madnessandmalicezine

[itneverendshere]

for bitchy pogue reader I'd love some actual introductions to Topper and Kelce after the golf course, they can be huge assholes but we've seen a nicer side to both of them. So Rafe trying to see if group hanging out *is* possible, and it's probably very weird but maybe it works out?

it's not working out just yet....but maybe! soon! thank you for the request💗

get your head in the game

pairing: bitchy!pogue!reader x rafe

you think you had too many shots before leaving the house.

alright, so maybe the vodka was overkill. maybe. but you knew you’d need a little courage to pull off this top that’s basically a vague suggestion of a shirt. the whole thing's simple math—tight skirt, low-cut top, a flick of lip gloss, and, boom, everyone else is irrelevant.

if you wanted, you could have any guy here eating out of the palm of your hand. so why the fuck did you dress thinking about rafe when you’re supposed to distance yourself from that asshole? no idea.

the bonfire’s huge tonight, lighting up all the faces you couldn’t care less about.

you can feel him, hovering somewhere nearby. he’s in that faded sweatshirt he always wears when it’s colder out, the one that smells like salt and smoke and way too many of your bad nights. mister pouty face himself, sulking around the fire, watching you with this look that says he knows he messed up but doesn’t even know where to start patching things over.

you turn your back on him for the millionth time that night, let your hips sway just a little extra, knowing he’s watching. yeah, you’re putting on a show, all right—flicking your hair, laughing louder than you need to. 

you’re just reaching for a beer when you feel hands slide around your waist, and you almost jump out of your skin, but then you catch that familiar, maddening scent of his and your body goes all traitorous, leaning back against him before you snap out of it.

"jesus,” you’re already twisting out of his clasp, turning around, and there he is, standing like he didn’t just sneak up on you with those stupid blue eyes and that stupid, lopsided grin. 

you want to shove him away, but he’s got that look, like he’s begging for a chance without saying a word, and you hate how much it gets to you.

your head had been a mess since that day at the golf course.

“what do you want?” you ask, arms crossed, brows up, giving him that full-on don’t mess with me look.

“to talk,” he’s close, way too close, looking down at you like he’s trying to read every little twitch of your face as if he can just stand there and make things better by breathing the same air.

his hands are still hovering around your waist, like he’s waiting for permission to touch you again. part of you wants to let him, but you just narrow your eyes, tilting your chin.

“aren’t you afraid your little friends are gonna see you?” you edge him on, “talking to a pogue?”

“don’t start,” he says, you can see the pleading in his eyes as he reaches for your waist again, fingertips brushing your hip, like he can’t stand not touching you for another second.

“why not?”

he winces, dropping his hand back to his side, and it’s almost pathetic, how he’s just standing there, not even pretending to defend himself. “i—c’mon, i already apologized—”

you roll your eyes, not trying to hide the smirk pulling at your lips. 

“apologized?” you let out a bitter laugh, tossing your hair over your shoulder. “oh, yeah, that makes up for all the times you acted like i didn’t exist.”

his face crumples, and you can see him struggling, his hand drifting toward your hip again, but he hesitates like he’s afraid he’s about to get slapped away.

it’s almost sad, mr. big shot practically pussy-whipped.

“c’mon, don’t do this,” he murmurs, stepping closer until you can feel the warmth of him. his fingertips ghost along your bare arm, like he’s desperate just to feel you. 

you scoff, leaning back against the cooler, crossing your arms in front of you as his hand slides to your waist, bold and pleading all at once. his touch is warm, and you hate how your body responds like it’s a prayer, like you've been waiting all night for him to finally show up.

“there’s some people i want you to meet.”

his thumb brushes the skin just above your waistband, and he’s so close you can feel his breath against your cheek.

“what?” you huff in annoyance, lifting your chin up as he inches closer, his lips brushing against the side of your neck.

you feel his thumb grazing your skin back and forth, his lips so close you can taste the desperation in his breath.

perhaps it’s the vodka, or maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you but you feel yourself softening, just a little, against your will.

“my friends.”

you didn’t hear him right. 

his friends? the same friends who wouldn’t even look at you if you walked past them in town? the same friends he’d all but hid you from for months?

“what?” you ask, slower this time, more disbelief than anything, and you tilt your head up to get a better look at him. 

he’s got that kicked puppy look in his eyes, and you’re not even sure what to make of it.

this is rafe cameron, the guy who wouldn’t be caught dead with you outside the bedroom, now practically begging to introduce you to his kook buddies?

“i want them to know,” his voice trails off, “i want them to know ‘m with you.”

“with me?” you repeat, not even bothering to hide the sarcasm in your voice. “since when?”

this can’t be real—this can’t be the same rafe who couldn’t even look you in the eye outside his house three months ago.

“i told you, the other day at the golf course.”

you stare at him like he’s stupid, “you mean, when you went alpha on those little frat boys?”

“i saved you from them, okay.” 

you’re seconds away from outright laughter when he just keeps looking at you with those fucking pleading eyes, that hand grazing your cheek in a way that should be soft but instead feels like he’s trying to imprint himself into your skin.

why the fuck is this so endearing to you.

he sounds almost earnest—almost. but you’re not giving him an inch, not after months of him acting like he didn’t know your name outside of his bedroom. 

“what do you mean, ‘saved me’?” you raise an eyebrow, biting back a smirk. “saved me from what? a little attention?”

rafe lets out a rough exhale, glancing down with a frustrated shake of his head.

“they were hitting on you,” he mutters, his hand tightening on your waist, fingers digging in just enough to make you aware of every single inch of his hold on you. “and ‘m not gonna stand around and watch some asshole get his hands all over what’s mine.”

mine?  he’s really lost it. 

“country club, i don’t know if you hit your head golfing and this is some post-head trauma hallucination, but ‘mine’ implies you want something more than whatever the fuck this is.” you motion between the two of you, throwing a hand up in exasperation.

“why don’t you ever call me by my name?” he grumbles, just like he did the other day on the golf course. he lets out a short laugh, shaking his head. “except when—”

your mouth drops open. is he serious? this shit again?

“except when what?” you glare at him as you swat his chest. 

he’s got that smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

“you only call me rafe when,” his voice drops deliciously, and he leans in close, eyes half-lidded and fixed on your lips. “…when ’m inside you.”

“shut up,” you hiss, smacking his chest again, but he doesn’t move. instead, his smirk grows as he catches your wrist and holds it, letting his fingers trace over your knuckles.

before you can retort, there’s a loud cackle from behind you.

you turn, and there they are: topper and kelce, both looking like they’ve stumbled into a parallel universe.

“whoa, what’s this?” topper’s smirk is almost as wide as rafe’s. “didn’t know our boy here had himself a—” he raises his eyebrows, letting the word hang with a smug twist of his mouth. kelce snickers, crossing his arms, eyes darting between you and rafe.

you’re already huffing, half-prepared to watch rafe put on his usual bad boy with daddy issues mask, toss out some stupid excuse, or worse—let them think you’re just a fucking hole to him.

rafe gives your waist an extra squeeze, fingers pressing into your side as if he’s staking a claim.

“this,” he says, clearing his throat like he’s about to announce something official, “is my girlfriend.”

you blink, utterly thrown, and from the look on their faces, topper and kelce are right there with you, both staring at rafe like he’s just grown an extra head.

“your what?” kelce sputters out, eyes widening, clearly expecting the punchline.

you open your mouth to say something snarky, make some joke out of this whole ridiculous scene, but rafe’s fingers are tracing slow, warm circles against your hip and you can’t think straight to save your life.

god, old you would’ve ridiculed yourself for being putty in the hands of a kook of all people. 

“girlfriend,” he repeats, like he’s spelling it out just for them. “want you both to meet her.”

you swear kelce’s jaw drops, while topper lets out a low, incredulous laugh. tweedledum and tweedledee at their best.

“you’re serious,” topper mutters, giving you a once-over and shaking his head in disbelief. “i thought she was just a—”

“yeah, ’m serious,” rafe cuts in, his tone brooking no argument.

you must’ve missed the part where you two talked about this thing like adults and he proceeded to ask you. 

“your what?” you bite out, as you try to wrench his arm away, but his grip only tightens, he’s prepared for a full-on wrestle if it keeps you there.

“hey—will you just stay here?” he murmurs, voice low enough that it’s just for you. 

you’d throw something at him if you could. you yank his hand away anyway, tearing yourself free from his grip. “stay? are you kidding?”

you’re already storming off into the crowd, but you still hear kelce behind you, their voices , “that went well.”

rafe curses under his breath, but you just keep walking, not looking back, even as you can feel him running after you, those long legs of his making it easy to catch up.

“wait! seriously, wait!”

 like hell you’re going to let him off the hook so easily.

“not happening!” you shout over your shoulder. 

you could turn around and give him one last piece of your mind, but a part of you knows it’ll only lead to more hurt feelings—yours or his. you push through a group of people huddled around the bonfire, and it’s only when you reach the edge of the beach that you finally stop, trying to catch your breath.

“why do you always do this?” rafe’s voice comes from behind you. you don’t turn around, knowing that if you see that look on his face, you might just give in.

“do what?” you shoot back, crossing your arms defensively.

“run away,” he almost whines, taking a step closer, and you can hear the frustration in the way his throat tightens up, “you never give me a chance to explain.”

“explain what? that you want me to be your girlfriend when two weeks ago, you couldn’t even look at me in front of your friends?” you spin to face him, “this is ridiculous.”

rafe opens his mouth, probably to defend himself, but the look on your face shuts any attempt down.

“i asked you to stay.”

you groan, itching to pull your hair out, “what are you talkin’ about?”

“that night, i asked you to stay.”

“and proceeded to ignore me the next day, yes, i’m well fuckin’ aware.”

you want him to feel a sliver of what he’s put you through, but he just steps closer, almost like he’s trying to coax you back.

“i was trying to figure things out,” he says, like that’s supposed to mean something to you. “it’s not easy, alright?”

“were you incredibly tortured by the thought of letting your friends know you were slumming it with a ‘pogue’? please.”

“what, you really think i don’t care about you?” he’s pleading now, his face just inches from yours. “because if you don’t know that by now, then i don’t know what else i can do.”

you laugh bitterly. Is he actually serious?

“you can grow a fucking pair. where was this brave, ‘caring’ version of you last week? or the week before that?” you throw a hand up, trying to make him see how obvious this all is. “when you could’ve just acted like a man and told your friends instead of pretending i was some embarrassing secret.”

“’m trying to fix that,” he says, his desperate, “right here, right now.”

“and ’m supposed to just forget the way you treated me all those times?”

“can you just let me try to be better?”

you swallow, biting your lip. he’s closer now, and you can smell that familiar cologne and saltwater.

“it’s gonna take more than a few pretty words.”

“i know,” he says, nodding like he’s promising you something. “that’s why i want you to meet my friends, why i want them to know ’m with you.” his fingers finally, lace with yours, and he looks down at your hands, “i want to do this right.”

you stare down at his hand in yours, and for a second, yeah, your heart stutters, betraying every ounce of pride you’ve tried to keep intact through this whole mess.

this is rafe we’re talking about. kook royalty, king of mixed signals, the guy who’s too proud to admit when he’s wrong, especially when his boys are watching. the guy smells good, he looks like sin, and he’s saying all the things you’ve wanted to hear since day one.

a few weeks ago, you’d have laughed at the idea of ever feeling anything real for him. you, a pogue with a mouth on you, and him, a kook with daddy issues and an ego bigger than his bank account. but here you are, letting him pull this romantic shit on you.

is he actually worth all this? you could do better; you know that.

you could have someone who doesn’t make you feel like an option, someone who’s not constantly forcing you to guess what the hell he wants.

the real question is, do you actually believe he’s gonna change? or is this just another moment of him saying whatever he has to so he doesn’t lose the convenience of you?

you huff, half-scoffing, half-sighing, because honestly, maybe he does sound genuine for once, and maybe a part of you wants to believe him so badly you could actually throw your whole life away. 

“prove it then,” you say it like you’re daring him. “day by day. if you’re serious, you’ll show me. and you’ll handle your idiot friends in the process.”

“deal.”

you raise a brown, “you’re not gonna think about it?”

he shrugs, “nothin’ to think about.”

you roll your eyes, because that line should be cheesy, but it lands. he really has no right to be this good at disarming you with a few well-placed words. and the worst part? he knows it. 

“can i kiss you?”

of course he'd say something like that. of course, after all the back-and-forth, the pushing and pulling, he’d just stand there and ask to kiss you like everything’s solved.

you sigh, tilting your head like you’re seriously considering it. "you think a kiss is gonna make me forget every dumb shit you did?"

he smirks, all cocky confidence, but he knows he’s on thin ice. “nah, but i figured it’d be a start.”

you almost hate him for making it sound so tempting, you wish it didn't feel this good to be wanted.

you shake your head, resisting the impulse to let him off easy, but how he’s looking at you… ugh. you can’t help it, you’re thinking with your pussy at this point.

"fine," you say, trying to sound annoyed even as your heart's practically pounding out of your chest. "one kiss, no tongue.”

his mouth actually drops open, and he's staring at you like you’ve just told him he can only have one fry out of the whole basket.

"no tongue?" he repeats, eyebrows practically hitting his hairline. he's doing this thing where his mouth opens and closes like he’s a fucking fish, "wait, please—what do you mean, no tongue?"

you only just manage to keep a straight face, because fuck, this is killing him, and it’s almost cute.

"exactly what i said," you nodd, crossing your arms with this wicked little smirk. "you wanted a kiss. you get one.”

he’s looking at you like you insulted his entire lineage, "c’mon, just a little tongue. you know you wann—"

“absolutely not,” you wrinkle your nose, laughing as you cut him off. maybe you do, but this is way more fun, watching him squirm.

“fine,” he groans, moving in close, the glint in his eye tells you he’s about to break all the rules the second he’s got you there. he leans in, almost sulking, and you feel him press a single, very tame, very tongue-free kiss to your lips, “so... no tongue later either? when ’m between your legs? 'cause i’d hate to break your rules.”

son of a bitch.

it’s useless to act unaffected when he’s looking at you like that.

“pull that shit again, rafe, and you’re getting blue balls for the next month.”

he looks scandalized, that smirk dropping as he watches you with wide, pleading eyes. “you wouldn’t.”

“play stupid games, win stupid prizes.”

his jaw drops a little like he can’t decide whether to laugh or fall to his knees and beg for mercy. “you’re seriously cruel, y’know that?”

“course i do.”

[bugflies00]

sorry this is referencing a few month old post/s you made about the dream situation and a question you’d asked about dream stans, you can delete this msg if you want since it’s not as relevant anymore. Again I’m sorry if this is weird or you don’t gaf (that’s fair bc who does lol)

TW for grooming and dream being fucking gross. You can just scroll fast and delete if you don’t want to read or deal with this, I understand that

-

To preface Im about Tommy’s age now, when I was 15-17, used to be a huge dream stan, and I was very vocal about defending him online. —I was extremely parasocial and weird, and looking back on it I really regret how I acted.

So. Idk how much people who weren’t stans of his saw, but dream- as stupid as it sounds- was our friend.

He had bath calls with us, sleep calls with us, he told us in depth about his personal life and his health issues and his trauma and his moods and his habits and just basically everything. Most of his interactions with us was through his discord, and then someone in the fandom would stream his discord calls for people who weren’t there. A running joke was that dream had a parasocial relationship with us. there was absolutely no gap between creator and fan, he followed me more than once, he brought fans onto his discord streams and talked with them and he knew a good amount of us by name. He called us cute and talked about how much we all (as individuals) meant to him,

when drama happened he’d usually either do a space/call or go on his private and vent to us, there were I think two separate times he’d have full panic attacks over drama happening, and we’d have to talk him down. He also would, when responding to callouts or accusations, use arguments that his fans were making.

He did this during almost all his pitfalls, including the grooming allegations, his wording was often taken word for word from tweets by people I was friends with. I dropped him after the initial allegations, but for a while after i still checked in bc i was really hoping he’d be innocent (he wasn’t) and i can confirm he still does this. He also regularly dmed his fans, mostly his black fans, to ask for “help” on being less racist.

I don’t use the word “grooming” lightly, but dream was and is absolutely grooming his audience. Thats why dream stans seem so cult-like these days. The amount of guiltripping, lying, forcing an us vs them mentality, and manipulation I saw this man pull was actually sick. He’d frequently, privately, to us, vent about tommy or quackity, and about how “all his friends hated him” and “we were all he had left” (legit, not joking). He is extremely good at emotional blackmail, he is good at making his fans hate other creators and turn on them, he is very good at utilizing his tears and using wording that he knows will make his mostly teenage fanbase think he’s a good kind person.

He wants to impress on his fans that he really was just a kind person, the only kind person and the only voice of reason. That’s why when the Cantu thing happened, he started posting “messages” of him being so kind to the Uber driver. He needs his fans to think he’s a kind and loving person, and that Tommy and quackity and literally everyone who’s pulled away from him was just a fake friend who couldn’t be trusted. He somehow was always, always the one being fucked over.

I remember when I told my friend about dream (this friend had a completely neutral opinion on him and barely knew the guy beyond his manhunts) and he told me that sounded like grooming.

He gradually isolated his (primarily young, female) fanbase using private accounts, discord calls, Snapchat, and whatever else. He got extremely personal with us far beyond the level any creator should be, he used kindness and flattery (like calling us “mature”. Also legit) to make us feel genuinely loved by him, again, NOT in the way a creator loves their fans. In the way a friend loves their friends, even in the way a partner loves their partner. He lashed out at us and had panic attacks when we did criticize him, he used tactics to make us think he was always right and good, and more than that, make all his detractors seem like terrible people out to get him AND us, he played himself out to be the perpetual victim and used carefully cut clips and emotional manipulation (like how he brought up his ~poor innocent family~ when harassing quackity. Weaponizing trauma like that was something he did ALL THE TIME to us whenever he was criticized.) in order to use us against people he didn’t like, making us take the bullet for him.

He uses his kindness and supposed goodness as a weapon, he used Tommy’s own trauma around doxxing against him when Tommy dared to criticize him (“I supported you when you were getting doxxed, yet you won’t do the same for me?”)

He used trauma to relate to his audience, making us feel like he was the only person who got it.

It’ll sound stupid, but it was genuinely really scarring. The way he made me and my friends feel was so confusing. I often found myself feeling used and violated, but also like I was in debt to him. I dreaded when he’d have fans on call, I dreaded him but also he felt like all I had. The tone of him and the fandom was that “we have to defend him at all costs, they’re out to get him and we’re the last line of support he has”. It was embarrassing, it was stressful, it was horrible. I wasted so much fucking time and energy on him.

it was really traumatic and distressing, especially as a teenager who’d already been at a vulnerable point and used him as an escape originally. I know that sounds melodramatic but I mean it.

He is a groomer through and through. He’s barely getting any new fans, but he’s barely losing any either bc the grasp he has on them is so tight.

Worst of all, if you leave the fandom, you’ll lose your friends and become an enemy. He encourages that behaviour and that mentality. He encourages harassment of his ex-friends, he encourages harassment of anyone who doesn’t like him. He wants you to feel like he’s the only good person, and like he’s the only one who will care about you. And I know at least in my experience that the way I acted when I was a fan of his did genuinely cause me to feel alienated in my social life. I lost friends, I felt like I couldn’t talk to anyone “safely”. That’s how he wants his fans to feel, because at some point he really is all you have.

And that’s why dream stans are still sticking around. It’s at the point where the only way they’ll leave is on their own volition, and the more publicly fucked shit he does, the less hope I have that they’ll do that.

i don’t have much to add but i agree, and several people i know who used to be big dream fans also agreed that there was a heavily insidious ‘us vs them’ atmosphere

[cogentsummoner]

4- lips barely touching small all might x reader

4. lips barely touching

however, this fic is also heavily inspired by these three pieces of art!

You're not sure if he's aware of how obvious he's being.

It's the Might Tower Employee Christmas Party™, and your boss- or rather, your boss' boss, one Mr. Yagi- has been staring wistfully at the mistletoe since he arrived.

Not that you've been watching him the whole time, mind you. That would be weird.

He's been staring at the mistletoe in between chatting with some other folks, but he hasn't yet worked up the courage to walk under it. It's not too out of the way, but it's also not, y'know, literally in the doorway. Easy to avoid if you want, but also easy enough to bump into someone accidentally, too.

And that's your plan.

"I do think having me come with you to peer pressure the kiss is the best option," your friend says before downing the rest of his eggnog. "Mr. Yagi is liable to run away like a startled deer if you don't."

"See, I think the peer pressure will just make him more anxious," you counter.

You like Mr. Yagi. He's quite possibly the nicest boss('s boss) you've ever had. He remembers everyone's birthdays, he's always happy to talk to...well, anyone, really, and he's just... sweet. Sweet and genuine in a way that's incredibly endearing. And attractive.

Okay, so maybe you have a little crush on Mr. Yagi. And maybe this whole mistletoe thing is the perfect excuse to kiss him. If he didn't want to be kissed, maybe he shouldn't be- oh fuck, he's finally making his move, he's making a beeline for that mistletoe!

"Oh, shit, go go go!" your friend whisper-yells, giving you a firm shove in the direction of that same mistletoe.

Fuck, okay, you can do this.

Mr. Yagi notices you as stumble towards him, stopping just underneath the mistletoe, and just like he always does, he gives you that big, bright smile you love so much.

Then- and you can see this happen in real time- it clicks in his brain where you both are, and a deep blush blooms on his face.

You look from him, to the mistletoe, then back to him, feeling warmth spread over your own cheeks.

"It's- um- we don't have to! If you're uncomfortable!" he rushes to reassure you, and you can't help but let out a little giggle. It's cute. He's cute.

"I'm comfortable," you reply with a shy smile. "If you are."

He nods shakily, his hand trembling just the slightest bit as it cups your cheek and he slowly leans down.

"You're certain?" he asks, and you wonder for a moment if you'd misread the situation, and he actually just doesn't want to kiss you, but...there's something quiet and wanting in his gaze, all the same.

So it was probably just nerves. You nod, trying not to look too eager. Yes, you want him to kiss you. God, do you want him to kiss you.

His eyes squeeze shut when he finally closes that distance, his lips brushing against yours softly, so softly. Too softly. Way, way too softly, and way too quick.

He pulls back, still trembling, just the slightest bit, his gaze full of longing.

You let out a huff, and bring your hands up to cup his face.

"Mr. Yagi, what kind of kiss was that?" you admonish playfully. Before he can get any wrong ideas in his head, you pull him back down into a kiss- a real kiss this time.

It takes a second for his brain to catch up to what was happening- then, he absolutely melts in your hands, his own hands shyly coming to rest on your waist.

It's clearly been a long time since he'd been kissed- which does blow a hole in the rumor that Mr. Yagi and All Might were sleeping together-but he certainly doesn't want for enthusiasm or passion.

You're all too happy to lean into it, one hand sliding back to play with the hair at the back of his neck. The two of you would've been content to stay like that, had you both not been reminded-

The sound of a camera going off rings through the air.

-that you had an audience.

Mr. Yagi immediately pulls back, face flushing a deep red as he looks around and realizes - yep, a lot of your coworkers were unabashedly staring at the spectacle you two had made of yourselves.

You know they mean no harm- Mr. Yagi was very, very well liked, even if he wasn't the best at actually doing his job, and the only enemies you've made at work have been that one guy in accounting. Everyone's just caught up in what must look like a cute little moment.

But Mr. Yagi wasn't seeing it that way, you can tell. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, and there was sweat breaking out on his face. He felt exposed, maybe even humiliated.

So you don't take it personally when he turns to you and says limply, "I-I… I should go, I'm… I'm sorry. Merry Christmas."

You watch him practically run out of there, his face burning, your heart sinking despite yourself.

It's a few minutes later when a coworker who'd come in late walks over to you and tells you, "Hey, I think Mr. Yagi just went back to his office- when I walked by him, he'd pressed up on the elevator."

You nod, and thank them. It's good that he hasn't left- you'll give him about ten minutes to compose himself, then go check on him. No way were you letting this moment fade into an embarrassing memory for either of you. Not after that kiss.

prompt list/ accepting!

[jiniretracha]

ꕤ 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 '𝟐𝟒 - 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟖 ꕤ

Hwang Hyunjin x fem!reader: handkink

summary: Hyunjin was 100% sure you had a thing for his hands. Only one way to find out

warnings: smut, choking, fingering, unprotected sex

word count: 1.3k

kinktober masterlist // masterlist // ko-fi

Hyunjin had a suspicion that you had a certain… thing for his hands. 

If it were some other girl, he’d found it incredibly weird. But it was you. The girl who understood him in every sense, the love of his life.

And how did he pick up on that you may ask? 

Well, it was simple. As his eyes are always on you, they live on you, he found you staring at his hands very often. In non sexual ways.

He saw you staring at his hands intensely when he was cutting garlic for the sauce you were preparing for the pasta, and when you noticed he had caught you staring, you tried disguising it with a smile and pressing a kiss to his arm. 

On another occasion, he was sketching in bed, really focused on painting the lilies you had gifted him that same morning when his eyes shifted to see what you were doing. He found you staring at his drawing but as he focused on your gaze, he realised you were not in fact staring at the paper, but at his hands. 

He stared at them, trying to figure out why you were staring so intensely at them. 

Maybe it was how big they were? The veins?

He didn’t understand but he was sure you were into them in some kind of way. And if he was going to be honest, he liked it. He loved that you were obsessed with him just as much as he was obsessed with you. 

Tonight, he wanted to find out, so he put his little plan in action. 

He was driving back home with you on the passenger seat, putting on some music on the speakers. 

As you hummed on Cigarettes and Alcohol by Oasis, Hyunjin smirked to himself as he casually dropped his hand on your thigh, gripping it softly. 

You stopped humming abruptly as your eyes fell on his veiny hand on your skin. He continued driving but from the corner of his eye, he could see your eyes posed on his hand. 

Hyunjin heard you swallowing when he started making movements up and down on your thigh. 

He felt your shivering underneath his palm and he smiled. “You cold, baby?” he asked.

You looked at him and smiled. “No, baby. I’m good” 

“Okay”

You reached the house and when you got in, it didn’t take long before he had you straddled on his lap by the couch as he kissed your lips intensely. 

As he devoured your mouth, his hands went up your thighs oh so slowly, making you whine when they reached your hips, gripping them so he could press you down on his clothed cock. 

His lips trailed down your neck, biting and pulling on your skin so he could mark you. “Baby… do you want me to touch you?” he asked with a little smirk against your neck.

You nodded frantically your head and his hands quickly unbuttoned your skirt and threw it away on the couch, leaving you with your top and panties sitting on top of him. 

Hyunjin snaked his hand inside your panties and bit his lip when he found you wet and ready for his fingers. 

“Good girl, you don’t need any prep” he chuckled against your jaw before biting it playfully. 

You gasped when you felt his fingers probing at your entrance and then moaned loudly when they went inside your wet cunt easily, letting his thumb rub over your clit in circles. 

“Hyune— Hyune, fuck” you gasped, moving against his fingers. 

You gasped even louder when his free hand went to your neck, gripping it hard enough so he wouldn’t hurt you. 

Your eyes were widened and almost pitch black, he could barely see the colour in them. 

“You like that, hm?” he asked you, pulling your face closer to his by your neck. 

You felt your eyes getting teary as you felt the immense pleasure his fingers were making you feel. 

“Answer me, or have you gone dumb on me already?” he chuckled darkly, biting your bottom lip and tugging on it. 

“I love that, Hyune” you said, letting your forehead fall on his. 

His hand on your neck loosened as his fingers from his other hand moved in and out of you at a quick pace. 

You felt his fingers brushing over your lips and you quickly opened them, letting them inside your mouth as you sucked them. Hyunjin bit his lip as he groaned, watching your hooded eyes as he looked at you full of his fingers in every sense. 

He quickly pulled his fingers out of your core and your mouth, desperately unbuttoning his jeans. Once he had them opened, he pulled his cock out, jerking himself slowly. 

He grabbed your panties and ripped them off in one single move, your body jolting as you heard the sound of the clothing breaking. 

Hyunjin moved your body so he could slide himself inside of you and then groaned at the feeling of your wet and tight core over his shaft. 

You quickly pulled him into a kiss as you dropped down your hips with the help of his hands to move you. 

Your tongue played with his as you clenched your walls around his cock, hugging his length perfectly. 

His hands went to your top, grabbing it and pulling it away from you, his eyes widening when he noticed that you weren't wearing a bra.

His hands went to your breasts, gripping them in his hands and toying with your nipples. You threw your head back as your hands came to enclose around his wrists. 

Hyunjin grabbed your neck and pulled you into a kiss once again. 

You felt a whine creeping in your throat as you noticed your boyfriend was still wearing his shirt. You grabbed the shirt and pulled it off of him frustratedly. 

He chuckled at your desperation and threw it off behind the couch. He grabbed your hips and started thrusting against your cervix with force, making you scream out his name.

“Fuck, Hyunjin!” 

He smirked and threw you on the couch, placing his hand on your neck as he moved heavily inside of you. His free hand was grabbing your thigh to open you up to him so he could slide even further. 

“God, baby, do you even know how fucking hot you look with my hand around your neck like this?” he asked you in a hushed whisper. 

Your eyes were rolling back and you were sure you were drooling at this point.

Your walls quivered around him and he noticed you were close to the edge. His fingers played with your clit as he brought you closer to your orgasm. 

Hyunjin tightened his hold on your neck and kissed your lips, snapping his hips even harder against yours. 

“Come for me, baby. I can feel you clenching” he whispered, his tongue licking your bottom lip before resuming his fiery kiss.

You bit down on your lip and felt your orgasm crashing over you in waves as you coated his cock with your come.

He groaned and thrusted his hips a couple of times before filling you up. Hyunjin was spent and collapsed on top of you, but did not let his hand leave your neck, though he wasn’t using force. 

You panted and caressed your boyfriend’s back with your palms. 

“Baby?” he asked, his fingers on your neck now caressing your pulse points. 

“Mhh?”

“Do you have a hand kink?” he asked you, his voice vibrating on your neck. 

“No…” you confessed. “I just love your hands”

Hyunjin chuckled. “I knew it…”

── .✦

taglist: @annhearttihaehe // @frequentlykit // @alexisfeliz // @jeonginsleftcheek // @yaorzu-blog // @jisunglyricist // @leeknowinggg // @ka0ila // @minghaosimp // @lixies-favorite-cookie // @yn-x-them // @chrizrizz // @madkati // @starzystay // @pancake-freckle // @velvetmoonlght // @regardsto-hell // @jaiuneamesolitaiire // @bangchansbeanie

i apologise if i can't tag u :(

[missaengg]

An Innocent Question

Day 27 of Kinktober: Visions of Temptation hosted by @xxsycamore found here Featuring: Love and Deepspace | Caleb x f!reader Tags: mdni, smut, pwp, alternate universe - college, friends with benefits, cunnilingus, fingering, finger fucking, making out, p in v sex, caleb being a sexy little shit Prompts: Casual Sex/FWB | “Come here. I'll make it all better.” A/N: Yeee~ Finally wrote one for Caleb :) ao3 link here.

It started with an innocent question.

You were in Caleb’s dorm room, perched on his bed after you raced over the moment you finished moving in.

“Hey, Caleb, is it true that the average penis is between five and six inches long?”

You’d read that somewhere on the internet, and who better than Caleb, a man with a penis himself, to answer the question?

Caleb choked on his drink, spraying soda on his dorm room carpet that had definitely seen better days. “Pipsqueak, did ya just ask me about penises?”

“Yeah, I read it somewhere on the internet, and I was wondering if it was true.” You nonchalantly shrugged, confused as to why he was making such a big deal out of your question. “I mean, you have a penis, you should know, right?”

Caleb looked at you like you’d lost your goddamn mind. It was unnerving… how he was just staring at you without uttering a single word.

“You don’t have to be so weird about it,” you huffed.

“I’m not being– Pipsqueak, why’re ya asking me about penises?” Caleb asked, still eyeing you strangely.

“Six inches just seems like a lot, that’s all,” you said annoyed. “Whatever, forget I said anything.”

Caleb was still eyeing you with that strange look in his eyes when his expression shifted, a sudden thought dawning on him. “Pipsqueak, are ya a virgin?” he asked incredulously.

Of course he made it sound like it was this horrible thing to be one.

“N–no!” you blurted out, your cheeks burning.

Technically, you weren’t. A virgin, that is. You had a high school boyfriend who was your first and only experience in that realm, but the two of you had been inexperienced teenagers fumbling your way through the mechanics of sex, and well… it had been underwhelming to put it nicely. You’d always heard how fun sex could be, but you’d never experienced it yourself, and you were curious about how it might feel with someone different… someone more experienced… maybe even someone like Caleb…

Caleb smirked, and you felt your blood freeze in your veins because you knew that smirk. You knew it all too well. It was the shit-eating grin he’d get when he was about to ruthlessly tease you… and he loved teasing you.

“Pipsqueak’s still a virgin, eh?”

“I am not a virgin, thank you very much. Not that I have to prove anything to you, asshole.”

“Mmhmm.”

Your blood pressure skyrocketed. Caleb had this way of just burrowing under your skin, and you knew… you knew you were playing into his hands, but the skepticism in his gaze had you steaming, and you wanted nothing more than to scratch the disbelief off his face.

“I had a boyfriend in high school, jerk face,” you snapped, “and not that it’s any of your business, but we had sex, okay?”

Caleb mockingly nodded, that stupid impish glint in his eye glittering at you dangerously. “And lemme guess, it was just the one time and ya never orgasmed?”

You snapped your mouth shut, pressing your lips into a thin, tight line, the retort you wanted to throw at him dying in your throat because he was right. You had nothing to say to that. 

“So I’m right,” Caleb sniggered, and you bristled at the infuriating sound.

You hated when he was able to see right through you and used it for his own sick enjoyment.

“Well, I dunno what to tell ya, Pipsqueak.” Caleb shrugged. “I dunno about other guys, but I’m definitely bigger than six inches.”

Your mouth dropped open. Six inches already seemed like a lot of dick, and you couldn’t imagine anyone being bigger than your ex-boyfriend who had been roughly around five, and that had seemed massive to you at the time.

Your curiosity got the better of you, and you cringed when you couldn’t stop the next question tumbling out of your mouth.

“Can I see?”

Caleb’s eyes widened, shocked by your outrageous question. Hell, you shocked yourself asking something so ridiculous, but the next thing you knew, you found yourself splayed on top of Caleb’s extra-long twin size bed trembling violently while he obscenely licked away between your legs doing things with his tongue you never would’ve thought a tongue could do… never would’ve guessed he knew how to do.

Thrilling tingles were running up and down your back building into something you’d never felt before, a dizzying pressure of pleasure tightening in your stomach until you burst, and you shook uncontrollably against Caleb’s mouth suctioned to your bits, ecstasy rolling through you in torrid waves. 

“Thatta girl,” Caleb snickered. “Congrats on your first orgasm, Pipsqueak.”

You wanted to smack him. Or ask him to do that again. Or both. But you just laid there instead, flushed and spent, thinking about how much you’d been missing out in the sex department.

You and Caleb never spoke about what happened after you left. Not once.

But you thought about that night often, how explosive your climax had been from just his mouth, and if a mouth could make you feel so sinfully good, how much better would it be with an actual dick?

As the year progressed, you started dating, which wasn’t hard considering how desperate college boys were for female companionship, and while you didn’t go all the way with them, none of them came close to being able to pleasure you with their clumsy mouths the way Caleb did. They were too rough or too tentative. They used too much tongue or too much of their teeth. They ignored your sweet aching clit or stroked it with too broad of a touch.

Each tryst left you feeling more disappointed. Unsatisfied. Unfulfilled. And no matter how much you tried to relieve yourself of the pent-up frustration building between your legs using your own unpracticed fingers, you couldn’t. It just wasn’t the same.

Which was how you found yourself back in his room, a textbook in your hands, under the false pretenses of wanting his assistance with Biochemistry, one innuendo leading to another until your study session devolved into him shirtless, pinning you down on his narrow bed with his strong, muscular body.

The muscles on his back delightfully rippled under your palms, a stark reminder of how much he’d grown since he left for college. Caleb had always been athletic and toned, but this…?

His hungry lips crushed yours with deep, bruising kisses, his hot breath mingling with yours, sweeping you away in a cloud of his irresistible cologne. You were light headed and woozy, drowning in a sea of everything Caleb, and you wondered how it was possible for you to come undone so quickly from his kisses alone.

“Fuck, Pipsqueak, the things ya do to me,” he huskily groaned, and just the sound of the thready throb in his voice had electricity jolting down your spine and buzzing in your sex.

One large, calloused hand slipped under your shirt, roughly groping your soft breasts and tweaking your firm nipples, and the other trailed up your quivering thigh and under your skirt, deft fingers sliding into your slick opening and curling against a part of you that had you moaning shamelessly and seeing stars. 

He was kneading and pulling and pinching, and as you rocked your hips and arched your back, you thought it couldn’t just be Caleb who could make you feel this heavenly, surely there had to be someone out there who could make your body sing the way Caleb could?

The thought lingered in your mind afterwards for some time.

The next boy you dated felt promising. You weren’t his first girlfriend or his second or even his third. He was older than even Caleb, a senior mere months away from graduating with more experience in four years of college than you’d had in your entire life. He seemed kind and sweet, and he was… He was very sweet, but when you eagerly jumped into bed with him, desperate to feel what Caleb made you feel, you quickly realized he wasn’t very sweet at all. 

He didn’t quite know what to do with his hands or his tongue or his dick, often skipping the foreplay and jackhammering away until he finished without any regard to whether you had cum at all, and as he moaned away, you found yourself squinting at the ceiling wondering if it truly was just Caleb who could make you cum.

You ached. Your body craved release, and no one, not even yourself, was able to give it to you the way Caleb did with just his hands and his mouth. It was like you were addicted, and no matter who you sought out, it seemed as though they would never be good enough compared to his honeyed touch.

You squirmed sitting in his room, despondent at how disappointing your dating life had been. 

“So, how’s the boytoy?” Caleb asked, wiggling his eyebrows like the dumbass he was.

“Awful. We broke up.”

“Aww… why? He seemed nice.” 

You sighed, dejectedly twisting your hair around your fingers, relishing the sting of pain on your scalp when you twisted too hard. “The sex sucked.”

“Ew, Pipsqueak. I don’t need to hear about your sex life.”

“Caleb, you’ve eaten me out and fingered me twice already. I think that ship has sailed,” you stated, finding his response immature and silly.

“Just doesn’t feel right.”

“That… that doesn’t make any sense.” 

And it didn’t. It didn’t make any sense because this man had given you the most divine orgasms of your life and was grimacing at the thought of you having a sex life when the two of you had done practically everything, but actually fuck.

“Yea, I know.” He looked at you pointedly, something you couldn’t read flickering in his eyes. “I just don’t wanna hear about ya with other guys is all.”

You didn’t say anything. You weren’t sure how to interpret what he just said, but you didn’t dwell on it too deeply. You were occupied with the thoughts of yet another failed quest in finding someone other than Caleb to make you feel rapturous joy and whether perhaps… you were the problem.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, twisting your hands together in your lap. “Hey, Caleb?”

“Yeah?”

“Why can’t anyone I date make me cum?”

Caleb observed you silently, the gears slowly turning in his head. “Is that why the sex sucked? Cause ya didn’t have an orgasm?”

“Yeah. The only person who’s been able to give me an orgasm is…” You swallowed thickly. “...is you.”

You whispered the last two words, your confession both humiliating and vulnerable because you didn’t know how Caleb would react. Would he mercilessly tease you like he always did? Or comfort you in a strange turn of events? Or would he… touch you again?

The silence was deafening.

You peeked at Caleb. He looked startled, frozen in place with his magical, immoral mouth hanging open. The tension hung in the air, heavy and palpable, and you waited with bated breath for him to react, to say or do something… anything…

Caleb broke into laughter, wild tremors shaking his stupid, sexy body, and you scowled, the irritation only Caleb could wrench from you bubbling to the surface. You opened your mouth to scathingly retaliate when Caleb wiped the tears from his eyes and cooed, “Aww… is my poor Pipsqueak frustrated? Come here. I’ll make it all better for ya.”

You wanted to vehemently refuse, but your body had a mind of its own, and you melted into Caleb’s embrace when he wrapped you in his arms because… well, who were you kidding really.

“I’m warning ya, though, Pipsqueak. Like I said, I’m bigger than six inches,” he whispered in your ear, his warm breath tickling your earlobe.

You gulped, your heart beating madly in your chest, the anticipation of what was to come flooding you with a blistering heat…

And before you could even process what was happening, you were naked, bracing yourself against the wall, and he was bullying his fat cock into your dripping cunt – and you were dripping because his scent alone drove you insane – stretching you deliciously open, and you gasped because… because, fuck, his cock was just simply godlike.

He wasn’t joking when he said he was bigger than six inches. He was the biggest you’d ever had, and every time his tip kissed your cervix, you keened, your fingernails digging into the standard, white paint of the dorms.

He rutted into you brutally, his broad palm shoving your head into the wall, and your hips bucked back to slam into his because you needed him deeper… harder… 

“Shit, Pipsqueak, taking me so… well,” Caleb grunted, speaking erratically from the exertion. “Ya really…  really aren’t a virgin… are ya?”

“That’s what I’ve… fuck… been saying… you… hah… you asshole!”

Tears stung your eyes because this… this was what you had been searching for… what you craved… what you had been missing in your life.

You were on fire, searing flames blazing into an uncontrollable inferno, ravaging your poor body until there was nothing left and you were shuddering… spasming… pathetically mewling Caleb’s name in strangled sobs.

“Ah, fuck, I can’t— I–” Caleb sputtered, and for the first time, you saw him lose control, and he shouted, “Fuck!” before spilling ribbon after ribbon of his cum into your drooling, convulsing cunt.

It was the first time you’d let someone finish inside of you, and you felt his essence filling you to the brim, creeping out from around his dick and down your quavering inner thighs. Fucking Caleb had been like having a taste of the forbidden fruit, and you smoldered with desire for more… more of the succulent rapture he’d shown you.

Caleb planted his lips on your shoulder, grazing the skin lightly with his teeth, electric sparks radiating from every part of you he touched, and in the depths of your hazy, post-bliss muddled mind, you heard him tauntingly say…

“Geez, Pipsqueak, if ya think that felt good, wait till ya see what I do next.”

[qveerthe0ry]

The D-Files

Summary: Something weird happens when Dieter tries to post his X-Files fanfiction Word Count: 14,941 Pairing: Dieter Bravo x Fox Mulder x Dana Scully Rating: 18+ mdni Warnings: threesome, oral (m & f receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected PIV, rimming, d/s undertones, poor explanation of time travel and quantum physics, it's a little cracky tbh Beta: the one and only @for-a-longlongtime obviously A/N: listen. I have ten episodes left of the whole series so if something is totally off and not accurate to x files canon just ignore me :) Also I'm absolutely aware of how completely ridiculous this fic is but I heard the voice of Dieter Bravo speak to me and could not ignore it Ao3 link

Curled up under at least three blankets, in just his underwear, stoned out of his mind (just weed— he’s California sober now) Dieter watches Mulder and Scully shake hands for the first time. 

The first time for them. 

He’s had to have seen this episode at least a thousand times by now. 

He’s in one of those funks again. His therapist calls it a depressive episode, but that’s so dramatic. He’s just a little bit down in the dumps thinking about how worthless he is and how no one’s ever really loved him before, not even his own parents, and how he hates himself so much he’s not sure if he would ever get rid of the guilt of letting someone else love him because he knows he’d just be a waste of their time.

It’s no big deal. Nothing an X-Files rewatch, weed, and a footlong Subway sandwich can’t fix.

Except this time, the way Scully and Mulder instantly mesh so well kind of makes him feel like he smoked too much pot. His stomach’s a little queasy as he watches him give her his undivided attention, and fuck, maybe this is a job above these FBI agents’ pay grade. 

He eyes that stupid notebook on his nightstand, still wrapped in plastic from the Amazon order. 

His therapist told him to start writing his thoughts down in a journal. He doesn’t like writing. It’s not what he does. He can’t stand those actors who think just because they’ve starred in a few movies means they should start writing them, or scrawling down some convoluted, conceited novel. Just fucking act, y’know? 

But as Scully throws herself into Mulder’s arms after knowing him for only a few days, and they both look so comfortable, Dieter rips open the packaging and swallows down the bile threatening his esophagus.

—

I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be doing here. What should I even write down in this thing? How lonely I am? Get in line, right? I’m not the only one. Even though sometimes it feels like I am.

Maybe it feels so bad because I know I did this to myself. Everyone always told me I’d always be a piece of shit. Even when I was young. And I just let their narrative take over and now here I am. The biggest piece of shit. 

It’s like Mulder. Everyone always called him Spooky and said he was too ‘out there’ and he ended up in the basement chasing Bigfoot. 

Except I don’t have a hot redhead in my life to balance me out or slowly fall in love with me.

And I’m not a tall, boyishly handsome, charming FBI agent. 

I’m just a washed-up actor, and a slob, and a drug addict. That’s probably why.

Golly gee, doc, this sure made me feel better.

—

He writes in his journal a bit here and there. He also slowly rots away in his bed, takes far too little showers and far too many THC gummies. He talks to his therapist two weeks later and tells her he’s been writing down his thoughts and her impressed hum and “That’s very good, Dieter” has him riding a high the rest of the afternoon. 

So he keeps it up. 

He doesn’t leave the house much, and when he does, he just wants to get back into his permanently affixed blanket fort to watch more X-Files and get high. 

He writes a little about his day, about what he’s mulling over in his mind. But as he reaches the end of season two, he’s out of his funk enough to start feeling horny again. 

Who wouldn’t, watching the world’s hottest FBI agents on a near constant loop?

So who can blame him when his journal thoughts get a little spicy?

—

God, Mulder’s such an idiot sometimes. So is Scully. They waste so much time getting on each others’ nerves. This entire show is just years-long foreplay. I swear they get off on irritating each other.

I irritate so many people, why aren’t any of them ever turned on about it? 

They should have just let them kiss in the first season. There could have been so much sex. All the motel rooms these two wasted! On the government’s dime, too! 

Rental car sex, alleyway sex, OFFICE sex. The Sex Files. That’s what this show should have been. 

I wonder if Mulder’s better at eating ass or pussy. I just know he’s freaky with all the porn and phone sex hotlines. And the auto erotic asphyxiation thing, can’t forget about that. I’d choke the shit out of him if he wanted that. With my hand or my cock, his choice. 

I wonder if Scully is freaky, too? I think she’d deny it, but it wouldn’t surprise me if she was filthy kinky. She always has to be in control. I wonder if she’d be like that in bed, too? I wonder if she’d get off on torturing me and making me beg. Or maybe she’s always so in control that she wants to relinquish all of it when she’s in bed.

—

Dieter remembers that fanfiction exists shortly after that. 

His dick is raw and he hasn’t even made it through half of the explicit entries on archive of our own. But everything’s so… Vanilla. 

Don’t get him wrong, he’s a total sucker for tender, missionary love-making. But where’s the experimentation? Where’s the creativity? And why the hell does everyone think Fox Mulder is such a dom?

Just look at him.

He’s pathetic. Scully could have him begging on his knees with nothing but the snap of her finger and one of her sexy, stern glances. Maybe he’s projecting a little bit, but not much.

He gripes to his therapist about this while he avoids the topic of his greatest fear being dying without ever having a meaningful relationship in his whole life.

“Have you ever thought about writing your own fanfiction?”

And no, he truly never has. It seems like something so far away from appropriate given his profession. But then again, when has he ever been totally professional?

So he starts writing. At first he finds himself falling into the popular tropes— love confessions and sweet, romantic first times. Just little blurbs in his journal he ends up scrawling out with his pen. There’s enough of that already. He needs to explore the fun stuff with these two.

One night/early morning, he finally grabs his laptop from his rarely-used office. He snuggles up under all the blankets he can find, turns on The X-Files, and gets down to business. 

—

“I’m sorry Scully—”

“Don’t.”

Her icy blue stare pins Mulder in place. His pouty lips close and his sharp jaw clenches as he looks down at his feet.

“You almost got us killed!”

“I wouldn’t have let you get hurt, you know that.”

Scully doesn’t know what comes over her, but she crosses what little distance is between them to grab the back of Mulder’s hair and tug.

His jaw drops and as hard as he tries, he can’t stifle the whimper that slips from his lip. 

“You were reckless with your own life. You can’t— Do you know what I would do if anything ever happened to you?”

Scully’s sharp gaze softens. Tears prickle at Mulder’s eyes, partly from Scully’s death grip and partly because of the way her voice wavers. 

“Scully—”

“Get on your knees.”

——

Dieter fights the heavy, sharp arousal in his gut as he writes Mulder on his knees for Scully. He just knows he’d eat pussy like a champ, what with those sunflower seeds he’s always got between those pillowy lips. He’d be great at sucking cock, too. Dieter thinks they would look so fucking pretty around his own dick.

Or Scully’s strap. 

Perfect.

He stays awake for way too long, writing about Scully trapping Mulder between her thighs for hours, and then making him choke or her strap, and then making him beg and whimper and cry for it as she teases his prostate with her fingers. 

Scully’s so dainty, but the idea of her fucking into her big, tall partner with fury has Dieter leaking into his boxers as he types away. It takes all of Dieter’s willpower to write the sweet aftercare scene. Scully gently cleans up his cum and sweat and tears, telling him what a good boy he was as she pets his hair and kisses his face. 

As soon as Dieter writes the last words, he’s fumbling for his lube and dildo in the bedside drawer. He’s too worked up to prepare properly, and it burns, and he hears Scully’s disappointed tuts in his head as he fucks himself into a mess. 

He whines her name, and Mulder’s name, as filthy images of the two fill his head. 

He comes without even touching his dick. He makes an absolute mess of his sheets and just grinds into the puddle beneath him as he fucks himself through the aftershocks. 

And if he cries a little bit at the thought of two beautiful FBI agents telling him how good he was as they stroke his sweaty skin, that’s between him and his open laptop. 

—

“Do you think I should post my fanfiction?”

His therapist’s perfectly shaped eyebrows perk up. 

“Do you think you should post it?”

“I dunno. Probably not.”

“Why not?”

“Wouldn’t it be a little weird? An actor writing fanfiction about characters his peers portrayed?”

His therapist hums. He knows that’s his cue to keep talking, but they just sit in silence for a bit. 

“Do you want to post it?” She asks. 

He huffs. 

“I don’t know. What if everyone hates it?”

She shrugs and nods at him to continue.

“I’m afraid no one’s gonna read it. Or if they do, they’ll hate it. And leave mean comments.”

“Would that bother you?”

“Well yeah, duh.”

She hums again. Dieter rolls his eyes, half at her but half at himself. 

“I know, I know,” he sighs, “I’m a walking contradiction. I crave praise but I’m too afraid to put myself out there to receive any.”

“That’s not necessarily true. You’re an actor. It’s your job to put yourself out there and be consumed and reviewed.”

“Yeah but that’s not me, it’s just the guy they tell me to play.”

His therapist smiles. 

Shit. 

“I think you know what you need to do, Dieter.”

He does leave that therapy session crying, thirty minutes later. If he had a tail, it would be between his legs. 

It takes him six days to work up enough courage to even make an account. And then another two days to pour over every single word he wrote, change it, change it back, wash rinse and repeat. 

When he finally works up the nerve to post it, his laptop dies just as he’s about to press the publish button. 

You gotta be kidding me, he thinks, maybe this is a sign.

But then he thinks about what his therapist would say, that things that are worth it rarely come easy, and that he should probably stop assuming everything is a sign, and so he plugs his laptop in and waits for it to charge enough to come back to life. 

It’s the longest four minutes of his life. 

He stares at the black screen in silence. He blinks at his reflection as he listens to the storm brewing outside his window, only flinching slightly as lightning illuminates his dark room. 

His heart leaps up into his throat when the screen lights up again. Everything’s right where he left it. All he has to do is press that little button. 

He takes one, two, three deep breaths with his finger on the trigger and then—

CRACK

—

Everything hurts. Like, bad.

Dieter groans and tries to blink his eyes open. It’s bright. He’s no stranger to waking up in an unfamiliar place with a terrible headache and no recollection of how or why he’s there. However, he hasn’t touched a party drug in a year and a half, and hasn’t even been to a party for even longer than that. 

He finally blinks away the sleep in his eyes. He’s on the cold ground. The grass is plush and dewy under him. When he sits up, the world spins around him for a few moments and he just barely keeps his stomach from emptying. 

He checks his pockets. At least he has his phone on him. No wallet, though. And he’s in his pajamas, which is fine, not unusual attire for most of his outings. 

He goes to unlock his phone but of course it’s dead. 

Shit. 

He looks around a bit more and all this scenery does not look like Los Angeles. There are hills in the distance that are much more rolling than the jagged peaks in California. The smell of campfire fills the air and it’s humid, he realizes. Stiflingly so. 

He stands up. His joints ache even more than they usually do, stiff and popping. When he runs his hand through his hair he’s got wicked bed head. 

At least he can make out a dirt path amongst the grass and trees around him. He follows it for a while, and just as he thinks he might be wandering to his own death out in the boonies he sees a little shack in the clearing just by what seems to be a lake. 

It looks… Strangely familiar, despite the fact that he’s certain he’s never been here before. There’s a sign that reads “Bait & Tackle” that’s seen better days and a big giant inflatable… something tied down to the roof. 

He scratches his head as he stares. He has the feeling of something being on the tip of his tongue, but it’s on the tip of his brain instead. 

As he approaches, a high-pitched growl startles him out of his daze. His eyes frantically search for the source, and as he walks closer he spots it.

A tiny little yappy Pomeranian, tan and fluffy. 

It hits him all at once. 

He gasps and moves toward the fiesty little thing as his heart pounds. There’s no way…

It snarls and yaps at him as he crouches down to greet it— him. 

Once he starts giving the dog butt pats and head scratches, it warms up to him pretty quickly. He searches for the dog tag hiding under all that fur and gasps as he reads it.

QUEEQUEG

“Oh my god, Queequeg, I thought I’d never see you again, buddy.”

The pup wags his tail at the sound of his name and Dieter goes down on his knees to accept him into his lap. 

“How are you real? What’s happening?”

Tears well at Dieter’s eyes as he holds this fictional dog in his arms, who’s been dead since season 3. Sue him, he’s very confused and vulnerable and it was the most devastating death of the series by far.

As he pets the derpy little thing, he tries to wrap his head around everything that’s going on. Last he remembers, he was holding his breath and clicking the mouse pad and now he’s here, in the middle of nowhere Georgia if he remembers his X-Files trivia correctly. 

Which means this sweet little pup is going to die in this… episode? And if he’s in the episode, that means—

“Hey! What are you doing? That’s my dog!”

Dieter’s heart pounds, heavy and fast, like he’s done way too much coke. He looks up with wide eyes and it’s unmistakable, her bright red hair and sexy scowl and the lanky handsome man attached to her hip. 

“Scully?”

Dieter watches her face twist up in confusion, and watches Mulder’s eyebrows raise with a smirk on his face as he looks between him and his partner. 

“You know this guy, Scully?”

She squints at Dieter as they walk closer. He feels very warm under her gaze. He pets Queequeg’s head for comfort.

“No, I don’t. What’s your name?”

Dieter clears his throat. 

“You don’t recognize me?”

Mulder presses his lips together, trying to hide his amused smile as he nudges Scully’s side. 

“Should I?”

“Wait… what year is it?”

Scully’s face turns from annoyed to concerned. She kneels down in front of Dieter and looks into his eyes, and her gaze is too heavy, it spears right through him. 

“It’s 1995. Are you concussed?”

“No, I don’t think so. I mean— Maybe. Probably, to be honest. It’s 1995?”

“Has been for five months, now,” Mulder supplies. 

Dieter nods. 

“Do you know where you are?”

“I think so… listen. You guys aren’t gonna believe this— well, Mulder might believe it— But I’m from the future.”

Scully’s concerned gaze turns right back to annoyed very quickly, and she stands back up to cross her arms. 

Mulder just chuckles. 

“How do you know our names?” He asks.

Dieter feels a little weird on the ground while they’re staring down at him, in a horny way, so he gently places Queequeg back on the gravel to stand up himself.

“Would you believe it if I said I’m from an alternate reality where you guys are the main characters in a cult classic sci-fi television series?”

Mulder blinks at him. Dieter shrugs with a sheepish grin.

“Honestly? That’s more believable than the time travel.”

Dieter smirks. 

“That’s such a Scully thing to say.”

“That is such a Scully thing to say,” Mulder agrees. 

“Oh my god.”

“I can prove it! I swear. C’mon, let’s get this little guy safe and sound in your cabin and I’ll prove everything.”

Mulder shrugs, and gives Scully one of his looks, the c’mon, let’s see where this goes look that Dieter’s so used to seeing. 

She just scoffs.

“Mulder, we don’t have time for this. People are dying left and right, you’re on a wild sea-monster chase, and half the town is—”

“Wait, Scully, look at this guy. He’s going to tell you another body’s been found in the lake. Well— half of a body.”

They all turn to the man running up from the docks, and sure enough, it plays out almost exactly how Dieter remembers from the episode. Scully’s very focused on the legs floating in the lake, but Mulder keeps eyeing him in a way that makes him wish he was wearing something more than just flimsy pajama pants. 

“Scully…” Mulder mumbles as they walk back toward their car, “I think we should hear him out.”

“Hear him out!? We should be shoving him in handcuffs, he’s the only suspect we have that isn’t mythical.”

“I’d be into that, actually,” Dieter says, holding his hands out toward them, wrists pressed together. 

Scully grimaces and Mulder smirks but he drapes an arm around her shoulder in a way that seems suspiciously protective. 

“There’s not enough evidence to cuff him, but we can at least keep him close and see what else we can get out of him.” 

“Mulder—”

“If anything, he can just dogsit for us.”

The way they’re talking about him like he’s not even there makes the tips of his ears burn.

“I’d love to dogsit! I miss Queequeg.”

“What do you mean you miss him? He’s right here.”

Dieter winces. 

“Actually that’s a big plot point in this episode,” Dieter whispers.

They stop at the car and Scully glares at him, and Mulder looks a little bit like he’s just brought a stray dog home without her permission. Dieter kinda likes it.

“You never told us your name,” Scully grills.

“Dieter. Dieter Bravo.”

Mulder huffs. 

“What kind of name is Dieter Bravo? Do you do adult films?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Fox?”

The way the giggle bubbles up out of Scully’s chest makes him preen. 

“Alright. Where do you live, Dieter?”

He winces and scratches the back of his neck.

“Los Angeles.”

“Oh brother,” Scully grumbles. 

“How did you get here then?”

“Y’know, it’s the weirdest thing. I was writing a fanfiction about the two of you and when I went to post it, I think lightning struck my house and sent me here.”

The two agents stare at him in silence for so long that Dieter has the time to question every single moment that has led up to this. He determines that this is all his therapist’s fault when Mulder finally clears his throat. 

“You can bunk with me until we get everything sorted out, alright?”

Dieter straightens up and salutes him.

“Yes, sir, Agent Mulder.”

Scully rolls her eyes and turns to open the car door for him, but Mulder smirks.

“I think I kinda like this guy, Scully.”

——

Mulder’s nice enough to let him shower and lend him spare clothes that aren’t caked in mud and grass stains, once they’re back at the cabin. He cleans up in silence trying to wrap his head around this entire pickle he’s in, and how to go about making them believe him.

He’s got his work cut out with Scully, he knows this. But he works over every bit of information he can remember from each season, each episode, to remember something that couldn’t be denied. 

They’re doing their Scully and Mulder thing when he comes out with damp hair and Mulder’s clothes on. (He definitely had to will away a half-chub at the thought of being wrapped in his things.) 

They sit around the small living room with photos and paperwork all sprawled out and Dieter feels like geeking out a little bit. This is like the world’s greatest and most interactive X-Files museum. 

“Okay. I’m going to try to do this in the best way I know how. Just— Bear with me.”

They sit back in their seats, and Dieter lifts Queequeg onto his lap to take his place on the couch. He waits for them to give him a go-ahead, but neither of them are responsive. He tries not to feel so aroused by their focused gazes. Maybe he should have jerked off in the shower, as a precaution.

“Okay then… let’s see… this is Season 3, Episode… 22? So. You guys just went through the whole Skinner thing, right? With his— his bad dreams lady killing that prostitute?”

“How do you know Skinner?”

“I told you, it’s a TV show. Skinner’s always busting your balls. Big tough assistant director business. He’s actually just a softy though, I think.”

Scully looks disinterested and a little annoyed, but Mulder’s starting to shift forward in his seat.

“What’s the show called?”

“The X-Files.”

Scully snorts. 

“How creative.”

“Okay, okay, I know. It sounds whacky. But I’ve seen the show a billion times over, I’ve been unknowingly preparing for this moment since the pilot aired.”

He takes a moment to determine what to say and how to word it before he continues.

“Okay… Well… Your first case together was that weird kid in Oregon that kept helping aliens abduct his classmates. Scully conveniently missed the UFO though. Ever the skeptic. Then… let’s see… Deep Throat turns up in the next episode. Scully, he ended up dying in your arms and his last words were trust no one.”

“Mulder, we’ve been bugged for 90 percent of the time we’ve known each other, this doesn’t mean anything.”

Dieter huffs and Mulder shrugs. 

“Keep going. Give us a deep cut, man. You gotta try harder than that.”

“When did you become the skeptic, Mulder?” 

The agent shrugs and raises his eyebrows to urge him to continue. 

“Okay… Scully, when you were at your god son’s birthday party, you told your friend that Mulder is a jerk.”

“Hey, what the hell, Scully?”

“No, I said he was just—”

“Obsessed with his work, yeah. After you called him a jerk though.”

Dieter hates to see the way Mulder’s eyebrows draw up in the middle. It’s kind of funny to see Scully so embarrassed, though. He figures he’ll keep what else she said to himself, about him being cute, because it looks like she’s praying that he doesn’t blab about it.

“You wound me, Scully.”

“Oh, yeah, and there’s the time you shot Mulder in the shoulder.”

“You’re kind of a bully, y’know?”

Scully shoves at his shoulder to prove their point, and Mulder just laughs and leans into it. 

“Do you want to know what happens in the future? Wait, if I affect the future will the show be different? I dunno how I feel about that… new X-Files episodes in 2024 would be incredible. But what if the new episodes suck, though?”

“2024? That’s what year you’re going with?” 

Dieter nods. 

“It kinda sucks. We have smartphones and streaming services and stuff but also, you wouldn’t believe who the last president was if I told you. Also there was a global pandemic. Still kinda is one, but everyone’s just ignoring it. Actually, come to think of it, you guys would thrive in 2024.”

“Do we die before then?”

“Oh, no, no, the show just finished. And then came back and then— it’s a whole thing. But neither of you die.”

“Hmm.”

Mulder hums, and Dieter knows exactly what he’s thinking. Scully too, by the faraway look on her face. Total idiots. Why couldn’t he have landed at least after the first kiss. Or even the almost-kiss?

“Well, I’m tired, and this case isn’t going to solve itself. And Queequeg needs to go potty, so, I think we’re done here.”

Dieter’s whole body feels hot, like the time he was stabbed in the chest with that epi-pen. He shoots up off the couch so fast that Queequeg yelps and hops down to cower behind Scully’s ankles.

“Wait! It’s an alligator. Literally. It’s just an ordinary alligator killing these people. And if you let Queequeg walk into the woods he’s going to get eaten and if there’s one single thing you believe me about it has to be this, okay? For Queequeg’s sake.”

Dieter’s got his hands clasped in front of him, pleading. Scully looks startled and Mulder looks awed, but he’s desperate to drive this point home. 

“…Okay. I’ll keep him close. Thank you.”

They think he’s crazy. Scully does, at least. Mulder’s just quiet, uncharacteristically so. 

“Thank you.”

“Alright,” she sighs, grabbing Queequeg’s leash and hooking him up, “goodnight guys.”

“Goodnight Scully.”

Dieter sighs and sits back down. 

“She thinks I’m insane, doesn’t she?” 

“Welcome to the club.”

Dieter chuckles and looks to Mulder. He’s still got that pensive look on his face. It suits him, all brooding with that fucking jawline and those plush lips and sad eyes. He wants to kiss him so bad. He almost says it out loud, so used to his horny musings while watching this guy on TV that his filter is a little out of whack. 

Dieter doesn’t even realize he’s staring until Mulder tilts his head at him, confused. He opens his mouth and takes a breath but the door ripping open cuts him off. 

“Mulder, there’s something in the woods; Dieter was right. I think we should check it out.”

Mulder jumps up at her beck and call and seeing it in person is even more overwhelming, how he follows her without question and trusts her, so eagerly. 

“Queequeg?”

“He’s here, can you watch him?”

Dieter nods.

“Me? Yeah, yes ma’am, Agent Scully.”

He doesn’t miss the amused look on her face just before the door slams shut behind them. 

He lies on the couch with Queequeg on his chest, enjoying the silence after the… everythingness of his day. He really wishes he could smoke some pot, but even if he could get his hands on some, he’s sure it would be weak as hell. And there’s the FBI agent thing. 

Dieter’s not sure how long he’s been staring at nothing and snuggling Queequeg when the cabin door finally opens again. 

“Did you catch the alligator?”

The eerie silence he’s met with makes him whip his head around. Scully and Mulder are staring at him. He’s pretty sure 80 percent of his X-Files fantasies have started exactly like this. 

“… We did. We caught it just in time to save Ted Bertram.”

“That’s the guy with the lake monster feet, right?”

They both nod slowly. 

Queequeg hops down from his perch on Dieter’s chest, so he sits up. 

“I told you. You guys believe me now?”

He watches as Mulder nods his head yes and Scully shakes her head no. All he can do is shrug and start wondering what’s next for him, in the year of 1995.

“Hey, do you guys need an assistant? I could tell you how to solve the next case! I think it’s the one with the mind control cable. Mulder, are you really red-green color blind? I think that was a major plot hole. How do you tell the difference between human blood and alien blood if one is red and one is green, then?”

“Mulder’s not colorblind,” Scully says. 

“Uhh… Actually, yeah. I am.”

“What? How did you pass the color vision test?”

“I’m colorblind, not an idiot. I can still tell them apart, they just look different to me than they would to you.”

“I— I can’t believe you’ve been colorblind this entire time.” 

Mulder shrugs. Then his brow quirks up.

“Why does that matter?”

“I’m not sure I should tell you. It might mess with the space-time continuum and— quantum physics, you know?”

Scully’s clearly had enough. She sighs and finally kicks off her shoes. 

“I’m grabbing a shower and clearing my head,” she says, “don’t— don’t let him out of your sight for now, Mulder.”

Mulder nods and half smiles at her. They both look pretty tired. He wants to remind them that he’s the one who traveled 29 years into the past today, but it seems like a pretty sore subject. 

They stand still and silent in the living room until Scully closes her bedroom door behind her, Queequeg in tow.

“You heard the woman. There’s a TV in my room.”

Mulder nods toward the other bedroom door and Dieter follows dutifully.

“Does it get the good channels?”

He hears Mulder chuckle and watches from behind as he sheds his jacket. He admires all those lean muscles in his back, now that he’s not wearing one of those god awful baggy suits. Maybe he should suggest a tailor, he thinks, and wonders if the later seasons would be filled with more eye candy if he did. 

“You know about that?”

“All the video tapes that aren’t yours? And the hotline lady that leaves messages on your answering machine? Yeah. You wouldn’t believe what porn is like in thirty years. You’re gonna love it.”

Dieter’s torn between looking away and staring shamelessly while Mulder unbuttons his fly. He settles for nonchalant, hoping his eyes don’t pop out of their sockets like a cartoon character when he notices the outline of Little Mulder. This is even better than the gray sweatpants in the Humbug episode. 

“I was hoping to kick the habit in thirty years’ time, actually.”

Dieter shrugs and his staring contest with Mulder’s crotch ends abruptly as he slides into a pair of pajama pants. Which is weird, because usually Mulder sleeps in his underwear. Must be the fact that he’s sharing a cabin with Scully.

Mulder throws Dieter the remote and settles onto the bed. There’s no couch in here, not even a cuck chair, so Dieter settles next to him. His whole body burns. God, if 20-year-old Dieter could see himself now, he’d ruin the pants he was wearing. 

The silence feels a little awkward, so he turns the TV on. Nineties TV is so simple. It’s easy to settle on a channel playing Invasion of the Body Snatchers and sink into the mattress under him. 

It only takes a few moments before he realizes Mulder’s staring holes into the side of his face. 

“What’s up?” Dieter asks. 

There’s so little room between them it’s making Dieter’s entire body throb along with his pulse. 

“You’re telling the truth.”

Dieter nods and tries to give him a reassuring smile. Mulder sighs and throws his head back onto the pillow. His eyes close and his brows furrow and his jaw does that sexy clenching thing again. It’s all Dieter can do to not bite at it and soothe the sting with his tongue. 

“What happens to us?”

Dieter clears his throat.

“I mean— I know, you shouldn’t affect the future, yadda yadda. I just…”

Fuck it, Dieter thinks, if I’ve already solved the case way before the episode is supposed to end, I’ve thrown everything off anyway.

“You end up together.”

Mulder lets out a big, long breath. His face instantly relaxes. His hands flex by his sides and Dieter goes out on a big giant limb and grabs one of them.

Mulder starts at the touch, but lets it happen. 

“When?”

“Way later than you should have shacked up, in my opinion.”

He grumbles. 

“My opinion, too.”

“You should make a move, then. I’m pretty sure at this point she’s only waiting for you to make a move.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Oh, it’s a whole thing involving a shapeshifting guy with a tail. Trust me. She’s got it just as bad.”

They’re still holding hands. Mulder hasn’t moved a muscle. An idea so bright pops into Dieter’s head that he’s certain there’s a lightbulb floating above him. 

“You know when you met Bambi on that cockroach case?”

Mulder nods. 

“She was so jealous. Didn’t you pick up on that?”

“I— I thought so. But I also thought she was just annoyed with me, y’know, how she usually is.”

Dieter squeezes his hand. 

“She was annoyed because she’s into you, dude. It was envy. Very, very clearly.”

He hums. 

“So? What now? Do I apologize for something that happened months ago? You apparently know Scully as well as I do, how do you think that’ll blow over? ‘Hey, sorry I made you jealous because you have a big fat crush on me.’ She’d deck me.”

Dieter shakes his head. 

“No, man. You need to make her jealous. So jealous she can’t deny why she’s upset with you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, and I mean, why not just start right now, y’know? Get a head start on the whole thing. I mean, you’re here, I’m here, there’s only one bed…”

“If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were coming onto me.”

“I would love to come on you, actually.”

Mulder laughs, and Dieter deflates a little at the sound. But when he goes to pull his hand away, Mulder cinches it in his own. 

“Dieter…”

“Mulder.”

“We’re doing this, then?”

Dieter nods like an overexcited puppy wagging its tail. Oh my god. Oh my god. Fox Mulder in his prime, how fucking lucky can one guy be?

Mulder glances at the door to make sure it’s open. The faint sound of running water can be heard from Scully’s room, and he thinks he smells her shampoo wafting out with the steam. 

Like two nervous teenagers, they shift to face one another. Dieter brings their joined hands together on his own hip. Mulder’s palm is warm on his skin where his shirt rides high, and it makes Dieter’s breath hitch. 

Slowly, Dieter urges him to keep his hand still with a squeeze before mirroring Mulder’s, creeping his hand under his shirt and feeling his solid, trim waist.

Mulder hums into his touch and Dieter realizes this man is possibly just as touch-starved as he is. He starts swirling circles into his skin with his thumb and inches forward, but those beautiful hazel eyes hold apprehension in their timid gaze.

“What if this blows up in my face?” Mulder whispers.

“It won’t. I guarantee it. I’ll make sure of it. Trust me?”

A soft grin tugs at Mulder’s lips and he nods, and it’s all the permission Dieter needs.

Christ, his lips are soft. Soft and plush and exactly how Dieter imagined only a million times better. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this good, not on any drug, and they’re just kissing. 

It’s chaste until he feels Mulder’s tongue prod at the seam of his lips and then it’s filthy. As soon as Dieter opens his mouth to him, Mulder takes it with a grunt. His blunt nails dig into the soft flesh at Dieter’s hip as he traces the arch of his bottom teeth. Dieter tries to keep up, but his brain constantly shorts out at the thought of who’s tongue is poking and prodding around in his mouth. 

He’s a great fucking kisser. His tongue tickles the roof of Dieter’s mouth and it makes him shiver, makes his cock swell against his borrowed sweatpants, against Mulder. 

He doesn’t seem deterred. Quite the opposite actually. He tugs Dieter by the hip and presses his own solid prick right up against Dieter’s, and they both groan into the sloppy kiss. 

“It’s been quite a while,” Mulder says. 

Dieter can’t tell if the huffed little laugh is directed toward the eager way he chases Mulder’s lips, or toward himself for being out of practice. He likes the thought of either. 

“For me, too,” Dieter mumbles. 

Mulder hums and rolls his hips. As their dicks press together and twitch, Dieter decides they are not naked enough by any means. 

He presses his hand up, up, bringing Mulder’s shirt with it and grabbing a handful of his sturdy pec, admiring how stiff it feels under his palm when his lungs inflate. He gets with the program, and Dieter pulls his own shirt over his head, then promptly salivates over all the lean muscles and wiry hair and pale skin in front of him. 

“Fuck,” he breathes.

It’s not until Mulder’s breath hitches does he realize he might actually be into this, not just their plan, but being here in bed with Dieter. His pretty hazel eyes are dark now, pupils blown out, and his chest is heaving, and the tent in his pajama pants is far too enticing to resist. 

Dieter reaches down to cup him through the flannel material and Mulder gasps and falls flat onto his back. His eyes close and his jaw hangs open like an invitation. Dieter wiggles and shifts to press up against the length of his side and to finally press his face into the crook of his neck. 

The hint of aftershave that’s been teasing him all day is now overwhelming his senses, sharp and spicy. Dieter is delighted to know that his skin tastes just as delicious as it smells, salty and heady under his tongue. Mulder’s prick throbs in his grasp and Dieter’s torn between wanting to tease him over his pants and feel the hot skin of his cock in his palm. 

“Feels good,” Mulder whispers. 

“Yeah?”

“Mmm.”

Dieter nips at his racing pulse first, then down to his jaw and the impressive five o’clock shadow he’s always been jealous and in awe of. The prickly hairs there tickle his tongue and lips, and he grinds into the outside of Mulder’s thigh for a bit of relief. 

“You think about Scully doing this?” 

The way Mulder’s dick jolts in his grasp is answer enough, but he speaks up anyway. 

“Yes.”

The admission is so hot it makes Dieter’s brain spin. He himself has thought of it many times before, Scully torturing him with teasing touches, her little sharp canines digging into his flesh, but the thought of Mulder thinking of it too… 

All those heated glances Dieter’s mulled over, he wonders how many of those were fueled by Mulder’s dirty thoughts about her. Wonders how many times he’s seen a flash of something in Mulder’s gaze and it’s been him fantasizing about getting Scully in bed. 

Dieter huffs against the heated skin of Mulder’s neck before he pulls back. His head his thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, and he’s fucking gorgeous. He lightens his touch, teases the underside of his cock with one fingertip, and delights in the pleasure scrawled across Mulder’s face. 

“How often?”

Mulder’s gravelly chuckle is cut off by a low groan when Dieter presses against his sac over his pajamas. 

“All the time,” he confesses, “every time.”

“In the office?”

Mulder whimpers and nods his head. 

“On the job, in the field?”

“God yes.”

Dieter hums, squeezes his balls to goad him into continuing.

“When she— when she’s so serious, it’s hot. She’s so smart, it turns me on.”

Dieter smirks. He completely sympathizes.

“You like it when she debunks you?”

Mulder whines and nods his head again. Dieter tries his hardest not to react to the sound of the water shutting off across the cabin, or Scully’s door creaking open. Instead, he shoves his hand down Mulder’s pants and hopes to god he keeps his eyes closed, hopes Scully’s ever present need to call out his name is tampered down when she inevitably hears him talking. 

Mulder gasps and raises his hips into the circle of Dieter’s hand, and his brows furrow as he shuts his eyes even tighter.

“Why?”

Mulder moans. 

“Because she— she balances me out. Makes me feel even. Whole.”

Dieter chuckles. 

“Aww, does she complete you, Foxy?” 

He scoffs but bites his lip when Dieter thumbs at his head and spreads his slick, sticky pre-cum all around. 

“Tell me what you think about, Mulder.”

His breathing is so ragged that Dieter thinks he should maybe be concerned. But he can tell things are about to come to a head, can hear Scully’s little footsteps inching closer to their room, pointedly quiet. 

“Her, I think about her body against mine. And touching her.”

As if on cue, fiery red hair peeks through the door frame. Dieter’s got his free hand up and a finger at his lips before Scully’s face can even twist up in concern and shock. He gives her a pleading look as she stands stock-still and wide-eyed. 

“Where would you touch Scully, if she was here?”

“Everywhere. Anywhere she wants me to. I just wanna make her feel good.”

Dieter turns his head back to Mulder to confirm that his eyes are still closed. They are, positively scrunched shut as sweat threatens to penetrate his brows and slip into his eyes.

“Do you wanna taste her?” 

Mulder’s breath hitches and his cock pulses and dribbles more against Dieter’s hand. 

“Yes, yes, so bad. I think about it every time I— every time I touch myself.”

Dieter turns back to Scully. Her hair is damp and her silky pajama top is unbuttoned more than it was just a moment ago. It just barely hides her heaving chest and he has a hard time not giving her away when he realizes his plan is working. Her lips are parted and wet, like she’s licked them, and god he really fucking hopes they don’t kick him out once this all comes to a head. 

“You do?” 

“Mm-hmm,” Mulder nods, “I could spend the rest of my life down there and die happy.”

Dieter chuckles then, and Mulder does too, but he opens his eyes. It takes him just a second to blink and adjust but, ever the vigilant one, his eyes jolt toward the now closed bedroom door and Scully standing in front of it. His body goes stiff and still, aside from his prick, which twitches wildly in Dieter’s grasp. 

Mulder’s voice cracks amusingly around Scully’s name. She crosses her arms and lifts one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows as she shuffles to the foot of the bed. 

“Boys.”

Dieter smiles sheepishly at her. Mulder’s staring and gaping like a fish out of water, all tense now, one elbow on the bed so he can prop himself up. Dieter doesn’t miss the way Scully’s eyes trace over his naked torso or the activity going on at the front of Mulder’s pajamas. 

“Is it true, Mulder?”

He’s nodding his head before she can even finish the question. 

“Yeah, Scully. I—” 

He cuts himself off when Dieter squeezes and strokes him, and Scully’s gaze is locked on the movement.

“It certainly feels like the truth,” Dieter supplies. 

Mulder whimpers under him and Dieter swears he sees Scully’s ears perk up at the sound, like some kind of predator. 

“Mulder, c’mere.”

God, the way he follows so readily, like he always does, it warms Dieter’s heart just as much as it makes his dick throb. He kneels on the edge of the bed right in front of her. His cock is protruding obscenely out in front of him, but Scully doesn’t seem to care about that. 

No, she’s focused on his face instead where it’s settled gently between her dainty hands. God, the way they look at each other is so fucking intoxicating. Dieter’s bound by it, physically stuck on the mattress as he watches. 

Her brows furrow slightly as she looks at him, but Mulder’s face is slack, almost dazed as he meets her eyes. 

“What did he tell you, Mulder?” 

Mulder shifts awkwardly from knee to knee. His mouth opens and closes a few times, and she giggles under her breath. 

“You’re not in trouble.”

Dieter laughs, and god, it’s so fucking weird. It’s like he’s watching a director’s cut. 

Mulder sighs, though. 

“We end up together, Scully. You and me. And I— I believe it. I believed it long before this guy showed up, and it… Out of everything I believe, everything I’ve been working toward… it might be the only belief I have that keeps me going.”

Scully’s gaze grows soft as his confession, and Dieter refrains from squealing in delight at how sweet Mulder sounds and how Mulder it all is.

“Why now, then?”

Mulder huffs and tries to turn away, but she keeps his face tight in her grasp. His cheeks are so pink. 

“Just worked up the guts, I guess.”

Dieter doesn’t miss the quick flicker of Scully’s eyes down to his lips. His fingers twitch with the urge to smash their faces together. 

She sighs and brushes some errant strands of hair from Mulder’s forehead. 

“Well,” she says, and her voice wavers with a heavy breath, “I’m glad one of us did.”

Mulder visibly melts. His shoulders slump and he leans forward into her touch. His face loses all of that tension from earlier, and his lips look loose when Scully’s own finally brushes against them. 

He’s so gentle with her, in a way he definitely wasn’t with Dieter. His hands are nearly hovering over her with how lightly he places them on her waist. His lips stay slack and still as he lets her control the kiss. The only thing giving him away is the comical bobbing of his prick disrupting the front of his pajamas, and there’s no way Dieter can blame him for that. 

One of Scully’s hands tangles in Mulder’s hair and produces a beautiful, high pitched sound that Dieter and Scully both react to. 

She pulls away. Mulder chases her lips, but her grip on his hair tightens. He curses under his breath with a face more flushed than Dieter’s ever seen on him.

Her eyes flicker over to Dieter and he feels like a deer in headlights. Why is he still here? Is this weird, is he being a creep for staying? 

“C’mere,” she mumbles, tipping her head to urge him to kneel right beside Mulder on the bed. 

He does, of course he does. He wants to be good for her, for them.

He kneels, shoulder to shoulder with the man panting beside him. He grasps his hands behind his back and waits patiently as she looks the both of them over. 

“What did I walk in on, Dieter?”

The way his name sounds coming from her low, rasping voice makes his spine tingle. 

“It was my idea, Agent Scully. I was trying to make you jealous. I’m sorry.”

She clicks her tongue and the noise makes his cock throb. 

“And you went along with this plan?”

She looks back to Mulder and Dieter shivers. He instantly misses the warmth of her gaze. 

“I— yeah. I did... It worked, didn’t it?”

Scully’s eyes narrow, and Dieter can’t tell if Mulder’s an idiot or a genius for riling her up. He should have known Fox Mulder would be a brat. He thinks if he plays his cards right, maybe Scully will forget the whole plot and he can be her good boy while Mulder gets punished for his smart mouth. 

A whimper falling from Mulder’s parted lips knocks him out of his daze and he notices Scully’s grip all tight in his floppy hair. 

Fuck, he wishes that were him. Maybe he should mouth off too, maybe then he’ll get the attention that he craves. 

“Get on your knees, Mulder.”

“I am on my knees.”

Dieter gasps as Scully tugs on his hair and leaves him no choice but to scramble off of the edge of the bed, lest she rip all that perfectly coiffed hair out of his head. His shoulders rise and fall with baited breath when he’s finally sunken his knees on the gaudy rug on the hardwood floors. Dieter whimpers and no one’s even touching him. 

“You too, time bandit.”

Dieter gets whiplash with how quickly he gets on his knees for her. He breathes out a labored ‘yes ma’am’ and Mulder throws him a look of disbelief. He shrugs, what can I say?

They’re both rock hard for her, on the floor, staring up at her. She looks like an angel, or the devil, or maybe like God herself. Her breathing is suspiciously calm compared to their own, even though her nipples create tantalizing nubs at the front of her silk pajamas. 

“Keep your eyes forward, both of you.”

Dieter nods at her commanding voice. He wants to look to Mulder for— direction? Comfort? Some kind of trauma bonding? But he doesn’t. He wants to be good. 

He hears Scully behind them, bed creaking under her weight, sheets ruffling underneath her. There’s a pregnant pause where all of their heavy breathing can be heard and the anticipation is so much Dieter might explode on the spot. 

“Strip.”

Twin breaths release from both Dieter and Mulder and he swears he hears her giggle behind them. He’s quick to comply, tugging at the drawstring of Mulder’s sweats he’s borrowed and awkwardly shuffling them off while he tries to stay kneeling. 

He notices Mulder still motionless beside him. 

“Scully…”

Idiot, Dieter thinks. 

“Good boy, Dieter, doing exactly what I say.”

He can’t help the satisfied smirk that twists his lips up, or the way the back of his neck burns at the praise. In his peripheral, Mulder hastily shucks his pajama pants. 

He has a pretty cock. Dieter knew he would. Everything else about him is pretty. It’s long and lean, just like he is, and the upward curve of it makes him jealous. It’s going to feel so good for Scully, if she lets him fuck her. 

There’s more shuffling behind them, and he flinches when a pair of satin pajama pants land on the floor in front of both of them. He has to dig his nails into his thighs to resist the urge to turn around. Something nudges his arm. He doesn’t dare move his head, but from the corner of his eye he sees a pale, smooth leg and his breath catches in his chest. 

He hears Mulder curse under his breath and can nearly feel the tension in him vibrating out energy into this rickety old cabin. Dieter feels a gentle hand in the short curls at the back of his neck just a moment later, her nails scraping his scalp just right, and his leg may just start shaking like a dog’s.

“You want to taste me, Mulder?”

“Fuck yes, Scully, please.”

She hums. Her hand in Dieter’s hair stills. 

“Go on, then.”

A lightning flash of movement stirs beside him, but Dieter keeps dutifully still. He’s twitching in anticipation but he doesn’t dare turn to look. 

Scully sighs, all breathy and high-pitched, and Dieter’s never heard a more beautiful sound. Then Mulder whimpers, and it’s muffled by Scully’s thighs, and there’s a wet smacking noise and Dieter thinks this obscene music could be a platinum album. 

Scully gasps, and Mulder groans, and Dieter aches. He can smell her, a sharp and tangy scent of arousal underneath the flowery soap and shampoo. Her hand is still in his hair and it hasn’t moved since Mulder got down to business and he feels forgotten about but in the best way.

“Dieter, honey, you can watch.”

He breathes out with relief and shifts to get a good look of the action. She’s perfect, gorgeous, breathtaking. Her silky pajama top hangs open on her pointy shoulders and her perky breasts rise and fall with her breathing. Her nipples are a brownish pink that stand erect in a way that makes his mouth water like a leaky faucet.

Her toned, porcelain legs spread wide enough to accommodate Mulder’s shoulders. The man is greedy, and Dieter can’t see a thing aside from the triangle of copper curls on her mound. He wants to nuzzle them so bad, he wants to feel them tickle his nose, smell the arousal that catches there. 

“You taste so good.”

Mulder’s words are squished against her center. Dieter whimpers at the thought of her flavor. Her hand soothes through his hair. He wants to touch his cock so badly, but Scully hasn’t told him that he’s allowed. Instead, he balls his hands into fists and bites his lip. 

Scully moans, and Dieter watches her face fall slack with pleasure. 

“Feels good, just like that.”

Dieter can’t help the sounds that eke out of him, desperate and a little pained. He’s so hard that he’s lightheaded, but Scully’s firm grip on his hair grounds him just enough. 

“Don’t be selfish, Mulder.”

He makes a questioning noise between her legs. He looks up at her with wide eyes, mouth open, tongue out and flat against her slit. 

“Give him a taste.”

“Oh fuck, please.”

Dieter can see the reluctance in Mulder’s motions, like he’s struggling to break free from her orbit. He looks so fucking hot, absolutely wrecked. His plush lips are red and shiny and his chin is dripping and his pupils completely usurp his irises. Drunk, drugged off of Scully.

He leans away from Dieter to make room between her legs but she tugs his hair. Then she tugs Dieter’s hair, and their noses are bumping together before either man can put two and two together. 

He can smell her on his breath. It’s so intoxicating that he loses any crumb of decorum he may have had left. He licks a broad swipe from Mulder’s chin to his Cupid’s bow and groans at all the slick he’s able to lap up. 

Mulder’s mouth opens up to him, and he chases the taste of her off of his tongue, his teeth, his gums, anywhere. They’re both panting into each other's mouths, exchanging breath. Dieter feels a big, strong hand on his jaw and neck, and the contrast to Scully’s smaller, gentler touch has him leaking all over the rug underneath him. He feels like he’s drowning, and he just wants to go even deeper, like even death won’t be enough. 

He waits for Scully to say anything about Mulder touching him. When she doesn’t, he takes it as permission to reach up and find purchase in his hair. His fingers tingle when they find Scully’s still there, and his whole body shudders and twitches when she links her fingers with his. 

“You want more?” 

It’s depraved, the way they both pull away from the kiss so fast. Dieter’s nodding and looking toward her, her glistening cunt, her smooth skin and her mischievous gaze. 

“Please, Scully,” Mulder mumbles. 

His head lolls back against Scully’s thigh so he can look up at her. He looks like he’s just run a marathon, the way sweat is beading at his forehead and his chest is heaving. 

“Yes, please, Agent Scully.”

She chuckles. The sound is torture and it’s bliss. She ruffles Dieter’s hair and he hums and leans into it. Mulder whimpers at the lack of attention, so she ruffles his too. 

And then she spreads her thighs even wider, like, gymnast levels of flexibility, and both of their eyes are drawn to the way her lips spread open in invitation, puffy red, her clit all swollen while she drips onto the old comforter under her.

“Think you can share?”

Dieter curses. Mulder whimpers against her thigh.

“Play nice, boys.”

Mulder looks at him with a heated gaze that makes him a little bit scared but really really horny.

“Yes ma’am,” Dieter says, but he’s staring at Mulder. 

Be good, he’s trying to tell him through telepathy, we’ll get rewarded if you’re just good.

Mulder glances up at her, bats his pretty little eyes, and licks his slick lips. 

“Yes ma’am.”

It sounds more teasing than anything, but Dieter doesn’t miss the way she squirms when Mulder says it. He just has that effect, doesn’t he? Such a charming little shit. 

He and Dieter look at each other, assessing, when Mulder finally goes low. It’s a little bit awkward, at first. Dieter’s jaw prods at Mulder’s sharp cheekbone as they find a good position. 

He traces around her clit with a pointed tongue, delicately, so eager to work her up. He can hear Mulder’s tongue fucking in and out of her, a wet cacophony of sounds that make his ears ring. So much so that he nearly doesn’t catch the sounds of Scully’s breath hitching, her soft little mewls as her hips cant up into their faces. 

He’s hyper focused on her pleasure, so lost in it that he doesn’t even recognize how turned on he is until a heavy, warm hand wraps around his cock and he nearly blows his load. His tongue presses broadly against Scully’s clit when he groans. She curses and her hand tightens in his hair and it’s so much. 

He reaches out for anything, really, but Mulder’s cock is there, hard and proud and twitching when he wraps his hand around him. He finds solace in the fact that he’s leaking just as much as Dieter is, sticky and slick all the way down the underside of his shaft. His noises get breathier, and his tongue seeks higher ground just as Dieter’s travels lower. They lap at her folds together, briefly, trapping them between their tongues, trading their tastes as she whines above them. Dieter doesn’t even realize his free hand has grasped Scully’s slender hip until she squirms against it. 

All of a sudden, Dieter feels her go stiff under his grasp. Her hand tightens in his hair just shy of enough to make him lose it. She lets out stuttered little sounds and Mulder hums below him. 

“You like that, Scully?”

“Oh my god, Mulder.”

He groans and shifts and she begs and Dieter’s aroused haze clears enough to make him realize that he’s eating her ass. 

He makes a pained sound himself and sucks Scully’s throbbing clit into his mouth. She shakes, and her stiff body loosens just enough for her to roll her hips into them. 

“Don’t— don’t stop, I’m so close. I’m gonna come.”

Neither of them would dream of stopping, not for anything. Dieter works his tongue in pulses against her clit as he suckles, and he feels Mulder slip a finger in between them just as she cries out, loud, and falls apart against their tongues. 

Dieter drinks up the way her clit jerks and pulses between his lips. He drinks up her gasps and breathy noises. He drinks up the way Mulder’s cock mirrors his own, twitching with pure arousal at the way she’s coming just for them.

They’re both humming satisfied sounds as they work her through it. Their hands on each other’s cocks have stilled completely, just a loose grasp as they coax every last bit of pleasure out of her until she’s lax and shying away from them. 

Dieter pulls away first. He watches with a sticky feeling in his chest at the way Mulder kisses her holes gently, and the skin around them, nuzzling between her thighs so tenderly. Both his hands free, now, Mulder soothes them up the outside of her thighs as they tremble in her aftershocks. 

Mulder’s babbling, Dieter realizes, once the ringing in his ears finally subsides. Just under his breath, a chant, over and over.

“So perfect, Scully, thank you, thank you, Jesus Christ, Scully…”

Dieter settles back on his heels to keep gazing at them. Scully’s hands both pet through his hair as he leaves wet kisses that make her pale thighs glisten in the dim cabin lighting. He’s panting harder than she is, and his prick dribbles and twitches, and he looks up at her through misty eyes. 

“Oh, Mulder,” she sighs.

She bends down at the same time he arches up and their lips meet in a kiss so blindingly passionate that Dieter debates whether or not he should look away. Only for a split second though. Because Scully moans into his mouth and licks herself out of it and Dieter grabs his throbbing dick at the base to chill himself out. 

Mulder’s fingers run through her damp hair so gently, but his jaw works and his mouth takes from her in stark contrast. They look so goddamn good together, it’s insane. He’s torn between holding off to see how this plays out, or coming all over himself in three strokes or less as he watches them together. 

“Come up here, Mulder.”

Her voice is intoxicating, it sounds so fucked out and blissful. She shuffles up the bed some and Mulder chases her, always touching at some point, until she’s lying back and he’s covering her body with his own. 

He dwarfs her. It’s cute, in the show, the way she’s always looking up at him with a craned neck. Now, it’s just filthy, how Mulder’s cock looks so fucking huge lying hard against her small frame. The way he has to scrunch himself up to kiss her so his prick doesn’t go anywhere it’s not supposed to, yet. The way her tiny feet rub up and down Mulder’s calves, only half their size. 

The way his hand eclipses her face when he cradles it and pulls away. How his thumb sweeps so easily from her lips to her cheekbone as he sighs. 

“Scully…”

She hums and closes her eyes and smiles, a sated and relieved grin that makes her look so serenely beautiful. 

“I know, Mulder,” she sighs, “me too.”

Dieter huffs. Chris Carter himself couldn’t have created a more Mulder and Scully-esque love confession. It’s precious. He might cry. 

Unfortunately, the sound makes them both look over. Scully’s all relaxed but Mulder’s hackles are all raised, like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. Dieter slowly moves his hand away from his leaking cock and feels himself blush from his face down to his nipples. 

He’s caught in their crosshairs, stuck, eerily still and silent. Should he offer to leave? He really doesn’t want to leave. Maybe he can just peek through the keyhole of the door and leave them to it. 

“You too, Dieter,” Scully says, “get up here.”

Relief floods through him and makes his limbs all tingly. He’s nervous as he stands, gently making his way to the side of the bed and settling one knee on, then the other. Mulder shifts to the opposite side of Scully, their legs still tangled, as he watches Dieter with emotion he can’t quite put a name to. 

Dieter practically purrs when he slides right into their space. His cock drags a sticky design onto Scully’s smooth thigh and he apologizes, but she just chuckles and gently scratches her nails along his scalp. 

“Are you both going to be good for me?”

The tone of her voice makes them both shiver. Mulder huffs out a laugh but Dieter gasps as she tugs a little at his messy, sweaty curls. 

“Yes ma’am, Agent Scully.”

Dieter’s voice completely betrays him. He’s so turned on. There’s so much blood pumping to his cock that there’s a real and serious threat of him passing out. He hides his face in her shoulder and tries to even out his breathing and not hump her leg like an unruly dog. 

“I’ll be good for you, Scully.”

Mulder sounds a lot more in control. His deep, syrupy voice is just shy of even, only cracking on the second syllable of her name. Dieter feels the way she starts giggling before he hears it, her shoulders jostling with it. 

“You’re going to play by the rules, Mulder?”

He chuckles and it sounds dark, and Dieter opens his eyes to watch him smirk that irresistible smirk. 

“Hell, Scully, I’d write the rules over and over on the chalkboard to keep this going.”

She rolls her eyes at him, but she’s still grinning. His eyes flicker to her lips and there’s no hesitation this time when they kiss again. It’s tame and loose, until Scully wraps her dainty hand around his cock and he groans. Dieter matches his sound, and he just can’t help it, he rolls his hips into Scully’s thigh as he watches Mulder melt into a puddle against her. She bites at his plush bottom lip before she pulls back. 

“Fuck me, then.”

“Jesus,” they both say in unison. 

Scully bites her lip to keep in her giggles and it’s cute and debauched and insane. She’s insane. She’s going to kill them both, and Dieter’s going to return to his reality with 8 less seasons of The X-Files, and a season finale where Scully gets locked up for double homicide.

Mulder shuffles to straddle her. Dieter watches his heavy eyelids flutter and his jaw hang open and knows he likely looks the same. His cock twitches heavily where it hangs below him, and Scully teases the underside of it with her fingertips. He shivers, and so does Dieter, where he rocks his hips gently into Scully’s smooth skin. 

“You’re sure, Scully?” 

Dieter turns away and hides his heated face in the duvet. It’s too tender and raw and he doesn’t deserve to watch them love each other like this. 

“Positive, Mulder.”

He hears them kissing, wet, smacking sounds that give Dieter goosebumps. And then a whimper, a huff, muffled into Scully’s mouth and he drags his face away from its hiding spot. 

Mulder’s inching inside of her slowly, so slowly, with patience Dieter couldn’t even dream of. He cranes his neck to watch her take him, inch by inch. She looks so tight, and he bets she is, if the way Mulder’s eyes are squeezed shut is any indication.

Scully’s head tips back and breaks their kiss. Her eyes roll into the back of her head before she closes them. Her chest is heaving now with shallow breaths, her nipples taut and inviting.

“Oh my god,” she whispers. 

Mulder’s hips stay flush once he’s all the way in and he pants too. It looks like it takes all the strength he has to just flutter his eyes open and look down at her. His brows furrow and he licks his lips and gasps. 

“Scully,” he whines. 

She smirks, and christ, Dieter knows she’s clenching around him like a menace. Poor Mulder. He’s got the restraint of a god, he thinks, Dieter wouldn’t have made it even halfway inside of her. 

She soothes him by brushing the hair from his forehead, all damp with sweat. She does the same to Dieter and he hums as her fingertips massage his scalp. 

Mulder pulls out just as slowly as he entered her. She‘s soaked. He can hear it so well in the stilted silence of the room. When he pushes back in, she sighs and tightens her fist in Dieter’s hair and he needs something. He rocks against her again, and again, and the steady friction makes him gasp. 

Her hand slides down to the back of his neck and guides him to her breast. His cock throbs, deliciously trapped between his stomach and her silky skin. His tongue tests the waters, swirling around the pronounced peak of her nipple. When she sighs and arches into it, he takes it into his mouth and sucks. 

The noises she’s making are perfect. High pitched, breathy, needy. She’s letting herself go to Dieter and Mulder and it’s gorgeous. He presses his cock against her even harder and closes his eyes and whines around the bud in his mouth. 

Mulder’s starting to pick up the pace. Dieter can tell by the way her breast is jiggling just slightly under his mouth. And the sounds, god, the filthy slick sounds coming from her cunt. He’s leaking all over her just thinking about what it must feel like, how snugly Mulder must fit inside of her, how warm it is. 

As if Mulder could read his mind, he gasps out and his hips stutter against her. 

“It’s so good, Scully.”

Scully arches her back to grind down onto him and moans his name and tells him she needs more and Dieter bites down on her tender skin. 

She jolts and tugs his hair and curses and he looks up at her as he soothes it with his tongue. 

She’s the poster girl of pleasure. Her face is twisted with it, every beautiful feature dripping with tension. The length of her neck is so apparent with her head thrown back, and her skin is pink and looks hot to the touch. She begins to bounce when Mulder fucks her faster and harder. Dieter wants to do something, anything to make her feel good. 

He replaces his mouth with his hand, squeezing her flesh and teasing her nipple with his fingertips. He trails kisses up her chest, little love bites and suction until he reaches just below her ear. Her pulse is fluttering rapidly under his tongue, and she keens just as she turns her head and presses their lips together. 

They’re kissing. He’s kissing Scully. Oh god, her lips are so fucking soft against his. Her tongue ripples in his mouth and it tastes so good, minty with a hint of her arousal straight from Mulder’s lips. He whines and rolls his hips against her like he’s in heat, and he’s so close, and he wonders if she’d be mad if he came all over her warm, smooth, freshly showered skin. 

She jolts against him, against them, and bites down on Dieter’s lip with an almost pained noise. She turns away from Dieter and they both look to Mulder, who’s circling her puffy clit with his thumb as he fucks her. 

He’s looking to her for direction with a glazed expression. He looks like he’s hanging by a thread. 

“Here,” she whispers, and takes two of her fingers into her own mouth. 

Christ. The way her lips look wrapped around her two digits is sinful and debauched. Mulder must think the same, because he grabs her wrist and makes her stop. 

Dieter holds his breath as he waits for his next move. Is he going to pin her arms to the bed? Is he going to stretch them over her head and make her squirm on his cock, make her beg? 

It’s sweeter than that. Of course it is, with these two. Mulder brings her hand to his lips and kisses her palm, and then her knuckles. She sighs his name, and watches Mulder smile.

That soft, dopey smile gets an edge to it. 

“Let me, please,” he whispers. 

Dieter only gets the chance to be confused for half a second when he slips those two fingers into his own mouth. 

Scully gasps and moans and wiggles against him. Fuck, it’s beautiful. Mulder’s full lips take her all the way to the last knuckle and he hollows his cheeks as he sucks them. Scully’s hips squirm and rock and the way she moves against him is a sight. Mulder groans when Scully begins to thrust her fingers in and out, just a little, not enough to choke him but enough to make him close his eyes and sigh and start slowly fucking her again. 

They leave his mouth all wet and shiny. Mulder’s tongue tries to follow them and it makes Scully huff out a weak laugh. 

“You’re too good at that, Mulder.”

He hums, tries to hide his sheepish smile by ducking his head. But Scully grips his chin with her wet fingers to prevent it. His eyes struggle to focus on her, Dieter notices. He can’t blame him, it’s like staring into the sun. 

“Why don’t you show off to your little time traveler, huh?”

He opens his mouth, but no words come out. His eyes dart nervously from Scully to Dieter. 

“I— what?”

“Don’t be dense. Make him come. Make me come. You can multitask, can’t you?”

Dieter lies as still as the dead, afraid that if he moves maybe Mulder will snap out of this horny daze and tell him to get lost. He wouldn’t blame him one bit, either, but god he really wants to see this man’s lips wrapped around his cock. 

Scully chuckles at Mulder’s frozen stature. Or maybe she’s chuckling at the way Dieter’s heartbeat is pulsing through his dick against her thigh, dribbling all over it. 

“I bet you’re so good at it,” she continues to tease him, “with these pretty lips?” 

Mulder huffs and squirms when she rubs the pads of her wet fingers against his mouth. His tongue peeks out to taste them, coax them back inside him, but she doesn’t let him. 

“For me, Mulder?”

And Dieter can’t help but grin, because he’s never seen such a visceral loss of resolve so clearly before. Mulder closes his eyes and whines and nods his head. 

Scully makes a satisfied little noise, and her free hand sneaks down to squeeze Dieter’s slick cock, and he has to bite his own lip really hard to keep from losing it before the fun even begins. 

Then there’s some awkward repositioning and shuffling, mostly on his end. He kneels just above Scully’s head, and when he looks down she’s grinning like the Cheshire Cat from under his cock. He has to reach down to collect some of the pre-cum oozing out of him to keep it from dripping onto her gorgeous face, but she grabs his wrist and licks it from his fingers anyway. 

And then there’s Mulder, who’s slowly thrusting in and out of his partner like it’s second-nature, like auto-pilot, as he surveys the scene in front of him. 

“Mulder,” Scully mumbles. 

The deep, breathy, commanding tone of her voice makes Dieter shiver. 

“Yeah, Scully?”

“Make us come. Then you can.”

He groans, and his hips stutter then slam into her. Dieter’s torn between looking at the blissed-out look on Mulder’s face or the mischievous look in Scully’s eyes. 

“Are you— are you sure?” Dieter asks. 

Like an idiot, looking a gift horse in the mouth. But how can he not? They’re so perfect, so made for each other, and he’s just some weird fucking guy. 

But then Mulder’s expression turns into something darker, determined, and he nods with glassy eyes. 

“C’mon, McFly.”

And that’s all the encouragement Dieter needs, really. He widens his knees to line his cock up with those shiny, plush lips. Mulder gives Scully one last glance before he’s craning his neck forward and closing his eyes. 

Scully and Dieter gasp at precisely the same time, just as Mulder’s tongue swipes at his frenulum. Dieter’s eyes lose focus as he watches Mulder open his mouth wider, then looks past to see Scully’s icy blue gaze fixated on everything going on above her. It’s like an erotic kaleidoscope, the way they’re all blending together in pleasure. 

He suckles on Dieter’s head, a little too hard, but he thinks it might be on purpose. He hisses and grabs Mulder’s hair in one clammy, shaking hand. His tongue works the underside of his cock as he fits more into his mouth, and Scully was right, he is way too good at this. 

Scully curses under them, and only then does Dieter notice she’s touching herself as Mulder keeps pumping into her with a shaky, stilted rhythm. 

“So good, Mulder.”

His responding moan turns into a whimper as Dieter’s prick slides across the back of his tongue and hits his throat. 

“Fuck, yeah, so good,” Dieter agrees. 

It’s more than good. It’s incredible, unbelievable. He watches Mulder’s shiny, puffy lips wrapped around him, so in awe of how gorgeous he is. His pretty eyes are closed, half concentration and half bliss as he slides in and out of Scully’s dripping cunt. 

It takes him a while to find a rhythm that works, but when he finds his groove he fucking finds it. Of course he’d be good at this, too. He fucks in and out of Scully once, twice, and then sinks his mouth down as far as he can on Dieter’s cock (all the fucking way— Jesus christ) and holds there while he pumps in and out of her some more. 

And Dieter’s so, so torn. He wants to be good for Scully, wants to challenge Mulder for her and keep up the show. He wants to hang on so she can crumble as she watches her partner taking and receiving so perfectly at the same time.

But he wants to be good for Mulder too. He wants to come in his mouth and give him the satisfaction of satisfying. He wants to let Mulder prove to Scully how good he is, let him make them both come and writhe under his skill and rapt attention. 

And it’s like Scully can sense it. With her free hand, she reaches up and cups his balls. It makes his fucking toes curl, makes him cry out her name and slam his eyes shut to stave it off. He’s being tagged teamed by the objects of some of his earliest sexual fantasies and it takes him biting his lip so hard he draws blood to keep it together. 

He realizes the noises he’s making are borderline embarrassing. He’s mewling and gasping and whimpering as she squeezes and strokes, as her fingers meet Mulder’s lips every time he takes him deep. He’s shaking with the effort it takes to not fuck Mulder’s mouth. And he’s sweating, and he hopes to god it doesn’t start to trickle down and land on Scully’s blissed-out face.

And then it doesn’t much matter, because those dainty fingers and well-kept nails travel back, across his taint, and press. 

“I can’t— I can’t, oh my god.”

Mulder hums around his cock in an echo of the noise Scully makes under him. He’s teetering on the edge, tensed up, out of his mind as Scully massages that spot and Mulder swirls his tongue around the head of his cock. 

And in sync, like they always are, in a way that takes him completely off guard but should be absolutely predictable, they unravel him. 

Mulder takes him down his throat and swallows, and the pad of one of Scully’s fingers taps his entrance, and he’s done. 

He might scream, if he’s being honest. There was never any hope for a warning, the way they ganged up to play him like a fucking fiddle. Mulder groans as the first explosive spurt of Dieter’s cum shoots down his throat. He pulls back as Dieter continues to spill with each spasm of his muscles, as he tries but fails to suck Scully’s finger up inside him. He writhes and curses and clenches Mulder’s hair a little too tight as he works through his orgasm. 

Mulder dutifully collects every last drop, extremely intent on keeping it from spilling down across Scully’s face. He is such a good boy for her. Mulder whimpers when she tells him so in her breathy, sexy way she does. His hips stutter inside of her just as Dieter slips from his swollen lips. 

He doesn’t get reprieve yet, though. Mulder’s long, lean body arches up, and his arm reaches to grab a fist full of Dieter’s hair and tug and oh, god, he might just come again.

Their lips crash together, and before Dieter can think of how metallic the taste is, Mulder’s pushing his own load into his mouth forcefully. Dieter takes it all, sucks it down and swallows as he pants against Mulder’s mouth. 

Then he thanks him, and he thanks Scully, over and over with baited breath until he collapses to the side of them, completely spent and overstimulated. 

“You did so good,” he hears Scully say. 

Only she’s not talking to him. 

She’s got both her hands on Mulder’s face. Her lips just brushing against his own as she whispers. He watches her hike her legs up to wrap around Mulder’s waist, watches Mulder sag into her so he’s plastered against her front. 

“Scully,” Mulder whines. 

“Harder, Mulder. Make me come.”

He kisses her one last time before he buries his face in her neck and obeys, pulling nearly all the way out of her before driving back in. She’s really vocal now, now that she has Mulder’s undivided attention, now that he can focus on fucking her steadily and deep and fast.

Her head is thrown back and she looks so fucking beautiful. Mulder should be looking at her, shouldn’t miss a moment of the way she looks as he’s making her fall apart. But Dieter can’t blame him, or the concentrated, almost pained look he has on his face that’s just peeking out under her chin. 

It’s crazy how she seems to be fucking him from under all his weight, but she’s doing exactly that. Her toned legs pull him into her, her hips arching to meet his, so frantic and hot. One of her hands is leaving red marks down his back and the other one is petting through his hair, scraping his scalp and pulling so many gorgeous noises from him. 

Dieter couldn’t look away if he tried. His spent cock is twitching, trying it’s damndest to steal what little blood is left in his brain. He wants to help them along, maybe take Scully’s nipple into his mouth, but they’re both crushed under Mulder’s body in a way Dieter’s extremely jealous of. He could touch Mulder, could grab his pert little asscheek and squeeze. But he resigns to the sidelines instead, lets them share this intimate moment with only the intrusion of his eyes and heavy breathing. 

It’s over pretty quickly, anyway. Mulder starts babbling again, a great fucking look on him, there where he’s hidden in the pale crook of her neck. 

“Please, Scully. Come for me— I wanna make you come. I wanna be good, let me make you feel good.”

And she’s grinding her hips up as her back arches off the bed, no doubt catching her swollen clit on that enticing patch of wiry curls above his prick. She’s panting and gasping and then she’s shouting.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, Mulder, oh my god! So good, good boy— I’m gonna come—”

And she does. Beautifully. She tenses up and then she shakes, convulsing under him, around him. She moans and mumbles through it, with her eyes shut tight and her cute little nose all scrunched and her mouth hanging open. 

It’s so beautiful that she outshines Mulder. Dieter barely even catches his groans, the curses under his breath as his hips stutter and grind into her. They both ride it out for a while, it’s like it’s never going to end. They writhe against each other and Mulder’s panting into her mouth as she tries her best to kiss his open lips. Their rhythm takes forever to slow, and even longer to come to a stop. 

It’s better than anything Dieter ever could have imagined. He’s already half hard again, just watching them be together, and that fact only makes him want to leave, disappear, let them play this out without some stranger in their bed. 

But christ he wants to stay and watch just as bad. 

Their eyes flutter open at the same time, and the smiles on their faces are as nauseating as they are precious. Scully looks like the cat that got the cream, and Mulder has the audacity to look sheepish. 

“I uh—” Mulder’s voice cracks, and he clears his throat, “I didn’t pull out.”

Scully giggles. 

“I noticed.”

He huffs, and she smooths his sweaty hair from his forehead.

“I’m on the pill.”

Mulder sighs. 

“That’s— that’s good.”

Idiots, Dieter thinks. The situational irony is off the charts. His huff alerts them both, snaps them out of their little bubble to look over at him. 

He opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes to mind. Scully gives him an amused little smirk and reaches over to pet his hair. 

“You were so good,” she muses. 

He shivers at her words and her fucked-out gaze. 

Mulder shifts on top of her, and they both gasp a little noise when he slips out of her, but they’re both focused on him. 

Mulder looks him up and down and for a moment he isn’t sure if he’s about to kick him out of bed or kiss him within an inch of his life. 

He does neither, it turns out. Instead he holds the side of Dieter’s face in his big, sweaty palm and it’s so soothing that he closes his eyes and leans into it. His thumb strokes Dieter’s cheek while Scully plays with his hair and he could die happy here. 

“Yeah man, thank you. That was good— you were good.”

Dieter’s eyes open wide at that. They’re both looking at him with fondness— appreciation. His chest swells with a heavy feeling just as his eyes begin to sting. 

“Thank you,” he whispers. 

He just barely catches the confused looks on their faces before he hides his own, rolling over into his stomach to let his pitiful tears fall into the blanket below him. Scully ruffles his hair with a sympathetic coo and Mulder pats him on the back of his heated neck before he hears rustling and feels the bed shift. 

“Oh my god.”

Scully’s voice sounds horrified. For a quick moment, his tiny little pea brain thinks of Queequeg— is he alright, did he get out while they were occupied?

“What the hell?”

Mulder’s voice sounds much more amused. 

Confused, Dieter wipes his wet eyes in what he hopes is an inconspicuous move before he looks over his shoulder at them.

Scully and Mulder are both standing at the foot of the bed, looking equal parts mortified and puzzled. And they’re staring at Dieter’s bare ass. 

His bare ass that he now remembers is tattooed. Tattooed with Mulder and Scully’s face on each cheek, respectively. 

“Oh, ha— yeah. Maybe that could have proved it faster?”

His face feels hot. He’s had these asscheek tattoos for so long he sometimes forgets about them. He was young and drunk and high when he got them, but they still hold up. Full color portraits of his favorite FBI agents. 

“What do the words say?” Scully asks. 

Mulder takes one for the team and leans in closer to Dieter’s ass, and he wonders if his blush goes all the way to his buttcheeks. 

“Mine says the truth is out there, and yours says I want to believe.”

Dieter lets out a nervous chuckle and shifts, a little scrutinized, a little embarrassed, a little bit turned on at the way Mulder’s gaze settles over his body.

“When did you get these?”

“1998, right after the movie came out.”

“There’s a movie?”

“Two, actually.”

Scully shakes her head and looks from Mulder to Dieter’s butt, back and forth a few times. 

“I’ll give you this one, Mulder. Only because there’s no lake monster for you to boast about.”

Mulder preens, a satisfied smirk settling on his handsome face. 

“Finally,” he and Dieter say at the exact same time. 

She rolls her eyes. 

“Brag about it in the morning. I’m tired— and my bed’s clean,” she throws her voice over her shoulder as she leaves the room. 

Dieter stays put. His ankles roll around in an attempt to hide his hesitation. He stares at the empty doorway and avoids Mulder’s lanky form. 

“You coming, Doc Brown?”

He’d be stupid not to follow like an eager pup. 

They all nestle into Scully’s bed. She’s in the middle, wrapped up in blankets, and the guys take either side of her. Dieter rests his head on her naked breast as she kisses Mulder goodnight, as Mulder’s fingers intertwine with his own over her smooth stomach. Their pillow talk lulls him to sleep and he goes to bed happy for the first time in years.

He wakes up alone, on his couch, in his own clothes, with his face smashed against his open laptop. 

A dream. It must have all been a crazy, weed and hormone induced dream. Best dream he’s ever had. He sighs, scratches his head and takes in his surroundings. 

Everything’s normal, exactly how he left it. Except, when he moves to his bedroom to mourn the loss of the day he never had, he sees a red and white trucker’s hat on his nightstand. 

Show us your bobbers

[random-blurbs]

I Can’t Fall In Love

Summary : Screwed over time and time again you swore your heart away from the idea of love. Not realizing how truly weak it is for the genius right in front of you.

"Pen I can't do this anymore! I'm done..." Practically wailing it out you gripped the fluffy little figurine begging for some type of release. "I love you my love but please spare my friend that poor torture." Snatching it from your hands you let you a torturous sigh. Done with simply everything.

"This isn't fair I did so much for him." Penelope motioned to her computer which you waved off. Knowing she's always willing to hack his stuff and leave petty messages behind. You're trying to be above that. Trying really hard at that.

"What did he do this time. I swear all the men you date always are so shady." Taking a deep breath in you know what Pen might do if she finds out. But to be fair she'll always find out some way or another. "He cheated on me...with his sister who I at least thought was his sister. But y'know wasn't." The yell that Penelope let out was loud as she shared your anger now. "He did what!" Nodding painfully as you recount finding them in your house, in the room you pay for, and in the bed, you paid for. It hurts. A lot. "Are you ok though my sweets? I know you're probably angry, but you don't even seem to acknowledge the fact that you can be sad." Was it the profiler in her that her team without realizing instilled into her. Or were you that obvious. It can be both. "I don't know Pen... it's just - I'm tired of being sad men after men." The ache in your heart is there, but that's a can of worms you don't want to open at your workplace. "But I'm going to make this promise to myself to not even dare to ever fall in love!" You said confidently as Penelope couldn't believe a single word you said. She loves you and you know that. But she can also see the avoidant nature you tend to have. Reminding her of a special little someone.

"What if I set you up with someone I know! He's a total catch in the terms of nerdy but still a catch!" Shaking your head you made a loud incorrect buzzer noise. "Nope! Not falling in love! Thank you though for looking out for me. Maybe we can talk about it -" Interrupting your sentence you both heard someone knocking on the door and a head of brown curls peeked his head in. "Um Garcia? Hotch is looking for you." He acknowledged your presence with an awkward smile as he looked at Penelope expectantly. "This is the person I was telling you about. This is our resident boy genius, Spencer Reid! He loves to read books, and I know you do to - you used to play chess in elementary he still plays! And he has an IQ of -!" Putting your hand up to stop Penelope from embarrassing the two of you guys. You waved at Spencer with an awkward smile of your own. Is it obvious Penelope was setting you guys up. Hopefully not.

Considering he's fucking cute. "Y/N. I'm Penelope's friend down at the reception desk." Totally needed to add that part so he can totally not see me there and say hi himself.

"Ah. I'm also Penelope's friend obviously we work in the same team I mean I feel like that's kind of obvious I'm sorry you probably know that. She probably told you if anything not that the-."

"Ok! Um someone is totally not rambling, let's catch up next time ok! You have to tell me what that pathetic little -" Rambling about what she might do to your ex you just let out a short chuckle at her words. Meeting his eyes you gave him a small smile back. "Ok bye you guys! It was nice meeting you Reid." Waving bye at him, he had barely put up his hand when you already walked out.

You can accept a man is cute. He's definitely not your type but he totally can be...

Shaking your head you rushed to your desk hoping your coworker isn't too mad that you left him for a while. Pushing all thoughts of the awkward smiling guy in a locked box.

-

It was weird it's been 3 months since meeting the resident genius of the FBI. And you can't look at him in his stupid eyes. His stupid cute face. When you do run into him it’s very stiff conversation and you hate how it makes your day. And vice versa. You give him energy he thought he couldn’t get. Showing your painfully slow progress sometimes you’re greeted with a cup of coffee. A order he learned through trial and error. But when he saw the smile that was etched into your face as you got your favorite order. He will grow those coffee beans by his own hand if it means seeing you continuously smile like that. He didn’t expect anything in return and you smile every time you think about it. For once nobody expected anything from you.

But when you come you’re reminded of those memories. Memories you wish to burn.

So you've been stuck. To the point where Penelope is checking in on you every day. Encouraging you to go out. Is it worth it?

Staring at the popcorn ceiling it felt weird being all dressed up but feeling nothing. No happiness, no sadness, no more anger. You're just tired. The excessive of beeping on your phone never stops. Maybe that's why your phone is practically dead all the time. Opening it it's the same messages you always see.

Please I'm so sorry I didn't mean it It was one time Just answer your fucking phone y/n stop being stupid just answer your fuc-

Shaking your head you got up to get into your uber that finally arrived. Tired. Blocking this random number again, he never stops. And you don't think he ever will. You haven't told Penelope the excessive messages you know she'll probably cross lines that you really don't want her to do. Trying to gather what social battery you have left to meet her friends. Or well her team.

Entering the surprisingly loud bar, you checked your phone trying to follow her directions. "Y/N!" A muffled voice from afar and you see the excitable blonde. "Come here!" You take in the group beside her. 2 older men who seem to be talking to each other not favoring the club setting that this bar took up. 2 other girls were next to her which you only remember the name of Emily. Not knowing which one is which. And finally, the man you've been avoiding. He's talking to another man who seems to be teasing him. But his brown eyes were meeting yours. Nervous flickering as he listened to his friend but looking at you. And only you. "Hey Pen!" Giving her a hug she does the introductions. It's hard to listen.

Just following Pen's footsteps you listen in to the story they exchange and generally talking about their life. Derek had left to go dance with Penelope, JJ and Emily had also gone to dance with one another. Who you learned was Rossi ended up leaving a little earlier. Seems like Hotch did the same considering you haven't seen him in a while. It's easy to do the math. Taking a sneaky peek next to you, there he was. His leg was bouncing nervously fueling your nerves just the same. The shots at your table are going to waste as you finally grabbed another one. "Y-You might want to slow down." His nervous voice made you pause. Looking over at him confused he cleared his throat. "You already took 3 shots within the hour and a half of being here. Not that I'm telling you what to do exactly. But it's just women tend to get drunk faster and obviously I would have to take into account your height and weight - I-I just want you to be careful." He finished with a stiff nod. Was it three shots already? You feel your phone buzzing into your pocket tiring you again, can't even enjoy a cute guy telling you to be careful. Tilting your head back you finished the shot.

"I'm sorry I'll cut myself off now." Not wanting him to think you're a drunk you took a sip out of your water right after. "It's not that it's just I want you to be careful, that's all." Nodding you guys fell into an awkward silence if you can even call it silence. It's a crime that this bar is basically a club now. "Have you played chess?" Surprising he's still talking to you, kind of scared that he finds you bad company. You nod your head, "Yeah back in elementary in some stupid little team." You chuckled a little at the memory remembering playing against your classmates but totally cheating so we both can get the vouchers. "Not anymore though?" Confirming his question with just a nod it seemed like he was stuck in his thoughts. "Do you play in like tournaments and stuff?" He immediately shook his head. "I only play for fun it's better that way."

"Would you show me how to play again if I ask?" You can see you caught him off guard with the question. Liquid courage as you want to call it. "Not a date obviously but to get to know each other better." He deflated at that. But you weren't able to see that as the phone distracted you when you pulled it out. Maybe it's better this way, he shouldn't test his luck. Maybe just being around you is enough. Considering he noticed the numerous of times you would go the opposite direction if you saw him. Maybe this is enough?

He didn't mean to peek it seems like your limbs didn't want to work with you that well anymore. Letting him take an accidental peek at your phone. Seeing the mass text messages sent to you reading what he can. He was the worst person to see it considering he read it all in practically seconds. But he knows now he doesn't want you to be surrounded with that. He knows you should have more. "We can set up whatever time that's works best for you."

-

Shit shit shit shit shit! Can you really call it a date? I mean you have to at this point. Here you are clothes sprawled all over your room as you tried so many different things. Some were too date-like, some too casual like. Going to watch a Greek play that Reid promised to translate it has to be a date?

Hearing a knock at your door it was pathetic really how you sprinted to it. Opening the door with a grin it quickly diminished seeing who was there. "Why are you so dressed up?" Not wanting to answer him you immediately tried to shut the door before he shoved his foot at the doorstep. Making his way in your eyes carefully watched him. Scared of anything setting him. "Mark what are you doing here?" "I keep on texting you and you refuse to answer." Scoffing you shake your head staring at him with disgust. "I can't believe you. Just get the fuck out. I've already been dealing with your messages for 6 months now! I've shown you kindness by not reporting you!" It was easy to see that he practically ignored your words as you fiddled with the doorknob begging him to leave. Spencer was going to be here at any point. And that weird feeling of embarrassment or even shame was filling you. Ashamed that you still don't have your life together considering your ex is practically being a stalker and you still haven't reported him.

"Y/N I miss you. Please just one more shot swear you won't regret it! C'mon will you really find someone like me?" In awe at his ego, you let out a laugh of disbelief. How the hell did you end up with someone like him. Glad you got out of the shitshow of a relationship you were in.

"Are you fucking laughing at me?" His booming voice is something you don't miss. And it always terrified you. "Obviously because genuinely who the fuck do you think you are."

"You stupid bitch I sw-" Taking huge strides to you, the fear made you want to run. But he was immediately at your side as you tried stumbling away. Feeling his hand wrap around your arm as you winced feeling him tighten it.

"Y/N?" A softer voice was heard just right outside the door. It was still open and you immediately knew it was Spencer. Your savior. Glancing up at your ex you see the anger swirling in his eyes, giving you a accusatory glare.

"Who the fuck are you?" Within a moment Spencer rushed into the apartment almost hitting you and your ex in the process. He was surprised to hear a male voice come from your apartment especially one sounding so hostile. The position you guys were in was everything but normal. You didn't even realize but Spencer can see it. The tears in your eye were welling up and the desperation laced with it, Spencer just can't unsee. "You need to get out." With a firm voice Spencer stayed unmoving as he stared at your ex. Who seemed to be beyond pissed. "Excuse me?" With a swift motion Spencer took out his FBI badge showing it to your ex. "I don't want to repeat myself. I can have you arrested just as quickly so do yourself a favor and leave. " He never really likes using his badge in scenarios out of field. But he knows your ex wouldn't listen otherwise.

Dropping your hand aggressively, Spencer was quickly at your side cradling your arm. The exact opposite of what your ex had done. Giving you one last look he slammed the door shut echoing throughout the apartment.

"Are you ok?" He didn't waste a second as he took extra care of your arm trying to see the extent of it. And it's that damn question, looking down as you tried hiding behind your hair. A very weak attempt. The tear fell unapologetically. All those feelings came out as you ripped your arm away from Spencer. Letting yourself cry into your hands. He didn't know what to do. He was scared that he was going to say the wrong thing. He knows of your situation but he didn't know the extent of it. And he wishes he can take it all away for you. "Do you want a hug?" With tears still streaming down your face, you glanced up at him in confusion. "Reid, you don't even like handshakes... not that I care but I feel like a hug is very out of left field." Agreeing with you immediately he tried not pushing the boundary. "Yeah, obviously germs can be shared especially since you're crying. But you're sad and I want to make you feel better. Even if it means a hug." Tears continue to fall at his sweet words knowing that this is probably something he psyched himself into doing. "If you want, I'll only hug you for a minute?" He motioned you to get closer and it was the most awkward hug you've ever had. But it was the only hug that has made you feel seen, comforted. It's not his favorite thing in his world, but as he caressed your hair letting you cry into his vest that took him too much time to pick out worried, he won't impress you. He didn't mind that the tears were being etched into it as you found comfort in his arms. Thats all he wanted. To be your rock. He might not know everything about you but he's willing to wait around to find out. You make it worth it. Your eyes, your smile, your sarcasm, everything. The fact that you were willing to watch a play you would have no idea what is being said, but willing to indulge into his wants. Thats enough for him.

As the minute went by it became clear that you took more comfort in his arms than he suspected. And he didn't mind as he heard your cries start to quiet down and just the small jumps of your shoulder signifying your calming down. "I'm sorry Spencer... I know you were really excited for the play. But I don't think we can go out anymore...obviously." Pointing at yourself and your wrecked appearance. "It doesn't matter."

"You say they come only every 5 years to perform just go and enjoy it."

"I'm ok we can catch it in the next 5 years we have all the time in the world." He said happily as he looked around your apartment. Entranced by the decorations as everything screamed you. "Is there a movie you want to watch? I can go get us some snacks or maybe order some takeout. You shouldn't waste your outfit." He didn't notice but you were trying your hardest not to cry at his kindness. You can't love him you just can't. You already seen all the men in the world. All they do is hurt you. And your fear of Spencer being one of them is killing you. You can't love him.

"Do you want fast-food or sushi?" It won't hurt to at least have a friend. - "Spence stop!" Giggling you were at the other end of the couch trying not to get caught in his arms. He had his arms out at the other side going left or right trying to catch you. "Say you're sorry then!" Uncontrollably laughing you shake your head between breaths.

"I can't! I won't mean it." Shrieking as he went over the couch to grab you, you run into your kitchen trying to expand the distance between the two of you. It was futile.

Yelling with laughs in between he wrapped his arms around you before swinging you around. "Spence! Please! I'm sorry don't drop me!" You know if he somehow did let you slip, he would immediately use his body as a cushion to soften the blow. That was the kind of man he was. Softly letting you down your laughs mixed with one anothers in a melody only you two can understand and enjoy.

You both were falling for each other. Hard.

It’s the type of feeling where you guys tittered the edge of something more. But you always pulled yourself back. It was the only way where you can breathe in peace. Knowing Spencer won’t have that edge over you, you won’t be vulnerable to him. “Are you going to cook for us again?”

“Obviously - do you not like my cooking or something?” Before he can respond your phone started to buzz. Excessively. “Can you get that for me? It might be Pen telling me about how Kevin is annoying her.” Getting started on dinner you settled with a pasta dish not exactly being a chef.

It was silent for too long as you looked up from the pot of water as his eyebrows were furrowed. Almost as if he was angry. “Spence you good?”

“It’s Mark. I’m going to let Hotch know he broke his restraining order he might have someone that can actually make sure he gets punished.” Mood somewhat dampening you thanked him quietly as you continued dinner. “Don’t overthink it please, You don’t need to worry.” You feel him behind you making you turn around to face him. He brought his hands up caressing your cheek with a content smile. “I swear to you I will make him stop. No matter what I do.”

I like you.

So much.

Those thoughts swirl his head as he stared at your face as your eyes were closed happily.

He wants to give you everything and more. The thought of letting you is too much for him.

-

“And they were roommates…” Penelope said ominously as you pushed her playfully. She giggled as she poked at your sides excitedly. She looked around the room with a bright smile on her face as she took everything in. “I love how you decorated the place obviously this was all you?” Nodding you’re happy that you got creative freedom in decorating - it feels more like home. Home 2.0.

“I brought you guys snacks.” Turning around you see Spencer with a big grin and an equally big bag of treats. “Spencer Reid I swear you are the love of my life.” Grabbing the hefty bag you passed over her snacks. Not realizing the look that Penelope threw at Spencer. Him quickly shushing her as you passed Spencer his snacks. “I need to go already my sweets. Date night I need to be ready!” Saying our byes you pulled Spencer over to the couch getting comfortable.

“You like it?��� Motioning to the walls/the general room. “Of course I do. You just have the special touch like this one artist..” He proceeded to compare you to some artist you’ve never heard of but you just loved to hear him talk. “Do you want to lay down?”

It’s routine, asking is just a curtesy. Your head hit his lap comfortably as he positioned the pillows how you liked it.

“Are we going to continue that conversation we were having before she came?” You said looking at him from his lap. He loves how you look from there. Just happy, innocent. He hates to know that your ex took that from you for so long.

Getting more comfortable he cleared his throat knowing he can’t forget the conversation you were just having. “I would never hurt you Y/N.” Already living with each other for a year you guys are finally having that talk. Caressing your cheek like how he always will he admired the face he will be waking up next to. “I know simply saying it won’t take away your fears, but I want to show you. And I will. Because I adore you Y/N. You help me look forward to tomorrow. You give me a drive for us to finish our cases faster so I can get home, to you. And only you.” Smiling softly at him you played with his fingers. Dancing with one another’s hands you admired him. You never thought you could like someone so much. It drives you insane that he’s doing this to you. But you can’t help but be glad that it’s him and no one else.

“Do you swear Spence?”

“Swear on everything.” Kissing your hand softly he helped you sit up as you leaned. He helped you more times you can count. He waited. And waited. Without expecting anything.

You didn’t want to fall in love. Who would? But as you stare at the love-sick fool in front of you. With the dorkiest smile adorning his lips you can’t help but lean in letting your lips press against his. An act of love finalizing what you guys are. Lovers. And you wouldn’t want anything more.

[bisnes-socks]

the video you guys... maybe it's bc it's the middle of the night but i'm losing it

i've said this before and i'll say it again, i think käärijä is pretty much the most interesting thing that has happened in finnish music in a long long time. but that is of course a matter of opinion

what is not a matter of opinion is that in the last almost two years now, he has been the most famous person this country has ever seen. like idk how clear it is to international fans, but it's not normal in finland for a musical artist to have their own personal bodyguard go with them everywhere. he's talked about it yes, but like.. there is like a bend in reality around him in this country that you can only really comprehend when you stop to look at it.

and i've wondered two things. i've wondered if he knows how much he has done for people in this country. i've talked to people in their fucken 50s who have found the confidence to speak english in public because of him. i've seen the absolutely all encompassing effect he has had on the city of vantaa. ccc in esc truly united this country right after an election that tore us apart.

like.. we laugh about how finnish people care so much about what other people think about us. and all these stereotypes us finnish people believe as being the way we are seen. quiet, stoic, a bit unemotional, hard to read, depressed, weird with a quirky language no-one understands. imagine the impact of him showing the world a completely different side to us, that we all still recognise as OUR culture and something inherently finnish. him becoming so loved all around the world and in this country, not despite but because of things we have been culturally taught to be ashamed of. things he refused to be ashamed of, and he showed us. he has done SO MUCH for all of us, and i wonder if he knows.

and i've wondered how he has managed to keep it together through everything. like i said, there is no-one, absolutely no-one, who has had that level of attention in this country. and i wonder how has he stayed sane.

and the song and the video kinda answer these questions and it's as beautiful as it is heartbreaking. absolutely fucking killed me. so many things in that song i can relate to on a very personal level as well, but his story lives on a scale i could never even dream of. and so now i know. i know he knows but how he still can't feel it. and i know if he has stayed sane and he hasn't and i know how he's felt and. it. is. heartbreaking.

but at the same time i have to say how much i admire his decision to put it all in this song and make this song the lead single of the album. he continues to show us and i have so much not only love but fucking respect for him for that. fuck.

[talekinesis]

Reasons I will not Accept Umbrella Academy Season 4 as Canon (major spoilers)

I wanna preface this with: This is just my personal opinion, I am not telling anyone how they should or shouldn't feel. If you liked season 4, that is wonderful for you, I wish I could say the same

These two. I do not like their little romantic side plot at all for a multitude of reasons

I know Five's consciousness is like 68, I know he's technically an old man, but his body is around 19 years old, and Lila knew him while his body was still 13 so it just feels weird

I cannot imagine being in my 30s, married with children and being in love with someone who looks like they're 19, and yes, I know 7 years alone will do numbers on someone's mind, but still

throughout their whole little love montage, I was just begging, "Please let this just be a wholesome friend thing, please let this just be a cute, close sibling like dynamic- FUCK ME, THEYRE KISSING!?"

Also Five wasn't even good to her, he lied about the book at first and just made the decision for her that she'd stay with him in that timeline forever. And yes I know he eventually told her, but even after that he kept trying to convince her to just abandon her husband, children, and family because "You're happy here." Diego and Lila have their own issues, sure, but he's still the much better option and wouldn't have tried to trap her like that.

Season 4 Five just feels.. off, he feels wrong. Bring back his little shorts and old man vests when he was in 'retirement.' Bring back the Five that went on a road trip with Klaus because he wanted to see things like the world's biggest ball of yarn or whatever it was, I don't like this Five who tries to trap a married mother in an alternate dimension with him

THE CLEANSE

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME

YOU'RE GONNA SIT THERE AND TELL ME NONE OF THEM MAKE IT??

"Oh Talon, there can't always be happy endings, some endings are sad too," and I GET THAT!! But that doesn't mean I can't still pout about it >:(

I will sit here with a pouty lip and arms crossed for all eternity /ref

It just felt like a kick to the gut for the show to be like, "Oh and they ceased to exist, they were never born, none of this technically ever happened, and no one remembered or missed them. They saved the world, the timeline, and no one will ever remember them for it because it technically didn't actually happen to begin with," fuck you

These characters we got so attached to, these plots that we got so invested in, you can't just tell me, "Also they technically never happened because they were never born," what the hell??

So you know what?? No. I don't accept s4 as real. Just like the cleanse, it never happened. As far as I'm concerned, the story ended at s3, everyone is alive and well, they don't have their powers, and they all went their separate ways.

Viktor is still running a bar in Canada with his friends

Allison is still a happy mother to Claire

Luther is living in the mansion married to Sloane

Diego is still learning to be a parent with Lila

Five is in much needed therapy and in college reclaiming a young adulthood life he never had

Klaus is still sober and going strong, probably working at a café, he's someone's favorite barista and they have conversations

Ben is living in South Korea (where google said he was at the end of s3) and he still keeps in contact with Klaus and Viktor

[ssentimentals]

f1 pairings as famous love tropes: alex albon x logan sargeant

there was only one bed!AU

'and honey, don't you know that you and i were meant to be? sooner or later, in any universe, it's you and me'

'how are you dealing with this?'

oh, what a great question. alex glances around, checking if someone is out there. 'peachy, georgie. just peachy.'

'yeah? not freaking out?' george asks in a tone that implies he knows the answer already.

'of course not,' alex huffs. 'why would i be freaking out? yes, hotel is overbooked and apparently i don't have a room anymore because of some system lag, but my good friend logan kindly offered me to stay with him. what is there to freak out about?'

and if alex doesn't add a tiny detail about his raging crush on said good friend then it's only because george knows. and because george is a very caring individual, he asks the question alex fears the most: 'is there only one bed?'

usually alex is the one who makes fun of george and his love for dramatics, but he's not doing any better now. alex knows that he's making a big deal out of nothing - it's okay for mates to share one bed when circumstances call for it. and even when they don't - it's also fine. everything is fine, but alex can't convince his stupid heart that everything is strictly platonic so if not to count this fact then he's good. he tells george as much and receives a surpisingly serious: 'alex, just go to another hotel, really. if this is too much for you, please don't- do you want me to check availability of hotels nearby? send me the address.'

it's very sweet. george's care wraps around him like a blanket and alex breathes out, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension. he takes few more deep breaths before replying: 'no, i- it's really nothing and i'm just freaking out for not reason. and it'd look weird if after agreeing i just leave to another hotel. besides, i slept in the same bed with you million times and it should be the same, right?'

'have you ever had a crush the size of great china's wall on me, albono?' george teases. 'anything you want to confess?'

'idiot. i'm fine,' alex repeats, chuckling. 'but thanks for the offer, mate. appreciate it.'

'of course.' george sighs, yawning. it's around two am in england and time difference really sucks because it's only nine pm in thailand but alex is already barely standing upright. 'you'll be fine, mate. maybe you'll even get lucky, who knows?'

alex highly doubts this prospect but doesn't voice it out loud. instead he says his goodbyes and goes back to the reception desk, where logan is signing some papers. alex has to pause because it's really unfair how good logan looks after seven hours flight and alex does not think so of his own bias: every single girl in the lobby agrees with him, eyeing his american friend up like he's some candy. well, alex supposes he is but-

'all done!' logan announces and looks up, sending brilliant smile alex's way. 'i've got the keys, let's go? or you wanna grab something from the bar first?'

'no, fuck, i'm absolutely knackered, let's go.'

it's not a spacious suite. which is not to say that it's bad, but the bed is certainly not a king size one and bathroom doesn't look like it'll fit two grown men brushing their teeth together there. alex hovers unsurely, not feeling very comfortable with taking not his space, but logan washes away his worries with: 'hey, this is your room too, okay? you're not intruding, i promise.'

and it's so earnest and sincere that alex lets himself unpack more confidently, even going as far as be the one to shower first. (which is the choice he made because he wanted to shower first, not because the thought of being in the shower that smells like logan's favorite citrusy shampoo is unbearing for him). he changes into his pj and takes left side of the bed, trying to figure out how both of them can fit here without touching. (and it's not like touching is bad per se, logan is okay with physical contact but touching is bad for alex's heart, which still refuses to see this all as a purely platonic thing).

'we are like two fifty years old men, going to bed at ten pm,' logan says, coming out of the bathroom. his citrusy scent carries on with him, invades the room and alex grips the sheets pathetically in response. god, where is the book on getting over unrequited crush on a friend? that'd be a great night time reading. 'but i think we can use jetlag as an excuse.'

alex tries not to stare. it's not like he's never seen logan's naked upper body but right now he kind of has nowhere to go and his eyes find toned muscles on their own. logan is stupidly fit. he looks like fashion magazine slapped him on the face, like he can do modeling as a solid job. he has shiny smile, sparkling eyes and unfortunately for alex, extremely kind and likable personality. alex thinks he was doomed from the start, to be honest.

'are you a blanket hogger? i think they have another one,' logan muses out loud, drying his hair with a towel in haphazard motions that send water drops flying everywhere. 'air-con on or off?'

'on.' alex replies, twisting uncomfortably and forcing himself to lay still. 'what about you?'

'hm?' logan turns and pauses, staring at alex on the bed. his eyes widen a little and alex is not sure but it looks like he's blushing even in the poor lightning. it takes few awkward seconds for logan to unfreeze and he stumbles away from his suitcase, almost tripping in the process. 'i'm fine! yeah, i'm fine with everything!'

alex blinks. he's not sure whether to comment on logan's high-pitched voice at the end or not; his friend steps closer and his face is as red as a tomato, so alex mercifully decides to say nothing. something twists in his gut, something akin to hope and it's dangerous, he can't afford it; even a silver of hope will make his heart grow bigger and if alex can't fit it in his chest already, what he'll do then?

'i can go,' alex blurts out suddenly. he catches logan's surprised inhale and adds: 'it's really no bother, i can just go to another hotel-'

'you're not comfortable?' logan interrupts, voice small and hesitant. when alex turns to look at him, his whole expression screams of a kicked puppy and that tugs at alex's heartstrings horrifically. 'with me?'

how does alex voice out his feelings? that he is afraid of how too comfortable he is with this whole ordeal? how this feels too domestic, which does unspeakable things to his heart and he's too damn young to have a heartstroke. how can he politely tell logan that he has to protect his heart from breaking and therefore the most logical solution is for him to leave? how can he tell him that when logan looks at him with those big grey-green eyes, clutching at the towel in his hands with the most miserable expression ever? answer is he can't and alex has never been logical when it comes to logan, so what he ends up saying is: 'of course i'm comfortable with you, mate.'

logan breathes out then, tension sips away from his posture and his bright smile is on: 'ah, you're still worried about like intruding and such? i told you to forget it, alex. i'm all good!'

that you are, alex thinks miserably, watching logan practically skip to the other side of the bed. you are very good. and usually it's never silent with logan, they share banter easily, conversations flows naturally but right now alex can't seem to focus on anything because logan apparently sleeps only with boxers on. american dream climbs into the bed with him and it becomes painfully clear how this is not a king size - fuck, not even a queen size - but is just a bit wider version of a simple single bed. alex is pretty sure if he or logan were on a bigger side then it would've been impossible to fit; now they fit just barely, arms and legs touching due to zero space. alex is hyperaware of logan's hairless leg pressing up to his - he has to will himself not to flinch at the contact.

'wanna watch something?' logan asks, evidently being the only normal one out of them two now. 'or you gonna sleep?'

tiredness practically weighs alex down, but logan is next to him, smelling good and looking happy for having alex with him and he clearly has some videos he wants to show, so alex indulges him with a nod. logan perks up at this - puppy, he's like a puppy - and shuffles close, closer, until his head is pillowed comfortably on alex's shoulder and his hair is right up alex's nose. 'so okay, i have few videos i wanted to show you.'

alex's arm is in the way. it's very obvious and yet alex hesitates, unsure if he can do what he desperately wants to - free his arm and wrap it around logan, pull him even closer until their joined body heat won't make him start sweating. it's for comfort, alex repeats like a mantra in his mind, when he moves his arm as casually as possible. logan is all on board with this, he instantly lifts up his head to give alex more room and shimmies closer with a contented sigh like he waited for this and- what alex can do with this information? how can he not read too much into this? logan presses play and giggles at the very start, saying something that alex doesn't catch. alex, in fact, doesn't catch anything what's happening, too focused on logan, who has no idea of turmoil happening in his friend's mind. george always says that alex can get too into his head but he thinks he has valid reasons to, especially now. logan's wet hair, logan's warm body, logan's scent, logan's laugh - he can't be blamed for what he does next, he'll blame it on tiredness and jetlag if anyone asks. alex leans in and places small kiss on logan's wet head as his hand moves from where it was wrapped around logan's shoulder to much, much lower, until it wraps comfortably around logan's middle, fingers touching the hem of his boxers. logan freezes at first - stops midsentence, doesn't move for few seconds. alex holds his breath, wondering if this is it, if he crossed the line; apology is on his lips, when logan suddenly shits and practically melts into him. he starts talking again and does unthinkable - grabs alex's waist and pulls it closer, silently asking alex to wrap his arm around him tighter. this is - crazy. alex can't hear anything apart from loud beating of his heart, he can't fucking breathe, when logan starts playing with his fingers, all while explaining some video to him.

'logan,' he calls out, voice raspy and tense.

'hm?' logan doesn't look up at first but when alex doesn't say anything, he raises his head a little, turning to the side to see alex's face better. 'yes?'

say something. alex just stares for a while. really drinks in logan's handsome features that he learned to love over the time they know each other. stares and stares and maybe he's delirious with want and his desire for it to be real, but he thinks he sees his own feelings reflected back at him in logan's stormy eyes. alex lets go of logan's hand and moves lower in a bold move, squeezing his hip. run away, he thinks, run away or i won't stop. logan, apparently, also has his logical mind turned off when it comes to alex, because he doesn't move. no, what he does is angle his hips just slightly so in an inviting manner and oh. oh.

'logan,' alex whispers and this name sounds like a prayer from his mouth. with other hand he reaches out to take a gentle hold of his chin. 'do not indulge me if that's now what you want.'

logan leans into the touch like a kitten, watching alex with a mix of awe and excitement. he pushes his leg in between, gets even closer to alex and stretches his neck uncomfortably all to grin at him widely: 'why don't you ask me, hm?'

alex swallows. 'that's not a game for me,' he says because he needs to say it, he needs to look out after his own heart.

logan's grin fades, gets replaced with a serious frown. 'i'm not playing.'

and- can alex dream? can he have this? can he be bold and selfish and just take-

'ask me,' logan asks, no, demands. 'because if you ask me then i'll be able to tell everything.'

'what you'd tell?' alex asks, getting lost in his eyes.

logan smiles softly, taking his own hand to gently cup side of alex's face, caressing his cheekbone. 'i'd tell you that i liked you from the second you smiled at me. i'd tell you that being your friend is the biggest honor, but i'd also add that just being your friend would've never been enough. i'd tell how happy you make me, how proud of you i am, how i want you around, always.' logan leans in, brushing their noses together. 'i'd tell how much i want you.'

'how much?' alex speaks into his mouth, not breathing.

'so much, alex,' logan shivers, plastering himself all over thai guy. 'you have no idea.'

alex's hand moves, cupping his neck. 'i think i do, actually.'

the kiss is everything. it's slow and deep, it's exploring each other's mouths with tongues like devouring one another is a good option, it's exhilirating and murderous. alex thinks he won't ever be able to kiss anyone else again. he leans back, pushes their foreheads together and smiles at the way logan's pale hands try to touch him everywhere they can reach. 'i was going crazy,' he whispers, making logan stop. 'with how much i want you. how much i want to be more than friends.'

logan giggles, blushes adorably and hides his face in alex's neck. 'we are idiots. we could've been doing this for- wait, how long have you been pining for me?'

'long enough,' alex mutters, not even correcting the 'pining' thing. it's true, anyways. 'how long you have been pining for me?'

'oh no mister, that's not how it works!' logan laughs and gets on top of him easily. 'you don't get to turn this around!'

alex grabs a hold of his hips and looks at him with a smile. he's not even ashamed of the fact that he basically is pulling out full on heart eyes on logan because logan looks exactly the same way at him and it's - amazing. brilliant. perfect. logan is perfect.

'i did get lucky in the end, huh,' alex mutters to himself, thinking about call with george.

'what?' logan asks, leaning down. he finds alex's lips and yeah, alex can get used to this so, so easily.

'nothing, babe,' he says, smiling at logan's blush at the petname. 'nothing.'

a/n: if you think that this looks unfinished then it's because i can't stop and will get carried away writing it, so i had to pull a stop somewhere. hopefully this was good, let me know! - nini

my other formula 1 works are here

my seventeen works are here

[yanderepuck]

Kinktober Day 30

AND WE'RE BACK FOR A FOURTH TIME. It's that lovely time of the year where I write mediocre smut with no plot for a whole month. So sit your ass down and take a few minutes to read some smut.

As always, kinktober is held by our local Napoleon simp, @xxsycamore

If you'd like to read the last three years, go here

Remember to reblog and tell me what you think

Somno | Aftercare

It was still early in the evening but you were already feeling exhausted. So exhausted that you could barely keep your eyes open. It's not like you did anything differently today. Why are you so tired?

"You look exhausted," Charles says from across the table, noticing how your eyes keep fluttering.

"I feel like I'm going to pass out. I don't know why though," you run a hand through your hair and let out a deep breath.

"Are you not feeling well? Did you not sleep enough last night," he tries to reach over the table to feel your forehead.

"No no. I'm fine," you get him to sit back down.

"Go to bed and rest, I'll help with clean up," Faust suggests.

Vlad gives Faust a weird look. "I don't think I've ever heard you offer to help."

"Don't expect me to do dishes."

It used to be just Charles who did all the cleaning. But once you started living there you have been helping him with chores.

"Now go to bed. I don't need you exhausting yourself."

He urges you to go to bed so you do. Heading up to his room you aren't sure how you didn't collapse while walking.

"Ugh. What's wrong with me."

You get there and start to change but only get as far as taking your outer clothes off before you flip down on the bed, thinking this is good enough.

The moment your head hits the pillow you are out. You didn't even get the chance to cover yourself with the blanket.

Not long later Faust comes into his room, not even being careful of being quiet. He knows you're not waiting up.

Shutting the door he walks over next to the bed. His hand grabs your jaw and has your face looking towards him. You don't stir.

He chuckles to himself. "Maybe I used a little too much."

He lets you go and gets your underwear and bra off, dropping them into the pile of the clothes on the floor. His clothes join the pile and he gets on the bed.

"Maybe I should have warned you. Charles is going to be annoying over this," he huffs and spreads your legs open. "But you not knowing is so much more fun," he leans down and kisses your chest.

He holds one of your boobs tightly and kisses your nipple before giving it a slight bite. A soft whimper comes through but it's clear that your body is too tired to even react.

"Just like a ragdoll."

He sits back up, getting your legs spread wide and thrusts into you, moaning. The moment he is in you he starts fucking you. He doesn't even need to wait for you to adjust. The only way you are moving is if he moves you.

His thrusts into you hard. If you were awake you would already be screaming, but you make only moans and whimpers. Your body feels too heavy to move it. You won't know until morning when you are sore that anything even happened.

Faust feels as if he's never been able to get so deep. He moves your legs so that your knees are to your chest, essentially forcing you into a breeding press.

"F-fuck you're better unconscious."

His cock is being sure to bruise your insides. Hitting your cervix over and over. He wants you to feel it tomorrow. He wants you to feel cum leaking out of you all day.

He grabs your hands and pins them above your head. It's not like you are going anywhere but pinning you down feels so much better.

He leans down and kisses your neck, biting you a few times to leave marks before finally sinking his teeth into you. Your body seems to jerk for a moment but he isn't phased.

"It's so much better when you can't move," he growls. He knows he didn't have to ask you about any of this. You want it. He knows you do. There's no purpose in asking when he already knows.

He grits his teeth as he pushes you into the mattress. He feels himself getting close but isn't slowing down.

"Ungh, f-fuck."

Even as he cums he keeps thrusting into you. At first it was fuck to get all the cum out, but now with your walls slick with his cum he doesn't want to stop again. He wants to fuck that cum so deep inside you that you are dripping your days. That at any moment you're ready to be fucked because you are still slick with his cum. So he keeps fucking you until he's the one ready to pass out.

[bluelancelion]

So, I've been re-watching Stranger Things S1 - S4 and I got things to say just to let them out of my system.

First of all, kudos to the Duffer Brothers for one of the best found family ever created. I love the gang, I love the later addition of Max, Robin and Eddie. The characters are clean.

But here's the thing, let's talk about characters and, more specifically, Steve and Nancy.

So, we pretty much got a weird vibe between Nance and Steve in S4, kinda heavy hinting that Steve is totally not over Nance and they might get back together.

Now here's why this is a bad move.

First of all, I heard somewhere that Stranger Things is supposed to end like a circle, so many things that we've seen in S1 might return by the end of S5 (aka last season).

IF that's true, quoting some fans theories, then:

- Robin is gonna become Nancy's bestie (taking Barb's place)

- Steve and Nancy are gonna get back together (?)

Look.

I know what you're cooking here.

Steve and Nancy started their relationship when they both weren't fully evolved as characters, right? We're gonna pull a "right person, wrong moment" move in S1 that's gonna come back in s5 because after their MASSIVE character development, Steve and Nancy are basically two complete new people.

THAT could've worked IF Johnathan didn't exist.

Cause let's be real here, if Johnathan didn't exist, this trope would've been perfectly fit. BUT-

You guys gave us the whole "Nancy likes Steve but she's not in love with him" and then you pull out Johnny boy and pretend like we don't pick up the fact that Nancy loves him?

Plus, if Murray says so, then it's law.

I don't make the rules here! He's basically jesus, everything he says is right and if that man says Nancy and Johnathan love each other, then they love each other. If he says Hopper and Joyce love each other, then that's true, no questions asked.

"But people change, and Murray could always say that as things are now, Nancy and Steve are perfect for each other."

Yeah, maybe, but then what was the point of giving us such good chemistry between Johnathan and Nancy? They've hit it off since season 1, carrying it all on season 2, had a difficulty overcome TOGETHER in season 3, making their relationship even stronger if you ask me-

Only for it to... to what? In season 4? (I haven't rewatched season 4 yet so I don't remember the details except they wanna go to different colleges, but I'm dead sure they don't break up yet)

But noooo, the Duffer Brothers want to give us a lesson. Every person in our life is important to us and they shape the person we are today. Nancy needed a Johnathan in her life, in that specific moment of her life, not a Steve. But as we get closer to the future, or the present in s5, we might find out that the character that is Nancy Wheeler in that season, in that period of her life, doesn't need a Johnathan anymore, but a Steve.

And I don't say "need" as if boys can be swapped like socks, I mean that maybe Nancy is building her future somewhere where Johnathan doesn't want to be, or maybe Johnathan is growing into a man who's goals are far away from Nancy's.

And this is heartbreaking, cause you know these causes might lead to a break up and it had NOTHING to do with their feelings for each other. Nancy and Johnathan love each other, no matter if they break up or not because what they want in life is different.

Which brings us back to Steve getting back with Nancy.

Look, I'm all in for people finding happiness, but it feels a bit odd to give us such a good couple, make them break up (and thus breaking our hearts, but no matter what, we'll still love them both because life led them to break up, not their feelings)... Only for Nancy to be RANDOMLY back with Steve? Like???

I don't know, it gives me a bittersweet taste.

Now. Let's not forget this is Stranger Things, and stuff might go fucking south like:

- Johnathan dies and Nancy is left grieving. We have a timeskip into the future where Nance and Steve are together again, fighting the grief in the company of each other. Maybe in the past, Steve and Johnathan fought side by side in the Upside Down and it was Steve who failed to save Johnatan. In the meanwhile Steve and Nancy got closer as well, so it's easier to digest their reunion if it's under this perspective.

But seriously? Are we gonna pull that, Duffers?

OR Steve dies (please no) and Nancy's right there to hear his last wish and maybe she kisses him? Like a goodbye forever kiss, they might've worked out if it weren't for Jonathan and how things went in the end, yadda yadda

Honestly, I can think of a bunch of theories about how this could go, but no matter HOW it goes, I still think that making Steve not over Nancy is a tiny bit of an insult to his character development.

After Robin, his character was peak. He was supposed to get with her (which let's admit it, we all low-key rooted for it) but when Robin's actress proposed her idea of making Robin a lesbian, literally everything went from perfect to THE EPITOME OF PERFECTION. King (hair) Steve Harrington, popular once douchebag, now single mom besties with a lesbian? Peak writing. PEAK. WRITING.

You know what could've been even more peak? Making Steve come out as bi and have a little thing with Eddie but y'all were cowards

BACK TO MY POINT. Steve wishes for and deserves a soulmate, never ending love and a family. And, in a way, he has that already through the kids, through Robin, his friends-

I just... I don't think, and I neither see Nancy being that person for Steve. And it sucks cause they could've made a character specifically for Steve to fall in love with (I know, that was supposed to be Robin but since she's not anymore, either give Steve someone new cough Eddie would've been a good match cough OR give us a new female character so he can have his dream love story and we'd all be happy) instead of recycling old characters who had an awesome journey just to end where it all began.

And I get it, this is supposed to be Stranger Things ending, right? To finish where it all started.

And again, the Steve and Nancy of S5 might be exactly who they need in their lives at that moment.

But after EVERYTHING we've seen so far in these 4 season? Nah man. Just... It doesn't work.

I'd be happy to hear your thoughts :)

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

hiii! if you're up to it, can i request college!regina x fem!roommate!reader where they decided to drink as a celebration after their finals and things took a turn after they drank more than they could handle (either a kiss or something more, all up to you!!) + "… that shouldn’t have happened."

fluff ending or angsty ending all up to youu i trust your mind!! thank you so much!

Mistake That Can't be Taken Back

|| Regina George x fem!reader

|| Warnings; smut, swearing, Regina teasing reader, both girls get drunk and hook up, grinding, breast play, nipple sucking, orgasms, light choking, angst ending

|| Summary; when reader and Regina finish their finals, they have a little celebration in their dorm.

Requests open!

Started; october 29th

Finished; october 30th

~~~

"Yes, bitch!! We're done!" You cheered as you and your roommate made it back to the dorm; it was finally over. The big test that the whole year had led up to. At this point you hardly cared if you passed, you were just so fucking thankful that it was over with.

Regina couldn't help but smile a little as she watched your mini celebration, remembering how she felt when she first met you. She thought you were weird, stupid and flat out annoying. But over the last couple semesters she's learnt to get used to you. Even considered you a friend. "Woah, don't start partying without me." She smirked at you and you laughed a little, giving her a sheepish wink that made the blonde's eyes roll.

She headed to your shared fridge and took out some alcohol she managed to get just for this occasion. It was some experience shit, you could just tell by the bottle. "Damn, blondie. How much did that bottle cost?" You asked, looking up at her.

Her eyebrow raised and she folded her arms across her chest," never ask a girl how much she spends on alcohol." Regina couldn't help but tease you. She loved making you think she was mad at you, your startled reactions amused Regina. You knew about what Regina had been like in highschool, you didn't have to have gone to NorthShore to know. Everyone heard the stories and rumours when Regina arrived at your college. But you could tell that wasn't the same person who stood before you. She's really trying to make an effort; you just couldn't help feeling a little nervous about her sometimes. Knowing that people can change just as easily as they can choose to go back.

Regina opened the bottle and poured a glass for the two of you, putting on some tunes. A collective playlist the two of you made. Featuring your favourite artists as well as Regina's. She handed your glass to you and you smiled," Thanks, G."

You took a sip from your glass, feeling the alcohol flow down your throat. Definitely tasted like what you expected rich people alcohol to. But it surprisingly wasn't that bad. The flavour was good. Your smile brightened a little and you took some more. Regina laughed at your reaction," easy, I'm not cleaning up your vomit."

"I'll be fine!" You told her. Talk about famous last words, right? Surprisingly enough though, you didn't jinx yourself. You kept your alcohol in as you and Regina had a mini two person party.

The two of you getting drunk, dancing and laughing together. Rambling about anything in everything. When a slow song played, you could feel the atmosphere change. Regina's eyes looked into yours as the two of you sat on her bed. Being on her bed likely didn't help the situation at all, either.

Before either of you knew it, your lips were moving against one another. You'd moved yourself into her lap and gently pushed her down to the sheets. Hips grinding against hers as she moaned into your lips. Hand coming up to gently grip your neck; just enough to apply pressure to your throat. You wanted her in the moment. Needed her just as much as she needed you. Your bodies moved against each other's, building the friction between the two of you.

It wasn't long before your clothes were tossed and discarded onto the floor. Forgotten about as you explored each other's bodies. Regina's hand moved from your neck to your chest, feeling the soft skin as she squeezed. Massaging your breasts while she kissed you. Her tongue darting past your lips. You couldn't help but moan, letting her do whatever she wanted. Your clit rubbed against hers, trying to chase your release. Feeling the sensation build up in your stomach and twist in knots that became almost too much to handle. Your body trembled as Regina held you, breaking the kiss and moving her lips to your neck. Leaving hickies and trailing down until she reached your breasts. Her lips latched around your nipple as she sucked them. Moaning against your skin, the vibrations heightening your own sensations. The alcohol making you vulnerable to sensitivity.

The blonde brought you to release, feeling yourself cum onto her clit. She smirked against your breast, though she never stopped her movements. Bringing herself to her own orgasm.

The next morning, you and Regina both woke up with a sense of dread. You slowly sat up in her sheets, still naked from the night before. Shaking your head a little and resting your hand to your forehead. Fuck.. as good as it felt.. it really shouldn't have happened. The two of you were drunk. Just friends. Roommates.

"That shouldn't have happened." Regina whispered, as if reading your thoughts. This was a mistake that can't be taken back. And you both knew that. What did it mean for your friendship?

[lotties-ashwagandha]

YELLOWJACKETS & HALLOWEEN (headcanons)

i did headcanons like this last year but i don’t know where they went so im making them again! this is for adult yellowjackets and is sfw. i did not take writing these seriously.

SHAUNA

horror movie queen. halloween is the one night of the year where she can let out her inner freak without getting judged for it and she takes full advantage

she wants to watch slasher movies. she wants to binge watch scream and halloween and also weird supernatural horror and then she wants to have in-depth discussions about what the two of you thought was good and bad and meaningful and not meaningful afterwards

i think halloween for her was very different when callie was little though, she obviously couldn’t spend the night with a six year old having a scream marathon. i can see her really loving the halloween nights when she would take callie around trick or treating and handing out candy, it was something pure and fun to celebrate every year and it was refreshing to her.

now listen to me though. i feel like she would be anti pumpkin spice fight me on it but she would say it tastes like chemicals. she won't be going near it.

LOTTIE

“carving this pumpkin will heal my inner child spiritually” she says the day before halloween and then she cuts her hand, gets pissed, and her night is ruined

but listen. i know this woman pulls out all her orange, black, purple type caftans in the fall. she WILL be color coordinating with the seasons like pinterest’s number one freak

decorating for halloween with her would be such an intricate practice too, you obviously wouldn’t do it on halloween but going and getting some new decor for the house every year and discussing the aesthetics and what theme you want around the wellness center for fall and halloween would be so much fun

dare i say pumpkin spice latte queen? except she can’t handle leaving hippie wellness center so she learns to make everything at home and she builds a starbucks equivalent in your kitchen

in general I think she would try to stay away from horror films or anything like that on halloween, she's especially not watching any supernatural horror because it fucks with her now after all of the things she’s seen that were “supernatural” in the wilderness but she would love more stereotypical cute halloween movies like hocus pocus or even practical magic. you have themed movie dates and drinks and watch them together. 😋

TAISSA

she doesn't hand out candy she hands out dirt and sits in her favorite tree

just kidding i guess

i think she would love halloween though in general, especially celebrating it with her son. when he was really little she definitely had matching costumes or at least costumes that went together with sammy, like how families will dress up as the incredibles with their kids or as the addams family

she would do something with her political campaign when it comes to halloween, too. i don't know what it would be, maybe some weird costume contest online or idfk but she goes halloween crazy and every part of her life is going to be involved in it

she's also the queen of pumpkin carving because she would get so intense about it. no one can bother her during pumpkin carving or they're getting their ass lit up like a jack-o-lantern candle

like shauna, she is on the anti pumpkin spice team.

VAN

van thrives during halloween season. put her in front of the television with some old horror films and you wont hear from her for a month

she loves going to pumpkin patches and corn mazes too. she's probably who got taissa into carving pumpkins. she would love those giant pumpkin patches and farms where you can go apple picking and pet goats and shit. her profile picture on every social media platform is an awkward selfie of her feeding a goat

van is also an apple cider fiend in my opinion, and those funky apple cider and pumpkin donuts

like lottie she is on the pro pumpkin spice team, she loves it.

NATALIE

young natalie would have loved halloween, but i feel like adult timeline natalie would be relatively over it unless she had a partner that really loved halloween. if you can get her back into the vibe she'll be so into it, but she probably wouldn't do much if just living alone

if she's handing out candy she's going to try to scare as many children as possible. it becomes a mission that only the bravest children will leave with candy after trick or treating at her place. she'll jump out at them with masks or have some of those animatronic decorations that scream at people in the yard once the motion censors are triggered.

she has a bomb as fuck fall playlist too but it's not spooky scary skeletons and that shit it's old rock music

she's relatively neutral when it comes to pumpkin spice, not particularly passionate about it either way.

MISTY

if there is any holiday that screams misty quigley, it's halloween

oh she has so much fun

she will find a way to get a costume custom made for caligula each year and then she'll post pictures of him in all of the bird-related reddit communities she's in.

she hyperfixates on the history of halloween and will info dump to you about it

also loves scaring children but loves scaring adults even more

might try to break into your house at night as a halloween prank because she doesn't know how far is too far

pro pumpkin spice.

[squinch-depraved]

hi. i couldn't help myself and had to come back you should write lc!schlatt and reader at his friends halloween party,you can pick the costumes because i have no idea for that..it should totally stem off of intoxication etc whatever you want to put for your idea on this and another reason was because halloween month is here:)

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

i hope this is good i kinda just let this one take me where it wanted to take me idk

CW: intox/cnc/dubcon kinda

you knew as soon as you saw him across the party that the night would end with you two hooking up. he was dressed in a knight costume (it was a simple one, but he pulled it off really well) and you were in a cute little witch's outfit. the two of you were stealing glances at each other all night, and whenever you went to refresh your drink, he would walk up to the alcohol table just to get a chance to talk to you.

"some party, huh?" he asked awkwardly, refilling his cup with way more whiskey than he had any business taking.

you snorted, smiling, and eyed him up and down as you tried to decide what beverage to grab. you settled on taking the whiskey from him and filled your cup up almost as much as he did. "you've been eye-fucking me all night and that's your opener?" you teased him as you clinked your plastic cups together and took a big gulp.

schlatt's face flushed as he held eye contact with you. "what the fuck else am i supposed to say??" he fumbled, making you giggle. the melodic sound stuck in his mind for the rest of the night- he loved when he made you laugh like that.

"you're fine, jay, i was just messing with you. fuck, my head is spinning," you assured him before taking another long sip. about half of the contents of your cup were gone now, and he raised his eyebrows at how drunk you must be- he had been watching you for most of the night, this had to have been your fifth trip to the table.

"maybe don't drink that much that fast?" he suggested in a joking tone. he hoped you were too far gone to detect the genuine concern in his voice.

"don't tell me what to do," you squinted at him. "i'm fine." you were almost swaying at this point.

"alright," he agreed reluctantly, putting his hands up to show he believed you. "you wanna go sit down somewhere, though? it's kinda loud in here, maybe we can find somewhere to sit and talk or something."

you eyed him suspiciously. "just talk?"

he nodded and tried to look sincere. "yeah, if that's all you want."

and so he led you to the only space the two of you could find that wasn't crowded with your drunk friends- a small, dimly lit bathroom. schlatt felt a bit weird sitting down with you on the floor, backs to the bathtub, but enjoyed it nonetheless.

after a bit, you traded your cup for his so you had more to drink.

"hey!" he objected, but you weren't listening. you were just taking long gulps of the alcohol, grimacing as it burned your throat on the way down.

"y'know, i really don't mind that you've been staring at me all night. makes me feel special," you slurred. "i like when you make me feel special."

his face reddened and he took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. "what about it makes you feel so special? i'm just admiring you." his voice was shaky.

"just the way you stare. you've always got this hunger in your eyes when you look at me; usually, i try to ignore it, but tonight, i'm too drunk to shove the feelings down."

schlatt smirked at your admission. "so there's feelings?" he sounded more sure of himself now.

with a chuckle, you nodded and took another sip from your cup. "there are definitely feelings. i've just been ignoring them for a while because i didn't know how you felt." after swallowing a large mouthful of the amber liquid, you sighed deeply. "can't believe i'm actually telling you this, i'm gonna regret it so much in the morning. if i even remember..." you muttered.

he shifted on the floor next to you uncomfortably, moving his legs in an attempt to alleviate some of the tension in his groin. "listen, i'm not as drunk as you, but," he took a long gulp from his plastic cup, "there are some feelings on my end, too, if that helps. i dunno..." he sniffed and inspected a framed painting that was hanging on the wall.

you felt your cheeks heat up at his confession and finished off your drink hastily. "can you fuck me?"

"w-what?" he sputtered, turning to stare at you.

"can you fuck me?" you repeated. "tired of waiting for you, j. i know i'm wasted, and maybe i won't have any recollection of this happening when i'm sober again, but i need you right now."

schlatt blinked a few times, running over your request in his mind, and ran his fingers through his hair. "isn't that, like... taking advantage? ted said something about drunk people not being able to fully consent," he mumbled. you sighed frustratedly and grabbed his chin, turning him to look at you.

"i don't give a shit, schlatt. fuck me." the demand caused his pants to tighten, and you glanced down at his lap just in time to see his bulge twitch slightly. grinning, you scooted closer towards him, savoring the look of desire in his eyes. "i can tell you want it just as much as i do. c'mon, baby, please. take advantage of me." his breath hitched in his throat, and in an instant, he was standing up and extending a hand down to you to help you rise as well. as soon as you were both on your feet, he pressed you against the counter and pulled you in for a deep kiss, sliding his tongue into your mouth after biting your lip. you yelped and jumped up onto the surface behind you, sitting down on it and spreading your legs open so he had easier access for whatever he wanted to do.

"mm, you're so eager," he breathed into your ear before taking it between his teeth gently. a whimper escaped your lips, any confidence you had now gone from how flustered his dominance was making you. "you've been thinking about this for a while, haven't you?"

another whine slipped out, and you wrapped your legs around him in an attempt to hold him close.

"yeah, bet you've just been dreaming about being used by me. sounds like it, judging by how easy it is to make you moan for me." his velvet smooth words coated your eardrums, rendering you helpless as he reached and slid your stockings and panties down. using his thumb to collect your slick, he brought it up to your mouth and pressed it onto your tongue. the taste of yourself being forced upon you like this left you rolling your eyes back into your head.

"good slut," he whispered with a slight smile. withdrawing his thumb, he swiftly dove in to replace his digit with his tongue, swirling and exploring your mouth with such passion that it made you dizzy. after he had enough of the taste of whiskey on your lips, he lowered himself between your thighs and stared up at you, eyes full of longing.

"you don't know how long i've wanted to do this for you," he said earnestly.

for me. not to me, you thought fleetingly.

"then do it." the words were barely audible, but they made him grin and duck his head under your dress. as soon as his tongue met your folds, clumsy and desperate to taste you, you were a moaning mess. you tried to cover your mouth, but he reached one arm up to reach for your hand and pulled it off.

"lemme hear you," he mumbled against your core. "you wanted to be fucked here so bad, you get to be embarrassed by your choices."

a whorish noise spilled from your lips before he continued, "and say my name, too. want people to know who's makin' you feel this good."

he sped up his tongue, circling your clit over and over, and inserted two fingers into you one by one. the speed at which he pumped them in and out of you would have been cruel if it didn't make you feel so euphoric. it didn't take him long to make you cum, you were so worked up- not to even mention how drunk you were; that always made it so much easier for you to orgasm.

"please, schlatt!! ohh, fuck, oh my god!" you screamed as your legs trembled around his head. he smiled against your cunt and pressed a few messy kisses to it before pulling away to stare up at you. his face was covered in your juices, although you almost didn't notice it due to his expression of pure adoration.

he rose after a few moments of admiring you, undoing his pants just enough to expose his length and positioned himself between your legs once more. "god, this is gonna feel so good," he babbled as he fished a condom out of his pocket.

"you don't have to use that," you offered, snapping out of your daze of staring at his cock.

"'s fine. wanna make sure i'm sober the first time i cum in you. don't wanna even risk not remembering it." his words sent a shudder down your spine; did he want to do this again? would this be more than a one-night stand? you prayed that it would be as he slid the protection onto his shaft.

schlatt made eye contact with you as he pressed his tip against your sensitive bud. you drew in a small breath and clutched onto his shoulders, trying to keep the room from spinning.

"you ready?" he asked, planting a warm kiss on your neck. you nodded as you let out a sharp gasp and braced yourself for him to enter you. it hurt a bit when he did, but the hiss you let out didn't make him stop. he just kept pushing in until he was buried to the hilt between your velvet walls.

he gave you a few seconds before he started moving. it was awkward at first; you were both intoxicated, so it was bound to be a little clumsy, but every second felt incredible. once he established a rhythm, rolling his hips so hard they smacked against your ass, you were clawing at his back and chanting his name. the doorknob rattled loudly and some people laughed on the other side of the door- it sounded like ted and a few of your other friends, but you couldn't be sure.

"fuck," he grunted, gripping your hip with one hand and using the other to cup your face and bring you in for a kiss. "so fuckin' good for me, you stupid little whore." the mixture of praise and degradation made the knot that was forming in your stomach tighten, and you groaned into his mouth. "you gonna cum for me again, doll?"

with a vigorous nod, you leaned your head back against the mirror and surrendered to the endless pleasure schlatt was giving you. "i think i'm gonna cum, too," he grinned. "you keep gettin' tighter and tighter around me, it's gettin' impossible to- nnggh, keep, it together, holy shit! fuck, i'm gonna cum!"

with one final slam into you, he bit down on your shoulder through your dress and groaned loudly, chest heaving. you yelped as he did so and wrapped your arms around him for a hug, which he immediately reciprocated. after pulling out of you and discarding the very full condom, he helped you down and assisted you in fixing your costume so you could return to the party with at least a little bit of dignity.

"wanna come sleep at my place?" he offered. "i feel like it's the least i can do after... that." he smiled softly and adjusted a strand of your hair that was out of place.

"only if we can do it again," you bargained.

"deal. i'll call an uber." he stepped out of the bathroom and shut the door behind him, leaving you to have a second to yourself. you made the final fixes to your costume and applied a coat of your lip gloss before taking a deep breath and exiting the room, ready to face whatever else was in store for you that night.

[wwasted]

me, lying here wide awake at 4 am unable to stop thinking about a clegan social media high school au. so here’s a thousand words of Thoughts so maybe I can sleep tonight.

Gale’s instagram isn’t all that telling when you’re viewing it. He doesn’t really post himself that often because he doesn’t find himself that interesting to look at despite how the girls at school react to him. It’s all pictures of endless Wyoming skies in shades of orange and pink, animals he sees while he walks home from school, and Marge. The few photos he does have of himself are giving artsy indie folk all americana boy, the tousled blond hair and blueblueblue eyes. John’s page on the other hand is chaos. He regularly posts memes that make absolutely no sense, like he’s def got deep fried brain rot. He has notifications turned on for the nutter butter TikTok account. It’s a lot of him at parties hanging off people because he’s tactile and loves being a good time boy. And then even more prevalent is him in his baseball uniform. Which is how Gale finds him one day, when he pops up on his popular page and he just about throws his phone out the window. For a minute he almost panic refreshes because his mind is not ready to confront the fact that he’s definitely fucking gay judging by the way he felt like he was falling out of a plane without a parachute at just a glance of John. And honestly who could blame him? The tight baseball pants tucked into long socks, the shirt that looks way too tight to actually be something the guy can wear to play a sport, the serious determined look he has. And Gale refuses to believe this dude isn’t a fucking actor or a model or something because who the fuck looks like that as a teenager? Yeah Gale got an average height and decent voice from the puberty lottery but he sure as fuck wasn’t built like that. And then he clicks on his page and realizes that John has 600 something followers (which is crazy, bc Gale has like 60, he can’t imagine knowing that many people) and is definitely a high school student judging by his bio. And he just kind of dies a little bit? He feels light headed, like he’s been struck dumb by just one picture of this kid. And is it possible to fall in love with someone from just one picture? Gale doesn’t want to deal with those thoughts. So he just turns off his phone and stares at the ceiling, willing himself to sleep so he can’t forget about John and baseball pants. He doesn’t even fucking like sports.

But he definitely remembers John’s username (even though he’d rather not and it’s probably something weird so he really shouldn’t) and he’ll come back a few times a week and check to see if John’s posted anything new. And John doesn’t disappoint. He’s much more open about sharing himself and his life than Gale ever could be. And he’s content with having this crush from afar because he’s absolutely never following this guy (yeah he has a lot of followers, but not enough that he wouldn’t notice if someone new followed him) and it all goes according to plan until he’s sitting with Marge at lunch one day, and she’s hanging off him, arm around his shoulders, talking to one of her girlfriends. And Gale can’t resist sneaking a peek at John’s insta. (Cue Gale frantically googling whether it’s possible to be addicted to looking at a person) and Marge just happens to glance down when she feels the change in his body language and it’s totally innocent, she just thinks maybe this is some guy Gale is talking to, she knows he’s been trying to discreetly explore his sexuality more and is trying to be supportive, so she says “oh he’s cute” and reaches down and double taps a photo of John leaning against a wall with a red solo cup in his hand, head slightly tilted back so his neck is exposed in a way that’s fucking indecent, especially with the way the collar of his black shirt is loose, like someone grabbed it and pulled so there’s just a flash of strong shoulder and collarbone. Somehow even worse he’s kinda sweaty, curls a mess, smiling at the person taking the picture like he just got away with something. And Gale loses it lmao like he’s not mad because he hates getting mad but also what the fuck and he quickly explains all this to Marge who feels absolutely terrible but also tries to talk Gale into not unliking the photo “it’ll just make it even more weird, I promise, he probably won’t even see it or he’ll think it’s someone he goes to school with it’ll be fine” and she’s so calm and reassuring that Gale starts to believe her (even tho in the back of his mind he realizes that he couldn’t have liked a more incriminating photo if he tried, he sneaks a glance at the likes and comments the photo already has and it’s almost all girls with a few guys sprinkled in which duh the photo is fucking pure sin and absolutely should not be perceived by people but Gale thanks whatever higher power there is that John doesn’t seem to realize that)

And so he goes home and is content with the fact that it’ll probably be fine. He’ll take a tolerance break from looking at John and in a week, everything will be normal again. He’ll quietly thirst from a far and work on getting the hell out of this town. But then right before he’s going to bed, he gets a notification from instagram. And he assumes it’s Marge sending him cat memes like she always does so he’s not really thinking anything of it until he wakes up his phone and his mind completely crashes out bc that is definitely John’s fucking username with a DM attached. Gale doesn’t think he’s ever moved so fast in his life, quite literally catapulting himself from his bed and immediately FaceTimes Marge while silently screaming. And she’s trying so hard to be supportive and not laugh at Gale’s reaction, but she can’t help it. He’s worse than she is when she has a crush. She slowly coaxes him to at least read the preview of the message, even if Gale is adamant that he’s not opening it, in fact he’s deleting his instagram. He’s deleting all his social media. He’s getting rid of his phone and he’s gonna hike into the mountains of Wyoming and live off grid until he dies.

“hey do I know u?”

—

Also i imagine gale’s profile picture being something like this:

bc like i said artsy lil indie fucker and when John (who is very comfortable in his bisexuality) sees it he can’t believe that’s a real person in the world (which funny bc Gale doesn’t view himself as someone who would be attractive to others, in his mind he’s average, maybe below average bc of his anti social tendencies) and John is just hoping that this is some new kid at their school and he’s absolutely going to r u i n him so he hits the follow button and sends that message, hoping hoping hoping.

—

Does Marge talk him into replying? How does Gale explain himself to John? If he does, how does John take the fact that Gale lives almost 16 hours away from him?

Next time on dragon ball z or smth