#boyfriend!stiles | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

strawberriesandhotmen · 23 days ago

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Undone For You

a/n: Hello, my pookily bookily bears. This scenario has been running rampant in my mind for weeks, so now the rest of you get to experience it with me.

pairing: boyfriend!Stiles x fem!virgin!reader

CW +18 smut: swearing, praise, hickeys, oral f!receiving, fingering, piv unprotected (wrap it up!)

word count: 5.5k

“Baby, I’m bored.” You whined, kicking your feet childishly as you sat on Stiles’ desk. The day had threatened to be slow to begin with, the only plans for the both of you being to hang out with Scott and Allison. Now that they had canceled, you were surely doomed to a painfully average day.

“Me too, beautiful.” Stiles let out a deep sigh as he laid back on his bed, completely oblivious to how the nickname still made your heart flutter after a year of dating. He ran a hand over his face in agitation, doubtlessly racking his brain for something to do.

After a minute or two of silence, the AC kicked on and goosebumps immediately prickled along your arms. You tended to be sensitive to the cold anyways, and sitting directly under the vent was not proving to be helpful. Being too lazy to actually walk two feet and grab a blanket, you smiled triumphantly as your eyes landed on one of Stiles’ discarded flannels that sat within arms reach. Sliding it over your tank top, you adjusted your shorts that had ridden up slightly on your thighs.

The two of you must have been a terribly oblivious pair, because it was now you who failed to notice the effect you were having on Stiles. He had always been partial to the sight of you in his clothes, but right now? With nothing else on his mind able to distract from the view in front of him? His mind began to veer to…heated things.

Those honey colored eyes were practically dripping with lust at the sight of you, his flannel draped over your curves in the most delectable way. It took every ounce of his self control to not ravage you immediately; you two had never gone further than making out, and you were worlds more important to him than sexual pleasure (however much he may fantasize about it).

His gaze fell to the way your feet didn’t quite touch the floor as you sat on his desk, the adorable manner in which you swung them back and forth absently. You looked precious, that subtle pout pulling at your features as you ran a hand through your hair, staring into the distance while your mind wandered to far off places. He was torturing himself, he knew, allowing himself to admire you like this when he couldn’t have you. Not yet. You had said you weren’t ready, and he respected that. He was even okay with it, but no amount of acceptance could stop the jolt that ran straight to his dick when his eyes landed on that teasing bit of exposed cleavage.

What was wrong with him, he wondered, was he a pervert? He didn’t think so, but he did feel as though he was properly acting like one at the moment. He just couldn’t help himself; that gorgeous skin that he knew to be so soft, those innocent eyes he could stare into for hours, your plump cheeks that flushed pink the moment a compliment reached your ears…fuck he was enamored with you.

“Sweetheart?” He rasped, clearing his strained throat as he sat up against his headboard. You glanced up with a questioning look in your eyes, wondering if he had thought of an activity for you two.

“Yes, baby?” He smiled to himself at the nickname as it fell from your perfect lips. With a pat of his jean-clad thigh, he motioned you over to him.

“Come here.” It wasn’t a command, but a request, more like. He always spoke to you in the sweetest of tones; you never wanted to not oblige what he was asking. With an excited giggle that lit up your eyes, you hopped off the desk and padded over to him, wasting no time in straddling his lap. As his hands moved to grip your hips, your arms wrapped around his neck while you smiled widely.

“What is it?” You weren’t sure why he had called you over, but you didn’t care. You just loved being with him.

“You haven’t done anything but sit there, and I’m undone for you already.” You furrowed your brow at his words, confused, but held your tongue as he continued. “You’re just so damn beautiful, I’m losing my fucking mind.” He looked at you with an expression of utter adoration; he seemed almost reverent.

“Sti…” You whispered, a soft smile on your lips as you cupped his cheek with your hand. “I love you so much.” Those words. Those words were what made him snap. Without warning, his lips crashed into yours and his grip on your hips became almost bruising. You immediately returned the kiss, feeling no hint of hesitation anywhere in your body. His tongue bullied its way into your mouth, exploring like it was uncharted territory. As he groaned against your lips you felt his arousal grow beneath you; this wasn’t a new experience, but this time it felt different. It felt like…more.

Everything was heightened. The feeling of his lips on yours, of his hair in your hands, of your hips pressed together…it was all so intense. You hadn’t expected to lose your virginity today (or anytime soon for that matter), but now it damn well looked like a real possibility.

You had told him before that you wanted to wait, and wait a while. Technically it had been some time since that conversation, so you wouldn’t really be abandoning your morals. It would simply be an act of taking the next step in your relationship, a rather satisfying step. You would be lying if you said you weren’t a little nervous; after all, it was going to hurt, even if just a little bit. But this was Stiles, he would make it better. He always made everything better.

You surprised him with a languid roll of your hips, the friction against your throbbing core absolutely delectable. You smiled against his parted lips as a gasp escaped them, pleased with the effect you were having on him. He seemed frozen in place as you began to move your hips in a torturous rhythm, your lips now latching onto the sensitive skin of his neck. You metaphorically devoured the way his breath was quickened, the way his heart beat just a little faster each time your hips met.

You were beginning to grow impatient, needy. Your small hands migrated downward to the hem of his shirt, tugging at it eagerly.

“Off.” You breathed simply, feeling no need to beat around the bush. A huff of surprise escaped his throat at your blatant ask, but he snapped himself out of his momentary stupor and removed his shirt in one clean motion.

Fuck, you thought. How did you get so lucky?

You paused your attack on his neck to admire his exposed torso, your eyes pouring over every detail as if to memorize him. He was so…beautiful. And to think that’s what he called you. You hadn’t realized until he let out a low groan how your hands were running along his chest, then his arms, in an almost worshipful way. You desired him so profoundly, the feeling overwhelming you.

“You’re so beautiful.” You repeated in a whisper just loud enough for him to hear. A smile pulled at his features at your words, and he shook his head subtly.

“You’re the beautiful one, sweetheart.” Before you could protest, he pressed a kiss to your swollen lips, almost as if he knew you would try to argue. This kiss was different than the first; it was slower, yet more passionate, more…meaningful. It was as if you were both pouring your heart and soul into the simple, taken-for-granted gesture, as if words simply couldn’t do justice to your feelings. And you were, in fact, sure they couldn’t.

You felt a flutter in the pit of your stomach when his hand slid under your tank top, moving to grasp your bare waist. Suddenly, it was much too warm to be wearing Stiles’ flannel. With a shrug of your shoulders, the flannel slid off your arms and you discarded it carelessly to the side. It wouldn’t be missed much, given the circumstances. Pulling back from the kiss to catch your breath, you panted heavily as you made eye contact with Stiles. His eyes were darkened with lust, his face flushed. He looked desperate.

With a deep breath, you grasped the hem of your tank top and slowly pulled it over your head, doing the same as you had with the flannel. This left you in your white lacy bra and black shorts; he had never seen this much of you before. You felt your cheeks flush as his eyes dropped to your chest, your cleavage fully on display. His lips parted, almost in awe, as he allowed his free hand to brush over your barely-clothed breast. Your breath hitched at the unfamiliar touch; you weren’t uncomfortable, you couldn’t be with Stiles. You were, however, nervous; this was uncharted territory for you, unexplored as of yet.

“Are you sure about this, sweetheart?” You met his gaze of sincerity, genuine concern etched into his features. You were surprising yourself in this situation, always thinking you would be the last of your friends to lose their virginity. You nodded slowly, exhaling the breath you hadn’t realized you had been holding.

“I want you.” He closed his eyes at your pleading words, seeming to swallow back a groan at the implications. You let out a gasp as he picked you up by your hips and flipped you around, now laying you on your back on his bed. Well, it seemed he would be wasting no time.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby.” Shit. You hadn’t heard this tone before, so deep and husky with desire. His lips pressed sloppy kisses along your neck, slowly inching down to your collarbone. It was here he decided to leave a mark, a sign that you were his.

“S-Stiles.” You breathed out, the hint of a moan in the back of your throat. Your mind had become foggy, a haze thinly veiled over your thoughts so that you couldn’t quite reach a coherent one. You had never felt so strongly about something in your life; you needed him, desperately. When you felt his hands move to the waistband of your shorts, a jolt of desire shot straight to your core.

“Can I take these off?” The request was gentle, quiet, especially when coupled with that adorable mix of concern and lust playing on Stiles’ features. A tightened feeling appeared in your chest; suddenly everything felt like it was moving so fast. But you wanted this, you really did. After all, how could you not?

You merely nodded, not feeling the need to expend energy stringing together a sentence.

“I need words, beautiful.” He repeated his request, clearly in want of a verbal response. You swallowed hard, choking out the ‘yes’ he was looking for. A smirk spread across his face at your agreement, and his fingers moved to slide your shorts down your legs. He did it slowly, teasingly, almost as if he was waiting for you to protest. Perhaps he couldn’t really believe this was happening, like he was expecting to wake up any moment and find out it was all a dream.

You inhaled sharply when he tossed your shorts to the side. He was staring at you in pure amazement, his eyes hungrily raking over your half-exposed form.

“You’re fucking gorgeous, baby.” He breathed, huffing in disbelief. “I swear to God, you’re a fucking angel.” You smiled at his words, your cheeks flushing an even darker shade as you avoided his gaze in flattered embarrassment. You never thought of yourself as looking particularly special, so this was certainly a new feeling. His hand came to grasp your chin, turning your head to face him again.

“Don’t hide that pretty face, sweetheart.” He smiled before leaning down and capturing your lips in a kiss. This one was slow, languid, romantic. It was pure bliss. You let your hands fall to the button of his jeans, hovering over it in hesitation. You wanted this, you were sure you did, but for some reason you still felt like you had to convince yourself.

Within a moment you had rid yourself of doubt with a quick glance into his eyes darkened by desire; that was all it took. Nimbly pulling the zipper down and tugging the pants off his legs, you felt the vibration of his groan against your lips. His hands gripped your sides like he was afraid you would disappear, reckless abandon consuming him as he continued to kiss you. You felt his hand slowly migrate upwards towards the clasp of your bra, sparking a thousand butterflies to life in your stomach. Unwittingly, your hand flies up to capture his wrist, momentarily delaying his intended action.

“What’s wrong, baby? Do you want me to stop?” Taking a deep breath, you composed yourself; you could do this, you wanted to, after all. It was all just so new, yet so exciting. You shook your head no, meeting his concerned gaze. He opened his mouth to speak again, but you interrupted him before he could. You knew what he was planning to say. “I want this, Stiles. I want you.” You promised yourself you wouldn’t stop him anymore, the ache between your thighs nearing a burning level. Stiles resumed his work on your bra clasp, expertly flicking it open and tossing your bra to the side where it joined the rest of the discarded garments.

“Fuck, baby. So fucking pretty.” You let out a gasp as he pressed kisses all over your breasts, not quite grazing your pert nipples just yet. They pebbled from contact with the cold air, along with pure and complete arousal. It was then that Stiles turned his attention to the rosy peaks of your breasts, his tongue darting out to tease you gently.

“Stiles,” You whined, “Don’t tease.” You were squirming underneath him, your hands wandering the bed beneath you in search of something to grasp onto. He let out a soft chuckle at your insistence, finding it absolutely adorable.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m gonna take care of you.” Your mind became cloudy as Stiles practically worshipped your body, his lips ghosting over every inch of skin, his fingertips grazing along just after. He was almost reverent in his actions, taking his time with you. He wanted this to be special for you, he wanted you to remember it forever. This wouldn’t be one of those memories that faded into the background as others took its place; no, rather, it would claim a special place in your heart and remain there no matter what. Yes, he thought to himself, that’s how he wanted this to go.

It wasn’t until you felt his fingers graze over your clothed clit that you snapped back into reality, your eyes flying open at the foreign sensation. A high pitched whimper escaped from your lips as Stiles teasingly rubbed your covered folds, his pace torturous and heavenly at the same time. You were sending him out of his mind at how blissed out you already were. He had barely even touched you, he thought, and yet here you were writhing beneath him. He was enjoying every fucking moment of it.

“That feel good, baby?” He cooed, the deep rasp in his tone sparking another wave of wet heat to pool between your thighs. Your brain was just now processing how wet you actually were, and it was quite shameful, in your eyes. Stiles, on the other hand, found it to be fucking perfection. You had already almost soaked through your panties, your slick now sticking to Stiles’ fingers. When his eyes glanced down to where he was touching you, they nearly popped out of their sockets. Those flimsy white panties of yours might as well have not even existed with how see-through they were, your arousal completely ruining them. He muttered a string of curses under his breath as a jolt shot through him, his dick twitching at the sight.

“Can I take these off too, sweet girl?” He had become impatient all of a sudden, his words flooding out in a rushed cadence as his fingers prematurely hooked under the lace of your panties. Staying true to your original promise, you merely nodded in agreement, flusteredly choking out a ‘yes’ when you remembered what a stickler he was for words. You sucked in a sharp breath as your panties joined the pile of clothes on the floor, realizing how exposed you were before him.

“Holy shit, baby, you’re so fucking perfect.” Your breath left your mouth in short huffs, your heart rate practically through the roof. He let his hands trail from your hips, down your plush thighs, eventually gripping them gently.

“Is this okay?” He looked up at you with need flooding his eyes, clearly using every ounce of self restraint not to destroy you then and there (yet part of you wished he would). You nodded quickly, feeling no need to play coy at this point. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, his hold on your thighs tightening. He began to gently push your thighs apart as he opened his eyes again, his lips falling open at the sight of your dripping cunt flooding onto the sheets (well, those would now be unusable).

“Look at this pretty fucking pussy.” His voice was low, the sensation of his warm breath against your sloppy folds making your head spin as he leant down close.

“Stiles.” He nearly lost his damn head at your small whimper, the sound meek and fucking delicious. The sound only repeated as he leant down closer, his lips mere centimeters from where you needed him the most. You squirmed beneath his intensity, feeling more arousal drip onto the bed. You were making quite the mess, but Stiles didn’t seem to notice. If he did, he didn’t give a shit. His gaze met yours once more, and you noticed his lips part like he was about to speak. You already knew what he was going to say, so you replied before he had to.

“Yes.” God, in that moment he thought he’d never heard a more beautiful word in his life. In that moment, all semblance of restraint vanished, and the considerate expression on his face morphed into something much more animalistic, feral. In that moment, all he could see was you.

Before you could process what was happening, Stiles had flattened his tongue to lick a slow, lewd stripe along your core, ending at your clit with a soft kiss. You had never felt anything like it in your life, and you were somehow coherent enough to be surprised that the only noise it drew out of you was a sharp gasp. With your head pressed back into the mattress and your hands tightly gripping the sheets, you forced your thighs open as Stiles continued to lick softly at your pussy. You whined disappointedly when you felt the absence of his touch against you, lifting your head to realize he was smiling at you. One of his perfectly veiny hands reached up to softly grasp your wrist, guiding your hand to the back of his head.

“Hold onto me, baby.” He whispered. “I’ve got you.” Threading your fingers through his soft hair, you laid back against the bed and not-so-patiently awaited him to continue. When he leant down this time, after placing a gentle kiss to your clit, he began to softly suck at the swollen bud, sparking fireworks in your head. You had never thought it was possible to feel this way; it’s not like you’d never experimented on your own before, but your shower head was no match for this man and his tongue. You couldn’t help but allow your mind to wander to imaginings of what his cock would feel like, but you were soon snapped away from those thoughts at one of his fingers teasing your entrance. You immediately tensed up, not because you didn’t want this, but because you were scared. Everyone always made a big deal of the pain, and you didn’t want to feel like that right now. You didn’t want to ruin the perfect fantasy.

“Hey, sweetheart, look at me.” Stiles prodded gently. You lifted your head for a second time to look down at him. “It’s gonna feel a little tight, but it’s not going to hurt you right now.” Right now you thought? You didn’t want it to hurt at all. He chuckled softly at the expression on your face, sitting up on his forearms to look at you better. “I have to get you ready for me, baby.” Jesus Christ; those words coupled with the smug expression on his face nearly ruined you, and all doubt had immediately flown out the metaphorical window. Rather comically, you quickly laid flat on the bed again, parting your legs wider (if that was even possible), readying yourself for him. You heard him attempt to hold back a chuckle at your adorable impatience, but it didn’t phase you. Your head had been clouded by desire, and nothing else mattered.

Your mouth fell open as he sucked on your clit again, more roughly this time. It was fucking heavenly, almost overwhelming. That feeling, however, was absolutely nothing compared to when he began to push his finger into your tight cunt. Everything was heightened, doubled, earning a choked whimper from your lips as he pushed past the first ring of resistance with ease. It shouldn’t have been too hard, after all, with how absolutely soaked you were. You didn’t even register the string of curses that flowed from your mouth as he thrusted all the way in, prodding at your g-spot teasingly. After making sure you weren’t feeling any pain, Stiles began to pump his finger in and out at a torturous pace, simultaneously wrecking your clit with his perfect lips.

You hadn’t realized you were moaning until Stiles groaned against you, the vibrations akin to shockwaves shooting through your body. It seemed this was just as pleasurable for him as it was for you, somehow.

“You taste so damn good, baby. Fuckin’ perfect f’me.” The words were muffled with him refusing to pull his lips from you, but the effect they had on you was the same. Your hand in his hair tightened and you whined as he pushed another finger in, now growing impatient himself. The lewd, wet sounds bounced off the walls, heightening what you were feeling even more. With each pump of his fingers, Stiles pressed into that spongy button deep inside you, making your eyes roll to the back of your head as he continued his work on your clit. You soon felt a sensation in the pit of your stomach, like a knot that grew larger with each move he made.

“Stiles, m’gonna-” “I know, baby, I’ve got you. Let me hear you.” Your moans grew louder with the curl of your toes as the feeling became overwhelming. Stiles’ groan at the sound of you quickly pushed you over the edge, and your orgasm crashed through you like nothing you’d felt before. Your second hand somehow joined the first in his hair as you arched off the bed, knees bent and toes curled as Stiles fingered you through your high. When you thought you finally came back to reality, you lifted your head slightly to look at Stiles. He was looking up at you with a smile on his face, his lips drenched in your juices. You thought you’d never seen anything more beautiful. He gently resumed his previous position over you, supporting himself with his forearms on either side of you.

“You did so good, sweetheart. So pretty comin’ for me.” You felt a jolt of desire shoot through you again as Stiles made a show of cleaning his fingers, sucking them off with a low groan sounding from his chest. “Taste so fuckin’ good, too.” He rasped as his lips attached to your neck, planting wet spots and love bites as he moved along your soft skin. Your hands remained tangled in his hair, your legs intertwined together.

“Sti?” You asked softly, breathlessly.

“What is it, gorgeous?” He mumbled, his lips now edging down to your collarbone. You were feeling sheepish, meek, for even asking. The pleasure he had just given you had been mind-blowing, but already you found yourself wanting more. The aching throb of your pussy hadn’t dissipated; if anything, your desire for Stiles had only grown since the beginning. It was an all-consuming thought, clouding your rational judgement that urged you to give yourself a moment to rest. No, rest was the last thing on your mind. You wanted him inside of you. Now.

You cupped the sides of his face with your hands, peppering needy kisses along his radiant skin. Entangling your limbs with his, you trapped one of his legs with yours and pulled him closer.

“Need you, please.” Fuck. Your beautiful, melodic voice coupled with that soft but desperate plea nearly sent him tumbling over the edge then and there. How could he possibly deny you, laying bare beneath him, waiting so readily for him to give you all he had? Pulling himself out of his lustful daze long enough to respond to you, a smile spread across his wet lips.

“As you wish.” Stiles wrenched himself away from you long enough to impatiently tug off his boxers, your eyes nearly popping out of your skull at the sight of him. The smack of his painful erection against his stomach bounced off the walls, seeping into your ears like music. His tip was angry and red, a bead of pre-cum already threatening to spill over. Shit, you thought, how had he contained himself? He bit back a smirk at your wanton expression, settling between your legs once more as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. You could still taste remnants of yourself on his tongue, drawing a tiny moan out of you that was drowned out into the kiss.

“This is going to hurt, baby, but I need you to relax for me.” You closed your eyes with a sigh, willing the tension out of your body. You gently swiped your thumb over Stiles’ bottom lip as you met his gaze again, nodding in silent permission. With a shaky exhale of his own, Stiles lined himself up with your leaking entrance, intertwining his fingers with yours as he pinned your hands beside your head.

The moment he began to push into you he captured your lips in a bruising kiss, almost in an effort to distract you, or maybe even swallow the sound of your pained whimpers as he stretched your poor cunt around his pulsing cock. You tried to focus on the feel of his tongue exploring your mouth rather than his dick splitting you in two, but the pain consumed your mind enough to draw a tear from the corner of your eye. He shushed you sweetly, understandingly, pausing to let you adjust.

“I’m sorry, baby, I know, I’m so sorry.” He peppered kisses over your forehead and cheek, almost apologizing for the pain. When the feeling became bearable, you nodded, letting him know he could move. Your breath caught in your throat as he pushed further in, his hoarse voice letting you know he was over halfway now. Just when you thought he couldn’t possibly fit anymore, he squeezed the last inch of himself into you, letting out a strangled groan as he let himself experience your gummy walls squeezing the life out of him. You gasped out the breath you were holding, your head pressed back into the pillow as your breath escaped you in huffs. After maybe a minute of sitting torturously still, you could tell Stiles needed to move, and you needed it too. The pain had dissipated, replaced now by a desperate desire for him to pound into you relentlessly. You didn’t even know what it would feel like, but you were sure you wouldn’t regret it.

“Sti, I need you t-” Your request was interrupted by your own moan as Stiles exhaled sharply, finally beginning to pull out of you. He didn’t waste a minute, telling you how much he needed this too. He had probably been counting the fucking seconds waiting for you to get it together. His pace to begin with was slow and punishing, as he clearly was still attempting to be gentle with you. At this point, you were past caring about him splitting you in fucking two, now almost yearning for it.

“F-faster, please.” As if you would need to ask twice; his pace immediately picked up, pulling deep moans from your lips as the pleasure registered in your brain. A groan rumbled from deep in his chest as he obliged, the sound of your desperate whimpers sending his head into a fervent spiral of lust. With each thrust he expertly pounded your g-spot, leaving your mouth hanging open as a chorus of gasps and moans echoed off the walls. He laid his forehead against yours as he increased his pace more still, his breath ragged and shallow as he bit back moans of his own (for no reason if not to hear you better). Neither of you realized how hard you were squeezing his hands, which remained intertwined with yours beside your head.

There was a moment when time seemed to slow, where all you could hear was Stiles’ heartbeat, and the sensation of his breath against you was amplified exponentially. You felt high as a kite, any point of physical contact akin to a fucking miracle. You sensed a knot beginning to grow in your stomach, snapping you back to reality as the lecherous sounds of skin-on-skin crowded the room. Stiles let out a moan as your soaking walls contracted around him, the sound low and husky.

“That’s it, baby. Squeeze the fuckin’ life out of me.” He punctuated each word with a thrust, each seeming harder than the last. You couldn’t even choke out a single syllable, your breath almost permanently caught in your throat as he pistoned into you with incredible force. Stiles could clearly sense your impending orgasm, shifting his grip on you so that one hand held yours as his other traveled down between you. With a loud moan from you, his fingers found your clit, circling tight movements around the swollen bud in an attempt to push you over the edge. The abhorrent squelching sounds of his cock spearing into your drenched cunt brought you impossibly closer to that high you so desperately needed.

“Sti-”

“I know, baby, I know. Fuckin’ come for me; let me see how pretty you are when you come all over my cock.” You whimpered a string of please’s, even knowing Stiles already had you dangling over the edge. The knot in your stomach had grown into a fucking boulder, the pleasure overwhelming as you arched off the bed, straining against Stiles’ grip in your wrists. And just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, you cried out Stiles’ name, your toes curling salaciously as your entire body was overcome with feeling. You couldn’t even call it an orgasm, no, it was so much more meaningful than that. Mind blowing though it was, that peak also held every bit of love you had for Stiles, every ounce.

You barely registered when Stiles pulled out and released onto your stomach, your brain completely hazed from the heaven you had just experienced. Stiles collapsed beside you with heaving breaths, immediately pulling your sweat-glazed body against his own.

“God, baby, you were fuckin’ perfect. Feel so damn good f’me.” His voice was hoarse, the raspiness sending tingles down your spine. You swung your leg over his hip, obviously not satisfied with your previous level of closeness. Cupping his face with your hands, you smiled up at him softly, letting your thumbs trace soothing circles into his cheeks.

“I love you, Sti.” Those words had never meant more than when you said them now, and he could see it in your eyes. With a return of the same expression, Stiles brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his touch lingering.

“I love you more.” Pressing a kiss to your forehead, Stiles let you nuzzle your face into his glistening chest. Absolutely wrecked, you soon drifted off to sleep, and when Stiles felt your body relax in his embrace, he spoke once more before giving himself over to exhaustion.

“And I always will.”

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinksi smut #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #first time #smut #teen wolf #teen wolf smut #boyfriend!stiles #virgin!reader #fem!reader

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bubbly-parker · 5 months ago

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Isaac Request

Requested? Yes

Isaac Lahey x witch afab Reader

I didn't know if you wanted pure fluff of smut too so this is pure fluff I think I will add a second Chapter with smut, tonight or tomorrow. If anyone has any ideas what to add please drop them in my inbox <3333

Prompts:

4. "I'm staying. Stop fighting me.”

9. "let me take care of you

The reader thinks Isaac doesn't like her, but he's just awful at showing his feelings.

Since the reader doesn't have healing abilities like the rest of them Isaac never wants them to come with them because it stresses him out too much, he feels the need to protect her and he can’t fight and keep an eye on her at the same time

The reader thinks Isaac sees her as a burden but he is in loooooooove

Challenge: take a shot everytime i wrote Isaac.

Spoiler:

“Don't even start again. Just let me help without complaining for once.”

A small “why” was all you could muster in return, too tired to start a whole argument. “What do you mean, why? To make sure you're fine, obviously."

“In case you haven't noticed, but it's always me looking after you.”

You woke up on your living room couch, halfway slumped over the side, with a pounding head and blurry vision. You couldn't remember getting home; all you remembered was a pretty bad fight.

I should have just stayed out of there.

But of course, you could never stay out of other people's business. No one in Beacon Hill could. Supernatural was drawn to supernatural.

When you changed schools, you didn't expect your parents to drop you off, and ending up immediately running into a WHOLE PACK of werewolves. You kept your head down and walked right past them as if they didn't exist.

You are a witch, so you smell like an average human to them, but they can’t fool you being born a witch. Your third eye has always been open, and they can’t hide their true forms from you.

One day during lunch, you overheard some of their troubles—of course, you weren't eavesdropping...

you'd never..

From what you gathered, they needed a rare plant that happened to grow in your witch mother’s garden.

You've only been here for a few weeks but befriended Allison and Lydia quickly, so you understood the pack was keeping the town safe and are no danger, of course, they didn't know that you had already seen through them, but you felt the need to help them regardless.

You heard them talking about meeting up after school, so you dropped a tracking stone in Lydia's bag during class when she wasn't looking so you could find her later. In hindsight, you should have maybe just approached them instead of using Lydia to stalk them, but you aren't exactly the most extroverted, so they would have to deal, you thought.

Later that day, you went home and plucked the flower from your mom’s garden while she was still out. Back in your room, you placed the second tracking stone on your map, and it moved exactly to where Lydia was at that moment.

Back then, on that day, you should have learned to mind your business, but whatever

You got out of your car in the middle of the woods, a map and a mason jar with your flower in your hand, looking for Lydia when you heard screaming.

A fight was happening in the middle of the woods, and you ran right into it.

“The fuck are you doing here?” You turned around to see a rather angry Isaac right behind you, unsure whether he had turned since you pretty much always saw through their facade. You could feel the anger rolling off of him. Taking a step back as he took on forward, you pushed your hand out, shoving the jar under his nose while avoiding his eyes. You said nothing.

Isaac accused you of spying on them and trying to sabotage them, but thankfully Stiles stumbled towards you guys, perplexed by your appearance but thankful either way he took the flower and did god knows what with it.

Ever since that you involuntary became a part of the pack. You told them how you knew from the first time you set foot in the school, but Isaac didn't trust you and kept his distance. Now, a year later, close to graduation, you still end up coming to the rescue every single time together with Stiles. You're keeping the boat from sinking, really.

And that's why you found yourself in your current position. You came to the rescue again. Some sicko alpha was rampaging through the woods, and while you were laying a trail of mountain ash, he attacked you from behind, scratching open your side and throwing you through the night sky, lovely.

You didn't register any pain at first, but now that you're coming to be, your entire side is burning, and your head is pounding even stronger.

You don't know who got you home, but you could hear water running in your guest bath down the hall, so with a shaky breath, you pushed yourself up to make your way over to the bathroom, but your vision got blurry, and you had to lean on the armrest.

“What are you doing? Sit back down.” Isaac came rushing towards you and helped you sit back down. You didn't know who to expect, but it wasn't Isaac.

Over the last year, Isaac had warmed up to you a little—not that you could tell, but that's what the others kept saying.

To you, Isaac still seemed closed off, but you wrote it off as it being his personality.

He didn't want you to come today. He protested profusely at lunch, saying that there was nothing you could help with anyway and that you were just putting yourself in danger. You knew that you probably should have sat this one out, but Stiles was feeling under the weather, and you didn't like that Isaac made you feel like a child.”

“I can take care of myself. I'm not a child,” you told Isaac, who acted like you would just be a burden. You feared he might have been right.

Now that he was in your home, treating you like a child again made you angry. One day, he was nice to you—distant but still somewhat nice—giving you class notes when you were sick even though you were sure he never took notes. He shrugged it off like it was no big deal, and then he acted like a first-class jerk again.

To be real, his cold-shoulder, mysterious attitude had you crushing a little at first, but when you realized that he only cold-shouldered you and Stiles, it just felt like he was excluding you.

While you could be more of a help to your friends if you would be focusing on spell crafting like your mom instead of potion making, it comes in handy in times like this where your healing salves would aid your healing process, not having the natural advanced healing of a werewolf.

You take a staggered breath in, grind your teeth together, and got moving.

“You’re shitting me right now; you shouldn't move in this condition.”

Ignoring Isaac, you moved towards your hallway, one hand on the wall stabilizing you.

“I mean it, Isaac, just leave. I brought this onto myself anyway."

But instead of Isaac leaving, you could hear him move towards you.

You went to turn around. “ Wh-

Before you could even start, Isaac picked you up.

Paralyzed from the shock of what was happening, you just gasped up at Isaac like a fish as he carried you to your bedroom. He placed you down on your bed, and without looking at you, he immediately turned away. Your eyes followed his figure as he moved towards the other side of your room, where you kept your potion cabinet.

“Which one is that healing stuff you gave Allison last time?” You just looked at Isaac, not quite understanding why he was still here.

“the purple container that says Clinique” (reduce, reuse, recycle old containers)

Isaac moved back over to the bed. You sat up and took the salve from him.

You waited for him to leave so you could lift your shirt and apply the salve but Isaac sat down next to you.

“I'll help you." Isaac moved closer and tried to lift the side of your shirt, but you flinched back—wrong idea. A stabbing pain ran up your side and temporarily made your vision go black.

One part of your brain enjoyed the idea of taking your whole shirt off in front of Isaac—maybe that small part that still had a crush on him—but the other side didn't even want to slightly lift it.

“I can do it, Isaac; seriously, I'm not getting naked in front of you,” you glared at Isaac the best you could. "You don't need to be here.”

In reality, you didn't look mean at all, the pain too clear in your expression, and your wound far too concerning in Isaac's eyes. “You’re not getting naked; I just need to rub this on, and in case you haven't noticed, you're not even wearing your own shirt, so I won't see anything I haven’t already.”

You looked down at your own body and noticed he's right; the shirt you left the house in is long gone; instead, your blood is soaking into the shirt Isaac wore earlier under his jacket.

While you were distracted, Isaac quickly applied the slave to one hand and went under your shirt. As he went to apply it, you still tried to wriggle out of his hold; you don't know why you did it. You could tell that Isaac, for whatever reason, just wanted to help you.

Nice Isaac was complicated. It made the irrational side of your brain fuzzy, and maybe one small butterfly woke up in your stomach. "I'm staying. Stop fighting me and let me help you, goddamit.”

Isaac’s grip tightened around your waist. You couldn't go anywhere. As he rubbed the salve around your wound, he decided not to lift your shirt and just moved his hand under it.

You titled your head to look at Isaac; his eyes moved from your middle to your face. “Is this okay?” he asked while looking into your eyes.

You nodded your head, not sure what to say. This side of Isaac was weird; technically, you should be happy. This caring side is what you dreamed about months ago when you started crushing on the mysterious wolf, but he made it so incredibly hard on you by always treating you like a little kid.

When Isaac was done, he got up off the bed, washed his hands, and put the salve back where it belonged.

You dropped back on your bed, facing the ceiling, energy fading. You couldn't even move up the bed, legs still dangling off.

Isaac came back to your side and kneeled. He started taking your boots off; you felt too exhausted to even lift your feet to help him.

You groaned, thinking about how Isaac would use this against you for all eternity to prove that you are nothing but a danger to yourself.

“Don't even start again. Just let me help without complaining for once.”

Okay, that wasn't what you expected.

A small “why” was all you could muster in return, too tired to start a whole argument.

“What do you mean, why? To make sure you're fine, obviously."

You didn't really understand what Isaac was on about.

“In case you haven't noticed, but it's always me looking after you.”

You tried to make sense of his words when a conversation you had with Lydia came back to mind; you brushed it off, but Lydia had said something about Isaac always being way too close to you, not in a literal way, but if you were walking in a group, he was next to you walking on the side next to the road, and if you split up in groups, Isaac was always with you, and now today.

wait

“How did you find me? You were supposed to be at the other end of the woods?” You asked Isaac, who gave no reply. He was supposed to be with Allison as backup and setting up traps.

Isaac had put your shoes next to your wardrobe and came back to the side of your bed to help you move fully onto the bed.

“Isaac?”

“I was going to go in position once you were inside the Mountain Ash Circle... But then he came out of nowhere. I was too focused on you to notice him. I'm sorry.” Now you knew Isaac wasn't a man of many words, but you realized that Lydia might have been a little right; Isaac was always watching you.

A blush crept up on your cheeks, but you couldn't quite believe the conclusion you were drawing here.

“Oh,”

Isaac looked down at you lying on your back. "I’m bad at this talking thing, okay?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact now.

“it’s okay” You patted the space beside you on the bed and signaled Isaac to sit or lay down. You realized it must have been pretty late, or early? You looked at your alarm clock 2:43 am; well, not too bad.

You felt the bed dip beside you as Isaac laid down on his side next to you, somehow facing you but still avoiding looking at you, fascinating.

“Thank you, Isaac." Your eyes met, and the usually confident Isaac suddenly looked everything but that.

He brushed a strand of hair out of your face with his hand. “Just let me take care of you from now on, okay?” he asked.

Okay, more than one butterfly woke up again. You nodded your head and tried to scoot closer to Isaac; instead, he wrapped his arms around you and did the work for you by pulling you in. “Will you stay?” you said as Isaac moved to sit up. “Of course, but you should change your shirt; it’s bloody.”

“You mean I should change youuur shirt?” you purred. You smiled at Isaac and pointed to your chair, where your PJs were lying. He reached over and gave you your shirt.

“Can you help me get this off?” You sat up; your side was healing. You could feel the wound closing up faster than humanly possible, but it still ached.

Isaac helped you lift your arms as little as possible as he lifted your shirt above your head.

Shivers ran down your spine, but you didn't feel uncomfortable. He helped you put your clean shirt back on and moved you to lie down with him, setting the blanket over you two.

You laid together in silence, your back pressed to Isaac’s chest; you could feel his breath on top of your head; you should sleep, but your emotions were running wild, and you didn't want this moment, these feelings, to end.

As if he could read your thoughts, Isaac said, “I’ll still be here in the morning. You can sleep.”

He kissed the top of your head, and you drifted off to sleep. Today's events were a little too much.

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