#ghost fucker

[monstersholygrail]

Ever since you found out there was a Horny Ghost trapped and living in your house, you’ve been trying to help him move on. It started out when you moved into your new place, a house you got for a steal. You thought it was too good to be true until you saw the place in person and realized it was actually perfect.

With one little flaw that perhaps proved it was too good to be true.

Only days after you first moved in… weird things started happening. At first your panties just kept going missing. You figured the washer must be eating them up but no matter what you tried you could never find them.

Then you started waking up to your sheets soaked and the room reeking of sex. You never remembered having any steamy dreams but you must’ve if your bed was this soaked by morning.

But then things got even more physical. Strange sensations of pulling and tugging stretched at your towels as you were leaving the shower and at your clothes whenever you’d walk around in your pajamas. At that point it was impossible to deny the fact that you weren’t alone in this place and the other entity wanted something from you.

That’s when he finally appeared. Horny Ghost was perhaps the sexiest man you’ve ever seen even with his frame completely transparent and his skin a deathly hue. Your first thought when he revealed himself to you was literally, ‘awe, what a shame he’s dead. I so would’ve tapped that.’

And as if he read your mind he actually managed to reach out and touch you. His excitement made the atmosphere buzz with electricity and power around him. It shot straight down to your core, already making you more horny than before. The next few hours were a blur of fucking each other in the air in positions you never dreamed you’d be able to go in. If anyone had walked in they’d have thought you possessed.

Ever since then you’ve been working with him, trying to help him figure out ways to move on. Though it doesn’t seem to be as important to him as it is you. Whenever you try and get him to focus on figuring out why he’s stuck he just leans in and says you look so beautiful when you’re trying to think. Somehow you always end up fucking each other again after that.

In the midst of one of these fuck sessions, the pounding of his girthy ghost cock fucks a thought right into your head. A first for you but you weren’t gonna complain. It would take some planning but you were positive you’d finally found the key to sending him to the other side.

So the next time another attempt leads into a lustful distraction, you oh so subtly insist on taking control… and then you make him absolutely regret it. Dragging countless orgasms from both of your spent and overheated bodies. Even his usually freezing frame is now a sizzling warmth that practically encourages more of your gooey slick to trickle out and paint your bodies in a mix of combined release and new arousal.

Horny Ghost’s jaw drops, his eyes rolling back into his head, and a smirk playing on his lips. He can’t believe you right now, feeling a joint emotion of respect and rippling anger. His hands desperately pinch into your plush sides, needing to mark you, wanting to affect you more than you’re currently wrecking him.

As much as you’re trying to hide it, you’re not doing too much better. Your body trembles every time you bounce up and down on his cock, begging to let yourself fall and allow him to take control. It takes all your energy to keep going, your poor pussy spasming like it’s begging both for rest and to cum again.

“How you- hhng!- feeling, baby? So blissed out you can’t help but find p-peace?” You ask in between choked moans, his shaft rubbing up against your sopping walls, igniting every nerve of ecstasy within you.

His eyes widen, chest heaving as realization dawns at what you’re trying to do. You’re actually trying to get him to cross over. The fact that you were serious about all that astounds him. Why would he ever wanna leave when he’s finally found a perfectly tight cunt that massages his length like it was made just for him? The way she clutches onto him like she wants to suck him dry. That pussy is a work of art. No way he’s giving that up.

“You sneaky lil aahh! minx. Someone ought to teach you a lesson— fuck!” He snarls, fucking up into you even harder and jostling your body so deliciously. For a moment he’s entranced by the alluring jiggle and movement of your drool-worthy breasts before he snaps back into focus by your breathless giggle. “You think it’s gon’ be that easy?”

“I almost have you. I know I do,” you reply oh so confidently that it has him seething.

During your time together when have you been the one to get the upper hand on him? He thinks you need a serious reminder about that.

“Do you really? Mmph, yeah, we’ll see about that.”

With a speed as fast as the wind he gets a burst of energy and the air around you crackles. Before you can catch your breath he’s flipping you around like you’re nothing but a doll to use for his pleasure. Pinning your wrists above your head with a force you can’t see, he picks up the pace, pounding away at your insides like he’s trying to rearrange your guts. And with his powers he just might.

Your screams of pleasure are almost as loud as the squelching of your cunt every time your bodies meet. Despite the fact that his body has no affect on the outer world, the force of his thrusts drive you up the bed, causing it to creak with resistance and smack against the wall in warning. Yet he doesn’t slow down. If anything it fuels him to go even harder.

Shockwaves course through your body as your orgasm slams into you. You’re unsure if it’s his powers or just the sheer intensity of your climax as your insides buzz with pleasure and shake you to your very soul. As you feel your release gushing out of you the world goes dark and still.

Then you wake with a scream, your eyes flying open to find him still going. Heaving breaths leave you as another orgasm begins to build. Looking around you’re not sure how much time as passed or if he ever really stopped. But just like before he revealed himself to you, your bed is drenched with a mess of your slippery fluids. Soaking the mattress to its very core.

“Awe, how cute. Look who’s a-awake. The one so nngh! confident just a few hours ago.”

Hours?

You can’t even begin to think about that right now as his still rock hard cock swivels around inside you, hitting every spot that drives you to a blissful insanity. Screams pour from your lips and you’re unable to stop them. No energy left for anything but taking you over that edge once again.

And when you do your world fades away. All that’s left is each rocking of his hips as he rails into you. He’s taken possession to a whole new level as he transcends your body to a new plane is existence. Your cunt milks his cock, begging him to join you in this sensation. After all this time he can’t hold back any longer, coming right after you with a snarl that shakes the shutters and makes the house groan.

He buries himself to the hilt, ejecting ropes of hot sticky semen straight into your narrow channel. Together your bodies tremble against each other, barely any energy left between you, but the heat still well alive.

“You can’t get rid of me that easy,” he purrs in your ear and a chill shoots down your spine, swearing you can almost feel his hot breath ghost across your skin.

It seems it’ll take a lot more than this to get him to pass on and rest. In the meantime he’ll find a perfectly good resting spot right in your arms and in your perfect cunt.

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[symbiomancy]

mirror —ghost

—summary: The summer heat has you slipping between sleep and reality. Something not-so corporeal helps you cool off.

—warnings: ghost x human, monsterfucking, piv sex, mirror sex (technically), creampie, dubcon/somnophilia.

—word count: 1,3k

—a/n: no thoughts just horny. also on AO3

The best thing about living alone, you’ve come to realize, is the privacy. You’re free to do whatever: take your time in the bathroom in the morning or whenever you want, spend an eternity soaking in the claw-footed tub this house came with, walk around your home in the skimpiest clothing imaginable (not only does it help to beat the summer heat, it also (technically) leaves you less laundry to do), splay out on your king-sized bed in a starfish position, limbs akimbo, drag the full-length mirror in your bedroom in front of your bed and stare at the way any dildos you own get swallowed up by your greedy cunt.

No point in wondering why the last owner was in such a rush to get rid of it; so much so that he accepted well below market price for a freshly renovated, fully-furnished house with a moderate backyard in a relatively safe neighborhood.

The longer this heatwave lasts, the skimpier your clothes get. There’s barely any fabric to cling to your constantly sweat-slick skin by this point, just a tiny skirt hiked so far up your bare skin touches the wooden chairs when you sit and a shirt that’s more spaghetti straps than torso. The huge, double-door fridge is a reprieve, cool air billowing out and caressing your heated skin. It almost feels like a genuine caress, like someone’s cool hands sliding down your body.

Seriously, you need to get out of the house and meet people instead of fantasizing about the cool touch of your fridge. But the outside is infinitely hotter than the inside.

You kick the bedsheet away from your body, grumbling at the lingering day heat. You’d stripped the sheet from the duvet the moment spring chill had plunged into summer heat and stuffed the latter into the closet until fall. Even then, you tend to wake up without the sheet in the morning, finding it crumbled on the floor. Yesterday was another sweltering day. It has left the air stuffy and the fans only push the warm, stale heat around without providing any relief. You unplug them in a fit of frustration and cringe at the feeling of moisture when you lay against your pillow again.

Sleep doesn’t completely evade you but you’re not fully asleep, either. You think so, at least. There are moments of brief blackouts, where you open your eyes and turn to look at the time only to find not even an hour has passed. Your eyelids feel heavy.

Then, there are the hands on your body. Caressing, petting, groping. They’ve been there for some time now, just touching, feeling. They’re not cold, just cool enough to feel pleasant against your heated skin and inject some relief into your sluggish thoughts of sun and heat. A sigh escapes your lips at the sensation. Fingertips trance the expanse of your skin, draw constellations between your moles and freckles. The other hand moves to rest on your breast. It kneads the soft flesh, gently pinches your nipple between its fingers, runs a thumb over it.

You inhale sharply, heart thrumming in your chest, pressing your thighs together. It does little to quell the desire for friction, or touch. The hand tracing its fingertips down your body reaches your hip, then skirts across your flesh to rest on the inside of your thigh. You blink languidly; the heat is stifling, your head feels thick.

Cool fingers dip between your legs, press against your clit like — like they’re what? Testing the waters. You stifle the half-baked moan in the back of your throat.

The hands leave you all at once and you croak out a sound that doesn’t even sound like you, desperate and needy. They’re back not even a moment later, though, heavy on your hips as if they’re trying to guide you. You reach for a pillow and prop it under yourself. It’s a nice dream, you don’t need it to end because it forces you into an uncomfortable position that drives home the realization that it’s a dream. Because then you’ll wake up, alone again.

Something thick and heavy rests on your pelvis. Maybe this makes you a bad sex partner in this brief dream but you don’t want to reach out and touch it, guide it. If it’s your dream, your partner should know the where and how. The cool hands planted firmly on your hips pull you forward just slightly and the weight from your pelvis disappears. It rests against your entrance, but doesn’t push forward just yet. One hand leaves you and the tip of its cock drags through your slick folds, bumps against your clit.

“Please,” you croak, staring at the ceiling. Your throat is dry.

The stranger’s cock angles itself against your entrance and pushes in carefully. You take a slow, deep breath in, try to relax around the pleasant intrusion. The hands — under your knees now, guiding your legs apart. A body presses against your thighs. Whoever it is, stops, pauses for a moment. You clench around the cock buried in your cunt. A cold, shuddering breath hits you. Goosebumps rise on your skin. The hands push your knees further apart until there’s an ache in your muscles, and then they depart, one finding a spot on your waist, the other your breast.

It moves, then. The cock nestled deep within you sharply pulls back and thrusts in again. You scramble for anchor, to grab onto something but all you come up with is sheet that tugs loose. Their pace is dizzying, thighs slapping against yours, cock plunging into your wet cunt. The sound is so wet and lewd and goddamned loud in the still silence of your home. You go to stifle the half-moan half-groan in your throat but— wait, it’s your house, your dream, who gives a fuck about the neighbors? The cock in your cunt pulls nearly all the way out and thrusts in again and hits that spot, so good, dragging against your slick walls and you swear you feel every groove and dip, every goddamn vein. Your moan slips out involuntarily, and whoever it is here with you, seems invigorated.

The hand on your breast leaves, a forearm rests around your thigh, pulling it up and — fuck, their cock drives in so incredibly deep you nearly choke on your own spit. You scramble upwards, resting your weight on your elbows to look at your partner —

There’s no one there. Your bedroom is empty. But there’s a hand on your torso, cool fingers digging into your flesh and a forearm supporting your thigh and the shape of someone’s shoulder against your Achilles’ tendon. There’s a cock plunging into your cunt and you hear someone’s labored breathing.

The full-length mirror skids across the laminated floor and stops in front of your bed. Something invisible is thrusting into your pussy, gaping back at you in the reflection. Your face burns — your whole body burns. You can’t look away from the debauchery staring back at you. Whoever — whatever — it is, thrusts harshly, cold hands pulling you against their body. Your thighs are wet and sticky, slamming against theirs, your hole gaping back at you, being abused by something you can’t see. It sends you hurtling over the edge.

You come around the phantom cock with something reminiscent of a shriek and a moan and terror and pleasure all combined. Your cunt clenches around the thing your muscles sore and sweat beading on your skin. The cock plunges into you again and again and again and you blink back the tears and the fear and the overwhelming pleasure. The fingers on your body dig into your flesh and the cock nestled in you buries deep, thighs pressing against your own, and spills. It’s so warm, so pleasant. The mirror skids closer, right until it touches the edge of the bed.

Your cunt is forced wide open. Stuffed. The pearlescent cum coats your walls, oozes out from inside you, dribbles onto your bedsheets. The cock in you stays there but the body moves.

A small fogged patch, like warm breath, appears on the mirror, and then, letters.

Hi :)

Oh. So that's why this place was so cheap.

banners by @/cafekitsune

[frankiethedarkangel]

Could you write a story about a ghost that uses you in public while you’re trying to work as a cashier/barista? With spanking?

Being haunted had perks and disadvantages. For you, an advantage was unlimited orgasms. The disadvantage was that he'd use you at the most inconvenient times. Right now, you were busy during a rush at the cafe.

Order after order, you had no time to think for yourself. As you begin to mix some drinks, you feel smacks on your ass. Turning to accuse one of your coworkers, nobody was near you. All day you dreaded this happening.

The ghost followed you to work. You feel its hand cup your ass, squeezing it firmly to tease you. You feel it snake its hands around your body. The sensation leaves goosebumps on your skin. As you start to stir some of the drinks, there is a firm grasp on your breasts.

The grip is so possessive it feels almost like a warning. A warning of what's to come. A warning of what it's about to do to you while you work. Just as you're about to hand a customer their drink, the sensation of fingers in your pussy stuns you.

You spill the drink all over the floor and yourself. As if the ghost disapproves of your reaction, you feel a sharp sting on your ass. Feeling a welt in the shape of a hand take form. After profusely apologizing, your coworker remakes the drink as you gather everything you scrub the floor.

At this point you're just inviting the ghost to use you at work. You're on all fours, starting to scrub the mess you created. You can feel it line itself up behind you. Thankfully your work apron is able to hide most of what's about to happen. You feel a few more smacks on your ass. On the last smack, its hand doesn't move from your ass.

Feeling it rip open a hole in your panties, it feels your soaked hole as you clean the floor. The cleaning position you're in offered the perfect cover for the ghost to fuck you. It did just that.

You could feel it grip your hips tight and begin ramming itself inside of you. Its thrusts are hard, aggressive, and full of passion. All it ever wants is to get you riled up and use your pussy. Trying to mask your moans, you scrub the floor harder. Making excuses to clean random spots as you get fucked.

Everyone is unaware of what’s unfolding in the very room as them. Hell, none of them know you’re being fucked silly in the same area their drinks are made. As much as you dread the ghost touching you, it feels really good. Almost too good.

It slams its cock deep inside of you. Hitting your sensitive cervix with such force you let out a noise. The pleasure begins to swell in your stomach. Feeling your orgasm begin to rise from the ghost fucking you so hard.

Your knees give out on you while you're still trying to hide by cleaning the floor. You bite your arm to mask the sounds of your moans from your climax. As you recover on the floor, you feel a warm liquid fill your pussy.

The ghost bred you, while you're at work, in front of your coworkers. You get up off the floor with shaky legs and try to work as if nothing happened.

[con-dientes]

Imagine getting fucked by a ghost or an invisible force in front of a mirror. There’s nothing you can do but feel and see your gaping pussy. The best part is that you never know when they’re going to fuck you again since you can’t see them <3

[delicatelyscentedskinandbones]

Oh....to cockwarm a ghost...not even knowing it's there, just feeling so stuffy the whole day no matter what you do. Your legs shaking while you're seated at your desk, thinking you must have come down with the flu or something of the sort.

Leaking the whole time, having to hide in the bathroom to try and get relief, which in turn just turns on the ghost more...making it stuff itself deeper into you, thicker than before, your stomach bulging out.

[rosewritessmut]

Imagine being fucked by a ghost in front of a mirror. Not only can you see your pussy gaping open but you can see the impressions of their hands on you. Watch your tits move around as they squeeze and bounce and play with them. Watch your thighs being spread wider to better expose your body. Every part of you being played with by an invisible lover.

[gh0stgirli]

Visiting your friend, sleeping on her couch and feeling a series of touches that drive you insane. Fingers trailing up your legs, kisses to your skin that are only explainable by the fact you must have fallen asleep. So why not enjoy it?

The touch gains confidence; a push of your thighs spreads your legs and you feel the unmistakable pressure of a cock rub against your clit. You softly moan through a disbelieving laugh—even if it was a dream, it was hard to think your brain had come up with this scenario.

It’s only when your imagination pushes further, stretching you more than you anticipated and a louder moan escapes you. You find yourself hoping your sleeping figure, in the lounge directly outside your friend’s bedroom, doesn’t imitate the sound and alert her to the story unfolding in your slumber.

It’s almost too much. Almost. Your legs are locked around a torso you can’t see; you can feel every inch of the dick forcing itself deeper into your cunt. Gripping at the blanket you’d been offered and throwing your head back, you bite your lip until you draw blood trying to keep the sounds somewhat at bay as your ghostly imagination finally reaches as far as he can.

You’ve never felt so full.

Each drag of his cock sends shivers throughout your body; you’re rocked back and forth as the slow, careful thrusting turns into a forceful, frantic fucking that leaves you unable to hold back. The noises fall from you mindlessly, you reach for whatever is doing this to you but you feel nothing. Whatever is touching you, squeezing at the skin of your thighs as it manhandles you until one leg is thrown over the backrest of the seat and the other is pushed close to your chest until the tip of its cock hits impossibly deeper in your cunt, cannot be touched back.

Tears brim in your eyes. It’s painful, it’s intoxicating, it’s peeling every desperate shout from your mouth as you allow yourself a few moments to fall into your delirium, an ache in your abdomen inching closer and closer to a release your body tensed, trembled and twitched under the pressure of the best fuck of your life—that would never be delivered if not for your dreamland.

You cum with one last cry, louder than you’d anticipated, almost definitely leaking through your sleeping self. Clenching around this invisible dick, gushing around it in a way you’ve never done before. Left almost brainless and moldable, he doesn’t stop.

Of course the impossibility of it all had you believing this was all a dream but, unbeknownst to you, you’re relentless ravishing had not only been real but gained the attention of the very friend you were worried about disturbing.

Thinking you were silent outside of mind, you had woken her just in time for her to open her bedroom door to see the way your body jolted with every rough thrust of her lover’s hips; the curl of your toes that hung limply over the back of the couch while her beloved ghost fucked every spot inside of you that she knew had you seeing stars. She listened to every choked beg, every pleading gasp, the string of desperate little ah ah ahs that she was more than familiar with.

Maybe she should be jealous. Maybe she should find some sort of anger after her visitor chose you over her—who had dressed in her best lingerie in hopes he’d rip it from her body. But, instead, she simply hopes he’ll make his way to her after and thank her for the fresh body he could ravage.

And, the next morning, when she smiles softly at you and asks how your night was, she hopes to see that dazed look in your eyes as you sigh and breath out a ‘it was unbelievable’ she hopes you’ll come back for more. She hopes she’ll get to join in next time; she’ll see your cunt take her ghost’s cock as he takes you more feverishly than the night before. You’ve taken him once, you’ll be ready.

And so what if the fear of a real ghost changes how you react? That’s what she wants to see.

[weretentaclegirl]

When your new roommate said the apartment was haunted, you thought he was crazy. He said the ghost was friendly, that he liked to move things around and knock on doors sometimes, that you didn’t need to worry, and you didn’t pay any mind to it because the apartment was really nice and cheap.

But now you know he was right. Kind of. He got two things wrong: there were more than one ghost, and they were not friendly. They were horny. They touch you anytime, anywhere, no matter what you’re doing. You go nights without sleep because they keep fingering you and fucking you with their invisible cocks. You can’t take a shower without your pussy and mouth being used. Your panties are always wet thanks to their constant teasing, but they almost never let you cum, so you’re perpetually needy.

You cannot possibly tell your roommate about the embarrassing situation, so you refuse to leave your bedroom if he’s home. But now he wants to introduce you to some of his friends who came to watch the superbowl and you’ve run out of excuses, so you have to do your best to keep it together and watch the game while the ghosts do whatever they want with you.