves brain function without the need for a body. A melding of machine and man that allows him to move as if he had legs, all by targeting and responding to neurological signals.” Her fingers still glide through his hair as he speaks, and it’s clear she’s as turned on by his intelligent ramblings as he is by their current state.

She gently tugs at a particular hair at the base of his skull as he goes on, a silent persuasion for him to tilt his head back, and it earns a low, throaty whimper in return. She never played fair.

“You have a talent for tormenting me,” he nearly whines as her lips hover inches from his own, humiliated and exhilarated all at once. He’s baffled by how much he doesn’t mind the pathetic note to his voice as he gazes up at her.

She just flashes him that winning smile that had dragged him into her orbit in the first place, practically swallowing another of his groans as she tilts her head and kisses him properly. Breath evades them, and he can almost taste whatever sickeningly sweet dessert she’d had at dinner on her tongue as he greedily devours her.

“It’s a mutual talent.”

As she pulls back at last, she smiles when she finds his face and neck peppered with her favorite lipstick shade, his chest heaving and eyes lidded with that look that told her he was thinking of anything but his bad day.

“Feeling better?” She teases breathlessly, placing a hand over his chest just to feel the thrilling flutter of his mechanical heart working overtime. Every part of Nevermore’s reclusive genius belonged to her, both flesh and machine. And he liked it that way.

“On the contrary. I think I need to teach you about neurotransmitters to fully decompress.”

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈ ౨ৎ ┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

a/n: based on the silly scheming that happened in the reblogs of this post! i really grappled with the plot of this one (i loved the idea of modern!isaac being forced to listen to sabrina carpenter pop on loop but putting up with it like the exhausted, doting partner he is), but i think the concept of him being deeply obsessed with a popular, hyperfeminine classmate in his nevermore days was what my brain focused on the most. because of course this self important loser would freak out over how much he unironically adores his beautiful gf.

thank you for reading, i hope everyone enjoys this slightly whorish piece of brainrot to kick off the new year (and thank you to everyone who contributed to such a fun concept in my post) !! 🫶

☆ tag request: @s0urw00lf

[the-sunflower-room]

i can fix you ˖𓍢ִ✧˚

🫀isaac night x fem!reader

☆ genre: light angst

☆ wc: 1.7k

☆ summary: isaac is less than pleased to learn that his partner has been hiding heart issues from him.

☆ warnings: arguing, very brief language, mentions of medical issues, isaac’s trauma. no use of y/n!

“I told you to come to me the second you felt it happen again.”

Isaac’s voice is paper thin, his jaw clenched as he keeps his back turned to her still form lingering near the staircase. His fingers fidget with whatever new project he had been working on, nimble and graceful as he refuses the decency of eye contact.

“I know. But I didn’t want you to worry,” comes her half-hearted defense, and she’s aware it sounds stupid as soon as it leaves her mouth. He wouldn’t hear it.

Still, she tries her best to reason. “I’m serious, it wasn’t bad.”

She hovers a little ways behind his workbench in the late evening hour, the distance between them feeling a mile wide with the cold shoulder he was giving her. He’d been intentionally avoiding her all day, holed up in the lab like a pouting, petulant child. It was late into the night when she realized she’d have to seek him out to explain herself.

It was inevitable that he would react like this.

He scoffs, the sound utterly humorless. “Right. And I had to hear it from Francoise that you nearly passed out in class today,” he murmurs lowly, his voice eerily calm as his hands continue to work.

Her jaw ticks, a deep sigh escaping her as she pinches the bridge of her nose. So she had told him. Damn Francoise and her frustratingly endearing concern.

“I did not ‘nearly pass out.’ I just…got a little dizzy,” she retorts, her tone dismissive, blasé. It makes his eyes flutter shut as he fights for composure, his hands finally freezing their movements.

“I was stressed out because we were running an experiment and Orloff was breathing down my neck about doing it right, so my heart did the fluttering thing again—for one tiny half-second—and I had to sit down when it made me feel lightheaded. Not the end of the world.”

He stands from his chair and spins towards her in an instant, the metallic scrape making her wince. He’s quickly crossing the distance between them with a flourish of his jacket, now standing over her with a tense jaw and flared nostrils. He’s clearly near his wits’ end, his dark curls tousled from his hand running through them relentlessly.

“My sister had to give me the news that you were having heart problems again when I told you to come to me,” he whispers tightly, voice trembling with barely contained anger. His eyes are darker than usual, burning with an emotion she can’t name.

“I understand these things. Only I can fix you if there’s something wrong with your heart. Are you too proud to accept my help? Or are you just stupid?”

The cold words sting like a slap, but she can sense the smallest waver of desperation in them. He’d been here before. He knew the terror of a weak heart, the helplessness of a skipped beat.

Try as he might to appear like he had moved on from the memories of his years in the hospital, they clung to him in fleeting nightmares, in the frighteningly inhuman tick of the machinery resting in his chest cavity.

For all his cold indifference, Isaac Night wore the pain of his past on his sleeve.

“I’m not too proud to accept your help, Isaac. I just know it’s not that serious. Heart flutters can mean a million different things, you know that,” she argues, words less defensive now.

She’d known about his sensitivity surrounding his heart for as long as they’d been together. Despite his biting attitude, she knew the childhood hurt that lurked beneath his glare was the true source of his anger. That, and her apparent carelessness.

“A million different things?” He nearly seethes, crowding her space like he owned it. His cold hand suddenly raises to rest against her sternum, pressing hard enough to feel each heartbeat.

Like clockwork, there’s a soft flutter, a hitch in the rhythm that’s unmistakable.

“It’s too frequent. Triggered by stress, but also by you just standing here. It makes you dizzy, lightheaded, weak. You’ve been downplaying it.”

The accusation hurts in its truth. “Not downplaying, per say. I just didn’t think it was serious. And…I didn’t want to scare you,” comes her reluctant admittance, the press of his hand feeling all the more intense as his eyes bore holes into her.

“Well, too bad. We’re far past that point, aren’t we?” he huffs sarcastically, tone bitter with hurt.

Without further pretense, he drops his hand from where it rests above her heart to grip her wrist instead, silently tugging her towards his examination table.

She knows better than to argue.

Grumbling almost manically under his breath, he watches as she climbs onto the cold metal surface without complaint, the action muscle memory by now as her legs dangle over the edge. “Shirt,” he murmurs flatly, turning to retrieve a pair of gloves and a stethoscope.

With a slightly exasperated sigh, she sheds her Nevermore button-up without protest, watching him move about the room. There’s an air of disappointment knowing he was far too uptight and frustrated in the moment for any of their usual distractions.

He doesn’t even react to the sight of her in her bra as he approaches once more, his eyes sharp and jaw clenched as he pulls on the gloves with an efficient snap and adjusts the stethoscope in his ears. Clinically, but not cruelly, he presses the cold metal over her chest, instructing her to breathe deep.

Her eyes rake over his face as he observes her heartbeat, taking in his detached demeanor. The air is thick with tension and a thousand unsaid words, his true feelings buried beneath layers of pride.

“Isaac-”

“-Shut up.”

She scoffs at his instant dismissal, a short laugh escaping her throat despite herself. He was a stubborn asshole when he wanted to be, but an endearing one.

“Isaac,” she tries again, “we have to talk about it. I know this is a lot for you. And I know you care, so stop pretending you don’t,” she murmurs, watching as he slides the stethoscope to her back now.

To her surprise, a dry, humorless laugh rumbles through his chest as his dark eyes finally find her gaze again.

“You think I’m obsessing over every beat of your heart because I’m pretending not to care? Maybe I need to check your head, too,” he mumbles, yanking the stethoscope from his ears and dropping it to the table with a clatter.

There’s a long moment of silence as he stands over her, calculating eyes darting across her face as if silently reassuring himself that she wasn’t dying from the dysrhythmic beats. Not sick. Not wasting away.

“…I asked you to come to me if the problem persisted because I have the ability to prevent this from getting worse,” he starts lowly, two gloved fingers unconsciously shifting towards the pulse point at her neck.

“My condition began somewhat similarly. There were flutters, missed beats, spells of shortness of breath where I felt disoriented. And those symptoms grew into the disease that nearly killed me. If not for my design…” he trails off, briefly glancing at his own chest as if he could see the ticking mechanism beneath the fabric.

“I certainly wouldn’t be here to beg you to be reasonable.”

The explanation is nothing surprising, but hearing the edge of vulnerability to his words is a sure sign that his frustration is giving way to the genuine worry and panic that had been stirring just beneath the surface. She listens silently as he goes on.

“I don’t like you acting so careless about this when I’ve seen what it can mean for the body. It’s dangerous and stupid to brush this sort of thing off when it could very well be serious.” He’s practically scolding her now, but his fiery eyes have softened to something more bearable. Maybe even affectionate.

She nods slowly, attentively, needing him to know she wasn’t carelessly disregarding his pain and concern. “I know. I really didn’t mean to worry you,” she replies lowly, relaxing slightly as his anxious touch shifts to her sternum again. “Francoise shouldn’t have had to tell you about what happened in class.”

There’s a brief pause before she continues, considering her words. “I think part of the reason I hid it was so that you wouldn’t be upset like this. I didn’t want to stir up what happened in your past if it was just the shady cafeteria espresso fucking up my heart.”

His returning scoff of disbelief and amusement is a clear sign that his intense frustration was finally fading for good.

“Espresso or not, I want to ensure this isn’t going to be a prevailing issue. Because if it is, I refuse to rest until I fix it,” he mutters, obsessive devotion bleeding into his attempt at nonchalance. “My genius is worthless if I can’t use it to save you.”

Then, before he can roll his eyes at himself for being horribly sappy, he leans down to press a slow, tender kiss to her chest, right above her heart.

It sucks the breath from her lungs and stops her heart dead, but not in a way worth concern. No, this was simply the effect Isaac Night always seemed to have on her poor heart.

“I expect you to cooperate with my tests for the next few days while I determine for certain what we’re dealing with,” he murmurs against her skin, glancing up at her with an aching reverence before pulling away and returning to his clinical disposition all too soon. The smug glint in his eyes as he gently pulls her button-up back over her head makes her groan.

He knew what he was doing, the bastard.

“Are you serious right now? We’re finally having a sweet, vulnerable moment and you’re putting my shirt back on?” She grumbles with a frown of deep disappointment, watching him smile to himself while his fingers deftly secure the last button.

“Yes. Don’t be so dramatic.”

His reply is curt, but still fond in that subtle way of his. Even if his very intentional torment pisses her off to no end.

Still, the shift in the cold lab air is palpable. She doesn’t miss the way his gaze swims with the familiar flicker of mad ambition, now mixed with something far softer.

He would stop at nothing to heal the heart that had always belonged to him.

ﮩ٨ـ ـــــــــﮩ٨ـ ـــــــــﮩ٨ـ ـــــــــﮩ٨ـ ـــــــــﮩ٨ـ ـــــــــﮩ٨ـ

a/n: my first isaac fic! something about the winter air has stirred up my obsession with him and wednesday s2 again, so here we are. i had fun writing for his dramatic ass and forcing him to be vulnerable 🫶 this is not thoroughly proofread so i apologize for any mistakes i may have missed in my mini writing frenzy. i hope everyone enjoys! :)

[bondageville]

[polkaglock]

why so 𝙎𝘾𝘼𝙍𝙀𝘿!

⵿۪۫۫۫𓈒ཊ why run when brian shows you who he really is?

𝓗e put his finger up to his lips, shushing you before you could make a sound. he smiled behind his finger when you obliged, “you’re a little early, i’m just cleaning up a bit. didn’t want your first scene to be too. . bloody,” he smirked.

your breath hitched at the word. then it started to come out in breaks when you glanced to the body again. who is that? you didn’t expect this when brian told you to meet him at this address. you expected something romantic. was this his idea of romance? showing his girlfriend a dead body?

you went to walk up to brian, your foot crinkled the wrap that covered the floor. brian’s head snapped up at the sound, “do you like it? do you recognize him?” you stepped closer to get a better look. it was the guy you’ve seen on the news. he was wanted for. . hurting girls. you nodded hesitantly, brian smiling again.

he moved to stand behind you, you slightly flinching. brian gripped your arms with gloved hands, keeping you in place, “don’t be scared,” he whispered into your ear. he wrapped his arms around your middle, embracing you, and letting out a slight sigh, “i missed you,” his breath fanned your hair, “this took so long to set up. tried to make it extra pretty for you.”

just then did you notice the candles surrounding the room and scattered rose petals. your brow furrowed, “brian. .”

“shh. . ” he quieted you again, his hands coming up to circle your neck, breathing in deeply, “i love this pulse. it brings me so much comfort knowing this man can’t cut it off. i couldn’t have him walking this earth with you on it. he was. . a threat to you. you were in danger and you didn’t even know it,” he lightly chuckled.

“you’ve always been so naive, but it’s okay. i like it. . i like being the one to protect you. to shield your eyes. . ” his hands came up to cover them. you slightly gasped at your vision being obstructed. he chuckled again, “but you trust me, right? you trust me to keep you safe?” you slowly nodded.

“say it,” brian grunted out. “i trust you,” you whimpered. “the entire thing,” you startled at brian sounding closer to your ear. “i trust you to keep me safe,” you whispered.

you felt brian press his face into your neck, “good. . good girl,” then he removed his hands. you immediately wanted them back when the sight in front of you returned.

“where are my manners?” you heard from behind you, “you look so pretty, sweetheart. you prettied yourself up for me? you readied yourself like a doll all for me? ’m so lucky. . i really appreciate it. . it just sucks this might get messed up,” he stepped away from you. you wondered briefly where he was going when you saw him pull out the dagger.

your foot was moving before your brain could tell it to. brian’s eyes immediately moved to you at the sound of the wrap crinkling, “what are you doing?” he asked you slowly. you shook your head, eyes pleading with him.

“you’re not leaving, are you? you can’t leave, you haven’t seen the best part yet. this is the surprise. you like it, right? you want to see me get rid of the man that put you in danger. . right? you just said you trust me to keep you safe, i’m doing that!” his voice raised.

your eyes widened and a second later, you bolted. you could hear the sound of the dagger dropping to the floor and footsteps after you. you dodged shelves as you ran, searching for an exit. where did you come in? it was the like the door disappeared the moment you stepped in.

you stopped short at the blank wall in front of you. it was right here. .

hands grabbed you, one coming up to smoother your squeals. you squirmed in his arms, kicking at whatever you could. “stop!” brian yelled, “this is for you! i don’t mind the chase, but you need to see this. why are you so scared?” his hand came up to pet your hair. your breath slowed after the adrenaline dissipated, curling closer into brian’s chest. you didn’t want to give up so soon, but you were tired now. you knew you weren’t getting out unless brian wanted you to.

“yeah? you all good now? you ready to be a good girl again? i guess i should’ve expected you to be a little frightened. ’m sorry. . you forgive me right? you still trust me? please tell me you still trust me.”

you stared at the blank wall in front of you, settling into brian’s warmth. it was the only thing that could comfort you in this moment. “i still trust you.”

[ssweetleaf]

dry humping kurt kunkle in his silly spree car until he cums in his pants though? pathetic little maniac 🙂‍↕️

SMUT 18+ below

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

The steering wheel dug into the skin of your back, your knees uncomfy when they shifted either side of his hips, though the pretty sounds that escaped Kurt’s throat had you moving even faster.

“O-oh,” he sighed, lashes fluttering, barely able to keep his eyelids open and he kept his hands to himself, not knowing what to do with them or where to put them, until you enveloped his wrists, placing his palms firmly on the fat of your hips.

“That feel good, baby?” You cooed, sickly sweet, your lips mocking his pout before pressing a smacky kiss to his mouth— a short one, one that had him trailing and following your lips, a sticky, glossy stain sparkling on his lips, courtesy of your cherry gloss.

“Feels— yeah, feels good,” he whined, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and inhaling the sweet scent of your perfume that was pressed to your skin. “You’re so bea— you’re so pretty.”

You hummed appreciatively, carding your fingers through his greasy hair, tugging a little at the strands, his cock throbbing against the confines of his sweatpants, impossibly hard from the mere feeling of your covered pussy.

You pulled his head back with your leverage at the roots of his hair, meanly shaking his head back and forth, his neck craning uncomfortably, causing him to whine and pout.

“Come on, look at the cameras, pretty boy,” you grinned, watching while he looked into a camera lens closest to him, a thick, strawberry blush coating his cheeks and neck. “gotta show your fans how pathetic you get, huh?”

He nodded, a short ‘yes, mama,’ was uttered from his lips and your cunt clenched, arousal slick and dripping under your skirt all because of one pathetic, greasy boy.

“Good boy,” you grinned, pressing another fat kiss to his skin, his cheek this time, before stroking it with your palm, letting him lean into your warm touch— such a sweet moment, as if his cock wasn’t sliding between your covered pussy lips at the exact moment.

A surge of warmth bloomed between your thighs, though you were sure it wasn’t your arousal— his high moans and whines sounded throughout his car, chest heaving and eyes rolling to the back of his skull. He was cumming. Hard. Right in his silly little spree car, saturating the fabric of his sweatpants and leaving them messy and darkened.

“M’sorry, mama,” he sobbed, “didn’t mean— wasn’t supposed to cum so soon.”

Pathetic boy. :(((

[ghostandrazor]

CARAPHERNALIA — isaac night x f!reader.

synopsis :: caraphernalia; when someone leaves you, but also leaves their belongings and painful memories behind. or, in which isaac finds his grief-stricken undead past lover thirty years after his death.

requested by @dionisim0 !

notes && warnings :: i kept thinking about this request… and then i listened to caraphernalia by pierce the veil again and it just felt perfect !

“Those are the fangs,” Enid told Wednesday a year ago, pointing towards the clique of vampires drinking animal-blood out of mock juice pouches. “Aka vampires. Some of them have literally been here for decades.”

That included you. Another immortal haunting the stone walls for yet another year. You couldn’t bring yourself to leave, not when your beloved haunted the place with you.

Of course, he haunted it through memories. Your memories. Through his lab, in the tower you find yourself gazing at from your balcony even now. Thirty years have passed, but the heartache remains.

It’s your fault really, that’s what you tell yourself. Hundreds of years of refusing to find love unless it’s another of your kind. You were bound to outlive any other outcast. God forbid normie lover.

But his evocative, obsessive aura that repelled others attracted him to you like no other. He was smart, calculative, terribly beautiful. He loved you in a way you never felt, perhaps in a way no sane person would. You were just as obsessed.

There were days where you stayed in his lab with him, quiet moments spare the sound of his magnificent ticking heart. Days where he would get angry at his research or attempts and you’d be there to calm him. Days where all he saw was you, even in the midst of him trying to play god with his sister’s monster.

Now there’s days of you longing, wishing, praying to be with him again. Even in death. But it isn’t quite possible, is it? You’re stuck here, stuck with the constant reminder of him. His death took everything from you, but left the small bits just to haunt your life forever.

You find yourself in Iago Tower again. You don’t know why you do this to yourself, reopen wounds instead of letting them heal. But maybe they never will.

Your hand grazes over the dusty stairs, eyes taking in the tarps that cover your late lover’s work. It’s nothing new, you come up here often. It’s abandoned and ridden with cobwebs, you were one of the only people he allowed up here.

A sad smile finds its way onto your lips. It’s like you can still smell the smoke from that night, like you can still feel his rigid body in your arms. The sound of his clockwork heart slowing.

But the sound isn’t distant in your brain like a memory, nor is it slow. It’s steady, ticking like his heartbeat once was. You go to leave, so sure your brain is so far clouded with grief that you’re beginning to hallucinate.

The moment you back up you hit something, something cold and strong that wraps its arms around you as soon as you make contact with it. The ticking grows louder, and slightly faster like his heart would get with you. Fantastic, you’ve finally gone mad.

“My love…” his soft, low voice is right in your ear. Too real to be like the pathetic delusional daydreams you feed into in your head. You whip around quickly, face to face with your lover. He’s here, he’s real, in front of you and alive.

Well, almost.

There’s slight green tint to his skin. It’s not perfectly smooth, his eyes sunken in, his mouth stretched a bit too far across his face.

But he’s here, and he’s yours just as much as he was before. You can see the devotion in his eyes.

Your voice breaks when you whisper his name. He closes his eyes, relishing in the sound of it falling from your lips after so long.

“You have been the one thing on my mind since my return.” His hands travel down your arms as he takes you in. You haven’t changed a bit, and standing here in his lab with him, it’s like nothing happened and no time has passed.

He can’t help himself, leaning in to kiss you. It’s like it satiates his hunger far more than human flesh ever could. The taste of him makes you feel whole again, despite the hint of brain and metallic blood attempting to cloud it.

He leans back, pressing your bodies even closer. His forehead leans against yours and that beautiful eerie smile you missed so much tells you everything you need to know. He has a plan for the both of you, still the obsessive scientist you fell for.

[black-ghoull]

[v2mped]

gulps..hey guys..I sort of forgot about my Jason writing 💔 I’ve been really into Dexter lately..so I might start writing for some of those characters. But also feel free to ask me if I’m in a specific fandom or if I could write for it!!

[v2mped]

pls continue to write for jason😖😖😖

I definitely will!! I’m re-watching pll to refresh my memory. The only thing I’m a bit concerned about is that I would love to write about sub!jason..but idk if anyone would like that. Please tell me yalls opinion!!

[v2mped]

i love your writing, lets make out 😝

hehe thank youu 🥳

[v2mped]

i miss ur jason dilaurentis fics!!! any chance you’ll post more in the future?

I think so! I have a lot of unfinished drafts..so I might complete those. I haven’t had a lot of motivation to write, and honestly I think my preferences and writing has changed a bit but if you all would like me to write more for him please give me some ideas! I could also post screenshots of the drafts I do have and yall can vote on which one you would like to be completed!

[ashleysjohnson]

Anna Sawai as CATE RANDA in Monarch: Legacy of Monsters (2023-)