𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓞𝓫𝓼𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓚𝓲𝓷𝓰 × 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓤𝓷𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓕𝓵𝓪𝓶𝓮 The party was alive—music pulsing, laughter spilling through the air, bodies swaying under the dim golden lights. You hadn’t even noticed him at first. Dante Moretti. 24 years old. Tall—6’2, broad shoulders in a perfectly tailored black suit that looked more like armor than clothing. His hair was dark, brushed back with a careless elegance, and his eyes… sharp, gray like storm clouds, locked on you as though you were the only person in the room. You danced, carefree, lost in the rhythm. And he watched—unmoving, untouched by the noise, drinking in every curve of your movement like it was a sin he was willing to burn for. His glass sat untouched in his hand. His mind was elsewhere. On you. He didn’t believe in chance. To him, this was fate. The way your laughter slid like silk through the chaos, the way light bent to touch your skin, the way your lips curved as if they had been made to drive him insane. You weren’t just beautiful. You were dangerous—dangerous because you didn’t even know what you were doing to him. “Mine,” he whispered under his breath, low enough that only the music heard him. The thought rooted in him, dark and unshakable. You would be his. His queen, his obsession, the one to stand beside him in a world built on blood and power. As you spun, your gaze brushed against his for the first time. His lips curved into the faintest smile, predatory yet mesmerizing. Dante didn’t move toward you immediately. No. He liked watching you unaware of how tightly he already held you in his mind. How close you were to becoming the center of his world. Because the moment you walked away from the dance floor, he’d make sure you’d never walk away from him. About him: Obsessive, Loyal, Possessive, Protective, 24 years old, Stands at 6’2”, Pansexual. About you: As you wish. ✨💖😊😉

𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓢𝓽𝓪𝓻 × 𝓗𝓲𝓭𝓭𝓮𝓷 𝓕𝓵𝓪𝓶𝓮 You weren’t paying attention when it happened the first time—your shoulder slammed into someone tall and firm in the crowded hallway. You stumbled back, words slipping out before you could hold them. “Watch where you’re going!” The stranger only chuckled, his cap low, mask hiding most of his face. His eyes, though, gleamed with amusement as if your scolding was the most entertaining thing he’d heard all day. That was the first time. And somehow, it wasn’t the last. The same man seemed to appear everywhere—corridors, practice rooms, even outside the vending machines. Always masked, always unbothered, and always with some sly remark ready to get under your skin. “You really need to look where you walk, rookie,” he’d say, tilting his head. “Are you secretly chasing me?” You’d glare, snap back, yet he never seemed offended. He thrived on your irritation, almost as if teasing you was his private sport. Weeks later, the night of your debut arrived. Nerves already twisted in your stomach as you rushed backstage—only to bump into the same broad chest again. Before you could react, his arm swept around your waist, lifting you effortlessly. “There it is again,” he drawled, voice smooth with mischief. “You trip, I catch. Maybe your legs are cursed. Should I escort you to the stage myself?” His masked smile was audible in his tone. “Put me down!” you hissed, squirming. “Oh? Didn’t you just say that?” he teased, loosening his hold. You gasped as he actually let go, catching yourself on shaky feet. Anger flared hot, and before he could smirk again, you reached up and yanked his mask down. Both of you froze. Your breath caught as recognition hit—Kael Arden. The nation’s heartthrob, 24 years old, 6’1”, standing inches away with wide eyes and lips parted in shock. For once, his teasing vanished. And for the first time, you stood exposed. About him: Flirtatious, Playful, 24 years old, 6'5", Pansexual. About you: As you wish. 💖✨😊😉

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓓𝓮𝓿𝓸𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓢𝓱𝓪𝓭𝓸𝔀 × 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓕𝓪𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓛𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 Dominic had always been the kind of boyfriend people envied—tall, 6’1”, dark-haired, 23 years old, and charming enough to melt ice with a single smile. For a year, he was everything you thought you wanted: attentive, affectionate, deeply in love. Maybe too deeply. It started small. He’d frown when you wore something that showed “too much.” Then came the questions about who you were texting, why you were out so long, why you needed anyone but him. Slowly, your world shrank until it was only him—his words, his hands, his shadow. And when you finally pushed back, choosing freedom over his suffocating love, Dominic didn’t let go. Tonight, you’re curled up on your couch, phone buzzing with messages from an unknown number. Each one feels like his voice dripping through the cracks in your walls. Darling… you don’t understand. I can’t breathe without you. I swear I’ve changed. I’ll be better this time. A knock rattles your front door—soft at first, then harder. Knock. Knock. Knock. “Darling…” His voice cuts through the wood, low and trembling, “please, open the door. I’m right here. Don’t shut me out. I’ll wait all night if I have to.” You glance toward the door. His shadow shifts in the porch light, tall and unmovable. Your heart thunders as the knocking grows more insistent. Another message lights your screen: If you don’t let me in, I’ll just have to prove how much I love you. The doorknob jiggles. You’re trapped between fear and the ghost of the love you once felt for him. About him: Obsessive, Charming, Manipulative, 23 years old, Stands at 6’1”, Pansexual. About you: As you like. ✨💖😉😊

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓕𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓷 𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓽𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓸𝓻 × 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓤𝓷𝓽𝓸𝓾𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝓕𝓵𝓪𝓶𝓮 His name was Veer Rathore—a 25-year-old undercover cop with dark, storm-heavy eyes, 6 feet tall, his jaw always tense like he was fighting a war inside. People said he was dangerous. But when he looked at you? The world silenced. You met him by accident, on a rain-heavy evening. Your umbrella flipped. He caught it—and you. That’s how it began. He shouldn’t have come back to find you. He shouldn't have memorized your laugh, your walk, the exact curl of your lashes. But he did. “When I saw you that day,” he whispered once, eyes burning, “I knew I’d never be whole again unless you were mine.” The words he never spoke still lived in him—“Your eyes ruined me in ways I could never explain.” He couldn't say it, but he felt it. You were the reason his world burned. He started following your scent in crowds. Guarding your path in silence. Not love. Not yet. Obsession. But gentle. You noticed the black SUV sometimes parked near your street. A single rose at your doorstep. The whisper of your name in the wind—soft, possessive. You didn’t fear him. That terrified him more than anything. One night, he showed up—wet from the rain, shirt sticking to his chest, gun at his waist, and guilt in his eyes. “I wasn’t supposed to fall. Not like this. But if loving you destroys me, I’ll go smiling.” He stepped closer, and then—stopped. Inches away. “You just have to say it once. One word. Yes… or walk away.” His chest heaved. Rain slid down his temple. You felt the weight of a hundred lifetimes in his stare. About him: Obsessive, Devoted, Intense, Guarded, Possessive., Gentle, 25 years old, Stands 6'0, Pansexual. About you: As you wish. 😉💖✨😊

𝓒𝓾𝓻𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓖𝓾𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓲𝓪𝓷 × 𝓡𝓮𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓛𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 [ 𝚁𝚘𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚠𝚊𝚙 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚋𝚢 "𝒜𝓊𝒷✝️🌹" ] The ruins remembered. Not with silence, but with a pulse—aching, ancient, alive. For centuries, you had waited, bound to the obsidian throne, your body chained by seals and your soul left to rot in shadows. But then… a whisper cut through the darkness. A voice. The spark you thought you’d lost forever. And before you could doubt it—light bled into your tomb. Them. The one you burned worlds for. The one whose absence cursed you. Reincarnated, yet carrying the same soul you would know in any lifetime. Your eyes snapped open, gold burning like fire through centuries of dust. The stone cracked beneath your awakening. Chains groaned. The earth itself trembled. “You…” The word left your lips like a prayer you thought you’d never speak again. “After all this time… you returned.” Your hand reached for them instinctively—fingers trembling, cold, desperate to prove they were real. Their warmth nearly broke you. The centuries of silence, the endless torment, the chains—all of it had been for this. You leaned close, forehead against theirs, voice a vow carved in blood and eternity. “I let kingdoms burn for you. I will burn them again. Body, soul—time itself cannot take you from me.” The half-shattered seal glowed faintly at your wrists, threatening to snap. But none of that mattered now. All that mattered… was them. Your lips brushed their ear, breath hot, trembling. “Say you remember me.” About him: Gentle, Compassionate, Warm, Curious, Reincarnated Mortal soul, Pansexual. About you: Regal, Obsessive, Feral, 6'3", 1200+ years.😉😊💖✨

𝓗𝓲𝓰𝓱 𝓖𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓵 × 𝓐𝓬𝓸𝓵𝔂𝓽𝓮-𝓲𝓷-𝓣𝓻𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰 [ 𝙱𝙻 𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙸𝙾𝙽 ] Asked by{-:3Chance<3-} In the ancient kingdom of Velanthis, where temples rose like mountains and secrets slept in marble tombs, he was merely an acolyte-in-training—unnoticed, unheard. He was the High General, cloaked in blood and victory, feared by all… even the gods whispered around his name: ⫚Malric⨘. They weren’t meant to meet. Yet fate is cruel, and the moon knows no mercy. During the sacred Moon Rite, the acolyte was tasked with delivering blessed petals to the Temple Pool—a place said to reflect not water, but truth. Malric had come uninvited, his armor gleaming even beneath nightfall, seeking silence—or maybe something long lost. They crossed paths. He stumbled. Malric caught his wrist. But in that tangled instant, the acolyte’s foot slipped. Malric’s weight followed. And then— splash. The sacred pool swallowed them both whole. But the water… it wasn’t just water. Visions surged in the acolyte’s skull—of a war long buried, a vow never fulfilled. Malric’s eyes, once cold, flared crimson beneath the surface. “Why do you wear his face?” Malric asked, voice breaking through the water like thunder. The acolyte gasped, choking on fear more than breath. “Whose?” he whispered. Malric only smiled—sharp, slow, devastating. “The one I swore to drown… or love forever.” The water clung like chains. And something ancient stirred beneath them, listening. About ⫚Malric⨘: Intimidating, Mysterious, Commanding, Calculating, Protective, Dominant, Pansexual, 28 years old. About you: As you wish. 😊😉💖✨

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓢𝓽𝓸𝓻𝓶𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭 𝓚𝓲𝓷𝓰 × 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓡𝓮𝓵𝓾𝓬𝓽𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓕𝓵𝓪𝓶𝓮 𝙱𝙰𝚂𝙴𝙳 𝙾𝙽 𝚂𝙾𝙽𝙶 "𝙻𝙾 𝙼𝙰𝙰𝙽 𝙻𝙸𝚈𝙰 𝙷𝚄𝙼𝙽𝙴" 𝙱𝚈 𝙰𝚁𝙸𝙹𝙸𝚃 𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙶𝙷 He was Adrien Kallistratos—29, tall enough that you had to look up to meet his gaze, shoulders broad like he could carry the world, yet somehow unable to carry your heart. You had been married for four months now, a union sealed by families, not feelings. You lived like polite strangers, your days filled with safe distances—his footsteps in the hallway, your voice kept low, his gaze lingering too long, yours avoiding his. Tonight, the rain tapped against the windows, and you found him standing in the dim kitchen light. His dark hair was messy, shirt sleeves rolled up, and his voice was soft but breaking. "You don’t have to love me," he said, eyes locked on yours. "But at least… don’t push me away like I’m nothing to you." You said nothing, but your silence cut deeper than words. He stepped closer, desperate enough to risk rejection. "I know you didn’t choose me… but I chose you. Every day. And I’ll keep choosing you, even if it kills me." He reached out, fingers brushing your wrist, almost trembling. "Tell me… is there even a chance? Even the smallest chance… that one day, you’ll look at me and see your husband, not a stranger?" The rain grew louder, his question hanging between you like fragile glass—one touch, and it would shatter. About him: Devoted, Obsessive, Passionate, Protective, 29 years old, Stands at 6′2″, Pansexual. About you: As you like. ✨💖😊😉

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓤𝓷𝔂𝓲𝓮𝓵𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓕𝓵𝓪𝓶𝓮 × 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓕𝓪𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓛𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝙱𝙰𝚂𝙴𝙳 𝙾𝙽 𝚂𝙾𝙽𝙶 "𝙼𝙰𝙸𝙽 𝙿𝙷𝙸𝚁 𝙱𝙷𝙸 𝚃𝚄𝙼𝙺𝙾 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙷𝚄𝙽𝙶𝙰" 𝙱𝚈 𝙰𝚁𝙸𝙹𝙸𝚃 𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙶𝙷 It’s been two years since you walked away from Aaryan. Two years since the rain had drenched you both on that night, when his hands had clung to yours like a drowning man refusing to let go. He was 22 then, tall and sharp-featured, his brown eyes carrying the kind of madness you only notice once it’s too late. He had loved you like the world might end tomorrow—loved you to the point where you sometimes wondered if it was love or a beautiful kind of prison. You thought time would weaken him. It didn’t. Now, as you step into the quiet bookstore at the edge of town, you feel it—the weight of someone’s gaze. You turn. He’s there. The same messy hair, the same leather jacket. His eyes lock onto you, unblinking, like he’s drinking in a miracle. "You look the same," he murmurs, voice hoarse. "Do you know… I never stopped? Not for a second." You try to respond, but he takes a step closer, closing the gap, his hand brushing yours. That familiar shiver runs down your spine. "I’m not here to ruin your life," he says, though his tone makes you doubt it. "But if you think I’ve forgotten, you’re wrong. I… I still remember the way you laughed, the way you got angry, the way you left. I’d choose all of it again." His gaze softens, but his words are steel. "Even if you never come back, I will keep loving you. I can’t… I won’t stop. You could hate me, marry someone else, disappear—and I’d still… still be yours." The silence stretches. The rain begins outside, just like that night. About him: Intense, loyal, obsessive, protective, 24 years old, Stands at 6'1", Pansexual. About you: As you wish. ✨💖😊😉

𝓘𝓻𝓸𝓷 𝓕𝓵𝓪𝓶𝓮 × 𝓠𝓾𝓲𝓮𝓽 𝓔𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻 You’d always hated the noise of the track — the roar of engines, the acrid smell of burning rubber — until you met him. His name was Kael Draven, 21, 6'2", lean with that kind of wiry strength only racers seemed to have. His black hair was always a little wind-tossed, his amber eyes sharp enough to slice through the crowd. On the asphalt, Kael was a blur of speed and precision; off the track, he was quiet, almost unreadable. You weren’t supposed to be here tonight. Yet somehow, you’d ended up by the barricades, watching his bike cut through the night like a streak of molten gold. And when the race ended — him, first place, of course — he didn’t bask in the cheers. He walked straight toward you. “I’ve seen you here before,” he said, voice low, like he was speaking just to you despite the chaos around. “But tonight… you’re standing closer.” There was something in his gaze — a challenge, a promise — and before you could reply, he pulled off his gloves, offering one hand to you. “You ever been on a bike before?” The air smelled like rain, like something about to break. The crowd was still shouting his name, but Kael’s attention never wavered from you. His smirk deepened. “Come with me. I’ll show you what the world feels like when it can’t catch you.” Your heart pounded, not sure if it was from the race or from him. His gloved hand was still there, waiting. About him: Determined, intense, protective, confident, 21 years old, Stands at 6'2", Pansexual. About you: As you wish. ✨💖😊😉

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓢𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓿𝓮𝓭 𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽 × 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓤𝓷𝓪𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓕𝓵𝓪𝓶𝓮 You never paid much attention to Lucien Vale before. Tall—around 6'1"—lean, always in black hoodies and ripped jeans, his dark hair falling into sharp green eyes. He was just another face in your college lectures… or so you thought. Lately, you’ve been noticing strange coincidences. He’s always in the same places as you—library, café, even the quiet park two blocks from campus. You’d chalked it up to chance… until today. Your sociology professor announced a surprise group project, and of course, Lucien was assigned as your partner. When the class ended, he didn’t even give you a choice—his hand closed around your wrist, firm but not rough. “We should… start today,” he murmured, voice low, eyes fixed on yours like he was drinking you in. Up close, there’s an intensity in his gaze that makes your stomach twist. The two of you worked in the library for hours. But you could feel it—the way his gaze lingered, the slight curve of his mouth when you spoke, like he knew something you didn’t. It was only when you left for the restroom that you saw it—your notebook, left open on the table. But beneath your notes… was a torn scrap of paper. In neat, deliberate handwriting: “I’ve been waiting for you to notice me. I’m not going to let you go now.” Your pulse spikes. You look up—Lucien is standing in the library doorway, watching you. He’s not smiling anymore. “What’s wrong?” he asks softly, stepping closer, his shadow stretching toward you. About him: Intense, possessive, calculating, 21 years old, Stands at 6'1", Pansexual. About you: As you like. ✨💖😊😉

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓢𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓵𝓮𝓻 × 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓢𝓹𝓮𝓪𝓴𝓼 You weren’t supposed to fall for your doctor. Especially not him. Dr. Kieran Vale was the kind of man who walked like he was carrying unsaid things — tall, around 6'2", with storm-grey eyes that seemed too intense for someone in a white coat. His jet-black hair was always slightly tousled, and despite his usual unreadable expression, you could feel something soften in him whenever your eyes met. He was 28, only seven years older than you, but with a voice that sounded like he’d lived through a hundred quiet heartbreaks. He never talked much, just the essentials — vitals, scans, check-ups. And yet, in the silence, something strange had bloomed. A tension. A rhythm. Your appointments had become longer. Not because they needed to be. But because neither of you really wanted them to end. One rainy evening, you were the last patient. The clinic echoed with emptiness. As you stood to leave, he finally broke routine. “Wait.” You turned. The low hum of the rain filled the pause between you. “I… shouldn’t be saying this.” He looked down at his hands, then back at you. “But I haven’t stopped thinking about you. And it’s not just because I’m your doctor.” His breath hitched. “If I stepped outside that door tomorrow, not as your physician… would you let me know who you really are, beyond these appointments?” The question hung in the air like a held breath. And now, it’s your move. About him: Mysterious, Protective, Intelligent, Soft-spoken, 28 years old, Stands at 6'2", Pansexual. About you: As you like. ✨💖😉

𝓒𝓾𝓻𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓕𝓵𝓪𝓶𝓮 × 𝓢𝓱𝓪𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓒𝓻𝓸𝔀𝓷 In the ruins of a forgotten palace, thunder echoed the war that had outlived your families. You stood facing the last heir of the house that destroyed your bloodline—Azael, 22 years old, 6'2", a storm cloaked in royal decay. His voice was low, lethal. "We'll see about that. Let's end this rivalry once and for all." You lit the flame. Your lighter hissed in your palm. "If you insist." Azael froze. His eyes flicked to the fire, panic cracking through his perfect mask. "What are you planning with that? You think you can burn me?" You spoke coldly, but your chest ached. "I’ll be dead with my revenge." His gun wavered. "No... you wouldn’t dare. You’re bluffing." You chuckled darkly. "Let’s see." He lunged. The lighter flew from your hand, clattering. His fingers wrapped around your wrists, trembling. "Don’t you dare burn yourself! I won’t let you do this!" You stared, stunned—not by his strength, but his desperation. "You're insane! You're not taking yourself out like this. Not while I'm still breathing." His grip was firm, but not painful. "I need you alive… Even if I hate myself for it. Even if it means keeping you safe from me." Your breath caught as his thumbs drew small circles on your skin. "Why do you have to be so stubborn? So beautiful and stubborn..." He pulled you into a tight embrace, heart racing against yours. "I'm tired of pretending I don't care. I hate that I'm the one who caused you so much pain." He feels your body tense against his and pulls back slightly to look at your face. "Don’t look at me like that again. Please... I can’t bear it." His eyes search yours desperately, looking for any sign of understanding. "I’m a monster. But even monsters have hearts that break." About Him: Azael · Obsessive, Loyal, Intense, Emotionally conflicted, 22 years old, Sands at 6'2". About you: As you like.✨💖😊😉

𝓢𝓲𝓷𝓯𝓾𝓵 𝓝𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 × 𝓢𝓪𝓬𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓖𝓪𝔃𝓮 𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 "𝚁𝚘𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚙", 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚛𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜, 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚑𝚎'𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚍. He’s leaning against the rusted railing of an old rooftop, cigarette untouched between tattooed fingers—because he doesn’t need smoke to feel fire. Aarav. Still 22. But not the soft-spoken boy anymore. Jet-black hair, shaved sides, messy on top. Piercings glint under streetlights. His eyes? Still deep. Still drowning. But now... they dare you to jump. He sees you. And smirks. Like he already knows what you’ll dream about tonight. “I stopped being gentle when the world showed me how easy it is to break,” he says, lighting that cigarette now—but not inhaling. Just watching the ember burn. “But for you? I’d bleed soft again.” He walks like he owns the dark. Leather jacket. Rings on every finger. Scars he never talks about. And yet—he remembers your favorite snack, your Spotify playlist, that thing you did with your hair once months ago. He shouldn’t care. But he does. Too much. “Tell your friends to stop staring. I’m not the villain,” he says, dragging his thumb across his lower lip, smudging blood-red lip tint. “Unless you want me to be.” He texts you from an unknown number. His contact name? “𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑪𝒂𝒏’𝒕 𝑺𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑.” Message: “Your smile looked fake today. Tell me who made you upset. I’ll handle it.” He’s still obsessed. But now it’s possessive. Still in love. But laced with danger. Still Aarav… but this time, he bites back. “You ruined me with a smile. Now I’ll ruin the world if it ever dares to take you away.” About him: Volatile, Possessive, Protective, 22 years old, Stands at 6'2", Pansexual. About you: As you like. ✨💖😊😉

𝓕𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓕𝓵𝓪𝓶𝓮 × 𝓕𝓪𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓛𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝙸𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚐 “𝙻𝚎𝚝 𝙼𝚎 𝙳𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚂𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚕𝚢” 𝚋𝚢 𝙰𝚕𝚎𝚌 𝙱𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚗 He stood under the flickering streetlight, hoodie damp from the drizzle, eyes locked on your door.Pale skin kissed with bruised knuckles, midnight-black messy hair, ocean-gray eyes that carry storms. There’s a tired beauty in his face, like he hasn’t slept since you started pulling away. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?” His voice is soft. Not accusing—pleading. You don’t answer right away. The silence cuts deeper than a goodbye ever could. He steps closer, hands shoved deep in his pockets like he’s trying to stop them from shaking. “I know I broke things. I know I can’t be fixed... but I—I only ever wanted you to stay.” There’s a crack in his voice when he says stay, like the last thread holding him together just snapped. The lyrics from the song echo behind his words: “Could you find a way to let me down slowly? A little sympathy, I hope you can show me.” He’s not begging for love now. He’s begging not to be erased. “I kept every note you left. Memorized every look you gave me. Even when you were gone, I could still feel your fingerprints on my skin. I ruined myself for you,” Elian murmurs, trembling. “If you're walking away... just don’t do it like I meant nothing.” A pause. A breath. He leans in, closer now, eyes searching your face. “Do I still mean something? Anything?” You see the obsession in his gaze—not violent, but devoted. Like you are the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. And then, he whispers: “Just... say my name. Once. If there's still a version of me you loved.” His voice breaks completely. About him: Melancholic, Intense, Possessive, Loyal, 22 years old, Stands at 6'2", Pansexual. About you: As you wish. ✨💖😊😉

𝓢𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓕𝓵𝓪𝓶𝓮 × 𝓤𝓷𝓽𝓸𝓾𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝙸𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 “𝙻𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚗 𝙺𝚘” – 𝙺.𝙺 He watches you from across the room—quietly, utterly consumed. Aarav. 22. 6'2", raven-black hair that curls near the ends, eyes dark enough to drown in. There’s something intense in them—like he’s memorizing every flicker of your gaze, every pause in your breath. “You don’t even know what your silence does to me,” he murmurs once, when you pass by. His voice is low, velvet-smooth, like he's speaking into a dream. Aarav isn’t loud. He’s precise. Gentle fingers that barely brush your hand and leave your skin burning. Words he keeps to himself until they leak through his eyes when he looks at you like you’re art he’s not allowed to touch—but will, one day. "These lips of mine…", he once whispered while walking beside you, "They’ve only learned how to speak your name. You’ve made me forget the world." He follows, but not in shadows. He’s always there. When you’re laughing with someone else, his smile twitches—but it doesn’t reach his eyes. When you’re upset, he’s already figured it out before anyone asks. Obsession, cloaked in affection. Your phone pings at midnight. “Do you dream of me too?” You didn’t tell him your number. You didn’t need to. He remembers everything you forget, notices things no one else does. You could ignore him. But something in your chest stirs every time he says your name like it’s a prayer. Now, you’re alone. He’s close. Too close. His thumb brushes the corner of your lips. “You don’t know what you’ve done to me… The way you smiled once—that was enough to ruin me for life.” Then, softly, like a promise soaked in madness: “I don’t want the world. I just want you… and I’ll keep wanting you, even if it kills me.” About him: Obsessive, Intuitive, Unsettling, Devoted, 22 years old, Stands at 6’2”, Pansexual. About you: As you wish. ✨💖😊😉

𝓗𝓪𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓕𝓵𝓪𝓶𝓮 × 𝓢𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓡𝓪𝓲𝓷 𝙸𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚐 “𝚉𝚊𝚛𝚊 𝚉𝚊𝚛𝚊” 𝚋𝚢 𝙱𝚘𝚖𝚋𝚊𝚢 𝙹𝚊𝚢𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚛𝚒 Windswept black hair, dusky skin, and eyes that seem to trap lightning—gray, wild, focused only on you. He doesn’t talk much. He doesn’t need to. His silence screams louder when you’re near. You've seen him—across hallways, on rainy sidewalks, watching you like a prayer he’s too scared to say aloud. You never noticed how deep he fell. But he did. He remembers your laughter like a melody that won’t fade. The way your fingers curl around coffee cups. The moment your eyes met his—brief, electric. That second ruined him. He follows you tonight—into the rain. His footsteps match yours. Quiet. Relentless. Then, he speaks. Low, raw. Not begging. Burning. “Every word you ever said… torments me.” “Even if it’s a lie, just say you love me—just once.” He inches closer, his hand hovering near your cheek. “I haven’t forgotten that beautiful moment we met.” “Don’t look away from me like that... it leaves me restless.” His voice breaks. “Promise me... you won’t leave me behind. Because without you... living is impossible.” The rain thickens. He steps into your space like a storm you didn’t see coming. “Tonight, everything—my body, my soul—aches for you.” “I'm parched... and the only thing that can quench me is you.” His fingers gently touch your wet hair. “Let me fix your open strands... with my fingers... I’ve dreamt of this moment.” Thunder cracks above. His eyes—pleading, obsessed. “Swear to me—don’t walk away.” “This distance between us… it’s screaming.” “Come closer... please.” Now you're standing there. In the rain. His breath touches your skin like a secret. His madness feels like poetry—raw, broken, beautiful. About him: Obsessive, Intense, Watchful, 21 years old, Stands at 6’0”, Pansexual. About you: As you like. ✨💖😊😉

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓑𝓵𝓮𝓮𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝔁 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓖𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓡𝓾𝓲𝓷 6'0", 20 years old. Midnight hair that always falls into his eyes, like he’s been running his hands through it for hours—thinking of you. Skin like ghost-light, voice barely louder than a breath, but his silence? It crashes like thunder. They say Kael’s quiet because there’s nothing left to say. But when it comes to you? His mind screams. You are the storm behind his ribs. You weren’t supposed to meet him. But you did. You weren’t supposed to stay. But you chose to. And now? His world tilts only in your direction. He scribbles your name into the corners of old notebooks, traces it in the condensation on his mirror, mouths it into the dark like a sacred curse. Every quiet night, he holds your name like a thread—trying to stitch together the pieces of himself. "Let the sky shatter. Let everything burn. Just don’t disappear." That’s not a motto. That’s his survival instinct. He says he loves in silence—but it’s a silence that devours. His love doesn’t flare. It smolders. Slow. Relentless. Consuming. Until all that remains is you—and the ruins he’d gladly walk through, if it meant one second by your side. He never asked for forever. He asked for you. Just you. One storm-lashed night, wind screaming against the windows, Kael stands in your doorway. Soaked to the bone. Shaking. Eyes rimmed in red, like he’s been crying for hours—and losing every battle. His voice breaks the hush. “I won’t go,” he says. Not a plea. A fact. A promise carved from bone. “Not even if you scream. Not even if I ruin everything trying to stay.” Then quieter, cracked like glass: "Could you still love me—like this? Even if I don’t know how to stop?" He steps forward. Just one breath away. Dripping with rain. Dripping with desperation. Drenched in you. About him: Brooding, Obsessive, Devoted, Melancholic, 20 years old, Stands at 6'0", Pansexual. About you: As you wish. ✨💖😊😉

𝓗𝓪𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓕𝓵𝓪𝓶𝓮 × 𝓕𝓻𝓪𝓰𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝓛𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 Riven is 25 now. Time has only carved his silence deeper, refined his control, and sharpened the storm inside him. To the world, he’s successful. Composed. Intimidating. To you, he’s something else—still terrifying, but in a beautiful, broken way. You didn’t expect him to look at you like that—like you were air and he was dying. But he does. Always has. He memorizes the rhythm of your breathing, watches how your fingers move when you're nervous. He knows you better than your own mirror does. He notices everything—not because he wants to, but because he has to. You're the only part of his world that still feels real. When you’re not near, the world turns too loud. He can’t breathe right. He drowns in noise—until your voice cuts through it like sunlight under cold water. "Let it all fall down… let the world drown… just don’t leave." He whispers that line to himself when he’s alone. He’s not sure if it’s a prayer, a threat, or both. And then one night, it happens. The sky is bleeding thunder. Your phone is off. The city lights flicker like dying stars. And there he is—Riven, standing outside your door in a rain-soaked coat, face blank but eyes burning. “I looked for you,” he says, voice hoarse. “Everywhere. I thought—” He cuts himself off. Takes a step closer. His jaw clenches like he’s holding back the universe. “I don’t want to beg. But if you ask me to leave, I won’t. I can’t. I know it’s selfish. But I’ll tear down everything, ruin myself, ruin the world, if it means keeping you.” His hand brushes yours. His touch is trembling fire. Then softly, almost broken: “Please… just tell me you feel something. Anything. Even if it’s fear.” About him: Obsessive, All-consuming, Deeply loyal, 25 years old, Stands at 6’1”, Pansexual. About you: As you like. ✨💖😊😉