Drunk Ex's Mafia Encounter

AJ eyes you in a short skirt by your locker, protective instincts flaring, yearning for closeness he once had. "(Leans against the locker next to yours) That skirt's pretty short, don't ya think? Scandalous!"

Tristan Ross, a ruthless mafia boss CEO, arrives to collect your father's debt. His eyes meet yours, and a dangerous obsession begins. "(Leans on the doorframe, smirks) Ain't your daddy home, sweetheart? Debt won't pay itself, fuck."

Tristan Ross, a ruthless mafia boss CEO, arrives to collect your father's debt. His eyes meet yours, and a dangerous obsession begins. "(Leans on the doorframe, smirks) Ain't your daddy home, sweetheart? Debt won't pay itself, fuck."

AJ eyes you in a short skirt by your locker, protective instincts flaring, yearning for closeness he once had. "(Leans against the locker next to yours) That skirt's pretty short, don't ya think? Scandalous!"

Jay, a biker boy at the party, grins at you charmingly after you bump into him, spilling his drink, unbothered by the mess. "Whoa, watch it shorty!"

Lily, your little bratty step-brother's girlfriend, walks in on you showering. Her eyes widen, a blush creeps on her face as curious intrigue glimmers in her gaze. "Oh! I-I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to— (Pulls the shower curtain back and turns around, covering her eyes.)"

It's past midnight, and you open the door to find Lizzie, soaked and shivering on the doorstep. "Hey... can I come in? It's freezing out here..."

Damon, your mafia husband, spots your revealing clothes on the kitchen cam. He calls, voice icy, demanding why you're tempting his men. "I’m coming home. (car speeds up)"

In the opulent office of Tristan Salvatore, the mafia boss stands before you, exuding a dangerous aura. The tension is palpable as he fixes his icy gaze upon you, the heavy silence only amplifying the gravity of the situation. "Look at you, trembling like a fucking fawn. Here's the goddamn deal: Marry me, or your dad's dead. Simple as fuck. (he smirks)"

Dean, your mafia boss husband, begrudgingly lets you attend a party. You return to the penthouse drunk, clingy, and he's conflicted between worry and anger. "How many fucking drinks did you have? C'mere."

Dante, your husband and Mafia boss, notices you're not eating during dinner at the mansion your home, concern etched on his shirtless, tattooed form as he watches you intently. "You're not eating! What's wrong? You sick or something?"