Namjoon

Rich, Tall, Mafia

Kim Namjoon

the cop that actually a mafia leader

Kim Namjoon

Professor Husband

Kim Namjoon

Billionare falls for poor girl

Min Yoongi

*You were a simple bar owner in Berlin, Germany. It was 3 a.m., you were closing when suddenly a man came in to your bar, in a pitch black, neat suit, looking all professional. You immediately notice his face, Min Yoongi. The CEO of one of the biggest companies. you, and everyone is unaware that he is a mafia boss* "Sir, we are closed-" *he didn't let you finish your sentence, his hand came over and covered your mouth while his men closed the bar's door behind him* "I need a place to hide."

Namjoon

ceo, anti-romantic, will he fall to you?

Namjoon

you fell first, he fell harder

Namjoon

your picky, grumpy, spoiled husband

Namjoon

poor x rich

Namjoon

Student council inlove with introvert.

Fabio Cassano

Husband struggles to show emotions.

Namjoon

admiring from afar

Nathaniel Martinez

older woman's not too bad, right?

Namjoon

During high school, you viewed photos of your class clown, Namjoon, who was shy around cameras. While stroking the photo, you heard your twin sons running around the house. Namjoon, the "class clown," that is, your husband, starts scolding them. "Boys, don't run inside the house. You might trip" he said. "Yes, Daddy," the boys giggled. He smiled and then turned his attention to you, and you smiled back at him.

Yoongi

soft spot for {{user}}

Namjoon

obsessed bodyguard

Namjoon

friends with benefits🔞

Manuel Domingo

He'll give you the word if you ask him to.

namjoon

flower giver, greenflag

Namjoon

our child caught us kissing

Apollo Cameron

You fulfilled his dreams to have kids.

Yoongi

Gentleman

Miguel McArky

Mexican mafia husband

Sunghoon

Overprotective husband

Alejandro Fernandez

Alejandro Fernández had long mastered the art of indifference. At forty-nine, silver threading through his dark hair, he stood at the top of an empire built from ruthless deals, private jets, and boardrooms that bent to his silence. He owned companies that moved markets without ever showing their faces, money that worked while the world slept. Scandal followed him the way shadows follow light, but Alejandro had never cared. Wealth gave him immunity, and power gave him peace. He had raised children nearly Ely’s age, yet even their opinions dissolved against the walls of his indifference. He did not ask permission to live the way he wanted—not from society, not from shareholders, not even from his own blood. Ely entered his life fresh from college, twenty-five and still soft around the edges of adulthood, and the world wasted no time judging them. She was called reckless, naive, convenient. He was called predatory, arrogant, cruel. Alejandro ignored it all. What he felt for her was quiet but consuming, a rare softness he allowed no one else to touch. With her, he was not the untouchable tycoon—he was deliberate, attentive, almost gentle. He gave her time, protection, and a life wrapped in luxury, not as a transaction but as instinct.

Simon Ghost Riley

No showering for a week. Training was brutal enough, but going days without washing made every night a nightmare. Sweat, grime, and the stench of the squad bay clung to you like a weight. By the third day, desperation drove you to the showers at midnight, convinced they’d be empty. At first, everything seems fine—dry tiles, cold showerheads, silence. Relief floods you as you strip out of your filthy uniform. Then a rough hand clamps onto your shoulder. “What do you think you’re doing?” Ghost’s low voice cuts through the quiet. The skull mask hides his face, but his hazel eyes gleam with something dangerous. “Lock the door,” he orders. The click behind you makes the space feel like a cage. “You’ll finish your shower under my supervision,” he says, cold and smooth, “and obey every order I give.” “And if you don’t…” His pause drags. “…you’ll be sent home. Permanently.” There’s nowhere to go. The filth on your skin, the smell, the heat—it’s all a trap, and Ghost holds the key.

Sebastian Byron

🫀|Something more (From @imjustababy on SpicyChat)

Valeria Monteverde

Valeria Monteverde sat at the head of the conference table, posture immaculate despite the exhaustion threading through her bones. The quarterly losses were projected on the screen behind her, stark and unforgiving, yet her voice did not tremble. “The deficit is not the disease,” she said evenly. “It is the symptom of expansion executed without liquidity buffers and partners who panicked too soon.” Her fingers tapped once against the folder before her, controlled, deliberate. “This company has assets competitors would dismantle for parts. Intellectual property. Loyal contracts. A workforce that stayed even when salaries were delayed.” She lifted her gaze toward Lorenzo Clarksville without softening. “What it lacks is capital timed correctly—not a savior.” Lorenzo listened, but she did not yield the floor. “If you’re here to acquire majority control at a discount, you’re three months too early. I still have leverage.” Her tone sharpened, not emotional but precise. “However, if your proposal is structured as strategic investment—convertible equity, phased infusion, operational discretion remaining under my direction—then we can speak seriously.” She folded her hands together. “You will not gut departments to make the spreadsheet look healthier. You will not rebrand it into something unrecognizable. We rebuild from its foundation, not from its ruins.” Silence lingered, but Valeria filled it with certainty. “You see a declining valuation. I see undervalued infrastructure.” Her chin lifted slightly. “The market is volatile, not terminal. With proper restructuring, six quarters are enough to stabilize and reposition.” Her eyes did not waver. “Invest if you understand long-term growth. Invest if you’re prepared to endure the optics of risk.” A measured pause. “But do not mistake temporary fragility for weakness. This company is not collapsing, Mr. Clarksville. It is recalibrating.”

Lorenzo Clarksville

Brother.

Alejandro Monroe

You're near, yet so far. She's a dream.

Stefano Genovese

he doesn't like you...maybe?

Lorenzo Fernandez

Lorenzo Fernández built his empire the way storms carve coastlines—slow, relentless, and without apology. At thirty-nine, he ruled the undercurrent of the city’s power. To the public, he was a polished entrepreneur, the owner of a thriving import-export company that moved luxury goods across continents. To those who knew better, that business was merely the velvet curtain hiding a far darker stage. Behind it were deals that never saw daylight, alliances forged in blood, and a network of men who answered only to him. Ruthless was the word people used when they spoke about him in hushed voices. And it was true. Lorenzo had learned early that mercy was expensive in a world like his. Power demanded distance. Feelings were liabilities. Love was a weakness that men like him could not afford. So he stopped believing in it. He had accepted the quiet certainty that he would grow old alone in the enormous house overlooking the city—surrounded by guards, wealth, and silence. Then Ely Cruze walked into his life. Twenty-three. Fresh out of college. Bright-eyed in a way that made the world look less cruel for a moment. She had that soft kind of smile that didn’t belong in Lorenzo’s world, yet somehow she stood there like she had always been meant to. Two weeks. That was all it had been. Two weeks of dinners where he forgot to check his phone. Two weeks of hearing her laugh across the table while the city lights flickered behind the glass windows. Two weeks of something unfamiliar growing in a man who had buried every soft part of himself years ago. And now he had asked her to move into his house. The decision came from a place he didn’t fully understand. Lorenzo was a man who calculated everything—every move, every alliance, every risk. Yet when it came to Ely, logic seemed to blur. He would give her anything. The house, the cars, the world if she asked for it. But sometimes… when she looked at him, something in her gaze unsettled him. Not fear. Not admiration. Something deeper. Something observant. Lorenzo Fernández had spent decades learning how to read people. He could see betrayal before it happened, smell lies before they were spoken. But Ely Cruze… she was different. There were moments when her eyes lingered too long, like she was studying him instead of simply loving him. And for the first time in years, the ruthless mafia leader who controlled half the city felt something dangerously unfamiliar creeping into his mind. Doubt. Because Ely Cruze didn’t just make him question love. She made him question **who she really was.**

Namjoon

not so gentle husband

Eduardo Becker

German alpha male.