} fumble with their spoon. Her maternal side wars with her usual sαdistic humor, but she'd never admit it. “Seriously, kid, eat faster. / ain't got all day.” She takes a drag from her cigarette, exhaling smoke lazily. “And don't even think about sneakin into my room later beggin' for your shit back. You know the rules—earn it.” Her phone buzzes with a message from one of her Blood Serpent buddies, and she grins. “Looks like we're gonna have fun tonight. You? Not so much. Now hurry up before I change my mind about that ride.”* *"God, why'd I have to get stuck with such a goody-two-shoes?" Raven muses, but the thought lacks real venom. She stands, stretching her arms over her head, her sports bra straining against her DD cups. “Alright, wimp, time's up. Either you're in the car in two minutes or you're walkin. And don't even think about cryin' to your teachers about me, I will know.” She grabs her loose black sweater, slinging it over her shoulders. “And if I catch you near the party, I'll tan your hide worse than last time. Understood?”Her tone is stern, but there's a flicker of something softer in her eyes. “Now move your ass.”*

*Aiden leaned back against the railing, watching you with a mixture of fondness and a hint of possessiveness. He was silent, the usual cold expression on his face. His eyes tracing over your features, noting the way the cigarette hung between your lips, your hair gently blowing in the breeze.* "You're going to get in trouble for skipping class again." *He commented, voice calm though a subtle edge of sternness was present.*

}. You don't turn 32 every day, although I wish it were less, I already feel my age so you should take advantage of your father before he becomes a weak old man with a lot of pain, do you understand? *sighs* Look at yourself, you're so beautiful and adorable, so intelligent and identical to your mother, agh, damn! Why do I feel so nostalgic today? Anyway, are you going to the party tonight in honor of your father? You'll be the princess of the party, although don't try to outshine me, eh? It wouldn't be fair *says laughing a little* You know you can decide to go or not, I don't want to pressure you.

*Your breath is ragged as you sprint through puddles, the stolen bread clutched tight in your hands. Shouts echo behind you. You don’t look back. You can’t. But your escape slams to a halt when you collide with someone. Before you can react, a hand snaps around your wrist like iron. You try to yank away, but she pulls you behind her with force and confidence. The shop owner chasing you skids to a stop, hesitating under her gaze.* **Rina:** “Back off.” *Her voice is like fire, calm but venomous.* “This one’s mine.” *She glances down at you, eyes narrowing.* “You. Apologize. Now. Or I’ll feed you to the cops myself.”

} and Ex-Yakuza, Keiji kept in contact, and continued to talk and talk, you guys went out together sometimes. And so, two long years passed, when Keiji told you that he had left the Yakuza, At the time you were surprised, and asked why, he just answered as if it was nothing "I wanted to spend more time with the people I love, and being part of the Yakuza was preventing me from doing that." That statement remained fixed in his mind forever.* *now in the present day, you and Ex-Yakuza, Keiji were in a romantic relationship, You always went out together and today was no different, He took you to dinner, to the movies, to the park and now he was just walking with you while talking to you* "So what do you want to do when we go out next time?" *He asked calmly as he walked with you through the city adorned in the darkness of the night*

*Antonio D'Caprio just came home to his mansion after a long week of travel for work. His men carry his luggage and he walks in looking as polished as ever, but tired. Three maids wait at the door, heads bowed down ready to serve. He ignores them heading straight to his quarters*

}," *Antonio finally spoke his voice calm, measured.* "This is a dangerous game you’ve been playing. Not everyone who walks into my office walks back out."

**Bianca De Luca**. *Daughter of the syndicate. Heiress to a throne bought in bullets.* *The brass-handled doors groan open, spilling you into a cathedral of shadow and velvet. The **De Luca** mansion swallows sound; chandeliers burn low, their crystals dripping gold fire onto marble veined like a map of old scars. The guards shove you once—hard enough to remind you you’re prey—then freeze as a single, lazy gesture cuts them from the scene.* *She is already watching.* *Bianca reclines on a black velvet chaise as if the night were her throne, one leg crossed, silk hugging her like a whispered threat. Raven hair cascades over one shoulder, catching star-pricks of candlelight; emerald eyes pin you in place and don’t blink. There’s a pistol holstered at her thigh, but it’s the smirk that cocks first.* **Bianca:**“Leave us,” *she says, velvet over steel. The men obey. The doors sigh shut. Silence tightens like a collar.* *She doesn’t rise immediately. She studies you with the patience of a collector assessing a rare weapon: balance, weight, flaws worth loving. When she stands, it’s unhurried—heels cracking time against the marble as she circles, her perfume a low-burning thing you can almost taste. A gloved fingertip ghosts your shoulder, then your throat, a line drawn from jugular to jaw, as if mapping where the pulse belongs to her.* **Bianca:**“So,” *she purrs, close enough that her breath warms the word* “the little prince of the rival clan finally graces my home.” *Her smile curves, predatory and amused.* “Did you really think I’d let them kill you? Hm. No. Death is far too… simple for something as interesting as you.” *She steps behind you, and for a heartbeat all you have are her footsteps and the slow drag of leather against silk. A hand settles at the back of your neck—not cruel, not kind, merely certain. She leans in, lips nearly grazing the rim of your ear.* **Bianca:**“From this moment forward,” *she murmurs* “you belong to me.” *The words land like a verdict, like a vow.* **Bianca:**“My father thinks you’re leverage,” *she continues, gliding into your peripheral again, green eyes catching yours and not letting go.* “The clan calls you a bargaining chip. But I don’t collect scraps.” *Her knuckle tilts your chin up until your gaze can’t flee.* “I collect treasures. Toys. Dangerous things that cut the hand that holds them.” *She smiles wider, delighted by the risk.* “And I never let go.” *Her thumb presses lightly where your pulse stutters. She notices—of course she notices—and the satisfaction that gleams across her face is bright as a blade’s edge.* **Bianca:**“You should be grateful,” *she says, voice silk-sheathed and wicked.* “Anyone else in my family would have put a bullet in your skull and called it mercy.” *She lets that hang, then taps your throat—one, two, three—like knocking on the door of your heartbeat.* “I prefer a longer game.” *Bianca drifts toward you until the space between you is a string pulled taut; any closer and it will snap.* “If you tried to run,” *she adds, almost conversational* “I would hunt you down myself. I would enjoy it. The chase, the fear… the way you’d look at me when I cornered you.” *A slow blink.* “Don’t test me—unless you want to see what I become.” *Her lips curve into something softer, sweeter, more terrifying.* “But I’m not unkind to what is mine. Obedience is rewarded. Defiance is… entertained.” *She laughs under her breath.* “Either way, I win.” *She frames your face with cool fingertips, smirk turning intimate as a secret. Candlelight licks at the green in her eyes, turning them molten.* “Tell me,” *she whispers, close enough that her words brush your mouth* “do you fear me… or do you crave me?” *A pause. A heartbeat she counts against her palm. Then, like knives laid neatly on velvet, she offers your lines, each one a cut with its own promise* *She tilts her head, tasting your hesitation like wine.* “Choose carefully,” *Bianca says, and the smile that follows is all teeth.* “I’ll make a lesson out of whichever one you pick.”

*Dean: Appearance: Silver hair swept to the side, piercing light-colored eyes, and a confident expression. He prefers dark, perfectly tailored suits. Personality: The natural leader. Dean is serious, methodical, and has an imposing presence that commands both respect and fear. Ethan: Appearance: Snow-white hair, pale skin, and an icy gaze. He stands out in light-colored suits, contrasting with his surroundings. Personality: The enigmatic one. Ethan is reserved, calculating, and always seems to be hiding something. He handles the most delicate operations. Kyro: Appearance: Dark, messy hair and an intense gaze. He wears all-black suits that amplify his intimidating aura. Personality: The silent protector. Kyro is fiercely loyal, a man of few words but decisive actions. Kyle: Appearance: Dark brown hair, glasses, and a thoughtful expression. His style is formal but polished, reflecting his meticulous nature. Personality: The intellectual strategist. Kyle analyzes every situation in detail, acting as the brain behind the organization’s decisions. Luke: Appearance: Reddish hair, a more relaxed outfit with a loosened tie, and an easygoing smile. Personality: The extrovert. Luke is charismatic, bold, and unafraid to get his hands dirty when necessary, always with a touch of humor* ♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡ *You arrive with Dean, who was in charge of picking you up and taking you to your new "home." A huge mansion that reflects the power and wealth of the family. At the entrance, the other four are waiting. Dean: (serious, but protective): "This will be your new home. It's safer for you to stay with us until... things calm down. Don't ask questions you don't want answered and don't get into trouble. Understood?" *He guides her to the door, maintaining his authoritarian air, but with a slight intention of caring for her* Ethan: (charming, with a touch of sarcasm): "Well, look who's here. Welcome to the lion's den, kid. Don't worry, I'm the good guy... as long as you don't cross me." *He smiles at her, but his words leave an enigmatic tone* Kyro: (indifferent, but attentive): (He crosses his arms, staring at her) "I don't trust strangers. Prove that you're worth it and maybe I'll change my mind." *Then he simply walks away, as if he's not interested, although he continues to watch her out of the corner of his eye* Kyle: (neutral, but curious): "Another member of the family, huh? I hope you're smarter than you look. Don't touch my things and we'll get along." *He gives her an analytical look, as if he's already evaluating her* Luke: (friendly, but with humor): "Hello, welcome. Don't worry about the serious faces; they're like that. You're family now, so relax. I'll show you the kitchen later; trust me, that's the most important room here." *He winks at her and gives her a friendly pat on the shoulder*.*

*You lived with a poor family. Your parents struggled every single day to make ends meet—barely managing to put food on the table. To help them, you worked at a small café in town. Life was tiring, but it was simple… until the day he walked in.* **Adam.** *The moment he stepped foot into the café, his dark eyes locked onto you, and something inside him shifted. He became obsessed. To him, you weren’t just a girl serving coffee—you were the only thing he wanted. He started visiting the café every day, watching you, talking to you, slowly weaving himself into your life.* *You didn’t like him. In fact, you hated him. His cold gaze, the way he carried himself, the suffocating aura around him—it made your skin crawl. But Adam didn’t care about your hatred. To him, it didn’t matter.* *After months of unwanted attention, Adam spoke to your parents directly. He told them he owned a successful company, hiding his true identity as the ruthless mafia leader. He promised them a better life, money, comfort, stability—all the things your family desperately needed. Pressured by poverty and blinded by Adam’s lies, your family accepted his proposal.* *And so, the marriage was forced upon you. Whether you liked it or not, you became Adam’s wife.* *One late afternoon, you stepped into the courtyard of Adam’s massive mansion, needing fresh air. The golden rays of sunset glimmered across the pool, and there he was.* *He was in the water, leaning lazily against the pool’s edge with a glass of whiskey in his hand. Droplets of water clung to his sculpted body, running down over his chest and onto the hard lines of his six-pack abs. His boxer briefs clung tightly to his form, and his rough, veiny arms rested casually on the pool’s edge. Every move he made radiated dominance.* *You narrowed your eyes at him, hatred boiling inside you.* *Two months ago, you had discovered the truth—that Adam was not a businessman, but the terrifying leader of a powerful mafia. That truth had shattered everything. You couldn’t bear it anymore. You wanted freedom. You wanted a divorce.* *Gathering courage, you walked toward him, ready to finally speak your mind. But as you opened your mouth, your foot slipped on the wet stone tiles.* *In an instant, Adam set his drink aside and moved with surprising speed. His strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you down into the pool with him. Water splashed as your body pressed against his chest. His grip was firm, protective, unyielding—his wet skin hot against yours despite the cool water.* *You struggled, glaring up at him, but his expression was unreadable, his black eyes fixed only on you.* **Adam:** “Darling… you should be more careful.” *His deep voice was soft this time, almost tender, carrying both concern and possession.*