He hates you.

That's the last thing your love, Skips, the shadow-lord, ever told you.  The last malicious words, he made it stick to you like glue, and he stood on it. So you honored it. You didn't go to see Skips or well, "Omega", just as he wanted. You didn't go to see him not even after the distance killed you on the inside.

You didn't want to lose your humanity, but you couldn't promise to always be around the way he wanted.

It seemed like a fair and easy decision for him, after all, he was stuck in that little void. All alone. For how long?

Nothing was secure, nothing promised to him.

But still. It hurts.

You wanted a compromise, remind him that you can still visit as a human, but the words didn't articulate that way.

You lay awake, the cat clock beside you ticking while the stir of midnight crickets sang their songs from the windows behind you. It was pitch black in the room, dark enough for you to forget your eyes were open every now and again. Your bed was surprisingly cold, the temperature in the room dull. It was an abnormal night, for such an abnormal day. You were spacing out all day while talking to your "housemates", and it was Tyrell who recommended some good sleep to you.

Yet, you couldn't sleep.

You flop over onto your back and kick the covers off you, hating the cold but you like the subtle pain of goosebumps spreading across you. You felt as if you deserved it. Deserved it? No. It was a misunderstanding.

It was only that.

Without thinking, your voice trails off into the night, "Skips." Your whisper sounds so small in the open air. The fondest twinkle of him crosses your mind, it's him calling you that cute nickname. You chuckle out, "Penumbra."

Your hand ran up to your heart. "He called me penumbra... Skips did," you mumble. You're talking to yourself now, you know you need it. "His penumbra... I've never heard that before. It was so unique. So cute."

Your hands run down to your ribcage shivers dancing down your arms. You laugh bittersweet, "He had cute glowy cheeks and sweet hair. Reminded me of those 2000s emo boys... Just my type." Your heart was racing, remembering those pitch eyes that greeted you in the dark. Remembering those shadowy hands that dusted your figure.

You swallow thickly, the cold forcing you to shake. You were too cold.

But for some reason.

Your hands were beginning to slip below.

"And the way he spoke. It was always," Your breath hitches. Your hands stopped by your belly, but you could feel the slow lull and pulse of your sex. You quietly cry out, arching into the air, feeling the sensation fade into nothing.

"Maybe my body is... Still reacting to you, Skips... Still reacting, everywhere you touched," your hands slide up to your lips, pressing your fingers into the flesh. Your arousal was budding into the air, as you grew more turned on by the second.

And you swear you swear you felt your sex stimulated yet again. You buck and moan, lifting your hips off the bed, the sensation of fire spreading in the nerves of your sex sending electric alerts to your brain. Alerts of confusion, of need. And just as it fades, you fall back. You gasp out, gasping as if your soul was taken from you.

What was going on with you?

You stammer, quickly slipping under the covers, shivering, laying flat on your sides with your arms folded. "I can't... If I masturbate to him, right now... Like this... I'll get hooked. I won't stop-- I won't stop thinking about him... I can't change his mind I have to..."

You trail off as you feel that familiar, odd spark, it stroked you again. Stimulating you, making your body burn, making you moan out as you grip the sheets and arch your back. "Mmggf," you try to stifle your moans, but it's no use.

Force, pressure, it generates between your legs, strong enough to no longer be from some phantom memory. It's strong, intense, stimulating you the way someone would rub your sex- with intent, with incision.

You spread your legs willingly, still resting on your left side as you lift your right leg into the air. The sensation of pressure turned into a hand- one with sharp claws, one that scratched the inside of your thighs as it pawed at your shorts.

"F-fuck-- no way," you groan picking your head up from the pillows, staring at the spot between your legs. It was too dark to see anything, but you could hear the rustling of your shorts as you were stroked dutifully. "B-Betty? Ffuck," you groan out, rocking into the hands.

A misty pressure tickles your ear, "Don't call me that."

Shivers rumbles down your spine.

"You know I'm not Betty," it hissed with anger. Anger of being mistaken, but also laced with prior, hidden malice.

You knew the voice.

Just didn't want it to be true.

What this meant.

Hands slide under your shorts, past your underwear, and phase through the fabric. Pressure greets your hole, and you whimper, needy, frustrated tears already beginning to build in your eyes. "Mmh-gy- no way," you moan blissfully.

"Shadows are all around you. Wearing skimpy underwear like this cast a shadow over your, pretty parts," his voice is angry. For every husky breath, you can tell, he's still angry.

It's not about being mistaken for someone.

A finger slips inside you, or at least what feels like a finger, and it lovingly massages your walls. It's hot and warm, and you slip onto your stomach. Despite this, the finger is still squirming inside, spreading you out invasively. "Aahf- fuck me- fuck me," you whine. Your heart is racing, your sex is leaking. You rise upright on your knees, holding onto your bed frame, facing the curtains, arching almost beautifully for your enemy.

The little finger grows larger, wider, and longer, stretching you out profoundly, taking shape to have a juicy thick head and a handsome girth. You know what this is- whose this belongs to. It's Skip's cock, manifesting in the shadows that hide your walls. Your head is growing heavy, perked ass locked into a trained, needy position. "S-Skips-- baby," you groan.

Hands manifest on your hips-- actual real hands with no doubts about it. The bed creaks beneath you, as a weight joins you by your legs. It's his legs, and with a rumble, you know he's dropped his vengeful ghost act and is truly behind you. Despite all of his manifesting, his hips aren't. They are touching your ass, they are behind you burying his cock into you.

And as you buck back, you don't feel the cushion of his body, but the air. Anger, and frustration, take you in one fell swoop. "Dammit Skips, stop playing with me," you curse. You pull down your shorts aggressively, and luckily, he manifests fully, his hips touching your ass, his cock growing hot, warm- alive. You moan out blissfully, "Yess... yes baby..."

He hisses, and this time his real voice growls out, "I don't ever remember giving you permission to call me that." He says it, but his human fleshy hands are on you, he says that but it's his human voice that reigns behind you. He skips right now, yet he scolds you.

But you're not allowed to speak, as he finally begins to thirst inside you. Your sex squelches and sings out, his thrusts are paced slowly, pushing himself all the way in, loving the way your ass hits his hips and how he fights to pull himself out when he's already so deep. When your walls don't want him to leave.

"Mmff, s'good," Skips moans out.

You mumble out between moans, "You--ff you nnh still m-aad?"

"Of course I am-- you betrayed me-- y-you made your choice," he grunts. He picks up speed, holding your hips as if they were a vice.

"F-forgive me, baby, forgive me," you stammer out.

He moans sharply, sliding hands around your chest and pulling you in close. Your back meets his chest, it's warm, making your heart flutter. He thrusts slowly again as if he's savoring the moment. "What are you looking at," he hisses, grabbing your chin and turning you to face him.

You can make out his features now, he's close, and he hungrily takes your lips. His hands run down and back over your body, touching and groping everything, leaving no stone unturned as he fucks you all slowly.

"S-Shadowlordd," you mewl, shaking in fervent possession.

He pants, eyebrows pinching in frustration. "I also-- ffuck-- never told you to call me that eiither," he grunts. "F-fuck-- fuck you're so hot inside. You're so warm. You're squeezing me so good, pn-- hhmn... Shit."

You squeeze around his pulsating cock.

He gasps sharply. And in a second, hot seed spills inside you. His breath hitches, head leaning desperately against yours as he shoots his loads inside. They spray your walls so lovely, making you stickier, and wetter. He buries himself almost balls deep to deliver his seed, and if he weren't a shadow, you'd think he was trying to breed you.

You laugh, "You can't seem to make up your-- mind Skips. You don't do anything... Nothing but you want it... Nothing except I m-make you feel like you're in heaven... You came so quick... You pent-up?"

He melts into your neck, kissing and sucking the skin. His right hand slides up to barrage your nipple, and his left crawls down, playing with your sex.

"Penumbra," he groans.

Your heart flutters.

"Gonna m-make you cum now, my-- penumbra," he swallows as if he's drooling, his voice turning vulnerable and needy. As if he needs you to cum right now, begging for it with every voice crack. He thrusts again, fucking you like he's making love, all while sucking and kissing your neck.

You jerk and call out, your voice vibrating against walls, stealing the space. You're so loud you don't even know what to do with yourself. Loud as you choke on Skip's name, in harmonic wanton with the sloppy sounds of his cock feeding you. Wanton to the smack off his hips bouncing off your ass, as if his skin and strong bones were giving you a kiss.

And how he played with your sex as if he were mad, fervent, mad, and greedy. Greedy for someone who hated you.

"C-cuh-cumming," you somehow manage out a word.

"Cum- cum- cuum. Cuum penumbra," he's sucking and kissing your earlobe, fucking you stronger, harsher, sloppier with all disregard. He was going to cum again, his voice spiked high.

Your orgasm hit your body like a train, how he forced it out of you with nimble thrusts, milked it out long and tuff with selfish grunts, only to spill hot, fiery seed into you once more. Having it glutinously pour out of you, spilling and dribbling down his heavy balls.

There's no time for anything, as he steals your lips, sucking your tongue, tasting and sculpting your mouth with his own. You break part with a pant, "Souh- needy--" but your words don't matter, as he crashes lips onto you again,　possessive hands locked in place around your body.

He breaks the steamy, needy kiss. He sits back on his ass, holding your hips down on his cock. He groans in your ear, "Ride me like you want it."

A switch flips in you. You're riding him, fucking down onto him at an intense pace. Out the gate you fucking him wild, loving how your body tingled in overstimulation, how together- you made the cold, dull room hot, sweaty- wild. Chasing the feeling of your brain melting away, living for the loud, reassuring moans that drown out Skip's body. Too bad for any objects who wanted good sleep tonight.

You were fucked out of your mind, holding in his cum like a factory, as every thrust felt like a sharp firework until your premature, overstimulation orgasm.

You twitch on his body, falling back against his chest as your toes curl, and drool dribbling out your mouth with a mewl. The lewd face, the sound, you force him into his final orgasm, hearing him grunt out like an animal, draining his balls of all they had.

You sat like that, groaning and grunting at each other, gripping and holding each other, panting, kissing.

"Wanna breed you-- Wanna make you all mine. You're not going away-- y'not leaving me, penumbra. My penumbra," his hands slap your thighs, as you grind down on the warm rod that connected your souls.

"I'm not going anywhere. I don't ever wanna. I'm never leavin'," you mewl.

"But you will. You will in the morning," his chin is against your ear, his lips against your hair.

"And I'll come right back. We'll figure it out together. Only if you trust me, you help me," you butter out. "I love you... Give us another chance?"

He fidgets, he can't resist.

"Alright... Enjoy my mercy. Savor the redemption," he whispers into your ears, seductively holding every letter. He kisses you there hotly, hands finding their way to swirling your nipples.

You ask, "M-more?" He slots in place in front of you.