#ghost!toji

— something was terribly wrong with your new home. little did you know, it was because of the sneaky, little ghost that stalked his claim and aimed to make you his, even if it meant scaring away anybody who dared to get too close to you.

ghost!toji x fem!reader WORD COUNT: 7.2k WARNINGS: 18+, mdni, smut, oral, fingering, overstimulation, p in v sex, dirty talk, creampies, spectrophilia/phasmophilia, reader fucks a ghost and likes it <3

There was something awfully strange about the new home you bought. Sold for such a low price, surely something had to be wrong with it — leaky pipes,  faulty wiring, poor insulation, something had to give.

But, when you toured the older home, so beautiful apart from the tweaks you’d definitely have to make in order to make it look a bit more upkept, you saw nothing wrong with it at all. There was no reason why the price had been so low, lest there was something secret and hidden that you couldn’t find with the naked eye.

You took it anyway. If there was anything you’d find later on, you’d suck it up and deal with it, because the home was too good to pass up and really, you didn’t have all the money in the world to drop on a brand new, modern home anyway.

Besides, this one had character!

That old 1800s charm that might’ve been completely plastered over and painted a depressing millennial gray with the old wallpapers ripped off and intricate floorboards covered if it landed in the hands of somebody evil. You were just doing the world a favor, saving an innocent soul from becoming an eye sore and shared all over the internet like there was something to flex about it.

But… yeah. There was definitely something strange about it. Something you couldn’t quite place a finger on.

It was awfully cold, for one. Even in late August, the air inside the home caused goosebumps to tickle your skin and make the hairs rise. There was a constant chill that threatened to slip down your spine.

It was also incredibly creaky. In the dead of silence, you’d hear floorboards croak and moan, as if weight was being settled on them. There’d be faint sounds of something shifting, like something in the walls hadn’t quite settled and needed to get comfy again.

It kept you up for more nights than you liked to admit. An uneasy feeling would creep at your toes and slowly make its way up until your chest felt tight, your eyes darting around the room to assure nothing was lingering in the darkness while you slept.

You never found anything, of course. That’d be silly. Though, it never quite shook the feeling that something was always there. Watching. Observing. Curious and patient.

You tried telling yourself it was because you were alone.

A big, old house with just you in it was a recipe for paranoia. Too many bedrooms, too many dim hallways, too much silence to fill the empty space — it was no surprise that you had become so jumpy in your own home.

The more you stayed there, the more it made you delusional. You swore that at some point, you could feel eyes watching you as you scurried down the hallways, or undressed for a hot shower, or heated up leftovers in the old microwave that filled the air with a concerning hum.

Maybe, just maybe, you were due for a night out on the town. Maybe picked up from a guy at the bar and fucked reeeal good to rattle your brain and forget about your silly fears. Something to settle you down enough to get a good night’s sleep.

You sighed from where you stood in the old kitchen, staring at the clock on the wall that ticked annoyingly.

7PM.

The night was young — young enough to text Shoko and force her to come with you. After all, she could never truly say no to going out for drinks, and you were positive she’d be more than happy to find her own dick to saddle up on for the night.

Fuck it, you thought, slipping your phone from your pocket and reluctantly typing up a message for Shoko.

Anything to get your mind off of the lonely chill that seemed to seep into your bones from the quiet house.

“Yeah, you definitely look like you need to get fucked.”

You shot a sideways glare at Shoko from where the two of you sat at the counter of a random bar you’d looked up. She appeared smug, hiding a smile in her glass as she tipped it towards her lips to take a swig.

“I told you,” you muttered in defeat, staring down at your own murky liquid and swirling it around. The ice clanked against the glass, cold condensation coating your fingertips. 

Shoko sighed beside you, placing a pitiful hand on your shoulder. “Drink up,” she murmured, urging your glass towards you with a light push of her fingers. “It’s hurting me to look at you.”

“Thanks, Sho,” you muttered, earning a snicker from her.

You did as she told, lifting the drink to down the bitter liquor, wincing at the light burn it dragged down your throat. It didn’t take much for Shoko to order the two of you another round, which then turned into a third.

It was enough to have you buzzing, giggling stupidly at one of Shoko’s jokes. You nearly forgot about the end goal of the night until she excused herself to the restroom, leaving you with your own devices.

As if Shoko’s brief disappearance was the opener, you found yourself caught up in a conversation with the man beside you. It was nobody special — somebody funny enough to keep you entertained, pretty enough to cause your heart to flutter, and easy enough to have heat pooling to your core.

It had been a long while since the last time you had sex, and with Shoko’s unwavering support from where she cheekily gave you a thumbs up and a grin from across the bar where she had found her own victim for the night, you decided to go for it.

After all, there didn’t have to be any strings attached, right? It was careless fun and a much needed stress reliever.

You weren’t too sure how the two of you ended up stumbling outside with drunken giggles and arms grabbing on to one another, but you somehow managed to make it into the back of a cab, sharing breathless kisses as the poor driver tried to ask for a location.

Without a thought, you murmured your address, the car slowly pulling away from the curb and down the dim streets, music slowly becoming louder as the driver increased the volume to shadow your heavy breaths.

Your date was nice enough to toss a few bills to the driver, helping you out of the cab. You fumbled on knobby knees and shared drunken laughter as the door slammed shut, his arm holding you steady to guide you to the door of your home.

The night was quiet. Eerily quiet. It was the type of quiet that normally would send a rattle through your bones.

Wind rustled the tall trees and grass that surrounded your property as you clumsily fiddled with your keys. Your date — hell, did you even fucking remember his name? — stood beside you, his nose buried deep in the side of your neck, pressing wet kisses along the smooth skin.

Finally, you managed to shove the key into the lock, turning it until the door burst open, nearly slamming against the wall.

The two of you stumbled in, wasting no time. He eagerly backed you in the hallway, hands grabbing hold of your hips and digging his fingers into the plump skin. You nearly tripped over your own feet in the process, only pulling away from his greedy lips for long enough to grab his hand and guide him to your bedroom.

Your mind was a doozy, the room spinning once you entered the large bedroom. The alcohol was fully blinding your senses, causing your vision to blur as you dropped on to the bed to watch the man before you begin shucking off his shirt in a daze.

You could feel your heart rate pick up in excitement — excitement that you wouldn’t have to spend the night alone, that you could finally declutter your mind from its worries, that you could finally not have to worry about invisible eyes lingering on you around every corner of your own home like you had a secret stalker.

You didn’t even know this man’s name, too drunk to remember, but you didn’t have enough in you to care, simply basking in the temporary relief and allowing yourself the much needed experience.

The man kneeled before you, slow in slipping off the heels that caused your feet to ache. His rough fingertips slid along your ankles, trailing up your calves once the shoes were removed. They slowly creeped under the hem of your dress as he gazed up at you in a drunken daze, one that you could only stupidly grin at.

Thump.

You froze. His movements halted, fingertips tickling your upper thighs.

Thump thump.

Your heart rate picked up as your face contorted into one of confusion.

“You married?” he asked you, to which you frantically shook your head.

“No,” you replied quickly.

THUMP.

You sat up in your bed at the speed of light, eyes finding their way to your closed bedroom door. Closed, like always, from the pure muscle memory that you feared something might slip its way in in the darkness any night and disturb you from your sleep.

“Then who the fuck is that?” he asked, voice souring.

He stood from where he kneeled, swaying lightly from the alcohol in his bloodstream. You shot up on your own feet, catching yourself when your balance stuttered.

“I-I don’t know,” you replied honestly, attempting to walk after him when he pulled open the bedroom door.

The two of you were a drunken mess of wobbly knees and hands pressed against the wall to stay upright. He seemed suddenly different, going from sweet and kind (or, as kind as somebody could be while drunk), to angry and jealous, stalking around your home like he was fully expecting to catch you in a lie.

Maybe you did have a husband, somebody who came home earlier than you thought, unexpecting of a new man in your bed — except none of that was true, and he was merely making assumptions based off of the liquor that was clouding his mind.

THUMP!

Another sound, loud, coming from the kitchen. Your blood ran cold as you wondered if somebody had followed you home, or if maybe he had set you up. You were stupid to let a stranger in your home so late in the night with nothing but a few french fries and about six shots in your system.

You had no defense, no fight, no way out.

When the two of you came across the kitchen, the air stalled with silence.

You stared at the cabinets that were once closed, now hanging open as if somebody had been raiding through them.

The items on your counter, such as the fruit bowl that was merely for display (and to make yourself feel healthier) were turned over, apples and oranges spilled on to the floor. The paper towel holder was in the wrong spot. The knife holder was turned on its side with some of the blades threatening to slide out along the counter.

Your blood ran cold. Your feet remained frozen along the wooden floor, unable to move.

The man you took in seemed just as startled, if not more, suddenly appearing much more uncomfortable than before. He took a step back, eyes darting between you and the kitchen.

He seemed to have sobered up rather quickly.

“Are you messing with me?” he asked accusingly.

Your eyebrows raise and you quickly shake your head. “No, I swear—“

“Then what the hell is this?” He gestured to the kitchen, seeming frantic in his movements.

You opened your mouth to respond, sputtering over your words because truly, you had no fucking idea. You were just as scared as he was!

The mystery man wasted no time in storming back to your bedroom to grab his shirt and shove it over his head. You watched with a frown, not even finding the fact that the shirt being inside out was funny, too riddled with worry and concern at the horrible twist of the night.

You didn’t follow or chase. Hell, you didn’t know his name and he was just going on the list of forgotten faces you’d hooked up with in the past, so why should you care? Besides, you had bigger worries.

What the fuck was in your house?

It wasn’t a matter of who. It was a matter of what.

You knew now that something was truly strange about the home. There was a reason why it had been so cheap, and this was why. There was something living there.

You flinched as the door slammed, signaling that your hookup for the night was up and out of there without so much as a glance back. You shook with anxiety now that you were once again alone, hands twitching by your sides as you fought against grabbing your phone and asking Shoko to come back and spend the night.

You knew she was saddled up with somebody already. Hell, knowing her, it was probably more than one — regardless, she was definitely occupied.

You ran a hand down your face, staring at the destroyed kitchen.

You’re drunk, you thought. And extremely delusional.

Maybe the alcohol was bad? Or… maybe you were roofied?

You desperately tried coming up with any solution that could explain the abnormality that had transpired in your home, though, nothing made sense.

You didn’t quite know what to do with that information.

You dragged yourself to your bedroom, locking yourself in it and keeping the lamp on to flood the walls in a yellow warmth. Rather than linger and egg your paranoia on, you crawled into bed and forced yourself to try and sleep the drunkenness off.

At least with the light on, there were no shadows to taunt you into fear.

Though, the lamp didn’t stop the watchful eye from observing you as it always had since the day you moved in, concealed enough to where you didn’t notice it in time. If you had looked hard enough, you would see the glimmer of something that could only be mistaken for pride.

The morning after that whole ordeal, you walked into a kitchen that was… completely ordinary. It was as if nothing had happened, not a single thing out of its place.

You thought you were crazy, or that you really were roofied by the asshole that had left you to fend for yourself against a potential threat. Either way, you accepted either of those possibilities, hoping that it was something you could move on from and live peacefully.

Though, the strangeness continued.

You’d come home to a chair slightly pulled out and crooked, like somebody had sat there.

A book resting on the living room coffee table, unopened but with a small page corner tucked to hold its place.

Your closet door slightly cracked open, as if it had been carefully raided and looked through, though not a piece of fabric was ever moved too far out of place.

These things were so subtle, you were beginning to think you truly were just crazy. It caused you to backtrack your entire mornings, wondering if you were the one who had left the TV on, or forgot to turn the faucet off after brushing your teeth.

Over time, you’d come to accept it.

Maybe you really were doing these things, and for a while, you wondered if you needed to see a doctor. Memory issues were a big deal, and you were still so young. Maybe there was something wrong that you weren’t quite aware of yet that could only be found by visiting the doctor and getting a check up.

However, they found nothing wrong. In fact, you were incredibly healthy, as one should be at your age.

So, you went to another doctor.

Then another.

All told you how perfect you were in health, and it began to drive you a bit insane.

“Might I suggest a shrink?” the latest one had told you.

Some doctor in his sixties, one who didn’t seem all that concerned about your actual health and more so the state of your mentality, was the only honest one of the bunch, and the only one to tell you that perhaps your house was disturbed and it was affecting your peace.

Naturally, you followed his advice.

There was no harm and no foul in having a shrink come dissect your house and rid it of any negative energy being held in the walls and halls, right?

That was exactly how you ended up calling Shoko to ask for her friend, Suguru’s, number. 

You remember him being a bit strange growing up, maybe even a bit deranged. There was always this eerie calm about him that unsettled most people, but really, he was just an incredibly spiritual person, something you’d come to learn as you got older and heard more about him in brief conversations.

He agreed to visit without hesitation when you reached out. A simple explanation through a short phone call was enough to have him requesting your address and letting you know a day he could come in the week. He was polite and kind over the phone, just like you remembered, and even more so in person when he arrived at your house a mere week later.

“Oh,” he said before he had even stepped foot in your home. “It’s quite… loud.”

“Loud?” you proclaimed, eyebrows shooting up. You glanced around your home from the doorway. Dead silence. “…Is it?”

“Very,” he murmured with a smile as if it didn’t phase him. “Can I come in?”

You fumbled to open the door wider, stepping to the side so he could shuffle in. His long, dark robes brushed by you as he entered, and you caught whiffs of something musky and earthy, like he’d kept herbs in his pockets.

The moment he fully entered the home and the door was shut, the air felt cold. It sent chills down your spine and goosebumps to rise along your arms. He hummed in what sounded like acknowledgement like he could feel the shift, too, and simply padded down the hallway like he’d been there a million times.

Suguru was always a welcome friend, so you simply followed behind, watching his back carefully as he took in… whatever it was he was looking for. You didn’t have a clue, really. You liked him, but there was no doubt that he was just as strange as the very house you stood in.

“So,” you said, breaking the focused silence. “Anything… weird?”

“Oh, certainly,” he hummed with a smile. “Definitely weird.”

“…Okay.” You stared at him while he observed the kitchen before continuing down the hall. “Like… bad weird? Good weird? I don’t really know what that means.”

“Mm.” He glanced back at you, shrugging. “Neither.”

You blinked, feeling your left eye twitch.

“Suguru.”

“Yes?”

“I’m going to throttle you.”

Suguru laughed lightly, completely dismissing your comment. He continued on until he stopped at your bedroom door, seemingly intrigued by whatever was hiding behind it.

His hand lifted to turn the knob, gently pushing open the door until it quietly knocked against the wall. Unsurprisingly, the room was empty, though his interest seemed to have peaked.

“Your room, I presume?” he asked.

You nodded.

“I don’t think it wants me to go in there,” he sighed, disappointed. “Quite a jealous one, you have.”

“I—“ You paused, bewildered. “I’m sorry?”

“The soul that’s attached to you,” he explained casually. “Or, more so, your house, I guess. I can sense a bit of hostility.”

Your heart raced as realization hit you. Sure, there was probably a really deep part of you that knew something sinister was going on, but you had spent so long forcing yourself to think that it was you that was the issue that now, hearing the truth out loud didn’t feel very believable.

Everything made sense now.

All those nights, thinking you weren’t alone in the house, suddenly clicked in your brain like a missing puzzle piece. You were right — you weren’t alone.

The night that you brought a man from the bar over and the kitchen wreaked havoc? It was whatever Suguru was referring to right now — this… this soul.

Stupid, cock-blocking, bitchless soul.

“Spirit would be a better term,” Suguru continued calmly. “Or, some may say ghost, though I think that’s a silly version. Spirit is much more suitable.”

“Right,” you muttered, staring at him. “Yeah. Okay. A spirit is haunting my home.”

“Correct.” He smiled bashfully.

“Like, right now.”

“Yes.”

“…Is it here?”

“He is watching, yes.”

You lifted your hands to press your palms into your eyes, rubbing them harshly and praying that it would make Suguru disappear and take the spirit with him.

“The spirit is a he,” you said dryly.

“He is,” Suguru said, smiling. “And he doesn’t like that I’m here.”

“Well that’s too damn bad for him,” you scowled, looking around the hallway as if you could find the ghost and make direct eye contact with him. Maybe throw a threatening glare and scare him off. “I want him gone.”

“Yeeeah, that’ll be quite difficult,” Suguru confessed, sighing and allowing his shoulders to drop in disappointment.

“What?” you squawked. “Shoko told me you were an expert at that sort of thing! Y’know, exorcising or whatever the hell it is. Getting rid of it!”

“I am,” he retorted smugly. “But your spirit’s a greedy little bastard. He’s stalked his claim on this house and on you. I fear exorcising won’t do much but piss him off.”

“So you can’t do anything?” you asked.

“I can’t do anything,” he mused. “But you can.”

This caught your attention.

Your eyebrows raised and you leaned in a bit closer, close enough to smell that earthy scent once more.

“I’ll do anything,” you pleaded, desperate for relief from the shackles this spirit had on you.

Suguru looked at you, really looked at you, and for the first time, he appeared almost pitiful. You didn’t like that.

“How open are you to spectrophilia?”

You froze. Looked bewildered. Stared for a long time.

“…What the hell is that?” you finally broke.

Suguru chuckled, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck sheepishly. “Apologies. I got ahead of myself,” he said politely. “What I meant to say was, how open are you having sex with a spirit?”

“Sex?”

“Yes.”

“You want me to fuck a ghost.”

“Not me,” he defended, raising his hands. “Him.”

“The ghost wants me to fuck him?”

“Spirit,” he corrected. “But yes. I suppose doing so may solve your problem.”

You couldn’t possibly fuck a ghost— or, spirit. There was no way. Shoko had to be pranking you, and Suguru definitely had to be a part of the plan.

However, when you looked at Suguru and the eerie calmness that exuded from him as he continued touring your home so freely, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was being serious. Surely, he wouldn’t drive all the way across town to visit your home with intentions to help you for a mere prank, right?

You were waiting for the ‘just kidding!’ or ‘ha, we got you good, bitch!’ but it never came, and you weren’t sure whether to feel relieved by that or terrified.

“So I fuck this… spirit,” you said slowly, Suguru smiling at your correct terminology, “and he’ll leave me alone?”

“Possibly,” he shrugged, tapping a finger on his chin. “Spirits like him are unpredictable. Possessive little things. He wants me gone.”

You swallowed, glancing around as if the spirit was going to come outright and reveal itself.

“Does it… have a name?” you asked hesitantly.

Suguru grinned.

As if on cue, a book fell from the shelf in the hall. It flopped to the ground with a thud. Then, another, until the entire bookshelf was toppling over in a heap of rage.

You watched in horror as the mess piled up, your poor books becoming the brunt of the spirit’s abuse.

“Toji,” Suguru said easily, completely unnerved by the display of abnormality. “And I believe that was his way of telling me to get out.”

Toji was certainly a dickhead of a spirit.

Ever since Suguru’s visit, he made sure to make his presence known in the most aggravating ways.

Hiding your underwear.

Spilling the last of your sugar on the floor so you couldn’t use it in your coffee.

Misplacing your keys to make you late for work.

He was a fucking asshole, even when he was dead. You hated him.

Once fearing the spirit, you had now come to despise him, quietly cursing at him under your breath every chance you got when you noticed he was up to no good. You didn’t even know what the fucker looked like, but you were sure he was an ugly, little mutant that resembled a rat more than a human.

On top of all the bullshit he was doing to your poor mental stability, he was also growing bold.

One too many nights, you’d woken in the midst of a deep sleep, heart racing as you shot up in bed because you swore you felt something touching you. A gentle graze on your ankle, or a light brush of your hair so it tickles your cheek.

Lately, though, you’ve woken up to featherlight touches to your upper thighs, as if he was testing the waters with how far he could go. Every night, they grew a bit bolder. Higher. More intense.

Sometimes, it’d scare you. Other times, it’d turn you on.

You were growing increasingly sexually frustrated the more you had to live with the stupid spirit, and he was making it incredibly hard to exist.

How could you enjoy your home when all you could think about was feeling his cold fingers finally break through the fabric of your sleeping shorts and slip along the slit of your weeping pussy?

How could you even fuck a ghost?

Was he, like… transparent? Or, invisible?

Would your hand pass through if you tried fisting his cock?

God, you needed help. It was ridiculous that you were even imagining these things. I mean, fucking a ghost? Seriously?

The pain of not getting laid was growing unbearable.

The last time you tried, your kitchen was torn apart and your date for the night had fled in fear without a care in the world for your own safety, all thanks to your no-good, unwelcome roommate.

You could always take your shot at the bar and try again, but every time you debated it, Suguru’s words kept flashing back in your mind.

“He’s stalked his claim on this house and on you.”

Cock-blocking motherfucker.

Even if you did try to get laid, Toji would make sure you wouldn’t even be able to get one leg out of your pants before he decided on smashing all of your nice plates in retaliation. Not only that, but he’d definitely scare off another date before they could so much as stick their dick in you.

Fuck him, and fuck this house.

It was your house now, not his, and you could stalk your claim, too.

Lying in your bed and staring at the ceiling, you knew he was somewhere lingering. Though you couldn’t see him, you had a great sixth sense of his presence now, even if he wasn’t directly in the room. The bastard was always two steps behind you, no matter where you went.

Good. That meant he could sit there and watch.

Your fingers tapped lightly along your stomach as you shifted on your back to get comfortable. Without even properly touching yourself, you could feel how wound up you were, all the built up tension pulling in a tight coil until you were taut and tight.

It made the night all the more exciting.

Slowly, you slid one of your hands up your side, stopping below your breast. Your fingers brushed lightly against your soft skin, nipples already perking up in interest.

The room felt colder, a good sign that Toji had slithered his way into your room somewhere like the creep he was, watching as two of your fingers pinched at your sensitive nipple.

The sensation caused your mouth to part, a quiet gasp sucking into your lungs. Warmth pulled between your legs in a near instant, thighs instinctively pressing together.

You tugged on the poor bud, writhing lightly against your sheets. You carelessly pushed your shirt higher up so it rested under your chin, tits on full display, and slid your other hand up so you could grab a handful of your other breast, rolling your nipple between your fingers.

Your throat produced quiet, little sounds that were more breathy than anything, but it was enough to disturb the aching silence in your bedroom.

You let your back arch into your own touch, releasing one of your breasts to slide it down your stomach until it settled between your legs. You could practically feel the heat coming off of you, and you only confirmed that warmth when your fingers gently swiped through your own slick, coating your skin.

You were soaked, more soaked than you could ever recall being before, even with a dick to salivate over in the past. God, it was almost too easy to glide your fingers up your slit, teasing your entrance before coming up to roll taunting circles over your neglected clit.

A broken sound left you, your back arching deeper as your hips bucked up to meet your own teasing fingers. Your clit was so sensitive, but you pushed through the stimulation and continued circling it at a quick pace until you were a whining mess.

Finally, you were getting relief from the pent up frustration that threatened to snap in your body everyday. It was like a dam preparing to crack and break, ready to release a full gush of rushing waters for sweet, sweet relief.

You needed more, craved more. Now that you were getting a fix, your body was being greedy, ready to suck in your fingers and have you fuck them in and out until you were in tears.

Except, when you dipped your fingers lower, daring to slip them into your waiting entrance, a force stopped you. Something wrapped around your wrist, successfully holding you back from being able to curl your fingers in deep and press along your gummy walls.

Your blood ran cold, and you instantly froze, eyes snapping open to sneak a look.

Once you saw, you wished you would’ve just kept them closed. Hell, you wished you didn’t even tease Toji by putting on a show for him, for the man in front of you was unlike anything you imagined.

Not to mention, he was not transparent. He looked… real. There was no translucent skin like you’d seen in movies. He wasn’t floating like Casper, and his legs didn’t curl ridiculously into a strange blob. He looked completely normal and felt completely normal apart from how cold his touch was.

“The hell you think you’re doin’?” he asked, and you felt the wind knock from your chest at the sound.

For so long, it’d been just you in the house, your voice being the only one to fill an empty void. Your presence was all you knew apart from Toji’s lingering chill that crept through the house like a stalking predator, but this? This was new. Scary.

Exciting. 

“W-Who—“

“You know who I am,” he muttered lowly, dark eyes glowering down at you. “Don’t act dumb.”

“Toji?”

“Yeees?”

Your mouth fell open when his hand that wasn’t holding your wrist slipped between your legs. He didn’t give you a single warning before two of his freezing fingers slid into your aching cunt, causing you to whine out pathetically.

“Stupid girl,” he scoffed, eyes dropping down to watch as his fingers invaded your pussy, pulling out to slam back in with a nasty squelch. “Thought you could tease me in my house and expect me not to do nothin’? Look at you now.”

His fingers set a brutal pace, one that had you squirming against the sheets. You let out pathetic noises, unable to contain how good he was making you feel. The coil that was wound so tightly inside was finally beginning to unravel.

“This what you wanted, huh?” he asked tauntingly. He grinned down at you, grabbing your face with his free hand to force you to look at him. “Just wanted somebody to fuck this pussy dumb.”

You cried, arching into his touch, hips lifting off the bed in an attempt to ride against his fingers that were spearing into you. He gave you what you wanted, slipping a third finger in and fucking them into you harder.

“Yeeeah,” he chuckled darkly before leaning down to spit on your pussy. Oh, he was nasty. “She’s already takin’ me so well and it ain’t even my cock yet.”

“T-Toji—“ you tried, voice cutting off to moan when he curled his fingers up. It left you dumb, mouth dropping open, eyes fighting to stay open.

“Been waitin’ to hear you say my name, doll,” he breathed out through a heavy sigh. “Fuuuck, sounds even better out loud. Say it again.”

You yelped when he slid down to press his mouth against your clit, tongue lolling out to lick a fat stripe along the sensitive nub. With his fingers still abusing your poor hole, he buried his face into your clit, suctioning his mouth around it and suckling until you felt tears brimming your waterline.

“Toji!” you cried, and he hummed in approval right up against your clit, causing you to jolt.

One of his arms came to wrap around your thigh, his hand slipping up to press against your stomach and hold you down in place. Your hips fought against his hold, attempting to squirm away from the stimulation he had against your clit as well as the fingers being bullied into you, but it was no use.

He had you exactly where he wanted you, and the only thing you could do was take it.

“God,” he moaned against you, “haven’t had pussy this good in fuckin’ ages.”

You leaned up on your elbows, peering down at the mess he was making of himself. Dark hair mussed up, his face covered in your slick, eyes half lidded like he was drunk off your pussy.

He looked absolutely wrecked and it only caused you to tighten around his fingers as your stomach coiled with heat.

“C’mon, baby,” he pleaded, his eyes lifting up just enough to gaze at you. His pupils were blown and his lids heavy. “Come all over my fuckin’ face. Give it to me.”

He went back to sloppily sucking your clit and ramming his thick fingers inside of you until you couldn’t take it anymore. Your body broke apart of its own, shattering around him as you gushed around his digits, body tensing and arching.

Your cries filled the room as you shuddered through the aftershocks, his fingers unwavering in their pace until you had to press a palm against his forehead and shove him away.

“F-Fuck, Toji, gimme a break—“

“No,” he muttered dryly like your overstimulation was a hindrance to him.

He stood back up, spreading apart his fingers that were once inside of you, taking in the sticky slick that coated them. He practically grinned in pride at the sight.

“We’re not done,” he said, reaching down to slide a large hand up your stomach and to your breast where he pinched one of your nipples, causing you to yelp. “Been waiting for this pussy for a long fuckin’ time. Tried getting your attention for months and you still didn’t take the hint.”

His hand left your body, and you nearly whined at the loss of contact. Instead, he began reaching for his trousers, undoing the buttons and popping them until he could slide the material down his legs without a single care.

Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head at the sight of his cock, heavy and leaking, so hefty it struggled to hold itself up. You gawked, unable to take your eyes off of it as he began stroking it.

“Look at you,” he cooed, tilting his head as he stared greedily. “Needy fuckin’ thing. So fuckin’ touch starved you had to resort to doing it yourself.”

“Shut up,” you muttered weakly, feeling yourself grow embarrassed at how easy you’d been.

“Don’t order me around in my house,” he gruffed, curling his lip up in distaste. His hand continued stroking himself while the other leaned down to glide a thumb over your clit.

You jolted in surprise, legs snapping shut around his forearm. He paid no mind, continuing to stroke against your sensitive bud.

“You’ve got nerve, girl,” he said lowly, staring down at you with a look that could kill.

You weren’t sure whether or not to be scared or to grind against his hand.

“Bringin’ men into my house,” he spat. “Lettin’ them hang around what’s mine.”

“This is—fuck—my house, Toji,” you retorted, though your voice came out wrecked.

“Like hell it is,” he sneered, grinning maliciously down at you. “Last I checked, this house is still mine.”

His hand trailed lower along your pussy, slipping back into your greedy hole as you took him in so easily.

“This pussy is mine. Everything in this house is mine.”

You cried out his name when he began fucking you open on his fingers again. You threw your head back, eyes squeezing shut as he curled deliciously into your g-spot, making you see stars behind your eyelids.

“You got that, girl?”

When you didn’t answer, too fucked out to form a response, you nearly yelled out in both shock and ecstasy when you felt the tip of his cock slip in past your tight ring. It stung, though he didn’t seem to care, simply pushing himself in slowly, dragging himself along your walls.

“I asked you a fuckin’ question.”

“Yes!” you cried, fingernails digging into his forearms to ground yourself as he split you open on his dick.

It was unnerving how big he was, both in body and cock, and you felt like your body was being broken and stretched to accommodate his jarring size.

“These—“ he grabbed a handful of your breasts, “—are mine.”

His hands slipped down to your sides, groping and digging his fingertips into your fat. “Mine.”

He bottomed out, balls pressed against your pussy, dick completely stretching you dumb. You could barely even process anything, your brain shutting off with nothing but the feeling of his cock and the way he was talking to you occupying it.

“And her?” He laughed darkly, gathering spit on his tongue to let it drip on to your poor clit, watching as it slipped down to where his cock was splitting you open. “Mine.”

You had no warning before he pulled out to the hilt and slammed back in, causing your entire body to jolt upward. His pace began as brutal, unwilling to give you even an ounce of gentleness. No, this was built up tension that he was letting out on you. 

This was the claim he had marked you with since the day you moved in. This was the claim Suguru told you about, one that egged Toji into a greedy possessiveness, scaring away anybody who dared try to enter his home and take his woman.

He may have been dead, but he knew how to keep a pretty pussy happy. This was his for the taking, and he was going to savor every single moment of being sucked into you until he had nothing left to give you.

“I think she likes that,” he purred cockily, staring down at your sopping cunt as it sucked him in and clung to him in a vice. He wasn’t talking to you, no — he was talking to your pussy like the nasty fuck he was. “Can feel her squeezin’ around me like she doesn’t want me to leave.”

His hands came to rest on your hips, gripping them until your skin was dimpled. He lifted your hips until he could press you flush against his abdomen, reeling back just to surge forward again, slamming into you so hard, the room filled with the filthy sound of skin on skin.

Suguru was wrong.

Fucking Toji wasn’t going to resolve the issue. It wasn’t going to satisfy Toji enough to where he got some good pussy and dipped out into the afterlife.

Toji would rather die again than ever pull his cock out of you. Your cunt was so sweet and pliant, taking him like it was made for him, molding around him perfectly.

He’d be a stupid son of a bitch to ever pick the afterlife over this. This was his afterlife. This was him moving on to peace and serenity.

Heaven couldn’t compare to this. It could never be so fuckin’ wet for him.

He could die all over again simply from how beautifully you were gripping his cock.

“Ohhh, you made a mistake movin’ in here, sweetheart,” he huffed breathlessly, sweat dripping down to his brow. His eyes remained fixated on where your bodies connected like he couldn’t look away. “Never gonna let you leave. Can’t let you go when she’s fuckin’ made for me.”

Your body bounced along like a ragdoll, the sheets furling underneath you in a mess. You were fucked absolutely stupid on his cock, drool pooling in the corner of your mouth, eyes glazed over with a heavy mist. There was absolutely no hope for you, not when you were so desperate to keep that cock in you for as long as the universe allowed.

You were addicted. You’d never move out of that damn house. They’d have to drag you to the very pits of hell to keep you away from Toji.

And as you came for the second time on his cock, feeling his own seed (which, hey, how the fuck did ghosts even have functioning cum?) shoot into the walls of your womb, painting them a nasty white, you didn’t have a single ounce of regret.

Not even when he picked up the pace again.

Not even when hours later, you were completely spent and covered in his cum, leaking messily on the bed.

And now, as you laid there while he sweetly cleaned you up, suddenly murmuring soft things into your skin, you kind of hoped Suguru was wrong and that Toji wouldn’t leave the home and move on to bigger and better things now that he was done with you.

But oh, Toji wouldn’t dare.

Heaven could suck his dick.