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notmyneighbor · 2 months

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Let Me In ~ Doppelgänger Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Female Reader

Chapter 4

Word Count ~ 4.5k

Rating ~ Explicit

CW ~ minor blood and violence, sexual content

Also available on AO3

taglist @luthien-elvenia-asher

Fanart used with permission @kaworinx on Instagram and TikTok

You’ve only barely begun to recover from the wrung out feeling of ultimate bliss when you hear it: the warning klaxon, followed by the sound of tires screeching to a halt. The aggressive roar of truck engines. Doors opening in rapid succession. Loud voices and boots pounding on pavement.

The doppelgänger jerks upright, sliding off the bed and wrenching the curtains to one side to peer down at the scene unfolding on the street below. “They’re here,” he says, and for the first time you detect something like fear wafting from the imposter.

A flood of relief washes over you. Someone had alerted the disposal unit. It wasn’t too late to save lives after all.

You search for your discarded clothing, hurriedly sliding the retrieved garments back into place. Francis’ copy looks at you.

“They’ll know you let me in.”

“Yes,” you agree distractedly, hastily shoving the hem of your blouse back beneath the waist of your skirt.

“They’ll know,” he says again, more firmly this time, moving in front of you, one hand closing around the wrist you’ve yet to refasten the shirt cuff upon. “They’ll know about me.”

You stare at him, realization kicking in. The others were safe. You, however, had no such guarantee. “Are you going to kill me?”

“I should. You’re a liability.” His grip on you abruptly relaxes. He’s merely holding you now. “Your organization will punish you for this.”

You shake your head, trying to hastily tuck your hair back into place. “Not once they hear my explanation.”

The intruder scowls. “What defense will you offer? You knowingly let a replicant into your precious building.”

“I…” Your confidence wavers as you begin to consider how your actions will appear. He’s right. There’s no excuse for what you’ve done. You’ve not only failed at your assigned task, you’ve betrayed your own kind. An unforgivable crime.

He seems to read the slight panic on your features, his voice gentling. “Suppose we make a deal,” he says.

You look at him warily. “What kind of deal?”

“I make it look like you were attacked while you tried to fend me off. Make up some doppelgänger appearance when they ask you. Don’t tell them about Francis’ death. You get to live. I get to go down the fire escape, avoiding extinction.”

A life for a life, in essence. The elevator was temporarily disabled the second the alarm was pushed, but it won’t take the team long to sweep each floor. You were running out of time.

“Okay,” you reluctantly agree.

He turns your arm over so the underside is exposed, thumb pressing firmly just below the hollow of your elbow. “This will hurt,” he cautions. The only warning you get before you see it: that thing inside of the milkman breaking through, emerging. A sickly gray-green digit topped with a sharp yellow claw. He drags it right through the fabric of your shirt, right through your skin. It burns. A blossoming line of red appears, your lifeforce weeping out of the laceration. You feel lightheaded and nauseous.

“Don’t look at it. And don’t let it get on the carpet. We need to leave, now.” He steps back into the milkman’s shoes, not even bothering with the laces. You follow him to the front door, exiting the apartment. Locked again. You hear voices echoing in the stairwell, the heavy tred of the suited disposal unit pounding on the steps.

“Remember what I said.” The imitation’s knuckles graze your cheek, the touch almost tender. The injured arm cradled against your chest is throbbing. “I’m going to knock you out. It will help further disguise what happened.” The voices are getting louder. They’ve finished on the second floor, making their way to the third. The doppel’s fingers curl around the back of your neck, his mouth brushing yours hurriedly before your head is slammed against the wall, sending you hurtling into a void of darkness.

***

There is a debriefing after the incident.

No casualties. The residents were safe, excluding Francis, of course. You have a lie ready to account for his sudden absence. You say you’d heard him mention something about an emergency visit to a sick relative in a neighboring city as he’d dashed out the front door earlier that day. A phone call to his employer wouldn’t match this story, of course. You weren’t sure what family the man even had. None that would corroborate your fabrication, certainly. You were just hoping that your claim about him needing to leave abruptly very early in the morning without contacting anyone was convincing enough. It’s all you can think of on the spur of the moment.

The director, a severe looking middle aged man, frowns over the lenses of his glasses at you. You keep your hands folded tightly in your lap. Your stitched wound is slowly healing, the ache now a sort of dull throbbing that you’re consciously aware of from time to time. No apparent signs of infection, the surrounding skin clear.

“Your track record, up until now, has been impeccable.” The older man’s voice brings you out of your reverie.

“Yes, sir.” It’s true. For six months you’d performed your role as doorman perfectly. Never failing to detect a single doppelgänger. Protecting the innocent.

“Still, this is not a transgression that can simply be overlooked. The consequences of your misjudgment could have been dire.”

You’d stated that you’d realized the person requesting entrance was really a copy only after the door had been opened, catching an error on the paperwork at the last minute. Intervening, attempting to stall the intruder. Injured and knocked unconscious. You knew nothing more after that.

“It’s suspicious that none of this alleged false documentation has been retrieved at the site. Strange also that you’d been carried all the way to the third floor. We also have no record even remotely matching the description of the doppel you’ve given. How do you account for these discrepancies?”

“The replicant stated they were a new resident moving in to the vacant apartment on the third floor. It seemed plausible that there hadn’t been a chance for them to be featured on the day’s list yet. It’s hardly the first time someone’s name hasn’t been placed as it should be. The subtly incorrect DDD logo was the tip off I unfortunately picked up on too late, sir.” You pause, clearing your throat. There is virtually no moisture left in your mouth and you find it suddenly parchment dry. It’s difficult to speak, your nerves betraying you. “The replicant must have taken the paperwork with them in order to conceal the evidence. And I was knocked out immediately after being cut. I don’t remember anything after that.”

His lips press into a thin line. Your force yourself to maintain eye contact. This was your explanation and you could not falter. “Even so. You failed to follow protocol. And you failed to contact the disposal team.”

“There wasn’t time to dial the phone number. Not even time to sound the alarm. I simply reacted on instinct. I was hoping to…”

“To what? What did you think you would accomplish? You, a mere unarmed woman?” He drapes the last word in contempt. You flush, squirming in your seat at the insult.

The suited man sighs heavily, closing your file folder. “You’re going to be suspended without pay for one week. Then I expect you to return to work. Your temporary replacement is…less than ideal. Let me be clear, though: if anything else happens, you’ll be terminated. No debriefing. No excuses. Understood? This is your final warning.”

You nod, saving your sigh of relief for when you’ve exited the office. The air departs your lungs in a loud rush. You’d done it. You’d actually managed to talk your way out of it.

Your thoughts immediately shift to Francis’ doppelgänger.

He was out there, somewhere. The safest move would be to travel, to just flee the area entirely, but you doubt he’ll leave. He’s still here.

You can feel him.

***

You drive to your house, to the home of your childhood. An inheritance from your great grandparents, passed down through each generation. Outside of the city. Quiet. It’s a relief to see green again. The air smells clearer, too. No waste from factory smokestacks or concentrated exhaust from automobiles. A light scent of grass and summer wildflowers. You roll your window down, inhaling deeply. It’s the best you’ve felt in a while. Since before the incident.

Francis. Your good mood departs just as quickly as it had arrived. How terrible a person you are. Lying to save your own skin. To protect the doppelgänger that had killed your beloved milkman. Putting innocent lives at risk. You had no right to feel anything even resembling happiness or contentment. You should turn the car right back around and return to the office. Confess your sins and receive whatever punishment would be decided for you. Imprisonment, certainly. Perhaps a life sentence to match the life that had been stolen from the third floor resident.

You trudge up the steps of the porch, sinking down onto the topmost stair, your head resting against the post of the railing. There are strips of paint peeling, you notice. You’ll need to sand them down before you apply more stain. Something to occupy you during your week off. Distract you from your own misery.

You close your eyes and listen to the hum of insects. There is another scent in the air now; something damp. The sky’s clouds were white and fluffy looking, but you know those can change in an instant. You think there is a storm approaching.

Perhaps you will wait it out. Just rest here and see what happens, studying your surroundings. There are birds singing in the vacant field that hasn’t known crops for many seasons. You only tended a much smaller one close to the house. Some vegetables. That was all. More often than not the local wildlife took a sample, but you didn’t mind sharing. You should have a look before you head back inside later on, see if there is anything to harvest.

It’s comfortable here. The sun is at the perfect angle. You still have plenty of shade. Warm enough to warrant rolling your shirt sleeves back. Catching sight of the scabbed, sutured line marring your forearm. You trace the mark. You think about the copycat tracing your cheek. That final kiss before he’d knocked you unconscious. It made so little sense to let you live. Had some remnant of Francis’ psyche influenced him somehow? Urging him to spare you?

Your eyes slide closed and you drift off to sleep still mulling this over.

***

In the dream you are standing in the nearby orchard.

You know it is a dream, because in reality these fruit trees are no longer tended. Yet here you are, standing beneath the crooked branches of one peach bearing specimen. The many smooth emerald leaves shield you from the sun.

Francis is beside you.

Or not-Francis. You cannot say which it is. The smile is as you remember. The perpetually tired eyes. He reaches for one of the velvet skinned fruits, plucking it easily and handing it to you.

The texture is exactly as it should be. Not too firm and not too soft. Ripe and ready to take a bite from. You do so, your teeth sinking into the soft yellow flesh. A burst of sweetness on your tongue. The excess juice drips down your chin. You offer the peach to the milkman but he doesn’t accept, instead moving to take a taste of it from your face, first doting on your lips before he laps at the dribbling trail. You clutch his shirt and his kisses become rougher. Pushing you gently to the ground. You drop the fruit and your hands become full of his shirt, his hair, the soft earth beneath you. His mouth plants kisses along your cheeks, your jaw, your neck. Hand dragging down through the floral patterned button front dress you’re wearing.

“Francis.” You reach for his face. It’s wrong. Something in the structure of the nose. So subtle it could easily be mistaken. The teeth suddenly bared in a smile that’s unfriendly. A grin of triumph. It isn’t Francis. You’ve been duped by an imposter.

The skin ripples. His eyes become bloodshot. You struggle to move. Your wrists are pinned at your sides. Sharp teeth nipping at the skin of your throat. A wolf ready to destroy its prey.

The thunder awakens you.

You jolt upright, massaging your stiff neck as you glance around hurriedly. The sky is a mass of gray clouds now, the natural illumination of the heavens notably dimmed. The air is laced with the scent of petrichor. You rise and the first drops of rain fall, pattering on your bare arms, sinking into you hair. Another disgruntled warning rumble, louder this time. The interval between that and the next shortening. You’re about to turn and enter the house when you see a figure standing nearby, on the outskirts of the side yard.

It’s him. The imposter that took over Francis.

The normally pristine, starched uniform is dirt stained, collecting souvenirs from the unpaved road leading to your house. The bowtie around his neck is loosened, draped around the unbuttoned shirt collar, the first several buttons of that work shirt similarly unfastened, revealing the white undershirt beneath. He’d never bothered retrieving the hat, the uncovered thatch of thick chestnut hair now tousled. Your fingers curl around the railing for support as he begins walking towards you with determined strides, closing the distance rapidly. The thunderstorm’s namesake harbinger sounds again. A flash of lightning. The rain is no longer a faint scattering of drops, now falling in an earnest deluge.

You both manage to escape being drenched, finding shelter beneath the porch roof in the knick of time, the imposter halting just in front of you. His chest is rapidly rising and falling, as if that brief exercise he’d just participated in was taxing him. You know that’s not the reason for those panted gasps for air, your own body mimicking that movement.

“Francis,” you say, but the name is drowned out by the growing ire of the storm.

He moves then, pressing you against the weathered clapboards near the living room window that overlooks the front yard. He cups your face between his hands and his lips crush yours. You respond without hesitation, kissing him back. Not giving yourself time to think about what you’re doing; to recall the dream you’d just had where you’d been destroyed by one of his kind.

“How did you find me?” You gasp when you part for air.

This utterance is barely audible, threaded between the next two bouts of thunder, muffled by the sound of the downpour. He slides his fingers against the harsh furrow on your arm. “I could sense where you were. Tracked you…” The words drowned out once again. His mouth moves close to your ear. “What did you say to them? What happened?”

“They bought it, for the most part, I think. The director is suspicious, though. I got suspended for a week.”

Another flash of lightning. It was foolish to remain outside any longer. You invite him in, struggling to fit the key in the lock, your trembling fingers not cooperating. His hand closes over yours, steadying you. The door surrenders, swinging inward.

It’s dark in the living room. You switch on the nearest lamp and toss your keys on the table.

“I’d offer you something to drink, but I don’t know if you still do that, or…” It was unknown what the doppelgängers consumed for nutrition. Perhaps it would be different now that they could occupy a human body and not merely disguise themselves as one.

“I do. But that can wait.”

“Did you know that would happen? You being able to trace my whereabouts when you cut me?”

“No. It’s uncharted territory. Like so much of…this,” he murmurs.

“You need to call Francis’ workplace. Explain to them that there was a family emergency. That’s the excuse I gave for the sudden absence. The DDD has been looking for you. Well, for him,” you correct yourself.

“They’ll expect me to return at some point.”

“Yes.”

“So you’ll let me in. To dwell there. And what of my brethren?”

“I can’t let them in. You know that.” You swallow nervously. “You can’t harm anyone. If I let you inside, you have to promise me you won’t. You got what you wanted. You got to be one of us. There’s no reason to hurt anyone else.”

A large clap of thunder makes you jump. The doppelgänger moves closer to you, tipping his head to one side thoughtfully. “You think I’ll cooperate?”

“We had a deal. I let you escape. I lied to protect you.”

“And I let you live. Both ends of the bargain fulfilled. There is no obligation beyond that.”

“You don’t want to hurt me.”

“Are you quite sure of that?” One arm circles your waist, drawing you against him. His fingers sift through your hair, tugging your head back slightly. “These hungers for the flesh are so distracting. How your kind manages them…” His voice trails off and his lips touch yours.

The light flickers and dies. You’ve lost electricity, now standing in the darkened room cradled by the deceiver.

“<i>The earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep</i>…”

You inhale sharply, thinking of the Bible on Francis’ nightstand. Reading scripture like any good devout soul, learning verses by heart. That memory resurfacing now.

“Francis.” You know it’s no longer him, not in his purest, human essence, but this evolution still holds traces like this that you can’t help but hold dear.

“I’m here, sweetheart.” His hands slide down over the curve of your buttocks as he kisses the corner of your jaw. You guide him towards the nearby couch, watching him sink into the cushions before you climb into his lap, your shoes sliding off and falling to the hardwood floor. You run your fingers through his hair, your mouth ravaging his. It’s the parts of Francis that you love that you’re adoring, you tell yourself. Not the pretender, but the fragments of the man inside he still carries with him. That is what your fingers caress and your mouth cherishes. You unbutton his shirt the rest of the way, then reach for the belt buckle, jerking the leather strap free from the metal, all while your lips and tongue work in a frenzy over his.

The rain and the thunder becomes white noise, a nearly muted sound in the background as you unbutton his pants and pull down the zipper, the metal teeth parting to reveal white briefs. You touch his erection through that thin material, feeling the hard, thick line of it and he hisses, then groans somewhere near your neck.

“Yes, love, that’s what I need…”

You shove your hand beneath the elastic waistband and you make contact with feverish flesh. Another groan from the imposter. You sweep over the head of his cock, realizing he’s circumcised, smoothing leaking precum over the dome before you wrap your fingers around the shaft and begin stroking up and down. He moans into your mouth. It’s not the best angle, your hand a bit squashed awkwardly between your bodies. You slide off his thighs to sit beside him, never breaking contact, still pumping his prick, rolling your fingers over the crest as you reach the top, thumb dragging over the frenulum with each pass. Your tongue dances over his and you feel the arousal leaking from your own sex, soaking your panties.

Another glob of clear fluid oozes from the tip and your mouth waters. You want to taste it. Want to feel him in your mouth.

Your lips abandon his and he frowns, confused until he sees your head bowing over his lap, your body shifting as you engulf his turgid member. Another hissing sound of pleasure as the slightly musky flavor hits your taste buds. You haven’t fully taken him inside yet, only reaching close to halfway, applying suction as you move across that shallow expanse, allowing yourself to become accustomed to the length and girth of him. His fingers touch your head, not applying force, just resting there. You release his cock with a wet popping sound, stroking your saliva over his erection before taking him into your mouth again. You push deeper this time, forcing your lips closer to the base of his cock, to the nest of dark pubic hair. Your throat protests and you gag, the fingers on your head now tightening, pressing, urging you on.

“Sweet girl, that’s it, you can take it. All the way. Fuck.” The curse is something you’d never imagine coming from the milkman’s lips, but you find yourself aroused by it, the depravity of what you’re doing erotic. Your head bobs, dipping lower each time, eliciting an obscene wet squelching sound as his prick collides with your throat. There’s a higher pitch to his sounds of pleasure now. His hips lift to meet you, shoving him in as deep as he can reach while your nostrils flare, searching for a greater air supply.

Your nails dig into this thigh. The loosened belt buckle jingles with each thrust into that moist cavity you’ve provided. The fingers in your hair loosen, allowing you a brief respite. You withdraw and cough. A thick trail of saliva connects your lower lip to his glistening cock. Your fingers massage through the slick and he hums appreciatively. Your lips feel slightly numb, tingling from the stretch. There’s a burning sensation in your abused throat, a soreness when you swallow. But the discomfort is bearable. You want to do this. You want him to feel good.

You suck in a lungful of air and then begin again. You hear the replicant’s breathing becoming shallower, more rapid. He’s getting close. You redouble your efforts, moving fast and deep.

“Sweetheart, you’re going to make me…it’s so fucking good…”

His hips snap up and an acrid spill of semen floods your throat. It catches you by surprise and you choke around the pulsing erection. It’s a copious amount of seed that spills over your retreating tongue. You swallow down the last of the bitter fluid, straightening, dragging the back of your hand across your spit drenched chin.

“That was…you…” The creature is speechless. You can’t help but feel a little pride over that. He captures your lips, mulling over the taste he’s left there. “I want to taste you,” he says, and your pussy throbs. “I want you to cum inside my mouth.”

He moves off the couch, kneeling in front of you. Shoving at your skirt. You hurriedly hook your thumbs over the edge of your panties and drag them down, feeling how wet the crotch is as they drag across your legs. Scooting closer to the edge, spreading yourself open for him.

His face moves forward and his tongue parts your folds. Laving down to gather a sample of your arousal. Humming with approval at the taste of you as he focuses on your clit. A long, slow drag over the sensitive nub. You whimper. His thumbs wedge along either side of your sex, stretching the pink flesh further open. His mouth covers your cunt and he sucks and your thighs try to close, the sensation overwhelming.

“Oh sweetheart, you’re delicious.” Slurping on your clit now. You thread your fingers through his hair, caressing his head as his tongue flicks across the hooded button. He doesn’t need guidance this time. Everything is the way you like it. Dividing attention between your clitoris and the entrance of your pussy. Pushing that muscle inside, fucking you with his tongue, alternating with lapping at your bundle of nerve endings. You wish it wasn’t quite so dark. You want to see his eyes. You know he’s looking at you even if he can’t discern much in the dim gray light filtering in through the windows. Watching your reaction even as he feels it in his mouth. Hears the pleading, the needy gasps and moans, the whining that begins the closer you get to coming apart in his mouth.

He moans, too, and the vibrations of that sound add another layer to your pleasure. A finger makes its way inside you. Violated by a second soon after, thrusting while he sucks your clit. You climax, panting his name over and over, your fingers frantic in his hair, your pelvis quaking as your grind yourself against him.

Eventually your movements lessen. He eases back and your quivering legs draw closed. He rejoins you on the couch, his mouth on yours, gifting you a taste of yourself.

Then you sit quietly, listening to the diminishing storm outside. The rain drums on the roof and taps along the gutters with a soft metallic sound. Your face is tucked into the doppel’s shoulder, one hand resting on his chest, feeling his heartbeat, his arm curled around your shoulders.

You shouldn’t enjoy this. Any of this. You should be afraid, disgusted. Instead you feel oddly calm. Safe in his arms, even though you certainly aren’t. These alien beings were masters of deception and manipulation. You know better. It was foolish, what you were doing. Dangerous—for you, for everyone else.

But you’re convinced more than ever that some part of Francis is still buried within. The goodness of him negating the evil of this imposter.

“I’ll make the call in the morning.” The first words spoken in a long time. Your head lifts. “And I’ll move in to the apartments.”

“Just you. And you won’t harm anyone.”

“You ask for too much.”

“I’m giving up everything for you. Risking my job, my life, the lives of the people I’ve sworn to protect. My heart. My soul,” you finish with a whisper. “I don’t think you understand how many things I’m sacrificing.”

“I’m not human. It’s impossible for me to. There are no words for them in our language because they simply don’t exist.”

“But you want to be us. You should understand…”

“I will make the call and I will move in. Beyond that I am not promising you anything. Except…I do not want you harmed.” He reaches for your arm, tracing over the healing wound he’d inflicted. “I will try to prevent that, at least.”

A small concession, perhaps, but an important one nonetheless. If he was willing to spare you, maybe you could convince him to spare others.

Teach him the value of a human life while taming the monster within that wears the face of the man you love.

#francis mosses #francis mosses x reader #francis mosses x you #milkman #milkman x reader #milkman x you #thats not my neighbor

1K notes · View notes

evillysilly · 26 days

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5 | check out.

content warning: nsfw (lewd), blowjob, dubcon, hair pulling, sub francis, dom doorman reader

a/n: i feel like the last drabble i made was ass so why not make another one hehe. holy shit word count is around 1.3k

(⸝⸝๑ ̫ ๑⸝⸝⸝) , (,,¬﹏¬,,) , ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;)⁭ ⁭

"mmm.. is this.. really necessary?" your lovely and attractive neighbor, Francis, asks you, sitting on the desk right in front of you. your warm hands sending electric shocks through his body, exploring his body.

"juuust checkin' for something, Mister Mosses, no need to worry." you reassure him, fingers stroking his navel softly and deliberately. "mmm.. I see..." he murmurs, he couldn't help but if everyone in the apartment building got this treatment, he tried to focus on his breathing, telling himself that you're just doing your job.

he could feel his hands on the edge of the desk twitching, wanting to grab yours and pull you closer, but he keeps them still, not wanting to get ahead of himself at all... while you trace delicate circles on his sensitive skin, his breath hitches, a soft whimper escaping his lips. his eyes closed, his mind racing with such thoughts. he does not know why he's reacting this way, but he couldn't deny the burst of pleasure flooding through him.

"mmm.. a-apologies... I..-" he stammers, his voice barely audible. he feels vulnerable, exposed, but there's an undeniable thrill coursing through his veins. Francis clenches his grip on the desk, trying to calm himself down as you shush him.

"hey, it's fine. it's normal to feel like this when getting checked." you reassure him, acting like you have done this to the other residents— spoiler alert— you have not. literally not at all.

Francis swallows hard, trying to keep his composure as you continue tracing your fingers on his navel, wanting more noises to come out of him. you were making him feel things he hasn't felt in probably years. he could feel his head spinning, he quietly sighs as you continue to trace your fingers across his skin, his heart pounding. He can't help but lean into your touch, his breath hitching again.

"mm... alright..." Francis mutters quietly, his voice shaking. he doesn't know why, but he wants this to continue, even though it feels wrong. he's never felt this excited about being checked, but there's something about you that makes him want more.

you relax your eyes, loving Francis' reactions, you never thought you'd be doing this to the resident you were always drawn to because of how mysterious and how pathetic he looks, you couldn't help but be drawn to him just because of that! but here we are now!

"well, what do we have here?"

your fingers trailed down to Francis' crotch, the unknown bulge showing visibly and it was tightening the milkman's pants. Francis softly gasps at the touch, his breath hitches, his whole body tensing up. he's not sure if he should be embarrassed or if he should be enjoying this. his mind is spinning, unable to process the sensations coursing through him.

"wuh- what are you doing..?"

"look, it's growin'."

Francis blushes deeply, realizing what was happening. his heart pounds in his chest, his breath coming in short gasps. he can't believe he was getting aroused just because of you touching him, but there's no denying the evidence in front of him. his eyes dart to the side, avoiding your gaze as embarrassment washes over him.

"mmm.. I- I don't.. didn't know... I'm-"

"now, don't apologize, Mosses, I'm here to check you out, remember?" your lips curve up into a smile, hands going up to Francis' waistband, slowly pulling them down along with his boxers. Francis could feel his knees going weak, his heart pounding. He can't believe this is happening but.. he doesn't want you to stop. at all.

as Francis lifts himself up slightly for you to slowly pull down his lower clothes, he bites his lip, his eyes locked on you. he can feel the heat creeping up his face, his breathing coming in short gasps. "mmm..."

his body trembles, his cock standing, begging for attention as you look at it in awe, it was twitching already, you look from the shaft to Francis, smile widening. "well, didn't expect you to be wet already."

you look behind Francis just to check if someone's there, but luckily for you, there's nobody there, before someone could catch you two, you shut the blinds by pushing one of the buttons on the desk, looking back to Francis and his dick that's been needy for attention.

you finally lean down, blowing the bright red tip a kiss as you feel Francis jolt, his heart hammering in his chest. he can't believe what's happening, his mind racing with thoughts and emotions. he swallows hard, his breathing was so uneven. he feels like he's in a dream, a beautiful, erotic dream.

"mmn.. you.. you don't have to..." he whispers, he's never felt so turned on, so desired, and it's both terrifying and exhilarating. he doesn't know what to expect, but he can't help but feel a sense of excitement.

you look at him with a smile, sticking your tongue out. "but I want to." you proceed to lick the tip that's been leaking with pre-cum, hearing Francis let out a soft moan, his hips slightly jerking, wanting more. "ahh.. please.. mm.. more..." he doesn't know what's coming over him, but he can't help but plead for more. he feels like he's on a precipice, and he's not sure if he wants to jump.

you hum in response, taking Francis' hand and placing it on your hair, gesturing that if he needs to stabilize himself, he can just grip your hair.

after that, you begin to put all inches of Francis' shaft in your mouth, feeling the tip hit the back of your throat.. that would definitely leave some kind of mark there. you slightly gag on it, covering his dick with your saliva.

Francis grips your hair tightly, relishing the feeling of your mouth slobbering on his cock, your mouth enveloping his aching erection, your tongue swirling around it. he feels like he's in a fantasy, something he never thought he'd experience.

"mm.. oh..." he breathes out shakily. he feels alive, like he's experiencing something he's missed all his life. you're taking him deeper, and he can't help but let out another soft moan, his hips bucking as you take more of him.

you close your eyes and hum around his cock, sending vibrations as you start bobbing your head, hearing more of those lovely noises from the resident you're sucking off on. his body was trembling. your mouth moving up and down his member, tongue lapping the pre-cum spilling out of his slit up, your warm breath brushing against his skin. your hands grip his hips, holding him in place.

"mm.. yes.. m-more..." he whines, trying his buck his hips but couldn't due to your hands gripping his hips firmly. your mouth moves in perfect rhythm, receiving more moans from the resident, those noises got you addicted, ever since you've heard it earlier, you were having a raging hard on.

you swirl your tongue around the sensitive head, fastening your pace just a little bit, feeling Francis' grip on your hair tightening, making you moan around him. he feels like he's on the edge, and he doesn't want to come down.

"mmmngh.. o-oh God..." he breathes out, his voice scarcely heard. he can't help but let out more soft moans, his back arching slightly. this feeling is unlike anything he's ever experienced, and it was thrilling.

his orgasm is building, and he can feel it coming, his body tense, his breath coming in short gasps. he doesn't know what to expect, but he can't help but want more, more, more.

and then, it happens. a wave of pleasure washes over him, and he lets out a soft cry, his body arching slightly, his hands gripping your hair tightly. you're there, catching every drop of his release greedily as his body trembles.

as you swallow every drop of him, you pull away, licking your lips. "guess we're done here, hm? you're free to leave, Mosses."

"a-ah, yes." Francis slides himself off the desk, pulling his boxers and pants back up and hastily buckling his belt as he steps out of the security booth. "..thank you." he mutters, before leaving.

let's just say you two were definitely gonna meet up more often after this.

#zzz... writes #dom male reader #francis mosses x male reader #francis mosses x reader #francis mosses x you #milkman x reader #oneshot #smutshot #whatever its called #i was gonna make this longer where reader breeds francis but im so fucking lazy rn

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roxanneslosteyes · 2 months

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So I went on YouTube and I check my alerts on my account from YouTubers I subscribed to and I saw a new video from Jay from Kubz Scouts and I saw this on his thumbnail

And I can't stop laughing at this image of Francis 😭

#that's not my neighbor #thats not my neighbor #tnmn #francis mosses #milkman

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cielphantomhive321 · 4 months

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Why OurCiel Pretended to be his older brother. Alert: Spoilers

Let me Just say this. So Francis Milford is literally asking why OurCiel pretended to be his brother .I mean seriously take a look at this part in chapter 132.

She’s calling him the spare and a burden for the watchdog’s duty. Her of all people should know why he pretended to be r!ciel 😑.

He looks so sad I really wanna hug him 😭. He knows that he’s not fit to be an Earl and to him he’s just a spare and a burden. And he had to hear it from his aunt saying that. Not only did he suffer on his 10th birthday but he felt like a burden to his family too 😭.take a look at chapter 137 how he felt about himself.

Exactly what I meant he knows that everyone won’t be as happy if he was the one to return home he described how every one of his family will react if the r!Ciel doesn’t come home. He even said I’ll be better if he was the who died. That’s too much 😭😭. He’s so innocent and cute I love him soo much 😭🥺.

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stardustbarbarians · 7 days

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Feet First, Don't Fall

A Daniel Wagner / Samuel Kiszka fic

Summary: Before a set, Danny and Sam blow off some steam.

Tags: fluff, younger Sam and Danny, shenanigans

Trigger Warnings: drug use (weed)

Words: 9.3 k

Author's Note: Heyyyyyyyyyyyy I'm back. So, this one has been in the works for about half a year and I'm super proud of it. If y'all remember back in like 2022, Shadow said that he was told to keep an extra close eye on Danny and Sam because they have a tendency of trying to run away, this fic was inspired by that. Another note: Sam and Danny are, like, 19ish in this. As usual, this fic is dedicated to @ofthecaravel because she was my biggest cheerleader for this fic <3. Title taken from Halsey's Roman Holiday. As always, please enjoy! <3

+++

Sam was fucking tired. Not physically, of course; the three espresso shots flowing through his veins made sure of that. But, this was the fifteenth show they had played in the past month. Mentally and emotionally, he was trucking along on E, and even the fumes he was running on were starting to get stale. There were only so many times he could play Highway Tune before he wanted to bite through the strings of his bass.

Currently, the four of them were lazing about in the makeshift green room of the festival they were about to play. It was a white tent with clear plastic cut-outs to mock the sanctity of a window. The tarp did not breathe at all and there was only so much that the small opening at the front could do. Sam could feel the hair at the back of his neck sticking to him, making him want to scrape all of his skin off his bones and throw it into the wash. He was trying his best to stay his heat stroke with a crude fan he folded out of a printed out drink menu, laying bonelessly across three folding chairs.

He felt rather than saw when Daniel came up to him, kneeling down next to him. Sam wasn’t exactly sure why, but he was always finely tuned to be aware of Danny whenever they were in proximity of one another. It was like his own personal, internal Danny-Radar.

“Hey,” Danny leaned over to Sam, his brushed out curls tickling the skin of Sam’s arm.

Sam wasn’t at all startled by the intrusion on his dramatized suffering. The bassist just lazily opened his eyes to find that Danny was leaning over him, a glimmer of mischief flickering in those rich amber eyes. Sammy glanced down momentarily to see there was a smirk playing across Danny’s lips. Sam knew that look, it meant he was scheming.

“What are you planning, Wagner?” He hadn’t meant for his voice to sound so starstruck. Though, if he was being honest, he wasn’t surprised by his tone much.

Danny didn’t respond. Verbally, anyway. All Daniel had to do was look over at the opening of the tent and back at Sam. That smirk on his lips grew just a tad bigger, making something shift in Sam’s stomach.

Immediately, Sam felt his lips break out into a smile once he put it together. It was as if Daniel had read Sam’s mind; it was exactly what Sam needed. They had hours before their set, might as well blow off some steam.

“How are we gonna get past security? They’re on high alert after last time,” Sam whispered, trying his best to make it seem like they weren’t scheming.

“Last time” had consisted of the two of them slipping away under the not-so watchful eye of security and setting off a shit-ton of fireworks in the parking lot of the hotel they were staying at. There wasn’t any damage done, however the rest of the guests weren’t appreciative of their free tickets to a fireworks show at three in the morning.

“You doubt me, Francis?” Daniel had a playful look in his eye that made his smirk grow into a full smile. That strange feeling was back in Sam’s gut.

“These are the professionals, Robert. Lou was practically child’s play compared to these guys.” Sam motioned over to the very professional security guard that was standing sentry at the door. Even if he wasn’t wearing that tight shirt with “security” printed across his chest, you’d be able to tell what this guy’s profession was. He even wore those ridiculous wrap around sunglasses.

“Just follow my lead.” And before Sam could question him, Daniel was off.

With a sigh of resignation, Sam peeled himself off the chairs he rested on to follow after Danny. He disparagingly departed with the fan he folded. Something told Sam he would need both hands for whatever their future held.

When it seemed that Danny thought he was going too slow, he grabbed Sam’s wrist that was hanging at his side and started dragging him along faster. And, yeah, maybe he was dragging his feet a little, but he really didn’t want to go out in the ninety degree heat again.

Daniel ducked out of the tent opening, Sam mimicking him when the flap nearly smacked him in the face. The evening sun was still blinding as Sam made the mistake of looking directly at it, blinking dumbly as he tried to clear the dark spot burned into his vision. He relied solely on Daniel’s guidance to weave through the crowds of other musicians and various press people.

They only made it a few steps before they were caught. And just when Sam thought Danny’s “just go for it” approach was going to work.

“Hey! Where do you two think you’re going?” The voice was loud, projecting over all the other din around them. It was gruff, too. Another point towards Sam’s argument that this guy was really just a walking cliche. If he turned around and this man had either a sucker or a toothpick hanging out of his mouth-

“Sam isn’t feeling good. I was taking him to the medic’s tent,” Daniel smoothly lied, tugging his friend in close to his side. Normally, the extra body heat would make Sam want to hiss and pull away, but being pressed into Danny’s side didn’t bother him at all, it seemed.

Picking up on the clue Daniel dropped, Sam schooled his features to how he imagined he looked when he was sick. He pulled his brows together, pinching his eyes slightly and pursing his lips. His final touch was when he brought his hand up to his forehead. He hoped he looked pathetic enough to garner sympathy but not so bad as to make it seem like he couldn’t perform later on. When he finally looked up at the guard, there was a fucking toothpick hanging from his lips. Sam had to suppress the urge to scoff out a laugh, biting his cheek hard enough to sting.

Forcing himself to look away from the toothpick, Sam looked over the man’s body language. He noticed a very small but noticeable shift in the guard’s gait as Sam looked at him through his lashes. Sam had known how effective his puppy-eyes were… had used them more than once to manipulate his way into getting what he wanted. Or in a few rare instances, getting out of trouble. So, what good were they if he didn’t break them out for this instance.

Sam wasn’t sure if it was his stellar acting or the pleading eyes that made the guy break, but Sam was just glad it worked at all.

“Alright, go ahead. But make sure you’re back in time for your set,” the guard dismissed. Sam could hear Danny let out a sigh of relief next to him. Guess he really was just winging it.

“Will do,” the drummer quickly responded, using the hold he still had on Sam’s wrist to swiftly tug Sam away from the guard before he changed his mind or saw through their ruse. They disappeared into the crowd, Daniel making sure to be swept up in the hustle and bustle of the festival happenings.

After he was sure they were out of sight, Sam began giggling, the thrill of getting away with something they shouldn't be bubbling beneath his skin. Sam couldn’t help but jump at the excitement mounting in his veins, a bright and brilliant smile making his cheeks hurt with the force of it. Daniel was matching his level of elation, albeit a little more subdued.

“Now that you’ve gotten us out here, what’s our next move, boss?”

“Great question, Sam. Truly, one that deserves a good pondering in order to answer-”

“You’re making this up as you go, aren’t you?” Sam cut off with a laugh, feeling his smile growing so wide that he flashed his bottom teeth.

Daniel looked over his shoulder at his best friend, a dazzling smile of his own spread across his lips. Time seemed to slow. And Sam, if he weren’t being pulled along by Daniel, would’ve stopped dead in his tracks. The bassist felt as if his heart was about to burst out of his chest as he took in the sight of that vibrant smile that made the skin around Danny’s eyes crinkle and his nose scrunch. Though it was brief, Sam could see his eyes twinkle with the light of the sun that beat down on them all, yet he seemed to somehow tame within his beautiful irises. Perhaps it was because the sun found a kinship in Daniel that it was willing to spend a moment captured within his soul. Sam’s breath caught in his throat, frozen alongside the rest of time. This always seemed to happen, that pause between seconds, when Daniel flashed that smile at Sam. And every time, Sammy wasn’t entirely certain he would survive.

“Yep! But it’s gotten us this far, hasn’t it?”

That was what finally broke Sam out of that trance. That, and Daniel directed his head away from Sam so that he could see where he was walking. And while Sam adored Daniel’s smile, he was glad he wasn’t directing it at Sam anymore. It always did strange things to his heart that Sam wasn’t equipped with the ability of parsing out the meaning of. Although, it was equally as likely that it was those 3 espresso shots he’d drunk too.

“By the skin of our teeth,” Sam shot back, attempting an annoyed tone. He was betrayed by his own voice, the words coming off as lighthearted.

“Oh, c’mon, Sammy,” Daniel had stopped short, leaning into Sam’s ear as he spoke, so fucking close to Sam’s neck and cheek that he had to fight off a shiver shooting down his spine, “since when are you afraid of getting into a little trouble?”

Danny pulled away to give Sam a challenging smirk, something dark yet playful gleaming in Danny’s eye. He had used a deep tone, keeping his volume low when he murmured into Sammy’s ear. Sam’s face felt like it was scorching, blaming the burning sun that had been overly warm all day long.

“You’re losing your nerve, Kiszka.”

Sam sputtered at Daniel’s challenge, taking major offense at the remark. Lost his nerve…

“Excuse you, sir, who out of the two of us has been booked?” That only made Danny’s mischievous smile grow, much to Sam’s chagrin.

“Yeah, and that scared the hell out of you. The Sam I know would already have us busted out of this joint,” Daniel goaded, hardly able to keep his grin out of his tone. And, listen, Sam knew he was being played. He knew that Danny was just saying shit to rile him up. But…

“That so, Wagner?”

Sam ripped his wrist out of Danny’s hand, completely forgetting they were still connected until that moment. He felt strangely cold at the loss of contact, frankly baffled that that was even possible considering the baking sun.

He forced those thoughts away from his mind, rapidly scanning his surroundings for a way to escape the hustle and bustle of the festival. And that was when his eyes landed on the golf cart stationed next to a tent filled with snacks and water. Sam felt a grin of his own spread across his lips, an idea popping in his head like a lightbulb going off.

“Follow my lead,” Sam quoted, a mocking of Daniel from earlier, leaning into Danny’s personal space to whisper the words under his breath. And Sam swore to himself that he saw Danny shudder, but… that made no sense. They were both sweating their asses off in this heat wave, why would Danny be cold?

He filed that away for later and nudged Danny’s shoulder with his own, walking past him towards the snack tent. He briefly glanced over his shoulder towards Daniel to quickly bounce his eyebrows at Danny with a playful smile pulling at his lips. That snapped Danny out of whatever spell he was under as he shook his head and hurried after Sam.

As Sam walked into the food tent, he realized he should have a plan. But, hell, Danny didn’t have a plan and he was able to get both of them past security. So, Sam just decided to wing it and pretend like he had a plan. To look cool. Not because he was trying to impress Danny. That was ridiculous and childish. No, he was a rockstar and rockstars always look cool so he should act like one.

And so Sam decided to walk up to the man who looked like the supervisor and the one who would have the keys to the golf cart and… and flirt with him, he guessed. He really had no fucking clue what he was doing, he just hoped he looked like he did.

“Man, I heard the snack selection here was good, but they never said you would be on the menu.” Sam flashed his most devastatingly charming smile he could, raking his eyes up and down the, frankly, average looking white man looking for the keys to the golf cart under the guise of checking him out.

The man, halting mid bite of an apple to look over at Sam, only for his eyes to go wide in panic as he hurriedly finished his bite. Juice from the fruit was dripping down his chin, which Sam caught a glimpse of before the guy turned around and wiped it with his sleeve. Sam felt his face curl up in distaste, catching Danny’s eye from where he was stationed at the entrance of the tent, confusion pinching his face.

What are you doing?! Danny mouthed, his hands raising in question as he gestured to the supervisor.

Go stand by the cart! Sam mouthed back, flapping his hand quickly and emphatically at the aforementioned golf cart. He quickly had to plaster on that charming smile again as the guy turned to face Sam, the juice from the apple gone and the fruit also missing.

“Y-You’re Sam Kiszka,” the guy stuttered out, his eyes still wide as he looked at Sam. So he’s a fan… Sam could definitely work with that.

“Sure am, sugar. And who do I have the pleasure of talking to right now?” Sam purred, internally cringing at the tone he employed. But, he had a job to do and he wanted to impress Da- himself. He wanted to impress himself. Nobody else.

“Uhhh…” the man seemed to freeze as Sam took a step closer to him, running a hand down the man’s shoulder to his chest, pinching the lanyard around his neck that held a set of keys on them. The man’s eyes glanced down at Sam’s hand, his face changing color.

As he was distracted, Sam chanced a glance over at Daniel, checking to see if he was where Sam had told him to be. And there he was, stationed by the golf cart with his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face- wait. Why was he scowling? There was no reason for him to be so upset-

“Luke. My name’s Luke,” the guy, Luke, finally answered, a nervous laugh following the words. Sam had to suppress the urge to make a face as Luke’s breath wafted over his face. It didn’t smell bad or anything, it just unsettled Sam that he was so close.

“Ooooh, like Luke Skywalker? That’s such a cool name, I’ve always loved the name Luke and I always thought it was super sexy,” Sam flirted, really laying on his accent thick. He was certain he was starting to sound like one of those Valley Girls as he pitched his voice up just a bit, complete with twirling his hair with the hand not still touching Luke’s lanyard. He even went so far as to giggle after he spoke, knowing he was really putting it on.

“Oh, really? Because… that’s who I’m named after!”

Liar

“Oh my god!” Sam giggled again, leaning in closer to Luke, “you’re soooo funny!!”

“Yeah,” Luke breathed out, his confidence swelling due to Sam fluffing up his ego, “I’ve been told that a time or two.”

“I bet all the ladies fall over themselves just to get a piece of you.” Sam was lying through his teeth at this point. Luke was about the most mediocre white guy you could picture. It was as if someone had gone into the sims and attempted to make the most generic white adult male possible and they ended up with Luke.

“W-Well… I wouldn’t say that…” Luke scratched the back of his neck nervously, sending a shy smile Sam’s way. And while Sam had no attraction to this man whatsoever, he had to admit, that smile was kinda cute. In like an endearing way.

“Well, they’re just missing out.” Sam leaned in just a bit closer, his nose nearly brushing Lukes. His heart was pounding in his chest, the beat sounding like thunder in his ears. He knew what he had to do to get those keys; Luke wasn’t so easily distracted that he was about to be ok with Sam stealing from him without a very good distraction.

And that was when he screwed his courage to the sticking place and closed the distance between them. Luke made a surprised noise as their lips connected, Sam having to suppress one of his own. He’d never kissed someone with facial hair before and it was a surprising sensation. It only lasted for a few seconds; seven, to be exact. Just long enough for Sam to slide his hands to the back of Luke’s neck, unhook his lanyard, and toss the keys in Daniel’s direction. It was… a strange kiss. Sam decided he didn’t like it. Not because it was a man he was kissing, but because he kept trying to push his tongue into Sam’s mouth and Sam really wasn’t having it.

Sam pulled away, pushing down the powerful urge to shove the guy for trying to take it too far. And, well, Sam guessed he kinda had himself to blame for that one since he was the one who initiated all of this and was heavily flirting. And then he heard the golf cart turning on, which he knew Luke didn’t hear judging off the dazed look he was shooting Sam.

“What was that?” Luke breathed, his tone incredulous as he stumbled a step towards Sam. Sammy ripped his gaze away from the stunned man, seeing Daniel aggressively waving his hands at his best friend to get his ass over there.

“A distraction,” Sam answered, sending a wink towards Luke as he ripped himself away from his touch and bolted towards Danny.

He laughed rancorously as he jumped into the passenger seat and told Danny to step on it, gravel crunching as the wheels spun on the ground before jolting forward. Sam, forever a little shit, turned in his seat and waved at Luke with a smile on his face. Sam couldn’t help but laugh at the stunned and distressed look on the man’s face as he watched two rockstars set to perform in two hours speed off with his golf cart.

“That was some stunt you pulled, Sam,” Danny complimented, though there was this strange undertone to it that Sam couldn’t quite place. But it was… well, Sam didn’t want to say “dark”, but that was the only thing coming to his mind.

However, he was too high off the adrenaline of successfully pulling off a stunt that he improvised on the fly to care. He hollered and whooped as they sped off towards the exit, throwing his hands in the air.

“How’s that for nerve, Danny boy!” Sam grinned, knowing he went above and beyond Danny’s little taunt.

“Gotta admit, I didn’t think you had it in you, Sam. Color me impressed,” Daniel admitted, a smile on his face that matched his words. And that totally did not make Sam’s heart do a flip inside his chest. Because he was not trying to impress Danny. Sam wants to make that blatantly clear. He’s not.

“Remember this the next time you doubt me,” Sam chirped, settling his hands behind his head in an act of cockiness.

Daniel just laughed at Sam’s theatrics, his head tipping back with the force of it. Sam’s smile faltered at the way his heart tumbled inside his chest at the noise, how it felt as though the organ was jumping for joy at the sound. See, that was a major motivator for Sam, getting Daniel to laugh like that. Despite the fact that it made Sam’s heart just about explode inside his chest, he’d do just about anything to get Danny to laugh as boisterously as he just did.

“Yeah, yeah, lap it up, Sam,” Daniel dismissed, that laugh still intertwined with his words and leaving a bright smile on his lips. Sam watched raptly as Daniel’s hands deftly navigated the wheel of the cart, his lithe fingers he knew were littered with calluses sliding and wrapping around the textured black plastic. He had to forcibly remove his gaze away from Danny’s hands in fear that he would be caught staring, feeling his cheeks heat at the realization that that was absolutely what he was doing.

“So-” Sam cleared his throat, the tone coming out high-pitched, “So, what now?”

Daniel quickly glanced over at Sam, a whisper of the devious grin slipping back onto his features. Maybe Sam ought to lay off the caffeine… that had to be why his heart kept skipping a beat inside his chest.

“I heard there’s a spot not far from here that has a killer view of the sunset… and, who knows? Maybe you can use your star-power to get a few of these people around here to give us some free weed.” Once again, the words Danny spoke were light-hearted as usual, but that dark undertone from earlier was back beneath them.

Once again, Sam decided not to look too deep into it in favor of preening at the implication that Sam had “star-powers”. “Just point me at the right person and I’ll charm the pants off them.”

Sam had laughed at that.

Daniel didn’t.

+++

“I’m still baffled at how you were able to rob that man blind of his entire stash of pre-rolls,” Daniel coughed, handing the joint off to Sam, bringing his free hand up to bring his shirt over his mouth to catch all of his hacking. He kinda wished Sam had used his flirting powers to con some water from someone; his throat was burning.

“Never underestimate the power of batting your eyelashes, Daniel,” Sam flippantly responded, patting Danny on his back before taking the joint from him.

Daniel thought back to what Sam meant by “batting his eyelashes”, the exact look Sam gave that guy burned into the back of his eyelids. He wasn’t exactly positive why that doe-eyed, pleading look from Sammy as he did, in fact, bat his lashes as he begged silently for the guy to hand over his pre-rolls stuck with him. There was just… just something about the way he looked up through his lashes, making his already large eyes even bigger as he pouted his lip just barely and knit his brow. It had awoken something deep inside Daniel that now refused to be quieted or satiated despite Danny’s best efforts to silence it. It manifested in a whisper in the back of his mind that seemed to simply point out the obvious. Like, currently, that voice was murmuring in his ear how beautiful Sam’s eyes looked in the burning light of the setting sun, how the pinks and reds of the clouds reflected onto his skin and made it seem as if he were blushing. Or, how his glittering smile was the crowning jewel of the moment, outshining even the grace of Mother Nature in that moment. And, frankly, Danny was at a point where he wasn’t sure if it was the weed that was making him dizzy anymore.

Daniel returned Sam’s smile, weak and brief. He felt his heart flutter within his ribs, absently placing his hand atop his chest where it resided. He skirted his gaze away from Sam, opting to burn his eyes with the sun rather than with Sam; it was less painful. However, as his mind drifted back to a half an hour ago, Daniel realized his heart was going to lurch inside his chest regardless.

“Hey, man, nice flag,” Sam complimented, his voice low and sultry. Daniel, who was sitting in the driver’s seat of the cart, felt his hand involuntarily clench around the wheel at the tone Sam employed. His mouth went dry, his tongue feeling too big for his mouth.

The guy with the aforementioned flag turned on his heel, his eyes lighting up as he took in the visage of Sam. The flag that he had tied around his shoulders like a superhero cape was of the American flag with one minor tweak: a gigantic pot leaf slapped right in the middle of the red and white stripes. Sam, who was currently setting his features to look more sensual, had taken to draping himself against the bar that supported the roof of the golf cart. Daniel could only see the back of him, but the way Sam leaned his forearm onto the metal beam and let the rest of his body go liquid gave him away.

This was certainly a new development, Sam using his wiles to get what he wanted. Well, Danny shouldn’t say “new”. Sam had always gotten what he wanted through whatever means necessary. But, using his good looks and sex appeal to get what he wants? That was brand new. Like, he just started that today brand new. And, frankly, Daniel wasn’t all too thrilled to be there to witness this new development first-hand.

“Wanna c’mere and see it up close and personal?” Flag Guy asked, his eyes raking over Sam and all his long, lean lines appreciatively. There was no misinterpreting his tone, nor the smirk that gave him a shark-ish look. It made Daniel’s skin crawl, his lip curling up in disgust on its own accord.

Sam, going along with the plan of getting free shit, giggled. And, god help him, started using those long, beautiful fingers that were adept at playing bass and keys, to play with a lock of his silky hair. Daniel wanted to slam his head into the steering wheel hard enough to crack his skull. He couldn’t believe Sam was essentially whoring himself out all in the name of getting free drugs.

“You come over here, cowboy,” Sam ordered playfully, a bubbly laugh intertwined with his command. He lifted his free hand up to beckon the stranger over with a sly curl of his finger, a smile to match probably pulling up the corner of those pretty lips- Hold on. When did Daniel start calling Sam’s lips pretty?

The stranger obliged without qualm, practically kicking up a dust trail behind him with how fast he was high-tailing it. Danny watched him adjust the stars and stripes cowboy hat on his dirty-blonde mess of curls before he “turned on the charm” and leaned into the golf cart with a hand resting on the roof. That shark-like grin was back on his lips, and so was Danny’s sneer.

“Well, you’ve got me here now, pretty darlin’, what did you want with me?” the stranger drawled, a southern accent that Daniel had not heard the man utilize until now dripping off his words. Lust was gleaming in his dark eyes as he towered over Sam, hiding absolutely nothing of what he was thinking. It made Danny want to rear back and punch the guy’s teeth in so hard that he was shitting them for weeks.

To Daniel’s absolute horror, he watched Sam’s hand reach up to curl its fingers around the knot in the flag around the man’s shoulders. When it was in place, Sam yanked him down so that his face was just a few inches away from Sam’s. And that was when Daniel was able to see Sam’s face for the first time since he started this whole disturbing charade. His lips were pulled back in a sultry smirk, one so searing they were certain to leave a mark. His eyes were hooded, the lids only open at half mast as they gazed lustfully at the stranger’s lips. It simultaneously made Daniel’s blood simmer with a heat he didn’t quite understand and make his stomach drop to the ground as his skin went cold. It was worsened by the fact that, when he looked over at the stranger, he was giving that look right back to Sam.

“This,” Sam answered, his voice low and husky, before he used his hold on the man’s flag-cape thing to tug him forwards enough to close the distance between them.

If Daniel had a nickel for every time he watched Sam kiss a man in front of him and it caused a confusing amount of rage to flood his system… Well, he’d only have two nickels. But it was infuriating that it happened twice… within the hour. And when the stranger’s free hand went to tangle into Sam’s hair, Daniel had to force himself to look away. The rage that had flooded his system turned white-hot, his blood boiling beneath his skin. He felt his jaw clenching so hard it made his teeth gnash and squeak as he ground them, his grip on the steering wheel so hard that he felt his nails nearly break the skin of his palm.

“Holy shit,” the stranger breathed under his breath, signaling to Danny that they had finally broken away from one another. Danny still couldn’t look at them. Instead, he elected to look dead-set out the windshield.

Sam giggled again, making Danny’s jaw clench even tighter.

“Yeah?” Sam asked, his tone light and airy.

“I mean…” the stranger let out a whistle that made Daniel want to slam his head into the side of the cart and run him over. How fucking dare this guy.

Sam - really setting out to test Daniel’s patience, it seemed - giggled once more. “Can I ask a favor of you?”

“After that? Anything.” He had dropped the fake southern drawl.

“You wouldn’t be willing to give me any of your weed, would you?”

Sam’s tone made Daniel turn his head towards him. And he regretted it immediately. Sam had taken to looking up at the guy through his lashes, a pleading flavor to the knit in his brow. Once again, it made something stir deep within Daniel’s gut that he didn’t quite understand; it was equal parts lust and jealousy.

Jealousy??

And when Sam had started to bat them, Daniel couldn’t stop the low growl that slipped out of his lips.

That was when the stranger turned to look at Daniel for the first time, seemingly just now realizing that Danny even existed. And, well, to be fair to the guy, if Sam was coming on that strong to Danny, he’d block out the rest of the world, too.

…..He would??

“Is… Is he ok?” the stranger asked, flicking his eyes over at Danny to indicate to Sam who he was talking about.

Sam looked over at Danny for the first time since Sam had begun this flirtation and… Danny couldn’t help the breath that got caught in his throat as he trained those puppy eyes onto Daniel. Truly, they were every person’s kryptonite.

When Sam turned his head back to face the stranger, his fingers still wrapped around that stupid flag, Daniel felt as if he could breathe again.

“My driver? He’s fine,” Sam waved away, quickly putting that pleading mask back onto his face. He took his bottom lip between his two teeth, further batting his eyes at the stranger. “Now, back to what I asked?”

With a deep chuckle that made Daniel’s rage grow, the stranger reached into his back pocket and pulled out three cardboard boxes about the size of Danny’s finger. His eyes never left Sam’s as he handed them over, but jerked them away when Sam went to grab them.

“It’s gonna cost ya,” he muttered, his forehead practically touching Sam’s. Daniel was not plotting the best way to locate this guy after their set and break all of his bones for taking advantage of Sam like that. He really wasn’t. He also wasn’t thinking of how to convince the twins to distract Sam for him while also giving him an alibi while he disposed of the body.

But, before Danny could even open his mouth to tell him that that comment would cost this scuzzy man his life, Sam once again planted those soft and full lips onto the undeserving man’s lips. Make that three nickels.

At least this one didn’t last as long as the last one. Within a second or two, Sam was disengaging with the man’s lips, to Danny’s relief. Though, it only slightly quieted the fiery rage boiling his blood.

“Now, that’s something I can get used to,” the stranger purred, making Danny’s restraint snap.

He hadn’t even realized that he had enacted a plan to save Sam as he reached across the vacant seat that his best friend once occupied, grabbed him by the back of the shirt, and yanked him back down into the golf cart. Sam squeaked in both surprise and protest as he was forcefully sat down onto the plush vinyl seat.

“No, you fucking won’t,” Daniel growled, all but baring his teeth as his grip tighten around the red patterned shirt Sam wore. It was a nice shirt on Sam, the color red always lovely on him. And the way he wore it, nearly completely unbuttoned and loosely draped around his frame, complimented him. Daniel had to will himself not to get distracted by the expanse of tan skin across Sam’s collar bones that reflected the golden hour sunlight.

Sam, as he glanced over at Daniel, seemed both bewildered and… and turned on? Was that lust that Daniel saw simmering in Sam’s eyes? But, when Danny blinked, it was gone. So… maybe he didn’t see it.

“Daniel?” Sam asked, gentle and soft. It made Daniel’s skin tingle.

“We’ve got what we need, let’s go,” Danny whispered to Sam, trying his absolute best to keep his… his jealousy (might as well admit it at this point) out of his voice.

When he knew Sam was safe inside the cart, Daniel floored the accelerator and sped away from that creep as far as he could. He could hear the man’s protests as they took off, but they were soon drowned out by Sam’s giggling.

“Daniel?”

Danny was ripped out of his thoughts, his eyelids batting rapidly to help clear his head of the memory. Looking over to see Sam’s soft, teasing smile certainly helped jumpstart his heart; the poor organ just about lurched up into his throat at the sight. And, of course, the wind decided that just that moment was the perfect time to pick up. Sam’s satin locks billowed around him in a halo, some of it getting caught in his lips. And because of that, Sam giggled in between sputters to rid his mouth of the foreign substance. He finally reached up his free hand and pulled the hair from its temporary prison, full on laughing at the ridiculousness of it; the weed probably aiding Sam’s giggly mood.

Daniel was certain he was going to have a heart attack at this rate. It could not be good for the poor thing to be beating so hard and fast for so long.

“Hello?”

Danny’s attention finally snapped to Sam rather than on him, the drummer forcing himself to pay attention and not get distracted by Sam’s artistry.

…Come to think of it, he had to do that a lot, actually. Like, this was far from a new development. Damn, how did it take him this long to realize-

“What, Sammy?”

“I asked you what you were thinking about!” The bassist ashed the joint, his feet kicking out under him. Danny, after racing away from the weed creep and flying past the entrance security before they could be stopped, found this gorgeous clearing that overlooked the waves of the local lake that burned with the colors of the vibrant sunset. Sam was the one to climb onto the roof of the golf cart first, calling Danny a pussy in no unclear terms for having reservations about doing that himself. As always, Sam was easily able to goad Danny into doing whatever he wanted. At this point, Daniel was certain he was unable to say no to Sam.

Jesus, he had it bad.

Daniel, panicking just a bit at the question Sam posed, hastily searched his surroundings for an answer that wasn’t the truth. Because telling Sammy that he was stewing in jealousy over watching his best friend kiss someone else was pretty fucking damning.

“Swimming,” Danny blurted out, his face heating up in embarrassment under the expectant look Sam was giving him. He darted his eyes between the bassist and the waves lapping at the shoreline about ten feet below them. As soon as the word left his tongue, Daniel had wanted to dive right into the water and swim away. It was so obviously a lie that even he knew it.

“Hmm,” was all Sam said in response, his eyes finally leaving Danny. Finally, the drummer felt like he could breathe again. He knew Sam didn’t believe him, but he was letting Danny get away with the lie.

It fell silent between them, the void of voices only awkward on one side of the conversation. Wordlessly, Sam passed the joint back to Danny. Their fingers brushed and Daniel felt utterly ridiculous for how his breath caught in his throat at the touch, his cheeks burning once more. He quickly busied himself with bringing the filter to his lips, the skin of his fingers buzzing with warmth and fervor. He should’ve been concerned that that humming spread to his lips as he touched them, but he was trying his absolute best just to shove it from his mind; just like how Sam had kissed two people today. And we’re back at square one.

Daniel held the smoke in his lungs for longer than what was probably healthy, exhaling through his nose in order to get that extra bump. At this point, anything was worth getting that nervous and jealous seething from his blood. Danny figured that if he got high enough, that thrumming would be replaced by the hum of the weed. And maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to keep Sam from his thoughts for a moment. He knew it was a fool’s errand and that getting as high as he was would bite him in the ass later. Because, let’s face it. There was no forgetting Sam Kiszka.

“Sam?” Daniel was sure he had drawn his name out, the syllable being pulled from his dry tongue like taffy. Danny had to suppress his giggle at that analogy, forcing himself to stay focused.

“Yes, Daniel Dearest?” How was he able to always be so smooth and calm??

“What… What’s it like, y’know… kissing a guy?” The drummer’s heart was pounding so hard in his chest he felt the vibration of it throughout his entire body. He was just proud of himself for keeping his voice steady.

Out of the corner of his eye, Daniel saw Sam turn his head to look at his best friend. He wasn’t brave enough to return the look. Instead, Danny brought the joint back up to his lips and pointedly kept his eyes trained on the fading pinks of the sun on the horizon.

With a soft giggle that did nothing to slow Danny’s thundering heart, Sam adjusted his posture so that he was leaning back on his hands, his head lolling to the side as he rested it on his shoulder.

“It’s not all that different from kissing a girl, really,” Sammy answered, that easy-going attitude slipping into his tone. Truly, Daniel envied Sam’s ability of nonchalance. What he would give to have even a fraction of that right now.

“No?” Danny prompted, stealing a glance towards the bassist for long enough to notice the wind had taken to playing with his hair once more.

“Nah, not really. I mean, there’s stubble and facial hair that you’ve gotta live with, but it’s not uncomfortable. And, I mean, that last guy was in some desperate need of chapstick.” Sammy had swiveled his head to fully look at Danny again, a blindingly charming flash of his teeth as he nudged Danny with his shoulder. That was another thing driving Daniel absolutely mad: the two of them were close enough to be constantly brushing one another, but left just enough space to have deniability.

Danny knew Sam was going for comedy, but all he managed to do was reignite that resentment inside Danny.

“Yeah, I bet.” Daniel really did not mean for his voice to come out so flat and toneless, but he supposed it was better than the alternative.

Once again, it fell quiet. This time, Daniel felt that awkwardness radiating off both of them. Without so much as a glance, the drummer passed the dwindling joint back to his bandmate with a set in his jaw. And when their fingers touched again, Danny held his breath until the feeling passed and willed himself to ignore it.

Despite the calming lull of birdsong, crashing of waves, and the warm fingers of the summertime breeze tracing along their exposed skin and nuzzling their hair, the drummer was far from soothed. His plan of getting completely stoned to feel numb was failing. As he felt his irritation rise to a level that was far from acceptable, Daniel forced himself to take some deep breaths and focus on all those placating things he listed earlier. He allowed his jealousy to leak out of his every breath to be carried away by the wind, to drift away into the fading sunlight and disappear along with the sun as it dipped its sleepy head below the horizon.

Sam had puffed out a breath of his own, the intoxicating smoke billowing from his plush lips before he tossed what was left of their glowing roach of a joint into the trash bin off to the side of the clearing. His surprised laugh at making the bin rang out against the sky, similar to the calls of the gulls screeching above their heads; though, Sammy’s was more melodic and joyous.

“Why do you ask?” Sam suddenly asked.

“What?” Danny turned to face his best friend, confusion swirling with the smoke in his head.

It must’ve shown on his face because Sammy broke out into another fit of giggles after looking at Danny. What he didn’t know was that Sam had to laugh. If he didn’t he’d do something ridiculously stupid like tell Daniel how much he loved him. And that simply wouldn’t do. So, instead he laughed.

“My god, you can’t focus today!” Sam kept laughing, hiding his smile with his fingers. A shame, Daniel thought to himself.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. What do you want my excuse to be? The heat, the weed, or the dehydration?” It was Daniel’s turn to nudge Sam with his shoulder, feeling his nose scrunching up with the force of his laugh.

“All three are acceptable,” Sam decreed, running his hand through his hair as he spoke, “But, seriously. Why did you want to know what it feels like to kiss a guy?”

Suddenly, Danny didn’t feel like laughing anymore.

“Oh, I was just… curious…” To Danny, the most interesting thing in the world was his wringing hands. He simply could look nowhere else but at his calloused hands as they danced with one another.

Despite the fact that Danny was not looking at him, Sam knew those downturned, amber eyes had their attention trained onto him. He could feel them.

“Daniel… have you never kissed a guy before?”

Danny swore that his heart ceased beating inside his chest for a full second. Honestly, he was expecting this question to surface as soon as he, rather dumbly, asked after the feeling of kissing someone of his same gender. He guessed he finally truly understood the meaning of “curiosity killed the cat” as the silence between the two of them stretched on and on as Daniel failed to find his words. And perhaps he hadn’t perished, but it felt as if he was about to the way his heart was erratically fluttering under his ribs.

The drummer spared a glance in Sam’s direction, immediately regretting it as he met Sam’s expectant eyes. He darted his gaze away in record time, swallowing harshly at the way his blood ran cold.

“You and I both know the answer to that, Sam.”

He still couldn’t look at Sam, feeling like he’d much rather be run over with the golf cart they were perched on instead of having this conversation. Because, even though he wanted to know, he knew what this line of questioning implied: that he wanted to know for himself what it was like.

“......That was my first time kissing a guy myself.”

Daniel couldn’t help stealing a glance over at Sam once more. He wasn’t sure why that little tidbit of information was so shocking to him. Of course that was Sam’s first time kissing a man. They lived in rural Michigan where everyone knew everyone’s business; if someone so much as thought a gay thought, the whole goddamn town knew. Even barring that, Daniel knew everything about Sam. It shouldn’t have been a surprise… So why was it?

“Great. Glad you got that experience.” Danny’s tone was clipped to his own ears. He felt his brow knit as he forced his eyes downward, watching the breeze tickle the long blades of grass under his dangling feet. He was certain he was glaring at it so intensely that the poor foliage was about to catch fire.

“Yeah… It was pretty nice…” There was a dreamy, far-off quality to Sam’s voice. It only added fuel to the pyre of Daniel’s jealousy.

The conversation died out there, Daniel just allowing it to fizzle out instead of acting on his impulse to lash out at Sam. He knew this anger was misplaced and was bred from a place of envy, which was an entire can of worms that he didn’t want to open yet.

“Why?”

Daniel didn’t even look over at Sam.

“‘Why’ what?”

“Why do you want to know what kissing a guy is like?”

And there it fucking was. The question that Danny was praying Sam wouldn’t ask. The one that had an unspoken answer that Sammy likely already knew the answer to. So, out of spite and embarrassment, Daniel elected to ignore it. He even elected to ignore the way Sam’s stare was boring into the side of Danny’s head. Daniel even ignored the way his ears started to burn as his antagonism was melting away while his embarrassment increased.

“Danny…?”

Daniel finally broke, the heat of humiliation now scorching his cheeks as well. He locked eyes with his best friend, being greeted with a playful yet knowing smile. It was the most dangerous look that Daniel had ever seen on Sam.

Daniel wasn’t particularly a religious man. But, he was now praying that Sam would find it within himself to spare Daniel and let this moment go.

“Why do you wanna know?” Sam repeated, that wicked grin spreading to his eyes, causing them to sparkle with mischief.

Even if Danny had wanted to answer that, he was fairly certain he was incapable of finding the words to. Because truly, how do you tell the person that you’re in love with for years the truth?

Well, shit. Guess we’re fishing with worms tonight, boys.

After a beat of Danny opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water, Sam was the one to finally speak again. He started off with that stoner giggle of his, which was never a good thing for Danny.

“Well… would you like to know?”

Immediately, panic set in. This was a joke… right? It had to be. No way in hell was Samuel fucking Kiszka, Daniel’s stupid crush of five years, asking Danny what he thought he was. Danny had never been that lucky in his life. Why would he be so fortunate now?

Before he even realized it, Daniel was shaking his head, wide-eyed and frozen like a startled horse. The weed was not helping things, either, only aiding in amplifying his panic. A million thoughts raced through his head like a maelstrom of anxiety; all of them relating to how Daniel had just fucked up his entire life and relationship with Sam with one stupid question.

Sam, seemingly totally oblivious to the soul-crushing dismay Daniel was experiencing, just smiled even wider at Danny. If anything, that mischief in the bassist’s eyes only doubled.

“Well, that’s just too damn bad, Wagner. Because you’re gonna learn today.”

And before Danny could even say anything, let alone process what Sam had said to him, he felt hands intertwining with his curls at the back of his head. Within the blink of an eye, Sam had his lips pressed against Danny’s. Their noses were smushed into one another’s cheeks, Sam using too much force in his haste. Sam’s exhale from his nose was uncomfortably warm, practically scorching against Daniels’ sensitive skin.

Despite all of that, Daniel felt as though he achieved nirvana. Truly, there was nothing in the world that he would trade for this moment. Once he had managed to get over his petrifying panic, Daniel all but melted into the kiss. He wanted so badly to wrap his arms around Sam and pull him tight against him. The urge was so strong that Danny felt his hands lurch forth onto Sam’s waist on their own accord, startling himself and Sam as they both let out a yelp.

That was when the panic set in. Suddenly, Daniel realized what was happening. That he was sitting atop a golf cart with his best friend, kissing one another as if it was something they did all the time. And they were both high as hell. They didn’t know what they were doing.

I should stop this

Daniel, a little reluctantly, attempted to pull away from Sammy. But each time Danny tried, Sam would tighten his grip on his curls and pull him back against his lips.

It was ridiculous. It was sloppy. It was intoxicating. And before long, all of the fight was sapped right out of Daniel’s spirit by the hands of Samuel’s astonishingly soft lips.

Once Sam realized that Daniel was done resisting him, that was when he slowly guided the drummer forward. Danny was so swept up in the disbelief of the moment that he failed to realize what Sam was doing. It wasn’t until he managed to finally break away to catch his breath that Danny noticed that Sam was on his back beneath him.

He wanted to ask “what are we doing” or “how did we get here”, but as Sam gazed up at Daniel with large, pleading eyes, all the words dried up in his throat. He couldn’t help but drink in the sight of Sam, taking in every detail of him and committing it to memory so that he might have a comfort for his darkest hours. His eyes flitted from one detail to the next, taking inventory of all the little things someone less in love might call “frivolous”. But to Daniel, he was nothing but a mere unworthy devotee luckily blessed with the opportunity to worship something so precious as the pink of his lips, or the flutter of his lashes.

Daniel was caught staring for too long, watching as Sam’s eyebrows drew upwards in confusion.

“What? Why are you staring at me like that?”

You’re gorgeous you’re wonderful you’re amazing you’re stunning you’re perfect I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I-

“Nothing,” Danny laughed off, “no reason at all.”

Sam joined in on Danny’s giggling, that brilliant smile spreading across his lips as the sweet melody of his laugh danced through Danny’s ears. Daniel couldn’t help it. He just leaned down and captured Sam’s lips with his own again.

There weren’t any fireworks or any crazy light show that went off as they kissed. It just felt… right. As if they were always meant to be doing this; like how it feels when you drink water when you didn’t even realize you were thirsty. And as they continued, the kiss gradually escalating, Daniel couldn’t help but picture them doing this all the time; whenever they wanted to.

Daniel did have to put a stop to their escapade when he felt the bassist’s deft fingers attempt to slip beneath his waistband, snapping him out of the fog that had clouded his mind.

“Woah, baby, slow down,” the drummer rushed, huffing in air as he tried to catch his breath.

Sam just responded with a pout on his kiss-swollen lips and a pleading look in his eyes. Danny couldn’t help but laugh a bit at the absurdity of it.

“Sam, we’re in a public space on top of a golf cart. We can’t be doing that.”

“But I want to,” Sam whined, cocking his head as he spoke. He even went so far as batting his lashes at the drummer.

Heaving a huge sigh, Daniel knew at that moment that no matter what, he truly would never be able to say no to Sam. He glanced around at the surrounding area darkened by the lack of sun, smiling at himself as he watched a firefly blink its light right next to his head.

“Tell you what,” Danny leaned back from his position of caging Sam in with his arms, extending a hand to Sam to help him upright, “how’s about we head back and try and find a more private place.”

Sam’s pout was replaced by a slow-growing sly grin. With a nod of his head, he leaned in close to Danny’s ear to whisper “I’d love that.”

Daniel returned his grin, fighting off a shiver as Sammy’s warm breath ghosted across his neck. But beneath the warm excitement buzzing in Danny’s veins was a nagging feeling that he just couldn’t ignore.

“But, I feel like there was somewhere else we were supposed to be tonight…”

As Daniel trailed off, they both heard the roar of thousands of festival goers as the strum of a power chord sailed across the expanse of miles. Suddenly, the pair of them tensed in place as they were reminded of their previous obligation.

“Oh my GOD. We have to be on stage,” Sam yelled as panic took hold of them both.

They scrambled off the roof of the golf cart, breaking down into a fit of giggles as they glanced at one another. When their eyes met, there was an unspoken agreement that they would pick up where they left off as soon as they could. And while Daniel floored the accelerator, Sam nestled himself against his best friend’s side while Danny wrapped his arm around him.

They would figure this out, and they would be incredible together. But first, they had to be rockstars.

+++

Tag list:

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#greta van fleet #greta van fic #danny wagner #sam kiszka #daniel robert wagner #samuel francis kiszka #sammy kiszka / daniel wagner #danny gvf #sammy gvf #jake kiszka #josh kiszka #josh gvf #jake gvf #sanny gvf

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naturalrights-retard · 2 months

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https://stateofthenation.co/?p=219798

OPERATION BRIDGE TAKEDOWN: The Carefully Controlled Demolition Of The Very Important Baltimore Bridge—WHO & WHY?

Posted on March 27, 2024 by State of the Nation

First take a close look at this video: HARD PROOF! Video of explosives being detonated at key points to take down the Francis Scott Key Bridge! (Video) The hard evidence is now pouring in (such as the preceding video) which conclusively proves that the staged Baltimore Bridge collapse after the cargo ship hit was a deliberate sabotage carried out by all the usual suspects.

At least six workers are now missing and presumed dead so this was not only a terrorist attack directed at vital US infrastructure, but also designed to mass murder the American people.

Now listen to this video report covering the various angles on this NWO terror operation carried out to further “disrupt supply chains and cause port congestion and chaos in America!”

The raw and radioactive TRUTH about this Baltimore bridge terrorist attack! (Video) Great Reset Clearly, the New World Order globalist cabal is extremely desperate to sow the seeds of chaos, confusion and conflict throughout every sphere of American society. For only with a sufficient level of Ordo ab Chao will the cabal be able to fully implement their long-planned Great Reset.

Toward that end, not only do they intend to considerably shrink the nation’s food supply, but also to throw a wrench into every mode of transport which impacts trade and travel. This major port in Baltimore is just the type of rich target they would attack, despite it being such an obvious terror operation. The NWO perps simply don’t care anymore if we witness their odious crimes in real time. As follows:

EXTREMELY SUSPICIOUS! Maryland Police Were Pre-Alerted to Divert Traffic One Minute Before Francis Scott Key Bridge Collapse (DISPATCH AUDIO) There is also this rather ridiculous clue that the cargo shop crew was up to no good from the beginning of their crash into the bridge.

THE CRIMINAL CONSPIRACY UNFOLDS! Captain and Crew of DALI Cargo Ship Were Taken to Walmart Before Ship Crashed into Key Bridge You have to believe that The Powers That Be have never been so brazen, reckless and desperate to bring about the collapse of the USA when they perpetrate one black swan event after another like this one.

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notmyneighbor · 2 months

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Let Me In ~ Doppelgänger Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Female Reader

Chapter 9

Word Count ~ 5.5k

Rating ~ Explicit

CW ~ doppelgänger sex, body horror

Also available on AO3

Fanart used with permission @kaworinx on Instagram and TikTok

taglist ~ @luthien-elvenia-asher @fishfetus @gaudesstuff @nekee-lilac02 @msdevil333 @rrnrjn @maskedpacific @yoongiwantsme @that-0ne-simp @kaislashes @charli33-b33 @finalitgirl

Francis Mosses’ route is almost done for the day.

He normally started with the farthest destinations first and then worked his way backwards, finishing close to his home in the DDD sanctioned apartments.

But there had been a last minute add on, sending him back out again, further from the city and into the suburbs. He’s tired, as always, the early start to each shift, the thin walls of the building that do nothing to suppress the activities of his neighbors taking their toll. He rubs at the drowsy lids that keep insisting on shutting. Almost finished. Just this last one. Humming to keep awake. He should stop on the way home, pick up something for dinner. But that would mean delaying his return. Did he have the energy to even cook?

He’s thinking about you, the pretty young woman that guards the entrance now. The best part of his day. He should get you flowers. Say something, anything, instead of just polite formalities. Maybe today would be the day he found enough courage to express his feelings.

A little more alert now. His eyes flick to the paper on his clipboard. Yes, nearly there. He’s not familiar with this road. The houses are not as well kept. Some even look abandoned. Overgrown lawns. Broken windows. A tendril of misgiving curling around him. Something felt wrong. Maybe he should just say he couldn’t find the address. Offer up this part of the route to someone else working for the company.

But what if the person really needed it? It wasn’t fair to discriminate, was it? That sense of duty keeps his right foot pressed on the pedal. He’s going to finish the job.

He’s reached his destination. It’s difficult to see the numbers, half hidden by the weeds threatening to overtake the mailbox. At least the window panes are intact in this dwelling. Curtains cover the interior completely. The entire home is encased in shadow, darkness that seems to sap the sunlight from above.

The milkman shuts off the engine, easing out of his seat. He’s a little stiff from the long drive, the lateness of his shift. He touches one ear to a shoulder, repeating the process for the opposite side. A satisfying series of cracks. The rear compartment slides open and he lifts the wire rack from storage. The sun is strong against his back, a little perspiration making the white material of his workshirt cling to his skin. He’s suddenly craving something cold to drink. Maybe he should just invite you out. There would be enough time before curfew. Sodas at the local diner. He imagines you blushing that pretty pink shade, your hand covering your mouth. Shyly accepting his proposal.

Francis isn’t really paying attention to the cement walkway he’s traveling on that leads to the front door, ignoring the crab grass poking through the seams of each concrete slab. He doesn’t spare a glance for the peeling paint of the clapboards, the tarnish of the metal doorbell. The door creaks open and he’s got a smile on his face, his customary greeting for customers combined with thoughts of you. Just a heartbeat shy of reacting in time to who—what— waits for him in that dim interior, the hand reaching for the handle of the basket changing course at the last moment, latching onto his wrist and dragging him inside, the basket falling from his fingers, the glass shattering, spilling dairy product over the entryway.

He’s pulled off balance, thrust to one side, barely managing to keep his head from cracking against the wooden floor. Subflooring, not even a proper finished layer. No furniture inside. The home was stripped bare, except for the heavy drapes over the windows, the last illumination from outdoors disappearing from view as the door slams shut. The air is stale, musty. He feels the dust beneath his fingertips. No one has been inside here for a long time.

He’s barely started to struggle to his feet before the creature is upon him. Doppelgänger, he thinks with panic. It has to be. Hands pin his wrists down to either side of his face, his body shoved down beneath the heavy weight of the invader.

It’s not the first time he’s encountered one directly.

Once, when he was younger, he’d gotten separated from his mother at the supermarket. Not paying attention, distracted by the array of goods on the shelves, lost in whatever daydream had overtaken him, until he’d felt the hand on his wrist, the hand that didn’t belong to his parent or a concerned employee or fellow customer, but a doppel. The feeling of claws digging in. Seeking to break the skin, to draw out some blood, just the smallest amount needed to copy his appearance. The pain before an off duty DDD member had thankfully intervened had been sharp, hot, an intensity he’s still never forgotten years later.

This was not that feeling. This is like being submerged into a warm bath, but the water was sticky, cloying. It hurt, but there was something pleasurable about it as well. A kind of numbing tranquility. Pressing against becoming pressing into.

Hold still.

The command said aloud, or in the depths of his mind, he can no longer tell. One last burst of adrenaline making him struggle. The quick, disdainful flick of a claw, the alien’s true appendage, dragging across his skin. He feels the flecks of blood spattering near his collar, hears the wet collisions with the starched fabric.

“God help me…”

The only part of a plea or prayer he can muster. There was no escaping this. He can feel the thing burrowing inside of him. How was it even possible? The doppels only cloned or consumed humans. This merging was something new.

He can feel it digging around in his brain. Sifting through his thoughts.

A DDD establishment resident? Challenging.

Your face. He focuses on it in his mind, recreating each detail of every feature. The scent of you. Summer flowers.

Who’s this?

Don’t hurt her. Don’t you dare—

The numbness has worn off. It is no longer a soothing feeling. He is burning from the inside.

I won’t let you harm anyone. If you’re going to be me, then be me. You’re not going to hurt anyone ever again.

Let me in. Let me in, stop resisting.

Forgive me.

What’s happening? Changing me, I’m not…

Not one or the other. Combining.

Something new.

***

“Francis, wake up.” The doppel’s eyes fly open. A moment of disorientation and panic visible on his features until his eyes find yours in the wan morning light spilling in through the farmhouse window. “I think you were having a nightmare.”

Your hand rests against his bare chest, feeling the pounding of his heart. What would an invader dream about that would make them so afraid? Being discovered? Destroyed?

He reaches a hand to touch your cheek. “Sweetheart.”

“I’m here, love. It’s okay. You’re okay.” You kiss the corner of his mouth. He turns his face slightly and captures your lips again. Hungry. Nipping at your bottom lip. He’s turning, rolling you beneath him.

“My love. Mine.” Tasting your neck. His palm warm and heavy as it dips beneath the scooped neckline of your nightgown. He rolls your nipples between his thumb and index finger, tugging lightly, bringing them into stiff peaks. You squirm, writhing beneath his touch, the mouth of your sex watering for him. Always so ravenous. You can never get enough.

You’re not wearing panties. It’s easy for a pair of fingers to slide right into that warm, wet tunnel. Your breath hisses. He steals the next one, his mouth covering yours. Your fingers wrap around his forearm as he begins sliding the probing digits in and out.

“I want to devour you.”

“Yes, Francis, please…”

“Eat you and then fuck you,” the copycat’s voice continues low beside your ear. “You’re mine.” A growl. His tone coarser. A little more of the doppel side of him showing. Possessive. Aggressive. Acting in retaliation to something in the dream he’d felt threatened by.

“I’m yours.” Your pelvis rocks up against his hand. “It’s you that I love, that my heart belongs to.”

“What’s inside…”

“Yes, what’s inside.”

“Mine forever.”

“Forever.”

He moans against your neck. A broken, human sound. Lips trembling. Pressed gently in a line down your body, the fingers still thrusting in and out, tongue darting out to taste between the petals of your flesh, nose digging into your mound as he grinds his mouth against your clit, sucking. Your hand is now buried in his hair, your eyes watching the way the rising sun filters through the lace curtains, dappled light and shadows painting your torso, lighting threads of gold and chocolate in his hair, on the fine hairs that cover his forearms. A haze blooms around him, a shining halo, a precursor to the pink tinged eyelids, the exploring fingers now withdrawn, claws just peeking out, hinting at what lies beneath, his tongue replacing that vacancy, no longer the short one belonging to the man whose body he inhabits but something serpentine teasing inside, unfurling, squirming, reaching deep, fangs teasing the pink flesh outside, the reddened invader’s eyes asking, begging for permission.

You’re terrified, exhilarated, he’s never been there before, not when he’s like this, he’d been so careful to not let the beast out and you haven’t pushed him, it’s only been a week but it feels like so much longer and you want it, gasping an affirmation, fingers tightening in his tresses. The sensation of being so thoroughly tasted, explored, consumed as the intruder’s teeth sink, pierce, lost in that pad of fat above the start of your sex, his tongue buried inside while he sucks, drawing your bundle of nerves taut against the roof of his mouth drives you right over the precipice, the back of your skull digging into the pillows as you keen, whine, whimper, he drags every desperate sound of pleasure he can from you until you can no longer stand it, overly sensitive, overwhelmed, quaking as you see the rising face of Francis Mosses, no longer giving way to the monster inside.

His next kisses on your mouth are gentle, allowing you to recover, stroking your shoulder, carding through your hair.

“Where did you go,” you murmur, suddenly feeling languid, relaxed, your extremities tingling pleasantly in your post orgasmic state.

“You’re not afraid at all?”

“A little. But I trust you. I know you’d never hurt me.”

“It’s difficult to stop it.”

“So don’t,” you challenge.

“Oh, love, we’ve talked about this. I can’t…”

“Kiss me with that mouth. Your real one…”

“You want that?”

“I want you. I love you.”

“Sweetheart…” His tongue spears your mouth. Still human, still holding back.

You reach down, caressing his hardened cock. “What were you dreaming about? Tell me, I’ll chase them away. Won’t let anyone hurt you…”

“Hnggh…” He moans, his breath quickening. His body shifts, his erection nudging your entrance, your splayed legs tightening around him as he penetrates you, his mouth close to yours. “I was dreaming about the past. The day it happened, when I took Francis. He changed me when I went inside him. Weak body but strong mind. Faith. His feelings for you. I was terrified of being lost in that union. Sharing, merging…unmaking and rebuilding my identity. The way that feels, coming apart like that…”

You gasp and he settles his hips against yours, resting his weight there for a moment, buried inside of you. “He made me want to be him. I couldn’t resist. I’d never wanted anything so badly. Until I met you. The want I have for you, love. The sheer ache of it. I would do anything for you. Risk anything, give anything. You have become my entire world, my universe. The thought of losing you, because of a momentary slip of the reins, because of something I’ve done…I can’t bear it.”

You swallow past the lump forming in your throat. You’d asked him about Francis’ end so many times, halting after he’d stated it would be the end of your reason for he, the doppelgänger, to be with you. But that wasn’t true anymore, was it? Because you’d fallen in love with him. And you felt the same way. You’d risk anything, give anything to be with him. And now you know the truth of it. Why this doppelgänger was so different from the others. Different, because the human whose body he’d taken had irrevocably changed him. Altering his goals, his desires. Tempering the craving for annhilation. Seeking a more peaceful integration. A life with you. The milkman’s final gift.

“I know why you’re scared. I won’t try to push you. I just love you so, so much. I want you to know that.”

“Sweet girl,” he sighs. He’s blocking most of the sunlight now, his face looming above yours. “Just a little. I’ll try…”

You nod. “Let me feel you, love.”

His hips lift. Creeping out of you inch by inch. His eyes changing again. Jaw shifting, mouth evolving. A ripple across the surface of his stretched lips. Teeth parting. He’s entering you again, his cock mirroring the violation of the alien tongue now probing yours. Still gentle, cautious. Your flavor there. Closing your lips over this new shape and texture. Still muscular, smoother, thicker until it tapers at the end, coiling around yours.

Your body is on fire, your earlier release already forgotten as you roll your hips against his. A rough groan. The hand cupping the side of your waist tightens, thumb digging into your flesh. Every time his body collides with yours, the pressure against the bite he’s inflicting sends waves of pleasure through you, your swollen cunt throbbing around his prick.

You’re whining again, a needy, pitiful sound hummed around that foreign tongue invading your mouth, curling and stroking, sharp teeth dripping saliva down onto your lips, sliding over your chin and down your neck.

Then it is Francis’ mouth hovering over yours again, his soft brown eyes gazing into yours as he sheaths and withdraws over and over, a little crooked grin of triumph, pleased he’s done it, he’s maintained control.

“My bride to be, my future wife…” The words becoming temporarily incomprehensible, his face burrowing against your neck. “Forever…eternal…I am yours…” He’s looking into your eyes as he cums, filling you with hot spurts of seed, everything in that gaze begging, pleading, that this will be the time, the future he wants to conceive inside of you coming to fruition at last.

***

You’re watching Francis Mosses’ doppelgänger in the mirror.

Hair tidy, side parted, slicked into place. Dressed in a button front shirt and slacks. Freshly shaved. You love watching him get ready. The care and attention he gives the process. Wanting everything to be proper. Perfect.

“I believe I’m ready. What do you think?” He turns to face you.

“Very dapper. I’m sure everyone will be very envious when they see you leading me inside the theater.”

“I think it will be more the other way around. Beautiful,” he murmurs, admiring your dress, your lips and nails painted to match, a deep, dark shade of red. “And what is underneath this loveliness, I wonder?” His fingers tuck beneath the neckline of your dress, trying to sneak a peak at your lingerie.

“If you start that, we’re never going to make it out the door.”

“Would that really be so terrible?”

“After, Francis,” you reprimand gently. You’re not used to rejecting him. But you think it will be good for both of you to get outside, have a date together. You want him to enjoy every element of the human experience. So much of what he knows is based on war, on violence. Sometimes you yourself get so caught up in your work you forget what it is you’re struggling so hard to protect. Not just lives, but the quality of those lives. You want the best for those residents you guard.

You want the best for your fiancé, too.

***

You’re screened at the entrance of the theater.

It’s nowhere near the level of scrutiny you provide working for the DDD; the likelihood of doppels wanting to infiltrate an old movie house was very unlikely. The bored looking attendant barely glances at your ID’s before waving you through.

“That man is terrible at his job,” your beau murmurs as you enter the theater, heading towards a pair of seats near the back row. There aren’t many people present; perhaps lured by the nice weather outdoors. Enjoying a lazy Sunday afternoon. “Maybe we should have started the invasion here.”

“Francis!” He’s not speaking loudly, but you look around hurriedly. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”

“I’m only teasing, love.” He wraps an arm around you, pressing a kiss against your temple. “No one’s listening, anyway. I’m sorry. It was in poor taste,” he apologizes, seeing your persistent scowl. “Forgive me?”

You tuck your dress beneath you before taking your seat. “I’m not cross with you, I’m just worried.” You didn’t want to draw any attention. As much as you like being out in public like this with the invader, you had to keep reminding yourself that you’re still at war. He’s still seen as the enemy, and no amount of declarations of affection for you would ever convince the DDD of his innocence. It was dangerous for both of you.

“Stop worrying. You’re meant to be having fun. Relax and enjoy this,” he whispers beside your ear. “No one knows. We’re okay.”

You try to comply, willing your furrowed brow to straighten. This had been your idea, after all. He was right. No one was paying any attention to you. Everyone present was seated in front of you, all facing the curtain shrouded film screen. Your doppel’s arm curls around your shoulders and you let yourself melt against him, the tension easing. Trying to recapture some of that feeling you have when you’re together at the farmhouse, away from the city, away from prying eyes. Your own little safe haven.

At last the heavy drapes shift aside, revealing the screen beneath. The sound of murmured conversation is extinguished, the only noise the occasional rattle of a straw in a cup, fingers digging into a box of candy or bag of popcorn. You have some chocolate in your purse. You withdraw it now, thumb dragging along the paper wrapper, trying to be quiet as the film begins.

The Warner Brothers logo appears. Then there is a map overlaid with the opening credits before the focus shifts to a rotating globe. You glance at your companion. His eyes are fixed on the screen. There was the invader’s original goal, so tantalizingly out of reach, that objective shifting to a very normal life with you, pretending to be human.

You squirm a little restlessly in your seat. The copycat’s thumb strokes your shoulder. “Easy, love. It’s okay.” His breath hot by your ear. “I love you.”

The words instantly soothe you. You manage to tear the foil and extract a piece of chocolate, already starting to melt. It was warm inside the theater. You offer it to your companion, watching his features as he takes the rectangular sweet between his teeth, breaking off a section and chewing, considering. “Good. Not as good as the jam. Not as good as you, but nothing is,” he whispers, mouth pressed close to your ear again. He accepts the remainder and his tongue darts out to taste your fingers, reminding you of the previous morning, when he’d invaded you with his real one, your pussy and your mouth teased with it, the familiar warm pulse between your legs asking for more.

You struggle to return your attention to the screen, absently slotting the next piece of candy into your own mouth.

It’s different watching the film again now that you’re older, in a serious relationship. The sheer ache of the tragedy of it all. The woman thinking her husband was dead, killed trying to escape a concentration camp. Falling in love with another man. Leaving abruptly to nurse her spouse back to health after learning he’d survived. The bitter conflict of the backdrop of the world war. Meeting again. Forced to choose between both men she loved. The nightclub owner insisting she leave, promising she’d regret it if she didn’t, a famous line of dialogue that was so often quoted.

It’s impossible not to see some parallels with your own romance. Choosing between Francis and the doppelgänger. A war that encompassed the world, this one not with other nations within that globe but alien invaders. What was the greater sin, betraying your heart or betraying the human race?

You’re quiet as you leave the theater, squinting against the dazzling sun outside. Francis’ doppel offers to drive your car and you let him, staring out the passenger window, watching the brick and mortar surrender to the trees and fields you’ve been missing already.

“This melancholy concerns me.”

You turn to find the milkman’s copy staring at you, eyes darting occasionally to check the road ahead. Empty, as it so often was.

“I’m sorry. I meant to ask if you enjoyed the film.”

“I enjoyed being with you. I always do.” He focuses once more on the path, steering around a deep dip in the ground. “That’s the hole the truck struggled with,” he murmurs. You’re so accustomed to it your body runs on autopilot, maneuvering around it without even thinking. “You’re worried about us being discovered.”

You chew on your bottom lip, silently cursing yourself. “I didn’t want to ruin the experience for you.”

“You didn’t, love.” One hand leaves the steering wheel to cup your cheek.

“I don’t want to get caught. It would kill me to lose you. Absolutely destroy me. I can’t, Francis. I can’t lose you twice.”

You’re jostled as the car abruptly leaves the road, pulling into one of the fields near your house. The doppel hurriedly shifts the gears into park, cutting the engine with a rough turn of the key. He turns to you, one arm resting on the back of the bench seating. “Listen to me. You’re not going to lose me. I’m not going to let anything happen to either of us.”

“You don’t know that, though. Sooner or later someone is bound to find out.”

“Leave the DDD.”

“Francis, we’ve talked about this.”

“Leave the DDD and move in with me. Here. At the farm. Or wherever you want. Just get away from all this.”

“Francis…”

“Be with me. Please, love.” His fingers curl around the side of your neck, his lips brushing yours. “I couldn’t do it. I could never give you up like Rick did with Ilsa in the movie. You’d be safer without me, but how could I ever want that, how…”

“I love you. I’d never leave you. Never.” You kiss him, your mouth rough against his. His tongue strokes yours and the heat you’d experienced in your core earlier returns. Your fingers break through the carefully coiffed stiff strands of hair, returning them to their natural, untidy form. His fingers work on the buttons of your dress, his mouth now laving at that exposed patch of skin below your throat.

You’re so close to home, but it’s impossible to wait just those few more minutes, exiting the car, allowing your body to be pressed down into the fragrant grass. He strokes up your thigh, nudging aside the fabric draped over you, a little hum of appreciation escaping when he feels the new satin that covers you.

You’ve never owned so many pairs of lingerie, so different from the standard fare you’d worn before. You like the feel of it clinging to those intimate places, like the reaction of the doppel every time he reveals them, like unwrapping a gift, fingers shifting each piece, palming your breasts, your sex. He makes love to you under that open blue sky, in that clear air that’s just starting to turn a little cooler as the afternoon bows to evening.

Back at the house, you’re assisted in preparing dinner, steak and baked potatoes and green beans while Perry Como croons in the background.

Till the end of time

Long as stars are in the blue

Long as there's a spring, a bird to sing

I'll go on loving you

“Move in with me,” the pretender says again, drying his hands on a dish towel, then slotting his hands on your waist after you’ve finished sliding the potatoes into the oven. “I want this every night.”

Till the end of time

Long as roses bloom in May

My love for you will grow deeper

With every passing day

“After you meet my parents. Then we’ll move in together. One more week.”

Till the wells run dry

And each mountain disappears

I'll be there for you, to care for you

Through laughter and through tears

The smell of the meat sizzling in the fry pan on the stove makes your stomach growl. You’re starving. Always so ravenous, now. Working up such an appetite.

“Dance with me after dinner.”

“Yes.”

So take my heart in sweet surrender

And tenderly say that I'm

The one you love and live for

Till the end of time

After dinner, in his arms as promised, he steers you in a neat circle.

“I had a wonderful weekend with you.”

“It’s not over yet.” He kisses your neck, his hands sliding over your abdomen. “I hope…”

“I know. We’ll keep trying, love.” You want to give him a child. That fear still there. Discovery. You were never as devout as Francis had been. Would it be blasphemous to pray? To ask for help, protection, mercy for a creature that was so reviled?

He switches off the record player and the final lamp in the living room. There is now nothing but moonlight to guide you.

He settles onto the couch. You sit beside him. The ticking of the grandfather clock is loud in the sudden stillness. Your mouths collide. A different kind of hunger afflicting you now.

“You’re still hiding from me,” you chide gently, sliding a hand over one thigh, moving to the front of the fly of his pants, where the bulge fits neatly into the curve of your palm and fingers.

“About that,” he murmurs. “Partly it’s for fear of losing control.”

“You won’t,” you reassure him, sucking at his bottom lip.

“Partly because I wanted to fill you with human seed. Our best chance to make a baby.”

“And the other part?” You prompt, sensing there is still something left unsaid.

“I’m not sure if you’d like it.”

“You mean find it appealing?”

“Yes,” he admits reluctantly.

“I love every part of you.” Your hand squeezes and he sucks in his breath sharply.

“You really do, don’t you?” This said with a kind of wonder and disbelief.

“Is it really so strange? You find me attractive, and I obviously don’t look like your kind.”

“You are beyond attractive. You are gorgeous. The softness of you. That texture. The flavor…” He kisses your jaw. “I can never get enough.”

“So you can relate to that feeling of being addicted.” You’ve slowly begun to unfasten his belt, now working on the button and zipper.

“I wonder how much of that isn’t a result of the bites.”

“I think that contributes to it.”

“I didn’t know they’d have that effect.”

“It’s all new. Uncharted territory, didn’t you call it?”

He hums in agreement, the sound changing to a moan when your fingers dip beneath his briefs. “I’m tempted.”

“Do it.”

“What if you don’t like it? It would ruin things…”

“No. I want it feel it. In my hand. In my mouth. Inside of me.” He shudders against you. “I love you, my doppelgänger.”

A growl. The leash slipping. He nips at your ear lobe. “Sweetheart, if that’s what you really want, I’ll give it to you. It’s all for you…”

Heat against your hand, not the customary warmth of that reproductive organ but something else, a scalding kind of sensation. The flesh morphing, rearranging beneath your fingertips. Growing slicker. Reminiscent of his true tongue, the structure thicker at the base, narrowing at the end. Root, tentacle, something else, no word for that pulsing member you hold in the near darkness.

He’s sweating with the effort of restraining himself, tasted every time your mouth touches his, salted kisses accompanied by your hand cautiously sliding along the length, exploring, forced to stretch your arm as you caress the alien’s cock, finding the head at last not so unlike the human one, ending in a kind of domed, mushroom shaped tip. Fat, thick, it would definitely stretch you. The thought of it makes you shiver, your body drooling arousal.

“Does it feel good? I don’t know if I’m doing it right…”

“It is…” He says a word you don’t recognize, something in his native tongue. You can’t replicate it. “That’s why I didn’t tell you my name. You could never say it. Even what I just uttered isn’t quite…fuck. Right there. Oh sweet girl, you’re always so perfect for me. Sit on it, sweetheart. Let me fuck you.”

Your heart is pounding as you stand long enough to pull your dress off overhead and remove your panties, climbing over the doppel’s thighs, that foreign prick tapping impatiently against your bare stomach. His hands clutch your buttocks as you raise yourself, guiding his dick into position. Your breath saws in and out roughly. Almost panicked. But so aroused. It’s too late to stop now. You’d asked for this. You asked for this and now…oh. Inside of you. A burning stretch, like having your maidenhood taken again for the first time. A whimper escapes you. Somewhere between pleasure and pain. Blurring from one to the other. Filling you. So warm inside. You can’t possibly fit all of it in there. A sob of frustration.

“My love,” he croons soothingly. “Our bodies weren’t meant to fit together, the anatomy, you can’t…”

“I want all of it,” you say stubbornly, disappointed. Feeling like you’ve failed him somehow.

“Look at how well you’ve done, sweet girl, letting me inside…” His hand strokes over your abdomen and you mirror his movements, feeling the bulge there. “Fuck me, sweetheart. I want to make you feel good.”

Your hands grasp his shoulders as you lift yourself up, supported by his hands, some supernatural strength from the invader providing assistance. Back down again. Up and down. A rhythm building. You’re getting used to it, slowly but surely. That tender ache within you starting to evolve into something else. A coil of pleasure knots your insides.

“Tell me your name. Even if I can’t say it…to hear it…” A foreign word. “No. From your tongue. That mouth…”

“Risky, love. Can’t…” The hands holding you are shaking. “Even this is…”

“What…what is it? Tell me.” You’re properly riding his cock now, grinding yourself down as far as you’re able.

“It’s dangerous. The desire to be let out…tear free…love, it’s…I can’t stop it…”

The coil inside of you snaps, your orgasm ripping through you. There is something else, something searing hot spilling into you, the stream of it running out as he lifts your body clear of his, then cradles you against him.

“You didn’t warn me,” you chide softly when you’ve recovered, your fingers gliding curiously across the trail of slick cum streaking your thighs. “There’s so much of it.”

“Wanted it to be a surprise.”

You slap his arm playfully, then rest your forehead against his. “I told you you’d be okay.”

“Are you sore?”

“A little. It’s okay.”

“I don’t like hurting you.”

“I wanted it. I don’t regret it. I’d like to do it again sometime.”

“My love, what am I going to do with you?” He says in mock exasperation.

“Hopefully marry me.”

“Oh, that’s definitely happening. Speaking of which. We need to plan that out. The details of where and when.” He makes a little disgruntled sound. “Can we go take a bath? This is getting rather…unpleasant.”

You can’t disagree, the feeling of being so damp and sticky, the decreasing temperature and congealing nature of the ejaculate getting more and more uncomfortable to be lingering in. “Yes. Let’s go upstairs. We can plan things out while we wash up. Then it’s bed time. We both have work in the morning.”

“I love you,” he says softly. “I’m so grateful you love me. The real me. I like being called your doppelgänger,” he adds, stealing a quick kiss before you scoot off his lap, allowing him to stand. You manage to find your discarded clothing.

“Well, it’s the truth. You are mine.”

He hastily buttons the front of his pants to keep them from sliding down as he rises, reaching out to take your hand, leading you to the foot of the staircase.

“Do you have a last name?”

The doppel chuckles. “Get upstairs, you.”

“I think I’m entitled to know, seeing as how I’m going to be your wife.”

“I’ll tell you my real name. Soon.”

Another kiss in the dark, the promise of a shared secret.

#francis mosses #thats not my neighbor #francis mosses x reader #francis mosses x you #milkman #milkman x reader #milkman x you #the milkman #doppelganger #that’s not my neighbor

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