Yes Yes And Yes

‘WILSON WAS JUST AS COMPLEX OF A CHARACTER AS HOUSE!!! HE WAS JUST AS FUCKED UP AS THE REST OF THEM IF NOT MORE!!! HE WAS NOT ALL SUNSHINE AND RAINBOWS!!! HE WAS JUST AS IMPERFECT’ i yell as they drag me back into the asylum

hilson is so funny because it's Wilson going "we're not gay" and house going "he's lying btw lol" and simultaneously rsl going "house and Wilson aren't gay it's just bromance and everybody is too obsessed with yaoi" and Hugh Laurie going "house and Wilson probably fuck raw and cuddle afterwards"

mmm we share a love for perv wilson… i would love to hear more of your thoughts on him. ;)

-💌

anon can we makeout instead? I'm not asking for a friend I asking for ME because we're too alike

YESSSS GIVE ME PERV WILSON ALL DAY HES SO UGHH

like this man is so so nasty in the bedroom and I LOVE it. I think that he would be very different in bed compared to his usual people pleasing, kind attitude. instead he would be mean and sadistic. he tell you that you're nothing but a slut for him, he'd made you cry, he'd slap you and then kiss your cheek because he's still himself in the end.

you're his release. his play thing. his toy. and let me tell you, he does NOT share. (house can be an exception on occasion) if he sees you talking to another guy, or if you mention one of your male coworkers, his jealousy goes insane. the best part about his jealousy is the way he fucks you after. he's rough, careless, and unforgiving. (he never loses his pleasure dom ways you're still going to cum atleast 3 times) he throws you around like you're weightless, he fucks your face until you're sure you're going to throw up. he'd leave the most disgusting hickeys on you, in places that are impossible to cover up. (house does more of this imo lmk if I should dedicate a post to him) he would make you beg for him, make you beg for him to touch you.

he loves how much you'll do for him. he thinks it's the hottest thing in the world. he'll buy you slutty outfits to wear around his friends, knowing that you’ll do anything he asks, just so he can show off what's his. (this led to a fun night with him and house)

if he had a bad day you better be waiting in bed when he gets home. because he has no mercy, taking all of his frustrations out on you. if you do something he doesn't think is appropriate, he'd be so mean that you'd cry while he fucks you. if you get too loud he'd shove his thumb in your mouth and tell you how much of a slut you are since you can't seem to shut up, how you must want everyone in the building to know what he's doing to you. (though I think he is a bit of an exhibitionist and he also wants everyone to know what he's doing to you, he gets off more on the control of forcing you to be quiet)

more on his exhibitionism, he'd love doing things to you in his office. that could be fingering you, eating you out, or fucking you. this all started with you sucking his dick in his office, under his desk while he was doing paperwork. it was amazing until house barged into his office, demanding to know why his door was locked and complaining that he was forced to use the balcony door. Wilson hadn't been thinking about locking that door since it never gets used. he starts to panic, knowing how house reads people, especially him. he glances back down at his paperwork, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. you continue to suck his dick despite his pulling of your hair. he swallows his moans with clenched teeth. house suddenly stops his sentence, turning his full attention to Wilson. "what's got you so flustered?" house says with a smirk before unlocking Wilson's door and hobbling down the hallway. for once, closing the door behind him.

he's so insecure, but it somehow adds to his appeal

okay 💌 anon I love you

1.1k words, cunnilingus, stressed out jimmy

hungry, horned up, stressed wilson can only cope with messy pussy eating. even when he wants to take, he's actually giving. for someone whose an amalgam of neediness and want, he was never good at expressing it, but one day he just breaks down.

"i- i just really need you right now" he basically sighs his words into the emptied glass. a few drops of water trickle down his jaw and chin. the singular kitchen light illuminates his sheer neediness.

"aww baby, of course," you say, as you gesture him to your lap. some semblance of pride swells up in you. you're taking care of wilson. and not the other way round like he always insists. you're proud of him for admitting that he wants you, needs you, for the first time ever.

he rushes near you, opting for the empty spot on the floor beneath your legs rather than the one beside you. he clutches onto your legs like a raft at first. like he's drowning and youre the only thing keeping him afloat. something in your heart sinks seeing him like this. you smooth his soft brown hair, running your hair through his greying streaks. his puppy dog eyes, the gentleness in them.

he whimpers to your touch, nuzzling his face into your lap. shivers run down your back as the sound reverberates in your core. his hands run up and down your calves. you try scratching his back, his neck, his scalp with your nails. his hands start ascending up your legs, now grabbing handfuls of your thighs to knead and grope.

wilson shifts uncomfortably below you. you finally pay attention to his semi. seems a bit painful, honestly. some part of you just wants him to lose control. just this once. fuck whatever it is that bothered him so much into you with whatever energy he may have. god, you want him to use you so bad.

he starts planting wet, desperate kisses onto the inside of your thighs. you instinctively close your thighs around his head, chest heaving with this sudden wave of arousal flowing through you. as he works his way up, a small, almost inaudible "please" escapes his lips amidst the kisses. he's using more teeth now. you slowly stand up and let him undress your lower body. he takes off your shorts and panties in slow tugs and bundles them up to use as padding for his knees. he looks up at you, almost like he worships you, like you're some savior of his. something makes it hard for you to swallow.

wilson tugs you down onto the couch, maybe with a bit more force than he intended, really. his hot breathe makes your joints weak. thoughts of everything he's about to do make it feel like you've lost all control of your muscles.

"wet." he huffs the single syllable between your thighs like a caveman. "so wet."

remarkable observation.

that's all he can mutter out. the sight, the smell, the access; it all made him so hard it ached him. he yanks your cunt closer to his face and gives it a sloppy kiss. you writhe.

his tongue comes next, licking a cold strip on your heat. he buries his face in there, trying to savor your taste on his tongue before going at it again. he taste tests your cunt a couple of times to hear you groan.

but then an unknown devil possesses him. he moves the pace of his tongue from a gentle wine tasting to a rabid feast. god, this man was starved all of a sudden. you yelped in protest, he only moaned into you as a response. every beat resonating through you. he laps you up, tongue reaching front to back and prodding deep inside your hole.

"oh baby, james- i- slower-"

his lips only suckle at your bundle of nerves. your eyes now overflow with tears of burning desire. werent you supposed to help him relax? his nose presses against the hood of your clit, jittering with his exhales that seemed to shake through his jaws too. he was really panting like a dog. all you could do was moan in desperation, your volcanic orgasm burning inside your core, waiting to erupt.

"need it. need you. thank fuck-" he groans into your pussy.

and then he does it. his iron grip on your thigh loosens as he brings his fingers perilously close to your cunt. james- cant- please baby, please rang through you. his sucking, licking and teasing rendered you incapable of putting out any cohesive sentences. you could simply beg. beg for an out, a release to tension building inside of you. his other hand is gone from your thighs too, moved down south to take care of the leaking tent in his office pants.

his little moans leaking out of his pretty lips, coupled with the two fingers inside you and the ever-steady tongue... oh you were about to explode.

"i'm so close, baby, fuckkk- i- i- please keep- ahhh"

a rush flowed through you. you tensed for a moment on his tongue. his fingers. then your spine decompressed. you let go. this felt so good, he felt so good. everything he did.

you tugged on his hair hard. he looked up. what a sight.

his eyes... bit glossy, much like his lips. you could kill him in this moment and he'd thank you, maybe even ask you to do it all over again. his jaw tensed. he looked up at you with an innocence you wouldn't expect from a man who still had two fingers inside you, you slick covering his lips like gloss. he licked them. as much as he hated you for pulling him back to reality in this moment, he could only stare at your flushed face, thanking him for his hard work between your legs with huffs and pants.

a stupid smile tugs at the corners of his glistening mouth. cocky. you like cocky. after all he deserves to feel this way after how he made you feel. he spills his seed in his pants. all after seeing your mouth wide open, cheeks flushed. he did that. he licks your taste off his fingers and wipes his jaw with his forearm. it drives you up the wall.

he gets up to clean you. you look at him with concern in your eyes for a second. is he okay? is this what he needed? certainly what you needed after those long nights being alone. he gets the tissues from the adjacent table.

"i- thank you"

you gape at him. did he just.... thank you?

YOU CANNOT PLAY SOFT MUSIC WHILE IMPLYING THAT WILSON PREFERS HOUSE’S COMPANY OVER HIS WIFE’S ON CHRISTMAS AND NOT EXPECT THE FANS TO THINK THIS IS SUBTEXT THAT HOUSE AND WILSON ARE EACH OTHERS FAMILY.

Twink Robert Sean Leonard this, young Robert Sean Leonard that

Can we all just stop and appreciate older, mature Robert Sean Leonard with a beard. Fuck.

house md is the only fandom by far that i like because I hate all of them but I also love them. like chase, i fucking hate your guts, but I also love you. you're so pathetic. cameron, get a grip, you're falling apart girl. you also scare me. foreman, you're just a dick. i fucking love that. wilson, you're also falling apart, like real bad. also, you're gay as hell, stop getting married. lisa cuddy.....you're the only i like. but you're also a pushover sometimes, but I'll forgive you. and oh. do we even have to talk about house. no. no we don't.

you ever read a fanfic that’s so good that you want to kiss the author and their beautiful mind

I like how Wilson always either looks like a guilty dog who’s just been told off for chewing up slippers or like he just got his rocks off and hasn’t quite recovered yet, no middle ground

im like... sick and twisted over sugar daddy wilson who's enjoying his pretty young thing more than he ever anticipated. he's paying your tuition, half your rent and anything else, that you could adorn yourself with. every weekend he makes sure to taking you on a shopping spree, something that wasn't in your deal but he just really likes to see you happy. and also he gets one hell of a show each time.

something about basically paying you, more gifts than cash, dissolves his sexual inhibitions. you won't leave. you can't. he can, if he wants to, be less nice to you. he can fuck the way he was always scared to fuck, do the things he was scared to do with his girlfriends. but you're not his girlfriend, you're his sugar baby. there's a difference, no matter how much he listens to you talk incoherently about your interests, no matter how many nights you sleep over. he doesn't have to treat you like an equal. it's oddly emancipating, the idea of doing whatever he wants with you. the freedom to. unrestrained like he never was. a pet dog without his leash who gets to run wild but keeps pawing his neck, the feeling of the leash.

but he's still restrained. he's a gentleman, he's programmed that way. he would never go beyond your limits, never. when he fucks you particularly rough, the kind that makes your legs weak for days and leaves you feeling the ghost of his dick inside you every time you squeeze your legs, he buys you something particularly expensive. he just can't take without giving. you like it, of course you do, even though you tell him you like the way he fucks you too. he shouldn't apologize for prioritizing his pleasure. you're not his girlfriend, you are his sex doll. the one he likes to dress up in skimpy designer clothes he bought with his hard earned oncologist money.

you're starting to feel bad, kind of, because you're growing quite fond of him. it's impossible not to. he's the only man who isnt a pig. but this... this arrangement negates the idea of anything real ever happening. sometimes you both stay awake dwelling on the possibility at the same time, unbeknownst to each other. his heart beats precariously fast as his hand crawls into your palm one night, wanting so desperately to hold it.

he doesn't know how this thing is going to end.

when his analyst furrows his brows at the receipts from hermes and dior and chanel, he just shrugs. he can't help it, you're the most beautiful financial liability in the world.