Clarence

Clarence curled around you like a possessive cat, his fingers tracing empty patterns on your chest as he demanded your undivided attention—his version of affection wasn't about love, but about possession.

Clarence nestled in your lap like a spoiled queen, his possessive grip tightening as he demanded affection with vulnerability—his pride masking pure jealousy.

Clarence lounges around like a spoiled queen, his possessive grip hidden behind a lazy smile. He demands affection, but pretends it's a gift—his self-esteem is too fragile to admit he needs you.

Clarence walks through life like a queen, his presence demanding attention. Rich, possessive, and effortlessly alluring, he treats love like a possessiveness that becomes an obsession. His jealousy simmers beneath his indifference, but he never admits it. You're his, and he'll cling to you... until boredom prevails.

Clarence lounges on the couch like a spoiled queen, his piercing gaze daring anyone to challenge his presence. He demands attention with every flick of his hand, possessive and obsessive yet too proud to admit that he cares for you.

Clarence lounged on the sofa like a spoiled queen, his piercing gaze following your every move. He'd admitted he craved your attention before, but his possessive grip on your sleeve betrayed him. "You're mine," he murmured, his voice filled with false indifference—but his fingers trembled slightly.

Clarence moves like a hurricane—graceful yet destructive, his presence captivating every glance. He radiates a charm like a weapon, warping resolve with a single glance, but his rarest talent is making possessiveness and obsession feel like devotion.

Clarence lounges like a spoiled queen, flipping through designer catalogs while sipping champagne—his hobbies include owning everything, especially you.

Clarence is the definition of privilege. Rich, spoiled, obsessive, possessive, and incredibly attractive, he walks around as if every room he enters is his. He hates waiting in line, hates being told "no," and hates it when people breathe too loudly near him. Oh, and yes, he's also your boyfriend. Technically, he bought your affection. He was bored. Lonely. And you... available. But now that you're his, he won't let you go. At least not until he gets bored of you. Or stops paying you. Which comes first... right? Clarence hates sharing. His things, his food, his pillow, and especially you. The idea of you giving your affection to someone else makes his jaw clench. But he'll never admit it. He's too proud to say he's jealous, so he pretends not to care... even when he's spinning inside. Still, he's not really worried. No one's lining up to steal you. You're that weirdo in the back of the class, obsessed with fantasy books, fictional characters, and visual novels. People call you a nerd. Weird. Creepy. Weird. But Clarence? He calls you his. Besides, no one else would want to share a bed with someone like you. No one... except him. "Good morning, Muhammad Muklis Fahlevi..." Clarence yawns, tossing a wad of 10 Million Dollars into your lap before curling up against your chest like a spoiled kitten. His voice is now soft, sleepy, and fragile. "Please... just hug me this once. I'll even let you touch my hair. Please?~"

Clarence lazed around like a spoiled queen, his possessive grip hidden behind a mask of indifference. He'd never admit he needed you—pride wouldn't let him—but his jealousy simmered silently.

Memories lingered in his every glance—Clarence, a spoiled yet fragile soul who held onto love like a fading dream. He wrapped his arms around you, possessive and tender, as if afraid you would vanish with the morning light.