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soft-thrills · 4 months

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XF Fic: Mean

Rating: Smut. Smut smut smut.

Summary: “I think I’d also like it once in a while if you were a little… mean,” Scully says.

Content warnings: dirty talk, name-calling, toeing the edge of degradation, but all in good kinky fun

Smut after the cut. Hope your holidays are happy, friends! Ubeta’ed. I intended to sit down and write something with some redeeming value to society but alas, I could not get this out of my mind, so instead: shameless smut.

They’d had a conversation about a month ago in which he’d asked her if there was anything she wanted that he wasn’t doing.

“I want you to keep your travel receipts in chronological order,” she’d wryly replied.

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it,” he’d said, and the hint of an edge in his voice got right to the core of the thing that she wanted that he wasn’t doing.

And so she’d told him, after a half glass of wine too many.

“Well, I like it when you’re a little rough, which I think you’ve kind of figured out. But I think I’d also like it once in a while if you were a little… mean.”

He grinned. “Mean how?”

“I don’t know, just… you know, don’t hurt my feelings, but maybe you could tease, or kind of, talk dirtier. Jesus, this is so embarrassing, forget I ever mentioned it, ok?”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he said. “Although I get the sense that maybe that’s what you’re after.”

His ability to see right through her was kind of embarrassing in and of itself, and she knew she was blushing.

They’d had sex then — and he hadn’t been mean, not at all. Instead he’d devoured her, praising her for sharing something she felt shy about, telling her there was nothing she could ask for that would make him think less of her or upset him — not him, a man who’d spent years frequenting porno theaters and calling phone sex lines.

For weeks, the conversation lurked in the back of her mind. She’d almost convinced herself he’d forgotten, except Fox Mulder is not a man who forgets these kinds of things.

And so she finds herself beneath him as he holds both her slender wrists in one of his big hands, pinned above her head. He looms large over her.

“I didn’t forget our conversation last month, you know,” he says, taking her left nipple between his fingers and pinching until she gasps. “You remember it, don’t you?”

She nods, at a loss for words.

“Good. If you don’t like anything I do or say, Scully, all you have to do is tell me, and I’ll stop, okay?”

“Yeah,” she breathes. “Yeah, okay. I understand.”

“Good girl,” he praises her. “Although I think we both know that’s probably not what you want me to call you. I think you want to be a bad girl.”

She arches her pelvis up toward him, silently asking him to touch her there, to slide inside her.

“Already getting to you, huh? You weren’t kidding, Scully. I haven’t even touched your pussy yet and look how desperate you are.”

Mean.

“Oh my god, Mulder, please,” she whimpers. “Please touch me.”

He smirks at her. “All right, but only so I can judge how much my words are getting to you.”

His fingers trail down her body and he dips his index finger between her lips, dragging back and forth a moment before pushing inside her. She arches up into his touch and spreads her legs wider, as best she can beneath him.

“You like spreading your legs for me, don’t you?”

She squeezes her eyes shut for a moment. She can’t believe he’s talking to her like this, she can’t believe she asked him to. But she’s more turned on than she’s ever been in her life.

“I can feel how much you like it, Scully. You’re so wet for me. Such a dirty girl.”

Suddenly, his finger is gone from her pussy, and a second later, she feels his wet fingers grip her chin.

“Open your eyes and look at me when I talk to you, Scully.”

Her eyes fly open. There’s something about him talking to her like this while still using her last name that makes it feel even dirtier, which she suspects he realizes.

He kisses her, deeply, a reward, a reassurance. He can talk to her like this and still love her. And he can certainly still want her — she can feel his erection against her belly.

“Please, fuck me,” she says. “I want you.”

That grin again. “I know you do. But I’m not done playing around with you. That’s what I’m going to do: play with you like the toy that you are.”

His fingers find her pussy again, and then her clit, a few quick circles. She feels like she could shatter at any moment.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt you this wet, baby. I’m so glad you told me how to treat you. Now I know what you need. And I’m having a lot of fun putting you in your proper place.”

He takes his fingers away from her clit.

“No,” she moans, screwing her eyes closed again. “Don’t stop.”

His wet fingers on her face again but this time, a soft tap on her cheek, the barest suggestion of a slap, sending her eyes back open in shock.

He laughs a little. “I told you to keep your eyes open. If I have to tell you again I’m not going to let you come.”

Mean. She whimpers and nods. Unable to close her eyes, she instead gives voice to the terrible, wonderful feelings warring inside her - the hint of humiliation and the arousal fueling one another.

“Why do I like it so much when you treat me like this?” she asks.

Straddling her, he brings his hands to her breasts and pinches each nipple. He looks bemused, like she is a problem to be solved, and then looks back down at her tits.

“Well, I could tell you it’s because kinky sex is subversive, a way to play with the gender roles we push back against in everyday life. I could tell you lots of people like things in bed they wouldn’t like outside it and there’s nothing wrong with that. I could tell you it’s because you trust me and know that I love you and respect you and we’re just playing around.”

His hands move to her sides, and he drops down to his elbows, briefly kissing down her sternum between her breasts.

Then he looks up at her face, making eye contact.

“But we both know that’s not why you like it,” he says. “You like it because you’re a dirty little slut.”

And then suddenly, his cock is pushing inside her, and his finger is on her clit, and she comes harder than she ever has in her life.

“Well that didn’t take much,” he teases her, and it only extends her pleasure. “So easy.”

His cockiness aside, it doesn’t take much for him to come, either — she’s still thrashing around with the aftershocks when he comes inside her after a few more hard strokes, moaning into the crook of her neck.

When she comes to her senses, he’s rolled off of her and is looking at her with the sweetest smile.

“Wow,” she says, still catching her breath, blushing as she thinks about what he said to her.

“Good wow? Or you never want to talk to me again wow?” he asks.

“Good wow. Thank you for giving that to me. I wouldn’t have been able to let go like that without anyone else,” she says, rolling over and curling into him.

He cuddles her protectively, hands stroking up and down her back, through her hair, wherever he can reach with comforting little touches.

“You did so well,” he says, and while she doesn’t really feel like she did anything, the praise warms her. “But sometimes things like that can hit you after you come down from endorphin rush. If it starts to feel bad, promise me you’ll let me know.”

“I will,” she says.

They lounge a while and it does, indeed, start nagging at her a little.

“You’ll still be able to look me in the eye at work after that, right? It won’t change —”

“Scully, nothing could ever change how I feel about you. I love you more than anything. I respect you more than anyone. I’m honored you’d share your desires with me and I’d never betray that.”

“I know,” she sighs. “I guess it’s just good to hear it.”

It occurs to her he hasn’t said anything about whether he enjoyed himself.

“Did you like it?” she asks gently. “Because I don’t want to ask anything of you that you don’t —”

“You couldn’t tell if I liked it?” he jokes. “It was so hot, Scully. Seeing you melt like that.”

She smiles, and then feels his hot breath on her ear.

“I’ll treat you like a dirty slut anytime you like,” he promises.

She laughs. “Thank you,” she says, and she means it.

#xfiles fic #xf fic #xfiles fanfic #msr #xf fanfic #msr smut

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gillians-leoni · 2 years

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new strip club au chapter <3

sorry for the late update 🥺

@today-in-fic

#the x files #dana scully #fox mulder #my fic #msr #the x files fanfic #msr fanfic #msr au #msr smut #msr fic #mama dana scully #dana scully/fox mulder #fox mulder/dana scully #scully x mulder #mulder x scully #emily sim

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do-you-think-im-spoopy · 2 years

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How did he know she would like it like this? She managed the thought between stifled gasps, his hand loosely covering her mouth to muffle the sound. The other drew perfectly maddening strokes between her legs, shoved down the front of her work slacks. Her forehead pressed against the office door, the cool wood a relief from the scorch of her skin.

Must be the behavioral psychologist in him. The bastard. He should get out of her head. The hand though. The hand could stay right where it was. She shuddered as a preliminary wave of pleasure tingled through her stomach and spine. Her tongue found its way between his fingers on her lips. He rewarded her with a soft grunt and a firm thrust of his dick against her ass. It took everything in her to keep from swooning.

His elegant fingers picked up their pace, as did her heart. She made an effort to struggle against him, which was just an obvious attempt to feel his dick on her again but he saw right through it and pushed her gently but more firmly against the door to the office. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against her ear, placing a soft kiss before whispering sternly, "Let go."

Her blood surged and her head spun at the command. She wanted to at least try to fight it but also no she didn't. She really didn't. He pulled her flat against his hard body with his forearm and plunged two fingers deep inside of her. She swore against his hand and he chuckled darkly, his dick pulsing against her. The thought that he was going as insane as she was brought her right to the edge. The second his fingers returned she was a goner. Her body tensed and she sucked in a breath.

"There we go," she could hear the smile in his voice and it infuriated her and simultaneously fueled her into pleasures previously unknown. She panted and moaned futilely into his palm as warmth spread all over her body, every point where his body touched hers felt like livewire.

When she finally began to come back down, she managed to push off the door and button her pants. Mulder sucked his fingers into his mouth and she very nearly came again from the sight. The cocky grin on his face was one she'd seen many times before but never in this situation. All she wanted was to wipe it off.

"See you tomorrow, Scully," he said through that damn grin.

"See you tomorrow, Mulder," she replied cooly, grabbing her purse and briefcase from his desk and walking briskly toward the door, casually unlocking it and slipping out.

What he couldn't see was the sly smile on her own face. Tomorrow was another day and she'd be ready to return the "favor".

#txf #msr #dana scully #fox mulder #the x files #msr smut #xfiles smut #smut fic #xfiles fic

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spookysexy · 2 years

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Now on FanFiction.Net & Wattapad

Synopsis: It takes place the First night of All Things. She wakes up in the middle of the night, still at his place. Through the course of 5 Chapters. It tells you of the intense, emotional night of building passion, between Mulder and Scully!

Genre: MSR It’s pressure building/romcom/yes it gets explicit as it goes!

Rating: M

Please check it out, and let me know what you think! It’s my Second fanfic that I’ve written, and the first one with chapters.

My QR code to my fanFiction.Net is below!

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willsdreamgirl · 5 months

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amazon standing lamp ⋆｡˚ — wilbur soot x reader

wilbur soot x fem!reader

will has everything he could ever want, then why does he still feel so empty?

18+ | minors please dni! angst and smut

cw: mentions of sex, different sex positions, descriptions of sex, angst, mentions of anxiety, wilbur is NOT okay and neither is the author

word count: 600+

a/n: finally had the motivation to write after a HOT MINUTE. was inspired by wilbur’s new album, mammalian sighing reflex. angst, just BIG ANGST.

“midday missionary, midnight loathing, midnight cowgirl, morning smoking”

your fingers clutch the cream coloured sheets under you, and you spread your legs wide, as wilbur thrusts into you. the sound of skin slapping fills your shared bedroom, your moans fill his ears. “mm, will, just like that…” you look up at him, and he looks at you like he sees right through you. you search his face, his brows furrowing in deep thought rather than pleasure. you manage to string together a sentence between his methodical, almost calculated movements. “hey will… you okay?” he snaps back to reality, looks down at your body and up at you, with a small smile on his face. yet, his eyes look like bottomless voids. you don’t say anything, and neither does he. he keeps going until you orgasm, and pulls out. you sit up, not caring about the post-sex exhaustion starting to set in your bones. “will… you didn’t finish? you okay?” he looks down at the floor. in that moment, he looks so damn vulnerable, so small, all bare. he sighs and looks at you from across the from as he’s putting his boxers back on. “yeah, yeah. i’m good. just not feeling it right now…” something just wasn’t right. you bit your lip, and smiled shyly, walking across the room. you knelt down in front of him, hands running across the waistband of his boxers. “i can help with that…” he looks and you with tired eyes and pushes your hand away gently. “look y/n, not right now, okay?” he walks away, leaving you on the floor, slight carpet burn making the skin on your knees sting.

you decide to leave him alone for a while, watching his disappear behind the door of his home office. you only see him around 9:00 pm, when he comes out to grab a plate of dinner you’d called him to eat an hour ago. you get up from your chair at the table. “i can warm that up for you, love!” you offer. he looks down at his plate, before sighing. “it’s fine.” you watch him walk away from you, yet again.

you go out for a walk to clear your head. he doesn’t ask where you’re going. you return at midnight, the apartment so quiet as if it were devoid of all life. you make your way to your bedroom. wilbur’s sitting on the bed, legs crossed, fiddling with a half burnt joint between his fingers. he sighs as he senses your presence. he puts out the joint on the wood of the nightstand, and motions for you to sit on his lap. you straddle his lap, your cold thighs resting against his warm ones. he pulls you in by your jaw, and kisses you like a man starved, teeth before tongue. he tastes like weed, and if you didn’t love the idea of it, you’d almost be disgusted.

time passes and somehow, you two end up tangled in each other’s arms. you smile into his neck. he looks at you blankly, before turning his head to the side, looking at the amazon standing lamp sitting on the nightstand, as you ride him. you moan wantonly, throwing your head back, elated at finally having gotten your boy back. meanwhile, a tear falls out of the corner of wilbur’s eye. but he plays along, he could never hurt the best thing to ever happen to him. he’s memorized every detail on the amazon standing lamp, the only constant in his life.

he has everything he could ever ask for, then why does he feel so empty?

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asifyoudidntknow · 24 days

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All Time Favs

I began reading fanfic in my teens during the original run of the show. There were lonnng breaks from it, but coming back to the fandom in 2017 reignited my interest. I now keep a spreadsheet as well as a "to read" list. I already have almost 600 logged (not including 5 years), so I wanted to share my top favorites. Divided into my 4 favorite genres (AU, casefic, angst + romance, and smut + romance) and in no particular order...

*Alternate Universe*

I used to wonder why someone would choose to read AU. Then I read one of these and was completely blown away.

Katherine of Ireland by Jenna Tooms (gossamer)

Katherine, princess of Ireland is married to Walter, king of Angora. When Walter is killed during battle, Katherine is taken by the enemy, FitzJames. William is FitzJames right hand. When FitzJames orders her to be beaten (even after discovering her pregnancy) William devises a plan to save her, heal her and get her back to Ireland. Will William always be seen as the enemy or will Katherine come to see him for who he truly is?

By the dim and flaring lamps by @sunflowerseedsandscience (ao3)

Civil war AU’s are my jam and this was one of the first ones I read. When Mulder discovers (disguised boy) Scully bathing in a waterfall by darkness and realizes what he is dealing with will remain etched in my brain forever.

In darkness by DKSculder (ao3)

What if Scully was married to Daniel? What if Daniel was a serial killer? What if Mulder was a VCU agent still? This is an unfinished work, but the idea is unlike any other I’ve come across.

Blinded by the white light by DashaK (ao3)

Need I say more? When Mulder and Scully find each other after colonization, will they remember each other and will they act on it?

The second side of light by @scapegrace74-blog (ao3)

Oregon Trail. Mulder is leading scully and Melissa across the trail when Melissa dies. They end up getting very close to one another on the journey.

Paracelsus by profuckslove (ao3)

Another amazing civil war AU. When Mulder goes looking for his lost son and comes across a pregnant scully what will happen to them?

Hiareth by profuckslove (gossamer)

Wales 1215. Scully escapes the king by marrying Mulder, the prince of wales. Marriage leads to love and fighting off dangerous men.

Paracosm by @softnow (ao3)

This is an unfinished work. College AU. Mulder has a crush on the library girl, will she return his advances?

A companion unobtrusive by @slippinmickeys (ao3)

A college AU where scully is looking for a roommate and Mulder is looking for a room. Melissa introduces them and the rest is history.

Qui Si by Trixie (gossamer)

After accepting an offer from a gypsy to go back to a life with Samantha in it, Mulder, a child psychologist, helps Scully, a PhD, get over her past.

You he did not fail by extraordinarily_ordinary (ao3)

Scully abruptly leaves TXF after surviving cancer and moves to LA to start anew. She is dating when Mulder is assigned as a profiler to a case she is working and they have to deal with things left undealt with.

Five years and a lifetime by @monikafilefan (ao3)

Mulder is a Peds psychiatrist. Scully is a Peds neurologist. They meet at a conference and have a one night stand. What happens when they come to work together 5 years later and Scully is a single mom?

Amish country by lolabeegood (gossamer)

Mulder and Scully go undercover in Amish country trying to catch a serial rapist while navigating very traditional values and roles.

You and me by lolabeegood (gossamer)

Mulder leaves his wealthy parents to serve under Scully’s father in the military. In order for her to stay safe, fed, and clothed she needs to marry.

The mountain man by aka Jake (gossamer)

Scully is sent from nyc (where she was becoming a doctor) to Montana at her father’s wishes. He wants her to marry a lieutenant under his command and not practice medicine, but she becomes intrigued with a local mountain man.

The countess/the earl by @slippinmickeys (ao3)

When scully is to be married to an old duke in order to save her family from financial ruin, a strange, alluring earl steps in to save her.

*Case*

There is nothing quite like a casefic. It's classic x-files and I am here for it. Writers in this fandom are so talented with their abilities to create a fic that rivals/trumps actual episodes.

Perchitor by @aloysiavirgata (ao3)

A little girl goes missing in the mountains with the superstition of Jenny Greenteeth to blame. Mulder and Scully investigate while navigating a new physical relationship.

Omens by @lepus-arcticus (ao3)

I read this one as a WIP and was anxiously checking for an update every night. There were several lines in this fic that made me gasp. Cancer arc angst. Give me it alllll.

XII by fragilevixen (ao3)

A killer that romanticizes every victim. His next target? Guess who. *coughSCULLYcough*

Hearts desire by malibusunset (ao3)

While in a small town scully runs into an old BF and starts wondering why she doesn’t prioritize her dating. She decides to go for it. The author makes me like Scully’s old flame. That says something. When the MSR convo finally does come, I thought I’d die from the slow burn.

Resurgam by opheila_interrupted (ao3)

One of the most xfiles like cases I have ever read. Remains unsolved at the end and has our agents investigating ghosts near Mulder’s hometown while dealing with their own (Emily & Teena).

Universal invariants/laws of motion by @syntax6

Scully is engaged to Ethan throughout the first season while her and Mulder’s relationship is deepening and then consummated right before she is abducted. How do two guys in love handle Scully’s abduction and what happens when she is returned?

All the way home/head over heels by @syntax6

Mulder is pulled into a past unsolved VCU case of a killer with a shoe fetish while navigating a new physical relationship with scully. When scully is targeted, Mulder has to gamble with his personal feelings while working to find the killer.

Queens gambit by Suzanne Schramm (gossamer)

Under Kersh, Mulder and Scully are assigned to a VCU case Mulder worked in Utah in 89’. The killer was put to death and then revenge began. Local mines and children involved.

*angst + romance*

This is my crux. Angst in any way, shape, or form. Add in some slow burn/ust and finally the rst *chefs kiss* particularly fond of Ethan fics and cancer arc.

Contact high by penumbra (gossamer)

Still feeling the residual effects of the spores post field trip, our agents try out Mulder’s new waterbed.

Early on by @sunflowerseedsandscience (ao3)

10 vignettes set during season 1. Our baby agents are becoming close, but Ethan is still around. How does scully navigate her relationship with Ethan while working with Mulder?

Center Mass by @kateyes224 (ao3)

Another Ethan fic set in season 1. Mulder and Scully make an effort to get to know one another… in more ways than one. And when Mulder gets aroused at Scully’s marksmanship it’s all over for me.

One blue line by sarie_fairy (ao3)

IVF arc. Scully is defeated by a negative pregnancy test. When Mulder tries to comfort her, she suggests having sex. I just remember wondering if I was reading or actually doing the act myself considering how detailed it was.

Salt by anjou (gossamer)

I remember reading this and being like WTF is happening to only have it all make sense at the end leaving me speechless.

Triptych by @iconicscullyoutfits (ao3)

My favorite FTF, post bee, how the f*ck did they get out of anarctica fic.

Snowbound by malibusunset (gossamer)

After missing their flight and being snowed in their rental on the side of the road, discussions lead to their relationship. Once they’re recused they are put up in an inn with 1 room. Dun, dun, dunnnn.

The ache by @storybycorey (ao3)

1999 Mulder has a visit with 2015 Mulder to urge him to get help with his depression and not lose scully.

Love bites by living_underground (ao3)

A review of vampirism cases throughout the years. Hickeys from Ed. Love bites from Mulder.

Goshen by bonetree (ao3)

Mulder and Scully are in a car accident where their car can’t be seen. Major injuries lead to near death experiences and visions of Emily.

All that our senses can perceive by wonderland (ao3)

Mulder’s POV looking over Scully’s transformation from girl to woman and how all of his senses perceive her.

Caught in the Act I by parrotfish (gossamer)

Although the whole series is amazing, the first part is my favorite. I love when scully lays into the review panel about being sexist.

The things she carries by @edierone (ao3)

One of my favorite cancer arc fics. When Mulder confronts Scully 3 years later on the porch I literally stopped breathing.

Red valerian series by dashakay (ao3)

Scully looks to skinner for comfort during a grueling case, starting a 6 month affair. Will scully ever love him or will the buried truth prevail?

Sex and Loathing by malibusunset (ao3)

Scully takes a drunk Mulder home after Roche. He makes a move and they have terrible sex. After 2 years of poking at each other they face things head on after Mulder almost dies in PBV.

Snakebitten by @onpaperfirst (ao3)

Set throughout season 5. My favorite season. Say no more.

Five years and one night by Shalimar (gossamer)

When Scully transfers to LA and Mulder finds more babies like Emily, can they work together again to get to the bottom of this conspiracy?

The letter by Shalimar (gossamer)

Post TFWID, scully goes searching for more clues to her and Mulder’s past lives when she comes across a letter in a local Apison museum she sent to Mulder.

*smut + romance*

It's hard to have just smut when it comes to MSR, am I right? these two idiots are so in love that my smut category must also be romantic.

Undercover swing by 2momsmakearight (ao3)

What if Mulder and Scully go undercover as a married couple interested in swinging? Can they both keep their jealously in check?

Be kind, rewind by OnlyTheInevitable (ao3)

To help catch a suspect, skinner requests our agents watch porn together. While watching, conversation leads to critiques about the performance and comments about personal preferences.

Girl 77 by mojo

A stripper is found dead with Mulder’s card on her. She looks exactly like Scully. Scully notices and confronts Mulder about it.

Dropped call series by @phillippadgettwrites (ao3)

Phone sex, but make it “not them”

December 31, 1984 by @phillippadgettwrites (ao3)

When Mulder saves an unimpressed scully from some jerk on NYE, they end up at her apartment having a one night stand.

Damsels by @sisterspooky1013 (ao3)

Scully is sent undercover as a stripper to find a missing woman. Mulder is kept in the dark regarding her case, but pieces together where she is and what she’s doing and sets out to find her.

The Shirt by Audrey Roget (gossamer)

Skinner reconciles with Sharon leading to a vow renewal celebration. Skinner asks mulder and Scully to stand with him as his best agents. After slow dancing together, mulder bolts out of the celebration before scully catches the bridal bouquet and he crosses a line. When they end up in an accident while driving in a storm, things come to a head in an Elvis inspired motel suite out in the middle of nowhere PA.

#txf fanfic #msr fanfic #fic recs #fic rec list #fanfic recs #au #case fic #angst #romance #smut #msr

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postmodernbeliever · 1 month

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stalker - fox mulder x female reader

at the fbi, your job is to watch who you're asked to. but on your own time, you watch fox mulder... and little do you know, he's watching you, too.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

my ao3 | word count: 3,518

content tags: sneaking around, embarrassment, stalking, longing, fox mulder is watching you, you are watching fox mulder, fox is a freak like you, fox likes weirdos, obsessive behavior, suggestive themes, you and fox just kinda eyefuck and nothing happens but god should it, cross-posted on ao3

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°

they all call him spooky mulder. what a nickname, spooky- even in its mainstream use, it has not lost its effect. there was always something off about him, something unsettling, which piqued your interest. you liked it so much that you paid special attention. it was your nature to keep tabs; you watched him come and go from his basement office, all the while pretending to be down in the gutter of the j. edgar hoover building for any other suspicious reason than taking mental notes on him.

sure, it may sound creepy, but this is your job- this is why the fbi has you on the payroll. you’re what they call “the eyes and ears”, and in a sense, you don’t really have a job. your cover is to work in the filing department, faceless and nameless, and keep things organized as they go off to different sectors. you are the one sending weapons to evidence (or elsewhere) and case files to agents (or not) at the heart of the organization, where you just become the signing-off signature. but that office, where you blend in, is how they use you best. orders directly from the top tell you who to watch and when to come forward with information. but they never assigned you to special agent fox mulder. as was his infamous passion project dubbed the X files, this was your unassigned interest within the bureau- he was your freakish fixation.

you followed his case files as they came to inconclusive endings. you noticed when his hair grew too long. you knew he liked the coffee from the break room by a.d. skinner’s office, but he liked the creamer they kept on the first floor, so he traveled cross-complex to make the cup taste just right. you’d read every report and drowned in his philosophical, metaphysical droning, admiring the prose so overdosed on sleep deprivation and the ramblings of a transcending mind. it was like twisted poetry, how he explained what each case had imparted upon him. the way he viewed sociology, the way he viewed intervention both divine and damned, the manner in which he proposed the forces at play work and how they are ever-changing and insurmountable… god, he really is a genius. everyone may think he’s insane, or that his work is a waste of valuable resources, but fox mulder’s mind was one to be entertained, one to be challenged. to let his power go misrepresented or his purpose go any less than unabated would be a crime (if anyone asked you.)

see, this is why it could be considered weird. you revered him like a deity, unapologetically idolatrous of his brainpower- and from a more internal, girlish yearning, you loved his face. god, that face. you had examined his personal files many times in the safety of your office, tracing invisible lines over the photographs of him; caressing the scrapes and bruises documented from altercations with suspects, drooling over his academy polaroids stashed away from old physical exams. he still looked as young and charming as he did in his old school photos. a young oxford man, beautiful, traumatized, in need of proof. his work demanded his darkest instincts and most disgusting thoughts, and you loved him for it, or at least the idea of what it turned him into. and as far as word travels, fox mulder bars no personality incontinuities. after all the stories of the blood he’s tasted at crime scenes and the horrific pictures of murders and monsters plastered on the walls of his murky office, he was more than just spooky. he was freakish, and uncomfortable, and alluring.

now, fox is no idiot. in fact, to even think your interest was going unnoticed was a major misjudgment of his perceptive abilities; the man is the best analyst in the crime division, for god’s sake. he's never missed a clue. yet somehow, in the midst of your innocent stalking, you’d imagined he never saw you standing in his basement hallway, or mingling in the first-floor break room by the irish cream. naivety never crossed into your work, but it clouded your visions when it came to him. he’d seen you every time, shifty eyes fidgeting with blatant secrecy. when the man who didn’t believe in random events saw you more than once, he began following your lead.

fox mulder kept copies of your personal files on his desk and sifted through them often, trying to get any information on you to substantiate why you paid so much attention to him. aside from his widespread suspicion, he also had a sense for intent, and he felt you were of no harm. even lurking in the shadows, there was a comfort to your presence. that might be his creepy personality being used to unsettling beings, but he didn’t mind. he liked catching you looking. he liked the way your suit jacket never matched your pants, but always somehow coordinated even in clashing patterns. he liked how your hair curled like french fries at the bottom, wide and loose. he liked how your manicured nails were always dark and sharp, and blatantly against bureau policy. fox knew you were as new to the fbi as he, so not new at all, but a child to seasoned agents; he learned of your ridiculous retention of information, and that you read twice the clocked words per minute of the average american. he knew of your graduation from yale and your speedy completion of the academy, as well as your elevated skill for firearms, which immunized you from a majority of field training. he knows about your secret connection, yet not who it’s with, and that it’s ushered you into a disguised deep-level position. in less legal ways of determining, the agent discovered you were the president of your high school’s history club, as well as the chief editor of the newsletter, and your family had a summer cabin on the oregon coast. you were smart, valuable, integral, even- and your talents were being wasted under cover of the monotonous filing department. he knew more than you realized. but even with his disturbing understanding of you, fox couldn’t figure out why it was him you watched- you had no connection to him, no link to his work or anyone who aimed to sabotage it. of all your secrets, he seemed to be the biggest.

you’d never expected anything to come of your little infatuation, but fox mulder didn’t like to let things linger. so when you just so happened to be venturing into the basement for something in the archived evidence room, he went into pursuit. you swiped your key card in the automatic door, and he followed you inside and made sure to close it nice and loud behind you. the lock clicked, causing you to jump out of your skin, and he laughed.

“not a fan of followers, huh?” the man teased.

“you just locked us in here, sir!” you nearly choked. you’d never seen him up close and personal. his shirt was a wrinkled mess, but it looked so nice rolled up on his fair-skinned arms, and his hair was a lot darker in person than it looked in the pictures. so were his eyes.

“sir? no, nobody calls me sir.”

“what should i call you, then?” you groaned.

“agent mulder. spooky mulder. basement boy. whatever floats your boat!”

“well, then, agent mulder,” you elected, “you just locked us in here!”

“is that what you’re worried about? don’t worry, i'm sure agent scully will come down soon enough. or maybe not. maybe you’re stuck in here with me.”

you pivoted and began walking down the first aisle of archives, trying to come up with something to grab to avoid blowing your cover. fox kept at your heels, poking his head playfully into your eyeline.

“looking for something… you?” he inquired.

“that’s agent to you.”

“no name? ooo… spooky,” he wiggled his eyebrows, and you suppressed the fluttering in your stomach. you thought in frustration, how dare he make wordplay hot?

“says you.” you negated.

“so you do know me!”

“everyone knows you, agent mulder.”

“oh, sure… but you’ve been watching me, haven’t you?”

you stopped between the alphabetized boxes marked by Hs and Js, biting your tongue. you watched as fox sauntered around to the front of you, leaning nonchalantly against the filing shelf and smirking. his hand raised to wipe his mouth, and you analyzed the rough calluses and ink splotches carving uniqueness into his knuckles. a deep cut rested along his thumbnail down to his wrist. you recognized it as a healed-over wound from an inconclusive case months ago- something he claimed to have involved lizard men.

“i- i’m not sure what you mean.”

“you’ve been following me around, taking note of what i do. i see you every day. sometimes in the break room, sometimes in the bullpen by the car desk, sometimes shooting guns down at the range room on saturdays like i usually am. you’re always… floating around.'' fox mused, running a hand through his thick hair. a few pieces curled agonizingly over the frame of his face, and you felt like dying.

“must be coincidences.”

“you know well as me that there are no such things as coincidences,” fox stated, “there are simply events that occur, and more often than not, they occur causally, or in my case, through spurious correlation, but nobody can ever seem to pinpoint the third invisible factor that links one event to another, except for me.”

“speak english, agent mulder, would you?”

“you’ve been following me, which caused me to notice you, which caused you to pretend you haven’t been, and so forth,” he sighed, “but you know what i’m saying, don’t lie. you’re a yale alumni, graduated summa cum laude with a double major in psychology and international affairs. you’re one of the smartest women in the building. so why are you acting dumb?”

your stomach flipped as he stepped closer to you, leaning down in all his six-foot glory to meet your gaze. swallowing thickly, you shoved your hand in a box labeled CONFISCATED Ka-Kz and fished out the first object you grasped: a bloodied kazoo. wincing in embarrassment, you waved it in his face and grimaced.

“i'm just down here for this.”

“for a murder kazoo.” he deadpanned.

“…yes.”

you turned away and began heading for the door, but a strong palm wrapped around your wrist, halting your stride. fox tugged you back, and you tried to keep your drooling gaze to a minimum at how handsome he looked when he was searching for answers.

“if you tell me what you want from me, i'll let you go.”

“i don't want anything.”

“bullshit,” the agent rolled his eyes, “everyone wants something, agent, even you. you’re a bad liar, you know that? that’s why you’re not under deep cover.”

how little you know, you thought with a smirk. “well, not everyone is made for danger.”

“no. you’re just made for stalking.”

you seized up, “i am not stalking you!”

fox grinned, liking how worked up you were becoming. “then why are you always in the corner of my eye, agent?”

you huffed in desperation, weighing your options. you could,

a) keep lying.

b) tell fox the truth.

c) bang on the locked door and scream until someone saves you from spooky mulder.

none of your options were appealing, but you weren’t getting out of here if you didn’t choose. option A would drag it out, and option C would get him fired, so you only had one path if you wanted to control casualties and your level of embarrassment in one shot.

as he stood patiently waiting, tie so horrendously knotted that it took all your willpower not to tug him down by it, you gave in.

“well, agent mulder, you… you’re interesting.”

“am i?”

“y-yes. you do amazing work. you catch killers. and you… write beautifully.”

fox chuckled softly, “you like my writing? what, are you the one who files my field reports or something?”

now may not be a good time to admit you tweaked the computer system to always assign you files submitted by agents between L and P in the alphabet just to be the sole individual who received fox’s files, so you withheld the truth a bit. it will come back to bite you in the ass when he looks into the signatures on his official paperwork, but oh, well.

“every so often,” is what you settled on. “you have something to say, and you say it like you’ve been contemplating the proper phrasing forever. it’s always so eloquent and intelligent and… fascinating.” you stopped praising him, feeling shame wash over you like a bad shot of vodka.

“well, aren’t you a regular fan?” fox rested his head against the filing shelf, eyes raising to the ceiling. his neck stretched open far enough that you could watch his adam's apple bob as he spoke. “glad to know my conclusions aren’t just the ramblings of a lunatic.”

“quite the opposite, agent mulder.” you blushed.

fox looked back down to you, and his puppy dog eyes bore holes into your cheeks. “i know a lot about you, you know. i know where you went to high school. i know you also use the irish cream for your cup of joe every day. i know you drive that baby blue car out in the garage, with the stupid “honk if you love labs” bumper sticker. but what i don't know, agent, or rather what i can’t figure out, is why you’re working in the filing department when you should be on an analyst team, or why you’re so insistent on following me around work. so, can you enlighten me with the truth?”

the truth. even when encountering you, his true colors show. you would be frustrated if it wasn’t so attractive how he interrogated you.

with a shaky breath as support, you said, “i want to know you.”

“is that all? you just… want to know me?”

“we don't work together. you’re too off-limits. my orders require me to stick to the mundane and watch from afar. but you, agent mulder, you are never mundane. you sit down here every day and crane over horrific cases, imagining the unimaginable, and all in the stuffy confines of a basement office that people would rather die than visit you in. y-you’re terrifying, you’re… fresh air.”

fox would never admit to it, but his entire body experienced pins and needles at the sound of your voice. in the least creepy way possible, you reminded him of the school librarian from his childhood- thin glasses, a loose blouse, and a voice thick and sweet, just how he liked his coffee.

“well, as the resident spooky one around here, i'd say you’re more freakish than me. you’re quite the stalker.”

“that's my business.”

you put the kazoo back in the box, frustrated you even attempted to jeopardize the secrecy of your nature for being down in the basement. fox’s hazel eyes followed your lethal nails as they replaced the object, and he wondered if they hurt when they grazed skin. a part of him really wanted to find out.

the man huffed, “so that’s it? no plans to kill me, or turn me in to the boss for my beliefs?”

“nope. just… watching from a distance.”

“you could watch up close if you wanted to. i could really benefit from someone so smart as you are, and someone who has such a knack for detail,” he teased. “you seem to have a way with words yourself, agent.”

“well, i appreciate the offer, but my hands are full as it is, agent mulder.”

“call me fox.”

in a flustered blackout, you blurted, “but no one calls you fox!” and the agent’s pupils blew wide.

somehow, deep inside, the idea of you knowing his secrets without ever speaking to him turned him on. you were a watcher, and as a profiler he’d even go so far as to call you a creep- a girl with a case of muldermania following his every move and sniffing the air when he walked past. he saw it in how your hands shook before him, how you craned your neck back in submission, how your eyes darted between his eyes and lips with fervor; how you swallowed nothing every five seconds in what he couldn’t discern between fear and anticipation. you had slightly sick motivations, so driven by the feeling his writing gave you and the idea of what it must be like to be inside his mind. and he liked it. he liked being studied, and understood, and having no say in it being done by a pretty girl like you. the man took another step closer this time, and you didn’t budge. this was one of his personal space invasions he’s so famous for- the kind people complain about when they’re put on the job with him. also the kind you’d dreamt of since you learned of his existence beneath the bureau.

“but you do when you think of me, don’t you?” he crooned, knowing how to play you from one freak to another. “when you think of watching me when you’re alone, and how we might interact. you call me fox in that pretty little head of yours, right? so say it.”

“w-well…”

“come on, don’t leave me hanging.”

you licked your lips as the heat of his breath danced across your face, and you flushed. “a-as much as i'd love to stay and talk, i have my obligations. not everyone is at your whim, fox.”

in a hormonal lapse, fox let out a soft, “mmm,” and flashed his adorable grin for you to fuss over. “that's too bad, then.”

“but,” you interrupted, “if you ever need, um, proofreading… or help, i can- you can, uh, maybe leave me a note? or something?”

“on your desk? in the filing department, right? in that office with the blue walls and the photograph of you and your chocolate lab, the one who inspired your bumper sticker, agent?” fox revealed, showing his intellectual hand.

with a dry mouth, you mustered a meek, “yeah, that’s the one.”

“good. maybe i'll spray it with my cologne, so you can savor the moment.”

“excuse me?” you squeaked.

“come on, agent,” fox winked, “just a joke. unless you’d like that, y’know, i won’t judge.”

and of course you would. he smelled like dust and paper, with a little sugar left from the coffee he drinks, and a little smoke from the candles he lights when they turn the lights off on him overnight in that dark hole of an office.

“you live up to your name, spooky mulder,” you bit your lip.

“so do you,” fox agreed, “what would we do without our eyes and ears?”

“… what did you just say?” you could barely muster a voice.

“you heard me.”

fox slipped a hand in his suit pant pocket and revealed your business card- not the filing office one, but for your cover. you have no idea how he’d gotten one, because the only place you keep them is in the locked safe beneath your desk. you were in bold, with your full name, position, boss, and reserved extension line. you thought of fox breaking into your office at night- while you were at home having dreams you’d never admit to- and sifting through your belongings, touching all that was yours, cracking open your secrets. you shuddered as he placed the card gently in your hand, his fingers trailing against the veins at the center of your wrist, where he could feel your pulse hammering.

the man slid past you in a split second, heading for the evidence room door and jiggling the handle upwards. when it unlocked, he shot a premeditated glance towards your mortified face and said, “somebody ought to get this fixed. see you around, agent.”

just about shaking, you stood in the aisle, dizzy from the sound of his departure and how every word fell from his lips with such intention. after a moment of weakness in which you let yourself lean against the filing shelf and catch your breath, you straightened out your blazer and made for the door. when you came into the hallway, you saw spooky mulder standing in his doorframe, thumbing through a file with his silver-rimmed glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. you turned quickly towards the stairs and left him to his devices, those being the file that was full of pictures of you.

all this time admiring from afar made you feel like a fool. now you were stuck with a lingering conversation and the overwhelming urge to visit the archives again, because someone downstairs had his eye on you. he knew you by way of his own eyes and ears, and there are a few things that aren’t in your files he’d like to learn.

and to think you were the stalker!

#Spotify #spooky mulder #x files #fox mulder #dana scully #fox mulder x reader #fox mulder smut #fox mulder fluff #fox mulder x you #fox mulder x reader fluff #something between smut and fluff idk #obsessive love #stalker #msr fanfic #msr #sculder

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bakedbakermom · 10 months

Text

Enough.

Rated X / 4800 words / tagging @today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr / posted on ao3

Summary: Dana Scully has had enough.

Author's Note: This is the first fanfic I have written, in this or any other fandom, for almost 20 years. It felt great to stretch the old muscles, and I hope you enjoyed it. Comments will be printed, laminated, and hung on the wall <3

_________

God, I only meant to kiss him, Scully thought, gasping, before Mulder’s tongue swirled around her nipple and she lost the ability to think.

And it was true - thoughts of kissing Mulder had been brewing deep in her core for weeks, crowding out her ability to think of much else. She had found herself watching his mouth when she should have been listening to his words, and feeling vaguely envious of everything that touched his lips. He brought them some truly terrible vending machine coffee during an all-nighter at a crummy hotel in the midwest, and the way his tongue had toyed with the little opening on the lid as he waited for it to cool made her thighs clench. In yet another rental car on yet another nameless backroad, she watched his jaw work as he split the shells of his favorite sunflower seeds, wondering how that sharp tongue that worked them so deftly open would feel in her own mouth, if he would taste of salt and beer. He licked barbecue sauce from his fingers at an all-night diner in the middle of nowhere, his tongue swirling around tips, and she had nearly choked on her iced tea.

Oh yes, thoughts of kissing Mulder had been occupying her more and more. And from the way he would catch her eye, sending her an almost imperceptible smirk each time he saw her watching, he knew exactly the effect he was having on her. She kept waiting for him to stop being such a gentleman, to take that first bold step the way he so often did. But each time she felt that line rising up to be crossed, he pulled away.

And Dana Scully had had enough.

She’d decided tonight, as she rode up the elevator for one of their not-a-date-nights that had become their post-case norm of late, that she was ready - or more accurately, that she was so far past ready that she might actually die if she didn’t kiss him soon. She brought wine - nothing too fancy, nothing that would be out of place in the mismatched glasses he kept in the cabinet, but a step up from the usual ales and lagers they usually shared. And she wore a soft v-neck sweater cut just a tad lower than she would usually wear, the better to show off the enticing cleavage her new bra presented.

When she had slipped into the matching panties, she had very firmly told herself it was simply a personal preference for symmetry, and not any sort of statement about where this desperately-needed kiss would lead.

From the moment he popped Tarantula into the VCR (for the fourth time, “It’s a classic, Scully!”), she had begun planning her move. She drained her first glass of wine faster than she should have, before he’d even finished making the popcorn, letting the liquid courage percolate through her system. He settled in beside her with a large bowl in his lap, loaded with butter and salt just how she likes it, just the way he’s talked her into liking it; and she eased herself slowly closer to him on the worn leather couch until the heat of his thigh pressed against her own. By the time Leo G. Carrol’s assistant went up in flames, she was nestled quite cozily against him. She watched him from the corner of her eye, and saw with some satisfaction that he was watching her as well.

She had never let herself get quite this close to him before, or at least not without some life-threatening context. (Except for that time on the baseball diamond, when she thought maybe this was it, but he had done nothing more than flirt and hit pop-flies and leave her flushed and frustrated).

But there were no invisible forest men now, no cultists armed with rifles, no bees or beasts or black-suited thugs. Just them, and a cheesy sci-fi movie, and a bowl of popcorn in his lap so that each time she reached for a handful she was acutely aware of just what lay beneath it; with each bite he would slowly lick the salt from his lips, and something in her heart would sputter. She had the sudden sense he was doing it on purpose - that he knew exactly what she was thinking, and as always, their minds were traveling down the same road together.

When the giant spider crested the dry scrubby hills surrounding Desert Rock, Arizona, to devour the hero, he had draped his arm across the back cushions, the very picture of a nervous teenager at the drive-in. She took the chance to move more closely still, the heat and the scent of him nearly overwhelming. Her heartbeat seemed to thrum through every inch of her body, and she felt certain he could feel it through her skin. She had stopped watching the screen entirely, unable to concentrate on anything but the pounding of her heart and the body of the man beside her. When she couldn’t stand it another second, she took one last breath for courage, turned in the circle of his arm, and tilted up to press her mouth to his.

The first brush of their lips was tentative, soft, toe-curlingly tender and if he tasted like wine and popcorn instead of seeds and beer, well, she was absolutely not complaining. When his tongue brushed against her lower lip, she opened for him, and the way his tongue slid into her mouth felt like coming home. Scully had thought that it would be enough just to kiss him, just to sit together on the creaking leather of his old couch, under the warm, scratchy weight of the Navajo blanket he kept there more for her sake than for his, and languidly lap at the font of his mouth until morning.

What she hadn’t anticipated, but in hindsight should have known based on years of observing his oral fixation, was that Fox Mulder would be an absolutely amazing kisser. He was slow and exploratory and unrelenting, running his tongue along her teeth and her lips and the roof of her mouth as if he could read her desires written there in braille. He nibbled at her lower lip and suckled at the upper and still she really could have just kissed, just necked him like a teenager for hours, until he cupped her jaw with one wide hand and his thumb brushed against the pulse point in her throat and she whimpered. Actually whimpered, a wholly unexpected, desperate, animal sound that she would have found utterly embarrassing had he not answered with a soft growl that reverberated down her throat and straight into her pelvis, and it was all bets off from there.

A whirl of hands and mouths and somehow she is lying half beneath him, his shirt gone and her sweater pushed up and that pretty new bra pulled down to expose one rosey-peaked breast to the dual pleasures of his hand and his mouth. When her knee brushes against his growing erection, he bites her nipple just hard enough to make her gasp. He chuckles into her skin and looks up to meet her eyes, delighted to find her pupils blown out with lust and her cheeks turning a beautiful shade of pink. Her fingers curl in his hair and pull; he releases her nipple with a sinfully wet pop and crashes his mouth into hers with a force that clacks their teeth together.

He rolls her over his body until she’s straddling him, heat blooming everywhere they touch. The soft springy hairs of his chest tickle her oversensitive skin, and he runs his hands from her shoulders, down the fine curve of her waist to grip and knead at the firm flesh of her ass. She scratches her nails across the broad plains of his shoulders - softly at first, then more firmly when he hums his assent into her mouth. The muscles of his back flex beneath her hands, and his whole body shudders as she moves them to his front, his nipples pebbling beneath her touch.

He pulls her down against him and presses up at the same time, trying to find some relief for the near-painful ache in his groin. She moans into his mouth and he does it again, and she arches against him in pleasure.

Mulder uses this distraction to pull her top off all the way, unclasping her bra with one hand and bringing his mouth back to her breast before the fabric has even hit the floor. She writhes above him, panting and gasping as he learns the right combination of lips, teeth, and tongue to make her shudder. Always such a curious mind, single-focused and driven, now turned to uncovering the mysteries of her body, and she revels in being the object of his obsession.

“I want you, Scully,” he whispers as he moves to the other breast. She arches into his mouth but doesn’t answer.

He stills, eyes wary, that lost little boy inside peeking through. Waiting for rejection, waiting for her to say it was all a mistake and walk away. With their height difference, their eyes are level now even with her straddling his lap. He brushes a lock of hair out of her eyes and gently thumbs her cheekbones. The sadness in his voice is palpable. “Do you want to stop?”

She shakes her head just slightly, her brows knitting together and her mouth moving into a particular smirk that, in the complex language of Scully Microexpressions, means I need a second to find the right words. His hands skim along her sides, walking the line between comforting, tickling, and arousing. It takes a few deep breaths before she remembers how to speak; the last one comes out on a shudder as she presses her lips to his forehead.

The credits are rolling on the TV across the room, the monster immolated and the town safe; shadows flicker over their faces as she looks into his eyes, unsurprised to find a sheen of unshed tears there that matches her own. She had thought that meeting his gaze after they had kissed - or, more accurately, after he had her nipple in his mouth and his erection pressing against her - might be awkward, but like everything else between them the last seven years, it somehow feels natural. They’re stepping across this line together.

“I don’t want to stop, Mulder,” she whispers, nuzzling along his nose, “I’ve just been thinking about kissing you for so long, I never really let myself think about what might come after.”

“Mmm,” he hums into her skin, peppering her face with kisses before moving down her neck and along her collarbone. “Good thing I have.”

“Oh?” Her eyebrow lifts; he can hear it in her voice even though his face is buried in her hair.

“Often, and in great detail.” His lips find that same pulse point, right where her jaw meets her throat, and he grins as her thighs squeeze his. One hand cups the back of her head, tilting her this way and that so his mouth can reach every possible inch of skin; the other hand comes up to her breast, kneading and rolling. She is soft and pliant above him, allowing him to explore, making soft sounds each time he finds a sensitive spot, and his profiler’s mind is tucking each one away for later.

“Tell me,” she pants as he presses a kiss to the hollow of her throat. She slips her hand between them and presses her palm against the thick ridge of his erection, grinning as he moans into her skin. “Show me.”

"Christ, Scully. Where should I begin?" Mulder presses another kiss to her lips, so soft and tender she forgets how to breathe for a moment. He sips at her like fine wine, savoring each taste of her tongue, her lips, the ivory ridge of her teeth. By the time he pulls back she is shivering, aching to see what happens next.

"There is one thing I fantasize about quite frequently," he husks close to her ear. The scratch of his stubble is intoxicating. "I can't stop wondering what you taste like." He reaches between them to cup her, hot and throbbing, through her slacks, and her blushing nod is the only answer she can manage.

All she can do is moan in anticipation as he leans her slowly back, supporting the full weight of her in his arms, until her shoulders come to rest on the arm of the couch, his body nestled hard and hot between her trembling thighs.

She will never again be able to smell leather without remembering this moment.

He kisses his way down her body with a slow deliberation that borders on agonizing, nipping and sucking and licking every inch he can reach. When his tongue swirls into the dip of her navel she nearly cries with pleasure. He runs his teeth over the ridge of her hip bones as he parts the zipper on her slacks. His mouth leaves her body only long enough to shuck the pants to the floor, and then he is nosing along the hem of her panties.

"Fuck, Scully, I can smell you." He runs his fingers over the lacy fabric, scraping his nails along the gusset until she shakes. "You're so wet, you're soaking through."

With anyone else she might have felt embarrassed, but Mulder's words only enflame her further. She rolls her hips, shamelessly rubbing herself against him. "Please," she pants, "please touch me."

He laughs darkly, continuing to run his fingers slowly up and down the length of her slit, and rubs his stubble against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. He licks her, once, over the lace, and she bucks desperately towards his mouth. “Easy there, G-woman,” he murmurs, pressing her back down with one firm hand on her hip. “I’m living my dream, here.”

She laughs, a short huff that eases some of the tension in her gut, and tries to relax into his ministrations. He smiles as she softens beneath him, and rewards her by sliding one long finger under the sheer scrap of fabric, just barely grazing her entrance. “So wet,” he says again.

He looks up to see that her eyes have fluttered closed. “Look at me,” he says, and when she finds enough will to meet his eyes, he lifts his finger, glistening with her wetness, into his mouth and sucks deeply. "You're just as sweet as I imagined."

“Fuck,” she whimpers, and knows she is dripping. “More. Please.”

Apparently he renders her monosyllabic.

“How much do you love these?” he asks, appraising the delicate lace, the tiny stitches along the seams.

“Not at all. Hate them. Please.” She is gasping, writhing, and when he rips her panties off she nearly keens with pleasure.

He stares at her for so long she begins to feel nervous, and a flush creeps up her chest and floods her cheeks. He takes in the auburn thatch of curls between her thighs, the dark pink swell of her labia, the tiny freckles sprinkled across the creamy expanse of her skin. He drags his fingers down the length of her slit, marveling at the way her lower lips spread for him, at the moisture leaking from her sweet little cunt. “Beautiful,” he breathes.

“Mulder,” she huffs, squirming, “if you don’t quit staring and touch me soon, I’m going to shoot you. Again.”

A quick grin and then his mouth is on her, his tongue lapping at the entrance to her sex, and the first brush of his lips over her clit nearly sends her over the edge.

If the way he kissed her felt obsessive, he eats her out with something that borders on worship.

He slides one long finger inside her, then another, curling them against her front wall until he finds the spot that makes her gush and shake around him. He flicks his tongue over the hardened nub of her clitoris - slow, fast, gentle, hard - and she fists her hands in his hair when it’s just the right combination. He presses the hood back with his thumb and suckles directly on the little bundle of nerves; her belly coils tight with pleasure and she manages to gasp, “Yes, there, I’m so close, oh -” before she can’t make sense anymore.

He swirls and suckles on her clit, pumping gently in and out with his fingers, and experimentally runs his little finger down her perineum to brush gently over the tight pucker of her asshole. She shudders and her whimpers reach a new, higher pitch. He hums his satisfaction into her dripping sex, and that’s all it takes - she is gone, shaking and gasping and making strangled little cries that might be his name.

Mulder continues to lap tenderly at her sex as she comes down, riding out tremors and trembles until she is heavy-limbed and boneless beneath him. Her smile looks almost drunken as she cards her fingers through his hair. “Good, Scully?” he asks, pressing a kiss to her inner thigh.

She nods and hums, riding a cloud of oxytocin. He eases out from between her legs; her smile begins to fade into confusion until he slides one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her back, lifting her easily, and carries her down the hall to his bedroom.

His sheets are softer than she had expected, as if he had been hoping for company; she wonders if this is the first time he has prepared a bed for them, how many movie nights he has slept alone on these soft sheets after the door snicked shut behind her without so much as a kiss. The thought strikes a surprisingly sad chord in her heart.

The bed dips as he settles in beside her, and she curls into his open arms with a happy sigh. “A girl could get used to this,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to his bare chest.

“I sure hope she does,” he answers.

She drapes one of her legs over his and - “Oh.” She lifts the sheet and sees he somehow still has his jeans on, and is still sporting a rather impressive tent. “You appear to be overdressed,” she teases.

“Don’t worry about me, Scully. This has already been so much more than I -”

She puts a finger over his lips and shoots him one of her more serious looks. “Mulder. Shut up.”

And, for perhaps the first time in his life, he does.

Scully’s legs are still a little weak as she climbs on top of him, rubbing herself shamelessly over the bulge in his pants. She’s wet again already and hungry for him in a way she hasn’t felt in years. Her hair falls around them in an amber curtain as she leans down to kiss him, long and slow and deep. He’s grinning like an idiot by the time she pulls away, and she decides that looking down on Mulder may be her new favorite place to be.

She grinds down harder with her hips, the seam of his jeans pressing right where she wants it the most. He moans, trying not to buck beneath her and throw off her rhythm. He has to clench his fists in the sheets. She’s making a wet spot on his pants; he’ll have to wash them - and the sheets, and the couch - in the morning, but he couldn’t care less about any of that because Scully’s breasts are bouncing just in front of his face and she is writhing on top of him like an animal in heat. He reaches for her hips, trying to get just a little more pressure, but she grabs his wrists and holds them down.

“Nuh-uh,” she huffs. “You made me beg. Now it’s your turn.” She waits until he stops trying to lift his hands, then rakes her nails down his chest, leaving little streaks of pink in their wake.

“Fuck, Scully,” he moans, throwing his head back and thrusting up with his hips, which only makes her lift herself away. “I don’t know how much of this I can take.”

She only casts him a wicked grin before lowering her mouth to his, plunging her tongue deep inside and moaning. He is the first to break away, gasping for breath, and she waits for his eyes to find hers before she leaves a trail of hot, wet kisses down the length of his torso. He is not as sensitive as she had been, though he does jump when she runs her tongue across the firm plains of his stomach. She finds the fine trail of dark hair beneath his navel and nips and sucks her way down it until it ends at the waist of his pants.

He expects her to undo the fly and pull them off, but instead she rubs her cheek against the stiff bulge of his cock, as if to mark it with her scent. She catches his eye again, to make sure he is watching, and then runs her tongue slowly over the full length of it. She can taste herself on the fabric and is surprised at how erotic it is.

“God, Scully. Please.”

“Mmm,” she hums against him and thumbs open the button on his fly. “Begging. I see the appeal.” She slides one hand under the waistband and scratches through the coarse hair just above his cock.

“I would get on my knees but I think something might break off.”

“Then allow me.”

She kneels between his legs, pulling down his zipper and shimmying his soft jeans down the length of his legs. She has a moment to wonder at the fact that he doesn’t appear to be wearing any boxers - does he go commando in general these days, or, like the sheets, was he hoping for something to happen tonight? - and then her eyes land on his cock and she forgets how to think.

She’s seen him naked before, of course, but always under the guise of a medical professional. Glimpsing his body while treating injury or disease is one thing. Never has she seen him hard, and now faced with the full monty - or rather, the full Mulder - she is only slightly more impressed than intimidated. She takes him in her hand, pumping up and down slowly, and a small bead of precum leaks from the purple tip. Her heart jumps, her mouth begins to water, and she licks her lips as she realizes it’s all for her.

“Oh Christ, don’t do that,” he moans, eyes glued to her mouth. “I’m trying to be cool here.” So of course she stares into his eyes, parts her lips, and then very slowly runs her tongue in a full circle around them.

He’s about to say something else but it cuts off with a gurgle when she takes him into her mouth. He’s too big to take in too deeply just yet, but she licks the tip of him like an ice cream cone, her tongue moving in lazy circles as she pumps him languidly with one hand. The other comes up beneath to cup the soft weight of his balls. He is salty and tangy and strangely sweet, and she moans as the taste of him floods her senses. She is so aroused it’s almost painful, and she wishes she had a third hand so she could touch herself as she sucks him. She takes him deeper, surprised at how much she enjoys this - the twitching of his thighs as he tries not to thrust, the way he is moaning her name between strings of curse words, the startling way his cock bumps against the back of her throat.

She’s just beginning to wonder if she can relax her throat enough to swallow him further down when Mulder’s hands land suddenly in her hair, pulling her mouth away from him with a wet and undignified slurping sound. “Hey,” she protests, donning an exaggerated and teasing pout. Her mouth and chin glisten with a mix of saliva and precum. “I was enjoying that.”

He sits up and slides his fingers between her legs. “I can tell,” he says, circling her clit and making her gasp. “And don’t get me wrong, I was too. But…”

He pulls her up the length of his body until she is nestled in his lap, her thighs braced on either side of his and his cock only inches from the wet heat of her cunt. “Please, Scully.”

“More begging?,” she purrs as she takes him in her fist again. She shifts so she can rub the tip of him between her wet and swollen folds until he moans. She positions him right against her entrance, his tip just barely inside. “Is this what you want?” she pants. For all the playfulness in her voice, she is trembling with want, and shudders as she feels herself dripping around him.

“Yes,” he hisses into her ear, crushing her tight against him and pressing his hips up. He slips another inch inside her. “Fuck me, Scully, please.” Another small thrust, another inch of her clenching around him.

Enough teasing, she decides. Enough begging. Enough waiting.

She doesn’t trust her voice not to break, so she only nods and kisses him as if she could devour him whole.

She slides down onto him slowly, adjusting to the width of him until he is buried to the hilt. They are both shaking now, their panting breaths a humid cloud between them. A long moment passes before she can move, before her body can handle the way he stretches and fills her. She is slow and deliberate, rising until he nearly slips from her body, then easing down to grind her clit against his pelvis. Waves of pleasure wash through her with each stroke, and she drops her head to his shoulder, overwhelmed.

He reaches down to cup her ass, spreading her wide and taking some control over her motion. They moan in unison as he begins to thrust in counterpoint to the slow roll of her hips.

It doesn’t take long before Scully begins to feel the flame of another orgasm kindle deep in her belly. The moan that comes from her throat belongs to another woman, one who is wild and wanton and apparently capable of coming more than once in a night; and oh how she wants to be that woman.

“Mulder,” she pants, “I need - I’m -” Another moan, and the coil inside her tightens further, closing off her ability to speak.

He understands, he always understands, licking his thumb and then sliding it between their sweating bodies to press hard against her clit. “Fuck, yes, Scully,” he says as she grinds down on his hand. “I want to feel you come.”

His mouth seeks out that same damn spot on her neck that started this whole thing, sucking and nibbling with the same rhythm of his thumb circling her clit. “Come for me, Scully,” he growls into her skin, and then bites down hard enough to bruise.

She shatters around him, bucking her hips wildly against him and muffling her cries of “Mulder, oh God, Mulder,” into his shoulder until she is hoarse. He tumbles over the edge right behind her, hot and pulsing, and the feel of his cock twitching as he fills her with his cum is nearly enough to set her off again.

They stay entwined for a long time, shudders passing back and forth between them, until their sweat cools and their mingled fluids begin to leak onto his thighs.

Mulder leans back first, brushing damp hair from her face so he can look into her eyes. “Hey.”

Her answering smile is almost bashful, but there’s not an ounce of regret in it. “Hey.”

“So. Wine. Fancy underwear. That sweater.”

“No boxers,” she counters. “Clean, soft sheets?”

She quirks an eyebrow, he tilts his chin and smiles.

And just like that they are themselves, again, still, always, but now with a new layer of togetherness to explore. He moistens a washcloth in the bathroom sink and tenderly cleans them both, and they curl up on the soft - if rumpled and damp - sheets together.

They do not share “I love you”s. Not tonight. Not yet. But they both feel it in the brush of the other’s fingers, taste it in the tenderness of the last kiss they share before falling asleep together.

And that is enough.

#x files fanfic #the x files #xf fic #xf fanfic #dana scully #fox mulder #msr #smut #xfiles #the xfiles #mulder and scully #my fic #my writing #enough

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fine-nephrit · 2 months

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🥏 TXF Fic Rec #21: "Calculated Risk" by Sarie Fairy

Sarie Fairy (@sarie-fairy) does a great job turning on the heat in this spicy, fervent MSR first-time story. Following the high emotions of episode 7x02, “Amor Fati,” what’s a better way for our agents to blow off steam than a drunk and frenzied smutting session in a public bathroom?

What I liked most though, is their conversation in the bar leading up to the deed. Long repressed feelings come out to play, and the tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife. I never get tired of post-“Never Again” angst. Their discussion about Ed Jerse, finally happening after three years, is particularly well-handled and unfolds exactly as it should.

---

🥏 on Ao3

length: short, 11,000+ words season: season 7, 7x02 Amor Fati, mentions of 4x13 Never Again pairing(s): M/S First-time tags: episode-related, smut, angst, jealousy, Diana Fowley, Scully-POV rating: explicit/NC-17

#x files #the x files #xf fanfic #x files fanfic #msr #nephrit's fic rec #len: short #season: 7 #7x02 amor fati #4x13 never again #ship: m/s first time #genre: episode related #genre: smut #genre: angst #jealousy #diana fowley #scully pov #rating: nc17 #by: sarie fairy

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internet-sadass · 4 months

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Don't Panic (Fox Mulder x Dana Scully)

Blurb: What's the best thing to do when you get stuck in an elevator? Don't panic and make a move on your work partner! After getting stuck in an elevator, Scully helps the time go by quicker for Mulder by giving him something much more pleasant to focus on than their current predicament.

Warnings: smut, oral sex (male receiving), semi-public sex (in an elevator)

A/N: Inspired by this amazing post I saw on X/Twitter (https://twitter.com/lordesbbqribs/status/1740685939712921956). Literally could NOT get the image out of my brain so here's the result of that. This has far more plot in it than I anticipated and it's also really dumb plot but whatever, there is still copious amounts of smut so it balances out.

"Don't nearly all high-rise buildings have no thirteenth floor? As in, they have a physical thirteenth floor, but they don't label it as such?" Scully said, staring up at the dizzyingly tall building that seemed to sway the more she tried to focus on it.

"They do, and for a good reason. Seems that naming your thirteenth floor leads to endless numbers of unexplainable injuries and deaths. The turnover rate in this place must be crazy." Mulder shaded his eyes with a hand and followed his partner's gaze.

Rolling her eyes, Scully turned her gaze to Mulder, who was still wistfully admiring the sheer height of the building they were about to enter.

"Or, this place could have terrible workplace health and safety standards. And maybe some of the deaths are from falls or even suicides. I don't think this building having a thirteenth floor is what is causing egregious amounts of workplace injuries." As always, Scully offered her rational take on the case, despite knowing that Mulder would try to disprove the rational with the irrational, as he always did.

They entered the lobby, which was incredibly suave for the reception of an office building. The front desk was marble, or, at least, imitation marble. An abstract mural hung on the wall behind the desk, some sort of painting of colourful fluids intertwining. The click of Scully's heels brought their attention to the floor, which also appeared to be marble.

"In this sort of place? I don't think anywhere with this much money would wilfully let their workforce injure themselves beyond repair. Besides, I don't know any office jobs where there's machinery that can cause lacerations and fourth degree burns." Mulder whispered to Scully, leaning close to her as he placed a hand on her back to guide her towards the elevator.

Much like the reception of the building, the elevator looked far more expensive than a simple elevator in an office building should be. The railings were mahogany, the floor was a mosaic of the building itself, and each of the four walls was made of a startling clean mirror. Three reflections of Mulder and Scully greeted them as they entered the elevator. Mulder pressed the button for the 13th floor, then proceeded to walk up to each of the mirrors and press the tip of his finger to the glass, inspecting the point at which his fingertip met that of his reflections.

"Mulder, what are you doing?" Scully said, bemused by his antics.

"Checking to see if this is a two-way mirror. You never know, maybe the boss here liked to spy on his employees." He replied, still engrossed in testing the mirrors.

Shaking her head to herself, Scully watched the numbers on the digital display go up from zero as the elevator rose up the building. It had just reached twelve when it shuddered to a stop, making her nearly lose her footing and grasp the railing for support. The display was now blank.

"Looks like the thirteenth floor doesn't want us to visit. Maybe we have to take the stairs the rest of the way." Mulder didn't seem at all concerned about the elevator fault and pressed the button for the doors, expecting they'd open onto the twelfth floor. The doors remained shut.

"Shit." He cursed under his breath, pressing the button again. Exhaling deeply, he rubbed his temples, willing the elevator to either open its doors and set them free, or to start moving.

"Don't worry, Mulder, these things usually get resolved pretty quickly. I've been trapped in an elevator a few times before, and the maintenance crew always sorted it out within half an hour." Scully tried her best to soothe her clearly frustrated partner. She rubbed his arm, noticing the firmness of the bicep hidden under the layers of fabric.

Not now, She thought. We are not having these sorts of thoughts when we are literally trapped in a box with him. This is not the time for fantasies.

Wrenching herself out of her thoughts, Scully searched the button panel for an alarm bell. She found it and pressed it, hoping that some of the money the company had poured into this swanky building had gone towards a half-decent maintenance crew. An eerie silence was the only thing that filled the elevator. She pressed the button again, despite knowing it was probably going to yield the same disappointing result.

“Mustn’t be connecting to the reception or wherever it's supposed to call through to.” Mulder stated, slouching against the wall next to Scully, letting his head tilt back against the mirror behind him. She unconsciously mirrored him, taking up the same pose.

“They’ll figure out the only elevator in this building is out of order soon, even if the alarm doesn't work. Hardly something that’ll go unnoticed.” She said, mostly to keep herself calm. She didn't consider herself claustrophobic, but even so, the idea of being trapped in a little box for hours on end was far from appealing.

Twenty-five minutes later…

Normally, being trapped in a room with Scully while working on a case wasn’t an issue for Mulder. He’d found that, provided there was something else to occupy his mind with, it wouldn't start to wander onto topics such as how soft Scully’s lips looked, how her skirts molded perfectly over her hips and ass, how she stirred up some filthy visions in him whenever she looked up at him through her long lashes. Those certain topics were explored when he was alone at night, preferably with a bottle of lube nearby. But right now, when he was trapped in a tiny room with not just Scully but three (visible) reflections of her, his mind was very much wandering into dangerous territory. He couldn't keep his eyes off either her real warm body next to him or the three cold reflections of her oh-so tempting form that caged him in. All this time spent with her, alone and without a distraction, meant all he could think about was her and all the things he wanted to do with her.

Little did Mulder know, the woman next to him faced an identical dilemma. Scully had good self-discipline, and despite how much she wanted to turn her strictly professional, platonic relationship with Mulder into something more, she resisted her desires, stuffing them down and keeping them out of her thoughts by throwing herself into her work. The only problem with that method of ‘dealing’ with her feelings was that whenever there was no work to occupy her mind, those feelings came bubbling up. Right now, she was stealing glances at Mulder, admiring the slight shadow of facial hair decorating his sharp jaw, the bump of his Adam’s apple, and the veins on his hands as he held the railing. She wanted to kiss him, blow him, fuck him, sleep with him, all of that. And, rather helpfully, her brain was spewing out various ways she could propose the idea of doing something unprofessional with him right now. Most of them were nonsense or simply things she couldn't bring herself to say until one thought seriously made her stir.

After a certain point, she just couldn’t take it anymore. Her hindbrain was too persistent, and she knew it would only be quieted by acting upon its impulses. With her better judgment completely forgotten, she let those impulses take over.

Clearing her throat, Scully absently checked her watch.

“It's only been twenty-five minutes since the elevator jammed, but it feels like it could have easily been an hour.” She said, looking over at Mulder. He tilted his head to meet her gaze.

“Time goes slow when you’re suspended in an elevator shaft.” He responded dryly.

“Yes, but time flies when you’re having fun. Or so the saying goes.” She looked at her shoes, blood rushing in her ears and her stomach doing backflips. She felt like a teenager about to ask their crush on a date.

Mulder chuckled.

“What fun can you have in an elevator, Scully?”

He’d walked right into her game, and god , she was glad he’d taken the bait so easily.

“Not much except from something like this.”

Now or never, Scully.

She stepped in front of him and then dropped to her knees, settling between his legs, looking up and taking in the confused expression on his handsome face. Her hand shook as she reached out and stroked his inner thigh, rubbing up until she was tantalizingly close to his crotch before sliding back down towards his knee.

“S-Scully…” Mulder sounded like he was simultaneously questioning, scolding, and asking her to keep going.

She stroked back up his thigh, pausing for a moment before she got to his crotch.

“You want me to make time fly for you?”

Mulder couldn't manage a verbal response to Scully’s (mostly rhetorical) question, so he just nodded and brought a hand to cup the back of her head, silently urging her to carry out what she had planned for him.

Having got the go-ahead from Mulder, Scully began to palm his soft length, pumping it gently through the fabric of his slacks. It responded to her touch almost instantaneously, beginning to stiffen with each slide of her hand. Much to her surprise and perverted delight, now that she had her hands on him, she guessed Mulder was rocking something about seven inches, maybe more once he was fully erect. Curiosity getting the better of her, she undid his belt and pulled his fly open, easing his slacks down his hips to reveal the light blue fabric of his boxers and the prominent outline of his growing erection. She pulled the stretchy waistband down far enough to let his cock spring out. It did indeed look about seven inches, with a pretty pink tip and two prominent veins winding their way up from the base. The breathy gasp she let out as she took his cock in her hand sent a shiver up Mulder’s spine and gave his ego a good stroke. Clearly, she was pleasantly shocked by what he had in his pants.

Pumping his length until it reached full hardness, Scully was starting to wish she was daring enough to let Mulder fuck her properly right now. As much as she was desperate to feel him stretch her cunt open and pound her with her face pressed up against the mirrored wall, she knew that was far too risky. Maybe after she showed him just how much fun she could be, then they could go further than a bit of impromptu oral next time they found themselves locked in a room together.

Leaning forward, she began to lick from the base of his shaft to his crown, savouring the salt of his skin, which intensified in flavour as she flicked her tongue over his slit. Taking him in her mouth, she hummed as she adjusted to how her lips stretched around his girth and the weight of his cock on her tongue. Desire began to burn in her lower belly as she imagined what his length would feel like entering her cunt, how well it’d stretch her out and fill her. She took as much of him into her mouth, hollowing her cheeks as she did so, earning a sinful moan from Mulder. He gripped the railing tighter, looking at the ceiling and mumbling a curse to himself. The hand he’d rested against her head now gripped it, his fingers getting lost in the warmth of her thick hair.

This was exactly like the fantasies Mulder indulged in on a nearly nightly basis, however, the major difference was this was fantastically real and engaged all his senses. Instead of the cool flesh of his hand pumping his cock, he could feel it sinking in and out of the hot, wet cavern of Scully’s mouth. The way her tongue pressed against the underside of his shaft and swirled around his crown every time she drew his cock nearly out of her mouth made his knees weak. No woman had ever used her tongue so artfully on him. Even better than the sensation of her mouth and tongue was the sight of her blue eyes looking up at him and her lips stretched around his cock. Although he was desperately trying to last as long as he could, the combination of how heavenly she felt around him, the way she was looking at him, the soft moans she was making, and the fact that this was Scully blowing him was making it nigh on impossible for him to hold back from orgasm.

Watching and feeling her mouth's effect on Mulder was turning on Scully more than it should have. Blow jobs weren’t something she normally found super appealing; they had always been an act done for her partner’s benefit or to repay them for giving her pussy the same treatment. However, she couldn’t deny that her panties were soaked, and her clit twinged as it was left untouched despite how it throbbed. Blowing Mulder was hot to her, solely because it was Mulder whom she had in her mouth and whom she could hear moaning her name. Moving her free hand under her skirt, she stroked over her clit and slit through her tights and panties. She whimpered around the cock in her mouth, her eyes almost shuttering closed as she touched herself. It was unlikely that she would be able to make herself orgasm right now, but at least she’d have the best material to get off to later on when she got into bed that night. She rubbed herself through the two layers of thin fabric, rutting against her hand as she chased her own high.

Scully knew before Mulder spoke a word that he was painfully close; his cock kept twitching in her mouth, the tip leaking down her throat, his hips juttering as he tried to thrust harder into her mouth.

“C-can I?” He stuttered out rather pathetically, his green eyes dark and half-lidded as he looked down at her, waiting for her answer.

She pulled off his cock with a satisfying ‘pop’, which made Mulder groan and his knees nearly give way.

“Can you wait just a few more moments? I have something I want to try.” Her voice was hoarser and lower than usual, her throat feeling tender after having the head of a cock ram into it multiple times.

“Okay, okay.” Mulder all but gasped out.

He was so close it was hurting him to hold back. His balls kept tightening as his orgasm threatened to come spilling out of him. He had no idea Scully could be like this. In all his fantasies, he’d cast her as more innocent than himself, less experienced, ready and willing to be guided through various sexual acts. Truth be told, he liked the real Scully far more now. The way she borderline dominated and controlled him with her mouth and hand was unbelievably sexy to him. It made him wonder if she would have the same attitude while perched atop him, riding him and making him work for the chance to finish inside her.

Scully pulled the waistband of Mulder’s boxers further down his thighs, giving her better access to his balls. Holding his cock in one hand, she slowly pumped it, running her thumb over the slit, smearing the pre-cum that was beginning to leak over her fingers. Taking a deep breath in, she took his balls in her mouth, sucking on them gently, testing to see whether Mulder appreciated this experimental move. His fingers clenched her hair, a shuddering whimper leaving his mouth. That was a clear enough sign that he was enjoying what she was doing; therefore, she continued until a tug on her hair made her draw back.

“Open your mouth.” Mulder panted out, his chest heaving.

Obeying his command, Scully presented her mouth to him, releasing his cock from her clasp. Mulder’s hand replaced hers, guiding his length back into her awaiting mouth. He didn't even have a chance to stroke himself before he felt himself cumming in heavy spurts, his seed filling up Scully’s mouth and sliding down her throat. She swallowed, then licked the head of his cock clean of his sticky release.

“Hello? Is there anyone trapped in there?”

The voice coming over the intercom made Mulder and Scully jump, tearing them out of their hazy post-coital state. They exchanged a look, knowing one of them had to answer.

“Y-yes, two of us.” Mulder managed, his voice wavering. He hadn't had a chance to recover from one of the best orgasms he’d ever had the pleasure of experiencing, so he wasn’t in the best shape to even speak.

“Right. We’re currently getting a rescue crew down to you. The elevator is suspended between floors twelve and thirteen, so it will take some time to get to the pair of you. Apologies for taking so long to respond to the alert. Whenever the elevator stops between floors, the intercom signal gets iffy.”

The male voice continued, sounding anything but apologetic about allowing two people to remain trapped in an elevator for nearly an hour. The intercom clicked off before either Mulder or Scully could thank the voice for letting them know help was coming.

Scully got up from the floor, wiping the mix of saliva and semen from her lips. She suddenly felt immensely awkward, unsure of what she was supposed to do or say after performing oral sex on her colleague in a fit of passion. Mulder appeared to be suffering the same feelings as he silently pulled his boxers and slacks back up. After a few more moments of unbearably tense silence, Mulder found it in himself to say something.

“I didn’t think you had that in you, Scully.” He said, grasping her by the elbows and drawing her close to his chest. Her hands came to rest against his pectorals as she absently smoothed his shirt, still avoiding his gaze.

“Not that I’m complaining about it. Colour me pleasantly surprised that you’re such a vixen.” He added, twisting a strand of her red hair around his index finger, smirking at her.

His words didn’t do anything to help Scully find the ability to speak. She felt her cheeks heat up.

“I…didn’t really think I had it in me either. It's been a long time since I’ve been that daring.” She confessed.

“How long?” Mulder asked, still fiddling with a strand of Scully’s hair. He genuinely wanted to know when the last time his colleague, whom he’d always thought of as relatively straight-edged and disciplined, had gone off on a kinky escapade.

“Hm. Probably college.” It was true, Scully had not been as adventurous in her sex life after graduating. She’d always chalked it up to maturing past the phase of wanting to try everything the world of sex had to offer. However, she now believed it was because she hadn’t met someone who made her want to be playful and adventurous with her sex life. As soon as Mulder came into her life, the fantasies of doing anything more than basic missionary or doggy had come back with a vengeance.

Mulder chuckled, tilting Scully’s chin up so she looked at him with those pretty blue eyes.

“I wish I’d known you in college. We could have been doing things like this a lot sooner.”

#fox mulder #dana scully #mulder x scully #mulder and scully #fox mulder smut #scully x mulder #scully x mulder smut #scully x mulder fanfic #scully smut #mulder smut #the x files #the x files fanfic #the x files smut #smut #msr fanfic #msr smut

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dunhamhairograpy · 2 years

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Plus One Script: Scully afterglow ☀️🍆

Scully "You can't steal my sunshine."

#plus one #xfiles #thexfiles #xf bts #gillian anderson #mulder #david duchovny #scully #mulder and scully #dana scully #msr #msr for life #msr smut #msr edit #msr fanfic #season 11

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soft-thrills · 2 years

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Intrusive Thoughts

For the @xfpornbattle prompt: “Scully holding/squeezing Mulder’s hand during orgasm”

Summary: Mulder has an intrusive thought about Scully as she’s hypnotized during The Red and the Black -- and imagines her making those noises in another context. He returns to the thought more than once.

Fic behind the cut! Unbeta’d.

The thought first comes to him as just a flash, for just a second, as they sit on the doctor’s couch in Silver Springs.

Next to him, his partner is breathing heavily. He’s never heard her voice like this, raspy and breathy. He’s never seen her neck arched back, never studied the contracting of her throat as she gasps.

“Oh!” she breathes. “Oh!��

She reaches out for him, fingernails scraping against the hunter green leather of the couch, her pretty, capable fingers curling as if she --

Stop it.

But for just a moment, he can’t help to think of her making these sounds — of her throwing her head back — in response to pleasure, instead of pain.

He takes her hand and holds it, hoping to reassure her. By the time she’s describing the fire, the thought is gone, buried as it should be. She’s describing trauma. It’s wrong.

When it’s over, she looks at him and asks: “You were here the whole time?”

He nods, ashamed.

He keeps it buried for weeks. He tries so hard not to think about it ever again. It’s just an intrusive thought, after all, to use the term he learned back in school. It doesn’t necessarily mean anything about him. It just happens.

And so on a Friday night, on his own leather couch, his cock in his hand, he tries to focus on the woman on his television screen. The woman doesn’t look anything like his partner -- that’s become a self-imposed requirement of his when it comes to choosing a tape from his collection. It’s wrong to think about her. And it’s really wrong to think about the sounds she made on that doctor’s couch, the way her head was thrown back, the way her --

Stop it.

But he can’t. He’s weak. She’s there now, in his mind, in his fantasy, and who is he to turn her away? Who is he to kick her out of bed, or off his couch, even if only in his mind?

I’m sorry, he thinks, with the last grasp of his rational brain, I tried. I’m sure she’d appreciate the effort -- Sorry, Scully, I tried really hard not to reappropriate your traumatic recollections as masturbation material, but I just couldn’t do it.

In his fantasy, she’s in his lap, her legs spread. They’re on his couch, the blue screen at the end of a forgotten and finished movie giving off the only light in the room. Her blouse is unbuttoned. Her skirt hiked all the way up around her waist. Her underwear long ago discarded on his floor.

In his fantasy, he’s the reason she’s making those sounds. He’s slipping a finger, then two, then three inside of her, reveling in the wet heat, anticipating how it will feel when he replaces his fingers with his cock. But the fantasy isn’t really about his pleasure -- it’s about hers.

She makes the sounds he’s committed to memory from the tapes of her hypnosis. The little moans. His fingers slow inside her, and then he takes them away.

“Oh my God,” she whimpers. “I can’t --”

Just the way she said it -- no, stop it, he thinks.

He adds in some new dialogue.

“You can’t what, Scully?” he murmurs into her ear, her hot back resting against his chest. He palms her breasts over her bra as she wriggles against his erection.

“I can’t take anymore teasing, Mulder. Please,” she whimpers.

The tenor of her voice, the little gasps, the desperation, they’re familiar. But here, in his fantasy, she’s writhing with pleasure.

“You want to come?” he asks her, moving a finger to her clit.

She jolts, throws her head back against his chest. He imagines the movement of her neck as she gasps for air, as she swallows, as she says: “Yes, God, Mulder, make me come.”

He slips a finger inside as he works her clit.

“I’m going to make you come, Scully, and then, I’m going to fuck you until you think you can’t take anymore, and make you come again,” he promises her.

“Oh,” she whimpers as his fingers move faster.

Her eyes are closed, and she gropes blindly to find his free hand.

She clutches his hand in hers, and she comes, shaking and moaning his name.

As fantasy Scully — perfect, pure — comes in his mind, real life Mulder — guilty, ashamed — comes in his hand, alone, thinking of her.

He stuffs it away, in a corner of a closet in his mind. It’s something he mostly forgets, and then stumbles into, unexpectedly, now and then. When he’s imagining her bent over his desk, or in his mysteriously delivered water bed with the mirrored canopy, or in a dirty motel after a draining case, he’ll realize the sounds his Imaginary Scully is making in his mind aren’t imaginary -- they’re real, lifted from an ugly memory. He always feels bad about it, but it never stops him from coming, which makes him feel worse about it. It doesn’t happen a lot. But it happens.

Eventually, Scully isn’t strictly imaginary. Eventually, she winds up in his bed, on his couch, in her bed, on her floor, all sorts of places -- for real.

He doesn’t need to imagine how she’ll sound in a moment of pleasure, or to reappropriate a moment of horror to hear it in his mind -- because he’s heard it, for real. Those are the memories he comes to revisit in his mind on the nights he is alone, when she’s beyond the connecting door, or across town at her apartment. The box is stuffed further into that closet in his mind, at the back of a high shelf, cobwebbed.

Until.

Until one day, they’re on his couch, and he realizes, with a start, that they’re in the same position as his fantasy. She’s in his lap, he’s teasing her, she’s moaning, she’s panting, calling out to her God in frustration and desperation when he pulls back.

As he draws back in, she grips his hand, tight. And he remembers.

This, he thinks, this is the real deal. He thought he knew back then -- he thought what was on that tape of her hypnosis session was how she’d sound.

But the real thing was different. Yes, there was desperation in her moans and cries. But there was also joy, and a sense of comfort and safety that had been totally absent during her hypnosis session, and as such, absent in the fantasy he’d drawn from it.

“Yes,” she pants. “I’m so close. Don’t stop.”

His big hand squeezes her smaller one. He feels an overwhelming desire to keep her safe -- even from his own dirty mind.

“I’ve got you, Scully,” he murmurs into her ear. “I’ve got you.”

“Oh, Mulder,” is all she says in reply before she comes, clutching his free hand for dear life.

He never thinks of the hypnosis session again.

author’s note: I mean come on, I’m not the only pervert whose mind goes there during that scene, right?

#my fic #xfiles fan fiction #xf fanfic #xf fic #msr fanfic #msr fic #msr smut #xfiles smut

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scullysexual · 5 months

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m | ao3 | @today-in-fic

Mulder grasps at her hips, turning her onto her stomach. As he does so he sees the red snake and a flash of anger surges through him stopping his movements. The bastard tattoo… [In which Mulder and Scully have a little chat]

I Liked It But I Didn't Enjoy It.

No one gives head like Scully. Not Alex or Phoebe. Not even that girl he met a few weeks ago.

Mulder resurfaces from sleep just before the familiar tug in his balls as his come ripples through his cock and spurting down her throat. What a glorious way to be woken up.

Mulder lays back, eyes closed, breathing heavily as he lets himself calm down. When he reopens his eyes he catches the sight of Scully wiping the corners of her mouth before stretching her deliciously naked body, lost in Scully-Land.

He's missed this so much. Missed her so much. His chest aches thinking about those weeks without her. He was an idiot.

He’s still gazing at her even as he grabs her attention with a simple “Hi.”

The smile she gives him is enough to make his body combust right there.

“Hi,” she greets back.

An idiot he may have been but even he can’t ignore their break apart has done them some good.

“Come here,” he whispers and Scully follows, crawling back up his body to situate herself on top of his stomach. His skin feels moist and when she moves slightly he spies a smearing of wetness. His hands grip the top of her thighs.

“And what’s got you so wet, Scully?” he asks.

His hand reaches out towards her centre, a singular finger delving between her folds. A heavy sigh escapes her lips as her muscles clench around his one finger.

“My cock just tastes that good, huh?”

A thumb touches her clit and she whines, clawing at his chest.

Fully hard once more, he pulls his hand away much to Scully’s disappointment and rolls them over. Completely, wonderfully overwhelmed he buries his face in her hair and ruts his hips against her. He wants her in every which way possible, wants to be inside her before he dies.

Mulder grasps at her hips, turning her onto her stomach. As he does so he sees the red snake and a flash of anger surges through him stopping his movements.

The bastard tattoo…

“I think I saw Scully in the tattoo shop the other night,” Langly had told him a few days after. “She had some random man with her. What the hell happened between you to?”

“…was gloating about how he fucked your girl the other night.” Alex says over the phone one night. “He said he’s never met anyone else like her before. How wild she was, how good she at giving head- we both know that though, don’t we…” His laugh twists Mulder’s gut. “Still swears he won’t touch used goods though he’d always make the exception for her again.” When Mulder didn’t answer Alex asked, “You good, man? You gone quiet over there…”

Eventually Mulder had given in to temptation and stalked the man and what a lowlife he turned out to be.

“What you doing with someone like that, Scully?” he’d muttered to himself.

“Mulder? Are you okay?”

His stillness had caught the attention of Scully. There’s the look of worry and guilt across her face. Without a word Mulder slides his hand across the silky skin before pushing his fingernails into the tattoo. Scully’s breath catches in her throat.

“Got something to feel guilty about, Scully?”

She immediately schools her features. “No.”

Mulder looks down at the tattoo and releases his hand, soothing the nail marked skin.

“Ask,” Scully is saying still looking towards him. “Go on. I know you want to.”

He keeps his gaze on her tattoo, following the circle with his finger.

“Where—”

“On one condition,” she cuts in.

“Yeah?”

“I get to ask about you after.”

He thinks on it for a second then, “Okay.”

“Okay,” she repeats. “Ask.”

Eyes falling back to the tattoo, he does ask.

“Where did you do it?”

“On the floor. His apartment.”

We did it in the alleyway, we’re still winning.

“Was he rough?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you like it?”

When she doesn’t answer immediately he squeezes her hip hard making her draw a gasp.

“You know I did,” she says finally.

He thinks about other stuff to ask but she speaks again.

“But I didn’t enjoy it.”

“Huh?”

“I did like it. It did stuff to me and I didn’t want him to stop but I didn’t enjoy it.” She pauses and Mulder waits. Finally she speaks again. “He hated me.” It’s spoken at a whisper, hard to catch at first. “Like you hate me now.”

His stomach coils. “Scully…” he says, panic gripping him. “I don’t hate you.”

His words have her turning to face him and one look at her tearful eyes and tear-stained cheeks has him disgusted with himself.

“Really?” she asks.

“Hey…” He moves off her to the side, moving up and stroking her back soothingly. “Of course not. Do you think you’d be here right now if I did?” She shrugs. “Well you’re here, aren’t you?” She nods. “There you go.” He brushes her hair away from her face a few times. “You’re infuriating sometimes but I don’t hate you, Scully. You’re the best thing I have.”

She smiles a little at that. “Mulder?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you fuck me like you were going to?”

“You sure?”

She nods. “Yeah.”

He shuffles back between her legs, grabs her hips and rolls her back onto her back. It’s not exactly what he had in mind before seeing the tattoo but he knows he has to see her face right now. There’ll be more times for other positions later anyway. He lines himself up and pushes his way in. Whilst she’s not as wet as she was prior their conversation there is little resistance. He laces their hands together and squeezes, trying with everything he had to show he doesn’t hate her in the slightest.

When they’re both finished he holds her as close and as tight as possible. They’re just about to drift off when he realises he never fulfilled his end of the bargain.

“You can ask about her if you want,” he says.

“Who?”

“The girl I fucked.”

“Oh. Who was she?”

“Her name was Kristen. I think she’s a vampire.”

“Vampires aren’t real, Mulder.”

“Well she was one. Anyway, I liked it but I didn’t enjoy it either.”

“Why not?”

“Because she wasn’t you.”

And that was the end of that. No more was said on either subject. Mulder waits until Scully’s drifted off before he closes his eyes himself.

#the x-files #the x files #txf fic #xfiles fanfiction #80 days of smut #smut prompts #kinktober23 #msr #mulder/scully #scullysexualwrites

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