#Tnmn fanfic

[notmyneighbor]

A New Neighbor - Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Female Reader, Francis Mosses x Nacha Mikaelys

Chapter 1

Word Count - 6.5k

Rating - Explicit

Content Warnings - cheating, pervert Francis Mosses, reader is an 18 yo highschool student and the new babysitter, fondling, masturbation

Also available on AO3

taglist - @kaislashes @unicorngirly1 @charli33-b33 @natiii727227

Things aren’t going well with Francis Mosses’ girlfriend Nacha Mikaelys.

The milkman is trying to make things work; he truly sees it that way. Their daughter Anastacha certainly wasn’t planned, but he’s not the type to shirk his duties. An unwed mother carries a certain stigma and it’s not really fair when he’s partly responsible for the situation they’re in. So they’d moved in together. Claimed they were engaged to be married, though it was clear neither of them had any intentions of tying the knot. The resentment on both sides is clear. This was never supposed to be a long term, committed relationship. They weren’t particularly compatible. Yet here they are. Friends at the best of times, but those times were coming fewer and farther between. More like roommates that tolerated each other now. Barely tolerated. Conversations strained. Tempers short. He feels like he was suffocating, trapped. He knows she feels the same way.

Nacha wants to resume her career as a chef now that Anastacha is in elementary school, and that means a babysitter will be required to make up the gap between Francis and his girlfriend’s upcoming shifts. He’s not so much a product of his time that he doesn’t believe in women working outside the home; he actually thinks it will be good for her to pursue something she enjoys. So he readily agrees to the idea, wondering whom they’re going to hire.

These are difficult times.

Trust is hard to come by, when you don’t know whether the face you’re staring at is really your neighbor or not. The doppelgänger situation wasn’t just something you heard about on the news in some distant city anymore. It was here. It was real. Just last week someone downstairs had been killed, the previous doorman guarding the entrance a little too lax in his duties.

The demand to inhabit a DDD secured residence was high no matter how derelict in their duties the individual screening at the door was, and Francis had heard through the rumor mill of the crowded building that a father and his daughter were already moving in. He was a college professor. She was an older teenager, eighteen, finishing up highschool. She might be a good option to watch Ana. He’d have to meet her and see. He’s sure Nacha will want to as well.

Today is the day the new residents are moving in, he thinks. Or was it Wednesday they were slated to take up residence? Wait, was today already Wednesday?

Francis rubs the bridge of his nose and massages his tired eyes. He’s almost done his delivery route. Not even his busiest day, the schedule almost half of what it will be tomorrow, and he already can’t wait for it to be over. He’ll stop by to introduce himself on the way home, get a feel for things. At the very least it was the proper thing to do, welcoming someone to the neighborhood. If things didn’t work out, well, they’d just have to keep looking for a babysitter.

***

Francis always takes the elevator when he returns from his shift.

The thought of climbing up three flights of stairs just doesn’t appeal to him most days. Not after so many deliveries. He supposes he should be glad so many people still lacked proper refrigeration and relied on him for fresh dairy products. Job security, they called it. He used to have to solicit customers, years ago. It was an expected part of the job. The invasion had changed all of that, though. Demand more than enough without seeking additional business. It wasn’t even about convenience anymore. People were becoming more and more afraid of leaving their homes.

A heck of a lot riskier than it used to be, visiting so many residences. You never knew who—what—was really on the other side of the door nowadays. Before, he used to complain about having to collect payment from customers that were behind. Now that task seemed paltry in comparison to the daring just delivering goods involved. Even the increased pay doesn’t quite cancel out the threat of the doppelgängers lurking around every corner.

He actually forgets to present his entry request that afternoon after fumbling his ID card out of his wallet, a battered leather billfold that’s seen better days but he can’t be bothered wasting money to replace it. Besides, it takes time to break a new one in. This one is creased and comfortable. It had lasted him this long, it would service him a little longer.

The new doorman frowns suspiciously and he hurriedly reaches for his clipboard, sliding the request free from its position tucked at the very back of his address list. He tries a smile that is not returned, the DDD’s recently hired guard perusing the offered document before squinting at something just to the left of the window. He knows he’s on the day’s expected entry list, so he’s not worried about that. But he did already arouse suspicion, neglecting to present his excuse for his departure from the apartment building. He hears the receiver of the black rotary phone lifting and his heart sinks. The doorman really isn’t buying that he was just a milkman returning home from work. A very human, normal person.

Francis tucks his clipboard back under his arm, his free hand tapping nervously against his work pants. He can hear the dial tone, the lack of a response. Of course no one was home. Still a relief, though. If the doorman had inadvertently already let a doppel in, a stranger wearing his face now taking up his residence, lying in wait, while he himself was condemned to execution by the DDD disposal team…he shudders to think of that scenario.

Without a word his identification card is slid back to him, the request filed away. It seemed silly to have to keep making them out on a daily basis, but that was the procedure. He hears the door buzzer signaling he’s free to enter the building and he sighs in relief again, nodding gratefully before ducking through.

The elevator doors slide open and the tired delivery driver steps inside the carriage and presses the button for the third floor out of habit, leaning slightly against the rear wall of the car. He’s really exhausted today, and the week is only halfway done. Maybe he should have a few customers taken off his route.

Wait. Had he pressed the third floor button? He was supposed to be going to the second, to meet the new neighbors. With a mournful sigh he thumbs the correct button and the doors close, shielding his view of the familiar stretch of navy blue doors on the floor he resides on. Every floor was similarly color coded: pistachio green for first, tangerine orange for third. He doesn’t think there’s any real significance to the chosen palette. Every apartment was furnished identically as well, everything provided with utilitarian pieces. In some respects, he thinks it makes things a lot easier. Nacha didn’t agree. She insists on adding decor and personal touches to make it feel unique, more like their own. He lets her have free reign over that department; he hardly has any decorating expertise. If it was entirely up to him, his sole decision would be to leave it just as it was when he’d moved in. Simple was best.

The elevator doors part on the correct floor this time, and he immediately sees a pile of boxes and luggage outside a door just across from the elevator. So the rumor mill had been correct. Today was the day.

Moving boxes is the last thing the tired delivery driver feels like doing just then, but it’s as good a way as any to break the ice. He raps his knuckles on the edge of the moulding, announcing his arrival. The door opens and he’s greeted by a pleasant looking middle aged man who looks very confused to be greeted by an empty handed milkman.

“I didn’t order anything…”

“Oh! No, I’m sorry. I’m not here for a delivery. I just got home from work and wanted to introduce myself. My name is Francis Mosses. I live upstairs with my girlfriend and daughter.” He offers a hand and the man shakes it. He has a strong, confident grip and an easy smile.

“Pleasure to meet you.”

“Need a hand with this?” He gestures towards the stack beside him.

“That’s very kind of you, but you certainly aren’t obligated to.”

“Not a problem. Moving is a big job. Is your daughter here?” He asks curiously, lifting one of the suitcases and wincing a little at the unexpected weight.

“No, she’s in school. She’s a very dedicated student. It’s fortunate we’re still close enough to where we lived before so she didn’t have to transfer to another so late in the school year. She’ll be home soon. That’s her luggage you've got there,” he adds, looking sympathetic.

“Feels like she packed everything and the kitchen sink,” Francis jokes, and the man cracks another smile. He likes him already. Hopefully the daughter would prove just as affable.

“Just set that in the living room for now. I apologize for the mess,” he says over his shoulder. “My daughter is the one for the knack with organizing things. Must have gotten it from her mother, God rest her soul. Lost her during childbirth. It’s always just been the two of us. I could never quite bring myself to move on,” he adds softly.

The third floor resident offers a sympathetic sound, waving away the man’s concerns before he heaves the heavy suitcase onto the couch. If he knows anything about women, he imagines it’s jam packed with clothing. Nacha’s outfits took up more than half of the closet in the bedroom. It’s a good thing he didn’t have a large wardrobe himself.

Francis returns to the hallway and he and the new neighbor steadily begin demolishing the pile, chatting amicably. He doesn’t envy the man the task of unpacking all of this. He isn’t even sure they’ll be room for this much stuff. The apartments were moderately sized.

“Ah, here she is! This is our neighbor from upstairs, Mr. Francis Mosses.” The introduction accompanies your entrance through the front door, the backpack hooked over one shoulder settled beside the luggage on the couch before turning your attention to the visitor.

You shake the stranger’s hand and survey the state of the interior of the new living space, looking a bit overwhelmed. “Dad, I told you to wait. I was going to help,” you say, and he can hear the good natured, long suffering patience you must have to exhibit living with the widow in your tone.

“I know, I just wanted to get a head start.”

“Just wait before you touch anything else, okay?” It sounds like the roles are reversed, with you being the mature adult and your father looking the part of the bashful child. You smile apologetically at the milkman, making for the boxes lining the kitchen counter first. “I’m sorry we don’t have anything to offer you, we still need to pick up groceries. Just seemed foolish to have even more things to carry. Worried about food spoiling, you know…” Your voice trails off as you tuck a stray strand of hair behind one ear. Well mannered. Pretty. You had a nice smile. Nice everything if Francis was being honest, but he was very firmly trying to deny his initial assessment of your appearance as you’d walked through the door wearing a school uniform, still trying to conceal how much he was admiring the shape of your figure in a plaid skirt that was maybe a touch too short, the way the button front white blouse and navy cardigan hugged your curves so neatly.

Or maybe it wasn’t too short at all. Maybe it was just the right length, he thinks, watching you bend over to pick something up your father had dropped, stubbornly ignoring your advice and diving into the contents of one of the boxes.

Jesus, Francis. Perverted much?

It had been awhile since he’d last been intimate with Nacha. A long time. So far back he can’t even remember. That part of their relationship had just fizzled after the baby, becoming a rare occurrence if they both just happened to be in the mood. More a matter of convenience and availability, certainly nothing romantic or passionate. And now here he was, lusting after a girl he didn’t even know who was barely into adulthood. Someone he’d intended on asking to watch his own child.

“I, um, don’t want to take up too much of your time. I just wanted to say hi. I’ll leave you to it.”

“Thanks for stopping by. And the assistance. Extend our greetings to your girlfriend and daughter.”

“I’ll do that.”

Did you look a little displeased when your father mentioned these two females you lived with? Or had he only imagined that scowl that was there and gone fast as a passing summer rainstorm?

“See you around,” you call after him, and the milkman cannot get on the elevator fast enough, hurriedly pressing the button to return him to the third floor.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

***

Nacha visits the new neighbors before the week ends, inviting them to dinner.

Francis hasn’t said much about his first impressions. His girlfriend certainly seemed to approve. She never invited people over.

Maybe it would be okay. Maybe it had just been a fluke. Just raging hormones and unsatisfied needs making him react that way.

It had been the guiltiest jerk off he’d ever had in his life after meeting you for the first time.

The only saving grace was he was home alone when he’d done it. Thankfully Nacha had been out visiting her parents with Anastacha at the time. A rare moment of peace and quiet that had instantly filled with thoughts of you. Very inappropriate thoughts.

He’d still locked himself in the bathroom, just to be on the safe side. She wouldn’t be home for a couple of hours according to the note, but still, better to be safe than sorry.

Stupid, waiting to clean the pipes this long. No wonder….fuck.

When you had bent over to retrieve whatever kitchen utensil your father had clumsily dropped…That image alone would have been enough, but his mind is already shoving that innocent movement into something much more depraved, with you bent over in front of him instead. His cock had already been flushed and leaking when he’d dragged it free of its enclosure, stroking the sensitive organ and hissing in pleasure. It was so hot. He was on fire. Those sexy lips of yours. Maybe he wants you on your knees in front of him instead, wrapping that mouth over his prick. Choking you on it. It wasn’t bragging, simply stating a fact. He knows he’s larger than average, thicker and longer than many. Girls had always been surprised and appreciative. He’d love to see the look on your face the first time he exposed himself to you. He’d wondered if you had a boyfriend. How far you’ve gone. Still a virgin, maybe? Waiting for marriage like a good girl?

Fuck. He’d been throbbing. There was no way he’d been able to prolong the session. He’d fucked his hand wishing it was yours, any part of you, envisioning bathing you in a load that jets out in reality moments later, thick creamy wads spurting onto the bathroom sink. His free hand grips the counter in a white knuckled grasp and he looks at his appearance in the mirror while his hips still spasm even after he’s removed his hand from his pulsing cock. Flushed. Perspiring. The almost bruised looking smudges beneath each lower eyelid now underlining blown pupils. He should have been ashamed.

It had only made him want you more.

***

“How are you enjoying the apartment so far?”

Nacha had cooked enough food for an army, crowding the table with dish after dish. For all her flaws, Francis couldn’t deny she had true culinary talent. Baking was her passion; that’s how they had met, in fact. Delivering dairy products to the shop she’d worked at. A little flirting on both sides. And then, well…

“Still getting settled, but it’s been good so far. A much safer neighborhood than where we lived previously,” the college professor remarks, responding to the hostess’ query.

“The new doorman seems to be very strict. I feel a lot safer,” she agrees, cutting into the casserole on her plate and mulling over the bite. It was a habit for her. She always took her time eating, judging what ingredients she’d used, deciding what worked and what could be improved upon.

“Can I have some more juice, Mommy?”

“When you’ve finished what you have, yes.”

Ana quickly polishes off the contents of her glass. She’s been staring at their female visitor all throughout dinner, clearly fascinated by the older girl.

“I’ve got it,” you say, offering to refill the child’s glass. She smiles and Ana breaks into a grin that’s in that awkward transitioning stage between baby and adult teeth, a few gaps noted here and there. You were already getting along so well.

Francis had been hoping you wouldn’t. It would make things so much easier. Removing temptation. No need to ever go to the second floor again. Perhaps there would be the occasional paths crossed on the elevator, but that would be it.

He has barely spoken the entire time. He’s very pointedly not looking at you in the pretty floral button front dress you’re wearing, your hair freshly styled, skin natural and clear of makeup, just the way he likes. Nacha always wore such dark lipstick and heavy mascara, attempting to cover her freckles with powder and concealer. He wishes she wouldn’t. He’s mentioned it before, as politely as he can. But she doesn’t agree with his preference. She’s wearing it right now. The modest dress is so old it’s nearly out of style. She’s definitely not trying to impress anyone.

“This is delicious, Nacha,” the male guest remarks after she’d insisted they be on a first name basis.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it. It’s a new recipe. I might still tweak a few things in the future…” Her voice trails off thoughtfully, then she turns her attention to the young woman seated across from her. “So do you have any activities after school? Senior year is so exciting.”

“I’m on the year book committee and I take piano lessons.”

“I wish I could play a musical instrument. Just never seemed to get the hang of my mother’s piano,” Nacha murmurs wistfully. She pauses, then nudges Francis under the table. This was his cue to inquire if she’d be interesting in babysitting.

He clears his throat loudly, suddenly parched and grabbing for a drink, his hasty fingers nearly knocking the glass over. “We were wondering, if you have time, of course. Understandable if you don’t.” Another nudge, this one firm enough to leave a bruise. “If you wouldn’t be interested in babysitting for us. Nacha is going to be going back to work and there’s a slight discrepancy with our schedules…” Suddenly the words that had been so difficult to utter come spilling out like a guilty man confessing his crimes to the authorities. And oh, was he guilty. His eyes finally meet yours directly, shifting from the point he’d fixed on somewhere near your face, the striped wallpaper on the wall behind you substituted for your features. He feels his body responding immediately, a slight tightening in his trousers that makes him shyly glance away again. Damn it. Masturbating the other day hadn’t taken the edge off at all. What was it about you that made you so irresistible?

“I’m interested,” you reply, and he feels his gaze dragged forcefully back to you. No, he shouldn’t have looked. But he can’t help it. He really can’t. Magnet and iron filings. Moth and flame. The attraction is too strong.

He lets his girlfriend iron out the details like the times and days that work for everyone involved after your father readily agrees to the proposal, stating you’ve always been good with your niece who’s a similar age. A real natural at childcare. Dessert follows after you graciously help Nacha clear the table, a homemade chocolate cake and coffee for the adults, milk for Ana and you, per your request.

The milkman feels your eyes on him again. You’re lifting the glass to your lips, that creamy white substance leaving behind a stain on your upper lip that you quickly lick away, your tongue darting out and stroking over the pink arches. Francis nearly chokes on his bite of cake. It has to be deliberate, right? Or was it really completely innocent, and it was his own sick, twisted brain making it seem like the teenager was flirting with him?

It’s a relief when it’s his daughter’s bedtime and Nacha decides to show you her routine, in case you’ll be there late one night if they ever decided to go out or were otherwise occupied. A little more bonding time for you and his daughter. Your father’s already drawn him into a conversation that distracts him, lets him calm down, the bulge in his pants easing. There’s a nervous moment when you’re parting at the door, the scent of you and your close proximity suddenly threatening to reveal his perversion again, but then you’re gone and it’s just he and his girlfriend once more.

He’s surprised when she begins stroking his shoulder after retiring for the evening, a signal that hadn’t been used in ages. Even more surprising when he responds to it. You don’t resemble Nacha in any way, but maybe that’s better. In the dark, it’s easier to pretend the warm body he presses beneath his is actually yours. The chef had gained weight during the pregnancy that had mostly been shed again, some residual softness still clinging to the middle even after all this time. An idea warps this into your own belly stretched for him. Francis keeps his face tucked into the side of his girlfriend’s neck, huffing softly. You’d be tighter than this. Wetter. He knows it. Those eyes. Those lips. He’s moaning, too loud, he knows.

“Francis,” Nacha cautions. “You’ll wake Ana.”

Your lip stained in white at the dinner table. Your tongue. He wants to lick it off you. Lick every inch of you. Dump an entire bottle of chilled milk over your warm body and lap away. Fuck. Too good. The imagery is too vivid. He pulls out just before he climaxes, spilling semen over Nacha’s torso and abdomen, then flops down beside her. He has no idea if she’s still taking birth control. He’s hardly going to risk getting the mother of his child pregnant again.

There’s a sigh from the other woman. She hasn’t orgasmed. She hates cleaning cum off of her body. Francis bets you’d enjoy it. Rub it in. Encourage him to spread even more on you. He wants to make you cum. He wants you.

The mattress creaks as his partner leaves the bed to go wash up in the bathroom. His elevated pulse and respirations are gradually slowing, returning to normal. He shifts his pajama pants back into place, dragging them back over his hips.

It takes Nacha a long time to come back to bed. Maybe she’d finished herself off in the bathroom. Did you ever touch yourself?

It’s the final lewd thought he ponders before he drifts off to sleep.

***

A week passes. Nacha’s returned to work, this time at a restaurant. Not as many opportunities for creating the baked goods that had been her previous passion, but still a step in the right direction before a better opportunity presents itself.

Francis arrives home a little past four that afternoon, finding you on the floor in the living room with Anastacha. You were helping her color a picture of a rainbow, your shading much neater while the elementary student’s scribbles tended to veer outside the lines. You're both lying on your stomachs, your knees bent, ankles crossed in the air, swaying up and down a bit. A position he’d seen Ana adopt countless times. You, though…

“Daddy!” His daughter scrambles to her feet, running over to give him an enthusiastic hug.

Your eyes lift to meet his as he tousles her hair playfully. “Hi, Mr. Mosses. How was work?”

“Fine. It’s Francis,” he reminds you, although he’s not certain it’s such a good idea to encourage that informal address.

“When is mommy coming home?” The first grader tips her head back, regarding her father.

“Late. Remember I told you? You’ll be in bed before she gets home. It’s just you and me, kiddo.”

“Will she come kiss me goodnight?”

“Yes, baby.”

“Can she stay? She’s helping me color.” She points to you and the crayon scrawled picture.

“I see that. It’s very nice. But she can’t stay. She has homework to do, I’m sure. She’ll be back tomorrow.”

The pout on the young child’s face softens. She’s got his eyes, there’s no denying it, but every other feature inherited is her mother’s. The button nose ceases scrunching up and she shrugs her thin shoulders in acceptance.

“Can I have a snack?”

“Not now. It’s almost dinner time,” he says gently.

Unlike Nacha, Francis hated cooking. Thankfully she’d prepared for this, leaving leftovers in the fridge to reheat for supper tonight.

The milkman watches you gather the crayons back into the box, handing the picture to Ana after you push yourself to your feet. “We’ll finish this tomorrow, okay?”

His daughter nods. You slide back into your cardigan, blocking the view he’d just had of your brassiere very visible beneath the thin material of your school blouse. Was that lace he had caught a glimpse of?

“Would you mind walking me downstairs? I’m still a little nervous being on my own.”

It seems like the most innocent of excuses, but Francis is more convinced than ever it’s anything but. He hesitates, eyeing his daughter. The entire point of hiring a sitter was so she wouldn’t be left alone. Now he was going to be doing that very thing.

“Isn’t your dad home?”

“No. He’s teaching a night course.”

The milkman’s heart sinks. Alone. You were going home to an empty apartment. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Ana, daddy’s going to walk your babysitter home, okay? I’ll just be downstairs. You know to keep the door locked until I get back. And the secret knock so you know it’s me.” It was the most innocent way to teach the child about safety. An absolute necessity with the added threat of the doppels around.

“Ok, daddy.” She’s already found her next task to occupy herself, plopped now in front of the television. Too close to the screen, as usual.

He reminds her to sit further back, then turns to you. “Ready?”

You nod and he escorts you to the door. The brief ride on the elevator is silent. It’s the middle of February, and the heat in the building isn’t that good, but he’s already perspiring. His fingers twitch nervously. You’re standing so close beside him your sleeve brushes his.

The carriage halts and the doors slide open. You’re already digging in your backpack for the key. He knows he should turn and flee, right now. Get back to Anastacha. Make dinner. Forget all about you.

Instead he hovers just behind. You push open the door, immediately toeing your shoes off, little polished dress ones with thin black laces. “You want to come in for a minute? Have a drink?”

Oh, he does. He definitely does.

Francis steps inside and closes the door behind him, securing the deadbolt. It locks with a severe cracking sound of metal being driven forcefully together. You move to the fridge, bending slightly as you survey the options, listing each one to him.

It’s over. Doomed. The most cliché thing ever. The babysitter. Really? Fourteen years his junior. Only eighteen. Still in highschool. Fuck.

“Water’s fine.” His mouth is dry, his throat parched. He actually needs the moisture. He’s already pitched a tent, immediately obvious. Impossible to ignore. Your eyes have already spotted it after you straighten, shutting the appliance door. A faint flush in your cheeks. He recognizes the way your pupils have dilated, that signal of desire making the dark centers pool and spread until there is just the thinnest bit of iris encircling each. Your chest rises rapidly, you lips parting slightly, seeking an alternative source of air. “Tell me to leave,” he says, and it’s a plea, something dredged against his will from the depths of his soul that he barely manages to utter.

“No,” you say softly.

He steps closer, crowding you against the sink. His hand reaches out, settling on the side of your neck, shrouded beneath the fragrant curtain of your hair.

“Tell me to stop.”

His chest actually hurts, his heart is pounding so fiercely.

“No,” you deny him again.

His mouth brushes yours. Velvet. Your lips are absolutely plush, pliable. Peach skin. Sweeter than, when his tongue dips inside those parted wedges to taste the ambrosia nectar within.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he pants, and it’s his most desperate urge yet; his last resolve, his last shred of decency hanging by a thread.

“Francis,” you gasp, one hand sliding down to when he needs you most. A place you shouldn’t touch. But oh, how he needs it. His body is already responding, hips grinding against that delicate hand, pushing you further into the sharp edge of the counter. He can smell the last vestiges of the lemon dish soap in the sink behind you, a brief waft of clean citrus before his mouth crushes yours, drinking you in more deeply.

I tried to resist. I didn’t force you. You want this, too.

He’s kissed a few girls in his day. Your own experience level maybe not on par. There’s a certain awkwardness. Maybe from nervousness. But you’re a fast learner. The clumsier collisions of lips and tongue now meeting more smoothly as you map his own. He doesn’t even mind the accidental knocking of teeth, the inadvertent nip of his tongue. It just heightens the experience. Everything about you is the epitome of erotic. You’re gorgeous, sexy, perfect.

He’s got a handful of one breast curving against his palm now, that soft globe palpable beneath the layers of cotton shirt and the lace bra he’d spied earlier. Certainly nothing your father had picked out for you to wear. When had you purchased the lingerie? Did it make you feel wicked? Had you blushed in front of the shopkeeper? Did you choose it just for him?

The milkman is still grinding against your body. He could cum just like this, easily. Even without your hand there, sliding and squeezing. These motions unpracticed, just like the kissing. Maybe you were a virgin after all. His own prize to defile.

He should really guide you somewhere more comfortable. Couch, bed, anything. But that would mean moving apart from you, and he doesn’t want that. He can’t bear to separate from you at this point. The hem of your plaid skirt is gathered roughly in one fist and then he slides immediately to the center, finding your panties are made of the same material as your brassiere, a matching set. They have the stiff, scratchy feel of something new. You’ve definitely just gotten these.

You’re soaked.

His previous imaginings had indeed been correct. An absurd amount of arousal fluid leaks from the entrance his probing fingers skim across after dipping beneath the waistband. You’re making the most amazing sounds. He wishes he could record them, play them on repeat when you’re not around. He collects your slick on the pads of his digits and brings them back through your pert lips to your clit. You moan, low and gutteral, into his mouth. A filthy sound. Like animals, that’s what you’re behaving like. Frenzied and desperate to fuck. Your progress on opening his fly has been interrupted, your brain clearly short circuiting at his intimate touch, the pleasure proving too much of a distraction for you.

The older man’s saturated fingers glide over your pearl, drawing neat circles, as tidy as the coloring you’d done earlier. Refined movements. He swaps out for his thumb and sends his middle finger back through the dewy folds to tease your opening again. Pressing gently. Sealed tight. You haven’t even experimented here, have you? Not even so much as a tampon has ever breached this entrance. You whimper against his ear, your tongue darting out to taste the skin. Salted, no doubt. He was sweating like a man after a marathon. Nervousness. Excitement. Arousal.

“Francis,” you groan again, and the sound of it shoots straight through to his groin. You’ve finally got his pants open, dragging his cock out of his briefs. He’s watching your face as you do it. Sees your eyes widen. It’s going to be so difficult to stretch that virgin pussy over his prick. But he’ll manage it. He’ll manage.

Not today, though. There isn’t time. He hasn’t completely forgotten his other duties, the daughter waiting upstairs. Another time he’ll bury his face between your thighs before he introduces your womb properly to his dick. For now, he has to be content with shoving your panties down and rubbing his erection over your vulva, the fat mushroom head massaging your clit before parting the pink flesh of your sex and teasing your entrance, then back again, fucking against the slickness on the outside of your body. The angle and the height difference makes it difficult and he pauses only long enough to lift you and sit you on the edge of the counter, your ass dipping dangerously close into the stainless steel basin behind you, one arm keeping you balanced while his free hand continues manipulating his cock against your drenched cunt.

The kisses are as sloppy as your nether region now, whatever adroitness you’d acquired previously now forgotten in the wake of your desire. You’re keening and shaking.

“That’s it, baby girl. Cum for me,” the milkman croons encouragingly.

The hand curled around his neck tightens, gathering the ends of his hair and pulling them taut as you explode, the softer noises he’d elicited earlier now howls and whines. Your head flings back and he feels his cock finally surrender, shooting the load of cum that’s been building up, painting your abdomen and your pussy and your thighs, long spurts that recklessly splatter and slide down your soft skin.

He’s actually done it. He’d fucked around with the babysitter after your first day on the job.

Francis helps you ease back off the counter. You reach for the sponge resting on the back of the sink near the faucet, then think better of it, opting for paper towels instead, dampening them slightly before wiping away the traces of his indiscretion. He refastens his pants, taking a few paper towels for himself to wipe the sweat off his face and neck. Still panting slightly, still recovering. Coming down off the high of being intimate with you.

There’s guilt now, of course. Even though he technically hadn’t violated you. It wasn’t right, what he’d done to you.

But you’d wanted it, hadn’t you? He’d given you the opportunity to refuse him and you’d pulled him closer.

You’re the adult. You know better. Teenage hormones. You should have walked away.

Guilty, yes, but not nearly enough. And he can’t say he regrets it. Can’t fail to admit he’s already thinking about next time. There would surely be a next time.

He washes his hands. He can’t go home smelling like pussy, as much as he’d love to savor the taste and scent of you longer. He should have sneaked a sample before he’d cleansed them. Now they were just soapy and citrusy.

You walk him to the door.

“I have to get back,” he says, as if you’re unaware of the situation. Apologizing for the rushed nature of it all, maybe.

“I know.” Your voice is still soft.

He seats his hand on your cheek. Steals another kiss. It’s meant to be a brief parting one, but you’re already curling a fist into his work shirt, pulling him more tightly against your body. Unbelievably, his cock is twitching again.

“Baby girl, fuck, I have to go,” he reiterates, for himself as much as for your benefit. “I’ll see you soon.”

“My dad’s going to be home tomorrow,” you caution.

“Nacha’s only doing a half shift tomorrow. She’ll be home by five. It’s my long delivery day,” he murmurs regretfully. “I probably won’t get home until six or seven. The day after that is my lighter schedule. I’ll be done by three.”

You frown thoughtfully, then your features brighten. “Pick me up after school the day after, then? I’m staying late for yearbook anyway.”

Yearbook. Yes. Because you’re a senior. In highschool. Honestly, Francis.

“That’s a date, then. I mean, it’s not really a date,” he adds hastily.

“I know.” You stretch to kiss his mouth, this one more chaste, like he’d intended on doing previously. “I’ll see you then. I’ll wait out front by the main entrance.”

“I’ll be the guy in the delivery truck with the cow on the side.”

“Got it. Except…how do I know you’re not, you know, a doppel coming to kidnap me? Didn’t you mention a secret knock earlier?”

”Yes. It goes like this.” He creates a rhythm of staccato taps on the doorframe. “And you answer with this.” A different series this time. “Try it.”

You have the sequence nailed by the second attempt. You smile and something stirs in him. Just a little something. The faintest hum of feeling. The genesis of a tiny affection. Then the milkman finds himself back on the elevator. Suddenly anxious, fumbling the keys in the lock of his apartment door after using the secret knock. He’s relieved to find Ana safe and sound, greeting him less enthusiastically this time, immediately returning to whatever television program she’d been engrossed in.

Nacha’s taped directions to the filled glass baking dish in the fridge. Temperature, time. He turns the dials on the oven.

“You were gone a long time.”

Francis nearly jumps, surprised to find his daughter beside his elbow.

“No, not really, honey. Just had a snack while I was there,” he says, hoping the casual statement will placate her.

“How come you can eat before dinner and I can’t?”

“Because you’re a little girl and you don’t have the same appetite I do. Want to help set the table? First person to finish gets to eat dessert first,” he adds with a smirk.

The little girl scrambles into action, yanking open the drawer that houses the cutlery and he sighs with relief. He’d gotten away with it, for now.

But what would happen in the future?

#francis mosses x you #francis mosses x reader #thats not my neighbor #francis mosses #milkman #milkman x reader #milkman x you #the milkman #that’s not my neighbor #tnmn fanfic #tnmn francis mosses #tnmn milkman #tnmn #tnmn smut #francis mosses smut #divider @cafekitsune

[paymechildsupport]

I've never done a request before so please bear with me🥲

I was wondering if you could do another Francis Mosses x reader.

I really enjoyed your Spouse!Reader x doppelgänger!Francis and wanted to see your take on D.D.D. trainee!Reader x doppelganger! Francis, where we get sent out to 'take care' of Francis.

Really excited to see what you do with this prompt🙏🏾

>nahhh this is a devious prompt, -- I gotchu 🙏😈🙏😈

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

“Does this please you, Officer?”  // Doppel!Francis x DDD Officer Reader

--Doppelgänger!Francis x DDD Reader tasked with his neutralization 🙏

-!! AFAB Reader, -- though genetalia isn't outright explicity stated -(?) -- there is room for your imagination though 😋

-!! CW: nsfw- (smut), ; Dubcon /// Hand-job; sex against a wall; degradation; implied overstimulation

A/N: the number of Francis requests are CRAZY, -- and I completely understand why, -- man's actually majestic <3.

————-

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

...

This was not how you planned to spend your Tuesday night,— grumpy and exhausted, woken up mid-sleep by an emergency dispatch.

“Mm… hello.?” Your groggy voice speaks into the ringing phone, eyes still sticky from sleep. 

“Emergency Dispatch: Doppelgänger identified at Complex II,— repeat, doppelgänger identified at complex II,— dispatch agent, neutralize the threat”. They clicked off, leaving you alone in the dark. 

Fuuuuuuck…. 

You fit yourself to your uniform quickly, practically ripping the hazmat suit in an attempt to get inside. Stupid cheap uniform. 

Hurriedly, you grabbed your gear before rushing out the door, immediately stopping to softly tiptoe down the hall, (it would be inconsiderate to wake your neighbors at this hour).

You bolt out the complex, trying your best with the minimal light from the lampposts to groggily stumble your way to Complex II. You recall briefly the mention of a new doorman, a rookie. You figured it made sense,— poor new guy’s first day and he’s greeted by what you can assume as a particularly aggressive doppelgänger. 

Trudging up to the looming building, you approach the iron bound mechanical door. You can see immediately the shutters to the doorman’s office are closed, bits of movement visible from the gaps in the blinds. The poor dude was in shambles. 

You approach the gate, eyes locking on the figure of the doppelgänger, 

Hmm, let’s see who it is tonight…

You’re surprised to see the handsome face of your milkman staring back at you, eyes looking as dead as ever. The air was knocked right outta your lungs,— holy shit these doppelgängers were getting good. 

Clearing your throat, you address, 

“Uh,— right, sir,” you look at the doppelgänger, “I’m gonna need you to come with me.” 

He says nothing, opting to just stare. It’s then you notice the gaping hole that was his mouth, the two black chasms that were supposed to be his eyes. From afar, he’d look perfectly normal,— but in the light all the inhuman imperfections stuck out like a sore thumb 

Holy smokes that’s hot. 

“I’m going to take you with me now,” you don’t even know why you’re telling him this, why the hell were you being all nice with a doppelgänger? Sure, he was good looking,— sure, you were curious what that mouth could do—- 

But that’s besides the point. 

You approach hesitantly, hooking an arm around ‘Francis’, giving him a light tug to signify him to follow you. 

Surprisingly, he does. Without a single word or complaint. He just… stares. With those beady white pupils. It sends a delicious shiver down your spine. 

Leading him away, you look over your shoulder at the doorman who just peeked out from behind the shutters, giving him a reassuring thumbs up as you walk away with your new companion. 

“Threat neutralized,” you repeat into the bulky walky talky attached to your belt, “order complete, over”. You place it back in its compartment, continuing until you and ‘Francis’ reach the anomaly compound for all things strange and odd. 

‘Francis’ looks at the compound with horribly disguised disgust. You only chuckle grinning, 

“No no, don’t worry. You aren’t going in there…” he seems to breathe a sigh of relief— if that’s even possible—, before you finish the last bit, 

“— don’t worry, I have… other plans for you..”

——

“Strip.” 

“Excuse me?” He whirls around, taken aback. 

“You heard me, strip” 

“And why,” his eyes narrow, “would I do that?” 

You shrug, “safety protocol,-- we’re in the decontamination room,-- can’t let you in if your clothes are contaminated, y’know?” 

'Francis' is absolutely flabbergasted. 

“Oh, and for security measures someone else has to be in the room at all times, – but uh,-” you grin, “we’re a lil’ short staffed at the moment, so it looks like it’ll just have to be you and me. 

'Francis' only looks at you through narrowed eye lids, thinking, “and if I refuse?” 

“Then I’ll strip you myself” and you step closer to do just that. 

'Francis' skitters backwards to the other end of the room, back hitting the wall, “h-hey! No need for that, I’ll do as you ask…” he mutters

Chuckling, “at least you can be obedient” 

'Francis' looks away almost bashfully as he begins to undo the buttons on his shirt, fabric peeling away to reveal the pale skin underneath. His hat rests on a nearby bench

“Fully,” you purr, “I want it all off.” 

You swear you see the tiniest hint of red tinge his cheeks, and you can’t help but wonder just how advanced this doppelgänger was. Good thing you were about to see for yourself in a moment… 

The air is heavy, tense, almost, as 'Francis' slowly undoes the buckle on his belt, pants sliding down to his ankles, – his boxers the only scrap of clothing left hiding him from you. 

He wearily regards the way you look at him, not missing the growing flare of hunger behind your eyes, 

“Does this please you, officer?” his words are clipped, tension building up behind each one. Biting your lip, your breath almost catches at the way he smiles, teeth a little too sharp to be human. 

“No.” The words are thick in your throat, forcing them out a bit of a struggle, “Get rid of the rest of it, now” 

He bites his tongue, making no move to do so. In a second you’re on him, pinning his figure to the wall, bodies pressed up together. He has no time to react as you hook two fingers around his boxers, harshly yanking them off. 

“Oh.”

Free of the confines of his pants, his erect cock springs loose, tip already dripping with precum. 

“Huh.” 'Francis' can’t even turn his head your way, face hot and sweating slightly, “Who would’ve thought,” – your hands curl around him, taking him fully in your fist. His eyes fly to your face, pupils blown and dilated, staring in horrified arousal as you began to knead the hardened flesh, “--what a sick little thing you are, getting off on my reprimands, hmm?” 

'Francis' sucks in a sharp breath, muscles tensing almost to a breaking point. His entire body shook with an animalistic need. More strands of precum build up on his tip, all read and agitated. Your thumb rubs the tiny slit, coating him with the sticky fluid. You found it hilarious, – no way this freakish creature had a fucking thing for degradation. 

His mouth opens in the shape of a small ‘o’, eyes rolling back as you teasingly pull at his dick, your hands making wet squelching noises playing with the soaked meat. 

“Mm,” you hum as you continue to play with him, dumbifying the creature in your hands. His legs start shaking like a dog’s, lewd whimpers flowing from his lips, glistening with saliva and drool. He desperately thrusts himself against your hand, chasing his pleasure farther. Jerking him off slowly, immense satisfaction burning in your stomach at the way your hand milks him. Each low groan went straight to your pulsing heat, drenching your own pants. 

Panting, unfamiliar with the immense, foreign pleasure curdling through his gut, 'Francis' seems to forget the guise of his human appearance, pornograpic moans mixing in with groggy animalistic growls and grunts. Carnal desire ripples through his veins, building up in his stomach, molten hot, and threatening to explode from his twitching cock in your hands. Poor thing can’t even formulate words, getting his brains fucked out just by your hand alone. 

He gasps, right about to climax into your hammering fist when you suddenly retract your hand. 'Francis' looks at you with wide eyes, looking every bit the kicked puppy, cruelly robbed of his orgasm. 

“Hh. huh… nghu..- ga-?..”,  panting.

You chuckle slowly, “no, not yet…” 

He can only watch with teary eyes as you skillfully unbuckle your pants, sliding them off along with your underwear. You grab him by the hips, positioning him (which isn’t hard, considering the only thing keeping his shaking body up was your torso), and aligning your pelvis, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. You carefully slip him into your drenched hole, gasping softly at the sensation of him.

“Hah… like I said….” ‘Francis’ can only gape as you adjust yourself, cock twitching madly inside of you, 

… “I’m not done with you yet…”

#submission #francis mosses x you #francis mosses thats not my neighbor #thats not my neighbor #tnmn #francis mosses #milkman #milkman x reader #tnmn milkman #the milkman #milkman smut #francis mosses x reader #francis mosses smut #tnmn smut #x afab reader #i love milk #i am the milkman my milk is delicious #smash #tnmn fanfic #fanfic #smut

[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)

#𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐞𝐬𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬🗒📃🕯️🧾 #the things he could to me 🤭🤭 #yall already know a fic will be out in a few days😋😋 #tnmn francis mosses #francis tnmn #tnmn #tnmn fanart #tnmn milkman #francis mosses #francis mosses x black reader #francis mosses thats not my neighbor #francis mosses smut #francis mosses x you #francis mosses x reader #doppelganger francis mosses #thats not my neighbour milkman #thats not my neighbor #tnmn fanfic #hoon man

[mewintheflesh-2]

Without You

Rating: Teen and Up audiences

Archive warnings: None

Characters: Francis Mosses, Original Characters

Tags: Unrequited Love, heartbreak, Song: Without You (Strawberry Guy), Crushes, Unrequited Crushes, Francis Mosses has sensory issues (briefly mentioned), minor blood and injury, Francis deals with the qualms of being a retail worker (kinda), men crying, emotional hurt, hurt/no comfort, not beta read, Reader is gender neutral.

Word count: 1,800 (rounded down)

Summary: Francis wasnt having a good time.

And you're not about to make it any better

Also posted on Ao3

Francis sighed solomly as he gripped the now empty milk carrier. Hard enough to leave imprints on his hand and whiten his knuckles.

His black leather shoes clicked and clacked against the cold, concrete sidewalk. The sunset painting everything around him in a golden light. It'd be nighttime soon.

He lifted his free hand to his head and clutched his sweaty hair from underneath his hat. He was so tired. He just wanted to get home and sleep.

But he mostly just wanted to talk to you.

Even if you only really talked through that thick, protective window, youd been making more and more conversation with eachother each time you spoke, getting to know eachother more and more each day.

It wasnt long before Francis' lovesick brain fell head over heels.

It was everything about you. The way you looked, with a smile rivaling the warmth of the sun, and just as dangerous to his heart and mind. You always seemed to know exactly what to say to him to pull at his heart like a puppet on a string.

If he didnt know any better, hed say you were doing it on purpose.

He wouldnt mind either way.

Francis slugged up to the reception window, a weight lifted off of him at the sight of you at your desk.

He pushed his ID and Entry Request inside the letterbox for you to receive, planting his hands on the metal shelf jutting out of the wall just below the window; watching you expectantly with a simultaneous aching and soothing feeling in his heart.

After a minute of shuffling papers and opening folders, you look up at him.

"Hello, Francie." You smiled warmly at him.

There it was.

That nickname.

God how it made his heart swell. 

'Francie.'

Such a cute nickname

and it was just for him, gifted from you.

"How's your day been?" You tilted your head slightly at him, setting down and organizing his identification and sliding his profile back into the appropriate folder.

Francis looked at you for a second before frowning. "Not great." He sighed as he shook his head softly, looking down at his shoes.

Your eyebrows knit together in concern, a frown adorning your lips.

"I'm sorry, Francie. What happened, if you dont mind me asking?" Your voice was so warm and soft as you leaned in closer to the window.

It made Francis' heart flutter for a second before he had to think back to all that had happened earlier.

"It's just a lot of little things building up. I'm probably more upset about it than I should be." Francis looked down at his hands, and then up to you.

The expression on his face was just killing your heart. 

"Im all ears." You speak softly as you push your chair in closer to your desk, and by extension, the window.

"If theres anything you need to say, then say it. Its always nice to get things off your chest, dont you think?" You smile softly at him, pushing your chair closer to your desk, and closer to the window by extension.

"Are you sure?" Francis looked around, almost worried. Surely he'd be taking up your time on your job if he did that, right?

"I have all the time in the world-- and I'd rather be talking to you than anything else right now." You assured, that deadly warm smile on your lips again.

The words made Francis feel warm and soft.

A small smile appeared on his face for a brief, fleeting moment. 

 Francis stared at you for a moment, as if asking for approval to speak.

You nod.

He sighed, looking down at the metal shelf infront of him as his ungloves hands tapped at it, wondering where to begin.

"Its just- work has been just awful today.  Someone had left their dog outside, as soon as it saw me it wouldn't stop chasing me, i tried to run away, but it eventually caught up to me and bit my leg.

It wouldnt let go until I had to pry it off of me. And even then it didn't leave me alone for awhile. Not until it's owners came back to take it off of me." 

You frowned, trying to open your mouth to speak, but Francis kept talking.

"And because of that dog, i dropped and broke multiple milk bottles on the sidewalk. So after the dog got taken off of me, i tried picking up the glass since I didn't want anybody accidentally stepping on it because of me, but the shards cut me. Badly. Even through my gloves."

He held his hand up to the window for you to see. There were bloodied bandages wrapped around his hand, and several smaller cuts on his bare fingers. 

You cringe at the sight.

"I had to take them off to clean the wounds, and everything has just been sensory hell ever since." Francis' face draws to a grimace.

"And to make things worse, I had to deal with people yelling at me for being incompetent for losing their deliveries."

He clenched his jaw, his expression doesn't look anything but sad.

"Even though it wasn't even my fault. I'm not the one who left their dog outside. And just to top it off, I've had a horrible migrane all day, and It's just-" He inhales and groans,  collapsing onto the metal shelf infront of him.

"I just want to take a break. I just want to rest."

He mumbles as he tucks his face into his folded arms.

Silence, for a moment.

"Francie........... That's awful-- I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?" You frown sympathetically as you push you chair forward even more, squishing yourself against your desk and placing a hand on the window infront of you.

Francis lifted his head to look up at your hand, and then at you.

"I think talking to you and going to sleep is  enough for me to feel better." Francis smiled briefly before registering what he'd said, casting his gaze anywhere but you after he realized what he'd spoken.

You laugh softly. "If you say so."

Silence for a bit, as Francis regains his composure.

He lifts himself up, slowly propping himself on his elbows on the shelf, leaning his head on his knuckles, huffing out a breath of air.

"...How was your day?" He asks after a beat, head tilted curiously.

You smile, retracting your hand from the window. "My days been pretty slow, but im meeting someone later, so im pretty excited for that."

Meeting someone?

...

Francis blinked for a second. His expression faltering to a look of sadness for just a moment.

No. Surely you didnt mean it like that.

"Meeting someone...?" He echoed.

"Mhm." You smiled softly at the thought. "We met just a few days ago. He seems pretty nice, I'm excited to get to know him more." You lean your head on your hand, mirroring the man behind the glass.

"A-ah.......... Congratulations." Francis did his best to refrain from letting any indication of his emotions fall upon his face as he straightened himself out; but he couldn't help but frown. 

"Francie? Are you alright?" You tilted your head the slightest bit, voice a catalyst of concern for the man standing on the other side of the thick, protective glass. 

"Mhm. I just remembered something. Apologies." He held the brim of his cap between his pointer and thumb, pulling it down over his eyes the slightest bit to avoid looking at you. But he really couldn't help himself.

"Oh, alright. Is there, uh, anything I can help you with?" Your voice was calm and careful in a way that just broke poor Francies heart even more. "About what you remembered- I mean." 

"No, no. It's fine. Thanks for the offer." He shook his head softly, forcing a small smile as he looked down at the shelf infront of him.

"Of course, Francie." Your eyebrows knit together in concern. "Just let me know if there's anything I can do for you. You can tell me anything." 

"Mhm. Thank you." Francis took a quick glance at the door, before looking back in your direction-- though nowhere near directly at you. You put together he was probably signaling to you that he wanted to leave now.

"I'll see you tommorow?" Your voice was soft, sweet, a delicacy and a curse to Francis' ears.

There was a light buzzing noise as you pressed the button to unlock the main entrance. 

"Mhm. Goodbye." He waved at you softly, only actually looking into your eyes for a brief, fleeting moment before walking away. 

"Goodbye........." You spoke quietly, a soft pit in your stomach as you watched Francis dissappear through the doors.

You were so caught off guard by his sudden change in behavior you nearly forgot to lock the door again.

He usually liked to stay for as long as he could.

Was it something you said?

You frowned, leaning back in your chair and fidgeting with some papers.

You'd have to ask him about it tomorrow.

Again began the waiting for your neighbors to return to their apartments.

Francis opened his apartment door with shaking hands, keys jingling as they were set on his kitchen counter.

With a heavy sigh, he flicked on his lamp, enveloping the room in a warm yellow glow, trying to keep his composure.

Slowly but surely he kicked off his shoes, grabbing and throwing his hat onto his dresser.

Just as he was about to unbutton his uniform he was hit with a sudden disgusting, sickening feeling in his chest as tears welled up in his eyes.

He shook his head, eyes squinting involuntary as he let himself fall onto his bed.

He lied there, staring at the ceiling, trying to ignore anything he was feeling.

But no matter how many times he tried, something still peeked through.

He inhaled sharply through his nose as he flipped himself over onto his stomach, nestling his face into his soft pillows.

The feeling in his chest was too intense to bear, he could feel his breath become sporadic, unsure if it was because his face was buried in his pillows or otherwise.

He inhaled sharply once more, this time followed followed by a small Hic as his throat began to close up.

No, no, he wasn't going to cry. It's not that big of a deal. He's fine. He should be happy for you if anything.

But. With everything that happened up until that point. He really couldn't help himself from letting his emotions get the best of him.

Hot tears soaked into his pillow as his hands clutched at his hair violently, hissing in pain as his wounds flexed open.

He grits his teeth, another hic escaping his lips as he opened his eyes into the pillow.

Nothing but a warm, yellowish void.

 He pushed himself up and flipped onto his side, curling into himself, yanking a blanket over his shoulders before clutching his head, throbbing in a burning pain once again as he cried quietly.

He didn't even turn off the lamp before he'd passed out.

Silent, steady breathing, wet cheeks illuminated by the soft yellow light of his lamp. 

Tired eyes, finally getting their well deserved rest. 

An aching heart, beating slowly, deep inside his chest.

#Francis Mosses #Tnmn #Tnmn milkman #francis mosses x reader #francis mosses x you #francis mosses tnmn #That's not my neighbor #Milkman #thats not my neighbour milkman #thats not my neighbor #Tnmn fanfic

[hauntedtotem]

Doppelgangers mimic, it's in their blood, their instincts. They observe and copy, they peak into the lives of the unsuspecting and devour what they can, in every sense of the word.

It's necessary for their survival, to learn every detail of ones features. The better evolved members of their kind learn to perfectly imitate speech patterns and body language as well, leaving nothing out. Perfection is key, and a deep intricate understanding of their prey is what they strive for.

They pride themselves on their ability to reflect humanities ego back at them.

Some understand too well, and look deeper than what's necessary. Their human-counterparts oft hold secrets buried within, secrets they show no one, and yet the doppelgangers that select them seem to enjoy shouting such things out into the world for all to see.

Showing off what they've found, what was previously being hidden away from public eye.

A pilot who's mind races with endless possibilities and visions of death, who's witnessed carnage both of reality and illusion. Behind a stone faced facade and obscuring shades, paranoia clutches the mind and eyes dart nervously towards every shadow. The constant nagging of adrenaline and panic being held trapped behind an un-moving mask. An all consuming mind, seeing danger at every corner, only ever knowing peace while in the emptiness of the skies.

A woman who wills herself to be blind to her harsh reality. Portraying herself with an energetic and bubbly attitude, while miserable inside, refusing to speak of her past. Silencing herself for the sake of her and her daughter. Pretending she doesn't see that her daughter looks nothing like her ex husband, pretending she doesn't see the resemblance to her neighborhood milkman. Staying quiet, eyes and lips sealed shut. Keeping her secret away from even herself.

An uncaring, boring man to the public eye, who secretly relishes in the silent chaos he's caused for numerous marriages. Going about his day, hiding his sadistic smile behind a mundane lifestyle and tired eyes. Knowing the effect he has on unsuspecting and lonely housewives, it does wonders for his ego. He keeps it inside, not showing his twisted delight for home-wrecking.

It goes on, many doppelgangers seeing people's true colors and proudly putting them on display.

A miserable seamstress, a model with an fake smile and endless hunger for fame, a reporter melting under the pressure of his journalism- having to do stories on these monsters day in and day out, exposed to endless horrors.

Many may look at these mimics, call them lazy, say they don't understand what a real human looks like. But they know better than anyone what's in your heart, their depiction more accurate than those only portraying what's on the surface level.

A button is pressed, the curtains fall, and their performance is done as a siren mocks the sound of applause.

#Tnmn #thats not my neighbor #Francis mosses #nacha mikaelys #that's not my neighbor #steven rudboys #Ficlet #Tnmn fanfic #Headcanons #Nacha is divorced but not to francis- he's just a homewrecker #Also Steven has undiagnosed schizophrenia that he can't tell anyone about because he'll be discharged from the military #This started as a shit post and was going to end with peaches guy but I ended up liking it too much

[taiyeoki]

Man I kinda wanna move all the JJK aside first and make a Francis Mosses, the milkman from That's Not My Neighbor, series 🧍🏻‍♂️

Depressed sleep deprived men fr 🤞🏻

#francis mosses #tnmn francis mosses #milkman #tnmn milkman #tnmn #milkman x reader #thats not my neighbor #that's not my neighbor #francis mosses x reader #francis mosses x you #tnmn fanfic #that's not my neighbor x reader

[pandalexoxo]

OKAY BEAR WITH ME Y’ALL. I HAVEN’T PLAYED THE GAME SO I’M JUST GOING OFF OF SOME TIRED OLD MAN TROPES.

FRANCIS MOSES x READER

also, i haven’t written down any of my rules, but i don’t have any limits! i’ll write whatever requests people send me! whatever your dark mind can think of will be my pleasure to create!

i don’t mind if you’re not 18+, since, if i ever do make smut i’ll just label it as 18+ and TRUST that 18+ ONLY will read. you all have probably seen, but i’ve just written about my thoughts of different fandoms so far so there’s no 18+ posts YET. (maybe i’ll make this account SFW and do another for NSFW? idk, i normally post on other platforms but randomly decided to give tumblr a try lol)

as a NM/trans man myself, i TRY to keep my readers gender neutral by not really describing the characters features. hard on TRY bc i know the last blurb fic i made of dead plate was Rody x Male Reader lol, oopsies! anywhooo, enjoy~!

WARNINGS! doppleganger mention, possible unconsciousness, possible death, possible unfunny dialogue (bc sometimes i’m the only one who finds me hilarious lmfao), you’re kinda a baddie ngl, you and Francis are besties, Francis is a cat lover?! Francis is a tired old man who hates technology. phone mentioned despite the first wireless phone being made 23 years after the story takes place (use your imagination) uhhh, anything else i forget? comment below!

Francis let out a long sigh of relief, taking his cap off with one hand, using the other to dab away at his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief. Upon seeing the exhausted man, you can’t help but smile softly, shaking your head as you get ready to scold him, once again. You cross your arms, looking at him through the window with a playful disappointed glare.

“mhm mhm, what do we have here? you really should be getting more sleep, mr. milkman, your eyes are starting to sport their own eye bags.”

with this comment, Francis shakes his head but is unable to stop the small, yet tired smile on his face. he bends down to place the crate of milk jugs onto the floor before handing over his ID card. you hum, narrowing your eyes when Francis doesn’t give into your whims. you eye his card, glancing at it a few times before slipping it back to him with a chuckle.

Francis’s eyebrow raises in confusion at your reaction but ends up shaking his head, rolling his eyes playfully and sighing softly. he places his cap back on his head and huffs, deeming your reaction as a go ahead inside.

“now… what if i was a doppelganger? you aren’t even going to call my room to check if someone is there? such a reliable doorman we have.”

despite Francis’s playful tone, your grin slips into a frown as you study Francis from behind the glass. this causes him to tense up, suddenly feeling nervous, like he did something wrong. you hum, tilting your head into your palm as you seemingly analyze Francis for a little while before deciding to speak.

“what’s up brother?”

Francis blinks a few times in surprise, his head tilting in confusion at your question. His eyes narrow as he thinks about the question you asked.

“what’s… up… brother…?”

Francis looks up at the ceiling, taking your question to heart. upon seeing nothing on the ceiling, Francis can only shake his head and sigh at your antics.

“are you done with your tomfoolery, (Y/n)? i’m quite exhausted and would like to go up to my room and rest.”

you can only shake your head, clasping your hands together like a disappointed father getting ready to discuss their kids grades at the dinner table. you begin to explain.

“when Francis first walks in here, he always forgets one of three things… his keys, his hat or the crate of milk. you came in here, although exhausted, you seemed put together, unlike Francis, who is clearly going through a midlife crisis. Francis will then ask me about my cat, well, because he’s a cat person, though he insists no one knows. oh, and, Francis’s home phone has been broken for the past few days and is actually at the store, right now. so, Francis being here so soon, isn’t possible. that, and well, Francis never understands my references, but indulges me anyway… anything else i forgot, doppelganger?”

you bat your eyelashes, smirking from behind the window like you just cracked down the traitor in your group. with each statement, Francis’s doppelgänger’s face becomes visibly more and more angry until the doppelganger begins to completely change: black eyes with white pupils, a wide and eerie black mouth, adorned with long and sharp claws on the end of the doppleganger’s elongated limbs.

“you… you’ll regret this… i will get in one day and get my feast, starting with you. i’ll gut you, keep you alive so you can watch your organs fall out of your body and your blood splatter against-! *CLANK! BAM! PLINK!*”

before the doppelganger could finish his fantasy, much to your amusement, the doppleganger’s body tenses upon being struck before crumpling to the floor after becoming unconscious. you look up from the doppleganger’s body to see the real Francis hovering above the, possibly dead, doppelganger. you shrug, knowing that you wouldn’t have to call DDD services to take care of the mess, now you just have to clean up the body.

“mmm… tuesday… tuesday…? did i get that right?”

you hold back a chuckle at Francis’s response to your last question. you can only nod, letting Francis have the win this time. pinching the bridge of your nose and sighing, a loud laugh bubbles up from your throat as the two of you realized what Francis had hit the doppelganger with.

“ngh… i just bought this phone… damnit… his hard head must have broke it, ah, if i bring it back could i get a… refund…?”

#tnmn #tnmn milkman #tnmn fanfic #tnmn francis mosses #tnmn x reader #tnmn x male reader #that’s not my neighbor x male reader #that’s not my neighbor x reader #francis mosses x male reader #francis mosses x reader #doppleganger #d.d.d

[the-evil-lovable-simp]

Peach Peach x door person reader

(Is this good?)

"Is she back?" Nacha asked about her daughter.

"Yes ma'am, I'll let her in now," You answered.

"Oh thank you!" You heard on the other end of the line.

"No problem," You chirped, hanging up the phone before pressing the green button. "There you go kiddo," You said smiling at the teenage girl.

"Whatever," she said nonchalantly and went through.

You pressed the lock button, it is closing time, you were about to lock up until you started to hear footsteps, you are really hoping it wasn't Chester again, with his a thousand questions. The person finally reached the window, you didn't even look up you grabbed his ID.

You froze, his photo was a peach, it said peach peach peeeeaaach, even the expiry date was peach. You looked up and almost had a heart attack. It was a doppelganger of Robertsky.

"Errr, he....llo," You said unsure, as you grabbed the entry request.

"Peach pe pe peach," they said, you looked up at him and he blinked.

"Ok?" You muttered, as you looked down at the entry request he gave you, name: peach, last name: peach, and the reason, you took a double take.......Peach pe pe peach peach pe peach. Pe pe pe peach peach peach peach. Peach pe pe peach peach peach pe peach. You noticed the picture was a whole group of peaches. You looked up at his goofy grin and couldn't help but smile, you quickly hid it, this was a potential threat, buuuut, he really doesn't look like one. You eyed him and smirked. "So, you like peaches then?"

He got really excited, almost jumped but stopped himself "Peach peach pe pe peach peach!" he exclaimed.

You giggled at how surprisingly cute this doppelganger was. "Mmmmmm, should I let you in?"

"Pe peach!" He nodded.

You grabbed the list of who you were expecting today. "Mmmmmmmmm, you're not on today's list," You said still smirking, teasing him. He looked a bit stressed.

"Pe pe pe pe peach!" He tried to explain himself.

You tut and take a sharp breath making a ssssssssss sound. "I don't know...." You hovered your finger over the big red button.

"Peach peach peach!!!!!!!" He had his hands on the window and a worried look in his eyes. Your heart skipped a beat.

Hand, still hovering near the button. "You, don't, want me to push the button?" You asked still teasing, you weren't planning on pushing the button at all. He shook his head vigorously, his eyes flicking from your face to your hand, back and forth, he was breathing a bit faster than before, inspecting your every move.

"Ok," You say flatly, leaning into your chair, this took him by surprise. "What d'you want me to do then?" You asked knowing the answer.

"Pe peach pe pe peach," He said pointing at the green button.

"This one?" You asked pointing at the unlock door button.

"Pe peach!!" He nodded.

"Not this one?" You asked switching your hand over to the big red danger button, he started to panic again. "Ok, ok, if I let you in, are ya gonna kill anybody?" You asked, not smirking anymore. He shook his head, still looking worried.

"Well, you can't go harass the Peachman brothers, so where are ya planin' on stayin'?" you asked making eye contact with him. He looked shocked then sad.

"Pe peach peach pe pe peach," He said looking down, you felt bad.

"I see... erm, well, if you want... you could... stay with me. But only if you want," You paused and looked up to see him looking down at you. "I-is that a yes?" You asked a bit unnerved, he could be lying about not killing people.

He slowly nodded, and you hesitantly pressed the unlock button. He walked in and you started to lock up, for real this time. You walked up to him, a bit afraid, just like the real Robertsky, he was taller than you. He looked down at you with his big smile, not knowing what to do next. You grabbed his hand.

"Peach?" He asked as you dragged him down the hall to your apartment, F01-05.

"Shush, do you want everyone to hear you?!" You say, exasperated. You fiddled with your keys and finally opened the door, you walked in and looked behind you to notice him not following you in. You grabbed his hand once more and quickly pulled him in. You slammed the door behind you both and locked the many locks. You noticed him just stood there looking at you. "Erm, you, um... is Peach Peach your name?"

"Pe peach peach!" He said happily.

"I'll just take that as a yes," You said giggling. You untied your tie and threw it at the wall, it fell to the floor, you hung your hat on a hook next to the door. You walked up to your bedroom door and he followed you. "Eh-! W-what are you doing?" You asked, nervous, wondering if he had ever shared an apartment with anyone.

"Pe peach peach pe," He answers but you had no idea what he meant.

"Let me just get changed and then we can sort the sleeping arrangements out, ok?" You said opening the door.

"Peach!" He answered.

"Ok," then you went into your bedroom and closed the door.

———————

I might write a part 2…..

Look at this, for some reason it won't appear under the tags of peach doppelganger x reader, it exists:

#self insert #x reader #peach doppelgänger #peach doppelganger #peach doppelganger x reader #peach peach x reader #peaches x reader #fanfic #tnmn fanfic #tnmn x reader #that’s not my neighbor #tnmn #that’s not my neighbor x reader #peach doppelgänger x reader #x reader fluff #x reader fanfiction #tnmn fluff #door person reader

[unfortunatelysleepy]

@thehotgrandparent Ik i should be doing my own fic rn but for some reason i have motivation to do fanart but not my fic 😭

my artsyle be changing like my sleep schedule 💀

Hope you like the fanart pookie ❤️ (Berry is holding a knife because Margerette asked them to grab a knife for her to cook something for them lol. They’re just hiding it behind their back for dramatic purposes.)

Idk why but i feel like Berry would see Margerette as a mother figure 🤔… actually now i have thought of that that will now be my headcanon 😎 (accidental greatness lol/hj)

Really excited for ur fic!!/gen

#thats not my neighbor #tnmn fanart #tnmn fanfic #tnmn #art #mwah 💗

[scribbleweb]

Id: 565845455965... Check Entry request... Check On the list, check

"You're free to go, Mr. Rudboys," the doorman yawns, before putting his head back down on the desk, trying to get a nap in before the next resident arrives.

 It was a boring and tedious job, Steven figured, so he didn't hold it against him. He nods his head in thanks, as he walks through the door.

As hheads up to his apartment, he can't help but smile. Today is going to be a great day, he's sure.  He enters the elevator as another resident, Izaack Gauss is exiting. He flashes his signature smile, and Steven, being in a good mood, shoots back a small grin before the elevator closes.

Arriving at his floor, making his way to his apartment, something seems... Off.

He can hear something coming from inside- groaning? There's another noise, and then it stops abruptly. He furrows his brow, takes the door that should've been locked and throws it open.

He stares in shock and disbelief at the scene unfolding before him, and while any regular person's blood would run cold, his runs hot with anger. He can see what's left of Mclooy Rudboys, a puddle in the back hallway with but a few bone shards left. ...and in front of him, one dead Steven Rudboys, alive only moments ago, with a double crouched above him. 

"Oh fuck you!" 'Steven' shouts, ripping off his shades, exposing the yellows of his inhuman eyes. He no longer feels thankful to the doorman's sloppiness, who lets in the same guy 3 times without noticing? 

 The other doppelganger, already feasting on what was supposed to be his meal, snickers.  "Looks like we both played the same game, eh? Except I won." There's an edge to his voice, a snarl warning the other doppelganger to find a meal somewhere else.

'Steven' ignores it and takes a step forward, demanding, "Cmon, at least give me half-" 

"Hell no!" The other Doppelganger growls out angrily, "I got here first, I did all the work, I'm the one who's eating tonight"

"Just because you got here first doesn't mean I didn't put in the same effort," he complains, gesturing to himself. "I worked hard on this disguise, I memorized his schedule, and fooled the doorman,"

"I'd hardly call it 'fooling the doorman', that guy's been sleeping through most of his shift and let three Stevens in without a second thought," the other Doppelganger scoffed and rolled his eyes.  "And anyways, that's not my problem. You're late, I already caught these. Go feast somewhere else," He says digging into the original Steven's body, making a mess of himself.

'Steven' stomps over to the two, with clear attitude. He plops himself down on the other side of the body, and takes a huge bite of the original's arm, all while making eye contact with the other doppelganger.  "Fuck you," he says again, mouth full of bloodied raw meat. 

"I hope you choke on it," the other responds.

The two eat in silence, clear tension in the air. They're making quick work, determined to eat faster than the other, to devour a bigger portion of their now-shared meal. It would be too much trouble to fight, they figured. One of the other residents would hear the commotion, and call the D.D.D. Then neither of them would get a good dinner.

The idea of sharing is unacceptable to them, but after each eating an entire arm too fast to really savor it, one breaks the silence.

"Fine," he starts, "we'll split this one. One takes the top half, the other takes the bottom," he decides, shoving the other away from the cadaver's torso. 

"Good," 'Steven' says with a sharp toothy smile, and you can feel the smug satisfaction radiating off him. 

"Whatever, just hurry up, I want to get out of here before anyone finds out, I'm not taking my chances with the DDD,"

"You know", the other says between bites, now working on the original's thigh.

"My plan was to just take over Stevens life. Pretend to be him, use this place to lure back more food, maybe some dates. No one would ever know he was gone," he looks down at the body and the pool of blood spilt around it. "Cleaning the place up looks like a pain, though..." He trails off.

The man stops for a moment, thinking about what the other doppelganger said. "Actually, that's a really good idea. It would be so easy to take over, pretend like I'm him. The doorman here is incompetent, he wouldn't even suspect anything. He let me right in. And then I could just keep eating as much as I wanted. No one would ever catch me."

"Us," he corrected. "It's my plan. And-" he points to his disguise "I'm Steven," he says with a smirk.

 The other Steven rolls his eyes, but thinking about how easy the plan is, he agrees. "Fine. Your plan. Whatever. We're going to share it. But I pull off that pathetic excuse for a disguise better than you anyways."

That elicits a glare from the other doppelganger, clearly offended. But otherwise he leaves it at that, intent on finishing up their meal.

"When we're done here, we need to think about who is next. If Steven's visitors keep going missing it'll be suspicious, we'll need to move to another identity eventually.. Any of the neighbors look tasty?"

"hmm," he says thoughtfully. "There's Francis Mosses, just down the hall. He should be easy."

"I've seen him come and go a few times, he looks like a snack," He licks his lips, "It'll be easy to take him out, we'll split him, take our own halves, and move on to the next one."

"I'm not gonna be stuck with the bottom every time, am I?"

"No, of course not. We'll switch them up, keep it fair. I already called the top on this one though, so the next one's yours."

"Oh! There's a pair of twins on one of the other floors, they'd be easy to split"

"The twins, I like that idea. The two of us could each take one of them, be one of them. No one would ever suspect a thing."

'Steven' holds his hand out, not seeming to care that it's covered in blood. They're both drenched, anyways "it's a deal then?" The other double looks at his hand, at the blood covering it. Then he shrugs, and shakes it.

"Deal."

#tnmn #that's not my neighbor #steven rudboys #Tnmn fanfic #Ficlet #thats not my neighbor #doppelganger

[thefawnfallacy]

“Have you heard about Francis?” “About Francis, what about Francis?”

Selenne leans in closer to Elenois with a wide grin, her perfume — something bright and sweet — wafting off of her. “You didn’t hear it from me but he’s treating the boys so rough, they call it rape.” “But Francis is so mild!”

Elenois gasps and shakes her head in disbelief. “Can’t believe it. Francis, are you sure?” “Not a doppelgänger, dear, his accent gave him away.”

Both sisters sigh and Elenois lights a cigarette. “Poor things. What did he do to them? Any details?”

Selenne took the offered cigarette with a noise of thanks.

“Boys said he was quite rough. Blood all down their thighs and everything but he made them.. ya know. Confused those poor little things to high hell and back.”

“Well, if he’s such a Romeo in bed, Nacha wouldn’t have left him.” “I don’t suppose she had the right parts.”

Tittering laughter filled the air between them.

“He do it to anyone in the building?”

Selenne shakes her head but her delighted smile gives her away.

“I suspect the doorman might be his taste, don’t you? Last one wasn’t nearly as pretty or gullible. I bet all Francis has to do is look real sad and he’ll be adding another tally to his list!”

The sister laugh conspiratorially through cigarette smoke.

“Oughta warn the poor thing.” “Oh, sister, now where’s the fun in that?”

#free entertainment #that’s not my neighbor #francis mosses #tnmn milkman #elenois sverchzt #selenne sverchzt #tnmn fanfic #drabble #pov outsider #antis do not interact #duh #tnmn doorman #cw noncon

[notmyneighbor]

That’s Not My Neighbor Francis Mosses/The Milkman Fanfic Masterlist

Let Me In (completed) - Doppelganger Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Doorman Female Reader

Word Count - 40k

CW - explicit sexual content, body horror, minor blood and violence, pregnancy

Tumblr Chapter 1 ~ 2 ~ 3 ~ 4 ~ 5 ~ 6 ~ 7 ~ 8 ~ 9 ~ 10 ~ 11

AO3 Chapter 1 ~ 2 ~ 3 ~ 4 ~ 5 ~ 6 ~ 7 ~ 8 ~ 9 ~ 10 ~ 11

Bonus - Spotify playlist courtesy of @pear-18 here

Back Alley (completed) - Doppelganger Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Waitress Female Reader

Word Count - 5k

CW - explicit sexual content, minor blood and violence

Tumblr

AO3

A New Neighbor (ongoing) - Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Female Babysitter Reader, Francis Mosses x Nacha Mikaelys

CW - explicit sexual content, cheating

Tumblr

AO3

Special Delivery (completed) -Doppelganger Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Female Reader

Word Count - 3.3k

CW - explicit sexual content

Tumblr

AO3

#francis mosses x reader #francis mosses x you #thats not my neighbor #francis mosses #milkman #milkman x reader #milkman x you #the milkman #doppelganger #that’s not my neighbor #tnmn #tnmn fanfic #tnmn francis mosses #thats not my neighbour milkman #tnmn milkman #francis tnmn #divider @strangergraphics

[paymechildsupport]

Doppel!GOJO x Reader // "Looks Satoru Enough.." [JJK x TNMN crossover au] 🥛🔵

---

PROMPTS (combined):

"so what about gojo but hes a doppelganger like the milkman. and basically (afab) reader is his girlfriend and doppelganger gojo pretty much is obsessed with reader. so then one day reader finds out and doppelganger gojo is pretty much just scared but all reader cares about is if he loves her. and so he basically confirms that he loves her and is obsessed with her, and then from that point on just smut....

"doppelganger Satoru who tricks you into letting him inside. But once he's in he doesn't care about killing the neighbours he just wants to fuck you and give you all his cum milk. If you're feeling extra down bad maybe some breeding kink 😊(ofc he's the milkman in this)"

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

>> @maskedpacific @sadmonke hope I did your prompts justice, a lot of it was winged 😋🥛

JJK TNMN au: all the characters of JJK just in TNMN

-!! Monsterfucking ; oral sex ; overstim(?) ; he has a really long tongue

-!! No pronouns, -- genetalia is referred to as a "hole" -- so creative reading freedom

——— 

Doppel!Gojo who assumed the identity of your pretty boyfriend after devouring his decaying corpse behind a back alleyway,— his first and only thought of entering the complex, your complex 

Doppel!Gojo who for months beforehand could only admire you from afar, confined to the shadows. He could look, but he could not touch. He’d glare in envy as his parallel self continued about his normal life,— milkman everyday, delivering your neighbors with their daily supply of dairy. His company slogan: “The Strongest”, because milk made your bones nice and strong (you see what I did there? You see the pun? Yeah.. okay, I’ll stop 😔). 

He was your boyfriend,— yet he’d never look at you. You’d simply be off to the side, smiling, forced to observe as you the frustratingly cocky real Satoru Gojo borderlined flirted with your other neighbors. He didn’t even touch you anymore,— so busy socializing, working- stuck in that silly little head of his,— every night your neglected body would have to sleep in a cold bed. 

The real Gojo also happened to be the strongest DDD agent out there, — the best of the best— ; when he wasn’t the milkman he was out slaughtering those wretched doppelgängers trying to claw into everyday human life. Single-handedly, he’d manage to keep your specific complex completely Doppel free for the past decade. You often wondered if you’d all survive a day without his protection. He had such a keen eye, always knowing a fake when he saw one. Yet another thing keeping him busy: he’s the strongest, he’s suppose to protect everyone,— and you were just his lover,— no, side piece. 

Doppel!Gojo knew he could do better, knew he could treat you like you deserve. If— no, when — he stole the real Gojo’s life his one and only priority would be to shower you in the love and affection you so deserved. He was by far the most advanced of his kind, an almost exact replica,— having all the same defining features as the original: snowy hair, bright blue eyes,— though slightly eerier than the original pair,— and that same cocky, lopsided smirk.

You’d started to branch out, seeing as your ‘boyfriend’ clearly had more important issues— he just wasn’t ready for a relationship,— you being the biggest victim of his inflated ego. Too proud to let you go, but too self conscious to properly stand by your side 

So, you’d often talk to the other residents of the complex: Nanami— a spokesperson, and Shoko— the surgeon, have quickly become your newest buddies. 

Doppel!Gojo knew you like the back of his charred, clawed hand— the only differentiating key feature,- a staple of all doppelgängers. Covering them with the gloves of Gojo’s milkman uniform was easy enough. He had spent ages observing from afar, admiring,- adoring,- practically drooling everytime you’d double take in an alleyway when you swore you heard a noise behind you. He could watch you for eternity, looking inside of your apartment through an open window, cock erect and unbelievably hard in the confines of those mortal pants. 

Doppel!Gojo has been patient, and now that it’s finally his turn, the only thing on his mind is getting your perfect body spread on his bed, fully bare and naked for him to feast upon. 

With the ���strongest” dead, it would take practically nothing for the doppelgängers to break in and overrun the place,— but all he did was slaughter whatever doppelgänger crossed his path on his way to your room. Practically breaking the door down, you had no time to react before your boyfriend slammed you against the wall, mouth open in a small “o” as he began feasting.

---

“S—Satoru.?” it’s been forever since your voice pitched like that, syllables squeaking from the overdose of pleasure between your thighs

“Mmm?” the snowy white of his head lifts up momentarily from your thighs, blue eyes blinking innocently. He hums, playing with the elastic of your panties, pulling and slapping them against your thigh, “s’mthing you need, baby?” 

“I.. *hic*” sparks fly through your system as his warm tongue presses against the growing wet spot of your underwear, throwing your head back, “AH– .. *hic*. n-..no-” 

He smiles, all teeth, and you can’t help but feel like prey the way he eyes you; hungry, – starving, even. 

“Hmm.. if you say so,” 

You gasp as he tears your panties off, the cold air slapping you. He licks his lips, an animalistic urge overtaking him as he dips down between your legs. 

You're stuck wide eyed, only able to watch as his snowy head bobs up and down, tongue suddenly grazing your entrance. 

“S-SATORU– .. G-GAhh.. ngha~.” You mewl, pleasure curling through your body as he curls his tongue, flicking it just in the opening, almost exactly where you need him, “c-CAReful, – Sato..- aa OOh~” he takes long, full strokes with his tongue, the muscle slipping right into your slick hole. He groans at the taste of you, sloppily twisting his tongue inside. You buck your hips, fucking his tongue into you, squealing at the way he slobbers. His lips grace your ass, practically making out with the lips of your soaked folds. You can’t even question how he’s still breathing, being suffocated between your thighs, – nor why his tongue is so inhumanly long, hitting deeper than what even any human cock should, – not when he fucks you with it so good. 

Sharp blades pierce the meat of your legs, causing you to shriek, the pain immediately drowning in the immense waves of pleasure racking through your body. ‘Satoru’ grips you, spreading your plush ass further while his tongue digs absurdly deep inside you. Your insides are coated in his saliva, the warm, strong muscle of his tongue finally hitting your pelvis, – and you come hard. 

He eagerly laps you up, drinking from you like you were the finest of wines. 

“God.. you taste.. Heavenly” 

You can only shake violently as his tongue retracts from your inside, done invading your organs. Thick, heavy sobs rack your entire body, thick coils of pure pleasure tighten, wanting more. 

A predatory smile donning his features, ‘Satoru’ licks his chops like a dog eyeing a particularly tasty treat. Hastily ripping off his tie and peeling away his clothing, ‘Satoru’ eases your body onto the living room couch, spreading you out perfectly for him before lowering himself on top of you. 

You grab his face, cupping his cheeks in your hands. He’s practically glowing, pale, milky skin soft underneath your fingers. His blue eyes bore deeply into yours, absolutely stealing what little breath you had left away. 

You should ask what the hell that was, who fuck, – or rather, – what the fuck was he, and what’d he do to your cold-shouldered boyfriend. 

But as you gaze into those sapphire windows, you can only whisper; 

“Do you still love me..?” voice soft and thick with the tears choking your throat. 

‘Satoru’ brings is blackened claw to your face, long, agile fingers wiping away your tears, 

“Of course I do… I love you more than everything, – more than you could possibly imagine.” (not like he was wrong)

You smile softly, body too weak to lift itself up to kiss him. 

He brings his lips to yours, and you kiss him back. 

Looks Satoru enough. --

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

milk. 🥛🥛🥛🥛🥛🥛🥛🥛🥛

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk oneshot #jjk x gender neutral reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #milkman smut #tnmn smut #tnmn fanfic #crossover #jjk au #gojo x reader #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo smut #gojo x reader smut #gojou satoru x reader #satoru x reader smut #tnmn au #jjk crossover #smut #satoru smut

[yesimilkdamilkman]

adding to this post, i found hoon hoon art with his tongues out!!

credit to @mewintheflesh-2 

this is also something I KNOW hoony has besides the tenacles. Not all Doppelgangers look the same when they're not mimicking themselves as others.

dont know if you seen this already but if you havent here :3

tag list: @caotictimmy

#𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐞𝐬𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬🗒📃🕯️🧾 #tnmn francis mosses #francis tnmn #tnmn #tnmn fanart #tnmn milkman #francis mosses #francis mosses x black reader #francis mosses thats not my neighbor #francis mosses smut #francis mosses x you #francis mosses x reader #doppelganger francis mosses #thats not my neighbour milkman #thats not my neighbor #tnmn fanfic #hoon man

[missouki]

𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒌𝒎𝒂𝒏

𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰: save the cow or milk the milkman? Unsure if it's his doppelganger or not, your'e not hesitant for a creampie though.

Blood that had dried up on his clothes that were now on the floor and his milkman hat on top of your head. He groans as he lays his head back, you wrap your hands around his neck as you bounce. You were practically milking the milkman, you let him suck your tits as you make an orgasm and paint your walls white.

His cock was coated in white cream, he stares at your bouncy breast while his hands focuses on rubbing the bulging point in your stomach. Your velvet walls were sore from all the friction, the milkman feels you slowly closing your leg. His veiny hands grab your thighs in an attempt to prevent them from closing, "You will keep up with me and stop when I want to.."

Your nails dig through his back to scratch it as your legs wrapped itself around his waist. Your back makes contact with the cold wall, the milkman gropes your ass cheeks as he lets his cock travel deeper inside you with each thrust. You can feel a flood of cum slipping out of your hole and falling down the floor, his thighs were messy with white cream and your cunt was clenching everytime his dick moves in and out.

You lay flat on the floor with your bare pussy, the milkman bends you over and pulls your body closer to him. He inserts a finger inside your pussy "It's still wet, let's continue~?" He says inserting another finger to feel your slimy walls. You roll your eyes back, if he lets his long veiny fingers travel deeper, he could already reach that g-spot. He pulls it out as he spreads your folds and pushes his cock inside you, this doggy position has you going feral. His dick was hitting it and you could already feel yourself making an orgasm again.

The milkman was surely enjoying himself. Watching you bounce his cock, spreading your legs for him, and your bouncy breast that tempts him. You were already on the verge of crying from pleasure, he holds your legs up as he lets his hip do the job for you. Each thrust has you whining and milking on his cock, your soft pussy was blushing and making squelching sounds everytime he rams it inside fully. The milkman will come back again for delivery tomorrow~

missouki ©: all works belong to mitsuki, do not reblog on any other platforms.

˚ ✧ *. 𝒎𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒊-𝒇𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒎 ‧₊˚ ✧ 𝒎.𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 . ‧₊˚ ✧

���⁀➷ links for more related contents related to this, drop some reqs / asks for ideas. Let's be moots on my socials ~ ♡

#francis mosses #milkman #milkman x reader #that's not my neighbor #male insert #male x reader #francis mosses x reader #francis mosses x you #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #x reader #tnmn

[rennenaway]

I mean

I'm not wrong?

#francis mosses #thats not my neighbor #tnmn #Kisses for all the artists who draw him as the pathetic middle aged guy he is #Mwah mwah #But like i see this so often #It's mainly the Doppelgänger fanarts who are like crazy yandere-fied #Which idm they're supposed to be that way i think #But like there's so much fanfic with this guy being the absolutes 'alpha male' ever #Which is so funny cause look at him #He just wants to sleep #Also can't believe that these shitposts do better than my actual art