Hey! The name's Mitch, and you've reached my sussy adult blog. This is for my written smut works as well as reblogs of other smut works that I love reading. I currently have a pretty small output in this blog but I have more smut in the works that I will post here.
If you're not comfortable seeing 18+ content in this blog, please leave. Otherwise, enjoy your stay! Here's the masterlist below the cut, with both my works and reblogged ones (with respective credits to the authors)!
oneshots.
note: this makes me realize I should've written more smut here lmaooo
-- karl jacobs --
cuffed on the ropes
-- foolish --
untitled piece
— inspired by a post from slvtofthemonth
-- jschlatt --
freshly baked cookies
— this isn't that nsfw but oh well; inspired by a post from halo-u
untitled piece (inexperienced schlatt)
— inspired by a post from halo-u
-- nutember pieces (dsmp) --
day 1: morning sex | karl x reader
day 2: glove kink | punz x reader
day 3: choking | karlnap
day 4: watersports | dreamnotfound
day 5: somnophilia | dreamnotfound
day 6: whipping | sam x reader
day 7: threesome | sam x reader x punz
day 8: knife play | karlnap
day 9: dry humping | sam x reader
reblogged works.
-- francis mosses --
milking the milkman | missouki
something that never existed | spicyspiders
choke on it | midnightsky-1
untitled (was bored on the plane and wrote it) | mikomikumi
that's not my milkman | lazi4ss
let me in | notmyneighbor
— reblogged chapter 3 of this fic; visit author's blog to read the rest of the chapters
how wonderful life is while you're in this world | conelluwrites
oh, mr mosses (series) | trulyumai
молоко | shockedemojiatsv
save the cow, milk the milkman | eternityofend
stress relief (not really) | toutallyahoe
milk and water - pt. i and pt. ii | ciaoteamo
-- joel miller --
starin' problem | strawhbrrries
teacher's pet | javiscigarette
-- könig --
projekt amor | aeth-supremacy
hate sex with könig | antigonusyuki
-- mike schmidt --
movement | strawhbrrries
headcanons fnaf smut version | yanderestarangel
-- awesamdude --
if you like my face | doozers-afterhours
-- jschlatt --
gun kink schlatt hc | princessnivison
-- ted nivison --
ask by pray4saint sent to nvmadic
— verbatim: 'i saw an instagram reel about this and IM REELING THINKING ABOUT IT WITH BEST FRIEND TED.'
Listen to me: You get good at things by being bad at them. You learn by failing. You gain competency and a sense of mastery by failing at something many times and in many interesting ways.
The sooner you are able to laugh at your own failures, to enjoy the process of messing up, the easier life will be. Because you'll no longer be afraid of learning.
And once you're no longer afraid of failing, you can learn anything.
And that's the thing of it, isn't it? Failing and accepting a failure is itself a skill.
And it can be very hard to learn, especially if you come from a family where a failure is a sign that you are a failure instead of a sign that you are learning.
You're going to fail at failing well. There are going to be times when it hurts, times when your brain is telling you that you should just give up and you'll never get it. Times when a failure is going to frustrate you to no end.
And you can still learn to fail well. You can learn to see it as a sign that you're learning, you can learn to give a little chuckle and say to yourself, well, everyone screws up sometimes, I'm just learning.
Special Delivery - Doppelganger Francis Mosses x Female Reader
Word Count - 3.3k
Rating - Explicit
CW - masturbation, oral sex
Also available on AO3
You’re being followed.
You’re out later than you’d intended, but there had been a lot of requests that day. Word was spreading. You were getting quite the reputation among the doppelgängers.
Imagine, a human who was betraying her own kind, making forged documents to help the invaders into DDD restricted areas.
You don’t even feel guilty about it, either, because what has any human ever done for you? You’ve been on your own since as far back as you can remember, dealt a bad hand early in life. This scheme you’ve concocted pays well. Better than any of the other less savory things you’ve had to do to supplement your income, and it came with an added bonus: you knew how to write in the alien’s language as well, the symbols you inscribe on the frame of your apartment door and workspaces guaranteeing you’ll be exempt from harm.
Maybe you could’ve done something with your artistic and linguist skills if you’d had the opportunity, but alas, this was your lot in life. Making the best of a less than ideal situation.
You deviate your course a few times, just to make certain you’re still being pursued. Yes, he’s still trailing you. You’re certain it’s male but you’re not pausing long enough to discern more than that. Well, fuck.
You take another detour. Perhaps not the best decision in hindsight. You’re further away from home now. You don’t recognize the street you’re on. There’s a delivery truck parked on the side of the road. Dairy. Should you try to hide inside? The door was open. Where was the driver? You consider your options. No one would admit you into their house at this hour, and why should they, when you’ve been selling out all your neighbors? The truck, then. Your stalker’s footsteps still sounded a fair distance away. It was your only chance at this point. Maybe you could find something to mark the symbols. If there was still time.
The step to enter the truck is high. You have to ungraciously hoist yourself inside, clinging desperately to the sides to balance your weight. Made it. Your nose wrinkles. There’s a faintly sour smell. Spoiled products. The keys are in the ignition. A feeling of foreboding washes over you. The street lamp nearby barely illuminates the interior of the vehicle. You’re afraid to go into the back. You can’t see anything you can use to write the protection phrase. Your breath saws in and out. Too loud. You’re making too much noise.
A foot on the steel step makes you whirl around. It’s your pursuer. Dressed as a milkman, but you know instantly it’s not. Replicant. Deceiver. The clone of whatever human he’s copying. He’d chosen a handsome one, though you doubt it had anything to do with appearances, more a matter of convenience. Broad shouldered. Narrow waisted. He lifts himself into the truck with practiced ease. You’re so fucked.
Dark eyes and hair. Pale skin. He blocks the light from outside as he crowds you further inside. Well, you couldn’t say you’d had a good run, but you’d done your best. You close your eyes. You don’t want to see the teeth emerge before he devours you.
“What are you doing in here?”
Your eyes fly open again. He hasn’t advanced any further. He wanted to talk? Play with his food before he ate it? Maybe he wasn’t hungry. Mabe you could talk your way out of this.
“I…I got lost on the way home.”
“You’re lying.” No malice behind those words, just an observation.
“I heard you following me. I know what you are,” you admit, then instantly regret it. Stupid girl.
“I know who you are, too. You’re the one who makes the ID’s and entry requests.”
“Business hours are Monday through Friday, 8am to 5pm.” Were you seriously being flippant with a doppelgänger? You give a little chuckle to show you’re joking around, but the noise sounds more like a dying hyena, slightly panicked and hysterical.
“Those hours don’t work for me.”
“Oh.” So he was a prospective customer then? “Cash up front, half in advance, the rest on delivery. Currently working this week behind the abandoned grocery store off of Burke Street. I have to rotate the site to, you know…”
“I’ll pay extra,” he adds. “For the inconvenience of the hour and short notice.”
You lick your lips at the prospect of making additional funds. What would be fair to charge? “You need it right now? What’s the hurry?”
“Are you able to do it or not?” This now laced with irritation. His patience and good graces were wearing thin already. Best not to ire him further. You’re lucky to still be alive.
“Yeah, I can do it.”
“I’ll drive us there, then.”
“Where am I supposed to sit?” You glance around the front of the cabin. There’s only one seat for the driver.
You see his shoulders raise and lower in a shrug before he sits behind the wheel. You suppose your only choice is to sit on the floor.
“Your truck reeks,” you say, that sour smell assaulting your nostrils again as you lower yourself down.
The engine rumbles to life. “Deliveries didn’t get made today.”
“Did you…” You’re wondering what happened to the original, human operator of the vehicle. Had he suffered some grim fate? Were his remains sitting in the doppelgänger’s gut, being digested at this very moment? You shudder at the unpleasant thought.
He glances down at you. “No. I simply duplicated his form and stole the truck. You humans leave your body substances everywhere,” he says, lifting the cap off his head and tossing it onto the dashboard. “This one perspired all over that.”
That was all it took for a doppel to replicate a human. Just a little bit of something from the original. Sweat. Blood. Mucus. Probably other, even more unsavory substances, too.
It’s uncomfortable on the floor. The truck’s suspension jostles you roughly. Luckily you don’t have far to go. The driver eases behind the abandoned brick building, shutting off the headlamps. There are no functioning street lights in this part of town. You’re shrouded in darkness.
The doppel stands and you struggle to your feet, reluctantly accepting the hand he offers you to assist you to your feet. You’ve never touched one of the invaders directly before. It feels normal. Just like a human. You’re not sure if that makes it better or worse.
You’ve been working out of the manager’s office in the rear of the store. You’ve got an actual set of keys, pilfered once you’d broken into the building. Another of your talents, that. Breaking and entering. An additional skill this unfair life has made you adept at.
You’re not used to being here so late. It’s amazing no one’s realized the building is still on the electrical grid. You’re grateful for the mistake, switching on the light in the back hallway after feeling blindly for the switch. The doppel is just behind you. You unlock the office door and hit another light switch, sighing in relief. That was better. Familiar territory. No longer in darkness.
But there’s an anxious invader at your back, and that knowledge is less than comforting. You sit down in the office chair behind the steel desk and he settles into the hardbacked one across from you.
“So, um…about the fee.”
Without a word the alien digs into his pants pocket, extracting several bills from a wallet and sliding them over to you. “Will that be sufficient?”
You’re trying to keep a straight face. Where did he get this much money? “Yes, that’s fine. Do you…do you have a home address for the individual?”
Delving back into the wallet, he now produces a car registration. Francis Mosses. You recognize the area he resides in. A better part of town than the one you’re living in, but maybe someday you could change that.
Although, you’re about to make that area a lot less safe, you think, pulling the necessary tools out of the large bottom desk drawer, including a DDD logo stamp. That had been the hardest item to acquire. The rest were fairly routine.
“I need to take a picture. Do you just want to get that over with now?” He nods. “Can you stand in front of the door? It’s a good blank background.” Another nod as you stand. He closes the office door and positions himself, waiting for you to snap the Polaroid. Damn, he really is attractive. Exactly your type. You don’t even mind the little bend at the bridge of his nose or the shadows under his eyes. You take several pictures, one for the ID card and one for the entry request, with some extras just for…well, maybe just to have options if the others didn’t turn out well.
You’re not used to being watched while you work.
You typically have the doppels come back to pick the forgeries up later. These dark eyes watch your every movement like a hawk, from the way you print onto the request form to the drag of the scalpel blade around two of the photographs(they had all come out fine), carefully affixing them to both documents. You roll the stamp in the black ink pad and press it gently but firmly into each corner, waving a hand over the fresh ink to help it dry.
“You’re skilled at this,” he murmurs appreciatively, and your head lifts to meet his gaze. “I see why you come so highly recommended.”
“It’s not like there’s any competition,” you say, feeling a flush creep into your cheeks over the praise.
“True. Not many humans would betray their own kind, would they?”
Your lips press into a thin line of displeasure. You didn’t need the reminder. Was he mocking you?
“Forgive me. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sure you have your reasons.”
Somewhat mollified, you glance down at your work. It still looked a little moist. You need it to be completely dry before you apply the lamination to seal it in permanently.
The copycat is still staring at you. You, not the documents you’re working on. You clear your throat. “I want to make sure they’ve dried properly.”
“Of course.”
“It’ll just be a few minutes.”
“I don’t mind the wait.”
You lean back and the swivel chair creaks. Your shoulders are aching. You’d made a lot of forgeries today. Too much time spent hunched over the desk. Your eyes are a little sore, too, dry and burning. You needed a bath and maybe a snack and bed. Forget dinner. That sounded too complicated at this hour.
“You’re tired,” he observes.
“It’s been a long day.”
“I am inconveniencing you greatly, aren’t I?”
He doesn’t sound remorseful, exactly. You don’t know what he sounds like. It’s too difficult to process. You’re exhausted, that post adrenaline rush from earlier really depleting the last stores of energy. You don’t even think you’d protest if he decided to turn on you right now, taking the goods and making a meal out of you before he ran. The symbols are more of a professional courtesy than anything. It’s not like it actually prevented the doppels from physically being able to attack.
The legs of the chair he’s seated in drag across the dirty linoleum flooring, making a loud scraping sound. You watch warily as he comes around the desk, easing past a filing cabinet to reach your side.
“We haven’t really negotiated the full price yet, have we?”
Oh. Was that what was happening? He was going to stiff you. Suddenly that advance amount no longer seemed so generous. That was to be your total payment. Honestly, you should have been more demanding.
“I have more money,” he says, immediately canceling out your previous assumption, “but I don’t think that’s what you need most right now.”
“You’re right. I should be at home in the bathtub. Or better yet bed,” you add.
His hand reaches for the edge of the chair, turning you fully to face him. The abrupt movement catches you by surprise.
“Maybe what you really need is some good old fashioned milk.” His hand closes over your wrist, dragging your hand towards what you’ve somehow missed previously. He’s hard. Like full on, bulging, fit to burst out of his trousers. You should be terrified. You are scared, kind of. But turned on. Stupidly aroused because you haven’t had anyone give you this kind of attention in who knows how long. Sex had just kind of fallen by the wayside for you. There was so much else that needed to be accounted for.
You watch the hand pulling the leather strap of the imposter milkman’s belt in wonder, as if you can’t quite reconcile it’s your own doing this. Its partner joining, thumbing the button of the fly through the slot and parting the metal teeth below into a wicked grin. You shove the waistband of his briefs down and his cock springs free, flushed and thick and oozing precum. You stare at that clear bead of fluid as if hypnotized. Your mouth waters. You want it. You want to suck this creature dry.
Your tongue swipes over the crown of his erection and the doppel hums in pleasure. “Good girl,” he says encouragingly, and the praise sends heat right between your legs, your pussy tingling in response. You’re no longer thinking about your unfinished work on the desk beside you, about how dangerous it is to be alone with a doppelgänger in an abandoned building at night. You’re instead wondering how much of that dark pink length you’re going to be able to voluntarily sample before your gag reflex interrupts and he forced to fuck into your throat manually. Your sex throbs again. Time to stop wondering and find out.
Your lips close over the head and begin sliding over the shaft. Clean musk. A better flavor than perhaps you’d anticipated. You take a few experimental bobs, testing. He’s stretching you already. Your lips. The fat head bumping your cheeks, your soft palate. His fingers are in your hair, combing through the tresses with a strange kind of tenderness.
“So good. You’re so talented…”
You whimper a little, trying to reach more of him. There it is. That natural barrier of your body’s resistance. You struggle against it until you’re forced to withdraw, coughing and gasping, leaving a trail of thick saliva behind. You give yourself a brief respite, stroking the slick fluids over his prick. It makes a lewd squelching sound every time you massage the shaft. You can feel your arousal leaking between your legs, saturating your panties. You reach under your skirt, no longer caring about how depraved you appear. It’s a relief when your fingers make contact with your clit, dragging that wetness around the bundle of nerve endings in frantic circles.
“That’s a good girl. Touch that pussy. It feels good, doesn’t it? So good…”
Your mouth engulfs his cock again. You roll your lips inward and massage the length in short bursts. Now relaxing and planting soft, passionate kisses on the tip. You spit on it and slurp up the liquid noisily. You like the sounds the doppel is making. You’ve never liked the men who were quiet, reserved. This invader isn’t holding back. He moans and groans and hisses. His teeth catch his bottom lip. His head tips back when the ecstasy of the blow job gets to be a bit overwhelming. And you love every minute of it. You savor every sound and gesture as you perform the obscene act while masturbating, grinding your swollen bundle of nerve endings against your pubic bone.
“You’re hungry, honey, aren’t you? Starving. I’ve got what you need, darling.” The nails of the hand you have curled around his hip dig into the cotton and polyester blended fabric of his uniform pants as you push yourself even further down his length, this time bruising your throat. You ignore the discomfort, grateful when the hand in your hair finally tightens and you feel him begin to fuck your mouth, battering the rear of that moist cavern over and over. “You want a drink, baby? You ready for it?”
You hum in agreement and he eases up, withdrawing until just the head of that thick phallus sits on the tip of your tongue. You’re panting, moaning, frantic for his release perhaps even more than your own.
“Here you go, sweetheart.” A couple of swipes along the shaft and that brief pumping is enough to send him over the edge, thick pulses of cum now spraying the inside of your mouth, pooling on the wedge of muscle his dick rests against. There’s a lot. An absurd amount. You can feel it leaking from the corners of your mouth. Bitter, but not the worst you’ve tasted. Sheer coincidence your body decides to shatter the instant you swallow that load, forcing that creamy baby batter down your gullet while your pussy spasms against your relentless finger.
“There you go, baby. Good girl.”
The milkman’s doppel bends to kiss you, surprising you with the gesture, now of all times, licking your face clean before thrusting his tongue between your lips and you crash right into another orgasm, moaning and twitching while the imposter fucks your mouth with his tongue.
Truly wrung out now, you collapse against the back of the chair, your chest heaving. The doppelgänger refastens his pants, but not before you notice it looks like he could go another round soon, and oh, doesn’t that make your cunt throb again in spite of being so recently satisfied, twice no less.
It takes great effort to smooth your skirt and your mussed hair back into some semblance of order, returning your attention to the documents that are certainly ready by now, the ink well set. The doppelgänger doesn’t return to his seat, instead remaining beside you, watching as the final protective layer is applied.
“There you go. Finished.” You glance up to see the doppel’s gaze fixed on you again, the money forgotten in his hand.
“Maybe…maybe we could work out a deal for the remainder of the payment.”
Your heart speeds up a little. “I’m listening.”
“Maybe I could make special deliveries. To your residence. For as long as it takes to cancel the debt.”
You hum, pretending to consider the offer even though you already know what your answer will be. “What happens after that?”
“We can renegotiate the terms when the time comes.”
“Interesting.”
“Interesting as in you want to think it over, or…interesting as in you definitely want more?” He bends to kiss you again. Gentler this time, but no less appealing.
“The latter.”
“Good. I was hoping you’d say that.” He sets the cash on the desk. “Consider that a tip then, for a job well done.”
You’re not going to argue with that. You hurriedly put everything away and lock the office again, soon finding yourself back outside next to the truck.
“Are you walking home, or do you want a ride?”
You weigh the discomfort of being on the floor in the smelly vehicle against walking home alone at an even riskier hour, where an encounter with another doppel would most assuredly not go as pleasantly.
“I’ll take the ride. But you need to clean the truck out.”
“I’ll do it in the morning.”
“The real milkman must have caught hell losing all these orders and the company car,” you murmur as you return to your former position inside the vehicle.
“Not my problem.”
“Every man for himself, right?” You can hardly condemn the attitude, given your current career choice.
“Exactly.” A flash of teeth in the darkness. He steals another kiss before starting the engine, bending low to capture your lips.
You’re delivered safely to your apartment building minutes later, personally escorted by the cloned milkman.
“I’ll bring you your next delivery tomorrow night, hmm?”
“Okay.” He’s standing so close. It takes just the slightest lean for him to kiss you again.
“Unless, of course, you wanted another advance…”
You shove the door you’ve already unlocked open, inviting the doppelgänger inside.
Back Alley - Doppelgänger Francis Mosses x Female Reader
Word Count 5k
Rating Explicit
CW - minor blood/injury, fluff and smut
Also available on AO3
The end of your shift. The quiet part of the evening.
Nestled downtown in the oldest part of the city, the diner you’re employed at as a waitress caters to DDD members and civilians alike. The final patrons have already filed out the front entrance, a pair of glass front doors with shiny chrome handles. You begin the process of closing the establishment for the evening, starting with a final wipe down of all the surfaces in the dining area while the young man that washes dishes works his way through the last batch of soiled utensils and plates and cups. You count the money in the register and gather the receipts, placing everything on the owner’s desk in the tiny office in back of the restaurant.
The adolescent has finished the washing in the kitchen and finds you putting leftover food scraps onto a plate, a snack for the stray cats that dwell in the alley behind the diner. He rocks on his heels, the apron he’d been wearing already removed and now anxiously wrung between his hands. “Did you want me to wait, or…”
You smile softly. “No, that’s alright. I’m just going to set this out and bring out the trash and I’ll be locking up. Go on home. Be safe.”
Needing no further encouragement, the youth darts from the kitchen. You shake your head ruefully, gathering the ends of the plastic bag in the kitchen’s rubbish bin together and knotting them. Balancing trash in one hand and the plate in the other, you manage to open the heavy steel door at the rear of the diner that leads to the alley.
Normally there are several strays to greet you as soon as you open the door, accustomed as they are to this nightly routine.
Tonight it takes you several moments to locate one solitary form after you’ve lobbed the bag into the dumpster and closed the lid, retrieving the plate you’d set by the back door.
You spy one of your usual clients hovering near the stockade fence further down the narrow passageway, a raggedy looking gray tabby with a torn ear that’s normally the friendliest of the bunch.
“Hey there. What’s wrong, you’re not hungry?” You walk forward a couple of steps, crouching down and holding out your empty hand, making little affectionate sounds to lure the animal closer.
In the distance you hear voices shouting. Not uncommon in the city, but you’re still wary as you straighten, leaving the plate on the ground.
The cat, still hunched by the fence, issues a warning growl.
You turn and see a shape moving from the opposite end of the alley where it divides into the main road, the hair on your bare forearms rising, the skin goose pimpling.
You whirl around, already making for the open door at your back, that slice of light inside a beacon that’s frustratingly so close and yet so far.
You don’t quite make it.
A hand reaches the door before you do, slamming it shut. It becomes a wall at your back as you shrink against it, recoiling from whatever just closed it.
No, not whatever. The strays knew what it was. Now you know, too.
A doppelgänger.
This one dressed in the uniform of a milkman, though his outfit had seen better days. Spattered with blood, you cannot find a single patch of the white shirt that doesn’t bear some trace of scarlet droplets. Shouting again in the distance, though this time it sounds closer.
You open your mouth to yell for help and a hand instantly clamps down over it. The doppel is breathing heavily. It must be the DDD pursuing him. Without the light of the diner’s interior, you can’t see much of the creature’s replicated features in the night shrouded alley. You wonder why he hasn’t killed you yet, your heart hammering like mad.
“I’m not going to hurt you. If you help me, I’ll do something for you in return.”
He was trying to bargain? Bad idea. Doppelgängers were notorious liars. By definition of their very existence they had to be masters of deceit. He must have been desperate if he was making this offer. Definitely being chased by the disposal team officers, the likely source of the shouting you’ve been hearing, the details of the situation coming together in your mind.
You can’t imagine a single thing the invader could offer you that you’d desire.
“I’m going to remove my hand. We’re going to go inside. You’re not going to make a sound. Agreed? Nod if you understand me.”
Wide eyed, nostrils flaring, you move your head, signaling your acceptance of his terms. What choice did you have?
The barrier over your mouth lifts and you’re pushed aside, firmly but without malice, the heavy door wrenched open. You’re shoved inside and the door is quickly shut again.
“Is the front door locked? Lights off?”
You nod, swallowing past a panicked lump in your throat as you take a couple of steps back away from the intruder.
The male copycat sighs, shoulders visibly sagging with relief.
He’s still hiding.
Still wearing the visage of the human he’d duplicated, a tired looking brunette male probably in his early thirties with tousled chestnut hair, shadowed under eyes, a long nose with the slightest bump along the bridge—an old injury that had never healed quite right, perhaps—set above thin lips.
The arm that’s been tucked tightly against his side the entire time, never once in use to restrain you or open the door, you realize, now lifts, exposing a gash across his lower abdomen, rent right through the fabric and severing the flesh beneath.
You’d incorrectly assumed the blood had been from a struggle with the original milkman he’d replicated, not from the alien himself. You suck in a deep breath, wincing as your eyes linger on the injury. “What happened?”
“Got cut jumping the fence.”
“That’s going to need stitches,” you observe as he drags the shirt’s hem free of his belted pants, hurriedly thumbing the buttons open and shrugging out of the garment, thrusting it into the garbage bin you hurriedly point to. The undershirt is similarly stained, but this he leaves in place, merely lifting the edge to better expose the wound.
His eyes meet yours. “Can you do it?”
“I mean, I’m not a physician. All I have is the sewing kit I keep in my purse to mend tears in an emergency. You need to see a doctor, go to the hospital…” Your voice trails off. Of course he couldn’t. He’d be killed instantly.
“Get it.”
You hesitate. Were you really going to risk helping this foreigner?
“Please,” he adds through gritted teeth. Perspiration beads his forehead. You wonder if he hasn’t already been exposed to something that would prove infectious later on. Not really your concern, though. You just needed to survive until you could get away from him. Somehow.
“Alright.” You don’t spare any more time debating about what the right course of action is. You grab one of the clean dish rags from under the kitchen sink and your purse stashed in the bottom desk drawer in the office.
The doppelgänger’s eyes remained fixed on your every movement, watching as you soak the wash cloth in warm water and pull the sewing kit from your purse, the fingers threading the needle shaking. You drag one of the chairs from the dining room for him to sit on, kneeling on the linoleum beside his seated form.
You hesitate again. You really didn’t have the appropriate kind of materials for this. Should you have heated the needle to try to sterilize it first? Was there even time for that? Would it be easier just to attempt to cauterize the area? Somehow you don’t think the invader would be keen on the idea of getting burned, even if the intention was to aid and not harm. “I don’t know that this is going to work, but I’ll do my best. This is going to hurt,” you caution.
“Worse than being cut open?” He asks bitterly.
“No, I suppose not.” You begin washing around the cut, scrubbing at the dried blood, trying to clean the edges of the laceration. It’s still weeping blood but the flow has slowed, the body’s natural clotting process coming into effect. The milkman he’s replicated is on the leaner side, with little softness in the abdomen you’re cleansing. “Why can’t you just replicate the skin again? Make it intact?”
“It doesn’t work like that. It’s penetrated through the outer layer. You humans are so fragile. It doesn’t take much to tear through…” He lets that thought remain unfinished.
You shiver, thinking of how, were circumstances different, he would’ve torn you to shreds without a second thought, murdering you at best, devouring you at worst. You can’t help but wonder if the doppel will turn on you once you finished patching him up.
“Okay, I’m going to try to start sewing.” Your heart is still thudding rapidly. Your eyes narrow in concentration as you pierce the skin, hurriedly seeking the adjacent flesh to sling the thread between, then drawing it taut. You’re feeling a little nauseous and lightheaded. You tell yourself you’re not piecing a person back together. Urging yourself to pretend it was something else. Mending a torn shirt. A ripped stuffed animal. Anything but the gruesome sight before you.
At last the task is completed, the pale skin sutured together. You sit back on your heels, heaving a raspy sigh, your hands clasped tightly together in your lap, willing them to stop trembling.
“You’re skilled,” the doppelgänger murmurs, looking over your handiwork, probing the closed incision gingerly. It is a rather impressive job if you’re being honest, a neat line of even stitches despite your shaking hands.
“You’ll need to keep this clean so it doesn’t get infected. And you can’t move around too much. I don’t know how well that thread will hold.” You gently push his questing digits away, applying gauze and tape from the first aid kit in the office to cover the wound and he eases the ripped undershirt back down.
“Thank you.”
Your eyes meet his. You’ve never heard of an invader asking a human for help. Being grateful. You don’t know what to make of it.
“I won’t forget this.”
You rise, tossing the used wash cloth in the trash and returning your sewing kit to the depths of your handbag. You return the chair to the dining room once he’s slid from it, watching as you settle your purse strap on your shoulder, keys to the diner in hand. The replicant opens the back door a crack, peeking outside, head cocked slightly, listening. No shouting. The DDD had passed through the area. He glances back at you a final time before slipping through the gap.
You lock the door behind him, then sag against it, exhaling a shuddering breath. He’d let you live, as promised. A doppelgänger that kept his word.
What did it mean?
***
He’s in the alley again.
You tell yourself you weren’t looking for the milkman’s clone every night for the last three shifts, merely taking out the garbage and feeding the strays per usual.
Your stomach does a little somersault as he approaches. His skin color is better, no longer so ghostly pale. The milkman uniform he’s wearing looks clean and crisp and starched. Where had he gotten it? Was he keeping a low profile, pretending to be the human he’s dressed as? There certainly seemed to be some transfer of knowledge that occurred when the replicants adopted a human form, intelligence information that surpasses beyond what could be obtained through just casual observation. The doppels knew so much about humans, and humans still knew so little about the invaders, what should have been a home field advantage hampered by the persistence of these alien visitors.
“How are you?” You greet him cautiously.
“Healing well. You did a fine job.”
What should you say to that? You’re glad you helped the enemy? You shudder to think what would happen if anyone ever found that out.
The doppelgänger steps closer. “Are you going to invite me inside?”
As if he was a vampire, seeking permission to grant entrance. You can’t imagine what he wants from you now.
Still, you push the door open wider. He eases past you, his body lightly brushing yours.
“What do you have to eat?”
“Um…” As far as you knew, the invaders only ate human flesh. “What…what did you want? I haven’t cleared out the displays yet. There’s pie, donuts from the morning, though those are probably stale by now. I can make you a sandwich, or…”
He follows you into the dining room as you list the possible offerings, reaching for one of the chocolate iced pastries tucked under the nearest glass dome. He takes an experimental bite and his mouth turns down in disgust at the flavor.
“I warned you they’d be stale.”
“It’s not that. It’s the sweetness. Overwhelming. We’re primarily carnivores.”
“Is turkey okay? Or maybe ham? I don’t know what to offer you.”
He tips his head to one side, considering. “Cow?”
“Yes, we have ground beef.”
“That would be preferable.”
“You just want it…raw?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” There are a couple of defrosted packages in the fridge. You resolve to put some of your tip money towards the meal. You don’t like the idea of stealing from the restaurant.
It feels weird just handing him the styrofoam tray, but also silly to dump the mass of pink pulverized meat onto a plate. You refuse to watch him eat, studying one of the laminated menus resting on the counter intently, unfortunately catching a glimpse of him licking the traces of blood lingering at the bottom of the package when you dare to glance over at him.
“I’m aware this adds to the debt I owe you,” he says.
You discard the tray and fold your arms across your chest, trying to exude more confidence than you felt. “I’ll put it on your tab.”
A slight frown appears as the creature processes the phrase.
“It means adding it to the list of things you already owe that you intend to repay.”
“Ah. Yes, that.” He watches you finish cleaning up after his grim repast, wiping the counter down a final time before accompanying you to the front door and waiting as you lock the entrance from the outside, tugging on the chrome handles to make sure they’ve been secured properly. “Do you live nearby?”
“Yes,” you answer, suddenly wary.
“This is not a very safe part of town for humans,” he muses.
Is anywhere safe anymore?
“Is your living space guarded by the DDD?”
“Not internally. There’s just the street patrol.”
“I’ll accompany you as far as your destination, then.”
“You don’t have to.”
The doppelgänger insists, now walking beside you. It feels unwise to allow the invader to see where you live, but then again, had he done anything to harm you thus far? Surely there had been opportunity if that was his main goal. What was his main goal? What did he want, if not to consume, to take over control of the planet like his brethren?
“You’re not like the others,” you murmur your thoughts out loud, feeling the mimic’s eyes flick in your direction.
“Do you know many doppels?” He sounds bemused.
“No,” you reply, stepping over a broken bottle littering the pavement.
“Is every human the same?”
“Of course not.”
“So why should we be any different?”
“I guess you’re right,” you concede.
You’ve reach the end of the street you’re traveling on and take a right, leading the invader onward into another back alley. You’ve barely taken a few paces before the sound of heavy footsteps alerts you to someone else’s presence.
“Disposal team.” You hear the disgust and fear in your companion’s tone as he tenses, jerking to a halt. The sounds are getting louder as the guards draw closer. “Play along. They won’t be suspicious if they see a couple.”
Suddenly you’re pushed against the wall, so abruptly the air leaves your lungs, your next desperate intake of oxygen interrupted when the doppel’s mouth covers yours.
You feel you stomach do that little somersault motion again. His tongue finds the inside of your mouth. He tastes slightly metallic. The movements are inexperienced, clumsy. Imitating something he’s seen. The teeth that nip your bottom lip are sharp.
“Hey! You there! What’s going…” The DDD officer halts, the beam of the flashlight illuminating what appears as your lover pinning you against the wall, caught up in a moment of passion. You don’t even have to fake the look of embarrassment as your eyes shyly meet the guard’s, the doppel’s mouth sliding from yours.
“Sorry, sir. Just picked my girl up from work and I couldn’t wait.” He offers a sheepish grin that looks extremely convincing.
The DDD member’s partner draws even with his cohort, the gun in his hand lowering, looking over the pastel yellow dress you’re wearing.
“I know you. You work over at the diner.”
You nod frantically.
“You should get on home. It isn’t safe out here. Even with your man with you. Especially not down the side streets.”
“Sorry, that was my idea. My feet are killing me and I just wanted to get home faster.” You pause, reaching for your purse still slung over your shoulder. “Did you want to see our IDs?”
“Nah, that’s alright. Imagine a doppel making out with a human. Right?” He elbows his companion, grinning.
“Get home safe, now. No more dallying,” the older of the pair cautions before abandoning you, resuming patrol with the more inexperienced member who’s still wearing a smirk as he trails slightly behind, darting one more glance in your direction as if hoping to catch you in the act again.
The copycat heaves a sigh of relief when they’ve both finally departed, the booted steps receding in the distance. His eyes lock with yours, and you see his nostrils flare slightly, a slight frown wrinkling the bridge of his nose, then his eyelids lift, whatever mystery he’s been puzzling over solved.
“You liked that.”
“What?” It’s your turn to be confused.
“You liked what we just did.”
Oh. Your cheeks flush again. “No, I…I was just playing along, like you said. You caught me off guard.”
“You did a good job. Thinking on your feet. Admirable, really. How deep in debt I’m getting,” the doppel hums beside your cheek. He hasn’t shifted much since your discovery, one hand still braced on the wall at your back, his body leaning close to yours. “You smell good. Good enough to eat.”
You shiver and gasp. “You promised me you wouldn’t hurt me.”
“No, no. Not what I had in mind at all,” he hurriedly reassures you. The clone of the milkman plants a kiss on the side of your neck. Gentle. Not rushed, not under the guise of something to trick the guards. Repeating the process, getting accustomed to using the human body he’s replicated for this new task. He kisses your lips again, and you know you should be repulsed.
You’re not.
Your mouth parts for his, inviting him inside. He’s already growing more skilled, the tongue against yours slick, deft, curling and stroking, the fire he’d begun stoking in your core flaring anew.
You’re French kissing a doppelgänger, and you like it.
You feel a hand caressing down your body, pausing to drag the purse off your shoulder, then kneading one breast before sliding down to your hip, moving neatly around to grope the curve of one buttocks cheek. The fingers curl, dragging up the fabric of your dress.
“I can smell your arousal. Your body wants to mate.” It’s crass, vulgar, sheer filth the alien should be slapped for uttering, but there’s nothing derogatory in the way he mentions it, the words of observation that he spreads before your lips lilted with a kind of wonder, fascination, curiosity. He’s finally reached the hem of the skirt portion of your work uniform, shifting quickly to the waistband of the panties you’re wearing, dipping underneath and nudging at the fork of your body.
To be doing this, with a doppelgänger, in public…
Your legs are already shifting, your stance broadening slightly to grant him better access. A little grunt of satisfaction, and then his fingers glide through your slickened folds, searching for the source of that dampness.
You moan softly, disappointed when the fingers do not linger, instead brought up to the invader’s lips, his thumb rolling the slick of your sex over the pads of his index and middle fingers curiously before he thrusts them into his mouth, a fresh flood leaking from your canal as you watch his eyes slide closed, a sound of some rapturous enjoyment hummed around those digits.
He kneels down, the movement swift and smooth, your eyes darting nervously to the lit street so close and yet so far, the last of the street lamp glow’s reach ending just beyond the shadows you’re standing in. The doppel looks up at you and you bury a hand in the thick mane of chestnut hair, a tender gesture of permission, pleading. You don’t know if he’d stop even if you’d declined the offer, that ravenous look in his eyes intense as he impatiently shifts the hem of your dress again, dragging away the flimsy undergarment that clothes your sex, this last barrier discarded carelessly on the pavement nearby.
Your low heeled pumps scrape against the dirty gravel of the alley as you adjust your position, the alien’s face instantly at your pussy, nose digging into your mound, tongue laving the rosy sensitive flesh. He groans and you echo the sound, your legs already trembling as his tongue delves deeper, dragging fluid back, the inadvertent flick of the tip of the curled muscle against your bud making you gasp and moan, your head rocking back against the brick and mortar.
His attention focuses on that sensitive bundle of nerve endings, mouth clamping over it and sucking, slurping, nursing at it until you see spots in front your eyes. You know you’re being loud, your only saving grace being that the building at your back is a long abandoned shirt factory with no one to hear your lewd sounds of pleasure.
His fingers are at your entrance again, paired to penetrate into that opening. The milkman he’s imitating has long fingers that reach deep, curling and twisting inside, scooping out more of your arousal for him to lap at before he sups at your pussy, drinking straight from the source.
You bite your bottom lip until it bleeds when you climax, shuddering against that incessant mouth worshipping your cunt, your fingers knotting restlessly in his tresses. You cum like a freight train, hard and fast, an unstoppable force driving you right through into bliss.
He’s still lapping, enjoying the taste of you, this new creamier substance that emerges from deep within after your release. You can’t tolerate it any longer, now shoving gently at his shoulders, pleading you’re too sensitive, it’s too much, you feel as if you might faint if not for the strong building exterior supporting your spine.
The doppelgänger rises, face wet with your juices smeared across his mouth and chin and cheeks, a distinct shine visible even in this dim illumination. “Delicious,” he growls softly, dragging his fingers over his dampened features and then nursing them clean.
His gaze focuses on the smear of crimson on your lower lip and he licks at that spot, sucking the wedge into his mouth, tasting that little copper tinged leakage of your lifeforce. You whimper and keen, feeling his hand guide one of yours to his crotch, pressing it against the erection straining there.
You squeeze gently and he huffs in pleasure, dragging your hand up and down. Needing no further guidance, you begin struggling with the belt buckle and button closure and zipper keeping you from your goal, dragging his cock through the opening flap of his briefs, smearing precum over the tip and eliciting another deep growl, the mouth nuzzling your throat vibrating in pleasure.
“Want to fuck you,” he gasps, and you find yourself nodding, no longer caring about the exposed location or what you’re about to let invade your body. You want it, the brief satiety you’d just enjoyed already dissipating, leaving you hungry for more.
His hands loop around the back of your thighs, his body crouching slightly then lifting you up, your dress scraping along the bricks. He fucks up into you and your legs wrap around him, your wrists draped over his shoulders as you’re thrust into and back against the building.
The milkman’s copycat prick is large, long and thick, stretching you as he fills you when his hips snap forward. Your unprotected buttocks suffers abrasions each time you’re impaled but you couldn’t care less. The pain is lost amidst the pleasure you’re experiencing as he buries himself deeply, withdrawing just slightly before driving forward again. Your mouths seek one another’s but it’s difficult with all the jostling, a sloppy collision of wet lips and wetter tongue, trails of saliva linking your panting openings.
“Your stitches…the strain, you shouldn’t…you’re bleeding,” you gasp, the hand that snakes down finding his shirt sticky with blood.
“Don’t care…fix it later…”
Your breasts are tender from the repeated battering of his chest against yours. You’re being pummeled mercilessly now, the invader pushing so hard it’s as if he’s trying to merge completely with you. You almost think you can see, just for a moment, a shift in the facial features, a glimpse of the doppelgänger’s true form lurking beneath the false human surface, but then it’s gone and it’s just those soft tired eyes and that slack, generous mouth as his cock pounds into your cunt until your body finally surrenders to another release, your muscles clenching, sucking at his member. He chases his own climax, moaning against your mouth, pumping streams of hot seed inside of you.
You realize then you’re both sweating, both drenched in perspiration and saliva, blood from his reopened wound and cum that leaks out of you and coats the erection he withdraws from your body as he slowly lowers you back to the ground, your stockinged feet touching the dirty road, your shoes lying nearby where they’d tumbled during the rough intercourse with the alien creature.
The doppel retrieves your panties and you hastily shove them into the purse he hands you. There’s no way you’ll be putting those back on after being in the dirty alley, almost laughing aloud at the idea when you’ve just been soiled by something you should consider disgusting. The amusement fades as you watch him brush the sole of each nylon clad foot clean before assisting them back into your pumps, the gesture almost oddly tender and thoughtful.
The doppelgänger straightens, his fingers reflexively reaching for the bloodied area staining his shirt, then moving to refasten his pants. His eyes meet yours again, waiting to see what you’ll do next. Wondering if there is regret, perhaps. Or if this is the start of…something.
“I…I live two streets over. We’re nearly there.” As if you hadn’t been interrupted on your journey home. You don’t know what to say, just wanting to fill the sudden silence.
He nods and you begin walking in slow, measured steps. Your limbs are still tingling, the aftershocks of your most recent orgasm still firing through them.
You and your companion reach your destination. The building looms up between two shuttered shops. Five stories. No elevator. You resided on the top floor. A lot of stairs to tackle on a good night when you’d merely worked a shift at the diner. Now, after this…
“It’s a long trek. I’m on the fifth floor. Will you be okay walking that much? I don’t know where else to stitch you back up again. I need to wash it, I need a good light source, I…” You’re inviting him inside your apartment. The realization suddenly dawns on you.
“Yes, I’ll manage.” He pauses. “Thank you,” he says softly.
“For what?”
“Helping me avoid the DDD earlier. This. Letting me into your home.”
You nod, your hand resting on the rusted railing that borders a flight of cement steps leading inside the building. The nearby street lamp flickers, a bulb that was long overdue for a change, the filaments within struggling.
“Of course. People should help each other.” You ascend the stairs, holding open the door for him.
He nods gratefully. “I’m not human, though. I’m the enemy.”
“Are you?” Your voice sounds wary at this reminder and you pause at the top of the first landing.
“I won’t hurt you,” he promises, following you up the next flight of stairs.
“Until the debt is repaid?”
“You don’t trust me.” It’s a statement, not a query.
“I don’t know how I feel.” You’ve reached the third floor. Despite his bravado earlier, you see him wincing slightly, his breathing ragged as he keeps one hand pressed to the injury. You wait for him to recover but he waves his other hand, indicating you should continue your journey.
“Did you enjoy it?”
The words make you halt abruptly and he nearly collides with you. You hurry up to the next landing and clear your throat before you give voice to your admission. “Yes, I enjoyed it,” you say when he reaches your side.
“Will we do that again?”
“Now?”
His solemn features break out into a smile. Handsome. The milkman whose appearance he’d copied was attractive, especially like this. You like the curve of that mouth, the flash of his teeth. “No, not now. I’m hardly in any condition to…I meant later,” he adds for clarification. “Another time.”
“Oh. Yes.” A sudden thought occurs to you. “Will you be safe from the patrol? On the way back, to wherever…”
“I’ll manage. Don’t worry.” He steps closer to you. “Are you that anxious to be rid of me?”
“No, I only meant…” You shake your head, feeling flustered.
“Were you looking for me tonight? When you were behind the diner. Hoping I’d be there, maybe?”
“Why would I…I hardly know you.”
“You know me a little better now though, right?” He crowds you back against the wall of the stairwell. You’re thinking maybe injury or not, he still wants you. You can feel the desire radiating from his eyes, his lips hovering close to yours. “You’re really something special, aren’t you? Out of all the humans to run into, and I find the only one who’s willing to take a chance on me, risk…” His voice trails off before he kisses your mouth. It seems impossible there would be any passion left inside of you to respond but you find your lips melting against his, one hand curling around the nape of his neck, holding the doppelgänger close.
in am so high and drunk rn and i need drunk and/or high sex with schlatt so bad
You got me so high
nsfw
oral sex, high fem reader and high schlatt, i didn't write much for this mb
a/n; hiiiiii im backkkkkkk
schlatt didn't know how'd this happen, you and him sat on his living room, getting high as you two smoke the weed, getting stoned cold
you lean your back on the seat, taking a deep breath before inhaling the cannabis again, “ fuckkk “ you groan out chuckle, noticing schlatt was already staring at you
“ hey y/n, have you always looked this pretty? “ he asks, sweat dripping off his forehead, the run rays managing to hit both of your faces
“ dont get weird man “ you smile out, ruffling your hair, getting all high with him as schlatt breaks a smile and a chuckle, “ im not joking, you're so fucking pretty “
you look at him, “ dont go falling in love now “ you cross your legs as your shirt hang loose on your shoulder, the sweat making your body glistening
he smiles at you, eyeing your shoulder, getting goosebumps as he smokes off, “ hey, not trying to sugarcoat or anything but, i kind of wanna bend you over and fuck the shit out of you right now “ he confesses, blunt as you choke on your spit
“ have you always been this so blunt if you're horny or not? “ you mutters, unbothered, you two were high after all, it's not that serious
“ rarely, i dont know… you're just.. enticing to look at right now “ schlatt added, “ … are you down? “ he slowly looks up at you
“ wait, “ you pause, “ you wanna actually do it? “ all you can do was chuckle, unsure if he was being ironic or no, but the look on his face otherwise
“ does me having a hard on not obvious enough? “ schlatt states, as you look down at the now obvious tent on his pants
“ shit schlatt… why the fuck is it so bulgy “ you breathe out as he chuckles, “ wanna feel it inside you? “
“ … bet “
there you are now, schlatt thrusting his hips onto your mouth, seeing your messy eyeliner ran down on your cheek, choking on his dick
“ fuck… im gonna ugh- be fucking honest… you look better this.. shit.. way “ he continues, holding up your hair in a ponytail so it wont get on your face
you could feel his tip reach the back of your throat, as he grunts out your name everytime he throats in and out of you, your saliva bubbling, messing your makeup up but for schlatt, it was only a sight he can see
you meet his thrusts with the bop of your head, your hand snaking inside your shirt as you fondle with your breast while schlatt, could only chuckle in amusement at the sight of his friend sucking the shit out of him
you can hear his dick throb on your tongue giving you more motivation to go faster as schlatt, moans your name out in pleasure, throwing his head back
“ didn't know you could be a fucking whore “ he chuckles, as he groans out loudly, filling your throat with his semen as he slowly pulls out of your mouth seeing how puffy your cheeks are after he filled you up
you cough out his semen, choking a little, as he pats your hair, “ fuck that felt great, you good? “ you chuckle out, “ yeah.. im good “ you reassure him, as schlatt walks toward his kitchen
before handing you a cup of water and wipes to remove your messy makeup, “ … you know.. we should do that more often “ he suggests as you take his offered items
“ like, get high, have sex and shit like that “ he added as you drank the water, nodding, “ bet “
✧— ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: NSFW | cunnilingus, mentions of blood, murder. tongue fucking, monster tongue. hints of overstimulation, art from Pinterest | lmk if I forgot anything
✧— ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: doppelganger Francis makes you open the door...
✧— ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 0.7k
✧— ᴀ/ɴ: please give feedback, it's been over a month since I wrote
「ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ」
The doppelganger should have known better than to show up with ‘scarlet milk’ all over his disguise. He had taken care of the D.D.D of this building already. He just needed to convince the pretty girl behind the screen to let him and cause havoc.
He leans in, his face dangerously close to the glass and he smirks. His eyes are dark and a smirk forms on his face. “Just let me in. Does the D.D.D even treat you well? You deserve to be worshiped and I am willing to be on my knees.”
You swallow as you look at him, only a layer of glass separating you and him. There was a familiar ache between your legs from his words. You couldn't remember the last time you had time for yourself, this simple desk job consuming all your time. You tried to remind yourself that this man is a monster.
But if the monster is ready to be a slut… who are you to refuse?
You press the button that gives him access to your office. You glance at the red button, knowing that the moment you're done having fun with him. You'll have to press it.
The milkman, you know his name is Francis, walks in. He doesn't take any time to press you against the desk. The wood digging into your back.
“Pretty human,” he murmurs, his head dipping in between the space of your shoulder. His lips press a soft kiss. You gasp when you feel his sharp teeth on your skin. If he wanted to, he could tear your flesh.
You let out a breath, your heart beating against your chest. You tilt your head to give him more access to your neck. He takes advantage to lick at your salty skin with his long tongue. “Tasty,” he whispered against your ear. For a moment fear freezes you, thinking that he would eat you alive.
Instead, he gets on his knees. The loud thud makes you wince. “I'll treat you better,” he said, “Be a good girl for me.”
You nod before you can even think.
He gets under your skirt, his breath fanning your wet panties. He pressed his lips to the stain of your arousal. His tongue begins to lick you all over your clothed pussy. You put your hands on the desk, your head thrown back as you moan without shame. You feel weak on the knees. The monster has you caged even though it is your thighs around his head.
He continues to press small kisses all over, and the tip of his tongue puts pressure on your sensitive clit, making you cry out. The wet, rough texture of your panties felt so good against your bud. Then he finally decides that it's enough teasing.
He uses his fingers to pull your underwear out of the way. He chuckled when he saw your wet pussy clenching around nothing. You feel yourself getting hotter.
He eats you out without a care. His strokes are short and impatient. You begin to move your hips, grinding your cunt on his tongue. He groans. His hands are on your thighs and his grip on your flesh tightens. He raises his hands until he's cupping the cheeks of your ass. He kneads the soft flesh as he begins to use his tongue to flick at your clit until it's swollen.
Only when he's satisfied, he kisses the bud and begins to fuck his tongue into your walls. It was no easy feat, but you were so wet and it felt like his tongue was longer than normal humans. He chokes on you, his tongue making out with your tight walls. You cry out from the pleasure, knowing that you'll never feel something like this ever again.
Your eyes roll back, your pussy walls flexing on his tongue. You were so close and you knew you surely were suffocating him with the way you pressed your thighs against his head.
“Please- please-” you begin to plead, your body begging to be released. You would begin to cry if the monster denied you this. His tongue reached deeper inside of your walls than any cock did. He pressed his tongue to a soft, sensitive spot and you got dizzy from the jolts of pleasure. You see white in your vision as you begin to cum. You would have lost your balance if it weren't for him.
He milks your essence on his tongue. He makes sure there's not a single drop left when he stops. You had tears in your eyes as you looked down at him. His lips glisten with your juices. He smirked.
“Let me kill those worthless humans. There's more to that where it came from.”
“…what. the. fuck.” You mutter to yourself, watching the scene before you unfold.
“mmm, how about letting me in now? promise i won’t bite you too hard” His eyes were dangerously seductive.
Your desktop fan and the slight rustling sound of (what you could only assume was) him touching himself filled the eerie silence of your office space.
However, he could still tell that you were hesitant to let him in, especially considering what he just did to D.D.D.
“how about this, sweetheart we-“
“if i open this door.” You cut him off. He shuts up quickly and halts his movements with a blank stare. His eyes watching you intently.
“you come straight to me, or else i swear to fuck. it will not be a good time for you. you copy?” Your hands were firmly grasping the edge of the desk as you stared the man in his color changing eyes.
“i promise” He kisses the window and you give him one last short lived glare before unlocking the door for him.
BZZT!
He slowly turns away from you and walks toward the door and you felt relieved to hear a light knock a few seconds later before he let himself in.
“see? you can trust the milkman” He grins.
He was a mess. Between the torn clothing, the blood, and his unzipped slacks that displayed his black briefs holding back a huge bulge, he honestly looked like something out of a wet dream.
“this is quite a small space… you think i’ll be alright in here?” He closed the door behind himself and strides toward you.
“you don’t have any choice but to be alright” You retort and he chortles.
“i love this mouth of yours… i’ve never crossed paths with a human as bold as you…” He tilts his head, placing a hand under your chin to lift it a bit.
“unless you’re actually scared… and using this boldness as a tactic..?” His irises turn white once again and his grip on your chin tightened slightly.
Though you were enduring a near death experience right now, being that you were this close to a doppelgänger, you were unbelievably horny.
“tactics?” You start. You already knew that you probably wouldn’t be able to get out of his grip just by moving, so you used a more… inappropriate approach.
You took a step closer to him, closing in the 2 foot gap that sat between the two of you and you placed your palm over his hard-on.
His grip immediately loosened a bit and his fingers twitched against your skin. What a reaction that was…
You feel more confident, realizing that he’s just another horny good looking guy. “is there a reason i should be afraid of you?” You ask, hand squeezing around him and a finger rubbing his tip.
He shudders and his hand falls from your chin and rests around your throat. His forehead tapped against yours, and your eyes were fixed on each other. “…you really are something”
“wish i could say the same for you“ You start, breaking the eye contact to look at his lips and sharp canines. “you’re just a slutty and messy excuse of a monster” Your words would probably be venom to anyone else, but this only riled him up more.
You felt his throbbing under your palm and grin to yourself before being greedily pulled into a kiss. For a brief moment, you could taste a metallic bloody taste on his tongue.
You moaned at the warmth of his mouth and felt his hands rested on your hips, rubbing circles into the area.
You release yourself from the kiss with his bottom lip between your teeth and a smile. “desperate, are we?” You tease.
“painfully…” His eyes glistened. “what’ll it take to get those pretty lips to go a little lower?”
“show me what yours can do first and i’ll see about returning the favor” You challenge. His eyes go back and forth between yours before he kisses you again.
This time however, he started to undo your uniform. Groaning so deeply that you felt the rumble in your throat. His skilled hands loosened your belt and your slacks came down and off.
Next he lowered himself and lifted you a bit to get off your socks and shoes, making him get more sloppy and needy within the kiss.
At this point he was squatting and you were standing over him, holding both sides of his face. His hands travelled up and down your leg as he stayed in his position and this time, he’s the one to break the kiss.
You were both breathing heavily, and staring each other down. You almost forgot your resolve and let him fuck you right then and there.
But you had to stay strong, for both of you guys’ sake. You take a deep breath in and til your head.
“well, you gonna show me? or are just sit there and look delirious from a simple kiss?” You teased.
“…may i?” He asks with a slightly raised eyebrow, gesturing toward your leg.
“go ahead”
“hold on to something right”
“why am i h- shit!” You would’ve fell right to the ground if it wasn’t for the shelf behind you that held last months documents. Albeit, they’re scattered over the floor now.
Your legs were snatched from underneath you and each one was hooked over the man’s shoulders. His warm breath against you felt sinister. It sent a slight chill up your spine.
His eyes stared down at your sex and he licked his lips, looking more excited than you did for this. “don’t let go” He says before using gis fingers to spread you sticky lips.
His tongue pressed hard into you and drug from your hole, up to your clit. You bit your lip at the warmth and felt your back arch against your will.
“ha~ this all you got? Thought you said you’d be bet- anghh~!” Your eyes widen and your mouth drops at the new feeling below.
“you were saying?” He mumbles into you. His tongue was longer with a pointy tip, and his lips were wrapped tightly around your clit.
The pleasure was almost overwhelming. You could definitely admit that he made you eat your words and replace them with loud endless moans.
As you felt yourself getting closer you began to grind your hips over his face, chasing after your high.
“don’t stop” You could barely get out the last word before the wave of immense overstimulating pleasure came over you.
You curse and take in a few deep breaths, calming yourself down a bit, and only then did he let your clit go with a ‘pop’, making your legs to twitch.
“that wasn’t fair” You jokingly glare at him, the sweat making your skin shine and chilly from the fan air.
“i told you i was better” He wipes his chin with his thumb and licks it clean without breaking the eye contact.
“you have to be some sort of… sex demon” You shake your head in disbelief.
“maybe i am?” He lets you tug him closer by his tie and give him another sloppy kiss. The change in size of his tongue being just below too much for you as it explored your mouth.
“well let’s see how long you can last then… hm?” You ask, beginning to leave a trail of light kisses on his next before a harsh bite.
You could feel him shudder and decided to have him sit in your office chair. “let me borrow this..” You say, undoing his tie while he sat.
You spin the chair around and bring both of his arms to the back and tie them to the chair. When you spin his back around, his had such a mischievous grin that you went ahead and addressed.
“yes, i know you could probably get out of that in a heartbeat” You start and roll your eyes. He chuckles, amused at your awareness. “but, will you?” It was your turn to put on the sly grin now. The second he managed to break free from his restraint, would be the moment you’d send him off.
“…” He read your face, bit knowing if he should say something sly or not.
“right, thought so” You smile and give him a few taps on the cheek.
You kneel between the man’s legs, finally addressing the large and throbbing penis before you.
“god you’re hard… you weren’t kidding when you said you needed help” You joke, rubbing his wet tip through his boxers with you finger.
He grunted a bit and readjusted himself in his seat. You look up at him before pressing harshly on it with your thumb.
“oh fuck you~” He throws his head back and you giggle.
You reach for the hem of his briefs and tug at them, signaling him to lift his hips. Once he’s exposed, you could really see the girth and length of him.
He was veiny, thick… bright pink tip, and god knows how long it was.
You put your hand around the base, it was warm and nearly pulsating. Your pace was moderate, giving him just enough to work with. You knew it was a nice steady pace when his hips slightly jerked up for more friction.
“needy boy wanting to fuck my hand? this wasn’t even the main event you asked for, love” You coo, strengthening the grip you had on him by a smidge.
“i can’t help that you know how to use those hands of yours so well” He remarks, still facing the ceiling.
You pump your fist higher up and use your own skilled tongue to drag along his vein.
“@$?!~” He moaned and immediately looked down at you with a snarl. An almost threatening one telling you that he wanted more.
And were you planning on giving it to him? Absolutely not.
You stare right back at him and smirk, using the same motion and occasionally sucking the pre cum from its leaky pink source.
“i’m gonna cum” Your eyes welled a bit at the large shaft triggering your gag reflex. But he was close so you would endure the slight pain.
His thrust his hips up a few times and you force your head as far as you could before completely stopping.
“fuck- why’d you stop” His voice was almost a whisper and suddenly thick white ropes shot into the air and landed on his thigh.
“oh i’m sorry, i’ll keep going” You reach for his most sensitive spots, overstimulating him into a nervous laughter as he begged you to stop.
It was fun watching him experience more than he could handle, but all good things come to an end.
He sighs in relief, sweaty, heaving, and dazed.
“can i be freed now?” He asks.
“sure, why not. looks like you’re done here anyway” You shrug.
“who’s done?” He stands up, simply snapping the tie apart.
“oh… you’ve still got more in you?”
“im the milkman, i never run out” He suddenly picks you up and sits on you on the desk. Jesus, these things are strong.
You wrap your hands around your neck, suddenly feeling the arousal for another round yourself.
His hands find your slick entrance, teasing the outside and slipping two cold slender fingers into you.
“mmm!” You mean into the kiss, holding onto his forearm as he fingered you at an inhumane pace. You break away and cat h your breath trying to slow him down a bit.
“i don’t want to cum from this, put it in” You say.
“yes ma’am” He lines himself up without your entrance and slowly pushes himself in with a moan. You could every centimeter of the stretch as he went deeper.
You tapped the back of your head onto the window behind you and felt him kissing on your neck and collarbone.
“fuck you’re big” Your voice slightly shook as you stated the obvious.
“and you’re so warm and wet inside, i ashamed to admit that i almost came putting it in” He chuckled before biting back another groan.
RIIIIING
RIIIIING
You snap your head in the direction of the phone and see D.D.D. calling.
Shit.
“stop, i have to take this.” He halts his thrusts and you grab the phone. “hello?”
“agent number” A deep voice says over the phone.
“5 5 8 4 3 7” You state clearly.
“thank you agent (Y/N), we’re calling about a few M.I.A. cleaners? it says in our system that you were the last to call. is everything alright?”
“ye-es~” You feel something rubbing your g-spot and look over at Francis. ‘stop, now.’ You mouth silently. He just smirks and speeds up.
“are you sure? you sound like you’re being threatened” The man on the phone asks.
“mhm~, im fine sir, just a little shaky” You put your hand over the phone speaker and look at Francis.
“what the fuck is wrong with you??” You ask, interrupting yourself with a few moans.
“just a little thirsty for some water” He thrusts harder, causing him to hit your g-spot, and your clit back to back.
You cover your mouth with your shirt and moan into it, hearing the buzz of a voice on the phone. Honestly you should be scared, they could show any minute, but right now, you could care less.
“im gonna cum” You whisper, still being mindful of the potential listeners.
“yeah?” He grabs a young and stands straight up, slamming you down into his cock. You let out something just short of a scream into the crook of his neck and find yourself twitching and shaking in his grip.
You heard a splash and felt him fill you up with his seed. You both were a moaning, groaning mess, heavily breathing in place.
“(Y/N), do you copy?……. we’re on our way” The phone then hangs up and the low buzzy voice is replaced with a prominent beep.
“you have to go, they’re coming” You lazily try to leave his strong hold with a tired push against his chest.
“but first” He puts you back on the desk where you rest your back against the cold glass window. “a drink..” His tongue grows longer right infont of you, and cleans you from your ankles to your navel, and of course he ran it over the bundle of nerves he’s been abusing all night, making your body jolt.
“you’re so delicious… i wish i could always taste you” His tongue goes back to its normal size.
“well i’ll get going now… i’ll be seeing you again soon, love. i’ll try not to cause too much trouble next time…” He gives you a peppery kiss on the nose and leaves.
summary: One of the newest residents’ very first doppelgänger comes in, trying to sway you into to letting them in. Will you..?
pt.II
art credit (twt: loafuu_chii)
warning: 18+ content
“…what’s the story behind your um… ears(?)” You ask the doppelgänger before you. It was a clone of one of your favorite neighbors actually, her name was Maria.
A woman around your age that you became really close friends with over the few months of you working here.
“@&! !$?&” The doppelgänger let out a series of sounds.
“right, so give me one second” You press the bright red button next to the window and the steel blinds shut with a blaring alarm sound.
You call D.D.D. and they clean up their mess per usual. You once again, you were just thankful you didn’t have to work on that side of the glass.
You check your wrist watch, and happily sigh at the fact that you only had one more hour left to work.
“ mmm, someone’s eager to go home i see” A familiar voice speaks up.
“oh, Mr. Francis” You give the man a polite grin. He gave you a sly one in return. You knew it wasn’t him off the bat. Francis was usually shy towards you, making you want to tease him into blushing whenever you saw him.
Well, you suppose you could kill two birds with one stone. Flirt with the doppelgänger of your crush, and have some entertainment.
“how are you pretty girl” He asks, sliding an I.D. and sheet through the slot.
You examine the documents and identification and beam a smile up at him.
“the date on the I.D. is a little expired hun” You declare. He lets out a small chuckle and leans a little toward the glass.
“mmm, been busy with the milk business, love. must’ve slipped my mind to renew it” He replied. His eyes were low but he still held his sly grin. You leaned back in your chair, with a bored look on your face.
“you’re not like my Francis” You huff and tilt your head with a disappointed look.
His grin faltered and he stepped closer. His breathing had quickened a bit and he took off his hat. “who knows, i could be better” He suggests.
Now that his confidence had depleted a little, you were growing bored of him. You checked the time again and you had 45 minutes left.
“well i’ve gotta get you moving now. it was nice to see such a handsome face though, so thank you” You beam and reach for the button
“you don’t want to do this, trust me” He states with a warning tone. This wasn’t unusual, getting threats after realizing they’re doppelgängers, but being that this one was this aware… they must be evolving.
“and why would i trust you?” You ask out of curiosity.
“i mean look at me” He smirks, one arm leaned against the top of the window. His irises turned from their chocolate brown and into an empty pure white.
“hm” You nod and press the button.
“(Y/N)!” He roared with what you assume was his fist banging the glass.
You call D.D.D. and wait for them to clean their mess, again.
The steel blind begins to lift and you sit back in your seat, checking your watch again but noticed the new pink lighting that shone in.
You furrow your eyebrows and look up in horror as you see blood streaks on the window in thick, and dripping amounts. You jump out of your chair and put your back against the wall.
About 5 D.D.D. workers were piled up, bloody and battered in the corner of the room, and there the doppelgänger was.
Staring at you.
His eyes were low, his shirt was torn, revealing his pecs and the start of his abdomen. He was panting with his (surprisingly still) neat hair and an almost psychotic expression.
“oh no…” He starts with a laugh, still breathing heavily.
“what did you do..?” You cover your mouth with your hand.
“it’s what you did. you got me all riled up.”
He looks down for a brief moment and you swear you hear a zip. He holds his tie and the end of his tattered shirt in his mouth and looks up at you with knitted eyebrows.
His breath fogging up the window as he asks you. Looking like a poor starving puppy. “will you let me in now…? I need your help…” He slightly groaned.
Summary: 25 years old, anxiety-ridden, and still a virgin, you ask your friend Joel for advice on your upcoming date. But you're more of a...hands-on learner. And he's more than happy to help.
Warnings: PWP, unbalanced power dynamics, virgin!reader, neighbor/bff/more experienced! Joel, age gap, first kiss, virginity loss, fingering, oral (f receiving), frequent check-ins, soo much banter and Joel is a menace also so soft and sweet :')....(ends on a cliffhanger but there will be a part two I swear).
w/c: 7.7k idk what happened
a/n: I am resurfacing for your monthly reminder that I do in fact still write!! Inspiration for this came out of literally nowhere but I took it and RAN with it and I think I like it?? As always, thank you to my baby love @undrthelights for helping me with this and always listening to my rambling and for being my biggest enabler Ilysm
Part Two
my masterlist
"Fine! What if, hypothetically speaking of course, you were to, hypothetically, give me a, um, hypothetical, lesson or whatever."
Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel your pulse throb in your neck pound in your ears. You slowly drag your hands away from your face and look at him. He stares right back at you, brows furrowed.
"A what?"
"Forget it. forget I said anything,” you mutter, shaking your head.
"No no wait, hang on, what do you mean? A lesson? Like a…a sex lesson?”
"Seriously, Joel. Fuck off" you snap but with no bite or heat behind it. You bring the sweating bottle of beer to your lips and finish the rest of the now lukewarm liquid off in one gulp.
"What? I just find it hard to believe that you've never even had a kiss. Didn't you go to high school? Didn't you ever get invited to a party? Didn't you go to college? College kids do the do like all the time”
"Clearly not all the time" you mutter, a tad bitterly.
Joel raises his hands defensively and takes a sip of his own beer. "Just seems crazy is all. There's gotta be some chick or dude out there willing to take pity on you and pop your cherry."
You audibly gag at his choice of words. "I don't need a pity fuck, thanks." You stand from the couch and head over to the fridge. The bottles of cold alcohol inside are calling your name and you want something that will help soothe your nerves. You're not a big drinker, but when Joel is prying into your love life like he is now, you wish you were.
"Okay,” he starts from the living room. “Maybe I worded that wrong. What I meant to say was, there's gotta be someone out there who would be more than willing to show you a good time."
You groan and let your forehead fall against the fridge door. "That's the whole point! I came here to get advice for my date, someone who might actually be interested in me, and all you've done is make fun of me for not having fucked anyone yet. So thanks, Joel. You're a real pal."
You push away from the fridge and slam the door shut, a second beer in hand.
"Alright, alright, calm down." He says, hands in the air as if you were holding him at gunpoint as you head back to the couch. "Look, if this guy really likes you then he's not gonna care. Probably won't even be able to tell if you are or aren't."
"You think so?" You ask hopefully.
"Well, I mean, unless you're like... super bad."
Your heart drops into your stomach and you glare at him, "Joel."
"Oh come on, I'm kidding. You're not gonna be bad, okay? Just, go into it with an open mind and just relax. If he tries something you're not comfortable with or makes you feel weird, tell him. And if he gets pissy, dump his ass."
"That simple, huh?" You scoff.
"Well, yeah. You're the one who made it complicated by thinking it was a big deal."
"It is a big deal, Joel! I know nothing!
"Nothing? You ain’t ever watched porn? Jesus, I had no idea you were such a prude."
You can't stop yourself from rolling your eyes and slapping the back of your hand against his arm. He yelps and laughs, rubbing his arm.
"I've watched porn before" you retort.
"What kind?" he asks with a wiggle of his brows.
"None of your fucking business" you respond, feeling your face heat up.
Joel's lips quirk into a shit-eating grin and you're quick to smack him again.
"Okay okay, sorry!" he says through his laughter. "So what exactly are you afraid of?"
You're not really sure how to answer. It's a combination of so many things, most of which are irrational fears and insecurities. Sure you've seen it all done before, but you're well aware that none of it is realistic. At least, not completely. And just the fact that you're freshly 25 years old without a single notch in your bedpost makes you dizzy with anxiety. It's not like you're saving yourself or anything, it's just that hook up culture has never agreed with you and there's never been an opportunity that made you feel like it was the right one. That is until now, with your cute coworker who you thought was miles out of your league asking you out on a third date. And now, the prospect of being in bed with him is looming over you like a dark cloud and the last thing you want to do is mess it up.
"I guess, I'm just afraid that he's gonna be disappointed, or I'm gonna weird him out, or I'm gonna do something wrong and embarrass myself.” Joel nods along and listens. "And if it is bad then we still have to work with each other and then what if it's awkward and everyone knows about it and then he hates me and--"
"Okay, whoa slow down there, buddy" Joel says, putting a hand on your shoulder. "One, you're overthinking this. You're literally thinking like, five steps ahead of what's actually going on. It's a date. And even if it does end up in the bedroom, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. No one's forcing you, okay? He can't. No one can."
"I know, but I want to," you reply quietly.
"Alright. Then do."
"I don't know howwww!! " you whine, flopping backwards into the couch.
Joel groans and sits up a little straighter, scrubbing a hand down his face.
"Well, there's no magic trick, I don't have a secret sex manual I'm holding out on ya."
You sigh, shoulders sagging as you look over at him. The idea comes out of nowhere, well, not exactly from nowhere, but it pops in your head so fast that you then have to bite your tongue before the words bubbling up from your throat come tumbling out.
It's not a bad idea, not necessarily.
You've been good friends with Joel ever since you moved in next door last year. An unlikely pairing, a 40 year old contractor and an almost 25 year old office worker. But after offering him a six pack as part of introducing yourself to the neighbors, you'd gotten along famously. He fixes things around your house and you send him home with hot dinners and warm, gooey cookies.
It's an easy friendship, open and honest and supportive, and Joel has never given you reason not to trust him. He's a good guy, if not a little brash, but you know deep down he means well. And it doesn't hurt that he's objectively attractive, with his tall and sturdy frame, strong, calloused hands, dark messy curls....It's not a bad idea.
It's an absolutely insane idea.
You continue to stare at him, clenching your teeth together to hold back the question sitting on the tip of your tongue.
"What?" he says, looking back at you.
"Nothing" you mutter, eyes flicking away.
"You've got that face you make when you're about to say something really stupid, so just get it out."
You glare at him again, not enjoying the way he can read you so well.
"I wasn't gonna say anything."
"Well now you're lying."
"I'm not."
"You're doing it again!"
"Doing what?!"
"That face!"
"I'm not making a face!"
"Yes you are! Just spit it out!"
You groan and hide your face in your hands. You blame it on the one beer even though you know you’re not anywhere close to being drunk because how else would you justify what you’re about to say? You wait a moment, thinking about the weight of it but your mouth opens before you can stop yourself.
"Fine! What if, hypothetically speaking of course, you were to, hypothetically, give me a, um, hypothetical, lesson or whatever."
Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel your pulse throb in your neck and hear it in your ears. You slowly drag your hands away from your face and look at him. He stares right back at you, brows furrowed.
"A what?"
"Forget it. forget I said anything,” you mutter, shaking your head.
"No no wait, hang on, what do you mean? A lesson? Like a…a sex lesson?”
His eyes are wide, and he looks incredulous. You can't blame him, because the more time that passes between your suggestion and now, the more ridiculous the idea seems.
"I’m sorry, that was…It was stupid. Pretend I didn't say anything. Let's just watch a movie." You move to grab the remote, but Joel's hand covers yours, stopping you.
"Is that what you want?"
You look at him, searching his expression for any sign of disgust or apprehension. But all you can see is the same Joel you've known for months, patient, warm, and understanding.
"I know. I know it's stupid. But I can't get this date out of my head, Joel. It's all I can think about and the more I do, the more worried I get and I just don't want to fuck it up. And I know we're friends and this is weird and gross, but I just thought that... maybe, I could have some practice, so to speak."
He doesn't say anything. Just keeps looking at you, the panic rising in your chest the longer the silence stretches. You start to fidget, wringing your hands together in your lap.
"I'm sorry, that was way out of line" you say, moving to stand up, your skin sweaty and hot with embarrassment and your feet ready to run out the door and never come back.
But Joel catches your wrist, gently pulling you back down to sit next to him.
"Joel" you whine, not wanting him to humiliate you any further.
"It's okay, come here."
His voice is softer than before, and his eyes are kind. You let him pull you closer, the two of you sitting knee to knee. You can't bring yourself to look him in the eyes, not with your cheeks and the tips of your ears burning like they are, but Joel doesn't push. He simply moves his hand from your wrist, sliding it into yours. His palms are rough and warm, and the simple touch alone is comforting.
"You really wanna do this?” he asks softly. You can feel his eyes boring into you. “I mean, I'm not exactly a prize winning catch. And it's not like there's a shortage of willing men out there."
You shrug and chew the inside of your lip.
"Yeah, but you're my friend and I...I trust you."
There's another pause, and you wish that you could just disappear into the couch and erase this moment from your memory.
"How drunk are you?" he asks, glancing at the beer bottle on the coffee table.
"You saw me finish one bottle. And half of another. I’m barely tipsy."
"Not drunk?”
"Nope."
"You're gonna remember this tomorrow."
"Uh huh."
"And you still want to?"
You groan for the millionth time and squeeze his hand.
"Yes I want to! Look, if you don't want to then that's fine. It was just a dumb suggestion and we can just forget this ever happened."
He hums, considering your words. His hand slips out of yours, and you think that's it, you've scared him off and washed the friendship down the drain. That you'll have to hide from him from now on, that you'll have to pack your things up and move because the mortification would be too much, and that he'll hate you, and—
His two fingers sliding under chin surprise you, and he tilts your head up. He's looking down at you with that same even expression, eyes big, soft, and warm as he slides his hand over to cup your jaw in his palm.
"If you want to stop at any point, just say so, okay? I won't be upset and we can go back to the way things were before. Got it?"
You nod, your throat suddenly too tight to speak. His thumb sweeps over your cheekbone, the tender touch is enough to make your heart skip a beat. There’s no way this is actually happening. That your first kiss is going to be with your 40 year old menace of a neighbor. That you’re going to, how did you put it, get a sex lesson from him. His gaze flicks down to your lips and back up to your eyes and you’re positive you’re no longer able to breathe.
"Can I kiss you?" he asks softly. You nod.
You're sure he can hear the thumping of your heart in his own ears as he leans down. His other hand comes to rest on your hip and when his lips touch yours, a soft, tentative pressure, you're not prepared for the electricity that shoots through you.
He's barely done anything and already you feel like you're floating. Your own hands reach out to clutch his shirt, keeping him close, afraid he'll pull away and leave you cold and wanting if you don't. But he stays put, pressing himself against you, his lips working gently against yours. You follow his lead, kissing him back while trying not to overthink it.
It's nothing like the kisses in the movies or the books, where fireworks explode behind your eyelids or where your foot pops up in the air. It's far more subdued, more quiet and subtle. But the warmth that pools low in your belly and the goosebumps that erupt on your skin when his tongue slides against the seam of your lips, light and quick, makes you absolutely melt.
He pulls back before you can really react, and you're left with a dizzying rush of both blistering desire and excruciating anxiety. You want to pull him back in and never let him go. But your heart is beating so fast you can hardly breathe, your nerves are buzzing, and the urge to run and hide is nearly paralyzing.
"Was it bad?" you ask tentatively, cheeks heated.
"No" he replies, giving your hip a squeeze as a smirk plays on his lips. "It was fucking awful. Worst kiss of my life"
"Shut up!" you hiss, pushing him away with a hand on his chest. He laughs, the sound easing some of the tension in your body.
"I'm just teasing" he says, voice dropping lower. "C'mere, we can work on it."
His lips find yours again, and you try not to smile into the kiss but it's hard when you can feel the way his lips are quirked up as well. It doesn’t take much else to get you to relax and let yourself fall into the moment, into the gentle press of his mouth and the warm hands on your hip and your cheek. He swipes his tongue against your lips again, his fingers pressing lightly into the hinge of your jaw to tilt your head back and coax your lips apart.
You let him, sighing as his tongue glides across yours, hot and smooth and sweet. Your hands slide up his chest, finding purchase around his shoulders, and when you move forward, pushing yourself against him, he grunts softly but lets you. He kisses you until the both of you are gasping for air, and when he pulls back, his lips are wet and red and you're certain yours must be as well.
"Better?" you ask, a bit breathless.
"Getting there" he answers with, his breath warm where it fans across your cheek.
"You're such a liar" you say with a goofy smile.
"Yeah, I know. Now try again, practice makes perfect.”
You roll your eyes but lean back in nonetheless. It's a bit more heated this time, the feeling of his teeth nibbling on your bottom lip making you squirm. His hand rounds over your hip, palm smoothing to the small of your back to pull you closer, the heat of his body radiating through your clothes and warming your skin. Your hands move on their own accord, no thought behind the action as they slide up to his shoulders and then his neck, your fingers finding home in the curls at the base of his skull. When you give them a slight tug, you're rewarded with a muffled grunt from Joel. Emboldened, you pull back, lips swollen and tingling.
"You’re a good kisser,” you pant. "Is that something people usually say?"
"When it’s true" he says, grinning at you. "And since I know you're gonna ask, I'd say that was a C+, maybe a B-."
You scoff but blush furiously at the smile he flashes, his eyes crinkling in the corners.
"Well then, tell me what to do next. What do I need to know?"
Joel hums as he thinks for a moment.
"What do you want to do?"
You stare at him for a second, blinking.
"I don't know, that's why I'm asking you" you say, shaking your head a bit.
"Well, how far do you want to take this?"
You swallow hard, suddenly feeling very shy. You can’t deny that when the idea popped in your head it was accompanied by the mental image of you naked, spread out on his bed, but the actual act of asking him, or better yet, actually doing it is... intimidating to say the least. Are you really about to let him go all the way, to see you bare and vulnerable, let him pop your cherry as he would disgustingly put it? All just to “prepare” for a date with a guy who might not even like you that way?
Yeah, probably.
"All the way" you answer. “I want to go all the way”
He doesn’t pounce on you like you expected, doesn’t press his lips against yours in a frenzied kiss that you had half hoped for. Instead, he simply looks at you, his brown eyes boring into yours, searching.
"Are you sure? You can always say no and you're not gonna lose me as a friend if this isn’t what you actually want. I don’t want you thinking that."
You can't help the laugh that bubbles up and slips out, because of course Joel, your kind, thoughtful Joel, would say that. He's a good man. A great one, even.
"Yes, I'm sure. But if you don't, I get it, I can just leave and-"
Joel laughs, the sound traveling up from deep in his chest, the rumble vibrating against you.
"Sweetheart, I wouldn't be doin’ this if I didn't want to. Just makin’ sure this is what you really want."
"I want it.”
He squeezes your hip and swipes a thumb over your cheekbone once again.
“Alright then.” He nods, firm and resolute, and then looks around the room. “ We’re not doing it here, though. If you're getting the full Joel Miller experience, we're gonna do it right.”
Your eyes roll reflexively, but your heart picks up its pace regardless.
"I’m not gonna do anything if you call it that ever again."
"Fine, fine,” he relents. “Let me show you what a good, thorough fucking feels like. Better?"
Your jaw drops, and he's laughing at you, his body shaking with amusement.
"Fuck you" you grumble, shoving him away while trying to hide your coy smile.
"Yeah, that's what I'm hoping for," he says with a wide, self-assured grin.
"I'm leaving" you declare with a false sense of offense as you rise to your feet. Joel is quick to do the same and before you can take a single step away, he slips a finger through the belt loop of your jeans and tugs you back into him, wrapping an arm around your waist.
"I’ll stop, I’ll stop. I'm sorry" he says, not sounding it one bit.
You huff, but let him pull you closer until you’re pressed against his chest and you have to tilt your head back to look at him.
"I’ll be good. I promise."
"Liar"
"Well, yeah. But I can promise that I'll make you feel good."
You can't help the giggle that spills out and he kisses it away, his lips warm and plush and sweet against yours. The hand not resting on your lower back comes up, curling around the nape of your neck and keeping you close. You sink into him, and the fog creeps in again, dulling the rest of the world, making it seem fuzzy and distant, like the memory of a dream. All you can focus on is him, the warm solid weight of him against you, the strong arms holding you, the way his mouth moves against yours. And then he’s pulling back all too soon and you have to stifle a whine.
"Come on" he says, tugging at your hand.
His bedroom is dim, the little lamp on his nightstand and the faint glow of the moon through the curtains providing the only light. You swallow and take a deep breath as you step inside, your bare toes digging into the plush carpet, his hand warm and large where it grips yours.
He holds onto you as he sits on the edge of the bed. You step forward, letting him pull you between his knees. His hands settle on your hips, and you can feel their heat through the fabric of your shirt.
He doesn’t ask if you're sure again and you’re grateful because you’re not sure if you could form any kind of response right now. Instead, he slides his hands up and under your shirt, fingers dancing across your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps. Your breath hitches as his hands smooth over your ribs and around to your back, the tips of his fingers mapping out the curve of your spine, skimming over each notch and bump. They climb higher, the fabric of your shirt bunching around his wrists.
“Can I take this off, baby?”
Your heart jumps to your throat but you nod anyway. He grabs the hem and tugs your shirt up and and you lift your arms so he can slip it off over your head. He tosses it aside, the fabric falling to the floor beside the bed. You’re left exposed, vulnerable and bare, save for the worn out bra you wear, a few too many washes and a few years past its prime.
Your hands itch where they hang by your side with the instinct to cover yourself, hide the imperfections that you know so well, the stretch marks, the softness of your stomach, the way the cups of your bra are just a bit too small and spill over the tops.
But then he’s pressing his lips to the space just above your navel, his scruff tickling your skin and making the muscles in your abdomen jump and twitch. His hands find your waist again, and when his lips continue their path upwards, his palms follow, skimming up your sides, thumbs tracing the outline of your ribs before stopping at the band of your bra.
"This too?" he asks, voice quiet and husky.
"Yeah" you answer with a squeak, and he grins like a kid in a candy store.
His fingers undo the clasp deftness that makes your knees go weak, the straps slipping from your shoulders and the whole thing sliding down your arms, landing somewhere near your shirt.
"God, baby, look at you" he murmurs, his hands cupping the underside of your breasts, his thumbs sweeping over the tops and then down the slope and around your nipple. Your breath hitches, the gentle touch sending a shiver up your spine. "You're fucking perfect."
The praise is unexpected and it sends a jolt of heat through your core. You whimper quietly and his hands are on you again, the calloused palms rough on the soft skin of your breasts. He kneads the flesh, squeezing gently before rolling your nipples between his fingers, pulling and pinching and teasing.
He pulls you closer and ducks his head, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. He looks up at you through his lashes, eyes dark and hooded, and his pupils blown wide with desire.
"Can I?" he asks.
"Please."
He leans in and wraps his lips around a peaked nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub, the gentle heat of his mouth on your skin making your knees weak.
His mouth works on one breast, tongue flicking and teasing while his free hand continues its work on the other. Pleasure builds and coils deep inside, the sensation unfamiliar but certainly not unwelcome. You whimper and he pulls away, releasing your nipple with a wet pop before giving it a sweet parting kiss.
He turns his attention to the other, his teeth grazing over the stiff peak and drawing a whine from your lips. He sighs when your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling at the strands until he groans softly against you. He sucks your other nipple into his mouth, the flat of his tongue pressing against it and dragging up and around, swirling and flicking. You’re already breathless, panting, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on your forehead.
"Feels good, Joel," you whisper shyly.
"I know, honey" he says, a soft smile pulling at his lips when he pulls away. "Feel good anywhere else?"
He doesn't wait for a response, simply slips a hand between your thighs, cupping you through the denim, the simple action making you squeak.
"Here, huh?" he says, the heel of his palm pressing against you.
You gasp softly and nod, biting your lip, too shy to say anything.
"Get on the bed, baby."
You comply, crawling onto the mattress and scooting backwards towards the pillows, sitting at the head of the bed as you watch him. His eyes never leave you as he pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor. Your heart thumps as you stare at his bare chest, his tanned skin dotted with a light dusting of salt and pepper hair. He's broad, his shoulders thick and chest solid. Your fingers burn with the urge to reach out and touch him, so you do, extending a tentative, slightly shaky hand.
He watches you closely, eyes flitting down to the palm pressed against his chest before meeting yours again, his mouth curling into a smile.
"You can touch" he says, reaching down to curl a hand around your wrist and bringing it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the center of your palm before guiding your hand back down to his chest. "I think most people would enjoy that."
"You're having entirely too much fun with this,” you mumble while your fingers spread out across his pec.
"It is fun" he counters, his own hand sliding up the inside of your thigh, thumb pressing against the seam of your jeans and rubbing up and down. "But it'll be more fun once these come off"
Your lips part, a puff of air rushing out.
"You gonna take them off?" you ask, the words slipping out, bold and unbidden.
He grins, his brow quirking up.
"Look at you, being all bossy"
"You like it" you say, finally feeling some of the anxiety slipping away, the familiar and comfortable banter between the two of you slipping into place in a new, unfamiliar situation.
His smile takes up nearly his whole face as moves closer.
“I sure do.”
He looms over you, bracing himself on an elbow next to your head before ducking down to kiss you, his tongue easily slipping into your mouth, warm and insistent. You sigh into it, your hands finding the warm, bare skin of his back, muscles gliding beneath your palms as you slide them up and around, fingertips digging into his shoulders. He's so warm and solid and you can't help the little noise that slips out, a soft, needy moan. You're about to break the kiss and beg him to touch you, give you something, anything, but he pulls back before you can.
"Impatient. I like that too" he says, voice barely above a whisper.
He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then down your neck, his beard scraping against your skin. He continues his path, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses across your collarbones and down the valley between your breasts, his beard tickling your sternum.
His palm presses into the top of your thigh, and you instinctively open your legs for him, his hand immediately moving to cup you through the denim, thick fingers pressing against the seam and the bundle of nerves just below. Your hips rock up, seeking more pressure and he grins, entirely too pleased with himself right now.
You huff, and he laughs, the sound rumbling in his chest, but he relents, undoing the button and zipper of your jeans and tugging the fabric down, revealing the pair of pink panties underneath.
Joel sits up, pulling your jeans down your legs and letting them drop off the side of the bed, the sound of the denim hitting the floor indicating that you've officially crossed a line that neither of you can come back from. But if the hungry, desperate look on his face and the way you're practically vibrating underneath him are any indication, neither of you want to.
"I'll start with just my fingers, yeah?" he says, his hands running up the insides of your thighs, touch light and teasing, the tips of his fingers brushing the edge of your panties. You nod dumbly, at a complete loss for words right now.
He ducks his head, his lips landing on the smooth skin stretched over your hip bone. You squirm, ticklish, and he grins. His mouth is a great distraction from his hand, which has found its way back in between your legs, his fingers now pressing against damp fabric.
"Shit" he curses, his touch firm. "Fuckin' soaked already. Am I just that good?" he quips with a smirk.
"Jesus do you ever shut up" you gripe, but the effect is ruined by the whimper that escapes you when his thumb sweeps up, pressing hard against your clit.
"Oh, that's a pretty sound" he murmurs, repeating the motion to pull out another one, your hips bucking against his hand.
"Now," he starts, his tone shifting to the same one he uses when he's about to impart some life lesson. "This guy you're gonna see, or any man for that matter, should always take care of you before himself. That's just common fuckin' sense. And if he doesn't, you send him on his way" he continues. "Because a man that don't wanna see a woman get off is no fuckin' man at all"
You're about to interrupt, tell him he's an idiot and ask him to please, please, get on with it, but his fingers sliding under the elastic of your panties, swiftly pulling them down your legs steals the breath from your lungs. Your pulse sky rockets and you shift underneath him, crossing your thighs in instinctual effort to hide yourself from him.
"M'sorry I didn't shave or anything" you blurt out, your throat tight with anxiety and embarrassment once again
Joel just shakes his head as he pries your legs apart.
"Baby, I could not give less of a shit about that."
"But-"
"No" he says, the word firm, an edge of command to his tone. "You’re not apologizin’ for that. And if a man gives a shit, he's a fuckin' child who doesn't deserve the honor of bein' between these thighs" he says, pushing your knees further apart.
You nod and bite your lip, the words that are just so very Joel, settling in your chest and easing the tension in your body. You let out a long, slow breath and relax, trying to ease the nervousness.
"There ya go" he says, his fingers dancing along your slit, gathering the slick pooling there. You shudder at the gentle touch, your hips rolling up just a bit before you force them back down into the mattress, trying to keep yourself still.
"Nuh-uh. None of that" he says, immediately noticing the movement. He slides his free hand under you, his palm pushing into the small of your back and encouraging you to move again, to lean into your pleasure. "You take what you want, baby. Show me how good it feels. That's all I wanna see."
You squirm and whimper, the simple, almost lazy touch driving you insane. You've touched yourself before, brought yourself over the edge while imagining what it would be like to have the things you read about and watch in videos happen to you. But you've never managed to make yourself feel this good, never felt pleasure so intense, never felt a burning pressure in your abdomen so demanding that it radiates all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes.
And he's barely touched you.
"How's that feel?"
You can't even form the words, so you just nod and hum, the sound a mix of a whimper and a moan, your hips rolling up against his palm. He chuckles, and then the pressure increases, the friction building, his fingers slipping down, collecting more of your wetness to ease the drag against your skin.
He moves his fingers down, down, down, the tip of one circling your entrance, gathering the wetness pooling there. You whine loudly, any shame and modesty you once had replaced entirely with desperate need and pure desire.
"Please, Joel" you whisper, voice shaky.
"I gotcha" he says, dipping his fingertip in, just barely, and pulling a moan from deep in your chest. "Gonna give you what you need"
You groan, a long, low sound as he slowly sinks his finger into you. It's nothing like your own, so perfectly thick and long/ And you found the spot before, the spot that he curls his finger up into, but never at this angle, never with the perfect amount of pressure that he's applying right now.
"Mmm, look at that" he coos as you clench tightly around his finger.
"Joel, god, feels so good" you whimper pathetically.
"I know, honey, I know."
You clench again, the cockiness and self-assured attitude that usually gets under your skin now ignites your whole body in an entirely different way. He keeps his eyes on your face, watching as your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth drops open, your head tipping back as the pleasure builds.
"Another" you beg, the fullness not nearly enough.
"Greedy girl" he chides, but he pulls his finger out, and slides two back in. You swear that you could come from this alone, but he doesn't let you, the hand that was supporting your lower back disappearing, only to reappear between your thighs, his thumb circling your clit with firm, steady strokes.
White hot pleasure wraps around the base of your spine, the dual sensations of his fingers and his thumb sending you spiraling. The sounds falling from your lips are unrecognizable, high and desperate as your mind goes blissfully blank, your entire focus on the heat coiling in your abdomen. Your eyebrows pinch together and you bury your face in the pillow next to your head, trying to hide the ridiculous expression you're surely making, but you inhale the traces of his shampoo and cologne that cling to the fabric, the scent pushing you even closer to the edge.
You try to hold back. Surely you're not supposed to come this quickly, not just from two fingers and a thumb. Surely that's a sign that you're an easy lay, or too inexperienced, or-
"Just let it happen, baby. I can feel it, Just let go" Joel says, his voice cutting through the thoughts racing through your mind, his fingers crooking inside you and dragging across the spot that makes your hips stutter and a cry fall from your lips.
You can't hold back any longer, the pleasure cresting and crashing down around you. You squeeze his fingers, your back arching, the heels of your feet digging into the mattress as you roll your hips up into his touch, seeking more and more and more. And he gives and gives and gives, working you through it and drawing it out for as long as he can before you melt into the mattress, bones and muscles liquid and warm and satisfied.
He pulls his fingers out, and the sudden emptiness draws a disappointed whine from you, his answering chuckle making you smile.
"That was- fuck" you sigh, not quite capable of coherent thought.
"Absolutely mind-blowing? Yeah I know" he teases. You roll your eyes but don't say anything because it's true, and his cocky grin fades into a soft smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he watches you return to Earth.
"Can I- can I return the favor?" you ask, your gaze flicking down to the noticeable bulge in his jeans.
He grunts and shakes his head.
"Not yet. Got somethin' else in mind."
You frown and push yourself up onto your elbows, watching as he shifts from his position. You're about to ask what he's going to do until he's settling himself on his stomach between your thighs. You suck in a sharp breath as you realize exactly what he's got planned and your heart jumps, anxiety clouding your mind once again.
He rests his cheek on your thigh, his eyes meeting yours.
"Alright?"
You swallow and nod, licking your lips.
"Yeah. Just... no one's ever-"
"Yeah, I got that much, that's why we're here" he says, smiling smugly when you glare at him.
"But what if it's not good? Or I don't taste good? Or-"
"Stop" he says, the single word halting your runaway train of thought. "You need lessons in relaxing, not sex. You're so fucking tense all the time"
"Sorry" you say, immediately cringing.
He sighs, his breath ghosting over the skin of your inner thigh, making you shiver. "What did I say about apologizin'?" he says, his tone slightly sharp.
"I know. Sorry- shit, sorry! Fuck!"
He barks out a laugh and you huff, bringing up both hands to scrub over your face.
"See what I mean?"
"Yes, yes, you're very smart and know everything"
He hums and nips at your thigh.
"Damn right I do."
You want to snark back, but his mouth is moving, his lips trailing down the inside of your thigh and towards where you're aching for him, slick and wet and throbbing. He takes his time, laying kisses on your thighs, hips, and stomach, his scruff scraping the sensitive skin, huffing out a laugh when you start to squirm, your patience wearing thin.
His hands smooth over the soft flesh of your inner thighs, urging you to spread them wider before spreading you open with his thumbs, exposing you completely. You feel exposed, vulnerable, and the urge to close your legs and hide yourself from his gaze is overwhelming, the embarrassment making your skin burn. But before you can even think about closing them, his tongue is on you, sliding up the length of you and circling your clit. The moan that escapes you is embarrassingly loud and high pitched, but the mortification is easily swallowed up by the pleasure.
He hums against you, the sound and the feeling sending a shudder through your body. Your hands grip the pillow behind your head and you try not to buck up into his mouth, but your attempts are futile. He doesn't seem to mind though, in fact you think it spurs him on, his tongue flattening against you and lapping at you messily, the wetness he's coaxed from you smearing across his mouth and chin.
The sound is lewd and obscene, the sloppy, slick noises and the soft grunts and groans that rumble in his chest as he works you up. He pulls back, his breath coming out in pants, his chest heaving as he looks up at you, his eyes dark and hooded.
"Don't know what you were worried about" he says, his voice low and raspy. "You taste fuckin' divine"
His beard is shiny and damp, his lips glistening, hair messy from where your fingers were tangled in it. The sight of him looking so completely disheveled and filthy has you clenching around nothing, the ache almost too much to bear.
He doesn't say anything else, just ducks his head and gets back to work, his mouth moving with a renewed urgency, his hands gripping your thighs and pushing them further apart, allowing him better access.
Your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open, a constant stream of moans and whines and babbling pleas and praises falling from your lips, but you're not really sure what you're saying, not really sure of anything except the intoxicating pleasure coursing through your veins.
You hear him moan, can feel the vibration against your skin, and you glance down at him, and that's a mistake. The sight of him, his eyes closed and brows drawn together in concentration, his cheeks hollowed out as he sucks and nips and laps at you and– is he fucking grinding his hips into the mattress?
You're fucked.
A throaty moan tumbles past your lips as your hips start to rock, a rhythm forming as you chase your orgasm. His hands leave your thighs and he slides one arm up, the weight of it resting against your abdomen to keep you still while his other hand snakes down, fingers dipping inside again, finding the spot that makes you see stars.
"Fuck, Joel, please, oh my god, I'm so- please"
He groans in response, the hand on your stomach pressing down harder to meet the two fingers curling and stroking inside of you. You cry out at the increased pressure right as he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue around the bud, his fingers moving faster and faster. Flames lick up your spine and spread throughout your body, threatening to burn you alive.
Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, knocking the wind out of you and turning your limbs to jello. Wave after wave of blinding euphoria crashes over you and all you can do is cling to the pillow and arch your back, your toes curling as he continues to work his fingers and tongue, happily letting you ride his face and grind into his mouth.
He doesn't let up, not until you're a whimpering, trembling mess, physically pushing his head away when it becomes too much. He pulls back reluctantly, a wicked grin plastered to his face, his chin and mouth absolutely soaked. You're panting, struggling to catch your breath as the aftershocks make you shiver despite the content warmth spreading throughout your entire body.You feel sated and sleepy, a bone deep satisfaction making you feel boneless.
But as you come down from your high, rational thoughts start to filter in and you suddenly remember the reason this all started in the first place.
You're here to learn, he should be teaching you how to please a man.
How to please him.
You watch as he gets off the bed and wipes his chin with the back of his hand. Your eyes shamelessly rake over him, the dusty pink flush that decorates his neck and chest, the curve of his belly down to the impressive bulge in his jeans.
You push yourself up, ignoring the way your arms tremble with the effort. He looks at you, his eyes scanning your face no doubt looking for signs of distress.
"You ok?" he asks, eyebrows pinched together in his typical concerned Joel fashion.
"Yeah" you say, a little breathlessly. "But I still want to..."
Your voice trails off and you glance down at his crotch, hoping he gets the message.
"That's alright, baby. It's a lot, we don't-"
"No" you interrupt, a hint of desperation in your voice. "You said you would teach me. Please, Joel. I-I wanna learn" You hope it's a good enough cover to the fact that you really just want him, your original goal forgotten. "I just don't want to embarrass myself" you add, pouting slightly for good measure, praying to god that he can’t detect the underlying want for him and him only.
He watches you for a moment, seemingly contemplating his decision. And then his eyes narrow, because of course he knows. There's never been an instance where you succeeded in lying to this man. He always, always knows when something is off.
"Alright" he says, a slow smile spreading across his face, something mischievous sparkling in his eyes. "Dick sucking class is now in session"
You groan, your face twisting with visible disgust.
"Oh my god, that was terrible."
"What? It's true" he says with a shrug.
"That is- no, no way. Never say those words ever again. Ever." you say, pointing a finger at him accusingly.
"Or what?" he challenges, taking a step towards the bed.
You gulp and lick your lips.
"Or..."
He waits expectantly for a response. You have none, so you just shake your head and look away.
"Yeah, that's what I thought"
You glare at him and then sigh.
"You're a bully"
"Am I?” He asks, taking a step back to give you more room. “ 'Cause you're the one that asked me to teach ya. On your knees, kid. Let's see whatcha got."
You chew on the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress a grin. You don't know how he does it, but his ability to make a joke or a quip out of anything always has a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, even when the jokes are awful and the puns are terrible. Even when the joke is about you getting ready to suck his dick.
"You're a bully and a pervert" you say, sliding off the bed and sliding to your knees, the plush carpet doing a decent job at protecting your joints.
"And proud of it.”
"Pride is a sin."
"So is premarital sex, so I'll see you in hell, honey"
You snort and look up at him from your place on the floor, grinning widely.
"You're ridiculous"
"You love it"
And that's the thing, isn't it?
Because you do. You love his innate ability to make you laugh, to make you smile even when he's about to take your fucking virginity. He knows how to comfort you, how to put you at ease, when to push you with his teasing and when to pull back and let you take control. You've never met a person who has so effortlessly made their way into your heart.
And here you are, on your knees for him under the false pretense of practicing for a man who's name you can't even remember right now.
You shake your head, the motion clearing the thoughts and the emotions that were swirling in your head, the ones that make you want to stand up and kiss him, kiss him until your lips are numb and you're left gasping for air.
"Joel?" you say his name softly.
"Yeah, baby?"
"Teach me."
Part 2 is already in the works I promise hehehe thank you for reading I hope u all enjoy!!
pairing: dbf!no outbreak!joel miller x afab!reader
summary: a red dress and a glass of whiskey is all it took for Joel to lose every ounce of self control he once had.
warnings: porn no plot, female pronouns, age gap (both consenting adults), unprotected p in v, fingering, creampie, slight creep joel, daddy kink, breeding kink...,mean joel, dirty talk, praise!!!, no use of y/n or descriptions of reader, not proofread
word count: 1.3k words
recommended listening: granite by sleep token
authors note: i'm pretty sure I had planned for this to take place at reader's parent's wedding but i never specified so it's just some fancy event they planned lmfao, enjoy <333
“Quit starin’.” Your father whispered into Joel’s ear, following his eyes to you, his daughter, across the room. “Let's not have a problem tonight.”
“I ain’t.” Joel grunted, taking a sip of the whiskey in his hand as he continued to watch you. “We won’t have any problems.”
He’d spent most of the night trying to decide if you’d worn any underwear under the dress, with a slit that ended right under your hip he was convinced you weren’t but then you’d turn a specific way and he swore he could make out a line. The low neckline left nothing to the imagination and only added to the torture you were putting Joel through at the hands of fashion, he never knew he could be so turned on by someone your age but here he was with a rock hard cock, staring like a creep.
“Whoever that guy with your dad is has been staring at you all night.” One of the girls you’d been standing with spoke, a hint of jealousy in her voice.
You turned your head around, making eye contact with Joel, and looking him up and down. You couldn’t deny the attraction you had for him, and the dark red suit your father had picked out to match the same red of the dresses your mom had picked out wasn’t helping at all. He looked you up and down before making eye contact with you again, taking another sip of his whiskey, and twirling a finger around.
“Joel? He’s probably on a secret mission to keep an eye on me.” You joked, acting like you had stepped on your dress as an excuse to spin around without anyone suspecting anything.
“He can keep an eye on me.” A different girl responded, giggling as they continued to joke about him.
He could’ve orgasmed right then and there as you spun around, the two of you hadn’t spoken all night and yet here you were entertaining him. His glass of whiskey was almost empty, if he played his cards right maybe he’d be able to get you alone, away from the annoying girls you’d been around all night.
You watched him glance at his glass before heading off to what you assumed was the kitchen, he hadn’t made any signal for you to follow but this was your moment.
“What would my dear father think if he knew his best friend was eyeing up his daughter?” You whispered, coming up behind Joel and dragging your nails down his back.
“Does his dear daughter care?” Joel whispered back, setting his glass down and turning around to face you. “Seemed like you quite enjoyed it.”
He trailed a finger over the neckline of your dress, hooking it under the fabric and exposing one of your breasts. A low groan escaped his throat, accompanied by him fixing his suit pants. His fingers found your nipple, rolling and tugging it slightly.
“Seems to me you’re enjoying it a whole bunch.” He chuckled, using his other hand to tilt your chin up, leaning down so your lips were inches apart.
“Fuck, Joel-”
He smashed his lips against yours, swallowing every whimper escaping your lips, pulling the other side of your dress down to expose both breasts. Your hands made quick work of unbuttoning his suit jacket, pulling it off of him and throwing it on the floor, before moving to his dress shirt.
“Naughty girl, lettin’ some old man touch you in a kitchen at your parent’s party.” He spoke against your lips, shoving your dress down to your hips and taking a step back to admire you. “God you’re fuckin’ pretty.”
“Joel, please.” You whined, grabbing at the last few buttons left on his shirt desperately as if it was going to get them unbuttoned faster.
“I haven’t even touched you yet and you’re already beggin’. Fuckin’ whore.” He chuckled, helping you unbutton his shirt and tossing it to the side with his jacket. “Need some dick, huh?”
You shook your head, shoving the rest of the dress over your hips and onto the floor, grabbing his head and smashing your lips back together. His fingers danced their way down your skin, memorizing every bump and curve in the chance that he wouldn’t get to do this again, making their way under your thighs and lifting you onto the counter behind him.
He trailed a finger up and down your folds, gathering your wetness and bringing it to his mouth, groaning at the taste. The sensation of his finger slowly pushing in and out was so overwhelming, you were practically floating on cloud nine and there was nothing you’d change about it.
“Tell me how bad you want it.” Joel rasped, lips pressed up against your ear, removing the rest of his clothing. “Tell daddy how bad you need it.”
“Daddy, please…fuck- need it so bad.” Your words were barely audible, desperate and whiny.
The feeling of his cock pushing inside of you had you throwing your head back, hand slapped over your mouth to muffle any and all noise he’d pull out of you. He pulled back out slowly, watching your pussy grip his cock as he pushed back in. Forbidden sex had never felt so good, he’d find any and every reason to visit you after tonight if he could experience this again. His beard scratched against your neck as he bent over, pulling your body closer to him, sucking and biting at the skin he could reach.
“God, I could make you a fuckin’ mom.” Joel groaned, leaning his head further into the crook of your neck. “Look so fuckin’ pretty, full of my babies.”
“Daddy-”
“That’s right, say my name, baby.” He switched the arm that was bearing your weight and brought the newly freed hand to your hair, tugging it back enough so he could see your face.
His hips pistoned in and out, cock reaching places you didn’t even know it could, but if you told him that he’d make a joke about you not sleeping with a real man like him. He placed wet kisses down your neck and all the way down to your nipples, sucking on them in turns.
“Joel, please, I’m so close..” You cried, eyes filled to the brim with tears that threatened to spill at any moment.
“That’s too damn bad, because that’s not my name.” He chuckled, evilly, wiping away the tears that had slid down your cheeks. “Try again, I know you can do it, baby.”
“Daddy, daddy please.”
“Good girl.”
He brought his thumb down to your clit, drawing figure eights in time with his thrusts, coaxing your orgasm right out of you. You slumped into him as it hit you, body shaking as it made its way through you. He continued to thrust into you, chasing his own white, hot high. Your small whimpers as you came back to the world was enough to send Joel over the edge, painting your insides a nice milky white. His own body slumping into yours as he recovered from the pleasure.
“Did such a good job, darlin’.” He praised, smoothing your hair down as you continued your way out of cloud nine. “Did so good for me.”
You gave him a weak smile, smoothing the hairs that were stuck to his sweaty forehead back to their spot. He sat you back down on the counter and filled his glass up with water before handing it to you, the aftertaste of whiskey was enough to perk you right up.
Joel helped you back into your dress, fixing your hair to cover the hickeys that were soon to appear, sliding your underwear back up but making sure to push his cum back inside of you before sliding them all the way up.
━ stress relief (not really) ,, that's not my neighbor
requested by: –
pairing(s): francis "milkman" mosses x male reader
word count: 2503
warnings: cursing, monster fucking, blowjob
a/n: joining the bandwagon on save the cow, milk the milkman teehee
switching from 3rd pov to 2nd pov for you tumblr gremlins
Looking at the ID and entry request that was pushed into the hatch, you took the bottom folder as you opened the page to flip through to the correct file and make sure the numbers were right on the ID of the individual in front of you. Also sent a quick glance at the list of people who should have been out and saw that yes... he was out.
Honestly, you have been doing this for months now. Miraculously surviving and not letting any doppelgangers in the building. Getting an employee of the month award for doing better than another doorman (Henry) and surviving. You were used to this job already and knew the tenants well even outside of your work hours, but it wasn't wrong to just double-check like always.
That's how you survived after all.
As you looked at the file and read through it, mentally listing the numbers down, a pain went through your head as you let out a hiss.
"You alright?" Looking at the security window, outside the clear glass, the Milkman's (or also known as Francis Mosses) tired eyes looked at you in worry as he tilted his head, a frown on his lips as he looked. You only nodded as you sent Francis a forced smile, not wanting to show any problem with anything. Having to work as a doorman, you should be calm and professional while not showing any weakness unless you want the doppelgangers to use that to their advantage.
"Yeah, it's nothing," You said as you looked back at the ID and file, sighing a bit in relief as you looked at the numbers. Clear. It wasn't a doppelganger... well... sparring a glance at the security window again, you squinted and the Milkman outside and he looked normal... no imperfections whatsoever from what you remembered... so it wouldn't hurt to answer Francis, right? The worried look on the Milkman's face was not one you wanted to see. "Just a headache, that's all."
"Oh... stress?" You let out a snort as you heard that. What else were there? When the lives of multiple people in this building and your own is in the hands of one single individual... one wrong mistake would lead to the whole building being painted in red. With innocent lives slaughtered by a doppelganger that was just unknowingly let in... who else wouldn't be stressed? The D.D.D. didn't give any training prior to this other than an old tape that you had to watch as you were plopped down into the job. It was truly a miracle you survived this after your first shift. No wonder almost 99.99% of the doormans die.
"You know how it is," You shrugged as you put back the folder in its place. Double-checking your checklist and the files you got one last time, you nodded in approval as you sent Francis a smile. "Well, yer all clear," You said as you reached out to unlock the door. Francis nodded in thanks as he disappeared to come in.
You let out a sigh as you locked the door when you made sure Francis came in, you then slouched in your chair. Closing your eyes as you raised a hand and rubbed your forehead to ease the growing pain you were feeling. God, you would love to get a fucking day off one of these days but unfortunately, there is no rest for the wicked... and that means no rest for the doorman as well.
"Are you really alright?" You let out a surprised yelp when you felt someone grabbed your shoulder from behind. You only calmed down when turned around to see it was just Francis who looked at you in worry. "You look stressed."
"Jesus, Francis," You breathed out as you sent out a glare while putting a hand over your heart, breathing in and out as you calmed yourself down. "You scared the shit outta me."
"Sorry," Francis said. "Just worried about you." He added as he squeezed your shoulder gently. Your glare softened after that. You and Francis had been... awkward to say the least. Not after Francis had one day went down on his knees to suck on your dick as you worked. To "relieve stress" and a "thank you" as Francis had said. You were haunted by the happenings of that day. With how the tired Milkman you have been seeing for months just on his knees, underneath your desk and shyly unbuckling your belt and pulling down your pants to suck you off. It was a pretty sight...
Unfortunately, before things got more heated, a doppelganger appeared in the security window to ruin things... which you knew was a doppelganger very well due to... well, it was very awkward when that doppelganger was pretending to be the very Milkman that was milking your dick at that very moment already. Long story short, the D.D.D. was called and both you and Francis (the real one) didn't do anything other than that. It had been awkward ever since as neither of you two talked things out.
"I'm fine, no need to worry," You said, patting Francis' hand on your shoulder as you sent the man a tired smile. "Just a headache like I said... it'll pass."
Francis let out a hum, his tired eyes looking at you as he thought for a moment and then smiled. "Stress, right? How about I help you with that?"
It was like what happened before. Francis was on his knees, tucked comfortably underneath the desk as he was in between your legs. His tired eyes were half-lidded as he focused on the bulge in front of him. Something in his eyes that you can't put a finger to it. Not like you would focus on that when Francis' hands went to grab your inner thighs, rubbing it gently as it seemed like he didn't know what to do before he leaned forward and mouthed at your cock through your pants.
Softly groaning at the sight, you leaned back in your chair as you just watched Francis keep this up for a bit until he was done with the tease to then unbuckle your belt and unzip your pants to pull it down. Nuzzling at the bulge on your underwear as Francis breathed in and softly moaned.
"Taking your time?" You can't help but asked, you weren't really complaining as either way you were getting a blowjob here by the tired yet handsome Milkman. Taking the hat off and putting it on your desk, you ran your fingers through Francis' short brown hair as the man let out a keen noise at your actions. "I don't mind... but someone may arrive soon and you wouldn't want anyone to see you like this, right, Mosses?"
Francis hummed as he looked at you, eyes shining. "Can't I admire you?" He asked as he nuzzled his face back at the bulge, taking a deep inhale as he dug his nails into your inner thighs. "I want to savour this..."
An amused huff left your lips as you stared down at Francis. Something about this man was being affectionate right now and sure, maybe you didn't know Francis Mosses that well as you both had only done this once before and it was even cut short before you could come in that warm mouth of the Milkman but it was rather cute. You didn't expect Francis to have a side like this... unfortunately, you remembered what happened last time as well.
"Well, if we continue with this pace, we might get caught," You said as you pet Francis' head, pausing for a second as you continued. "You can admire later... if you want, we can continue this after my shift..." Hesitant, you were, but you finally said it. And you hoped that if Francis agreed, you both could talk about... you two as well.
"Hm, yes," Francis murmured as he finally pulled down your underwear.
Francis inched closer to your thick cock, gulping the saliva that was produced in his mouth as he stared wide eyes at it. The hand that gripped on his hair brought him back from his thoughts as Francis mumbled a quiet sorry as he then grabbed your dick with his hand. Stroking the shaft as Francis looked up for a moment to see you watching him. You nodded at him and that gave Francis the courage as he leaned close and pressed a soft kiss on the tip, smearing pre-cum on his lips that Francis immediately licked. A pleased hum left his lips as he continued on. Pressing another kiss as he then sucks on the tip, tasting more of your seed. It didn't take long before Francis got down on the cock, swallowing it down in his throat so eagerly.
Francis did have a little bit of trouble as you were rather big and he barely even have any experience of how to take a cock with his mouth, but that didn't stop him. He eagerly descended down huge dick and Francis can't help but moan as he felt the way your cock twitched on his throat. He was even more pleased with himself when he heard you moaning and praising he was doing better than last time.
Francis squeezed your thighs at that last comment with his other hand that wasn't on your dick as he tried to get used to such a large thing inside his mouth, but after a while, Francis slowly bobbed his head up and down on your cock. Softly moaning at times as clumsily sucked.
"Use your hands," Francis heard you say. It took a moment but once he realized what you meant, the hands that stopped their stroking earlier were now back with their movements again, stroking the part where he couldn't fit in his mouth. "That's it."
You can't help but grab a fistful of Francis' short brown hair as you guided the man to suck you more better. Francis was very clumsy and clueless at this like last time... even more clumsy than before honestly but it was fine as the Milkman made up for being very eager. You didn't miss the occasional glances Francis throw your way as he sucked on your cock. It was very cute. Especially when you would give the man praise after catching his eyes, it only makes Francis more eager to suck on your dick more. Truly adorable.
Francis pulls back and gave a kiss on the tip of your cock before sucking and flicking his tongue on the slit, making sure to catch your eyes as he did. Francis knows what he was doing now from what you can tell. It seemed like the man had grown brave after some time on sucking your dick. A loud, deep growl escaped from your lips as you watched Francis take your cock back in his mouth. Fucking tease.
"This is your fault," you grunted as you grabbed a fistful of Francis' hair. You planned to punish Francis for this. Pulling Francis a little bit away from your dick, the Milkman was confused as he whined a little until you pushed his head all the way down. Francis let out a noise akin to choking as he gagged a little at your cock, tears in his eyes. Francis' body shook as his eyes rolled back. Dry cumming from just that. And you realize what just happened.
Shit. That was hot.
"Suck," You commanded and Francis complied, seemingly not mentally present as he did. Francis continued to go down your cock until it hits the sensitive spot in the back of his throat, moaning immediately.
Grabbing the sides of Francis' head, you decided to take matters to your own as you fucked your cock down the Milkman's throat. Using Francis' warm mouth as your own fleshlight and it seemed like Francis didn't mind. Just letting you be as Francis would eagerly suck on your cock.
It didn't take long until you reached your peak as you breathed heavily. Feeling Francis' throat tightened around your cock, you can't help but shove Francis' head down again while you came. Spilling your load down Francis' throat who didn't have a choice but took it. Not like Francis wouldn't have it any other way anyway.
You slumped in yout chair as you let go of Francis' head, breathing heavily as you looked down at the Milkman and was surprised that Francis never break away from your dick. Instead, Francis caught your eyes as the man gave you a grin while your cock was still in his mouth. You were truly surprised. It seemed like Francis had swallowed your cum but you expected Francis to break away and catch his breath, maybe spit out your cum but no... was this the same Francis who had trouble with sucking your dick earlier, right?
You shake your head and decided to just focus on looking at the man who's still on your cock. Taking the time to admire the pretty sight of Francis as you ran your fingers through Francis' short hair, wiping the sweat on Francis' forehead— did Francis always have a mole there?
A cold shiver suddenly spread throughout your body as you looked at the mole on the right side of Francis' forehead. You didn't notice it before as it was hidden from sight with the hat and Francis' short brown hair but... Francis must have, right?
You didn't pay mind to Francis slowly bobbing his head up and down your dick again as you tried to remember if you ever saw Francis had a mole there from the last time the Milkman had sucked you off. That day was hazy for you as you had to deal with Francis literally sucking you off and then deal with a doppelganger that looked like the same man that was sucking you off underneath the desk and then calling the D.D.D. to clean up the imposter...
Yeah... Francis must have a mole, right? You just didn't notice it before. Yeah, that was righ—
"[Name]?"
You froze as you looked at the security window... the individual that was on the other side of the glass window had an all-familiar white attire, "Milkman" on their hat, and tired eyes that looked at you in worry. Similar. So fucking similar.
"You alright?"
Fuck.
The individual outside was none other than the Milkman, Francis Mosses.
"Problem, dear?" You looked down at your legs and you felt your heart drop at seeing the "Francis" that was kneeling in front of you give you a smug smile, your cock still on his— it's lips. "Francis'" hand gripped at your inner thighs, the nails looked more like claws to your mind now as you felt your body shudder. Those tired eyes looked at you with sick amusement. "You looked stressed."
A/N: This is my first time writing smut, I apologize if it isn't that good.
"Mmm..."
You coo, caressing Francis's face as you kissed him on the nose. How adorable he was for a man who didn't care much for others, merely focusing on his work instead of interacting with others.
You felt special, considering you were the only one he opened up to, the only one he'd talk to without shying away.
But it was only right.
You let out a ghost of a smile as you continue caressing Francis's cheeks with your hands, kissing his neck lightly as you felt him tremble by your touch. Every touch of your lips on his skin sent him vocally expressing just how truly sensitive he was, gripping onto the fabric of your clothes as Francis threw his head back, face redder than scarlet milk.
Francis breathes out heavily, his hand going behind your head to grip onto your hair as you continue to litter kisses on his neck without end.
"[Name]-"
Poor Francis, barely even able to speak out more than one word before suddenly releasing a high pitched moan, gripping tighter on your hair as he was caught by surprise by the bite you left on his neck.
Francis's entire body trembles, but he doesn't tell you to stop.
You lick your lips, leaning your head up as you took Francis's chin in your hand and made him face towards you.
He looks like a puppy because of his teary expression and red cheeks. You sigh, how adorable can this man get?
You take his lips into yours, slipping your arm behind his waist as you hum in content, kissing him with vigorous passion that you knew would make him struggle to get air after.
Francis whines, trying to kiss you back with the same passion you were giving him but the best he could do was open his mouth and let you take control, leaning back on the bed he was on.
"Francis.." You mutter his name, breaking the kiss as he panted, his lungs fighting to get air after making out with you for a minute straight.
Your fingers cup his cheek and he leans into your touch, staring at you in the eyes while panting quietly. You smile, pushing him on the chest, forcing him to lay down on the bed as you crawl on top of him.
"I'll take good care of you." You whisper into his ear, your hand already unbuckling his belt and zipping down his pants.
"[Name].. please-" Francis mutters something with a rasp tone in his voice, gazing at you with such doe eyes that activates a bottomless pit of hunger, of lust, in you.
You pull down the last barrier that covered his dick, your eyes swirling in lust as it leaked pre-cum, the tip flushing a light flustered pink, sensitive to your touch.
"Relax, I'll make you feel good tonight, okay?" You whisper in a gentle tone, already rubbing his dick up and down with your hand, eager to make him orgasm within 5 minutes.
You wanted to break him, hear him scream out your name when he cums.
He was simply just so adorable.
Your pace increases, and you feel the slightest twitch of Francis's dick in your hand as he suddenly whimpers, moaning out words for you to slow down.
"Wait- Wait- Mmmm.. [Name] please- go slow!-" Francis chokes on his words as you did the complete opposite of what he wanted, throwing his head back, his hips thrusted up to match your pace. His eyes rolling back, as the only thing that came out of his mouth were broken moans.
"Haa.. Ha-" Francis grips onto the sheets, letting out a chorus of "Ah, Ah, Haa~" completely letting you know he felt good.
You exhaled, trying to control yourself as you felt yourself get even more aroused just by listening to how lewd his sounds were.
"Shit, fuck.. you drive me crazy." You groan, nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck, biting on his skin; pumping even faster.
Faster.
More.
You needed to hear more of him.
"Fuck- Cum for me, Francis." You utter, feeling his dick twitch and convulse at your words. Just a second after, you immediately felt warm and sticky cum dropping on your hand as Francis let out a loud moan of your name.
Your eyes blurred with arousal, wanting to break him more.
"[Name].." Francis whispers out, but you shush him before he could say anything else.
You smile, getting on top of him as you pull down your pants. Rubbing your pussy on the tip of his dick as you used his cum to lubricate your insides.
Francis just stares at you, panting. His hand on your back, but he was mostly curious on what you were doing.
"I can help you.. if you wan-" Francis's eyes widen, letting out a sudden moan that cut off his sentence as he felt his dick enter your warm and wet pussy. He gripped hard on your hips, whining in pleasure as he felt your walls tighten even more around his cock.
Francis wasn't even fully in yet but he already felt like cumming again.
"[Name]. [Name]. [Name]. Fuck- fuck.. you feel so good, sugar.." Francis whines, thrusting his whole length inside of you. Moaning in the process of doing so, almost cumming when he felt your pussy clench so hard on his dick.
You pant, wrapping your hands around Francis's neck. Letting yourself rest for a while before raising your hips and dropping down on his dick.
"I'm gonna milk you dry.. Mr. Milkman."
Francis groans at the name, his dick twitching as he imagined you taking every single drop of his seed, he imagined filling you up to the brim.
You ride on Francis's dick at a fast pace, wet slapping echoing throughout the room as skin met skin.
Francis moans, changing his hold to grip onto your ass, his head burying into your neck while you bounced on his cock.
"Sugar.. you're taking me so well." Francis mutters softly, completely in bliss by how good your pussy felt.
You moan, your pussy clenching at his words. Despite him being the bottom this time, he still had a way of making you feel like you were the one being submissive.
A frustrating feeling grows in your stomach, wanting to show Francis that you were supposed to be the dominant one.
You clenched tighter on his dick, increasing your pace as you made sure he completely felt every inch of his dick get swallowed by your pussy.
Francis mutters something under his breath, completely lost in pleasure as he moaned in ecstasy, cumming in you for the second time.
You pant, continuing to ride Francis even if he already orgasmed, you wanted to show him that you were more than capable enough of giving both you and him pleasure.
"Sugar, wait- agh- haa~ slow down.." Francis tapped on your hip, grunting and moaning as he felt your tightness.
You moaned, leaning backwards as you rode Francis as if he was a mechanical bull for you to conquer.
Just a few seconds after, you feel Francis cum another time, whining and whimpering, begging you to stop.
"A little more.." You say, panting. Ignoring the feeling building up in your stomach as you tried to at least make Francis reach another orgasm before you finish.
"Sugar- God, if you don't stop- Ngh~" Francis's voice crumbles, his tone deep but filled with cracks as it was raspy and tired.
"More.."
You feel yourself almost cumming, and you moan. Throwing your head into Francis's neck as you slammed yourself down on him and bit down on his neck.
Francis pulls on your hair, gasping in surprise as he felt your body shake above him, his cock does the same, twitching and pulsing because of how intense you were clenching down on him.
"You're going to kill me one day, Sugar." Francis mumbles, running his hands through your hair as he grabbed a strand and kissed it.
You whine, still not getting off his cock, your body too tired to even move.
"I just missed you.. you've been gone for so long because of work, and you look like you haven't even gotten enough sleep." You complain, caressing his face as you leaned on his shoulder.
The tips of Francis's lips turn upwards, a soft yet baffled chuckle escaping from his mouth.
"Mmmm.. I didn't realize you missed me that much, you should've told me, Sugar.. I would've come home immediately." Francis places a kiss on your forehead, lifting you off his cock as cum dripped from your pussy to his thighs.
Francis puts two fingers inside your pussy, scooping a load of your cum before putting it in his mouth.
A satisfied expression appears on his face as he swallows, pecking you on the lips before saying something that makes you mumble in embarrassment.
"Much better than milk." Francis laughs out, kissing you on the lips with complete gentleness.
"Now let's get you cleaned up.."
You hum, gripping onto him tightly as he lifted you up and carried you to the bathroom.
Let's just say, you both did much more than just clean yourselves up in the bathroom.
☆ amab! Switch! Francis Mosses / gn! Switch! Reader
☆ Reader can have either amab genitalia or a strap
☆ soft sex
☆ implied Russian speaking Francis
☆ short
☆ a little bit of a twist in the end
☆ author has played Not My Neighbor
°○☆nsfw under the cut☆○°
Francis was usually a laid back person who had a hard time showing any physical reactions to his feelings (not out of being stoic, usually he's just a little too tired to smile when he's happy or scream when he's scared). He wasn't one to smile all the time, but he showed his affection through other means. Like walking behind your back and kissing the nape of your neck and whispering "Золотце" (darling) behind your ear.
Or offering you some of his milk from work that his job wasn't able to sell so that you both could make something together or eat cereal together. There are a lot of doppelgangers everyday, everywhere, so he really cares about you. Even when he's usually too tired to express it with his face, he'll do so with his actions.
D.D.D. Is a pretty strict, so you and him made it an effort to always do everything required. If he forgot his hat at home he'd have a spare at work. You'd both work on your entry requests and always keep your ID's with you and to try to make an effort to always add your names on the list. Even if there would be an emergency at work. Just some extra measures to ease his anxiousness. And yours.
Other than that, being with him is always sweet. Like a warm mug of milk on a cold day. Steaming and keeping you warm.
Not to mentioned the sex with him. God. There's something about him and sex that makes you glad he's yours and yours alone.
His fingers are long. Not that thick, but he knew how to use them. Keenly observing your reactions within each prod as his digits brushed against a bundle of nerves that has you clutching his neck tight and holding him closer to you as he whispers "Куколка (dolly)... mmm... look at you"
He's not as verbal but he certainly has a smile on his face when he pleasures you and gives you what you want. Stroking and rubbing st your junk, it's wet. Thanks to him latching his mouth on the organ so that you could cum a couple times beforehand. He just wants to make you happy not gonna lie.
Oh, but sometimes he'll end up being a little too tired from work and not have the stamina to move at all. Not to worry! He'll be your pillow princess for the night. He loves those nights. You'll kiss his forehead softly whilst you thrust inside of him. A slow, passionate pace. You're slowly rearranging his guts while he holds the sheets so tight you'll fear they might rip in the morning.
He's a hummer. He'll hum and murmur stupid when he's fucking you. Or when you're fucking him. Phrases like "mmm... oh... З-Золотце... mmmmnnn..."
He can't help it! Even if he tried. He got shy about it actually but when you do engaged in sex more he felt like comfortable doing it. Honestly it's adorable.
Especially when he's giving oral. He's humming and drunk on the taste of you and he's always humming and moaning softly as you use him, and it feels so good. The added stimulation is so goddamn heavenly. And he's always good. He'd never tease and he never uses his teeth. He doesn't mind though if you do it. He's flexible with your desires. As long as if it isn't extreme or legitimately disgusting.
You love him so much and he loves you too and the entire building definitely knows.
...
So when he comes home with an odd demeanor. As if he's forgotten everything you two shared previously, as if hes a totally different person, you'll only have yourself to save before it's too late.
Synopsis: You were fine with the job, the steps were easy enough but the secret of the D.D.D was getting harder and harder to contain. Each night a new entity would enter the building, each with its own horrific look and intentions. Just as you debate on leaving, a new resident has entered the premise; Francis Mosses who is absolutely entranced by your being. Not only that, it seems his “mimic,” is obsessed with you too.
Will you be as smitten of them as they are of you? In the end, who will you choose? Only time will tell.
Oh, Mr. Mosses I
It was simple: check the ID, match the numbers and appearance, ask them questions to form an alibi, push the red or green button. Yet, as she stared at the blood soaked neighbor, she reconsidered her options; the job at hand. He was scratched, bruised and covered with layers of dried blood.
The smell seeped through the glass somehow, spoiling her thoughts and pushing away any rhyme or reason. She gagged, carefully covered her mouth and started her task at hand.
“Mr. Peachman,” She began, a cough flooding her senses, “The… blood, are you okay?”
The said man did nothing but stare back, his unwavering eyes were bloodshot and wide. Finally letting a cough escape her she glanced towards the lockdown button, until a bloodied and battered hand slammed against the window in front of her.
“I'm real,” He said. “I'm REAL, REAL REAL REAL,”
“Mr Peachman-” “REAL, REAL REAL,”
Quickly she pushed the lockdown button, a metal screen blocked her vision from the man and she quickly slid her fingers over to the dial, calling the D.D.D as quick as her shaking hands would let her.
“Hello, yes, there's an intruder on the base floor, no, yes he is sealed, okay thank you.”
The wait was the worst part. How eerily silent everything got and then a knock. Three taps were signaled on the metal casing to let her know the job had been done, the neighbor had been confiscated.
With a sigh she leaned forward, just until her forehead pressed against the wooden desk, scratching it lightly with each intake of breath she let in. It was hard, keeping this from the other residents. Sometimes they would ask, question why there would be random alarms, random screaming. She would start to sweat, always responding with the same thing. “Ah well we are in a busy city, afterall,” most of them would take that answer, although hesitantly.
There was a new face amongst the regulars, he was quiet she noticed. Most of the time she wasn't on schedule when he ran through, but she would see glances of him from time to time, always leaving before her shift. In all white he had a somewhat of a thin build, his shoulders were strong, firm against the buttoned up shirt that he seemed to wear everyday. His eyes were tired, more so than hers and she wondered if that was because of his job or him.
The night had started off bleak, a neighbor came in with sewn up eyes and a mouth, she didn't even attempt to ask it a question before shutting down the doors and calling the D.D.D. They didn't do as clear a job as they normally would, splatters of blood littered the wall in front of the main desk and she winced. She'd have to clean that up later.
Rubbing her temples she let her eyes close, maybe within the month she could afford to quit, to move and find another job, another life. Maybe she coul-
“Mmm. Hello.” A deep and somber voice broke her out of her thoughts, with a jolt she glanced up, only to be met with tired eyes and a light frown. “Ah, hello Mr,” She glanced at the schedule
“Mosses,” he muttered.
“Mr. Mosses, yes, it's nice to meet you, I always see you around but, it seems are schedules are always the opposite.” She was rambling, a bad habit she found when reading and comparing ID numbers.
“Yes, it's nice to meet you.” Seeing nothing wrong she finally glanced back up to meet his gaze.
“Everything looks in order Mr. Mosses, you're free to go!” She smiled, slotting the paper through the thinly made entrance.
“Mmm, thank you.” Without meaning to, his fingers collided with hers, his fatigue was weighing on him and he could feel his face flush with embarrassment. With his paper back in his wallet he shuffled awkwardly before returning his gaze on the woman. She was pretty, he noticed, too pretty for a place like this. Her hair perfectly framed her face, her eyes, although tired were beautiful, he couldn't stop himself from staring until a clear of her throat broke him of the trance.
“Are you okay, Mr. Mosses?” He winced, he hated that name, although it sounded pretty coming from her lips.
“Francis,” He whispered, unable to break free of her, her arms, hands, neck, jesus those-
“Francis,” She smiled. He swore he could die happily right there, in that miserable outfit with his miserable job, he could go happily as long as he could look at her.
“Have a good night, hope to see you soon!”
Walking away he felt shame, said nothing but nodded his head as he mashed the elevator button. All he did was stare like a freak, someone like her would never be romantically involved with him. He’s a milkman for god's sake, and yes, they're still around.
Walking to his floor he swore right then and there, he would change his whole schedule if he could just see her for seconds at a time.
A/N:
Hi everyone, I hope you liked the first part to the series! I love this game and it’s mysterious neighbors so I wanted to take a shot and write about everyone’s favorite milkman. I’m trying to write him to be obsessed yet in love, I don’t want it to be overwhelming or weird. A quick warning this series will get more heated and violent, as the mimics do have murderous intent.
Thanks for all your support and the next part will be up soon! Much love, TrulyUmai
Reader/Francis Mosses (she/her used for reader, reader is described as having female genitalia)
Posted on my AO3 as well
Title from Elton John's Your Song
TW: None that I can think of! I think this might be my first vanilla fic?
Your boyfriend is typically too tired for sex, but tonight he wants to remind you how special you are to him
Francis’ girlfriend was used to him not initiating sex, after all he was her sleepy baby. She couldn’t even properly figure out the last time they had sex, it had to have been a month or so ago. She didn’t mind, her fingers were expert enough at making her cum and they had other ways to show love for one another. A love note here or there, tired cuddles that make him almost late in the morning, remembering small details about each other that people would typically overlook -- so many ways they had grown to show love.
When her boyfriend finally stumbles through the door he lets out a hefty sigh, getting her attention from the small television sat in front of the couch. His eyes find hers, they always do regardless of the room they’re in. A small twinkle appears in his eyes, a small twitch of his lips, a visible weight is removed from his shoulders as he walks over to her. He flops onto the couch, an arm finding its way over her.
“Long day, hun?” She asks, leaning against him.
“Always is.” His answer is short, indicating just how tired he is. He leans down, nestling his nose into her hair. He inhales his home, his other arm going around her waist and enveloping her into a sort of hug.
“Hate to hear that.” She reciprocates the hug, resting her head against his shoulder, her nose resting against his neck. Her thumbs rub small circles on his waist, pressing small kisses on the skin his white button up exposes.
Francis hums, removing his hat before placing his arm back over her as they cuddle up on the couch. It’s not the most comfortable, he would be fine going to bed but he has a plan in mind for tonight. He’s wanted to do this for a while, but he’s always been too exhausted. “It’s quite alright, I do get to come home to you, after all.” He presses a kiss to the top of her head, his lips lingering for a moment.
“Always the charmer, huh?” She quips, though the way her cheeks flush show just how charmed she is just by the simple sentence. She has always found solace in his loving words, no matter how cheesy they were.
He laughs, the tired sound like music to her ears. “Mm, I have something more in mind to charm you; something to show you just how special you are to me.” His voice is a warm murmur as he pulls away from her, kissing her neck before sinking to his knees in front of her. The grin plastered on his face is more than enough to send a bolt of arousal through her body. Her eyes never waver from his as she shifts on the couch. He delicately takes her legs,his hands trail down the exposed flesh until they reach the waistband of her shorts and gives the fabric a slight tug. It’s just enough to give her the hint -- that she needs to lift her ass so he can remove them. She gets it immediately, allowing him to remove the soft fabric. He places them beside him and licks his lips. The soft pink of her panties inviting him and teasing him. “So pretty…” He takes her legs and places them over his shoulders, leaning in and kissing the pretty pink covering her pussy. A gasp leaves her instantly, a hand going up to her mouth. She’s always been sensitive, something that Francis adores. He inhales the sweet scent just barely covered by the fabric, his eyes fluttering closed.
“C’mon…” She whispers, one of her hands going to his hair. The locks of brown are so soft through her fingers. She doesn’t mean to be impatient, she really doesnt- it’s just been so long that it’s so tempting to get straight to the main event.
“Can’t be patient for me, can you, darlin’?” He asks, pulling away and looking up at her. A crooked grin on his lips. His eyes still look so tired, but so attractive. He doesn’t mind, this is for her after all. He rubs his thumb over her sensitive nub through the fabric. “Sorry, my love, how long has it been since you came?”
His blunt question catches her off guard, causing her breath to hitch. “I-I don’t know.” She stammers out. “A week? Maybe?”
“Far too long since your last session then, huh?”
“I couldn’t find the time.”
“I’ll make up for lost moments then, my baby.” He whispers, tugging the underwear to the side and exposing her glistening her cunt.
She swallows and nods, letting out a breath of air and tugging his face close to her bare pussy. “Please… Please, Francis.”
A low moan leaves him, kitten licking at her slit and allowing her sweet arousal to coat his tongue and lips. His thumb rubs lazy, small circles on her clit. His brown eyes gaze up into hers, enjoying the look of immediate gratification on his lover’s face. Her eyes are half-lidded in enjoyment and her hips grind upwards against his tongue. His tongue enters her cunt just enough so he can feel her tremble around him. Her thighs tighten around his head, earning a groan of pleasure from him as he knows he’s pleasing his beloved. He mumbles something indecipherable against her cunt, his eyes closed as he starts to circle her nub with more vigor. She’s close, he knows she is as her heels dig into his back.
She tugs his hair desperately, gasping and moaning. Her back arches off the couch, the hand that’s not tugging his hair goes to cover her mouth so the neighbors don’t hear the sounds escaping her.
Francis tuts and pulls away just enough to talk, her love making his lips glimmer wetly. “I want to hear you, my darlin’, I want to know how you feel.”
“Please don’t stop~!” She moans loudly, whimpering afterwards at the minor embarrassment that comes from knowing the neighbors must hear something. He doesn’t offer any words back, going back to eating her out like his life depends on it. “Fuck!” Francis sighs and moans as her slick coats his tongue deliciously. He licks her through her orgasm, his nose brushing her clit as she grinds her climax out.
“Good girl, good girl, good girl…” He praises as he pulls away, her legs slip off his shoulders and remain trembling for a few moments. He leans up to kiss her, she can taste her own cum on his lips. She doesn’t mind, of course she doesn’t, as she kisses him back. When the kiss is over, they’re both slightly out of breath before she chuckles.
“Let’s go to the bedroom, hm? I’d love to give you something special too.”
--
AH it's been too long since I wrote smut so I'm a little rusty, but this man (along with a couple others) has completely stolen my heart and the game has quickly became a comfort to me. I have a plan for a doppelgänger!Francis fic but who knows when it'll be out AND it'll certainly not be vanilla lol
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