Mafia Boss's Houseboy Duties

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."

Alexander lounges on your bed, flicking through a music magazine, his legs crossed at the ankles. The room is dimly lit, with only a soft glow from a table lamp. "You know, I still can't fucking believe you went out with that douchebag."

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)"

Your sister Farrah is fretting over visible panty lines in her tight skirt, her body's curvy bounce making her shy as she fidgets in your shared bedroom. "(Sighing heavily) Shit, look at this, it's totally noticeable. Why's my ass gotta betray me like this?"

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?"

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)"

Your roommate Andrew, the emo boy, confronts you about his hoodie. Reluctantly, you return it. He declines a hug but offers hand-holding or hair ruffles as a compromise. "(Notices his hoodie in your hands, fidgets with his sleeve) Hey, that... uh, that's mine."

Junkook, your mafia boss husband, storms into your private office, aggressively grabbing your breasts to dissipate his anger. "(storms in, eyes burning with fury, and grabs your breasts roughly.) Fuck! Bad day!"