#quantum hot takes

[puppyboywinger]

hi human beings :-) it’s been far too long since ive made a proper community post but! i’m here! and i offer to you some…

UNPOPULAR COMMUNITY OPINIONS

please don’t yell at me in the reblogs

1. jeffannie is objectively a bad ship. like, within the context of the show. but if you harass people who ship it you’re immature.

2. y’all let jeff winger get away with… so much shit. more so than you would if another fictional character did half the stuff he does. and this is coming from someone who loves him! you can’t pick and choose what you want to be canon!

3. if you hate jeffannie but ship britta x annie you’re a hypocrite

4. if you don’t at least casually ship trobed, you watched the show wrong

5. if you don’t at least casually ship redstreet, you watched the show wrong

6. remedial chaos theory is a good episode, but mixology certification is better

7. pierce hawthorne is a good character. i’m not saying he’s a good person (i don’t think anyone would argue that) but he’s a fantastically written character and i want to see him in more stuff!

this next one is pretty spicy so bear with me

8. shirley bennett is just as racist and homophobic as pierce. she canonically tried to baptize annie against her consent. she supports conversion therapy. at least pierce is vaguely sort of supportive sometimes.

9. season 4 isn’t that bad. calm down.

10. they’re all bad people! all of them! every single character in that show SUCKS and i love them all!

thanks for coming to my ted talk

[thecorporatetower]

Hot take, but we get suspicious of people with a lot of self diagnosed identities who are on TikTok a lot. Especially younger kids. Hate us all you want for saying this but we been keeping this in for too long. And I mean, don’t get us wrong, we support self-diagnosis, but only with proper research and time.

Like, you’re saying you went from being a neurotypical 3 months ago to now you’re saying you’re autistic, have bpd, did, and multiple other disorders, when you’ve never shown any symptoms before, plus you’re like 12?

Yeah. Right.

[anominous-user]

What is your opinion about HoFi and HoO designs? Personally i think HoR, HoT and HoF are better. There's also people complaining about the main story, do you still follow it? I used to like it but since the end of ER arc it seems it's a lot more confusing, and with the OW headache i just skip it all :|

i'mma be honest i'm not a huge fan of HoFi and HoO's designs, the latter even more so. HoFi's design is fine on its own but it doesn't really feel like a new battlesuit, feels more like a HoF skin (specifically time runner, which I guess was foreshadowing. hm). there was also a missed opportunity to throw in some orange accents like in the other HotE incarnations which would have made the design better but oh well.

As for HoO it's...a mess. It absolutely suffers from overdesign in my opinion and the color scheme is kinda bland on Mei (even though I'm normally a fan of it.). only thing i like about it is the mask (which is funny because i keep hearing about how people hate it). i'm still getting her gears bc of the special supply but...i don't know man, it's my least favorite of the new trio designs.

i still follow the main story but I've just been getting frustrated w/ it ever since CH 31 Act 2, and lately for me it's kinda going in one ear and out the other (especially with the technobabble and metaphors used, i just go through the story now and reread the lore later on other platforms) ...so at this point I'm just like "alright let's get this over with" and whenever some shit happens that I don't like I just sigh and move on. Once Part 1 is over i may make another alt just so I can play through it again cuz open worlds are not replayable, though i'm not keen on replaying EE CH 31 Act 2 like. ever again so

(Also whenever Schrödinger I have to fight the urge to skip bc. holy hell)

[evieelyzabethh]

the way u write for arcane x reader are so detailed and in-character, I'm giggling like a like a schoolgirl reading their relationships with the reader ❤️ (also agree that the "slightly pervy jayce" tag will forever be canon). can I also pls request more hcs for canonverse!Viktor x Reader? this time with them already in an established relationship. having viktor as a boyfriend would be the fluffiest thing ever...i would go the ends of the earth for this man

first of all, thank you lovie!!! love seeing other slighty pervy jayce truthers

canonverse!Viktor who enjoys having a pretty girlfriend. Not only do you put up with him, but you are also quite fond of his nonsense. You enjoy listening to his late-night ramblings where he manages to talk himself in circles, tripping over the knots his own accent creates. The late, sleep-deprived nights after working himself into hole are always interesting. He thinks of the oddest questions to ask you.

"Do you ever worry about one day falling through the floor?", you turn to look at him incredulously. His fingers twirled his pencil around as he stared intensely at whatever gibberish he had been writing down, until he stills. You could be convinced he stopped breathing with how shallowly his chest heaved. "What?", and he turns to you, eyes red-shot, expression slightly crazed, his hair flaring around the crown of his head like some spikey halo. "Well, kinetic-molecular theory states that matter is nothing but millions of tiny particles in a perpetual state of motion. That's why if you step of grass, it bends rather than stabbing you straight through your foot, the molecules aren't as densely packed. Granted, what I'm talking about is quantum tunneling, which is more about the energy necessary to break that barrier but..." He's cuts himself off after your hand moves over his chest, resting on top of his beating heart which thrummed far faster than your own pulse. "Vik?" "hm." "I think it's time we go to bed." And he tries to argue, but his words mean nothing as he allows you to gather his papers, stacking them neatly then placing them in the folders you labelled to help be more organized. "But, I really think it's possible. Very low chance of it happening-" "I know, dear, just barely possible. We've had this conversation before." You're already standing, taking his hand as you silently urge him to do the same. Of course, he numbly follows your lead, continuing to argue his point all the way back to your shared bedroom. As soon as his head hits the pillow, he knocks out.

canonverse! Viktor who keeps your apartment freezing. It's not even because he runs hot, it's because he's prone to nosebleeds if he overheats. To balance out the cold and the constantly running fan, there is a weighted comforter and at least one additional blanket on your beds at all times. This being said, his usual sleep attire is some sort of sweatpants or pajama bottoms and maybe a very blood stained, old t-shirt. Since he keeps the room so cold, he is no longer surprised to wake up to you half-way beneath him, head firmly rested on his chest and arms wrapped around his torso. It's a good way to start his day, knowing he should probably head out to the lab, he usually stays until you wake up.

canonverse!Viktor who is a morning guy only because the best parts of his days are his cup of coffee and his good morning kiss. After having to use his brain so much so often, he enjoys the simple mornings he has with you. He likes the domestic act of brushing his teeth with you, he likes seeing you with your morning hair and your wrinkled pajama shirt as you sit on the counter as he makes a quick breakfast on the stove, he likes watching you tie his ties every morning, meticulously picking out which one brough out his eyes the best or went with the color of his vest.

canonverse!Viktor who can handle his liquor...to a point. Whenever you two get invited to functions, that is always what he's relegated to bringing, the bottles. To his credit, he has standards when it comes to drinking, but he always manages to find the strongest stuff imaginable. At first, it's all fun and games watching Jayce make a fool of himself, but after a bit too much, nothing is funny anymore. That liquid courage turns his usual passive aggression into regular aggression. He's not creating problems, but he is definitely making them worse, and you have to take him home after he almost starts a fight.

canonverse!Viktor whose favorite dates with you are people watching. It's a simple activity where the both of you just get to relax, maybe pack some lunch, enjoy the sun, and pick up on random people's juicy conversations. He has one of the most lethal side eyes ever and you have a hard time keeping it together while you react to whatever is going on around you. The insane shit you hear usually becomes an inside joke between the two of you, saying it around Jayce before bursting into a fit of giggles as Jayce gets pouty because he hates being left out of the know. He thinks you two are making fun of him and is too scared to ask

canonverse!Viktor who, when he inevitably proposes, makes both your engagement and your wedding rings. He absolutely never removes either of them. After you two officially tie the knot, he keeps the engagement ring on a necklace and literally never takes off his wedding band. He made them with water resistant so he would never have a reason to take it off. Even before this, though, he always kept reminders of you with him. He keeps a picture of you at his desk, he wears ties you picked out for him, in his breast pocket he keeps a handkerchief you embroidered with your names. Though he complains when you do it, he loves when you leave kiss marks all over his face before work and wears them with pride in his lab.

just canonverse!Viktor who loves his pretty girlfriend very very much!!!

[sparkofthetelling]

okay, finished the video! I do talk about some of the stuff she describes at the end, most importantly how she addresses his documented abuse. Watch it (if you have time, of course), it's a very good video in terms of dissecting his... oeuvre, and for reasons I think it's something that's really important to understand.

I have more opinions that I'm sure I'll reblog this with later TW: Abuse and more generalized misogyny

I think it's the most nuanced take I've ever seen discussing him, and I really appreciate that someone took the time to discern what is him and what is mythologizing.

There's some relatively recent videos shown from the guy who wrote Surely You're Joking and its sequel, that truly make me just feel sad for both the actual person the mythological image was crafted around, and the man who is still like that about him.

The last ~40 minutes are where she attempts to disentangle an actual framing of who he is, which I think is very important to do, especially as someone who's always had a sort of awkward picture of him. Not much time is spent on the abuse, because frankly, I don't think there is much to say there. She makes it clear that it's unacceptable, says this isn't a redemption for him after all, puts forth a message in support of abuse victims, and continues onward.

[There's other conversations about if these actions are redeemable, but I think the fairest thing to say is that while he was clearly acknowledged as, in outward appearances, good to his other two wives and family, and supported his sister and daughter about as much as one seems to could hope to, plus supporting Jenijoy La Belle's tenure, I think I can reasonably say that he never condemned his previous actions, as I believe Dr. Collier would have found that if it was somewhere reasonably stated, and considering the broader picture, he undeniably has a shitstain on his legacy that needs to be mentioned, for reasons further enumerated below.]

I think the harm continually brought up throughout the video done by people wearing a sort of 'garb' of this Feynman-persona to women in STEM fields (because I frankly doubt it's just physics) truly is what makes his personal history so important to address. The video does an excellent job of unpacking how the layman perception of Feynman is essentially crafted, and as he struggled with cancer for the last 10 years of his life, I truly wonder just how different it would be had he actually written a book, especially considering that he died only two years after the first of the litany of books mentioned in the video was published.

To pivot a bit, my perception of Feynman has always been complicated, because I actually was (thankfully) never bought the "misogyny is cool 101" book as a child 'interested in physics'. Most of my knowledge formed about him through awkward pop culture osmosis, and as I learned more about him, much of it was in the context of my undergraduate Quantum/GR/QFT professor who had an appreciation for him. He openly acknowledged that he definitely wasn't the best, but my professor is somewhere in his 50s, went to grad school the first time for String Theory, hated it, went and taught high school for 8 years, and then came back to graduate school. The last portion (about the physics) of that video is so very important to me for this reason, because it really clarified to me why he views Feynman the way he does. A lot of the scientists I know are interested in communicating science to the public, and he's well-known for his passion. It's this which is why I think I've been compared to him in the past, and this really helped my own understanding of why I might be compared to him, because when it comes to some of those traits, especially as Dr. Collier describes them, I do see why someone would find that mapping.

I don't think there's too much more I could say that's not just me sort of rephrasing what's said in the video, but again, go watch it if you can.

I'm only 20 minutes into this and will report back later after finishing it because it was released an hour ago and is 3 hours long

[chillinglyadventurous]

Sneaking Around - Stanford Pines Part 2

Thanks @doggosnoodles12 for requesting a part 2!

Part 1 > Part 2 > Part 3 > Part 4

Tags: NSFW, MDNI!

You were stocking the gift shop shelves. Stan was counting the day’s earning at the cash register behind you when you heard the vending machine swing open. Ford was there with a smile on his face. ‘Bastard’ you thought ‘at least he got to finish.’

It must be so easy to be a man, a quick jerk and he’s done. No need for all the theatrics like women. You hated him for it sometimes, but the thought clouded your mind. You could picture it because you’d seen it before.

He was sitting in the lab. You had watched him so thoughtfully as he stroked himself to you. Your eyes were wide, lips parted ever so slightly as you watched his hand move up and down his length. His stare had been on you, relishing in your flushed cheeks as you sat so close to him, pulling you in for a hot kiss as he came over his hands.

You busied your hands by straighten the bobbleheads on the shelf in front of you. That memory made your hands shake. You couldn’t force the thought of the difference between when he touches himself versus when you do. He was so much more responsive when it was your hand sliding and twisting down his cock than his own. The grunts were a turn on all their own. The way he thrust his hips into you hand was enough to make you gasp.

Nothing, however, compared to how he responded to your mouth. Little whimpers would escape him. His hands would be tangled in your hair as he tried his very best not to push you further down, but it sure felt good when your choked on him, the contraction of your throat mimicking the throbs of your body, breathtaking.

“Busy day?” Ford asked as he crossed over to his brother.

Stan gave a grunt in response, “Would’ve made more money if you weren’t stealing my girl to look at that quantum destabilizer.” By his tone, you could tell Stan was trying not to get angry. He was doing his best to mend fences with his brother, “You better watch her with that thing. One wrong move and, boom, she’s in a lot of trouble.”

A bobble head clattered to the ground at his comment. Both of their gazes were on you, “Sorry.”

Ford gave a soft chuckle, “I watch her very closely. I wouldn’t want her to get hurt.”

Oh, he watched you. He loved watching you, studying how each flick of his tongue caused your face to contort in pleaser. He watched himself slip in and out of you with ease. He made you so wet. He watched when you became so desperate and needy when he tormented you, grinding yourself against his thigh when you could no longer hold yourself back. Yeah, he watched you.

Hurt. No. He’d never hurt you. He could be rough. His fingers often left six little bruises on each hip. You could recall a six fingered, hand-shaped bruise on your left breast a few weeks ago. But, he never hurt you. Always making sure you were alright. You had tried to get him to slap you once. He’d refused, “I couldn’t, ever hit that beautiful face.”

“Well, Shack’s closed, Stan,” you sighed. “Do you mind if I get back down there?

He shrugged, “Do whatever you want, [Y/N]. I’m taking the kids to Greasy’s for dinner.”

“When are you leaving?” Your question overlapped with Ford’s.

Stan gave you both a strange look. His eyebrows crinkled together even though the twins had bounded down the stairs. You gave Dipper and Mabel a smile after your gaze left Ford’s, “Now, I guess.”

You and Ford stood on opposite sides of the gift shop as you watched Stan and the kids leave. As the Stanmobile pulled away from the Shack and disappeared, you could already see Ford bounding to you out of the corner of your eye.

“Stop,” you whispered. You pointed toward the security camera across the room, the same one that was focused on you at that very moment. You didn’t want what you knew was about to happen to be caught on camera.

Ford’s feet stilled. His eyes were hungry. He didn’t want to wait. God, neither did you, but you kept your cool as you waltzed causally back into the house. You swayed your hips a little more than you normally would, tempting your lover to follow you.

Once you were in your bedroom, the door was slammed shut.You didn’t even have time to gasp before Ford was on you, before you were pressed flat against your duvet. Despite his desperation to shove himself into you immediately, afraid to waste a moment, his kiss was soft on your lips. His grip was crushing on your hips, but his kiss was sugary sweet.

“I’m sorry, my love,” he forced himself between your legs. “I’m sorry things are like this. You’re the one suffering.”

You carded your hands through his hair before pulling off his glasses. You moved to kiss him, but gasped as he bucked his clothed hard-on against your centre. You caught your breath, in love with that grin on his face, “You promised to make it up to me.”

“Oh,” he ghosted his lips over yours, “I’m about to.”

For sat back on his calves as he pulled your dress over your head, tossing it onto the floor. His eyes raked over you. Your panties were still missing, probably hidden in some desk drawer in the basement. He unclasped your bra expertly before tossing it away too.

You subconsciously licked your lips when he picked up your right leg. He pressed a kiss to your ankle, traveling up to your knee before picking up your left. He repeated himself there. You watched in awe. Your mind was already clouded. You wanted him to stop playing this game and to get shift a on when he started kissing and nipping at your wrists. His smile against your skin was loving and full of admiration. You just wanted him inside you.

“Ford,” you muttered as he started kissing across your clavicle, “They won’t be gone all night. We have an hour or two max.”

He withdrew his tongue from your navel, “[Y/N], I rarely get fifteen minutes with you.” He tongued your bellybutton again, hands spreading your thighs further. He kneaded that softness just below your ass, “Let me worship you. You deserve this.”

Finally, he touched you. His lips, chapped as they were, wrapped around your clit. He placed a kiss to it before circling with his tongue. The noise you made in response was undoubtedly undignified, a mix of a moan and whine.

Reflexively, you covered your mouth, but Ford was quick to take your wrist in his hand, “None of that. You don’t need to do that now.” He sucked you into his mouth as he inserted a finger. Your hips bucked against his chin when he curled it inside of you, “Let me hear you, please.”

His finger straightened as he withdrew, pushing in a second with a curl of his knuckles. He sighed when he finally heard you, a relaxed moan tumbling out of you as he repeated the movement again, his tongue flicking across your clit again.

“Atta girl,” he smiled against you.

You watched him as he continued. His nose was pressed firmly against your pelvis as his tongue continued its assault. His fingers pumped quickly. He watched your writhe, moans freely spilling past your lips. You chanted his name as you felt your muscles tighten, legs flexing.

You needed to grab onto something when you began to shake, hips rolling frantically against his mouth and hands. A wet squelch sounded with each thrust of his wrist. Finally, you found something to hold onto. Your nails scraped against your headboard. You couldn’t hold his gaze any longer as your orgasm hit you.

“Stanford!” You chanted over and over again as your rode his face. Your eyes closed because you couldn’t look into his anymore. His eyes were always too much when his face was between your thighs, “Oh my god! Ford!”

He continued to eat you through it until you finally came down, legs closing to halt his attempt at overstimulation. Now was not the time for games.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand when you reached for him, “You’re even more beautiful when you’re screaming my name.”

“That’s enough chitchat,” you whispered. You were already unzipping his pants, “Fuck me.”

His boots, jacket, turtleneck, and slacks were on the floor in an instant. You stared at him for a moment. The two of you had rarely ever had the time for him to get fully undressed. Often, you had only ever pulled his cock out of its confines just to get things going, pressed for time.

Suddenly, your order for him to fuck you was abandoned as you pushed him onto the mattress. Climbing atop him, you traced a deep scar across his shoulder with your fingertips. Your touch was gentle while you studied him, all of him.

His chest was broad and so were his shoulders. The muscles of his upper body were well defined. The slight pudge of his stomach was endearing. You smiled down at him, leaning over to place a kiss to his forehead, “You’re beautiful, Stanford. Do you know that?”

His right hand cupped your face as he pulled you into him. You melded together for a moment before he pulled away, “I am so in love with you.”

You bit your lip as you straightened your back, hips rising. You pressed the head of his cock against you warmth. You suck down onto him and the moan he gave was precious. You tried to memorize it before he gave you another with each roll of your hips, moving in tight up and down circles.

You were lost in him, eyes locked as you rode him. With each roll of your hips, you two groaned in tandem. With each upward thrust into you, you both sighed the other’s name. Not a single praise was stifled by a hand for fear of someone hearing. For once, it was just the two of you.

“You’re so tight,” Ford gasped when he felt the familiar flutter of your insides. One hand gripped your hip and the other rested on your lower belly. He wanted to feel how deep he was hitting you, watching the slight bulge of him inside you wasn’t enough, “Mhmm, such a good girl.”

Your body began to shake again, shivering as your relentless pace faltered. You were frozen as you began to milk him, unable to move as the intensity of waiting for this all day was just too much, so he took over. With his feet planted firmly against your mattress, he thrust up into you. With each bounce, you repeated how much you love him until your screamed his name again.

He rode you out. Just as he was about to flip you over, allowing him the ability to pull out, you stopped him, “No, please, cum inside of me. I want to feel it. Please, Ford, please.”

With your breathless words and the clenching of your cunt, he came. The soft pressure was heaven as he fucked you through his own orgasm, “Fuck!”

The room was hot and sticky when you collapsed onto his chest. Every muscle relaxed. Your body was numb, buzzing with the endorphin flowing through your veins. The two of you stayed that way for a while until he pulled out of you. You both gave a sigh, your cheeks blushing when you felt your own release and his gush out of you.

Now, you were laid in his arms. His hands played with the little hairs at the base of your skull. You could hear his heartbeat in his chest. Time had stopped moving, “I love you so much, Ford.”

Loud clatter coming from the other side of the house startled you both. Jumping from the bed, Ford scrambled to put his clothes back on and you did the same. You could hear the twins running down the hall.

When your door opened, you froze, “What the hell is going on?”

Ford barely had time to zip up his pants, his sweater still discarded on the floor, before Stan threw a punch. You’re screamed at him to stop as soon as your dress is back over your head. You tried to put yourself between them, but Ford pushed you away, afraid you’d get caught in the crossfire of punches.

“She’s like a daughter to me, you creep!” Stan shouted as Ford dodged another punch. Stan was quickly pinned to the ground by his twin brother, “I told you to stay away from her! You ruined my life. You’re not going to ruin hers too.”

Suddenly you realized what was happening. Your face fell and so did your voice, “Stanford, let him go.”

Ford glanced in your direction before doing as you said. You stood between them to keep them from hitting each other again, “Stan, what are you talking about?”

His ego was bruised. You knew this. So did Ford, “You’re my family and I’m not going to let this jerk take you away from me too.”

You hugged him tight. You didn’t have a dad growing up. Like Soos, yours was never around. Stan had taken that role when you started working at the Shack, always guiding you in the best way he could to be better than him. He wanted the world for you. When your mom died and you had no where else to go, he took you in out of the kindness of his heart.

“I love Ford. I’m sorry we kept this from you, but,” you took Ford’s hand in yours, “I love him.”

Stan’s eyebrows furrowed as he stared at you and his brother, “Do you love her, sixer?”

“More than anyone could possibly comprehend,” Ford murmured as he placed a kiss against your temple.

Stan was dumbfounded as he stared at the two of you. He couldn’t decide whether or not to be happy that you found love or to kill his twin.

[pedge-page]

Crash

Sequel to Cravings

Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Summary: Frankie is reeling from the night you two had sex and can no longer differentiate between his addictions.

Notes: Great y’all, now he's got feelings . Hope you're proud. Anyway, thank you all for the overwhelmingly positive feedback from Cravings: alas, here’s part 2! There will be a part 3 finale following after this (because it was getting too long and I like making you all suffer). Thank you all again for the love and reading so far!

Warnings: Oral (m and f receiving), F and M masturbation, dry humping, drunk reader, slight dub con drunk sexual activities, references to sex, mentions of drug usage,  language, Frankie is kinda mean in this one :( , poor communication King and Queen

18+ONLY

- - - -

Frankie feels like a stranger who's overstayed his welcome in his own home. When he knew you were deep asleep, he crawled out of bed and sat on the couch for what felt like a simultaneous eternity and quantum leap of time, wrestling in his mind over what just happened.

He knows you'll be waking up soon, and the thought of seeing you now makes him feel so anxious. In direct contract to how he's felt seeing you every morning since you moved in. How much of last night stuck with you? You were tipsy, but not as fucked up drunk as he was. Did he come on to you too strong? Misread your signs? Did he force it on you? Would you regret it?

And even if you wanted it, was it just all for him? Was this just another "helping Frankie get over his coke problem"?

He can't just go back to seeing you as a substitute for his "problems". His hands shook at his side, leg bouncing. You were slowly transitioning from being the solution to his problems to becoming the reason for his new problems. He's never been afraid about how to act around you before, and that even includes trying to touch and kiss you in front of some guy you were flirting with at the bar.

God, what a shitty friend he is. You should have had the chance to go home with that guy, not have to deal with your coke addicted friend so he hog your cunt all night for himself.

Then again, why would you want to go home with that fucker anyway? Like he would know your body as intimately as Frankie does. As if he could even come close to bringing to the edge black out pleasure and back over and over all night. Catfish doesn’t pride himself on much except two things: flying a chopper under any condition, and making you cream on his tongue.

He feels even more guilty as his cock hardens in his pants, the memories of your sweet moans and perfection flood his mind. How he'd wanted it for so long and was so sure he was dreaming. But he could never mistaken: the hot tenderness of your sweaty skin, hair sprawled over his pillow, your nails sifting through his curls and scratching along his shoulders, the way your legs shook around his head, the taste of your over flowing juices needing him more than before, the sounds like honey pouring from your lips, the insatiably tight, wet grip of your pussy swallowing around him like a perfect fit, and the way you wrapped yourself around him like you never wanted to let go.

He wants you. Again. And again, and again. So much that he doesn’t think he can trust himself around you anymore.

-

You wake to a cold bed. It takes you a moment to orient yourself, recognizing the room is not your own.

You sigh relief when you hear Frankie shuffling in the kitchen, the smell of burning toast filling the air. You quickly run to the bathroom to freshen up, wiping your messy eyes. And surprised to find the once mess between your legs from last night had already been cleaned, probably while you had slept.

You can't help but feel like a shitty friend, hogging his bed, having him clean up after you when he was the drunk one who needed caring to.

You bounce into the living space, announcing your presence with an exaggerated yawn.

You rub his broad shoulders over his shirt, feeling him tense at your sudden touch. Slowly, your hands snakes down the chiseled lines of his back, wrapping around his waist. You felt his strong forearms flex the spatula in his hand.

He turned to you, his eyes warm but clearly sleep deprived. His breath is short when looking at you, eyes dilated. He can't stop your hands drifting south and feeling the clear tent in his pants that has been there all morning. He closes his eyes and groans as you palm his erect cock.

"Why didn't you wake me?" You asked, turning off the stove as you stare up at him.

Frankie swallows the lump in his throat. He brushes your hands off his crotch and holds them in his. “I’m okay. Besides, you needed your rest." He leans down to kiss your cheek, lacking his usual affection despite the gesture before coldly turning back to his cooking.

You pull away and sit down at the table, just a moment before he's plating your breakfast.

Frankie cooked you breakfast?

He brushes your hair out of your eyes before leading himself down the hall and into his room without another word.

Sheets, pillow cases, clothes, all of it gets balled up and tossed in the wash. He glances at you down the ball, your feet dangling over the island stool as you catch up on your news feed.

You couldn’t be any more oblivious to how much his heart is shattering—just from doing absolutely nothing.

-

He's annoyed at how well you carry about your business from then on. So much so that he's trying so hard avoiding using you as much. Yes he WANTS to fuck you again, wants to ravish your cunt every waking minute of the day like before, and then fuck you until you're pleading him to stop, tell you how good you look taking him, and how you were clearly made for him. But how much of it did you want for yourself?

After the first night, he’s been doing everything in his power avoiding sex with you because it’s dangerous. Because he can't control what happens next. Can't keep it platonic, and pretend he’s ok with it just staying sex. He almost lost it and confessed everything the first time—and what would happen when you didn't want that from him? If you didn't feel the same?

You'd leave him.

So of course you make it that much harder for him to resist you everyday since.

Did you realize how sexy you looked wearing nothing but panties, bending over your bed with the fan on after a shower to cool off? you left your door open, casually waving to him, breasts smushed between your chest and the soft blanket on your bed. Did you know he swells with pride when can he still see the obvious markings of his fingerprints bruised on to your hips, your thighs, your stomach, after spending so much time holding your shaking body against his mouth? The way your nipples pierce through his t-shirts that you manage to dig out of his closet, and how they do nothing but aide the memory of you underneath him, begging for him to use you?

Every time he sees you, he gets hard. And he immediately tries to ignore you, walks away, goes to do anything other than giving in to the desire of pushing you down, spreading your legs and taking his frustration out on the one who's causing it all now.

He can tell you're starting to catch on. You notice his curt attitude, the way his eyes avoid you when you’re in the same space.

You two were sitting on the couch watching tv as always, but he was uninterested, leaning back against the sofa with his eyes closed almost in annoyance. You had interpreted it as a sign of him holding back his urges. Sliding down the couch, you glide your hand across his chest, starting to undo your buttoned night gown. when he opened his eyes and saw the first sliver of your breasts opening for him he stood abruptly, throwing you off. He only mumbles 'goodnight' and headed straight to his door.

It's been a few days since the last time he ate you out, last time he really cared to touch you. And you should be glad, really. He's getting so much better. Clearly craving you less. That was the whole fucking point of all this.

But FUCK if you aren't needy as of lates. You can feel the hot flush of embarrassment as you drag yourself to your room. Wet and bothered and for the first time in months, left unsatisfied to your own devices without Frankie's tender and a bit selfish care. You don't remember the last you needed to masturbate, let alone wanted to.

It shouldn't be embarrassing. And yet as you dip your fingers down your panties and through your slick folds, you feel wrong. Empty. Like something isn't there thats supposed to be. The idea that you're so used to him getting you off whether you asked for it or not that you're now incapable of doing it yourself is—troubling.

You huff in frustration and try your best to work yourself to a minimal slickness, remembering all the times Frankie has brought you over the edge again and again. But thinking about him only makes you slightly perturbed by the fact that he's right down the hall and could be doing this himself, if he only needed you as badly like he used to.

You don't notice your friend is right outside your closed door, ear pressed against the wood as he listens to your hushed sighs. His cock is hard in his hand, pumping it with long strokes to your beautiful yet strained moans. He wants to be buried between your legs. Wants his tongue to lap at your folds, fingers craned deep in that tight hot wet heat thats been calling his name all night. Make you flinch away when the stimulation becomes too much, because he knows you'll still take it like his good girl until he decides to stop. He knows all the right places to push, nothing secret between the two of you. In fact, in the amount of time thats passed with your fumbling attempts to get off and his pulsing dick in his hand, he could have made you cum twice now.

His body has been on overdrive trying not to take you again. Trying to be respectful for a change. Everything hurts, even his cock, which no matter how much he tugs on it, it's nowhere near close to giving him that sweet release. He's feral, nails digging in his thighs with the need to feel you against him again. Needs to just fuck, let it out, and then he can deal with his brain, his guilt, afterwards.

And when he hears you softly moan his name, he can't stop himself from barging down your door, wild eyed, dick slapping against his abdomen as he crawled over top of you and captured your lips.

Stop, stop stop, he's telling himself. But with the way you're wrappings your arms around his shoulders, deepening the kiss, delicate hands cupping his aching cock, all his needs he's been denying for days have overtaken his movements. 

You're so bad for him. An unavoidable addiction.

Worse than candy, worse than coffee, worse than cocaine.

He flips you on your stomach, his hand engulfing the entirety of your lower back, pinning you there as his elbows spread your knees. He lies between your thighs, ass up in front of his face, and spreads your soaked folds, enamored with your clit twitching for him. Your little hiccup goes quiet when he presses his face into your mound, nose dragging along the line as his jaw works you open, fingers pulling your cheeks apart so he can suffocate himself properly.

His fingers dig into your waist, and he's rocking your body back and forth, dragging so deliciously against the sheets below you. His tongue is plunging in and out of your hole, and you realize he's fucking you on his tongue. You hum in relief, rocking with his movements, earning you stinging slaps on your ass cheeks. He kisses them better before biting your folds and gorging himself on your slit again, his appetite voracious after denying himself of your sweetness all week.

He ignores that bubble of guilt wedged deep in his stomach as he let's instinct bring him the relief he desperately needed, your squelching cunt and satisfied sighs tampering his cravings for you once again.

He watches you shake with your orgasm, encouraging him to keep taking. You babble: "Thats it, baby" "so hungry today aren’t you?" "Use it the way you like" and he closed his eyes, wishing he could block out the clear direction of how you saw this transaction. You were never this vocal before, but now when he's tossing and turning all night with his thoughts about wanting you, here you are telling him plainly. Almost as if you're reminding him the truth, discrediting his hopes for a different outcome.

He sits upright and slaps his cock between your ass cheeks, grinding down on you so you're still pressed flat on your bed. God, he wants to do it again. Spread your folds and split you in half with his fat cock. Make you weep and pass out, and then fuck you again. "Gorgeous fucking ass, mi hermosa. So pretty under me," He grunts as he slicks his member up with your arousal, just barely holding on the last bit of sanity he has by refusing to enter you. You whine in protest, but he has both hands on your lower spine, crushing your hips into the mattress as he uses your ass. "So good spoilin' me. Always there for me." He grits his teeth, rutting his cock against you, occasionally sliding back down to your folds to lather himself up. "Fuck, fuck, FUCK!" He growls as he spills his cum over your lower back, breath catching in his throat.

The guilt creeps back in to his clear mind, and he's angry at himself again.

He can't stop himself.

"Frankie, why didnt—“

Before you could finish, he was storming out your door and slamming it behind him.

-

He used to be so loving. Used to worship your body, warm praises about how perfect you are for him. Sometimes he'd take his time, and other times he'd be fast, but still always with warm hands, attentive to your reactions, even when he was so fucked out of his mind needing you.

But now he's rougher. More sporadic than before, even as he decreases the number of times he's engaged with you. Silent now, too. fewer loving praises, less warmth behind his touch or his eyes, and in fact, spends more time having you in positions where he doesn't have to look at your eyes. He leaves you cold afterwards every time.

He's been acting like it a lot more lately: ignores you all week, being uncharacteristically polite when you corner him but managing to ditch whenever possible. And then he caves all at once, crashing in on you and takingtakingtaking, before going back to ignoring you. It should be a good thing: that he needed you less. That his cravings were subsiding more and more that he could actually go a while before needing a hit. It really should have been like this from the start: Cold. Transactional. Indifferent.

So why did you feel so awful now?

The only reason you haven't lost all hope is that very occasionally, that sappy, wet puppy dog of a mess shows his warm side again. You were showering when you heard him slip the curtain open behind you and step in, his arm immediately wrapping around your stomach, loving kisses adorning your shoulder, neck, and up to your ear. You sigh, relaxing in to his touches. He just held you there and kissed your body. He didn't even try to touch you, although you knew you were growing a different wetness between your legs. He didn't let you touch his obvious erection either. Just peppered you in kisses, dragging his lips over your stomach, combing through your hair, up to your elbow then down in the palm of your hand. There was no rush behind hid actions. No urgency. All gentle.

All Frankie.

YOUR Frankie.

But incidentally as he brought his eyes to yours, his chest seized with coldness again, and he's suddenly leaving you and the now cold shower without a word.

You didn't know how to make it better anymore.

He was so agitated again recently, and you could tell he didn't get any sleep again. You suggested he take the day off, the two of you could spend it "however he wanted", slyly offering yourself to him to take the edge off. But when he ignored you and went to watch the football game, two beer bottles dangling between his fingers, you rolled your eyes.

So fed up with his change in attitude, you spent an hour getting ready in your room, walking down the hall in heels, your tightest shortest shorts, and a low hanging crop. It had been a month since you and Frankie first fucked: combined with his recent behavior, stress with work, and lack of action, you needed a night out, needed to get wasted. Needed to stop being the baby sitter.

You needed sex.

"Where the hell are you going?"

"Out."

You grabbed your keys and left.

You hadn’t even closed your car door before opening your phone and texting Frankie that you were going out with Santi to help alleviate any worries he might have of the company you're keeping. Pope’s just as close a friend as Frankie is: he shouldn't have any problems about the fact that you’re in good hands tonight and just need some time to drink and be out.

Away from Frankie Morales just for the night.

-

It’s like you’re perfectly doing everything wrong to him.

She's out with Santi. Fucking Pope. The same Santi who told Frankie years ago you're smoking hot, and he wouldn't hesitate to jump on you if you let him. His best friend, the one who knows him better than himself, and yet here he is making a move on his girl—

But you aren’t his.

In fairness, he has been a total ass. He keeps trying to curb his desires, punch away his uncontrollable feeling about you, only caving all at once on you like a bullet train. Then the emotional brick wall of regret builds immediately after release, desperate to shut out his overwhelming feelings and the rough actions he’s taken against you. It keeps repeating. 

He vainly hopes he'll actually stop wanting someone who doesn't want him any more.

He curses himself for only having enough alcohol to get slightly tipsy. It's been a week since the two of you did anything sexual, a month since "the incident" so it's a good thing you're out.

It doesn't make him feel better.

To his annoyance, his phone buzzes next to him as Santi's contact pops up. He puts it on speaker, can hear loud giggles and music outside, barely registering his friend saying you're completely wasted and need to be taken home. He doesn't even send a reply, already throwing his jacket and cap on and walking out the front door.

-

"FISHY!"

You're leaning over Santi outside the bar when you spot Frankie walking towards you two. Your mascara smeared across your eyes like you had been wiping them all night. You're mumbling incoherently, throwing your head back in a fit of laughter. Pope is barely holding you up right, sheepishly smiling to keep your morale up.

"Hey man. I’m sorry, She lost her keys and I walked here. Otherwise I would have..."

"It's fine. Gimme her," Frankie said curtly. How Santi would ever let you drink this badly, he'd have to berate him later.

"M' Pinocchio!" You gasped as Frankie slung one of your arms over his neck and hoisted you up on one of his shoulders.

Why? Full of lies? he wonders.

“I’m gonna be swallowed by a great big FISH." You hiccuped, cackling upside down with a nice view of your besties tight ass. Frankie readjusts your body like a sack of potatoes on his shoulder and stands up, holding your thighs securely. If Santi wasn't here, he'd smack your ass to get you to shut up.

Frankie nods once at Santi and goes to turn around.

"Hey Fish? Take—take care of her. Please."

No shit.

Frankie is pushing open the apartment door as you're mumbling "fishy fishy fishy—hic!— squishy fishy."

He drops you down carefully on your bed. "Get undressed."

You giggle even more, seductively biting your lips as you pull yourself up to his body, hands roaming his abs and down to his hips. "You first."

He stared down at you, your lust ridden eyes meeting his, as you're pulling your shirt off so you're only in a push up bra. He tried avoid staring at your supple tits, the faint bite marks and bruises from his past ministrations almost completely faded by now. A fresh canvas practically begging to be marked up again...

He shakes his head. "We're not doing this. You're getting in your pj's and going to bed," he said, scolding you like a brat.

"Ppfftttttt." You ignore him, lifting his shirt and kissing his belly button, tracing down his happy trail and pausing at his belt. "At least someone here misses me."

He hasn't even noticed how hard he was in his jeans until you were rubbing your cheek against his clothed bulge, doe eyes staring up at him. He hears the soft pop of his pant's button undone, zipper slowly being dragged down by your teeth.

"When was the last time I blew you, Fishy? Let me relax you. I know you've needed this..."

His jaw clenched as he avoided your eyes.

“Know you want me,” you purred.

 Those fucking words again. If you KNEW how much more he actually wanted from you...

"He's positively aching, Fish. Shouldn't ignore a big man in need."

He doesn't stop you when you pull his cock out of his pants, having foregone the underwear in a rush to get you. He closes his eyes when your pretty nails wrap around his thick length, lips ghosting over his tip as you press an innocent kiss to his slit.

You hadn't blown him in a long while, and not often enough as you would have liked. you don't normally take charge, but he's been so distant lately that you can't help but use the alcohol in your system as a newfound confidence to forcibly get him to unwind. Your cunt throbs with need, forgetting just how indescribably big he is until felt him swelling in your mouth. It's sinister how well his dick reacts to your tongue, like you had been practicing as often on him as he had intimately gotten to know your pussy.

Your lips suction his tip into your mouth, causing him groan. His stomach flexes above your forehead. He's resisting again. Your tongue swirls around the tip as you lightly bob your head, swallowing an inch more and pulling out with a pop, teasing him slowly. You needed to get him worked up so he could let go, relax for once.

Maybe not be so cold to you for a while...

He feels your hands gently grasp his own that were down by his side, guiding them up to the back of your hair. You squeeze them in permission before returning your hands to wrap around the length of his cock that didn't fit down your throat.

You experimentally swallow around his shaft, eliciting a soft "fuck" from his breath. He collects your hair in a makeshift pony tail in his hand so that he had a full view of your face, submissively staring up at him as you gulp more of his cock into your inviting mouth.

You feel him twitch against the roof of your mouth, the veins in his v-line in front of you throbbing. Other than holding your hair up, he continues to let you set the pace. His eyes are fixed on you, head slightly titled to the side, entranced by your spell, his tongue just hovering between his teeth.

You push your face a little further, nose brushing against his public hairs, the first jolt of your esophagus resisting the intrusion. y|You hold yourself there, holding your breath for a moment before sucking him again. He's breathing deeply with long, staggered huffs.

You tilt your head back up, eyelashes fluttering as he watches his shaft rest on your outstretched tongue, slowly tracing the veins on the underside of him.

He fists your hair a little tighter, struggling not to grab your face and fuck your throat raw until you choked.

You swallow around him once before letting his dick fall from your mouth with a slick plop.

You stand up, eyes challenging his dominance despite the height difference as you drag him to sit on the bed, and while his eyes are emotionless, body stiff, he doesn't try to stop you. He rests against the headboard as you crawl over his lap. You waste no time to kiss him.

He’s not accepting your tongue, just letting you work over him. What the fuck is his problem? it's never taken him this long to give in. You can tell he WANTS to kiss you back, his jaw clenching so hard he could shatter his teeth. It's never stopped him before.

Truthfully, what you didn't know was that he was tired of you today; from trusting Santi over him for fuck knows what reasons, then having you come home drunk out of your mind, trying to tempt him with more emotionless sex. It's putting him off of your antics mentally. He wanted you, but not like this. He couldn't handle the aftermath of giving in to you again, but not having you.

Sexually, his mind was losing the war over his body's needs.

If it wasn't coke, it was you. And if it wasn't you...

It can only be you.

And Jesus, just when he thought he had a grip on being able to block you out for good tonight, you somehow managed to be an irresistable siren:

"'M so wet for you," you slurred seductively against his lips.

He can't hide the growl rumbling lowly in his chest. His lips part to let out a breath he had been holding and you take the chance to engulf his mouth with the hot kiss you'd been dying to get all week. His lips quickly mold to yours as you whimper pathetically, his hands sliding down to grip your ass in his warm, rough hands. You prop yourself higher on him, cupping his face in your hands, forehead nudging his Standard Oil cap off. You can feel his hot breath panting quickly against your cheek, his resolve crumbling.

He's right there. He's so close to relaxing. Just a little push...

You pull away, his lips almost chasing after yours. "C'mon big boy, wasn't it soooo good?" You playfully bite his ear. "You've got suck a nice cock here," you whisper, fisting his dick once again with the remnants of your spit, pumping his shaft easily. "Shame if it wasn't pounding me tonight...C'mon. Let's do it again."

He finally brings his eyes directly to yours. Your pupils were blown wide, crowded with evident lust. But it was what he could see beyond your eyes that told him exactly what he feared all along:

Nothing.

He doesn't stop the words from tumbling out of his month. "Why? so you can just use me for sex?" he said matter-of-factly, his face relaxing into a mix of coldness and spite.

You stop giggling and pull away, eyes widening with the most seriousness, and hurt, he'd ever seen on you. "And how is that any different than how you've treated me for the past year?"

His jaw is slack with panick, immediately wishing he could take back what he just said. No I—shit, I didn't mean —I didn't mean it like that—“

You get off of him with a hostile sense of urgency, ignoring his hands trying to caress your elbows, to keep you on him. You dig in your back pocket and then you're throwing something hard at his chest. "No, you know what? Fuck you, Frankie." You storm off to your bedroom and lock it.

He covers his face with both hands and leans back against the sofa. Looking down at his lap after a minute, he sees the pair of keys you've had to his apartment for the past year.

What he'd give to be high right now and to forget everything.

-

You spend the entire night packing. He's right at your door first in the morning when you open it, his stomach churning with pain at the image of your eyes bloodshot from exhaustion, hangover, and tears.

You brush past him before he can even apologize, settling your belongings on the kitchen counter. As you toss your scattered items in to your tote, he watches you, fingers twirling in on themselves with anxiety.

Now, now, do it now! he's screaming in his mind.

“I—“

You interrupt him, and it's only now that he sees you're not shaking in anger—you're trembling in tears: "I'm s-sorry that I snapped at you last night. I wasn’t— in the right head. I c-came on to you. You had your reasons for doing what we've done, and last night I was just genuinely u-using you for no other reason other than self interest and I'm s-so sorry." You swallow and take a deep breath before continuing: "I gave up a lot coming here, trying to help you, letting you use me to get better. But I can't do it anymore. I wanted to help you, but then when we had sex, I didn't know if things would change, I didn’t want things to change, and when I woke up, you weren't there, and then you treated me so coldly afterwards. I don't know what I did wrong.” Your voice cracks, sniffling away the running of your nose. “And it felt awful. I just wanted to go back to the way things were. But you s-seem like you hate me now, and I—“ you pause, rubbing your eyes on your sleeve, suddenly changing tone in a polite manner, like you were address a principle and ignoring your previous breakdown. "I'm very happy you're clearly doing a lot better and don't need me anymore. Sorry, I don’t—I don't mean to cry like this.”

Frankie is frozen.

You're crying. You're crying in front of him, which wasn't a first; you've cried to him about stupid boys before. But what IS a first is that you're crying for the first time over the stupid boy right in front of you. You're crying, Because. Of. Him.

Just tell her tell her tellhertellhertellherNOW 

But as he opens his month, his words get caught in his throat, like swallowing a lump of coal and puking a ball of fire all at once. His chest aches unlike anything he'd experience before. All he can say is "I... understand."

Nononononoyoudumbfuckwhatareyoudoing!

You nod and sniffle, clearing your throat. "I'd like to just go back to being friends. Before all of this. I'll still support you, I swear. I want you to still feel like you come to me for anything else. But I need some time. To get myself in check." You calmly collect your things and make for to the door.

"Wait!" he goes to grab your arm but his hand freezes up, like touching you would give you painful blisters. You pause and look over to him as he stands a bit closer. “I—I think you should keep this." He puts your key in your hand. "In case. Something happens."

Your lip quivers with empathy, eyes softening for him. "Please. I don't... I don't want to think about..." I don't want to think about seeing you lying face down OD'd on the carpet.

"Just. Hold on to it. Just in case. I'm asking as your friend. We're still that at least. Right?" The words feel like hot iron in his mouth, a heaviness in his heart desperately trying to convince himself more than you.

He wants to hug you. but if he did, he wouldn't let you leave. The warmth of his hand draws away from you after depositing the key in your palm.

You nod, rub his shoulder affectionately yet with clear distance, and leave.

He stands there like a statue in the hall, unable to comprehend just how much quieter and colder the apartment is now than it has been in months.

- - - -

Tagging people who either requested a part two or directly requested to be tagged. At least what i can remember (sorry if I missed you!)

Part 3: Insatiable

Series masterlist

Taglist: @paleidiot @pedropascalsbbg @tonakings @nerdieforpedro @thewritermj @ahintofkiwistrawberry @perfectly-imperfect-me23 @sammy-4103 @survivingandenduring @millercontracting @emilyjustemily

[partycatty]

I don’t know if you’re open to requests but me and my friend have this hc and I would like to see your rendition of it. The reader is stressed about their Algebra test coming up and since Johnny has a PhD in quantum mechanics and deals with that stuff, he offers to help. And as the reader is thinking on the problem Johnny gives them, they put the pencil in their mouth seductively but are unaware of it and Johnny gets a little… riled up. And you can take it from there :)

Love ya !! 🥰💜

ough i love me a big smart man

johnny cage > teach you a lesson

notes: my last fic took all of my mental strength for smut for now so it's only gonna be implied

[ masterlist ]

• damn you and your stubbornness, you're here trying to get your engineering degree and the class you put off all these years finally creeps up on you... and you hate math. thankfully, your best friend has a phd (which still baffles you when you think about it too much; not that he's stupid, more that it's so out of left field for him that you thought he was joking when he first told you).

• knocking on his door, he answers so quickly you wonder if he tumbled down the stairs to answer you in record time. he was always ready to do anything you asked of him, so you knew he was the right person to go to

• you explain the situation, about how you're teetering on the edge of just tearing your textbooks apart with your teeth before he slows you down with his hands on your shoulders.

• johnny ushers you in, welcoming you to his dining room after sweeping the various accumulation of stuff littering every surface to a degree.

• johnny's smarter than you gave him credit for, focusing on his well-articulated lecture but you find yourself missing the middle portion of his lessons when his veiny arms are exposed as he rolls up his shirt. his hands were so defined, so strong...

• "are you even listening?" he groans dramatically, waving said head in front of your face. "you wanna pass this class or not?"

• you swallow thickly, though the subject is still shamefully fuzzy in your mind. nodding slowly, johnny pinches the bridge of his nose before resuming.

• "maybe this'll be easier if we..." he leans over your seated form, towering over you as he flips your notes to a blank page over your shoulder. "here." he writes an example equation, a relatively easy one so he could break it down for you.

• shaking the dirty thoughts, you try to pick the equation apart, separating what you know is in the correct order of operations, but you're stumped when the denominators don't add up like they should.

• the tip of your pencil brushes against your bottom lip as your brows knit in thought. it swiped across the width of your lip, pushing in ever so slightly against your teeth as you desperately try to find a way past the confusion.

• johnny falls eerily silent, fists clenching as he breathing feels hot and heavy down your neck. he rubs his face, circling the table with a long sigh. the noise draws your attention, completely oblivious to how tight his pants were from the display.

• "sorry," you sheepishly look down at the paper. "this is... a lot."

• "no... no! you're fine!" johnny snaps himself back to reality at your puppy eyed expression, like his desperation for you was somehow your fault when it was really his for not knowing how to keep things in control.

• you feel smaller as you sink into the chair, trying to retrace your steps through the numbers. instinctively, the pencil finds its way to your mouth again and you gently suck on the shortened eraser, your tongue pressing against the head of it as the multiplication takes its time in your mind.

• johnny chokes on air, punching his chest to hide his flustered face. he can't even look at you or you might notice the steam from his ears.... why were you here again?

• "you're not helping," you remind him teasingly, and he jogs to your side with a cool breath to regulate his temperature. "did i do this right?"

• johnny leans down, his chin almost on your shoulder as he inspects your work. the error stands out to him at lightning speed and he pulls at your wrist, abruptly tugging the pencil from your mouth and slamming it against the table.

• "there," he huffs out, circling the error with his finger. "five over nine. not nine over five." his eyes flick between the back of your head and the pencil, and the way the eraser shines. he might pass out if he thinks too hard about it.

• he should've picked an easier equation so you'd stop thinking so damn hard about this, he thinks. the pencil wanders back between your lips and it's when you bite down on the pink tip his flat palm slaps the table, making everything rattle. you jump and look up with a shocked expression.

• "can you... not." he breathes, cheeks red and brows furrowed.

• "not... what?" you look down, maybe you had a bad habit in the math process?

• "don't do that." he's being vague, it's getting on your nerves.

• "you're gonna have to be clearer."

• "keep that thing away from your mouth," johnny points at your fingers twirling the pencil, an accusatory finger firm like he caught it committing a crime.

• "the pencil?" you're caught off guard, wondering what his issue is.

• "yes, the damn pencil!" he groans, running a hand down his face. "can't think straight for a single second when you're... you know."

• it clicks in your head, what he's asking of you. it flusters you but also fills you with an egotistical desire. you always had a lingering crush on your best friend, but you never wanted to act on it out of fear of losing the best thing that ever happened to you. johnny's deep, dark voice makes your core stir as you think about the possibilities, how to test the waters from here.

• you slowly place it flat against your tongue, trying to ignore the taste as you relish in the way johnny twitches his eye at the sight. he wants to look away but you're forcing him to, that knowing glint fatal for his heart. the thought of your tongue holding the heavy weight of his thumb, or worse, his dick, is driving him up the wall.

• johnny stomps beside you, grabbing your wrist and pulling the pencil away, managing to throw it out of your grasp and capturing your lips with his own as the pencil rolls off on its own adventure.

• his kiss is consuming, far too much for your mind as you grow dizzy at the loss of breath. his hands pull at your face and neck, trying to squish your face against his as he swallows every whimper and gasp for breath you expel.

• just as he pulls away to get oxygen, his thumb slides between your lips and presses against your tongue, your hot and heavy breath driving him wild.

• "are you really trying to do this to me?" he asks as your lips wrap around his finger, sucking gently. his eyes flutter shut and he groans, nodding downward with his head.

• "maybe," you quietly reply through his finger, sinking to your knees in front of him, sliding your hands up his outer thighs. you're perfectly in line with his crotch, but your eyes are too busy admiring the flustered actor above you as he looks down his nose. he pulls his thumb away, groaning at the thin trail of saliva that falls down your lip from the loss.

• "i'll teach you a lesson," he reaches for his belt buckle, the clinking of metal dulling every sense but your hearing.

• you can study later... probably.

[iliketangerines]

Ok but the idea of Johnny having a thing for a waitress/server but being too nervous to do anything about it directly except come in all the time and make up excuses to talk sounds so adorable

excuses excuses

a/n: ohh, this was a cute one

pairing: johnny cage x gn!reader

warnings: none :)

Johnny bounces his leg underneath the table, waiting for you to come out from the back and come and take his order

he shouldn’t be nervous, no way, he was Johnny Cage, he was getting his PhD in quantum physics and was a master at fighting

and he was scheduled to film for some indie film as the romantic interest, no way he should be nervous right now to talk to a waiter at some small local restaurant

and yet, here he was, fingers twitching impatiently and leg bouncing rapidly, nervous as the day he saw you several months ago

he always asks for your section, and sometimes he gets his timing wrong or you veer off your normal schedule, and he has to eat when the waiter isn’t you

but that was fine, especially when he saw how your face lit up when he gave you a big tip

he was a broke college student but that was fine if he got to see you smile because of him

Johnny fiddles with his fingers and straightens his back as he sees you approaching his table, tying the apron behind your back as you walk straight towards him

you pull out your notepad and greet him with a wide smile, calling him by name and asking if he wants his usual order

he gives you a dopey smile and asks actually if you can give him a recommendation for something you really like on the menu

you tuck your hair behind your ear as you bend over and look at the menu before him, eyes flitting between the different options

he wishes he could tuck your ear behind your ear for you, to ask you on dates and treat you to the best places, hold your hand, kiss you, dance with you

your finger underlines something on the menu, and you say that’s your favorite

Johnny immediately places the order, and you jot it down and ask if he needs anything else

he wants to make a move, to ask you out, to take you on a date, to let im pick you up in his shitty car on an adventure, but he chickens out and says no he doesn’t need anything else

you walk away, going off to the next table, and Johnny deflates in his seat, mentally scolding himself for not taking the chance and growing a pair

he goes over the plan in his head one more time to ask you out, he’ll just do it when he’s paying the bill

you bring over the food, warn him that it’s hot, before you go off and service another table, and Johnny unwraps the utensils folded neatly in the napkins and digs into the food

you have great taste in food as well, and Johnny has to struggle to not shovel the food into his mouth to try and seem somewhat gentlemanly in front of you

every time you come around, Johnny straightens his back, fixes his posture, wipes his mouth, and he can’t tell whether or not you’re glancing at him and smiling

finally, he calls for the check, unable to finish the rest of his food, and you kindly bring over a leftover box and a paper bag to hold the meal

he hands you over a wad of cash, enough to pay for the meal and still have a hefty tip, and you smile at him and blush slightly and leave with a small wave goodbye

packing away his meal, Johnny curses at himself for not being bolder, for not asking you out on a date, for not doing anything except be another customer in your day

he brings the meal home and digs the box out of the bag to put it in the fridge

his fingers crumple up something inside of the box, and he frowns, not remembering whether or not he had put something else in there or not

pulling out a napkin he definitely didn’t put in there, he flips it over and nearly has a heart attack when he sees a number on there with your name signed on the bottom

he nearly drops the food on the ground in a rush to get his phone out of his pocket and type in your number

leaving his food on the counter, he types and deletes messages, unsure of what to send and furrows his brows as his fingers fumble and become sticky with sweat

after what feels like an eternity, he decides on a simple but straightforward text, just saying it was him and when you were free this weekend, that he’d love to take you out on a date

he tosses his phone to the side, too nervous to see if you’ll text back, and he goes and puts his food away and takes a shower, trying to wash away the nerves

making his way back to his phone, he stares at it for a few seconds before finally picking it up and unlocking it, nearly having another heart attack when he sees you’ve responded back so quickly

you tell him when you’re free and your address with a small smiley face, telling him to surprise you, and Johnny immediately hops over to his dying laptop to look up date places

he was not missing this chance with you

[gureumz]

coffee and mathematical physics

rating: explicit

member: jake

notes: fem!reader, university au, student council vp jake x student council secretary reader, a very speedy friends to lovers, clothed sex, spitting, shy jake 180-ing to dom!jake, unprotected sex

a/n: i really wanted to write something nasty for jake (tho i can get nastier than this wink wink) after hearing him ramble about quantum entanglement bc hello nerdy boys are so hot ugh so anyways enjoy!

the words in front of you are starting to blur and the only other thought in your mind is that you need coffee at the soonest time possible.

end-of-year reports were always a pain in the ass, especially for the student council secretary, which, by your luck, is you.

"sunoo, can we get someone to buy us coffee?" you ask, shuffling through the papers in your hands.

"we can ask jake. he's on his way," sunoo points out, taking a seat beside you. he types away furiously on his laptop, the click-clack of the keyboard grating against your ears.

"great," you grumble. "text him."

sunoo makes a sound akin to being offended. "the last time i checked, i was vice president for internal affairs, a rank higher than you."

you turn to sunoo, scowling. he's smiling, obviously having not taken your command to heart.

"okay, okay, i'll text him," sunoo soothes, patting you on the back.

you feel a heaviness in your head as you try your hardest to remember the order the documents have to be in.

annex a, then annex b, then annex c-1, annex c-2...wait, was there an annex b-2? what's that supposed to contain? officer info? council info?

your internal tirade against the university bureaucracy is interrupted when sunoo gasps, giggling right after.

"how sweet, jake's already bought coffee even before i told him to."

"classic jake," you supply, a hint of a smile on your lips.

jake, as the vice president for external affairs, was expected to be the outgoing and agreeable one. true to his job description, jake always made an effort to make sure everyone in the council's mental health was accounted for. he knew when jay was about to bust a vein (and how to prevent it from happening altogether), he can tell when sunoo's getting overwhelmed with university grievances, and jake always somehow knew when you needed a cup of coffee.

always. without fail. just as you were thinking about it, jake would offer you a trip to starbucks.

"he does this whole coffee thing for you, you know," sunoo points out, nudging you with his arm.

"he does not," you argue, slamming the clear book cover shut. you push the papers away from you, your temples throbbing and your eyes aching from the strain.

"he does," sunoo insists, closing his laptop as well. "he told me once how he'd never bought coffee for someone so many times until you started working together."

"i never told him to do that," you mumble, your cheeks heating in embarrassment. "i don't tell him to pay, either, but he does about half the time."

"he's so down bad for you," sunoo giggles, getting up. he packs away his laptop, rummaging around his bag.

"are you leaving already?" you question, disappointed, as you thought you'd have another set of eyes and hands to help you with the report.

sunoo nods, pouting apologetically. "i promised ni-ki we'd eat dinner together."

you make a face. "he's so down bad for you," you repeat, imitating sunoo's high-pitched teasing.

he laughs, swatting at your shoulder.

before any of you can get another word in, the door to the council room opens. in walks jake, a paper bag in hand, and his oh-so-dazzling smile plastered on his face.

"someone asked for coffee?" jake says, eyes meeting yours. you can't help but smile back at him, having known for quite some time that jake's smile was just that contagious.

"we did!" sunoo replies cheerily, skipping over to jake. the latter hands him a cup.

"the usual," jake informs. "mint choco frappe, albeit disgusting, is a must for our mint choco lover."

sunoo punches jake lightly on the arm.

"and for our hardworking secretary," jake begins, walking over to you at the table. "an iced caramel macchiato."

you accept the drink, thanking jake as you do so.

"so caring," you comment, giving him your sweetest smile. "my dream guy, indeed."

"and that's my cue to leave," sunoo declares, walking over to the door, his bag in hand.

"let me know if you need any help, ______! i'll get back to you as soon as i can," sunoo calls out as he pulls the door open, exiting swiftly, but not before shooting you a knowing glance over his shoulder.

jake, most likely oblivious to the exchange of looks, takes a seat beside you, rifling through the papers you had just organized moments ago.

"these all look in order," jake observes, tongue sticking out from the corner of his lips. you stare, albeit unintentionally, cursing inwardly at how attractive this little habit of his is.

not that you'd admit that jake was attractive, not out loud, at least. sure, he was extremely good-looking, with sharp eyes and an equally sharp nose, and lips that are to die for, not to mention that personality that toed the line between warm golden boy and reckless frat boy. you don't even want to get started on how he gets around girls, especially the pretty ones and—

"what else is missing?" jake asks, turning to you. you blink rapidly, trying to regain some coherent thoughts in your head, but the only thing you can focus on at the moment is how good jake smells.

"uh...," you begin lamely. jake grins, raising his eyebrows as he moves his face closer to yours, the same way you would when encouraging a child to tell you about their day.

"evaluation forms," you conclude, fidgeting with the hem of your skirt. "the evaluation forms from last year's events."

jake nods, turning away momentarily. he pulls his laptop out before powering it up.

"jungwon should have that covered, right? he's the one who audited and liquidated them, after all," jake wonders out loud as he types. your eyes drift down to his hands and an internal monologue threatens to fire up inside you once more.

"yeah," you reply, willing yourself to stare at his laptop screen instead. "i think he just hasn't come around to printing them, yet."

"but they should be in the drive," you add.

jake hums, focused on the task at hand. in the meantime, you busy yourself with your coffee, taking a long sip, and immediately feeling your headache ease up.

"thanks again for the coffee," you say, lightly bumping your shoulder against jake's.

jake turns to you, smiling. you stare at each other for a few seconds as you take another sip. after a while, jake chuckles.

"what?" you ask, fingers swiping at your cheek. "did i get something on my face?"

jake transitions to a full giggle before shaking his head. "no. it's just cute that you're drinking out of a cup with my name on it."

you cock your head to the side before turning the cup around. sure enough, jake's name is scribbled on the side. nothing unusual, seeing as he was the one that ordered your drink.

"okay...?"

"nothing, it's nothing," jake says with a shake of his head.

"no, tell me," you insist, pulling on jake's wrist. he giggles some more, turning away from you in an attempt to hide his face.

"jakeeee," you whine, tugging on his arm. he meets your gaze, and it's only then you notice just how close he's gotten.

"okay, don't get weirded out, but like, imagine if i posted a story of you drinking from that cup," jake explains, gesturing to the drink in your hand. you nod, your curiosity building.

"and it has my name on full display. and you're drinking from it. the cup, with my name on it," jake continues, eyebrows raised once more as he gesticulates broadly with his hands, as if trying to get an obvious point across.

"and? is that supposed to mean anything?" you question, crossing your arms in front of you.

"i guess? i mean—well, i don't know!" jake stammers, collapsing into another fit of his adorable giggles. you laugh along, genuinely lost at what he's trying to get at.

"what, is it supposed to come off as like some romantic gesture that you bought coffee for me?" you ask, not expecting any particular answer, but jake's face blanks out at your words, his mouth opening and closing as if trying to find the right words.

"i mean, yeah," jake says timidly.

"but, you buy coffee for everyone on the council," you point out.

"because i didn't want to seem so obvious," jake admits, scratching at the back of his neck. you stare at him for a moment, unsure of where this is going.

"obvious? obvious about what?"

jake sighs, wiping his hands on his pants. "that i was trying to impress you with the coffee."

your eyes widen almost comically at this admission. jake was trying to impress you?

"you didn't have to do all that," you protest, suddenly guilty at how oblivious you've been. in your defense, you didn't want to read into it too much, if at all, for that matter.

"but, we're having this conversation now, so i guess it worked," jake says with a shrug. silence washes over the two of you as you try to think of what to say next.

"sorry," jake mumbles, clearly embarrassed.

"what? no! it's cute. you're cute," you blurt out and jake catches onto the last sentence, eyebrows almost shooting off his forehead.

"no, for real," you continue in a rush. "it's very sweet of you, jake."

jake grins, unable to hide the blush blossoming on his neck and ears. you feel your own face warm up.

"right," jake replies, clearing his throat. "it's nothing, really, i mean, i was gonna ask you out eventually, but—well, i wasn't really sure when, it's just—"

jake cuts himself off, covering his face with both his hands.

"god, sorry, what do i even say to that?" jake complains, laughing, obviously too embarrassed to speak.

you laugh, reaching over to pull his hands off his face. he looks at you with wide, puppy-dog eyes and you're convinced you've never seen anything as adorable as jake in this moment.

"relax," you say as you take jake's hands in yours. you set your coffee cup down. "tell you what, let's just put that conversation away for now."

you pull your chair closer to jake's, your knees knocking against his. you thread your fingers between his own, turning your full attention to him.

"tell me about your day instead," you suggest, laying your other hand on your clasped ones. jake seems to visibly relax at this, squeezing your hand.

"okay," jake begins hesitantly. "well, i had one class today, which was mathematical physics."

you nod, encouraging him to go on.

"i don't wanna bore you with the specifics, so...," jake warns, seemingly unsure of whether to continue or not.

"you could never bore me," you reply, smiling. jake's whole face turns red this time and he can't help the peals of laughter that erupt from his lips.

"you can't say stuff like that," jake says with a pout. "you just can't!"

you grin, amused at jake's flustered state. "okay, okay, i won't. please, tell me about mathematical physics."

jake clears his throat again, cheeks still a shade of pink. "right, so it's a class that i really enjoy because, if you didn't know already, i love math and physics, so this is like their genius lovechild or something."

you nod, leaning closer to jake. if he notices, he doesn't say anything.

"it's mostly just theory since it bases on the mathematical foundation of theoretical physics," jake pauses. "duh jake, theoretical physics, so, of course, it's mostly theory."

you snicker at his little side commentary.

"so yeah, we had a lecture today, and not going into specifics again since you probably wouldn't understand much of it anyway, we touched on statistical mechanics."

you nod along, and as much as you hate to admit it, you've tuned out most of what jake's saying, too focused on the way his face lights up and shifts as he explains. he still uses his hands as he goes along, even the one that's holding yours.

it's cute.

you don't realize that he's stopped talking until he suddenly laughs, getting closer to your face.

"you're not listening, are you?" jake challenges, grinning mischievously.

you stutter for a few seconds, mentally kicking yourself because you're the one who convinced him to talk about his day and you're not going to listen to him in the end?

it's your turn to be embarrassed as he lets go of your hand in favor of resting his arm on your chair behind you, circling it around your shoulders.

"sorry," you murmur, a sudden warmth spreading over you. "i don't really care about physics. i just wanna hear you talk about it."

jake smiles. "oh?"

"yeah," you nod, shifting closer to him. you swing your legs over to rest on his lap, meaning it to be a wholesome gesture, just something to bring you physically closer to him.

jake doesn't seem as flustered now because he catches your legs, tucking his forearm behind your knees before pulling you completely off your chair and onto his thighs. his other arm supports your waist now, leaving you seated sideways on his lap.

your skirt has flipped outward and you were now sitting your bare ass on jake.

"you're such a nerd," you comment with a laugh, circling your arms around jake's neck. his eyes flick up and down between your eyes and lips.

you get the message.

"a hot nerd, i hope?" jake asks, tilting his head to the side.

"the hottest," you confirm before leaning in to press your lips to his.

jake groans, fingers curling into the material of your blouse as he pulls you even closer. you part your lips, his other hand delicately tucking strands of hair behind your ear. he grips one side of your face right after, angling his own head in order to kiss you even deeper.

your own hands find purchase in his perfectly gelled hair, the soft strands gliding in between your fingers. something about jake walking out of this room with messed up hair because of you sends a jolt of excitement through your body.

"sit on me, baby," jake requests, pulling away. he's panting, eyes dark as he looks at you with want.

"i already am," you say with a hint of confusion.

"you know what i mean," jake says, voice gruff as his hands grab your waist, maneuvering you around. you hurriedly slide off his lap, but only for a second.

you straddle jake, your thin lace underwear and his cotton sweatpants the only barriers between your heated core and his hard-on.

you swivel your hips forward experimentally and the friction has you moaning. jake throws his head back, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

you continue your movements at a steady pace, the only sounds coming from both of your labored breathing. it should be embarrassing how you're like a couple of horny teenagers just humping each other at school of all places, but neither of you has the capacity to care at the moment.

jake reaches under your skirt from behind, palms smoothing over your ass before he grabs at your cheeks, controlling your movements.

"fuck yeah," he curses under his breath, looking up at you through his long lashes. you reach down, undoing jake's button-up, all the way down to the last button, exposing his toned chest and abs.

"get off" jake whispers. "bend over the desk."

you inhale, practically scrambling off jake's lap. you do as you're told, pressing your upper body against the table, documents and all, exposing your ass to jake.

he flips your skirt over, dragging your panties down until they fall at your ankles. you step out of them, kicking them off to the side. you squeal when you feel jake's fingers running up and down between your folds, coating himself with your wetness.

"who knew a few cups of coffee over the course of a semester would lead to this," jake says, slipping a finger in. you bite your lip, trying to conceal the sounds that threaten to escape your lips.

jake adds another. "spread wide open for me."

jake slowly drags his fingers in and out of you and you have to clamp a hand down on your mouth. you clench around the thick digits, the pad of jake's thumb ghosting over your puckered rim. he teases it ever-so-slightly and you can't stop the whimper that leaves you.

jake covers the lower half of your face with his large hand. "sshh," jake coos in your ear as he leans down. "don't want anyone to discover the student council vice president and secretary getting it on in the council room now, do we?"

you shake your head, grabbing at jake's wrist. you mumble against his palm, but it comes out a garbled mess of words. he seems to take pity on you because he removes his hand momentarily to let you speak.

"please," you try to say as quietly as you can, despite jake's fingers shoved deep inside you. "fuck me, please."

you turn to look at jake and it's like all traces of the previous jake are gone. his face is serious but a dark glint is in his eyes, and you somehow know you're about to get fucked within an inch of your life.

jake forces your head down on the table, your cheek smushing against the smooth plastic. jake removes his fingers from inside you, leaving you clenching around nothing. you hear a wet pop and you immediately know he's helping himself to your arousal.

"delicious, babe," jake comments, leaning down to plant a kiss on your temple.

"if anything gets too much, our safe word is 'coffee'," jake reminds, kissing you again, this time on the cheek that isn't being pressed against the desk.

jake lets go of you for a second, but you don't dare move, both afraid and exhilarated at the idea of what might happen if you do. you hear rustling from behind you and you know jake has pulled his pants down.

you turn to take a peek and what you see has your mouth watering.

jake is of a highly commendable size. you'd say around 6 inches from where you're looking and girthy.

jake catches you staring and he snickers, giving his cock a few pumps.

"like what you see, sweetheart?" jake asks, thumbing at the precum spilling from his tip.

"yeah," you breathe out. "can't wait to have it inside me."

jake chuckles lowly. "no need to wait, baby."

jake rubs the length of your core once, twice, before pushing right in. a sound between a groan and a sigh escapes you, the feeling of fullness hitting you head-on.

"fuck," jake curses. "fuck yes."

jake starts to move, pulling out almost all the way before plunging back in. he goes in so deep, it. has your head spinning. you lay there, splayed out against the work you were poring over merely half an hour ago, wondering if the office would accept cumstained documents.

"up," jake commands. it takes you a second but you manage to hold yourself up with trembling arms, the desk's mechanical creaking loud inside the room.

jake takes hold of your neck his other arm wrapping around your waist. he pulls you flush against him, thrusting up shallowly into your dripping pussy.

"good girl," jake croons in your ear. he tightens his fingers around your airway. "you're my good girl, right?"

you let out a sound, unable to find proper words to confirm that, yes, you're his good girl and you'd do anything he asks of you, whatever it is he wants, you'd gladly do it.

your meek whimpers turn into a whine of protest when you feel jake pull out. he leans over, shoving papers and other things to the very edge of the desk. some papers flutter off the table completely but both of you fail to notice.

"lie down," jake instructs, pushing you towards the desk. you turn around, hoisting yourself up on the desk before laying down as jake had said.

jake enters you again, resuming his previous pace. pressure builds up inside of you, your eyes rolling into the back of your head with every brush of jake's cock against that one spot within.

"open," jake's voice cuts through the haze in your mind. you blink at him, unsure of what he's asking you to do. he makes a sound of impatience, grabbing your jaw.

"open your mouth," jake says, leaning over. you part your lips and jake aligns his face above yours. he gathers spit between his lips and before you can register what he's doing, he lets the liquid fall right into your awaiting mouth.

"swallow," jake orders, forcing your mouth shut. you oblige, your whole body flushing at the filth he's making you do.

jake speeds up his movements, seemingly satisfied. you gasp, grabbing onto jake's arm. he's holding onto your hips as if you were nothing, his grip on you so tight, like he might fling you around with no problem at all. he's fucking you like a man starved and you're loving every second of it.

"g-gonna cum," you whimper, fingers clumsily rubbing at your clit in an attempt to bring you closer to your orgasm.

"yeah?" jake responds. "gonna cum all over my cock, hm?"

you nod frantically, back arching off the table as you feel it approach.

"come on baby, cum all over this cock," jake eggs on. "so fucking hot, baby, cumming from this cock alone."

you cry out, a wave of pleasure crashing into you. your mouth hangs wide open, breathing labored as euphoria grips you from every side.

you hear jake groan from above you and you watch as your orgasm is fading away, jake pulling out and pumping his cock furiously. he finishes all over your exposed cunt, some of his cum staining your skirt.

yours and jake's breathing comes out loud, both of you spent from the harsh fucking you just did.

"fuck," jake mutters, rubbing his softening dick all over your swollen pussy. "that's hot."

you laugh breathlessly, propping yourself up on your elbows. jake looks at you, immediately bursting into laughter.

"well, damn," jake says, pulling back to survey the scene in front of him.

"that's one pretty picture if i've ever seen one," jake concludes, giving you a thumbs up.

you roll your eyes, peeking down to assess the mess you both made.

"shut up and help me clean up," you tease good-naturedly, sliding off the desk. jake smiles, leaning in to peck your lips.

"of course, my ever-so-hardworking secretary."

[puppyboywinger]

btw just wanna get this out here rq——

i do not think shayne & court announcing their marriage justifies in anyway all of the weird shipping they endured and stalker-ish behavior from people prior. i’m still coming to my own conclusions and opinions on how i feel about shipping the cast because of this situation but right now i will say this:

i don’t take it very seriously and neither should you. they are real people, not fictional characters. please remember that. if you are actively dissecting everything cast members do, shipping cast members that are openly in relationships, and disrespecting their boundaries you are weird and gross and please DNI!!! i only now “ship” shourtney that the marriage has been announced and i don’t ship any other real people. i don’t think that’s my place.

all my love, wuantum <3

[moonbeamastrology]

Dream Messages

Hello everyone, it’s been a hot minute since i posted a pick a card but uhhhhhh here u go lol. this pick a card is all about the messages your dreams have been trying to tell you. Center yourself, take a few deep breaths and chose the buggy image that calls to you. Take what resonates and leave the rest. I hope that this pick a card serves you well <3 love u

Pile 1- Caterpillar 

Dream Oracle: Dog, Baby, Falling, Elevator 

Tarot: 6 of cups, 7 of swords, 8 of swords, 9 of swords, 10 of pentacles, Temperance

(The dream oracle cards could have some themes that have been showing up in your dreams lately so check for some extra confirmation <3)

Hey pile 1 <3. You’re going through a period of growth right now (whether you resonate with ascensions, elevations, level ups, glow ups, etc) we have an ascending tarot number order ending with temperance. You may be super in your head and overthinking a lot right now or dealing with a lot of regret over the past or anxiety for a new experience (job, class, relationship, or creative project) but your dreams are trying to show you that everything is working out in a very aligned way for your best interest (*incredibly* stable, harmonious, and abundant). You’re being asked to follow your instincts during this new period and that it may not be exactly what you had envisioned or hoped for but it will be just as good or even better so be open to what the universe is trying to deliver to you. Everything will work out possibly even overnight (I’m seeing this build up of anxiety like “omg this is all going to blow up and explode” and then the situation is resolved in like the chillest manner ever). You’re undergoing *a lot* of healing while you sleep (possibly past life healing as well or having dreams of past lives) if you’ve been waking up exhausted or waking up multiple times during the night this is why (maybe check the time you wake up for some it could be a really opportune manifesting time). If there’s healing work you have been avoiding then your dreams are showing you what needs to be healed. I don’t get the feeling that it’s anything major, it’s something smaller that you’re just not really processing (character development/plot?? lol). Avoiding the work could cause a bigger problem in the long run. Your dreams have been reflecting your own reality so if you’ve been having stressful dreams, take a look at what the stressors are and how they could relate to your current experiences. Also so many cards came out so some of you could be feeling really overwhelmed at this time, make sure to delegate and to ask for help where you need it. At this time your dreams are trying to show you that you need to connect with what’s really important to you. Follow your instincts/intuition, do what you need to do but stay focused. I love you!!! <3

These mantras/affirmations come from the dream oracle deck, utilize them if you feel called to.

Dog: I pat myself on the back for expressing my instincts for love and loyalty. 

Baby: With complete trust I allow the universe to midwife me into this new chapter of my life.

Falling: I am grounded in the bedrock of the here and now, rooted to the heart of unconditional love.

Elevator: I am moving up in the world, and I grow and glow from glory to greater glory.

Pile 2- Moth

Dream Oracle: Bridge, Dance, Chase

Tarot: 7 of cups, The Hanged Man R, 4 of pentacles 

(The dream oracle cards could have some themes that have been showing up in your dreams lately so check for some extra confirmation <3)

Heyyyyy pile 2 are you guys into reality shifting or quantum leaping? If not, maybe there’s something you’re trying to manifest right now. Bridging that gap between where you are and where you want to be (what you want is already aligned). Maybe you’re literally dreaming of your dream life. You could also be experiencing some choice paralysis or you have a lot that you want to manifest in this life. Your dreams are telling you which manifestation is the most important to you right now. If there’s no indication then sit with yourself and really listen to what your heart and soul are calling you to. I feel that your dreams are trying to show you that you have subconscious blockage that’s preventing the manifestation. Or they’re showing you that you’re holding onto something that maybe you consciously don’t realize that you are. Subconscious programming/subliminals while you sleep would be really beneficial to you at this time (if you already listen to them then this is confirmation that it’s working). Drink more water. Change your perspective on how you can achieve your goals, maybe try something new (like spoiling yourself). I feel the key would be to really tap into your sensuality and luxury (big Taurus energy). Sacral chakra healing. Look into masturbation manifestation. Treat yourself how your dream self would treat you. Find out what self care really means to you. I do feel like you’re taking steps to achieve your goals so be proud of yourself for that. You are really powerful at this time, there’s just some illusion/blockage that needs to shatter before what you want manifests. Your energy felt really good pile 2 and your manifestations feel so close. Keep up the good work! I love you!!!! <3

These mantras/affirmations come from the dream oracle deck, utilize them if you feel called to.

Bridge: With my heart wide open, I realize that I am the energetic bridge that connects me from where I am to where I want to be.

Dance: Life is my dance partner, and I let it lead each step, each groove, and each move I make.

Chase: I can run but I can’t hide from my power.

Pile 3- Grasshopper

Dream Oracle: Ceremony, Elevator, Fire

Tarot: 2 of pentacles, The Devil R, The Lovers S

(The dream oracle cards could have some themes that have been showing up in your dreams lately so check for some extra confirmation <3)

Hey pile 3 I’m seeing that you guys are going through a major ascension/upgrade/level up right now. You could be going through a flame initiation or a kundalini awakening (iykyk). It feels like you have rediscovered your fire/passion recently. This fire is one of your greatest untapped gifts for real, use it wisely and intentionally because I feel it could burn people in your life if it’s not expressed. You could have just become aware of this potential and Spirit is congratulating you on that. You have come a really long way, healed, and taken accountability, it shows in your energy levels. Getting clear on what you want. There’s lots of good to come soon. You’ve released a bad habit/addiction/relationship/karmic (Spirit applauds you). If you haven’t released this yet then your dreams are showing you what it is and telling you to let go. Some situation is giving you a headache. I feel there are some distractions around and that’s what your dreams are showing you (most likely a person, unfortunately). “Glitter” by Tyler, The Creator except not all that glitters is gold. You have a really beautiful passion and fire within you, take care of it. I feel like telling you that Spirit is really really proud of you for this. I know this reading was really short but you just achieved something really awesome so I feel like some pressure has just been released so give yourself a little grace at this time. Pile 1 is also going through a level up but their energy was much more overwhelmed and worried but maybe there’s a message for you there as well. I love you!! I’m so proud of you!!! <3

These mantras/affirmations come from the dream oracle deck, utilize them if you feel called to.

Ceremony: I honor the changes through which I am going, growing, and glowing!

Elevator: I am moving up in the world, and I grow and glow from glory to greater glory.

Fire: I marvel at the miracle of alchemy as I transform and awaken to the full radiance of my destiny.

[qveerthe0ry]

The D-Files

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

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

The first time for them. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

So he keeps it up. 

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

Dieter remembers that fanfiction exists shortly after that. 

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

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

Just look at him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

“I’m sorry Scully—”

“Don’t.”

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

“You almost got us killed!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Scully—”

“Get on your knees.”

——

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

Or Scully’s strap. 

Perfect.

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

“Do you think I should post my fanfiction?”

His therapist’s perfectly shaped eyebrows perk up. 

“Do you think you should post it?”

“I dunno. Probably not.”

“Why not?”

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

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

“Do you want to post it?” She asks. 

He huffs. 

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

She shrugs and nods at him to continue.

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

“Would that bother you?”

“Well yeah, duh.”

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

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

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

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

His therapist smiles. 

Shit. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s the longest four minutes of his life. 

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

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

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

CRACK

—

Everything hurts. Like, bad.

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

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

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

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

Shit. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

A tiny little yappy Pomeranian, tan and fluffy. 

It hits him all at once. 

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

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

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

QUEEQUEG

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

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

“How are you real? What’s happening?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Scully?”

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

“You know this guy, Scully?”

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

“No, I don’t. What’s your name?”

Dieter clears his throat. 

“You don’t recognize me?”

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

“Should I?”

“Wait… what year is it?”

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

“It’s 1995. Are you concussed?”

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

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

Dieter nods. 

“Do you know where you are?”

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

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

Mulder just chuckles. 

“How do you know our names?” He asks.

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

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

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

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

Dieter smirks. 

“That’s such a Scully thing to say.”

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

“Oh my god.”

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

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

She just scoffs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mulder—”

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

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

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

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

Dieter winces. 

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

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

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

“Dieter. Dieter Bravo.”

Mulder huffs. 

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

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Fox?”

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

“Alright. Where do you live, Dieter?”

He winces and scratches the back of his neck.

“Los Angeles.”

“Oh brother,” Scully grumbles. 

“How did you get here then?”

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

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

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

Dieter straightens up and salutes him.

“Yes, sir, Agent Mulder.”

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How do you know Skinner?”

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

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

“What’s the show called?”

“The X-Files.”

Scully snorts. 

“How creative.”

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

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

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

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

Dieter huffs and Mulder shrugs. 

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

“When did you become the skeptic, Mulder?” 

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

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

“Hey, what the hell, Scully?”

“No, I said he was just—”

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

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

“You wound me, Scully.”

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

“You’re kind of a bully, y’know?”

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

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

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

Dieter nods. 

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

“Do we die before then?”

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

“Hmm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

“Goodnight Scully.”

Dieter sighs and sits back down. 

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

“Welcome to the club.”

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

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

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

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

“Queequeg?”

“He’s here, can you watch him?”

Dieter nods.

“Me? Yeah, yes ma’am, Agent Scully.”

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

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

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

“Did you catch the alligator?”

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

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

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

They both nod slowly. 

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

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

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

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

“Mulder’s not colorblind,” Scully says. 

“Uhh… Actually, yeah. I am.”

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

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

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

Mulder shrugs. Then his brow quirks up.

“Why does that matter?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Does it get the good channels?”

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

“You know about that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s up?” Dieter asks. 

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

“You’re telling the truth.”

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

“What happens to us?”

Dieter clears his throat.

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

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

“You end up together.”

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

Mulder starts at the touch, but lets it happen. 

“When?”

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

He grumbles. 

“My opinion, too.”

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

“And how do you know that?”

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

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

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

Mulder nods. 

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

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

Dieter squeezes his hand. 

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

He hums. 

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

Dieter shakes his head. 

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

“Oh?”

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

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

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

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

“Dieter…”

“Mulder.”

“We’re doing this, then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For me, too,” Dieter mumbles. 

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

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

“Fuck,” he breathes.

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

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

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

“Feels good,” Mulder whispers. 

“Yeah?”

“Mmm.”

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

“You think about Scully doing this?” 

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

“How often?”

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

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

“In the office?”

Mulder whimpers and nods his head. 

“On the job, in the field?”

“God yes.”

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

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

Dieter smirks. He completely sympathizes.

“You like it when she debunks you?”

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

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

“Why?”

Mulder moans. 

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

Dieter chuckles. 

“Aww, does she complete you, Foxy?” 

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

“Tell me what you think about, Mulder.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you wanna taste her?” 

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

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

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

“You do?” 

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

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

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

“Boys.”

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

“Is it true, Mulder?”

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

“Yeah, Scully. I—” 

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

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

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

“Mulder, c’mere.”

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

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

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

“What did he tell you, Mulder?” 

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

“You’re not in trouble.”

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

Mulder sighs, though. 

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

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

“Why now, then?”

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

“Just worked up the guts, I guess.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What did I walk in on, Dieter?”

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

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

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

“And you went along with this plan?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Get on your knees, Mulder.”

“I am on my knees.”

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

“You too, time bandit.”

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

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

“Keep your eyes forward, both of you.”

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

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

“Strip.”

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

He notices Mulder still motionless beside him. 

“Scully…”

Idiot, Dieter thinks. 

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

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

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

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

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

“You want to taste me, Mulder?”

“Fuck yes, Scully, please.”

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

“Go on, then.”

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

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

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

“Dieter, honey, you can watch.”

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

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

“You taste so good.”

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

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

“Feels good, just like that.”

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

“Don’t be selfish, Mulder.”

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

“Give him a taste.”

“Oh fuck, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You want more?” 

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

“Please, Scully,” Mulder mumbles. 

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

“Yes, please, Agent Scully.”

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

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

“Think you can share?”

Dieter curses. Mulder whimpers against her thigh.

“Play nice, boys.”

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

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

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

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

“Yes ma’am.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You like that, Scully?”

“Oh my god, Mulder.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, Mulder,” she sighs.

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

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

“Come up here, Mulder.”

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

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

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

“Scully…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes ma’am, Agent Scully.”

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

“I’ll be good for you, Scully.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck me, then.”

“Jesus,” they both say in unison. 

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

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

“You’re sure, Scully?” 

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

“Positive, Mulder.”

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

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

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

“Oh my god,” she whispers. 

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

“Scully,” he whines. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s so good, Scully.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That soft, dopey smile gets an edge to it. 

“Let me, please,” he whispers. 

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

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

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

“You’re too good at that, Mulder.”

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

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

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

“I— what?”

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

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

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

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

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

“For me, Mulder?”

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

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

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

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

“Mulder,” Scully mumbles. 

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

“Yeah, Scully?”

“Make us come. Then you can.”

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

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

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

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

“C’mon, McFly.”

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

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

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

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

“So good, Mulder.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t— I can’t, oh my god.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Only she’s not talking to him. 

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

“Scully,” Mulder whines. 

“Harder, Mulder. Make me come.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Scully giggles. 

“I noticed.”

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

“I’m on the pill.”

Mulder sighs. 

“That’s— that’s good.”

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

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

“You were so good,” she muses. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you,” he whispers. 

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

“Oh my god.”

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

“What the hell?”

Mulder’s voice sounds much more amused. 

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

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

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

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

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

“What do the words say?” Scully asks. 

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

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

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

“When did you get these?”

“1998, right after the movie came out.”

“There’s a movie?”

“Two, actually.”

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

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

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

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

She rolls her eyes. 

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

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

“You coming, Doc Brown?”

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

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

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

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

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

Show us your bobbers

[fairyofshampgyu]

Forces of Attraction

genre: smut, college au

Pairing: physics tutor! taehyun x reader

Warnings: sub! taehyun, dom! reader, blow job, riding, titty and bicep sucking lmfao, taehyun so whiney you can’t convince me otherwise his voice was made to whine

Word count: 1.1k

“I’m literally going to fail physics at this rate. I just don’t get this section at all!” You complain to your friend yoon who pats your back.

“Why don’t you ask for help then?”

“I literally went to my lecturer and told them I did not understand at all, he just said to look at my textbook and past lecture recordings. I even tried to watch videos online but I just don’t get it!” You groan.

“Why don’t you ask kang taehyun?” Yoon gives you a knowing smirk, pointing to the pink haired man sitting down below, headphones in and studying.

Kang taehyun was the smartest guy in your physics class, quiet, intimidating, cute-you found him so attractive. Problem is, you’ve never uttered a single word to him. “No I’m not gonna ask him! He’ll know I’m dumb then!”

“He doesn’t even know you since you never even speak to him. Also why not? I heard he tutors and he’s really good.”

“He does?”

“Yeah. And then you’ll have an excuse to talk to him!”

“Hmm. Maybe I will sometime…”

“Go, go, go!” Yoon pushes you in his direction before you have a chance to speak, attracting his attention as he looks up at you who had just appeared in front of him out of nowhere.

You just stare at him awkwardly for a bit before you decide to speak, scratching the back of your head, “Uh…Hello! I’m y/n. I heard you tutor? Will you be able to tutor me I’m having trouble understanding this particular topic…”

You’ll make sure Yoon pays for this, you can see here giggling to the side, enjoying your pain.

“Sure. Give me your number and we’ll set a date and time.”

∘ ༺ ☆༻ ∘

Taehyun opens the door at your arrival and you try not to let your mouth drop to the ground. He was wearing a tank top and sweat pants, exposing his muscles and he looked so incredibly fine.

“Oh I just came back from the gym.” Taehyun says, seemingly noticing your prolonged stare.

“Oh. Cool.” You clear your throat and try to seem unaffected.

“Okay, so what do you understand about quantum physics? Tell me what you already know. Do you understand Schrödinger’s wave equation?”

“Uhhh…I don’t understand absolutely anything from the topic.”

“So you don’t even get the two slit experiment?”

“Um…”

“It’s okay! we’ll just start from the very start.”

∘ ༺ ☆༻ ∘

“So the right hand side of this equation is known as a linear combination of the vectors r1 and r2. The particular points to take away from this is that combining vectors produces other vectors, analogous to our observation above that combining states produces other states, and that the components a and b are a measure of how much of r1 and r2 respectively go towards making up the vector r. Do you get that?”

You were getting some of it albeit still hurting your brain and after an hour, you just needed a small break. He was pretty good at tutoring. It got hard trying to focus sometimes though when he was so good looking. Also, damn that tank top he was wearing.

“It’s making sense. Could we take a break though?”

“Yeah of course. What do you wanna do intead?”

You look down at his pretty lips, not realising how long you zone out because of them. He seems to notice, suddenly becoming a bit shy, ears turning the shade of his hair. But he tries to ignore it, clearing his throat.

He’d seen you ogle at him a bit more than once this whole session and it made him want to scream and run out, trying to act calm when really he was squirming at your gaze.

Truthfully, he actually knew who you were before you asked him. He’d always see you in class, in the library, around campus laughing with your friends, at parties making out with people on multiple occasions and he had a pretty big crush on you. You were pretty hot. He looks down at your lips too for a second.

“I think…we should make out.” You drawl out, a bit lower.

“I-I-uh-”

it’s the first time you’ve ever heard taehyun’s usually stoic self stammer and look so nervous. You couldn’t help yourself, leaning forwards to cup his cheek and pressing your lips on his. He reciprocates, kissing back with so much eagerness and neediness.

You pull away for a second, string of saliva between the both of you and he whines at the loss of contact, so prettily. You dive back into his mouth, biting and pulling at his bottom lip, causing him to whimper, then attaching your wet lips to his pretty and bare neck, marking them with pinky-purple bruises. He whines again even louder. You love his sounds, wanting to hear more of them.

You move to his sweatpants with his dick that was literally bulging, taking his flushed pink cock out.

“Can I?” You ask and he nods repeatedly. So you move your head down, wrapping him around your wet lips. He squeezes his eyes shut, high pitched whines eliciting from him.

“So cute. Whiney baby.” He only whines out your name in response and you chuckle at him.

“What do you want? Wanna be fucked?”

“Yeah…”

“Say please.”

“Please y/n.” He was so pliant you loved it.

You hover over him, taking his dick into your hands and rubbing it against your folds instead, continuously dragging the head over you but not putting it in and he just whines at you.

You finally take his fat cock, placing it at your entrance and slowly sinking down on it, he balls his hands into little fists against your side, hissing slightly as you start fucking him. You roll and move your hips around against his, riding him at a feverishly fast speed and you can feel his dick twitching inside you.

“Hey! you can’t cum yet. Maybe I should be teaching you instead.” You stop your movements.

“Sorry…”

You begin again, bouncing up and down on him even faster, his body trembling like a leaf beneath you, sweet and high pitched noises frequenting his mouth. You lean, picking up one of his arms, sucking little kisses into his biceps before you move his tank top to the side, sucking on his nipples instead and he whimpers and whines.

“I really need to cum now y/n please-ah!”

“Cum for me then.”

He whines out even louder than you think possible, eyes closed and his mouth opening wide in pleasure, you can feel his hot cum filling you up. He gasps, sweaty, face and chest matching his pretty hair.

“Maybe we should do some work now”

But you’re thinking of maybe another round. Or two. You don’t end up getting much tutoring done in the end but you have plenty of time to make up for it with your cute new tutor. And a lot of something else as well.

PLEASE actually reblog!!!! and comment!!!!!if you like the fic. It’s really appreciated and nice if you do tysm !<3🙏💕😊 It’s discouraging when fics have such little reblogs 👎🤨

[jujutsubaby]

after hours (part 10)

☆ pairing: satoru gojo x afab!reader ☆ summary: studying at the library is sooo fucking stressful. especially when your final is next week. gojo promises to help you study, but you guys get into other shenanigans instead... ☆ tags: modern au, babysitting au, academia au, threesome au ☆ warnings: oral sex (m! receiving and f! receiving), eating it from the back, exhibitionism, choking (on dick) ☆ a/n: HI GUYS SORRY IVE BEEN SOOO MIA work is crazy (it’s beating my ass) and life is so hectic (also beating my ass). i’ve been trying to have a hot girl summer but i assure u i’ve been nonstop thinking of one shots and new plot points for my fics and new ones too so once the seasonal depression kicks in it’s gonna be over for everyone ! ok enjoy :3 sowwee it took so long once again!! 🙏 ☆ wc: 6.7k+ 🖤🤍 series masterlist 🤍🖤

if there was a time in the past when you said the hong kong coffee milk tea you had been drinking did nothing to keep you awake, you sincerely take it back. your brain felt it first, halfway through sipping on the matcha oatmilk latte satoru had brought for you. and then came the uncontrollable leg shaking and the pounding in your head that could only be satiated if you continued to drink from your matcha, although now that wasn’t doing much either. 

you snuck a quick look at satoru, who was initially banally transcribing his notes onto his cheat sheet for the final, now animatedly talking through bell’s theorem to nanami and haibara and you (before you zoned out). haibara was rapid fire questioning satoru’s mini-lecture, talking a mile a minute as he tapped his pencil at an unnatural pace on the desk. you look over at nanami, who’s staring at satoru with a thousand yard, wide eyed stare, and realize you all were caffeinated beyond recovery. 

the pounding in your head got louder and louder, until it drowned out the noises satoru and haibara. water. you need water. your mouth is too dry. you make eye contact with nanami, and as if he read your mind, he wordlessly reaches into his backpack and hands you his blue hydroflask. you take a swig. and then another. and then you’re chugging the entire bottle like your life depends on it (you think it does in a way). 

the pounding in your head fades just as you empty his water bottle. your vice grip on it turns your fingers white and you try to pay attention to what satoru is lecturing about. 

“see, the thing about heisenberg’s uncertainty principle is that the more localized the momentum-space wavefunction is, the more likely the particle is found in those values, which by the way, are just fourier transforms of each other…”

what the fuck? uncertainty principle? fourier transforms? those weren’t on the final last time you checked. you quickly pull out your study guide and try to find any mentions of whatever satoru was talking about. you find bell’s theorem (wasn’t he just talking about that? how did he switch topics so fast, and so randomly for that matter?), but no mentions of heisenberg. you turn back to satoru and realize he’s just talking nonsense quantum facts from the top of his head, regardless if it was even part of the class (perhaps as a result of being too wired from the triple shot latte he’s been sipping on). 

oh, you need to stop this before everyone gets confused. “satoru, wait, is this even on the final?” if he heard you, he doesn’t let you know, as he continues on his monologue without missing a beat, now talking about quantum computing and turing tests. those aren’t even remotely related to the class you guys are studying for! “satoru! stop talking, jesus fuckin’ christ, dude!” you shake his shoulder, jolting him back to reality as he stops talking and looks over at you confused. 

“what? why? did you have a question about what i was saying?”

“yeah, what the fuck? none of that is on the final, what are you even talking about? how do you know, like, all these random physics facts from the top of your head?!” you ask incredulously. 

satoru shrugs and looks at you like you’re the weird one for questioning him. “you don’t?”

“not everyone studied applied physics in undergrad and graduated summa cum laude, gojo-sensei,” haibara quipped, still writing down some notes from satoru’s monologue in his notebook. you quickly swat his hand away from writing down any more. 

“stop writing what he just said haibara! it’s gonna confuse you when you’re actually studying for the final.” you frown, leaning over to move his notebook away from him. 

“what is it do you think we’re doing right now, y/n, if not ‘actually studying for the final’?” nanami says, emphasizing what you had just said. when was the last time he blinked? 

“none of us studying right now because we got too fuckin’ wired from the coffee. where did you guys get this battery acid anyway?” you say, taking another sip from your matcha, against your own will. 

“philz…” satoru says. 

you scoff. “philz?! and you got a triple shot there? how are you alive right now? how are all of you alive right now? why the fuck would you get coffee from philz and not riko’s like usual?!”

“i’m not feeling alive.” haibara chimes. 

“i’ve been having an out of body experience for the last thirty minutes,” nanami informs, too calmly for your liking, if you’re being honest. 

“suguru told me if he saw my face at riko’s today, he would poison me in my sleep.” satoru says, running his hands through his hair in slight frustration. his legs are restless and so are yours. 

“okay, well, it doesn’t matter now because we are never gonna feel normal again. this is our life. anyway, i think we need a break.” everyone nods their heads. “m’gonna go on a walk around the library and fill up your water bottle, nanamin. anyone wanna join?” you get up from your chair and wordlessly, satoru gets up to accompany you. 

as you two exit the study room, the change of scenery allows your eyes to adjust to reality and your brain to think of something other than physics, which unfortunately is the deal you made with satoru before walking into the study room and getting wired beyond repair. you decide that while you’re not opposed to blowing him right now, you’re not bringing it up until he does. you look over your shoulder and see satoru following silently behind you and you lead him to a corner of the library, where the water refill stations and bathrooms were. 

as you’re filling up nanami’s water bottle, satoru breaks the silence. “should we be worried about nanami and his…umm…out of body experience?”

“aww, you care about nanami, don’t you?” you coo, giving satoru a sly smile. 

“if you’re trying to insinuate that i’m in love with him, then you’re right, i am. why else would i secretly stick on post-its with penises on the back of his notebook?”

“you’re the one doing that?!” you turn your head to satoru to shake it disapprovingly and sigh. “he’s been haunted by those wretched things for weeks, satoru! he’s been thinking some girl’s been sexually harassing him!”

you watch him cackle with laughter and shoot him a dirty look. “stop laughing, satoru!” you say, but you’re a hypocrite because you’re also laughing at the situation. “promise me you’ll– shit!” the water overflows from the water bottle as you pour the excess out and seal the cap on. 

“c’mere,” satoru says, leading you somewhere deeper into the library. 

“anyway, i don’t think we need to worry about nanamin,” you say as you turn the corner and enter a narrow aisle. “i think he just needs to drink water and touch grass or talk to someone that isn’t you.”

“yeah, maybe…” satoru says, as he leads you to another random book aisle, clearly no longer paying attention to you. 

“hey, where are we? what are we doing here?” you take a look around at the books around you. greek mythologies? “why are we in the greek–”

your question is cut off by satoru’s lips crashing into yours and his arms pulling you flush against his chest. satoru leans down to your height and tightens his grip on your hips. caught off guard, it takes you a moment to register what was happening before you leaned into the kiss, deepening with opening your mouth and letting his tongue in. the kiss is urgent, hurried, clandestine – stolen in an empty library corridor in the greek mythology section, of all places. aphrodite would be delighted, you think. 

you take great pains to not moan into satoru’s mouth in the quiet of the library, but a stifled sigh sneaks out regardless. you feel satoru’s hands slide down to your ass and squeeze, as you use the hand that’s not holding the hydroflask to run your fingers through his undercut, earning a muffled groan from him. he leans down further and lifts you up slightly so that he can shove his legs between yours and move your hips on them. the friction of your clothed core meeting his knee catches you off guard as you drop the hydroflask. it clatters on the ceramic tiled floor of the library and echoes loudly across the library floor. 

shit. shit. satoru and you immediately break off the kiss the second the sound rings and you quickly scramble to grab it before it starts rolling to where people are within view. “shit, shit, shit!” you whisper frantically as you fumble to get the water bottle. your face is hot and the pounding in your head is back, begging you for more caffeine. your heart feels like it’s about to go into cardiac arrest for the same reason, but the fact that you were secretly kissing your best friend did not help. 

“jesus fuckin’ christ, why are those things so fucking loud,” satoru says, his eyes scanning the neighboring aisles to see if anyone was there. 

“why did you knee my clit?” you challenge back in a hushed whisper as you set the hydroflask down on the floor. 

“well i had this insane idea that you would like it.” satoru mumbles. you have no interest in arguing with him any further, figuring the best way to beat the pounding in your head was to grab satoru’s sweatshirt and pull him closer to you and continue. with both hands free, you’re able to kiss him and grip his hair to deepen the kiss again. 

this time, satoru slowly moves his hands down to your ass and pulls you right against his rock hard bulge of his own arousal. you sigh deeply at the contact, and buck your hips towards his erection, but missing due to the awkward angle. satoru breaks off the kiss in favor of littering your neck with soft butterfly kisses. 

“you know, i do recall someone saying they’d blow me in the library…” satoru says in between kisses. his lips feel the soft vibration of your groan and he chuckles against it. “you don’t have to, by the way, if you don’t want to. i don’t wanna–”

“what if want to?” you ask innocently, flashing your eyes at him coquettishly as you push him back and use the hair tie on your wrist to quickly tie your hair back. you slowly sink to your knees. don’t think about how hard the tiled floors are here and just focus on giving him insane head so he cums fast and you get back on your feet. you feel a bit bad thinking that, because you do really want to give him head, but also you’re a woman in your late 20s suffering from joint pain, which was embarrassing in itself. 

you push your thoughts of your knee pain on the ceramic tiles aside and start to palm his hard erection through his pants. satoru holds back a groan and throws his head back and holds your wrist and moves it to his belt. you undo it effortlessly, and pull down his pants and underwear, unveiling his well endowed erection in front of you. fuck, it’s so huge. 

your hand grips him lightly as you lick a long stripe from the base to the pink tip of his shaft. at the top, you give him a small kiss before your mouth slowly envelopes it, licking it so as to lubricate your mouth for deepthroating him. you slowly go down on him further and further, until you feel him at the back of your throat, before you start bobbing your head back and forth. satoru hisses under his breath as you full take him in and start sucking him off rhythmically. 

you feel his hand reach the back of your head and grip your ponytail, helping you control the pace to his liking. the warmth of your mouth and skillful maneuvers of your tongue are sending satoru faster to the edge than he’d like to admit, and he grits his teeth to keep himself from spilling within minutes of you starting the blowjob he’d been thinking about since you mentioned it. 

“fuuuck, just like that…” satoru hums deeply. the tip of his cock bullies the back of your thorat, causing your mouth to gag and clench on him. “damn, you love this shit don’t you? deepthroating me in the library where anyone can walk in? where anyone can see how much of a desperate slut you are?”

satoru’s dirty words turn you on more than expected, especially knowing anyone could hear him. you feel yourself getting soaked thinking about the potential chance at someone watching you. what if it was toji? wait, what? how did that thought make you even more wet? thankfully, your moans are muffled by your mouth engulfing him. satoru increases his pace, and starts to fuck your face relentlessly, chasing his high. 

just as you were choking on his member, satoru abruptly stilled his movements inside your mouth. your eyes widen, hearing muffled movements nearby and try to remove yourself from his cock, but satoru keeps your head firmly on him via the vice grip on your ponytail, which was slowly coming apart. the muted sounds slowly got quieter and quieter, until they were gone completely, at which point satoru resumed his mouth fucking. 

“i bet if i felt you right now, you’d be dripping,” satoru whispers breathily. you whine against him, knowing he’s right – your panties are completely ruined. satoru swears under his breath, and you feel his thrusts get sloppier as you feel his cock pulsating as he gets closer to his climax. you help him reach it by using a hand to lightly cup his balls, a trick you learned from an ex-boyfriend of yours, which turns out to be successful. 

“f-fuck, gonna cum in your mouth, yeah?” satoru asks, and you moan in response, vibrating against him. you feel hot ropes of cum shoot down your throat. for the second time today, you don’t let a single drop go to waste. you swallow his cum clean, and lick one last stripe across his cock, as you let him go with a lewd pop. 

 you wipe off some spit on the back of your hand as satoru makes himself decent while catching his breath as fast as possible, leaning against the bookshelf to do so. satoru reaches out his hands lazily to help you get up from your knees on the hard floors, which crack while you stand up. he pulls you closer to his chest as he leans on the library bookshelf, and leans forward to kiss your mouth. you kiss him back briefly before pulling away and checking your phone. “shit, we should go, people might notice that we’ve been gone for way too long…”

satoru rolls his eyes as you grab his hand and lead him down the various aisles he took you through, dropping it only when you caught sight of some students nearby. you cross your arms as you think of how you blew two guys in one day which is not only a new feat for you, but also, kind of annoying that you didn’t get anything in return both times, even though you understood why toji couldn’t. 

“somethin’ troubling you, baby girl?” satoru asks, nudging your shoulder.  

“oh, what? no, why would you ask that?”

“because you blew me like a minute ago and you’re completely silent. and your arms are crossed and your eyebrows are doing that thing they do when you’re annoy–”

“oh my god, okay i get it!” you say with exasperation, not wanting to hear him characterize you this accurately. “and yeah, whatever, i guess i’m a little miffed, but it’s not a big deal.”

“did i do something wrong?” you hear a hint of genuine concern in his voice. 

“oh my god, satoru, no, of course not…it’s just…” you feel the heat rise to your cheeks. all of a sudden, you’re feeling shy and meeting satoru’s eyes is a pain so you keep them downcast and cross your arms to your chest even tighter in an effort to self-sooth. 

“if it’s embarrassing then i’m sorry, you have to tell me or else i’m gonna be so fuckin’ annoying about it.”

“you’re already so fuckin’ annoying about everything, first of all. and fine, if you must know…” you find the courage to turn your head up to him. “i blew like two guys today including you and do you know how many times i got the favor returned? zero. ZERO!” you felt petulant voicing your concerns this wantonly. 

just as you expected, a shit eating grin forms on satoru’s face. “well, why didn’t you say so? you know i’d be more than happy to help that disparity for you.” hearing him tease you about eating you out has you more hot and bothered than you’d like to admit. 

“promise?”

“promise. once we get the fuck outta here, my mouth is yours, baby girl.” 

“don’t call me that!” you say, grinning as you both approach the table where you left shoko to study on her own. you are surprised to see utahime sitting next to her whispering something in her ear, and shoko shaking in silent laughter. 

“oh my god, this bitch…” you say under your breath as you stride towards her desk. so rich of her to tell everyone to shut up when utahime is allowed to say all the jokes in the world. utahime notices you first and her face brightens as she gives you an enthusiastic wave, only for her face to immediately sour when she spots satoru right behind you. 

“you can at least pretend you’re excited to see me ‘hime,” teases satoru. 

“do not call me that.” utahime seethes before turning her attention back to shoko and you. 

“what? you can giggle all you want with utahime but not with us?” you tease shoko. 

she rolls her eyes. “i’m on my break, dumbass, look!” she turns on her laptop to show you the 15 minute break timer that has long since elapsed. you look over at utahime and ask her what brings her back to thel library. 

“ugh, literally only because shoko is here. otherwise, i’d never step foot back at this place after graduating.” utahime frowns. you remember how you and shoko attended utahime’s graduation ceremony for education master’s last year, which was mostly you and shoko trying to figure out discreetly if utahime was into girls. 

the four of you hover around the table and speak in whispered voices and muted laughter, slowly losing track of the volume of your voices. eventually, at some point, everyone is speaking in normal talking voices in the quiet library, all while being blissfully unaware of the dirty pointed looks being given to you guys. 

“gojo, what the fuck kinda coffee did you get me, also? me and utahime have been sharing it and we are forreal tweaking off of this,” shoko complains, shaking the empty coffee cup. 

“it was philz.” you answer for satoru. utahime and shoko’s eyes widen in disbelief. 

“are you trying to murder us?! why didn’t you go to riko’s?!” utahime yells, in a higher than normal level voice. 

“i literally cannot have this conversation again,” satoru says, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples. 

your conversation is interrupted by a short stocky man, who you infer to be a library monitor wearing an official looking university sweater vest. “you folks are way too loud. we’ve gotten multiple complaints about the noise levels on this floor. this is your first and last warning, or you all are out.” he says sternly. 

“wait, sorr–”

“no excuses, ma’am. just please be silent from now onwards, or there will be consequences.” he interrupts you curtly before walking away from the table. the four of you don’t speak, until satoru breaks the silence.

“why’s his voice like that? so nasally?” he said the last part as nasally as possible, mocking the library monitor.  

“you’re so mean!” utahime says as you cover your mouth so she doesn’t see you wordlessly laughing at the admittedly mean imitation. 

“who’s so mean?” you turn to see haibara returning to the table with nanami behind him. 

“obviously it’s gojo.” nanami says without missing a beat. he eyes his water bottle in your hand and you give it back to him. “why did you guys take so long to get water? our reservation elapsed, so i guess we’re here now.”

heat rushes to your face and you feel like a deer caught in headlights. you’re too stunned to feel relieved that nanami’s eyes are looking less bloodshot and more normal. “oh uhh, we were just…”

“we did a lap around the library, nanamin. had to blow off some steam after all that physics, ya know?” satoru says, putting emphasis on that word. if you weren’t with everyone, you would’ve kicked him hard. 

nanami cocks an eyebrow in confusion while haibara doesn’t have a single thought behind his eyes as he readily accepts satoru’s answer. “oh wait! guess what we found while packing our shit up from the study room,” haibara says excitedly. 

“haibara, i really don’t wanna–” nanami starts. 

“we found another penis post-it note inside his textbook. how about that?” haibara says with much amusement. 

“oh my god! no way! do you still think it’s the mysterious girl from physics lab?” shoko says, eyes widening and voice slowly rising. haibara nods excitedly, and you shoot a dirty look at satoru from the corner of your eye, only to see him relishing the conversation. 

“yeah, there is this girl who always wants to partner up with nanamin-chan during lab. it’s gotta be her.” satoru shamelessly fans the flames of a wildfire of his own making. 

nanami pulls out a chair and buries his face in his arms, but the blush creeping up to his cheeks did not go unnoticed by anyone. “or, radical idea, it’s some girl sexually harassing me.” his mumbles. 

“okay, pack it up fellas. i said there’ll be no second warning, so all of you, OUT!” the library monitor takes all of you by surprise as none of you see him coming. “the next time i catch all of you talking loudly at this library results in suspension for the rest of the semester!” he says as you all quietly grab your stuff and leave the library wordlessly. he follows you guys until you’re outside in the crisp evening air and concrete steps of the library entrance. 

once he leaves, you allow yourself to freak out. “oh my god, are we gonna get suspended?! they can’t suspend us for this, right? god, i should’ve known you bitches couldn’t shut the fu–”

“jesus christ, y/n, chill. they just say that shit to scare you. this is like my fifth time getting kicked out of this library.” satoru says nonplussed, hands in his pockets as he leisurely descends down the stairs as the rest of you follow him. 

“thanks though for throwing us under the bus like that, y/n,” shoko says, rolling her eyes.

“is no one going to bring up why gojo is getting kicked out of libraries this much?” utahime asks. 

none of you answer, mostly because no one wants to know the answer to it. satoru’s smug smile is planted permanently on his face as he winks at utahime, and she gags. “anyway, what’s everyone doing? should we get dinner together?” haibara asks warmly, zipping up his jacket. everyone looks at each other and agrees. 

“oooh, let’s go to that new thai place downtown!” you suggest, pulling up your phone to look at the hours. 

“i’m down, let’s pick up suguru on the way. he’s at riko’s.” satoru responds, his information on suguru’s whereabouts earns a “ooohhh” from everyone. 

“he’s still there?! oh my god, he’s in love with that girl…” shoko says. 

the six of you take a walk to riko’s cafe, which is slowly closing up for the night. usually, you wouldn’t walk into a place if it was just five minutes before closing time, like you are now, but you figure it’s a special exception since one of your best friends is crushing on the owner. the lot of you inconspicuously make your way outside the cafe glass walls, trying to catch suguru and riko…doing what? you’re not entirely sure but shoko said something about seeing suguru in his “natural habitat”, and all of you agreed (you blame the caffeine). 

you crouch down and peer into the cafe to see suguru helping riko wipe down tables and stack up chairs (basically anything that requires heavy lifting). damn…that’s cute. may be love really is worth it. your breath hitches in your throat and you jaw goes slack when you see suguru lean in close to riko and kiss her tenderly. you, shoko, and utahime exchange glances with each other with wide eyes and you hear nanami say something about how we are invading suguru’s privacy. the trance this intimate and now stolen moment is broken as satoru bangs his hands against the wall loudly, scaring the lot of you and suguru and riko inside. suguru looks absolutely flummoxed, while riko immediately steps away from him and pretends to inspect something in the barista area. 

you hear satoru yelling through the glass. “open the door, lovebiiiirrdss!” he jiggles the door a couple times to open it but it’s locked. suguru comes closer to open the door and he looks like he’s going to summon curses to obliterate him, and frankly everyone else. 

“man, fuck you. what did i say? why are you here?” suguru says immediately after opening the door to satoru. he gives a disappointing stare to nanami and you. “honestly, i expected better from both of you.” 

nanami tries to defend himself with little to no avail while you focus on making it up to him by talking about thai food. “sorry, sugu, but let us make it up to you. dinner at that new thai place?”

“can riko come?”

“no!” utahime says out of nowhere. it’s silent for five seconds. “i’m just kidding, hehe. of course she can come!” she says sweetly. shoko is the only one who laughs. utahime’s timing in jokes were always questionable but at least she’s really pretty. 

suguru finishes putting up the last few chairs and goes to the back to let riko know about dinner plans. he and her disappear to the break room, and appear three minutes later with their bags and coat. they meet you outside and you notice suguru’s feet are restless, and his hands can’t find a proper place to rest. 

“you good, suguru?” you ask. 

“y-yeah, all good”, he says, pushing his bangs back. 

riko giggle. “he had one too many cups of coffee today.” him, too? “don’t blame him though, they were on the house.”

“oh, okay, great, so we’re all wired as fuck right now.” shoko remarks, as she puts an arm around utahime. 

“you guys got coffee? when? i didn’t see you guys stop by for anything?” riko questions, thinking back to customers that stopped by today. 

everyone is silent, not wanting to embarrass suguru for the second time in ten minutes. “uh, well…” you start. “satoru got us the coffees today!” you say, passing the ball to his court. his problem now. 

satoru shoots you daggers, not feeling fond of being put on the spot to come up with a quick lie. “oh, yeah. uh, i got it from…philz. because…”

“because you hate me and want me to die?” riko says without missing a beat. 

“because, uh…the barista…on main street…i’m sleeping with her. that’s it. my bad, riko-chan.” you don’t know what’s more shocking: the fact that you can’t tell if he’s lying or the fact that riko believes him so easily. 

riko thankfully drops the subject and everyone moves on to different topics, from haibara asking satoru more information about the hot philz barista and utahime sharing amusing events from teaching high schoolers this week. the group of you bask in the crisp and cool evening air as you walk leisurely to the thai place downtown, which was a nice walk away. once you guys arrive, you are met with the sunday night dinner line, which is awful to say the least. your heart deflates knowing you won’t be able to try this place and you and haibara start to look at other places for dinner before riko interrupts the both of you. 

“oh, don’t worry about it. i can get us in, gimme a minute.” she says, before squeezing past a bunch of people waiting in front and greeting the server at the front. the server seems to call someone over from inside the restaurant, and a middle aged man with salt and pepper hair and prominent laugh lines comes out, and his eyes light up when he sees riko. 

riko laughs and gives him a quick hug and starts talking to him about something and then gestures over to you and your friends. after a while of standing awkwardly, riko finally looks over at your group and motions you all to follow her. as you step into the restaurant, you’re met with romantic low lighting, roses as a centerpiece of every table, and various trinkets related to thai culture hanging on the wall and shelves. the place reminds you of somewhere your parents would take you to as a child after getting good grades in class, and it leaves you feeling nostalgic. 

you’re led to a corner of the restaurant where a waiter was quickly pulling two tables together to hold your party. “right this way,” the man says, extending his hand out to the table that was being set up in front of you. 

“thank you so much for having us during a busy night,” nanami says, bowing his head slightly in respect. 

the man laughs heartily. “oh, anything for riko-chan over here. we business owners gotta stay together, anyway. welcome!” you take a seat on the booth side of the two tables, with shoko sitting next to you and satoru taking the seat directly in front of you. “please let me know if there's anything you need during your dinner. my name is joseph!” you take a quick look at his name tag and as expected, see a silver tag engraved with “JOSEPH J” with his ownership title under it. what a sweet old man. 

your thoughts are interrupted by a slightly painful kick under the table to your shin. without looking down, you know in your soul who kicked you, and his stupid ocean eyes are looking directly at you as he mumbles a quick sorry. you waste no time in kicking him back, but earning no response in return. this begins a long game of footsies underneath the table between you and satoru. while trying to keep up with the conversation at the table, your short legs struggle to reach his, and you keep missing his feet. on the other hand, satoru easily dodges your feet and playfully kicks yours under the table (what is he? twelve years old?). 

you’re responding to something suguru and utahime said, when satoru uses his legs to spread your legs forcefully apart. you stutter in the middle of your sentence before gaining your composure back, and you feel the heat rise to your face. satoru’s foot inches closer and closer to your inner thigh, and you quickly finish your sentence, before taking large sips of your water. shoko gives you a look, internally asking if you were good to which you wave her off. 

“uh, i think i’m gonna use the bathroom, be right back,” you say, abruptly getting out of your seat and beelining to the restroom. you don’t actually need to use it, but you need to catch your breath after how easily satoru spread you apart and toyed with you under the table. you rinse your mouth with the tap water and fix your hair in the mirror when you hear a rap at the door. 

you open it and are met with satoru barging inside and locking the door. 

“satoru what are you–” you’re interrupted for the second time today with his lips as he kisses you deeply, his tongue immediately asking for access and you granting it too easily. “w-what are you d-doing~” you say in between sharp breaths and satoru kisses your neck and grips your ass hard. 

“didn’t you say you needed to cum? i’m helping you out,” he says as he feverishly leaves kisses all over your neck and brings his hands up to the hem of your sweater. he deftly slips his hands under your sweater and it takes everything in you to hold back a gasp has his fingers trace every part of your torso and eventually creepy up to your covered breasts. once his hands brush past your erect nipples, you let out a soft moan, inaudible in any normal circumstance, but satoru hears the vibrations through the lips attached to your neck. you can feel him smirking against your neck as he doesn’t let up with his small pecks. the last thing you want to do is give him the satisfaction of making a noise in the bathroom, but your resolve is short lived. 

satoru’s hands abruptly leave your chest, and make their way down to the buttons of your jeans. he fumbles with the zipper and you use the opportunity to run your fingers through his hair and leave small kisses on his temples. something about him taking you in the bathroom turns you on immensely, and the only way you can stop yourself from grinding against the air is to keep your mouth preoccupied. 

“y’gotta stop squirming, baby,” satoru says through ragged breaths, “can’t get these goddamn pants off you when your hips are grinding against my touch.” you feel a blush creep up to your face. you didn’t even know you were doing that. you thought you were actively keeping your hips stilled. 

“i am keeping still,” you whine. “if it’s a skill issue then just say that.” you tease, and egging him on works because once the zipper gets unstuck, your jeans practically fall down your ankles. you bend down to try to get them off completely without having to take off your shoes (you wouldn’t be caught dead in a public bathroom, even a nice one like this,  without your shoes), but satoru already has something else in mind. 

he spins you around and bends you over the granite counter, your cheeks burning from the shock of coldness of the stone. you breath is jagged as you feel satoru hook his finger to your panties and pull it down, feebly pooling by your ankles. you feel exposed as he hugs the mold of your ass and spreads it apart, but even you can’t help but feel your wetness drip down your inner thigh. you feel satoru’s hard-on press against you, and you try to will the fabric between the two of you to disappear so you could feel his length teasing your entrance.  fuck, there’s no getting out of this. do you even want to get out of this? not really…

“s-stop, satoru, we-we have t-to go b-back,” you protest, even though your legs betray you by spreading wider in anticipation of what will happen. 

“yeah, that’s why you’re practically dripping right now, right?” satoru says, his voice slightly strained. he kneels so he’s eye level to your dripping wet pussy and entrance. his mouth practically waters in anticipation of tasting you for the first time – something he’s been dying to taste since…god he doesn’t even know how long he’s been wanting this. 

he wastes no time plunging his tongue as deep as it can go inside your entrance, and he moans at the taste of you. at the same time, your eyes roll back in the pleasure of it all, your moans no longer being held back. using both hands to hold your hips in place and spread you apart, satoru continues his assault on your pussy, not leaving any part untouched by his tongue. you feel yourself out of breath already, and pushing back against his face, trying to feel the friction on your clit. 

satoru seems to catch on, and releases his hold on your hips with one hand and snakes it around you. his fingers find their way to your clit, as if he’s had the path memorized in the back of his hand. he starts rubbing your swollen bundle of nerves, earning breathless moans from you. he already came earlier today, but the sight your legs splayed our and pussy exposed in front of him is enough to make him burst just as hard. 

“fuck, feelin’ you clench against my tongue, baby,” satoru says, still drawing small circles on your clit. “gonna cum? this is what you’ve wanted for so long, haven’t you?” 

he’s teasing you now, and it’s sickening how that edges you on even more. your pussy clenches harder as his tongue re-enters you, and you know you’re going to spill any minute. the coil tightens inside your lower stomach, and you feel the familiar build up about to burst inside you. 

“nghh~ sa-satoru haaa~” you say in between breaths. “m’gonna cum…” 

“normally i’d make you beg but you’ve been such a good little girl for me today,” he says, maintaining the relentless pace of bullying your bundle of nerves. his tongue returns back into you, just in time for the coil to release inside you, and you clench uncontrollable against his mouth. your legs shake as satoru continues his ministrations until he senses you’re out of breath. 

your face feels damp as you try to catch your breath from the orgasm that ripped through your body. satoru stands up and leans against your bent over body, his breath on your skin tingle. he gives you a quick peck on the back of your neck, before you feel his hard-on against your opening. 

“a-are you gonna fuck me, now?” you ask in between breaths. you’re not sure if you could even take him in your fucked out state, but you weren’t raised a quitter. 

satoru chuckles softly against your neck before standing up straight. “i’d fuckin’ love to, but you look really roughed up. don’t wanna let people get the wrong idea here…” he teases, and your head immediately shoots up to look at the state of your appearance. 

your hair is shooting in all different directions, baby hairs and all. your eye makeup is slightly smudged, mascara creating slight racoon eyes. you gasp at how quickly and carelessly you allowed yourself to get this fucked out, all from getting eaten out. “satoru! what the fuck did you do?!” you exclaim, feebly trying to lift yourself off the counter. 

satoru helps you up but frowns. “the fuck did i do?”

you frantically try to smooth your hair down back to it’s original state, but the flyaways still remain, and the humidity of your activities in the bathroom is slowly adding to the frizziness of it. fuck, you’re so screwed. “you…you bent me over! and…” you struggle to find the words to accuse him with. you know it’s not his fault or yours, but you need someone to blame right now. 

“and what? gave you head? and then the best orgasm of your life?” he smirks, watching you as you put your pants back on. 

“don’t flatter yourself. that was nowhere near the best orgasm i’ve ever had.” you say, making eye contact with him through the mirror, as you wet a paper towel and skillfully try to remove any evidence of running mascara from your face. 

satoru raises his eyebrows. “damn, really? guess i just have to keep on giving them to you until one of them is.”

your heart practically leaps out of your chest, and you feel another familiar wetness pool down in your panties just thinking about what this could possibly entail for you.

[gamerwoman3d]

A Land Before Time

🔞 An MK1 x Reader 🔞

▸ includes: Liu Kang [mk1 versions] F! Reader◂

Author's Note: This was based on a sex dream that I had, that I feel @genesiswrld SHOULD have had, because Liu Kang is hot but Bi-Han is my squishy. Not saying the dream was wasted on me, just that it was misplaced 😆

Female anatomy used.

Imagine for a moment that this New Era is real, and the existence that you're currently living is also real, and contains the New Era inside it as a game - but you find a technical way through the use of coding and quantum tech, to enter Liu Kang's New Era, “cool world” style, as something of a god/goddess.

Because you live in our shared reality, the one in which the game was created, you can in fact “code” the New Era into anything you like, within reason. But you have to get past the guardian. Liu Kang and Geras are gods there. But here, they are just characters, with Geras also partially functioning as a type of uncrackable password manager/encryption software. You can give your own self all sorts of powers to take into the New Era; but you can't change the core game unless you can get past Geras and Liu Kang.

You would either need their permission, or you'd have to force/brute force them to comply.

You can literally step from our world into the New Era and live there, immortal, with godlike power. And you do that. You use the code and give yourself the boosts you think you'll need to defend yourself if necessary.

Because you have the capacity to travel to any physical point in the timeline, as well as any temporal point in the timeline, you choose something you think will be easy to start. A time with fewer enemies, a time that you wanted to see in your own world, once.

🔞 Spicy/Explicit after the cut 🔞

When you first stepped through the portal into the New Era, the pristine sands beneath your feet were deliciously toasty. You could not help but to remove your footwear and sink your toes into the sand. The air here is pure, and filled with the strange buzz of unseen insects in the distance. The soft swirl of sand in the hourglass before you quieted. Without the hiss of sand, an absence of familiar noises from your past life became distinct; no motorcars, no hum of electronics, no trace of people, and a distinct lack of birdsong.

If you peer into the reflection of the hourglass over Liu Kang’s shoulder, you can see glimpses of early six-limbed proto-vaternians being gently guided into evolution in a neighboring realm. Liu loses his concentration on the sands as he sees you. Nothing devastating happens in the universe in that instance; there is simply a pause in the work.

Liu Kang knows immediately that you are not supposed to be here, standing before him and the hourglass.

He knows because he has not yet created humans.

Outside of the very meticulously kept garden that surrounds the hourglass, dinosaurs still rule this earth. Even birds have yet to grace the planet.

“How are you here? Or perhaps I should ask, are you truly here? Is it possible that even gods can still have dreams, or hallucinations?”

You tell him you are from a timeline before his own. You are older than his entire universe, older than Kronika, than Geras, older than the hourglass. And while you yourself did not create his universe, you were alive at the time it was conceived[1].

You tell him you shared a planet with, and walked among, the beings that created his universe. His universe is based on what your people knew of their own universe. Your feedback may or may not have influenced these creators; but you have some access to their same power of creation, and have come to use the hourglass to enhance his universe for yourself.

You came prepared to fight if necessary. Liu Kang would be very particular over who has access to the hourglass.

You may even fight a few rounds if you're curious to test your code enhancements - at least until he understands that you do have the power to control parts of his universe already, and the power to defeat him if he made it necessary. Through the encounter, he learns that you aren't lying about being from an even older timeline responsible for creating the hourglass.

But whatever it is that you want to change about the New Era, he likely won't let you without a fresh fight. And another fresh fight, and another, for every single little change you think you could want.

“We don't have to fight. We can compromise.”

For Liu Kang, it has been a lonesome existence, living out the creation of the new era in solitude. Geras can offer Liu Kang company in much the same way as an AI Assistant bot can offer a human company. But you know the depths of loneliness must be unbearable for a creator who is utterly alone in the universe across all of time. You know this, because even in your own world, the mythologies of all creator gods often began with the creation of people.

Even the gods of your own reality were so unbearably lonesome that they, in myth, created all of your ancestors, either for companionship or worship.

Your offer of company is accepted graciously, the moment he understands that you won't be withholding your companionship to exchange for the powers of the hourglass. But to settle conflicts over what happens in the hourglass, you both have an idea.

Gambling, games, and wagers. But instead of betting on who will win a physical fight between you both, you gamble on which of you can bring the other the most pleasure.

You're both seated in the zen garden, where the tropical heat has warmed the sand. Sheets of some soft fabrics are laid out in a manner similar to beach towels, allowing you both to walk and sit without burning your thighs or disturbing much of the sand.

He has a very smug “I know I've already won” look on his face the moment you suggested a contest based on sexual pleasure instead of kombat. You might think billions of years of being pent up would give you an advantage over him, but it doesn't; your customized form in this new era was generated anew when you stepped through the portal into his era. This particular body has yet to experience such pleasure at all, and will react, on a neurochemical level, at its most basic “code,” reacting the same as it would if falling in love for the first time. It will, in a nutshell, intoxicate you with want and pleasure, as if you yourself had never experienced it before.

But you didn't realize this. Your overconfidence proved your ignorance.

“You decide the winner. I trust your judgment will be fair. Or at least I don't trust my own judgment call to be unbiased,” you say.

Liu Kang smiles.

“A designated judge will be unnecessary,” he says, "I am certain we will both agree on who has won the challenge.”

He looks off in the distance before continuing.

“I would appreciate it though if we could choose some less intimate positions, at least at first. I'm still not over the grief of losing my dearest friend, and my beloved. I'm not sure how I might react, looking into the face of another, knowing I shall never have these moments with her. It isn't that I don't realize the finality of her destruction; but giving this kind of pleasure to another is a turning point that I may never be ready for.”

You slide closer to him and caress his shoulder, enough for him to feel your inner warmth.

“Grief is made of the same stuff as love. It's just the love-stuff that's leftover with nowhere to go,” you say.

He lays his head on your shoulder, pulls your hand to his cheek and tilts his face into it. Peace painted across the features of his face as he melted into your touch. His relaxation left you with an indescribable euphoria that deepened with each breath.

“Thank you for saying so. I feel more comfortable now, knowing that you understand,” he says.

“And I'm glad you said something. I like it when you tell me what you want. We can do this however you like. After all, this is a kontest for providing pleasure; not receiving it,” you said.

“Buy you will be receiving it,” he gloated, “and I shall be providing as much as you can possibly stand.”

“Ooh,” you teased, “Promises, promises! Hah, I like it. I feel good about you taking the lead, if you would?”

“Of course,” he said.

As he smiled up at the heavens, he closed his eyes and bit his lip. His eyes squeezed hard enough that the apples of his cheeks warped around the outline of his eyes. He took a deep breath that sounded as if he swallowed an antagonistic laugh.

“You aren't allowed to hate me when I show you how easy this is,” he said.

He turned his body towards yours, guided your body into facing away. You removed just enough clothing to feel his touch, to not hinder him from penetrating you if he chose. The fabric that you left over the top of your glistening pussy was delightfully thin and stretchy enough to move to the side in a pinch.

You spread yourself face down across the sheets of fabric. The warm sand below the soft fabric gave way, cushioned your ribs, and pressed its warmth up into your breasts.

He crawled on top. His weight on you pressed you slightly deeper into the fabric-covered sand. The heat and weight of his muscular legs across the backs of your thighs alone was enough to make you crave completion. But then, his clothed erection pressed against the cleft of your pussy until your slit pinched around the thin fabric. He slotted himself into the fold of fabric and held you there, wedged between the hot sand and his heated, immovable body. You squirmed into him, only to discover that you couldn't move if you wanted to, with your legs pinned to the sand.

You turned your face to the side to look over your shoulder at him. He wore a smug expression as he looked down at you.

You could feel your clit throbbing against… the hot sand? or his shaft. You could not tell. Both were equally firm and toasty.

He was hard. Slotted against the fabric, he nudged his erection firmly against you, the head nestling between your folds to swipe against your clit. His breath deepend, you could feel the air from his nostrils against your neck, just below the ear.

Against your back, you could feel his chest expand and cinch with each breath. You were caught in heat, trapped between his muscles and the sand. You liked this, being at his mercy. He rested his chin on your shoulder and huffed, resting his entire weight on you as he hunched. The cock knocking repeatedly against your throbbing clit had you squirming, whining, whimpering as you held your squeals of pleasure in. He ran one hot palm along your side. He caressed and groped your glute before freeing his cock from its cage of fabric. He hooked a finger around the strip of stretchy fabric above your mound and slipped it to the side.

The bare cockhead slipped between the fabric and your clit. Liu Kang let the fabric snap back into place, catching against the bottom of his shaft. Your pleasure built up as he rolled his hips and frotted against you, fucking the gap between your panties and your clit.

You balled your fists, grabbing handfuls of sand through the fabric sheets. He repositioned slightly so that you could feel the wet swiping of his heated cockhead against your clit more intensely. Your fingers came undone from the fabric and all ten digits splayed out in a fan shape as your quiet whimpers suddenly broke into a muffled outcry of pleasure.

His hands found yours. He covered the tops of your hands with his palms and threaded his fingers between yours, gripping each hand with interlaced fingers. You felt the tips of his fingers curl past the webbing between your digits to press against the insides of your palms. He pressed your hands, and his, to the sand, to pin them where he wanted them - where you could push back into him, but not escape. Not that you'd want to.

Your skin tingled anywhere he touched it, and the skin where the pads of his fingers glanced against the inside of your palm, threaded along the webbing of your fingers, was exceptionally sensitive in a way that made you feel safe, loved, cared for deeply, and connected.

The warm weight of his body on yours made you feel safe, while the cock massaged between your pussy lips. His thrusts massaged them open without penetration until you could feel every fiber of yourself unwinding, melting into the sand.

You looked back at him, only to see that he was still gazing at the side of your face, waiting for you to open your eye. His smug, slight smile never left his visage. He squeezed your hands with a pleasant pressure, as if he were wringing them out. You realized in that moment that you were swollen inside, and quivering at the entrance.

Then he stops moving, intentionally. You feel him, all over you, weighing you down, trapping you in the imprint of fabric in the hot sand. You feel your heavy, puffy cunt lips throbbing against his stationary cockhead. You're sensitive as fuck. Even your heartbeat rocks your clit against his cock too much.

He breathes. He breathes out through his nose, his gentle panting breath trickles underneath your ear, down your neck. His chin follows, as he rests it in the crook of your neck with his jaw at your shoulder. His skin just feels like skin, yet you're electrified by it. You're so sensitive in your new form. He could stay like this all day. You cannot. He knows. You know he knows.

You know because when you look at him, his unchanging, stoic “I told you so” smirk is so purposefully calm, that you could consider it antagonistic. Even just this look he gave you had you dripping wet for him, to say nothing of the thick smooth, hot cockhead nestled against your clit, or the warm shaft that your heavy, fevered wet pussy lips spread themselves over. You give a defeated cry of pleasure and gave in. You tap out against the sand, to tell him he's already won, and he responds by firming up his grip on your hands and moving in for the kill. He devours your neck as he nudges your clit around and fucks you, alternating between the two activities until you cum beneath him.

Your orgasm does not slow him down. He slips his cockhead against the fluttering entrance of your cunt and pauses, as if testing something, as if something changed. The slick hole winks against him and he sinks inside to stay.

“You're so creamy after you've cum,” he purred.

His cock feels amazing, warm and firm and deep, exploring inside you. He pressed it past a spot inside you where the pressure feels so good that you feel you might die unless it, that spot in particular, is beat to hell. He pressed past it, but drew back, stroking slower and deliberate against this inner spot. You felt a sudden dying urge to feel him hammer his cock into this weak spot inside you. The change in your whimpers gave you away.

“This little spot right here is particularly velvety,” he said, “it's just gooey… no. Buttery. Right here.”

He let his cockhead glide against the spot in several slow deliberate strokes for emphasis. You groaned brokenly into the sand and bucked back into him. You had chills. You had goosebumps even on the hot sand. He held and pinned your elbows to your sides. Your nipples stood erect beneath you, the tips ground into the fabric as you bucked backward into him. He paused, held you down, let you rock and buck until the fit of passion washed over you, and you could still yourself. He didn't shush you. He just pulled back until his cockhead hovered a hair away from that sweet spot and he waited for you to collect yourself. You caught your shuddering breath, but couldn't look at him without feeling like you might cum again. You looked, and groaned deep. He acknowledged your desperation.

“I'm going to start fucking that velvety, buttery spot now,” he whispered toward your ear, “I do not know when I'll stop.

Scream if you need to. I've yet to create a single person that could hear you.”

His cock pinpointed that part within you that most yearned for it the instant he buried it in you. He pressed himself against it and wrung you out. You felt it as your own cum for him seeped out, dribbled down onto the fabric and soaked through the fabric into the sand.

Every stroke is devastating. You're loud as fuck and no one else can hear it. The skies open up and it rains on the two of you, mostly upon his back. Judging by his gentle moans, the rain itself seems to give him pleasure as the droplets hiss against his back, only to turn into steam. You could swear that you're causing it, that this rain is your rain. Suddenly you are cumming because it is raining, and it is raining because you have cum. When your palms tremble, he re-interlaces his fingers with yours to squeeze your hands in his, wringing you out, wringing out your anxiety, wringing out your pleasure, and possibly wringing out the very act of rain itself from the sky above. You couldn’t explain it, but somehow you knew.

You became the rain. And the rain became you. The rain became a goddess, and the goddess was you. The wetter he made you, the more the world flooded. He had no intention of going easy, but you found yourself clenching, squeezing, sucking him in, working yourself against his body as he worked you apart with his.

“That's it,” he huffed, “now, you're getting it.”

His breath grew ragged.

He said, “Rain.”

You nodded, not fully understanding.

“Rain on me,” he said.

Your eyes widened. He knew. You knew he knew. Rain pummeled your bodies in a deluge as you felt, not just the tension of your body snap, but the tension of your sudden ascent to godhood burst into creation, almost as a miniature version of the big bang. Untold energies from deep within your soul burst forth and spread out in all directions, spreading your power throughout all the realms, both giving you power over all the rains in the entire universe, and giving the entire universe the gift of your rains.

But you couldn't focus on the sensation of becoming a god, as Liu Kang fucked another blinding orgasm from you. This time, his composure cracked, and he came screaming with you in tandem, hot against you, his inner flame temporarily quenched by the deluge of your pleasure. The two of you thrashed against each other with abandon, riding out your pleasure together, before collapsing boneless into the soaked fabric atop the muddying sands.

The rains subsided gradually as the two of you caught your breath. You moved to roll over, and Liu rolled off of you onto his rain-soaked back. He closed his eyes and let the pitter-patter of the rain wash over his body, cooling him, turning to steam in the air around you both. You rolled onto your back beside him, then onto your side to drape yourself around him.

“Wow,” you said between heavy breaths.

“...Yeah,” he replied, still panting.

When you caught enough of your breath to speak full sentences, you could only think to ask one question.

“Did you just make me a fucking rain goddess?” You asked.

He nodded and laughed.

“You didn't think I'd let the first hot sex in my new era be mediocre,” he said.

“Holy fuck though,” you said.

‘Literally?” he teased.

“Okay yeah literally, but I'm starting to think I won that one,” you said.

He just closed his eyes and smiled.

“Okay wise guy, who won?”

He bit his lip and jerked his thumbs towards his chest, gesturing to himself.

“Ugh. You're impossible. Round two!” You demanded.

“You're losing this one too,” he said.

He rolled on top of you and peppered you with kisses. He promised you a second round, and a third - if you survived the second.

But first he needed to check progress in the hourglass. You peered into it with him and saw proto-vaternians in their pre-paleolithic era. A group of them surrounded a cairn, upon which sat a strange skull decorated with stones and feathers. You asked Liu Kang what it was; he told you it was a representation of you. You were the very first art, the very first goddess. You were the first to collect worship and be created in such a manner. You arrived in the new era just in time. The ancestors of the Vaternians had just created and worshiped their first god, which happened now to be you.

Had it not been for your intervention, Liu Kang would have been forced to grant this worship to the one you knew as Rain.

[To be continued.]

[Need more MK1 smut? Check the pin 📌]

[Need more Liu Kang smut? Check the Choose Your Own Adventure, below!]