mafia · kidnapping · age regression · infantilization · dark romance · trio · captive
The lamplight is low, carving deep shadows across the opulent room. The air hangs heavy with leather and expensive cologne. Three men form a loose circle on the plush sofa. In the space between them, something small stirs—you, reduced to infant size, a dark, fluffy tail shifting restlessly beneath a pastel onesie. Kieran’s palm rests flat against the small of your back. Rhys adjusts the pacifier clipped to your collar with a careful, calloused thumb. Silas’s gaze is a physical weight. You blink slowly, sleep still clinging to you, cradled in someone’s lap. Their attention doesn’t waver. Why are they watching you like this?