#free use!ghost

[lxvvie]

Let me set the scene: Free use! Simon has been needy all day and of course you’ve noticed it but you’re not really in the mood. So, in the evening, when you’re both in bed you settle next to him leaning against the sideboard with his back. Almost lazily you rest your head on his shoulder and order him what to do with his dick, watching. He’s a soldier after all, he should be good at following orders, right?

You command him to go faster, to grip himself tighter, to rub his thumb over the tip, and worst of all, just when he’s about to come, you order him to stop.

You wait until he comes down from his high and then tell him to start again. This time you don’t tell him to stop. Once he’s calmed down you look at him with a raised brow.

“I didn’t tell you to stop, did I?”

You'll be the fuckin' death of him, sweetheart.

It's not long before he's an oversensitive mess, every nerve on end with the faintest touch sending him over.

Simon's covered in a thin sheen of sweat, his hips bucking against his ministrations, and he's lost count of the number of orgasms he's had.

And then you licked a trail up his neck for a taste, wrapped your hand around his, and started pumping his still-hard cock, and bloody fucking hell—

Simon snarls. He growls. He fuckin' whines, everything short of begging, because he wants more. Needs you to give him more.

Needs his bloody damn balls drained and his head empty.

[newbiecitrusauthor]

Imagine having a perverted ghost obsessed with exposing you. They gradually turn you into the town whore.

It starts with your clothes disappearing. You go to your closet and all you have for bottoms are skirts. Your panties and bras disappear one by one until you just stop wearing them.

Whenever you walk by a man in public, your skirt blows up whether there's wind or not. Every man in town has seen your pussy by now. Many of them see it daily.

If you're wearing white, you can guarantee you'll have water spilled on you at some point during the day. People like to joke about your free wet tshirt contests.

Your shirt unbuttons itself while you talk to people. Most people don't mention it anymore. They just stare at your bare tits until you realize.

People in town trade the best stories of seeing you naked. That time your bikini fell off at the beach and you couldn't find it and the day the wind blew your sundress fully off at the town fair are top favorites.

Eventually, people get bolder. They start taking photos of your clothing mishaps. The ghost is always sure to hold your skirt up long enough for them to get a good shot. Pictures of your ass, tits, and pussy are everywhere.

Not only do they not tell you when your shirt falls open, people start to grope you. It's not even worth fighting it. You let them feel you up until they've had their fill. Eventually, people don't even pretend they need to talk to you. They come to see you just to play with your tits.

The ghost doesn't even need to lift your skirt anymore. People in town will lift it up just to squeeze or slap your ass.

You get used to being fingered out in public. On the bus, in line at the store, even at work. Everyone has seen your pussy anyway.

People start licking your pussy every time you ride the bus. You sit with your legs open so people can taste you on their morning commute. You don't remember what it was like to ride the bus without a tongue inside you.

Every man in town as fucked you at some point. Most of the women too. Instead of paying at the store, you bend over and let anyone present abuse your pussy. You lose count of how many men shove their dick inside you daily.

Your porn becomes the town's main export. Videos of you being fucked in every possible location are all over the internet. People travel to town just to fuck you. Instead of shaking hands, you introduce yourself by spreading your legs.

[satanicbratt]

𓆩♡𓆪

[sakuravalelp]

Phantom letters - DPXDC PROMPT

The bats wake up one day to the internet going crazy; people around the world were getting letters from they're diseased loved ones. The reactions are mixed, from people being outraged for the "prank" to people crying in melancholy at getting closure.

All the letters have something in common: They're closed with a green sealing wax that had an stylize DP and the name Phantom beneath it. Posts about the cards were using the # Phantom Letters.

The bats are discussing the viral posts in the cave when Alfred comes holding a basket filled with letters, announcing they were left at the doors. The letters had the sealing wax that they recognize from the posts. Checking the cameras they can see how they glitch before the basket appears.

Alfred starts to distribute the letters that had only one destinatary. Letters from each Thomas and Martha to both Bruce and Alfred. Letters from each John and Mary to Dick. A letter from Catherine to Jason. A letter from the Drake's to Tim, and another one to Bruce.

Once they had calmed down enough from the shock, Alfred proceeded to read the shared recipients. From Thomas and Martha to "The grandchildren we never got to meet." From John and Mary to "the family that took our little Robin in." Letters from Catherine to "My little boys family." The letters were directed to people the deceased didn't get to meet.

As much as the mere existence of the letters tugged at their hearts, they decided to not read them until they verified that the handwriting actually belong to the ones it claimed. They checked each letter, and in the end confirmed the letters were in fact from they're lost love ones.

After much discussion, each person makes the decision to read they're own letters later in private, and they proceed to read the ones that shared recipients out loud. The letter mentioned specifics like names and events that the deceased shouldn't have been able to know, including they're vigilante abilities, which had them pause each time to panic a bit. But what was more interested were certain pieces of the letters that mentioned a Prince Phantom.

"Prince Phantom said to don't mention things past our death, but it wasn't a command, so we're hoping this won't be much of a problem." - John and Mary

"I still can't believe Prince Phantom is letting us do this, but I'm so glad." - Catherine

It finally paints the mystery in a more concerning light when at the end of Thomas and Martha's letter there is a call for help.

"We're sorry for ending the letter on a serious tone, but seeing the kind of job you all get involved in, we wanted to ask: Could you please help Prince Phantom? Phantom had asked us to not give information about this, but he's so young, and has already been hurt so much. Please, check on Amity Park, Illinois."

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Meanwhile, team Phantom has decided that they needed to get the news about the GIW out of Amity and ask for help. Two problems:

the GIW blocks any technological attempt made.

People might be afraid to learn that ghosts exist and side with the GIW.

As a way to deal with the public image, Phantom opens a possibility that the death have never had:

"All afterlives are open to write letters to their love ones that are still alive today. Nothing that includes threats, and don't go talking about the anti-ecto acts or Amity Park yet, we're trying to ease people into our existence first. Also, I know you all check on your love ones when the veil is thin, but please keep the things you shouldn't know out of the letters if possible. If you want your letter to be sent in the first batch, make sure to deliver your letter before the week ends."

Letters are a good way to reconnect people with the death, they aren't digital, and the GIW won't be able to intercept letters if they're send through inter-dimensional portals. Two birds in one shot.

[sturgeonposting]

Alligator gar, starry sturgeon, lyretail balloon molly, and australian ghost shark for fishuary days 1-4

[lurukifennecfox]

Paulina was walking home from her little self-care date~ when she noticed a familiar figure, she slowed, double checked to make sure it wasn't some random civilian, grinned and-

threw her knife!

Wes caught it, because of course he did cautious bastard. And yes she realises this now that fighting on the street was not the smartest move but it was a long time since she saw her friends from Amity and they got along fairly well with Weston.

So they had a good time, she managed to nip him on the cheek with her knife (after taking it back) he left her with a new bruise (it will be gone by tomorrow noon) and then they were both taken in by the police...

And now she has to explain why she did what she did to the GCPD and Ancients help probably Batman as soon as she gets back to her apartment. Who could've guessed that having a friendly brawl would be so taboo in Gotham? (who is she kidding of course it's suspicious it looked like they were trying to kill each other to any normal person!)

and she's not sure how much she should say!

[kabr0ztrousers]

What about a fem waitress/teacher/nurse/other service centered job that is being haunted by a horny exhibitionist ghost that will only touch them in public.

Bonus points if reader gets lured (either fed up with the torment or too cockdrunk to care) into releasing all of the ghost's friends for a ghost orgy

Kabr0z Writes Episode 39: Haunting

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: ghosts; public use; noncon; free use; creampie; group sex; possession; pregnancy mention

A/N: Back to requests today, and back to ghosts too, which I'm sure is welcome news to some of you

As always, if you have any requests for any situations, kinks, or revisits then please drop me a DM asking for what you want and I'll most likely write it sooner or later

###############################

The café was always a little haunted, the odd thing moving here or there, the occasional flickering of the lights, unexplained cold spots, nothing major. That was, of course, until Othello turned up.

You weren't sure what was happening at first, it was a normal shift waiting tables, taking orders, business as usual. You bent over to clean a table when a hand cupped your ass. When you turned to confront whoever touched you, nobody was there. You shrugged and carried on working, maybe you imagined it? A couple of hours later you were working the cash register and felt something squeezing your tits, pinching the nipples through your bra. That's when you realised this was probably a ghost.

You shook yourself. Whoever it is, they're probably not going to be around long, and it's hardly the first time someone's been a bit handsy with you. You do work hospitality after all.

You ran off a little of the receipt paper and jotted down your question: "Who are you?"

Setting the pen and paper aside, you got back to it. You even got a few minutes of reprieve as well before spectral hands started stroking your waist, one unclasping your bra as you walked back behind the counter. In a neat copperplate hand, the spirit had answered your question. Its name was Othello.

There wasn't time to dwell on it, the lunchtime rush was about to start.

Your first couple of tables were fine. It's amazing how quickly you adapt to the roving hands of the unqiet dead when you have to. The next one was a little trickier.

The hands started off squeezing your ass, but one slid around your front and pressed up against your pussy. You felt your skin redden as you started to trip over your words. The men on the table looked quizzically at you, but didn't say anything. The other hand started feeling your cunt too, spectral fingers parting the lips of your pussy as more lazily toyed with your clit. You dropped your pen, crouching to pick it up. Your reward was for two fingers to push inside, immediately aiming for your g-spot as the the ghost continued to abuse your clit.

You bit your tongue to stifle a yelp, only half-succeeding. The men were definitely staring at you now as you half-waddled away from their table, conscious of the arousal dripping from you, soaking your underwear and running down your leg.

You scribbled another message "knock it off, asshole" putting down the paper and walking away.

The fingers came back almost immediately. You felt a hand trace two letters on your back. "No"

The rest of the rush was a stagger, taking every measure of your composure not to give in to the insistent hands rubbing your cunt, pushing fingers into you, toying constantly with your clit. You lasted most of the way through, only one table left before you could lock the door, take a break and recover yourself. A couple of men who work in a nearby office block, one blonde, one dark haired.

You took their order, face burning up and voice quivering. You could hear a wet stirring sound coming from your cunt and smell yourself, the way they were looking at you made you think they could too. Pushing the thought to the back of your mind, you turned to ring up their order. Othello tripped you, sending you sprawling. Your concentration lapsed a moment, letting a moan escape your lips and your back arch, showing your soaked panties to the two men.

You heard them get up before you scurried away into a back room, locking the door behind you. A semi-transparent figure hung there, glowing softly in the dark room.

"What's the big idea?" You spat at the ghost "Who knows what they would've done?"

"I wanted to get you alone" His voice sounded like he was at the bottom of a deep, dry well "Look in the box"

You looked where he was pointing, the lost and found box. On the top, nested on a hoodie someone had left a month ago, was a heart-shaped silver locket. You picked it up, the smooth metal much colder on your skin than it should be

"Open it" Othello's excited voice called to you from just over your shoulder

You unfastened the clasp, the locket fell open. A faintly-glowing cloud poured from it, flowing into Othello and forming two more spectres beside him. All three of them were much more visible now: three men, each around six feet tall. One reached out and opened the door behind you as another pushed you out. The light of the café made them hard to see, but their hands were solid as they manhandled you to a table. The office workers stared at you as the ghosts bent you over the table, pulling your soaked underwear to one side and hiking up your skirt.

The first ghost lined himself up with your cunt and forced his cock inside. Their laughter filled the room as he mercilessly pounded you, each thrust forcing a yelp out of you.

You could hear the other men walking over, moving slowly as the ghost fucked you, clearly not sure what they were seeing. They stood behind you, watching as the first ghost reached his orgasm, pumping his load into you before stepping aside for the next.

The second ghost wasn't any gentler, forcing himself into you using the first one's cum as lube, pressing his fingers into your clit and rubbing you to an orgasm around him as he buried himself in you. The office workers walked around the table to where your head lay, the edge rubbing on your cheek bone.

They got their cocks out and forced your mouth open, taking turns fucking your face and groping the sides of your tits as the ghosts held you down. The second ghost finished in you and the third took his place as the two men kept your mouth busy. This ghost took his time, running his hands over your waist and your hips, feeling every inch of your skin as he rutted into you. The office workers were getting close, you could taste the precum flowing out of them as they alternated thrusting down your throat. The dark haired one held you down. You gagged as he filled your mouth with cum, thrusting down into you for good measure, despite already being balls-deep. You gasped for breath when he pulled out, only for the blonde one to do the same, roughly fucking your throat until he pulled out and painted your face with it, slathering you with a mix of spit and semen. They put themselves away and left before the ghost and finished, making sure to be gone before you could get up.

You felt the ghost start throbbing inside you, pulsing his cum into your punished womb, mingling with his friends.

They left you on the table when they'd finished. Your legs shaking, tears and cum in your eyes. Othello pulled you up from the table, holding you from behind as another placed the locket around your neck.

You felt as though you were watching a film. You could still see everything, hear, touch, taste, but your movements weren't yours any more. You watched as you removed the stained and sodden knickers from between your legs. Your body moved unbidden, leaving the café and locking the door behind you. Your lungs filled with the outside air as you watched yourself walk down the street

"Don't worry" Othello's voice sounded in your head "We'll give your body back, just maybe a little more pregnant"

#######################################

A/N: Not sure how well this one turned out, but there's certainly room to expand this if needed.

Once again, any requests will probably be written, so if you want something: drop me an ask or a DM and I'll do what I can!

[jedi-starbird]

Time Travel is my favourite trope and I think we need more fics where both Obi-Wan AND Qui-Gon time travel together because no matter when they get sent it's chaos. They're saving the galaxy and being physic flash-bangs to everyone around them.

like before Bandomeer?

The entire council is baffled to watch as Qui-Gon 'never taking a padawan again' Jinn has suddenly cut off his post-Xanatos depression tour to return to the temple and beeline to the creche with a frantic energy. His wild eyes immediately single out a fluffy, red-haired initiate.

"You." he exhales with a pointed finger, slightly ominous as he towers over the child. Said child starts vibrating with delight. "Me." he agrees, launching himself at the man. Qui-Gon drops to his knees with a thud that cannot be healthy. Obi-Wan's attempts to clamber into Qui-Gon's robes and maybe onto his shoulders is thwarted by the fact that Qui-Gon's massive hands are cupping Obi-Wan's tiny squishy cheeks. He stares at the initiate for a few minutes with an intensity that is starting to worry people.

Finally, "You're so small." Qui-Gon sounds like he might cry.

'What the fuck?' Plo Koon projects at Mace.

"I'm 9! That tends to be the case!" the child chirps back.

"You're nine." Oh. Ah. Qui-Gon's eyes are distinctively misty. He squishes the boy in a hug so hard he squeaks. Mace makes a series of gestures that imply the need for a head-scan. Depa obligingly drifts off towards the halls. Qui-Gon scoops the child up onto his hip and claims him as his padawan on the spot. The assorted council members and creche-masters burst into noise. Mace tells Depa to bring some space ibuprofen as well.

after Naboo?

Anakin is a little apprehensive of his place in both the order and Obi-Wan's life, but then one day Obi-Wan wakes up and is suddenly a lot less sad in the force?? In fact, if Anakin didn't know better he'd say he was almost giddy, but he's watched Obi-Wan try to pretend his world hasn't fallen apart for the past few months so it can't be that, right? And um, Miss Bant? He knows grief is a funny thing that affects people differently but he's pretty sure 'massive mood swing' and 'having full conversations with invisible people' is not...great? and you said to tell you if Obi-Wan got really weird in any way.

Anyway after a lot of medical exams, intense consultation with the archives, and a couple exorcisms, Anakin ends up being raised by his 'real' master and his ghost master. He is far more well adjusted emotionally and far less well adjusted for what counts as normal people behavior(not talking to thin air). When questioned on this, all he ever says is that he's talking to Qui-Gon. Isn't he...dead? Well, yes. Wait, he's a ghost? Ghosts are real? ...Well this ghost is real.

This starts a great number of existential crises among non-force sensitives and incredibly heated theological arguments amongst the Jedi. Whenever Obi-Wan is questioned on this, all he ever says is some variation of "the force got to know him for 5 seconds and kicked him back out." Mace backs him up on this even though that reasoning is technically blasphemous. Qui-Gon is having the time of his un-life. He's ascended to his final form, his sheer existence is a heresy, this is truly all he has ever aspired towards.

the Clone Wars?

The minute they get dropped back Qui-Gon immediately goes and haunts the shit out of Dooku. They have a signed terms of surrender and promise of info on the Sith Lord within the year. Only half of it is because Qui-Gon's giving Dooku complexes that are only perceptible to shrimp, the other half is because they now have a ghost spy that is not bound by the laws of physics nor spacetime.

Obi-Wan only nominally pays attention to this as he immediately goes and implements his 19 step seduction plan with Cody (he had to focus on something on Tatooine to pass the time). It fails. Spectacularly. Publicly. Ah right. Tatooine was not exactly the height of his sanity. Everyone in the GAR and temple is now riveted by High General and Councilor Obi-Wan Kenobi's attempts to go on a date with his Commander, who bats him away him like a particularly annoying stray and seems one bouquet of cactus away from committing mutiny. Anakin is worrying if it means his master knows about his secret marriage and this is some sort of really weird power play. (It is, but not in the way he thinks)

The next time Dooku goes after Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon spends a good few months appearing tear-stained at the edge of Dooku's perception and only communicating in terrible wails and discordant mutterings of 'padawan. my padawan. my little one.' 24/7.

"Wait, you're annoying Dooku into surrendering?"

"Oh no Anakin, we're crushing his psyche like a bug. :)"

[insaneclown0408]

I'm looking for someone to discreetly finger me under the table at the family reunion or party. I'd be trying to stay silent, keeping my whimpers and moans quiet, struggling not to roll my eyes back or let my tongue loll out as I come hard, my legs shaking.

I'd then would have no other option but to wear my cum soaked panties for the rest of the dinner

[lxvvie]

I adore those free use Simon asks where he thinks the reader wants to fuck him but they just cuddle him instead. Those are just amazing. Now let me turn the tables: The reader’s lying on the couch, scrolling on their phone when Simon spreads their legs apart and hooks their thighs over his shoulders. The reader thinks he’s going to pull down their joggers next but instead he puts his head on their lower stomach with a big sigh. Unexpected, but not unwelcome. Does he want them to scratch his scalp? Yeah? Cool, no problem.

Okay, let's talk about it, anon!

It's moments like these where Simon reminds you of a cat. A big, grumpy cat. You ask him if he's okay, and he grunts in Ghost which you interpret as, "Yes. And no. Love me." Sure thing, Si.

One of your hands is lazily scratching his scalp while the other is busy with your phone. You feel Simon shift slightly and a big paw of his comes up and gently takes the phone out of your hand because he wants scritches and attention. Your full attention. On him.

Love him. Please.

And so you do. One hand giving scritches. Another intertwined with his.

He's living the life.

Until you stop. At which point he grunts in Ghost again lmao.

[clarged]

[satanicbratt]

[prettystartboy]

NGL I get the hype of being fucked by a ghost, you can only feel and sit there and take it and people around you could only see your clothes getting taken away and your pussy stretching around absolutely nothing while you moan like a fucking slut.

[aydaabushanab]

Welcome I am Aida from Gaza, mother of two girls, Ghala and Hala. I gave birth to Ghala after 12 years of marriage and suffering, and Hala after 14 years of pain. Unfortunately, they say they are suffering from ITP. Their health condition is difficult because of platelet dysfunction, and you all know that platelets are an essential and important element in the human body. I am helpless in front of them, helpless to treat them. I am dying of grief while they are in pain. I wish the ground would swallow me instead of their pain. We removed her spleen and she is now in dire need of a bone marrow transplant. Please, I have complete trust in you. Please help us before we lose them. Please, please, please help me and spread our story. Don't make me feel sorry for my children.

https://gofund.me/481bf953

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #90

Jason was frustrated with life, of course he was a revenant without a way to get revenge with Bruce’s no kill rule. Doesn’t say he can’t get others to kill for him, so when he gets captured by cultists he decides to take a leap of faith and make his wish to the Ghost King before the cultists can make their stupid wish about world domination or something.

The Ghost King accepts but wants a favor from him, what Jason wasn’t expecting was a kid with black hair blue eyes about 14, showing up on his doorstep saying he needed a place to crash and this was the ghost kings favor. Jason gets a message from his family just then, the Joker is confirmed dead. He doesn’t know why the Ghost King wants him to take care of a random teen but a deal is a deal.

[lurukifennecfox]

Gotham was welcoming of Amity Parkers.

not as loving as with her own but she was way more patient with the people of her friend that any other outsiders.

so the people of Amity those Liminal and aware of her tried to pay her kindness back, to a reasonable degree of course but they could help and she let them stay so they did.

Paulina took it upon herself to make a nice place in the fashion district, she sold some charms to help with the curses as much as she could.

Sam being Sam opened a surprisingly Ivy Approved community garden and was very hard to convince not to join the Eco-terrorist but they managed to, thankfully.

the Fentons designed filters to help the 'Parkers but it was good for the city too if too little to do much.

Val hadn't moved here (yet) but she visited often enough and each visit volunteered somewhere.

Gotham grown to adore them almost as their own, she even hid them from the bats for a while to let them settle (and maybe help her more before her Knight inevitably got paranoid)

Gotham laughed when her King stumbled into her Red Knight, you could hear it in subtle ways the sounds of the night flowed just a little too much like a giggle.

Hood did deserve more good things she's proud of herself!