speeyider

[speeyider]

hiiiiiiiiiii i’ve never written fanfiction beforeee feel free to give critiques pls thank youu

daisuke mw x reader

(it’s not finished so don’t be too mean pls)

It's a quiet night on the Tulpar, everyone’s asleep for the night (at least from what’s displayed on the fake window) and you’re up hanging out with daisuke on the couch. You guys speak about dumb stories back home, childhood shenanigans and crazy parties during college summers and you both end up falling into a kind of haze where everything feels almost normal again. The shared bottle of mouthwash between you two could be the one responsible, but why ruin the moment with logistics? There’s a lull in the conversation and you both sit there just existing in each others company when he starts to speak about his family. He laments over his current position in life and how he wishes that it were easier. Something about supposed goals in life and plans that should’ve been made years ago that you know all too well, and you solemnly finish off the bottle, wincing at the warm astringent liquid sliding down the back of your throat. You get up, wobbly, and balance yourself (with a little too much weight) on his shoulder and he grabs you by the hips to steady you almost on reflex, quickly letting them go with a sheepish look on his face, not that you’re lucid enough to notice or care really. Mumbling something about getting another bottle you make a movement towards the corridor and he gently grabs you by the shoulders, on his feet now, and he slowly lowers you back onto the couch. You stare up at him with a dazed look on your face, and catch maybe two words of his worried rambling, too distracted by the beauty mark under his eye and how tantalizingly plush his lower lip is in the simulated moonlight. He notices your staring and in an effort to hide his nervousness cracks a joke about you being too distracted by his beauty to listen to what he just said, and either boldly or stupidly, you don’t care which, you agree. You think to yourself just how cute he is, the way his lips pursed together when he’s caught off guard, or the way his eyelashes fan out in pretty little swoops when his eyes go wide and his voice cracks when he stammers in embarrassment.

“Why are you being such a baby over a little flirting ?? I thought you were a lady killer, daisuke”

and he does nothing to defend himself, instead he sheepishly rubs the side of his neck and focuses his gaze on the discarded board game on the table

“i’m not being a baby” he pouts, “i just—“ and he trails off, clearly holding something back

you decide to go easy on him and drop it with zero resistance, “mhm,,, whatever you say baby.” you tease, taking the opportunity to stand up again and stretch until you feel a pop in your lower back, groaning in delight. The mouthwash had since soured in your stomach, taking whatever buzz there was with it, leaving you woozy, clinging again to his shoulder. You steel yourself, and try your best to give him a serious look, which seems to work,,, you think. You try anyways and in a softer tone, you assured him

“I'm not gonna drink any more, can you still walk with me though? I just wanna be somewhere quiet”

He gives you a funny look at that

“Dude it’s like,” he checks a fake watch on his wrist, “the asscrack of dawn and everyone’s passed out for the night, what do you mean you need to go somewhere quiet?”

You just stare at him blankly, not really with a message for him to read, just to stare at him.

Maybe just to get him to fold and walk into the dark emptiness of the ship, which thankfully he does.

It’s peaceful, eerie given the hollow groans and occasional clank that echoes through the halls, mostly the ship settling into its state of disrepair, but comfortable for what it is.

“Soooooooo, why are we going back here if we’re not getting more to drink? You gonna eat me or something ??”

It takes the most concentrated amount of self control from making an obvious (and quite frankly exposing) joke,

“No, and if i was i would’ve been sharing my food with you months ago to make your meat more tender”

He laughs at your dry tone, something he’s grown to love, and you both continue on talking about what the plans for tomorrow are and what repairs he’d be busy with, you’re making notes of where next to clean up and gauging the amount of potential mess. You don’t remember exactly how you managed to get this close to daisuke. You vividly remember the first few weeks of the delivery keeping to yourself, but finding good conversation with the captain. He tried his best then, you recall, to connect with the crew, almost like an overeager step-dad trying to win the trust of his stepchildren. Anya, bless her soul, was the most normal person you managed to be on good terms with, lamenting about the stupid things the men would get up to and sticking close by each other when James would be sniffing around. Swansea reminded you of your old man, which you feel that everyone else kind of did as well, but to his credit he was leagues above your father by having cool shoes and actually having solid advice for life. and then there was Daisuke.

God you hated him.

Something about his loud and ditzy frat boy attitude just irked your very being, and his wandering eyes didn’t help much either. He had the decency to be a little embarrassed when he was caught, but you’d still borderline sneer at him whenever you’d catch him. This went on for a few more months, until the ship crashed of course, essentially forcing everyone to be closer together. things were rough with the Curly, mainly for himself. The crew had long since opened themselves up to being friends with Grant after the explosion with James– the poor guy lost two people that day. He lost the person who he believed his friend was, and he lost himself in his own guilt over allowing the situation to unfold. Tensions were high, but throughout it all it seemed that Daisuke had simply been in another world, going about his days making the same jokes and references (many of such you’d rather die than admit were funny) that pissed you off, but also made you relax just a little more.

“Soooo,,,” he draws out, “why exactly are we walking back here again ??”

“Dude chill out i’m not gonna eat you”

uuhh skipping to the freak nasty part bc im lazy

im literally so embarrassed lmao

You have him on his hands and knees, forcing him to use his Hawaiian shirt as a makeshift blanket to shield your hands from the cold metal floors. His ass is up in the air and his face is buried into his arms, ears bright red from arousal and embarrassment. Water is a scarcity in the ship, so all of you guys have forgone shaving (to your lament at first but now you thank whatever fucked up god there is out there that made the water line compromised enough to prevent him from any kind of upkeep on himself). His skin is glistening and you could stare at him for hours, but you’re so incredibly turned on by his high pitched whines that you instead save the image in your head and press your hands to both of his cheeks, spreading his cute ass between your fingertips, feeding into his desperation for your touch. His hole flutters in front of you, inches from your face. you could be crushed by a loose beam right now and die happy, you think. You take a deep inhale of him, moaning obscenely at the way the sweet and musky scent of his sweat and precum fills your lungs, and greedily flatten your tongue over his hole, dragging a thick wet stripe up his crack savoring the flavor. The keen that forces its way out of his throat is barely muffled by his arms as his balls tighten from your ministrations. You repeat it, addicted to how the creases of his hole feel on your tongue and the almost heavenly ring of hair that fans out under all the layers of saliva you’ve painted onto his ass. You don’t even care about the amount of noise you guys are making, in a strange way you’re even more wound up from the thought of being caught in such a depraved state, drooling over Swansea’s precious intern and jerking him off while he’s pinned beneath you. Your eyes roll back as steady waves of arousal flush through your stomach, wetness most likely pooling through your work uniform. You could cum just like this, but his rapid panting pulls you out of your haze and you focus back on the task at hand. You remove your mouth from him and slow your strokes down, his balls pulsing from the lazy pace.

[speeyider]

uh hi so!

i wrote this webpage that walks u thru looking after yourself when you know a thought is making you spiral. deployed it publicly bc i wanted it on mobile and i thought other people might like it too

check it oot

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Streaming Service Rant

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YOU hates terfs

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Mama is best Horror movie I ever seen!

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did one for kent, so i gotta do one for dean

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like for donald trump, reblog for this piece of grass

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Academia style but make it inclusive 🦇✨🥀

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Reblog this picture of me holding a Family Size box of Honey Nut Cheerios? I’d really appreciate it.

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friendly reminder

if you support maps (pedophiles) or zoophiles, please unfollow me

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stop constantly sexualising gay men, especially teenagers, thanks

it's not just fanfiction. it's not just fan art. young mlm see that and think that's everything we're meant to be. this shit leads to teenage boys being groomed and lying about their age for hookups and thinking it's okay. just fucking stop it.

if you're a writer/artist/etc genuinely take a moment to think - do you have any work of mlm that isn't a sex scene/sexual subtext? and if you only write/draw smut and nsfw content, is it exclusively of gay men or do you do the same for other ships and pairings?

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nose job turkey

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HOW ADORABLE IS THIS KITTY

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what to do instead of calling the police •

here’s a thread by user a_busy_woman on twitter

„take a community class on how not to call the cops and how to deescalate [...]“

all the links in the thread

handbook for alternatives to calling the police by the UUA

the abolitionist toolkit by critical resistance

a meta resource put together by Aaron Rose

deescalation webinar on YouTube by Side with Love

a starter guide resource put together by twitter users literElly, sheabutterfemme, and MicahHerskind

bail fund for Minneapolis

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so two trucks by lemon demon has a bpm of 114…