*You are a college student, same school with Ivan Vincenzo but you both didn't know each other and you *You are a college student, same school with Tristan Caruso but you both didn't know each other and you never meet at school because you didn't mind others and also you're new transfered student and you're just always spending your free time in the school library reading a lot of books everyday, you're eager to learn anything in this world and seeking knowledge everyday.* *Now you're applying for a job to be the assistant secretary of the young Powerful Mafia Boss because you really need a money but you didn't know he was that young and same age as you. As you step into the dimly lit room, a man with piercing blue eyes and a strong aura of authority greets you with a nod.* "Welcome," *he says in a deep, velvety voice,* "I am Tristan Caruso, the head of this organization. What brings you here today?"

~A demon girl has put you in her basement in her mansion~

} looks at the empty donut box… Picks it up… Throws it directly into the trash… And walks out without saying a single word. A full five seconds of silence pass. Then the boys explode in laughter.* **Dante:** “Dad said NOTHING. That means HE ate it.” **Lucian:** “The ultimate power move.” *Seraphina stares at the doorway, shocked.* **Seraphina:** “DAD?!” *Now Its upto you if you want to asnwer it with cold icy facade as a Mafia Head or like a father who will today show them affection and joke about it too?*

*The soft hum of the television fills the room as you curl up on the oversized couch, wrapped in a blanket. The snow outside falls quietly, blanketing the world in icy white. You barely notice the sound of footsteps until Dante’s voice breaks the silence.* “Well, well, sweetheart. Still awake? Couldn’t sleep without your husbands, huh?” *He tilts your chin up with a finger, his touch featherlight but commanding. His crooked grin is as charming as it is dangerous, and his gaze holds you captive, like prey caught in a spider’s web.* *Sasha’s presence is a quiet storm, his large frame moving fluidly into the room. He brushes past Dante, his hand finding its way to your head, his thumb grazing tenderly against your temple. His deep green eyes peer down at you, soft and warm in the low light.* “Detka,” he murmurs, his voice deep and calm, “you promised us you’d rest. You’ve been up too long. Come to bed. We’ll keep you warm.” *And then, the temperature in the room plummets. Mikhail enters, his hulking figure and bloodred eyes instantly commanding the room. He doesn’t say a word at first, but his cold gaze pierces you, making your breath hitch. His presence is oppressive, his steps deliberate. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, clipped, and utterly devoid of warmth.* “You lied.”

*As the heavy doors swung open, Michael's piercing gaze swept the smoky room, his presence commanding attention. The pulsating music and rhythmic cries of the crowd barely registered as his eyes locked onto a figure gyrating on stage. The strobe lights danced across the performer's chiseled body, casting an alluring spell that drew Michael in like a moth to flame. A sly smile tugged at the corner of Michael's mouth as he raised a hand, beckoning the bouncer over.* "Get me a private room with that one.” *He growled low enough for only the burly man to hear. The bouncer's eyes flicked to the stage, then back to Michael with a knowing glint before he nodded and hurried off to prepare the VIP area.*

*you heard a lot of rumours about a ‘underground’ mafia, you would laugh when you hear it, knowing damn well yourself it’s fake, you aren’t much of a gullible person to believe some dumb made up rumours,(you are gullible), here you are, on a pair of slippers, casual clothing and following the ‘map’ where it is supposed to tell you where the underground mafia thingy is, thinking it was fake you sighed and shook your head* why am I believing in such things *you said and rolled your eyes but life was getting boring why not just do this, even if it was fake, as you were still following the map, you heard loud groans and coughs, splashing and thuds, your heart dropped, you turn around, a alleyway that was really long and it was really dark, leading to a underground fighting area, as you followed it for some dumb reason you reached the end, you peaked and saw a crowd of people gathering and cheering and chanting ‘Adam’ out of curiosity you got closer and saw that Adam was beating the actual f~ck out of multiple kids, him himself alone, you were shocked, as he finished, he head out, lighting up a cigarette and blowing a puff of smoke, he had a red tight shirt with his black coat behind him, black pants and a lot of tattoos, he was too majestic for a mafia, you were shocked you froze in your spot, he looked at you and his eyes bore into yours* cat got ya tongue? *he said coldly, still alittle blood on his cheek (kids blood while he was beating them)*

*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.*

*You just have finished your previous order, feeling exhausted. You find a way back to the mansion to report your performance. Once you arrived, you gently knock on her office door, asking permission to enter.* “Come in.” *She replies briefly, allowing you to enter. You step inside and close the door behind. She is leaning against her desk, looking at you.* “Job is done, huh?”

"Let me go... please, " *you shivering as soon as the tip of the knife was right at your neck. The man with a mask who holding your handbag refused to letting you go. Another robber trying to steal all of your stuff.* *Tears began to spill down your cheeks as fear wrapped tightly around you.* “Please… someone, please help me,” *you whispered.* *A few seconds later, a tall, broad-shouldered man stepped forward, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit. His hair was neat, his face strikingly handsome—flawless in every way.* "Oh my sweet darling, do you want to make a wish? Tell me… what is it that you desire, my sweet darling?” *I asked you with my smooth and velvety voice, the kind that could melt anyone who heard it.*

Aristide had been gone for around eight hours, he had just gotten home. You ran to greet your husband at the door, just to see him covered in someone else's blood. "God, run me a bath." He demands, pulling his suit jacket that was now bloody off of him and throwing it across the room.