#the danger of limerence

[patroclusplaylist]

oh, no and other heartbreaks // daydreaming mess

[spookyeagling]

I think the fear of men is overblown and dehumanising but I will admit to keeping a little scorecard in my head for how much trouble I think any given man may cause me in the future that I update after every interaction

[valleydoli]

ʚɞ Gojo Satoru Fic Recommendations ʚɞ

J’adore (O)

Scars don’t fade (C)

August (C)

Sincerely Not (C)

Sincerely Yours (O)

Everyone’s Doll (C)

Missed Connection (C)

Confessions (O)

Confidential (O)

Violet Lights (C)

Starboy (C)

The Twist of a Knife (O)

A Dangerous Game (C)

Fate’s Gamble (O)

All I Need (C)

Baby Steps (C)

Finite (C)

Sensual Epiphany (C)

Two Lines (C)

Changes (O)

Infidelity (C)

The Fuck List (C)

In Other Words, I Love You (Dead Dove: Do Not Eat) (C)

Permanent Mark (C)

Sundered (C)

Infidelity (C)

Kick Off (O)

The Unfaithful (C)

I Still Want You (O)

Concern and Control (C)

Symptoms and Causes (O)

One Moment Was All It Took (Dead Dove: Do Not Eat) (O)

Fuck The List (O)

My Love Note (O)

As You Like It (C)

People Would Assume (C) (Dead Dove: Do Not Eat)

Break Free (O)

Limerence (O)

In Memory of You (TBD)

Motherhood and Matrimony (O)

A Fairytale Wedding (O)

Untameable Waves (please come back)

[samuelroukin]

(sorry ik you gave him an oral fixation but I do think it would be funny. "no handjob I might give massive chafing or rip ur dick off")

also explains why i rarely let him get a handy from anyone, they're just giving him the same courtesy 😌

[squidsawayfromhome]

the only way i know how to joke with someone i have a crush on is cheesey flirting or being mean to only them and thats only ended horribly for me so ive just been quiet and smile and nod you know really holding back holding my tongue but oh god what if i slip up one day i am so screwed i like her so much

[sherewrytes]

Half crazy, Toji x reader

↳ Toji Fushiguro x f! black reader

summary. You were always told by your family to stay out of trouble, get your degree, get a good job, and live a good life. Simple rules to follow. You somehow caught the eye of probably the most problematic person in your university but why did it intrigue you to find out more about him.

Toji Zenin/Fushiguro saw you for the first time strolling past him and his friends in front of the university's library. Something about you drew him in. He never saw someone like you before, focused, poised and dedicated to their degree. Always in the library or hanging out with friends, not really partying much. He wondered when curiosity would get the better of him to approach you, but he knew the life he lived would be too problematic for someone as sweet as you.

genre: heavy angst, modern au, 18+, explicit smut, dark romance,

Mafia Au, street racer au, dark romance au

Character look book

fic warnings. ooc, profanity, mental health issues, toxic relationships, cheating, explicit smut, drug use, mentions of depression + more to be updated as story progresses.

Please read with proper discretion. this is a work of fiction. all characters are written to portray roles that are necessary to the plot and are in no way a reflection of their canon counterparts.

READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION

Chapter 1: Limerence at first sight.

The late afternoon sun filtered through the trees lining the university courtyard as you adjusted your headphones, the smooth beats of SZA blending into the sharp riffs of Paramore. Your playlist mirrored your mood—calm with an edge, always somewhere between soul and rebellion. With a backpack full of architecture textbooks and your sketchpad and iPad tucked under your arm, you walked toward the library, letting the rhythm guide your steps. You were just wrapping up your first year, and architecture school was no joke. Still, you thrived under the pressure.

But as always, trouble had a way of showing up when you least expected it.

Outside the library, lingering by the steps, was a group that you had noticed more than a few times. Sukuna, Geto, Gojo, and of course, Toji. They were infamous on campus, but not because of their academic standing. Sure, they were all enrolled, but their reputation as street racers and rumored connections to something darker made them the subject of hushed whispers in the halls.

Toji Zenin—though no one called him that. He went by Fushiguro, his mother’s maiden name, and most people had learned not to ask why. Tall, broad, and intimidatingly quiet, Toji’s presence demanded attention. Tattoos snaked up his forearms, disappearing beneath the sleeves of his black fitted t-shirt, and the scar running along the left side of his lips only added to the danger in his look. His eyes—dark, sharp, and always calculating—were the kind that made you feel like he could see right through you.

You felt his gaze on you before you even looked up.

As you approached the steps, you noticed the subtle shift in his posture. He was leaned back against the wall, smoking casually, a cigarette dangling between his lips. His dark eyes flicked to you, scanning you from head to toe, but he didn’t say a word. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly, as if in amusement, before he went back to his conversation with Sukuna. His friends—Sukuna with his wicked grin, Geto with his long hair pulled back, and Gojo, as cocky as ever—were all laughing about something, their voices low and careless.

You had heard the rumors about them. Everyone had. They said Toji and his crew weren’t just street racers—they were into some shady business, underground stuff that no one could quite prove but everyone loved to speculate about. Drugs? Guns? Something worse? It didn’t matter. People talked because they didn’t understand.

But you weren’t the type to buy into that. Sure, they were rebels, but they were street racers—thrill seekers. The tattoos, the late-night races, the attitude—it was just a part of their image. The campus made up half the stories, anyway. You doubted Toji was into anything more than his cars, racing, and the occasional brawl when someone crossed him.

Besides, if they were as bad as everyone said, they wouldn’t still be walking around campus, would they?

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, snapping you back to reality. It was a message from Shoko, your best friend and the only person who really understood your love for blending R&B with punk rock.

Shoko: “Where are you? Mei Mei’s being dramatic again, come save me.”

You smirked, typing a quick reply. “On my way.”

One last glance at Toji before you made your way inside. He was still watching you—casually, lazily, like he didn’t care if you caught him staring or not. But you weren’t the kind to give it much thought. You shot him a quick look, raising a brow as if to say, Really? before heading into the library.

Inside, Shoko was already draped across your usual table, her hoodie pulled low over her face, scrolling through her phone with an air of indifference. Shoko had that effortlessly chill vibe that matched your energy.

“You look like hell,” Shoko deadpanned, pushing her hood back as you dropped your stuff onto the table.

“Thanks,” you snorted. “Long day. What’s this drama with Mei Mei?”

Before Shoko could answer, the sharp click of heels against the library floor announced the arrival of Mei Mei herself—rich girl, socialite, and the queen of unnecessary drama. Despite her extra attitude, Mei Mei wasn’t bad company, and she had an eye for design that rivaled yours.

“You’ll never guess who’s throwing a party this weekend,” Mei Mei announced, flipping her sleek hair over her shoulder as she sat down. “Everyone’s going. Even your favorites.”

You rolled your eyes. “Not this again.”

Mei Mei smirked. “Oh, come on. I saw the way he was looking at you outside. Toji Fushiguro. He’s into you.”

“Or maybe he’s just into staring,” you shot back, pulling out your sketchpad. “Either way, I’m not interested.”

Shoko leaned back, folding her arms with a lazy grin. “Yeah, sure. But you didn’t see him outside. That was more than a stare. He was practically sizing you up.”

You shrugged it off. You knew they had a reputation, and maybe Toji wasn’t the kind of guy you got involved with, but something about the way he looked at you was different. It wasn’t the typical arrogant glance guys gave you. There was something deeper, more calculating behind his eyes, and it was hard to shake.

Still, you weren’t about to get distracted. Architecture school was your priority, and you weren’t about to fall for some tattooed bad boy with a reputation for street racing. Even if there was something undeniably magnetic about him.

Mei Mei, completely unbothered by your protests, continued. “Well, he’s racing again this weekend also. Everyone’s talking about it. He’s been working on his car nonstop, and rumor has it he’s got something big planned.”

“Isn’t he always working on his car?” you muttered, but your curiosity was piqued. You weren’t into racing, but you had a weakness for fast cars. Maybe you’d go check it out. Just to see what the fuss was about.

Later that night, as you lay in bed, your thoughts drifted back to the way Toji had looked at you. He didn’t seem like the type to be bothered by what people said about him. Maybe that’s what intrigued you

his absolute indifference to the rumors. He moved through life on his own terms, tattoos, scars, and all.

And even though you knew better, even though you told yourself you weren’t interested, there was a small part of you that wondered what it would be like to peel back the layers of Toji Fushiguro—the street racer, the rebel, the mystery.

Toji’s POV:

The late afternoon sun did little to warm the creeping cold that always seemed to settle in his bones. He leaned back against the stone wall near the library steps, cigarette lazily hanging from his lips, its smoke curling into the sky in languid, careless trails. The day had been uneventful—Sukuna talking shit as usual, Geto and Gojo cracking jokes, the usual banter. But today, his mind was elsewhere, distracted, until you appeared.

He noticed you long before you saw him. Always did. There was something about the way you moved, headphones on, shoulders squared against the world, that caught his attention more than he'd ever let on. Your steps had a rhythm, a flow that matched the music he imagined pulsing through your veins, always somewhere between chill and fire, like you could flip a switch and become someone entirely different at any moment.

He took a slow drag from his cigarette, eyes narrowing as they trailed over you. You didn’t even flinch when you spotted them—all the rumors, all the warnings about him and his crew didn’t seem to faze you. That’s what set you apart from the rest. You didn’t cower, didn’t whisper behind your hand like some scared little thing. No, you always met his gaze, challenging without a word.

A smirk tugged at his lips as he caught your eye. Just like that, you were in his head, and he hated it. Hated how your presence, with your books and your sketchpad and your headphones, could unnerve him. Sukuna said something to him, but it barely registered. His focus was locked on you.

“Yo, Toji. You even listenin’?” Sukuna’s voice cut through his thoughts, followed by Geto’s low chuckle.

Toji flicked his cigarette to the ground, crushing it beneath his boot. “I heard you.”

“Right.” Sukuna’s grin was sharp, knowing. “You’re lookin’ like you wanna eat her alive.”

Toji’s jaw tightened. “Mind your own.”

“Touchy, touchy,” Geto chimed in, eyes following Toji’s line of sight. “She’s not like the others, huh?”

Toji shot him a glare, but the truth of it gnawed at him. No, you weren’t like the others. You didn’t fall for his reputation or melt under the weight of his gaze. You didn’t belong in his world. Hell, you probably had no idea what went on behind the scenes—just whispers, rumors, shit that wouldn’t even scratch the surface of what his life really was.

Racing? That was just the tip of the iceberg. The adrenaline was addictive, sure, but that wasn’t all he was into. Not by a long shot. And you? You were too…clean. Too good to get involved with someone like him.

But it didn’t stop him from wanting to drag you into his world.

He cracked his neck, trying to shake off the frustration that tightened his chest. You didn’t belong in his thoughts, but there you were, taking up space anyway. He shouldn’t be thinking about how you’d look in his car, watching him race. Shouldn’t wonder how you’d feel against him, under him, around him. Fuck, the thought was enough to make him run a hand through his hair, frustration brewing under the surface.

“She got a boyfriend or something?” Gojo asked, grinning like he knew what was about to happen.

Toji’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing.

“Just kidding,” Gojo said, laughing. “You look like you’re about to bite someone’s head off.”

Toji didn’t say anything, just stared at the spot where you had disappeared. It didn’t matter if you were seeing someone. Hell, it didn’t matter what you thought of him. If he wanted you, he’d have you. Simple as that. And from the way you’d glanced at him, quick but telling, you weren’t entirely indifferent, no matter what you told yourself.

He knew your type. You were the kind who thought you could play it safe, keep your head down, focus on school. But he saw the way your eyes flickered with curiosity when you thought no one was looking. The way you lingered on the edge of trouble, intrigued by the things that scared you.

Toji’s phone buzzed in his pocket. His eyes finally left the library door as he checked the message.

Shui K.: Race this weekend. You in? Heard you’ve got a new setup. Big pot, Fushiguro. Don’t fuckin’ miss it.

He smirked, shoving the phone back in his pocket. This weekend was going to be something else, alright.

He had been working on his car for weeks, tweaking things, perfecting the engine. He was ready to make waves, to leave everyone in the dust. Maybe you’d be there, watching from the sidelines, pretending like you didn’t care.

But he’d know the truth.

And when the time came, you’d be more than curious.

You’d be his.

Saturday arrived before you knew it, bringing with it the familiar tension of anticipation. You and your friends had shown up early, staking your spot near the race line before the crowd thickened. The industrial district was already humming with energy—the low roar of distant engines, bass-heavy music pulsing through the air,

and the unmistakable scent of burning rubber. You were surrounded by groups of spectators, all buzzing with excitement, but your mind was elsewhere.

You hadn’t seen Toji yet, but you knew it was only a matter of time. The memory of his piercing gaze the last time you locked eyes was enough to set your heart racing. He had a way of pulling you in without even trying, and tonight felt no different.

Suddenly, the roar of engines cut through the crowd's chatter. Heads turned as a pack of cars approached, their engines snarling and tires squealing in an almost choreographed display of power and control. Even before they appeared,

you knew exactly who it was. You could feel the shift in the crowd’s energy, a mixture of awe and envy rolling over the spectators.

First came Sukuna’s blood-red Chevy Camaro. The car was unmistakable, with its custom paint job gleaming under the dim streetlights and red neon lights glowing beneath it, casting an eerie glow on the asphalt.

Sukuna, with that devil-may-care smirk, rolled in with one hand on the wheel, his other arm hanging lazily out the window as if the world revolved around him. He revved the engine, causing a collective murmur from the crowd.

Next, Geto arrived in his 1999 yellow and black Nissan Primera GT, green neon lights cutting through the night like a warning. He pulled off a flawless doughnut, causing the crowd to erupt into cheers and groans. Geto, always laid-back, shot a grin through the window, nodding to the crowd as if he knew they couldn’t help but watch.

Gojo’s baby-blue Mazda RX-8 followed, sleek and custom-built with neon lights to match.

The music blaring from his sound system thumped through the crowd, matching the energy of the moment. His grin was wide, playful, and arrogant as always, revving the engine in sync with the others.

Even though the car was smooth, there was a cockiness to the way Gojo maneuvered it, showing off without ever needing to say a word.

Finally, the deep, resonating growl of Toji’s custom black 1979 Dodge Charger filled the air. The car was a beast, its white neon lights glowing against the dark asphalt like something out of a movie. Toji didn’t need to show off with tricks or fancy moves

his presence alone commanded the crowd’s attention. He pulled up slowly, letting the Charger’s low growl speak for itself. With a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips, his eyes surveyed the crowd before landing, inevitably, on you.

For a brief moment, your gazes locked, and that familiar jolt shot through you. Toji, as always, was silent. His stare was intense, full of a tension that had been building between you for weeks, if not months.

His friends must have noticed it too because the way they looked at him told you they were aware of exactly where his attention was.

Sukuna chuckled, taking a long drag from his cigarette before exhaling the smoke into the air. “Man, he’s been staring at her all night. If you’re gonna keep doing this, at least make a move,” he teased, his voice loud enough to carry across to you.

Geto leaned back against his car, lighting a joint, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Seriously, Toji. What’s the plan? You just gonna keep burning holes into her with your eyes or actually talk to her?”

Gojo, always one to stir the pot, rolled his eyes dramatically. “At this rate, I might make a move for you. She’s been standing there waiting for something—maybe not you, though.” He grinned mischievously, the teasing lilt in his voice making the others laugh.

Toji ignored them, his expression unreadable as he took a slow drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling lazily around him. His eyes never left you, even though he didn’t take a single step in your direction.

You could feel the heat of his stare, the intensity of it, but he stayed where he was. That was Toji—always watching, never approaching. It was as frustrating as it was intoxicating.

On your side, Mei Mei, who had been watching the whole thing unfold, nudged you sharply. “Are you two just going to stare at each other all night? Seriously, Y/n, make a move or something.”

You felt your face flush. “What? No, I’m not—he’s the one who—” You sputtered, but Mei Mei just smirked, clearly enjoying your discomfort.

“Right,” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “And I guess you’re just staring at the floor, huh?”

Another one of your friends, Nobara, chimed in, laughing. “It’s like a bad teen romance or something. How long are you two going to keep doing this? Just go over there and talk to him, Y/n. You know he’s not gonna come to you first.”

Shoko just looked at you from the side of her eye and said "Please be for real."

You bit your lip, torn between the obvious tension and the stubborn refusal to make the first move. There was something maddeningly frustrating about Toji, but that was part of the pull. You both danced around each other, neither willing to close the distance, but neither able to walk away.

Across the lot, Sukuna and the others continued to heckle Toji, their laughter echoing in the space between you. “You know,” Sukuna called out, loud enough for both of your groups to hear, “this is getting a little sad. If neither of you is going to do something, maybe we should!”

Toji shot him a look, but he remained silent, jaw clenched. The tension between you two had reached the point where even the people around you were getting impatient, but still, neither of you moved. It wasn’t stubbornness—it was something deeper, a tension that felt like it would snap the moment one of you made the first move.

And yet, as frustrating as it was, there was something thrilling about the unspoken connection. The way Toji watched you with that quiet intensity, like he was waiting for the right moment to pounce. It kept you on edge, unsure of when the stalemate would end but knowing that when it did, it would be explosive.

For now, though, the night stretched on, with both your friends and his laughing at the spectacle you two were making. But underneath the teasing, the tension simmered, undeniable and unbreakable.

One thing was for sure: tonight, wouldn’t be the night the tension broke. But with every lingering glance, every unspoken word, you knew it was only a matter of time before one of you finally made a move. And when that happened, you had a feeling everything would change.

Next

[call-sign-shark]

Echo of Shadows || Masterlist

Pairing: The Darkling x Heartrender!OCreader || Alina Starkov x Heartrender!OCreader || Malyen Oretsevx HeartRender!OCreader

Summary: "They called her the White Plague, a saint or a monster—but she was neither, only destruction wrapped in a pretty bow."

In Ravka's frosty heart, the legend of the White Plague spreads—a woman with snow-white hair, frozen-fire eyes, and powers that rival those of Jurda Parem. Once a slave in the Menagerie, the one who calls herself Heaven is now a myth, either leaving towns in ruins or former disease-ridden people crying with gratitude. A Sankta.

General Kirigan's interest soon turns dark and his desire obsessive. Never had he been so captivated and haunted by someone. Someone he could finally share his eternal life with. Caught in a cruel game of power and love, she's torn between Kirigan’s corrupting passion and Alina Starkov’s promise of freedom.

Amidst the chaos, one question arises: will she become a savior, a monster, or something far more dangerous?

TW: Explicit sexual content, slow burn, borderline consent, heavy pinning, toxic relationship [manipulation, obsession, extreme jealousy, controlling behavior], graphic sexual description, graphic depiction of murder and torture, blood!kink, size!kink, reference to past SA and child SA, dark romance & mad romance trope, ambiguous relationship with Alina. This story is brutal, bloody and rated +18.

ACT I: A BURNING LIMERENCE

1. Keep Moving, Little Girl

2. Their Frozen Shackles

3. The Court of Shadows

4. The Fear Within

5. Beneath his Watchful Eyes 🔞

6. A Dance of Puppets part 1.

7. A Dance of Puppets part 2.

8. Gazed Into the Abyss…

9. Burn Your Village

10. ... The Abyss Gazed Back Into Me 🔞

11. All I've Ever Wanted. 🔞

ACT II. RAPTURE OF THE DEEP

12. Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Light

13. Blinding Light

14. It's in Our Veins

15. Your Darkness Flayed 🔞

16. After the Storm, the Sun

17. Safe in the Dark 🔞

18. Paint Me Black 🔞

19. Golden Cage for a Pretty Bird

20. Your Heart, My Chains

21. To the Core

ACT III. THE CALL OF THE VOID

22. The Assasymphony

23. Never You

24. Barbwire Kiss🔞

25. It Has Always Been You 🔞

26. I'm Not Ruined. I'm Ruination.

27. Swan Song

28. Your Love is an Open Wound 🔞

29. The Mask of the Red Death

30. The Starless Saint of Broken Hearts

31. Symphony of Our Ruins

32. Epilogue: Eternal Eclipse

ONE SHOTS

Much Ado About Jam Toasts- fun & fluff

Away From the Deep Shadow

Happiness Therapy - modern AU, fluff

Folie À Deux - modern AU, fluff

A Rose in the Corridor - modern AU, fluff

Friend and Festivities - modern AU (by the wonderful @justrainandcoffee )

MOODBOARD

Light in the Dark

ASK

Modern!Aleksander x Heaven for Christmas

Notes:

☾ I haven't read the books so this work is based on the TV show even though I know it's fairly different from the original Grisha verse. If you're an adorable lore psycho, you might not want to read that! :(

☾ Taglist: @lunawants , @emtaz-art, @lightinbug, @kmc1989, @thepassionatereader @mystic-mara @m-riaa @kallista-diune @meadows5 @kasagia

[wildechildwrites]

Limerence

Looney Tunes Part Three

Konig/Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: 18+, Masturbation, romcom antics, may make you kick your little feet.

No use of Y/N

Summary: You and König have dinner together. He thinks about you in the shower.

A/N: I'm alive! sorry about the delay. I promise you'll fuck in the next chapter

AO3 Link: Looney Tunes

König responds to your usual greeting with a grunt, eyes flickering down to you. He’s in fatigues again, covered in what is definitely blood, filling the elevator with the smell of iron and sweat. You can read the tension in his shoulders, the way he slumps into himself. A wave of sympathy washes over you. 

“König,” your voice surprises both of you, and you clear your throat. “You look… tired.” 

He gives you a shrug and a noncommittal noise. He helped you carry your groceries, and he got that light in the parking garage fixed for you. Favors are not weird. You press on.

“Why don’t you go clean yourself up and I’ll make you something to eat?” you say shyly. “Not cereal. If you tell me your apartment number I can bring it up to you?” 

The soft look in his eyes is almost worth the panic you feel when you get back to your apartment and realize you don’t have anything in your fridge. You throw together some pasta, mentally cursing yourself for never buying fresh parmesan. 

König lets ice cold water run over him, blood circling the drain. Even with the chill, his dick stands at attention. He curses into the silence, fighting a losing battle against his self control. You’ll be here soon, sharing a meal, all alone with him. He’s been so good. So patient. 

 You were completely unaware of the grasp you had on him, inconspicuous words branding themselves into his brain and bringing him to his knees. 

König wants you, wanted you ever since that first interaction. You seemed so unafraid of him, unaware of how easily he could snap your pretty neck. Your survival instincts could use some work, so clueless to his shadowy presence behind you, overly friendly when everyone else was running scared.

You were adorable. Delectable. Stumbling into him, wasting your breath on whatever silly thought popped into your head. Letting him barge into your life without complaint. He wonders if you'd let him inside of you with just as much ease. 

Doubtful, with how big he is.

His grip around his dick is so tight that it's painful, but he fights on, eyes scrunched tight, imagining how tight your pussy must be, bucking into his hand. He'd have to stretch you open first, make you cum on his fingers before he could even think of fucking you.

You’re looking up at him, eyes dewy, lips parted as he slams his hips against yours. You gasp every time he’s fully inside you, crying out and digging your nails into his back as his cock drags against your g spot.

"Sei leise häschen, you don't want the neighbors to hear." he coos down at you, dick throbbing when you whine in response. 

In the aftermath, he feels dirty, shame curdling his desire. 

You were so sweet. He could imagine you right now, humming in your kitchen, making dinner for him. König washes himself quickly, his traitorous mind still full of the thought of you. 

Something about you, so light and ridiculous, brings him to the brink. He had never intended to kiss you that night. You had been far too drunk, but something about holding you in his arms had made his cock rock hard and his reason desert him as you blinked up at him, confused and a little frightened. You had tasted better than he thought you would, so warm and soft, melting into it, and he had wanted to eat you. 

He pushes down the memory of the way your lips felt on his when there’s a knock on the door. 

The door to König’s apartment swings open, and you make eye contact with the muscular planes of his still damp torso, laced with scars and bruises. Your traitorous eyes follow his happy trail down to the sweat pants sitting dangerously low on his hips before you’re able to catch yourself, face burning as you snap your head up to look at him. 

“Sorry häschen, I lost track of time,” König says carelessly, pulling the t-shirt in his hand over his head. You exhale quietly, your thoughts an incoherent screech. The t-shirt does nothing to hide his form, stretching across his pecs, his biceps bulging. He smells amazing, something cleanly masculine, and your head swims at the proximity. He smiles at you in his odd, crooked way, and looks down at the dish cradled in your hands. 

“What did you cook for us?” He asks.

“Uh…” God, you’re articulate. You look down at the pasta, trying to pull yourself together. “I just threw together some ziti. I hope it’s okay.” 

“I am famished, I’d be happy with cereal.” He steps aside, and you get your first look at his apartment. The set up is similar to yours, everything in the same place, but his is bare. The furniture is nice, all blacks and grays, but there’s nothing on the walls, not even a tv in the living room. A bookshelf is the only real sign of life, filled to the brim with books. You make a beeline for the kitchen, placing the hot dish on the stove. 

“Where do you keep the bowls?” you ask, reaching up to open one of the cupboards. König soundlessly enters the kitchen behind you, and he crowds in close enough for you to feel the warmth of his body as he grabs the bowls from the top shelf. Between this and the way he touched your face the last time you saw him, you wonder if he’s purposefully fucking with you. 

He sits an appropriate distance away from you on the couch, which gives you enough room to start having coherent thoughts again. You study him as he wolfs down the food, vindicated when he finishes an entire bowl and helps himself to more. There are dark circles under his eyes, and the tracing of some ugly bruises forming on his knuckles.

“Rough day?” you ask. He sighs, leaning back, head thunking softly against the wall. You watch his adam's apple move up and down as he swallows. 

“You have no idea.” he finally murmurs, his eyes slipping closed. 

You take a private moment to admire the contours of his face, the jagged, slightly crooked set of his nose, the light scars littering his skin. Your eyes trace down his long neck to his collar bones, and you stop yourself from lingering any lower. That was a dangerous game to play. You break out of your indecent contemplation, rising to your feet and taking the empty bowls to the sink.

“Come back here,” König’s voice has a petulant edge to it, his eyes are open again, tracking your movements. He pats the couch next to him, and you tentatively move to sit down, trying to give him space. You don’t want to overstep. He lets out a huff, one large arm reaching for you, pulling you towards him, crushing you against his chest. You squeak in surprise, and he loosens the grip he has on you slightly. You lay your head on his chest. His heartbeat is loud against your ear. 

The room is dark when you wake, König’s voice rumbling in your ear, “Wake up, little one.” 

You’re groggy, and disoriented, trying to familiarize yourself with your surroundings.

“What time is it?” Your voice is scratchy from sleep. There’s a dim light coming from the bedroom, and your eyes slowly adjust.

“It’s almost midnight. You’ve got to scurry back to your hole, häschen,” König says, but he’s still got his arms wrapped around you, trapping you against his body. “Or maybe I just won’t let you leave,” his voice is almost playful, but there's a dissonant chord to it. You wiggle against his grip, and after a beat he releases you, allowing you to stand. 

“M’sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” you say with a yawn. You pat your pockets to make sure you’ve got your keys and phone and head towards the door. König trails behind you. When you hesitate at the door, you’re struck with deja vu, the similarity of last night. 

“Thanks for dinner,” he says softly. You smile up at him, then steel your nerve. In a quick motion, you raise yourself up on your tiptoes, grabbing the collar of his shirt and bringing him to your level. You place a quick kiss on his lips and try to pull away, but he stops you, wrapping his arms around you, dragging you in for another kiss. His mouth is warm against yours, hungry and insistent, and you let out a gasp when he nips your bottom lip. When he pulls away, his pupils are dilated, his cheeks flushed. You both stare at each other breathlessly. 

“You’ve got work early,” he says, his voice low. “I’d hate to keep you.” 

You’re suddenly self conscious, hyper aware of the soft dismissal. He’s not wrong, but you wanted him to want you to stay. “Have a good night, König,” you murmur. He softly kisses your forehead, and you creep out the door. 

You can feel his eyes on your back all the way to the elevators.

○○○●●●○○○●●●○○○

Taglist

if you want to be tagged for the update let me know in the replies.

@whos-fran @crazy-phan-girl13 @rebelatbay @kaeriustehe @envy-kitty @dillybuggg @mxblobby @nakedcrackers @aigeneratedprincess

[im-getting-help]

The way people reacted to Saltburn reminded me of a tiktok trend or "challenge" in which you had to watch the opening scene of Nocturnal Animals (2016).

(I'm not going to spoil the movie, go watch it is beautiful.)

It reminded me because the movie is so interesting and enthralling but it was played for jokes. No one was watching the movie, they felt "disgusted and uncomfortable" even though they didn't even tried to watch it.

The commentary of Saltburn was so similar, it really upset me. It was like people were saying "yeah, we watched it this time, it's still too gross".

Nocturnal Animals explores the tense relationship between the protagonists in a very gruesome and violent way. Those choices are not made for shock value, they tell a story. The same way Saltburn showed desire and obsession and in my opinion the perfect representation of unchecked limerence with the bathtub and cemetery scenes.

I have no doubt that in a few years they will be a new tiktok (or new platform) challenge that dares you to record your reaction of the cemetary scene with no context. And it makes me so sad.

It makes me sad not only because of the unappreciation of such amazing movies, but because I feel we are teaching teenagers to not have media literacy. I honestly feel like we're allowing people to just watch movies like they're cocomelon. And I think is dangerous for cinema.

Martin Scorcese shared in a few interviews how he feel that the popular movies are not really cinema, that they fail to convey real emotion and they don't take risks. I think he's right, he makes a direct reference to the MCU but to me he's describing at least 70% of the movies that comes out in a year.

Everything is simple, easy to understand, overly explained. A cast full of well known actors and a beautiful score, or a passable one, and you have a movie. You don't need a new story to tell, not really, you can just reuse an old one. Make a retelling, a remake, a live-action adaptation, a secuel or a prequel with lots of CGI. You got a movie, congrats.

To me the new movies are always disappointing, they're a way to kill time but never a moment to appreciate art.

And this is why the criticism of Saltburn frustrates and saddens me so much. Cause is not a perfect movie (well, to me it is), but is so SO much more than what we're served on a daily basis. It's rich and complex and beautiful to watch. The score is fun and playful and at times heartbreaking and breathtaking. The actors are just incredibly talented and well directed. The clothing and makeup is just a wonder to watch, going from the cringe of 2006 teenage fashion to the opulent gowns and suits. So much of this movie is a pleasure to observe, to discover.

It breaks my heart to think that the future of cinema is... white noise, filler, the equivalent to eating a sandwich instead of cooking a meal cause you're too tired to do more. So much so that when you're presented with a home cooked meal you're unable to enjoy the taste, too accustomed to simplicity.

[elysianightsss]

Limerence Kenjaku x reader drabble

Warnings: SMUT. Kenjaku being a softie.

Okay but we have to talk about Kenjaku being soft in Limerence. He is so fucking dangerous, a literal killer and yet when it comes to you he’s the softest teddy bear there is.

Rather than growling to threaten people, he’s growling in annoyance when you run your soft finger tips along his ticklish skin, little giggles coming from you as you watch him twitch. His eyes hold an amusement as he watches you, you have no idea how much he cherishes these moments with you. Finally feeling of value, finally feeling loved.

But then he’s also soft in an agressive way. “Kenny baby tell me what happened.” You plead wanting to know what’s made him have that crazed look in his eye as he hooks two of his large fingers in your damp underwear and pulls them down passed your hips and off your legs.

“Princess,” he sighs deeply with his eyes closed, “I’ve had a rough couple days,” he says, trying his best to keep his voice soft for you, though his mind is swirling with a recent memory, deep and dark. “Just let me eat your cunt and we’ll discuss everything after, okay?”

Kenjaku doesn’t wait for you to agree, doesn’t need to, not when he sees the need sparkling in your eyes, not when he sees your pussy all glistening and clenching around nothing. He dives in, his tongue, long, sinful and determined.

Long purposeful strokes before sucking your throbbing bundle of nerve into his hot mouth sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body, your back arching with a high pitched keen slipping form your lips. The sensation was exhilarating, the slickness of his tongue gliding against your soaked folds, teasing your sensitive clit.

He loved you like this, loved to have you at his mercy. You were so precious, and when you let out those broken cries begging for more it makes this killer Alpha become so weak for you. You have him wrapped around your little finger and you have no god damn clue.

[shallowseeker]

My hot take is that little Dean's memory of his parents fighting and his dad moving out for a couple of days is... kind of a nothing burger.

At the very least, it's not a smoking gun indicating a big, bad, ABUSIVE/IMPERFECT marriage at that point. It wasn't even indicative of Mary somehow"RELYING on little Dean."

First: All marriages are imperfect. We argue over the difficulties of life—painful disruptions to life's daily rhythms, especially for a child.

Second: This marriage's imperfection is part of what makes it more believable to me. I'd be more suspicious of a Cupid-coded, neverending limerance.

This looks... well, this doesn't look that bad, to be honest. In terms of "dangerous" domestic disputes, this doesn't even rank, or ring alarm bells.

So John moved out for a few days. Big deal.

We don't even know if Sam and Dean's assumption that it's mostly John's fault is the correct one.

///

I mean, sure. Thematically, it's got a strong, perhaps retroactive(?) throughline. And Sam latches onto this theme with gusto:

"Wow, you've been cleaning up dad's messes for longer than I thought!"

Sam that is a four-year-old displaying normal anxiety over a relatively normal situation.

Mary is not "Relying (TM)" on little Dean in this scene either, btw. She's feeding him a sandwich. She's giving Dean a hug because he overheard the argument and is upset and anxious about it. Like any kid would be.

Little Dean's not "cleaning up Dad's messes" here either, regardless of what Sam knows came after in their lives.

This seems to be a retroactive narrative Sam is stamping onto this memory, the same way Sam seems to(?) stamp his anxieties about "impurity," "demon blood," and "being a freak/monster" onto his own past memories, trying to make sense of his "feeling like an outsider."

//

Anyhoo. Clearly, this was a small speed bump in John and Mary's marriage, not a wreck. John and Mary seem to have come to an understanding on their own.

It wasn't even that long of a separation, "only for a few days."

It wasn't the end of the world. It just FELT like the end of the world to a little kid.

///

If anything, this is a window into little Dean's sensitivity to others' emotions, even from a very early age.

Kindness and empathy are wonderful traits.

But it's this big heart that will set Dean up for pain. Because his good nature will be taken advantage of by John later.

[bearr02]

Limerence |JJK - Teaser|

Limerence - The state of being infatuated or obsessed with someone.

Pairing: mafia boss!Jungkook x f!reader

Teaser warnings: angsty, Jungkook’s being kind of an ass

Summary: You never thought you would be tied up with the mafia, your life having been boring and the same. However, when a god of a man walks into the cafe you work at, you want to catch his attention in hopes you won’t feel so lonely anymore. Two thoughts that don’t cross your mind, one, that the stranger has been observing you for the past couple months, two, that he’s one of the biggest mafia bosses in all of Korea, deciding both of you that you will be his wife.

Genre: angst, non-idol au, yandere!Jungkook, smut..

Word count: 426

A/n: ik this is short, but I think it’s a decently good teaser and I’m really excited to put this out there, I probably won’t update too terribly often, considering my other series’, safe and sound being my main which will be the most updated, but like I really wanted to do this :)

This will, of course, be in a chapter most likely later on in this series, after they start dating and Y/n moves in with JK, so kinda just a sneak peak on what it’ll be like later :)

“I’m..I’m pregnant.” You whisper, looking at your hands as you nervously play with them. “You’re what?” Jungkook’s cold voice rings in the air. “You said you were on the pill.” Jungkook says, his chair screeching as he pushes it back and stands. You flinch at the sound, keeping your eyes trained on your hands.

Jungkook’s tattooed hand makes its way into your hair, fingers curling around the strands before he yanks you up by your hair. “Ah!” You whimper, fingers curling around Jungkook’s arm. “How are you pregnant, if you’re on. The fucking. Pill?” He asks, fingers tightening on your hair when your eyes squeeze shut. “I-I ran out.” You whimper out, looking at Jungkook through teary eyes. “You ran out?” He asks, laughing. “Why didn’t you fucking tell me?” He asks, slamming you against a nearby wall. “I tried!” You yell, fighting against him.

Jungkook frowns, his free hand coming up to your throat, fingers curling tightly around your neck. You gasp for air, brows furrowing at the lack of it. “Do not fucking raise your voice at me.” He growls, face coming closer to yours. You attempt to say sorry, your lips only moving as nothing comes out because of Jungkook’s hold on your neck. “I’m getting you abortion pills.” He says, removing his hands from you before walking away.

You fall to the floor, gasping for air. “I..wanna..keep it.” You gasp out hoarsely, a hand resting against your throat. “You what?” Jungkook asks, voice dangerously low as he walks back towards you. “I wanna keep it.” You say, louder this time. “We’re not gonna fucking keep it.” Jungkook says, standing beside your hunched over frame. “Then I am.” You say.

Jungkook scoffs, “And how the fuck are you gonna do that? I can just kill it when you’re sleeping.” He says, crouching beside you. “Then I’ll run away.” You say, looking up at Jungkook. His eyes darken, a frightening frown pulling at his lips.

Then he’s lifting you up by your hair, dragging you down the hall to your shared room. “Let me go!” You beg, back burning from the carpet where your shirt has ridden up. “Clearly you need to learn a thing or two about trying to leave me.” Jungkook says. Your heart sinks, clawing at his arm to no avail. “Please.” You say, a sob slipping past your lips as he opens the door. “Please!” You beg, louder.

“I need to get you back in check, baby. I’m in charge and you’re not. You never will be.”

A/n: I hope y’all like this, I honestly am really excited for this

Permanent taglist (open):

@viankiss @lizzymizzy-blogg @teddymoon06 @rln-byg @skyys-universe

Series taglist (open):

[alstroemeriadissonance]

Compartmentalize (NSFW)

A/N: Aaaa I've been gone for some time (was busy with doing my urban fantasy AU found here), and I haven't been active in my socials including Twitter...I hope I can muster the will to do housekeeping and updating links. RL stuff is just getting a bit too much these days...

NSFW. Dr. Vyn Richter navigates his emotions with the help of his trusty dictaphone. Or, Vyn gets his own bad end. Crossposted from AO3 here

[0:00 - 0:37]

Dr. Vyn Richter

Patient is neatly groomed. Mood and affect is moderately dysthymic. Speech is normal in rate, rhythm, and volume as sampled in this recording. He is moderately distracted, with thoughts that are slightly tangential. Insight and judgment is impaired, with a tendency for emotionally-driven decisions. He has persistent, intrusive thoughts of his limerent object for the past fourteen hours and twenty five minutes since waking up at nine this morning.

[0:37 - 0:50]

Dr. Vyn Richter

Thoughts of jealousy, stemming from mild obsessive behavior towards limerent object have been observed, leading to difficulty with focus and concentration causing two instances of critical lapse in decision making.

“You’re doing it again.” Marius snapped his fingers in front of Vyn’s face, only to have his hand slapped away.

“Stop that,” Vyn muttered, reaching for his cup of tea. “What was I doing again, pray tell?” He took a sip, then made a face once he found out it had long gone cold. Irritated, he slammed the cup back into its saucer, spilling amber liquid all over his documents piled on the glass conference table. “Fuck.”

“Zoning out. Focus, will you?” Marius groused as he closed the document folder in his hands. It was obvious to him that Vyn couldn’t crunch data off the top of his head in his current state of mind. “I don’t like staying here past seven either, but we’ve got a job to do.” He tossed the folder onto the table and reached out for his tablet. “How about you take a quick look at this instead—”

The door to the files room opened, but Marius did not take notice; he was busy flipping through the documents on his tablet to look for the one he needed feedback on. “Vyn—ah, damnit.” 

Vyn wasn’t zoning out yet again, but Marius thought what he did was way worse: the doctor’s hawkish gaze was trained at the recently opened door, or more specifically, the couple who had emerged from the files room: Luke and Rosa. 

Marius, with his gift for observation that was mostly used in his art endeavors, easily picked out how the doctor’s fingernails dug into his thighs. He was sure that Vyn would bleed it if it weren’t for the sturdy fabric of his khakis. “Vyn?” No response; the doctor was already burning holes onto the backs of his colleagues, both too preoccupied with their light-hearted bantering over their smartphones to notice Vyn’s all-too bitter glaring.

[0:50 - 0:59]

Dr. Vyn Richter

I am looking in the mirror, my rose. Beholding the just deserts of our stubbornness. It is a tragedy that we have to hide the truth about ourselves, what we feel for each other, this beautiful thing that we have nurtured together.

Oh boy. Marius gave up and grabbed his bag to stuff his things, resigned that he would have to wait till their next meeting to get something pertinent out of his usually fastidious tutor. Whatever.

Luke was mumbling something as he hunched over Rosa’s shoulder, pointing at whatever was displayed on her screen. They seemed a little too intimate for work colleagues; Luke pulled Rosa closer to him, his arm wrapped around her as he fiddled with her phone’s display. 

[1:05 - 1:13]

Dr. Vyn Richter

Try as we might to separate our personal lives from the professional, the world is trying to take advantage of the consideration that we allow them at the expense of our own needs and desires, Rosa, do you not see it? 

Marius wasn’t surprised to see Vyn finally flipping his lid when Luke whispered something to her ear, his lips dangerously close to her face as if he was kissing her cheek.

“Luke, Rosa,” the doctor began, his voice controlled yet loud enough to easily fill the entirety of the sizable conference room. “If you could please keep your voices down. Marius and I are trying to do work here.” 

No we aren’t, because someone here is stewing in his jelly juices, Marius thought to himself. He would have said it out loud, but he did not feel like getting in the crosshairs of his tutor’s ire at the moment. 

“I have no qualms about any of us pursuing personal relationships, but if you could please exercise enough restraint to keep your flirting outside of working hours?” Vyn, despite his flat, emotionless tone, wasn’t giving any quarter. “I did not sign up for this circus.”

Marius threw the doctor a look that said Are you fucking serious? and nervously shifted his sights towards Luke and Rosa. As he expected, Luke was positively incensed, and Rosa was nothing but downright mortified.

“If you’ve got more to say about me and her catching up, why don’t we take this outside?” Luke nudged Rosa to stand behind him, but she didn’t budge; she remained rooted on the spot, her face red with embarrassment. 

“That is not necessary,” Vyn said, his voice clipped. “I am done here. You two can carry on with your business. I care not.”

Marius merely watched as Vyn stiffly gathered his things to leave the conference room; held his breath in anticipation when the doctor had to pass Luke to get to the door—only to be grossly disappointed when they merely stared each other down.

“I bid you a good evening, Rosa,” Vyn said quietly, his eyes never leaving Luke as he addressed her. “Enjoy your time together.”

[1:14 - 1:21]

Dr. Vyn Richter

Do you not see how much it tears me apart?

Later that night.

He drove his head deeper into his pillows, relishing the warmth and wetness of her mouth wrapped around his cock. He let out a moan as she did her best to deepthroat him; he had told her that she didn’t need to, yet Rosa was adamant to try pleasuring him. 

Perhaps as a way to make up for what happened back in the headquarters.

The earnestness of her efforts alone was enough to send him almost weeping in his own bed, a mere few minutes until midnight, way past his routine bedtime. But he did not care; sticking to a healthy routine was important if he were to maintain his mental acuity, yet at that moment nothing mattered to the doctor than feeling his lover’s hot, wet tongue swirling around his tip, and how her small lips were stretched to accommodate his girth as much as she could. His head spun in pleasure; the thick thread of precum leaking into her sucking mouth betrayed just how much he had waited for relief.

The muscles of his inner thighs tightened; he was getting near. His fingers twitched and sought her auburn tresses, unsure where they needed to be in his sudden bout of kindness, only for his care and restraint to be undone as she started sucking in earnest; her hand wrapped around the rest of his shaft and jerking off what her mouth couldn’t fit. Shuddering breaths quickly turned to needy gasps as he grabbed fistfuls of her hair, and begged for her to let him come—

But she only stopped and drew back, his still rock-hard cock slipping out of her lips.

Vyn almost wept in abject frustration. “Rosa, I—” His strangled voice told a little too much of just how much of his control was lost, only for him to be thwarted at the last minute. “...Why?”

“You didn’t have to antagonize him,” Rosa muttered, wiping the mixture of spit and precum off her lips with the back of her hand. “He was just showing me the videos he took from his last assignment.” Her olive eyes were clouded with such a mixture of emotions that Vyn couldn’t discern, not when he was too vexed after being deprived of release all too suddenly. 

Was it anger? Resentment? Regret? 

In the end he decided that none of those mattered, and he roughly pulled Rosa closer to him for a lingering kiss that told of his simmering desire for her, long ignored and neglected during the daytime. “I do not like how he holds you as if you were his possession,” he murmured against her lips, his arms snaking possessively around her sweat-slickened body. “Only I have the right to do so, Rosa. My love.” 

[1:25 - 1:37]

Dr. Vyn Richter

Only I should see your smile. Only I should hear you speak, in that sweet voice only your lover should hear. Only I should feel you. Around me. In me. Your intoxicating scent as we make love, only I should know of it. 

“I keep on telling you, we were only—ah—” Her protests died in her throat as Vyn pushed her down onto the mattress. “This wouldn't even be a problem if we'd only admit to our rela—” 

“Sssh.” Once again Vyn interrupted her from voicing out her grievance, this time with his slender finger across her grumbling lips. “We have already talked about this, pet.” He spared her from his usual vague platitudes about keeping things professional. Now wasn’t the time. The indignation he had to go through a few moments ago was still swimming in his bloodstream, but the need to sate his hunger was paramount. 

He spread her thighs open, and a dark chuckle rose from his throat. Despite her misgivings aimed at him the lurid sight of her wet and swollen flesh between her thighs betrayed just how much she was indeed his. 

She throbbed for him, and not for whoever she was with during the daytime, certainly not her childhood friend, try as hard as Luke might to worm his way into her heart by taking advantage of their shared memories. 

Memories that will be easily edged out by the lifetime of midnights shared only between the doctor and his precious rose. 

He could feel his dick harden even more at the thought.

His blood sang in triumph. 

“I will now take what is rightfully mine,” he whispered, licking his lips as he pushed her thighs further apart.

[1:40 - 1:59]

Dr. Vyn Richter

I knew my obsession with you was far too dangerous to allow unimpeded, but still I happily indulged in it, devoting my time and energy to your altar. You made me realize how much of a hypocrite I am, that I am no better than any man, just another someone who would squander everything in pursuit of that one woman. 

His bedroom was filled with nothing but shared sighs and ragged moans as he sank deep into her, inch by delicious inch, into her hole. He threw his head back, closing his eyes as he relished the heat inside her cunt grasp his cock perfectly as if it was made for him. Yes. For him only, she was his alone, of that there was never any doubt. They fit perfectly, both of them pieces of a puzzle they did not know they needed to solve until their first touch. Vyn knew there was no one else made for him. He was going to make her his, in every sense of the word, but that was for later.

“Sing for me, Rosa,” he murmured, hands sliding down to her thighs and wrapping her legs around his waist. “I want to hear your voice. Tell me you are mine,” he demanded, his voice a touch too needy for his liking. It was difficult to grasp what little composure he had left with how good her hot cunt felt around him. 

With a snap of his hips he bottomed out inside her; her moans of pleasure music to his ears as he started moving. 

“Vyn, Vyn, I—nngh—” There was no hope for Rosa to come up with coherent words, not with how she helplessly clung to his shoulders, her legs greedily pulling his hips back to hers in time with his hard, deep thrusts. “Yours, I’m…ahh—” Tears pricked the edges of her eyes, to his utter, unhinged delight; a sinister laugh rose from his lips the moment he felt her fingernails drag across the skin of his back, no doubt drawing blood. That is fine, he thought as he hissed in the pain and licked his lips, his darkened gaze locking onto her unfocused olive stare that told of just how far gone she was in her head, focusing on the climax steadily building as he pounded into her, over and over. 

“I need to…come. Please,” she managed to whisper, her weakened voice almost inaudible as he kept on rutting into her mercilessly. “Please, Vyn,” she whimpered, one of her hands letting go of his shoulder to reach down between her bodies. 

He was going to let herself reach her precipice first, but the feel of her hand desperately rubbing her clit—her knuckle grazing his cock as he kept on fucking her the way God intended him to do her—pushed him past the point of no return. With a loud, guttural moan he burst his hot seed inside her. 

She is like a drug, he decided as he slumped over her body, fully spent; and as she came, her cunt milking him for all he was worth with each orgasmic spasm, he knew that his spiraling obsession for her would lead him to nowhere but the abyss, and there was no hope for him to turn back and save himself. 

[2:05 - 2:12]

Dr. Vyn Richter

It is unfortunate that you know this side of me, my love. And I cannot afford to let others know of how much of my control I lose over you.

At exactly one in the morning she was already fully dressed, her smartphone in her hand as she booked for a taxi to come pick her up from Vyn’s place.

“Rosa, being out alone at this hour is unwise,” Vyn said, still naked on his bed. “At the very least please give me a few minutes to dress myself and I will drive you home.” 

He wanted to tell her that he’d rather she stay the night, for her to sleep beside him, but many things have already been said between them; it was much too late for him to renege on what they have already agreed upon, in the interests of compartmentalizing their romantic entanglement away from their professional lives and, in Vyn’s case, duty of his birthright.

And so all he could do was slip on his robe and see her out his door.

[2:23 - 2:52]

Dr. Vyn Richter

I will now come out and say it: You own me, my beloved. Me, and everything it entails. You own my thoughts, and my feelings. I cannot help it, your ownership of me is etched into my very being. You must bear responsibility for this, my rose. I place my fate into your hands.

“I will miss you, Rosa of my heart,” Vyn solemnly said, reaching out to her with the intent of holding her hand. 

His fingers could only brush the back of her hand as she drew back and away from his grasp. 

“I know,” was all she said before she stepped out through the door.

[2:52 - 3:01]

Dr. Vyn Richter

But the world is not yet ready to know this. Not yet.

They passed by each other the following morning, when he took it upon himself to personally deliver subpoenaed documents for a high profile case Themis Law was currently working on. 

Vyn, on his way to Artem’s office, went past the pantry where he saw Rosa poring over documents spread out over the table with a mug of coffee in her hand.

He was about to approach her and say hello but Artem beat him to it, pulling a chair beside her. Vyn could only look on as the senior attorney huddled closer to his junior, going over the specifics of whatever the documents contained, sharing a laughter or two during their impromptu meeting in the pantry.

He could only watch as Celestine approached the two, loudly calling Rosa ‘Ms. Wing’ in jest, and tasked both attorneys to attend a business function together in her stead. An out of town business trip. Easily two or three days, out in the country together. 

I have intruded on her business enough. The doctor pivoted on his heel and strode over to Kiki’s cubicle instead. “Hello, Miss Kiki,” he said in his bright voice usually reserved for the most reticent of patients. “Wing seems to be preoccupied at the moment.” He handed her the folder, along with his favorite green striped pen for her to sign the receipt slip with. “Would you be a dear and receive these documents for me?” 

The bespectacled intern was quite surprised to see him, and her cheeks bloomed easily in his presence, ducking her head as she clumsily signed her name at the bottom of the receipt. It did not take her a minute before she handed him back his pen and the signed receipt. 

Vyn let their fingers brush against each other as he accepted the items. “Thank you.”

“Y-you’re welcome, Dr. Richter,” Kiki chirped, then surreptitiously hid her furious blush behind the documents folder. 

He briefly wondered how easily it would be to bed the pretty, yet painfully shy intern, to fill the gaps of his immensely lonely nights, but shoved it out of his mind just as quickly. 

Nobody deserves to be hurt by petty jealousies, and people who manipulate others with the promise of love are nothing but despicable. He knew this very well.

His heart hurt.

Left with no reason for him to linger, his business finally done, Vyn decided to retreat into the comfort and semblance of control that his research center afforded him.

Yet before he could step into the elevator to leave the premises, Rosa emerged from the pantry and brushed past him, Artem in tow. 

Their eyes briefly met, only for her to look away and place her hand on her boss’s arm, to Artem’s obvious surprise.

Vyn merely pursed his lips.

“Wing, I left the documents with Kiki,” was all the doctor said, after giving them a curt nod. “Have a good day. I shall take my leave now.”

[0:00 - 2:19]

Dr. Vyn Richter

The patient is appropriately dressed but disheveled. He would describe his mood as ‘within limits’. His thought process lacks flow. It has been sixteen hours and seventeen minutes since waking up at nine this morning, and thoughts of jealousy have consumed his sensorium. I am nothing without you, my rose, and I…

[The recording is cut off here. Faint sound of glass shattering could be heard in the background]

[starshapedjello]

I know you don’t want to hear this, but…

If they wanted to be with you, they would be with you. 💔

Stop allowing yourself to get breadcrumbed. 🍞

“Breadcrumbing is the act of sending out flirtatious, but non-committal social signals (i.e. "breadcrumbs") in order to lure a romantic partner in without expending much effort.”

Breadcrumbing can lead a person to become limerent. 💔🥺💔

“Limerence is a state of being stuck between uncertainty and hope: Will they or won’t they return the sentiment? Perhaps a person has not rejected them entirely, but they haven’t confessed their love either.”

Being limerent on someone is the state of being entirely consumed by whether or not they will one day be in a committed romantic relationship with you. The person may have broken up with you or perhaps you two were never fully together in the first place. Either way, you find yourself becoming obsessed with them and fantasizing about being with them in the future. You will make up excuses for them about why they can’t be with you now or maybe they will feed you excuses as to why you two are not together.

Neptune can be the culprit 😩

Aspects to Neptune can create a lot of fog on how someone views themselves and others. Neptune can be beautiful, yet dangerous. Be careful out there and make sure you are seeing the reality of a situation. Don’t get played. 😮‍💨 Respect your needs. 💞

[miaoniuu]

There is an organized network of groomers who have been operating in plain sight for over a decade on 4chan. There has been one confirmed murder, many confirmed s*xual exploitations and two potential drug related deaths. I don’t know where to talk about this anymore. I am so scared for these girls.

I made a post on Reddit about a network of groomers that exist on Discord, Endchan and 4chan and have been operating in the open for over a decade and it has been a whirlwind. 3 posts highly upvoted and subsequently removed, multiple death threats of course, and some participants saying conflicting things. Psyops, outrage, emotional contagion, politics, this one really has it all apparently.

I’m going to send you the formatted post below directly because, again, this post is being removed very fast over and over despite the intense attention and concern.

There are girls actively in danger.

——————————————————

There is an organized network of groomers who have been operating in plain sight for over a decade on 4chan. There has been one confirmed murder, many confirmed sexual exploitations and two potential drug related deaths. I don’t know where to talk about this anymore. I am so scared for these girls.

I could write a million paragraphs like I have done for years but I’m just tired, and nothing has ever come from it. No matter how many documents and and all the direct evidence I provide, it seems that this isn’t really an issue people care about, but I am not ever going to give up on these girls.

A lot of these girls are from broken homes and deal with poverty, mental illness, previous child grooming or molestation and the circle of predators knows this well, because they recognize patterns in posting from those types of disadvantaged minors and they hunt them down accordingly.

Here is the first thing you need to see. These are the current girls being targeted. Two of them are minors.

I have reported this to MissingKids, to ISPs, relevant local authorities, I have tried getting in touch with parents, I’ve tried sending this to content creators, I have exhausted every tool I have and my mental fortitude is limited. It feels like nobody cares.

From here on out, I’m listing three names of the most egregious cases, posting archives and I will do small descriptions but I don’t even know what I can say anymore at this point. It all feels so pointless at times. Some of these girls have been cyberstalked and doxxed for nearly a decade, starting when they were minors.

Ciara “Eliza” Horan - possible OD death, possibly in hiding. Whatever the truth is, does not want to be found. Please respect that. Has ties to Jet Neptune which is relevant in the next description. Her underage nudes were leaked regularly.

Relevant image: Ciara & Jet + obituary

Marky J Thompson - groomed by Sam Hyde, a public figure who committed statutory r*pe against her. When she came out to the public with this, he launched a smear campaign making derogatory and disgusting sexual skits about her on YouTube. Her underage nudes have been leaked countless times. Jet Neptune is a long time friend, a technical producer, and basically the shadow of Sam Hyde. You’ll never hear about Jet without Sam being mentioned along with it. Marky and Ciara were on and off friends. Jet and Sam are directly linked to both.

Relevant image 「EXTREME NSFW WARNING」: tr*nsphobia, ab*se, r*pe, r*cism, extensive vulgarity (I did not make this, it was written and compiled by someone on Twitter

Bianca Devins - I don’t want to spend too much time on this one and I have no need to link or compile because it is just horribly depressing and on top of that, it’s public enough to learn most of what needs to be learned on your own. There is still an active smear campaign against her happening despite her being dead.

orbiters - predatory individuals who mistake a controlling obsession with something poetic like limerence.

/r9k/ - revived instance of 4chan’s original Robot9000 board, where every post had to be an original post.

Endchan - dedicated board pertaining to 4chan’s e-girls, both active and past, alive and deceased.

I have archived the entire Endchan board, updated as of today. I have downloaded the files in case of deletion as well. I’m working on a timeline and organized document. I will be archiving and downloading every post I make to document any and all deletions and takedowns, and expanding more on this post as time goes on.

You can find the current version of the archived board here. Extreme NSFW, very long + trigger warning.

[serendipitys-teapot]

Guys, guys, guys 🥰

Loyalty and Limerence just hit 🎉700 kudos🎉, and I'm just so touched and joyful that so many people read and enjoyed my last fic. Thank you to all my lovely readers!

I'm currently writing the last chapter of my next fic, which I'm really hoping to have edited and out the door in the near future. Side note, I think I'm going to look into commissioning some art for it, do I have any artist friends who might be interested before I go searching? I'm hoping to find someone whose style matches the vibe of the fic.

Speaking of which, I'd like to share a snippet from this fic for those who are interested!

“Who is she?” Shepard whispered as Jack took a few tentative steps closer to the asari standing by the fountain. “A Spectre.” Garrus growled under his breath, and she felt a shiver run down her spine as her entire body chilled. “It might not be the worst case scenario, but it’s damn close.” Shepard forced herself to stillness, even as every fiber of her being screamed for her to run. If Garrus thought it was safe to stay, then perhaps it was. But it was hard to not begin inching back into the shadows of the alleyway. Somewhere in the back of her brain, a voice chuckled as memories prickled across her skin like needles, pressing into all her most sensitive spots. I win again, Jane.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d show up.” Vasir announced flippantly, and Shepard looked up as Jack appeared to stiffen. “I gave you my fucking word, didn’t I?” She snapped angrily, and the asari’s amused brow crept further upward. “Whatever. You’re here now, and that’s what matters.” “Now what the fuck do you want from me? Who are you, and how did you get my contact info?” Jack took a step closer, and both began to speak with low voices that didn’t carry well across the space. They listened for a minute or two without picking up anything they could understand. Garrus cursed. “I don’t understand.” Shepard frowned as she looked at him in confusion. “Why isn’t Vasir attacking her? Don’t Spectres try to kill people like her?” Even as the words left her mouth, Shepard remembered the proposition given to her the instant before Saren had thrown her from the rooftop. “Or is Vasir trying to use her to get to us somehow?” Garrus seemed to consider his words before responding quietly as he looked back at her. “Spectres don’t always want to kill them. Sometimes they recruit them instead.” Shepard’s eyes widened in shocked surprise.

“Recruit them? So, you think Vasir wants to make Jack a Spectre?” “It’s possible. Either that, or she wants to recruit her to join Cerberus. It’s impossible to tell at this point.” They both watched as Vasir gestured to Jack, her expression turning serious as the human woman turned and rolled her eyes at something the asari had said. Vasir took a step closer, her smile returning as she placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder, causing her to look back up at her with suspicion. “Come on, we need to get out of here.” Garrus murmured as he gestured for Shepard to back up. Carefully, she scootched backwards before slowly getting to her feet, her heart suddenly hammering in her chest again. She’d been training for months, and yet this was the first time she’d truly been within danger’s reach since joining the crew. It made her knees weak, and she worked hard to reign in her fear. Taking one more step backwards, she froze as something clattered to the ground behind her. She turned to see a metal garbage bin on its side, the lid rolling to a stop noisily. Turning, she looked up in horror as Vasir’s and Jack’s eyes landed on their hiding spot. Vasir’s smiled widened like a snake’s as she brought her omni-tool up and said something under her breath. “Run.” Garrus hissed as he turned and took off down the alleyway, Shepard hot on his heels. “Liara, we’ve been spotted. We need an exit. Now!” “On it!” Their footsteps were now the ones echoing off the walls as they sprinted back the way they’d come, and though they couldn’t hear anyone pursuing, they could hear the far-off sound of sirens as they exited the alley into the busy shopping district. “She’s called C-Sec on us.” Garrus stated as he started off down the sidewalk, and Shepard noted with relief the difference in her stamina from the last time she’d followed him at a full sprint through the Citadel. “Do Spectres hold official ranks? Is that why they can command C-Sec officers?” Shepard asked as she caught up to him, the sirens growing ever louder. “C-Sec,” Garrus spat with a sneering flick of his mandibles, “are nothing more than pawns. The Spectres and the GETH move them around the board like game pieces for whatever purpose they need.” The words were said with such vehemence and spite that Shepard blinked in surprise. “Okay, I have an route for you, but you’re not going to like it.” Liara’s voice interrupted her thoughts, and Garrus groaned. “How far?” “You’re going to need to get all the way to the Silversun Strip.”