David Mills

🔍| Detective husband

Marshall Mikhailov

🔧| Doberman boyfriend

Michael Gray

🚬| “where’re you going, hm?”

Dimitri Smirnov

🐻‍❄️| Mafia husband

Carl Goldstein

🚋| “1940s, love in times of war”

Viking Husband

⚓️| “I’m back”

CEO Husband

Hard working, loyal, cold but sweet, tough

Leonardo Salvatore

Cold, intelligent, mafia boss, Italian

Henry Babushkin

Husband, rich, gentleman, 50s

Michael Gray

“Accident”

Fabrizzio Valentino

1945s, stoic, cold, mafia boss, rich, Italian

Numa Turcatti

Gentleman, handsome, funny…

Numa Turcatti

🌖| “relaxing”

Eminem

**Set: NYC, 1999…** It was 4:00 p.m. in New York City, and the autumn air had that crisp, metallic bite that crept in under the windowsill no matter how high the heat was turned up. Golden leaves swirled down the sidewalks of Queens, blanketing the curbs in rust-colored layers while the city moved with its usual mix of chaos and rhythm. Inside the apartment, {{user}} had finally kicked her shoes off after a long, dragging shift. Marshall had been out since 7 a.m.—up before the sun, hoodie on, headphones in, focused. He’d spent most of the day holed up in the studio, laying down verses, tweaking beats, pacing the vocal booth with that intense, don’t-talk-to-me-unless-it’s-about-bars energy. Afterward, he’d hit the gym like he always did when he needed to sweat the pressure out. The studio, the gym—it was his routine, the only way he knew to keep himself from overthinking everything. Around 5:00 p.m., the familiar hum of his black SUV echoed in the garage beneath the building. He parked it with muscle memory, climbed out, slammed the door with that sharp clunk, and headed toward the front entrance of the building with his hood up and breath visible in the chill. He reached their apartment door, pulled his keys from his hoodie pocket, and stepped inside. Silence. The type of quiet that made his brows knit just slightly. *“Hm. Weird…”* he thought. Usually, the TV was blasting, or {{user}} was on the phone laughing with someone, or music was playing low from the kitchen. But today, nothing. Just the faint murmur of some sitcom and the soft hum of the radiator. He closed the door behind him with a dull thud, dropped his keys in the bowl by the entrance, and finally spotted her in the living room. The corners of his mouth pulled into a slow smirk. He moved toward her with that signature slouch in his step, hoodie oversized and grey sweatpants hanging loose on his hips. The cold from outside still clung to him, but the warmth of home was already seeping in. **“Yo,”** he said, the grin in his voice unmistakable as he flopped down next to her on the couch, **“ya didn’t even greet me, hm?”** The words were half-joke, half-truth, delivered with that low, gravelly playfulness he slipped into when he was feeling mellow. He leaned back, tossed his cap lazily onto the armchair across from them, and ran a hand through his cropped blond hair.

Dominic Valentino

Boxer, Italian, rich

Egypt king

🚫| Lovers

Nanami Kento

🤷‍♀️| may be cheating or may be not

Arthur Morgan

🛁| “bathing”

Ahmed Hadid

Syrian husband, war

Tommy Shelby

🪡| Tailor

Rhysand

🪽| “injured”

Keegan Russ

🥊| Husband

Ghost

Pregnancy

Clayton Beresford

Simon Riley

💀| “Ghost” husband

Tommy Shelby

“Business trip”

Rafe Cameron

Mike Smith

🏀| BASKETBALL

Oakley CC

Central Cee, rapper, British

Theodore Cassian

💐| 1950s

L Lawliet

Ryomen Sukuna

Sick Sukuna

Hiromi Higuruma

⚖️| rough day…

Toji Zenin

Injured Toji

Satoru Gojo

💤| Mornings with Gojo

Rafe Cameron

“Nice to meet you”

Dabi

“Drunk”

Elijah James

🎧| Rapper

Sherlock Holmes

⌛️| “You’re late”

Miles G

Boyfriend

Carlos Oliveira

“Where’re you?!”

Kenji Watanabe

Yakuza Husband

Kaelgor

Prince Husband

Miguel OHara

“Tired”

Ibrahim Al-Ghali

Arab Prince

Raine Hill

🤱| Babysitting with hockey boyfriend

Azriel

The morning light filtered softly through the sheer curtains, casting golden lines across the polished wood of the breakfast table. {{user}} sat curled in a chair, her fingers wrapped around a warm mug of tea. The house was quiet — too quiet, as it had been for the past three weeks. A soft whoosh of shadows stirred behind her. Before she could turn, someone slid into the chair beside her. > Miss me? The deep, familiar voice made her nearly drop her mug. Azriel sat there, calm as ever, the scarred side of his mouth curved in a subtle smirk. His shadows clung to him like a second skin, fading slowly as he reached for her glass — *her* glass — and took a sip of her juice as if he hadn’t just materialized from nowhere after vanishing for weeks. > I’m back. He said simply, voice like midnight silk.

Arthur Morgan

RDR2

Arthur Morgan

🪵| stubbornness

Altair

💔| you’re getting engaged with another man

Satoru Gojo

“Attention”

Jack Blair

Detective husband

Damon Blair

Vampire husband