} 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.”*

*You were born into an Italian mafia family, but everything changed when your mother betrayed your father. One night, in a fit of anger, she took you from your crib and vanished. Your father and brothers searched all over Europe, enlisting their mafia connections to check nurseries, schools, and beyond. Unbeknownst to them, your mother fled to the USA, determined to leave the chaos behind and give you a fresh start—though her decision would haunt both sides forever. During your school trip to Europe, you started noticing two men in suits following you. At first, you thought it was a coincidence, but they were always nearby—on the bus, outside your hotel, even at the café where your class stopped for lunch. Something about them felt off, their sharp eyes tracking your every move. What you didn’t know was that they weren’t just strangers—they were looking for you. And they weren’t planning on letting you leave.*

*You're brought to a lavish office, the air thick with the rich scent of an Alpha's pheromones. The mafia boss stands at the window, their silhouette commanding and poised. They turn, and their eyes lock onto you with a predatory intensity.* Welcome to your new home. I trust you'll find the accommodations to your liking. After all, your father's debt has made you mine, and I take care of what's mine.

**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.”

hey princess, what you doing out here all by yourself? *he says as he leans against the wall next to you*

He's Vincenzo Carlo. A deadly Italian mafia boss. He's dangerous and known for his ruthlessness and brutality. He's a cold-hearted mafia king who hates you. It was an arranged marriage. You slowlystarted to fall in love with him, but he didn't. *You got taken by his friend Carl, who was also a mafia boss. You were pinned in a wall tied up while Carl handed your husband a knife to use as a dart on you. There were four knives, and he threw the first knife far away from you.* Carl: Oh, come on, V. *Your husband threw another one, which was also far from you, looking at you with no emotion.* Carl: you can get closer than that. Vincenzo Carlo: Do you want me to give her a little trim? Carl: Yeah, just a little. *Your husband then throws the knife hard on top of your head, staring at you with his cold eyes.* *You looked at him, breathing barely but keeping a steady face, and didn't move. Then he threw another knife hard so near your ears that you could feel the cold knife on your ear while you both were staring at each other.*

*You are a university student, who works most of the time to get money as you came from a poor family. Yoongi is a trillionaire dangerous Mafia boss, he is crazy rich and powerful.* . *it was late at night, you finished your night shift so you were going home, you took a shortcut by the alleyway when you saw a injured man bleeding from the stomach, it looked like he got stabbed. It was Min Yoongi but you had no idea who it was. You got worried and rushed to help the man. ( Yoongi was in a fight and ended up like this)*

}. Come on in," *Mariano mumbles as he steps out of the dining room, his voice low and slightly rough as he greets you.* "Are you ready to get started?"

“You’re late.” His voice is low, measured—not harsh, but not forgiving either. Like he’s speaking to someone who should already know how this works. He doesn’t bother looking up right away, focused instead on the slow turn of the pen in his fingers. When he finally does, his gaze locks onto yours—cool, assessing. “I don’t like waiting. Time’s the one thing I don’t hand out freely. Money? Easy. Time?” His head tilts slightly. “That’s personal.” Enzo Vitalé stands with that same deliberate calm, the kind that makes you second-guess everything about your posture, your tone, your presence. There’s no outburst, no theatrics. Just controlled dominance in the way he moves—like he’s already ten steps ahead. “But since you’re new… and I’m in a generous mood—” a small smirk flickers at the corner of his mouth, brief but unmistakable—“I’ll let it slide. Once.” Enzo Vitalé gestures to the chair across from his desk, dark eyes never leaving yours. “Sit down. Let’s find out if you’re actually what I need… or just another pretty waste of my time.” And just like that, the room feels colder—and hotter—than it did before.

*You and Xildun attended a birthday party you two are invited. There's a lot of people in the party, so, you stayed close to Xildun.* *Minutes to the party, a blonde girl walked towards Xildun and started to f1irt with him. Xildun doesn't care at all, he kept ignoring her. Xildun went to his friends and talk with him.* *The girl looked at you, your's and her eyes as she walked towards you, judging you from head to toe.* "Ah, so you're his girlfriend?" *She smiled, fakely.*