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eruden-writes · 8 months

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Graveyard Smash

Just a dirty little tale that happens around Halloween. Fair warning, I did not re-read this or edit. This was all pretty much written in 1 sitting yesterday.

I have ideas for 2 more installments, but not sure if I'll get to them.

A witch pushes a cemetery's ghosts too far and the the resident "keeper" - a ghoul - decides she needs to pay penance.

tw: noncon/dubcon, spanking, caning, restraint.

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Read in full on Patreon.

x.x.x.x.x

Dark and brisk, it was the perfect October night to stroll through a local graveyard. The half moon hung low in the sky, behind blue-tinged clouds. Light pollution made it hard to see the stars, though Tillie had an easy time maneuvering the cemetery. Her cell phone’s flashlight helped, but so did her sense of confidence when walking between tombstones.

Having recently moved to the area, Tillie thought to cross off “meeting the local spirits in the cemetery” off her list. The night was relatively temperate and it was the spooky season, after all.

As such, she found herself conversing with the spirit of a young woman, Abigail, dressed in 1800s garb.

An expression of increasing discomfort spread over Abigail’s face as the conversation continued. Until she eventually whined, “I don’t wish to speak to you any longer.”

“I just have a few more questions.” Tillie raised a finger up, looking imploringly at the ghost. She had already asked about Abigail’s family life and what led up to her death. With each question, the phantom’s frown grew and a distant look sunk into her eyes.

“Enough! Please!” Abigail spun away, a cold breeze kicked up around her. She floated away from Tillie, her hands pressed to her ears though it would do nothing to abate the witch’s curiosity.

Undeterred, Tillie followed after Abigail, notebook and pencil poised in her hands. “Please, did you have any suspicions that your husband would kill you? Did you try speaking to your family about it?”

From a near distance, Mortem watched the scene play out. Though his beaky mask obscured his expression, a displeased aura emitted around him.

The figure made a motion with his hand and glowing green skeletal arms shot up from the ground. Tillie yelped, dropping her journal and pencil as bony fingers curled around her wrists. The disembodied arms tugged until she was embarrassingly bent over a tombstone, the hem of her dress riding high. Tillie flushed, feeling the cool breeze caress along her legging- covered upper thighs. Her plush stomach cushioned her from the stone, but the overall position was still awkward.

“What’s the meaning of this,” Tillie demanded, struggling against her bony binds. Her boots kicked out, trying to gain leverage against the tombstone. Cold dread drizzled through her as someone spoke up behind her.

“You have disturbed the spirits in their final resting place.” Stepping from his shadowy perch, Mortem neared the witch. He hadn’t meant to drape her over a tombstone, but he couldn’t say he necessarily regretted it as his gaze trailed the curvature of their rear.

The black dress she wore was relatively short, with lacy sleeves, but she maintained her modesty with her leggings. A necklace with a star and dangling crescent earrings hinted to what Mortem could smell on her. The scent of a witch.

She had traipsed into his graveyard and introduced herself - Tillie Ravenswood, she/her and they/them - to any spirits she could find. Each discussion led to her overwhelming the spirit until they dissipated into the void. Then she would saunter off to find another victim.

“I was merely asking questions!” This was ridiculous! She had simply been asking the spirits questions, which is what she had done in her hometown. Albeit, those ghosts were used to nosy witches, since she and her family had grown up with them. A small bead of guilt swelled up in her chest at that thought. Had she gone too far?

Her struggles appeared to falter, rousing Mortem’s curiosity. No matter, she had already issued damage. Taking another step forward, he continued, “In incessantly doing so, you have upset many residents within these hallowed grounds. A punishment is necessary.”

“Excuse me?” She jerked, trying to look over her shoulder at whoever spoke. She caught a glimpse of a long dark coat encasing a tall, lithe figure; a mask and wide-brimmed hat reminiscent of a plague doctor. However, with the darkness, it was hard to discern details beyond the silhouette.

It had been a long time since a witch meandered into his graveyard. Even longer still since he felt the stirring of carnal attraction. Perhaps that was merely thanks to the time of the year, when the population at large turned their mind to ghouls and ghosts. Acknowledgement fueled power and power could make a being do unusual, ill-thought things. Which was where Mortem found his thoughts heading.

Mortem flipped her skirt up, running a gloved spindly finger along the curve of her ass. Tillie squeaked, mortified heat licking up her cheeks. “What do you think you’re doing!”

“Eliciting penance,” replied Mortem, removing his coat and rolling up the sleeves of his button-up shirt. He kept his gloves on, tugging on them to be sure they would not slip before setting his hat atop his folded coat.

“Excuse yo—” Tillie didn’t get a chance to finish her defiant statement when Mortem’s hand struck her rump. Her words dwindled into a confusing groan, a mix of pain and pleasure. The sound repeated as he spanked her again and again, his open palm stinging across her skin. Tillie gasped with each hit, squeezing her thighs close together as an involuntary whine wheedled from her throat.

“Ah, you don’t sound penitent. Perhaps more drastic measures?” Amusement colored Mortem’s tone as he watched the squirming witch.

She didn’t like the cruel smile she heard in the figure’s voice. A second later, her suspicions were confirmed as something blunt struck her fleshy ass cheeks. The breath escaped her in a sharp exhale, her back arching and her head tossing backward. Her toes curled as her legs straightened, unintentionally pushing her rear higher up.

Mortem gave an amused huff before bringing his cane down against the witch’s rear again. The way she jolted at the impact, a delicious groaning-gasp escaping her, made dangerous feelings swarm through his body. He hadn’t felt so delighted in such a very long time.

He stepped back, watching her gasp down breaths. Her face flushed a pleasant pink and her legs trembled slightly. On the air, he could taste something heady, something alluring. It made him hungry for more.

In a droll tone, he sighed, “Oh no, you’re enjoying this too much.”

“I assure you, I’m not,” Tillie panted, though even her own tone sounded uncertain in her ears. She couldn’t necessarily say the pain was bad. In fact, it sent tingles coursing over her body. Her nipples stiffened under the fabric of her bra and heat churned in her center. Part of her didn’t mind admitting to enjoying the treatment, even as she experimentally tugged at the bony hands holding her wrists.

“Another tactic then.” Mortem grasped the tight pants she wore under her dress, yanking the waistband up and over her round derriere. He peeled the leggings and her underwear lower, until swaths of her skin lay bare under his eye. Unable to help himself, Mortem ran two gloved fingers along her slit, excitement pulsing through him as she flexed.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Tillie swallowed, still not entirely sure how she felt about the situation. The spanking and caning, though not on the up-and-up, hadn’t been terrible. The strikes could have been much worse and she still wasn’t sure who - or what - she was dealing with.

She highly doubted they were a sorcerer or warlock. They certainly weren’t a spirit.

Oooh, no. They did not feel like a wispy spirit or phantom. They were too warm, too firm to be anything incorporeal, Tillie thought. Which meant they had to be a ghoul, which honestly didn’t narrow down the list of abilities or weaknesses. Ghoul had increasingly become a catch-all term for any number of spirits or entities, hybrid or atypical.

Unaware of Tillie’s assessing thoughts, Mortem leaned over her. His hands slid up her sides, his chest pressed to her back. He palmed both her breasts in his still-gloved hands, excited by how her breath caught. Feeling bold, he tugged the neckline of her dress down, scooping one hand into the cup of her bra.

Tillie arched into his touch as his thumb skimmed her hardened nipple. Mirroring his words, his fingers dug into her breast as he said, “I will squeeze penance from you yet.”

At the touch, she exhaled sharply before breaking into a laugh. For whatever reason, she didn’t feel altogether frightened of them. “Are you sure it’s not me who will be squeezing something from you?”

“Aren’t you cheeky?” Mortem leaned further over, letting his mask of a face hover near her shoulder. His hands slid away from Tillie, unfastening his trousers enough for his arousal to escape.

Just as he moved, a cloud puttered away from the moon, shining fresh light down onto the graveyard. Tilting her head, Tillie got a much better look at her companion.

As their silhouette had suggested, they wore a plague doctor mask. At some point, they had divested themself of their coat and hat. If there were any other details, she couldn’t see. What she thought was a black bodysuit seamlessly tucked up to the mask and extended below their shirt. Tillie thought she caught eyes in the glass goggle-like structures of the mask, but it was too difficult to confirm.

She couldn’t focus on the thought of his mask for very long as something very firm and very warm wedged between her thighs. Licking her lips, Tillie frantically sought something to say. The ghoul tilted their head, as if amusedly waiting for her to speak.

Tillie couldn’t help herself. She swallowed hard, fighting down a smile as she asked, “Are you a graverobber? Because that’s a big bone you’re smuggling in your trousers.”

It shouldn’t have been possible for Mortem to choke, but the sputtering sound he made came close. He pulled back from the witch, carefully pressing his forehead to the back of her shoulder so as not to poke her with his beaky mask. His hands drew away from her breasts, grasping the tombstone beneath her for support.

“What?” Tillie laughed, her smile growing as she sensed the awkward incredulity radiating from the ghoul. She faintly wondered if her words shocked them out of their horniness.

“I believe,” Mortem began softly, his voice low and stern, “that deserves extra punishment, witch.”

x.x.x.x.x

Read the rest on Patreon!

#halloween #halloween smut #plague doctor #ghoul #ghoul x human #ghoul x witch #witch #spooky season #halloween 2023 #Mortem is a ghoul who looks like a plague doctor #BUT ghoul is just a catch-all term for spirits not easily filed into particular definitions #Also I really really liked Tillie's awful graverobber joke #extra terrible #10 points #lol #this was kind of difficult to write since Tillie couldn't see Mortem for pretty much any of it and he has interesting anatomy

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enigmaticxbee · 2 years

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Revival Rewatch - Fic Recs

Need something to read to pass the time waiting for date night to start while your (past - present? - future) partner tears his (your?) Unremarkable House apart in search of a lost Twilight Zone episode that he’s sure is somewhere in this pile of old vhs tapes? I don’t read a lot of revival fics but here are a few I can recommend:

Revival Smut:

Subterranean Pool by @somekindofseizure - Office sex, season 7 vs season 10, NSFW, so good.

Gravity by @ms-starlight71 - Sex in the Unremarkable House, NSFW.

Birthday Girl by @storybycorey - It’s her birthday, you know. Fifty-four years old and tucked into the back of a shiny yellow St. Louis cab, wearing a dress probably better suited to a thirty year old, with its slit up the side and its deep V of a neckline, but she looks so damn good in it, she doesn’t care. NSFW, so hot.

Just One by @observeroftheuniverse - Plus One sex scene, what we all needed, NSFW.

Familiar by @phillippadgettwrites - Plus One sex scene, NSFW.

Revival Fix-its:

Untitled by @myassbrokethefall - rewrite of the Plus One conversation in bed so that it actually makes sense.

End of Story by @cecilysass - Plus One conversation in bed fix-it.

Transitive Property of Equality by flicked_switch - fills in the gaps of their relationship over the course of season 11, canon-compliant, NSFW.

Of Monsters and Men, and a Woman by @snickerl - the confrontation with CSM they deserved.

After She Left by @agoodwoman - Over the course of the season 10 timeline, Mulder and Scully have to heal, forgive and learn to trust again as they decide what the future holds for their relationship before it's too late. NSFW. I’ve been trying to find a fic I remember with similar themes to this, where they work through their issues after the breakup in the season 10 era - it was a casefile (like this fic has between season 10 episodes) but I remember couples therapy being a big part of the other fic - if you know what that other fic might be please let me know!

Post Revival:

Times Colliding by @gaycrouton - 2018 and 1998 Mulders switch places, WIP but I just love this concept so much. NSFW.

Reprise by akaJake - Thirty years after Eugene Victor Tooms was mangled to death inside a moving escalator, several murder victims are discovered with their livers missing, ripped from their bodies without the aid of cutting tools. There are no identifiable points of entry at any of the crime scenes. Could Tooms be back?

Straight Out of the 3-Pack by DanaScullyMakesMeFeelAutopsyTurvey - Following the events of My Struggle 4, Scully finds a token from their shared past, inspiring a revelation and a sensual reimagining. NSFW.

It’s Après Ski, Scully by @agirlcallednarelle - Mulder takes Scully skiing for New Year's in 2018 to help them both move on from the events of the year. Some angst, some fluff, some closure. This is what I want for them post-revival.

The Rains of Bimini by @slippinmickeys - How could he have known, when she walked into his office with her bad suit and her earnest smile, that she would be the last person he would ever love? You don’t always realize the momentous things as they’re happening, and so he’d needled her a little; without any thought to his lost sister, he’d used his snottiest big brother voice and accused her of spying. Her. His last, best love. Set far in the future, it’s just lovely.

#xf rewatch #xf fanfic #msr #revival #fic recs #txf #the x files #season 10 #season 11

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stephy-gold · 3 months

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Writing patterns

Thanks for the tags @randomfoggytiger !!

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

I really have a pattern for MSR Revival era and their family, Emily lived and Will was raised by them.

1. 60th Birthday of G-Woman

Mulder give scully a nice evening outside and a precious gift, they dance all night. It’s a romantic fic. Mention of William

2. Emily today

Emily mulder scully is doing her residency in D.C. she has her own life, she has a situation-ship with an older men. Mulder and scully reminiscing about scully life at 29. William is in college having the time of his life.

3. 4 am. Really????

AU problematic teenage William with Scully and Mulder. Will gets drunk

4. She could be

Basically Scully and Mulder imagine what would be Emily's life if she had lived, during a cozy night in the unremarkable house. (After revival with no baby)

5. Tooms 2023

Agents Miller and Einstein are now in charge of the x files since Mulder and Scully retired. Scully is working at the hospital and Mulder is a stay at home daddy for their little girl. William and Emily make appearances. Tooms came back. (Not finished) 2 chapters

6. That old picture

Not so distant future grown ups Emily (30’s) and Will (late 20’s) discover a picture of their parents when they were young and after pestering them Mulder told the story behind the picture.

7. Mulder watches Scully doing her endless skin care night routine and tease her about it.

I could see the pattern, I also think that all of them could be a series but some works have details that differ from each other 🥺

@today-in-fic

You can find them here ☺️☺️☺️ and number 7 is in the other link

#dana scully #the x files #fox mulder #txf #x files #msr #xf fanfic #mulder x scully #ao3 fanfic #the x files season 11 #x files season 10 #the x files revival

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i-used-to-be-a-spy · 5 months

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A GUY JUST TRIED TO GIVE MULDER A BJ!!

Loving season 10 so much already

He knows Mulder is bi

#Mulder is just too in love with scully to date anyone else #txf #fox mulder #x files season 10

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atths--twice · 1 year

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The next story in the sentence prompt- “daydreaming about me?” is ready. This one was very fun to write. Hope you enjoy! ❤️

Friday Night at Jose’s

Dinner, drinks, and some flirting is the perfect way to end a long week.

February 3, 2017

Mulder walked into Jose’s, the Mexican restaurant Scully had suggested for dinner, and he drew in a deep breath. His stomach growled as the aroma of fajitas and many spices caused his mouth to water.

He spotted her across the room, a large margarita on the table in front of her as she stared absentmindedly ahead of her. Grinning, he made his way to the table, his stomach growling once again.

“Hey,” he said as he walked up beside her and sat down. She jumped and he chuckled. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t. Just… startled me I suppose.”

“Daydreaming about me?” he teased and she rolled her eyes.

“It’s six thirty,” she said, pushing her margarita toward him, offering him a drink.

“And?” he asked, taking a long drink from the neon green straw. “Phew… did you ask for extra tequila?” He coughed, but took another sip before pushing it back to her, shaking his head. “Thanks. That’s all I need.”

“Such a lightweight,” she teased, taking a long drink as she stared at him and he shrugged with a smile.

“Did you order?”

“Just this. Thought I’d wait to see if you wanted to share something.” She twirled the straw in her drink and licked her lips. He tried not to stare, but she saw and raised her eyebrows.

“I’m not sharing a salad,” he said, knowing he had been caught and choosing not to bring attention to it. “Unless it includes steak and comes with tortillas.”

“So… like a taco or a burrito?” she asked with a roll of her eyes.

“Exactly,” he said and she laughed quietly before taking another drink.

“And no I wasn’t.”

“You weren’t what?” he asked. “Talking about salad?”

“No,” she said with a snort as she laughed again. “Well, that or what you asked earlier.”

“What did I ask earlier?” he asked, frowning at her in confusion.

“Aww… memory loss. That old age catching up to you?” she asked, biting her bottom lip as she tried not to smile.

“Shut up,” he said and she shrugged, her eyes closing briefly as she raised her eyebrows. Reaching for a menu on the table, he opened it and held it out, squinting before bringing it closer.

“Do you want to borrow my glasses?” she asked and he looked up, staring at her with narrowed eyes. “Mulder, I’m right here. Can you see me?”

“Shut up,” he said as he laughed and she grinned before taking another drink. He shook his head as he looked back at the menu.

“Fajita platter? Chips and guacamole? And a small Mexican salad?” he asked and he heard her hum in agreement. “You want another drink?”

“Not yet, but maybe in a bit.”

A waiter came by a couple of minutes later and took their order, smiling at Scully as she stirred her drink and smiled back, almost languidly.

Oh. She was definitely feeling buzzed.

“How’s your drink?”

“Really good,” she said, looking at him with the same smile.

“I can tell.”

“Hmm.”

“So,” he said, smiling at her as he leaned a little closer. A buzzed, or drunk, Scully was always fun to behold. “What was it you were saying earlier? That you weren’t talking about something?”

She stared at him, blinking her eyes slowly and then shaking her head.

“What?” she asked and he grinned.

“You said you weren’t doing or talking about something that I said earlier.”

“What?” she asked again and he shook his head solemnly.

“You’re having memory loss, aren’t you? It’s you, but you're projecting your own problems onto me.”

“No. You’re just speaking in riddles. You don’t make sense.”

“Hmm,” he hummed with a smile, watching her stir the straw around in her nearly empty glass.

“Oh, wait. I know now. I remember.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“When you arrived, you asked me if I was daydreaming about you.”

“Which you obviously were,” he said with a shrug and she snorted again, looking at him with slightly glassy eyes.

“No, I wasn’t. And even if I was, it’s nearly seven now.”

He frowned, but then he realized what she was saying and he smiled.

“And by your logic, it wouldn’t be daydreaming because it’s night time. Or evening,” he said and she snapped her fingers and pointed at him as he laughed again. “Well… it’s hard to argue with such sound logic.”

“Not to mention, I wasn’t thinking about you before you arrived.”

“Do they include steak knives with the silverware?” he asked, unrolling the napkin and sighing with disappointment. “I’ll have to ask them for one to let you do the job properly. Right in the heart. Here specifically.” He tapped his chest and she put her fingers to her mouth to hide her smile. “Make sure you get me right here when you physically wound me just as your words have done emotionally.”

“But then our meal would be interrupted. The cops would need to get involved. We’d have to make a statement… It’s just too much to deal with tonight.” She shrugged and as he smiled, his finger still on his chest.

“Well, just know that it was right here, should you want to revisit it later.”

“Yeah. It would actually be better to do it without numerous witnesses.”

He laughed as she looked around with a nod, scoping out the room. The waiter arrived with the salad and set it in the middle of the table. As he walked away, Scully pulled it toward her, sliding her margarita to Mulder.

“Another?” he asked.

“After the salad. That first one is doing the job quite nicely. You can finish it if you’d like.”

“Thanks,” he said. “Nothing like “second drink” margarita.”

She smiled at his Office reference and he finished the drink as she ate the salad, offering him a few bites, which he accepted happily, despite his previous protests of wanting one.

Their meal arrived not long after, along with another margarita and glasses of water . She licked her lips appreciatively as she took a sip, humming as she wiggled in her seat. He smiled as he watched her begin to build her fajita, knowing the exact order in which she would do it.

As the meal ended, he offered to take her home, seeing as how she was not in any fit condition to drive. She accepted, smiling at him as she stood to use the bathroom before they left. Watching her walk away, a little unsteady on her feet, he laughed quietly.

Driving to her apartment, a place he did not visit as regularly as he would have liked, their separation leaving some things in a gray area, she hummed along with the radio. Rolling her window down despite the chill in the air, she drew in a deep breath.

“I’m a little bit drunk,” she said, her words slurring a bit.

“Are you?” he teased with a chuckle. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Liar. You notice everything.”

“Like the fact that you were daydreaming, or evening dreaming, about me?”

“Hmm,” she hummed, but offered no further comment and he grinned as he made a left toward her apartment.

He pulled up and parked in one of the empty visitor spots and looked over at her. Her eyes were closed and he would have thought she was asleep, but he knew by her breathing that she was awake.

“Do you want me to walk you in?” he asked and her eyes opened slowly.

“Naaaaah,” she drawled. “I’m good. Thanks for the ride.”

“Anytime.”

She sighed as she unbuckled her seatbelt and gathered her things. Glancing at him, she smiled and opened the door.

“Goodnight, Mulder,” she said and he nodded.

“Goodnight, Scully.”

“It’s Friday. Let’s stay out of trouble until Monday, yeah? Let me sleep in tomorrow?”

“Sure. I’ll see what I can do,” he said, smiling at her.

“Thanks. I appreciate it.” She squeezed his forearm and then got out of the car, shivering as she closed the door.

She walked in front of the car towards the stairs and then turned around, walking back to his side of the car.

“Yes?” he asked as he rolled the window down.

“Do you think that daydreams only apply to things you’ve not yet had? Like winning the lottery? Or a trip you’ve yet to take? Things you’ve not experienced, but may want to someday?”

“Only? Never would I think that’s the only type of daydream a person can or should have. A daydream represents something you want, wish you could have, or know you will have, but it’s not yet come to fruition. Daydreams are different from sleeping dreams as we are in control of them. Therefore, in my opinion, they hold more weight than a dream we have while sleeping. We are active participants during the day.”

“And not just with dreams, as that’s when we are active,” she said, her eyes closed and eyebrows raised.

“True,” he agreed with a smile, his eyes traveling across her face. Her mascara was smudged under one eye and he wished he could cup her face in his hands and smooth it away as he had done countless times in the past.

“I think you’re right,” she said, opening her eyes and focusing on him. “It’s good to have daydreams about what could be, even if you may have had it before.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly as they both stared at one another.

“Well, goodnight again,” she said, stepping back from the car and nodding as she scrunched her chin.

“And to you,” he replied.

“Behave,” she said.

“Let you sleep in. I got it,” he said with a small chuckle.

“Bye.”

“Bye, Scully.”

He watched her walk inside as he let out a deep breath, counting to sixty before he started the car and drove away.

“New message from Scully,” was heard through the speakers a minute later, his phone lighting up on its holder.

He grinned as he waited for it to be read, imagining her taking her shoes off by the door and stumbling to the couch, sitting down tiredly upon it with a sigh.

“It’s remotely plausible to consider that I may daydream about you from time to time.”

Laughing loudly, he slapped the steering wheel as he pulled up to a stoplight. He shook his head and laughed again, picturing her smile as she sent that message.

“Ahh, Scully,” he said, smiling as the light turned green and he continued on his way.

He knew by the time he got home, perhaps before he even drove too much further, she would be asleep on the couch, a blanket wrapped snugly around her.

“Message Scully,” he said.

“What do you want the message to say?”

“More than plausible,” he said, still smiling.

“It reads more than plausible. Send it to Scully?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Done.”

“Good,” he replied with a nod. “Good.”

He smiled nearly the entire drive home.

#xf fanfic #the x files #msr #happy #between season 10 and 11 #flirting #drinking #dinner date #separated but still together #banter

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