soft dom vessel is a biiiig fan of grabbing ur chin gently to make you look at him and nobody will convince me otherwise
“Focus on me, baby.” His voice is a soft purr calling you back as slender fingers cup beneath your chin, tilting your head just enough to make your hooded gaze meet his, a lustful haze falling over you. “I’m not finished with you yet.”
The sound you let out falls somewhere between a whine and a moan, knowing he’s prepared to pull more from you, because he loves having you completely undone. “You’ve got this, baby. Just one more.” but one more for him could also mean making you wait, edging you as he buries his fingers back inside—first one, then two, the curling drag of them filling you as he searches for that sensitive spot, the one he’s tormented you with while working you through orgasm after orgasm.
His grip on your chin never falters, keeping your eyes locked on his, keeping you close enough to kiss, and he does, each moan you give spilling into his mouth. Your hands clutch at him, desperate, tugging at his hair as you muffle pleas against his lips. Your thighs tremble with the slow build, the drag toward another peak.
“That’s it, you’re doing so good for me. Just a little more.”
Your head tips back, moans spilling free this time, and his mouth trails down to your throat, leaving soft, lingering, claiming kisses. “You can be louder for me, right? I know you can.” His fingers stroke that perfect spot again, and a tremor rips through you, dragging a deeper sound from your chest, followed by more, because of course you can. For him, you always can. He plays you like a finely tuned instrument, has you singing for him the second you fall apart around his fingers alone, because fuck, he’s masterful like that.
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.
Hii darling, I know how good you are when it comes to write spicy one shots so, i wanted to asked one, very specific 👀 I know you're into peggin and that stuff. The idea is Vessel using a fleshlight. I'll let you cook (if you're not interested it's okay)
<3 thank u :3
Oh bb, are you in my head? 🤭this is possibly one of my favourite kinds of things, not just the pegging, but the fleshlight too 😏
cw: 18 + 𝖒𝖉𝖓𝖎. pegging (strap), fleshlight, overstimulation, biting/marking, vessel being a slut.
There’s something about watching how slutty Vessel is on stage, the way his painted body glistens beneath the stage lights, the colours that illuminate him, and the way he taunts his fellow band members, how he reaches for them, kissing over masked mouths, gyrating against them as though to simulate a sexual act.
It’s as much sensual as it is emotional to watch him perform—the way he uses his body language and voice to draw you in, seducing not only those around him and the audience, but you, from your spot at the side of the stage. You’re always there, waiting in the wings, cheering him on. Watching your masked man perform feels like a slow dance of seduction, foreplay before you retreat to a hotel room together, and that’s when the real performance begins.
One smooth thrust is all it takes, making him moan into the pillow, his fingers curling into the sheets. “Look at you, you’re doing so good for me.” Your voice is soft, syrupy sweet, praise dripping from your lips as your hand strokes along his back. You lean forward, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades while your free hand slips beneath him to stroke his cock, thumb teasing the slit as you milk out more beads of precum. Slick coats your hand, and you use it as extra lubrication along his length. “You know what you were doing tonight up there, don’t you? You wanted to be fucked like this, didn’t you?” A smirk tugs at the corners of your mouth as you watch him tremble beneath you with every drag back of your hips before you drive forward again.
A stammered “yes” slips past his moans, his head nodding almost frantically. “Maybe I should teach you a real lesson for that, hmm?” You part your lips to press your teeth to his shoulder blade, nipping to mark him before letting your hand slip away from his throbbing cock. He whines, hips chasing after your touch, but you slam back into him hard and quick, pinning him in place.
“Be a good boy now.” Your mouth grazes the shell of his ear. “I have a little treat for you…” Reaching across the bed, you grab the fleshlight already waiting and bring it beneath him, guiding his hips forward until his cock pushes deep into the silicone. The whine he makes is pitiful, as though it isn’t quite what he wants—which only makes it better for you, watching him grow more desperate.
“Please, please, please.” His chant is breathless, hips bucking to chase both the tight silicone around his cock and the toy you’ve buried inside him.
“Please what?” You pout, mocking, as he writhes beneath you—practically delirious, begging for something he can’t even name, yet unable to stop.
With great effort, you maneuver the two of you onto your side, one leg hooked over his hip while you remain buried inside him with your strap, the fleshlight pressed down around his cock. “You gonna show me how needy you are, baby?” you purr against his ear, leaning up just enough to leave countless marks along the column of his neck. You admire the way he begins to rock his hips back and forth, his movements growing more desperate the harder he pushes back, burying the toy inside him and striking his prostate.
The sounds he makes are music to your ears—pathetic whimpers, slurred words tangled with every moan, endless begging and pleading, desperate for the release you’re edging him toward with every relentless thrust against that spot. “Are you going to stop being a little slut on stage if I let you cum?” you taunt, though both of you know the answer. Nothing will ever stop him from playing his little games with you—the foreplay that always leads to fucking like this and in every other way, because you can never get enough of him.
“If you’re not going to learn your lesson…” Your hips snap forward to meet his, practically bouncing against his ass. Every sound he makes melts into deep, throaty moans as you drive him over the edge, jerking the fleshlight along his cock until he’s forced to spill into it, the wet squelch filling the room as he empties himself inside, but you don’t stop—you keep fucking him, keep working the toy along his cock as his moans unravel into sobs.
“It’s too much—please, please, please.” His voice cracks, but you only smile, loving the sight of him breaking apart under overstimulation, trembling and twitching against you. You don’t let up, not until he’s falling apart again, cumming once more into the fleshlight, messy and wrecked, his cum seeping over your hand.
“Such a messy slut,” you tease, catching the side of his neck between your teeth, biting down hard enough to mark him before soothing the sting with your tongue. You trail slow, teasing kisses along his throat until you reach his ear, movements finally stilling. Wrapping an arm around him, you pull him tight to your chest and whisper, “And a good boy—just for me.” A soft kiss lands on his ear as you finally ease the fleshlight away, tilting it to watch cum pool and drip from it, already knowing you’ll make him clean it up himself.
Slow handjob x vessel??? I think YES (so do u hopefully)
I do!!! Just imagine making Vessel sit between your thighs as you reach around and slowly stroke him, the slow drag of your hand along his cock, listening to how he whimpers, teasing your thumb over the tip, milking out more precum with each stroke and using it to lather along his shaft, then watching the excess pool on his stomach. He’s so desperate, practically begging you to go quicker, to make him cum, and he sounds so deliciously pathetic and whiny. You just nip his ear and tell him to beg harder, and like a good boy, he does.
Hi bb, tysm 🥹💕 God, you had to pick my favourite kink, didn’t you? 🤭
Given the way we’ve seen Vessel on stage, I have no doubt he’s a big fan of that wrestling type of play, just pinning you down, grinding upon you, teasing his teeth against your throat, then a slow, taunting lick before he nips and bites down hard, and that’s not the only place he bites—or the only reason. He wants to claim you, and he’ll fuck you like it too, anywhere he pins you. Bonus points if you fight him back a little in your own attempt at dominance 🤭
Another thing he loves is the thrill of the hunt. He loves when you choose to play that game—him quietly stalking you, watching from a distance, sending you pictures of yourself as he closes in, until finally he catches you. By then, he’s worked up beyond control, and what follows is a rough, feral fuck.
Vessel would be the one in charge of pressing the gun against you, whispering veiled threats in your ear as he lightly strokes the weapon against your core.
And the boys? They'll be the ones to hold you down as you squirm, caressing every inch of skin with their hands and mouths, chuckling when they notice your eyes rolling back when Vessel presses down harder.
(bonus points if the reader doesn't know if the gun's loaded or not 👀)
oh my goooooood. i love this song and these lines especially 🫣 i can only apologise for what came over me
cw: 18 + 𝖒𝖉𝖓𝖎. slight dubcon, gun play, biting/marking, subtle threats, fear play, restraint by others, group dynamic, spit, dacryphilia.
“Such a pretty little thing.” Vessel’s voice doesn’t sound taunting, but full of admiration as he gazes down at you, those cool eyes locked on, studying every inch of you. Then, slowly, he lifts the gun and presses the barrel beneath your jaw.
“So pretty…” he murmurs, and a shiver ripples through you at the steel pressed so close, your pulse thrumming against it as you remain perfectly still.
Hands grip your wrists and thighs, holding you open, keeping you spread. The other three lean over you, their mouths teasing at your collarbone, your hip, the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. Teeth graze, bite, nip, making you squirm, and every twitch only tightens their hold, earning purrs of amusement. One spits on your chest and smears it with the flat of his tongue, while another dips to your neck, marking you harshly with his teeth.
Even with all their attention on you, your gaze won’t leave Vessel. He towers above you, his mouth curved—half amused, half smirking, lust burning behind his eyes as he drags the gun lower.
Your body jerks beneath the slow, savoring path of cold metal. The chill stands in cruel contrast to your flushed skin, your nipples hardening as the barrel traces the valley of your chest. Your back arches as it skims down your stomach, teasing lower.
“Do you trust me?” Vessel whispers at your ear, his canines grazing the shell lightly.
“She has no other choice,” iii sneers, but Vessel doesn’t respond. His focus never strays from you, from the way he presses the gun between your thighs, dragging the barrel against your slit.
You open your mouth to answer, but ii just laughs and shoves two fingers past your lips, curling them over your tongue. “No need to answer. Just choke on these.”
Your muffled protest only earns another chuckle, as iv bites into your thigh, making you writhe, but their grip holds you fast as Vessel presses harder.
“I bet you’re wondering if I’m cruel enough to have loaded it,” Vessel purrs, nudging the muzzle deeper, circling it lazily over your clit. “If this moment will end in your pleasure… or—” He leaves the rest unsaid, letting the silence carry the weight of his threat.
The hammer clicks back. The sound alone shatters through the growing haze—your eyes roll back, your breath stutters. They hum in unison, delighted, as hands and mouths claim every inch of you, while Vessel toys with you mercilessly, dragging out your pleasure. Fear and desire blur until you can’t tell one from the other. It coils tight inside you—suffocating, intoxicating.
Tears spill, streaking your cheeks, only to be kissed and licked away. All of them are on you, surrounding you, consuming you, until your body trembles violently and you’re falling apart the way they wanted—undone, ruined, completely at their mercy.
The silence that follows is broken only by the hammer clicking back into place, and Vessel’s soft, reverent whisper, “Good girl.”
I'm having so many Vessel x Noah x me thots lately, including Vessel & Noah making me sit in the cuck chair 😌🫠
In the chair set in the corner of the room, you’re visibly squirming, and Noah can see it. He basks in it, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk, while the look on Vessel’s face mirrors his.
“What’s the matter, baby? Aren’t you having fun watching?” His voice drips with taunt, and your thighs press together, desperate for relief from the ache building between them, but you can’t. They’ve both made sure of it, purposely restraining you with light binds that keep your hands tucked behind your back. You’re forced to sit and watch, nothing else. That’s been your strict instruction, and until now you thought you could handle it, but watching Noah with Vessel spread out, kneeling between his thighs, makes your restraint unbearable.
“He’s so pretty, isn’t he?” Noah asks, his eyes flicking briefly to yours before he bends forward, the flat of his tongue gliding along the underside of Vessel’s thick cock in one smooth motion. It’s already slick with saliva from when Noah had taken him into his mouth moments ago, and now he’s wetting him further—using it to taunt you.
A grunt breaks from Vessel’s lips, his fingers tightening in the back of Noah’s hair, holding him close. The moment Noah’s tongue reaches the pierced tip, he circles it in a slow, teasing motion. Your eyes stay locked on them both as you watch Vessel’s hips jerk at the sensation, precum spilling steadily from the swollen head straight onto Noah’s tongue. The sight makes you whine, aching to taste it yourself—preferably from Noah’s mouth.
thinking abt comparing hand sizes with either vessel or noah…. size kink go brrrrr
These took two very different directions, a little fluff and something more... suggestive 🤭
NOAH: “Stop!” you giggle as Noah’s hand closes easily around yours, his grip firm and teasing. He gives a gentle squeeze before tugging you against his chest while you squirm, trying to wriggle free.
“I’m being serious!” you protest through your laughter.
“Why do you wanna compare hand sizes anyway?” he teases, his voice dropping into that low, amused tone that always makes your stomach flip. “We already know mine’s bigger.”
“Is that what you think?” you huff playfully, turning your head just enough to catch the smirk tugging at his lips. You reach back for his hand again, catching it with your smaller one and pressing your palm flat against his. His fingers extend past yours, long and warm, his skin soft against your own. The simple touch makes your heart flutter.
Before you can pull away, his fingers lace through yours, closing the space between you as he leans in to nuzzle into the curve of your neck.
“See? Bigger,” he murmurs against your skin, his breath sending a shiver down your spine.
“Not by much,” you laugh, the sound bubbling out of you before you can stop it.
VESSEL: It’s as you’re brushing on the black paint that you pause, pressing your hand against his to compare the size. There isn’t much difference, just enough for you to notice how easily his fingers curve over the tops of yours.
“Distracted?” he asks.
You hum softly under your breath, as though you’re being pulled back to reality, because truthfully, it is distracting to look at him—his hands specifically, especially when he’s wearing his rings.
“A little,” you admit with a small shrug, the corner of your mouth curving into a coy smirk.
“If you really want to compare,” his voice drops low, almost a purr as he leans in, his breath brushing against your jaw, “I can think of a better way to go about it.”
“As if you have time,” you quip back, trying to deflect and point out the obvious; he’s due on stage any minute, but the sound that leaves his throat is a low, dark chuckle.
His lips ghost along your jaw, rising higher as he murmurs, “And I’d love nothing more than to have you all over my fingers while I’m out there.”
