#frank manera x reader

[outlustings]

okay OKAY im so excited. i'd like to request a n/s/f/w scene between Frank Manera or Trager (your pick!) and an afab reader who's a dangerous inmate. reader might not be as big of a threat as them but is still pretty f*cked up 🔪

also i love your works and how you write for so many characters so well hmrgnnrbdgs [sends you bitcoins]

(did both of em because idk what i'm actually doing also like uhh this is kind of nasty. let me know if you want something different because lol what is this.

sub-ish trager and frank and like uh riding and face riding and period sex and exhibitionism and violence and fucked up stuff and you know what? i just went buck wild with this and i hate it, it's stupid. anyways send me money.)

×

RICHARD TRAGER

The fluorescent light of the observation cell buzzed its dull tune as you braced your knees on the slippery linoleum, head thrumming, blood spilling from your busted lip onto his chest as you clawed at his bare chest.

This new experiment - you could get used to all this. It was so much better than the solitude of your cell and only your own fingers to entertain yourself. You didn't even care if they watched. They watched you all the time, pumped you full of so many hormones that you couldn't even function properly, watched you writhe against your restraints as your body begged for release. Even the slightest touch of a rubber glove, a slap to your face made you cum. They liked it. And they increased your dosage. They increased your hormone therapy until you were screaming in your cell, muttering curses as you humped against the cold metal of the bars like a fucking animal. Humiliating. You could smell and taste blood and with every day that dragged by, you wanted more. More.

Maybe it was mercy, maybe it was morbid curiosity, but they dragged you into a cell with some guy, told him to do whatever he pleased. Idiots, all of them - it was not about what that scrawny smartass would do to you, it was about whatever you pleased. And you took him. You took ol' Rick Trager from research and development, wrestled him to the ground and fucked him. Wildly.

You felt his hard cock against your thigh, thought how his dick felt so much silkier than the rest of his skin.

"You know they're watching us, right?" he grunted against you, tongue hot and wet against the dirt on your skin, slippery ans needy as he gave sloppy kisses to your neck, "Why don't you give them a show, sweetheart?"

He licked the shell of your ear, obscenely, and you shuddered on top of him, involuntarily grinding your exposed cunt down on him, torn fabric rustling as he groped your hips. He wouldn't go down without a fight. You heard him chuckle against you, felt the reverberations of his voice against your tender, sweaty flesh.

"I'll be surprised if it works," you grinned as you gripped his cock.

"What do you mean?" he hissed, watching your fingers wrap around his shaft.

"Your dick."

"What?"

You thumbed the slit of the swollen head, massaging his cock with twisty motions as you worked him to full hardness. So easy, like a routine. He must've been desperate too, bucking up into you as you stroked him.

He laughed bitterly.

"Right, well, I assure you I'm all good. Whatever, let me show you -..."

He snaked his hand to grope at you, but you snatched his wrist, pushing it away with a mischievous grin.

"You talk too much," you shook your head, "Shut up and let me fuck you."

He cocked his eyebrow, snorting at you.

"Look at you," he smiled, resting his head against the tiles, his lips quivering ever so slightly as you watched a bead of sweat roll down his temple and into his hair, "You talk like a professional. I could see you've done this before, you freak. Disgusting, aren't you?"

You shoved your fingers inside his mouth, slid them past his parted lips and hooked them down against his lower teeth, gripping his chin. His tongue flexed against your fingers as he let out a groan.

"I could tear your chin from your skull like this," you pressed your fingers against the underside of his tongue, watched his eyes glisten, "Just pull a little bit - like this," you tugged gently at his mandible, heard his shallow breathing quicken, "Clean off. Just like that. Then I'd ride your face afterwards."

"Disgus-hing, hat-s enouhh," he mumbled around your fingers, but his eyes lit up. You positioned yourself on his cock, hovering above him, biting your lip as the bulbous head slid against your slickness, up and down as he watched you adoringly as you slipped your hand from his mouth and to his throat.

He too, liked the taste of blood.

You slid down on his shaft, moaning at the stretch as your entire body shook with the release of your painful anticipation - fuck, how well he filled you, it was unreal.

You choked him, presses your fingers against the sides of his throat as you slammed your hips up and down on his cock.

His eyes wandered to where your cunt swallowed his length. Up and down, with little glistening webs of your arousal running along his shaft.

He let out a strangled moan, way higher in pitch than it probably was supposed to be.

You grinned mockingly.

"Awh, am I too much for you to handle?" you drove your hips against his, throwing your head back to laugh openly into the dry, hot air of the chamber. You missed being this full. So full of cock.

"Can't even put up a fight. Fucktoy," you spat at him, your rugged laughter turning into wanton, throaty moans as his cock twitched against your spongy walls, ramming deep inside you.

Beneath you, Trager shook his head, grunted. You could feel his adam's apple bob against the flesh of your palm as you rolled your hips on his lap, again and again, riding his dick, basking in the lovely, lovely fullness inside you.

"Fuck you," he grumbled, his eyes narrowing in resentment, but you still felt how hard he was, how much he craved you - he didn't mean it.

"You love it," you smirked, slamming down your hips, rolling them languidly against his hardness, teasing him as you heard him grunt.

"Don't flatter yourself, sweets. I'm not that impressed yet," he huffed, his brows furrowing as he stifled a moan.

You squeezed his throat harder. If he was going in for the jugular, so would you.

"It's been a while since you've had a good fuck, isn't it?" you chuckled, "Talking all that shit yet so desperate for this cunt? Pitiful. No wonder they fired you."

He hissed underneath you.

"I should wring your neck, you know that?" he dug his fingers into your hips, gripping you with his long fingernails - breaking the skin. You felt rivulets of hot, sticky crimson run down your bucking hips, but you just laughed. Laughed at the sting that went straight to your cunt. He was so needy. Needy and pathetic. All bark, no bite. You couldn't ruin him like this.

"I'd like to see you try," you murmured, bending down to place a kiss to the tip of his nose, moving your hands from his neck to his chest, pressing your weight onto him as he gasped softly, "Come on, show me what you can do, then. Fuck me, but keep your jaw shut, I wouldn't want to tear it off - looks wonderful on you," you muttered against his mouth, your tongue flicking out to taste the raw flesh of his exposed gum, that twisted grin making your cunt twitch and quiver around him. You couldn't help but notice - he was handsome like this. Flushed face, twisted into concentration as he tried to prove himself to you. So needy. He stunk of pheromones, of desperation. And you loved it.

His hands moved to cup your ass as you gave him a new position of assault.

"Filthy cunt," he growled, bucking up into you as you moaned against his skin, pressing sloppy, harsh kisses to his jaw as he fucked you from below, his sinewy arms squeezing you to his chest, "I'm going to destroy you. Split you in two."

"Yes-s-s," you sighed, moving your hips up and down to meet him halfway with his thrusts, the obscene sound of your ass hitting his thighs echoing in the room.

"I'm going to tear your throat open with my teeth. Make you bleed out. I'm going to cum inside this... You're mine," he groaned feverishly against your neck, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin. And with his words, you seized your opportunity. You ached for his cock, but what you ached for even more was his humiliation in front of them.

"What was that?"

You straightened your back, wrenching yourself out of his embrace, eyeing him with a cocked brow. He stuttered. You lifted your hips up so that only his tip remained buried inside you.

"No, wait - fuck," he moaned, hands clawing at the softness of your hips, trying to force you back down, his eyes wide and hungry.

"Before that."

"Don't stop," he pleaded. Pleaded like a little bitch.

"No," you smiled tenderly, squatting up, his cock slipping out of you with a wet pop as you settled your butt on his thighs, straddling him as he tried to get up. He swung at you wildly, but you grabbed his wrists, bending them away from your face.

"Let me..." he panted.

"No," you snickered, grinding your clit against his twitching sack, biting your lip as you felt the coil inside your abdomen tighten, "Not until you talk some sense to me. I know you can do it."

"Fuck you," he moaned weakly, gritting his teeth as his cock jolted against his stomach, leaking precum onto his leathery skin, "Fu-uck - fuck you."

"I'm not yours."

×

FRANK MANERA

This was one way to help with the cramps, with no doctors and no Tylenol around.

The pungent, coppery taste of viscera hung in the back of your throat, clung to your palate as you ground your hips against his face, feeling his slippery tongue lave over your folds as his sharp nose brushed against your clit with every needy thrust of yours. He licked up your blood like a mutt, and you loved it.

"That's it, there you go," you cooed, giggling as you felt him exhale against your cunt, his green eyes desperate as he clung to your thighs, "You take it so well, Manera. And all this time I thought you liked your meat dead."

You chuckled as you felt him moan against you, his beard prickly against your swollen flesh as you bucked into him again and again, your blood smeared on his jaw as he gasped for breath, trying to lift your hips up.

"Fuck," he groaned, "Fuck, you taste good."

"I do?" you stroked his hair, leaning back to palm at his white underwear, the cotton tented and hot with his erection, "You love my cunt when it's all bloody?"

He nodded feverishly, diving back in with a crooked smile as he devoured you, his tongue flicking against your clit as you rode his face. You laughed.

"So desperate."

"Hungry," he hissed against your core, his hand reaching from around your thigh so that his fingers rested on the hood of your clit as he sucked it into his greedy mouth. You groaned, wrapping your hand around his hairy forearm, stroking his sweaty skin as you slipped your hand inside his underwear, felt his leaking tip brush against the flesh of your palm as he bucked his narrow hips up.

You licked your lips, moaning as you felt his tongue slip inside you, then out, then in again, as he rubbed your clit with his hand.

"You're way too good at this," you mumbled, saw how his eyes crinkled up with joy as you complimented him. He was yours. All yours, and he liked the taste of your sweet, sweet flesh, bitter and hearty as you bled on his face. It was disgusting. But in a profoundly arousing way.

He fucked you with his tongue, your cramping muscles weak and twitching as he tore orgasm after orgasm from you, only moaning quietly when you took your hand from his cock and dug your nails into his scalp, crushing his face with your hips as you pressed your cunt against him. And by how hard he was, how he whimpered against you - you could tell he loved it. Using him like this, as your personal little reliever, fucking his face, surrounded by his handiwork in whistling, boiling pots, amidst hundreds of flies and the buzzing - god, the buzzing, it was getting to you. You felt his sloppy kiss against your trembling cunt, moaned at the sting his beard against your sensitive flesh as he pulled away, a string of pinkish, pearly saliva connecting his lips to your core as he panted beneath you. What a beautiful sight. You grinned at him, stroked his hair, purred sweet little nothings to him as he wiped at his lips.

"Was that -...?" he smiled shyly. Awfully shyly for who he actually was and for what he had done. You smirked.

"Perfect, just what I needed," you nodded slowly, scooting your butt off of him, stepping down from the rickety table, your bare feet squishing blood and bits of flesh as you stood up on the floor, eyeing him as he straightened his back.

"Aren't you going to - I mean, can we - can I -...?" his eyes were wide, even hungrier than before as the flushed head of his cock peeked from the waistband of his underwear.

He ached to fuck you.

"What?" you leaned on the table, cocking your head to the side as you watched his eyes flicker between your face and your dripping cunt - you couldn't deny you felt a little too empty for him to be entirely done with you.

"I need you," he grunted.

You licked your lips slowly. You bent over to give him a chaste peck on the cheek, turning on your heels, your thrumming abdomen begging for him - but you wouldn't give into it that easily.

"Catch me first."

[thatoneraven]

frank manera x trans male reader please theres no content of this out here I'll take anything even nsfw

Figured I would get this done since it’s been sitting in my inbox for a while.

A Different Hunger

Frank Manera x M!Nurse!Reader

Summary: The new kid in the ward tries to teach Frank some slang, and he decides to use it to impress- and freak out- the new nurse.

Contains: horrible attempts at flirting

“Okay, so, lit basically means cool. You can use it like ‘that party was lit’, yeah?” The kid looks up at Frank expectantly, an eyebrow raised. Frank looks back at him, face scrunched in confusion. “Y’all new generations are strange. How do y’all come up with these weird slang words?” The kid huffs and rolls his eyes, leaning back in his chair. “Come on man, you gotta catch up. You’ve got your eyes on that new nurse, right? I’m sure he uses modern slang.” Frank sighs and slumps forward, resting his chin on his fist. “Alright, alright, enlighten me.” The kid grins, eyes sparkling mischievously. “I think you’ll like this one. When you think someone looks hot, you can say ‘you look like a whole meal.’ He’ll probably like that one.” Frank's eyes light up and he sits up straight. “Now that un’s fitting. I might just use that un.” He gazes over to the corner where you’re chatting with one of your coworkers. “Y/n!” He waves at you, and you quickly make your way over, nervously messing with the edge of your uniform. “Yes Mr. Manera? Is something wrong?” He gives you a playful grin, glancing over your form. “Nah, I just wanted to say you look like a whole meal today.” You immediately flush at the words, but then the color drains from you, body at war with your thoughts. Is he complimenting you or telling you he wants to eat you? You avert your eyes and laugh, raising a nervous hand to the back of your neck. “Well, sir, I’m not on the menu.” Frank laughs boisterously, clapping a hand on your shoulder. “Damn shame, cause I could just eat you up.” You look at him with wide eyes, brows twitching in confusion. The kid sitting across from him is snorting into his hand, face red with restrained laughter. You loosen up a bit, figuring this is all a joke. “Not sure I would taste very good.” Frank grins at you, giving you a flirty wink. “Oh I’m sure you’d taste very good.” The kid bursts out laughing, slamming a fist on the table and attracting everyone’s attention. You burn with embarrassment, looking down at your shoes and messing with your uniform. Frank turns his attention to the kid, furrowing his brows. “Come one, you gotta admit, that was a good un.” The kid wipes a tear from his eye and takes a couple of deep breaths, trying to keep more giggles at bay. “Oh fuck dude- The look on his face! Oh, that’s priceless.” Frank grunts in annoyance, giving him a small shove. “You’re the one who gave me the idea!” While they’re bickering, you take the opportunity to sneak back to your coworkers, heart racing and face flushed with embarrassment. “Ha, charming. Not even a week here and you’re already catching eyes.” Waylon nudges you with his elbow, giving you a playful grin. You roll your eyes and chuckle, nudging him right back. “I don’t think he was being serious.” He gapes at you, raising a brow. “Dude, are you kidding me? He’s so obvious. He’s been eyeing you up like you’re his last meal all week.” You shiver and scratch at the back of your neck, body still conflicted on whether to pale or flush. “You sure he doesn’t just want to eat me?” Waylon chuckles and slaps you on the back, pointing over to Frank. Frank is staring at you with a dreamy look on his face, and he winks and grins when he catches your eye. You blush and avert your eyes. “He does play with his food, but I haven’t seen him like this before.” With a sigh, you slump over. “Okay, I guess it’s not that far fetched that he likes me.” You glance over again, subtly observing his sharp features. He’s definitely handsome, his aged features add a certain charm to his look. “Y/n, you’re needed in the male ward.” A sharp voice comes over the speaker on your hip, jolting you out of your observations. With an irritated sigh, you brush the wrinkles out of your uniform and look up at Waylon. “Guess my break is over. See you later.” He nods at you and gives you a good natured grin. You smile back and cast one last glance at Frank. He’s looking at you again, so you decide to shyly smile at him and wave goodbye. He eagerly returns the gesture, and you leave the cafeteria with a small smile.

[lesbiaseagull]

Hey if u r still bored could you please write some hc for Frank Manera (nsfw or sfw) :)

Of course! And I’m usually always bored 😐  

Frank Manera x Reader headcanons 

- He probably will annoy the shit out of you, but you love him anyways

- He tries his best not to upset you

- He won’t let you go anywhere in the asylum by yourself

- His pet name for you is sweetheart. And sometimes cupcake

- He won’t force you two, but sometimes he’ll ask you to eat human flesh with him

- You try and teach him how to relax. You fail. 

- You won’t stop him from killing people that come into the Asylum, the only time you will is if it’s just a teenager

- And don’t try and make him jealous, it won’t end well for you or the person he’s jealous of

- He’s a sweetheart when your period rolls around, he already knows what you need and where to find them, and will grab them for you during the first hint. 

- Don’t let him leave the Asylum because he will not be back for hours. And he’ll probably bring something back for you. 

- He definitely enjoys cuddling 

- He’ll sometimes forget himself and where he stands and threatens you

- But he’ll apologize right after

- If any variants were to touch you or harm you in any way, they probably wouldn’t ever be seen again 

[rohansregret]

WHO I WRITE FOR (OUTLAST)

———

Outlast

miles upshur, chris walker, richard trager, the twins, jeremy blaire, various other variants (lmk specifically which one)

Outlast Whistleblower

eddie gluskin, frank manera, dennis, waylon park

Outlast 2

blake langermann, val

requests are closed + who i write for

Copyright © [2022] by [rohansregret]

[7habitsofhighlyeviceratedpeople]

this link is expired there’s a new one on my account

[darling-i-read-it]

Wedding Day

Eddie Gluskin x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.6k 

Warnings: literally all the things omg. Murder. Body parts being pulled apart adn changed and eddie is eddie who truly is mentally unwell. The reader goes along with it to stay alive. If you have played outlast than i can assume you know the whole vibe 

Author’s Note: would i be remiss to say eddie my love or is that…that not cool 

Summary: Would it be safer to stay with Eddie than to anger him? 

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

The cannibal guy was the worst thing you had run into thus far. You knew you shouldn’t have even questioned Murkoff after the whole female ward was transferred. You shouldn’t have kicked up a fuss about the shady things that had gone on here but you did, because you thought you were getting the patients justice. 

Now the patients were trying to kill you. 

You were aware of the irony. 

Frank Manera, the cannibal as you had dubbed him, had chased you through the incinerators until you lost him in the courtyard. You weren’t sure where you were now. The place was huge and it was a maze, each turn more disorienting than the last. You could only imagine actually working here. It was even harder to imagine being a patient, unsure of which way you were going, which place they were taking you in the muddled horror. 

Murkoff had asked you in for an interview a couple of days ago and then you were a patient. It didn’t last very long, the breakout happening almost as quickly as you had been ‘admitted’. They made sure that you knew you were the only woman here, that whatever horrors happened to you you had asked for in your complaints. 

You were in some sort of basement. There seemed to be two men muttering to themself, disputing about some argument. You had learned to stop listening to the patients. They usually never made sense. It just made you more scared in the long run. 

You were slowly dissenting into the depths of the hospital but you would rather go down and back up than just keep going up. 

“Silly!” a voice called. “I can hear you, in the walls! Rats in the walls!” 

You breathed deeply, trying to slow your movements so that they wouldn’t be able to find where you were. 

“Shut up!” another, deeper voice called. “If we give him to the groom, then we will be spared!” they hissed. Give him? The groom? You ducked and slid into what seemed to be stairs going to the basement. You started going down anyway and then jumped the last of the way, landing in a dark sewing area. You cleared your throat shakily, trying to find out where the hell you were. You walked over to one of the murky windows and tried to look out. 

There weren't any differentiating things outside. Only trees. No roads, no courtyards, no cars. How far away were you from the front of the hospital? 

“Darling?”

You jumped, turning on your heels at the sound of a deep male voice, wistfully speaking. It was one of the least technically threatening voices you had heard here but you still stood on guard. Out of the shadows came a man, extending a hand. He was wearing a makeshift tux, seemingly out of different uniforms. 

He had already seen you. There was no point in running or dropping to the ground; he would catch you before you got too far. For the first time you were trapped in a corner. You thought about trying to fall through the window behind you but you knew it was reinforced, like every single other window here. 

The man's face came into the view of the small amount of light. It illuminated the disfigurements on his face and his bloodshot eyes. You swallowed. 

“What are you doing out here? It’s dangerous you know,” he suggested, smiling. You gripped the window sill as tightly as you could. He was coming closer. 

“Who are you?” you questioned. 

“You speak! I was starting to wonder,” he purred. He was only a few feet away from you. He noticed the look of your face and your body, something he hadn’t seen in a very, very, long time. “Oh.” His grin widened. “You won’t be needing any modifications.”

“Modifications?” 

“You’re perfect.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re going to be late to our ceremony. I’m so glad I found you!” He grabbed your hand. You squinted your eyes, trying to figure out what his delusion of choice was. 

The groom 

His tux.

Darling?

You were his bride. That was what he believed. 

And honestly, however terrifying that was, you were just beyond happy he didn’t want to eat you. 

“What’s your name?” you asked, breathing out deeply. 

“Eddie Gluskin. And yours darling?” 

His hand was threatening, the one that rested beside you on the window sill. He was so close you could feel his breathing. 

“Y/N.”

“Natural born perfection, Y/N.” 

Without warning he scooped you up into his arms. You marveled at his strength for a moment, the moment after the fear ran through your body. Where was he taking you? What was he going to do? 

“How did you get stuck in here darling? Tsk, tsk. It’s dangerous!” He seemed to know where he was taking you. There was no point in trying to fight him and all things considered, you would rather be a bride than be separated from your head. 

“I don’t know,” you said honestly. 

There was a loud crash down the hallway that you were passing by. You jumped, gripping his shoulder but Eddie remained stagnant, holding you securely. It felt sort of…nice to know that if someone ran at you he would likely take care of them before they actually got to you. 

You ignored the fate he could bring you to and gripped him tighter. 

“Where are we going Eddie?”

“To get you ready. Would you like to see your dress? My mother always said I shouldn’t see the bride before the wedding but there wasn’t anything else suited than what I could make with my hands.” 

You nodded. 

“I would like to see my dress,” you breathed. “Did you make your tux as well?” you asked, shakily. 

“I did. Only the best for you darling.” You entered a room with a long table and a man laying there. He was covered in blood, clearly dead. He was…disfigured. In many different ways. You gripped Eddie and he almost shielded your eyes as he shook his head. 

“I’m sorry you had to see that. I went through many before finding you,” he explained. You nodded slowly. You had never been so happy to be a girl. 

“It’s okay,” you whispered. He took you past that room. You passed messages on the wall that said things like ‘love makes a house a home’. There were diagrams for dresses, along with makeshift half made outfits. 

“Would you mind walking darling? We have to go downstairs.” You nodded and let him gently put you down. You landed on your feet and were unsure what to do other than follow him. You stayed close behind, careful not to be separated from Eddie in case someone tried to take a swing at you. 

You followed him down the stairs. 

“We will be a wonderful family,” he explained. “You and me and our children. I’ll make sure nothing happens to them, nothing ever happens to any of you,” he promised. Someone ran past a couple of rooms ahead of you. You jumped, grabbing his arm. He put his hand on yours. He smiled, bordering the line of sinister and sweet. 

“Nothing,” he promised. 

“Where are we going Eddie?” 

“Just a little further darling.” You entered what looked like an altar of some sort. There was a mannequin with the dress up in the front. “For you,” he said, voice deep. You breathed hard. 

Okay. 

There’s no way this could be binding. May as well? 

“Can you take it off? I don’t want to ruin it before I can even put it on,” you suggested. He nodded, bowing his head and slowly removing it. After a moment he handed it to you. “Now?” you breathed. 

“Of course.” He made no move to turn around. You nodded slowly and took a deep breath, in your chest and then out. You quickly removed the jumpsuit they had given you and put the dress on. 

It was surprisingly comfortable but not as agile as you would have liked. 

“After this, can we leave?” you questioned. “We can’t possibly have kids here. I mean, where would they even sleep?” 

“There are plenty of places here to pick from!” he said but his mind seemed elsewhere. He looked at you in the dress and breathed shakily, noticeably taken aback. 

“You look beautiful,” he said, smiling brightly. 

“But wouldn’t it be easier for us outside?”

“We shouldn’t argue now.” He offered up his hand. “We have a ceremony to do.” 

You felt the urge to pull your hand away but you looked back down the dark hallway you had come. You would never survive out there on your own. Despite everything, you would be safer with Eddie as long as you kept him on your side. 

Which meant today was your wedding day. 

“Of course darling.” 

You gave him your hand and stepped onto the altar.

[theirmajesty2139]

could I get uhhhh frank manera x transmasc reader nsfw ill take anything

You definitely can! My trans folders get all the love ❤️

I really vibe with this request I hope you enjoy

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26410870/chapters/64813795

[outlustings]

Ooh more requests? I have an idea for Frank: we used to be a nurse at Murkoff(a nice one of course) and when everything goes to shit we end up running into Frank who instead of cannibalizing us, eats us in a different way *wink wink* If you do actually write this one feel free to make it as dirty as you want

(oh my GOD so UH my hand. slipped. slippery slippery slippery. so afab!reader gets eaten out on the floor. dubcon because reader hits their head before getting they Poussey Ate but also reader is kind of insane already so ehhh EHHHH idk, mentions of violence, blood, gore because frank. this is awful and pretty dark. but dirty.

also now i really want frank to eat me out thanks anon for planting this into my mind. you guys are some torturers with these prompts shaking my smh.)

×

"Stay back!" you stumbled backwards against the wall, eyes fixed on the sharp, curved teeth of the spinning saw, the grinding sound digging into your brain.

"I won't hurt you," the skinny man cooed from the shadows, taking long steps towards you, bare feet slapping against the blood-slick floor. You shook your head feverishly.

"Stay back, don't fucking touch me! I swear!"

Your lightweight sneaker slipped on the bloody floorboards, and you lost your balance, fell back with a squeal, your head cracking painfully against the concrete wall.

For a second or two, you could only see white. Felt molten iron tear at your brain. It hurt. You raised your hands to the back of your head by instinct and curled up on the floor, whining and cursing as your head was about to split in two. You couldn't see. Something warm in your hair. Red on your fingers. No, no, no, not like this.

"Please," you cried out into the darkness, your eyes trying to adjust to the view of the swimming, rippling floorboards, "Please, please, I never hurt you, any of you! What the fuck did I do to deserve this? God!" you felt your throat burn as you screeched. You scooted yourself on the floor, trying to put pressure on the back of your head, eyes unseeing. Have to get away. Away from the saw.

You could only hear the blood in your ears. Buzzing and ringing. The saw. Maybe. You squeezed your eyes shut, prepared yourself mentally, the rolodex in your brain shuffling on its own through your memories, deciding what should be your last thought - for some reason, you ended up with an image of a thin, bearded man grinning at you, his green eyes glinting at you as he handed you a picture he'd drawn in group therapy. It was a crudely drawn dick. Your favorite patient. You shared many laughs with him.

You wanted to laugh. Laugh at the situation. Maybe one last laugh before death.

"I won't hurt you, sweets," you felt his breath against your ear. Then you heard a loud clatter next to you. He'd dropped his weapon, you hoped. You felt his fingers on your cheek.

You blinked the blood from your eyes.

"Frank?" you swallowed, "Fucking Christ, just take me home, Frank. Please. God. I can't die here. I want to -..."

Your consciousness faded and you felt thin, skeletally thin arms snake around your shoulders.

                                      ×

He'd taken you somewhere. Only a couple of rooms over. Privacy. You saw the blinking red button on the nightstand. You felt the cool, damp air against your bare skin as he tugged at your uniform trousers.

Your brain felt numb. Comfortably numb as his fingers rubbed you through your pants, his lips on the skin around your navel as you tried to lift your head up off the ground to take a closer look at him.

Everything was dark. This wasn't supposed to happen, you thought as he ripped off your pants, grabbing the flesh of your hips, his heavy breaths echoing in the room as you lay on the floor.

It smelled. The room smelled. Raw meat. Like a butcher's market in the summertime. You scrunched your nose.

You squirmed against his grip, trying to lift your hips off the ground. He gripped your wiggling hips, his fingers digging into your skin. He's going to eat you, you thought as something in the back of your head brought you closer to reality, your eyes adjusting to the dark as you looked, or rather tried to look, at him over your bare, trembling chest. His face was all twisty. You blinked your dizziness away.

"Shh, it's okay," he murmured.

"Don't eat me," you said dumbly.

"I won't," he shook his head, "Just fucking stay still."

Cool air against your cunt. You winced.

"Wait," you gasped, your vision finally stilling on Frank's face between your legs, "Wait, Frank!"

He pressed his lips against your pubic mound, right above your clit.

"You want this?"

You shook your head but it hurt.

"Right now? No," you said. You briefly registered his strong hands on your buttocks, and with one swift toss, he swung your legs on his shoulders, scooching closer to you on the floor.

You felt his crossed legs against your upper back, "We have to get out, later," you said hoarsely.

"I need you," he pressed a soft kiss to your clitoris, inhaling your scent. You moaned weakly, "Need this pussy."

You slapped your hand to your forehead. Men.

"Later," you choked out, trying to twist your legs off of him, "This is really -..." you shuddered as he nosed against you, "...- inappropriate," you sighed, gripping the floorboards.

He wouldn't let go, only hummed against your lower lips. You felt a jolt of heat run through you.

"Always had a thing for you," he sighed against your labia, moving his head to press sloppy kisses against your thigh, "I could always smell you. You always wanted me. Little nursie."

You gulped.

"Smell - me?"

"Your cunt," he nodded, flitting his tongue out experimentally and letting out a low hum as the touch upon your clit made you exhale hard, "Dripping. Could smell when you'd be ripe for breeding - what's the word...?" he clicked his tongue, "Ovulating - yeah. Wanted to fuck you. So, so bad. And now I know you taste even better than you smell."

So casual, you thought. Yet every word that came out of his mouth sounded ravenous. Like he wanted to devour you. He desired you.

You blinked at him, feeling your cheeks burn. You opened your mouth.

"Don't deny me now," he grunted, massaging your butt as you felt another jolt of electric heat run through you, felt yourself grow slick under his hot breath, his honeyed, hungry words, "Let me eat you."

"Now?" you breathed out, reaching up to his head but he snatched your wrist.

"Now."

His breath against your cunt. You licked your lips and whined, low, as you saw the desire in his eyes.

Your head was pounding. So was your heart. And your heartbeat was travelling dangerously low for the situation to be all too comfortable, professionally speaking.

"I'm your nurse," you whispered, in a desperate effort to thwart the ache. To reason with him.

"Exactly," he grinned.

He licked a long, hungry stripe from your entrance all the way to your clit. You moaned, throwing your head back into the wooden floor, the coppery scent of blood and the pungent smell of viscera snaking into your nostrils as you bit your lip, trying to stifle any more noises.

"That's it, my flower," he cooed from between your thighs, and you could hear him smack his lips obscenely, "You were always so good to me... Let me be good to you..."

He hummed and pressed his mouth sloppily against your cunt, his open mouth engulfing your lips as you felt his tongue lave up and down your labia. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to keep your trembling hips still as you felt little jolts and sparks of pleasure run through you in short bursts. It felt too good. He felt too good. You had to concentrate on something - anything - to keep your mind off of how well he took your slick flesh into his mouth and how well he flicked his tongue against your tender arousal - you gasped as you felt his nose brush against your clit as he dove in, devouring your sopping lips with languid, deliberate licks. You shuddered, feeling how he pressed sloppy kisses against you, murmuring sweetly while kneading the inside of your thighs with his thumbs.

"So tasty," he grunted and a low, spine-chilling giggle slipped from his lips, "Why have you kept this from me, my sweet?"

He pressed his tongue against your entrance and you squeaked, feeling your walls clench around the tip of his tongue as he fucked you with shallow little movements of wet muscle. You panted, smacking the floor with your fists, twisting your body as you felt him nose against your clit again and again as he rubbed his mouth over you, lewd, wet noises slicing through the air as he all but slurped on your pussy. You mewled quietly, your hands moving to cover your flushed face.

He didn't mind. He ate you like he was starved of your cunt, of its musk. He lifted your hips off the floor and closer to his face, if that was even possible, shoving his tongue in and out, flicking it upwards against your fluttering walls as you sighed and gasped and squirmed in his hands.

His hot breath against your slick lips felt tingly. His tongue stilled and he pressed a kiss to your cunt and you groaned as you dared to peek at him from behind your fingers, seeing his green eyes fixed on your face as his head rose slowly from between your legs.

"Look at me," he growled, digging his nails into your thighs, making you gasp, "Look at me when I fuck you."

You whined and lowered your hands from your eyes to your neck, where you rested them, watching him over your heaving chest. He grinned, yellowed teeth glinting in the dim light of the room.

"Yes," he cocked his head to the side and pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh. You felt your legs shake against the taut flesh of his upper back, "Keep those pretty eyes on me, if you want to keep them attached to your head."

You trembled, the threat making your mouth dry up in less than a second. You licked your lips nervously.

Frank extended his tongue, and with the firm tip, he brushed against your clit. Your mouth fell open and you let out a low, keening noise from your throat as you felt him against your sensitive nerve endings. It felt so hot. Everything felt so hot. You realized you were sweating, your back slick against the floorboards. Or was it blood? Everything felt so surreal as you watched the patient between your legs flick his tongue on your throbbing flesh, up and down, up and down, then in circles. Slow, teasing circles. Then faster. His eyes still fixed on you, gauging your reaction as he licked your clit. You felt like your head was going to explode. Why did it feel so good? Why did he have to look so good, his aquiline nose pressed against the soft thatch of hair between your legs, his brows furrowed in concentration as he tried to make you scream? He grunted into you. He likes the taste, you realised as your eyes wandered down to his groin, thin white fabric barely containing his hardening length, a little wet spot gathering on the fabric as he licked your clit. He was enjoying this. It was too much.

"Fuck!" you cried out, hips stuttering against his jaw and he hummed, placing his mouth over your clit, his tongue against the underside and he sucked. The feeling of your throbbing clit, engulfed in the heat of his mouth, the pressure - it tore a guttural, raw sound from your throat as you heard him chuckle against your tender flesh. You couldn't help but throw your head back, against the floorboards and gasp as he went to town again, licking and nipping at your cunt hungrily, devouring your slick arousal, his hands moving from your thighs to underneath your bucking form to cup and squeeze at your ass. You moaned wildly, feeling how his sinewy, impossibly strong arms held your lower body in the air, your knees trembling around his shoulders as he licked incessantly at your wetness. Everything felt electrified, even the air around you. Your cunt throbbed and pulsed against his tongue, you could feel little sparks lighting up your abdomen as you felt your orgasm get closer.

No. You're not going to cum.

You screwed your eyes shut, frowning, your shoulders heaving as you felt the tingles in your lower belly get nearly unbearable.

"Oh, oh god -..." you whispered hoarsely, hips involuntarily bucking against his face. He chuckled, low and throaty, the laugh vibrating against your labia and you grunted, slapping the floor again.

"That's it," Frank took his mouth off of you and pressed a chaste kiss to your clit. It sent cool, spiky shivers up your spine, "Cum on my face, babe."

"No," you choked out, "I'm - not your... your... Fuck!" you felt his thumbs move and press against the cleft of your ass, bringing your train of thought to a screeching halt, his fingers massaging the flesh so close to your asshole. It was obscene. So wrong. But it felt good.

"Oh?" he grinned, giving your cunt a short, fast lick before chuckling at the way you shuddered, "You're gonna cum. I'll make sure of that. Such sweet, lovely flesh. Delicious."

You felt his hand move from your asscheek to your perineum and up your slit, his calloused fingers spreading your lips expertly. You watched, hypnotised, as he held your hips up with one strong hand, his other one spreading you, his thumb wandering down to your hole, putting light pressure on it, his hot breath fanning over your cunt as you squeaked pitifully.

"No, stop this, please," you shook your head, feeling your blood slosh around your head, the tingling pressure of his finger on your opening clouding your thoughts further, "Please, this isn't right. F-Frank -..." his name, meant to be a stern warning, turned into a wanton moan as you heard and felt him spit against your wetness, his fingers rubbing into the little puddle. Your clit felt like it was on fire.

"Shh," he cooed.

He pushed two fingers inside you, bottoming them out to his knuckles. He moaned along with you.

"So tight," he hissed, curling his fingers up against the spongy tissue of your g-spot. You yowled.

"No, don't!" you felt your trembling hands shoot up to the crown of his head, your brain ordering you to rip him off of you - yet, your hands stayed still on his hair, your fingers digging into his scalp as he curled and uncurled his fingers inside you.

"You wanna cum, I can tell," he rasped against you, digging his fingers into you, thrusting them in and out, rolling his wrist around.

"Please don't make me cum," you panted, the friction against your core so deliciously slippery, it made you see little white sparks behind your eyelids as you shut your eyes, "Please, don't make me. I can't. We can't."

"But you want to?" Frank's beard tickled the soft flesh of your inner thighs.

"Yes," you huffed out, your brain a scrambled, horny mess, "I want to cum."

Everything was so wrong. But the throbbing inside you wouldn't cease. You wanted it. But you didn't. But you did. And you knew it. You felt your abdomen tighten as he pumped his fingers in and out of you.

"All you need to say is 'please'," he flattened his tongue against your clit, giving it a firm flick, "Look at me."

You opened your eyes. His green eyes fixed on you. Cat-like. No, predatory. He hummed against your sensitive bud. Curled his fingers against your sweet spot. You sighed, relaxing into his grip. You rubbed your fingers against his scalp, tangling your fingers into the greying, silver threads. He was so handsome. Eating you out. You wanted to cum so bad.

You'd made your decision hours ago, you rationalised as you gave into the pleasure. Stay with him.

"Please," you bit your lip. Everything felt so hot.

Frank shifted on his butt, adjusted your thighs on his shoulders, sitting up straighter, the floorboards creaking as he gave you a grin and turned his gaze to your dripping cunt.

"So delicious," he sighed, "I can't say no. Not to you. Not to this little delicacy."

His fingers started pumping into you with ferocity, rolling around your insides, reaching deep into you as you felt his tongue on your clit again. Fast, deliberate licks, combined with the pistoning of his long fingers inside your pussy. You felt your jaw go slack, as your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you let out a throaty groan, rutting your hips in his face as he fucked you with his fingers, his tongue. You could feel his eyes on your heaving chest. His other arm supporting your butt, kneading the flesh as he sucked on your clit. You felt some pressure around your hole and winced as he added another finger. Three. Your body felt like it was on fire.

"So wet," he murmured, kissing your cunt sloppily, "All mine."

"Yes," you whispered, grinding against his nose, "I'm - so close. Frank..."

His brows furrowed as he grunted against your lower lips. Your toes curled at the sight of him devouring you, the feeling of his tongue against thousands and thousands of raw, sparkling nerve endings, his tongue flicking against your velvety folds, his fingers sliding in and out with lewd squelches, you felt a combination of his warm saliva and your own arousal drip down your ass and onto the floor below you. Your head was spinning as your loins burned, clenched and spasmed.

"Oh, god," you cried out, digging your nails into his scalp, your head lifting off the floor as you closed your eyes, braced for the inevitable.

The sheer force of your pelvic muscles releasing the coil inside you knocked the breath out of you. A million little fireworks settled themselves inside your abdomen as you heard yourself moan wildly, your hips stuttering against his nose as you rode out your orgasm on his face. Everything felt light, fluttery. You felt tears in your eyes as you panted and huffed, your muscles spasming in pleasure and you laughed, and laughed, a wave of happy, lovely chemicals washing over you, catching you in a wild riptide of ecstasy. You let go of his hair, bringing your hands to your chest, wringing them together as you tried to just breathe.

Frank slid his fingers out of you and grabbed your hips, plopping them onto his lap so that you lay on his crossed legs, your limp legs on either side of his slim body. He was panting. Flushed face, beads of sweat, a throbbing erection against your pulsing cunt, your arousals separated by thin elastane fabric.

"Holy shit," you choked out, lifting your hand to your forehead, covering your eyes as you tried to catch your breath.

Frank slid his fingers against your sensitive slit and you shuddered.

"So good," he murmured.

You gripped his wrist.

"No," you grunted, "Too sensitive."

"I need more," he whined, rubbing your clit with his thumb, his cock pressed against your backside.

Your brain felt fuzzy. You could distantly hear bangs and screams. Somewhere, maybe inside your brain. Maybe - maybe it wasn't so bad to stay here.

"Can I fuck you?" he breathed out, sliding his hands on your bare thighs and up your stomach to your nipples, "Can I please fuck you?"

You stared at him, trying to focus on his eyes.

"Yes-s-s," you hissed, feeling him pinch at your chest affectionately.

He reached under your ass and you felt the hot tip of his cock against your skin as he freed it from his underwear. Wet and throbbing. You giggled

"I've tamed you," he grunted, lifting his hips up so his length popped up from between your legs, the twitching underside flush against your cunt. You chewed on your lip. He rutted his hips up, his cock brushing against your overstimulated flesh.

"Not yet," you reached down between your legs, gripping him by the head, smiling weakly at him as you grew tired of your emptiness. You guided him inside you, his flesh sinking into you inch by inch. Frank whined, gripping the back of your knees.

He fucked three more orgasms out of you before you fainted, blissfully blacked out next to the puddles of blood and piss as he curled up beside you, sliding his finger against your abused cunt, feeling the quivering walls, slick with his cum. He murmured something to you. For hours on end, he spoke to you in hushed mutters, waiting for you to wake up.

"Sweet flesh. Tender flesh."

[outlustings]

Outlast 1 boys reacting to a pregnant reader? And maybe them as dads? your blog gives me life

(i am too lazy to do my uni essay. the next logical step is to write 5k words of horror video game characters being dads i guess.

includes miles, chris, the twins, rick, eddie, jeremy, frank and for some reason DENNIS!

includes graphic childbirth scenes - why????? idk???? just because????? and mentions of drug use because frank is frank.

also are they phantom pregnancies? is your greatest joy just a figment of your imagination, a continuation of your insanity bleeding into your reality? are you too, depressed, like the writer is? muahaha...

enjoy!)

×

MILES

"I'm - I'm gonna be a dad?" he gripped the steering wheel with such tightness that you thought he might break it. You nodded, smiling as tears prickled your eyes.

"Yup."

Miles let out a shaky sigh, then ran his fingers through his dark brown hair, smiling weakly before bursting into airy, light laughter.

"Babe, that's so -..." he swallowed, turning his head to you, nearly pouncing on you as he hurriedly leaned over to the passenger seat to embrace you, "That's awesome! When?"

"When what?" you giggled against his neck as he held you tight, rocking you clumsily. Maybe you should've told this after you got out of the car.

"When will - you -... holy shit! Like, give birth?"

He was stumbling over his words, his eyes wide and excited. Adorable, you thought, ruffling his hair as he buried his head into your chest.

"I don't know, maybe June," you shrugged, "We'll see."

Miles nodded, leaning back to take a good look at you, his face red and his hair messy, his eyes glistening.

"I'm gonna be a dad!" he blurted out, grinning so wide you thought his cheeks would split. A single tear rolled down to his sharp jawline.

                                       ×

The cold autumn air nipped at your nose as you sat on the park bench, your discarded mittens resting on the the bump of your belly as you held the small digital camera in your numb hands. The ground was covered in little piles of leaves underneath the stirring gray sky ablve Denver. You filmed the park, panning your camera to capture the old maple trees and the distant playground. Miles always liked these little clips you took, you thought. He stayed up for hours on end editing them into little movies that he would proudly present to the two, soon to be three, of you.

A small toddler girl ran from one edge of the frame to another, brown hair spilling in wisps from her beanie as she cackled, being chased by a hunched over Miles who was roaring theatrically.

"I got you!" he snatched your daughter to his chest, raising her up above his head and she squealed in delight as he spun her around in the air.

You laughed, ending the recording on a frame of Miles pressing a kiss to the child's cheek, holding her to his chest as she tried to squirm away.

"Mommy!" she yelled and you waved at her, shoving the camera into the pocket of your jacket.

"You wanna go to mommy?" Miles turned his head to you and grinned, "I'll race you."

He set your daughter to the ground and she started running, waving her limbs all about, stirring up flurries of red and gold leaves with her pink rubber boots.

Miles jogged behind her. You stretched your arms out and she bumped against your legs. You chuckled.

"Daddy's slow, isn't he?" you stroked her cheek as she turned her face to her father. Miles panted when he reached the bench.

"You won," he nodded to your toddler and swept strands of hair from his perspiring forehead, grinning at you, "Are you cold?"

"A little," you shrugged as your daughter climbed up on the bench, huffing with effort, clinging to your arm.

"Wanna grab a hot chocolate on the way home?" he gestured towards the other side of the nearby pond where the city's skyline collided with the heavy clouds, "I think it's gonna rain soon."

"Hmm," you hummed, stroking your belly with one hand while trying to keep your daughter from climbing over the back of the bench with your other hand, "My feet are tired, Miles."

"I'll rub them when we get home," he reached over to grab the girl from your grip and held her to his chest as she giggled, stirring in his arms.

"Fine," you smiled, "You better keep your promise."

Miles nodded, adjusting your daughter to his hip and reaching an arm to help you get off the bench.

"Pissing off a pregnant lady? Not on my bucket list."

"Miles!" you hissed, "Language!"

He grinned.

"I'm sorry, babe."

CHRIS

"You're kidding," his mouth was a thin line, his eyes fixed on yours, "Is this a prank?"

"No, not at all!" you shook your head with a laugh, "I'm pregnant. I swear. Took the test this morning," you flashed him a grin and grabbed the test from the edge of the sink, showing him, "See?"

Chris bent down to look at the test, still looking suspicious. Then his eyes widened and he smiled, letting out a laugh.

"Woah! Wait," he grabbed your wrist and his other hand shot up to his cheek as his mouth hung open, "Wait, I'm gonna be a father?"

You nodded, laughing.

"You need to sit down?" you patted his shoulder as he looked absolutely gobsmacked, leaning against the sink, his eyes fixed on the bathmat as he tried to process the news.

"Actually, yeah," he mumbled and sat on the toilet, burying his head into his hands for a second before looking up at you with the widest smile imaginable.

"You're pregnant," he huffed out a shaky laugh, taking your hand, "You're really pregnant."

You sat on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck, kissing his left temple as you stroked his back soothingly.

"You're so amazing," he breathed out, "A baby? What the hell...?"

You giggled.

"I know, this is crazy," you muttered against the collar of his uniform shirt, "But I think we'll be fine."

"Yeah," Chris sighed, placing his hand on your cheek and stroked it with his thumb, "I think so too."

                                        ×

You rocked your son in your lap, stroking his platinum hair between pats on his back, a towel slung over your shoulder.

"He ready?" Chris muttered, outstretching his arms.

"I got a few good ones out of him," you sighed, lifting the gurgling and cooing baby by his shoulders and placing it in his arms, "But I don't know, we'll see if he goes to sleep."

Chris nodded and left you to fold the dry towel back into the linen closet of your small bungalow's bathroom. You rubbed your temples, tiredness stinging every muscle in your body as you dragged your feet to follow Chris to the bedroom.

His large form was bent over the crib, the back of his t-shirt lifting up slightly as he placed the boy into his bed, his head brushing against the hanging stars of the mobile. You walked up behind him and tugged on his shirt.

"Thanks," he mumbled.

"You're welcome," you yawned, "Is he going to sleep?"

"He's not putting up a fight," Chris straightened his back and looked down at you as you reached over his side to stroke the infant's cheek. His eyes were already close. You didn't know how Chris did it. He had a pacifying effect on your son whereas with you, he only seemed to be as rowdy as a three-month old can be.

You smiled tiredly. Your eyes skimmed over the little embroidered shooting stars of his blanky, the pastel yellow giraffe resting near his feet and the washed-out, dusky pink pig toy that he had wrapped his tiny hands around, squishing it against his chubby cheek.

"He loves your piggy," you leaned your head against Chris' shoulder.

He nodded.

"They're matching," he pointed one thick finger to his pink romper, smiling gently.

"Oh yeah," you laughed, pressing a kiss to your boyfriend's upper arm, "Unintentional on my part."

"My three little pigs," he squeezed your hand gently, "One," he patted the head of the stuffed pig, "two," he pinched his son's toe, "three," he kissed your temple, his lips soothing your headache as the two of you stood over the crib in the soft hue of the nighlight.

THE TWINS

"Congratulations."

The deadpan delivery made you a little nervous. You thought you could see slight smiles on both of their faces in the flickering light of the cell. You felt a little annoyed, you had expected a far greater reaction. Maybe you were hoping for too much. You adjusted yourself on the bunk.

"That's it?"

"We're happy," the taller man said, "But you seem to be avoiding something."

"Which one of us is it?" his brother completed the question, kicking a stray pebble. You stared at them. You couldn't believe it. Why did they have to overthink now, out of all the situations in the whole wide world?

You clicked your tongue.

"Does it matter?"

"Only if it matters to you," the shorter man reached up to scratch at his head, ruffling his dark, spiky hair. You watched his hand, wondering for a fleeting moment if the baby would have the same kind of hair. Rough and thick. But smooth in your hands.

"It really doesn't," you squared your jaw, "I don't care. As long as the both of you are here with me. Don't leave me."

Maybe they heard the crack in your voice. They both turned their gazes to you, their eyes soft as they watched you from the shadows. You slumped forward, resting your elbows on your thighs. Then you heard the soft sound of their feet hitting the floor and two masses plopping on the mattress on either side of you. A warm, large hand rested on your shoulder.

"You're ours, forever," you heard the taller man grunt in your ear, "We will protect you."

"Our lamb, our dearest," his brother whispered, placing his hand on the slight curve of your belly. You leaned into his touch, revelling in the squish of their bodies pressed against you, shoulder to shoulder. You closed your eyes, relief washing over you.

                                       ×

You pressed your sweaty forehead against his bicep, your throat raw from screaming as you felt a fantastic emptiness below your ribcage as the wails of your newborn filled your ears, its purplish skin glistening with mucus and blood as you wiggled your fingers at the hands that held the baby above your abdomen.

"Give it to me," you sobbed with intense relief as the balding, taller man, your other partner, placed the baby in your arms, where his brother settled his own hand underneath the child's head, bringing it closer to you, shushing the infant with a low, gentle voice.

Your vision was blurry.

"What is it?" you grunted.

"A boy," he muttered in your ear, placing the child on your heaving chest and you wrapped your arms around your son, as tears rolled down your cheeks and you panted, smiling at your baby, only choked sobs coming from you.

"A boy!" the other man called out over his shoulder to the crack of the door, wiping his bloody hands on your thighs. The congregation hooted and hollered behind the door and you distantly heard Father Martin singing praises to the Lord over the rushing of blood in your ears.

"Oh, bless!"

"It's like Christmas!"

"Everyone shut the fuck up!"

You laughed tiredly at the voices behind the door but your laugh turned into a screech as you felt a burning sensation in your loins. Something was wrong.

"What is it?" the taller twin furrowed his brows as you shoved your son to his brother's arms, gripping the sheets underneath you and spreading your legs again.

"I think there's another one coming, fuck!" you bellowed, propping your body up on your elbows. The taller man ducked between your legs and you felt his hands and you saw and felt white hot iron spill all over you as you screamed, his brother's fingers intertwined between yours and you growled as you heard another wail join the chorus of terrific noise rattling inside your head.

You felt your lungs swell and everything hurt but you saw, at the end of another umbilical chord, another baby. Twins. You should've known.

"A girl," her father muttered, grinning to you as she reached her tiny fists to pound at your chest and you stroked her back and the world behind the door ceased to exist as the brothers looked down on you with tender eyes, holding their fruit in your tired, sweaty arms as you rocked them senselessly and breathed deeply, smiling at everything in the room before you slumped back on the shorter man's chest and closed your eyes, feeling two pairs of arms wiping you down and heard low muttering.

"You did so well, you did so well."

Your head spun.

RICK

"No way," Rick held your shoulders at an arms length, his fingers digging into your flesh as he shook you gently, "No way you're pregnant."

It was almost frightening how wide his eyes were.

"Yes, I am," you gave him a slight smile, testing the waters. A silence fell between the two of you. Your heart beat like crazy. He was never this quiet. You could almost hear the gears turning in his head, underneath those luscious greying curls.

Then, a wide grin flashed on his face. He huffed through his nose, straightening his back and he pulled you into a tight hug.

"Pregnant!" he exclaimed, letting out a breathy chuckle as he leaned his head back and fixed his eyes on you, his hands sliding from your shoulders to your cheeks, "We're having a baby!"

"Yeah," you nodded your head, laughing.

Rick leaned down to kiss you on the tip of your nose, squishing your cheeks gently as you pressed your hands on his chest, rubbing circles on his skin through the soft fabric of his pink dress shirt.

"Oh, you sweet thing," Rick sighed, pressing his forehead against yours, "You're too good to me."

                                       ×

You poured a handful of cereal to a shallow plastic bowl and set it in front of your daughter who was fiddling with her bib, tracing the stitches with her tiny fingers. You tickled her tummy and cooed at her before straightening your back and looking at Rick, who was making pancakes on the stove, flour and pieces of eggshell all over the counters.

He had insisted on making you breakfast since it was your birthday. Usually he took you to a restaurant on your birthday but after the birth of your daughter he wanted to stay home as much as possible.

You eyed his apron. A honeymoon gift from a colleague, or so he had claimed. "My meat is hand rubbed, well seasoned, aged to perfection and always hot". Rick always wore it when he was making you a little romantic breakfast. Never in the neighbourhood barbecues though.

"You're gonna have to get rid of that apron," you gestured towards his chest, holding back your laughter.

"Yeah, yeah, I will," Rick looked down and sighed, then straightened out the fabric of the front, "When she learns to read, I'll throw it out, okay? I'll part with my dear apron for your sake."

"No, you're good. If she's got your brains, it'll take ten more years," you smirked, pinching your daughter's cheek as she babbled in her chair, fingers dipped into the dry fruit loops in her cup.

"O-ho-ho!" Rick laughed dryly, turning his grinning face to you, eyebrows high, "You want to insult your personal chef now! I'll make sure I burn yours," he scoffed and waved the spatula at you like a medieval weapon.

You walked up to him and wrapped your arms around his waist from behind as he turned to the stove.

"You know I only say it because it's true," you grinned against his shoulder and reached up to kiss the nape of his neck. He shuddered.

"Ticklish!" he warned.

"Oh, are you now?" you giggled, skittering your fingers up to his armpits and he squirmed with laughter, your daughter squealing in her chair, clapping her hands together at the show.

"No, stop, honey, the stove is on," Rick laughed, "Please - have mercy!" he turned to you and grabbed your wrists, giving you a grin, wrenching your hands off of him.

"Can you behave?" Rick cocked his head towards your daughter who was still giggling. His laugh always made her hyper.

"No, and your pancakes are burning," you grinned and gave him a quick, sweet kiss on the lips. He kissed you back tenderly before registering your words and swearing under his breath, whipping his head around to face the stove. Your daughter giggled again and Rick's eyes flickered to her and his face softened.

"Daddy's a klutz, isn't he?" he cooed to her from across the kitchen, "Daddy should feed this to the neighbor's dog, right, princess?"

She laughed again in and jumped up and down in her chair. You saw Rick mouth an "awh" before turning back to the stove.

You licked your lips. How many kids did he say he wanted again?

EDDIE

"Yes, yes!" he bellowed, as he took you by your waist and lifted you several feet into the air, spinning you around while you pounded playfully on his chest with your fists, laughing as tears streamed down your face, "Finally! Oh, I love you, I love you!"

He pressed you to his chest which shook with emotion as he breathed in the scent of your hair. You stroked his broad shoulders, stifling your own sobs by biting your lip and pressing your head into his chest. A warm silence filled the air as Eddie pressed soft little kisses to the crown of your head, muttering softly. You felt him rock you gently to the tune of the old radio.

"My darling. The mother of my children. I can't believe it."

                                      ×

"She's beautiful, just like her mother," Eddie whispered to you as the both of you stood over the improvised cot, watching your newborn daughter wiggle inside the many layers of blankets you had managed to find in the vocational block.

Eddie bent down to his daughter, his eyes glistening with adoration and tenderness, stroking the curls of soft black hair on her little head. She whined, leaning into his hand.

"She's got your eyes," you sighed and massaged his shoulder, leaning down as well, your nose mere inched from the little bundle in the cot.

"Really?" Eddie murmured, rubbing the pinkness of her skin softly, "I thought they were yours, darling."

"They might change," you whispered, curling your finger under her chin, "Newborns often change a little bit. My hair wasn't this color for sure when I got out of the womb," you smiled at your groom as his massive frame covered the baby as he leaned down to kiss her forehead. Another little grunt spilled from her lips and she screwed her eyes shut, kicking at her covers tiredly.

"Well, I'll be here to see if something changes," Eddie nodded, straightening his back and placing his chin on the top of your head, "You should go rest, dearest."

You looked down at the dried streaks of blood running down your legs and chuckled.

"I should go get a bath."

"I'll come with you," Eddie said, kissing the top of your head and rubbing your waist with his hand, almost needily.

"What, and leave the baby here?" you looked up at him.

"Oh," Eddie blushed a little bit, "Yes, I -..."

"Almost forgot?" you giggled, bending down to pick up your daughter, cringing at the pain in your loins but being flooded with oxytocin almost immediately after your skin touched hers.

"No!" Eddie blurted out defensively.

You turned to him with your newborn daughter in your arms.

"Take her," you said softly, standing on the tips of your toes, placing her in his arms, "Mind the head. Just like that."

Eddie gasped softly when you placed the child onto his hands for the first time. He looked at the stirring bundle of rags and pink, wrinkly skin and smiled, his eyes glinting in the dim light.

"She's tiny," he sighed, "Our baby. My god," he sniffled a little bit, exhaling deeply. You leaned over to kiss his cheek, stroking his forearm. The legacy he had always wanted. Here. Finally.

JEREMY

"Wait, what?" he lifted up the rickety plastic test that you had placed in front of him with his morning espresso, fixing his steely blue eyes on you "What's this?"

You just smiled, sipping your tea.

"What is this?" he repeated, wiggling the pregnancy test at you. Then something clicked.

"Are you pregnant?" Jeremy's voice was shaky, still hoarse from sleep as his eyes flickered between you, your stomach, and the red lines on the stick of plastic.

You nodded into your mug.

He leaned back on his chair, his face blank for a moment. Then he threw his arms up, his eyes much brighter, all tiredness washed away.

"You're pregnant!" he yelled, exasperated, his face melting into a smile, "I fucking knew it!" he rushed over to you in less than a second, his coffee cup clattering loudly against the marble of the countertop as he slammed it down, freeing his hands. You laughed as he wrapped his arms around you, the scent of his aftershave filling your nose as he kissed you, bitter coffee lingering on his lips.

                                      ×

"I'm home!" you called out from the hall, pulling the door shut with a heavy thump, kicking off your boots. You could already smell the scent of some microwave meal from the kitchen mixed with the scent of Jeremy's cologne. The distant jingle of a kids' show. You shook off your coat and started walking towards the living room, leaving your shopping bags on the doormat, fancy tissue paper rustling against sturdy bags with even fancier logos printed on them.

"Hey," you peeked your head in through the open entryway of the living room, the lacquered surfaces of sleek black furniture reflecting pastel colors from the massive plasma TV on the opposite wall. You could hear light snoring coming from the designer couch. You smiled and walked over to your husband, leaning down on the outside back of the couch.

He was sleeping in an upright position with your son curled up in his lap, Jeremy's feet slung over the glass coffee table. A bad habit. Stray crayons and colouring books littered the expensive carpet. Your son let out a whistling huff from his nose and shifted on his father's lap.

"Jer," you whispered softly, brushing your fingers against his hair, leaning over from behind him to place hover your chin over is shoulder, "Jer, wake up."

Jeremy jolted awake, looking around him in a few milliseconds of tired panic, spotted you and smiled.

"Hey, honey," he sighed, "We were just watching..." he narrowed his eyes at the television, "Super-d-... Wait, Super-dog and friends? Yeah. That."

"I see," you kissed his cheek, resting your chin on his shoulder, looking down at your son, "Had fun colouring?"

"He stole my pen," Jeremy pointed to the floor where a crudely drawn stick figure with too many fingers smiled with empty eyes beside a sloppily coloured Winnie the Pooh page. Some scribbled text on the bottom. MY DAD WORKS ATT MERKOF.

You chuckled.

"You guys are too cute," you rubbed his shoulder, "Wanna take him to bed? I brought some wine."

Jeremy stretched before wrapping his arms around your son, lifting him up carefully against his chest.

"He's gotten big," he remarked with a strained voice.

"Four years go by pretty fast," you hummed, stroking your son's red cheek with the back of your hand.

"Feels like yesterday."

"It really does."

"You haven't aged a day," Jeremy's eyes flicked to you and he smiled tenderly, "Gorgeous," he added.

You winked.

"Get him to bed, I'll go open the wine."

FRANK

"Huh?"

He finished licking the edge of the joint, his mouth hanging open slightly as his eyes fixed on your face.

"I'm pregnant," you repeated, slightly louder, "So you better not light that," you gestured to his hands.

Frank blinked at you, his face blank.

"A baby? We're gonna have a baby?"

The corners of his lips dipped down. For a second you thought he might burst into tears. Then a strained roar came from him as he jumped up from the dingy couch and jumped up to you, gripping your hands and leading you around the living room while jumping up and down in a frenzied dance, laughing with tears in his eyes.

"We're gonna have a baby," you hugged him tight, joining his feverish movements as the two of you jumped up and down like idiots, the creaking of the floorboards below you making you laugh, "We're gonna have a baby!" he yelled.

Someone pounded on the wall from the next apartment over.

"You're sure?" he stilled, panting, lifting his hands to your cheeks, "You're definitely sure?"

You nodded.

He kissed you, his scraggly beard scraping against your skin, his bare chest pressing to you.

"Oh, angel, I -... I have to..." Frank breathed against you, his eyes widening again, "I have to call my mama!"

You threw your head back and laughed as he vaulted over the back of the couch, skidded on the floor with his hole-speckled socks and dove into the bedroom in less than two seconds. You down, taking his joint from the floor between your fingers and shoving it in between the couch cushions. For safe keeping. He would need it in a few months. But from now on he had to smoke outside.

                                       ×

"Mom, mom," you felt a little hand smack your shoulder and you buried your head deeper into your pillow. You woke up in a jolt.

"What is it?" you groaned, your eyes crusty with sleep, "What's the time?"

"It's six a.m," you heard your daughter's giddy voice. You could tell from her voice she was grinning ear to ear. No emergency. Probably. Then you realized that her voice sounded kind of muffled.

You moaned. You still had an hour before your alarm would go off. But it seemed like your alarm was here. With lots of effort, you rose up and rubbed your eyes.

Your daughter was standing by your bedside, a sheet draped over her like a veil and a latex skeleton mask on her face. It was way too big for her. A silence filled the room. Then you could hear her breathe in deeply.

"I'm Santa Muerte," she whispered dramatically.

You stared.

"You're what now?"

Her shoulders slumped.

"Da-ad!" she yelled over her shoulder at the open door of the bedroom, "Mom doesn't know who I am!"

"Mom what?" you heard Frank's voice from the kitchen. They were both so loud.

Your daughter inhaled, ready to scream louder but you shushed her.

"Of course you're -... What's with the costume, baby?"

She shrugged, peeling the mask off of her face, giving you a gap-toothed smile.

"It was my idea," you heard Frank say as he appeared in the doorway, and to your surprise, was carrying a tray of food, still clad in his sleep attire. Faded boxers and an old band shirt.

"Oh, angel," you smiled at him tiredly, "You shouldn't have."

"I wanted to," he grinned behind his beard, "Happy mother's day."

You had forgotten.

"Oh, yeah," you mumbled as he set the tray on your nightstand and leaned in to kiss your cheek as you propped yourself up on your pillows.

"I wanted to scare you," your daughter grumbled and reached for a slice of toast but Frank snatched her wrist.

"Mom first," he said sternly, then his face twisted into a quizzical expression, "Why'd you want to scare mom? I thought you just wanted to perform some metal or something. The mask was mine," he added to you as you giggled into your slice of bread, swiping crumbs off the sheets.

Your daughter shrugged again.

"Thought it would be fun."

Frank opened his mouth to protest his involvement but you just laughed, ruffling your daughter's long black hair.

"Weirdo," you took another bite of bread and offered the rest of it to her as she scooted up to sit on your legs. Frank sat on the edge as well, taking your hand, rubbing his thumb on the cheap ring he'd bought you ages ago, eyeing the way the gold glinted in the dim light of the bedroom.

"Don't even think about replacing it," you warned and shoved a piece of toast in front of his mouth and he smiled before taking a bite.

DENNIS

"W-well I'll be goddamned," he grinned, enclosing your hand in both of his, lifting the bundle to his lips and placing a tender kiss to your fingers, "Y'all hear that? Me, a-a daddy? Shit..."

You laughed, reaching up to place a kiss on his cheek as he cradled your hand in his grip, so softly, like he was holding a baby bird.

"Don't get all soft on me, Dennie," you giggled, "You're going to make me cry."

He shook his head.

"D'you think th-they'll like him?"

"Who? The baby?"

He nodded, his grin twisting into a solemn look, his dark brown eyes fixed on yours, glimmering with intense happiness and even more intense worry.

"I'm sure they will," you whispered and stroked his cheek, "All that matters is me and you right now, okay?"

He nodded again.

                                      ×

"Hey, lil' guy," Dennis cooed, stroking your son's tiny, pink and wrinkled face with his index finger as he wailed and screeched in his arms, "He's sure g-got a pair o' lungs on him," he turned to you, chuckling as you held your arms open, as you tried to ignore the searing pain between legs. You were flooded with a need to hold your newborn. Hold them both. Your Dennie and his little boy.

"Give him to me," you sighed with a weak smile, "And get us a rag. We need to clean him."

Dennis placed the newborn onto your chest and he writhed against you as you rocked the child, shushing him gently.

"Careful, he's slippery," he cocked his head, flashing a wide toothy smile as he eyed the two of you, "They thought I didn't have enough man in me," he sighed.

"We shut them up," you winked at him and he nodded, reaching over to the side table, retrieving a torn piece of cloth and placing it in your outstretched hand.

"We showed 'em."

×

(screaming and crying and sobbing and shitting into my pillow rn because i can never be a baby mommy for fictional insane men)