#flippant girl

[garglyswoof]

🦇 klaroline + per my last email

“Oh my god did they even READ??? What part of ‘Rooms are booked at the Aman Venice’ is difficult to comprehend?” Caroline yelled at her screen, leaning over the keyboard as she began exaggeratedly typing a reply. She was already irritated by Kol singing loudly in Italian somewhere downstairs - some opera that he claimed he had starred in in the 16th century. Honestly, at this point she was sick of this city and its thin veneer of charm holding back the rot.

“Per my last email, signora” She bit out, throwing up her hands. “Gahh!!” A muffled laugh behind her spun her in her chair, Klaus on the leather chaise smiling way too patronizingly at her for her own liking. “What?”

“Does that work for you?” At her confused expression, he continued. “Being passive aggressive? What do you think that will accomplish?”

“It will make her realize she’s stupid and she should apologize for being unable to comprehend basic sentences?”

“You believe that? Or will it just irritate her and worse yet, she’ll ignore it and learn nothing?”

Caroline stared at him. There was a logic to his words and she was having none of it. “Excuse me, but I’ve arranged the entire vampire consortium because your diplomacy skills range from death threats to stuffing people in boxes when they piss you off, so forgive me if I don’t take your advice on my emails being passive aggressive.” The last part came out in a hiss that she’d not be proud of tomorrow but for now it was effective. She watched Klaus’ face grow mulish, obstinate, and wondered if he’d pick a fight. Her eyes flashed because frankly? Bring it. She was surprised when he stood up, posture stiff with hurt, and walked out of the room, trailing a sentence in his wake.

“I’ll just get out of your hair then, shall I? Since I’m so clearly a nuisance.”

Caroline sighed as he left, his footsteps receding down the stairs. Kol’s performance cut off mid-word in a choked gurgle, Klaus’ voice a low tremor of rage as a door slammed so hard she could feel the displacement of air in the room. She hadn’t meant to snap at him, but honestly was she wrong?

She had little time to think about it, as Kol quickly transitioned from his operatic reprise to crunching obscenely loudly on an apple while staring into her office, and Caroline rubbed her temples. Vampires didn’t get headaches - unless they were witch induced, of course - but that didn’t prevent muscle memory kicking in from exasperation.

“What, Kol?” She bit out, waiting for the inevitable punch line.

“Just letting you know I’m headed back to the States.”

Caroline lifted her head, eyes bright with surprise. “Wait what? We’re in Venice for the consortium and you’re just jetting? I thought you were at least having fun annoying the hell out of Klaus?”

“Well that’s just it, darling. It’s been fun feeding into the chaos, but I’d much rather start it. He’s too easy a mark when you’ve upset him.” Crunch. He leaned up against the wall, and that casual pose belied a head full of mischief, she knew well. What was his deal this time?

“What do you mean?”

Kol pushed off the wall, tossing the apple core, and Caroline watched it curve in a perfect arc into the bin. 

“Klaus is less fun with you around.”

Her brows knitted. “Excuse me? I'll have you know, Klaus is way more fun with me around.”

“Yeah you really don’t get it, do you?” Kol’s expression flickered, and for a moment the jester was gone, replaced with something almost serious, there and gone in a flash. “Everything he does. Even when he’s mad and stomping about the streets of Venice, you’re there. In his head,” He clarified, his hand waving about dismissively but doing nothing to lessen the gravity of his words. “All of it. Everything he’s thinking. It’s for you. So I can feed off that, use it, make fun of it endlessly, but after a while it gets old. Too -” He paused then, searching for the words as Caroline’s heart flipped. 

He shrugged then, whatever he was going to say was lost in a decision made. “So I figured since it’s almost time for my semi-annual Jeremy torture I’d head back ‘cross the pond.”

Taken aback by the abrupt subject change, Caroline could do nothing but sputter. “Gilbert?”

“Of course. He killed me and all, feels wrong to just let that lie.”

Caroline spun the chair around, the email forgotten. “We may not be friends anymore but I’m not sure I can support torturing Jeremy.”

“Oh don’t worry, I don’t kill him. Hunter’s curse and all, been there done that, watched Nik get the T-shirt. No thanks. I just…mess around with him. Move things around in his apartment, seduce his girlfriend, give him explosive diarrhea at work. Enough small things to drive him absolutely bat shit crazy, which is usually when I leave. The paranoia is a gift that keeps on giving.”

Caroline was struggling not to laugh, knew that Kol saw it and that it was not only what he was looking for but needed, at least for now. She wondered at what he had almost said, something in her heart called out to it, and knew she would look at Kol differently now, behind the mummer’s mask. 

He saw it in her face and closed off his own, began a refrain of the operetta as he spun out the door in full pointe, vampire’s grace a counterpoint to the calculated silliness. Caroline stared after him, thoughtful, his words sifting in her brain. Downstairs the main door opened and closed with the exaggerated creak of faulty jambs in this ever-sinking city. She turned back to the computer, the afternoon dimmed enough by clouds for the monitor’s glow to light the room. The cursor lay waiting. 

She erased it all, wrote a quick note re-explaining the details. Clicked send, angrily still, one part hanging on to the feeling, one part over it, a whole entire rest of herself thinking about Klaus. 

A few hours later she heard the door open, smelled the faint scent of blood. She hoped it was a least a tourist that had paid the blood price, this city was dying on its own without vampiric help. There was a moment of guilt, sharp and bright, as she knew whomever died was because of her. It's all for you - she heard Klaus say, Kol say, their voices blending together in words that spanned decades, and she got up and headed downstairs as her throat closed over her own words.

He was facing the fireplace, a glass of grappa that she just couldn't get the taste for in his hand, and he stood with the alert grace of his dual predators, waiting.

"Hey," she said softly, and his face turned in surprise. Her heart ached with his expression, guarded but searching.

"You were right." Three words to watch the light dawn across a face, his brow clearing, confusion to suspicion to delight as he saw the truth in her eyes.

Caroline held a hand up. "About the email. Not about threatening people. Just so we're clear."

"So Signora Rossini is not receiving an angry 'per my last email?'"

"Nope. Oh and," Caroline slid her arms around Klaus's neck, pulled him in close. "Kol's left for the states, so I guess we have this old building all to ourselves this evening."

The smile built slow and cut a dimple deep into his cheek, a hand circling to rest on the small of her back, the other sliding across a hip, her breath catching at the feel of it and the scent of blood that lingered on his lips. "Oh do we love, tell me, whatever shall we do with this extra time?"

She answered him with a kiss, the house quiet now, water lapping at its foundations, the sound of oars sluicing through the water mingling with the languages of a half-dozen countries. She kissed him and she thought of all she had ever wanted in this vampire life and before, and her lips curved in a satisfied grin.

-----

From my halloween extravaganza - send me a prompt or tell me something fun!

[longagoitwastuesday]

Both Nobara and the blonde witch (Momo?) make good points about the role of women in this Jujutsu society. Momo points out that power is not enough for them, that that which is good enough for men isn't for women, that they are held to higher standards, and for them scars aren't badges of honour as they are for men, but make them undesirable and damaged goods.

And then there's Nobara, pointing out those are sexist standards one doesn't have to adhere to, that it's on them for playing by the rules and having those exigences in mind. That she likes clothes and looking pretty, but for herself, she doesn't expect it from others or respect more someone who does as well if they don't want to, like she likes Maki but dislikes Mai. And she too is right! It's true that adhering to those exigences perpetuates the standards! But what she says doesn't negate what Momo says, which is the fact that, yeah, okay, it sucks, but that's how it is and not playing by the rules just makes everything harder. And harder still for someone like Mai (or Maki) to whom perfection isn't just the goal, but the very starting point being people from one of the main clans. So she can understand and defend Mai's position and approach to the problem, as Nobara understands and defends Maki's.

This all gains layers of complexity and juiciness considering Momo and Mai are Utahime's students and Todo's classmates. I am sure the manga won't go there, but wow is it intriguing how Utahime's situation may have influenced their views. What a pity the manga won't go there

[ephemeral-winter]

my grandmother just sent an email to the whole family recommending that we watch the sheryl sandberg documentary about october 7. and like even if i were willing to ruin my day by watching a documentary about october 7. why would i watch sheryl sandberg's version of events

[effemimaniac]

I don't want to be known like this

[sochilll]

Gone Girl book better than movie send tweet

[lizasweetling]

Hm. Yup. Officially distrusting That.

like. if she were really this bad at closing her mouth, wouldn't implying she knows Rakethorn's secrets make him more likely to chase her off?

and giving this is really not proof, as Krosp and them just demonstrated, that Rakethorn has a reason to pursue Agatha is freely discernable information.

and maybe this is Krosp's nose for intrigue (literal)? but without having seen him clock that Zola was a threat when she was doing her Damsel performance, I'm not sure how far I trust his chemical perception.

(and the likely explanation is that this is a joke, but I would like to register that this is the sort of gag that when examined too close is indistinguishable from a plot hole. We acknowledge and move on)

[zlatokryletz]

Recent pose practice sketches entirely too flippant with watercolor and ink💖

[computerram]

man ive just nawt been having a good time with art recently ill be real i think im so cooked for uni next month if i cant get a grip soon

[not-so-superheroine]

i don't get why people say the women's restroom isn't a women's space.

have you never experienced sisterhood in a women's bathroom?

at a club, generally, we accompany each other to the bathroom. we tend to not go alone. and we talk in there when we go together. talk to other people in there. give compliments.

in school (grade and college), we did each other's hair in the bathrooms. shared makeup (i know gross. not me personally) and shared perfume. we socialized in the restroom. changed clothes, adjusted headscarves.

ever share menstrual products with the person in the stall next door? or ask them for toilet paper if you notice it's out in your stall too late.

i know and fully agree that gender should not be policed in restrooms. and i know that women aren't the only people who prefer the women's restroom. like transmascs who may feel unsafe going into the men's restroom alone for one reason or another. i went to a women's college and had friends who would use the men's restrooms at school, but wouldn't when we traveled somewhere unfamiliar, for example.

and nonbinary individuals need to relieve themselves too and often a gendered restroom is the only option.

trans women are also often discriminated against and fear mongered about regarding women's restrooms.

it's not a "safe space" for many marginalized groups of people. it can be a violent one. i very much get that.

and i do support gender neutral restrooms and prioritize them over gendered ones.

but to say it its never a "women's space" seems kinda wild bc, in my life, that is simply not the case. it does serve as an intimate semi-social space for women in several circumstances.

i get the point of the argument. it's just not my experience. and probably not a lot of women's experience. so i am uncertain if it's an effective one.

[blujayonthewing]

IN MY FEELINGS. ABOUT AUBREE.

[narutomaki]

4 days and 23 hours since my last cigarette before i quit cold turkey and i am like. man. maybe smokings not that bad for you. ill be fine im sure. it totally doesnt affect me poorly.

[ellecdc]

Hi!! I’ve been reading your poly!marauders x femreader and was wondering if you could possibly write about the reader having a vision while being with only the marauders, and how they would react and help reader without Barty or Reggie being there to help her? Maybe the vision can be another cute moment with the boys and reader not wanting to tell them what she saw and trying to walk away but they stop her and eventually get it out of her? Also,I love how you write the characters and portray their relationships :) Thank you so much!!!

This ended up a bit angstier than you had requested? But I think our girlie-pop needs to work through some of her shit before we’re really leaning into the cutesy stuff so I hope this works for now! It’s not like I’ve already got the next part planned or anything…….. 👀😅

poly!marauders x seer!reader where they witness her first Sight alone

CW: fem!reader, angst? w/ a happy ending, hurt/comfort, reader still stubborn as all hell, boys still relentless as ever - but we’re getting somewhere folks!!

There was no sense in feeling agitated with the Marauders; you noticed a simmering resentment bubbling up within you whenever your mind began to stray towards them, but it could hardly be considered their fault.

Just one of the many consequences of the ability of Sight; gradual feelings forming over ideas and thoughts and imagines that aren’t real, haven’t happened, and may never happen. There was an undeniable soft appreciation - dammit, maybe even love - for the three boys growing in your heart, but it hurt.

It hurt because it was an outcome of experiences that they haven’t had, that they haven’t shared with you; it was simply feelings for versions of these boys that don’t even exist yet.

But it was becoming difficult to separate your Sights of them from them; it was becoming harder and harder to remind yourself that the love you were feeling wasn’t real, at least not yet.

Yet.

That was the worst part - yet - seeing as none of these supposedly sweet moments taking place between you and the boys have ever really taken place, save that one of your impromptu Hogsmead date.

And whatever agitation you felt only tripled when you heard their voices in the library and your face broke out in an involuntary smile.

Stupid lovesick girl.

“There’s our princess!” Sirius cheered loudly as he spotted you, earning him more than a few severe glares from surrounding tables as he sloppily (and loudly) plopped himself onto the bench at the table across from you.

“Do try not to get us kicked out when we’ve only just found her, yeah?” Remus muttered quietly, though he seemed no less pleased with his boyfriend despite his scolding.

Sirius made a dismissive scoffing sound as Remus took a seat beside him and James across from him (and, decidedly less importantly, beside you). “I’d like to see them try; my family paid for this sodding library.”

“Charming, Black.” You muttered as you kept your face pointed towards the notes in front of you.

From your periphery you could see Sirius flash you a salacious grin; all sharp canines and cocky attitude. “Thanks dolly; I think so too.”

“You’re exhausting.” You let out with a sigh.

“I have been told I’m ex-”

“-Exhilarating, we know.” James finished for Sirius, seemingly already knowing exactly what the boy was going to quip.

“See? Everyone agrees.”

“Feel free to ignore him.” Remus interjected then, looking at you softly.

So softly. In ways you’ve Seen him do many times but have never yet experienced.

It made you ache with want; wanting so badly for it to be real and then hating yourself for wanting it at all.

“You okay, dove?” He asked then; apparently seeing the conflict on your face.

And wasn’t that just the icing on the pastie.

“No, actually, I’m not.” You huffed as you began to pack up your things.

Sirius said your name then; all teasing and flippantness gone from his tone as he sat up straight. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“No.” You grumble; standing now but closing your eyes and pointing your face to the ceiling in frustration.

‘It’s not you, it’s me’ sits on the very tip of your tongue, threatening to spill out but you just can’t bring yourself to release the words.

You hate this feeling; the lack of control in the direction that your life was seemingly going, moving through the motions unwillingly as fate pulled on the strings of your soul like some poorly mistreated puppet.

“Don’t go.” James all but whispered then; his hand seemingly aching to reach for yours but clearly resisting the urge.

That only made you feel worse.

You let out a breath and started to lower yourself back to your seat on the bench when you recognized the familiar feeling of your consciousness being pulled elsewhere; the dreaded sensation of being submerged under cold water followed by the neurons firing in your brain as they were gently plucked from their existing pathways and ushered towards a new reality.

No, you begged hopelessly, not here, not now.

Your vision blurred through the tears that threatened to spill from them; placing your elbows on the table in front of you so roughly that it left your fingertips buzzing, you covered your face behind your hands and fought to steady your breathing.

“You’re okay, dove.” Remus whispered from across the table; his leg under the table creeping over to apply pressure to the inside of your calf. You were thankful for the grounding it provided.

“Can you look at me, sweetness?” Sirius asked quietly as James tried pulling gently at your arm.

You shook your head quickly and tried to say no, but all that came out of your mouth was a choked sob.

“Okay, that’s okay.” Sirius relented evenly as James moved his hand from your forearm to rest gently between your shoulder blades where it began making soothing swipes against your jumper. “You’re alright, yeah?”

All he got was another sob in response.

You felt James shift in his seat; legs straddled over the wooden bench so he was now facing you.

“C’mere angel.” He cooed at you, gently yet firmly encouraging you into his chest by a hand on your shoulder.

You melted into him.

“You’re alright; you’re just fine.” He said again.

You flinched slightly when you felt a gentle hand grip your ankle.

“Sorry, dovey.” Remus murmured softly, rubbing his thumb over your Achilles tendon apologetically before pressing it to a soft spot on the outside of your ankle.

“Come back to us, pretty girl.”

Your knees buckled beneath you as you nearly fell into your seat; two strong arms quickly caught you by your elbows before James carefully lowered you to the bench.

“Easy, doll.” Sirius coached calmly albeit worriedly from across the table as you heaved in a much needed breath. “Easy.”

You felt your sinuses swell as you took a few more breaths, realising belatedly that you had three boys that you were rather quite taken with staring at you in one of your most vulnerable states.

They already had so much of you - much more than they may ever know - you didn’t want to give them this, too.

Your vision blurred through the tears that threatened to spill from them; placing your elbows on the table in front of you so roughly that it left your fingertips buzzing, you covered your face behind your hands and fought to steady your breathing.

“You’re okay, dove.” Remus whispered from across from you; his leg under the table creeping over to apply pressure to the inside of your calf. You were thankful for the grounding effect it provided.

“Can you look at me, sweetness?” Sirius asked quietly as James tried pulling gently at your arm.

You shook your head quickly and tried to say no, but all that came out of your mouth was a choked sob.

“Okay, that’s okay.” Sirius relented evenly as James moved his hand from your forearm to rest gently between your shoulder blades where it began making soothing swipes against your jumper. “You’re alright, yeah?”

All he got was another sob in response.

You felt James shift in his seat; legs straddled over the wooden bench so he was now facing you.

“C’mere angel.” He cooed at you, gently yet firmly encouraging you into his chest by a hand on your shoulder.

You melted into him.

“You’re alright; you’re just fine.” He said again.

You flinched slightly when you felt a gentle hand grip your ankle.

“Sorry, dovey.” Remus murmured softly, rubbing his thumb over your Achilles tendon apologetically before pressing it to a soft spot on the outside of your ankle.

“Come back to us, pretty girl.” Sirius whispered.

“I’m sorry.” You admitted; voice pinched emotionally as you continued hiding behind your hands.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, lovely girl.” Remus assured you as James pressed a kiss to your hair. “Nothing at all.”

“I hate-” You paused around a pathetic hiccup as you finally deigned to pull your hands away from your now likely puffy and tear stained face. “I- I just-”

“You don’t have to explain.” Sirius offered at your next hiccup. “Just keep breathing.”

You realised only as Remus resumed moving his thumb back-and-forth against your ankle bone that he had paused to track your pulse much like he’d seen Regulus do that first day in the Great Hall.

A bitter taste filled your mouth when you thought of that Sight too; how much of your supposed ‘relationship’ with these boys would be of you breaking down in front of them?

“I hate seeing things that aren’t real; that haven’t happened, with versions of people who don’t even exist yet.”

James let out a sympathetic breath at your words as Remus’ brows furrowed forlornly.

“Do those versions not exist yet or have you just not given them a chance to?” Sirius asked you slowly.

You made a pained sound as you straightened from resting against James’ chest; you pretended not to notice the look of loss that crossed his face and ignored the same feeling aching within your chest.

“People can surprise you, y’know?” James offered then; hope colouring the vowels of his words as he spoke.

“I’m sure that, whoever they are,” Sirius started pointedly. “Would love the chance to be whoever you needed them to be.”

“That’s the problem.” You groaned, though you were sure they could tell that the fight was quickly oozing from your body with every swipe of Remus’ thumb or stroke of James’ hand against your shoulder blades. “I don’t need you to be anything.”

“So it was about us.” Sirius asserted; all caution vanished from his face and was quickly replaced with mirth.

You snorted incredulously at him and wiped roughly at your eyes as a reluctant smile spread across your face. “You are such a prat.”

“We could be your prats.” He quipped.

“Is that what you need, angel? Do you need some prats? Sirius and I are well versed; might need to coach Rem a bit but he’s a quick learner.”

“For Godric’s sake.” Remus sighed with a tired smile. “We’d been doing so well boys.”

“I hardly see how, seeing as you all made me cry.” You jeered as you pointed your nose in the air, causing all three boys to exclaim various objections.

“We’d only said hello.” James cried as Remus watched you stand and hike your bag over your shoulder thoughtfully.

“What was it that you Saw, then?” He asked; still smiling though his brows dipped challengingly.

You stared down at him for a few moments, though there was no need to search his eyes for clues; you suspected that he knew.

“This.” You admitted quietly.

A smile spread across Remus’ face; it was slow and pointed but you didn’t know quite what it meant. Yet.

“I’m glad I got to see it too.” He murmured with a smirk.

You tried to hide your blush as you left the library, fighting the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl the entire way back to your dorm.

[redhead1180]

Sunshine

Pairing - dark!Rafe x pogue fem!reader

Summary - Reader has a crush on JJ, but JJ is dating Kie. Rafe decides he wants reader to get over JJ, no matter her say in the matter.

Words - 3k

Warnings MDNI - NON CON, DUB CON, drugging with E, slapping, physical fight (m vs f), dry humping, alcohol use, drug use, rough sex (p in v), degradation, blackmail, very dark Rafe.

A/N: This is my darkest piece I have ever wrote and of course it's for Rafe. He is mean SOB in this, so if that triggers you, please don't read. Thank you to @haven247 for the beta read. I am nervous about writing this dark, but hope you like it. PLEASE HEAD THE WARNINGS!

Being at a kook party was not your idea of fun, but they had free booze and it was better than a keggar. After the last week you’ve had, you have every intention of getting plastered and trying to forget your crush and best friend was dating someone else.

JJ your best friend since you were 4 and crush since you were 14, was officially dating Kie. And it hurt, a lot. You knew it was coming, saw the writing on the wall, but held out hope it wouldn’t. The only person who knew about the crush, that you knew of, was John B. He was your brother from another mother, and knew you inside and out. You three had been friends so long, you don’t remember a time when they weren’t there. John B has given you hug and told you he was sorry the day you saw them kissing through the Chateau window. He informed you they were dating and you had gone home and cried yourself to sleep. Avoiding them this past week, but couldn’t get around it for this party.

You had watched them dance, laugh, and make out, and were completely ready to vomit. Or wait, was they alcohol? I was in my 3rd concoction of the night and was not feeling much of anything. Well physically anyway.

Anyway, you were in the kitchen getting another drink, when you heard the last voice, you wanted to here.

“Well, well if it isn’t Miss Sunshine” Rafe Cameron sneered as he walked into the kitchen.

“Fuck off, Cameron” I told him, trying not to say more and start something.

“Anyone ever told you have a venomous mouth, Sunshine” he laughed.

“Only to you, Cameron. Everyone else thinks I am adorable and sweet” my voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I bet you taste sweet” he chuckled. I turned around and caught him looking me up and down. He showed no shame for being caught. “What’s got you drowning in booze tonight? Wouldn’t have anything to do with Maybank and Carrera doing the horizontal mambo, would it?”

“You’re such an asshole, Cameron” You go to walk past him and he grabs your upper arm and pulls close to him.

“Most girls that talk to me the way you do get punished” he leered, inches from my face.

So, side note, when I drink, I think I am ten feet tall and bulletproof. And tonight was no exception.

“Let go of me you fucking psycho!” I hissed at him, pulling my arm. Unfortunately, he was so much stronger than me, my arm barely moved in his grasp. “I swear to God Rafe, I am not in the mood for your bullshit tonight.”

“Don’t call me psycho and I think I need to teach you some manners.” he growled right before he grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me in to kiss him.

I instantly started pushing on him and struggling to get free. I bit his lip and he howled in pain and jerked back. I slapped him across the face, not caring this was Rafe Cameron, Kook Prince himself, and no one ever told him no.

He snapped his head back and I looked in his eyes. They were completely black, no amount of blue left, and had a predatory look that actually caused a little fear to creep up my spine. Something else, God help me, arousal shot through to my core and made me soak my panties.

I started to back away and with each step I took back, he took forward.

“Rafe just fucking walk away, leave me alone” I try to sound defiant and flippant, but not sure I pulled it off. His grin was pure evil, reminding me of every Disney villain I ever watched.

*Oh Sunshine, you really shouldn’t have done that” he smirked. I turn to run and get one of the pogues, but he grabs me by my waist and turns me around to throw me over his shoulder.

“You psychotic motherfucker, put me down!” I yell as I punch his back as hard as I can. He just grunts and slaps my ass hard, bringing tears to my eyes and more arousal to leak out of me. My mind was telling me to fight because you hate him, but my body was yelling at me to let him have his way.

He takes you to some room, locks the door, and proceeds to throw you on the bed. He immediately grabs both your wrists and roughly jerks them above your head, causing you to arch your back from the roughness and your tits rub against his chest. The lace bra you wear offered little protection from the friction and instantly your nipples hardened. Rafe chuckles as his free hand rubs over my breasts and pinches my nipples.

“You may not want this, but your body does” he chuckles as his hand slides down over my stomach and to the waistband of my shorts. I continue to struggle, he slaps my bare thigh, causing me to gasp. I know if I looked down right now, there would be a red hand print.

“You’re a feisty thing, maybe we should get you a little more pliant.” He threatens.

I see him reach in the pocket of his shorts, but don’t see anything in his hand when he pulls it out.

“Rafe, what the fuck are you doing?” I demand trying to keep the worry out of my voice.

“Just a little something to make you enjoy it more.” He smirks as he places a pill on his tongue and grabs my jaw to look at him.

“Open up, Sunshine” he murmurs as leans in to kiss me.

I try to shut my mouth, but the hold he has on my jaw won’t let me. He shoves his tongue in my mouth and I feel the pill begin to dissolve as he devours my mouth. God he is a good kisser, I can’t stop myself as I whine in the kiss, causing him to moan. He held my jaw until the pill was fully dissolved, then he lets go, but we continued to kiss. Fuck, what was I doing, this was Rafe, I should be biting his fucking tongue off, yet I didn’t want the kiss to stop. He finally pulls away when air became a necessity.

“What the fuck did you give me, Rafe?” I pant, still trying to catch my breath from the kiss.

“Aww Sunshine, it’s just a little E to make you forget your troubles and help me fuck you without the feistiness.” He smiles down at me. I start to struggle again and hurt him in some fashion. His hold on my wrists and him between my legs really left me defenseless, and he knew it.

“Now let’s get rid of these clothes.” He grabs the neckline of my shirt and rips it down the middle. I screech from shock, and he continues ripping till it is off me.

“Oh Sunshine, you have some beautiful tits.” He groans as he leans down and latches his lips on one of my nipples. I gasp out from pleasure as he sucks, nibbles and licks my nipples through my bra. Thousands of jolts of delight ripple through my body to my core. I began to feel a zing of energy and mixing that with pleasure, I couldn’t stop myself from grinding my hips up into Rafe.

“That’s it baby, let the drug begin to work. Let me make you feel good and forget Maybank for tonight.” He murmurs as he continues his assault on my tits, his mouth on one and his hand, pulling and pinching the other.

“More” I whimper to him, trying to get more friction. He reached behind me undoing my bra and let go of my wrists, I moved my arms so he can get off. My hands fly into his hair to push more into my chest. He grinds down on me and I groan, I feel the heat build in my stomach.

I have a slight moment of clarity, where I thought what the fuck am I doing, when Rafe rolls his hips and the tip of cock hits the seam in my shorts just right to rub my clit and I see stars. I moan out as I squeeze my eyes shut and let my orgasm wash over me.

“Fuck Sunshine, when was the last time you came?” he chuckles, reaching down to unbutton my shorts and take them off. He stands up, using the opportunity of me in a blissful state, to rid himself of his clothes. I look over to him and see his cock saluting me. My eyes wide at how big he was.

“Shit Rafe, I don’t know what you plan to do with that monstrosity, but it ain’t fitting in me.” I say in wonder.

“I’ll make it fit,” he said as he spread my legs and slapped my pussy. I yelped, still sensitive from my release, but it caused a wildfire to spread through my veins. He slapped it a few more times, rendering me a whiny mess. I tried to hide my face, ashamed at how he was making me feel. I knew the E was mainly to blame, but a part of me knew it wasn’t all the drugs.

“Oh, don’t be shy now” Rafe taunted as he pulled my hands from face and roughly kissing me.

Distracted by his kiss, I didn’t notice he lined his cock up to enter me. He shoved it in my soaked pussy and I screamed in his mouth. The pain and burn from his stretching without prep was almost unbearable. Instantly, tears formed in my eyes and I pulled my mouth free.

“FUCK!” I cried out “Rafe, get out, pull out, it hurts so bad!” I cry but he continues to snap his hips into me, even though I was pushing on his stomach.

“Shut the fuck up and take it.” He growled as he grabbed my arm and jerked it above my head, slamming into me faster. I was whimpering, crying mess underneath him. He continued to pound into me, hitting my cervix, lips taking what they wanted from my lips down to my breasts.

“I’ll have you forgetting Maybank after tonight and you’ll only want my cock in this pussy. You’re mine now, Sunshine” he rasped in my ear.

“I hate you” I hissed at him.

Eventually the pain began to be replaced by pleasure, my cries turning into moans as I felt my core heat up and the band began to tighten.

“You keep saying that, but your body doesn’t,” he taunted “you might be venomous, nonchalant, and a raging bitch to the rest of the world, but all you needed was a Daddy to tame that mouth and this pussy. Didn’t you?”

I ignored him, not wanting to agree with him. Suddenly I heard and then felt the smack across my face. I let out a shocked yelp and grabbed face with my free hand. My body betrayed and a rush of arousal coated his cock.

“Oh, you like being slapped huh? When I ask you a question, you answer it, slut” he hissed at me.

“Yes Daddy” I moaned out, before slapping my hand over my mouth, not believing what I just said.

“That’s my good little slut” he teased.

He let go of my hand and reached down with both hands to push my thighs into my chest. I cried out as the new position hit my G-spot and I saw stars. Within seconds, the band snapped in my stomach and I was screaming daddy repeatedly.

“That’s it, you little cunt, cum all over my cock.” He grunted before pulling out and flipping me over on my stomach. He straddled my thighs, pulled my butt up, and shoved himself back into me. I moaned as the new position let him hit deeper. I grabbed the headboard needing to ground myself, as the drugs and orgasm made me feel like I was floating away.

He wrapped his arm around my neck, putting me in a chokehold, snapping his hips into me at such an ungodly pace. I could already feel another release coming. The drugs had all my senses turned up to an eleven, the burning in my stomach, the tingling in my core, the pleasurable pain every time he hit my cervix. I felt that if I had another orgasm, I would fly off into outer space.

“S’too much, daddy” I whine, trying to push on his stomach. “I can’t do it”

He slapped my hand away and smacked my thigh hard, making me cry out.

“You will take everything I give you. You’re my little cum slut now and you will obey me” he grunted. He grabs my arm and jerks them around behind my back, grabbing both wrists with one hand. With his other hand, he grabs hair and uses both as leverage to fuck me harder.

All you could hear in the room were my ‘uh-uhs’ and our skin slapping together. I was close as my walls begin to flutter around his cock, but he was too as I felt his hips stutter.

“You better cum before me or you’re outta luck,” he panted. “We’re not here for your pleasure, only mine.” He taunts as he speeds up getting closer to his release.

I manage to wrestle one of my hands free and reach down to rub my clit. The added stimulation almost instantly makes me fall over the edge, I scream out and clamp down on Rafe’s dick. My body convulses as I have the strongest release of my life, but the E in my system causes me to keep cumming tears falling down my cheeks as I can’t stop.

“Jesus Fuck” Rafe gasps, “You’re clenching so tight I can barely move.”

He forces his cock in and out of me as he pants and grunts. Slamming into me one more time, I feel his seed shoot out against my walls.

“fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck” he hisses. He slowly thrust back into me a few times before pulling out and flip me over. I was essentially a rag doll by this point.

“Oops can’t have any Daddy’s juices spilling out can we?” he smirks, shoving two fingers in me pushing his cum back in me. I whimpered and grabbed his wrist.

“Stop, too sensitive” I whimper out.

“Stop being a whiny slut” he sneers before slapping my pussy a few times. I cry out, tears running down my cheeks. He reaches for his phone and takes a picture of me.

“What the fuck” I snap.

“I need something to jerk off to when you’re not around”

He shows me the picture. I look royally fucked out, mascara and tears running down my cheeks, lipstick smeared all over my face, bruises and hickeys around my neck and chest. He grabs my phone and tosses it to me.

“Unlock it” he demands.

I do without any argument. He puts his number on and sends himself a text, so that he has my number.

“When I call, I expect you to answer and come to me” he demands coldly. “If you don’t, then the whole island will know your just my cum slut and enjoy it. I have evidence.” he grins.

I nod, knowing he had me, because the thought of the pogues, especially JJ finding out made me sick to my stomach. He tossed my shorts and some tshirt he found to me.

“Now you’re gonna get dressed, go back to the party and act like nothing happened. Your hickeys were from some random touran.” He instructed. “The whole time you pine over JJ, my cum will be seeping out of your cunt. Oh, and clean your face up.”

I move slowly getting off the bed. I get dressed and head to the en suite bathroom. I look at myself in the mirror and start to cry. I splash water on my face, cleaning myself up, the whole-time sobbing.

Rafe comes in the bathroom and stares at me for a minute. I turn to face him and he smacks me on the cheek, not hard enough to bruise, but enough to sting and leave his handprint.

“Stop crying like a cunt,” he mocked me, “You enjoyed it, I think I counted three orgasms from you?”

“It was the drugs” I argue.

“Sure, sure. The explain why you were soaked before I gave you the E?” he asked.

I’m looked away cause I had no answer, at least not one I was willing to admit.

“S’what I thought,” he smirked “Now get downstairs, before I change my mind and take you home, tie you up, and use you all night.”

I ran out of the bedroom and went downstairs, looking for my friends.

Walking around, I finally found John B and Sarah making out in a corner. Pope was in another room trying to woo a girl with coroner talk, the poor girl looked scared for her life. The last room I walked into, JJ and Kie were on a couch, Kie in JJ’s lap making out. My friends, wait no family, didn’t seem to have missed me.

I walked into the kitchen and made me a drink and walked outside to one of the patio chairs. My phone dinged with a message.

Remember our deal and no one finds out. Although with as worried as they were for you, not sure they would seem to care.

I downed my drink and got up to get another one, tears running down my cheeks.

How the fuck did I get in this situation and what was I gonna do. All knew was I hated Rafe Cameron and I would find a way out.

Tagging some moots:

@princessmaybank @echo-at-the-pond @babygorewhore @drudyslut @rafescokewhore @rafesc0kewh0re @starfxkr @blueicequeen19 @drewstarkeyslut @pankowperfection @maybankskiss @ch4rrykisses

[goggles-mcgee]

Phantom Fudge

I love the fics of Danny settling into Gotham and having some sort of business and just absolutely confusing the Batfam with how flippant he is about the crime.

My take is, instead of a coffee shop or bookstore or occult shop, Danny opens a fudge shop!

His parents taught him, and he found he actually really loved it, and besides, his dream of being an astronaut was out of reach due to his unique medical readings. In this au, his parents learned about him being Phantom and took it well after a good period of spiraling because-Holy shit they shot their son. You may be asking, Goggles, didn't you just make a post that was all about Jack and Maddie not taking the news well? Yes. Yes, I did.

I go back and forth with wanting to salt them and not. I like both.

So anyways, Danny is the heir to the Ghost Throne, but he won't actually take up the official title until his time on Earth is naturally over. After everything got better with his parents and his regular ghost fighting buddies, he actually was able to raise his grades and graduate. Many teachers were amazed at the progress but really, Danny may not have been as smart as his parents and sister (he is an unreliable narrator and is actually very smart just not as conventional as his family) but before his accident he had done pretty good in school. The GIW was still a thing, but without the Fenton technology, they weren't doing as well as they previously did. His parents broke their contract after they rescued him from the GIW labs, it was a little after he told his parents about his halfa status and they came storming in to save him and all the other ghosts that were captured. After that, life got so much better. His parents listened to him, and he got to teach them all about his people. They started publishing more papers with actually accurate information and were doing their best to overturn the anti-ecto acts. They haven't accomplished it, but Danny was sure they would.

That's actually why he moved to Gotham. Tucker had the idea of contacting the Justice League to help with the anti-ecto laws, but their calls weren't being answered. Neither were the...strongly worded emails Sam sent in. So Danny did what he did best and jumped into something not entirely thought out but hoping for the best. He moved to Gotham so he could get close to Batman and ask for help. He got accepted into Gotham University on a scholarship. But he wanted to make some money on his own without his parents sending him some kind of allowance, and he didn't want to work at Bat Burger. He started selling fudge around winter at his school, and he got permission to do so.

From there, he got enough money to actually open a small fudge cart. Then he got enough for a small shop near his apartment which was rather close to Crim Alley so he hired some working girls to help with the shop and he employed any Alley Kids looking for some cash as delivery workers. (They only delivered in Crime Alley, though, but that was fine with Danny.) Danny loved his little fudge shop that he lovingly named Phantom Fudge, and the sign had a cute little ghost eating some fudge on it. When he was in school for classes, he left the shop in his friend Ginger's hands. She had been a working girl before, but before that, she had had experience working a small mom & pop kind of shop, so Danny felt good leaving her in charge. When Ellie visited, she helped out with the shop too.

Danny was thriving. Then he started getting customers of the ecto variety because, of course, he would. Apparently, he was something of an ecto filter for the shades and ghost of Gotham, so they would visit his shop to soak up some of the pure ectoplasm in the air. Then he experimented and made some ecto-fudge, which is what he gave to any ecto beings that entered his shop. Most couldn't pay, but they would give him a heads up if they saw anything shady happening around his shop.

Like a little heads up that some robberies were happening in the area, or some rogue was getting close. It was a nice little system they had. Though some ghosts came in just to tell him their unfinished business and like...he wasn’t King yet, but these were his people, so he tried to help them out as best they could.

One particular couple showed up a lot and would ask him to help warn their son of any danger they heard was brewing. They would ask him to leave messages for the son or any of his kids but also the butler if needed. Danby thought this guy had some great parents. They didn't cross over because they needed to make sure their son was safe and taken care of. It was most likely that they wouldn't cross until their son did by the sounds of it. He got permission to call them Grandma and Grandpa, which was weird, but he didn't question it.

Martha and Thomas were nice spirits, so he had no problem helping them out. But Danny is Danny and his well-intentioned help of course caught the eye of the whole batfam.

They had been receiving letters in the Manor that appeared mysteriously. The first one they had all thought was a prank from the many people there. It was a simple, 'Don’t go to the gala. Something bad will happen.' That started it all. They were all baffled but laughed it off, and those who went to the gala didn't know how to feel when the seeming wait staff took over the event and held the guests hostage.

A coincidence surely.

Then they got another note, 'Freeze is planning to do a B&E and snatch some equipment from a Wayne lab. Idk which one since you have so many.' And just like last time, the note was speaking the truth. It continued from there, and everyone tried to capture whoever or whatever was leaving the notes, but any cameras they had glitched out before returning to normal and showing a new note had showed uo somewhere in the Manor. Bruce was going crazy trying to figure out who or what their messenger was.

Alfred once found a note that said, 'Tim has been awake and pushing himself too far. He is going to crash.' He took it to heart though and made Tim rest and take a break. He would not let the note happen. Tim had had far too many crashes the past couple of months.

The note that broke Bruce, though, was small in words, but it made him feel crazy. It was his parent's death anniversary, and when he went to visit the exact spot, he saw a sticky note on the floor. He shakily picked it up to see all it said was, 'It's okay.'

Now he is really worked up and determined to find the note messenger.

While that's going on, Danny also gets some local vigilantes visiting his shop, and he is so excited to see them and try and be their friend so he can ask for help. Plus they seem to be fans of his fudge and that just makes him happy.

The batkids thing the Phantom Fudge shop owner is suspicious, but hot damn did he make some bomb ass fudge.

[sems-diarie]

tw noncon, tw misogyny. sukuna x reader x yuji. in light of this wee post.

very much the bare bones of something i wanted to bust out super quick. video takes place somewhere throughout the Shibuya incident.

mindlessly scrolling his own phone, yuji finds a video of you and him that’s he’s never seen before. probably because it’s not him in the video.

..not really, at least.

yuji is going through his camera roll out of boredom, when he stumbles across a video of he and you, but doesn’t quite recognize where it’s from. he taps it w a fat thumb n’ nearly gasps when the image of your thighs pops into the frame, crowded by his own. it plays automatically.

the sound of your voice is what sets him off. immediately, your whimpering makes yuji frown. he looks closer; he can see a set of pants, wide-legged and a deep blue. pink lashes flutter; on the outsides of your ankles, yuji spots his shoes.

that is him. and—and you. in some kind of alleyway, it seems.

he recognizes your legs, the shape, the bewitching swells of them. a small part of him burns with shame; he’s memorized every curve of you. that skirt, it barely reaches the tops of your thighs—he’s seen it on your hips a handful of times before.

that’s you. and himself.

he’s stood behind you, pressing you against some kind of wall. red dust swells past yours and his toes. the camera adjusts and suddenly, yuji is looking at his own cock. then it’s gone, sunken six inches deep beneath the small, flippant denim of your mini-skirt.

where are the two of you? what—is that him? it has to be. what is happening?

as he sinks into you, inch after fat inch, your fidgeting increases. your whines and gasps grow louder. you’re fighting him, twisting away from the thick, ruthless intrusion. your pussy drips and drips and drips—if yuji looks close enough, listens hard enough, he can hear just how eagerly you swallow him up inside of you. he can see the creamy residue your pussy gushes all over him.

but yuji, it seems, holds no patience in his heart for you. the video does not waver even once as he simply holds you harder and still, while sinking his dick to the hilt. his balls smack meanly against your wet skin.

yuji scrambles for some earbuds. his head whips around, wrist snapping about on the bed to snatch ‘em up and plug his ears with your voice. your whines grow louder, closer. he can almost wrap his fingers around your throat—can see your body beneath his hands so vividly when he listens to you like this.

and as yuji observes the video longer, another voice emerges. it sounds like his own, but nothing like it all at once.

“fuck,” the voice—his voice? no.

“yuji won’t like this one bit,” it continues.

yuji can’t help the scowl from stealing into his mouth.

“i’ve gone and taken his—,” your pussy squelches immaculately over the awful sounds of sukuna’s arrogant tone. “his favorite little slut toy.”

“he should consider himself lucky,” sukuna launches his hips against yours hard enough to draw a cry. yuji winces, despite his fingers twitching over his aching cock. “i’m breaking you in for ‘im, little angel girl.”

your skirt rocks back and forth. all of you trembles under the force of sukuna at your back. he has you trapped against a wall—bits of broken glass and debris crumble beneath feet.

“shouldn’t that fuck wit thank me, hm, you stupid, sweet girl? for stretching this little pussy good n’ raw. it’ll be so s-sensitive when he finally grows a pair.”

for the first time since the video started, you speak. and it’s raw, haphazardly thrown over your shoulder as you fight to keep your wits about you. you’re crying, voice bitten with the strength it takes to keep from sobbing into the concrete he’s trapped you against.

“no,” you cry, heave. your body tenses, your voice hits a fever pitch. and soon, the sound of wet splatters mercilessly hitting the ground fills yuji’s ears. your body winds so tight, then nearly collapses in his hands.

“this isn’t how i wanted it!” your voice squeaks in the video, “this isn’t—ohhh! yuji, m’sorry—,”

sukuna grips the supple cheeks of your ass right in the palms of yuji’s hands. and something about it sends yuji into the stratosphere. sukuna is using his hands to defile you. he used your sweet yuji’s hands to then record your torment, and save it. save it—for what? for him?

yuji, m’sorry!

quiet rage quakes beneath yuji’s shoulders.

this isn’t how i wanted it!

did you know sukuna would record you? did you know he’d want yuji to watch your pussy leak bit by bit, innocence pummeled all away by his own cock—and he hadn’t even been conscious to witness, to feel it.

twistedly enough, yuji feels something has been stolen from him.

[notmyneighbor]

Special Delivery - Doppelganger Francis Mosses x Female Reader

Word Count - 3.3k

Rating - Explicit

CW - masturbation, oral sex

Also available on AO3

You’re being followed.

You’re out later than you’d intended, but there had been a lot of requests that day. Word was spreading. You were getting quite the reputation among the doppelgängers.

Imagine, a human who was betraying her own kind, making forged documents to help the invaders into DDD restricted areas.

You don’t even feel guilty about it, either, because what has any human ever done for you? You’ve been on your own since as far back as you can remember, dealt a bad hand early in life. This scheme you’ve concocted pays well. Better than any of the other less savory things you’ve had to do to supplement your income, and it came with an added bonus: you knew how to write in the alien’s language as well, the symbols you inscribe on the frame of your apartment door and workspaces guaranteeing you’ll be exempt from harm.

Maybe you could’ve done something with your artistic and linguist skills if you’d had the opportunity, but alas, this was your lot in life. Making the best of a less than ideal situation.

You deviate your course a few times, just to make certain you’re still being pursued. Yes, he’s still trailing you. You’re certain it’s male but you’re not pausing long enough to discern more than that. Well, fuck.

You take another detour. Perhaps not the best decision in hindsight. You’re further away from home now. You don’t recognize the street you’re on. There’s a delivery truck parked on the side of the road. Dairy. Should you try to hide inside? The door was open. Where was the driver? You consider your options. No one would admit you into their house at this hour, and why should they, when you’ve been selling out all your neighbors? The truck, then. Your stalker’s footsteps still sounded a fair distance away. It was your only chance at this point. Maybe you could find something to mark the symbols. If there was still time.

The step to enter the truck is high. You have to ungraciously hoist yourself inside, clinging desperately to the sides to balance your weight. Made it. Your nose wrinkles. There’s a faintly sour smell. Spoiled products. The keys are in the ignition. A feeling of foreboding washes over you. The street lamp nearby barely illuminates the interior of the vehicle. You’re afraid to go into the back. You can’t see anything you can use to write the protection phrase. Your breath saws in and out. Too loud. You’re making too much noise.

A foot on the steel step makes you whirl around. It’s your pursuer. Dressed as a milkman, but you know instantly it’s not. Replicant. Deceiver. The clone of whatever human he’s copying. He’d chosen a handsome one, though you doubt it had anything to do with appearances, more a matter of convenience. Broad shouldered. Narrow waisted. He lifts himself into the truck with practiced ease. You’re so fucked.

Dark eyes and hair. Pale skin. He blocks the light from outside as he crowds you further inside. Well, you couldn’t say you’d had a good run, but you’d done your best. You close your eyes. You don’t want to see the teeth emerge before he devours you.

“What are you doing in here?”

Your eyes fly open again. He hasn’t advanced any further. He wanted to talk? Play with his food before he ate it? Maybe he wasn’t hungry. Mabe you could talk your way out of this.

“I…I got lost on the way home.”

“You’re lying.” No malice behind those words, just an observation.

“I heard you following me. I know what you are,” you admit, then instantly regret it. Stupid girl.

“I know who you are, too. You’re the one who makes the ID’s and entry requests.”

“Business hours are Monday through Friday, 8am to 5pm.” Were you seriously being flippant with a doppelgänger? You give a little chuckle to show you’re joking around, but the noise sounds more like a dying hyena, slightly panicked and hysterical.

“Those hours don’t work for me.”

“Oh.” So he was a prospective customer then? “Cash up front, half in advance, the rest on delivery. Currently working this week behind the abandoned grocery store off of Burke Street. I have to rotate the site to, you know…”

“I’ll pay extra,” he adds. “For the inconvenience of the hour and short notice.”

You lick your lips at the prospect of making additional funds. What would be fair to charge? “You need it right now? What’s the hurry?”

“Are you able to do it or not?” This now laced with irritation. His patience and good graces were wearing thin already. Best not to ire him further. You’re lucky to still be alive.

“Yeah, I can do it.”

“I’ll drive us there, then.”

“Where am I supposed to sit?” You glance around the front of the cabin. There’s only one seat for the driver.

You see his shoulders raise and lower in a shrug before he sits behind the wheel. You suppose your only choice is to sit on the floor.

“Your truck reeks,” you say, that sour smell assaulting your nostrils again as you lower yourself down.

The engine rumbles to life. “Deliveries didn’t get made today.”

“Did you…” You’re wondering what happened to the original, human operator of the vehicle. Had he suffered some grim fate? Were his remains sitting in the doppelgänger’s gut, being digested at this very moment? You shudder at the unpleasant thought.

He glances down at you. “No. I simply duplicated his form and stole the truck. You humans leave your body substances everywhere,” he says, lifting the cap off his head and tossing it onto the dashboard. “This one perspired all over that.”

That was all it took for a doppel to replicate a human. Just a little bit of something from the original. Sweat. Blood. Mucus. Probably other, even more unsavory substances, too.

It’s uncomfortable on the floor. The truck’s suspension jostles you roughly. Luckily you don’t have far to go. The driver eases behind the abandoned brick building, shutting off the headlamps. There are no functioning street lights in this part of town. You’re shrouded in darkness.

The doppel stands and you struggle to your feet, reluctantly accepting the hand he offers you to assist you to your feet. You’ve never touched one of the invaders directly before. It feels normal. Just like a human. You’re not sure if that makes it better or worse.

You’ve been working out of the manager’s office in the rear of the store. You’ve got an actual set of keys, pilfered once you’d broken into the building. Another of your talents, that. Breaking and entering. An additional skill this unfair life has made you adept at.

You’re not used to being here so late. It’s amazing no one’s realized the building is still on the electrical grid. You’re grateful for the mistake, switching on the light in the back hallway after feeling blindly for the switch. The doppel is just behind you. You unlock the office door and hit another light switch, sighing in relief. That was better. Familiar territory. No longer in darkness.

But there’s an anxious invader at your back, and that knowledge is less than comforting. You sit down in the office chair behind the steel desk and he settles into the hardbacked one across from you.

“So, um…about the fee.”

Without a word the alien digs into his pants pocket, extracting several bills from a wallet and sliding them over to you. “Will that be sufficient?”

You’re trying to keep a straight face. Where did he get this much money? “Yes, that’s fine. Do you…do you have a home address for the individual?”

Delving back into the wallet, he now produces a car registration. Francis Mosses. You recognize the area he resides in. A better part of town than the one you’re living in, but maybe someday you could change that.

Although, you’re about to make that area a lot less safe, you think, pulling the necessary tools out of the large bottom desk drawer, including a DDD logo stamp. That had been the hardest item to acquire. The rest were fairly routine.

“I need to take a picture. Do you just want to get that over with now?” He nods. “Can you stand in front of the door? It’s a good blank background.” Another nod as you stand. He closes the office door and positions himself, waiting for you to snap the Polaroid. Damn, he really is attractive. Exactly your type. You don’t even mind the little bend at the bridge of his nose or the shadows under his eyes. You take several pictures, one for the ID card and one for the entry request, with some extras just for…well, maybe just to have options if the others didn’t turn out well.

You’re not used to being watched while you work.

You typically have the doppels come back to pick the forgeries up later. These dark eyes watch your every movement like a hawk, from the way you print onto the request form to the drag of the scalpel blade around two of the photographs(they had all come out fine), carefully affixing them to both documents. You roll the stamp in the black ink pad and press it gently but firmly into each corner, waving a hand over the fresh ink to help it dry.

“You’re skilled at this,” he murmurs appreciatively, and your head lifts to meet his gaze. “I see why you come so highly recommended.”

“It’s not like there’s any competition,” you say, feeling a flush creep into your cheeks over the praise.

“True. Not many humans would betray their own kind, would they?”

Your lips press into a thin line of displeasure. You didn’t need the reminder. Was he mocking you?

“Forgive me. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sure you have your reasons.”

Somewhat mollified, you glance down at your work. It still looked a little moist. You need it to be completely dry before you apply the lamination to seal it in permanently.

The copycat is still staring at you. You, not the documents you’re working on. You clear your throat. “I want to make sure they’ve dried properly.”

“Of course.”

“It’ll just be a few minutes.”

“I don’t mind the wait.”

You lean back and the swivel chair creaks. Your shoulders are aching. You’d made a lot of forgeries today. Too much time spent hunched over the desk. Your eyes are a little sore, too, dry and burning. You needed a bath and maybe a snack and bed. Forget dinner. That sounded too complicated at this hour.

“You’re tired,” he observes.

“It’s been a long day.”

“I am inconveniencing you greatly, aren’t I?”

He doesn’t sound remorseful, exactly. You don’t know what he sounds like. It’s too difficult to process. You’re exhausted, that post adrenaline rush from earlier really depleting the last stores of energy. You don’t even think you’d protest if he decided to turn on you right now, taking the goods and making a meal out of you before he ran. The symbols are more of a professional courtesy than anything. It’s not like it actually prevented the doppels from physically being able to attack.

The legs of the chair he’s seated in drag across the dirty linoleum flooring, making a loud scraping sound. You watch warily as he comes around the desk, easing past a filing cabinet to reach your side.

“We haven’t really negotiated the full price yet, have we?”

Oh. Was that what was happening? He was going to stiff you. Suddenly that advance amount no longer seemed so generous. That was to be your total payment. Honestly, you should have been more demanding.

“I have more money,” he says, immediately canceling out your previous assumption, “but I don’t think that’s what you need most right now.”

“You’re right. I should be at home in the bathtub. Or better yet bed,” you add.

His hand reaches for the edge of the chair, turning you fully to face him. The abrupt movement catches you by surprise.

“Maybe what you really need is some good old fashioned milk.” His hand closes over your wrist, dragging your hand towards what you’ve somehow missed previously. He’s hard. Like full on, bulging, fit to burst out of his trousers. You should be terrified. You are scared, kind of. But turned on. Stupidly aroused because you haven’t had anyone give you this kind of attention in who knows how long. Sex had just kind of fallen by the wayside for you. There was so much else that needed to be accounted for.

You watch the hand pulling the leather strap of the imposter milkman’s belt in wonder, as if you can’t quite reconcile it’s your own doing this. Its partner joining, thumbing the button of the fly through the slot and parting the metal teeth below into a wicked grin. You shove the waistband of his briefs down and his cock springs free, flushed and thick and oozing precum. You stare at that clear bead of fluid as if hypnotized. Your mouth waters. You want it. You want to suck this creature dry.

Your tongue swipes over the crown of his erection and the doppel hums in pleasure. “Good girl,” he says encouragingly, and the praise sends heat right between your legs, your pussy tingling in response. You’re no longer thinking about your unfinished work on the desk beside you, about how dangerous it is to be alone with a doppelgänger in an abandoned building at night. You’re instead wondering how much of that dark pink length you’re going to be able to voluntarily sample before your gag reflex interrupts and he’s forced to fuck into your throat manually. Your sex throbs again. Time to stop wondering and find out.

Your lips close over the head and begin sliding over the shaft. Clean musk. A better flavor than perhaps you’d anticipated. You take a few experimental bobs, testing. He’s stretching you already. Your lips. The fat head bumping your cheeks, your soft palate. His fingers are in your hair, combing through the tresses with a strange kind of tenderness.

“So good. You’re so talented…”

You whimper a little, trying to reach more of him. There it is. That natural barrier of your body’s resistance. You struggle against it until you’re forced to withdraw, coughing and gasping, leaving a trail of thick saliva behind. You give yourself a brief respite, stroking the slick fluids over his prick. It makes a lewd squelching sound every time you massage the shaft. You can feel your arousal leaking between your legs, saturating your panties. You reach under your skirt, no longer caring about how depraved you appear. It’s a relief when your fingers make contact with your clit, dragging that wetness around the nub in frantic circles.

“That’s a good girl. Touch that pussy. It feels good, doesn’t it? So good…”

Your mouth engulfs his cock again. You roll your lips inward and massage the length in short bursts. Now relaxing and planting soft, passionate kisses on the tip. You spit on it and slurp up the liquid noisily. You like the sounds the doppel is making. You’ve never liked the men who were quiet, reserved. This invader isn’t holding back. He moans and groans and hisses. His teeth catch his bottom lip. His head tips back when the ecstasy of the blow job gets to be a bit overwhelming. And you love every minute of it. You savor every sound and gesture as you perform the obscene act while masturbating, grinding your swollen bundle of nerve endings against your pubic bone.

“You’re hungry, honey, aren’t you? Starving. I’ve got what you need, darling.” The nails of the hand you have curled around his hip dig into the cotton and polyester blended fabric of his uniform pants as you push yourself even further down his length, this time bruising your throat. You ignore the discomfort, grateful when the hand in your hair finally tightens and you feel him begin to fuck your mouth, battering the rear of that moist cavern over and over. “You want a drink, baby? You ready for it?”

You hum in agreement and he eases up, withdrawing until just the head of that thick phallus sits on the tip of your tongue. You’re panting, moaning, frantic for his release perhaps even more than your own.

“Here you go, sweetheart.” A couple of swipes along the shaft and that brief pumping is enough to send him over the edge, thick pulses of cum now spraying the inside of your mouth, pooling on the wedge of muscle his dick rests against. There’s a lot. An absurd amount. You can feel it leaking from the corners of your mouth. Bitter, but not the worst you’ve tasted. Sheer coincidence your body decides to shatter the instant you swallow that load, forcing that creamy baby batter down your gullet while your pussy spasms against your relentless finger.

“There you go, baby. Good girl.”

The milkman’s doppel bends to kiss you, surprising you with the gesture, now of all times, licking your face clean before thrusting his tongue between your lips and you crash right into another orgasm, moaning and twitching while the imposter fucks your mouth with his tongue.

Truly wrung out now, you collapse against the back of the chair, your chest heaving. The doppelgänger refastens his pants, but not before you notice it looks like he could go another round soon, and oh, doesn’t that make your cunt throb again in spite of being so recently satisfied, twice no less.

It takes great effort to smooth your skirt and your mussed hair back into some semblance of order, returning your attention to the documents that are certainly ready by now, the ink well set. The doppelgänger doesn’t return to his seat, instead remaining beside you, watching as the final protective layer is applied.

“There you go. Finished.” You glance up to see the doppel’s gaze fixed on you again, the money forgotten in his hand.

“Maybe…maybe we could work out a deal for the remainder of the payment.”

Your heart speeds up a little. “I’m listening.”

“Maybe I could make special deliveries. To your residence. For as long as it takes to cancel the debt.”

You hum, pretending to consider the offer even though you already know what your answer will be. “What happens after that?”

“We can renegotiate the terms when the time comes.”

“Interesting.”

“Interesting as in you want to think it over, or…interesting as in you definitely want more?” He bends to kiss you again. Gentler this time, but no less appealing.

“The latter.”

“Good. I was hoping you’d say that.” He sets the cash on the desk. “Consider that a tip then, for a job well done.”

You’re not going to argue with that. You hurriedly put everything away and lock the office again, soon finding yourself back outside next to the truck.

“Are you walking home, or do you want a ride?”

You weigh the discomfort of being on the floor in the smelly vehicle against walking home alone at an even riskier hour, where an encounter with another doppel would most assuredly not go as pleasantly.

“I’ll take the ride. But you need to clean the truck out.”

“I’ll do it in the morning.”

“The real milkman must have caught hell losing all these orders and the company car,” you murmur as you return to your former position inside the vehicle.

“Not my problem.”

“Every man for himself, right?” You can hardly condemn the attitude, given your current career choice.

“Exactly.” A flash of teeth in the darkness. He steals another kiss before starting the engine, bending low to capture your lips.

You’re delivered safely to your apartment building minutes later, personally escorted by the cloned milkman.

“I’ll bring you your next delivery tomorrow night, hmm?”

“Okay.” He’s standing so close. It takes just the slightest lean for him to kiss you again.

“Unless, of course, you wanted another advance…”

You shove the door you’ve already unlocked open, inviting the doppelgänger inside.