"My name's Blurryface and I care what you think" shook the thin walls of Mothman's bedroom, threatening to make the Suicide Squad posters fall. He couldn't even see his boyfriend Chris Redfield through the ungodly thick vanilla-scented fog.
From the moist cloud (as opposed to dry clouds), emerged a hand holding the vape pen they were sharing. Mothman took it in his weird moth-hands and held it to his weird moth-mouth, taking a deep drag. He tried to blow a smoke ring, but couldn't tell if he succeeded because of how densely packed the room already was with vape.
"Luva Bug! I have cheese and crackers and grapes for you boys!" came the lovely call of a lovely moth-lady.
"God, leave them outside the door," screamed mothman angstily.
"Thank you, mothmom, please enter with the food" called Chris Redfield, his dick was hard luckily the copious amounts of vape hid his semi.
The door opened slowly, allowing some of the fog to escape the room. Mothman's mothmom entered carrying a tray of triscuits, medium cheddar, and green seedless grapes sliced in half. The two boys salivated at the tasty snacks, although in Chris's mind, Mothmom was a tasty snack, not that he could ever tell his boyfriend that.
"Such a sweet boy you are, Christopher," cooed Mothmom as she set down the platter on her son's desk. Chris watched her bend over and was deeply turned on by the sway of her ass.
"Ew mothmom, get out of my room. You smell like mothballs," Mothman scoffed at his dear old mom.
"Oh, Flutterby..." She blushed, trying to play her son's insult off as a joke.
"Hey, don't talk to your mom like that!" said Chris, "that's not appropriate."
"Shut up Chris, she's just a woman," Mothman laughed horribly.
Mothmom decided to make a swift exit while the two lovers quarreled.
"I don't like the way you talk to your mama," Chris said through gritted teeth.
"I don't like the way you talk to my mama either," Mothman replied, clenching a moth-hand into a tight fist. The two partners had a screaming match over the Twenty One Pilots that was still blaring.
"I don't love you anymore," Chris finally cried.
"I never loved you," Mothman said plainly.
Chris stood, gathered his jacket and his vape and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. The Suicide Squad poster fell to the ground, crumpled like their relationship.
But before Chris could head back to the Umbrella Corp barracks, he needed to take a sick whiz.
He wandered the swanky halls looking for the bathroom. Usually he and Mothman peed together in bottles in his room (for later use). The layout of the house was labyrinthine, like the nest of a moth. He opened door after swanky door, his bladder growing larger with each passing second. Until finally he found what he was looking for.
As Chris opened the final door on the left side of the hallway, steam poured out of the room, not unlike the vape he had just been sitting in.
"Hello?" came a feminine voice from deep in the steam.
"Oh sorry Ms. Mothmom, I just needed to take a sick whiz, but I can wait until you're done in here" Chris said quickly turning to exit the bathroom.
"No wait!" she called, emerging from the white mist. Chris paused and looked back at her. She was wrapped in a Minions beach towel and nothing else, it looked scratchy against her soft conditioned fur. Water droplets clung to her sexii form, dripping slowly and sensually down her curves.
Sproing went his erection at the erotic sight.
She slowly approached Chris, her hands tracing the top edge of the towel before untucking the corner and letting the faces of Bob, Stuart and whatever the third one is called fall to the ground. Her perky 34C's were now clearly in view. Furry nips pointed directly at Chris's erection like tiny dowsing rods, they seemed to follow her gaze.
Chris stepped closer to Mothmom closing the distance between them, his eyes focused on her nipples. She reached out and began to unbutton his shirt, and soon their bare chests were pressed together as they shared a sloppy kiss. Her moth-mouth was weird but not uncomfortable, he was used to kissing her son after all.
"You know, I always need a little help scrubbing between my wings. Could you... lend a hand?" she murmured between kisses. Chris dropped his pants, no underwear.
The two horndawgs headed into the large shower. She turned on the twin waterfall shower heads, cocooning them in warm water and steam.
Chris grabbed a loofah and began to scrub.
Theybang.
Six months later, Chris and Mothmom stand at the altar, surrounded by their loving friends and family. A catholic priest stands between them, reading from the Bible.
Chris looked out into the pews, his heart warmed by all the love and support in the room for his union with the love of his life, Mothmom. However, there was one sour grape in the bunch.
Mothman sat in the front row, arms crossed, scowling. His eyes concentrated on his ex-lover and soon-to-be step-father. Chris gave a shrug and a wink, then turned back to his beloved.
"Do you, Chris Redfield, take this moth-woman to be your lawfully wedded moth-wife, to have and to hold..." The priest was interrupted by Chris.
"Wait. I don't want to be Chris Redfield anymore. That man has done so many terrible things, I am not him anymore. I want you to call me Roy. Roy Mothman."
The priest nodded, and re-asked the question, now with his newly adopted name.
"I do."
A loud blast echoed through the room. Chris put a hand to his stomach and looked at it, stained red with his blood. He collapsed, falling from the dais at the front of the church.
Mothmom shrieked in fear and horror, running to her groom and cradling his head in her moth-lap. She looked out into the crowd to see who had shot the love of her life.
Standing in the front row was her son, holding a big-ass gun, smoke sizzling from the barrel.
Tears rolled down her fuzzy moth-face, "Why lova bug? Why would you do this to me?"
"He dumped me. And I hate women, they don't deserve happiness," Mothman stated. He was about to turn the gun on himself, but one of his burly uncles tackled him from the side, knocking the gun from his grip.
"Not today, you little shit," said the uncle, his foot pressed against Mothman's throat.
"Mothmom..." Chris whispered weakly, life quickly leaving his body, "Will you take me to be your husband?"
"Yes! Yes, of course!" Mothmom cried.
With shaking, bloodstained hands, Chris took the ring from the ring bearer and placed it on Mothmom's moth-finger. His hands fell away as death finally overtook him. A heartbreaking sob escaped from Mothmom's newlywed moth-mouth, as she clutched her beloved.
THE END