abandon hinges all ye who enter here

He adores them, the size and weight of them in his palms as he cups them, gleefully spending hours groping, caressing, and squeezing them. Whenever he’s close enough, he toys with your nipples or sucks on them, desperate to draw out those beautiful sounds you make in response, the breathless gasps and soft moans that spill from your lips until your fingers are curling into his hair, nails dragging against his scalp as you pull him closer, silently begging for more. Your own quiet plea to bask in his devotion. His tongue continues to flick over each nipple until he hears you moan his name, surrendering yourself completely to the pleasure only he knows how to give.

Beyond this, there’s no sight he loves more than seeing your tits wrapped around the shaft of his cock, the feeling of you pressing them tightly together as he thrusts into their warmth, aided by the slick layer of lube you’ve spread over him and generously drizzled across your chest. His thumbs stroke over the perk of your nipples before he begins to toy with them, pinching, twisting, and tugging as he bucks his hips, chasing your pleasure just as eagerly as his own.

Much like now, only this time he’s sprawled on his back, thighs spread wide enough for you to settle between them comfortably, offering yourself to worship him.

It’s become part of your ritual now, using your body as devotion. Clear liquid dribbles from the tip of the bottle as you tilt it, coating both your tits and his shaft before you press them snugly around him to spread the slickness. His precum smears across your skin the moment you meet, mingling with the lube as it spreads, helping the slow tease of your movements as you squeeze tighter around him and work yourself gradually along his cock, completely enveloping the sensitive tip in warmth and pressure.

He hisses out a sharp, “Fuck,” eyes rolling back no matter how hard he tries to keep them fixed on you.

“Eyes on me, Ves, or you’re going to miss all the fun,” you tease, watching him struggle to drag his gaze back to yours, determination flickering across his features.

“That’s a good boy,” you coo, earning a low growl in response.

Reaching out, his hands settle over yours, helping you squeeze your tits tighter around him. Between them, you feel his cock twitch as his hips buck upward, slowly dragging himself through the tight valley you’ve made for him. He watches the way the tip of his cock pushes up between your breasts with every thrust, grunting softly at each movement.

You can’t ignore the pleasure coursing through you, the way your panties cling to you between your thighs from the growing wet spot already forming. Watching him unravel beneath you like this from such a simple act is just as satisfying as any other way you’ve made him come undone, and Vessel doesn’t hold back. His thumbs brush over your perked nipples each time your breath ghosts over the sensitive tip of his cock as you lean closer, your lips curving into something dangerously close to a smirk.

“I should make you beg,” you declare, and for a moment it pulls him from his pleasure drunk haze.

“What?”

“I should make you beg to cum like this. To cum all over my tits,” you purr, your gaze turning sultry as you watch your words fully register. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Seeing my pretty tits covered in your cum, all thick and creamy, making such a mess of me. Claiming me.”

He gasps at the emphasis you place on the word, as though the thought of marking you like that, of having that kind of claim over you, is enough to exhilarate him completely.

“Please… yes, please…” There’s no denying the desperation in his voice, the way it bleeds into broken groans as he bucks his hips, guiding his cock through the slick warmth of your tits. His fingers shift to pinch and tug at the sensitive buds, drawing a moan from your own lips. He wants you riding the same high as him, determined to drag you into that same overwhelmed, sensitive state.

“Yeah? Is that what you want? To see my tits painted all pretty?” you murmur, letting your head dip forward just enough to slip out your tongue, teasing the sensitive tip of his cock as it glides against it. You lap at the precum spilling from him, but instead of swallowing, you let it drip back down from between your lips to join the slick mixture of lube and precum already coating both him and your chest.

Most of your insecurities melt away when it comes to him, because he doesn’t just make you feel adored, he makes you feel desired; the gleam in his eye is unmistakable whenever he looks at you.

He especially loves having you sit in his lap while he practices drumming, your back pressed against his chest as his arms move around you, drumsticks tapping away while his hands occasionally drift from the kit just to squeeze at your hips or rest over your stomach. He swears you help to keep him focused, his muse, but really, he just likes any excuse to keep you close.

He’s also your biggest hype man, encouraging you to wear the outfit you were too shy to put on. He loves when you dress up, whether it’s for a show or a date, because it gives him another excuse to show you off.

Noah’s biggest cliché is that he loves having something to grab onto. Whether it’s your stomach, your thighs, or your ass, he loves touching you all over. It feels almost like worship, the way he notices every little thing, his own quiet devotion slipping through in soft murmurs before he starts complimenting everything he loves about you on those harder days, when you feel wrong inside your body, too much, wishing you could somehow shrink away. On those days, he usually just holds you tighter.

While he normally loves feeling the weight of you on him, his fingers soft against your stretch marks with every tracing touch, there are moments where he’ll practically squish you beneath his own body instead, wrapping himself around you just to make you feel as small and protected as you want. His endless devotion for you even extends to sizing up in shirts or hoodies if he has to, simply so the two of you can share them comfortably.

On top of this, there’s no bigger sign that he’s a thighs man when it comes to you than the way he constantly begs to bury his head between them. He doesn’t care if you’re worried about being ‘too heavy’, if he asks you to sit on his face, he means it. Let the man die doing what he loves.

There’s no doubt that Nicholas adores you. Between his sweet words of affirmation and the countless ways he makes you feel wanted and desired, he has a talent for loving you loudly, especially on the days when you’re struggling the most. He’ll sit and listen to you, soft and patient, saying all the right things until you finally start to believe them too, giving you that little boost of confidence you’d been searching for.

It doesn’t matter whether you’re alone together or surrounded by other people, he always seems to want you in his lap, his face buried against your chest or his head resting there like it’s second nature. You’ve teased him about it more times than you can count, but he never denies that it’s one of his favourite things about you, among many others.

Jolly has a way of making your confidence skyrocket with even the most casual touches, knowing exactly how to brush his hand against you, guide you closer, or lean in with the kind of kiss that leaves you flustered and your stomach full of butterflies.

There’s something effortless about the way he makes you feel desired, like it’s the most natural thing in the world for him to look at you with that much admiration. He’ll even go out of his way to buy clothes he wants to see you in, pieces he knows would look incredible on you, always requesting a little fashion show afterward, just so he can sit back and bask in your beauty while complimenting every one of his favourite details.

Most nights, you’re paralyzed by fear, unable to fight back as he approaches you. Your body refuses to move, trapped in a state of helplessness as the dark slits of the veil that partially cover his face seem to swallow any semblance of light which reaches them, devoid of any life, a black hole. You can’t see his eyes, but you can feel their piercing gaze boring into your soul as you lie helplessly in the middle of your bed, forced to witness the demon who torments your peaceful sleep.

You can never tell if you’re awake or asleep during these moments. What you’re seeing can’t be real, yet each time he draws closer, each time he takes that step further to taunt you, you realize how real he is. The way his cool, long fingers caress your cheek, the hiss dissipating into a hushed sound, an attempt to calm you, only intensifies your sense that he derives pleasure from your fear, despite its attempts to soothe you.

Tonight, you’re ready for him. As he approaches, you feel the sensation returning to your fingertips, causing you to wriggle them. Your limbs slowly awaken, and while you may now be awake, he’s still here—the demon who taunts you nightly.

He stands in full display, wearing loose pants and a long black cloak covered only by half a decorative face mask. Upon closer inspection, you realize it’s his face, along with his mouth, and a serpent’s tongue that slips out. There’s no actual sign of humanity outside his physique.

However, as your eyes drift lower, you can’t help but be drawn to the appendage between his thighs, the one that hangs freely. It’s the one you’ve seen bulging occasionally. This is how you know he thrives on your fear. You see it twitch as he approaches you and stands there as that forbidding creature in your presence.

The moment he’s close enough, you discreetly slip your hand from beneath the covers. His expression changes, and the realization dawns on him that you’re free, even under his watchful gaze and his hold on you. Instinctively, you reach out to him, your fingers grasping at the waistband of his pants and pulling him towards you.

If you can’t drown your demons, you might as well fuck ‘em.

Feeling daring, you sink a hand down past his waistband and wrap your fingers around him. You feel the hardness and length of him pulsing within your grasp. The sound he emits is somewhere between a growl and a groan, and his hips are already thrusting into your touch. You’re about to quip about him being a sex demon, but when you catch the faint glint of sharp teeth as his lips part, you think better than to taunt him in return.

He follows your lead, allowing you to guide him between your thighs as you scramble to push the covers free from your body. Everything is you leading the way until there’s nothing between you, and you feel the way he sinks into you, your arousal evident.

Squeezing him tight and pulling him deeper, your head falls back. The pulsing you felt in your hand now extends to inside you, causing a rush of heat. It’s overwhelming, both the size and feel of him. You almost swear he’s growing bigger inside you, but you’re not given the chance to decide before he starts thrusting. It knocks the breath out of you, quick and harsh, driving forth and deep into you. You try to find somewhere on him to cling to; his cloak, his sides, your nails raking down his chest as soft squeaks escape your lips instead of moans.

When your head falls back, you’re instantly overwhelmed by a surge of pleasure. His hips snap against you relentlessly, driving into you repeatedly. His grip on your skin is almost scalding, pinning you in place. For a fleeting moment, you catch a glimpse of something behind your eyes before you find yourself watching a compilation of yourself, as if viewing through his eyes various scenarios. His arousal isn’t limited to your fear; it’s to specific things.

He speaks to you in flashes, sharing vivid memories of your nightmares. He showcases you thrashing and gasping silently in fear, rousing with sweat on your brow and a faint gasp escaping your lips. But his favorite moment, the one he plays to you on repeat, is the way you whimper, both when you’re asleep and awake, whenever you’re taunted by him. He revels in the sound of your silent pleas, the desire for escape.

• PervyGhost!Vessel who makes suggestive comments from somewhere you can’t see him: “Those shorts again? Cruel thing.”

• PervyGhost!Vessel who appears while you’re showering just to sit nearby, letting you see steam curl through his form so you know he’s there.

• PervyGhost!Vessel who is very into the idea of corruption through persistence.

• PervyGhost!Vessel who touches you while you’re asleep, seeing how wet he can make you without fully waking you.

• PervyGhost!Vessel who becomes addicted to being acknowledged physically. Once you start touching him willingly, he gets bad. “I need you to touch me. Let me use your hands and show you where I crave your touch.”

• PervyGhost!Vessel who has zero shame about watching you do anything. None. He’s dead, so social etiquette no longer applies to him.

• PervyGhost!Vessel who crowds your space on purpose.

• PervyGhost!Vessel who is deeply inappropriate with complete confidence. If you tell him he’s disgusting, he’ll just grin.

• PervyGhost!Vessel who loves trapping you physically without technically touching you. Appearing between your legs, looming over your shoulder, or caging you against counters with spectral arms.

• PervyGhost!Vessel who would rather wear you down than let you cum. He wants you unraveling, breathless and overwhelmed. “You look lovely like this… all undone and begging for me to give you release.”

• PervyGhost!Vessel who will haunt your dreams on purpose once he realizes he can.

• PervyGhost!Vessel who loves sitting invisibly beside you while you’re talking to someone else, whispering degrading little comments only you can hear.

• PervyGhost!Vessel who startles you on purpose because he feeds off the spike of emotion. Fear, embarrassment, arousal. It doesn’t matter much to him.

• PervyGhost!Vessel who uses the cold sensation of his touch to overstimulation your clit until you’re nearly too sensitive to touch.

You’re folded in his lap, knees pushed up to your chest, thighs spread and presented like a gift—a perfect little fucktoy for iii to use. Your hole clenches around nothing, empty and needy at the teasing contact of iii’s cock as he spreads his saliva against you, mixing it with your own wetness and the spurt of lube he’d previously added.

That’s the only preparation you’re given before you feel it, the slow, steady press of his cock into you, making you gasp and squeak with the burning stretch. Reaching for him in an attempt to find purchase, your nails rake across his shoulders before dragging down the expanse of his back. Around him, your walls flutter, squeezing and dragging him deeper, and the second he bottoms out inside you, he chokes out a groan.

“How does it feel, hmm?” Behind you, a smirk spreads across iv’s lips as he watches, admiring the pretty sight before him. “Nice and tight?” He presses, and all iii can manage is a grunt that follows the snap of his hips as he draws back just enough to sink into you again.

“So fucking… fuck…” he breathes, the second you squeeze around him. Your walls hug him tight, but the added slickness from his saliva makes it easy for him to drag back, hips snapping forward and driving deeply, repeatedly, the sound of your gasps and whimpers encouraging him.

“Such a pretty little toy,” he sneers, darkened eyes peering up from beneath hooded lids, looking past you to iv over your shoulder. “I think we should make a nice mess of it together, see how much we can fill it.”

“I bet that’s a hole that could handle a lot,” iv remarks, his hard cock pressed against you, twitching. “Making the prettiest sounds, too.”

There’s a low hum of contemplation in his tone, eyes wandering down along your body before he slips a hand from the back of your thigh, traveling over it toward your stomach. His touch causes heat to spread through you, more rapid than the one driven by iii’s cock pounding into you. As his fingers graze higher, to your chest, he pauses to tease at your nipples, pinching and twiddling them between his forefinger and thumb, eliciting more sounds from you.

“Wonder what else this pretty mouth can do,” iv muses, the moment his fingers move higher, teasing at your lips before pushing past them. The pads glide over the surface of your tongue, pressing toward the back of your throat until you gag, drool gathering at either side of the digits invading your mouth. He keeps them there, forcing you to audibly gag and choke around them, a sound that is easily music to both their ears. 

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Vessel loves his little dove. He loves that she is tiny compared to him, and soft, and sweet. But, most of all he loves how trusting and oblivious she can be. That was the case when he found her door unlocked one night, entering her home like he owned it, and found his girl asleep on the sofa. She looked so soft, so delicate, so peaceful.

As he approached a soft smile crept onto his face. Her legs were bare, and she seemed comfortable wrapped up in a warm looking hoodie.

A reasonable caring man would drape a blanket over her or maybe even wake her and take her to bed, but not Vessel. Gently he lowered himself onto the sofa by her feet, careful not to wake her.

He started slow, rubbing a hand over her calves, feeing her soft skin. Then, his hands crept higher. He brushed a gentle hand over her thighs, as if testing the waters.

"Love," he murmurs, trying to gauge the depth of her sleep. "Are you awake?"

When he receives no response he continues to let his hands wander, brushing up under the hoodie. He can feel how warm her skin is there, his hands cold in contrast. Pleased when he finds nothing beneath the hoodie he skims his hands up her ribs and finds her breasts.

The chill of his hands causes her nipples to pebble and he lets out a pleased hum in response. He rucks the hoodie up over her chest, exposing her to the cold air.

He gently parts her thighs, so he can shove her panties down before he slots himself between them. He plants wet open-mouthed kisses along her neck as he grinds his clothed erection against her sensitive folds. He relishes in the way her brows furrow and her breath hitches in her sleep every time he presses against her clit.

“Pretty little dove…” He murmurs against her skin. Her reactions spurring him on.

He shoves his sweats and boxers down just enough to free his leaking cock and he lets a shaky groan as it settles against her wetness.

He crudely spits into his own palm, stroking over his cock to make it slick before gently he guides himself into her fluttering cunt. He has to bite his lip to bite back a moan. He pushes in slowly, not wanting to rouse his little love from her sleep.

When he begins to rock his hips he can hear the little whimpers as they spill past her lips and feel the way her body twitches, responding to the pleasure. He ruts into her like he owns her, taking what he needs from her body.

He’s so close when she opens her eyes with a confused expression “Vessel…?” Her voice comes out soft, hushed. She knew him, had been seeing him for months.

“Shh love…just let me use you…let me make you feel good”

He slides a hand between their bodies and his fingers find her clit, rubbing tight little circles around it as he fucks into her harder now.

“O-Oh god!” She squeals. Vessel groans as he feels her squeeze his cock.

“That’s it darling, cum for me…be a good little dove.”

That has her shaking beneath him and her cunt clamping down onto his cock.

“Oh good girl..” He praises happily “felt so good, didn’t it baby?”

He keeps thrusting until he shudders and spills inside her. With a shaky breath he collapses against her, savoring her heat.

Eventually, he pulls out and presses soft little kisses to her face “C’mon love, let’s get you cleaned up and in bed. I promise I’ll let you sleep this time.” He whispers sweetly as he gathers her up in his arms and carries her to bed. She lets him, too tired to fight and finding she actually enjoyed his embrace.