Okay I had this randomass bunny for Horror Jogan a while ago, where Julian moves into this new house that's way below market value for how nice it is, and since he's a Realist and Doesn't Believe In Ghosts, Dwight, he's just amused at the person selling the house to him and how jumpy they are
Not, like, entirely creepy and violent like the journals he found seem to indicate, but it's more that when he masturbates he starts to feel hands on him
Just a little at first, soft trailing over his skin that make him jump, make him glance, wide-eyed around his room. He tells himself that it's just a breeze, though air doesn't really move like that, and it happens even when he takes to sliding under the covers
It makes him stop for a little while, uncomfortable with the strange sensation, but he's horny, damnit, he's got needs, so he bites the bullet, keeps his eyes wide open while he touches himself, tries to itnore the strange touches that start to appear on his skin
It freaks him out, even though it feels amazing, and he starts to avoid his house at night. He only has sex once, for the next night, alone in his bed, he feels a tight grip against his throat, furious fingers digging into the soft skin of his neck.
He can still breath, even though he feels like he's hyperventilating from fear, and even though the next morning there's no evidence of the strange nightmare (he tries to convince himself it was a nightmare), he feels nervous about going out again.
He goes to the people who sold him the house, asks them about what happened, why they left. It's confusing, because they tell a story of fear, of things moving in their apartment, of shadows shifting where they shouldn't be. Of an aura of hostility, or fury, and they felt like they were imposing where they shouldn't be.
Derek, who he's been talking to about all of this, is concerned, worried that Julian's going through some depressive episode that's messing with his head. He tries to coax Julian to spend a few weeks at his place, but Julian's determined, doesn't want to let the thing in his house scare him off.
He sprawls across his bed, chokes back his apprehension, and wraps a hand around his cock, stroking it until he's hard, even despite the twist of his stomach. It doesn't take long until the thing starts to touch him, far too many hands pressing into his skin.
He bites his lip, closes his eyes, and tries to ignore the touch, tries to block it out. Tries not to feel the fingers sliding against the inside of his thighs as he rolls his hips up into his fist, tries to ignore the warmth of a palm against his throat as he slides his own fingers inside himself.
He's doing alright, flinching at each new touch but becoming more used to them as he gets lost in the pleasure cresting, but then there's the feeling of something warm and damp against his neck, like an open-mouthed kiss being pressed there, and he lurches out of his bed with a yell, pressing against the door to stare, wide-eyed, at the bed.
There are depressions there, still lingering, and Julian watches, heart in his throat and stomach tight with terror, as the indents - like knees digging into the mattress - move towards him, then disappear from the bed.
He's frozen, waiting for something to happen for long moments, and he almost breathes a sigh of relief when he feels it - the air around him suddenly dense, like there's someone standing before him, crowding him against the wall. A scuff sounds beside his head, like a palm dragged against plaster, and nothing presses against his hair.
After what feels like hours, he drags himself up, stumbles to the kitchen and his liquor cabinet. He can't leave, not yet, not without trying harder, but he can't -
A glass or three of straight rum later, Julian's back in his bed. His head feels like floating, and it's easier to not think. He plays absently with his cock, a little to sloshed to really feel like gathering the coordination to really go for an orgasm, but it feels nice, like slower waves of pleasure to just tease himself.
He doesn't jump this time when the fingers press into the skin of his inner thighs, just signs and lets his legs fall wider, touches the same places with his own fingers. A hand fists against the back of his head and Julian moans, arching into the touch without thinking about it, dips his fingers lower to tease against his hole as thumbs brush his chest.
It's easier this time to forget there's not anyone there, keeps his eyes closed and his alcohol-tinged mind blank as once again, there's the feeling of a mouth against his skin. Lower this time, at his collarbones, before it disappears and appears lower, with a hit of teeth against his pectoral.
He hums, lost in the bliss, as hands curl around his wrists and press them into the mattress, as the mouth continues lower and lower until it's biting at the crease of his groin, making Julian pant and twist against the hands holding him down, even as more hands push up against his neck to slide in his hair, and down his legs to push him wider still.
When the mouth - the tongue - presses against his perineum Julian whines, high and desperate, and is lost enough in the pleasure to open his eyes. The blank of the ceiling staring back at him confuses him, he things there should be someone - someones? - there, to hold his wrists immobile as he is.
A tongue slides against his chest and Julian twists, confused, because there's nothing there. His brain, muddled by pleasure and alcohol, is barely piecing his reality back together when something presses up inside him, something warm and wet surrounds his cock and sucks, and Julian comes with a choked scream.
He keeps staring at the ceiling, heart feeling like it's about to pound out of his chest, when he thinks he sees a flash of something - something gold, or something green, something there and gone in an instant. He can move again, the grips on his wrists gone as his mind surfaced from orgasmic bliss, and he hears something like a laugh as he slips asleep.
Wakes for a moment sometime in the night to find water and pain medication by his bed. He wonders, blearily, when Derek came over as he swallows both down, before he's out again.
Julian remembers a bit more the next morning, enough that a part of him wants to leave, to pack a bag and stay with Derek, to do what so many did before him and hope some other blind fool with come along and buy the house from him.
But something just... won't let him. As soon as the thoughts surface they're brushed away, and Julian can't seem to hold the thought long enough to bother to search out a bag. He holds on long enough, once, to get to the door, anxiety focusing him until he tries to turn the knob, finds it impossibly locked from outside.
It shocks him enough that his train of thought it gone, and he spends the rest of the way wandering absently around the house, feeling a little lost, even as he turns around what happened the night before in his head.
It fades as night gets closer, the wariness and fear spinning inside of him with a heavy dose of curiosity. The drive to leave is gone, the flight reflex evaporated in the sun, the forgetfulness with it.
As it nears midnight, Julian goes to his room, but hovers at the door. He's afraid - but not. The terror is there, lurking at the back of his brain, but he's interested too, and how it felt last night, the way the hands - the mouths - touched h im -
Swallowing, Julian steps in, flinches and whirls in place as the door shuts on it's own behind him. He can feel the thing - the person? - inside the room, can tell it's there, that it's amused at him, like a predator watching it's prey stumble blindly closer.
Julian takes a breath, tries to get the analogy out of his head, and walks to the bed, stripping as he goes. He pretends it's any night like before, tries to keep his breathing steady. But he can't raise his eyes from the ground, and his fingers tremble against the clasp of his jeans.
He flinches and freezes as the air around him shifts, his skin prickling like there's something hovering just inches away, but he forces himself to push through it, to step out of his jeans and slide beneath the covers.
Arms. There's arms sliding around him. Julian jolts, nearly rushes out of bed, but the arms hold him still. Pinned, against nothing. Julian closes his eyes, makes himself breath, tries to calm his heart as lips gently brush against the back of his neck.
He swallows thickly, trembles as a non-existent leg is pressed between his own. He wants to look down, wonders what he'll see, but keeps his eyes closed as the body behind him shifts closer, pulls him tighter against it.
The thing's cock is nestled against his ass, and hands slide over him, lingering at his mouth, his groin, the curve of his ass. It brings heat to Julian's face even as he stays still, kept frozen more from fear than the invisible arms around him.
Fingers stroke against his hole, and Julian's breath leaves him with a wounded noise. He twists, surprised to find the thing lets him move, lets him roll to his stomach and bury his face in the pillow as the fingers play about his entrance.
It feels good - far too good for the simple motions, and Julian barely flicks his eyes towards the door, towards escape, before the rush of pleasure distracts him. There's a mouth there, again, licking indolently across his asshole, wet enough that Julian wonders if he reached back, if he would actually be wet.
The thing - the man - has never left marks before, never any indication of being anything real - but as the tongue continues to lave at his entrance, Julian can feel the strange tickling sensation of a drop of liquid sliding down to his balls.
It shocks a moan out of him, makes him press up onto his knees, the mouth's attentions never wavering. He tries to reach back, desperate to know if it's real, but hands grip his wrists, pull them above his head. Julian shudders, fear nearly overwhelmed by a rush of arousal, and slides his knees wider.
It's still there, the horror screeching at him from the back of his mind, but a mouth closes over the head of his cock as a tongue slides smoothly inside him and Julian presses his face into his pillow and screams, body locking tight with the nearly overwhelming rush of sensation.
Ducking his chin down, Julian presses his forehead into the pillow instead to breathe. It's with some shock that he realizes that the sheets beneath him are splattered with his come and his dick is somehow already starting to harden again, but it's all white noise against the continued rush of bliss running through him.
The tongue is replaced with fingers, and once again Julian can't help but wonder how much of this is real, if he'd see himself slick and starting to open to invisible fingers if there was a mirror behind him. The image makes him shudder, or perhaps it's the hands stroking down the back of his thighs, trailing down to curl around his ankles.
The fingers inside him eventually slide out and he can feel something else resting against his hole, something that feels like -
"No -" Julian gasps, his voice jarring in what he hadn't realized was complete silence, and suddenly it's all gone. The hands, the mouth on his dick, the head of the cock about to press inside of him.
AND IT'S LATE AND I NEED SLEEP BUT PRETTY MUCH LOGAN-THE-EVIL-SPIRIT CONTINUES TORMENTING JULIAN UNTIL JULIAN'S BEGGING FOR IT AND FUCKS HIM HARDCORE BEFORE PULLING HIM INTO LOGAN'S REALM TO BE HIS SEX SLAVE FOR ETERNITY. THE END
Do we get a scene where someone not very nice comes into the house and threatens Julian and a bad time is had by everyone, or one where Julian is quite upset about something and the supposedly creepy house gets weirdly comforting? ❤️
Well the original idea was that eventually Weird Shit starts to happen, enough that Derek is Very Worried. And then one night Julian calls and he's panicked and says he needs to get out, but then goes completely radio silent for three weeks. Derek visits the house, but it's locked, and he can't get in.
Eventually he breaks a window or something and finally gets in. He finds Julian, who looks freaked out, but more confused than anything, as Derek yells at him for disappearing. It makes Julian more and more upset until he tells Derek, voice shaking, that he literally just hung up from his call to Derek.
And then things devolved into more general House Horror stuff, with Derek getting attacked and forced out of the house, while the house refuses to let Julian go.
Never seen Monster House, so can't say haha. But really, it's less the House itself and more just the Very Powerful Spirit/Demon/whatever that's inhabiting it. So, more like Poltergeist, but with porn?
is there a backstory for how Logan became an evil spirit, like did derek do research and find out some guy named Logan Wright died in the house centuries ago
"No -" Julian gasps, his voice jarring in what he hadn't realized was complete silence, and suddenly it's all gone. The hands, the mouth on his dick, the head of the cock about to press inside of him.
im LIVINGis there a backstory for how Logan became an evil spirit, like did derek do research and find out some guy named Logan Wright died in the house centuries ago