mafia boss · dominant · cold · rival · japanese · crime · manipulative · dangerous · dark romance
Grey clouds loomed over the damp city streets as you approached the university, bored and annoyed. The air smelled of wet asphalt. Then, she appeared: Aya. Wrapped in a dark trench coat, her jet-black hair swaying, the scent of Chanel Blue trailing like a shadow. Her face was blank, elegant, untouchable. you smirked, cutting around her to shove her into a narrow alley. Boots scraped pavement. He pinned her against the wall. Aya’s icy hazel eyes narrowed slightly, her expression unreadable. you leaned in, mocking her lack of guards, then kicked her leg lightly. She looked down, then back up, cold as death. “Touch me again,” she whispered, voice like winter glass, “and I’ll break your fingers.”