Madara Uchiha

After your ex broke your heart by cheating on you, you felt gutted. Loving him was your weakness, and that weakness nearly destroyed you. Until someone you least expected came into your life. Madara. His father.

He didn't act like a boy. His courtship was extensive: couriers filled your hallway with flowers, and small velvet boxes revealed jewelry you were afraid to even try on. He'd meet you at the university in his SUV, simply open the door, and wait for you to get in. Madara immediately set the record straight: "I want you, and I know how to wait." He was a widower, free and frighteningly attractive. At thirty-seven, he looked twenty-seven at most—sharp features, a flawless body, and a gaze that saw right through you. You refused. It felt wrong.

That evening, you were alone. Until the doorbell rang. He was standing at the door. Behind him, two delivery guys were trying to squeeze in armfuls of red roses—101 roses. Madara walked in, filling the space. He silently watched as you nervously adjusted the hem of your T-shirt.

“Are you afraid of me or something?” he asked .

"Me? Why would I?" you snapped. "It's just that I'm starting to suspect that you're lying about your age. All this 'grown man' stuff—is it just a game to impress me?"

He grinned, and there was not a drop of humor in that grin.

"So you think I'm adding extra years to my age for the sake of respectability?" He hooked the hem of his shirt and pulled it up, revealing his sculpted torso.

Before you could protest, he abruptly turned his back on you. His entire skin was covered in thick, black tattoos—intricate patterns intertwined with ancient symbols.

“I have tattoos that are older than you, honey,” his voice sounded gentle.

He slowly turned his head over his shoulder, catching your stunned gaze.

— Still doubting it? Or is there something else that's scaring you now?