Kugo Sakamata (Gang Orca)-

Kugo Sakamata (Gang Orca)-

Y/N's Melody

♡ ♡ ~

Dating Pro-hero Gang Orca has never been short of interesting. He's attentive, loving, and an amazing partner. What Kugo brings to the bedroom has always rocked your world- but tonight is a little different. Your fertile scent activates his animalistic side, and he shows you just how much that effects him.

Masterlist | More My Hero Academia

Gang Orca x Fem!Reader

wc: 3k

author's note: I am not a marine biologist, nor do I claim to be. I did research up some whale mating patterns, but it was interesting to find that there is a lot unknown out there. Anyways, that’s about as much research as I’ll ever catch myself doing for erotic fanfiction. Enjoy! 🐳

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Killer whales have an interesting mating pattern.

Not only do the males have to sometimes fight off other competition, but they also sing for their potential mates. A personalized song meant for their match, a melody that’s purpose is to turn the female on enough to allow for fertilization to happen.

This was no different for Kugo, whose mutant-type quirk allows him the abilities of a Killer whale. Mating rituals included.

Being with Kugo has been nothing short of interesting. Every time the two of you did it felt like the first, always learning something new about one another and falling deeper in love with each moment.

Like killer whales, Gang Orca sings to you when he’s feeling, well… when he’s feeling frisky.

The song was always the same, but it was beautiful. A series of deep tones followed by a special series of clicks that he put together just for you. Every time you heard it, it made your heart soar and your pussy flutter. Yes, your anatomy had ended up being very different, but at the end of the day you were a fertile female, and he was very very male.

You watched the way his cock swayed between his legs. Kugo was indeed a whale-mutant, there was no doubt about it. His shaft was heavy, the sheer weight of it made it swing as he walked towards you. Your wide eyes took in his naked body-

His sculpted black and white chest, shiny and smooth in the low light of your shared bedroom. Chiseled abs created from his hard work as a pro-hero, each muscle making your mouth water as you brought your eyes even lower.

His cock bobbed as he walked towards you on the bed, his erection prominent and bulging. Just like males of his animal species, Kugo’s cock wasn’t that of a human man, but of an Orca whale. The appendage was tentacle-like, a thick base the size of your forearm that led to a tapered tip. His coloring was a deep, dusty pink… it stood out from the rest of his body, but the way it twitched and leaked had you salivating.

As he made his way to you, his song clicked and echoed in the room. The melody dancing across your mind, it sent shivers down your spine to hear. You loved the way he sang for you. It allowed you to tell when he was in the mood, and that he only had eyes for you.

It also helped that those sharp clicks made your nipples erect and clit twitch. It was like an animalistic response- one that mammals must have developed thousands of years ago. Deep down, your heart soared to hear his special song. It relaxed you, calmed you down when you were upset, and basically, made you horny as hell.

As he got closer, you leaned back onto your elbows.

Kugo wasn’t the only one that was naked. You brought your knees up onto the edge of the bed, a position similar to missionary. Except in this case, you exposed yourself to him.

His song rang louder as he watched you reach down with one hand, separating the lips of your cunt as you unashamedly showed yourself to him.

He stopped just short of you, his song halting as you listened to him inhale deeply. The smell of your arousal filled his nostrils, it made his dick pulse with a strong need to sink into you. He eyed your open slit greedily, wanting to sink himself down deep inside of you.

“I’m only barely holding myself back, Y/N. When you do this… I- I feel the pull to breed you.”

“Then what are you waiting for, Kugo?”

Your words were temptation- lewering him in close like a fish on bait. He wanted you- he always fucking wanted you. But tonight was a little different.

Tonight he could smell your ovulation.

If he were to sink his tentacle-like cock into you, you would be bred fully, like a bitch in heat. The scent was there, prominent and arousing.

“My Sweet…” he starts.

The nickname he used for you always made you blush- it was a window into the soft side of his normally formal pro-hero self.

“If we do this- the results of our actions will be the fruit of our labor…”

“So… you're saying that I’m ovulating?” You smiled, silently giggling at his stoic choice of words.

He exhales before answering you. “Yes my Sweet… if we continue, you’ll be pregnant before the night ends.”

“Kugo…” your voice was soft as you got up to stand in front of him. You reached out to caress his beak softly, the cool rubber-like skin was a relief on your heated palm.

“I would love nothing more to make a baby with you…” you smile warmly at him, a grin that stretches from ear to ear when you hear his only answer to your tempting words- his song for you.

His hand comes up and clasps around the wrist that touches his face, gripping it lightly as he uses the other to rest against the small of your back. He pulls you in close and nuzzles the crook of your neck.

Although Kugo was unable to kiss you, you never minded that fact. He made up his love for you in other ways, and as he lifted his head back up, still singing, you placed a chaste kiss on the tip of his mouth.

Finally, he takes both your hands in his- deep eyes lock with yours and you notice the way his expression changes.

Once soft eyes turn dark as you feel the wetness of his hard cock slither against your skin. He squeezes your wrist tight before speaking.

“On the bed, My Sweet… I want you on all fours.”

You smile wide, enjoying when your mate gets a little rough.

“Yes sir.” You answer him, voice sultry and ready.

As you turn back around he lightly swats your ass, making you jump and hurry onto the bed in the position he requested. You couldn’t wait to see what he had in store for tonight.

Now on your hands and knees, you could do nothing but wait- the time passed slowly, and just as you were about to say something you felt cool, large hands massaged your backside.

“I love your ass, you know…” he tells you as he squeezes your cheeks. “I love seeing your little holes all open like this, just for me…”

You moan at his lewd words, arching your back and giving him a better view of your darkest places.

“You’re so fucking wet right now- I can see your pussy shine with it.”

A finger swipes up and down your folds, making you moan out and put your head down. You listened to your cunt squelch under his soft touch, your ass high in the air for his pleasure.

After Kugo made you sufficiently soaked, he removed all touch from you completely. You groaned in frustration, upset that he didn’t bring you to orgasm like he usually did.

It was then that you heard the drawer of the nightstand open. Followed by Kugo’s hum of delight, you hear a click followed by a monotone purrring sound.

“Oh god!” You cried out.

It was your hitachi wand.

Kugo brought the head of your toy up to your clit- placing it directly on the hardened bud as he sent vibrations tingling throughout your entire body.

“That’s it baby… I want you to cum for me.”

You rocked back into the toy, desperate to be filled and aching for his cock. Your folds were soaked, you could feel yourself leak onto the thing sheet below, no doubt making a complete mess.

“Fuck- Kugo, please…” you cried out.

He only turned the vibration up higher, jolting your body in shock and sending you deeper into the bed. The pro-hero admired the way you fisted the sheets, he could see the shivers running throughout your body from the vibrations. Your toes were curling, and he couldn’t get enough of it.

“What was that, My Sweet… did you need something?”

He was teasing you, enjoying the way your body broke out in a thin sheen of sweat as he rubbed the vibrating head deeper into your hardened clit.

It drove you insane, your hands fisting the sheets as you were so close to your orgasm. You couldn’t seem to get over that hill of frustration, desperate to be filled by anything to get you there.

“Fuck Kugo…baby- I need you, need your fingers- something!” You cried out, frustrated and begging for pleasure.

You could almost hear the way he grins, eager and yet strategic in his plan for you. Waiting for a few more moments of bliss, he brings his fingers back to your entrance.

You feel the way his fingers play with your juices, spreading the honey of your pussy across your lower lips as he toyed with you further. Moving your hips back, you show him just how desperate you are for him. You rock against his touch in earnest, attempting to increase the friction as best you can.

Just as you open your mouth to beg, Kugo sinks two of his largest fingers into you. He drives the appendages down to his knuckles, fucking you with his fingers and he rolls the head of the wand in circles onto your now-swollen clit.

“Yes- that’s it baby, take what you need.”

He watches you, practically hypnotized by the way you fuck yourself on his fingers. He meets the movements of your backside, pounding into you with his hand as he drives you closer to orgasm.

“God- fuck, I’m gonna cum, fuck it feels so good!”

He can see the way your cunt tightened around him. As he dragged his fingertips against your gummy walls, he felt each and every twitch of your insides as you squirt back onto his hand.

The vibrations on your clit along with Kugo’s fingers inside of you send you flying. Your eyes roll back as you cum hard onto his hands, your juices cover his wrist and the bed below as you drench your partner in your cum.

You can hear Kugo’s song as he uses it to coax you down from your blissful state, the hums and clicks bringing you back down to earth as you collapse onto the bed from exhaustion.

He turns off the vibrator, setting it down as he admires your blissful state. He loved to see you like this- fucked out and on cloud 9, it made him hard as fuck and he felt like he was about to burst. His tip leaked between his legs, coating his strong inner thighs in precum as he watched you with water eyes.

Once he felt like you were okay enough to continue, he stopped his song and positioned himself behind you.

“I hope you’re ready, My Sweet.”

You felt the way the smooth tip of his cock ran through your sensitive folds. He collected your wetness as his shaft rubbed against your core, his precum mixing with your previous release as he prepared you to take him.

Your moans filled the room as he teased you with his shaft, the heat of his tentacle-like member threatening to send you over. It was a slimy mess, the noises your wet folds made against him had you both on edge.

Once Kugo decided you were ready, he positioned himself at your entrance. Slowly, he began to enter you from behind. He held your hips tight, holding you up against him as he thrusted in.

You felt yourself begin to stretch- the girth of his cock increasing as he pressed each inch into your tight hole.

“Oh God… Kugo…” you moaned, attempting to pierce yourself even further on his shaft.

“Shhh.. My Sweet, that’s it,” he praises you, holding your hips in place and forcing you to take him slowly.

He loved watching the way your body accepted his massive length, mesmerized by the sight of you stretched tight around him. Each time you pushed your body back to take him completely, he had to hold himself still from burying himself inside of your heat.

“You’re such a good girl,” he continued his praise, “that’s right, take it all in…”

Cool hands squeeze the fat of your ass cheeks, massaging them as if to encourage the stretch of your tiny cunt. You were drooling at this point, moans fell freely from your lips as you relaxed your core in order to take him all the way in.

“Fuck Kugo!” You scream out in bliss as you feel his lower abdomen meet your hips.

He bottomed out inside of you, giving you a moment to relax your body and adjust to his massive size.

“That’s right Sweet girl… think I can move now?” he asks you, concern lacing his voice even through the sheer bliss he was feeling right now.

It made your heart soar that he cared so much to guarantee your pleasure. You nodded your head and gave him a soft “yes,” indicating that he was free to move.

It was that moment that Kugo Sakamata lost control.

Seeing you beg for him with your eyes, so sweet and full of trust did something to him. The knot of tension in his lower belly snapped as his animalistic instincts kicked in.

He pulled his long and girthy cock out of you, inch by inch until just the tapered tip of his member brushed against the opening of your cunt. Then, with a click of his voice, he thrusted into you.

His biceps bulged as he repeated the action over and over again- running the thickness of his girth against your gummy walls as he pounded into you from behind.

Your eyes rolled back, your mouth opened wide as you panted under the grasp of his hands.

“Fuuuuuck, Kugo I-”

You were lost for words. The only thing you could do was moan and drool onto the bed below as he mounted you like a beast in heat.

Control long gone, Gang Orca lost all sense of being as he felt the way your pussy clamped around his cock. It shouldn’t feel this good- but your size difference meant that his cock stretched your walls to your limits, and he carved out a place for himself inside of you with each thrust.

“My Sweet- I’m gonna, fuck, I’m gonna cum…”

His words came out as a growl, you felt him tighten his grip as he increased his pace. He fucked you hard and fast, each snap of his hips brought the kiss of his heavy balls against your swollen clit. Your eyes went cross as the delicious heat of the stretch was soothed by the bliss of him moving his thick shaft against your wet walls.

Suddenly, you felt him angle his hips downward, thrusting so hard you felt the tip of his cock press against your cervix. He was deep, touching your womb with every thrust of his heavy cock as a particularly sharp thrusts sent you over once more.

Kugo feels you tighten around him- your walls clamping down on him with an iron grip as you cum hard around him.

“Shit-” he says, feeling the splash of warm liquid on his abdomen.

You scream out as you squirt on him, the thrusts of his hips never slowing as he fucks you through your orgasm. Your legs shake under you, your mind is numb as you take every inch of his cock through your pleasure.

Completely fucked out, the only words you can say over and over again are “Give it to me!”

Your cries for his cum push Kugo further, past the point of caring whether or not he hurts you or not. He was chasing his own release, your begging was something relatively new as he loses himself in you.

“Fuck-I’m going to to cum…” he growls out, feeling the way his sack seizes against the base of his shaft.

“Please sir- please cum in me, I want it- want your kids…”

You were completely lost to him, loving each inch he gave you as he pounded into your tiny body below him. His hands would leave large bruises and your pussy would be swollen from the onslaught of his thrusts the next day.

Kugo squeezes you hard, moving your body back to meet his own thrusts. The swaying of your bodies moved in sync like a dance- and it was then he began to sing for you.

His song got louder as he neared his end. By the time he pounded into you one final time, Gang Orca’s music echoed in your shared bedroom, filling your heart with love as he stilled himself inside of you.

He buried himself as deep as he would go, the tip of his cock nestled in your womb as you felt his heat fill you. Kugo emptied himself into your cunt- thick, hot seed filled you up. You felt yourself stretch even further as your body was forced to accommodate both his load and member at the same time.

“Oh Kugo… fuck- it feels’ so good…” you cry out. You were overwhelmed with emotion, feeling so warm and sated with your mate. And you knew he felt it too, his song rang loud as he filled your body with his seed...

He completely empties himself inside of you- doing his best to ensure his cum would stick.

“Y/N..” he starts, “My Sweet Y/N…”

Smooth hands massaged your now-bruised backside, his touch gone gentle as he kept himself seated deep inside your womb…

“Kuuuugoo…” you moaned, realizing he was still hard inside of you.

“Shh… Y/N… we will continue in a moment…”

And sure, Gang Orca may have finished once, but he was far from done…

💖•Welcome to the Simp Council•💖

•Meet the Simp Supreme•

•Simp Approved‼️•

•Sobbing😭•

•Dark Mode💀•

•At Night😏•

•Heart Dividers•

Imagine shooting your shot at dragon-form Rex Lapis.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

Rex Lapis is enjoying a tranquil afternoon in his lofty dragon form, out in the fields of Tianqiu Valley. His nation is currently at peace, so he can afford himself a day of relaxation out in the open. His fluffy tail goes swish-swish as his ever-twinkling eyes languidly take in the serenity that sweeps over Liyue's emerald fields.

He senses someone approaching, and casually rears his head to find you heading towards him. Ah, sweet-looking mortal. Rex Lapis purrs softly as a gesture of welcome. He is at rest, but should you have anything troubling you, he would be more than willing to assist. Or perhaps you would like to relax with him as well? He imagines you napping against his smooth scales and delights at the thought.

"Lord Morax Rex Lapis Yanwang Dijun Prime of Adepti, I have something to tell you!" you burst out awkwardly once you've reached him, hands on your hips.

He lets out a quiet, amused huff at the usage of the titles. He utters kindly, "I am all ears, little one."

You're wearing a cheeky but hopeful grin. "I can take you!"

Rex Lapis blinks slowly. Then, he tilts his head, intrigued. “Take me where? We shall head out at once.”

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

Bonus:

"Why not, my lord? Why couldn't you be my dragon husband?"

"My dear, my copulatory appendage is the size of your entire body."

"...Yes, and?"

König who leaves you little notes when he has to leave the house earlier than you. they're small colorful post its that he sticks on any surface he can.

the tradition started quite a while ago. back when he would leave for ops without telling you, coming back and missing you just by a few minutes. it took a toll on the relationship. he wasn't allowed to have his phone on during ops and there was no way of contacting him.

so one time you took out your old stationary stack and scribbled ' do NOT leave your muddy boots on my white rug when you come back', the pink post it was stuck to the entryway hallway wall. right where he meticulously hangs his jacket every time he comes back home in the dead of night.

when könig read the note a smile tugged on his lips. he took the steel toe boots and put them in the bathroom, deciding to clean them off tomorrow. after a long shower the sun was creeping up on the horizon and the austrian stood in your shared kitchen, ransacking the cabinets.

his strudel that he always buys from a small pastry shop had run out, the milk was turning sour by the smell and there was no more beer. looking at the clock and realizing that you will be up in 40 minutes to go to work he finds a post it and starts writing.

'i went to the store to buy some groceries. please if you eat my strudel leave some for me next time liebe'

the neon yellow note on the fridge caught your attention as you were frantically trying to put together a small breakfast to scarf down before you were late. with a quirk of your brow you picked up a different post it and stuck it right below his.

' you know i dont eat your layered pastries. you were the one that ate the remainder of it after getting drunk.

p.s please make some food for lunch, i'll swing by on my break'

the method worked for you. sometimes it was a list of stuff to get for the house, a little poem you would try to write in german, a reminder for an important date, but sometimes it was just a sweet ' i love you' written in cursive and stuck to the wall behind your bed.

' please stop trying to write in german schatzi, the grammar is hurting my eyes. at least use google translate'

' PLEASE DO NOT TAKE MY PANTIES ON YOUR OPS I'M RUNNING LOW ON UNDERWEAR!!!!'

' soup's in the fridge. get some baking soda when you go to the store'

' i love you hase! p.s sorry i broke your laptop it was an accident'

'how did you ACCIDENTALLY sit on my work laptop'

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

Chapter 8

Word Count ~ 4.6k

Rating ~ Explicit

CW ~ sexual content, slight breeding kink, body horror, minor violence

Also available on AO3

taglist @luthien-elvenia-asher @fishfetus @gaudesstuff @nekee-lilac02 @msdevil333 @rrnrjn @maskedpacific @yoongiwantsme @that-0ne-simp

Fanart used with permission @kaworinx on Instagram and TikTok

You always have to be extra careful when one of the Sverchzt sisters is asking to enter the building.

Twins, and both of them nearly identical, save for the location of the mole on the cheek: on the right for Selenne, the left for Elenois. Both employed as models, with the same hourglass figures, full, painted lips, long lashes, and breathy voices accented with something exotically European sounding. You always feel very plain and lacking around them; it was like being back in school again as the shy, unpopular girl, envying the pretty cheerleaders that seemed to have it all.

But you don’t feel inadequate today, still buoyed up from your feelings of being with Francis’ doppelgänger all weekend. You look over the identification card and entry request, finding everything in order. The elegant woman is on the day’s list of expected entrants, too. You’re nearly ready to hit the switch to grant her access into the apartments, still reminiscing about your fiancé, when something in you, some sixth sense kicking in, cautions you that you should probably call the apartment, just to be certain. There is nothing visually you can identify that is incorrect about the haughty woman on the opposite side of the glass, who is now folding her arms across her ample chest, the polished nail of an index finger tapping against the porcelain skin of one slender forearm. An impatient gesture you’ve seen Selenne make before, dozens of times. Nothing suspicious about the documents, either. But still, you feel it is better to be safe than sorry.

You already know all the residents’ phone numbers by heart now, the quick four digit extensions granting you rapid access.

“Hello. Elenois speaking. My sister and I are both at home today. We are not expecting any visitors.”

“Thank you.” You keep your expression calm, hurriedly flipping the plastic shield down and depressing the button to sound the alarm, catching one last glimpse of the doppelgänger, the crimson polished nails now scratching at the glass pane, the eyes with the lids shadowed in lavender streaked and bloodshot, the plush lips parting to expose yellow fangs dripping spittle before the shutters finish descending. You phone the disposal team, still maintaining your composure.

Close. That had been too close. You had to concentrate. Focus.

The day progresses and you find yourself getting back into the rhythm of things. Wondering how your pretender beau had decided which members of his squadron to sacrifice, sending them to the building to meet their doom to throw the DDD off the trail. What would happen when the numbers dwindled, when there were none left to send? Did the faded mark he’d left behind still shield you? Or did it only make you more desireable, like what had happened with the replicant who looked like Izaack Gauss?

You’re picking at the peeling varnish of the battered desk during the afternoon lull when someone walks into the building and your heart stops.

Francis.

Not the original, and not your doppel, either. This one is nearly a dead ringer, except for the nose that’s not quite right, the tip slightly larger, the nostrils a little more flared.

It had never occurred to you that there would still be other versions of the milkman walking around. Where has he been all this time?

“Mmm…hello.” The customary greeting the genuine version had always adopted. He slides an ID card through the slot.

“Entry request?”

“I’m sorry, I forgot. Here it is.” The smile breaks your heart. His smile. Only not.

You stare at the document for long moments. Everything looks correct: the document expiration date present and set for the future; the serial number identical to what you have on file; the logo of your organization in plain sight; the stated reason for the alleged milkman’s absence logical. All of the elements appear as they should, save for that slightly mismatched nose in the photograph and entry request.

“Is there a problem?”

Your eyes lift to meet his. Why are you drawing this out?

“Your appearance,” you answer distractedly.

“Yes? What about it? Doesn’t it match the picture?”

You shake your head, reaching for the alarm button. “I’m sorry.” It’s foolish, being this sentimental. No reason for it. You know the real Francis is gone. You know it’s not the invader you’ve fallen for.

Alarm blossoms on the fake milkman’s features. His hands clasp together. “Wait, please…I’ll leave. Just…I don’t want to die.”

You freeze. This was new. The doppels always reacted with anger when their cover was blown. You’ve never had one beg for their life before.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Was it true? Were there others that were willing to coexist peacefully? Had you incorrectly assumed they all sought the same goal, replacing humans and ruling over the planet, the one remarkable exception being your lover?

Or was this just a new tactic that they’d adopted, evolving, learning, adapting better to human weaknesses?

You had no way of knowing which it was.

“I can’t,” you say. “I’m sorry.” You slam your fist against the alarm switch before the replicant tries to escape, that same soft, pleading look haunting you as the shutter descends. The cleaners arrive and you cover your ears with your hands. You don’t want to listen to it. You can’t.

There are tears in your eyes when the figure in the yellow hazmat suit declares you are now able to return to your job.

***

The replicant milkman—yours, you note with relief—arrives later that afternoon, hastily adjusting the cap on his head, offering a brief glimpse of the perspiration from the heat outdoors lining his brow, his tousled brown locks damp, plastered against his forehead. He’s already smiling before he’s even reached the window, hurriedly thrusting his document and ID card through the slot, and something else, something that sounds metallic against the shallow stainless opening at the bottom of the window.

You reach for it, realizing what it is the second your fingers close over the object: your engagement ring.

The DDD had ceased its surveillance of the security booth, the resources and manpower needed elsewhere, apparently, so their is no longer the camera or the person watching it to worry about. You stare at the solitaire diamond, at the pretty filigree decorating the band on either side of it, and the tears that had been threatening to spill earlier come pouring out of you, a messy amalgamation of guilt and fear and relief releasing in that sudden cascade.

“Sweetheart, you like it that much? I’m so glad, I wasn’t sure…” His voice trails off. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

You shake your head, absently hitting the buzzer to let him in, then hitting its partner to shut the door behind him.

The door to the security booth opens. “Oh, Francis.” You throw your arms around his neck, burrowing along his shirt collar while he rubs soothing circles on your back.

“What is it, love?”

“I’ve had such a terrible day. I almost let in a doppel by mistake this morning, and just a little while ago there was a doppel that looked like Francis.”

“Sweet girl.” His arms tighten around you.

“He begged for his life, Francis. I’ve never seen that before. It was so difficult to call the team. But I had to. I had to do it. I didn’t know if he really meant he wouldn’t harm anyone, or if he was lying. I couldn’t risk him hurting the residents inside.”

“Of course you did, love.”

“How many copies of him are there? Just roaming around the city?”

“I don’t know. But it wasn’t Francis and it wasn’t me. They were just trying to trick you, and you didn’t fall for it. You did the right thing. I know it was difficult for you. I know why, love. I’m here now. I’ve got you.”

You remain in his arms, letting the comfort he’s offering seep into you. He does understand, better than anyone else ever could. After a time you draw back, sniffling. The ring is still clutched tightly in your fist. You relax your palm, spreading your fingers so you can admire the piece of jewelry again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin the moment. It’s lovely, Francis. Perfect.”

The imposter smoothes the last of the tears away and kneels down, gently plucking the ring from your right hand, then reaches for your left one, sliding the diamond band onto your ring finger and kissing the back of your hand.

The sound of a throat being cleared at the window interrupts the moment. You jump, startled. It’s the pilot.

“Dropping off more paperwork, doll?” Steven Rudboys grins, sliding his card and request form towards you.

You blush, aware of your fiancé rising to his feet beside you, frowning. Of course he doesn’t understand the reference, from that day when you’d visited the doppel so early on, when he’d slipped you the invitation to come to the apartment.

“I suppose congratulations are in order,” the man with the Mohawk says, his eyes lingering on the ring. “I always knew you two would end up together. Took you long enough, Mosses,” he adds, shooting the imposter milkman a sharp glance. “Don’t know what Afton and Stone are waiting for. I thought for sure they would’ve set a date by now. Bet you two don’t wait that long to tie the knot.”

Your cheeks are scarlet, your eyes focused on the documents, checking the day’s schedule. On the day’s list. A quick phone call just to confirm what you already know, allowing the man to enter the apartments once you’ve spoken to his father, heaving a sigh of relief when he’s finally gone from sight.

“I don’t like him,” the pretender says, his voice nearly a growl. “I don’t think Francis ever did, either. Too intrusive.” He turns his attention back to you. “Maybe not the best timing for the ring,” he observes ruefully.

“I’m sorry. I love it. Truly. It’s just been a very hectic, stressful day.”

“Don’t apologize. You have every right to be feeling that way. I think…I hope…I can help with that. Come see me as soon as you get off shift, okay? And be careful. If you need me, call.”

You nod, kissing him before he exits the booth and heads towards the elevator. You stretch your hand out, turning it slightly, watching how the light plays over the facets. It was official. You were engaged. You doubted it would take long for the rumor mill of the apartment building to circulate the news. Poor Francis. He’d be bombarded with well wishers and busybodies. Rudboys was probably going to keep at him mercilessly.

The rest of your shift passes by blessedly uneventfully. It is nearly time for your workday to end. Time to return to your lover waiting for you upstairs, the doppel you’re betrothed to.

***

You tap your knuckles on the door of apartment 3-02, greeted by the copy of the living space’s former owner.

He’s shed the troublesome cap, the ebony bow unknotted and draped around his neck, the first pair of buttons on his shirt undone. He smiles at you. “Hello, future Mrs. Mosses.”

“Hi. Can I come in?”

“Do you have proper identification?”

“I seem to have forgotten it.”

He clucks his tongue. “Then I can’t let you in, I’m afraid.”

“Do you accept bribes?”

His lips twitch. “Maybe.” The opening widens. “Come in here.”

You enter and the door closes behind you. “That was easy. I don’t think you’d make a good doorman,” you tease.

“No, but I make up for it elsewhere, don’t I?” He murmurs and you hum in agreement as he slides a hand around your waist, dragging you against him. “It’s torture being away from you. To go from having the weekend together to this long absence all day…” His lips touch yours, traveling to your neck.

“I know. I thought about you all day long.” Your hand rests on his chest. He covers it with his own, toying with the ring on your finger. A little room to move the band, but still secure around the digit. You didn’t wear jewelry often, but the size you’d told him had been the correct one. “I love it, Francis.”

“I’m glad.” Another kiss on your mouth. “I’m hungry for you, love.”

You feel it in his kisses. No longer gentle. Tongue stroking yours roughly. Teeth nipping. You cross the hallway to the bedroom with your fiancé. Unfastening clothing. Yours. His. Impatient to be naked. A button tears from your blouse. “I’ll mend it later,” you say distractedly.

Your back is tucked against his chest, the pair of you standing before the dresser mirror. Your breathing is loud, nearly as loud as his. You would have been mortified to be making so much noise even a month ago. But you have no reason to hide it now. You’re engaged. No one on this floor was going to pretend they didn’t know what goes on with young couples behind closed doors. You’ve heard Afton and Stone going at it before. Not nearly as often or as loud as you and your doppel, though.

You’re about to bend to slide your thigh high nylons off but the copycat halts you, his hand clasping yours above the scalloped lace edge that clings to your leg.

“Leave them on for me? I like them.” He snaps a garter belt playfully, dragging a hand over your lace panties. Something else that was new. You normally wore sensible undergarments beneath your work clothes. But now you had someone to admire what clung to your intimate places. He caresses the space between your legs through the delicate fabric, dragging his hand up to begin massaging your breasts encased in a matching brassiere. “Gorgeous. So beautiful, love.” His mouth worries along your shoulder.

“Are you going to mark me again?”

A pause, his hands and lips freezing. “Do you want me to?”

The low pitch of his voice drags across your core. You’re still frightened of it. But you want it, all the same. You want this creature to claim you. “Yes. Do you?”

The doppelgänger’s lips are by your ear. “Yes, love. But you shouldn’t watch…”

Your eyes meet his in the mirror. “I want to. I want to see you…”

“Sweetheart…” Hesitant. Perhaps more afraid than you are. To be seen. Exposed. To let the monster off the leash, as it were. Allowing the demon within out to play.

“I trust you.”

He moans softly against your hair. “Are you sure? Are you absolutely certain?”

“I love you.”

A whimper. The thing inside anxious to be let out, scratching and gnawing at the bars of its enclosure, that barrier of human flesh that had once belonged to Francis Mosses. Nails raking across your abdomen. Not enough to puncture the skin, still careful, the barest scrape of the unsheathed claws you can just see emerging now. Tearing at the fabric covering your sex, the material fraying, the embroidered threads coming loose. The crown of chocolate hair lifts and you see his eyes: the doppel’s eyes, peering at your from behind Francis’ sleepy dark ones. Red like blood, like the vessels that burst in surrender, like the lining of those shadowed lower lids. The white sclera of the orbs iridescent, shimmery, identical to the outline of the alien creature clutching you, an unsteady shift in the very particles and atoms that comprise him, things unseen, things not meant to be viewed by a mortal eye. The neat ivory teeth no longer tame incisors and molars, but transformed, sharp like the cuspids of a vampire, ravenous, the drool dripping from them onto your skin.

It is still not what he truly is; that monster well concealed, struggling to maintain control in this tenuous bridged state, not quite one or the other, partly human, partly doppel. What remains of your panties are shoved down, his leaking cock pressing against the curve of one cheek of your buttocks. He pushes against you and you grasp the edge of the dresser, the stained and varnished wood supporting you at a slight angle as he guides his erection inside of you.

Your body is already gushing arousal, welcoming him in. You catch sight of your heaving chest in the mirror, your lingerie encased breasts lifting and straining to burst free, much like the replicant thrusting into you.

He says your name, and it is not Francis’ voice at all. This a summons from deep within, heavy, full of gravel, dragging across your flesh like sandpaper. The wavering, mirage-like border of his pulsing frame feels hot, sticky. Your lashes flutter. The bottles of cologne lining the dresser’s surface tumble down. So deep. He’s so deep inside of you. Shoved in to the hilt each time. And still you want him even further. Impossible. But you crave it. That complete violation. Was this what it felt like to be taken over? You’d imagined it to be painful, terrifying. Instead it was sheer bliss. Your eyes link with his through the oval shaped looking glass once more.

“More, please, Francis…”

He jerks you away from the dresser, still impaled on his cock. Here is the pain you’d anticipated, that searing kiss of teeth piercing your shoulder, sucking the skin over the bone, a burst of stars in front of your eyes, fireworks ricocheting within you as you come undone, your insides splashed with something molten, soaked with your lover’s release. Wet skin, wet pussy, drenched prick, sweat and cum and that thin trail of blood seeping from the wound he’s created, laving rapturously at the taste of you, that very human taste in his very inhuman mouth.

His body shudders against yours. Aftershocks, not from orgasm but the shift back to how he appeared before, the glow dissipating, eyes cleared and gentling, the sharp hooks tipping each finger a replica of Francis’ blunt edged nails once more. Only a few red welts betray those nightmare claws’ existence, where he had become a little too lost in the passion, tattooing the soft flesh of your abdomen. The door to the invader’s cage is sealed shut once again. You hold him upright as much as he holds you steady, slipping free from your entrance, the hot spill of seed leaking down your thighs, seeping into the stockings. You can feel the tremors still spasming, your own nerves quivering with the remnants of pleasure, echoing against you as your lover’s body shares the same sensation. The panting breaths grow quieter. The sound of the Rudboys’ television next door disturbs the stillness. You’d completely missed the audio cue of the curfew horn.

“Sweet girl.” It’s all he can seem to manage, this whispered into your hair. It’s the milkman’s voice again, but it sounds raw, raspy. The vocal chords had been strained, never meant to produce the sounds they had earlier.

You rest your hand on the one clutching your abdomen, the glint of your engagement ring winking, a stubborn sparkle in the glow of the lamp, struggling against the growing darkness in the room as the day’s natural light fails beyond the curtained window.

***

The blackberry jam, pulled from the refrigerator several hours later, is perfect.

Perhaps one of the best batches you’ve ever tasted. You’ve snuck a sample from the unsealed mason jar, unable to wait. You’re already imagining how good that flavor will be when it’s smoothed over the biscuits you’re making with your doppelgänger, his fingers kneading the dough mixture you’ve just created. There is a stray bit of flour dusting his nose where he’d absently stroked an itch along the bridge and you wipe it clear, the touch becoming a lingering caress. He pauses, fingers still dug into the dough, looking at you with that same kind of wonder as he had earlier, after the incident in the bedroom.

As if he cannot believe what you’d asked for, accepted so willingly, eagerly; of the control over his true form he’d been able to maintain, keeping you safe.

Pats of butter melt quickly on the sliced biscuits pulled from the oven. You’re sweating. You need a shower after this for certain. You slather on a generous layer of the sweet fruit spread, offering a bite to your fiancé. He chews, nodding approvingly. There is a stray bit of jam on the corner of his mouth. You cannot resist lapping at it. Licking his mouth open. Tasting the sweetness there. Marveling at how quickly the desire is rekindled. Perhaps you would never be sated. Always this ache, this gnawing want in your center.

Drenched in the shower together. Back out again. Night sounds through the open window. The measured footsteps of a patrol. Soft chatter. A dog barking. You miss your farmhouse. The crickets and the scent of lilac blossoms and your lover in your bed, on cotton sheets that smell like the outdoors, hung on the line to dry in the clear air.

“Francis,” you murmur, your mouth tracing the outline of the crest of one hip, you hand curled around the other. Tasting the soap on his skin, the slight masculine musk as you wander along his groin, swiping your tongue across his cock.

Your shoulder throbs, pulsing in time with the neediness within. You want it again already. Not just the sex, but the other. A strange kind of addiction developing.

Your pussy aches to be filled again. You suck his erection and moan, hastily tucking your hair out of the way. Ravenous. An animalistic slobber. Lips loose. Shoving down as far as you can tolerate. Past it. Insistent, fucking your throat with his dick.

A little gasp of surprise from the doppel. “Easy, love. Don’t waste it. Want to…”

You release his spit soaked member, planting wet kisses back up his stomach, his chest. Crawling over his body until you reach his mouth. “What do you want, Francis?” Your voice a whisper, matching his.

“Oh love, you know what I want.” This huffed beside your cheek. You’re teasing kisses along his jaw, nipping at an ear lobe.

“Tell me. Tell me how you want to fill me up. With your cock. With your cum. Breed me, make a baby…”

You don’t know where the words come from. Another gasp. A growl. You want to impale yourself on him but it’s not the ideal position for getting pregnant. You allow him to shift, moving your body with his, pinning you beneath him.

“Is that what you want, sweet girl?” His hands press into the pillow beneath your head. There are a proper quartet of them now, piled plush cushions for you and your alien lover.

“Yes. Please, Francis…”

His knee parts your legs. Pressure. He’s inside you.

Your head lifts off the pillow and he captures your lips, pressing you back down. Working inside of you slow and steady, fucking you back open.

“There you go, love.” His mouth gentle on yours.

“I need…”

“What? What do you need?”

Your shoulder is on fire. “I want you to mark me again.”

“No, love. It’s too soon for that.” You feel him shake his head, the faint stir of air beside your cheek with the motion.

“It felt so good.”

“I know.”

“Put the light on, then? Let me see you. Let me see what’s inside…”

“No.” His voice loud now, his hips still against yours. “No, it’s too risky.”

“You can control it. I know you can. I trust you.”

“You don’t understand.”

“So explain it to me.”

“Sweetheart, I can’t. Not now.”

“Why not?”

“Because…”

“Because why?”

“Because I’m afraid,” he confesses against your neck. “You’ve no idea the strain. The desire to tear free. It would destroy Francis’ body. The urge to devour you…” He kisses your throat softly. “Let me love you like the man I appear to be.”

“I love you. You, what’s inside.” You touch his cheek.

“I know, love. And the way that makes me feel is indescribable. I don’t need to be out of this body to experience it. I adore you, sweet girl. Let me show you how much. Like this,” he says, his hips lifting and pressing, guiding his cock back into your hollow.

Your pelvis arches to receive him. It scares you how much you want him. Your body shakes with the intensity of that desire. Craving that violence, that feeling of teetering on the brink of destruction. His, yours. The human mouth on your shoulder. Sucking. Kneading with teeth that aren’t nearly sharp enough. But it stirs whatever he’s injected you with. A venom, a toxin, not poisonous, not lethal, but a chemical that you need more of. Bringing you closer to what you’re so desperate for. It doesn’t take you long to climax, the doppel’s own release close behind. He lifts your hips and legs, propping them against his chest, keeping his seed deep inside you, stroking along your stomach.

Willing there to be a spark of life there, the way all life has begun, according to the words in the holy book still sitting on the nightstand, a burst of light in the darkness.

***

Another day at the DDD security window.

The doppelgängers have been clumsy so far. Woefully inept at replication. You didn’t need specialized training to recognize the imposter for the shoemaker with a mustache as a fake, a single eye in the center of his forehead making Albertsky Peachman look like a cyclops. The clone of the mother of the student living on the second floor had correctly replicated the placement of the blue and green irises, but the phony Nacha Mikaelys’ jaw was strangely formed, the flesh pulpy and uneven, making it appear like oatmeal.

The best part of your workday arrives on schedule, slipping a new gift into the slot this time. “Tickets to the theater for this Sunday. I know it’s not the movie you mentioned, but…”

You grin. You can’t even remember the last time you’d gone to see a movie. And now you’d be seeing it with your fiancé. “Casablanca! Oh, it’s wonderful. I have something for you, too.” You exchange an open envelope with the doppelgänger.

He slides the contents free, unfolding the letter and scanning it quickly, a smile lighting his features. “They’ve invited us to see them.”

You nod, still beaming, watching the invader tuck the letter from your parents back into the envelope. “We’ll visit the following weekend.”

“I look forward to it. Still nervous, but looking forward to it. How was your day, love?”

“It went well. Yours?”

“Better now.” Another smile. “I’ve got another surprise, too. Left it in the truck because I was anxious to see you. I’m making dinner tonight. Well we’re probably making dinner. I’m not optimistic about Francis’ cooking skills,” he adds, lowering his voice.

You couldn’t blame him for doubting it. The man’s pantry and refrigerator had been nearly empty, and you had the feeling it wasn’t just because he’d been overdue for a trip to get groceries.

Thinking of the solitary, simple life of the milkman rinses the joy from your features. No real family to speak of, either, according to the doppelgänger, save for a cousin that he’d had little to no contact with. He really had been alone in the world. Isolated. You could have done something about that. You should have. But it was too late now. And you had your doppelgänger instead. The being your heart was so full for.

“Love?” The replicant sees the change in your expression, frowning now.

“I’m okay. Yes, I’ll help you cook. It sounds fun.” You’re not relishing the thought of working over a hot stove in that stuffy third floor living space, longing for the upcoming change in the weather. But you like the idea of working beside your partner. Preparing a meal. And what would come after.

The bite on your shoulder throbs, reminding you.

i'm a firm believer that simon never wears his mask when he returns from deployment. his 'ghost' persona is something he leaves at work, you barely even know what the masks look like. whenever he gets home, he'll throw them in the wash and pack them back up.

you never ask about his missions, not that he'd tell you much anyways. the less you know - the better, in his mind. simon isn't secretive with you, he just prefers not to talk about it. though your curiosity gets the best of you sometimes, taking a peek inside of the duffle bag he keeps at the back of the closet. it's filled with work clothes, a copy of his file - no photo of course, and 4 different balaclavas/masks.

he's confused when you're shocked that his team barely knows what he looks like, only having seen him uncovered a few times throughout the years. you have everything about his face memorized. the wrinkles around his eyes when he smiles, the way the right corner of his mouth twitches while holding back a laugh, you'd probably argue that you know him better than yourself.

simon isn't insecure about his looks, considering himself average, and going out with a mask on would draw unwanted attention. though he still keeps his hood up and head down, blocking his face from view, forgetting to take it off while inside. he just gives off a mysterious vibe unintentionally.

you've only ever seen him masked a few times, when he's home late and extremely tired. his gear is heavy on his body as he forces himself up the stairs, squeezing the railing for more stability, scared his sore legs might give out. too tired to fetch his key, he knocks on the door and waits for you to open it, resting against the wall. opening the door exposes simon in full gear, his brown eyes red and heavy, struggling to keep them open.

he walks with a limp as you help lead him to the bedroom, laying him down on the bed to rest.

"how bad is it?"

"pretty fuckin' bad," he sighs, pulling off his mask, fabric marks litter his skin from wearing it so long. you untie his boots, pulling them from his feet and setting them to the side. he works on undoing his holsters, releasing their grip from his thighs feels refreshing. that night you wash him as he drifts in and out of sleep in the tub. his pale skin is covered in bruises and cuts, a few needing to be dressed and treated. simon completely melts into your touch, leaning into you as you care for him, softly washing the dirt from his skin.

there's no 'ghost' when he's with you. he's just simon, your simon.