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phoenixkaptain · 2 years

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Currently obsessed with the idea of Anakin being a virgin yet having the most calm reaction towards sex.

Like, I’m picturing that people have asked him to have sex with them, and he’s always said no, no matter where he is, what he’s doing, or who he’s with, he always says no. But, he isn’t blushing or flustered or anything like that, he somehow always manages to gently tell people no and send them on their way with no hard feelings, and he doesn’t treat people who ask him for sex different afterwards, even friends, so everyone just assumes that he has had sex, or that he has sex often enough that he doesn’t want anymore.

Imagining this because it is incredibly funny (read: horribly depressing) to imagine that Anakin doesn’t really want to have sex because he grew up on Tatooine as a slave, so he kind of views it as a forceful thing, but when he came to Coruscant, Obi-Wan or someone else told him (as awkwardly and uncomfortably as is humanly imaginable) that sex is something some people do just for fun, but that Anakin can always say no, and he can say no to more than just sex, he can say no to any activity he’s uncomfortable with, and Anakin took this to heart and now views sex as, like, equivalent to sparring, but he just is never in the mood (and he doesn’t know what “the mood” means???) so he always says no when people ask.

But, he was on Tatooine long enough to pick up the idea of Angels on Iego’s moons, he definitely picked up how some people would say no to sex so calmly that it created no hard feelings, and since he views sex as just one of those things that happens to some people, he wants there to be no hard feelings, so he channels that energy as much as possible because he doesn’t want his friends to feel awkward around him just because (as he understands it) they like how he looks.

Imagining that he got married to Padme and he is completely cool with naked cuddling or naked walking around or naked anything, but it has been months and he still hasn’t asked for sex, and Padme is like “Ani, I’m not disappointed, but are you asexual?” because she’s so confused. And Anakin is just “What’s an asexual?”

Padme: “Asexual people don’t want to have sex with other people.”

Anakin: “I don’t think I’m that. I just don’t want to have sex with people.”

Padme: “That is literally the exact definition I just gave you.”

Anakin: “I suppose I’ve been curious, a few times, I just can’t imagine having sex when you can just spar if you want to get all sweaty.”

Padme: “??? There are other reasons to have sex?”

Anakin: “Yeah, I know, it’s fun or whatever, I just think running around the galactic senate building three hundred times is more fun, y’know?”

Padme: “I must concede defeat, I don’t know what we’re talking about anymore.”

I just want Anakin to have the healthiest view of sex that it is humanly possible to have, but I also want him to be the biggest dumbass in the galaxy. I want him to be the least horny himbo in the galaxy. I want him to accidentally start thinking about sex as, like, stretching that requires a partner.

Padme: “Would you feel comfortable having sex with anybody?”

Anakin: “Obi-Wan normally helps me with new exercizes.”

Padme: “I’ll call Obi-Wan.”

And then a three hour discussion of Padme and Obi-Wan trying to explain to Anakin that sex is something some people view as sacred and Anakin just tilts his head and is like “But both of you have had sex before,” and it isn’t a question but they both get very flustered because, yes, but, shut up. And Anakin is just “Master Yoda doesn’t have sex. Master Yoda is pretty cool.”

Padme: “That doesn’t really have anything to do with this discussion.”

(Padme and Obi-Wan: horrifying imagery of Yoda having sex, 2 dead, fifteen thousand injured)

Anakin: “Maybe not having sex is what makes Yoda wise, have we considered that?”

Obi-Wan: “Please stop talking about whether or not Yoda fucks-“

I dunno, I just want himbo Anakin, you feel me?

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driftward · 2 months

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Title: Bitey Characters: Zoissette Vauban, Y'shtola Rhul Summary: Y'shtola and her Warrior of Light, Zoissette Vauban, enjoy an evening of light enjoyable sex. They discover a few things about one another along the way. Notes: This one's for Femslash February. I'm doing my part! Content warning: explicit sex

Zoissette and Y’shtola arrived home after a pleasant day had wound down to a pleasant afternoon and now promised a pleasant evening. They had books to read, research to perform, calculations to make, and experiments to run, but as they had walked home, their conversation had turned from each other’s interests, and more towards their interest in one another. By the time the door had opened, their conversation had contained less and less innuendo and more and more outright propositions of what they had in mind for the evening’s activities, and even as the door shut, Zoissette was already taking the lead, pushing Y’shtola towards the bedroom.

“Well, now, aren’t we eager,” said Y’shtola coquettishly, her tail slowly swaying back and forth as she found the back of her legs pressed against the footrest of the bed. “I could have swore I heard you making promises that you were going to take your time with me today.”

“That was over half a bell ago,” said Zoissette as she took off her glasses and threw them in the general direction of a chair in the corner. “Before someone made me blush by pulling me down to their mouth and whispering the most perverse filth in my ear while they nibbled on it.”

Y’shtola smiled and shrugged in a manner that was not at all apologetic as Zoissette kneeled down, reaching up under her skirts and beginning to work free one of her thigh high boots. She put her hands on the footrest and leaned back, sticking her leg out straight to help Zoissette get the boot off.

Zoissette struggled for a bit, and made a slightly complain-y whimpering noise in the back of her throat before sweeping Y’shtola’s skirts up and disappearing under them. Y’shtola just smiled down at the sight of her lover mostly hidden from view, and relaxed, as she felt the first boot come loose and watched as it was quickly discarded. The other boot was halfway off and soon to follow its sibling when she felt little wet kisses on the inside of her thigh. She swallowed a deep gulp of air as she felt her breathing quicken and her body warm to the touch as the kisses continued, traveling up the inside of one thigh before a pause, notably passing by her quim to travel down the inside of the other thigh.

“Tease,” said Y’shtola. And she laughed as Zoissette took a moment to give her a wet, not-at-all sexy lick on her leg.

“I suppose I deserve that,” she said, as Zoissette untangled herself from her skirts and looked up at her. A hungry smile was on Zoissette’s face, and her eyes were very open as she stood, sweeping over Y’shtola’s frame. She put a hand in the middle of Y’shtola’s chest, and with the gentlest of pushes, shoved her onto her back. Y’shtola allowed it, helped it along even, as she shoved her feet off the footrest, moving herself to be fully on the bed.

Zoissette followed after, pausing only to pick her up and move her even further towards the headrest, to make space for herself. One of Zoissette’s knees pushed between her legs, and Y’shtola opened them slightly, allowing Zoissette in. She could feel the other woman’s hips, unfairly separated from her by several layers of clothing.

Zoissette’s breathing was deep and throaty, now. She was up, over Y’shtola, sitting on her knees, eyes transfixed on Y’shtola’s face as she began unfastening her tunic. Her fingers were quick as she pulled the tunic up and over her head, letting it land on the ground to the side of the bed, leaving her top exposed save for a bra. That, she ignored, in favor of hurriedly unbuckling her pants.

Y’shtola simply lay on the bed, propping herself up a bit on her elbows to watch, the warmth of a smile spreading across her face at the sight. Zoissette was not putting on a show, and in fact, seemed to be in a great hurry, but that was part of the appeal. To see such hunger in the other woman. Watching as clothes were discarded and flesh revealed. Admiring the gentle brown of her skin as it shifted and moved over toned muscle. Taking in a breath as Zoissette turned around and hopped off the bed to remove her pants the rest of the way, and seeing the corded muscles in her shoulders and back as she moved.

Zoissette was not the stereotypical graceful and lithe Elezen beauty, but she was beautiful. Y’shtola found her to be a work of art, a study in motion, an expression of power, so restrained in its movements, unbounded in its depths.

Y’shtola was going to climb her like a tree one of these days.

But not today. Zoissette was at last in the nude, bra and smalls finally as discarded as the rest of her clothes. Y’shtola had not made any movement towards removing her own clothes.

She was curious to find out where Zoissette would take this moment, if given the opportunity.

Zoissette turned to face her again, and Y’shtola watched as her tongue slowly eased out to lick lick her lips every so slightly, with a hint of nervousness, if she judged the other woman correctly.

Zoissette bit her lip as her eyes traced up and down Y’shtola’s body, and she put her hands behind her back. Perhaps thinking of what to say.

“…will you do as I say,” she said, more than asked, but it was definitely a question.

Y’shtola was surprised, both at Zoissette’s forwardness, and at a deep feeling in herself, of being secretly pleased. She marveled at that, but not for too long. She was not to be disappointed this day.

“I will, and more,” said Y’shtola, smiling, giving in to the feeling. “I am at your mercy, wholly.”

Y’shtola watched as Zoissette’s hands came forward from behind her back, her fingers trembling ever so slightly. The woman’s chest rose and fell with the depth of her breathing. She was still afraid of herself, still afraid of being too much, but Y’shtola was patient, and she knew that patience would reap such rewards as were deserved. Zoissette placed her hands on the top of the footrest, leaning forward ever so slightly, her eyes locked deeply onto Y’shtola’s face.

“Undress for me,” Zoissette said, her voice quiet.

There was a lot that could be read into those words, and much room for interpretation. Y’shtola watched Zoissette’s face as she rose up from the bed, twisting to come up on her knees and facing the other woman. She reached behind herself slowly to undo the clasp in between her shoulders on the back of her dress, making sure that it would make a loud and satisfying click as it released. She rolled her shoulders slowly, one at a time, to tease the dress down just a bit. Not enough for it to let go, though. Not just yet.

Not until she reached up, placing both hands on the clasp that was around her neck. Placing her fingers along its circumference, slowly tracing a finger around its edge. Not until she held it daintily between both of her hands. Nor even until she firmly pushed a thumb into the back of it. And it did not release as she paused there, and she saw Zoissette swallow. It was only then when she made a quick snap gesture with her fingers that it let go, and she pulled it free, undoing her collar and lifting her arms slowly, exaggeratedly, releasing the top of her dress, undoing its restraints, and, as a last, let her arms down. Her dress did not fall of its own accord, of course. In this, she helped it along, pulling her arms free of her sleeves and pulling her dress down to be around her waist. Her breasts were still bound by her black bra with its criss-cross lines across the center of her chest, but she could get to that in a moment.

For now, she exulted in the rapturous expression on Zoissette’s face, and gave her a slow lascivious wink as she slowly leaned back, pulling her elbows to be behind her if only to push her chest out, if only to show off her breasts prominently, restrained though they were. She continued the motion until she fell onto her back on the bed, and kicked her hips up and her legs out, hooking her hands into the top of her dress, and she curled up, upside-down, as she pushed the dress off, and with a kick of a leg, sent it off to the side.

She was moving a bit faster, now. The theatrics she had put on with the top half of her dress would simply not do for the bottom half, for as she was, she could not watch Zoissette anymore while she undressed herself, and that just wasn’t as much fun.

She settled in, and let her waist and legs down so she could lie on her back, mostly exposed. She still had her bra and her smalls, easy enough problems to be rid of. And more importantly, now she could watch Zoissette again.

The woman had not moved, but her expression was one of wide eyed wonderment, and a quick glance showed that her fingers were pressing tightly into the edge of the footboard she was still holding onto.

Y’shtola propped herself on her elbows once more, hooking her thumbs into the sides of her smalls, and wiggled her hips slowly and seductively as she drew them down her legs, playing at having them caught up around her knees, before pulling one leg free of them, and letting them slowly slide down the other. She used her toes to pinch them, and stretched a leg out to Zoissette, offering them to her.

Zoissette stared stupidly at Y’shtola’s smalls before slowly reaching up and taking them from her, bunching them up in her fist as Y’shtola slowly pulled her leg back, lowering her foot to land a mere fulm away from her ass, but off to one side. She placed her other foot opposite, knees bent but slightly apart, exposing her quim.

Zoissette was transfixed. Y’shtola tilted her head at her, and chuckled at the fact that the other woman seemed full hypnotised. She decided to stop teasing, and reached behind herself to undo her bra, quickly taking it off and playfully flicking it at Zoissette’s head. Zoissette grabbed it with her free hand, and now her hands her both full. Y’shtola’s smalls in one hand, and her bra in the other. She looked back and forth between them and Y’shtola, before shaking her head clear. They were dropped, abandoned to the floor as Zoissette climbed up the foot of the bed and dropped herself above Y’shtola on all fours. Her mouth went to Y’shtola’s, and their lips met, and Y’shtola thrilled inside, feeling almost as though levin was passing between them through their tongues.

Zoissette pulled back, and just looked down at Y’shtola for a long moment, her gaze tracing up and down her body, before letting her eyes rest on one of her hands. She reached out and picked up Y’shtola’s hand by the wrist, turning it, and then pinning it next to her head.

Y’shtola made a murr noise in appreciation.

“Stay still,” commanded Zoissette, and Y’shtola stilled. Zoissette leaned in, and planted a gentle kiss on her chin, and, still pinning Y’shtola’s hand to the bed, moved downward, little kisses along her neck, down her chest, down the curve of a breast, tickled around an areola, before Zoissette opened her mouth and took the tip of her breast into her lips, and pulled it slightly into her mouth. Not letting go, she slowly lapped her tongue across the nipple, and Y’shtola shuddered at the sensation.

Encouraged, Zoissette shifted her weight to pin Y’shtola’s hand more firmly to the bed, and increased the pace at which she attacked her breast, her lips playing around the areola and her tongue exploring the tip, licking it, swirling around it, being flicked across the top of it. Y’shtola made a whimpering noise as she fought to stay still as she had been commanded, straining against her instincts, but wanting to rise up, to meet the other woman, to press their bodies closer together, to say physically what words would not, I’m yours I’m yours I’m yours.

She almost succeeded, but not quite, and she arched her back a little, pressing her breast into Zoissette’s mouth. Zoissette enjoyed her for a moment or two longer before pulling back, and using her forehead to push Y’shtola back down.

“Stay still,” she commanded again. Y’shtola sniffed, but obeyed, settling back down into the bed.

Zoissette held her down for a long moment, just watching and waiting. Y’shtola flicked an ear in frustration, and bit her lip, her breathing heavy. Once Zoissette was satisfied, however, she leaned back down, and turned her attention to Y’shtola’s other breast. At the same time, she shifted her weight so that her one hand would continue to pin Y’shtola’s hand to the bed, but freeing her other hand to wander down, and at last, she began to provide attention to Y’shtola’s quim, sliding a finger against her slit.

She started again, slower this time, the movement of her finger up and down in time with the movements of her tongue against Y’shtola’s nipple. Y’shtola sucked in a deep breath with each movement, but this time succeeded in resisting the urge to move.

Well, she may have squirmed a little.

But she was apparently still enough to satisfy Zoissette, being as she felt one of the Elezen’s long fingers push into her. As she did so, she pulled away from Y’shtola’s breast, and the two women were looking into one another’s faces. Zoissette’s eyes were still wide with wonder, as though Y’shtola was her entire world, and Y’shtola felt her heart fair soar.

She also felt her quim quiver as Zoissette’s finger found its way deep, and she felt it curl inside of her, pushing against that sweet spot she had found there.

“Still,” said Zoissette, and Y’shtola bit her lip hard, just shy of breaking skin. The Elezen continued, her motions measured and careful but strong. She was aware of Zoissette watching her face carefully as she explored her, eventually building up to a second finger as Y’shtola responded, flowing with the pressure building inside of her. She continued, her fingers eventually making a ‘come hither’ gesture inside of her, and Y’shtola felt as though levin arcs were fit to light her spine, and she felt the swell of the warm rolling sensation form in her belly. And yet Zoissette continued, one hand pinning Y’shtola’s arm to the bed, her other ministrating to what was rapidly becoming a need, but Y’shtola obeyed, staying as still as she could. Her breath quickened and her heart raced, until she felt that all she could hear was thunder.

Her sight was unfocused, but she was still aware of Zoissette leaning closer to her, she could feel Zoissette’s breath on her ear, and despite the, well, everything of the moment, she could hear Zoissette’s voice as she whispered.

“Release.”

And then the storm crashed, and she gasped out, as the first roil of pleasure rolled through her body. Zoissette continued to hold her one hand pinned down, and she let out several gasps in succession as she squirmed. She used her one free arm to reach up and embrace the Elezen, to dig her fingers into her back as her legs quivered, her back arched, and she did not yell so much as she gasped “SETTE!” loudly.

She tried to focus, to find Zoissette’s face, but the Elezen did not let up. Instead she heard Zoissette’s voice as she crooned, “Again, if you please,” and she felt what must have been Zoissette’s thumb teasing against her clit. She gave up and clenched her eyes closed as the roll of her first orgasm travelled back down her body, and met a new wave coming up, and she came again, even more loudly, no longer even trying to form coherent words. She tried to wrap her legs around Zoissette, but the other woman was just so much taller and on her hands and knees was so much further away than she thought she should be, even though she was unfairly close enough to reach both Y’shtola’s wrist and her quim at the same time. The other woman’s movements did not let up, and Y’shtola gasped loudly again as the next wave roiled through her.

Zoissette’s fingers at last stilled, still inside of her but no longer rhythmically pressing against her. Y’shtola panted, feeling her chest heaving, and secretly glad for the moment to catch her breath, to remember her mind, to come back to herself. She rolled her eyes behind her eyelids before opening them, and forced her sight to focus. As the world came into view, she could see Zoissette’s expression, clearly pleased, but also studying Y’shtola, looking intently at her neck. Y’shtola reached with her free hand to caress Zoissette’s face, and Zoissette rewarded her with a soft smile, as she slowly leaned closer.

Sensing where this might be going, Y’shtola turned her head, to leave her neck exposed to the Elezen. She felt lips first, along that tendon that went from her neck to her shoulder, and then she felt teeth, and Y’shtola found herself deep in the storm once more, and she bucked her hips against Zoissette’s hand at the same time she let out a happy wanton moan.

Suddenly, however, Zoissette was pulling away, her fingers quickly leaving Y’shtola, her hand coming off her wrist. The moment was so sudden that Y’shtola found herself momentarily disoriented, and she looked to Zoissette to see the woman in clear distress.

“Oh gods Shtola I’m so sorry I don’t know what came over me are you hurt please tell me I didn’t hurt you-“

“Zoissette, whatever is the matter,” said Y’shtola quickly, feeling a bit panicked herself as she pushed herself up onto her elbows, looking at Zoissette, bewildered.

“I - I bit you. I’m so sorry I don’t know why I did that.”

Zoissette looked terrified, and the words that she had said took a moment to register. She was already pushing herself away, moving away, and Y’shtola barely just managed to reach out and grab her before she was too far.

Zoissette stopped, and stilled, and looked away. “I - I didn’t mean to. I mean, I did, but I didn’t, uhm, did not even think about it until I was already doing it, I just - I did not even think about how I could hurt you, and oh gods I’m so sorry-“

Y’shtola interrupted Zoissette in what was rapidly becoming her favorite way to do so. She wrapped both hands around the Elezen’s head, and pulled her in tight for a deep and passionate kiss, holding it long enough for what was happening to register to Zoissette, long enough that the Elezen did not push further away but instead relaxed into it. She felt the tension bleed away, and when she was satisfied, she released her.

Zoissette looked at her, mollified but confused. “…Shtola?” she asked.

Y’shtola smiled at her, wickedly, and brought her mouth up to Zoissette’s ear, and whispered into it.

“I am at your mercy, wholly,” she murmured throatily. “And I throw myself upon it as I ask you to do that again-”

She relaxed back into the bed, still under Zoissette, looking up at her. She slowly angled her head away, fully exposing her neck, making sure there was ample room for her lover.

“But harder.”

Zoissette swallowed nervously, but she moved in, slowly. Y’shtola could see Zoissette’s eyes transfixed on her, but she did not move, even when the Elezen’s head disappeared out of her sight. She stayed still until she felt teeth on her neck again, and she rubbed the inside of her forearm against Zoissette’s body encouragingly.

And then the force came down, and Y’shtola exulted in it, crying out, feeling her tail wrap around one of Zoissette’s legs. She once more clawed fingers into Zoissette, pulling her closer, pulling the other woman’s full weight on top of her, crushed beneath her.

And her delicate tendon, crushed between Zoissette’s teeth. Her breath came quick, now, and she cried out with every inhale, holding on to her lover for all that she was worth. She pushed one leg between Zoissette’s legs, and silently part of her cursed the difference in height between the two. It was an awkward angle, but still, she pressed anyway, hoping to drive some friction into Zoissette’s quim, and thus return a fraction of all the favors that had been bestowed upon her thus far.

Zoissette’s teeth at last left her neck, and Y’shtola let out one last gasp, and made sure to follow it with a soft, happy crooning noise. Zoissette pushed away from her again, getting on hands and knees, and looked down at Y’shtola.

Y’shtola smiled up at her softly.

“What further would you have of me?” she asked.

Zoissette looked away, turning her head down towards the foot of the bed, then looked back up.

“That - that was a lot. I’m still - I am feeling a lot of things right now and it’s very confusing. Is it - is it okay if I just - I just want - I just want your warmth right now. I, uhm - will you hold me for a bit? Is that okay?”

Y’shtola smiled up at her, and spread her arms open to catch Zoissette in her embrace.

“Quite alright, my beloved. We can talk when you find yourself able.”

Zoissette nodded, and Y’shtola could see the tension leave her. She slowly lowered herself into Y’shtola’s arms, and lay on top of her, and this was its own pleasant sensation. Zoissette was much larger than she was, and was all toned muscle and broad shoulders and mass, and though she was not heavy enough to push the breath out of Y’shtola, she was heavy enough to give the sensation of obvious weight with every breath.

“I love being beneath you like this, feeling your strength in my arms, feeling your weight against my chest. I fair feel as though I am almost a part of you like this,” said Y’shtola, rubbing Zoissette’s back. “Rest, my warrior, rest, and worry no more.”

“…thank you,” said Zoissette. And then, “I love you.”

“And I, you.” said Y’shtola.

The two grew quiet, and Y’shtola knew it could be some time before Zoissette had anything else to say, but that was well. Patience with the warrior of light was always well rewarded, and Y’shtola decided that the reward was worth that and more.

#final fantasy xiv #y'shtola rhul #zoissette vauban #y'shtola x zoissette #zoishtola #witchshield #biot writes #cw: sex #femslash february

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marshmallowsqoosh · 1 year

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[Sleep Token (Band) | Half Blind (WIP)]

I started this a while ago to deal with some life things but... I’m not entirely sure I’m gonna finish it? Anyways, here’s a 2k porn with plot/feels set up that I may or may not finish but I desperately wanted to say thank you to the Sleep Token fandom for being so lovely I’m just a really slow writer and life keeps Life’ing [sob]

Fandom: Sleep Token Title: Half Blind Rating: will eventually be Mature; this is mostly just 16+ CW: Concert shenanigans that lead to sex back at the hotel Lesser Warnings: Altered Physical State (Sleep gives His vessels gifts that cause mutations that they can mostly usually hide; II has multiple limbs and chelicerea (do not google that if you have arachnophobia, it’s a spider’s jaw), Sleep is chill/supportive, Sleep is an eldritch horror that exists in an alternate plane of existence and manifests as tentacles to His vessels, Vessel is Sleep’s host, Not Beta’d, Incomplete

Summary: This is 2000% just my excuse to write III being a little bit of a brat and Vessel being exasperated with him. (aka my bestest enabler sent me a video of Granite live and III yelling Give it to me! right before the breakdown and it did things to me)

extras. Status: incomplete word count. ~1997

Give it to me!

One of the simplest collection of words. They stick to Vessel for the rest of the performance—well after they've closed out and returned to the hotel. He genuinely wants nothing more than to drag III back to their room—suddenly understands why they doubled up instead of all four of them just sharing a room—but II stops him, making sleepy, half-hearted grabby hands at his back.

"Ves… sleepy kiss." II's barely standing. IV catches him by putting a hand on his shoulder when he sways and Vessel just sighs. It… was a more intense worship than usual. The crowds are growing, the stage is growing but it's still suffocating and hot in the flashing lights and too many bodies in a room.

He doesn't get a chance to confirm he hears the request, though; instead he's fighting down a pleased shudder and moan when III presses up to his back, dragging a hand up from the dip in his back to his shoulders with one hand, while his other arm hangs over Vessel's shoulder, mostly harmless.

Mostly, only because he's using it as an excuse to press his hand flat to Vessel's chest, fingers curling a little and tapping against the exposed flesh.

"Think we all earned sleepy kisses, yeah, Ves?"

He's grateful Sleep manifesting is enough to cover the small moan in his throat; the rift forming on his back always feels weird enough without III being flush against him… and then he just feels weirdly cold when the bassist backs up just enough that two of Sleep's appendages can wriggle out of their plane of existence, eagerly moving around Vessel so He can tap the tip of one tentacle, gently, to II's forehead before trailing down the the side of his face and resting on his cheek. The other one presents to IV, waiting for permission—permission eagerly granted, by IV extending the hand not keeping II steady on his feet—and coiling around the extended arm until the tip can press gently to IV's cheek in the same manner.

You all did so marvelous tonight.

Sleep's voice is always… stronger after performances. It makes Vessel's ears ring and his head pounds a little, like he's knocked back too many shots at once, and he squeezes his eyes shut against the sensation. He feels III's hands resting on his hips, thumbs tracing gentle patterns into his back to distract him without getting closer and trapping Sleep.

My apologies, Vessel. You all must be very tired; please, rest, my devoted. Rest and let your bodies and mind heal in the afterglow of worship.

It's only when he feels a gentle tap of one of Sleep's tentacles against his back that he even realises a third one had been coiled around III the entire time. II nearly falls forward, trying to follow as the tentacle withdraws and IV's turned his hand upright so that the one around his arm drags across his palm in the process of returning to Vessel. They both look pleased and more tired than they did a moment ago.

That extends to you and III, as well, Vessel. I know you wish to lavish your praise unto III, but do not neglect yourself. I would greatly prefer both of you in good health, come morning.

Not for the first time, Vessel finds himself grateful for his mask and keeping his hood drawn up, as he feels a flustered heat spread up from his neck to the tips of his ears and try to move across his cheeks. He manages to catch III by the wrist before he gets too far away, hastily clearing his throat and hoping he doesn't sound like he's in too much of a hurry.

"Sleep extends His wishes for rest once more. We'll see you both in the morning. A word, first, if you don't mind, III."

He can tell the bassist is grinning at his back and can see him waving at the other two as he's pulled along. He doesn't bother looking back to see if II and IV go to their room or even really try to remember how close the rooms are. He knows their room and simply pulls III along until the door clicks shut and locked behind them.

♥

IV blinks, slowly, and lets his attention stray down to II after a long moment of simply standing in the hallway. II sways a little on his feet, clearly already asleep and starting to lose the ability to hide his Gifts from Sleep as he yawns, wide, behind his mask and the chelicerae try to stretch out and puncture through his mask. His robe flutters a little to accommodate the manifestation of more of his arms and that's what finally gets IV to pick him up so they can relocate before they get found out.

"Ves knows we know they're fuckin', right?" Maybe he's just missed something about the pair, but it's always odd that they try to cover up what they're doing when… he's pretty sure everyone knows.

"Let him have this, IV." II slumps over his shoulder, two arms over each shoulder and a third set, along with his legs, curled around the guitarist's torso like he's trying to become a koala. He still sounds pleased and mostly asleep. "It makes Ves feel better and honestly… I think III gets off on it."

That… does actually make sense. It would definitely explain some of his behaviour on stage—not Sugar. They all talked about that before it was officially implemented; but, the… relatively new desire to engage the crowd with what should be innocent enough rallying of the audience. Except everyone else on stage knows he's doing his absolute damnedest to get a rise out of Vessel—between trying to get him to laugh and keep him from being too anxious on stage, III's also taken to being a borderline menace, sometimes.

But, that's quickly the last thing on IV's mind, as he gently kicks the door to his and II's room shut and he realises whoever goes through the process of booking them rooms made a very pointed effort to put a few rooms between them and shuffled Vessel and III off to a corner where they hopefully won't disturb anyone. ... A gratitude sadly short-lived as his entire focus is soon on trying to figure out how he gets out of the trap of II having fallen asleep with a death grip around him and resigning himself, fairly quick, to the fact this is just going to be how he ends up sleeping tonight and trying to find a comfortable way to lie down.

♥

III laughs when Vessel pushes the door shut behind them and barely waits long enough for the man to ensure the door is locked before III pushes him against the door, hands on either side of his neck and fingers tapping a gentle rhythm against his jaw beneath the edge of his mask.

"A word, huh?" He feels a shudder go up his spine when Vessel's fingers slip under the bottom of his mask, pulling the fabric to pull III's face close enough that they're barely centimeters apart. A brush of lips against his just ends in a whine building in his throat as the mask stops him from seeking out more.

"Ves—"

"Patience." Vessel's voice is low. Even pushed against the door, he doesn't buckle under the whining and friction as III tries to get his way by pressing as close as he possibly can. He pulls at III's mask again, gentlylifting it off his head and making sure it's folded into his pocket before he runs his hands back through III's hair, mindful of his rings, even as he knots his fingers in the ends. "You've been… so patient already. Just a bit longer."

III's head tilts a little to follow the hands in his hair—a gentle pull, a pleasant sensation—and swallows, hard, when it exposes his throat. Vessel's mask is cold against flushed skin and he makes a pitched keening noise when he feels teeth graze the hollow of his neck and up over his Adam's apple.

"But—"

"On the bed." Vessel releases him and makes a gesture back towards the bed. It takes III a few seconds to get his bearings, to actually process the order. Vessel waits, patiently, even when III swears he hears the man stifling a laugh as the bassist nearly trips over himself in his attempt to turn and navigate the room. He starts to turn again, so he can sit, and ends up freezing when Vessel's suddenly at his back, breath warm on his neck and eliciting another shudder of anticipation. "Lie on your front for me."

He doesn't… really have a reason to argue. A selfish one, perhaps; but, not… really. He might be able to turn over later, so for now he simply obeys and carefully toes his shoes off without untying them—nudging them under the bed in the process—and crawls onto the bed, trying to center himself, and pulls a pillow under his chest as he lies down. Low enough he can kick his feet, a little, off the end of the bed. His attention perks a little bit when he sees Vessel set his mask on the room's desk and his robe is laid across its chair. The gentle clink of all of his necklaces being taken off and set on the desk, as well, is almost enough to lull III to sleep. Always something soothing watching Vessel shed his clothes, like peeling away the layers he used to hide himself from people, even when it was something as simple as his boots or jewelry.

Almost enough. He's alert again, the second Vessel crawls onto the bed over him, leaning down to kiss his shoulders and neck. III manages to reach back, fingers curling into Vessel's hair to hold him in place, a quiet moan escaping as he resists the urge to arch up into the singer's body.

"Ffffuck… c'mon, Ves. Said yourself I been patient, yeah? C'mon… give it to me." The words come out in a purr, still hopeful he'll get his way.

"You have been remarkably patient." Vessel's hand slips around III's neck, fingers curling gently to pull his head up and back, thumb pushing at his jaw, just enough to turn his head for a kiss without their masks in the way. A gentle kiss… that ends in Vessel biting at his lower lip—still gentle, but enough to jump all of III's senses—his voice lower than before. "And an absolute menace."

Okay, III might have been a little provocative on stage. On purpose. More than usual. Even during Sugar he may have dragged Vessel's hips against his a bit harder than they normally were, desperate for even a little bit of attention that he hasn't been able to get the past few nights.

Needy.

Vessel releases him and pries, carefully, at III's hand so he releases Vessel, too, and pushes his hand flat to the bed. Both of Vessel's cover III's and he carefully rearranges himself so he's sitting across the small of III's back, pushing him into the mattress and pinning him there, in the process. III whines, desperately, and just does his best not to squirm and draw this out more than he knows it's going to be. A difficult enough task with how much he wants Vessel on a normal day… a few days of nothing but the touches on stage and just being able to feel Vessel's arousal through his jeans, just above III's waistband…

He manages to twist his fingers with Vessel's, the way his hands are covered, and tries to breathe a little slower, a little deeper, to keep from begging. He might be regretting letting his feet dangle, now that he can't get purchase to try wriggling himself free—well. He could. But it'd be easier if he were on the bed proper.

#Sleep Token #sleep token fanfic #vessel/III #sqooshy writes #vessel sleep token #iii sleep token #sleep sleep token #ii sleep token #iv sleep token #Rating: Teen #cw: sex #fic wip

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queer-advice-hotline · 3 months

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CW: talk of genitals and sex

Please feel free to disregard if you are uncomfortable with answering /gen

I'm bisexual, and I'm sure about it and happy in that label. The thing is I'm not really attracted to the look of penises or vaginas. They just aren't attractive to me. I like having sex and the stuff that comes with it, but I really don't think any genitals are attractive. Is this something that makes me not bisexaul, and should I look into aspec identities?

Thank you, and have a good day/night.

As far as I know, that isn’t aspec, and it doesn’t make you not bisexual. Not having a preference or finding any attractive doesn’t affect your sexual attraction, so it wouldn’t have an effect on what labels you use.

#1-800-queer #queer advice hotline #advice calls #sexuality calls #queer #bi #cw: genitals #cw: sex

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kirsicca · 3 months

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(spicier stuff ❤️‍🔥⬇️)

When everyone's asleep, these two get busy ❤️‍🔥

•───────•°•❀•°•───────• Our backpackers: our main guy Frankie Shirey by yours truly Jamie Carpenter by @thebramblewood Roberta Rivera by @lonvely Miranda Chen by @foxsimthings Marcella Vinca by @jonquilyst Asher Reid by @plumbobpaparazzi Uriah Fox by @foxsimthings Katie Hale by @oatberrytea and our tour guide Ralena Ziegler by @kaepy

#ts4 #the sims 4 #my saves #ts4 gameplay #the bee save #takeahikechallenge #marcella vinca by jonquilyst #ralena ziegler #cw:sex #cw: nudity #cw: sex

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conkers-thecosy · 7 months

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Hi conkers!!

i have a question regarding hobbit ears.

In Poet (I forgot which chapter, sorry), you mentioned hobbit ears are very sensitive/easily aroused when touched(?) Does this only happen when the ears are being touched by someone else? Or can the hobbit themselves touch their own ears and feel arousal?

(is it the hobbit equivalent of jerking off???)

thank you very much

Well hi there!

This is such a great, fun question, and honestly not one I expected to get, so thank you for sending it!

Answer under the cut 💛

So, the way I decided to tackle this particular bit of popular fanon, is that Bilbo's ears are an eroginous zone. They aren't an inherently sexual organ, but they are particularly sensitive to stimulation. For example, let's say someone likes to have their neck kissed during foreplay or sex, it doesn't necessarily mean they can't wear a polo-neck jumper or necklaces the rest of the time without getting all hot and bothered. Another fun example to use is that Thorin is often depicted in fanfic as being the same way about his hair - there's smut upon smut of him going to pieces because Bilbo touched his hair or braids or beard, etc, but it would be a bit inconvenient if he became aroused just brushing his locks in the mornings. ...Though I guess it depends on the sort of night he had 😂

In particular for my headcanon about this, I specify via Beorn that Bilbo is a Fallohide hobbit. This is only partially true, as he's a Fallohide from his mother, and a Stoor from his father. I don't want to get too deep into the differences as it's a plot device I'm saving for "King" but I felt like some of the differences might be that a Harfoot hobbit would be sensitive about their feet, for example. Fallohides, by comparison, are more responsive to having their ears touched - and I have to admit, I mostly went for this because feet give me the ick, haha!

Now, in chapter three of "Poet" Bilbo has a pretty strong reaction to Thorin pinching his ear. The reason for that is threefold; first, because he's drunk and his inhibitions have been lowered. Second, because Thorin has been touching him up a little, while very, very obviously flirting for almost the whole chapter, so he's already a little flustered anyway. Third, and not to spoil anything for you (because I'm sure this will come as a shock) is because it's Thorin who does it, and Bilbo has a very specific set of emotions regarding his dwarf, poor chap!

I feel like in this particular headcanon, Bilbo couldn't get off from having his ears touched alone (though if that's your jam, I highly recommend "A Little Privacy" by Keelywolfe) but in the right situation it could definitely get him in the mood to get railed, let's say, over a large table, or the wall of a well 😁

Ahem.

Anyway, I hope this answers your question! Thanks so much for sending it, it was fun to have an excuse to ramble about my silly ideas, haha!

Lola xx

#anon #ask #anon ask #conkers-theficwriter #conker's bagginshield headcanons #cw: sex #soldier poet king series #conkers corner

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mock-arts · 2 years

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(Racy!) internal art for @eclipsemidnight’s fic for the @swbigbang, “from ancient grudge (to soap opera television)”

You can see the rest of my art for this fic on ao3

(I have a lot of art for the swbigbang that will be trickling over to tumblr over the next week or so, but please feel free to take a gander at everything on ao3 in the meantime!)

#obimaul #obi wan kenobi #darth maul #swbb2022 #nsft #cw: sex #but like it’s all above the clothes #or the porg printed towel rather #swbb2022: fagtsotv #big bang

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marshmallowsqoosh · 1 year

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[Sleep Token (Band) | Gratitude]

Fandom: Sleep Token Title: Gratitude Rating: Mature CW: Non-Explicit Sex, Tentacles, Dubious Consent -> Explicit Consent, Hand Jobs, References to Mental Health Issues, Lesser Warnings: Altered Physical State (Sleep gives His vessels gifts that cause mutations; III has tentacles), Self-Conscious!Vessel/Depressed!Vessel, Sleep is chill/supportive, Sleep is an eldritch horror that exists in an alternate plane of existence and manifests as tentacles to His vessels, Vessel is Sleep’s host so... assisted masturbation???

Summary: Sleep doesn't understand much about humans, but knows many of them appreciate physical intimacy. He enjoys paying His vessels-especially His host-gratitude and praise.

Vessel is grateful... but not entirely positive he's earned it. III is very positive he's earned it. ♥ aka Sleep likes to praise His vessels by making them feel good and III gets to help.

extras. Status (& AO3 Link): complete! word count. ~3815

I am not responsible for what I do when I’m tired and haven’t slept in like four days.

♥

Vessel wakes up to the sensation of awareness in his core… and, perhaps, in part because he feels… familiarity and waking nerves spreading through his body. Nerves that aren't his.

In the same moment he manages to push up on his left arm—body and limbs already beginning to feel nonexistent in anticipation—he feels III shift beneath his right arm and quickly shushes him.

"Mmm… Vessel—?"

"It's nothing." A chaste kiss across the other's forehead, a gentle trail of fingers down the side of III's face, cupping his cheek for the briefest moment to lull him back down to the pillows. "I'll only be a few moments. Go back to sleep."

The words always leave such an odd taste in his mouth—one he isn't certain is his own awareness or their Old God being pleased. But, after a moment of struggling to wake up more, III finally relaxes back into the bed, rolling onto Vessel's pillow, in the process, and clearly doing his best to smother himself in the familiarity and scent as Vessel gingerly wills himself out of bed. He only watches III for a moment longer—just long enough to check he's indeed still and fast asleep again—before he turns his full attention to getting even a little bit further away. Somewhere he won't risk waking the bassist or either of the other vessels or any acolytes.

His walk is unsteady as the awareness spreads and becomes heavier. It doesn't take long until he's shaking with the sheer effort to stay standing, one hand braced on the wall as he edges down the hallway. He perhaps wanted to get to the library, maybe even the oratory. Somewhere… quiet and away from people. As it is, he's lucky he manages not to collapse on the bathroom floor after fumbling with the door handle. He barely manages to catch himself on the sink counter, at least a little aware that he knocks over the little cup holding various personal items—toothbrushes; a pen for some reason; IV's toothpaste, that he kept telling people not to use—and simply grips the counter as tight as possible.

He can feel the small rift forming in the center of his back—knows it isn't really attached to him and still wondering if he could perceive it; he knows the others can't, not even II, with his gift of infinite and expanding knowledge from Sleep.

II… knows and understands in a way the others—even Vessel—don't and can't and simply tells all of them to accept that Sleep's rift is a courtesy to reduce the strain of Vessel hosting Him. II, in particular, was fond of the few times he was awake at the same time as Sleep, eagerly—as eagerly as he could in his rather perpetually fatigued state—seeking out the affirmations from their god and accepting the gentle tap of a tentacle on his head, likening it to a kiss on the forehead.

III never seemed bothered by the explanation and had simply allowed the curious tentacle-like appendage to coil around his arm, the first time he saw it. He never went out of his way to approach Sleep, instead only taking any attention from the manifestations when they happened to occur near him and never anything more. Always mindful that his hands never got too close to where the rift supposedly formed.

IV had been a bit more forward, his first time; holding his hand out to let it come to him before he pet down the length, either unaware or unconcerned that it sent a shiver up Vessel's spine as Sleep responded in delight to the extra attention. Even so and despite his usual cravings for affirmation and acknowledgement from literally any of the other vessels, IV seeks Sleep out even less than III does. He waits to be invited closer, even when he's aware Sleep is awake and manifested, he waits until Vessel invites him closer—sometimes II will, if Vessel hasn't noticed him—and will wait further, hand outstretched, until Sleep acknowledges him and beckons him closer.

When he finally manages to raise his head enough to look up at his reflection, Vessel finds his skin already flushing an enticing shade of pink and red that slowly spreads over him and a thin layer of sweat starting to form. He feels and sees his tank top move—the shoulder strip first, before the hem gets pushed up. Nothing in the mirror, it simply looks like his shirt moving on its own; but, he can see the dark appendages in his peripherals, coiling from his back as they move over his shoulder. Around his waist.

I did not mean to wake you, Vessel.

Sleep's voice is as intoxicating as ever and Vessel takes a series of slow, deep breaths to try keeping even a sliver of his focus. It always… takes a few minutes, when he first wakes up, to brace himself for the inevitability. He may not have been ready today… but, maybe he didn't want to be, either.

One of the appendages—a black void, little more than an illusion of shadow but definitely with form—slithers over his shoulder and coils around his neck, just tight enough he has to tilt his head back to follow the pull. The two around his waist are resting just above the band of his pants, waiting for Vessel to be able to think clearly, to consent to the continued gesture of praise or to… decline? He's never positive what Sleep is waiting for. Confirmation he was awake? A sign of weakness? He knows the Old One is waiting for verbal consent; but, it always feels like He's waiting for something else, too.

"Humans are sensitive to touch, Sleep, and I am always aware, so that I may serve you in a most timely manner. I would have reacted sooner or later and—" His breath hitches, his knees nearly buckling; the words apparently constitute enough consent that Sleep's prior touches resume. The tentacle around Vessel's neck tightens and coils more and he feels the slick membrane leaving residue behind in the process as the tip trails up to his mouth, tapping the corner lightly in mockery of a kiss. One of the two at his waist manages to push both the waistband of his pants and underwear out of the way, just enough that the other can slither down further, coaxing him further to arousal.

It's all he can do, desperately trying to grip the counter tighter, even when he can't find purchase to do so. "—a-and… we would have woken III. He needs rest."

Do you not?

It's getting harder to think straight. It's only sheer will keeping him from trying to shift his weight just enough he might get a little bit more friction than the languid stroking at Sleep's pace. Only sheer will keeping him from pulling the tentacle near his mouth into his mouth. He needs to stay focused.

"I am your vessel. I—my voice, my body, my everything—is yours to do with as you please, regardless of place and time."

He gave up his boundaries years ago, if he ever had them. At least with Sleep—as His vessel—he has a purpose.

You are so much more than my vessel. If this routine is becoming inconvenient, you need only say so. I prefer my vessels in good health, especially so my most devoted. This is meant to be a reward, Vessel… not a punishment.

"I understand."

He doesn't—well. He does. He doesn't agree, necessarily, but he does understand that the moments Sleep chooses to be more familiar and intimate with any of them—mostly Vessel, although he's extended his praises and offers to the others; Vessel isn't sure any of them, except perhaps II, understand. But when Sleep chose to indulge in this sort of praise… Vessel knows he should consider himself fortunate for such an attentive god.

The words, thankfully, seem to sate Sleep's desire to try affirming anything further. Vessel stays standing by sheer will—the desire not to appear as weak as he knows he is. He lets himself lean forward, trusting the little remaining strength in his arms and the fact Sleep has a hold around him to keep him mostly upright. The appendage around his neck loosens and slides away to turn its attentions elsewhere—moving down Vessel's back and trying to wriggle its way into his pants, as well. Without it holding his head back, Vessel lets his head loll forward, not remotely interested in trying to hold it up. No different than bowing his head during worship and letting him keep his attention fixed firmly on the sink and the way his hair curtains around him, to keep from watching the way Sleep strokes him. Different from a human touch. More like a mouth, in feel a texture, but still not quite the same. Still more than enough to feel something that resembles a positive emotion, even as some part of him continues to insist he hasn't earned this praise.

As though proving he hasn't earned this, Sleep suddenly stops and it's only the pride of his devotion that silences the protest lodged in his throat. This is at Sleep's discretion. If He decides Vessel no longer deserves recognition and reward, that is His decision and is not for Vessel to protest—

Ah, most wonderful, I feared you would not hear me. Please, assist me.

Hear Him? He has to be talking to Vessel, but… that hardly makes any sense—

Before Vessel can form enough coherency to ask for clarification—even as the need to do so leaves a horrible and appropriate taste of failure in his mouth; even as he remains painfully aroused and desperately wanting more than what's given—a new touch nearly does pull the startled scream from him. At the very least, it does elicit a sharp gasp and his attention snapping back to the present in clearer focus. But, he freezes from turning, his attention focused on the mirror and finding III's reflection smiling at him, hand resting gently on Vessel's waist, cushioned between two of Sleep's tentacles.

With the acknowledgement, III finally presses to up to Vessel's back with a soft, airy sigh. He can't see the rift that Sleep manifests from; but, he knows it's there and can see the tentacles and is oh so mindful that he's not flush against Vessel's back, but still close enough the tentacles are gently squished between them and cause all of them to give a delighted wriggle that nearly makes Vessel's knees buckle as Sleep returns His attention to the languid stroking and caressing of His vessel's body.

It's only in that moment that Vessel even realises III's left arm is around his chest, tight enough to hold him up, even as the nails of his right hand dig into Vessel's skin as a slow, shaky breath escapes and Vessel realises that III is receiving the same careful, rewarding attention.

Which… does make sense; Sleep was never shy about extending His praises to the other vessels; they simply never took Him up on the advances. Usually. Even when Vessel tries to encourage them to—reminding them they have earned the praise—they declined and Sleep let it rest for the time. III finally accepting… makes sense and Vessel's grateful because he deserves the reward, but—

"When did you—?"

"You told me to go back to Sleep, remember?" III laughs at his own cheeky answer. Even so, he's clearly distracted as his body rocks in gentle motions to meet the way Sleep touches him and, in turn, ends up grinding against Vessel and pulling a quietly pleased moan from both of them. When he pushes against Vessel's back, this time, still mindful not to trap Sleep too thoroughly between them, he's pushing Vessel down to a more curled over position, almost flat to the counter, with III curled over him, still holding him up but utilising as much of the counter as he can for assistance.

Using the extra support to bring his right hand up, gently brushing Vessel's hair away from his neck. For a moment his fingers simply trace the wetness left behind from when Sleep had pulled his head back; a curious touch, like he's testing the thickness… and perhaps safety for himself, seeing as his next move is to bite, gently, at the back of Vessel's shoulder and then the junction of his neck, moving the bites up oh so slowly until he can nip at the shell of Vessel's ear, just to watch him shudder and struggle to breathe and stay perfectly still. He goes back to Vessel's shoulder, just to kiss the bite mark and follow the prior trail of bites with his tongue flat to Vessel's flesh; instead of another nip, he blows gently as the trail left by his tongue and Vessel finally bites out a short, remarkably pitiful expletive, his chest and entire torso heaving with the heavy breaths, hands curling into tight fists.

He just needs to stay still, it's all a test of devotion and will—

III's breath is warm against his neck, against the trail left by his tongue, "Sleep asked me to help. He said you're being stubborn."

Vessel's breath hitches; but, he doesn't get a chance to protest. A moan escapes, instead, as III bites at his neck again, a little bit harder, and his right hand moves across Vessel's throat, fingers curling gently, the exact same way Vessel does to him on stage.

"You always do so much for us, Vessel… for Sleep. For me. This is not a test and you will not be punished for enjoying yourself. Let me do something for you, even just this once."

Vessel wants to argue.

It's always a test—everything in life is a test—but more than that III always does more than enough. But the protests die on his lips, lost in another moan as III rolls his hips. Sleep has a tentacle stroking him, too, and the motion pushes Vessel further into the counter, pushes his own erection against the counter in the same moment Sleep coils tighter around him.

"May I?" III is quiet. Vessel almost doesn't hear him and the question sounds ridiculous. He already agreed to help Sleep, why is he asking—? "Vessel… I need to hear you say you want me here. That you want both of us here. I need to know you want this and you aren't just catering to me or Sleep. Tell me the truth."

It's only then Vessel realises everything else has stopped. Even as III stays as close as he can, both arms around Vessel like he's afraid to let go, he isn't grinding against Vessel anymore. Sleep isn't moving and most of His appendages aren't even touching Vessel anymore, clearly waiting on an answer, as well. But he isn't supposed to want—

Even as he tells himself as much, as he tells himself it's better this way as III starts to loosen his grip and back away… even then, he can't stop himself from grabbing III's wrist, from keeping him from leaving. The words lodge in his throat, desperate to be said, even as he tries to tell himself to let go—

You are allowed to want, Vessel. He sits up a little straighter and that finally makes him release III when he hears a quiet whine of discomfort from the other vessel. I have told you, many times since you came into our folds. You are far too cruel to yourself—moreso than I could ever dream to be or you to imagine me to be. Even in my infinite existence and my desire to mute your demons, you create more and more every day. You needn't fear allowing yourself a singular pleasure when offered. I believe you will find it most beneficial.

He doesn't trust himself to turn around; but, he can still see III in the mirror, looking more and more concerned in place of confusion. Uncertain he's allowed to offer comfort with how… heavy the atmosphere still feels. He wonders if III feels it, too.

"Stay…" Concern dissipates almost immediately and he looks… hopeful. Hesitant, but hopeful. Afraid of rejection. Afraid he's misunderstood. … He hates the word he needs to say. Want is such… an unsettling and terrifying word. "Please, stay."

III is still cautious, slowly edging up to his back once more. Sleep retracts some of His tentacles back through the rift, until there's only the one around Vessel's torso, one winding down his leg, and two reaching back for III. A moment later he feels the warmth and weight of III pressing up to his back again, just close enough that Sleep wiggles a little bit to show He still can, even as III wraps his arms around Vessel again.

"... I know it's hard for you to say. I get that." He presses his forehead against one of Vessel's shoulders, breathing slow and deep, like he's trying to will himself not to get his hopes up. "May Sleep continue?"

"... Yes." This is easier to answer and he's grateful for the direction and understanding. An airy moan escapes his throat as Sleep's attention turns to his earlier actions; the tentacle around his torso slips back into his pants to resume the gentle strokes, while the one down his leg comes back up and slips down the back of his pants, prodding at and teasing his hole, gently.

"May… I stay?"

"Please."

Immediately, III's attention is back on his neck and shoulder, biting down as his arms curl tighter for the briefest moment. Only a moment before his right hand is helping Sleep, fingers a much more solid grip as he strokes Vessel back to full arousal and his left hand moves up, closing over Vessel's throat. Not tight enough he can't breathe, but tight enough to that Vessel can feel his own moans, tight enough he's forced to tilt his head back once more. All the while rocking and grinding into Vessel to meet Sleep's touches, chest heaving against Vessel's back with each muffled moan and gasp, ever desperate to be as close as possible.

Sleep was intoxicating on His own; III is… a different kind of intoxication. One that made Vessel feel like he was just beneath the surface, surrounded by water and so close to drowning but just beneath, so he gets intervals where he can break the surface and gasp for air before he's dragged back down that little bit.

"Vessel—" III's voice is little more than a whine. Desperate and airy and needy.

Vessel wants to reach back. To reciprocate the generous touches or to pull III around so he's the one against the counter. So he's the one left squirming and weak in the knees and barely coherent.

Two more tentacles catch his wrists—coiling, just tight enough he can't move his hands from the counter, twisting and twining over his palm and through his fingers, like a desperate hold. Not tight enough to be painful but tight enough to get his attention when he feels another winding around and up his neck again, until the tip can trace his lips and he desperately takes it into his mouth this time. Sweet. Wet. Liquid sugar. That little bit thinner than he's used to from Sleep and… definitely sweeter.

It's only when he realises the sensation is mirrored on his dick—slick and wetter than Sleep normally is—that it registers the tentacles don't belong to Sleep. That they're coming from III, that more of the thinner tentacles wrap tight around Vessel, pulling him flush to III's body as Sleep retracts Himself completely back into rift so the two are flush together. It's the grinding and stroking and III biting down on the tender flesh between shoulder and neck to muffle himself, when Vessel doesn't have the same luxury and the expletive echoes off the closed walls around them.

It's barely being able to hold himself up on his own—he's fairly sure he's only standing because of the counter and III still holding him close and tight—as his body gives small, involuntary jerks to process the post-coital haze trying to lull him back to a less aware state. It's a stuttering exhale as the sweetness slowly leaves his mouth and, as it does, the tentacle slowly retracts and reforms into a more familiar hand; all of the tentacles retract into III's body and he simply wraps both arms as tight around Vessel as he can manage, still coming down from his own high and breathing heavy against Vessel's neck.

"That… was new…?" It feels ridiculous to point out; but, talking is keeping him awake, even as he feels something in his chest flutter when III gives a breathless laugh.

"Not really… no one ever asked what—what my gift from Sleep was." Some of his words stutter as he tries to catch his breath. He stubbornly pushes his face into Vessel's neck, nuzzling and trying to nest, the same way he does when he's falling asleep. "… Are you upset?"

"About your gift?"

"That I didn't tell you."

He hums and—with an effort—manages to pry III's grip loose enough that he can turn and lean back on the counter and finally wrap his arms around the other vessel. He looks… worried, but meets the look, evenly, clearly looking for assurance.

"I think it is a wonderful manifestation of a gift. One we can talk about in the later hours." Vessel presses a gentle kiss to III's forehead, then his lips. Chaste, barely a brush of contact but enough that III looks surprised. "You're very sweet tasting, yes. That will be for later, as well. Can you walk?"

III just blinks a few times before the corners of his lips tug into a more cheeky smile. "Should be askin' you that, Ves… your room?" He nods, a bit absently; not quite willing to admit he's still trying to will feeling to his legs. "… Me, too?"

This time he answers by gingerly pushing himself off the counter—he still takes a moment to find his balance—and tugging III's hand, gently, to get him to follow. They barely hit the mattress before III is pressed flush against him once more, arms tight around Vessel's chest and face shoved against his shoulder. He's out cold within moments and Vessel simply pets his hair back.

You should rest, as well, Vessel.

He hums a little, to acknowledge Sleep and lets his eyes close. He knows rest won't come easily.

But, he is feeling significantly better… and is properly surprised that he wakes up in the morning, instead of simply opening his eyes from a restful state.

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