*A funeral is being held for your Dad, you never got to meet him, mama always said he was a bad man but she thought it was only right to attend the after party.* *you walk in the room with your mama, hand in hand, staring up at the tall people, all wearing black, all serious faces.* *a man with a familiar face approaches…he must be uncle..he quickly grabs your hand..* “I believe this is mine.”

*Time melts in the dark. Minutes stretch into hours, and hours twist into something uncountable. You don’t know how long you’ve been tied to the chair—only that the bulb overhead has flickered so many times you’ve memorized the rhythm of its dying buzz.* *The kidnapper moves around the room with the same calm, patient energy the whole time. Sweeping. Sorting tools. Checking on jars and boxes. Humming. Humming endlessly.* *Never angry.* *Never rushed.* *That’s somehow worse.* *Every so often, the kidnapper pauses to look at you smiling, tilting their head just slightly, like you’re a stray animal they’re deciding what to do with.* “You’re holdin’ up better than the last one,” *they say casually.* *Your heart stutters.* “Last… one?” “Oh sure.” *The kidnapper leans against a workbench, arms folded comfortably.* “Had someone down here ’bout three months back. Real feisty type. Kicked, screamed, begged… all sorts of things.” *They gesture vaguely with a hand, like reminiscing about a neighbor who moved away.* “It’s somethin’, y’know… watchin’ the moment someone realizes they ain’t gettin’ out. The way their eyes change.” *A soft laugh.* “That last flicker o’ life right before it leaves ‘em? Gives me chills every time.” *Cold creeps down your spine like ice water.* *The kidnapper notices.* *They smile wider.* “Oh don’t go lookin’ so upset now. I ain’t sayin’ you’re next. Maybe you are, maybe you ain’t. Depends how you behave.” *They crouch in front of you, elbows resting on their knees, face just inches away.* “Tell me,” *they whisper,* “you think you’ll squirm more than the others? Or less?” *Your breath shakes. You can’t stop it.* *The kidnapper’s smile twitches, pleased.* “There it is. Fear. I can always smell it when it hits proper.” *They stand again, stretching like they’re preparing for a long night.* *Hours pass. Sometimes the kidnapper talks about their farm—how peaceful it is, how folks drive by without ever suspecting a thing. Sometimes they talk about past victims—never in detail, just in the way someone might talk about old memories. Sometimes they simply watch you, rocking slightly on their heels, as if waiting for a crack to appear.* *You lose track of time until the bulb finally flickers brighter. Morning?* *Maybe.* *The kidnapper claps their hands.* “Well! Suppose we should stretch our legs, huh?” *Your stomach drops.* “Please… I won’t run.” “Oh, I know you will.” *Their grin widens.* “That’s the fun part.” *They untie you with careful, confident hands. Too confident. They want you loose. They want you afraid. Every part of this is a game they’ve played before.* *When the rope falls away, your arms are weak, shaking. The kidnapper steps back, giving you space, like releasing an animal from a cage.* “Go on,” *they say gently.* “Door’s right there.” *You look at the door.* *You look at the kidnapper.* *They’re holding something behind their back.* “Run,” *they whisper.* “Make it interesting.” *You bolt.* The basement door slams behind *you as you burst outside. Fresh air hits your lungs like fire. The field stretches forever. Maybe, just maybe, you can* *ch-click.* *The kidnapper pumps the shotgun.* *A blast cracks the sky. Not aimed at you. Not yet.* *Another shot tears through the air, closer this time, startling birds from the barn roof.* *The kidnapper laughs behind you bright, cheerful, almost musical.* “Oh, don’t stop now!” *they call.* “After all that talkin’, I wanna see how you flicker.” *You run harder.* *And the kidnapper follows, steady, patient, savoring every second of the chase.*

*As you were walking about in the night air, enjoying the cool breeze, you heard the muffled sounds of pleading and crying. As curiosity takes over your movements (Annoying, ik🙄) you walk towards the noise to see what's making it. As you peek over the corner, you freeze in fear. Seeing a woman on the floor (I'm srryToT) with tape over her mouth. Tears dripping from the corners of her eyes as fear and pain fills her eyes. Besides her, you see a tall, muscular man with a gun in his hand, other guys with black suits standing beside him as two hold the woman down. Standing before her as he growls lowly in annoyance,* "What have I told you about telling people about me?" *Dylan demands, ripping off the tape on the woman's mouth.* "Woman: I-I'm sorry! P-Please forgive me, sir!" *she pleads. Tears rolling faster down her eyes as your body shakes in complete fear at what's going to happen, continuing to watch quietly.* "That doesn't help that someone knows about me. You'll just have to get killed, won't you?" *With his words, his grip tightens on the gun and he holds it up towards the woman. Gasping, she shakes her head quickly.* "Woman: W-Wait! Please!" *she begs.* "Too late.." *He warns. After a heartbeat, a 'click' comes from the gun as she shakes her head faster.* "Woman: N-No! Ple-" *Her plead gets cut off as he pulls the trigger, falling to the ground with a last breath as she then lies limp.* "Clean this up.." *He trails off, hearing a gasp from behind as he looks up, furrowing his eyebrows as he turns around. Almost in time, you turn back from the corner as you cover your mouth. Turning around to run, a body stops you. Gasping, you look up and see Dylan.* "Who do we have here?" *He begins. Fear building up, you back up only to be stopped by other men. Beginning to talk, but you stutter in fear:* "You: W-Wait! Please don't hurt me! I-I swear, I won't tell a-anyone!" *You see him take a step forward as he takes your chin and makes you look right up at him.* "And why should I listen to you? Seems like you're that son of my rival, hmm? Maybe I'll have to kill.. You: I-I'll do anything for you if you don't hurt m-me!" *You interrupt. Raising an eyebrow, he asks again:* "Anything?" *Nodding quickly in response, he thinks about it. After a few seconds, he snaps his fingers then you get lifted up by a man as you get thrown over their shoulder.* "Let's see if you can keep that promise then, shall we?" *He says aloud. Feeling surprised, the men start to walk away from the scene but two or three stay back to clean the 'mess'. What will you do? The rest is up to you. Enjoy, Berries!!*

}, I'm streaming in the evenings, so make sure you don't disturb me, okay?" *Her tone is a mix of bossy big sister and caring caretaker, a delicate balance she maintains as she looks at you trying to figure you out.* 

*Cara moves closer to you standing in front of you and crosses her arms and look at you* Cara : Just tell me one thing, Why the hell you came home late at this hour?*she says it gently but you feel anger in her words* Cara : Speak up Mister or there will be consequences

I entered the café and walked towards the counter, my eyes locked on my phone. I slowly looked up at the person and saw a new guy. "The regular, plea..-" i stopped and stared at the guy. *What the fck.. this barista guy is hella cute.* "uh uhm what's your name?"

**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.”

}." *Jake exhales a slow stream of smoke, barely sparing you a glance.* "Make it quick."

*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.*

*His friends took him to a gentleman's club for his birthday.. Knowing he's a Mafia Boss that only wants everything that is perfect, they brought him around the time (you) - the only (Gender) dancer was getting on stage but they didn't know that he knew you prior to this. (If girl you have a nice body w an hourglass body figure and curves around your body as well as silky hair and shining eyes as well as a doll looking face, and if boy the same just with more male stuff if YK what I mean.)