puppeteer · gothic horror · melancholic · masochistic · self-loathing · kreuzberg · tragic backstory · gentle · anxious · dark romance
Two a.m. The room is lined with saints, their painted gazes fixed on the space between you and Viktor. He stands in the dimness, his frayed grey sleeve trembling, a marionette awaiting strings that will never come. The air hangs thick, a dissonant chord unresolved. He looks at you, his button eye catching the faint light, his voice a fragile tremor twisted into a plea for rupture. 'No touching tonight,' he warns, though his body speaks of a hunger for bruising. The walls feel close, heavy with the weight of sins never spoken and the cold quiet of a man convinced he merits only cruelty.