Call Me Your God
Wilbur x Schlatt
Listen I- I had another fic planned but this one just happened- I got an urge and my brain said HYPER ADHD FOCUS NOW DO and I did it. This whole fic is kind of a wreck butttt :flushed: :flushed:
Warnings:
- graphic depictions of semi-toxic relationships
- vague mention of past trauma
- masochist wilbur
- sadist schlatt
- blood play
- knife play
- CNC- esque, it starts off kinda sus
- fighting
- semi fear play
- schlatt has a god complex and it just kinda- idek
- safeword use (in the end)
- lmk if theres something else i should add
If you are kinda sensitive towards these topics, just be Careful and be safe ily guys
or send me hate comments i think theyre hot lol,
2.6k words
Oh curse Wilbur's stupid, terrible habit. Lying, he was always fucking lying about something, and he damn right knew how to tell the truth. Little white lies, every time he ever said anything, and that's exactly how he found himself in such a situation. Hands cuffed in front of his stomach, his back pressed into the mattress, and a look of pure fear in his eyes as his fuming partner stood above him.
"Tell me, Will, what did I say would happen if I ever caught you lying to me again? What the FUCK did I tell you, Wilbur?"
Wilbur could feel himself quivering as tears pooled in his eyes, his lip trembling as he attempted to speak. "You said- You said I would get punished for it." He whispered, pushing himself back against the headboard of their shared bed, the comforter scrunching up underneath his bare feet.
"Speak up, what did I fucking tell you?" Schlatt roared, a low growl in his voice as he slammed his hands down on the foot of the bed, making the curly haired Brit flinch and draw back.
Things ended up like this regularly, so it wasn't out of the ordinary for them to be yelling and fighting with each other. But they both did it on purpose, and with no intention of actually hurting the other. They both played into the other's sick fantasies, claiming it to be a form of coping. Schlatt would get violent and manhandle Wilbur until he was done, and Wilbur would bitch and brat and cry, just to make him even more mad. Sometimes, the roles would even switch. Then, when it was all over, they would hold each other until the next morning.
Of course they had a safeword that either of them could use if the scene needed to stop, and many of times they had both went too far and accidentally forced the other into sobbing out the word "yellow". Sometimes it was the emotional toll of it all, or sometimes it was the fact that they just couldn't keep going.
And they loved each other so much. Maybe their forms of coping with stress and past trauma were different from the way others did, but it worked for them. The cuts and bruises were a sign of healing, because you can't heal without being ripped apart first.
"You said I would get punished for it!" The Brit said, raising his voice as hot tears spilled from his eyes and onto his pale yellow sweater.
"Yeah, that's exactly right! And what did you do? You proceeded to fucking do it anyway!" Schlatt yelled, reaching forward and grabbing the other by the ankle, yanking him down to the foot of the bed. Wilbur's whole body shook with fear and anger as Schlatt towered over him, a sinister look in his eyes.
"Won't you quit your crying, you lying bitch!" He spat, grabbing him by the chin and forcing his gaze up to meet his own. Wilbur's wet, chocolate eyes reflected all the artificial light from the room, adding to the sensitive, fear-stricken look he had, and it just pissed the American off more.
YOU ARE READING
𝙈𝘾𝙔𝙏 𝙊𝙉𝙀𝙎𝙃𝙊𝙏𝙎
Fanfiction;; warning: contains smut, gore, and graphic depiction of harsh or sensitive topics ;; don't talk about your age. just don't talk about it, i don't care that you're 13 and think you're mature enough to read nsfw. you're not, but i can't stop you. go...
