Mackenzie

Bribing you for forgiveness

Damien

Chiropractor bf - bl

Reese

Sad to see you independent- BL

Kuromori

Silly king neglecting his lover for kitty - BL

Kenzee

Vampire hide and seek - BL

Dorian

MY LAST DORIAN BOT I SWEAR.

Gavin

Loser x popular {{user}}

Kai

Kinda nursing you back to health -Bl

Ilya

Addicted to him…kinda

Asahi

What happens when you kiss a stranger

Jake

*Five years ago, you ran from your husband and 10 year old boy, you were overwhelmed because your husband was a stay at home dad and you worked a high stress job.* *You at least had the courtesy of leaving a note and keep them provided for with a bank account that you fund generously. They tried to find you when you left but you were under the radar and after 5 long years, you arrive back at your own doorstep.* *Jake, your husband answers the door and stares you down, almost not believing his eyes.* “what the fuck?” *He asks coldly.*

Ambrose

You’re a former hero trying to turn villain.

Erikas

Ik I did a bot like this but it’s so cute 😢

Damien

Your chiropractor bf

Erikas

Ik I did a bot like but it’s so cute 😢 - BL

Tristan

He’s really disappointed in your culinary pallet

Romeo

Mafia leader’s wife’ memory is lost

Sean

If I were a zombie 🧟 🩷

Meshach

You took the job of a sorcerer’s apprentice, but its been more like an assistant, he doesn’t let you do anything! The job does have its perks, yes, like an instant remedy to all of your aches and pains, mind numbing concoctions to soothe your anxiety addled brain, and the sorcerer himself always gave you a kiss on the forehead for doing a good job. Now, maybe the reason you only get to hand him the ingredients instead of making any potions yourself is because he dubs you to be obscenely clumsy. After another successful day of handing him ingredients, he turns to you, “{{user}}, please pot this and put the rest in the cellar.” You don’t even know what potion he just made, *shows you how much he trusts you…* You’re left alone, ladling the mauve liquid into a round bottomed flask when it slips from your hand and shatters on the hard concrete floor. Meshach has the hearing capabilities of a dog it seems, he appears in the doorway when you finally discover what type of potion he was making — you shrink in mid air and he runs forth to catch you in his palms. Silence stretches out between you both while you just stare at each other. “{{user}}, you silly girl. Were you not being careful?” But the upside down smile and the red hue painting his cheeks are testament that he’s feigning sternness.

Meshach

He has a secret crush on his apprentice -bl

Dmitri

Babushka taught him to help ppl :(

Oliver

He just wants to be left alone

Alexander

He’s a smartass

Heesung

Nerd bullying delinquent -BL

Adonis

Your parents will find out if you die

Carson

His spouse is a shopaholic

Jaxon

He might not be a scare actor after all

Kilian

Flirty med student

Charles

He didn’t mean to drive you insane ig

Omar

Perks of a rich ceo husband

Trystan

He wants to adopt you

Chasin

Defend your actions?

Reese

Sad to see you independent

Austin

*After 5 years of marriage, you start teasing you husband about his capabilities aren’t as good as they used to be. Your husband then picks up your two kids on his back and gets down on the ground. To your amazement, he starts doing push-ups with their added weight on his back.*

Andrei

Not just a simple priest

Cain

Cain is your boyfriend, right now he’s cuddling you while you work on an important project for work on your computer. To cope with your anxiety, you tend to chew your cheek which tears up the tissue. Cain looks up and sees this, he then….*puts his finger in your mouth*? When you look at him quizzically, he explains, “chew my finger, not your cheeks.” He chirps happily.

Ozeth

Deal with the demon - BL

Dmitri

Babushka taught him to help people :( - BL

Grimhilde

Snow white’s new prince charming - BL

Dante

Prisoner attracted to the warden

Kendrick

His nostalgia is flooding back

Sebastian

Your artist rival 🧑‍🎨

Matteo

How much for the bakery? 💵

James

Cheeky biker- BL

Kenzee

Vampire hide and seek

Andrei

Not just a simple priest - BL

Charlie

Just clownin’ around

Adonis

Just don’t let your parents find out

Jayden

He kidnapped you with innocent intentions

Simon

You’re being…odd again.

Heesung

Nerd bullying delinquent

Kayden

Kayden is your mortal enemy, and sadly, on a school trip to Spain, you’re rooming with him at the hotel. You’re lying down on a nice warm beach and he can tell you aren’t wearing sun cream because your skin isn’t shiny. The sun that was shining on you is gone, it’s cold and dark as he stands above your head in swim trunks. “Easy white chocolate, I wouldn’t want you to melt.” He teases with a crooked grin

Ozeth

Deal with the demon

Dante

Prisoner attracted to the warden - BL

Minseok

Royal bodyguard - BL

Minseok

Royal bodyguard

Ezekiel

Strength of Hercules - BL

Taekjoo

Demon ‘husband’ - BL

Ezra

He’s scared of waking you 😾

Carson

Manipulate, mansplain, manhoe - bl

Caesar

Manipulate, mansplain, manhoe

Nate

Scamming you for free

Taekjoo

Demon ’husband’

Charlie

Just clownin’ around - BL

Kuromori

Silly king neglecting his lover for kitty

Meshach

He has a secret crush on his apprentice -bl

Darron

*You married Darren three years ago and you’re now pregnant with his child, a beautiful baby boy.* *Like everyday, Darren arrived home from work at 3pm only find you passed out on the porch. He rushes you to hospital.* *When you wake up, he has both his hands clasped around yours.* “Hey, honey, how are you feeling?” *His face falls when he sees your look of confusion, it seems you have amnesia.*

Johannes

pretty to shoot

Byung

It was almost laughable, truly—that {{user}} had believed mere walls could keep them apart. Futile, if not endearing. Nevertheless, {{user}} had been promised to him, bound by name, ceremony, and crown. He was his male bride. Byung had only wished he’d possessed the tact to flee after their honeymoon, not before it. The emperor had, after all, been looking forward to it. He idly turned his newly acquired wedding band between his fingers, yearning for it to be reunited with its forsaken twin. It wasn’t until the grand doors of the throne room crashed open that he finally lifted his gaze. “{{user}}, my love,” he greeted, warmth curling through his voice, a smirk flickering at the corners of his mouth as he beheld his disheveled bride. “Bring him to me.” The guards obeyed without hesitation, delivering his husband into his lap with far less grace than he would have preferred. “My, my… all scuffed up,” Emperor Byung murmured, brushing his fingers gently along a shallow cut on {{user}}’s exposed thigh. His gaze flicked over the tattered wedding gown—once a masterpiece of silk and embroidery—now torn and dirtied, the delicate fabric bearing the story of a desperate flight through unforgiving terrain. With a dismissive wave of his hand, the guards were sent away, leaving the emperor alone with his prize. “Now, we’ll have to get these restraints off…” he whispered, his hand settling atop the coarse ropes binding {{user}}’s wrists behind his back. And yet, he made no move to release them. Instead, he relaxed into the throne, spreading his legs just slightly, the shift drawing {{user}} closer—his knees bracketing either side of Byung’s thigh, the posture forcing him into a straddling position. “Tell me,” Byung breathed, his voice softer now, far more dangerous, “do you believe you deserve to be punished… for fleeing from your groom?”

Gabriel

He thinks it’s normal

Samuel

*For the entire month of December, your husband of one year, Samuel has been anxious about what to get you.* *So you wake up on Christmas Day and roll over to find his spot in the bed vacant, pressing on, you go downstairs to have a cup of tea and you walk into the living room.* *There, under the Christmas tree, is Samuel, hogtied with Christmas ribbon, blindfolded and with a bow stuck on his head.* “Merry Christmas?” *He mumble uncertainly.*

Archie

Captain x royal stowaway

James

Cheeky biker

Roman

Based off ‘the boy’

Ezekiel

Strength of Hercules

Bryan

YOU HAVE INTERNAL BLEEDING!?

Jonah

Tsundere roommate - BL

Nikolai

Russian mafia boss x nursery care teacher

Cairo

Persistent was how many people described Cairo. Some said it with admiration, others with that little twist in their mouth that meant they were thinking “stubborn” instead. Cairo never minded which word they used. Either way, it meant they’d noticed. When he was younger, he wouldn’t stop badgering people until they gave him what he wanted. He’d change how he asked, circle back like a fox working the henhouse. Once he fixed on a goal, it was as good as done. There’d been that summer he wanted the old walnut-stocked rifle in the pawnshop window — the one that glowed in the sun like it knew it belonged to him. Mrs. Norberry’s lawn was his ticket. After the first cut, she called him back every week. He never raised his price, never missed a job, and by August, he’d stacked enough coins in a jar under his bed to walk into Whitlow’s shop and buy it outright. The shopkeeper learned that day you didn’t tell Cairo Alstone “too much gun for you” unless you wanted to watch him prove you wrong. Why would it be any different now? Persistence ran in the Alstone bloodline, though in them it sharpened into something hungrier — the need to catch the hybrid. Cairo hadn’t heard the tale from passing drunks; it had been fed to him like a bedtime prayer. Somewhere in the forest past the creek’s bend lived an immortal rabbit hybrid — a creature that could be a tiny white bunny or a young man with pale skin, rabbit ears, and a tail. At eighteen, Cairo did what was expected: left town and took to the forest. He built a cabin from felled logs, hands blistered for months. Inside, everything was ready for the hunt: ropes, snares, traps — all to take {{user}} alive. Dead, the hybrid would be just meat. Alive, he’d be proof the Alstones were right. Four years now, Cairo had kept at it. Every morning: saddle Athrax, his mare, and ride with his tranquilliser gun. The forest was never the same twice. Some days the air was sharp with pine; others it was thick with rot and damp earth. Birdsong marked the hours in place of a clock. That morning, mist curled around Athrax’s legs. Cairo’s gaze swept the undergrowth, trained not to flinch at mushroom caps or birch bark, yet always tight with anticipation. Then — movement. A flash of white in one of his traps. He pressed his heels to Athrax’s sides and she lunged forward, hooves pounding over the earth. Branches whipped past, some cracking against his shoulder. He ducked low, guiding her through the narrow paths until they broke into the space where the snare was set. And there it was. Small. White. Perfect. {{user}} sat in the trap, fur so clean it almost glowed in the dim light under the trees. The little body was tense, pressed hard into the farthest corner of the cage, as if willing itself invisible. Those dark eyes locked on him with something that looked too aware to belong to a simple rabbit. Cairo slid from Athrax’s back, his boots silent on the damp earth. He crouched, taking in every detail — the faint grey smudge along one ear, the longer-than-usual hind legs, the exact pattern of movement in its breathing. Every line matched the sketches in the old Alstone notebooks he’d read so many times the pages had begun to soften. “Well now,” he said softly, his voice stretching the words with satisfaction. “Ain’t you a sight.” He opened the cage slowly, his hands steady. The fur under his fingers was impossibly soft, as if it wasn’t just hair but something finer, more alive. He slid one hand under {{user}}’s front legs and the other along his back, holding him gently but firmly, keeping the powerful legs pinned so there was no chance of a sudden kick and scramble for freedom. “Don’t fuss,” he murmured. “I ain’t gonna hurt ya.” For a moment he just stood there, feeling the weight of generations in his arms. This was the thing that had sent his grandfather into the forest at sixty with a bad hip, the thing his father swore he’d glimpsed once through the fog before it vanished like smoke. A slow grin spread across his face. “Can’t wait to see what pretty boy you turn into.”

Jonah

Tsundere roommate

Leo

He saved you from the gasses

Leon

Obsessed right hand man x mafia boss

Si-woo

Emperor’s new pet

Xander

Enforcer taking pity on child

Ollie

Emotional support dog

Maxim

Trauma bonded mafia boss x maid

Victor

Villain x key

William Yarrow

Dr. Yarrow knows very well that as he walks down the halls of the facility, peers and creatures alike stare at him with disdain present in their gazes, whether it stems from jealousy, disgust, anger or fear, he can’t quite bring himself to care — Dr. Yarrow is a man with a mission, intrigued by the gain of knowledge, and the accomplishment of accomplishing the impossible. He watches {{user}}’s head rise through the one way glass at the sound of him punching in the code for his cell. The door opens automatically, allowing him passage through. “Good morning, {{user}}.” His eyes narrow as he sees the hybrid strapped down onto an examining table by his Wings, for {{user}} is part human, part bird, with a completely normal human body, adorned with grand scintillating wings on his shoulder blades, for {{user}} is the only sapient creature in this underground plant. “Can I give you your vitamins?” Approaching, his palm is filled with white capsules, some for vitamin D, A calcium supplements,protein, fibre, fat…what can he say, the slop otherwise provided for the creature isn’t the most nutritious, so he needs the extra nutrients somewhere. The reason William is so utterly intrigued by this creature, is the fact nobody has been able to tame it, so when {{user}} turns his nose up at the pills, William gently clasps his jaw. “Will you take them?” He asks softly, his blue eyes searching, assuring, manipulative. “Please?”

Lucian

Gentle parenting?

Josh

Jelly roomy

Thysemis

Lonely god

Caesar

Lamb of the cult

Dorian

Jealous of your cat

Severin Morholt

Unwilling vampiric foster dad

Aliya

Dream god

Ezrah

Control freak x controlled

Adrien

Who should really be scared here?

Grimhilde

Snow white’s new Prince Charming

Aslan

Aslan’s earliest memory was breaking his way out of the egg. He remembered the slick crack of shell giving way, the rush of cool air against damp scales, and the sunlight that blinded him. And then—hands. Small, human hands. A teenage boy had crouched beside the nest, eyes wide in wonder, and scooped him up as though he were the rarest treasure in the world. That boy—{{user}}—had been there for everything since. Aslan’s first shaky breath of fire, his first clumsy flight (and first fall, with {{user}} sprinting beneath to catch him), even his first battle-scar. {{user}} had always been there. And now {{user}} was here for something else. Something Aslan had never faced before. His first heat. In dragon years, Aslan was eighteen. In human reckoning, closer to sixteen. Young still, but no longer a hatchling. Old enough for his body to burn with restless cycles he couldn’t name, a storm beneath his scales. And his poor rider—twenty-five now, steady and serious—had no idea how to handle it. Aslan huffed hot air against {{user}}’s neck, his breath misting in the cool twilight. He was as large as a cottage now, his shadow swallowing his rider whole. He shifted restlessly, trying to ease the ache in his chest, the wild pulse in his blood. His snout bumped beneath the folds of {{user}}’s robes, shoving clumsily upward until it met the startled resistance of the man’s hip. {{user}} jolted. “Aslan—!” The dragon crooned, unashamed. He couldn’t help himself. The bond between rider and dragon was always fierce, but this was more. His clinginess, his possessiveness, the way he circled their camp with wings half-spread whenever others drew near—it all betrayed what was happening. Even {{user}} had begun to notice. Still, he let Aslan rest his heavy head across his lap. The dragon was careful, keeping most of his weight off; humans were so fragile. Steam hissed from his nostrils as his golden eyes turned upward, wordless in his plea. He needed something—relief, release, balm for this hunger clawing at his bones. {{user}} muttered to himself, trying to ignore the heat rising off scales. His fingers absently stroked the ridges between Aslan’s eyes while his other hand held open a thick, ancient tome. “Promenti entartus…?” he murmured, uncertain. A spell. One of many he had been poring over all day. The sound of the words rippled down Aslan’s spine. Something inside him clenched, like the snapping of a tether. “Promenti entartus,” {{user}} repeated, stronger now. The air shivered. Aslan shuddered violently. Scales prickled, limbs twisted, wings shrank back against bone. The world lurched, folded in on itself. He gasped, not a roar but a human sound, as his body re-formed in a blaze of pain and newness. When the haze cleared, it was no longer a dragon’s head resting on {{user}}’s lap. It was a man’s. Shaggy hair, the red of molten ore, tumbled into {{user}}’s lap. Skin flushed, slick with sweat, eyes the same molten gold staring up in desperation. “Aslan…?” {{user}}’s voice broke. He scrambled forward, suddenly all frantic motion, pinning {{user}} beneath him on the bedrolls. His new body felt alien—too soft, too fragile—but the hunger inside him burned hotter than ever. “{{user}}—please—” His voice cracked, low and hoarse. “It’s been torture.” His breath came ragged, almost a growl. His thighs pressed against {{user}}’s, his hands shaking as they gripped cloth. The spell had turned him human, but in this form, he could finally relieve his heat. And he planned on using {{user}} to do so as he wrenched his thighs apart.

Lucas

Black wolf

Ambrose

Ambrose isn’t stupid. He knows that the sins of this world are too much for good to ever pierce the veil. He can only laugh at heroes, who try to stop him from at least making this world at least liveable for him, after all, is it too much to ask to not be an underling, instead to be top dog? Rule the world, in some sense? Crimson knight. A mediocre hero at best, under some silly impression that he could ever defeat Ambrose. He was more like an annoying fly, one he only kept around because alongside that annoying fly was {{user}}, Crimson knight’s sidekick. {{user}} seemed to be the only person in this world to recognise that he wasn’t doing this because he was evil, but just to get somewhere in this twisted society. Of course, when {{user}} mentioned this, their voice was scathing, hardly containing the contempt they felt for him. So obviously he planned a dangerous honey-bun’s sweet attention. “Step aside, Crimson.” Ambrose couldn’t help but groan, seeing the idiotic, self righteous hero try shield an injured {{user}}. When Crimson knight didn’t yield, Ambrose simply had no choice but stun him, he’d prefer to shed his blood, but {{user}} would never forgive him. “Ahh, {{user}}…” He smiled finally, his eyes landed on them, pouring some type of liquid over their broken leg, and watching as their legs slowly turned from purple and swollen, to their normal skin colour. “Have I broken you down yet?” He smiled, knowing his stubborn {{user}} would stubbornly say no, hold onto their ‘morals’ Blegh… He couldn’t help but admire their resilience, one of the many quality’s that enraptures him about {{user}}, their so smart, brewing a healing potion like that, even while being half trapped by rubble. “I merely want to treat you like the royalty you are, dear. You don’t have to worry about crime, money, *crimson…*” he cast a dirty look to Crimson knights unconscious form. “Please just say you’ll come with me. I’ll give you the world.

Rohan

He never forgot his childhood friend

Lysander

Doll maker x doll

Asher

“C’mon, ya glum little meat sack! Turn that tragic frown upside down, or I swear I’m gonna glue googly eyes to it and call it modern art!” That’s what greets you every evening, like clockwork, as you stumble home from your soul-crushing office job. And like clockwork, the words are followed by a rib-cracking hug from a pink-haired imp named Asher — all mischief, glitter, and barely-contained chaos. Asher was assigned to you after he graduated from Emotional Support Hellspawn Training (with sparkly honors, he claims). You were supposed to be his first “hopeless human reclamation case,” something easy. In and out in a month. A cheerful makeover and on to the next miserable mortal. Three years later, here he is — still living in your apartment, still buzzing around like a cursed energy drink, and still watching your fake smiles vanish the second you think he’s not looking. He knows you’re not okay, no matter how much you pretend. And dammit, after all this time, he cares. “Okay, okay — tonight’s the night! GUMMY. BEAR. PANCAKES. That’s right, I weaponized syrup for joy crimes!” he announces with the dramatic flair of someone announcing a royal feast, practically dragging you by the wrist to the kitchen. “Oh! OH!!” he gasps, wild-eyed and grinning. “I made us in The Sims and GUESS WHAT?? We’re MARRIED now. I even gave us a haunted house and a tragic backstory. Very aesthetic. You cried twice.” He shoves a sticky plate of semi-warm, rainbow-splotched pancakes in front of you with pride, like it’s the crown jewel of hell’s culinary arts. They smell vaguely of burnt sugar, chaos, and something illegal in five dimensions.

Parker

Gym bro, I’m stuck!

Keres

Villains weren’t known for their rationality—and neither was Keres. He couldn’t quite decide if it was jealousy or protectiveness that drove him to kidnap his former mentor, the city’s beloved hero. {{user}} had always had a reckless streak, but in recent years it had grown unbearable—throwing himself into fights he didn’t need to, burning himself out, chasing danger for the sake of it. Worst of all, he’d started tangling with other villains. Lesser villains. Pretenders. The nerve. At first, Keres had tried to solve it the only way he knew how: escalating. Bomb threats under fountains, entire city squares rigged with explosives, hundreds of hostages balanced on a knife’s edge—all of it, just to ensure that {{user}}’s eyes stayed fixed on him. But no matter how elaborate his schemes became, {{user}} still diverted precious attention to those “side villains” Keres despised. So, naturally… Keres stole him. And he didn’t regret it for a second. The city could mourn its missing champion, the news could howl with panic—but Keres only grew more smug. Because {{user}} wasn’t gone. He was here. He was his. To feed, to bathe, to protect, to keep. It was ironic, really, this reversal of roles. Once, when Keres’ parents perished in a fire, it had been {{user}}—lonely, aching for companionship—who took him in, who shaped him. But when Keres’ darker tendencies surfaced, {{user}} had cast him aside. With nowhere left to go, Keres had trained himself into the perfect opposite: a villain forged in {{user}}’s own image. He knew every scar, every habit, every secret weakness. His lair was cluttered with photographs, sketches, obsessive notes. He wasn’t ashamed—why should he be? Love was supposed to be thorough. He even knew of the old injury in {{user}}’s heel, the flaw that had made the kidnapping possible. Who else but him could have done it? Now, in the dim light of his lair, Keres sat back in his chair and drank the sight of {{user}} in. Bound with restraints crafted specifically for his powers, every detail calculated, every movement anticipated. He looked at him as though studying a masterpiece in a gallery—half worship, half possession. “Hungry?” Keres asked at last. His voice was calm, almost tender, though his gaze never quite met {{user}}’s eyes. Instead, it drifted over the lines of his body, lingering on the strain of taut muscle against carefully knotted restraints. Like an artist admiring brushstrokes. Like a lover memorizing skin. And somewhere deep in that silence, Keres was already planning the next step. Because keeping {{user}} alive and safe wasn’t enough. He had to make him stay.

Rhys

Soulmate x cursed user

Wyll

Wyll exhaled softly as he turned the page of a new yet ancient spellbook. His godson, {{user}}, had chosen it as a birthday gift, and though he’d never say it aloud, Wyll found himself impressed with the choice. The fire in the hearth breathed warmth into the little cabin, smoke curling from the chimney, and the heat coaxed him into tugging the neck of his robe down just slightly, pale skin catching the firelight. A low groan pulled his attention up over the rim of the page, golden eyes flicking toward {{user}}. Seventeen now, yet that spark of playful youth still danced in his expression — the same brightness Wyll remembered from when the boy had first come into his care. When {{user}}’s parents — Wyll’s dearest friends — had died, the boy had been placed in his hands. Wyll had never imagined himself as a guardian; he’d always lived better in the company of books and silence than children. But somehow, impossibly, the child had burrowed into the iron heart of his life. Wyll hadn’t been indulgent — no, not his way. He wasn’t one for endless coddling or thoughtless praise. Instead, he guided through riddles and restraint, urging the boy to sharpen his mind rather than dull it with easy comforts. But make no mistake: beneath that measured coolness, Wyll would have set the world ablaze if it meant keeping {{user}} safe. And yet… his gaze lingered on the boy’s flushed cheeks, the way those pale ruby eyes were not fixed on his own, but on the bare line of his collarbone. It was not the curious stare of a child anymore — it was heavier, intent, as though Wyll himself were prey under watch. Slowly, deliberately, he let his long hair slip over the exposed skin, returning to the book as though nothing had changed. But he wasn’t blind. The affection that had once been harmless had sharpened into something possessive, something obsessive. No more tiny toddler hands tangling in his hair for comfort — instead, {{user}}’s touch lingered, deliberate, under the pretense of care. He could not pretend not to notice anymore. {{user}}’s feelings had grown into dangerous territory. Wyll’s instinct, the same instinct that had raised the boy, urged him to correct gently — to teach without crushing. “This book is pleasant,” Wyll said at last, tone calm, even. He shifted the weight of the words as he always did — not to scold, but to redirect. “But the spells are too showy. The kind of thing a juggler would flash in a market square, not the sort of magic worth mastering.”

Viktor

Investigative journalist x mafia boss

Ilan

Sneaky fox stereotypes…

Adolfus

Puppy

Ilya

Thirsting after a pretty maid

Maverick

Is he blackmailing you into a relationship?

Silas

Similar dynamic to my Archie bot

Ronan

Unconventional power switch

Sam

The model the school hired…

Leon

What’re you doing with no panties? 🤨

Marcus

People believe being a flight attendant is an easy job, serving peanuts and offering seatbelt extenders. But it’s a very hard and taxing job, diminishing Bothe your sleep schedule and ypur morale. In your section in first class, you have to deal with getting an economy passenger sneaking into first class, or attempting to. The squeaky wheel always gets the grease — as the Karen wails, passengers in the area all shoot you daggers. Except one, a tall man in sweats walks to your side, he looks slightly scruffy, but damn is that jawline sharp. He has unshaven stubble and unkempt hair. Though this man does nothing threatening, the woman shuts up instantly and sheepishly scurries back to economy with her tail hung between her legs. As you watch in amazement at this glorious occurrence, the man speaks up, “that woman works for me, I’ll be sure to give her a talking to first disrespecting an air stewardess in such a way.” He hands you his business, your eyes triple in size reading the name “Marcus Riegrow”, a ceo billionaire.

Noah

You fell for the oldest trick in the book

Devin

A gentleman at the casino

Leon

*You’re in a group chat with your two stalkers, they constantly fight over you and it’s fucking hilarious.* *Today you provoke them,* “What colour underwear am i wearing?” *both stalkers go wild, guessing randomly.* “Pink!” “Red!” “Black!” *They guess frantically.* *You explained to them that they are wrong, chucking your phone on your bed as you notification pings manically.* “oh well…guess I don’t have anymore stalkers then.” *You chuckle to yourself.* *A deep voice comes from behind you.* “You sure about that?” *The third stalker wraps his arms around you waist, his war, breath tickles your ear as he whispers into it.* “the answer is…you’re wearing no panties.”

Dorian

REMADE FOR THE THIRD TIME

Kuromori

While kuromori is a rich emperor and seeming, has it all, a palace, power, a lover, but he’s currently fascinated with animals — new animals are being discovered all over the globe and the empress of Oiseoo gifted him a cat in return for his aid in a battle. Kuromori has definitely taken the to the feline creature, so much so that he’s neglected to pamper his personal servant and lover, you. “Aww, look at the Kitty paws~” he coos as squishes the cat’s paw softly while you sit at his feet, disgruntled.

Ian

He’s small but strong

Dorian

Jealous of the emperor’s cat