#doppelganger
Text
Back Alley - Doppelgänger Francis Mosses x Female Reader
Word Count 5k
Rating Explicit
CW - minor blood/injury, fluff and smut
Also available on AO3
The end of your shift. The quiet part of the evening.
Nestled downtown in the oldest part of the city, the diner you’re employed at as a waitress caters to DDD members and civilians alike. The final patrons have already filed out the front entrance, a pair of glass front doors with shiny chrome handles. You begin the process of closing the establishment for the evening, starting with a final wipe down of all the surfaces in the dining area while the young man that washes dishes works his way through the last batch of soiled utensils and plates and cups. You count the money in the register and gather the receipts, placing everything on the owner’s desk in the tiny office in back of the restaurant.
The adolescent has finished the washing in the kitchen and finds you putting leftover food scraps onto a plate, a snack for the stray cats that dwell in the alley behind the diner. He rocks on his heels, the apron he’d been wearing already removed and now anxiously wrung between his hands. “Did you want me to wait, or…”
You smile softly. “No, that’s alright. I’m just going to set this out and bring out the trash and I’ll be locking up. Go on home. Be safe.”
Needing no further encouragement, the youth darts from the kitchen. You shake your head ruefully, gathering the ends of the plastic bag in the kitchen’s rubbish bin together and knotting them. Balancing trash in one hand and the plate in the other, you manage to open the heavy steel door at the rear of the diner that leads to the alley.
Normally there are several strays to greet you as soon as you open the door, accustomed as they are to this nightly routine.
Tonight it takes you several moments to locate one solitary form after you’ve lobbed the bag into the dumpster and closed the lid, retrieving the plate you’d set by the back door.
You spy one of your usual clients hovering near the stockade fence further down the narrow passageway, a raggedy looking gray tabby with a torn ear that’s normally the friendliest of the bunch.
“Hey there. What’s wrong, you’re not hungry?” You walk forward a couple of steps, crouching down and holding out your empty hand, making little affectionate sounds to lure the animal closer.
In the distance you hear voices shouting. Not uncommon in the city, but you’re still wary as you straighten, leaving the plate on the ground.
The cat, still hunched by the fence, issues a warning growl.
You turn and see a shape moving from the opposite end of the alley where it divides into the main road, the hair on your bare forearms rising, the skin goose pimpling.
You whirl around, already making for the open door at your back, that slice of light inside a beacon that’s frustratingly so close and yet so far.
You don’t quite make it.
A hand reaches the door before you do, slamming it shut. It becomes a wall at your back as you shrink against it, recoiling from whatever just closed it.
No, not whatever. The strays knew what it was. Now you know, too.
A doppelgänger.
This one dressed in the uniform of a milkman, though his outfit had seen better days. Spattered with blood, you cannot find a single patch of the white shirt that doesn’t bear some trace of scarlet droplets. Shouting again in the distance, though this time it sounds closer.
You open your mouth to yell for help and a hand instantly clamps down over it. The doppel is breathing heavily. It must be the DDD pursuing him. Without the light of the diner’s interior, you can’t see much of the creature’s replicated features in the night shrouded alley. You wonder why he hasn’t killed you yet, your heart hammering like mad.
“I’m not going to hurt you. If you help me, I’ll do something for you in return.”
He was trying to bargain? Bad idea. Doppelgängers were notorious liars. By definition of their very existence they had to be masters of deceit. He must have been desperate if he was making this offer. Definitely being chased by the disposal team officers, the likely source of the shouting you’ve been hearing, the details of the situation coming together in your mind.
You can’t imagine a single thing the invader could offer you that you’d desire.
“I’m going to remove my hand. We’re going to go inside. You’re not going to make a sound. Agreed? Nod if you understand me.”
Wide eyed, nostrils flaring, you move your head, signaling your acceptance of his terms. What choice did you have?
The barrier over your mouth lifts and you’re pushed aside, firmly but without malice, the heavy door wrenched open. You’re shoved inside and the door is quickly shut again.
“Is the front door locked? Lights off?”
You nod, swallowing past a panicked lump in your throat as you take a couple of steps back away from the intruder.
The male copycat sighs, shoulders visibly sagging with relief.
He’s still hiding.
Still wearing the visage of the human he’d duplicated, a tired looking brunette male probably in his early thirties with tousled chestnut hair, shadowed under eyes, a long nose with the slightest bump along the bridge—an old injury that had never healed quite right, perhaps—set above thin lips.
The arm that’s been tucked tightly against his side the entire time, never once in use to restrain you or open the door, you realize, now lifts, exposing a gash across his lower abdomen, rent right through the fabric and severing the flesh beneath.
You’d incorrectly assumed the blood had been from a struggle with the original milkman he’d replicated, not from the alien himself. You suck in a deep breath, wincing as your eyes linger on the injury. “What happened?”
“Got cut jumping the fence.”
“That’s going to need stitches,” you observe as he drags the shirt’s hem free of his belted pants, hurriedly thumbing the buttons open and shrugging out of the garment, thrusting it into the garbage bin you hurriedly point to. The undershirt is similarly stained, but this he leaves in place, merely lifting the edge to better expose the wound.
His eyes meet yours. “Can you do it?”
“I mean, I’m not a physician. All I have is the sewing kit I keep in my purse to mend tears in an emergency. You need to see a doctor, go to the hospital…” Your voice trails off. Of course he couldn’t. He’d be killed instantly.
“Get it.”
You hesitate. Were you really going to risk helping this foreigner?
“Please,” he adds through gritted teeth. Perspiration beads his forehead. You wonder if he hasn’t already been exposed to something that would prove infectious later on. Not really your concern, though. You just needed to survive until you could get away from him. Somehow.
“Alright.” You don’t spare any more time debating about what the right course of action is. You grab one of the clean dish rags from under the kitchen sink and your purse stashed in the bottom desk drawer in the office.
The doppelgänger’s eyes remained fixed on your every movement, watching as you soak the wash cloth in warm water and pull the sewing kit from your purse, the fingers threading the needle shaking. You drag one of the chairs from the dining room for him to sit on, kneeling on the linoleum beside his seated form.
You hesitate again. You really didn’t have the appropriate kind of materials for this. Should you have heated the needle to try to sterilize it first? Was there even time for that? Would it be easier just to attempt to cauterize the area? Somehow you don’t think the invader would be keen on the idea of getting burned, even if the intention was to aid and not harm. “I don’t know that this is going to work, but I’ll do my best. This is going to hurt,” you caution.
“Worse than being cut open?” He asks bitterly.
“No, I suppose not.” You begin washing around the cut, scrubbing at the dried blood, trying to clean the edges of the laceration. It’s still weeping blood but the flow has slowed, the body’s natural clotting process coming into effect. The milkman he’s replicated is on the leaner side, with little softness in the abdomen you’re cleansing. “Why can’t you just replicate the skin again? Make it intact?”
“It doesn’t work like that. It’s penetrated through the outer layer. You humans are so fragile. It doesn’t take much to tear through…” He lets that thought remain unfinished.
You shiver, thinking of how, were circumstances different, he would’ve torn you to shreds without a second thought, murdering you at best, devouring you at worst. You can’t help but wonder if the doppel will turn on you once you finished patching him up.
“Okay, I’m going to try to start sewing.” Your heart is still thudding rapidly. Your eyes narrow in concentration as you pierce the skin, hurriedly seeking the adjacent flesh to sling the thread between, then drawing it taut. You’re feeling a little nauseous and lightheaded. You tell yourself you’re not piecing a person back together. Urging yourself to pretend it was something else. Mending a torn shirt. A ripped stuffed animal. Anything but the gruesome sight before you.
At last the task is completed, the pale skin sutured together. You sit back on your heels, heaving a raspy sigh, your hands clasped tightly together in your lap, willing them to stop trembling.
“You’re skilled,” the doppelgänger murmurs, looking over your handiwork, probing the closed incision gingerly. It is a rather impressive job if you’re being honest, a neat line of even stitches despite your shaking hands.
“You’ll need to keep this clean so it doesn’t get infected. And you can’t move around too much. I don’t know how well that thread will hold.” You gently push his questing digits away, applying gauze and tape from the first aid kit in the office to cover the wound and he eases the ripped undershirt back down.
“Thank you.”
Your eyes meet his. You’ve never heard of an invader asking a human for help. Being grateful. You don’t know what to make of it.
“I won’t forget this.”
You rise, tossing the used wash cloth in the trash and returning your sewing kit to the depths of your handbag. You return the chair to the dining room once he’s slid from it, watching as you settle your purse strap on your shoulder, keys to the diner in hand. The replicant opens the back door a crack, peeking outside, head cocked slightly, listening. No shouting. The DDD had passed through the area. He glances back at you a final time before slipping through the gap.
You lock the door behind him, then sag against it, exhaling a shuddering breath. He’d let you live, as promised. A doppelgänger that kept his word.
What did it mean?
***
He’s in the alley again.
You tell yourself you weren’t looking for the milkman’s clone every night for the last three shifts, merely taking out the garbage and feeding the strays per usual.
Your stomach does a little somersault as he approaches. His skin color is better, no longer so ghostly pale. The milkman uniform he’s wearing looks clean and crisp and starched. Where had he gotten it? Was he keeping a low profile, pretending to be the human he’s dressed as? There certainly seemed to be some transfer of knowledge that occurred when the replicants adopted a human form, intelligence information that surpasses beyond what could be obtained through just casual observation. The doppels knew so much about humans, and humans still knew so little about the invaders, what should have been a home field advantage hampered by the persistence of these alien visitors.
“How are you?” You greet him cautiously.
“Healing well. You did a fine job.”
What should you say to that? You’re glad you helped the enemy? You shudder to think what would happen if anyone ever found that out.
The doppelgänger steps closer. “Are you going to invite me inside?”
As if he was a vampire, seeking permission to grant entrance. You can’t imagine what he wants from you now.
Still, you push the door open wider. He eases past you, his body lightly brushing yours.
“What do you have to eat?”
“Um…” As far as you knew, the invaders only ate human flesh. “What…what did you want? I haven’t cleared out the displays yet. There’s pie, donuts from the morning, though those are probably stale by now. I can make you a sandwich, or…”
He follows you into the dining room as you list the possible offerings, reaching for one of the chocolate iced pastries tucked under the nearest glass dome. He takes an experimental bite and his mouth turns down in disgust at the flavor.
“I warned you they’d be stale.”
“It’s not that. It’s the sweetness. Overwhelming. We’re primarily carnivores.”
“Is turkey okay? Or maybe ham? I don’t know what to offer you.”
He tips his head to one side, considering. “Cow?”
“Yes, we have ground beef.”
“That would be preferable.”
“You just want it…raw?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” There are a couple of defrosted packages in the fridge. You resolve to put some of your tip money towards the meal. You don’t like the idea of stealing from the restaurant.
It feels weird just handing him the styrofoam tray, but also silly to dump the mass of pink pulverized meat onto a plate. You refuse to watch him eat, studying one of the laminated menus resting on the counter intently, unfortunately catching a glimpse of him licking the traces of blood lingering at the bottom of the package when you dare to glance over at him.
“I’m aware this adds to the debt I owe you,” he says.
You discard the tray and fold your arms across your chest, trying to exude more confidence than you felt. “I’ll put it on your tab.”
A slight frown appears as the creature processes the phrase.
“It means adding it to the list of things you already owe that you intend to repay.”
“Ah. Yes, that.” He watches you finish cleaning up after his grim repast, wiping the counter down a final time before accompanying you to the front door and waiting as you lock the entrance from the outside, tugging on the chrome handles to make sure they’ve been secured properly. “Do you live nearby?”
“Yes,” you answer, suddenly wary.
“This is not a very safe part of town for humans,” he muses.
Is anywhere safe anymore?
“Is your living space guarded by the DDD?”
“Not internally. There’s just the street patrol.”
“I’ll accompany you as far as your destination, then.”
“You don’t have to.”
The doppelgänger insists, now walking beside you. It feels unwise to allow the invader to see where you live, but then again, had he done anything to harm you thus far? Surely there had been opportunity if that was his main goal. What was his main goal? What did he want, if not to consume, to take over control of the planet like his brethren?
“You’re not like the others,” you murmur your thoughts out loud, feeling the mimic’s eyes flick in your direction.
“Do you know many doppels?” He sounds bemused.
“No,” you reply, stepping over a broken bottle littering the pavement.
“Is every human the same?”
“Of course not.”
“So why should we be any different?”
“I guess you’re right,” you concede.
You’ve reach the end of the street you’re traveling on and take a right, leading the invader onward into another back alley. You’ve barely taken a few paces before the sound of heavy footsteps alerts you to someone else’s presence.
“Disposal team.” You hear the disgust and fear in your companion’s tone as he tenses, jerking to a halt. The sounds are getting louder as the guards draw closer. “Play along. They won’t be suspicious if they see a couple.”
Suddenly you’re pushed against the wall, so abruptly the air leaves your lungs, your next desperate intake of oxygen interrupted when the doppel’s mouth covers yours.
You feel you stomach do that little somersault motion again. His tongue finds the inside of your mouth. He tastes slightly metallic. The movements are inexperienced, clumsy. Imitating something he’s seen. The teeth that nip your bottom lip are sharp.
“Hey! You there! What’s going…” The DDD officer halts, the beam of the flashlight illuminating what appears as your lover pinning you against the wall, caught up in a moment of passion. You don’t even have to fake the look of embarrassment as your eyes shyly meet the guard’s, the doppel’s mouth sliding from yours.
“Sorry, sir. Just picked my girl up from work and I couldn’t wait.” He offers a sheepish grin that looks extremely convincing.
The DDD member’s partner draws even with his cohort, the gun in his hand lowering, looking over the pastel yellow dress you’re wearing.
“I know you. You work over at the diner.”
You nod frantically.
“You should get on home. It isn’t safe out here. Even with your man with you. Especially not down the side streets.”
“Sorry, that was my idea. My feet are killing me and I just wanted to get home faster.” You pause, reaching for your purse still slung over your shoulder. “Did you want to see our IDs?”
“Nah, that’s alright. Imagine a doppel making out with a human. Right?” He elbows his companion, grinning.
“Get home safe, now. No more dallying,” the older of the pair cautions before abandoning you, resuming patrol with the more inexperienced member who’s still wearing a smirk as he trails slightly behind, darting one more glance in your direction as if hoping to catch you in the act again.
The copycat heaves a sigh of relief when they’ve both finally departed, the booted steps receding in the distance. His eyes lock with yours, and you see his nostrils flare slightly, a slight frown wrinkling the bridge of his nose, then his eyelids lift, whatever mystery he’s been puzzling over solved.
“You liked that.”
“What?” It’s your turn to be confused.
“You liked what we just did.”
Oh. Your cheeks flush again. “No, I…I was just playing along, like you said. You caught me off guard.”
“You did a good job. Thinking on your feet. Admirable, really. How deep in debt I’m getting,” the doppel hums beside your cheek. He hasn’t shifted much since your discovery, one hand still braced on the wall at your back, his body leaning close to yours. “You smell good. Good enough to eat.”
You shiver and gasp. “You promised me you wouldn’t hurt me.”
“No, no. Not what I had in mind at all,” he hurriedly reassures you. The clone of the milkman plants a kiss on the side of your neck. Gentle. Not rushed, not under the guise of something to trick the guards. Repeating the process, getting accustomed to using the human body he’s replicated for this new task. He kisses your lips again, and you know you should be repulsed.
You’re not.
Your mouth parts for his, inviting him inside. He’s already growing more skilled, the tongue against yours slick, deft, curling and stroking, the fire he’d begun stoking in your core flaring anew.
You’re French kissing a doppelgänger, and you like it.
You feel a hand caressing down your body, pausing to drag the purse off your shoulder, then kneading one breast before sliding down to your hip, moving neatly around to grope the curve of one buttocks cheek. The fingers curl, dragging up the fabric of your dress.
“I can smell your arousal. Your body wants to mate.” It’s crass, vulgar, sheer filth the alien should be slapped for uttering, but there’s nothing derogatory in the way he mentions it, the words of observation that he spreads before your lips lilted with a kind of wonder, fascination, curiosity. He’s finally reached the hem of the skirt portion of your work uniform, shifting quickly to the waistband of the panties you’re wearing, dipping underneath and nudging at the fork of your body.
To be doing this, with a doppelgänger, in public…
Your legs are already shifting, your stance broadening slightly to grant him better access. A little grunt of satisfaction, and then his fingers glide through your slickened folds, searching for the source of that dampness.
You moan softly, disappointed when the fingers do not linger, instead brought up to the invader’s lips, his thumb rolling the slick of your sex over the pads of his index and middle fingers curiously before he thrusts them into his mouth, a fresh flood leaking from your canal as you watch his eyes slide closed, a sound of some rapturous enjoyment hummed around those digits.
He kneels down, the movement swift and smooth, your eyes darting nervously to the lit street so close and yet so far, the last of the street lamp glow’s reach ending just beyond the shadows you’re standing in. The doppel looks up at you and you bury a hand in the thick mane of chestnut hair, a tender gesture of permission, pleading. You don’t know if he’d stop even if you’d declined the offer, that ravenous look in his eyes intense as he impatiently shifts the hem of your dress again, dragging away the flimsy undergarment that clothes your sex, this last barrier discarded carelessly on the pavement nearby.
Your low heeled pumps scrape against the dirty gravel of the alley as you adjust your position, the alien’s face instantly at your pussy, nose digging into your mound, tongue laving the rosy sensitive flesh. He groans and you echo the sound, your legs already trembling as his tongue delves deeper, dragging fluid back, the inadvertent flick of the tip of the curled muscle against your bud making you gasp and moan, your head rocking back against the brick and mortar.
His attention focuses on that sensitive bundle of nerve endings, mouth clamping over it and sucking, slurping, nursing at it until you see spots in front your eyes. You know you’re being loud, your only saving grace being that the building at your back is a long abandoned shirt factory with no one to hear your lewd sounds of pleasure.
His fingers are at your entrance again, paired to penetrate into that opening. The milkman he’s imitating has long fingers that reach deep, curling and twisting inside, scooping out more of your arousal for him to lap at before he sups at your pussy, drinking straight from the source.
You bite your bottom lip until it bleeds when you climax, shuddering against that incessant mouth worshipping your cunt, your fingers knotting restlessly in his tresses. You cum like a freight train, hard and fast, an unstoppable force driving you right through into bliss.
He’s still lapping, enjoying the taste of you, this new creamier substance that emerges from deep within after your release. You can’t tolerate it any longer, now shoving gently at his shoulders, pleading you’re too sensitive, it’s too much, you feel as if you might faint if not for the strong building exterior supporting your spine.
The doppelgänger rises, face wet with your juices smeared across his mouth and chin and cheeks, a distinct shine visible even in this dim illumination. “Delicious,” he growls softly, dragging his fingers over his dampened features and then nursing them clean.
His gaze focuses on the smear of crimson on your lower lip and he licks at that spot, sucking the wedge into his mouth, tasting that little copper tinged leakage of your lifeforce. You whimper and keen, feeling his hand guide one of yours to his crotch, pressing it against the erection straining there.
You squeeze gently and he huffs in pleasure, dragging your hand up and down. Needing no further guidance, you begin struggling with the belt buckle and button closure and zipper keeping you from your goal, dragging his cock through the opening flap of his briefs, smearing precum over the tip and eliciting another deep growl, the mouth nuzzling your throat vibrating in pleasure.
“Want to fuck you,” he gasps, and you find yourself nodding, no longer caring about the exposed location or what you’re about to let invade your body. You want it, the brief satiety you’d just enjoyed already dissipating, leaving you hungry for more.
His hands loop around the back of your thighs, his body crouching slightly then lifting you up, your dress scraping along the bricks. He fucks up into you and your legs wrap around him, your wrists draped over his shoulders as you’re thrust into and back against the building.
The milkman’s copycat prick is large, long and thick, stretching you as he fills you when his hips snap forward. Your unprotected buttocks suffers abrasions each time you’re impaled but you couldn’t care less. The pain is lost amidst the pleasure you’re experiencing as he buries himself deeply, withdrawing just slightly before driving forward again. Your mouths seek one another’s but it’s difficult with all the jostling, a sloppy collision of wet lips and wetter tongue, trails of saliva linking your panting openings.
“Your stitches…the strain, you shouldn’t…you’re bleeding,” you gasp, the hand that snakes down finding his shirt sticky with blood.
“Don’t care…fix it later…”
Your breasts are tender from the repeated battering of his chest against yours. You’re being pummeled mercilessly now, the invader pushing so hard it’s as if he’s trying to merge completely with you. You almost think you can see, just for a moment, a shift in the facial features, a glimpse of the doppelgänger’s true form lurking beneath the false human surface, but then it’s gone and it’s just those soft tired eyes and that slack, generous mouth as his cock pounds into your cunt until your body finally surrenders to another release, your muscles clenching, sucking at his member. He chases his own climax, moaning against your mouth, pumping streams of hot seed inside of you.
You realize then you’re both sweating, both drenched in perspiration and saliva, blood from his reopened wound and cum that leaks out of you and coats the erection he withdraws from your body as he slowly lowers you back to the ground, your stockinged feet touching the dirty road, your shoes lying nearby where they’d tumbled during the rough intercourse with the alien creature.
The doppel retrieves your panties and you hastily shove them into the purse he hands you. There’s no way you’ll be putting those back on after being in the dirty alley, almost laughing aloud at the idea when you’ve just been soiled by something you should consider disgusting. The amusement fades as you watch him brush the sole of each nylon clad foot clean before assisting them back into your pumps, the gesture almost oddly tender and thoughtful.
The doppelgänger straightens, his fingers reflexively reaching for the bloodied area staining his shirt, then moving to refasten his pants. His eyes meet yours again, waiting to see what you’ll do next. Wondering if there is regret, perhaps. Or if this is the start of…something.
“I…I live two streets over. We’re nearly there.” As if you hadn’t been interrupted on your journey home. You don’t know what to say, just wanting to fill the sudden silence.
He nods and you begin walking in slow, measured steps. Your limbs are still tingling, the aftershocks of your most recent orgasm still firing through them.
You and your companion reach your destination. The building looms up between two shuttered shops. Five stories. No elevator. You resided on the top floor. A lot of stairs to tackle on a good night when you’d merely worked a shift at the diner. Now, after this…
“It’s a long trek. I’m on the fifth floor. Will you be okay walking that much? I don’t know where else to stitch you back up again. I need to wash it, I need a good light source, I…” You’re inviting him inside your apartment. The realization suddenly dawns on you.
“Yes, I’ll manage.” He pauses. “Thank you,” he says softly.
“For what?”
“Helping me avoid the DDD earlier. This. Letting me into your home.”
You nod, your hand resting on the rusted railing that borders a flight of cement steps leading inside the building. The nearby street lamp flickers, a bulb that was long overdue for a change, the filaments within struggling.
“Of course. People should help each other.” You ascend the stairs, holding open the door for him.
He nods gratefully. “I’m not human, though. I’m the enemy.”
“Are you?” Your voice sounds wary at this reminder and you pause at the top of the first landing.
“I won’t hurt you,” he promises, following you up the next flight of stairs.
“Until the debt is repaid?”
“You don’t trust me.” It’s a statement, not a query.
“I don’t know how I feel.” You’ve reached the third floor. Despite his bravado earlier, you see him wincing slightly, his breathing ragged as he keeps one hand pressed to the injury. You wait for him to recover but he waves his other hand, indicating you should continue your journey.
“Did you enjoy it?”
The words make you halt abruptly and he nearly collides with you. You hurry up to the next landing and clear your throat before you give voice to your admission. “Yes, I enjoyed it,” you say when he reaches your side.
“Will we do that again?”
“Now?”
His solemn features break out into a smile. Handsome. The milkman whose appearance he’d copied was attractive, especially like this. You like the curve of that mouth, the flash of his teeth. “No, not now. I’m hardly in any condition to…I meant later,” he adds for clarification. “Another time.”
“Oh. Yes.” A sudden thought occurs to you. “Will you be safe from the patrol? On the way back, to wherever…”
“I’ll manage. Don’t worry.” He steps closer to you. “Are you that anxious to be rid of me?”
“No, I only meant…” You shake your head, feeling flustered.
“Were you looking for me tonight? When you were behind the diner. Hoping I’d be there, maybe?”
“Why would I…I hardly know you.”
“You know me a little better now though, right?” He crowds you back against the wall of the stairwell. You’re thinking maybe injury or not, he still wants you. You can feel the desire radiating from his eyes, his lips hovering close to yours. “You’re really something special, aren’t you? Out of all the humans to run into, and I find the only one who’s willing to take a chance on me, risk…” His voice trails off before he kisses your mouth. It seems impossible there would be any passion left inside of you to respond but you find your lips melting against his, one hand curling around the nape of his neck, holding the doppelgänger close.
#francis mosses x reader#francis mosses x you#that’s not my neighbor#francis mosses#milkman#thats not my neighbor#the milkman#doppelganger#tnmn milkman#tnmn francis mosses#milkman x reader#milkman x you#divider @strangergraphics
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Milkman's Daughter
#thats not my neighbor#my art#digital art#anastacha mikaelys#tnmn anastacha#tnmn#doppelganger#anastacha doppelganger#drawing#fanart#thats not my neighbour#thats not my neighbor anastacha#artists on tumblr
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Another totally normal picture of Caroline
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Milkman says: "Mmm... Enough.😐"
#art#fanart#fan art#digital art#meme#memes#that's not my neighbor#francis mosses#my art🐀#tnmn milkman#milkman#scarlet milk#doppelganger#Hoon man#scarlet milkman
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Another type of milk.
PAIRING: Francis Mosses x Female!Reader ( Slight Doppelganger!Francis Mosses x Reader. )
Requested: Can I request something for Francis, the Milkman? Like the scenario is: Y'all be talking then, they do it under the desk while the reader is working?
MDNI +18, NSFW.
You scroll through your phone, time ticking with each passing second as you get even more bored. Your job as a doorman was nice however the hours needed to work were plenty enough of time for you to wish you had never taken up such a job in the first place.
You hear a tap on the window as you see Francis in front of you, holding a carton of milk in his hands, his movements were sluggish and his eye bags were darker than when you last saw him.
You ignored the concern building in you and tried to find your wallet to pay for the milk you ordered from Francis, keyword: tried. You frantically searched your pockets and the drawers but there was no sign of a leather wallet in all of the places you searched.
Francis stares at you with a blank expression, completely minding his own business as he didn't question the amount of time it took for you to find your wallet.
"Hey.. can I pay you up in a different way?"
Francis raises his eyebrows, skeptical about your request but nods his head; far too kept up with how much time this delivery was taking. He wasn't used to social interaction anyway, he just wanted to get out.
You motion for him to come into your office, opening the gate for him and closing it once he went through.
A few minutes later, Francis knocks on your door and you let him in, he's still holding onto the carton of milk which you help him put on your desk.
"Mmmm.. so what's this different method of payment are you talking about?.." Francis mutters, his voice husky with the tiredness he felt from his job, tone as curious as ever.
You walk up to him, putting your hand on his chest while smiling innocently.
Francis looked at you with a curious expression, gulping as he was nervous about what you were going to do with him.
Francis looked at your eyelashes, and your pretty eyes, trying to distract himself from the weird thoughts he was thinking; perhaps he was watching too much inappropriate stuff, he should limit himself on that.
"Do you live alone?" You asked, knowing well what his answer would be.
Francis tore his gaze away from you, now staring at your wall. "Yes.."
He hears a small laugh come from you, and his body feels tingly with extreme nervousness. Why were you laughing? Did you expect him to have a roommate or something?
"So you have no one to milk you at home then?" You whisper in Francis's ears, watching him tense up as he caved in to your voice and touch.
You saw the way his knees trembled to hold onto his body, cheeks turning redder than the scarlet milk he frequently delivers.
You put a hand on his cheek, making him look at you with a smile on your face. "Let me help you, that's my payment." You utter, watching his eyes widen as he came across a conflicted statement-- not knowing what to choose.
You really didn't have to wait long.
Francis stares up at you, hand on his mouth as he leans against the wall, ears flushing with blush as he attempted to conceal his noises from you, afraid of someone hearing.
You rubbed your shoe against his bulge, looking at him with a mischievous look on your face, wanting to make him cum from a dry orgasm before you fully fuck him.
"Ah~ Hnn~ Ngn~" Francis moans out, his sounds muffled by how hard he was biting on his hand, throwing his head back at how lewd your method to pleasure him was.
His eyes were teary and his cheeks were flushed, he looked as if he already got fucked by you even if you hadn't advanced that fast yet.
You grin, pressing on his erection with the heel of your shoe-- enjoying the way he stuttered, gripping onto your leg with his free hand.
A tap on the window stops you from admiring him longer, and Francis panics. He couldn't run out because it would be suspicious if the visitor were to see someone come from below your desk, he didn't want to spread rumours as well if someone recognized him.
So he just sat there, both hands covering his mouth.
Wait.. what were you doing?
Francis bites onto his hand, heart pulsing as he felt your shoe rub more against his dick, you were crazy! Why were you still continuing?!
You grinned, twirling your hair as you faced a doppelganger of one of the visitors, not even having to check the ID to know it was a doppelganger.
You had to admit, it sure mimicked the resident properly, but if it weren't for the real Francis already being below your desk, you would've let the doppelganger of Francis in, there were barely any differences as well.
"Oh? My appearance..? I don't quite follow.." The doppelganger muttered, trying to keep calm as he felt rage from how fast you figured out he was a doppelganger.
You were not only a pretty doorman but a smart one too, the doppelganger held back on transforming, wanting to see if he could still convince you that he was the real one.
You chuckle at the doppelganger's confused expression, adding a bit more pressure to your shoe as you pressed on Francis's erection, hearing a small moan come out of him.
The doppelganger's eyes widened, looking around as he was confused at where the noise came from.
What a shame, you'd so tease the real Francis using the doppelganger if only you weren't allowed to spread the fact that Doppelgangers existed.
"I'm sorry, but I don't quite think I can let you in."
You rang the DDD and let them handle the situation, completely forgetting about Francis beneath you, trembling at how much pressure he was receiving.
By the time you remembered about him, you were already finished with the doppelganger situation, seeing him all teary and red just from your shoe.
You laugh, lifting his face up as you stop rubbing your shoe against his dick, grinning at him with a new idea in mind.
"Let's start with the milking process now, shall we, Milkman? But first, why don't you eat me out first?"
You catch his flustered expression as he nodded, moving his hands all the way to your thighs as he got rid of your panties.
Francis moves closer to your pussy, licking on it as his eyes widened from the taste, it was much different than the milk he was used to.
You let out a breathy moan, spreading your legs wider as you felt Francis shove his tongue straight into you, eating you out as if he was a man that was starved for years.
His tongue flicks against your clit, and you let out a full moan, suddenly closing your thighs around Francis's head, he didn't seem to mind however.
"Shit... you sure know how to eat pussy.." You mumble, biting on your lip as you run your fingers through his hair, enjoying the sensation of his cold wet tongue.
Francis's hooked nose makes you moan as it pressed against your pussy because of how close he was.
You moan, throwing your head back when you feel Francis's tongue licking on your clit, lapping it up as if it was water.
Your grip on his hair tightens, clenching down on his tongue as you orgasmed.
Francis moans beneath you, the vibration running across your entire body making you shake and tremble.
You breathe out, your pussy pulsing while Francis explored your insides, eager to drink up all of your cum, not letting a single drop go to waste.
You pull Francis away from your dick, and your pussy twitches at the sight. His eyes are half-lidded, staring at you while his tongue and mouth were filled with your cum.
Francis smiles, and swallows your cum right in front of you, making you bite your lip from how aroused you were.
"We aren't done yet, Milkman." You grin.
But apparently the story is done! I hope you enjoyed the story, this is my second time writing smut :)
#milkman x reader#milkman#francis mosses#Francis#francis mosses x reader#x reader#female reader#reader#x you#you#smut#thats not my neighbor#doppelganger#doppelganger francis mosses
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"You're not my Husband..." // Doppel!Francis x Reader 🐄🩸
@cassanderasblog --> Thanks for the request <3
-!! CW: Dubcon (in a sense), – Brief mention of murder, – Very slight body horror
-!! Very brief size kink
Spouse!Reader x doppelgänger!Francis
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▷ —-------------------- (s-s-s-sma-smash)
“You’re not Francis.” The words are sharp, punctuated, your glare burning straight through the mimic of a man in your living room
“No, I’m not,” The creature grins- if you could even call it that–, mouth a waning black chasm, no teeth, no tongue, nothing. How this thing managed to bypass the doormen you had no clue,-- how could someone fuck up this bad?
“Francis’s” eyes darken, – literally. The whites turn into an inky black, eery small spheres of light peeking out where his pupils should be.
Oh dear.
The wired phone you keep on the kitchen counter goes off behind you. Glancing once more at your “husband” you slowly back track, hand inching to the phone.
He just watches as you hesitantly pick up the ringing phone, making a click when it’s pulled from its cover.
“Attention, this is the D.D.D, – we detected an unknown life force near your residency. Please, do not panic. Keep your door locked and do not approach anyone of suspicion. If you see anything weird, do not investigate. Dispatchers are coming to your location to liquidate the threat” – Well, it was a little late for that.
“... cancel dispatch” your lips form the words slowly. There’s silence on the other end,
“Excuse me?... you want dispatch–”
“Discharged. Threat neutralized.”
Even “Francis” is stunned, – staring at you, unblinking, – flabbergasted.
“‘Got it under control, thanks,” You hang up before they can answer, placing the phone back in its place.
“Francis” just stares.
-
“You’re a doppelgänger , right?”
“Perhaps.” His eyes narrow
“Alrighty then, prove it.”
Unzips.
—-------------
“Francis” stares, wide eyed, gaze fixed upon the water stains on your ceiling. Even with all the lights off, he can still see your snoozing frame tangled in the sheets beside him, (perks of being non-human).
Your chest rose and fell with each breath, the movement captivating whatever posed as your husband.
Your body looked serene, the faint light emitted from his glowing pupils illuminating your chest.
“Ahah-!” You were practically in hysterics, tears flowing down your rosy cheeks, nails raking into the headboard of your bed. “Francis” could only lie there, enamored by your blissful expression as unfamiliar sparks of pure pleasure coiled inside, heating everything up until it was practically molten.
“Mmph-!” you choke off your moans, slapping a hand to your mouth lest your neighbors hear you impaling yourself on your husband’s doppelgänger 's cock.
You swivel your hips, his eyes widening; no one’s ever ridden him like you are, – no one’s ridden him period. You were surprised the doppelgänger even had a dick, – let alone it being almost twice the size of the actual Francis’. You had stuffed yourself full of him, bouncing mercilessly. Your husband had neglected you horribly in the past,-- never coming home, always giving you the cold shoulder, even when you had gotten down and begged for him to look at you, just once –your thirst for intimate touch was at an all time high.
“Francis” grunted, surprised at how wonderful this new sensation was. The delicious heat in his stomach bubbled over, bottoming out through his cock. Your eyes widened at the warm sensation of him, eyes rolling to the back of your head. You had to bend down, biting deeply into his shoulder to stifle the screams lodged in your throat.
You inhaled deeply, desperately trying to catch your breath as “Francis” could only glance over, the slight pain in his shoulder from your teeth barely bothering him, (because, well, one, you were the only one who could breathe and two, he wasn’t human). Your head turns, sloppily kissing him on the cheek, to his absolute shock.
“Francis” brings his right arm to his left shoulder, fingers gingerly grazing the marks left by your teeth. It still tingled.
He looks over at your slumbering frame again, now tentatively reaching the same arm in your direction, hesitantly touching your peaceful face. You do not stir, so he continues downward, fingers carefully glazing over your nose, your mouth, your jaw, and finally stopping at your neck, your pulse vibrating through his hand. Humans were so interesting, he thought, – and you had just grabbed his interest by the throat with a viselike grip.
He gently tucks a stray piece of hair plastered to your sweat slicked forehead behind your ear, grinning in that creepily endearing way of his. How the original Francis lucked out, – he almost felt bad about killing and devouring his corpse, – almost. How could he have fumbled so badly, – you were an absolute treasure, and “Francis” was now determined to keep you all to himself.
Such a greedy little creature.
… You’re never going to be able to get rid of him after this.
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(requests for more Francis, -- doppelgänger or no, -- are open and very much appreciated !)
I love him a normal amount I swear 🙏🙏🙏
#francis mosses x reader#francis mosses#francis mosses x you#francis mosses thats not my neighbor#that's not my neighbor#milkman#milkman x reader#milkman that's not my neighbor#i love him#doppelganger#doppelganger francis mosses#thats not my neighbour milkman#milkman doppelganger#smut#tnmn milkman#tnmn smut
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Keeping You Warm (The Milkman x F!Reader)
Author's Note: It's been a long (LONG) time since I wrote smut, so please excuse anything, plus English is not my native language so I apologise for any mistakes. But I do hope you enjoy this!
Warnings: MINORS DNI 18+ Smut. However, it's quite light/soft, so to speak. The reader has a female genitalia.
Word Count: 1.957
“Double shift again, Francis?” I asked over the phone.
“I’m sorry, (Y/N).” I heard Francis’ tired voice say in almost a whisper.
“Is there really no other person who could take the shift? It’s the third time this week, Francis. You’re killing yourself.” I sighed as I rested my head on my hand.
“Not really; everyone has been quitting lately because of the rise in the number of the doppelgangers' sights.” I heard the sound of glass bottles clattering in the background.
“Just… Don’t push yourself too hard, okay? You’re already tired and worn out. I understand that there’s a job that needs to be done, but you’re human.”
“I know. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of myself. Don’t wait up for me, okay? Get your rest. You need it more than I do. Bye.”
“Bye.” I hung up the phone, lowered my head, and laid it on the table.
It has been nearly two weeks since I last saw Francis, which is foolish since we live in the same apartment. However, due to our jobs and taking shifts, our schedules haven't been exactly the same. It’s actually gotten worse because he’s been taking double shifts to cover the lack of people, and now he has to deliver the milk and stay an extra shift preparing all the packs for the next day, which means not only collecting the empty bottles but also refilling them and sorting them out in the boxes. We only see each other when the other one is asleep since I start my shifts early, and he only gets home quite late.
As I was lost in thought, someone knocked on the window. Steven was waving his papers to get into the building.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, proceeding with my work.
Eventually, my shift ended, and I went to my and Francis’ apartment. While setting down my things, I checked my schedule for the next day, and a big smile spread across my face. It was a day off. I decided to wait up for Francis, so for the next few hours, I occupied myself with getting dinner ready and tidying up the house. When I ran out of things to do, I sat in the living room watching one of my favorite shows.
It was past midnight when I heard the keys to the front door. Francis walked in looking as tired as ever, sighing as he locked the door, the tension leaving his shoulders at being home becoming visible.
“Welcome home, love,” I said, getting up from the couch.
“I told you not to wait up, (Y/N),” Francis whispered as he wrapped his arms around my waist, holding me tight.
“I’m not working tomorrow, so I thought I would wait for you,” I whispered back. I held his face in my hands, and he looked exhausted. “Do you want to go to bed? We could cuddle a little before sleep.”
“I would like that,” he smiled.
He followed me into the bedroom and started to get changed. I got in bed while waiting for him.
Soon, I felt his arms around my waist and his lips pressed against my neck. I turned off the lights and faced him. I put my palm on his cheek and caressed it with my thumb. I heard him sigh and move his head closer and I held it between my hands. His lips met mine in a soft and slow kiss.
“I missed you” Francis’s embrace tightened.
“I missed you too, my love” I smiled.
We kissed again, our lips moving slowly, just appreciating each other’s presence. His hand moved from my waist to my hip and down to my butt, giving it a light squeeze. I gasped slightly, and Francis took the opportunity to slide his tongue inside my mouth. What was just a lingering kiss turned into something more pressing. The warmth and softness of our lips, the wet touch of tongues, and the subtle taste of each other only added to my incoming arousal.
Unconsciously, I pushed my hips against his during the kiss, feeling his semi-hard dick. Francis moaned into the kiss. With his hand under my neck, he grabbed a fist full of my hair at the back of my head, squeezing tight and deepening the kiss. His other hand moved back to my waist, slipping under my shirt, caressing my skin, leaving goosebumps all over me.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, breaking the kiss and leaving both of us panting.
Francis rested his forehead on mine, and his hands continued rubbing the skin of my waist and neck.
“I thought you were tired,” I smiled.
“I am, but I want you,” he said hoarsely.
At the same time, his leg slipped between mine, pulling me closer by the waist. I could feel his need pressing against my intimate parts. I squeezed his leg between mine, rubbing my heat trying to ease my aching, but I knew he was exhausted, so I took the lead.
“What if I keep you warm?” I asked.
I spit a bit into my hand and reached for his pants, slipping under the waistband and into his underwear. I took his dick and started slowly moving, feeling him twitch. Francis groaned, and I felt his breath at the top of my head; he hugged me tighter and started to slowly, rocking his hips against my hand. I felt a chill down my spine; my core throbbed, and I felt it was getting wetter.
“Prep me up?” I mumbled.
Francis hummed, agreeing. His hand went from my waist to my heat, massaging my skin lightly along the way, and he pressed one finger to my entrance. I moaned quietly, continuing to pump him. He started to spread my juices around my lips and then pushed one finger inside. I moved my hips along with his finger, Francis kept his movements slow, and with each thrust, he touched a new spot inside me. Soon, he added a second finger, making me moan again and grind my hips in his hand.
“And I thought I was in need,” Francis chuckled.
“Francis…” I whimpered.
He pressed his thumb into my clit and began his scissors movements inside me, also curling his fingers to reach that sweet spot and stroke it, making me roll my eyes and breath heavily. I lifted my head, looking once again for his lips, and captured them in a hungrily open-mouth kiss, our tongues stroking each other rapidly and messy, with spit starting to drip.
I felt my walls pulsing around his fingers and that tickling sensation in my lower belly rushing me to grind faster. But I forced myself to stop. I pulled my hand away from his throbbing dick and grabbed his wrist, moving him away from me. I pushed Francis by the shoulder, laying his back on the mattress, and undressed myself. I lifted my leg and sat across Francis's lap, pulling his clothes down, freeing his dick, making him groan.
I kissed his tip and licked his entire length, from bottom to top, taking him to my mouth next. I took him until his tip reached the back of my throat and pumped the rest with my hand. I bobbed my head, sucking him and pressing my tongue against his flesh. Francis gave a husky groan and thrust his hips, hands tangling my hair.
When his dick was all wet, I raised myself and aligned my entrance with his tip. I slowly sink into him, feeling him twitch, relinquishing the feeling of his dick filling me up until he was all of him was inside me.
I set my hands on his stomach, getting used to the sensation of having him inside. Francis released a strangled breath, his hands resting on my thighs, caressing them with his thumbs.
When I was about to move, Francis took a strand of my hair and nestled it behind my ear, pulling me towards him by the back of my neck right after. He kissed me again, lips moving rapidly, only pulling away when we needed air.
The sudden movement had me squeezing his dick and he grinded his hips against me.
“Fucking tight,” Francis whispered.
I began rocking my hips, Francis matched my pace by grinding into me. Grunts and pants echoed in the bedroom; my hands were back on his stomach for balance, his hands pressed firmly on my waist to guide my movements and leave bruises. Each thrust felt heavenly, his dick sliding in and out, hitting the right spots every time, making me whimper and my legs shake.
The familiar tickling feeling in my lower belly came back, and my movements became erratic, faster, and sloppier, chasing that rush.
“I’m cuming,” I begged.
“Wait for me,” Francis urged.
He grabbed my leg and pushed my back onto the mattress. Settled between my legs, Francis resumed his movements, thrusting deep and fast. The change in position made me whine and squeeze him even tighter; it was bliss, the feeling of his weight on me, his grinding, and his dick rubbing every part inside me and hitting just the right spot.
“Francis, please” I begged again.
“Almost there” he grunted.
I tried my best to delay my incoming orgasm, focusing on Francis, on his short breaths, his muscles stiffening beneath my fingers, his raspy moans in my ear, just everything about him, taking my mind away from the pleasure he was giving me.
I tightened my legs around his body and my nails scratched his back, I was so close.
“Cum with me,” Francis pleaded.
I focused back on the sensation in my lower area. Francis sped up his pace, with chaotic and messy movements, as he began to shake. I felt the buildup of tension that made my back arch and my toes curl, like a clenching feeling. As soon as I thought that I couldn’t take it anymore, I sensed all that tension being released and pulsing throughout my body, an all-consuming release and euphoria. I moaned loudly against Francis's skin.
At the same time, Francis tensed up gave his final deep thrust and his dick throbbed inside me, releasing all of his seed, filling me up.
Francis kissed my lips tenderly, again, again and again, holding my face while supporting the weight of his body on one arm.
“I love you” he whispered between kisses.
“I love you too” I giggled, kissing him back.
He lay next to me, pulling me onto his chest. We stayed like that for a while, still panting and recovering.
“I’ll get you some water and a towel,” he said kissing my temple.
“No, it's okay I’ll get it” I pushed him down and got up. “I have to use the bathroom anyway. Do you need anything?”
“Just some water, please”.
I went to the bathroom, cleaned myself and then got a glass of water from the kitchen. When I came back to the bedroom, Francis’s breathing was deep and slow, suggesting that he was already asleep. I smiled and placed the water on his nightstand, I gave a small peck on his lips and laid down in bed, feeling my muscles relaxing after so much tension and pleasure.
The fact that our lives are regularly in danger because of the doppelgangers leaves everyone on edge, meaning that our time together safe at home is a blessing and a getaway from everything on the outside. Losing ourselves in each other is not only a reminder of being alive but also a reassurance that the other person we love so much is still by our side.
Thinking about all the things we do for each other, and while caressing softly Francis's face, I also fell asleep.
#milkman#milkman x reader#francis mosses x you#francis mosses#francis mosses x reader#francis#x reader#reader#x you#thats not my neighbor#doppelganger francis mosses#doppelganger#the milkman#francis x reader#smut
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Orin the Red wishes you a happy Halloween!
I felt Orin in all her glory only when playing as Dark Urge. Oh, how good she is in her rage and art!
~Reblogs are welcome~
#orin the red#bg3#bg3 orin#baldurs gate 3#baldur's gate 3#fanart#bg3 fanart#baldurs gate fanart#forgotten realms#dnd#dungeons and dragons#fantasy#ttrpg#doppelganger#astarion fanart#art#artist on tumblr#nodensart#dnd art#dnd character#orin bg3#halloween art#spooky#dark art#dark urge
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the red means i love you
Reader/Doppelgänger Francis (main focus on the doppelgänger aspect) (reader goes by she/her and is described with vaginal terms)
posted on my AO3
word count: 2.6k
title from The Red Means I Love You by Madds Buckley
Contains: monster fucking (doppelgänger fucking), headcanon design for non-disguised doppels, barbed dick, breeding, and blood drinking
You let the wrong one in, but maybe it's not as bad as it seems when you invite him back to your apartment.
“Mmm…” The voice sounds uncanny, too similar to Francis with the slightest hint of a purr that the tired milkman would never express, “I’m rather thankful that you let me in earlier, you know?” His uniform is clean and tidy, well put together in a way that Francis would never be able to achieve due to his early morning risings. His hair is just barely out of place. Things that no one would notice-- things that make her wish that she had called Francis’ apartment to see if he was home.
“W-Wha-!” The doorman stumbles back in fear, causing her to bump her back into the chest of the doppelgänger who all too readily wraps his arms around her waist. One of his hands trails down her rigid arm and grabs the hand of hers that is trembling its way towards the phone. Even if he didn’t intervene, the D.D.D. would not arrive in time to prevent any damages, he was in the safety room. His fingertips are inhuman, too sharp but not yet undisguised, as they intertwine with her own to prevent her from dialing the number she memorized so easily.
“Shhh, shhh… There’s no reason for you to be afraid.” He coos, brushing his nose against the exposed flesh of her neck. “No need to scream, no need to squirm, no need to put up a fight…” His voice is velvety but now lacks the tiredness the real Francis carries. It’s not surprising that he’s giving up his disguise piece by piece, she assumes that it must take some level of effort to be so near-perfectly disguised and she knows at this point she’s utterly fucked. “I could take you away from this annoying position forever if you want. No pesky D.D.D. agents, no more anxiety from our kind, no more living in fear. Sounds pretty nice, hm?” His free hand goes to hold her chin, his sharp thumb slightly digging into her jawline.
“But I gotta protect my neighbors. My job-- sitting here and looking at everyone and their documents, it might suck at times but it keeps everyone safe.” She says, her voice trembling. Her throat is bone dry from fear, her chest aches from the uneven breathing leaving her slightly open lips.
“Oh, my dear, that’s such a noble sentiment.” The doppelgänger sighs dramatically before shaking his head. He spins her around in his grasp, the hand that was holding hers goes to her waist. His fingers trace along her jawline, making sure to keep a gentle, but firm, grip on her so she cannot try to escape. There’s a bright grin on his face, his teeth too white to be human. “But how many times have they let you down? Surely they have failed you before. People are fickle creatures; they don’t appreciate what they have until it’s gone. I promise to protect you, sweetheart, just let me stay with you tonight, hm?”
Her mind races, so many thoughts of her own death and the death of her neighbors. “How do I know you won’t hurt me?” The answer is obvious-- if the doppel were going to hurt her, he already would have. He’s stronger than her, stronger than any human and she’s still in his grasp. If he wanted to maim her, he would have already. “You doppelgängers just want to kill and eat us.”
“Ah, you misunderstand me, darling! I could never harm a hair on your lovely head.” The doppelgänger earnestly insists. His thumb brushes gently across her cheek, trying to so lovingly convince her. “All I want is to hear more stories about your day and listen to those sweet little fears of yours… And yes, perhaps indulge myself in some delicious blood as well.” He’s whispering intimately, as if they’re a pair of lovers. The grip on her waist tightens slightly but remains mostly gentle, it’s almost comforting despite the sharp nails against her shirt. “C’mon… please trust me.”
“But I-” her voice dies out the longer she allows herself to fall into the illusion of mutual trust.
“It’s okay, my love,” he murmurs understandingly, “don’t overthink things, hm?” He kisses her temple tenderly, a perfect imitation of love between humans. His eyes flicker towards the phone, allowing even himself to dream of a different world where he could whisk her away and keep her all to himself. “Let’s just go for now, let’s go somewhere private where no one can bother us.”
She relents easily, tearing her gaze from his face and allowing it to travel down the white uniform before making its way back up to his face. “My apartment is on the first floor. We… We can go there together. We don’t have to worry about others seeing us, everyone else is in for the night.”
Francis’ grin grows even more, his canines growing sharper than any humans can be naturally, “That sounds perfect.” He sounds appreciative, leading him gently to the door to exit the safety room. The walk to the apartment is short. As the apartment door closes, the intensity changes slightly; he is watching her carefully while also taking the new space. “Nice place. So cozy…”
“Thank you….” She murmurs. “I figured it’s safer for you to be here than anywhere else in the complex.”
Francis’ doppelgänger hums thoughtfully before nodding in agreement. After the brief exchange, he takes the opportunity to explore the small apartment, touching things lightly as if trying to understand their purpose and history though touch alone. Every movement exudes confidence in his decision-making process, evaluating the potential of each object. “You’re so brave, you know. C’mere.”
She walks over to him hesitantly and stands there. The doppelgänger is taller than her. Despite it all, since he’s imitating one of her neighbors that she’s rather fond of, she feels herself relaxing. He wraps an arm around her waist casually, pulling her close while leaning down until their hands nearly touch. He inhales deeply, enjoying the warmth that a human being brings. He drawings circles on his back with his free hand. He continues to lean down slowly -- closer and closer to her neck. Her breath hitches as his nose finally meets her neck. Her hands meet his waist and tighten slightly, crinkling his shirt. Adrenaline is racing through her body, making her tremble slightly but she refuses to pull away. The way the doppelgänger rubes and nuzzles his nose into the crook of her neck is the sweetest thing she’s experienced recently.
The doppelgänger lets out a satisfied rumble, savoring the sensation of her trembling beneath his touch. If anyone saw them now, they’d assume it was two lovers locked in passion. His lips brush against the skin he finds lightly before he stops abruptly. “Promise me something -- promise that you won’t run away.”
“...” She considers his words carefully. Every primal instinct in her is begging her to run, to get away as fast as she can. But she hasn't and, to be honest to herself, she doesn’t want to. She’s rather content staying like this, being in his arms with his face buried in her neck. She know he could bite her, sink sharp teeth in her neck and finish her life in less than a second, but she finds herself trusting that he won’t. “ I promise.”
“Good girl.” He praises softly, finally giving into temptation and pressing his teeth gently against her neck. Not hard enough to yet draw blood, just merely teasing her. His arm tightens around her as the gravity of her promise fully settles between the pair. The danger she’s in never fully dissipates but mixes well with the affection he’s showing her. “You deserve a reward for trusting me.”
“Oh? Like what?” She asks, her grip on him loosening as her body adapts to the unfamiliar situation.
Francis’ doppelgänger chuckles, the vibrations tickling her neck. “Don’t fret, just something that will make us both happy.” With a groan, he allows his disguise to slip further and further, his teeth sharpening. They puncture her skin ever so slightly, blood trickles immediately out of the small wounds. With a satisfied hum, he pulls away and licks his lips, allowing blood to pool. “Just relax, enjoy this moment.” She struggles out a broken moan; it’s not necessarily painful but it reminds her of how weak and vulnerable she is in the moment, a feeling that is intoxicating. “Relax.” he murmurs against her skin soothingly. There was no aggression or hunger driving him, it was just to provide nutrients for him to continue his time with her. Slowly yet deliberately, he licks up the collected droplets while sucking lightly on the wound. He alternates between suckling and licking the wounds, moaning.
“Y’gonna leave a hickey on me.” She sighs out, her body relaxing even further.
“Only for me to look at later.” He promises, his breath hot on her dampened flesh. The rhythm slows down until it stops altogether and he pulls away. Slowly and carefully, he raises his gaze to meet hers. “Now tell me more about those annoying D.D.D. agents.”
“I don’t know much about them, to be honest. They don’t hang around after the cleaning procedure and they don’t talk to me aside from congratulating me on living another way.” She says, swiping a bit of her own blood from his lips with his thumb.
“You should know more than that.” He growls. “We could use your help some day.”
“We? You want me to help the doppelgängers?”
“Of course. Someone like you, someone so skilled at calling us out… You could be helpful in our cause.”
“I don’t believe that’s such a worthy cause…” She murmurs, resting her head against his chest. His heartbeat is inhuman, too slow to be human, but it’s relaxing. “Though…”
“Though? You would be safe -- you’d be part of our family. Perhaps one day I could introduce you to some of the ones I’m closest to.”
“Mm.” She weighs his words carefully. In a disturbing, unacceptable way, it’s almost sweet. “I suppose that, as long as I’m protected by you, I’d be honored to meet them. Does that make us mates?”
“Indeed.” Silence stretches between them for a moment. “In our world, we share souls upon consummation.” He stares into her eyes after the statement, gauging her reaction based on his customs.
“Ah, like marriages for humans then? Do you want to consummate our bond?”
The doppelgänger stiffens slightly at first before relaxing. “Yes. But we must proceed cautiously.”
“Why’s that, my love? Is your genitalia that different?” She asks, leaning up to nuzzle her nose against his for a moment before pulling away and going to stroke his cheek softly. The skin is rubbery and like ice against her fingers.
“Hm… No, not quite.” There’s a beat of uncomfortable silence, he allows her mind to wander with possibilities. “Our release is also quite different, I believe. Is that okay?”
She’s quiet for a moment, allowing herself time to fully comprehend the possibilities ahead of her. “Yes. I want to be your mate, so please… mate with me the way doppelgängers do.” Francis’ doppelgänger feels a surge of triumph. The transformation starts gradually as he allows himself to rip through his disguise. The clothes rip and tatter, falling to the ground around him as she lets him go, allowing him to fully transform. Glistening black scales peek through skin like moonlight reflecting off ocean waves, his fingers grow out to sharp daggers, his arms and legs elongate as his muscles tense. His teeth barely fit in his mouth, the sharp points poking slightly over his lips. His cock is impossibly thick and long, tiny barbs lining the sides as it oozes black pre-cum. He lifts her effortlessly, his hands on her ass as he carries her to her bedroom and places her gently on the bed.
“Lie back.” He commands quietly, watching every breath he takes with anticipation and hunger. She lays back, obediently as he hovers over her patiently. There’s no shame or hesitation in his gaze as his hand travels up her shirt to lift it over her head. She tugs off her pants, leaving her in her bra and panties. His gaze is full of pride. “You’re mine now, my soulmate.”
“You’re perfect.” She says softly, cupping his face and kissing his monstrous face lovingly. Her lips meet his rough lips and pointed teeth. She winces preemptively as his sharp claws make easy work of her panties, tugging on the fabric until it tears away and reveals her glistening sex. The thick, black sludge lubricates his cock, making it ease into her cunt slowly and easily despite its grand size. She feels the tiny barbs grow slightly, just enough to dig into her walls to prevent her from squirming away or resisting.
He hisses appreciatively at the compliment and the feeling of her heat enveloping her slowly. “You’re tight.” He grunts out raggedly, thrusting deep. The sensation matches beast-like intensity, every movement echoing throughout the small bedroom.
“Hah, you’re bigger than I expected. So fuckin’ thick.” She pants out, her cunt swallowing his cock with little resistance. “I was scared about the bars, but shit… your cock is so perfect for me.” The doppelgänger lets out an animalistic moan at her declaration, his thrusts becoming more aggressive and intense.
“That’s it! Take everything I got!” He exclaims hoarsely, nails digging into her hips. “Answer me, would you want children?” He gasps urgently. Despite the heaviness of the question he posed, he keeps pushing relentlessly -- seeking assured release.
“I-I-! Yes! I want to swell with your young.” She says lovingly, moaning.
He roars at his words, bowing low to catch her lips. The kiss is filled with dominance and ownership. “Perfect.” He growls into her mouth, shifting positions easily so she’s on top of him. “Ride me until we’re done.”
She straddles him easing, wincing as the shift in positioning digs his barbs deep into her cunt. “Fuck, baby…” She breathes out, her hands on his chest. Her hips raise up and down rapidly despite her legs trembling greatly.
“Let me see those pretty eyes looking into mine.” He orders hoarsely. He hisses as her cunt adjusts. The pain she felt was only temporary, but served its purpose well: reminding her whose body she was riding, a dangerous creature holding immense power over her. His own gaze burned with need and desperation, pleading silently for satisfaction.
She looks into his eyes obediently, so full of adoration for the monster. “I-I-...” Her breath hitches, she can’t finish her sentence. She’s too embarrassed to admit her love for him. Instead, she leans down to kiss him. Her soft lips meeting his rough, uneven ones.
“Say it. Tell me how much we mean to each other.” He demands huskily. His barbs grow slightly more, haling her movements for a single second. It’s a sign of his nearing climax that’s mirrored by her frantic movements once she adjusts to the growth.
“I love you, fuck, I love you!” She moans loudly. Her cunt begins to quiver and massage his cock. “Cum in me, cum in me, cum in me.” She whimpers as his barbs dig in even more as her tight walls convulse around him. Suddenly she can feel a torrent of his dark, murky cum release deep into her cunt. His cock swells greatly, making her gasp and cum around him. Her slick dribbles down his cock and coats him. Her body slowly relaxes as his barbs retract but he remains swollen. She lays limp against him, breathing heavily.
He roars hoarsely, pumping several times harder with his thickened cock. He remains still, breathing heavily with his arms tight around her as he lays on his side, holding her tight to his chest. It’ll take several minutes for his cock to decrease in size, but it’s unlikely that either of the two will be awake. “Our bond is sealed.” He rasps against her ear, nuzzling gently against sensitive skin.
#francis mosses x reader#francis mosses#tnmn milkman#tnmn#doppelganger#doppelganger francis mosses#banner by cafekitsune
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﹑%# ☆﹒MILK THE MILK MAN﹗💭 ⠀
꒰ francis. m x masc! reader ꒱
TW nsfw, cockwarming, doppelganger francis, sub! milkman x top! masc reader
YOUR EYES STARED at the figure before you, his eyes tired with eye bags surrounding them, shaky breaths leaving from his humpy nose. he dusted his uniform, as he apologised for not giving you his ID card.
he placed it in front of you, the only thing stoping his hand from touching yours being the glass. you took the card almost immediately— checking the info. how foolish, his name was spelled wrong! instead of francis, he wrote francies.
you bit your lips, a small smile dancing across your face. “you’ve gotta do better than this to trick me,” you smiled at his face, keeping the ID down. he was probably the last person you were gonna have to deal with— and then your shift ends, so why not at least have a little fun?
his face changes. eyes turn purple as he grunts with his sharp canines, “you think you’re funny?” he asks aggressively, “i’ve always been funny,” a chuckle leaves your lips. what could possibly happen from you teasing a doppelganger?
well, it turns out a lot can happen..
things somehow ended up with his legs wrapped around your seated figure, his face buried in your neck with your cock deep warming his walls, you plant kisses on his bare shoulder, whimpers leaving his mouth every time you slightly moved around. this probably isn’t the best idea— but this was the only thing you could do to not get killed by him.
his hands gripped your hair, pulling it in pain and pleasure. “quit movin’!” he growls, clawing his fingers in, earning a low hiss from you. yet you didn’t stop. you continued to move around the chair, your cock going deeper as his moans got louder.
“i’ll..” he starts, holding back a lewd groan, “i’ll kill you.” he huffs, voice dripping with desperation, “you’re threats aren’t gonna work on me,” your eyes scan his body that clung onto you, your fingers slowly making its way down his spine, sending shivers down them.
the doppelganger felt humiliated, but for some reason, he felt a surge of pleasure run through his veins. he had always been so high and almighty yet hearing these words, he felt blush creeping up his tanned cheeks.
he felt your cold hands snake around his waist, holding its sides as you slowly lifted his body up, “w-what are you doin’, fool?” he grunts, hands still clutched around your neck, his eyes shot open, rolling back after some time as you quickly placed him back on your cock, he lets out a groan, tightening his grip around you.
“u..you— gah!” he moans, head falling back, “its hurts!” he sniffles, tears bubbling around his eyes as his legs trembled in pain and pleasure. he broke so early, you definitely wasn’t expecting this today.
that thick ahh glass ain’t stoppin me from this hunk of a man‼️‼️💯💯🗣️🗣️🤣🤣🙏
#male reader#that’s not my neighbor#francis mosses#francis#mosses#that’s not my neighbor x male reader#Seme male reader#dom reader#top reader#francis x reader#milkman#milkman x reader#thats not my neighbour milkman#smut#doppelganger#sub character#reader#smr
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Let Me In ~ Doppelgänger Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Female Reader
Chapter 7
Word Count ~ 3.9k
Rating ~ Explicit
CW ~ minor mention of blood and gore, sexual content
Also available on AO3
taglist @luthien-elvenia-asher @fishfetus @gaudesstuff @nekee-lilac02 @msdevil333 @rrnrjn @maskedpacific
Fanart used with permission @kaworinx on Instagram and TikTok
You are walking the yard surrounding your home in early August.
Francis Mosses’ doppelgänger is beside you, his fingers laced with yours as the pair of you leisurely stroll. You love mornings like this. Lazy weekends when you shut the rest of the world out. There is just this, this safe haven you’ve created, away from the city where the invaders seek to gain entry and conquer, where the humans continue to try to see past the lies standing right before them, the deceivers and pretenders like the one whose hand you’re clutching now so tenderly. Except he isn’t like the others; nothing like any of them. He is yours, and you are his. There is nothing else like this phenomenon, what you have with him.
The blackberry bushes lining the picket fence are heavy with fruit, the plump, deep black specimens dull skinned, ripe and ready to be plucked.
“So many of them,” the copycat murmurs, halting beside you as your pace slows and pauses, contemplating the sight of those heavily laden shrubs.
You nod. “My grandparents used to make jam from them. I can remember spreading it on pancakes on Sunday mornings.”
“Do you still recall how to make the jam?”
“Yes. It’s not difficult. Just a bit time consuming. A lot of prep work.”
“We have the whole day. Want to try?”
“Really? You want to?”
“It sounds pleasant.” He tugs you gently towards him. “Everything with you is.” His lips meet yours, warm as the summer sun heating you through the button front dress you’re wearing.
“We need something to gather them in.”
“Will this do?” He reaches for the fabric of your dress about halfway down the skirt portion, lifting the loose material until it forms a kind of scooped makeshift basket.
“That’s what my grandmother did with her apron. Yes, this will do.” You reach for the handfuls he’s gathered, keeping the improvised bowl in place. “Only pick the ones that are black. No purple or red, they’re not ripe. Nothing shiny. Only the dull ones. They should come off fairly easily. If you have to pull too much, they’re not ready.”
The imposter milkman follows your directions and the dip in the fabric you’re clutching is soon full. It is a little awkward walking up the porch steps, balancing the unfamiliar weight at your front. There are stains on his fingers, on your dress as you dump the gathered berries into the colander he grabs from the cupboard for you, followed by a mixing bowl, anything he can find to relieve you of your burden. Overzealous in the picking, perhaps, but you don’t mind. The excessive berries would just have gone to waste otherwise, more than even your wildlife neighbors could indulge in.
“You should get used to having extra weight around your middle,” he murmurs against your ear. Still persisting in the notion of having a baby with you. The previous month had ended with your menses. You’ve no idea if it’s even possible to create a new life with the doppelgänger. You’re still conflicted about it. Afraid for its life, for yours and Francis’. But you can imagine the face. As a toddler. Convinced somehow it would be a boy. Identical in every way to his father. A father as devoted to him as he is to you. The child clinging to your side, standing in those same fields near the house in summer, looking at the world around him with those dark eyes that are unshadowed, not yet tired like his parent’s. Soft brown hair. Human, because you won’t let yourself imagine anything else; refuse to concede that it would be part doppel as well. “I can’t wait,” he says, his arms enfolding you from behind, your hands settling on his, the quartet all resting over your abdomen.
You smile, leaning your weight against his chest for a few moments before reaching for the faucet. It was time to rinse the harvest, removing the stray leaf or stem here and there. You fill a pan with water to boil to sterilize the lids of the mason jars. There are a set of them under the sink. The glass portion needs to be similarly treated. It will be hot in the kitchen with the stovetop working so hard. You lean and lift the window behind the sink a little higher, hoping for any sign of a breeze.
“Go pick out a record to play.” A new tradition. You let your lover choose the music, discovering what he likes best. Perhaps some of Francis’ favorites. Some for the invader alone. You cherish both selections equally.
The man and the doppel themselves; that is something your conscience has struggled with for many weeks now. You think you will always love Francis. But you love the new creature inhabiting his form, too. More and more with each passing day.
The music begins and you smile to yourself. Al Bowlly. Something from two decades ago, but a timeless classic. One of the records your mother had left behind when she’d moved to the city, inherited from your grandparents. You were long overdue for a visit to your mother and father. You’d received a letter not that long ago. Still safe. It was a worry that gnawed at you. One of the reasons you’d joined the DDD in the first place. Wanting to protect your family, the people you love.
The very thought of you and I forget to do
The little ordinary things that everyone ought to do
You spread a tea towel on the counter. The jars will air dry there after you’ve finished preparing them.
I'm living in a kind of daydream and I'm happy as a king
And foolish though it may seem, why to me that's everything
“How am I meant to not want to dance with you when this is playing?” Your partner’s lips graze the nape of your neck softly, his hands on your waist.
The mere idea of you, the longing here for you
You'll never know how slow the moments go till I'm near to you
You smile again. A gesture that comes so easily when the imposter is around you. “After. You wanted to make jam, remember?”
“I want to make a lot of things,” he murmurs beside your cheek, his nose nudging aside a stray piece of hair that’s come free from where you’d pinned it up, mouth now on the patch of skin he’s cleared.
“Francis!” You giggle, playfully squirming in his arms. You aren’t really trying to get away. “I need your help. Use those muscles of yours and pulverize the berries. The potato masher is in the second drawer there.”
I see your face in every flower, your eyes in stars above
It's just the thought of you, the very thought of you, my love
He rolls up his sleeves, beginning to crush the fruit while you gather the measuring cups and sugar.
“I know it’s equal parts berries and sugar. Three minutes to boil? And then another three after the sugar’s been added. Oh, I need the whisk, too. And one of the larger spoons to stir. Yes, that one, thank you.” Francis’ copy hands you the culinary tools you’re searching for, retrieved from the same drawer the masher had been in.
Speaking of which, he’s done a great job with the blackberries, making short work of them. For a brief second your mind teases an imagining of something far less pleasant being ground down like that, pulped human flesh, the gore that is left behind when a doppel feasts on a human. Your grip on the spoon tightens until it’s white knuckled and you force yourself to relax. You’re with him, the one that you love, that adores you. Your home. With the beautiful crooned words of longing issuing from the turntable in the background. Those horrors do not exist here. “Those look perfect. I think that’s maybe around six cups’ worth. But we’ll measure.”
Your estimate of the mixture volume proves fairly accurate. You begin stirring the berries in the stainless steel cook pot, watching the seeded dark red mixture begin to bubble, keeping an eye on the clock on the wall. The doppel is at the sink, already washing the used bowls and tools.
It’s time to add the sugar. You stir it in, once again timing your task, finally deeming the developing jam ready to be removed from the heat of the burner, switching the knob for the pilot light off as you move the pot to an unused burner.
You can feel the perspiration beading on your forehead as you whisk the heated fledgling fruit spread. Nearly there. Your strokes with the thin wired tool were releasing the natural pectin in the berries now. After that it was just a matter of filling and sealing the jars.
“What’s next? What can I do to help?” The doppelgänger asks, resting a hand on your lower back, where the heat lingers, making the dress cling damply to your skin.
“I think this is actually just about ready to start pouring.”
He turns over the mason jars that had been resting upside down over the tea towel to air dry, lining them up on the counter. You transfer small batches of the jam to a batter bowl, making it easier to fill each jar without spilling. A lot of dishes being used for this. Funny how you didn’t remember that part from childhood. Just the fun of making it with your grandmother.
The replicant screws the last of the lids on. The jam looks so inviting. You can’t wait to spread it on some toast with some butter after it’s had a day or two to set. Maybe just one day. You were really craving it now.
“It’s hot,” the imposter says, dragging a hand across his forehead. “I’m ready to head back into the tub after that.”
You like the idea of that yourself. “You should.”
“Coming with me?”
“I was hoping for an invitation.”
He kisses you and you taste the salt of his perspiration. “You look a little flushed. We definitely need to go cool down. And then heat up again.”
“Francis, you’re impossible. Go get the water running. I’ll finish cleaning up here.”
“It’ll be faster with both of us working together.”
You won’t argue with that, allowing him to assist you. Munching on some leftover blackberries as you work side by side. The last of the dishes done. Everything put away. Shutting off the record player on your way to the stairs. His hands work on the buttons of your dress after you’ve turned on the faucet to fill the tub. You loosen his belt. Shove the hem of his undershirt upward after he’s removed the outer layer. He reaches between his shoulders and pulls it free. You kiss the dip between his pectoral muscles lightly covered with dark hair. Suddenly finding yourself hungry for him.
“Should we wait on the bath for after?” he suggests.
“Yes. Definitely.” You switch the faucet off hurriedly, turning your attention back to him. He’s already entering the bedroom. The temperature in this room is hotter than it had been in the kitchen. No fresh breeze coming in through either of the windows. Just that stifling humidity. It needed to rain.
Undergarments removed. He kisses your bare shoulder, humming the song that had been playing the previous evening, when he’d met you at your front door, the start of your weekend together.
Blue Moon, you saw me standing alone
Without a dream in my heart
Without a love of my own
You sit down on the edge of the bed. A hand rests on your thigh as he kneels down. Fingers stained from some of the berry juice, garnet and magenta smudges along cuticles and nail beds. Your hand sinks into the hair you’d trimmed recently, finding it’s already growing long again. You bend to kiss his mouth and he tastes like the fruit, like summer itself, warm and fresh and sweet.
He leans to kiss the breasts that will one day bear the nutrition to feed your child, if it was ever meant to be, sucking gently, each nipple responding to that sensation, rising and hardening, the melody of that love song still emerging all the while.
Blue Moon, you knew just what I was there for
You heard me saying a prayer for
Someone I really could care for
Then he is between your thighs, every kiss still languid, drowsy, a leisurely summer afternoon gifted in each touch of his lips on your skin. Caressing your legs, the limbs that part to receive him. Gentle kisses on those nether lips, still humming, sending little vibrations into your body.
And then there suddenly appeared before me
The only one my arms will ever hold
I heard somebody whisper, "Please adore me"
And when I looked, the moon had turned to gold
His tongue strokes your clit and you lean back slightly, hands sinking into the mattress, arms braced to either side. His hands curl around your thighs and he sups at your sex, the pace still unhurried, easing you along into pleasure. Delving into your entrance, rolling the taste of you on his tongue before sweeping through the petals back to your bud, massaging it from side to side, up and down, pausing every now and again to plant a kiss on your mound or thigh, suckling the bundle of nerve endings and then dipping back into your canal in short, gentle little thrusts, the tune nearing its end, reaching the final verses, but yours have just started, that thrumming he sends through you, deep inside, an echoing response in your core.
Blue Moon, now I'm no longer alone
Without a dream in my heart
Without a love of my own
You let your weight rest on one hand so you can touch his hair again, meet the gaze of those dark eyes watching you, those depthless pools of desire you get lost in, drowning, a tide that washes you away into your release against his mouth.
You're sweating profusely now, damp inside and out as you scoot yourself back to the center of the bed, making room for your companion to join you.
There is always the little surprised sounding moan when he first enters you, as if he’s forgotten that feeling, rediscovering it each time his cock pierces your pussy. His hips roll against you in slow, lazy thrusts. He combs your damp hair back from your face, hair that has completely fallen loose, natural. He kisses your forehead and cheeks and lips, your jaw and throat and ear lobes.
“I love you,” he breathes against your neck. His voice sounds raw, full of emotion.
“I love you, Francis.” You grind up against his damp body.
His face hovers above yours. “Marry me.” You gasp as he grabs one of your thighs and rocks forward, pushing deep inside of you. “Marry me, be my wife. Stay with me always.”
Your heart pounds. To be joined with him like that. The mark on your arm only a faint pink line now. The traces of the bite completely disappeared. He wanted to put a ring on your finger. Everyone would know, then. There would be no concealing it.
“Be the mother of my children. Be mine forever.”
“Francis…”
“Please.”
“Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”
“I’ll do anything to make you happy.”
“I am happy. Happier than I’ve ever been. I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you,” you add softly.
A heavy sigh as his body moves against yours, his face tucked into the crook of your neck. “My love, my only, mine.” His pelvis knocks against yours faster now. Your knees tightly embrace his ribs. Every part of skin your lips touch taste of salt. His hair is darker, saturated with sweat, the tendrils clinging damply to his forehead. A drop slides from his nose and pools between your lips. The arms bracing his weight near your face are trembling. So close to the edge of bliss.
“Love,” he gasps.
“Yes,” you answer, and he spills into you, filling your womb with his seed.
***
You sit inside the bathtub between the doppel’s legs, resting back against his chest.
“Close your eyes,” he instructs, and you obey, hearing something being lifted from that basin of water. The wash cloth, you realize, feeling the cool liquid dripping onto you hair, sliding down over your heated face. Repeating until your hair is thoroughly drenched in the bath water, his fingers slicking back those wet tresses, smoothing over your eyes, your cheeks, curling beneath your chin and lifting your face so that he can kiss you. Your eyes open and you see him smiling. “Better?”
“Much.”
“Good.” A rumble of thunder in the distance. Finally, the rain was coming. “Will we lose the power again, do you think?”
“Maybe. Wouldn’t be so terrible, though, would it? Just being here in the dark together.”
“Not at all. I have fond memories of doing that very thing.” He kisses you again and your stroke the damp cloth over his forearms. “I am going to get you a ring, you know. Propose properly.”
“I know.” You lift his left hand and kiss it. “We should tell my parents. Visit.”
“You want me to meet them?”
“Why not? They’ll be your in laws. The grandparents of your children.”
“Hmmm,” he hums. “We will need someone to watch the little ones. When it’s time to make more…”
“How many are you planning on?”
“I don’t know. There’s no specific number. I just want it. Badly.”
“I know you do. I do, too.”
“You’re still scared.”
“Yes.”
“I won’t let anyone harm you. You, or the children. However many there are.”
“I know you’ll be a good father. A good husband.”
His arms tighten around you. “You are my perfect everything.”
***
You do not lose the power that evening.
There is light for your repast at the kitchen table. Still too soon to indulge in the fruits of your earlier labors—pun intended—and neither of you want to heat up the house again using the stove, so you have a simple meal of bread, cheese, grapes, and iced tea, listening to the storm outside, this one much calmer than the last, starting to write a letter back to your parents, beginning with the exciting news of your engagement.
“Do you think your parents will like me?”
You pop a few grapes into your mouth. “Yes. My mom is very similar in personality to me. My dad maybe a little gruffer, but he’ll soften with time. Especially when he sees how well you treat me. He’d probably like it if you asked his permission first. Just as a courtesy. A formality.”
Francis’ copy slices another piece of cheddar free from the block, taking a bite and chewing thoughtfully. “What are you going to tell them about us, exactly?”
“Just that we met while I was working. You’re a resident in the building. The truth, you know.”
“But that’s not the whole story.”
You set your pen down. “I can’t tell them what you are. You know that.”
“Of course not. I’m just…wondering what to say. Or what not to say. How to behave.”
You lift the writing utensil again but don’t use it, merely holding it between your fingers. “Just be you.”
He looks over the top of his glass as you resume writing, neat cursive script filling the page. “Don’t forget to mention how handsome I am.”
“Hush, you.” You smirk, tossing one of the crumpled rough drafts at him and he easily catches it, returning your smile.
“And that I’m a good dancer.”
“You are a great dancer,” you concede, pausing again to tear off another piece of bread.
“We didn’t get to dance earlier.”
“We sort of did.”
His eyebrows lift. “I’ve corrupted you. That’s the sort of innuendo I’d deliver.”
“Speaking of which. No talking about wanting kids when we visit with my parents, at least not yet. They’re against premarital sex. Society doesn’t favor unwed women and it certainly doesn’t favor women who are unwed and pregnant. It’s because of the war. The need to repopulate, our purpose to create more soldiers.”
“We’re engaged, though.”
“Yes. But still not married.”
“I don’t want our children fighting in a war,” he says solemnly.
“Neither do I.” You pause, hesitating midway through writing again. “We are at war already. They’ll be born into it, just by the very nature of who they are. What they are.” You sigh, setting down the pen. The letter could wait for now. You don’t like the dark look on the features of the replicant sitting across from you.
“Come on. I owe you a dance.” You rise, reaching for the doppel’s hands and he allows himself to be tugged to his feet. “Go choose a record for us, my love.”
You clear the table while he rummages through the sleeved recordings. You leave the letter where it is. You’ll finish it in the morning, drop it off on your way to work Monday. At least there was one more day of this relaxed comfort, before you had to go back to the reality of the DDD.
You join your fiancé in the living room, positioning yourself with your dance partner, smiling as you recognize the song that starts to play.
Heaven, I'm in heaven
And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak
And I seem to find the happiness I seek
When we're out together, dancing cheek to cheek
“Fred Astaire, singing to Ginger Rogers. Another classic. This song was from the musical Top Hat. A big hit on the music charts.”
The doppel is silent, his hand warm against your waist, the other clasping your hand as you step and sway in a small circle.
Heaven, I'm in heaven
And the cares that hung around me through the week
Seem to vanish like a gambler's lucky streak
When we're out together, dancing cheek to cheek
“My mom loves that movie. You’ll curry some favor if you mention it. We’ll have to watch it together. The movie house downtown plays classics on Sunday nights. I’m babbling, aren’t I?” Two more verses of the song have already passed by.
“It’s alright. I don’t mind. We should go. I’ll take you.”
“A real date.”
“Yes, a real date.”
You grin, nuzzling his jaw. “I look forward to it.”
Dance with me. I want my arms about you
The charms about you
Will carry me through to
“I like making you happy.” He draws back to look at your features. “I want your parents to like me. I know it’s important to you. It’s important to me, too.”
“They’ll love you,” you say softly. “How could they possibly not?”
“Because…”
“No.” You release his shoulder, resting a finger against his lips. “You’re mine, and I’m yours, and that’s all that matters. I love you. You, inside of this man.” Your hand cups his cheek. “I’ve been calling you Francis all along. I don’t even know your name.”
“It’s…not something you could ever pronounce. The differences in language…”
“I’ll do my best to learn.”
“Sweetheart. Call me Francis. That’s who I am now. Your Francis. Yours.” He kisses you, and you become lost in the feel of it, in the sound of the needle of the record player tapping restlessly now that the song has finished, in the lullaby of the soft patter of the rain outside.
#francis mosses#francis mosses x reader#francis mosses x you#milkman#milkman x reader#milkman x you#thats not my neighbor#doppelganger#the milkman
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That's not my neighbor but the neighbors are actually doppelganger traps created by the DDD
#or its just steven who is a robot that would be cool too#thats not my neighbor#tnmn fanart#tnmn#drawing#artists on tumblr#digital art#my art#fanart#steven rudboys#comic page#AU#alternate universe#i like robot stuff#i know its in the 1950's but robots are cool#robot#doppelganger#thats not my neighbour
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Francis Mosses "The Milkman", from 'That's Not My Neighbor'.
My type fr 🙏 🥛
#francis mosses#the milkman#milkman#thats not my neighbor#tnmn#that's not my neighbor#doppelganger#horror#blood#digital art#art#video games#drawing#commissions open#comms#commission#tw blood#monster
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Potato... 😔
#art#fanart#fan art#digital art#my art🐀#that's not my neighbor#doppelganger#francis mosses#milkman#Hoon man
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Francis Mosses - Milkman (WIP)
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🩸 Scarlet...Milk? 🥛(pt.2)
[This was heavily requested 😭 but i love y'all and have this ❤]
(Words: 1.3k)
"I'm watching you....."
Was written in the note, you stumbled back as you look ahead of the building that leads to the metal doors. The bloody doppelganger staring at you before disappearing in the blink of an eye.
You're being stalked...
Out of fear you rushed to your apartment after closing the main gates of the building.
'would that mean that doppelganger will be aggressive?..'
You think as you paced around in front of your apartment, it was the second floor apartment near Nacha's room. You sat down on your doorstep frustrated and nervous, if you messed up he will kill Francis...not only Francis, mostly anyone in the building-
"Y/n?" A soft and gentle tone asked as you turn your head to see Nacha's peeking out of her apartment room. "Miss Nacha- did i disturb you?"
"No, not at all..i just heard you groaning and pacing around, you seem down in the slumps"
"Ah..well, is it okay?-"
"I dont mind, come in we can talk about it"
꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚
"Thats why...." You said softly explaining the whole incident that had happened as you averted your eyes to someplace , while Nacha takes in all the information. "I don't really get this doppelganger thing, but you seem like a lovely and kind person Y/n.."
"We appreciate you and your doorman duties, remember to take care of yourself whenever" Nacha said as she smiled at You, your venting didn't include your growing admiration for the milkman because well...
From what you know Nacha is Francis ex-wife and its hella awkward to tell her you had a crush on her ex-husband.
"Your muffins are good-" You said breaking away from the topic as you took a bite from the blueberry muffin she offered earlier when you entered her house.
"Why thank you, i baked them with Anastacha" Nacha said happily as she went to the fridge. "would you like some milk? I bought this, funny looking thing-" Nacha said as she pulled out a red bottle of...'Scarlet milk'
You choked on your muffin and soon recovered, you immediately rushed to Nacha and grabbed the bottle.
"Dont"
"D-dont?" Nacha asked confused as you took the bottle and examine it. "its a bottle of blood, where do you get this-"
"It was left by the main gates-"
"Nacha...I'm not crazy, do not..receive the scarlet milk next time" Nacha eyes were wide as she nodded to your statement. "Y/n perhaps you should get an eye shut for tonight? Y-you seem shaken-"
"I'm..." You inhaled as you let go of her shoulders. "Maybe i should" you said sorry as you made your way out of Nacha's apartment room.
"Sweet dreams, Y/n" Nacha said as you closed the door gently.
You stared at the bottle of blood on your hands as your eyebrows furrowed at it. "I'm not delusional..." you said to yourself as you threw away the Scarlet milk into the trash bin.
You went into your apartment for some sleep.
꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚
You didn't manage to sleep at all, you keep hearing voices at night telling you to let them in.
'Y/n..'
Go away..
'Y/n!'
"GO AWAY!" you screamed as you stood up from your bed, it was 5:30 am in the morning.
"Y/n?" A familiar voice asked outside of your apartment door. "Francis?" You asked softly as you stood up from your bed.
You opened your door to see the Milkman all in his glory and uniform. "You alright? You screamed and i heard it from outside" he said as he stared at you with his tired eyes.
"Y-yeah..yeah I'm alright"
"You look..frightened" He stated as he noticed it from your appearance. "I'm fine Francis"
"Just a nightmare.."
"You hear them too?" Your eyes went wide as you stared at him. "What?"
"...mm..nevermind, maybe you should get ready..Ill head to work now, the milk dont deliver themselves" he muttered as he went ahead to the elevator.
"S-see you..." You were filled with mixed emotions, what does he mean 'you hear them too?' .
Is that why he's sleep deprived? At least you're not alone...
꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚
You started another day of your shift as you opened the metal covers. "Dont let this be weirder than usual" you muttered to yourself as you turn to the gates to see the yellowish eyes.
You dropped your keys and rubbed your eyes , wondering if you're seeing it right.
The eyes were gone...
"There's nothing..nothing at all-" you said to yourself to reassure, and went to your office.
...
The day went weirder, doppelgangers are trying to get in more frequently than usual. It was stressing, doppelgangers get angrier each time they're caught and you feared for your life and the apartments residents life.
"I'm okay.."
'I'm okay' you said to yourself as you keep going, you feel like breaking down. One wrong decision all blame will be pointed at you, and you alone..
"Mmm...Hello" Francis said tired as usual entering the hall in front of your office.
"Francis-" you said as he showed you his papers. "You alright Y/n?"
"J-just...overwhelmed" you answered as you checked his information.
"Mm...take a rest after this"
"I-i should..." You said softly as you opened the metal door for him to get in.
"Mm...Hello"
What...
Your eyes went wide as you stared at the second Francis. "You're a doppelganger-"
"What...?"
"Stop playing with me!" You said frustrated and angry. "Y/n you need to calm down...i just got off from my delivery shift"
Oh no..
Oh noo..
"Francis?!" You cursed under your breath and let him in your office. "Whats happening-" the milkman asked confused and exhausted from work.
"Stay in here- dont leave" you said as you grab your walkie talkie. "Press the emergency button and call D.D.D. when i page you through this" you explained as you hand him the spare device.
"Okay.."
"Please...be safe" you said as you closed the metal covers and door on your way out of the office, you went in the apartments and hit the emergency button to immediately alert the residents to close their rooms.
"You're no fun at all..." Said the doppelganger by the end of the hallway holding the tray of Scarlet milk.
"And you're a threat" you said as you pulled out your gun that was given to you by the D.D.D. services. He rushed to you as he tackled you down on the ground, bottles of Scarlet milk shattered on the way he dropped it near you staining both of your uniform and his.
"I told you ill get back at you" he said hungrily as his tongue licked your face. You kicked his stomach and crawled to the direction where you dropped it, but he stepped on your hand and laughed at you.
"No one would remember you" he started as he presses his foot on your hand making you scream in pain. "They'll see you as a crazy security that let in a threat"
"Oh yeah?" You managed to blurt out. "That doesn't matter, i bite" you said as you bit into his ankle Making him step back and let out a frustrated groan.
"FRANCIS-" you page into your walkie talkie. "CALL D.D.D. NOW--"
You grabbed the gun but the doppelganger kicked you to the nearest wall. "You protect their lives but who will protect you?"
He walked to you with one of the Scarlet milk. "No one.." He grabbed your face as he smiled, his eyes were empty as he forced the bloody bottle into your mouth.
You pulled the trigger of your gun thats pointed on his shoulder and shot him.
He screeched in pain as his face start to distort into a monster form of creature that you fear to see. His form rapidly changing as he charged back at you only for you to shoot him twice on his head.
He fall down on the floor, his blood and yours everywhere on the hallway of the 1st floor.
Your eyes were heavy and your head hurts, soon enough you passed out...
#francis mosses#thats not my neighbor#that's not my neighbor#the milkman#tnmn#themilkman#milkman#doppelganger#x reader
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