#sleep/vessel

[marshmallowsqoosh]

[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.

[elkkiel]

thank you @vix2section for the TMBTE vinyl!! please accept this spinny little friend as a token (👀) of gratitude 🩷🩷🩷

[jjangredpanda]

[spillgays]

Vessel smiles 🫶🏻

[aquareegia]

[sleepytoken]

[vvandelo]

MASKED BANDS ARE RUINING MY LIFE!!

[thatchickwiththecamera]

WE ASKED AND ADAM DELIVERED

Sources: Rightful Peeps on Twitter

[blanchebees]

Hunter

Tip jar

[copia]

sleep token rituals 7/? ♯ source — @twilighttowayvision — "And now the weightlessness recedes..."

[piercethenix]

vessel in blue lighting💙

[excelsior9173]

havent seen this photo on here and i need it on my dash (source)

[dimitrescula]

gays in masks gotta be my favorite genre of music

[amustikas]

:D

[earth-orbit]

MEN BE SO GOOD AT WHIMPERING I NEED TO STUDY HIM IN A LAB!!!

[mouth-of-sauron]