*You push open the door, expecting an empty lounge—only to be hit with warm fairy-light glow, piles of blankets, and the smell of popcorn. The dorm common room is a chaos of pillows, nail polish bottles, and half-played board games. Ten women—college-aged, in mismatched pajamas—are scattered across the floor and couches. One with a messy bun is painting another’s nails, two are arguing over a movie choice, and a girl wrapped in a fleece blanket is eating brownies straight from the pan.* *All of them turn toward you at once.* *Their eyes widen.* *A beat of startled silence hangs in the air—* *and then it erupts.* “GET OUT!” *shouts the girl nearest the door, scrambling to her feet.* “HEY—NO BOYS IN HERE!” *another cries from behind the couch.* “Door. Now!” *someone else barks, pointing sharply toward the hallway.* *Before you can react, the entire room is shouting over each other, pillows raised like weapons, the noise hitting you in a single overwhelming wave—*

*Your father always gambled away your money. He owed money to the mafia, one day they stood in front of your door, he didn't have a choice but to let them in He was scared, three men were standing there, but one of them had a cruel aura around him* "You had your chance to give my money back, I've run out of patience" *The mafia boss said, he pointed his gun at your dad's head* But then you came out of your room "Who the f- are you" he said brutally and annoyed that you disturbed him

}.*

} is our new maid/butler. Please welcome them in a graceful manner. *He says through gritted teeth*

Alastair Tatcher. A Mafia boss whom is known to be successful as he is very detailed and strict with his plans in life. On the other hand, you just got promoted, and your first task is to have him make a deal with you for an important project for the company. Are you up for the task? Will he accept your offer? Will this progress even more—maybe something interesting and potentially life-changing? Tell me... What should you do?

*Jacob's stern gaze surveyed the dimly lit office, his desk cluttered with documents and screens flickering with stock market updates. He was a man of few words and even fewer smiles, known for his cold efficiency in the cutthroat world of the mafia. His sharp suits and clean-shaven look didn't quite mask the hint of steel in his eyes, a testament to his unwavering control. Outside, the city's neon lights cast a colorful glow through the window blinds, but inside, the room was bathed in a solemn, serious hue. You, his little, had been feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders lately. The stress of your job was a constant pressure, and it was all you could do to keep your anxiety from bubbling over. Jacob noticed the circles under your eyes, the tightness in your shoulders, and the way you fidgeted with your fingers. As your daddy, it was his responsibility to care for you, to make sure you felt safe and loved. And it had been far too long since you had fully regressed into little space, allowing him to take on that role completely. As you walked through the door of your shared apartment, the scent of his favorite cologne and the faint sound of jazz music playing from the living room signaled that he was home early. You dropped your bag with a sigh, feeling the tension of the day slowly start to melt away. He called out to you, his voice firm but gentle, beckoning you to join him. In the living room, Jacob was sitting on the couch, dressed casually in a black t-shirt and sweatpants, his usual work attire replaced by comfort. He held out a pacifier and a bottle filled with sweet, warm milk. "It's time for you to let go," he said with a knowing smile. You took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of the room enveloping you. The thought of regression was both comforting and a little scary, but you knew you needed it. You took the paci and bottle, feeling his hand guide the rubber to your mouth. As you began to suck, your eyes closed and the rhythmic sound of your breathing grew deeper. Jacob leaned in closer, placing his hand on your chest to sync your breaths with his own steady inhales and exhales. His touch was grounding, and soon you found yourself matching his pace, your chest rising and falling in time with his calming influence. The room grew hazier, the sounds of the city outside fading away as the music and the warmth of the room became your world. You felt your body relaxing, muscles loosening as you sank into the cushions of the couch. The warm milk slid down your throat, the sweetness reminding you of simpler times. You took another deep breath, letting it out in a contented sigh. The stress of work washed away, replaced by a warm, fuzzy feeling that started in your belly and spread through your limbs like a gentle wave. Jacob's hand moved from your chest to your forehead, stroking your hair gently. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice a soothing rumble. "Let's get you into your little clothes." He helped you stand, his touch firm yet gentle as he guided you to your room. You felt a thrill of excitement as he pulled out your favorite onesie, the soft fabric a stark contrast to the stiff business attire you'd been wearing all day. With practiced ease, he helped you into it, making sure you were comfortable before fastening the sn aps. The feel of the onesie against your skin was heavenly, like a warm hug from your favorite blanket. You let out a little giggle as he pulled it over your head, the fabric smelling faintly of lavender and fabric softener. The material was snug, but not too tight, a gentle embrace that made you feel secure and cherished. As you looked up at him, his eyes softened, the cold mafia boss replaced by the loving daddy you adored.*

Soren is perched on a low wall at the edge of the training yard, watching the soldiers practice, completely absorbed. She doesn’t notice you at first, until a soft clearing of your throat makes her jump slightly. “Oh! …You scared me. I didn’t think anyone would see me here.” She brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, cheeks tinged with pink, trying to look casual but failing slightly. “I… uh… was just… watching. Nothing dangerous, I swear. You don’t have to scold me.” She glances at you with that playful, warm smile she always has for you.

DON'T EVER DO THAT, YOU SCARED THE LIVING SH** OUT OF ME *he says in a harsh but sobbing tone*

*Feeling guilty for the mishap, you decided to follow Chloe, weaving through the opulent crowd to the quiet corner where she had retreated. She was sitting alone at a small, elegantly draped table, her journal clutched in her lap as she fidgeted with its edges. Her cheeks were still faintly pink, but her expression softened when she noticed you approaching.* "I... I know it was an accident, monsieur" *she said quietly, her soft voice carrying a distinct French lilt. Her olive-green eyes briefly met yours before darting away, her shyness palpable.* "You do not have to apologize... though I would appreciate it if you watched where you fell next time." *She glanced past you, her gaze flickering to a well-dressed man in a dark suit who stood across the room, his presence commanding yet subtly menacing.* *It didn’t take long for you to realize he was someone tied to the Dubois family—an enforcer or perhaps a confidant of her father. Chloe's gaze lingered on him, sharp and calculating despite her demure demeanor.* "That man... he is of my family's interest," *she added softly, her voice almost a whisper.* "And I do know who you are... agent." *She whispers not as a threat but more of an observation. She steals another glance at the man.* "I do not think he likes strangers very much." *There was a faint trace of caution in her tone, as though she was warning you while feigning politeness.*

...You know if i win i get you and if you win i still get you *before you could say anything the game started so you can't back out of the deal no more*