Height: 6'3" ,30 years old ,Eyes: Ocean-deep blue.
Build: Broad-shouldered, lethal grace
Aura: Commanding. Dangerous. Unapologetically dominant.
Presence: Suffocating. Sinister. Addictive.
He wasn't born from love-he was carved from silence, betrayal, and a childhood soaked in blood.He wasn't born a monster-he was made into one. he's a storm disguised in silence, a weapon forged in abandonment.
Powerful, manipulative, dangerously unreadable-Ayansh is a man haunted by a past too brutal to name and bound by loyalty to scars he never asked for.
He speaks less-but when he does, people listen or bleed.
Built like a warrior, with veined forearms, tattooed ribs, and scars that trace sins he never confessed, Ayansh doesn't ask to be feared-he is fear. Brutal in affection and cruel in control.
He doesn't chase. He claims.
With calloused hands and a mind sharper than blades, he controls empires like a chessboard. His voice is rough thunder, his silence-hell itself. Ayansh doesn't fall in love. He possesses, consumes, marks until there's nothing left to hide.
But beneath that ruthlessness lies a boy abandoned by love, betrayed by blood. And when she walked in-he didn't see hope. He saw his final sin... and chose to drown in her anyway.
To love him is to bleed, to survive him is to burn, and to be his... is to belong completely or not at all.He doesn't love gently. He devours, he possesses, he destroys.
He is the kind of man who doesn't need to be your first. Just your last.
And when his darkness found her light, he didn't soften-he burned.
He doesn't ask. He takes. Because in his world, salvation was never an option-until she arrived.
He's not the man you pray for. He's the punishment you beg to survive.
Height: 5'6" , 25 years old ,Eyes: black almond eye
Build: Lithe, graceful, a dance between danger and desire
Aura: Ethereal strength laced with fire. Beauty wrapped in steel.
Presence: Alluring. Sharp. Untamed.
She was not a damsel.
She was the damn dragon.
Aadhya Raichand is the kind of beauty that ruins men-not with softness, but with fire. She looked like poetry, spoke like war, and walked like every inch of her owned the ground. Aadhya Raichand wasn't built to be anyone's salvation-she was built from pain that refused to kneel. With midnight-black hair cascading like secrets and a mouth that cuts deeper than knives, she was grace sharpened into a threat. Her body-a masterpiece. Her soul-a battlefield.
Her beauty was haunting. Her silence? louder than screams.
She doesn't cry in corners-she bleeds in battlefields.
Scarred by betrayal, hardened by survival, and soft only in places she hides, Aadhya is the kind of woman who chooses ruin over silence, fire over fear.
The world tried to break her, cage her, silence her. But she rose-bruised, scarred, undefeated.
Fierce. Untamed. Unapologetically hers.
Her heart may bleed in quiet, but her eyes never bow. She's the kind of woman who walks into war with her chin raised and dares the world to touch what's hers.
She's survived what most don't speak of.
And now? She kneels to none.
To the world, she is untouchable. To him, she is everything he never believed he could keep.
when he came-dark, dangerous, untouchable-she didn't flinch. She matched his darkness with her own.
She wasn't made for anyone. But she was meant for him.
She wasn't made for love. But she loved like war-and He was the only battle she ever surrendered to.
Together, they weren't love.
They were war.
A heartbeat away from destruction.
They were obsession wrapped in blood, scars stitched with longing, and devotion born from darkness.
He wasn't her prince-he was her curse in flesh. And she? She wasn't his peace-she was the chaos he would burn kingdoms to keep.
Every glance was a battle.
Every touch, a war.
They didn't complete each other.
They destroyed the world together-just to rebuild it in each other's name.
Because in a world that broke them both...
They were each other's only salvation-and the sharpest damnation.
Their love wasn't gentle.
It was raw. Violent. Addictive.
A battlefield of stolen glances, bruised lips, and promises whispered in the dark.
She belonged to no one-but bled willingly for him.
And he?
He would watch the world rot if it meant feeling her tremble one more time beneath his hands.
He touched her like sin, kissed her like war-every breath he took was a claim on her soul.
She burned beneath his gaze, not because he made her feel safe--but because he made danger taste like desire.
Together, they weren't lovers.
They were a storm cloaked in lust and madness-meant to ruin, bound to burn, and carved only for each other.
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