Riku Tsukikage had never believed in ghosts—not really.
Sure, he'd heard the urban legends that floated around his school like dust on sunlight beams. Whispers about cursed stairwells, suicide pacts in the old gym, and a girl who still cried in the abandoned music room. But to Riku, they were just stories. Creepy, yes. But never real.
At least, not until tonight.
It started with a sound. A moan—soft, almost drowned by the night wind—slipped through the ceiling of his small bedroom like a sigh wrapped in silk.
He froze.
It wasn't a dream. He was wide awake, lying on his futon, barely dressed in the sticky heat of a summer night. His bare chest glistened with sweat, boxers clinging low to his hips. The room smelled of humid air and his own scent—faintly musky, warm.
The moan came again.
Longer this time.
More… desperate.
His fingers clenched the thin bedsheet. The noise came from above—the attic, maybe? But his house didn't have an attic. Just a sealed crawlspace above the ceiling. A forgotten gap between roof and home.
He sat up, heart pounding.
"...Tch. Probably a cat," he muttered to himself, though his voice was low and cautious.
But it wasn't a cat.
Because after that moan… came a whisper.
A girl's voice.
"…Riku…"
His blood ran cold.
That wasn't a name a random spirit would know. That was his name. His breath caught as he looked up at the ceiling. A thin line of dust drifted down, disturbed—as if something had moved up there.
His skin prickled with a chill that wasn't from the air. It was inside him, crawling over his bones, making his throat tighten.
And then came the scent.
Thick. Sweet. Heavy like crushed jasmine petals soaked in rainwater. It seeped into the room without warning, coiling around him like invisible hands. It was intoxicating. Erotic. Arousing.
His cock stirred in his boxers, twitching as the scent hit some part of his mind that had nothing to do with fear.
He gritted his teeth. "What the hell is going on…?"
The ceiling creaked.
And then—
Drip.
Something warm and wet hit his cheek.
He touched it, eyes wide.
It was… clear. Sticky. Smelled faintly like that scent—jasmine, salt, and something too feminine to explain.
Arousal and fear clashed in his gut.
Suddenly, the lightbulb above flickered violently, bathing the room in flashing white and shadow. The temperature dropped. And just when he opened his mouth to shout—
She appeared.
Not through the door.
Not from the floor.
She lowered herself—from the ceiling—like a marionette sliding down invisible threads. Hair long and black as ink, spilling around her naked body in slow, silky waves. Her skin was pale… almost translucent. Breasts full and soft, gently swaying as she hung upside down. Her face—so beautiful, it hurt—was turned toward him, lips parted.
Eyes—dead and shining—locked onto his.
"...Riku."
His body froze.
His cock, hard.
She descended until her face was inches from his. Her long black hair caressed his cheeks like satin ropes, framing her scent like a trap. Her breasts hovered just above his bare chest. Her nipples were hard—pale pink and pebbled.
She licked her lips slowly.
"I've been… waiting," she whispered, her voice a breath against his skin. "You can see me now, can't you?"
He tried to move. Speak. Scream. But her fingers—cold and smooth—slid over his chest and pressed gently down, pinning him like a weightless ghost might.
"You're the one, Riku. You're the first."
Her head tilted as her eyes softened—not cruel, not vengeful. But… lonely.
"Free me."
His lips trembled. "W-What are you?"
She leaned closer.
Her lips brushed his ear.
"I'm your first… curse."
Her breath was a cold whisper against Riku's ear, sending a shiver racing down his spine—half fear, half something far more primal. The scent of jasmine grew stronger, swirling around him like a drug, thick and sweet and impossible to resist.
Her fingers slid slowly down his chest, tracing invisible lines that made his skin tingle with a mixture of dread and craving. Despite the chill in the room, his body betrayed him—his cock pressed harder against the thin fabric of his boxers, desperate for release, aching with want.
"Why me?" he managed to whisper, voice rough and barely steady.
She smiled, a fragile curve that held centuries of loneliness and pain. Her eyes gleamed like pale moons in the dim light.
"Because you see me. Because you feel me."
Her hand moved lower, fingers brushing the waistband of his boxers. The ghost's touch was cold, almost numb, yet the sensation sparked a fire deep inside him that refused to be extinguished.
"You don't understand," she murmured, voice thick with something like regret and need intertwined. "I'm trapped here, between worlds, a soul broken and twisted by desire and sorrow. The only way to free me… is for you to take me."
Her lips hovered near his neck, brushing the delicate skin with ghostly softness. He could almost taste her on his skin—sweet, salty, utterly intoxicating.
"Take me, Riku."
His hands trembled as they reached up, hesitating, uncertain—but hunger won over hesitation. When his fingers tangled in her wet black hair, tugging gently, her mouth parted, releasing a low, almost desperate moan.
Her body pressed closer, cold against his heat, and the contrast sent a wave of pleasure mingled with terror through him.
"Your touch…" she whispered, "It's what binds us. Only your hands can break the chains."
Riku's breath hitched as she traced a path down his bare chest, fingers cold but electric, leaving shivers and longing in their wake. Her skin felt like fragile porcelain, yet beneath the delicate surface pulsed an ancient, aching lust that begged for release.
She leaned forward, lips brushing his in a kiss that was soft but demanding, a promise of salvation wrapped in sin.
The taste was bitter-sweet—like forbidden fruit laced with salt and jasmine.
Riku's heart thundered as his hands moved to explore the ghostly curves beneath him, feeling the impossible chill of her skin. The room seemed to pulse with their mingled breaths, shadows dancing as the night stretched around them.
He knew this moment would change everything.
Because this was no ordinary girl.
She was a spirit of lust and pain, and only through surrender could she find peace.
And through that, maybe—just maybe—Riku could find himself.
The ghost's lips parted slowly, breathless and trembling against his skin. Her hands slid with gentle urgency, tracing along his ribs, down to the waistband of his boxers.
Riku's pulse pounded in his ears as his fingers trembled, reaching to peel the fabric away. The night was thick around them, alive with whispered promises and secrets long buried beneath dust and silence.
Her skin felt like ice and fire all at once—cold enough to make him shiver, but burning with a desperate hunger that matched his own.
She pressed closer, her naked body molding to his, weightless yet insistent, the faint scent of jasmine and salt swirling around them in a seductive haze.
"Touch me," she whispered, voice ragged with longing. "Only through flesh can my soul be freed. Only through you."
Riku swallowed hard, hands trembling as they moved to cup her breasts—soft, fragile, the skin almost translucent beneath his touch.
Her nipples peaked beneath his fingers, hard and aching.
A low moan slipped from her lips—a sound both haunting and intoxicating.
Their bodies moved in a slow dance of heat and cold, fear and desire. His hands explored every curve, memorizing the ghostly softness, the fragile strength hidden beneath her ethereal form.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, lips finding his in a kiss that burned away hesitation and fear.
Their mouths melded together—hungry, desperate—seeking and giving all at once.
The world fell away.
Riku's cock throbbed urgently as she pressed against him, skin cool but alive, her wetness a shocking contrast to his heat.
With trembling hands, he helped her lower herself against him, their bodies joining in a union that was at once sacred and profane.
Every touch, every sigh, every gasp was a promise—a binding pact sealed in flesh and spirit.
She cried out softly, a sound like breaking glass and whispering winds.
And as their bodies moved together in the dark, the chains that bound her began to weaken.
The curse was breaking.
But with it came a new, deeper connection—one forged in lust, pain, and release.
When dawn crept in through the window, Riku lay still, the ghost gone, but the scent of jasmine lingering on his skin, and a strange warmth blossoming deep inside.
He knew this was only the beginning.
The night had claimed him.
And the pact was sealed.