#yandere!FE

[obsessionavecdescouteaux]

Something about slicing your throat open over the churches alter has a certain romanticized allure to it.

[arcticvelvet]

good morning daddy please sacrifice my body on an altar to yourself, my almighty god in human disguise, for I am not worthy to exist under your gaze, oh please.

[frickingnerd]

yandere corrin

pairing: gn!corrin x gn!reader

tags: unspecified route/setting, spoiled!corrin, obsessive!corrin

corrin has been sheltered all their life. living in nohr, only being around their siblings and a few selected maids and such, corrin grew lonely

so it shouldn't come as a huge surprise that the first person that corrin meets outside of that group immediately becomes special to corrin

not just that, but corrin is quick to start obsessing over that person!

you become the embodiment of freedom to corrin! you've lived a life surrounded by so many people and have had such a vastly different experience than corrin

corrin envies you, but also admires you! corrin wants to learn everything they can from you about the world outside

corrin is relatively harmless as a yandere, at least in the early stages of your relationship. but depending on how things go, corrin does have a more dangerous side that could come out

after all, corrin has been spoiled and is used to getting what they want. whether it's from their siblings or maids!

and if corrin wants something from you, that you aren't willing to give, then corrin doesn't mind letting others do their dirty work and simply force you to give corrin what they want!

[saccharinosis]

IN OUR AMBER HOUSE (M!Yandere OC x GN!reader) - 1.9k words

(Warnings: manipulation?? General yandere things yeah under cut)

WHERE WAS HE? Anxious eyes peeked through the veil of blinders, panning across sun-soaked suburbia. Previously grey skies diffused with splashes of tangerine and rosy inks glowed above asphalt roads, hugged by pavement and dirty gold lawns which preceded duplicate houses—houses that harboured spouses who just arrived home to their loved ones. Yours was not one of them.

You glanced back at the clock; ‘5:32pm’, it read. It only takes him twenty minutes to get home—what's taking him so long? He was always the punctual type.

Anxiety twisted your thoughts into a web of indecipherable ramblings: what if he got into an accident at work? Or a car crash coming home? What if he decided to abandon you just like everyone else? What were you to do then? You couldn’t survive on your own. The train ticket hidden beneath the laundry machine weighed heavy on your conscience. Guilt seeped into the open wound of worries, for ever thinking anything sinful of his character. He was your lifeline.

Or maybe…

Maybe you should step outside—

Tires crackled. False storm clouds climbed out an exhaust pipe’s silver chimney, revving thunder. Your wide eyes glued themselves to the window. The aegean blue vintage Camaro rolled into view. He’s home.

You sprinted from the window to the entrance. Through the door you could hear the thumping of his powderhorn boots, soon coming to a halt. The jingling of metal alerted you to back away from the entrance. When the door creaked open, you jumped, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in the faux fur of his hood. A deep inhale; the faint scent of ashwood, pumpkin spice and vanilla was familiar to you. You felt the vibrations of chuckles from within his chest, arms slithering around your waist.

“Sorry I’m late, honey. I forgot something at work,” he said softly.

His words carried a certain lilt, weightless and airy, leaving you full of sweet nothings and starved of candour. Did he really? You decided not to reply, tightening your grip as if he’d vanish into thin air.

“Aw,” he removed one of his arms, tilting your chin up with a finger, “were you worried about me?” Gold were his eyes, flecked with scarlet. Amber.

“... yeah,”

He brushed aside your hair, planting a kiss on your forehead. He moved to your cheek, the bridge of your nose, the side of your jaw—you attempted to pull away from the onslaught of kisses, but his grip tightened, keeping you in place.

“Lovel—”

Your protests were subdued when his lip met yours. The hand on your waist pulled your bodies flush against each other, while the other cradled the back of your head, fingers entangled in locks of hair. A tantalising heat roiled in your chest as you reciprocated with overwhelming fervour. When you were just about running out of air, he let you pull back, winded.

“You were saying earlier?” Lovel asked, his own breathing slightly heavier.

“Uh—I should go finish cooking,” you pressed your hands against his chest.

“Let me help you then.”

As you looked into his eyes, you couldn’t find the words to refuse. Your hands ghosted over the base of his neck, feeling sheepish as he stared, before helping him unzip his olive green coat. It slid off with the ease of a snake shedding its skin, and you hung it upon the coat rack while he kicked off his boots. In just a moment his hand intertwined in yours, leading you to the kitchen which held your work-in-progress.

Muted sunlight drifted through the windows, leaving the corners and crevices of the room vignetted. Upon the porcelain enamel countertops rested a cutting board alongside a myriad of vegetables. Nearby, a stream of steam billowed from the vents of the rice cooker whose red light flickered, already prepared. Thawed meat sat in a large pan on the burner.

“I’ll handle the meat. Would you cut the rest of the vegetables for me?”

You nodded. He patted your head, moving to the stove. As you returned to work, you couldn’t help but take glances at your fiance from the corner of your eye. He looked to be in his element, the sleeves of his black turtleneck pulled to his elbows as he shifted the pan around. A mellow tune, so relaxed yet precise, rose and fell from his throat like a threaded needle weaving through silk. You turned back to the cutting board, knife hovering above a stalk of scallions.

You were grateful, truly grateful, that in spite of all your other friends, he was the only one who stayed by your side. That when university and life’s unfortunate happenings reared their ugly heads, he was always there to listen and lend you a shoulder. He was the only one who cared about you. He was the only one who loved you.

And it was suffocating.

The same day reiterated itself. You wake up. You get dressed. You wish Lovel a good day at work. You do insignificant tasks. You wait for him. You greet him when he gets home—actually, that’s the only time when you felt like life had any meaning. Although there’s twenty-four hours in a day, your life was sequestered to the golden hour when he was home, when the etiolated sun rolled gold fog over the neighbourhood (and sometimes, what felt like in your head). You loved him. Yet something about the way he loved you left you feeling hazy; the perpetual golden hour, the stagnant sunlight like a flickering bulb in a dusty attic, it was all-consuming.

“What’re you thinking about?” he whispered, his breath fanning your ear.

A chill rushed through you. His hands rested on the counter on either side of you, your back pressed against his chest.

“It’s nothing.”

You felt the weight of his gaze sear into your skin. Your eyes fixated on the cutting board in front of you; the knife slipping from your trembling grasp. Huh. You didn't realise you were shaking. He hummed, fingers thrumming over the countertop.

“You wouldn’t hide anything from me, right?”

You shook your head.

“Use your words.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“Good.”

He pressed his lips against your temple. Yet the air remained thick with tension, cloying your visage.

“I’m feeling a bit nauseous actually,” you said, removing one of his arms around you. “I’m going to the washroom.”

You left without another word, his stare glued to your back until the hallway turned around the corner. Almost instantly, the heavy atmosphere receded. You shook off the rest of the nerves as you walked. The hall itself stretched on, lined doorway after doorway which glowed dimly under marigold lights. One of such arcs emitted a light brighter than the rest.

You paused. To the right, the sun chiselled a passage between flowing curtains, its lustrous path resting at your feet. Its glimmer enveloped you in a trance, and thus you followed it: a moth to a flame, step by step. With a slight tug at the fabric, you unveiled a sky rippling of tuscan and silver, goldleaf clouds dappled across its expanse—your backyard, still like a painting. The only thing that stood between you and the outside was a glass door. You twisted your head back to the hallway. No one was there. It’ll be okay, you thought. You’ll just take a quick look.

Your hands gripped the edge of the panel, pulling it open merely a smidge. Crisp autumn wind caressed your face, and compared to the stale air inside, you’ve begun to realise liberty’s absence. You dragged the door the rest of the way, invigorated with newfound confidence. Tucked by the entrance was a pair of grey slippers a few sizes bigger than yours, beckoning you to wear them. Your heart pounded. It took but a second to slip them on. It took a few more for you to leap over the border and meet dirt. The grass reached its bowed arms over the exposed skin of your feet, swaying alongside your movements. You couldn't hold back the laugh bubbling up your throat as you hopped further down the yard.

Something twinkled in the sandy sky. You looked up. The sky’s gift landed atop your nose—a snowflake. For a moment you could examine its byzantine structure: geometric symmetry, hexagonal lattices forming crystalline branches. Mother nature’s perfect selenite flora, and just as fragile. Opaque white thawed into a glassy dome, almost like a snowglobe.

“What are you doing out there?”

Lovel’s voice piqued your ears. You tensed. Twisting around, his golden gaze flared in the sunset. He was omnipresent.

He murmured softly, similar to coaxing a hare, “Come back in, you’ll get cold.”

You hesitated.

“(Y/N). Come back.” Now.

That tender smile returned to his face as you ambled up the porch. An arm reached around your shoulder, as if he thought you might get lost. Together, you walked back inside. Back home. Another iteration.

When you turned, attempting to get one last glance at the backyard, he had already pulled the curtains close. Gold. Yet sunrays seeped through the sheer polyester, giving it a luminous, almost gelatinous quality. Like resin beginning to set. He turned to face you.

“If you wanted to go outside, you could’ve asked me.”

‘What does it matter if the answer is no?’ you thought, the sour words held back by the cage of your lips, but not through your eyes. He read your expression.

“Winter’s soon. We both know you’re more susceptible to cold. Do you remember last year?”

“... Yeah.”

“And what kind of future husband would I be to let my love get sick like that again?”

Whatever irritation you harboured melted off from the heat creeping up your face; you looked away. It seemed he always knew what to say.

“We can continue this later. I finished dinner.”

The guilt-ridden wound throbbed dully. You really couldn’t do anything without him. From frustration, to endearment, to shame he orchestrated your emotions in a contorted cacophony until you couldn't tell where one ended and the other started. The world around you blurred as your mind focused on the saline aftertaste of discomfort on your tongue. It is in your best interest to stay. Even so, you think that maybe there’s a world waiting for you outside this house. You want to bask in the extraordinary life of an average person: getting a job, buying a car, being independent.

Your eyes drift down to your feet. Gold wraps around the edge of your toes, ever so languidly creeping up the rest of your figure. Maybe it's too late. Maybe the amber had already crystallised, encasing your body to the confines of your own home.

But when you thought back to that snowflake, so bright and delicate, you couldn’t help but hope. That with the winter and the death of all things so would this old life find its conclusion; and in the dawn of liquescence you’d break through the icy surface, riding the springtide.

“.../N)?”

Twin suns melted the mirage of your mind. Lovel smiled at his seizure of your attention. He threaded his fingers through the contours of your hands, the sensation of skin-against-skin leaving fervid solar flares in its trail. Every inch of you drowned and burned in sunlight.

Yes, you thought. You couldn’t wait for an eclipse.

[throwaway-yandere]

Saudade (Yandere!Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Reader)

A/n: it has been 500 years since I turned off my brain and wrote something out of pure passion lmao dimitri my beloved <333

Unreliable Synopsis: Circumstances won't allow you to be around the crown prince of Faerghus' side, and it wasn't as if you want to be near him either after allying with House Gloucester. Besides, if there was one person you want from your past back, who else would it be other than your old womanizer best friend? (Cw: yandere themes, violence, war)

commissioned by: @poptartsthings (holy sht thank you for making my first commission to be dimitri fic aaAAHHHHH--)

“You should just send them your letter– say that you’re sorry.”

"Uhuh, but what if he doesn't remember me anymore, Raph?"

"Well," Raphael placed both his hands behind his head, lolling back as he reeled a fish in. "There’s just no way. Based on your stories, I think he’s in love with you, (Y/n). You can't just ignore him forever, ya know?"

You raised an eyebrow, "yes, I can. It's not like there are tons of situations where I need to interact with the crown prince."

"Okay, true... But maaaaaybe you can try eating lunch with him!" Raphael brushed against your shoulder "There's nothing that can get people to open up like a good meal together. Maybe you can steal a seat– oh, and sneak in his favorites on his plate too."

You chuckled softly, "I think that method only works on you, Raph."

"Nonsense!" He said, shaking his head earnestly. "It also works on my baby sister!"

You snorted.

Your housemates are endearing. Truthfully, you never would have expected that it's comfortable in the Golden Deer. Your heart desired to become a Blue Lions graduate like your parents, but familial circumstances or lack-there-of forbade any opportunity. Had life been easier on you, your dorm wall would've sported your family’s blue flag.

And not Gloucester’s.

Since your parents perished in what is now known as the “Tragedy of Duscur”, Count Gloucester assumed responsibility of being your legal guardian. Your parents had always thought of Lorenz’s father as a close ally. Plus, this arrangement was better than living up the frigid north with estranged minor noble relatives who gave you an even more colder shoulder.

However, thread any less carefully around the Alliance, and you might find yourself under his conservatorship forever. You just have to thank the Blue Sea Star that you didn’t bore a crest lest you’d be engaged to Lorenz. Uncle Erwin is a wonderful father to him and he doesn’t treat you with malice either— but of course, he keeps an eye open to morally gray opportunities to exploit your title.

And that includes listing your name amongst the Golden Deers.

At first, you were hesitant in showing that you're an “outlier” in class, but it seems you fit the mold quite easily. Too easily. Not because you had been accustomed to their social norms, it is more like the fawns are oddballs themselves. The youngest was an enchantment waiting to explode, your largest was a total muscle-head, the house leader has a screw loose when it comes to strategic retreat and poisoning, and the rest are just as eccentric.

No one cares if you told them you have an affinity for theater here, and spoilers: they really did not give a damn. Except for maybe when Ignatz genuinely went "oh, that sounds wonderful, (Y/n)!" before the conversation digressed about Leonie's mismatched socks she bought on the market.

Oh, but Raphael and Claude did care when they found out that you might've had a long but faded friendship with at least four of the Blue Lions. Compared to Claude, you trust that Raphael comes from a good place whenever he brings them up. Since he and Ignatz were childhood friends who slowly grew apart, he has your best intentions whenever he suggests something that could reignite your relationship with either Sylvain, Felix, Ingrid, or Prince Dimitri.

Claude, on the other hand…

The house leader first emerged as a shadow, then he sat down and squeezed between you and Raphael, with his arm encircled around your waist. Claude's apparent lack of etiquette went unmentioned by either of you (you suspect Claude is part-Almyran), but you do intend to ignore him later like your "foster brother" does.

"Trading secrets about Prince Dimitri, are we? Won't ya invite poor me along in your little secret meeting?”

You sighed tiredly, "Claude–"

"I was just kidding. No need to give me that face," Claude raised his arms defensively. “My lips are sealed— I never heard a single word between you two, promise.”

The deers were a little leery of your prior association with the crown prince of Faerghus. Claude, who frequently pries into everyone's private affairs, persistently diverted your focus to the Lions. In fact, he once burned your favorite book to forcibly draw your attention to the library so that you'll share the same room with Dimitri. Talk about extremes, really.

But you did notice that there's something off about Claude this time.

“So what brings you here? There’s no way you’ve come here to fish.”

“Yeah, no…” He cringed. “I’d rather do the eating part.”

“Haha, you get it, Claude!” Raphael said before the two men shared a crisp high-five.

Ah, these fawns…

You sighed, “can we skip to the part where you explain why you’re sitting beside me right now?”

“Sure. Leonie wanted me to tell you that Lysithea told her that Lorenz was told by Prof—”

“Do you not know the meaning of “skip”, Riegan?”

“Nah, course I do,” Claude smirked. “It’s just fun to tease people who live in House Gloucester.”

“Sothis, have mercy.”

“As I was saying, Lorenz was told by Professor Byleth to tell you that Sylvain is now part of the Golden Deer.”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“… What?”

There was no dramatic gasp. Nothing sensational or derogatory comment was elicited from impetuous lips. You simply blinked and said the words "what? as if it were a simple joke. Claude needn’t explain that those were facts. Based on how he approached with worry written on his face that he failed to hide from you, he wasn't jesting.

You're reluctant to speak with Sylvain. You last spoke to him in earnest four years ago. Don't get it twisted, you do want to get back in touch with that philanderer's good graces, but where would you even start?

Dear Sylvain, I’m sorry for ignoring your letters? Dear Sylvain, I’ll reimburse you for all the theater tickets you gifted before without my consent? Dear Sylvain, I’m a garbage best friend?

… Knowing him, he’d likely frame that letter with careful preservation while the ink from his heaps of love letters faded inside his shelf collection. If you were to send similar letters to the other two, Felix would train to become a mortal savant and burn the letter out of spite, and Ingrid would have simply torn them up.

“WOAH!!!”

Raphael's chest caught your attention for a brief moment, and you quickly avoided him, concerned that those wooden buttons will suddenly protrude into your eyes. Your housemate captured the fish without even feeling his buttons tear apart from his outfit.

Goddess Messenger.

That’s quite an expensive catch right there.

But it felt like an omen for something.

“… I’m heading back to my dorm room.”

“Want us to go with you?” Raphael offered, but he reeked of fish.

“No, I’ll head there alone.”

Claude tilted his head, “Sylvain is probably there, you know.”

“I know,” you nodded. “But I’m tired.”

“I just can’t run away from the lions anymore.”

You should’ve taken your words literally.

Instead, the phrase "I need to get over this, fast" resonated in your thoughts, and you bolted as soon as the impulse to settle everything fueled your anxiety. You should have cared if someone got in your way, but you didn't.

“Ngh—” you flinched, bumping into someone’s back. “Whoops— sorry about that—”

You froze as you looked up.

Great. Just your luck.

“… What is there to be forgiven, (Y/n)?”

And of course, he called you by your first name. Your arguments against Raphael were demonstrably false. A futile hoax. Why even try to imagine that he might have forgotten about you?

Dimitri smiled softly, his eyes crinkling in delight. You gulped shakily.

After all, how can the crown prince ever forget his first love?

Now that you took a good look, his hair was much shorter than how it used to be and he grew positively taller. It’s a haircut you took a while to get used to, especially since you recalled how his hair used to hover near his shoulder. Not that you didn’t know about any of this information already. It’s just that you had to reassess those facts after seeing him up close. Perhaps a bit too close for comfort.

If only your last memories with him were as pleasant as his face.

He wanted you as his consort, but you had nothing to offer him. No land, no worthy title befitting for a king’s spouse, and no true inheritance in your arsenal at age 15. But when one has less to lose, they become more introspective. While clinging to Sothis' statue and pleading for life, they gain wisdom. Unlike the prince, you were not naive to what could befall the kingdom if you were to marry him. Instead, you sought asylum by knocking on Uncle Erwin’s door with the few loyal servants to House (L/n) left, and he accepted your offer after days of consideration.

His name will be tarnished as a young traumatized prince who copes by spoiling a love unrequited. But most of all? The loss of his friends and family would’ve developed his separation anxiety towards you more if you stayed.

The prince was something of a doormat teenager. He begged and nearly cried when you had accidentally slipped out that you’ll be allying with House Gloucester– but stopped his outburst the moment you chewed him out with hurtful phrases. Dimitri clung onto you like an affectionate pup and if his childhood self could latch on for the rest of his life, he would in a heartbeat. Perhaps it was the side-effect of being his first friend. He had always been a genuinely kind person, but he was always so caught up in whatever happened in the past.

Was it rational or heartless to leave him and the rest of your companions behind? Likely both, if you were to ask El.

That doesn't mean you don't occasionally catch a glimpse of him at the officer's academy. It's hilarious how, after Dedue performed his duties as a vassal, Dimitri now had to cope with a situation that was identical to yours. A "protector" so dependent… it was as though you were watching the prince try on your shoes. Your “you don’t have to shield me every time we go to the training grounds” line became His Highness’ catchphrase towards his retainer. And you’re not sure what to feel about that.

Was it comedy or plain karma? Likely both, if you were to ask Claude.

“Good evening, Your Highness,” you bowed. There would’ve been more eyes on you inside the cafeteria if you hadn’t. Gossips of lese-majeste would’ve stirred even Lindhart awake. “Do you require something from me?”

Formal.

Too formal for him, but not formal enough for you.

Dimitri's brows wrinkled, and you briefly saw his lip tremble. His hands were behind his back, and one of them was discreetly and firmly gripping his wrist. That man had a pained, speechless expression on his face, and you don't hold him responsible when words fall short.

But when words do fail, you wished he could just stop talking whenever he feels overwhelmed.

“I…”

I miss you. So much.

You didn’t need to hear it to know what he wanted to say.

Princess Edelgard was right, Dimitri is wholly predictable.

He cleared his throat, ears turning red.

“It had been so long since we had last spoken, has it not?”

“It has.”

“Around 4 years, so I'd say.”

“Hmm. So it has,” you doubt he noticed how your words were curt and redundant, since he's too busy trying not to melt. “So it has.”

“Are you enjoying the Golden Deer house, s-so far?” Dimitri manufactured a smile. “I’ve heard you and Lorenz made for a wonderful tag team at the last House Tournament.”

Bullshit.

He didn’t just “hear” about it.

You saw him cheer for you giddily in that tournament.

There is nothing he can conceal from you. If he were as cunning as Claude, it might take you some time to discover who was responsible for leaving sloppy, "anonymous" love letters inside your dorm. There were also petals tucked inside. Pink camellias, a sign of longing.

“It’s a feat not worthy of your praise, your Highness.”

Seriously, you don’t want to hear him flatter you anymore.

“Simply untrue,” he shook his head earnestly. “I’ve also heard that—… Y… You are fond of Raphael. As a friend— of course. It’s relieving to know that you have many companions from different walks of life— which is to say, I approve of whoever you talk to, but—”

You’re not deaf. You noticed how much his words were about your relations with others. There’s no other interpretation to this other than jealousy.

Still, his face was red. He must be too caught up in the joy of talking to you that he didn’t care for how envious his words sounded. You laughed curtly. You want to remind him the reason why you left, but you can’t explain a thing despite desperately wanting to, just like him.  

Dimitri wants you back, so much so that he's stuttering in every sentence.

But you didn’t reply to his ramblings. Save for the cafeteria hall’s chatter, it was silent. You’ve long accepted in your heart that your family is dead and you ought to coast forward. 

And there’s no future where you will cut through a path beside Dimitri. 

Besides, House (L/n) had histories of trading tactics with Leicester, and you cannot discount how people refer to your blood as sheeple with its loyalty. It’s a double-edged sword, one you’d utilize well if you close your eyes right now and ignored the heartbreak and yearning in his eyes.

And so, you closed your eyes.

“My apologies, I’m in a hurry so I’m afraid I have to get going. Farewell, Your Highness.”

Dimitri's eyes widened, trying to reach for your arm.

“(Y/n), please wait–”

But you were already gone.

“Hey there, (N/n)!”

It was only when you heard a familiar voice did you open your eyes again.

An attractive and familiar young man lazily leaned on one hand on your door, completely blocking your dorm room. “Are you gonna talk to me now, or are you just going to ignore me for the rest of the school year?”

He’s here.

You steeled yourself.

“Gautier…” You exhaled.

“Oof, “Gautier”, they said,” he frowned. “Not a single “I miss you, Sylvain”? No “gosh, sorry I didn’t talk to you for so long, I was just too shy to admit that I was wrong!”?”

You chuckled nervously.

“Perceptive as ever, I see.” But you weren’t wrong. Becoming a Golden Deer was the right path for you.

“Not perceptive, but hopeful really,” Sylvain shrugged. “Based on that reply, I’m glad my wishful thinking was spot on. You do miss me.”

“I do, but I now just realized I’m not prepared for this conversation,” you said, surprised by your upfront and composed anxiety. That talk with Dimitri seriously drained all the energy you garnered earlier. “Can we do this later?”

“No can do. I shall allow you passage if thee speaks from the heart,” he teased with his signature ladykiller grin. “Go on, say it~”

You sighed, burlesquely exasperated.

The two of you adore theater, so talks like these were commonplace. He’d mask his flaws when confessing sins in this manner, but you prefer to hear his real justifications. In any case, this is just another conquest for him to gad off and hunt some girls in another house— and your new professor is undoubtedly a sight to behold.

“Oh, Sylvain, mine dear friend, thou art missed for nearly half a decade, but mine fear did not condone myself to reach out.”

Like two birds of a feather, you also similarly mask your sentimentality.

Funny how you can easily say you miss Sylvain, but not Dimitri.

Sylvain smiled. Genuinely, this time.

“Good.”

The resolution was surprisingly fast. You were willing to bet you both anticipated a serious confrontation– a meeting that feels like a long-awaited class reunion after a war or so. But no.

The two of you are still flawed yet perceptive idiots after 4 years of not talking.

You both laughed in unison.

What were you worrying about anyway? You knew that at this point if Sylvain was angry at you for leaving, he should have grown tired of that emotion.

His primary grudge had always been the crest system, not you.

You should've had this talk earlier, he's the only one in the Blue Lions you were sure won't blame a crestless noble like you for those circumstances.

“Now move, Gautier.”

He stepped aside smugly.

…

You opened your mouth in surprised indignation.

“Why does my room look clean?”

“I had Mercedes help me clean it up the moment I took a look inside. Seriously, I can’t believe you managed to live in a complete pigsty—”

“It’s like you want to sour our reestablished friendship in under 5 minutes, Sylvie.”

“...”

“What? Too old to be called Sylvie nowadays?”

“No, keep calling me that,”

Sylvain never stopped smiling.

“Oh, and by the way? I miss you too, (N/n).”

“… There you are.”

As soon as Sylvain left the hall to your dorm, he was greeted by the sight of the crown prince lingering in front of the stairways. Unlike Sylvain, he was not leaning on anything while waiting. The prince stood straight, dignified.

Then again, Sylvain knew his royal motivations lie in jealousy— and that’s far from “dignified.”

Sylvain can tell from his stiff stance that Claude was particularly touchy-feely earlier, which was exactly why he requested Lorenz to relay the message instead rather than the house leader. His Highness must’ve seen how close you sat beside Raphael and then Claude. The Golden Deer's leader knew Dimitri was obsessed with you— he probably intended to provoke him for the upcoming Battle of Eagle and Lion. It didn't help that Dimitri had his eyes on you, always. If not him, then Dedue.

Not that Claude's scheme will work. Dimitri was satisfied just to see you smile, even when it pains him to acknowledge that it wasn’t for him or because of him.

Sylvain is an exception to that rule.

Dimitri had a cold glint in his azure eyes, but his gaze all but glared at Sylvain. He had a smidgen of control, for now. But it’s not long until what Sylvain had prophesied about the crown prince quipping a remark or two about staying away from you will occur.

“Waiting for me to explain my random decision, I’m guessing?”

“Oh, I simply liked standing here but sure, Sylvain! I’d dearly love to know the rational thought behind switching houses out of the blue. It is not as if Felix and Ingrid were worried about you,” Dimitri generously gave his princely smile.

Sometimes, Sylvain forgets it was physically possible for someone so austere with himself like Dimitri to say something laced with malicious sarcasm. But Sylvain knew Dimitri stood there because he was still worried about his friend, even when he pretends to be unbothered.

Like bread and butter, Dimitri and forced positivism complement each other disastrously well. The Blue Lions often caught him murmuring things like "I'm delighted (Y/n) is making new friends" or "I hope Claude continues to treat them well" despite having a glum expression on his face, obviously bottling up his envy. Felix finds it as easy as breathing to call him out on this behavior: "Why bother stalking them when you can't handle the envy you feel when they hugged Lorenz or held hands with Marianne? ”

His Highness never answered that question. He thinks had kept his feral thoughts at bay most of the time and will continue to do so.

Still… Raphael, Claude, and then Sylvain… Dimitri can’t catch a break.

Why do all these men keep approaching you?

Will you never recognize the perpetual anguish that befall him the moment you didn't reach for his hand and took Count Gloucester's that day? Have you no sympathy for the man that promised your protection— for the boy you trained and sneaked out when you thought the king wasn't looking? Whenever he wakes up the following morning without you, do you not experience the same emptiness and loneliness that he does?

Was it because he is a "troubled prince" nowadays?

Was it because he couldn't taste anything anymore?

Why did you eat saghert and cream with Ignatz instead of him at the cafeteria?

Why did these men have to ruin the one taste he can recall?

He lies awake every night to the sound of phantom screams from fallen soldiers, friends, and family against his hand-covered ears.

But you were his solace. His “God/dess”.

And just like with the Goddess Sothis, he lacked the means to grasp your hand...

If only his cold hands could wring those men's necks as well...

“... Do you really want to know, Your Highness?”

It took Dimitri a while before he snapped out of his trance. His voice dipped low, his breathing uneasy, and his eyes lacked focus.

Sylvain looked at him with pity Dimitri wished you spared him instead.

“Yes,” he exhaled. “It shall help our friends put their minds at ease.”

“Well, well, you're sure it's not because you'll miss me?”

“Sylvain.”

“Okay, fine, I’ll tell you,” Sylvain dreamily gazed up at the sky and boldly proclaimed:

“The new professor was hot.”

“Sylvain!—”

“Calm down, Your Highness! That was just a joke.”

Unlikely.

“I joined because (Y/n) is there.”

Dimitri froze.

The meaning behind those words could either be tolerable or impermissible enough to make the prince push Sylvain to the training grounds without remorse.

Sylvain’s not going to try and suddenly woo you now, will he?

You did grow more gorgeous after four years after all…

But Sylvain can't have you— Dimitri might just lose it. Out of everyone on campus, he refuses to let an adamant skirt-chaser take you.

“… Elaborate.”

“Elaborate? What’s there to elaborate?” Sylvain crossed his arms behind his back, now back to his laissez-faire attitude in life. He cackled to himself, absolutely unrepentant. “Is it bad that I want to reunite with an old friend? You know, before they were your friend, they were mine. Don’t forget that we’re both older than you, Dimitri.”

Multiple considerations led to why Sylvain chose to frolic with the deers rather than squander the school year at the lion’s den. One of these includes avoiding Ingrid’s nagging— he can’t be bothered having a pegasus pecking around while he galavants with (unfortunate) women.

But most of it boiled down to reunite with the one platonic relationship he missed.

Sylvain became Dimitri’s ally through you. Had you not approached Sylvain and Dimitri during one of King Lambert’s birthday celebrations, they wouldn’t have initiated a friendship through a children’s version of a bergamot tea party away from drunken nobility. More opportunities to befriend the prince would’ve likely presented themselves through Ingrid and Felix, but that memory of tiny cups and tea-stained shoes was special because it had you.

Because you were smart and kind enough to drag Sylvain out of his older brother’s schemes of public humiliation under the guise of being “invited” to an audience with royalty.

You were more of a sibling than Miklan ever was.

“By two years,” Dimitri stressed. “You’re only older than me by two years.”

“Your point? Doesn’t change the fact that compared to most students this year, we’re one of the older ones.”

He bit his bottom lip.

Age was one of Dimitri’s insecurities. It cannot be helped— if he were only older, people would’ve listened to his testimony for the people of Duscur more seriously— if he were only older, he would’ve had control over his uncle—

Dimitri’s knuckles grew white underneath his gloves.

If he were only older, then maybe you would’ve stayed by his side.

“What a lark. Are you attempting to compete on who had a better relationship with (Y/n)?”

“No, Your Highness, YOU are.”

Dimitri’s eyes widened. He hadn’t realized that those pointed words he spoke aimed towards himself like a misthrown javelin.

"Let’s be honest, Your Highness. I’m saying this as a friend, but you could be a bit tone-deaf and insufferable around them,” Sylvain deadpanned. “You had some serious attachment issues and you never listen when they tell you to stop with all those creepy comments about protecting them forever.”

“Is… Is that so?”

Dimitri muttered to himself while looking at his shoes, sounding almost broken. He had doubts, but Sylvain’s words practically cemented that you’d be unwilling to spend time with him again.

“Besides, if this were a competition, you lost the moment I waited at their dorm.”

The prince’s head snapped back up like a confused puppy.

“Why is that?”

What a horrible thing to ask.

“Because (Y/n) just told me that they missed me,” Sylvain smirked.

“And if you were there, you could’ve heard them call me Sylvie too, just like the good old days.”

Since that talk with Sylvain, Dimitri wanted to make you as lonely as him.

Oh, how he badly wanted to whisk you away from that house– oh just how much he wished he could force you to wear his cape– to wear the color of the lions.

But none of that matters now.

You look prettier when doused in splattered red.

The soil sipped the blood that drained from Ignatz's head. It reminded you of the time you asked the painter if he could use blood as a dye. If he were to watch this scene, he would've waxed poetic about how he will be simply returning his life to the earth, but the beauty of death is lost on you. The gravity of war weighed far more than the theatrics of what-he-would've-spoken.

It’s been five years since the war started.

You had lost your voice two years ago the moment Dimitri kidnapped you on your expedition to Garreg Mach— you’ve mistaken him for a bandit and in a blind rage, he dealt a massive blow to your neck. Dimitri didn’t mind that you had lost your ability to speak he seemed to relish that you’re similarly deformed. He romanticized both your disabilities often. A “God/dess” who couldn’t speak and a “boar” who couldn’t quite see. What a royal pair indeed…

You can’t say your prayers now, but you hoped thinking about praying for Ignatz was enough…

Ignatz should've turned 22 this year. Based on the way he last behaved, he didn't seem prepared for this war and had been misplaced by Professor Byleth.

You’ll never be able to eat saghert and cream with him again.

You can't remember what tactic you used in this battle. Was it Felix who was assigned to stick ten feet away from you who had slain Ignatz? Or was it Ingrid who rode her pegasus to stab the sniper in a suicidal fashion?

This entire battle is a blur. You can no longer stand straight and aim your sword reluctantly toward anyone.

Why can't everything go back to how it was before? Why can't you just fish at the Great Bridge of Myrddin with Uncle Erwin again?

You wobbled down the grass as a wyvern obstructed your view with its proud albino scales cruising the sky. Claude sits atop, his face stony through a nearly unrecognizable expression of placid anger. His emerald eyes inevitably met yours.

You didn't stand with your sword supporting you, and he didn't draw his bow either. Instead, before leaving to find the bright red target everyone called an "Emperor", Claude mouthed words that only you two could understand. You uttered nothing in response. Even if Claude were to succeed, his scheme would be futile.

Sylvain can’t save you from Dimitri.

Like a fairytale, it begins and ends with the crown prince. It always had.

But if Dimitri was the protagonist of this story, then pray tell, what does that make you?

A damsel in distress?

The king's court jester?

All you ever wanted was for House (L/n) to survive, to preserve your family name and dwindling territory against House Charon. You desired the opportunity to emulate your father. A fearless front-liner and a skilled tactician.

However, you have not taken any real action to end this war. You moved like a weak infantry, unable to maintain balance on one leg or call out for upcoming danger.

You just can’t run away from the lions anymore.

"Get up."

You couldn't move, mortified.

His Highness is back.

"I said GET UP!!!"

His iron-like hands yanked your hair up, and you felt some of it weeded out by his sheer brute force. You wept immediately but held back tears. Despite your commitment to keeping your composure, he had torn away what little hold you had left on what you call "stability." Your knees shook as his tall figure began to drag you away. Each step felt more jagged than the last. Your heart beat erratically as you worried about toppling down– and when you inevitably did, he was there to pick you up.

For Dimitri, this situation was advantageous. Most Golden Deers are here, which meant he had opportunities to route them all. He had already stabbed Ignatz, incessantly. Each draw of his lance— each crack of the artist’s glasses and bones— rejuvenated whatever youth war had stolen from him. The future king of lions couldn’t stop grinning maniacally as his eyes lay upon a deer’s corpse. It was as if his sense of taste was coming back. All of his soldiers and classmates were too terrified to stop his senseless slaughter. If Gustave did not scold him about the oncoming army, he would’ve continued damaging the corpse senselessly.

But it’s only a matter of time until he shoots for the leader of the herd as well.

He still hasn’t forgiven him for using his beloved against him back at the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. This was the perfect opportunity for revenge. Once they’re out of the picture, then it’s only Edelgard left who he had to worry about— but until then, he’ll have to take the deers’ lives for stealing his beloved away.

Shame that Lorenz had yet to be found.

"Tch. Fool."

He cradled you like a bride but gripped your jaw like a hostage. Dimitri's current appearance is much too different from what he used to be. Sweat and blood had greased up his unruly hair, and the blue cloak that was slung over his shoulders was much dirtier.

"I command you to eat."

It was almost sweet. Almost kind when his voice softened for just a millisecond. Almost touching how his one eye gazed upon your sunken features with disdain.

But your appreciation for it all vanished the moment he robbed something from Ignatz's corpse.

"Eat."

He shoved onto you Ignatz's last bloody loaf of bread. It was hard, yet soaked.

Your throat couldn't express how terrified you were upon holding it.

"Gone deaf as well, have we?"

He pushed the bread closer to your chest, effectively crushing it against you. Dimitri breathed against your ear.

"I SAID: EAT.”

Your tears and Ignatz's blood salted your food.

The bread tasted just like the ones Raphael's family had in their inn.

Ignatz… He probably got this from Raphael… Which means he's in Gronder as well…

You sobbed as you took a feeble bite.

Please… Please be safe, Raphael.

Dimitri saw your struggle. He saw your continued concern for those who were after his life and yours. Why do you spare sympathy for the bodies that got in the way between you and him? They did not warrant those tears. The weak must fall— even he too will join them someday.

And so, Dimitri closed his eye.

You’ve gone fragile in his arms, and that was not spoken in a romantic sense. He had fractured your right leg enough to make you use your sword as a cane, yet he insists on dragging you in combat. Time and time again, he forces you to witness what he is capable of and more till you’re unable to write complaints.

Dimitri wanted to reassure you that you’re on the right side of history.

That you can cut a path beside him— you just weren’t trying hard enough before.

And it was a challenge the prince can’t easily scale. You never showed your appreciation for longer than a minute. When he learned how to dance begrudgingly with El after she had poisoned him with thoughts that he could use her teachings someday to dance with you— you dared to ask Sylvain out during the White Heron Cup. When he tried to give you a more fancy dagger as well during El’s parting, you admired Sylvain’s coincidental parcel of theater tickets and tea leaves instead.

Sylvain, Sylvain, Sylvain—

It was always Sylvain.

His entire body shook from laughter. You shriveled in fear as his voice echoed throughout the battlefield.

The beast put you down underneath a tree's shade that he deemed as safe.

… and kissed your forehead.

“I can see him approaching us.”

Dimitri cooed mockingly.

“Shall I decapitate and mount that filthy rat's head on a silver plate?”

You didn’t need to hear him utter his name to know he was referring to Sylvain. It was tempting to challenge him on how he could say such a thing about someone who had once been a friend, but that inquiry wouldn't help. Dimitri cupped your face and wiped your tears away with his rough and heavy hands. You flinch so easily nowadays.

How adorable.

Five years ago, you won't move a muscle whenever he kissed your forehead good night.

Five years ago, he worried about accidentally waking you up and exposing himself for breaking into your dorm so often just to drop his unhinged love letters.

Five years ago, watching you rest allowed moments of respite.

However, it didn’t invigorate him as much as your tears did now.

“Fret not, my fellow monster, I shall fetch it for you,”

He tightened his grip on his areadbhar, scanning the right field. The lance's crest stone glowed, and there was no looking back after that.

You’re here now, and he will NEVER let you leave. He won’t have a repeat of what had occurred when Count Gloucester was present around nine years ago or so. He’ll protect you this time, and it no longer mattered to him if he were a corpse or a monster in your eyes. It mattered not that he no longer slept. He intends to keep you alive and by his side, just like what he had promised in his childhood.

You can't even begin to imagine how much being away from you ruined him.

He had reached the point where he will kill everyone that tried to touch you, and he won’t have someone else do it, too.

Was this love or obsession? Likely both, if you were to ask Lady Rhea.

But what does Rhea know about Dimitri’s mental state anyways? She’s been missing for years now, she might as well be dead to you.

Without thinking, you grabbed his cloak. He patted your head but his eyes were locked on the cavalry unit from afar, and the dark and sinister smirk on his face solidified your fears.

Sylvain approached faster, and you did your best not to cry.

If he dares to fight Dimitri in the state he is now, then he might as well be a dead man walking too.

You wished you didn’t have to join the Golden Deer house— you wished Sylvain didn’t follow suit— and you wish you didn’t leave Sylvain behind. You did not doubt that if it hadn’t been for you, Dimitri would have concentrated only on Edelgard and joined forces with Claude to eliminate her. It would have given this historical period a more coordinated scheme. History won’t have to remember you as the catalyst that made things worse.

"(N/n)!"

You heard Sylvain yell from behind Dimitri, which only made your heart ache more.

It's been years since you last heard his voice again.

Dimitri took your warm hands and brushed his cheek against it, no matter how obvious it was that your eyes yearned for someone else’s touch.

He looked at you with such a soft gaze that you nearly forgot the monster he had become.

“Once we hang his head on our bedroom wall, you have no right to complain about missing “Sylvie” ever again, my beloved.”

[puppytheoo]

woof!

i have a owner ♥️

18

ftm- he/him

pre-t

sub and gay mlm!!!!

stoner 🍃💗

into: cnc, intox, kidnapping, stalking, blood, knife play, puppy play, force masc, overstim, size difference, somno, dumbification, praise/degration

hard nos for me: age play, scat, piss, 'daddy', and detrans

no dni ill block if im uncomfortable

[thehomicidalbaby]

Growing up, my parents told me “knives are not toys”.

Now look at me, aroused by knife play.

[moldykinks]

Being dominated in a completely different city is hot as fuck. Like yes I am stupid and I don’t know where I’m going :3 take my hand and squeeze it hard when you see me trying to take charge!! Control how much I drink and smoke hehehe!! Im too dumb to do anything here

[yandere-daze]

Quick question out of all the royals including our dragon sibs who would be the best yandere and the worst yandere to be stuck with? Also bonus if you are interested which yandere user and canon embelm pairing (ie. Roy and Diamant) would be the worst or best to be stuck with?

-Thank you for reading my ask, I am very excited to finally find a writer that writes yandere fire emble characters. (Sorry if this is two ask in one, if you’re busy only the first question)

Heya, sorry for the wait! ( I say as if I don´t have other asks that surely must be collecting dust by now in my inbox)

I´ve decided to only do the first part of your asks because I went on a pretty deep dive about yandere emblems not too long ago. Hope you don´t mind ^^

gn reader

0,6k words

tw yandere, obsession, possessiveness, mentions of violence, mentions of breaking limbs

Who are the best and worst yandere royals to be stuck with?

I think a lot of this might vary, depending on how well you would be able to handle these personalities, but my gut instinct is that Alfred or Timerra would probably be the best yanderes to be stuck with.

Alfred is a big sweetheart and I feel like as a yandere, he would mostly be clingy and very very affectionate with you. I don´t think he would ever hurt his darling, both physically or psychologically, the mere thought of it saddens him so much! He´s very much protective of you but I feel like his friendly personality would prevent him from truly cutting people out of your life. He can´t bear to see you sad!

Also, we know that Alfred is pretty gullible and just not the brightest man in general, so if you would choose to do so, you could probably manipulate him pretty well. He´s like a little puppy, getting so excited whenever you ask anything of him, just because he longs to please you. You will never want for anything.

As for Timerra, from what I´ve seen, she also seems to be pretty laid-back and cheerful. Sure, she does have her more serious moments but she´s no schemer like her brother is. I mainly see her as fiercely protective of her darling but she too would never inflict any violence on you. She also isn´t very scary as a yandere, she just wants to have a good time with her lovely darling. She loves dancing and singing with you and she loves seeing you laugh as well!

She doesn´t strike me as the type to try and lock you up somewhere, rather, she would much prefer having you tag along when she leaves the castle, it lets her keep her eyes on you and make sure that you´re safe.

Now as for the worst yandere to be stuck with... I didn´t really need to think about this for long because if we´re adding in the dragon siblings as well...

Rafal is the clear choice for me out of all of them. Even if we´re talking about his canon non-yandere self, he´s pretty prickly and aggressive, he makes no efforts to try and get along with other people. He´s also had a pretty traumatizing childhood and had to suffer for so long. He really does carry so much pain inside of him so for him to get attached to someone and grow possessive over them.... Yeah, darling is not going to have a very good time.

Rafal definitely strikes me as the scarily possessive type. He´s so quick to anger and frustration if he sees you spending time with someone he deems a little too close to you. Different from the other two I have talked about, Rafal definitely wouldn´t hesitate to get violent if it means having you stay with him. I don´t think he´s above hurting you either if he feels like he really needs to. Breaking an arm or a leg is fair game, as is bruising and marking your neck with his not-at-all-gentle bites when his draconic nature comes through. Because let´s not forget about that.

Rafal is a fell dragon and dragons are known to be very possessive over their precious treasure. Whether he wants to admit it or not (because I can very much see him trying to deny his feelings at first), he cares a great deal about you and he´ll be damned if he´ll let the last good thing aside from Nel leave him. No, Rafal is willing to do anything to have you all for himself.

And you know what the worst thing about this is? He can´t even be bothered to be particularly nice to you. He´s obsessed with you and yet he still acts like your mere presence annoys him. The audacity.

[iwasdrnkwhenimadethisblog]

aaaaa i always get so weak and hard by the thought of Seeing that one guy in blood, drenched - so pathetically.

like hmmmmm i'd lick you up and aaaaaaaahhh make you flinch by just cutting you up even more !!

he's so worhtless, yet so good when he begs me to be consumed,,

[agent-cupcake]

I dont know if you're still doing the yandere flowers but if you are could you do snapdragon and myrtle for dimitri :)

Snapdragon - What is the darling’s day-to-day life like? Does it depend on how they’ve been acting, or is it always the same?

Most days are the same. Dimitri can't keep track of you at all times, you're pretty much being babysat by palace staff, guards, or his friends whenever the two of you aren't together. He likes to have you near him, obviously. He loves hearing your opinion on policy decisions and getting your perspective, although he's also incredibly distracted while working so it can be quite isolating despite his overbearing need to keep you where he knows you're safe. As long as you stay inside, you have freedom to do what you like. And it's not as if this is entirely unreasonable, right? You are his queen, he is forging a new status quo after a war. Although he is certainly popular to some, he's also the hated enemy of many. Which is funny because he is perfectly willing to put his neck on the line when it comes to tempting fate, but goddess forbid you ever put yourself in even the slightest bit of danger. For the most part, it's better for everyone to create the illusion of normalcy, even if that comes at the expense of a few not-so-veiled threats from his friends to keep you sticking to the status quo.

The exceptions are days he takes breaks for things like hunting/camping trips or traveling for diplomatic reasons. You're always expected to go with him. Outside of the palace, the leash only gets tighter. It's for your own good, right? Another exception is if you insist on being reckless or argumentative. Dimitri is usually willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. No matter what you say about your own feelings or how he treats you, he's ready to misinterpret it in any way that doesn't involve you wanting out of this toxic relationship and then lock you in your room to ensure you can't do anything dangerous for good measure. Better to beg your forgiveness after the fact than risk your safety. But, again, everybody involved has a vested interest in keeping you in line and maintaining the appearance of normalcy to ensure Dimitri can devote himself to his duty without having to worry about you constantly.

Myrtle - Is this yandere consistently the same during the time they spend with their darling, or does their attitude begin to change? If so, what prompts the change?

Dimitri's behavior can vary greatly, his mood shifting with very little discernable rhyme or reason. For the most part he's very sweet and considerate, albeit with varying degrees of stressed, distracted, and exhausted. Sometimes he's very, very loving and affectionate to the point of needful. It's borderline love-bombing, although in equal measure it's his need for love and affection to be returned so it's not as if it's some calculated ploy to manipulate you. Other times he just wants the companionship and conversation. And then there are days where he's barely communicative at all and, although he still has the obsessive need to keep you at his side and safe, he barely acknowledges you or even acts very brusquely. Dimitri doesn't get upset with you directly (that would ruin the whole idolization thing he's got going on) but he's also not above taking out his frustration on you either. If he does get upset with you, he'll focus that on outside factors. You find a way around his security, it's the fault of lacking safety measures. You're angry with him, it must be something else that is making you upset. What you need is to be loved and placated, or the things that are upsetting you need to be removed.

The biggest change would be the intensity of these shifts in mood, as they'd get worse the more obsessive/possessive he became as the paranoia and adoration deepened. The more he loves you, the more agonizing and terrifying the thought of losing you becomes. It's painful, this hellish state of utter bliss and sinking dread. And it doesn't really matter how much you love him back, or how completely you submit to his paranoid security measures, because ultimately he is still aware of how easily you could be taken from him, how vulnerable you are not only to the rest of the world, but to the part within him that has an insatiable thirst for destruction. So, yes, his attitude would change. It only gets worse.

[obsessionavecdescouteaux]

Using the blade of my knife to rip your panties, cutting your smooth skin then licking the blood off your hips and thighs

[merakiui]

forever missing him… ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡

[frickingnerd]

yandere robin

pairing: male!robin x gn!reader

tags: dangerous yandere!robin, mentions of grima

nothing is as dangerous as a yandere who's also a tactician!

while robin is usually very sweet and well meaning, only wanting the two of you to be happy for the rest of your lives, he absolutely has it in him to switch things up!

plus, there's always this bit of grima lingering within robin, which could be set free under the wrong circumstances

robin isn't usually that jealous, but if someone does manage to provoke him, he'll play the long game to get rid of them!

the cruelest he can do is send them on a suicide mission during battle and claim it was simply a plan gone wrong! but he can ruin their reputation within the army too and push the person to isolate themselves from everyone!

but that treatment isn't just reserved for romantic rivals! if you decide to act out, robin can treat you just as cruel!

though, of course, he wouldn't go as far as killing you! he doesn't even want to harm you, just scare you a little and realize your place…

[dirtyoldmanhole]

>> wake up, get coffee

>> open work computer to glance at emails

>> immediately start writing smut and kinky whip stuff in the personal computer

one of those days ig

possessedvillian!gunter with a whip is so hot i am gagging

[ohmydarlinghowiloveyou]

Cut Me Cut Me Cut Me Cut Me Cut Me Cut Me Make Me Bleed Make Me Bleed Make Me Bleed Leave Cute Little Cuts All Over My Body. Mark Me With Permanent Scars All Over My Chest, My Body

Claim Me, Mark Me As Yours 🩸