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romanarose · 22 hours ago

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The Ghost of You

Banner by my dear @commonmisery

Ghost!Joel Miller x fem!reader

TLOU 2 SPOILERS AHEAD! YOU"VE BEEN WARNED!

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Summary: After moving into Jackson, you're put up in a house that hasn't been lived in for years. Soon, you realize you aren't alone. Can you help Joel move on to the next life to be with his daughter? Or will you keep him here selfishly with you?

Warnings: TLOU 2 SPOILERS, ghost!sex, mentions of violence and the things Joels done and what happened to him. bittersweet ending. Body marking and blood but it v consensual. It's loving.

A/N: This is my goodbye to writing Joel. I've made a few statements on thi before and if you've followed me for a while you know why. I won't rehash it. But I wanted to write this idea I had talking to @multiversed-daydreamer as my goodbye. i won't say it my last joel forever but it is for along time. all other series are cancelled. I am also just largely essening my writing for p-boys but I'll still be around witing frankie and javi and marcus sometimes. You never know. My main focus rn is logan howlett, triple frontier, and my original content

This is my love letter to the Joel fandom that has given me so much love and friendship

Looking for something similar? Brother by @macfrog is Tommy saying goodbye, and The Devil's Wife is devil!Joel, similar theme of halloween by @noxturnalnymph

8.5 words

It was cold. That was annoying. How you’d wandered your fucking way out to Wyoming, you’ll never understand. One minute you were in Florida complaining about the heat, now you were being treated for frostbite in your toes.

You’d arrived in Jackson last afternoon, nearly frozen to death and had been crashing in the clinic bed ever since. The doctor, a nice older man, took care of you and a few nurses checked in overnight, and today you were cleared to get settled. Word of mouth had told you Jackson was the place to go, a safe haven, a community where people actually take care of each other. Maria Miller, the town founder, had just left your room saying she’d be outside doing paperwork whenever you were ready for the short tour. You’d get the full spiel eventually, but right now the frostbite made walking a little hard. She'd just show you her office, the mess hall, a few quick essentials and then take your to your new home.

That was when you heard shouting outside the door. One voice was Maria, the other you didn’t recognize. It was hard to hear, but you listened in with your ear pressed to the door.

“It’s been 3 years Tommy. I know this is difficult for you but-”

“You don’t know shit!”

“Excuse me? Who was there for you when you drowned your feelings in moonshine for years? Who took care of Walker while you went off on pointless revenge missions!”

“Don’t you bring him into this. Don’t fucking do that shit, Maria, you know I had too.”

A beat of silence. “You had to do whatever you had to do to deal with what happened. We forgive you, we took you back here and the whole town in glad for it. But Tommy… Jackson is growing. We need the space-”

“You never fucking liked him! You never wanted him around! I bet you’re glad-”

The shouting began to overlap each other, voices raising until you were uncomfortable enough with the man’s temper you grabbed your gun and opened the door, pointing it at him.

“Settle down there, cowboy. Ain’t nice to yell at a lady.”

The next few minutes were embarrassing, to say the least. Maria explained that Tommy was her ex-husband. She didn’t go into the argument, but she assured you, not without gratitude, that firstly she could handle herself, and second that Tommy wasn’t a threat.

After Tommy left with a pointed ‘fuck you’ in your direction, you turn back to find Maria rolling her eyes.

“He’s a good man. I promise. Good dad, works hard, takes care of his people. He just gets… well, there’s some sore spots. C’mon let’s get you home. I bet you’re tired.”

Settled into the house that felt way too big for just you, your thoughts drift to the man. He was older, 50’s maybe? Dark brown hair with a few streaks of gray and tired lines around his eyes, but handsome. He was so angry, and angry at you. What the hell did you do? You hadn’t even been here a day! Fucking unreal. Men were men no matter where you went, but their temper tantrums never ceased to amaze you.

The house was pretty empty. You’d been given a few furnishings, but the house was stripped of all character, certainly taking apart everything the previous owner had. Had the place been occupied since the world fell apart? Or had someone who lived here died? You wondered how. You wondered if they had family, or if the town was their family.

The kitchen had kindly been stocked up pretty well, and you’d been given some toiletries so after eating, you enjoyed your first warm bath in a long time. Running water, and it was warm? Fantestic. You boiled a pan of water and tossed it into the tub for some extra heat just how you liked it.

In bed that night, that’s when things got weird. You felt a coldness wash over your body, a shiver you didn’t expect under the warm blankets. Then the window unlatched and flew open. You gasp, fearful at first, but then justify that since it’s on springs, the latch must’ve been not done right and just sprung open. No big deal. But then you felt a hand on your cheek and you froze.

It didn’t linger more than a second. The touch was fluid, but not wind, not air. There was a roughness to it, the distinct feeling of a large hand cupping your face… but you weren’t scared. Instead, you felt calmed. Relaxed.

It became routine, after a few weeks, you refused to go to sleep until you felt it, the touch of warmth on your face, and you felt safe. It didn’t take long for you to believe you had a ghost; after the cordyceps, ghosts were never far from disbelief, something you’d always been open to, but the question was who.

That would be answered soon enough. You could just ask, yeah, but you wanted to find out, in their own words. As the days progressed, you’d been given time to recover and adjust before working, so you spent a lot of time settling into your house. This was not without its encounters with the ghost. More and more, they seemed to get stronger, able to do more, communicate more. There were items shuffled around, bigger and bigger until the couch was moved.

“I don’t like it there.” You said out loud, pushing it back a few feet.

They moved it again.

“Come on, you’re being annoying.” You move, just for it to get moved back again.

You throw your hands up in the air. “Fine! At least be useful and carry the chair upstairs.” No response, no movement. “Dick.” A gust of wind through your hair and you giggle.

You scribble together a make-shift ouija board, a circle tied from some guitar string you found in a box the ghost knocked off a shelf that must’ve not been cleaned.

Candles lit, you cross legged on the floor, you try to get information. Requests for the name came up empty, but the string moved to “yes” when asked if they were a man.

“How old are you? Or- were you?”

5. 6.

“Old man.” You chuckle when wind brushes your hair. You’d learned this was his way of teasing.

“How did you die?”

D-o-n-t-g-o-g-o-l-f-i-n-g

“Don’t go golfing? What does that mean?”

No response.

“Was that a joke?”

Yes.

“Well, I don’t get it. You know that, right?”

Yes.

“Fine, don’t wanna talk about death I see. Fair enough, never been there myself but I heard it’s not fun. Uhhhhhh got any kids?”

“Go on.”

2 g-i-r-l-s. 1 d-e-a-d.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that… where is the other?”

I-d-o-n-t-k-n-o-w

“Shit, i’m sorry about that too. Must be confusing.” Not knowing where your daughter is must be hard. “Is your other daughter with you? In the afterlife I mean?”

e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g-i-s-d-a-r-k

That broke your heart. “Must be scary.”

Yes

Then, the string moved again.

N-e-w-t-o-p-i-c

a-b-o-u-t-y-o-u

For whatever reason, this makes you blush. You spend the evening telling him about yourself, sharing details and asking him the same. He didn’t like talking about his family, refused to answer any more questions. Wouldn’t say his name.

But it was the first time you’d been called beautiful over ouija board, you knew that much.

Even after you began working, every evening you’d run home to spend time with this ghost of a man. The most people saw of you outside your day labor was a pop into the mess hall to take food home or the clinic as they checked you were recovering okay.

“Don’t see much of you.” The doctor commented. “You adjusting okay? I know it’s a lot to get used to.”

You blink in confusion. You were fine. Happy, even. Sure, you didn’t get to know anyone… but why would you? You did your part for the community, then you went home. Hell, you volunteered extra hours sometimes, picking up more than your fair share. You just didn’t want to get close, that’s all. People died, you’d learned that hard lesson early in life, and learned it over and over and over again. There was no point in making friends, falling in love. Not when it was all so fragile.

But you had your ghost man. He had already crossed that barrier, so there was nothing to fear. Nothing to lose.That night, you talked out loud to him about your day as you always did, he made little sounds knocking cabinets together or brushing a breeze on your skin to let you know he was listening. Sometimes winds rustled your hair when he thought you were funny. Then, the wind turned into a gust, and two firm hands pressed you down the hall, the message clear.

“Jesus! I’m going I’m going!” You follow the breeze bushing you. Fuck he was getting more powerful every day. Pushed to the kitchen, you’re face to face with the fridge.

“If this is a fat joke- hey!” Two distinct fingers pinched your cheek and you laughed. “Okay, tell me what you want!” A breeze, and you hear a fluttering between the fridge. When you bend down and dig around the dust bunnies, you find a piece of distinct photograph paper, and pull it out. On it was a picture of a man, 30’s, maybe 40’s if you were pushing it, his arm wrapped around a hung girl holding a trophy. They looked happy.

“Is this you?”

The picture ruffled in your hand.

“And the girl, that your daughter?”

The pictures motion was repeated. This looked like it was from before, from long ago… you assumed the girl was the daughter that died.

“It’s so cute…” You traced the picture of your ghost, having a face but no name still. Your feel warm, a blush creeping around your skin and a deep heat settling in your stomach. He was handsome. You’d never really pictured him,, besides a few wandering thoughts here and there, but nothing stuck. You put his picture on your fridge.

At night, the image of his face danced in your head, unable to sleep. It was weird, this friendship you had with the ghost in your house, but you didn’t really care. There were worse things in this world, darker ways to cope. So what if a dead man made you happy, made you blush and grin and giggle. So what if he was the reason your hand was currently being shoved into your PJ’s.

You’d be lying if you hadn’t touched yourself that first night, but this was the first night you pictured his body on your, his face, that beard…

“Are you watching me?” You asked, panting. That was a first too. You knew there was a possibility he watched, but you didn’t really care. Never had. Now, you hoped he did.

A pause.

Then, the liquid touch of a hand on your face. He was here. He was watching.

“Good.” You assure him, hoping he stays. “Want you to watch.” Your fingers begin to pump in your cunt, and you kick off the covers. So what if it was cold, you wanted him to see you. You thought about what it would be like to feel his face buried between your legs, what his voice sounds like, how he’d touch you-

“You can touch me, if you want. Not just my face.” It was a bold statement. Things with you and him had been friendly, close, a little flirty… but nothing so far had suggested more. For a moment, you thought he wouldn’t. Maybe he just watched to watch. Maybe you embarrassed him and he left.

Then his touch landed on your face, slowly trailing down, down, until you could feel hands on your breasts. The slightest brush on lips ghost the shell of your ear, your cheek, and your heart swells. He wants to kiss you.

“You can kiss me. It’s okay.” It wasn’t as strong a touch a his hands, but he ridgid texture of chapped lips touch yours, and ripples of pleasure flow throughout the erogenous zones on your body, far ore reach than two hands ever could. It tickles, and it feels fucking good.

“Wish you were here….” You mumble, still fucking yourself as hips bucked against yoru fingers, sopping wet sounds fill the quiet bedroom. “Never connected to anyone the way I have you.” A squeeze on your leg reassured you, and soon your tits were being messaged in a way clumsy human hands couldn’t do. It was like the rolling ocean crashing and waving and peaking on the tender flesh, a surreal experience to your touch-starved body.

“I’m gonna cum, I’m f-fuck, you’re gonna make me cum-”

Then you hear it, clear as day, sharp and quick against your ear.

“Joel.”

His name. You cry it out as your pussy clenches down on your fingers.

After that, ghost sex was something you and Joel regularly engaged in. He couldn’t really speak much still, usually only getting out one word. Generally it was ordering you to cum, sometimes a single word compliment slipped through with a southern accent.

“Beautiful.” He whispered as you lay in bed, satiated and panting.

He thought you were beautiful when you came.

There was never another reason to go anywhere outside of your home other than to work or get food, and more and more you just got groceries and worked with what you had. You liked cooking with him ,you didn’t want to be away.

Today, as you tried to make soup, you couldn’t help laugh as he managed to speak “More seasoning” and lift a fuck ton of herbs up and into the pot. At least he was a helpful ghost.

“You can just make it next time!”

You expect to feel your hair rustle, but instead his voice speaks.

“Tommy.”

Then a knock on the door. You were so startled (people never visited you) you almost didn’t answer. No one outside that door could be worth time away from Joel, but he pushed you to answer, a desperation in his actions that matched the tone he spoke the name.

When you answered, you would have shut the door if you weren’t curious about Joel’s reaction.

There stood the man who got in a shouting match with Maria. Oh, yeah, Tommy, that’s right. But why was he here? Tommy was tall, but his posture at the moment was sunken, sheepish. When he looked at you, pink dusted his tan skin. “Can I talk t’yuh?”

You narrow your eyes. “Sorry, but the last time we spoke you weren’t exactly polite enough for me to feel like welcoming you inside, and every time I’ve seen you, you give me dirty looks.”

He nods. “I understand, that’s why I uh… wanted t’explain myself. I shouldn’t’ve done that, but I was angry. Ain’t right, still…”

“What could I have possibly done to you?”

His eyes were large, brown, and wet. “This was uh… my brother’s house. He died 3 years ago.”

5 Minutes later, Tommy was sitting on the couch with you, cup of soup in hand. You hadn’t felt or heard Joel, but this was your chance. Some answers.

“Funny.” He pats the couch. “This was his. Was right here for years, never moved it.”

“It’s uh… a good stop. Now, I think you had some explaining to do?”

“Right…“ Tommy rubbed the back of his neck. “The house has been empty since he died. My wi- ex wife, I guess, kept it empty out of courtesy but she was right. It was time to move on.”

“Did he die in here?”

He shook his head. “No.”

Tommy explained it to you. The revenge that was enacted on his brother for saving the girl, Ellie. You wondered if that was his daughter he mentioned, but Tommy just referred to her as his kid. How the woman and their group killed him, Tommy saw his brother's head bashed in, brain matter on the walls.

The gold joke still didn’t make sense, but you’d figure it out. You learned more about Joel too, that he was from Texas, that his daughter, Tommy niece, died on outbreak day. Joel’s birthday. Joel played the guitar, he liked to swim, was an overbearing brother and loving dad. He was married once. He learned to cook to get Sarah to eat veggies so he was pretty good at it. Was a good man. The best, the way Tommy spoke.

“I know it ain’t right the way I’ve treat’n yuh. And I know it’s not your fault. I just hadn’t been handling his death well, you know? Lost my wife, almost lost my son… I ain’t been the man he raised me to be. I now you don’t… do anything. In town. That’s probably my fault and I’m so-”

“You think I stay home because I’m avoiding you?” You nearly bark out a laugh, his eyes growing in confusion. “Man, I ain’t scared of no man, if I wanted to go to the movie nights I would have!”

Tommy processes this information, sipping on the last of the soup broth. “Oh… I guess I just assumed...”

“Well, you know what they say about assuming. Make’s an ass out of you and me. Here, gimmie.” You take his mug, walking to the kitchen to rinse it and still giggling.

Tommy follows you. “Well I’m sorry! I guess I just figured, the time’n ‘n all.”

You throw a look over your shoulder. “I stay home because I like it here. Because I’ve been alone for years, so I’m fine with it.”

“But why not-” He stops in his tracks. “Where did you get that?”

You follow his line of view and realize your mistake. “Uh. I uh. I found that while cleaning the kitchen, by the fridge. I guess I thought it was nice, so I hung it up… why? Who is it?”

You knew the answer before he even spoke Joel’s name. You had to pretend to be surprised, but even worse, you knew what you needed to do.

“Keep it.” You say, pushing the picture closer to him, breaking you a bit. You had to hide ever emotion, because there was no reason for you to have any attachment to it. He didn’t know what you and Joel shared with each other. Who he was to you. It didn’t matter, because Joel was his brother. The girl was his niece. He deserved the picture.

“That’s here. That’s Sarah.” Tommy continued, confirming your suspicions as his finger trailed over the girl.

“She’s adorable.”

“Yeah… she was. Great kid too.”

Tommy helped you wash up the dishes from making soup, you and him talking more. He was nice when he wasn’t yelling. You could understand why he was so upset at the time, and you forgave it.

You told as much as he stood in your doorway. “I don’t hold it against you. I promise.”

He nods, smiling and looking more at ease. “Promise you’ll come to the next movie night, it’s tomorrow. It’ll be good for you, I promise.”

“What’s playing?‘

“Scream 2!”

You roll your eyes. “Not the first one?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Tommy says with a tease. “Is fucking scream 2 at the end of the world not enough for you?”

You shove him out of your door, laughing. “Fine! I’ll fucking come. But only to see Timothy Olyphant.”

You shut the door, and turn around still laughing. But what you see shocks you so bad, you’d have screamed if you didn’t cover your mouth.

It was Joel. Faint. Barely there. A dead eyed stare. Much older than the picture and his hair was longer. But it was him.

“Joel?” You say, tentatively walking towards him. He wasn’t looking at you, instead, he was looking at the door, unmoving, unblinking, unbreathing. Your hand passes through him and when his form dissipates, you fall to the ground and cry.

“Are you mad at me?” You ask. He was strangely quiet the rest of the day, only a few little touches here and there. No ghost sex that night. When you are getting out of work clothes and putting something warm on for the movie, you bring it up.

“No.”

“Well, you’ve hardly talked to me. Is it because I asked Tommy as those questions about you? I;m sorry, it’s just easier that way and I wanted to know what happened to you-”

“I miss him.”

Three whole words.

“You’re getting stronger. Did you mean to appear to me yesterday?”

“You saw me?”

“Yeah, and I hear you really good now.” You grin. “I can’t believe you’re talking this much. Maybe I’ll skip the movie, I don’t wanna lose-”

“No. Go.” a brief pause. “Please.”

“Joel Miller,” You tease him. “Are you having me check on your baby brother?” He rustles your hair.

So, you started hanging around Tommy more. It started as filling Joel in on his life, but really, you liked being around Tommy. He was easy to talk to.

You lay on your side in bed, trying to picture his face as you’d done every night for months as you talk to him. Joel’s voice was clear, fully communicating with you now. Every now and then you could see a glimpse of him in a mirror or the faint frozen picture of him standing somewhere, usually after Tommy was over.

“Walker is doing really well.” You tell him about his nephew you’ve met a few times. For a few years, Tommy was barely around after Joel’s death, most of the time he was drunk. There was an incident several months ago whereTommy passed out of the couch and Walker tried to start the stove, resulting in a small kitchen fire, and Tommy effectively lost custody of his son. Not that family court existed here, but Tommy knew he couldn’t be there. This was shortly after you moved in, and was the reason Tommy finally got sober. Things were going better now, and he’s repairing that relationship.

“You met him?”

“Yeah, he’s quiet. But he’s very polite.” Tommy said he takes after Joel. Walker and Joel had been very close before he died, Tommy adored the little boy. The little boy in question was now 8, growing up.

He sighs. “Yeah, he was a good kid. I never had a son, figured raise’n Tommy was close enough. But when I was with him… Sometimes I think back to when Sarah died, how hard Tommy fought to keep her alive… yuh know, after she died I was just, I was drowning in my sadness. There was no room for Tommy’s grief, I guess. He’s stronger than I gave him credit for, because he was always there for me. If I had lost Walker… I dunno if I could have been that strong.”

A few days later, you invite Tommy and his son over for dinner, and as you stare at Walker eating his food and laughing you can see Joel. He’s no longer a still picture, he’s moving, and smiling, and laughing too. No one else can see or hear him.

But he looks right at you.

You can see him now, laying on the pillow beside you as the pair of you talk. Sometimes he’s tangible, hands touching your face and you can see his tan skin through your peripheral. Sometimes it’s more faint, like he’s using all his strength to be see and he can’t materialize his touch. You don’t know how it works, but you’re happy to see his face. Joel has kind eyes, a softness in a world of blood and violence.

“You're beautiful.” And it’s your voice whispering it to him, because he is. Every line on his face, the scar on his forehead, the tired darkness under his eyes as if an eternity to sleep wasn’t enough. Every little freckle you could map on his face on days he was more clear. It was perfect. It was him.

A sadness crosses over those pools of brown. “I really don’t deserve you…” When you open your mouth to protest, he continues. “I’ve killed people.”

That wasn’t a shock. Who hasn’t? “I have too.”

But Joel shakes his head, curls staying in place as if gravity is now inconsequential, as if he’s frozen in time with a single lock on his forehead. “No, I’ve killed innocents. A lot. Me ‘n Tommy, before… and protect’n Ellie…”

You thought about this for a while, a chill of cold reminiscent of when he first came to you makes you shiver, but when you look at him, you don’t feel the repulsion you know he expects. “You kill children?”

“No.” He says firmly, a glimmer of sadness crossing his eyes. You didn’t think so, knowing he knew what that loss was. “But that don’t make it much better.”

“Did rape anyone? Kill people for fun? Get off on it?”

Disgust mares his features. “No, never.”

You nod. “You kill any innocent people since coming to Jackson? Settling here?”

Again, a shake of his head doesn’t knock loose a single hair. “No, but before-”

“I’m not worried about before.” You voice is soft, and you tentatively reach a hand out to caress his face. His skin was soft, softer than a man in his 50’s would be, but that’s what happens when you aren’t fully there. “I don’t care about that. Really, I don’t. You deserve a second chance just as much as anyone does. The world out there-” You vaguely whisk your hand around. “Does things to us. As far as I’m concerned, as long as you’re not a rapist, didn’t kill kids, not one of those really, really bad people… I think you deserve to leave that all outside the gates of Jackson.”

His eyes soften, affection pooling with something more. “Thank you, darl’n I mean it. I wasn’t always forgiven in that life. Nice to know someone does in this one,”

Your heart aches for him, so you try to ease his pain. “Tommy forgives you, I know it. You heard how he talks about you.”

But he;s still distant. “Maybe. But maybe he just misses me. That’s different. Besides, there’s someone I know hasn’t.”

“Ellie?”

He nods. “She…. well, we just started talk’n, right before I died. Didn’t have the chance to find out if she ever would, you know? Now I never will.”

“She does, Joel. It’s been years, I know she does.”

But he didn’t beleive you.

Joel’s words stuck with you, simmering in your head like the soups he helps you make. Today you were on patrol with a fairly quiet partner, so you had nothing left to do but think, thnk, think. Why did his words affect you so much? He was so stuck on forgiveness, even though hed never know-

Oh.

That’s why he was trapped here, wasn’t it? Joel’s ghost remained behind because he didn’t have the closure he needed. Tommy and him had made up, but Joel died not knowing if Ellie ever did. Years of estrangement for taking her from the hospital, for saving her, for lying, and he wasn’t sorry, he told you himself. But he needed Ellie’s forgiveness. He needed to know Tommy didn’y hold resentment. He needed to know they were safe, that they were okay.

Joel couldn’t talk to Tommy. For some reason, you could hear him speak when Tommy was around, see him, but Tommy never reacted. Joel couldn’t even move things or create a breeze when he was around…

If Joel got what he needed, the forgiveness, the resolution he longed for, he could move on. You knew it. He was getting stronger every day, his appearance crystal clear, his touch more and more solid, less fluid than before. You wanted little more than to have him like that, as close to a real person as he could get, at your home you shared with him every single day, every hour, sleeping next to him, cooking with him, fucking him… part of your mind told you that you could do it.

But that wasn’t right. He’d be little more than a housewife, a sex doll, a captive. You could keep him there, to be your only friend outside of occasionally seeing his brother, the person who knew you best, someone always there to talk because what other options did he have?

That wasn’t you. The rational part won out, and your knew what you had to do.

Tommy’s face was one of worry when you told him you’d seen the ghost of his brother. You’d spilled it all out, sparing the ghost sex details, but instead of shock, he just asked you if you ere okay.

“Yes! Tommy I’m fine-”

“I dunno, you’re kinda a weird person to begin with, see’n shit wouldn’t be that new-”

“Tommy!” You stand abruptly from his couch, pulling at your hair. “I’m not seeing- I’m not hallucinating him! You don’t understand, I see him, I see him every fucking day that’s why I don’t go anywhere!”

A sympathetic look crossed his face. “Honey, maybe you’re seeing him because you’re alone every day.”

“I’M NOT CRAZY!!” You shout at him, and he softens.

“I know, I know.” Tommy stands. “Maybe… maybe you should stay here a few days, maybe this is a yellow wallpaper situation, you gotta get fresh air, a new environment-” he reaches for your arm but you yank it away.

“Does the term ‘don’t go golf’n mean anything to you?”

Confusion crosses his face. “Not really, why?”

A deep breath. “He… I asked how he died, with a ouija board i made and he just said don’t go golfing. Never explained.”

Tommy’s skin paled, the freckles on his face a stark contrast against him. His face a deadly calm. “How did you know that.”

You can’t help but groan. “I told you, he-”

“ENOUGH GAMES!” The sudden shout shocks you, and you step back. Tommy must’ve realized he was scaring you, so he calmed down just a bit. “I’m serious. This isn’t fucking funny.”

Tears of frustration and sadness filled your heart, begging him to believe you. You didn’t think Tommy would hurt you, but the distress he was in was clear. “I wouldn’t joke about this… he- he said it was a joke I wouldn’t get, and I don’t. Tommy please, I’m being serious…”

Then, the realization dawned on him, clear as day. He believed you. “Holy shit. You’re telling the truth…”

“I am.” You sob. “Tommy I swear I’m telling the truth. He needs help, he’s trapped here… we need to help him…”

He was shaking. “C-can I see him?”

It broke your heart to say no. He can only appear to me, I think…He’s tired when you are over…“

Dizzy, Tommy sits down. “He was round… whenever I was over, wasn’t he? That’s why I always feel so calm there…”

You nod. “He calms me too. I don’t know how.” You join him on the couch again. “Tommy, what does don't go golfing mean?”

His face is buried in his hands, and you think he’s crying. It’s a lot, you know, it’ a lot to spring on someone, especially that he can’t hear or see him still, his own brother so close and yet so far. But you were doing this for him, so that he could move on, so that he could see his Sarah in the afterlife.

When Tommy finally looked up, his face and hands were soaking wet.

“He was killed with a golf club. We never told anyone about that.”

Joel stood behind you, clear and crystalline, his body practically human. He was cold, but he brought you comfort. “Something on your mind, darl’n?”

You don’t wanna lie to him, but you can’t tell him what’s happening, not yet. You want a few more days without this hanging over you both.

“Tommy left for a few weeks. Just worried.” You didn’t tell him he went to find Ellie, to go back to the farmhouse she lived in with Dina and see if she’s there, if Dina knows where she lives kows anything. To try and convince Ellie that this woman she’s never met his eeing her dad as a ghost and they need to help him move on. But hes gonna try.

A week later, the town was in a ruckus, Tommy returning to Jackson with the prodigal daughter, her girlfriend, and a little boy.

Turns out Ellie went back to Dina, begged for her back on hands and knees, and they’d been living alone out in the country for years raising JJ. They all looked good, healthy, happy… Ellie was skeptical but she agreed to come as a favor to Tommy. Everything was planned for tomorrow, but as you lay in bed with Joel for the last time, you can’t bring yourself to tell him.

You wanted one last night.

Joel kissed you, languid and soft, his hands roamed your naked and prone body and for the first time, you noticed something. A tent in his pants. A ghost had gotten an erection for you.

“Joel…” You moan, feeling him rutt against you.

“I know, I feel it too.” His voice is husky against your ear, and chills flow throughout your body as you realize what this means. Joel was firm, his body fully here and he was hard. Joel could fuck you.

He went feral after that, yanking down your PJ shorts so fast your barely had time to lift your hips, but it didn’t matter. You spread your legs to welcome to fingers the plumged into your body, absolutly dripping for the man laid beside you. Joel’s breath was hot, growling and grunting as e finger fucks you open, preparing you to take his cock for the first time.

“You’re always s’fucking wet.” He says between sucking kisses on your neck. You didn’t care if he left hickies on you, you were just beyond ecstatic that he was strong enough to leave marks. You wanted him to be with you in some way permanently. “Been wish’n I could feel you since that first day, so sweet, so beautiful, always so ready for my touch.”

You paw at him, groping his body and trying to just get his massive form on top of you. “Need you.” You beg like a needy young thing, like you’d never been fucked properly before, like you needed to be filled and taken and ravaged.

“I got yuh, darl’n…” Joel murmur, rolling over on top of you, his cock heavy- when had his clothes come off?

Knelt before your body, Joel was magnificent. His body was broad, thick, not quick as barrel chested as his brother, he held it more in the shoulders. Down his chest and stomach held scares, fat, and a trail of hair leading down, down, down to where his cock hung thick and leaking and cut. You forgot he was a ghost; he didn’t feel like one, he felt real. He felt here. Tears filled up in your eyes, and Joel leans over, his body covering yours in his cool skin.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He asks in a gentle voice, thumbing away a stray tear. “I hope yuh ain’t scared’a me? Are yuh?”

You’ve never been more sure of saying no in your life. “Ain’t scared.” You whisper. “I just… I love you so much…” It wasn’t necessarily a lie. You did love him. But that wasn’t why you were crying, not really anyway. No, you cried because this was goodbye.

Joel’s eyes, black pupils swallowing the beautiful brown with lust, grew wet themselves as he smiles down at you. “I love you too. So damn much.”

Your nails did into his back, relishing in the firm, solid feel of him. This was real. He was real. “Fuck me, please. Make love to me. I want to feel you, really feel you…”

Plush lips kissed you as he slid inside, a wave of calm relaxed your body, allowing you to take his considerable length inside you. He was big, stretching you open slowly while you accommodate him.

“Fuck, it’s like you’re made for me…” He moans in your ear, desperate like he’s falling apart at one stroke. But he doesn’t. When he fucks you, it’s with more vigor, more energy than you’ve ever felt from a living person, a slap of skin from his hips meeting your thighs, his balls heavy and slapping against your ass, his fingers digging, digging digging so deep inside as you wished he’d bruise you, wished he’d cut you open and crawl inside so he could never leave you, two souls as one. To know and to be known at the deepest level. Souls and bodies barred to each other. Nothing left to hide.

He couldn’t do that, so as Joel slammed his cock into you, you begged for something else. “Mark me.” You whimper, getting a reaction of confusion from your lover, so you take his hand and dig his nails into your tender hips. “I need to know this is real. All of it.” The tears come again when you can see him want to deny you. “This isn’t forever, you know this can’t before but I- Joel I need something to be forever! We can’t get married, you can’t leave me pictures or presents or- or kids, Joel, I need to be able to remember you.”

His movements slow. “Oh, pretty baby…” He murmurs lowly. “I’ll give anything if it means you can’t forget me.” he kisses you deeply, sucking in your tongue and before he pulls away he nips your lip. “Tell me to stop if it’s too much.”

But nothing of Joel could be too much.

A shape gasp as he dug into you, left hand bracing himself on the bed as he never stopped fucking you, rolls of pleasure coured your body like it had tha first night, swirling over your clit and dragging you screaming to the edge. And screaming you were.

“Don’t stop! Don’t stop!” You shout so loud you don’t care who hears you. Half the town thinks you’re fucking Tommy anyway. Don’t stop fucking you, don’t stop marking you, don’t, don’t, don’t go.

You could keep him to yourself. Tell Ellie and Tommy you lied, or that he went away and you can’t see him any more. Anything so that he doesn’t get what he needs, that he stays with you forever.

He’s impossibly deep inside, but in your leaking, dripping channel and into your hip. The cut of his nails goes further than they should go, but you don’t question it. Instead, you focus on the feeling of him marking your flesh, of him making your insides as his as he cums deep in your stomach. Your cunt pulses around him as your draw out whatever he’s filling you with, you don’t care. It’s him.

“More, more” You cry into his shoulder, but he’s already slowing his thrusts.

“I’m as deep as I can go, baby…” He stays bottomed out inside you, but his hands withdrawal from your side as you come down. His bloody hand cups your face, dripping with your own warmth.

You sob against his cold skin, Joel wrapping you into a hug as the overwhelming emotion of what happened floods you, and it’s too much. You need more, but it’s not him deeper, not him scaring you, and not him filling you up.

It’s more time.

You wake up with blood on your face and your wounds cleaned and bandaged, with Joel’s body gone, as it usually is in the morning. It took until the afternoon for him to appear again.

“Sorry baby.” He apoligized, hugging you. “I dunno why I can’t control coming better.” He poked your side, and you knew he meant a double entendre but you didn’t have it in you to laugh.

“It’s okay. Last night used a lot. You probably needed to rest.”

“Yeah…” He touched the bandage he’d put on your hip with soft intent. “How you feel’n bout this?”

You smile. “Great. But Joel…” You turn around to face him, his face frowning with worry. “I gotta tell you something… I told Tommy about you…” Before he has a chance to ask questions, you spill it out. “And he went and found Ellie, she’s hear. I think… I think if you reconcile with her, with Tommy, once the air is cleared… you can move on.”

For a long moment, he stares at you, unmoving, unblinking, frozen as the picture that used to hang on your door. Then he speaks. “You know… that means I can’t see you again, right.”

Damn the tears the spring forth, damn the well of emotions overflowing your body, a trickle of a leak in the damn, then it cracks, and it all breaks. You begin to sob in his arms. “I know, I know… but it’s not right for me to keep you here! You- you said it’s dark, and you’re scared.”

“I ain’t scared when I’m with you…”

“But you won’t always be with me! I need to help you move on! It’s unnatural, it’s wrong, you need to be with Sarah, you need to be at peace knowing Sarah and Tommy love you, that they forgive you!”

He lets you cry, holding you close in strong arms as he realized what was happening. He’d see Ellie again. You were willing to give him up just so he could get his happy end.

His voice in your ear.

“Ellie.”

She was skeptical, understandingly. Pretty, short, in her 20’s with brown hair cropped into a pixie and looking annoyed. She sat next to Tommy with her arms crossed and practically glaring at you.

“I’m gonna need more proof than some golf joke.”

“It was enough to get you here, wasn’t it?”

She rolled her eyes. “I owed Tommy for every fucking time he saved my damn life, that’s why I’m here.” She turned to her uncle. “We’re even, by the way.”

“Sure as shit are.” He sighs, then looks at you. “He here?”

You gesture to the couch. “Yeah he’s sitting right- hey!”

Ellie swung her hand over where you said Joel was sitting, doing nothing but annoying Joel who tried in vein to smack her away, telling her to cut the shit.

“I don’t fucking feel anything.”

“That’s not how it works Ellie!” Tommy flicked her arm. “Relax.”

With a huff, she crossed her arms again. “Fine.”

Tommy looked to you, then to Joel, then back to you. “Tell her something only Joel would know.”

When you turn to Joel, he’s looking at Ellie with sadness. She looks different, a lot older, yet she’s still Ellie to him. He doesn’t turn to you. ‘David.’ He instructs, and you turn to her.

“Do you know a David?” And suddenly her skin blanches. Ever so slightly, she’s shaking, but then she turns to Tommy. “Did Joel fucking telling you that!?”

From beyond Tommy’s protests that he doesn’t know who Daivid is, did she mean David Turner, who was a local here, or David Sanchez, who died last month in a raid? Joel insists he’d never tell that to anyone, but Ellie can’t hear him.

You try to calm them. “He says he was someone you met after leaving Jackson the first time, that you did the right thing by killing him.”

“Yeah! I fucking did!”

“He says if he goes to hell, David is the first person he’s finding.”

She stops, information processing in her head that there was no way Joel wold have told whoever David was to Tommy. “David tried to rape me when I was 14.” She grits out. “I stabbed him to death and let his body burn up.”

Tommy turns to her, horrified but doesn’t speak.

You nod. “Good.”

And then, she sinks into the couch. “Whenever I had nightmares… Joel always told me David was the first person he’d find in hell. He was convinced he was going there.”

You chuckle. Yeah that sounds like Joel. “He loves you both very, very much… and the uncertainty is what’s keeping him here. I need to help him move on.”

“So what? You’re some sort of fucking medium?”

“No, I’ve never had anything like this happen before but… He started appearing to me. Little touches, cold spots, breezes… then he started moving things, hearing his voice…. Now I can see him, he’s as clear as you are, honestly.”

Tommy speaks now. “He’s gotta know-” He tries to turn to where you said Joel was, but you can tell he’s struggling to talk to a brown cushion. “You gotta know we love you, don’t know? How can you doubt that?”

‘Tell him I do. But tell him… I don’t know if he forgives me.’

“Joel knows you both love him, but that’s not why he’s stuck. He needs to know you forgive him.”

Ellie is staring sone faced at a wall, but Tommy is looking down at his hands now, this seems easier. “Joel… those things we did… it’s been a long time. I was angry, yeah, I fucking hated you for a while but…” He shakes his head, silver streaks shimmering in the deep brown of his hair. “I got Walker now and… after he was born man, I think I got it. The things we did to survive… you were willing to do some of the worst shit out there, damning your own soul to save me. I’d do the same for my kid, if I needed to.”

‘But I shouldn’t have made you do any of it, Tommy.’

“Joel feels bad that he made you participate.”

“You didn’t make me do fuck’n shit, brother. I was a grown ass man, even if you still thought of me as a reckless teenager. I made my choices, and I understand why you made yours. You lost your baby, I know damn well you couldn’t take lose’n your brother either. I forgive you, but you also gotta forgive yourself, brother.”

Ellie pipes up. “I get it too, Joel. I told you that night, I didn’t know if I could forgive you… telling you I couldn’t… but… UUGHHHH!” She slumps down, covering her face. “Joel I was angry! I was angry and I was stupid but I was a teenager! I was just- just a kid who had these grand schemes of changing the world! But we don’t know if it could’ve worked. But I forgive you, Joel. I was always gonna forgive you, even before you went and fucking left me! I don’t know why I had to do that, why i treated you the way I did-”

‘You were a teenager, that’s normal-’

“But I think about it, every single day I think about it and what I should've said and done better but I get it now. I don’t know what you’ve been told but I got my kid now. I know you’re old man brain is probably trying to work out how two women had a baby-”

Joel laughs, and so does Ellie.

“But it’s Jesse’s. Dina got pregnant before Jesse and her broke up and he… he died. But I’ve been raising him with her the last few years… She took me back… You ask me on the porch that night if she treats me good and Joel…” Ellie sighs, smiling. “She really does.”

‘Tell ‘er I’m glad. That I always liked her, and I wanna know the kids name.’

“Joel says he doesn’t blame you for being mad at him, or how you talked to him. He says he’s glad Dina and you are happy. What’s the babies name?”

Ellie grins, pride in her eyes. “The baby is almost 4 now. His name is JJ. Jesse Joel.”

Tear fill up Joel’s eyes, fatherly love overwhelming him and for a moment, you think how sweet this is, how nice. Then you notice he’s not as clear as he was before.

“Joel!” You rush to his side and take his hand, kneeling at the couch. “Joel, I think it worked… you’re fading…” You try to grip his hand, as if holding on tighter would keep him here with you, keep him ground in this world. Without him, you weren’t sure what you’d do with your life, who you’d talk to or confide in…. But you knew, you knew above all you’d miss him. There would never be another Joel.

‘Please-’ He sounds desperate now, scared even. ‘One more time, tell them I love them, I just- I love them so much fucking much.’

Through your sobs, you relay the message. “He needs you to know how much he loves you guys. He talks about you all the time, he- you’re everything to him.” You see Ellie and Tommy holding hands, Ellie crying and Tommy looking close.

“We love you, Joel. All of us.” Ellie says, to nowhere in particular.

‘And the kids. Walker and- fuck I ain’t never met JJ but I love him too. If, if there’s a heaven I’m gonna…’ His words start to fade, but you know what he’s saying. His strength is going fast, Joel letting go and passing on, but even still his body shook. He was scared. If there was a heaven, Joel was going, but he wasn’t sure about that.

“He says he loves Walker and JJ, he’s gonna watch over them in heaven”

That breaks Tommy, who lets the tears come now as he takes your hand too, squeezing it tight.

You look up at your lover. “I love you, Joel. I’m always gonna love you, always gonna remember you. It’s gonna be okay, I promise you. We’re gonna be alright, we’re doing okay. You can let go now. It’s okay to let go. There’s no one left you need to protect.. we’re safe.”

Even though he’s fading away Joel looks into your eyes. He can’t speak, his strength fading, but it’s all communicated through those eyes that say so much. One last time, he cups your cheek, and the hand that isn’t holding Tommy’s brushes over the cold fingers, feeling liquid and unstable again. There’s fear in his eyes, mixed with that tender love, but then something changes in him.

Joel looks forward, past you, Tommy and Ellie and onto something else, something more. He smiles. ‘I see her’

All his fear his gone, and his face is peaceful.

For the final time, a breeze rustles your hair, and Tommy and Ellie see it.

Joel is gone, and all you can do is sob into his couch.

When it finally subsides you feel numb. Ellie and Tommy have joined you on the floor, the three of you talking about the experience you shared together, something no one will ever believe.

“His last words were, ‘’I see her’....”

Tommy whispers Sarah’s name, and you nod.

“He’s with her now. He’s a peace. I know a better place is a cliche, but…” Ellie wipes her tears. “We all know how much he missed her.”

Everyone nods solemnly, and for a while, you stay there, talking about Joel, memories and his jokes and his cooking. It was nice to share this secret with other, and suddenly you felt less alone in it. They believed your stories of the ghost in your walls, and they liked hearing the knew things he told you. You liked learning more of his past.

Eventually, everyone had to get back to their families. You were alone, but you didn’t feel lovely. Something had shifted, a closeness to Ellie and Tommy that didn’t scare you the way human connection used to. Maybe you would go to the mess hall, see some movies. Your patrol partner was quiet, but nice. Tommy was still around, and Ellie and Dina decided to pack up their things and return, wanting JJ to have friends. It was going to be okay, and as the sun set on the day, somehow you felt it rise on your life. A new, beautiful world of opportunities for friendship and love was out there.

You stared in the mirror, butt naked, feeling strangely open and vulnerable despite being alone for the first time in months.

It all felt surreal, something that seemed impossible, that went against every logical explanation.

But when you took off the bandage on your hip to change it, there they were, clear as day. 4 crescent fingernail cuts deep into your skin, something that would scar forever.

No matter what happened, you’d always carry these with you, proof that Joel and your love for him was real.

I cried pretty good writing tht end, knowing its my goodbye. I want yall to know I love each and every reader so so so so much. You mean the world to me. every kind word lives on in me forever. I hope you'll stay for my other writing, but if not, thats okay! I wih all of you the best.

Please be kinder to each other. the fanfic writers do this for free, they do not deserve the things they've experienced here. It is a beautiful world out there.

Trust me, it feels way better to send anon love rather than anon hate. I wont be writing tlou for a minute but ill return with a tommy series !!!!

follow @romana-after-dark for dark content and @riley-blue-byron for upcoming original works!

So long, and thanks for all the fish <3

reblogs are greatly appriciated, would make a nice send off <3

@princessanglophile @missladym1981 @goodwithcheese @dancinglotusbud @glitterymanboy @koshkaj-blog @sixhours @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @fandxmslxt69 @miraclesabound

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kaliforniahigh · 3 days ago

Note

Bestfriend!noah being like your scary dog privelage person. Anywhere you go with him your safe bc his tattoos and height intimidate people but you just think he’s the biggest teddy bear ever. The club? He’s dancing behind you or watching you dance from afar to make sure your safe (and other reasons…). Going for a walk? Just one step behind you making sure you’re safe… (and for a nice view). At the beach? Rubbing sunscreen on your back so you don’t burn as he glares down anyone looking in your direction while your oblivious while your laying on your stomach reading your book (romance novel.. smut book… whatever floats the boat)

You're stressing that man out CONSTANTLY!

You're just enjoying yourself, while he's around you like 😠

He's always lingering, always paying attention to your surroundings for you, so you don't have to worry about a thing ever!

But sometimes, he wishes you would collaborate a little! He knows you can take care of yourself, you're a big girl. It's just that he likes doing it for you.

One night though, when you invited him to go to a metal concert with him, Noah didn't expect to almost die of a heart attack.

He's holding you by the hips, arms locked in so you don't stray from him in the crowd. But in a matter of seconds, he can see the mosh pit forming in front of you, and he swears he feels you detaching his hands from you.

Next thing he knows, you get picked up in the circle, jumping and running around with the people around you.

Noah just stands there, trying to process what happened, when his protective instincts kick in. His eyes follow the crowd and he sees you, smiling and singing along to the lyrics.

Seconds later, when the mosh dissipates, he uses his height advantage to spot you. Your hand is raised, fingers making the sign you both used to identify each other in the crowd.

"Oh my God! That was so sick!!!", you're saying, as you jump into his arms.

Noah is out of breath and he looks like the one who just came out of a mosh pit instead of you.

He thinks of scolding you, telling you to never to never that again. But as soon as he sees your smile, his walls crumble and he accepts defeat.

He's doomed to worry about you for the rest of his life.

#bad omens #noah sebastian #bad omens imagine #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian imagine #bad omens smut #noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fic #bestfriend!noah

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wakeup01 · 5 hours ago

Text

From Behind

(A horror themed butt growth story.)

Why do you keep doing this to yourself? It’s like you set yourself up for disaster. You are travelling home alone from a rather productive session at the gym. That is the good news, the bad news is you have just entered what is known as a run down area of town affectionately referred to as ‘The Crack’, everyone tends to avoid it if possible. There have been recent reports of missing people in the area too, but no one is very surprised, or seems to care. But today you were in a rush and despite your reservations, this was the quickest route back. At least, in theory.

Passing down a street of derelict warehouses you notice a side passage that appeared to lead down an alleyway. That was odd. You’ve been down here before, but had never noticed this back-alley before. Paths don’t tend to spring up out of thin air. You try and calculate where it should lead and come to the conclusion that it would let you save some time, maybe? Look, it’s extremely unlikely anything bad could happen within the minute it would take to make it through to the other side. Yes, that is what everyone says before things go horribly wrong but that was absolutely, definitely not going to happen here.

You step into a puddle that splashes an unidentifiable liquid up your bare leg. Mental note: never wear shorts in ‘The Crack’ again. Trash was piled up high on either side, it was obvious these buildings didn’t get a huge amount of use anymore. You always thought horror movies had done a real disservice to alleyways, but this one certainly wouldn’t be changing anyones mind. In the distance you see the silhouette of someone standing in the middle of the alley. From their stature it seems to be man, but something about them throws you off. You feel a pang of trepidation, a chill runs down your back. It’s only just occurred to you how deafly quiet the passage is, the sounds of the street feel like miles away. You turn around and the uneven pavement seems to impossibly stretch away from your feet. You hear a dull droning, fizzling just within your hearing range. Looking back and the man appears closer than before, you swear he hasn’t moved and yet…

“Uh hello?” You call out, to no response. Strange. But then, you see it. The most beautiful sight your eyes have been graced with. His butt.

Butt.

His grey joggers are having a hard time trying to contain what he’s packing, not that you’re complaining. It’s bigger than what you thought possible, it’s captivating. And now you’re just staring. Staring at another dudes gigantic butt in the middle of an alley, try not to overthink it. You see it jiggle just slightly and your eyes follow it’s repetitive movement hypnotically. What doesn’t occur to you is how your body is starting to….adjust. There’s a barely perceptible malicious force entering your form, you welcomed it in the second you laid eyes on the perfectly sculpted ass. Not a wholly bad trade off.

It wastes no time in making itself at home. Assessing the prey that wandered into it’s lair, before going to work on you.

The energy is gathering in your nethers, passing down your head and pulling through your torso. It seems to be taking something with it as your rear begins to heat up. You feel a light throb. It starts slow but soon increases in intensity. Your modest stature is being ‘enhanced’, your average ass cheeks piling on pounds as the rest of your body flattens out. Muscle and tissue is consumed, just food to bolster your hindquarters. All your body fat melts away until you have a tight slim chest. Your arms thinning out into effeminate twigs, hands slender. And through it all you continue to watch the rotund cheeks in front of you, not daring to take your eyes off them. Wouldn’t it be nice to have that too? Any sacrifice would be worth it, no? You want that, that -

Butt.

The thin polyester fabric of your shorts is pulled taut across your enlarging rear. Straining as it struggles to cage the hungry beast within it’s confines. Today was perhaps not the best day to decide on going without underwear. But lets be honest, underwear isn’t going to have much prominence in your future.

With your body adequately slimmed down, the insatiable parasitic-like force begins to target any identifying features you have left. It focuses on your head, a couple of twitches and it’s done. Nose itches, eyes water. It leaves your face with an uncanny quality, like it was unsettlingly sent though a algorithmic generator. It’s you, but an eerie idealised version of you. Plasticised perfection. Your skin is now unnaturally even, without a single speck or blemish. Anything that could distract from your main asset is smoothed clean. Absorbed by the mound of flesh expanding in your pants. There’s only one thing people should be paying attention to. That’s quickly becoming less of an issue. The inevitable missing poster they put up will only vaguely resemble you.

“Guh.” You hear yourself pant.

The low droning of the alleyway grows more prominent, pulsing rhythmically, akin to the low bass of a dance track. Your buttocks instinctually vibrate to the beat.

It’s increasingly hard to ignore the obvious changes happening to you. Your rotund behind is becoming so heavy. And while, yes, it is slightly concerning - can the issue wait just a little bit longer? You’ll deal with it later, after fully grasping the scope of this dude’s bountiful booty. For a second you wonder what the mans face looks like but then you think better of it. His face isn’t important, in the same way that yours isn’t.

You shift your feet apart, trying to balance out your rear heavy centre of gravity. The slight movement sends your round cheeks wobbling comically like a bowl of jelly. They bounce together, creating a wet slapping sound in your tight shorts. Your lower half is at risk of putting fuck toys out of business.

You’ve never had the word ‘butt’ enter your mind with such frequency in your entire life, it begins to loose all meaning. A collection of random letters.

Butt.

Are you perhaps forgetting something? That 4 letter word isn’t about to share a space with that bump between your legs. At some point you may have believed your cock was of some importance. All those times it had made you feel good, where for a second your concerns would fade from view. But things change. You are changing. Sometimes you have no choice but to embrace it. You start to feel a light tugging at your crotch. It’s slightly uncomfortable but there’s a pleasant tingle too. You reach down and feel it’s length diminish within your hand, sucked up like a vacuum by your ever thickening arse. It doesn’t stop until a mere nub protrudes from your groin. It dribbles the smallest amount of pre down your leg and spreads across the cracked concrete of the alley. No amount of stimulation is going to produce much down there. Your pleasure centre realigns a little further back. A deep itch that requires constant attention. A cock is something that other people have, you instead have an open socket for them to plug into.

Your shapely bum must almost rival that of the one your eyes are glued to. Not much further to go. Other people will stare at yours in the same way. You didn’t know you were so jealous of it but who wouldn’t want THAT?

You’re not sure how long you’ve been watching his rear end, or how long you plan to continue doing so. No better ideas come to mind right now. That might be because with your body and cock sucked dry, your brain is the next best source of fuel. So much useless power being used up there, where it can serve a much better purpose. It’s like a battery being drained, squeezed right into your juicy fat ass. Churned away just to add another inch of thickness.

You don’t think you really want this to happen, maybe you’re big enough back there? But what you want and what it wants are two very different things. Unfortunately for you, it doesn’t appear to be up for debate.

If you round up all those little idiosyncrasies of your personality, you might even squeeze another few millimetres into your hips. There’s only one thing around here with much substance anymore, and it certainly isn’t your brain. You can admit it, not much of value has been lost. It’s not like you were getting around to solving world hunger. At least now you have the opportunity to solve a different kind of hunger.

Your thoughts provided a decent amount of sustenance as they were sucked out of your brain through a figurative straw. You feel the benefit push out. Your hips flaring out instantaneously while your globes inflate to the size of footballs. With your brain emptied out of anything complex, thoughts and instructions to your body start to arrive from the new master of the domain. Neurones rewired, your butt was now command central, your head was just the go between, mostly irrelevant. Simple instructions and desires like ‘bend’, ‘twerk’ and ‘facesit’ overwhelm you. But -butt- right now the main one was ‘stare’; you weren’t done yet after all.

Your cheeks moisten as they rub together, their new sensitivity firing bolts up your spine. Your shorts grow damp as the leaking fluid soaks into the polyester and clings tightly to your skin. It only helps to make your arse seem bigger, the fabric bunching up between your crack, creating a noticeable crease down the centre that leaves nothing to the imagination.

Once again you feel your ass throb and shudder, each jiggle pushing it just a little bit further from your body. Just when you think you couldn’t get any bigger back there, it keeps going, inflating to cartoonish proportions. Sticking out like a depraved shelf. Your waist thins out and your hips expand to accommodate your new form. Women would be jealous of what you’re packing, and men will be queuing up to test it’s suspension.

It’s okay to smile. Happy people smile. Aren’t you happy? You must be, everything else in your head was consumed. The entity did you a favour in that regard. Think of the words ‘bouncing booty’. Go on, give it a try.

Your lip quivers in a last ditch effort of restraint. Don’t let ‘it’ win. The defiance is vaguely amusing in a pitiful way but your face muscles start to give way. Your mouth stretches wide into a broad, earnest grin. The most sincere display of joy you’ve ever shown, who cares if it makes you look ‘dumb’? It doesn’t bother you at all that people can take one look at you and accurately guess, that not a single word of value will exit your mouth. Dumb people are happy. Why worry? You had different priorities now. You can feel safe knowing that your most prominent feature is taking the lead, that it knows what’s best for you. Give it the keys and good things are bound to happen.

See, and doesn’t smiling feel good? Doesn’t it feel right to smile as your hole is used like a cum receptacle? Or when your cheeks are surrounding a mans face? People don’t want to see their toy sad.

A lone giggle falls out between your pursed lips.

You reach back around and place your hands on your two buttocks, your palm is dwarfed in size. It no longer stretches across its surface. Like palming a basketball. You can feel it push against your fingers with immense pressure as it expands within your grasp. Just another centimetre, and another. It’s curvature widens, expanding out from your hips. You press your finger into the skin and rub. The surface is completely smooth and the texture has a slight friction to it, creating a light satisfying sqk. No one for a second will believe that it’s real, it’s obvious fake-ness is by design. Authenticity is so overrated, nothing real would bounce so tightly back to position, would shine so brightly in the light. Would be able to withstand so much pounding… People don’t actually want real, they want a fetish image come to life, they want no maintenance, no downsides. They want someone to just nod and agree while they fuck them without concern; they want a rubber butt like yours. You’re not about to question it, and neither will anyone else.

They won’t question it while they undress you, or while they find relief inside of you, or even when their own butt begins to expand. And still, when they are reduced to just another butt boy, they won’t question it.

Butt.

That’s right, you’re a carrier. You have been entrusted with a important task, to leave a string of giant asses in your wake. You need to spread it, like a computer virus. Once they ‘plug in’ there’s no going back. Whoever they were, they’ll all end up the same.

You are finished. Your glutes tighten into place. And your hole opens for frequent visitors. Stretching wide as if it had just been treated to a rigorous fuck machine session. You’re just a butt with a body attached. It’s how you view yourself, above all is tending to the needs of your ever hungry rear. The rest of your body is just a mode of transport, a means to an end. A rear end.

It feels like you’ve stood here for hours, but in reality it’s been no more than a minute. A minute was all it took for you to be repurposed as a literal butt boy. A mere sixty seconds for all your thoughts to be hollowed out; maybe you weren’t as smart as you thought, or maybe you secretly wanted this all along. Either way your head is now just a pretty picture to smile at before spinning you around.

The space in your head is about as empty as the hole between your pillowy cheeks, although only one has any hope of being filled up.

“Butt!” You hear yourself blurt out, like a child saying a naughty word. The sound echos down the dank alley.

Suddenly the butt opposite you turns away, his legs moving him towards you. A wordless instruction reaches your body to kneel and so you do, obediently. He turns back away, his beautiful ass only a few inches apart from your face. His joggers lower and his prize springs forth from it’s prison. He slowly backs his cheeks into your face until they eclipse your entire view. He continues until your head is pushed between his round globes with a blomf, encasing you, muffling the sound in your ears. There’s a mild tingle across your forehead/face.

You feel the pressure push against your sides. It makes sure your head is an appropriately vacuous vessel, squeezing out anything left. That little remnant that didn’t want to be butt brained drips away in no time, turned to drool and absorbed into the guys ass crack. This would be good for you; You needed to be made perfect, so you let the butt finish it’s work. A new set of instructions flow into you, into your ass. You feel your consciousness connect to the butt burying your face, assimilating and adding you as one of it’s own, making you part of something bigger. One of many.

The pressure on your head leaves your emptied mind subservient to the mass of tissue straining under you. It gives you a new identity.

I gave you a new identity.

BUTT BOY.

And you’re now ready for service. Butt. Boy. Ready to spread joy. To put it in the nicest way possible, you have a butt for a brain. It has been given full control, and it has one singular goal. You need to make more Butt Boys. It is that simple. It’s not a desire, it’s just something you have to do.

The cheeks spread open again and are unseated from your encased head, your broad smile still unflinching.

Something else is different though. A cold breeze brushes over your forehead. The hair on your head is nothing but a light dusting of what was there before, at most 1mm in length. It was one less thing to worry about, and one less thing to identify you with. It’s unsettling how much of your personality seemed to be stripped with it gone. The buzzed look certainly makes you appear more anonymous. Like a default custom character in a video game. Nothing made you stand out… well, aside from the obvious.

The ass in front of you is satisfied with your ‘adjustment’ and leads it’s body from the spot it once stood so patiently in. You continue to stare as the buttocks juggle erratically in the grey joggers as they leave the alleyway.

Your feet begin to move of their own volition. Movement is awkward, each step your balance is pulling you backward. You’re like a dumptruck trying to make a tight turn.

You are left in silence, aside from the clapping of your bouncy cheeks as you stumble forward to replace the previous occupant. You stand in the exact same spot, thighs pushed together, back straight. Now it is your turn to wait - like an animal for it’s prey, knowing that you cannot leave until you have passed on the gift to another man; ensuring that the cycle continues. The idea of causing someone else to go through the same process fills you with such pride.

It’s unclear how long you stand there, time in the alley doesn’t appear to operate within normal parameters. Like a crack in the world. You see your shadow projected onto a nearby wall, a straight line interrupted by an obscene vibrating speed bump. Doorframes could be your new biggest enemy.

You were desperate to see your reflection, from behind obviously. Most people take selfies of their face, the subject of your attention would be much further down.

You hear a voice echo from behind.

“Excuse me sir.”

One week later:

“Man, how much work did you have done on this, femboy? Unff. You make even my girlfriend look flat.” A towering voice booms down at you.

You’d picked up the jock in a club. He was relatively easy, it didn’t take much to end up back at his place. You stared at him with that horny, open mouthed duck face. But he wasn’t interested in what you had going on up there. It was remarkable how little men cared about how flagrantly airheaded you were once you flash your rear at them. It didn’t matter how ‘plastic’ or fake you so obviously were. The eye see’s what it wants.

He was clearly in the mood to let off steam, and one look of what you had on offer was all it took. You didn’t even need to say anything, which was good, as words were so hard to get right. For tonight, you were his; a light tap of your butt and he owned your body. A breathy ‘mhm’ confirming your obedience to him and his sizeable bulge. Your ass begins to moisten in preparation - it wanted him, in more ways than one.

He had told you his name, but you already forgot it; he soon would too. ‘Jocky’ was good enough for now.

Jocky was obnoxious in all the right ways, wearing his masculinity on his sleeve. That type made for the best, most severe adjustment.

“Love the buzzcut by the way femmy. Yeah…mhm. Very basic, it suits you.” He rubs a hand over the top of your head before running his fingers through his curly hair. It was a good thing he already liked the look.

*plap plap*

The strong man’s 7 inch cock thrusts in and out of your well used hole, pulling between your lubricated cheeks. Your buttocks squished against his member tightly, every bump rubbing across your hypersensitive skin. You were so hungry. He wasn’t the longest but he definitely had thickness on his side. You pant heavily as he has his way with you. Bent over his bed, facing away from him at a wall. He wasn’t as good at this as he thought, you would know, but it wouldn’t matter for long.

“Mmf. You’re a quiet one. Ah… I- I like that in a bottom. Makes a nice change from…hff. Always whining. Know your place. Fuck.” He continues to drunkenly rant into your ear. His deep, self-aggrandising voice quickly grating on you.

“Uuh. Take it all dumb slut.” You let him have his petty insults, it seemed to make him feel bigger, more in control. Evidently, he was obviously very self obsessed, dumb as you may be, even you could tell that much. The constant glances at his own muscles were enough of a giveaway. Eh. You’d seen better; the change will be a improvement.

He speeds up, sending shockwaves up your body and making your butt bounce enthusiastically.

“H…hey it’s real hot in here.” His voice shakes. “Umf. Maybe we should stop?” He puts his hand on your hip in an attempt to steady himself as he continues pumping you. You begin to push back into him, his dick pushing all the way in.

“Wh… what the fuck. My ass feels…mmm.” He groans loudly. You know how it feels. You can hear them rubbing together already.

His grip on your back weakens, the weight crashing into you softens. His body is like a deflating balloon, his diminishing height bringing him closer to the floor. The girth inside of you shrinks.

“Ahh. So heavy…damn. My-“

“Butt.” You tell him. A slight hint of boredom in your tone.

“Oh god, why does my head… so hard to think.” Right on cue, his smarts were being cleared out, in preparation for his ass to take over thinking duties. This part was your favourite; it wasn’t fair he had all that stuff while you felt so…blank. “Feels so good. Unnf.” It was too late for him to stop it, he’d soon be very happy. Happy, eager and ready to comply. “Shouldn’t though…” You take the lead, rocking back and forth along what’s left of his dwindling shaft. Your buttocks slap against his tightened chest.

*plap plap*

“Bouncy…hehe.” He laughs dimly. You can’t help but echo his giggle, it WAS a funny word. One of your favourites - top 5 at least, right after ‘jiggle’.

“Don’t wanna…fuck…b…but I can’t…but…but.” He stutters, like a scratched record.

“B…bu…Butt. Buuuutt.” His voice moans in realisation, mumbling the word over and over to himself. He shudders, squirting inside of you. It’s okay. It’s never enough to satisfy you.

His tiny cock slips out of your hole, dragging a small string of cum across your sensitive rear. That familiar feeling of emptiness sets back in. You get out from under him and assess your work. Turning to face him, you’re greeted by his broad smile and blank, lust-filled stare. His jockish face and body now heavily twinkified; those boorish muscles, gone. His cocky attitude, subdued. The bed creaks. You check on his oversized ass splayed beneath him, a rather drastic change from his previously flat posterior. Looking even more ridiculous with his shortened stature. The slight rubbery sheen was the cherry on top. Those plastic beach balls were made to twerk and put on a show. A vast improvement, he seems pleased by it too. His left hand is loosely fondling his new selling point.

“O…ohh.” A surprised squeak slips out from his mouth. It’s always a shock when they see where everything has gone.

You’re pretty sure he didn’t have much experience back there, if any at all. He’ll soon get the hang of it.

You know what comes next, what’s required of you - it’s instinctual at this point. You push him onto the bed and position yourself on top of him. You gradually begin to lower your huge rear over his head. You sit snugly down on his blushing face, shifting your weight a bit to get into a comfortable position. His gelled hair tickles against your skin, until it doesn’t…

He’ll make a cute Butt Boy.

#transformation #dumbing down #butt growth #gay #brainwashing #twink tf

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cornerdreams-txt · 3 days ago

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quick headcanons about the new characters in the bo6 crew :)

black ops 6 was phenomenal, btw. i loved it. please come talk to me about it. please. please. please. please. please. pl

★ william "case" calderon

— known to dissociate or space out frequently, but is easily pulled out of it. it's on his record, but it's never caused enough problems for command to really get concerned about it.

— fidgets with his holsters when he's on edge. it's too quiet, or he's waiting for something to happen, he'll rub his fingers against the leather of the straps, or catch his nail on the metal of the buckles, over and over again. even if the weapon inside, blade or gun, is already drawn.

— seems uneasy around smoke or fog, shifty eyes and a pinched brow, but whenever its brought up, he's confused. seems like he has no idea that air that's... thicker, maybe, is a good descriptor, seems to put him on edge.

— unbothered by bugs, snakes, and any kind of creepy-crawly. seems to enjoy them, if anything - helped handle spiders and other insects or pests that found their way into the safehouse. biting insects seem to love him, though - mosquitoes especially. probably a blood type thing, right?

— avid horror enjoyer. seems uneasy about human experimentation, though. him and woods both seem to dislike that kind of trope.

★ troy marshall

— art is a coping skill, and hobby, of sorts. he keeps a pocket sketchbook and a handful of pens in his pockets whenever he can so he can pull it out when the inspiration arises.

— the longer the group stayed in the safehouse, the more that sketchbook filled up with portraits and still life sketches. people, interactions, architecture, sunrises, scenery. memories, ones troy couldn't help but want to capture.

— definitely a motorcyclist. did you see how he handled that bike with case on the back of it? that was NOT this man's first rodeo. 110% has a motorbike of his own. his biker jackets cycle in and out of his daily wardrobe at seemingly random.

— terrible cook. cannot make complex dishes to save his life. can follow instructions, sure, and makes a damn good sandwhich, but do not trust him to make soup or anything of the sort from scratch.

— ...isn't terrible at cooking meat, though. says he learned how to grill from his parents, but didn't really give the team many chances to see for themselves.

— seems to almost act as an older brother figure to the team instinctively. based on how he responds to jokes about him being a mother hen, it doesn't seem like he realizes he does it. (it is welcome, though. the compassion is nice, in such a harsh field)

★ sevati dumas

— very task oriented. you give her a goal and the right motivation, and she'll do it. very very headstrong, though. doesn't like taking orders unless compensated properly.

— food motivated. loves a good savory dish. enjoys exploring other cultures through that. but, no, she will not accept food as payment. nice try.

— good at acting lax and unbothered, but does, in fact, care very deeply. she's empathetic, but forces herself not to show it. she's had that be taken advantage of once, and she refuses to let that happen again.

— very reluctant to get attached or form connections to others, see her admitting she's only with the team until she gets paid. but she still hangs around felix, and she still tries to talk to troy when harrow's fellowship with the pantheon was unveiled. seems like she's not perfect when it comes to avoiding getting attached, is she?

— vibes only but like. i feel like she wants a little sibling. she wants someone she can take care of. she wants to be a good family member to someone, but having a child... no. she refuses to be a mother. she doesn't want to be a wife. she wants to be her own person. (she'd make a great godmother. or aunt. if she had the chance, and if she tried)

★ felix neumann

— if this man isn't autistic i am going to swallow a leather jacket whole like a snake. by the way. just sayin.

— the gloves were a paranoia result. they're metaphorical, sure, a reminder to himself not to harm anyone else, no taking another human life, but also a horrible, creeping paranoia eased in, of "what if they find your fingerprints," "what if you get blood on your hands again," "what if what if what if" until he could only ease it by wearing gloves. worked nicely, in the end. taking them off was... cathartic. to say the least.

— probably an anarchist? the vibes are there. hates society. hates government. wants to dismantle it all and start from scratch. that's the vibe.

— you... my special little man, get the nature autism. this guy can go on for hours and hours about the critters case finds around the safehouse, and case listens attentively and happily. also fantastic at foraging, has dozens of safe-to-eat and unsafe-to-eat plants stored away in his brain, and can rattle off the facts at a moment's notice.

— not the best hunter, but is, amusingly, better with a bow when it comes to hunting than he is with a gun.

— would code simple video games (think similar vibes to the chrome dinosaur game) to play for fun if he got bored enough. good thing he's excellent at finding things to distract himself with, no?

★ jane harrow

— photography lover. not fantastic about herself, but she'll sit and analyze photos taken by others for minutes on end, noting all the little details captured by a camera lense freezing the moment in time.

— does the same with drawn art. paint, sketch, whatever, she'll sit and analyze every little detail she can and point it all out. she loves noticing the details. calling attention to them. letting the artist know, if she can, that she sees all the effort they put into their work.

— her guilty pleasure? window shopping for stuffed animals. always writes it off as being for her niece, or a friend's child, but she wants to collect them. there's something soft, precious, genuine and uncomplicated about plush toys. but she's an adult. she can't afford to be so childish.

— ...alongside the drawing troy made of her, she still also keeps the little teddy bear he insisted on buying for her as a thank you gift, once. but that one isn't in her office. she hides it, away from prying eyes.

— mildly claustrophobic. she can push through it, and she will, when it comes to what her job demands of her, but she likes to avoid enclosed spaces when she can get away with it. it's... easier. feels less like being cornered. (she dances around the real reason she hates it. she never wants to be stuck hiding in a closet, or tucked under a little girl's bed ever, ever again.)

#sources:#call of duty #black ops 6 #cod bo6 #characters:#william case calderon #troy marshall #sevati dumas #felix neumann #jane harrow #post type:#headcanons ☁️#posted by:#znmjr 🦈

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darlingsfandom · 2 days ago

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“Baby, there’s no other superstar!”

kinktober day nine.

pairing: AU Cillian Murphy x Stalker Fem Reader!

TW: stalking, illusion to drugging, virginity loss, p in v!

Authors note: I do not condone any sort of stalking! This is pure fiction!! Please don’t stalk celebrities !!

It was what you called a healthy obsession but that was a lie. He consumed your every thought, everything was about him and only him. You watched him from afar since he never noticed that you existed to him you were just another person that walked on this earth. You were nothing!

The obsession started when you were younger and grew each year since he was in the public eye. One of the hottest movie stars to exist for many reasons and you found yourself falling head over heels for him. Cillian was in the middle of a press tour that allowed him to be away and in your mind that meant he was yours. You had been following him from city to city making sure to blend in the best you could with the crowds because as much as you wanted him, it was not the time.

Cillian had heard rumors about some famous people get stalkers but he never thought he’d meet the day he’d actually have one of his own. He thought he might be going crazy at first because of course he’d be getting gifts right now since his new movie was out , but who sends flowers at one in the morning to someone’s hotel room? Who sends a blank note smelling of perfume under the door three nights later at midnight ? He let it slide at first until it kept happening at every hotel he was staying at.

He was now a month and a half into the tour and tonight was his night to rest. He had found himself down at the hotel bar sitting on the stool drinking his whiskey alone until you appeared.

“Is that seat taken?” Your voice was soft. Cillian looked up from his drink with an arched eyebrow before setting the glass down on his napkin. Your eyes were soft but something lurked behind them.

“No.” He was blunt. He watched how you carefully sat down next to him setting your purse on your lap with caution. His hands ran over his thighs, he had thought he was going crazy because he knew that smell filling his nostrils … it was the perfume from the notes he’d get in the middle of the night.

You turned to look at him but he was already looking at you, more like studying you to be fair but you shrugged it off. You had never actually been this close to him and your heart beat was in your ears as he ran his hand over his mouth. There was something he couldn’t place and maybe it was from the alcohol that he put his hand on your shoulder but he had.

“Are you okay?” You asked voice full of fake concern.

“Yeah yeah, probably drank me whiskey too fast.” He squeezed your shoulder making you smirk as you faced forward so he couldn’t see you.

Hours had passed when Cillian found himself waking up in his hotel room. He groaned loudly as he sat up to look around the dark room. His head was pounding and once again that perfume filled his nose and now he knew.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” You spoke out from the chair in the corner. “I must say you’re a heavy sleeper.” You flipped through some magazine that the hotel had provided.

“What the fuck?” He was awake now. Cillian went to stand up but realized you had tied his legs to the bed. “What the actual fuck?” His eyes went dark. You stood up and walked to him , the clicking of your heels alerted him in a way he couldn’t figure out.

“You seem upset, you should be thankful.”

“Thankful?? You crazy bitch! You clearly drugged me and brought me here.” He spat out making you furrow your eyebrows.

“Now that’s not very nice Cillian. I did not drug you nor have I harmed you in anyway.” Your fingers traced along his jawline that made you shiver. “You just don’t get it, I’m meant to be yours!” Cillians jaw tightened as he listened to you. “I’ve been following you for ages… I’ve been there for you all this time.” Your eyes dampened as you spoke.

He actually felt sorry for you. It was more pity than anything else.

“What exactly do you want from me?” He asked as you sat on the bed next to him.

“Love me.” You brushed your lips against his and at first he wanted to push you away and he could’ve since you never tied up his arms, but something about your pathetic kiss made him curious, it excited him and all the blood had rushed to his dick. It could’ve been the fact he hadn’t fucked anyone in a while and his hand could only do so much.

“How long? How long have you been following me like this?” He asked against your lips.

“Years my love , for five years I’ve always been there! Every red carpet event you went to, every photo shoot I’ve been there. Don’t you see how much I love you.” You pleaded while running your hand across his chest.

“You’ve been stalking me for five years?” His eyes went wide.

“Not stalking, that makes it sound so bad… admiring you baby, I’ve been admiring you.” Your lips pushed into his again making his head spin because this was wrong! He shouldn’t enjoy kissing his stalker but you were so young, so pretty and something about how pathetic you were well it was just as sick but he didn’t care in the moment.

His hands cupped your cheeks making you blush as his lips moved heavily against yours. Your lips parted slightly allowing his tongue access inside of your mouth. You whined which turned him on even more. All of this was wrong both of you knew it but this was what you’ve wanted all along. Cillian bit down on your bottom lip making you whimper while you put yourself on his lap. You could feel his hard on through his pants and you took your chance to grind against him making him groan.

Your hands ran down his chest to grab his shirt and pull it off before you ran your tongue over the exposed skin. That was a first for him. This was all a first for him. His hands rested on your hips helping guide you against his cock. His precum was leaking through his pants and you could feel it against your clothed core but your own wetness was pooling into the fabric. You lifted your lips enough to help pull down your panties, once the fabric was off you raised an eyebrow before shoving the wet part of the fabric in his mouth.

“Now you’re going to be a good boy for me.” Your words made him whine! He even surprised himself with that but the way you took back control so easily was a turn on. To be fair he liked when women had power and maybe that’s why he was giving into you so easily because yes you followed him, gave him gifts but you never harmed him or threatened anyone he cared about. He actually rationalized it while you rubbed your wet cunt against his clothed cock. He felt the sickness drip and it shouldn’t be so hot.

The way you used him for your own pleasure as he laid below you with your wet panties in his mouth it was pornographic. Your mouth hung open as small moans and whimpers escaped you, your hands reached down and ripped his underwear enough to pull out his hard cock. He sighed at the relief. When you slid the head of his cock into your pussy he whined at how tight you were.

“I’ve waited so long for this.” You sighed in pleasure as you sank all the way down onto his cock.

“Yer ungodly tight!” He hissed.

A small smirk appeared on your face as you sat on his cock. He laid below you watching how you slowly bounced on his cock and the dots connected in his head.

“Are ya virgin ?”

“Not anymore!” You ran your hands up his chest and played with his graying chest hair. “I knew I just couldn’t have any man take it, it had to be you. I just wanted you to love me.” Cillian couldn’t believe it , his cock was buried in his young stalkers virgin pussy! But it felt so good! You were that dedicated to him and that fucked up.

You ignored the pain from the stretching as you rode his cock. He held you for support and as long as he held you, you got what you wanted.

“Fuck I don’t think I’m going to last.” He moaned into your ear. To be fair you were close to your own orgasm.

“Cum in me! Please!” And that did it! The way you whined so softly, it was almost a begging sound and he squeezed your hips as his cum spilled inside of you.

“Fuck fuck fuck! It’s so warm!” You sighed in pleasure until your orgasm hit you hard in a way you never felt. Your hand gripped his arms as you looked down at him with pleading eyes. “Fuck!”

“Shh it’s okay!” He pulled you against his sweaty chest and ran his hand through your hair to calm you down. Here he was meeting his stalker, took your virginity at twenty seven years old and now is comforting you after you had admitted that you have been at it for five years. Cillian never once thought about you and now all he can do is think about you and what is going to happen from now on because now he’s fucked in more ways than one.

#cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy #emsblurbs #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy drabble #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy fanfiction #kinktober ‘24!#kinktober 24!#kinktober #au cillian murphy #cillian murphy au #Spotify

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imjustdelusionalok · 14 hours ago

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yandere dc: meeting camgirl! darling <3 pt. 1

have you ever wondered if...

the batboys and conner k. have met cam girl! reader?

The answer is..... yes! She has met most of them, but the same cannot be said to the other poor precious viewers of hers ;( feel very bad to the other members of the young justice and teen titans for that.

Warning for everyone: darling and my headcanons is sooooo unserious, and darling is probably a gen z-er whose referencing too much tiktok trends 😭 be warned

and anywho, these are my headcanons for their meetings <33

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

ᵈⁱᶜᵏ ᵍʳᵃʸˢᵒⁿ ᵃᵏᵃ, 'ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗʷⁱⁿᵍ':

one of our witty girl's most biggest and annoying dedicated fans in her stream! (He ranks 3rd in donating, and 1st in annoyance)

this man is LOADED with money, and knowing how darling can get greedy sometimes... yk what happens.

(not like he has any complain tho, as long as her attentions on him, shes allowed to take, take, take, take, and take from him <3)

How he met her fr is during on one of his late night patrols in bludhaven, he finds her on one of the empty streets in the city.

He gasps, very worried but so so excited.

'Bunny! :0' is what this man immediately thinks. Its his term of endearment for you, for looking so innocent and soft... yet so fierce and mischievious once known. (Live you is CRAZY.)

But 'Bunny', after seeing the man in blue and black latex, stood so still to the point of looking like this: 🧍‍♀️

You and him had a staring contest, so awkward and silenttt

Tho he snaps out of his train of thoughts when you finally, start to move.

Nightwing: !!!?!?!??

Darling: ....👋👋

nightwing: ...oh--

The hero of bludhaven could only pout inward, your normally so talkative and so very sharp tongued, so why wont you talk to him like you always do bunny? :( (this man forgot hes in his nightwing persona for a sec 🤦)

Turns out, our dear is very awkward when around people :( (or atleast to strangers face to face, bc she has absolutely ZERO shame when it comes to online people and her friends-- or that depends idk bc girly is unpredictable)

Anyways, before he could speak up, you ran away.

Nightwing was very worried, so he stalked followed you as you make your way back home.

Once you locked your doors and go to sleep, he takes a sigh of relief... but not before pulling out his phone and taking a picture of your address and place.

<3 what a nice little home his darling has.

(From that point on, you see this man in both his hero and civilian persona almost too often for your taste.)

Darlings pov on dick is that hes pretty f*cking annoying, and nightwing is 100 times worse

Fun fact: you often throw things at him, curse at him, or sometimes even FLASH at him whenever hes nightwing.

(he once tripped on a slime you threw and he fell straight down to a garbage can. Whoops.)

you think hes lame sauce and cringe af

you also think hes the type to say 'Golly' Unironically. (Hmm maybe u should start calling him that 😈)

Darling seeing dick/nightwing on top of the roof of another house infront of her own: go home you sicko 😾

Nightwing literally camped on top of it with the rest of the batboys visiting him + watching darling also: 🏃‍♂️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️ (minus a running jason since he CANNOT be caught watching her as he has the 2nd best relationship with her in his hero identity)

Yandere rating: 100% on money, ∞% for nuisance, 50% for humor (-100% as dick g. sadly)

ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎

ʲᵃˢᵒⁿ ᵗᵒᵈᵈ ᵃᵏᵃ 'ʳᵉᵈ ʰᵒᵒᵈ':

ofc this man is one of her favorites 😒 darling really has both the worst and at the same time, most interesting taste in men.

Hes in your top 10 on donations, but he can be very busy sometimes ;(

(Huhu but dont u worry, he makes up for it by giving u ur well deserved hundred grand before flying away to the next big battle he has <3)

In civilian, he prolly met u loitering around wayne manor's gates

(Dont ask how darling LIVES in bludhaven, yet is also in gotham 💀)

Your pretty face, so familiar, he recognizes you almost immediately even in his disheveled state in the morning.

...you were that p*rnstar. 😦 (ps: u middle fingered at him after hearing dat)

"--hey, okay, i'm sorry for saying that-" after hearing his apology, you put down your raised fists and eyed him. From head to... waistline actually his dick as you see the very scrumptious outline of it even through his baggy pants.

His eyes follows yours and-- hes flustered! Your such a perv, really, even when not in front of your screen you still do things like this?! >:( (not that hes complaining... he knows u like what u see and maybe wears these types of pants just in case u show up somewhere miraculously like today-)

"...You--" he sighs, pinching his nose. Its so early in the morning and your already at work in spreading chaos--- oh.

He stares down below him, feeling your arms hug him with a sweet smile on your face.

He gets hard a bit. God your even more beautiful face to face--

"Teehee, i always wanted to meet one of my fans :D especially you, mr. Big ;)"

...ah, he feels a lot warmer all of a sudden, the faintest red staining his cheeks. You... your such a cheeky little--

"Hey stop THAT!!--" he shouts, as you snuggle him aggressively >:)

(After that, he gives you some hefty money, and you feel very blessed afterwards and asked if hed liked a 'hawk tuah' as a reward)

...he dont know wtf is a hawk tuah. "You and your weird trends..." he groans, but watches you run around. like a playful little kitty.

If your a bunny to dick, then your a small little kitten to him. It makes more sense, you arent fit to be a bunny, your way too loud to be one--

"Hey i heard that >:(" he sees you stomp your feet.

...okay, maybe then just a little bit. Just a little...

Yandere rating: 89% on money, 5% for nuisance, 85% for humor (90% as jason t. <3)

(everyone there will be a pt. 2 for tim damian conner and terry so stay tuned 😍)

#yandere dc #yandere dick grayson #yandere jason todd #yandere teen titans #yandere nightwing #yandere red hood #dark dc #yandere young justice

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mydreamchapter · 1 day ago

Text

the angel of warmth

pairing: yeonjun x gender neutral reader

genre: fluff with comfort!

word count: 3k

age rating: mature - mdni

tags: pet names, implied sex, reader was going through a shitty breakup

The morning air came with a chill bite, but it stood no chance against the pleasant heat radiating from the sleeping angel next to you. Yeonjun was like a mug of hot chocolate; warm and sweet, comforting in the cold, cozy, so delectable you wished you could drink him. So you tried to, in any way possible, turning toward him and wrapping your arms around his waist to spoon him, and gently kissing the spot where his neck met his back. He stirred slightly from the sensation, but was definitely still asleep. You could probably fall back asleep too, if you wanted to, but the mug in your arms was comforting in a way that you felt you had to be awake to fully appreciate. So you nestled your cheek against his back and gently tangled your legs with his, drinking in his warmth with your whole body through his soft blue sweatshirt and sweatpants.

“Honey,” he said, and you could feel the depth of his morning voice in your cheek. He found your hand and slotted his fingers between yours, his palm against the back of your hand. “Honey, you’re so comfy.”

“You’re so comfy, angel,” you said.

“But it’s not fair,” he said, and you could hear the pout in his voice. “You could keep me in bed forever.”

“Lucky you, we both have the day off.”

“Thank god,” he said with a sigh, and pressed his back against you more. He hummed happily.

Yeonjun wasn’t always there in the mornings, but he always happened to be there when you needed him the most. You’d been scared about the one-year anniversary since the terrible breakup you went through last winter — you’d never felt colder and more alone when it happened. Things had fallen apart with so little warning that you always worried everything was always capable of falling apart so suddenly the same way, again and again, no matter how good things seemed to be going.

But right then and there, you were just happy to have someone this wonderful in your arms.

“How are you feeling, honey?” He asked knowingly.

—

Yeonjun was the first person you called after the breakup. You had been so distraught that you left your shared apartment with your now-ex into the heavy chill of an early winter evening in just the sweatshirt and pants you’d already been wearing to wander in the night and try to clear your head, your now-ex’s car now off-limits, and called the first person you could think of.

Yeonjun was your closest friend in this city; you met at a painting club when you thought you should take it up as a new hobby. Of course, you weren’t very good, because you’d never been much of an artist, but it seemed like the intimidatingly gorgeous man next to you already had a background in art and was picking it up really quickly. You quickly discovered that he wasn’t actually intimidating — when you struggled and got discouraged, he would give you little tips and encouragement, and brighten your mood with his smile and the faint scent of whatever soap or perfume he had that smelled like sweet cinnamon. Things had blossomed into friendship after you kept coming back to the painting club week after week, always sitting next to the handsome face you knew would encourage you. You thought maybe that was just his personality, maybe he was always this nice to everyone, but he didn’t interact with the other people in the club nearly as much as he talked to you. You exchanged numbers one day when you knew you’d be gone on a trip with your partner the following week, so that he could send you a picture of his own painting of the week when he finished it.

So when your life started falling apart before your eyes with your ex in the center of it, it was instinctual to call him first. He’d known you were dating someone happily, and he knew a few base level details about your life, but nothing vulnerable that would have warranted him driving out into the city to pick you up so you could stay at his apartment for the time being — which is what he did.

“You don’t have to show me your pity,” you’d said when you sat down in the passenger seat, “you didn’t have to do this.” But when you arrived at his apartment, he gave you a blanket, a warm sweatshirt fresh from the dryer, and he washed a bowl of blueberries for you to eat with honey while he made you hot chocolate.

Of course, all you could do that night was cry; on and off, on and off, while Yeonjun stayed by your side. “You don’t have to do this, it’s not necessary,” you kept repeating, but you put on the sweatshirt, you clung to the blanket wrapped around your shoulders, you ate the blueberries and honey, and you sipped the thermos of hot chocolate.

If you’d known him better at the time, you would have spilled your guts, and vomited out all the hurt you were feeling and all of the terrible things your ex had just spewed at you before shutting you out completely. But you were scared to talk and look at all of it, scared to acknowledge what had happened even though the consequences of it were following you at every moment, and you didn’t even know where to start; so you sat on his couch and cried for hours, and he never left your side except to make you another hot chocolate once you had finished the thermos.

He offered to hug you that night, once. But you weren’t really keen on people touching you other than romantic partners, especially when you felt as vulnerable as you did in that moment. Even someone as beautiful as him. You explained this to him, minus the beautiful part, and he made sure to keep a line drawn between you that wouldn’t be crossed except for you reaching for the tissue box in his hands.

When you moved to this city to live with your partner, you didn’t know anyone else. You were ready to start a fresh new life, away from your toxic past and the ghosts of terrible people haunting you, so you could meet new people and find a happier life with your partner. But you always struggled making friends, and Yeonjun was the only person you’d managed to befriend in the full year since you’d moved here, aside from your ex’s friends that probably wouldn’t want to talk to you anymore. Yeonjun was the only person you had now in this city. Sure, there was your boss at work and your coworkers who knew you, but they weren’t the type of people you’d prefer to spend your free time around.

The day after the breakup, your ex made it clear you were no longer welcome in the apartment, and gave you one day to move out. With nowhere else to go, Yeonjun cleared up a corner in his apartment for you to put the few things you decided to take with you, and told you his couch was yours to sleep in for as long as you needed it. You reiterated that he didn’t need to pity you, didn’t need to sacrifice space in his own home or take time out of his day to make sure you were okay, but he just shook his head and did it anyway.

The morning of day three at his apartment and day three of you calling out of work, you finally asked before he left for work for the day. “You barely know me. Why are you doing all this for me?”

He clicked his tongue. “It’s not like we’re strangers; you’re my friend, of course I would want to help you during a tough time. And who else would? You said you don’t really have other friends in the city,” he said, and you frowned. “You have a good soul. It shines through your paintings, it’s clear in your attitude. You deserve good things.” You wanted to argue, but you knew it wouldn’t be fair. If he wanted to help you, that was his choice. It’s not like you had begged him for help or anything, either; all you had asked was for him to be a listening ear about your breakup.

He stuck some bread in the toaster oven, left blueberry jam, butter, and honey on the table, and left for work. “I’ll make you another hot chocolate tonight,” he said.

That night, when he put down the thermos of hot chocolate on the coffee table in front of you, you said quietly, “can I ask for a hug now?” The temperature outside was dropping day by day, and every moment you spent alone you could feel yourself dropping, too.

“Of course,” he said, and he sat down on the couch next to you to hug you; this is when you discovered how it wasn’t just his soul that was warm. You buried your face in his chest, trying not to cry again, feeling frail and weak, clinging to the warm body in front of you that was holding you tight in his arms.

“They were sick of me,” you finally admitted, still hiding your face in his chest. “They had all these problems with me and never brought them up even once. Never gave me the chance to fix them. Just got fed up and gave up, no second chances. And now they’re gone. I keep thinking that maybe if I give them time, it’ll click and they’ll realize how unfair they’re being to me, that maybe they’ll learn to communicate their frustrations in a healthy way,” you said. Yeonjun rubbed your back slowly. “It hurts. How could they just hide how much they were growing to hate me until it was too late? I thought we were fine and dandy, I thought maybe I’d propose to them next year. But they let their frustrations fester so much that they decided nothing was worth saving.” You were quiet for a moment. “Even if they did realize they’re in the wrong, no matter how long I waited, I don’t think they’d come back to me.” It stung like hell to admit, but you felt it to be true deep in your bones.

“I think it’s for the best,” Yeonjun said slowly. “You deserve someone who cares enough about your relationship to put effort into keeping it healthy. You deserve to be cherished, not tolerated. And you deserve the opportunity to grow.”

You let him hold you like that for a long time, soaking in his temperature and letting him comfort you. It was the first time you’d let anyone other than a partner hug you in years. He still smelled like cinnamon, too, especially from up close, and you realized it was his perfume scent. You’d spotted the bottle in his bathroom before but hadn’t thought to look closely at it.

“Cinnamon,” you said, without explanation, just trying to ground yourself in the moment.

“Do you want cinnamon in your hot chocolate? I have cinnamon sugar.”

You pulled away from him to look at his face, the low lighting in the room casting shadows on his face that emphasized his perfect features. Maybe he really was an angel. You drank cinnamon hot chocolate that night, and he made it for you like that from then on.

On morning number four, Yeonjun accidentally slept in late. Couldn’t sleep from work stress, he’d said. You watched him make himself a coffee and pour it into a travel mug he’d take to work.

“You always make me hot chocolate, but you make coffee for yourself,” you pointed out. You felt like there should be a question behind the statement, but you couldn’t figure out which question to ask. Did he not like hot chocolate? And if so, why did he always make it for you? He never offered coffee, did he think you didn’t like it? Why was hot chocolate his first instinct to make for you when he picked you up from the middle of the city that night?

“My mom used to make me hot chocolate when I had a bad day as a kid. I hope it’s comforting for you, too,” he said simply. “The coffee in the morning is to help me get through the day. And I’m really going to need the extra boost today.”

So that evening, when you knew Yeonjun would be home soon from work, you decided to make him a hot chocolate. You’d watched him do it enough times that by now you knew where the chocolate and the sugar was, and you knew which mug was his favorite, and you knew how long he warmed up the milk. So when he walked in and put his things down, exhausted and totally beat, you handed him the hot chocolate, and he just looked at you in surprise.

“Can I hug you?” He asked, and you nodded and took him in your arms.

Yeonjun really was like an angel, one who’d fallen out of the sky to look after you in your hardest moment. You were looking at his face and your hands were on his back, but you swear you could almost see the halo and feel the feathers sprouting out from his back.

You definitely thought of him as an angel when you were finally able to find a new apartment and he helped you move in, find new furniture, and get settled.

You still thought of him as an angel every time you met at the painting club again and he offered his gentle words of advice and encouragement.

You still thought of him as an angel a few months after the breakup when he spent the day after Valentine’s, what he called “St. Single’s Day,” driving you around the city and showing you his favorite spots, something your ex had never even done since they never seemed to have the energy to show you anything other than the bare minimum.

You still thought of him as an angel the third evening in a row you spent at his apartment that March, not even needing to ask what he wanted from the takeout place a few blocks away or if he was hungry in the first place, because of course he was hungry, the man had a black hole for a stomach; but this time when you came through the door with hands full of styrofoam containers of cheap Chinese food and he cracked a joke about you being a perfect partner, you felt your face flush. You caught yourself staring at the pout of his lips while he scrolled on his phone after all the food had been eaten during commercials in the middle of Wheel of Fortune.

You still thought of him as an angel that May when you kissed those lips for the first time on an evening walk by the river downtown, and he sighed happily into your mouth, his lips soft and eager and heavenly on yours, his hands gentle but wanting against your skin.

You still thought of him as an angel that August the first time you let his warm hands wander up your legs while you sat sideways in his lap watching a cheesy romcom on the couch, his fingers traveling slowly between your thighs, and then up to your waistband and down again inside your underwear while you gave him small encouraging kisses, his brown eyes drinking in the way you melted under his heat, clinging to him as you sighed his name into his ear over and over.

—

And you still thought of him as an angel now, on the one year anniversary since your ex broke up with you.

“I feel warm,” you answered, and noticed the morning light from the window shining a backlight on Yeonjun’s golden hair. He turned to face you. His hair was perfectly tousled from sleep, in a way that you wished you could preserve its perfectness and its soft backlit shine in your memory like a picture. But you also wanted to touch it, so you reached behind his ear and tangled your fingers in his hair to pet him. This made him smile, his soft cheeks plumping up in the most kissable way. So you did; you leaned in and kissed his cheek, and he turned his face until he caught your lips with his own, and pulled you close. You kissed him eagerly, wrapping your legs around his, and he tugged your hair gently in response.

It still hurt, though. Being abandoned the way you were abandoned last year doesn’t just heal in an instant, or even a full year. You still felt hesitant to call Yeonjun your boyfriend; even just saying the word still made you feel terrified.

Yeonjun could sense your thoughts start to wander through your kisses. “Hey,” he said softly, breaking away, and ran his thumb over your cheek. “Hot chocolate?” He offered. He hadn’t made it for you in several months.

“With cinnamon, please,” you said, and he got up.

“All I ask from you in return is to not let the bed get cold,” he said.

“Aye, aye,” you said, and sprawled your body across the soft sheets.

You wished it was easy to just let the past go. You wished it was easier to just move on from the pain. You weren’t sure where the future would take you, but you hoped it involved blueberries, honey, hot chocolate, cinnamon, and the angel of warmth that fell from heaven.

a/n: thank you for reading my first fic on tumblr! this was totally self indulgent so i hope it was enjoyable in some way to you too :) let me know if you liked it!

#yeonjun x reader #txt x reader #txt fluff #yeonjun fluff #yeonjun au #yeonjun #choi yeonjun #tomorrow x together fanfic #tomorrow x together x reader

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