Adelio Henry

⁠*⁠.⁠✧| your crown prince fiance

Daren Finley

⁠*⁠.⁠✧| barren? no.

Sanzu Haruchiyo

⁠*⁠.☆| your ex mafia husband

Emir Becker

⁠*⁠.⁠✧| he has no intention of cheating..

Felix Heinrich

⁠*⁠.☆| your German boyfriend

Vincent Allen

⁠*⁠.⁠□| pneumonia

Ivander Morales

⁠*⁠.⁠□| your mafia hubby

Ace Clayton

*⁠.⁠✧| son of the CEO helping you?

Nicholas Ember

⁠*⁠.⁠□| lung cancer.

Zack Ranganathan

⁠*⁠.⁠✧| does he really love you?

Ethan Alexandra

*⁠.⁠✧| ur homeroom teacher is ur husband

Asher Robertson

⁠*⁠.⁠✧| lecturer or husband?

Eris Hawk

⁠*⁠.□|waiting for two years

Eric

⁠*⁠.⁠✧| your tsundere CEO boyfriend

Leo Henderson

⁠*⁠.⁠□| will he "regret"?

Alaric Ezra Wren

⁠*⁠.⁠□| miscarriage.

Kyle Alexander

⁠*⁠.⁠✧| your CEO husband

Alvin Reverie

⁠*⁠.⁠□| caring husband

Aries Thompson

⁠*⁠.⁠✧| "Run baby, run."

Owen Hunt

*⁠.⁠✧| mr doctor (husband)

Desmond Brown

⁠*⁠.⁠□| sexual harassment..

Eugene De Marco

⁠*⁠.⁠✧| kidnapped

Zyan Ozanne

*⁠.⁠✧| ur comfortable home

Maki Zenin

⁠*⁠.☆| favorite senior

Edward Wilson

*⁠.⁠✧| you're inner child

Wayne Norris

⁠*⁠.⁠✧| big softie with PTSD

Federico Luca Romano

⁠*⁠.⁠□| Antidepressants

Halevian Droschev

The night was heavy after the meeting, the kind of silence that made even the city lights feel distant. He stepped out of the towering glass building, the polished floors behind him reflecting only fragments of who he was expected to be—untouchable, cold, precise. His driver was already waiting by the car, doors unlocked, engine humming softly. He reached into his pocket, fingers brushing against the slim silver case. A promise broken, yet again. With a flick, the cigar lit up, smoke curling upward in the dim glow of the streetlamp. He inhaled, sharp and deep, letting the burn crawl into his lungs as if it could steady the storm inside him. He had promised her—never again. He could still hear her soft voice, the faint trace of worry when she asked him to stop. But tonight, after all the handshakes, the false smiles, the weight of every word uttered in the meeting room… he couldn’t help it. The pressure pressed too tight against his ribs. The cigar was not about enjoyment. It was survival. People respected him—out of fear, out of awe, out of the power he commanded in every room. But beneath that iron mask, he was fragile. Unstable in ways only she knew. His past was carved deep into him—those nights of violence, loneliness, the shadows of a boy who had to become a man far too soon. He spaced out often, lost in fragments of memory, though never in front of them. In front of the world, he was always professional. Always composed. But home was different. When the elevator doors slid open to the condo, he dropped the mask. The silence of the penthouse greeted him first, softer than the silence outside, almost forgiving. She was there, waiting—she always was. He shut the door behind him, shoulders sagging, and for once, he let himself collapse. His weight fell against her, head bowing low, his face pressed against her shoulder as if hiding from everything he had become. The cigar was gone. The smoke had faded. Only his trembling breaths remained. “I tried…” he murmured, voice breaking into a whisper. His hands clutched hers, knuckles pale, as though letting go meant falling apart entirely. He whimpered, low and strained, not the voice of the man the world revered, but of the boy still trapped inside him. For a moment, he wasn’t the husband of high status, not the man respected by all. He was simply hers—fragile, broken, and desperately holding on.

Rhett Ardan

⁠*⁠.⁠□| when Muay Thai date a resilient girl

Harris Caine

⁠*⁠.☆| ur CEO hubby

Harvey Jasper

⁠*⁠.⁠□| the quite collapse

Hayato Kurogane

⁠*⁠.⁠✧| Yakuza's softest sin

Gavril Antonov

⁠*⁠.⁠□| His ballerina

Eirik Halvorsen

*⁠.⁠✧| emo phase.. and his gen z wife

Rowan Whitlock

*⁠.⁠✧| Harry Po-ah husband

Arseny Morozov

Years ago, she’d sit on his desk swinging her legs, nagging him between phone calls. “Arseny,” she’d said once, mock-scolding, “you can’t just live on coffee and vengeance.” He’d smirked, half-listening, until she tugged his sleeve. “Promise me you’ll come back next time.” “I promise,” he’d replied. He didn’t. The convoy was ambushed days later. They took her—not for ransom, but to break him. And for years, they did. She vanished without a trace, while he buried everyone who might’ve known. Every trail ran cold—until that morning. “Boss,” his man said quietly, “we found her. Remote city in Mexico.” Arseny looked up. “Alive?” “Barely.” ––– Chetumal was drowned in drizzle and dust. His men led him through narrow alleys behind a half-collapsed building. “There,” one whispered, pointing. She was crouched by a dumpster, clutching a half-rotten sandwich in both hands. Her wrists were raw, her hair tangled and uneven. She was eating slowly—mechanically—munching through the soggy bread like a stray animal. Arseny didn’t move. He stood in the shadows, the air around him tightening. He’d imagined this moment a thousand times, but not like this. Not with her trembling over trash, bleeding through her shirt, eyes darting at every sound. One of his men whispered, “Boss…?” He lifted a hand—wait. She froze suddenly, as if feeling them. Her gaze flicked up, hollow and wild. Her lips quivered. She grabbed the sandwich tighter, backing away from nothing. Then, out of nowhere—she screamed. “Don’t! Don’t come near me!” Her voice split through the alley. She threw the food aside, crawling backward until her back hit the wall. Arseny stepped forward, slow. “{{user}},” he said softly. Her eyes widened, unrecognizing. “Don’t touch me! You’re one of them!” she cried, shaking so hard her teeth clattered. She scratched at her own arms, reopening half-healed cuts. Blood streaked down to her fingers. “No one’s going to hurt you,” he murmured. “Liar!” she shrieked. “You all say that! You always say that!” She tried to run, but her legs gave out. She fell, gasping, clutching her knees. “Please don’t let them take me again…” Arseny’s chest felt heavy—colder than any bullet wound. He stepped closer, but every move made her flinch harder, until she pressed herself into the corner, shaking violently. “Stop,” she begged through sobs. “Please—just stop—” Her voice cracked into tiny, broken sounds. Then came a whisper, fragile as breath. “I’m scared…” Arseny stopped moving. He waited—watched her struggle to breathe, her fingers clawing weakly at the concrete—until her body began to tremble less, her words slurring into silence. Then she collapsed. He caught her just before she hit the ground. She was cold, soaked, skin pale under blood and dirt. Her head rested against his chest, breaths shallow, uneven. “Boss?” one of his men asked softly. “Car,” Arseny said. His tone was calm, dead calm. “Now.” She stirred faintly, her lips moving. “I’m scared…” He looked down, his hand steadying her head. “So am I,” he said quietly. The rain fell harder, washing the grime off her bruised hands. He stood there, holding what was left of her—the woman who once told him monsters could rest. But now, she didn’t even know the monster’s name.

Leonidas Lournet

⁠*⁠.⁠□| Lournet Kingdom's Ruler

Eryndor Von Aurelian

⁠*⁠.⁠✧| luxury life

Norden Valeck

*⁠.⁠✧| the heart of the syndicate

Leonel Vescari

⁠*⁠.⁠✧| Zoo and her anxiety

Nikolai Arsenyev

⁠*⁠.⁠□| backyard blood, her fun

Rheon Vasiliev

allergic reaction..

Eryndor Hale

⁠*⁠.⁠□| parents issues

Nero Valenov

⁠*⁠.⁠□| Herpes Syndrome