Limerence and Apologies
No one asked for this but I need to put something out and I've been sitting on this for a LONG ass time. Morgan and Chihiro belong to @love-toxin or @yanverse and I've been very fond of him and Umi for a long, long time and used to check Ellie's page religiously. This is my tribute to you, thank you for being a big inspiration! (If you'd like me to remove the tag, just let me know) Dividers by @/cafekitsune
This fic is for: anyone who can handle it! Body parts and pronouns are kept neutral.
TW FOR: Kidnapping, DUBCON, "soft" yandere behavior, item insecurity, abusive/problematic family members and dynamics, mentions of tasing. If I've forgotten anything, please tell me!
You don’t know your roommate’s last name.
Alright, if you’re honest with yourself, he is not your roommate, but the nature of your relationship is strange to begin with, what with the whole taser fiasco and the not being able to leave, so it’s easier to pretend that you’re here on purpose and he is your roommate.
He’s out right now, probably at work. Before he kissed you goodbye- yes, he kissed you goodbye- he seemed a bit… fragile. Like he was trying to hold himself together, but when you asked if he was alright, he laughed it off and told you that he’d come back as soon as possible and that Chihiro was coming over later as he grabbed his mobility cane.
So you’re idly wondering about him. Morgan is a really sweet man, if you discount the whole taser fiasco, but Chihiro kind of freaks you out. They’re also sweet- possibly more so than Morgan, but there’s something a tad uncanny about them, and you can never feel very relaxed around them because of that. It’s wholly a you problem.
It dawned on you, however, that despite Chihiro telling you their last name, Morgan never has told you his. You suppose it’s just never come up in conversation, but he knows yours, so why don’t you know his?
Maybe it’s just another level of disconnect that you created to protect yourself after the taser fiasco. Really, it was your fault. You probably just startled him when you went to unlock the front door. Why wouldn’t he attack what he maybe thought was a home intruder with a concentrated jolt of electricity to the kidneys? He couldn’t see you and you didn’t announce yourself or that you were leaving.
Maybe it’s just you keeping distance where there shouldn’t be any. You call him your roommate, but the two of you function more like a long-term couple. You sleep in the same bed that he fucks you in, you share food and kisses, and despite his impairment, he swears up and down that he goes to work just so he can get excited about seeing you when he gets home.
So… maybe your roommate is a bit more than that. Just as you finish realizing that little factoid, you hear a knock at the door. You lost your phone around the same time that Morgan invited you over and insisted that you belonged here, so you get up, expecting to see Chihiro.
“Morgan’s still out- oh.”
Much like Morgan’s last name, you don’t know this woman standing at the door. She smiles stiltedly at you and peers over your shoulder, as though expecting to see someone behind you. When she looks back at you, her smile is stretched a bit too wide.
“Hello… dear. I was under the impression that a young man named Morgan lived here?"
“Uh…?” You’re not sure what to say. Morgan lives here, but so do you, and he’s never… mentioned an older woman to you.
She pushes past you before you can formulate a better response to her question. Her brown eyes are devoid of warmth, and she looks around as though she belongs there.
“Wait a second, Morgan isn’t- he’s not here right now, so you’re going to have to come back later.” You approach the woman and try to give her a smile.
She looks at you like you’re stupid, then takes a seat on the couch, where you had been sitting before you got up, “I have time to wait.”
There’s no real way for you to ask Morgan about this, or, better yet, call the cops. Since you lost your phone and Chihiro isn’t here yet, you kind of just have to wait. You walk into the kitchenette and put on some hot water for tea, occasionally popping your head around the wall to see what this strange lady is doing. She’s watching you. You dislike that.
Morgan almost always knows where you are when he’s here, so you would think that you’d be used to the feeling of being watched, but since Morgan is blind, he doesn’t stare at you. He’ll have a hand on your leg, an arm around your shoulders if you’re close enough, but his presence is, more often than not, a comforting one. You would think otherwise, considering that he tased you, but he assured you it was a mistake, a one-time thing.
Whatever. The whole point is that Morgan is incapable of watching you in the manner that this woman is, and you don’t like it. It’s pissing you off, frankly. You decide to stay in the kitchen, if only to keep away from her for a moment longer. You dig some frozen quick-dinner out of the back of the freezer and pop it in the oven. As you’re waiting, you hear the sound of the front doorknob jiggling, and make a beeline for the door.
Obviously it’s Morgan. He’s humming under his breath and looks a bit taken aback when you wrench the door open. His surprise turns into a pleasant smile, a laugh in his voice.
“Well, I’m happy to see you t-” He begins, but you cover his mouth before he can finish the sentence. His large, warm hand comes up to cradle yours, impossibly gentle as he pulls it away from his face, “What’s gotten into you?”
“Th-there’s a lady?” You whisper back, “I opened the door ‘cause I thought Chihiro was here and she pushed her way in and I didn’t know what to do.”
Morgan makes possibly the scariest face you’ve ever seen him make. He’s usually smiling, but his face falls into an angry frown at the mention of the woman. He switches hands, holding yours with the one that he has his keys and mobility cane in, then gently eases you behind him.
He’s usually something of a leisurely walker. He meanders, but right now, he storms into the living room, and the woman jumps, not expecting his sudden entrance. Her surprise turns into happiness, and you think that you’re kind of starting to pierce together the pieces.
“Oh, Morgan! My precious baby! How have you been?” She stands and walks towards Morgan, her hands outstretched.
The minute she gets a bit too close, Morgan frowns deeper and moves out of her range. His hand moves vaguely over his shoulder, where she just barely grazed with her fingertips, and he swings his mobility cane behind him until it taps you in the ankle, making sure you’re still there.
“What do you want?” He grits out, his voice the coldest you’ve ever heard. You place a hand on his arm and he tenses further.
The woman frowns, “Well, I just wanted to see my child.”
“Great. You’ve seen me. Goodbye.”
There’s a tense silence and the woman- Morgan’s mother- sighs, “You know, you don’t have to live this way. I’ve been doing some research and I know a good place, one that could help you so you’re no longer living in sin. I just want the best for you, Morgan. I care about you.”
Morgan reaches his arm back to grab you. His hand catches your wrist, then slides down to squeeze your palm before he lets out a sigh, “It’s time for you to leave. I don’t need help.”
You smell the lasagna you put in the oven. You know Morgan does as well, but he doesn’t say anything or make any indication of it. The woman sniffs and grabs her purse.
“You have my number if you need anything.” She places her hand on Morgan’s arm and he shakes her off. She looks at him as though he spat in her face and leaves, closing the door behind her.
Then there’s another tense silence. Morgan lets go of your hand and walks into the bedroom, and you listlessly pull the now-cooked frozen lasagna out of the oven, placing it on the counter before you walk into the bedroom behind Morgan.
“I’m here.” You announce.
He’s sitting on the bed in his silly dog-patterned boxers and gray socks, nothing else as he holds his head in his hands. You ease his hands out of his hair and take a seat on his lap, smiling at him even though he can’t see it.
“Are you alright?” You ask.
He looks tormented. His arm curls around your waist and he pulls you a little closer so he can rest his forehead on your shoulder.
His voice is rough when he speaks, “Did she do anything to you?”
“No. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to let her in.”
“I don’t blame you. I should have known she was gonna show up after she called me yesterday.” He mumbles, his nose pressed against your shoulder. “You mind calling Chihiro and asking them to pick up some new locks on their way here?”
“Oh, wow, I get to use your phone?” You tease, “Sure. I don’t mind.”
His cheeks flush at your benign teasing, but he smiles anyways, his lips brushing against your shoulder, “I think my phone is still in my pants on the other side of the bed.”
You mumble your understanding and crawl around Morgan’s stocky form, leaning over the side of the bed as you dig around in your roommate’s discarded jeans. You feel his hand trail up your calf and he sucks in a breath, unsureness dancing on his tongue. You cast a glance at him over your shoulder and dial Chihiro.
“Hello!” Chihiro is so sweet. Their voice as they sing their greeting is all the evidence you need, but as usual, there’s something a little… off about it.
“Hey, how are you?”
“Oh, it’s you! I’m doing well, how are you?” They ask.
“I’m doing okay.” Morgan’s hand rests on the swell of your ass, and you glance back at him again. It doesn’t deter him, since he can’t see the look on your face, “Uh, hey, are you still coming over?”
Chihiro hums, and Morgan’s wandering fingers hook in your bottoms, tugging them down as he crawls over you. His hands smooth over your ass and split your cheeks. He licks his fingers and trails them through the crack, nails first until he reaches your entrance, where he smears his spit almost lovingly.
“M-Morgan?” You mutter, still waiting for Chihiro’s response.
Morgan is grinning like a dirty pervert as he arches over your back and tugs his boxers down, resting his cock against your slightly slicked-up entrance. As he pushes in, he peppers kisses on as much of your skin as his lips can reach.
Chihiro’s hum stops abruptly and you can hear the smile in their voice, “I should be able to, yes. Unfortunately, I may be a little later than usual. Why do you ask?”
You swallow and try to speak evenly, “W-well, uh… M-Mor- Morgan…” You accidentally moan his name, having all the sense to be embarrassed but none of the sense to stop him as he places a hand on your hip and begins thrusting, “S-sorry, Morgan wanted to know if you were willing to pick up some new door locks?”
“Oh, I can do that. I was planning on stopping by the store regardless. The two of you only eat junk, ahaha!”
You grimace at that, both because you’re almost certain you’ve never seen Chihiro eat a single thing, and also because Morgan is panting in your ear as he ruts into you. He kisses the shell of it.
“Keep talking.” He grunts.
Something about the tone of his voice sends a hot flush of… something, maybe shame, maybe arousal, probably both, up your spine.
“Uh- ah, th-thank you, Chi-Chihiro!” The second you started talking, Morgan thrust faster, harder. Your voice cracked as you tried to keep composure, “Sorry- W-we both appreciate i-it…”
Chihiro giggled again, “Not to worry. Tell Morgan I said hello… although I’m certain he can hear me.”
Morgan’s hand came up to cup the one holding his phone, and as you slumped forward, you could hear the smile in his voice.
“Heh, guess I’m busted. Thanks again, Chihiro. My partner made something, I haven’t checked what yet, so maybe bring some drinks too? We’ll pay you back for this.”
Chihiro responded with something, likely a very polite, cheery, “Not to worry! We can make an event of it, it’ll be fun!” You don’t hear them. Your head is spinning too badly as Morgan fucks a you-shaped hole into the mattress.
You hear Morgan mumble, “Yup, seeya,” and then he’s on top of you again, his hands snaking up your sides as he kisses as much skin as he can handle.
You cry and moan, Morgan complimenting you under his own breathy noises, and then your orgasm hits you. You arch upwards into his touch, squealing and Morgan cradles you close, his lips at your jaw and his own climax chasing yours.
As the two of you slump, you weakly place a hand in Morgan’s unruly mop of hair and grunt, “What’s your last name?”
Morgan giggles like a gossipy schoolgirl, “Lane. Why?”
“Lane.” You repeat.
“Mmhmm… Did you want to share it?”
“Yeah.” You can’t help yourself, “That sounds kinda nice.”
Morgan squeaks and buries his face in your shoulder. You put your first name and his last name together, and it flows a lot better than you think it should.
