#BUT HE STILL AT HIS CORE WANTS TO BE WITH SOMEONE ALL THE WAY

[see-arcane]

Examining the Nosfertrio

I must uphold my position as Words Georg and yammer about the Nosferatu Trio (Nosfertrio) that makes up the core of Nosferatu (2024). Specifically in terms of the love triangle and their roles within it.

Spoilers and a massive monolith of text below.

Ellen and Orlok

I’ve already seen a handful of posts going into the metaphors inherent to their relationship. Orlok as Ellen’s id, as the repressed darkness and fey nature she must keep bottled up for the sake of her era and society, as brutality and sensuality, et cetera. And there’s definitely truth in that. Just as it can be found in a lot of horror-attraction (I hesitate to give all of them the blanket of ‘romance’ but attraction is key on one or both sides for hero and antagonist) stories in various degrees from bodice ripper to outright nightmare. There is a definite cathartic itch that’s scratched in everything from Labyrinth’s Jareth to The Phantom of the Opera’s Erik all the way to this, Orlok at his most cadaverous and insidious.

People want to be wanted. On some level, we want to express the repressed depths of ourselves, be they perverse and violent or weird and whimsical. 99 times out of 100, we still restrain ourselves from doing the Immediate Gratification action—anything from snatching the last piece of cake because we know someone else is looking forward to it or taking a hammer to an annoying customer’s skull—because appeasing that kneejerk urge will have consequences. We will feel bad about having done it or else outside forces will punish us. Repression is a fact of life, with some forced to constrict themselves more than others. Not always for good reason. Case in point, poor Ellen stuck in period piece hell.

Ellen was suffering as a young girl. Her clairvoyance and supernatural susceptibility made her an early outcast and the death of her mother left her alone with a father who we learn had a period where he seriously considered sending her to an asylum. A period we also learn came after Orlok began either causing or infinitely worsening her epileptic fits. The one Ellen describes to Von Franz involves her being found naked mid-spasm. Something to do with her flesh.

Was she found orgasming? Had she clawed at herself, perhaps at her breast where Orlok couldn’t yet feed and bleed her? Maybe she was caught in a masturbatory act that Orlok played puppeteer to. We don’t know because we’re only meant to conjure something mortifying for Ellen to be caught at; just as her other public fits have been. Her father is disgusted by it, whatever it is.

Sometime in this miserable window, Thomas enters her life.

Thomas Hutter who is in every way Count Orlok’s antithesis. He loves where Orlok only wants. He wishes only to give to Ellen, to make himself and their life a thing worthy of her—note, she lived in a stunning mansion as a girl and Thomas needed a loan from Friedrich Harding to afford their tiny home; Ellen married down to be with him and he knows it. If Ellen is an owed piece of property in Orlok’s view, Ellen is precious beyond words to Thomas, who even in his terror and ailment, loves her more than he fears anything.

Then comes Orlok in person, slapping Wisborg with plague and murdering friends and children and threatening to go after Thomas if Ellen does not ‘willingly’ submit to him. A big bloodstained temper tantrum is needed before Ellen dons her wedding dress again and gives herself to Orlok for the sake of being the Judith to his Holofernes. When Orlok’s time comes it is an agonizing thing. A final dose of pain for him to suffer in recompense for years of violation inflicted on a girl since puberty.

Ellen kills him. Ellen dies for the sake of killing him and guarding Thomas. In pure emotional math, she is true to what she told Orlok outright:

No. I love Thomas.

I care nothing for your affliction.

I abhor you.

You revel in my torture.

Nothing but truth here. She loves Thomas. She doesn’t give a shit how ‘afflicted’ Orlok is by him wanting her. She abhors him. And, with almost a lifetime of evidence on her side, yes, Orlok appears to get off on casually, repeatedly, flashily subjecting Ellen to her spasms, however pleasurable or painful they might be, to say nothing of her embarrassment and being ‘helped’ by the era’s dehumanizing quackery.

And yet.

Ellen has two visuals and two lines that suggest that buried in her hate and horror at Orlok and all he does, there is still one wisp of…I really hesitate to call it love. Attraction might be in it. ‘Affliction.’ Whatever it is, it is the tiny buried stretch of spiritual ore that I imagine brought Orlok sniffing in the first place. Ore that has been honed by years of abuse and the hopeless inescapability of his attentions into something that Ellen shelves with the rest of her shame and fear, but cannot let go because it is a part of her and part of what kept her from succumbing to total despair in her time before Thomas.

Because Ellen was lonely once upon a time. Did she know Anna as a young girl? Or did that come later, after Thomas? Either way, she prayed for a companion. For comfort. She felt alien and alone and wrong. Which Orlok scented as she called out blindly—a familiar essence he could take advantage of. Because he is a tyrant. A monster. And he is alone too. 

You are not for the living. You are not for humankind.

The visuals:

Ellen meets him in Anna’s room. Comes close close close to kissing him—and reverses (I abhor you).

Ellen stays with him in the bed, lightly cradling Orlok as the sunrise kills him; and he does not claw or tear at her in his death throes, even knowing her betrayal. Only lays a gentle grasp on her shoulder. They recline again as they die, Ellen letting him lay rather than letting him fall off.

The lines:

Before Orlok strikes her mind: He took me for his lover! (Not victim. Lover. She believes it.)

While Orlok has reached out and pressed his influence on her again, her words possibly not wholly her own: You could not please me so well as him. (Is it Orlok goading? Is it Ellen telling a truth or a lie to prod Thomas into sex? Is it a jumble?)

Ellen loves Thomas more than Orlok or her own life. But there is a grain of care for the monster who obsessed over and menaced her for so long. It’s the grim and heady little whisper under all the trappings of horror-attraction, why fiction loves a demonic dom or a pining terror.

I was never alone with them infecting my life. I was the focus of all their attention and passion. I saw so much violence done for the sake of them coercing me to their side. I had these throes forced on me and in being forced to endure their darkness I was absolved of any guilt in moments of pleasure from it. I held hands with Death in a dream and I was so happy when everyone I knew—everyone I smother myself to accommodate—was dead.

It’s there. Of course it’s there.

But what else is there with it?

Ellen and Thomas

Enter the newlyweds who didn’t deserve Any of That Shit.

We don’t really get much time with these two beyond establishing that they are very genuinely in love, have been thoroughly enjoying a too-short honeymoon, and are each prepared to kill and die for each other.

But something I’m seeing around the edges of post-film analyses is a phenomenon that I recognize from certain unfortunate reads of Jonathan Harker’s character, both from Dracula’s book canon and almost 130 years’ worth of trash adaptations. Already this boy is teetering on the precipice of being done dirty the exact same way Jonathan was via sanding down his full role and character in the story. I’ve seen takes that reduce him to the Normal Guy Your Weird Ex Hates, the Guy Who Doesn’t Listen to His Wife, the Useless Guy, the Boring Normie Guy, the Connecticut Clark to Ellen’s Malfina, et cetera et cetera.  

But like. You have to miss a mountain of context clues to land on any of these statuses as Thomas’ deal.

Let’s look at the chief offense: Thomas disregards and/or shuts down Ellen.

First:

Thomas tries to shush Ellen about her nightmare(s). For a moment. But Ellen insists, and so he listens to the dream of wedding Death. He does shush her then, but in the way of soothing. It was just a dream, not a portent. All will be well. What is he supposed to say otherwise? Yes, I believe you. Yes, something horrible is about to happen. Worry, fear, fret. It’s the best course of action.

As for him leaving the bedside and ultimately going out to Orlok’s castle despite Ellen’s pleading? Again, what else is he logically meant to do? This boy does not know what genre he’s in. Ellen does because she’s Ellen. Thomas thinks he’s in a period piece romance with a happy ending and his moneyed best friend repaid for his loan and his beloved back to living in the luxury he knows she left behind to be with him. To do that, he must work for it. He must jump through whatever hoop Herr Knock tells him to. Between the latter and the bait of the commission he and Orlok dangle in front of him—Friedrich paid back, a step toward a plush future to gift to Ellen—and the fact that Ellen’s warning plea comes from dreamt vapor, it’d make no sense for him to just kick off his shoes, endanger his job and roll back in bed with her because his permission slip would read:

‘My wife said no :)’

Even if he wanted to, and it’s hard to think he doesn’t want to going by how uneasy he was the moment Knock put the job in his hands, Thomas had no real room to refuse without putting himself and Ellen in real economic and interpersonal trouble. At best he might have feigned illness, but even that would be a gamble. All the things Ellen wanted him to do—stay longer with her, heed her premonition, don’t go on the journey—Thomas did want to do. But couldn’t.

Second offense:

Thomas ignores Ellen when she says their petite home (and ohhh doesn’t that sting in the 21st century to think that a place like theirs was considered ‘small’ or lower class once upon a time) is fine and Thomas need not push himself to extremes to finance a bigger better household with a maidservant and other bells and whistles to satisfy her. True! No denying it! Just as there is no denying that, out of the entire ensemble, Thomas Hutter is from the lowest class out of everyone.

Friedrich is his friend, a wealthy inheritor to a father’s shipping company who lent Thomas the money needed to pay for the little home and possibly his and Ellen’s wedding. Anna is Ellen’s friend, two girls with a friendly and possibly amorous history from what we can infer is a similarly well-off social level. Thomas is only in their circle by dint of somehow crossing paths with Friedrich and being charming enough to win an otherwise Classically Masculine and Rich Man’s regard.

And Ellen, again, stepped out of the wealthy life to be with him out of love. In her dream her father was there, one of the dead, but he is absent for the entire film. Considering her only other mentions of him were a childhood of his calling her a changeling girl or an unclean thing meant for a madhouse, we can assume the man did not empty his pockets for or applaud her choice of husband. Hence Friedrich’s loan. But for all the discomfort of her family life, Ellen did live a far more polished life than the one Thomas can give her as-is.

(I envy you, said to Friedrich outright.)

This is Thomas’ most standout flaw in my opinion, one that amounts to a single facet of a wider issue: Thomas Hutter feels inadequate on multiple fronts.

He is not wealthy enough to give Ellen the lifestyle he wants to return to her. He has not made up enough savings to repay a man he wishes were only a friend rather than an all-but-in-name sugar daddy. He’s unequivocally not within spitting distance of any other male character’s classic forms of manliness. Just an ongoing mantra of ‘not X enough,’ and that’s before Orlok gets in his head. More on that later.

He’s not shutting out Ellen’s insistence that she’s happy with their simple surroundings because he doesn’t care about her opinion. He’s shutting it out because he can’t get out of his own head about how much lesser he feels compared to her and their friends, feeling as if he has to make up for not coming from where they do and for basically taking his princess away from her metaphorical castle. Fittingly, it’s the complete reverse of Orlok’s treatment.

If Ellen is the prize to be conquered for Orlok, she is the undeserved prize on a pedestal to Thomas. One who needs precious things foisted on her to make him worthy of her loving him despite her saying otherwise. The guy can’t see past his own low view of himself to accept that she is sincere in his insistence that he is enough.

And that brings us to the third issue:

Ellen says she wants to come Orlok-hunting. Thomas shoots her down.

Bit of an echo from Dracula there, with Jonathan and the rest of the Drac Attack Pack unanimously deciding Mina has to be kept out of the villain’s reach while they go a-hunting..! Only for that very move to be what puts her in an unprotected position when said villain comes skulking up to her. It is a very old school Protect the Fair Maiden! move. Fitting for the genre and the time period and so on.

But unlike in Dracula, Thomas and Ellen’s playing of the scene makes much more sense.

They are not dealing with Dracula the Conqueror. They are dealing with Orlok the Repeat Rapist and Tantrum-Murderer Obsessed with Ellen. If there was one person in the entire ensemble not to bring into closer proximity to Orlok, even if she were at maximum anachronistic girlboss badass levels, or even just armed with her own stake and pistol, it would still very much be Ellen. Orlok’s been making her life hell at a distance. Willingly putting her in arm’s reach would make me blue screen too if I were Thomas. This isn’t Jonathan fearing the chance that Dracula might go after Mina out of convenience. This is Thomas rightfully clocking that Orlok will 110% go directly after Ellen. Obviously he says Ellen shouldn’t be on the hunt.

Which was just as obvious to Ellen before she even suggested it.

Because with or without Von Franz promising to lead Thomas and Sievers on the wild goose chase for the sarcophagus, Ellen was already planning to barter herself in exchange for protecting Thomas and Wisborg. Which Thomas would also 110% slam the brakes on if he knew what she was up to. She didn’t suggest her joining the hunt because she had any intention or expectation of them agreeing. It was to make sure that the suggestion was shut down and that Thomas and the others would be far away when she baited Orlok to her.

Both Hutters are terrified for the safety of one another and would rather face Orlok themselves and risk dying than put their beloved in danger. They are too alike in that regard, just as the Harkers are, and that love and desire to protect is abused by both versions of the Count to get what they want. It’s just that Ellen knew exactly how to ensure Thomas would do what she wanted by nettling him with the concept of her coming along and risking proximity to Orlok; perhaps intentionally implying she meant to put herself between him and Thomas as a shield. Cue him declaring absolutely not. Irony of ironies.

But alllll this is just window dressing compared to my main nitpick when it comes to some folks’ view of Thomas paired with Ellen. And that’s that he is the milquetoast nothingburger ignorant could never truly understand or please her! husband.

Shut the hell your mouth. I am a proud monsterfucker. I am all for the dark gothic fuckeduppedness of Orlok and Ellen’s whole dynamic. But as Stoker and Murnau are my witness, You Shall NOT Slander This Lad as Jonathan Harker was Before Him.

Ellen was the one wheedling Thomas to stay home and roll around in bed while he was late for work, wanting more of whatever he was dishing out. They were left unsupervised in someone else’s foyer for 0.5 seconds and immediately started tongue wrestling while sinking to their knees and cutting away to [REDACTED INTIMACY WHILE STILL VERY VISIBLE IN THEIR FRIENDS’ HOUSE]. Thomas jumped into a river, dragged himself from the brink of undeath, and rode half-dead all the way home to reach Ellen and try to get her out of Orlok’s range. Thomas, who was terrified of Orlok, still put that horror aside because he learned of Orlok’s torturing of Ellen and intended to kill the fucker for it to keep her safe.

Before all of that, Thomas earned Ellen’s love in their even greener youth.

Ellen, the girl who was strange and Other and tormented by Orlok’s spells and despondently alone with her monster? That was the Ellen who Thomas met. Who Thomas fell in love with. Who fell in love with him. And it was a love intense enough to blot Orlok’s shadow. When that shadow came back—

I am become a demon! I am unclean!

—Thomas stayed in the dark with her—

I love you! I love you!

—resolving to either kill the thing that had preyed on her or die trying.

Even if we knew none of this, Ellen’s final act is its own proof of what he was to her. We saw what she’s like with someone she clocks as an asshole when she confronts Friedrich for his actual ignorance and actual callousness. If any character is the starched ‘refuses to believe the supernatural reality/adheres to patriarchal bullshit’ figure, it’s him, not Thomas. (Hello echoes of Jonathan Harker versus John Seward, but I digress.) Ellen calls that shit out.

Why do you hate me? How can you be so stupid? So cruel?

She feels what she feels and says what she means and is the most observant character in the entire story.

And in the end, she deems whole fucking murder-suicide as a price she’s willing to pay to protect Thomas. Whatever we could not see before the film began, whatever romance the Hutters shared, it was true and powerful enough for her to do this.

Which leaves Thomas behind, her cold hand in his, all tears and grief at this—his last failure to tally on his internal chalkboard. He was not the Hero, but the Damsel unaware. He could not protect Ellen because she and Von Franz tricked him into safety as the latter schemed and the former gave herself up to the martyr role. Thomas was too trusting and too late and too much himself rather than the Man ™ who should have saved her from throwing herself on Providence’s pyre.

On that note.

We have to address the mess in the castle.

Thomas and Orlok

Eggers added a lot of meat to the very trimmed-down characters of the 1922 Hutters and Count. Original concepts and harvested bits from Dracula were all applied. The way he composed them served to fix what I still consider to be a barely-concealed plot hole.  

In 1922 and 1979, the Count sees a girl in a locket and immediately becomes obsessed with her. That’s it. That is the entire bulk of his awareness of her before Thomas arrives at his castle. An arrival that was very much based in the original Dracula’s desire to move himself and his deadly presence away to a new place. Original 1922 Orlok seems to just be in it for mysterious plague harbinger reasons. 1979 Dracuorlok seems to be genuinely distraught and resigned to some kind of irresistible condition that says He Must Go Bring Death. But Orlok 2024?

According to Von Franz and his reading, Orlok wants to kill the whole world with his plague..! But has just been chilling for a few centuries I guess. No rush. Not until Ellen happens. She and her covenant and—gasp!—marrying another man!? Barely a man at that.

Ellen Hutter and her new marriage is Orlok’s impetus in coming out of the castle and planting himself in Wisborg. Him stealing the locket and being obsessed with her now makes far more sense than it did in any preceding film because we get the new context of him preying on her since she was a teenager…

…which was interrupted because of Thomas.

The other man. The boy. The laughable gentle meek shivering rival who Knock sends to his door and into his power.

Where 1922 Count was rigid and awkward to the point of seeming like he had to fight rigor mortis with every step and 1979 Count was glassy-eyed and frantically grasping with lonesome eagerness, 2024 Count is stewing over jealousy and disbelief and derision and only the flimsiest attempt at playing client to fool the young man into signing his status as Ellen’s husband away. A farce, a farce. But the covenant demands he cannot kill him outright. That would be theft, not Ellen ‘giving herself freely.’

But after? After the signing, surely he could wring the boy’s neck. Could sit and watch as the wolves tear him to pieces. He could fill him up with plague or snap him in half or drown him like the Pied Piper with a rat… All these things he could have done after he tricked Thomas’ signature out of him on the occult document.

And didn’t.

Let’s retreat to that first strange night together.

Thomas gets subjected to Orlok’s trance the second he reaches the crossroads that leads to the castle. He does not walk as much as float into the coach that has no driver, his next scene showing him abruptly on his feet with his eyes shut in sleep. The doors open to him without hands, leaving him to trail after the Count as if on a string. Orlok gives Thomas two orders the moment they reach the dining room.

One, get out the paperwork. Two, Thomas will address Orlok as his Lord.

“Pardon, sir—?”

“Your. Lord.”

“yesmylordforgivememylord”

Thomas takes his seat and gets treated to Orlok very obviously flexing his powers by doing his little teleportation trick around the table, getting right up in Thomas’ space to pour him his wine, his hand nearly brushing Thomas’ face before retreating.

Thomas asks about the vampire hunting scene he saw in the graveyard and—

“SPEAK NOT OF IT AGAIN!”

Thomas speaks not of it again. Orlok tells him to eat. Cue the mishap with the bread knife and the bleeding thumb. Orlok sounds caught between snarling like an animal or climaxing at the table at the sight of the blood and insists Thomas go sit by the fire where Orlok can see to the wound. Thomas blinks and has lost time again: Somehow he’s been moved to the chair by the fire, fully paralyzed and in tears as Orlok closes in on him, locked in a waking nightmare as the innkeeper woman warned him. This is where Eggers cuts away. All we know for certain is that Orlok fed at Thomas’ breast at least once in the night.

And that he went out of his way to leave Thomas laying face down on the floor come daylight.

The reveal shot is posed as almost comical when coming straight after Ellen’s pining comment about him. I heard some people laugh in the theater. But combining this visual with others to come makes it one of the most awful scenes in hindsight. Because I believe it’s the clearest sign that Orlok outright raped Thomas.

No jokes, no implications, no metaphors. I think he performed the literal act. The only way it could stop short of that in my mind is if Orlok abused his trance state to force Thomas to his knees before or after feeding on him for some emasculating puppeteer work. But no. I think it was genuine rape. It may have happened again in the next feeding night, where Orlok is shown wholly naked as he feeds on Thomas’ breast again. Both times Thomas wakes up dressed. Both times Thomas was preyed on in the exact same way Orlok preys on Ellen.  

And notably, not in the same way as Anna Harding, who immediately got whacked with a dose of plague. Her children had their throats torn out. Ditto the ship’s sailors. Everyone else just sickens and rots and blood-vomits to death.

Thomas and Ellen are the only ones Orlok goes out of his way to prey on in an erotically posed way that results in trauma and ailment, but not the plague or raw slaughter Orlok’s throwaway victims get. Ellen makes sense because she’s ‘his enchantress.’ Thomas because..?

Hm. How does jealousy really fit in here as a reason, Count? Why is it that Thomas is the only man in the film you go out of your way to target by mounting and suckling on him? Why is it that you put words in Ellen’s mouth to describe him as a swooning lily of a woman who fell into your arms? Why is it that you still have your feelers in Thomas’ head to airdrop visions of yourself and your last assault on him? And—big big question here—how much influence did you have on Thomas and Ellen during their spontaneous lovemaking scene? Were you watching like Ellen implied? Did you want to?

Last and certainly not least:

You say you couldn’t kill Thomas or it would spoil the covenant. Yet you were surprised that he was still alive. And you reacted Violently+ when Knock suggested he be ordered to go out and kill the young man in your service. Why is that?

(Who made that vampire in the graveyard?)

((Which of those coffins in the crypt was going to be Thomas’?))

This is dancing around the subject, I know. The gist is this: Orlok wasn’t just angry at Thomas for stealing Ellen from him. He was incensed at Thomas being just as out of place as Ellen herself was. Ellen is not a classic fair maiden. Thomas is not a classic manly man. Thomas is, to Orlok’s surprise, making him pissed and horny. And that opens the door to the Count attacking Thomas in a way that seems to be a warmup for his future laying with Ellen. He wants to ‘make a woman’ of Thomas, the lesser, weaker, kinder, prettier, chosen man.

See? See? She has no husband to thwart his conquest! This quailing thing under him can be no man, so it must be a woman. Ha. Ha.

Cue him leaving Thomas on the floor, ass up, for Reasons.

Whether Orlok blithely accepts his attraction to Thomas (he is merely an Appetite, after all) or is grimly wrestling with ye olde compulsory heterosexuality and quietly framing all his weird attentions to Thomas as just him humiliating/emasculating the young man, we also have to turn the lens on Thomas himself.

Theories have been passed around that, given the queer elements of the film, Ellen and Anna, Thomas and Friedrich, all had romantic pasts of their own. Or at least friendships as intimate as they could get away with before they paired up with their respective significant others. Ellen and Thomas especially are heavily bi-coded. Ellen has Anna, naturally (Thank you for loving me), but Thomas has beats with Friedrich, with the unnamed and charismatic leader of the vampire hunting party in the graveyard, and, if only due to Orlok’s trance, Orlok himself.

Even if it was magically induced, Thomas saw a vision of Ellen in Orlok’s place as he was fed on. Seeing it, seemingly experiencing it, Thomas looks to be in a heady stupor as Orlok feeds—blearily welcoming the initial attack and whatever might have followed it.

Cut forward to his breaking from his fever in Ellen’s company, still in traumatized shock, unable to speak on everything that happened to him. She’s seen the bite wounds on him. That isn’t a secret. Something else, something worse—I can’t breathe! Get off me! Get off!—is left unspoken, and he cannot bring himself to admit it to Ellen. Not even after she divulges her history with Orlok. Not even after the fight or the sex or the broken spell and their embrace. Orlok did an awful thing to Thomas that he is too afraid and ashamed to speak aloud, at least on screen. Would it be better or worse if there had not been a memory of pleasure to taint it as it taints Ellen’s assaults? 

Ellen calls Orlok her shame. Now he’s a shame for both of them.

…

With all that said. Yes, ‘love triangle’ is the easiest name to pin on this entire hot mess, if not a perfectly accurate one. Ellen and Thomas are in love, but the right words don’t exist to label the lines that connect Ellen and Thomas to Orlok.

tl; dr: Orlok was never going to make this polycule happen and I will not give him kudos for trying. 

[shineon3]

hiii!!!

maxiel + body swap (32) for the writing game?

(maybe make it a little bit horny 😈 if you want to)

From here. Hiiii! Thank you for the prompt it was super fun to write ^^

Daniel wakes up, disoriented and horribly, horribly sweaty, body tangled in the bedsheets and his heart beating so hard you’d think it was trying to escape his ribcage somehow. He gets up, intending to get some water for his dry throat, and looks down to be met with thick, pale, tattoo-less thighs.

He barely bites back a scream, scrambling up to turn on the light and make his way to the bathroom, muttering under his breath.

“Please be a dream, please be a dream, please be a dream-”

Max’s panicked face stares back at him in the bathroom mirror, blue eyes wide and hair disheveled. Daniel pinches the bridge of his nose - Max’s nose, his brain supplies unhelpfully - and weighs his options. Max was probably stuck in his body right now. God this was such a mess. He walks back to the bedroom, putting on some clothes, and tries to not touch himself any more than necessary. He didn’t need to make the situation any weirder than it is. He picks up Max’s phone, which thankfully opens up with face id, and shoots a text to himself, hoping the dutchman was awake. 

He groans when he doesn’t get any reply after ten, agonizingly long minutes, and decides to go back to his place, where Max surely is. Daniel is fucking glad he thought to give him spare keys, at least. 

_ _ _ 

Max wakes up with a gasp, dream still vivid in his mind. He whines, the sound too loud in the quiet, empty bedroom, and presses a hand against his cock, hips thrusting lightly. He doesn’t remember going to bed naked, but he’s not gonna question it, not when his hard cock begs for attention. He wraps his hand around it, hissing slightly, and he’s just about to look for the bottle of lube that’s somewhere in the drawer of his bedside table when it hits him. 

His dick is big. Like, big big.

It’s longer, thicker, leaking a bit against his stomach and bobbing under its own weight, and it’s also uncut.

Either this is all a dream or… Or Max had swapped bodies with someone and was about to jack them off… 

Both options kind of freaks him out, and he decides to get out of bed and check it out. And, hopefully, he’ll wake up before he gets there. 

No such luck. 

The moment the lights turn on, he catches the beautiful rose inked on his left hand and he knows.

He’s in Daniel’s body.

Guilt churns in his gut, laced with shame and just a bit of heat, and his traitorous cock - Daniel’s cock, he thinks, sending a shiver down his spine - throbs, precum beading at the tip. He closes his eyes, whining, unsure of what to do, until Daniel’s phone pings. The password is still the same as it was when Max first learned about it, and he unlocks the phone to find a text from himself. 

‘Mate, I think we swapped bodies, wtf’

Max doesn’t reply. He’s sure Daniel is already on his way, and he doesn’t think the older will appreciate seeing him like this, disheveled and his boner out. He takes his cock, Daniel’s cock, in hand, carefully pumping up and down. He’ll just have to take care of it before the brunette comes here and- and what, exactly…? There’s never been any actual method to reverse swapping. It usually consisted in waiting it out, but surely Daniel was too busy to do so. He probably didn’t want to be stuck in Max’s body for days. 

Max groans, tightening the grip on his cock, using the precum to smooth out the movements of his hand. His brain drifts, and he wonders, heat building up in his core. What would Daniel do, if he just walked in right now, if he found Max touching himself like this, shamelessly spread on the bed and moaning loudly?

He doesn’t let himself think about it, at first, too ashamed, but then he slowly gives in, too curious to shut down that train of thoughts. 

Would Daniel be weirded out? Or would he find it hot?

Maybe he’d strip, climb into the bed and kiss him, show Max how he liked to be touched, what made him come? Or maybe he’d just sit and guide Max with his smooth, sultry voice, tell him what to do and call him a good boy? Max shudders, the orgasm washing over him like a merciless wave, all his nerves lighting up in pleasure. He pants, shaking from the aftershocks, chest heaving, his sticky hand smearing cum all over his abs. 

And then he sees it. 

Daniel, in Max’s own body, standing by the bedroom door, eyes so wide the black of the pupil swallowed the blue of his iris away. He’s panting softly, cheeks tinged pink, and Max doesn’t have the strength to move a finger, let alone sit up or try to hide. 

“Fuck, Maxy-” The older groans, winded, and just the sound of it sends little sparks of pleasures all through him. “Fuck, that was so fucking hot, oh my god-” 

Daniel doesn’t give him time to reply and crosses the room at the speed of light, pulling Max up for a kiss. It’s weird, for their first kiss to be happening while they’re body swapped, for sure, but Max doesn’t give a shit, fists Daniel’s shirt and pulls him closer. The kiss is messy, all tongues and teeth, and it’s wet, but neither of them cares. Max pulls away after a while, breathless. He’s about to ask Daniel what the plan is when the older strips out of his clothes and pushes him back into the mattress, and honestly? 

He’s more than okay with it.

[https-lvesick]

♡ ⭑.ᐟ 엔시티 드림 . . “first date!”

content . . 𝜗𝜚 boyfriend!dream x fem!reader, fluff fluff fluff!! and down bad dream!

lola’s notes .: and i did it! hahaha truly, i want mark’s date (totally not because i’m biased, but because it looks soooo fun) well, hope y’all like because i had fun writing it!

late night riding with mark lee

You couldn’t sleep, so you sent a message to Mark, asking if he was awake. You didn’t have much hope—after all, it was 2 a.m. Work had been draining your boyfriend, and he usually fell asleep the moment he got home. But to your surprise, he replied. He was about to sleep but just couldn’t put down his phone. Mark was tired, though he would never admit it. Instead, he asked you to get dressed because you were going out.

You questioned him, but he didn’t respond again. So, you changed. Meanwhile, Mark splashed cold water on his face to wake up and only swapped his pants before heading out. Barely twenty minutes passed before he was parked in front of your house, texting you to come outside. The familiar sight of his motorcycle made your heart skip.

The two of you riding through the city at night had always been a favorite thing to do together. There was something inexplicably magical about the way the world looked under the glow of moonlight—the traffic calm, the city finally breathing slower without the chaos of the day.

You wrapped your arms a little tighter around Mark’s waist, your hands lingering as you traced soft circles with your fingers. He felt your touch and couldn’t help but smile to himself beneath his helmet.

There were a few places still open despite the late hour. You stopped by one, wandering into a small store with just a few lights on. Some fast-food joints were still serving customers, and you grabbed quick snacks together. You picked out little trinkets for each other, playful and thoughtful.

When it came time to choose one for him, you found yourself torn between options, debating with the shopkeeper about which one would suit him best. Mark, leaning casually against his bike, watched you with a quiet, adoring smile. The way you lit up over something as small as a superhero keychain made his heart ache in the best way.

He could barely remember a time you looked more beautiful—so animated, so full of joy over something so simple.

By the time you decided it was finally time to head back, he drove you home but didn’t leave. Instead, he stayed, curling his arms around you as you lay together. You talked about where you’d put the keychain and how you planned to add a photo of the two of you to it, your voice soft and filled with warmth.

Mark didn’t hear the rest of your plans. He was already asleep, his breathing deep and steady, lulled into dreams by the sound of your happiness.

painting with huang renjun

Renjun took advantage of your shared love for painting and drawing as the perfect excuse to spend some much-needed alone time with you. You had only been dating for a few weeks, and somehow, you never truly had a moment to yourselves—someone was always around to interrupt. So, he made sure to claim your entire Saturday afternoon, casually mentioning that he’d bought some new art supplies he wanted to show you. He even promised to order hot pot, making the idea impossible to resist.

The afternoon was simple yet full of joy—so lighthearted and meaningful, the kind of day that becomes a core memory in your relationship. It was an opportunity to learn more about each other: your likes and dislikes, the quirks and hobbies you hadn't yet shared, wild life stories, silly habits, and the little things you adored about one another.

You painted a canvas together, your brushstrokes merging in a beautiful, chaotic mess of colors. Then came the portrait challenge, an attempt to capture each other’s likeness with steady hands and focused eyes. But, of course, Renjun accidentally bumped into your brush, smudging your masterpiece into a disaster. The laughter that followed was infectious, filling the room like sunshine.

By the end of the day, the two of you were more covered in paint than the canvas itself. Your cheeks hurt from smiling, your bellies were full, and your hearts were even fuller. As the last light of the evening faded, you realized you’d fallen even deeper for him—and by the way his eyes softened every time he looked at you, he felt the same.

cinema and pizza with lee jeno

It was your first date with Jeno. After finally working up the courage to ask you out, he decided on a movie. At first, you doubted his intentions, but when you saw how focused he was on the film—so much so that he didn’t even notice you—you let it slide. What you didn’t realize was that Jeno had been trying, all evening, to recreate every romantic movie cliché he could think of. From the accidental popcorn-hand touch to the classic arm-around-the-shoulder stretch, you missed it all, oblivious to his awkward attempts.

After the movie, he took you out for pizza, where conversation flowed more easily. Laughter and playful banter filled the air, and Jeno sheepishly confessed his failed romantic gestures. You giggled at his adorable honesty.

On the walk home, he took your hand in his, and a wave of pure happiness lit up his face. His heart raced each time he glanced at your intertwined fingers. At the door, you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek and teased, “I hope you’re free for a second date.”

Trying—and failing—to play it cool, he replied with a simple, “Of course.” The second you disappeared inside, he barely resisted rolling around with glee.

cooking with lee donghyeok

Haechan was absolutely smitten with his girl. Anything involving you? He was all in. So when you suggested cooking lunch together—your favorite dish—he couldn’t resist. It was the perfect excuse to spend time with you, flaunt his questionable kitchen skills, and sneak in a few kisses.

You tied an apron around his waist and planted a peck on his cheek, handing him a knife to chop the vegetables. You knew better than to let him near the stove. Turns out, knives weren’t much safer—he managed to cut himself and immediately whined like a baby. The dramatics ensued until you comforted him, rolling your eyes at his exaggerated pout.

In the end, Haechan sat back, happily watching you cook while claiming the all-important role of plating the food. “Every great chef needs a brilliant assistant,” he grinned, proud of his minimal contribution. Oh, and he made the juice—forgetting the sugar, but that was the least of your worries.

photo session with na jaemin

One of Jaemin’s favorite hobbies was photography. And what better way to indulge in it than by photographing his favorite person? He invited you to the park for a photoshoot, where you’d be his model for the afternoon. You agreed, despite feeling shy about posing—especially in public—because seeing him happy made it worth it.

Jaemin, ever the gentleman, found spots with as few people as possible. He directed you gently, making you feel comfortable. Between every few shots, he stole kisses and showered you with compliments. “You look so beautiful,” he whispered, eyes sparkling with admiration.

He beamed with pride as he captured candid moments of you laughing, your natural charm shining through. His heart swelled with love—his girl, so perfect and radiant.

At the end of the session, Jaemin promised to develop the photos and make an album just for you. “Maybe I’ll give you a few prints if you’re lucky,” he teased. The day had been incredible, and he hoped for many more just like it.

zhong chenle’s favourite date

For Chenle, the perfect date was simple: anything with you. His mission in life was to see you happy. And there was no greater joy for him than spoiling his girl. Whether it was a trip to the mall, a stroll through market stalls, or a visit to quirky little shops—he made it his goal to find something that would make your eyes light up.

Chenle had a talent for remembering the smallest details. That random item you’d mentioned months ago? The one that was nearly impossible to find? He had it. Wrapped neatly, ready to surprise you. Watching your excitement as you unwrapped his gifts was his favorite feeling in the world.

Every moment was filled with sweetness—his hand never leaving yours, his laughter echoing yours. For Chenle, your joy was his greatest treasure.

gaming nights with park jisung

Most of your dates with Jisung were spent gaming. Late-night sessions—whether online, multiplayer, or even single-player—were your shared passion. Your first date? An arcade marathon.

He usually came to your place since his roommates made his home too chaotic. Armed with snacks and drinks, he’d bring the newest games to test together. Your greatest shared accomplishment? Completing Red Dead Redemption 2—an adventure that left both of you in awe.

When the night stretched on and sleepiness crept in, Jisung always tidied up while you got ready for bed. Then he’d join you, wrapping you in his arms, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. He’d play a calm song from his special “sleepytime” playlist, and together, you’d drift off, tangled in warmth and contentment.

did you enjoy your reading? why don’t reblog, like or leave a comment? this way i know you liked what i wrote and surely will keep up with the good content! 𖹭 masterlist

🏷 @jungaji @spacejip @lyvhie @sinisxtea @jirsungs @polarisjisung

[ablogofloveandtrash]

Ok but...

Are we not going to talk about how affected Damon can get when it comes to acceptance and validation? All throughout the segment where Damon had to choose to take back his accusation on Diana with logic or emotions, that throughout the entire thing, the main takeaway was how Diana's actions towards him got to him. The Pathos route shows his internal conflict more but even if the player goes with the logos route, the game still finds a way to show that Damon's emotions do affect him and his judgement. When he sees Diana and hears her cry, his empathic side comes out and part of him begins to feel conflicted on his initial accusation. The others are scared, frightened or angry at Diana, but in the midst of the chaos, Damon begins to feel for Diana. He seems to be aware that Diana was the cause of his inner turmoil yet is unsure of the reason.

Currently I think part of the reason may be simple. It's that Damon has known and felt Diana's kindness before the trial. For in the brief moments they spoke in Daily Life, Damon quietly takes in his thoughts when Diana gave him and Eva the benefit of the doubt. At this point, Damon was probably going on the assumption that the others, especially Wolfgang were not going to be welcoming to him, especially after no one seemed to initially accept his words and mostly deemed that Damon just thought he was 'better' than everyone else. So seeing that Diana still wants to include the two that were casted out and isolated from the rest, Damon adheres to it. To some extent it almost seemed like he is rather drawn to this kindness on a subconscious level. As though he is rather unused to how Diana acts around him, with the way she playfully flirts with him in the first free time event. As he seems speechless whenever Diana expresses joy or excitement even for the little things, when she asks him a few questions in both free time events. Damon clearly has not spoken to many others around him and his lack of sociability is present. But it also shows how sensitive and reactive he is in the situations he is in with Diana involved.

Screen shot below shows his visible reaction to Diana's. He just said 'Sure, I guess.' Provided how excited she looked it makes relative sense that Damon didn't expect someone to find so much delight in his response. But despite how much Damon tries to not express himself as much as Diana does, as he tries to act calm and cool, he does quite the opposite. Reacting to when Diana jokes that Damon could work on his tie. Provoking a reaction out of him. Parts of it even dives on what I could guess as a lack of self esteem for Damon. Because even though he's a loner and doesn't quite wear his heart on his sleeve, he finished the first event feeling overwhelmed. I believe this is due out of him not being used to such flattering company that he didn't quite know how to process it. And provided the way he said it, does seem to establish that Damon at his core really shows that he is lonely and has a sense of self loathing.

Damon almost seems to take in those words like it's some sort of mockery towards him. Like as if, he views self-help as a pointless thing that serves to make fun of him. It rather makes me pity Damon when I saw this. Yet even though he felt exhausted, he seems to feel flattered and touched by her attempts to comfort him. Something he continues to process to the next free time event, when he confronts her on her attempts to please and flatter him. And because of his curiosity and lack of knowledge around kindness, he always finds himself thinking about it. Becoming drawn to it, like something in him deeply yearns for. But his mind fights Damon on it, as he is caught up in the killing game. Because in the game, becoming too trusting with others could make him an easy target. He is suspicious of her behaviour in the second event and even into the night before the first body discovery.

Because as much Damon deep inside wants to be cared for and accepted, he still cannot fully trust her kindness. Yet he is still left thinking about it, as he ignored Tozu's announcements and lets his thoughts stew until he returned to Kai's dorm. This was the last major interaction between him and Diana, up until the trial. And as we circle back to the trial, that is where we see Damon's feelings come to light. before the non-stop debate Damon becomes conflicted about his logic and his feelings. Though he has yet to fully know and trust Diana, a part of him didn't seem to want to give up the sliver of kindness that he's finally recieving. In a game of uncertainty, fear and death. Diana's kindness almost feels like a shelter in Damon's heart. He doesn't want to lose hold of it, nor does he want to be met with the disappointment that Diana could have actually killed Wolfgang. From the way he reacts in the moment, it almost seems like Damon had emotionally craved for something like Diana's unconditional kindness. Even when suspicion was still on Diana, Damon seemed restless about the accusation until he can fully assure that Diana was innocent and that she did not commit the murder. Even after suspicion on Diana starts to clear, that Damon remains vigilant. He isn't as quick to jump to a culprit but he internally reminds himself that while Diana could have thrown the car battery, later into the trial, that it is only a possibility as of now. It is not the truth as of yet.

It's almost certain that Damon has grown attached to Diana, or the kindness she offers him outside of the trial. Perhaps it is from being deliberately isolated is what causes him to become drawn to her. Her concern and affection. For even if it was or wasn't genuine, Damon desperately craved it. These thoughts persist, regardless if you played logos and pathos. But subtly hints more on Damon's emotions if the logos route is played. Yet either way, he recognizes that it's because of Diana, Damon's judgement was affected by her. She's already left an impact on him that he doesn't fully comprehend.

He goes hard on himself for caring so much about how Diana felt, and how much her feelings affects him, that the pathos route doubles down on. His attraction is something he seems to be attempting to push away, even though it is unlikely that his attraction won't go away for the time being. Even if the future may look grim, and that Diana has plans to follow in Wolfgang's footsteps, it's not going to deter Damon from having such profound feelings and attachment. It really makes any possible interactions all the more intriguing with their opposing personalities and views. Yet the two could grow closer in ways we've yet to expect. As with Damon is now left raw and vulnerable from his losses at the end of the chapter, he's even more at the mercy of his emotions rather than not. More so with the way Diana is making him feel. She sees the good in others and because of her influence slowly brings out the good in Damon. Even if he's unsure of it, or ready to acknowledge it, she too could help Damon change for the better. Perhaps if she became a rival, it is to challenge his character and his heart. It's an intriguing take to the rival role if the game goes in that direction.

[gouraminnow]

Shanks anon here and it’s so okay I always love reading your analysis/ the reasoning behind shanks’ character in your yandere fics! It makes your fics feel so real like the characters feel so.. in character when they typically feel ooc in yandere fics.

your response made me wonder- what would shanks or benn (or both ;)- okay I need to stop) be like with an emperor darling? Or an admiral darling since admirals are placed on the same power scale as emperors? I feel like this would require them to actually really have to strategize to get their darling since it’s not as easy as just flexing their position as an emperors crew and just snatching their darling up.

Thank you!! Honestly being OOC is something I worry about. I know it's not the biggest deal ever, it's fanfic and we're already warping things, but I very much obsess over whether or not things feel "right" enough to me, haha. Like yeah yandere versions of characters differ but there are still core aspects of a character that make them who they are.

Rambling under the cut, much lighter on Benn tbh... hint of suggestiveness at the absolute very end like literally the last sentence

Anyway if Mc is another Emperor, then Shanks is gonna try and pester them into an alliance, first of all. He's friendly and laying on the charm, but also a bit more serious than he would be with a civillian or less powerful/experienced pirate. You're someone who could actually potentially cause problems for him if he pushes too hard. A lot more passive, but pays special attention to your movements. If he runs into any of your subordinate crews or other members, he's friendly with them too- willing to assist them in battle if they bite off more than they can chew. Sends them back to you with gifts- both for them, and something meant to be delivered directly to you.

And he "runs into" you too, of course! Very frequently, actually. Throws a party, does his best to draw you and your crew in. All the better to give gifts directly, isn't it? Some quality alcohol is his go-to, but he likes you. Does his best to dig for any interests you may have, learn/estimate your clothing sizes... whether or not Benn is into you as well, Shanks tries to get him to dig a little as well. He'll grunt, maybe even roll his eyes, but approaches you all the same. Probably has more luck anyway, since according to that SBS he scores more ladies than Shanks lmao.

If it's Benn who's interested and not Shanks, then... I think it'd be funny if things don't change all that much, actually. Teases Benn for aiming high, but ultimately decides to try and be a good wingman for his first mate. It's the least he can do, after all! And if he does succeed in getting with you, the resulting alliance will be good for everyone, he reasons. Benn has a headache.

Benn would also send gifts, I think, but they're smaller. More personal and often functional. A small bottle of your favorite spirits, a leather-bound journal, a small piece of subtle but pretty jewelry. A replacement for a scabbard strap that snapped during a skirmish, an extra button when one popped off of your coat... was he even there for that? How did he notice..?

And Benn is no stranger to drinking and partying, of course, but he makes more relaxing company than Shanks. Won't pester you or drag you into things the same way Shanks will, happy to find somewhere a little quieter and just enjoy a shared drink and a moment of quiet.

All in all, kidnapping is far less likely to be on the table. You're on equal footing, and neither man wants the massive clash between Yonkos or the deaths that would result from it that could come from this. They both ultimately want you to like them, after all, and captivity wouldn't break the Will of someone like you even if they did manage it.

An Admiral Mc, on the other hand... oof.

This has a bigger chance of blowing up but Shanks is high-maintenance and loves to court danger. Takes care of troublemakers for you, which pisses you off because you do not need him for that, goddamnit. He likes to antagonize you, knowing you can't just start something without the input of the other Admirals. You're on par with him, but ultimately still a tool for the WG... if you fail, they're more likely to write you off as a failure than a loyal crew would. Would try to get you to defect. Aokiji did it after all, so it's not impossible. But if you're determined to remain a Marine, well... if he can beat you, kidnapping IS on the table here as an alliance is impossible. Uses the danger your subordinates are in against you. The gap between you and them is just too big, are you really willing to risk all of them..? It's worse for an Admiral, tbh. If they can't get you to leave the Marines and join them, and they succeed in taking you for themselves, they're more willing to break you than a fellow Yonko. Can see it becoming something akin to a brat-taming scenario, tbh.

[fizziepopangel]

A Fizziepop Take: Let’s talk about the anti-Blitz bash

I’m still fairly new to Reddit, but I saw this post on it and I wanna talk about it. No hate to the OG Reddit poster or anyone else who shares this opinion, I just have some thoughts about it, so let’s get into it because I actually get the “Fuck Blitz Party”.

Ok, so we all know that Blitz, while being a definite fan favorite in the show, and the shows literal namesake, Blitz is bad at love, BUT in order to talk about why this party is actually “necessary” in a way, we first need to talk about Blitz and his ideas of what love is vs what kind of “love” he himself deserves. Within the fragmented bits of flashbacks and from what we’ve actually heard from the mouths of the characters, we’ve been able to start piecing together backstories for some of them…. But as of right now, I wanna look at the bits and pieces of Blitz’s past that we’ve been slowly accumulating throughout the last 2 seasons because we get to see a lot of what made him the way he is now. Starting off strong, we have an abusive father, a best friend turned enemy, a sister gone no contact, and the tragic death of a mother…. Yikes. Thats like 4 tiers on a tragedy cake, which is why it so heavily influences how he experiences love as an adult; trauma changes the brain chemistry, meaning that from the first time his father spoke down to him and treated him as lesser than Barbie and/or Fizz, the imp’s perception of himself and the world around him began to shift, and with each new trauma came a new sense of everything within and around him. Within his formative years, we see him lose the 3 close relationships (his mom, his sister, and his best friend), and it happens literally one after the other after the other, which in his mind solidified the ideas of worthlessness his father planted in him at such a young age. 

What does this all have to do with Blitz’s exes hating him enough to throw a party about it in the current day? I know a lot of people hate this phrase (myself included honestly), but “hurt people, hurt people”. It’s a cheap line, I know, but there’s not too many ways to explain it that don’t boil down to this idea at it’s core when it comes to Blitz…. But here’s the thing: Blitz never truly wants to hurt anyone, he just kinda does it and even he doesn’t understand completely why he feels the need to fuck up every good thing he seems to get his hands on. On the outside looking in, we as an audience know that Blitz is bad at love because he’s been conditioned to equate his worth with what he can give/what he can do (think of how his dad manipulated him into stealing from stolas, or no one seemed to laugh during his jokes in the circus), and this mentality strongly affected how he’s able to cultivate relationships now because he’s still constantly looking at all his relationships as transactional because it’s the only way he believes he deserves to be loved by anyone. A lot of people say that you can’t love someone until you love himself, meaning that Blitz’s own self hatred is holding him back from meaningful relationships, which is true, but it’s less a case of the imp being unable to love and more a case of him being uncomfortable with intimacy and therefore not entirely knowing how to accept or show it. We that man has so much love in his body to give to those he surrounds himself with that it is almost sickening, but because he’s not comfortable with receiving the same type of loving energy he puts into others, when it happens and someone shows a genuine interest in him past just sex, he panics and goes on the offense. Think of him like a dog who’s been attacked by other dogs; after the first time, they might be a little scared, after the second, they’ll probably start to become a little more skittish and on edge when other dogs approach them even if its someone they once enjoyed being near, but by the third and fourth times its happened, that dog will start viewing every other dog as a potential threat and they’ll react by being the aggressor because “if I hurt them first, they can’t hurt me”.

I know by this point, everyone is probably still like “Fizzie, why does this mean that his exes hate him enough to throw a party like that?” and “How did he date that many people?”

Simply put: Blitz didn’t “date” all those people. If I had to guess, I would honestly say he probably only ever had real relationships with about a quarter of the people at the party. Why is that? Because I Blitz used sex as a coping mechanism for most of his life… if I were to go based solely on vibes, I think this likely started because his father realized he could rent his son out for more “playdates” after what happened with Stolas when they were children, meaning that he would have equated sex with being desired, and I think for a long time being desired in any way was better than not being wanted at all in his eyes… But with his fear of intimacy and being left to rot after having fallen for someone, I think he took the hurt them before they hurt me approach, so I think a lot of the people there were in a mostly one-sided relationship with him, one that Blitz never truly viewed as romantic intimate relationships, hence why he says he can’t believe he’s fucked that many people rather than dated that many. Looking at things from this perspective, it would make a lot more sense since Blitz not viewing most relationships as exclusive would mean he potentially had his connections and fun with multiple people within the same timeline. Do I think Blitz is a cheater? Not by nature, but I also think that when he was using this mentality anyone who wanted to have a relationship with him where he didn’t wander from their bed would have had to explicitly specify that to him, and I think that a lot of these exes either assumed he would hold their relationship to the same standards they did or, when they would bring it up or mention the word ‘love’ in anything more than a joking manner, he would cut and run, likely doing something in the end to show them that he was not worth the love they attempted to pour into him, like he did with Verosika.

Assuming this is the way things went down with the exes at the party, it’s likely that a lot of them never truly got the closure they needed to fully heal from hurricane Blitz… And though I don’t think he ever meant to hurt this many people to that point, I think it was a sort of wakeup call to him to see that not only have these people trauma bonded over him to the point where the party is almost like a support group for these people, but it also opened his eyes to how Stolas felt about him because he was at this party to essentially drink the heartbreak away for the night. Despite the end of Stolitz being heartbreaking, I think that the party scenes were necessary to the beginning of Blitz’s personal growth story-line, and the potential beginning of a better version of the Stolitz we all love.

Anyway… as always this is only the humble opinion of a simple Fizziepop, and I’d love to know what other people think about the annual gathering of his exes to trauma bond over one man. I personally love the way it plays into Stolas and Blitz’s  breakup and healing arcs…. And also I’m a pisces so I do tend to be a lil dramatic sometimes and live for things and people as dramatic and extra as I tend to be.

[ofbckers]

A phrase of great importance rang in Basil's head as he watched Peter pour over the concept of trust between them - the hesitation, the slight confusion, the quiet yet sharp bite of his voice. When someone tells you who they are, you should believe them. Is that what Peter was doing, telling Basil who he was now? Basil had believed a lot of things about Peter over the years, believed in him being a strong adult with good values and work ethic. Moral ethics too, if Basil had done his job well. Though, that point was entirely debatable now, and was one Basil felt all too uncomfortable discussing.

Of course stories of pirates and princes weren't to be believed, but that wasn't the stories they were talking about here. Peter had just spun a little here-say around about the "lost boys" and their affinity for shadows, the theatricality of it all. The phantasmic idea of danger that came with working in the underbelly - not much to go off of in terms of clues and facts. It would not have been much to believe at all, if it weren't punctuated by the strain in Peter's throat. When he was done with it all, through gritted teeth, he'd still had the faculty to say Basil... shouldn't believe him. Shouldn't believe that the lost boys exist? Or shouldn't believe that Peter knows nothing about them?

Peter's insistence that he was not trustworthy begged the very relevant question of what exactly he didn't think Basil should believe. Or better yet, who he shouldn't believe in, even after all this time.

"I can. I'd say a vague recollection of rumors and stories makes you, quite frankly, a terrible witness, in fact," Despite it all though, Basil did not want to believe that Peter was a terrible person. When he was asking questions like this, Basil aired in the caution of treating everyone like witnesses ( though the initial reason he'd come to survey the bar was long forgotten now ). Right here, now, Basil was becoming disturbingly aware that the conversation had gotten ahead of him too fast. He'd fallen into the deep end of mixing personal and professional feelings, and yes, even the great Basil could admit when he was drowning. If he'd just had a moment to think, he could slow down and get at what he was meaning to say at its core. That Peter wasn't a witness, but just someone who Basil would always be open to a conversation with. Maybe the detective wasn't so different from some of the gang leaders in town - he could certainly relate to fighting for those slivers of loyalty he hoped were still there.

"I suppose I just wanted to listen to you," Not that either of them could be particularly candid with the other at this point, but they could try. So what if Peter wasn't a great witness in court, he was a witness for Basil as a human being - and vice versa. Whether they liked it or not, they were both living proof and testimony that things hadn't always been this way, "Do you want me to believe you?"

Peter fought against the urge to roll his eyes at Basil's conclusion that the lost boys ran on the same principles as the other gangs in town, knowing firsthand just how wrong that assumption was. every gang required loyalty; of course, they would lose power without it, but it was different with the lost boys. the loyalty between them wasn't merely a byproduct of their business dealings, a necessity to keep them functioning; their loyalty was worth something; it had been earned. and despite his violent reputation that frequently implied otherwise, he did actually value his lost boys as a family above all else — a trait that he knew many of the other leaders didn't quite share. they viewed their people as dispensable, a chess piece to gamble with as they saw fit; meanwhile, he saw his people as something worth trying to protect.

but on his worst nights, on what he feared were his most honest nights, he'd wondered just how much of that he told himself to make himself feel better — if maybe, after all these years masquarading as a leader as equally ruthless as the rest, he'd actually become one. " you wouldn't think that they cared all that much about allegiance; based on all of the infighting you can see happening around town at most hours of the day. " it was one of the reasons that Basil was so passionate about stopping all of the gangs, he imagined — the fact that they always ended up making their fights everyone else's fight in the end. he'd never been one to sit back and quietly allow that kind of injustice; it was one of the things that had made him feel so heroic to Peter back in the day and one of the things that now made him feel so suffocatingly unreachable. " but you're probably right. if the lost boys do exist, they're probably just another gang fighting for loyalty like the rest of them. "

Peter, I take everything you say quite seriously. his head turned to face the detective instinctively, eyes a little wide and almost panicked, as he heard those words. was this another game? a tactic to catch him off guard enough to reveal more? it seemed unlikely. Basil was cunning, smarter than most ever gave him credit for truthfully, but he'd never been cruel — not intentionally and not maliciously. but the alternative, the idea that Basil could've been saying it simply because he meant it, was so much worse. if Basil was going to give up on him either way, why couldn't he at least give him the peace of mind of a clean break? why did he have to hold some reserve of faith for him? to give him hope? " you shouldn't. " he choked the words out, not proud of how small they sounded. " my stories aren't usually worth that much weight. "

the facade that he'd put firmly into place since the very beginning of their conversation, that he'd been putting into place since the day that he'd walked out of Basil's home for the very last time, crumbled just slightly. he trusted him? implicitly? now? still? no, he couldn't. it wasn't fair of him to believe in him now, when there wasn't anything left in him worth believing in anymore. he turned his gaze away sharply, an uncomfortable guilt gnawing at his chest. " why? I'm sure you can find much better witnesses. "

[decodedparagram]

I'm so worried. I'm so worried. Everything I see looks like "oh yeah Mr peanutbutter is such a bad person on season 5-6" "Mr peanutbutter? Yeah that jackass is as bad as Bojack" AND IM. WORRIED. I DO NOT WANT HIM TO BE A BAD PERSON. IM STARTING. TO FEEL. LIKE I RELATE TO HIM. WHAT IS THISSS

[sunb0ts]

something that always gets me about klavier is that he is so clearly just like. friendly. he cares so much and he cares too much. he's one to tease simultaneously but he so clearly just like. loves and loves and loves, even when it puts him in harm's way, he likes people and he likes being around people enough to be desperate for it and for friendship like. ough

[ronanlynchbf]

see too many ppl still defending jdepp or running with the "mutual abuse" angle so here's a video presenting basically all the (publicly available btw! for anyone to be able to look up!) information on this case. Let it be known if you still support jdepp i am assuming you have never done a grain of research into this in your life and just ran with public opinion and misinformation

[braceletofteeth]

Support verb.

1. to uphold or defend as valid or right;

2. to encourage, comfort, help, etc., under trial or affliction.

[leori-the-unlearned]

the way digimon does conflict/drama between two characters who should be or are close: chef’s kiss <3

the way sonic idw handles creating conflict/drama between two characters who should be or are close: *wilting flower*

[swallowtail-ageha]

Head empty thoughts full of the antigone incest essay

[whypolar]

If they end up making Elendira some kind of (partial? attempted?) clone of Knives in Stampede that will just make me even sadder that she's stuck as a child and probably has a different personality. Thinking about the kind of interactions Elendira and Legato have in the manga but with that angle added is making me lose it

Everyone involved would hate it so much

[blkkizzat]

❝AYY, FUCK YO IG, I PUT SOMETHIN' ON YO SONOGRAM— I'M THE MAN.ᐟ❞

─•──── FARMHAND!TOJI X BIMBO!READER

꥟ summary: farm au. you and toji can't keep your hands off each other since he first turned you out in the barn and he's determined to put a baby in you ASAP! ꥟ wc: 2088 ꥟ a/n: I had to do something for my mans for his bday and I MADE it in my time zone at least (pst) FarmHand!Toji just comes so easy to me.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DADDY TOJI.ᐟ

[ read p1: here ]

FarmHand!Toji who after the first time fucking you senseless in the barn can't keep his hands off of you. God, it's so hard for him to get any chores and shit done when your young tight cunny spreads so willingly for him.

Out in the pastures, the herd of cows block the distant view of the both of you from the farm. Making it the perfect location for Toji to freely fuck you sloppy like you've been pouting for all morning.

Wanting to tease his sweet lil' Bunny, Toji would have made you wait even longer (so he could do a bit of actual work) but you always kept him on his toes. You were so much of a brat you pushed limits with him constantly.

This time your achieve your naughty goal by flashing him your pantyless pussy.

"Whoops, must have forgot to put some on this morning! I'm so silly huh, Daddy?"

You bat your lashes and sway your jiggling hips so innocently. Like the hot sun wasn't glistening off the gooey slick drenching your puffy pussy lips —it was fucking obscene.

Obviously, Toji is hard instantly but you still needed to be taught a lesson and he'd yet to keep his promise of 'fucking some manners into your haughty cunt.'

You clearly still didn't know how to act.

What with his lil' Bunny skipping around the farm all morning bare assed and so nonchalantly too?

How many times does he have to remind you he'd kill someone over you?

No one else was allowed to see what belonged to him alone...

Jealous as hell, Toji angerily snatches you up as you squee in excitement finally getting what you'd been craving. Easily flipping you over, Toji's large muscular arms drapes you over the old wooden fence like you were a mere feather.

The fact that Toji was supposed to be patching up said fence, not causing further structural damage from how hard he was about to tear your ass up is not lost on him. He simply just can't bring himself to give a fuck at the moment, not when you get him so riled up like this. Pushing your thin white sundress up your back, Toji doesn't even need to prepare you before he ruts into your heated core. Honestly, it didn't take Toji long at all to mold your pretty lil' pussy to the shape of his stocky girth. Your wet warm hole welcomes him back eagerly like it was his home. The pull of that creamy cunny of yours sucking him deeper to the hilt—even before his own hips could shealth himself fully inside—shit.

"That's a good girl bunny, that pussy opens up so good f'er me now, n'—HELL... She's just as fuckin' tight too."

Pistoning forward, Toji doesn't waste time with warming you up with slow strokes.

Not when you act out like this.

He knows once you get this way you are practically begging for him to pound you rough, deep and fast.

True to the nickname he bestowed you Bunny, you wanted him to fuck you stupid like one daily. Demanding Toji's hefty cock be plunged into your cunt during all hours of the day—especially at night.

Your slutty pussy was so hungry for his dick stretching her, you even foolishly volunteered the farm's security codes to Toji. Meaning he could slip not only in and out of your room at night —but the farm entirely. This was excellent for the illegal business he was forming under the cover of the farm.

Little risk of getting caught now too.

That old farmer slept like the dead and he'd been able to bribe the less than scrupulous night security workers.

Heh. Smuggling contraband in now was a breeze.

But in order for his plan to be put fully in motion he needed to knock you up quickly. Cumming in your quivering pussy 3-4 times a day was a necessity and Toji was more than up for the task.

He needed a baby in you yesterday.

And yet the way your greedy pussy hungered for him, strangling his length every time you came on his cock for the nth time made him think she secretly wanted to be a mommy too —you were the only one who didn't know that yet. You milked him so well like you were made for Toji to breed you —just waiting all this time for his nefarious ex-con cock to destroy you.

Toji grunts escalate as the old fence creaks and shakes from him brutishly bullying himself further into your guts. You moan deeply with every maddening thrust of his pelvis forcing his thick meaty cockhead to kiss your womb.

"Shiiit..Mmmm—OOOH!" The rebound of your plump ass ripples against his pelvis and Toji thinks its his favorite sight in the world. Both hands on your hips, Toji digs crescents into your flesh as he drives him into you over and over, deeper and deeper. The vulgar noises of moist skin slapping echo from your bodies —bodies which only get hotter and wetter under the oppressive heat of the sun and it's all so intoxicating. Your chest heaves as you take desperate breathes, your lungs struggle to even expand with how roughly Toji plowing into you.

There's nothing you can do but dangle there and let Daddy Toji use you like he wanted—not that you would have it any other way, loving when his cock purees your mind into just as much of the sloppy mess as your pussy. Toji could tell by your cries too just how your ass liked to be ferally manhandled like you were one of these barn animals.

"Yeah that's right my slutty brat 'moo' louder f'er Daddy while ya squirt on his cock. Ya wanna let this whole farm know who's making you feel this good, huh ma?"

You whine at Toji likening your pleasure filled sobs to that of cow noises but you're needy 'lil cunny only squeezes him tighter —just as he knew she would. Toji knows how much you like him talking crazy to you when he's fucking you six ways to Sunday, balls smacking your clit.

Thankfully no one could actually hear you from way out here. Meaning he was free to spew all kinds of nasty shit into your ear drawing even more slobber from your swollen pussy lips. It only made you hotter on the inside your mind only focusing on his debased dirty talk and the drag of his cock against your g-spot —Toji was hitting it perfectly from this angle. "Ya know ya fuckin' suck at milking cows but this juicy pussy? She sure knows how t'milk a cock like its 'er job." And it would be your job too if Toji had any say. Fuck going back to school at the end of summer and fuck getting a career. You didn't need to do anything but lay on your back and let Toji do the rest. Heh, you wouldn't be able to do much else but be on your back once you started growing his kids inside you anyway. He'd keep you nice n fucked out to the point you'd almost stay pregnant.

Spanking your ass harshly, the sting fills fresh tears on your already bleary eyes. You squeak between your pitchy moans as your pussy weeps so much of your arousal around your sex and down your thighs the squelchy gurgles of your creamy cunt are heard throughout the field.

"S'gudddd Daddy! HAH—HARDER!!"

You really are the perfect slut for him. Wanting him to go harder?

Could you even handle that?

As your reward Toji gifts you another spank, shaking the fence entirely now as it sways on its exposed hinges. It's a miracle it's still standing.

But Toji was determined to have you all for himself, to have everything —you, the farm, a wife —to bring Megumi here away from his twisted ass family so you could be the mother he never had. Thoughts of domesticating you makes him want to bust in you even more as he chases his release.

Wrapping an arm around your middle Toji lifts you so he can thumb at your clit. The rough pad of his thickest digit scrapes over your bud sending rapid tingles through your body that has drool pouring out of your mouth and cunt. "Daddy's gonna put his milk in y'er tummy, yeah Bunny? Tell me ya want it slutty mama —beg me f'er it."

But you can't beg, you can't do anything but ride the rapturous wave of pleasure radiating from your core as you squirt on his cock like a good Bunny. Your orgasm following soon after with enough force from erratic rhythm of spasms in your walls to make Toji spurt is scorching seed inside you. Filling your womb as you purr from the sensation.

Toji bites harshly down on your shoulder —another mark you'd have to hide from your uncle —who thought you were just a rather clumsy girl getting so many marks on you from your farm chores.

Slicked in sweat and your gushy pussy's fluids Toji slumps forward still inside you, his entire weight bearing down on you.

"T-Tojiiiii!" You whine in that pretty, utterly angelic way Toji usually can't resist but he had to keep his cock plugged in you a bit longer if he wanted a baby in you by the end of the month. He eases up a bit though, rubbing your sore ass cheeks and murmuring something about 'when he finally gets to use your ass' as his thumb ghosts aimlessly over your puckered hole.

When Toji finally pulls out of you, you're barely standing. Slumping your elbows on the fence, your hips went a bit numb from being folded like a pancake over the rough wood fence with a big man like Toji putting his weight on you.

Truthfully, Toji didn't even want to pull out. He could go a few more but you need to get back to the farm soon before your uncle came around looking. He'd question you if you kept missing lunch everything.

As if you could read Toji's thoughts you pipe up, voice a bit hoarse already from all your moaning. "I told my uncle I'd probably walk to the lake again today. So he won't be expecting me back until the evening, you know..." After enough feeling returns to your lower body you push off the fence and prance over to a nearby tree at the edge of the clearing. Pulling off your dress fully you lay it down on the lush green grass in the shade. Fully nude, the sun peeks through the shade's leaves, decorating your skin in its shadowed rays.

You stretch like a cat on your makeshift dress-blanket. Spreading your legs wide and arching, you gaze over to Toji from under your babydoll lashes. He's already on his way over to you. "Looks like I'm your lunch today Daddy... c'mon n' eat me up before I get cold."

Oh you didn't know what you fucking did to him... or maybe you did?

You were clever sure but all reason flew out the window when it came to Toji from the minute he first jammed his cock into your lewd sappy cunt.

Heh, you wanted FarmHand!Toji to ruin you? Well little did you know that's exactly what he planned to do anyway— trap you, and ruin your life and that pussy of yours at the same time.

꥟

Back on farm an old dusty white bus stops at the gate.

A lone prisoner exits, a man accused of being a serial killer— 27 victims all skinned and gutted mercilessly like fish in under two years.

However, the man has always protested his innocence.

The evidence at best was circumstantial, with a conviction based solely off of a lone witness who was later proven to be unreliable. As a result the appeal of his life sentence is currently in process, much to the excitement and anger, respectfully, of both his many supporters and detractors.

Yet the way his P.O. comically cowers is a stark contrast to the vibe of the prisoner. The tall, well built convict appears calm, somber even.

This was really the man that killed 27 people?

His eyes survey his surroundings with the hesitant curiosity of a puppy—nothing like the dangerous threat the courts or his P.O. make him out to be. Handed over into your uncle's care, the flighty P.O. quickly gets back on the bus, signalling the driver to get ghost quickly as if your uncle would change his mind at the last minute.

Your uncle on the other hand isn't intimidated at all by the notorious, supposedly innocent, pigtailed cold blooded killer. "Welcome to the farm, son. Like I tell everyone, just do as your told and stay outta trouble —you'll do fine I reckon. Don't fuck this up now, boy. In your case especially, this is the chance to prove yourself worthy of an appeal or its back to solitary for life Choso Kamo."

꥟

♡ blkkizzat ©2023-2025 ♡ — 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐍𝐎 𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫— 𝐚𝐢 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐬, 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐦, 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬.

꥟ a/n: oh hehe, i wonder what will come of toji's plan now that Farmhand!Choso has arrived 😈😩? Also y'all think he's innocent or guilty? 💕🤭 tysm for reading! lol idk if i end up writing more of this but this is my no pressure, for fun project (i whipped this up in like 3 hrs so whether i will or when it will come out i can't say~ i already have sm on my plate but farmhand!toji is special to meee and its his bday so had to run it back on him. i may come back edit this since i was rushing sorry for any mistakes! reblogs and comments appreciated!

[cosmictheo]

𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘 | hwang in-ho

( gif credits to @lalaray )

—summary: for some reason, player 001 seems to like you a little too much, way more than you think. amongst the chaos after the mingle game, he gets closer to you. —pairing: hwang in-ho/young-il/player 001 x female!reader —word count: 4.5k —warnings: bro has a lot of names, +18, smut !!! (minors dni), most definitely ooc!in-ho, descriptions of the reader having female genitalia, some porn with some plot, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, slight voyeurism? (a guard outside the bathroom listening all the tea💀), sub in-ho!!!, obsessive, possessive behavior, mentions of stalking, slight manipulation, in-ho being a slut for the reader, they want each others bodies so bad, panic attack, blood, killing, yk usual squid game stuff.

writer’s note: english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!

The first thing you saw were Young-il's eyes, and then you sensed his hands resting on your shoulders, a subtle touch but one that struck your entire core, sending shivers up and down your spine, snapping you out of the trance of shock, drawing you back to reality and back to him.

“Hey, hey, shhh...” he spoke softly, leaning close to you, making all you focused on was him, his voice, his eyes, the way his lips uttered your name. Him, him, him...

“Young-il?” you breathed out, matching your respiration to his ever-calm one.

He nodded his head slightly, his fingers stroking your shoulders soothingly. “You're okay. You did so good. It's over now” his soft whispers felt like an anchor back to earth, anchors you were clinging to with all your might.

“I got you” he assured you, helping you to your feet again. It was only then that you noticed that you were still in the room set of the third game, there was only you and him left in the arena, and the multitude of bodies sprawled around the bloodstained floor, of course. Noticing your gaze drift to the dead people, his hand lifted to your chin, standing right in front of you to block your field of vision and reduce it to just him, his serene face and piercing eyes, “Just look at me, angel. Keep those pretty eyes on me, yeah?”

He delicately pleaded you, his thumb tracing patterns of grazing caresses on the skin of your chin, treating you as carefully as possible. 

And you complied, of course, succumbing to the gentle darkness contained within his eyes. Like a little lamb falling into the wolf's trap.

“There you are,” a little, honest smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

A couple of guards were standing near you, watching you in silence and strangely, allowing Young-il to comfort and help you during your panic attack. The first one you had since you had arrived in the horrifying place, you hadn't cracked once, holding a tough and fearless armor.

“You are safe with me. Nothing will happen to you,” his other hand moved down from your shoulder through your arm, igniting a warm flush on your skin under the passage of his palm, all the way down to encounter yours, his fingers intertwining between yours. “I'll make sure of that, okay?”

You merely manage a trembling nod, holding his gaze. His reassuring, gentle demeanor was all you needed at that moment, in that strange place, full of strangers, he seemed to be the only familiar sight to you, the light among all the ruthless darkness. And his face, exuding concern, completely captured your heart.

Young-il offered you that one protector figure you always needed, that someone to rely on and trust even in your darkest moments.

“Come with me, please” one of the guards, the one with a square outlined on his mask, interrupted your moment, stepping up beside you, his gun pointed at the ground and not at either of you, thank goodness. His voice held a diplomatic, yet polite tone, glancing at the two of you. Young-il glanced at him with a scowl on his face, not too happy that the guard had popped onto the scene, apparently, his gaze went ice cold in the span of a millisecond, “Sir, miss, you need to go back to the main room with the other players.”

“The lady needs to freshen up a bit, could I accompany her to the bathrooms?” Young-il asked— no, rather, he actually demanded of the armed guard, his demeanor shifting to an authoritative one, straightening up and looking at the masked man with imposing eyes.

The guard looked from Young-il to you and back to him, finally nodding his head just once after a few seconds of contemplation, looking at him too long, nearly as if he was considering Young-il's expression, “Of course. Come with me, please.”

You did not decide to comment on the strange behavior of the guard, even they had been acting like human beings, empathetic and considerate. You really couldn't think of anything much at all, all you could focus on was Young-il's hand placed on your lower back as you walked together through the winding, ridiculously colorful corridors and staircases inside the seemingly infinite building.

His touch had your mind a fuzzy blur and the panic and self-doubt in your veins had already been well forgotten, replaced by a state of constant flushing, feeling so small next to him. The feeling was a good one, though. Definitely.

Ever since you had met him he had seemed to have a special liking for you, always making sure you were safe and secure, putting you above the others, making you feel protected and seen. Before every game he made sure he stayed by your side, willing to take whatever risks were necessary for both of you to come out of it alive. Gi-hun had told you a couple of times that he liked you, much more than a friend, but you refused, huffing that it wasn't the place to think about that, much less regarding a man who was married, supposedly. The two of you had really bonded so well, as if you had somehow known each other for a very long time before this.

Once you were in the bathrooms, Young-il closed the door behind both of you, leaving the square guard just outside, and then guided you towards the sinks, opening one so you could take a sip of water.

“Let me...” he quietly whispered, rolling up the sleeves of his turquoise tracksuit and soaking his hands for a few seconds before raising them to your face, running his fingers gently across your cheekbones, removing traces of blood droplets that had been lucky enough to land on your skin, he thought to himself. For some reason, everything felt more intimate than it should have.

You stood in silence, watching him with big, attentive eyes as he wiped your face delicately, as if your skin were the finest porcelain. All that could be heard for a few moments was the water running from the sink and the thundering beat of your heart, desperate to flee out of your chest and leap into his.

“Young-il?”

“Hm?” he hummed, very much focused on cleaning your face, his countenance encouraged you to ask him anything you wanted, it was peaceful and gentle.

“Why do you care so much about me?” you dared to ask him, in a low tone, brave enough to hold his gaze, which softened at your question.

He held back his hands, pulling them away from your face very slowly, analyzing your flushed face for a few moments, contemplating an answer.

“You're special. Very different from the others.”

Young-il sympathized with you, with your history, your person. Usually when he looked at you, he saw his old self, from before all this. He saw in you the good side of things, your good heart, your innocence and kindness, you were much more than a pretty face. He could see past your usual gloomy and pouty face, past your sharp and too cunning eyes, you were too much for that place. And that's why he intended to take you out of there and keep you with him, to have you by his side to care for you and provide for you.

He was excited about the idea of getting to know you further, like a new game in which he had to crack his way through. And In-ho, he was good at games.

You blushed slightly, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, “Special?”

Young-il spun around, allowing you to see his side profile as he washed his hands in the sink, concealing the impulse to smirk as he noticed the immediate effect his words had on you. He had you right where he wanted you. 

Now he wasn't wearing his usual dark mask, capable of covering his each and every emotion, no, now his expressions and gestures were for everyone to see, so he had to try a little harder than usual to be cautious. As you too were very careful and cautious, always attentive to your surroundings, you had figured out the objective of the last games as soon as you arrived at the arenas. It had been a record, no other player had been as interesting and quick-witted as you. You only needed a couple of minutes, a scan through the walls, the equipment brought by the guards, and you already had the answer. You were a prodigy. Not even he knew what you were doing in there to begin with, when you should have been in the best university.

You would definitely be a favorite of the filthy V.I.P.'s and that, for some reason, made him uneasy.

“Mhm...” he hummed once again, wetting his face now, refreshing himself as well, thoughtfully, “That makes you dangerous.”

His eyes held a slight playfulness as they met yours now, and his pupils expanded as he watched you step closer to him, unwrapping your sweatshirt from around your waist and lifting it up to his face, gently wiping and drying his skin with it, running the cloth carefully over his cheekbones, forehead and chin, drying every drop of water, sweat and blood that rolled across his skin.

“Why?” you tilted your head, big, interested eyes watching him intently as you carefully wiped his cheeks.

Young-il gazed at you for a few seconds, feeling himself swooning at the careful way you were treating him. He cleared his voice subtly before replying to you, in all honesty, “You're the only one I care about in here.”

Usually In-ho encountered with people who looked at him with fear, with trembling hands, hesitant voice and submissive manners. Most guards were like that with him, he was the Front Man after all. Just a movement of his fingers, a word emitted by his voice, was enough for the whole building to move at his command, for anyone to race to do what he ordered.

But you... you simply reached out to him, touched him, treated him with care, with gentleness and softness, looking at him with warm and sympathetic eyes.

“No other person makes me feel both weak and strong” he rasped out, quietly, his warm breath brushing against your lips, which gaped at his words, his choice of words, “That's dangerous for a man like me”

You motioned to pull your hand away from his face, but he was quick to grab your wrist, stopping the movement.

“Young-il, you're married, I can't—” you hurriedly opted to go the right way, trying to talk some sense into him, shaking your head softly, blinking several times within a single minute. Your heart was already starting to beat faster and he could feel it through his thumb placed on your pulse.

He shook his head, seeking your gaze, his fingers gently squeezing your wrist, not wanting you to move too far away from him.

“I'm not married. I lied” he revealed to you, almost desperately. There was no reason for him to lie to you on that, because he knew that you were someone he could trust, and that everything that was going to happen there, would remain within those walls. A little complicity. A minor crack in the script, in the whole scheme that he had been working on for weeks.

You let him grab your wrist and the jacket of the tracksuit you had previously held in your hand fell to the floor, making a muffled noise that echoed off the quiet walls of the bathrooms. Your brow furrowed slightly, not understanding what he was talking about now.

“You lied? Why?” you asked in a low tone, as if anyone could hear you. It seemed, at least it felt like too private and all too intimate a conversation for anyone to overhear.

“I didn't want to push you away and scare you with my... life resolutions” Young-il lowered your hand now joined with his, looking at you with brighter eyes than usual, “It was the wiser thing to do.”

“Resolutions?” all you appeared to be doing was asking and asking, and In-ho, right there and then, was willing to answer all you wanted to know. Your tone of voice drifted into playfulness, void of judgment or disgust, on the contrary, you reassured him, “All of us here have made bad choices in our lives, that's why we're here. We're all the villains of society”

“Villains...” he repeated, savoring the word and approving it with a gentle nod of his head. Then he tugged on your hand, lifting it to his face, placing an affectionate kiss on your knuckles, doing all of that while keeping eye contact, “But you're not bad, not like them, not like me. You're just so good, angel.” There was the petname again, and it held the exact same effect as when he first called you that, making you blush softly, your legs trembling just barely, your core reacting instantly, your body succumbing to his, longing for him.

His fingers caressed the palm of your hand tenderly, “You have no blood on your pretty hands, no perversity in your little head, no, you're a good girl. You always have been, right?”

He read you like an open book, even though you had been cautious and reserved since the games had begun, you had not let anyone in, much less pass over the walls you had built around yourself. Yet in the span of a few minutes, Young-il had ripped them apart, tearing his way through them, into you.

You caught a glimpse of pity in his eyes.

“You don't have a debt, you just don't have anyone out there waiting for you, to take care of you, provide for you” At his words, you gulped, watching him kiss your knuckles once again, making your heart race, then his lips kissed your pulse on your wrist, and after that, he tugged you closer, placing your palm against his chest, making you feel the beat of his heart as well, “I could be the one. I could take care of you, protect you, give you everything you want. There wouldn't be anything I wouldn't do for you and those eyes. You'd just have to stick by my side, look pretty for me, hm?”

In-ho had been watching you, of course, ever since you had met Gon Ji-cheol in the subway, ever since you had encountered Gi-hun. He knew your life completely, he had grown obsessed with you. You were everything he needed, everything he wanted, the missing piece in his new life. The anchor he desperately needed, yearned to hold on to.

And to your flesh he clung, his lips making a path of light, but tentative kisses on the back of your hand, across your skin, up your arm.

“Young-il...” you breathed out his name a bit stunned by the whole sudden confession. At the sound, he felt his limbs tremble, his lips had reached your bicep and it wasn't until he kissed your shoulder that he opened his eyes so he could look at you with raw adoration, his breath joining yours at the closeness.

“I'll get you out of here, safe and sound. I won't let them touch a hair on your head” he promised, reassuring you, pulling you in, inviting you to slip into his orbit, “I just need you to trust me”

Your eyelashes grazed your cheeks as you blinked slowly, your hand rising to his shoulder, thumb brushing his neck, “How will you do that?”

“Trust me” he pleaded, staring at you for a few seconds before leaning down into you, both of his hands landing on your waist, holding you against him, his face nestled into your neck, he began to press his lips into your skin, kissing it. You close your eyes in utter pleasure, feeling yourself getting all aroused, suffocated by all the attention, the sweet words, his desire for you. 

“Would you do that for me?” he rasped out against your skin before kissing it, sucking lightly, “...hm?”

You nodded, swallowing hard, his lips rapidly kissing your throat, and suddenly, everything was him, his mouth, his breath, his hands squeezing your waist. Him... 

You lifted your chin, allowing him more access to the soft flesh of your neck, seductive lips exploring every inch of your skin.

“Yes”

“That's my girl” he cooed with tenderness, kissing your neck one last time before pulling away from it so he could look at you, not even letting you breathe the air that had slipped out of your lungs for the entirety of his doing, before he was kissing your lips like a starving man.

He breathed against your lips in between frantic open-mouth kisses. He almost felt himself melt as his ears were blessed by the delightful little noises leaking out of your mouth, panting and low moans escalating up your throat.

“Young-il…” you whispered his name, your voice sheepishly lowering as you noticed the look in his eyes, your hands clasped around his neck, fingers trembling from the thrill and sudden shame that shook you.

“Jump” he said, his tone of voice heavy with command, his hands reaching around your waist and down onto your ass to lift you up effortlessly onto the side of the sinks, balancing himself tight against you in between your legs, which wrapped around his hips and pressed him further into you, under an instinctive impulse.

You panted against his lips as you felt his erection against the inside of your thigh, his body eagerly surrendering to yours in desperation.

His commanding voice and face were something that really turned you on even more, if that was even possible. It wasn't usual for him to be this stern with you, he was usually like that with the other players, with strangers, always cautious, quiet and tactful, meticulous of his every step and every word.

“W-wait— we're going to fuck in h-here?” you somehow managed to asked in between frantic, breathless kisses, barely opening your eyes, catching him with an expression of raw lust, pupils fully dilated now.

Young-il smirked playfully, allowing you to catch your breath for a moment, hands caressing your skin appreciatively beneath the fabric of your shirt, before dropping down and laying on either side of you against the sinks, veins bulging against his skin, “You want to do it in the other room? I don't mind having an audience.”

His little tease and the way he tilted his head made you blush furiously, fingers nuzzling the back of his neck, curling between locks of his hair.

“The guard will hear us...” you tried to talk some sense into him, whispering quietly to him, leaning your head even closer, as if you were little kids sharing a forbidden secret.

But Young-il stood his ground, kissing your lips shortly, to reassure you, noticing the worry in your big eyes, “Don't worry about him, don't worry about anyone,” his hand snaked between your bodies, spreading your legs a little further apart, “He won't hear a thing, they never hear or see anything. Not if they are ordered not to”

One of his hands reached up, stroking your hair soothingly, sensing the softness of your locks between his fingers. You were perfect, perfect. And he just knew he could lose all track of time, if it meant letting himself fall into you, touching you, feeling you, worshipping you.

"Lift your hips for me, yeah?”

Obedient, you lifted your hips just a little, letting him pull the hem of your tracksuit pants down your legs, taking it out of the way of obstructing his path into you.

“I know you want this as much as I do, you don't have to say it,” he cheekily smiled, looking up at you once he had lowered your pants down until they were at the level of your ankles. On his journey upwards, he kissed the side of your leg, your knees and your thighs without taking his eyes off yours, he was ruthless and you looked so pretty to him.

“Your body speaks to me, it has spoken to me since the first game. I've noticed the way you look at me. You are a naughty girl.”

You heaved a sigh, closing your eyes and pulling your head back as his hand dipped into the center in between your legs, feeling the wetness of your panties and the heat, your cunt pulsing around nothing. Your hands, now on either side of you clasped onto the ceramics of the sinks, your back arching beautifully.

You can't help the way your body trembles, flutters and simply submits when his finger rubs your swollen clit through your panties, feeling your face and your whole body flush, feeling a sudden wave of embarrassment at the magnitude of his words and the enormity of all that was happening.

“Look at you,” he cooed, eyes locked on your pussy once he had pulled down your panties with precise but desperate motions, ran his index and middle fingers through your slick folds, making you moan, “you're soaking wet for me, just for my kisses? Fuck, you are so beautiful. My pretty, dirty girl. Letting herself be touched by a stranger.... but then again, not a stranger at all, hm?” his voice almost sounded mocking when it reached your ears, “I need to taste you,” his gaze moved up to your face, and he looked nearly pleading, he licked his lips in anticipation, fingers sinking just barely into the small entrance of your core, “may I?”

“Please—” You at once nodded feverishly, almost whimpering over the words that rushed into your throat, “Yes! Please, Young-il, please—”

He dropped to his knees in front of you, slouching closer, sinking right between your legs, his hands lingered around your knees, squeezing them against him with a possessive hold.

“In-ho” he corrected you, flushed against the skin of your inner thigh, pressing kisses along it, all too drunk already by your intoxicating scent, his mind going fuzzy with desire, the urge to make you his, “Call me In-ho”

You didn't even pause to doubt what he was telling you, Hell, you'd call him God if he asked you to. You were in the palm of his hand, on full display. His lips kissed your sex and you mentally thanked fate for putting you there, with him.

“Say it” he ordered, just before he plunged his tongue deep between your folds, knocking all the little breath left in your lungs. “Say my name, angel” the vibration of his voice against the most sensitive flesh of your body clenched the knot deep in the bottom of your belly.

“In-ho” you named him between shaky whimpers and little moans, like a prayer. One of your hands dropped to his head, fingers sinking into the black of his hair, tugging it and making him hiss against your cunt. “In-ho...”

In-ho, In-ho, In-ho...

“Good girl”

God.

He ate your pussy like it was his very last meal, lapping and drinking in everything you had to offer, every bit of wetness from you. The slurping noise burst through every wall of the bathrooms and suddenly, you didn't give a shit if the guard outside heard you, you didn't give a shit if all the guards heard you. 

They could be right there watching you, you couldn't care less, it wouldn't change the way you tugged at his hair, how your eyes rolled back and the way he was gazing up at you from below, kneeling perfectly between your legs as if they were the gates to heaven.

His tongue seemed familiar, his fingers squeezing your thighs, his eyes locked with yours, his lips kissing your sex with no breath, all the breath he needed was you. He didn't feel like a stranger, your body acquainted him, perhaps in another life. It all felt like deja vu, a reminiscence.

Your muscles tensed and he felt it through his tongue. You were about to cum, and your throat felt scratchy from all the moans and whimpers rasping through it.

“Gonna cum, baby?” he coaxed, pulling away from your cunt for just a couple of seconds, sneaking a hand in and pressing just barely at your entrance with a couple of fingers, kissing your clit and sucking it just right, “Yes you are,” he grumbled endearingly, his tongue tracing caresses all around your clit now, looking up at you.

“You're so tight” he marveled, watching in awe as your cunt eagerly attempted to suck in his fingertips, clenching and struggling to fit them. “Look at her, so eager... such a good girl, aren't you?” Once again he leaned into your clit, kissing, sucking and caressing it with his tongue, already too pussy drunk to stop. “Cum for me. Cum on my tongue, yeah, just like that”

“Holy shit, In-ho—” you hiccupped, feeling tears blur your vision, a wave of pleasure unleashing from deep in your belly. You moaned his name like a prayer, pressing his head closer to your cunt on an instinctive impulse, “Mmph!”

Maybe it was seeing his chin and mouth all dripping wet of you, or his dark, deep eyes marveling at how your pussy squeezed tight around his fingers, or his other hand sliding up under your shirt, finding one of your breasts and flicking your nipple. Maybe it was all of it, either way, you were cumming like you had never cum before. Your whole body was shaking and succumbing to the overstimulation. Succumbing to him.

In-ho gulped down everything you gave him like magic waters.

“You taste better than I imagined,” he confided, licking his index and middle finger as well, catching every trace there was of you that he could possibly consume as if it were honey.

Then, he kissed your pussy once more before standing up, sending shockwaves of electricity through your whole body with his touch, his hands settled on your hips, holding you so you wouldn't fall.

And he just smirked. He moved closer to you and kissed your mouth, making you savor your own taste through him, his hands appreciatively caressing your thighs, swiftly pulling up your panties back on.

“You're perfect, perfect,” he smoothed against your lips, his forehead leaning close to yours and he kissed you again, praising you, holding you tight in the afterglow of your orgasm, “My girl, my favorite girl, so good for me"

“We need to get back before someone starts to get suspicious,” he mumbled softly, helping you to your feet and pulling up your pants, always holding you with his hands and strong arms.

“B-but,” you retorted, your hands gripping his shoulders, still feeling your legs a little wobbly and unsteady, your dilated pupils and half-closed eyes following him as he arranged you, “I want to-”

He interrupted you, grinning warmly, stroking a lock of your hair away from your forehead before kissing your lips once more, as if closing a deal, a promise, “There will be time. Be patient, princess. We don't want the others to find out about my favoritism, do we?” seeing you still looking a bit confused, and still denying with your head, In-ho smiled playfully, “That would be very unprofessional of me, so this will be our secret”

This time you kissed him, sealing the secret.