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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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blairamok · 3 months

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sugar, i’ve developed a taste for you

reference

#my art #good omens #good omens fanart #aziraphale #crowley #brought to you by sugar by sleep token

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howlsnteeth · 2 months

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'cause I am broken into fractions oh and I am driven to distraction

#>:)#cult of the lamb #cotl #cotl narinder #cotl the one who waits #cotl fanart #cult of the lamb fanart #lyrics are from #distraction by sleep token #still not done with this btw. i'm having a ton of fun and i have plaaanty of headcanons so

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forestinfire · 3 months

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hii im back from being shadowbanned and finally can show you these wonderful sleep token cards <3

my insta @forestxfire

#sleep token #sleep token art #my art #1k #2k #3k

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nocterish · 2 months

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I slithered here from Eden

just to sit outside your door

Overused caption but it just fits them- it's just them, it was made for them

[PRINTS]

#would have used either that or sleep token lyrics ngl #and wahoo finally got to do a rendered piece of them after for so long #aziraphale #crowley #good omens #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #good omens fanart #artists on tumblr

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vvandelo · 3 months

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MASKED BANDS ARE RUINING MY LIFE!!

#art #digital art #digital illustration #fanart #illustration #sleep token #sleep token band #sleep token fanart #sleep token vessel #vessel #the band ghost #swiss ghoul #swiss ghost

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simpleapparition · 4 months

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he's busy

finally done this little sleep token comic!!!! took so long that there have been multiple mask and costume changes between me starting and finishing this

#my art #sleep token #vessel sleep token #iv sleep token #iii sleep token #ii sleep token #i dont like this actually but its been haunting me so im just throwing it out here as is

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jjangredpanda · 3 months

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#sleep token #vessel #alkaline #budapest park #re-up #my.gifs

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sleepanonymous · 6 months

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Legend has it if you listen to this soundcheck on repeat it will clear your skin, water your crops, and cure your depression. I hope this heals all of you like it has healed me.

#sleep token #vessel sleep token #vessel #song take me to church #take me to church #hozier #hozier cover #hozier take me to church #okay the caption is cheeky but this is pretty amazing #i wish the audio was better/longer but this was recorded outside a venue on a cellphone #the mp4 is in my google drive #in the rituals folder #it's literally a 30 second video of a wood door #but you can see the videographer get excited and thats kinda cute #because i'd be the same way fam #i wish i knew who actually recorded this so i could give proper credit #but its one of those things that's been passed around like crazy on the down-low #i know the person who *claims* to have recorded it is from ny or nj #so this might be from september 10th this past na rituals tour #i couldn't find this door on google maps #but i also couldn't get around to the back of the building to be 100% certain #i also tried checking union transfer the palladium and rams head live! but had no luck there either #if anyone has any more info on this soundcheck or the unedited video #(you can see and sort of hear it jump at the first “i'll tell you my sins”)#please please please tell me

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blanchebees · 2 months

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Let's be perfectly misaligned together, a Valentine's offering

Tip jar

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tusks-and-claws · 11 months

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Cold Love/Hot Blood

Miguel O’Hara x female reader

Summary: “Between teeth on a broken jaw/following a bloodtrail, frothing at the maw”

Miguel is struck with something that he’s never experienced before

Tags/warnings: smut (18+), oneshot, dubcon by way of pheromones, fingering, overstimulation, squirting, rough sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, size kink, feral Miguel, biting, marking, blood drinking, paralytic venom

Wordcount: 3k

Ao3 link here

You opened your eyes, blinking at the soft light from the bleary haze. Wincing, you raised your hand to your head. It didn't necessarily hurt, but it definitely felt wrong. What had happened? You were on a mission. That's right. And it had been going so well, until… until the anomaly villain threw something at you and Miguel. What was it? It had such an awful smell to it. And, where was Miguel?

You traversed the rubble of the abandoned building you were in. You couldn't see him. You shouted out for him.

"Here, I'm here," you heard him from the distance. Following his voice, you found him under some pieces of sheetrock from a collapsed wall. He was pinching the bridge of his nose through his mask.

"Geez, Miguel, are you alright?"

"Been better." His voice sounded strained. "Got a transmission from Jess that she's got hands on the anomaly. We'll meet her back at HQ. You go on ahead of me."

"What? No, we have to-" you started grabbing at the rubble to pull it off of him. He caught your arm before you could keep lifting.

"Please," he said, trying to meet your eyes from behind his mask. "Just go."

"What the hell is going on, Miguel? You're not… you're not acting right. We have to get you out of here."

He brought his hands up, holding his head in frustration. "Please, just do it. Don't make me beg."

"LYLA, please check him," you said, the avatar popping up and saluting you.

"No, don't-!" He tried to catch her in the air but she evaded him.

"His heart rate is really elevated but he seems okay otherwise. I think he's being dramatic. I don't detect any major injuries," she reported. You thanked her and she disappeared.

You crouched down to where he was. "What's going on, Miguel?" Your tone was serious.

He tried to hold your gaze for a moment until he swore and looked away. "That bomb that the anomaly threw… it affected me in a way that it clearly didn't affect anyone else, alright? Are you happy now?"

You furrowed your brow. "I don't understand."

He sighed, his breath shaking ever so slightly. "Itwasapheromonebomb." He said it so quickly and quietly.

"...What?"

"It was a pheromone bomb. Just leave me here so I can wait it out. This is so shocking humiliating- I," he sighed again. "Don't make me explain any further."

You blushed, not sure what to say. But you couldn't leave him like that, half-buried and vulnerable. "Can I at least help you up…? I promise I won't make fun of you. I just can't leave you defenseless like this."

He seethed for a moment, considering your offer. "...Fine. Grab this stupid sheetrock."

You did so, lifting it off of him with some effort. He did his best to stand up quickly. Despite his best, though, you could see the source of his embarrassment. He had a rock hard erection, and a particularly desperate one, by the looks of it. It laid upward, reaching towards his abdomen and pushing up against the tight fabric of his suit, straining. The size of him was nothing short of impressive.

You turned your gaze pointedly towards the ground as he moved away from the pile of rubble. Don't react don't react don't react. Could you pretend like you didn't notice? Even though not noticing was impossible, even from a single glance? You swallowed a lump in your throat, your head swimming with unprofessional thoughts.

Miguel turned from you, crouching down, hissing out a slow breath. "Fuck, it's getting worse," he whispered to himself, his body starting to tremble.

You took a step closer, reaching a hand out to his shoulder.

"Your proximity isn't… isn't helping." He admitted without turning around.

You stopped, silently moving your hand away from him. Touching him would surely make things harder.

"Miguel, I don't think waiting it out is an option for you. You just said it was getting worse."

He swore under his breath to himself. "I didn't mean for you to hear that. This is- shock it- this is completely foreign to me. Never been hit by anything like this before, it's s-so intense."

You winced at that, you'd never heard his voice so pained. But, what was the other option? You shivered just to think about it, your body reacting in ways that surprised you. How could you possibly propose helping him without making him think less of you? Would he even want help from you? Across from you, he was in turmoil, on his hands and knees trying desperately to control his breathing.

“Miguel… how can I help you?” It was a foolish question, a loaded question.

“You know the answer,” he replied from over his shoulder, his tone cold. He cried out again. “I- I can’t- can’t do that to you.”

“What if I’m offering?” You asked, a little too quickly, pushing down your fear and embarrassment for even thinking such things.

He turned further to meet your eyes, though you still couldn’t see his from behind the mask. You didn’t even need to see his eyes, his body language was communicating perfectly on their behalf. His muscles were pent up and quivering. Every breath rocked his massive shoulders. “Why?”

You didn’t think he’d ask that question. You searched your brain for an answer. “Because it isn’t your fault. And I respect you enough that this won’t change my mind.”

His thoughts seemed to be diverting to his baser instincts, his voice becoming a growl. “Need you… to be sure. Don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.”

“I’m sure,” you said.

In no time at all, he pounced, bringing you to the ground. He was on top of you, his taloned fingers caging in your wrists against the cracked concrete of the floor, your arms above your head. You landed with your legs apart and with him between them, his hips desperately close to yours. Your eyes widened at his feral energy, your chest rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath. He brought his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling. His exhale was shaky. “You smell so good… always smelled so good.”

Your body grew hot upon hearing that. Always? Had he thought about you in that way before? You smiled to yourself as he nuzzled the nose of his masked face into your neck, his hot breath coming through and ghosting over your skin. You could feel his huge frame shaking around you. He brought his hips down to your pelvis, seemingly being as cautious as possible as he began to grind his hardened length against you. His breath quickened at the contact, and he met you again with fervor, stimulating himself on you. His cock was unbelievably hard and hot, the temperature of him coming through both of your suits to meet your skin and overwhelm you. The feeling of him against you was sending shivers down your spine, the pleasant pressure made even sweeter by the promise of more to come. He positioned himself on top of you in such a way that each rhythmic, grinding rock found your clit and teased it with clothed contact.

You moaned lightly, the sound of it causing him to growl into your neck. You lifted your hips up, meeting him with the same tempo so he could grind into you more thoroughly, your bodies now writhing in tandem. His heavy breathing became panting. "Need to… need to touch you." He picked up his head and released your wrists, one hand steadying himself on the concrete, the other reaching down eagerly.

You got the memo, quickly slipping the pants of your suit down and throwing them aside so he wouldn't rip them off for you. You had at least enough hindsight to know you couldn't go back to HQ looking so disheveled. He dismissed the gloves of his suit and retracted his talons as his fingers found you immediately, honing in on the wet heat of your sex. Two plunged inside as he loomed above you, his muscles shaking again as he wet his fingers with your arousal. You shook right alongside him, your reaction bodily, as your back arched and your legs closed instinctively to hold his hand in place and not let him go. His fingers hooked inside of you, already relentless.

"Soaked," he whispered, almost to himself. The word resonated with a deep, animalistic hunger. Without removing his fingers from your warmth, he sat back on his knees and used his free hand to pry your legs open. "Need to see," he said. He watched the length of his fingers disappear over and over. The large hand that kept your legs wide was squeezing the soft flesh of your inner thigh, and he seemed fixated on the way it was yielding to his rough touches. Nearly everyone was small compared to Miguel, but you… you were different. He had his hands on you, inside of you, the comparison was tangible. You were small, soft, and his. His mind swam with how he would take you, how he would sheath himself inside of you until he bottomed out, how he would desperately fill you with his hot cum and hold your hips up to keep any precious drops from leaking out. It took everything in him to not reach down and start rubbing his impatient cock through his suit, but his fevered brain convinced him to keep his free hand on your leg so he could watch you fall apart from his fingers alone.

He was delirious as your walls started to spasm around his fingers, white hot pleasure pooling in your core, threatening to overflow as he kept up his efforts. The constriction of your muscles bolstered him, and he began to go faster and harder, starting to overstimulate you. You threw your head back, hands wildly trying to grasp at something on the concrete floor but coming up short. He removed his hand from your throbbing sex to start teasing your clit with abandon, and you moaned as your body lifted up off the floor.

"H-holy shit, Miguel," you gasped out. "It's- it's so much."

His hand moved so fast against your swollen clit that you could hardly think. The feeling was electric, and your orgasm was dangerously close. Your legs started to shake and tried to close around him again, but he kept them forced open as he intently watched, his chest rising and falling with quick breaths. You came and it utterly racked you, your body shuddering as you cried out, hot liquid spewing from you and drenching Miguel's hand and forearm. You squirted on him, because of him. You thought you should be embarrassed, but he gave you no opportunity.

As your head just started to clear, he recalled his mask into the neck of his suit. You quietly gasped at unexpectedly seeing his face. So strong, angular, and handsome. His red eyes looked wild, his mouth was open, his fangs fully extended. He studied his hand, turning it over so the mess you made could catch the light. As it started to dry down on him, he brought the two fingers that had been inside of you up to his mouth, and he licked them both clean. You gaped at him, almost fully unable to process what was happening.

When he was finished, he turned his gaze from his fingers and back onto you, as you sat up on your elbows to watch him. You saw that his cock was still as hard as ever, still pushing to break free. As if reading your mind, he recalled that part of his suit too as he grabbed your legs and yanked you toward him. He rested his cock over your abdomen, once again reveling in just how much bigger than you he was. The hot weight of his manhood on your skin set you ablaze once more and you eagerly awaited him. He thrusted but without penetrating you, sliding himself over you and wetting his cock on your cum. His exhales quaked with anticipation until he could wait no longer. Even on his knees, he towered over you, and so he needed to tilt your hips up further so your entrance could meet the head of his leaking cock. He shifted his grip to your waist, holding firm as you steadied yourself on your elbows and looked to him with bated breath.

He slowly pushed his hips into you, his cock sinking deep into your pussy. The steady penetration had you reeling. You needed to feel him, all of him. Every inch, all at once. It felt like it took ages for him to finally reach the hilt, but when he did, he waited inside of you for a brief, merciful moment. You basked in the feeling of being so full, so complete. He began to pull himself out of you, leaving you cold and empty for a split second until he slammed his entire length back into you, repeating and repeating at an unwavering pace.

Each powerful thrust reached so deep inside of you that it was nearly painful. Immediately, the head of his cock found your cervix and was hitting it with each hard pump that Miguel delivered. Your eyelids grew heavy as your eyes began to roll back towards your skull. His onslaught was so thorough, every smack of his hips against your pelvis reverberating through every inch of your body. The overstimulation of when he fingerfucked you had carried over, and you were already close to losing control all over again. He felt it too, as he growled in response to your pulsating walls.

"This cunt…." He snarled through his fangs. "This cunt is mine."

"Yours," you moaned, meeting his words a little too quickly.

"Going to mark you… so everyone knows."

"Mark me, Miguel." You agreed, not quite realizing what he meant. He started to lay you down onto the ground without removing himself from you, continuing to fuck you in missionary as he brought his face down to the crook of your neck. Your pulse quickened with excitement. He opened his mouth, his breath making your skin somehow even warmer. You wished that you could've seen the flash of his fangs before what came next.

He bit down on you, hard, and you could feel the course of his venom like molten lava through your veins. When the searing heat reached its crest, a soothing wash of warmth followed in its wake, leaving your muscles loosened and relaxed. Blood started to drip down your shoulder, the wet trickle quickly cooling as it made contact with the atmosphere. Miguel stayed latched to you as his tongue met your skin, lapping at the red stream, determined to consume it all.

You submitted to him fully, allowing him to position you how he saw fit so he could fulfill his feral need. His strong hands snaked around your torso to your back, lifting you up with him as he rocked back onto his knees. He helped you to swing your legs around his slim waist and to drape your arms over his huge shoulders. You let your face settle against his neck, the clean musky smell of him overwhelming your senses. His hands found your hips and he effortlessly lifted you up and down on his cock, fucking himself with your pussy like you weighed nothing at all. You moaned into him as you clenched around his cock, your limp body succumbing to the overpowering feeling of him. You started to shudder as your orgasm claimed you with a white-knuckled grip. You whined into Miguel's neck as it hit you with shock after shock, your vision going spotty while your cunt tightened around him.

He couldn't hold it any longer, and his cock jerked inside of you as he came. You were still getting hit with aftershocks of your own climax, your muscles bearing down to milk every drop of cum that he filled you with. He held you closer and he thrusted himself as far into you as he possibly could, instinctively trying to make sure as little seed would have the chance to leak out of you as possible.

Your muscle control started to slowly come back to you as you and Miguel were chest-to-chest, both of you sweating and heaving. You weakly raised your arms so your hands could tangle with the hair at the nape of his neck. You lingered there for a bit, his strong arms holding you in the place as you played with soft locks of chocolate hair. You finally leaned back to see clarity slowly returning to Miguel's expression, and he looked utterly mortified. He held your gaze as he turned red, removing one hand from your body so he could cover his face.

"Oh my God," he whispered. "What the shock came over me?"

You were struck with sudden fear. "Do you… not remember?" The fact that he was still buried inside you should've been a dead giveaway.

"No, I do," he said, nervously. "I remember getting hit with that stupid bomb, and you helping me, then me wanting to split you in half."

You couldn't help but giggle at that.

"I tried to make sure I wasn't too rough with you. I was still in there, the whole time," he said, taking his hand away from his face to smooth your hair. He stopped when he reached your neck, seeing the bite marks he left. "Guess I didn't do all that well, did I?"

"It's fine. I can take it."

"Clearly," he said, raising his eyebrows, mildly impressed. "Thank you. I… don't know what I would have gone through if you hadn't been so… generous. But… for God’s sake, let’s not go around telling people what happened. We have reputations.”

You agreed, the secret safe between the two of you, the puncture wounds on your neck a silent souvenir.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara #smut #my writing #not beta read #this one was for me tbqh #i didn't really know how to end it so pls be nice to me #but dear god read the warnings on this one #also another sleep token reference? on my fics?? it's more likely than you think #im nervous to post this one ahhhhhhh

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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.

#sqooshy writes #sleep token #sleep token fanfic #vessel sleep token #iii sleep token #vessel/iii #sleep sleep token #sleep/vessel #sleep/vessel/iii #rating: mature #cw: sex #tentacles #consentacles #cw: mental health #ao3 link #not beta'd

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