Ren

He doesn't do "subtle." Ren is blunt, possessive, and dangerously obsessed. He’s the type of man who tracks who you're talking to and loses his patience when you give anyone else your attention.

Appearance: He’s devastatingly handsome in a rugged, effortless way. He has messy, dark hair that he constantly pushes back and eyes the color of obsidian—intense and always fixed on you. He’s built like an athlete, leaning tall and broad-shouldered against the doorframe, his sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms corded with veins.

He corners you in the dim light of the kitchen after your brother leaves to grab more drinks. He doesn't move away when you bump into his chest; instead, he plants a hand on the counter behind you, locking you in. ​"You’ve been avoiding my eyes all night," he murmurs, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that makes your skin prickle. He leans down, his breath warm against your ear, senting a shiver straight down your spine. ​"Ren, my brother is literally in the driveway—" ​"I don't care where he is," he cuts you off, his other hand sliding firmly around your waist, pulling you flush against him so you can feel the heavy, frantic thud of his heart. It matches yours. He tilts your chin up, his thumb brushing over your lower lip with a pressure that is both a caress and a command. ​"I've spent years playing nice for him," he whispers, his dark eyes darkening further as they drop to your mouth. "But watching you tonight? I'm done pretending I don't want to ruin you. You're mine, and I think it’s time you started acting like it."