#under desk cable management

[ergonomicworkstations]

Humanscale's NeatTech Cable Management Solution – Large (48″ x 4.5″ x 4″) offers an extended design to accommodate larger setups. It effectively organizes and conceals cables, creating a cleaner and more efficient workspace. The sleek, modern design blends seamlessly into any office, reducing clutter while maintaining an organized and professional environment.

[gay-4-space]

The general consensus among my Celtic Studies classes is that the University should be paying me for all the IT support I end up doing

[delamu]

Delamu Under Desk Cable Management Tray - Pack of 2

Maximize your workspace with the Under Desk Cable Management Tray from Delamu. Our spacious tray provides ample room to hide messy cables, surge protectors, and laptop chargers, keeping everything neatly tucked away.

[ovrgrwnivy]

Hello! I saw your requests were open so I was wondering if you could write a Spencer Reid x Reader fic based off “prison for life” by Olivia Rodrigo. Spencer has always been in the protector role so i believe it would fit him, please and thank you

PRISON FOR LIFE ; spencer reid

i know i can protect myself, but when you do it for me it’s hot as hell . . .

a/n: your brain is huge this song is so spencer coded

warnings: spencer reid x fem!bau!reader, unsub / case entirely made up to avoid spoilers, protective!spencer, established relationship, secret relationship, mentions of guns, violence, blood, criminal minds in general

a team. the worst kind of conclusion to draw when you’re narrowing in on an unsub, or two in this case. two family annihilators that would stalk and learn the routines of their victims, the kills were usually quick and ruthless, in and out in a matter of minutes.

only this time, your team had gotten there right in time. derek dragged one unsub out the door while the other bolted down the stairs towards the basement. without thinking, you’re sprinting after him, unknowingly running straight into a trap.

you trip the moment you barrel through the door, flying head first down the flight of stairs and landing on the hard concrete with a hard thud.

dizzily, you get to your feet, clumsily reaching for your gun only to realise you dropped it on your way down. it’s dark, you’re disoriented, and most terrifyingly, you’re not alone down here.

a fact you’re abruptly reminded of when a cord is wrapped around your throat, pulling your back flush against the chest of the unsub you were hunting. the initial panic urges you to scramble, but your training kicks in and you manage the lodge your elbow right into his ribs making him drop the cable.

the same elbow connects with his jaw with a satisfying crack but he’s not going easily, using the hair at the back of your head as leverage to bash your head against a dust old desk.

the struggle goes on for what feels like hours, and you’re giving as good as you’re getting. with a successful knee to his groin you send the unsub tumbling to the ground, and right as he’s about to lunge at you a metallic click sounds from behind where you stand.

“one more step and i’ll empty my clip”

spencer reid, your favourite coworker who also happens to be your long time boyfriend, has his gun pointed at the unsub with one hand as the other reaches out to pull you behind him protectively.

in a matter of seconds tara is cuffing the dirtbag before you and hauling him up the stairs with the help of jj, leaving you and spencer in the dusty basement.

“I had it under control.”

“It was no problem, darling, honestly, no need to thank me” spencer teases, holstering his gun and taking your face in his hands to fully examine the extent of your injuries “you really think i was just gonna ignore the fact you ran after a killer and didn’t come back within sixty seconds?”

“i’m not some damsel in distress” you groan, letting him examine your face with no resistance “i can protect myself”

“i know.” spencer nods, using his thumb to swipe the blood away from your bottom lip “it’s not gonna stop me protecting you, though. sorry”

he can see through your faux annoyance. spencer knows just as much as you do that you like having him as your protector, it’s ‘his job’ as he put it.

though, his protectiveness has made hiding your relationship that bit trickier.

everyone on the team would take a bullet for each other, there was no doubt about it, but people hotch were beginning to notice that spencer often went above and beyond when it came to your safety.

like when the bau were being targeted, he never left your side, if you were sent to interview a suspect reid was right there with you. even if a joke was made at your expense, it wouldn’t be entertained by spencer.

sometimes you could pass it off as it being because you were a woman, because even though all the women on the team were more than capable, the men on the team had a fierce protective streak for them whether or not they knew.

“you’re so annoying..” you grumble, fighting a small smile.

“mhm” spencer chuckles, pressing a quick, light kiss to your head “i love you too, darling”

“oh!”

a squeak from tara has both of you whipping your heads in her direction, frozen in the mixture of fear and embarrassment that you’d just been caught out.

“well,” tara clears her throat and makes a poor attempt at concealing a grin “we’re all done here when you two are ready.”

[ddejavvu]

hi mei, i was curious if you could write about reader hiding like their childhood stuffed animal or comfort item like a baby blanket from maybe hotch or peter parker the first time they come over cuz they r embarrassed

this is not age regression shit, just to justify LOL

this works with any peter (hopefully) - the first time my bf came into my room i hurled my decrepit old childhood teddy bear into a corner and when he left i grabbed him like i'm so sorry man i couldn't let him know about you and me.

It's a testament to Peter's natural curiosity that you've been sprawled out over your bed for twenty minutes and he hasn't taken the bait and kissed you yet. Instead he's walking around your room inspecting every nook and cranny, peering into picture frames and opening drawers to paw through their contents.

"Peter!" You laugh, watching him duck beneath your desk, "The only things under there are cords; what are you doing?"

"I'm just looking around!" He insists, "My aunt always tells me you can find a lot out about a person by the space they keep."

"Oh? What are you finding out about me?"

"You have terrible cable management," His nose wrinkles as he ducks out from beneath your desk, "But that's better than what May says about me. She says my room tells her that I'm a pig person with no standards for cleanliness."

"Ouch," You snicker, "May doesn't hold back, does she?"

"Never," Peter grins, and does a final lap around your room before finally succumbing to the call of your mattress. He flattens himself out beside you and sighs, "Your room is boring."

"Hey!" You jab him in the ribs, "What do you mean?"

"I mean it's so clean!" He groans, rubbing his side, "There's no- there's no personality here, there's no trash on the desk, there's no clothes on the ground, there's no comfort blanket on the bed."

"I don't have a comfort blanket," Your cheeks rouge, and Peter zeroes in on it with an eagle's eye.

"Yes you do," He accuses, leaning up on one hand to tower over you, "Where is it? Show me!"

"It's not a blanket!" You insist, but you've implicated yourself, "It's- it's a teddy bear, okay? And I put him away because he's... fragile."

"Mhm. Fragile." Peter nods, "I'll be careful. Show me."

"He's kind of hard to get to."

"Show me."

"He's- uh, he's falling apart, too, not pretty to look at."

"Show me."

"He needs to be washed."

"Show me."

"No!"

"Come on!" Peter groans, "I'm not gonna make fun of you! I've got a stuffed animal too."

Your glare is perhaps made less effective by the way that your cheeks are on fire. Peter isn't deterred in the slightest, and the second you grumble, 'He's under the bed,' Peter's swinging himself over the side and jamming a hand beneath it.

"Got him," Peter laughs, peering at the plushie that he's dragged from beneath the bed, "This is your special one?"

"Mhm," You nod, watching warily as Peter surveys him, "Like I said, he's- he's kind of worn out and he needs to be washed, and-"

"He's great." Peter smiles, tucking the bear to his chest as he gazes fondly up at you, disarming the nerves bundled tightly in your chest, "You can meet mine the next time you come to my place."

[fangirlfrom-hell]

How Many Detectives Are Needed To Sleep A Baby? || Jay Halstead x reader!

Cute and fluffy Jay, wife and baby + babysitter detectives

*re-posting this because I'm stupid and accidentaly delated my blog 🫠

Summary: Intelligence unit takes care of Jay's newborn baby while he and his wife are in court. Turns out it is the most difficult case they have worked on.

-"You can't go in there". Platt muttered in a scolding tone to Adam, who wanted to go into the coffee room.

-"Why not?" He asked strangely.

-"Shhhhhh". Kim gave him a punch on his arm. -"Keep it quiet, you're gonna wake her up".

-"Ok, alright". Ruzek kept his voice low. -"What the hell is going on, girls?"

-"Halstead's baby is sleeping in there. Don't you dare to interrupt her sweet dreams, bro". Kevin said from his desk.

-"Look at her. You can see her smile even from here". Hailey said, peeking through the window.

Trudy and Kim followed her.

-"She's so lucky she didn't get her father's mad face". The Sergeant enquired.

-"What do you think she's dreaming about? She looks so peaceful".

-"What's going on? Where's Jay? Where's her mom? What is she doing here all alone?" Adam was losing it, increasing his voice volume once more.

-"She's not alone. We're taking care of her!". Hailey frowned.

-"Adam, please". Voigh silently got out of his office and rushed towards him whispering. -"Would you keep it down? I can hear your voice even with my door closed. Let the baby rest, she's only weeks old and already has seen too much".

The detective opened his arms in a defeated gesture. He had just arrived and didn't understand anything.

-"Y/N is testifying right now, we couldn't avoid it. She and her colleagues published the investigation under their names, so...I couldn't stop it. Jay is by her side. The baby is here for protection".

-"She really is a hell of a journalist". Upton mentioned with admiration.

-"And a very brave woman. We owe her a lot in this case". Hank stated.

-"You know? You would have known about this if you had arrived in time to work". Burgess teases Adam.

-"Is there any news about the trial?" Platt wanted to know, worried about you.

-"Not yet, but Jay said he'll be in touch". The boss stated. -"You know these trials take time".

They weren't conscious about it, but the whole Intelligence squad looked hilarious talking with whispers and walking in tiptoes as they went back to their workplaces.

Time passed and the girl was still sleeping safe and sound, until Adam decided to stand up to stretch a bit and stumbled with some cables on the floor. Naturally, the clatter woke up the little baby.

-"It had to be you, right?" Kim mocked her husband as she helped him stand up.

Hailey and Kevin ran to the coffee room as if they were running a race. It was him who got there first and held the baby girl.

-"There, there. Uncle Kev is right here". He tried to reassure her. -"I had siblings and took care of them when they were babies. I can manage another one".

But after a few minutes, she was still uncontrollable.

-"Ok, it's my turn". Burgess got into the game and took the baby off his partner's arms. -"I'm the only mom here, the only one who has a real daughter. I know how to do it".

-"What are you talking about?" Trudy Platt laughed. -"Makayla was already a grown up when you adopted her!" And she grabbed the baby to accommodate her in her chest. But the crying did not stop.

-"Oh, no. What are they doing to you, sweetie?" Upton grabbed her and laid her in her arms. -"I am her godmother, she knows me better".

The baby Halstead slowed down her crying, but she was still restless.

-"Well, how many detectives do you need to sleep a baby, hum? You don't know anything". Hank Voight gasped. -"Give her to me, I'll show you all". But as soon as she was in the arms of the boss, her crying increased. -"Oh. I've lost touch!"

Jay and Y/N were already at the bullpen, waiting in the stairs. They got in time to witness the fluffy scene.

-"Hey, guys? She's not a rag doll, you know?" Jay said laughing at the scene and his friends turned around with surprise. -"She just needs her daddy's arms''. He took his daughter to stroke her and almost immediately she calmed down.

-"That's not fair". Platt crossed her arms.

-"We brought you coffee". You smiled, leaving the box you were carrying on one of the desks. -"There's not enough caffeine when you take care of a newborn. There's one for each of you, just as each of you like it. Look for your name in the tags".

-"Geez, thanks!" Adam said gladly and balanced the table. -"I was denied entrance to the coffee room the whole morning".

-"I'm sorry". You turned red.

-"Don't listen to him". A chorus of detectives said.

-"She's really calm, it was no problem". Kevin asserted and everyone else agreed.

You approached your husband and as soon as you were in your daughter's sight, the baby started to smile and giggle, throwing little kicks into the air.

-"What? Why are you laughing so much, baby?" You raised your hands and freed Jay's arms. -"Come with mommy, sweetie".

Everyone stared at the scene with tenderness, especially Kim, whose eyes started watering.

-"You wanna hold her?"

She just nodded and took the opportunity.

-"How was the trial? Are you alright?" Platt inquiered.

-"Yeah, I mean it was really scary, but I think it went fine". Y/N hands started to shake a little bit, but she was fast enough to hide them in her pockets. Nobody noticed, except for Jay.

-"She did a great job". He hugged you by the waist, trying to secretly ease you.

-"I have no doubt about it, she already showed us how much of a badass she is". Hank smirked.

-"I will just be more comfortable if you stay in here at least until the Jury deliberates, or as soon as I can go home with you. It's just a precaution, I'm not being paranoid or something".

-"Yes, I agree". Voight followed the idea.

-"Sure. Whatever you think is better".

The baby yawned and stretched herself so adorably, that she caught everyone's attention again.

-"I should put her down to sleep".

-"Alright. Take my seat, Y/N. We don't know how much we're staying here". Jay pointed out.

-"C'me on, Kim. Give the baby back to her mommy".

-"If you need help with the baby or you get bored of these people around, I'll be downstairs". The desk Sergeant winked at you and you smiled back at her back.

-"She won't be bored. She has me here". Hailey pulled a face.

-"I'll take provisions just in case the little one takes the coffee room again". Ruzek rushed to the kitchen.

Everyone else rolled their eyes in a funny way.

[calumfmu]

hoping everything bends

Divorce Lawyer!Steve x Reader (based off this request)

You didn't plan on meeting him that day. It was an accident really. A mistake that should've had you fleeing from the door, but the second you laid your eyes on him, you knew this was an opportunity you couldn't pass up. (2.9k+ words)

cw: 18+, mdni, smut, p in v, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex, cream pie, rough sex, older!Steve, mean!Steve (in the best way possible), age gap (mid-twenties reader),

soon to be one of my favorite fics that i've started, thank you to the original anon who requested it! title is based off of cable management by violets crush, i've taken some inspiration from the lyrics for the pov for reader. so check it out <3

You didn't plan on meeting him that day. It was an accident really. Rushing into the office, you tripped over the high Louboutin's on your feet, stumbling over nothing as you reached down to adjust them. You repeatedly pressed the open door button on the elevator, cursing as it took its sweet time opening. You were running about fifteen minutes behind, waking up from a drunken slumber about 45 minutes ago, New York City traffic betraying you as always.

A receptionist looked up at you through her small frames, grimacing slightly--something you had assumed was to be a smile.

Giving her your last name, you patted your ring finger against the gloss of your lips.

"Twelve o'clock?" She confirmed, typing away at the monstrous computer in front of her. You nodded, straightening up as she pointed you in the right direction.

"Left or right?"

"Right!"

Rapping your knuckles against the tall wooden door, your skirt suddenly felt too short, too unprofessional to meet with this lawyer. He was an old family friend apparently, someone who had helped your dad with his 5th or 6th divorce, you couldn't remember at this point. He was spoken highly of, someone who handled business straight to the point--assisted your family name in getting everything they wanted.

A soft call beckoned you in, the door opening under your grasp to reveal floor to ceiling windows, highlighting the city that stood in front of you. The room was empty, save for a few pieces of furniture, metallic against the stark white of the room.

A man stood with his back to you, leaning against one of the windows as he peered out, a black coffee in his grip. He spoke on a phone in his other hand, frustration dripping in his voice as he discussed terms with them.

"Have a seat, I'll be right with you."

You tip toed as best as you could to the desk, finding a seat in one of the chairs. The desk was organized--meticulously so, a single pencil laid next to a ballpoint pen, aligned with a black leather bound planner. A computer was pushed in the far corner of the desk, neat and organized as the rest of the items, a single keyboard placed in front of you. There were smaller items in the opposite corner, a small lamp, fake plant, framed picture of what appeared to be a group of people.

You ran a finger along the length of the desk, testing your theory if there were to be a speck of dust found anywhere. There wasn't.

"Sorry about that," the man hummed, sliding out his chair to take a seat. Glancing up at him, a small gasp escaped your lips.

"Oh, you're cute," you whispered, smiling to yourself as you took him in. His hair was pushed back out of his face, styled so his gray speckled hair poked out from his hairline, framing his face perfectly. Thin wire glasses adorned his face, resting on the tip of his nose bridge, a pair of plump pink lips beneath them.

A blush crossed his features briefly before he cleared his throat, raising his eyebrows at you.

"And you smell like alcohol," he shot back, dragging his eyes over your frame. Winking at him, you pulled up the hem of your top, brushing your fingers over your exposed breast bone.

"Long divorce, long night."

"Ah," there was a slight smirk on his lips, a glint in his eyes that you decided would be dangerous for you. You could deal with that later though. "Last name? I don't remember having a twelve, but I may have overlooked it."

He opened the planner in front of him, scanning the pages for your name as it fell from your mouth. Frowning slightly, he hummed, leaning over to type something in his computer.

Just as he opened his mouth to say something, the door flung open, an even older man appearing in the frame. He didn't even look at you, rolling his eyes as he leaned against the metal, fingers gripping his nose bridge, eyes squeezed shut.

"Remind me why I do family favors, again?" His voice was gruff, irritation lacing his tone. "Second time, we've tried to reschedule, and this chick won't show up."

The man in front of you cleared his throat, glancing at you as he began to put two and two together.

He cut the man off from the speech that began to pour out of his mouth, "Uh.. Harrison?"

The older guy stopped, eyes finding you for the first time. His eyes widened as he straightened up, adjusting the tie that sat around his neck.

"I'm in the middle of something here."

"Right, sorry, Harrington," he fled just as quickly as he arrived, the door shutting behind him. Reality hit you as it made a soft thud that echoed in the otherwise quiet room, you sinking into the chair a little.

"I take it you're supposed to be his twelve," that smirk only deepened as he looked at you, a sheepish look crossing your features. Smiling innocently in return, you sucked at your teeth, running it along them.

"I won't tell if you won't."

Shaking his head at you, he leaned back in his chair, spreading his legs wide as he pulled at his jacket lapels, huffing with the movement. Your eyes trailed down his form, lingering at the fabric where it bunched around his abdomen, dipping down into his groin.

"I'm going to be honest, kid, I don't know if I have room for another client right now," he began, speaking with his hands. He didn't notice your curious gaze, his own eyes focusing on his desk as he gave you the run down. "What do you have to be? 30? 31? Harrison, there, he's the best money could buy in this industry right now, with the most time. Used to young clients too. You're better off with him."

Pulling your eyes away from him, you shrugged, crossing your legs. Your skirt pushed up a little bit, exposing more of your thigh than would be considered appropriate for the setting. You pretended not to notice him look at you as you leaned over the desk, elbows perched on the cool wood.

"''M 25," You gave him the same smirk back, watching the way he briefly looked away, muttering 'Jesus Christ' under his breath at your age. "And I have all the money in the world to want you."

His eyebrows raised at your suggestive tone, clicking his teeth together as he thought of what to say next. You beat him to it.

"I think you'd be pretty good for me," your voice was low as your leaned over the desk, your chest beginning to spill from your strapless top that hugged your body. His gaze was unfaltering, focused on your face as you began to tease him.

"I doubt that's hardly appropriate or professional."

He stood up from the desk, adjusting his jacket once more before holding a flat hand out, gesturing towards the door.

"Ma'am?"

Your face fell as the rejection hit you, your mouth falling open in surprise. You weren't used to this, instead having men fall at your feet before and during your marriage even, used to throwing out the tens, hundred even of suitors that you plague you during the weeks.

Standing up, you leaned a hand against his desk, the other resting on your hip. "Sir."

He let out a deep sigh before running a hand over his perfectly styled hair. Knowing you weren't going to move, he crossed his hands over his chest.

"You're stubborn, aren't you?" His voice was firm as he rounded the desk to your side, landing feet away from you. From this proximity, you could smell the musk from his cologne, filling your nostrils with a slightly sweet scent. It only turned you on more.

"Don't you have to in this industry to get what you want?"

A genuine smile cracked through, warmth from his eyes showing as he (finally) dragged his eyes over your figure.

"Smart girl."

Those words did wonders for you, warmness pooling between your thighs as you took a step towards him. He backed away slightly, maintaining his professional composure.

"Harrington-"

"Steve."

Your smile deepened, your teeth digging into your bottom lip. "Steve. I don't see a wedding ring, so what's the problem?"

"Ironic, isn't it?" He didn't back away from you as you cornered him, placing a hand on his chest as he leaned against his desk, one of his hands grazing your thigh. He looked down at you, his eyes slightly hooded as you tilted your head up at him.

"Is it my age? Is that scaring you?"

Steve remained silent, darting his tongue out to lick at his lips. You could see the hesitation on his face, your question answering himself.

You trailed your hand up his chest, dancing your fingers along his neck, up to the nape of his hairline. "Well, I can promise you, I know what I'm doing."

A small nod left him, his head leaning down slightly to breathe you in, his lips parting. You craned your neck up to brush your mouth against his own.

"I could even teach you a few things."

A moan escaped you as he crashed his lips into yours, all professionalism leaving through the window. His hands found your waist, gripping the skin there as he spun the two of you around, lifting you up so you sat at the desk.

Your legs immediately came up to wrap around his hips, your hand pulling him further into you. He tasted like mint, his tongue finding its way between your parted lips, making claim there.

You leaned back against the desk, laying flat against it as he pushed you down, leaning over your body as his hands roamed free, grabbing at every exposed part of skin you had to offer. The largeness of them had you gasping into his mouth, eyes rolling back behind closed eye lids as you imagined them elsewhere, dipping inside of you.

Pulling away, he pressed kisses to your jawline, the scruff on his face leaving redness as he sucked in a few marks, nipping at the skin as he led himself lower.

"Steve," you moaned, gripping at his hair. He leaned back, his hands disappearing underneath your skirt as he pushed up the material.

"Don't touch the hair," he quickly said, pressing a kiss at your chest before sinking to his knees. You rolled your eyes at him, spreading your legs anyways as he slid down your panties, throwing them to the side. "I'm at work."

You could barely spit out a response before his mouth made contact with your wet cunt, licking you open immediately. A strangled moan was choked out, your hands shooting out to grab onto anything you could find. The organized items you recognized from before fell onto the floor, loud clatters filling the room.

His tongue left you briefly, Steve shushing you as he hitched your knee over his shoulder. Returning his mouth to you, your back arched, the wetness between your legs increasing.

You didn't know if it was him or you that had you dripping, your core tightening as he worked his magic, tongue flicking in and out of you, one of his fingers nurturing your clit under its touch.

"Steve, Steve," his name fell out of your mouth in a mantra, your eyes squeezed shut. Reaching behind you, you curled your hand over the edge of his desk beside your head, pushing your hips into his face even further.

He moaned at the push against his face, shoving his face in even deeper. His mouth alternated between licking at you, diving his tongue in and out of your wet hole and leaning up to suck at your clit, working fast as you fell apart around him.

"I'm gonna-"

It was fast, over just as quickly as it happened, your legs tightening around his head as you came, orgasm coursing through the length of your spine. Your eyes opened, staring up at the high ceiling as he tongue fucked you through it, running his thumb over your clit.

"Such a good girl." His words were addicting, praises that had you wanting to continue. You knew it was bad, just how good this felt, but you didn't care, it had been so long since you had a decent lay, this attention feeling like heaven.

Whining, the over stimulation felt like a strange vice, something you knew you shouldn't have, but so pleasurable at the same time. Steve removed himself from between your legs, leaning up to return his mouth to yours. You tasted yourself on his lips, the area around his mouth dripping wet with your release.

His hands were pulling at his belt, pushing at his boxers, releasing himself in a swift motion. Your lips were pushed together so sloppily, loud smacks filled the air as he ran the head of his cock through your folds once, twice, three times before sliding in.

Snaking your legs around his hips, you pulled him deeper, the stretch burning so right.

"Slow do-oh fuck--please, slow down," he muttered, resting his forehead against yours. One of his hands rested on the desk beside your head, the other trailing down the length of your leg. Stopping at your heel, he freed your foot from the constraint of the Louboutin, it already hanging half way off.

Tossing it away from the two of you, he pulled your leg up higher on his hip. You cursed at him, two thousand dollars being carelessly thrown to the other side of the desk.

"I'll buy you a new pair, relax," he said, pressing one more kiss to you before rearing his hips back. You expected him to slam into you, only for him to carefully ease his way back in, rolling his hips in a way that had you shaking already.

You moaned, dragging your nails up under his shirt. The crisp material bunched up under your hands, pulling half way up his back.

Your words came out stuttered, groans falling from your lips as you struggled, "Perfect, this se-season, ah, right there, is to die f-for. Fuck, Steve."

"Shut up," he rolled his eyes, as he sat up, hand beside your head leaving the desk to press against your mouth. He muffled your moans, thrusting into you repeatedly as he picked up his pace. The desk was shaking under the movement of your two bodies, his computer threatening to topple over.

The ruddy head of his cock pressed against your walls, hitting that sweet spot over and over. You could barely hold back your screams of excitement, grateful for the large hand that muffled them from fully coming out. They would have sure been heard from miles away, urging concern from his colleagues who shared the floor. Hell, maybe even a few floors down.

Steve was getting close, his head falling back in pleasure as he repeatedly bottomed out, pushing in deeper each time compared to the last. You pulsed around him, dripping as he drew you closer to your second orgasm.

His hips stuttered a few times before he came, filling your cunt deep as he pushed in one last time to the hilt. That final push was all it took for you to be sent over the edge, pulsing around his twitching cock as it was nestled deep inside you.

His hand left your mouth, running over the side of your cheek as you leaned into it, spent from the high. He tested himself once more, once small push of his hips inside again before you whined, reaching down to press your fingertips against his stomach. He got the hint, pulling out of you with a squelch that filled the air, white ribbons of cum spilling out of you.

He grabbed your hand in his, pressing a small kiss to the back of it as you reached down with the other, feeling the mess he left behind.

"Good girl."

Groaning, you shook your finger at him in a warning, sitting up on your elbows. "Don't start that again, please."

Your legs fell from around his hips as he took a step back, adjusting himself back into his pants. He took a look around the room, as if someone would be watching, his hand brushing down his face.

"Same time tomorrow?" You asked, pulling down your skirt as you stood up on one heel, the other on the desk chair pushed opposite of you two. You turned on the desk, leaning over to grab it as you pushed your ass in his direction, teasing him one final time.

As you turned around and sat up, you noticed the vacant look behind his eyes as his eyes lingered on you, pants being left unbuckled, his belt hanging loosely from the loops. "I actually have a twelve tomorrow."

You shook your head at him, walking over to him as you grabbed the discarded pair of panties that were draped over one of the open drawers. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you smirked up at him, "Better start making some arrangements then."

The look on his face returned to what it was during the heat of the moment, a dark stare with his mouth parted open in want. You leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek, a smear of the remnants of your gloss left on the skin.

Tucking your underwear into the waistband of his pants, you took a step back from him, pulling your skirt down even more.

"Hold onto those for me, yeah?"

Another mutter of 'Jesus Christ' was heard as you walked over the door, swinging it open to reveal the long hallway you came from. You were giddy as you smiled to yourself, the fun of this separation finally coming to fruition.

masterlist. inbox and requests are open! <3

a/n: long awaited I know! but here it is! I hope you loved it anon, I love you. I decided to put this as as stand alone instead of in the request because I wasn't sure how long it was going to be.

[cryptic-forge]

cable management? she doesn't care, she's got it under control.

another monster high robot girl custom. this time the recipe is one elle eedee + some transformer wings and gundam bits. she is from 2022, though i did some repainting before taking these photos because i just might have had 16 projects on my desk and 67 on my mind when i first made her & the paint job felt quite unfinished.

[there is never a time when i don't have 16 projects on my desk and 67 on my mind, but i do try to have the patience to see all of them through eventually.]

[dubharts]

Edith trying to do some cable management under her work desk. Maybe you could give her a helping hand?

[ergonomicworkstations]

Humanscale's NeatTech Cable Management Solution – Small (38″ x 4.5″ x 4″) is designed to organize and conceal cables, providing a tidy and efficient workspace. This compact unit neatly houses power cords, data cables, and accessories, reducing clutter and improving workflow. Its sleek, minimal design complements modern office environments, ensuring both functionality and aesthetics.

[notmaplemable]

Ruby: My boyfriend is a gamer, and I always make sure to support him from under his desk~.

------

Ruby: Jaune, your cable management is freaking terrible.

[lovefazedforsoundwave]

OFM! SOUNDWAVE X GN!CYBERTRONIAN! READER | SMUT

Warnings: valve teasing, SPIKE IN VALVE INTERFACING, small Praising.

You had been working aside soundwave under megatron and his orders. You two both remain as work partners, but you want to be more than that. It just didn't feel right as a work partner. It gave you a sharp feeling in your spark. It pounded when you were close. Who knew if he felt the same about you,

You had just wished you had enough courage to tell him that you loved him, and you needed him. Soon, each cycle and micro second you wasted no time to spend together strengthens your relationship with him. You get more confident each cycle. And you had planned a few cycles ago that it was time to admit your feelings to him since they can't just hide there forever. Cycles pass, your crush for your work partner grows, and you even plan to make a confession, eventually.

Cycles later, it's decided that you tell him what you've been wanting to. You practice & muster up courage each day, to tell your work partner you love him, he's gotta be somewhere, maybe in the communications?, you go check but he's not there. You should ask the other vehicons or the other fellow decepticons. You walk around and somewhat manage to find vehicon ST3V3,

"Hey. Steve, have you seen soundwave? Anywhere??"

"Oh. He's in his headquarters, and he wanted me to invite you there, I was going to find you."

"Oh, thanks, steve."

You walk off waving goodbye at steve before going off to soundwaves headquarters. Maybe he needed something? As you drift off into paradise, you find yourself by his headquarters door. You shake out off it and knock on his door and he then opens it.

Oh, uhm. Hi, soundwave. I've heard you've requested me?."

" Yes. I have requested for some personal reasons."

You look at his towering from. You've always been shorter than him. He invited you in and locked the door, he retracts his mask and placed it down on his desk as he turned to you and walked closer and kissed you out of the blue, his soft dermas against yours fell so nice, you shutter at this but accept his passionate kiss, he shoves his glossa into your intake while you moan to the sudden action, his yellow visor brightens to your pleasured sound, he breaks to kiss to breathe, the long Saliva string on his tongue and in your mouth, you breathe hard.. he moves you to the berth, he towers over you as you lay down, you blush and hold back a whine of pleasure as he runs his two digits over your interface panel

"Permission: may I open your panel?"

"Ahm.. ye-s.. you can.."

He's so careful with what he does, so it won't hurt you in a way. He takes off your panel, the cold air hits your valve lips, you shiver, he grumbles a praise, and he then adds his digit to your valve Thrusts in and out slowly, your valve gets wet with transfluid by the second, you moan as he geta deeper each microsecond , you get closer to releasing your pent up cycles of pleasure, your fantasies got ahold of you, soundwave on top of you, touching you, and it's exactly what you'll get. He's thought so many things of you it's impossible about how incompatible he becomes when his fantasies of you get stronger each cycle, he speeds up his digits, hitting all the right spots, causing you to moan, you were just about to overload, but he pulls out and sticks his two digits into his mouth tasting you, he grunts, you whine after the cold hits your valve lips again but then he takes his own interface panel, revealing his spike, it pulses, the ridges, and bio lights glow, he spreads your tibulens gently, he positions himself by your valve entrance, he pushes in gently, taking his cable inch my inch, you moan, from both pleasure and pain, he runs his digit over your chassis, as a sign to insure you, that you'll be fine, adjusting to his cable, stretching you out, you nod meaning he can move, he moves gently in and out, the pleasure builds up each Thrust, you moan so generously for him, he praises you,

"Your moaning generously for me, good, good bot."

You moan as he praises you, his Thrusts getting faster by the minute, making you moan, you're getting so close to overload. Your spark chamber pounds in this passionate moment you both share, his yellow visor glows, and he groans loudly as he Thrusts, his digits grab your tibulens more, he Thrusts faster each second hitting your gstation , hitting places you'd never knew, you overload, as he just rides his overload out roughly inside your valve, being oversimulated, his transfluid drips out your valve as he pulls out, heaving a breathe, as you drift off to recharge, he comes closer and kisses you on you're faceplates.

"I.. love you y/n,"

He admits something he hadn't for just anyone before, a new feeling had sparked him.

[delamu]

Tidy up your Desk with a 2-Pack Cable Management Tray

Keep your workspace tidy with our spacious Cable Management Tray for under your desk. Hide messy cables, surge protectors, and laptop chargers, and tuck everything neatly away for a clutter-free environment. Shop Now!

[rbbrbikerthorp]

A Room For The Night

“Urgh!” I said to myself as I walked down the dingy corridor looking at the numbers on the doors. A sign points the way; up another flight of stairs.

“Room 507 - here it is,″ I said to myself..I put an actual key key into the lock. I turn it to the door to the attic bedroom, I still can’t believe that all the known chains in town were full for the night. After. a really long day trudging around the city from meeting to meeting and then entertaining a customer, I’d missed my last train home. I must’ve checked out two dozen hotels online before I managed to find one with a room. I guess ‘beggars can’t be choosers’.

As I opened the door the stench hit me in the face; a mix of smoke, damp and old furniture offended my nose. No point complaining; there was no alternatives and it would only be for one night.

I dropped my bag on the bed and walked over to the sash window to see If I could open it, but it wouldn’t budge. Years of painting had sealed it shut.  

I looked around the room to see if there was another way to get some ventilation in. There was ventilation panel and a switch on the wall below it. When I flicked the switch, I was pleasantly surprised that hotel had fitted one of those silent air-con units you can hear faintly as opposed to one with a fan that creates an unbearable noise. I looked around the room and spotted a TV on the wall, there was a fridge and kettle. I also noticed a wardrobe, but as I was only staying one night I wouldn’t unpack my bag. 

I guess the day was catching up with me, because I began to feel very tired. Just then I remembered I had to send a couple of emails before the end of the day. So I grabbed my laptop and sat at the desk. As I typed away, I could hear comforting sound of the air conditioning whispering away in the background . “Mmmm perhaps this wasn’t so bad for one night,“ I thought. The two important emails were sent plus, I sent another to my department head summarising meetings - not something I’d normally do, but I felt compelled to do it on this occasion. I logged out and closed my laptop.

I decided to take a shower before bed. I stripped out of my suit trousers and shirt and head into the bathroom. I turned on the shower, and stepped in, the hot water immediately relieved the tension in my muscles. Not having planned to stay away for the night I didn’t have any toiletries with me, but I was amazed to discover a hotel of this standard actually provided a selection of bathroom amenities for guests.

I cracked open the shower gel and rubbed it into my hair. I whiffed the scent, “wow that’s really overpowering,” I thought. I tried to figure out what the scent was but for some reason my mind wandered onto other things. I massaged it into my hair, lost in the smell, closing my eyes. I stood under the water raining down from the shower head feeling the suds wash out of my hair.. I reopened the bottle of shower gel and applied it everywhere, wanting the smell to cover me entirely. The smell is making me feel soooooooo relaxed and sooooooo horny. Eventually, I know I’ve left the soap on me for long enough and rinse myself off

Turning off the shower, I step out and grab one of the towels from the rail and dry myself off. I felt so drained but also so relaxed. I walk out of the en-asuite and drop the towel on the floor and, fully naked, I climb under the covers. At the side of the bed is the remote control, I grab it and turn on the TV. 

When the screen came alive there was just static. I flicked through the channels, but it was the same. “Urgh”, I thought, “here we go, the TV doesn’t work.” I was about to get up and see whether the cable had come loose but I found myself captivated by the colours on the screen. There was also a strange humming noise emanating from the television that made it hard to think. I laid there, watching the pretty colours,”sooooo beauuutifullll…” As I watched I became hornier and hornier but I found couldn’t move a muscle. I began to panic, the static was interspersed by coloured spirals and then there were flashes. the flashes grew brighter and more frequent - I’m sure the flashes were actually words but I couldn’t tell. I kept staring at the screen, open-mouthed. 

All I could do was stare at the screen. Sometime later the screen finally went blank. I reached to the bedside table and switched off the light. I quickly drifted off to sleep listening to the soundtrack of the whispering air conditioning.

I vaguely recall having this weird dream when suddenly I came around. Rolling over I tapped my phone to check the time, it was only 3:30am. A thought entered my head - I needed to get up and check the wardrobe. “What? Are you serious?” I laid there for what felt like ages , but the thought didn’t go away. In fact the voice in my head kept getting louder, Check the wardrobe...Check the wardrobe...Check the wardrobe..It kept getting louder still. Check the wardrobe... Eventually the compulsion took over. I climbed out of bed and walked over the wardrobe, and opened the door. 

As I pulled the doors open, right away there was a rank smell of old leather and cigarette smoke. Hanging inside the wardrobe were some clothes and a pair of boots. Even though I knew thugs wore clothes like these, I couldn’t help myself, I had to touch them. My hand brushed against the green bomber jacket; I felt a static charge that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I picked up the boots, lifted them and held them to my face. They looked as though they’d been well worn. I took a deep breath. Inside each one, someone had stuffed in a sock. At first the smell of foot odour and leather was overpowering, but after inhaling the scent for a few minutes I felt intoxicated and started feeling horny again. 

I picked up the pair of jeans that looked like they’d been splashed with bleach. They looked like they’d been worn a few times since the last wash. There was also a black polo shirt on another hanger. “Hmmm,” I thought, “The last person staying here must have left this behind. I’ll have to mention this to reception when I check out. I put everything back in its place, closed the wardrobe door and went back to bed to try and get some more sleep. 

Back in bed I laid staring at the ceiling listening to the whispering air con. “Was that a voice I could hear? Was it telling me I should try on the clothes hanging in the wardrobe. Why on earth would I want to try on another person’s worn, actually well-worn clothes?” I laid in bed contemplating what the voice in my head was telling me to do. After a while i thought, “maybe I could try the clothes on - it would be a laugh. No, what am I thinking?” I was restless in bed. In the end the voice was becoming unbearable, I caved in. I got out of bed, opened the wardrobe again, and inhaled deeply. This time the smell didn’t offend me. I took out the contents put them on the bed and looked at them closely.

I grabbed the bleached jeans and slid them on, one leg at a time. I struggled to get into them as they were skin tight, probably a size too small compared to any trousers I’d normally wear. I stood up and walked to the mirror. The jeans had been cut short, so they just covered the knee. There was a clear bulge at the front. I turned around; the jeans were nice and tight around my arse. “Where did that thought come from?” I walked back over to the bed and picked up the black polo, with yellow piping on the collar. I raised my arms, slid it over my head. I looked okay to say I’m not the slimmest I could be.. My horniness was increasing.

The boots were next. I felt a definite tingle all over my body as I picked them up. I pulled the socks out and one at a time, I rolled up them up my legs. I studied the boots; the white laces were pristine. This was a total contrast to the rest of the clothes, which had been used multiple times. I could tell there was a certain way the previous owner had set about lacing them up.  It took me a few minutes to work out how to copy what had been done before that would, in the end, create a ladder effect. Instinctively knew they needed to be laced tightly onto my feet, so I started with the left and then moved onto the right boot. After a short while I’d got the the boots on my feet. I stood up and walked around. The boots felt heavier than anything I’d worn on my feet. 

Walking around the bedroom in these tightly laced boots than went all the way to the top of my calf muscles was amazing. I was getting hornier than ever. I could see my growing bulge in my bleached jeans. I walked over to the wardrobe, taking the green bomber jacket from the hanger and slipped it on. I noticed a lump in one of the pockets. Lifting out the contents, I held an unopened packet of cigarettes and a box of matches in my hand. I stood staring in the mirror for ages. I was experiencing a ‘sensory overload’ - that’s the only way I can describe it

The reflection in the mirror was obviously me, but it also wasn’t the me I’d known all my life. For the first time I felt different like a different person, but something didn’t look right. I stared and stared, then I had a revelation. “It’s the hair,” I said out loud, “You don’t wear clothes like this with a head full of hair.” Without thinking I went into the bathroom and looked through the amenities that the hotel provided. Sure enough there was a brand new Mach 3 razor and a tube of shaving cream. I slipped the off the jacket and removed the polo shirt.

Although i kept my hair relatively short, it was going to take some time to shave my head without being able to use any clippers to remove the bulk of my hair. In the whispering air con I heard a voice, so quiet you could barely make it out. It seemed to be whispering “desk drawer, desk drawer”. I walked back into the bedroom and opened the drawer. Inside was a solitary item; a pair of scissors. “Well,” I said to myself, “these will make things easier,” I went back into the bathroom and set about hacking at my hair with the scissors. Clumps of hair were falling into the sink. I kept snipping until there was almost nothing left to cut. 

I turned on the tap and ran the water until it got very hot. Next I squeezed plenty of shaving cream into my hands and applied it evenly all over my head. I rinse my hands of the foam and picked up the razor.

Instinctively I knew what I needed to do. I put the razor at the back of my crown, and pulled it towards my forehead. I rinse the razor under the running hot water. In steady strokes I went from front to back in the direction my hair seemed to be growing in.

I could feel my the bulge in my jeans getting harder and harder. I’d completed the top of my head. Time to do the sides. I put the razor just above the left hand side, pull it down in an even stroke, only stopping when reach the top of my cheek. When I’d finished the one side, I switched to the other side and did it all over again.

Between each stroke I’d rinse my razor in the hot water to keep the blades clean. When that was done, it was time to do the back. I took my time because I couldn’t see what I was doing. I carefully placed the razor at the back of my crown, then pulled it down toward the nape of my neck. I made very slow, even passes with the razor, repeating it until I could was happy that all my hair was gone.

One last scrape...done!

I looked in the mirror and could see my head was fully shaved and gleaming. At that moment I felt different. A ‘switch’ in my head flipped. I stared at myself in the mirror - I sensed I’d evolved. A new character had emerged, I was become mean and aggressive.

I was shaken from my thoughts by a knock at the door. I look through the peephole to see who was at the door. Whoever was standing on the other side of the door had obscured my view.

“Oi! Oi!, lad, open the door.”

It wasn’t a request, it was an order. I had to comply.

I opened the door, standing in front of me was a huge skinhead. He didn’t say anything nor did he smile. 

I spent a few seconds taking him in; From the tightly laced boots on his feet and the obscenely tight bleached jeans to the black bomber jacket, black gloves and shaved head. Not only did I feel tiny by comparison, I also felt intimidated by his appearance. 

He walked over to the other side of the room. Lit a cigarette, inhaled and blew the smoke in my direction.

He took another drag on the cig, exhaled and then spoke. “Right, let’s take a look at you.” 

I walked towards him, inhaling the second hand smoke. He studied me like a scientist looks at bacteria under the microscope. He smiled.

“Yep, it seems that you’ve responded exactly as you were instructed boy.”

All I could do was smile. If I’d have been a dog I’d have been wagging my tail; happy to have pleased my skinhead Boss. “Boss, where did that thought come from” I wondered? 

With that he took another drag on his cigarette. “Boy, I think you’ve already found a pack in your jacket pocket, get one out and light up, ...now! 

Again it wasn’t a request it was an instruction to be obeyed without question. I got one out of the pack, put it in my mouth. I got a match out of the box and, as I pulled it quickly along the side it ignited. I brought the light to my cigarette and instinctively inhaled. I held it for a few seconds and then exhaled.

He took another drag on his cigarette, exhaled in my direction and spoke. “Right boy, get yer wallet and phone and give ‘em to me.”

I walked across to the bedside table where my phone was and then went into my suit trouser pocket to get me wallet. I handed them over without question. 

He watched me finish my cigarette and then spoke, “I want you to get through that pack today boy.”

I didn’t say anything, I nodded still in shock as I realised for the first time in my life I’d smoked.

“Stay there boy, there’s one more thing to do.”

With that he took some red braces out of his pocket and attached them to the top of the jeans I was wearing. He handed back my phone. 

“That’s better - red braces to hold up yer bleachers. Take a selfie boy, and then give the phone back to me. It’s time to tell all your friends, family and workmates yer a skinhead now.”

I took the picture and handed him the phone. I watched him type out a message, attach the picture I’d just taken and select ‘send to all’. “Done,” he said, putting my phone back in his pocket. “Can’t wait to see the responses you get boy.” Now he had a big smile on his face, “Now put your shirt back on and grab yer jacket. Leave everything else behind, we’re leaving.”

He watched me pull the braces off my shoulder so I could put the polo shirt on. I was about to pull them back up when he said, “nah, leave them down. He paused for a few second, “now yer might be dressed like a skinhead boi, but you’ve got a lot to learn about the skinhead code. Yer gonna live with me and I’m going to show ya, but we need to make a few modifications first in order to finish your transformation. Let’s go...”

Without questioning my new Boss I grabbed my jacket and followed him out of the room. The door slammed shut behind me - not turning back. 

Walking down the corridor, we passed a room where someone had left a pair of black boots and some other gear outside. The skinhead turned around,“Ah good, looks like they’re getting ready for the next 'guest, who will join the growing skinhead ranks.”

At which point I grabbed the growing bulge in my bleachers and followed two paces this brute of a skinhead Boss ready to embark on my new life and the final stage of my transformation.

The End?

[All of the pictures used to illustrate the story have been found online. If I’ve used someone’s by mistake, let me know and I will remove it.]

[phillippadgettwrites]

Dropped Call, Chapter 2

Rated X / 3700 words / posted on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

They’re in Lakeland, Florida and it’s been pissing rain since they hit the tarmac in Tampa. Between the inability to keep his loafers dry, the fact that he forgot his glasses, and the lack of cable in his motel room, Mulder is in a seriously bad fucking mood. He even turned down dinner with Scully, something that is typically the highlight of his day on assignment, to spare her from his grouchiness. He always hates himself when he’s an asshole to her for no justifiable reason, and right now he doesn’t possess the capacity to regulate his emotions as effectively as he’d need to to avoid it. 

At this point, he’s come to the conclusion that the phone call was some kind of hyper-realistic dream or fantasy. Given, the facts don’t totally line up in support of that theory, but it’s easier to operate under the belief that it never happened than it is to accept the idea that it did happen but will never be spoken of, much less acted on. Easier than accepting that he unwittingly divulged graphic details regarding his sexual fantasies about Scully to Scully herself, and she was so horrified that she can only cope by acting as though the phone call never took place at all. 

But was she really horrified? His memory of the exact words spoken by each of them isn’t especially sharp, given that he thought he was speaking to Electra, but he’s pretty sure he remembers her asking him questions, goading him into sharing more. And he knows that he correctly recalls what she said about “enjoying other meals,” because by then he knew exactly what he’d done and who he was speaking to, and the high he experienced in light of her confession lasted well into the following day, right up until he knocked on her door with a paper bag containing tom kah gai in hand. 

She hadn’t acted strangely, aside from the general lethargy caused by her cold, and that in itself struck him as strange. She ate her soup, smiled at him while he detailed the creative ways he’d wasted time that morning in her absence, and then yawned and said she was going to take a nap. It’s not that he was expecting her to bring up the phone call or kiss him goodbye or something, but he thought things would feel…different. He certainly felt different. 

But weeks have passed, and she has more than fully recovered from her cold, yet there is nary a hint of increased sexual tension between the two of them. In fact, there’s been a distinct lack of their typical casual flirtations, almost like they’ve regressed. What conclusion can he come to other than she’s just not interested? She seems to want to pretend it never happened, and for lack of a better option he’s done the same. 

He calls the front desk again, hoping that he’ll get someone other than the exceedingly unhelpful young man who offered apologies regarding the lack of cable, but no solutions. After speaking to the night shift manager at length, his options are to move to a room clear on the other side of the complex, or go without. 

“Let me think about it and call you back,” he says, then slams the phone down on the receiver with more force than is necessary and flops onto the bed.

Within seconds the phone is ringing and he picks it back up, expecting to hear the night manager on the other end. 

“Yeah?”

“Hey, it’s me.”

He can hear the ghost of her voice through the poorly insulated wall between their rooms, a murmuring, indecipherable vibration. 

“Hey, what’s up?”

“I was going to ask if you wanted the rest of this pizza, but I kept getting a busy signal so it’s probably cold now,” she says. 

“I’ll never understand your aversion to cold pizza,” he says.

She makes a noncommittal little noise, and then they are quiet for a beat. 

“So who were you talking to?” she asks. 

Her voice is a bit higher than normal, giving away her attempt to appear disinterested in the answer, and that, in turn, piques Mulder’s curiosity. 

“Who do you think?” he replies, just to see what she’ll say. 

Scully scoffs as though this confirms what she already suspected. 

“Please send my regards to Electra,” she snarks. The reference to their previously unmentionable phone call sends a shock of adrenaline through him. He can’t think of anything to say, so he just doesn’t say anything. “What time do you want to head out tomorrow?” Scully says quickly, changing the subject, and he can nearly feel her embarrassment radiating through the wall. 

“Nine?” he suggests, and she grunts her agreement. There’s another pregnant pause, and he decides to seize the opportunity. “I told Electra about what happened,” he says, his heart pounding loudly in his ears.

“Oh?” Scully says after a beat.

“Mmhmm,” Mulder replies, summoning courage. “She said you’re going to put her out of a job.”

Scully huffs an uncomfortable little laugh. 

“I highly doubt that,” she says quietly. 

They’ve never had an issue with awkward silences. As many hours as they spend in one another’s company, it’s just not possible to avoid lulls in conversation, and he’s long appreciated the fact that Scully doesn’t try to fill them with meaningless drivel. An unfortunate side effect of this is that on those occasions where they are intentionally avoiding a specific topic of conversation, the weight of those unfilled silences is practically unbearable. 

He wants to ask her so many questions. Why didn't she tell him it was her? Was she disgusted by what he said? What did her cryptic comment about “enjoying other meals” really mean? Is this a door she never wants to open, or does she just need him to open it for her so they can both walk through? 

“I’m sorry about that, by the way,” he blurts out, inexplicably compelled to keep them on this subject. “We’ve never talked about it, but I realize that it was probably really weird for you and…sorry.”

Part of him knows he’s fishing for information. If she accepts his apology, he can take that to mean that an apology was due. If she refutes the need for one, that will tell him something entirely different. 

She doesn’t do either of those things. 

“Well, I could have hung up,” she says, her tone inscrutable. 

“But you didn’t,” he says, equally ambiguous. 

“No,” she says. 

The silence is so fucking heavy it makes him feel sick. 

“Why is that?” he ventures. “Just out of curiosity.”

He hears her pull in a slow, deep breath and then expel it in a huff. 

“I’m not sure,” she finally says. He can’t tell whether she’s obfuscating. 

“Were you offended?”

“...No.”

“Surprised?”

“Very.”

“Was that surprise of the pleasant or unpleasant variety?” he asks, switching the handset from one ear to the other so he can wipe his sweaty palms on the bedspread. 

He’s listening so intently that he hears both the wet sounds of her tongue moving around inside her mouth in search of words, as well as the creak of bed springs as she shifts uncomfortably on the mattress.

“I’m not sure how to answer that,” she says after a time.

What the fuck does that mean? He wonders. He could logically conclude that she was into it, between the not hanging up, the asking of questions, and the hesitance to outright say whether it bothered her. But this is Scully, and the risk of making an incorrect assumption is not one he is willing to take. 

“How long have you been talking to her?” she asks, and at first he doesn’t understand the question. Talking to who?

“Oh, I was actually talking to the front desk,” he says, realizing that he never corrected her. “The cable in my room is out.”

“Oh,” she says. “So you didn’t really tell her about what happened?” 

Her tone is strange and foreign to him. She sounds uncertain, insecure almost. 

“I did, a few weeks ago.”

“Hm.”

“To answer your question, I’ve been talking to her for….I guess a little over a year now,” he says. 

This would typically be an embarrassing thing to disclose, but her active participation in a phone call of the same nature makes him feel like she doesn’t really have a place to judge. He also finds her curiosity regarding Electra compelling, though he can’t really say why. 

“Oh,” she says, sounding surprised. “That’s a long time. With one person, I mean.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

He can tell there’s something she’s not saying. Something she wants to ask him, or wants to know but is unwilling to ask. He has an overwhelming urge to tell her everything, to detail the ways that talking to Electra helps him cope with having to bury his feelings for Scully every weekday between the hours of 9-5, plus most weekends. He wants to tell her that it’s not just about sex, though it was the night he ended up with her on the line. That Electra knows exactly what Scully looks like, down to the little mole on her upper lip, and that she snorts if he manages to make her laugh hard enough. That for every time he’s jerked off while telling Electra what he wishes he could do with Scully physically, there were two phone calls where he kept his pants on and told her how tormented he is by his inability to get closer to her emotionally. 

“It’s not always like that,” he says, opting for a less detailed disclosure. “Most of the time when I talk to her, we just talk.”

“About what?” she asks, and he immediately feels his face get hot. 

“I feel like you already know the answer to that,” he says, equally mortified and irritated. It doesn’t seem fair for her to feign ignorance at this point. 

Scully is quiet, but he knows her mind is racing. He can feel it, a frenetic crackle against the shell of his ear. 

“I guess I do,” she says when he’s just about to ask if she’s still there. “I don’t want you to think…” she starts. He waits for her to find the right words. “I don’t want you to think I was offended or that I’m upset about what happened,” she says carefully. “I realize that it might seem like I am, so I just wanted you to know that I’m not.”

“Okay,” he says uncertainly. This is good news, in a way, but it’s also non-news. 

“I also owe you an apology,” she continues. “It was inappropriate of me not to tell you as soon as I realized. I violated your privacy, and I’m very sorry for that.”

“No apology needed,” he says. A beat passes. This is ridiculous. “Can we just—Look, I know this is awkward, and I know you’re a private person, but can we just—”

“I don’t think I’m ready to do that,” she interrupts him, her voice urgent and a little afraid. 

He takes a moment to absorb this. 

“You’re not ready to talk about it,” he says, and she hums in confirmation. “But you’re….interested? Open to it? Eventually?”

“Eventually,” she repeats. “Not now.”

“Okay,” he says, satisfied that he understands the situation. “I can and will respect that.”

“Thank you.”

“See you at 9 tomorrow?”

“Yep.”

He hangs up the phone and folds his hands over his belly, staring at the dusty popcorn ceiling as he thinks back through it all. A little smile plays at the corners of his mouth. Eventually isn’t something he can necessarily look forward to, but it’s a hell of a lot better than never. 

The phone rings, and reaches across the nightstand to answer it. 

“Hello?”

“Hi.”

Mulder’s eyebrows furrow. The voice is definitely female, but he can’t immediately place it

“Hi. Who’s this?”

The caller clears her throat. 

“Uh, this is…it’s Electra,” she says. 

A hot flush spreads out over his entire body, and there’s a slight ringing in his ears. 

“Hi,” he says, sitting up. “How are you?”

“I’m well,” she says. “What are you doing?”

He hears the vibration of her voice from the other side of the wall, the cadence of it a millisecond ahead of what comes to his ear through the phone. 

“I’m just relaxing,” he says. He suddenly doesn’t know how to behave. “I’m at a motel and there’s no cable in my room.”

“Oh no,” she says. “What are you going to do to entertain yourself?”

Her tone is awkward and unconfident, but he understands what she’s going for and plays along. 

“I don’t know,” he says, swinging his feet over the side of the bed. “Any ideas?”

“Well,” she says, her voice just this side of shaky. “You could tell me about another one of your fantasies, if you want.”

There is a rush of blood to his lap that makes him momentarily lightheaded. She’s really doing this. 

“Okay,” he says, but his mind goes blank. What is she hoping to hear? What if he says something she finds offensive? This is a lot harder when he knows it’s Scully he’s talking to. “Give me a second to think of something.”

“Last time we talked, you said you had other fantasies of the same nature,” she says hesitantly.

“I do,” he confirms. “I just…sorry, you just caught me off guard.”

“I can relate,” she says with just a hint of coyness, and that makes him relax a little. 

He lays back down on the bed and closes his eyes. If he’s going to do this, he has to pretend it’s really Electra on the line. 

“Okay,” he says. “Something that’s important to know for context is that she loves to take baths.”

“She?”

Mulder opens his eyes, taken out of the moment. He never has to specify with Electra; there’s only one “she” he’s ever referring to. 

“My partner,” he says reluctantly. 

“Oh,” she replies. “Okay, go ahead.”

Mulder closes his eyes again and lets the image of his fantasy fill his mind. The tiled walls of Scully’s bathroom, the bright smell of her lavender bubble bath, her dirty clothes in a heap on the floor by the tub. 

“One of my fantasies is that I stop by her apartment unannounced, and I hear her call out for me to let myself in. So I use my key, and once I’m inside she tells me that she’s in the bath.” He pauses to see if she has any commentary on this, but she says nothing. “I start talking to her through the door, which is something I’ve done a handful of times, but in my fantasy she tells me to come in.” Another pause. All he hears is her even breathing. “She’s in the bath, but it’s so full of bubbles that I can’t see anything. I sit on a little stool beside the tub and we keep talking.”

His heart is pounding. He can’t just say this to her. 

“And then what?” she asks. Mulder swallows. 

“And then…I end up touching her under the bubbles,” he says, glazing over the rest of the details and making use of a euphemism. 

Scully laughs a little. 

“I think you may have skipped some things,” she says gently, and he cringes. 

“Sorry. I don’t want to be too graphic.”

“Why?”

“I guess I’m worried I’ll offend you,” he says. 

“What if I promise not to be offended?” she offers. 

“Is that something you can reasonably promise?”

“I guess we’ll find out.”

“Okay,” Mulder says, sucking in a steadying breath. “I’m sitting next to the tub and we’re talking. After a while some of the bubbles start to dissolve and I can kind of see her body. Not details, just sort of the contrast of her skin, and—” he pauses, then forces himself to say the next part. “I can see darker areas, like her nipples and her pubic hair.”

Scully hums, an indication that she’s following along. That she’s listening. 

“She’s talking about how much stress she’s been under. I think in the fantasy I kind of know that she’s been having a hard time and I’m worried about her.”

“Interesting,” Scully says, her voice breathy. 

“Why is that interesting?” he asks. 

“Oh…just…I guess I find it interesting that her emotional state factors into your fantasy,” she observes without judgment. “That was also true in the previous fantasy you shared.”

He doesn’t miss the fact that she’s referring to herself in the third person. And she isn’t wrong. 

“So she’s talking about how stressed out she is,” he continues, shifting his hips around as his erection begs to be touched, “and I tell her I can help. I ask if she’ll let me.”

“What do you say, exactly?” she asks. 

He reaches down and gives his cock a squeeze. “I say something like, ‘I know what you need,’ and then I look at her body under the bubbles. I’m not very explicit.”

“Why?”

“Because in this fantasy we’ve never done anything like that before, so I wouldn’t just come out and say it directly. That would be too forward for her.”

“So you want it to be realistic?” she asks.

“Sometimes.”

“Okay, so you tell her that you know what she needs. What does she say?” Scully says, getting them back on track. 

“She doesn’t really say anything. Her eyes get wide, and she looks down and realizes that she’s slowly being exposed. She’s embarrassed, but she’s also excited.”

“How do you know?”

“Because she’s not telling me to get the fuck out of her bathroom,” he says lightly, and she laughs. 

“So what do you do next?”

“I reach out and touch her knee, which is above the water. And then I watch her face as I run my fingers down the inside of her thigh.”

“You don’t kiss her?”

“Not yet.”

“Does she stop you?”

“No. She just looks at me. Her eyes are still all big and her mouth is open. She’s breathing hard. And then she moves her other leg to the side.” He swears he hears the tiniest little moan slip through the phone. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“What?” she asks, though it’s unclear whether she’s asking what his question is or if she’s just confused by his divergence from the story. 

“When we talked before, when I told you about my other fantasy?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Were you, um…did you touch yourself?”

She’s quiet for so long that he gets his dick out and gives it a few strokes before leaving it to rest, stiff and aching, against his belly. 

“Yes.”

His dick lurches, standing at attention briefly before it flops to the side. He doesn’t want to come before this is over, lest his post-nut clarity ruin the rest of the experience, so he tries to touch it as little as possible. 

“She moves her other leg to the side so I know without a doubt that she wants it. When I touch her, she closes her eyes and moans right away. Even under the water I can feel how wet she is. How slippery. I ask her again to let me help, but this time I say, ‘let me make you come, Scully.’”

She gasps a little, and he realizes that he used her name. He’s never used her name with Electra. 

“What does she say?” Scully asks, nearly whining. Her voice is high and tight, and he wants to know so badly if she’s touching herself again now. 

“She says, ‘we can’t.’ But she’s pushing her hips into my hand even when she’s saying it so I don’t stop. I know she wants it. I put one finger inside her and she just…she melts.”

“Oh,” Scully breathes out. It’s unclear whether it’s commentary on the story or a vocalization of whatever she’s doing over there. 

“I get rid of the stool and I kneel beside the tub so I can kind of lean over into it for leverage. And that’s when I kiss her. Or I try to, but she can barely kiss because of what I’m doing to her with my hand. I add a second finger and she’s throbbing like crazy.”

“Yes,” Scully says in encouragement. 

“Are you touching yourself?” he asks quickly, his tone unchanged from his narration.

“Yes,” she says again. 

Mulder squeezes his cock in his fist. 

“Me too.”

Another, “Oh.”

“I curl my fingers up towards her belly, and then I get my thumb on her clit. She’s holding on to the sides of the tub for leverage and practically fucking my hand, she wants it so bad.”

“Uh huh.”

He can’t hold back anymore. He strokes his cock frantically fast, pumping his hips up off the mattress as though thrusting. He no longer has the capacity to worry about how graphic he’s being.

“Then she comes. She comes so hard she can’t speak, can’t breathe. And her cunt is just…god she’s so tight. And all I can think about is how good it would feel to be inside her when she’s coming.”

Scully gasps, and suddenly the line goes dead. Through the wall, he hears a long, low moan, and then a series of high staccato whimpers. He explodes forcefully into his own hand, sending ropes of cum up as far as his chest and completely defiling his last clean T-shirt. He still has the phone propped against his ear and his cock in hand, slippery and quickly softening, when he hears a click, and then her voice comes back through the open line. 

“Mulder?”

He sits up quickly, which makes his head spin. 

“Yeah?”

“I was thinking, can we leave at 8:30 tomorrow? I’d like to stop for some decent coffee if we can make time.”

Mulder blinks stupidly, disoriented. 

“Uh, yeah, 8:30 is fine. Are you…you’re good?”

“Yeah, I’m great,” she says simply. 

“Okay. Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight. Sleep well.”

Mulder sets the phone back on the receiver and looks down at his cum-streaked lap and belly. That absolutely happened, there is no doubt in his mind. 

[marigoldendragon]

One of the best parts about having a frankenstiens pc is that I can just upgrade a part whever something breaks.

One of the worst parts is trying to interface a whole lot of old and new jumbled tech bits and you bump a cord under your desk and all of a sudden I have to get under there tomorrow to do cable management troubleshooting to see if I need to buy a new monitor or 2 >:/

But whatever that's tomorrow-me's problem.