#mulder smut

[internet-sadass]

Can't Keep My Mind (Or Hands) Off You (Fox Mulder x pregnant!female reader)

Blurb: Mulder can't keep his mind, or hands, off you now he's got you pregnant, which leads to a little lunch break fun in his car.

Warnings: smut, car sex, pregnant sex?, breeding kink

A/N: If anything about pregnancy in here is not realistic, oops, I have not been pregnant and I tried my best to research the symptoms etc. Also, the reader works at with the FBI but doesn't work with Mulder on the X Files. She does come and do admin work for him (like photocopying and bringing him coffee) because that's what a good partner does 😘

"Okay, so I managed to photocopy these photographs for you. They're not the best quality, but I'd say they're passable. I mean, you can still make out the shape of a figure in the tree line. I'm guessing that's what you need them for, right? Identifying weird humanoid figures." 

Mulder nearly dropped the folder he was holding. 

"You're not wearing a bra." He stated, completely matter-of-factly, despite how he stared at you.

It was true: you had forgone a bra that morning and opted for a white vest under your blouse instead. Your breasts were constantly aching now you were well and truly into your first trimester. Wearing a bra meant you would wince all day and be unable to focus on anything except how sore your chest was and how much you couldn't wait to tear your bra off as soon as you got into your car at the end of the day. But today, you weren't in the mood to suffer hours of feeling like someone was squashing your already tender breasts constantly, so no-bra it was.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes playfully at Mulder as you set the thick pile of photocopies on his desk.

"You're observant this morning. Did you listen to anything I just said? Or do you need me to repeat that all while you," You tilted his chin up so his eyes met yours rather than admiring the twin peaks of your pert nipples against your blouse. "Keep your eyes up here." 

Mulder placed his hands on your waist, running them down over your hips. Since you'd shown him the four identical positive tests and the doctor had confirmed that you were indeed pregnant, he'd found it incredibly hard to keep his hands away from you. Everything he'd loved about you and your body was amplified tenfold now. And right this instant, your significantly fuller breasts, the healthy flush across your cheeks, and your pretty eyes staring up at him were destroying his normally undying devotion to his job. 

"Yeah, yeah, I heard you, don't worry. The photocopies. Thank you, sweetheart." You were pulled closer to him, very much breaking the 'no touching' rule you had agreed on to prevent the pair of you from losing your jobs over inappropriate workplace behaviour. "More important is, why aren't you wearing a bra? You're not, you know,” He lowered his voice, “lactating?" 

You laughed, shaking your head.

"Nope, not yet. Going to be another few months before that happens. They're just sore, that's all, and wearing a bra is getting pretty intolerable. So, no bra." 

As you explained, Mulder’s hands wandered over the changing contours of your body, settling, as they always did, on the subtle hump of your pregnant belly. Even if he couldn't feel anything, since the baby was no bigger than a plum at this stage, he felt an instinctual need to place his hands protectively over the warmth of your lower stomach. Sometimes, he swore he felt something stirring within you, but he knew it was just his very wishful thinking. 

Snapping back into the present moment, Mulder recalled that you said that your chest was hurting.

"Can I make them hurt less? Please." He whispered, hands drifting up to cup just below your breasts. He leaned close to you, kissing your cheek so softly that his lips barely met your skin. 

You shivered at his touch, wanting nothing more than to feel his hands on your sensitive flesh, to have his mouth on your skin, kissing over your sensitive areolas. Another kiss was placed on your cheek, making you groan. As much as you, and presumably Mulder, wanted to take the day off and spend the whole time rolling around in bed, you knew that would have to remain a fantasy. 

"Later. I promise. As soon as we get home, I'm all yours." You placed your hands on his chest, smoothing his shirt. "We can last until the end of the day, can't we?"

Mulder wasn't sure he could last that long. How could he if you were walking about looking so damn irresistible and beautiful and full? 

Clearing his throat, he finally released your body from his protective grasp. 

"We can, yes." He lifted the photocopies you'd made. "Especially if I have to go take a look at this sasquatch. Keep my mind occupied." 

‘And off your gorgeous body’ , He added mentally. 

***

"Oh, please be gentle- ah, careful!- please be gentle with me, Fox." You whimpered, arching your back against Mulder's torso as he pulled your vest up over your breasts, catching on your nipples, making them sting. His hands settled on your breasts, cupping them, weighing them in his hands. They certainly felt bigger to him, filling up more of his hands than before. 

"I'll be gentle, don't worry. I'll be so gentle with you, doll." He whispered back to you, brushing a thumb over one of your nipples, making you keen and squirm against him. After many hours of being unable to think of anything but you, he was glad to finally get his hands on your body and touch it as much as he (and you, of course) wanted. As much as it was your body that was making him harder and harder every passing second, the way you begged him to be gentle with you and your heightened reactions to his touch only added fuel to the fires of his arousal. 

The pair of you hadn't made it to the end of the day. When Mulder got a minute, he found you and nearly dragged you out to his car. He'd driven to a slightly more private place than the bureau car park, and both of you moved to the backseat, kissing each other like a pair of teens who'd finally got the house to themselves and were free from the prying eyes of their parents. Now you sat on Mulder’s lap as he touched you, drawing all sorts of pretty sounds and whispers from you by just lightly touching your tender and aching chest. 

Every caress, every careful touch of your tender breasts was a sweet mix of painful and pleasurable. You were in ecstasy, arching your back, grinding against Mulder's thighs, begging him to ‘stop’ and ‘keep going’ simultaneously. The sensation of him sucking and kissing at your neck only made you more desperate and aroused. Though you winced whenever your flesh was squeezed, your eyes almost rolled back into your head when he rolled his thumbs over your nipples, drawing circles on them just as he did with your clit every time you two got intimate. Your climax felt embarrassingly close, considering he’d done nothing more but grope your breasts and kiss your neck. The fact you could feel his erection, so hard it was almost painful for you to be sitting on, only added to how turned on you were. 

"P-please...I want more of you. Touch me more." You panted out, seizing one of Mulder’s hands and moving down under your hiked-up pencil skirt. He pushed your panties aside and slid the tips of his fingers along your leaking slit. Thick, creamy arousal gathered on his fingers and leaked onto his trousers, staining them with a prominent damp patch. 

"God, you're so wet." Mulder mused as he slid two fingers into you. There was no resistance whatsoever, as your insides welcomed the intrusion of his fingers, twitching around them. You groaned and bucked against his fingers as they pressed up into the most sensitive part of your insides. 

"A-all because of you." You said, struggling to speak as you couldn't focus on much else except how good it felt to have your pussy spread open by Mulder’s fingers. 

He chuckled, scissoring inside you before pumping his fingers in and out of you at a steady pace. 

"That's not true; it's not all my doing. It's because of your hormones, too." 

As he toyed with your pussy and rolled your clit under his thumb, slick leaked out, soaking his hand and the leg of his trousers. You writhed about on his lap, grinding against his stiff length. It was Mulder’s turn to moan as your movements threatened to make more pre-cum leak from his slit and wet his boxers. He wanted to be inside you so badly, especially as he could feel how wet and pliable your pussy was right now. A whine left your lips as he slid his fingers out of you.

“You’re so needy, aren't you? It’s cute.” He mumbled as he guided you to lie across the backseat. Placing one knee on either side of your hips, he straddled you, leaning down to kiss you as he undid his belt.

You smirked against his kisses.

“Speak for yourself. You can’t even pause to take your pants off. That desperate to be inside me.” You whispered back to him. 

Mulder didn’t fight back with words. Inside, he moved his mouth from your lips to your nipples, running his tongue over one of them, swirling around the hard nub. You winced and groaned, your body unable to decide whether it liked the sting of your oversensitive buds being touched in such a way. Seeing your reaction, he moved to the other nipple, bringing a hand up to gently squeeze your breast and circle his thumb over your now wet nipple. You writhed about under him, switching between arching your back, pressing your chest up to him, and shrinking away, trying to escape but finding no way to roll away from him without falling off the seat. 

Feeling as though he had ‘tortured’ you enough and got his fill of toying with your gorgeous chest that had been distracting that whole day, Mulder lifted your hips, lining your entrance up with his weeping tip. He entered you, earning a sharp gasp of pleasure from you as you wrapped your legs around his waist, forcing him to stay hilted deep inside you. 

This was what Mulder had been thinking about all morning. Even with a particularly promising case to chase up, all he could think about was you and being inside your intoxicating tight, wet heat. As much as he wanted to draw out the process of rutting into your velvety insides and feeling you clamp around him as you said his name over and over, he simply couldn’t hold back. He pounded into you, filling the car with the slap of skin on skin and the sickenly wet sounds of his cock spearing open your soaking lips. You looked so perfect below him; your pupils blown out, your skin sheening with a light layer of sweat, your neat office makeup beginning to run as tears squeezed from your eyes, your full breasts bouncing with every thrust of his hips. To top off the view of you, looking more beautiful than ever, the way you were saying his name every time he hit your deepest and most sensitive spot was something he knew he’d replay in his head whenever he couldn't be with you. You swung from breathing out his name in pants to calling it out to barely whispering it as your orgasm broke and made you fall apart under him. He already knew he loved you, but at that moment, as you said his name in a barely audible tone and looked up at him with doe-eyes full of adoration, it felt like that love grew tenfold.

“O-oh, god, fuck, I love you.” 

Words fell out of Mulder’s mouth, very much beyond his control, as he felt the heat of his orgasm spread from his lower belly and along his length. He felt himself fill you with spurt after spurt of his hot seed, his cock pulsing as it emptied its load into you. Reluctantly, he pulled out of you, smearing his tip over your swollen folds, unwilling to let any of his cum go to waste. 

You sat up, a wave of dizziness washing over you. Clearly, so much excitement and activity had put your delicate body under some strain, and it struggled to cope. You looked down at yourself, noticing the gradually growing puddle of cum leaking out of your entrance. The more you sat up, the more that leaked out. You groaned at the sight; it almost made you want to go another round. 

“God, you always cum so much. No wonder I got pregnant the second time we tried. Your car seats are ruined now.” You said, laughing as you forced yourself to sit fully upright and start making yourself look presentable again.

Mulder shook his head at you, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“They’re leather, so that won’t stain or mark them. And aren't you glad we didn’t have to keep on trying to get you pregnant?” He said, nudging you.

You rolled your eyes in mock annoyance at his remark.

“I don’t think either of us would have minded it taking more than just two times without a condom. Not that we need condoms or an excuse to fuck like rabbits anymore.” You joked, helping re-do Mulder’s tie for him, kissing the tip of his nose.

***

Scully was waiting for Mulder when he rushed back into his office, still looking much more dishevelled than a man coming back from a completely average and normal lunch break should look. 

"Mulder, where were you?" She asked, looking him up and down, folding her arms like a parent would do to a misbehaving child.

"Um...Lunch." Mulder fumbled with his answer, knowing as soon as it left his mouth that there was no way in hell that Scully would believe that he’d just been away getting lunch.

"For over an hour? It took you that long to get lunch?" She pressed, closing the door to his office as he searched about his desk for the photocopies of the sasquatch you’d made him earlier. 

There was a long and uncomfortable pause as Mulder stared at the photocopies in his hand, trying to think of a way to answer Scully’s question. At this point, he knew it was basically pointless to carry on giving her excuses; she had worked out what he’d been up to the minute she saw him. Finally, he thought of a (pathetic) reason for why he’d disappeared for nearly two hours. 

"There was a queue. A long one." 

[luvfo00l]

Imagine dating Spencer Reid omg

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[chellestrash]

After work

Fox Mudler x F!Reader summary: You decide to make the unwinding after work a bit more interesting for Mulder warnings: teasing, mentions of smut, implied smut. Just something short, sweet and fun for the end of the year. word count: 2.2K a/n: this is me trying to get out of my writing/art block. ALSO, first time writing Mulder! Thank you @chelseasdagger for editing this!

You lay on the small couch in Mulder’s apartment, resting on your side, turned to face the room as the gentle light from the TV shines onto your face. Some low budget horror movie plays quietly on the small screen, but to be completely honest, you don’t pay much attention to it, choosing to have it on as a means of killing time. You usually finish your work before Mulder does, even on the off chance he might leave the office at a normal hour. Killing time until you get to see him in the evening wasn't an unusual thing for you now you didn't mind it.

A cheap gag in the movie makes you sigh quietly before you look away, glancing up at the small window above Mulder's desk. You frown, suddenly realizing the late hour. 

You check the time, squinting at the clock on the bookshelf next to the sofa, before glancing at the phone on the desk. 

The thought of calling him passes by your mind, but you brush it off quickly. You weren't too worried about him, not today, the case him and Scully have been currently working on didn't seem particularly dangerous or high risk, at least not from what he's been able to share with you over the phone. 

The subtle sound of house keys on the other side of the door to the apartment makes you smile, perking your head up and turning to face him.

“Well, well, well…look who's here.”

He speaks first, pretending he wasn't expecting to see you there. 

“You mind telling me how you managed to get into my apartment, ma’am?”

Rolling your eyes at the tease, you turn away to face the TV again.

“I broke in using the keys you gave me.”

You explain without taking your eyes off of the movie, snuggling into the pillow harder while he pulls the work jacket off his shoulders and makes his way over to the couch. 

“Well, damn.”

He mumbles quietly, his usual monotone voice makes the corner of your lips pull up slightly.

“I need to be more careful about handing out my spare keys, huh? I mean, what is this? It's like anyone can just walk in, lay on my couch and make themselves at home.”

“Oh, anyone?”

You raise your eyebrow, glancing up at him in an accusatory manner.

“Well…”

His lips push into a small pout.

“You got me, I give up.”

You breathe out a small laugh as he leans down, pressing his lips to the side of your head gently before moving away. He loosens the tie around his neck and tosses it off to the side before he unbuttons the top couple of buttons on his shirt.

“So…”

He starts after a moment once you pull your legs closer to your chest to make room for him on the couch by your feet. He sits down, lifting your legs up slightly just to rest them gently in his lap.

“What are we watching?”

He asks, fingers slowly rubbing up and down your calves.

“Ummm…not sure. Killer clowns, I think?”

“UUUuu, spooky.”

Mulder hums, unimpressed, and you chuckle at the reaction. There's a pause and you both actually pay attention to the movie for a short while.

“Aliens?”

You glance over at him, catching the small smile when you ask the work related question.

“No um… no, it was vampires, actually.”

He explains and you nod.

“Real ones?”

The smile widens as you seem genuinely interested. At least somewhat.

“Well…technically, yeah, you could say that but, you know.”

“No evidence?”

He shrugs.

“No evidence.”

“I mean, it's a possibility, right? You've handled cases like that before.”

You state, and Mulder nods, agreeing with you, his hand slowly rubbing over your thigh. He turns away from the TV, now looking directly at you.

“Do you think I should remind you that that is classified government information, you technically know nothing about, huh?”

“Oh, I'm soooorry.”

You talk back, head now propped up in your hand, face turned away from the movie you found yourself no longer interested in watching.

“Guess I just overheard it when you were talking in your sleep.”

“Hey!’

Mulder reacts immediately, and you can't help the laugh leaving your body when he pulls you up and into his lap with a slightly offended expression.

“.... I talk in my sleep?”

He asks, hands rubbing over your lower back while you throw your leg onto the other side of him, straddling his thighs in effect.

“Oh, not at all.”

You mumble quietly, pushing a couple strands of hair that fell forward onto his forehead away from his face with a soft smile, and he offers a small one in return.

“You know what? If I didn't know you any better, I would've said that didn't sound too convincing.”

He points out in the quiet, monotone voice, and you shrug your shoulders softly.

“I mean, I could’ve just read your mind, and you'd never know.”

“Oh, yeah?”

He asks with a slightly raised eyebrow.

“You're changing your confession now?”

He teases in a typical Mulder manner, and your smile grows bigger as you tilt your head to the side, letting him continue after a moment.

“So what-what you're trying to say is I work a case all week, and then I come back home to relax, and now I have another X-file on my hands? Is that what you're trying to say?”

You smirk, glancing up at him innocently.

“Oh, I'm not trying to say anything except that I missed you.”

He smiles so big, his teeth shine in the light of the TV screen.

“Me? You, missed ME?”

You hum quietly, confirming your confession as you rub your hand up along his chest.

“Well, that's good to know. Why didn't you call to tell me earlier, hmm?”

“Didn't want to interrupt you at work.”

You explain yourself, and he shakes his head gently before whispering your name softly. 

“You are the only person who I want to interrupt my work, okay?”

His thumb brushes over your cheek, and you lean into the touch, staring into those dark brown, puppy dog eyes. 

“Okay.”

“So you missed me?”

He goes back to your earlier point, and you breathe out a small laugh.

“I need to try and remember that next time I'm at the office, huh?”

“I mean.”

You brush your hand over his shoulder and down his arms.

“I wouldn't complain.”

You shift your position in his lap, and he grunts, feeling the weight of your body now directly between his legs, his grip on you tightening slightly. 

“Oh, but I know you have your vampires and aliens and things you need to deal with over there.”

You speak softly, your fingers gently tracing over the shirt. Your head tilts to the side slightly as you try to make sure your words actually reach him. His eyes jump around your face as you talk, stopping at your lips for longer than they would in a usual conversation before he tilts his head down, eyes now fixed on the spot where your body presses against him between his legs. His hand moves up your back, pushing at the hem of your shirt.

“Hey.”

You start again when he doesn't respond.

“Earth to Mulder?”

“Hmm?”

He mumbles, questioning what you've just said, clearly too lost in the situation to pay actual attention to what's being said.

“When did you stop listening?”

“What?”

He blinks a couple of times before frowning, offended that you’d question his ability to listen to you…under the circumstances.

“Oh, I actually heard everything, for your information.”

He states confidently, and you raise your eyebrows, doubting his words.

“Oh, you did?”

He nods, slipping his hand right under your shirt, his palm flat against your bare back now.

“Yep, everything, yeah. Loud and clear.”

Still slightly out of it, he nods again quickly, doing his best to sound as convincing as possible despite the evidence you feel, oh so clearly, pressing against your body from underneath you.

“So, what did I say?”

You push.

“You said you missed me.”

He starts, and you can't really argue with that.

“And then you also mentioned how I am the best looking federal agent you ever dated, I'm pretty sure.”

Not giving you much time to disagree, or call him out, he raises you off of his lap, swiftly helping you lay back down on the couch. You lay under him as he leans closer to you, his hands playing with the hem of your shirt, his eyes stuck on yours. 

“I don't think I said that.”

You frown.

“But you said you missed me.”

He points out again.

“And you called me an X-File.”

You mumble, unimpressed, and he laughs, shaking his head before it hangs low above your chest.

“I mean, you could argue that was a compliment? Maybe?”

You roll your eyes, a smile back on your face as you decide to let him have it this one time.

“Okay, yeah, that's what I'll do.”

You glance down, slowly raising your knee up, nudging at the bulge in his gray slacks. 

Mulder hums quietly, grinding his hips down slightly as a response to your move. His hands linger over your body, one now under your shirt, the other on the side of your neck.

“Yeah?”

He asks, his voice soft, his touch gentle but impatient.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah and-”

He leans down, pressing his lips against your neck, and you tilt your head back slightly in response, a silent invitation for him to continue.

“I think I deserve some extra credit.”

He mumbles, his words breaking up between the kisses. He slowly moves lower and lower down your torso as he pulls the fabric of your shirt up to expose more and more of your skin, until finally pulling the fabric off and over your head. He tosses the shirt off to the side and his lips find their way back to your body, right above the waistband of your jeans.

“Credit for?”

You glance back down, your hands pushing through his hair when he looks back up into your eyes, lost in the moment, in the kisses and in the feel of your body under his.

“Creativity?”

You laugh, head falling back down onto the couch, fingers still in his hair as you feel his lips back on your body.

“Yeah, okay, I'll give you that.”

You purr softly. As gentle as possible, you scratch at the back of his neck, the short hair prickling the tips of your fingers softly. He lets out a satisfied hum, resting his head right below your belly button, facing you with his eyes directly on yours. You push your hips up slightly, feeling his fingers brush over the sides of your body, and he glances down between your legs before turning his head up to look towards your face again.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, you get extra points, Agent Mulder. Now c'mere.”

Instructing him to move closer to you, you push your lips against his when his face is inches away from yours. He moans into the kiss, and in response you do the same as the kiss deepens more and more. Feeling his touch firmer on your body now, you reach down, palming the bulge through the fabric of his pants. There's a loud grunt, he breaks the kiss, his lips parted, eyes closed as his lips curl up into a big smile.

“Well, good job, me.”

He mumbles quietly, tracing his hand down your body, fingers curling under the waistband of your jeans while his big, brown eyes open and find yours once again. 

“I think maybe-maybe I should try to earn more of these points, huh?”

Mulder asks, his thumb rubbing over the skin above your jeans.

“I think you really should.”

You agree quickly, nodding and pushing your hips up slightly at the same time.

“You got any-”

He pauses for a moment, placing a wet kiss on the skin right under your belly button, and you feel the warmth between your legs grow significantly stronger.

“Any idea how I could do that?”

He kisses the same spot again, then moves slightly lower, then lower and lower again before working the zipper open. Slowly pulling the fabric down your thighs, he brushes his lips over the newly exposed skin, and a moan slips past your lips.

He chuckles loudly at the sound, shaking his head when you look back down with a soft smirk.

“Oh, Agent Mulder, I think you know very well how you can do that.”

“Oh, yeah?”

He asks, in a lighter tone this time.

“I mean, I'm pretty much just guessing here, I-”

He quickly glances between your two bodies.

“I have precisely zero idea what I am doing here right now.”

You scoff loudly, pushing his face away and letting your head fall back onto the couch again.

“Too much sarcasm, too little action there, Mulder.”

You squirm impatiently under his body, hungry from the promise of pleasure.

“Copy that.”

He nods quickly, the big smile never leaving his face for even a second before he buries his face between your legs.

[postmodernbeliever]

little darling- fox mulder x female reader (SMUT OH MY GOD…)

fox mulder knows how badly you want to be touched, to be taken care of, and he is obsessed with being the first and only guy to do it.

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my ao3 | word count: 6,071

content tags: smut, smut so good in my brain it came out poetic?, loss of virginity, virginity kink, dom fox mulder, protective gentle extremely horny fox mulder, embarrassment, sexual fantasy, plus size reader gets sooooo much love, im blushing just posting this aaaaaaa, oh some religious bits bc catholic girls are freaky and also his sex is THAT good, cross-posted on ao3

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

fox knew it was wrong, and he didn’t care. he knew how he thought about you, how he touched you in his mind, how he wanted to possess you was culpable- but then again, how shameful could it truly be? how bad was it to want to take care of you, to teach you the right way, to want to show you how good love is supposed to feel? well, maybe it wasn’t completely pure, because he nearly came untouched just thinking about you sometimes, but he just couldn’t help himself. he wanted to. he wanted to be the one you chose to give yourself to. the only one. 

it was always in the most mundane moments, like this one, that he needed it most, which played into his guilt. soft moments where you were unaware of what you were saying or doing, clueless as to how you were making him feel. now, as you sat watching the sex scene from basic instinct while fox pretended to be filling out a case file at his desk, was one of those moments. you squirmed in your seat with a sweet blush on your cheeks, watching the slight caricature of sharon stone on top of michael douglas, pupils blown wide and trying to hide your interest. fox was doing his best not to move a muscle, but he felt like a vein would pop if he didn’t turn around to look at you. his stomach was twisting itself into hot, trembling knots just wondering what the scene was doing to you. 

you’ve been dating him for a few months now, and upon meeting him, you fell in love in a way you still didn’t understand. he did, too. he idolizes you, he holds you up above everyone else to his detriment. after the first few dates, you told him that you wanted to take the physical aspects of the relationship slow because you had personal obstacles to overcome; he promised to do so, because when you look at him, his entire world glows, and he refused to jeopardize that heaven you unraveled. but he’s learned a lot about you since then simply through deduction. the few risqué movies you’ve watched with him proved through the surprise on your face that you hadn’t seen much video porn, let alone been touched; the books you tried to hide in your purse had absurd covers with the lustful silhouettes of cowboys and prairie girls, corporate bosses and assistants, big looming over small against some dark backdrop– all of it meaning that when you were alone, you fantasized. but the most telling was when fox himself touched you, albeit innocently. it was like you’d never been touched by anything before. when fox’s fingers ghosted over your knuckles as he held your hand, you’d giggle like a schoolgirl, hiding your face in your shoulder. even better, when he brought those same hands to the soft, warm apples of your cheeks, you’d shudder, melting into his touch like you’d lost your volition. it didn't matter how he did it- if his hands were on you in some capacity, your breath hitched in your throat like a fool. 

you wanted to let him touch you. there wasn’t a thing in the world you wanted more than to let him give you all of the things you’d dreamed, all of the things he must be aching to, but it was difficult for you. it seemed no amount of love was enough to break down your walls– you’d never let anyone that close. you’d always struggled with your body and your worth, and the little dating experience you’d had wasn’t much to boast about. you weren’t what people wanted, even if you were deserving. you knew fox was different, and that to him you weren't too big or not pretty enough, but you had just about every anxiety about physical affection. he had no idea you were a virgin on top of it all, which only made the pressure greater. you just couldn’t get over the fear. but you yearned to have it, so much so that even the smallest instances set your body aflame. you had the most lewd things running through your head when fox did just about anything. once you watched the man reach for the cereal box on the top shelf in his kitchen, and his sleep shirt rode up to reveal the dark happy trail that disappeared down his pants, and you felt so dizzy you could’ve dropped dead. and whenever he was close, it was unbearable. you replayed the sensation of his strong, lean hands resting protectively over your hip at his friend’s house. you thought about the way his lips felt on your forehead so often you could’ve written a book based solely on the texture. it drove you insane, the way you wanted him, and you drove yourself insane every time you didn’t act on it. but what did you know of hands, of mouths, of letting someone see what you shroud in fabric every day? what did you know of making him feel good, too, of being worth the wait for him?

now, as you curled up on his couch, you watched michael douglas’ hand grip sharon stone’s leg. it was big, but not big like fox’s. you imagined it was your boyfriend on the television, dark and brooding, as you saw how the man dove between the blonde’s legs, starving; her back arched, propelling her hips forward into his face, and she let out a soft moan. in your head, you saw yourself on that bed, and fox as hungry. you squeezed your thighs together and gathered the blanket draped across your legs in your palms, trying not to look as overwhelmed as you felt. but the agent who listened to the heavy breathing on screen saw exactly what was happening to you. he saw the blood rushing to the tips of your ears, tinting them the color of your bitten lips; he saw the way you shifted rhythmically beneath the blanket, almost undetectable, but absolutely undeniable. fox looked up at the ceiling as if to thank the god he didn’t believe in for playing basic instinct on cable, and he stood up from the desk, stalking over to sit beside you on the couch. as his body made the cushions dip, you smiled nervously. through a cracking voice, you said, “i didn’t know this movie was all… y’know.”

‘oh, yeah, it’s pretty heavy,” fox nodded, attempting his best unassuming expression. “still good, though, huh?”

“i mean, sure,”

“yeah, i think so, too.”

fox sighed just a tad too loudly and let his hand fall on your thigh. nothing but the blanket was between his palm and your skin. you looked to him with a pleading pair of eyes, though you didn’t really know what you were pleading for. the moaning from the television got louder, and you felt so warm, and his hand wasn’t going anywhere. you had no idea what to do. fox grinned at you and let his head tilt back over the couch as he swallowed thickly. you stared at the curve of his stately neck, how his adam’s apple bobbed, and every inch of your body pined in his wake. fox gazed at you, lounged wide like a lion, and his hand slowly traveled up your thigh to the crease of your hip. he slid his fingers across the soft crevice, and you were still at a statue, stuck between craving the friction and terrified to feel it. 

“can i ask you something personal?” fox’s voice was gentle. husky.

“...mhm.”

“has anyone ever, uh,” you followed his gaze to the tv, where michael douglas was doing things that made your hands sweat. “have you ever done it like that?”

you prayed that a black hole would open up in the floor and suck you in, so you never had to admit the truth. but his hand was still in that soft spot, and his minty eyes were made of looking glass, and the image of him that fucked your mind was so boggling you were on the edge of giving up. 

“just out of curiosity,” he added, lips curling into a cheshire smile.

you ran a hand across your burning cheeks and murmured, “uh, no. no, i haven't.”

“it’s interesting, y’know, how they can make it look so real,” fox pursed his lips, pushing his hand back down your thigh to rest on your knee. 

before you could bite your tongue, you confided, “i wouldn’t really know.”

fox’s hand paused at the crest of your kneecap, a chill running down his body. he thought of you, his pretty, quiet, gentle girl, and he never once stopped to think why you were so reserved. he always blamed the little silver cross that hung from your neck and some guy from your past, but he neglected other options. but now, his mouth watered. 

“really?”

you tugged the blanket up to your face. “is that a bad thing?”

the man turned to face you, pulling your hands away to reveal the flushed face beneath. you were breathing so heavily. a need rattled his bones, one he wished he could stifle. pictures flashed in his brain- you, writhing beneath him, the feeling so new, making pretty faces as he did what the people in movies do. him, defiling you, ruining the girl you’ve been, clutching to your cross as your mouth bled with his name. maybe he was a monster, but his cock twitched in his dress pants at the humiliated expression you bore.

“no, baby, of course not!” he chuckled, “no, that’s– that’s a good thing.”

“but i-”

“everyone does things at their own pace,” 

“but…”

“but what, sweetheart? i don’t expect anything from you.” fox sweetly lied. he wouldn’t force it, but he wanted it. badly. 

“i just wish that, uh, that i had by now. sometimes. i guess.” 

your eyes darted between the television screen and the way his nimble fingers encased both of your wrists. it only took one hand for him to hold you down… what a career he could make with his other hand free. 

“have you ever tried?” 

“...no.”

“do you want to?”

you let out a nervous hum. something came over you like it always does, and you leaned over to hide in his shoulder; in a way, that was better than letting him see your face. his hand rested at the nape of your neck as he cooed, “awh, baby, it’s okay.”

“it’s not really okay,” you mumbled into his shirt. “it’s embarrassing.”

“i don’t think it is. i think it’s cute.”

you felt his hand run down your back, and you pushed yourself a little closer, so you could rest against his neck. fox kept talking since you were at a loss. 

“nothing embarrassing about that, i promise. truthfully, you’re better off. so many guys out there just wanna take advantage, y’know?” he reasoned, tracing little things at the small of your back, fingertips like pens. “probably would’ve wished you didn’t, because you’re so hard on yourself… i would hate to know you lost your virginity to some guy who didn’t care about you. not the way i do.”

the heat of your breath against his neck was maddening. everything about you was maddening. how you curled into him for protection, for reassurance, how your palms tugged at the wrinkled cotton of his work shirt because you didn’t know where to put them. the little nods of agreement you made with every opinion he voiced. he wanted to knock you on your back and fuck you right there, but he couldn’t. he couldn’t spring it on you. you had to want it, you had to let him. and he knew you wanted to let him because it was all over you. 

he asked again, “baby, do you want to?”

he raised his wandering hand to tuck your hair behind your ear, and you felt this urge inside you, an indulgence just begging to be released. acting selfishly, you pressed a kiss to the side of his neck, and beneath your lips, you felt the vibration of a little growl. fox tangled his palm in your hair, and as gently as he could, he pulled your head back so you had no choice but to look at him. 

“is that a yes?”

your stomach churned. “yes.”

“good. come on.”

fox rose from the couch and tugged you up with him. he watched the blanket fall from your legs to see that your sleep shorts had ridden up and tucked themselves in the chub of where your thighs and legs met, that sacred spot he’d touched before, and he rolled his eyes in ardor. with your shaky hand in his, the man led you into his bedroom, where he motioned for you to sit at the edge of the bed. 

“fox, i…”

“what, love?”

“i… i don’t know.”

you watched him walk over to his closet and open the doors, revealing the shuffled-around mess inside. with his back turned to you, you saw his hands disappear to unbutton the dress shirt that crumpled on his shoulders from a day’s work. as he pulled it over his head, the spotless skin of his sculpted back smiled at you. your hips were warm. 

“you’re nervous,” he said, still facing away as he threw the shirt into the basket. “i know you are. but it’s not so scary. plus, you’re with me. i’m nice, aren’t i?” “you’re very nice,” you smiled, “but you’ve done this before. you… you know so much more than i do.”

“are you sure?” fox’s laugh rumbled low in his throat, “because i’ve seen the books you read. bet you’ve got all kinds of ideas i’ve never even tried before.”

you shifted on the bed, tucking your legs into a crisscross. “w-well, that’s different!”

“no, it’s not!” the man teased, shaking his head like you were hopeless. he crossed the room, back to you, where he stood like a pillar before the bed. when you didn’t meet his gaze, he tucked his finger beneath your chin and made you. “you’ve been thinking about it for so long, haven’t you, sweetheart? about me? must be so lonely, just thinking, never doing.” 

he passed his thumb over your trembling chin, admiring your starry eyes, how they reflected so much love. you were so pretty, a pretty he couldn’t have imagined if he’d seen all the most beautiful women in the world. none of them could hold a candle to his girl. “you’re so smart, so good at handling things when they’re hard. but you never let anyone handle you, do you? not even me, baby, and i could be so good at it.”

you couldn’t control how you let him sway you. you gave yourself over, basking in the rush. he settled on his knees, so you had to look down, and he pressed his hands to where your love handles dipped, passing the skin over in his hands. 

“i’ve wanted to let you,” you sighed, “i’ve… thought about it.”

fox’s eyes, eager as a puppy’s, looked up at you as he asked, “well, when we’re in your head, where do i start?”

you shivered. “you kiss me first.”

the man decided that you deserved to have your fantasies fulfilled; if in your pretty mind you’d dreamed up a routine, then he’d follow it, and he’d prove to you that nothing was as good as the real deal. he pushed up on his knees and leaned in, thankful for his low-set bed, as he pressed his lips against yours. you disassembled against his touch; he moved with a cadence that had your head spinning, fingers behind your ears, tongue swiping against your bottom lip. you’d kissed him plenty, but never like this. never so messy, so desperate. he tasted warm, and kind, sunshine in a mouth. you let out a soft whimper as he caught your bottom lip between his teeth.

“i think you’re a bad girl in that head of yours, angel,” he mumbled into your mouth. “what do i do next up there?”

you were too afraid to say it, and you didn’t want to pull away from his lips, so instead you reached for the wrist that held his hand to your face. fox’s throat tightened as you guided his hand down to your stomach, a place you didn’t let him touch often. 

“so pretty, baby,” he admired, knowing exactly what it is you needed from him. he paraded his kisses down to your neck, where he got so much sloppier. he licked a stripe over your throat, nipping at the soft skin of your jaw, and he passed the chub of you over in his devastating hands. you keeled forward, resting your forehead against his shoulder, and he littered your ear with little pecks. “so soft. i love your tummy, y’know. how it looks when you wear those pretty dresses, and how when you wear my shirts i can see the shape. fuckin’ adorable, you have no idea. prettiest girl i’ve ever seen.”

“fox,” you whined. he was barely even touching you, but the weight of his words anchored your lungs to the floor. 

he took a little liberty and leaned down to tug your shirt up, and began brushing his lips over you, spit for paint. you let your hands wander to his hair, and your stomach flipped at the noises he made. 

“now what, sweetheart?”

“y-you… agh,”

fox pulled away, and you swooned at the sight of his pretty lips already swollen. “forgettin’ already?”

“well…” you trailed off, feeling a mental fog roll in.

fox stood up and pushed at your shoulders, tilting you back onto his bed. laying down, he had more access to pushing your shirt up and seeing you for real. he sucked at his teeth, handsome face overtaken with want; you curved like a muse beneath him, and he wondered why you hid all this body beneath clothes. you felt his hands like a compass, mapping the cascading mountain ranges and slow, dipping valleys of your hips and thighs, as if his whole world was discovering you, as if his purpose existed within the endless confines of your flesh and bones. and his hands roamed freely, nomadically, through your land, committing every road that made you shiver to memory. 

“where do you touch yourself, princess?” fox smiled. you whined, and he clicked his tongue. “come on, show me.”

your hand shook, but you rested it over your shorts, and you curled your fingers in to prove you knew how. 

“good girl. bet you know just what to do, huh?”

“mhm,”

“but your fingers aren’t enough, are they?” fox pouted playfully as he hooked his thumbs beneath the elastic band squeezing your waist. 

“no,” you wheezed, “never.”

“fuck. you sound so pretty when you need me. let me see you.”

trying to stop himself from rushing, the man clambered on top of you and grabbed you by the back of your knees, pushing you up the bed a bit. when your head hit pillows, he tucked them behind you, and he crawled back down to your legs with a mission. gently, he tugged your shorts down, and beneath were little black boyshorts that cut into the skin of your thighs. he looked about as starving as michael douglas as he flattened his palms against your hips, adoring the sight. 

“y’know, most girls hide lacy things,” he teased, “i like this so much better.”

breathlessly, you said, “lace is itchy.”

“god, you’re just dying for it, aren’t you?”

you pushed up into his palms and whispered, “please.”

“please what?”

“do it,” you heaved, “i need it, fox.”

he didn’t need to be told again. he slid your panties down in one sweep and practically drooled over what you had kept from him all this time. he could’ve cried. this must be what people felt when they saw the mona lisa for the first time, or had a prayer answered. this was his very own da vinci original. this was god’s divinity trapped in your lower half. you were an irritated pink, your pussy plump as the rest of you; as he pushed your thighs wide, he found a sheen already coating your skin. “fuck, sweetheart, is this from the movie or me?”

“y-you.” you kicked yourself for all your stammering, but the glow of his cheeks soothed the embarrassment. 

“oh, yeah?”

you didn’t know how easy it would be to let yourself be touched before you just tried it. here, with the one man who might be the direct work on god on earth, you wanted to spill every secret now that you knew something of hands. your heart beat against your ribcage relentlessly as you admitted, “was imagining it was you on tv, fox, you and me,”

“jesus christ,” fox grunted, eyes dirty and dark. “i can fuck you better than he ever could.”

fox pressed his thumb to the bundle of nerves that throbbed between your legs, and just the pressure alone drew a dangerous moan from the back of your throat. he relished in the sound as he began to circle his finger, leaning down to kiss the searing skin. you rolled your hips against his touch, begging for more friction, and he wordlessly rewarded you with a new motion, one that needed two fingers for rubbing. you grabbed at his forearm as it came into reach, and he felt like he could explode from how you tugged at him. you held onto his arm like it was a lifeline. any other girl would’ve grabbed the bedsheets or touched her body, but your inexperience meant you were acting on instinct, and that quite possibly was the best thing he’d ever seen. watching you feel so good for the first time in your life had him panting like a dog. you were all his now, his pretty girl under his spell. an angel who knew only one name. 

“good, baby?”

“mm-nngh,” was all you had to say. 

“what a pretty girl.”

“fox…”

“good girl. only i can make you feel like this, right? not those guys in your books, none of those movies. just me, my hands, baby, my mouth,”

you used your grip on his arm to try and get him to go faster, but he refused. he wriggled free from your grasp and left a ghostly kiss on your stomach, tutting, “oh, no, angel. i’m gonna make this last. want you out of your mind when i’m done.”

you’ve felt powerless all your life, and you do even now, but this is the first time you’ve ever needed more. you were engrossed in being taken. you’d been too afraid to pray for this because you weren’t sure how the man upstairs would feel about you breaking his technical rules, but you had to have yearned to let fox take your virginity every night since you met him. you knew he’s done this before, but you didn’t know he was so gifted; but even he could tell you that it wasn’t so much his experience as it was how he wanted to ruin every other guy for you. and how could you want another when his hand– that which wrapped around the neck of a pistol, that which choked the air of men’s throats– circled your clit so gently, working a new kind of love into you that you never thought imaginable?

“been dreaming about this, y’know,” fox drawled, leaving stinging kisses on your waist. “been thinking about how our first time would go. and you’re doing so good, you’re taking it so well right now.”

you couldn’t speak. every word got caught in your chest. so instead you tugged at his hair, trying to get him to kiss you. he giggled, hovering over you and slowing his fingers so he could give you what you wanted. you moaned into his mouth, lips gnashing against his teeth in your eagerness, and just when you felt like you were starting to have some control, you felt two of his fingers push between your folds. they went so much deeper than you’ve ever gotten your own, and as he curled them inside you, your entire body shook. gasping against his cheek, you exhaled, “oh my god,”

“be careful, baby, you don’t want him to hear you,” fox warned, voice thick with lust. 

you grabbed at his chest, fingers running through the little curling hairs that grew in a thicket over his heart, and you felt it beating, keeping time with his hand. you wondered if sex felt like this for everyone the first time around, but then again, how could it? unless fox was there for them all, they could never have had it this good. 

“you’re so pretty,” fox cooed, “so pretty on my fingers. d’you feel pretty, baby?”

“mmm,”

“tell me you feel pretty,”

“i- i feel pretty.”

“mhm. what about me, love, you think i’m pretty, too? my hands feel pretty?”

“fuck,” you squeaked, “fox!”

“i know you do. say it.”

“you’re so pretty,” you droned, trying to catch his lips in a kiss, but he rerouted to your neck. 

you ground into his palm over and over again, and he felt you burning up on his fingertips, contracting, squeezing, shaking. he moaned into your shoulder, “do you wanna cum, baby?”

your hands scratched at his arms, and to his surprise, you shook your head violently. “not yet,”

“really?”

“mm-mm. not… not time yet.”

fox’s pupils swallowed the green of his eyes. the man licked his lips and slowed to a stop, letting his fingers rest inside of you, and he asked, “what comes next, then?”

even in a position so lewd as this one, you were too embarrassed to explain. so you reached up to his mouth, swiping your thumb across his slick bottom lip, and with pretty little doe eyes, you popped your finger into his mouth. you watched as he wrapped his lips around it, swirling his tongue over the salty taste of your skin, and you whispered, “i need you.”

fox pulled off your finger with a pop. “how?” 

he followed your lidded gaze as it traveled down to the bulge in his pants, and he nearly passed out. 

“you sure you’re ready for that?” his eyebrows knit together in true concern, but he knew he was the one who had to answer the question, too. he wanted to do right by you– you couldn’t regret this, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if you did. “i can wait, you know. this is about you.”

“no. i’m ready,”

“positive?”

“mhm,” you sighed, “just… don’t hurt me.”

the man above you melted like putty, and the hunger he’d touched you with went soft. you saw that toothy grin again, the one that gave you butterflies, and he promised, “i’d never hurt you, angel.”

the scruff of his jaw even tinted a lovesick pink as he kissed you. your fingers scratched at the back of his ears like you would a dog’s, and you confessed between breaths, “i love you, foxie.”

his hands flew to his waist and he rushed to undo his belt and shimmy the slacks down. he wanted to scream, he wanted to stand at the edge of the world and tell every soul about the way you coated his entire existence in sugar, but right now, it was just you. he was alone with his girl, and if he couldn’t tell the world, he could at least make you sick of hearing it. 

“i’m so fuckin’ in love with you,” he swore, marking your face with invisible prints of his mouth. “i’m all yours, princess.”

“oh, god,” you groaned, watching how he spilled out of his boxers with glazed eyes. you had no idea where he was hiding all that. you felt a little dorky for the surprise, but who could blame you?

fox was too far to reign in. he grabbed your wrists and pulled you up, and he made you scoot up against his headboard; you pressed your back against the cold wood, and you yelped as he raised you in the air, pinning you to the wall. 

“fox, i-”

“you’re not too heavy,” he stopped you, knowing what you were going to say. “you’re perfect.”

you couldn’t complain- truthfully, you didn’t even get the chance to think about it, because he was all over you. with one hand holding you up by the leg, and the other gripping the headboard with white knuckles, he pushed himself between your legs, and you knocked your head into the wall at the way he stuffed you. 

“fuck, fox!”

it didn’t hurt, but god, was he big. pinned to the wall like this, you had no bearings. he had you suspended, stapled down by his sheer strength;  you never thought you could be fucked like this, some little ragdoll he could throw around, but clearly you underestimated how much he could handle. you felt the wind leaving your lungs as he pulled out and snapped back in, pelvis rolling hard against your swollen clit. he moved like a wave crashing down, managing to soak every part of you with his skin.

“fuck, sweetheart, so much better than i imagined,” he croaked, “feels okay, right?”

“s-so… so big…”

“oh, baby, i know,” he babied, leaving pinprick kisses on your jaw. “you can take it, pretty girl.”

his big hand tangled itself in the hair at the base of your neck as he fucked you into the creaking headboard. you were an endless machine of moans and profanities, head lolling, trying to keep your eyes open to watch the way his lips parted at the feeling of you encircling him. he tugged at your hair, and a guttural groan escaped your lips. 

“always wanted to get fucked like this, huh, baby? you’re such a good girl, you deserve it,”

“fox, please,”

“such a pretty girl,” he moaned, “jesus, you sure you’ve never done this before?”

as you bucked your hips against his swelling length, you offered a drunken grin. “only in my… dreams.”

“oh my god. you’ve got no idea how hot you are.”

he was everywhere, he was heaven, he was the pounding in your head as you collapsed against his body, letting him use you like a toy. you scratched at his shoulders, mouth all over his sizzling skin, and he flooded your ears with pretty praises. you hoped to god that by the time he was done you’d have the print of his hands tattooed on your hips, or that he’d never be done and you could float on by in this bliss forever. but his hips were thrusting hard, and falling out of time, and you felt your tummy squeezing like it was running out of air. he drowned in you, mouth full of dirty whines and strings of i love yous, and you knew you couldn’t hold back.

“f-fox… oh- oh god…”

“gonna cum for me, princess?”

“i… i’ve never…”

the feeling in your stomach was foreign and hot, and it was backing up all the functions of your brain. all you felt was fox between your legs, terrorizing this little spot that short-circuited all your nerves, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, trapping his mouth with yours– and when he hit it one last time, with eyes rolling back, and you let everything go. fox felt the warmth of you spilling over him, and the silent scream you let out had him unraveling in seconds. his hands were all over your face, fingers on your teeth as he came inside you, feeling himself mixing with you, and nearly bursting again just knowing he was. 

“oh, baby,” he fussed, “good girl, atta girl!”

pulling out slowly, so you didn’t feel too shocked, he slid you down the headboard softly and helped prop you up against the pillows again. you couldn't see straight, and everything twinkled, but you did catch a glimpse of him sneaking back down the bed. the man admired the mess he left behind. the smallest dribble spilled out of you, and all of a sudden he was lapping it up with his tongue, thirsty as a castaway. your entire body buzzed with overstimulation, and in what felt like screams but only came out strangled, you exclaimed, “fuck, oh my god!”

his tongue split you open, collecting all the juices between your hips and smearing the inside of your thighs, the pretty little mound of your pussy, making you shimmer like an angel. he sucked, and he swirled, and he dug his tongue between your folds like a freak, and you grabbed at his sweaty hair, so full of him you wanted to thank your angels for sending you someone so perfect.

“come on, i know you’ve got more,” fox coaxed, “one more, baby, one more.”

black spots crossed your line of vision as you watched his face disappear in your legs, and the tidal wave rose again, drowning you in a feeling that had you bucking against his tongue like a rogue horse. you’d never been able to make yourself cum, but all it took was fox mulder to pull two loads right out of you. you felt disgusting, you felt drunk, you felt so good you could’ve died this way. you didn’t ever want to leave the bed. fox made his way back up, heaving, and he kissed you with milky lips. you tasted yourself on his tongue, and you needed his palms to pin your hips down as you trembled, stuck on your high. 

“good girl, didn’t that feel good?” kiss. “you did so good, baby,” kiss, “so good for me,” kiss, “m’so proud of you, sweetheart.”

“mm… agh,” 

“i know, love, take a deep breath.” you felt his hand press against your warm tummy, and he told you again, “take a deep breath for me.”

you smiled, trapped beneath him, and you breathed like he wanted you to. anything he wanted, for the rest of his life, he would get. through fuzzy vision, you saw his glittery eyes, the grecian curve of his face, the little white strip of teeth behind his handsome smile, and you felt so in love you didn’t know what to do with yourself. he started to blush under your gaze, so he laid down on top of you, resting his head on your chest to listen to your racing heartbeat. 

“foxie,” you whispered.

“hm?”

“m’not a virgin anymore,” you giggled, the joy bubbling out of you. 

his warm laugh echoed in your ribs. “not anymore.”

“all yours now,” you swooned, “are you happy?”

you felt his hand slither behind your back, and he scratched at your spine, making you squeal at the ticklish feeling. then he attacked your neck and shoulders, mercilessly going after all the spots he knows are most sensitive until you lost your breath again from his innocent touch. “stupid question!”

“ah!– fox– agh, stop!” you swatted at his hands, a blissful wreck.

“‘course i’m happy,” he chuckled as he relented. “are you?”

in a huff, you rested your spinning head on his pillows and blushed. “mhm. very.”

“worth the wait?”

“definitely. thank you.”

“my pleasure,” he teased, flopping down beside you and lacing his fingers with yours. and when a comfortable silence fell, he couldn’t help himself: “you know i’m never gonna stop thinking about this, right? i’m ruined for life.”

“shut up,” you laughed. 

“no, seriously. get ready for a life of me drooling over you doing absolutely nothing.”

“i’d like that life, i think.”

you curled up in his side, and he drew you close, letting you hide in the crook of his neck the same way you did in what felt like a lifetime ago on his couch. there was still a little devil on his shoulder, applauding him for taking a piece of you that no one else could have now, but more than anything, his heart ebbed and flowed in his chest, blossoming each time he looked down at your pretty face. he meant it when he said he was ruined. you ruined everything by letting him fall in love with you, and he has never felt so lucky. 

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

inspired by this ask ;)

[muldermuse]

Plus One (Fox Mulder X Reader)

This is based on an ask I recieved <333 thank u for sending it through

Scully is unable to attend an event so Fox asks you to be his plus one.

“It means a lot that you’re coming tonight, I’ll uh- I’ll pick you up at your apartment at 6? Have a chat about the mission in the car and then go from there…I’m looking forward to seeing you…Scully said your dress looks good and you know that she knows more about that stuff than me *laughs*. Um, okay well this is a long voicemail so uh-right, I’ll see you in a few hours. Oh! This is Fox by the way.”

It definitely was not your usual practice to have a glass of red wine before getting ready for a mission but you had to admit that you felt nervous about tonight.  It was standard for Mulder and Scully to do something like this. To get intel about a case, they’d dress up and rub shoulders with people unknowingly involved in an X File. Sometimes they’d pose as a couple and other times they would pose as two singles trying to seek out a partner for the evening. They would collect as much intel as possible and within the following weeks; the case would undoubtedly be solved.

This was a huge case so Scully was in another state, sleeping in her car to avoid the bed bug-ridden motel that Skinner had put her up in. Fox was too nervous to ask you so you got a call from Scully late last night. The key contact Fox had been trying to speak to about this case was attending a Gala in Washington. The contact was old school, any guest to the Gala had to have a date for the evening, and of course; it was a black tie event. You were reluctant and Scully knew you would be. “Listen, if you want to fly out and take my place in this crappy rental car, which stinks of fries for some reason- I would thank you for it. But, you’ll have a great time and I know you have that black dress that you’re looking for an excuse to wear…”.

So here you are, pouring a large glass of red wine and listening to the Spice Girls as you try to focus all your nervous energy into applying your make up and curling your hair. You slip your dress on at quarter to 5. The dress was expensive and it looks it. It’s black and shimmering under the fairy lights strung over your bookshelf. It’s hugging your curves, it’s hiding any insecurities and you have to admit- you look amazing. The remaining wine in the glass slides down your throat and gives a final rush of adrenaline. Fox knocks at the door at exactly 6 o’clock.

***

He's wearing his glasses. That’s the first thing that you recognize. Not the bouquet of flowers tightly clutched in his fist, not the perfectly tailored suit or the nervous expression covering his face.

“You’re wearing glasses, I’ve never seen you wear them outside of the office.” You smile at him and he smiles back but he seems distracted. He doesn’t reply for a few seconds and as the awkward energy fills the air; he thrusts the flowers towards your hands.

“Yeah, I think they make me look smarter” He awkwardly laughs. “These are for you...obviously…you usually have peonies at your desk on special occasions so I thought you’d like them.”

“They’re beautiful, I didn’t realise that you noticed stuff like that. Maybe you’re a better agent than I suspected Fox” you wink as you go back into your apartment and place the flowers in the sink with some water. You take the moment with the faucet running to compose yourself.

God.

He looks so fucking good.

The nerves that have slowly dissipated over the past hour are suddenly back without warning. He looks so good- do you look alright? Oh god, are you not dressed up enough? Does he think you look okay? I bet he wishes that Scully was here right now, you could potentially jeopardise this entire case and you know how hard they’re both working on it.

You’re too lost in your own thoughts to hear Fox cross the room and place a warm hand against your lower back. The tension zapping through your body streams out with a deep exhale.

“I have a car waiting downstairs, we should probably go”. He holds his arm out for you with a grin and he guides you downstairs. He holds the car door open for you. Whilst you have a moment alone; you whisper to yourself an affirmation that tonight will go well.

You have no idea that Fox is doing the same thing.

***

Fox has liked you for a while and he suspects that this occasion is all Scully’s doing. There was no real reason for her to travel to Wyoming, it was some anonymous call which Fox completely doubts the validity of.  When it comes to the X Files and his career, Fox is a ‘do-er.’ He wants to get out there, prove the importance of his work and save lives.

However, when it comes to his relationships. At the minute, Fox is less active.

The moment he saw you smiling; you had never been far from his thoughts. Scully struck up a friendship with you through a mutual love of the same sandwich served a local deli. Fox would sit in on your lunch dates together, he’d always try and make you laugh- feeling an immense sense of pride when he did.

Scully had disclosed to him her feelings on your boyfriend, Jason. You had so much love to give and he seemed to be the opposite. Closed off and cold. Scully told Fox you’d been arguing more and were getting close to breaking up. When you did, Fox watched from afar as your usual bright smile never reached your eyes.

***

The car ride is filled with idle chat. The tension in the air seems to mount as you both try desperately to ignore it. Fox tells you about the Gala and what to expect. It’s more of an occasion to scope out the group rather than to gather intel on a specific target.

You don’t realise that as the car drives closer to your destination that your knee begins to bounce and your fingers fidget with the tassle on your handbag. Fox rests his hand on your knee and his thumb rubs calming small circles on your soft skin.

“You look amazing, thanks again for doing this.”

Before you can thank him or compliment him back, the car pulls to a stop and the door opens.

***

The room is grand and glamourous. It’s a decadent affair with rich red velvet curtains and carpets decorating each room. The different perfumes and aftershaves blend together to create a sweet floral scent that lingers as every person passes. It’s a crowd of black tuxedos and billowing ballgowns, everyone smiling politely with a clear hint of judgement to every passerby. The sound of the band is lost over the exchanging of pleasantries and the distinctive pop of champagne corks, followed by a polite cheer.

It's completely unlike anywhere else you have ever been or anywhere you are likely to ever go.

“I think I’m the poorest person in here by about three million dollars, Fox”

“Oh no, it’ll be way more than that,” Fox says with a wink as he hands you a glass of champagne. He moves in close enough to whisper to you and you try to ignore the sensation of his breath fanning your neck.

“See that guy over there with the red suit, he has a huge interest in extraterrestrials. It’s massive so much so that he spends around five and a half million dollars a year trying to prove they’re real. He’s got that much money it’s basically a game.”

The bubbles of champagne trickle down your throat as you move closer into Fox’s hold. He holds your waist and rotates you to look at another corner of the room. His breath remains hot on your neck and you’re not sure if it’s the alcohol coursing through your veins or his presence that is making your head feel fuzzy.

“That lady over there with the huge hat, like, ridiculously big hat.” You nod at Fox without taking your eyes off her. “The Lone Gunman guys suspect that she gets all her money from selling UFOs that crash, on the black market. She only leaves her guarded house three times a year and this is one of the occasions.”

“Suspect? So it could be something completely different.” You smirk up at Fox, he grabs another two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and hands one to you. “Who knows, maybe she makes her money selling really big hats.”

“Or maybe, the reason her hat is so big is because it’s broadcasting a message to a UFO flying over Washington”. His grin matches yours.

You clink the glasses together and without the other knowing, both of you acknowledge the butterflies fluttering in your stomachs.

***

Neither of you speak to anyone else, you find a quiet corner tucked away in the hall room and chat. You sip on a glass of wine and Fox holds a tumbler of whiskey but both drinks go warm as you get lose in the conversation with each other.

It dawns on you that before tonight, you’ve never really spoken to Fox as it’s usually a group environment or a passing hi-goodbye as you both make your way home at the end of the day.

He tells you about his family, he tells you about his favourite cases and more importantly than all of the things he’s saying to you- he’s present with you the entire time. Conversations with your ex were one sided and that was something that took months to admit. You realized your relationship with Jason was over during a conversation. You’d just got the promotion that you’d spent months working on and he asked one simple question that felt like a knife to your pumping heart.

“When were you going to tell me about that promotion?”

You had told him; of course you had. You’d told him when you first heard about it, you’d told him the planning you’d spent weeks organizing and you told him the morning of the interview.

He hadn’t heard any of it.

You’d been together over a year. You had met each other’s family, met each other’s friends, you’d fallen in love and within that conversation; you realized how far from love you both had fallen.

The big band music was gradually playing louder and louder. You’d both been straining to shout over it to keep the conversation going. Eventually, you realized a way you would be able to hear Fox better, you grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the dance floor.

***

The music was soft, flowing through the air as the lights began to dim slowly and the illuminated table decorations filled in the dark spaces. You placed your arms around Fox’s shoulders as his large hands slid down to your waist. Your heart was beating the steadiest that it had all night.

“How did you know about the peonies? I’ve never told you or Scully about that.” Your hands remained interlocked around his neck as you fought the urge to run your fingers through his hair.

“Well, I know your birthday and you had peonies on that date. When you got that promotion, you had peonies, and when uh…yeah, you have peonies.” A nervous look flashes across his face. You know what he was going to say.

“When I broke up with Jason, someone in the office got me peonies and left them on my desk. It was the only thing that made me smile that week”. The memory still makes you emotional, the week was relentless sleepless nights and non-stop crying. On the last day of the week, there was a gorgeous bunch of peonies in a vase on your desk. No note, no name- nothing.

His hands tighten around your waist as he rests his forehead against yours, “I’m glad you liked them…it was hard to see you look so sad”.

Of course it was him.

It always was.

It always is.

Before you can carry on speaking or stop the tears trying to fill your eyes. He tilts your chin to meet your eyeline with his thumb and forefinger.

“I don’t think I’ve told you how beautiful you look tonight or thanked you for this…I mean thanked you properly."

You place your head against his chest and wrap your arms around his waist, continuing to sway to the music; you hear him take a breath before carrying on.

"I've liked you for a while and god, does that sound childish to say. This means a lot to me and you being here means even more. I'd like to take you out, I can't always promise it will be this fancy...actually, I can guarantee it never will be but I want to spend time with you. In any setting, I possibly can."

He doesn't look at you and you don't look at him. It felt like a confession he needed to make but perhaps didn't have the confidence to say it to your face. Which is amazing to you because Fox Mulder doesn't strike you as someone who struggles with anxieties.

"I think this place is a bit too fancy for me, maybe we can chat more at the 24 hour diner near my apartment? I think we'll look a bit different from the usual patrons" You gesture at your black gown and his tuxedo. He smiles as he takes your hand and leads you to the exit.

Before you get back into the car, you press a kiss to his lips and thank him for the evening. For the entire journey to the diner; you hold each other's hands tightly.

[favouriteteddypicker]

what about mulder having soft sex with the reader to show how much he loves her?

Definitely! Here’s the story I’ve written, I hope you like it!

Indiana Jones will be next :)

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Word Count: 2.0k

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The soft sunlight broke free through your window, gently shining on your face. You were wearing your pyjama shorts with nothing underneath and no top on as you just woke up.

You stretched your arms out before you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, today was your birthday.

You slowly opened your eyes, adjusting to the light. You looked next to you but the bed was empty, you saw the exact spot that Fox had been sleeping on only he wasn't there.

You looked at the nightstand besides your bed, maybe he left a note or something to tell you that he's gone out like he usually does, but nothing.

You were a little confused until you heard something rumbling downstairs in the kitchen, the rumbling was followed up by Fox humming his favourite song.

You smiled to yourself as you heard him tiptoe up the stairs, trying not to wake you. You sat up in bed, covering your chest with the blanket as you had a sweet smile on your face while watching Fox slowly enter the room wearing just his boxers, his hair still messy. It was obvious that he stood up like that.

"Oh good morning birthday girl, I hope I didn't wake you?" He asked a little guilty as he saw you sitting up, his hands behind his back. "I thought you were still a sleep, you looked so peaceful when I got up."

"No don't worry." You giggled. "The sunlight woke me up, what were you up to?"

"Well since today is your birthday, I thought I'd make you breakfast in bed." He said as he brought his hands back from behind his back, revealing fresh orange juice and a homemade breakfast.

"Fox..." You said in adoration. "You know you didn't have to right?"

"I know." He said as he walked over and handed it to you, pressing a kiss on your forehead before he crawled back into bed next to you. "I just really wanted to."

“Oh yeah?" You said after you took a sip of your orange juice, putting it and the food on the bedside table. "Just cause it's my birthday?"

"Mhm." He said as he moved closer to you, kissing your bare back. "I'll take every opportunity I get to show you how much I love you."

You softly hummed as you felt his soft lips against your skin. "I love it when you show me how much you love me."

"Oh really?" He said as he moved his kisses towards your neck. "What's your favourite way of me showing you?"

"You know exactly what my favourite way is." You said as you slightly pushed his chin up, making him look at you.

His pupils grew as he looked at you, an adoring smile on his lips. The soft sunlight hit his toned chest and made it look even better than it usually does.

You cupped his face with your hands, slowly moving your thumbs over his soft skin. You pecked his lips as you both closed your eyes, without any hesitation he kissed you back.

His soft lips against yours never failed to make you melt, they felt so perfect against each other. Fox his strong hands moved over to your back, pulling you closer against his chest. His one hand moved towards the back of your neck, gently holding on to you.

He slowly pushed you down onto the bed, climbing on top of you and sitting in between your now spread legs as his lips didn't leave yours.

You felt the bulge in his underwear press against your pyjama shorts as a little hum left your mouth into the kiss.

"Well than your lucky it's your birthday." He softly said as he looked into your eyes.

You gently bit your bottom lip as you looked up at him, his beautiful dark eyes staring into yours. A small giggle left your lips as you felt him kiss your neck, slowly making his way down to your collarbone, eventually all the way down to your abdomen while his hands moved up and down your waist before they settled on your breasts. You let your head fall back slightly and gently opened your legs a bit more as you felt his hot kisses reach the top of your pyjama shorts.

You felt him chuckle against your skin. "You're so beautiful y/n, you know that right?" He said as he looked up at you with a little naughty smile on his face.

His hands left your breast and felt light against your skin as he brought them down, sending shivers down your spine. He hooked his fingers into the top of your shorts and gently pulled them down, leaving you naked on the bed.

He slowly began to kiss your inner thigh, making his way down as he left wet kisses all over you. His big hands tightly wrapped around your waist as he pulled you closer before leaving a big kiss where you so desperately wanted him to.

A small groan left your mouth as you felt his tongue inside of you, before going up to your clit. His tongue swirled small circles on your sensitive spot as you buried one hand into his hair, the other one grabbing on to the sheets.

You felt his nails softly dig into your skin as he made sure you stayed in place with his tight grip.

You sometimes felt him look up at you cause his moves slightly changed when he did, admiring the way he made you feel.

Your head fallen back against the pillow, your eyes gently shut close, your mouth slightly parted as little moans left it, your chest rising and falling down just a bit faster due to your heavier breathing and your beautiful legs slightly raised and spread for him. It was one of his favourites sights, he loved seeing you like this.

You had grabbed a hand full of his hair and softly tugged at it while massaging your breast with your free hand, sometimes hearing a low groan escape his mouth against you as you pulled a little too hard.

He slowed down his movements before he kissed his way up your thigh again, making sure you were alright before suddenly stopping.

You looked up at him with desperation in your eyes, his hair was even messier than before, his eyes were calm, his lips a little swollen and wet, his lips parted as his breathing sped up and the soft sunlight now shone on his tinted cheeks.

He kept kissing the skin of your slightly bend knees as he removed his boxers, revealing how hard you made him.

He sat on his knees in between your legs before you went up a little while leaning on your elbows. His hands wrapped around your hips as he pushed you up, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He pressed your bare chest against his, your breasts being pressed against him. You wrapped your arms around his neck while you looked into each others eyes.

No words were spoken but the look on your faces already said enough. His calm eyes looked sweet, his plump lips were just begging for yours, his tinted cheeks felt warm and a little strand of hair fell in front of his face.

You softly bit the inside of your cheek, a little smile playing on your lips before you moved your hips up a bit and lining yourself up with him.

You pressed your lips against his as you lowered yourself onto him, letting him fill you up. He groaned into the kiss as he felt you around him, slightly tightening his grip on you.

You slowly started to grind your hips against his as you kept kissing him, opening your mouth to allow his tongue to fight with yours. It was tender, it was sweet, it was loving, you had all the time in the world.

Fox was particularly gentle with you today, this day was after all, all about you. He loved making you feel good, he loved hearing the noises that would escape your mouth, he loved feeling your bare skin against his, he loved the way your lips felt on his like they were made for each other, he loved having soft sex with you just as much as anything else, he loved everything about you and he loved showing you.

One of his hands laid on your lower back just above your ass while the other one was placed higher up your back, keeping you pressed up against him.

Your arms were still wrapped around his neck while one of your hands was placed between his shoulder blades and the other one had made its way to the back of his head as you grabbed a hand full of his hair again.

You moved your hips against his, up and down, back and forth as your kisses got sloppier. Your kisses kept getting interrupted by the sounds that were leaving your mouths.

You pressed your forehead against his as you stopped kissing him, both of your lips parted as small moans left them. Your eyes shut close but you could feel Fox still looking at you as he moved his hips up against yours.

He pressed your body even closer against his, leaving absolutely no space between the two of you. For a moment it felt like it was just you two on the world, like the time stopped for a small amount of time while you were pressed up against each other, hearing nothing but the pleasures you were giving each other.

You suddenly felt him push you back down on the bed, laying you down slowly without pulling out of you and keeping your legs wrapped around him tightly.

He gently moved his hips against yours as he put both of your hands above your head, pinning you down. His moves were gentle but not slow, he did his best not to hurt you and to make you enjoy every second of it.

"Faster." You said with a fulfilling sigh as you closed your eyes. "Please go faster, just a bit."

"Whatever you want." He murmured against the skin of your neck where he was leaving small kisses. "You'll get."

He sped up his moves just a little bit, but it was definitely enough to finally hit that one spot that always made you feel good.

"Fuck yes Fox." You slightly moaned as you felt your back arch.

You wrapped your legs even tighter around his waist, allowing him to go even deeper. He rested his face in the crook of your neck as you heard and felt him groan against your skin, while the grip he had on your pulse tightened.

After a little while his moves got sloppier and slowed down again but luckily he still kept hitting that one spot that would sent you over the edge.

You mouth fell open completely, your back arched just a little bit more, your toes curled, your hands forming fists and a slightly louder moan left your lips as you came, a wave of pleasure washed over you as Fox put his forehead back against yours.

"Good girl." He softly murmured as he left a kiss on your nose.

After a few more sloppy thrusts you felt him twitching inside of you before his head slightly fell back and he let out a breathy moan while he came inside of you.

He laid down next to you before pulling you closer to him, letting you rest your head on his chest. Both of you caught your breath while little drops of sweat formed on your bodies.

Fox left an out of breath kiss on the top of your head, "Do you want to take a shower before we move on with the rest of your special day?" he asked you.

"Hm depends." You hummed, "Does that mean you're not done with me yet?" You asked with a smile on your face as you looked up at him.

"I'll never be done with you." He chuckled, "Like I said, I'll take every opportunity to show you how much I love you."

[ecoamerica]

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[bakedbakermom]

Enough.

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

Summary: Dana Scully has had enough.

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

_________

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

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

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

And Dana Scully had had enough.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Apparently he renders her monosyllabic.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I sure hope she does,” he answers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“God, Scully. Please.”

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

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

“Then allow me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that is enough.

[hippiegoth97]

This man is making me have massive heart eyes every time a look at his stupid, handsome face! I need to get this damn story done already, so I can make all of you as thirsty for Spooky Mulder as I am.

[fine-nephrit]

🥏 TXF Fic Rec #28: "This House is Burning" by Tesla

Today’s fic is one of the best profiler!Mulder casefiles. It strikes a nice balance, offering just the right amount of everything: the case is engaging with genre-savvy details yet is neither convoluted nor cumbersome; the romance is front and center but not overindulgent. The prose is straightforward and streamlined. It flows with such ease and pulls you into the narrative effortlessly — it’s a page-turner before you know it.

A number of cliched romance tropes are played straight (e.g., the 'one bed' scenario, misunderstandings due to an inability to communicate), but the excellent writing pulls them off with great subtlety. I buy it all. I love the dialogue in the final scene that resolves the emotional arc, marking one of my favorite UST to RST moments. I often find sex scenes dull and skippable, but every single one here is hot, short and well-written. This is a comfort fic that I return to time and again, enjoying it with unchanging pleasure.

---

🥏 on X-Libris 🥏 on Gossamer (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3)

length: novella, 36,000+ words season: early seasons, probably season 3 pairing(s): M/S UST to RST tags: casefile, angst, smut, rift, one bed, undercover, Scully-POV, Mulder-POV rating: mature/R

[dunhamhairograpy]

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

Her life has become his.

There it is. Definitive.

[phillippadgettwrites]

The First Time, Every Time: Eve

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Scully shrugs and looks at the floor. 

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

Scully swallows and nods. 

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

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

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

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

She looks at him sharply. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Scully heaves a relieved sigh, nodding in the dark. 

“Yes. Wild night,” she agrees. 

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

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

“Yep,” she says. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

[internet-sadass]

I Can't Wait For You To Knock Me Up (Fox Mulder x female reader)

Blurb: In which Mulder discovers he has a breeding kink, all because you asked him to massage your stomach.

Warnings: smut, breeding kink.

A/N: not my finest work but certainly one of my horniest. I'm so ill about Mulder rn, he is rotting my brain. yes, the title is MSI lyrics. I may be cringe but at least I am free.

You tossed over onto your side yet again, hoping that switching position yet again would relieve your pain. Even after taking a painkiller before getting into bed, you still felt the pain radiating from your lower belly all the way through to your back, making it feel like you'd pulled a muscle. It almost felt like something was inside your womb, clawing around, tearing at your sensitive walls.

"Hey, hey, what's the matter? You've been turning over and over for an hour now." Mulder's voice was gruff and slightly hoarse from waking suddenly. You felt his breath against your neck.

"Sorry I woke you." You mumbled, hoping he didn't enquire further about why you were tossing and turning. It was too early in the relationship, you felt, for you to be open about basic bodily functions. As much as you knew Mulder would probably be understanding and mature about it, you couldn't be absolutely sure. Other men you'd dated had recoiled when you mentioned the fact you were on your period, or had pretty much kept their hands off you until you'd finished your monthly bleed.

"Can't be nothing if you're still awake at this time." Mulder rubbed your arm, obviously more awake than you thought he was. Nothing was getting past him, even at 3:34 AM. 

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you worked up the courage to tell him.

"It's my period. I've got really bad cramps." You said, feeling like a pre-teen asking for a pad for the first time: totally embarrassed about your body doing what it was supposed to do.

There was a sigh from behind you and then a short chuckle.

"I guessed it might have been, but I didn't want to just ask you in case it seemed rude." 

It was your turn to sigh, this time in relief. You shifted yourself to press back against Mulder.

"Can I do anything to make it hurt less?" He asked, pressing a kiss against your shoulder.

"Could you...could you rub my stomach? That always seems to help." 

The warmth of Mulder's hand settled on your lower stomach, right above where your womb was ragging war on itself. He pushed the hem of your vest up and spread his palm across your womb, before starting to rub circles over your skin, applying just enough pressure to reach the cramping muscles.

"Is that good?" 

You gave a contented 'mm-hmm' as you felt the pain ease with each circle of his hand. Mulder took that as a yes.

Mulder kept on massaging your stomach, waiting until he was certain you had dropped off to sleep before he dared stop. He listened to your breathing slow and felt your body relax, all the tension leaking out of it. You were totally at peace. He, however, was not. 

He was achingly hard, the stiff length of his erection pressed against the small of your back, a light sheen of sweat across his forehead. It took all his willpower to not rut against you to relieve some of the tension. 

The cause of Mulder’s throbbing predicament was the thought of his seed filling up your womb, making it swell with his child, seeing your body soften and become even more irresistible to touch and play with. As he rubbed your stomach, he imagined it bulging out more than it was, feeling his child's tiny kicks and squirms underneath. He thought about how everyone would then know that you and him were together, that you were his girl and his girl alone. No more having to grin and bear other agents trying to chat you up. They'd know, and they'd keep away. 

The idea of getting you pregnant had never really crossed Mulder's mind, not even when he dutifully rolled a condom onto his length every time you two managed to have sex amid your busy schedules. He'd always use protection out of habit and because it was the right thing to do, as he didn't want to burden you with a child you didn't want. But now, as he felt precum collect on his crown and smear over your back, the desire to knock you up grew so strong he knew he had to see if you would let him pursue his fantasy. The idea of you begging him to fill you up, to put a baby in you, made him leave the warmth and comfort of the bed to pump his cock in the bathroom until he came over the same palm that had comforted your aching womb. 

***

"F-Fox - ah, slow down! - what's gotten into you?” You managed between the desperate, open-mouth kisses Mulder was giving you as he practically tore your blouse off and started attacking your skirt. Yanking your skirt off, he tore your tights and panties down in one swift motion, leaving you hobbling awkwardly as you tried to free yourself from the tights stuck at your feet.

"Mm, I just need you right now. Sick of looking at you all day and not being able to touch you properly." Mulder slurred out, as if he were intoxicated merely by kissing you. He steered you into your room, pushing you down on the bed and taking the chance to finally remove some of his own clothes, leaving his tie and his shirt on but open and loose. 

"I-I moved the condoms into the drawer, second one down." You mumbled as Mulder pressed your knees up to your chest, settling himself between your thighs. His tip was red and impatient, dribbling precum down his shaft. You'd never seen Mulder get this worked up about fucking you. He was normally all about taking things slow, drawing out the process of burying his length in you and working the pair of you to climax. 

"Can I please go without? I wanna feel you properly. Fill you up." Mulder said as he leaned over you, his face flushed and hair already a mess. 

You had to think for a minute about the fact that Mulder, who normally put a condom on unprompted, was asking if he could enter you entirely unprotected.

"You trying to knock me up, Agent Mulder?" You teased, sliding yourself down the bed ever so slightly so his tip caught on your slit.

"M-maybe." If his face could have gotten any redder, it would have at that point. "Can I?" 

Grabbing his tie, you pulled him down for a kiss. 

"Go ahead. I want you to fill me." 

***

Every overexcited thrust Mulder gave made your thighs strain, your legs propped over his shoulders. He was ploughing into you relentlessly, dragging his shaft in and out of your gummy walls, hitting up against your cervix. His thighs and hips collided with your ass, filling the room with loud slaps that you knew your neighbours would hear. He was mumbling praises and curses, telling you over and over how much he loved you and couldn’t wait to see you pregnant. You couldn't do much else but moan as he fucked you harder than he ever had before.

Mulder felt his end coming far quicker than he wanted, but he was in no position to slow his pace down to delay his climax. His balls tightened as his seed spurted out his slit in thick arcs, filling up your womb and then your cunt. You gave a soft moan as the heat spread throughout your insides, your body happily accepting your lover's offering. You felt some spend dribble out from your entrance despite his cock still plugging it up. Groaning, he withdrew, watching as his cum dripped out of your full and puffy lips. He flopped onto the bed next to you. 

You rolled over to look at a very exhausted yet content Mulder. He was smiling at the ceiling with his eyes closed, panting. 

"It'll probably take more than one time to get me pregnant. You know that, right?" 

Mulder opened his eyes and turned his head to face you, still smiling.

"I know that." He reached a hand down to rub circles on your lower stomach again. "We'll just have to keep trying until we succeed." 

[luvfo00l]

Some of my favourite fox Mulder hcs

Pairings: Fox Mulder x F!FBI!reader

Warnings: these are SFW and NSFW, MDNI below the cut!

SFW

Fox’s love language is physical touch, anytime of the day, you could just be looking at a case at your desk, he would lean over from his desk to feel your hand.

Whenever you steal his glasses he blushes almost uncontrollably, he just thinks you’re so cute.

totally writes you love notes and letters, leaving them around your desk and when you two live together he leaves them around the apartment.

Mulder is a surprisingly protective lover, he’s the sort to put his arms around your waist if another man was ever looking at you, he’d kiss your neck too

You two on a case of some crazy X file and Mulder getting bored in the car and singing along to the radio.

Whenever you feel upset he doesn’t leave your side, like at all

Fox is a super romantic man, he could see you’re cold on a case in the middle of the night and give you his big trench coat that was significantly too big for you.

He absolutely adores when you do his makeup, there’s something about you practicing your makeup on him that he just really thinks your concentration is cute.

The first time Fox realised you had taken his heart was when you got sent to work with him on a case in the middle of nowhere Oregon when you were focused on reading, he just..fell for you.

NSFW

Fox Mulder is a switch. You cannot tell me otherwise.

He likes when you wear his glasses and ride him, it just makes him so hard.

He likes missionary and cowgirl.

He REALLY likes your ass in pencil skirts..

Mulder is a tits man, he just loves squishing them, putting his head on them and obviously putting his cock between them.

You two once had sex in a rental car on a case.

You wanna know why he always wears that long coat? To hide his damn boner when you bend over in a skirt or trousers.

Remember when I said physical touch is his love language, it has two meanings..

He LOVES when you leave hickeys on his neck, people in the FBI don’t really call him ‘spooky Mulder’ when they realise his ‘innocent’ little girlfriend gave him those hickeys.

He absolutely loves when you sit on his lap and when you grind on his lap he just loses it completely.

Sorry guys this is my first time ever writing for Mulder so I hope I did good :)

[pocagreen]

FOX MULDER IS SO FINE

I AM STARVING FOR MULDER FANFICS I swear I am loosing my mind I have read pretty much everything on both tumbler and ao3. I NEED a multi chapter straight up BOOK I wanna see Fox and reader meet, work together, fall in love, get in a relationship, relationship fluff, occasionally some smut?, be in an ADORABLE relationship

longer fics always end after they get together!! I wanna see them get together AND THEN get a whole bunch of fluff chapters NOT ONE OR THE OTHER 😭

THE PEOPLE ON THIS PLATFORM ARE SOO TALENTED SO I TURN TO THOU IN DESPERATATION 😔

PLEASE SOMEBODY 🙏😭😭

[postmodernbeliever]

sick and twisted- fox mulder x female reader (smutsmutsmutsmut)

in a sudden bout of sickness, you are staying with fox, who is yearning to take care of you (...in more ways than one.)

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hope you enjoy this incredibly horny thing... wrote this as i worked through raging period hormones <333 (sometimes i still get a little nervous to post these but yknow what. if im thinking it someone else is too probably. so yolo)

my ao3 | word count: 2,906

content tags: soft dom fox mulder, fox mulder the top of every girl's dreams, domestic fluff, fluff and smut, sickfic, sick reader, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering & sex, plus size reader if you squint, past fox was a little plus size if you ALSO SQUINT!!!!, idiots in love, pet names, smut, pain relief, talking you through it bc he's a nice boy, cross-posted on ao3

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡

it was twisted, the way fox was turned on by you being sick. it checked every fantasy in his head off the list and you didn't even know.

by the time you got off work last night, you felt the brain fog rolling in, and you came straight to fox’s place instead of your own- and he was more than happy to oblige you. he wanted to set you up in his bed, but you refused, so he made you a little home on his couch, fixed with his good pillows and the blanket you designated as your own months ago. the man had been itching to come home all day. his brain was so out of the loop, in fact, that he handed dana a case report only half completed, with sentences stopping midway through. his partner had to force him out of the office just so he didn’t screw anything else up, but he couldn’t care less, because he was on his way home to his girl. he even went to the store to get you ginger ale and animal crackers, because he knows that’s your favorite remedy. and god, if you weren't everything he’d been dreaming of since he left you last. 

you were splayed out on his couch beneath a blanket, coughing up a storm. your nose was red and irritated from blowing it into so many tissues, lips swollen from all the chapstick and chewing; a glassy, sleepy look glazed over your eyes, and your skin paled everywhere but your cheeks, which were flushed in a pretty little smear across your face. you were in his old academy t-shirt, which left room to breathe- he was a bit bigger back then, lucky for you- and a little pair of boxers that were hiked up your thighs from sitting in them all day. you were the vision he couldn’t have conjured even if he tried. he wished that they could make a calendar of just you, looking like this, for every month until he died. but above all, your voice was the part that truly drove him up the wall. you didn’t think of the raspiness as much more than grating, but to him? gruff, weak, gentle, needy, undeniably brutally irrefutably hot- he had a thesaurus written just to put it to words. every word that fell from your lethargic lips was like music to his ears; he could listen to your stuffy breathing forever.

fox had been taking care of you, despite your protests to leave you be. you didn't want to get him sick, but he didn't care. he insisted on keeping you company and doing mindless work at his living room desk until you felt like getting back into the world. that was another thing. seeing you helpless and dependent on him, needing him to feel better… he loved that. he loved spoiling you, feeding you, treating you like a princess. that's what you were to him. there was so much in his life that was out of his control, that he couldn’t protect, but you were the one constant thing he could keep safe. the one thing he could selfishly keep. there was no chance he was going to give that up so easily, not when you were catering to his urges so wonderfully.

it was getting late, but you'd slept all day, so the exhaustion behind your eyes was keeping you awake. overtired and restless, your head was throbbing, and you couldn't get comfortable. the man heard rustling from the couch and turned in his desk chair, a serene smile on his face. he noticed you shifting awkwardly and came to the rescue.

"what is it, baby?"

you ceased trying to rearrange the contents of the couch and let yourself flop against the pillows, huffing in aggravation. "ugh, nothing. just can't get comfy."

"let me help you," fox urged. he rose from his chair and stalked over, kneeling dutifully at the couch's edge to help you adjust the pillows behind your head and beneath your legs. "better?"

"mhm. thank you."

"of course. how’re you feeling?"

"not good," you pouted, voice thick with strain, "my head is killing me, and my stomach is aching. and my nose and throat, too… i took some medicine not too long ago, but it’s taking forever to kick in… ugh. you know i hate being sick."

that childish pout had his stomach churning. he knew this wasn't about him, and you needed rest, but he also couldn't ignore how enticing you looked, all innocent and sleepy on his couch. how you trailed off between thoughts, working through the sick haze in your head. he leaned over a bit to rest his hands on your lower abdomen, pressing the heels of his palms against your belly softly. you hummed at the touch, and he had to force his eyes not to roll back.

"what can i do to make you feel better?"

"can..." you trailed off. "maybe you could cuddle me?"

"i'd love to."

the man climbed onto the couch without a thought, allowing his body to mold to how yours curved. you felt his strong chest rising and falling against your back, the constancy soothing as he draped his arm over your side, letting his rough hands drift slowly back down to your tummy. fox pressed a few lazy kisses behind your ears, causing the hair on your arms to stand up stiff. his lips were always warm, but with your skin burning up as it was, they felt frigid.

"too cold?"

"mm-mm," you hummed. maybe they were, but you weren’t going to jeopardize him stopping. 

fox was starting to disregard his better judgment as he tucked himself into you, feeling the feverish heat of your back. he was more attuned to the motions you made than his thoughts. the way your hands, so soft, just a touch smaller than his own, laid safely atop his wrists; how when he rubbed slow circles against your aching stomach, you made a little noise that was something heavenly, both hum and sigh; how your left foot ran up and down your right leg, feeling the fuzzy fabric of the blanket wedged between. he was so lost in how good it felt to be wanted that it was crossing over into obsession. he wanted every square inch of you to need his attention. he wanted to touch every spot that felt sick and nurse you back to life- to have it engrained in your head that only he could make it feel better, and no one else. 

so engrossed in his urges, fox kissed a little more, and what started as innocent turned urgent. he sucked softly behind your ear, nipping relentlessly on that sensitive spot you had. you began to pant, feeling the fever chills leave and a different kind of warmth roll over you. you pushed your hips into his hands, trying not to squirm and failing miserably. 

"oh, god," you covered your face with your hands. “fox…”

fox’s low laugh rumbled against your shoulder blades. the man relished in your inability to resist. his fingers began to travel down to your boxers, and he tucked his hand right below the waistband. he put pressure right against your heat and you buried your face as best as possible into the couch cushion, letting out a helpless whine.

"feels good, right, baby?"

"a-ah," you hiccuped.

"m'just gonna touch it, that's all,”

"but-"

"i can make you feel so much better," he kissed your ear, "make all those aches go away so fast, baby. can i?”

"please," you whispered.

he reached down and dragged his fingers along the fabric separating him from what he wanted, feeling the wetness beneath. his touch was feather-light, and as he gently wriggled his fingers beneath the cotton, you squeezed your eyes shut and scratched softly at the knuckles of his hand still on your waist. you were struggling to do anything other than lie there, but he didn’t need a thing from you anyway. eagerly, you felt his steady fingers brush against your entrance, and his lips parted hungrily at how slick you were.

"god, you're so easy, aren’t you?"

fox dipped two fingers inside you, testing the waters. when your hips rocked back into his, he couldn’t bite back the greedy smile that overtook his face. impatient, he pushed them deeper, feeling the familiar pressure of you squeezing around his hand. you licked your chapped lips, feeling a knot tying itself in your tummy where he worked his fingers inside you. he’d been away a lot recently, so much so that this was a reminder of just how long his fingers truly were. 

"mm, now how’s that, sweetheart?"

"it’s… good," you drawled.

"you like it when i touch you like this, don't you? y’like how my fingers feel?"

you turned your head to look down at where his wrist disappeared beneath your boxers, and you keeled back against the pillow, meeting his broad shoulder. you shuddered in pleasure, and he craned his neck over to lock you in a kiss, feeling possessive like never before. he tasted the minty vicks above your lip and moaned right into your mouth.

"my poor, sick girl… just need me, don't you, baby? oh, you just want me to make it feel better, i know."

you practically melted into the couch as he buried his fingers between your hips. skillfully, he maneuvered you onto your back and crawled up and over so you could lay flat; he anchored his arm right over your head so he could stare down and watch the bliss reach your rosy face, all the while never taking his hand away. once you started breathing heavily and clenching around his fingers, he pulled them out, dragging his slick fingertips across your stomach, leaving shiny streaks behind. when you groaned at the loss, he clicked his tongue.

"no whining, angel. i'm not done. i'm gonna take good care of you."

you watched through spinning vision as he pushed down the couch, crawling low until he could lean over your hips. then, with his big palms stationed between your thighs, he spread you wide, ogling your plush pink folds.

"you're so pretty, baby. my pretty girl."

he pressed a few kisses on the mound just above where you ached, sending shocks up to the tips of your hair. then, he dipped his tongue right inside. he was too needy to start with kitten licks, so instead he swirled around, curling his tongue like a hook, big button nose rubbing against your clit as he breathed you like air. you were officially somewhere new, somewhere out of your own mind; his tongue was so long it could've been one of his god-given fingers, so warm inside you, so deep you couldn't see straight. 

"mmm- god- i love you.”

your toes curled as he moaned all kinds of sweet nothings into you, feeling the soundwaves rolling against your walls. just when his tongue had you going, he moved up to your clit and began sucking so hard you started seeing stars. you clamped your thighs around his head and felt his strong, rough hands grip the chub on them hard, fingertips digging enough to leave moon-shaped bruises. you tugged on his hair, unable to do anything but feel him against you and try not to slip away. but there was no stopping the way you floated in limbo, surrounded by the way he made you feel.

"fuck, baby, look at you," he growled between your hips. "c’mon. let me hear that scratchy little voice of yours."

"oh my god," you moaned, "oh, y-you... i... fox,"

"fuck, that's it. is it good, love, am i good?"

"you're so good! so…s-so good…fuck!" you fought not to trail off, but thinking was hard enough as it is.

“that’s my job, sweetheart.”

he kept himself there, getting off on the way you bucked your hips against his jaw. it didn’t take much longer for the burning in your stomach to grow unbearable, and through trembling little spasms confined by his stronghold on your waist, you unraveled right on his tongue. he came up for air with milky lips after working it out of you for a minute, pressing wet kisses all up your stomach and chest. you felt so dirty as you smiled down at the sheen trail of cum prints in the shape of his pretty lips.

“good girl. did that help?"

"mhm," you heaved, head spinning. “need…”

"what? what is it?"

"i- oh..."

"use your words, princess. words."

"c-can you- you..."

he knew what you wanted. he saw it in the pathetic way you glanced from your hips to his, too worked up to get it out. he chuckled in a way that sent chills up your legs and said, "awh, baby. you want me to fuck you now?"

you bit your lip and bucked your hips in the air. he lodged his leg between your thigh with a smirk and you pressed yourself against it, grinding on the worn fabric of his sweatpants. he felt a wet patch soaking through to his skin, and he twitched in anticipation. you batted your eyelashes and let out a raspy little noise, tugging at the hem of his t-shirt while you moved. and when a sniffle interrupted your humming, it drove him right over the edge.

"fuck. you’re so cute, you little tease.”

he shimmied his sweatpants down in an instant and wasted no time, groaning gutterally as he pushed in and bottomed out. you were hot around him, pulsing like a steady heartbeat.

"fuck, baby. never gets old,” he swooned, pressing a gentle kiss to your chin.  

he began to thrust in and out, hips rolling religiously into the curve of your legs. you clung to his shoulders and tugged him down so he was stuck against your neck, breath hot. he began to fuck you faster, pressing starving kisses to your collarbone, and you arched your back, gasping for a solid breath.

"oh my god!"

"god, you’re so tight," he growled, “been saving it all up for me, huh? missed me bad, i can tell,”

"mm… fox!”

"you like it when i fuck you like this? right on the couch, where anybody could see in that window? say it, baby,”

"i love it," you croaked, gathering the little tufts of overgrown hair at the nape of fox’s neck and tugging them in a last-ditch effort to ground yourself. he tipped his head back into your touch and whined, and you gave a dizzy, darling smile.

"god, i love you. i love you, i love you, i fucking love you," he praised, timing every confession with a thrust of his hips.

all you could manage was a distracted, "m-me... too... ah!"

your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he uprighted himself and yanked you by the love handles, dragging you down the couch like a doll. he clawed at your hips, leaving red marks he’d have to soothe later. fox snapped harder and harder, losing control but not caring at all; you let him take you in his hands, surrendering until you couldn't take anymore, and suddenly the knot in your stomach burst. you shivered and writhed all around, whispering his name like a strangled prayer as your hands searched for something to squeeze. he leaned down so you could grab his biceps, and you scratched at them like a cat, a string of lewd things falling from your tired mouth. he came undone as you clenched around him, and his warmth in your tummy was so thick you felt like you could feel it in your throat. 

"so good, baby, jesus christ," fox wheezed. "you sound so pretty when you’re sick. can’t help myself."

you were nearly unresponsive. your head had never spun the way it did now, and your ears felt like they were stuffed with cotton, along with your throat. you couldn't form any words, all you could do was claw at his arms and tremble, face stuck in a permanent state of bliss. 

"feeling any better?" fox pressed little kisses to your chin and neck and eyes, and he traced shapes on your stomach to wake you up. "come on, princess, open your eyes. come back to me.” when you smiled and sighed, letting out an embarrassed giggle, he cooed, "there she is, my pretty girl."

"mhm."

"still feel bad?"

you shook your head sweetly, eyes drooping. "nuh-uh."

his heart swelled and he just wanted to eat you alive, so he did the next best thing. he leaned down and kissed your swollen lips with a softness he abandoned just minutes ago, swiping his tongue against your lips and all over your face. he kissed you with all the maneuvers of love he could muster, and you hummed against his mouth, pulling on his hair to hear those pretty little sounds again.

"you’ve got me so whipped, sweetheart," he purred between kisses, "just wanna take care of you."

"you're so good at it," you blushed.

"i do what i can." 

he kissed and kissed and kissed you into the couch, and all that kissing got heated, and one thing led to another because the two of you simply couldn’t help yourselves. and the next day, he woke up as sick as you. who saw that coming?

[muldermuse]

Hallöchen!

Will it be okay for you to write a nsfw sequel to “reader gets jealous of Fox’s new coworker” headcanon? That ending was perfection 🤌🏼

PS Love love love your writing and can’t wait for spooky season fics 💗

the fact that i will never get to make out with Fox Mulder in his dingy basement </3333

nsfw belowwwwwww

(also this is the hc that was referenced in the ask!!! i love u all tysm for sending things through)

Fox had been working a new case, Scully was off so he had this new agent with him…and god, she was gorgeous. A bright smile, beautifully styled hair and her shirt and skirt combo was pressed within an inch of it’s life. She was called Amber and yes, she was gorgeous- she was also rude. A rude person. A rude person who was currently staring at your fiancee like he was a slice of cake.

You brought her and Fox a coffee (you’d learned from your interactions with Agent Wilson), Fox smiled and thanked you as he took a sip of his usual flat white. Amber didn’t take a sip, she politely smiled but did not make eye contact with you. She didn’t thank you. A lot of these things may sound petty but in this moment; you decided you had to do something. 

You manage to leave your desk early so you can be there for when Fox and Amber are leaving the basement. She confirms with a wink that she’ll be there for 9am sharp and Fox politely agrees with a smile as he wraps you into his arms and asks you about your day. You do not miss the way Amber’s eyes track your body up and down before she leaves. You can practically smell the jealousy coming off her body.

To be honest, it kinda makes you feel primal. He’s your fiancee, you wear your engagement ring every day, Fox’s desk has two framed pictures of you and Amber definitely knows about your relationship. So, even though you have already made your relationship clear to one co-worker, you realise you need to go nuclear with this one. 

***

The plan starts in the morning, whilst Fox is showering and brushing his teeth, you apply your dewy make up and put his favourite lipstick on. You time it perfectly to ensure that when Fox is leaving the shower (with a towel hanging loosely around his waist) he sees you bent over your vanity in your garter and suspenders. Fox has never been shy about how much he loves them, when he goes down on you he asks if you can put just them on with no underwear so he can feel the nylon of the tights pressed against his ears. You clock his expression in the mirror as he realises how you’re dressed. Before he can see your smirking reflection in the mirror, his naked body is pressed against you.

“Baby, you can’t do this- we have to go to work” He presses slow kisses to the back of your neck as you continue to dab on your lipstick “How am I supposed to work knowing you’ve got this on all day”.

You know the plan is stupid. Really stupid and like something from an awful porno- but as Fox slept soundly last night, you ran through the plan in your head and you’re fully committed to it.

You run your hands through his damp hair and press your chest close to his; feeling his heart rate accelerating with the skin to skin contact. You move your hands down to his waist and run your fingers lightly over his towelled waist.

“I’m not sure baby…you’re just going to have to try really really hard” You softly bite his neck and push his towel down, your hand passes gently over his hard dick. He moans into the touch and kisses you deeply. You make eye contact with a smirk.

“I need to get to the office early today so you’ve got 5 minutes” You press a quick kiss to his lips as you scamper off. Fully aware of how great your ass looks with the garter and suspenders. You know you have Fox wrapped around your finger at this point.

Fox drives to the office and the tension is high, he keeps his hand on your thigh throughout the drive and keeps rubbing his thumb higher and higher. You can’t help as you move in your seat and moan softly into his touch. As he parks up, he kisses you and gently slips his tongue into your mouth. He goes to open his door but before he can leave, you kiss the side of his face and whisper into his ear that you forgot to put panties on this morning. Fox looks at you dumbstruck as you exit the car and head to the elevator to take you to the basement.

***

All this planning had lead to the moment that Amber walks in. You’re obviously not fucking over Fox’s desk (although it was highly tempting, it was also a lil bit unprofessional) but to be honest, the scene she walks into is just as intimate. Fox’s shirt and your skirt have been thrown onto the ground as you straddled him on his office chair. You were pressing deep kisses to his neck and feeling his moans leave his mouth. He has one hand grabbing your ass and the other one tangled in your hair to push you deeper into his neck. 

It’s highly compromising.

It’s private.

It’s fucking perfect.  

You know it’s Amber by the gasp and the sound of two disposable coffees being dropped on the floor in shock. “Oh my god-Fox I’ll give you a minute”. The door quickly slams shut as Fox kisses you in apology. 

“Fuck baby, I’m so sorry…I knew she was coming in early just…time got away from me I suppose” He grabs your skirt from the floor and throws it at you, both of you trying to hold back giggling as you quickly dress in an attempt to look professional- despite what you’ve both just been caught doing. 

Fox pulls you into a kiss before he goes to sit down, he goes to wipe the smudged eye make up from your under eye but you stop him before he gets chance. The smirk on your lips seemingly reveals your sordid plan. Fox smirks back at you, he pulls you into a deep kiss as he grabs your ass with both hands, he murmurs against your lips “Pretty good revenge plan baby”.