PLEASE SOMEONE 😭😭😭😭

daisuke gives me so much Tyler the creator energy, and i also think he would be a big fan of Tyler 💯💯

and what the FUCKKKKKK DO Y’ALL KNOW ABT THIS DAMN TIKTOK EDIT.

“maybe in another universe we get our happy ending”

the other universe:

I... Absolutely adorable Scott Summers with my entire heart. I need to ask you since I'm a fan of your other work. How do you think he'd deal with a bratty reader/team member?

mdni (18+); cw: smut, brat taming, oral sex (f receiving), overstimulation

hmmmm... so i think when you start dating scott, the first time you get bratty he's confused. like he does not understand that you're trying to provoke a reaction out of him and get freaky. so instead he tries being amicable and working towards a solution.

but you don't seem to want it. there's only so much he can take. after a few too many rolled eyes and stamped feet, he snaps. he grabs one of the arms crossed over your chest, making you stand normally before looking at you and simply saying "enough."

it's just one word, but he says it in the same tone he uses when he gets frustrated on missions. he speaks in a way that the intensity of his gaze stings you from behind the red lenses of his sunglasses.

after that, your demeanor shifts. no longer are you prodding at him. rather, you're pouty. and that's when he starts to understand. he realizes you're not upset about whatever you got snippy about. you're just frustrated in general and want to be put in your place.

and from then on, scott really steps into the role of taming you.

when you brat out, he doesn't play around and engage with you. while i think someone like logan would be more direct with punishments, scott can play the long game. he has the patience, and he uses it.

instead of giving you what you want, and carting you off to your room, scott will just ignore you. he'll tell you that the two of you can discuss how you're feeling when you can do so like a mature adult. at first that only gets you more upset, but before long, your lip is wobbling and your eyes are glossy. you're coming to him, holding his arm and nuzzling his bicep.

"scott, i'm sorry," you whimper as the two of you walk back to your room.

he glances down at your pleading eyes and tries not to smirk. you acted so tough, but you're so easy to break down.

"are you now?" he asks monotonously.

you nod quickly, eager to prove to him that you can behave. the two of you go into your shared room where he takes a seat on the bed and you stand in front of him.

"have anything to say for yourself then?" he asks.

"i'm really sorry, sir," you say, throwing on the title for some extra points. you step closer to stop between his thighs. "'m sorry for giving attitude and calling you a dick."

he chuckles and tilts your chin up. "yeah. that wasn't very nice was it, baby?" he teases.

you shake your head, eyes still cast down.

"you're lucky i can be so forgiving then, aren't you?" he says.

and again, you nod.

once you've acquiesced and admitted your wrongdoings, that's when he moves into the part of the punishment you craved all along. it's the part where he spreads you out on the bed and takes residence between your thighs, overstimulating you to tears with his fingers, tongue, or cock. whatever he feels like.

your legs wrap around his head while your back arches off the mattress. you part your lips in a silent scream as your third release tears through you. your hips buck wildly, but he does his best to hold them in place. he keeps you nice and steady because through all of this, he never stops sucking on your poor, puffy little clit.

you whine and squirm, starting to push at his head to find some reprieve, but he won't let up. tears roll down your temples while spit collects around wet sobs.

"scott..." you choke out as your legs quake violently, "can't... can't do it... too much."

"it's not too much," he chides once he pulls himself off your cunt. he licks a broad stripe over the sticky expanse before pumping his fingers into your dripping entrance.

more tears pour from your eyes as another cry erupts from your mouth. you nod wildly. "yes it is. it's- it's- oh my fucking god," you sob.

"it's what? it's what you wanted?" he taunts, "you were begging for attention so badly earlier. i thought you'd enjoy yourself."

you part your lips to respond, but only a squeak comes out. your hips roll as he curls his fingers with in and brings you to a fourth peak.

your words become babbled and drool leaks from your mouth in the haze. he grins at your fucked out state and keeps sliding his fingers back and forth.

"that's right. you don't need words, sweetheart. you never use them anyways. you always jump right ahead to having an attitude," he mocks.

all you can mumble in response is his name on repeat. your eyes screw shut. a few seconds later, you finally get a small break. it only last a few seconds though because you come to realize the brief pause in his actions was only so he could position himself with his cock at your entrance.

"it's ok though. we'll get all those big feelings worked out so you can go back to being a good girl for me again," he says.

it's the last thing you hear before he slides in and everything in your world explodes into white hot pleasure.

Kiss-kiss

stealing graham's glasses at abbey road studios you are notttt paul mccartney

Daisuke's one got me weak omfg 🫦🫦🫦

𓇻 ft. tulpar crew x gn reader

𓇻 request. the crew's reactions to walking in on reader touching themselves.

𓇻 content. 18+ content, minors dni. potential second hand embarrassment, reader is gender neutral (no genitalia specified), getting caught, masturbation, semi-public masturbation.

𓇻 enjoy! feel free to like, reblog, or send in asks!

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ Masterlist ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎Part Two: walking in on them

By all accounts, Curly is a respectable captain. He respects boundaries and doesn't cross the line. He's the captain, after all. Not having locks on the door is a safety issue, he knows. Just as he knows to knock. It just wasn't on his mind; he needed your help with something and you're technically available.

So he breezes right in, words on his lips and - there you are.

Holy shit, there you are. In all your lewd glory. "Oh." Then, oh. "Sorry, I'm just-" and he doesn't even finish the sentence because he backtracks and shuts the door behind him.

The thing is, that image haunts him, later. Wriggling like an infestation inside his skull. When he sees you, he acts every bit the proper superior, doesn't bat an eye. Internally, he sees flashes of skin, the way you moaned and sighed.

It leaves a lasting impression in his mind and he's so painfully aware of it. Aware of it in more ways than one because he knows nothing can come of this. It's awkward enough walking in on someone, awkward even more when everytime he knocks on your door afterwards, he's praying that you'll be nude and waiting for him.

Late at night, he remembers it, stroking himself and pressing his face into a pillow as his hips jerk, spilling himself over his fingers, wishing that it was your hands on him.

Sometimes, he wishes you'd walk in on him too.

Even Jimmy knows better than to poke through doors, especially when everybody is awake. He's never felt the need to, not with the open door policy and frankly, until this, he's only noticed you in passing.

Nimble as ever, he opens your door, irritated over something that one of the crew members had done the other day. Sometimes, he just liked to vent and rage about the injustice. You're easy to talk to, but he's never really sought you out for anything else before.

The door shuts behind him and he just stands there, previous irritation set to the backburner. Because there you are, uniform discarded and showing off your form, hand between your thighs as you nursed your arousal.

Above all else, Jimmy is a certified voyeur. He likes to watch and admire, drilling inside his head about the way your hand moves, the curve of your spine. Each individual sound. But even Jimmy has his limits.

When you're close or have already come, he slides up behind you, hot breath at your neck, thick hands skimming over your waist, to your thighs, only to settle on top of yours. "As much as I enjoy the view, pet, I'm going to take it from here." And he makes damn good no his promise.

He makes a mental note that to visit your room far more often.

Anya really just needed an answer to a quick question, relating to your latest check in to the medbay (or your duties). She knocks on the door, too softly to be heard over the sound of your activities.

It takes her an embarrassingly long time to even realize what was going on. All she sees is your huddled form. First comes the concern, her hand reaching out for your shoulder, "Are you oka-"

And you let out such a noisy sigh that she freezes. She's gotten laid before and suddenly it hits her like a truck just what she walked into because she knows what those sounds mean. Furiously backpedalling, her hand raises to her mouth. "I'm so sorry."

Quietly, she excuses herself from your quarters, ears a little red and hands shaking.

For a long, awkward time afterward, she can't even meet your eyes, even going as far as delegating the psych eval to Curly.

If you ever get injured, she performs it as meticulously as she can, her eyes tracing over every ounce of your body, trying to forget the way you moved.

Frankly, at one point, one of you would have to address what happened. But she's more than eager to ride this bumpy path until then, even if it strains your relationship with her.

Everytime she sees you that familiar, yawning ache simmers in her gut.

As much as she tried to deny it, what she walked in on affected her.

When the tension becomes too much, she finds herself sitting on her leg, grinding herself against her calf, biting the inside of her cheek as she imagines you there.

As stupid as it is, she might have maybe done it in your presence, hands trembling as she tries to keep a conversation going, desk separating you two. Other times, when it becomes unbearable, she rubs her thighs together or slides her calves against the leg of her chair, praying to god that you don't see her. (But half of her hoping that you will.)

He's been looking for you for the better part of half an hour; usually, he finds you in obscure places or with his intern, so the last place he thought to look was in your bedroom. Really, that should have been his first guess. You two were supposed to talk about something and it's been on his mind like a nagging hornet.

Sure, walking into another's room is technically frowned upon, but with all the mishaps of Daisuke barging into people's rooms (much to the disgruntlement of, well, everyone) that for a split second he didn't even consider it.

He just opens the door and - okay, so you're doing that. No wonder you were absent, so engrossed in self pleasure that you didn't even hear him stepping in.

Swansea feels too old for this, seeing your twisted figure, your cries of pleasure. So he just turns around and shuts the door, leaving you to it.

He tucks himself back into a latest project and perusing Daisuke's homework, busying himself until you're finished and in public. Not that he planned to publicly confront you about it, but because he knew everybody needed a little time alone. As small as the Tulpar was, he knew any time and space should be well spent. Even if he silently questioned your methods.

But he does bring it up. He doesn't let it slide (not like how your hands slid between your thighs and-).

Despite whatever personality conflicts you two had, he had eyes and all working parts, thank you very much. He also had needs.

Once the original topic was out of the way, he crossed his arms, expression serious when he says, "Now, it's all my doin' for bargin' in like that, but I saw something of you that I shouldn't have." He'd elaborate if he had to, "If alone time is what you're after, we've got socks for that. Toss it on your door handle and be done with it; I ain't gonna let nobody disturb ya during it."

As awkward as that conversation was, he's handled it before. He has grown kids, after all. But you're not his kid, and you're certainly grown - he's seen that. Noticed it off-hand a few times before too.

He sighs, leaning back, letting you decide when he adds, "But if release is what you're after, I know a thing or two, and I can help you with that."

All but acting like a lost puppy, Daisuke often turned to you for help in locating his missing items. Batteries, dust pan, his gameboy cartridge. (Swansea was so mad the last time he lost the screwdriver and thanked you profusely with your help locating it.) So popping in for a quick minute into your bedroom to ask for your help in locating his soap was a mindless task.

He pops in, door banging, energetic words on his lips. His brain all but sputters when your eyes connect, nude form on the bed, sprawled out, light sheen of sweat on your body, looking like a tribute straight from the gods.

Despite your hasty attempt to cover and a spew of apologies from Daisuke's lips, he can't take his eyes off you. It's like he can't even blink, so absorbed in your image that half of what he's saying doesn't make sense.

You'd have to forcibly remove him because he is rooted to his spot, unable to vacate of his own free will. He'll be banging on your door, pleading to be let back in, to talk it over. He's not sure what he wants to say - more apologies? Explain why he's there? He wants to offer help so badly.

If he's not pushed out at all, his brain ceases to function. Despite being a handsome lad, and being twenty, he's hardly been with anyone. Sure, he knows exactly what you're up to - he's done it himself plenty of times-- but all those words die in his mouth.

"Soap, I swear I'm just looking for soap," he explains, trying to rush into an explanation, the only coherent thing he can say.

He'll eventually manage to sputter, "I was going to go shower, but nowIwannaknowifyouwanttojoinme" is strewn in with "ohmygodpleaseletmehelpyou".

He's all jittery, achingly hard in his pants, wanting to touch and hear you make those sounds again. Daisuke feels like he'll go insane if he doesn't. Hands fidgeting, his fingers curl in, unconsciously taking a few steps in. He'll finally manage a coherent, "Please let me stay."