there is only us | wilbur soot x reader

Chapter 30 - Need

(Y/n) POV

I couldn't breathe. It was such a simple thing, really, an instinct, something I had taken for granted, hardly even thought about.

No, of course, you don't think about breathing until you can't anymore. Until you're drowning. And that's what this was, surely. Drowning. Suffocating, maybe. Pressed against Wilbur, frozen from the moment we met. My heart was climbing into my throat, pounding against my skin, pushing and shoving and trying to break free. All I could think, as I leaned ever closer into him, was, oh, oh, oh.

I was suffocating in him. I couldn't think of anything else, couldn't hear, see, feel, taste anything else. It was all-encompassing, all-consuming. He was everywhere at once, and it felt like I was floating in space. I couldn't breathe. There is no air in space. All I could think, as his hand crept up my side and his teeth pulled at my bottom lip, was, this wouldn't be such a terrible way to die.

And then I thought, if I die, this ends, and I'd never wanted to live more. It spurred me into motion, forced air into my lungs. My mouth fell open under Wilbur's and my blood turned to liquid gold, and I felt like he could have cut me open and torn me apart and left my parts scattered and I would bleed for him and hope he found it beautiful.

I pushed my hands into his hair, holding on like I was desperately trying not to be swept away. I tightened my grip as Wilbur's fingers found their way under the hem of my shirt, and the quiet groan that slipped out made me lose my mind a little.

You wanted me, Wilbur had said. And I suppose I had, without even realizing it. It made perfect sense; connected all the dots, like pointing out a constellation. It seemed glaringly obvious then, something amazing hidden in plain sight.

I felt out of control. My mind had stopped, my lungs had stopped, and my heart seemed to be working overtime to compensate. One of his hands wrapped around my hair and I shivered. A soft tug and I gasped. An opening, a brush of tongue, and I had to grip the front of Wilbur's shirt just to hold on, just to keep myself upright.

Wilbur kissed like he did everything else; with a sense of determination. It felt almost punishing, like he had been keeping all of this emotion inside of him and needed to release it. He bit and pushed and pulled. It felt like we were fighting our own battle. It felt like I was losing.

I broke away, gasping for air. I was lightheaded and dizzy and a little bit of a mess. Wilbur chased my mouth, but when I tilted my head away he found purchase on my neck. Using what little leverage I had, I pulled him off of me with the hand I had buried in his hair. He went willingly, eyes lidded and mouth swollen, soft noises dropping from his parted lips. I relished in the guilty pleasure of feeling as wrecked as he looked.

You wanted me. Of course I did. How could I not? When he was standing before me like this, open and raw and dazed and greedy, how could I not? When his hand was grazing my ribs, trailing over each divot like he was counting them, climbing higher and higher and- "Wilbur," I chided, wrapping a hand around his wrist to stop his progress.

His eyes dipped shut. "God, (Y/n), I love it when you say my name."

The corner of my mouth quirked upwards in a small smirk. "Wilbur," I whispered. He groaned, and it was a strangled sort of sound.

"Wilbur," I chanted, reveling in this newfound power. "Wilbur, Wilbur, Wilbur."

His eyes snapped open to glare at me. "(Y/n)."

"Wilbur."

"Please, (Y/n). You're killing me." And, okay. So I like it when men beg. I was learning all sorts of things today, wasn't I? I let my head fall forward into the curve of his neck, giggling breathlessly. It felt like a private moment, just for the two of us. It felt like a secret. I wanted to scream it at the world. I want him, I wanted to yell. I want him and he wants me, and what is more glorious than that?