Imagine getting into a verbal fight with Wilbur until you start choking him, the only difference is that he's moaning instead of trying to get out of your grasp. Couldn't be me đ¤
Thank you for the more than kind words on my headcanons, i was suprised to see your response, even if they weren't THAT good.
Ooh, ooh, I liiike this, I really do.
And your headcanons slap, shut, your brain is wrinkly, ass phat, and you deserve prosperity and love for how good those were!
(Also I am dubbing you polite anon! always polite!)
God it was just a few petty words that started the yelling match, a few muttered things that had you snapping at him to speak up, to say it again with his whole chest or not at all and now here you are. Fingers clenched in his coat pulling him forward to spit vitriol of equal strength to him, cheeks stinging at how long this row had been carrying on, dropping him as you finish up the last string of insults and bitter words, watching as he stumbles to his feet, smirking before he returns the favor.
"You know if your going to call me names, you should really think of some new ones, a cunt really? Monster? Oh honey I know that much, you will have to think so much harder to get me to crack, or are you hoping that a little bit of name calling and clothes tugging will be enough? Or maybe-"
The chocked noise that cut off his words was euphoric, the way Wilbur's eyes went wide and his lips barely parted to try and get some form of noise out, god the image would live in your head for months to come. But the true form of enjoyment came the moment you gave a harsh squeeze, silencing any more bitterly honeyed words with a simple act, only the moment you let up slightly he moaned, a broken and needy noise that almost echoed in your ears.
The reaction is almost enough for you to let go, to drop him again and let him sprawl on the floor, let him stay flushed and humbled from showing a weakness and yet something drives you to tighten your grip again, to reveal in how his eyes roll back and his legs shake, one of his hands loosely wrapped around your wrist, keeping your grip where it is as his other hand scrabbles to hold onto your shirt.
Well wouldn't you know, the ever looming and manipulative Wilbur had a thing for hands around his neck, and oh how he flushed so prettily as you cooed at him, tightening your grip further when more than a moan tries to leave his lips.
"Ah, ah, none of that now. Such a big bad, mean monster, is moaning and almost shoving his neck into my hand at one little squeeze. You know it's almost pathetic, but that's what you are Wilbur, and this is just the kind of thing I expected from you! No be good and maybe I'll keep my hand here and choke you like you need..."