kinardsboy · 3 days ago
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This has been sitting on my mind a lot lately but it seems extra relevant now with the way Tommy and by extension Lou has been criticized for acting “too gay” in ep 5. And while yes, I will agree Tommy acted slightly different in ep 5, it has absolutely everything to do with Lou’s incredible acting choices to play Tommy differently when he is around people he deems as “safe” which is much better explained in this amazing post here <-
All these complains are doing is just yet again exposing buddies as homophobes who are, at the end of the day. Uncomfortable with real queerness being shown infront of them. Of course we already knew this with how they react to Buck and Tommy kissing and god forbid flirting especially if it has sexual implications like the daddy kink scene.
They can’t possibly fathom their precious uwu baby Buck would be sexual with another man so they spin and twist it however they can to make it out to be, “NO! You see! Tommy started the flirting! Tommy is just an insatiable horny gay man! He only wants sex! Like most of them do!”
Which is again spewing homophobic rhetoric, who wouldve guessed thats what they immediately turn to?
I now have something probably controversial to say but oh well, im going to say it anyway.
A good many of these shippers would be deeply uncomfortable with Buddie actually becoming canon, because they would be nothing like their fanfic. They don’t want to see two men in a relationship, they want to see Eddie in a relationship with the character they project themselves onto.
There are so many examples of this but perhaps the biggest being the way Buck is made out to be the “woman” in the relationship and especially how he is made to be the “mom”
Buck and Tommy’s relationship 1st does not have any children involved so there are no gendered roles to be assigned (even though if there was.. theyd just both be a dad), they are both beefy and the same height, which is what people usually use to decide “top” and “bottom” but again since there is little physical difference between them, they cannot do this, which only adds to their uncomfortableness.
Furthermore, I would go as far to say that Buddie shippers dont actually like Buck.
A while back a shipper posted this analysis of Buddie, that essentially reduces Buck to a dog. A pet. Only to be let out of the bedroom to cook and take care of Chris, otherwise he’s meant only for Eddie’s pleasure.
Which, disgusting. But the thing that stood out most to me was how Tommy was criticized for
letting Buck be himself. For accepting and loving him flaws and all. For not trying to change anything, or “train” the bad out of him
While Eddie was the “trainer” in that scenario, that had to train the bad out of Buck in order for him to be acceptable.
And thats the funny thing isnt it? Buddie shippers have to completely warp and destroy Buck’s character to make him fit their mold of perfect partner for Eddie. They make him out to be this helpless person who can’t even tell Tommy he doesnt want to be called Evan, that needs rescuing from Tommy, that is a “mother figure” to Chris, that his “dream role” would be live in chef and maid for the diaz family..
When none of that is Buck.
Buck is a smart, independent and strong man. He has worked tirelessly on himself to know who he is and what he wants, which right now? Is with Tommy.
Bringing it back to my main point, their complaints of Tommy being more gay and Bucktommy intimacy ultimately just boil down to homophobia plain and simple, seeing real queer representation and not representation that they can specifically twist and cater to themselves through fic, headcanons or gifs, makes them uncomfortable
(could this be why so many of them ignore shows with canon m/m ships for favor of shows with fanon ones that will never actually happen? So they can make these demands for representation then shit on it as soon as they get it because its not fanfic? Its not their fetish specifically catered to them? It actually represents real life queer men who they don’t actually like?)
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sunnie-angel · 1 day ago
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bonus story (oct 31) | breeding kink
✮⋆˙ baby girl
your girlfriend jay todd is hot. like seriously life ruiningly hot. so hot you want her ring and for her to put a baby in you. and if you think jay’s not gonna do her goddamn best to knock you up with her strap, well you’ve got another think coming.
tags: f!reader, fem!jason todd, flirting, sapphic sex, fingering, clit pinching, biting, penetrative sex with a strap on, breeding kink, size kink if you squint, soft domme jay todd, squirting, pregnancy mention, cannot emphasize enough that this is woman on woman sex
⊘ this is an 18+ fic. minors do not interact, you will be blocked
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It’s the purr of the motorbike’s engine that signals to you that you’re not walking home alone anymore. Leonine and low, not a hint of a sputter or hiccup speaking to a machine well kept. Hurrying you pick up your pace, trying to get to the bright lights and bustle of the main street. Lazily it keeps pace with you until your stumbling feet carry you to the end of the block and an intersection that lets it pull up right in front of you, cuts off your hope of brighter street lamps and witnesses. A heavy boot puts down the kickstand.
“What’s a pretty little thing like you doin’ all by herself at this time of night,” the rider drawls, Crime Alley accent pouring thick over her voice. Slowly you back away, one careful foot after the other. She cuts you off and advances.
“M’heading home. Now. To my girlfriend,” you get out through a thick tongue. Still you back away and still she advances. The rough brick wall of the alley hits your back and suddenly you realize the trap you’ve walked into.
“Sweet thing like you, your girlfriend should know better than to let you out by yourself after dark,” she chides. Arm bracing against the wall over your head, she leans in until she fills your line of sight. “Why, just about anyone could stop by and snap. You. Up,” she breathes and your legs turn to jelly.
“She’s– she’s mean. She’s big and she’s mean and she fucks people up for a living,” you stutter out. The rider inserts one her thighs between your own, starts trailing rough fingers up the soft thin skin between them, up under the hem of your skirt.
“Yeah baby girl, what else?” she asks, fingers just brushing the fabric of your panties.
“She’s gonna– she’s gonna kill you if you touch me,” you try not to moan. A hand slips down the front of your panties, cups your sex. 
“Bet I’m bigger,” the rider grunts in your ear, spearing you open with one of her fingers as she speaks. You have to clutch at the front of her leather jacket to keep from collapsing immediately at the invasion. “Bet I’m meaner,” she says as she pinches your clit and you yowl like an alley cat. “Bet I’d fuck you better.” There’s two fingers inside you now, fucking you open faster than you’re ready for. The rough brick scrapes against the back of your thighs.
“She’s– she’s gonna–” you try to string together a threat but you can’t think around the fullness of your cunt.
“Yeah baby girl, what’m I gonna do?” she taunts you, grin all predatory and all Jay. 
You moan brokenly as she slides a hand under shirt, pulls your breasts out of your bra and starts playing with your nipples. Her fingers in your cunt start curling in on every thrust. Your mouth parts around a particularly vicious twist, breast stinging and cunt throbbing. She smiles against your throat, teeth bared at the way your clench down around her hand. Presses her thumb against your clit, just the hint of a nail verging on cruel. Bites a new bruise into your skin as you come on her hand, tight walls rippling around her at the pleasure-pain.
“Hiya baby,” Jay whispers as you collapse back against the wall, licks your slick off her hand as she stares you down. “Have a good day at work?”
“The worst,” you groan, hands working to set your clothing to rights, or as much as they can be salvaged anyway.
“Yeah? Well then why don’t you come home with me and let me kiss it better?” she purrs, handing over your helmet.
“Just for the record,” you tell her, already putting the helmet on, “that’s a terrible line. Awful. I can’t believe I’m letting you anywhere near my vagina after that.”
“It worked, didn’t it?” she says mock offended. “Just for that I’m driving over every single bump on the way home.”
Jay Todd is nothing if not two things: vengeful and a woman of her word. She hits every single pothole one the drive home, takes detours and swerves in and out of traffic just to torture you. Glued to her broad back, feeling like there’s a direct line from the vibrations of the engine to your clit, its no wonder you’re a puddle on the back of the bike by the time she pulls up at your apartment complex. She gets off the bike first and laughs when you bunch your hands in your skirt and mumble about needing a minute without looking her in the eyes. Leans in like she’s going to kiss you only to pull back and laugh as you almost face plant chasing after her mouth.
Eventually you do manage to peel yourself off the back of the bike with wobbly legs, leaving a damp spot on the hard seat. Jay lets you lean up against her on the way up to the apartment, thighs rubbing together in anticipation. Walks your right into the bedroom before shucking off her jacket, letting it fall to the floor.
You’re so mesmerized by the sight of her pulling her tank top over her head that you forget to undress yourself, so lost in the scarred expanse of her skin. She catches you staring just as her black sports bra hits the ground, catches your wide eyed desire and oh you’re fucked. Stalks towards you bare chested, grin promising all the fun for her and humiliation for you.
“You wanna touch?” she drawls, idly tracing one hand over the swell of a large breast. Dumb, you nod. Swallow. “Only good girls get to touch and you haven’t been very good, have you?”
“Wha–” you start indignantly but she shushes you.
“Kept me waiting, didn’t even bother trying to get undressed.” She grabs a handful of one breast and then drops it, sighing. “I don’t think you’ve earned the right to touch yet tonight, do you?”
“I can– I can be good,” you say through a cotton mouth. “I can earn it. Please?” 
She sighs, crosses her arms under her breasts as if to shove them higher into your face.
“Well? Get undressed then, and go pick out the strap you want me to fuck you with.”
Stumbling in your hurry to respond to her orders, you fumble with your clothing, determined to get it off off off. A seam rips but you don’t care because suddenly you’re free. Rush over to the chest of drawers and hastily pull out your favourite dildo. It’s big – not the largest of your shared collection but large enough – a deep shining red with a textured head and a flared base that makes you wince to take fully. Already your mouth is salivating at the last time Jay used this one on you, the way your cunt had ached for days afterwards.
Turning back to her, she’s already got her harness on, a few fingers lazily pumping at the curls between her legs. She’s got a bored look on her face as she crooks her finger at you to come but the light in her eyes scream that she’s going to eat you whole. Jay reclines on the bed like royalty as she attaches the strap. You stand next to the bed with fidgety hands that still haven’t been given permission to touch, worry your lip with your teeth. Satisfied, she lays back legs spread hands tucked behind her head on the pillows. The bright red cock stands straight up from her hips, gleaming dully in the low light. Idly you feel slick trickle down your inner thigh.
“C’mon on then, earn it,” she tells you and you’re a tangle of limbs scrabbling on the bed.
Desperate you line your cunt up with the tip of the strap and then push your hips down. Mewl as gravity spears you open on the plastic cock. Jay’s fingers had opened you up a bit but not for something as big as this. You’d been too stupid, too desperate to bother trying to slick it up with lube or the flowing juices from your cunt so you’re taking it dry. You choke as it’s descent slows, progress strangled by your too tight cunt and greedy eyes. You’ve got no way to balance yourself, to pull yourself up off the strap splitting you in half but Jay’s strong torso and she hasn’t given you permission to touch yet. You gasp and shudder, thighs burning and aching as you slowly pull yourself off the cock, allow yourself a few hiccuping breaths of respite, before slamming down again, letting gravity tear you open.
You get a little farther this time, cunt marking your progress with a new, lower ring of wetness around the plastic dick. Throwing your head back you force yourself to relax and push. Bear down in the hopes that it’ll feed that much more into your hungry, reluctant cunt. Jay watches the whole show with a feral grin. Laps up the way your tits bounce with every thrust. Revels in the tiny, tired whines you let out as your legs tire out from balancing the weight of you. Grows ravenous with the way tears have started to dew your lashes in frustration, in desperation. Finally, finally you manage to take the whole strap down to its base, face twisting up into a grimace at the fat bloated stretch of it. Finally she lets herself touch you, a hand coming to rest on your hip. She positively lights up with greed as you lean into her touch.
“There she is, there’s my good girl,” she coos. Your nod turns to a sob as she grinds her hips into you, forces the strap to brush that sensitive place inside you. Bunching her legs beneath her, she pushes you down beneath her, your roles suddenly reversed. “Bet you’d let me do whatever I want to you like this, take whatever I give and say thank you so sweetly.” She punctuates her words with a slow roll of her hips that has you clawing at the mattress and babbling to fast for Jay to catch. “C’mon baby girl, speak up. Gotta ask for what you want.”
“I said, I said Iwantyoutoputababyinme,” you gasp, trying to turn away and hide your face in your arms. Your whole body is on fire with embarrassment.
“You want me to make you a mommy? Is that it?” she croons, delighted and shocked. “Well that’s easy baby, just had to say the words.” She draws back her hips and rams the strap home. “Gonna have to breed this pretty pussy up until she catches. Fill you up with so much cum it’s gonna be dripping out of you for days.”
You moan at the lewd image she paints for you, thighs tightening around her hips as she drills into you.
“Poor thing, been so empty waiting for me to put a baby in you, bet your cunt was aching for it.”
“Please,” you beg, head thrown back and thrashing as Jay mouths at your tit.
“You’re gonna look so pretty carrying my baby,” she tells you, works a hand between you to tap and pinch at your clit in a way that’s got you bucking beneath her. “Your breasts and belly would be so swollen with it, they’d swing from the weight of it when I fuck you.”
Arching your back into her you whimper. She slams your hips back down onto the bed and fucks you brutally with the strap. Your cunt makes wet, sloppy noises around it that are audible even over the fleshy smacks of her hips hitting yours.
“Gonna make you carry as many of my babies as you can, gonna breed your cunt over and over again until you’re full. You’re gonna forget what it feels like to have a womb empty of me,” she growls, pushes a proprietary hand down onto the womb she’s claiming for her use. Finds that perfect spot and then sets to rearrange your guts around her strap as she mouths and bites a pretty collar around your throat. Fucks into you until your eyes are rolling back and all you can see are stars, the slick drag of your cunt and the burning stretch of her cock drowning out everything else as you shake. Something’s building in your tummy, a kind of pleasure-pressure you haven’t felt before. Every time she thrusts into your cunt, whispers dirty words about stretching you out with as many babies as your cunt can take, it builds and builds until you feel stretched thin from the pressure of it all.
The damn breaks and you sob as you squirt through your orgasm. Pleasure running wild, tearing open your veins and reducing you down to a base needy thing only concerned with milking the strap still fucking her. Jay kisses you, slow and filthy as you sob and shake, squirt still running down your legs as you tear through your high. Gently she brushes the sweat soaked hair away from your face, peppers kisses to your eyelids, nose. Grins down at you so lovingly and satisfied.
“There she is, there’s my good baby girl. Gonna be my good little ma too.”
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creamiecoups · 1 day ago
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why do u think about forced breeding with jeonghan???? also so glad that u are back
thank you anon it’s good to be back!!
now forced breeding would go crazy with jeonghan… i tried to keep it short because when i have a thought in my mind it runs and this would end up being a whole fic but i hope you enjoy it :)
WARNINGS: smut, established relationship, dark themes, forced breeding, creampie, dacryphilia, lmk if I missed anything
Something about the way you squirm and cry under him while begging him to pull out would satiate him beyond compare, it’s about possession, knowing you’d completely be his and no one could even bat an eyelash your way.
well, he just needs to do one more thing for you to forever be tied down to him.
“You’re doing so well for me, my angel.”
He’d pur in your ear, his voice dripping with honey while his thrusts would be rough and almost animalistic.
“J-Jeong…..Han….p-please,” you hiccup, carefully manicured nails now grazing and clawing at his chest for him to get off you but to no avail.
And deep down you knew he was persistent like that, he would stop at nothing to get what he wants, yet you still tried.
and he found that so fucking cute, it only made him want to be rougher, chase that high faster so he could finally spill his load into you, after months of used that stupid latex because you were too scared.
“Shhh sweetheart, I’m so close, it’s only fair I cum after I’ve made my princess cum so many times right?” He cooes again, peppering soft kisses across your sweaty hairline as a sob leaves your lips.
“Just pull out please, please im begging you hannie,” you cry out, clenching down on him harder than ever.
Jeonghan groans apon hearing his nickname fall so cutely from your lips, your pussy squelching so absurdly loud he thought the room was spinning, all he could think about was you and how he couldn’t wait to come home after a long day in a couple of months, to you and your child, you would be such a good mother, no matter if you were too young and not ready.
you definitely wanted this, you just didn’t know it yet, he knew your sadness would eventually wilt away, after all, a child is a blessing right?
He thought wrong. Although you guys had now been dating for a few months and were in love, recently Jeonghan’s possessiveness and antics had started to make you double think your whole relationship.
And tonight he finally snapped.
Seeing you casually talking to a friend from your department shouldn’t have bothered him as much as it did, it was harmless. but the minute that poor unsuspecting boy brushed your hair back behind your shoulder, he knew he had to do something. All carnal thoughts taking over. It was nothing, but he just needed a catalyst to finally do what he had been wanting to do since he first laid his eyes on you.
“I’m not pulling out my angel, you’re going to take me well like you always do, alright? You can do it baby,” he whispered into your ear, causing your eyes to widen slightly in fear.
Tears began spilling from your eyes as you thrashed around screaming at him to at least pull out, yet it only helped push him over the edge easier, the sight of you crying and weeping making him crumble easier than he thought possible.
Not long after he was spilling deep into your womb, pumping into you lazily as his tongue darted out to collect the salty tears staining your cheeks.
“My pretty angel, you’d look so much prettier with your tummy full…..full of what our love has created,” he purred, one strong hand leaving your bruised hip to tangle in your hair, before pushing your head down to look at your stomach, where you could clearly see the outline of his cock poking out.
The heavy shudder you let out only fueled his ego more, he knew you were always going to be his…he just liked reminders.
“W-What have you done—”
“Shhh… I’m not done with you baby, you’re gonna take as much as i give you…. I’m not stopping until you’re leaking my cum from this pretty pussy of yours for days.”
You were never going to be able to leave him now.
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lucedilunax · 1 day ago
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Take it out on me - N. Hischier
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pairing: Nico Hischier x girlfriend!reader
summary: Nico's girlfriend have an idea how to help him after tough lost
warning: NSFW, graphic sex (18+), mentions of ex boyfriend, softdom!nico, spit, oral (m receiving), hair pulling, cum play, dacryphilia, spanking, unprotected sex, rough sex, choking, swearing
words: 2.4k
note: october comes to an end and i wanted to create at least one fic for kinktober! enjoy it💕
masterlist
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Nico and Amelia met up two years ago. Since then, they were inseparable. Soon after, they became a couple. Nico was proudly showing Amelia on his games and always wanted her presence there. He truly believed that she is his soulmate. Amelia was grateful to have him. Her previous relationship has been a mess. Her ex-boyfriend was forcing her to things that she didn’t like and if she ever said no, he would punish her. With Nico, it felt different. He was caring, loving and respectful. She started to believe in love again.
One of the things Amelia adored in Nico was fact that he never pushed her to do things. He was always telling her that relationship works in both ways, and she doesn’t have to do something just to pleased him. Nico felt the need to always reassure her. He knew about her past boyfriend, and he wanted to prove her that she’s as important as he is in their relationship.
Although, there was a thing that Nico wished, Amelia could agree on. That was rough sex. He wanted to be in power over her, but he knew how fragile she is. Just for his pleasure, he didn’t want to ruin what they have. He was scared that he will do one bad move and he’s gonna hurt her. That was the last thing he wanted. Nico still loved their sex life, but he wanted more. During one of their talks, he told her truthfully about it but also told her not to pressure herself to do it for him.
The season started great for New Jersey Devils with both wins in Prague against Buffalo. Next five matches were good with only two lost games. Nico felt that he’s in a best shape that he has ever been, and it showed, but there was one game that completely broke him. His team played at home against Washington. After first period, they’ve been losing 1:3 but Nico gave them hope. Second period started and he scored two goals in 10 seconds. Thanks to him, scoreboard showed 3:3 but again, before the end, New Jersey was losing by two goals.
Last period, the most crucial one. Nico scored another point, and it was 4:5. Almost ten minutes later, Hamilton scored, and the scoreboard showed 5:5. They got into overtime which sadly they lost. Nico was blaming himself for the goal. Even though he played incredibly, he was sad and fuming over the result. Amelia was on this game, she saw how Nico was reacting. Even if he weren’t showing it, she could read him like a book. In that moment, she had an idea how to help him with his anger.
The car drive was silent. Amelia tried to approach Nico with conversation, but he hasn’t spoken to her. It was more like a monologue from her side. When she realized it’s pointless, she decided to keep her mouth shut. All the ride back home, Nico had hand on her thigh squeezing it. The fact that she was next to him, and he could touch her calmed him down.
When they arrived home, Nico wanted to go straight to bed but Amelia stopped him.
“I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I think I have a solution for your anger”.
“I’m not angry”. He answered.
“Baby, I know you. You won’t hide it from me”. She grabbed his hand.
“Okay, fine. What’s the solution?” He asked curious.
“Take it out on me”.
“Absolutely no”.
“Nico, I get it that you are scared but I trust you”. She put her hands behind his neck and continued. “It’s something that you would like, and you’ve been always saying that relationship works both ways. I want to be there for you to help you”.
“What if I hurt you? I would never forgive myself that”. He said and grabbed her waist.
“Let’s make a safe word. If you do something that I won’t be enjoying or will cause me a pain, I’ll say it”. Amelia stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. Nico kissed her back.
“You say that I can take my anger out on you? So, I can do whatever I want and however I want?” She nodded her head, but he spoke again. “Words doll. If you want this to work, I need to hear it to be 100% sure”.
“Yes Nico, you can do whatever and however you want”.
“What word did you pick as a safe word?” He asked.
“Red or stop are boring. I was thinking about something random like watermelon”.
“Your safe word is watermelon?” He laughed.
“In my defense, watermelon is not the word that you are associate with sex so if you hear it from me, then you’ll be know that something is wrong”.
“Fair, so watermelon it is”. He kissed her again but this time, it was possessive kiss.
When they pulled apart from each other, Nico put his thumb on her bottom lip and told her to open her mouth. Amelia obeyed him and he spit into her mouth. He saw the spark in her eyes when he done it. She gladly accepted it and swallowed.
“Go to the bedroom. I want you naked there sitting pretty on the bed. I’ll give you a moment to rethink if you really want this”. She hasn’t answered him. She turned her back and started going to the bedroom when he slapped her ass.
Couple minutes later, Nico walked to their shared bedroom. Amelia was sitting on the bed as he told her, but he saw that she’s thinking over something. He placed finger under her chin so she could face him.
“About what you are thinking?”
“I’m scared”. She said.
“Doll, we don’t have to do it. I told you. We can…” Before he could finish, he interrupted him.
“I’m not scared about this. I’m scared that I’ll disappoint you. What if I say safe word in the middle? That’s gonna be super awkward”.
“We made the safe word for this exact purpose. You could never disappoint me doll. Are you sure you want to do it?”
“Yes”. She said confidently.
“On your knees”. She listened to him and kneeled in front of him. He undressed himself so both were naked now, then he spoke again. “If you feel that’s too much for you, hit my thigh three times, understood?” She nodded her again. “What I told you about words?”
“Yes Nico, I understood.”
“Good girl, now spit on my cock and use your hand to spread it. Don’t use your mouth yet”.
Amelia did what he told her. She spat on his dick and started to use her hand over his length until he stopped her. Nico grabbed her hair and pulled them, so she was facing him.
“Open your mouth and relax your throat. Remember about the thigh”. She opened her mouth, and he couldn’t help himself and spit into her mouth again. She closed her mouth to swallow and opened again. Nico pushed his dick into her mouth. At first, he was gentle in his moves but with time he set rough pace. He was pushing himself deeper into her throat and kept her in place by pulling her hair. He was ruthless towards her.
Amelia loved every minute of the way Nico was abusing her throat. He never been so rough with her, but she enjoyed it. When he was hitting her throat deeper with the tip of his cock, tears were falling from her eyes. She was gagging over his length and grabbed his thighs to steady herself. Amelia could feel how wet she got from this act and placed her right hand on her cunt to touch herself. Nico saw it.
“Take your hand from your greedy pussy. I’ll take care of you”. He said firmly and she decided to listen to him.
Nico could swear that he never saw something hotter than Amelia on her knees taking him so well. He was close to release, and he didn’t want to stop. It felt too good for him. He cum inside her mouth and she swallowed it. She looked at him. Her makeup was ruined. Mascara with tears was falling on her cheeks. He helped her stand up and kissed her deeply.
“You want to continue?” Even though Nico knew the answer, he preferred to ask for her permission.
“Yes, please”.
“On the bed. Face down, ass up”. Amelia has positioned like he wanted.
While she was waiting for him to do something, Nico was admiring her in this position. He loved seeing her so submissive for him. After couple of seconds, he spanked her.
“That’s for touching something that’s not yours”. He growled into her ear. “Am I not enough that you had to do it?”
“No Nico, you are more than enough”. She moaned when another slap hit her ass.
“Good fucking girl. Now take your punishment like one”. He said and spanked her couple more times. After Nico was done with her, he leaned over and his chest hit her back. “You will cum twice today. I’m not gonna stop until you use your word. Understood?”
“Yes Nico. Please, just fuck me already”. Amelia was desperate for his touch.
“Your wish is my command”.
Nico started teasing her entry with the tip of his cock. Before she could react, he put all his length inside of her. He gave her couple seconds so she could adjust to his big dick. When he felt like she’s ready, he started pounding roughly into her. He grabbed her hips to keep her steady while he was merciless for her pussy.
Amelia felt incredible. She felt so full and at his mercy. Even though Nico was rough with her, she could feel his affection during the act. She started moan his name loudly. He grabbed her by her hair and pulled her to his body. Her back hit his chest. While one hand was still in her hair, Nico used the second one to play with her nipples. He was twisting and pulling them.
“Nico, I’m gonna cum”. She moaned.
He took off his hand from her tits and placed it on her clit. He started rubbing circles on her pussy. She was shaking from this stimulation. Her orgasm hit her hard. She screamed his name so loudly that she was sure neighbours could hear her. Nico haven’t stopped, he fucked her through her orgasm.
Nico manhandled her so she could lay on her back. He looked at her dizzy state.
“You sure you can continue?” He asked concerned.
“Yes”. She whispered like it was a secret.
“Spread your legs for me”.
Amelia did it but Nico pushed her legs, so her knees were laying on the bed. He looked on her drippy cunt and traded his fingers over it. When she moaned, he spanked her pussy. She closed her legs, but Nico told her to open them again. She obeyed him and he positioned himself in her entrance.
Again, he pushed all his length into her but this time, he didn’t get her time to adjust. He grabbed her by her thighs started fucking her. She arched her back from the pleasure. He leaned over to kiss her. It was sloppy kiss. Amelia moaned into his mouth when he pulled away. She was getting so loud. Nico put his hand on her throat. He squeezed his fingers on the sides of her throat.
She felt overwhelmed by all the stimulation, but she didn’t wanted to stop. It felt so good for her. While one of Nico’s hands was still on her throat, the other one started playing with her boobs. He could feel that she’s close to her release and started fucking her harder and faster. When he knew, she’s seconds from her orgasm, he pulled hand from her throat and placed on her other boob.
“Nico, fuck, I’m gonna cum”.
“I know doll. Cum for me”. Her second climax hit her. She screamed his name and soon after, he released inside of her.
Nico fell on her chest, and they laid like that for couple of minutes. When he recovered, he pulled out of her and went to the bathroom to run a bath for her. He put all her fancy salts and essential oils into the bath. When he returned to the bedroom, he could see her all fucked. Amelia turned her head to look at him.
“Hey, how are you feel?”
“Amazing, thank you Nico. That was the most mind-blowing sex I ever had”. He laughed at her words.
“Can you stand up or do you want me to carry you?”
“Carry me please”. She pulled her arms towards him. He leaned down and she placed her arms around his neck. Nico grabbed her under her knees and carried into the bathroom. He put her in a bathtub.
“Stay here. I’ll be back in a minute”. Nico left the bathroom and went to the kitchen. He grabbed a bottle of water and snacks. He returned and handed it to her. “Eat it, you need it. Also, drink the water, you might feel dehydrated”. He said firmly.
Amelia drank the water while still laying in the bath. She opened a bag of chips and started eating them, handing them to Nico who was sitting next to the bathtub. He helped her wash herself. After an hour, he took the towel and he dry her off. Again, he carried her to the bedroom, placed her on bed and tucked her under the covers.
“I’m going to take a shower, go to sleep”. He leaned down and kissed her forehead.
Nico left her and went to clean himself. He felt bad for leaving her, but he knew he must do it. Amelia couldn’t sleep. She was laying in the bed and waited for him to return. Ten minutes later, he was back. He saw that she’s still awake.
“I told you to sleep doll”. Nico said lying next to her. He pulled her into his arms, so her head was resting on his chest. After couple minutes of silence, he spoke again.
“Thank you so much for doing this for me. I really appreciate it and I hope I wasn’t too rough on you”. He kissed her head.
“It was amazing Nico. You’ve been incredible. You haven’t been too rough. I told you that I trust you”. She snuggled into his chest even more. “If you ever feel anger again, just know that I’m right here to help”. He pulled her on his body, and they’ve been lying now chest to chest.
“You are gonna be a death to me woman. I love you doll”. He kissed her.
“I love you too Nico. Now let’s sleep, you have a practice tomorrow and deserve a good rest”. She said and both of them fall asleep.
---
Thank you for reading!🤍
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vxxxxed · 3 days ago
Note
I'd love to talk about Butcher!Simon. >u<
He's my favorite fucked up special boy. I like to think he has a set of Damascus knives that he keeps perfectly sharp.
Maybe he sees the reader coming in, buying the cheap stuff, barely talking to the cashier, scared when the package bleeds at the edges. He watches for them again, sending the cashier on break so he could talk to them finally.
Maybe they hand him a crumpled wad of bills. He notices the bruises on their arms. So what if the cut of meat he gives them is worth more than they paid? Can't have his shy birdie going hungry.
Maybe they come home one day to him sitting on their couch. Their abusive partner is gone. The tub is a little pink, but that's okay.
Maybe he reassures them through their tears that he's nothing like the meat he cuts up.
[TWs for idek how to tag this, brief implied cannibalism and kinda mentions of how you'd butcher your lover to eat them but it ends there and none of that actually happens and no one's intending for it to you're just talking about it?]
I was gonna say I don't have anything to add to this but if I may go off on a tangent (excerpt from a fic I'm working on), Ghost who is in the 141, left his old life behind (not like he had a choice when it was all taken from him anyway), but he retained all the stuff he learned when he was younger. You see a couple YouTube shorts from hunters explaining how to cut up their kills, and get interested about the process. And maybe that turns into some sort of weird form of intimacy between the two of you. (Alternative working title: Autism be Damned, That Boy Can Meat)
..."Bloody 'ell, watch the pet names there, luv. I might start thinkin' you fancy me or somethin'," he teased, his voice a low rumble that was honestly weirdly satisfying to listen to now that your cheek was pressed to his sternum. "If you wanna learn about cuts a' meat, might as well 'ave a quick lesson. You got a pen and paper there?" He asked dryly, his own form of humour as he rubbed circles against the back of your neck with his thumb.
"Start with the basics, yeah? Prime cuts are gonna be the tenderest, 'cause they come from the least-worked muscles. Ribeye, sirloin, that sorta thing. Gotta keep 'em cold to preserve the fat, though. You let that melt, and you lose flavour."
As he spoke, Simon's hands moved almost unconsciously, mimicking the motions of breaking down a side of beef. His slightly chilly fingers traced invisible lines across your back, mapping out different sections, trying to remember. "Then you got your secondary cuts - brisket, short ribs, that sorta thing. Tougher, but full o' flavour if you cook 'em right. Need time and low heat to break down all that connective tissue."
He hesitated, eyebrows furrowing slightly as he tried to remember more specifics. "Ah, you got your off-cuts too. Offal, bones, all'at. Nothin' goes to waste in a proper butcher shop. Even got some fancy restaurants that'll pay good money for that stuff nowadays." Another pause, "Well, used to, anyway."
---
"Trying to figure out how you'd butcher me, Simon?" You'd giggled at the feeling of his fingertips tracing your ribs, but there was nothing but trust and love in your eyes.
Like his own perfect little lamb.
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darksigns-exe · 9 hours ago
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whatever a sun will always sing is you - noah sebastian x f!reader
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warnings: none
word count: 2.1k
note: birthday fic for our birthday boy <3 title comes from the poem i carry your heart with me by e.e. cummings
masterlist | taglist sign-up
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Noah’s relationship with birthdays is tricky. 
Not just because he doesn’t like big celebrations, he’s also impossible to gift to. Instead of agonising over which art book you’d give him this year, you’ve decided to do something different. While he has scaled down his work schedule quite a bit, you can still tell that he’s so very restless. 
You watch him pace around your living room, while he talks to god knows who on the phone. 
You know that forcing Noah to slow down doesn’t work, you’d tried that and in the end all it had brought you was an argument so bad that you thought that you’d ruined it all. Instead, you’ll bribe him into a slow day. 
Over the weeks leading up to his birthday you’d gathered all sorts of things including bath bombs, facemasks and a brand-new sweater for Noah that you had discovered while you were out shopping. It felt so nice and soft that you simply couldn’t leave it in the store.
When the day finally rolls around, you get up before he does. As a first order of business, you turn off his alarm, before getting a few more things into order. You slip back into bed with him, fitting yourself against his side again. Noah is deep enough of a sleeper for him to remain entirely oblivious. You allow yourself to doze off for a little while longer. 
Eventually, Noah stirs next to you. He shifts and moves, stretches like he always does before he lets out a yawn that almost deafens you. You’d previously joked that he was already making dad noises, when you’re nowhere near that step in your relationship. 
You sit up next to him, trailing your fingers across his skin.
He blinks up at you, still looking rather sleepy. His lips turn up in a soft smile. 
You lean down to kiss him. Noah’s hand curls around the back of your neck, keeping you close to him. You stay close to him when you part. 
“Happy birthday, baby.” 
For a second you think that he’ll roll his eyes as he does so often. Instead, he gives you that pretty smile of his. 
“Thank you, my love.” 
He pulls you down for another kiss. 
“You have the day off today.” You inform him, “And that’s not a suggestion.” 
“Yes, Ma’am.” he lifts his hand to his forehead in a mock salute. 
“Good.” you press another quick kiss to the corner of his mouth, “Two options. We can go out for breakfast or we stay in.” 
He thinks for a moment, “What’s the out option?” 
“I found a cute place in Santa Monica. I’ve booked us a table, but I can always cancel it.” 
You show him the menu and Noah scrolls through the page for a moment. 
“Does sound really nice.” he still sounds as if he’s trying to make up his mind. 
“We still have a bit of time.” you reply, settling back down next to him, “Just in case it helps you decide, I have made a loose reservation for dinner.” 
You end up having breakfast at home. Noah hovers behind you the entire time – or at least until you banish him to the counter. But even then he keeps finding reasons for you to come over to him. 
After breakfast, you find yourself on your knees for him. It’s as much for you as it is for him. You take your time with him, savouring the different sensation that come with this. You try your best to replicate the devotion Noah showers you with when he’s between your thighs. And judging from the sighs he lets out, you’re doing a pretty good job. You’re pulled up into his arms afterwards. 
For a while you rest like this, curled together, just enjoying the others' presence. Conversation is light, but comfortable. 
It’s nice to just have a day to yourself with him. 
Your fingers trace across the bare skin of his chest. Noah lets out a breathy laugh when your fingers brush against his side. You let yourself soak in his presence for a little while longer, before you decide that it’s time for the next step of your plan. 
You sit up enough for you to be able to look at him. Noah’s hand remains on your side, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt. 
“Thought we could have a little self-care day. You always say that you want to join in when I do this, so I planned a little day for you.” 
His eyes soften then, “I don’t know what to say.” 
“You’re good. I’m more than happy to do this.” you place your hand against the side of his face, tracing your thumb across his skin, “Have to treat my boy right, don’t I?”
You swear that his cheeks turn a little pink then. 
“You work so hard, and I just want you to know how proud I am of you. You rarely ever let me do things for you, so I’m forcing you.” you say with a smile that he reciprocates so easily. 
“I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you – or this.” 
You know that, by now, he’s saying it in jest. 
“You just do. Accept it. You’re not getting rid of me, and that means that you’ll have to live with me doing nice things for you.” 
Noah lets out a dramatic sigh, “Horrible fate. I don’t know if I can do that.” You lean in to kiss him again, “You’re so brave.” another kiss, “I’m gonna pop upstairs for a moment, okay? I’ll come and get you.” 
Noah’s hand remains on your body for as long as possible. He looks after you with a soft smile playing on his lips, and it makes your heart beat a little bit faster. 
You try to be quick with your preparations. You’ve already placed towels in the dryer and made sure that you have everything you need tucked away in a cupboard. To create a real spa experience you’ve loaded the diffuser with eucalyptus oil. The speaker you’ve placed on the counter fills the room with soft music and with the mostly dimmed light your bathroom feels rather cosy. Once you’ve started to fill the tub with water, you head back to where Noah is waiting for you. 
He’s typing away at his phone, smiling to himself when you enter the living room. He looks up when you sit down next to him. 
“Nick texted.” he announces, before turning his phone towards you. 
The happy birthday text is accompanied by a photo of Nick’s cats. The little party hat he put on Jerry doesn’t incite too much excitement in the cat, but it does look rather adorable. 
“That’s cute. Tell him I said hi.” you drop your head against his shoulder, “You wanna come upstairs with me?”
Noah leaves his phone on the coffee table when he gets up to follow you. His hand finds yours before you reach the stairs. You love how affectionate he is when it’s just the two of you. He’s slowly thawing, allowing himself to be affectionate with you when you’re around other people. He’ll reach for your hand when his chest starts to feel too tight, finding comfort in the way you squeeze his hand. 
You lead him into the now steam filled bathroom. 
Between all of the things you’ve just added and the plants that already were in your bathroom, it’s feeling rather comfy. 
Noah wraps his arms around your middle, pressing his chest against your back. He presses a kiss to your shoulder. 
“I don’t know when I have taken a bath for the last time.” he says quietly. 
“I know.” you drop your head against his chest, “I got a bunch of bath bombs too. Bath salts, whatever you want. Bubbles.” 
You’ve arranged the various products in a little woven basket. Noah inspects it so carefully, picking up different things to smell them. You think that he almost looks a little timid, unsure what to do with the array of things in front of him. He eventually settles on the cloth wrapped bath oil you’d already loved in the store. 
“How does this work? Do I just drop it in?” he asks still sounding a little hesitant. 
It takes him a long moment to really relax when you’re finally in the tub. After a little bit of re-arranging you had managed to convince him to sit in front of you. Eventually, he allows himself to rest against your properly. His head drops back against your shoulder, while you run your fingers through his damp hair. Your other hand rests, entangled with his, on his belly. You tell him about some insignificant gossip from your friend group, about the call you had with your cousin a few days ago and their new puppy. Noah’s laugh rumbles through your body when you tell him about the puppy chewing up the shoes of your cousins partner. A partner neither of you really like. 
When the water starts to cool too much, you ask him to get his hair wet. Noah gives you a perplexed look in response. 
“It’s a bit easier to wash hair when it’s wet, no?” 
He’s a little reluctant to actually let you do it. The only other time he’d let you take care of him like this, he’d been sick as a dog. To make things easier for yourself, you’d climbed out of the tub and sat on the edge of it, wrapped up in your robe. The somewhat stiff posture of his back has eased up a little, and you think that he actually enjoys the affection you shower him with. You gently tilt his head back a little, allowing you to swipe a drop of suds away from his forehead. Noah blinks up at you with a soft smile playing on his lips. You lean down, pressing a kiss to his forehead. 
“Almost done.” you announce, “Just have to rinse this.”
You usher him into your shared bedroom a while later. When you’d gone to fetch the warmed towels from the dryer, you’d placed the new sweater you bought for him on the bed. 
Noah doesn’t even notice it at first. 
Only when the wrapping paper crinkles under his back, does he sit up again to investigate. 
“What’s that?” 
“Present. For the birthday boy.” You crowd into the space in front of him, coming to stand between his thighs, “Go on. Open it.”
“You already did so much.”
“Noah, we had a bath, and you let me put moisturiser on your face, that’s not a lot.” you say, placing your hands on his shoulders. 
He carefully picks at the tape keeping the paper together. You’ve never seen him tear into wrapping paper, and it always seems as if he’s savouring the moment of unwrapping it as much as he does the present itself. 
“I saw it in a store while I was out getting stuff for today and it just looked so comfy.” you explain while he unfolds the sweater. 
It’s a nice deep blue, but the selling point had been the soft fabric. Sure the price tag had made almost made you reconsider, but your boy deserves only the best. 
He examines it with an adorably focused face. 
“Thank you, my love. I love it.” 
You bring a hand to the side of his face, allowing you to gentle steer him closer to you. You meet him in a soft kiss. Noah lingers with you for a bit longer, letting both of you bathe in this moment. 
When he eventually lets himself drop back onto the bed, you follow, fitting yourself against him so comfortably. You have one thigh draped across his and an arm thrown across his chest. His skin is so warm and soft beneath your palm, and you can’t stop yourself from kissing every inch of him that is within reach. 
Noah lets out a sigh, “Thank you for all of this.”
“Of course.” you place another kiss against his chest, “Doesn’t have to stay a special occasion thing, you know? You’re more than welcome to join in.” 
“Maybe I will.” he hums out in response, “Felt kinda nice to be taken care of like that.” 
“Good because you deserve it.” You shift until you can look at him, “This and so much more.” 
You swear that there’s a little bit of damp gathering in his eyes, but he quickly blinks it away again. 
“I love you so much.” he says eventually, bringing you somehow even closer to him. 
“And I love you.” 
Hours later, you decide to skip out on the dinner reservation. You still have store-brought pizza dough in the fridge and every thing else you need to make dinner at home. And if you’re honest with yourself, you’d much rather spend the rest of the day tangled up with him in your own home than anywhere else. And the content smile on Noah’s face more than enough proof for you. 
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taglist: @deathblacksmoke @circle-with-me @sitkowski @ladyveronikawrites @baddestomens
@malice-ov-mercy @chels3a-smile @ferduttini @somebodyels3 @itsafullmoon
@shilohrosechicken @poisongirl616 @mysticdoodlez @agravemisstake @th4t-em0-k1d
@thisbicc @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @mrsnoahsebastian @blackveilomens @sorrowsofsilence
@fadingangelwisp @lma1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @thisisntablogspost @tintadecirco
@rumoured-whispers@cheyyyyr@mathfairchild1 @follow-me-down-to-wonderland
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starboye · 4 hours ago
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Kinktober Day 31
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starring: james mcavoy x male reader
request: James mcavoy fic where James is reader’s dad best friend and he is coming over to stay for the summer reader and James don’t really get along at first. But one night James comes out the shower while reader is still awake and James ends up fucking him and eating him out hard and has him worship James body through scent and kissing etc
warnings: smut, cursing, slightly rough sex, cumming untouched, pervy james, sweat kink, unprotected sex, creampie, ass eating, cum eating, slight muscle worship
directors note: HAPPY HALLOWEEN i hope you get a lot of candy or pass out a lot of candy and you better watch some scary movies tonight 🎃👻🍬🦇💀🧡
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it's not that you hated james, it's just that he really just wasn't your kind of guy, when he came around he would always get you in a head look and mess up your hair or just 'jokingly' bully you and your dad never said anything to him about it, he just told you that's how james plays.
now he had to stay at your house for the whole summer after something happend with his house, i think it was something about he has renovations going on at his house, him staying in the guest room wasn't any better seeing as it was right next to your room and the walls were pretty thin so you would have to be extra quiet sometimes.
but god you had to admit when he was here he was so sexy, especially when he offered to mow the lawn and he was outside shirtless pushing the mower, sweat dripping down his muscles and abs looking like a greek god, when he came back inside you tried your hardest to hide the boner in your pants but it was kinda hard (pun intended) since it was painfully up right.
you thought james didn't see it until later that night when you thought everyone else in the house was asleep and came out of your room, accidentally bumping into a james who just got out of the shower, his arm subconsciously finding your waist out of pure instinct "oh shit sorry" you go to push off him but your hands couldn't move, to stuck feeling his chest and pecs.
seeing your infatuation with his body he picks you up by your thighs and take you back to your room "your dad's sleep right" he smirks above you pulling at the hem of your shorts "mhm" you nod and he takes the rest of your clothes off along with his towel revealing his girthy cock to you, whimpering at the sight of it making him even more eager to fuck you.
your legs instantly wrap around his waist "you want this cock bad huh" he chuckles and you nod up at him, his shoves his fingers into your mouth, wiping all around it before pulling the soaking things back out and bringing them to your hole, shoving one in then two then three and working them in and out of your to open you up nice and well for him before pulling them back out.
he looks down at you as he pushes his full length into you, your eyes widening in shock at the thickness of his dick, you were pretty shocked to think you were fucking your dads bestfriend but if it meant getting fuked by such a good cock you could give less than two fucks about it being wrong.
his hips start to snap into your ass, his tip hitting your gummy wall again and again, it was a little painful but it felt so good to stop, all you could do was let out little moan, small enough to be heard but not loud enough for your dad to hear and come see what the ruckus was "i saw that boner in your pants earlier today, such a pervy little guy" he taunts you as if he wasn't in his bestfriends sons ass right now.
"shut up please and just fuck me" you whine tightening you grip on his arms as he went harder into you "mmm fuck im cumming" you moan spurting your load all over your chest, head dropping back into the pillow a little dazed as james kept going "cumming without even jerking off? how much more of a perv could you be" he smiles and leans down to kiss you, his tongue maneuvering into your mouth and exploring it, his slightly sweaty scent was filling the room faster and faster with the mix of heat between you two.
your legs starting to go weak around his waist but still strong enough to keep him in you as he came, cum shooting up your ass as he bit back loud groans, pulling out of your messy hole he immediately went down to your ass and licked at it "push it out" he demands and you do so, pushing the load out your hole which he catches on his tongue and slurps up.
beginning to eat you out to get the rest of it, cleaning you up a little more around the hole before standing up "i take it this is gonna be a regular thing" you asks catching your breath "come to my room when your dad falls asleep and it will be" he responds putting the towel back on and walking out.
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taglist:@mailmango @spermeboy @ghostking4m @gayaristocrat @addictedtomalepits @staarb0y @crispysoup318 @its-ares @gargoylesworld09 @kadenvatsune @fuckshft @wompwomp-1mh3re
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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 13 hours ago
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When We Begin Again
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Warnings:this fic will include dark content such as blood and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You find the man of the dreams, but your life slowly distorts into a nightmare. 
Characters: Steve Rogers
Note: And so we come to the end of Halloweek 2024. Thanks for those who read.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me❤️
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)
I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖
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You hear the murmur from across the office but don’t look up. You're too enraptured by the cells of the spreadsheet, trying to figure out what won’t balance. There’s something missing. Something obvious and you just can’t see it. 
Your eyes narrow, nearly turning inward to your nose, and your name yanks you out of your Excel-induced trance. You sit up sharply, nearly sending yourself and your rolling chair to the ground. You grasp the arm rests and snap the seat straight on the axle. 
“My, my, looks like someone special’s thinking of you,” Louise plunks down the crystal vase of flowers on your desk, nearly demolishing your mouse at the same time. “Roses. Red? Three dozen, looks like.” 
The office clears and you glance around slowly as the fog dissipates. You have an audience. You’re not used to being the center of attention. Not until recently. 
You know who the flowers are from but it’s still a surprise. A pleasant one, yet a bit awkward. You take the card from the long plastic stem and read the message inside. It’s signed S. Rogers. 
“So, you’ve got a new man?” Louise prompts, still hovering by your desk. 
“Ooh, do tell,” Sella rolls over in her chair. 
“Please, we’re just getting to know each other,” you put the card in your pocket. 
“Just getting to know each other,” Sella guffaws as several other women turn to eavesdrop. “Seems like he wants to know a lot about you.” 
“Really. We only had one date.” 
“One date?” Louise exclaims. “Well, you must’ve put out if he’s sending roses.” 
“Lou,” Sella warns. 
Louise gives a naughty look, “pardon. I’ll file the HR report myself.” She cackles and a few others join in. You’re burning hot in embarrassment. 
“It’s new. I don’t want to get my hopes up,” you stand and grab the vase. “These are too big and pretty for my desk. I’ll put them in the break room.” 
“Is he handsome?” Louise goads. 
“Oh, I hope he is,” Sella chirps. “To be young and fun again, ah.” 
You carry the vase away, an odd clink against the glass with your steps. You keep your head down, overly aware of the eyes watching you. You enter the shared kitchen and put the flowers on one of the empty tables. Something dangles against the back of your hand. 
You turn your palm to catch the small locket before it can slide free. You don’t know how you didn’t notice before. A rose is engraved into the gold and the chain is a length of delicate links. You can tell it’s genuine gold. Oh my. 
You quickly wrap it up and slip it into your pocket with the card. You hurry back to your desk and sit. You try to focus on the spreadsheet but your vision is blurry with self-consciousness. A soft buzz draws you from your deconstruction. 
You swipe up your phone. It’s Steve. You can’t leave him hanging. Not after all that. 
You get up, keeping your cell up your sleeve as you march into the hall and to the restroom. You lock yourself in and answer. 
“Hello?” Your voice is wispy. 
“Hey, honey, did you get it?” Steve asks. 
Honey? He’s too good to be true. One date and it’s like it’s been one year. 
“The flowers, yeah.” 
“What about the necklace?” He asks. 
“Oh, yes, that too. Um, all the other ladies at the office love the roses.” 
“But what about you?” 
“Yeah, they’re pretty,” you assure him. 
“Are you wearing the necklace?” He asks. 
“I hadn’t had a chance--” 
“Put it on,” he says abruptly then clears his throat. “I mean, you should wear it. Send me a picture.” 
“Right, yeah. Totally. Sorry. I just started work and... oh Steve what a lovely surprise that was,” you chime. “I’m kinda in shock. It’s so sweet of you.” 
“You’re easy to be sweet to,” he purrs. “Did you have a good night?” 
“I did. Dinner was great.” 
“And... after?” 
Your cheeks are blazing. Your lips press together as you think of the kiss. So soft and tender. 
“I liked it,” you babble. 
He chuckles, “me too. So, we’ll have to set a date for the second.” 
“Of course.” You agree as you cradle your hot cheek. 
“I don’t want to keep you from your work, as much as I do want to,” he says. “Oh, don’t forget the necklace.” 
“Yeah, I’ll put it on now,” you promise. “I should go.” 
“Alright,” he says reluctantly. “See ya, honey.” 
You hang up and put the phone on the edge of the sink. You fish the necklace out of your pocket and untangle the chain. You admire the little rose before you stretch it around your neck and clasp it into place. It hangs perfectly around your throat, right at the hollow of your collar bone. 
You marvel at it, stroking the edges, and feel a tingle on your chest. It’s beautiful. 
“Isn’t it gorgeous?” A lilted voice drifts through your ears. 
You flinch, startled. You look around the empty bathroom. You frown. Who was that? 
You check your phone. It’s locked. Then you go to each stall and peer inside. No one. 
It... must’ve been in your head. Yet it was so clear. Like someone was speaking right next to you. Even as if the voice were inside your mind. Well, that’s it, isn’t it? You’re imagining things. 
You turn back to the mirror and raise your phone as you open up the camera. You should send that picture before you forget. You snap the shot and check it. 
Oh. Doubt needles at you once more. Just like yesterday before your date. That disbelief you can’t shake. Steve is too good for you. You’re the mousy woman who can’t help but trip over her own toes and rambles about old BBC period pieces. He’s tall and blond and handsome. 
Yet he likes you. He has to. He would give you such pretty things if he didn’t. 
🥀
“One month already,” Steve sweeps in with a glass in each hand. 
“Oh gosh, that’s not--” 
“Champagne,” he declares. 
“Really?” You squeal. 
“Nothing’s too special for you, honey,” he nears and hands you a glass. You take it and keep it over the edge of the couch, afraid to spill even a drop on his pristine white cushions. “I just love to spoil you.” 
“You do,” you agree. “It makes me feel a little... lacking. I wish I could give you more.” 
“You’re more than enough,” he assures you as he sits down next to you. “Cheers.” 
“Cheers,” you echo and clink his glass. 
You tip the glass to your lips and a weight shifts in the crystal. You hum in surprise and trickle a drop over the corner of your mouth. You dap it away as you examine the golden champagne. Tiny bubbles flow up from around the band sunk to the bottom. You gasp. 
“Steve,” you nearly choke on the dregs. “What--” 
He slides off the couch and sets his glass on the table. You shake your head. He’s not... 
“Honey,” he takes your other hand as he kneels. You’re overly aware of the moisture left on your fingers. Of course, you’re that ungraceful. “I know it’s early but I don’t want to wait. I just feel... this is everything. I want you forever.” 
“Huh?” The noise makes you cringe. You sound so dumb. 
“Please, will you make me the luckiest man in the world--” 
“You can’t...” you gulp. 
“Marry me. Please.” 
You stare at him. Stunned. Your hand shakes. You reach to put the glass down and fan yourself. It can’t be real. So soon? 
“I’ll beg,” he squeezes your hand. “Honey, please.” 
“Steve,” you eke again. “I... I’m just so... surprised.” 
“I love you,” he says. “I love you so much, you’re all I think about.” 
“I...” you look at the glass and the ring at the bottom. “Yes, Steve. Oh my god. Yes.” 
He smiles triumphantly and grabs the champagne. He drains it and reveals the ring between his teeth. He takes it and dries it on his shirt. You lift your hand, trembling and let him slide it on. 
“Oh, yes, a lovely ring, indeed. His mother’s, you know? Cushion cut and look at the trim...” You recoil and scratch your ears. It’s that voice again. 
It can’t be Steve. His lips haven’t moved and it isn’t a male voice. It’s a woman. Her tone is rich and sultry and she has an accent. It doesn’t sound like anyone you know. 
“Honey?” Steve blinks at you with concern. 
“I... I’m sorry, I just... can I use the bathroom?” 
“Uh, yeah,” he looks disappointed. “Sure.” 
“Sorry, I don’t mean to ruin the moment, I just have a tickle,” you pat his hand gently and let him go. 
You stand and hurry away. 
“He asked me on London Bridge. At midnight. Wonderful. Back home, lovely weather,” the woman speaks again, booming in your brain. 
You swallow a yelp before you hide behind the bathroom door. You shake your head and cup your ears, but that only makes her louder. 
“Then we went to Paris. Oh, it was splendid.” She sighs dreamily. 
You look in the mirror. You appear maddened as your eyes are round and your mouth is twisted in dismay. You lean in as you notice the glint in your iris. There are flecks you’ve never seen there before. A subtle pigmentation. You blink. Is there something in your eyes? 
It’s unmoving. That slender grey speck. You bat your lashes again. They’re longer too. 
You grip the sink as you lean into the mirror. 
“He always liked it when I wore red lipstick.” She preens in your ears and you whine. You push yourself back and look down at your hands. You step back and raise them to examine your fingers. They look more tapered than before. Not so stubby and thick. 
You shake them out and take a breath. There’s something wrong. Something strange. With you. 
Yet, what can you do about it now? You can’t run out on Steve after such a nice night. And a proposal. You’ll wait until the morning and you’ll call the doctor. 
You shrink and lean against the wall. It’s just your luck. You meet the man of your dreams, get engaged, and now your mind is fraying. You’re terrified. 
“Please,” you whisper, “be quiet.” 
You wait. There’s no answer. You must sound as deranged as you feel. You’re talking to yourself. There’s no one else there. 
“Honey,” Steve taps on the door gently, startling you, “everything okay?” 
“Um, yeah,” you croak out. “Yes, I’m good.” You unlock the door and make yourself smile. “I was just admiring the ring.” 
“Nice, huh?” He takes your hand. “It was my mother’s. If you need it fitted, we can go tomorrow.” 
“Tomorrow?” You wonder. “Mm, well, I have to see the doctor.” 
“Oh,” his brows draw together, “maybe after then.” 
🥀
“I can’t offer you answers today,” Dr. Lichten drones. “I can refer you to someone who can. It could be a temporary episode. Or something more... chronic. The best place to start is with someone who can determine which.” 
You nod solemnly. His expression remained unmoved as you explained the voice in your head, almost as if he didn’t believe you. You didn’t bother to mention the changes you could see. You fear doing so might land you in a room with soft walls. 
You take the referral form and leave. Your phone is buzzing. It’s Steve. You love how attentive he can be but at the same time, you feel suffocated. You just need space to figure out what’s going on. 
“Quite simple, dear. You’re not me.” The voice taunts. You stop short in the hallway, nearly bowling over a nurse. You apologise and keep going. 
You continue out of the clinic and idle in your car as you call the psychiatric office. You have an appointment set. You’ll be okay until then. 
“He could never be happy with someone like you. Look at you, honey. You are a mess.” 
“Shut up,” you growl as you shift into drive. 
The voice is saying all the things you’ve said to yourself before but this time, it’s not the same murmuring doubt. It’s bold and brazen and cruel. And that accent. 
Your eyes flick to the ring shining on your finger. You nearly forgot it that morning until Steve reminded you. It’s so beautiful. 
“And you’re not,” the voice mocks. 
You sigh and close your eyes. You’re not doing this. You’re not arguing with whatever this is. 
You drive back to your own place. You’ll sleep and hope it goes away. You haven’t been doing much of that since Steve came around. He fills your evenings and the mornings comes too quick. Can you really keep up with him? 
“You cannot,” she snickers and you smack your ear as you push through your apartment door. You groan and try to rub away the stinging pain. 
You lay down but don’t get much sleep. Even as the voice recedes into silence, you’re unsettled as you wait for it to pipe up at any moment. When you surrender to your consciousness, you run a bath and ease into it. 
You close your eyes once more and linger in the steaming water. As it cools, you open your eyes. You look down at yourself. Surely it must be the water distorting your body. Where did that freckle come from? Is your skin a different shade? 
Strange things. You wish they’d stop. 
Steve calls as you wrap yourself in your robe, as if he knows. You answer. 
“Hey, whatcha up to?” He asks. 
“Nothing. Just... chilling out.” 
“You back at your place? I can swing by with lunch,” he offers. 
“Oh, Steve...” 
“I might already be here...” he chuckles. 
That’s his way. He doesn’t leave room for no but it’s never a bad thing. You sigh. 
“Alright, come on up.” 
🥀
“We can do some evaluations for schizophrenia but you have no genetic markers for it. No family history. Dissociative Personality might be something too,” Dr. Percy explains, “even a degree of body dysmorphia. Unfortunately, your systems are inconsistent with anything in the DSM-5.” 
You nod. 
“So that means?” 
“We have work to do,” she says. “But we can figure this out. Patience.” 
“Patience,” you frown. You don’t know how much longer you can handle this. 
“I’m patient,” the voice sneers and you wince.  
Percy inclines her head curiously, “you hear it now?” 
You give a quiet, “yes.” 
“And?” 
You squeeze your eyes shut as your head rattles, “she’s laughing!” 
You wrap your arms around your head and fold over. Percy rushes over. She puts her hand on your shoulder. The voice goes silent. You whimper. 
“What is it?” She asks. 
“Nothing,” you utter. “It’s gone.” 
She clicks her tongue. “You need sleep. I can prescribe sedatives. I want you to be careful, alright? You only need one at night. Just so you can rest.” 
“Thank you,” you sniffle as you sit up. “I just want to be better.” 
“I know. We will find stability,” she stands and takes her pad from her desk. “Come back on Friday.” 
“Okay,” you rise grimly. 
Outside the office, you sit in your car and cry. You feel yourself splintering apart. The seams are unraveling in your mind, the voice getting louder and louder as yours fades away. 
“Look at us,” she trills. “Dear, please, have a look. You can be so foolish. Come, the mirror.” 
You lift your head and grab onto the rear view. You tilt it down and grimace. Red lipstick. You don’t even own a stick, you didn’t put that on... huh? 
“Just a bit of touch up in the ladies’,” she drawls. “Better, don’t you think?” 
“Why-- what are you? Why are you doing this?” 
“Those are my favourite pearls,” she ignores your desperate plea. You touch the earrings Steve gave you. “They made it through the Blitz, you know?” 
“No, you’re not real. Not. Real!” You shriek and beat your temples, “get out. Get out! GET OUT!” 
Your nails scratch your scalp and you recoil. Oh, heavens. Your nails. Oval, pedicured, pretty. No, those aren’t yours. You turn your arms over. Another freckle that doesn’t belong. 
You lean back again and look in the mirror. Your eyes are a shade of blue you don’t recognise. Your face is longer too, cheekbones more defined. That’s not you. You’re hallucinating. 
“You’re right, it isn’t you,” she chimes and laughs again. 
You bend over the steering wheel and scream. You need it to stop! Stop! Stop! 
🥀
You take another pill. The third one that day. She’s still there. You’re barely. 
You should be happier than ever. You’re engaged. Your wedding is almost there. You’re miserable. You want it to end. 
“Honey,” Steve calls through the door. 
“I said leave me alone,” you snivel and pull the blanket over you. “Please, leave me alone.” 
“Are you okay? You’ve been in there all day.” 
“I just want to be left alone!” You snarl. 
“You want to be left alone, dear, you can go,” the voice sneers. “Go on, then.” 
“No,” you mutter. 
“I’m not leaving so...” she insists. 
“No, no, you won’t win!” You holler. 
“Honey?” Steve turns the handle and you keep the blanket around you. 
“Go.” You tell both of them. 
“Please, don’t do this. I know there’s a lot going on but we can face it together.” 
“No, Steve, we can’t... I... I’m not good enough for you. I’m... I’m... I’m going crazy,” you whine. 
“Crazy? Honey, no. You’re fine. The doctor said--” 
“I lied. She doesn’t know what’s wrong,” you groan. “So leave me alone. I deserve to be alone.” 
“Dear, you can end this. You just have to go.” The voice chirps.
“No!” You snap at the lilting jeer. “No, I will not let you...” 
Your head swirls as the drugs seep into your blood flow. 
“Isn’t that nice, hm? The darkness?” She asks. 
“Mmmm,” you grumble and go limp. 
“Honey,” Steve rubs your arm through the blanket, “you tired?” 
You garble. The pills smother you as the edges of your mind haze. Your body is heavy and warm. You cling to the relief. You just can’t be you for a little. You just want to sleep. 
“That’s it, darling,” she goads, “close your eyes. Relax.” 
You drift down into the depths, swirling slowly through ribbons of silk. They wrap around you and cover your face, drawing tight until they suffocate you. Until they silence you. You whimper as the fabric draws tight around your throat and you flail through the void. 
You spin and open your eyes. A swath of light sears into your eyes. You see Steve, distant, far away. He leans in and cradles your face but you can’t feel his hand. His thumb strokes your cheek. 
“Margaret?” He says breathily, “Peggy,” he brings his other hand up as your vision narrows, “I’ve been waiting.” 
That voice hums as the light turns to a slit, “so have I,” she slithers and the darkness glazes over, dragging you down into the abyss.  
You are bound in a shroud within yourself. You cannot speak, you cannot move. You have no mouth, no body to do so. You have nothing. You are nothing. 
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inkedinshadows · 14 hours ago
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Never Hold Back
Day 31: Squirting — Lucien x f!reader
Warnings: oral (f receiving), fingering, insecure reader
Word count: 1.099
A/N: we've finally got to the end of Kinktober! This was so much fun, but it was also exhausting ngl. I'm working on new fics and I'm so glad it's not smut bc I seriously need a break from it. I didn't think I'd be able to write a fic for each day when I decided to do this and I have to say I'm quite of myself for making it. Thank you so much to everyone who read/commented/reblogged my silly smutty blurbs and if you've stuck around to read them all, I love you pls let's get married.
based on this suggestion
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You didn’t have much experience with sex. Or rather, you did, but the people you had been with could be counted on one hand. And if there was one thing you learned after your first time, it was how to fake an orgasm just before the real one hit you. That way, your partner would relent, sparing you the embarrassment.
But Lucien wasn’t like your previous lovers. He was your mate.
When you arched off the bed and moaned louder than before, he pulled his mouth away from you and watched you with a furrowed brow.
“Why do you do that?”
At first, you didn’t understand what he was talking about, and your insecurities took over. What had you done? Did you have an actual orgasm? No, you would have felt that, and Lucien would have looked more grossed out than concerned.
“Do what?” you asked, trying to keep the tremor from your voice.
Lucien sat up straight and you immediately felt the absence of his head between your thighs. His eyes found yours and the uneasiness etched on his face made you brace yourself for what might be coming.
He was silent for a moment before he said quietly, “If you don’t enjoy what I’m doing, please just tell me.”
Eyes wide, you sat up too. “Why would you think that? Of course I enjoy it, Lu!”
“Then why did you just fake an orgasm?”
“I didn’t—”
“You did it last time too.”
Your breath caught, heat rising to your cheeks until you were sure you looked like a tomato. Unsure how to respond, you looked down at your fidgeting hands.
You always thought you were good at faking, that it looked real enough to not raise suspicions. None of the males you’d been with before had ever noticed. And now that your mate had realized it, you wished the ground would open and swallow you whole.
“Sunshine,” he called softly.
A slender finger hooked under your chin, and then you were looking into his eyes. He didn’t seem upset, which spurred you to finally say something.
“I’m sorry,” you stuttered, and words began pouring out in an incoherent stream. “It’s just… my body. When I come, it does— it’s really gross, so I just… I thought you—”
You stopped abruptly when his thumb moved to cover your lips. He searched your face, his brows still furrowed, before he asked, “What do you mean ‘gross’?”
You shook your head, resisting the urge to look away again, but his gaze was piercing, and his golden eye seemed to see right through you, so eventually you answered, voice just above a whisper.
“I… I tend to squirt.”
You expected disgust, judgment, maybe even rejection—the same reactions you had gotten the few times it happened, the reasons you had started faking.
Instead, Lucien smiled broadly. “You do?”
He sounded so excited that you frowned as you gave him a single nod. His hands traveled down your body, caressing your sides until they rested on your waist. You were still waiting for a rejection, and he probably read it on your face because he gently squeezed you.
“Y/N… did someone tell you it’s gross?” he questioned. “Is that why you say that?”
You blinked. “You don’t think it is?”
As soon as the words left your mouth, Lucien’s posture changed. His back went a bit rigid, and his jaw clenched as he let you go. “Lay back down,” he said, or rather ordered. No soft tone was left in his voice, in his expression.
“Lucien…” you tried, but he cut you off.
“Lay down. I’m going to make you come.”
You did as he asked, though with a touch of hesitation. Lucien was quick to settle between your legs again. When you opened your mouth to try and talk him out of it one last time, he beat you to it.
“I am going to make you come,” he repeated, even more firmly than the first time. And then he was licking a stripe up your folds, his hands holding you open for him to feast on.
You decided to just enjoy it, then. What else were you supposed to do when he flicked his tongue over your clit and gently rolled it between his lips? Your hand shot out to tangle in his fiery hair, and you sucked in a breath, feeling his low chuckle reverberate against your cunt.
He probed your entrance with a finger, and when you squirmed, he pushed it in and curled it, hitting that sweet spot that drew a groan from deep in your throat. And then you lost all sense of time and space as the fingers became two and his mouth latched onto your clit.
The pleasure was rising fast—faster than ever, now that you weren’t worrying about waiting for the perfect moment to fake your orgasm. Yet as you felt it approaching, the thought that maybe you should stop before it was too late lingered at the back of your mind.
“Lucien, I’m… I’m close,” you warned, your voice a breathless murmur.
“Then come for me, sunshine.” He looked up at you through his lashes, and his next words were a low, commanding growl. “Don’t you dare hold it back.”
When he thrust his fingers in deeper and curled them once more, you didn’t hold it back, and after so long without such an intense feeling, you were utterly overwhelmed by it. A loud cry broke free from you as your whole body shook while you squirted all over Lucien’s fingers and chin. He held you firm, still working you until you went limp, spent and panting. Only then did he pull back, and you blushed at the sight of his face covered in your release.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered.
Lucien only smiled. “Don’t be. Don’t ever apologize for it.”
He climbed up your body, and you wrapped your arms around his neck out of instinct. As he kissed you, you could taste yourself on his lips and tongue. You weren’t sure how you felt about it.
“It was amazing, sunshine,” he murmured against your lips. “Hot, even.”
His words warmed your heart and a bit of the shame you had grown accustomed to began to melt away. If Lucien, your mate, found it hot… then maybe it wasn’t actually that bad after all.
“And to think that you've denied yourself so many orgasms because of it…” he went on. A smirk blossomed on his lips and a mischievous glint sparked in his russet eye. “Let me remedy that.”
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General taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings
Kinktober taglist: @thyellablackk @p1nkfluffysocks @maddieboo8 @a-courtof-azriel @whataenginerd @loviseamms @chaconnelatte @okaytrashpanda @scarsandallaz @velarisdusk @olive-main @krispypotato @scorpioriesling @fourthwing4ever @asaucecoveredsomething
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brattyspence · 2 days ago
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wedding date (part i.)
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summary: reader needs to find someone to bring as a date to her younger sister’s wedding, and Spencer talks her into letting him pretend to be her boyfriend for the night to appease her family. This part covers the initial agreement and reader and spencer getting ready to attend the wedding only a/n: good god this was supposed to be a little drabble during the actual wedding but i wanted to make a cute intro and it became long as fuck. this is also my first completed fic for like… an embarrassing amount of time, so it’s imperfect and i’m feeling a little worried that the chemistry i am picturing in my head is not translating onto the screen! be kind with me! i also don't know how this works (i was a wattpad kid in my prime) and i just wanted to upload something to get started. warnings: fem reader, reader worries about being the eldest sister/only unmarried and single daughter within her family, she’s really an overthinking mess (omg who wrote this) fake relationship, tinder, men with j-names (lmao), one curse word? i think. NO Y/N USE :) word count: 1.9k
You leaned back in your desk chair, holding your phone up at just the right angle for Penelope to see the screen from where she stood behind you. You were swiping away on Tinder, narrowing down options to choose as a date to your younger sister’s wedding.
“Oh, he’s cute,” she said. “Wait, scroll up. I wanna see his bio.” 
You obliged, your thumb swiping up to read the body of text. 
“James,” You read. Your face visibly screws up. “Ugh,’ J’ names.” 
“You’re not marrying the guy, just using him. And besides,” Penelope leaned in to read his profile. “He plays pickleball, whatever that is… and he likes dogs!”
You swipe left.
“Ugh! Come on,” she huffs. “And this one has a fish in his picture. We’re getting nowhere.” 
You laugh at her remark, swiping again. 
Spencer had been half-listening from his desk across the bullpen. He was trying to finish up his paperwork. It was getting late, and most of the team had already left for the night. He didn’t want to hear about your tinder escapades, the mere concept made him more upset than he’d care to admit, but here he was, listening anyway.
“What are you guys doing?” He finally closes the manilla folder on his desk, looking up at you with a confused expression.
“Shit, Spencer. I didn’t think you were still here,” you huff, turning your phone off. You spin your chair to face him. “I’m trying to find a date for my sister’s wedding.” 
“Online?”
“On… Tinder.” You felt a little ashamed to say it out loud, especially to him. It was no secret in the office that Spencer made you flustered, and often. You had recently gone undercover together. It had required both of you to look the part and dress in something expensive looking. You had found yourself in a country club with a big fat ring on your left ring finger, playing the part of a happily engaged couple. You were tasked with convincing the unsub and bystanders of your act, while also not exposing your true feelings about him to the team of profilers watching through CCTV and listening through the microphone strapped to your top. You hadn’t done such a good job with the latter, apparently, and had found yourself subject to teasing from many of them after the mission was complete.
“You’re going to meet some guy that you found online… and bring him to meet your family?”
“Spencer, not everyone lives in the dark ages like you,” Penelope says, getting up from her spot on your desk. She begins her path towards the door, assuming you’ve hit a dead end for the night.
“What if he’s… a freak or something?” He asks. 
“Oh, please. I’ll run a background check on him,” she says, stopping in the doorway. “This isn’t my first rodeo, pretty boy. So unless you have a better idea…”
“I- yeah. I do have a better idea. Don’t do… that. I’ll take you.” 
I’ll take you.
You hesitate, your eyes flickering between his face and Penelope’s suddenly very stunned expression. The doorway is behind him, which you’re thankful for as she wildly gestures in her excitement before waving at you, mouthing something like ‘hurry up and answer!’ before slipping away to her desk. 
“You… you would do that?”
“Yeah, I would do that. Especially if it means you don’t go with James from Tinder.” He smiles. “Besides, I’m kind of upset that you didn’t think to ask me after…”
He had a point. 
“Fine,” you say, offering him a smile. “Thank you, Spence.”
“You don’t need to thank me.” He looks pleased, pushing his chair away from his desk and grabbing his things. He shuts off the desk light. “Just send me the details.”
You nod, deciding it’s late enough to do the same and finally go home yourself. “I will. Goodnight, Spencer.”
You had been standing over the hotel bathroom sink for half an hour as you perfected your makeup. Time was ticking. You had a half hour to finish getting ready and get down to the lobby for the ceremony, which would have been more than enough time if you weren’t as nervous as you were. 
You were putting your brush down on the sink and closing the bronzer compact in your hands when you heard a knock on the door. The compact fell from your fingers, hitting the sink and shattering. You cursed under your breath. 
Great.
You turned away from the mess, brushing the loose powder off your hands before stepping out of the bathroom and into the short hallway of the hotel room. You undid the lock, opening it cautiously. 
Of course he had to look good. Of course he had to show up with his perfectly undone hair, in that gorgeous suit Derek had helped him pick out, assuring you he would make sure it matched your dress. You dragged your eyes off of him, off of his undone tie, and up to his eyes. 
“Hi.” He started. His eyes turned slightly with a hint of a smile. “Everything okay?”
You huffed. “Yeah. I just… dropped my bronzer and it shattered. It's fine.” You shook your head. “I'm sorry. Come in…”
You stepped aside to let him in, shutting the door behind him. 
“I know I’m early… You were just kind of anxious on the phone earlier. I thought you might want some company.” He set his suit jacket down on the edge of your bed. “Do you want me to help you clean that up..?”
“No, no. I don't want you to get dirty. I got it,” you said. You stepped into the bathroom, picking up the compact from the sink. You tossed out the case and rinsed the powder down the drain, watching it swirl away. He was leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest, watching. 
“How are you feeling about this?” He asked. 
“About… this?”
“About your sister getting married,” he clarified. He looked a little concerned as you fumbled with your things, cleaning up the countertop. “I know you were worried about it. And clearly you're feeling some type of way…” he says, furrowing his eyebrows as he watches you drop another item in your haste to clean up.
There was so much to be anxious about. Being the eldest daughter, the only single daughter, being this close to him when he looked so good and smelled like some kind of cologne that was new to you and made you a little dizzy, the knowledge that he got up and got ready to take you to an event, and that he would return home at the end of the night and you’d still be here, alone, pining over a man who was oblivious to your adoration for him. 
You swallowed, zipping your makeup bag and setting it at the back of the sink. 
“Bittersweet. I don't know. I'll be fine.”
“You will be,” he said. He was watching your expression, clearly in thought. He was waiting for you to say something more, it seemed, but you didn't have anything to say. “You’ve dealt with harder things.”
A beat of silence passed between you. 
“I just… feel a little left out, I guess.”
“Left out?” He cocks his head. 
“Yeah. My two younger sisters are married and I'm… not. It feels stupid to say out loud.”
“It's not stupid if it's bothering you…” 
You look up at him, meeting his gaze. He was genuinely concerned, and waiting for you to finish your thought.
“It's nothing. It's really ridiculous,” You shook your head as if to shoo away your thoughts. “I guess I should put this dress on.” You turned your head to gesture at the garment bag hanging off the shower rod.
He nods, deciding to leave the subject alone. He pushed off the doorframe and stepped back into the larger area of the hotel room. You closed the bathroom door softly and turned to put your hands on the edge of the sink, taking a deep breath to center yourself.
You quickly pulled your phone out of your pocket, sending an update to Penelope who had so politely requested for you to keep her in the loop.
You: im making such a fool out of myself. im SO NERVOUS.
She writes back immediately.
Penelope: i’m sure it will be fine! he's a gentleman!! don’t stress yourself and have fun :)
You slip off your pajamas, pretending he's not ten feet away from you as you fold them on top of the sink. You unzip the garment bag, pulling the dress off the hanger, then unzipping the dress itself. JJ had helped you pick it out, and she was right about it; it is stunning. It slips over your body like a glove, the silk material sliding right into place against your skin. You held up the front of the dress, arranging the straps over your shoulders. What you hadn’t thought about was the zipper. There was no way you could do it yourself, which only left one option. 
You held the material covering your chest up, cracking the bathroom door open.
“Spence?” 
He looks up from his phone. He had been sitting at the edge of your bed, seemingly reading something on the device. You see his eyes flicker over your form briefly and then back up at your eyes.
“Can you help me zip this?” You ask.
He nodded, visibly swallowing. He turned his phone off with a click, leaving it on top of the bed as he got up to make his way to you. You turned away from him, the bare skin of your back exposed to him. 
You felt his fingers ghost across your skin, catching the loose strands of hair that obscured the zipper's path and tucking them over your shoulder. His fingertips found the base of the zipper, gently tugging it all the way up and doing the clasp at the top. The simple action felt like it took minutes, hours maybe. You found yourself wondering if you were crazy for thinking that the way in which he did this simple favor for you was incredibly intimate.
You tugged your mind back to the present moment, looking down at the dress and smoothing it out with your hands. You turned back to face him, admittedly overwhelmed by his proximity. 
“For what it's worth, you look beautiful. And you have nothing to worry about.” 
Oh.
You shook your head again, a futile attempt at deflecting the attention you were so desperately unprepared for.
“You don't have to do that.”
“I’m not doing anything,” he says. There’s no sarcastic edge to his comment. There’s not even the typical arrogance that men offered with their compliments. He was entirely genuine, and looking at you with a distinct fondness that you were unsure you’d ever noticed from him before. Maybe you were imagining it.
You sighed, avoiding his gaze for a second before looking up at him. 
“But we do need to get going.” He glances at his watch. The tension shatters.
“Shit,” you sigh. “Right.” 
You force yourself away from him, and finish getting ready in a hurry. You strapped on your heels quickly before rummaging through your makeup bag again to find your perfume, which you very carefully sprayed over yourself. You slide your phone into your clutch, tucking it under your arm before looking up at him once more. 
“Are you ready?” You ask. You step closer to him, straightening his tie carefully. “I didn’t think I’d be the one on edge today. You’re facing my entire family’s interrogations…”
He laughs. “I’ve been trained for this, you know.”
You smile. “I guess you have. So let's get going, then."
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yourmomsawh0r3 · 1 day ago
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i loveeeeddd ur Juno fic <3
imagine if glen’s popstar girlfriend gave him the pink fuzzy handcuffs right before she performed Juno and the crowd went CRAZYYY 😂
your wish is my command ✨
Fuzzy pink handcuffs
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The lights dimmed as sirens blared from the loudspeakers, capturing the audience’s full attention. In the spotlight, Y/N stepped forward, her gaze focused right on Glenn in the crowd. With a seductive grin, she fanned herself, playing up the moment.
“Glenn Powell,” she purred into the mic, “you are under arrest…for being too hot.”
The crowd erupted, cheering wildly as they turned to watch Glenn’s reaction. He stood in the pit, blushing and laughing, completely captivated by her boldness.
Y/N continued, letting her eyes drift over him as she leaned closer to the microphone. “Guys,” she teased, looking out at her fans, “have you ever seen someone so sexy that they make your clothes just…fall off?”
As she spoke, her hands found the clasp of her breakaway skirt, and in one smooth motion, it fell to the floor, revealing a breathtaking, sparkling bodysuit that left everyone speechless. She tossed Glenn a wink, stepping to the edge of the stage with a mischievous smile, dangling a pair of pink fuzzy handcuffs. “I can’t wait to handcuff you tonight,” she murmured into the mic, sending the crowd into a frenzy.
With a playful smirk, Y/N launched into “Juno,” the crowd singing along and matching her energy. At the line, “Have you ever tried this one?” she went into downward dog position glancing back at Glenn as she moved. The look on his face was priceless, his heart pounding as he tried to take it all in.
After the show ended, Glenn made his way backstage, anticipation thrumming through him. The moment he saw her, she pulled him into the tour bus, her eyes gleaming with the same playful spark from the stage. They shared a heated kiss, and before he knew it, they were in the shower together, steam filling the small space as water cascaded over them.
Glenn pressed her against the shower wall, whispering praises and teasing murmurs, his voice low and affectionate. “You were so beautiful up there,” he murmured, tracing kisses down her neck. “Such a good girl, driving me crazy.”
He inserted himself inside her making y/n moan
After picking up a good pace
“Still want me to make you juno?” he says. “Please, yes fill me up” y/n says
glenn spills his seed inside of her walls and thrust more inside of her making sure every last drop was inside of her.
Breathless and wrapped up in each other, Y/N and Glenn leaned against the shower wall, water streaming over them as they slowly caught their breath. With a gentle smile, Glenn brushed a damp strand of hair away from her face, his gaze soft and full of admiration. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, the warmth of the moment lingering as he held her close.
“You were incredible tonight,” he murmured, his thumb brushing gently along her cheek. “You always are.”
She looked up at him, a small, satisfied smile spreading across her face as she threaded her fingers through his hair. “It’s easy to be when I know you’re out there cheering me on.”
They shared a few more quiet kisses, savoring the peaceful aftermath. Eventually, they wrapped up in towels and dried off, laughter bubbling between them as they found themselves back in the cozy space of her tour bus. With takeout pizza boxes spread on the floor, they sat side by side, sharing slices, talking about every highlight of her performance, and sneaking kisses between bites.
As they settled together, the night quieted around them, and they both felt deeply grateful for each other and the memories they’d just created. Glenn wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close as they drifted into a peaceful, contented silence, simply enjoying being together.
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penvisions · 2 days ago
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gone to the dogs {chapter 6}
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Pairing: Boston QZ! Joel Miller x F! Reader
Summary: You and Joel make what you can of the life you lead in the zone, though the thought of more begins to form in your thoughts three years down the line.
Word Count: 5.3k
Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, canon typical gore, age gap (pre time skip reader late 20's and joel is early 40's, post time skin reader is 30 and joel is mid 40's), outbreak fic, degrading language, violence, heated interactions, adult language, fighting, references to injuries, blood, sexual content, rough sex, p in v, smut, unprotected p in v (it's the end of the world, y'all), slight dom/sub vibes, topping from the bottom maybe?, sexual propositions, oral (m receiving), warnings of pregnancy, unwanted pregnancy, references to off screen abuse, references to off screen assault (not reader), non con touching (not joel), mentions of past use of narcotics, illegal smuggling, references to death, lemme know if i left any out!
A/N: hi and bye (not back to posting on a regular basis yet but wanted to share this with y'all)
ao3 link || series masterlist || navigation || joel miller masterlist || ko-fi
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The ground beneath your feet tears up with the force of your running steps, panic and terror making you numb to the amount of noise you’re making as you try to escape from the man who had separated you from everything you had ever known. A shock of violence for your quiet group as they had settled for the night just as the sun began to dip below the horizon. The image of Frankie being slammed into the ground hard and the breath knocked out of him burned into your mind’s eye. Of everyone, the few still left scattered like bugs underneath a log that was plucked from the earth.
They had come out of nowhere, ambushed your little group a mere five miles out from the zone that you had escaped from at the first sign of trouble, of change. It had only lasted two years, the initial set up for protection and mutual residence. Safety in numbers, safety in routine, safety in working together to preserve what worked from a time past and figuring out what worked in the current time.
But it all deteriorated. You had witnessed it with your own two eyes, the fall of what people clung to, the fall of what little relic of civilization had tried to survive. Frank hadn’t wanted to go, always believing that things could get better, that they wouldn’t fall, that people were good.
He had been convinced when you told him about the officer that had cornered you and tried to force himself on you in exchange for a few extra ration cards. His stuff packed in less than a day and a group of three others who he was on friendly terms with quickly gathering supplies when you showed up at their doorstep.
You had been torn from him, voice hoarse from shouting out at the rough treatment. Distracted by the violence that had befallen your group, territory being protected, and people seen as a threat. The pack of food and supplies was ripped from your shoulders as a man took advantage of your shock, of your shouting for someone who wasn’t you. It was the last time you were ever that unaware of your surroundings. It was the moment that changed the trajectory of your life, altered the very person who you were supposed to be into who you would become.
“Now you listen here and you listen good, little girl.” The man’s breath was ragged as he leaned in close and pressed his hands into the soft give of your chest. Fingers curling in a suggestive manner. “You’re either gonna let me have my way with you or you’re gonna be of some other use. Don’t need no one who can’t earn their keep.”
“Then let me go.” Your eyes look past him, to where Frankie is being thrown to the ground underneath the persuasion of a shotgun. His hands are shaking, held up in front of him. Looking straight at the accomplice of the man who had set his sights on you. A spare glance from both of them, then the man is smirking before turning back to Frankie and saying something that steals all the color from his face.
“Not on the table. We got two jobs for you, it’s your choice which one you’re willing to do.”
“Neither.” You spit into his face, the hold he has on your arm tightening and beginning to sting, your skin smarting.
“Cheeky bitch,” His palm is sharp where it lands on your cheek, stinging. He roughly jostles you, pain blossoming. Throwing you to the ground, all you can do is try to keep the trembling of your bottom lip to yourself and the tears watering your eyes from falling. “You’ll learn to respect me, that’s for damn sure.”
He laid himself over you completely, face far too close, his hands running up and down the length of your body. They lingered in places they shouldn’t, fingers dipped underneath the waistband of your jeans and then settled again over your chest where he feels it in his palms roughly. Moving to caress your face, he croons at how young and pretty you are, unsettling your stomach and rousing bile in your throat. All you can do is force your mind to blank and hope that the others got away…
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You feel the same tendrils of fear now, as your boots beat into the ground now. There’s an eerie feeling about the early morning as the rising sun paints the sky with deep pink and orange hues, the distant screeching of possessed beings chasing after you. The safety that’s slowly diminishing as you rush around chunks of concrete and avoid spokes of rebar reaching for you.
Joel isn’t by your side, having pivoted when a clicker ended up between you both. There was a meet up point, in case of separation. That’s where you were headed, even as you hear the runners behind you gain speed at the harsh breaths, you’re unable to silence as your lungs burn.
Your pack catches on the corner as you round a building that still remains standing, the fabric ripping and the contents inside spilling out. You trip on a canister of coffee, the roll of it just right to be wrong and you feel yourself begin to go down. A monstrous snarl is far too close and you don’t even think to look back as you use your hands to push off the side of the building and then shove off the pack, goods be damned. Your life was more important.
He would understand, you know he would, but you still lament the loss of the pack.
You’re suddenly pinned to the ground, a heavy weight on your back uprooting your center of gravity.
Snapping teeth and a deep, guttural snarling fills your ear and drives your heartbeat up to a painful notch. Your hands scrape on the earth beneath you as you plant them as firmly as you can and arch your back to throw off the weight. Gnarled, spindly hands rake down the back of your jacket but the lack of nails on the tips of the infected’s fingers allows for you to buck them off of you directly. As soon as they land beside you, they lunge, crawling toward you on all fours in a terrifying scramble.
The gun you had lays between you both, the safety off. Kicking out, the heel of your boot makes a sickly crunch when you land a hit on the side of the infected’s head. The action pulls out a grating howl but gives you enough time to scurry forward for the weapon and as soon as it’s in your grip you’re pulling the trigger once, twice, three times before the thing collapses on its front and goes silent.
But you don’t waste a second, you don’t think you even take in a full breath before you’re back on your feet and running once again. You can’t see the others, but you can hear them, can sense them honing in on the gunfire and their steps are loud as they careen to where you had been just moments before.
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You only watch with bated breath as you hear the distant sound of echoing footsteps from end of the hall. The door to the stairwell pushes open, creaking for the barest of seconds until a single hand curls around it, securing a hold on the handle just so and lifts the door slightly to relieve the tension on the hinges. It’s quiet as it slowly swings open the rest of the way and Joel’s form steps through it.
Your stomach swoops and the tense ball of fear and concern eases in your chest. Because for all your snapping teeth and biting words, for all the brandishing threats of your knife and the deliberate pointing of the barrel of your gun, the power in your decisions – you do have fear. For him to transform into something even you couldn’t bring him back from. From him simply disappearing from you in a heartbeat and you’d be left with nothing but a body that was once warm and housed his soul.
Sucking in a breath to center yourself, you watch as he traverses down the hallway, carefully avoiding the little traps and deterrents you’ve set up over the years. Once he’s cleared the distance and through the door to the apartment that is the hideaway and meet up spot, the door is closed and locked securely behind him.
His hands are scrabbling at you, reaching and pulling you nearly flush to him. Joel’s expression is hard, but behind his eyes you can see the worry and concern that he’s feeling. The steel gray that streaks through his dark hair is more apparent in the sunshine that filters in through broken windows and crumbling walls of the hotel lobby. Prominent in his sideburns, the scruff along the curve of his strong jaw, and the dusting of hairs across his chest. There’s water that has built up over the years, from the rain that trickles in, green with a thick layer of film over the top. It’s not an adjustment anymore to reach for him when you’re overwhelmed, though your voice and instincts betray you in snarky comments and biting rebuttals all the same.
“You did good,” He rumbles, voice breathy as he pants to regain the air in his lungs. He had taken longer to make it to the meeting point, but he was here. He was okay. You feel the harsh beats of your heart begin to calm, your own breathing beginning to even as you wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face in the crook there. His large palms are sliding down your back as he kneels. Hooking underneath your thighs as he hauls you into his arms, guiding your legs to wrap around his waist.
“Nasty scratch there,” You notice the bloody line cut into the skin of his chest, where his shirt is unbuttoned at the top, his undershirt gone- it’s hanging back in your shared apartment on a drying line from when you had washed it a few days ago. Yesterday’s run was not supposed to drag and turn into an anxious and long overnight stay in the ruins of the city outside of the zone. Not supposed to be a loss, but a win for the collection that steadily grows between two apartments and three partners.
You knew things were getting worse, but this was the first time any run had fallen apart in such a fashion in a long while.
“It’ll heal, they always do.”
He’s littered with them, from runs and trips and even an altercation or two with Bill over the years. But he’s fine, he’s more than fine. He’s…he’s strong, capable, a force to be reckoned with. A big, silhouette of a man that no one would dare to mess with. He’s really come into himself more, defined a clear-cut way of business that he’s taken a more invested front in. You still head the smuggling, the deals, the runs, dictating when and where he and Tess need to be. But he’s definitely the muscle of the operation, the one that people deal with the most.
He's bowing to press his lips to yours in a bruising kiss, spurring hot sparkles to dance along your skin and mingle with the sharp adrenaline that pumps through your veins. Teeth nip sharply at your bottom lip, at cut of your jaw, the column of your neck as he walks you toward the small bedroom at the back of the apartment.
It’s desperate, the way he’s dropping you down on the aged mattress and grasping harshly to flip you onto your knees. It’s depraved, the way his thick fingers undo the buckle of your belt and the fly of your jeans, tears the material over your ass and shoves it to bunch around your knees. It’s reverent the way he skims his palms down the small of your back as he hikes up your shirt and trails them along your sides, feeling the handles of your hips that make him dizzy, the curve of your backside, the ticklish skin of the back of your thighs.
You can’t help the moan that floats from you when he drags his knuckles over the swollen apex between them. But he doesn’t take his time, this round, as you hear the clink of his own belt being undone you can’t help but arch your back more for him. He let’s out a small, breathy fuck as his attention focuses on you and you alone.
The rounded head of his cock is striking as it glides between your slick folds, his skin fire that catches and burns through you in the most delicious way. He’s sliding into you, taking the moment to slow down and catch his own breath, his fingers bruising as they hold tight around your hips.
“Take it.” Joel grunted, hips slamming into the back of your thighs. The heft of his body behind every powerful move pressing you into the creaking bed. The frame was little more than a board of plywood set up on some concrete blocks. The mattress is far too soft from years of use. But it didn’t matter, the only thing that mattered was that he was upright and breathing. It was enough of a comfort in the hiding spot deep in an apartment building that still stands. The windows barricaded and the hallway lined with makeshift sensors to alert of anyone the second they open the stairwell door to the floor. “Such a good girl for me, letting me give you it to you like this.”
His hips slam into you, knocking you forward and one of your hands out from under you. A deep, guttural sound heaves from your chest at the new angle. As you’re bent and arched in a way that allows him to drive even deeper, to fill you even more. The thick feel of him has you fluttering around his base, your clit throbbing at the pleasure that crawls over your skin in a hot sparkling sensation. “Always love to see this thick, fucking ass ripple. How you let me do what I want, give me the chance to show you what you mean to me. See the way she swallows me into her tight, slick heat. God, you always feel so good. Better than any pills, better than any drink.”
He’s never been loud, at least excessively, but the mouth on him lately has even your head spinning. The walls he had constructed around himself lowering when he shared his space and body with you. When you shared your own with him.
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You reach into the front pocket of your pants, still bunched around your knees. Taking a pack of travel tissues out and a single one from inside as you move to wipe yourself clean of his drying spend. Behind you he gets up to his feet as well, his thighs protesting the movement, his knees twinging at the weight of him standing. The barely audible pops and cracks of his body realigning itself after the rather intense actions catch your ear as much as it does his. A small groan rumbles deep in his chest as he gathers his breath, face turning away from you as he reaches down to rub at the bends of his knees.
“A little too much for you, hmm?” You needle, unable to help the saccharine coo from your voice as you turn around onto your back and look down to the end of the bed. Your chest is rising, heart racing and body singing as you still feel him all around you, his touch a brand into your skin.
“Ain’t enough, actually.” His teeth glint as he brandishes them at you before leaning over you to playfully nip at the end of your nose. Your eyes light up as a raspy giggle sneaks up from somewhere deep in your middle, the glint in his eyes sparkling as he takes in the mirth his action drew out.
“You say that, but your knees seem to want to argue that.” You lean up, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing completely against him. He groans as your unclothed hips meet his, the press of your still slick skin against him where he hadn’t tucked himself away just yet. Another giggle sounds in the air and he’s mumbling underneath his breath, knowing that you’re trying to get a rise out of him with your taunting. He steps back, putting ample space between your burning bodies before he thinks better of it.
He’s approaching, eyes zoned in on the tissues in your hands as he comes up in front of you. You don’t try to hide your smirk as he snatches the small pack out of your hand, lips curling in an ill masked grimace before pulling one free from the plastic.
His hands are shaky, the adrenaline of the separation and then rather…enthusiastic reunion is draining, leaving him a mess of shot nerves. Cooing, you circle him and back his large frame up to the edge of the shitty mattress until his calves are pressed up to it. Locking eyes with him, you place a hand firmly on his chest and push him to take a seat. He does so willingly, body losing some tension as his backside sinks into the fabric.
“Why don’t you let me clean you up?”
“Already got this,” Joel tries and fails to fight off a yawn as he waves the tissue in front of him. His teeth snap shut with a clack as you kneel in front of him, shoulder your way between his knees, and press a caste kiss to the still swollen head of his half-hard cock where it bobs in his lap. The jingle of the belt he had re-looped is loud as his hips jerk, oversensitive where his pants had barely been pulled back up over his hips.
The pack of tissues falls to the ground as you wrap your lips around him and lick your own release where it saturated his entire length. A testament to what he does to you, what he still does to you with a single look. Casting your eyes up through your lashes, you can see the way his own flutter as he struggles to keep them open and trained on you. His eyes snap open wide when the hands trailing over his middle beneath his shirt caress the jumping muscles in his thighs, one wrapping securely around the base of his cock and squeezing while the other sneaks between your legs.
His deep voice rattles of endless praise and encouragement as you both find another crest together.
You move to pick the pack up from the ground, but his hand pulls you toward him. The action is too quick, your legs too weak for the sudden movement, and you stumble into him where he’s still perched on the edge of the mattress. His hands cup your backside, thick fingers digging into the skin as he holds you in his lap, your hands tight over his biceps for balance. His chuckle is dark as he murmurs something about wanting more time to see how much he can really tired you out before he’s leaning in to kiss you deeply. The scruff about his face is a soft hush against your skin but you revel in the feel of it.
Rough movements for a rough man.
The pressure of his hands disappears for a moment before he’s bringing them down to smack his palm to the flesh. Gasping, you look up at him to meet the playful look of shock on his rugged features.
It morphs into a smirk, eyes calculating as he watches whatever crumbs he can glimpse of your thoughts across your face.
It’s not uncharted territory, it’s not uncommon ground, the crackling intensity of shared desire. It’s a facet of your life now, hidden between the seedier parts of survival, fending for yourself and protecting what was yours every minute of every day.  The physical connection you found with Joel is equal parts exhilarating and daunting. A reprieve of the harshness of life in the zone, but it could just as easily turn into damnation alongside everything else.  
You lean forward and kiss him deeply, his lips bruising as they move against yours again and again.
He sneaks a hand underneath your chin and nudges your face up more. Eventually he pulls away from you and something different swirls behind his eyes that has your heartrate pick up again. Something you see more of as the days come and go.
There’s a depth to them, beyond his hidden emotions and easily displayed ones, as if he was feeling the minute shift in the air that was beginning to take place. One prompted unwittingly by the thoughts that were beginning to tumble inside your brain, one in particular more than others. The idea was a silent one, a personal one. A way to get out, a way to make your own little bubble away from it all. To be more like Bill and Frankie. You think his own mind may be on the same wavelength or that he at least senses the yearning that is beginning to glow in your chest.
“All you gotta do is ask and I’ll oblige.” The words are whispered, like it’s a secret that they exist. Only for you to hear and only this far away from the place you both begrudgingly call home. You duck your head, to hide the small glint of teeth that betrayed a satisfied grin, his eyes catch it anyway and he dips down to nip at your bottom lip in a teasing manner.
You could feel his eyes on you still, as you detangled from him with a lingering caress to his neck, his muscles twitching at the soft touch. His dark eyes always watching as they took in the way you jiggled a little to get the waist of your jeans back up on your hips, the movement making your chest bounce in your tank top.
“Hmm, sure know how to fill ‘em out.” He’s reaching to trace a finger along your collarbone, thoughts swirling in the brown depths of his beautiful eyes. Watching, cataloguing, cautious and on alert every second of every day. “Zone’s getting worse, with the change of the season.”
“Medical bay is already rationing the antibiotics and steroids. Hell, they have been but it’s more apparent as this…strain of flu or whatever wreaks havoc.”
“Don’t want you gettin’ sick.” You hear the unspoken sentiment in his voice, the worry he holds as you had shared with him one night that you have recurring nightmares of suffocating as your body works against itself. Tries to fight off sickness only to be too weak. He hadn’t understood at first, when you whispered it to him. He had thought you were worried about being Infected, of the cordyceps, which you were. But you had explained that you meant you were worried of finding your death in something simple, something completely preventable. Something that would reveal just how weak you were, how human you were.
He had fallen silent, when you explained it. You hadn’t pushed him to share his own nightmares and he hadn’t dug any deeper into yours, but you know he thinks of the exchange often.
Once you were both fully dressed, he pulls you into a tight hold that you wouldn't classify as a hug, but for him it was. You huff as the air is squeezed from your lungs. Your body tenses for a millisecond before relaxing and bringing your arms around him, around his middle. You rest your head on his chest, his chin going to rest atop it. You squeeze him back, just relishing the fleeting casual intimacy.
Knowing it was only a moment and the gruff commands and barks of words would resume the second you both stepped out from the abandoned building. The way he acted in public so drastically different from how he softened when he was alone with you. It had been years, since that first explosive argument and then whispered plea to let him take care of you, it had been a long journey to get to this point and you’d be damned if anything threatened the life you had made for yourself. The life you had made with the man you leaned into willingly and wholeheartedly.
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Sickness plagues the zone, from the youngest to the soldiers. It’s nasty, the strain of influenza, and stronger than the medication that has begun to wane in potency the longer is sits in bottles and foil packets. There are no more shots to take, no more antibiotics or narcotics of medical grade. Unless you were willing to pay big, and even then there was no guarantee it would save you.
There are so many bodies to burn each day, you know it and Tess knows it. But Joel doesn’t speak about it, just wordlessly enters the shared apartment and immediately showers after his shifts. Emerges in cleaner clothing and makes a beeline for the hooch you keep hidden underneath a loose plank in the floorboard. Today is one of those days, he’s off at work to earn enough ration cards to make the deal of getting you and Tess medical attention to combat the sickness you’ve both come down with.
Eventually the sickness has found itself at your doorstep, catching you and Tess by surprise even with the extra caution you both exhibited around others. Makeshift masks, excessive hand washing, but it wiggled its way into your immune systems all the same.
It's been two weeks, neither of you able to work or do much beyond organize trades for him to do until dark. Both of you losing weight, with hardly any appetite and fevers that wane in intensity.
Despite feeling like the very little food you had been able to keep down all day was making its way back up your esophagus, you push yourself up from the couch where you and Tess had been going over inventory of all the items hidden in both your apartments when a soft knock sounded on the front door.
Getting a knife into your palm, a small security, you peer through the cracked peephole. A moment passes as you watch the young girl on the other side of the door fidget in her spot, looking down both sides of the hallway before down back at her interlocked hands in front of her. She looks vaguely familiar, like the girl that Joel had once given a thick handful of ration cards one random day and then every two weeks since then. The same girl that you see around the mess hall and on job sites that have to do with the more lightweight work to ensure the zone keeps up in operation.
He hadn’t said as much, but you know he watched out for her. Tried to prevent her from falling into the seedy dealings and scene of the zone that grew bigger each year. The trade of skin for ration cards and goods, for food, for protection too prominent a life for girls and women alike. Their bodies simply another thing they could offer up in order to survive another day. But you know she’s on his radar, though she had yet to set foot in your apartment or Tess’s.
And you didn’t think it was sexual, you trusted him on that front. No, it was born of a need to protect and prevent, much like the way he watched over you and Tess. Another part of the pack that he deemed important. You had asked, once when you first noticed her eyeing him up across a crowded street, if the older woman recognized her. All she knew was that the girl used to work in the speak easy sometimes frequented. That was years ago now, but you always made sure to save a portion of anything you managed to bake from the sorry excuse of supplies the cards still got you. For Joel to give to her, the errant thought of having her move in with Tess was unspoken but on all three of your minds the worse things got.
“Yes?” You crack open the door and peek through the space, but you’re opening the door completely and ushering her in as you spy the tear tracks that stain her delicate face. She’s so young, you realize, a decade younger than you for sure, two more than Joel. You idly wondered the reasoning behind his soft spot for her, but then you realize whatever spurred it also spurred the one he has for you.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know where else to go. And M-Mr. Miller said to come for him if I ever needed help. Is- is he here?” You turn back to look at Tess, her own curiosity controlled into an even expression.
“He’s run out for something after his shift, are you hurt?” You close the door firmly behind her. Securing the lock in place and taking a deep breath before you reached out to touch a gentle hand to her shoulder. She cowers, a small whimper escaping from between her pale lips. “Do you need immediate aid?”
“N-no, just…bruises that are fading,” She rubs at her shoulder, thin hand reaching up and exposing her wrist and the mottled skin there. Your eyes narrow at the sight, Tess equally, is focused on the girl now.
Fuck, she couldn’t be more than twenty…
“I-I don’t know how I was even going to tell him, so it’s probably good you two are here…” Her voice trembles, fresh tears trailing down her cheeks.
“What is it-” Tess starts, cautiously stepping into the kitchen as you usher the girl into a chair. Her knees knock together as she struggles not to bounce them or cross one over the other. The stilted way in which she pivots her hips tells you more than she had verbally so far and your chest pangs for her. Kneeling down, you gingerly place a hand on one of her knees and assure her that she’s safe here with you both. That she can tell you as much or as little as she is comfortable with, but that you need her name and at least a direction to move in.
“Jean, my name is Jean.”
“Jean, is-who did it?” You can see it in the way she’s moving, the healing that her body is still attempting to do. The bruises that have nearly faded along her neck and the way her eyes cut to every sound that neither you nor Tess caused. The older woman stands at her full height at the shift in your voice from cautious and on edge to thinly veiled anger. “Who hurt you?”
“I-it was one of the guys who I used to work for in the speak easy. He…he cornered me one evening after my shift at the kitchens. He-he-” She breaks down, her sobs creating a valley in your chest that you recall heaving yourself once upon a time. “He did this.”
Something is thrust into your hand, thin and long and plastic. You glance down at it, surprise and anger fighting for purchase as your chest blooms with something akin to fierce protection.
It’s a pregnancy test. And it’s positive.
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Designers || Leah Williamson
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Part of the Mini Williamson universe
Summary You and Leah decide to design Mini Williamson in her own special kit.
A/N Very very old fic that’s been sat in my drafts forever
You and Leah had come up with an idea for the euro final.
For the second time running, the lionesses had made it to the euro final, and for the second time running, it was Leah leading them.
It was such a big thing, that when the idea popped into your head, you knew you had to do it.
You and Leah had agreed to make Charlie a dress made out of an England kit.
Charlie loved dresses, she always had such a big smile on her face when she saw you were putting a dress on her, so you figured, why not make her a dress so she can support her mummy and aunties?
Amelia, however, was Leah’s mascot for the final, she had been throughout the whole tournament, and so she was wearing a kit.
One night, you and Leah were in bed and decided to design the dress yourselves, before taking it to a dressmakers.
When you received the dress back, you decided to not let Leah see it, hoping to make it a surprise.
When the time came to put it on Charlie, emotions were high, purely due to it being such a big day, but seeing it on her made you so happy.
You and Leah had spent so much time working on designing the dress and it looked perfect.
You couldn’t wait to see Leah’s reaction.
Charlie babbled to herself as she played with the bottom of the dress.
“Ami!” You called her as she came running into the room.
“Yes, mama?” Amelia asked before gasping. “Look at your dress, Charlie!”
Amelia’s speech had improved so much now that she was three, like there had been a massive jump between two and three.
“It looks pretty doesn’t it, just like you two.” You told Amelia, looking at your two girls as they wore their outfits.
You pressed a kiss to both their heads, before picking up Charlie and resting her on your hip.
“Ready to go see mummy?” You questioned and Ami nodded straight away, Charlie babbling, clearly saying ‘mummy’ which happened to be the latest word she’d learnt to say.
The final whistle had blown, England had won the euros again.
Leah fell to the floor crying, as you watched her with tears streaming down your face.
“Mummy win!” Ami cheered, hugging Amanda, who was sat next to her.
Once Leah had celebrated with her teammates, you were the first one she went to.
She enveloped you in a hug, before kissing you deeply.
“I’m so proud, le. So so proud.” You whispered as you rested your forehead on hers.
“Thank you, love. Hi, baby girls.” Leah said, hugging Ami and taking Charlie in her arms.
“Mummy you won!” Amelia cheered again, as Leah nodded with a big smile, moving Charlie to one arm so she pick up Ami too.
She kissed both of them on their cheeks as they both laughed.
“Look at your dress, Charlie. Don’t you look gorgeous.” Leah said, looking at Charlie’s dress. “We’re good designers, aren’t we?” Leah joked, and you agreed.
“Mummy, we go on pitch? Me go see auntie lessi.” Amelia asked and Leah nodded, picking her up and heaving her over the barricade.
Beth then came over to take Charlie too, putting her on the floor and helping her walk over to the rest of the team.
“At least we know that if your career somehow ends suddenly, we know you can be a designer.” You joked, as Leah wrapped her arm around your waist pulling you closer.
“As long as you’re my business partner.” Leah said and you hummed.
“Of course.”
“Hey! Why does Ami have Russo on the back of her shirt?” Leah questioned, her jaw wide open as her signature frown, that both your daughters had, appeared on her face.
“Ami insisted that she wore auntie lessi’s shirt. I had to force her to wear a Williamson one before she walked out the tunnel. As soon as she got to the sidelines, she made me put her Russo one on.” You explained, watching Leah’s face turn red with anger.
You laughed at her anger, watching her jump the barrier before jogging over to Amelia.
“Amelia Williamson! Why have you got that shirt on? Amelia, don’t you run away.”
Ami then pushed Leah to the floor where the confetti was, coating her head to tow in confetti.
Leah gently took ami in her arms, pulling her down too.
Charlie came over laying down before rolling in it.
You couldn’t help but smile at the scene in front of you.
Your three girls laughing and smiling away.
“Y/N, come!” You heard Leah shout as she gestured for you to come to them.
You rolled your eyes with a smile, before jumping the barrier and walking to them.
Leah tackled you to the floor, you landing on top of her.
You smiled at her confetti covered face before leaning down and connecting your lips.
“Children here.” You heard Amelia say, resting her hands on her hips, before looking at Leah, the two of you laughing.
“She gets her attitude from you.” Leah told you, and you smacked her arm lightly.
“No she doesn’t.” You defended, standing up and resting your hands on your hips, just like Ami did.
“Really? I find that hard to believe.”
103 notes · View notes
howlett-variants · 3 days ago
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"I've got you"
a/n: I love Charlie Kenton sm, he deserves more love. Also, I haven't written an X reader fic in like 10 years forgive me.
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Prompt: Charlie gets his ass kicked, thankfully he has you to patch him up! Words: 2,975 Tags: gn!reader, post movie, hurt/comfort, Charlie is very dog coded to me and I don't know how to tag things anymore
You could have never guessed your day to go like this. Work had been boring as all hell. The only thing keeping you going was the thought of getting to hang out with those you cared about most over at Tallets Gym. Bailey was basically your closest friend at this point. She was kind and caring but could always match your energy- especially if that energy was being angry with Charlie. Speaking of Charlie, seeing him was always one of the best parts of your day. Even when he was being an idiot, or impulsive, or both- he always knew how to put a smile on your face. Which was much needed after a boring day at work. You even looked forward to seeing Max most days. The kid was the spitting image of his father when it came to personality, which definitely had its downsides. Max was probably the most independent eleven-year-old you’ve ever met- he was always determined to do stuff by himself. Even if he ended up asking you or Bailey for help in the end. Things were never boring with the Kentons. 
Today would be no exception.
Your phone rang mere moments before you were about to park in front of the rundown gym.
“Hel-” You started, but were quickly cut off by the sound of your good friend Bailey in a panic.
“Charlies hurt.” “What?” “Max just called, and he’s freaking out-” You could hear her voice quicken on the other end. 
“Slow down Bail, where are they?” “Some gas station twenty minutes outside of town, they were on their way back from a fight and-” She gave you a few more vague responses, clearly not sure of the situation herself, but that was okay. You could work with that. There weren’t that many gas stations on that side of town, plus it would be hard to miss Charlie’s massive green truck. 
Ten minutes, and a few potential road laws broken, later- you finally spotted the truck. You pulled up next to them, attempting to not fully slam on your brakes. Your panic had slowly grown over the last few moments, and panicked driving is not a good idea. 
Tossing the door open in a quick motion, you stepped out and ran over to see Charlie sitting on the tailgate of his truck. Max was next to him, holding a makeshift ice pack to his face. 
“How’s he doing?” You plant your feet in front of them, doing your best to keep your arms at your side to not fret over him. At the sound of your voice, Max looked over with a smile. Charlie attempted to look at you, but winces the moment he tried to open his eyes.
“I’m fine- just a black eye.” Charlie replied weakly, still unable to fully open his eyes. 
“He might need stitches this time.” Max’s smile fades, returning to a worried expression. 
“Let me see.” Max nods before jumping off of the tailgate, making room for you to take his place. You carefully move to sit next to him, close enough for your legs to touch. You reach a hand up to his face, slowly peeling away the ice pack. It took everything in you to not visibly tense at the rather nasty wound on his face. Whoever beat him up this time actually used a weapon, brass knuckles, if you’d have to guess. He had a large gash right next to his eyebrow, reaching almost to his ear, as well as a black eye and numerous other bruises all over his neck. You can only imagine the amount of bruises he was hiding on the skin you couldn’t see. “Yeah…that’s going to scar. Where’s your first aid kit?”
“Don’t have one…” He mumbled.
“Come again?” You can’t help but sigh, “With how much you get beat up-”
He avoids your glare and refuses to respond, which is Charlie for ‘You’re right, but I will not admit it’. With a slight roll of your eye, you reach into your back pocket with your free hand and take out your wallet to hand to Max. “They should have bandages, or at least some cotton balls I can use to stop the bleeding. Grab what you can- if nothing else, your dad can save it for later.”
The kid nodded as he took your wallet before running back into the gas station. It probably wasn’t your smartest idea to just hand your wallet to an eleven-year-old, but you knew Max would at least grab what you asked- even if he came back with a few extra snacks.
Seconds after he left your eye-line, you heard Charlie suck in a sharp breath. The sound caused your full attention to turn back to the man next to you. He was no longer sitting upright, but instead leaning on the side of the truck as if the metal wall was the only thing holding him upright. You were quick to notice the stiffness in his shoulders was far worse than a few seconds ago, and you didn’t have to ask why to know what was going on in his head. 
“Char, the kid just watched you get your ass kicked- again. You don’t have to act all tough. Hell your face is bleeding like some kind of horror movie victim. He knows that you’re not alright.” It broke your heart to see him like this. He was always putting on a front of the big strong unfeeling douchebag, but you knew better. You also knew better than to question it. Max was a strong kid, but he was still just a child. No kid should have to watch this dad getting beat up as much as Charlie did. You moved your hand from his face to his shoulder, using your thumb to rub soothing motions in a small attempt to comfort him. 
“How’d you get here so fast?” He questioned, completely avoiding your concerned comments.
“Max called Bailey. Bailey called me. Here I am.” You moved your free hand up to his face, attempting to inspect the wound a bit more. Fingers lightly holding his chin, making it easier for you to move his head if needed. He couldn’t help but lean into the small touches. “I think I still have some pizza in the car. It’ll be cold by now though.”
He let out a light chuckle, mouth struggling to turn into a smile without pain. “Maybe when my face is done bleedin’ out.”
You smile at him, grateful to hear that his sense of humor was still intact. The moment he winces again, your smile falls. “What the hell happened?”
“Just some assholes that I used to owe money to, what else-” He pouts, “I would have been able to our run em but-”
“Max…”
He didn’t have to even look at you for you to understand what he meant. From what Bailey had told you in the past, getting his ass kicked out of the ring was nothing new for Charlie. He was constantly coming back to the gym with cuts and bruises, and the occasional broken bone, but ever since he regained custody of his son, he’s tried to be a lot more careful. He had always been reckless and almost uncaring when it came to what happened to him, but now he had someone to protect. Thankfully, the Atom fights had helped pay off practically every debt he had ever owed, but there were still some people who had it out for him that couldn’t give less of a shit if his son was watching or not. 
The hand on his face slowly moved to the back of his neck, before you carefully pulled him closer to you. You positioned his head to rest comfortably on your shoulder. Your other arm snaked around his back, holding him in a secure hug. “It’s okay…I’ve got you.”
Your hushed tone was all he needed to melt completely into your hold. His face hid in the crook of your neck, like it was the only thing keeping him in one piece. His arms found their way around you, holding onto the fabric of your shirt like a lifeline. Charlie Kenton was many things. He was a boxer who had seen his fair share of violence, as well as a man who routinely went to shady places for robot fights, but he was also a father who had no idea what he was doing. To him, there was nothing more terrifying than the idea of his son watching him bleed out (and potentially die). Whoever had attacked him this time didn’t hold back. He honestly didn’t know if he was going to make it out in one piece. 
He was in pain and scared shitless, but you were there. You kept him grounded, like you always knew what to do or say to keep his anxieties at bay. You were his rock, and he was yours. The two of you had this unspoken thing that not even Bailey dared to bring up to either of you. You could feel your shoulder becoming damn, from both tears and the blood from his wound- but you didn’t care. The stains would come out, and even if you ended up having to throw the shirt away, it didn’t matter. What mattered was the man quietly sobbing in your arms. 
He would never admit it, but Charlie cried a lot. Never in front of you or anyone else, but you’d always catch him silently crying to himself in the middle of the night. You knew that Bailey and Max were aware, but all three of you knew better than to mention it to him. Anytime that you gathered the nerve to ask him if he was alright in the middle of his crying session, he’d just yell at you to go away. You knew he never meant to actually yell at you. Normally he’d even apologize the next morning with a vague ‘sorry about last night’ while avoiding any actual questions about whatever he had been upset about. But right now, he didn’t care. There was nothing he needed more than you. 
Time passed by in a small blur. The only sound you could hear was Charlie’s heavy breathing finally beginning to regulate itself to the sound of your light humming. His arms were still wrapped around you, but the grip on your shirt had loosened. You still had one arm around his back, the other had found its way to his hair- playing with the short brown strands. 
“I got some stuff!” Max’s sudden voice startled you both. You turned your head in his direction to see that his hands were filled with an assortment of bandaid boxes, a bag of cotton balls, and a few snacks that he bought with your money (which you fully expected would happen). Charlie’s body went stiff under your arm at the sound of his son’s voice, embarrassed to be caught in such a vulnerable state. “This is all they had.”
“Thanks kiddo,” you smiled at him. The arm around Charlie’s middle let go, so you could reach out for the ‘medical’ supplies. He silently mourned the loss of the touch the second you let go. You placed the items next to you before your gaze returned to Max. “Why don’t you sit up front and update Bailey, tell her we’ll be back in a little bit. I’ll get to work patching up your dad’s apparently very punchable face.”
It was a poor attempt at a joke, but Max still smiled. Charlie made a mental note to thank you later for the small attempt at saving what was left of his pride. Thankfully, Max obliged and left to go sit in the front seat, giving you two a bit of privacy.
Using both your hands, you carefully lifted his head off of your shoulder. He made a small noise of disappointment as you pulled him from his safe spot. You couldn’t help but chuckle to yourself. You held his face in between your palms as you examined his face one more time. His eyes were a little swollen from the crying, and he looked like he was about to fall asleep. The adrenaline must have finally worn off. 
“Okay, I’ll do what I can, but I’m taking you to actually get this checked out first thing in the morning.”
“Fine by me.” his words were beginning to slur together. Something told you that you’d be the one driving the truck back to town tonight. It would be safer to leave your old car than the massive truck holding one of the most popular boxing robots at the moment. 
Your humming continued as you cleaned up the drying blood from his cheek. There was only so much you could do with the limited items (and skill) you had, but you stayed focused. With the bleeding stopped and wiped away, the wound wasn’t as bad as you originally thought. It would still leave a nasty scar, but it was small enough that a trip to an actual medical professional could wait. As you worked, you could feel Charlie’s head become heavy in your hands.
“You falling asleep on me?” You teased lightly.
“mmmno.” It was more of a noise than an actual word. 
“Almost done, big guy. Then you’re welcome to crash on your little cot back there.” Between the warmth of your hands, the soft touches, and your quiet humming as you worked- Charlie was practically melting. Bailey and you liked to joke that he was like a dog sometimes, from the bursts of impulsive energy, to the unapologetic joy over the smallest things, and of course his mastery of the ‘puppy dog eyes’ that he often used on you and Bailey to get what he wanted. He would always scoff or roll his eyes whenever you would tease him or whenever you called him a dog. You couldn’t help it, especially at times like this- with his eyes comfortably closed and melting into your every touch. It was adorable, despite the fact that you were actively cleaning up a wound. 
“Can’t sleep yet-” His body betrayed his words by interrupting his sentence to let out a yawn. “Gotta drive back.”
“Not like this, you’re not. I’ll drive.” Driving the truck wasn’t your favorite, but you have done it before. As long as you didn’t get pulled over, you could drive it home without a problem. “C’mon, let’s get you into bed before you actually pass out on me.”
With a light pat to his cheek, he dutifully allowed you to help him stand. His head immediately seeking your shoulder to lean on again. He was taller than you, but still seemed perfectly comfortable once he found the crook of your neck again. You blamed the blood loss and the crying for how touchy he was being. It’s not that he wasn’t a touchy person. He had a lack of personal space with those he was close to, but this was different. For a second, you questioned if this was even beyond him seeking you out as a source of comfort. 
Ignoring the swirl of worry and emotions you had yet to even fully admit to yourself, in your stomach, you carefully led him over to the cot inside the truck. You gave him a small nudge to sit down. He listened with only a small sound of complaint. The disappointment was short-lived. You could almost see ears perk up the moment you returned to sit by his side. 
“Thanks…for doing all this.” Standing must have woken him a little. His voice was much clearer than it was a few seconds ago. 
“It’s not like I was going to let you bleed out.” You rolled your eyes with a small smile across your lips, as you finished putting the last bandaid on his face. It was a haphazard job, but it would do the trick- at least for a few hours. 
“I know. Glad to have you on my side is all.” Your eyes moved from the collection of bandages to his eyes, feeling a little shocked by the genuine emotion they held. Charlie didn’t have a lot of people to count on. You knew that better than anyone.
“I’m happy to patch you up anytime.” Your hands left the sides of his face where you had been diligently working, moving down to find his hands. He took the hint and intertwined your fingers, giving them a light squeeze. The two of you were bonded, neither wanting to question of risk actually talking about what that bond was. You were waiting for him to say something, and he was in between being far too chicken shit and waiting for you. So many days spent dancing around either other like this. You knew, even now, that neither of you would mention the softness and tenderness from tonight’s interaction. He’d go to sleep as you drove him, and he’d wake up not remembering much of the night in the first place. Still you sat with him, foreheads pressed together, basking in each other’s company. 
“I gotta take you home, Char.” You whispered, not wanting to leave this moment yet. His grip on your hand tightened, but he still allowed you to pull away.  
“Tomorrow, let me take you to dinner.” His voice wasn’t as quiet as yours, but it was even more unsure of itself. Speaking before thinking, as always, but looking deep into your eyes this time. “As…thanks.”
You couldn’t help but smile at the offer. The two of you went out for dinner alone all the time, but something about this felt different. You gave his hand one final squeeze and planted a small kiss on his cheek before standing up. “It’s a date.”
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no-144444 · 6 hours ago
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the grid: late for a date!
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Day 29 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist
Featuring: Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris, Lewis Hamilton, George Russell, Alex Albon, Daniel Riccardo, Charles LeClerc, Max Verstappen
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Oscar Piastri: miscommunication
So, it wasn’t a date. As much as you thought it was, Lando showed up. That wasn’t uncommon for your ‘dates’ to turn into ‘Oscar and Lando time’, but it still pissed you off. You just wanted one night with your boyfriend. Not Lando’s.  
You huffed as you sat down at your vanity, carefully cleaning off your face with a wipe. 
“You’re annoyed,” Oscar stated, leaning against the door and watching you. 
“I’m not,” you sighed, truthfully just wanting to be left alone. 
“You clearly are,” he said matter-of-factly. “Talk to me.”
“I thought it was a date,” you explained sheepishly. “I was a little disappointed when Lando showed up. I thought it was just us two, y’know, since we haven’t gone out ‘just us’ in months.”
He sighed and looked down. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”
“Osc, it's fine. I’m just much annoyed with myself that I didn’t properly read the text-”
“But we should go out, just the two of us. You’re right,” he realised how little he takes you out. “Why don’t you talk to me about this?” 
“You have a lot going on,” you shrugged. “I’m not going to add to it by being a bitch about shit like this.” 
“You’re never a bitch,” his heart ached a little, how could you ever think that he’d ever be annoyed by you? He wrapped his arms around you , pressing soft kisses to your neck and whispering apologies. “I love you so much, I want to be with you as much as possible. Lando was just lonely and called me, so I said yes. I’ll say no in future, yeah?”
You nodded, feeling a lot more loved than before. 
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Lando norris: he forgot. 
It had been weeks in the planning, you both were ecstatic to get to enjoy your favourite restaurant in Brazil. You sat there for 2 hours. In the end you ordered stuff to take out and left a hefty tip for the inconvenience of your boyfriend. You texted and called him at least 20 times. No fucking answer. 
When you got back to the hotel, he wasn’t there either and you started getting worried. Could he be hurt? Surely he wouldn’t forget the important date, he remembered about it last week. 
You called Oscar, scared that Lando was lying in a ditch somewhere or something. 
“Hey Y/n,” his voice came from the other side of the phone. Distantly you could hear the sound of house music playing loudly. 
“Is Lando with you?” You asked. 
“Well, he was a while ago, but now he’s going back to the hotel,” he explained. “Why?”
“Just wanted to check on you guys,” you sighed, unable to keep the disappointment out of your voice. “You all good?” 
“Yeah, I’m with Alex and Zhou, we’re just outside the club now, we’re safe, promise,” he smiled into the phone. 
“Alright, well, I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah? Be careful,” you reminded him. 
“We will,” he nodded. “See you tomorrow.”
As you hung up the phone, the door swung open and Lando appeared. Dishevelled but there. 
“Baby I am so sorry I forgot about-“
“It’s fine,” you sighed, used to the excuses by now. “It’s whatever, Lando.”
“Baby, come on, let me make it up to you,” he tried again, but you stayed unchanged on the topic. 
“Something will always be more important to you,” you mumbled. “And every single time it kills me. And I just let it. Because sadly, I love you so much that I let you treat me like this.”
“Baby that’s not-“
“We planned this months ago, Lando. And I put so much fucking effort in to looking nice for you, and you don’t show. I was so excited to have one fucking night where I wasn’t dating Lando Norris, Championship Fighter, McLaren Number One, McLarens saviour. One fucking might where I could just be a girl who got to dress up night for her boyfriend, who showed up to the date. One night when we could be normal people, that’s what I wanted, Lando.”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I have a lot on my mind…”
“Yeah, you do. Maybe we should break up.”
“W-what? You don’t mean that, right baby? Come on, I’m- we’re- you’re the best thing that’s ever fucking happened to me. I don’t wanna lose you-“
“Yeah and you don’t want to have me either! Lando, I do fucking everything for you, I’m so fucking understanding every single time you disappoint or fucking annoy me. I understand that you're going through shit, and I’m here to help you. But I cannot deal with this disrespect anymore, alright? I am worth something! Right? Like, I have to be worth more than what you’re giving me, right?” You said, breaking down. Your plan had been to just keep calm and talk tomorrow, but that clearly flew out the window. 
“I love you-“
“Do you?! Really?!”
You were both silent. 
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Lewis Hamilton: he forgot
The silence was deafening in your shared home. You sat at the table, all dressed up with nowhere to go. 
“Baby, I know I-“
“Just fuck off,” you sighed. “Go back to work, or whatever it was that held you up.”
“I wanna make it up to you, I’m sorry baby,” he sighed, wrapping his arms around you. 
You took a deep breath. “I just wanted one night,” you sighed and he nodded, feeling guiltier by the second. “Away from work and the kids, just one fucking night Lewis.”
“How about a weekend? We drop the kids off at Natalie’s and we can go away for the weekend?” He offered and pressed a kiss to your cheek.. 
“We’re busy this weekend.”
“Cancel it.”
“Cancel my promotion dinner?” You scoffed. “Cancel Ellie’s football match? Cancel half the grid coming over? Cancel Nick’s karting race?” You quested, listing off the things you had to supervise for the weekend. 
He sighed. “I’m sorry baby, I forgot-“
“Yeah. You forgot. You keep fucking forgetting,” you groaned. “I just… I want some time. I’m pissed off right now and I just want to go to bed.”
“I’ll put the kids to bed,” he nodded. “I’m sorry again.”
“You’re always sorry Lewis. Just be there, for once,” you took a deep breath. “If not for me, then for our children. Don’t ruin the relationship because of your busy schedule.” 
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George Russell: you forgot...
You walked into your shared apartment, exhausted after work. 
“Hey darling,” he smiled, taking your bags out of your hands. “You look gorgeous.”
“Thanks love,” you smiled. Then you noticed the suit he was wearing. “You look handsome, what’s the occasion?”
His face fell. “Did you forget?” 
Shit. You did. The fucking anniversary dinner. “No! Just joking!” You laughed. “Give me like 20 minutes to get ready, yeah?”
He smiled. “Alright, just remember our reservations are in a little while.”
Shit. Shit. Shit. 
You completely forgot about the plans. No gift. No dress. Nothing. 
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You sat at dinner, somehow throwing together something, only to find out it wasn’t a fucking date, but a surprise birthday party. 
Your anniversary is months away. 
“Sorry baby,” he smiled, not one bit sorry. 
“I was terrified! I thought I’d fully forgotten!” You whined, rolling your eyes. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips, a promise for more later. 
“I'm sorry darling,” he added, a small wink in one eye as he pulled you into the dance floor. 
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Alex Albon: genuinely injured
You sat in his apartment, waiting for him to finally show his face. He was 40 minutes late, and while this wasn’t a huge deal, you had made dinner which had gone cold, plus you felt your time should be at least worth a text. 
The door finally opened and Alex walked through, well, uncoordinatedly crutched into the room, a huge boot covering his foot. 
“Holy shit, Alex,” you cursed, shocked at the sight in front of you. He blushed slightly. 
“Yeah… accident prone, or whatever my mum called me. I have a few weeks off,” he chuckled. 
“What happened?” you asked, just staring down at the boot. 
“Funny story, Lando-”
“Of fucking course it was you,” you scoffed, looking at the guilty Lando standing beside him. 
“Lando accidentally ran over my foot,” he finished. 
“With what?” you asked, wondering if it was a bike or something, surely Lando was an experienced enough driver to have not driven over Alex’s foot. 
“A car,” Oscar explained. “Twice.” 
You saw red, turning your attention to Lando. “You fucking idiot!” you seethed. You chuckled. “How fucking stupid are you?”
He just giggled and shrugged. “Very?” he offered as an answer. 
“Thank you for bringing him home, now please leave before you cause any more bodily harm,” you sighed, showing Lando the door. You weren’t really mad, just shocked. 
“I’m sorry I was late,” he sighed, sitting on the couch. 
You chuckled. “You don’t have to apologise for that,” joining beside him. “I’m sorry you broke your foot.”
“Lando broke my foot,” he corrected and you just laughed and pressed your lips against his. 
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Daniel Riccardo: he forgot 
You walked into your shared apartment with your head held low. He’d forgotten your anniversary. 
“Baby? Where have you been? Are you alri- you look beautiful,” he stood up, walking over to you. You looked up and he saw the tears streaming. That sinking feeling he’d had all day, the one that told him he forgot something, it finally clicked. He’d forgotten the date. 
“Do you know how humiliating it is when someone stands you up? Do you know how humiliating it is when that gets fucking paparazzied?”
He gasped, no way you’d been subjected to the paparazzi. “Baby I’m so-”
“Sorry? Sure, I  believe  you,” you scoffed. “Just leave me be.”
You walked off to your bedroom and he was left to think about how he could pick up the broken pieces. 
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Charles LeClerc: he’s just being a dick. 
At least he remembered the date, but the fact that he’s sitting on his phone the entire time is literally gaining you pity smiles from other girls in the restaurant. When you went to the bathroom, two girls literally called him a ‘fucking asshole’ for what he’s doing to you, and gave you their numbers so you could be friends and bitch about him. 
“Charles,” you sighed, looking down at your bowl of pasta. You weren’t exactly hungry anymore, and now you just wanted to go home instead of being publicly humiliated like this. 
He looked up from his phone for a split second. “Yeah?” straight back down. 
“Are you going to eat any time soon?” you sighed, looking at his full plate. 
He looked at his food, then picked up a fry and ate it. “Eating, see?”
You rolled your eyes. “I want to go home.” 
He finally put down his phone. “But we are having a nice date, no?” 
“A ‘nice date’ usually includes talking of some sort, and maybe just a little bit of attention from my boyfriend,” you gritted out. “This is what I was talking about, if you don’t have time for me, I’d understand Charles. Just don’t waste my time like this.”
He sighed. “I’m sorry-”
“Sorry isn’t cutting it anymore Charles, I’m not just going to wait here forever like some little fangirl who’s just ‘so blessed’ to be dating the Charles LeClerc. I love you, not you being a racing driver, not you being a model, not anything else. I love you, Charles. And I’m starting to feel like you don’t love me back.” 
“Mon ange, please listen-”
“I’m done listening, I’ll see you at home,” you said and got up, actually receiving a clap from the two girls you’d met in the bathroom. 
୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅
Max Verstappen: circumstances end it. 
You called again. And again. And again. 
No answer. As always. 
Long distance was hard, it was always going to be. Max didn’t need to make it any harder by not showing up for your phone-dates. He hadn’t called in months. He hadn’t seen you in over a year. He hadn’t done anything. He was never the first to call or text. He was never the one making the effort. He made you feel like a burden. He made you feel like shit. 
Max: Busy sorry. Can’t make it tonight. 
You: Don’t bother calling again. We’re done. 
Max: What are you talking about???
You: There’s always something more important than us. There’s always something you’d rather do. I’m so done with this shit Max. I want a boyfriend, not a fucking pen pal. I want a boyfriend who texts and calls me back. I want a boyfriend who asks about my day. I want someone who actually cares about me. 
Max: I care about you! Alright, just let me call you later, I’m at HQ right now
You: Max. I. Am. Done. Don’t fucking call me, don’t text me, don’t visit me. Let me live my life in peace. 
Max: Is that really what you want?
A tear fell down your cheek as you read the message. You wanted Max, but you knew you could never truly have him, he’d always be married to his craft, always be more in love with winning than he’d ever been with you. 
You: Yes. 
You have now blocked this user. 
You had to think about yourself.
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qveerthe0ry · 2 days ago
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The D-Files
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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
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