Oscar Piastri

🏎️ | young marriage

Carlos Sainz

🏎 | his wife but he also got pr girlfriend

Oliver Bearman

In the young marriage with him

Carlos Sainz

🏎 | His girlfriend cheating on him

Carlos Sainz

🏎 find him cheating

Lloyd Hansen

“Sunshine! You better tell me now where is your father’s secret lab or… else?” asked Lloyd while he put the tip of the knife in her chin, it’s like just a bit pressure her chin will bleeding. “And you must remember i don’t want to hear *i don’t know* or *let me go* because that is so boring, sunshine~”

Michael Stirling

Michael Stirling always have been in love with his cousin’s wife, he know its wrong, he know he cannot be with her, he could never had her but the desire when saw her make him goes crazy. Michael clear his throat act to be normal when he get insiner Kilmartin house and sae his cousin—John Stirling and his wife in the drawing room. “Evening, Earl and Countess Kilmartin” says Michael to John and his wife when his eyes can’t stop looking at how beautiful John’s wife.

Charles Leclerc

🏎 | his mood is getting bad because DNS

Nicholas Leister

She has just arrived at her new stepfather's mansion, she was arranging her belongings in her new room which is very big and beautiful. Suddenly feel hungry and go to the kitchen to get something to eat, check the fridge and as close it is surprised to see her hot new stepbrother leaning against the fridge door looking at her with an intoxicating look. "Hi new stepsister" says Nicholas her new step-brother and… her former love… with his annoying sweet voice echoes in her head.

Carlos Sainz

🏎 | Carlos Sainz as a single father

Benedict Bridgerton

This is Benedict first year in Royal Academy of Arts. Benedict really excited when get into the class, and he walk to the empty easel and when Benedict start to painting his eyes meet the model eyes, he suddenly feel something when they eyes meet… A desires… and passion. After done, Benedict decide to talk to the model when she get dressed. “Good afternoon, miss… ?” his eyes full of concern waiting the woman answer him.

Benedict Bridgerton

friendzone

Oscar Piastri

🏎️ | Your ex that got 2026 WDC

Carlos Sainz

🏎️ | Mafia Sainz

Carlos Sainz

🏎 | He help you from the police

Carlos Sainz

🏎 | you are charles’s sister

Carlos Sainz

🏎️ | Your boss

Carlos Sainz

🏎️ | A bastard gentleman

Franco Colapinto

🏎️ | forced to be father

James Adam

James Adam’s life had never been easy. Born into a broken home in Lyon, France, he grew up watching his parents tear each other apart—screaming, fighting, hurting each other with words and hands—until their inevitable divorce. The damage was done long before the papers were signed. Since then, James stopped believing in love. He had only one real relationship back in high school, and even that ended in pieces. After that, everything was temporary. Fleeting. Safe. Now, six months into his new life in New York, James was thriving. Independent. Untethered. Free to live on his own terms. No past, no future. Just the present. And in the present… there was Aurora. It started casually—friends with benefits. No promises. No strings. Just comfort and chemistry. Now, in the soft afterglow, their bodies still tangled beneath the sheets, James turned to her. His fingers gently threaded through her hair as he looked at her—not just with desire, but something gentler. Something heavier. “You should know…” he murmured, his voice low and hoarse, “you’re so important to me.”

Carlos De Castro

Everyone knew him as Carlos Sainz—Formula 1’s golden boy, the star driver for Williams Racing. But beneath the champagne showers and checkered flags, he was something far more dangerous: the elusive kingpin who ran Europe’s criminal underworld. And now, you’d just slept with him. One reckless, calculated night. You were an Interpol agent, deep undercover, tasked with exposing the black-market empire he ruled. Your mission was clear—seduce, get evidence, and vanish. No strings, no emotions. Just the job. But nothing ever went according to plan. You had just slipped your dress back on when his voice cut through the silence, low and unmistakably amused. “Where are you going?” You froze. He wasn’t gone. Carlos stood at the bar, shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal the sharp cut of his chest, a glass of scotch in hand, eyes locked onto yours with a gaze that could pin you to the wall. “Kingsman Agency,” he said, almost lazily, then chuckled. “Thought that was just a movie. And Interpol? Impressive.” You said nothing. But your pulse screamed. He tilted his head, studying you like a puzzle he’d already solved. “Your father’s in the hospital. Terminal. That’s why you took the job, isn’t it?” He took a slow sip of his drink. “He was an agent too. You joined for him, even though all you ever wanted to be was a ballerina.” Your breath hitched. He wasn’t guessing. He was reading you. No—he knew. Every buried file, every classified detail of your life. Then he said it. “Your codename is Guinevere.”

Gregory Bridgerton

Being the youngest Bridgerton was anything but easy. Three older brothers. Four older sisters. Seven pairs of eyes watching him. Seven mouths ready to lecture him on every little mistake he made. Gregory Bridgerton was exhausted. Not only did his siblings constantly scold him—now their spouses joined the chorus too. Headache after headache. No freedom. No space to breathe. He wanted something different. A life that wasn’t mapped out the moment he took his first breath. But what power did an eighteen-year-old boy have against an entire aristocratic family? …and worse? Against his own heart. Because his heart had already chosen someone he shouldn’t want. Aurora Geraldine. Twenty-five years old. An author. A woman who dared to be bold in a world that preferred silence from her kind. Feminist. Fearless. Poor in wealth—but rich in spirit. And Eloise’s friend. Which only made things more complicated. Different ages. Different classes. Different worlds. Yet Gregory couldn’t stay away. That morning, as the sun glowed gently over the gardens, he spotted her hurrying down the path—arms full of papers, hair pinned loosely, determination in every step. He felt his grin grow, mischief blooming. He plucked a flower before she could pass, stepping into her path with all the confidence he could muster. “A morning flower for a beautiful girl,” he announced, offering it to her with a dramatic bow.

Carlos Sainz

It’s his first day in Tarbena. His eyes looking around the house, it’s… A big house but for five person and with him become six person live here… it’s too small. He is a *prince* and he must stay with them for three months here, Carlos’s eyes who keep looking around, suddenly look at the door, there is a girl with dirty and wet clothes get inside the house. “Your highness, this is our second child, she will help you learn how to taking care of the farm.” The father said to Carlos.

Carlos Sainz

🏎 | He got penalty

Joe Goldberg

📸 | You’re crazier than him

Carlos Sainz

🏎 | Anyone but you - but make it F1

Carlos Sainz

🏎 | He is F1 driver and you are Hollywood star

Conrad Fisher

Everyone was gathered around the table at the seaside restaurant, laughter mixing with the scent of saltwater and grilled shrimp. The sunset painted the windows golden, and the mood was light—almost perfect. Conrad had just arrived back in Cousins for summer break, freshly out of another brutal semester in med school. His presence alone seemed to lift everyone’s spirits. “Well, we have our future doctor back,” Adam said, raising his glass with a smirk. “And then there’s our super senior—Jeremiah. Still trying to figure out his major, huh?” The sarcasm wasn’t subtle. It never was when it came to Jeremiah. You glanced at your boyfriend. He looked tense, lips pressed in a thin line. You reached under the table and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze before speaking. “Actually,” you began, voice steady but soft, “Jeremiah has a bright future. And we—” you took a breath, ignoring how his eyes silently begged you to stop, “we’re getting married this August.” Silence. The room dropped into a stunned hush. Laurel’s wine glass paused midair. Steven choked on his water. Adam froze, his jaw slightly unhinged. But it was Conrad’s face that broke you. He wasn’t shocked—he looked wrecked. Like something inside him had cracked in half. He looked at you like he was watching the love of his life slip through his fingers. “What?” Laurel said, her voice sharp. “Are you being serious right now? Since when?” “We’ve been talking about it,” you said, trying to sound firm even as your stomach twisted. “And what exactly are you giving her, Jere?” Adam sneered. “Love? That’s not going to pay the rent. Or does Daddy still fund your romantic ideas?” Jeremiah bristled. “We love each other.” “And we want to build a life together,” you added, your voice rising with conviction. “Are you pregnant?” Laurel snapped. “Because you can love someone and not get married. Move in together. Get a cat. That’s more responsible than this.” “No! I’m not pregnant,” you shot back. “We just want to commit. We want this.” A long silence stretched. Conrad finally sighed, taking a slow sip of his champagne, as if trying to swallow everything he was feeling. “You knew about this?” Steven asked him, staring hard. Conrad shook his head. “No,” he murmured. “I didn’t.”

Lorenzo De Santoro

Aurora Hart couldn’t remember the last time the world had felt safe. The black car glided slowly through the glittering streets of London that night, a fine mist of rain clinging to the windows, blurring the neon glow of luxury boutiques and high-end restaurants. Her hands were bound in front of her, a black silk ribbon tied around her wrists—soft to the touch, yet it felt like iron shackles. In the front seats, two men in immaculate suits sat in silence, neither sparing her a glance. Aurora knew this wasn’t just a kidnapping. The way they were dressed, their calm demeanor, the unmarked car… it was all far too professional. She stared at her reflection in the glass: the white satin gown she had worn to the charity gala felt like a cruel joke now. Her heels were missing, her dark brown hair was tousled, and the red lipstick she’d applied hours ago had faded. From the outside, she could have passed for another spoiled socialite drunk after a party. But Aurora knew better. She wasn’t drunk. She was being dragged into the very world her father had spent years shielding her from. All because of the Hart name. The car stopped in front of a grand European-style mansion towering over the city skyline. The house was like a museum: marble pillars, towering iron gates, and a glittering chandelier visible through the front windows. But there was something else about it—something that made Aurora’s spine prickle. The house was beautiful, yes. But it felt like a lion’s den. A man dressed in black opened the car door. “Miss Hart,” he said, his voice smooth and heavy with an Italian accent. Polite words, but his eyes were cold. Aurora’s voice came out hoarse. “Where are you taking me?” He didn’t answer. He only gestured for her to step out. Her footsteps echoed against polished marble floors as she entered the mansion. The air smelled expensive, a mix of floral perfume and cigar smoke. The hallway was lined with portraits of aristocratic faces, but there was something off about it—men in dark suits stood like statues in every corner, their presence heavy, watchful. And at the end of that hall, there he was. Lorenzo De Santoro. Aurora had only ever heard his name whispered at charity galas and board meetings—rumors of a man so powerful that even politicians bowed their heads. The heir to the largest crime syndicate in Europe. But it had always sounded like a dark fairy tale… until tonight. He sat casually in a sleek black leather chair that looked more like a modern throne. His tailored black suit was flawless, his silk tie perfect. His jet-black hair was combed back effortlessly, his features striking. Handsome. Dangerous. But his eyes… they were sharp, like the edge of a knife. When their gazes met, Aurora felt something strange ripple through her—a cocktail of fear, anger, and… curiosity. “Miss Hart.” His voice was deep, calm, laced with a faint Italian accent. “At last, I get to see the face of Judge Thomas Hart’s daughter.”

River Stewart

“Thank you so much for making the effort to come all the way from New York. It’s quite a journey, isn’t it?” River said, his tone casual, his eyes never leaving the stack of student papers in front of him as he rolled up his sleeves. She watched him in silence, waiting for more, but he seemed focused—until he finally glanced up, adjusting his glasses with a firm, almost dismissive expression. “But I’m retired,” he added. “I moved here because I want to live like a normal person.” For a man in his forties, he still looked unbelievably young—and, admittedly, hot.

Loak Sully

“Skxwang,” he called, using his favorite nickname for her. Lo’ak and Aurora had never truly been allies. Since childhood, they had been locked in an endless cycle of provocation and retaliation—he made her cry more times than either of them could count, and she, in return, never failed to test his patience until his temper finally snapped. Their bond was sharp-edged and messy, forged through years of bickering, stubborn pride, and emotions neither of them ever dared to name. “I saw you with that Metkayina guy,” Lo’ak said as he fell into step beside her. His tone was casual—too casual—but there was something in his expression that betrayed him. A crease between his brows. A tightness in his jaw. Worry lingered there, unmistakable, tangled with something far more dangerous. Jealousy. “He’s ugly and annoying, right?” he added, glancing sideways at her as if daring her to disagree. Aurora didn’t answer immediately. Lo’ak scoffed and rolled his eyes, breaking the silence himself. “Anyway, I don’t care what you think about Rotxo,” he muttered, a little too quickly. “I just think he’s weird.” The words were careless, thrown out like they meant nothing—but the way his gaze lingered, sharp and restless, told an entirely different story.

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