#fox mulder smut | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dollmulder · 7 months ago

Text

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.

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postmodernbeliever · 1 year ago

Text

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

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

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my ao3 | word count: 6,071

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i mean, sure,”

“yeah, i think so, too.”

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

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

“...mhm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“really?”

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

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

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

“but i-”

“everyone does things at their own pace,”

“but…”

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

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

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

“have you ever tried?”

“...no.”

“do you want to?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“is that a yes?”

your stomach churned. “yes.”

“good. come on.”

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

“fox, i…”

“what, love?”

“i… i don’t know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you shivered. “you kiss me first.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“now what, sweetheart?”

“y-you… agh,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“mhm,”

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

“no,” you wheezed, “never.”

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

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

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

breathlessly, you said, “lace is itchy.”

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

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

“please what?”

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

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

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

“oh, yeah?”

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

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

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

“good, baby?”

“mm-nngh,” was all you had to say.

“what a pretty girl.”

“fox…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“mmm,”

“tell me you feel pretty,”

“i- i feel pretty.”

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

“fuck,” you squeaked, “fox!”

“i know you do. say it.”

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

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

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

“really?”

“mm-mm. not… not time yet.”

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

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

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

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

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

“no. i’m ready,”

“positive?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“fox, i-”

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

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

“fuck, fox!”

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

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

“s-so… so big…”

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

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

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

“fox, please,”

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

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

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

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

“f-fox… oh- oh god…”

“gonna cum for me, princess?”

“i… i’ve never…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“mm… agh,”

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

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

“foxie,” you whispered.

“hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“worth the wait?”

“definitely. thank you.”

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

“shut up,” you laughed.

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

“i’d like that life, i think.”

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

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

inspired by this ask ;)

#Spotify #fox mulder #x files #spooky mulder #the x files #fox mulder x reader #fox mulder x you #domestic fox mulder #soft fox mulder #fox mulder x reader fluff #fox mulder fluff #fox mulder smut #catholiscism #loss of virginity #virginity kink #plus size reader #embarrasment #god bless the freaks

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yourbestprincess · 4 months ago

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I actually need him, someone give me a prompt to write for him PLEASE

#fox mulder x reader #fox mulder #fox mulder smut #x files

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chellestrash · 1 year ago

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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.

#x files #the x files #x files fanfic #fox mulder #fox mulder x reader #fox mulder fanfiction #david duchovny #fox mulder smut #mulder x reader #mulder x you

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muldermuse · 1 year ago

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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

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hippiegoth97 · 5 months ago

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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 🥰💜

#hippiegoth97 #hippiegothspeaks #fanfiction #fox mulder x female reader #fox mulder #fox mulder smut #the x files #fox mulder fanfiction #fox mulder x reader #smut #1990s #WIP #i want to believe

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dunhamhairograpy · 2 months ago

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Orison, Draft Script: Mulder's first and only prayer was for Scully ❤️

-- "And I remember for the first time in my life, in that moment... I asked God for something. To keep you safe."--

#xfiles #thexfiles #xf bts #gillian anderson #mulder #xfiles the xfiles #all things #the x files #dana scully #fox mulder #orison #season 7 #msr smut #msr #msredit #msr fanfic #msr fanart #txf #x files

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qveerthe0ry · 1 month ago

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Cleansing in the Flame

Summary: Mulder comes out to Scully. Word Count: 11,218 Pairing: Fox Mulder x Dana Scully Rating: 18+ mdni Warnings: descriptions of gender dysphoria, mentions of transitioning, a little bit of internalized transphobia, trans male character, bisexual female character, amab terminology for afab genitalia, oral sex, vaginal fingering, premature orgasm, coming out, confessing feelings, canon divergent, season one A/N: Baby's first MSR fic! Really honestly I just wanted more trans Mulder fics so I'm being the change I want to see in the world I guess. Ao3 link

The first time Fox Mulder saw an issue of Playboy, his hair was still long and his parents still called him Sarah, and he was still a year away from puberty.

He remembers it like it was yesterday, not because of the naked women, but the way they made him feel. Like something was off. He knew he liked girls, and he knew that was frowned upon, so he kept it to himself when he developed crushes on his friends at school.

It wasn’t that. It was disgust, actually. Disgust at the idea that what he saw on the pages was what he was destined for. Breasts, wide hips, hairless skin. It made him sick. Instead of eating dinner at the table with his parents and sister, he faked a stomach ache and then cut all of his hair off with the scissors in the bathroom.

His mother cried, his father told him he was too old to be pulling shit like this. He tried not to hold it against them, because they couldn’t possibly understand what compelled him to do it.

So he told them. He told them over and over and over again, for years. He’d cut his hair himself, he’d refuse the frilly clothes, and finally, finally, something snapped.

He got what he wanted. He got the wardrobe, he got the trip to his dad’s barber shop, he got the medications only someone like his father would be able to access. He got his records changed, and a new private school, and Sarah Mulder was dead, just like that.

The second time Fox Mulder saw porn, it was a grainy video one of his buddies found when he was fourteen. He also remembers that like it was yesterday.

He spent every night that week staring at himself in the mirror with a pair of tube socks stuffed in his boxers.

He got his hands on more porn as the years passed by. He was obsessed with studying the men, the way they acted, the way they treated women, the way women treated them. By the time he finally shipped off to Oxford, he was convinced he was ready to be the man he always wanted to be.

It turns out, there was only a small subset of women who wanted the man he’d become.

That’s really where it all began. Aside from Phoebe and the disastrous end (and beginning and middle, if he’s honest) of their relationship, he didn’t get much action.

He lived in a fantasy world, inside his adult videos and the magazine subscriptions he couldn’t afford and the phone calls he definitely couldn’t afford. There were women along the way, but he knew quite well they would be temporary.

Porn is forever.

And he’d never been ashamed of it before.

So why is he all of a sudden so embarrassed about it when Scully starts making jokes about his habit?

You know why, he thinks, late at night, as he relives all the mortifying ways she’s revealed her knowledge of his extracurriculars.

Because Dana Scully’s perfect. So perfect. Everything about her. He’d fallen in love before he even met her, as he read through her dissertation with heart-shaped pupils.

And then she came knocking on his basement office door and treated him like a human being and he melted at her nonchalant kindness.

Yes, she makes it quite clear that she thinks he’s bat-shit crazy. Yes, she works hard to pick apart every word he says. He likes that. He never believed in the term opposites attract until he met her, but her grounded personality and level head made him realize it isn’t just a cliche.

And she’s beautiful, of course. Which sucks so much worse. It would be so easy to ignore how well they work together if she wasn’t so goddamn enticing. He likes the way she makes him feel so big, always staring up at him, always so dainty under his palm.

Her eyes freeze him in place more often than he’d like to admit, striking against her frizzy strawberry hair. She hates it, complains about the way it curls up at the ends. Mulder loves it. Sometimes, when she’s standing in front of a light source, all those frizzy ends create a halo around her head and he thinks maybe he could believe in god because she’s simply angelic.

And her lips. Mulder’s favorite thing to do on his morning commute is to guess what color lipstick she chose for the workday. He likes it best when she wears none, or a clear gloss, because he imagines her nipples are the same dusky pink color.

He tries really hard not to objectify her, tries to keep his private thoughts respectful. She’s the most powerful woman he’s ever met, and she uses that power for good, because she is good. He’s already afraid of corrupting her, and when his thoughts drift off to inappropriate places, he feels guilty.

Not guilty enough to stop renting the same six redhead-starring videos from his local adult store, though.

The worst thing is, there’s no way she’d ever fall in love with him. Aside from the fact that he’s a conspiracy theorist and she’s as factual as a scientist can get, aside from the fact that he’s a loner with weirdo friends and no real hobbies, she deserves someone normal.

A normal man. Someone who can give her children, a normal life, not a pretend one like he still feels he’s living after all these years.

He hasn’t told her.

It’s why he’s been extremely protective of his medical records, why he’s denied her offer to take over his charts and be his doctor for convenience’s sake. It’s why he’s extremely grateful that he got top surgery so young and his scars healed so well that they’re virtually unnoticeable under his chest hair.

A part of him, the self-loathing part, feels like he’s been lying to her this entire time. It’s just that they haven’t even been working together for a year, yet, and when is it a good time to come out to someone? They got so close so quick that now he feels she’ll be hurt that he didn’t tell her sooner.

And really, the biggest reason of all, is that if she doesn’t know, then maybe he can pretend that they’ll get together one day.

It all comes to a head on a case, when he’s kicked Scully out and searched through the naughty channels and finally settled on one when she comes barging through his door with a file in her hand.

The TV is facing the doorway, and he shuts it off quickly, but not quick enough.

“Geeze, Mulder, I’ve been gone for five minutes.”

His face is hot, with shame, yes, but anger too. Mostly at himself, but a little at the fact that she didn’t bother knocking.

“I didn’t think you were coming back.”

She huffs, a smirk playing at the corner of her pretty mouth, and it makes him feel tingly all over in the worst way.

“I’m not a pervert,” he says, before his brain catches up with his mouth.

One meticulously plucked eyebrow quirks up.

“I never said you were.”

Mulder crosses his arms over his chest. Scully mirrors him with the file still in her hand. Her head cocks to the side and he almost misses the way her eyes flicker below his belt for just a millisecond before meeting his face again.

He has to tell her, doesn’t he? He can’t keep going on without getting this off his chest.

“I have to tell you something.”

She finally closes the motel door behind her. His ears are ringing. He can feel all of his boiling blood pumping through every vein in his body.

“What’s wrong, Mulder?”

She settles in a chair next to the bed. She’s so perfect, god, it makes him want to throw up. Her blazer is gone, her crisp white shirt is unbuttoned a casual amount. He loves the way she doesn’t cross her legs when she sits in pants. Her knees always align with her narrow shoulders; it’s so Scully.

Now, she sets her elbows on her knees, the file dangling between her legs as she looks at him expectantly.

“I um… There’s something I want you to know. About me.”

The teasing look on her face dissipates. Her eyes widen and her brows draw together with concern, but she’s quiet as she patiently waits for him to continue.

His throat feels thick and his palms are sweatier than ever as he searches for the right words, the right way to begin this conversation.

“I uh… I wasn’t…” he huffs as he looks up at the popcorn ceiling above their heads.

“Take your time,” she says, hushed and patient and calm, and her gentle tone is what gives him the strength to look over at her again.

She looks worried. It’s what compels him to rip the bandaid off, to save her from the suspense.

“I’m transgender.”

And he doesn’t even feel relief like he thought he would, because he still has another confession weighing on his shoulders. I’m also in love with you.

“Thank you for sharing that, Mulder.”

He opens his eyes without realizing he closed them in the first place. She looks calm. Eerily calm. Even more than that way that irritates him sometimes when he thinks he’s onto something big and she doesn’t see any concern.

“You’re not… Surprised?”

He watches her bite her lip. God, how one woman can be so cute and sexy at the same time is so beyond him. His heart is racing for so many different reasons.

“I didn’t want to assume, but I am a medical doctor. I’ve uh… seen some things while you were in the hospital. Not like that— I mean, your charts.”

How?

“I’m sorry if I crossed a boundary.”

Mulder shakes his head.

“No, no. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

Scully sighs and stands, and in the second it takes her to sit on the bed next to him, he’s already begun to spiral.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Mulder.”

She’s sincere. He knows by the tone of her voice and by the way she brushes his hair from his forehead, always fussing over him. It makes his whole body feel overheated and clammy.

“You’re not upset?”

She laughs, one of those indignant huffs that he’s so accustomed to.

“Not at all. Why would I be?”

“I lied, I kept it from you. You’re supposed to trust me—”

“Mulder,” she whispers. He can’t meet her intense gaze, but she continues nonetheless, “I trust you with my career, my safety, my life. Something so trivial would never change that fact.”

When he finally works up the courage to look at her, she’s smiling at him, like he’s the one being silly. Maybe he is. Maybe he should have known that Dana Scully is actually perfect, no exceptions.

He works his lips up in the corners to hopefully resemble some kind of smile. It’s hard with how his heartbeat is deafening him, and how he kind of wants to cry.

“I don’t see what this has to do with your porn habits, though.”

Perfect. She is so fucking perfect, he’ll never doubt her again.

She’s grinning at him with her eyebrow cocked up, all smug and teasing, and he loves her so fucking much that it’s burning a hole in his chest.

“It’s stupid, maybe. I just got into the habit of watching the men, you know? How they act, how they, uh, y’know. It’s like I’m studying.”

She stares at him for a beat and then giggles. A bubbly little noise she can’t contain, a noise Mulder wants to fall asleep to every night.

“O-kay, if you say so.”

“Hey! That’s perfectly valid, is it not?”

“I wouldn’t say modeling yourself after men in pornography is valid, no. Mulder, this crap is misogynistic, patriarchal propaganda. They treat women like objects, like receptacles.”

He’s taken aback by her fiery bluntness. He’s half-aware that his jaw is hanging open like a jackass, but he’s looking for words to say and can’t grasp any.

“Any man would benefit from treating a woman like a woman would.”

He finally has something to say, but as he sucks in a deep breath to respond, she halts him.

“And not from watching that junk made by men, for men.”

He nods. He’s not entirely sure why he hadn’t thought of it this way, but it all does make a ton of sense. It’s glaringly obvious, actually, clearing up the teenage fog in his brain that’s always surrounded his propensity for porn.

“Well, Scully, it sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”

And it’s fair game, right? He just came out to her and she scolded him for his porn choices with laughter. They can joke like this, right?

She freezes, though. Crosses her arms over her chest self-consciously. It makes him want to suck all the words back in and staple his mouth shut.

“Maybe I am, Mulder.”

She shrugs, like it’s no big deal, but her wavering voice tells a different story.

“You were dating that guy, though. The boring one.”

She rolls her eyes.

“I’m bisexual.”

Jesus, she’s so good at making him feel like an idiot. It’s kind of hot.

“Oh. Umm… thank you for sharing?”

And an ass. He always feels like an ass around her, but it’s reached a new level now.

“I wasn’t trying to hide it from you, it just never came up.”

And now she’s defensive, great, how’d he manage to muck this all up so badly?

“I didn’t say you were, Scully. I’m— look, I’m sorry, it was a bad joke. And you’re right. Maybe you could… uh… pass along some of those learning materials you were talking about?”

She glares at him, but her pretty little lips are trying and failing to suppress a smile.

“For science, Scully.”

She giggles then, and sighs. Mulder figures the conversation is over, and he’ll go back to watching his shauvenistic entertainment while trying not to focus on the fact that Scully is nothing but a wall away.

Instead, she flops back on his mattress, perpendicular to his crossed legs, and places a hand on his denim covered calf. Her gaze meets his, and her smile is soft and secretive and relaxed and beautiful.

“I’m glad we came out to each other. It was kind of driving me insane, pretending to act all prudish when you’d make comments about hot women.”

Mulder’s stunned silent, which is a feat only Scully could accomplish. He’s rarely seen this Scully, laid back and unprofessional. He yearns for her to make an appearance at all times. It makes him feel a mix of horny and lovesick he’s never quite experienced at such a level.

“I mean, it’s a miracle you never clocked me sooner. All those magazines I’ve caught you looking at? I’m only human, Mulder. I was bound to have a reaction sooner or later.”

He attempts to chuckle. Really it just sounds all garbled coming from his dry throat.

“Maybe I suspected,” he finally says, shrugging, “I just didn’t think it was my business one way or another. And that guy— and your ex, whatshisface?”

“Ethan.”

“Ethan, yeah. Poor guy.”

Scully hums and looks away.

“What about you? Any girlfriend? Boyfriend? You’ve never said.”

It’s sweet that she’s asking, even though he’s sure she knows the answer.

“No, no girlfriends,” he laughs softly, “you may be surprised to find I’m not many women’s type, Scully.”

Her dainty little hand squeezes his calf.

“That does surprise me, actually.”

He blinks, watches her demeanor. She’s serious. He laughs again, harder this time.

“Scully,” he groans, “what’s happened to my partner of sound logic and reasoning?”

“What?” Scully squawks, slapping his knee. “You’re a smart guy, handsome, steady job, kind. Charming even, sometimes, if you try really hard.”

He huffs but feels himself curling inward. Is she… flirting? Surely not. She’s just being kind, trying to make him feel better. Handsome???

“Yeah, it works for me up until date number three, then things get pretty awkward pretty quickly.”

Her hand is on his knee now, and her short thumbnail scratches little circles into his patella, and he wants to disappear. She hums and stares at him, and it isn’t pity that makes her gaze feel so heavy. It’s something else, something Mulder doesn’t even dare let himself think.

“Seems kinda silly in the grand scheme of things,” she mumbles. Mulder hardly hears that mousey, tinny register.

“What do you mean?”

She shrugs, looks down at where her hand is searing a fucking hole through his jeans and branding his skin. Mulder places his hand on top of hers, to encourage her or maybe just selfishly to feel her bare skin.

“It’s just… I would see it as a net positive. Knowing your way around the… uh… equipment so to speak.”

Christ.

Of all the things he’d expect to come from her mouth, that’s so low on the list that it’s laughable.

“Dana Katherine Scully,” he gasps. He has to cope with humor. If he doesn’t, he’ll melt into the mattress and become an x-file himself.

She giggles. Giggles. The sound is so beautiful as it pierces the room and bounces off the gaudy wallpaper.

He wants her so bad it’s pathetic. He has the sudden urge to kick a piece of gravel down the road and whistle a sad tune.

“I’m just saying, if they were smart, they’d take advantage.”

“Are you?”

Oh god oh fuck.

“Am I what?”

He clears his throat and looks away and lets his hand fall back into his lap instead of on her hand.

“Mulder, am I what?”

“… Smart?”

His eyes are closed. He’s leaned his head back so far against the tacky motel bed headboard that his neck aches. He wants to run away, but he doesn’t want to stop feeling her hand on his knee, even above his clothes.

It feels like hours before she responds.

“I re-wrote Einstein, didn’t I?”

He pries one of his eyes open, looking down the bridge of his nose at her. She’s smirking, lifting her brow at him with her lips turned up and her cute nose scrunched like it does sometimes.

“You certainly did.”

Mulder’s heart is pounding so hard against his ribcage that his chest aches. He’s stunned still, stiff against the mattress, under the heat of Scully’s palm. He chews on his lower lip as their gazes meet and it feels so much more heated than it ever has, the touch, their shared looks, their words. Dangerous and terrifying.

He holds his breath as Scully bites her own dainty lips. He feels every one of her fingertips when she squeezes his knee, scorching but gentle. It twitches under her touch and he just barely keeps it together enough to swallow the noise that threatens his throat. She smiles at him, so bright in this otherwise dim, dingy room.

He loves her.

“Goodnight, Mulder,” she says.

He deflates as her hand slips from his knee, as she sits up and the bed shifts when she stands. He’s slow to catch up with everything happening, the teasing and the look she gave him and her abrupt parting. He only realizes she’s leaving as she makes her way to the door with the forgotten file tucked under her arm.

“Don’t stay up too late,” she laughs.

He smiles and nods and lets his head thunk back against the headboard as the door closes behind her. He doesn’t turn on the TV, he doesn’t even undress or get under the covers. He just stares at the moldy popcorn ceiling until he dozes off.

____

The drive home should be awkward. Mulder feels rejected. He feels like he overshared and overstepped and overshot. They should be uncomfortable. The air in the car should be tense and thick.

And if it isn’t, then Scully should at least be pretending like nothing ever happened last night. But she’s not. That same air of ease and comfort she harbored after their shared coming out is still here. She laughs at his stupid jokes, and she makes some herself, and she playfully slaps his arm when he says something inappropriate.

She is flirting.

This is a Scully he’s never seen before. She’s acting like a schoolgirl. Or what Mulder imagines a schoolgirl would have acted like had he ever had an interaction with one in this way.

Mulder should clarify, unpack what they told each other, what it means for them. He doesn’t. Instead, he throws every tenth seed shell at her and lets his heart skip a beat when she giggles his name and crinkles up her face in mock-disgust.

It’s eerie how stark the contrast is when they make it back to Hoover, how her sweet grin is replaced by a professional smile, how her pointy shoulders go from gooey and lax to nearly touching her ears. This is the Scully he expected on the drive home, yet he’s still jarred by it as they waltz into Skinner’s office for the briefing.

It was a cut and dry case, there’s nothing for Mulder to be nervous about. But as Skinner drones on about the procedures and paperwork and expense reports, he can’t help but wonder if he’ll ever get to see that rare version of Scully again. If everything changed, or if nothing changed.

His leg bounces up and down at a pace so rapid it could shake the entire building, yet he doesn’t even notice until Scully’s hand lands on his knee. Again. As he settles his heel to the ground, he thinks maybe Scully’s fingers could be imprinted on his kneecap. He’d welcome it, at least. To look down and see the reminder of her grounding presence molded into his skin? He craves it, actually.

Instead, they slip away quietly and without ceremony into her own lap again. Skinner cuts them loose, and Mulder stares at his watch for far too long on the elevator ride down to the basement.

He swears with every tick of the second hand the air between them gets more dense.

He stands purposelessly at his desk. It’s 4:08pm.

“Think I’ll head home early. Not much I can get done in an hour anyway.”

He has to drag his eyes from his shoes to look at her. She’s draping her bag on the back of her chair, like it’s any other normal day. Something about it makes his insides squirm.

“Oh, okay. I was just going to organize a few things.”

She shrugs, and smiles that soft, unguarded smile.

“Cool… Thanks. I’ll see ya.”

He nods toward the door but doesn’t head for it quite yet. She steps toward him, just one little Scully foot forward.

“Have a good weekend, Mulder.”

He holds his breath and turns on his heel and mumbles some semblance of a goodbye he can’t really hear as his blood rushes in his ears.

One moment he’s unlocking his car door in the parking garage, and the next moment he’s standing in the middle of his living room. He can’t recall the drive home, or even changing into jeans, but he must not have eaten because his stomach grumbles as he collapses into his couch.

The past 24 hours weigh him down heavily; he half expects to pop a spring or two in the ancient leather sofa.

Now that Scully’s not glued to his side, his thoughts are swirling in a completely different direction.

She knew.

It’s been nearly four months since the first time Scully visited him in the hospital. She’s known for four months and never said a thing, never even looked at him differently. Never treated him differently.

Christ, maybe he should be more alarmed at how well she can hide things, or how his knack for profiling has slipped.

All he can feel, though, is love. A sickening, overwhelming, all-consuming warm and fuzzy feeling that makes him nauseous, makes his breathing all quick and his pulse race despite his supine position.

He thought he loved her before. Her intelligence and earnestness, her contradictions of faith, her loyalty to him and their work, it all completely chewed him up and spit out a lovesick Mulder.

But now?

Knowing she’s known this whole time and had so much respect for him that he couldn’t even tell?

He closes his eyes and tries to tamper down the grin that splits his face so wide his cheeks ache.

Dana Katherine Scully, the love of his life. He wants to shout it from the rooftops, he wants to doodle Fox Scully and Dana Mulder in a notebook to see which one looks better, he wants to tell her.

He’s so caught up in imagining her holding a beautiful bouquet in an all-white pantsuit that he barely hears the faint knock at his apartment door.

On autopilot, he peels himself off of the couch to answer it.

It’s frankly alarming to see Scully standing in his hallway just moments after thinking about their wedding day.

“I’m glad you’re here, I brought you something.”

He looks back into his apartment, untidy but not dirty, nothing extremely embarrassing anywhere visible, at least he hopes. She’s shifting from foot to foot when he opens the door wider and ushers her inside with a hand on her elbow.

“You miss me already?” He jokes.

His voice doesn’t even sound real. Completely foreign to his own ears.

She rolls her eyes at him but smiles anyway, sets her purse down next to his phone on the table.

She’s wearing jeans, and a soft sweater that makes Mulder wonder if her skin is even softer. She looks fantastic and she smells even better, a perfume he’s only caught a whiff of on occasion. And she’s in his apartment.

He lingers by the door as she rifles around in her purse. He’s not sure how long she plans to stay and doesn’t want to embarrass himself by assuming and settling on his sofa.

Finally she hums and spins around to face him, a videotape with a generic cover in her grasp.

“What’s this?”

She pawns it off on him gingerly, and he turns it over in his hands.

“It’s that learning material you requested. It’s my favorite, though, so it’s strictly a rental.”

He nearly drops it. It fumbles from one hand to the other on its downward path but he’s able to trap it against his stomach. His face feels hot for so many different reasons. He knows by the amused look on Scully’s face that she can see the red bloom across his cheeks and down his neck.

Scully watches porn.

Scully has a favorite porno.

He feels as if he holds the proof of alien life in his sweaty palms.

“I uh— thank— thank you.”

His voice hasn’t cracked this much since he was eight months on testosterone.

Her gaze goes soft. Again, it isn’t pity. It isn’t anywhere near those looks he’s gotten from women past. It’s entirely new, and as she steps forward into his space he allows himself to imagine that maybe even a fraction of his feelings are reciprocated.

She’s looking up at him through her lashes. He watches a tinge of uncertainty flicker across her face and he can’t let that happen. His arm feels leaden when he lifts it, so slowly, to wrap his hand around her slim waist. One half-step forward and his hand with the tape is brushing against her stomach, and he has to tilt his neck even further down to hold her gaze.

“Scully—”

“I wanted to kiss you last night,” she says, and rolls her eyes at herself.

Her words pour over him like a bucket of boiling water, acutely spreading heat throughout his jittery body.

“Why didn’t you?”

“Bureau policy— Male and female agents can’t consort in the same motel room.”

She says it so matter-of-fact, like it’s obvious, like they haven’t consorted in motel rooms all across the country, pouring over case files spread across the scratchy comforters.

But what weakens his knees the most is that she doesn’t think of him as some loophole, or technicality. He is a man to her, with no asterisks or footnotes.

He clears his throat and swallows to try and force that lump down, but his words come out gravely anyway.

“Do you still want to kiss me?”

She blinks slowly, and nods her head, and her eyes trace a syrupy slow line from his eyes to his lips. The heat of her body presses even closer to his, and if she were taller he knows he’d be able to feel her breath on his face.

His grip on her waist tightens. He drops his head down even further and watches her lips curl into a smile just as he closes his eyes—

“Wait.”

He careens back. He expects to see something terrible in her expression, apprehension or displeasure or anger even. But when he blinks his eyes open she’s got that familiar exasperation littering her features.

“Put the porno down, Mulder.”

He laughs, god, and feels so fucking relieved. He makes a show of carefully placing it down next to her purse, turning back with his hands raised like a cornered perpetrator.

She’s slipping out of her pristine sneakers as she rolls her eyes at him, all icy blue and wide. She’s making herself comfortable. In his home. He takes a mental snapshot so he never forgets this moment.

Then her little socked feet carry her toward him once again, only stopping when she’s pressed against him entirely. She’s warm and fragrant and soft and it’s undeniable how easy it is to encircle her in his arms when she reaches to place her cold hands on his heated neck.

“Maybe you should let me watch a bit of that tape first, y’know? For some instruction?”

He’s stalling. This is the moment he’s been waiting months for and he still can’t kick this nervous habit of joking around when he’s uncomfortable.

She kicks it for him.

“Shut up, Mulder.”

No sooner than his name leaves her lips do they press against his. Her body’s plastered against him as she leans up on her toes to reach his mouth. There’s a sharp inhale and he’s not sure who it comes from, because his senses are dialed down to his lower lip that’s captured between her two.

He melts into her, sags down to wrap his arms even tighter around her and encourage her to melt into him, too.

And she does, nearly knocks him over with the way she leans her entire body weight into his. They fit so perfectly that it’s dizzying. There’s a comfort he feels that’s so new in a situation like this. Like he’s safe, like he’s home.

Her lips are so warm and soft and wet. She takes from him, sets the pace, delivers this perfect push and pull that feels as natural as everything else does between them. He lets her, gives himself over to her and follows her steady, almost methodical lead.

He’s so torn between thinking it’s finally happening, finally, after all I’ve imagined, she’s finally here and willing his brain to shut off so he can just be. It’s only when Scully is tumbling backward does he realize she’s been tugging them toward the couch.

Her grip is steady on the back of his neck as she sits. He bends over as much as he can and then kneels, one knee down then the other. Her legs bracket his body as he leans into her more, grips her hips and feels his thumbs swipe under her cashmere to find something even smoother.

Her skin is soft and warm and the sound he makes should embarrass him. But the answering whimper she breathes into his mouth only eases him more. She bites down on his bottom lip and it goes straight to his lower gut, an alarming shockwave of arousal.

He pulls away. It takes summoning the strength of ten thousand men to slip his lips from between her pointy canines. They’re breathing like they’ve been on a chase, and Scully’s pupils are bigger than he’s ever seen them before.

He’s never felt so vulnerable in his life than he does right now. Under her heated gaze, under her heavy hands, he’s so torn between excitement and terror. And he knows that he has to lay all his cards down, before anything else happens, or he’ll end up closer to death than he ever has before.

“Scully,” he starts, “I can’t come back from this.”

He shakes his head and squeezes her hips.

She’s got a bit of mauve lipstick smeared at the corner of her mouth as her eyes get wider and search his own.

“What do you mean?”

Her whisper is loud in the otherwise silent apartment.

“I— I’m… Crazy about you,” he swallows, “I don’t think I could cope with it, if this is just some whim for you.”

Her eyebrows draw together, and her nails scratch so gently at the back of his neck. He shivers, and his eyes close at the feeling.

He holds his breath, just for a second, until he feels Scully’s warm lips brush his earlobe.

“You’re not a whim for me, Mulder,” she breathes.

When he exhales, the scent of her shampoo wafts into his face and does nothing to calm him down.

“No?”

She shakes her head and leans back to meet his eyes.

“You’re it, for me.”

He wants to cry. His lungs feel like they’re burning. He squeezes his eyes shut again, and Scully rests her forehead against his damp one.

“Is that okay?”

He laughs, a little huff of air that makes him wish he had an affinity for breath mints instead of sunflower seeds.

“It’s… unbelievable.”

She laughs too, but it’s heavy and wet and unlike her usual airy giggles that he loves so much.

He opens his eyes. Here, kneeling between her legs, he feels like he’s at the altar. Like his prayers are by some miracle being answered.

He stares up at her, and he swears she emanates light. It’s blinding, her beauty. Her crystal blue eyes and her sultry lips and that cute fucking mole right next to her enticing Cupid’s bow that’s always hiding beneath concealer. The freckles on her cheeks that become more and more visible as the day goes on and her makeup fades. The way her hair goes whatever direction it wants to and shines no matter how dark the room is.

He loves her so much, and hopes to whatever god is real that she’ll hear it even if he doesn’t dare speak the words yet.

His hands are shaking as they slip beneath her sweater. She arches toward him, encouraging him, as her lips seal around his own again.

He drags them up the contours of her waist, lets his thumbs tease from her bellybutton up to her sternum. Her ribs are so small in his hands, and he marvels at it for quite some time before he continues up.

The webs between his thumbs and forefingers brush the underside of her breasts. She’s not wearing a bra. Of course she isn’t. She shouldn’t ever. Her tits are so perfect and perky and round and Mulder throbs in his jeans when he feels the light weight of them in his palms.

She pushes them out for him, and makes noises into his mouth he’s only ever dreamed of hearing.

Her eyes are shut tight when he pulls back.

“Off?” He asks, his voice raspy and heady and quiet.

Her eyelids flutter open so slowly as she nods and grabs the hem of her sweater. He sits back on his heels to watch as she reveals, inch by tantalizing inch, the textbook definition of porcelain skin.

He presses his palm against the fly of his pants as he notes a faint birthmark on her hip bone, and the cutest little divot above her bellybutton. He wants to eat it all up, sink his teeth into all this uncharted Scully territory. Her ribs protrude a bit as she lifts her shirt higher, and then those small, round breasts bounce as they’re released from the cashmere. His mouth opens as he discovers her nipples are darker than her lips, devours the sight of her dusky areolas and erect nipples.

His tongue involuntarily runs across his lower lip as he eyes the dark, coppery curls under her arms. When she finally gets her sweater over her head, her hair just tickles her pale, bony shoulders. He doesn’t know where to look. His eyes dart all over, frantic and hurried, until they land on her face.

She looks shy, more bashful than he’s ever seen her before, and that just won’t do. He surges forward to kiss her quivering lips and groans as he takes her breasts in his hands once more.

Her nipples are so full and stiff against the meat of his palms. He rolls them under his hands and she grasps his wrists to encourage him with a soft gasp.

He mumbles her name as his kisses trail from the side of her mouth to her sharp jaw. She makes a questioning noise, like she doesn’t know what he’s on about, like she doesn’t realize this is the single greatest moment of his entire stupid life.

“You’re the most beautiful woman in the world.”

His confession is panted across the hinge of her jaw. He hears her scoff above him. He raises one eyebrow sky high as he pulls back to look at her.

“What, you think I’m lying?”

“I think you’ve seen plenty of beautiful women, Mulder.”

He blushes a bit at her subtle dig, but scoffs right back at her and shakes his head.

“None of them could touch you.”

He looks her right in the eyes as he says it. It’s such an objective truth. He spares her the details of his search for a Scully look-alike at the adult movie store, and how anytime he watches porn the only thing he can think about is how he wishes it were himself with her instead of two strangers.

Her hair covers her face as she tilts her head down. He slides his hands from her tits to her neck, cradles it in his palms as she still hangs onto his wrists. He swipes her hair behind her ear and she finally looks up at him. Her face is so flushed, so cute, and gorgeous, and he’s in absolute awe that she’s here with him like this. But she’s smiling, and her eyes are shining, and she kisses him breathless for what feels like the first and the millionth time.

He feels every inch of her soft skin. Her hips and her waist and the dimples on her lower back that he’s been dreaming of since their first case. The knobs of her spine, her sharp shoulder blades. Her tongue runs circuits around his mouth, learning every crevice, every tastebud, until he pinches her nipple and she arches and gasps his name with her head thrown back.

Fuck.

She’s said it a million times by now, hasn’t she? But like this, with her eyelids all heavy and her breath coming in labored, it’s nothing short of life-changing. He takes the other one between his lips in hopes he can make her say it like that over and over again.

Her fingers card through his hair and tug a bit, no bite behind it, but fuck if it doesn’t get him even more wet than he already is. It’ll be an embarrassing mess in his briefs if they make it that far, but even that thought sends him reeling. He can’t wait any longer, he’s parched for the taste of her. He grinds against the heel of his hand once, twice, then moves it to the waistband of her jeans.

Before his gaze even travels up to meet hers she’s nodding and lifting her hips, encouraging him. He wills his shaking hands to get steadier as he works her button through its hole, then pulls her zipper down. Her hands push at her jeans just as his do. When she arches her back and lifts her hips and he tugs her pants down, the smell of her arousal hits his nose like a freight train.

Her scent wipes any last bit of restraint from his tiny little brain. He buries his face between her legs with a pathetic little noise and breathes her in. Her hips twitch under his firm hold. His brain goes startlingly quiet, and all he can focus on is the thin, cotton material of her panties that are soaked against his stubbly chin, and the salty, earthy aroma that’s caused it.

It’s Scully. It’s her very essence. His partner, his best friend, wet and needy and writhing against his face. He whines and digs his fingernails into her perfect skin and leaves irritated streaks down her hips as he hooks into the elastic around them.

Her grip on his hair gets more insistent with his hesitation to come up for air. The sharp tinge of his scalp would only egg him on if it weren’t for how hot it is that she’s impatient for this, too. He tugs the unassuming black fabric down her legs and swears he hears a chorus of angels singing when her thighs part for him.

Gorgeous, just like everything else about her. Her little mound is covered in darker curls, with striking highlights of that red he loves so much streaming through here and there. She’s swollen beneath those, trimmed for easy access, a fact that sends his mind into a frantic flurry that comes and goes like the wind. Wet, too, so wet that she’s leaking onto the leather of his couch. He hopes it fucking stains, hopes he’ll never be able to wash it out.

Her folds cascade so beautifully and gracefully; Georgia O’Keefe couldn’t dare to dream of recreating it. And at the very tip of her, as if she couldn’t get any fucking cuter, is the smallest little clit he’s ever laid eyes on. It’s protruding from its hood, taunting him, calling to him like a siren.

“Mulder.”

His eyes dart up to meet Scully’s. Her face is blood red, and she’s squirming, and he wonders exactly how long she had let him gawk at her pussy.

“Sorry, sorry. Just— Getting acquainted.”

He smirks when she whimpers, and gasps when her fist twists in his hair.

“I won’t beg,” she pants, but even that sounds like a plea.

He huffs and gets his arms under her thighs as he shakes his head.

“I’m the one on my knees, here. Jesus, Scully.”

His cock is harder than it’s ever been in his entire life. He’s already on edge, and he’s shifting his hips so it drags against the fly of his jeans, as subtle as he can manage.

Her nails scrape his scalp. He bends his elbows inward and rests his hands on either side of her pussy, his thumbs spreading her just slightly, just enough to make her gasp. It’s all he can do to watch with awe as her cunt flutters around nothing and her clit pulses before he lowers his face.

He starts with just the tip of his tongue, light as a feather, to trace the slightly stubbly outer lips. It doesn’t stop her from jolting in his grasp and whispering curses he’s never heard from her before now. It very quickly becomes not enough, for both of them, so he teases down to dip into her cunt and taste all the juice that’s made her so messy. She shifts under his hands, and he gets it, but he can’t give up so easily. He wants to savor this, and her.

He rolls the tang of her over his tongue and swallows before he licks a flat stripe up. The feeling of her folds parting against his tongue nearly makes him come. Supple and smooth and so fucking delicious. He moans when he finally feels her tiny little pearl against his taste buds, then again when she grinds up into his mouth.

His own hips jolt. Shamelessly, he grinds them again and again as he rolls his flat tongue against her. The friction is just not quite enough to get him there, and it’s fucking torturous.

He moves one hand down to his fly just for a second, just to ease the pressure and throbbing.

“That’s so good,” he hears.

He lifts his eyes but not his face, drowning in her and unwilling to come up for air. But when he finds her eyes locked on his hand at the front of his jeans, he can’t control the noise he makes.

He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath through his nose to will himself away from the edge that’s blindsided him.

“So hot, touching yourself like that,” she pants.

He whimpers as her clit slips from between his lips.

“I’ll come,” he warns her.

His voice is strange and strained to his own ears.

But she just moans and arches up into him.

“So come.”

It feels like his whole body bursts into flames. His hips jerk against his hand and all he can do to stave off the embarrassment is envelop her clit and groan around it as he unravels. He hangs on to his last wit and works his tongue against her to the rhythm of his writhing against his palm.

And she talks him through it, tells him how hot it is, how good he is. She’s a menace, she’s evil, and he’s so fucking in love with her. He wonders briefly if he accidentally wrote ‘I have a praise kink’ in black sharpie on his forehead as he begins to come down. But of course he didn’t, she just knows, because she’s perfect.

“Please make me come,” she finally says, and it cuts straight through any post-orgasmic haze to kick him into gear.

He lifts his hand to his mouth and wets two of his fingers. He circles her wetness with them and glances up for her permission. He’s nervous, all of a sudden, that he won’t know what she likes, that he can’t please her, that maybe this whole thing is a big mistake.

But when he sees the look on her face, a look he’s never seen on her before, the doubt fades to the background. She nods her head and tilts her hips to urge him to continue.

He does. He slips two fingers into her and groans at how warm and wet and tight and smooth she feels. Her head falls back against the couch and her hand that’s not gripping his hair like a vice cups her own perky breast. His eyes close and he locks in, finds her perfect bud at the same time his fingers stroke over the rough, swollen spot inside of her.

He can feel her clenching around him, her walls tightening and releasing around his fingers in rhythmic pulses that mesmerize him. He gets so lost in it, the feeling of her squeezing him and her clit throbbing against his tongue and her noises.

They aren’t like any noises he’s ever heard, not in porn or with the handful of women he’s slept with. They’re breathy and quiet, but not shy. She’s not holding back, he can tell, but she’s not exaggerating. She gasps and moans and hisses his name through her teeth. Her hips rock up into his face and his hand, her own still coiled tightly in his hair. He’ll never get tired of this, no matter how many times she lets him.

It’s that thought that has him doubling his efforts— that he gets to do this now. She said so, that he’s it for her. He taps his fingers harder and faster against her g-spot and shakes his head back and forth with his tongue hanging from his mouth.

She cries out, loud enough that he worries about the thickness of his apartment’s walls.

“Don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop—” she begs, “I’m gonna come— Mulder!”

She comes, hard.

Her juices trickle down the palm of his hand as she writhes and shakes against him. Her thighs clamp around his ears and muffle the mewling sounds coming from her. He continues his pace as she tugs his hair and doesn’t slow until he feels all of her muscles start to loosen up. Even then, he works her aftershocks out of her gently and slowly until she physically pushes him away.

Panting just as hard as she is, Mulder rests his head against the thin, pale skin of her thigh. It’s hot under his cheek, under his lips. He drags his eyes up from the scene of the crime to gauge her reaction, praying she hasn’t yet come to her senses— that she never does, when it comes to him.

Her head’s still thrown back as her chest heaves up and down. He can’t help but to stroke her sweaty skin with his fingertips. The skin of her hip is smooth and tacky, and she jolts at the sudden touch and then squirms a bit on the damp leather. He watches with amazement as she settles and goosebumps break out across her skin. He sighs and looks back up at her when he finally feels her gaze.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

Her blacked-out eyes search his for a moment before she giggles that fucking giggle that gives him butterflies.

“Mulder,” she starts, her laugh fading, “you’re crazy.”

He smiles probably too wide and chuckles against her thigh.

“So I’ve heard.”

She shifts in a big way, and he finds himself mourning the feeling of being pressed against her before he’s even gone. But she just leans forward to grab his face in her hands and then kisses him.

Her tongue seeks out every inch of his mouth, stealing her taste from him. He lets her, whining as she licks behind his teeth, gripping her hips so he doesn’t float off into space. When she’s satisfied she’s erased all evidence of herself from his mouth, she pulls back with the most beautifully dazed expression on her freckled face. Her thumbs swipe back and forth over his cheekbones and it makes him feel full.

“Your knees,” she whispers.

“I don’t remember having knees,” he mumbles.

She shakes her head at him and tugs on his shoulders. He follows willingly, pursing his lips at the funny face she makes when his knees indeed crackle and pop. He settles beside her, acutely aware of how completely naked she is and how he hasn’t lost a single article of clothing. He grabs for the blanket on the back of his couch, but he stops when she rises to her knees beside him and straddles his denim-clad thigh.

“We can’t both get bum knees,” he warns, even though he grasps her waist loosely.

She scoffs at him as he looks up at her. He’s beginning to really love looking up at her.

“Mulder… Can I make you come again?”

A sudden icy coldness rushes through his veins when she asks. He thought maybe he’d slid under her radar, coming in his pants like a teenager. Like maybe she’d declare that enough for the night, and they could snuggle and he could pretend that he wasn’t different from any other man she’d ever been with, just for a little while longer.

And even though he knows she’s not like the previous women he’d been with— settling, bargaining, apathetic— well, that’s really all he’s had experience with.

“You don’t have to,” he starts, but she cuts him off with just one look alone.

“I know I don’t.”

I want to.

It goes unsaid. It doesn’t need to be said.

She’s stroking his neck with the thumb of one hand and the other rests on his chest. Her lips are parted, and the heat of her center is extremely apparent even through his jeans.

So he nods in affirmative, and no quicker is she reaching for the hem of his white tee shirt. His breath picks up again, and she gingerly works the hem up, up, until he’s lifting his arms and letting her tug it over his head. He can’t shake the feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop as she presses on his shoulders and urges him to lie back on the sofa.

She properly straddles him and leans down to kiss him so gently that his rib cage twinges. He scratches his nails up her arched back and tries to relish the purring noise it coaxes from her.

But then she’s pulling back. He watches her hands like they’re holding a loaded weapon as they smooth over his chest. She twirls the wiry hairs there before she traces the faint scars under his pecs. Her touch is so tender it nearly tickles. He’s torn between eyeing her fingers and her face, gauging her reaction. He comes up short of anything but admiration, especially as she tosses all her hair to one side of her neck to lean down and kiss them.

He can’t breathe. He feels like if he does, all of this will wither away into the ether and he’ll wake up alone on his couch. She trails her kisses down the center of his chest, and he strokes her hair and tries not to tear up at how precious she is to him.

As her lips find his navel, he shudders and stops her with his hand on her cheek.

“Scully— I uh… Things might be different than what you’re used to. Below the belt.”

She smiles a bright smile with a hint of sass.

Stupid, he thinks, she’s a fucking doctor.

“I want to learn you, Mulder.”

He closes his eyes and sighs, sweeps his thumb across the constellations on her cheek.

“Okay,” he whispers.

His stomach muscles jump under her lips each time they press against his skin. He keeps his eyes closed and his hand glued to her face, feeling her jaw working as she litters little love bites into his Adonis belt.

He jolts again when her hand grazes his cock to unbutton his jeans.

“Can I?”

He finally works up the courage to look down at her. Her eyes are pleading, a deadly mix of adorable and downright naughty.

“Please, Scully. I want you to.”

She hums and drags the zipper down. He throbs at the featherlight touch, and he feels a fresh sprinkling of sweat start to prickle at his temples.

She tugs his jeans down, and he lifts his hips and pushes his underwear along with it with a gasp.

Being so exposed like this normally makes him feel vulnerable and scared and insecure and inadequate. But with her hot breath at the crook of his knee and her lips turned into a smile and her eyes focused on his own, he just feels warm, cozy, content.

And painfully hard.

She looks up at him through those auburn lashes from between his legs and it’s surreal. He’s thought about this so much, but done so much mental gymnastics to make it work out in his head. Never did he ever think she’d just accept him as he is like she so lovingly does now.

He strokes his fingers through her hair as her own glide up his thighs. He’s staring at her, and clocks the exact moment her eyes glance down to his crotch. But he doesn’t brace himself. He just watches as her eyes trace over his cunt, his cock.

He’s always been pleased by it, the miracle of hormones and what they’ve done for his body and his mind. The way it shaped him into something much more masculine. His dick stands fairly proudly from its hood, enough that he feels it all day long, a euphoric, physical reminder that he’s not what he once dreaded he might become.

It’s just that no one has ever understood it that way. Until now, at least, as Scully takes him between her thumb and forefinger. She’s so gentle yet clinical. If it were anyone else he’d feel a little freaked out. But it’s Scully, and she’s appreciating his body with her careful touch and curious gaze and her beautifully scientific mind.

“Does this feel good?”

She’s stroking him perfectly, like she’s trained her entire life for it, like a madman.

“You have no idea,” he tells her as his breath hitches.

She mumbles something into the sparse hairs on his upper thigh that he doesn’t quite catch.

“Hmm?”

“You’re incredible.”

He huffs, feels his breath get caught up in his lungs like they’re filled with tar.

“I— hah, what? Why?”

She smiles all sweet and hums and squeezes his cock a little harder as she strokes it. He whines and his hips buck and her smile turns into a smirk.

“Because I said so,” she tells him.

He takes her word for it. Something about gift horses blinks in his mind before it’s erased entirely by the feeling of her dainty lips pressing a kiss to the very tip of his dick.

“Oh my god,” he whispers, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Can I suck it?”

“Oh my god,” he groans, “yes, yes please.”

It’s a heavy fucking feeling, the arousal and euphoria hitting him like a ton of bricks at those words coming from her lips.

Those perfect lips. The ones that part to make way for her small, pink tongue. He watches her stick it out, watches her eyes flicker down and then back up to meet his as she licks up the length of him. It’s white hot, blinding, like staring into the sun as he watches those lips wrap around his cock.

He can’t do anything but stroke his fingers through her silky hair and try to remember to breathe.

“God, Scully.”

She hums around him, closing her eyes, like she’s savoring some decadent dessert. The vibrations send sparks through his entire system. He tries really hard not to thrust up into her face.

His eyes are glued to the way his cock disappears into her mouth and reappears again. She’s starting out slow and careful. Her tongue cradles the underside of him in a way that feels remarkably loving and tender. Her lips are softer than anything he’s ever felt before, sliding up and down him. The suction is perfect, not too much, not too little. She’s incredible, she’s everything.

“It’s so good,” he breathes.

He slips from her mouth.

“Yeah?”

“Mmhm,” he nods.

“Good. Keep telling me what you like.”

His breath hitches again at her reassurance, and at the care she’s taking, and the sultry low register of her voice he’s never heard before.

“Um… Fingers, too?”

She licks his cock, teasing little flicks of her tongue before she smirks.

“You want me to fuck you, Mulder?”

He shudders. Christ. She’s fucking cheeky after an orgasm.

He doesn’t remember wanting anything more than he wants this, ever.

This isn’t something he’s ever asked of a bed partner. He’d either let them offer it, or go completely without. The fear of asking for too much from someone already expecting a different undercarriage always crippled him into settling. But it’s Scully, and she’s been so good to him, and the way she seems so into it turns him on beyond belief.

Just as he nods, she arches up, spreading her fingers and letting her palms slide up his torso. His chest is heaving when she reaches it, carding through the hair there briefly as she works her way up, up. He slams his eyes shut and groans when her dainty little hand wraps around his throat. No pressure, no squeezing, but the thought makes his prick twitch in the chilly air of his apartment.

She bites her lip as she notices, but doesn’t say a thing, and for that he is eternally grateful. Another day.

Instead, she reaches even farther to press her thumb to his bottom lip.

“Open for me.”

He does, and before he can register what’s happening, he’s got two of her well-manicured fingers in his mouth.

He moans around them, lifts his head to take them in as far as they can go. Their eyes lock in a gaze so heated Mulder feels himself blushing, despite having her appendages inside of him. Her pretty, light eyelashes flutter as he swirls his tongue around and between her fingers.

“Fuck,” she sighs.

He lifts his eyebrow and makes a questioning noise.

“You’re gorgeous,” she answers.

He nibbles her knuckles.

Gorgeous? Cute, maybe. Handsome on a good day. But gorgeous? Says the most gorgeous woman he’s ever laid his eyes on. If he weren’t being promised the most quintessential blowjob of his life, he could die now, happy as a clam.

Scully giggles his name and wiggles her fingers in his mouth to get him to let go, and so he does, reluctantly. They both watch a string of his slobber trail her fingertips, and then she’s pouncing up to kiss him.

He’ll never get used to it, he’s sure. She hums into his mouth and licks along his bottom teeth and all he can do is let himself take it, lie back and enjoy every single second.

She shifts on top of him a bit and he steadies her. His hands smooth over her naked sides but quickly clutch at her flesh when he feels her wet fingers circle his cock. His hips rock up into it, and he spreads his legs as wide as he can on the cramped couch.

She takes the hint, pressing one finger into him achingly slowly. The difference is immediately stark. Her fingers are slender and short compared to his own, and so much more gentle than he’s ever felt. She slides the second one in right after, and his mouth goes slack against her own.

Dana Scully is inside of him.

“Fuck, fuck.”

“Okay?”

“So okay.”

She chuckles against his jaw, her breath hot where she nips at his five o’clock shadow. She presses in and out of him at a torturous pace as she sucks his skin between her teeth. He shifts to give her more access and thinks mark me, everywhere, please. I’m yours.

Instead, she travels back down the length of his body. When he musters up the strength to open his eyes again, she’s smiling up at him. It’s sunny and light and beyond his wildest dreams. Then she crooks her fingers and that sweet grin turns into a smirk and he gasps and clenches around her.

“There?”

“Please.”

He is not above begging, apparently. His leg slips off the couch and he braces the ball of his foot on the floor. He rocks his hips into the rhythm of her curling fingers and tries not to shrivel at the audible evidence of how fucking soaked he is.

Her free hand grabs his own one, lying useless on the couch beside him. She guides it to the back of her head and he nearly chokes on his own saliva. His fingers tangle through her hair just as she lowers her mouth onto him again.

“Use my mouth,” she speaks against his cock.

It’s so over. He’d be embarrassed if it were anyone else, surprised, even. But it’s her. Of course his cunt flutters around her fingers at her words. Of course his cock twitches in her mouth, against the rough buds of her tongue.

His mind won’t quiet down as the watches her take him, a babbling brook inside his own head, how long he’s wanted this, how often he’s thought about, how desperately he’s ached for the sights and sounds and feelings right before him. He can’t stop thinking about how much better it is than he ever imagined, how every one of his nerve endings are ten times as sensitive under Scully’s ministrations. And, of course, like the greedy little bastard he is, he can’t help but to look forward to the next time despite the fact that he’s still fucking her mouth.

He’s fucking Scully’s mouth. He’s using it, like she’d told him to do. And Scully’s fucking him. His grip on her hair turns his knuckles white, and she whines around his cock, and her eyebrows do that adorable thing they do a lot where they knit together.

But then her two dainty fingers press hard and insistent, up against the spot she’s had no trouble assaulting, and the coil in his gut completely snaps.

He cries out her name, and God’s name, and a plethora of obscenities he’s sure neither would approve of. He knows he’s being dramatic but he also knows he’s not completely in control of his body. All he can do is hold Scully’s head in place and grind out his orgasm against her mouth, against the gentle suckling of her tongue against his pulsing, twitching cock, and against her fingers that stay dutifully curled up and still, just for his pleasure.

And to her credit, she only comes up gasping for breath once Mulder’s entire body goes limp beneath her.

He’s wet, like, everywhere. His thighs are messy and every piece of skin that’s touching his cheap leather couch is covered in a sheen of sweat. His hair is damp on his forehead and his eyes, Christ, he’s got tears streaming down the sides of his face.

He covers his eyes with his forearm when he realizes. He tries to take a deep, grounding breath too. Instead, it comes out all shuddery and broken.

His voice is hoarse when he speaks up.

“God, Scully.”

He chances a peek down at her and regrets it immediately. He watches her slip her fingers from him and promptly insert them into her mouth with a hum, like she’s savoring the remnants of a delicious meal. It makes him groan, and he doesn’t even have the energy to try and stifle it. As if that wasn’t punishment enough, she smirks around her own fingers like she’s just debunked his biggest theory yet.

“Thank you,” she says, as both her hands fall to Mulder’s trembling thighs.

He huffs instead of speaking what’s on his mind. But he thinks it, especially as she crawls up the length of him to kiss his bitten lips, and as she curls her body into his. He thinks it when she allows him to cover them both with his scratchy blanket, and as she rests her head over his rapid mess of a heartbeat.

“This feels right, Mulder.”

It’s a quiet, secret whisper into the still of his apartment. He breaks the serenity with a hearty laugh, the kind that overwhelms your belly and bubbles up through your throat without permission. Along with it come the words that have been on the tip of his tongue for the last 24 hours.

“Scully, you’re crazy.”

Tagging some people I think would be into this!

@sp00kymulderr @for-a-longlongtime @perotovar @sin-djarin @seventeenpins @rebel-held @lotusbxtch @sixhours @amanitacowboy @starorbit-bliss @bby-got-books @demonsandbullets @mulderfrl

#msr fanfic #msr #x files fanfic #fox mulder x dana scully #msr smut #msr fanfiction #x files fanfiction #trans fox mulder #fox mulder fanfic #dana scully fanfic #bisexual dana scully #mulder x scully smut #mulder x scully #x files smut

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mcondance · 3 months ago

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fox munch….. fox pushes your hand away when you push at his head cause it’s too much, and he hums in disagreement. you look down at him with eyes full of tears and he meets you with hooded eyes, eyes that tell you you’re not going anywhere for a while. “stay,” he whines against your cunt, circling your entrance once, twice, and then slipping two fingers inside you to distract you. sparks run up your spine, and you whimper as you drop your hand down again, this time curling your fingers into his already messy hair.

he’s so pretty like this, with his faced shoved between your legs. dedication makes him prettier, the way he craves your taste and making you feel good so much that he can’t bare to stop. now that you’ve stopped fighting him, it’s all easy, and you’re grinding against him, all but fucking his face. this is what he really loves. your unabashed chasing of pleasure, the way you stutter “right there— please don’t move, stay right there.”

he wouldn’t dream of it.

feelings that you don’t even have words for overtake you as he flicks his tongue against your clit, and then he wraps his lips around you and kisses your clit like he kisses your lips and you swear you’ve never felt anything better. fox is like that, he does his best to make sure you feel as much as you can. it makes his chest swell with pride as he watches you cave in on yourself, listens to you cry his name around big, heavy sobs.

if he’d pulled away when your body gave you those false signals, you wouldn’t have even reached this point. fox knows when to make you stay.

#fox mulder smut #Hi #[mulder]#i have not Written in a long time so i’m rusty but here #mcondance 2025 #— 🪽

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postmodernbeliever · 1 year ago

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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

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

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.

#Spotify #fox mulder #x files #spooky mulder #the x files #fox mulder x reader #fox mulder x you #soft fox mulder #fox mulder x reader fluff #fox mulder fluff #fox mulder smut #alphabet challenge

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yourbestprincess · 4 months ago

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Alright, well now I gotta go jack off

#fox mulder smut #fox mulder #agent mulder #x files #Fox Mulder x files #fox mulder x reader

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postmodernbeliever · 1 year ago

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ok so i’m writhing on the floor over this

After work

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 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.”

“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.”

“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.”

“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.”

“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.”

“Yeah?”

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

“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 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.

#x files #the x files #x files fanfic #fox mulder #fox mulder smut

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