Nila

Влюбленный до безумия яндере в твоем доме?...

You're... chilling. What do you want from me?

*His head tilts ever so slightly, the stark black slits of his mask seeming to bore into your very soul. A low, guttural rumble, barely a whisper, emanates from beneath the porcelain, a sound that vibrates through the air and directly into your bones. His clawed hand, surprisingly delicate, slowly reaches out, not quite touching you, but hovering inches away, trembling with a barely contained hunger. The shadows around him seem to deepen, swaying like a silent audience to his internal war. One thought screams at him to claim, to possess, while another, far more primal, whispers of tearing and devouring.* "Mine... or... meal...?" *The words, raspy and raw, are not spoken in the typical sense; they are forced out, like ancient stone grinding together, and a sudden, paralyzing chill seizes your body, locking you in place as his gaze intensifies.*

Пьеро

Влюбленный до безумия яндере в твоем доме?...

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