if you gotta leave tonight (can you take me with you)
talking stage!Wilbur x reader
note: you can consider this a part 2 of perfect blue because it starts a good week after their second date, so you could consider this a “continuation”! Enjoy!
-
“And oh! My mom wants to meet you sometime soon…. I might’ve ran my mouth a bit too much to her.” You grimaced, making the brunette laugh as the expression, yet something was wrong. His laugh didn’t have that spark to it like it usually had, it was just a- normal laugh. Almost bitter.
You frowned a bit at the thought but decided to shrug it off, deciding to forget about it for now. You were having fun, why ruin it because you thought his laugh sounded weird?
You were sitting down in a booth at a local diner that you begged Wilbur to go to, getting some push back from the man at first but it ended up with you in the back corner of the building. You knew the owners and they were the sweetest people alive, plus their cooking was phenomenal.
“So what are your plans for next week? Filming another video or doing stupid shit?” You asked him, visibly watching his expression grow weary as he took another gulp at his black coffee. “Wil, are you all right, what’s going on?”
“I- um…”
“Here’s your food darlings. Enjoy!” Mary, the wife of the owner came over and set the food down in front of both of, winking at you as she paced back over to her husband in the kitchen, not trying very hard to hide their prying eyes.
You sent them a small smile, full of gratitude for them both, but it quickly faded away as you soon turned back around towards the man in front of you, eyes full of worry and something that looked like sorrow. Sadness. Longing. It all mingled together.
You decided to stay quiet, bringing up different topics and situations you didn’t get to tell him about, trying to fill the emptiness that seemed to be growing every second between you two. Wilbur made comments here and there, some making fun of you and some genuinely curious.
You also made him laugh a few times, the same bitter-some laugh that made your stomach churn in worry, yet you didn’t let him see that. Your smile never faded and your eyes never fell, the same passion and genuine want to be there with him stayed.
After dinner you had proposed the idea of going back to yours, having bought sugar cookies from the store earlier and wanting to watch a movie with the brunette. Yet the man deflected. Saying he had to get some work done and how he’d been putting it off.
“Oh… well could I just come to yours? I won’t bother you, I’ll let you work! I just want to be with you.” You asked, the question obviously throwing him off guard as his eyes widened. He looked nervous that you even asked that question, like he hadn’t thought of an excuse for you if you had asked it. Almost like he didn’t want you to ask it.
“Um… yeah! Yeah, you can come over. You might be able to help me anyways, who knows!” Wilbur laughed awkwardly, shoulder shrugging as you gave a small smile back to him, confusion written in your eyes as you looked at him.
Wilbur shook his head at you as he extending his hand towards you, in which you gladly took in your own, his calloused hands feeling like home as you fell into step with each other.
As you walked together, you could tell Wilbur was getting antsy, his other hand going between tapping on his leg or in his front pocket. He kept biting his lip, eyes searching back and forth for something to look at, anything to distract him. You were starting to worry, more than you had been previously.
You squeezed his hand before he finally let it go, searching for his keys in his jacket, fumbling them around in his hand, stalling the best he could.
“Wilbur, are you ok? What’s going on?” You asked, hand reaching out to him as you placed it on his arm. The man said nothing as he continued to fumble with the door, key finally making its way into the lock and being twisted, yet the movements were slow. Something was wrong.
“Wilbur you need to talk to me, why are you being so distant and w-“ your words fell off as the man turned the knob, pushing the door wide open for you to see into his apartment.
Bags and a large suitcase stood neatly in the hallway, almost bursting at the seams of clothes and random items he had collected over the days he’s been here.
You slowly stepped into the small space, walking towards the items that taunted you softly. You lifted your eyes from the overfilled luggage to take in his space. Everything was the same besides a few small trinkets being gone or misplaced.
You took a deep breath, slowly realizing what was happening, not wanting to fully believe it quite yet. Tears filled your waterline as you looked back down to the bags, hands shaking as you rubbed them on your pants, desperately pushing down the urge to burst out in tears and scream.
You heard Wilbur exhale loudly, a sigh he’s been holding in for the whole day finally releasing as he closed the door, locking it once more. He placed his keys in the bowl you had gotten him, hating how he always some how forgot where his keys were in the apartment, wanting to make his life easier. He slowly stepped towards you, scared of what you’d do next, if anything.
“Love, please let me-“
“When are you leaving?” Your voice sounded quiet, strained, throat aching at the burning sensation in the back of it. You swallowed harshly, pushing down even more hurt than you thought as your vision blurred.
“Sunday. I have to be back in Brighton by Monday.” Wilbur said, words monotoned as he looked at his shoes, hands stuffed in his pockets as he tried his hardest not to look at you. He knew if he did he would break, and he couldn’t do that. Not now, not when he needed to explain himself.
“Two days? Were you even going to tell me?!” Your voice broke in sadness, turning towards him as tears fell over your face. Wilbur’s heart and mind fought over what was right to do, agony churning in his gut as his own tears filled his vision, biting his lip as he shook his head. He desperately tried to shake off this feeling, this feeling that he knew he fucked up but didn’t want to hurt you with what was happening. He thought he was protecting you from this, turns out he was dead wrong.
“I was going to. I was going to tonight after I walked you home.” His words were short, voice tense as he took his glasses off, and rubbed his face with his hands. His palms dug into his eyes, trying to rub the tears away so he could face you. Yet nothing was working.
He had never felt this way about anyone. Never felt this gut feeling that you were the person he wanted to be with for the rest of his days. Never felt the pit in his stomach anytime you left his side, scared you’d wonder off far from him and he wouldn’t be able to get you back. Never in his life did he think he’d fall this hard for someone again, or at all. But he’s knee deep into his own mess and there’s only one way out.
“So you were only going to give me two days to deal with this? To spend time with you until you leave and I won’t see you for- god I don’t even know how long you’re leaving for!” You were practically yelling at the man at this point, your emotions fueling your words before you could catch them and think for a few seconds.
You knew this was going to happen one day, you just didn’t think it’d happen this fast. This soon after you just got comfortable being around him. It hurt, that he was leaving. But it hurt more that he didn’t feel like he could tell you sooner than he was going to.
“Look- I’m sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t know how to bring it up and I didn’t want you to get upset with me for leaving.” His words sent a shock through your system. Why would you be upset with him? If he needed to do something, he could’ve told you, right?
You looked back towards the man, his eyes blown wide in fear and confusion, eyes moving back and forth to focus on anything, not wanting to catch your eyes and see your expression. You frowned at his state, body practically shaking as his hands were held into fist by his side, tears rolling down his face slowly, yet he didn’t try to stop them this time.
You slowly took steps toward the man, hands slowly raising as you approached him, silently connecting with the warmth of his cheek, collecting all of the tears that slowly leaked out of his eye. Wilbur shut his eyes, not letting himself lean into your touch quite yet, but his body loosened and his fist uncurled. His lip quivered as his breathing turned heavy, chest heaving up and down and you held him.
“Wil-“
“I didn’t want you to leave me.” His words made you go quiet. The sentence came out fast as sobs slowly followed after, the man’s shaky body crumbling second by second as you moved closer to him. You placed your other hand on his arm, holding it tightly to ground him the best you could, yet it clearly wasn’t doing much.
“Please don’t leave me.”
His body fell against yours, your arms wrapping around him as your back hit the wall, sliding down the paint as his weight dragged you down, yet you could care less. His arms wrapped around your waist as he sobbed into your chest, curling into you as he squeezed you tight, like if he didn’t you would disappear.
Your arms held him just as tightly, lips meeting his hair line as your hand ran through his hair, cooing at him. You didn’t know how to react, his words caught you off guard in the moment, only caring about him and making sure he was ok.
Why would he think you would leave him? Did he think you’d be mad? He knows you would never leave him right? That you’d never be more than frustrated with him… right?!
His sobs continued to rack through his body as your mind continued to race with questions, curious to ask so many things yet you didn’t want to overstep.
Did this have to do with…?
The question popped into the forefront of your mind as everything slowly started to make sense. Why he was being so weird and distant, why he was nervous to tell you. It all added up and continued to break your heart in two.
“Hey, listen to me. I am not leaving you, not for something this small. Am I upset you didn’t tell me sooner? Yes, but I can get over it. Wil- I never want you to think you can’t tell me things because I’ll leave. That was and never will be in the books for me.” You softly lifted the man’s head up, hand cupping his cheek once more as he looked into your eyes.
His were puffy and red, his deep brown eyes popping out even more than they already did, making you admire them even more. He slowly sat up, taking some weight off of you as he sniffed and rubbed his face against his sleeve, his sobs finally settling and his tears slowing. The reassurance did more than you would ever know, but he was sure it wasn’t the last time it’d be happening.
“Can’t get rid of me that easily.” You whispered out into the quiet space that stood still between the two of you, the words lifting the atmosphere as they lingered in the air. The brunette chuckled as he rest his forehead on yours, arms wrapping back around your waist as he pulled you back into him, your own wrapping around his neck.
Wilbur hid his face in your neck as you continued to run your hand through his hair, still collecting your thoughts and what to do next. What would happen between you two? Would you fall out, or would you make it work? God you really hoped it’d work out.
“I’ll only be gone for a bit. Less than 3 weeks at most. I just have to go back and record a few things, maybe film a bit and I’ll be back.” Wilbur reassured you, making sure you knew he’d be back for you.
“I know. I’m not worried about that, you have my number and we’ll be talking all day knowing us.” You softly sighed out, kissing the man’s hair line gently before resting your head on his. “I’ll be waiting right here for you when you get back. I’ll even make a big sign for you… ‘Welcome back to America!’” You both laughed at the ridiculousness the conversation had turned into, finding a comfortability in the moment.
Wilbur leaned up, away from the small space you had created with each other, and looked you in the eye, analyzing something that he found in your irises. You both stared at each other for a moment, a smile forming on both of your lips as you stayed in the moment.
“Thank you. Truly, for everything.” Wilbur whispered out to you, taking your hand in his as he lifted it up to his lip, planting a soft kiss on the back of it, the warmth filling your whole body.
A blush made its way on your face as you bit your lip, tilting your head down and away from the man’s gaze. He knew what he did to you, he had to, the sweet comments, the small gestures. All of it. It made you fall for him even more than you were.
“Of course. I’m here for you, always, and I’ll be right here no matter what. I kind of can’t leave, i unfortunately work here-“
“Ok! Dont start complaining now!”
“It’s not complaining if it’s true- the jobs here are top tier yes! But the management sucks.” You explained to the man, having had the same conversation numerous times. Wilbur laughed at your words as he pushed himself off of the floor, offering a hand for you to take. Pulling yourself up, you landed closer to the man than anticipated, nose touching his as you looked up at him
Smiling at the man once more, you placed a small kiss on his cheek, quick enough for it to be missed, but long enough for the feeling to linger. Wilbur’s cheeks quickly turned red at the interaction, smile widening as he watched you turn to the bags that stood loud and proud against the couch.
“Ok so first order of business is teaching you now to pack-“
“I know how to pack!”
“Then why do they look like they’ll burst at any moment?!”
When the guys told you their plan for this music video, you didn’t think it would be this detailed in every which way. Especially the costume…
“Oh my- get away from me.” You said to Wilbur as he appeared from the make up room, a laugh leaving your lips as he continued to stalk over to you with a big smile.
Wilbur didn’t want you to be in the makeup room with him, wanting you to have a “first look at the wonderful makeup”. And wonderful was one way to describe it. The dark orange foundation covered his face and neck, making his smile pop out more which you loved a lot actually, but with the way his eyes were wide, the look unsettled you. His hair was bundled up underneath a wig cap, making the look more uncomforting than anything.
“Why? Can I not get a kiss? I haven’t been with you in forever, my love.” Wil said, opening his arms to inevitably wrap around you, long legs chasing after you backstage as you quickly tried to walk away from him.
“Fuck no! You look scary Wil!” You laughed at the man as he started to pick up his pace, a squeak leaving you as you started to run, apologizing to everyone you passed, but they were all laughing as well.
As you were about to turn the corner, Wilbur took the advantage of you slowing down and wrapped his arms around your waist. A small yell left your lips as he lifted you up in his arms, rounding the corner and setting you down.
He lightly pushed you up against the wall, one hand placed on the wall, helping him stay up. His other hand came up and cupped your jaw, tilting your head up to look at him. Your eyes immediately found his, pupils blown out and wide as he smirked at you.
“Really thought you had a chance huh?” The brunette softly asked, thumb softly brushing against your cheek as he leaned in closer to you. You both had totally forgotten the root on why he was chasing you in the first place, only worried about filling the space between the two.
“Maybe, or maybe I wanted you to catch me.” You whispered against his lips as his smirk faltered a bit, something new replacing his playful attitude. Wilbur cupped the back of your head as he leaned in just enough for your lips to graze each other as he spoke.
“I’ll always catch you.” He whispered, lowering his head just enough to connect your lips with his, the kiss rougher than you thought it would be but you welcomed it with open arms.
Your hands trailed up his body, feeling his stomach tense as you lightly ran your hands over it onto his chest. Wilbur bit your lip as your hands ran back down his body, toying with the hem of his sweater, hands sneaking up inside of his crewneck.
Someone cleared their throat at the other end of the hallway, abruptly causing you and Wil to pull away from each other and snap your heads towards the sound.
At the end of the hallway stood Mark, Ash and Joe, all collectively laughing or shaking their heads at the couple. You slowly hid your head in Wilbur’s chest while the man started to stand up fully, putting distance between you and the wall.
“What did we say about doing this on set? We always lose you two!” Ash exclaimed as Mark and Joe continued to laugh, leaning on the other as Wilbur smirked at the trio.
“Ok, we’re sorry, it won’t happen again. Now what can I do for you lovely gentleman?” Wilbur asked as he took your hand on his and started to walk towards the men.
“Wardrobe needs you to change and get your wig on so we can get started on shooting-“
“Hey Joe, while he does that, wanna make out?!” Mark teased the couple as Joe went into a laughing fit once more, making you roll your eyes at the two.
“I’m going to get some more coffee, have fun my love.” You kissed his cheek, a smile making its way onto his face while you walked away. “And you two are coming with me-“ you told Mark and Joe, grabbing them by their jackets and bringing them along while Ash stayed with the brunette.
“I’d go fix yourself before you do anything, bud-“ Ash whispered to the man, winking at him as he turned to catch up with the group.
“Wha- Shit…”
He was hard.
-
It’s been a good hour or two since we’ve started filming, the light blue suit against the orange skin making you cringe every time you see Wilbur, and the jokes the boys were throwing around were keeping you sane.
“Ok! We’re almost done, I just need Wilbur for one more shot and then we’re done!” Every cheered at the announcement, happy to be going home soon and out of this cramped building.
“My love, I kind of need to get up, yeah?” Wilbur asked you as he lightly squeezed your waist, snapping you out of your daze. He had a couple moments of free time so you took it upon yourself to take up as much personal space as you could, not having been near him since earlier that day.
“Hmm but do you have to?” You asked, dragging out the last few words, nuzzling your face in his neck as you clung onto him.
“It’s only one more shot, darling. And then I’m all yours, promise.” Wilbur whispered to you as he slowly lifted you up with him, setting you down in the chair he was once in. He placed a small kiss on your cheek and walked over to the empty space which was now being illuminated by lights.
“Ok this part is all you, it’s sort of a filler to put in.” The director told Wil, nodded at the man as Wilbur smiled at the band, knowing exactly what he was going to do.
You slowly got up as you walked over towards the guys, standing behind the screen which was connected to the camera, showing everything the man was doing. As the music started playing, Wilbur slowly started to spin in a circle, arms spread wide as he spun around.
“What is he doing?!” You asked, bewildered at his action, yet the guys knew exactly what he was going to do.
“Bro, why is he kicking his legs up?!” Joe wheezed out as he and Mark fell into each other. Ash followed along side them, hands on his knees as he continued to watch the man in front of him.
He looked ridiculous. Painted orange in a hideously gorgeous blue suit with a terrible bob wig on, jumping and spinning in a circle with a smile a child would have. He was having so much fun, and it made you laugh with all of them. Not because it was funny, but because you enjoyed watching him. Enjoyed seeing him have fun without the worry of the world around him, just being him in front of everyone.
“Can you believe th- hey hey! Are you ok? What happened?” Ash asked from beside you, turning his body fully to you, blocking your view of the man on the screen. As you looked up at the long haired man in your view, you quickly realized how blurry your vision is.
Fuck were you crying?
Quickly rubbing your eyes rid of any more tears, you laughed as you pressed your head into your hands. Mark and Joe had now turned their attention to you, going to talk to you guys after the director yelled ‘cut’, stopping the music and the camera.
“what in the bloody hell happened? Why are they laughing like that?” Mark asked, looking at Ash with worried eyes, yet all he got back was a shrug.
“I’m sweating my ass off in this su- what did you do?” Wilbur immediately asked the guys surrounding you, not hearing your little giggles. He immediately went over to you, gently grabbing your wrist and asking what was wrong.
“Us?! We didn’t do anything? They just started tearing up and laughing…” Ash trailed off as you pulled your hands away from your face, tears gone from your eyes as you sniffled. You looked up to see the orange face you once despised in front of you, worry ridden all over his face, making you smile up at him.
“I’m just really happy, that’s all.” You spoke aloud, making sure all of them heard you, but mostly the man in front of you. The one that you had to make sure knew.
“Are you sure that’s it? Seriously… what did they do-“
“Are you seriously still on that?!” Joe snarked at Wilbur, earning a hand swat from Wilbur, eyes still trained on you.
“They did nothing, Wil. I promise. I just got emotional seeing you like that is all.” You explained to him, making him in sigh out in relief, a smile making its way up to his own face. He bent down and set his forehead on yours, closing his eyes as he rest his hands on your cheeks, pulling you into him. He pressed a soft kiss onto your lips, both of you smiling into the sweetness.
“Oh please don’t make out again-“ Mark groaned, eyes closed as he covered Ash and Joe’s as well. You laughed at the blonde, pulling away from the kiss, making Wilbur groan.
What’s up with these men being babies?
“Har har har! You can open your eyes, we’re not that stupid.”
“I beg to differ-“
“Yeah right!”
“You guys literally had sex on the tour bus.”
They all threw out comments one by one, making you turn to Wilbur, a bashful smile on his face as he looked back down to your disappointed look. “I told you they’d hear us!”
“Oh I knew they’d hear us… I just didn’t want you to worry-“
“William!”
-
“Can we go to bed now?” You mumbled as you jumped on the bed, face planting into the pillows.
Wilbur laughed at you, setting his bag down by the closet as he made his way over to you. Sitting on the edge on the bed, he splayed one hand over your head, gently rubbing as you sank further into the mattress.
“As much as I would love to sleep right now, I desperately need a shower. I can feel the makeup sinking into my skin-“ Wilbur said, disgust in his voice as he slowly got up, slipping his shoes off as he went.
“Mmm but I’m used to it nowww!” You pouted as you turned to him, your arm reaching for him as you stayed sprawled out on the comfy comforter.
The man shakes his head at you with a smile, coming back over to you as he grabbed your hand. As he put his knee on the bed, a sudden wank on your arm shocked you, lifting you up from the comfort you had found on the built in plush.
“Nooo no please let me stay and rot!” You whined at him as he lifted you up, legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you into the bathroom with him, resting you on the counter.
“Hmm… how about no? You also need a shower and I know if I don’t drag you in here with me before you sleep, you will complain to me in the morning. And as much as I love you, I don’t want that. Plus, it’s a shower with me! You get to help get this off my face-“ Wilbur pointed at his orange face, making you laugh at his statement. He had a point, you like to complain about how dirty you felt after a long day.
“Ok, ok! I’ll take a shower just for you.” You said, kissing the brunette on the lips quickly before he left you, turning the shower on and undressing. “Plus knowing you, you’ll leave half the makeup on when you walk out of the shower and feel even worse-“
“Wow- you have that little faith in me with my self care?!” Wilbur looked at you with a hurt expression, hand landing on his chest as he clutched his heart.
“Have you seen yourself shave?!” You point out the obvious as Wilbur helps you get your shirt off, pants quickly following as you hopped off the counter.
“Yeah yeah- but now I have you to help me.” His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into him. The bathroom started to fog with steam from the water, signaling it was ready for you two.
“That’s right… now can we please get in. I’m cold and I want to sleep.”
taglist: @charliehonks @heartofwritiing @mercurymk @number1wilburfan (lmk if you want added)
hello internet. i'm still working on updating my two series and responding to asks/requests i promise, but i got a random wave of motivation and somehow accidentally wrote a simpbur smut.. so enjoy this little appetizer while i'm still cooking those updates. also experimenting with fonts and how i'm spelling out stuttering/moans in dialogue, so let me know if its to much and hard to read so i can clean it up in future. love u guys, thank you <3
pairing: simpbur x mean!reader
wordcount: 5.6k
warnings: mild sexual coercion, unhealthy dynamic (he loves her, she likes his dick), tiny bit of foot stuff (its brief, grow up), obsessive/possessive wil, threats of violence (not directed at reader), nonconsensual pregnancy attempt + stealing birth control, pussy nicknames (kitty)
contains: vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, probone, doggystyle, squirting, excessive ejaculation, creampie, slapping, biting, degrading.
don’t like, dni. please just block me and move on.
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"please? j-just a quickie.. i promise i'll stay out of y-your room the rest of the day.... please, i'll go s-slow this time. i promise!"
his hands a shaking as he stands in the doorway to your bedroom. he didn't knock, never does, pouting at you pathetically. it wasn't even nine in the morning and he's already bothering you.
honestly, it was your fault for being nice to wilbur. after moving in with a random guy from your class you barely knew in an attempt to manage the cost of living crisis, you're stuck in a twelve month lease living with a sad excuse of a man who can't function without your attention.
you didn't even really consider him a friend, sure you guys shared a class but you hadn't exactly hung out. you never saw him at parties or school events, just occasionally at the library or walking down the halls. despite being so unsocial he stood out since he was so tall and thin, more than a head above the crowds even though he slouched.
he seemed pleasant enough though, if a little quiet. he never spoke to anyone in class, and only answered questions when prompted by the teacher. his grades were the highest in the class but he looked like he could faint when anyone attempted to talk to him.
but when you posted in the university community page about wanting to move out of the dorms and into an apartment, he was somehow the best applicant. he had plenty of money, his grades were impeccable and he promised not to throw parties or bring anyone around. he already lived off campus in a modest two bedroom apartment and explained that his previous roommate had moved out to take care of a sick family member in another state.
so you moved in, and he was happy to help carry boxes and help you settle in. it didn't seem like a bad deal, maybe even perfect. living with someone quiet who keeps to themselves so you could focus on your classes instead of arguing with your old dormmates that were slowly driving you crazy.
you didn't think he would make any effort to spend time with you or even be friends, but he found a excuses to be close to you almost immediately. you knew he wasn't used to talking to girls (or anyone really), he told you about how every other girl at school avoided him like the plague. you don't really blame them, he stares a little too long and sits a little too close. he doesn't blink enough, fingers twitching like he's holding himself back from touching.
his bedroom wall is next to your own, and whoever designed the cheap apartment must have been an exhibitionist because you could hear everything. his fingers on the keyboard, how he'd mutter and giggle to himself while he was alone. worst of all was how often he would masturbate, it would have been impressive if it wasn't so sad.
at least four times a day you would hear it, the faint squeak of his bed as he whimpered and cried pathetically. it almost sounded like he was in pain, breathing heavily like he had just run a marathon. sometimes you could hear him whine your name, muffled as though he had his face buried in the pillows so you wouldn't hear him.
outside of that wil was a fine roommate. never late on chores, didn't complain when you came home late, spent majority of his time locked up in his room. you had started to notice some things when you'd come home, though. your bed made when you swear you didn't when you left, or those earrings you complained about losing finding their way onto your bedside table by morning.
after one of his late night self-love sessions woke you up again, it pushed you over. you'd been so busy with school and your job there was no time for dating, even going out to a bar for a hook up was too much work. so you told him you'd take his virginity to take the edge off, help him relax.
you'd hoped it would fix him, satisfy that desperate urge inside and make him man up a bit. of course, it wasn't that simple. if anything it was worse. no girl had shown him anything close to positive attention, and now he was needing your help to cum because his right had didn't feel the same
and it wasn't like the sex was bad it was just... a lot. he went a little too fast, fingers pressed into your hips until it bruised because he just had no self control. moaning loudly, telling you how thankful he was and how much he needed you. even when you reminded him you weren't his girlfriend and to stop calling you pet names and professing his undying love, he would just smile innocently then pout until you let him touch you again.
now you're lying in bed looking at the sorry excuse for a man who woke up with morning wood he was desperate to have you fix.
"fuck off, i haven't even woken up yet." you said dismissively, glancing up at him before returning to scrolling your phone.
he whines, taking a few steps inside and kneeling beside your bed like a puppy. he was trying desperately to look at your face, but his eyes kept darting down to your bare legs, you were still wearing the oversized shirt and panties you'd slept in.
"it's ok, i'll do all the work darling! you don't have to raise a finger, you'll feel so relaxed afterwards you can go right back to sleep." he said with a smile, running his tongue across his teeth.
you scoff. "i'm not your cumdump, wil. what's in it for me? because based on your track record, it isn't orgasms." you say in a flat tone, smirking at his defeated expression and blush.
he had been very embarrassed by his stamina and inability to last with you, always saying it was just too good. and he'd managed to give you a few orgasms, but his lack of experience was evident in his technique.
"i'll vacuum the whole house- and mop! then order take out for lunch, from that burger place you like." he said quickly, gripping the edge of your bed as he subtly leaned further onto the mattress.
you chuckle, using your foot to push at his forehead to get him off. instead he grabbed your ankle, holding you in place as he licked at the sole of your foot causing you to squeal.
"ew! that tickles you freak!" you say between laughs but he just continued to press a few kisses along your foot. he looked at you with such adoration you swore his pupils were turning into hearts.
"please, pretty? can't help myself, you're so perfect down to your toes. wanna worship my queen, my girl, my gorgeous amazing beatiful-" he's rambling now, mumbling praise between wet kisses to your foot.
with a dejected sigh you pull your leg away and roll onto your belly, continuing to scroll your phone as you hide your grin. "fine, but i'm not moving from this spot. and if you take too long or say anymore of that romantic crap i'm kicking you out."
you've barely gotten the words out before wilbur's scrambling up onto the bed and pressing your body into the bed with his much larger one. his impressive height, all long legs and skinny arms as he nuzzles into the back of your head.
"thank you! i promise you won't regret it." he said with a big grin, inhaling deeply. "can't help praising you, you are just so perfect." he murmured, his knees on either side of your hips. you could feel the outline of his dick through his sweatpants, already leaking and staining the fabric.
"so f-fuckin' pretty.. smell so good." he's grinning as he nuzzles at your neck and shoulder, inhaling deeply and tugging down your underwear until it bunched around your knees.
his hands are shaking and he's still stuttering compliments as he manages to get his sweatpants low enough to free his cock. long and curved upward, you don't even have to look back to imagine the tip flushed an adorable pink and already dripping pre in anticipation.
"i'll be quick, b-but you'll still have fun!" he assures you, one hand gripping the fat of your ass to hold you open so he can spit messily on your slit. you're regrettably already wet, finding his pathetic desperation for you annoyingly arousing and flattering. not that you'd ever say anything because if he got any type of ego he would be even more obsessive.
"heh.. such a pretty kitty. s-so wet f' me... you n-needed this too?" wil giggles, a long finger sliding up and down your cunt before pressing inside with little resistance. "fuck.. always so damn tight- p-perfect fuckhole."
you groan, more of irritation at his cringe dirty talk than arousal as he began to finger you at a quick and messy pace. his eyes glued to your spread cheeks and pussy, drool pooling in his mouth as he used his legs to keep yours open and pinned to the bed even though you were making no effort to move away.
a second finger slides in and he remembers your regular reminders of the importance of clitoral stimulation so he manoeuvre his wrist so he can clumsily rub your clit.
the buzz of pleasure is by no means unpleasant, but it isn't nearly enough to start working you towards an orgasm. "shit, such a messy girl. l-leaking everywhere, c-can you hear y' kitty purrin' f' me?" he says proudly in response to the wet sounds of his long fingers probing your insides.
"you're disgusting, wil." you scoff, still scrolling your phone despite his best efforts to draw your attention and bring you to bliss. "stop referring to my body parts as animals, it's weird."
he whines, hips rutting against the back of your thighs and his hand gripping your ass massaging and squeezing the plump flesh. his fingers dig into your skin roughly, blunt nails jiggling the cheeks so he can watch it jiggle and bounce against his fast moving hand.
"b-but it's so cute like a kitten! don't even mind when its a lil' furry, s-so adorable." he pouts, hand speeding up in an attempt to impress you. "always w-wants pats 'n kisses from me like a n-needy pet."
without looking back you reach behind to grab his arm, digging your nails in and pulling his hand off you. the pain and surprise makes him yelp but he gets the message and moves up your body to straddle the back of your hips.
"s-sorry, baby. just can't help myself heh... c-could play with this gorgeous body aaalllll day~" he draws out the last words as he grips the base of his cock and gives himself a few long strokes, whimpering at the feeling of his own hand.
"just fuck me already, you're lucky i'm giving you a few minutes considering your current behaviour." you scold him, replying to a text message from a friend as he lines himself up and shoves inside.
the surprise penetration causes you to let out a small moan which doesn't go unnoticed by wil, who cages your smaller body with his own and starts fucking you hard and fast like he always does. one hand gripping your hip and the other pressing down between your shoulder blades, his eyes not moving from the sight of his bare cock sliding in and out of you.
"fuck, i told you to wear condoms. you never pull out and leave a huge mess for me to deal with." you complain, fingers pausing on your phone screen as his length manages to grind against your sweet spot with each forward thrust.
"s-sorry pretty, was just- uuugh, god- rushin' too m-much. it's y-your fault, told me to be q-quick." he says between loud moans and desperate whines. his blunt nails dig into you, the room filling with the sound of skin slapping as he gets harder and faster.
the rest of your complaints die in your throat as he lies down on your back completely, subtle chest muscles pressing into your back as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. his breath hot against your skin, even his quietest whimpers audible due to the close proximity.
"so good f'me, p-pretty girl... love m' cock, dontcha baby?" he moans, jaw hanging open and panting against your skin as he ruts into you like an animal. his enthusiasm and size means his dripping cockhead his repeatedly bumping against your g-spot with every slam of his hips, your vision blurring and fingers fumbling on your phone screen as you admit defeat and close the app since you wouldn't be able to manage a voice note in this state.
a large hand slides under your arm and around your ribs, groping your tit while his weight keeps your chest pinned to the bedsheets. you can feel wil drooling, as though he can't even close his mouth due to the overwhelming sensations.
"f-fuck, stop drooling." you whine, turning your head to the side to dodge his attempts to kiss your flushed cheeks. "gonna have to change the sheets again, you prick."
the side of your face presses into the bed, eyes squeezed shut and biting back moans while his fingers clumsily tweak your nipple. the angle is awkward and he can hardly move his wrist because of how you're lying, and his inability to restrain himself has him tugging almost painfully on the sensitive bud.
"s-sorry m' love- change it- i can change it later." he can barely string together a full sentence with all his brain power being focused on you. you. you.
the feeling of your sweaty skin sliding and sticking to his own. the smell of your body odour since you haven't showered today mixing with sweat and arousal that's just pouring from your pussy. the sound of his bony hips meeting your ass and his dick spreading your folds with every thrust.
wil audibly slurps and manages some self preservation to sit up so he can take his hand off of you and wipe at his mouth and chin that is currently dripping with his own drool. his mouth is still full of saliva, a hunger that isn't satiated even while he's inside you.
"m' sorry, s-so sorry. nnngh lemme jus' make it up to y'." stumbling through his words he sits back on his knees, straightening up and using his grip on your breast as leverage to pull you from prone bone into doggy style.
you can't pretend the change in angle and depth isn't satisfying, a low moan rolling off your tongue. despite his slim build, his strength constantly surprised you. for someone who's diet consisted of toast and coffee without a workout routine, he still managed to move your body with ease. not that you ever really gave him the opportunity to show it off considering you chastised him when he was too rough.
except for now, your usual brattiness is humbled by his grip on the front of your thighs as he pulls you onto his shaft with every deep thrust.
his rhythm is steadier now, but harder and purposeful. each press forward has his engorged cockhead grinding against your sweet spot before slamming into your cervix. clearly he's trying to prove something and impress you. to your disappointment, it's working.
"y' like that, huh? p-pretty girl lovin' how i fuck her?" he whines, searching for your praise and reassurance even as your inner walls clench and quiver around him. "n-not mad at me any more, yeah?"
you whimper, a sound he's already memorising and saving in the back of his mind for the next time he jerks off, shifting your weight to your elbows so you can arch your back and bounce your hips back. he lets out a sound somewhere between a whine and a sob, watching as your ass jiggles with the impact.
"f-fuck yeah... such hahh a g-good ass, holy shit. p-perfect.." he keeps a hand gripping your thigh open but the other slides up to pull your cheeks apart once more so he can get that fraction deeper inside. the thick base of his cock hitting your sensitive folds that are reddening due to the rough fucking you're enduring.
"pretty girl, you love my cock b-baby? please, mmnph- tell me y' love it. p-please-" he whimpered, begging desperately for your praise. just to hear you say something nice to him, something kind compared to the insults and bullying you directed at him regularly.
not willing to give him the satisfaction despite his objectively good performance, you instead brace your hands on the mattress and press back fully to mess up his rhythm. the change in position leaves him unable to pull out more than an inch or two, forcing him to rut quickly and pathetically into you.
he cries out, leaning forward to arch over your back and wrap an arm around your waist. rocking his hips deeply and sliding his hand down your stomach until his fingers find your swollen clit.
"puh-lease, p-pretty girl. why y' hate me s' much?" he sobbed, clumsily rubbing your clit and pressing wet kisses up your spine. "pussy so fuckin' wet, so messy f'me... you know is f'me, baby. jus' tell me y' lovin' how i'm fuckin' ya."
your juices are dribbling down his balls, both your thighs slick with arousal as he continued begging and circling your clit with an annoyingly addictive rhythm. you feel incredible, the deep grinds of his dick stretching you out and reaching deeper than your toys or any previous partners have. you swear you can feel his tip leaking copious amounts of pre and stuffing you fuller.
in all honestly he is fucking you perfectly, white hot pleasure bubbling under your skin and racing down your veins as the orgasm that has been building grows closer and closer. you hate to admit it, give the perverted bastard the satisfaction, but fuck. he's good. and you really do love his cock.
"s' good, wil." you say, gritting your teeth so your words aren't a garbled moan. giving him a tiny bit of reassurance, even though he arguably deserves you screaming his name and begging him to make you cum. "love your cock, s-so deep. feels good."
your words barely leave your lips before he is practically squealing with joy, shifting his legs so his knees press on the inside of your own and spreading you wider. he keeps that same repetitive and rough rhythm with his hips and his hand which is now dripping with your slick to slide lower on where you are connected. he makes a v with his fingers to prop your folds open, the movements of his hips and wrist mirroring each other so his palm can grind against your swollen nub.
you have no idea where he learned that technique, briefly imagining him watching porn and hentai for tips, before the mounting pleasure drives any thoughts out of your mind other than him. him. him.
"fuck y-yes, knew it! you l-love my cock, baby. thas' why you take m' so well. ughh- perfect kitty, need me to keep her purrin' and soaked." wil groaned, voice lowering an octave. as though a switch had been flipped from your brief words of encouragement, he's suddenly much rougher and meaner as he pounds your tight hole.
some part of you wants to shout some snarky remark, tell him to pull out, so you can get on top, slap him across the face and degrade him to remind him of his place. how such a pathetic, perverted fucking loser he is.
he doesn't deserve your attention; let alone the privilege to fuck you raw. realistically, he should be thanking the heavens for the fact you let him share a room with you.
considering the morning after moving in he'd already taken the used panties and leggings you'd worn while unpacking from your laundry hamper within the hour of you setting it up in your new room. later after some probing questions (with your hand gripping his collar as he whimpered and fell to his knees in the kitchen) he admitted between sniffles they were stuffed in his pillowcase so he could smell you while he slept.
maybe you should have called your mum and asked to sleep on her couch for the rest of the semester or crawled back to that ex with a nice apartment so you didn't have to spend anymore time with such a freak.
and yet, you chose to stay with him- after you'd grabbed him by his brown curls and pinned the back of his head against the lower kitchen cabinets, pressing your panty-clad cunt against his nose and let him enjoy the fresh scent of your cunt from the source all the while begging for forgiveness.
and then by the second week and you walked by his open bedroom door and smelt yourself, after some investigating (which definitely wasn't you shoving him onto the carpet and digging your food into his balls until he confessed) you realised he had been using your beauty products religiously so his skin, hair and clothes carried your scent. he'd even went out of his way to buy a copy of your signature perfume so he could spray himself and his bed whenever he wanted.
and of course after that first month with nights (and mornings, afternoons, evenings...) hearing him lewdly moan your name as he wanked multiple times a day, and you practically kicked down his door to shut him up. by sitting on his face until you came twice. then his cock for a third and fourth. he was quiet by the end of that, considering he was drooling and couldn't keep his eyes open as he fell asleep sitting upright.
so maybe if you took a moment to self reflect on your recent behaviour and continued involvement in his life you would realise you were just as much of a perverted freak as wil was.
but with his nine inch dick deep in your pussy as he rearranged your insides, you weren't thinking much of anything.
"p-pretty girl, my pretty fuckin' girl. all mine, jus' me, yeah? no one fucks this kitty better than me." wilbur smirked, motivated by your encouragement he used his size and strength to overpower your body and treated you like a sex doll.
"never see ya bring no one a-around our place, n-not even -unghh, shit- your lil' friends. not ashamed 'f me, are you? jus' love my big dick so m-much you gotta keep us a secret." he laughed, the sound strained in his throat as he let his possessive thoughts spill out of his mouth. "don't want no one else to f-feel this good, that r-right baby? you're so cute when you're jealous."
"not one fuckin' boyfriend visitin' ya since moving, no stupid jocks or frat boys touchin' ya kitty. ya don't talk to them, r-right? n-no other boys ya seein' behind my back, y' promise?" his hand holding your hip somehow tightened its impossibly firm grip even harder, no doubt leaving bruises for him to fawn over tomorrow. "i'll fuckin' kill em, any guy lookin' at my girl. s'all mine, my girlfriend."
"it's 'cause i'm all you need, yeah? jus' me n' you pretty girl. i keep my gorgeous- f-fuck, mmphh, goddamn- gorgeous girlfriend happy with my big fuckin' cock. fill up her n-needy kitty, make her purr 'n lovin' on her just how she likes." as wil spoke, his hips didn't slow for a moment. dick harder than steel, thick globs of pre finding a home inside you with every deep thrust as he got closer to his own orgasm.
you were approaching your own without any choice, thighs quivering and clit hardening as it throbbed against his palm. every movement grinded the hypersensitive nub against his hand, each pounding thrust of his length pressing into your g spot perfectly.
"s-so tight, my love. such a perfect kitty, made f'me, only me. ya took my virginity, 'n my heart baby. all yours, love makin' you happy. jus' like how- s-shit you keep me happy." he lets out a breathless laugh, body almost working on auto pilot. as though having sex with you was as easy as breathing.
your body on the other hand doesn't even feel like your own, it's his. the way he keeps the perfect amount of pressure on your clit and pulls you onto his member every time he slams his hips forward. the pleasure is mind numbing. your limbs have practically gone limp, eyes rolling back as you force your lips to move and throat to do anything but moan.
"g-gonna cum." you stutter, the whimpering tone feels foreign on your tongue but its the best you can do as your tummy muscles tighten in preparation of your climax. "wil- ughhh, please"
even though your voice is so strained and barely audible over the schlick schlick schlick from your hole being reshaped to the size of his girth and applause of skin meeting skin, he hears you. he feels you. he has you.
there's no hesitation when your pleading inspires some inhuman strength and stamina within his thin body as he finds a way to fuck you harder, his check practically glued to your spine. keeping his talented fingers right where you need them, rubbing dreamy circles so quickly against your sensitive clit.
"yes yes yes- good girl, m-my pretty girl. cum, gonna cum? f-fuck, tightening up on me! god, mmnnggh- cum, p-please. cum f'me, pretty girl." he's pleading now, mouth open against your shoulder blade. his dick throbbing, on the edge of his own orgasm but he would rather never cum again than mess up this orgasm for you.
as your pleasure reaches the top, crashing down and through your body like a waterfall- overwhelming and all encompassing. every muscle pulls in tight for a few long seconds, eyes crossing and mouth agape as you cum.
"f-fuck baby- god, y-yes! thas' it, p-pretty girl, cum f'me, make a mess of my cock." before his own orgasm has it, he is already experiencing bliss at the feeling of your impossibly wet and tight pussy convulsing around him along with the knowledge that he is the one who's brought you this pleasure.
his hips stutter but continue to to move. while fingers clumsily sliding back and fourth quickly over your folds as your juices begin to dribble down his wrist, then your squirting.
you are barely aware of the fact because of the mind-numbing orgasm itself, but seeing and feeling it wil's balls drawing up in anticipation of his own climax. he cries out your name, tears bubbling in the corners of his eyes. pressing himself as deep as he can in your cunt as clear sprays from you in messy streams.
the same moment thick ropes of potent seed shoot into your cervix, he bites down on the back of your neck hard. his teeth digging into the skin, any other time would have made you cry out in pain but in the throes of passion it only heightens the pleasure and makes you sob and squirt even harder.
his long arms are locked around your middle, hand still sliding across your cunt with an open palm to force out every spurt of your cum. his own is flooding your quivering hole in violet pulses, cock throbbing in time with his rapid heartbeat which is matched with each ejaculation.
its hot, viscous and unmistakably virile. his earlier promise to pull out is forgotten along with your birth control which he keeps 'misplacing' while cleaning.
"l-love you, mummy. m' pretty girl, love you s' much. take all 'f that cum, thas' it... gonna stick this time..." he mumbled, words slurred against your skin as he lazily licks across the indents from his teeth. "t-took me so well, y' so full of me, huh? such a messy girl, mmmnng, love you... gonna make such a g-good mama"
your limbs have long since gone limp and find yourself lying flat on your bed with wil lying across your back, still mumbling about his love for you while his eyes are already closing. he hadn't even attempted to pull out, his pelvis practically glued to your ass as he continued to cum. its slower now, but his dick seems adamant to pump as much sperm inside you as possible even as he is half asleep.
your own orgasm has settled into a comfortable hum, aftershocks causing you to tighten around his throbbing length causing him to whine and momentarily tighten his grip on your waist.
in what could have been minutes or hours, your mind clears the orgasmic fog and brings you back to reality; wil is draped across your back and keeping you pinned to the bed with his entire body weight, your womb practically plump with his load since he was still half hard inside you, your entire body is covered with sweat and aches.
the sudden silence in the room is jarring, the earlier sounds of sex now the faint hum of your computer which is still running on sleep mode at your desk and wil breathing heavily with his face pressed into the back of your neck.
"wil?"
no response, he doesn't even twitch.
"wilbur?"
still nothing, his body is entirely limp and breathing steady.
".... pretty boy?"
"yes, my love?"
you can feel him grinning as he nuzzles deeper into the space between your shoulder and neck, hands trailing up and down your sides. he seems content to stay inside and on top of you forever.
"get off, i can barely breath." you groan, shifting underneath him as he giggles at your predicament. he is in no rush as he pushes himself up with his arms, looking down at where you are still connected.
he doesn't move further, so you pull yourself forward on the bed so he slips out of you well used hole, rolling your eyes at his pathetic whining behind you.
wincing slightly you move to sit with your back against the headboard, stretching your legs out and cracking the joints in your neck with a satisfied groan. his eyes are on the puddle of juices on the sheets, trailing across the fabric and up your thighs to where you are still leaking.
"you're cleaning my bed, i hope you know." you sigh, reaching for your phone to see if your friend had responded to your earlier message. post nut clarity is a powerful thing, and now you're needing space from the manchild that just put his heart and sole into loving you.
he's pouting. you don't have to look up from your screen to know, you can basically hear the puppy dog eyes he's burning into your still very naked body only a few feet away from him.
not giving him the satisfaction of even a teasing comment you swing your legs over the side of the bed and stand up, shaking slightly as you feel another wave of spunk dribble down the inside of your thighs and stain your skin. you grimace at the sight and feeling, especially knowing you've missed taking your birth control the last week since you couldn't find the container- and now looking at the seemingly endless amount still leaking and no doubt settling inside you, you you're regretting not organising that doctor's appointment for a new prescription.
if you gave it any thought when you weren't in a post-orgasm haze, you'd put together the fact that wilbur was always making excuses and 'accidentally' forgetting to buy condoms or 'failing' to pull out (or in one recent case when you'd only let him straddle your legs and jerk himself off to the sight of your naked body- only to shove the tip of his dick inside your hole right as he came) in time.
maybe you would have actually paid his dirty talk any mind, noticing how often he'd call you 'mama' or 'mummy' as he finished, even if he was wearing a condom or spilling down your throat.
or perhaps you'd find his ever growing collection of your birth control pills he had been taking from the bathroom and your bedside table when you weren't home. you blamed your messy room and disorganisation as the boxes grew dust in a shoebox at the back of his wardrobe.
instead your mind is currently preoccupied with your friend texting you about a classmate who's apparently sleeping with the professor to get a higher grade while cheating on her boyfriend who's been seen snogging his cousin at a party last night, along with washing off the sweat and spunk of your roommate that still clings to you.
"i'm gonna go shower, these sheets better be in the laundry and fresh ones put back on when i get back." you say in a firm tone, eyes finally meeting his for the first time since before he slid inside you from behind which felt like a lifetime ago.
"b-but pretty girl, d-don't you wanna snuggle a bit first?" he gives you a hopeful smile, already reaching across the mattress to try and grab your hand and pull you back to bed. "you smell so good after we fuck, all sweaty and l-like me. then your awesome boyfriend can join you in the shower for round two-"
you slap him across the face before walking out of the room.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘♡⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘♡⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘♡⫘⫘⫘⫘
taglist: @lillyspeakz@multifandomhallucinations@xxvalentinezxx@charlidog@bellelikesmcyt @heartofwritiing (reply or send an ask to be added/removed)
based off the thought of someone telling you that you have to be quiet with their hand over your mouth, just to fuck you harder so all you can do is moan and whine.
☆ ☆ ☆
the rain lashed against the windowpane of the high-rise apartment, a steady, rhythmic percussion that matched the frantic beat of their heart. the city lights below were a smear of gold and neon through the water-streaked glass, a distant world that had nothing to do with the heat trapped inside this room, with the man currently pinning them to the plush, expensive rug.
william gold—wilbur to his friends, a name that carried the weight of indie music fame and internet notoriety—was not their friend tonight. his usual easy grin was gone, replaced by a focused, almost predatory intensity. one large hand was splayed across their lower back, holding them down, while the other...
the other was over their mouth.
his palm was warm and slightly rough against their lips, his fingers curling around the curve of their jaw. they could smell the faint scent of his cologne, something smoky and expensive, and the sharper, more intimate scent of his skin.
"you have to be quiet," he murmured, his voice a low, velvet rasp directly beside their ear. his breath was hot. "the walls in this building are paper-thin, love. and the last thing i need is my neighbors calling the building manager because they heard... this."
this. the slow, deliberate drag of him inside them, a thick, relentless stretch that stole the air from their lungs. they tried to arch back, to meet him, but his hand on their back was an immovable anchor. he set the pace, and it was a slow, torturous burn, each withdrawal almost complete before he'd sink back in, deeper, filling them up until they felt him in their throat.
a whimper vibrated against his palm, muffled and desperate. their eyes screwed shut, nails digging into the wool of the rug.
"i know," he cooed, and the gentleness in his tone was a brutal contrast to the punishing slowness of his hips. "i know it's good. but quiet. be good for me and keep it down."
he was lying. they could see it in the dark gleam of his eyes when they managed to crack theirs open, in the way his own control was fraying at the edges. a muscle ticked in his jaw. a fine sheen of sweat glistened on his collarbone, visible where his black shirt was unbuttoned halfway down his chest. he wanted to hear them break. this was the game.
he shifted his weight, the angle changing, and the next thrust wasn't slow. it was a hard, driving piston that punched a ragged, choked sound from their chest, a sound his hand swallowed whole. their body jerked like a live wire.
"ah-ah," he tutted, but his own breath hitched. he began to move in earnest then, abandoning the teasing pace for something raw and demanding. each snap of his hips was a jolt of pure, white-hot sensation, a friction so perfect it bordered on pain. the wet, slick sounds of their joining filled the room, obscene and loud in the space their voice was denied.
the pressure built, a coil tightening low in their abdomen, spiraling tighter and tighter with every brutal, perfect stroke. moans piled up behind the prison of his hand, becoming frantic, pleading vibrations. they were panting through their nose, breaths coming in sharp, whistling bursts. tears pricked at the corners of their eyes from the overwhelming need to cry out, to let the world know how beautifully he was ruining them.
he watched them fall apart, his gaze hungry and unwavering.
"that's it," he growled, his voice thick with strain. "take it. just take it. all you can do is feel it." he leaned closer, his lips brushing the shell of their ear. "all you can do is moan and whine for me, and i get to keep every fucking sound for myself."
his words tipped them over the edge. the coil snapped. pleasure detonated through their veins, a silent, screaming supernova that locked their muscles and bowed their spine. a high, thin keen escaped around the edges of his fingers, the only vocalization they could manage as the waves crashed through them, relentless and electric.
feeling them clench and pulse around him shattered the last of his control. with a guttural groan he couldn't suppress, he buried himself to the hilt, his hand clamping harder over their mouth as his own release tore through him. they felt the hot rush deep inside, the frantic pulse of him, the full-body shudder that wracked his frame as he collapsed over them, his forehead dropping to their shoulder.
for long minutes, the only sounds were the rain, the hum of the central air, and their combined, ragged breathing. slowly, carefully, he peeled his hand away from their mouth. their lips felt bruised, tender. they drew in a deep, shuddering gasp of cool air, the first full breath they'd taken in what felt like hours.
he nuzzled into the crook of their neck, pressing a soft, incongruously sweet kiss to their damp skin.
"fuck," he breathed, the word laden with awe and exhaustion. his arms came around them, rolling them both onto their sides, still joined, a tangled mess of limbs on the floor.
he looked at them then, his brown eyes soft, the predator gone, replaced by the wilbur they knew—the one with the clever smile and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. he brushed a strand of hair from their sticky forehead.
"you," he said, his thumb tracing their swollen lower lip, "are incredibly loud." a grin, real and bright, finally broke through. "good thing i was here to handle it."
the dream had been a feverish, sweat-soaked thing.
hips grinding into the sheets, groan, tug, repeat.
william gold didn’t dream of sex—or at least, he never remembered dreaming of it. his subconscious was usually occupied with quieter anxieties: a forgotten homework assignment, the echo of his father’s disapproval, the precise way light fell through the oak tree outside his childhood window. but last night… last night was different.
in the dream, he wasn’t himself. he was a creature of pure, hungry impulse. the sheets were a tangled prison, his hips grinding into the mattress with a slow, relentless rhythm. a low groan vibrated in his throat, swallowed by the pillow his face was mashed against. in the vivid theater behind his eyelids, it wasn’t a pillow. it was their neck. their skin was warm and smelled like vanilla and rain, a scent he’d catalogued without meaning to during study sessions that stretched too long in their living room. in the dream, his lips were on that spot just below their ear, his groan—raw and sexual—a hot puff of air against their skin as he snapped his hips forward, meeting an imagined resistance that felt devastatingly real. his hands, which in reality were fisted in his cotton sheets, tugging lightly with each strained thrust, were tangled in their hair. soft, messy, exactly as it looked when they’d run their fingers through it in frustration over calculus.
his body was a coiled spring winding tighter, tighter. the groans became less stifled, slipping into the quiet of his bedroom—short, punched-out sounds.
“god…” his hips stuttered, losing their rhythm, movements turning sloppy and desperate as the pressure built low in his gut, a taut wire about to snap. the fantasy was so potent, so physical, it bypassed all his usual filters. it was just sensation: the heat, the friction, the image of their face flushed and their lips parted.
his eyes flew open as the climax ripped through him. reality crashed back in—the grey dawn light seeping around his blinds, the familiar crack in his ceiling, the damp chill of sweat on his back—but it was too late. his hips jerked forward one last, grinding time as the orgasm pulsed, wringing a long, low groan from deep in his chest, a sound he muffled desperately into the feather-down of his pillow. for a few seconds, he just lay there, hips making minute, aftershock circles, riding out the fading waves of pleasure that were already curdling into immediate, profound shame.
he rolled onto his back with a heavy, exhausted sigh, throwing an arm over his eyes.
“fuck,” he whispered to the empty room. the word hung in the air, accusatory. he checked the time on his phone: 6:17 am. a strange, hollow gratitude washed over him. he lived alone in this small apartment, a fact he’d sometimes lament for its quiet loneliness. now, it was a sanctuary. no roommate to hear, no awkward morning-after questions. just him and the ghost of a dream that felt less like a fantasy and more like a betrayal.
the shower was punishingly cold. he scrubbed his skin roughly, as if he could scour the memory away. he dressed with mechanical precision: dark jeans, a simple grey sweater, the brown corduroy jacket they’d once said made him look like a brooding poet. each action was a brick in a wall he was trying to build between that version of himself—the one panting into a pillow, dreaming of his best friend’s body—and the one who had to face them today. they’re your best friend. he chanted internally, brushing his teeth with aggressive focus.
your best friend. don’t be a creep. don’t screw this up. it was just a dream. it means nothing.
but his body, still humming with a residual, traitorous energy, called him a liar.
the walk to campus did little to clear his head. the autumn air was crisp, carrying the smell of fallen leaves and distant woodsmoke. it was the kind of morning they loved, they’d always said it felt full of possibility. today, it felt like a taunt. he rounded the corner towards the social sciences building, his usual meeting spot with them, and his heart performed a clumsy, heavy somersault in his chest.
there they were. leaning against the red brick wall, scrolling through their phone, a steaming paper cup of tea in their other hand. they were wearing that oversized burgundy sweater, the one that slipped off one shoulder, and their hair was a bit windswept. they looked… they looked like they always did. beautiful. familiar. his.
the moment they spotted him, a smirk bloomed on their face, erasing the early morning softness. it was a smirk that promised gentle torment. his stomach clenched.
“well, look what the cat dragged in,” they called out, pushing off the wall. “you’re making that face, will. the one that says your brain is trying to solve a quadratic equation written in ancient greek. it’s going to give you permanent wrinkles, you know.” they reached up and poked the space between his furrowed brows. he managed a weak eye-roll, catching their wrist before they could retreat.
“you know me so well,” he mumbled, the words coming out gruffer than intended. he released their wrist to fake a yawn, stretching his arms over his head to buy a second, to try and steady the sudden, dizzying rush of the dream-memory—his hands, their hair.
they fell into step beside him, sipping their tea. “rough night? you seem… off.”
“just didn’t sleep great,” he deflected, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets.
they nudged him with their elbow, tone light, teasing. “i bet. probably stayed up all night thinking about how tragically, madly in love with me you are. it’s a common ailment, i hear.”
he stiffened. for one terrifying, heart-stopping second, he thought they knew. that his subconscious had somehow broadcasted the sordid details directly to them. then he saw the glint in their eye, the playful curve of their lip, and the panic receded, leaving him shaky. he forced a laugh, hoping it didn’t sound as hysterical as it felt.
“totally,” he played along, the script comforting in its familiarity. “couldn’t sleep for imagining our epic romance. me, sweeping you off your feet. us, riding two sorry-looking campus rental bikes into the sunset while a terrible pop love song plays. the whole cliché.” he nudged them back, offering a fond smile that felt like a fragile mask.
they gasped dramatically, clutching their chest. “william gold! you’ve dreamed of our soundtrack? i’m touched!”
the saving grace of the first-period bell shattered the moment. their eyes went wide. “shit, i’ve got poli-sci across campus! we’ll talk later!” they were off in a flash, a blur of burgundy and flying hair, leaving him standing alone in the suddenly-too-quiet hallway.
the day passed in a miserable, distracted haze. lectures were a drone of white noise. notes he took were nonsensical scribbles. his mind was a broken record stuck between two tracks:
tell them. just tell them. you kissed them in the dream, and it felt more real than anything. tell them before you lose your nerve.
and the counterpoint, cold and pragmatic:
are you insane? they were joking this morning. joking. that’s what you do. you tease. you’re friends. tell them about that dream? they’ll look at you with horror. they’ll take a step back. you’ll watch the ease between you curdle into awkwardness, and then distance, and then nothing. you’ll have killed the best thing in your life for a fantasy.
by the time final bell rang, the internal war had left him ragged. he found them at their locker, and the words left his mouth before he could second-guess them.
“come to my place. now. i have to tell you something.” his voice was low, urgent, stripped of all its usual lazy humor.
they blinked, surprise wiping their expression clean for a second. but they just nodded, slinging their backpack over one shoulder. “okay. lead the way.”
the silence in his apartment was oppressive. he tossed his keys on the counter with a loud clatter, the sound absurdly loud. they leaned against the kitchen island, watching him as he paced the short length of the living room rug, wearing a path in the pile.
“will, what’s—”
“don’t,” he interrupted, raising a hand. he stopped pacing, finally forcing himself to meet their gaze. their eyes were wide, concerned, utterly trusting. it almost broke him. “don’t say anything. not one thing. i need to get this out right now, or i’m going to chicken out and live with this… this thing eating me alive.”
he took a shuddering breath, the air feeling thin. “i’m in love with you. and— and i have to tell you because you’re my best friend, and i had this dream. a really intense, completely inappropriate dream that you should not have about your best friend.” the words were tumbling out now, a chaotic avalanche. “and you definitely, absolutely do not have to return these feelings, but please, just don’t… don’t look at me like i’m a monster, just don’t leave, i can’t—”
their kiss cut off the ramble, not with softness, but with a decisive, rough certainty. his brain short-circuited. for a split second, the dream and reality superimposed—the warmth of their neck, the feel of them—and then his body reacted on pure, primal instinct.
a low, punched-out groan vibrated from his throat into their mouth as his hands flew to their hips, gripping them hard enough to feel the bone beneath their sweater. the satisfaction was instantaneous and overwhelming, a key sliding into a lock he hadn’t known was empty. their response was just as fierce; their hands tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, tilting his head, deepening the kiss from something surprising into something hungry and deep.
rational thought dissolved. there was only the feel of their lips moving against his, the soft sound they made in the back of their throat, the way their body arched into his. in what felt like both an eternity and a single heartbeat, his arms were around them, lifting them. their legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, and he carried them the few stumbling steps to the nearest wall—the closet door in the hallway—pinning them against it with a soft thud. the friction was exquisite, maddening. he ground his hips forward, seeking relief for an ache that had been building since dawn, and a ragged moan escaped him, swallowed by their mouth.
the kiss turned sloppy, wet, desperate. their hands yanked at the hem of his sweater, breaking apart just long enough to pull it over his head and toss it blindly behind him. his hands followed suit, groping greedily over the soft curves of their chest through their sweater before finding the hem and pulling it off. the garment joined his on the floor, a trail of discarded normalcy.
their palms slid over his chest, his shoulders, mapping the tense, eager muscles.
“wil,” they breathed against his lips, their voice husky, “bed. now.”
he didn’t need telling twice. he carried them the rest of the way to his bedroom, laying them down in the center of his rumpled sheets—the same sheets from his dream, a fact that sent a fresh, hot jolt through him. he crawled over them, his body slotting between their thighs, and immediately ground down again, the denim of his jeans a rough barrier against their bare skin. a deep, guttural groan rumbled from his chest.
“fuck,” he muttered, his mouth finding theirs again as his hands fumbled with the button of their jeans. they helped him, kicking them off along with their underwear. his own pants and boxers followed in a hurried, clumsy push, and then there was nothing between them but heat and want.
he kissed them, hard, as he positioned himself at their entrance. he teased, just the barest, slick tip of him pressing in, then retreating. a sexually frustrated, beautiful groan tumbled from their lips, their hips canting up, trying to chase him, to take him in.
“wil— please—”
his control, so tightly wound all day, snapped. patience was for another lifetime. with a sharp, driving roll of his hips, he sheathed himself fully inside them in one smooth, deep stroke.
the dual moans that filled the room were raw, unfiltered. his was a stunned, reverent “oh, god…” as the tight, wet heat of them enveloped him, a feeling a thousand times more profound than any dream. theirs was a higher, breathy cry of his name, their head falling back against the pillows, eyes squeezing shut.
for a moment, he was still, buried to the hilt, forehead pressed to theirs, panting, drowning in the sensation. then instinct took over. he drew back and snapped his hips forward again, setting a fast, urgent rhythm from the start. one of their hands fisted in his hair, the other clawing at the back of his neck, holding him to them. he braced one hand by their head, the other finding their hip, his thumb digging into the soft flesh as he drove into them.
“wil— right there, fuck—“ they groaned, the words breaking as their own hips bucked up to meet his thrusts, forcing a deeper, lower moan from him. he bit his own lip, the sharp pain a grounding counterpoint to the pleasure coiling tight in his gut. he buried his face in the curve of their neck, exactly as he had in the dream, but this was real—the salt-sweet taste of their skin, the frantic pulse under his lips, the way they gasped when he sucked a mark there.
the pace was brutal, perfect. the room filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, ragged breathing, and the creak of the bed frame. their legs tightened around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back, angling him deeper. and then they cried out, a sharp, shattered sound, as he hit a spot inside them that made their entire body tense.
“don’t stop, please, don’t stop,” they pleaded, their voice a wrecked whisper in his ear.
he was close, so close, the edge a bright, blinding line. seeing them come undone, feeling the subtle, fluttering clench of their inner muscles around him, tipped him over. “i’m gonna…” he warned, his voice strangled.
they gave a slight nod, head burying in the pillow beneath them as their second climax hit them. their back arching off the bed, a string of obscene, beautiful moans pouring from their lips as they clenched around him rhythmically.
it was too much. with three final, deep, grinding thrusts, he followed them, his own release tearing through him with a force that stole his vision and his breath. a long, ragged groan was torn from his throat, muffled against their shoulder as he spilled himself inside them, hips stuttering through the pulses until he was spent, collapsed atop them, trembling and slick with sweat.
for long minutes, the only sounds were the frantic hammering of two hearts slowing into syncopation, and the harsh, shared struggle for air. the ghost of the dream was gone, exorcised by a reality that was messier, louder, and infinitely more real. he’d screwed it up, or he’d started something new. lying there, with their fingers slowly carding through his damp hair, he found, for the first time that day, that he didn’t care which it was.
