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phyrestartr · 5 months ago

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If We Had Lived (Divine Favour) | Sukuna x Kitsune!Reader

W/C: 3k #SFW, fluff, mentions of past abuse, heian sukuna, typical kitsune shapeshifting, jp mythology, morally grey reader, DRABBLE

tags: @kamote-kuneho @nyanwko @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9 @3zae-zae3 @chibiduck @kiiyoooo @lukaijah @memedealer-exe @f0th3rr @boretheral @cicithemess @paastaboi @someone0vx

“Sit still.”

“I'm sitting fucking still, fox.”

Sukuna did not sit still. He shifted and huffed, not unlike an annoyed, restless bull locked up in a pen–only, he was far from being in a pen and could leave whenever he so wished.

Yet, he stayed. He endured the torture you, his prized possession, put him through for the sake of making good impressions or whatever. But the harvest festival was hardly a big deal–the last time the king was bestowed a gift of any value was when he found himself the owner of a beautifully annoying fox that hid in his garden for a fucking eternity. A prize like that was unlikely to be given again. What else could possibly excite the man who had everything?

Your tails swished behind you dramatically as you shifted on your knees, tilting your head to look over the work you'd done with cleaning and manicuring his nails and hands. Thankfully, you left callouses in place. Not that he thought you'd be so cruel as to remove them, but you certainly had the ability to, considering how soft your own hands were.

“How much more?” Sukuna grumbled.

Your eyes flicked up to his for a moment before returning to your task. “I've hardly finished one hand.”

The king scowled as a child might as you continued gently pushing at his cuticles with the slim, soft stick of an orange tree, carved specially for this occasion. Sure, he was the one who demanded you to turn your self-preening onto him, but still--

Your soft, warm touch cupped under his jaw and lifted his pouty gaze to meet yours. “You asked this of me,” you reminded. “If you've changed your mind, I've other tasks to attend to.”

Sukuna’s lip twitched in an ugly, childish snarl. “You'll stay here and finish your job.”

“Very well.” You leaned up toward him and kissed the spot between his brows before sitting again. But Sukuna followed you, bowing his head to chase a proper kiss that you gave freely, the kind spirit you were. “Then you will have to sit still.”

“Tch.” But he obliged to the best of his abilities. “Already gonna have to sit still for hours while those damn peasants show up and dump scraps at my feet,” he sighed, pulling up a knee and resting an elbow on it.

“My, a kingly thing is complaining about fealty?” You wondered, sarcastic yet cripplingly honest. “While I understand your unwillingness to do anything but fight and kill, you must remind those beneath you of your status.”

Sukuna scoffed. “Yeah? Then why isn't my kyuubi doing just that?”

“I am no king,” you said. “I am simply the servant of one, no? Given to him as a mere offering, yet kept alive for his amusement.”

“Huh. Guess you know your place.” Sukuna shifted, and he noticed you pick up the pace, tending to him a bit quicker lest the restless beast lose his patience and leave with the job incomplete. He wouldn’t leave, not when he hungered for your attention and touch more than anything else the pathetic world could offer him–only something from the divine plane could satiate him.

“Mh.” You raised his hand and pressed his knuckles to your lips, then against the soft plushness of your cheek. “My place is by my king’s side. It will forever remain that way.”

–

You left his side. You left him, your pious saviour, your sworn king, your chosen mate, in favour of–what? Freedom? Adventure? Men? Women? What was it?

Thunder echoed in Sukuna’s chest as he paced. He’d swept through towns, destroyed any houses you might have been sequestered in, searched vacant shrines and the like, but never caught a glimpse of your ebony tails nor your decorated kimono. It drove him mad. How had he not noticed? Did the harvest festivities really engulf his mind? Sure, they were more eventful this year, what with clansmen attempting revenge in the name of their fallen brethren, but it’d only been a week of problems–nothing challenging, nothing that really, truly required his full attention. And still–

“Sukuna-sama,” Uraume called, interrupting his buzzing thoughts.

“What?” The king snapped, turning on his heel to face Uraume standing at his chamber door. “If this is about anything other than my fucking fox, then–”

“Please, come,” they said. “I believe I’ve found an explanation.”

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed. Uraume sounded calm, not that they ever sounded particularly frantic, but they seemed…happy, maybe? Some weird kind of content, perhaps. It wasn’t something Sukuna was used to seeing on their placid face, though it’d become more common ever since you entered their lives and made yourself at home. The frost sorcerer had a soft spot for you. Sukuna couldn’t blame them.

“Pray tell what the fuck the explanation is,” Sukuna grumbled as he followed his subordinate, arms all crossed and tensed.

“I’m certain I’ve found the whereabouts of your beloved.” Uraume slid open the door leading to the gardens in the back and walked on. “In the absence of (Name), I decided to tend to the gardens myself. In doing so, I found something quite peculiar–a hidden grove of sorts.”

Sukuna’s fury morphed into prickling, fiery intrigue. “Bullshit. I’ve been all over this fucking garden with that fox. I know the ins and outs.”

“Then it would not surprise me if he indeed kept this a secret from you.”

Sukuna grumbled. “He knows better.”

“I don’t believe it’d be intentional,” Uraume said, “but I believe his instincts may have influenced him to secure a quiet, safe place for the future.”

The king relaxed. Electricity sparked weakly in his fingertips first,then throughout the rest of his body when everything started falling into place–you wanted all eyes to be on him, you didn’t want anyone to look at you during the festival. Your cheeks had grown fuller, your body more plush, your desire to snuggle and snooze went through the roof. Could you have been–?

Uraume stepped toward a thicket of trees in the far corner of the garden–one that Sukuna indeed had never bothered with, considering it looked full of trees and foliage and definitely not a spot to meander on your shared morning walks–before ducking under thick branches and pushing aside flimsy bushes.

Sukuna followed with a little more brute force, nearly ripping the pesky foliage out of the way and half-considering decimating the trees that dare whip him in the face with a cluster of leaves. But you’d probably get pissy if he did that. A pissy fox was fun, but also withheld sex, and that was a no-go for Sukuna these days, considering his concubines just weren’t doing it for him as of late.

Sure enough, Uraume’s words rang true. The grove was small and cozy, letting in warm dappling sunlight while shielding itself from the prying eyes of the outside world. In the very corner of the garden and the evident centrepiece of the grove, stood an immense weeping willow, one with a formidable trunk and thick, gnarled branches reaching up to drape long curtains of green like cascading waterfalls around itself. Truly, it felt like a separate little world would be hidden in there, behind swaying vines and rustling leaves.

“You gotta be shitting me,” Sukuna muttered, stepping past his right hand to push aside the foliage, revealing a black fox curled up in the hollowed trunk of that very tree.

You didn’t stir when he approached. Something uneasy curled in Sukuna’s gut, but once he sat himself in front of the mouth to your little den, he spied the steady breathing shifting your small form, and calmed–until he saw something else wiggling against you, chirping and squeaking with pathetic, fragile voices. At first, he thought it was some sort of parasite sucking you of your lifeforce, but he realized too quickly that what he beheld were two, tiny kits, both covered in fluffy brown-black fur, both keenly aware of the presence of a curious new man sitting before them.

Sukuna tensed when they approached him. Their chubby bellies knocked their weak, stubby legs off balance, but they persevered best they could, bumbling their way through trampled leaves and grass, and finally reaching the crossed legs of the king. Tiny paws papped at his pant legs before they hazarded climbing the formidable mountain before them And despite Sukuna’s hesitation, he hastily held their butts before they fell off of him like the stupid, dumb babies they were. They were his stupid, dumb babies, after all. Best to take care of them.

“It appears he went somewhere quiet to nest,” Uraume hummed, sounding far too pleased as they watched the king handle fox kits. “Perhaps the festival was too stressful.”

“Tch. Could’ve shot the runts out inside,” Sukuna mumbled, half-heartedly annoyed. “Coulda said somethin’.”

“He could have,” Uraume agreed, an air of ‘but what’s done is done’ clinging to their words.

Sukuna sighed. “What a pain in the ass.” His eyes flicked to you again. He expected you to wake up, to snap at him like the feral thing you were. He expected you to calm after recognizing him. Maybe he expected you to curl up in his lap, too. Or did he just want that?

But you stayed sleeping. Content and safe under the shelter of your lover and the stalwart embrace of a weeping willow. Perhaps it was thanking you for your kind care with the way it soothed your soul and kept you hidden away. Sukuna wouldn't doubt it for a second. The garden acted differently ever since you claimed it as your own.

“Shall we take them back?” Uraume asked.

The king thought for a long moment, sifting through selfish desires and rational decisions before coming to his conclusion: “Leave ‘em. He'll probably throw a damn fit if we interfere. You know how gods are–annoying and irrational as hell when they don't get their way.”

His subordinate smiled. “Very well.”

–

Winter’s first frost came, and you returned to his side.

You woke him with a classic move–standing on his chest and staring at him expectantly until he woke up and gave you attention. You didn’t do it as much anymore, not ever since you found yourself in the midst of a thousand responsibilities and daily quests, but every once in a while, like when your lover would return from long journeys, you’d pester him endlessly for pets, scritches and kisses.

But this time, once his heavy eyes opened, he not only saw you standing atop his chest, but a chubby pup caught in your maw, too.

Sukuna blinked away his grogginess just as you gingerly placed the babe on his collarbone, tucking him underneath the king's chin. One of his large hands flew up to ensure the kit (his kit) didn't slip off when you let go and trotted away with purpose.

“Fox,” Sukuna grumbled, displeased with your hasty retreat. Thankfully, you trotted back up to him a handful of moments later and placed a second ball of fluff on his chest before settling down beside him and watching.

“Tch. Took you long enough,” the king huffed as he tried his damndest to be careful and gentle with the little ones. “Was about to drag your sorry ass in here myself.”

I see. If you were so desperate for my company, you could have simply requested it, you countered.

Sukuna sucked his teeth and huffed. “Like it woulda been that easy.” Nothing was that easy with you–and Sukuna liked it. If you gave in, if you tended to his every fleeting want and need, you'd be too boring, frankly.

It is unlike you to not try. You shifted and wormed your way into his arms and half onto his chest, right beside the two snoozing kits you'd worked hard to bring up while Sukuna was off fighting, killing and maiming. But that was expected; servants and bedded beasts were to stay and make a home, weren't they?

“Tch. I let you have your way for once and this is how you act?” Your partner admired your foxen features and traced his fingertips along your snout, between your eyes, to the top of your little skull before scritching behind your ears. You leaned into the touch, eyes falling closed with the meagerest offering of affection.

Shall I praise you and bow at your feet once I am able? You teased.

“Bending over'll do the trick.” Sukuna smirked when you huffed. “How long you gotta stay as a shitty mutt anyway?”

Until they wean. I'm not certain as to how long that will take.

“Not even a guess?”

Perhaps another week or so. You turned your nose to the two small fluffs and groomed the tops of their heads. They're becoming more independent. More willing to explore. I take that as a good sign for their development.

“Huh. Good.” A strange coil relaxed in Sukuna's chest, and he braved petting them with a single finger again. “‘N how long ‘til these two learn to play human?”

Not for some time, but I will help them until they master it themselves. You nipped at Sukuna's hand as a third rose to come pester you. You should not pray for them to be human too soon. They will terrorize you. I have seen such chaos before.

Sukuna grinned. “Ho? You forget who their father is?” Your sigh echoed in his mind, and his smile split wider. “I can handle anything.”

–

Kazuya and Genji took too much after you and your mischievous heritage.

Too often Uraume would find them in baskets of produce, happily munching away like they were supposed to be in there. Other times, they'd be caught stealing shiny jewelry or knick knacks from the king's concubines and servants. They'd sometimes even take Sukuna's clothes and run amok with them, using them as toys or completely shredding them.

You, he who had birthed and raised them, were swift when it came to correcting them. You were, of course, the prime example of a kitsune, and therefore found their treasure stashes, foretold of their destructive crimes, and knew when they'd be off to steal food. You were like them, once, after all.

And maybe that's why you had a peculiar pep to your step. Once the boys found their devious personalities, you bothered lifting your tails from the floor. No longer did you let them drag and droop like limp noodles hanging from chopsticks. You seemed…prouder. Livelier. Perhaps being amongst your own gave you a sense of belonging, of hope.

Belonging, huh? Tch, what a load of shit. Sukuna mused as he rested his cheek against his fist, lounging while he watched you wrangle the twins from his spot under a shady tree. Spring was here, and that meant the runts were now terrorizing the great outdoors.

More accurately, they were following you around like two tiny shadows, too eager to waddle after you as you moved along the paths, sowing seeds and pruning withered leaves as you went. The tots picked up whatever your tending cast to the ground, and they held each thistle, leaf and twig close in tiny, pudgy hands like they were rabbit's feet. Strange little things.

He lost sight of you and the bumbling babies eventually, but your light chatter flitted through the brush and kept him company for a time. The sound of leaves crunching underfoot accompanied your walk as you came back around, closer and closer and–through the garden itself? Wait–

“RAH!” A little voice cried before a littler body launched onto Sukuna.

“Ha?” The king quirked a brow and looked at the little thing biting and kicking at his arm like a spastic cat. “What the hell is this?”

“He's trying to play with you,” you said as you wandered back into view, voice airy and light. “They wrestle.”

Sukuna held his arm up to get a better look at the runt nibbling on him. “This is supposed to be playing? Damn thing's acting feral.”

“Because he's young.” You settled down beside your lover, adjusting your robes and such to ensure they cascaded and pooled around you attractively. “One day, he'll ask you to teach him how to fight. How to use cursed techniques.”

Sukuna's expression almost softened. “Huh. That so?”

“Mh.” You smoothed Kazuya's hair back as he settled in your lap, choosing peace over violence, unlike Genji. “They are yours. I've no doubt they'll have the same hunger for strife and knowledge.”

They are yours. The words nearly made Sukuna sick; they weren't his per sè, they were a result of his relentless attempts to tie you down and make you stay with him no matter the cost. They only shared half of his genetics, they didn't rule his every thought nor own half of his heart. That all belonged to you.

But then why did he feel…trepidatious? The way he once felt too long ago when he knew nothing of the world and met too many cruel hands from the moment he opened his eyes. Maybe because these little ones were that age, able to run around and cause problems where they ought to not. Maybe because messing with the wrong person might not end with them slaughtering he who had the audacity to harm them, but with their young lives being lost.

Ah. That must have been it–the petulance of his own kind pissed Sukuna off to no end. The thought of extensions of himself being looked down on brought about creeping waves of disgust and distaste. Humans were the ones who thought themselves godly enough to kill Sukuna. Humans were the ones who thought themselves mighty enough to enslave and breed a divine beast. The little ones were destined to share humanity's ire, and it pissed him off. It really pissed him off.

“Yeah,” Sukuna decided, shaking his arm to test Genji's ability to cling onto him. “I'll show ‘em a thing or two. Can't have humans beating the shit outta some godlings just for fun.”

“Well, if one were to try, I'd kill them myself,” you cooed like it was the most romantic thing in the world. “Level their village, light the sky ablaze.”

“Now you're speakin’ my language,” Sukuna said, grinning.

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x male reader #sukuna x m!reader #sukuna x you #jjk x you #male reader insert #male reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen reader insert #jujutsu kaisen x male reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #cw: abuse

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2-dsimp · 7 months ago

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Any of the guys with a pregnancy kink?

On the father, the spirit, and the son, pregnant people are fine as fuck. I always be looking respectfully.

- 🤰

【The H.S.M Scenarios; Pregnancy kink edition】

—————;———-;———

Cw: MDNI NSFW 🔞 Fem reader, pregnancy kink

————;—-;————

“Atta girl, taking in every single drop like a good mommy~ Just lay back on me wife. I wanna get that cute tummy of yours all plump n full of me again and again—Fuck!”

Nokka the husband, this guys a no brainer. He’s so confident in his seed that he doesn’t even need a pregnancy test to check if he had knocked you up with his baby. But Your husband will let you do so if only to prove that his elite sperm had done its job well. in making his wife’s belly swell up beautifully with his potential son. And hence the moment you started showing a baby bump, your meager time alone at home would diminish. As this man is constantly on you like white on rice. He’s rubbing your belly possessively with his big hand. Watching football while having you warm his cock. Of which he complained got so rock hard that it was borderline uncomfortable for him to even sit wearing his baggy sweats. All because of how his wife was lookin too damn irresistible in that pregnancy glow. (And just in general… this man’s a bonifide caveman simp for his wife)

“Awe my poor player 2~ is our little player 3 acting up too much? Don’t worry! I’ll tell em to take it easy on you mkay mamma? Just spread them legs wide for me so that lil bugger can get the message”

Soma the Zombie, always dreamed of having a team of professional gamers to carry on his legacy of being number one in the world. He often joked around saying that 3 kids wouldn’t be enough. Since he’d never get enough of seeing that radiant glow you’d possess when you’re heavy with his child. And ever since he got infected his obsession with keeping you full got even more demanding. The Zombie had his tentacles that sprouted from him squeezed and kneaded your breasts for any source of milk to suckle on. while his thick gelatinous tendril cock squirmed itself inside your well used cunt. His suckers messaged against your love cannal trying to cease the baby’s incessant kicking by giving them a taste of their own medicine.

“B-but sunshine won’t this u-upset our little starshine? N-no? Then I guess it’ll be f-fine. Just don’t p-push yourself too hard, I only w-want you to f-feel good my love”

Moros the Torturer, would be considering himself blessed to even be able to have such happiness in raising a child with you. He’d always make sure to cater to your every need during your pregnancy. You’ve got a craving for baked goods? He’ll bake enough for a whole football team. Need a deep tissue massage? The Torturer’s on the case, after consulting with Koji the medic what would be the best spots to soothe for his pregnant darling. You’d have to be the one to try and initiate any sort of intimacy to get his gears going. Since he’s a timid gentle giant who’d cry if under the impression that he somehow hurt you. By delving his thick uncircumcised cock so deep inside your wet snatch that its fat tip was kissing languidly against your cervix. With each gentle but jerky buck of his semi inexperienced hips. His scarred hands would always subconsciously find themselves on your stomach. As he’s just so grateful at how now he’s got two stunning guiding lights that’ll brighten up his day.

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mybelovedvi · 25 days ago

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buy me presents!

pairing: pro!oikawa tooru x f!reader x iwaizumi hajime synopsis: your boyfriend opted to not come home for christmas. luckily for you, his best friend is here. cw: suggestive, !!cheating!!, a hint of possessive iwa. wc: 1.5k ,, part of my christmas event (discont.)

'twas the week before christmas. you stare at your boyfriend's newest post at the very top of your homepage. while your lips initially lifted into a grin at the sight of his username, it dropped when you saw his arm around the waist of a well-known model on the beach, the argentinian sun reflecting off water droplets on their tanned skin. your lips tighten further when you see the caption and comments.

oikawatooru getting into the christmas spirit! <3 itsrennn this is my new fav pic

what the fuck?

as you glaze over the comments, there are way too many, "are they together?" "they're so cute!" "new it couple!!" to count. the post was uploaded merely an hour ago, but gossip accounts have already picked up on it, rumours of their hopefully nonexistent relationship already circulating.

although your relationship isn't known to the public- only close family and friends- you didn't expect him to be bold enough to post something so suggestive, again. every once in a while, he'd post a picture looking too close for comfort with a guy or girl, but when you question him about it, he denies everything, yet making no effort to correct his actions despite knowing you feel uncomfortable. once even his mother texted, asking whether you two had broken up.

switching to the messages app, you click on tooru's contact, ready to interrogate him, when an incoming text cuts you off.

hajime :p

Hey, just saw Shittykawa's post. You okay?

and a second later,

I'm sure there's nothing between them.

that does not comfort you whatsoever, and tears start to accumulate on your waterline. you're well aware he's been withdrawing from you these past couple of months, the eighteen thousand kilometers between you causing its strain on your relationship. it was bound to happen, you'd told yourself, but that didn't stop you from falling asleep countless times with tears staining your pillow.

you

can you come over?

hajime :p

Yeah sure, give me five.

shuddering, you place your phone face down and wait for the doorbell to ring.

in just over three minutes, you hear keys jingle. hajime steps in a second later, dressed in his signature grey hoodie and denim jacket. "hey," he says as he sets a full plastic bag down on the kitchen island. "you okay?"

"no, not really," you sniffle. hajime sits next to you on the couch and wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his chest. he's, quite honestly, been your rock throughout you and tooru's relationship, always there as a shoulder to lean on, especially after tooru relocated to argentina for volleyball. "why would he post that?"

"i don't know, doll. he's being a dick," hajime says softly while rubbing your shoulder.

"yeah, he is." he pulls out a tissue from his pocket and you blow your nose. "who the hell does he think he is? i've been with him all these years, supported us both when he was out of a job and only trying out for teams. now he's basically ghosted me but suddenly pops up with this shit!"

you fiddle with your hands, nails pressing into your palms and leaving crescent shaped indents behind, a habit you picked up long ago.

"you're right, i don't know why he's acting like this,"

"i don't know either. if he was smart, he'd drop all these other sidepieces and put me first! i'm so sick of being ignored by him and never knowing what's going on." you huff and pout, shifting so your legs drape over hajime's, almost curled into his lap.

"i'm sorry angel, you deserve better. i don't know what's going on with him and haven't for a while honestly, but you deserve better, alright?" hajime mumbles into your hair, fingers lightly tracing up and down your biceps.

"i guess... i'm just so disappointed, in both him and myself. i don't remember the last time he bought me presents, i don’t even remember the last time he said ‘i love you’, for god’s sake!" you bury your head in the crook of his neck, trying to stop yourself from inhaling his overwhelming scent. you haven't seen tooru since the start of the year, so it's pretty safe to say you're a little touch deprived. hajime knows this too, having noticed how at dinner you'd unconsciously shift so your knees are touching his, or how during movie nights you'd press the sides of your bodies together under a shared blanket.

you're no fool, though. you know what you're doing, you know the effect you have on him, and you know it's wrong to be so touchy-feely with your boyfriend's best friend. but as tooru drifted further and further from you, thoughts of you and hajime together in bed surfaced in your mind more and more often.

"you should call him," hajime says, his voice wavering a little. "tell him you're ending it."

"right now?" you lift your head to look at his eyes. there's a sparkle in them, and some other emotion you can't really make out.

"right now. don't wanna sit here 'n listen to you whine about that cockhead any longer." one of his hands snake to your throat, and up to your chin. a thumb grazes your bottom lip, light as a feather. "i know it, you know it. you're too good for him,"

you try to shift away but he keeps a firm grip on your chin. "c'mon doll, what are you waiting for, hm? him to surprise you this christmas? i can promise you, he won't,"

"gee, way to break a girl's heart." you let out a breathy laugh. "i suppose i should. no time like now, right?"

"right..." as you pull out your phone from your pocket, hajime leans in and whispers in your ear, "and once that's over and done with, you should date me instead."

you nearly choke on your own spit. "what?" it's not like you haven't considered it, you definitely have, but you were just never sure if he felt the same. his petnames were endearing, yes, and you appreciated how he'd always bring you snacks and take care of you when you were drunk or whatever, but you didn't want to assume that meant he had feelings for you. who're you kidding, he's basically the boyfriend that stepped up

"you heard me," he pulls back, still looking straight into your eyes, his facial expression unreadable. "don't tell me you haven't thought about it?"

"well, i have but-"

"then what's the problem? because he's my best friend? because you've been together for nearly half a decade? all just sounds like excuses to me," hajime leans back and relax his arms. "you know damn well we're already acting like a couple. i'm just askin' you to be honest with yourself and put a label on it."

you ponder for a second. he's completely right, you've known for a long time. you just needed to hear him say it.

without a single word, you lean in and press your lips against his. a grunt leaves his mouth, probably out of surprise, before his hands cup the sides of your face, pulling you in impossibly closer. what started off as a gentle kiss progressed into a heated makeout, with you straddling his lap, teeth clashing and hands exploring every inch of each other's upper body. when hajime's hands go to unclasp your bra, you pull away.

"wait, wait. let's call him first," you're panting and so is he, desperate to go further, but he removes his hands from under your shirt regardless.

"alright princess, whatever you say." pecking your lips with a laugh, he leans back but keeps two large hands on your thighs.

you press on tooru's contact. after about five rings, it goes to voicemail.

"you've reached oikawa! sorry, i can't take your call right now, leave a message and i'll get back to you. bye!"

"of course this fucker doesn't pick up," you shake your head and laugh, almost tempted to just leave it and let him find out on his own when he decides to come back to japan, whenever that may be.

"leave a message," hajime says, lifting your phone to you. you cock a brow but obey anyways.

"h-hey, tooru..." you stutter a little, his name feeling foreign on your tongue. whilst hajime leaves a trail of feathery kisses along your jaw, you take a breath and decide to let it out, probably the last time you'll talk to this dickweed anyway. "just wanted to say, love the new post! you look hot, and ren too, whoever that is."

feeling hajime's grip tighten on your thighs, you look to see him with a small scrowl on his face. you almost giggle. you don't get to see jealous or possessive hajime often, but when that side of him comes out, you know you're in for a treat. you place a gentle finger to his lips and his hands slither up to your waist.

"you really know how to push my buttons, don't you, doll?" his hushed voice carrying none of the bite he intended.

you smile and continue talking. "seems like you're having plenty of fun without me, so i'll do us both a favour by ending... whatever we've got going on. can you even call it a relationship anymore? probably not, since there's obviously no room f'me. hope you at least appreciated everything i've done to some degree... 'n since you're not gonna spend this holiday with me, i know somebody who will!"

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #iwaizumi x reader #oikawa x reader #iwaizumi hajime #oikawa tooru #fluffmas #angst #anime #haikyuu reader insert #annie writes

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awakenedevildays · 3 months ago

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Omg that not alot just forever fic literally changed the trajectory of my life ive been giggling kicking my feet sliding down the wall in slomo twirling my hair I LOVE UR WRITING STYLE😓🫶🫶🫶

What about a Halloween / autumn inspired fic I'd love that!!

Ur amazing mlll xx

The compliments literally made my week! Thank you for them and for requesting, hope you'll enjoy it 🩷

「Halloween」 Stiles Stilinski x F!reader

━━━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━━━

"A friend of mine is having a Halloween party this weekend, do you want to come with me?" you ask breathlessly after breaking the make out session you two are having in an empty classroom. He grunts in annoyance at the interruption but doesn't let it discourage him as he keeps kissing you even after. "Mh- Stiles?"

"Yeah," Stiles replies distractedly between kisses. "Yeah that sounds cool." His index fingers hook into your belt loops and pulls you closer to him from where you're sat on the teacher's desk, him comfortably snuggled between your thighs.

"Did you even hear a word I just said?" you ask with a chuckle before pushing his face away from yours, your hand squishes his cheeks until his lips pucker up in a funny way.

"Of course I did! halloween party this week end, got it" He says and removes your fingers from his face to kiss your swollen lips again, and again.

"Great! We could- do- a couple costume- let me talk!" Your hands push his chest away from you enough to catch his attention. "Hellooo? You with me?"

"I heard every word" The boy grins widely and places his hands on your waist, gently holding you. "I was just trying to stock up on enough kisses that will last me until the end of the school day." The fake sappiness in his tone makes you roll your eyes.

"boo loser!" You answer and fist his shirt with your fingers to bring him back closer to you, you peck him again.

He chuckles at your reaction and allows you to pull him back, his hands moves from your waist into the back pocket of your jeans and leans a bit over you to speak next to your ear. "What do you think about skipping the rest of our classes?" Stiles mumbles as he leaves kisses on your cheek and jaw.

"we really shouldn't" you answer and, sadly, put and end to your make out session by getting down from the desk, despite Stiles whines and attempts to keep you there.

"I can think of a million reasons of why we should," he protests as you get off the desk. "We have no work due in any classes, the teachers have been pretty boring today and now we have economy with the Coach. You want me to go on or have I made my point?" Stiles says as you grab your purse, and his wrist, to leave the classroom and begin to walk down the empty hallway together.

"Stop being a baby and focus on the costumes. I was thinking of the usuals: angel and devil?" you chose to ignore his complaints.

Stiles intertwines his fingers with yours and follows you easily, keeping up with your pace. "And I guess I would be the devil." He says throwing a wink at you and you snort as response.

"You? please! I would be the devil."

"You? No way. You're too cute to be the devil."

"And you're too innocent." you bite back.

He lets out an offended gasp. "Excuse me? do you remember I was possessed by an evil spirit like- a year ago? You can't stand a chance!"

"You can't alway bring that up as a way to win Stiles!"

"Yes I can! I was literally the perfect vessel for something evil. You can't beat that!"

"Oh my god okay. Let's just change the costumes, what about...Sexy nurse and patient?"

It was his turn to smirk this time. "Shouldn't you find it sexist?"

"Shouldn't you find it hot?" you bite back.

"That depends' would I be the sexy nurse? in that case ye-"

"Put your sarcasm away for a second, Stilinski."

"You act like you don't know me," He giggles to himself, "but seriously, how about something more original. We can't just go with clichés come on."

"What did you have in mind?" you ask as you stop in front of your locker just when the bell rings and signals the start of the next lesson.

He shrugs. "I don't really have anything specific. I just don't want something too cliché like a nurse and a patient..." He trails off, "...what about princess Leia and Han Solo?" he asks with fidgety fingers and red cheeks and you immediately catch what he's implying.

"mhh I wonder why..." you trail off as you close your locker with books in hands.

He lets out a nervous chuckle and rubs the back of his neck. "No reason!" He tries his best to keep his expression as neutral as possible, but the red ears and agitated fingers betray him.

"what a coincidence though... just a few days after watching Return of the Jedi you conveniently get the idea to dress up like in that movie." You rest your shoulder against the lockers and gaze up at him with a smirk.

He stutters a little. "What? it's a pretty cool movie, and- uhh... I thought the outfits were iconic and stuff...yeah... " he says, the excuse sounding less and less believable with each word.

You put the books in your purse. "Which outfit did you find iconic then? say it." Your arms are immediately crossed in front of your chest with a winning expression on your face.

He groans annoyed, "What?! Is it a crime to think you would look hot in Leia's slave costume?" He asks mildly offended.

"ha! I knew it!" you point an accusatory finger at him that he gently swats away.

He lets out a flustered laugh and blushes even more, running a hand through his messy hair under your amused eyes. "Okay, okay. You got me. But can you blame me? You would look so hot."

Your thumb raises to his face to wipe off the lipgloss you accidentally left on his lips. "Thank you baby, but I'm afraid I would freeze my ass off in that costume, what about Morticia and Gomez?"

His eyes light up at the suggestion. "Fuck yes, I'm in!" He sighs almost dreamily at the thought and you can't help but think he would be a great Gomez, considering how he behaves daily with you.

You giggle with your hands now in his hair to fix the messy state they're in (absolutely not your doing). "I'll buy our costumes tomorrow, kay?"

He hums in agreement and basks into the feeling of your fingers in his now... 'presentable' hair, at last you tried. "Goodbye Y/N in the Leia's slave costume, you were brighter than the whole sky." he sighs

You laugh out loud and slap his shoulder lightly, "shut up!"

He chuckles in response, not even trying to defend himself or avoid the playful slap. "I am allowed to have dreams!" your boyfriend playfully pulls grabs your cheeks to look at your face better. "Is someone getting flustered?"

"haha. Before acting so cocky you should see if you would be able to handle the sight." you sass back to try regain your confidence.

"oh trust me, I would be able to handle the sight." Stiles replies with a hint of cockiness before pecking your lips. "In fact, I wouldn't mind if it was an every day sight."

Even if Stiles doesn't notice, you take it as a challenge and you chose to not reply at that, only shake your head at his antics. "Come on, let's go to class, maybe the coach will shut you up for good."

He groans at the comment but follows you in the correct classroom. "If we had stayed in that class you could have silenced me in another way, that's too bad." He says in "fake" disappointment as you both enter the classroom.

"Oh my god what is wrong with you today?!"

The night of the party you're in the bathroom when you hear your front door slam shut, "babe I'm here! Where are you?" you hear his footsteps approach your bedroom and you shake your head at the way he enters in your house undisturbed without even knocking.

"In the bathroom! And for the record, I let you get a copy of my keys for emergencies only." You shout from behind the closed door and you hear your boyfriend huff as he walks into your bedroom, the bathroom's door is the only thing between you two now.

"You should define what is an emergency for you." He replies. "And I never asked for a copy of the key, I just did it"

"... is that suppose to make it better or...?" You ask as you look at yourself in the mirror on last time, the costume is.. something: your chest is covered by a golden bra with multiple metal-like rings that goes around your chest and back, paired with loincloth-style, red skirt supported by the gold waistband with the same decorations as the top and around your neck sits a collar with a small chain that dangles between your breasts. Well... this is humiliating and... hot? Fuck, Stiles turned you into a nerd and you hate it.

"Just a clarification... Are you done in there Morticia?" he jokes from outside and you brush your hair one last time, you love him but there is no way you would have bought the wig too.

"In a sec!" you breathe out, you're kind of nervous about his reaction.

"Okay! Hurry up I'm excited to see! Do you remember that yesterday's was coach's birthday, right?" He says from his laying position on the bed and you take a deep breath before opening the door of the bathroom slowly.

"We threw eggs at his house yesterday nigh, you should have seen his face when he opened th-" He snaps his head up to meet your gaze and his jaw drops at the sight.

You suddenly feel shy in front of him and you fidget with your hands as you wait for him to say something. "Do you... like it?" you ask with anticipation.

It seems like the entire word was stolen from his mouth, his brain was not functioning anymore at the sight of you. "I-" is as all Stiles is able to say as he sits up on the edge of the bed to get a closer look at you and his eyes roaming all over your body.

"Please say something I feel really stupid right now," you giggle nervously and your boyfriend's mouth opens and closes repeatedly like a fish.

"I-uh...I think my brain stopped working." He swallows and gulps loudly, the words, the numerous compliments he wants to throw at you are all stuck are stuck in his throat and it's difficult for him to speak right now. You grin proudly and do a slow twirl around to make him see everything, careful not to flash him considering the fact you're not wearing anything underneath the skirt... it's not like you're actually planning on making you or Stiles leave this room tonight so why bother ruining the fit. "Fuck." He stands up from the edge of the bed and walks towards you with long strides.

He stops just a few inches away from you and gazes down at your figure. "You look so gorgeous" he breathes out and a hand goes to hold one of your hips, the sudden need to touch you is making his fingers itch uncomfortably as his eyes stay fixed on the golden rings around your chest.

You let out a genuine laugh and take him in too, he's clad in the iconic striped suit Gomez wears, with a cute bow tied around his neck and hair slicked back neatly. "You look really good," you compliment him with a smirk and you receive a bewildered look as response.

"Me? I look good!? Look at you! I'm pretty sure I'm hallucinating right now this can't be real." He scoffs and takes a step back to admire you all over again, "fucking hell, you look unreal."

"Where did the cocky Stiles of a few days ago go?" you ask sarcastically as you walk towards him again, your hands on his chest to push him back until the back of his legs hits the mattress.

He lets out a huff as he's shoved backwards onto the bed, he bounces on it a couple of times and then looks up at you as you stand in front of him. "Gone. Gone, forever. He won't ever utter a word againohmygod" He almost promises in a groan when you straddle his lap.

You nod satisfied in a thought-so manner and adjust your position on his thighs. "Now, do you want me to change into the Morticia costume and go to the party or-"

"The second option. Whatever that is I don't care, we're staying here tonight." he answers firmly and his hands immediately go to your hips under the skirt.

You nod in amusement, "that sounds perfect," you lean in to kiss his lips but he sadly interrupts you, gesturing to your costume with timid eyes.

"... is there any chance you could keep this on?"

"Well I bought it for a reason, didn't I?" You ask as you untie the bow at his neck and he literally moans.

"Just when I thought you couldn't be anymore perfect."

━━━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━━━

Hope you enjoyed, recommendations, suggestions and requests are always welcome and open! <3

Do not copy or repost.

#madsstiles💌#stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski x you #stiles x reader #stiles stilinski drabble #stiles stilinski #teen wolf stiles #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf x y/n #teen wolf

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possessedmen · 16 hours ago

Text

In the quiet suburban home, late on an evening that would forever change the dynamics within, Alex returned from his walk to find an unexpected scene unfolding in the dimly lit hallway. There, on the floor, was his stern widowed stepfather Mark, but not as Alex had ever known him. Mark was sweaty, only in underwear with is cock out, his chest heaving with exertion, as if he just put out a fight. and he was in his underwear.

Uncensored pic

As Alex stood frozen, the sight before him was both shocking and strangely magnetic. Mark's eyes, filled with a perverse delight, met Alex's, and a grin that was not his own spread across his face. "Do you like what you see?" Mark's voice was thick with an allure that was entirely new and unsettling as he started stroking his cock, circling his thumb around the tip with a sleazy moan escaping his lips.

Another NSFW set

Instead of recoiling in horror, something within Alex shifted. He had always harbored a secret crush on Mark, a feeling he had kept buried deep. He calmly asked who he was, since this was so uncharacteristic for Mark. Mark responded “I suppose I can tell you since you’re not in a hurry to get me out of this hunky body. It’s me, your next door neighbour Mr. Hanson. I have to tell you, Mark has been getting a lot on my nerves lately, but this body son? This is something else, so I figured that I would take over his body to be younger again and I hoped and guessed that you wouldn’t protest it since he shouted at you constantly.”

Seeing Mark like this, under the control of their neighbor Mr. Hanson, who had cursed him during a dispute, flipped a switch in Alex's mind. The perverted display, the lewd manipulation of Mark's body by the neighbor's spirit, only served to heighten Alex's fascination. Mark’s body stood up and started slapping the cock against his palm to tease Alex further. As Mark continued to tease himself, moaning about his sensitivity, Alex found himself stepping closer, his heart pounding with a mix of forbidden excitement and acceptance. "Oh, you should feel this, son. I'm amazed by his sensitivity," the neighbour controlling Mark purred.

Instead of fighting the situation, Alex embraced it, his voice soft but clear, "Daddy, I... I like it. I like what I see." The word 'daddy' slipped out, a term he had never used for Mark before, but it felt right in this twisted scenario.

The entity inside Mark laughed, a sound that was both Mark's and not, reveling in the control it had and the unexpected reaction from Alex. "Good boy," it cooed, continuing to play with Mark's body in a manner that was both vulgar and intimate, yet now it seemed to be for Alex's benefit as well.

Alex, now fully embracing the neighbor in his stepfather, moved closer, his own desires merging with the bizarre reality before him. He knelt beside Mark, his eyes locked with the possessed man's, a silent agreement forming between them. This was not the Mark he knew, but in this moment, under the influence of Mr. Hanson's perverse spirit, Alex found a connection he had longed for, albeit in a way he could never have imagined.

The night was young, and as Alex accepted this new reality, the boundaries of their relationship were redrawn in the most unconventional way, leading them into uncharted territory where Alex's secret feelings could finally surface, albeit under the most unusual of circumstances.

#male takeover #identity theft #male possession

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altcvnningham · 1 month ago

Text

of a demon in my view

william “case” calderon x f!reader

summary: when the team return to the rook after visiting the science facility in kentucky you hear a bump in the night. good thing case is back to protect you, right? (takes place after the 'emergence' mission. inspired by this post. please heed the tags!!) read on ao3

tags/cw: nsfw, dubious consent, f!reader, angst, (case is) under the influence (of the cradle), rough sex, size difference/kink, biting, choking, case is hung, animalistic/primal behaviour?? i guess?? reader is confused but loves case too much, case is obsessed w reader, aftercare (ish), author goes mad with power at the use of italics wc: 4.8k

a/n: umm sorry to case + the case enjoyers, i wish i’d written something softer for him first... trust that my first full nsfw fic on here would be icky nasty dubcon w poor confused reader. promise she likes it. since there’s not a whole lot of case content to base his characterisation on, i hope this suffices!! shoutout to lovely lacie @dearlydevoured, case's actual irl gf who put up w my brainrot while i wrote this <3 title from “alone”, edgar allan poe.

You wake gasping.

The bedroom is pitch black, offering little but a sliver of moonlight to orient yourself, cutting the room split in two as you try to discern what the hell that sound was. A slam, booming like thunder and carried in with the draft and the dust. It takes much to hear it across the old house, the Rook as big as it is barren, and it takes much more again to wake you. But whatever it is, it had, and your body jolts in its instinct to get up and investigate.

But as you do, you stop. You’re half a leg out of bed and a finger upon the nearby flashlight when you catch something in your periphery. You don’t even look at it head on- the figure in the open door. Just stare ahead at the wall and freeze, trying to clock if whatever stands there has spotted you sooner than you’d spotted it.

Any other night, Case would have awoken before you. Hell, he would have dealt with the problem himself before you’d even stirred. But the space in the bed where he usually sleeps is cold, and it had been all night- they’d left for Kentucky a couple days ago now, and you hadn’t received much word in between. Only a call from Marshall on the way back, to keep an eye on Case when he returns. That he wasn’t quite right.

But you know Case better than anyone. You know he already isn’t really quite right as he is; you never minded it, the odd pauses between words and the bitten tongue, like he’s always holding something back, or the distant way he sometimes seems to regard you from across a room, before the colour floods back to his face and he finds the courage to smile. Whatever warmth you possess encourages a similar feeling in himself, and Case had found himself sweet on you quicker than he would most. He sees in you a kindred spirit, maybe. A missing piece. Enough that when he sleeps next to you, the screaming stops. Most nights.

But whatever it is in the door, you’re almost sure it isn’t Case. Almost. Until—

Breathing. Quick, shallow, raspy. For a second it doesn’t even sound human, until you recognise it- the same sound when he wakes from a nightmare, the same panting in your ear when you hold him tight and let him ride it out. The fear, primal, pacified by your patience and care. Your heart tugs- it’s him. You know it’s him.

With that knowledge alone enough to brave your panic, you turn your head to the open door, and regard the figure stood in it with an embarrassed laugh.

“Oh, god, Case. It’s you. Jesus,” you huff, a hand clutched to your chest. “Scared the shit out of me.”

A smile, sheepish, spreads over your lips as he just stands there in the doorway, filling it with his shadow. Tall, stocky, broad-shouldered as he is, arms held stiffly at his sides as he just stands there, shapeless face cast in darkness. His hulking figure eclipsing the moonlight trying to come in from the hallway windows. You can’t see his expression, only the whites of his eyes, and though it’s hard to tell at first, they look to be open wide. And staring at you.

Your smile slowly drops. You sit up.

“Case? What’s wrong?”

But he doesn’t talk. Doesn’t say anything. Just- fucking- just stands there- just you and him, locked eyes, for a fleeting moment feeling like prey and predator at a stand-off in a too-open clearing. Vulnerable, is the feeling that creeps up your spine and staples you there, still and rigid in the bed.

There’s a pause. He blinks. You think he snaps out of whatever daze he’s in, because he comes into the room and kicks the door shut with his heel, but where he’d usually sigh, sit on the bed, and undress, he just moves straight towards you. Unhurried, but urgent. Single-minded in his pursuit.

Case’s knee dips into the mattress, sinking under his weight, and though you aren’t scared you feel the urge to move back into the bed, hitting the headboard in your scuffle.

“Case, you’re still dressed,” you worry, voice lilted like a question. He must suddenly notice, or perhaps hear your concern, because he glances down at himself, though decidedly mustn’t care at all- even as you go for the zipper of his windbreaker yourself, he’s wholly intent instead on closing in on you. Scarred hands curl around the headboard as he leans in to kiss you- no, to- smell you? He noses your hair, behind your ear, licking a greedy stripe up the side of your neck. You do your best to ignore it, focusing your quivering fingers upon the zipper, and somehow you manage to push the jacket off him and onto the floor. His hands are immediately on you then, dug into the back of your hair and cradling your skull as he kisses sharply along your jaw, your cheek, the corners of your babbling mouth.

“H-hey, um,” is all you can manage as you’re jostled by his movements. He isn’t rough, isn’t even hurting you, but his fingers dig into your arms and pull at your hair in a way that’s unfamiliar, uncharacteristically desperate, like you’ll slip into dust any second. It’s enough to make you wince. “Case- Case, c’mon. Talk to me. Whatever’s wrong, we can—”

“Want you.” Is all he says.

“What?”

“Want you,” he repeats, an animal grunt in an octave you’ve never heard before. It thrills you as much as it frightens you, but you steel your focus, more concerned than you are anything else. That excitement that tingles at the base of your spine is unimportant, insignificant in the grand scheme, when he’s acting so strange.

“Case, I think you should sit down a sec,” you say, trying gently to pry his hands off you, but he won’t budge. He’s stronger than you- much stronger- and before you can open your mouth to protest his hands are on your waist, pulling you out of the bed and stringing you out atop the blanket like you weigh nothing. “Wh- oh!”

You land with a hiccup, disoriented as he climbs on top of you, and in your befuddled state you’re half worried about shoes on the bed as he wedges a leg between yours, coarse grey cargo pants chafing your sleep-soft thighs. A tiny yip makes its way out of you as you bear the sudden weight of him- as is always so stifling, yet now seems suffocating- a thick scarred forearm braced in the pillow beside your head as he buries his nose in your neck, not quite kissing but breathing you in, huffing like a dog, something primal, savage.

It’s so unfamiliar, and yet so like Case; never having seen him this way but always sensed, known, that there lingered in him something like this, some growling thing seated deep inside just waiting to get out, biding its time and snarling. It frightens you, but not enough to fight it off. Just enough to lay there and let whatever thing that’s reared its ugly head in him feel you out, get its bearings of the girl trembling beneath him.

You catch a scent on his shirt then, tart as it wrinkles your nose. It’s a strange smell, acrid, not entirely unpleasant but foreign to you- like chemicals or detergent, coppery like blood but lacking its warmth. It clings to Case’s clothes like something parasitic. You breathe it in, and strangely it has a texture, almost like smoke, but whatever it is your body rejects it, tangled in a cough as your vision blurs. It’s enough then to just let him close over you as he likes, pressing your face to his hair instead as he mouths at your neck, starved.

You’re burned by the heat of him. Heavy as he envelopes himself around you, greedy hands moving down your body to touch and grab and grope, undecided whether he wants to be gentle, whether he can be, calloused hands like sandpaper as he slides them under your shirt. Your own hands try to turn his jaw so you might see his face and deduce the expression into an answer, a reasoning for his behaviour. But every touch you give has him shuddering beneath you, near enough purring as he careens his cheek into your hand, lapping up your warmth.

Case feels like he’s on fire. Tunnel-visioned. Drunk, almost. He’d cooled off whatever substance he’d breathed in that facility on the flight back to Bulgaria, but part of it still sticks to him like sap, simmering and seething all red and angry in a place inside he can’t reach. He’d claw it out of himself if he could, if he had the guts, but he swears he could smell you from the fucking front door- and by then it was over, decided for him before he even knew what he was doing. Something else took hold then, brutish and hungry, overcome with the base animal need to stalk, hunt, fuck.

His hands run down your body, kissing wetly into your open palm. You whimper frantic and confused as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of your panties and tugs them down your legs, falling frail as petals somewhere off the bed. You gasp as he pushes himself forward, hips bullying your legs apart, while he peels back your shirt to knead your breasts and latch his mouth upon a perked nipple with a moan.

“Hey, slow- slow down,” you rasp, barely a whisper, dying on an open-mouthed sigh as a spike of pleasure needles you. You can’t help it. It’s him, Case, always so soft with you, so slow and gentle, now pawing at you like he’d sooner die than go without touching you. Your hands knot into his hair as he sucks at your nipple, tangled at the base of his neck, unsure whether you’re trying to push him off or pull him closer. “I think we should- just- calm down and—“

“No,” Case says, a low noise, almost strangled as he unlatches himself from you, shaking his head. He sounds pained, sick, emitting a whine as he unfolds himself, hands wrestling with his belt. In your sudden shyness, feeling all too exposed, you pull your shirt down and make a move to close your legs, but Case’s hand nudges your knee, as thoughtless as if he were swatting a fly as he pries them back open.

“Gotta have you now, baby, I-I gotta,” he mumbles, repeating it under his breath over and over like a mantra. Is it for you to hear? Is it for himself? You don’t know. But even as you try and move his hand away it’s a hopeless thing. He’s firm, resolute. Won’t so much as let you budge. He slides his belt off with one hand, shoving his cargo pants and boxers down his hips, and stamps your arm back at the side of your head with the other, wrenched tight around your wrist.

“O-ow, careful, Case—”

Your words are cut short by a jarring thud. His cock thumps thick and heavy against your tummy, and wide-eyed, you freeze. Oh. Case tugs around the base to give it some hopeless attention, something, anything to take the edge off. The shock of it all pulls out a breathless whine from you. He’s never usually so forward. He rocks himself slow against you, moving his hips down, nudging your clit with the leaking head of his aching dick. It’s- it’s so much that you don’t know whether to stop him or just surrender, craning your neck down to try and catch a glimpse of- of—

Fuck, you forget how big it is. Every time. It always looks so much more intimidating than it feels, but that’s because Case has always been careful with you, patient, always working you up on his fingers first before even attempting to split you open on him, even then only feeding you inch by tentative inch until he’s seated nice and deep inside you. Eager, but takes his time with you, never in any rush to give his sweet girl what she needs.

But you have the feeling that this time is different. Not- not bad, but- different. His hands are hard on you, bruising, kisses impatient and starving, even the way he’s slowly fucking his tip against your clit, hazy-eyed and mindless as he watches himself slide the length of his shaft between your folds, so pink and sweet- it’s maddening. It’s only then that you realise you’re moaning, bleating like cornered prey.

As if suddenly reminded of the fact he ought to prep you, he shoves two fingers unceremoniously into his mouth, sucking them wet before pulling them out with a pop and delving his hand between your legs. It’s done so fast you flinch, a panicked sound pulled out of you. His usual patience is swapped with hurried desperation, a flit of his eyes to yours- your lips, your face, God, the prettiest thing he’s seen in his life- measuring your reaction. Your shock and confusion must be evident in your wilted expression, because he moves his fingers just a little slower, watching with enamoured reverence as your face flushes hot, savouring the way he can see the thoughts just spill out of your head like honey as it empties itself for him. So, so pretty.

“U-um—” you stammer, as dumb as the day you were born. You want to say something, want him to say something, but your mind goes blank. Whatever good sense might linger is gone- there’s only Case, much too broad and much too big in your bed as he looms over you. He slides his fingers against your clit, tender with need; he thumbs at your slick entrance, soaking his knuckle as he teases against it, and moans at how reflexively it clenches around him, begging to be filled. How badly it wants him. He barely humours your poor, needy pussy as he slides his middle finger inside, thick as it stretches you, just about managing the first knuckle before you keen, body bowing into him.

“G-God, Case, please—”

Sobriety spurs vaguely into him then, the light coming back into his eyes as he blinks down at you, strewn like a blushing favour over the pillow. His perfect girl, his. As he looks at you, he slides his finger out of you slowly, relishing with a faraway look on his face the way you crumple and cry, grasping at his wrist to try and pull him back in again. He thinks he’d go mad for it. For you, he thinks he’d die.

“S’okay,” he grumbles under his breath, a click of his tongue as he tuts at you like one might a skittish animal. He pulls back, lining his cock up with your soaked entrance, his pupils blown black, drunk. “I’m gonna make it better. M’gonna make it better, baby, I promise.”

He has to make it better. Has to. Has to apologise for what he’s doing, how he’s acting- he has to apologise for what he is, the thing growling inside him, tearing, clawing, screaming to get out—

He’s still sucking the syrup of you off his fingers as he pushes himself inside you, eyes rolling into the back of his head with a loud, broken groan. He’s so lost to the white haze of bliss for a second as your slick heat all but swallows him in, pushing only a little resistance at the sudden intrusion and God, he knows you’re not used to it so quick, so soon, but you’re his good girl, his baby, and he knows you can take it.

And you’re not quite used to the stretch even on a good day- feeling it rip into you now is near agony. Your mouth opens wide but not a sound comes out. Useless anyway, given Case bends down and closes his own around it, tongue delving hot inside to seek yours. It’s so fast and so much that you barely find time to adjust, just letting your mouth loll open and surrender itself to him as he tongues you, trying so hard to focus on accommodating to his cock pushing- forcing- its way into you, too much, too much, too big—

The hand around your wrist loosens as though some pliant drug has washed cold over him, and you open your eyes for just a second, enough to catch the way his dilate, black melting into the white before he sinks himself all the way inside you. Filling you to the hilt, suffocating. Bliss is written into every line of his face, softening as he lets out a whine. He bottoms out, and you see it in him- complete and utter relief. Some awful agony in him quelled immediately, his body slack against yours. He feels, in you, complete. Home.

It’s evident enough that it puts you at ease, whatever it is that’s compelled him like this. He’s not trying to hurt you. You don’t think. He’s just rather like a big dog that believes itself to be no larger than a puppy, unaware of its own weight and strength. Case’s body goes almost flat atop yours and the only way he notices at all is how it pushes a wheeze out of you, a silent beg for release.

But just then you feel his hips pulling back, cock sliding out of you inch by agonising inch. A whimpering plea is all you’re given to let out before he slams back into you again and fuck, it’s too much, he’s too big, you’re not used to—

“F-fuck, Case, wait—”

Your legs tremor involuntarily as they part further to let him closer, let him in, his hips welded to yours as he buries himself right to the fucking root of you. Case groans, delirious as his face falls against your shoulder.

“Oh, fuck.”

“Case- s’too much, you’re—”

“I know, baby, I know,” he coos, an attempt at comfort that leaves you dizzier than it does much else. He licks a wet kiss to your neck, meant to calm you, but only riles himself up more, setting off a dormant bloodthirst in him; he does it again, and this time he- he bites you.

You squeal. “O-ow!”

Like an apology he can’t voice he laps his tongue flat against your skin, mulling hungrily over the bitten flesh like he’s savouring it. It’s only when he’s sated himself on you that his hips start moving, slow, languid thrusts that quicken each time you yelp, hurried pace picking up once he feels you clench reflexively around him.

And he’s usually so gentle when he fucks you, almost hesitant, always like he’s half afraid of breaking you. Not like this. He fucks into you mindlessly, a rabid thing with a single razor sharp splinter of desire- you. Wants you. Has to have you, has to split you open and- take you. Fuck you so there’s nothing left in him to think of or breathe in but you. Every thrust is merciless and messy, Case pounding into you again and again as the sound of him fucking into your wet cunt smacks luridly in the air; loud enough that it makes you wince, cringing to hear yourself so shamelessly, how your body makes itself so slick and malleable just for him. His hips slam into you faster than you can take it- but you can take it, you can, he insists, demands it, grunting it into your ear, baby, please, jus’ take it for me, take it take it take it—

Your orgasm slams into you, a violent punch that singes you hot-white and blind; your thighs clench around his hips of their own accord and pull him in even deeper- as if there’s any more room- unbidden as you cry out, wailing helplessly as he just- keeps- fucking you. Wave after wave of pleasure drowning you over and over and over. It almost terrifies you, how willingly gone your body leaves itself, all sense and reason fleeing you all to make room for this- him.

You babble incomprehensibly as you ride it out, words lost in your throes of euphoria, smothered completely beneath the sweet and tender violence of him, your ravaged cunt milking and just taking him in its refusal to let go.

You don’t know if you’re crying- it all feels so good you can barely make sense of where you are- but through the red haze of it all you feel Case’s hand cup your cheek, caress your face, mumbling choked apologies into your shoulder as he keeps impaling you on his cock, chasing his pleasure into you. It’s the sweetest thing, his voice very almost pathetic, incongruous to the way the rest of him seems dead-set on pummelling you into the mattress as he garbles a knotted string of I’m sorry, baby, can’t help it, s’too good, I’m sorry—

As if you’d even care if he wasn’t. As if you wouldn’t let him break you and cradle the pieces in his mottled hands. As if you wouldn’t let him carve out a home inside of you, broken and bloodied, and nestle himself within. Where no one can hurt him ever again, where nobody could ever find him. Nobody but you.

You’d promise him that much, you think- the times when he wakes up screaming in the night, when he sits up in bed and stares empty at the wall, when mid-conversation he’s just suddenly stunned into white-noise silence, the Case you know, the Case that’s yours, absent for but a moment. Replaced by something else entirely, something you’re not quite sure you recognise. You take him then, like you take him now, your body so dumb and fragile in his big arms as he fucks you hard, cock punching into you so bad you go dizzy.

And isn’t this much like that? Don’t you love him even now, as he is? While he violently breaks you?

“C-Case,” you choke, his chest pressed so tightly to yours you can hardly breathe. His hand snakes up your neck, closing around your throat with a satisfied moan, stars dotted in your view. You feel something cresting again, down your legs, up your spine, the back of your neck— “Oh, god, Case, please, I’m gonna—”

But you don’t know what you’re gonna. It hits you before you can even find out. You come again, you think, some viciously delectable feeling severing you and flinging your body straight up off the mattress, holding him to you, begging him closer, as though he could be any more than he already was. Flesh melting into flesh, sweat sticky and waxen, indistinguishable from his. Inseparable. As you cry out again, he groans, thick and low and not quite human, spilling himself so deep inside you that you feel it pooling hot in your gut, molten sweet; your own climax is slow, tender agony, gorging you open, rippling warm and pink behind closed eyes like the thin warbling of blood in water… and then… and then…

It’s a short moment later, or maybe a few, when the black spots in your vision clear.

You’re staring up at the ceiling, cracked white, a picture much like Case’s eyes had been in the doorway, veins struck blood lightning across marble sclera. He’s there too, you can hear him, his voice a distant echo as you feel large hands cup your face, your whole world oscillating.

It’s bliss. It’s perfect. You lie there, barely coming to, your body sinking into the mattress as though you weren’t even there, floating, feeling so, so nice.

When the shadow pulls over your vision, you smile. Case holds himself over you, his thumb peeling back your eyelid, letting out a choked sound of relief when your eyes, lucid, finally fix on him.

“Oh- oh, thank god- oh- baby, I’m so—”

He scoops you up like a ragdoll in his arms, clutching you so tight to his chest that you can feel the erratic thrumming of his heart, quick as a rabbit’s to the slow drum of yours. A series of strangled noises leave him as he buries his face into your shoulder, wet, whether from kisses or crying, you don’t know- but you know that you love him, and he’s yours. It’s the only thing on your emptied mind as your face burrows against him, breathing him in. That strange chemical smell is long gone now, enveloping you back into the warm embrace of pine and petrichor, the smell of home. Of him. It’s all you can think of, the only thing you can form into words, when you mumble, exhausted, into his chest.

“‘Love you, Case.”

And he must hear it, because his heartbeat slows then, decelerating a steady hum to match your own. His death grip on you loosens, his body going slack as he falls into you. Whatever noise that screams endless in his mind seems to cease, because through it all he hears you, hushing and cooing at him as you pull your fingers softly up his arm, pulling him slowly, slowly, down into bed. You stay still as he sifts frantic hands over you, smoothing you over like he’s trying to keep the shape of you, checking you like he would for bruises. You know this is his way of taking care of you, of fixing you, of making everything right and keeping his precious baby together with all her pieces intact; he kisses you slow but trembling, lips finding every swath of skin he knows he’s bitten, pinched, groped too hard.

“Didn’t mean to,” he murmurs, quiet and worriedly into your hair. He kisses, again and again. “Didn’t mean to be so rough. Didn’t mean—”

“I know,” you whisper, “it’s okay. I’m okay. Look- feel.”

You find his hand in the dark, pulling it around yourself to press it against your chest, your heart beating heavy against his palm. You keep it there, proof of your wellness, showing him you’re unharmed. Where it matters, anyway. You’re so strung out from your orgasm that all you can do, want to do, is just lie there and hold him, body limp and satisfied in spite of it all.

It’s just that, then, quiet, the soft sounds of his breathing slowing in time to yours, a conscious effort to calm himself, to prove to you that he can be, that he isn’t that thing that lingered in the doorway glowering at you- to prove to himself that he isn’t a monster.

He tells you again that he’s sorry, but you just tut your forgiveness and shake your head, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. And he tries to tell you why, but when he opens his mouth, no words come out. Just the voice in the back of his head again, the knife kept lodged in his throat all this time. We don’t talk about that. His vision warps, chromatic as he blinks away pictures of the lab, the lights, the Cradle. We can’t talk about that.

Case just sighs then, settling into your arms and cocooning himself around you like he’s not the very thing he’s trying to protect you from. He thinks he tells you he loves you too- that, at least, he knows is his- but he isn’t sure if you hear, fallen asleep before you can utter a response.

He just looks at you, and he’s completely besotted. Utterly and madly. He kisses you sweet and gentle, stamping his one last apology as soft fingers thread through your hair. He’ll fix it, he vows, for you, for you. Then he slides in next to you, curling his arms around your tummy to pull you in close, swearing until he falls asleep to make good on that promise. Then, as sleep slowly takes him, there are no more bumps in the night.

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goryhorroor · 11 months ago

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Upcoming horror movies (some without release years) - not in order

Longlogs - FBI Agent Lee Harker is assigned to an unsolved serial killer case that takes an unexpected turn, revealing evidence of the occult. Harker discovers a personal connection to the killer and must stop him before he strikes again.

Nosferatu - A gothic tale of obsession between a haunted young woman and the terrifying vampire infatuated with her, causing untold horror in its wake.

Bermuda - Unknown details but it will be set in the mysterious patch of the Caribbean where planes and ships have gone missing over the years.

Twisters (ok thriller but imma count it because i can) - A sequel to the 1996 film about stormchasing scientists studying tornados.

Immaculate - Cecilia is warmly welcomed to the picture-perfect Italian countryside, where she is offered a new role at an illustrious convent. But it becomes clear to Cecilia that her new home harbors dark and horrifying secrets.

Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire - The film centers on the Spengler family as they return to where it all started – the iconic New York City firehouse – to team up with the original Ghostbusters, who’ve developed a top-secret research lab to take busting ghosts to the next level. But when the discovery of an ancient artifact unleashes an evil force, Ghostbusters new and old must join forces to protect their home and save the world from a second Ice Age.

Mickey's Mouse Trap - follows a group of friends who become targets of a serial killer dressed as Mickey Mouse

Imaginary - When Jessica moves back into her childhood home with her family, her youngest stepdaughter Alice develops an eerie attachment to a stuffed bear named Chauncey she finds in the basement. Alice's games with Chauncey become increasingly sinister, and Jessica intervenes only to realize Chauncey is much more than the stuffed toy bear she believed him to be.

Skeletons in the Closet - Haunted by a malevolent spirit since childhood, a desperate mother allows herself to become possessed in order to save the life of her terminally ill daughter.

Lisa Frankenstein - love story about a misunderstood teenager and her high school crush, who happens to be a handsome corpse. After a set of playfully horrific circumstances bring him back to life, the two embark on a murderous journey to find love, happiness… and a few missing body parts along the way.

Winnie The Pooh: Blood & Honey 2 - oh yay? I guess a sequel

Adrift - It is described as a supernatural ghost story set aboard a ship. It is an adaptation of a short story by Koji Suzuki

Dustbunny - It follows a young girl who asks her neighbor to help her kill a monster under her bed after she thinks it has eaten her family.

Faces of Death - follows a woman who discovers violent videos that recreate death scenes from movies online.

Heretic - two religious women who become the focus of a strange man's games.

History of Evil - In the near future, war and corruption have plagued America and turned it into a theocratic police state. Against the oppression, ordinary citizens have formed a group called The Resistance. One such member, Alegre Dyer, breaks out of political prison and reunites with her husband Ron and daughter Daria. On the run from the militia, the family takes shelter in a remote safe house. But their journey is far from over, as the house’s dark past begins to eat away at Ron, and his earnest desire to keep his family safe is overtaken by something much more sinister.

MaXXXine - Six years after the ‘Texas Pornhouse Massacre’, Maxine is now LA-based and on a driven quest to become a star in the acting world. But things take a sinister turn when bodies once again begin to fall around her.

Dracula - A futuristic sci-fi western version of Dracula.

Apartment 7A - Prequel to the 1968 film Rosemary’s Baby.

Baghead - follows a young woman who inherits a run-down pub and discovers a dark secret within its basement. Enter Baghead - a shape-shifting creature that will let you speak to lost loved ones, but not without consequence.

Out of Darkness - In the Old Stone Age, a disparate gang of early humans band together in search of a new land. But when they suspect a malevolent, mystical, being is hunting them down, the clan are forced to confront a danger they never envisaged.

Stopmotion - stop-motion animator by the name of Ella whose latest project might just be driving her to the brink of madness.

Late Night with the Devil - 1970s talk show host Jack Delroy on his last legs, wrung out by personal tragedy and in need of a ratings win. His plan to feature as a guest a young girl who is allegedly possessed seems like a Halloween night layup… until the cameras roll and all hell literally breaks loose.

You'll Never Find Me - An isolated man living at the back of a desolate caravan park is visited by a desperate young woman seeking shelter from a violent storm. As the savage storm worsens, these solitary souls begin to feel threatened – but who should really be afraid?

The First Omen - When a young American woman is sent to Rome to begin a life of service to the church, she encounters a darkness that causes her to question her own faith and uncovers a terrifying conspiracy that hopes to bring about the birth of evil incarnate. (this might be a prequel to the omen)

Abigail - After a group of would-be criminals kidnap the 12-year-old ballerina daughter of a powerful underworld figure, all they have to do to collect a $50 million ransom is watch the girl overnight. In an isolated mansion, the captors start to dwindle, one by one, and they discover, to their mounting horror, that they’re locked inside with no normal little girl.

Return to Silent Hill - James, a man broken after being separated from his one true love. When a mysterious letter calls him back to Silent Hill in search of her, he finds a once-recognizable town transformed by an unknown evil. As James descends deeper into the darkness, he encounters terrifying figures both familiar and new and begins to question his own sanity as he struggles to make sense of reality and hold on long enough to save his lost love.

Infested - invasion of venomous spiders, forcing residents of a suburban building to find a way out.

Tarot - Tarot follows a group of friends who recklessly violate the sacred rule of Tarot readings – never use someone else’s deck. In the wake of broken rules, consequences follow, this time in the form of unleashing an unspeakable evil trapped within the cursed cards.

The Strangers Chapter 1 - a couple, have to survive the night while being terrorized by masked strangers in a remote Airbnb in Oregon

The Watchers - the film follows a young woman who becomes trapped with three strangers in a shelter deep within a forest in Ireland where the group must fight off mysterious creatures every night in order to survive.

Never Let Go - a family who has been tormented by an evil spirit for years as their lives become more dangerous when one of the kids questions if the evil is real.

The One - Follows character Taylor as she becomes a contestant on a reality TV dating show to find love. Taylor's experience takes a turn as she gets down to the final three and becomes terrified of not finding love (with a horror twist)

Thread: An Insidious Tale - new actors who play a husband and wife who use a spell to travel back in time to prevent their daughter's death, which has worse consequences than imagined

Weapons - The movie is about the disappearance of high school students in a small town, similar to the movie Magonlia's from 1999

A Quiet Place: Day One - New characters in New York

Alien: Romulus - takes place between the first & second movies

Beetlejuice 2 - not much is known about the plot details, but Beetlejuice will have a wife & Lydia's daughter will be in it

Speak No Evil: this is the English remake (all it really says; but it's just the 2022 movie but English?)

Smile 2 - it's a sequel but no details have been revealed

Terrifer 3 - not too many details revealed but it will take place on Christmas Eve

Wolfman - not too many details revealed but it's a new take on the werewolf tale

I Saw The TV Glow - Teenager Owen is just trying to make it through life in the suburbs when his classmate introduces him to a mysterious late-night TV show — a vision of a supernatural world beneath their own. In the pale glow of the television, Owen’s view of reality begins to crack.

Don't Move - A seasoned killer injects a grieving woman with a paralytic agent and she must run, fight and hide before her body completely shuts down.

Arcadian - Nicolas Cage comes back to save the day - and his children - from ferocious creatures at their remote farmhouse.

All My Friends Are Dead - College friends? Remote Airbnb? A secret murderer? What could go wrong in this classic toxic friend group killing spree? Looking forward to attending the biggest music fest of the year, this group of friends get together for what should be a killer weekend.

Monolith - It is about a disgraced journalist who investigates a conspiracy theory while trying to salvage her career.

some movies coming out maybe not this year but have been floating around: The Toxic Avenger (I think remake), Witchboard (remake), Year 2 (about werewolves), Shelby Oaks (A woman's desperate search for her long-lost sister falls into obsession upon realizing that the imaginary demon from their childhood may have been real), Salem's Lot (remake), Little Bites ('70s-set monster movie that highlights the lengths a parent will go to protect a child), The Crow (Reboot), Jordan Peele's untitled movie, I've also seen there's going to be another Saw (but it hasn't been confirmed), and another Scream (but that production is already a trainwreck so who knows)

#horror #horror movies #horror cinema #dracula #the crow #terrifier 3 #saw #scream #alien #beetlejuice 2 #smile 2

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deluxewhump · 9 months ago

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I Know You Remember Me

John recognizes a wealthy client’s stolen pet immediately, even filthy, with two black eyes. He moves quickly to buy him back from the box truck driver in possession of him, and then must think what to do about this. Meanwhile, he looks after the abused pet in a motel room.

CW: lay it on thick hurt/comfort, pet whump universe (not bbu), caretaker has some ulterior motives but is largely sympathetic, offscreen noncon with multiple whumpers, sti mention, underweight whumpee mention, whumpee offering sex, bruises, burns & cigarette burns, nonsexual nudity and bathing, platonic bed-sharing, medically inaccurate care I’m sure, one shot probably

“I know you remember me. I’m sure I remember you.”

The unfortunate creature— for he looked more a creature than a boy in the low light, in the filthy west Texas motel room John had rented for the night with cash— dared to steal a glance up at him.

His eyes were dark, and bright with fear. Bruises ringed both of them like an unlucky fighter, purple as the Easter cloth draped on all the crosses they’d driven past. John knew from the taut look of the eyelids they’d been swollen shut a day or so earlier. The boy pet had dried blood caked in his nostrils and on one side of his downturned mouth. His hair was a matted and filthy mop that fell over his forehead and ears in greasy, wavy sections crusted together with more old blood.

The boy looked at him cautiously. There was too much fear in his posture, in his eyes. It was impossible to tell if he recognized John, too.

John squatted down to be eye level. As he thought it might, this made the frightened pet drop his eyes and flatten his spine as best he could against the nicotine stained paint of the motel wall.

“Hey, now,” John murmured, as if to one of his racehorses. They were spirited, flighty things, nothing like the quarter horses he’d grown up with. He talked to them all the same, though, from the spring colts to the swaybacked veterans.

“I’m not gonna hurt you. I know you’ve seen a lot of people lately, huh? You probably don’t remember me. That’s okay. I remember you. You were at Jack Kinsington’s place before all this.”

The boy did not look back up at him, and his dirty hair gave away his trembling, but he was listening.

“I came by with a couple of horses. Bays, both of them. Soaked in sweat and prancing all around, you remember them? They’re high strung, they don’t like to ride in the trailer. Anyway, I told Jack he ought to let you stretch your legs. He did, but you were so numb you couldn’t stand for a while. You looked right at me.”

The boy turned his head an inch, so he could glance up at John’s face again.

“You remember that day. Sure you do. I thought you were in rough shape then, but I have to say, you look worse now.”

That lost him the eye contact. That was okay. The boy remembered. If not his face, then the incident.

“I thought it was awfully cruel to keep you in a space that small,” he went on. “I don’t know how some people do to a person what they wouldn’t do to an animal. They justify it, I guess. They project things onto these pets they buy and then they punish them for it. Gives them their kicks. Even Jack Kinsington, who I have to admit I respected up until that day.”

He stopped that train of thought.

“Why don’t we get you up off the floor there and let me take care of you, huh? No offense, you look kind of like roadkill.”

The boy made no sound, no indication that he’d even heard except for the way his chest expanded a little faster with his quickening breath. The poor thing's heart must be pounding. John had a knack for fixing things up, be it a business his brother had fucked up or a lame horse, a broken water heater or a vehicle. He spent less time fixing things now and more time delegating what other people needed to fix, but this boy was downright hurting his innermost, rarely expressed tenderness of heart, and he wanted to fix something for him.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he said again. His knees were getting tired in this deep squat, and his boots had no give in the toes for it. “I’m gonna clean you up and look after you. You don’t have to do anything, just don’t fight me too much. Can you do that?”

He reached out and laid a hand over the boy’s. The abused pet flinched but didn’t jerk away. John encircled the boy’s wrist in his hand and pulled it slowly away from his body, towards him. “Can you stand?” he asked, pushing himself to standing and bringing the boy with him.

He made it to his feet, and was nearly as tall as John, but stumbled when he tried to take a step.

“Please,” he whispered reflexively as John moved closer, flinching to protect his battered face.

“Please what, baby?” John muttered, lifting the boy’s arm over the back of his shoulders and wrapping his arm around his slim waist to help him walk. “You’re okay, you’re right here. I’ve got you. Let’s get you in the tub.”

Slowly, they staggered to the motel bathroom a d John flicked on the staggeringly white lights that buzzed and hummed to life. He sat the boy on the lip of the low bathtub as gently as he could.

“I’m going to give you a bath,” he said matter-of-factly, turning the taps so warm water began to fill the tub. “Where did all this blood come from?”

The boy was watching him warily, dark eyes following his every move.

“You hear me? Where’s all this dried blood coming from, huh?”

“I don’t know.”

John nodded, pleased the boy had spoken. Some didn’t, or wouldn’t, he knew, not once they looked like this one did.

“Did they beat you? Is that what all this is from?”

He gave a small nod, blinking in discomfort at John’s bluntness.

“Did they hurt you in any other ways?”

He nodded again.

John felt a tug of adrenaline in the pit of his stomach. “How?”

Jack’s pet looked evasively at the rising bath water.

“If you tell me how you’re hurt, I can help you better.”

Nothing.

“What’s your name?”

“Paulo.”

He put the emphasis on the au, and there was a way he said his L that positioned the tongue differently than he did when saying other words.

“Paulo,” John said, putting the emphasis on the vowels of the first syllable too, but with no attempt at altering his very American L. I’m John. I bought you from that man, the one with the box truck. I take it Jack Kinsington sold you? Or were you stolen?”

Tears shimmered in the boy’s dark eyes, swollen and purple still like a raccoon mask. He bit the inside of his cheek to steel himself and keep from letting them fall.

John gentled his voice. “Paulo. I only ask because it’s important. If you legally belong to Jack, I gotta bring you back to him.”

Paulo’s head snapped up. He lost control of the tears, which spilled down his bruised cheeks. He grabbed hold of John’s sleeves, pulling himself closer as if his whole body was not bruised and sore. “No,” he begged urgently. “Please. I’ll do anything. Please. I-I’ll do anything you want, I can’t… please don’t….”

An idea dawned on him and he let go of his latest captor’s sleeve in order to lift his trembling fingers to his own tattered shirt. He pulled it over his head with a barely-suppressed whimper of pain. His torso was bruised like his face and arms, dark black and purple impact points on his warm toned skin like fists or boots, some that looked like electric burns left from a cattle prod and others more reminiscent of the yellow, oozing wounds cigarettes tended to leave. He was ribby, in a dehydrated, sudden sort of way that looked like he hadn’t eaten much of anything in the last few days.

He started on the button of his pants and John reached out to stop him. “Hey. No. What’s this?”

“Do- do you prefer girls? I can be just as good for you.” His glittering eyes were simultaneously like a starving animal and horribly blank. “They all say so.”

Ah. There was an answer to one of his questions. He pulled Paulo’s wrists away from the opening of his pants, held them in his own on the cool edge of the tub between them. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not interested.”

“I could take a bath,” he whispered hopefully.

“You will take a bath. But I’m still not interested. I need to know— were you given to someone by Jack Kinsington rightfully, or were you stolen?”

The fear was back. John didn’t know which was worse on this one, the dead eyes or the fear. “Don’t take me back to him.”

“He hurt you a lot, then? Jack?”

John already figured as much. Despite his admiration for the man’s business sense, he was a cruel and sadistic pet owner. Once he’d seen a boy shoved into a cage fit for a fox, he’d reconciled that much in his mind. It was like that often, when it came to human pets, and never quite who you’d expect.

The boy begged miserably. “Please, Sir. I’ll do anything.”

“You mentioned that. He didn’t sell you, did he?”

Paulo glanced down.

So he’d bought a stolen pet. That’s what he more or less suspected when he’d seen the boy at the rest stop, weeks after he’d seen him in the cage at Jack’s and much worse for wear.

Jack Kinsington would probably be even more open to buying more of John’s racehorses in the near future if he returned his favorite boy-pet to him. Don’t worry what it cost to get him back, Jack. Less than the yearling I’ve got for you to look at this spring, I can tell you that. Call it even.

John turned off the taps and tested the water with his fingers. He’d wondered if the boy would be willing to take those filthy clothes off in front of him, but seeing as he’d just offered himself, he thought it more likely now.

“Take those off,” he said of the boy’s remaining clothing. “You can borrow some of mine when you’re cleaned up.”

Despite his offer less than five minutes ago, Paulo was modest to the point of shyness once he was naked.

“It’s okay. I’m not even looking at you,” John assured him a little gruffly as he helped him into the water. “I just want to get you clean.”

Paulo flinched as he submerged, undoubtedly feeling every burn, cut, and bruise as he did. He was so dirty that tear tracks were now visible on his face from his crying. John wet a rough motel washcloth in the warm water and brought it to his face. He dabbed and nudged the dried blood from Paulo’s mouth and nose. The boy tried very hard not to flinch and shy away, and in return he tried to be very gentle. “Good,” he said quietly, wetting the cloth and returning it to the blood and swollen tissue. “Tell me if I hurt you.”

Paulo made brief eye contact with him at that, probably because it had become a foreign concept that someone would make an effort against hurting him. Just as quickly he slid his gaze away, back to an indeterminate point on the bathroom tile.

“You wanna do this next part?”

Paulo didn’t answer.

John moved as gently and quickly as was prudent over the rest of his body, knowing he was hurting him when he passed over the yellowed cigarette burns on his legs and hips.

“I know. You’re gonna be okay. Almost done. You’re doing really well.”

Paulo let John wash his hair, using some of the hotel shampoo that would likely sting some cuts but was desperately needed. He closed his eyes as John worked his fingers through the blood and dirt, the snarls coming apart slowly with gentle patience. As he rinsed the boy’s dark hair clean, John noticed he had stopped shaking.

He drained the now red-brown water and wrapped Paulo in a white hotel towel. He looked better clean, though there was nothing to do for the bruises but wait. He sat on the side of the motel bed as John went through his black duffel bag, pulling out sweatpants, a gray cotton T-shirt, and ibuprofen for him.

Paulo dressed in the bathroom and accepted two of the pills. He came out and sat on the end of the bed afterwards, staring at the pattern on the comforter.

“Does Jack know who had you?” John asked as he set up his phone charger. “The guy with the box truck out there?”

Paulo shook his head. “That man wasn’t the first.”

So he’d been bought and sold multiple times since being stolen—kidnapped— from Jack's property. It was possible Jack knew the original perpetrators, but had no idea where his pet was now. John sighed. His mind was working analytically, trying to understand every facet of the situation before he acted— trying to understand how he could manipulate it most in his favor. But that all felt shallow and cruel when he truly saw the boy in front of him, his damp hair and his bruised face, his narrow chest and the way he was nervously picking at a scab on the inside of his wrist.

“Don’t do that,” John said softly. “I don’t want you getting any infections.”

Paulo stopped immediately but looked intrigued by the care in that statement. Likely no one had said anything like it to him in a long while now.

“Are you hungry?”

Paulo shrugged. John raised his eyebrows and he went with a more committed shake of the head. “No, Sir.”

“…Are you scared?”

The boy swallowed, touched the scab on his wrist without picking it.

He’d said it before, but he knew he’d have to say it a hundred more times, and show it a thousand, before it sunk in. He likely would not end up doing that, but he’d say it as long as the pet was in his possession. “I promise I'm not gonna hurt you.”

“What, then?” Paulo asked, shrugging one shoulder to his ear in what felt like embarrassment at his own question.

“If I’m not going to hurt you? What then?”

He nodded.

“Nothing. I'm gonna take you back to Tennessee.”

“To Jack?”

“For the time being, to my place in Lewisburg. I have a farm.”

“What kind of farm?”

“Horses. You wanna come?”

He said he did. Not that he had much of a choice. John suspected they both knew that killing him on the side of a dirt road in west Texas would be better than what might happen if he took him back to Tennessee and failed to promptly return him to Jack. Jack would take it out on his lost little pet as much as he did John.

“I can’t believe you’re still even sitting up and talking. Come here.” John stood up and pulled the corner of the bedsheets down. “Lie down.”

Paulo did as he asked.

Before John would cover him up he asked, “Can you tell me if anyone kicked you in the back or abdomen, or if you feel any pain when you move or breathe?”

He thought about that. “I don’t know. I’m sore.”

“Any sharp pains, anything feel broken?”

“No?”

“Can I touch your stomach right here? It won’t be for long.”

A little apprehensive, Paulo agreed. John placed his hands on his abdomen and prodded his way along, trying to feel anything amiss or to get a sharp yell from Paulo. None came.

“Does this hurt anywhere more than soreness?”

“No,” his patient said in a small voice.

“Okay,” he said, and covered the boy to his chest with the blankets. “I’m done. Thank you. I was worried you might have internal bleeding, or broken ribs.”

“I don’t think so.”

“We’ll need to get you checked for other things too, soon. Make sure you didn’t contract anything.”

It took a moment for this to register, but when it did, Paulo blushed scarlet.

“It’s okay,” John assured him. His next gesture surprised him. Tenderly, he brushed the back of his knuckles to an unbruised spot on Paulo’s cheek. He was quickly becoming endeared to this unfortunate little pet. “You’re probably alright. And even in the event you did, it’s not your fault.”

“Is that why you didn’t want to?” Paulo asked, leaning his cheek almost imperceptibly into John’s knuckles.

John retracted his hand. “No. I didn’t want to because I am not interested in hurting you.”

“I said you could.”

“You and I both know it would still be hurting.”

Paulo laid his head back on the pillow. “I don’t understand what you want.”

“For starters, I want you to tell me what you want to eat.”

He didn’t eat much, but he did make an effort. John got the impression he was suspicious of every simple kindness, every time there were footsteps outside their door in the breezeway.

When he turned out the light and put a partition of pillows between them to sleep, he felt Paulo start awake every time a car pulled into the parking lot, or the AC beneath the window kicked on with a rattle.

“You’re okay,” he said drowsily from across the pillow divide, which made it feel more like bunking together and less like sharing a bed. “Nobody knows you’re here. Nobody knows where you are at all. That door is deadbolted. And I’m here between the rest of the world and you. You can sleep tonight. Nothing can hurt you.”

He doubted words would actually help, since the boy's nerves were probably completely shot, and who knows when was the last time he’d had a good nights sleep, and felt safe enough to do so? Still, he thought it should be nice to hear. It was the least he could do. He didn’t make any undue promises. Just tonight.

Paulo was quiet for a minute, and then John heard a wet sniff that was the unmistakable sound of crying. He didn’t think he should say ‘don’t cry’ to someone in his position, so he didn’t. He just listened from across the pillows until the little pet fell asleep.

#pet whump #hurt/comfort #nonsexual nudity #bathing whumpee #bruises (whump)#offscreen noncon #captivity (whump)#slavery (whump)#misunderstandings #whumpee thinks caretaker is new whumper #yeah it’s another dark haired pet with an O name who cares #platonic bed sharing #cigarette burns

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