#ghost!141

When you bought this (suspiciously cheap) charming cottage in the woods, you knew there had to be a reason, but quite frankly, you didn’t care. It was quite literally the perfect place to isolate and write.

The two-story cottage was stunning, with a small flower garden and lake view. The first floor consisted of a half-bath, spacious living room and kitchen. The second floor was home to your master bedroom and bathroom, which had the most dreamy tub. Sure there was a bit of fixing up to do!, but nothing you didn’t have years to do!

It’s a home you’d only dream about owning, as being a ghostwriter doesn’t exactly pay the big bucks. So when you found this little gem, nothing was going to stop you. 

(Not even the four handsome ghosts that haunt it.)

Move-in day was one word, rough. Doing it alone didn’t help, but you managed to get all of your boxes inside, at least, away from the downpour that had just blessed you. 

A tired sigh escapes you as you look around the living room. This is a mess for tomorrow, you think to yourself as you shiver. It was surprisingly chilly for late April, but Manchester weather and all. 

As you head up, you can't help but feel a little nervous. This was your first time living alone without roommates. As you get ready for bed, you change into an airy white nightgown, sheer and frilly. Sleep finds you quite easily as you snuggle under the covers.

Deep in slumber, you don’t feel the sheets being carefully pulled off you. Invisible hands play with the lacy strap of your gown while another pair pushes it up, revealing smooth, lush legs. Rough groans fill the air, covered by the sound of the rain.

The four men watch you sleep, their little intruder, no matter what the dead says. Their leader watches from the corner, cigar in his mouth, pondering what to do with you. They had no problem scaring people away; have done it plenty of times, but never had they had such a cute, lonesome visitor. He puffs out his cigar, the room now smelling faintly of smoke. 

He watches his men gently touch you, their eyes burning with a dark desire. Even as ghosts, his men had needs.

Needs you couldn't help with, dead or alive 

—— 

As you wake, you can’t help but snuggle deeper into the blankets, the cold air making you shiver. Sniffing, you vaguely smell a lingering scent of smoke, which makes you unwillingly get up. Slipping on a robe and bunny slippers, you make your way down to the kitchen to ensure you hadn't mistakingly left anything on.

Everything looks fine, you think. Chopping it up to being an old house. You gently look around the boxes in the kitchen to find your coffee press. Thank god I remember this and the beans.

As you mentally make a list of things that need to be done, youre greeted by a firm but gentle knock on the door. 

You still, unsure of what to do. You quickly head over and peek through the window to see a large man...with flowers? Covering yourself up with the robe, you move to open the door. If I die, I die.

“Hello?” You say, looking up to the tall man. He was handsome, with brown hair with specks of salt, a thick beard, and blue eyes. Reminds you of the bear form The Bear in the Big Blue House. 

“Sorry to bother you this early, dove. Names John Price, my three men and I live at the house across the lake. Bit of a track, but I wanted to introduce myself,.” he says while handing you a stunning bouquet of wild purple flowers 

His eyes crinkle as he smiles, making your heart flutter. 

“Oh!! That’s so sweet of you!! Ah, please, would you like to come in for coffee? I’m y/n, and thank you! These are stunning!” You say as you graciously take the flowers. What a kind man! you think.

“I’d love to dove, but I have to get back to work. How about the boys and I come over later? Introduce you and all,” John suggests while leaning against your door frame, which you quickly agree to. Getting to know the neighbors sounded like a good idea! Having no idea that the man you just spoke to wasn’t even there, nor were the three men who stood behind you as you spoke to him.

Johnny was downright giddy as he watched you talk to Price. While they could be solid and seen, they prefer to stay ghostly (pun intended) to conserve energy and watch. And watch they did, as your robe slipped up, revealing your lush form to him as you looked for a vase once Price left. He can’t help but groan out, making you look around for the noise. 

“Must be the house settling,” you say to yourself as Simon hits Johnny on the back of his head. Not that Simon could blame him, you were a pretty bird. And pretty birds needed their cages.

——

Soon, it was time to work, and Kyle came around to watch. He snooped, learning everything he could about you. Pretty, smart, and a ghostwriter. How fun. No family as far as he could discern, making him smile. Maybe keeping you would be the right idea after all, as he watches you google DIY projects for the cabin in between writing.

Kyle leans over your shoulder to read your work, causing a shiver down your back. You really need to figure out where that draft is coming from. 

“She writes… Porn???”

“Least I could do,” shrugging, feeling just a smidge self-conscious when that smile of his deepens. “You did scare off that salesman for me. Prick did not want to leave till you showed up.” That guy was trying to sell you on a shiesty looking vacuum and couldn’t take “no” for an answer. You can respect the hustle up until he stuck his foot in before you could close your door. He nearly got in had John not wrapped an arm around you and stared down at the man. Somehow, someway the guy saw intense flashes of blue and scampered off. “Besides,” you bend a little and grab the old cigars you got him a while ago, “these needed some changing out.”

Their scent is all gone and they look like all the ‘life’ in them was drained out. You recall offhandedly that Kyle said the man used to always have a cigar on hand when going about their work. They still haven’t told you just what it is, your bets on law enforcement. All of them are built like they live and breathe the gym lifestyle. Makes you feel like a sack of potatoes when you stand next to one of them… like right now.

John’s brow rises once more and he shakes his head. He wished he could’ve done more when that happened to you. If he wasn’t what he is now then he would’ve made damn sure that that guy would’ve apologized. At least you’re safe and that’s all that matters to him, “you still don’t have to but I appreciate it.” His eyes flickering down to his old cigars in your hands. He made good use of them and, “I’ll make good use of the new ones.” It is a bit of bragging rights when one of the men gets a new thing for their cubby. He’ll be sure to rub it in when he’s getting a nice smoke break.

“I’ll be out,” John murmurs quietly just for you. “Want to make sure that he’s not coming back around, okay?” You nod and he fades away from your eyesight. You won’t complain about that one bit, at least you’ll never have to buy a camera for security when your ghosts are always on sight.

Still though, you sigh when you look at how empty Simon’s is compared to everyone else’s. The only thing he allows is just a nice bottle of whiskey and a bone you found from the backyard. Everything else, like stated earlier, gets flicked off or mysteriously goes missing. “Wish you’d let me get you something,” muttering when you feel a familiar weight against your back. It seems to be how he always greets you, cold and spreading across your back and shoulders. His head always over yours or tucked in the crook of your neck.

“Don’t need anything.” He grunts and you swear he and John are one and the same. At least John will go along with you placing things for him.

“I want to though.” Hands pool around your sides and squeezes, “look at it.” Pouting at the desolate little space, “there’s cobwebs in there and I think there might even be a mini tumbleweed moving about.” Moaning on about how sad it looks till he turns you around, back pressing into the shelf as he pushes a muscular thigh between yours.

“You want to give me something that badly?” His accent drops an octave and it causes heat to grow in your belly. Cat has your tongue as you peer wide eyes up at him, your hands would land on his chest but it’ll just run through like always. You settle your hands on the wood as your stance widens to accommodate him. “Trying to be sweet for me?”

“W-Well, I mean it’s only,” you swallow when the hard muscle of his thighs clench. Your pulse quickening, “it’s only… fair,” biting your lip in concentration. Fuck, you’ve been all pent up since living here. Can’t have a quiet night to yourself without wondering eyes or ears. You’ve given up on fingering yourself in fear that one will hear how desperate you are.

“Tell you what,” his hand trails down your side. Your stomach quivers, the cold blending in with your warm skin when he dips under your shirt. “I want,” he lifts it just a little to see your skin. Fingers spread and his eyes burn something dark once said fingers go down even more. He tugs on the elastic of your shorts, “these,” blunt nails scrap as he tugs them down enough to see the beginnings of the panty that you’re wearing.

“M-My panties?” Choking on nothing when he tugs your shorts farther, he takes in the view of your old, granny panties. You would’ve worn something better, something lacy if you had known he’d do this but... You should stop him, you should move away, you should yell at him but you don’t. You stare entranced at how his eyes are an endless brown, “that’s what you want?” There’s a lustful want that shines through the cracks of the usually unreadable man.

He nods and leans right against your ear. “That’s all I want.” A ghostly cold breath cools down your neck, his thumb grazing against the fabric of the panty that you’re wearing, “can you give that to me?” His thumb tucks under and your breath hitches, he’s never done this. Sure, Johnny’s touchy and Kyle is always hovering after you shower and John will flat out hook an arm around your waist when you’re cooking but Simon? Simon only ever presses against you.

He’s making you dizzy in your thoughts, your cheeks are burning hot enough that it puts the sun to shame. “Y-Yes,” squeaking out as the firm callouses of his thumb plays with the bit of skin under the hemline. Teasing the fuck out of your eager pussy. God if his pants were real enough there would be a wet patch, maybe he can feel it since he’s kept his thigh slotted between yours still. “I can do that,” inhaling sharply as he tuts out a good girl.

He disappears as quickly as he had showed up. You’re left hot and bothered and itching for something more than a thumb teasing. Cours the fucker would leave you like this, you almost wish he could’ve done more. Or any of them for that matter… you sigh and head to your bathroom. You quickly look side to side before hurriedly shucking your shorts off. God, you’re wet, your cheeks flare when you fold and ball your panties as much as you can before putting your shorts back on.

The night found you quickly, your head heavy and filled with fog. Mentally groaning, you strip as you make your way to your bed.

You think about the men you just met and feel yourself blushing. They were too unreal to be real, offering to help you fix things.

Just the neighborly thing to do, you try to convince yourself as sleep over takes you.

Deep in slumber again, rough hands roam your fully naked body again, eager now that there wasn’t a pretty barrier stopping them.

Your nipples perked at the cold feeling, like ice dragging up and down your body. They twisted your limp body to fulfill their desires. Using your perfect body and wet, exposed pussy as they took each other in your rooms.

They whispered dark praises before finishing on you.

Your cunt now covered with their large amounts of translucent cum, groaning as they marked you as theirs.

Price couldn’t help but scope up the cum covering you and forcing it inside your wet slick. You shiver at the feeling, unable to wake.

He groans at how tight you are, at how deep he’s getting their mixed spent in you, wishing it would take.

“Fuck cap, yur killin’ us here” Soap pants, hard again, as he and Kyle work Simon with their mouths, watching their leader finger fuck their cum into you.

Simon’s eyes are blown wide, his low groans matching yours in your sleep, as your pretty body shakes as the orgasm rips through you.

Price smiles, kissing your soft lips before laying his head on your delicate clavicle. “Now we have our real fun, boys.”

——

You wake up with a start at the sound of glass shattering, your heart pounds, and a fear ripping through your core. You still, listening, waiting to hear when another clatter racks through from downstairs. Panic sets in, you don’t know what to do. It’s just you here. You don’t even have a weapon or a working phone.

Quietly, you grab the robe next to you as you creep downstairs. It’s too quiet and dark. You creep downstairs stairs before stilling.

1…2..3… mentally counting down, you head to the living room, switching the lights on to gasp— Your flower vase is shattered, and boxes of your things have fallen. Carefully, you walk around the shards, reaching to grab the nearest knife.

“I’m armed! And the police are on the way!!” You yell, your voice rough and laced with fear. You feel a hand touch the back of your neck as you scream, twisting the knife in the air.

Theres nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

You run and double-check that your doors are locked. Sinking against the living room wall, you try to calm down.

Had to be the boxes falling and the vibrations from it made the vase fall. That’s it. And now I’m just scaring myself. You think as you continue to count, easing yourself.

And that’s when you feel it, the ache and sticky wetness between your legs.

You feel it dripping slowly down your thighs, hands quivering as you reach down. Your thighs are covered with thick, clear liquid, making you whimper.

You close your eyes and parented you didn’t see anything. Youre safe. You’re okay. There’s nothing here. Close your eyes. Your safe.

——

Waking up, your body feels run over. Sore and exhausted, still on the floor, knife by your side.

There’s a puddle of clear liquid under you, making you whimper again. It’s still sticky and cold, and your robe is soaked through. You try to ignore it, knees hurting as you get up. Bath, I need a bath.

Like a new-born deer you make your way to the master bathroom, clawfoot tub waiting for you.

Steam fills the room quickly as you soak. You scrub your skin raw, as hard as you can with shaking hands. “No more scary movies or writing. I did this to myself," you whisper and lay back into the tub.

You breathe in the cool air and steam, your shoulders finally relaxing and your eyes closed. Like a guard dog, Simon watches from the corner. He’s planning on visiting you today.

You sigh as the tub cools. Finally, getting out to start your day as you wrap yourself with a fluffy white towel. You make your way to the sink, mirror foggy as you wipe it with your hand only to cry,

There.

Right behind you.

A dark figure in the mirror.

Turning around quickly, you realize there’s no one there. You can hear your heart and blood pumping, chest heaving.

There’s nothing, again.

I’m okay, I’m okay, you whisper like a prayer, washing your face. I’m okay, I’m okay.

—— You try to go about your day, working on the next scene of the book. You try to shake off the night, the vase, the bath, the liquid.

Your head refusing to acknowledge the liquid.

When a knock echoes through your house as you make your way to the entrance. Peeking out, you see one of the men from yesterday, Simon.

Signing in relief, you open the door— “Simon!’ What.. what are you doing here?”

He tilts his head to the side. His amber brown eyes stare down at you, making you feel small and trapped for a second.

“Promises wed look round, didn’t we, lil bird?” he grunts out, and when you remember.

“Oh my god, yes, I’m so sorry, Simon! I didn’t think it’d be so soon! Please come in; I’m being rude!” you turreted anxiously, hoping you didn’t offend the large man. “Can I get you a drink or anything? I’m sorry I had a… late night,” you quietly told him.

“S’alight pretty bird,” Simon pauses, looking down at you again. “Show me round, yeah?”

——

The tour was thankfully swift. Simon mostly grunted in acknowledgment as you showed him around. His large hands occasionally grabbed you by the small of your waist to move you before he could get a better look at the problems.

You can’t help but notice how tall and thick he is, especially when he manhandles you like you weigh nothing.

“Gonna be a lot of work, bird,” he grunts out, sitting down on the couch as you place a tray of tea in front of him. Large legs spread, taking up most of the space.

Frowning, you can’t help but curse your luck. “Ah, I don’t think can do them then right now. I’m sorry for wasting your time Simon” you say looking down in shame.

You don’t notice Simon get up until his calloused fingers grab your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

You swallow as Simon stares you down, eyebrow cocked. “We start tomorrow.”

“But I can’t pay..”

“Morrow’ bird. Now, go work.” He lets go of your chin a second later, squeezing it once more before making his way out.

Tea long forgotten.

—-