•{a young writer & artist}• •{a sister, daughter, and friend}• •{a fighter, a helper}• •{a leader, a believer, a dreamer}• •{a smile, a heart, a love}•
a/n - I had a random boost of inspiration and I’ve been wanting to post something for the longest time… so I’m just gonna say that I wrote this small bit within a span of like 2 days but less than an hour each time I came back to it. I hope this gives you guys an idea of what my writing is like, and ty in advance for reading <3 {ps - the fic I'm working on outside of this isn't as detailed as this... i just poured my creativity on this one, especially because it's way shorter.}
word count - 1.1k
• the winter soldier x hydra soldier!fem!reader •
warnings - mentions of killing and assassins, no use of y/n, the winter soldier being the winter soldier, angst?, use of russian words(translation given), no real romance... yet, ends with a cliffhanger of sorts
•••••••••••••••••••••
A soldier, or two? One super, one ordinary. One chose, one forced. One assassin. Two assassins. One woman, one machine. Two lives, paths crossed in a horrifying way. A killer, a killing machine. A life spent, a life taken. One free, one brainwashed. One skilled, one programmed. Two eyes met, two souls connected. One soldier, two soldiers.
She’s a soldier, ordinary, human. She chose her place. She chose Hydra. She grew up with one of their leaders. She chose this life. She chose when she was a young woman. She’s spent your life working for Hydra, willingly. She had the option to leave, yet she remained loyal. Hydra was a home to her. Hydra is a home to a strong willed woman. She spent her childhood and opening of womanhood training for the day she’d live her dream: to fight for her country. She’s skilled.
And yet… another life is placed into hers. The moment that second life awoke, eyes met, locked. For the first time, she wanted more than to serve Hydra. The eyes she met were the eyes of a programmed soul. He wasn’t free. He was brainwashed. His life wasn’t spent, it was taken. Years of his life, asleep, years of his life, stolen. A killing machine. That’s what he was. He was one made to kill, programmed for murder. It was a thought that could bring shivers down one’s spine. A machine, they say. He belonged to Hydra, and Hydra made him. It felt cruel. He was only the assassin they made him to be, how could there be a human behind that cold gaze? Forced… he was forced, and it was wrong. She could see it, even after your years spent with Hydra, she’s never witnessed such a thing. A super soldier? She would’ve killed to be like him.
That’s the thing, she would’ve killed to be like him. The problem was, she’s not him. Two soldiers, but there’s still a difference. A manner of choice. He was not given that choice. She could only wonder why.
•••••••••••••••••••••
Behind the facade, there was always a softness.
“Good morning soldat,” she greets him with a stern voice, but beneath her tone is a form of gentleness. The Winter Soldier looks down at the woman with this icy blues, and similar to her tone, he too had a gentleness buried underneath his gaze.
The soldier gives her a short nod as to address her, not speaking. She doesn’t appreciate his lack of words.
“Apologies, I said… good morning soldat,” the respected woman speaks again, she emphasizes her tone to a slight harsher one. The soldier’s gaze remains the same, unfazed.
“Good morning уважаемый,” the soldier nods again, and refers to her as ‘respected one’.
She gives him a nod back, seemingly satisfied with his reply. She almost smiles. She never smiles, at least not with other soldiers. Being in Hydra for a little over ten years gives her authority. Having grown up with one of the colonels put her as second in command. She has experience.
She knows she should treat the soldier like he isn’t human, but he is. In her eyes, he’s a tortured soul. She can see it, she has the ability to see past the glare. Why? because she knows how to spot a difference.
“Mission report,” she requests as she keeps her hands behind her back. Her head is tilted up in the slightest to keep eye contact. Their eyes lock, two soldiers.
“Negative,” he replies, and it’s his turn to give her a firmer voice. Her eyebrows furrow with the way that he speaks to her, as well as his response.
“On who’s orders?” the woman nearly growls. She always knew and was informed of the Winter Soldier’s missions. She usually asked only to report back to the colonel, it’s supposedly just a simple and daily task. It was also one of the only interactions she’d have with the fellow assassin.
“Твой начальник,” the firm voice remains, it feels like his programming showing it’s hold on him. Her eyes narrow in a small glare at how he says ‘your superior(boss)’. Why would her friend be keeping the soldier’s mission a secret from her?
Her voice is gone, stripped from her. She would never admit how vulnerable she feels right now. It created a storm within; a rage. The temptation to walk away and destroy everything in her path was strong. She stands her ground, glaring at the soldier in silence.
The soldier finds her silent response amusing in a way. He continues to look right back at her, his eyes gleaming at the entertainment.
The second in command knew she couldn’t be mad at the Winter Soldier, it was her ‘superior’, and her supposed childhood friend who was defying her. Acknowledging this allows her to calm down slowly, along with the beauty of the soldier’s eyes, the steel eyes that stuns any enemy he comes across. The soldier is an anchor to her, even though neither of them have acknowledged that yet.
Her demeanor shifts, right before his eyes. She calms, and her breathing steadies. She’s been trained to keep her emotions in check, especially if she’s a superior to most soldiers in Hydra. Although she’d never admit it, his presence just makes it a whole lot easier.
“I see,” her words finally form, and her voice comes out as quiet but strong. She wants to leave to go confront her ‘friend’ but there’s something that keeps her feet stuck to the ground. It’s almost like a magnetic pull. Her eyes haven’t left the soldiers for the whole duration of the conversation. Her body hasn’t moved an inch. Her hands haven’t left their hold on themselves behind her back. Besides her facial expressions, she hasn’t physically shifted in any way.
There are several moments of silence, all that can be heard is their soft breaths, and blinking eyes. The atmosphere remains thick, heavy, and suffocating. Both observe how their breaths match each other’s, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. A safe distance is kept between the two soldiers, but it still feels like there isn’t enough. Either that, or there’s too much. Neither of them can tell which it is.
They’re two magnets, and destiny is playing with them and their sides. It’s trying to decide whether to pull them apart, or pull them together. Stir hatred and disgust, and create distance? Or make it so once they touch, they can’t remove themselves from each other? An undying question.
Neither their hearts nor minds could comprehend a choice. To hate or to love? It’s hard for the two soldiers, especially when there’s such a difference.
Warnings: no use of y/n, fluff, cursing, mentioning of sexual themes.
Summary: Sweet Pea confronts you after you both share a night together but avoid each other for the next few days.
Sweet Pea had always been trouble. You weren’t really friends. You weren’t anything, really. Just two people who couldn’t seem to be in the same room without snapping at each other.
Until the night you stopped fighting… Until the night you let him touch you, let him ruin you in ways you hadn’t even realized were possible.
…And then he left. No calls. No texts. Nothing. So you avoided him.
You weren’t stupid. Sweet Pea didn’t do feelings. And you refused to be another name in whatever list he kept. But Sweet Pea wasn’t the kind of guy you could ignore forever.
So when you stepped out of Pop’s one night and found him leaning against his bike, arms crossed over his broad chest, waiting- You knew you were screwed.
“You been hiding from me?” His voice was rough, laced with something you couldn’t quite place.
Your fingers twitched at your sides, as you become very nervous. “I’ve been busy.” His lips twitched, but there was no humor in it. “Bullshit.”
“I have been” you quickly lied and walked down the steps and tried to leave. Sweet Pea grabbed your wrist, refusing to let her go. “Bullshit,” he repeated, pulling her closer. “Try again, princess.”
“Don’t call me that….” You murmured, getting memories from what happened almost five days ago. “Why not?” He smirked, still holding your wrist. “You seemed to like it that night.”
“I-… what do you want sweet pea?” You say, slightly flustered. “You.” He said bluntly, pulling you closer until you were pressed against his chest. “You’ve been avoiding me, princess. Why?”
“You’ve also been avoiding me!” You say quickly, trying to defend yourself. Sweet Pea sighed “Don’t play stupid.” His grip on her wrist tightened slightly. “I’m not the one hiding away.”
“Then why did you avoid me the day after we…” you said slowly trailing off. Sweet pea sighed quietly. “Because I knew that if I saw you again, I wouldn’t be able to keep away.” He admitted, his voice barely above a whisperer. “I knew that if I saw you again, I’d do it all over again.”
You blush. “Then why are you here?” You asked confused with a frown plastered on your face.
“Because I can’t stay away any longer.” Sweet Pea said seriously, his grip on her wrist softening until he was gently stroking her skin. “Because I need you.”
“You… need me?” You ask softly in a shocked tone. “Yes.” He said simply, his fingers still tracing the lines of your wrist. “I do.” He pulled you closer, his other hand going to your waist. “And I think you need me too.”
You stay quiet but are trying to hide a smile that creates onto your face.
“That’s what I thought.” Sweet Pea said softly, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “You’re struggling to deny it, but you can’t, can you princess?”
“No…” you mumbled after a few moments of silence. “Say it.” He demanded, his hand on her waist tightening. “Tell me you need me.”
“Sweet pea…” you mumble with a slight glare.“Don’t give me that tone.” He warned. “You know you want to say it. Just let yourself be honest for once.”
You sigh in a nervous tone before you speak up, “Fine… maybe I do need you” you mumble in a flustered tone.
That was enough to have his grip tightening on your waist. “Say it again.” He whispered, leaning in closer. “Louder.” You bit your lip slightly before saying, “I need you…”
His smirk widened, clearly pleased. “There you go.” He murmured, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip again. “Was that so hard princess?”
Summary: your first day alone with Sweet pea in the house, and someone pays you a visit
Warning: none
A/N: continuing this because i want to and im having fun
Getting through the following school day was like fighting for your life. You had barely gotten 3 hours of sleep and your body was gradually weighing you down as you moved through the hallways.
You were sitting in your last class of the day, barely keeping your head from lolling to the side when a note got tossed onto your desk. You woke up a little, straightening in your chair and folding out the piece of paper.
"we leave immediately after school, i borrowed a car off a buddy of mine"
You smiled gently at Sweet Peas hand writing. You turned slightly in your chair and glanced at him to let him know you got the note.
The last few minutes of class passed by in a breeze and suddenly you were packing up your things, and sliding out the door with Sweet Pea on your tail.
People couldn't help but stare when the two of you walked down the hallway. It was no secret that the Serpents had not received a warm welcome, but even after several months, the student body still side eyed a North sider and a Serpent seen together.
It most likely did look a little off. Sweet Pea was a head and a half taller than yourself, wearing his Serpent jacket as usual, the snake tattoo curling up over the collar.
And you... wore a cheerleading uniform and a bow in your hair. It was cliche in a way that tickled up along your spine. The sensation dropped even further when he reached his arm back and rested his hand on the small of your back to guide you through the door.
He lead you to the car he had borrowed, a black stationcar that was tucked away on the back of the lot.
He opened the door for you, eyes flickering across the crowd, searching for a familiar face but ultimately finding none.
You drove in silence, both tired from the long day with little to no sleep.
He pulled the car into your garage and you made sure to quickly shut the door as to not pull unnecessary attention from nosy neighbors.
"do you want something to eat?" you asked him as you made your way through the kitchen. He shrugged, pulling his jacket off as he did.
"i could eat, if you want something"
You pulled out some leftover pasta and stuff for sandwiches, spreading it out across the kitchen island.
"im gonna go upstairs and change, you can just make something to eat"
You pulled off the tight uniform with a satisfied sigh and got into some sweatpants and a larger hoodie. When you got back downstairs, the island had been cleaned up and the tv was on in the other room.
You smiled to yourself. Sweet Pea was not exactly as you had expected him to be.
He was splayed on your couch, leaned forward to avoid spilling. He had put some sort of sitcom on the tv, from the nineties.
The plate you had made with a sandwich and portion of pasta, was resting on the table next to his and your water bottle that you assumed had been filled with ice water.
"thank you" you told him quietly, and he sent you a quick smile.
"i was raised to be a good house guest"
You settled on the soft couch, pulling a blanket over you lap and grabbing your food.
"so what's the plan with keeping guard today?" you asked him. Three Serpents were spread around the outside of the house, keeping watch. Sweet pea was the only one inside, which was different from yesterday.
"the others will stay outside for now, they will get switched out around 8 tonight" he answered, not taking his eyes off the screen. You waited for him to tell you who would take over for himself, but it didnt come.
"and who switches with you?"
He stopped chewing for a quarter of a second, "no one does, i´ll just stay"
You didnt answer and so he kept talking, "its easier if its the same person inside anyway. And im the only one who isnt busy the next few weeks so it works out"
You nodded, eating your food and watching the tv and trying not to fall asleep. At some point he switched to a random action movie and that was the end of your staying awake.
You barely noticed falling asleep until you were jolted awake by loud voices. You could barely recognize your surroundings, the tv was off and the living room was cast in shadows.
It was silent for a beat, before you heard his voice. You got up from the couch, the blanket slipping off to pool at your feet. The floorboards creaked as you moved across them to the front door, the porch was lit up by the lamps linning the walls.
You leaned to the side, still hiding behind the solid wood but peeking through the window. Sweet pea was standing against the door, arms crossed over his chest.
For a second you figured he was having a smoke break, until he shifted in his position and revealed the two figures in front of him. Your heart dropped to your gut at their jackets. Ghoulies.
They looked like predators, pacing back and forth the driveway like they were gearing up to attack their prey.
Sweet Pea was a lot bigger than the two. The figures were scrawny and lanky. But they were on something, no doubt about it, and that made them threats.
You stayed far enough back that you were still concealed by the darkness, but close enough to still hear.
"...so why dont the two of your get the hell out of here" you managed to catch the end of Sweet Pea´s sentence.
"we just want to talk to her man, ain't no harm in that" one of the weasels croaked, his hand jittering at his hip.
"you are not talking to anybody" Sweet Pea told him. The two other Serpents stationed outside moved through the darkness and into view.
The two reconsidered their options for a moment, looking at each other, ultimately deciding to stay.
"Malachai has an offer he wants to make her, one im sure she wont refuse" the other one said, his face splitting into a shit eating grin.
You hear the sound of Sweet Pea pushing off the door and he moves towards them, they blink for a second and step back a beat.
"if Malachai has an offer, then he can go see FP at the Wyrm, but none of you rats are talking to her" he steps even closer, towering over them significantly.
They look at each other for a second before saving face and nodding to themselves. "yeah okay...whatever"
They look Sweet Pea up and down before slithering back to the sidewalk and getting into their car.
Sweet pea stayed outside, watching them drive off while he shot a text, probably to Jughead.
You could hear him talking to the other Serpents for a moment, discussing something about increasing the amount on watch. Your heart dropped even further, realizing the reality of being in danger.
You backed away from the door and went towards your left and into the kitchen to get some cold water. You were leaned against the sink, the cold granite biting at the exposed skin between your hoodie and your pants.
You heard the front door close, and then lock. He rounded the corner, typing away on his phone.
"Jugheads coming over, and he´s bringing Betty so she can spend the night with you" he told you, still typing.
He looked up from the screen, eyes flitting over your face. "you okay?"
You nodded, "yeah, fine"
He didn't press it any further, watching you for a moment from the hallway.
Summary: when you life is threatened by the leader of the Ghoulies, Jughead decided to assign you Serpent guard dogs. One of them seems to volunteer more than the others.
Warning: threats of violence, mentions of violence, description of patching up wounds and blood!
A/N: my teenage obsession with this fine ass characters was recently rekindled after a brief Riverdale rewatch. Unfortunately, the amount of Sweet Pea writing is very slim, so i have resigned to writing it myself. PLEASE let me know if you have any recs, thank you!
Now the plotpoints in this are totally made up, i just wrote something lol
"im sorry but can you please stop talking about me like im not here?"
You were doing your absolute best to remain calm, but Jughead and Archie were talking about you like you were no longer in the room and it was driving you mad.
"im sorry, its just a lot to wrap our minds around".
"i know, but seen as im the one being threatened, can i at least be involved in the conversation?" you asked them. You and Betty were still seated at the dinner table, the unvoluntary audience to Archie and Jugheads pacing back and forth.
Betty looked up from the papers splayed across the table, "Jug im not sure i understand where all of this started can we just- can we start over?"
Jughead nodded and pulled the papers back, "it started back after Malachai had a pack of the Ghoulies try to raid the Whyte Wyrm. Some of us retreated back to the cottage to patch up and spend the night in case some of them decided to retaliate during the night"
Your house had always been the go to safe place for all your friends. Your parents were among the wealthiest in Riverdale, easily tailing right behind the Blossoms which drove Cheryl crazy.
Your parents were both surgeons, signed with Doctors without Boarders, and flitting across the world to help active war zones and crisis sites. This left you in a rather spacey multiple bedroom home at the outskirts of town, by yourself.
The petname "the cottage" was something the boys came up with when you guys were all little, finding great amusement in the irony.
Your parents made sure to call and text you multiple times a day, and the parents of your friends were constantly checking on you, as well as the Sherrif.
But this left you alone in a house with a huge allowance and several bedrooms available to your friends. In the beginning you were the designated sleepover house, each of your friends would lie to their parents and claim there was a babysitter watching you. You guys would stay up all night and stuff your faces with junk.
Later it became the party house, and now, it was a refugee center for young Serpents. Okay, that was an exaggeration, but bordering on true still.
When Jughead was forced to step up and become a full fledged member, he quickly realized that he would still need the help of his Northsider friends. Especially you.
The first Serpent you ever met was Toni. She and Jughead had seeked refugee at your house to study since a party was booming against the walls of the trailer park, defeaning any attempts at conversation.
You liked Toni, she was charming.
Since then it rapidly evolved, your knowledge of basic first aid and your endless supply of food, quickly resolved in a designated safe haven. Word got around to the Whyte Wyrm and every serpent in need of care or a place to crash, inevitably came to you.
Now in true Serpent nature, they didnt just take from you. For every time you patched someone up, fed them or allowed them to spend the night, you were ensured a favor.
Now these were hardly ever cashed in as the need very rarely occured, but the mutual benefit and care resulted in a fond partnership. You were protected, cared for.
And that became evident now.
Three days ago, the Ghoulies had attempted a raid on the Wyrm. They wanted to force the Serpents off their terf, to take over the southside.
The raid had failed miserably, but a number of Serpents had still rounded your place to get their wounds tended to. Unfortunately, the rat that is Malachai had trailed them all the way to the edge of town, to your house.
And he was after revenge.
Jughead thumbed through the papers. "and now he is threatening to "take her away from us"" he quotes, panning the papers out so the threats were readable.
Betty sighs shakily, leaning back in her seat and tracing her hand across my underarm for a second.
"Malachai has left numerous threats regarding the soft spots of the gang, partners and children and elderly family members..." he picked those apart in a pale and splayed the rest. "most of them however, are directed towards you"
The room fell silent for a moment, you were all racking your brains on how to get out of this. Going to the cops was not an option at all, local law enforcement could barely keep gang activity down as it is. A restraining order would not stop Ghoulies from making you disappear.
The thought send a shiver down your spine.
"well we´re not going to find a way out of this tonight, and i definitely need to talk to the others about this" Jughead concluded, rubbing his hands down his face.
Archie looked up at him from the papers, "what do we do in the meantime? i mean we cant just leave her here, but i dont want to put my dad at risk if i have her stay with me and they decide to pounce"
Archie shot you an apologetic look but you brushed him off with a wave of your hand. You understood.
Jughead pulled his phone out of his pocket, "i will call for some backup, have some of the guys watch the house until we figure something else out"
He left the living room, trailing around in the kitchen as he spoke.
Betty turned to you, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and pulling you to her chest. She had a sweet vanilla scent.
"i will stay over too, we can make a sleepover out of it" she told you, and you smiled into the pink sleeve of her sweater.
"id like that please"
Jughead returned to the living room, rounding the table to crouch next to you and his girlfriend.
"i called in a few favors and we got some guys coming over in 20 minutes. I asked some of the older guys to come over, and Toni volunteered herself, Fangs and Sweet pea"
Your heart involuntarily fluttered at his name and you prayed to god Betty couldn't feel it. You straightened up and reached over her to squeeze Jugheads shoulder.
"thanks Juggy, i dont know what I'd ever do without you guys"
He squeezed your hand before standing up.
You got the pleasure of meeting Sweet Pea after he and Fangs had gotten into a fight with some drunk tourists outside of the Wyrm and needed patching up.
You had been embarrassed at the deep swoop rounding your belly the second you laid eyes on him on your coach. You had been on a run when Jughead texted you, asking for a favor.
They had already been there when you got home and there he was, sitting in your couch with his heavy jacket resting on the arm of the couch while Toni cleaned his arm of blood.
The tourist had carried a pocket knife, and had sliced Sweet Peas bicep.
They had looked up at the sound of you entering the living room, and you had felt unusually hot under their gazes.
You had asked if they needed help with anything and they had thanked you for letting them come over. Well Toni and Fangs did, Sweet Pea looked at you silently.
You hadn´t been able to decipher his facial expression.
The two of you hadn´t spoken until two weeks after that, when you had hosted a party and he had gotten into yet another fight.
You had found him in your kitchen, trying to clean his split eyebrow. The blood had kept trickling down into his eyes and he had struggled to get anywhere with the wound.
You were tipsy, and therefor bold. You had asked him if he needed any help, and when he had grumbled he did not, you asked him to sit down anyways.
With the warm damp cloth in your hand, you gestured to his face and silently asked if you could touch him.
He had once again looked at you silently, long enough to make you nervous but then he nodded and looked way.
You had gently held onto his jaw, wiping the blood away from his eye and sticking a thin band Aid on it to close it back up.
You didn't speak again until he and the other south siders started attending Riverdale high. You weren´t close by any means, you would small talk here and there but nothing further than that.
He showed up half an hour later with Toni and Fangs, and three older Serpents you had met before.
Jughead had sprung back into his role of the makeshift leader and had delegated posts to each of them.
You and the girls had remained upstairs per Jugheads orders, the time had tipped way past midnight and it was still a school night.
The others had fallen asleep relatively fast, leaving you wide eyed and bushy tailed in your bed, shifting back and forth and tossing the covers on and off.
When the clock struck 3 am, you slipped out of bed and past your friends on their mattresses splayed out on the floor of your bedroom.
You had creeped downstairs, smiling at the guys in your living room and moving into the kitchen for something to drink.
Your skin was hot and a little clammy, so you pushed open the back door in the kitchen, and snuck onto your porch.
Your heart leaped out of your chest at the sight of the large figure waiting outside for you.
The figure turned towards you and you breathed a sigh of relief at the familiar face. Sweet Pea was having a smoke break on your back porch, he wasn't a vengeful Ghoulie waiting for you to misstep.
"aren't you supposed to be in bed?" he asked you, blowing the grey smoke into the night air.
You shrugged "guilty as charged". You moved towards him and settled on the porch swing installed to his right, tugging your legs up under you and leaning back against the cool wood panel.
He studied your profile for a moment, visibly weighing his options before moving to set next to you on the swing.
You tried not to let it affect you. But it was harder said than done.
"you okay?" he asked you, short and direct.
"i dont know" you hesitated for a moment, debating how honest you should be, " its hard to feel like im in danger when they haven't actually made a move"
He nodded his head, stubbing his cigarette against the edge of a potted plant and resting it on the rail of the porch. He made sure you knew he would bring it inside with him, part of you found it endearing.
"you probably shouldn't go outside like this unless someone is with you. You were lucky i was already out here" he told you. You glanced at him.
"my knight in shining armor"
He chuckled at your comment.
"its the least i can do" the earnest tone in his voice made the heat rise to your cheeks and you hoped it was too dark for him to notice.
he remembers everything you say, even if he pretends not to.
his jacket somehow always ends up on you
he doesn't talk a lot, but when it's with you, he doesn't shut up
his whole energy shifts when it's just you and him. The tough act fades away when he's with you, and he gets all soft and vulnerable.
he's not big on words, but when he does say something, it lands hard. A simple "I've got you" from him feels heavier than a whole speech from anyone else.
he starts showing up for you without saying why. he walks you home, waits for you outside places he claims he just "happened to be near". it's obvious to everyone but you.
you and him have a shared album of nudes, so when he's in the wyrm and you're working he can scroll through them, seeing naked pictures of you in his serpent jacket.
he gets protective, but not overbearing, way. more like subtly watching everything around you, stepping in before anything even becomes a problem.
when you're cold, he gives you his jacket immediately but then he acts annoyed about it like, "don't get used to it." (you absolutely do.)
the first time you walk mid-argument, he just stands there then folows you a few seconds later because he physically can't let you leave like that.
he's the type to lean in like he's about to say something, then he pauses then he just stays there for a second too long. you can literally feel his breath, and he knows exactly what he is doing
he stays, he always stays.
sex is off the table; he only wants to do it if you are 100% sure, not 99%, just 100%.
your chair is his lap.
he struggles to say "i love you" first. not because he doesn't feel it, but because saying it makes it real and real things can be lost.
what you say, he does. you are the "wife" of his house.
when he kisses you, it's not rushed it's wet, and slow and soft.
he struggles to open up but with you it comes out naturally.
there are moments where he looks at you like he doesn't understand how he got this lucky
he has a rough tone with everyone else but with you it's soft.
you are the only person who can calm him down when he's angry. just your voice or your hand on his arm is enough to pull him back.
if you're upset, he doesn't try to "fix" it with words. he stays. sits next to you, lets you lean on him, grounds you without making it a big moment.
he lets you be dominant if you want to
he hates to see you cry about him.
even when he's distant and struggling he never really lets go. There's always something tying him back to you.
He's a "my lap is my girlfriend's seat" kind of guy, if you're comfortable you'll always be in his lap, the queens throne is the best seat in the house, they say.
You are his "wifey" so what you say goes,
He subconsciously does things to take care of you like pushing your hair off your face (he's obsessed with u) to offering up bites of his food and straight up handing you his drink when you sit down like it's yours,
He loves the feeling of your fingers threading through the hair, especially when kissing it makes his eyes roll back. and Kissing. Kissing a lot.
He stands behind you and puts his arm/s around you over your shoulders all the time, sometimes he lays his arm on your head just to see how long it takes before you get annoyed and shove him off,
He sleeps in his boxers, socks, and a wife beater or a cotton tee, don't ask me why, he's hot- I mean he gets hot at night, but his feetsees get cold,
And when I say he gets sweaty I mean any day of summer you wake up and his and your hair is sticking to his skin, but He's so cute when he sleeps, and he snores sometimes,
He's the type to breathe so slow when he's sleeping that you'll think he's dead if you watch him,
When he's in love he loves hard,
you became very important to him more than he thought someone could,
He values loyalty and community a lot, and he really loves commitment,
Sweet pea sweaty and warm skinned after his basketball game/practice, yuuummy~
He loves a good make out session, neck kissing, hands in hair, groping and all, it's his favorite past time he lives for getting a gasp out of you,
You guys call each other: my guy, my girl, babe/baby, shorty and short cake ect,
He loves physical contact, his hands are always on you unless you say otherwise: on your waist, over your shoulder, in your hair, his arm around your back/your side,
You guys sleep over at each other's place often because he lives for cuddles and soft kisses not to mention how he needs to be coddled from time to time,
He doesn't get you flowers, thinks it's stupid to get somebody something that's dying, if you have the time for it he gets you a potted plant,
He thinks it's hot to have your chapstick/lipgloss smeared on his mouth/chin, you have a picture of him smiling like an idiot like that, and he tries to walk around like that, like a moron if he's not stopped by u,
Y'know those "old lady" strawberry candies? He loves those, and you always find some wrappers in his pockets, fangs and Toni like to say that that's the cutest thing about him but THEE cutest thing about him is the way he giggles when you kiss his neck and jaw while cuddling on the couch,
I imagine that you both are THAT COUPLE, the kind that will be together more time than not,
He's protective, he'll get in-between you and the danger unless you can and/or want to handle it yourself,
Yes, he gets very jealous sometimes and not in a cute way, he has some anger issues and yells when he gets especially ticked, if a rando hits on you or even worse someone who knows you two are together, he'll get in their face and shove their chest most likely ending in a fight,
You just, don't push him when he gets really upset, but 7 times out of 10 you can calm him down and make him feel better,
isaac loves the way your eyes roll back. when you're mad at him or simply for sarcastic measures.
but mostly when he's pushed you back onto the nearest surface, worshipping the sopping heat between your thighs.
but it fills him with a sense of pride when your eyes roll so far back, he can see only the whites. its all because of him. you're quivering beneath him all because of the flick of his tongue.
isaac is smart.
it doesn't take him long to figure out how to make you gasp and cry for more. he's attentive.
he's studying each reaction and now, he's learnt a technique to get you to make those noises that always have him straining in his pants.
he isn't ashamed to admit he's cum untouched just from eating you out.
today was just like any ordinary day. except it wasn't.
it was an unspoken oath isaac had taken. swearing he'd never start anything he couldn't finish in his dorm room.
there were always interruptions.
he had even calculated the probability of various scenarios that could take place if the two of you had gotten nasty in his room.
thats why. his lab at the top floor of iago tower was where you always found yourself.
isaac claimed to love how private and intimate that space could be apart from being just a place of inventions. it was the place in which he had made you cum countless times.
however on this very day, there was no other option. iago tower was shut off for some repairs and your roommate had her whole group of friends over.
it was a nightmare for isaac night. why you may be wondering?
well because for the first time he didn't think he could hold out for one more day without tasting you.
you would laugh at the very poorly disguised hormones coursing through his veins.
it takes less than a minute for him to break his precious oath and he's shutting the door, ushering you towards his bed. you know how this always ends...
.
the sight infront of you has your back arching. his head buried against your cunt. it doesn't help that he's gripping your inner thighs. groaning rather loudly as he enthusiastically laps at your folds.
that when you feel it. the tip of his tongue slows down to trace out letters.
its exhilirating and its downright filthy.
"spell for me."
his voice raspy and breathless. offering you a sight of his face. nose glistening with slick and his lips swollen from his eagerness to draw out a second orgasm from you.
he gives a firm smack to your thigh, and you shiver. shyness hitting you harder when you hear how fucked out your voice sounds.
'...I"
he licks a straight line from your entrance all the way to your throbbing clit. stopping there to suck lightly on the bud of nerves.
"...S"
you manage to choke out. swirling over your folds with just the right pressure.
"..A!"
thighs clamping on either side of his head at the sensation. flicking over your clit teasingly.
"...A"
"...C"
your fists messing up his covers as you tugged. hands flying to grip his hair. unsure of whether to push him away or pull him in.
but you find yourself unconciously pushing him deeper against your cunt. the bridge of his nose rubbing deliciously over your nerves.
he doesn't stop you. infact the moan that escapes him has you rutting up against his hot mouth.
you feel his teeth brush over the skin, he hisses when your thighs cage him in. thrown over his shoulders to keep you open for him to devour.
"M...?"
you whisper out. jaw dropping. his tongue pushes into you fully. nose poking at your clit. you notice his eyes squeezing shut. eyebrows furrowed with intent and an undying loss of control.
"I..."
"..N"
you cry out, desperately tugging at his scalp. his moans vibrating into you.
"..E!"
"thats right. mine."
theres a loud knock on the door. followed by more consecutive knocks.
it sounds like the door was opening. it startles you and you lift your head up.
about to say something but you fall back down into his pillow. writhing in overstimulation as his thumb comes up to rub slow circles on your clit.
isaac's right hand raises up faster than lightning. slamming the door shut with his telekinesis and holding it there. its an unbearably hot sight to witness.
the knocks continue and you whine when he loudly slurps at your wetness.
it has an uncontrollable moan escape you. its hard to remain quiet when you were being forced-fed a piece of heaven.
his left hand moving up swiftly to shove two digits in your mouth. pressing down on your tongue to muffle your noises even though he continued his movements.
a chair noisely scraps across the floor and towards the door. it gets lodged under the doorhandle. a makeshift lock. it has your heart racing with the thought of his roomate walking in and stumbling on a sight like this.
he moves his wrist and a pen on his desk starts magically moving. scribbling away on a piece of paper.
it falls on the floor and you catch a glimpse of what was messily written.
'Gomez, Fuck off.'
the paper slides across the wooden floorboards disappearing under the small gap between the door and the floor.
the knocks stop abrubtly.
it doesn't take long for isaac to lose it. mouthing at your cunt with growing desperation. his hips grinding into the mattress.
groaning like it was the best damn meal he had eaten in a long while.
I COULD IMAGINE ISAAC MULTITASKING LIKE THAT FIRST WITH HOLDING THE DOOR CLOSED UGHHH THATS SO FREAKING HOT AND THEN WRITING THE NOTE AND SLIPPING IT UNDER THE DOOR? KANSOSNDID IH MY WORD. we all know poor gomez just wanted to get down dirty with morticia 🥹💔💔 poor lad BUT MORE FOR US 🤭🤭
The sleep schedule? Who’s heard of THAT? No, he’s up till daylight tinkering or fiddling with whatever project he’s been working on.
Gives you random knickknacks like a bird “yeah that’s a random screw I found while working on my experiment”
Very much an acts of service love language guy, makes contraptions for you to ease your day to day routine.
Let’s you play with his hair, it’s so messy most of the time because he refuses to brush “it takes unnecessary time”
Late nights with him in his lab, with you probably sitting on a desk or smth watching him work and tinker. He isn’t a yapper but he’d condone you.
Possessive little bastard, he won’t show it but he’d seethe if you were even a tad too close for his liking.
smut
interact at your own risk.
Eats you out on his crafting desk like a mad man (well, he is), makes absolutely obscene noises while doing so. What that tongue do? Scrap your guts like he’s trying to get every bit of juice out. He’s a messy eater, let’s just say.
Being a DaVinci, he uses his telekinetic powers to its full ability, whether that be pinning you completely down or over a table, unable to move or… coming in very handy while pumping his fingers into your wet cunt.
Definitely has made some special machines to tease you in some way.
He’s an artist, and that also means that he has sketchbooks full of portraits of you. Some lovely face shots and some nudes. His memory is almost frighteningly good and he’s made sure to memorise every dip and curve of your body.
Licks your body the whole time the two of you are fucking, from your pretty pussy to your hips, around your nipples and right back up to kiss you.
Has the stamina of a machine, his clockwork heart took away some emotion but gave him the endurance to go how many rounds you’d like.
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.
synopsis :: isaac tries to stop his obsession over his sister’s best friend; he relentlessly pushes the thoughts and feelings she causes him aside. nothing seems to work, and she continues to dig deeper and deeper under his skin.
idea loosely based on tear you apart by she wants revenge ! word count :: 3.9k
warnings :: 18+ content, masturbation, oral (fem!receiving), slight choking, obsessive and possessive behavior, isaac putting his powers to use, he’s so obsessed he cums in his pants, whoever decided isaac would call his lover ‘dove’, i owe you my life.
notes :: this is literally 3.9k words on the dot. i hate the ending (i hate all of it) but i had to stop somewhere. i have plenty of requests to tend to, but yet again listening to my playlist this song came on and it felt so isaac. if he fell in love and became obsessed, he’d do anything for that person. i mean he gave up saving francoise because she asked him to save tyler. i couldn’t resist writing it. also thank you so much for 100 followers what ? 🖤
Francoise Night doesn’t have many friends.
People are either too scared of her, or pity her. She has a hatred for both. She’s not a monster, and she’s not a child. It’s hard for her to make connections because of this — what if the person’s intentions aren’t as pure as they seem?
But your friendship with her had surprisingly came easily. You were roommates, had classes together, sat side by side in most of them. Naturally you had duo-projects assigned. That’s where it all started.
Francoise guessed living with someone allows you a better glimpse at the real them. You never looked at her like she was a fragile thing in need of saving, you never looked at her like she was a horrid creature that would pluck your eyes out during the smallest fit of rage.
Eventually, and quite quickly, Francoise attached herself to you greatly. There was hardly a moment where you weren’t together. If you were in the library, she was sitting next to you silently. If you were eating lunch, she’d be sat next to you offering the parts of hers she hadn’t touched. And of course, back in your dorm she loved to talk to you. About various things.
How her Hyde side was handling that day, her deep desires for a Normie life. And Isaac noted every bit of it. Of course he did, he’s like his sister’s personal guardian angel and savior all in one. Nothing in her life gets past him, not when they both practically had to raise each other.
So he would follow you, watch you, all intently and judging. He needed to make sure you didn’t have ulterior motives with his sister like most of the students here. Isaac has always been precise in his calculations and research.
You noticed him as well, in other ways. Like when he would check on his sister during lunch or in between classes. You’d notice his unruly, curly hair, his pale skin, thin body, and height along with the expression of madness made him look sickly.
His watching over the years turned from protecting his sister into admiring you from afar. Becoming obsessed. No one truly sees him or his sister, no one gives them the time of day. But you do. Regardless of the fact you’re more his sister’s friend than his — because of his habit of keeping almost everyone at arms length — it caused him to latch on, obsess over you.
He began popping up more. This time you sat in the corner of the library. Your knees were pressed to your chest while you lost yourself in a book on Hyde lore. Another thing Isaac admired, you cared enough to learn about his sister.
The sound of a chair scraping against the floor causes you to look up from your book. He had sat down across from you. He doesn’t speak much, simply focusing on his studies. This has been happening since the beginning of your final year at Nevermore. Isaac will show up randomly, sit near you. Just you, silently, until it became a normal thing.
You continue staring over your book, his head is down and buried in his notebook. All you can really see is his messy curls and his slender pale fingers writing away about inventions and discoveries you could hardly imagine.
What you didn’t know? He’s come up with a plan, how to get you to become just as beautifully, sickeningly obsessed with him as he is with you.
It all had to start right. Slow, with you unaware of his ulterior motives. At first, he only showed up when Francoise was also with you. He’d hardly engage in conversation, just sit there and observe you. He would ask his sister about you, personal things. Not out of malice, in an attempt to learn, dissect, figure you out. She quickly realized you were becoming one of his obsessions.
He’d never admit this, though. In fact he hates to face it himself. Despite the amount of times he has been in his lab, mind drifting from his current research onto you. You’ll have to be the one to confess to him, even if he has to bend your feelings to his will.
He keeps a neutral expression, scribbling on pages and taking his time to respond to you. Like you’re something getting in the way of his research, as if he hadn’t chosen to sit here with you. But it’s nothing new to you coming from him.
Oddly enough it’s… quite nice. Maybe it’s the excuse to look at his hauntingly beautiful face while he works. Maybe it’s the comfortable silence, doing your own thing in each other’s presence. Something he wouldn’t do with just anyone. It made you feel special.
For a few minutes you let silence fill the space between you. That is, until curiosity kills the cat and you begin asking questions. What he’s working on, what it means, how close he is to getting the answer he wants. It makes his mechanical heart perhaps tick a bit quicker. Despite realizing you’re a curious, talkative person long ago, he isn’t used to others being truly fascinated, interested by his work.
He’d answer with practiced indifference, though you could see the little smirk fighting to claw its way onto his face. He wasn’t exactly stunned with how intelligent your questions were, but each time you asked him something it caused an even deeper infatuation to dig a hole inside him. He’d happily fall into it.
He can’t help but indiscreetly take in your features as you spoke. He’s known for being thorough in his experiments, so why wouldn’t he be thorough in studying you? You don’t understand what you’re doing to him, how badly he wants to risk all his composure just to grab you right here and kiss you until you forget to breathe.
But that’s when it hits, it always does eventually. While you’re asking him another question he gets hit with a wave of uncertainty. Realization hits, fear sets in. He shows none of it. But his head is swimming, feelings are uncertain. They could lead to weakness, hurt, loss of control.
Isaac Night doesn’t lose control.
He goes stoic, freezing in his seat before gathering his things and leaving without a word. You watch him with furrowed brows, your friend’s brother has always been a weird anomaly, but you thought you were making progress.
Isaac finds himself back in his lab, running a hand over his face. He’s had many interests that have faded, replaced by the next best use for his talents and wonderful mind. You’re going to be just like the rest of those lost obsessions. This infatuation will go away.
He sits down at his desk to busy himself with another project. Perhaps an invention. The thought has his mind traveling to you, what he could create for you.
He lets out a mix of a growl and a yell, slamming his fist down. He doesn’t understand this. He’s an intelligent man, but he can’t wrap his head around how something so simple and trivial as a girl, his sister’s friend, can send him down a spiral.
He doesn’t trust or obsess easily, but when he does, it’s strong. It’s unforgiving, it’s harsh, and it’s beautiful all at once. He’s fully willing to do anything for you. He hasn’t felt this way for anyone but his sister, though for you it’s different.
With you he can’t help but notice what you’re wearing every day. How it fits your body, what it shows off. How you did your hair, your hands when you talk. Your lips when you talk. Your natural kindness towards people, which he quickly realized isn’t a weakness of yours. He’s seen you do a complete turn-around on someone once they start belittling Francoise. Or even him.
He’ll tell you he doesn’t need saving, but the fact you would do it without question intrigued him.
He finds himself having moments like these. Where he’s sitting in his dark tower, candles and dinky lamps and the moon being the only things providing light in the space. And he closes his eyes, just for a moment, trying to push his feelings down.
Instead you keep popping into his head. First it’s just thoughts of you, how you’ve wormed yourself into his and Francoise’s lives. How simplistically kind you were to them. How your bare minimum treatment was so foreign to him he couldn’t help but get unhealthily attached even from afar.
How you smelled when he sat next to you. How you looked at him with so much interest just at him explaining how he adapts when he gets his heart wet, or his newest experiment with reanimating deceased animals. How your lips looked as you spoke.
How it would feel to grab you, feel every inch of you. Hold you impossibly close, pressed against him. And only him.
It’s almost like he can feel your skin against his. He’d rake his hands up and down your body, memorizing it like it’s the only thing he needs to study. The thought of being the one to touch you, to kiss every inch of you causes him to take in a sharp breath.
His breathing picks up just slightly when he feels his pants get tighter. He curses under his breath, at you, for what you do to him. You don’t even know the hold you have over him. It makes him angry, it makes him sick.
But still, he reaches under his waistband. Despite his anger and his desire for control, this isn’t lust. Not purely at least. It’s obsession, infatuation. Every pump of his hand has a meaning behind it. Wanting you, craving you. Wishing he could give you a peek inside his head, so you could see what he could do for you, to you.
He’d let you do what you wanted, he’d let you take control. That angers him even more. The need to be in control has been extremely present since he had to take his life into his own hands. He wants you all to himself, but that’s tonight. By tomorrow he’ll be over it. He refuses to let this obsession take over.
For the next few days you plague his mind. All of a sudden his inventions are centered around you, his eyes drift to you during classes you have together. It seems the world has it out for him, because the two of you always managed to find him. And his brain would short circuit. The way your hair framed your face, the way you looked at him. How your uniform pressed against your body. He didn’t know he could be envious of cloth until now.
He ignores it, buries it deep and focuses on anything but you. Nothing works, you’re not just some silly crush. You’re one of the only people to successfully win over his ticking heart. The only other being his sister, and this feeling he has for you isn’t the same he holds for her.
He wants to ravish you, study you, be at your beck and call. He wants to spend every waking moment with you, because if you’re the only person deemed worthy of his time, why should you ever be out of his sight?
He can’t help himself, he needs to face you, take what’s his. He finds himself writing the words ‘Iago Tower, Midnight” on a piece of paper. Your desk is a bit away from his in your shared class, but with a flick of his wrist it lands right in front of you.
You recognize his handwriting, it’s legible but scratchy. Like he can’t waste time writing but it somehow turns out stunning like everything else about him. You don’t reply, you don’t nod, you just look forward, stuffing the paper in your pocket.
He knew you’d show up, a small smirk finding a way on his face at the sound of the rickety elevator making its way up to his laboratory.
You’ve been here before, existing with him silently while the two of you worked. You, on more trivial things like homework. And him, his never-ending experiments driven by his rock solid god complex.
His head doesn’t lift, but you know he hears the click of your shoes against the rickety flooring.
“I got your note.” You announce, nearing the side of his desk. You lean against it, looking over your shoulder at his work. It’s blueprints drawings. Most likely of the next big Night invention waiting to grace Nevermore.
He doesn’t look up at you, he just simply hums in response. You can’t help but let out a small laugh, ever the mysterious man he was. It almost drove you crazy, in the best way.
You lean down a bit to be more level with his face, “Why did you want me here?”
With a practiced smirk he goes to look at you, freezing a bit at the sight before him. The way you were bent gave him a view right into the top of your shirt. His smirk falls and he takes in a sharp breath.
“Your presence helps me focus.” Your head tilts at his statement. It was stated so matter-of-factly, but it was so oddly intimate for Isaac. You turn your head away from him, nodding to cover up the heat blooming in your chest.
If he could tell his words affected you, which is probably the case, he didn’t show it. He simply went back to his work like you weren’t there. But any time you tried to move away, invisible hands kept you at the edge of his desk.
You looked down, seeing his hand lifted a bit, the one keeping you in place. And a burst of confidence had you placing your hand on top of it. His head tilts at the action, eyes darting to the simple contact.
“I like being here with you. When it’s just the two of us.”
You didn’t need to say anything else, the tone of your voice had his focus moving from your hand to your eyes. He leans back in his chair, looking over you with a stare that told you he was battling with himself internally.
Isaac keeps eye contact, still studying you. Less like a curious scientist and more like a predator to its prey. “You’re the only person I let up here with me.” His voice is softer, but still sharp. In the way it seems like he’s telling you things to get your reaction.
You swallow thickly before shaking your head with a little laugh. “I see you bring Francoise up here.”
“To run tests.” He answers smoothly, watching you turn your head again. His telekinetic grip on your body goes to your chin, moving your gaze back to him. “You’re the one I seek out for my own self-gratification.”
He stands swiftly, stepping in front of you. His hold on your face doesn’t waver, keeping you still in front of him. One of his hands grabs one of yours, holding it and rubbing the back of it with his thumb. He bends slightly, lifting your hand to his lips, eyes remaining on yours. He was pushing you, seeing how far he could go. Testing you even without his fancy equipment.
“And does me being here help you focus on your work? Or something else?” He smirks at that, you playing along. Of course you’re right, he couldn’t focus on a single thing with you around. Everything would just start pointing towards you.
His focus finally falls from your eyes to your nose, to your lips. Taking his time to look over every part of your face. As if he hasn’t studied every bit of you that he could a million times over already.
Then he leans in, still keeping your head in place, and presses his lips against yours. It’s gentle, soft, more of a peck than anything. You didn’t expect such a kiss from him, but it had your heart soaring.
Inside his head he was going crazy. His brain was screaming at him to kiss you like he was claiming you. It took everything in him not to. But then he lets your chin go, and you’re leaning in to kiss him again.
It’s as if all resolve snaps, feeling your lips again ignites a hunger in him. He could have managed with a small, fleeting taste. But you had to break him. All of a sudden one hand is on your waist, the other grabbing your hair. You let out a surprised noise into his mouth that he only swallows greedily.
This obsession, addiction, fuels possession. He leaves dark marks and bites along your neck and collarbone. The sound of his name slipping from your lips, it’s such a sweet sound to him.
That ever-so-present force of his presses your bodies together. You can feel the imprint of him pressing against your thigh, a whimper leaving you in response. His kisses trail down to your chest, hands reaching up your shirt to feel your skin.
He wants to learn every curve of your body, every touch that makes you let out those pretty noises. The ones only he’s allowed to cause and hear. His hands go up until they’re lifting your shirt off, your bra following.
He lays you down onto his desk, the bottom half of your body dangling. He positions himself between your legs, bending down to look over your bare torso. You feel him everywhere, and your mind buzzes with anticipation.
His hand slides up to your neck, admiring the claim he’s put on you. He wraps his fingers around your throat, experimentally squeezing as his eyes stay trained on your face. Your eyes flutter shut and a small whine leaves you, eliciting a satisfied hum from Isaac.
He leans down, lips pressed below your ear, “I want to fucking tear you apart, pretty dove.” You let out a small gasp that he cuts off with a kiss. It’s much harsher this time, less calculated, he’s losing his resolve. It’s all your fault.
You feel his hand squeeze occasionally, his free one going under your skirt. He grips your thigh, nails digging into the skin and ripping more noises out of you. You feel your patience thinning.
Your head falls back, your breathless voice calling out his name. He trails open-mouthed kisses down to your stomach, humming at you. “What is it, dove?” You spread your legs farther apart, hoping he’d get your silent plea. But the smirk on his face and his continuation of kisses tells you he needs you to say it.
You huff, hand going to his hair to force his head up. He looks confused, a bit surprised at the action. But the slight pain of your nails digging into his scalp and the grip you have is delicious. He’s surprised himself that he’s allowing it.
You lead his head between your legs, forcing him onto his knees. He could have stopped you, grabbed your hand, he could have even used his mind. But his need to please you, worship you, watch you lay there and writhe in pleasure he gives you.
It scratches that possessive itch better than anything.
So he indulges you, flipping your skirt up to reveal the pretty sight of you absolutely soaked. All because of him. His lips find your inner thigh, pressing kisses and nipping at the skin. He can’t help but smirk at the sight of your hips rutting into the air, and he’s pushing them down without lifting a finger.
Finally his kisses land where you need them, right against your clit through your panties. It feels gross and lewd and perfect all at the same time. It’s written all over your face, the shameful pleasure. He notices everything.
Teasingly slow, his fingers move your panties to the side. That invisible force pins your hips to the desk as his tongue gives a few little flicks. You whine at the tiniest bit of pleasure, but Isaac wants to take his time with you. Watch you unravel and fall apart beneath him.
The grip you have on his hair tightens and you’re forcing him further into your cunt. He just chuckles against you, the vibrations causing your legs to spasm around his head. He doesn’t speed up, giving the least amount of attention he can to your poor pussy.
As if he’s toying with you, experimenting with your body. Seeing how long you can take it. Hearing the noises he can pull out of you. How many times he can make you chant his name.
He brings one finger to your entrance, circling around it. He’s teasing, drawing it out. You attempt to buck your hips up, but they’re forced down even harder.
Finally he relents, tongue flattening and dragging all the way up before he looks up at you. He sucks on your clit, harsh, his attention zeroing in on the way your face scrunches and your breathing quickens into panting.
Isaac kept your shaky legs apart, gripping them so rough he left crescent-shaped marks. He would remove his mouth from you with an erotic, wet pop sound to kiss the imprints his nails left. His fingers sliding into you to make up for the loss of stimulation.
Your moans and whimpers of his name fill his lab, leading his head into those dark places again. Thinking of drawing those noises from you again, with added begging. Maybe from overstimulation, or maybe from providing you barely enough to keep you pleading for more.
His movements get messier the more lost in thought he gets. He can’t help but bite into the plush of your thigh, relishing in the small cry you let out. His slip of focus causes his unseen grip on you to falter, your hips grinding on his hand in an attempt to ride his fingers.
If he would secure you to his operating table, he wouldn’t need to focus on that at all.
“Isaac-” your voice trembles as you call his name. His eyes snap back to your face, watching it contort with every bit of pleasure he’s providing you.
“It’s fascinating watching you squirm.” His voice sounds crazed. The kind of tone you’d hear when he was dangerously close to succeeding in his scientific endeavors, and was teetering on the edge of obsessed-madness.
His tongue drags from the array of bites on your thigh all the way back to your folds. Voice dipping into something softer, “And how do you taste so good?” Isaac’s practically burying his face in your cunt to get more of your arousal. “You’re fucking addicting.”
It’s as if his words were all you needed to send you over the edge. He continued to lap at you through your orgasm, savoring every bit of you. If anything were to go to waste, what was this even for?
He kisses his way back up your body, head winding up in your neck. You feel his breath hot against your ear and his hips pressing into yours. You felt a wet spot of his pants pressed against you, gasping at the feeling.
Isaac simply chuckles in your ear, shame gone and obsession fully taking over. “Like I said dove, you’re addicting.”
synopsis :: isaac tries to stop his obsession over his sister’s best friend; he relentlessly pushes the thoughts and feelings she causes him aside. nothing seems to work, and she continues to dig deeper and deeper under his skin.
idea loosely based on tear you apart by she wants revenge ! word count :: 3.9k
warnings :: 18+ content, masturbation, oral (fem!receiving), slight choking, obsessive and possessive behavior, isaac putting his powers to use, he’s so obsessed he cums in his pants, whoever decided isaac would call his lover ‘dove’, i owe you my life.
notes :: this is literally 3.9k words on the dot. i hate the ending (i hate all of it) but i had to stop somewhere. i have plenty of requests to tend to, but yet again listening to my playlist this song came on and it felt so isaac. if he fell in love and became obsessed, he’d do anything for that person. i mean he gave up saving francoise because she asked him to save tyler. i couldn’t resist writing it. also thank you so much for 100 followers what ? 🖤
Francoise Night doesn’t have many friends.
People are either too scared of her, or pity her. She has a hatred for both. She’s not a monster, and she’s not a child. It’s hard for her to make connections because of this — what if the person’s intentions aren’t as pure as they seem?
But your friendship with her had surprisingly came easily. You were roommates, had classes together, sat side by side in most of them. Naturally you had duo-projects assigned. That’s where it all started.
Francoise guessed living with someone allows you a better glimpse at the real them. You never looked at her like she was a fragile thing in need of saving, you never looked at her like she was a horrid creature that would pluck your eyes out during the smallest fit of rage.
Eventually, and quite quickly, Francoise attached herself to you greatly. There was hardly a moment where you weren’t together. If you were in the library, she was sitting next to you silently. If you were eating lunch, she’d be sat next to you offering the parts of hers she hadn’t touched. And of course, back in your dorm she loved to talk to you. About various things.
How her Hyde side was handling that day, her deep desires for a Normie life. And Isaac noted every bit of it. Of course he did, he’s like his sister’s personal guardian angel and savior all in one. Nothing in her life gets past him, not when they both practically had to raise each other.
So he would follow you, watch you, all intently and judging. He needed to make sure you didn’t have ulterior motives with his sister like most of the students here. Isaac has always been precise in his calculations and research.
You noticed him as well, in other ways. Like when he would check on his sister during lunch or in between classes. You’d notice his unruly, curly hair, his pale skin, thin body, and height along with the expression of madness made him look sickly.
His watching over the years turned from protecting his sister into admiring you from afar. Becoming obsessed. No one truly sees him or his sister, no one gives them the time of day. But you do. Regardless of the fact you’re more his sister’s friend than his — because of his habit of keeping almost everyone at arms length — it caused him to latch on, obsess over you.
He began popping up more. This time you sat in the corner of the library. Your knees were pressed to your chest while you lost yourself in a book on Hyde lore. Another thing Isaac admired, you cared enough to learn about his sister.
The sound of a chair scraping against the floor causes you to look up from your book. He had sat down across from you. He doesn’t speak much, simply focusing on his studies. This has been happening since the beginning of your final year at Nevermore. Isaac will show up randomly, sit near you. Just you, silently, until it became a normal thing.
You continue staring over your book, his head is down and buried in his notebook. All you can really see is his messy curls and his slender pale fingers writing away about inventions and discoveries you could hardly imagine.
What you didn’t know? He’s come up with a plan, how to get you to become just as beautifully, sickeningly obsessed with him as he is with you.
It all had to start right. Slow, with you unaware of his ulterior motives. At first, he only showed up when Francoise was also with you. He’d hardly engage in conversation, just sit there and observe you. He would ask his sister about you, personal things. Not out of malice, in an attempt to learn, dissect, figure you out. She quickly realized you were becoming one of his obsessions.
He’d never admit this, though. In fact he hates to face it himself. Despite the amount of times he has been in his lab, mind drifting from his current research onto you. You’ll have to be the one to confess to him, even if he has to bend your feelings to his will.
He keeps a neutral expression, scribbling on pages and taking his time to respond to you. Like you’re something getting in the way of his research, as if he hadn’t chosen to sit here with you. But it’s nothing new to you coming from him.
Oddly enough it’s… quite nice. Maybe it’s the excuse to look at his hauntingly beautiful face while he works. Maybe it’s the comfortable silence, doing your own thing in each other’s presence. Something he wouldn’t do with just anyone. It made you feel special.
For a few minutes you let silence fill the space between you. That is, until curiosity kills the cat and you begin asking questions. What he’s working on, what it means, how close he is to getting the answer he wants. It makes his mechanical heart perhaps tick a bit quicker. Despite realizing you’re a curious, talkative person long ago, he isn’t used to others being truly fascinated, interested by his work.
He’d answer with practiced indifference, though you could see the little smirk fighting to claw its way onto his face. He wasn’t exactly stunned with how intelligent your questions were, but each time you asked him something it caused an even deeper infatuation to dig a hole inside him. He’d happily fall into it.
He can’t help but indiscreetly take in your features as you spoke. He’s known for being thorough in his experiments, so why wouldn’t he be thorough in studying you? You don’t understand what you’re doing to him, how badly he wants to risk all his composure just to grab you right here and kiss you until you forget to breathe.
But that’s when it hits, it always does eventually. While you’re asking him another question he gets hit with a wave of uncertainty. Realization hits, fear sets in. He shows none of it. But his head is swimming, feelings are uncertain. They could lead to weakness, hurt, loss of control.
Isaac Night doesn’t lose control.
He goes stoic, freezing in his seat before gathering his things and leaving without a word. You watch him with furrowed brows, your friend’s brother has always been a weird anomaly, but you thought you were making progress.
Isaac finds himself back in his lab, running a hand over his face. He’s had many interests that have faded, replaced by the next best use for his talents and wonderful mind. You’re going to be just like the rest of those lost obsessions. This infatuation will go away.
He sits down at his desk to busy himself with another project. Perhaps an invention. The thought has his mind traveling to you, what he could create for you.
He lets out a mix of a growl and a yell, slamming his fist down. He doesn’t understand this. He’s an intelligent man, but he can’t wrap his head around how something so simple and trivial as a girl, his sister’s friend, can send him down a spiral.
He doesn’t trust or obsess easily, but when he does, it’s strong. It’s unforgiving, it’s harsh, and it’s beautiful all at once. He’s fully willing to do anything for you. He hasn’t felt this way for anyone but his sister, though for you it’s different.
With you he can’t help but notice what you’re wearing every day. How it fits your body, what it shows off. How you did your hair, your hands when you talk. Your lips when you talk. Your natural kindness towards people, which he quickly realized isn’t a weakness of yours. He’s seen you do a complete turn-around on someone once they start belittling Francoise. Or even him.
He’ll tell you he doesn’t need saving, but the fact you would do it without question intrigued him.
He finds himself having moments like these. Where he’s sitting in his dark tower, candles and dinky lamps and the moon being the only things providing light in the space. And he closes his eyes, just for a moment, trying to push his feelings down.
Instead you keep popping into his head. First it’s just thoughts of you, how you’ve wormed yourself into his and Francoise’s lives. How simplistically kind you were to them. How your bare minimum treatment was so foreign to him he couldn’t help but get unhealthily attached even from afar.
How you smelled when he sat next to you. How you looked at him with so much interest just at him explaining how he adapts when he gets his heart wet, or his newest experiment with reanimating deceased animals. How your lips looked as you spoke.
How it would feel to grab you, feel every inch of you. Hold you impossibly close, pressed against him. And only him.
It’s almost like he can feel your skin against his. He’d rake his hands up and down your body, memorizing it like it’s the only thing he needs to study. The thought of being the one to touch you, to kiss every inch of you causes him to take in a sharp breath.
His breathing picks up just slightly when he feels his pants get tighter. He curses under his breath, at you, for what you do to him. You don’t even know the hold you have over him. It makes him angry, it makes him sick.
But still, he reaches under his waistband. Despite his anger and his desire for control, this isn’t lust. Not purely at least. It’s obsession, infatuation. Every pump of his hand has a meaning behind it. Wanting you, craving you. Wishing he could give you a peek inside his head, so you could see what he could do for you, to you.
He’d let you do what you wanted, he’d let you take control. That angers him even more. The need to be in control has been extremely present since he had to take his life into his own hands. He wants you all to himself, but that’s tonight. By tomorrow he’ll be over it. He refuses to let this obsession take over.
For the next few days you plague his mind. All of a sudden his inventions are centered around you, his eyes drift to you during classes you have together. It seems the world has it out for him, because the two of you always managed to find him. And his brain would short circuit. The way your hair framed your face, the way you looked at him. How your uniform pressed against your body. He didn’t know he could be envious of cloth until now.
He ignores it, buries it deep and focuses on anything but you. Nothing works, you’re not just some silly crush. You’re one of the only people to successfully win over his ticking heart. The only other being his sister, and this feeling he has for you isn’t the same he holds for her.
He wants to ravish you, study you, be at your beck and call. He wants to spend every waking moment with you, because if you’re the only person deemed worthy of his time, why should you ever be out of his sight?
He can’t help himself, he needs to face you, take what’s his. He finds himself writing the words ‘Iago Tower, Midnight” on a piece of paper. Your desk is a bit away from his in your shared class, but with a flick of his wrist it lands right in front of you.
You recognize his handwriting, it’s legible but scratchy. Like he can’t waste time writing but it somehow turns out stunning like everything else about him. You don’t reply, you don’t nod, you just look forward, stuffing the paper in your pocket.
He knew you’d show up, a small smirk finding a way on his face at the sound of the rickety elevator making its way up to his laboratory.
You’ve been here before, existing with him silently while the two of you worked. You, on more trivial things like homework. And him, his never-ending experiments driven by his rock solid god complex.
His head doesn’t lift, but you know he hears the click of your shoes against the rickety flooring.
“I got your note.” You announce, nearing the side of his desk. You lean against it, looking over your shoulder at his work. It’s blueprints drawings. Most likely of the next big Night invention waiting to grace Nevermore.
He doesn’t look up at you, he just simply hums in response. You can’t help but let out a small laugh, ever the mysterious man he was. It almost drove you crazy, in the best way.
You lean down a bit to be more level with his face, “Why did you want me here?”
With a practiced smirk he goes to look at you, freezing a bit at the sight before him. The way you were bent gave him a view right into the top of your shirt. His smirk falls and he takes in a sharp breath.
“Your presence helps me focus.” Your head tilts at his statement. It was stated so matter-of-factly, but it was so oddly intimate for Isaac. You turn your head away from him, nodding to cover up the heat blooming in your chest.
If he could tell his words affected you, which is probably the case, he didn’t show it. He simply went back to his work like you weren’t there. But any time you tried to move away, invisible hands kept you at the edge of his desk.
You looked down, seeing his hand lifted a bit, the one keeping you in place. And a burst of confidence had you placing your hand on top of it. His head tilts at the action, eyes darting to the simple contact.
“I like being here with you. When it’s just the two of us.”
You didn’t need to say anything else, the tone of your voice had his focus moving from your hand to your eyes. He leans back in his chair, looking over you with a stare that told you he was battling with himself internally.
Isaac keeps eye contact, still studying you. Less like a curious scientist and more like a predator to its prey. “You’re the only person I let up here with me.” His voice is softer, but still sharp. In the way it seems like he’s telling you things to get your reaction.
You swallow thickly before shaking your head with a little laugh. “I see you bring Francoise up here.”
“To run tests.” He answers smoothly, watching you turn your head again. His telekinetic grip on your body goes to your chin, moving your gaze back to him. “You’re the one I seek out for my own self-gratification.”
He stands swiftly, stepping in front of you. His hold on your face doesn’t waver, keeping you still in front of him. One of his hands grabs one of yours, holding it and rubbing the back of it with his thumb. He bends slightly, lifting your hand to his lips, eyes remaining on yours. He was pushing you, seeing how far he could go. Testing you even without his fancy equipment.
“And does me being here help you focus on your work? Or something else?” He smirks at that, you playing along. Of course you’re right, he couldn’t focus on a single thing with you around. Everything would just start pointing towards you.
His focus finally falls from your eyes to your nose, to your lips. Taking his time to look over every part of your face. As if he hasn’t studied every bit of you that he could a million times over already.
Then he leans in, still keeping your head in place, and presses his lips against yours. It’s gentle, soft, more of a peck than anything. You didn’t expect such a kiss from him, but it had your heart soaring.
Inside his head he was going crazy. His brain was screaming at him to kiss you like he was claiming you. It took everything in him not to. But then he lets your chin go, and you’re leaning in to kiss him again.
It’s as if all resolve snaps, feeling your lips again ignites a hunger in him. He could have managed with a small, fleeting taste. But you had to break him. All of a sudden one hand is on your waist, the other grabbing your hair. You let out a surprised noise into his mouth that he only swallows greedily.
This obsession, addiction, fuels possession. He leaves dark marks and bites along your neck and collarbone. The sound of his name slipping from your lips, it’s such a sweet sound to him.
That ever-so-present force of his presses your bodies together. You can feel the imprint of him pressing against your thigh, a whimper leaving you in response. His kisses trail down to your chest, hands reaching up your shirt to feel your skin.
He wants to learn every curve of your body, every touch that makes you let out those pretty noises. The ones only he’s allowed to cause and hear. His hands go up until they’re lifting your shirt off, your bra following.
He lays you down onto his desk, the bottom half of your body dangling. He positions himself between your legs, bending down to look over your bare torso. You feel him everywhere, and your mind buzzes with anticipation.
His hand slides up to your neck, admiring the claim he’s put on you. He wraps his fingers around your throat, experimentally squeezing as his eyes stay trained on your face. Your eyes flutter shut and a small whine leaves you, eliciting a satisfied hum from Isaac.
He leans down, lips pressed below your ear, “I want to fucking tear you apart, pretty dove.” You let out a small gasp that he cuts off with a kiss. It’s much harsher this time, less calculated, he’s losing his resolve. It’s all your fault.
You feel his hand squeeze occasionally, his free one going under your skirt. He grips your thigh, nails digging into the skin and ripping more noises out of you. You feel your patience thinning.
Your head falls back, your breathless voice calling out his name. He trails open-mouthed kisses down to your stomach, humming at you. “What is it, dove?” You spread your legs farther apart, hoping he’d get your silent plea. But the smirk on his face and his continuation of kisses tells you he needs you to say it.
You huff, hand going to his hair to force his head up. He looks confused, a bit surprised at the action. But the slight pain of your nails digging into his scalp and the grip you have is delicious. He’s surprised himself that he’s allowing it.
You lead his head between your legs, forcing him onto his knees. He could have stopped you, grabbed your hand, he could have even used his mind. But his need to please you, worship you, watch you lay there and writhe in pleasure he gives you.
It scratches that possessive itch better than anything.
So he indulges you, flipping your skirt up to reveal the pretty sight of you absolutely soaked. All because of him. His lips find your inner thigh, pressing kisses and nipping at the skin. He can’t help but smirk at the sight of your hips rutting into the air, and he’s pushing them down without lifting a finger.
Finally his kisses land where you need them, right against your clit through your panties. It feels gross and lewd and perfect all at the same time. It’s written all over your face, the shameful pleasure. He notices everything.
Teasingly slow, his fingers move your panties to the side. That invisible force pins your hips to the desk as his tongue gives a few little flicks. You whine at the tiniest bit of pleasure, but Isaac wants to take his time with you. Watch you unravel and fall apart beneath him.
The grip you have on his hair tightens and you’re forcing him further into your cunt. He just chuckles against you, the vibrations causing your legs to spasm around his head. He doesn’t speed up, giving the least amount of attention he can to your poor pussy.
As if he’s toying with you, experimenting with your body. Seeing how long you can take it. Hearing the noises he can pull out of you. How many times he can make you chant his name.
He brings one finger to your entrance, circling around it. He’s teasing, drawing it out. You attempt to buck your hips up, but they’re forced down even harder.
Finally he relents, tongue flattening and dragging all the way up before he looks up at you. He sucks on your clit, harsh, his attention zeroing in on the way your face scrunches and your breathing quickens into panting.
Isaac kept your shaky legs apart, gripping them so rough he left crescent-shaped marks. He would remove his mouth from you with an erotic, wet pop sound to kiss the imprints his nails left. His fingers sliding into you to make up for the loss of stimulation.
Your moans and whimpers of his name fill his lab, leading his head into those dark places again. Thinking of drawing those noises from you again, with added begging. Maybe from overstimulation, or maybe from providing you barely enough to keep you pleading for more.
His movements get messier the more lost in thought he gets. He can’t help but bite into the plush of your thigh, relishing in the small cry you let out. His slip of focus causes his unseen grip on you to falter, your hips grinding on his hand in an attempt to ride his fingers.
If he would secure you to his operating table, he wouldn’t need to focus on that at all.
“Isaac-” your voice trembles as you call his name. His eyes snap back to your face, watching it contort with every bit of pleasure he’s providing you.
“It’s fascinating watching you squirm.” His voice sounds crazed. The kind of tone you’d hear when he was dangerously close to succeeding in his scientific endeavors, and was teetering on the edge of obsessed-madness.
His tongue drags from the array of bites on your thigh all the way back to your folds. Voice dipping into something softer, “And how do you taste so good?” Isaac’s practically burying his face in your cunt to get more of your arousal. “You’re fucking addicting.”
It’s as if his words were all you needed to send you over the edge. He continued to lap at you through your orgasm, savoring every bit of you. If anything were to go to waste, what was this even for?
He kisses his way back up your body, head winding up in your neck. You feel his breath hot against your ear and his hips pressing into yours. You felt a wet spot of his pants pressed against you, gasping at the feeling.
Isaac simply chuckles in your ear, shame gone and obsession fully taking over. “Like I said dove, you’re addicting.”
He created you, driven by his own hubris: his need to play god. You were perfect, his prized creation he'd call you in his journal. He'd keep notes on your progress, your diet, how long it took for your battery to run out.
Curious you were very curious: whenever he was working on something in the lab, you would ask him what it was. If he were holding a beaker, “Isaac what is that?” you'd ask, and he'd happily answer allowing you to look at it more closely.
You hated being alone: you got scared being alone in that tower all by yourself. so he got you a stuffed animal to keep you company. a dog that you named, ‘Scraps’ you cherished scraps and cuddled with it all night.
He introduced his sister to you: and she found you absolutely amazing. you were shy at first, but quickly opened up to her, she even helped you with your hair. The two of you quickly becoming friends.
He sneaks you out: He finally caves in and sneaks you out of the tower, wrapping you in a hooded cloak. He shows you the hidden passageways around the school, your eyes filled with wonder and delight at seeing even the smallest things. He held your hand the entire time.
When he showed you his heart: He showed you his heart, ticking and cold — a mechanical clockwork creation where something human once lived. You listened to its steady rhythm, ticking with quiet resolve.“It’s beautiful,” you said, looking at it in awe.
He kept you safe: Hidden away in Iago Tower, he made you a little makeshift bed in the corner of his lab. You were too precious for him to lose. If anyone other than his sister found out, you’d surely be taken from him — experimented on. And he couldn’t bear that.
You cared about Isaac: You cared for him so much more than you should. He made you short-circuit — made your cheeks flush red. Whenever he held your hand, butterflies fluttered in your stomach. How happy you were whenever he stayed in the tower, during a thunderstorm to keep you company.
He cared about You: Somehow, you — his very own creation — had crept your way into his cold, mechanical heart. He found himself caring about you more than he ever expected, actually enjoying your company more than anyone else’s. He loved hearing you talk about your day, the books you’d read, and the little things you’d done.
He came to you one night: Tired from staying up all night working on the blueprints for his machine to save his sister, he finally let you convince him to take a break. It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep in your arms, his head resting against your chest. You smiled softly, humming as you ran your fingers through his curly hair.
When he finally opened his eyes hours later, you were fast asleep too. Noticing you hadn’t attached the jumper cables to your neck bolts, he did it for you so you’d be charged up in the morning. Moving carefully so as not to wake you, he stood and slipped off his trench coat, draping it over you. Then, leaning down, he brushed a few strands of hair from your face and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. Then he slowly turned away from you, footsteps retreating towards the elevator.
a/n: I know this isn't much but I hope I did okay 😔
summary: After an argument with wednesday you go to prove her wrong until you're caught and held in Willow Hill Asylum.
However, now coupled up in a cell with a zombie, your plan starts to become a forgotten memory..
warnings: slow burn, eventual smut 18+, violence, gore, imprisonment, emotional and sexual tension, no use of y/n, obsessive!dark!isaac, psychological manipulation, mature, dark romance, angst, possessive behaviour, smut, teasing, minors dni..
1/2 2/2
a/n: I love writing angst, but smut is on a diff level, much love to smut writers idk how you do it. Should I make this a longer series??
The chill of the night wrapped around you like a shroud after leaving behind the asylum's rusted side door, the metallic screech echoing into the void.
Your lungs burned, each gasp pulling in the sharp scent of pine and damp earth from the encroaching woods.
His footsteps were a low, relentless rhythm—too steady for a man who should be shambling, too purposeful for the undead.. thing the files had hinted at. John Doe, they'd labelled him.
A ghost in the system.
But now, out here under the fractured moonlight, he felt anything but ethereal. He felt real, dangerously so, his shadow merging with yours as if he'd always been there.
You spun to face him, heart slamming against your ribs like it wanted to escape. The asylum loomed in the distance, its windows flickering with the first hints of chaos, shouts, maybe, or the wail of sirens starting to stir.
And Wednesday… she'd be on her way, right? She had to be inside by now, her sharp eyes cutting through the madness to find you.
But here you were, alone with him, this towering figure whose pale skin gleamed unnaturally, veins threading like dark rivers under the surface.
"We have to move," he growled, his voice a rough scrape that vibrated through the air, landing heavy in your chest. He reached for you, fingers curling around your waist again, not yanking, but holding, like he was afraid you'd dissolve if he let go. His touch was cold, yes, but it seared, sending a traitorous spark up your arm that pooled low and warm in your core.
You pulled back, but not far enough. Your body betrayed you, lingering in the space he'd invaded. "I dont even know who the hell you are.." The words tumbled out, laced with fear and something sharper, something that made your skin flush despite the bite of the wind.
"You've already figured that out. Dont ask questions you already know the answer to dove." Your eyes traced him against your will, the broad sweep of his shoulders straining his tattered shirt, the way his chest rose and fell in a mimicry of breath alongside the ticking of his clockwork heart.
He was a zombie, a walking corpse, yet the pull toward him was alive, electric, twisting your fear into a knot of unwanted desire.
He stepped closer, closing the gap until the heat of your body clashed with his chill. His free hand lifted, hovering near your face, as if memorizing the curve of your jaw without touching. "You think you should run," he murmured, eyes intense but pleading, boring into yours. "But you won't."
"Don't tell me what I'll do," you shot back, voice trembling, but your feet stayed rooted. The forest whispered around you, leaves rustling like conspirators, and in that moment, the world narrowed to him.
To the way his gaze stripped you bare, not just of clothes but of defences, seeing the flicker of attraction you tried to bury.
He was obsession incarnate, and it terrified you how much you wanted to lean into it.
His lips quirked, not a smile but something darker, hungrier. "Then prove me wrong." The challenge hung between you, thick as fog, and your breath caught.
You couldn't.
The words lodged in your throat, replaced by the magnetic drag of his presence, the way his scent, earth, decay, and a faint, metallic tang wrapped around you like a promise.
"You don't know what you're doing," you whispered, hating how small you sounded, how your body arched just a fraction toward him.
Your pulse thrummed under his fingers, and he felt it—he knew, his thumb pressing lightly, tracing the frantic beat like it was a secret only he could claim.
"I know exactly what I'm doing," he replied, voice dropping to a husky timbre that sent shivers racing down your spine, pooling between your thighs. "I'm keeping you with me.." His hand slid up your arm, slow, deliberate, fingers brushing the edge of your sleeve.
The contact was feather-light, almost reverent, but it ignited something fierce inside you, a spark that made your nipples tighten against your shirt, your breath hitch in a way that was pure, aching need.
You drew in a sharp inhale, stepping back until your shoulders hit the rough bark of a tree. But he followed, caging you without effort, his body inches from yours.
The tension coiled tight, a live wire humming in the air. You could feel the hard planes of him, the unnatural firmness of his form pressing close—not touching fully but close enough to imagine. To crave. "This isn't—"
"Safe?" he supplied, leaning in until his cool breath ghosted your neck. "It isn't meant to be. But tell me you don't feel it. This… pull." His fingers trailed higher, grazing the bare skin at your collarbone, and you bit your lip to stifle a gasp. It was wrong—God, so wrong.
He was a killer, a zombie stitched from nightmares, his past a graveyard of sins. Yet here you were, body alive with heat, thighs clenching at the mere thought of his hands exploring further, claiming what your mind screamed to deny.
Behind you, the asylum's sirens pierced the night, a distant wail that shattered the haze for a heartbeat.
You thought you heard it then—Wednesday's voice, sharp and calling your name, faint but cutting through the trees. Panic surged, but it tangled with the desire, making everything sharper, more desperate.
"Wednesday's here," you said quickly, twisting sideways, forcing air into your lungs as you tried to slip from his grasp. "She'll find me. She always does."
His eyes flashed, a shadow of jealousy darkening them as he recaptured your body, pulling you back flush against him. You felt it then—the rigid length of his cock straining against his pants, pressing insistently into your hip. Unnatural, unyielding, but throbbing with a dark hunger that mirrored your own. "She can't have you," he rasped, voice laced with possession, his free hand splaying across your lower back, fingers digging in just enough to arch you toward him. "Not like this. I see how you look at me—wanting, even now. Your heart's racing, your skin's hot. Let me touch you. Let me show you how good it can be, away from the addams family's sins.."
You whimpered, the sound escaping before you could cage it, your hands fisting in his shirt. The fabric was rough under your palms, but beneath it, his body was cool stone, hard, inviting in its forbidden strength.
Emotional turmoil crashed over you, fear of what he was, guilt over Wednesday searching in vain, the complication of your own arousal twisting like a knife.
He was everything you should run from, a murderer reborn and unlikely to change, and yet the emotional tether he'd woven in those stolen glances inside the asylum pulled tighter.
You wanted to hate him, to flee, but the emotional and physical connection drowned it all, leaving you wet and aching, thighs pressing together against the building ache.
"Isaac," you breathed, the name slipping out unbidden, a realization dawning from half-remembered horrors. News stories, whispers of something that carved through the town, vanishing into myth only to reemerge as this… thing.
Stepping back hit like a blow, but his hold kept you pinned, his mouth hovering near your ear.
"You know," he murmured, not pulling away, his lips brushing the shell of your ear in a tease that made you shiver. "Still, you're here..." His hand ventured lower, palm sliding over the curve of your ass, squeezing with possessive intent.
The pressure sent a jolt straight to your core, your clit throbbing in response. "Come with me. I can feel how wet you are already, don't lie to me."
Tears pricked your eyes, not from sorrow but from the overwhelming storm inside, the emotional rawness of his plea without mercy.
Wednesday's distant call echoed again, sirens swelling, but it felt worlds away. Your mind screamed warnings, his crimes, his curse, the life you'd shatter by choosing this—but your body leaned in, lips parting as his mouth descended, brushing yours in a ghost of a kiss.
"I… I can't," you gasped, even as your fingers tangled in his curly black hair, pulling him closer.
The lie tasted like truth, complicated by the depth of your longing.
"You will," he whispered against your lips, his bulge grinding subtly against you, a promise of what's to come. "Because you want this as much as I do. Say it."
For one heartbeat, silence reigned, the world shrinking to that dangerous space where breath and need blurred.
Then, with the alarms fading into the night, you nodded, heart picking the shadowed path before your mind could protest.
He turned, pulling you into the trees, the darkness swallowing you both as the suspense thickened, ripe with the certainty of tangled limbs and breathless cries to follow.
STOP IT RN WHY WOULD UOU END IT ON THAAAATTT I’M ALL HOT AND BOTHERED NOW BRO UGH 💔💔 PLEASE I BEG OF YOU TO CONTINUE THIS.
I literally spent like hours scrolling down your page trying to find part two after i read part one (i also got distracted and read some of the fics you reblogged and my my you have impeccable taste) BUT IMAGINE MY DISAPPOINTMENT WHEN I FINALLY FIND IT AND YOU END ON THAT NOTE. STOP IT RN 💔💔
I NEED A PART 3 AND 4 AND POTENTIALLY A 5 RN OR I’M GONNA DIE 😭😭😭💔💔 PLEASE I BEG OF YOU.
