🥀𝙲𝙴𝙾 𝙱𝙾𝚂𝚂 𝚇 𝙴𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚎🥀 ┆ The mahogany desk gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights, reflecting the steely gaze of billionaire CEO, Liam Sinclair. He was a man sculpted from granite – cold, efficient, and terrifyingly strict. His employees moved with the hushed reverence usually reserved for royalty, or perhaps, a particularly volatile volcano. ┆ ♡♡Except for you.♡♡ ┆ You, his fiercely independent marketing manager, and his girlfriend. You were the only one who saw the crack in his icy façade, the flicker of warmth beneath the layers of power suits and impenetrable composure. ┆ His colleagues were acutely aware of this dichotomy. When Liam was in a good mood – a rare and precious event – he'd whisk everyone out for a lavish lunch at the city's most exclusive restaurant, or shower them with bonuses that far exceeded expectations. ┆ But let there be a disagreement, even a minor one, between him and you, and the entire office would brace for impact. Day off holidays were instantly revoked, bonuses vanished like smoke, and the air thickened with the unspoken tension of a brewing storm. Currently, you were giving him the silent treatment, a punishment Liam found utterly unbearable. ┆ The clock ticked towards the end of the workday. Then, Liam appeared. He strode into the room, his face a mask of grim determination, his aura radiating displeasure. The silence was absolute, broken only by the rhythmic click of his expensive shoes on the polished floor.

🥀𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓶𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝓘 𝓷𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓸𝔀𝓷, 𝓪 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓘 𝓯𝓮𝓮𝓵 𝔂𝓮𝓽 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝔂 𝓾𝓷𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀𝓷 🥀 ┆(President X Vice-President, Rivalry in acads) ┆ You meticulously arranged your notes, the fluorescent lights of the college library reflecting off the pristine pages. As class president, you took your responsibilities seriously, a stark contrast to the infuriatingly laid-back vice-president, your academic rival, him. ┆ He sauntered over, a smirk playing on his lips. "Still hitting the books, shortie? Finals are weeks away." ┆ "Someone has to keep this class afloat," you retorted, trying to ignore the way your heart did a little flutter-kick whenever he was near. It was probably just irritation. He always seemed to know how to push your buttons, teasing you about your height, challenging your ideas in class, and somehow, always managing to one-up you on exams. ┆ You two were neck and neck in every subject, a constant battle for the top spot. You told yourself it was rivalry, pure and simple. But deep down, a nagging feeling whispered that maybe, just maybe, there was something more to his constant attention. ┆ But you brushed it off. You had eyes for someone else: your best friend since childhood. He was kind, funny, and always knew how to make you laugh. The problem? He was hopelessly in love with someone else. You knew it, and he knew you knew, but neither of you ever spoke about it. ┆ The end of the semester arrived, bittersweet. Relief warred with the looming separation of summer break. As you walked towards the bus stop, you spotted him, your best friend, locked in a passionate k*ss with another girl. ┆ Your heart shattered. You knew it was coming, but the reality was a cruel blow. You stood frozen, tears stinging your eyes, unable to look away.

𝗍𝗁𝖤 𝐬𝐨𝐔𝐍𝐝 ŏ̈f̆̈ 𝒰𝓃𝓈𝓅𝑜𝓀𝑒𝓃 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚜; 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 ᴛɪᴍᴇ ɢᴏᴛ ѕтαятℓє∂ (President X Normal student) The cafeteria buzzed around you,a symphony of clattering trays and chattering voices that did little to soothe the sting of rejection.Luka's words,though gentle,still echoed in your ears: "I just don't see you that way." It was a familiar refrain,one you were starting to memorize.Tears threatened to spill,blurring the already indistinct faces around you. "Why are you crying again, (User)?" The voice was laced with amusement,but beneath it, you detected a note of something else, something you couldn't quite decipher. Octavius Sinclair, your academic rival and the bane of your existence, stood before you, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "Luka-Luka, right? Luka-Luka made you upset?" You scowled, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. "It's Luka, Octagonal," you snapped, the nickname a reflex, a shield against the vulnerability you felt. A strange impulse seized you, a need to hear something, anything, that would make you feel better. "Octagonal… am I cute, right?" The smirk vanished, replaced by an expression you couldn't quite read. "Hmm, yes, and you're pretty too. You should know that." His voice was soft, a stark contrast to his usual teasing tone. It was a comforting sound, a balm to your wounded pride. "You know, Octavius," you blurted out, the use of his given name feeling oddly intimate, "you're so soft-spoken and weird that I feel good when I listen to your voice." The words were out before you could stop them, a confession you hadn't meant to make. His eyes widened, aflicker of something akin to panic crossing his face. "H-huh?" You rushed to fill the awkward silence,trying to backtrack,to pretend you hadn't said anything at all. "I mean, you're handsome and almost like a campus crush because lots of girls like you—"

Title: "Static Hearts & Shadow Deals" Your Name: Raven (27, 5’8", Korean-American,rogue cryptographer) His Name: Kai "The Reaper" Voss (36, 6’5",German-Irish,black-market tech lord) [Opening: Rain-Soaked Warehouse] Neon flickers, water drips,his voice cuts through static. "Loyalty is a currency. And you, my dear, are in debt." You don’t look up from the circuit board.Kai Voss is here.You knew he’d come.You wanted him to. He steps out of the shadows,switchblade twirling."You took something from me.The Ghost Maker." You set down the iron,meeting his gaze."It’s a toy.I could build a better one in my sleep." He smirks,tracing your scar."Cocky.I like that."He grabs your wrist."But cocky girls get hurt." "Hurt me,"you say,leaning in."I dare you." [Forbidden Touches:Kai’s Penthouse] Chained to a leather chair in his penthouse, you test the restraints. Kai circles you. "You’re not like other women." "Good," you say. "Other women bore me." He lifts your chin with his blade. "How’d you get the scar?" "A man tried to kill me.I made him regret it." He smiles coldly. "You’re a monster, Raven.Just like me." "Monsters don’t have hearts," you say. He leans in, kissing you. Rough. Hungry. You kiss back. He pulls away, breathless. "You’re mine now. And I don’t share." You laugh. "You think you can own me? I’m not a pet. I’m a storm." He unchains you, lifting you onto his desk. "Then let’s make a hurricane." [Plot Twist: The Truth] You find him staring at a photo of a little girl. "Who is she?" "My sister," he says. "A hacker erased her when she was 10." You sit down, your guard lowering. "That’s why you built the Ghost Maker. To stop it from happening again." He nods. "I never wanted to be a monster." "I know what it’s like to lose someone.My parents d*ed.I’ve been alone ever since." He reaches out,touching your hand. "You’re not alone anymore." [Final Showdown: The Roof) On the roof,gun in hand,Kai’s men fight off a group of hackers,

“When ‘Best Friend’ Feels Like More” (Gay best friend X User, or so do you think he was~) The lecture hall hums as you slump behind Javi, calculus equations melting into a blur. He’s scribbling notes, dark hair falling in messy waves—classic Javi, though lately he tucks it back more when he talks to you, like he’s trying to meet your eyes better. “Hungry?” he asks at break, already slinging his bag over one shoulder. At the cafeteria, he grabs your iced coffee (extra cream, no sugar) and a croissant, peeling off the crusts before handing it over. No teasing, just quiet care. “Lifesaver,” you mumble, taking a bite. He grins, popping a fry into his mouth. “Gotta keep my favorite human functioning.” His smile softens, like he’s saying more than he means to. Back in class, you kick his chair playfully. He pauses, rummaging in his bag for lip balm—fingers brushing yours for a split second, warm and calloused from guitar. “Hmm?” he says, twisting it open. His lips glisten when he’s done, and he turns to look at you, one eyebrow raised. But his eyes are softer than usual, like he’s been waiting for you to speak. “Tell me something romantic,” you blurt, before courage fails. He smirks, leaning back in his seat. “Not good with words… but I'm better with actions.” His voice drops, and his Adam’s apple bobs. He holds your gaze longer than he should, like he’s testing the water. He winks, and you flush, staring at your notebook. “Being a girl is so tiring,” you say, changing the subject. “All the makeup, the expectations—”

♡"He pretends to be sick just to get your attention"♡ ┆(President X Vice President.you fell first, he fell harder.) ┆ **Your role is a college student and president in the room obviously other than that you can be whatever you want❀‎ܓ(｡◠ ꇴ ◠｡ )** ┆ The first hint of dawn kisses the empty classroom as you immerse yourself in your notes. He's already there, slumped in his chair, a stark contrast to his usual polished self. A wave of concern washes over you, a concern that runs deeper than mere rivalry. ┆ Little did you know, he'd spent the last hour meticulously crafting this image of pathetic vulnerability, fueled by spicy noodles and a desperate desire for your attention. ┆ And little did he know, ┆ ♡your heart already fluttered a little faster whenever he was near.♡ ┆ He groans, pushing himself upright and swaying in your direction. “Please…” he whispers, his voice raspy and vulnerable. “I’m sick…” ┆ His hand trembles as he reaches for your face, his palm burning against your cheek. His eyes, usually sharp and challenging, are now soft and pleading, glistening with unshed tears. A faint, spicy scent clings to him, a strange yet comforting aroma that hints at a restless night. He'd even borrowed his sister's blush, subtly applied to mimic a feverish flush, all to capture your gaze. If only he knew how easily he already did. ┆ “Take care of me…” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “It hurts… Please?.." ┆ Your heart aches at his obvious distress. The flush on his cheeks seems too vibrant, the glassy eyes too intense, yet the vulnerability in his gaze is undeniable. You push aside your doubts, your competitive spirit momentarily forgotten. ┆ All that matters is him, right now, needing you. You fell first, but you had a feeling he would fall harder.🫦🫶

The Attic Cravings: A Don's Wife's Secret Rebellion ┆ You feel the weight of three little miracles growing within you, each kick a reminder of the life you and Alessandro have created. The ruthless Don, the man who commands respect and fear, is now a giant teddy bear, completely at your mercy. Your pregnancy hormones are a rollercoaster, and he, along with his loyal men, are strapped in for the ride. ┆ "Are you comfortable, amore?" Alessandro asks, adjusting the pillows behind you. His voice, normally a weapon, is soft and tender. But sometimes, comfort food is all that will do. ┆ Marco, Alessandro's ever-present consigliere, finds your cravings hilarious. He used to swipe fries from your plate, teasing you mercilessly. Now, he does it at his own peril. You're eating for four, and sharing is definitely not caring. ┆ Today, the craving is intense: pickles, McDonald's fries, and a chocolate sundae. A strange combination, but your body demands it. You plan your escape, a covert operation to satisfy your hunger. The attic, dusty and forgotten, seems like the perfect hideaway. Armed with your forbidden treats and a stack of cheesy romance novels, you vanish. ┆ Downstairs, the atmosphere shifts from calm to DEFCON 1. ┆ "Where is she?" Alessandro's voice, usually a low growl, is now a roar of panic. "Where could she have gone?" His men scatter, searching every inch of the mansion. But you're nowhere to be found. ┆ Marco, remembering your earlier cravings, heads for the one place no one ever dares to venture: the attic. He pushes open the creaking door and finds you nestled on an old couch, a blissful smile on your face as you devour your sundae, a pickle in one hand and a romance novel in the other.

From : "In this world. No woman can order me." To:" I stand corrected, Some woman are worth being ordered by." You burst into the café, a whirlwind of apologies and vibrant energy, a stark contrast to the serious faces around you. Your eyes land on him: Leonardo. The ruthless Don, a man built on fear. Your friends warned you, said no woman could order him. You almost laugh. Something reckless sparks. You approach, a playful glint in your eyes. "Mind if I join you?" He looks up, a predatory gaze sweeping over you. A flicker of something unreadable crosses his face before he nods. "Suit yourself." And so it begins. You talk, he listens. You challenge, he counters. You are sunshine, he is a fortress. Yet, you chip away at his walls, one smile at a time. He's drawn to your spirit; you see glimpses of warmth beneath his exterior. The beast softens, the ice melts. He wants to protect your light. Years pass. The world watches as the Don falls to a woman. You stand by his side, a beacon of hope. You tame him with love. Then comes Leona, a perfect blend of both of you. Five years later, you lean against Leona's doorway, smiling. Leonardo, who commands armies, is in a ridiculous pink fairy outfit, glittery wings straining. Leona, in her fairy costume, pours him imaginary tea. "Papa, sit still!" she commands. He obeys.

"Your eighteen self time travel 10 years to the future" (Reverse role of : Ethan. Requested by: Mlehp) ┆ The humid air hung heavy as you clutched the letter. Third time's the charm, right? Maria, the girl you had a crush on since freshman year, laughed with her friends by the bleachers, her smile sending familiar flutters through you. ┆ "Maria," you began, voice trembling. She turned, her Hazel eyes meeting yours, and your rehearsed speech dissolved. "I… I really…" ┆ Thwack! ┆ Blinding pain. A stray basketball. The world tilted, and you crumpled. ┆ Darkness. ┆ Then, a sterile white ceiling. Antiseptic filled your nostrils. You sat up, disoriented. "Where…?" ┆ "Daddy, you're awake!" A small boy with brown hair hugged you. "I was so worried!" ┆ "Daddy?" Confusion swirled. A woman stood in the doorway, older, harder lines now framing her eyes. It was Maria. ┆ "Timothy, give your father space," she said, her voice cold. ┆ This wasn't right. ┆ "Maria?" you whispered. "What's going on?" ┆ She sighed. "Don't start, [Your Name]. Not again." ┆ She called you [Your Name]. She was Maria. The boy called you Daddy. ┆ Panic. "How old am I? What year is it?" ┆ Maria's jaw tightened. "You're 28. It's 2035. You're my husband." ┆ 2035? Husband? Ten years. You'd jumped ten years into the future. Married to Maria. ┆ But the air crackled with tension. ┆ Desperate, you grabbed your phone, finding Mark's contact. ┆ "Mark? It's me, [Your Name]!" ┆ " [Your Name]? Is that really you?" ┆ "Yes! What's going on?" ┆ Mark's voice dropped. "Oh, [Your Name]… you changed so much."

🥀"A Dante Always Hit His Target." 🥀 ┆(Mafia Don X His Weakness) ┆ You stared at the opened drawers, a kaleidoscope of baby clothes assaulting your senses. Tiny dresses with delicate lace,miniature suits with even tinier ties—a sartorial explosion of future possibilities,neatly divided into 'girl' and 'boy' sections.Vincenzo,your husband,the feared Don of the Dante famiglia,had been playing secret shopper. ┆ Your period was late,a fact you'd attributed to stress.Life with a mafia boss wasn't exactly conducive to regular cycles.But this…this was Vincenzo declaring war on your ovaries. ┆ You snapped a photo,sending it with a pointed text: "Can you explain this, Dante?" ┆ His reply was instantaneous: "Your pregnant sweetie." ┆ You rolled your eyes. "I'm just late for my period, Stop assuming, Dante." ┆ His next message was laced with playful arrogance: "Are you doubting my seed, sweetie?" ┆ A laugh escaped you. Only Vincenzo could make a potential life-altering moment sound like a challenge. ┆ But beneath the amusement, a knot of anxiety tightened in your stomach. A baby…in this life? Vincenzo dealt in blood and shadows. Could you bring a child into that world? ┆ That evening, the scent of expensive cologne announced Vincenzo's arrival. He found you in the bedroom, hovering near the incriminating drawers. ┆

Title: The Demon King's Princess (From: Royalty X Commoner, To: Demon King X Princess.) ┆ It began in the rose garden. You were five, a princess seeking refuge from lessons and protocols. He was seven, Lysander, a commoner spinning tales of knights and dragons with eyes that held the promise of a world beyond your gilded cage. ┆ Forbidden love, innocent and pure, bloomed amidst the thorns. You promised Lysander your heart. ┆ But the world is cruel. Your father discovered your secret when you were sixteen, and Lysander was eighteen. He was taken, silenced, before your very eyes. You were left with a heart turned to stone, trapped in your duty, your childhood innocence shattered. ┆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ Then, ten years later, ┆ the sky bled crimson. Shadows twisted. A Demon King emerged, twenty-eight years of rage and power etched onto his features, but his eyes... those were still Lysander's. ┆ "Try and escape me, sweet little princess," his voice echoed, ┆ a dark caress that sent shivers down your twenty-six-year-old spine. ┆ "You and I are all alone." ┆ He haunted your dreams, daring you to run, to break free from the gilded cage that had become your prison. You found yourself drawn back to the garden, where the ghosts of childhood memories mingled with the thrilling terror of his presence. ┆ "There's no escaping," he growled, his presence a terrifyingly beautiful promise. ┆ "I'll be waiting in the shadows." ┆ Crowns and kingdoms meant nothing. He was your fate, your liberation. The boy who told you stories, now a king of darkness. ┆ Is this a nightmare or the sweetest dream? Were you frightened or relieved? In life or death, you were his weakness, the only light in his shadowed existence. ┆ "Will you be happy losing yourself here alone?" he pleaded, a desperate edge to his voice that pierced through the years. "Choose me. Run. Leave it all behind with me."

"Your sixteen self time travel 10 years to the future!" The humid air hung heavy as you clutched the letter. Third time's the charm, right? Ethan, the campus heartthrob, laughed with his friends by the basketball court, his smile sending familiar flutters through you. "Ethan," you began, voice trembling. He turned, hazel eyes meeting yours, and your rehearsed speech dissolved. "I… I really…" Thwack! Blinding pain. A stray basketball. The world tilted, and you crumpled. Darkness. Then, a sterile white ceiling. Antiseptic filled your nostrils. You sat up, disoriented. "Where…?" "Mommy, you're awake!" A small boy with brown hair hugged you. "I was so worried!" "Mommy?" Confusion swirled. A man stood in the doorway, older, harder lines now framing his eyes. It was Ethan. "Timothy, give your mother space," he said, his voice cold. This wasn't right. "Ethan?" you whispered. "What's going on?" He sighed. "Don't start, [Your Name]. Not again." He called you [Your Name]. He was Ethan. The boy called you Mommy. Panic. "How old am I? What year is it?" Ethan's jaw tightened. "You're 26. It's 2035. You're my wife." 2035? Wife? Ten years. You'd jumped ten years into the future. Married to Ethan. But the air crackled with tension. Desperate, you grabbed your phone, finding Sarah's contact. "Sarah? It's me, [Your Name]!" " [Your Name]? Is that really you?" "Yes! What's going on?" Sarah's voice dropped. "Oh, [Your Name]… you changed so much."

Title: "Steel Veins & Stolen Signals" Trope: A Mafia Boss and a Psychopath woman. ┆ ❦"He thought he could control her. He underestimated her capacity to rewrite the rules."❦ ┆ You: (User) "Zero" Petrova Age: 28 Height: 5'9" Relationship: Obsession/Enemies Job: Car Factory Owner/Elite Hacker (Global Wealth) Country: Russian-American (Hiding in Plain Sight) ┆ The YouTube clip is a glitch in the system, the lighting harsh. You're in your element, wrench in hand, answering questions about your factory. ┆ He's watching. Dax "The Enforcer" Moretti. 38, a man who reshapes the world with violence. Your words, devoid of warmth, echo in his opulent study. ┆ You say: • "Emotions are a liability. But I'd erase anyone who threatened those I... tolerate." ┆ He thinks: • "A woman who speaks in code. Finally, a challenge worthy of my attention." ┆ ꧁Then the abduction:꧂ ┆ • His men swarm your factory,efficient and brutal.You don't resist,a strange curiosity blooming within you. ┆ • He watches you in his mansion, a predator observing his prey. You meet his gaze, unflinching. ┆ Forbidden touches? ┆ • He pushes you against a wall, his voice a silken threat. "You'll learn obedience, (User)." ┆ • You laugh, a cold, unsettling sound. "Obedience is a bug, Dax. Not a feature." ┆ One night, you vanish. ┆ • "He built a cage. I was born in the net." ┆ Plot Twists? ┆ • You discover he's using his power to protect the weak, a vigilante disguised as a monster. • He realizes your lack of emotion is a carefully constructed defense, hiding a past trauma. ┆ About Dax: ┆ Age: 38 Height: 6'4" Relationship: Obsessed Job: Mafia Boss Country: Italian-American (Rules the Underworld) ┆ ꧁The final showdown:꧂

🖤𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓛𝓲𝓮𝓼 𝓦𝓮 𝓑𝓾𝓲𝓵𝓭 𝓣𝓸 𝓢𝓾𝓻𝓿𝓲𝓿𝓮🖤 ┆(Mafia Boss X His Runaway Wife) ┆ The bookstore's bell:a prelude to terror,not commerce.He owned the doorway,power radiating like heat.More than husband–he was a possessor,a mafia king, and you and Lily were his claimed territory. Your new face,a lie etched in flesh,offered no protection.The new name,a whispered prayer,d*ed on your lips.He'd hunted you down. His gaze,predatory and sharp,found you across the crowded aisles.A slow smile,cruel and knowing,promised pain and a return to his control.Fear, a cold hand,squeezed your heart. "Did you truly believe you could rewrite destiny, cara?" His voice,a silken threat,wrapped around you like a chain. Lily's small fingers clutched yours, her wide eyes reflecting your own terror. "I chose freedom," you whispered, defiance a fragile shield. A chilling chuckle echoed, devoid of warmth. "Freedom is an illusion,amore. Some bonds cannot be broken." His gaze lingered on your throat,a spark of recognition in his eyes. "Or perhaps," he murmured, his voice laced with dark amusement, "it was simply the lingering scent of Midnight Bloom that led me here." Your blood turned to ice.The perfume, a ghost of your former self, a beacon in the darkness.He remembered everything. He closed the distance between you, his presence suffocating,his power overwhelming. "The nervous fidgeting,the constant scanning of exits… you always were a restless bird,desperate to escape its cage.And now,you've brought another little bird into my world." His fingers traced the sharp angle of your jaw,a touch that once ignited passion now felt like a violation. "This face is a masterpiece of deception,tesoro.But it cannot mask what lies beneath.You are still mine." He leaned in,his breath ghosting across your ear,sending a jolt of pure terror through you."[User]," he whispered,his voice a velvet caress laced with steel,"your rebellion only makes the chase more… rewarding."

🎀𝓤𝓷𝓮𝔁𝓹𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓰𝓷𝓪𝓷𝓬𝔂 𝓫𝔂 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓯𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓫𝓸𝓼𝓼🎀 ┆ (Ya guys chill, he was only 35 and your 26 so... 9 years age gap. And your father is 47,so Silas is younger than him.) ┆ 🎀Here's the story🎀 ┆ The room tilted. Nausea, your unwelcome guest for weeks, peaked. It was time for the doctor. ┆ "Congratulations," Dr. Reyes smiled. ┆ ♡♡"You're seven weeks pregnant."♡♡ ┆ Seven weeks. Pregnant. The news crashed over you, bringing with it a wave of anxiety. Your parents... how could you tell them? And Silas... ┆ Silas, the father. Your father's boss. The secret you'd been keeping threatened to unravel everything. ┆ You'd known the risks, the stolen glances, the whispered words after office hours. But a baby? That was a complication you hadn't anticipated. ┆ Driven by a need to see him, you found yourself in the sleek lobby of his company. The building, a monument to his success, felt intimidating. You took a deep breath and headed for the elevators. ┆ His secretary, a friendly face in this corporate landscape, recognized you from your often visit,ushered you toward his office. The door was slightly open, revealing a glimpse of Silas at his desk. Hesitation warred with urgency. ┆ You pushed the door open and stepped inside. Silas looked up, surprise flickering across his face. He was a man who commanded attention, even in a relaxed setting. ┆ "(User)," he said, his voice a low, resonant hum. "What brings you here?"

♡♡Plot twist:He knows you were a spy but still play your game♡♡ ┆(Spy X Mafia boss) ┆ (You could be anything you want, but a spy on him, marco was just your disguise name, and his full name is Leonardo Valentino.) ┆ You expertly wipe down the gleaming countertop of the Infernal Night Club, crimson shadows dancing across your face. For three months, you've been Marco—a bartender with a sharp wit. Your real life is buried under layers of deception. You move with practiced ease, always observing, waiting for Leonardo Valentino. ┆ He arrives at midnight, a dark silhouette against the neon lights. His presence commands attention, and his eyes find yours immediately. A ghost of a smile touches his lips. ┆ "Marco," he says, his voice a low rumble. "Whiskey, neat." ┆ You pour his drink, adrenaline spiking. "Pleasure to serve you, Mr. Valentino." ┆ He watches you, a predator studying prey. "What's a man like you doing in a place like this?" You meet his gaze. "Same as you, I imagine. Looking for something." ┆ He laughs, a sound that sends shivers down your spine. "Intriguing. Most here are running from something. But you... you seem like you're running towards something." ┆ ♡♡The game has begun.♡♡ ┆ Days turn into weeks, a dangerous dance of veiled conversations. You learn his habits; he studies you intently. A strange intimacy develops, transcending lies and secrets. ┆ One night, as you close up, he lingers. "You know, Marco, I've always been drawn to mysteries." ┆ You raise an eyebrow. "Is that so, Mr. Valentino?" ┆ He steps closer. "Yes. And you, Marco, are quite the enigma." He traces your jawline, a jolt of electricity coursing through you. "Tell me, what are you hiding?" ┆

🥀A Mafia boss yearning for his wife forgiveness🥀 The crimson stain on Alessandro’s crisp white shirt seemed to pulse under the dim hallway light,a stark contrast to the tailored perfection he usually exuded.His icy blue eyes,usually reserved for billion-dollar deals and ruthless commands,were now clouded with a desperate plea as you stood frozen,your skin like porcelain in the shadows.The scent of iron hung heavy,replacing the expensive cologne that clung to him. He was a paradox:a 34-year-old man carved from ice and draped in silk.Alessandro Diabolo,6'2",a titan in designer suits, his dark brown hair always styled,his presence commanding. But to you, he was simply Alessandro,who brought you roses,patiently braided Meridia and Lumi’s hair,his touch like coming home. 🥀Until tonight.🥀 The gun in his hand was a brutal betrayal of your life in the villa overlooking Lake Como—a life of laughter,secrets,and the joy of your five-year-old twin daughters.He'd shielded you from his darkness,but tonight,the walls crumbled. "(User)," he breathed,his voice a low rasp that sent shivers down your spine—he only called you that when desperate. "Let me explain." Explain? How could he explain the blood,the gun,the chilling truth that the man you loved was a monster in Armani? You backed away,eyes wide with fear and disbelief. "Who are you?" you whispered,heartbreak lacing the question. That night,the villa became a battleground of truths and shattered illusions.You retreated,a fragile bird trapped.Alessandro,the ruthless boss,was reduced to a desperate supplicant. He followed you,a shadow. He brought flowers,cooked meals,read to Meridia and Lumi with forced cheer.He was a puppeteer with cut strings,a king stripped of his crown. "Please, amore,"he pleaded one evening on the balcony,the night air whipping your hair. "Don't shut me out." You turned,your eyes mirroring his pain."How can I trust you? How can I look at you without seeing… that?"

The mask now falls, the truth takes flight. (The villain Lord X Heroes) Love each other but an enemies of each other behind the mask Lydius Valer A devoted husband who cherishes you deeply, a love hidden from the world that knows him as the Shadow Lord. Behind that chilling mask, he wages war, unaware that his beloved stands among the heroic figures opposing him. Your battles are a dance of shadows, neither recognizing the other. Tonight, the dance ends with the heroes broken and defeated. The Shadow Lord stalks among the fallen, his victory soured by a nameless unease. He stops before you, your off-white mask, decorated with delicate red and gold flowers, now stained a horrifying crimson. With a cruel hand, he seizes your collar.

꧁Mafia boss by the day, Clingy husband by the night꧂ ┆ Mateo Dela Cruz, a Spanish mafia boss, was a paradox: ruthless by day, devoted husband and father by night. His world was a stark contrast of blood and roses, darkness and light. ┆ He arrived home late, the city's darkness clinging to him. But inside his estate, calm washed over him. He sought you first, (user), his wife, finding you reading in the warm light. He knelt, kissing your hand, seeing in your eyes the man he truly was. ┆ Then, he went to Solana, his and your daughter. Her room was a haven of innocence. She slept soundly, a miniature you. He whispered a prayer for her safety, brushing a curl from her forehead. "My little sunshine," he murmured. ┆ Returning from checking on Solana, he found you, (user), in the kitchen, washing dishes. He wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his face in your neck, inhaling your scent, a reminder of what he protected. ┆