call me what you like, aha, no but seriously my name is spencer. smut writer, will be posting little bits and pieces. preferably under the tag "spencer writes" and if im talking shit "spencer talks shit"
i don't really give a fuck if you're reading my smut as a minor, just don't talk to me and don't like my shit.
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Writing Links
Want Me Sober, Please (Forgive Me): A dub-con fic where Wilbur is drunk and horny and yearning and the sober reader gives him what he wants. (18+, afab reader)
The Angels Made You For Me: By being a nice person, you gave one suicidal boy hope. Also an obsession. (18+, gn reader)
Kiss the Cook: You unknowingly start reading an erotic novel at the kitchen table while your boyfriend Wilbur makes dinner. (18+, gn reader, mentions of piv sex)
Room)Mates: You come home expecting your golden-retriever roommate only to find a begging puddle of a pretty boy. (18+, knotting, dubcon, fem!reader)
Plot Twist (But We All Knew): Simpbur is your stalker and one night you decide to twist the tables on him. (18+, afab/gn reader)
You are welcome when I read something I try to be appreciative if I can and add my crtisitiam if they want it! It is nice you have writing as an outlet cause some people do other bad things as an outlet, and your writing is good I like it 🧡
The reason I'm a pencil is cause I draw a lot.
And the witchbur thing isn't really my style anyway tbh😓 I kinda gave up at the 5th chapter i think...
I can never find a person sometimes where they don't think that phantombur or ghostbur can be literally awesome in the bedroom! (at least that's what I think, we all have different preferences I know. But I mean come on imagine if you were to corrupte the cute little ghosty boy or have him unexpectedly be so dirty, kinky, and absolutely dominate you)
But any way have a nice or wherever you are it's like 7pm for me right now bye😊👋
-✏️
out of my previous outlets... far healthier yeah, lmao. and that's good, a lot of people, like myself, appreciate hearing the readers' thoughts. also that checks out, solid name.
it's alright, it's not really smut right now but i am a big fan of academic rivals and enemies to lovers but i'm obsessed a little bit.
also, i think it just depends, specifically on the situation and yeah, people's tastes. for me, i think a ghost can get real kinky and phantombur that goes invisible? obviously so. others, not so much. i don't know.
and it's almost 7:30 for me now so hope you have a good night then.
And also it's kinda cool I'm your first anon, and the witchbur thing going around WHAT!? I DIDN'T KNOW ABOUT THAT!?
Also since you said other bursonas you also do have you ever heard of phantombur from origins smp cause i simp for that man and ghostbur also👏 so like...
Imagine if they both tagged teamed you they both are like cold so the temperature play is in FULL EFFECT and it's just like AAAAHHHHH cuz like ones at the back ones at front and you on your hands and knees between them, and I don't know why but I canon phantom as like 6'8 cuz phantoms are kinda big and since Wilbur hasn't confirmed all the heights so they are all just lanky tall 6'6 men its weird yet hot cuz um hand kink club right here baby.
Sorry for the rant but it's just like I need an outlet sometimes and you're a good writer and I like your style cuz it's so different from others I see I like the build up and the small endings of explanation as closure it is so good
-✏️
ya welcome and yeah it's pretty cool, but im sure theyre just watching me post and left interacting for the brave people. i might not be the most approachable person. But.
also here's the witchbur fic. It's academic rivals, enemies to lovers type shit.
And don't even worry, it's a good thought, ill think on it during my shift. And i get the need for an outlet, it's why i write. im happy you enjoy what i create, genuinely.
Anonymous asked: Ok um your dub con ask right I saw it and um how about gender-neutral chubby reader *cause I am and, and also genderfluid so it'll be good for me if it was gender neutral, if not afab. it's okay if you don't write that chubby reader stuff also!* where simpbur is being teased by them knowing that he's been stalking them (our little greasy simp didn't catch on) and in the middle of night while he's touching in his sleep they grab him by the arm and started to straddle him and degrade him and he may be in shock but he's just like blushing and dying to death and then they have nice steamy night of them ending up together😌.
love the details. did my best. enjoy
trigger warnings: 18+, stalking, unhealthy relationship, somno if you blink, gn reader but yes chubby afab reader. 18+. also degradation, just a bit. listen you're having sex with your stalker, this isn't gonna be healthy and i suggest treading carefully, you know yourself better than anyone. explicit.
Plot Twist (But We All Knew)
It's been two hours and you're still at the local coffee shop. Not... unusual, people do like to use the shop for the free wifi, the obvious coffee part, and the slightly cozy atmosphere. He shifts in his seat, thumbing over the cardboard sleeve and only flickers his eyes off of the laptop once he sees that you're packing your stuff up. You didn't have any projects coming up, nothing from work or school, it didn't make sense why you'd be here but it's nothing he can't figure out. His right hand twitches as he sees you lean over to pick up a dropped wire and your shirt rides up, god, if only he could just- run his fingers over your skin, watch the goosebumps rise and kiss and bite at the stretch marks peeking through- and you're leaving. Waving bye to the barista.
You didn't make plans with any friends, he knows this, so after ten minutes, he packs his things up and leaves too. Without the goodbyes to the person at the counter. He stands outside, the cool breeze blowing through his open jacket as he looks both ways before crossing the street. He has the route of your home memorized, mostly because it had been so close to his. It's like you were just made for him.. Course you didn't seem to acknowledge it. Anytime you saw him, direct eye contact, you never seemed to do more than a brief smile and wave. So casual, so... temporary. He wants the genuine smile you get when you make the little cookies, when you turn the music on in your living room and dance a little to get your limbs moving before cleaning. He wants the smile you get when he had texted you goodnight before.
He hops onto the fire escape, climbing up and finding your apartment easy, sitting just below your window. He's tempted to look through it and find you, wave just to see what you'd do. If you would scream and run, if you'd beat his face in. His heart races at the thought of you being so close.
He pulls his phone out of his pocket and huffs as he looks through the cameras he'd installed at your home, seeing you in your pajamas early, the muscle tee and the stripped bottoms. He bites his lip, squeezing his leg as he watches you lean back into your bed and watch the show, your eyes blinking slower and slower till you fall asleep. He gasps, leaning his head back and looks around, fuck, he's late for work. Night shifts aren't typically bad but they are if you're late, and he needs all the money he can get. (Especially after spending so much on the cameras and not on his rent.)
It's a long shift and he's ready to pass out. He barely shrugs his jacket off and sitting on his bed as he tries and fails to take his shoes off. Giving up, he decides to lie down, eyes trained onto the ceiling as his eyes blink slow. He checks your cameras, not finding you in bed but your bathroom light is on, so he's not too worried. You wouldn't leave without him knowing about it. (You had stayed sound asleep, curled into a cute ball while cuddling a pillow. He desperately needs to be that pillow. For science.) He shuts his phone off, leaving it on his chest as his hand snakes underneath his pants. He's too tired to properly get off but it helps relax him further, imagining his hands as yours as he rubs underneath the head and pleasure shivers through his spine. What he'd give to have you on top of him... his hand comes out of his jeans and just rest on his thigh as he sighs one last time.
He slips underneath the sweet blanket of sleep, enjoying the same dream he's had every night since he first met you. One where he busts in, takes your blanket off of you and starts fucking your mouth or your thighs, anything, you'd be his though. You'd tell him through tears to stop but then would beg for him to keep going. It would bring him so close and in the end, he'd wake up, hard and unable to think until he got off.
This time, it felt warmer, a weight settled on his lap and friction against his dick made him shiver. And in the middle of his dream, he became acutely aware of the fact it was a dream but something was definitely happening to him while he was asleep. The weight on his lap rocks, and then- tingles ride his spine, pleasure and he can feel his mouth opening, sighs and whines in the air while there's a cold breeze on him. His eyes open when he feels warm area around his cock until something wraps around his head, fingers tracing up and down his shaft. A moan shudders through him as the scene process quickly.
It's you, you're straddling his lap, having moved him further up on the bed with his cock out of his pants and your lips wrapped around the tip. He cries out when you pull it out and just barely licks from his balls to the tip, making the effort to put as much of him into your mouth before you gag. He says your name, whimpers it out, he's wanted this for so long but- he could've sworn, you never left your apartment, not that he saw. You shush him, a wicked grin on your face as you press a kiss to the head, swirling your tongue around him and giving his cock a proper suck. One of his hands reaches up to touch your head but you just use your hand to press his wrist to the bed. You pull off of him, spit and his pre smeared over your lips. "Did you really think you could put cameras into my house and I wouldn't notice?" His mouth dropped open in shock and he was quick to say something in return when your hand squeezes around him as you lean forward, clicking your tongue.
"I didn't say you could speak.. especially after following me everywhere, and those cameras, and don't think I didn't miss the underwear missing from my drawers." His eyes widen and your smile widens into a grin. "Yeah, forgot about that, didn't you? Did you also forget you were wearing them too?" He didn't have to look down to know the answer. Yes, he stole your underwear and yes he wore them. He couldn't help himself. He loved feeling closer to you in any way he could.
And- and you're actually here. Actually on him and stroking his cock and smiling down at him and calling him a creep, a stalker. It all felt so good- he wanted to pin you down and fuck you till you wouldn't even be able to move but god- his legs feel like jello and he'd let you do anything to him.
"-can't even listen to me when I talk, can you?" You breathe out laughing, smacking his cheeks a little as you lean closer, pressing your plush chest against his and smear his wet cock against your thighs. "You're so fucking pathetic, I didn't even touch you for five minutes and you're already spacing out." You push his face away before moving to get off him, pressing a finger to his chest to keep him lying down. "I didn't say you could move either. God you're dense." He whines when he sees you slide your shorts off, only moving onto his lap after you're stripped completely, giving him the show of your thighs exposed.
"Wanna be good for me?" You ask, stroking his cock again while leaning on his chest, nose to nose while he gasps— you're so close, so warm, so soft, god you smell so good, you feel so so good, he'd do anything you want please just let him kiss you, fuck you, anything. He nods, a whine being pulled out of his throat when you lean close enough just to graze your lips against his before pulling away to sink down onto his cock. His head spins as you coo, sinking completely down and rolling your hips. "I already prepped myself at home, but you didn't see that, did you?" He definitely missed that. How much did he miss?
"Hm... while I have you here," you say, lifting yourself up before sinking down again. The soft, wet heat of your cunt surrounds his senses and he can't think, can't speak, can only mumble words that sound suspiciously like your name. "You're not exactly slick. I know you've been stalking me since June. The cameras since the beginning. I only found out about the underwear right now but I knew they were gone." You roll your hips, moaning out his name, his actual name. "Fuck, Wilbur, couldn't you just ask me out like a normal person? Now we both look weird. With you in my underwear and me breaking into your house after you broke into mine... jesus fucking christ," and he sobs into the air when you start bouncing.
"Don't think it's going to go back the way it was before. You're mine now, got it?" You bounce faster, your voice coming out breathier as you moan between your words. He knows at some point he starts begging but then your hand covers his mouth and you groan into the air. "You'll come when I tell you too, okay?" And he nods, fuck, fuck, you're so warm, so hot, he wants to touch you so bad but he can't- fuck, he squeezes his eyes, trying and trying to hold back the orgasm, doing all he can to hold it back.
You slam down and you shiver, moaning his name into the air, and you squeeze your walls around him and he's sobbing. Pleading and begging to come. It makes you squeeze harder. He needs to, please, fuck just let him please— "go on then, come, come inside me, come inside like a dirty fucking whore." The feeling barrels him over, spilling his come inside of you while you rock your hips, and it quickly crosses into pain instead of pleasure when you start bouncing again. "You gotta make it up to me for all that stalking you did, all those cameras? You're mine, my little toy to use whenever I want."
Hours later, when you're satisfied and you've cleaned the two of you up, you made him promise to take the cameras down and to properly take you on a date. (And upon the admission he went broke for those cameras, you smacked him and planned to edge him the next time you would have sex.)
And hours past that, when you are tucked into his side and his arms are wrapped around your soft tummy, he nudges his nose against your neck, breathing the scent of your skin in. With you deep asleep, he tugs you closer into his chest, arms wrapped tighter. Your ass in his crotch and he can only moan into your neck. You'll be the death of him... but you're his. And even better, he's yours. His heart skips a beat.
Ok um your dub con ask right I saw it and um how about
Gender-neutral chubby reader *cause I am and, and also genderfluid so it'll be good for me if it was gender neutral, if not afab. it's okay if you don't write that chubby reader stuff also!* where simpbur is being teased by them knowing that he's been stalking them (our little greasy simp didn't catch on) and in the middle of night while he's touching in his sleep they grab him by the arm and started to straddle him and degrade him and he may be in shock but he's just like blushing and dying to death and then they have nice steamy night of them ending up together😌.
This is my first ask on your account and I don't know how it all properly works so can I be✏️ anon if you do that. And do you also do other bursonas/ Wilbur soot characters
working on your request right now, but yeah, i don't mind other bursonas like wolfbur and i've seen a witchbur going around like it's fucking good food- yeah other bursonas and characters are good with me. just tell me what you want.
HeyI wwas wondering if you could do a Wolf! Wilbur x fem!reader?
Like Wilbur gets into heat and begs reader to let him fuck them, humping at their leg until reader let's them and then Wilbur fucks Reader endless and then eventually knots them?
Anonymous asked: HeyI wwas wondering if you could do a Wolf! Wilbur x fem!reader? Like Wilbur gets into heat and begs reader to let him fuck them, humping at their leg until reader let's them and then Wilbur fucks Reader endless and then eventually knots them?
yeah why not. here.
trigger warning: dubcon because its a heat and not previously discussed. oblivious reader is left in the dark about wilbur's wolfishness and heats and shit. so. yeah. 18+
(Room)Mates
It's always a simple thing, come home, greet your roommate with lots of hugs and promises of conversations and things would go as smooth as butter. You didn't mind the arrangement, especially with the way he explained it. (Growing up, he had probably the most loving, physically affectionate family in the area. And you didn't mind a pretty boy asking for physical contact all the time. You're probably touch-starved but we won't delve too deep into it.) So this particular night, you had been out a little later, distracted by the dogs outside of your work, they wouldn't move even if you had extra treats in your bag. Not even for your cold lunch.
You admire the dedication but it still set your schedule back by an hour, not to mention, this would be the first time in a week you'd see Wilbur. He had called it a family emergency but his car hasn't let and you could hear noises in his room. Banging on the walls and heavy stuff dropping onto the floor. You'd be concerned if it continued when you were home. It was only ever when you were close to sleeping.
So, as the touch-starved human you are, you were excited to see your roommate, excited to see his fluffy brown hair fall into his eyes and excited to him laugh at your day. He was going to love this cheesy joke you overheard, you bite down on your smile, fishing for your keys in your bag.
Sliding the key into the door and jiggling it within the metal, you push your weight into it with your shoulder. It opens with a creak of resistance, swinging only a little bit as you stumble.
His car had been in the same spot as it had been but you could see that bedroom door was open. "Ah, sorry I'm late Wilbur, you should've seen it, the strays at work are getting bad again. And they're stubborn, wouldn't even move for the wrap I had. And you know where I get my wraps, from that little place next door so you know they were feeling spiteful from last spring." You speak in rambles, setting down your things by the coffee table and cracking your spine as you relax. You talk into the air, as if you weren't about to talk to him for the first time in a week. You hear padded footsteps and you can feel the heat radiating off of him as he gets closer and closer to you in the kitchen. You paid him no mind, already aware of how clingy he can get but when you reach into the cabinet above your head, you feel his body slide against yours, his crotch grounding against your ass as you lean onto your heels. It's an entire body reaction— from the curse words that fall from your mouth, you pushing him away and him whining.
"Fucking hell, what the fuck is going on, Wilbur?" The words fall from your mouth faster than you can think and he's just too much— too warm, too close, and too sweaty, what the fuck— the lower part of your back meets the counter and he slots his leg in between yours, rocking his hips and- fuck, he's so hard, he's fucking hard and he's fucking humping your leg. Clearing your head of the panic, you can hear him babbling, see the drool falling from the corners of his lips. "Need- need you so bad, heart, need t'be inside you, s'hot right now, you're so hot." And of course, he kept repeating about how he needed to knot you, how he just needed to breed you and make you so full of his pups. "Smell- you smell so good-" he moans into the air as he digs his nose into your hair.
How is this shit— whatever the fuck is going on with Wilbur, how is it so hot?
"Wilbur, look at me." You say, pinching his cheeks together where his lips purse and the drool spills onto your wrist, you can't even hold back the grimace, "what's going on with you?"
"S'sooooo warm, need- hah, need to fuck you full with my pups, please I'll be so good for you," his hips start rocking against your leg again and you can only shudder as his words slip under your skin and warm your insides. "Please let me fuck you, please please, just the tip, just the tip and I'll leave you alone, please baby, please, I need you- need you so bad, fuck you're so so-fffttttttt, fuck, please-" you slap a hand onto his mouth, your face burning except it doesn't do much, his moan vibrates through your hand and he starts to lick the salt off of your palm and in between the crevices in your fingers.
"God, Wilbur, you're a fucking- mess." You say as you push his head away and it just rolls on his neck, tears bubbling in his eyes as his mouth is still dropped open. He sinks to his knees, still grinding his crotch against your leg and it's so different to the Wilbur you know. (Well, he's still clingy and touchy as ever but he's so fucking horny right now, like- shit.) You wonder if somebody did something, like poison him with a sex thing or if he's sick or if he just... really missed you. Yeah, hard pass on the last bit.
His head leans against your thigh, inhaling so deeply and you realize a little too late that his nose is close to where your own pelvis is, close to your crotch. And before you can stop him, he starts licking at your cunt through your pants. Your mouth drops open into a gasp, sparks of pleasure running through your spine as you accidentally widen your stance, his hands coming to grip your sides, your thighs and squeezing, feeling your skin as he pushes your top up. His touch burns hot.
His tongue is all you can focus on for the next minute as he continues to lick, your hands burying themselves in his hair. And when you clench a chunk of hair in your fists, your hips twitching as they rock against his mouth, you can only let out a sharp whine yourself, his own moans vibrating against the fabric. The pants get so wet, you're almost concerned if he hadn't already started pulling them down. Your thighs are hit with the apartment's air conditioner breeze and you push his face back, even as he whimpers, pressing his cheek to your naked leg. ("Soft.. so fucking soft." You can barely hear him mutter.)
"Wilbur," you say, and he looks up at you with those big eyes, his mouth dropped open with his tongue dragging itself up your thigh, coating your skin with a wet warmth. "Wilbur, promise me this won't change anything." His fingers tighten themselves over your skin and he nods fast, words dripping from his lips with promises to be good, good for you and to you.
"Love you so much, god, you're so perfect, you're so warm. So, so warm." He repeats himself, hips rocking again.
You swallow the dread and you tell yourself, things will be okay. Things will go back to normal. Things will be simple again. Wilbur will go back to being your overly affectionate roommate and none of this will mean anything.
Which means you definitely can't fuck him in your bed.
"C'mon then. Your room." He stands up so quick, pulling on your hands and guiding you to the room at the end of the apartment. Even when you start tripping from the pants still around your knees, though he just pulls them down so you can step out of them... where he picks you up with strength you don't know where the fuck it came from just how he presses you against the wall next to the door and moans into your mouth, kissing you and licking your teeth and pressing himself closer and closer.
It's a blur of wet and burning and hot and fuck- but you know the second he's inside you, you feel the stars in your blood, you feel something that's much bigger than you or him, bigger than this apartment or the complex. Maybe that's just how sex is. (How sex is when your bed-mate is someone completely, insanely hot and probably has the sex version of rabies.) He covers your skin in marks, biting them and pistoning his cock inside of your cunt, listening to your needs. Moving as fast as you needed him and and as slow as you needed.
Time continued, and you had to estimate it'd been an hour or so after you let him first test the waters; let him stroke the tip of his cock between your lips and watching as he cried into your hands, kissing his tears away, you did. Because he's a big sap and you're nothing but a good for nothing roommate (-that's in love with him.)
He's not any softer than before, he's still so- so hard. Despite coming twice on your stomach twice (and cleaning his mess every time) he's still so fucking hard it makes it hard to think with how far his cock sinks inside of you.
You know at some point, after it hits the second hour and he's still brutally pounding your cunt to shreds, you feel something twitch the base of his dick. You can hardly speak though, with how you screamed his name into his pillow... soaking the pillowcase with your own spit and gripping it hard as he fucks you again and again. You notice the twitch and it's only when he picks the pace up again, moaning into your shoulder and biting so hard you think the skin breaks, you can feel a stretch happening, something big itching to bury itself into your cunt. You gasp, the sound a scratchy thing as it pops inside, tears falling fast down your cheeks as he is locked inside of you, with his chest against your back and he's mumbling sweet things, promises to fill you up and promises to make you feel good again, promises and more promises.
You can hardly focus as it quickly became too much, your sobbing buries itself into his hand as you lean into his touch, trying to count down from any number but nothing is fucking working.
"Wilbur- what- what the fuck is happening, Wilbur?"
Something between a sob and a moan escapes his own mouth as he leans closer to your ear, "I just- fuck. I just knotted you. It'll- it'll go down in a second. Try not to ah, ah- move." His hand pins your hip down, despite being the only one trying to move. "So, so beautiful." He murmurs and you just let it soak, let the attention and the harsh fucking sink into your skin. There is so much to process. So much to sift through.
That's a tomorrow's problem... and you should probably call in tomorrow.
Anonymous asked: ok 🫣🫣 reader reading a * spicy * book and wilbur seeing them…. hehe
Mhm mhm, i see your point. Enjoy
trigger warning: the book you are reading has explicit smut in it and well its a little filthy at the end. but 18+.
brought to you by wil-dearest, may i present absolute horseshit
Kiss the Cook
In your defense, the book had been gifted to you by an older cousin who gave you a sly wink, telling you to enjoy. Your love for reading wasn't private information and had this been any other occasion and not your birthday, you most likely would've never read it. (Somehow, your relatives never get what you like. So they sit on a bookshelf as they collect dust and you sit on the idea of donating them.) And also because your cousin texted you saying the main lead was your type. And so if he was?
Here we are, three months after your birthday and you're sitting on at the dining table, reading. Your boyfriend, Wilbur, had been sweet enough that he wanted to make dinner by himself. And with the free time that's been so generously given, you give the book a shot.
Big mistake, after the first two chapters, it gets steamy.
Her head tipped back, with Jeremy's mouth teasing her skin, every touch and every bite he leaves spins her vision. "You understand now, what you do to me is torture." Even his voice, vibrating against the column of her throat, her mouth parts with a gasp. She does understand now.
She can't focus clearly but with the way his hands burn as they grip her thighs, wrapping them around his waist and his cock bumping against her entrance, it's as if her nerves had been lit on fire. The first push drives her nails into his skin and he smooths her hair down, hardly biting his moans back. "Ever since I met you," he gasps, interrupting himself as his hips twitch, "I couldn't get you out of my head. You consumed my being, every waking second." Maybe it'd been the wine, maybe it'd been the careless flirting because why would it ever be more than flirting remarks, it doesn't matter. All Nikki knows right now is how good it feels with him inside her.
You had to put the book down for a moment and cover your face, giggling a little bit to yourself. What the fuck had that been? You peek through fingers and eye the book, biting down on a bottom lip. You'll continue, you decided. Picking up the book, though, Wilbur came out to greet you, his hair a little run-through, like he was pulling the edges again. "How's the book?" He asks, smiling as he leaned in for a quick kiss. Your eyes closed as you hummed, not at all hiding your blush and your smile.
"It's not what I thought it was going to be." You answer, not at all wanting to admit that you just found out the book you're reading leans more into the erotic genre.
"Different?" He asks, his hand coming up and cupping the back of your head as he kissed your cheek. You nod. "And not a bad different?" He kisses your other cheek, drinking up your soft laughter. "Good, then you know where to find me," he pulls back, smiling at you. His thumb comes up to graze your cheek, where he kissed it. He kisses you one last time before heading back inside the kitchen.
You sigh dreamily, wondering how you ever managed to charm him with your tendencies to be a hermit. It cannot be helped, you'll just have to accept you've accidentally cursed him or something. Moving on from real life romance, you turn your eyes back down to the inconspicuous novel. It couldn't hurt to read a little more.
About thirty minutes later, Wilbur decides he's taken long enough and serves two bowls, taking the steaming meals and finding you so engrossed into the novel, you hadn't even noticed him. Now he's not one to be jealous of a book, but just how good can it be when it wasn't your taste? (Yes, he'd been privy to that lovely rant with relatives and their gifting habits.)
He comes around and he had to double-check his eyes were working before he came to terms with the truth. You've been reading erotica.
He starts to mumble the words, "Nikki sobs as she tries to clenches her thighs," you gasp, your head looks over your shoulder, unable to move too much to avoid hitting his head, "overwhelmed by the constant pleasure. His tongue was simply too much, circling her clit and sucking on it before moving the two fingers inside of her again-" you drop the book, covering his mouth even as he tries to read it still, and you had little doubt you look flustered beyond all reason.
"What are you doing!?" You shriek, turning in your seat as you hid your face in his neck, trying to strangle and simultaneously hug him. His laughter is a deep vibration that tickles you while you held onto him, your own nerves lit on fire as his arms circle around your waist.
"Well I came to tell you dinner was ready," he nods to the steaming bowls and then his teasing eyes turned back to you and you dive your head back into his collarbones, "but you didn't even see me. I could see why now."
"Hush." Your voice comes out muffled and you do nothing to make yourself clearer.
"Dinner could always wait and we can recreate the scene in your book." He says pulling away from you and before you can say anything, he's dropped to his knees, his hair falling into his big eyes that stare into you as he nudges his face between your legs. You could hardly breathe with how he gets so close to your crotch, how his smile widens when he kisses your thigh and grips the other one with his- his fingers and you curse yourself for being so sensitive because all you want to do is moan his name. You cover your mouth even when he licks a stripe down the crotch of your jeans. You feel yourself trembling.
"Actually," he says, getting up a dizzying fashion, "I'll make sure to get dessert after dinner." His smile is downright predatory. How are you supposed to eat after all that?
trigger warnings: 18+ for sure. stalking, duh, but still, be careful. gender-neutral reader. non-con, because you're asleep, so again, be careful while reading. leaning into simpbur. sorry. also mentions of suicide ideation, so there's that.
wil-dearest presents:
The Angels Made You For Me
If he'd been counting the days since he's started following you home, he would say it'd be a problem. But since his nasty habit began, he could confidently say it's been going on too long, perhaps, without much to show for it. He knows everything about you, about your schedule, about your habits, your friends- fucking. Everything.
He would consider trying to be more subtle about it but several times you've seen him, made direct eye contact with him and smiled, and yet nothing. He hasn't been arrested, hadn't been tackled by a concerned friend. Nothing has happened. And despite his lucky track, he still wanted more, wanted more from you.
He saw you first in the spring, when the flowers were blooming and he'd been in the park like you, except it was supposed to be his last day. His last day to live because, quite simply, nothing was really that fucking worth it anymore. Not the media, the music, definitely not the people, nature wasn't his last chance to convince him everything would be peaches and rainbows, it was his last meal. (Not physically, he'd ate two days ago and he could almost feel his ribs.) This was his last peaceful moment. He hadn't been entirely sure how he was going to go out, by gun or by jumping or by a vehicle- the possibilities were endless and with some sort of end in sight, it was easier to breathe in the park air and look around.
There you'd been, sitting with on a picnic blanket with a dog, bathing underneath the careful sun and soaking the day in. He had a brief moment of euphoria when you opened your squinting eyes completely and smiled, waving hello at him. Your smile froze him in his spot, where he'd been walking down the path and you tilted your head as he continued to stare. He started walking again, head forced to look straight as he tried to will away the blush dusting his cheeks and ears, as his mind couldn't focus on anything but your smile and the way you looked so damn... happy. Peaceful. Downright angelic, even.
Light footsteps crunch on the gravel louder and louder until they stopped behind him and he feels a tap on his shoulder. Turning around, it's you, your smile not as bright but just as genuine as your hand held out a phone. He sucked in a breath from his teeth, reaching out to take out the familiar device. He hadn't meant to but his fingers grazed your own and he couldn't help the way his heart leapt into his chest. Why was he feeling this way? Why was his chest contracting and why couldn't he breathe any easier? You said something and he feels almost bad when he asks you to repeat yourself.
Your smile widens as you glance downwards at your feet before looking up at him, "I said you better be careful with that thing, people won't always return it, you know." He nods.
"But you did," he says, rushed like he hadn't meant to say it at all.
Your smile doesn't dim, doesn't shrink, it deepens and he can see the beginnings of a laugh bubble inside of you. "I almost didn't." You say, and a hand reaches up to cover your mouth as you back up, laughing. Then you wave and you say goodbye and walk away back to your dog and your picnic blanket.
An old movie scratches inside of his head and it's as if he was transported back in time, listening to the music play and watching you sit back down, scratching the dog's back.
So this is love.
This particularly night, yes he lied he kept count, marks the six month since you had saved his life. Truly, without you, he would've been dead. He would've been another person to sink into the earth, forgotten and rotted. He would've taken his life and parted everyone with but a stench to his name.
There are days he regrets it but when he sees you again, it puts things in perspective.
So, he wants to do something special. He wants to be near you again. Following you home doesn't necessarily mean anything if he's more than a block away, keeping to himself and making sure no one else fucks with you. (If you deserved anything, it would be a peaceful, uneventful walk from the gas station to your home. And he would make sure of it a hundred, thousand times.)
It doesn't take much planning, he already knows so much about you already, if anything, slipping into your house feels... easy. Natural, despite it being anything but. In the end, it doesn't matter because your home is warm and smells so good, he knows you cooked before bed. Stepping lightly, he traces the walls with his fingers, taking in every detail he couldn't before, the photos framed on the wall, the decorations that, yes may be early, but you deserve happiness where you found it. Fall and Halloween, though already on the cusp of falling into season already, would have to be an everyday thing with how much you loved it so much. He wouldn't mind. He would never mind.
Your door already half-way opened, he peered around the edge, eyeing the form in your bed. It was you. You never took anybody home. (As if you knew he would be yours in the end, his mind whispers, logic bending and melding to his rose-colored feelings.) Never slept in anything more than a large, loose shirt. He doesn't immediately step in, watches as your chest rises and falls with every passing moment. You're... bewitching. Being near scratches an itch he only recently figured out. Being near you is so peaceful and so nerve-wracking at the same time, heart pounding, beating against the cages of his ribs, begging to tear its way out and settle into your hands, that were of no doubt, softer than any fabric the world could manufacture.
He steps into your room, hands shaking as they come up to lightly graze the walls in there too. With every step he takes closer to your bed, the more his hands shake and the more he chokes on his heart. There are thoughts racing inside his head, begging to leave and begging to leave you forever but how can he leave when you've done so much for him already? How can he leave right now, right now when he's come so far? He's lived without you for so long, he's not sure he can accept a life without being near you again.
The intoxicating scene of your room dizzies his head, spins his vision till he almost collapses over you, managing to catch himself after his knees buckled under his weight. You breathe deeply in and with every bated breath, he watches as you sigh out, shuffling in your sleep as your neck extends the other way, leaving it bare to him.
His head spins further as he releases a stolen breath, choosing to stand stock still, eyes catching onto any new detail he could see now, even in the dark. His fingers come over the edge of your bed and they burn when they touch your bare arm. Warm, soft. Just like he'd thought, like he remembered. His free hand comes up to cover his mouth, imagining it as yours and imagines that you've caught him, that you flip him onto the bed on his back, straddling his hips and pressing with a warm hand into his underwear, whispering sweet things into his neck and before he realizes it, his hand that had touched you- it had retracted back to his body, slipping underneath his pants and briefs, and squeezes around his cock. He almost couldn't contain himself, feeling the hardest he'd ever been, wanting nothing more than to sink the tip between your lips and send his seed down your throat. He wanted nothing more than that. The hand that covered his mouth lowered down, reaching out to brush the hair away from your neck, out of your face.
He leans down and inhales, soaking in how close you are, how you overwhelm his senses completely. His tongue darts out to wet his lips when an idea flashed in his head. It's there for a second before he leans closer, his tongue relishing in the taste of your skin, how hot you burn and how you sign against his touch, almost arching into it. He presses a kiss there and you move in your sleep again, almost hitting him in the process of batting whatever the hell was tickling you.
It's too much, too fast. His come coats the inside of his underwear and he has to pull away before he groans right into your ear.
He can't get any closer without waking you but you were nowhere near being ready for him. He slips out of your bedroom door, lips burning from where he kissed you. Yes, he kissed your sleeping face, from your forehead and cheeks, nose and chin to your lightly parted mouth. It didn't even last three seconds before he had to pull away, dragging himself out of your home and towards his.
His heart is pounding inside his chest but he knows you hold it, even whilst sleeping. And he hopes to one day hold yours.
want to get in drag and kiss the fuck out of wilbur, watch him be so attracted to you and want to see your lipstick smeared on both your face and his. want to fuck him so nasty. want to be in heels and fuck his brains out, want him to rip the fishnet on your legs and just. yeah. fuck nasty and fuck wild.
