#xf smut

[thetriumphantpanda]

Come Away With Me | Joel & Tommy Miller (The Epilogue)

Summary | A final visit to our favourite family.

Word Count | 1.6K

Chapter Warnings | Consumption of food, allusions to smut, brief talk of difficult pregnancy, family dynamics, lots of fluff & a little surprise for you in this.

Authors Note | Well, I can't believe I'm about to say this, but we made it! Trial & Error Season 2 is complete, which marks the end of the line for my favourite threesome and their family. I firstly wanted to say thank you to each & every one of you for continuing to support this story and me. I never dreamt that you would love these three as much as I love them, and I will always be eternally grateful to this story for helping me through some tough times this year. I hope you love this ending as much as I do, and if you, I'd love to hear from you. Please always feel like you can scream at me in my inbox, and reblogs & comments also really help. This isn't it from our fabulous threesome, I have one-shots and ideas to bring to life in the future, but for now, it's adios to Joel, Pretty Girl & Tommy. And, as always, If you want to support me, you can donate to my Ko-Fi.

A reminder that I no longer use taglists - to keep up with my writing, please follow@thetriumphantpandanotifs and turn on notifications to keep up to date.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

The sun is warm but there is a slight breeze that crosses your skin, moves the long grass on the ground and rustles the trees. The summer has been hot, but it’s moving into time of year where it cools a little, isn’t so stifling that it makes you want to tear your skin off or spend all your time in an ice bath. 

You smile, watching not one, but two young children, just after their second birthday’s, sit in the grass and play together. Twins. Two baby girls. Your heart is full. Your soul is full. Your family is complete in a way you never thought it would be. Sitting on the porch, mug of coffee in hand, you can see the broad expanse of a man walking towards you. The sun is blocking his features from view, framing him perfectly in light. You’d know that outline anywhere. Joel. 

“How are my girls?” He smiles, bending down and placing one of his palms on the back of Ava’s head, the other hand holding one of the toys up for Addie to take hold of in her little hand. 

He stands again, walking up onto the porch to where you’re sat. He dips to kiss your forehead, then, when you tilt your head to him, he presses a kiss to your lips too, “And how is my pretty girl?” 

“I’m good,” You smile, snaking your hand around the back of his neck to pull him into another kiss, “Worked hard?” You ask once you’ve pulled away, letting him sit next to you on the porch bench. 

“Can you not tell?” He chuckles, pulling the rag from his pocket to wipe his brow of sweat. 

You put a palm on his thigh, looking back out onto the land you now call home. It’s vast, fields upon fields of open land. You can see the other house in the distance, the one Tommy and Joshua call home, the one that you spend half of your time in. It’s a pleasant walk between them, one you’ll take tomorrow morning, twins in arm. A ranch. Land bought when you’d found out you were pregnant again, this time with two babies, not one. It's further outside of the city, which you love. Peace and quiet and a wonderful place to raise your children. Joel and Tommy had worked hard throughout the nine months you’d carried Ava and Addie, taking contracting jobs wherever they could find them, squirrelling away enough money to build the life you have now. You’d offered the inheritance money from your parents who had passed away just before you’d met Tommy, which had built the two houses you all called home. Joel has insisted on sheep for the ranch, whilst Tommy had wanted cattle, so they’d compromised and gone with both. 

You hadn’t thought that being the wife of two ranchers would have been something you’d enjoy, but you’d proved yourself wrong. You could take Joshua to school each morning and pick him up each afternoon, you could spend as much time as you wanted with your baby girls, you’d learnt to bake properly, and cook meals for everyone each evening. You would all sit together, eating and drinking into the evening, until you fell into one bed or the other, curled up next to Tommy or Joel, and sometimes even both of them, until you fell asleep and started all over again the next morning. It was the life you loved, and you wouldn’t change it for the world. 

You can see Tommy walking from the other house, Joshua’s hand clutched in his own. He’d taken him out today, let him ride with him on his horse, mostly in an effort to tire him out because at six years old, he was starting to run rings around everyone with his energy. 

You watch as they come into view, Joshua dropping Tommy’s hand when he recognises his baby sisters. He’s always been so gentle with them. He kneels down on the blanket with them, picking up some of the toys in his hands to start playing with them. He hands Ava a small wooden car, and Addie gets one that is slightly bigger that she can’t quite hold properly. He tries to get them to engage in a race but it’s relatively futile, they just giggle at him and wave their arms around. 

You chuckle to yourself as Tommy heads up onto the porch too, he bends to give you a kiss similar to the way Joel had, but leans against the post that connects the porch to the roof that covers it, taking out his own rag to wipe his hands with. You’re about to open your mouth to ask if anyone is hungry, when the front door is ripped open and the newest addition to your family comes bounding out. 

“Didn’t keel over and die today then, old man.” 

You bite back a chuckle, as does Tommy, but Joel doesn’t seem to find it so funny. 

“What have I told you about bein’ rude, Ellie?” 

“I wasn’t being rude,” She shrugs, “I was just being observant.” 

You think you hear him mutter something about her being a little shit under his breath, which of course is no better than her previous comment, but you let it lie, “Anyone hungry?” You ask. 

Everyone agrees, so you push yourself up and head down the steps to pick up Addie. Joel follows behind, taking Ava in his arms, whilst holding his hand out for Joshua to take, walking everyone into Joel’s home, where the pot roast has been cooking for most of the day. 

Ellie hadn’t really been planned. Once the twins had been born, you’d thought that was it. It had been a hard pregnancy, you’d struggled with sickness at first, and then at the sheer amount of extra weight you’d been carrying around. You’d swollen in places you didn’t even know you had, and spent that last month being as still as possible. With the way your relationship had changed, you’d agreed early on that the twins would be as much Joel’s children as they were Tommy’s, but whenever Joel watched you walk away to spend time with his brother, which he didn’t resent in any way, and you took the twins with you, that big ranch house felt awful lonely to him, with Sarah still being away at college. 

He’d shocked you and Tommy when he’d sat you both down and mentioned adoption. Giving a home to someone who needed it. It had more rooms than he knew what to do with, space enough for another child. You don’t think you could have picked someone more perfect for him than Ellie. In some ways, she was the complete opposite of Sarah, but in others, they were very similar. She wasn’t ever going to be a replacement, Sarah still visited often, was still a huge part of everyone’s lives, but she kept him company in those lonely nights, made him laugh, kept him on his toes, and you loved her just as much as if she were your own. She was a love all of Joel's own.

Everyone takes their seat at the table, helps themselves to as much food as they want. Between mouthfuls of your own food, you help Addie eat, with Joel doing the same with Ava. Tommy is helping Joshua, who still doesn’t quite have the hang of how to properly cut things with his knife and fork, and Ellie is talking, mainly at Joel, about what she’d been doing that day. Its domesticity at its best. You and the two men you love with every fibre of your being, your children who you would lay down your life for, including Ellie. Everything you always wanted, all at the same time, no compromises. 

You sit around the table for most of the evening. Ellie helps you put the twins to sleep upstairs when they start dropping off. She knows the dynamic of the family, you’d sat her down one day when Joel and Tommy were out working, fumbling over the words of how to explain exactly how things worked. 

“So, they both love you, and you both love them?” She’d asked, mixing the batter for the cake you were making together, “Sounds cool,” She’s shrugged, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, “Just so long as I don’t ever have to hear what you and my old man get up to.” 

You’d smiled, given her a hug, and promised to keep it down with Joel whenever you were there. It proved to be difficult, that man knowing how to make you cry out and scream whenever he got his hands on you. 

Once Joshua has settled himself on the couch, resting quietly with the TV on in the background, and Ellie has gone to her room to read or whatever else it is she does up there, you reach next to you and take hold of Tommy’s hand. He clutches it right back, with Joel’s arm resting across your shoulders. You look up at Joel, who is smiling softly, with that glint in his eyes that tells you he’s dying to take you upstairs. 

You look Tommy directly in the eye, “Together?” You ask, squeezing his hand. 

“Together.”

And that’s how it is. That’s how it will always be. Some nights spent alone with your men, others spent sandwiched right between them as they take turns making you feel good, coaxing orgasm after orgasm from you until you don’t know who you are or what day of the week it is. And then being able to snuggle into one of them, tonight you know it will be Joel, who will drape his arm over your waist and press his front as close to your back as is humanely possible, with Tommy clutching your hands from the front. Your two men, their girl, and the life you’d risked almost everything to have. 

THE END. 

#Joel Miller #Joel Miller fic #Joel Miller Fanfic #Joel Miller fanfiction #Joel Miller smut #Joel Miller angst #Joel Miller fluff #Joel Miller x you #Joel Miller x reader #Joel Miller x female reader #Joel Miller xF!Reader #Tommy Miller #Tommy Miller fic #Tommy Miller fanfic #Tommy Miller fanfiction #Tommy Miller smut #Tommy Miller fluff #Tommy Miller angst #Tommy Miller x you #Tommy Miller x reader #Tommy Miller x female reader #Tommy Miller x f!reader #The last of us #the last of us hbo #tlou #tlou hbo #the last of us fic #tlou fic #the last of us smut #tlou smut

[elfven-blog]

Deals with the Devil ain't so bad

Summary: Arthur Morgan became the devil's bounty hunter...but god does he miss you fiercly. Ghost Rider!Arthur Morgan x F!Reader CW: MDNI, 18+ Only, p in v, fingers, forest/public, nearly caught, fingers, flames used during. Is this technically monster? Word count: 2.9K

He remembers signing that contract like it was yesterday. Remembers how the wind felt against his breath as he looked at the sun rising, how he struggled to breath, the sound of his own raspy voice shaking as he took what should have been his last breath. How his lungs hurt, and his eyes watered from the realisation that this was it.

Then suddenly there was the man. He stood watching Arthur dying on that mountain, his hands wrapped on his cain and the silver skull glinted in the morning rays. His eyes were cold and his voice worse as he spoke “I can help you” was all he said. The outlaws' eyes flickering to the strange man. The corner of his mouth turned up as he watched the dying man give a small nod, his breaths starting to wheeze.

Echoes of his steps fall around the mountain as he bends at the knee, resting right next to Arthur “I won’t ask you to get up”. He unrolls paper, and places it on the ground next to the outlaw. Arthur see’s something shining in that pale man’s eyes, there’s something wrong with him. But Arthur’s greedy.

He wants another chance at life, he wants to right his wrongs, he wants to see you again. He’s a selfish man, he thinks as his hands struggle to grasp the paper, and he doesn’t even read the contract before he tries to sign his name. The man laughs as Arthur coughs and his blood splatters the page “That’ll do just fine Mr Morgan” and he takes the contract away from him, rolling it back up and sheathing it in a metal cylinder. “When you open your eyes next, you’ll be healthy as a horse”. The man grins before he’s gone, and Arthur’s eyes slipped shut.

And now here he was a year down the line. The devil’s bounty hunter. He’d spent the past year collecting souls and returning them back to hell, never seeing you. He should never have taken that contract, he should have died that day on the mountain. You thought he had, Charles and John thought he had. Even set him up a nice little grave that he’d watched you visit time and time again over the year.

His heart yearned to be near you again, to feel your warmth and your softness beneath his fingers but he refused to let Mephisto know his weakness. So he spent his days wandering the west, the shire he’d gotten from Hosea had become his ride and he went everywhere with Arthur. 

Even right now, here he was in the small town you’d settled in, watching as you brought in the washing. Your head turning up to look at the sky causing your shoulders to sag when you saw the grey clouds hanging overhead. Arthur kept his hat down low so if you happened to look, you wouldn’t see that rugged outlaw you’d lost a year ago.

The rider stood there for a little longer watching you but his sadness quickly turned to jealousy, his gaze dropping from that aching to venom as he watched some man he’d never seen before riding up to your house. The stranger dismounting as he pressed flowers into your hand which you seemed to accept willingly. That smile you reserved only for him was present and all Arthur wanted in that moment was to drag that man down to hell.

It was a few days later when he returned to you, and you were out tending to the small garden you’d managed to maintain. The sky had been clear for some time and he watched you worry your bottom lip between your teeth. You disappeared inside the door for a few seconds before coming back out with a basket, leaving the garden and turning down to walk through the trees that your property backed onto.

Arthur stood up straight, his hand shaking the cigarette and throwing it onto the ground once it was out. He pushed his hat slightly down as he began to walk after you. The outlaw watched you carefully, not showing himself just yet, and fooling himself that he was following you because the forest wasn’t safe. Who knows what was here, you needed that protection.

While he had taught you to use a gun some years ago, that didn’t mean you were any good at it. Least not better than him.

He followed you for a while, you hadn’t even noticed. More reason for him to be accurately worried. And he watched as you bent to pick more flowers, adding them to the already full basket. His brow furrowed as he finally took note of them, originally he thought the book you held was full of the information and pictures of them but now, as he looked closer, he noticed the familiar worn leather. His own journal.

You’d kept it. You’d kept it.

And that seemed to be what made him snap. Your head turning fast at the sound of someone stomping towards you. Hands forcing you to stand up, an arm wrapping around your waist and someone's mouth crashing to yours.. Teeth clashing against your own as your eyes widened and you tried to push this sudden figure off you. Anger filled your mind, until he pulled slightly away from you.

Your eyes still wide as you dropped the basket, shaky hands holding his face gently. One of your fingers gently tracing his face, mouth opening and shutting as you tried to speak.

It was Arthur who spoke first “I missed you darlin’” came that rough timber that you’d spent nights trying to replay in your mind “Missed ya somethin’ fierce”.

You were the one to kiss him this time, pulling him forward so quickly it knocked his hat back but he didn’t care as he kissed you back. Tongue pushing your lips apart so he could explore every inch of your mouth, you didn’t fight it like you normally would. His brow furrowed as he tasted something salty and opened his eyes to see you crying.

He pulled away again, shushing you gently as his thumbs brushed away the tears “I’m sorry, I know baby girl but I’m here now” you buried your face into his neck, breathing in the scent of him. Leather, gunpowder and sandalwood flooded your nose and it felt like you could breathe for the first time in a year. Your hands took the hat from his head completely so you could run your hands through his soft strands, looking up at him in wonder.

“You were gone” Arthur swore he could have fell to his knees right there with the way your voice cracked, he had never meant to cause such pain. Maybe taking that deal wasn’t such a bad thing, if it meant he could hold you like this, if he could hear that sweet melody of your voice.

“Let me make it up to ya” one of his hands slowly moved down from your waist to grab your ass, squeezing it tightly as his mouth crooks up into a grin and your cheeks go red at his insinuation. You try to stammer a reply but he just shushes you again “Come on girl, just lay here and look pretty, alrigh’?”

Those words are all it takes for him to quickly have you on the floor, hiking your skirts up over your waist and Arthur’s quickly pushing his trousers down. The gun belt is somewhere near his hat. His hands are as rough as you remember as he pushes your thighs open, his eyes dark at the sight between them “Hold” comes his gruff voice, and your hands immediately go under your knees to keep yourself held open for him.

The way his eyes watch you sends arousal thrumming through your body and your hole clenches around nothing causing the man above you to roll his neck and breath through his nose. His hands trace down the fat of your thighs before his thumb pushes against your clit and he slowly circles it “Missed me that much, sugar?”

You can only nod and grip your legs as he applies more pressure “I missed you so much Arthur” he leans down to kiss at your neck, your eyes fluttering and mouth dropping open as his teeth scrape against the skin. His fingers slide down your wet lips, gathering some of it before he gently pushes against your hole. Your body doesn’t deny the man entrance, he meets almost no resistance as he begins to move his fingers in and out, his thumb still rubbing at the sensitive nub.

“Then I won’t tease ya” he mumbles against the pulse in your throat, and you mewl in agreement. He stretches you gently, adding another finger and this causes you to gasp “S’okay darlin’ just been a while, gotta get you ready” your hand moves to the base of his hair, tanging in the strands and tugging to get his face to move up, pressing your lips to his again.

Your legs tremble in your own hold as his fingers press up against the soft spot inside you, the pressure on your clit and the way he kisses you until your breathless has your back arching. His mouth swallows all the sweet noises you give him. 

It doesn’t take long for the man to expertly bring you to that edge, it’s been so long since you felt like this. You’d tried to do it yourself once you’d thought you were done grieving but your own hand just hadn’t been enough. Oh but Arthur’s hand? It knew exactly where to stroke, how fast to go, the right amount of pressure to apply. “That’s it sweetheart, just like that. Such a good girl f’me”

And his words had you going over that edge, your fingers leaving marks on your own skin, your legs trying to close even as you held them open. Arthur’s eyes watching the way your hole tightened around his fingers, slick drooling down to the forest floor as your eyes fluttered shut and you could only whimper and whine at the feeling.

Arthur’s fingers left your cunt leaving you to whine as he shushes you, his hands making quick work to pull his trousers half way down his thighs, enough to bring his cock out of his underwear. The fabric pressed just under his balls. Your eyes gravitated there, tracing the hard dick he sported. 

You couldn’t tear your gaze away, his own hand barely able to wrap around it as he pumped a few times, his head tipping back with a groan and his cock jumped at the action. Arthur stroked the head against your folds, the precum oozing from the slit and coating your pussy as he gathered the wetness. You pouted up at him, trying to roll your hips up against him and Arthur raised an eyebrow.

His free hand moving to pin your body down as he threatened “Have I gotta crush you to floor, girl?” his tone let you know not to do that again, and your entire body relaxed against the leaves and sticks as he finally pushed into your hole. A gasp leaving you, and he stilled with just the tip inside as he let you get used to the feeling again.

Both of you tensed at the sound of your name being yelled through the forest, seeming to echo as someone called your name and suddenly Arthur’s loving exterior was gone. Your hands let go of your legs and you sat up to push him off you “Oh oh, we got to stop” but the outlaw only pushed you back to the floor, his body weight on you as he pushed the rest of his cock inside you.

“We ain’t gotta do nothing. You gotta lay here and take it” Your eyes widened, you’d never seen him like this before, but as Arthur started to buck his hips up against you, you could only do as he said. Your arms wrapping around his shoulders and clinging to the back of his jacket, his own hands gripping your thighs this time to keep them open. His fingers dimpling the fat as he almost seemed in a frenzy to fuck you.

You couldn’t see his face, but you heard the grunts and growls as his hips humped at you, his cock stretching you out over and over as he used your cunt. The yelling of your name got louder before fading away, the person walking in a different direction “He couldn’t do ya ike this, nah, he aint the type to give you what ya need darlin’”. You had no idea what he was talking about, brow furrowing but you couldn’t focus on one single thought. Not with the way his fingers bruising your thighs as the head bruised your cervix.

And then, all of a sudden, you felt very hot. Your eyes shot open as you watched flames engulf Arthur. His hands burning at your skin and as you looked down all you saw were bones gripping at your thighs “W-what?” you whispered out, your body tensing and Arthur froze too.

His mind went blank as he realised what had happened, and he stammered and stuttered as he tried to think of something to say “Darlin’ I, well, er” Your hand moved to touch the skeleton fingers, and they seemed to change back into his own fingers. And then you realised the flames didn’t really hurt. They were just hot.

Arthur’s eyes widened as he felt your hole clench around him, and it caused him to groan as he thrust into you again. Calming enough that he could morph back into your loving cowboy, his hands gripping your thighs again as he set back into his brutal “Ya like that, dont ya, sugar?” his voice dripped in arousal as he continued the assault on your cunt. This time his touch was accompanied with the flames you seemed to find fascinating. He watched you nod up at him, that devious grin charming up his face.

He brought one of his hands up to your corset, setting it on fire and you gasped as it turned to ash, blowing away in the wind. Mouth going dry as he teased at your hardened nipple, the flame licking at the bud but never burning you. And your hips rolled up forcing more of his cock into you, and your back arched pressing his hand against your breast again. “yeah you like it” came his deep timbre again.

With the added touch of his flames against your skin now, it was easy to get you back into that syrupy head space allowing Arthur to fuck you against the forest floor as he humped into your cunt, his cock dragging along your g-spot in the most delicious way. His words slipping into your ears as he brought you closer and closer to that edge again, his hand making it’s way down your body, burning the pieces of clothing that stopped its path before it could press against your clit.

Your entire body thrummed as he applied some of that heat while he circled your clit, your cunt starting to ache from how he used you and a whimper leaving your mouth as you soaked the floor and Arthur’s pants. He pressed closer to you until you could feel his shirt against your face, his hips keeping your legs apart while his hands moved to grab at the floor. Trying to keep himself grounded as he slowed down his pace “Fuck darlin’!” his voice rang out as you came undone around him.

His eyes rolling as his cock twitched, hot ropes of cum painting your walls white and he stayed as close as possible as his hips rolled and pressed you into the floor. His hands grasped around dirt and leaves as he filled you. “Forgot how good that feels” the outlaws voice was a raspy pant as he breathed heavily above you.

And you both stayed there for a few minutes, until his cock had softened inside you and he pulled out slowly, his hands soothing at your thighs while he shushed you. Your body tensing at the ache between your thighs, and little whimpers left you as he pulled out “I know, I know, ‘m sorry” came the once again gentle Arthur. The one you knew.

As you slowly blinked, trying to gain control over your breathing again, you moved your hand to touch his face. Brow furrowing as you tried to make sense of what you had seen. Not only was the man you loved back from the dead…but he seemed to be some kind of fire skeleton. Confusion swarmed your mind.

The rough man pressed a kiss to your palm, his hand moving to take your own off his face as he gave you a shy smile, his gaze full of concern and something else. Something that seemed awfully similar to that look when he was self-conscious all those years ago “I can explain”

You nodded up at him, looking at him expectedly as he began to explain what had happened. And while it didn’t all make sense to you, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was you had Arthut back. Whether he was tethered to this ‘Ghost Rider’ demon or not.

#arthur morgan x femalereader #arthur morgan x reader #arthurmorgan #Arthur morgan xF!reader #arthur morgan x fem reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader smut #ghost rider!arthur morgan #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 smut #rdr2 x f!reader

[bakedbakermom]

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

[dunhamhairograpy]

'Never Again' revised script notes.... Mulder's inner monologue 😭💕

Her life has become his.

There it is. Definitive.

#never again #xfiles #thexfiles #xf bts #gillian anderson #mulder #david duchovny #mulder and scully #scully #dana scully #msr #season 4 #msr fanfic #msr smut #msr for life #x files #fox mulder #ed jerse #msr edit #xf edit #xfedit #the xfiles #xf

[phillippadgettwrites]

The First Time, Every Time: Eve

Rated X / 2567 words / Posted on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

She feels like a world class idiot, partly due to being manipulated by a pair of homicidal eight year olds. But they managed to pull one over on everyone—including their own parents—so she can’t hold herself too much at fault there. What’s really bothering her is that she knew, or at least had her suspicions, that something was off with the girls, and she let her guard down anyway. She ignored her instincts, and it nearly got both her and Mulder killed. 

She sinks down onto the bed in her motel room and rubs her hands roughly over her face, cringing at the memory of how stupid she was. How naive. How uncharacteristically girlish. Allowing herself the tiny thrill of playing house with Mulder while the Eves were under their watch backfired gloriously, and as intelligent as the children are she has to imagine that was their intent. They capitalized on the vulnerability they saw in their adult escorts, stopping just short of directly calling them Mom and Dad, and it had worked so well it almost landed her in the autopsy bay. If a couple of prepubescent psychopaths can see it, it must be fairly obvious that she has a teensy little crush on Mulder. Hell, he’s a behavioral profiler, so it must be obvious to him, too. 

It’s not that she has any illusions that something might happen between them, and she honestly wouldn’t even want it to. They’re completely incompatible, and that’s to say nothing for the potential impact to her career were she to act on her urges. But he’s cute, and he only got cuter when he was playing the role of doting father, ushering his gaggle of girls into the truck stop for a bathroom break and a soda. Maybe she flirted a little, and maybe he flirted back, and those damn Eves saw right through them. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. 

She knows that it’s Mulder knocking on her door, and she briefly considers pretending that she’s not in. But it’s late—or early, depending how you look at it—and he has the keys to the rental, so where else would she be? She hauls herself up off the bed and reluctantly opens the door just wide enough for him to see her face. 

“Soda?” he asks, holding up a can of Diet Rite from the vending machine. “Factory sealed for your safety,” he adds, wiggling the can temptingly. 

She smirks, despite her best attempts to suppress it, and opens the door the rest of the way. Mulder walks in and sets the soda down in front of the TV, along with a second that he fishes out of the pocket of his suit jacket, and gives her an appraising look. 

“Wild night, huh?” he says, popping the tab on one of the cans.

An hour ago she was sure she’d never drink soda again, but the crack and hiss of the can opening sets off a Pavlovian response, making her mouth water. Mulder hands it to her and she takes an experimental sip. Not too sweet. 

“That’s one way of putting it,” she says. 

She sits on the end of the bed and he plops down beside her, close enough that his thigh brushes up against hers before he scoots millimeters away. He has a particular end-of-day smell that’s becoming familiar to her: remnants of cologne and deodorant, and the damp salted musk of sunflower seed hulls that line the bottom of his jacket pocket. She has an overwhelming urge to lean into him, but she doesn’t. 

“You okay?” he asks, and she looks up at him sharply, wondering what he sees that she hadn’t meant to show him.

“Yes,” she says, perhaps a little too emphatically. “I was just thinking about Cindy Reardon’s mother. I have no idea how we’re going to explain this to her.”

“You don’t think she knew?” he wonders aloud. “Maybe on some subconscious level?”

Scully shrugs and looks at the floor. 

“That little girl was the embodiment of all her hopes and dreams,” she says sadly. “Even if she knew something was off, she probably explained it away. I know I did.”

She feels him looking at her, but she keeps her eyes on the faded paisley carpet under her feet. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she says, pulling in a deep breath, “that I knew something was off about the girls, but I attributed it to the recent trauma they’d been through. I allowed my preconceptions about what innocent-looking eight year old girls are capable of to override my instincts, with nearly disastrous results.”

He bumps his shoulder against hers and she looks up at him to find a deliciously boyish smile on his face. 

“Don’t go stealing all the credit, Scully,” he says, leaning in. “I demand that my contributions to the truck stop disaster be accounted for.”

His breath smells sweet and his cheeks are becoming rough with stubble. She smiles, and his smile broadens in response. He really is very charming, and she doesn’t get the sense that it’s disingenuous. 

“And which contributions were those?” she asks cheekily. 

“Well, for starters, slapping that soda out of your hand,” he says ruefully. “Not my smoothest move.”

“Fair enough, though in any future circumstances where you see me actively drinking poison, you have my blessing to slap it out of my hand,” she counters. 

“Actually,” he says, sitting up, “I think my real mistake was saying I wanted to open your door for you. Way too unbelievable; even eight year olds know that chivalry is dead.”

She studies the side of his face while he takes a long drink of his soda, trying to decide if he’s being facetious. 

“You’re actually quite chivalrous, Mulder,” she says, careful with her tone so that he doesn’t think she’s teasing him. “You open doors for me all the time. The only odd thing about it was announcing your intention to do so across a parking lot.”

He gives her a long sideways glance that sets off a nervous flutter in her belly, though she couldn’t say why. 

“Does that bother you?” he asks, genuine concern in his voice. “Is it too patriarchal?”

“No,” she says immediately, and she can instantly see relief in his face. “Maybe it would if I felt like you didn’t respect me, or saw me as inferior, but you’ve never made me feel that way.”

She watches him fight off a prideful little smile before he lifts his soda can and hides it behind a drink. When he lowers the can back to his lap, his mouth is arranged into a neatly neutral expression. 

“Can I confess something?” he asks, his eyes flitting between her face and the wall behind her.

Her stomach does a backflip and her mouth goes dry. She takes a drink of her soda before answering

“Sure.”

“When we were with the Eves, I kept thinking about Samantha,” he says, pausing to gauge her reaction. She’s surprised, though she shouldn’t be; the Eves are eight, the same age Samantha was when she was taken. She smiles at him sadly, and he lowers his head. “It probably contributed to me not picking up on some red flags,” he continues. “I think I was having a little too much fun with it.”

She can’t allow him to wallow in his shame alone, as much as it terrifies her to consider admitting to her own flights of fancy regarding Mulder, herself, and a couple of kids. She slides one hand over his back and gives him a reassuring pat. 

“It was kind of fun,” she admits. “Until it wasn’t, anyway. And you were really good with them, Mulder.”

When he lifts his head to look at her, his face is much closer to hers than she was prepared for, and she resists the urge to move away. His eyes lock on hers and her heart picks up a little, anticipating something. 

“You really think so?” he asks, his eyes narrowing in self-doubt. 

Scully swallows and nods. 

“Yeah,” she says, but her voice comes out in a barely audible rasp. 

Two beats pass. Three. It starts to become awkward. It feels like they’re waiting for something, but neither of them appears to know what. By the fourth beat it’s unbearable and she looks away, withdrawing her hand from his back. 

“I should let you go,” she says, her entire body humming. 

“You kicking me out?” he asks playfully. “You have a boy coming over?”

She looks at him sharply. 

“What? No,” she says insistently, finding herself extremely bothered by the idea that he’d think that. 

Mulder laughs and shakes his head as he stands, tossing his empty soda can into the wastebasket and then holding his hand out to her. Slowly, cautiously, she slips her hand into his. For a second he doesn’t do anything, but then his fingers close around hers and he pulls her up in one sharp tug, and she lets out a surprised squeal just before the front of her body crashes into his. She wraps her other arm around his waist to avoid losing her balance, the half-empty soda can still in her hand, and then looks up at his face. 

He’s smirking devilishly, his hooded eyes full of mischief, and she suddenly feels like prey that’s fallen into his trap. The rational part of her mind is warning her to put a stop to this immediately, but she’s too hypnotized by the hungry way he’s looking at her to move. They’re pressed together from chest to pelvis, though their height difference means that his belt buckle is digging into her belly button, his groin bracketed by her hip bones. 

“I was just offering to take your can,” he says, a little bit sheepishly, and Scully feels the hot rush of embarrassment flood through her veins. Too ensnared to quickly get away, she drops her forehead against his chest to hide her face. 

“Oh,” she says, her eyes screwed shut tight and her mouth grimacing. “Sorry.”

She feels the vibration of Mulder’s chuckle in her skull, and then his hand running from between her shoulder blades to the small of her back. She shivers involuntarily, and he pulls her increments closer. 

“Don’t be,” he says, the pitch of his voice deeper than moments before. 

He doesn’t let go, and neither does she. Their joined hands are still pinned between the front of her shoulder and his rib cage, her soda-carrying arm wrapped around his waist. His hand on her back shifts down a little, and she only realizes that her body has at some point drawn an invisible line that Mulder’s casual touches never cross when he crosses it. She feels her skin tingle just above the crack of her ass, and she slowly lifts her head off his chest. 

His expression is somewhat vacant, his eyes zeroed in on her mouth. She lifts her chin and closes her eyes, allowing herself to believe that she won’t be responsible for what happens next. When she feels the heat of his mouth against hers, she begins to melt and simply doesn’t stop. 

Her body softens and leans into his, her neck bending languidly to the side as his lips warm her skin. She keeps her eyes carefully closed, suspending her own reality and receiving whatever reality this is. The one where a man who she trusts implicitly, who respects her, who looks damn good in a suit and tie, is tugging her blouse out of the waist of her slacks and running his rough fingertips up her bare back. The one where he asks for her consent half a dozen times, and she gives it over and over. The one where he strikes the perfect balance of dominance and deference, where he picks her up like she’s made of air and lays her down on the bed, then turns the lights off without her having to ask. 

It’s not that she has any illusions that it’s more than sex, and she honestly wouldn’t even want it to be. They’re completely incompatible, and that’s to say nothing for the potential impact to her career were she to become entangled in some kind of romantic relationship with her partner. But he’s cute, and he eats pussy like a god, and when she finally gets her hands on his dick she’s unable to stop herself from moaning in anticipation. 

They don’t have a condom, but she’s still on birth control after her breakup with Ethan, and she trusts him to pull out. She also trusts him when he tells her he hasn’t been with anyone in years, that he’s been tested. She trusts him with her body, her life. She trusts him more than she’s ever trusted any man she’s allowed inside her. 

He stretches her wide and she gasps from the pain, her fingernails digging into his shoulder. He stops, waiting until he feels her relax, and then rocks his hips slowly as she adjusts to him. She can’t comprehend how instinctively he touches her, how well he seems to know her body after such a brief introduction. He teases her to the edge and back more times than she can count until she finally shatters into a fit of gasps and wails, every cell in her body taking part in her orgasm. He pulls out of her sharply, the thick head of his cock brushing against the sensitive nerve endings around her opening and setting her off again as she feels the wet heat of his cum streaking across her belly. He slumps down beside her and they catch their breath in the murky dark, still too hopped up on dopamine to consider the impact of what they’ve just done. 

Eventually, Mulder feels his way into the bathroom for a towel, but instead of handing it to her he presses it between her legs, gently swiping up and then mopping his semen off her belly. It’s so tender, it catches her off guard, and she suddenly worries whether this means something to him that she’s not ready for. 

“Mulder—” she starts, but he lays a heavy hand on her naked hip to quiet her. 

“It’s okay,” he says, not sounding nearly as concerned as she does. “Wild night.”

Scully heaves a relieved sigh, nodding in the dark. 

“Yes. Wild night,” she agrees. 

He waits until she’s dressed to turn on the bedside lamp, and they both squint as their eyes adjust. He’s still shirtless, his pants on but unbuttoned, and she’s surprised to feel her clit throb at the sight of him. He smiles at her fondly, plucking her soda can off the floor and tossing it into the trash can with his. 

“See you tomorrow?” he asks, pulling on his undershirt. 

“Yep,” she says. 

It’s a little bit awkward, but not as much as she would have thought. 

She sits on the bed as she watches him leave, precluding an attempt at a goodnight kiss, and he pauses halfway through the door, looking back at her expectantly. 

“What?” she asks, a flush of worry making her belly tighten. Maybe this was a mistake. 

“You were really good with them too. The Eves, I mean,” he says, a nervous smile on his mouth. “You’re a natural.”

“Thank you, Mulder,” she says, feeling her cheeks warm. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he says, and then he is gone. 

#x files fanfic #the x files #xf fic #xf fanfic #dana scully #fox mulder #smut #xfiles #the xfiles

[fine-nephrit]

🥏 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

[soft-thrills]

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

[tadpolesonalgae]

Gwyn x f!reader: devotion[*]

Summary: you and Gwyn have been emotionally involved with one another for a while, neither of you have yet taken that step to form a physical connection. Yet.

Warnings: smut, face sitting, pussy eating, 69-ing, mentions of squirting

It starts with the two of you planning to spend the night to review some scrolls, but as the night wares on your guards fall, beginning to relax into one another until you’re practically draped across her lap, lying on your stomach while she attempts to read through one of the sacred scripts.

You shift to get more comfortable, hips wiggling as the material of your robe raises to your upper thighs. Gwyn’s sure that if she were stood behind you she would be blessed with an unobscured view of your underwear.

The last straw is when you yawn, stretching your arms before you shift to your hands and knees, showing off the muscle in the backs of your thighs. You yawn again, arms stretching to the air as her eyes lap up your form: the swell of your breasts beneath the robes, the plump roundness of your ass, the plush skin of your thighs. She swallows.

“I think you should go to bed, now,” she manages, the scroll discarded thoughtlessly. Her breath catches as you swing a leg over her lap, settling down comfortably as you lazily drape yourself over her body, pushing against her until she loses balance, toppling back onto the floor of her bedroom. Heat flushes her cheeks as she feels your soft form pressing against her own, fire warming in her lower belly.

Hesitantly, her hands positions themselves on your waist. She doesn’t really know what to do. She doesn’t want to push you off for fear of hurting you - the floor is wooden - but she knows her scent will betray her if you’re allowed to stay settled. Gwyn’s body tenses as you nose her collar bone, heart pounding in her chest.

She inhales heavily, attempting to calm herself but instead your scent is like a kick to the stomach. Her breath catches at the distinct flavour of arousal permeating the air. “Gwyn,” you sing song sleepily, pushing up until you’re seated over her hips. She notes your eyes are clear of fatigue, wide open and sparking with mischief. She swallows as she realises what you’ve been doing.

You peer down at her, cheeks heated while her hair is splayed across the floor, “you okay with this?” You murmur softly, hands set on either side of her pretty face. Her eyes trace your features, desire twining with heat as they drop to your mouth, her hands still perched on your hips. She nods, fingers pressing a little harder through your robes, “yeah,” she breathes, “just…” she looks away and you wait patiently, “can I…” You tilt your head, curious.

She sets her gaze on yours firmly, a flush coating her cheeks as she opens her mouth, “I, uh, I want to be on top.” She swallows as she gets the admission out in the open, waiting for your reaction.

You grin, excitement sparking and you shuffle off her lap, kneeling by her side as she sits up, “and we can stop at any time,” you add softly as her hands cup your jaw. You make sure she’s looking into your eyes, “any time, Gwyn. Just say the word and we’ll stop, okay?” She smiles, “right back at you.” Then she’s kissing you softly, lips moving over one another seamlessly, pressing here and there as her hands land on your shoulders.

“Bed,” you mumble through the feverish kisses, “it’ll be nicer on the—” Her tongue shoves into your mouth, her hands sliding down to your waist as she pulls you upright. The two of you stumble, too preoccupied with one another to pay attention to your surroundings as you scramble onto her bed.

“Gwyn,” you pant as she pushes you down gently, “I want you, too.” Your arms are slung over her shoulders, pulling desperately, “fuck, I want to taste you so bad,” you plead against her lips, your eyes squeezing shut at the thought of having her seated atop your mouth.

Her breathing becomes heavier at the confession, her hand cupping your jaw, “you want me on your mouth, honey? Want to take me while I take you?” You nod frantically, panting as your back arches, pressing your breasts to hers. There would be time for teasing on a separate occasion. Right now you need one another, need to feel the hot brush of skin against skin. It’s been so long since either of you had been afforded that comfort.

She kisses you once more before she pulls away, shifting as she throws a leg over you and already you’re gripping her hips, needfully tugging her toward your face. She chuckles, “slow down, my robes are in the way.”

“Damn the robes,” you pant, hands shoving the offending material up over her thighs. You moan as you set your eyes on her, perfect and wet.

Gwyn laughs at your frenetic movements, “I don’t think you’re supposed to utilise curse words as a priestess.” Your hands roam over the plumpness over her ass, spreading her as you lift your head, pressing into her heat as she moans at the abrupt pleasure. “As a priestess, I know the Mother willed you to be here.” You deliver an open mouthed kiss to her clothed cunt, “and I’m certain with the amount of worship I’m about to give you, she won’t mind one bit.” You thumb away the damp slip of fabric, immediately latching your mouth onto her, tongue lapping greedily at her as she pushes back against you.

Her hands scramble through the layers of your own robes, pushing and shoving at them until they’re spooled around your belly. “Goodness,” she breathes reverently, cupping you as your hips buck. “How can you be so pretty?” She pants, thumbing at your clit, making you whine. She leans back onto your face, pressing you into the mattress as she sits, her middle and forefinger running up and down over your pussy.

With trembling hands, she pushes the fabric aside, moaning as her eyes attach to your sex. The scent is overpowering, arousal roiling throughout her bedroom as she drops her mouth to you, tongue licking over your clit then moving down to your entrance, both of you locked into a hazy madness, intent on taking everything until there’s no difference between you, until you blend to one.

Your mouth moves to her clit, suckling eagerly as one of her hands wraps around your thigh, spreading you wider for her. She needs to have all of you, right now. Neither of you can stand the thought of stopping your frenzied coupling.

Your beloved female pulls away to coat her fingers, circling your entrance before gently pushing in, pulling out, pressing further and she’s rewarded with a loud moan, your mouth working harder to please her. “Gwyn,” you pant, heat coiling in the pit of your belly as her nimble fingers fill you up, her lips suckling your clit. “Gwyn please.”

She moans onto you, your desperate pleas bringing her close to her peak. Flame ignites her body as she winds her hips over you, grinding against your tongue as it presses inside her, the sensation mouth-watering in its eroticism. “Go on,” she laughs, pressing her fingers deep into you, the heel of her palm rubbing over your clit, “I want to see how pretty you look when you come on my fingers.” She smiles in delight as your hips buck greedily. “You’re going to taste so good,” she moans, reattaching her mouth to your clit as she feels you fluttering around her, hips undulating.

The sensations send her spiralling, unravelling on your mouth as she gushes. Moans fill the room as you drink her in, tongue soothing over her clit in time with the now gentle pumps of her fingers, guiding one another down from your highs.

You lap over her entrance, pressing your face into her slick heat as she rides out her orgasm. You never want to leave her. Even as your highs fade into calming thrums of euphoria, you keep her seated on your mouth, licking and kissing all of her, devout in your ministrations.

She shifts, attempting to pull away from you but you whine, hands latching over her hips to keep her mounted atop your lips. She releases an adoring laugh, “you need to breathe at some point.” She laughs harder when you shake your head beneath her, tongue swirling over her clit, making her bite her lip.

Steadying herself, she pushes upward, her hands braced softly on your rib cage, fingers playing with your nipples absently. She takes the time to catch her breath, gazing down at your body: how saliva is glossing your pretty thighs, the handprints over your hips, the slick that’s been transferred to your perky nipples as she pinches them softly; teasing.

You nip at her clit in return, making her whimper and Mother above if it isn’t a sound that could bring you to your knees in an instant. She’s perfect and divine in every sense, from the taste of her orgasm, to the ring of her laugh, to the set of her mouth when she’s concentrating on deciphering a scroll or searching for a manuscript.

If you ever lose her you’ll never forgive yourself.

And if you spend the rest of your life with her, enriching every moment with soft puffs of breath and warm touches, you’ll go to the Mother happy.

Taglist: @myheartfollower

#Gwyn #Gwyn smut #Gwyn x f!reader #acotar smut #gwyneth #gwyneth berdara #xf!reader #June

[i-have-a-wonky-eye-too]

Four Weeks of fun!

Ransom Drysdale x Beautiful

Join Ransom and Beautiful on their vacation full of fun, love, and adventures, from Italy to Las Vegas. With no asshole families around, who knows what these two will get up to. Will we see more of Beautiful's wild child side that only Ransom seems to bring out? Will we see more of Ransom's calm and less compulsive behaviour thanks to Beautiful?

This 'mini series' is a collection of oneshots still apart of Always Meant To Be...

The Start

Naples

If you want to be tagged in this or my other pieces of work, let me know. Also, make sure you have notifications on for me as sometimes I can't always tag people.

@letsdisneythings @smile1318 @readawaythereality @dad-supremedeactivated04291992 @marebare21 @imjustanotherperson @slutforchrisjamalevans @summersong69 @gretavankleep37 @calimoi @noonenuts @nighttimestan @sarahbellesaurus @bloodyinspiredfuck @coffeebooksandfandom @lewisroscoelove @oceansrose2002 @teambarnes72

#chris evans #Ransom Drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader smut #ransom drysdale #Ransom Drysdale x beautiful #Ransom Drysdale xf!reader #Always Meant To Be

[darkesttimelinestuff]

"I don't know if they will accept this."

Prompt #27 - "I don't know if they will accept this."

You can also find my silly or smutty fics here. Thanks for reading!

Scully stared at Mulder in disbelief and blinked as if to make sense of what he was telling her. “We work for the Federal Bureau of Investigation!” she exclaimed. “This has to be a joke. I can’t even begin to imagine what would happen to our jobs, our careers, to the X-Files, if anyone found out about this! I don’t know if they will accept this.”

“Please,” Mulder pleaded, “calm down.”

Scully paced the cramped space of their living room, shaking her head. “This is so irresponsible.”

“I thought it was a good way to make some extra cash. Get us that new boiler we’ve been meaning to install.”

“But like this?” Scully said. “This isn’t the way.”

“No one has to know,” he placated.

Scully stopped pacing and shot him an incredulous look. “And just how will you make sure that no one finds your OnlyFans account?” 

“I make sure to never show my face. The camera angle is low, on my… um… “ He glanced down at his crotch and Scully’s eyes quickly followed.

“On your big, fat cock?” she offered.

“Yeah, on my cock.”

“And what do you do in your videos?” Scully asked, more intrigued than upset now. 

Mulder patted the couch and she sat next to him, rubbing his knee.

“Well, there are subscribers,” he explained, “who can make requests for certain kinds of videos or pictures or livestreams.”

“And you deliver?”

“That’s the idea,” he said.

“How many videos have you made so far?” she asked.

“Two,” he answered honestly. 

Scully pondered this a moment. “I don’t object to your body being out there, viewed by millions of women. And men!”

Mulder laughed. “Well, I don’t know about millions, but there has been some interest.”

“But I’m worried about someone finding out it’s you,” she continued. “Can it be traced back to us? Our house?”

Mulder laid his hand on top of her small one. “Probably,” he said. “But someone would have to know to search. I won’t give anyone a reason to do that. No face, no personal items, no identifying marks.”

This new business venture intrigued Scully. Her own personal porn star right here in her very own house. The idea that people were touching themselves to her partner was so hot, so wild.

“So, could people request a couple?” she asked. 

“Yes, that’s definitely something we can offer,” Mulder said, his smiling growing wide. 

“Because it would be so hot for you to take me from behind,” she said, nipping at his neck, “while others watched.”

“Oh, it certainly would.” He cupped her breasts, kneaded, teased her nipples. “But we’d have to be extra careful.”

Scully sat straight. “Why is that?” she asked. 

Mulder reached up and twisted a lock of her hair, touched the small of her back.

“Identifying marks,” she said and Mulder nodded. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s get started!”

Mulder fondled her breasts over her shirt as Scully unbuttoned her pants.

#the x files #xf fictober23 #fictober23 #fictober 2023 #txf #scully #mulder #thexfiles #dana scully #the x-files #msr #mulder and scully #fox mulder #my fic #fiction #the xfiles #mulderxscully #scully and mulder #smut #pwp #ao3 link #ao3feed #ao3 #ao3 writer #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #archive of our own #ao3 stuff #xfiles fanfic

[cock-holliday]

Softly, Softly Now

Fandom: TXF

WC: 982

Mulder loved to make Scully laugh. It was a beautiful sound. Rich and clear. Sometimes it was just a little snort; a taste of victory. Sometimes, though, she’d toss her head back, the sound ripping out heartily in an uproarious gust. It was exciting to pull such a noise from his partner.

He felt the same way about making her moan.

Scully was self-contained, poised. Mulder was aware plenty of people didn’t see it as a talent, condemning her to frigidity and a reputation as uptight. If they could only see her on his mattress, spread and loose and uninhibited.

There was no mistake, Scully often liked to be in charge. She made her wants and needs known, and Mulder was happy to provide. Sometimes, though, Scully could barely form words; her only communication the guttural sounds escaping her lips and the movement of her hips.

Sometimes Scully was commanding, sometimes she was needy.

Mulder would gladly take either, but whichever mood struck the day, he liked her loud.

Writhing under him, grinding in his lap, clenching around his fingers, bracketing his ears with her thighs–he wanted to hear her moan. Wanted to make her moan.

He wanted his neighbors to complain; wanted hers to know his name.

It got him wild, the sound.

So did all that accompanied it. A desperate look in her eye, if she could even keep them open. The arch of her back. Clenching the sheets tight, clenching him tight, gripping his hair for stability in her undoing.

But they weren’t at his apartment. Nor hers.

They weren’t in a motel, nor hotel.

They weren’t at the office.

They were in the entryway of their chosen restaurant for the night, past the initial doors, but blocked from entry by a taped sign on the next door declaring the place was closed for renovations. The pair were starving, in the middle of a city they didn’t live in, soaking wet from the rain they had just escaped.

In an instant it seemed, Scully was pressed against the wall, barely visible in the dim streetlight as Mulder kissed down her neck.

Maybe not just from the rain.

Mulder recaptured Scully’s lips, kissing hungrily, no longer craving the taste of tempura.

Scully broke the kiss and immediately Mulder missed the contact. What he simply did not miss was the flash in Scully’s eye. It sent lightning down to his pelvis.

“Mulder,” Scully whispered raspily, “I want you to fuck me.”

“Here?”

“Yes,” Scully breathed, “I don’t want to go back in the rain.”

Mulder grinned, “You’ll have to keep quiet, do you think you can manage?”

Scully’s eyes hooded in annoyance, “Shut up before I change my mind.”

Mulder dipped a hand between Scully’s legs, cupping her. Scully bit her lip, a tiny squeak escaping her.

“And walk out of here with wet pants?” Mulder teased.

“Mulder…”

He didn’t need to be told again, his lips were on hers again, unfastening his belt and fumbling with the button on his pants.

Scully mirrored him, pulling her dress pants and underwear down.

Mulder heard the air escape her lungs when he pushed her back against the wall, and his hand was back at her core.

Scully gripped Mulder’s length in her hand and began stroking and a small moan pushed out of Mulder’s lips. Scully stopped moving, jerking her head back against the wall with a thud. She was smirking at him.

“Can you keep quiet?”

“Shut up,” Mulder laughed, kissing Scully again.

He slipped two fingers into Scully and she whimpered, widening her stance to grant Mulder better access.

She breathed raggedly against his lips, gripping onto his shirtsleeve tightly.

“Mulder,” Scully whispered, “I need you inside me now.”

“Will you be able to keep standing?”

Scully hesitated, and Mulder stilled his hand. He could feel her legs trembling a little.

“I don’t know.”

“I’ve got an idea,” Mulder replied, gently pulling his fingers out and dragging a restrained groan from Scully. “Step out of your pants,” he instructed.

Scully did, kicking them to the side.

They were heading increasingly into territory that would be impossible to not be found compromised, but Mulder couldn’t find it in him to care.

Once Scully was free of her bottoms, Mulder grabbed her around the waist and hoisted her into the air, pressing her back against the wall. She took the hint, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his hips.

With Scully supporting herself on him, Mulder had a free arm to brace them against the wall, and with the other, reach between them. After a moment of adjustment for the pair, Mulder slipped into Scully, sliding deep until their bare skin touched again.

Scully’s back arched and she bit her lip, straining to not make a sound.

“Okay?”

“Yes,” Scully struggled out.

Mulder wasted no time. He pulled his hips back, sliding out slightly, then jutted forward, driving into her against the wall. Almost immediately Mulder found himself pounding into Scully, the only sounds their labored breathing in the dark.

Mulder fucked her hard, almost wishing despite their need to be quiet that Scully would make a loud noise.

She rolled her hips between them, meeting his thrusts as best as she could. Her eyes were screwed tight, her panting deeply restrained.

Perhaps it was cruel to pull a trump card in a situation like this, precarious as it was. But if anyone was risking this terrible weather to catch them fucking frantically against the outer wall of a Japanese pub, that was on them. Mulder couldn’t help himself.

Scully’s hand reached between them, and her breathing changed-–he knew she was getting close.

Shifting his weight into the wall, Mulder leaned closer so he could whisper into Scully’s ear.

“You stayed so quiet,” Mulder cooed, “Such a good girl.”

Scully came with a loud cry.

Mulder followed suit.

#txf fanfic #xf fanfic #smut warning #msr #txf #wrote this a while back and didn't publish it--oops #another item for the 30th I guess

[frogsmulder]

Soft

about 250 words; rated m; tagging @today-in-fic​

His cheek is pressed against the cushion of her breast, soft and relaxed, tempered and home. His breath brushes against her nipple peaking roughly through the lace of her lingerie. It’s still vaguely wet from where he had sucked it into his mouth earlier, playing her with the dexterity of a maestro; the familiar ache remains but now, rather than arousing, it is comforting. His breath is steady and calm: a peace rarely found in their professional lives. Yet behind closed doors, they have drawn closer and content in their companionship. She gazes down at his head: the soft flops of his hair laying over his forehead blocks his eyes from her view, but she knows they are closed, teetering in between the sleeping and the waking in the weaves of bliss. He is only ever this calm with her this close. She doesn’t mind; he is a soothing balm for her troubled spirit too. But behind closed doors, their disquiet blurs at the edges; they feast themselves on each other's love; their souls entwine in playful laughter and gentle affection. So now, he lies with his cheek against her breast, vulnerable and curled protectively into her side. Gazing up at the ceiling, she feels the weight of his body rise and fall against hers with every breath. Her body follows his rhythm, always in sync. She breathes deeply; it’s the sweet aroma of home.

#hmmm i may write the smut that precursors this and call it behind closed doors #note to self #just a little bit of writing #need to get back into it #hope its not too abstract or repetitive #msr #the x files #xf fanfic #my fic #fox mulder #dana scully #the rolling stones cover #yeah the infamous one #sigh it gives me life #under the covers #oooo myabe i should call it that #anyway i should really sleep now

[imaginaryimages]

Stamina and Self-Control - Eddie Munson xF Reader

CW: Overstimulation, nipple play, multiple orgasms, idk what else. I haven't proofread and I don't have a beta so if I missed something let me know and I'll add it here.

This is absolutely self indulgent stupidly long lustful fantasy because my brain cannot stop thinking about this man. Enjoy?

---

She wasn’t entirely sure how they ended up in this position. It was all a bit of a blur. One moment they were exchanging quiet, intimate expressions of true and shared feelings, impassioned love confessions. Giggles and admissions of mutual pining. Then a series of soft, sweet kisses that began to turn heated. Now, there they were, laid out on his bed in very minimal clothing. Shirts and pants discarded, her bra hanging haphazardly off the end of the mattress.

Hands roamed across soft skin, fingers digging in and clutching with desire and intensity. His silver rings bit sharply and were bound to leave marks, and the thought aroused her even more. Her mind was spinning. She savoured every moan and sigh that graced her ears from his beautiful mouth. He savoured her sounds just the same. His lips travelled slowly down her throat and across her collar bone causing a particularly satisfied moan to slip out of her well kissed lips.

She tangled her fingers in his luscious hair, messy and disheveled from their rather frantic activities. She loved his hair and finally getting to tug at his roots and feel the soft curls delicately skim across her skin was driving her wild.

“I’ve dreamt about this so many times…” She breathed out.

Eddie pulled away and looked in her eyes with a seductive smirk, “Oh, yeah?”

That look could make her melt. His big brown eyes were rich, deep and dilated. It was so distracting and delicious, she stuttered out her reply.

“Mmm… y-yeah… yes.”

“And what exactly did you dream about?” His voice dripped with a sensual curiosity, and he nudged his nose beneath her jaw. He squeezed her hips, those rings she loved so much digging into her soft skin and once again she thought about the marks she would be left with. This wasn’t her first time, but the way he made her feel was so overwhelming, it felt like it was. Maybe it was the raw emotion, how deeply she cared for him, how much she had longed for this, yearned for him. Maybe it was how he made her feel as though he felt all those same feelings. He made her feel desired and adored. She was entranced. He nudged her again and her brain came back into focus.

“Y-your mouth…” She mumbled with a hint of embarrassment, her face beginning to become warm.

He liked that answer. He made that clear with a low groan.

“What about my mouth?”

“I… I pictured your mouth… on..” She could hardly think through the heavy wanton fog behind her eyes.

“Where did you picture my mouth, hmm?” Eddie managed to remain so cool and seductive, a contrast to her nervous excitement. She couldn’t answer, just sighed and moaned and tugged his hair a little harder. He had dreamt about this too, and he couldn’t believe this was real, it was happening. He quickly caught on to her nervousness and took the initiative to guide her.

“Was it here?” He kissed, nipped, and licked each of her earlobes.

“M-mmhm.”

“What about here?” He dragged the tip of his nose down the side of her neck, ending in an open mouthed kiss and gentle bite where her neck met her shoulder. She squirmed beneath him and nodded.

“Aaaannd what about… here?” Eddie moved a little further down her body, landing at her chest. His hot wet mouth wrapped around her nipple. He swirled his long tongue and grazed his teeth. Her breath hitched and she released another, this time louder, moan. She arched her back to press further into his mouth.

“Oh, you like that then?” His hand reached up to massage the opposite breast, delicately circling the very tip of his finger on her nipple. Her body reacted of its own accord, arching and squirming once more, whimpering and biting her lip hard. She definitely liked that. He moved to her other nipple and repeated his actions. Her breathing was getting heavier. Her fingers still in his hair, she whispered unintelligible praises. He relished the moment before continuing down her body. His long hair tickled her skin in a delectable way.

“What… about… here?” He reached the top of her panties, lace in her favourite colour. He kissed just above the waistband.

“Oh god, yes!” She practically screamed.

He chuckled darkly at her reaction. He took the edge of the waistband in his teeth before letting it snap back against her skin.

“May I?” Eddie asked, looking up at her. Seeing him between her legs made her whimper again.

“Please?” She begged so softly, he felt his heart skip a beat.

“As you wish.” He dragged the fabric down her legs at an excruciatingly slow pace, the gentle caress of his fingers felt like tiny sparks of electricity offset by the coolness of the metal wrapped around his digits. He kissed each of her ankles before glancing up to see her biting her lip.

He sat back to admire the image before him, her naked body spread across his bed with a light sheen of sweat on her skin. Her chest heaving with shaking passionate breaths, mouth agape, her fingers twisting in the sheets in anticipation of his next move.

“You are so beautiful.” He whispered, “I am the luckiest man alive, to have the honour of seeing you like this… I can’t believe…” For once in his life, he was at a loss for words.

The compliment made her face flush with heat. Her eyes scanned his bare chest, toned and enticing. She noticed his boxers had slipped down, now hanging low on his hips, a happy trail of dark hair leading below the waistband. She couldn’t help but smirk.

“I’m pretty damn lucky myself.” She leaned up and grazed her fingers down his chest, feeling him shiver under her touch. She toyed with the guitar pick necklace around his neck. Her hands moved slower as they approached the waistband of his boxers, dipping the tops of her fingers beneath the elastic and playing with the fabric. A new found confidence took over her and she slid one hand down the outside of the fabric, across the outline of his prominent bulge earning a yearning moan from him.

“Although… I can’t be the only one naked here... it seems a little unfair.” She pouted exaggeratedly and gently squeezed her hand around him through the cotton. He shuddered and hissed through his teeth.

“You’ve got me there.” He laughed lightly and made quick work of removing the offending garment before climbing back onto the bed. 

Her lust filled eyes blew wider, observing the length and girth he had revealed. A hush fell over the two of them. The reality of the situation hit them. There, on the bed, on their knees in front of each other and entirely bare, the intimacy of the moment filled the air with an indescribable energy. They had both wanted this for so long. Eddie could hear his heart pounding in his ears. He became shy under her gaze and he cast his eyes downwards as his face flushed. 

She inched closer to him on her knees, nearly holding her breath. He watched her fingertips gently touch his stomach, up across his chest and collarbones, twisting the chain of his necklace, dancing their way up to his shoulders and holding him there, drawing his attention up to her face. As he looked up, he was relieved to find a comfort in her soft smile and the beauty of her eyes. He reached forward to tuck a small strand of hair behind her ear. His hand lingered there, and he rubbed his thumb across her cheek. Her eyes fluttered closed and she pressed her cheek into his palm. When her eyes opened, he was still gazing at her lovingly. She shared his gaze, finding a similar safety in the warm mahogany of his irises. They sat in that moment, allowing themselves to get lost in each others eyes, until he broke the silence.

“I love you.”

“You said that before.” She giggled lightly.

“Well, I’m saying it again.” He flashed a grin and pressed his forehead to hers, “Because it’s still true. And I like saying it. I love you.”

“I love you too.” She whispered, closing her eyes again.

Slowly, gently, he laid her back down. He hovered above her, his guitar pick necklace dangling in front of her eyes. She fought the urge to bite it and drag him closer, instead enjoying the soft intimacy of the moment. He gave her body another glance over before leaning down and enveloping her in a passionate and sensual kiss. He kissed his way down her body again and resumed his position in between her legs, laid on his stomach. His hands gripped her hips, and she lifted them towards his face ever so slightly. Finally, finally, his lips made contact with her wet centre. She let out a contented exhale.

He worked his talented mouth and delightfully lengthy tongue in every direction, licking and suckling and occasionally very gently scraping his teeth over her sensitive bud. It was messy in the best way.

“Oh god wow your mouth really is... your tongue…” She could hardly string a sentence together, “You’re really really good at that.” She pulled him closer to her with both hands and he moaned into her, creating a deeply satisfying vibration.

He pulled away and gave her a cocky smile. “Is this this what you wanted? What you dreamt about? Am I living up to Dream Eddie?”

“So so much better.” She said breathlessly.

“Good.” He returned to his work with vigour, rubbing his thumbs into the crevices of her hips. His skilled lips were making her lose all sense of time and space, and when he introduced his equally skilled fingers into the mix she swore she saw stars. He was attentive to what made her tick, finding all the best spots inside her to make her moan and squirm for him. He was enjoying himself just as much as she was, rolling his own hips into the mattress. Soon she was completely unravelling. He had never seen something quite so beautiful, never heard such a beautiful symphony like the sound of her moaning and chanting his name.

“Perfect.” He complimented as he pulled back, eyes glossy. “Perfect, perfect, perfect.” He accented the words with a kiss back and forth to her thighs, ending with a flirtatious nip of his teeth. 

A gratified sigh flowed from her mouth. “Thank you.”

“Mmm, thank you.” He kissed her hip, then moved up to cage her in with his arms, connecting their mouths and she hummed into the kiss.

As they continued to explore each others mouths, she slid her hand down to lightly grip his member. The whimper from his mouth disrupted their kiss and she felt a boost to her ego. She squeezed him a little tighter, brushing her thumb across the leaking tip to spread the droplets down his length, easing her movements up and down. He bit down on her lip and groaned. He threw his head back and squeezed his eyes shut. She took the opportunity to push him back to sitting on his knees, and lowered herself in front of him. She licked from base to tip and placed little kisses at the there. She coated him with her saliva up and down before fully engulfing him, sloppily. He made glorious sounds as she bobbed her head.

“If you keep doing that I’m not going to last much longer.” Eddie shuddered and she removed her mouth, replacing it with her hand and slowly stroking, “and after how long I’ve wanted this I am not ready for this to end yet.” He said, trying to slow his breathing.

She removed her hand with a giggle and instead moved it to quickly wipe her mouth then push his bangs out of his eyes. She made a funny face and stuck her tongue out at him.

“God how do you do that?” He questioned with softening eyes.

“Do what?” She asked, confused.

“How do you manage to be incredibly sexy, like just fucking sensual, and yet also be the most adorable human being?” He chuckled.

“I’m multi-talented.” She shrugged with a silly smile.

“You are everything and more.” He breathed out, “And now you’re mine.”

“Yours.” She agreed, “And you are mine.”

“Absolutely baby, all yours.” He grinned down at her before attacking her neck with kisses and love bites.

“Eddie!” She giggled again, tugging at his hair and she could feel his smile against her skin but his assault did not cease. His barrage only increased in intensity, near desperation as his length bumped against her thigh. She wrapped one leg around his hips and he held her there, digging his fingers into her flesh. 

“God, you feel so good.” He groaned out.

She moaned, “Eddie?” His hipped stuttered but he continued to suck marks into the skin above her breasts. She tried a little louder, “Eddie?”

He pulled back and looked deeply into her eyes, “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

She smiled at his concern and smoothed his hair down, “No no that’s not it. It’s just… I’m ready. If you are.”

Relief flooded his features, quickly replaced with arousal and excitement, “I am so ready.” He scrambled to reach across their bodies, rolling over to his bedside table, yanking the drawer open haphazardly in search of a condom. She couldn’t help but laugh a little, and wondered just as he had wondered about her moments before how on earth he managed to be such a goof ball while simultaneously being sexy as hell.

“Aha!” He exclaimed when he pulled the package out of the drawer triumphantly. 

“You’re ridiculous.” She laughed.

“Ridiculously sexy?” Eddie wiggled his eyebrows and shook the condom like a polaroid.

“That too.” She concurred, taking the package out of his hands and ripping it open with her teeth.

“Now that was ridiculously sexy.” He grinned with wide eyes.

“Shut up and put this on!” She laughed, handing him back the package for him to roll smoothly down his length. She eyed him as he did so, admiring his ring clad fingers on his own member, squeezing her thighs together at the thought of how deliciously he would stretch her out. Moments later he was above her again, her hands tightly gripping his shoulders as he guided himself slowly into her, careful not to rush her. Once fully situated, he locked eyes with her and they both let out a breath. She wrapped her arms around his neck and threaded her fingers through his hair softly, and slowly, slowly he began to move in and out.

He kept the pace slow and steady, but deep, letting them both relish in the feeling of connection. It wasn’t long before the languid pace just wasn’t enough for either of them, with her tugging his hair harder and moaning his name and him biting his lip so hard he thought it might bleed. And so he picked up the pace, maintaining the depth of his thrusts. She wrapped both legs around his waist, pulling him ever closer and hitting an angle that had her mumbling incoherently, a mixture of expletives and his name over and over. Hearing his name roll off her tongue in sheer pleasure spurred him on and he hoisted her leg a little higher, and without warning her orgasm of the night hit her hard and fast.

A smug smile enveloped Eddie’s whole face, “Shit, baby you look so gorgeous coming undone like that. I wanna see it again. Do you think you can do that?”

She could only manage to nod and whimper as he thrust even harder, faster.

“I wanna…” Her sentence was cut off by an uncontrollable moan as he hit a special spot inside her and she clenched down on him, “I wanna be on top. Eddie, please…” She was breathless and couldn’t get enough of him, wanting to feel him in as many positions as they could manage in one go. 

“Oh fuck yeah, princess.” He rolled them over, managing to keep them connected. She situated herself atop him, placing her hands on his chest for stability and rolled her hips in circles.

Eddie threw his head back briefly, but quickly snapped back to look at her, not wanting to miss a moment of the glorious sight of her straddling him. She had one hand on his chest and one hand in her hair, pulling it back provocatively. Her eyes were tightly closed as she lifted herself up and down on his hard length, her beautiful breasts bouncing right in front of his eyes. He couldn’t resist reaching up to encase them in each hand, massaging and pinching her perky nipples. She responded by clenching tightly around him, and he took a mental note of just how much she enjoyed nipple play, remembering earlier in their experience with his mouth on them. He groaned and recreated the scenario, wrapping his mouth around one nipple and encircling the other with the pad of his finger. He bucked his hips to match her rhythm and dug his other hand harshly into her hip to hold her steady above him. The combination of his mouth, his delicate tingling of his finger across her nipple, and the pinch of his rings against her hip was overwhelming. He bit down on the nipple in his mouth and growled.

That did it for her. Once again she felt ecstasy roll through her body from head to the tips of her toes.

“Atta girl.” Eddie praised, stroking her hips and thighs as she laid her head on his chest trying to catch her breath.

“You tired now baby girl?” He asked her softly and she nodded. He carefully pulled out and laid her down next to him. She immediately cuddled closer to him and hummed happily into his skin. He kissed the top of her head.

“We can stop if you want.” She snapped her head up to look at him.

“But you haven’t even gotten to finish.” She protested.

“Don’t have to. This has been an absolute pleasure, and besides we can always have another go at it when you’re rested up.”

“Mmmm, we can definitely do that.” She replied, then with a sly smile she slid her hand down to pump him a few times, “But right now I wanna make you feel as good as you’ve made me feel. Three times now.” She continued to glide her hand up and down.

“I’m impressed by your self restraint,” she kissed the tattoo on his chest, “and your stamina.”

Eddie scoffed, “Me too. I don’t know how I’ve managed to control myself this whole time. You drive me crazy, you know?”

“Well, don’t control yourself anymore. I wanna feel you. Gimme all you got, Munson.” She smirked devilishly.

“Careful what you wish for baby.” He snarked, and in a flash he was above her again. He thrust in sharply, deep and hard. She yelped and clutched at him, causing him to smirk, “Told you.”

She shuddered with anticipation. He lifted both her legs up onto his shoulders and started a relentless pace. She was tired as he had noted before, but this was too good. She could only lay back and let the sensations take over her entire body. He bit her shoulder, letting out groans and grunts in her ear. She wanted to memorize those sounds and listen to them forever, hearing him lose himself in her. Her silky walls constricted around him with every moan. His thrusts became less controlled.

“Shit, shit, shit.” He babbled.

“Harder, Eddie please. I’m so close.” She whimpered.

“Me too baby, me too. So close.” His voice was a disjointed whisper as he continued his uncoordinated thrusts. She pulled at his hair and with a deep groan he regained his control enough for a few more deep hard thrusts before they both let go together. He collapsed on top of her, panting. She could hardly move from the overstimulation, but she slipped one hand onto his back to rub comforting circles on his bare skin. He let out a contented sound and kissed wherever he could reach on her chest from where he lay.

After a few minutes of blissful silence, basking in the afterglow, he rolled off her. 

“How how did you make me cum three times while inside me? Nobody has ever made me do that. Not even myself. I don’t think even the best vibrator in the world could.” She let out a laugh but winced at the tender sensitivity between her legs, clenching them together in pain. He tucked his face into her neck and wrapped his arm around her, feeling a little guilty for possibly hurting her.

“Sorry…” He mumbled into her skin, giving her a soft kiss there.

“Eddie, baby, do not be sorry. That was amazing.” She stroked his hair and kissed the top of his head, “If it’s going to be like that every time, we are never leaving this bed.” She said with a laugh.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem! reader #eddie munson xfemale reader #eddie munson xfem! reader #eddie munson xf!reader #eddie munson x f!reader #joseph quinn x reader #mine

[phillippadgettwrites]

Prompt: M&S get invited to a party by the Lone Gunmen. Scully surprises everyone by wearing a sexy outfit (leather skirt with high heeled boots maybe). They dance on 80s songs and drink and get veryyy horny

Interlude

Rated X / 1386 words / Posted on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

She’s drunk. Drunk drunk—the giggling, wobbling, uncoordinated kind. She’s not sure if she’s holding Mulder up at this point or he’s holding her up, or perhaps they are both being held up by the sweaty mass of bodies packed shoulder-to-shoulder around them in the Gunmen’s living room, shuffling haphazardly to the too-loud music. 

What you need is a big strong hand to lift you to a higher ground. Make you feel like a queen on a throne, make him love you ‘til you can’t come down. 

She almost hadn’t come. Their entire relationship has been so far from what anyone would consider normal that attending a house party together seemed downright scandalous, but she could tell that Mulder really wanted her to go. She took the opportunity to wear a little black miniskirt that’s been collecting dust in her closet for years, and paired with her highest heels and a loose-fitting blouse, it struck just the right balance of sexy and polished that she was able to bring herself to leave the house in it. When she slid into the passenger seat of his car outside her apartment, he’d openly gawked at her for so long that she felt herself blushing, unaccustomed to his prolonged, undivided attention. 

“Maybe we should stay in?” he’d suggested playfully, struggling to tear his eyes away from the exposed, pantyhose-free skin on her thighs. 

It’s still new enough to be just a little bit awkward. Innuendo-laced jokes that have flown freely between them for years suddenly aren’t jokes anymore, and they haven’t yet established a new rhythm of being together that makes it clear when sex is or is not on the table. But three hours and twice that many drinks in, he’s slipping his hand up under her skirt in the middle of the dance floor, playing with the hem of her panties and shouting his intentions in her ear over the music. 

She can feel people looking at them. Frohike for certain, though Byers and Langly are polite enough not to stare. Even the other partygoers, people she has never met and will likely never see again, give them long glances that tell her they are behaving inappropriately. Later, she will be horrified, but with bass thumping in her chest, vodka burning hot in her belly, and Mulder’s erection grinding against her hip, she can’t be bothered to care. 

She loops her arms around his neck, towing herself up enough to press her mouth to the shell of his ear.

“I have to pee,” she slurs, her toes intermittently losing contact with the floor as he pulls her close with an arm around her waist. 

He releases her, and when she turns away from him to head for the bathroom he delivers a firm slap to her ass, which makes her squeal with surprise. He stays hot on her heels all the way to the bathroom door, and when he follows her in she doesn’t feel inclined to object. With the door closed and the music muted, the degree of her inebriation becomes more apparent and she touches the backs of her fingers to her flaming cheeks. 

“Don’t let me drink any more,” she mumbles, hiking her skirt up around her hips. 

“Got it,” Mulder replies with a cheesy thumbs-up, leaning heavily against the bathroom counter. 

She’s about to pull her panties down when she realizes she has an audience. 

“Are you going to watch?” she asks, aiming for sarcasm.

“Can I?” he shoots back, and she rolls her eyes. 

“Turn around,” she says, swirling her index finger in a circle. 

He complies, and she watches the back of his head as she empties her bladder. When he hears the toilet flush he looks over his shoulder, his eyes wet and bleary, and watches her tug her skirt back down. 

“You should wear that more often,” he says as he approaches her, taking her by the hips and pushing her up against the bathroom counter.

“Where would I possibly wear this?” she quips. 

Mulder thrusts his hips gently against her, kissing the side of her neck. 

“My apartment,” he says, his tongue thick. 

They start to kiss, slow and sloppy, and she feels brazen enough to palm him over his jeans. 

“Is that an offer?” he asks against her cheek, his fingernails digging into the back of her thighs. 

“Maybe,” she answers noncommittally, though she’s already unbuttoning his fly. 

He grabs both her hands and moves them away, and even through her drunken haze she feels embarrassed. 

“Now I have to pee,” he says with a chagrined little smile. “Just give me one quick second.”

He takes one step to the left and proceeds to unzip his fly, and Scully watches as he pulls out his half-hard cock and aims it at the bowl. He looks over at her, swaying slightly, and smirks. 

“I can’t pee when I’m hard, stop being sexy,” he says with an appreciative leer. 

“My apologies,” she says as she moves to stand behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “This better?” 

The only thing strange about it is how un-strange it is. Given, she’s bordering on sloppy drunk. After what feels like a very long time has passed, she runs her palms down the front of his body until her hands collide with his, and she feels that he is no longer erect. 

“Is this a service you offer?” he asks, moving his hands so that they lay over the top of hers mid shaft as though showing her how to work the controls. 

She hums, a non-answer, but she also doesn’t move away. She feels a rush beneath his skin under the tips of her fingers before she hears it hit the water in the toilet, and it should be strange but somehow it isn’t. 

He doesn’t bother putting himself away when he’s done. She strokes him back to life, and he rucks up her skirt again before he bends her over the counter beside the sink. He doesn’t take her panties off or pull them down, he just tugs them to the side and forces himself into her in one swift thrust, watching her face in the mirror. 

Someone pounds on the door, but it’s absorbed into the bass vibrating the walls and the staccato slap of his skin against her ass cheeks as he takes up a harried pace. Their eyes are both on the mirror, on each other, her hands laid flat on the counter top and his spreading her ass cheeks apart so he can steal intermittent looks at what he’s doing to her. She’s not sure she’s ever behaved so badly in her life, and it goes straight to her cunt. 

“I’m gonna come,” she announces loudly, and his eyes roll back in his head. 

He barely manages to stay upright as she explodes around him, leaning over her for balance as a stream of profanities hits her ear and his cum runs down the insides of her thighs.

There’s another knock, much more insistent, and they hear Frohike’s irritated voice warning them that he’s going to pop the lock in about ten seconds. Scully scrambles to pull her skirt back down while Mulder falls against the glass shower door behind him as he struggles to get his still-hard cock back into his jeans. The lock pops and the noise of the party bursts into the room, along with a very disgruntled Frohike, and Scully pushes past him before he has a chance to speak, disappearing back into the party.  

Mulder finds her in a corner of the kitchen a few minutes later, guzzling a glass of water. 

“Hey, partner,” he says with an accusatory smile. “Thanks for sticking with me back there.”

“Sorry,” she says, wincing.

“You wanna get out of here?” he asks, his eyes flashing down the length of her body. 

“A cab from here to my place won’t be cheap on a Saturday night.”

Mulder shrugs. 

“My place is closer. Plus, I think you promised me you’d wear that skirt to my apartment.” 

“Did I?” she asks, smiling over the rim of her water glass. “I won’t have any clean clothes to change into, though,” she points out. 

“Sounds perfect,” he says, then grabs her hand and makes for the front door.  

#x files fanfic #the x files #xf fic #xf fanfic #dana scully #fox mulder #smut #xfiles #the xfiles

[blunailz]

I don't know who might see this but I'm desperate.

I'm looking for a mandalorian fanfic in which reader is force sensitive/user. I don't remember anything plot wise other than it starts with Din waking up from a dream, and the words "be with me".

Please help me find this, I'd really like to keep reading it.

#din djarin x force sensitive smut #pedro pascal #the mandalorian #fanfic #the mandalorian x f!reader #din djarin xf!reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian smut #din djarin x force sensitive!reader

[fine-nephrit]

🥏 TXF Fic Rec #8: ''Chantilly Lace" by wtfmulder

Who doesn’t love a well-done MSR first-time smut biscuit? I sure do.

This one is not your run-of-the-mill PWP. It has strong character voices, sizzling dialogues, and a lovely prose style. The story starts with a rendition of jealous!Mulder that I love and ends with steamy, angsty sex. I like a bit of character insight and a little angst to go with the sex. This fic does that perfectly.

It’s so so hot.

🥏 chantilly lace by wtfmulder (@wtfmulder)

Length: short, 2,000+ words Season: season 6 Relationship(s): M/S First-time Tags: angst, smut, jealousy Rating: Explicit/NC-17

#the x files #x files #x files fanfic #xf fanfic #msr #nephrit's fic rec #favorite #len: short #season: 6 #ship: m/s first time #genre: angst #genre: smut #jealousy #rating: nc17 #by: wtfmulder