#doppelganger x reader

[insomniac-hours]

07 // Alternate

This is part of my Yantober writing list Bennett the Doppelgänger Tw; Get cared for nerd, ex-lover death mentions, impersonation, mention of suicide baiting THIS IS LATE IM SORRY

Doppelganger Yan that is terrible at its job, not even hiding that they aren't your lover.

Why would they? Your lover was a piece of shit anyways, offering you up to a monster so that they could live. They couldn't stand the thought of pretending to be them.

Doppelganger Yan that doesn't even try to hide that they aren't your lover, but wears their face for a day or so just in case.

Doppelganger Yan that slips up at the most inconvenient of times not even realizing that they had accidentally dropped the face as you don't even freak out.

A dark face, no features aside from the eyes, covered in shadows that stares at you tiredly from the couch.

Doppelganger Yan that is pleasantly surprised at your indifference, deciding you belong to it as your ex clearly failed at satisfying you in any way, acting like a roommate that you didn't ask for but now have.

Want food? It'll make you dinner, whatever you want with leftovers for the next day. Dishes? They already did them, yes even the ones you used. Can't take your pet out on a walk or out of their enclosure? They'll take care of it, reluctantly though.

Doppelganger Yan that protects you from other doppelgängers, whether its following you out while having a hand on you.

Or scenting you with something like their hoodie.

Doppelganger Yan that will always encourage you to stay home and spend time with them but isn't against you going out with friends, as long as you send updates.

Doppelganger Yan that spends majority of their time lazing around, sleeping or gaming, only ever getting up if you want to do something or are hungry.

Doppelganger Yan that isn't above stealing anything, whether from neighbors of yours that deserve it or simply from that one store you went to.

Doppelganger Yan that definitely uses your ex's money, why wouldn't it when they're dead anyways?

Doppelganger Yan that will record your voice so that they can replay it when stressed or struggling to sleep.

They will rarely use your own voice but if it's essential, they will to calm themselves.

Doppelganger Yan that is only truly sweet in your presence, anyone else can kill themselves and they WILL make sure to help tie the noose.

[d-a-n-n-y-y]

Seen some of these types of francis fanarts where he killed those D.D.D guys so i thought i make one myself🔥/hj

(edit: original😭)

[eternityofend]

Another type of milk.

PAIRING: Francis Mosses x Female!Reader ( Slight Doppelganger!Francis Mosses x Reader. )

Requested: Can I request something for Francis, the Milkman? Like the scenario is: Y'all be talking then, they do it under the desk while the reader is working?

MDNI +18, NSFW.

You scroll through your phone, time ticking with each passing second as you get even more bored. Your job as a doorman was nice however the hours needed to work were plenty enough of time for you to wish you had never taken up such a job in the first place.

You hear a tap on the window as you see Francis in front of you, holding a carton of milk in his hands, his movements were sluggish and his eye bags were darker than when you last saw him.

You ignored the concern building in you and tried to find your wallet to pay for the milk you ordered from Francis, keyword: tried. You frantically searched your pockets and the drawers but there was no sign of a leather wallet in all of the places you searched.

Francis stares at you with a blank expression, completely minding his own business as he didn't question the amount of time it took for you to find your wallet.

"Hey.. can I pay you up in a different way?"

Francis raises his eyebrows, skeptical about your request but nods his head; far too kept up with how much time this delivery was taking. He wasn't used to social interaction anyway, he just wanted to get out.

You motion for him to come into your office, opening the gate for him and closing it once he went through.

A few minutes later, Francis knocks on your door and you let him in, he's still holding onto the carton of milk which you help him put on your desk.

"Mmmm.. so what's this different method of payment are you talking about?.." Francis mutters, his voice husky with the tiredness he felt from his job, tone as curious as ever.

You walk up to him, putting your hand on his chest while smiling innocently.

Francis looked at you with a curious expression, gulping as he was nervous about what you were going to do with him.

Francis looked at your eyelashes, and your pretty eyes, trying to distract himself from the weird thoughts he was thinking; perhaps he was watching too much inappropriate stuff, he should limit himself on that.

"Do you live alone?" You asked, knowing well what his answer would be.

Francis tore his gaze away from you, now staring at your wall. "Yes.."

He hears a small laugh come from you, and his body feels tingly with extreme nervousness. Why were you laughing? Did you expect him to have a roommate or something?

"So you have no one to milk you at home then?" You whisper in Francis's ears, watching him tense up as he caved in to your voice and touch.

You saw the way his knees trembled to hold onto his body, cheeks turning redder than the scarlet milk he frequently delivers.

You put a hand on his cheek, making him look at you with a smile on your face. "Let me help you, that's my payment." You utter, watching his eyes widen as he came across a conflicted statement-- not knowing what to choose.

You really didn't have to wait long.

Francis stares up at you, hand on his mouth as he leans against the wall, ears flushing with blush as he attempted to conceal his noises from you, afraid of someone hearing.

You rubbed your shoe against his bulge, looking at him with a mischievous look on your face, wanting to make him cum from a dry orgasm before you fully fuck him.

"Ah~ Hnn~ Ngn~" Francis moans out, his sounds muffled by how hard he was biting on his hand, throwing his head back at how lewd your method to pleasure him was.

His eyes were teary and his cheeks were flushed, he looked as if he already got fucked by you even if you hadn't advanced that fast yet.

You grin, pressing on his erection with the heel of your shoe-- enjoying the way he stuttered, gripping onto your leg with his free hand.

A tap on the window stops you from admiring him longer, and Francis panics. He couldn't run out because it would be suspicious if the visitor were to see someone come from below your desk, he didn't want to spread rumours as well if someone recognized him.

So he just sat there, both hands covering his mouth.

Wait.. what were you doing?

Francis bites onto his hand, heart pulsing as he felt your shoe rub more against his dick, you were crazy! Why were you still continuing?!

You grinned, twirling your hair as you faced a doppelganger of one of the visitors, not even having to check the ID to know it was a doppelganger.

You had to admit, it sure mimicked the resident properly, but if it weren't for the real Francis already being below your desk, you would've let the doppelganger of Francis in, there were barely any differences as well.

"Oh? My appearance..? I don't quite follow.." The doppelganger muttered, trying to keep calm as he felt rage from how fast you figured out he was a doppelganger.

You were not only a pretty doorman but a smart one too, the doppelganger held back on transforming, wanting to see if he could still convince you that he was the real one.

You chuckle at the doppelganger's confused expression, adding a bit more pressure to your shoe as you pressed on Francis's erection, hearing a small moan come out of him.

The doppelganger's eyes widened, looking around as he was confused at where the noise came from.

What a shame, you'd so tease the real Francis using the doppelganger if only you weren't allowed to spread the fact that Doppelgangers existed.

"I'm sorry, but I don't quite think I can let you in."

You rang the DDD and let them handle the situation, completely forgetting about Francis beneath you, trembling at how much pressure he was receiving.

By the time you remembered about him, you were already finished with the doppelganger situation, seeing him all teary and red just from your shoe.

You laugh, lifting his face up as you stop rubbing your shoe against his dick, grinning at him with a new idea in mind.

"Let's start with the milking process now, shall we, Milkman? But first, why don't you eat me out first?"

You catch his flustered expression as he nodded, moving his hands all the way to your thighs as he got rid of your panties.

Francis moves closer to your pussy, licking on it as his eyes widened from the taste, it was much different than the milk he was used to.

You let out a breathy moan, spreading your legs wider as you felt Francis shove his tongue straight into you, eating you out as if he was a man that was starved for years.

His tongue flicks against your clit, and you let out a full moan, suddenly closing your thighs around Francis's head, he didn't seem to mind however.

"Shit... you sure know how to eat pussy.." You mumble, biting on your lip as you run your fingers through his hair, enjoying the sensation of his cold wet tongue.

Francis's hooked nose makes you moan as it pressed against your pussy because of how close he was.

You moan, throwing your head back when you feel Francis's tongue licking on your clit, lapping it up as if it was water.

Your grip on his hair tightens, clenching down on his tongue as you orgasmed.

Francis moans beneath you, the vibration running across your entire body making you shake and tremble.

You breathe out, your pussy pulsing while Francis explored your insides, eager to drink up all of your cum, not letting a single drop go to waste.

You pull Francis's head away to face towards you. And the moment you see the expression on his face, your pussy twitches at the sight. His eyes are half-lidded, staring at you while his tongue and mouth were filled with your cum.

Francis smiles, and swallows your cum right in front of you, making you bite your lip from how aroused you were.

"We aren't done yet, Milkman." You grin.

But apparently the story is done! I hope you enjoyed the story, this is my second time writing smut :)

[little-writers-posts]

Keeping You Warm (The Milkman x F!Reader)

Author's Note: It's been a long (LONG) time since I wrote smut, so please excuse anything, plus English is not my native language so I apologise for any mistakes. But I do hope you enjoy this!

Warnings: MINORS DNI 18+ Smut. However, it's quite light/soft, so to speak. The reader has a female genitalia.

Word Count: 1.957

“Double shift again, Francis?” I asked over the phone.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N).” I heard Francis’ tired voice say in almost a whisper.

“Is there really no other person who could take the shift? It’s the third time this week, Francis. You’re killing yourself.” I sighed as I rested my head on my hand.

“Not really; everyone has been quitting lately because of the rise in the number of the doppelgangers' sights.” I heard the sound of glass bottles clattering in the background.

“Just… Don’t push yourself too hard, okay? You’re already tired and worn out. I understand that there’s a job that needs to be done, but you’re human.”

“I know. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of myself. Don’t wait up for me, okay? Get your rest. You need it more than I do. Bye.”

“Bye.” I hung up the phone, lowered my head, and laid it on the table.

It has been nearly two weeks since I last saw Francis, which is foolish since we live in the same apartment. However, due to our jobs and taking shifts, our schedules haven't been exactly the same. It’s actually gotten worse because he’s been taking double shifts to cover the lack of people, and now he has to deliver the milk and stay an extra shift preparing all the packs for the next day, which means not only collecting the empty bottles but also refilling them and sorting them out in the boxes. We only see each other when the other one is asleep since I start my shifts early, and he only gets home quite late.

As I was lost in thought, someone knocked on the window. Steven was waving his papers to get into the building.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, proceeding with my work.

Eventually, my shift ended, and I went to my and Francis’ apartment. While setting down my things, I checked my schedule for the next day, and a big smile spread across my face. It was a day off. I decided to wait up for Francis, so for the next few hours, I occupied myself with getting dinner ready and tidying up the house. When I ran out of things to do, I sat in the living room watching one of my favorite shows.

It was past midnight when I heard the keys to the front door. Francis walked in looking as tired as ever, sighing as he locked the door, the tension leaving his shoulders at being home becoming visible.

“Welcome home, love,” I said, getting up from the couch.

“I told you not to wait up, (Y/N),” Francis whispered as he wrapped his arms around my waist, holding me tight.

“I’m not working tomorrow, so I thought I would wait for you,” I whispered back. I held his face in my hands, and he looked exhausted. “Do you want to go to bed? We could cuddle a little before sleep.”

“I would like that,” he smiled.

He followed me into the bedroom and started to get changed. I got in bed while waiting for him.

Soon, I felt his arms around my waist and his lips pressed against my neck. I turned off the lights and faced him. I put my palm on his cheek and caressed it with my thumb. I heard him sigh and move his head closer and I held it between my hands. His lips met mine in a soft and slow kiss.

“I missed you” Francis’s embrace tightened.

“I missed you too, my love” I smiled.

We kissed again, our lips moving slowly, just appreciating each other’s presence. His hand moved from my waist to my hip and down to my butt, giving it a light squeeze. I gasped slightly, and Francis took the opportunity to slide his tongue inside my mouth. What was just a lingering kiss turned into something more pressing. The warmth and softness of our lips, the wet touch of tongues, and the subtle taste of each other only added to my incoming arousal.

Unconsciously, I pushed my hips against his during the kiss, feeling his semi-hard dick. Francis moaned into the kiss. With his hand under my neck, he grabbed a fist full of my hair at the back of my head, squeezing tight and deepening the kiss. His other hand moved back to my waist, slipping under my shirt, caressing my skin, leaving goosebumps all over me.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, breaking the kiss and leaving both of us panting.

Francis rested his forehead on mine, and his hands continued rubbing the skin of my waist and neck.

“I thought you were tired,” I smiled.

“I am, but I want you,” he said hoarsely.

At the same time, his leg slipped between mine, pulling me closer by the waist. I could feel his need pressing against my intimate parts. I squeezed his leg between mine, rubbing my heat trying to ease my aching, but I knew he was exhausted, so I took the lead.

“What if I keep you warm?” I asked.

I spit a bit into my hand and reached for his pants, slipping under the waistband and into his underwear. I took his dick and started slowly moving, feeling him twitch. Francis groaned, and I felt his breath at the top of my head; he hugged me tighter and started to slowly, rocking his hips against my hand. I felt a chill down my spine; my core throbbed, and I felt it was getting wetter.

“Prep me up?” I mumbled.

Francis hummed, agreeing. His hand went from my waist to my heat, massaging my skin lightly along the way, and he pressed one finger to my entrance. I moaned quietly, continuing to pump him. He started to spread my juices around my lips and then pushed one finger inside. I moved my hips along with his finger, Francis kept his movements slow, and with each thrust, he touched a new spot inside me. Soon, he added a second finger, making me moan again and grind my hips in his hand.

“And I thought I was in need,” Francis chuckled.

“Francis…” I whimpered.

He pressed his thumb into my clit and began his scissors movements inside me, also curling his fingers to reach that sweet spot and stroke it, making me roll my eyes and breath heavily. I lifted my head, looking once again for his lips, and captured them in a hungrily open-mouth kiss, our tongues stroking each other rapidly and messy, with spit starting to drip.

I felt my walls pulsing around his fingers and that tickling sensation in my lower belly rushing me to grind faster. But I forced myself to stop. I pulled my hand away from his throbbing dick and grabbed his wrist, moving him away from me. I pushed Francis by the shoulder, laying his back on the mattress, and undressed myself. I lifted my leg and sat across Francis's lap, pulling his clothes down, freeing his dick, making him groan.

I kissed his tip and licked his entire length, from bottom to top, taking him to my mouth next. I took him until his tip reached the back of my throat and pumped the rest with my hand. I bobbed my head, sucking him and pressing my tongue against his flesh. Francis gave a husky groan and thrust his hips, hands tangling my hair.

When his dick was all wet, I raised myself and aligned my entrance with his tip. I slowly sink into him, feeling him twitch, relinquishing the feeling of his dick filling me up until he was all of him was inside me.

I set my hands on his stomach, getting used to the sensation of having him inside. Francis released a strangled breath, his hands resting on my thighs, caressing them with his thumbs.

When I was about to move, Francis took a strand of my hair and nestled it behind my ear, pulling me towards him by the back of my neck right after. He kissed me again, lips moving rapidly, only pulling away when we needed air.

The sudden movement had me squeezing his dick and he grinded his hips against me.

“Fucking tight,” Francis whispered.

I began rocking my hips, Francis matched my pace by grinding into me. Grunts and pants echoed in the bedroom; my hands were back on his stomach for balance, his hands pressed firmly on my waist to guide my movements and leave bruises. Each thrust felt heavenly, his dick sliding in and out, hitting the right spots every time, making me whimper and my legs shake.

The familiar tickling feeling in my lower belly came back, and my movements became erratic, faster, and sloppier, chasing that rush.

“I’m cuming,” I begged.

“Wait for me,” Francis urged.

He grabbed my leg and pushed my back onto the mattress. Settled between my legs, Francis resumed his movements, thrusting deep and fast. The change in position made me whine and squeeze him even tighter; it was bliss, the feeling of his weight on me, his grinding, and his dick rubbing every part inside me and hitting just the right spot.

“Francis, please” I begged again.

“Almost there” he grunted.

I tried my best to delay my incoming orgasm, focusing on Francis, on his short breaths, his muscles stiffening beneath my fingers, his raspy moans in my ear, just everything about him, taking my mind away from the pleasure he was giving me.

I tightened my legs around his body and my nails scratched his back, I was so close.

“Cum with me,” Francis pleaded.

I focused back on the sensation in my lower area. Francis sped up his pace, with chaotic and messy movements, as he began to shake. I felt the buildup of tension that made my back arch and my toes curl, like a clenching feeling. As soon as I thought that I couldn’t take it anymore, I sensed all that tension being released and pulsing throughout my body, an all-consuming release and euphoria. I moaned loudly against Francis's skin.

At the same time, Francis tensed up gave his final deep thrust and his dick throbbed inside me, releasing all of his seed, filling me up.

Francis kissed my lips tenderly, again, again and again, holding my face while supporting the weight of his body on one arm.

“I love you” he whispered between kisses.

“I love you too” I giggled, kissing him back.

He lay next to me, pulling me onto his chest. We stayed like that for a while, still panting and recovering.

“I’ll get you some water and a towel,” he said kissing my temple.

“No, it's okay I’ll get it” I pushed him down and got up. “I have to use the bathroom anyway. Do you need anything?”

“Just some water, please”.

I went to the bathroom, cleaned myself and then got a glass of water from the kitchen. When I came back to the bedroom, Francis’s breathing was deep and slow, suggesting that he was already asleep. I smiled and placed the water on his nightstand, I gave a small peck on his lips and laid down in bed, feeling my muscles relaxing after so much tension and pleasure.

The fact that our lives are regularly in danger because of the doppelgangers leaves everyone on edge, meaning that our time together safe at home is a blessing and a getaway from everything on the outside. Losing ourselves in each other is not only a reminder of being alive but also a reassurance that the other person we love so much is still by our side.

Thinking about all the things we do for each other, and while caressing softly Francis's face, I also fell asleep.

[reikoknshii]

Perhaps...a Date?

Francis Mosses - Milkman

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊

Its been weeks you've been working for the D.D.D. , you stayed in your work station and do the usual works.

However, those days passed, you got yourself a motivation whenever he check in. Who? The famous milkman of town, Francis Mosses.

What makes him special? Was it his tired eyes? His soft and deep voice whenever he greeted you for checking in? You have no idea..

All you know you were smitten for the exhausted milk delivery man, and you can tell if he is the real one or not. Though there are times you almost let in the doppelganger because on how they almost perfect their form of Francis, either way you never let it in or else you'll be in trouble for cause of death of the apartment residents.

This day he's one of the listed entry resident, perhaps you can have a longer conversation with him?

You inhaled and exhaled as you open the metal window to start your work.

Angus...

Izaack...

Elenois and her Twin Selene..

Where is Francis?

You grew impatient after checking in four people and making sure they're not a doppelganger. Atlas Francis arrived, Tired as usual as he shows his entry request.

Odd...

' Perhaps he's a doppelganger? '

You tapped on the window trying get his attention , when he noticed you questioned where is his Id.

"My Id? My apologies, i forgot to show my Id" He said softly and audible for us to hear from the other glass side of the window.

' looks like everything is in check..wait hold on a minute '

You decide to double check his appearance and his ID, soon enough checking his files and you found the false thing about him.

"I don't remember Francis having a Mole"

"FUCK!" Cursed the doppelganger as he grew angry. This isn't the first time they would be angry, they almost got it perfect but fail because of a small detail.

"I didn't take that into account.

You're not easy to fool.

That makes me want to devour you even more." You shivered as they banged on the protected glass window , you immediately closed the metal cover.

"Can I visit you at night while you sleep? " the doppelganger said from the other side as they continue to hit on the metal cover.

"Yeah no thanks pal, I'd let francis in but not you" you jokingly said and dialed the D.D.D. services.

"Oh? Looks like the stationed guard is hoping for a mutual feeling, ill get you next time.." You immediately regret saying that, especially to a doppelganger, Knowing full well they would use the information they know against you.

You heard the D.D.D. services arrived and waited for it to finish. Soon the cleaning services opened the metal door telling you the 'operation cleaning is done and you may resume your work.'

You felt like a stupid hopeless romantic, now the doppelganger knew you're into Francis and would take that into their account to try getting in.

Soon enough, the real Francis arrived.

He showed both of his ID and Entry request.

ID and expiration date? Good.

Entry Request? Seem Accurate enough.

Appearance? perfect.

Your hands shakes as you checked the list as Francis waited for you to speak.

"Is it all good?" He asked with his usual tired voice as you nodded your head and waited for you to open the door.

"I-" you stammer wanting to say something as Francis stared at you.

"Yes?."

"...i-i well..." You started as you scratch the back of your head. "P-perhaps a date ? Only if you're available" you asked as Francis tired eyes widen abit from your offer.

"..That wouldn't be bad, tomorrow sounds good?" He asked with a slight smile , making your face go red from the overwhelming joy and excitement.

"Y-yes! Please!" You blurt out and realized you look so eager in front of him.

"Alright, mind opening the door for me now?" Francis asked as he carried his ID and work bag , You covered your face embarrassed on how you react to his answer and opened the metal door for him.

"See you Y/n "

[paymechildsupport]

"You're not my Husband..." // Doppel!Francis x Reader 🐄🩸

@cassanderasblog --> Thanks for the request <3

-!! CW: Dubcon (in a sense), – Brief mention of murder, – Very slight body horror

-!! Very brief size kink 

Spouse!Reader x doppelgänger!Francis  

▷ —--------------------

▷ —--------------------

▷ —-------------------- (s-s-s-sma-smash)

“You’re not Francis.” The words are sharp, punctuated, your glare burning straight through the mimic of a man in your living room

“No, I’m not,” The creature grins- if you could even call it that–, mouth a waning black chasm, no teeth, no tongue, nothing. How this thing managed to bypass the doormen you had no clue,-- how could someone fuck up this bad? 

“Francis’s” eyes darken, – literally. The whites turn into an inky black, eery small spheres of light peeking out where his pupils should be. 

Oh dear. 

The wired phone you keep on the kitchen counter goes off behind you. Glancing once more at your “husband” you slowly back track, hand inching to the phone. 

He just watches as you hesitantly pick up the ringing phone, making a click when it’s pulled from its cover. 

“Attention, this is the D.D.D, – we detected an unknown life force near your residency. Please, do not panic. Keep your door locked and do not approach anyone of suspicion. If you see anything weird, do not investigate. Dispatchers are coming to your location to liquidate the threat”   – Well, it was a little late for that. 

“... cancel dispatch” your lips form the words slowly. There’s silence on the other end, 

“Excuse me?... you want dispatch–” 

“Discharged. Threat neutralized.” 

Even “Francis” is stunned, – staring at you, unblinking, – flabbergasted. 

“‘Got it under control, thanks,” You hang up before they can answer, placing the phone back in its place. 

“Francis” just stares.

-

“You’re a doppelgänger , right?” 

“Perhaps.” His eyes narrow

“Alrighty then, prove it.” 

Unzips. 

—-------------

“Francis” stares, wide eyed, gaze fixed upon the water stains on your ceiling. Even with all the lights off, he can still see your snoozing frame tangled in the sheets beside him, (perks of being non-human). 

Your chest rose and fell with each breath, the movement captivating whatever posed as your husband. 

Your body looked serene, the faint light emitted from his glowing pupils illuminating your chest. 

“Ahah-!” You were practically in hysterics, tears flowing down your rosy cheeks, nails raking into the headboard of your bed. “Francis” could only lie there, enamored by your blissful expression as unfamiliar sparks of pure pleasure coiled inside, heating everything up until it was practically molten. 

“Mmph-!” you choke off your moans, slapping a hand to your mouth lest your neighbors hear you impaling yourself on your husband’s doppelgänger 's cock. 

You swivel your hips, his eyes widening; no one’s ever ridden him like you are, – no one’s ridden him period. You were surprised the doppelgänger  even had a dick, – let alone it being almost twice the size of the actual Francis’. You had stuffed yourself full of him, bouncing mercilessly. Your husband had neglected you horribly in the past,-- never coming home, always giving you the cold shoulder, even when you had gotten down and begged for him to look at you, just once –your thirst for intimate touch was at an all time high. 

“Francis” grunted, surprised at how wonderful this new sensation was. The delicious heat in his stomach bubbled over, bottoming out through his cock. Your eyes widened at the warm sensation of him, eyes rolling to the back of your head. You had to bend down, biting deeply into his shoulder to stifle the screams lodged in your throat. 

You inhaled deeply, desperately trying to catch your breath as “Francis” could only glance over, the slight pain in his shoulder from your teeth barely bothering him, (because, well, one, you were the only one who could breathe and two, he wasn’t human). Your head turns, sloppily kissing him on the cheek, to his absolute shock. 

“Francis” brings his right arm to his left shoulder, fingers gingerly grazing the marks left by your teeth. It still tingled. 

He looks over at your slumbering frame again, now tentatively reaching the same arm in your direction, hesitantly touching your peaceful face. You do not stir, so he continues downward, fingers carefully glazing over your nose, your mouth, your jaw, and finally stopping at your neck, your pulse vibrating through his hand. Humans were so interesting, he thought, – and you had just grabbed his interest by the throat with a viselike grip. 

He gently tucks a stray piece of hair plastered to your sweat slicked forehead behind your ear, grinning in that creepily endearing way of his. How the original Francis lucked out, – he almost felt bad about killing and devouring his corpse, – almost. How could he have fumbled so badly, – you were an absolute treasure, and “Francis” was now determined to keep you all to himself. 

Such a greedy little creature. 

… You’re never going to be able to get rid of him after this. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(requests for more Francis, -- doppelgänger or no, -- are open and very much appreciated !)

I love him a normal amount I swear 🙏🙏🙏

[conelluwrites]

the red means i love you

Reader/Doppelgänger Francis (main focus on the doppelgänger aspect) (reader goes by she/her and is described with vaginal terms)

posted on my AO3

word count: 2.6k

title from The Red Means I Love You by Madds Buckley

Contains: monster fucking (doppelgänger fucking), headcanon design for non-disguised doppels, barbed dick, breeding, and blood drinking

You let the wrong one in, but maybe it's not as bad as it seems when you invite him back to your apartment.

“Mmm…”  The voice sounds uncanny, too similar to Francis with the slightest hint of a purr that the tired milkman would never express, “I’m rather thankful that you let me in earlier, you know?”  His uniform is clean and tidy, well put together in a way that Francis would never be able to achieve due to his early morning risings.  His hair is just barely out of place.  Things that no one would notice-- things that make her wish that she had called Francis’ apartment to see if he was home.

“W-Wha-!”  The doorman stumbles back in fear, causing her to bump her back into the chest of the doppelgänger who all too readily wraps his arms around her waist.  One of his hands trails down her rigid arm and grabs the hand of hers that is trembling its way towards the phone.  Even if he didn’t intervene, the D.D.D. would not arrive in time to prevent any damages, he was in the safety room.  His fingertips are inhuman, too sharp but not yet undisguised, as they intertwine with her own to prevent her from dialing the number she memorized so easily.

“Shhh, shhh…  There’s no reason for you to be afraid.”  He coos, brushing his nose against the exposed flesh of her neck.  “No need to scream, no need to squirm, no need to put up a fight…”  His voice is velvety but now lacks the tiredness the real Francis carries.  It’s not surprising that he’s giving up his disguise piece by piece, she assumes that it must take some level of effort to be so near-perfectly disguised and she knows at this point she’s utterly fucked.  “I could take you away from this annoying position forever if you want.  No pesky D.D.D. agents, no more anxiety from our kind, no more living in fear.  Sounds pretty nice, hm?”  His free hand goes to hold her chin, his sharp thumb slightly digging into her jawline.

“But I gotta protect my neighbors.  My job-- sitting here and looking at everyone and their documents, it might suck at times but it keeps everyone safe.”  She says, her voice trembling.  Her throat is bone dry from fear, her chest aches from the uneven breathing leaving her slightly open lips.

“Oh, my dear, that’s such a noble sentiment.”  The doppelgänger sighs dramatically before shaking his head.  He spins her around in his grasp, the hand that was holding hers goes to her waist.  His fingers trace along her jawline, making sure to keep a gentle, but firm, grip on her so she cannot try to escape.  There’s a bright grin on his face, his teeth too white to be human.  “But how many times have they let you down?  Surely they have failed you before.  People are fickle creatures; they don’t appreciate what they have until it’s gone.  I promise to protect you, sweetheart, just let me stay with you tonight, hm?”

Her mind races, so many thoughts of her own death and the death of her neighbors.  “How do I know you won’t hurt me?”  The answer is obvious-- if the doppel were going to hurt her, he already would have.  He’s stronger than her, stronger than any human and she’s still in his grasp.  If he wanted to maim her, he would have already.  “You doppelgängers just want to kill and eat us.”

“Ah, you misunderstand me, darling!  I could never harm a hair on your lovely head.”  The doppelgänger earnestly insists.  His thumb brushes gently across her cheek, trying to so lovingly convince her.  “All I want is to hear more stories about your day and listen to those sweet little fears of yours…  And yes, perhaps indulge myself in some delicious blood as well.”  He’s whispering intimately, as if they’re a pair of lovers.  The grip on her waist tightens slightly but remains mostly gentle, it’s almost comforting despite the sharp nails against her shirt.  “C’mon… please trust me.”

“But I-”  her voice dies out the longer she allows herself to fall into the illusion of mutual trust.

“It’s okay, my love,” he murmurs understandingly, “don’t overthink things, hm?”  He kisses her temple tenderly, a perfect imitation of love between humans.  His eyes flicker towards the phone, allowing even himself to dream of a different world where he could whisk her away and keep her all to himself.  “Let’s just go for now, let’s go somewhere private where no one can bother us.”

She relents easily, tearing her gaze from his face and allowing it to travel down the white uniform before making its way back up to his face.  “My apartment is on the first floor.  We… We can go there together.  We don’t have to worry about others seeing us, everyone else is in for the night.”

Francis’ grin grows even more, his canines growing sharper than any humans can be naturally, ���That sounds perfect.”  He sounds appreciative, leading him gently to the door to exit the safety room.  The walk to the apartment is short.  As the apartment door closes, the intensity changes slightly; he is watching her carefully while also taking the new space.  “Nice place.  So cozy…”

“Thank you….” She murmurs. “I figured it’s safer for you to be here than anywhere else in the complex.”

Francis’ doppelgänger hums thoughtfully before nodding in agreement.  After the brief exchange, he takes the opportunity to explore the small apartment, touching things lightly as if trying to understand their purpose and history though touch alone.  Every movement exudes confidence in his decision-making process, evaluating the potential of each object.  “You’re so brave, you know.  C’mere.”

She walks over to him hesitantly and stands there.  The doppelgänger is taller than her.  Despite it all, since he’s imitating one of her neighbors that she’s rather fond of, she feels herself relaxing.  He wraps an arm around her waist casually, pulling her close while leaning down until their hands nearly touch.  He inhales deeply, enjoying the warmth that a human being brings.  He drawings circles on his back with his free hand.  He continues to lean down slowly -- closer and closer to her neck.  Her breath hitches as his nose finally meets her neck.  Her hands meet his waist and tighten slightly, crinkling his shirt.  Adrenaline is racing through her body, making her tremble slightly but she refuses to pull away.  The way the doppelgänger rubes and nuzzles his nose into the crook of her neck is the sweetest thing she’s experienced recently.

The doppelgänger lets out a satisfied rumble, savoring the sensation of her trembling beneath his touch.  If anyone saw them now, they’d assume it was two lovers locked in passion.  His lips brush against the skin he finds lightly before he stops abruptly.  “Promise me something -- promise that you won’t run away.”

“...”  She considers his words carefully.  Every primal instinct in her is begging her to run, to get away as fast as she can.  But she hasn't and, to be honest to herself, she doesn’t want to.  She’s rather content staying like this, being in his arms with his face buried in her neck.  She know he could bite her, sink sharp teeth in her neck and finish her life in less than a second, but she finds herself trusting that he won’t.  “ I promise.”

“Good girl.”  He praises softly, finally giving into temptation and pressing his teeth gently against her neck.  Not hard enough to yet draw blood, just merely teasing her.  His arm tightens around her as the gravity of her promise fully settles between the pair.  The danger she’s in never fully dissipates but mixes well with the affection he’s showing her.  “You deserve a reward for trusting me.”

“Oh?  Like what?” She asks, her grip on him loosening as her body adapts to the unfamiliar situation.

Francis’ doppelgänger chuckles, the vibrations tickling her neck.  “Don’t fret, just something that will make us both happy.”  With a groan, he allows his disguise to slip further and further, his teeth sharpening.  They puncture her skin ever so slightly, blood trickles immediately out of the small wounds.  With a satisfied hum, he pulls away and licks his lips, allowing blood to pool.  “Just relax, enjoy this moment.”  She struggles out a broken moan; it’s not necessarily painful but it reminds her of how weak and vulnerable she is in the moment, a feeling that is intoxicating.  “Relax.” he murmurs against her skin soothingly.  There was no aggression or hunger driving him, it was just to provide nutrients for him to continue his time with her.  Slowly yet deliberately, he licks up the collected droplets while sucking lightly on the wound.  He alternates between suckling and licking the wounds, moaning.

“Y’gonna leave a hickey on me.” She sighs out, her body relaxing even further.

“Only for me to look at later.”  He promises, his breath hot on her dampened flesh.  The rhythm slows down until it stops altogether and he pulls away.  Slowly and carefully, he raises his gaze to meet hers.  “Now tell me more about those annoying D.D.D. agents.”

“I don’t know much about them, to be honest.  They don’t hang around after the cleaning procedure and they don’t talk to me aside from congratulating me on living another way.”  She says, swiping a bit of her own blood from his lips with his thumb.

“You should know more than that.”  He growls. “We could use your help some day.”

“We?  You want me to help the doppelgängers?”

“Of course.  Someone like you, someone so skilled at calling us out…  You could be helpful in our cause.”

“I don’t believe that’s such a worthy cause…” She murmurs, resting her head against his chest.  His heartbeat is inhuman, too slow to be human, but it’s relaxing.  “Though…”

“Though?  You would be safe -- you’d be part of our family.  Perhaps one day I could introduce you to some of the ones I’m closest to.”

“Mm.”  She weighs his words carefully.  In a disturbing, unacceptable way, it’s almost sweet.  “I suppose that, as long as I’m protected by you, I’d be honored to meet them.  Does that make us mates?”

“Indeed.”  Silence stretches between them for a moment.  “In our world, we share souls upon consummation.”  He stares into her eyes after the statement, gauging her reaction based on his customs.

“Ah, like marriages for humans then?  Do you want to consummate our bond?”

The doppelgänger stiffens slightly at first before relaxing.  “Yes.  But we must proceed cautiously.”

“Why’s that, my love?  Is your genitalia that different?”  She asks, leaning up to nuzzle her nose against his for a moment before pulling away and going to stroke his cheek softly.  The skin is rubbery and like ice against her fingers.

“Hm…  No, not quite.”  There’s a beat of uncomfortable silence, he allows her mind to wander with possibilities.  “Our release is also quite different, I believe.  Is that okay?”

She’s quiet for a moment, allowing herself time to fully comprehend the possibilities ahead of her. “Yes.  I want to be your mate, so please…  mate with me the way doppelgängers do.”  Francis’ doppelgänger feels a surge of triumph.  The transformation starts gradually as he allows himself to rip through his disguise.  The clothes rip and tatter, falling to the ground around him as she lets him go, allowing him to fully transform.  Glistening black scales peek through skin like moonlight reflecting off ocean waves, his fingers grow out to sharp daggers, his arms and legs elongate as his muscles tense.  His teeth barely fit in his mouth, the sharp points poking slightly over his lips.  His cock is impossibly thick and long, tiny barbs lining the sides as it oozes black pre-cum.  He lifts her effortlessly, his hands on her ass as he carries her to her bedroom and places her gently on the bed.

“Lie back.”  He commands quietly, watching every breath he takes with anticipation and hunger.  She lays back, obediently as he hovers over her patiently.  There’s no shame or hesitation in his gaze as his hand travels up her shirt to lift it over her head.  She tugs off her pants, leaving her in her bra and panties.  His gaze is full of pride.  “You’re mine now, my soulmate.”

“You’re perfect.”  She says softly, cupping his face and kissing his monstrous face lovingly.  Her lips meet his rough lips and pointed teeth.  She winces preemptively as his sharp claws make easy work of her panties, tugging on the fabric until it tears away and reveals her glistening sex.  The thick, black sludge lubricates his cock, making it ease into her cunt slowly and easily despite its grand size.  She feels the tiny barbs grow slightly, just enough to dig into her walls to prevent her from squirming away or resisting.

He hisses appreciatively at the compliment and the feeling of her heat enveloping her slowly.  “You’re tight.”  He grunts out raggedly, thrusting deep.  The sensation matches beast-like intensity, every movement echoing throughout the small bedroom.

“Hah, you’re bigger than I expected.  So fuckin’ thick.” She pants out, her cunt swallowing his cock with little resistance.  “I was scared about the bars, but shit…  your cock is so perfect for me.”  The doppelgänger lets out an animalistic moan at her declaration, his thrusts becoming more aggressive and intense.

“That’s it!  Take everything I got!”  He exclaims hoarsely, nails digging into her hips.  “Answer me, would you want children?”  He gasps urgently.  Despite the heaviness of the question he posed, he keeps pushing relentlessly -- seeking assured release.

“I-I-!  Yes!  I want to swell with your young.”  She says lovingly, moaning.

He roars at his words, bowing low to catch her lips.  The kiss is filled with dominance and ownership.  “Perfect.”  He growls into her mouth, shifting positions easily so she’s on top of him.  “Ride me until we’re done.”

She straddles him easing, wincing as the shift in positioning digs his barbs deep into her cunt.  “Fuck, baby…”  She breathes out, her hands on his chest.  Her hips raise up and down rapidly despite her legs trembling greatly.

“Let me see those pretty eyes looking into mine.”  He orders hoarsely.  He hisses as her cunt adjusts.  The pain she felt was only temporary, but served its purpose well: reminding her whose body she was riding, a dangerous creature holding immense power over her.  His own gaze burned with need and desperation, pleading silently for satisfaction.  

She looks into his eyes obediently, so full of adoration for the monster.  “I-I-...”  Her breath hitches, she can’t finish her sentence.  She’s too embarrassed to admit her love for him.  Instead, she leans down to kiss him.  Her soft lips meeting his rough, uneven ones.

“Say it.  Tell me how much we mean to each other.”  He demands huskily.  His barbs grow slightly more, haling her movements for a single second.  It’s a sign of his nearing climax that’s mirrored by her frantic movements once she adjusts to the growth.

“I love you, fuck, I love you!”  She moans loudly.  Her cunt begins to quiver and massage his cock.  “Cum in me, cum in me, cum in me.”  She whimpers as his barbs dig in even more as her tight walls convulse around him.  Suddenly she can feel a torrent of his dark, murky cum release deep into her cunt.  His cock swells greatly, making her gasp and cum around him.  Her slick dribbles down his cock and coats him.  Her body slowly relaxes as his barbs retract but he remains swollen.  She lays limp against him, breathing heavily.

He roars hoarsely, pumping several times harder with his thickened cock.  He remains still, breathing heavily with his arms tight around her as he lays on his side, holding her tight to his chest.  It’ll take several minutes for his cock to decrease in size, but it’s unlikely that either of the two will be awake.  “Our bond is sealed.”  He rasps against her ear, nuzzling gently against sensitive skin.

[6ives]

﹑%# ☆﹒milk the milkman﹗🎀 francis. m x masc! reader

TW nsfw, cockwarming, doppelganger francis, sub! milkman x top! masc reader

YOUR EYES STARED at the figure before you, his eyes tired with eye bags surrounding them, shaky breaths leaving from his humpy nose. he dusted his uniform, as he apologized for not giving you his ID card.

he placed it in front of you, the only thing stopping his hand from touching yours being the glass. you took the card almost immediately— checking the info. how foolish, his ID was already expired.

you bit your lips, a small smile dancing across your face. “you’ve gotta do better than this to trick me,” you smiled at his face, keeping the ID down. he was probably the last person you were gonna have to deal with— and then your shift ends, so why not at least have a little fun?

his face changes. without even trying to convince you, his eyes turn purple, a grunt escaping from his grinding sharp canines, “you think you’re funny?” he asks aggressively, “i’ve always been funny,” a chuckle leaves your lips. what could possibly happen from you teasing a doppelganger?

well, it turns out a lot can happen..

things somehow ended up with his legs wrapped around your seated figure, his face buried in your neck with your cock deep warming his walls, you plant kisses on his bare shoulder, whimpers leaving his mouth every time you slightly moved around. this probably isn’t the best idea— but this was the only thing you could do to not get killed by him.

his hands gripped your hair, pulling it in pain and pleasure. “quit movin’!” he growls, clawing his fingers in, earning a low hiss from you. yet you didn’t stop. you continued to move around the chair, your cock going deeper as his moans got louder.

“i’ll..” he starts, holding back a lewd groan, “i’ll kill you.” he huffs, voice dripping with desperation, “you’re threats aren’t gonna work on me,” your eyes scan his body that clung onto you, your fingers slowly making its way down his spine, sending shivers down them.

the doppelganger felt humiliated, but for some reason, he felt a surge of pleasure run through his veins. he had always been so high and almighty yet hearing these words, he felt blush creeping up his tanned cheeks.

he felt your cold hands snake around his waist, holding its sides as you slowly lifted his body up, “w-what are you doin’, fool?” he grunts, hands still clutched around your neck, his eyes shot open, rolling back after some time as you quickly placed him back on your cock, he lets out a groan, tightening his grip around you.

“u..you— gah!” he moans, head falling back, “its hurts!” he sniffles, tears bubbling around his eyes as his legs trembled in pain and pleasure. he broke so early, you definitely wasn’t expecting this today.

that thick ahh glass ain’t stoppin me from this hunk of a man‼️‼️💯💯🗣️🗣️🤣🤣🙏

[jlwritesstories]

Hi Hello, I absolutely loved your The Eyes Are The Windows To The Soul series, I am super curious though, what...exactly was Dieter's plan if the reader didn't accept him? I mean, he said he'd never hurt them...but you also implied pretty heavily that he's killed people who have rejected him before. OOH WAIT I was also wondering how you say Dieter's name? I've been saying it in my head like the word "diet" in english, like die-et.

Anyway, have good day, thanks for writing and sharing such a satisfying and interesting lil series!!

Thank you 🤩🤩🤩 I'm so glad you're enjoying the series.

Beware! You have awakened the infodump monster. 😈😅

Dieter is such a fun character to write because they are an unreliable narrator. They're not human, so they don't see things in the same way a human would. Also, they're delusional.

Right now Dieter is convinced he will never hurt the reader, but he was also convinced of that fact with all the other partners he's pursued before ... right up until the moment the house of cards came falling down and the illusion shattered.

Then Dieter spiraled into a panic and basically speed-ran the five stages of grief until they went into a mindless rage mode once their emotions became too much. And then afterward, when they calmed down a bit, they would be consumed with guilt and eat their previous partners to gain what they could from their memories to 'figure out what went wrong'.

So yeah, they're living in an endless loop of 'the next one will work' and it's terrifying. Wonderful while the relationship is going well, but when it doesn't 👀

Also, I pronounce Dieter like /Dee-tah/ since that's how it's pronounced on this pronounciation site.

[yesimilkdamilkman]

Hoon Hoon franics has tentacles, argue with yo mama😖😖🤭

(this was in my quese but im here to add more)

Look at the fanart ive found

made by @wanwan_sfw on twitter

(get in my askbox and give me your ideas)

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: 𝙳𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚐ä𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 [8]

Pairing: Dark!Ransom x Reader, Lloyd Hansen x Reader

Summary: Your husband’s twin brother has always made you uncomfortable, and after two years of marriage, you finally find out why. 

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Stalking, Kidnapping, Basement-wife, Gaslighting, Manipulation, Breeding kink, Smut, Darkfic, Dead Dove: Do not eat!

Word Count: 3,572

A/N: poor reader. things are not going as well as she’d hoped. we’re honestly in the home stretch, i anticipate another 2-3 chapters before we’ve arrived at our conclusion! (i also have some plans for a short prequel, so stay tuned!) bottom divider by @firefly-graphics

You stare at your husband, open mouthed as he shuts the door behind him. On the tray in his hands is breakfast, and most of all—coffee. Real coffee, swirling gently in the fancy drip . You can’t think of a single thing to say as he moves past you to set the tray down on the table. 

The scent of his cologne makes your knees tremble, it’s so familiar, so him. You haven’t seen Ransom in person in so long it feels like some sort of trick. You look down at his hands as he arranges the plates, looking for the indents left by Lloyd’s signature rings—but there is only his wedding band, sitting on his ring finger. He looks up at you. 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Sweetheart.” 

Your tongue is sticky in your dry mouth. “I did.” 

Ransom isn’t as good at pretending he’s unaffected—not as good as Lloyd. Brief upset flashes across his features before it’s replaced by determined placidity. It makes the rage simmering in your belly flare up even hotter at the sight of him. You’re angrier at him than you are at Lloyd. It isn’t logical, you know, to feel somehow more betrayed by your husband than his twin, but you do. You suppose Lloyd owed you less than the man with whom you had shared every hope, every dream for your future. 

“Let’s eat something, at least,” he replies at last. “You can hate me on a full stomach.” Reluctantly, you sit down at the table. You wonder if all your meals will be taken like this now, now that contact has been re-established, like some sort of strange exposure therapy. Ransom pours himself a mug of dark coffee and then a matching one for you. You don’t reach for it, though, not until you see him drink from his own cup. 

The plate before you is loaded up with fresh fruits—your favorites: cut grapes, melons, slices of kiwi—and beneath that is a fully loaded waffle, topped with fluffy whipped cream. You spear a forkful of eggs and chew as you stare pointedly at the mug in front of you instead of at him. 

Ransom isn’t like Lloyd, he doesn’t force conversation. He simply sits there across from you, eating breakfast in your prison like it’s the most ordinary thing in the entire world. 

“How could you do this?” You vomit up the question as you tremble, unable to swallow another bite. “How?” 

“We love you so much,” he begins, and you have to resist the urge to throw the plate at his head, food and all. “So fucking much.” Ransom reaches across the table to grasp your hand. “This is the only way this works, Sweetheart.” He lifts his hand to your cheek. You hate that his reassurance feels good, that you’re tempted to press your face into the palm of his hand the way you used to. A sob tears free from your throat. 

“If you loved me, you wouldn’t—”

“Do you even know what love is?” There is a cold edge to Ransom’s voice that’s unfamiliar to you, not because you haven’t heard it before, but because he never adopts that tone with you—never. “Love is doing for others what they cannot do for themselves.” You almost want to cringe away from his gaze. “You taught me that.” As his words increase in intensity you actually try to, only to have Ransom grip your chin with his free hand.“Even if it hurts.”

He sits back in his chair, and sips his coffee. “Now finish your breakfast, Sweetheart. I have a surprise.” The word surprise immediately gets your hackles up, and you can feel your stomach churning. 

“A surprise? What is it?” Ransom winks at you. 

“Eat up.” 

You force your way through the fruit—it’s sweet and ripe but it tastes like mush now as you anxiously chew and swallow. Ransom had always been a good gift-giver. It’s one of the things you’d valued about your husband, his attention to detail, his heart. That little piece of him he’d let you see, the part of him he guarded, held like a wounded bird in his cupped hands. The part of him that memorized your birthday three months in and threw a half-birthday party because he couldn’t wait that long to give you the present he’d gotten for you—a trip to Paris, to see the Louvre. Which one of these people is your husband, you wonder, watching him watch you. Which one of them is real, which is created? 

Or had you ever really known him at all?

When you’re done eating, Ransom hands you a little plastic baggie, containing an assortment of pills. A few you recognize—your pre-natal vitamins, one of your prescribed supplements—but there are some you don’t. You glare down at his offered hand with narrowed eyes before crossing your arms. 

“I’m not taking those.” You’re expecting Ransom to fight you—hell, you’re half expecting him to pin you down and force them down your throat. But he doesn’t. All he does is purse his lips, and place them down on the table. 

“We’ll revisit that.”

“We’re not revisiting anything!” You hiss. “I am not. Taking those.” Ransom steeples his fingers beneath his chin and raises an eyebrow. 

“You had no problem taking them when you couldn’t see them, Sweetheart.” Your stomach rolls. “It was my suggestion,” he sighs, fingering the little packet. “I thought you would appreciate the agency.”

“You’re still drugging me.” 

“Sweetheart they’re not roofies.” His flippancy somehow makes you angrier. “It’s all the things you were taking—perhaps a little altered for your condition, but nothing untoward. Your Celexa for your anxiety. Prenatal supplements, vitamins.” 

“I’m not taking them.” 

“Fine.” He picks the little baggie back up and places it in his pocket. Instead of tacit, clever threats like Lloyd, Ransom simply gets up. You look up at him in surprise, almost forgetting to be angry. 

“Y-you’re not going to force me?” You ask, shocked. Your husband pushes his chair back against the table. He looks sad. Really sad, like he recognizes the weight of what has changed between you. 

“No, baby. I’m not.” He turns towards the door. “But I’m not going to stay, either.” Your eyes go wide with fear.

“W-wait, why? I—”

“You’re upset. I understand, I do.” For his part, Ransom looks realistically disappointed, like he wanted things to turn out differently than they have. A sad smile flits across his face. “But baby if we’re going to build back what we had, build it stronger, you’re going to have to think about more than just yourself.”

You feel a pang of hurt in your chest at his accusation. “I’m not selfish! If any

thing—”

“Threatening to leave me? To take the baby?” Ransom shoots you a cold, disappointed look. “What did you tell me, Sweetheart? The baby will never know my name? What would you call that if not selfish?” You swallow thickly. 

That day feels so long ago now, though in truth you suppose it’s been nearly a month since you’d figured it out and everything had broken open and fallen all to pieces. It’s strange to think that that was reality in the same way that this is—that your physical body no longer occupies a world that exists only in your memories, when everything was perfect. 

“I’m going to give you some time to relax. Maybe It’s too soon.” Ransom shakes his head. “I’ll be back when you’re ready.” Your chest feels tight at his declaration. Alone? Again? You curl your fists into tight balls beneath the table, nails digging into your palms. 

“Don’t.” 

“Oh? And why should I stay? You hate me, you won’t take your medicine—”

“I’ll take it.” You mumble, and Ransom turns back around, a soft, surprised look on his face. You don’t want to go back to being alone, back to the endless hours of silence, your food delivered while you slept or bathed, to reciting movie lines just to have something to listen to—

“What?”

“I—I’ll take them. Please—you don’t…” You close your eyes.. “You don’t know what it’s like to be in here alone, day after day.”  It’s torture. The words hang unspoken from the tails of the ones you’re brave enough to voice. Tears press against your closed lids as you try unsuccessfully to keep them back. He sighs. 

“Oh Baby.” 

You hate him —you hate both of them, so much it seems to fill up every inch of you. So why do you want him to stay? Why does it feel familiar and right and good when he tucks you beneath his chin as you sob? You’d managed to hold them in with Lloyd, but you can’t with Ransom. He’s too familiar, your body knows him, thinks it’s safe with him, even when it’s not. But it’s hard not to feel that same security when he sweeps you into his arms and sits against the window with you as you whimper and cry, pressing your face into his chest. 

Ransom rocks you back and forth, rubbing circles on your back through the cotton dress. You aren’t sure what he says to you as he does so, mumbling muddy praise and promises into your hair. It’s almost worse than that day at the villa—you hadn’t been this hopeless then, this trapped. You’d thought you could leave then, that you could simply walk away from the snare they had set for you, though you never really could.

What other end could there have been?

You aren’t sure how long you sit there with Ransom, your heaving, hysterical sobs becoming hiccoughs. Listlessly you stare out at the waves, dragging the back of your hand across your puffy eyes. Wordlessly, he hands you the little plastic bag of pills. You take it from him without a fuss, tear open the corner and dump them into the palm of your hand. You consider them for a moment before lifting them to your mouth and swallowing them dry. 

—

The surprise, as it turns out, is books. 

Ransom brings in a brightly colored bag from the hallway as you sit sniffling on the bed, still wiping at your puffy eyes. It almost brings you to tears again as you pull out the tissue paper to reveal the prizes inside. They’re all books you’ve never read before but had been meaning to, even going so far as to put a list of them on the fridge in the apartment you shared with Ransom. Frankenstein. Hound of the Baskervilles. The Shining.

“You read my list.” 

“Of course I did,” Ransom says, pressing a kiss to your temple before sitting beside you on the edge of the bed. “It’s been up there for months.” He teases. “I thought we could read them together, like we did in college. Since you’ve been so lonely.” Something goes tight and achy in your chest at the memory of it, you and Ransom cuddled together on your narrow dorm room bed as you read him passages of Wuthering Heights and Catcher in the Rye. It’s so easy to picture it now, though you had not thought of them for months—maybe years. Your husband just a few years younger, draping his own sweater over your shoulders. 

I like when it smells like you, he’d say when you’d stammer about lotion or perfume, pressing it into your hands anyway. 

“I’d like that.” 

It’s almost like being home again, wrapping yourself in the soft comforter on the bed as Ransom begins to read. Is it so wrong, you wonder, to want to go back to when things were ordinary and perfect? Before you knew your husband and his brother felt something deeper than love, deeper than obsession for you—ownership, perhaps. You don’t want this new knowledge, as insane as that seems. You don’t want to know that your family is dependent on them, that their lives rely on your marriage in ways you never could have foreseen. Your father’s business, Nathalie’s school—all things they would lose the instant your relationship dissolved. 

And as Ransom reads, it’s almost easy to pretend you don’t have it, to close your eyes and just… listen. You’re half asleep when he shifts you into his arms, pressing soft kisses to the top of your head. You begin to stir, pushing at his chest, but he hums softly. 

“Just let me have this, Sweetheart. You can still hate me when I’m done.” Your husband holds you to his chest, stroking your hair until you fall asleep. He holds you like that for a long time, listening to the sound of your breathing. With a sigh, Ransom lowers you down to the mattress. He’s arranging your books on the bedside table when the sound of the keypad draws his attention.

“You’re bringing her presents already?” Lloyd drawls from the threshold. “I thought you said she wasn’t ready.” Ransom rolls his eyes. He knows what jealousy looks like well enough on his own face to know it on his brother’s. 

“I said that a week ago,” he says softly. “And keep your voice down. You know we had to lower the dose on the sedative.” Lloyd leans against the bedpost, watching as Ransom fusses over you. “Besides. You got to see her yesterday.” He shoots a glare at his older brother. “You took a fucking bath with her. You always have to be fucking first, don’t you?” 

It’s Lloyd’s turn to roll his eyes. “I don’t interfere in your relationship, you don’t talk shit about mine.” He smooths a hand down your cheek. “I called the doctor. He said he’ll be here Monday.” 

Ransom nods. “Good.” A small smile crosses his lips. “I think she’ll be excited to see the baby.” He rests a hand on the ever-so-slight curve of your belly, and Lloyd snorts. “With our luck, it’ll be twins.” You shift, mumbling something in your sleep as your face twitches. Lloyd kisses your forehead. 

“Shh, baby. M’right here.” His hand replaces Ransom’s on your belly. “We’re not going anywhere.”

—

“A doctor?” You stare at the two of them incredulously. “Here?” Lloyd scoffs at your shock. 

“Come on, Princess. It’s not like we’re in space.” He pats you affectionately on your hip. “Besides, you’re due for a checkup. Don’t you want to see your little nugget?” His words twist your stomach. You had scheduled an ultrasound for when you returned from Mykonos—not knowing, foolishly, perhaps, that you never would. I wonder what they told Dr. Pashik. 

Ransom and Lloyd are wrapped around you like snakes; your husband curled around you from behind, while Lloyd has draped himself across your lap, tracing circles on the exposed skin of your thigh where the dress has ridden up. They’d come into your room sometime early that morning while you’d still been mostly asleep, taking up residence on either side of you while you mumbled groggily. Of course Ransom and Lloyd had not come empty handed, bringing with them more gifts; books, card games, even a portable device they told you you were allowed to watch movies on. Of course, upon discreet investigation there were only streaming apps installed on it, no browser, nor any way to reach the outside world. It was password locked for extra security, which neither one of your lover-turned-captors had yet supplied you. 

You rest a hand on your tummy. “I am excited,” you say finally. “I guess… I’m surprised.” Until now, they had not allowed you to see a single person other than them—in fact you wouldn’t have known there were more people here than the three of you had Lloyd not pointedly told you. “What kind of doctor treats a prisoner?”

“You’re a patient, Princess.” Lloyd corrects you. “Not a prisoner.” He kisses your thigh. One who enjoys a discreet, hefty payout. 

“Someone you know from work?” You ask snidely, and Lloyd laughs. 

“Maybe when I can trust you, I can tell you.” He winks at you. You know your brother-in-law does work for “the government” but you aren’t really sure which government. You get the feeling he has no loyalty in that regard, though all you have to go on is your own baseless assumption. Your thoughts turn to the doctor, and you wonder if they might be sympathetic, despite Lloyd’s money. If you’re even allowed to be alone with them—in all likelihood you probably won’t. If Ransom and Lloyd have been anything they’ve been careful, you doubt they’d make such a rookie mistake this far into the game. Not now. 

You smile sadly. “I don’t think you’ll ever be able to trust me.”

“Oh Princess, I don’t know about that. After all, look at us now.” A lump forms in your throat. “All cozy like. I think you feel a lot more comfortable than you want to admit.” You swallow against the lump that’s formed, thick and sticky in your throat. 

“I just know there’s no use trying to push you off.” 

“Okay, Princess.” Lloyd blows you a kiss. “Whatever you say.” 

It is warm and comfortable between them, and as much as you hate it, Lloyd’s hands do feel familiar and right on your skin, though you don’t want them to. It occurs to you once again that you don’t know what’s in those neat little pre-packaged pill bags that they’re giving you, and as much as you don’t want to bask in the sudden intensity of their affection after weeks of stark purposeful isolation, you still can’t help yourself. It doesn’t help to know the rules of the game when they’re still playing it so effectively. All you can do is watch as Ransom and Lloyd move you around the board, to ends you can only imagine. 

“When is the doctor coming?”

“Tomorrow,” Ransom says, squeezing your hand. “I think we’ll hear the heartbeat, you’re far enough along, you know.” He sounds excited. You know he is—Ransom has always been excited at the prospect of fatherhood. He’d been downright encouraging when you had brought up going off your birth control, if the things he’d been growling into your ear as he rutted into you in your bed were any indicator, and they were. 

“We still haven’t talked about names.” 

“I had a list going but it was on my phone.” 

“Maybe we’ll take a look at it together soon.” Ransom’s hands drift to your shoulders, rubbing at the tense muscle knotted underneath your skin. 

“Will we get pictures?” You ask. “Of the ultrasound?” 

“Of course.”

“Then… will you send them to my parents?” His hands falter, and you turn to look at him. Your husband’s expression is unreadable as he glances down at his brother, an entire conversation passing between them wordlessly. You feel that same pang of old jealousy creep up into your chest, and you swallow it down. “I just—they… they would want to see.” 

“Maybe.” He says at last. 

“Where do they think I am?”

“I don’t—”

“I’ve been good, haven’t I?” You ask, shifting away from him, from the both of them. “Please. Tell me something. Anything.” Lloyd shakes his head with a frown, but Ransom sighs. 

“You’re in a very expensive hospital in Austria.” 

“My father wouldn’t believe that,” you say, shaking your head. You know your family—they wouldn’t just swallow some paper thin excuse just to get back to their lives. Would they? “He-he would want to see me.” 

“Your father is very busy with his business, Princess,” Lloyd cuts in effortlessly. “He has so much to worry about, and then there’s Nathalie’s classes…” he shrugs. “They trust us to take good care of you.” 

“So let us take care of you.” 

You’d suspected you had no tears left to cry, that perhaps you’d cried them all already. But as always, you manage to surprise yourself with more from the seemingly unending supply inside you. You want to push away their hands as they pat and comfort you, hushing you and wiping at their tears with the pads of their thumbs. It’s the only comfort you have, especially knowing your family isn’t looking for you. Why would they? You remember the bitter, bitter arguments you’d had with your own father when you had decided to move out. They relied on you, needed you—you contributed to more than a third of the bills, there was simply no way around it. You were hurting the family, damning them with your independence. 

“Have you ever thought about anyone but your goddamn self?” Your father had never apologized for that night, and like a dutiful daughter you never brought it up again because how could you? You were the oldest, junior mom, de-facto parent. Something shatters inside you at the thought, and you feel it almost like physical pain. I wonder if they can hear it. 

You don’t know when the arms around you begin to feel like solace instead of suffocation as you weep against someone’s warm chest—you cannot be sure, not through your blurry, red-rimmed eyes. But as your fingers curl into his shirt, and another warm set of lips presses against your hair, you wonder if perhaps this is why they chose you. 

Because who didn’t love to tinker with a broken doll?

to be continued…

Thank you for reading! Please check out my masterlist for other, similar works, and follow my library blog, @box-of-bones-library for updates. ❤️

[little-writers-posts]

Something More Between Us (The Milkman x GN Reader)

Author's Note: A short draft that was playing in my mind because of the milkman on TikTok. I hope you enjoy.

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 781

The clock marked 9 p.m., marking the end of my shift as a doorman at the apartment complex where I live. I stretched out on the chair and sighed. At the same time, the other doorman comes through the door to take my place and start his shift.

“Hey, (Y/N), how was your day?” he asked as he started to unpack his things.

“A little tiring, to be honest. Had four residents, plus two without an entry request, and caught six doppelgangers, some more violent than others, but it comes with the job, I suppose.” I said as I packed my things.

“I’m lucky to be on the night shift” he smiled. “I only have three tenants on the list, and according to the DDD all the tenants are in the building except for those.”

“Don’t be careless. Our lives are at stake here.” I warned. “But, you’re right, you’re lucky.” I smiled.

I quickly scanned his list for the night and my heart skipped a beat. Francis name was there, I assume he left for his job as a milkman and, if I remember correctly from my night shifts, he was one of the first to arrive. 

When I started working as a doorman as well as living at the building, one of the perks was to get to know the people who lived in the same space. I always thought that Francis was good-looking, even with those tired eyes. However, even if we do chat a bit at the door or on the occasional bump in the corridors, we never really moved past that. He is a very reserved person and prefers to keep things private, I get that, plus he never seamed that interested in me.

As I was lost in thought, I heard two voices in the entrance lobby and realised my colleague was gathering all the folders to check the information.

“Mmm… Hello” I heard Francis say through the door.

“Good evening mister Mosses” greeted the doorman. “Let’s see…”

I resume my packing, picking up some final things left and reaching for the keys to my apartment.

“All good! You may go.”

“Perfect.”

The second voice reached for the window, “Good evening.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Looking good as always Mr. Gauss”

Once I had everything I left for my own apartment. When I reach the elevator, I saw that Francis was holding the door.

“Oh, thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” he said, “Izaack is also coming so I thought I might wait for both.”

I joined in and backed up against the wall, standing next to him.

“Our prettiest doorman is joining us today, its always a pleasure walking with you” Izaack mentioned as the door shuts, “Did you think about my proposal?”

I sighed for what seems like the thousandth time today. “I am not interested in going on a date with you, thanks.”

“Oh, come on, (Y/N).” He insisted. “It’s going to be fun, I promise. And I’m not just talking about dinner, you know?”

He stepped closer to me. Suddenly, I felt slightly trapped in that elevator. I tried to move further back, but I was already up against the wall. Isaack started to raise his hand to grab me by the chin and possibly bring me even closer to him. However, it didn't come to that. A body came between me and the raised hand.

“Geez, Francis, relax” Isaack chuckled. “I was just messing arround.”

The doors to the elevator opened on the second floor. Isaack was walking out into the corridor, but looked back before the doors closed again.

“You sure can be scary when you’re angry Mosses” He gave that characteristic smile of his. “See you tomorrow.”

The doors closed and Francis moved out of the way.

“Thank you” I whispered to him.

“Hm.” He raised his hand and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Listen, if he ever bothers you again liked that, let me know, ok?”

“Oh, don’t worry, Francis” I said while massaging the back of my neck “He's infuriating, that’s true, and persistent, but I can deal it him.”

The elevator reached the third floor.

“I mean it.” He said while leaving to his apartment. “I… I do worry about you.”

I was about to put the key in the door when I suddenly stopped and looked at him. He stared at me with his tired but expectant eyes.

"I didn't know..." An embarrassed but broad smile appeared on my face "Thank you, Francis, I care about you too, a lot."

He nodded and gave a small smile, turning and heading for his apartment. 

After all, there might be something more between us than I thought.

[cupid-yanverse]

Yandere!Doppelganger

He came back wrong.

He's been missing for days, you'd lost all hope. But then he's at your door, begging to be let in. You let him in, of course-he's your boyfriend after all!

He's so affectionate, much more than before. Always holding you, you hugging you, and kissing you.

He's doing the most to make your lives easier, and seems so much happier than before.

He refuses to say where he's been, though. He acts like he never went missing.

Something's off, you just can't quite put your finger on it. Was his smile too wide? Eyes that look almost haunted? Or were you seeing things?

The idea that this isn't him creeps in the back of your mind. But that's silly, right?

You pretend you don't see the way his shadow moves without him. How his smile seems to split his face in your peripherals. Or the way you can always feel eyes on you, his eyes, when he wasn't even in the room.

After all, he still loves you-adores you, even.

And he does!! He loves you so much. He misses you every moment he's away from you. He needs to be close, to hold your hand and kiss your face all over.

He works so hard to keep you happy! Yes, he knows you have so many questions, but those answers don't matter! On your love matters now.

He's aware that you're piecing things together, but he's not worried. He knows you'll stay. You have to stay.

[reikoknshii]

🩸 scarlet..milk? 🥛

Doppelganger Francis Mosses (Milkman) x Reader

500+ words

Requested by; @FoxxyyThePirateFox in wattpad

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚

You're a newly Hired Doorman for a Apartment thats owned by D.D.D. It'll be fine, well thats what the D.D.D. operators said to you before you get started.

You opened the list of residents thats supposed to arrive.

' Angus Ciprianni '

' Nacha Mikaelys '

' Izaack Gauss '

' Arnold Schmicht '

'I can do this...i think?' You said to yourself as you breathed in and out before opening the metal door.

First thing to arrive shocked you, Its those twin models whom you saw in the magazine.Except...they only had a Giant Razor teeth on their face.

You didn't spend a minute to check their Documents as their appearance already proved they're not the real ones. You immediately click the emergency button and called the D.D.D. cleaning services.

"Does that mean ill...have to face more of those?" You asked to yourself as this job surely need intense observation, you don't want to let one in and let it kill the innocent lives of the apartment residents.

═════════•°•⚠️•°•═════════

You've seen... 4 doppelgangers that look horrifying, except for one, The Peach guy seem abit scary but they only said peach and nothing more.

You checked the list and hoped the one's you let in are the actual resident, you don't want to die just yet by your stupid decisions and weak observation.

You slump to your seat and groaned on the files you're holding. "Almost time, just a few more guest and ill close the entrance" you reassured yourself as you composed a brave and determined look.

"Mm...hello"

A voice said as you look up from the files and almost dropped it. "JESUS- WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?-"

you questioned the milkman who stayed silent for abit before answering. "I seem to have covered myself with scarlet milk..mm.."

You dart your eyes on his ID and Entry request, as he stared intensely at you through the protected glass window.

"I...never heard of it" you said nervously about the 'Scarlet milk'.

"I assure you...its a better version of the milk we had" he said creepily as he showed a jug of a red substance labeled as 'Milk'. He smiled in an eerie way as you shivered in fear , getting goosebumps from his behavior.

"I seriously dont think thats milk-"

Your eyes went wide as he opens the jug of scarlet 'milk' and drinks it in front of you. The substance dripped from his mouth to his neck , he pulled the jug away and smiled widely through the protected glass window. The so called milk staining more of his milkman uniform as he slammed his fist on the window.

"L̸̖̽̌͂ẹ̿͋̒̕t̲̂̓ͩ̑ ḿ̬̏ͤͅẹ̿͋̒̕ ỉ͔͖̜͌ṇ̤͛̒̍.."

You shrieked in fear as you slammed the emergency button from his creepy behavior, you were sure thats not the real Francis Mosses. The metal cover shut in front of him as he repeatedly bang his fist on the covers.

"Ỵ̛̖͋͢/ṇ̤͛̒̍...l̙͖̑̾ͣẹ̿͋̒̕t̲̂̓ͩ̑ ḿ̬̏ͤͅẹ̿͋̒̕ ỉ͔͖̜͌ṇ̤͛̒̍, l̙͖̑̾ͣẹ̿͋̒̕t̲̂̓ͩ̑ ḿ̬̏ͤͅẹ̿͋̒̕ ỉ͔͖̜͌ṇ̤͛̒̍...L̸̖̽̌͂Ḛͭ̉̇͟T̨͈͗̌ͥ M͉̅ͮ͒ͤḚͭ̉̇͟ I̍̅̀̎̊N̺̻̔̆ͅ" said the doppelganger as you called the D.D.D. cleaning Services immediately out of fear.

═════════•°•⚠️•°•═════════

You were shaken by the current occurrences, your eyes darting everywhere from the window as your hour of  work shift ends. You closed the metal cover and got out of the office you're in, on the entrance window you see the blood covered jug on the floor and a small note...

"I'm watching you...."

[mayullla]

Title: Creature's Infatuation

Character(s): Doppelganger (Unnamed character/original work) Summary: The servants didn't know that their abusive noble was switched for a monster that looked like him. You forced to marry him knew tho, that he created everything to have you in his arms. Tags/Warnings: Yandere!monster, fem!reader, yandere!monster x noble!reader, general yandere themes, manipulation, brainwashing, blackmail, forced feminization, noncon pet play, forced intimacy, imprisonment, tentacles, 1.2k words

Author's Note: This is an old one-shot of mine that I didn't post for a long time inspired the yandere viscount so it is similar to it.

You didn't know how dangerous monsters could be… that some could turn into humans and blend into the crowd and you would be none the wiser.

If you were wiser… if you knew what would happen to you… you would hesitate even just a little, even just a second to help anyone who you saw in need. Maybe then you would not be locked up in this horrible mansion after selling yourself to pay off your noble aristocratic family debt.

You were nothing but a slave to him, with his affection and sick love, he kept you by his side. Nobody could know what happened here when everything was covered by thick curtains and dimmed lights. The servants here were nothing more than puppets. Their minds, which this monster had eaten just a little bit, placed itself, done just to get ever so closer to you and keep you locked here. He manipulated their thoughts while letting them think that they were still human.

You glared at the mansion, you glared at him who had caused you this suffering. Yet for the sake of something precious, you would give up that aristocratic pride, swallowing it down as you begged him to spare your family from their downfall. You said that you would give him anything he wants. 

And all he wanted was you.

He told you that he would give you everything when he only did the opposite. What he said was nothing more than food that was taken away from you the moment you rebelled over the fantasies he had in his head.

He made you wear many costumes, dresses, and outfits, each and every one an arrow to your pride as he held your waist from the back dreamily looking at the mirror of you and him, telling you his disgusting and vile thoughts he was imagining when he first saw those clothes, how he imagined them on you.

The dresses that you usually wore were taken away the first day you signed the contract that you would be forever his. "Boring and lackluster," he told you. He would dress you with finer fabrics and silks that would make him excited to see, unlike the “dull and humble” dresses that you wore. It was unbefitting for you, he told you the first day, but you did see them later locked in a chest. Why he kept them, you didn't even want to know, not after you realized how perverted he was.

Gems and pearls of all kinds of accessories were also sewn into your new clothes. You were sure they would make a duchess or even a princess green with envy. He had gotten you almost all the latest trends that he fancied, which was almost all except the ones where much was covered.

Maid clothes that were more flamboyant, more revealing with a shorter shirt too short to even be appropriate. He had a particular fondness for lacy details, the more delicate the better.

Sometimes he would make you wear dog ears or cat ears, making you wear a collar as he cooed condescendingly, stroking your hair as he ordered you to get down and put your chin on his knee or forced you to sit on his lap.

Sometimes having you wear costumed shoes with heels too high to walk on. Barely able to walk on them, he would carry you, dreaming of how this was how a prince would carry his pretty princess. You wanted nothing more than to rip them off your feet, but with thick buckles and locks, it was practically impossible to take them off unless you chopped your feet.

To him, you became his pet, maid, princess, and whatever else perverted thing he managed to think up. Everything that happened in the mansion would never go out. The maids and servants didn't seem to care much about you, nor did they ever realize that the noble they served and some adored was a monster.

That the person they once thought to be him was long gone, rotting in some ditch as the monster took on his role just to make a situation that fits.

All they cared about was that their master had changed for the better, so in love with his wife that he shopped for all the violent acts he had done in the past. Not understanding that this was all wrong. Not knowing that he had control over their minds, that in reality, they were nothing more than lifeless husks made to believe that they were alive and that whatever he was doing to you was nothing more than normal.

From how he would lock you in a room as punishment, or how he would force you to feed him on his lap with overly revealing attire unfit for a noblewoman as he continued to be so fond of you.

Some days he would ask you if you loved him, loved him as much as he does to the point of obsession. The hurt in his eyes as he held you tighter asking what you wanted that would make you happy, "Why don't you love me as much as I do?" He would ask, as you watched tentacles move around the desk writing papers that were related to work. Tentacles that were connected to his back.

He pulled you closer to him, arms holding your waist tight, already forced to sit on his lap against your chest to touch his, which forced you to look up at him, unable to look anywhere else. Even if you were able to, it would be a bad decision to do so when he got angry.

Just as much as he loved dressing you up, you also have watched him morph many times, into something or someone else to make whatever fantasy even more real. The doors locked so that no one could come in, the windows shut so that no one could see through, and the lights but only from the flickering candle. "Do you want me to look like your lover? Would you love me more if I looked like him?" He asked, pulling your thigh closer to him, as you watched him morph, becoming nothing more than black goop to the man who you once loved.

The soft smile on his lips and the brightness of his eyes made you think that he finally loved you. It fluttered your heart but also sent shivers down your spine, as you knew that this wasn't your crush.

He was desperate for your love, yet at the same time, he was sadistic, forcing you to love him. There were days when he threatened you to stay by his side, unless you wanted to go out of the room or mansion naked, or face something worse. Your only choice was to stay there or hold his arm like a love-sick wife who loved him just as much as he loved her.

You felt gross, so vile, by this monster parading as a human and also forcing you to love him. But he didn't care, as long as he could see that you loved him and were by his side, playing by whatever whims he had in the bedroom or office. You were the person he had fallen in love with when he sneaked into the town of humans. You were kinder than anyone he had met. He had fallen in love with you that day and would do anything to keep you with him. He would even kill and take over the body of a noble just to get closer to you.

So long as you belonged to him.

[naeverse]

You're Not My Husband

~Ｖｉｃｅ ＃２~

𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝟐: 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐌𝐲 𝐃𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐥𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫

(𝐎𝐜𝐭. 𝟔-𝟏𝟐)

----

𝘓𝘶𝘴𝘵:

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘦'𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘫𝘶𝘥𝘨𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘳.

-

𝘓𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘧𝘪𝘦𝘴.

"𝘙𝘰𝘥𝘦𝘰" - 𝘓𝘢𝘩 𝘗𝘢𝘵 

“𝘚𝘩𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴” - 𝘊𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘢 𝘊𝘢𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘰

Art was found on Pinterest. All credit goes to the original artists, designers, and photographers.

🕷️staring: Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

      🩸preview: 

Placing in the brown contacts that he’d made last minute to hide his red irises and removing the black square frames from his sleeping, pathetic variant, he gazed at himself in the car mirror. There, he found himself—but not truly him.

Just a version of Miguel you would believe in…

A weaker variant of himself, the Spider Society Leader was willing to be for you.

🖤summary: After the tragic death of his daughter, Gabriella, Miguel is consumed by emptiness and darkness. Desperate for solace, he discovers you—a woman from another dimension—trapped in an unfulfilling marriage with a lesser version of himself. Seeing you reignites something in him, and he knows he must have you, no matter the consequences.

❤️tw/cw: Big Dick Miguel, Biting, Body worship, Claiming, Cock bulge, Desperation, Deception, Doppelganger, Dirty Talk, Human Miguel O’Hara, Identity Play, Imposter Fantasty, Fantasies, Fantasizing, Fingering, Marking, Multiple Orgasms, Rough sex, Spiderman-2099, Tits Worship

🕸️Pet names: Amor (Love), Bebé (Baby), Cariño (Darling), Esposa (Wife), Hiel (Honey), Mi amor (My love)

     🩸Rating: 18+ explicit I SMUT I

 🕷️ Word Count: 8k words 

“Miguel…”

The enchanted voice called out to him like a siren beckoning from the depths. The image of the magnificent woman before him—you—appeared, your hair blowing gently in the wind, sunlight illuminating each strand, making you look even more ethereal. Your skin glistened, and your eyes sparkled with a warmth that made his heart clench.

You were perfect, almost unreal, yet so tangible it ached.

“Miguel.” You smiled, that same smile that could quell his hot temper, soothe the desire in him that had been lost since his daughter passed, and unravel the most intricate parts of him, leaving him bare and vulnerable for the first time in a long while.

His chest tightened, his heart pounded, and he knew without a doubt that this woman was meant to be his…

“Miguel!?”

The voice called out again, but it wasn’t your soft, hypnotizing one. No, it was distant, sharp, snapping him back to reality.

Miguel flinched, his senses kicking in as he stood inside his office, his muscular body rigid under his blue and red holographic suit. His red eyes focused on Jessica Owens, his right-hand, standing in front of him, her arms crossed and eyebrows raised in both confusion and frustration.

“Did you hear anything I just said?” she asked, peering at him through her shades, evidently noticing his distraction.

Clearing his throat and blinking his dazed eyes, Miguel tried to compose himself, his thoughts still lingering on you, trapped in the endless loops of desire that seemed to consume him. Running a tired hand through his unkempt, dark curls, he released a deep sigh. “Mis disculpas… could you repeat that?”

Jessica eyed him warily, sighing. “I was talking about the anomaly in Earth-274 that LYLA detected,” she stated, her gloved fingers moving along the gizmo on her wrist, displaying the rampaging Green Goblin anomaly. “He’s been creating chaos since his arrival. We need to capture him and send him back to his dimension before he causes any more damage.”

Miguel hummed in acknowledgment, though his attention was barely on her words, simply appearing to listen. His mind was still reeling, the image of you seared into his consciousness.

He turned his back to Jessica, fingers moving across the neon-yellow keyboards of his monitors in a distracted manner. Holographic screens beamed brightly, displaying surveillance data, Spider Society operations, and loose anomalies like the Green Goblin variant… but hidden behind the chaos was your world.

Earth-956.

Jessica’s voice became background noise as he stared at the monitors. His mind wandered back to you again—to your laughter, the way your eyes shimmered when you smiled, the hypnotizing, graceful way your body moved…

It drove him mad.

He couldn’t keep doing this.

Jessica’s gaze lingered on him, and Miguel knew his right-hand could sense something was off.

And she would be correct—Miguel was anything but okay.

His appearance had grown disheveled. His tan skin had become pale and gaunt from lack of sleep. The usual sharpness in his red eyes had dulled, haunted by sleepless nights replaced with lust and longing. His dark brown hair was messy, the bags beneath his eyes deeper than ever.

But, as always, he waved off her concern.

“I’m fine, Jess,” he growled, his voice tight. “I’ll send you and a team to handle the anomaly on Earth-274. I don’t want any mistakes. Entiende?”

“Yeah, sure,” she replied, though suspicion and worry were evident in her voice. Miguel could hear her hesitance—the opening and closing of her mouth to speak—before she ultimately left, her footsteps fading into the distance.

The second the doors to his office sealed shut, Miguel let out a shaky breath, relief washing over him.

The buzz of electronics and the hum of Nueva York outside his window barely registered as he stood there, his chest heaving. All he could think about was you, the woman from Earth-956.

The one thing that kept him tethered to this madness.

“Ay, coño… I can’t keep doing this,” he muttered, his voice low and gravelly, scolding himself as he fought the ache coursing through his body. His fingers itched, craving just one more glimpse of you before he denied himself completely. Just one more moment of pretending…

“One last time.” He told himself the same lie every time, but the need was too strong. It clawed at him, consumed him. His hands moved on their own, bringing up the hidden screen, and there you were—like a light in the darkness.

“Come on, my love, you have work,” your voice floated through the feed, gentle and warm. He watched you walk across your bedroom, your hair falling perfectly, your skin glowing in the morning light. The sight of you always made Miguel’s heart leap into his throat.

The Spider Society Leader had discovered you by mistake while scanning the multiverse for anomalies, and from the moment he saw you, he knew he had to have you.

He adored the way you laughed, the way you moved, the way you said his name—even though it wasn’t him you were addressing.

“Hmm… yes, mi amor. I’m getting up,” came the familiar, sleepy voice of Miguel’s own. The one who looked like him but lacked everything that made him, him. The sight made his blood boil.

It was the other Miguel—the human version of himself from Earth-956. The weak, pathetic variant that didn’t deserve you. Miguel watched as this powerless copy of himself, with glasses and a smaller physique, shuffled into the frame, hugging you from behind.

Miguel’s red eyes narrowed in anger, growling in envy when Earth-956 Miguel nuzzled your neck, his hands stroking your stomach. The human Miguel pressed his cheek to yours, his voice low and apologetic. “Are you angry with me, mi amor?”

“No, of course not.” You hastily replied, but there was a sadness in your voice that Miguel could hear clearly, even if your husband couldn’t. “I just… I miss you.”

The human Miguel kissed the side of your neck, his affection weak and empty.

Pathetic.

“It’s just another project. I promise I won’t be home late again.”

‘La perra débil siempre dice esto.’ Miguel thought, the rage in him bubbling up. This other version of himself was throwing away everything that mattered—you—and for what? More time at Alchemax? More time busying himself with chemicals and useless projects? More nights away from his precious wife?

It made Miguel sick.

You pulled away from your husband, the hurt in your eyes piercing Miguel’s heart. “I just want my husband back,” you said, your voice brittle as you walked out of the bedroom. The human Miguel didn’t chase after you. He simply stood there, devastated, watching your retreating form before getting dressed for work.

Miguel clenched his fists, his sharp talons digging into his palms, enough to draw blood. Hearing the sadness and longing in your voice tore him apart. You needed someone to comfort you, to love you, to give you the affection you deserved.

Something Miguel desired in you just as deeply…

Earth-956 Miguel didn’t deserve you. He didn’t know how to love you, how to keep you.

But Miguel O’Hara did…

You wanted a child, and Earth-956 Miguel couldn’t even give you that. All his time was spent in the labs, toiling away at meaningless work while you were left alone at home.

It made Miguel furious. Angry growls slipped past his lips at the sight of his weaker counterpart, so blissfully ignorant of what he had.

Miguel’s mind raced. The thought had been gnawing at him for weeks, the seed of an insane idea growing until it consumed him entirely.

He could take Earth-956 Miguel’s place. Just for a day—even a moment—and he could give you the child you wanted, the life you deserved. It would be so easy—pose as him, slip into your world while the weakling wasted his life at Alchemax.

He would make you his, and you wouldn’t even know the difference…

Miguel O'Hara knew the risks. He’d attempted happiness before, only for the universe to deny him, taking his daughter and leaving him colder and emptier.

So yes, he was afraid…

But the sound of your weeping from the guest bedroom, and the sight of Earth-956 Miguel leaving the house, the door locking behind him, only solidified Miguel’s decision.

“I’m coming, mi amor,” he whispered to your sobbing form on the screen, his fingers reaching out to the holographic display, aching to console you, to erase all the sadness from your life—knowing he would, soon enough.

“I’m coming.”

You grumbled, picking up another of Miguel's many shoes left astray in front of the bed. ‘Can’t you clean up after yourself?’ you thought, understanding your husband’s passion for his work, but growing frustrated with his workaholic tendencies.

‘It always leads to this,’ you sighed, carrying the shoes to the foyer, where you neatly placed them on the shoe rack.

Dusting off your hands, you glanced around the home you and your husband shared. It was spacious, with three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen, dining room, living room, and even a study for Miguel—though he hardly used it.

Your eyes drifted over the large portraits hanging on the walls of the foyer, giving anyone who visited the impression of a happy, loving couple.

But that wasn’t your reality anymore…

The huge grins, loving gazes, and passionate kisses captured in the photos were like scenes from a forgotten fairy tale. Now, you could only hope your husband makes it home for supper and wouldn’t fall asleep at the dining table.

Your heart sank at the revelation.  What happened? Where did things go wrong between you and your beloved?

Is he falling out of love?

Has he found someone new?

Is he…

Cheating?

A tremor of fear ran through your body, making you ache.

But deep down, you knew the cause of your marriage’s decline.

A child…

Ever since you and Miguel married two years ago, you both dreamed of having a baby—someone to love and cherish, knowing it was the embodiment of your shared adoration.

But no matter how hard you tried, it never happened.

After countless failed attempts and doctors offering no explanations or solutions, Miguel eventually gave up on the idea of having a child. His voice was filled with defeat when he said it was impossible. He couldn’t even meet your eyes that night.

Devastation didn’t begin to cover how you felt.

Since then, it seemed as if Miguel had given up on everything, including your relationship.

Now, your once passionate marriage felt like a hollow shell.

Fighting back tears, you turned away from the photos that once told the story of your happy marriage and headed into the living room. Settling onto the sofa, you wiped your wet cheeks, trying to erase the traces of your sorrow.

“Television always helps,” you muttered, forcing a small smile as you pulled a throw blanket over your body, dressed comfortably in a matching shirt and shorts.

You grabbed the remote and quickly found a show you liked, hoping it would distract you from the heaviness in your chest. For a while, it worked—laughter bubbled out of you, the show helping you forget your pain, even if just for a moment.

But then a single tear slipped down your cheek, betraying the sadness still lurking beneath.

“Aww, man, was that seriously the last episode?” you sighed, realizing you’d soon run out of shows if you kept binge-watching like this.

Reaching for your glass and the wine bottle, you frowned when both were empty. You’d only just opened that bottle, hadn’t you?

You gave the bottle a little shake, hearing the last few drops swish inside. The desire for just more wine, for that brief numbness, tugged at you.

Glancing at your phone, you saw the time: 7:10 p.m.

“Gosh, Miguel wouldn’t like me going out this late—especially just for wine,” you pouted. But the craving was strong.

“It’ll just be a quick run,” you began to reason, but your thoughts were interrupted by a sound. ‘Did the door just open?’ You couldn’t believe it—Miguel never came home this early.

“Cariño, I’m home!” 

The familiar voice of your husband filled the house, confirming your suspicions. Hastily, you stood and moved to the foyer, bare feet padding against the floor until you came face-to-face with him.

In utter disbelief, you watched as he took off his black oxfords, placing them neatly on the shoe stand. “I... I thought you were working late today,” you uttered as he turned to face you.

The trench coat, beige collared shirt, and brown slacks he wore seemed to hug him tightly, accentuating muscles that appeared more defined than usual. You pushed aside the hidden admiration for your husband’s new physique and walked over to him.

“Have you been working out lately? You seem… bigger,” you remarked, reaching to help him remove his coat, carefully sliding it off his broad shoulders before hanging it up.

Oddly, Miguel didn’t respond. He just stared at you, silent.

Raising an eyebrow, you glanced over your shoulder at him, worry creeping into your features. “Miggy… are you okay?”

Miguel O’Hara watched you—the woman he’d dreamed of, the one he’d longed to be close to—as you moved around him, touching him, so unaware of the truth.

Miguel had followed his plan perfectly. He’d completed his tasks at the Spider Society, disabled LYLA with a fake technical error, and entered Earth-956. 

Tracking down his human counterpart at Alchemax had been almost too easy. Creeping through the lab’s vents and knocking the weakling out with a blow to the head felt strangely satisfying.

After undressing his unconscious self and stealing his car, Miguel was able to escape the place unnoticed and haul the man into the backseat.

As he headed to Earth-956, where you sat possibly watching television like you always did, Miguel felt his heart beating rapidly in his chest.

‘Would I be able to pull this off?’  

‘What if she finds out and I scare her shitless?’  

‘What if I lose her like Gabriella?’

Miguel’s mind raced, the last thought a hard pill to swallow. His large hands gripped the steering wheel, feeling the leather buckle under his strength. “Whatever happens, I did it for her happiness—my happiness…” he whispered, pulling into the driveway of his human self’s home.

For the first time in a long while, Miguel felt that familiar flutter in his chest. Amidst the butterflies of nervousness and fear in his stomach was one of anticipation.

Placing in the brown contacts that he’d made last minute to hide his red irises and removing the black square frames from his sleeping, pathetic variant, he gazed at himself in the car mirror. There, he found himself—but not truly him.

Just a version of Miguel you would believe in…

A weaker variant of himself, the Spider Society Leader was willing to be for you.

And for you, he stood in the foyer, gazing at the woman he knew like the back of his hand, yet he was an imposter inside your own home.

Shaking off the stupor, he cleared his throat. “Sí, I am, mi amor,” he assured fondly, giving you a smile that showed none of his fanged teeth.

You slowly nodded, believing it was the stress, returning to smoothing out his coat on the stand. “Well, there are leftovers in the fridge. You’ll have to warm them up—” A gasp escaped you when his large arms engulfed your center, hugging you from behind.

His body heat overwhelmed you, your husband’s hardened chest pressing into your backside, allowing you to feel every ridge of his abs and pecs—a musculature that you never knew was so defined. “M-Miggy…?” You called him in confusion, but you didn’t deny how your face filled with warmth at his touch.

You leaned back into his chest, your eyes fluttering closed as his cologne of sandalwood mixed with spicy undertones filled your senses, his scent always making you melt. The way he embraced you felt different from this morning, making you feel cherished and loved for the first time in a long while.

“Hmm?” Miguel hummed in response, running his broad nose under your jaw and along your neck, inhaling you deeply. You smelled just as sweet and felt as soft as he thought you’d be.

His rough hands stroked your stomach through your shirt and circled your navel with his thumb. “How have you been today, mi amor?” he purred into your ear. “I know I don’t ask a lot, and I’m sorry.” Miguel muttered, giving your smaller body a gentle squeeze.

Your heart clenched at his question of concern, as he’d never asked before. “I’ve been…fine,” you lied, as usual, never wanting to worry him. Placing a hand over his, you traced the ridges of his knuckles and interlocked your fingers with his, not remembering the last time he touched and explored your body. 

A disapproving growl, almost animalistic, rang from his chest at your answer. “No me mientas, bebé. Be honest with me,” he scolded softly, his rough hand engulfing yours, running his thumb over your knuckles.

You bit your lip, unsure about being honest. However, he felt different today…

More caring, affectionate, loving…

Just like he was all those years ago.

“I…I felt…terrible,” you confessed aloud for the first time in years. “I-I was looking at our…pictures, and I couldn’t help wondering what happened to us, Miggy?” You asked, pulling out of his hold to turn to face him.

Keeping your hands in his, you gazed up at your husband, your eyes taking in his tired features and, despite attempting to be neat, messy hair. “Did I upset you? Anger you? You desperately asked. “Do you not…love me anymore because I was unable to grant you what you…wanted?” A broken sob you’d been trying to hold back tumbled free, followed by streams of tears.

At the sight of your tears, Miguel felt utterly devastated, each sob from your pretty lips bringing him immense pain he had never experienced before. He immediately sought to silence your cries. ‘Bebé, what you’re saying is tontería. It’s not true,’ he said softly, cupping your face and swiftly wiping the endless tears from your cheeks.”

You shook your head, crying in his hold. “H-how? You've done n-nothing but avoid me, Miggy,” you explained, your cheeks rosy and your eyes glossy. “You constantly stay at work, miss dinner, and I know y-you try, but at times I feel like…I feel like you do not love me. Not like you used to.”

Miguel watched with a mixture of sorrow and anger at the byproduct of his pathetic human self's actions. ‘How dare he hurt you so much? How dare he cause you to shed a single tear?’ he thought, wanting to erase your sadness, starting with removing these delusions.

Earth-956 Miguel probably avoided you, stayed at work, and missed supper—hell, the bastard possibly didn’t love you anymore—but Miguel O'Hara did.

He fell in love the moment he saw you…

Without warning, he pulled you close, his lips claiming yours in an instant, quieting your worries and cries.

He swallowed the surprised gasp you gave him as his hands cradled your face in his palms. Miguel wanted to cease your doubts about not being loved and to show you exactly who you belonged to.

Your eyes widened, your brain unable to keep up. ‘Miguel… is kissing me!?’ You were shocked.

It had been so long since your husband showed his adoration, let alone kissed you like you were his. Your heart fluttered, hands tentatively moving to grip his beige shirt, bunching the fabric at his hips to tug him closer.

This moment felt so surreal; just this morning, you had been arguing like always. Now he was showering you with the love you had been craving for years.

“Miguel…” You whimpered, your much smaller fingers clawing at him, from his biceps to his hips and chest in desperation. The sensation made him harden under his slacks.

Suddenly, as if a switch had flipped, the restraint Miguel had melted away. He grunted against your lips, pushing you against the wall with enough force to send your couple portraits rattling. Like a beast, Miguel was atop you once more, his massive body trapping you beneath him.

“Careful!” You giggled, but were instantly silenced by another bruising kiss.

Your husband’s kisses were deep and demanding, as if he were trying to memorize the feel and taste of you. His hands explored your body with a possessiveness that made your head spin, gripping your ass and sliding up your back as if he couldn’t get enough.

Every touch, every kiss was rougher and more insistent, much different from the loving and gentle intimacy he had shown you in the past.

A breathy moan escaped your parted lips when Miguel’s large hands engulfed your breasts, kneading them roughly through the fabric of your shirt. “Goodness, Miguel… I didn’t expect you to be like this.” You panted between sloppy kisses, believing it was the lack of intimacy that was causing this new and more passionate display of affection.

Miguel simply grunted in response, the Spider Society Leader completely blinded by lust. One hand left your chest to grip a fistful of your hair, tugging your head back to expose your bare neck. At the sight of your untouched skin, Miguel practically salivated, attacking your throat.

You gasped, biting your lip when he pulled your hair. The slight sting on your scalp was a foreign sensation that you instantly adored. Humming in bliss, his lips along your throat made your head foggy, as if he were kissing your very soul.

“I’ve been neglecting you, babygirl, haven’t I?” Miguel asked, trailing his fangs along your skin, feeling you tremble at the sensation. The sweet nod you gave made his heart clench, fueling his desire further. “Let me make it up to you, cariño.” He purred, nipping harshly at your neck, leaving red love bites that he lapped at to soothe you, his discretion forgotten.

You whimpered, unsure of what you were feeling in your overwhelming state. “M-Miguel…” His name was all you could breathe, your nipples hardening under your shirt, clearly displaying your lack of a bra underneath.

Miguel’s mouth halted, ready to add another mark to your precious neck when his eyes snapped down to your chest, noticing the peaks. He smirked, pulling away to meet your hooded gaze. “Mi chica traviesa, traviesa,” he cooed, marveling at your breasts. “It seems you want me more than I believed.” Miguel teased, cupping your breasts and thumbing the hardened nubs.

You moaned, his touch sending tingles throughout your being. Gazing into the eyes of your husband, you discovered pure ravenous need staring back at you—a look you had never seen before, but it made you wetter than ever.

“I do; I’ve wanted you for a while, my love.” You genuinely told him, sticking to the agreement of honesty between the two of you.

However, your eyes widened, and your body warmed in pleasure as Miguel swiped his tongue along your cheek, coating your face with his warm saliva.

“Fuck, cariño, I’m one lucky bastard—” he rambled, kissing your lips, cheeks, neck, and collarbone, seeming to be everywhere at once, his hands following suit. “To have such an incredible, loving, and sexy wife.” Miguel muttered, leaving your breasts unattended as his hand descended lower, causing your heart to thump loudly in your chest.

“Joder, cómo tuvo tanta suerte?” he hissed, your husband’s words falling on deaf ears when his hand cupped your sex, making you squeak in surprise.

Moaning, he began to rub you, his palm pressing into your throbbing bud. “Hmm, I love you so much, esposa. Do you love me?” Miguel asked, his deep voice airy and full of lust, seeking your love.

Your mind was jumbled, unable to think of an answer when your touch-starved body was finally getting the attention it craved. Frantically, you nodded, grinding on his palm. “Y-Yes, always.”

The Spider Society Leader cursed under his breath, your shared adoration being what he had always wanted to hear from your pretty lips.

‘Shit, I can’t wait any longer,’ he thought, feeling the drool trickling down his jaw, his cock leaking precum inside his slacks, and talons threatening to extend from the tips of his fingers if he didn’t have you.

Right at this very moment…

“I need you, mi amor,” Miguel growled in a strained voice, a yelp escaping you when he hoisted you up in his arms. 

Your legs clung to his waist, arms wrapping around his neck as his large hands grasped the underside of your thighs. A blush sprouted on your cheeks at the feeling of his erection throbbing against your core.

For the first time, when you looked at your husband, he appeared alive and energetic; even his skin seemed to be glowing.

You didn't know what had happened today at work to cause such a change, but nonetheless, you were beyond thankful for it.

Giving him a nod, you claimed his lips once more, needing him just the same.

Miguel smirked against your mouth, effortlessly carrying you through the dim hallways of your home.

His legs wandered the place like he always lived there, climbing the stairs with ease while satisfying your craving for his lips. Miguel devoured your pretty mouth, kissing and suckling your eager tongue that yearned for him as he did for you.

Upon reaching your shared bedroom, Miguel kicked open the door, not hesitating to toss you onto the bed.

You laughed as you landed on the mattress, feeling it sink under your weight. Laying on your back, your legs sprawled beneath you, your eyes peered teasingly up at your spouse. “You are being so rough… I kinda like it,” you told him with a smirk.

Miguel snickered, a hidden excitement in the back of his mind at the knowledge of not truly being your husband, yet you were enjoying everything he was giving you.

“Good,” the Spider Society Leader purred, removing his shirt with an effortless pull at the lapels of his button-up. Buttons flew, and fabric tore, but Miguel couldn’t be bothered; his eyes were trained on you.

His loving wife.

Your eyes widened, every moment with your spouse surprising you. “Miguel, your shirt—” Your words fell flat, practically choking when he revealed himself to you.

Removing the remnants of the destroyed button-up, your husband’s chest was on full display.

With an agape mouth and gaze of astonishment, you gawked at his defined pectoral muscles, the evident 8-pack that flexed with every movement, the pulsating veins from his burly arms, and lastly, how hairy your husband was.

Dark brown coarse hair covered his chest and descended from his navel, under his slacks, practically making you drool.

The amount of body hair was unlike him, knowing he was always about being clean and neat, but tonight, he had been different ever since he stepped through the door.

Perhaps this new him was everything you had ever wanted…

“I see someone has been… making some changes without my knowledge,” you said, trying to hide how arousing his rugged appearance was. “You've also been working out, it seems.”

Miguel raised a thick eyebrow, glancing down at his hairy body that was full of rippling muscles and sinewy limbs that coursed with the power from his mutation.

He wanted to mentally curse, knowing his muscular body type was too extreme compared to Earth-956 Miguel’s, your rightful husband.

But when the Spider Society Leader met your gaze of desire and saw how you bit your lip, it brought the beast out of him once more.

Abruptly, Miguel joined you on the bed, his body atop yours. He kissed along your neck and lapped at the previous markings he had given you. “Yeah, you like?” Miguel hummed.

You nodded, cupping his face. “Yes, but not as much as this,” you muttered, running a hand along his hairy chest, feeling the coarse strands tickle your palm.

I like this new you,” you whispered, meeting his glasses-covered eyes. “You should show this side of yourself more, hm?” Teasingly, you added, giggling as you reached out to remove his black square glasses and set them on your nightstand, eager to see your husband’s sexy features without the frames.

Miguel’s heart skipped a beat at your words, falling in love with you even more.

He pulled you into a searing kiss, groaning into your mouth and finding himself incapable of getting used to the sweet taste of you. His hands moved down to grab the front of your shirt; with ease, he tore open the fabric, releasing your bare breasts.

Your reaction was cut short as your husband descended down your body, sucking a tit into his mouth.

Whimpering, your fingers gripped the strands of his dark brown hair, tugging and holding him close. A nip from his very sharp teeth on your hardened peaks made you yelp

Miguel chuckled, swirling his tongue around your aching nipple, calming the sting from his bite. “You’re even more perfect than I’ve imagined,” he muttered against your skin, pulling away to gaze down at you.

Your spouse’s hands hastily began to unbuckle and unzip his pants to free his throbbing cock. “Undress, mi amor.” His words caused your heart to skip a beat. “Show me the pussy that belongs to me.”

Your chest heaved, your thighs sticky with arousal that ached for your husband. Looking up at him, you couldn’t help but marvel at the idea of him being yours to love for the rest of your life— a thought you believed had faded years ago but was restored on this very night.

Matching his pace, you swiftly tugged your shirt off, freeing your bare breasts, and shimmied off your shorts to expose your legs and clothed pussy.

The Spider Society Leader groaned, your arousal filling his nose. “Fuck, you smell so good, bonita.” He purred, removing his boxers and pants to finally relieve his throbbing cock.

Your gaze traveled over your husband’s shaft, noticing it was surrounded by a bush of pelvic hair and seemed bigger and thicker than you remembered, believing it was due to his arousal. You bit your lip at the effect you had on him. “Gosh, I missed you so much,” you told him lovingly, spreading your legs and revealing your soaked panties.

A groan escaped Miguel at your words, precum dripping down his length at the sight of you.

He felt a burning in his chest to allow his true self to break free, to ravage you like the beast he knew he was and grant you what you desired.

And so he did...

His red eyes, concealed by brown contact lenses, darkened, and a growl escaped him. “You missed me, cariño?” he asked with a dark smirk, not bothering to hide his fangs that dripped with venom. “Then show me,” Miguel chuckled, stepping back to allow you room to obey his command. “On all fours. Ass up.”

Your eyebrows furrowed for a moment; the authoritative tone in his voice was unlike anything you’d ever heard from your husband. You watched with hidden interest as he stood behind you, stroking his large shaft, precum dripping onto the floor. Miguel’s eyes were narrowed, his face stern while waiting for you to comply. 

You might not have experienced this new act of intimacy your spouse was showing you, but you didn’t want to disappoint him—not when you were so close to having him be yours again…

Moving into position, you turned to balance on your hands and knees, your rear facing your husband as he requested. Glancing over your shoulder at him, you felt a sense of satisfaction wash over you at his look of approval. “Good girl,” he praised, biting your lip when the bed creaked behind you, his body heat engulfing you from behind.

Miguel eyed his sweet wife, running his large palm along the rear of the woman that was now his. He  knew that once he claimed you, you’d never go back to the pathetic version of him known as your husband. 

The Spider Society Leader ran a thumb along your clothed core, feeling it quiver under his digit. “Hmm... this pussy is begging for me, isn’t it, amor?” he laughed, sliding your panties to the side to reveal your dripping entrance.

Your breath hitched as the cold air brushed against your exposed intimate area. “Yes, Miguel, please. I need you,” you begged, arching your back and pushing your rear further towards him.

Miguel felt his heart skip a beat, the sight in front of him being every image that filled his mind when he jerked off at night. The pleading that left your pretty lips for him was what he fantasized about while fighting anomalies. This sight before him was everything he’d ever wanted, and now it was actually happening.

‘Fuck, this has to be a dream,’ he thought, even when he knew it wasn’t. “Please, Miggy. Don’t make me wait any longer,” you begged once more, your words going straight to his cock.

“Mierda,” he cursed, lining himself up and sinking into your delectable hole. Miguel growled, filling you instantly. “Joder, estás tan apretado, cariño,” he groaned, unable to wait as he slowly pulled out and slammed back in.

You moaned, your back arching at how good your husband made you feel. “Miguel! G-Goodness!” you cried out, not remembering the last time you both were intimate in this manner. 

However, this time felt different—more intense, more desperate.

Your voice reached a pitch you never thought possible as his shaft penetrated deeper inside you, his hands gripping your arms and pinning them to your back.Your ass was raised higher for your spouse, your face pressed into the mattress as inaudible moans escaped you with the change of angle.

The dominance he showcased was so unlike what you were used to, but it was something you instantly enjoyed.

Miguel bit his lip harshly, his grip tightening around your arms. “You like that? Like how my cock feels inside you, miel?” he asked, giving your ass a smack at your lack of response. The frantic nods and exclamations of agreement from your gaping mouth only increased Miguel’s effort.

His hips snapped, thrusting into his sweet wife. The clenching of your pussy around his shaft was intoxicating, his cock plunging into your soppy cunt. 

The sounds of wet skin and your gushing pussy bounced off the walls of your bedroom along with your combined cries.

“Yes, yes, yes!” you chanted, nails digging into your palms, your eyes rolling when the tip of your husband’s cock kissed your cervix. “Gosh! M-M-Miggy, I-I have to cum!” you choked, saliva trickling down your mouth, burying your face into the bed to muffle your cries. 

With a scream, your release crashed over you. Your body thrashed and quivered, your eyes squeezing shut as the intense tingles of pleasure coursed through you.

Your juices spilled down your trembling thighs as you felt your husband pull away, leaving you to catch your breath.

Breathing heavily, your body remained kneeled, back arched and face resting on the bed, your messy hair shielding your features. The aftershocks of your orgasm were more extreme than you’d ever felt before and it left you in utter ecstasy. 

Feeling pleased, you looked over your shoulder at your husband through your disheveled strands to find a surprising sight.

He was still... 

energetic.

“Do you still want more, my love?” you asked breathlessly in sheer amazement.

Your husband usually needed to rest after granting you one round of intimacy, requiring a moment of recovery. But tonight, he was changed...

Miguel groaned, his cock still aching for more of you. The desire he felt from the intimacy with you was still at an all-time high. “Always, I always want more, baby,” he breathed, releasing your arms to join you on the bed.

He tugged you to rest your back against his chest, your body molding perfectly to his hardened one. His hand lifted your leg, sliding his rigid cock along your slit and teasing you with his thick member. “I know you’ve always wanted a little one, mi amor,” Miguel whispered into your ear. 

“Why don’t we try one more time?”

Your eyes widened at your husband’s words, the shock and pleasure blending perfectly. Resting on your side, you cupped his face behind you, searching his features to ensure he was serious. “A-Are you sure? You... believed it wasn’t... meant to be years ago,” you told him between soft moans, the gentle peck on your temple from your spouse confirming your suspicions.

“I know, bebé. But I want to make you happy,” Miguel said, his gaze boring into yours, seeing the hope and love blooming inside. “I want to give you what you deserve, mi amor—what we deserve.”

To emphasize his words, he pushed into you once more, filling you to the hilt. You moaned; the eye contact between the two of you unbreaking as your husband thrust into you. His hand held your thigh, spreading you perfectly to take his cock with ease.

Your cries and the sound of your pussy’s squelching were music to Miguel’s ears, his fingers digging into the softness of your leg enough to bruise. “Fuck, you feel so good, cariño,” he growled, pounding into you vigorously.

Your eyes fluttered, instantly feeling that familiar burning in your stomach again “I-I’m close, M-Miggy,” you whined, your body very responsive and sensitive due to your lack of intimacy as of late.

Miguel snarled, increasing his pace. He buried his face in your hair, his balls slapping against your ass. “Cariño, I want you... to remember this moment,” he growled, his shaft pounding into you at an inhumane speed.

“When you become pregnant with our child, I want you to remember this—remember me,” he said, pulling away to use his other hand to grab a fistful of your hair, tugging you back to meet his eyes.

“I want you to know that it was I who made you happy—who granted you the child you've always wanted.” His words were punctuated with each rapid and precise thrust that took your breath away.

His fingers tightened in your hair as the ache in his groin and the tightening sensation of his balls grew. “Do you understand me, amor?” Miguel asked through parted lips, his fangs peeking out, but he doubted you’d noticed in your state.

He stared into the depths of your glazed eyes, hoping you’d grant his wish of being remembered even after he departed. 

You gazed at your husband, your heart skipping a beat. His words seemed to hold a deeper meaning, spoken in a manner that felt wistful, but you hoped you were wrong, blaming it on the fuzziness in your brain.

His groans and continuous thrusts made your stomach burn with pleasure as you nodded. When you looked at your husband, even in his disheveled state, you couldn’t deny that he looked sexier than ever.

Tonight, every feature about him made you fall in love all over again—from his messy hair and amber eyes to his defined cheekbones and large frame that always made you feel small yet guarded and protected.

Tonight, your husband rekindled your adoration for him and your marriage, which was everything you didn’t know you needed.

“Y-yes…” you replied amidst the wet slapping of skin. “I’ll r-remember, for y-you.”

Miguel’s heart clenched, his movements halting as you looked up at him in utter infatuation—a look he believed was meant for him, not the Earth-956 Miguel.

The hot-tempered and controlling Spider Society Leader had finally found what he was looking for: 

you.

Miguel groaned, smashing his lips against yours and moving in deep, slow thrusts. He wanted you to feel every moment.

When your spouse kissed you, it wasn’t filled with hunger and desperation like before; it was loving, which almost made you tear up.

The change in pace allowed you to relish every part of your husband, feeling the ridges and veins of his cock, the sheer girth of him, how he stretched you out perfectly and touched your G-spot so well that it made your toes curl.

It wasn’t long before you felt that high again—that need to release. “I-I’m cumming, M-Miggy, I’m cumming,” you said in a shaky voice, lying on your side with his muscular frame behind you, holding you close and showing his love with each pound of his cock.

The Spider Society Leader kissed your cheek as you shook in his hold, allowing your orgasm to overwhelm you. The way you screamed his name was everything to him; for once, you were addressing him, and he was no longer on the outside looking in.

Following your release, Miguel sped up. With a hiss, his shaft returned to its bestial pace, fucking into you like an animal in heat.

But it wasn’t long before the Spider Society Leader joined you in bliss.

With a deep thrust, a loud guttural groan erupted from his chest, releasing his load into you, filling you completely.

You moaned, arching your back against him, feeling yourself being stuffed. Your eyes squeezed shut in exhaustion as Miguel slowly pulled out.

Miguel brushed your hair from your face, taking in your stunning features. His heart clenched as he pressed gentle kisses on your shoulder and cheek, relishing each peck, knowing it would have to be his last.

He slowly rose to his full height, running his hand along your thighs and caressing your belly, hoping that by leaving a piece of him with you, it would grant you the happiness he wouldn’t be able to provide due to his absence.

Your husband’s loving touches comforted you. Sighing in relief, you felt him cover you with a blanket, the fabric soothing your jittery being. With a flick of a lamp, your bedroom was encased in darkness, except for the light beaming from Miguel’s side of the bed.

You could hear him moving around, making sure you were comfortable and content. However, when your eyes opened, you found him tugging on his pants, his massive body blocking the light as he put on his bottoms.

“Where are you…going?” you asked, the worry and sadness evident in your voice, Hastily, you sat up, tugging the blanket over your body, aware your hair looked like a total mess from your shared intimacy.

You didn’t want to go back to the ruin of your marriage, sleeping separately, with one of you in the guest bedroom while the other lay here.

You didn’t want to return to a marriage in which you weren’t happy, hoping your husband felt the same.

The longing for him was what Miguel feared. He couldn’t stay, no matter how much he wanted to.

But when he looked back at you sitting up in bed, your sad eyes practically on the verge of tears at his leaving made the thought of denying you impossible.

Smiling, he returned, crawling onto the bed and wrapping you in his arms. His arms engulfed you, holding you and seeking to let you go anytime soon.

“Thank you,” you whispered, snuggling closer and resting your face on his chest.

“Anything for you, mi amor.” His response making your heart flutter.

You lay with your husband, listening to his deep breathing and the faint thumping of his heart, feeling safe in his arms.

“I hope this moment never ends,” you said aloud, your fingers dancing across his defined abs and relishing in the expanse of muscle that encased you. 

Miguel took in your words and your hopes for this moment to last forever. Oblivious, you didn’t realize that desiring more of this moment meant wanting him, not your previous husband.

Glancing down at your form resting atop him, Miguel couldn’t help but let another insane thought creep into his mind.

It was perfect—perhaps a little wicked and cruel—but he was doing this for you. 

And your little one…

With a dark smirk, he tightened his arm around your waist, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

“Sí, let’s make this moment last forever…mi eposa…” 

A/N: That concludes “You’re Not My Husband!” Goodness, writing both Miguel as a human and as Spider-Man 2099 was a joy! I especially like the difference between the two. If you enjoyed it just as much as I did, please like, comment, reblog, and follow!

I’ll be making a separate post, but Happy Birthday to the love of my life, Miguel O'Hara!! ❤️😘💙

If you’re excited to see what else my older sister, @powerful-niya, and I have in store for Vicetober, stay tuned. 😈

Hope everyone has a wonderful day! Stay safe!!

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