#limerences

[limerencesthingss]

BIRU...

Sesuai Namamu..

Suaramu membuatku tertegun mendengarmu

Terlalu nyaman dalam pikiran Sepiku

Tenang yang pecah di dalam kepalaku

Lama membuat melihatmu damai dan kagum saat suara itu terkata dari Bibirmu

Tak perlu Jauh pergi tuk melihat Ombakmu

Tak perlu lama kau membuat diriku terkagum, bukan Karismatikmu atau Parasmu, melainkan Gemuruh Suara yang terucap

Sekali lagi aku hanya ingin bertatap denganmu, mengenal Misterimu dan mendengar Tuturmu lagi.

Ya..

Semoga Semesta memberi kesempatan untuk bertemu denganmu, bukan hanya waktu singkat tapi membiarkan hari-hariku mengenalmu sampai terungkap Nama dan Misterimu.

BIRU...

[bedupolker]

Limerence & Lust: Part 2.5: Limerence & Lust get divorced

Part 0

Part 1

Part 2

Part 2.5 (here)

[comatosebunny09]

First time in a long time sex.

That yearning sex. That “I’ve pined for you for years” sex. That “I’ve missed you” sex.

Hot, heavy, sweaty. Ugly. Mouths open, panting. Raw. Unfettered. Breathless chuckles and goofy grins throughout. Intense eye contact. Groans slipping through parted, kiss-swollen lips.

Been at it for hours. No sense of time.

“Take me, take me, take me,” he praises like a mantra, the curl of his voice making your walls hiccup around him as he rubs your clit.

A hand wrapped around your throat. A thumb drawing your lip down, pushing into your mouth. Tongue jutting out to taste it.

Open-mouthed kisses, sighing each other’s names. Your nails embedding waning moons into his traps. His grip bruising, body mooring you to the bed.

He won’t let you get away—not this time. Not like you’d want to. Waited so long to feel him like this.

He pounds into you so good until you’re both soundless, yet you can’t look away. Skin slapping. The headboard smacking against the wall. Bed threatens to give way.

Like he can’t buy another one.

Tears stream down your face, and he furrows his brows. He leans down to pour every emotion he’s held back into your body with a kiss.

Your fingers twine together. Squeezing. He pants against your lips, hips stuttering. The world slides into a blissful shade of white. Toe-curling, mind-numbing, tongue-lolling sex.

I need that.

[moved-to-gottishttot]

i don't wanna work!! i wanna be kidnapped and treated like a pet!! turn me into your brainless little obsessed doll!!

[another-0ddity]

No sanity or stability here, just a delusional emotionally unstable person who feels too human or not human at all.

[terrorbeauty]

[limeartichoke]

set post-never let me go (fic)

(forgot to mention but masky is using ASL here, the exposed hand was originally intended to be drawn doing a "wasn't me" sign (or the closest translation) but i forgot completely until posting this)

[gottishttot]

' fix you '? no sweetheart. i can love you as you are. i can worship everything you perceive as a flaw until the idea that you're perfect gets burnt into your brain.

[atomeequark]

'last person I thought I'd run into here' (keeps smiling) 🗿

11/9

[raingrl8]

it was only a dream

[maybe-limerence]

What would yanderes be like with a reader with low self-esteem and who can't find herself beautiful?

My beautiful girl

Pairings/Tropes: Worshipper! Yandere (Luke) x Insecure! Fem! Darling, smut piv (F!praise, F!Switch, F!Orgasm control , F!pussyeating, M!Switch!yandere, M!overstimulation, M!dumbification)

Author Note: hey gorgeous, I’m so sorry that you feel this way. You’re beautiful no matter what you think, and I hope that this post helps you.

POST NOTES: HEADCANNONS (NSFW under the cut)

SFW HEADCANNONS:

You? Insecure? Of what?

Luke is 100% your biggest fan, he loves you so much that it hurts him physically when you talk about your insecurities

He’d rather die than say anything bad about you (he can’t even think of anything bad about you). You’re his sole reason to live, why would he hurt you?!

You aren’t able to talk about your insecurities without him talking about how much he loves that part of you and why it’s beautiful

He’s also your #1 cheerleader and hype man.

He thinks you’re so beautiful in every outfit, no matter what it is. Dressed up? Drooling. Casual clothing? Has he ever told you how gorgeous you are?Fashion different from the norm? Step on him. Pajamas? Come here, let him kiss you!

Anyone who thinks otherwise and is stupid enough to say it is killed and disposed of quickly, right after he reminds you he’s so in love with you, no matter what.

He loves you so much, he can’t help it, if anyone dares disrespect you they’re being killed in a brutal manner. They don’t deserve a good death.

Though, if you can’t still can’t see your beauty, then he’ll prove it to you

NSFW HEADCANNONS

He’s never gonna make you do anything you’re not comfortable with, especially mirror sex.

But you know what he’s always gonna do, sub or dom? Tell you how hot and sexy you are.

If he’s submissive, he’s begging you to overstimulate him, use him, make him your sex doll. You’re just so pretty, he can’t help but want you to use him.

When he’s submissive and his brain goes to mush, he’s still babbling how gorgeous you are and how much he loves you

If he’s dominant, he’s forcing you to say positive affirmations while he eats you out. You don’t want to? Guess who’s not coming!

When he’s dominant, he’s praising you. From how good you taste to how good you feel to how gorgeous and pretty you are for coming and being good.

[bedupolker]

Limerence & Lust: Part 2, Limerence and Lust practice self care

Part 0

Part 1

Part 2.5

[comatosebunny09]

carpe noctem [ preface ] | sylus

— summary: whatever they have is cosmic. which is why you quietly bow out, thinking you never stood a chance. — cw: reader is not mc, assassin!reader, unrequited feelings, mentions of burned bodies, mentions of blood & injuries, jealousy, stream of conciousness, mdni — notes: shout out to @alfredosaws, @cheshireworld, and @midiplier for inspiring this! thank you for reading! here's a playlist to keep you entertained! edit: part 2 can be found here. — now playing: abracadabra - brown eyed girls

“Did you see that?!”

A smirk crooks your lips. 

You watch the source of excitement in your periphery, her mirth infectious. You pat the space between her shoulder blades, the other hand stuffed in your pocket, pride swelling in your chest. The SUV eases into focus, a sleek outline of black, haloed by the sun’s deceptively innocent glow.

“I did.”

Her eyes brighten like stars shining in the inky night. She punches at the air—a reenactment of the moves she displayed during your scuffle inside the warehouse. It burns a pretty blend of orange and yellow behind, flames licking a cyan sky, smoke billowing from squealing metal. Carnage you left behind after a deal gone sour, structure and bodies turned to cinder, courtesy of one nefarious mafioso with a bomb fetish. 

She flexes her bicep, fixing you with a grin that’s all canines. “I was pretty badass, huh?”

You quirk a brow, quietly giving her props. 

A chuckle erupts from behind you both. You don’t look back. His presence is ever-looming. Imposing, towering over your shoulder, oozing smugness. 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, kitten.” 

He says it to humble her. To keep her head from overinflating, but you don’t miss the affection surfing in the undercurrents of his voice. It always lives there when he chides her. 

You can’t blame him. She’s come a long way: Ms. Hunter. 

Initially, she feared being roped in with the lot of you. Rejected the lifestyle of doing very bad things to equally bad people. She eventually found her niche, and you unconsciously took her under your wing, treating her like something of a sibling—a friend.

You knew she wasn’t going anywhere any time soon. Sylus made that clear. Cryptic as ever, forcing her onto you, refusing to tell you everything. Only that she owed him a debt, and he brought her around to collect.

At first, you despised the arrangement. She was a thorn in your side, the bane of your existence. Her very presence threatened the hodgepodge life you constructed with your makeshift family—Luke, Kieran, Mephisto, Sylus.

She was too nice. Reckless. Too self-righteous, where you were calculative. A manipulator, a killer. Your hands dripped red while hers were delicate as orchid petals. But she had Sylus wrapped around her finger—a feat you struggled to conquer for years. The man was playing Kitty Cards and sneaking plushies into the manor, for crying out loud. Besides, you couldn’t deny how she squirmed her way through the fissures of your own heart, nestling between atriums and ventricles like she’d always belonged there. 

You found yourself quietly rooting for them—your big, bad wolf of a boss and his precious little lamb. The affection blooming between them was palpable, like datura petals drifting in an errant breeze. Though an official title never revealed itself to you, you sensed whatever bond they shared was cosmic. Something you couldn’t touch or disrupt no matter how hard you tried. So you wordlessly conceded, bowing out of a competition you constructed in your mind. 

You were content with protecting her. Showing her the ropes, knowing in the back of your mind she would one day replace you. You were slowly becoming old news, no longer the center of Sylus’ orbit. It was fitful, but it was nice to see him smile like that for a change. To see this side of him, smitten with his defenses buried beneath the rubble, and you supposed that was enough for you. 

At least this way, you could remain by his side. Fulfill your own obligations, continuing to serve him, even if it means watching the world you’ve grown so accustomed to slowly fall away from your feet. 

“You did a good job,” you say, disrupting the slurry of your thoughts, a fond hand ruffling her hair, eyes creased at the corners. 

You usher the hunter into the passenger seat of the SUV. She’s still buzzing in the aftermath of your fight as you shut the door, a chuckle roiling in your chest. You turn to ease into the backseat, but Sylus is there, wearing that customary smirk, holding the rear door open for you instead. 

“You both did well.”

The look you toss at him is suspicious. Raised brows and a sardonic curve to your lips. There’s more to his praise than he lets on, handing it out like a rare bouquet, usually reserved for her. Sylus merely shrugs, feigning innocence, his intentions shielded behind dark lenses. You ease into the chilled leather seat, the swell of noise from the fire traded for Ms. Hunter animatedly recounting the day’s events when the door shuts beside you.

You lapse into monotony, watching plumes of smoke fade in the rearview mirror as the three of you ease onto the highway. Sylus’ hand is tight on the steering wheel. Long, spindly fingers wrapped around coarse leather. His voice is bold like black coffee, warming your innards on a wintry day, as he and Ms. Hunter exchange words you can’t be bothered to follow up front. Occasionally, scarlet eyes catch yours in the mirror. It’s as if he’s keeping tabs on you, ensuring you’re still here. Like you’re poised to tuck and roll out the backseat, driven by how comfortably they speak with each other.

Physically, you’re present. Mentally, you’re drifting off. Watching power lines skate by, blurring with the skyline and mountains as the vehicle slides downhill. Maybe you’re more exhausted than you initially thought. You’d taken a hit or two in the fray earlier. Have blood speckling the ivory collar of your shirt, a scrape lining your jaw, and you’re sure you’ll have pretty splotches of blue and purple staining the corner of your mouth come tomorrow. 

Pain is usually an afterthought. You’re so used to shielding, so accustomed to recklessly throwing your body around, and the adrenaline’s ebbing, making way for the dull throb of a migraine and sleepiness dangling like sandbags from your upper lids. You lean against the door, propped on your elbow, temple roosted on swollen knuckles. You blink slowly, your heart beating steady until the scenery beyond the window makes way for darkness. You won’t be at the hotel for another hour. A little catnap won’t hurt. 

Before you fully relinquish yourself to the pretty girls of sleep, an enthusiastic voice peels through the inkiness. Static against a violet backdrop, tugging a quiet smile onto your lips. Ms. Hunter.   

“We should celebrate!”

We should, you muse, sinking below the shadowy depths of sleep, lured there by the bumping of the SUV against the road and Sylus fondly teasing the source of your envy.

masterlist | conflict

[pyunyrage]

I'd bleed for you...

would you bleed for me, too?

[bullet-ant]

avpd/szpd culture is experiencing "love" more like a reptile would--in the sense that you are familiar to me and I appreciate you, however I cant feel any deep emotional connection to you.

[grandturtleperson]

"Limerence" by Beth Cavener, 2017, stoneware & mixed media, 44x22''