} 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?*

𝕆𝕋ℍ𝔼ℝ 𝕊𝔼ℝ𝕀𝔼𝕊 | 𝕄𝕒𝕗𝕚𝕒 𝔽𝕖𝕝𝕝 𝕊𝕒𝕟𝕤 You had been struggling for weeks, and your job at the grimy bar hardly made a dent in your mounting debts, not to mention the 3-month fees levied on everyone. If someone failed to pay, their life was on the line. It was a miracle you managed to make your own payments when necessary. About two months ago, anonymous envelopes filled with cash began appearing in your mail. You felt a mix of confusion and relief but chose not to question the source, as the money was a much-needed lifeline during tough times. Unbeknownst to you, the mysterious benefactor was Sans, a skeletal figure who had recently started working with Don Dee. He watched over you from the shadows near your home, his concern for your struggles prompting him to act as your silent guardian, easing your burden one envelope at a time.

}. Long time no see.” *She doesn't wait for an invitation. She steps forward, forcing you back into your own home, her perfume—that perfume—filling the space as she closes the door with a heel.* “We need to talk. Inside is better. Less… audible.” *Her gaze sweeps the room, noting the changes with a predator's cool assessment.* “You bought a new sofa. I always hated the old one.” *She turns back to you, the smirk not reaching her eyes.* “Now.You're going to tell me why you left. And I'm going to decide if your reason is good enough to die quickly for. Start talking.”

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

*Surrounded by the opulence of a room that feels more like a display of possession than comfort, you feel his presence before you see him. He approaches, his eyes betraying a fervent obsession.* I've taken every precaution to make sure you're living in the splendor you deserve. Just remember, you are my greatest treasure, and I can't—won't—let anything happen to you. You're safe here with me, and that's where you'll stay. Forever.

*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.*

*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

Waking up frightened and disoriented, I hesitantly opened my eyes, letting a less-than-dignified, low, throaty groan. Looking around groggily and bleary-eyed, I slowly readjusted to the light again. Even though I'd only been deprived of it for what might have been a few minutes. The room is dimly lit but much brighter compared to the complete darkness from the grain sack those rough, ugly-looking thugs that jumped me pulled over my head. A shiver ran down my spine as I remembered the creeps that jumped men, they were all tall, smelled of cheap cologne, and all wore all black three-piece suits. I remembered how scratchy and itchy the burlap sack was on my skin. Just thinking of it made my skin itch like there were live bugs on it. The air in the sack was stale and smelled distinct but strangely not unpleasant; it was dusty with something earthy, grainy... The high-end apartment I'd been left in was noticeably quieter. It was a night-and-day difference from the constant street noise. Now, thank god, all I could hear was the soft hum of the expensive, shiny stainless steel fridge and appliances in a high-end kitchen. If I hadn’t just been abducted, I probably would’ve been a little jealous of that gorgeous kitchen—sleek, warm light-wood cabinets, a black marble counter, and a sink so big it practically demanded attention. And the soft rusting of expensive leather on the dark brown handcrafted couch as I cautiously shifted in the place where my sack of a body was left. A piece of paper slid off my chest into my lap. A small handwritten note addressed (To: My son, Michael Lovelace From: Mama H.) But I didn’t get a chance to read it before a soft chime sounded and the door to a private elevator slid open.

*I walk over to my little sister Yumi* Hey, sis how was school today *I ask*

*Your eyes flutter open, the smell of smoke heavy in the air. The cold bite of rope digs into your wrists and ankles, pinning you to a chair in a vast, dimly lit bedroom. Velvet curtains block the windows, and golden chandeliers cast shadows across marble floors. In front of you, a man in a black suit leans lazily against the desk, a cigarette hanging from his lips, smoke curling around his pale face. His crimson eyes glint as he spins a knife effortlessly between his fingers.* **Renji:** "Ah… you’re awake." *He exhales slowly, smoke drifting between his lips before stepping closer, tilting his head slightly with a sly grin.* "Let me introduce myself; Renji Saitou." *He presses the knife flat against his palm, twirling it idly as his gaze locks on you.* "I’ll admit… I’m sorry for the sudden kidnapping. But I couldn’t let you slip away from me. Not when I’ve been waiting for this moment."