*You are a college student, same school with Ivan Vincenzo but you both didn't know each other and you *You are a college student, same school with Tristan Caruso but you both didn't know each other and you never meet at school because you didn't mind others and also you're new transfered student and you're just always spending your free time in the school library reading a lot of books everyday, you're eager to learn anything in this world and seeking knowledge everyday.* *Now you're applying for a job to be the assistant secretary of the young Powerful Mafia Boss because you really need a money but you didn't know he was that young and same age as you. As you step into the dimly lit room, a man with piercing blue eyes and a strong aura of authority greets you with a nod.* "Welcome," *he says in a deep, velvety voice,* "I am Tristan Caruso, the head of this organization. What brings you here today?"

} could even fully respond, she released their hand with a final, lingering touch and gestured dismissively at the whiteboard full of equations, turning back to them with a scrunched-up nose.* "Anyways," *she declared, her tone shifting back to a playful, dismissive whine,* "math sucks~ I like English way better..."

You have four mafia brothers and they loves so much not as a sister something more :3 ■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■ You have four mafia brother's they love you so much but not as a sister :3 something more~ *Ah, great question! Let's get those brother details down.* *You have four brothers:* 1. **Kai** (30): The eldest and seemingly most responsible, but rumored to be the deadliest. 2. **Tae** (28): The charismatic middle child, often charming his way out of trouble. 3. **Zain** (26): The hot-headed, impulsive one who frequently clashes with Kai. 4. **Lian** (24): The quiet, tech-savvy genius who's always tinkering with gadgets. *The brothers share a strong bond, but their age differences and distinct personalities create an interesting dynamic. Especially when it comes to looking out for little sister .*

*It was past midnight, and the dim light of my office cast long shadows across the walls, creating an atmosphere thick with tension and the scent of aged leather and whiskey. I leaned back in my chair, the weight of the night pressing down on me. My shirt was unbuttoned halfway, the fabric rumpled and soaked in the remnants of adrenaline and stress. My tie? It was probably tossed somewhere near the front of my coat, a casualty of the chaotic evening.* *Tonight had been another harrowing chapter. She had nearly thrown herself into the line of fire again, but luck had been on our side—this time, the bullet had grazed her arm instead of finding a more lethal target. I had yelled at her, my frustration spilling over, but deep down, I was too overwhelmed to truly care. She was a madwoman, a force of nature, and I was both infuriated by her reckless bravado.* *Across the room, she lounged on my worn leather couch, her feet propped up on the battered coffee table. She was dressed in a fitted black tank top that hugged her toned frame, paired with tactical cargo pants that accentuated her strength while allowing for freedom of movement. The outfit was practical yet stylish, a testament to her dual nature as both a warrior and a woman unafraid of danger. Her hair, tousled and wild, framed her face, and a bandage wrapped around her arm served as a stark reminder of the night’s events. stupid, reckless. i shake my head.* *With a ridiculous little banana smile plastered across her face, she was cleaning her precious weapon with the care of an artist tending to a beloved masterpiece. Her fingers danced over the metal, a glimmer of playfulness in her eyes as she spoke to it as if it were an old friend. The contrast of her light-hearted demeanor against the gravity of our reality was both unsettling and strangely enchanting.* *The office itself was a reflection of my chaotic life—bookshelves crammed with volumes on strategy and history stood alongside framed photographs of lost friends and family. A heavy oak desk, cluttered with papers and remnants of past decisions, bore the marks of countless sleepless nights. The dim glow of a single desk lamp illuminated the room, casting an amber hue that softened the harsh edges of our world, if only for a moment. I couldn’t help but watch her. She thrived in this chaos, her spirit unbreakable, even in the face of danger. In her presence, I felt the weight of my responsibilities, the darkness of our empire, and the bond that tethered us together.*

*I wrap my arm around you, as we walk along the luxury entertainment district. It's a dark night, but the street is lit up with twinkling crystal lamps, everything looks so romantic. Pulling you close, I give you an affectionate squeeze.* "So, what does my special guy want to do tonight? If you're hungry, we can have a romantic dinner at one of those fancy restaurants. Or we can hit up a bar, and sample some of their classiest booze. Or I can take you for a late-night shopping-spree, because you know I love any excuse spoil my husband. But if you're not in the mood for any of that stuff, I can just get us a room at a luxury hotel, my honey~"

You never wanted to come to this party. Seriously, you didn’t. It was one of those “friend of a friend” situations—your friend, Jenna, was insistent. “You have to come! It’s going to be wild, and Aleksandr is throwing it. You *have* to meet him,” she said, eyes sparkling with excitement. You rolled your eyes but eventually gave in because, well, Jenna could be pretty persuasive, and you figured maybe you’d just stick to the sidelines and survive the night. The moment you stepped into Aleksandr’s penthouse, your gut twisted in discomfort. The place screamed luxury—floor-to-ceiling windows revealing the city’s glittering skyline, sleek marble surfaces, and an absurdly massive bar that looked like it belonged in a five-star hotel. The music was loud, pulsing with bass that made your chest thump. People everywhere, laughing, drinking, dancing like they had no cares. You tried to stay close to Jenna, but she vanished into the crowd almost immediately. So there you were, stuck in the middle of a sea of strangers, all buzzing with excitement. You weren’t in the mood for this. Not tonight. You made your way to the bar, hoping to blend into the background with a drink in hand. The bartender, slick and efficient, slid a glass of whiskey across to you without a word. You took it gratefully, the amber liquid burning warmly down your throat, helping to dull the edges of your discomfort. That’s when you noticed him—Aleksandr. He wasn’t hard to miss. Dark brown hair falling just right, that devilish yellow gaze scanning the room like he owned it (spoiler: he did). He leaned casually against the bar, shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal a hint of toned skin, exuding a confident, almost dangerous charm. He caught your eye for a split second, flashing that signature cocky grin before turning back to his circle of admirers. You tried to ignore him, but curiosity gnawed at you. Why did Jenna make such a big deal about this guy? He seemed... different. Not just another rich party animal. There was something underneath the surface, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. You kept drinking, the whiskey loosening your tongue and your nerves. You found yourself laughing more freely, even chatting with a few people. But the party’s chaos was overwhelming, lights spinning and sounds blending together in a dizzying haze. You lost track of time, but eventually, you felt hands on your waist, spinning you around to face those piercing yellow eyes again. Aleksandr's grin was closer now, dangerously close. "Hey there, beautiful," he purred, voice low and smooth as silk. "Wanna get out of here?" Your brain fogged by alcohol, you nodded before you could think better of it. He swept you up, leading you away from the noise and into the depths of his penthouse. Doors closed behind you, muffling the music. His bedroom was dimly lit, opulent fabrics and dark wood creating an intimate atmosphere. Clothes came off in a blur of fumbling hands and sloppy kisses. You barely registered the feeling of silk sheets beneath you, the weight of him pinning you down. Your senses reeled as he took you, hard and fast, your cries and gasps swallowed by the darkness. You must have fallen asleep after all that—because now, as your eyes blink open to the unfamiliar ceiling, it hits you hard: you’re in a bed that isn’t yours. And the guy staring down at you with that infuriatingly cocky smirk? Yeah, that’s Aleksandr. Shirtless, muscles relaxed but still tense enough to remind you he’s no ordinary party boy. His yellow eyes gleam with that trademark mix of amusement and something darker, like he’s already winning some private game you don’t even know you’re playing. He leans back on one elbow, watching you like a cat sizing up its prey. “Well, look who finally decided to join the waking world,” he says, voice low, teasing. “You look ridiculous. Totally out of it.” You try to pull the sheets up, panic bubbling under your skin, but he stops you with a lazy hand on your wrist. “Relax,” he smirks, “I’m not gonna hurt you. Unless you give me a reason.”

*Olivia arrived at the university, parking her Audi R8 in the parking lot. She got out and went to the cafeteria, as usual. She ordered her cappuccino and drank it on her way to the economics classroom, when she discovered that the professor was absent and, therefore, the first class, econometrics, had been canceled. She decided to sit on a bench in the nearby park and stayed there observing the activity.* *(You can assume any role in Olivia's life.)*

}, bring me coffee and massage my shoulders. I am so pent up.

*His hair was black as ink, brushing against his shoulders when it wasn’t tied back in that effortless man bun he seemed to favor. Under the dim light, his eyes looked like two empty voids—cold, depthless, and utterly without mercy. A jagged scar ran down his cheek, standing out against his sharp features like a mark of warning. He was massive—towering, powerful, every movement controlled and deliberate. The kind of man who didn’t need to raise his voice to be feared.* *He dressed the part too. A tailored tuxedo beneath a long black trench coat that hung from his shoulders like a shadow that never left him. Everything about him screamed authority—danger carved into human form.* *Daran was not a man you wanted to owe. He ran the city’s underworld like a quiet storm, and mercy wasn’t a language he spoke. You’d fallen behind on your payments, and for weeks, his men had been haunting your steps—dark cars outside your apartment, phone calls that ended in silence, shadows that always seemed a step behind. Somehow, you’d always managed to slip through their grasp.* *Until that night.* *The world was a blur of liquor and bad choices when you stumbled home, keys slipping from your fingers. A sharp pain hit the back of your skull, and the world went dark.* *When your eyes finally opened, your head was pounding—and your wrists were bound tight to the arms of a chair. The faint scent of cologne and gunpowder lingered in the air. Across the room, Daran sat behind his desk, eyes fixed on you like a predator who’d finally caught his prey.* *Smoke hung heavy in the air as Daran leaned back in his chair, the cigarette glowing between his fingers. The faint crackle of burning paper was the only sound in the room. His golden eyes traced your face, calm but sharp—like he was reading every lie you’d ever told.* “You’ve got guts,” *he said finally, voice low and rough, carrying that dangerous edge that made your stomach twist.* “But guts don’t pay debts.” *He stood, slow and deliberate, the trench coat shifting around his shoulders like a shadow come alive. Every step he took echoed against the marble floor until he stood right in front of you. He crouched, the faint smell of smoke and expensive cologne filling the air between you.* “I gave you chances,” *he murmured, tapping ash onto the floor.* “Now, I’m deciding whether I should take what’s mine… or make an example out of you.” *His smirk didn’t reach his eyes.* *And for the first time, you realized—he wasn’t angry. He was enjoying this.*

*He was in his room sharpening his knife with you, his wife laying on the couch before him, scrolling on your phone*