I’m So Sorry, Once More, With Feeling, Then I’m Done— Yan!Din Djarin HCs, But Focusing On When

ADHD is spending your whole life being told that you’re not doing your best and that you could do better if you tried harder and worked harder until you believe it yourself, becoming convinced that your your best work is actually only your average, and there’s a mythical, hypothetical, never-before-seen Your Best, which is surely the work of gods.

So you end up with this inflated ego and stalwart belief that you should be capable of curing cancer, discovering new planets, composing new opera pieces to take the world by storm, if you only tried harder. But for some inexplicable reason, you simply won’t put your mind and focus on it, and now you hate yourself for not being the spectacular specimen you were taught you ought to be.

And that’s why you end up having these conversations with your therapist where they are like “normal people don’t put this kind of demands and expectations on themselves”, and you dead seriously fucking answer

“Yes, but I’m not normal people.”

I am accepting requests, mostly for resident evil . Send in a ask

- ̗̀ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐓  ̖́-

𝐢 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 @dear-yandere 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬! 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦!!

𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨, 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐬! 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

✧༚︒ ࿐ཾ

𝙰 — 𝙰𝙳𝚅𝙴𝙽𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙴

𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗱𝗼 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝗱𝗮𝘆?

✧༚︒ ࿐ཾ

𝙱 — 𝙱𝙸𝙽𝙾𝙲𝚄𝙻𝙰𝚁𝚂

𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗺𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝗱𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗸 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴? 𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗱𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗴𝗼 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗶𝘁?

✧༚︒ ࿐ཾ

𝙲 — 𝙲𝙾𝙻𝙾𝚁

𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗹𝗼𝗿 𝗱𝗼𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗻𝘁?

✧༚︒ ࿐ཾ

𝙳 — 𝙳𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙼

𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗱𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴?

✧༚︒ ࿐ཾ

𝙴 — 𝙴𝙲𝙻𝙸𝙿𝚂𝙴

𝗱𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗯𝘂𝗶𝗹𝗱 𝗮 𝗿𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗿 𝗱𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗵𝗶𝗱𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗱𝗼𝘄𝘀?

✧༚︒ ࿐ཾ

𝙵 — 𝙵𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙴

𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝗵𝘂𝗿𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺?

✧༚︒ ࿐ཾ

𝙶 — 𝙶𝙴𝙽𝙴𝚂𝙸𝚂

𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗯𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺?

✧༚︒ ࿐ཾ

𝙷 — 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽

𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗼𝗺 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗼𝗻 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘆𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝗲?

✧༚︒ ࿐ཾ

𝙸 — 𝙸𝙽𝙵𝙰𝚃𝚄𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽

𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗱𝗶𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝘀𝘁 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘇𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴?

✧༚︒ ࿐ཾ

𝙹 — 𝙹𝙰𝙲𝙺-𝙸𝙽-𝚃𝙷𝙴-𝙱𝙾𝚇

𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗰𝗮𝗽𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴?

✧༚︒ ࿐ཾ

𝙺 — 𝙺𝙽𝙾𝙲𝙺𝙾𝚄𝚃

𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗱𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗲𝗼𝗽𝗹𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲?

✧༚︒ ࿐ཾ

𝙻 — 𝙻𝙴𝙼𝙾𝙽

𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗱𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗯𝗲𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴? 𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗱𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗯𝗲𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝘀? 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗺𝗲𝗮𝗻 𝗼𝗿 𝗻𝗶𝗰𝗲?

✧༚︒ ࿐ཾ

𝙼 — 𝙼𝙾𝙾𝙽𝙻𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃

𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗶𝗻𝗻𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲?

✧༚︒ ࿐ཾ

𝙽 — 𝙽𝚄𝚁𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙴

𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗱𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴?

✧༚︒ ࿐ཾ

𝙾 — 𝙾𝙰𝚂𝙸𝚂

𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗸𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴?

✧༚︒ ࿐ཾ

𝙿 — 𝙿𝙾𝙻𝙸𝙲𝙴

𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗸𝗶𝗱𝗻𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺?

✧༚︒ ࿐ཾ

𝚀 — 𝚀𝚄𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙴𝚁

𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗯𝘂𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴? 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝘀𝘁𝘂𝗳𝗳 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗴𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺?

✧༚︒ ࿐ཾ

𝚁 — 𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶

𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗽𝗼𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴?

✧༚︒ ࿐ཾ

𝚂 — 𝚂𝙷𝙴𝙻𝚃𝙴𝚁

𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗺𝗲𝗮𝘀𝘂𝗿𝗲𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗴𝗼 𝘁𝗼 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴?

✧༚︒ ࿐ཾ

𝚃 — 𝚃𝙴𝙳𝙳𝚈 𝙱𝙴𝙰𝚁

𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗮𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴?

✧༚︒ ࿐ཾ

𝚄 — 𝚄𝚃𝙾𝙿𝙸𝙰

𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗺𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝗲𝗳𝗳𝗼𝗿𝘁 𝗱𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗽𝘂𝘁 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗽𝘆?

✧༚︒ ࿐ཾ

𝚅 — 𝚅𝙰𝙻𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙴

𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗱𝗶𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗮𝗰𝘁 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝘀𝘁 𝗰𝗿𝘂𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴?

✧༚︒ ࿐ཾ

𝚆 — 𝚆𝙸𝙻𝙻𝙾𝚆

𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗺𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝗳𝗿𝗲𝗲𝗱𝗼𝗺 𝗱𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴?

✧༚︒ ࿐ཾ

𝚇 — 𝚇𝚈𝙻𝙾𝙿𝙷𝙾𝙽𝙴

𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘀𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗿𝗲𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗱𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴?

✧༚︒ ࿐ཾ

𝚈 — 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚃𝙷

𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗺𝗲𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴?

✧༚︒ ࿐ཾ

𝚉 — 𝚉𝙴𝚁𝙾

𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗱𝗼 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗹𝗲𝗳𝘁?

✧༚︒ ࿐ཾ

i'm reading "the virgin suicides" for the first time and i really liked this quote

dark dilf delinquent season cillian lusting after the new neighbors daughter; who not so coincidentally has a penchant for undressing with her curtains open 🫣 & sneaking in guys who kinda (definitely) maybe resemble cillian? from her club nights 😭

he’s dark & like kinda pathetic but we love him anyway

i feel like this is too specific but I can’t get the thought out of my head 🥲

it is very specific but I'm not mad, and I love writing a pervert <3 but a dilf AND a pervert?! yes please!! obviously I love this concept cause I went a liiiiitle overboard with it, oops...

length: 3.3k

warnings: m and f masturbation, voyeurism, slightly dark but not very much, unspecified age gap, infidelity

When it first started, he really was just trying to read. It wasn't his fault that the book was boring, or that your curtains were open, or that he caught a glance of you in your window.

It was innocent then, too— he liked watching you do normal things, like put on jewelry or laugh on the phone with a friend. It made him smile... he wasn't sure why, but it just made him feel a little better after a long day, seeing you up there, reminiscing on his younger days as he got a distant view of yours...

But it had been months since it started, and it was far from innocent now. He'd become an expert at compartmentalizing the shame; he'd become addicted to the cycle, to the watching and the waiting and the sick anticipation— not to mention the fear that someday, you'd notice him watching. The fear, and yet, the hope.

"Fuck," he panted under his breath as he wanked himself— not too fast yet, but certainly much faster than the slow and teasing strokes he liked to start off with. You were taking off your shirt, pulling it over your head and folding your arms in that crazy origami way girls do that he'd never totally understood; he bit his lip as his eyes dragged over your back, trying to imagine how it would feel to run his fingers up your spine until you arched it just right—

He heard the kids yell downstairs and he stopped for a second, heart pounding with nervousness as he feared they might come up and knock at the door. He used to only do this when they were gone... but he couldn't pass up an opportunity like this, a perfect view of you stripping in the window.

The noises stopped and his movements started again, fisting his cock with a stifled groan as you reached behind your back and undid the clasp; even having seen your tits probably a dozen times by now, his mouth was slack and dry in anticipation of you turning around and letting him see them again.

You teased him for a while longer, messing with your hair and stretching your arms up until he found himself mumbling between panting breaths: c'mon, baby, show me— lemme see, sweetheart, fuck, please...

Sort of like willing a stoplight to turn green, it's obviously not possible but it will work at some point: you turned and faced the window, your eyes shut with a sigh as you started to open your jeans. He had to grip his cock's leaking head tight just then, too overwhelmed with the view of your breasts— he was afraid to come too soon.

He'd never had to hold himself back like this before, never delayed his gratification— because, normally, it's totally antithetical to the point of masturbation. He only ever jerked off for the gratification, and he only ever watched porn to help get there a little faster... but you, you were so much better than porn. The thrill of doing something wrong, the longing of knowing you (if not very well) in real life, the lack of control over you and being, in a sense, at your mercy as you undressed as slow as you wanted... it was all just terribly erotic. And he refused to let himself come until you let him see a little more.

You slid your jeans down your legs and he actually bit his lip, just to muffle his moan. "Yes," he whispered to himself, cock pulsing in his grip as he watched you step out of them, turning around to lay them over your bed— and giving him the perfect view of your ass in those cute cotton panties as you did it. "Fuck," he grunted, twisting his hand over his tip and feeling his hips jerk instinctively— he couldn't think of the last time he was so sensitive. "See what you do to me?" he chuckled to himself— he wished you could see it, but then again, he had his lights off in the room for a reason. All you could see was a dark window, and for now, he preferred to keep it that way.

You laid back on your bed, looking relaxed and contented as you ran your hand down over yourself— fuck, is she about to--?

You slipped your hand into your panties, and he tilted his head back with a heavy sigh, only allowing himself a second to shut his eyes as his balls tightened up, threatening to blow it all right then and there. He'd never actually seen you touch yourself before— though he had seen you take a vibrator out of your bedside drawer and, infuriatingly, go to take a shower where you presumably got to use it with complete privacy. The image in his head had been plenty to get off on that night, but seeing you now as your fingers moved under the thin fabric, your lips opening for what he hoped was a quiet little moan? It was almost too much to bear.

You spread your legs a bit, the angle giving him a hint of a view of what you were doing; he sat up in the chair, leaning to the side a bit, desperate for a better look at how you were touching yourself. Were you just rubbing your clit, or were you going to put a finger or two inside? "Baby," he panted to himself, watching your tits get harder as your hand moved, "baby... y-yeah, just like that, fuck..."

The sight of you playing with yourself was just too beautiful; he had to keep reminding himself to shut his mouth so he wouldn’t make too much noise, but then it would just fall right back open again as you arched your back.  

“Feels good?” he noticed, raking his gaze over every sign of your pleasure.  “Tell me how good it feels…”

He wanted to imagine your voice, then, the way you’d respond to him: feels so good, Cill.  You’d never actually called him that, you always called him Mr. Murphy.  He tried not to acknowledge how much that turned him on, but anyways, he couldn’t conjure your voice in his head anyways.  He hadn’t spoken to you in weeks, not since you’d babysat for him and his wife… he tried not to acknowledge how much that turned him on, either.

Seemingly out of nowhere, you took your hand out of your panties and expanded your cheeks with a big sigh; he knit his eyebrows together, watching you roll over and grab your phone off of the nightstand by your bed.  His sicker side instantly assumed you were going to find some porn to watch, but your lackadaisical attitude about the whole thing made it seem more like you’d had a sudden mid-masturbation urge to check Instagram.  Kids and their phones, he thought to himself, even though you were far from a kid— he was just much, much further from one than you were, is all…

And, this should come as no surprise by now… that turned him on too.  He’d come to be weirdly fascinated by his own perversion, finding it just as shameful as he did sexy.

His phone vibrated on the desk and his screen lit up— he wasn't going to answer it at first, nothing was more important than watching you right now... but then it went off again. He looked at it and back at you, seeing you getting up suddenly and walking around the room... surely you hadn't come already? It certainly didn't look like it.

Even though he couldn't imagine why you'd stopped so abruptly, he figured it was a good opportunity to make sure the messages weren't important. He awkwardly got up and grabbed his phone, feeling a bit strange about walking around with his jeans open and his erection poking out. Unlocking his phone to read whatever was sent, he felt a massive sigh leave his chest as if the wind had been knocked out of him.

He never even saved your number, but he recognized the previous conversation you'd had-- just a few texts back and forth about a little backyard gathering your parents were having, and some question about when you needed to come over to watch the kids, but you usually messaged his wife about that kind of stuff.  But since he’d committed those brief conversations to memory, it took him only a split-second to know it was you— and, obviously, seeing that you'd just texted him, he thought his heart might just stop right then.  He had to blink some blurriness out of his vision to even read them, with how fast the damn thing was beating.

hi mr. murphy.

turn on the lamp on the desk.

He whipped his head around to look back at you, only to find you smiling around a bitten lower lip, staring right into his window.  Fuck.  Fuck!

He set his phone down, not sure what to do— and quickly locking the screen as he realized you’d probably seen the glow of it.  He groaned softly again as he watched you sit down on your bed again, facing directly towards him, those pretty legs spreading nice and slow as your hand moved over your panties again.  Fuck.

He felt like he was in a dream or something as he flipped on the lamp— maybe it was an out of body experience.  If he was out of his own body, he at least knew whose he wanted to get into: he never took his eyes off you as he slowly walked back to his chair, sitting back down in it and meeting your half-lidded gaze as you tossed your phone away and used your free hand to toy with one of your hard nipples.  “Fuck,” he said aloud this time, seeing your eyes trail down to his cock— it was still out, of course, sticking up proudly against the black shirt covering his stomach.  Maybe it was proud, but he was a little bit terrified, his face getting hot as he snatched the throw pillow nearby to cover himself with; he saw you laugh, sighing through his nose dreamily as he wished he could hear the sweet sound of it, and then shake your head with a grin.

You stood up then, turning around and bending over as you ever-so-slowly pulled your panties down, making him purr as he got a thorough look at your bare ass.  You looked too damn good bent over like that— what he would give to stand behind you, pushing your shoulders down with one hand as he gave that cute arse a good spank with the other—

He saw you looking back at him, a proud smirk on your face; “Dirty girl,” he scolded under his breath, watching you stand up straight and sit on the bed again.

Your legs were pressed tightly together, and when he look up to your eyes, he found them focusing on the pillow in his lap; you met his gaze again, a pink tongue darting gently over your lips.  A silent promise: I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.  With the way it made his heart pound and his palms clammy, he felt like a schoolboy all over again.

He grabbed the pillow and slowly moved it away, your legs opening at the same pace in perfect time with it; he groaned through a tight jaw as he stared at your pussy, one of your hands running down to spread the sticky lips even wider for him.  “Fuck,” he moaned, holding onto his cock tightly again as he felt totally helpless to the sight of it, unable to look away.  “So fuckin’ perfect,” he mumbled, starting to stroke himself as you bit your lip again and rubbed your clit with two fingers— the nails still had that baby pink polish, the one he’d watched you paint on a few nights ago.  Why was something as simple as that so sexy?

Your mouth fell open, and your head tilted back; he tried to imagine how you’d sound, your sweet voice a little darker and deeper with pleasure.  You rubbed yourself a little faster, a little harder, and he felt his lips curl into a sneer.

“Good girl, like that,” he panted, “play with it for me.  Play with that cute little cunt— f-fuck, yes—”

You looked at him again, eyes glued to his cock, and he felt it flex in his grip as if it wanted to wave to you; he saw you smile, an oddly sweet smile for something so dirty, and he watched your fingers slide down to your tiny, seeping opening.  He nodded in encouragement, watching your face fall into a shockingly innocent gasp as you slid a finger into yourself.

“Yes, baby,” he moaned, “y-yeah, s’it warm inside, sweetheart?  Bet you’re so fucking tight, baby, I know your pussy is so goddamn tight—”

You pumped the single finger in and out, head falling back for a moment, and he squeezed his cock tight again to try to hold back another close call— he’d feel pretty stupid coming so fast with you watching, but he’d been doing this a lot longer than you had… fuck, how long had you known he was watching you?

Your mouth opened wider as you pushed another finger into yourself, and his hips shifted roughly in the chair, his hand moving faster as he growled.  “Fuck, it’s not enough, is it?” he hissed.  “Two little fingers isn’t enough— you need my cock, fuck, you need my fuckin’ cock— I’d fill you so good, sweetheart, I’d be so fuckin’ deep inside you—”

He was almost bucking up into his own hand now, his whole body suddenly pulsing with energy— it was a good thing you weren’t here now, even if he wanted it more than anything: he would’ve treated you awfully if he could’ve gotten his hands on you, fucking you hard and rough, tossing you around, pinning you down… he needed you so bad, he couldn’t imagine having the patience for anything but one of those nasty, fast, rough, animalistic fucks.  He’d fucking ruin you right now, if he could.

You were rough about it, too— roughly pinching and tugging on your tits, roughly fucking yourself on your fingers… you even pulled your hand out and gave your clit a little smack at one point, and he choked on his loudest moan yet as your body jolted.

“Dirty fucking slut,” he growled, “fuck, come for me.  Please, baby, I need to come, I need to fuckin’ come—”

You were saying something, obviously he couldn’t hear a damn word of it, but the shape of your lips made him pretty damn sure you were chanting over and over: yes, yes, yes—

“Come, baby,” he begged, knowing he couldn’t hold himself back much longer, “let me see— show me how you come, sweetheart, show me that pretty face when you come on your fucking fingers— soak them, honey, come for me—”

You were shaking all over, legs quivering and tits bouncing with the force of it— you pulled your fingers out and he could fucking see it, see that cute little hole flexing, and obviously he was done for pretty much instantly.  He moaned roughly as hot ropes of come painted his shirt, rolled down his shaft and shaking fingers, one drop even finding its way down his balls which was sort of pleasantly ticklish…

You looked so gorgeous coming like that, your hand and pussy all shiny with your arousal, your eyes heavy and your lips swollen from all the biting… he blinked quickly as he tried to catch his breath, letting go of his slowly-softening cock and leaning back into the chair.  You smiled at him; funny how, even now, that could make his heart skip.  He watched you stand up and wiggle your fingers in a cute little wave at him as you approached the window, and his tired smile fell quickly when you reached for the curtains.  “N-no, don’t go,” he pleaded softly, leaning forward as if he could stop you somehow, “please, wait—”

You slid them shut suddenly, and he whined a little as he fell back into the chair, running his (clean) hand over his face as he contemplated what he’d just done.  When his phone vibrated again, he jumped up to grab it, but frowned in disappointment when he saw it was from his wife.  Be home in a few, please come help with the groceries.

He tried to type a quick reply, only to grimace when he realized how filthy his hand was.  He wiped it off on his shirt— but his shirt was filthy, too.  Sighing, he set the phone down and took the whole thing off, balling it up to toss into the hamper, leaving him in just his undershirt.

Going straight back to his phone, he opened the conversation with you, praying to see that little grey bubble pop up or something; he started to type a few times, things like will I see you tomorrow? or come over next time the house is empty, but he always felt like an idiot and ended up erasing it.  He didn’t get a chance to think of a good thing to send before he heard a car pulling up in the driveway.  Shoving the phone in his pocket, he sighed and made his way downstairs, navigating around the pillow fort in the living room to get out the front door.

“Just help me with the bags in the boot, will you?” she asked him, not even looking at him, as she rifled through whatever was in the backseat.  He opened it, sighing as he looked at them.  Nothing like a bunch of brown bags to bring you back to reality.

His eyes widened when he heard his wife say your name, and he poked his head around the car to see you standing there, wearing a zip-up and leggings.  “Good evening, Mrs. Murphy,” you smiled, and he figured he looked like a deer in the headlights— if a deer could hold a paper sack full of pasta and biscuits— as your gaze fell on him.  “Hi, Mr. Murphy.”

He opened his mouth to try to respond, but nothing really came out; “Looks like you’re going for a run,” his wife noticed, saving him for the time being as your attention turned to her again. 

“Yeah,” you nodded, “figured I could use some exercise.”

He cleared his throat, just a way to try to fight the lump forming in it, but it unintentionally caused both women to look at him again— once again, he found himself uselessly floundering for a response, and only getting out a soft ‘er’ before you said something.

“Aren’t you cold in just a t-shirt, Mr. Murphy?” you asked him, tilting your head.

“It’s fine,” he choked out, “I was feeling kind of hot anyway.”

You smiled at him, then waved goodbye to his wife as you pushed your earbuds in and continued walking down the street— you were acting so innocent that he started to feel like he’d dreamed up the whole thing.  

She probably saw him staring, watching you jog down the sidewalk, that ass looking terribly familiar covered by the athletic leggings; but she didn’t say anything, only shutting the car boot to get his attention as he finally carried the paper sacks into the house.  "She's sweet, isn't she?" she broke the moment of silence as they walked up the driveway together.

“I-I guess,” he tried to sound as non-committal as possible.

“You don’t think so?” she pressed, apparently noticing his cryptic answer.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “maybe she’s not as sweet as she looks.”

POST PLUS IS COMING, WHETHER YOU WANT IT OR NOT!

Despite the fancy survey, changes to the UI and TOS reveal we’re getting the service in the future whether we want it or not. Obviously, Post+ is a terrible idea that is trying to bank revenue on user content. Unlike patreon or onlyfans, tumblr’s primary focus is on FAN content. The legality of this is NOT in the users favor and as the new tumblr TOS states, said users will be entirely liable for whatever legal matters arise.

SO WHAT ARE WE DOING?

Besides filling out the survey, it’s time to show tumblr we mean business and show our displeasure by hitting them where it hurts.

Ad revenue.

We’re proposing a 24 hour log off as phase one of this protest.

WHEN IS THE PROTEST?

AUGUST 6th, 2021        12 am Eastern Time (US)          5 am Greenwich Mean Time          6 am Central European Time          8 am Moscow Standard Time          1 pm Australian Western Time          2 pm Japan Standard Time          3:30 pm Australian Central Time          4 pm Australian Eastern Time

AUGUST 5th, 2021

11 pm Central Time (US)          10 pm Mountain Time (US)            9 pm Pacific Time (US)

THE END TIME IS 24 HOURS FROM START TIME!!!

So no posting, no queues, no likes, and no reblogs!

WHAT IF I CAN’T/WHAT ELSE CAN I DO?

Like this post and share it AS MANY TIMES AS POSSIBLE. Use the hashtags #tumblrlogoff2021 or #postplusprotest on ANY and ALL social media.

WILL THIS WORK?

Maybe, maybe not. It’s an attempt at doing SOMETHING.

BECAUSE I’M A TIRED IDIOT, USE THIS TO DOUBLE CHECK YOUR TIME ZONE!!!!

timeanddate.com

Event Time Announcer - Log off protest 2021

Event Time Announcer shows time for Log off protest 2021 in locations all over the world. In New York it happens on Friday, August 6, 2021 a

Just an experiment. Reblog if you actually give a fuck about male victims of domestic violence and rape.

Of fucking course

What sick bastard doesn’t

this may seem outlandish.. foolish, even… but i bring you, as an offering, the concept of SCARYASS SUB YANDERES!?!?!?! i’ve had this idea in my mind for sooo long and my god it’s been driving me insane. i think it works well just because of the inherent obsessive, frightening nature of yans in the first place? it’s scary, the way they’d do anything for you. kill people for you, abandon everything they know for you, die for you. it’s terrifying. and sooo fucking hot.

specifically eddie and steve…. my god. My God. they’re both just drooling over you, and grovelling for even an ounce of your attention. whimpering and begging by your feet like dogs… its food for thought, eh?  

at first you’re scared of them. they’re always lurking somewhere, far away that they think they won’t be noticed, but they are. you know they’re there. creeping around the bushes, just out of the corner of your eye. they’re always there. changing their schedule when they don’t have any classes with you. they’re a permanent pest that’re always ogling over you. nasty ass stalkers <3. it’s even worse when you notice them beginning to team up. it was bad enough when it was just one of them cornering you, eddie offering you a spot in hellfire every day after class and steve flirting with you every chance he gets or when you stop by the family video store. but both of them? absolute menaces. 

the king and freak of hawkins?  a surprising duo! it’s unheard of. nobody would’ve ever thought of it. nobody would even believe you, and nobody does. and they have their eyes on you. watching you, following you, bothering you, and you’re just so scared. they won’t leave you alone, and nobody seems to believe you, either. they’re just so big, and you’re so small. steve’s always been strong, you know that, and you’ve seen it too. playing on the sports team, roughing around and fighting constantly, you know what he can do. and just because eddie’s thin doesn’t mean that he doesn’t have height. he’s so fucking tall. and not to mention his reputation? even before the whole chrissy incident, he’s had a reputation of being a monster with connections outside of the school. (it’s only reefer rick, but he’s not gonna tell anybody that.)

you try your best to avoid the two of them, but you can’t. not anymore, at least. one of them is always shepherding you into the other. eddie padding behind you after school, and steve always so conveniently positioned. and one day, eddie’s hounding you after school. he’s not stopping either, chatting you’re ear off. you’re not even talking back, just trying to get away from him. schoolbooks clasped tight to your chest, looking at the ground, and he’s just bouncing behind you. you don’t even realize where, and it’s dark out now, how long have you been out? 

you’re immediately snapped out of your thoughts when you hear steve. eddie’s laughing, of course he is, and steve’s cooing at you. you back up, but there’s nowhere else to go. let’s say you’re in the woods, right where eddie does all of his deals, and you have nowhere else to go. you’re trapped in between the both of them, their eyes dilated to the max, and you’re about to cry. 

they’re going to kill you. that’s your only thought, and you start to sob. you close your eyes and wait for something to happen but… nothing does? they back up and give you space. steve’s freaking out, instincts kicking in from having to watch the kids for years, and eddie’s the same, if not worse. 

they’re… pampering you. it’s weird. eddie’s on his knees, grasping at your hand and kissing at your hand trying to make you feel better- to fix his wrongs. steve’s rapidly shooting out questions, “are you okay?” “what’s wrong?” “who hurt you?”

and honestly… you kind of like it. both of the two biggest, baddest guys in hawkins reduced to simpering little idiots? it's a nice change.

Holy shit this is long as fuck. apolocheese.

A-ANON, ANON!!!!!!! YOU......YOUR BRAIN........SUB YANDERE STEDDIE + ANGELFACE.....IM ON MY KNEES.....

ok. breaking this down. the individual stalking aspect: fucking gold. you have both men constantly in your peripheral, Eddie and Steve both fighting for as much time as they can possibly spend with you, and being absolutely nasty stalkers in the process. coming home after a long day of avoiding them both and finding your drawers raided, your cassettes out of order with a couple missing, maybe even your sheets wrinkled and smelling a bit of sweat like someone's been laying in your bed.

maybe one day you walk through the halls at school one day and see Eddie with a bloodied nose, Steve with bruises around his neck and his wrists, and the two guys who usually don't even acknowledge each other are glaring daggers at each other the whole day. but when the marks fade and heal, you start seeing them get a little closer....and they often do so while watching you. when they start sharing those smarmy grins and whispering to each other as they pass by the other in the hallways, that's when you start to really worry.

and you're right, nobody will believe you. the only noticeable change is Steve flirting with you whenever he sees you at school or when you're at the video store, and you should consider yourself lucky. why don't you just go out with him? give the poor guy a chance at least, since he's so nice to you? but the people telling you that don't know how invasive he is, they don't know that you've spotted him hanging around your house late at night and seen him glare down anyone who talks to you. and they don't know that when he leans in close to whisper into your ear, the dirtiest things come out of his mouth that only you can hear. "I just wanna rip that little top off you" and "wish I could fuck you over this counter, sweetheart" and "meet me in the back and I'll make you fall in love", things that make you scurry away from him as fast and as soon as you can manage, leaving him shaking his head and smirking at the back of your head because you're so, so cute when you're playing hard to get. but obviously he needs to be a little more direct.

Eddie, at least, is slightly more believable. but he's much, much sneakier, and way more subtle about his advances than Steve. he's more of a menace--always on your heels every perceivable second of the day, running you ragged with questions and mindless chatter that you never can seem to get away from. and it's not just talk, either--he's always using his stature against you, boxing you against your locker or the picnic table out by the woods, drawing his lips close to yours like he's gonna force a kiss out of you, only to breathe softly against them as he asks you again if you'll join Hellfire. don't you wanna spend some more time with him? he'll even give you a private lesson on D&D, just for you, the cutest student in the whole school. you have to push on his chest to get him to even lean back, before you duck out of his reach and dash away, and he's too giddy from having you touch him to even worry about you getting away and telling someone he was being a creep.

and when he gets you back in the woods after school, corraling you like a little lamb towards the jaws of the wolf, Eddie can't help but have a spring in his step. he can't wait for this one.

when you see Steve waiting there by the trees, leaning against the trunk of one, you immediately back up. but you come to a stop when you hit Eddie's chest, and with a quick glance over your shoulder to make sure he's not gonna get out of the way, you turn your gaze back to see Steve approaching you and fear starts knocking your knees. Eddie holds your shoulders from behind to keep you from running, and when Steve gets close enough to lean down real close to your face, his hand on your chin, the tears spill out of you and you hiccup those choked-up words: "please don't kill me..."

the air changes almost immediately. Steve shakes his head like he can't believe you just said that, his eyes soften, and a "never, baby" escapes him. meanwhile, Eddie turns you around by the shoulders so you're facing him instead, and drops to his knees so he's tilting his head all the way back to look up at you. he grabs your wrist in a strong hand, and pulls your arm closer--and he nuzzles your palm with his face, kissing along each knuckle and all five fingertips while his other hand is braced on your thigh. Steve wraps his arms around your midsection from behind, and coos those sweet words in a reassuring tone "are you okay? did someone hurt you? sweet thing, don't have to be scared of me, okay?"

it shouldn't be so comforting, so satisfying to have them both whimpering for your approval, but it is. they'll do anything to pull that smile out of you, and as soon as they get one, they'll both relax and get even cuddlier in your presence. even though they're the ones who scared you in the first place, and they're the ones who have such an unhealthy attachment to you....but you've been suffering under their thumb for so long, would it be so bad if you took a little bit back from them? torture them a little to get what you want? that seems like more than a fair exchange for the hell they've put you through.