#fox mulder smut

[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]

fox mulder nsfw alphabet (for female/feminine readers)

an a-z of what's it's like to be loved by fox mulder in allllll the ways you wish you could be.

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i’ve never made one of these before so i followed another post’s example! a lot of this is chubby-girl friendly but also works for any body type. also, i got carried away so enjoy how long this is LOL. <3

my ao3 | word count: 3,537

content tags: smut smut smut SO MUCH SMUT, dom fox mulder, soft fox mulder, nsfw alphabet challenge, lots of kinks but i don't wanna spoil you gotta read it :), mentions of period/period blood, cross-posted on ao3

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a: aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

he is sweet. like, really sweet. he loves to be gentle, to tell you how pretty you are and how good you did for him, praising you up and down and giving you lots of slow, adoring kisses. he also tends to get a bit bashful, because even if he just fucked you senseless you still give him butterflies; so often he hides his face in the crook of your neck or lays on your stomach, and talks quietly, like he’s shy. all his guards are down, and he is wholly dependent and doting on you.

actionwise, he cleans you up and helps you into some clean pajamas, but he usually leaves you bottom-less because you tend to be sensitive and the feeling of fabric between your legs can be an overload on your senses. but he covers you however he can, and he combs through your hair, gets you water, helps you get comfortable in bed. he’s so gentle it’s straight-up dreamy. 

b: body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

on himself, fox likes his hands. he knows they’re pretty big, considering he’s a bit tall, and he thinks they look strong, but he takes more pride in them also being soft. he has some callouses, but the pads of his fingers are smooth. and when he met you, you told him how nice they looked and felt, and that won him over.

on you, he can’t pick between your love handles/waist and thighs. he loves to squeeze where you have the most skin, and both of those places are where your body curves. he loves your softer edges, and because his hands are big, he can grab a lot more of you. he also loves how you react to him touching you in these places- you’re sensitive there, and you shiver when he drags his fingers across you or grips you hard. your reaction plays a big part in favoriting those spots. (bonus: he loves your hands too, because they’re smaller than his and caress his face softly… and scratch up his back. we'll get to that later.)

c: cum (anything to do with cum)  

you actually tease him about this a lot, because he gets really eager sometimes and can’t hold it in. he’s developed a routine where he takes his time with you and draws your pleasure out as long as he can because he knows the second he starts actually fucking you, he won’t last long; and he is so much more interested in letting you be the one who receives, he gets off on stringing you out. also, it takes you a while to cum, so his pleasure-driven role is that much more important to him, because he will not stop until you do. and he loves when you finally cum way more than when he does. he likes to taste you, and make you taste yourself when he kisses you with coated lips. 

d: dirty secret

the night of the first day he met you, he had an insanely vivid wet dream about you. even having been with you intimately plenty of times now, he gets nervous to bring it up, because when you’re not around, he still draws on that dream to get off to. it's kind of his guilty pleasure. in it, you drag him into his office at work and let him eat you out on his desk, all over his files and papers. you were in a pleated schoolgirl skirt, and you kept it on for him to tug at. one day he’ll tell you (probably) and buy you a skirt, just so he can have the real thing. 

e: experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

the majority of his experience comes from all the porn he’s watched. despite his drive, he was always the one to take it slow with past girlfriends, and either they didn’t stick around long enough to wait for him, or when he did sleep with them, he didn’t have enough practice to make it how they wanted it. but he paid attention to how girls like to be touched and fantasized about being good at those parts. when he met you, you were even more inexperienced than him, so everything he did was like heaven to you, and he only gets better each time. he feels lucky to have you to learn with because you’re patient and you love everything he does, so he doesn’t feel pressure. 

f: favorite position

fox is somewhat old-fashioned. he loves missionary because it’s simple, and he can kiss you more that way, and it’s easy to be gentle or rough depending on what you both want. he also likes standing missionary for the same reason, particularly for times when you want him to be rougher. but the freaky part of him likes these because he wants to watch you surrender, to see all of you beneath him, powerless, as he brings you to climax. he wants to see your eyes haze over, how you struggle to speak while he pins you down. that way, you’re all his.

fox also really loves cowgirl, because he can still see all of you that way, but when you’re feeling particularly eager he likes letting you do the work. you’re still submissive even on top, because he needs to guide your hips and tell you to keep moving. he likes cowgirl even more when you ride him while he’s upright, like against the headboard or in a chair, because you bury your face in his neck as you work, and he loves being so close to you. plus, it took you little to no time to figure out exactly how to ride him right. and because he cums so fast most of the time, you usually ride him through his overstimulation, which puts him out of commission for the night. he can get obsessive about how good that one feels. 

g: goofy (are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)

he can be, because he’s naturally got a goofy streak. but unless you’re feeling giggly or playful, he just falls into that mode of being soft and dominant, talking dirty, and trying to fluster you. 

h: hair (how well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

he keeps it trim just for hygiene, but you expressed a lack of concern for that, especially since you don’t always keep yourself trim either. it can be tedious to always be clean-shaven (and he doesn’t mind if you’re a little hairy, just like you don’t care if he is.) but, he does not touch his chest hair, because you are vehement that he keeps it. 

i: intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

god, he is so intimate that it can leave you blushing for days after the fact. he does nothing but kiss and nip and lick, mouth and hands always on you; always whispering pretty things in your ears, dirty and gentle about how good you feel and smell and sound, about how pretty you look when he’s inside you. and innocent things, too. he tells you how pretty your tummy is, and your collarbones, every little part of your body gets admired. he tells you about how he loves your laugh and your smile, and how he's so lucky to have you all to himself. he takes every chance to make you feel cherished and important. he tells you how in love he is over and over like a mantra so that by the time he’s got you in the clouds, all you can think is he loves me, he loves me, he loves me… 

j: jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he jacks off fairly often, but only because he’s usually thinking of you. if you’re not around or he’s away on a case, he gets needy and takes matters into his own hands, because he can’t help his dirty mind. he’s done it everywhere- his office, the work bathroom, in just about every room in his house. and, though he’d probably never admit it to you, he likes to hold your clothes sometimes when he does, because the smell of your perfume drives him crazy. he always takes something of yours when he goes away, just in case.

k: kink (one or more of their kinks)

okay, he’s got a few, but mainly because they’re kinks based on how you act or what he wants for you. so we’ll start with the kinks surrounding your pleasure: 

obvious by now, praise. he loooves to praise. he’s crazy about you and how you make him feel, both emotionally and physically; he’s protective and loving, and he prizes you. he would make you cum just with words if he could. he adores pet names and anything he can call you, he will- princess, sweetheart, darling, honey, love, all of it. especially good girl, his personal favorite. he wants you to feel like the most special girl in the world because, to him, you are.

fox loves begging. he likes it for him, he likes to beg you for more, but he prefers when you beg. there’s something about watching you need him, and how your voice gets high-pitched and disgustingly lewd as you tell him what you want him to do. he loves being in control. 

daddy!subspace. there are times when fox gets a little too into it, and you fall into a subspace. he loves this, especially yours, because you mix his name up with daddy, and every freudian instinct in his brain fires like crazy. he loves when you call him daddy, because that opens the praise door nice and wide, and he loves helping you come down after, because you get so flushed and nervous and you’re simply adorable when you need help speaking and asking for what you want. 

now, fox’s personal kinks still have to do with you, but they're out of his own selfishness: 

belly bulges. it’s no surprise because he’s so possessive, but something inside him snaps than when he takes your hand and presses it against the pudge of your tummy, where you can feel his cock poking against your walls. he loves being just big enough to fill you, and he loves how you go cross-eyed every time he does this, too- it’s just as hot for you as it is for him. 

hands. he loves your hands and he wants them on him always, scratching him, marking his body with little red lines. they’re just small enough to make him feel big, and he loves your painted nails, too. he loves it when you pull on his shirt or his belt loops. he loves when you press them all over his face and chest because you don’t know what to do with them. he also loves to use his hands on you, to wrap softly around your neck and wrists, to pin your hips down, to push inside you; he has a penchant for sticking his thumbs in your mouth while he fucks you, too, because you always suck them like it’s your job. but there’s nothing like your hands on him. 

here’s the big one: your period. fox likes making you a pillow princess, but he’s a monster when it comes to your period. you were worried when he said he didn’t mind the blood, but that first time he ate you during your time of the month was otherworldly. he loves the extra sensitivity you have, because it takes little to nothing to get you screaming, and some dark part of him loves to smear your blood all across his mouth and his chin. he loves to kiss you with those lips, leaving bloody prints up your stomach and chest, all over your neck and mouth. he craves the mess, the taboo nature of it all, and he loves how it’s a way of gently defiling you; mixing your blood with his spit, with his cum, it makes you his and him yours. maybe there’s a screw loose on his part, but if cannibalism didn’t mean you’d die, he’d fucking eat you whole. he even likes the taste. like i said, obsessive- but it’s kind of hot, isn't it?

l: location (favorite places to do the do)

honestly, anywhere. just the fact that you want him is good enough. he’s gotten you off in restaurant bathrooms, and at family homes during holidays when you just needed him and couldn’t wait. but he is partial to his couch or his bed because he likes having you all to himself in his own space.

m: motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

acting stupid. he loves when you ask him to explain things to you, even if you understand on your own, because he likes teaching you; he also gets all hot and bothered when you pout or frown, or bat your eyelashes innocently, saying “can you start at the beginning?” or “can you go a little slower for me?”. because he knows you’re smart and the slight frustration of you acting like you’re not mixed with the need to pamper you gets him going like crazy.

saying his name. if you call him fox, or sometimes foxie, he’s just about ready to fall to his knees. nobody calls him fox, so to hear you say it isn’t just intimate and special, but it’s also so sexy. you say it so many ways, but when you want him, he’s never liked the sound of it more. 

his biggest motivation is your neediness. it seems that when you get going, you never want to stop. you want him to keep kissing, keep touching, keep licking, whatever it is you want more, and when you finish you want to start all over again because you get drunk on him- and that could keep fox going until he dies. he wants to give you everything you want, even if you never return the favor. he likes being yours to use. 

n: no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

fox does not like to degrade you, which might be odd for a guy who’s so controlling and protective, but it’s not in his nature. he loves you. he cherishes you. he couldn’t tell you you’re dirty, or you’re a slut, or any of the terms that might get other people off, because he doesn’t believe them. he thinks you’re perfect, an angel, so good, and he only wants to remind you of those. he wants you to feel loved. 

he also won’t hurt you. certain things he’ll do, like he’ll choke you or pin your wrists down, but he won’t be overly rough and he won’t leave bruises or make it hurt. you don’t fight back, so he doesn’t need to be anything other than assertive.

o: oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

he prefers giving 100%. he likes it when you give him head because he likes seeing your pretty eyes look up at him, but he cums too fast to enjoy you doing it- plus, he can’t hear your noises when your mouth is full. he’d much rather just fuck you if he’s going to receive any pleasure. and god, is he good at it. 

p: pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

he’s slow until he gets inside you. typically he likes to take his time on you, but when he starts fucking you, it starts to feel so good and you sound so pretty that he loses a little control and starts being rough. that part usually takes the shortest amount of time but it feels fantastic because he goes fast. 

q: quickie (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

if you two are going to have a quickie, it’s going to be because you’re extremely horny in a place where he can’t take his time, and he simply can’t resist relieving you. but he really likes to be alone with you and go slow, draw it out as long as he can, and take good care of you. he wants sex to be special, he doesn’t want you to ever feel like it’s just a means to an end. sex is about love for him, not just a way to get his fix.

r: risk (are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

fox is willing to try anything, but you both are a bit vanilla, in that sense. you only need him to feel good, and he doesn’t want to restrain you from being able to move and moan and touch him. most of the experimenting is verbal- he likes to push how far he can tease, and how much he can say to get you there. the trend seems to be that the dirtier he talks, the more pleasure you feel, and he wants to max you out. 

s: stamina (how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

he’s gotten better at lasting, but he can’t draw it out too long. he has a hard time stopping himself. but he can go a few rounds without getting tired or spending it all because of how eager he is to keep touching you, which is nice. that’s why he spends his time on you, because you can last longer, and he doesn’t need much. 

t: toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

fox doesn’t have any toys. he is more than okay with you having them because if he’s not around, he can’t expect you to wait for him if you really need a release, and sometimes your hands aren’t enough. if he’s away on a case, sometimes he’ll call at night and talk you through it over the phone, so he at least has a little part in it. but he likes to be the one and only thing you can get it from when he’s with you, and so do you. 

u: unfair (how much they like to tease)

oh, he loves to tease. he loves to talk and talk and talk, so much that sometimes you have to ask him to shut up and go faster. he wants to see you completely flustered from just his words, and honestly, he can get you halfway there on conversation alone. he knows just what to say, and how to say it, and it can be torturous, but you love it. and physically he teases, too, because he favors stringing you out. it can feel unfair at times, but you like it too much to care.

v: volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make)

he has two sides. most of the time, he’s quiet, low, gruff; he grunts, he moans, sometimes growls if he’s really feeling possessive. but when he’s close, it turns into the most adorable whining. right in your ear, too. he pants and stammers, and easily gets overwhelmed. it’s not too high-pitched, but it’s needy and uncontrollable, and it sounds so, so pretty. 

w: wild card (random headcanon) 

fox never kisses and tells. he doesn’t have many friends, but if anybody tries to inquire into his sex life, he won’t say a word. he wants to keep it all to himself, and he refuses to let anyone know a thing about you or how you act when you’re intimate with him. he respects your privacy and he doesn’t want anyone else thinking about you in that way. he also knows he has something special with you- sex with you is really emotional and involved for him, and he doesn’t want to just air out his love to other people. 

x: x-ray (let’s see what’s going on in those pants)  

(oh myyy, am i blushing.) a bit thick, and give or take maybe six, six and a half inches hard- no, give. he’s big. it’s veiny, especially when he’s overstimulated. and it’s curved up a bit at the tip- which is a pretty shade of pink, by the way. cute, just like him.

y: yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

anytime, any place. he always wants you. he can keep it under control of course- he gets through every day just fine. but he’s always thinking about you, and even when it’s innocent, he yearns to be with you and make you feel good. his dick loves you almost as much as his heart does. 

z: zzz (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

for a guy who can’t sleep, fox gets pretty tired after, but he can stay up way longer than you can. usually, you need some aftercare, and you fall asleep shortly after, and he likes to stay awake to watch you sleep because your blush lasts and your skin is still hot. he loves to admire you for a while when you’re not watching. he also gets hungry after, so he usually stays up to eat something, and then he’ll crawl back into bed and pull your sleepy body in close. 

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

this actually put me through hell to write because i want him so bad it’s driving me insane. hope you enjoyed, you little freaks. gonna go think about that period kink now. 

[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 :)

[muldermuse]

Fox Mulder Masterlist

Fox Mulder X Reader: One Shots

Peanuts

You meet an interesting stranger at a bar

First Date

Your first date with Fox

Halloween Party

Your boyfriend, Fox Mulder, convinces you not to go to your work Halloween Party

The Best Medicine

Fox takes care of you when you are ill

Jealous Fox

Fox gets jealous when he sees a coworker flirt with you

Houseplants

Fox helps you move into your first apartment

A Hard Day

Fox helps you through a bad mental health day

The Name Game 

You and Fox struggle to decide a name for your kitten

The Most Haunted Forest in South Carolina

Fox invites you camping 

Jealously, Jealousy

Fox doesn’t like how interested Alex Krycek is in you

Okay is not enough (Part 1)

Your family are being held captive by one of Fox’s previous encounters

Fox Mulder X Reader: Headcanons

Protective Fox Mulder

Fox has a crush on his coworker

Subtle ways Fox shows he has a crush

How Fox acts around Reader

Reader gets jealous of Fox’s new coworker

NSFW version of above^^^

NSFW Fox thoughts

Fox misses you

Reader’s birthday

Your cat loves Fox

Fox cheers you up

Forgetful mornings with Fox

Fox misses you after a trip (some nsfw)

Fox loves lingerie (some nsfw)

Dad!Fox Mulder

Dad!Fox Mulder 2

Modern Fox Mulder

Fox is a Buzzfeed Unsolved fan

Halloweeny Fox Thoughts 1, 2 and 3

Muldermuse October Writing Fest

Spooky Pyjamas (Dad!Fox Mulder x Reader)

A new family tradition is started

A Halloween Announcement (Fox Mulder X Reader)

As title states...it’s a halloween announcement

Trick ‘r Treat (Fox Mulder X Reader)

Fancy dress SMUT

Halloween Party (Cat Dad!Fox Mulder X Reader)

Fox has a party with your cat

Haunted House (Dad!Fox Mulder X Reader)

You come home from work to a haunted house

Halloween Card (Dad!Fox Mulder X Reader)

Fox receives a special card from his family

Ghosts (Modern! Fox Mulder X Reader)

A drabble about doing a ghost walk with Fox

Fox is creative (Modern! Fox Mulder X Reader)

Fox loves Halloween recipes

Ghost Hunting (Fox Mulder X Reader)

A hc about ghost hunting with Fox

[dollmulder]

afternoon

pairing: fox mulder x fem!reader

word count: 7.8k

warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, oral (f recieving), fingering

other tags: it’s alluded to that mulder is trans

authors note: i originally posted this on ao3 under the same title and username (afternoon by dollmulder) if you’d rather read it there :) otherwise, enjoy!

p.s, as i stated on ao3 this is the first bit of writing i’ve done in some years now, and it’s also the first ever explicit smut scene ive written, so i apologize if it’s not that great as i really have no idea what im doing here and my skills are rather rusty. but i do hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!

you stood in front of the stove that belonged to the kitchen of your small apartment. before you, a pink kettle was placed on the burner, while you patiently waited for the water inside to boil. it was midday, and for once neither you nor fox had any plans. typically, when one of you wasn’t tied up with work, the other one was. however, today was different, and you intended to take full advantage of it.

you may have wasted part of the day by sleeping in until the afternoon, but you couldn’t help it. fox was asleep in your bedroom still, and he looked so agonizingly beautiful while he slept. not that he didn’t when he was awake, because by god he did, but being able to lie in bed next to him, admiring him and listening to his heartbeat thrum in his chest was an experience like no other. the way his eyelashes rested upon his cheeks, and how he snuggled his face deeper into the pillow now and then.

you enjoyed moments of domesticity like that, even though they were somewhat fleeting. oftentimes the two of spent your time together at his apartment, and when you weren’t doing that, he was either at work or off chasing the paranormal. sometimes he would invite you on these excursions, and generally you would go if you weren’t busy with work yourself, but it seems this weekend he had nothing planned for once. it was as if all the stars were aligned to give you both this perfect day, and you were hoping to keep it that way.

you drummed your fingers against the wooden countertop, impatiently waiting as your thoughts drifted from weekends spent with fox to other mundane things, like going over your to-do list of errands for this weekend, laundry, dishes, shopping, etc. and you wondered how many of those things you were actually going to be able to check off. you decided though that for today, your list could wait. today was going to be a perfect day, you said to yourself, as if manifesting it to be true.

you watched the kettle for a moment longer but a watched pot never boils, and almost as if a meant to be a perfectly planned distraction, you heard your bedroom door creak open, and the soft thuds of fox’s feet making his way down the hall. you smiled to yourself, and turned around just in time to see him leaning in the archway, his hair looking scruffy and his face still wrought by sleep. he was wearing nothing but boxers that clung to him loosely, and you must say, even then in this disheveled state, he looked breathtaking.

“i was wondering where you went,” he yawned, rubbing his eyes and still trying to rid the slumber from his system. you felt your heart flutter at the way his voice was laced with sleepiness, before you sauntered over to him, his large hands immediately finding their way to your hips, like following a well traveled road. it was instinctive for him.

you reached up and placed a chaste kiss to his lips, cupping his face as you did so, your hands moving down so your thumbs could glide over his paltry amount of stubble. “miss me?”

“always.” he smiled at you and you smiled back, before reaching up to give him another quick peck on the cheek.

“well, good morning- er, afternoon i guess.”

fox hummed, and after a beat he asked, “is it really that late?” his eyes roved over your body, eyeing your outfit, and you squirmed under his gaze.

“i see the mystery of my missing t shirt’s been solved,” he remarked before you had a chance to respond to his previous question, not that it mattered. fox had realized his shirt was missing a little while ago and he had figured you’d borrowed it or that he had misplaced it, but now that he knew for sure, this was another mystery he could check off from his ever-growing list. he supposed he could’ve asked you about it before, but it was never a top priority to him compared to other unsolved cases that wracked his brain on the constant.

you pulled out of his grasp, swaying your way back over to the stove, as his hand outreached, wanting to hold you still. “i borrowed it the other day,” you said facing away from him, pretending to be watching the kettle and biting your lip, thinking. “i hope you don’t mind.” you knew that he didn’t. he loved when you wore his clothes, when you gave them back and your scent lingered interwoven in the fabric, as if he needed any more reasons to put off doing his laundry.

“do you want any tea?” you cut through his thoughts, asking over your shoulder while you still faced the stove, and he hummed in approval.

suddenly, a smirk befell your face as you walked over to the cabinets, standing on your tippy toes to reach for two mugs. your- his -shirt rode up slightly, but just enough to expose your light blue underwear and the way it hugged your curves. you stretched a little more than you needed to, making sure he got the vision.

he hummed, too focused on watching your little display, eyes focused on your movements as he spoke, voice still slightly gruff from sleep. “you know that i don’t mind,” he trailed off, returning to your prior conversation. he pulled his plump bottom lip into his mouth, “but i’d like if you at least told me first.”

you grabbed the two mugs, one of which being a dusty blue color, with darker blue dots and little white ghosts swirling all around it, and the other was a translucent pink, with a red and pink strawberry pattern encompassing it. you placed them on the counter and stopped being on your tippy toes, his shirt falling back into place covering you back up for now. it was an old shirt of his, one from his time at oxford, and it hung slack around your smaller frame.

“im telling you now aren’t i?” you turned around and found fox stepping towards you, his arms coming to wrap around your waist. this was another thing the two of you usually did at his apartment, which made sense of course, as you both spent lots of the time you had together there, but last night, after staying particularly late at his office, fox called and decided to crash at your place as it was less of a drive than going back to his own apartment, and of course because he missed being in your presence. you gave him a key a short while ago so he could do just that, and because you loved having him in your space too. you couldn’t quite explain it but it made your apartment feel more like a home whenever he was here. you wondered if he felt the same about you being at his apartment, and decided he probably did, seeing as your presence there did make it more homely. you remembered when you used to continuously pester him about using his bedroom for it’s intended purpose instead of a large cluttered storage space, and he teased you back asking what you meant by “intended purpose”. you told him he’d have to find out, and that he did when the next time you came over his bedroom was decluttered, ready and waiting.

a flush aroused on your cheeks as you continued to think, now about last night, where upon his arrival here, you had ushered him to bed while he sleepily rambled to you about whatever it was he was working on, probably things he wasn’t supposed to tell you. all you could remember was something about government conspiracies and alien abductions, which was the usual topic of his sleepy rambling. that, and talking about you. you loved to listen to his sleepy words and babbling, even if it didn’t always make much sense to you.

then you thought of later that night when you both were in bed, sleepy fingers fumbling, touching, teasing one another in the dark. the way his hands slithered up and around your bare chest as yours did the same, before dipping down below his boxers while your mouth swallowed up the sleepy whines and whimpers that mewled past his lips.

“more like showing me,” fox chuckled, bringing you back to the here and now, and your blush deepened at his remark. he then pressed a kiss to your forehead, and you smiled, holding your left hand out to rest your palm against his chest. his skin was warm, much warmer than your cold fingers. as if to prove your point, he shivered a bit as your fingers delicately traced the two surgical scars across his chest.

“sorry,” you whispered, giggling and pulling your hand back to rest a finger on your bottom lip, doe eyes looking up at him, but just as suddenly as you did that, he grabbed your hand away and brought it to his own lips, kissing each of your dainty fingers. you smiled, going to take a step back but forgetting there was nothing but counter behind you. you were too enraptured by the moment to think about anything else, but just as soon as it happened it was over with.

“pretty,” he muttered to himself, before letting go and walking off towards presumably the bathroom, and you sighed into a smile, body still pressed to the counter behind you. he was such an interesting man, and you meant that in the best way possible. even from the very first moment you had met him, you couldn’t stop thinking about him and all of his intricacies. he had enthralled you from the beginning, and you couldn’t help but to question what he saw in you, not in a strongly self deprecating sense, but in the way that you questioned how you could compare to someone like him.

you knew if you told him these thoughts he would simultaneously shut them down and reflect them back at you, wondering what he did to deserve you .

you then turned and reached up again, this time towards a different cabinet, your fingers sliding under the lip of the wooden door, pulling it open with a low creak. you were looking for your tea bags, and after a moment of shuffling between boxes you finally found the one you were searching for. grabbing the box of just plain black tea, you opened it carefully and plopped a teabag into each mug, before closing the box back up and stretching once more to put it back into the cupboard where it belonged, in perfect timing as the kettle began whistling.

finding your way over to the stove, you grabbed the kettle and turned off the burner, then stepping back over to the counter and pouring some water into each mug. you heard fox shuffling his way back into the kitchen and shortly after felt one of his hands grab your hips, the other brushing your hair to the side so he could kiss at your neck.

“grab the honey for me?” you asked him, leaning over and placing the kettle back onto the stove, and he groaned, not wanting to let you go, but nevertheless he did, returning a moment later, honey in hand, which he had retrieved from the nearby cupboard behind you both. you turned around and outstretched the ghost mug towards him. “i’ll trade you,” you said, doing just that, knowing he preferred his tea without any honey in it.

he smiled, taking the mug and blowing some of the steam away from it. “you gave me this mug on purpose didn’t you?” he questioned, already knowing the answer, he just wanted an excuse to hear your angelic voice once more.

“of course, spooky.”

normally, he didn’t care for when people called him that name, not that it necessarily angered him, it was more annoyance at best, but with you it was different. you used it as a term of endearment, and he loved it, along with every other pet name you would call him. you had a way of spinning things into a positive light, one of the many, many, things he adored about you.

you turned back around to face the counter, grabbing a nearby spoon and stirring the honey into your tea, while he sat his mug down and put the bear-shaped honey bottle back into its home where it belonged. he came back behind you again, wrapping his arms around you and resting his head on your shoulder.

“what’s the plan for the rest of today?” he asked, snaking his large hands under his oxford shirt so that they could rest upon the bare skin of your hips. he hooked his thumbs under the band of your underwear, just wanting to be able to feel the coolness of your skin beneath his fingertips and the way it’s softness complemented the somewhat calloused nature of his hands.

“whatever you want to do, monster boy,” another pet name. “it’s your day off after all.”

he hummed. “it’s yours too.”

you sat your mug down in front of you waiting for it to cool off some more as it wasn’t ready for you to take your first sip, and then you turned to face him. “we both know you’re busy with work much more often than i am. even when you’re not working, you’re working . so you choose. i’m just happy to spend time with you,” you stretched up to press a lingering kiss to his lips, “but if i do get a say, brush your teeth, you have morning breath.” you paused… “er, afternoon breath.” and he smiled at you before groaning in mock annoyance.

in return, you batted and fluttered your eyelashes at him. “please?” and he smiled once more. how could he not give in to what an angel asked of him?

“oh i suppose, anything for you, my dearest.” and then off he went again, back towards the bathroom. you always kept a spare toothbrush for him in a cup at the sink. it made you smile in the mornings to see it there, just a little hint of his existence in your life, along with all the other little things around your apartment. you’ve left your fair share of belongings at his apartment, probably more than he has here, and with that thought, you made a mental note to yourself to steal more of his clothes and other belongings to have around.

sliding the mugs to the side, you hopped up on the countertop, grabbing your own mug and blowing the steam away as you waited for him to come back. you gently took a first sip of your tea, cursing at yourself as it was still too hot for you, so you resumed blowing on it, and as you did, your mind drifted, thinking about what kind of adventures the day ahead of you might hold. who knows with what fox might have in mind, always conjuring up some new adventure to fill the boredom of the rest of the day with. you were perfectly content with just lounging around your apartment in your underwear all day, not particularly wanting to go out and about and do anything, so you hoped he wouldn’t suggest anything of that nature. you didn’t want to have to take his shirt off in order to change into something more appropriate for outside wear, as you enjoyed the way his scent lingered around you. although, you decided, while you don’t necessarily want to take his shirt off to change out of it, you wouldn’t oppose to taking it off for other reasons.

your mind drifted, envisioning your previous escapades, your mind conjuring up pictures of his hands roaming your body, your hands slipping underneath his boxers, feeling him, teasing him, palming him in a way he had rarely let others do. the way his mouth hung open, his hands clutching your shirt, the bedsheets, whatever they could grab ahold of. excitement stirred in your abdomen and you shifted your hips, squeezing your thighs together. your hands became his in your mind, as the vision shifted to how he teased you, holding you, kissing you, fingers dipping beneath your lace trim to slip inside of you, and you bit your lip feeling a familiar hunger starting to growl within you.

last night the two of you had fooled around a bit before he dozed off, but it was barely anything more than soft touches and sleepy kisses, hushed i missed you ’s and whispered i love you ’s. even if your fingers had curled underneath his boxers, it was mere teasing, and it left your body (and his) wanting more, but you were sleepy and you knew he was too. however, now that your body and mind were awake, your desire was too.

after a moment fox returned and found his way over to you once more, moving to stand between your legs, and even with you sitting on the countertop he was still a bit taller than you. his hands rested on your thighs as he leaned down to kiss you slowly. it was a passionate kiss, and even though your bottom lip still tingled a bit from burning it with the hot tea, you ignored it and focused on the new tingling sensation. there was nothing better than a gentle kiss from fox mulder himself, and you’d never trade up this opportunity for anything.

“what’s gotten you so bothered?” he asked with a smirk, pulling his lips away from yours and picking up on your flushed face and warm skin, and the neediness you kissed him back with. in response, you wrapped your legs around his torso to keep him there before saying anything. this moment now felt like home. having the man of your dreams, the man of your reality , standing before you, between your legs, looking at you with such adoration you’d think it was like you had gifted him the whole world. but you did, because to him, you were his whole world.

“just thinking about you,” you hummed, your mug off to the side, forgotten about for now as you reached your hands around so your fingers could twirl themselves in the bit of hair at the nape of his neck, and then you smiled as you pondered for only a second.

“of me?” he asked, smirking as you looked at him with such innocence, but a gleam of something else in your eyes. a look he knew all too well. “me how?”

“oh, you know.” you shrugged, playing coy.

“enlighten me.”

“well, i do have an idea for something we could do today.”

he leaned down, kissing the corner of your mouth, speaking lowly, as his lips moved their way around to your neck. you tilted your head to give him more access, and his breath tickled your skin as he spoke. “i thought you said i got to choose today's events?”

“would you rather do something else then?”

“you haven’t told me your idea yet.”

“i thought you liked solving mysteries.”

the way his mouth moved against your neck, you began to feel butterflies invading your stomach, sinking further down below, and you felt one of his hands slide from your hips to the expanse of your thighs, to the space in between, and you gasped at the sensation. his fingerstips delicately traced over you, nothing separating the two of you except for the thin cotton layer of your underwear, which had procured a small wet patch in the time being.

“something like this?”

you gasped, feeling his teeth scrape gently at your skin, followed by another pink flush rushing to your cheeks, and you felt him smile and chuckle against you, to which you smiled back.

“don’t laugh at me,” you breathed out as his fingers pulled away from you, sliding back up to hold your waist beneath his shirt, and the butterflies in your stomach began to flap their wings more vigorously. your mouth hung open, as his worked magically against your neck, and you couldn’t help but whine slightly as he pulled away, the only contact now being his hands holding you still, which on a regular day, you would never complain about, but you did desperately wish for his fingers back where they were moments ago, deeper, inside you . you shuffled your hips at the idea and a devious smirk swept across his face. “but uh, yeah i think you’ve got the idea now.”

he looked you over for a moment, his eyes holding sweetness like that of the honey in your now forgotten tea, and the softness of a prairie after a long night of rainfall. but there was something else lingering there too.

your hands, which had been holding onto the countertops edge for the time being, traveled their way back up to cupping his face once more, your thumb gently caressing over his bottom lip, plump and sheening with saliva. his breath was hot as he panted between parted lips.

“i love you,” you said before you could even register the words coming out of your mouth, and your face flushed again with subtle embarrassment. it was true of course, you did love him, you loved him like you needed air to breathe. your hand dropped from his face, down his neck, and rested languidly against his chest.

“what was that?” he asked, leaning down again to press sloppy kisses to your face, your neck and around your ear. his voice was low, and you sucked your bottom lip in between your teeth in anticipation. your fingers curled, scratching gently at his chest. “i couldn’t quite hear you from way up there.” and of course there it was, you were giving yourself to fox mulder, allowing yourself to be loved and touched and cherished by him, and he couldn’t help himself from making a joke at the expense of your height. you smiled and you couldn’t stop the laugh that he loved so dearly from tumbling from your lips.

“i said,” you spoke in mock annoyance, shoving him away playfully as his hands roamed up your stomach to gently cup your breasts, and you gasped at the touch, thoughts becoming more jumbled in your brain by the second. you scrunched your face trying to keep the facade of annoyance up, but you were unable to keep the smile from breaking through, and you swallowed thickly as his thumbs massaged in circles. “i said, i love you, you giant idiot.” and he smiled a toothy grin at you.

“i love you more.”

you couldn’t quite describe the emotions you were feeling, there was a culmination of so many at once. happiness, love, lust, contentment, desire, the whole lot. it amazed you how one person could conjure up such sentiments within you, and you could only hope you did the same for him.

he pulled his hands down to hold your waist again as he leaned down to capture your lips with his own, a kiss of fervor. you tasted the lingering effects of your toothpaste mixed with the earthy flavors of the tea you had made earlier still somehow soaked into the cracks of your lips. he pulled your bottom lip with his teeth softly, and you moaned into the kiss with surprise, a sound he swallowed up with nary a complaint. but then he pulled away, and you leaned forward, body and mind still begging for more, and he chuckled breathily.

“quite needy, huh?” he spoke softly, and your eyes fluttered open at the sound. you watched the way he looked at you, and it only fueled the flames of desire within you more.

“quite a tease, huh? ” you mocked, leaning forward to capture his lips once more, whatever passion that the last kiss held, this one was tenfold. it was sloppy, wet, incited by the intensity of your coupled desire. your lips parted and he took the chance for his tongue to slip inside, and your fingers grasped and tugged at his hair, earning a groan from him, and you melted into the sound and sensation.

you arched your back, head thrown back as his hands roamed under your shirt and gently traced up your spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake, and with this new angle his mouth kissed, licked, and nipped at your throat and your hold on his hair got impossibly tighter, and he groaned once more, feeling the vibrations rattle against your throat. you loosened your grasp suddenly and clumsily, uttering hushed apologies as you did so, fearing you might’ve hurt him by pulling too hard. you felt fox smile against your neck, and he pulled away, lips parted as he looked at you. your breathing was fast and your cheeks burned. your neck was red and glistening from his lips, teeth, and tongue, and you looked absolutely stunning in his eyes.

you sat there, deep breaths and adrenaline coursing through your body, and arousal pulsing at your core, as you waited for him to say something, anything. his tongue slid across his teeth into a smile.

“don’t be sorry,” his hands, which had found their way back to your waist, gave a gentle reassuring squeeze, and he leaned in close to your ear again. “i like it.” and you felt your heart flutter.

“i don’t want to hurt you,” you crooned, and his smile remained. he kissed you gently and you fought your bodies urge to lurch forward and devour him whole. your insides fluttered with lust and your core dripped with desire. there was an empty ache within you and while yes, you enjoyed this moment of intimacy, your arousal was like waves, pushing at the floodgates within your brain, and you were willing to let it take control.

“you weren’t.” fox said, pulling his lips away from you slowly, eyes watching you almost as if he could sense your internal struggle, and you simply tried to catch your breath in return.

his hands slithered down away from you, pushing your legs apart wider as he began to kneel before you, eyes watching your reactions the entire time as he cupped his hands and arms around you, pulling you towards the edge of the counter, ever closer to him, and during this process your heels naturally found a resting spot against his back. your skin burned where his hands held you, and all your brain could think about was how his long slender fingers would feel curling inside of you, and his plump lips and tongue tasting you. it was intoxicating.

“we’re doing this here?” you asked, and still he looked up at you, an eyebrow quirked. you felt like a divine being sitting here before him like this, even though he was not on his knees for prayer. fox mulder was not a religious man, but you held the power to make him one, for you were like a goddess to him, and he was going to treat you as such, even if it meant he would have to use his mouth for something so sinful, but for you, he would do anything. his eyes, a deep, dilated color like the moss covered forest floor stared up at you and you felt sacred, even with his gaze mirroring that of the hungry fox lurking within, but you, you were the forbidden fruit, and he was dying to have a taste.

“here.” you decided firmly before he could answer. it was your world, and nothing else mattered. you created the space before you now, and fox was nothing if not your devout follower.

your hands gripped the countertop tightly, knuckles turning white in anticipation, desire tingling in your abdomen and pooling in your underwear. his eyes looked up at you, hands going to push his shirt up your stomach so he could get a better view, and you shivered as the movement tickled your belly. a small tuft of pubic hair peeked out of the top of the lace trim of your undergarments, and your face grew hot as your eyes watched his every move.

fox shot you a quick look, a soft “can i?” surpassing his lips, hanging in the air as you nodded in approval, too busy staring at his face and analyzing his long eyelashes. your eyes traveled down his large nose, sweeping over his pores, and finally resting upon his parted lips, watching as they moved and his voice pulled you from your thoughts and brought you back to the moment.

“use your words,” was what he said, still holding you, but not moving an inch closer until you permit him to. you had control over the situation and your body trembled before him, your tongue darting out to lick your lips before you spoke.

“please.”

and that was all he needed as he leaned forward, pressing gentle kisses to you through your underwear. you gasped at the contact, hips shifting, pelvis tilting, but he held you in place, eyes closed as his mouth pressed more fervent kisses to you, and god, you never wanted to remove an article of clothing more in your life. as if he could read your thoughts, a sudden sound between a gasp and a cry escaped your lips as he pulled the wet fabric to the side, and his mouth pressed directly against you in a gentle teasing kiss. you throbbed before him, and it was almost torturous when you felt the slick cotton fabric covering you back up again, his fingers tracing over you through the fabric once more, oddly reassuring you that he was going to take care of you.

you groaned out of frustration, now exceedingly desperate for his touch, and he cocked his head at you, a faux innocent smile plastered on his face, looking like a dog sitting on the floor in front of you, paws on your thighs, tail wagging excitedly as he begged for scraps. you wouldn’t have been surprised if you’d seen him drooling before you.

“what?” he asked, unable to hide the teasing glint in his eyes as he stared up at you and you quivered before him.

“are you trying to get me to beg?” you asked, chest rising and falling with your heavy breaths.

“well… you know i wouldn’t be opposed to that.”

“i already said please.”

“so say it again then.”

his hands gave you a gentle squeeze causing you to squirm before him, your cheeks getting hotter and the ache within you deepening.

“christ,” you whined, rolling your eyes back in frustration. you knew what you wanted, he knew what you wanted. all you had to do was ask for it.

he loved it when you begged, and while yes, it might inflate his ego a bit, that’s not the reason why he loved it so. it’s because it was nice to have vocal confirmation that you wanted him so desperately as he did you. deep down he was a bit insecure that you didn’t love or desire him nearly as much as he loved and desired you, and while he knew this wasn’t true, there was always this little voice in the back of his head saying “what if?” and hearing your voice pleading for his touch drowned it out and shoved it away.

fox peppered kisses up your thighs, getting close but staying ever far away from where you desired him most. your hands found his hair yet again, intertwining in the soft brunet locks atop his head, and you sucked in a breath as he licked a stripe at the crevice where your leg and hip joined, breaths tickling your skin as the sweet scent of your arousal filled his nose.

“fox, please , if you don’t hurry up i’m going to-“

“what?” he asked, cutting you off while his eyes looked up at you and the cunning smile of a fox etched itself onto his face. you couldn’t quite help but think he had chosen his name appropriately. fox, fox, fox, the word played in your head like a melody, darting around your thoughts like an animal chasing its prey. “you’ll do what exactly?” his words sliced through you while you sat atop the counter like a divine meal, waiting to be ripped and torn to shreds by gnashing teeth, juice dripping and soaking into the earth beneath.

“christ, i don’t- i don’t know, okay? just-“ your words fumbled out of your mouth faster than you could think, frustration and arousal bubbling fast within your body like a pot boiling over on the stove.

“please, please , just touch me already. pretty please?”

“pretty please, huh?” he chuckled to himself as his hands slid to your lower back and over the curvature of your ass, thumbs hooking themselves in the waistband of your underwear. he looked up at you, eyes silently asking for your assistance and you obliged, lifting your hips, allowing him to pull the sodden underwear down off from you, and you kicked them off to the side, legs resting over his shoulders once more. your eyes locked with his as you stared each other down, wondering who would break first. your hand outreached coming up to cup his cheek and jaw again, your thumb tracing over his bottom lip out of habit, and your breath hitched as he pulled it into his mouth, tongue darting over your fingertip devilishly.

he was the first to break eye contact, eyes lurking down your body, finding their way to your dripping core, glistening in the dim lighting, and you were brought back to reality a little bit, realizing that here, now, fox mulder was about to go down on you, in your kitchen. thank god.

you squirmed under his gaze, both out of desire and longing to be touched, tasted, devoured, and picking up on this, he shot a glance up towards you once more, before leaning down and kissing your inner thighs, lips leaving ghostly kiss marks everywhere they touched, and your skin burned with want as his mouth got closer and closer.

fox decided that he had teased you sufficiently. you were a whining princess sat atop a tower, waiting to be rescued, satiated, and he was your knight in shining armor. that and of course, you had asked so nicely. pretty please. how cute and desperate you were, you really were like a princess, his princess, and while fox was never one to be controlling over you, he loved and relished in this possessiveness he was feeling. no one else got to see you like this, but him. no one else made you feel like this but him.

with that thought, he pressed a warm kiss to your wetness, and your body jolted at this, feeling electricity course through you as his tongue licked a tantalizing stripe up your center. one of your hands clenched at his hair, fearing your grasp was the only thing holding you down on earth, the other pushed against the countertop, holding you up as your fingers writhed.

your heart beat for him, quite literally as he felt it pulsing within you. his tongue was soft and his jaw relaxed as he tantalizingly licked from your entrance up to your clit, and a moan escaped from your throat and past your lips, sounding like an angel. your eyes squeezed shut and your head threw back again as his fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs like a soft ripened peach, and his tongue swirled around you.

“jesus, thank you,” thank you, thank you, thank you, you moaned out, not caring if you were being too loud for your thin apartment walls. that wasn’t an issue for now, you would deal with it later. all that existed to you was this moment and the man before you, as he clouded your mind and drank you up, your soul pouring right through you and into him, for him to hold, to love, to cherish. and cherish you he did.

it was like a stage, dark and empty minus the large spotlight shining on you, and only you. the audience was empty, spare for fox, watching you and encouraging your performance as a heavenly choir of moans tumbled from within you, to which his tongue danced in time to.

his mouth worked expertly against you, and your hand tugged at his hair, mewling and moaning, all this behavior just egging him on more.

and then he pulled away, chin slick with a mixture of his saliva and your arousal, and you whined at the loss of contact, eyes flashing open and looking downwards at him, confusion scribbled all over your face. you had thought the teasing was over.

“christ,” he chuckled at your expression, licking the taste of you off from his lips. “are you that desperate or am i just that good?”

“why’d you stop?” you whined, ignoring his gloating and teasing. usually you might feel embarrassed, but right now all you could focus on was the missing sensation of his mouth, and the panging emptiness within you, and his expression softened at seeing your pained one.

“relax princess,” he pressed a kiss to your inner thigh and you whimpered. “i wanted to know if you could hold yourself up okay? i want to use my fingers.” your insides pulsed and your gut clenched at the mention, and how he said it so casually. wordlessly, and quickly, you rearranged yourself into a better position to hold yourself up, his hands slithering down around you, and up your inner thighs.

“good girl,” he praised succinctly, patting your inner thigh gently as he did, the heat on your cheeks burning deeper at his words. his long slender fingers then traveled up towards you and his when they reached their destination, he began moving them in circular motions over and near your clit as you sucked a breath in between your teeth. they moved slow at first, and then gradually began to pick up some speed, stroking up and down, before his fingers fully moved down, parting your folds before slipping inside, slowly starting with just one, pushing inside and then pulling it out, repeating this process teasingly, knowing just how to get you going.

“you’re so beautiful, so needy for me, huh?” he teased, and you wriggled in response, unable to create a coherent sentence, so you opted to let a singular word flow from your lips.

“more.”

he hummed, and then suddenly it was two fingers, and a string of lewd noises and blasphemous curses came from you in response. you were drunk on him, on everything about him, his words, his actions, his smell, his taste, and oh how that thought made you desperately want his mouth and his tongue back on you, tasting you.

his fingers slipped out of you again, slick and shiny, and you looked at him with your mouth dropped open from pleasure, and a protest almost escaped from you before you witnessed him licking his fingers, like he could read your mind, and for a second you wondered if he actually could. your arousal coated his tongue, before he slipped both his fingers slowly back inside, gingerly picking up speed. your eyes closed, relishing in the sensations he was providing you and you were unable to control the soft moans that vibrated from the back of your throat.

“you sound so pretty,” his voice was soft as he spoke. “so pretty just for me, hmm?” he was taking expert care of you, as if that was his divine purpose. he felt that it was, for you were kind enough to let him see you like this, and it was so so much better than anything his mind had ever fantasized about.

he pressed a few more wet kisses to your thighs, and then just as suddenly his mouth wanted to resume it’s place, and so a bit of spit dribbled from his lips down onto you, adding a bit more wetness to the situation, before his tongue resumed its place, supping at you with unequivocal thirst. his fingers were coated in your wetness and he began curling them up and attacking one spot in particular, earning a whine and a sharp intake of breath from you.

his mouth and lips found their way back up towards your clit, pulling it into his mouth and then letting it go just as suddenly. but then it was back again, and he gently sucked on it, lips soft and warm as he darted his tongue over and around you, and you couldn’t help the surprised and wanton noises you created in return.

your eyes fluttered open to see that his were closed, and you looked down at him, watching his every move, pulsing as you sucked in a breath. the roles were now a bit reversed, you were still the receiver, but he was now the performer, dazzling you with his magical talents. his fingers moved miraculously inside of you causing your thoughts to fade away, like some silly card trick. his sleight of hand was wonderful, his fingers and his mouth knowing exactly how to please you.

“sh-, i’m-,” you panted out, hips grinding against him. his other hand slid back up to hold you and offer more stability, and your walls clenched around his fingers in a way that made him hum against you, sending vibrations throughout.

his mouth pulled away again, jaw beginning to ache from the way he was hungrily feasting upon you, but his fingers remained and he watched you pant and shudder before him, your eyes now closed once more, too focused on the sensations he was providing you.

“yeah?” he asked, encouraging you to use your words. he loved when you were vocal about what he was doing to you, telling him how good you felt or even when all your brain could do was conjure up unintelligible noises. and he loved watching you like this. your parted lips, heavy breaths, eyes scrunched close as you bathed in the way he was making you feel.

“fuck, keep going,” you whined, pleading almost, as your arms and muscles strained, holding up your weight as your hips undulated against his hand. you would be afraid of toppling from your position on the counter, if the only thought you were able to think about wasn’t fox and his hands and his mouth and the sensations he was providing you. just him, him, him, nothing else mattered at the moment, your brain too clouded by pleasure and your impending orgasm that was bubbling beneath the surface. all because of him.

“oh i wouldn’t dream of stopping…. again,” he smirked, able to tell you were close. if you weren’t so enraptured by the moment, you would’ve laughed at him, but you were hyper focused on how good you felt. how good he was making you feel. he swapped his fingers for his mouth, but not before telling you to watch. he wanted to drink you up as you came on his tongue, which he was now fucking you with, and he wanted you to watch him do it. you moaned loudly, sweat pouring from your brow, eyes fluttering open as you watched him between bated breaths.

he hummed against you, and you fought the urge to throw your head back, pleasure washing over you, vibrations coursing through your body as you were ready to come undone.

and that you did, your body tensing and your grip becoming more harsh, grabbing at his hair and holding him in place as you rode out your high. your head threw back, mouth agape, thighs squeezing together around him tightly like a vicd, and a rush shot through your body like a bolt of lightning and you pulsed, walls contracting. his mouth kept working against you, coaxing and guiding you through your orgasm until your body and muscles began to relax and you released a breath you didn’t know you were holding, along with releasing him from both your hands and thighs grip, cheeks reddening in embarrassment as your brain began to slowly process everything.

you used your hand that was holding him in place to now gently push him away from you, feeling overly sensitive, and as he pulled away, his chin was still slick and jaw still aching as he regained his own breath, breaths that slipped past his pink and puffy lips. he stood, leaning forward to enrapture your lips in a kiss, the taste of you still lingering all over him.

“sorry.” you squeaked out, after breaking away from the kiss, still reeling from the effects of your orgasm.

he hummed, “for what?” he really didn’t know what you had to be sorry for, for feeling good? he’d wanted you to, he wanted to take care of you and wanted to make you cum. and he had many times in the past, so what was there to be apologetic for now? he figured it was your nerves, or your own embarrassment rushing to the surface, so he rubbed your side reassuringly. there was absolutely nothing you needed to apologize for, and he really couldn’t think of what it would be.

“suffocating you?” you questioned, as if it was supposed to be something so obvious. and he laughed, a big laugh, like really? that was it? he wasn’t laughing at you, so much so as the apparent absurdity of your statement. as if being suffocated between your thighs wasn’t something he’d enjoy.

after recovering from his laughing fit, he cupped your cheek, smiling softly when he saw your confused expression and the way you couldn’t help yourself from leaning into his touch.

“baby,” he kissed you once more, lips lingering against yours for a second before pulling away to look into your eyes. he opened his mouth to say something else, more reassurances, but you cut him off with another kiss.

“‘s my turn to make you feel good now?” you questioned, drunkenly in love with the man before you. your hand traced down his chest, past his belly button and down his happy trail, fingertips dipping below his waistband, but he grabbed your wrist stopping you from going any further.

you looked up at him, once again confused. did he not want you to touch him?

“not here love,” and then you smiled as he helped you down from the counter top, rescuing the princess from her tower and holding your wrist again to lead you towards the bedroom, leaving your underwear behind, forgotten about for now, along with the two cups of tea you had prepared earlier that had now gone cold.

[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 🙏😭😭

[hippiegoth97]

Another productive day in the world of fanfic writing. 2000 words on the next parts of I Want to Believe when I've barely been able to get a sentence out for it for months! Look at me go 🥰💜

[ratpacman]

I declare Fox Mulder my spookie.

[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.

[unremarkablehouse]

The Mulder Manual Ch 5

Explicit | NSFW | WC 2269 | AO3 | Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4

Summary: Smut, Mulder silliness, some more smut and a huge doses of MSR fluff to finish this story off.

Excerpt:

Scully thought that maybe Mulder had been playing hard to get when he didn’t make a pass at her tonight, but on hearing the sounds of basketball and Mulder’s eyes transfixed to the TV, she knew she had lost out to the Knicks. 

Propped up in bed with the sheet half covering his bare chest, clutching the remote with his right hand Mulder let out a cry of frustration over a missed shot. Casually Scully hopped into his bed and cuddled up to him, greeted by Mulder’s hand through her hair in lieu of a proper acknowledgment.

“Good game?” Scully asked, her hand absentmindedly playing with his chest hair as she watched the basketball players dance across the TV screen.

“No, the Knicks are losing and just blew that penalty shot,” Mulder replied, eyes still on the screen.

Read on AO3

Tagging: @today-in-fic

Notes: Final chapter and this one is my favorite! Thank you to the WIP taggers and my you guys that commented or posted, it really encouraged me to actually post my work and not be shy about it. Also, thank you to whomever wrote the original Prompt 21 in @xfpornbattle

[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. 

[postmodernbeliever]

how to relax - fox mulder x female reader (smut)

a seemingly endless case in the middle of nowhere has you stressed out of your mind, to the point where the only thing that doesn't push you too far is fox mulder. with all that stress and no way to reel yourself in, your partner decides he wants to help show you how to relax.

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wrote this bc sometimes we (i) just need a (toe curling) self-insert to satisfy our (my) daydreams. i dedicate this to all those who are chubby and in love with fox mulder. if you prefer to read on ao3, you can find me at the same username.

my ao3 | word count; 5,419 (i got excited, okay?)

content tags (i copied from ao3 bc im lazy): dom fox mulder, praise kink, fluff and smut, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, hand & finger kink, subspace, size difference, belly bulge, co-workers, mutual pining, idiots in love, pet names, stress relief, cross-posted on ao3, smut, subtle plus size reader, soft fox mulder, mentions of freudian shit bc come on this is the x files, talking you through it, fox is literally so awoooooga the whole time, fox gets cocky as always, fox mulder the munch, bathroom sex, fox just can’t help himself literally so i hope you enjoy

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you’d been beyond stressed all day, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary for you. what was frustrating was that you had managed to grow so agitated that it seemed nothing could help you calm down. 

your work with the fbi was your life, in all its stress-inducing, time-consuming, hair-splitting glory. you were as tight-assed as they came (ask literally anybody!) all of that pressure on top of a naturally anxious and irritable demeanor made you difficult to enjoy being around, and you knew it. but today, of all days, it was truly catching up to you physically. the muscles of your jaw were sore from the tension they held, fighting between your teeth for release. your head swelled between your eyes and nose, pulsing softly like a glowing light that wouldn’t dim. your throat was dry, your footsteps heavy, your hands restless; you were wound so tight that everyone you encountered feared you might snap like a rubber band, lashing against them in recoil. 

fox mulder was the only one who had stayed on your good side all day, which is surprising, given your partner was typically the casual aggressor of your everyday life- what with his constant nagging and ridiculous speculations about every crime you investigated. he never once changed his attitude, let alone change the color shirt he wore to work every day. yet it seemed this time he was off the hook, because the case you’d both been assigned was dragging like no other. 

it was your fifth day in the desolate yellow countryside of a rural town you so lovingly renamed as bumblefuck, virginia; all you possessed was an immaterial, mulder-esque lead that couldn’t be pinned down (as your fellow agent was torn between shapeshifter and werewolf). on top of that were ten dead bodies, no evidence, and a motel room with broken air conditioning, complete with a leaky sink. you were sick to death of the heat, and the town, and the local policemen who seemed to have but two executive functions: hit on you or ignore your assertions. for a stagnant fifth day, you’d experienced more frustration than ever- the cops have begun to give up on catching a suspect, fox was investigating muddy footprints all afternoon like the freak he is, and you were stuck to sit in the closet-sized archives room at the local library where teenagers and nagging townspeople came in to ogle the “fbi lady”… jesus, no wonder your head hurts. 

fox came by every so often to check on you that afternoon. once with a cup of coffee, once with half of a sandwich he’d thoughtfully taken a bite out of to piss you off, and again with dirt all over his face and a wild story about how he caught a glimpse of his x file mid-attack. if you weren’t used to his personality by now it might’ve made things worse, but in a way his teasing and subtle acts of service were the only soothing memories you had to reflect on. he was a moment of consistency between the endless chaotic installments of the afternoon. 

at the end of the day, you were mentally exhausted, hungry for the other half of that sandwich fox ate, and in need of the shitty motel bed; at the very least some peace and quiet, just for one night. but it seemed your partner wouldn’t let you have it. 

you’d had about an hour to yourself before fox materialized in your motel room. after a shower that quickly ran cold, you slipped into a sweatshirt, a threadbare set of sleep shorts that were a bit tight for your pudgy legs, and two flimsy socks that didn’t match because you hadn’t packed for a trip this long. you’d tried watching the television, but the antennae were spotty no matter how you arranged them. the air conditioning machine clanked and whistled nonstop, and hiding under your pillows didn’t dull the racket. the best part was when you tried to light the little bedside yankee candle and the lighter ran out of fluid- but not before it sparked and burned your thumb. you’d finally begun to decompress when a familiar knock sounded from outside. summoning a forcibly loud groan- so your tall visitor heard exactly how you felt- you clambered off the creaking bed and towards the door, which revealed his trademark smug smile. 

“good evening, watson!”

“what do you want?” you sighed, closing your eyes. 

you felt his hand push your shoulder to the side, and the man squeezed past you into the room. you scoffed and said, “oh, please, make yourself at home!” 

“i will, thank you,” fox teased. “i came to check on you.”

“because?”

“well, you’ve been a wreck all day! didn’t laugh at one of my jokes. you nearly bit the sheriff's head off tonight when we checked in at the station before leaving… i just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“oh? well, you know what? no, mulder, i’m not okay. we’ve been stranded out in the middle of nowhere for a week with no leads and no progress and the food here sucks and i haven’t had a single good night’s sleep and all my socks are dirty!” you ranted, pacing in front of the half-open door like a lunatic. 

fox grinned as if he knew something you didn’t and turned from you, heading towards the tiny bathroom tucked in the corner of the room. you slammed the front door shut and followed him, snapping, “what, you come in asking how i feel and just walk away? explain to me how that makes any sense, mulder!”

the agent leaned against the bathroom sink, hands laid curiously on the lip of the counter. he dutifully watched the little crystal droplets that fell rhythmically down the ceramic bowl. the air surrounding him felt charged, like if you stepped too close, you’d get shocked; almost as if his thoughts were electrifying the oxygen. 

he frustrated you beyond belief sometimes. the man stood in your bathroom like his day was going perfectly fine. a gray t-shirt clung to his lean arms, hugging the curves of his biceps like it was tailored for him alone; his sweatpants were black and littered with lint from the hairy couch in his apartment, and they hung low on his hips, peeping the waistband of his black boxers like a well-known secret. his hair was pointing every which way in its tawny misdirection, and he had the nerve to inspect your sink, and lick his lips like he had all the time in the world to enjoy the southern sticks and lupine mysteries, all while you had to scour newspapers and sleep in ten minute increments to survive. 

“mulder, what the hell are you doing?” 

“your sink is leaking.” 

“yeah, i know, sherlock.”

“did you ask them to fix it?”

“mulder, i will not hesitate to kick you out.”

“jeez, somebody’s worked up.”

the man pivoted on his feet, facing you with a newfound sense of purpose. you were prepared to object his statement, but were silenced by his hands finding your hips. he was so quick to slide you up onto the counter that you forgot your rebuttal- in fact, in his rush to relocate you, you’d forgotten to think entirely. he had your thighs pinned to the cold, white countertop, and parted so he could press his tummy to the spot where your legs met. his shirt rode up in the moment, and you could feel the warmth of his bare skin against the fabric of your shorts. 

fox’s hands felt rough. you stared at them, at the sheer size, and recollected all the little stolen glances of those fingers sifting through his filing cabinets, or analyzing your field notes, or polishing his gun. countless vivid reminders of the strength of them as they pulled you back from bullets and unexpected staircases flashed before your eyes. how often you longed for them, you couldn’t say, but it was clear to you now as those same hands held you down that you had taken a serious liking to them. 

it took you a while, but you managed to mutter, “what are you doing?”

fox could only smile wider and say, “you need to relax, don’t you?” 

“what does that-”

“why don’t you let me help you?” 

you swallowed thickly, feeling a bubbling heat rise in your belly. his calloused palms rode up your legs, finding room for his thumbs to begin drawing soft, sweeping circles against your hip bones. your brain clouded so fast you forgot to answer. 

“i’ve never seen you so aggravated before… like, by every little thing. i mean, i know you get annoyed, but these past couple days have been so rough for you, haven’t they? just can’t calm down, can you? you look so tired, so tense. i can feel all the tension you’re keeping right… here,” he consoled, letting up on your hips to press a hand to your lower abdomen. when you sucked in a nervous breath, the man pressed a little harder, and you twitched beneath him. “i can fix that for you, if you want. show you how to relax a little.” 

“y-you’re not even supposed to be in here,” you wheezed, “agents… agents aren’t supposed to consort in the same room, mulder, remember?”

“awh, come on, don’t start following the rules on me now! don’t you wanna feel better, honey?” 

fox spoke like every word was a secret, leaning in close to your ear. the scruff of his five o’clock shadow brushed against your fresh face, eliciting a spidery chill down your spine. 

“what’s gotten into you, mulder?”

“i asked you a question, sweetheart.”

you panicked, swallowing air like it was water. these kinds of questions felt new coming from him. anxiously, you let out a shaky breath and nodded, hoping that was enough. you couldn’t handle much else.

“is that a yes?”

“...mhm.”

“can you say yes for me?”

fuck. “yes.”

“good girl. it’ll help, i promise.” 

it seemed he couldn’t be going any slower than he was just then, gingerly removing his hands from your waist and biting his lower lip like the reincarnate of a dream you’d entertained too many times before. you watched with a spinning head as his long, spindly fingers hooked under the waistband of your shorts. his pale eyes twinkled at you, sage steeped in milk, as he asked, “can i?” in that lilting voice he uses only when the room is begging for quiet. when you eagerly nodded, he chuckled, “lift up for me a little, okay?” 

you followed orders and pressed your shaky hands to the tile, raising your hips so he had room to slide your shorts down. his face melted at the sight of you underneath. 

night after night, he’d fantasized about those doe eyes of yours watching him free you up like this, but he never imagined he’d get the chance. until this afternoon, when he resolved to create the chance. through all these years working beside you, he’s only grown to admire you more. you were cunning, you were gentle with kids, you were smarter than he ever could be (even if you disagreed.) but you were also tired. you lived alone, you slept alone, you never asked for help and you declined every offer. fox hated to see you facilitate your own frustration. and this past week has only exacerbated his need to fix it- watching you so angry, so pent up, so in need of attention- he couldn't bear to let you suffer any longer. it seems he’s been lucky, too, because you sat quietly, patiently, all so that he could take care of you. grateful for the opportunity, fox didn’t want to waste any more time. 

with those dreamy fingertips grazing your underwear, fox was the spitting image of boyish charm. he admired the worn black and grey striped fabric covering what was left of you, thinking aloud, “had these for a while, huh?” 

“since i was in college,” you muttered, “everything i wore was dark back then.”

“nothing’s changed. you’re very punk rock,” he winked.

you didn’t know you were capable of laughing in your current state, but it came bubbling up in a nervous overflow. he watched your lips curl, and the way you threw your head back like you couldn’t stop yourself. you felt embarrassed to be so swayed by his stupid humor, but you had no choice. not when he had you wrapped around his finger like this.

“you’re a dork.”

“you like it, though,” he reassured. 

you watched the man hesitate, eyes darting down to your lips; you closed your eyes, hoping it would nudge him in the right direction, and you were right. fox had to crane his neck down a bit- because even with you on the counter, he was still taller- but he made himself level, and he pressed his lips to yours so gently you almost didn’t feel him there. what announced him was the taste of him, actually; stale coffee on his tongue, and what you deduced to be the black-label chapstick, the kind that tasted like medicine. you toppled into him like you were falling off a cliff, clinging to the hem of his shirt in longing. 

fox seemed to like how you hung on him. it made him feel risky. his hands meandered across your tummy, pushing up under your sweatshirt and roaming the soft skin of your back. he caught your bottom lip between his teeth and tugged softly, and when you opened your eyes in surprise, he nudged your nose like a kitten and let it go. he was good at taking control like this, at making your nerves ebb and flow to his pace. you were so entranced in the way his lips meshed with yours that when his dominant hand found its way to your hips again, you mewled in anticipation. 

“you sound a lot prettier when you’re not arguing with me,” fox joked. you met him with a soft sound from the back of your throat, and his eyebrows furrowed in amusement. “can barely speak, can you?”

“mm-mm,” you answered, trying to trap his lips again, but he pulled away. 

his eyes shifted shade, and you were now seeing yourself reflected in much darker irises. your back shivered against the mirror on the wall. he broke eye contact and let it linger on your legs, his palms swiping over the skin with intention. swiftly, he bent over and began pressing kisses to your inner thighs. you let out a strangled whine, which made him shudder.

“you want me to get to it, hm?”

“please, f… mulder,” you whispered, blushing like a fool. 

the man rose again to lock you in a soft kiss, one so much more loving than the others that it let butterflies loose in your chest. interrupting their fluttering, he prodded, “what was that?”

it was out of you before you had a chance to weigh the outcomes. “please, fox.” 

having teased long enough, fox dropped to his knees and pushed your panties aside. his mouth was so slick from all the time it spent on yours that it was dangerously warm as it pressed against your heat. you let out a lewd string of moans as his tongue trailed a long, torturous stripe between your folds, taking his sweet time getting to the top. he felt you throbbing, all the blood in your body pulsing like a heartbeat for him. his lips, just a bit swollen, peppered a few gentle kisses to the skin before surrounding your bud and starting to suck. 

you squeezed your eyes shut so hard it nearly brought your headache back. fox grunted between your hips, the pads of his fingers pressing hard into your bones. you softened for his tongue as it swirled inside your pussy, tracing shapes to drive you insane. your hands burrowed into his cropped cut and tugged in desperation, which he liked so much it practically made him growl; the sound bounced between your walls, sending a sensation into your stomach that made your legs tremble. he felt so good inside you like this, lapping like a puppy at your water; you bucked against his big nose, craving the friction, and he responded with relentless thirst for you.  

“fuck!” you whined, “fox- agh,”

coming up for a gulp of air, you caught a glimpse of his slick chin as it glinted in the yellow light. “feels good?” 

“shit,” you panted, “yes, obviously… more,” 

“more, huh?” fox licked his lips with hungry eyes. “i’m gonna need you to say please, baby.”

“jesus, fox, please! pretty please, baby, please just keep going,” 

“fuck, don’t call me names…” the man swooned at the broken cry in your voice, resolving to give you whatever you needed until the day you die. now wasn’t the time for confession, though, so he filed that away for later. “pretty please. god, you’re good.”

you nearly choked as he pushed two fingers into you, curling them in a rough come-hither motion. he bombarded you with himself, sucking hard on your clit and fucking his fingers into the swelling spot inside you, making you lurch against his touch like an animal. with your head thrown back against the motel mirror and pretty mouth gasping for him, he realized that his dreams could never do this moment justice. the sugary, tangy taste you left on his tongue, your soft skin that smelled like shower suffocating him, the way his name rolled off your tongue- you were the real fucking deal, not some half-assed daydream that got him off at night. you were beautiful, and for not being a praying man, being on his knees before you felt right. who was he to stand eye to eye with you, when down here where you were perched above him like an angel, he had so much more room to worship you? 

“fuck, i- oh, i’m…” you whimpered, grinding against his face with fervor. 

“let it go, honey, come on,” he cooed, “i’ll take care of you.” 

“b-but i- i’ve never- oh my god!”

the agent watched you battle with yourself, all the while writhing on the countertop, so he carefully brought his thumb to your clit and picked up the pace. he rose to you again, using his free arm to slither around the base of your back and pull your body flush against his. you bunched his shirt in your fists helplessly and hid your face in his shoulder. it took all his strength not to collapse right then and there, but he kept moving for you, and you rocked against his palm like you were made for it. when he realized you were going to need a little more help, he gave it to you. 

you were stressed, after all, and sometimes somebody’s just got to talk you through it, right?

“never had it this good before, hm? nobody’s ever made you cum, sweetheart? you poor thing,” fox twitted, clicking his tongue. “you work so hard. my smart girl, so good at her job, so independent… you deserve to be taken care of, to feel good, baby. to let go of all that stress,” 

you struggled to think straight as his gruff voice battled the ringing in your ears. his palm pressed against your back with so much care, like if he moved it you’d shatter into a million pieces. it was all so much, to have your partner with you like this; to hear him breathing beside you, to feel his fingers in a place you’d never thought they’d be. he saw the gears turning in your head still, and he wanted to shut your brain off for good. and god, did he. fox coaxed it right out of you like it was his job. 

“come on, good girl, you can do it,” he whispered. “cum for me, honey, i know you can. show me you can.”

for every moment of danger you found yourself stuck in, fox was there to protect you. when you got reprimanded by a director, he was there to hold your hand behind the safety of the desk. when you were late and needed a cover, he was prepared with a detailed story. you’d forgotten a raincoat a comical number of times, so many in fact that he began keeping a spare in his office for you to borrow. fox was always there, waiting to help you, to guide you, and if it was fucked up (so far as to call it freudian) then so be it- you needed it from him. you needed his safety, his warmth, the strength of his arms around you. his reassurance. 

and to hear him care for you like this, too, to pull on your strings and unravel you like a tired tapestry… god, nothing ever felt so good. 

fox’s eyes rolled back as you twitched on his fingers, moaning his name like a prayer into the stuffy bathroom air. your hands struggled to find a place to stay as they combed through his hair frantically, tugging and trembling; it was like you’d never been touched before in your life. you had, but very few times, and it was just like he said- nobody had done it right. but he had. it felt like his hands were crafted to please you. they knew exactly where to touch, how fast, how gentle, how deep. the man figured you out instantly, which was as exciting as it was terrifying. you’ve never felt so out of it in your entire life. 

you panted wildly, and fox gave soft kisses to your hair while you tried to regain your composure. but you couldn’t. you couldn’t get a grasp on anything. the world was floating in limbo around you, all inconstant; the countertop felt as foreign to you as flying did. but even in your daze, you craved more- the second he stopped, you needed him to start again. you could barely speak, but he heard your mumblings: “m…more, more, f… foxie,”

that nickname gave him goosebumps. slowly, he said, “baby, i don’t have anything with me for that,”

“don’t care. please.” you begged. there was no way he could say no to you, not when your pretty, cloudy eyes looked up at him how they did. 

“okay, baby, okay.” 

fox gave no warning, but nothing would have prepared you anyway- you instinctively opened your hips wider just to make enough room for him. he pushed all the way in, letting himself bottom out; the man let out a moan so guttural that you clenched around him in reflex. you were lucky enough to see him make that pretty ‘o’ face, and that might’ve been enough for you, honestly, but it wasn’t for him. he needed you, and he needed you fast. 

his thrusts were no match for all the grinding you could do. he snapped back and forth like a whip, hips rolling so hard that it felt like he was digging inside you deeper each time. you dragged your nails down his back, trying to find something to hold onto, but his moans in your ear as he hid his face in your neck were so distracting you kept having to start over. 

“jesus, baby, you’re so tight for me,” he grumbled, “feels so good, you’re doing so good… fuck, my good girl.”

his praise made every nerve in your body short-circuit. it didn’t matter how he moved, you couldn’t stop babbling. he tugged your hips forward a little more, making you slump against the mirror, and you clutched the countertop for dear life. 

“can’t use your words, huh, baby? look at you, smartest analyst in the fbi and you can barely speak, all because of me,” he tormented. the man pressed his right hand against your tummy again, just like he had before, and he growled with lust. he seized your hand and pressed it flat beneath his in the same spot, and he fucked you harder, forcing it down until you felt his thrusting beneath your palm. you never thought you’d feel anything like this, not with your soft stomach, but he was making it possible.

“you feel that, pretty? feel me inside you, filling you up? you’re mine now. all mine.”

you had no control. you whined, “foxie,” jerking your hips against his cock in a craze. 

“god, that’s right, that’s my girl.” he smiled.

“s-so… a-agh, please!”

“mm, i know, baby, keep going,” 

you had no more words left, you’d used them all. fox had figured out how to take away all your stress, yet in the process, he took your whole mind with it. now you were just his, a thing to be kissed, a fleshy body for him to praise. for a control freak, you loved being the one under another’s control for once. 

you scratched at fox’s shoulders, a mindless drop of drool dribbling from the corner of your mouth. you felt his cock as it swelled against your slick walls, and how it poked against your insides, and if that weren’t enough, he moved his hand to your clit again and resumed rubbing those blissful circles into it. you could only sit there and grind against his touch, muttering strings of curses and unintelligible sounds.

“agh, baby, you’re so pretty like this,” his moans were growing harsh, turning into whines. “all fucked out, mm, so pretty for me,”

his hips started snapping erratically, and your back arched against the increasing speed. his teeth met your shoulder and he bit softly, grumbling, “i’m so close,”

in what felt like a cry but came out as a strangled whimper, you warned, “m’gonna… agh…” 

fox watched your face screw up in pleasure, and it pushed him right over the edge. your body collapsed as you let go, and he rushed to hold you to him and keep you upright. all the way in your gut, where your hand once rested, you felt him pooling all over, thick and warm. his thumb swirled you slowly, working you through it so you didn’t get too shocked. he was stationary for a while, unable to move from the overstimulation; but when he did, he watched the stuff bubble out of you, though only just a bit. his throat closing up at the sight. he gathered some of it on his fingers and raised them to your lips, and you licked them sweetly. his stomach churned as you gazed down at his hand with foggy eyes, somehow still lustful after all he’d done to tire you out. 

“good job, baby, you were so good for me,” he crooned, leaving sloppy, tired kisses all over your neck. “someone’s gotta take care of you, don’t they?” 

you just murmured little hums, and he loved every second of it. 

“you hear me, pretty girl? nobody takes better care of you than me, you got it? who takes good care of you?” 

“foxie,” you admitted in your mindless bliss. 

“that’s right, baby, foxie does. you’re all mine, honey,” he gushed. “not so stressed anymore, are you?”

“mm-mm.”

“are you okay? take a deep breath for me.”

you tried to speak, but the words weren’t forming. you couldn’t string anything together. all you could do was make quiet noises and mutter his name. “mmph… foxie,”

“here, come here, honey.” 

fox tucked his hands beneath your thighs, and after instructing you to wrap your arms around his neck nice and tight, he carried you from the croaking bathroom sink to the motel bed, where he took extra care in laying you down comfortably. he climbed on top of you and adjusted your shirt, smoothing the fabric over your plush tummy and drawing a dopey smile from you. 

“stuck in your head, hm?” fox asked. 

he’d read up on this type of thing before- subspaces. typically common in BDSM practices, but not exclusively. there was a study conducted that detailed the experience theoretically as a headspace induced by rushes of endorphins, causing the receiver to fall into a trance-like state. he remembered reading how when someone is in a subspace their ability to communicate can be impaired and so can their judgment. it was also suggested that asking grounding questions may help coax people out of them (don’t ask how he found such a study.) so being the guy he is, he took everything very slowly from there, and followed the science. 

“can you hear me, sweetheart?” 

“mm.”

“good. what’s my name?” 

your stomach fluttered at the question, and warmth pooled between your hips at the softness with which he asked, but your brain was two steps behind. it took you a minute to answer, and you could only do it with your eyes closed. “foxie,” you muttered. 

“good girl, good job. that’s right,” he rewarded you with a kiss to the collarbone. beneath his breath he muttered, “fuck, if that isn’t cute.”

he could see you were somewhere else. all of your behavior was so needy. you might’ve thought you were a headcase before, but he’s no stranger to id impulses either; he saw how you pushed into his palms, how you refused to let go of his shirt, and he just wanted to help you through it. he wanted to make sure you felt safe. 

“baby, can you open your eyes for me? can you let me see your pretty eyes?” 

you peeked through one and saw his handsome face staring back at you, that toothy grin blooming flowers in your chest. slowly you opened the other, and even though the world was swirling, you managed to keep them open.

“you’re doing so good, thank you, baby,” he chuckled. “now, i’m gonna put your shorts back on, okay?”

“m’kay.” 

you took a deep breath. he watched your chest rise and fall, and your cheeks burn even redder than he thought possible. your hand held his wrist tightly, tight enough that he prayed your nails would leave little moon-shaped marks behind. you shook your head and tried to wipe away the fuzzy feeling. 

“what’s my name again?” he asked, noticing how hard you were trying to focus. he tapped on your hip so you’d know to lift them, and he wriggled your shorts back on, admiring how they hugged the skin.  

“f-fox.”

“good. what’s my job?” 

“you’re… a profiler,” you volleyed, feeling a little more grounded with each passing second. 

“good girl. and where are we, honey?”

you squinted at him and smiled, “bumblefuck, virginia.” 

when fox laughed, it felt like all the angels rung their bells. something about seeing his face light up and whatever was plaguing him, whatever he was in danger of, just wash away in the moment was nothing short of enlightenment. you wished he’d laugh more, so you could see divine intervention on the regular. 

“coming back to me, hm?” 

“yeah,” you giggled. 

fox leaned down and pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “i’m trying not to let my ego explode right now, you know,” he smirked, “i never thought you wanted me so bad.” 

you blushed, hiding behind your hands. “i… oh, god.”

“no, no, it was cute! really. you… you don’t know how badly i’ve wanted to do that.” he promised. 

“i’ve never felt-” you paused, wondering if it was worth saying. yet, if he could bring you back to earth after fucking you stupid, what secrets could you hide from him? “i’ve never felt like this about anyone before.”

“who, me?” fox laughed.

“mhm. it’s just…  agh. you. it’s only you, fox. embarrassingly so.”

it was his turn to blush then. fox leaned down to catch you in one more kiss, and you felt his hand search the bedsheets for yours so he could tangle your fingers with his own. he didn’t want to break away, so he said it right into your mouth, pausing for air: “god- i have- loved- you for- so long.”

fox couldn’t help but feel proud of himself as he laid down between your legs, resting his head on your warm belly like it was a pillow. you instinctively took to his hair, playing with the chocolatey tufts and wishing he’d never move. he fit so perfectly right there, and now you couldn’t ever let him go. you didn’t want to.

with one last kiss to your hip, fox grinned. “told you i could help.”

[hippiegothrecs]

banner by me :)

banner by @cafekitsune

About Me: call me Hippie (or Goth) / 27 / she/her / fic writer / bi / married / minors and ageless blogs DNI

Main Blog: hippiegoth97

divider by @strangergraphics

My Fandoms/Favorite Characters

Stranger Things: Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley, Chrissy Cunningham

The X Files: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully

Criminal Minds: Spencer Reid, Penelope Garcia

Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Spike, Giles, Buffy, Willow, Tara, Faith, Angel, Drusilla

Slumber Party Massacre 2: Driller Killer

Ghostbusters: Egon Spengler

Once Upon a Time: Killian Jones, Regina Mills

Fargo: Gator Tillman

Rec Lists: (Coming Soon!)

Eddie Munson

Steve Harrington

Stranger Things

Fox Mulder

Dana Scully

Spencer Reid

Penelope Garcia

Spike (BTVS)

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Gator Tillman

Tagging some lovely writer Mutuals, please check out their awesome work!: @rafeyscurtainbangs @loserboysandlithium @stalactitekilla @sanctumdemunson @jenniquinn

@userchai @violetpixiedust @littlenymphfables @angel-munson @slowandsteddie

@mediocredreams @xxbimbobunnyxx @thisusernameisunavailable01 @littlexdeaths @ali-r3n

@spookybabey @leelei1980 @hotwritergf @strangererotica @melodymunson

@queenimmadolla @cxrrodedcoffin @keeksandgigz

I'm hoping to see this list grow over time, community is very important!

[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”.

[postmodernbeliever]

ok so i’m writhing on the floor over this

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.

[katy-kt-katie]

For FicTober, I’ve been writing a chaptered story. I’d say it’s 50% slowburn hallmark movie and 50% smut.smut.smut. I used Twitter polls to vote on the initial story concept and some of the story arcs. Check it out. 29 chapters are complete on AO3- Get a chapter 1 and 2 sneak peek below and read the rest: HERE.

The Toy

Mulder and Scully take on a case involving strange deaths during sex.

Chapter 1:

Religious people often talk about critical situations being the work of God or the Devil. I’m not a religious man, but as I sit in this moment, I have these same thoughts. How on earth did I get here? How on Earth am I going to move forward from this?

Mmmmm.

She’s moaning. Scully is moaning now, just feet away from me, as she prepares to orgasm—not just orgasm, but to have the best orgasm of your life, according to the readers of Cosmopolitan Magazine.

Don’t look, just listen, okay…it would be awkward if you saw me…you know.

That’s what she’d said earlier; the ground rules she determined made her feel safe and okay with this experiment. But I still see her—as I lay back and close my eyes, my imagination fills in all the blanks. Scully in her silk robe, lying on her back. The robe has fallen open, and she’s pinching her nipple with one hand while her other hand is between her legs, bringing herself pleasure. She wiggles and flexes, her face blushed, and her eyes closed.

But in reality, I can't see any of that. I’m sitting on her couch in the dark with my back to her as she’s chasing that orgasm in her bed. The door is cracked so that I can hear her. And what’s my role in all of this? I’m monitoring her for safety, ensuring that what befell the others doesn’t happen to her. Mulder, you're the only one I trust... I’ll make some noises so that you know I’m still okay, she had said when we agreed to this…situation. And the noises are driving me wild.

Oh my god, oh my god, she whines in the distance.

So it is God then, I think, and maybe it’s the Devil who is responsible for my hard and hot cock demanding attention in my jeans.

Chapter 2:

ONE WEEK EARLIER

I duck as the pencil I’d thrown at the ceiling plummets back toward my eyeball.

“One of these days, you’re going to maim yourself, Mulder,” a familiar voice says. I snap my gaze to the door to see Scully reporting to work. She brushes some snow from her coat and hangs it on the hook before adjusting her high-heeled shoes and cracking her neck on her way to the desk.

“In that case, I look forward to the very thorough and diligent care of my personal doctor,” I wink at her. Flirting…that’s what I'm doing. It’s what I’ve always done for years with Scully.

Since we’d kissed at New Year’s, our flirty banter feels a little different to me, but I guess not to her—she’d said she enjoyed kissing me, but it couldn’t happen again. The next day, it was as if the kiss had never happened.

“If you came under my care, I’m sure a colonoscopy would be in order,” she teases.

I shake my head and grin as I grab four files and toss them across the desk toward her.

“What do we have?” she asks, immediately transforming into Special Agent mode, flipping through the top case file.

“Four deaths, spread across the Pacific Northwest. All women—various ages—all died of heart attacks unexpectedly without pre-existing conditions.”

“Hmm,” she says as she flips through the file. She is both meticulous and swift when processing information, a true pinnacle of efficiency. “Mulder heart attacks are unfortunately quite common in women.”

I throw another pencil at the ceiling as I wait for her to catch the common link, the countdown playing in my brain… three, two…one —

“Wait,” she demands. “The heart attacks all occurred during the act of sexual intercourse?”

“Yep.”

“Well, that is rather odd. But, still, about one-tenth of one percent of people die during consensual sex,” I notice her cheeks blushing now, her gaze dropping, and her hands fidgeting. Her body shows signs of nervousness as she talks to me about this, but her words are one hundred percent Dana Scully, MD. “Sex can be very strenuous.”

I chuckle, leaning back in my chair and propping my feet on the desk. “Dr. Scully, how many of those one-tenth of one percent of people dying during sex would be women with no pre-existing cardiac conditions?”

“Well,” she stalls. “I agree. It is an anomaly.”

“The computer picked it up,” I say, grabbing the files back from where she’d laid them down.

“Computer?” she asks.

“You know, the new TI-6969 the boys have down in the lab with the profiling algorithm. It looks for connections in seemingly unconnected cases. And it hit on this.”

She rolls her eyes and scoffs. Oh, how I love bantering with this woman.

“So I’m assuming we are heading to the Pacific Northwest, Mulder?”

“Plane leaves at eleven.”

READ ALL 29 CHAPTERS: HERE

Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober2023