sooo the dacryphilia thing you just wrote with the omens boys has me thinking abt the same thing with the sleep token boys 👀
don’t mind me giggling, this was so much fun to think about 🤭
cw: 18 + 𝖒𝖉𝖓𝖎. orgasm denial, thigh slapping, oral, use of a toy on reader, overstimulation, dacryphilia, multiple orgasms, pain kink, begging, unprotected sex, taunting, dom/sub dynamics, gagging, biting, cockworship, reader referred to as ‘bunny’ and ‘cock slut’.
VESSEL
The tears in your eyes are his favourite, his cock twitches as he watches the way you writhe in pleasure, coming undone again and again from him, from what he’s doing to you. His mouth trails back to your thigh, teeth dragging along your sensitive flesh before he bites down, harsh, and groans at the way you jolt beneath him.
The pain bleeds into pleasure, and a moan slips from your lips. Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging desperately, craving more—craving him to stop teasing, to stop denying you the release he knows you’re clinging to. Every brush of his mouth feels deliberate, taunting, a reminder that he’s in complete control.
You can feel the sting from his teeth marks, aware of how they’re scattered across your skin, each one a signature, a claim. You’ll look almost artistic beneath him, painted in bruises and bites.
“Ves… please…” you breathe, voice trembling, and then his hand comes down hard against your thigh. The sound cracks through the air, your legs trembling from the sting, the heat in your belly growing as the throbbing between your thighs turns near unbearable.
Another slap follows, this one so close you swear just a few inches more and he’d strike exactly where you need him most. You’re convinced that even the faintest touch there would send you tumbling over the edge into your teetering climax, but no such mercy comes.
Instead, you feel the tears spill down your cheeks, soft, pleading sounds escaping as you fall deeper into desperation, aching for relief he refuses to give.
II
He always knows how to teeter between being the hard dom you crave and the softer one you need, like now.
You try to push yourself, grinding down against his lap as you ride him, chasing that high, pushing yourself further into complete euphoria, wanting nothing more than to come apart around him again and again, but as the tears start to roll down your cheeks, his hands come up to cradle you, his voice softening.
“Look at me, bunny.”
When you lift your head and blink through the tears, you choke on your words.
“I’m okay… just—so good…” you moan, rocking your hips as he bucks up beneath you. The sudden jolt makes your head fall back, your body trembling as he hits every right spot.
“No, slower…” he murmurs, trying to guide you, but you shake your head.
“Don’t wanna…” you breathe, defiant, grinding down harder until you find your rhythm again, bouncing in uneven, desperate movements.
Then his hands tighten around your hips, pinning you down. His fingers dig into your flesh in a way you know will leave marks—not out of possession, but concern.
“I said, slower.” His voice is still commanding, but laced with that familiar tenderness. His hands slide up to cradle your face as he leans in, kissing your cheeks and the tears away. He gives you a moment to breathe, to settle, while you rock gently against him, whimpering with each slow thrust, his cock pressing deep inside you, grounding you in every sense of the word.
III
Truthfully, you try to hold yourself back when you can feel yourself slipping further into subspace with him, completely overwhelmed by your own pleasure, desperately clinging to him, because the moment he sees the tears in your eyes, he takes it as a challenge—one that he’s already won.
There’s no tenderness in his tone, only mockery, as he watches the way your face scrunches up, how you fight the inevitable, gasping as you try to swallow down the sobs threatening to spill free, but your body betrays you, trembling beneath him as he rolls his hips, pounding his cock deep inside you, striking that sweet spot that sends you spiraling into full overstimulation, your body twitching from even the slightest touch.
“Oh, is someone finding it a bit too much? Maybe I should stop.”
“No! No!” you gasp, grasping at him, trying to keep him pressed down against you, needing his full weight as he starts to tease, dragging his cock from deep inside you, pulling out inch by inch.
“Look at you,” he taunts, voice thick with satisfaction. “You’re a mess. I don’t think you can handle any more.”
“No, please,” you practically sob, pleading as you look up at him through glassy, tear filled eyes. “I can handle it—please, please, I can.”
Your voice cracks, and that’s what does it, a smirk spreading across his face, pride and cruelty mingling in his expression. This is what he wants, to watch you beg and writhe beneath him, undone and desperate, and even then, he refuses to give in, refusing to give you what you want—at least, not yet.
IV
“Look up at me, pretty,” Ivy purrs, fingers combing back through your hair to guide you while he focuses his phone on you. “That’s it… take it all,” he croons from behind the screen, watching as you sink every inch of his cock into your mouth until you’re gagging on him.
You’re on your knees on the floor in front of him, thighs spread and trembling, squeezing around a toy buried deep inside you, the vibrations set to their highest level. Quivers ripple through your body with every aftershock of your last orgasm, you don’t think you have anything left to give, but he refuses to believe it.
He watches, admiring the way you whine around his cock, trying to keep going despite how utterly brainless the overstimulation has made you. Your face is flushed, eyes glassy and wet. Each time you gag, taking him deeper, more tears fill your eyes—from the pleasure, the desperation, and the need to please him.
“Such a messy little cockslut,” he smirks, and you moan, a pulse of heat flickering between your thighs at the name.
When he finally slips his cock from your mouth, you gasp, dragging in air, only for him to grip it at the base and press the slick head to your cheek, rubbing it over the path of your tears.
“Don’t want to waste such pretty tears, do we?” he murmurs, voice low and amused. “Should have you cry all over my cock so I can fuck you with them.”
You feel the mix of your saliva and his precum spread over your skin as he drags his cock across your face, over both cheeks, wiping your tears away with each slow, deliberate stroke, a wicked grin curling across his lips as he watches you tremble.