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unstablecharlie · 5 months ago

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corruption begins with the mouth

Ken's morals are strong, but things have quickly spiraled out of the jurisdiction of him and his morals. Like a lab rat watching another animal get zapped over and over, Ken can always put his pride aside if it means keeping the group safe.

evilfies/ken drabble that. got away from me a little bit and became a oneshot and then became an au. thank you to saiint for naming this because i didn't want to.

the fic is sfw, but ken is kissed without consent and evilfies is kind of generally a creep. don't know how that happened. enjoy

read on ao3 // 2k words // divider

"Then you don't know what people want—I promise, it would be better in every way if he solved it by himself."

"What people want…" Wifies mutters darkly, "What do you know about what people want?"

A hand reaches out; Ken flinches back against the hard line of diamonds on instinct, expecting to be struck or– or something. Instead, Wifies' hand smooths over his ears, down his jaw to grab Ken's chin and tilt his head back. What the fuck?

Wifies stares down at him passively—Ken stares back, even as his body seizes up with the want to turn away. He becomes more aware of his heartbeat by the second, thudding fast against his ribcage. Predator, Ken thinks, you need to–

"What do you think people want to do to you?"

"What?" Ken croaks. Ineloquent. God, why does he feel so stupid suddenly? Wifies hums above him. It's a distinctly pitying sound.

"You know, there are plenty of people who want you dead," Wifies says. Ken opens his mouth to– not protest, more like I don't need you to tell me that, but Wifies continues, "There are plenty of people who wish they could have you where I have you."

Wifies leans forward. There's a puff of breath against Ken's lips, and then– Wifies kisses him. Ken's brain screeches to a halt.

By the time he catches up to reality, Wifies has both hands around Ken's head, fingers digging into his neck, pressed close and cutting off any exits. Trying to shove himself backwards to get away only pushes him more against the stone and the ore; trying to verbally protest gets him a thumb hooked into his mouth to hold it open while Wifies shoves his tongue in. Ken can't bite down, he can't disengage, and digging his claws into Wifies' arms and shoulders only earns him a groan. Wifies' voice shakes down Ken's throat. What the fuck, what the fuck?

It's messy and gross; Wifies kisses him like Ken isn't even alive to care—Ken makes a noise like he's dying. Saliva pools at the corners of his mouth and leaks until it's wetting the high collar of his shirt. Why, why, why? Did he provoke this somehow? He's never even talked to this guy before, why–?

It feels like an eternity before Ken's freed, and even then, Wifies keeps his finger pressed firmly against Ken's tongue. Ken pants and awkwardly tries to swallow around the intrusion dangerously close to his throat, flushed down to his chest with humiliation and indignation and– nothing else, he thinks, desperately and unconvincingly, just those two things. Wifies clicks his tongue and smiles like he's watching a kitten struggle up a too-large staircase.

"He'll hear you if you're too loud," the canine says. It takes Ken a moment to realize what he means, and he sputters as he remembers the other Wifies in the escape room. Did he really just forget? Ken– Ken clamps his lips shut and struggles harder, hissing as he tugs at Wifies' wrists.

"Shut up," Ken snaps as soon as he regains control of his jaw. He gives himself away by dropping his voice quieter—the other Wifies can't see them from here, but he could come up the ladder at any moment and– and the idea of someone else seeing this– "What the hell is wrong with you?"

His anger gets him nowhere. Wifies' hands drop to his upper arms, keeping Ken firmly against the pile, and Ken isn't tall or strong enough to shrug him off.

"It would be bad," Wifies says, mildly, "if he saw me."

Ken stills.

It's not an outright threat, but the insinuation is obvious. The other Wifies doesn't know… if he did, he'd have to be disposed of—Ken realizes the plan is to dispose of him anyway, but… No, no, he can't let that happen. He just needs to play along until he can find a way to get both of them out of this.

"Good girl," Wifies croons. Ken nearly bites his tongue off.

"What do you want?" Ken tries. If Wifies was going to get rid of him, surely he would've made a move to by now, instead of doing… whatever this is.

Wifies continues as if Ken hadn't spoken at all. "I bet right now, you're trying to find a way to escape, aren't you? Are you thinking about trying to take 24 with you?"

24 is… the clone? They can't all be called Wifies, Ken supposes, but something about the number makes Ken uneasy. They're really just… clones, but watching him all this time, even from a distance—he had seemed alive. Ken can't tell if Wifies wouldn't agree or if he just doesn't care. All the unknowns make Ken feel off-kilter and dizzy in just the worst of ways. Knowing is supposed to be what he does.

"That isn't going to happen," Wifies says. He's taken a hand off Ken's bicep, satisfied that the cat-hybrid isn't going to bolt, and presses his thumb into Ken's cheek instead. "You're a threat to my business. I can't let you leave."

"... I won't say anything," Ken says slowly. It's a lie and it's a bad one. Wifies laughs at him.

"You think I don't realize that you've been filming?"

Goddamnit. It was a long shot, anyway.

"Did you get a good recording of our kiss?" Wifies whispers like they're sharing a secret. Ken's ear flicks at the feeling of breath puffing against it. "You could post that. You'd make a lot of people happy."

Ken has to have done something to deserve this. He doesn't know what, but why else would this be happening? It's always his fault. He can never leave well enough alone. This isn't the first time he's landed himself in hot water by sticking his nose somewhere it didn't belong, but it's the first time in a long time he can't see a way out. He might be able to leave, but what about the other Wifies? This guy said he'd be scrapped, and maybe Ken shouldn't care, but he does—he's not going to get out to save his own skin and forsake the living, breathing person in the room below them. He knows it, and the Wifies in front of him knows it, too. But what can he do?

Wifies leans in again; Ken tenses.

"I– I can help you!"

The words are out before Ken can think about it—he has to talk now before he's cut off again. He just needs to buy time, stall. He can figure the next part out later as long as he gets through this part alive. Wifies pulls back enough to stare him down again, one eyebrow raised. He doesn't call Ken on it immediately, so… Ken swallows around his pride.

"They're just escape rooms, right? I'm good at those—at making puzzles. Famous for it, even! I can help." Ken pauses, "And—and!—if I put out a good word for the legitimacy of your videos, no one else will snoop. Your business will be safe. People trust me."

He hates saying it, people trust me, but it's true and it's a useful bullet to load. He's here because people asked; the majority will listen to whatever "conclusion" he draws, and the minority will be easier to handle. Promising to lie makes an awful, awful sensation crawl up his spine and then settle into his stomach, like he's got bugs in his intestines, like a violation. It's an affront to everything he stands for; he feels like a worm struggling under a boot. Wifes looks interested, though, and that matters more. Ken will squirm for as long as he needs to.

"And what do you get out of that?" Wifies asks.

Ken gets nothing, but it's always been like that.

"If you let… 24 live," Ken starts, stops, takes in a breath. "Not leave, just live—I'll help you."

It's so hard to read Wifies' expression, even with some distance between them now. Ken never has been good at reading people, but it's so odd. The Wifies on screen—the one in the escape rooms—was always subdued, but this Wifies observes Ken like a machine. Ken tries to maintain eye contact and it feels like staring into the blinking, red light of a security camera.

"I don't reuse the clones," Wifies says.

"There has to be a way," Ken tries not to sound desperate and fails miserably. "Can't you wipe his memories or something? He doesn't have to know."

He will know, one day, Ken promises. He just has to get there, he just has to get there—Ken repeats it to themselves over and over in the ensuing silence. He just has to get them both there.

"I'll cooperate," Ken talks quieter, weaker. He thinks about Wifes' lips on his and slides a hand, slowly, up the dog-hybrid's arm to his shoulder. "Whatever you want."

Are you lonely? Ken thinks. Is that it?

"... Alright, Kenadian." Wifies steps back—Ken stumbles forward, his weight uncentered after being held in place for so long. "Send over your footage first."

Ken's claws clack uncomfortably against the sides of his comm as he tugs it out of his pocket. His hands are tremoring horribly. Wifies is watching closely to make sure he does what's asked, and Ken isn't stupid enough to try and pull a fast one. If this pans out, he'll have more footage later. That doesn't stop bile from rising in his throat as he enters Wifies' user. He tries to keep his feet firmly on the ground as the raw footage is uploaded and then sent over—and then, at Wifies' pointed look, Ken deletes the footage off his own comm.

"Happy?"

"Very," Wifies says. He definitely sounds pleased. Of course the first emotion Ken can read off this guy is smug satisfaction. Ken only doesn't scowl because he consciously reminds himself not to. Wifies steps past him. "24 softlocked, anyway. He won't finish the room."

Ken scrambles to the edge of the platform and is startled to find that Wifies is right . In the time between Ken's initial fall and where they are now, the anvils that his Wifies had been using have since despawned. Ken must make a face, because the Wifies on the platform with him laughs and claps a hand onto his shoulder.

"What did I tell you? He's a moron. I turn my attention away for fifteen minutes and look what happens. He could never have solved this without me."

Ken grits his teeth. "That isn't fair. He only had a few minutes–"

"If you have a problem with the design philosophy, you can do it differently." Wifies cuts him off, "People like high stakes. The good news is he can stay in there as long as we want him to."

The arm on Ken's shoulder encircles his waist, instead. Ken doesn't even have time to get the heebie-jeebies about it before he's being lifted into the air.

Ken starts to protest. "You can't leave him–"

"We'll come back later."

The canine's tone is coming dangerously close to annoyance, so Ken shuts his mouth. Wifies is carrying him away from the escape room—a menagerie of old rooms pass under their feet, all ones Ken would recognize at a glance, but Ken keeps his eyes behind them for as long as possible, until the room they started with fades out of render distance and into the fog, and the Wifies in there is alone. Ken's anxiety has done nothing but spike and spike since he logged on to this damn server, but this makes him feel the worst. No amount of thinking I'll come back, I'll be back for you makes the feeling go away. Subsequently, Ken doesn't notice the looming factory until they're already at the door, and Wifies drops them both to the ground.

It looks comically evil, to the point where if Ken had found it on his own he would have laughed at it. The sounds of heavy machinery inside make his skin crawl. Wifies' ever-present touch against Ken's skin, now in the form of a palm against his lower back, urges him through the door.

"I have a lot to show you," Wifies murmurs, almost conspiratorial. "Trust me, you're going to be here for a long time."

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