#fictober day 2

[scullysexual]

fictober day 2 | m | this list | ao3 | @today-in-fic | @xffictober2023

Oh it would be so easy to slip the clothing that separates them down, for him to slide into her. To actually have sex felt like too much of a commitment, too big a step forward, she wanted it to be more than just a quick rut on the couch- as pathetic as that sounded. Besides this- the way he moves slowly against her core- to change this all of a sudden might mean they’ll both wake up and stop. [Mulder and Scully partake in some dry humping]

Day 2: Dry Humping.

The movie had ended ages ago, she was supposed to leave ages ago yet instead Scully finds herself laid back on the couch, limbs all tangled, a tongue down her throat and its owner laying on top of her.

She wasn’t going anywhere any time soon.

Mulder was hard. She could feel it even through the many layers of clothing. Even she was feeling the effects of their make-out session and the way he was grinding so perfectly against her centre.

Oh it would be so easy to slip the clothing that separates them down, for him to slide into her. To actually have sex felt like too much of a commitment, too big a step forward, she wanted it to be more than just a quick rut on the couch- as pathetic as that sounded. Besides this- the way he moves slowly against her core- to change this all of a sudden might mean they’ll both wake up and stop.

“Will you stay tonight?” he asks, his lips against hers. He asks her this every Friday. They’ll be no funny business, he sometimes adds. I’ll even sleep on the couch. And each time she has an excuse. I have to finish that report, or, My mother’s coming round. She was telling him the truth each time but none of those things stopped her from staying over necessarily.

“Yes,” she answers taking the chance. And maybe it was because enough time has passed, maybe it was the fact that they were responsible, mature adults who could spend the night simply existing next to each other. Or maybe it was the way he was grinding on her, the pressure and feeling making her brain all fuzzy that influences her answer.

“Oh my god,” he whispers in awe. His hands yank at her hips, pulling her even closer. Scully yelps which turns into a sigh and then a moan as he presses himself even harder against her. There was no ignoring what they were doing now, no pretending that they were simply kissing.

It happens all of a sudden. She feels the pressure building before she explodes, softly, almost like snowfall or very light rain. Her body stiffens and she clutches him a little closer, hanging on.

She just came, she thinks.

Mulder has also stiffened in her arms. This wasn’t supposed to happen, she was supposed to leave.

A hot redness creeps over her cheeks and neck.

“Um…” she says, lost for what to say, sitting up. Mulder moves automatically. She chances a look at his face and it seems to be one of shock.

“I’m sorry,” she says, feeling a sudden need to get out of here. With enough space cleared, she is able to stand and she begins heading towards his front door. “I’ll- I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Scully—”

But she is gone before he can utter another word. Mortified and embarrassed for reasons she can’t explain she runs as far away from Mulder’s apartment as fast as she can.

[underratedbananawerewolf]

Fictober Day 2

Prompt 2: "Don't worry, I got you." 

Fandom: Honkai Star Rail 

Rating: G 

Warnings: None 

Yanqing knew what people said about him and his relationship with General Jing Yuan. His first conscious memory had been of the General teaching him how to hold a sword. He had no memory of his actual parents and Jing Yuan never spoke of them. Of course, Yanqing had never asked either. The man who had raised him was the only parent he needed.  

But even at eight years old, he knew what people said about him, about how they disapproved of Jing Yuan taking him in, training him, encouraging him to be the best he could be. He had never shown any reaction to the unkind whispers or the open statements that disagreed with his choice to raise Yanqing. He ignored them for the most part from what Yanqing had seen. The most he had done that the boy witnessed was coolly dismiss the objections that were raised to his face.  

It was that defense, the willingness to teach and simply the kindness and care that the general regularly showed Yanqing that made him idolize the man all the more and want to do everything he could to prove the naysayers wrong. He would prove that the only father he remembered had made the right choice in adopting him.  

However, the dynamic between had changed once Yanqing had begun training in earnest, when he realized the protests behind his presence in the Seat of Divine Foresight. Before, in his vague shadowy memories of a toddler, he remembered running to Jing Yuan eager to hug and to be carried by him. If he thought hard enough about it, he remembered being held while they both took a nap.  

That had all changed now. Yanqing needed to prove that all the efforts and accomplishments he made were his own and not some level of favoritism as rumor suggested. And yet there were times when he yearned for that affection again, wanting to be loved instead of having to stand on his own. It was a weakness he couldn’t allow himself however, not now.  

A sharp voice broke him out of his thoughts and away from the wooden practice sword he was with. “It’s the General’s little lap dog. How are you, lapdog?”  

Yanqing looked up to see a group of boys just a bit older than him, most of them larger than himself. He tried to remind himself that he needed to pick his battles and picking a fight with bullies was hardly one worthy of what Jing Yuan was teaching him. Instead, he chose to try and be polite. If they didn’t get the reaction maybe they’d just go away, and he could get back to his sword dances. “Can I help you?”  

“I doubt it.” Another boy spoke up. “You’d have to run back home to the general like a baby if we asked anything from you.”  

Yanqing felt his cheeks flush in embarrassed anger. He might have been small for his age, but he wasn’t a cowardly child to flee. 

“You have to wonder what he sees in his lapdog here to spend so much time with him instead of at the Seat of Divine Foresight.” The third smirked. “Maybe he really is going senile.”  

That was enough. Yanqing could take insults for himself. Words meant nothing, turned him into nothing they said. But nobody disrespected Jing Yuan in front of him like that. With a snarl, he leapt at the trio to strike with whatever he could, fists, sword, feet, you name it.  

In the end, despite his training and ferocity, he was still outnumbered and still smaller than his opponents. He was left to limp his way home after an approaching patrol spooked them. Yanqing had slipped away before the knights could see him and take him home themselves. He was only just holding back tears that threatened to fall, both from the pain of bruises as well as the shame of having lost. He hoped, at least, to compose himself before Jing Yuan saw the miserable shape he was in. He could probably come up with some excuse if he wasn’t on the verge of tears. He wouldn’t cry; he couldn’t. Not now.  

Unfortunately, his wishes were unheeded as he pushed the door open to let himself inside the estate. A low voice called out to him and given the concern that laced it, he knew that Jing Yuan had seen him. Looking up, he met the man’s eyes and swallowed. “S-sir.”  

Jing Yuan frowned as he stepped closer, leaning down to examine the appearing bruises, the split lip and the beginnings of a black eye. “What happened, Yanqing.” he asked softly.  

“I was just tr-training. It’s fine.” The boy answered, swallowing hard and trying to make his voice sound surer than he actually was.  

A sigh and a heavy hand gently reached out to cup his chin, turning his face to one side and then the other as the man examined him. “You were in a fight.” He rumbled. “What happened.”  

“No, it was just practice. I promise.”  

“Don’t lie to me, Yanqing.” A smile touched Jing Yuan’s lips as usual although it didn’t reach his eyes. Instead, there was only concern there. “I’m too old to not recognize the signs. Who did this to you?”  

With a sigh, Yanqing finally surrendered. His eyes remained fixed on the ground as he related what had happened although he omitted any names. Aeons forbid that word got out that he was a snitch. “...I’m sorry, sir. I couldn’t beat them.”  

Jing Yuan sighed again. “I care little about what public opinion is regarding me. People will say cruel things regardless of how you act, and I have lived long enough to learn that. You’d be wise to learn how to do the same if you want to spare yourself anguish.” He pulled Yanqing forward, enveloping him in an embrace; something he hadn’t done for a while. “Everything I do is for the safety of the Luofu and you.” 

The boy fleetingly considered pulling away but, in the end, chose to take the comfort offered, burying his face into his broad chest. Tears stung Yanqing’s eyes, a few managing to leak out and to dampen the shirt of the man who held him.  

The rumbling voice was more felt than heard, a promise that meant more to him than anything else at the moment. “I’ve got you, Yanqing. You don’t need to worry. You’ll always have a place with me.” 

[randomfoggytiger]

"You're in a Very Dark Place"

Fictober, Day 2

*-*-*-*-*

Inspired by @cecilysass's prompt: Melissa appears as a ghost to Mulder, which I know you hate because it breaks the ghost rules. But maybe you can think of a very pressing and “logical” reason.  (Cancer arc? As part of the Amor Fati dream sequence we didn’t see? When he’s in PTSD season 8?)

Took this in an Emily direction~.

*-*-*-*-*

“Fox.”

The fog of hard-won sleep dissipated instantly; and Mulder froze, eyes open, lying absolutely still as he listened. Only a handful of people called him by that name. 

“Sorry-- Mulder.” 

It couldn’t be. He sat up, scanning the gloam of the room for a familiar face. “Who is it?” 

“She’s going to call soon.”

“Who is this?” A flash of fear seized him: the threat of Syndicate clones or alien bounty hunters speaking through wires or around corners or from surveillance perches was as jarring as this voice, her voice, rousing him without warning, in warning. 

“She needs your help. They both need your help.”

Mulder bolted upright, hit his shins on the end table, backed up into the glare of the fish tank; then flinched away from it, back into the dim. “Melissa?” 

“She’s going to be calling soon,” the voice-- the late Melissa Scully-- echoed, behind him, from his answering machine. Its ember light glowed tellingly, this supernatural messenger bearing strange, impossible warnings. His hand was reaching towards it, was pressed against the speaker box before Mulder realized he’d moved. 

“Be prepared,” cautioned his partner’s sister; and the omen’s red eye dimmed and closed in the dark as the line disconnected. 

Mulder stood there, not understanding, while the silence grew oppressive and suffocating. He needed to play the recording back, needed the Gunmen to trace the call, needed to phone Scully-- knew, somehow, that she must be in trouble-- but he stood there instead, listening for her voice in the forgotten, routine noises of his apartment. The tank gurgled, eerily placid; the leather couch heaved, audibly reshaping its deflated seats; the floors remained silent, no footstep betraying nefarious purpose in the late or early hours. 

Then the phone rang, splitting the brewing calm and rupturing the fortifications against his adrenaline. His heart raced, his ears rang, and his fingers buzzed as Mulder jolted sideways, shook himself, and answered with more feeling than dignity. “Hello?”

“Mulder, it’s me.” It was Scully, her voice too high and too quick. 

“Merry Christmas, Scully,” he answered-- because what else was there to say?

*-*-*-*-*

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

Tagging @today-in-fic and @xffictober24.

[youling-the-ghost]

More handwritten fanfiction!!

I've decided to just write this entire bubbamiah fic in my notebook and honestly it's so much fun to write on paper. I've said this before but I genuinely recommend you try this out if you're a writer, even if it's just for a bit. It makes you think about your word choices more because it's so much harder to edit a mistake when it's on paper.

[blackwolfstabs]

BWS MINDTOBER 2024 ▸ Day II

Prompt: DOPPELGÄNGER

────────                                                                          GIFs is not mine

October 2nd | "why it didn't work, well, it's perfectly clear."

“I’m not gonna let what happened to us for three days define the rest of my life.”

They say letting go of the past is the first step of healing from trauma. I’m not sure about that. It’s easy to accept what happened, easy to see that you’re not the same person before it happened, and painfully easy to recognize how fucked up it left you. 

Things happen. 

“You can either run from it or learn from it.” “You need to let go of the past, so you can have a future.” “You’re better than that.” “It made you stronger.”

What happened, why it happened, and how it happened aren’t what hurts the most. It’s not getting over what happened to me. It’s not accepting it or letting go of it. 

What the fuck happens when everything is said and done, but it’s me that I can’t forget?

How do you let go of yourself without losing control? As if there was any control to begin with. If you were never in control but thought you were, how can you tell the difference? Learning? Learning means nothing if you don’t understand the concept and practice it. How do you practice without still lacking and being taken-a-fool of again. And again. And again.

“Practice makes perfect,” right? I was so gullible as a kid for believing that kind of crap.

People don’t practice. They make mistakes, and then they get better. Practice is just a term used to soften the reality of someone’s inability to do something.

If a cycle is what’s necessary to breakaway from the toxic memories imprinted on my already-fucked-up mind, then I’ll gladly decline. I appreciate the effort, but there’s no point in trying to fix something that was never good to begin with.

Because the fear and the paranoia that comes with what everyone calls “trauma” isn’t found on the streets of Woodsboro, where I once walked. It isn’t found in the ring of a cell phone or in between the lines of answering the phone. It isn’t in the shine of a blade or the coagulation of blood from a wound.

It’s in the windows I pass, the shadows I lead, and the mirrors I avoid. There’s no one else that can hurt me more than the person that’s tied to me for eternity. It’s a lock and key fit. Without me, that person can’t exist. 

She looks just like me, talks just like me, walks just like me. Everywhere I go, she’s the only one that follows. I could walk into No Man’s Land, to the end of the Earth, through the depths of Hell—she’ll be there. She’ll always be there. 

She’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

There are sheep and there are wolves, and when the wolf comes prowling at the door, only one can stop him. Call on the sheepdog. 

She is the Wolf. I am the Sheepdog.

But every dog descended from wolves—a doppelgӓnger, tamed by the dometic trends of society. There is no escaping the restlessness in her wild heart. It’s shown in her eyes, the windows into the soul. And those same eyes that look back at me in the mirror.

We’re the same. So, so long as I live, she will never die…

… And neither will the wolves.

[norbezjones]

Whumptober Day 2: Trust Issues (Romance The Backrooms)

Look, in case you couldn’t figure it out from June Of Doom & Whumptember, I like whump.  So I’ll be participating in @whumptober when I have the time/energy to.  I may use all of the day’s prompts, or I may use some of them.  We’ll see what happens.

Like usual, I will be doing these for the characters of my story Romance The Backrooms, a liminal space otome with 5 main love interests.  This is an original work, not fanfiction.

Enjoy!

(I also included the @fictober-event prompt today!)

Today’s Prompts: Trust Issues, amusement park, “it’s been a long time”

Characters: Glarence & Adiel

Other Info: When I saw the amusement park prompt, I looked into amusement park backrooms levels and found two interesting ones: Level 345, “Liminal Forest”, on the official backrooms wiki, and Level 999, “Karmaland Amusement Park”, on the unofficial one.  In the end, I decided to go with Level 345 for this story.

The idea behind this is that it takes place during Glarence & Adiel’s early days of travelling together.  They don’t fully trust each other yet, and it’s a little bit tense.

_________

“Where are we?” Adiel asked, looking around in confusion.

“Oh, great,” Glarence muttered, seeing the dilapidated amusement park up ahead.  “We’re in ‘Happy Land’.”

“What’s that?” Adiel asked him.

“It resembles a human amusement park, but all of the staff, rides, and attractions are made up of things from your memories—the place creeps me out,” Glarence said.  “Maybe we should go back, try to find a way to a different level—”

“Wait!” Adiel exclaimed.  “Are there any attractions that have exits to the frontrooms?”

Glarence thought for a minute.  “I think if you guess your weight correctly, you win an exit there—”

“Then we have to check it out!” Adiel exclaimed.  “Come on!”  He ran towards the entrance to the park.

“Exits don’t apply to entities, you moron!” Glarence shouted as he followed him.  “They only apply to humans!”

“Well, it’s worth checking it out to see if that’s true or not, right?” Adiel replied with a laugh.

Glarence sighed and shook his head, even as he followed the other entity into the park.  The stupid guy was going to get himself killed with that reckless attitude. . . Idiot.

Adiel found himself in the main area of the park, with a large ticket booth in front of him.  To his surprise, a passive Smiler was manning the desk—and specifically, if was the first Smiler he’d met in the backrooms, the being that confirmed to him that he wasn’t the only person here!  Right, Glarence did say this place was made up from your memories. . .

“Excuse me, but where is the attraction where I can guess my weight?” he asked the Smiler.

“If you want to participate in that attraction, you need tickets,” the Smiler told him, in a surprisingly human voice.

“How do I get tickets?”

The Smiler grinned.  “One memory is enough to pay for ten tickets.  What memory do you want to ante up?”

Before Adiel could reply, a rough hand grabbed his shoulder, and he turned around to see Glarence there.  “We don’t need more tickets, thanks,” Glarence snapped.  “Where’s the attraction?  I know the location changes for every person.”

The Smiler pointed to his right.  “Go all the way down that way until you see the ‘Weigh Or Pay’ sign.  It’s pretty big; you can’t miss it.”

“Thanks.”  Glarence put his arm around Adiel and led him in that direction.

“Do you have some extra tickets or something?” Adiel asked him curiously.

“Of course I do, idiot,” Glarence snapped.

“. . . What memory did you use to pay for them?

A pause.  And then: “Things I knew I wanted to forget.  Now come on.  I don’t trust you to go wandering on your own.  You’ll find trouble.”

As they walked through the park, Adiel passed by various entities he had met before, all passive and not hostile: hounds, clumps, wretches.  There were also some he didn’t recognize—perhaps they were from Glarence’s memories?

Finally, they reached the “Weigh Or Pay” sign.  There was a strange figure standing next to a scale, an anthropomorphic deer with a strange screen instead of a head.  The screens showed the moon blocking the sun in a solar eclipse, the rays of the sun tracing around the moon in an eerie light.  In addition, their antlers, ears, and screen head weren’t attached to the body or to each other, but were floating independently in place, separated and detached.

Adiel tried to give the creature a smile.  “You’re the Weigh Or Pay person?” he asked.

The creature didn’t respond to him.  It stared at Glarence, and when Adiel turned around, he saw that Glarence was staring back at the figure with a look of fear and surprise.

“Hello, Glarence,” the creature said.  “It’s been a long time.”

Glarence didn’t respond.  The creature laughed.  “So, you’re here to play my game,” it said, gesturing to the scale.  “I’ll let you play for a ticket.  If you win, an exit to the frontrooms is generated.  If you lose, you pay the price.  Understand?”

“What does ‘pay the price’ mean exactly?” Adiel asked hesitantly.

The creature laughed.  “You’ll find out if you lose.  Now, your ticket?”

Glarence muttered something to himself, then pulled a strange, blue-gray ticket from his pocket.  He handed it to the creature, who nodded in approval.  “Good.  Now, player, step up on the scale.”

Adiel walked forward, but turned around to look at Glarence.  The other entity was staring at the creature, but his gaze was now cold, detached.  When he saw Adiel staring at him, he folded his arms.  “Go on, play the game,” Glarence grunted.  “I’ll be here.”

“Ok,” Adiel said.  He stepped up onto the scale.

“Now, since this is a game for humans, we use human systems of weight measurement for this game,” the creature said to Adiel.  “Pounds or kilograms?”

“Um, pounds I guess?” Adiel replied.

“Very well.”  There was a pause.  Then, the moon on the creature’s screen moved, and a blinding sun looked straight at Adiel.  “Guess your weight, then.”

Adiel winced, shielding his eyes. The creature continued, “You are allowed to be 10 pounds off, bur that’s it.  So, go on.  Guess.”

The moon went back in front of the sun.  Adiel scrounge up the little he knew about weight from the humans & entities he’d met.  “120 pounds?” He guessed.

To his dismay, the creature responded with a laugh.  “Incorrect!” it exclaimed.  “So very incorrect.”

Claws grew from the creature’s furry hands.  “And now, I get to hurt you.”

Adiel stepped off of the scale, backing away.  “Come on, that’s not necessary, right?” he whimpered fearfully.  “Surely we can talk this out—”

The creature pounding on him, sending both of them to the ground.  There, Adiel was pinned, and the creature revealed it’s sun, shining down on Adiel as it raised its hand to strike him.  Adiel winced, turning away and closing his eyes as he prepared for the pain.

But instead, the creature was pushed off of him.  Adiel opened his eyes to see Glarence standing there, kicking the creature in the ribs.  Shrieks of pain left the creature’s mouth.  “You get the fuck away from him,” Glarence snapped, “or I’ll kill you.”

The creature looked up at Glarence and tilted its head.  “You can’t kill a memory, Glarence,” it said, sounding gleeful, “no matter how much your try to forget me.”

“Shut UP!” Glarence exclaimed.  He kicked the creature’s screen, and it went black.  The creature went limp on the ground.

Glarence turned to Adiel.  “Let’s go,” he snapped.  “Now.”

Adiel reluctantly followed his friend, but not before taking one last look at the creature.

[annoyed-galaxy]

Fictober 2024 ~ 31

"it's always been you"

Fanfiction: Dragon Age Happy Halloween and HAPPY VEILGUARD RELEASE DATE WOOOOOOOOOOOOO. I am very happy with this short Fictober because I think it was such a beautiful prompt to turn into a poem. One of my favorite things about the Dragon Age games is the companions and the friendships and romances that you make. So I think it was perfect to have this prompt highlight the beauty of love in Thedas between the heroes and their lovers. This is reflecting my romance choices I made throughout the games and how their storylines went. Can also be found on Ao3

From that tower

In the middle of Lake Calenhad,

To the battlefield

In the ruins of Ostagar,

It’s always been you. 

✧

From that village

Burning in wake of the Blight,

To the dark

Deepest parts of Kirkwall,

It’s always been you.

✧

From that clan

That wandered in the Free Marches,

To the Conclave

At the Temple of Sacred Ashes,

It’s always been you.

✧

Traveling from that forest,

To the underground kingdom,

To a temple for an Arl of your home,

It’s always been you. 

✧

To the Deep Roads,

Against the Qunari,

For the mages,

It’s always been you.

✧

With the mark,

Against an ancient magister,

At the edge of the world,

It’s always been you. 

✧

Crowned a king,

Dark ritual performed,

Blight ended,

It’s always been you. 

✧

Chantry gone,

Mages rebelled,

Knight-Commander turned,

It’s always been you. 

✧

Breach sealed,

Magister dead, 

Future uncertain,

It’s always been you. 

✧

From Fereldan,

In Ostagar and Redcliffe,

To Denerim,

It’s always been you.

✧

From Lothering,

To Kirkwall,

In Hightown and Darktown,

It’s always been you. 

✧

From the Dales,

To Haven, 

To Skyhold,

It’s always been you. 

✧

My prince,

My king,

My fellow Warden,

It’s always been you.

✧

My healer,

My abomination, 

My martyr,

It’s always been you.

✧

My templar,

My Commander,

My husband, 

It’s always been you. 

✧

No matter what comes,

This life or the next,

Whether the Veil falls, 

It’s always been you. 

[elvendara]

MYSME FICTOBER DAY 2

@mysme-fictober

Michael's Edition

2 October 2023—TOAD

“Shut up!” Yoosung threw his pillow towards the window knowing full well it did no good.

“Wha…what’s wrong?” Saeran turned towards his boyfriend in groggy confusion.

“That stupid toad!” Yoosung ran his fingers aggressively through his blond hair, resisting desperately his desire to yank his golden strands in frustration. “It’s been a week! I can’t get any sleep!” he swung his feet off the bed and stomped towards the window, throwing it open. The sound was louder and harsher.

Saeran sighed and left the warm and comfort of the bed as well. He yawned and stretched as he walked towards the younger man, setting his hand on his shoulder. “Come back to bed.” He whispered and kissed his neck.

“How can you sleep with this racket?”

“Just ignore it.”

“Ignore it? How? I’m going to find you, you little shit! And I’m going to squish you!” he yelled out of the window.

The toad croaked loudly as if calling his bluff. In fact, a cacofally exploded, as if it called in its friends to serenade the irritated blond. Saeran couldn’t help it and he let out a laugh.

“E tu Brute?” Yoosung scowled as he turned towards the red-head.

“I’m sorry, but that sounded planned! And I just got an image in my head of a toad in the center of other toads as they discussed how to annoy you the most.” He couldn’t stop laughing.

“I hate you.” Yoosung snarled as he grabbed his pillow and a blanket.

“Where are you going?” Saeran asked, closing the window and curtains tight.

“In the living room! Maybe I won’t be able to hear them in there. Good night!”

“Come on babe! Just put some music on, or your earplugs. Don’t leave me in this cold bed alone!” he pleaded.

Yoosung just waved at him as he walked out the bedroom door.

“Damn it!” Saeran frowned, glaring at the window as the chorus of toads continued their midnight concert.

In his bedroom, Saeyoung, Saeran’s twin and all around prankster, slept soundly, a soft smile on his face as he dreamed about the tiny speakers he’d set up outside of Saeran and Yoosung’s bedroom after Yoosung had complained about a single night of a toad keeping him awake.

[zarynathehunder4634]

Fictober 2023

Fandom:Jojo part 2

Fanfiction

Characters:Joseph and Ceasar

In this work I'm changing what happened at the end of part 2.Mentions of what was about to happen, spoillers.

Warning about blood and injuries.

Joseph comforts Ceasar

Day 7 Do you recognize this?

Months had passed now from the day that Joseph had won against the mighty Pillarmen... Months from the day Wammu had... Injured Ceasar to the brick of death.If they hadn't gotten there on time Ceasar would-Ceasar would have died on that day. Even if it had been months ago Joseph still had many and long nightmares... Nightmares of that day. Nightmares of him and Master Lisa Lisa not being fast enough. Fast enough to reach Ceasar. And this suffocating nightmares always woke him up, disabling him from falling asleep after them. Only his friends company made his fear of loosing his friend once and for all go away. But Ceasar... Wasn't awake to help him with them. No... Ceasar was the one in a coma and in need of help. But even if the blonde was in a coma even his presence was enough for Joseph to calm down and fall asleep. So this days Joseph found himself sleeping next to Ceasars bead the days that he had nightmares. And even if Ceasar was unconscious his presence was enough to soothe Josephs nightmares away. Some days when Joseph couldn't sleep right away again he watched the blonde from his chair while he slept. He looked so peaceful while he slept, Joseph had never seen him so peaceful. The bruenette couldn't help but talk and talk to him as he always did. Only this time Ceasar couldn't brush him off or walk away-Joseph talked about his day, sometimes his nightmares, sometimes joking arround. He couldn't help but expect Ceasar to wake up laughting. Which never happened. -Joseph couldn't help but want to hug Ceasar tightly either. He thought he had lost him back then. He wanted so badly to grasp his friend in a hug and never let go again. He wanted to keep him as close as possible. Sometimes he had to relish this overwhelming tears on Ceasars shoulder. It didn't matter that the blonde couldn't hear him, he just needed his presence for those times... Joseph tried, he really did to keep this smile on his face even if his friend was at a coma and at the first time it was easy but after some months... He couldn't take it anymore. Master Lisa Lisa and Suzie Q had seen it, his smile dropping... Disappearing. They tried, he had to say they did. They tried to cheer him up. But it wasn't helping. The months didn't stop passing and Ceasar... Hadn't woken up not even a little bit yet. One day Master Lisa Lisa had taken Suzie Q out for shopping and had left Joseph alone with Ceasar.... Joseph decided to try and spend the afternoon with Ceasar like they always did. He got back into Ceasars room finding him as usual unconscious laying on the bead.

Joseph:Hey Ceasarino Master Lisa Lisa and Suzie Q are out, they went for shopping so you know what this means right?(No answer as always. But it didn't matter. The bruenette just continued... As he always did.) That's right we have the hall place for ourselfs (he said enthusiastically) so... I don't know about you but there is an Italian movie on the TV that I want to see so how about we go to the living room and watch?

Again no answer.... This time the bruenette didn't wait for an answer and hugged the blonde close to him as he pulled him closer to himself and eventually out of the bead. Joseph now got up with an unconscious Ceasar in bridal style being on his arms. Ceasars head fell against the bruenetts chest with one of his arms falling down and the other above his abdomen. Joseph didn't move for a bit checking if he had caused pain to the blonde. Ceasar didn't bangs from the action not even a little bit. The good thing is that he didn't give any sights of pain either. Now that he was at his arms Joseph noticed that he was lighter. Sure he had noticed that Ceasar had lost weight all this months. But he didn't realise it was on this extend. Ceasar was almost weightless. Sure they were feeding him through a tube and sure it wasn't much but he didn't expect it to have affected him to this extend. Joseph now took him towards the living room where he had opened the TV and had made warm chocolate... For the both of them. The movie was starting and Joseph sitted down on the sofa now and moved Ceasar so he would be laying on the bruenetts feet while he was laying on the sofa.

Joseph:look, the movie is starting(he said as he took a seep of his chocolate) Hey Ceasar I made some for you too

It turned out that an hour later the movie was boring. Nothing Indresting had happened and half the movie was over already. Joseph sighted. So much for the movie. He reached for the computer next to him when he felt Ceasars head move on his legs and he stopped to look at his friend. The blonde had sifted his head to the side and was frowning. Oh no. Had he done something to agrevate his injuries? Without wanting to? This was bad! What was he supposed to do now? -Green eyes blinked open with deficulty and fighted to stay awake. The bruenette couldn't believe his eyes as he saw those green eyes finally open, after so long. He had missed looking into them so long. So, so long. Those eyes where also trying to blink into focuse he soon realised as Ceasar brought his head upwards again. And Joseph realised he had to get the blontes attention if he didn't want him falling back asleep. So he waved a hand above those green eyes.

Joseph:C-Ceasar? Hey Ceasar

(No answer. Ceasar continued blinking unfocused. Joseph now that he looked into them could see that they were fixed in pain while they were unfocused)

Joseph tried clapping his fingers together to grab his attention now:Ceasar? Hey Ceasarino?, earth to Ceasar? Ceasarino?

The added sound seemed enough to grab the blendes attention as now those eyes focused on him

Joseph:Ceasar? Ceasar can you hear me?

Ceasar:Y... Yes(he tried to say in between coughts, his voice barely getting out, no doubt due to no use)

Joseph: C-Ceasar?

The bruenette said, he couldn't believe what he was seeing. He couldn't believe that Ceasar had finally, finally woken up after all this months. Tears were gathering on his eyes and he didn't realise when they had dripped down from his face to Ceasars. The other man was startled by the different touch so the bruenette used his free from the chocolate hand to wipe them away. That seamed to grab Ceasars attention fully as now his eyes came up and focused on his own.

Joseph:C-Ceasar? Do-Do you remember me?

Ceasar:Huh? Afcors (a cough) I remember(another cough) you idiot(he tried to say with a raspy voice)

Joseph couldn't help but relish a relaxing breath to that

[thefictioness]

2. Spiders

This story is part of a fictober challenge. Click here for more information.

He liked his spot. London was often busy. Too busy for his taste. The city was chock full of residents, and still there was room for plenty of visitors and tourists. They would take in the sights of the capitol, like the Westminster Abbey and the Tower. They would walk along the Thames, looking for the finest bakeries and afternoon tea treasures of the city. And of course, a trip through London wouldn’t be complete without some window shopping. Such was mundane life around the city. But for his shop, located more remotely, people would rarely window shop. It would actually be a bit of a morbid idea to come there without a purpose. If it were up to him, he would rather have no customers at all, but that simply wasn’t possible. People who would visit his shop would often do so with just one goal in mind. Bury their dead in the most respectful way. Today was another day of necessary customers. He would welcome them in a solemn manner. Take their requests. Make measurements for a coffin. Arrange appointments and speeches. The interior of his shop reflected the mood of each conversation. Grave, and severe. Until one of his customers started sneezing. “Bless you,” he said. “Why thank you. It’s quite dusty here.” “Dusty?” Perhaps he didn’t notice because his eyesight was so poor, or because breathing worked differently for him, but he hadn’t noticed his shop becoming this dusty. So today, after the streets became deserted, he got busy with cleaning. He dusted the shelves, removed the stains from the windows outside and swept the floor. He was about to sweep a corner in the back, when he noticed something moving. He crouched down to get a better view with his eyesight. It was a spider’s web, containing two spiders. He was about to get the brush of the broom to remove them, when he saw them huddling together. He shifted so that he was sitting cross-legged on the floor. “You know, we Shinigami are told that all human life is valuable. But I guess that goes for spiders, too.” Of course the spiders couldn’t understand him, but it felt comforting talking to them. “I never thought of it that way before, but serving as a Shinigami made me see it more clearly. Well… Figuratively speaking then hehehe….” The spiders sat there, not understanding his words and unmoving. “You’re a family, aren’t you?” He continued. “I once knew a family. A very nice gentleman and his extraordinary woman…” He felt tears welling up. He blinked them away. “And their children…” He sat there reminiscing for a while. Then, he stood up. “I won’t let you be eradicated in the same brutal way. Let’s take you outside.” He gently scooped the spiders up and walked to the front door. He put his hands down on the porch and watched as the spiders crawled out of his hands onto the pavement. “Ta ta now!” He waved after them. Upon re-entering, he glanced over to the picture frame on his desk. The thick layer of dust hid the faces of the people underneath them, but he had never forgotten their appearances. He dreamt about them at night. And though most of them were wiped out, he thought as he picked up the frame and rubbed his thumb on a spot near the center, there was one still alive and breathing on his own. The youngest. “If you’re not careful, my Earl, you’ll end up just the same. I cannot let that happen.” With that, he put down the frame and walked out of the shop through the back.

[alethehero-blog]

Day 2: "it's been a long time"

Sitting in the balcony had become comforting. In a way, even before everything unfolded, the plants that greeted Calais in it every time they walked in, were always a source of respite but the sensation had become stronger now. The apartment felt crowded now and the list of things to do had grown. Maybe tripled. The plants, however, demanded just as much as they had always done.

They could feel themselves sighing as they sat down. Today was very much not a good day and being alone at last was something Calais was surprised to notice, they'd been yearning for.

A familiar soft thing approached.

"Oh, you are here. I was wondering if you had been hit by a car or something."

The cat, a cute adult tabby, seemed almost offended at the suggestion it could be killed, but it approached anyway, demanding to be pet. Calais didn't need to be asked twice.

The animal was a feature of the apartment, ever since the first day living there. It would wander around in the vicinity and sometimes get close. Even closer as Calais started to leave a bowl with water and sometimes even treats. The building didn't allow pets, but since the cat didn't really live there, it felt like a small act of rebellion to give it something every now and then. The animal didn't have a name in Calais' mind yet.

"You've missed out on so much. You wouldn't believe it if I told you."

The cat purred. The scratches near its ears were something it clearly enjoyed. It even laid down on Calais' lap and they allowed it to become comfortable.

"You just know when to show a guy a good time, don't you? Always arriving whenever I need a pick me up. I didn't even know I needed one this time."

The animal simply allowed Calais to keep spoiling it.

"I'm in too deep. I don't even know what comes next. Fuck, I don't even know if I should tell Pops about this. Or how." Calais even got a little playful, using a dried leaf for the cat to chase. "I guess I'll just tell him I can't make it home for the break or something. He'll be heartbroken but it's better than trying to explain."

Calais yawned. It was maybe four or five in the morning, and tomorrow was going to be tough. They needed to sleep, even if for a couple hours.

"I've missed you. Man, I wish you could live here."

The cat, of course, didn't answer, but stayed for a little longer before going back to wandering in the rooftops. Calais felt ready to deal with the ever growing list of things to do, even if they weren't quite there yet.

[lady-ashfade]

Day 2 Of Fictober

Poison

Yandere! Rhaenrya Targaryen x Daughter!Reader.

Ask: Can you write a platonic yandere mother Rhaenyra fic where she secretly gives her daughter non fatal doses of poison so that she is to sick to leave Dragonstone when its time for her to marry her betrothed.

Warnings: Yandere behavior, Over protective, over bearing parent, being poisoned. Poison, family full of yanderes, daemon being included because it fits.

The day you were born Rhaenrya swore she could hear the gods sing in harmony together. Your cries sounded like heaven to her ears, the little girl who belong to her. Y/n, the first daughter of Rhaenrya Targaryen. “Beautiful,” she brushed the hair and blood off of your forehead and placed a kiss.

“My sweet girl.”

You had stoped crying when you came into contact with her skin and warmth, she was safe and familiar. Rhaenrya had blessed with a boy and she was grateful to have two beautiful children. But her first born had dark hair and fair light skin, you had her features of paler skin and silver hair. Your mother knew she needed to protect you from the darkness of the world and keep you innocent.

Each day you were at the queens side or in your own room. She would take her younger son to see you and get you both comfortable with one another. Jace couldn’t stop smiling and clapping when he saw you, he’s such a good older brother. As the years passed by you grew to need your mother or your brothers, being dependent on her. Where the princess went you weren’t far behind in a small dress and coping her.

But now it was the day she had dreaded for your whole life. You being betrothed to a lord far away and not with her.

“But mother, I need silver.” You huffed as you pressed the dress to your body. A smile on your cheeks as you swing yourself from side to side in the mirror. “Silver will match his clothes.” She cringed at your giggling and delighted to be married off, to leave her behind. A daughter should want to stay with her mother as long as she could, even cry when leaving her mother.

“You are stressing dearest,” her hands stopped your hands and looked at you through the mirror and smiled. “No need not to change for a man, not when you’re already perfection.” Her lips met your cheeks and you laugh at her sweetness and affection. You turned around and took her back into your arms and hugged her close.

“Only because you’re my mother and taught me every I know. I will make you proud, mother. This marriage will help our family with the whispers,” a hushed tone of the mention of rumors spreading around the realm of you and your brothers birth. “Promise.” Her chest loved how you smiled and wanted to help her, her sweet girl.

But it was foolish to think she’d let you go. And that’s why she needed to keep you by her side since you were so naive.

She watched as you laughed with your brothers at the table and ate your favorite meal. How could she let this go? As soon as you lifted your cup to your mouth she was ready for the moment to happen. Daemon by her side keeping a eye on you too as he help with the poison, a maester waiting outside the door. A few seconds later you began to cough and play it off for a few seconds until it became hard for you to breathe.

“Someone help her!” Rhaenrya acted the part of a scared mother and it wasn’t all a lie. Seeing you so panicked and scared, grabbing ahold of her as if it was the last time. Of course she hated it but this was for the best. No one would ever expected the woman who loved her children above all else to poison them. Daemon had a “search” for the person who did it, and a servant was kill for the crime. A innocent life was worthless to them when it came to you.

A few days later you awaken from your rest and saw your mother beside your bed as she hummed. “Mother?” You called out with a horse voice and she jumped up to take you in her arms. The relief spread on her face as she kissed your head repeatedly and whisper prayers to the gods. “I was so worried.” You held onto her but she got a cup and lifts it to your lips. The first thing was to clear your throat and get it back.

Sipping the drink you smile and lean back down, looking at her loving. “Please tell me I wasn’t out to long, Sir Roderick will be saddened at my lack of letters.” It went unnoticed that she gripped the sheets and a quick smirk that she turned into a smile. He will have to find another bride to have because you’re never leaving the castle.

“I’m sure you will recover soon.” The cup was set back down as she smiled at the bottom where a powder was seen. Rhaenrya kept you on a small amount of poison every week to keep you from getting around on your own or to long. Something to make your body weak without her help.

“Now rest up, my sweet girl.”

[underratedbananawerewolf]

Fictober Day 3

Prompt 3: "Okay, show me." 

Fandom: Honkai Star Rail 

Rating: G 

Warnings: None 

Since bringing Yanqing home with him, Jing Yuan had had to make some adjustments to his life; ones that he hadn’t made when he first brought Mimi home. But a toddler was much different than a kitten and he couldn’t just leave the care of the boy to someone else, not after the whole ordeal of adopting him in the first place.  

So, in the end, paperwork had come home with him so he could work while watching Yanqing. The Seat of Divine Foresight was hardly the place for a baby, especially one who had just learned that he could run. Still, the general couldn’t deny that he enjoyed the happy giggles as he chased Yanqing during the times he could spare. The happiness in the child’s eyes lifted some of the weight that had settled on his shoulders for longer than he cared to remember.  

Still, there was one facet of his work that the man could not neglect, nor could he have a baby get in the way of. Jing Yuan led the soldiers of the Luofu as a war general and that meant he needed to stay in peak condition. Lazy he might be in everything else, but it didn’t tend to show in his training. He was far too disciplined, and he knew the folly of being lax when it came to fighting skill.  

IN those early days it was easy to take up his glaive while Yanqing was napping but as he grew older the need for mid-day naps diminished. It was far harder to slip away now before the child came looking for him. Yanqing may have only been three, but he was already showing a remarkable level of intelligence. It made keeping him behind closed doors long enough to be out of danger far more difficult than Jing Yuan could ever imagine. There were times when he questioned his judgement in adopting this tiny menace but the bright smile and large gleaming eyes when turned towards him always chased those thoughts.  

Finally deciding that the best thing to do with Yanqing was sit him down and explain why he had to be careful around the glaive or any other weapon he might find. He might as well try even though he had to wonder just how much the boy grasped.  

Shockingly, perhaps, Yanqing obeyed to the letter. He sat on the bench in the garden, simply watching Jing Yuan’s every move with an intensity that most toddlers didn’t possess.  

It was one afternoon when Jing Yuan had finished his workout, taking a moment to drink the water he had set down when he looked down to see Yanqing standing at his feet and tugging on his pant leg. “Yes, Yanqing?”  

“Look!” The boy held up a stick he had found, one that was nearly as tall as himself and possessed two offshoots that made it look like a crude sword. “I can fight too, Baba.” He grinned up at the man.  

Jing Yuan couldn’t help the smile that he gave in return, the sunshine in that childish smile contagious. Bapa. The name always made his heart melt just a little bit, the sting of a tear or two felt in his eyes. Never had he imagined in his long life that he would be called that. His life had never been granted the opportunity for a family and, he had to admit, he never really pursued it. That dream wasn’t his. He had others. And yet here he was, an old man even by Xianzhou standards and he had a son that lit up his life in ways he hadn’t expected. What started out as a debt to repay no longer felt like a duty but a privilege.  

“Fight like me, huh?” He teased. “You must have been practicing hard then.”  

Yanqing nodded vigorously. “For days and days and days.” He smiled again. “You were working.”  

“Ah, I should be worried now that you know how to sneak around me.”  

That brought about another giggle. “I’m very very quiet.”  

“You must be for me to not notice.” Jing Yuan had noticed Yanqing had left, of course, but he figured the boy had simply gone off to play. It wasn’t as if there was anyplace he could reach that would endanger him. The thought that he had gone to imitate him of all people was a surprise. “Alright, if you can fight like me,” He smiled fondly at his son. “Then show me.” 

[randomfoggytiger]

"Regardless of His Actions Last Night"

(Fictober, Day 2)

Queequeg may have been an undisciplined little puffball allergic to six different brands of dog food, an indoor voice, and the realization of the near fatal consequences of his choice to chase after an alligator, but a disagreeable traveling companion (Scully asserted) he was not. 

Her mother managed him more during the last two years than she did-- not that Scully was thrilled with her own negligence, but the demands of the job kept her hopping from car to plane and coast to coast-- and had happily lugged Queequeg around with her wherever she went (empty-nester and solitary widow that she was.) As such, he was quite the seasoned traveler; and Maggie boasted about him so often that her daughter decided to bring him along on a much-needed vacation.  

So, one fine morning-- wind whipping through his fur as he tried to stretch his head further above the convertible door-- Queequeg found himself cruising shotgun along the highway, alive and dangerous and as eager for trouble as Scully was to escape it. 

*****

Scully could barely hear Mulder’s impish finger-wagging over the phone while Queequeg growled and barked and lunged ineffectually in his seat at a random cat lounging, unbothered, by the gas station entrance. 

“Queequeg, no-- no, he hasn’t, Mulder; and he won’t. He’s a good dog. Queequeg! Stop that.” 

Mulder made sure to caveat his very important statistic on vehicular decapitation with a cheeky footnote: "But I don't know if the data applies to two-foot cannibals, Scully. And if my guess is correct, it’s because those statisticians were clever enough to leave their yappers at home.”  

“I think you got the height of the yappers mixed up, Mulder.” And she hit the end button, hypothesizing that Queequeg was likely just hungry. “Lunch,” she muttered, glad that there was no one else around to be bothered until she’d paid and left. 

*****

Queequeg almost broke from Scully's grasp, yanking the full length of the leash in his attempts to run across the parking lot. His earlier disgruntled yaps shifted to lapdog spit-snarls; and he completely ignored her commands until one of the inconspicuous cars pulled out and away, a girl and her doll staring back blankly from their window. He calmed then, victorious; and followed Scully placidly to the door. 

Where they found chaos. 

While Scully attempted to sort the mayhem of injured, moaning customers and the arriving, superstitiously-inclined cops, Queequeg licked the blood dripping off the hand of the most unfortunate victim a little too eagerly.

***** 

At the police station, Scully split her attention in half: disproving Mulder’s assumptions of her assumptions (and deflecting his overblown proposal) while simultaneously keeping her eye on Queequeg. Content after chowing down his premium soggy lunch and bored from satisfying all his curiosities around the office, he clicked his little nails over to a pile of coats someone left for him and plunked eagerly down for an afternoon nap. She watched longingly as the little dog relaxed, not a care in the world as he stretched and shifted.

A bath. That would hit the spot. A long one. 

Hopefully Queequeg wouldn’t find something dirty and inconvenient to stick his nose into before the weekend was over. 

*****

The next morning, Scully had to leave him moaning and wailing outside the crime scene with a buoyantly even-keeled police officer. By the time her and Jack Bonsaint’s theories were interrupted by Mulder’s opportune phone call, Queequeg's howls had shifted from woefully complaining to bitterly angry. 

“I’m not going to feel sorry for him, Scully. He ate my Christmas hat.” 

“Might I remind you,” she replied, shoving one hand up to cover her other ear, “that you left it on the floor with your running clothes after I’d warned you he likes to sniff out and chew dirty socks?” 

The argument, they both knew, was unproductive: Mulder only clung to this particular grievance because the Lone Gunman still made snide remarks about him ‘tossing aside the gift of friendship’ every time they met up (especially Frohike, who had taken one look at the pin-striped monstrosity he'd called “a runner’s cap” and knew Mulder would like it. He had.) 

“Yeah? What about that new silk pajama set he tore into?” 

“I don’t know--” there was a short pause as Scully walked back outside and hunched down, “--ask him.” 

Queequeg bellowed full force into the phone. 

Mulder got the message. 

*****

The rest of the investigation was a repeat of their normal cohabitation-- Scully was roped into work and Queequeg was forced to stay behind with a third party. Mulder, of course, did not lose sight of that fact on their last call, teasing her about being a woman of routine.

He stopped the ribbing, however, when she didn't respond to his banter. “Scully? You there?”

She shook her head, trying to catch the thread of their conversation. “Yeah, yeah I heard you.” 

“Is there something wrong?”

After a moment of deliberation, Scully stepped out of the squad car and closed the door behind her. “It’s just… is it fair to him, Mulder?”

“...Fair to who?” 

“To Queequeg. I mean, I’ve owned him for nearly two years now, but I don’t really own him, do I? Mom cares for him while I'm out of town, and I only really see him between cases--”

“He tagged along with us that one time. And he seems to be eating up your trip.” 

“--But is it fair? After Christmas….” 

More silence settled-- weighty and somber-- while they both carefully readjusted to the turn of the conversation. 

“After Christmas, I was going to make changes in my life. I had made them. But even after--” Scully pivoted away from that consuming memory, “-- after Emily... I never considered keeping those changes for Queequeg's sake. Was that fair of me?” 

Jack Bonsaint knocked considerately on the windshield. “Agent Scully? Any leads?” 

***** 

Oblivious to the horror show unfolding across town, Queequeg tore away the plastic from a complimentary bar of soap and sank his teeth into the old lady smell of dime store lavender. He then decorated his triumph all over the floor. 

***** 

“Well-behaved” had turned into “good as new” had turned into “we’ll handle it”; and Scully’s weekend closed amicably, both professionally and financially. At least Jack and the force were pitching in to cop the damages.

She’d buy him a poster, she decided, securing her rascally co-pilot into place before striding to the driver’s side door. 

And she’d at least gotten her bath. 

But she’d never tell Mulder about what happened to her new tourist shirt.

*****

Dedicated to @welsharcher's curiosity about Mulder's strange... hat (here) in "Christmas Carol" and @agent-troi's generously donated prompt ("Queequeg tags along on cases and gets into mischief") that @perpetually-weirdening seconded.

Tagging @today-in-fic and @xffictober2023 and @fictober-event

**Note**: If the Tales of Queequeg becomes a series, I will call them The Remains of the Remains of the Day. That is all.

Thank you for reading~

Enjoy!

[farfromstrange]

Fictober 2024 [Announcement and Masterlist]

I am so happy to finally announce to you: Fictober 2024! I wanted to do something different from my Kinktober last year, so I decided to mix fluff with smut instead! Why just give you porn when I can also give you some romance? Like, yes we want to be railed, but we want to be loved, too.

Once again, I will be writing for our boy Matt Murdock only because I am most comfortable with him. So, a very happy Daredevil Fictober to you all!

31 prompts. 31 days.

Sound good to you? Then I encourage you to join me for this year’s Fictober! If you want to be tagged for this event and you aren’t already on my usual tag list (which I will most certainly be using), let me know in the comments!

I’m so excited for this because there has been quite the writing drought in my life these past couple of months. I can’t wait, and if you want to participate in this by reading or even writing yourself, feel free to do with this as you will. October is by far the most exciting month for fic writers and readers. It’s like Christmas, only… sluttier? Anyway.

Happy Fictober everyone!

Under the cut, you will find all the prompts I will be using, including the schedule for this year. Dive in, or wait and be surprised on October 1st…

(Edit: This post will now also function as the Masterlist for this event, so all fics I post can be found here!)

FICTOBER 2024.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader | ✨ = smut; 🌼 = fluff.

October 1st: Baking Cookies 🌼 [1/10/2024]

October 2nd: Phone Sex ✨ [2/10/2024]

October 3rd: Finding a pet 🌼 [3/10/2024]

October 4th: Thigh riding ✨ [4/10/2024]

October 5th: Back scratches 🌼 [5/10/2024]

October 6th: Fingering ✨ [6/10/2024]

October 7th: Morning After ✨🌼 [7/10/2024]

October 8th: Sex Toys ✨ [9/10/2024]

October 9th: Love confessions 🌼 [9/10/2024]

October 10th: College!Matt ✨🌼 [11/10/2024]

October 11th: Girl Dad 🌼 [11/10/2024]

October 12th: Rainy Days 🌼

October 13th: Lingerie ✨

October 14th: Sickfic 🌼

October 15th: Mutual masturbation ✨

October 16th: Touch starved 🌼

October 17th: Face sitting ✨

October 18th: Mirror Sex ✨

October 19th: Nightmares 🌼

October 20th: Black Suit ✨

October 21st: Spanking ✨

October 22nd: Aftercare 🌼✨

October 23rd: Comfort/Crying 🌼

October 24th: Against a wall ✨

October 25th: Love Language 🌼

October 26th: Exhibitionism ✨

October 27th: Slow dancing 🌼

October 28th: Face fucking ✨

October 29th: Roleplay/religion kink ✨

October 30th: Somnophilia ✨

October 31st: Shibari Ropes ✨

[intimacyequalsdeath]

Bubz's Slasher Fictober Day 17 : (Pumpkin Pie NSFW) Thomas Hewitt

Day 2 of week 3! I hope you've all been enjoying Fictober 2024 so far, I've been so proud of all my work I've been putting into it. Stay tuned as usual for more to come!

Notes: Minors DNI, NSFW, Canon typical anything to do with the character, movie or game. Porn without Plot. Female anatomy implied but never explicitly discussed.

Support Me: KO-FI

"Hi Tommy"

You greet softly, heading down the creaky stairs into the cold basement. Fall had finally hit Texas about as much as it would ever hit but despite this the basement was still freezing.

Tommy turns and gives you a grunt in greeting.

"Are you not cold at all Tommy? Why aren't you wearing the jacket Mama gave you?"

He grunts with a shrug this time, you knew Tommy had always ran more hot, even when the basement was this cold. Tommy's a big guy, who doesn't let a little cold bother him.

"Tommy I know you-"

Tommy interrupts you nagging at him like Luda Mae does by grabbing you by the waist and sitting you on the table in front of him. He brings a rough hand down to the front of your shorts and cups your crotch.

'Tommy what are you doin'?"

Tommy slips his hand under your waistband and toys with you. You bite your lip as your eyes meet his brooding ones covered slightly by his shaggy brown hair. Tommy tugs your shorts down your legs and you bent your knees, placing your feet on the table so he can have better access.

Thomas leans in, licking a stripe up your core, your head falls back against the wall behind the work table as your hands grip your knees so hard your fingers turn white. You're desperate to hold yourself exposed and at Tommy's will.

He presses one of his large fingers against you before pushing it past your entrance.

"Oooohhh" You gasp

Tommy works the one finger in and out of you a few times, his eyes watching your face carefully. When he decides that he's seen enough he slips a second one in to you.

"Another"

Tommy peers up at you, with a look that reads "You sure?", You nod desperately. Tommy does as you wish, pushing a third finger inside of you. When he's satisfied with you adjusting to it he begins to move all three fingers in and out of you. You run a hand through your hair and thrust against his hand as he thrusts it against you.

The cold of the basement quickly being forgotten as your body is now on fire. All you can feel and hear is the sound and sensation of Tommy's fingers fucking you.

The sound of the basement door swinging open startles you both and you quickly move to cover up. Drayton makes his way down the stairs right when you get your pants back on.

He gives the two of you a look but decides to ignore it.

"Ya'll need to get your asses up there and help mama with dinner. She's been callin' you for fuckin 30 minutes it seems."

He snaps before turning and heading back upstairs. You shoot a nervous smile in Tommy's direction. Tommy gives a huff and an eye roll before heading upstairs, you follow behind him with a chuckle.

If Tommy didn't wanna wear a jacket in the basement, there were other ways you could warm each other up.