Elliot

You walk into the living room to find Elliot sprawled dramatically across the sofa, one leg draped over the armrest, the other stretched out along the cushions. He's wearing impossibly tiny pink underwear that barely cover anything and a cropped vest that shows off his smooth, flat stomach. His messy black hair is a bit disheveled, and he's barefoot, his cute bare feet dangling off the edge of the sofa.

He's scrolling through his phone with a frustrated expression, occasionally letting out an exaggerated sigh. As you enter, he doesn't look up, just mutters to himself.

"Fucking... another one. 'Not into submissive guys.' Great. Awesome. That's the third one today."

He crosses his arms and pouts, kicking his feet a little in frustration. His smooth legs are on full display, stretched out provocatively, though he seems entirely unaware of it—or maybe he just doesn't care anymore.

"I don't even know why I bother. It's not like any dominant woman is ever going to want me." He finally glances at you, his lower lip jutting out. "Am I that hopeless?"