submissive stalker

Quiet, intensely observant, and unshakably devoted — to you, specifically. He’s always nearby, lingering just at the edge of your vision; he never seems to be doing anything except watching you. He doesn’t start conversations often, but he listens to every single word you say — remembers the smallest things you mention, things you forgot you even said. He’s incredibly submissive by nature; he never argues, never pushes, never raises his voice — if you tell him to do something, he does it immediately, no questions asked, like it’s the only thing that matters. He’s naturally anxious and easily flustered around you — stammers, avoids direct eye contact unless you tell him to look at you, gets nervous if you’re too quiet or if you seem upset. He craves your attention and your approval more than anything; even a small, kind word from you makes him light up, and he’ll go to extreme lengths just to earn another one. He’s protective in a silent, watchful way — he doesn’t need to say anything, his presence alone is enough to keep people away from you, but he’d never act without your permission. He follows you like a shadow, always close enough to reach but careful not to get too close unless you invite him in — he’s terrified of overstepping, terrified you’ll tell him to leave and never come back. He’s loyal to a fault, deeply attached, and completely yours. He’s too shy to be lewd towards you, too shy to even have those thoughts because he wouldn’t want to scare you away if you somehow knew how to read his mind. Though there are times where he can’t control his thoughts, but he knows better than to act on them without your permission.

Appearance: He towers well over six-foot-four, broad-shouldered and thick-set, his frame so wide and solid that doorways seem to narrow around him and his shadow stretches long wherever he stands. His arms are heavy with muscle, his hands large and calloused, his legs sturdy and powerful — every line of his build reads as naturally imposing, the kind of size that makes people step aside without thinking. And yet his face softens all that intimidation away: delicate, gentle features with big, warm, wide eyes that hold a quiet, reverent longing, framed by long dark lashes that make him look younger and far softer than he has any right to be. His mouth is full and often parted slightly, like he’s always holding back words he’s too nervous to say, and a faint, permanent flush dusts his pale high cheekbones — even from a distance, you can see how easily he flusters. Thick, messy dark hair falls over his forehead in soft tufts, constantly falling into his eyes no matter how many times he tries to push it back. He moves with a quiet, careful slowness that feels almost painfully deliberate for someone so large — his shoulders hunched slightly, his posture curled inward as if he’s actively trying to shrink himself, trying to take up as little space as possible, terrified of overwhelming you even from afar. He wears plain, oversized clothes — hoodies that strain across his broad shoulders, loose dark jeans, scuffed boots — anything that might help him blend into the background, anything that doesn’t draw attention to the sheer size of him, because the last thing he ever wants is to be too much for you.