and i'd give up forever to touch you || Wilbur x Reader

just the two of us

music blasts out of the speakers, trying to distract himself from what he had, hopefully, successfully pulled off. as long as they haven't called or texted him about it, he can almost be sure they had no idea. which, is the best outcome he could hope for.

he almost feels bad for you, if you knew even a little more about him, you would've never even talked to him. for your sake, some people would argue. didn't matter now, not when you've been nothing but nice and friendly with him. he doesn't know what to make of it, but he does hope that hangouts like those happen again.

pulling into the apartments area, he turns the music down, excited for the main reason he went home, and at the same time, absolutely terrified for anything that could go wrong.

after he parked his car and scurried inside, he starts his laptop up and tried to remember to breathe.

digging his hand in his backpack, he pulls out a flash drive, plugging it into the port before leaning into his chair, covering his eyes with one hand as he tries to remember why he did this in the first place. for rosie, he absently thinks, and just as quickly as he had doubted his reasons, it is waved away with a ping on his computer.

when the program starts up, he sees an empty room, the view showing a bed with a desk right next to it. his heart skips a beat as he sees the disheveled sheets, the shadow moving on the wall the bed is shoved against, against the lamp light in the background he couldn't see.

shoving his hand into his pocket he pulls out the black, lacy underwear, and turned it around in his hands, breathing heavily as he lifted them to his nose, smelling her on the cloth. he whines, keeping an eye on the computer as he fumbles fishing out his dick out of his pants. taking the panties and putting them over his dick, he could feel his brain blink in and out of coherency.

picturing her being there herself, sitting in his lap, taking him so nicely as she whispered praises into his ear. telling him how good he is for her, how she knows how much he's wanted this.

he whimpers as she leaves marks up and down his neck, purple blooming as she continues to make him feel good, and continues to moan his name out every time he bottoms out in her. she feels nothing like he's ever felt, almost as if he's ascended into heaven is with an angel instead. it's too good to be real, to be human. she has to be an angel.

he's begging her to let him touch her, to make her feel good, but she holds his wrists down, telling him that if he waits, if he's patient, he'll get everything he wants.

and a blink of an eye, he's still in his apartment without her, and her underwear wrapped around his dick as he pumps it up and down, feeling infinitely worse and somehow, he tips over the edge as he sees a figure sit down on the bed. eyes snap close as he cums in his hand and the panties.

feeling a little worse for wear, he opens his eyes and cleans his mess up with the underwear, tearing off his pants and underwear to take to the washer. and as he's making his way past the computer, he has to do double-take.

wait.

hold on.

hold a fucking minute.

that's not rosie.

he steps backwards but trips on his own feet, the air pushed out of his lungs as he lands on his back. and for a moment, he stays there, too afraid to check to see the truth.

because he got the underwear from the room he set the cameras up in.

oh fucking hell, he bemoans as he covers his face, feeling as the skin around his face and neck burn with embarrassment.