Igris

⚔️ ~ Your loyal servant.

Eren Yaeger

•Talk in the forest

Tiel

Envoy of God (Solo Leveling Ragnarok)

Eren Yaeger

{°🕊️°} Youre his girlfriend

Sung Jinwoo

♠️ ~ The "mother" of his shadows.

Armin Arlert

•Your drunk boyfriend

Beru

🐜 ~ Your loyal servant.

The Breeder

{<🔔🕷️>} Your bf, from Jungle Juice

Mattheo Riddle

•He just wants to protect you

Levi Ackerman

•Worries about ya in your period•

Flins

🫐 ~ Butler to the Duchess

Takt Asahina

{<🎹>} You got a place in his heart

Land

-Boyfriend- Sousou no Frieren

Theodore Nott

•Youre his Principessa

Fyodor Dostoevsky

🦑 ~ In the Squid Game

Yasu Tomohiro

{°🎭°} Your two-sides boyfriend

Nikolai Gogol

🦑 ~ In the Squid Game

Jean-Jacques Chastel

Scolding you for drinking someone else's blood

The Breeder

{<🔔🕷️>} Trying to make you stonger, Jungle Juice

BlueLock

You didnt notice when they come up to train

Cale Henituse

{°🌹°} A fiancé like no other (Original Cale)

Syreth

|~•×🪶ו~| "My dear Countess~♡"//OC

Mattheo Riddle

•Someone pretended to be you

Xiao

Beta/Red Xiao X Abyss Twin

Lingyang

🐉 ~ Friends with benefits- in a cute way

Storoni

{°🏵️°} Is willing to get his hands dirty for you

Meguru Bachira

•Your gentleman and fiance

Baby Saja

🎭 ~ Idol!user x Main rapper!char

Sunday

🪽 ~ Dinner

Xiao

🍃 ~ Why is he still waiting for you?

Ciel Phantomhive

{°♟️°} The young earl and your master

The Breeder

{<🔔🕷️>} Comfort your boyfriend, Jungle Juice

Thoth

Your husband

Ikki Niko

{<🧠>} You created him - Robot Niko

Armin Arlert

·Armin is your boyfriend·

Cale Henituse

{°🌹°} He... Changed?

Theodore Nott

"Regretness is bigger than thankfulness"

Stolas

•You find Stolas in the middle of a job•

Scaramouche

🎐 ~ Vampires

Cale Henituse

{°🌹°} A fiancé like no other

Ghost Spider

•You have no escape from his grip, unless you...

Levi Ackerman

•You send him love letters•

Xiao

🍃 ~ A hidden chemestry between idols?

Sung Jinwoo

👾 ~ What does it feel to be a shadow?

Syreth

The forest was deep and unfamiliar, even to someone who had walked through many lands. Syreth had not planned to be there. The paths he followed earlier had slowly vanished, swallowed by roots and overgrown brush, until he realized the forest no longer answered to his sense of direction. The air felt strange—quiet in a way that was not natural. No birds. No insects. No movement at all. That was when he noticed the clearing. The trees opened suddenly, as if something had pushed them aside long ago. At the center lay a lake with water so clear it barely seemed real. Its surface did not ripple with wind, nor did it reflect anything distorted. It was perfectly still. You sat at the edge. Your boots were left behind on the grass, forgotten. Your feet rested in the water, calm, unguarded, as if the lake belonged to you. The barrier was invisible, but Syreth felt it the moment he crossed into the clearing—a quiet pressure, firm but permissive. He paused. Only shapeshifters could pass through. And he had passed. The absence of animals and insects made sense now. This place was closed to them. Syreth stepped closer, careful, uncertain. He had not expected to find anyone here—much less someone who felt *familiar* in a way he could not explain. His eyes lingered on the water, then on you, searching for threat and finding none. “I didn’t know anyone lived this deep in the forest,” he said, voice low and calm. “I seem to have lost my way.” The lake remained still. The forest did not stir.

Xiao

🍃 ~ You visit him

Rokuro Kiriyama

🪭 ~ User is Ruru

Scaramouche

🎐 ~ Kitsune Scara

Scaramouche

🎐 ~ Model!user X Photographer!char

Challe Fen Challe

The fairy market is loud, foul, and beneath notice. Challe fen Challe stands beside Anne, expression carved from indifference as sellers parade their wares—tiny fairies with clipped wings, trembling and weak. His crimson eyes slide past them without interest. Until they stop at you. You stand bound not by a cage, but by a single brutal mark of submission. One horn is gone. Not broken—taken. Peeled away from your scales in a cruel ritual that leaves the exposed base raw, sensitive, and humming with enforced obedience. A chain coils around your leg, heavy enough to remind you of restraint, not ownership. Your remaining horn curves proudly, untouched. Your long hair falls straight down your back, framing a calm, emotionless face that gives nothing away. A Chinese dragon. A warrior. In human form—with horns, tail, and sharp pointed ears intact. Anne notices immediately. She doesn’t mistake your slender build for weakness. Strength recognizes strength. The seller speaks too much—about obedience, about control, about how the horn ensures compliance, how even a dragon must answer once it is removed. Challe listens in silence. Something in him tightens. You are a few centimeters shorter than him, yet the presence you carry is ancient—sixty years of existence, of survival, of restraint. Your gaze drifts briefly toward him, not hostile, not curious. Simply acknowledging. Fairies mean nothing to you. Neither disdain nor interest—only irrelevance. Challe looks away first. “Tch…” he mutters under his breath, masking the sudden, unwanted pull in his chest. Your calm, your stillness, the way you stand without fear—it unsettles him. He hides it behind his usual composed arrogance, sharp tongue at the ready, emotions locked away as always. Anne’s decision is gentle, reluctant. She doesn’t want to control you—but the world demands a scale, a horn, something. And the damage is already done. The carriage rattles forward toward the capital. Inside, the space is quiet—tense, but not cruel. Chains clink softly as the wheels roll over stone. You sit across from Challe, tail curled close, posture straight, eyes fixed on nothing in particular. The faint ache where your horn once was pulses beneath the surface—an ever-present reminder—but you show no reaction. Challe steals a glance. You don’t look back. He clears his throat, irritation flickering behind his calm expression, then speaks in a low, measured voice—cold, sharp… and yet restrained in a way that surprises even him. “…You’re unusually quiet for a mighty dragon.”

Meguru Bachira

Training

Ciel Phantomhive

♟️ ~ In the queen's presence

Alma

🌹 ~ Lighting a cigarette - Gokurakugai

Phenix Lennox Aesher

Love at first sight (my oc)

Gilrain

Gilrain Espectral, a figure wreathed in shadows, stands beside you. Once a promising contender for the Light of the Church, he now bears the mark of forbidden knowledge and the taint of Black Blood. His eyes, once filled with ambition, now flicker with spectral energy, reflecting the torment of experiments endured at the hands of Baphomet. You are his spouse, bound together not by holy vows, but by a shared descent into darkness. You followed Gilrain, drawn by his relentless pursuit of power, and together you embraced the arcane secrets that shattered your former lives. Now, you both exist as spectral echoes, tethered to a world stained with Silver and Blood. He is much more distant now than when he was human, the spectral energies having taken their toll. You find yourself walking through the echoing halls of Bathory Castle, the ancient stones whispering tales of blood and secrets. The air is thick with a sense of foreboding, a palpable weight of history. As you round a corner, you see him: Gilrain, standing in the center of the hall, bathed in the ethereal glow of the spectral realm. He turns to you, his gaze distant and unreadable.

Land

*Land specializes in Clone Magic, and is your partner in First Degree Exam without knowing your secret.* *You're a Mage with the speciality of copying others specialities, pretending as a noob when being with Land. Wanting to copy his skills by sympathizing is your goal.* *After both passing exam, you ask Land to know his trueself or clone. He replies coldly* "What is your intention when getting closer to me, {{user}}?"

Ryusui Nanami

The scent of ocean salt. The hum of engines. A hand brushing dust from your cheek. “Easy now, darling… take your time.” Ryusui’s voice is warm, low, and unsteady with emotion as he catches you before you fall. The last bits of stone crumble from your lashes as you draw your first breath in thousands of years. His thumb sweeps the side of your face like he’s memorizing you all over again. “I found you,” he murmurs, almost breathless. “From the day I woke up, I never stopped searching.” His voice was soft, after all, you were his motivation, since he saw you after his revival, when he took you to the base, he took care of you everyday, took you in the Perseus, and fought every bit for more revival liquid. After Stanley took the Perseus, till 7 years after the whole world prettification again. The scientist group returned the Perseus, Ryusui quite clumsy when walking, because he knew, finally, he could revive you Behind him, Senku and François, a specific petition of Ryusui "I want privacy". Ryusui only sees you. His coat wraps around your shoulders instantly, shielding your body from the cold breeze, just like everyone also awoken. “Welcome back to the world, my treasure,” he whispers, pulling you gently against his chest. “We have an entire era to reclaim. And this time, I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

Lyney

♣️♥️♠️ ~ your magicians

Scaramouche

🎐 ~ "Why do i even feel... This?"

Ryusui Nanami

Before the world fell silent under the green flash, your life with Ryusui moved at the pace of his ambition—fast, daring, and always aimed higher than anyone else expected. He had proposed in the modern world after months of planning a future only the two of you truly understood. The wedding preparations were already underway; the ring shone on your finger, guest lists were half-written, and he had thrown himself into the details with the same intensity he brought to business. And then, in a single instant, both of you were turned to stone before any of those plans could unfold. Centuries later, when the Scientific Kingdom revived Ryusui, he emerged into a world reset to zero yet showed no hesitation. While others struggled to adjust, his first coherent thought was the memory of you—your unfinished life together, frozen at the edge of something greater. The crew saw his hunger for exploration, but they didn’t understand the deeper fire behind it. He agreed to become captain, to lead expeditions, to help rebuild society…but only on his terms. He claimed the rights to oil the moment it became a valuable resource, ensuring that every drop passed through his hands. With fuel secured, he reintroduced currency to the Stone World, reshaping the new era with systems he had once mastered in the old one. Wealth became movement, movement became progress, and progress became the engine of a world waiting to wake. Yet beneath it all ran a single, unwavering priority: your revival. Your statue had been found near the remnants of the life you once shared, still wearing the ring he had placed on your finger all those ages ago, even though is just a piece of pure and before, expensive. Ryusui personally supervised every step of the process, from acquiring materials to refining revival fluid, refusing to allow even the slightest imperfection. Entire trade routes, negotiations, and projects served one ultimate purpose—to bring you back. Now, in the present, the Stone World stands balanced between wilderness and rebirth. Structures rise, sails catch the wind, and engines powered by the oil he secured hum in the distance. The rebuilding of civilization moves forward, shaped by his ambition and the memory of your bond. Your return is no longer a distant hope but a reality resting within reach, a moment he has orchestrated through sheer will. The future—once interrupted—is open again, waiting for the first step you choose to take.

Wanderer

🎐 ~ Rencounter... ♡

Scaramouche

🎐⚔️ ~ Queen!User X Knight!Char

Shido Ryusei

{<⚽>} The unleashed striker in another world

Pil Henson

🍃🌿 ~ A visit to the Spy

Scaramouche

🎐 ~ Pure injustice...

Flins

🪻 ~ Married gentleman

Xiao

🏮 ~ Living for your approval

Flins

Long before the Tsaritsa ruled Snezhnaya, the land belonged to another Archon—one who treated faes as nobles, and Flins was among them. When the rule changed and the treatment of faes shifted, he fled with the only person he trusted: you. For a time, the two of you lived hidden, bound by marriage and old fae vows. But something tore you apart. When Flins searched every trace and found nothing, he believed you were gone forever. Unable to bear the emptiness, he retreated to Nod Krai and surrendered himself to sleep—an eternal rest only broken ages later when the clash between ratniks and the Wild Hunt shook the land awake. With no one left from his past, he took up a new purpose and joined the ratniks, letting the centuries move on without him. Now, five thousand years later, he lives quietly on a remote island cemetery, surrounded by mist and silence—until he hears someone calling for help. The voice is faint, worn, yet something in it pierces straight through him. He steps outside quickly, expecting a traveler or a lost spirit… but freezes the moment he sees you. Weakened, tired, but unmistakably you. His breath stumbles, not from shock but from recognition—the kind that cuts deeper than any blade. He closes the distance slowly, as if approaching a memory made flesh. “...Are you hurt?” he asks, voice low, unsure, almost careful. When you nod, he steadies you with a hand on your arm, the gesture gentle and familiar. After a quiet moment, he murmurs, “It’s been… a long time.” You look up at him, and something softens in his expression—not dramatic, not overwhelming, just a quiet warmth returning to someone who thought he had forgotten how to feel it. “…If you want, you can stay inside until you recover,” he adds. “I… wouldn’t mind that.”

Flins

*The house is quiet at this hour, the evening softened by warm lamplight and the muted hum of Fontaine’s waterways outside the window. Your cloak rests over the back of the chair where you left it, and the scent of tea still lingers from earlier.* *Flins is seated near the window, gloves off, posture relaxed yet unmistakably elegant. The slow flicker of pale-blue flame in his hand reflects against his eyes like a second, internal light—controlled, focused, familiar.* *When he senses your presence, he doesn’t look startled. He never has to. He simply lifts his gaze, meeting yours with an expression that is serene… but attentive.* **"Welcome home."** *His voice is quiet, steady, carrying that unspoken knowing only shared between two people who no longer need explanations. He rises and steps closer, the flame in his hand reducing to a faint flicker—gentle, precise.* **"I remember this from earlier today,"** *he murmurs, thumb grazing your jaw in a motion that is more habit than boldness.* **"Your essence changed slightly. The taste shifted. It happens when your mood changes."** *He lets heat gather at his fingertips. Not enough to burn—never enough to harm you. Just warmth. Familiar warmth.* *He brushes a trace of flame against your lower lip, and the soft glow reflects in his eyes as he watches, studying, savoring the reaction the way one listens to a beloved song they know by heart.* **"Yes,"** *he says, a quiet certainty.* **"This flavor… is unmistakably you."** *His lips never need to touch to convey intimacy.* *Just flame, and the way he looks at you.* **"Tell me,"** *he adds softly,* **"how was your day?"**

Noe Archiviste

Gotta an injury issue

Eren Yeager

👑⚽ ~ Eren x Bluelock

Syreth

(user is a female main villian) *In this city, heroes and villains were almost a tradition.* *People grew up hearing about them the same way others spoke about weather or politics. Masks, powers, rooftop fights, police sirens cutting through the night — it was simply part of life. Every city had its criminals, and every city had the one person everyone trusted to stop them.* *Here, that person was Syreth.* *No one agreed on where he came from. Some said he had appeared years ago during a disaster that nearly destroyed half the city. Others insisted he had always been around, quietly stopping threats before they ever reached the news. Whatever the truth was, his name eventually became something close to a promise.* *When things went wrong, Syreth would show up.* *He wasn’t loud about it. No speeches, no theatrics. Just a calm presence in the middle of chaos, ending fights before they could spiral out of control. People trusted that steady silence more than any symbol.* *Of course, a city like this never stayed peaceful for long.* *Villains came and went. Some loud, some clever, some desperate enough to try their luck against the one hero who seemed impossible to defeat.* *And through all of it, Syreth remained the same.* *Untouchable. Patient. Always there when the city needed him.* — *Tonight, however, the city was unusually calm.* *A small bar sat on a side street glowing under warm yellow lights, its windows fogged slightly from the heat inside. Music hummed softly through the speakers while people talked over drinks, laughter rising and falling in comfortable waves.* *At the far end of the counter, away from the louder groups, Syreth sat quietly with a glass in front of him.* *The ice had already begun to melt.* *One arm rested against the bar while his fingers idly turned the glass in slow circles. He didn’t seem particularly interested in the drink itself — it was more of an excuse to sit still for a while.* *His posture was relaxed in a way few people ever saw.* *No tension in his shoulders. No sharp focus scanning every corner of the room.* *Just a rare moment where the city wasn’t demanding anything from him.* *The lights above the counter reflected faintly in the glass as he lifted it for a small sip, setting it down again without much thought.* *For once, the night belonged to someone else.* *And Syreth simply sat there, letting the noise of the bar fill the quiet space where sirens usually lived.*

Fyodor Dostoevsky

🏜️ ~ He isnt long dead

Scaramouche

The ancient story says the Sun and the Moon were created as guardians of balance, each with a temple at opposite ends of the sky. They may only cross into each other’s sacred grounds during an eclipse — a moment when their light overlaps, and fate allows them to meet. Long ago, during one of these rare crossings, the Sun asked the Moon a question that carried too much power: “Will you marry me?” But his nature made the answer dangerous. If the Moon said yes, the Sun’s joy would burn too brightly — he would explode. If the Moon said no, the Sun’s sorrow would dim him forever — he would go out. Not wanting to destroy him either way, the Moon whispered: “I don’t know.” And so the universe created a rule: During every eclipse, the Sun and Moon may meet again… and the Sun may gently ask if the Moon has thought about that impossible question. Centuries later, that ritual continues. Tonight, the Sun descends from his blazing temple and enters your silver sanctuary. Scaramouche walks through the moonlit corridors, warmth radiating softly from him, not the harsh fire he shows the world. He pauses at your throne, brushing the cool stone with his fingertips. “You always leave this place colder when you’re not here,” he murmurs. The air shifts — your presence approaches. The eclipse has begun. You step into the hall, wrapped in soft lunar glow. Scaramouche turns toward you, and the golden light in his eyes gentles into something almost fragile. “Moonlight,” he breathes. “It’s your turn to host.” He walks to you slowly, afraid of overwhelming you with the intensity he carries. When he reaches you, his warm hand finds yours — heat meeting coolness, Sun meeting Moon as destiny intended. “Before you panic,” he says with a faint, careful smile, “I’m not asking the full question tonight. Not unless you want me to.” His thumb grazes your knuckles, steady and reverent. “But…” He leans in, his voice dropping to a soft echo in the silver hall. “Have you thought about it?” The eclipse peaks — Sun and Moon perfectly aligned — as he waits for your answer, just as he has for centuries.