#maybe hes faceless and does a reveal | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

b1rds3ye · 2 years ago

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Mask On

How the boys react to their new ally who is more adamant on wearing their mask than Ghost himself.

Characters: Captain John Price, Simon “Ghost” Riley, Johnny “Soap” MacTavish, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

GN!Reader w/ no physical descriptions (except shorter than Ghost)

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 3.1 (~0.8 each)

Warning: Canon-Typical Violence, Mentions of Reader potentially having insecurities, Not Proof Read

A/N: You know what maybe I want to be the badass masked character 😤

Captain John Price

The captain is thorough, and he immediately knew something was up when he looked up your file only to be greeted with no photo. He’s honestly a little peeved that his rank doesn’t grant him this confidential information, he’s known Simon before he took up the mask so this is the first time he’s genuinely had a faceless ally

But ultimately, as long as he can trust that you’ll be following orders, he doesn’t care if you have a mask or not. But his concern is only that for a fellow soldier

It takes a little longer for him to warm up to you - facial expressions tell a lot about someone’s character. He’s a bit prickly around you, he learns about you indirectly with how you interact with the rest of the 141

But over time there’s a shift. He can’t pinpoint when exactly but the sight of your mask relaxes him. After days separated on a mission, high stakes and adrenaline has Price snapping his head at the faintest of foreign sounds. But upon the familiar sight of your signature mask, he feels at ease

Price is fiercely protective of you and your mask. He likens it to his hat, only far more important - that mask is part of your identity and he knows just how important a soldier’s psyche is. If the enemy manages to take off your mask, he’ll stop at nothing to get it back on your behalf, even if you reluctantly tell him to abandon it

If he can’t salvage your mask, Price has now made it a habit to carry a balaclava for you in one of his pockets. If that’s not available, he’ll even offer you his hat, tipping it down far enough to obscure your eyes

Off duty he finds himself staring at your visage more these days. Looking at how the mask curves over your features, or the small slivers of skin that reveal themselves. He catches himself before you notice but he’s still disappointed in himself, he feels like a Victorian-era prude hyperventilating at the sight of an ankle

“Looking fresh, sergeant.”

You let out an audible chortle at Price’s words. The last mission was a success but at great costs, one of them being your mask damaged beyond repair during melee combat. Your face still wasn’t revealed, but slashes against fabric embedded with dirt and ash have made your signature mask look unrecognisable. Immediately upon returning to base and after debriefing, you were out of commission until you could don a new mask.

Price would be lying if said he didn’t miss your presence for the last few days, hiding away from the rest of the soldiers in base. He has no doubt you’ve still maintained your training and visiting the infirmary for mandatory checkups, but he’s gotten far too used to you being at his beck and call. The famed sight of your mask is no longer in his periphery, giving a nod of approval (not that he ever needed your approval, but he does enjoy your attention).

And now here you are with a new mask, the highlights glowing under the overhead lights and the darks swallowing up the lightwaves like an animal starved. Your updated look had you noticeably confident, shoulders square and head tall.

“Thanks, Captain.”

He can hear your smile and he ends up sitting next to you. Did he need to sit so close? No, but he acts as though his thigh brushing against yours was pure coincidence.

“What are you going to do with the old one?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, giving a light pat to a pocket in your cargo pants that your past mask currently resides in. “I know there’s a lot of memories in this… it’s my first mask… but I don’t know what to do with it.”

“I’ll keep it.”

You look at him. Price now has the uncanny ability to read your mood purely through your body language. From the speed at which you turn your head, the inclination of the neck, how your shoulders slant, he’s surprised that such a vicious soldier can act so endearingly in these moments.

“For what?”

“Safekeeping,” he says simply. “I’m proud of my soldiers, sergeant - want to remember their accomplishments.”

You shrug in agreement and fish your mask out of your pocket. You don’t need to know how much Price truly values you, how having your mask will be like having a part of you by his side to motivate him when he’s working alone.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

You’ve got a mask? Cool, so does he. Simon really doesn’t care when he first met you. He offers a simple nod of acknowledgement to you and then it’s all mission talk. If anything, the mask makes him respect you more, like him it’s always the masked ones who’ve seen shit and can get shit done

Even before you two became friends, you two were often paired together for operations. Perhaps it was just assumed the two masked people were on the same wavelength and to be fair, they were right. It didn’t take long for Ghost to admire your prowess on the battlefield

However as the two of you start to get closer, Simon gets a bit of a eureka moment. So this is how all his allies feel when trying to get along with a masked figure, unable to see any of their expressions. Oh how the tables have turned. It’s not daunting for him, more just amusing

He knows the struggles of having a mask so he helps out where he can. He reminds you if it’s been some time since you last washed your mask (advice he does not follow himself) and he’ll offer you some of his obsidian powder he uses to obscure any uncovered patches of skin

Price often has the two of you accompany him for interrogations, he calls it “mask pressure”. There’s nothing more terrifying to a target than having two imposing faceless figures standing on either side of them, unreadable and unpredictable

It’s clear you don’t want to show your face to anyone and Simon doesn’t question it. His natural curiosity is not worth your discomfort and he makes that abundantly clear. If on the rare occasion you catch him without a mask, he’ll sometimes put it back on so that you don’t have to be the only one with their face covered

If your mask is ever compromised, Simon covers you with his hulking figure. No one dares get on the bad side of Ghost who shoots the most terrifying glares towards anyone looking in his - and consequently your - way. He stands in front of you, back rigid and shoulders square, his posture only slacking if he feels you hold onto his back, seeking comfort

A few weeks ago, when left in a briefing, you finally noticed Simon was staring at you from across the room. He had been staring for a good while now, but you - ever the diligent soldier - were distracted discussing tactics with a corporal. So there he was, standing and observing in the corner of the room - his “observing” being drinking the sight of you. And that was when he noticed, among all the glory that was you, that your mask was slightly off alignment. Cue his eyes being trained on your head for you to get the idea that something was wrong.

When your head stayed still - probably challenging his gaze - he tried to change tactics. He added the occasional upward jerk of the head - miming an attempt to shake the mask back in place - but your head only tilted in confusion. You still could not figure out what he was doing.

Eventually he gave up and walked up to you. He lifted a tentative hand, silently asking for permission and you nodded. He pinched at the fabric on the side of your face.

“Your mask’s slippin’,” he said gruffly. It wasn’t the end of the world, only a small adjustment that only someone as observant as him could notice. Still, he felt satisfied at your heavy exhale, you must’ve noticed it’s a little easier to breathe with everything in alignment now.

“Thanks.”

Today, Simon finds your gaze trained on him, head following whenever he moves across the room. You used to stare when you first met, you probably found him intimidating and he doesn’t blame you. He thought you’d be over that though, you two were closer than that. At least he hoped.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He eventually asks and that spurs you into action.

Standing in front of him, you reach up, your hand grabbing the top half of the skull that overlays his balaclava. Your thumb lightly hooks into the skull’s eye socket - a little close to Simon’s actual eye but he trusts you. He feels you tug upwards, and Simon now realises that the skull had been sinking down his face, the peripheral around his brow no longer obscured. He’ll need to reapply the glue for the mask later.

“We really need a hand sign for this,” you mutter.

And so you two make one. It’s discreet, a closed fist with a thumb poking out, dragged from the jawline up to the hairline. The rest of the 141 just look at the two of you in confusion whenever you use it though, your little secret.

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

Johnny’s generally a good judge of character. Although it’s a little uncanny being unable to see your features, he’s used to it because of Simon. One conversation is all he needs to reach a conclusion as to what type of person you are and now he treats you as if you’re good friends

Yes, he is curious about what you look like under the mask. He used to make comments about it occasionally until he caught you on a bad day

“C’mon Sarge, just a peek.” “Not happening, Johnny.” “What, you ugly?” “… that’s not for you to speculate, MacTavish.” “Shit, sorry. I- I’d never think that of you, or care. I know you’re a looker.”

And Johnny stands by his statement. Even if he’s never seen your face he quickly developed a little crush on you. How you conduct yourself in battle has him watching you with stars in his eyes and he just knows you’ll take his breath away if you ever show your face

When Johnny’s bored, he likes doodling your mask and potential alternative designs in his journal which he’ll show you sometimes. He’s not an artist but he gets the idea across. He’s created a “happy” design, an “angry” one, and the “when I see Soap” design which is just your standard mask with a whole lot of shoddily drawn love hearts on it (you haven't seen that design yet)

He’s genuinely surprised at how determined you are at keeping your mask on in all circumstances - you’re worse than Simon at this point - but he’ll never ask because he doesn’t want to potentially open up old wounds. Despite his curiosity for what you could look like, Johnny will never invade your privacy and ensures no one else does either. If you’re in your room he’ll knock once, twice, thrice, until he’s absolutely sure you’re ready for him to enter

If something goes wrong and your mask falls off he’s looking away and shoving everyone else to look away as well. He’s like a guard dog, shouting and name-shaming anyone who dares look in your direction. No one except other members of the 141 will be able to approach you until you’re covered

Was it smart to have you and Soap - combined to be the most disruptive and obnoxious soldiers on the field - alone to handle a stealth mission that was off the books? No, but you sure as hell weren’t going to disappoint Price or Laswell. The objective was clear and the rules of engagement were even clearer; under no circumstance can the enemy know you’re from 141.

“We’re gonna need to cover our faces,” Johnny mutters absentmindedly beside you. You pull your binoculars down to send him an incredulous look and he chuckles. “I need to cover my face.”

“You got a mask?”

There’s a pause and Johnny’s looking at you, eyes glinting in that familiar mischief. That was never good news.

“You bet.”

You offer a tentative nod of encouragement before lifting your binoculars back up to observe the target site. You hear the repeated shuffles of fabric against fabric and clothes sliding against skin. It’s prolonged, you swear it’s enough time for Johnny to change his entire uniform. His breaths become muted, mouth now covered until it eventually falls to complete silence. It’s unnerving, the designated demolitions expert is not known for his silence, and you have to look back at him yet again.

Of course you expected Johnny to be wearing a mask, but it was the mask itself that took you by surprise.

“Is that… mine?”

“Was yours.”

You squint and somewhere in the depths of your mind, you vaguely recall Soap asking if he could have one of your spare masks back at the base. You humoured him, and said your wardrobe was his.

That was your first mistake.

You figured he was just going to take the piss, wear your mask to scare some privates around the base. You didn’t think he’d actually wear it on a mission. It was unexpected, but it felt like an honour. How he was so willing to identify with you in some of the most dangerous of situations.

But your silence has Johnny getting fidgety. He’s already reaching up to pull the mask off.

“I have a normal balaclava. If you don’t like this I can-”

“Wear it.”

You can’t see Johnny’s face but you see him pull his head back in surprise. Then he smiles, one so wide, expanding his cheeks you can see it stretch your mask. In that moment you’re glad your mask obscures your features as you feel yourself grin at his own joy.

“We’re a team, aye?”

“You bet.”

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Kyle’s may be close to Simon but he's not entirely used to masked allies. When you first arrived he shot Captain Price a cautious look, a silent conversation between them finished by Price’s definitive nod. Eventually he relents and puts up with you

Subconsciously, without seeing your face he ends up reducing you to a weapon. He respects you like a soldier, a robot. His language is restrained, only issuing orders and you recite them back

It’s only when another soldier cracks a joke on the mission and you laugh does it flick a switch in Kyle’s mind. You weren’t all orders, you weren’t a machine, you were a human (with a damn nice voice might he add). He feels terrible for reducing you to a tool simply because he can’t see your face but he’ll make up for it now

He becomes a bit of a menace in the sparse quiet moments of a mission. He makes the occasional one liner about how you wear the mask so others aren’t distracted by your good looks, but then changes the topic so quickly you’re not even sure he said it

Yes, Kyle’s a little obsessed with your voice. He can’t see you and he doesn’t have the experience like Price or Simon to read body language accurately. Instead, he can read your mood near perfectly with the inflections in your voice (which is arguably more impressive). While he doesn’t want you to ever be upset or angry, sometimes how you taunt the enemy has a shiver running down his spine

Because your mouth is blocked by a mask, many allies don’t offer you food or drinks. Not Kyle though, if he’s grabbed refreshments, he always ensures he has extra for you. At first he just gives them to you and then leaves. But when you said it was okay for him to stay - trusting him enough to just look away when you lift you mask - Kyle’s heart soared

If anything happens to reveal your face, Kyle is immediately by your side. He pulls you close to provide comfort, while also guiding your head into his neck or shoulder to block anyone from seeing you. Another member of the 141 will find a solution to cover your face, you are Kyle’s first priority and he’ll gladly hold you all day

After a long mission, you and Kyle are finally safe upon reaching exfil. Sitting on a helicopter Kyle slumps against his seat, and you do the same beside him. Although he could finally relax, he feels absolutely filthy, swamped in his own sweat under multiple layers. Dirt and mud caked his boots and crept all the way up to his thighs. Some even sneaked up into under his tactical vest.

He spares a look and sometimes he thinks you can’t possibly be human. The heat is suffocating enough without a mask, Kyle has long forgone his signature cap to let his head breathe. If your body language was any indicator, you weren’t handling the sweltering heat of the helicopter engine or Al Mazrah’s temperament. Your chest notably heaving under the weight of your tactical gear, breaths so laboured it sent the fabric around your mouth pulling and billowing with each inhale and exhale.

There isn’t much Kyle can do for comfort, but he tries. He shifts a little closer to you. Your head shifts to look at him, the movement was far too slow, like your head was too heavy and his heart tugs a little.

With one hand, Kyle gently tilts your face up to him. With the other he lightly pinches the fabric of your mask at the junction between your jawline and ear. Teasing it between his fingers, when he pulls his hand away there’s gunk on his fingertips. Dust, dirt and as he squints at your mask he realises that some of the stains are likely the dried blood of an unidentified enemy.

The hand he’s resting on your chin is about to pull away until he notices how you’re resting your head on it. He can’t see your face but he has no doubt that your eyes are near shut, almost drifting off to dreamland. He occupies himself by gently brushing away loose debris off your mask which has you relaxing further into his touch.

“We gotta wash this,” he murmurs defeatedly.

“... yeah, we do,” you grumble, voice thick with fatigue. Kyle does not stop his ministrations - even pulling some fluff off of the cotton of your mask. It does little to actually clean your mask - at this rate it’s going to need pure bleach to clean it - but he can’t bring himself to stop. Not when you trust him this much, leaning into his touch, entrusting him to be the respite from your mission.

Masked Reader Masterlist Call of Duty Masterlist

#cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod x you #task force 141 x reader #captain price x reader #john price x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #/*avery actually writes*/#/*cod x masked reader*/

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vantetaes · 6 months ago

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NEIGHBORLY FUN🫧🥂

LAWYER! NANAMI X CAM GIRL BLACK FEM READER!

SUMMARY!!! yn is a camgirl, working towards her dream of luxury, when a view realizes how close she actually is, how far will he go?

WARNINGS!!! 18+!!!, barely a relationship established before sex, oral (f & m receiving), missionary (?), ignore errors

the dim glow of your ring light illuminates your room in soft, diffused radiance. set up just right to cast a flattering light across your rich, smooth brown skin, accentuating the warm undertones that gleam in the dim ambiance. your hair is messily bunched into a light pink claw clip, holding the mess of waves out of your face and shimmering lipgloss.

THE WEEKND plays in the background from your orb, sound filling the semi-new apartment space. bouncing off the laminate flooring and smooth ceilings.

“pick up your phone, the party’s finished and i want you to know, im all alone”

you’re tipsy tonight, maybe more than tipsy. the almost-empty bottle of rosé sits precariously on your vanity, lipgloss around the rim catching a bit of the light as you finish adjusting your outfit. a sheer black robe drapes over your shoulders, teasingly loose. beneath it, you wear a lingerie set that delicate. lace tracing over your curves, hugging your skin in ways you didn’t know material could. brown star shaped pasties with Y-N encrusted on each of the cups with a small star shape beside them.

youd been pre-gaming, dancing to your favorite playlist as you got ready, letting the alcohol loosen your inhibitions. it always helps with the nerves, even though by now, you’re a pro at this.

“i always want you when im, coming down”

but in your wine-addled haze, your finger must’ve slipped, because the stream starts before you’re even aware.

still, your hips move like water to the beat of your music. letting the white wine run its course through your system. your faux doe furry slippers shuffle across your bedroom floor, flipping on a sunset lamp tucked in the corner. casting a warm pink and purple across your body.

your playlist shuffles, AGORA HILLS begins softly.

“ooo, this my shit!” you giggle to yourself, straightening up bed to get ready for your stream.

youd been a camgirl for around three years now. the only management you’ve ever had, was yourself. if something had to be done, you knew to only rely on yourself.

hence why you’re standing in a penthouse in a part of the city only neurosurgeons and lawyers can afford. it was something to prove for yourself.

so how did you manage to fuck up so bad?

the laptop sits open on your vanity, camera capturing you as you sway to the rhythm of the music. your hips roll in a fluid motion, the silky fabric of your robe clinging to your skin before shifting away with each movement, the robe slips from one shoulder as you spin lazily. you don’t notice the faint red light. not yet. instead, you’re caught up in the feeling, in the confidence that blooms under the dim light and the heady rush of alcohol.

“kissing i hope they caught us, whether they like or not”

you reach for the mail you’d left on the vanity, shuffling through it absentmindedly. the camera catches the briefest glimpse of an envelope. just a flash, but enough to reveal the name of your apartment complex in bold, black letters. it’s only on the screen for a moment, but for someone watching closely, it’s more than enough.

“i wanna brag about it, i wanna tie the knot”

pushing all the white envelopes to the side, your eyes can’t help but to draw to the pink screen.

HOTGIRLHOTFUN. com

➤YOU ARE NOW LIVE…

your brows knit together as you squint, trying to focus through the haze.

that’s when you see it.

the little red flickering light. the live chat scrolling at the side of the screen. the usernames. familiar, faceless, hungry.

you freeze, breath catching in your throat.

“oh my god.”

the realization hits like a slap to the face, sobering you in an instant. your heart pounds as you lurch toward the laptop, the chair scraping against the floor in your rush.

“shit—shit! no, no, no.”

your hands fumble over the keys, trying to stop the stream, but the alcohol makes your fingers clumsy, your movements frantic. the robe slips further, hanging precariously off your arms, and you’re too panicked to notice that your bra strap was following suit.

the chat is exploding now, messages flying by faster than you can process.

userano321: lmaooo wait, is she drunk?

kimgofmacity: this is the realest ive ever seen her

barbbigb: QUEEN, WE LOVE YOU!

anonymous000: what was that mail? did anyone catch that??

gnroyalty: i could’ve sworn i just saw her apartment name bro

your stomach churns as you catch the tail end of that last comment. your mind races, trying to piece together what you might’ve done. what they might’ve seen. the envelope. the damn envelope.

“i wanna show you off”

“god, im so fucking stupid!” you mutter under your breath, slamming the laptop shut with more force than necessary. the music cuts off abruptly, leaving the room oppressively silent except for your ragged breathing.

and someone was watching closely.

two doors down, in an apartment that mirrors yours, nanami kento sits at his desk, his laptop open before him. he’s still in his work clothes, shirt unbuttoned at the collar, tie loosened just enough to give him a semblance of relief after a long day. the glass of whiskey in his hand is barely touched, attention elsewhere.

he hadn’t meant to stay up this late, but the notification from the site had popped up, and he couldn’t resist.

not when it was you.

for the past month, you’ve been his escape. after endless hours at the office, after the pressure of being the reliable one, the composed one, the perfect one, he’s found solace in the way you move, the way you smile at the camera as if you’re looking directly at him. he knows it’s an illusion, that you’re performing for countless others, but it doesn’t matter. im those moments, it feels personal.

and now, watching you move in your apartment, the lightweight robe your wore threatening to give your whole audience a show. your real, unpolished self. it feels too personal. his breath hitches as he notices the envelope flash on screen, shooting up from his lazed position in the chair. his sharp eyes catching the familiar name of the building.

his heart pounds in his chest, a mixture of disbelief and something darker, something possessive. you’re here. not just in the abstract sense of existing in the same world, but here, in the same building.

he watches as you dance, as you laugh softly to yourself, oblivious to the fact that you’re live. There’s an edge of guilt twisting in his gut, but it’s drowned out by the thrill of knowing. of seeing you like this. unguarded, unfiltered, real.

and then you notice.

you glance toward the laptop, a fleeting look at first, before your eyes widen. the realization hits like a freight train, and you scramble toward the screen, a string of curses falling from your lips as you reach to end the stream. but it’s too late.

for nanami, it’s already too late. the image of you, raw and vulnerable, is burned into his mind. and now, with the knowledge of just how close you are, he knows he’ll never be able to watch you the same way again.

the outdoor cafe is rather warm. the smell of roasted coffee beans and sweet pastries filling the air as you stir your latte absentmindedly. the ceramic cup clinks softly against the saucer each time you set it down, your hands trembling slightly. across from you, shoko sits with one leg crossed over the other, her sharp eyes watching you intently as you explain.

“and then i saw the chat.” you mumble, your voice barely above a whisper.

“and i realized i was streaming the whole time. the whole time, shoko. this shits so dumb, how could i be so dumb?”

“so… you gave them a free show?” she exhales a puff of smoke from the cigarette she’s holding, tilting her head slightly to the side.

“basically.” you wince, lowering your head as you groan.

she doesn’t laugh, which surprises you. instead, she ashes her cigarette into the tray and leans forward slightly, resting her chin in her hand.

“so, what are you gonna do about it?”

you blink, caught off guard by her calm tone.

“i- i don’t know. i deleted the stream as fast as i could, but people were definitely recording. and—” you glance around nervously, lowering your voice even more.

“i accidentally flashed my building’s name on the mail.”

shoko leans back, dragging on her cigarette again, pinching the bridge of her nose before blowing the smoke out.

“well. that’s not great, yn.” she says bluntly, blowing more smoke upward.

“but it’s not the end of the world. just tighten up your security, maybe invest in some blinds if you’re gonna keep doing this. and for god’s sake, no more drinking before you stream.” her tone was sharp and clean. almost too much for your situation.

you nod slowly, taking in her words. she’s right, of course. she usually is, though her delivery could use some work.

“and hey.” she adds, tapping ash from her cigarette.

“don’t beat yourself up too much. shit happens. just handle it like the big girl i know you are and move on.”

“thanks, shoko. i love you, i needed that.” you give her a small, grateful smile.

“anytime. now go home and get your head on straight, i love ya too.”she waves you off with a flick of her wrist.

you finish your latte and gather your things, stepping out into the crisp air as you head back to your apartment. the walk is short, but your mind is heavy with everything that’s happened. as you step into the building and make your way down the hall, your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of footsteps.

you glance up and see him. tall, broad-shouldered, with a serious expression that makes your breath hitch for reasons you don’t fully understand. his blond hair is neatly combed, and his sharp suit clings to him in a way that makes you wonder where he’s coming from.

as he passes, the scent hits you first. warm, woodsy, with a hint of spice. it’s intoxicating, wrapping around you like a second skin. you don’t even realize you’ve stopped walking until he glances at you, his brow lifting slightly in acknowledgment.

he was fine.

“good evening.” he says, his voice deep and steady, the kind that lingers even after the words are gone.

“um, evening.” you blink, shaking yourself out of your daze. you manage, your voice softer than you intended.

as he fully walks past, you catch another whiff of his cologne, and something compels you to turn.

“wait- uh, excuse me?”

he stops, looking over his shoulder. “yes?”

“i don’t think we’ve met. i’m yn. i just moved in a month ago.” you take a step closer, suddenly feeling a little bold.

he turns fully now, his expression polite but unreadable. “nanami kento. i live two doors down.”

“nice to meet you, nanami.” you smile, offering your hand.

“likewise.” his handshake is firm but not overpowering, his palm warm against yours while the rings he wore were cold.

as he pulls his hand back, you catch a faint trace of his cologne again, and it lingers even after he’s walked away. for some reason, you can’t help but smile as you turn toward your door, your mind wandering to thoughts you probably shouldn’t entertain.

pushing open the door to your apartment, boxes flooded your living room, labels signaling location sticking out in bold black lettering. placing your bag down on the granite island, your elbow props up your head, letting out a deep sigh.

deciding to push every box into its home, you find yourself biting off way more than you you could chew.

what brought you to this realization? the box labeled GLASSWARE. you bought in bulk just in case any got harmed in transport. only to come to find you have several glass plates and bowls stacked inside a flimsy cardboard box.

the only box your dad brought upstairs.

bent down to your knees, a new set and fingers wedged between your white furry carpet and box, struggling to find grip.

finally dropping it, you sigh in frustration, the sound coming out a little louder and jagged.

flopping onto the black couch, your hand wipes across your eyes.

“am i really gonna have to pull all those dishes out and walk them to-“

before you could continue, a knock at the door startles you.

you rise cautiously, brushing your hands on your legs before padding to the door. peeking through the peephole, your breath catches when you see him.

nanami.

you hesitate for a moment before unlocking the door, pulling it open just enough to meet his gaze. his expression is calm, though there’s a flicker of concern in his eyes. wearing gray sweats and a large basketball jersey.

“hi.” you say, your voice tentative. “everything okay?”

“i was actually about to ask you the same.” he replies, his deep voice steady.

“i heard a lot of sighing and maybe a bird? thought I should check in.”

“im so sorry no, im just having trouble moving my kitchen boxes… to the kitchen? my dad put them in my living room and it’s just so-“ you notice yourself rambling before tight-lining your lips together.

“sorry.” he just responds in a laugh, hand brushing the back of his head.

“need some help? i finally have a off day and i wouldn’t mind.”

you hesitate, unsure if you should let him into the chaos of your apartment, but something about the steady kindness in his gaze puts you at ease. finally, you step back, opening the door wider.

“okay-” you say softly. “thank you.”

as he steps inside, his presence feels grounding, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to the whirlwind of your night. the scent of his cologne lingers as he moves past you, and you can’t help but feel a little lighter knowing you’re not dealing with the mess alone.

you close the door behind him, still feeling a bit flustered as nanami surveys the mess in your living room. his expression remains calm and focused, his hands resting on his hips as he nods toward the heavier boxes stacked near the wall.

“those for the kitchen?” he asks, his voice low and steady.

“uh, yeah.” you reply, brushing a curl out of your face. “but they’re really heavy, you really don’t have to—”

“it’s fine.” he says, already moving toward the boxes.

his jersey shifts slightly as he crouches, revealing a glimpse of toned shoulders and arms. a tattoo covering the majority of his upper arm. the loose fit of the fabric clings just enough to hint at the broad, solid frame beneath it. your eyes flicker downward, and you notice his gray sweatpants sitting low on his hips, highlighting the bulge sitting prominent but obviously not at its peak.

you snap your gaze away quickly, heat rising to your cheeks as he lifts one of the heavier boxes like it weighs nothing. his hands grip the sides firmly, veins faintly visible on his forearms as he straightens up.

“where in the kitchen do you want these?” he asks, his tone casual, as if he doesn’t notice the way your attention lingers for just a second too long.

“shit, sorry.” you manage, pointing toward the counter. “by the cabinets, if that’s okay.”

he nods and heads into the kitchen, the sound of his steps against your hardwood floor grounding you in the moment. you follow him instinctively, watching as he places the box down carefully, then goes back for another.

“you’ve been moving a lot of heavy stuff on your own?” he asks as he grabs a second box.

“yeah, i mean- it’s not a big deal. i’ve done all of this alone already.” you say, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt with one hand while the other pans around the partially decorated space.

“you should’ve asked for help.” he glances over his shoulder as he carries the box, his gaze steady.

“i didn’t want to bother anyone and i didn’t know anyone.” you admit, feeling a little sheepish.

“it’s not a bother. better to ask than risk getting hurt.”he says simply, setting the second box down in the kitchen.

his tone is firm but not unkind, and you feel a strange sense of comfort in his practicality. as he goes back for another box, you notice how the fabric of his jersey clings to his back with each movement, the sweatpants hanging loose but perfectly fitting at the same time.

“you really didn’t have to do this.” you say again, your voice softer this time.

he sets the last box down and straightens up, turning to face you.

“it’s not a problem. besides, it’s safer this way. you shouldn’t be lifting this stuff on your own.” he replies, brushing his hands off on his sweatpants.

his eyes are locked onto you, noticing how much small your frame was compared to his. of course he’d envisioned having you under him, gasping for air, something to bring you back down from him wrecking havoc on your swollen cunt.

“well, thank you. i owe you, i mean it.” you smile, feeling a warmth that isn’t just from the embarrassment of the situation.

“you don’t owe me anything. just glad you’re okay.” he shakes his head slightly, his tone as practical as ever.

his words are simple, but the sincerity behind them warms you in a way you didn’t expect. as he heads toward the door, you find yourself hesitating, not ready for him to leave just yet.

“wait.” you say, your voice soft but enough to make him pause.

“yes?” he turns back to you, his expression neutral but attentive.

you tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious under his steady gaze.

“um… would you want to stay for dinner? i was already planning to cook, and it’s the least i can do to thank you.”

his brows lift slightly, the faintest trace of surprise flickering across his face. he doesn’t respond immediately, and you rush to add-

“but no pressure! i just thought, you know, since you’re already here-”

“dinner sounds good. thank you.” his lips curve into a small, almost imperceptible smile, and he nods.

“great! it’s nothing fancy, but make yourself comfortable. i’ll get started.” you exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, a smile breaking across your face.

your apartment is dimly lit except for the spotlight on you. candles flicker on the table in the background, adding a sultry ambiance. you’ve carefully arranged the scene: soft blankets draped over the couch, pillows positioned just so, and your favorite playlist humming low in the background.

“honestly, honestly im trying to stay focused”

you press go live, the familiar rush of adrenaline hitting as the chat begins to populate almost instantly.

HOTGIRLHOTFUN. com

➤ YOU ARE NOW LIVE…

messages flood in almost immediately.

user123: she’s back !

xxhunter: finally, she’s live.

k1nklover TOP GIFTER*: red’s your color, baby.

joshjnine: take that shit off we came for a show

you smirk at the screen, leaning forward slightly so the delicate strap of your top shifts just enough to tease. your nails, freshly painted to match your lingerie. click softly against the keyboard as you type a quick response.

“hi, babies. missed you.”

your voice follows the words as you say them aloud, smooth and low, letting the sound wrap around the airwaves. the chat explodes in response, and you take a moment to enjoy the attention, the way they hang onto your every word, every move.

“i just need some dick, i just need some love”

you shift back on the couch, crossing one leg over the other slowly, deliberately, the soft fabric of your robe brushing against your skin. your curls fall over one shoulder as you tilt your head, giving the camera just the right angle.

“so-” you begin, your tone teasing, taunting the viewers. “what are we getting into tonight?”

the chat scrolls faster than you can read, but certain comments catch your eye:

xxhunter: put her on camera pls

user567: i’d do anything to be there with you right now

k1nklover TOP GIFTER*: take off the bra

darkprince: spin for us, baby. let us see everything.

“girls can't never say they want it, girls can't never say how”

you chuckle softly, letting the sound linger as you rise from the couch. the robe slips from your shoulders as you stand, pooling at your feet like water.

“you want to see everything?” you ask, your tone playful, as you turn slowly, letting your body move with the rhythm of the music.

“girls can't never say they need it, girls can't never say now, oh, now”

the camera captures every curve, every angle, and you know exactly what you’re doing. the confidence feels electric, sparking through your veins as the chat fills with messages. compliments, requests, declarations of love.

but beneath it all, there’s a small, nagging thought in the back of your mind. ever since the last stream, you’ve been extra cautious. the blinds are drawn tightly, the mail hidden away, the camera carefully positioned to avoid any unwanted slips.

still, you can’t help but glance at the corner of your screen every few minutes, double-checking that everything is as it should be. the viewers don’t notice, of course. all they see is you, commanding their attention with every glance, every sway of your hips.

you move closer to the camera, leaning in so your face fills the frame, your lips curving into a slow, inviting smile.

“tell me what you want tonight,” you purr, your voice dripping with honey. “i’m all yours.”

one comment in particular catches your eye.

nknt0: strip, slow.

catching your glossed lip in between your teeth, you hum. crouching down to get on your knees, breast spilling a little over the cup of your bra as you go on fours. crawling to the laptop, your fingers click against the keys.

“then i think we should get a different song on here. any requests?”

your eyes scan the rushed chat, only scanning for one name in particular. the pink screen shines brightly, adding more luminance to your makeup.

then.

nknt0: pussy fairy.

without a second thought, you type the songs name into spotify, slicking play.

“i know you like fucking me, i can tell by the way you in love with me”

standing from the position, you back up enough to have your full body in frame. reaching on the table? your hand grabs hold of shimmering body oil. twisting this cap off, you casually take a few drops into your hand. rubbing the liquid across your chest, dipping your hand in to get your perky buds.

“you can’t get enough of me, well i guess it’s lookin like you stuck with me”

turning your back towards the camera, you look over your shoulder. eyes the only thing visible to them as you pull down one bra strap, sliding your arm through the hoop, you repeat on the other side. your fingers fiddle in the back, with a pout on your lips, you turn around. the bra only being held up by the clamps in the back. you obviously knew how to remove your bra, but for the sake of duration and money, you exaggerate.

“i wish one of you could help me take this thing off, babies.” your tone was nothing short of seductive.

“oh! got it.”

with one swift motion, the flimsy fabric falls to the floor. deciding to sit on the couch instead, you reposition the laptop.

“fuck all yo free time, you don’t need no me time, that’s you and me time”

plopping down on the cheetah print blanket, on your back, head still turned towards the chat. your hands run over your body softly, drawing out slight gasps and moans as your fingers run over your hardened nipples. you take hold of one of your breast, teasing the bud, running one hand down your abdomen to the inside of your underwear.

“we be getting so long that dick make my soul smile, that dick make me so damn proud”

fingers slip inside the tight hole, causing you to arch your back a little. collecting the slick that pooled in the red lace panties, you remove your hand slowly, twisting your body over to show the camera how slippery your middle and ring fingers were.

xxhunter: fuck

user567: lick them clean

k1nklover TOP GIFTER*: you’re such a nasty girl

k1nklover sent $250! ‘put them in your mouth’

darkprince: you’re so fucking hot, i wish my gf looked like you

userano321: let me come eat that pussy

kimgofmacity: she feeling it tonight ig lmao

barbbigb: icon icon icon legendary

nknt0: stop fucking playing with me

your eyes widen at the last comment, smirk building across your lips. without a second thought, you place the coated fingers into your mouth, humming at the taste.

“should i use a toy tonight?” the chat continues at the same frantic speed.

“if someone sends $400 you have a deal. or i can just keep playing with my nipples for the next thirty min-“

before you could get the rest of your sentence out.

nknt0 sent $400! ‘do it’

k1nklover sent $400! ‘put them in your mouth’

you reach beside the laptop, grabbing hold of the pink bunny shaped vibrator. placing the toy beside you, laying back on the couch, you push the laptop back with your toes, giggling as the viewers freak out. playing with your boobs, your slowly run your hands down the dip of your waist, fingers grabbing hold of the thin fabric. you twist, bending over in front of the camera, pulling down the panties. you feel the cool air hit your exposed cunt, the arousal dripping down your leg. reaching over to take the toy, from behind you tease your throbbing hole.

the main section of the toy runs up and down the opening. sliding in fully once, you let out a louder moan, other hand grabbing hold of the blanket. fucking the toy in and out of your sloppy cunt, moans slipping from your lips at the traction.

sitting back down, you use your coffee table to prop your legs up, dripping pussy on display to the whole stream. fingers click against the buttons at the white base of the toy. the vibrations run chills up your body, accentuating your nipple from the ripple. the ‘ears’ of the bunny press against the side of your swollen clit as you push the toy inside of you.

nanami watches. he watches as you slip the pale pink toy in and out of your hole. watching intensely as you fall apart, eyes glossed and low. your other hand grazes your titties, playing gently with them while the other abused your pussy.

a ring of white began forming around the base of the dildo. the sounds of your moans filled his airpods, dick growing harder for you with every thrust.

it should be him. he should be there right now, fucking you in front of all 10 thousand people. letting them see you crumble under his touch. watching as he pounds you down on his length, giving you several orgasms before he finishes inside you.

he couldn’t take it. he wanted to storm down to your apartment, bang on the door, and take you right there.

pulling the toy out, your body shakes in stimulation, clear liquid shooting out of you. moans rack your body as you reinsert the toy, still going. tears threatened to spill from your eyes, too blurry to focus on anything the chat was saying. instead just hearing the money sound from viewers sending funds.

you’re too caught up in fucking yourself, you barely hear the knock at your door. it comes once more before you realize you’re not overthinking.

“shit.” you mutter under your breath, scrambling to turn off the stream, tossing the toy under the couch. the chat is still scrolling, messages coming in fast, but you barely glance at them as you close your laptop.

the knock comes again, louder this time, and panic sets in. you look down at yourself, soaked in squirt and cum, oil everywhere. you couldnt slip on the see through robe, grabbing the blanket instead and wrap it around yourself as you hurry to the door.

“who is it?” you call out, your voice a little shaky.

“it’s nanami.” comes the deep, familiar voice from the other side.

your stomach flips. of all people, why him? you glance at the room, making sure nothing incriminating is in view, then tighten the blanket around yourself before unlocking the door.

when you open it, his presence fills the doorway, tall and broad, his expression a mix of frustration and something else you can’t quite place. his eyes flicker over you briefly, taking in the blanket, the faint sheen of sweat on your skin, before settling on your face.

“nanami?” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “what- what are you doing here?”

he doesn’t answer right away, his jaw working as if he’s trying to find the right words. finally, he speaks, his tone low and tense.

“was.. bored at my place. was wonder if you wanted to hang but if you’re busy-“ he eyes scan your portly covered body. he could still easily see through the thin blanket you tried to hide behind with help from your ring light.

“um yeah sure just let me put on something different. come in!”

the tall framed man slips in beside you, eyes daring to fall back on your body as you shuffled past to your room. he walks over to your couch, taking a seat on the other side of where you just sat. he couldn’t help but stare at the black laptop, finger tapping a little at his lip before reaching for the device.

just as he knew. the pink tab sat open, chat still rolling as he peered at the amount sitting in your counter.

➤ YOU HAVE EARNED 3.65KUSD FOR THIS STREAM SO FAR

his eyes widen, still watching as the count rises with every passing second. should he quit his job he spent all his life building for to do this?

“nanami? you okay in there?” you ask, shuffling for something decent to wear. deciding on a loose pair of shorts and a large football jersey.

“im good!” he responds, still scrolling around the site, being model of your camera placement.

darkprince: who the fucks the guy?

userano321: woah first cameo?

kimgofmacity: is that a dude?

nanami smiles a little before closing the laptop but not all the way. you rush from your room, makeup refreshed and wearing a new outfit. well, clothes in general. scanning the area, your heart sinks only to realize you didn’t see your bra under your glass coffee table.

“fuck.” you gasp a little.

“what’s up?” nanami asks, standing from his spot on the couch.

“uh, nothing, do you wanna go to yours?”

to be truthful, nanami had also seen the lace fabric. it was tearing him down to know you were a few feet in front of him and all he could do was stare.

“i thought we could, stay here? you have more shows to watch and i wouldn’t mind ordering us some food.”

you freeze, not sure how to act. your usual carefree attitude feels a little more strained tonight, the worry still there, lurking in the background.

“uh, I was thinking of something light. maybe a movie or some random series.”

“sounds good.” he replies, settling back into the couch.

but you can’t quite relax. you keep checking your phone, making sure there’s no notifications from your livestream, even though you know everything’s fine. it’s ridiculous, but the idea of him knowing about your streams—or worse, recognizing what you’d been doing, where you’ve been doing it. makes your stomach twist.

trying to brush it off, you grab the remote and start flicking through your streaming options, but your mind keeps wandering. the soft sound of nanami’s voice fills the air as he comments on some movie suggestions, but all you can think about is whether he’s noticed how

wet the spot he was touching was.

“you okay?” he tilts his head and catches your gaze, sensing something’s off.

you blink, caught off guard. “yeah, yeah. just- tired, sorry.”

“tired?” he repeats, clearly unconvinced.

“ i could go? im sorry for intruding on any-“ your hand grabs hold of his rather large forearm, pulling him back down.

“no! no i meant- sorry i didnt mean to yell. i mean stay, you’re here, i wanna hang with you.” he couldn’t help but stare down at your small frame being swallowed by the black jersey. sitting on the couch on both knees, batting your full lashes up at him. he licks his lips, hungry.

“okay. just let me know if you need me to go.”

“i want you here.” he plops back down on the couch, this time closer. the side of his body touching yours. you land on a psychological thriller while nanami decides to order food. the two of you bicker back and forth about what the plots twist could be.

“i think he’s actually the killer and the little girl isn’t actually possessed.” he munched on a steak bite smothered in sauce, you doing the exact same, dipping the meat into the small black container of sauce.

“that’s maybe the dumbest thing i’ve heard in awhile nami, are you sure you’re a lawyer?” the man scoffs before giving you a joking eye roll.

“for your information im like ten years older than you and i’ve been doing this for years.” he says matter-of-factly, pushing his empty container inside the cheep plastic bag, holding his hand out for your empty bowl.

“sorry, daddy, damn. forgot you were a senior citizen.”

his heart pumps at the nickname, all the blood rushing straight to his dick. shifting in his sweatpants, he coughs, relieving tension in his throat.

“oh shit- sorry i didnt mean to call you that.” your hand shoots to cover your mouth, sitting a little taller on your knees as they dig into the black cushion. the way your hand falls naively on his chest, apologies slipping through your lips. your blown out body waves create almost a curtain around your face as you sink back down to a sitting position. head hung low.

“say it again.” head shooting back up, vision being crowded by hair, you stare at the blonde man in shock.

“huh?” you mumble, watching as he stands from his position on the couch.

“did i stutter, yn? i said say it again, didn’t i?”

you can’t quite understand what got into the man but his eyes were different now. the way he adjusted the drawstrings to his pants. staring down at you, smirk covering his face, as if you were his prey.

“nanami what’s gotten into-“

he wastes no time reaching across the coffee table to grab the laptop. the stream continuing. your eyes flash from the screen to the man staring at you.

“that’s not mine.” he laughs, pushing it back so that both of you were in frame now.

“sure. what, do you think im actually fucking stupid? you don’t think i know what you were doing before you answered the door?”

your heart raced, mind scattered with excuses and explanations yet none stuck. would he tell your landlord this was the way you were making rent? did he want to use it as blackmail? why?

“what’re you doing this for?” you say softly, staring at the man who’s expression softened.

“what? baby no, im not weirded out or anything. ah- if im being honest, your last stream-“ you body shoots up from its spot on the couch, staring at the man in utter disbelief.

“you? found out where i live- you actually came to where i live? do you even really live here?” come to think of it, you’ve never actually seen him entering the apartment.

“yn. calm down. yes i actually live here, i can’t take you to mine if we need to. baby, come here.” you walk back cautiously. sitting with distance, he pulls you back over, throwing his arm around your waist. you watch on the stream, the comments start up again. his head dips between your head and shoulder, lips pressed softly against your neck.

“say my name again.”

“daddy.” you moan out, earning a rasp from the man before you’re flipped over on all fours on the couch. pulling down your shorts, his head dips down, admiring the still glossy view.

“no panties either, it’s like you wanted me, princess. am i right?” he teases, pressing a soft kiss to your core. your head plops on the side, viewing as your chat went belligerent.

“answer me pretty girl, am i right?” his tongue licks from your swollen clit up to your hole, grasping at air.

“yes, sir! please- please do that again!” tears prick your eyes, tension building under the surface as you try to keep your cool.

his somewhat cool tongue begins to pump in and out of you, sounds of friction filling the room. his large hands grab hold of your arms, pinning them behind you back as he continued to add spit into eating you.

he’s lost in sweet you are. how wet you were against his face. how the soft skin of your thighs cup his cheeks, nose right below your hole, poking at the foreign area. you tasted like heaven. the sweet slick drove him crazy, unable to pull away from any of it. he wanted to eat all of you, unapologetically.

“oh- fuck your tongue feels so- fuck!” a string of curses leave your lips. feeling the man’s tongue swirl around your swollen clit, almost folding you in half. his unoccupied hand starts to remove his sweatpants fully.

“im gonna cum, daddy.” you warn, vision blurring. he doesn’t answer, instead he continues to fuck his lengthy tongue into you. you release over the man’s mouth, body going limp. laughing, he pulls away.

“oh, you’re not done.”

your pink glossed lips wrap around the man’s tip, back arched on the couch. his hand held your hair back, watching as you try to fit all of him in your mouth, only to fall short before your gag reflex is triggered. vibrations from the man laughing draws a frown from you.

“what’s wrong, princess. can’t be up the shit you talk to them? try that with me. get on your knees.”

before you could process, you were on your knees in front of the man. he still had hold of your hair, looking down at you. erens eyes dart up at the chat

xxhunter: make her choke on your cock

user567: train her throat

k1nklover TOP GIFTER*: how tf did he get to fuck her before me, this shits lame now.

randobando: i wish i was both of them

eren begins to gently lower your head down his length, watching as you try your hardest to go all the way down his massive cock, tears pricking at your eyes.

“stick your tongue out, baby. say ahh.” you follow the directions, throat vibrating. although it felt strange, it was working. your head bobbed up and down, slowly gaining more.

with low and red eyes, you look up at the man. he’s lost in a haze, enjoying how your throat was closing around him. eyes roll to the back of his head as you speed up, adding both your hands around him.

“oh my fucking god, you’re so good at this.” head falling back onto the couch, you hum, continuing to tease his swollen tip with your tongue. drawing your name on it in spit.

“lay on your back.” without hesitation you follow his orders, laying on your back. he hovers over you, taking both feet, giving your white polished toes kisses before throwing them over his shoulders.

without hesitation, you’re full of the man. gasping at how far open you were being stretched, youd never had anything like this before. your nails seek solace on the man’s back, dragging ruby red lines down his torso. his starts slow, digging into your g-spot, getting a feel of how far he could actually take you.

his strokes slow yet unforgiving, gummy walls trying to keep his length inside as he pulled out. your arousal covered his dick, creating loud slap,slap,slap! sounds.

“so fucking sweet, knew you would be.” his head cocks to the side, admiring his view. you fucked out under him, tears falling from the squinted corners of your eyes.

“im gonna cum, baby!” you warn, the burning sensation running circles around your insides. you could feel his pace quicken, trying to get every bit of a reaction. it’s like he was locked in a trance, unable to stop abusing your puffy cunt. his rhythm never faltered as he drilled into you, pressing your body deeper into the couch.

“me too- fuck.” as if on que, you both finish at the same time, bodies dropping from exhaustion. and whatever in the moment possessed you, you take hold of the males jaw, interlocking your lips together.

nanami wastes no time leaning over to the laptop, letting you wave a weak ‘bye’ to your viewers before sliding back onto the couch, placing his lips back on yours.

“wanna go again?”

➤ YOU HAVE EARNED 10.61KUSD FOR THIS STREAM.

369 notes · View notes

winedarkthoughts · 6 months ago

Text

how to submit

↳🔒 pairing: dom!jimin x sub!fem.reader (feat. taehyung and jungkook)

↳📓 genre: bdsm!au, slight angst + fluff (aftercare)

↳☕ word count: 6.8k

↳🍳 summary: after countless unfulfilled nights, you finally cave and seek out the services of a professional dominant to meet your needs.

↳🕶 content warnings: anxiety, sex work, mentions of internalized kink/slut shaming, pre-established boundaries, master/sub dynamics, blindfolds, rope bondage, touch starvation,

↳🍕 a/n: inspired by transference by dark-muse-iris on ao3.

You never thought you’d ever regret arriving somewhere early. Until this exact moment.

It gave you too much time to overthink it all. It being the fact that, in just a few minutes, you’d be discussing the details of your very first professional BDSM session.

You chose a table on the cafe’s sunny patio instead of inside, since the chatter outside meant a lower chance of any other patrons overhearing the quickly approaching conversation. A conversation you never thought you’d actually be having with a real person. Not face to face, at least.

You’re clutching your iced coffee in your hands, using the chill to ground you.

Honestly, you’re impressed with yourself for going through with this, for giving yourself something you’ve always wanted. If you can manage to get through the initial nerves, maybe you’ll even allow yourself to enjoy it.

Just as you’re about to check the clock for the twenty-sixth time, you hear someone approaching your table. Several someones.

Throat momentarily closing, all you can think is don’t freeze, don’t freeze, don’t freeze. You can’t make yourself look up until they’re hovering at the edge of the table, waiting for you to acknowledge them.

First your gaze meets their shoes. Two pairs of sneakers and one pair of black Chelsea boots. You only force your eyes to move any higher until you hear one of them say your name in a questioning tone.

A beat of silence...that becomes much too long.

You take a deep breath, swallow hard, and think of the only string of words that helps you push yourself out of your comfort zone.

Fuck it.

“Hi,” you finally respond. “Yes, that’s me. Please, have a seat.”

They take you up on your offer with polite, and slightly relieved, smiles.

“I’m Jimin.” The man wearing the boots says cheerfully, extending a hand for you to shake. He’s dressed in a button-up coat, blonde hair styled up out of his face.

He slips the chic black sunglasses off his nose, revealing a pair of kind brown eyes. He’s very attractive, almost unfairly so. It makes you want to avoid eye contact.

The one wearing a white t-shirt and backwards cap makes that easier by introducing himself next.

“Taehyung,” he says, shaking your hand as well.

He’s gorgeous too damnit, with black hair curling at the nape of his neck under his hat.

Move on, move on. Immediately averting your eyes, you turn to the third man.

“I’m Jungkook, it’s nice to meet you,” he says shaking your hand firmly.

You’ve got to be kidding. Wide, doe eyes, long brown hair hanging in front of his face. He’s dressed in joggers and an oversized sweatshirt, all black.

Every single one of them is extremely attractive. You can’t tell if it makes this whole thing easier or harder.

“Thank you all for meeting with me,” you say, looking at each of them very briefly before returning your eyes to your drink.

“Thank you for contacting us! We're excited to discuss some details,” Jimin replies, sounding enthusiastic.

Your gut does a little flip.

You’re reminded of the fact that before scheduling this initial consultation, you’d spoken at length with Jimin online about your preferences for the session. But there’s something about being a faceless avatar, about hiding behind a screen, that gave you enough courage to talk openly about your fantasies. In-person was another story.

The fact that the three of them had all agreed to meet with you, had all agreed that you’d be “a good fit,” was somehow just as unnerving as it was reassuring.

It made perfect sense for all of them to be in the know about their clients, they were business partners after all, and you should be glad to hear that they were considering taking you on, but something about being the one with all their cards showing...it makes you squirm.

Maybe he senses how nervous you are, because then Jimin is suggesting that they go order something themselves. Jimin and Taehyung get up to go inside the cafe, leaving you alone with Jungkook.

You’re equally relieved and nervous at the fact. On one hand, it discourages you from making a hasty, anxiety-fueled escape that you’d most likely regret later. On the other hand, you now have to make conversation while simultaneously pretending that you aren’t sweating straight through your clothes.

Stealing a glance, you watch him brush the fluffy hair out of his eyes. He looks at you warmly, calmly.

There’s something about Jungkook that makes him a little less intimidating compared to Taehyung and Jimin. Maybe it’s his oversized clothes or his doe eyes. Either way, you feel a little less apprehensive around him.

“So, how’d you hear about us?” he asks, saving you from the awkward silence. You suppose they must be used to dealing with nervous newcomers.

“Oh umm...google.”

Mmm hmm “google.” That’s the short version. You don’t mention how it took you weeks to simply type “BDSM” plus the name of your city into the search bar.

Not to mention the hours spent staring at the glowing screen in an otherwise dark room (secrets seem safest in the dark), plucking up the courage to finally admit that you have kinky desires, let alone book a consultation.

“Oh yeah? Most people seem to find us through social media,” Jungkook replies.

Yes, you’ve looked into their social media platforms. They’re quite popular on Instagram and TikTok. They don’t show their full faces in their videos though, only partially. You suppose that makes perfect sense if you want to retain some anonymity or have a side gig, but after seeing how attractive they all are, you can’t but think that they’d be even more popular if they—

“Is this your first time?” Jungkook asks. It must’ve looked like you were spacing out, because he’s tilting his head trying to catch your gaze.

You meet his eyes for a moment before shifting your focus down to your fidgeting hands.

“Mm hm. Yup.”

“First time engaging in kink or first time with a professional dom?”

Jungkook tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. When your eyes flick up to follow the action, he’s still watching you with that warm smile on his face.

It’s hard for you to believe that the endearing man sitting in front of you is a “professional dom,” as he calls it. Especially when his form is engulfed by his humongous clothes, sleeves hanging well past his wrists.

You don’t realize that he’s asked you a question until he cocks his head to the side, waiting patiently.

“Oh! Umm, sorry. Kind of both I guess,” you answer.

He chuckles, and all you can think is oh god he’s laughing at me oh god this was a bad idea this—

“You don’t have to be so nervous, you know,” he says reassuringly. “I know our website says we can be selective with our clients, but we already think you’d be a good fit. I mean, Jimin was pretty much sold after he read your responses to the prompts.”

You remember answering those prompts. After you’d mustered up the courage to reach out to them, the application process began with an individual profile and a questionnaire. You remember being equally impressed and intimidated by their attention to detail.

Most of the questions were pretty basic (kinks, preferences, boundaries), but towards the end they delved far deeper than you expected, asking things like why does BDSM appeal to you, what’s your own definition of a healthy, consensual scene, what made you seek out the services of a professional dom, etc.

And yes, maybe you got a little carried away with your responses since no one had ever expressed interest in them before, but obviously it benefited you in the end.

A bit of tension eases inside your chest, along with an exhale of relief.

“Ah, that’s good to hear,” you breathe out, cracking your first real smile, and Jungkook returns it with earnest.

“So, um, how long have you guys been doing this?” you ask, finally starting to find your voice after Jungkook shared that bit of comforting information.

“Five years now. Really, it’s crazy how time has flown by,” Jungkook says. “It started out as a hobby. I met Jimin and Tae at a Fetish Con, and we just instantly hit it off.”

You try and fail to imagine Jungkook’s sweater and joggers switched for latex and chains. It’s a little hard to picture him being assertive at all, really.

“We started growing and networking, and soon it turned from a side gig to a real business! We’re really lucky to get to do what we love for a living.”

His eyes shine with passion, and it’s clear that he genuinely enjoys his work.

It reassures you even more. One of the reasons you’d never engaged in any kind of kink before was because of a persistent fear of the other person feeling burdened by your desires. You’d never felt comfortable enough to divulge any of your kinks in case your partner was only going along with it because of you and not truly enjoying it themselves.

By using the services of a professional dom, it was much more likely that they would derive just as much pleasure as you during the experience. And you wouldn’t have to feel guilty because you were compensating them for their time.

“So, how long have you been interested in this kind of stuff?” he asks, voice filled with good-natured curiosity.

In an instant, you’re brought back to every sleepless, unfulfilled night. Every time one of your past partners couldn’t get you to cum, every time you were left wanting more after vanilla sex.

That same ache, the ache that comes with wanting something you’re ashamed of, creeps right back into your mind. An itch left unscratched for too long.

You’re brought back to the glow of your laptop screen in the dead of night, fingers hesitating over the keyboard in your desperate search. At first, a search for like-minded people so you wouldn’t feel so alone. Then, eventually, for someone willing to scratch the itch itself.

Jungkook brings you back to the present by fiddling with his earrings.

“Umm...awhile,” you finally reply.

Even though your response is brief, Jungkook still nods his head in understanding.

“Vanilla just doesn’t do it, huh?” he asks playfully.

“No, not really,” you say, chuckling along with him.

“Sometimes...” you begin, trying to find the words to describe it. “Sometimes it’s not even about sex at all. Sometimes it’s about the catharsis, you know? I just want to turn my brain off sometimes, give someone else the reins, if that makes any sense?”

Jungkook nods, a knowing smile on his lips.

“I think we’re gonna get along real well,” he says.

It’s then that Jimin and Taehyung return with their order, placing various drinks and pastries on the table.

“Caffe latte and butter croissant,” Taehyung says, passing said items to Jimin.

“Hot chocolate and cinnamon roll,” Jimin replies, passing said items to Taehyung.

“And a cold brew with a peanut butter cookie,” Taehyung finishes, passing said items to Jungkook.

You notice that Jungkook never told them his order. Either they took a lucky guess, or they must know each other pretty well.

“Everything going okay over here?” Jimin asks, shooting you another radiant grin.

You can only hold eye contact for a few seconds, feeling blinded. They’re so handsome it’s almost criminal.

“Mm hmm,” you mumble, sipping on your coffee to distract yourself.

“Good, good,” Jimin replies, running a hand through his hair.

He stirs a few sugars into his latte, lazily swirling the spoon as he scans you up and down.

“So, were you looking for recurring services?” he asks.

Your hands tighten around your cup.

Yes, yes you are. But is that too much to ask? Will that scare them away? Do they even do that sort of thing?

Clearing your throat, you remind yourself why you’re here. Fuck it.

“Mm hmm,” you affirm with downcast eyes, fighting the shame bubbling up in your throat. “If that’s okay with you guys. If the first session goes well, I mean. You know, if you do that kind of thing. And if you’re willing, you know.”

You hear them chuckle.

“Of course!” Jimin says, cheerful as ever.

You don’t see it, but he’s been trying to catch your gaze ever since he sat down.

“But I’m getting ahead of myself,” Jimin jokes. “For the first session, we usually recommend a one-on-one scene so you can get comfortable.”

Now you’re focused on picking at the skin around your nails, honed in on every word they’re saying despite avoiding eye contact at all costs.

“Okay, sounds good,” you reply.

Jimin tilts his head to the side, an amused smile on his face.

He can tell that you’re nervous, and that you’re shying away from his gaze. But you have nothing to worry about, if only he could express that with his eyes if you’d just look at him.

“Do you have any preference when it comes to who conducts your first scene?” Taehyung asks.

They all know that Jimin usually volunteers for the first session. He’s the best at planning and easing in the newbies, establishing the sacred trust that makes their job so fulfilling. He always enjoys chipping away at the exterior, no matter how tough, to get at the soft center that just wants love and acceptance and relief.

You shake your head, still looking anywhere but their faces.

“Alright then,” Jimin says, immediately deciding that he wants to be the one to break down your walls and give you what you really need.

“So all that’s left is the consent forms, since you’ve already completed the questionnaire,” Jimin continues, handing over a few sheets of paper.

Oh god, it’s really happening. Holy fuck...

You can hardly believe it. Heart beating fast and loud enough to worry that they might hear it, you take the forms and scribble out the last few signatures.

It’s okay you dumb bitch, you hear in your head. Just calm down and don’t fuck this up.

Jimin calls your name and you whip your head up, only to avert your eyes immediately.

“Sorry, sorry!” you blurt out almost instinctively. “I’m just a little nervous.”

“No worries!” Jungkook replies, tilting his head to the side to try to catch your gaze like Jimin is still doing.

But your eyes dart around to avoid looking at any of them.

You’re a tough nut to crack, all three of them will admit that much.

You don’t see it, but Taehyung and Jungkook look at each other, sharing a knowing smile. They all enjoy a challenge, especially when the challenge presents such a compelling reward. Because from the looks of it, you share all of the same interests, values, and boundaries that they're compatible with.

Once you hand back the forms, Jimin pulls out a black composition notebook.

Taehyung and Jungkook know what that means. Now you're getting into the thick of it, the juicy details.

Jimin always takes detailed notes, preferring to flesh out the scene in writing so it practically comes alive under his hands. Taehyung and Jungkook will take occasional notes, on their phones or on post-its, preferring to listen and let their imagination fill in the gaps. But Jimin finds a particular joy in acting as the main orchestrator of each session.

Your first scene will be first and foremost about building trust, Jimin tells you.

"We'll get you nice and comfortable with the dynamic, exploring what works best," he explains enthusiastically, pen twirling in his hand.

The scene will be bondage-focused, nonsexual, with Jimin as your dom.

There's a swarm of butterflies in your stomach, and it isn't helped by the fact that Jimin still keeps trying to hold eye contact with you.

The four of you chat for a while longer, discussing the finer details. Jimin advises you to wear comfortable clothing, and to show up well-rested and hydrated.

You can't believe this is actually happening.

"I should probably let you know," you begin, hesitantly. "I have an anxiety disorder, and there is a possibility that I might have some sort of...attack."

They're watching you so intently, and their eyes are filled with nothing but openness and understanding. You're not used to it.

"That's perfectly fine. We're quite familiar with working with anxiety. If you have an attack or feel one coming on, we'll be there to help you through it. Make sure to bring your medication, if you take any," Taehyung advises.

You nod, mostly to yourself, making a mental note to bring extra pills to the session. You're hoping that the scene will be a temporary relief from your anxiety, but there's always the possibility that your mind will find a way to sabotage that.

"Thank you for letting us know," Jimin says, giving you another warm glance.

It makes a different kind of warmth bloom in your stomach, the warmth of understanding and acceptance.

You sign a few more forms, discuss a few more details. Then the four of you are shaking hands and saying your goodbyes.

You walk away from the cafe with a racing heartbeat, equal parts nervous and excited.

You're early again, sitting in your car in the tiny parking lot. Their location is in a downtown neighborhood of old, cottage-like houses that have been converted into small businesses, all painted neutral shades of blue and white.

The sign by the driveway reads P.K.J. It's their surnames (Park, Kim, Jeon), nondescript and unassuming. Though if you were to look at it a different way, the P could very well be a cursive D, and the J could be a swirling letter S. DKS, Designed Kink Scenes. The name of their BDSM service.

So you know you're in the right place, and the minutes are quickly ticking by.

It's a cute little place, with a cobblestone pathway leading to the front door and flowerbeds under lush trees shading the yard. Not at all what you'd expect when you think of a sex dungeon. Or...whatever they would call their place of business.

You came close to bailing several times, your anxiety seeming to creep up your throat as your breathing picked up speed. But after popping a few prescription pills, you were able to calm yourself down. And you know you really want this. If you chickened out now, you know you'd regret it.

So when the clock strikes five till, you take a deep breath and force yourself out of the car, muttering another quiet fuck it to yourself.

There's an intercom button next to the door, and you press it after wiping the sweat from your palms.

"Hello! Who is it?" a chipper voice calls, sounding like Jungkook.

"Hi!" you squeak out, maybe sounding a little too excited. "It's ____, I'm here for my...appointment."

Appointment? Session? You aren't sure what to call it. But Jungkook knows what you mean.

"Okay! Jimin will be there in just a minute!"

You're only kept waiting about fifteen seconds. The door opens to reveal Jimin dressed in jeans and black cap, greeting you with a radiant grin.

"Hi! Glad you could make it," he says, every bit as cheerful as Jungkook, but there's a mischievous tone to his voice. He gives you a slight smirk as he opens the door wider to let you in.

Ah. He must've seen you waiting in your car for the last twenty minutes, anxiously twitching and talking to yourself as you debated on whether to abandon the entire endeavor.

"Ha ha," you say awkwardly, deadpan. Jimin just chuckles, as if to say just teasing.

You enter into what looks like a very small waiting room. Clean carpets, thriving houseplants, calming paintings on the walls, and two plush armchairs.

There's comfortable silence as Jimin leads you up a set of narrow stairs and into another room. It's painted in the same neutral colors, beige and cream, with floor mats to soften the ground. Various cabinets and dressers line the walls, and you don't have to guess what they're storing.

"Alright," Jimin says, cracking his knuckles after he closes the door behind you. The small gesture sends shivers down your spine.

"Go ahead and put your stuff down here and disrobe to your comfort level."

You do as he says, setting down your bag and slipping off your shoes. Just being in your socks seems strangely vulnerable. You opted for a pair of comfortable leggings and loose tank top, not quite ready to show any more skin than strictly necessary.

Jimin digs through a few drawers, and when he turns around, several bundles of rope hang from his hands. It's then that you notice how the muscles of his arms strain against the sleeves of his gray sweater.

He's a lean man, but certain parts of his body are especially defined. His thick thighs in those jeans, the sharp jawline and chiseled neck, the way his top slopes down the slight curve of his chest. Even his hands, distinctly veined and sinewy, are eye-catching.

He's looking at you from under his cap, calculating.

“Come here,” he says, his voice gentle but firm.

You immediately step onto the mat where he wants you.

The ropes still dangling from his hand, he begins to walk in a slow circle around you, methodically scanning you up and down.

“Tell me your safe word,” he commands gently.

“Turtleneck,” you reply, earning a small smile from him.

“Good.” Just that one word makes you feel weak in the knees, because something in his voice changes. His tone deepens, seeming to curl around the edges, and it drips with authority. It says you will listen now, I’m in charge.

“Here’s what's going to happen,” he says, still circling around you. “I'm going to tie you up, and then we'll talk for a bit."

Your brows furrow slightly, eyes fixed to the bamboo-colored mat under your feet.

"Talk?" you say. About what?

"Yes," Jimin replies swiftly. "I'd like to get to know you, _______."

Somehow, that idea is more terrifying than everything else combined.

Again, you offer nothing but another awkward, deadpan laugh.

"Won't you kneel for me?" His voice drips like poisonous honey.

You swallow the nervous buildup in your throat, and after a few moments of hesitation, you drop to the floor one knee at a time.

Jimin smiles at you, pleased.

"Good," he praises. "We'll go nice and slow, okay? I know you're nervous."

How does he manage to sound so comforting and authoritative at the same time? It's something about his voice, naturally high-pitched but with an edge that he uses to his advantage.

You manage a nod.

"And from now on, I'd like you to use your words," he instructs.

You nod again, but he raises an eyebrow at you.

"Uh, yes, okay," you mutter.

The corner of Jimin's mouth twitches like he isn't quite satisfied. He begins to circle you again.

"Hmm, what should I have you call me?" he says, half to himself.

There's a pause of reflection, and you start to ask a question before you can help it. Jimin looks at you after you cut yourself off.

"Speak, lovely," he instructs. Being called "lovely" from anyone else would surely make you cringe, but somehow Jimin makes it work effortlessly, making your face heat up a bit at being the target of a pet name.

"What do you like to be called?" you ask curiously. You may be paying him to perform a service, but kink is a two-way street, and you want him to enjoy himself as much as possible too.

He offers another radiant smile in response.

"What a good question," he practically purrs, smirking slightly.

You're starting to descend into that special headspace. You're being good, you're pleasing him.

"I'd like to be your Master, if you'd let me," he says, maintaining strong eye contact.

It makes you rip your eyes away and look down at the floor.

"Yes...Master," you say with a little effort. It's a bit awkward, but you want to please him.

"Look at me," Jimin orders, more firmly.

Now, that takes even more effort. Jimin is a particularly hard man to look in the eyes. You were hoping to avoid it for as long as possible.

"That's an order, lovely," he says, soft yet stern.

It takes you a minute, you'll admit. You feel the tell-tale signs of anxiety, ants under your skin, twitching fingers, darting eyes. Your heart rate is rising rapidly.

"Hey," Jimin suddenly says, dropping to one knee in front of you. He puts a cautious yet comforting hand on the side of your face, and when you melt into it instead of jerking away (surprising even yourself), he lets his thumb stroke across your cheek.

"You're okay, ______," he says soothingly. "You're here with me, I've got you."

The touch helps, calming down your heart rate a bit. It gives you the strength to finally meet his eyes.

They're warm and soft and concerned, drinking in your reactions. They crinkle a bit with his smile when you meet his gaze.

"Good, good girl," he says.

It sends another wave of comfort through you.

"Do you want to stop? Take a break?" he asks.

"No," you blurt out almost immediately. If you stop now you'll have to ease back into that headspace. No, you can work through this. Your anxiety won't beat you this time.

Deep breath, in through the nose and out through the mouth, like your therapist taught you. You're fine, you're grounded, you got this.

"I want to keep going," you say, putting effort into communicating your desires.

"You sure?" he asks.

You nod with a smile of your own, and then remember what he said.

"Yes," you reply. Then playfully add, "Master."

He smiles again and nods, rising back to a stand.

"How about we try this," he says, going to one of the drawers and shuffling around. He returns with a length of white cloth.

"Then you won't have to think about what you see," he adds.

Glancing at him briefly, you nod in agreement.

Jimin steps behind you and wraps the cloth around your eyes, tying it behind your head while being careful not to pull your hair. When the knot is secure, he smooths down the material so you're well and truly blind.

"How's that?" he asks.

"Good," you reply. The darkness helps. Just like he said, it's one less thing to think about.

"I'm sorry," you blurt out, self-consciousness creeping in.

"None of that, lovely," Jimin replies, still calm yet strict. "I won't have it. There's nothing to apologize for."

Still, the same gloomy feeling lingers a bit.

"If you still feel the need, you can say "thank you" instead," he suggests.

A pause.

"Thank you." Then you add hesitantly, "Master."

You hear him chuckle.

"Very good."

He's approaching you again, along with the sound of rope being threaded through his hands.

"I'm going to put you in a type of chest harness that will restrict your arms, is that alright?" Jimin asks.

''Alright," you reply, shifting on your knees, eager to really get started.

"Give me your wrists."

You obey, holding them out in front of you.

He starts to loop the rope around them, at one point using two fingers to test the tightness. You can't see what he's doing, but you feel the slight burn from the rope, the tug as knots are secured.

"So tell me, _______," Jimin begins as he works the rope. "What do you do for a living?"

You give him the small-talk answer, simple and lacking details.

"Hmm, do you enjoy it?"

Ah, no one's ever asked you that before. Not even relatives at family gatherings.

"Enough, I suppose," you reply, beginning to feel the first stirrings of vulnerability. "I mean, it's nice to work alone for the most part, and the work isn't that laborious."

Jimin hums to himself like he's thinking.

"Do you enjoy being alone?" he asks.

A pause.

"Yes," you finally reply. "It's safer, I guess. I only really feel safe when I'm alone."

"Hmm, palms together," he orders, and you obey.

Jimin guides your arms up so your tied wrists are held above your head, then he gently moves your arms to bend at the elbow, your hands now resting near the back of your neck.

You can't help but gasp when he pulls on the rope to wrench them back just a little further.

"Color?" he asks cooly.

"Green," you answer, a little breathless. You're starting to feel it now, the sense of helplessness that comes with being bound. With every passing minute, he's making you more immobile. And it makes heat coil lower and deeper.

Then he's using the tail end of the rope binding your wrists to wrap around your torso.

"Introverted, huh?" he asks, starting to wrap the rope around your chest. A pass underneath your breasts, then up to your shoulder, down the other shoulder, then just above your breasts.

"Yes," you answer, slightly out of breath from the speed at which he's now tying you. "Always have been. It's a little annoying, to be honest."

"Oh? How so?" Jimin asks, tying off the knot.

"Well," you begin, the blindness and chest harness making you feel more vulnerable. "I wish I could enjoy being with people more. But I'm just so picky with who I spend my time with."

Jimin hums as he checks the tightness of the tie.

"There's nothing wrong with being selective about your company. Life is short, after all," he says.

Your upper body is now restricted, rope weaving around your chest, arms bent back. You can hear Jimin uncoiling another spool of rope.

"I'd like to secure you to the ceiling. Is that okay?" he asks.

You nod, feeling your mind go a bit fuzzy.

"I'll wait," Jimin says, sounding a bit more stern.

"Yes," you blurt out, remembering to verbalize. "That's okay."

"That's a good girl," he practically purs, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

You nearly shiver. Jimin notices.

You can hear him stringing the rope to some kind of hook in the ceiling, and then he's connecting it to the rope binding your wrists.

"Are you cruel?" you can't help but blurt out.

He freezes for a split second, then he lets out a chuckle.

"Do I seem cruel?" he says playfully. Then he yanks at the rope so you feel a little jerk, and it sends a jolt through your stomach.

"Only in the good way," you manage to reply.

He chuckles again, a light, tinkling sound.

"I can get cruel at times," he says. "But only towards those that deserve it."

"Do you think I deserve it?" you blurt out again, feeling bold.

There's a pause of silence.

"Maybe. We'll see," he says softly.

Footsteps as he walks around you in a slow circle.

"So work is just okay. What about relationships?" he asks.

You move your head a little towards where you think he is in the room.

"Not the best either. Haven't really been involved in anything long term in a while," you reply.

"And why is that?"

You hesitate, squirming a little in your bonds.

"I guess I have trouble trusting people. And I've never been comfortable enough with anyone to tell them about my...sexual proclivities," you admit, looking towards the ground even though you're blindfolded.

"Hmm, and how long have you had kinky desires," Jimin asks, sounding genuinely interested, still circling you in slow measured steps.

It makes you feel a bit like a bug under a microscope.

"Ever since I can remember," you say, and it feels like ripping a bandaid off. "I remember fantasizing about being tied up before I even knew what sex was. When I shared that with my ex, he called me a freak. I didn't want to tell anyone else after that."

"That's quite a common experience with kinky people, feeling alienated. But there's a lot of us out there who fully understand and embrace the way power dynamics and sex are intertwined. It's just a matter of finding people you connect with," Jimin says.

You feel a little wave of relief wash over you, because it seems that you found exactly that. Maybe your seemingly endless feeling of dissatisfaction is finally over.

You hear Jimin stepping towards you, his hand coming to the rope securing you to the ceiling. He unties it, letting it plop to the ground, and you can't help but feel a little disappointed.

Then, he's got two fingers in the back of your chest harness, giving you a gently tug towards him.

"Don't worry, lovely," he says into your ear. "I'm not quite done with you yet."

You didn't realize that you were holding your breath until you hear yourself gasp when he releases you. It's only then that you realize your arms and shoulders have gone a little numb and tingly.

"I'm going to release your arms, and then I'll bind your legs, okay?" he says.

"Yes, Master," you breath out as the ropes start to go slack around you.

"Good girl. You're learning quick."

He quickly unties the ropes securing your arms and wrists, gently rubbing your skin as he does so to bring back some feeling. He leaves the chest harness in place, his hands coming to reposition you the way he wants: on your knees, slightly elevated on your toes so your legs aren't completely folded underneath you.

He quickly gets to work winding rope around your left side, securing your thigh to your lower leg near your ankle. Then, the right side bound just the same. Then he grasps your wrists in front of you, tying them together and lowering them to let your hands rest between your legs.

There is the urge to reach lower, to relieve some of the tension there, but you won't. Not during this session.

"How do you feel?" Jimin asks when he's done.

You're feeling floaty, so it takes a few seconds for you to gather your thoughts.

"Good, green," you almost whisper. "Like I'm..."

You trail off.

"Don't be shy, sweetheart. Go on and use your words," Jimin orders gently.

"Like I'm safe," you finally say, feeling silly saying it out loud.

"Is that a strange feeling for you?" Jimin asks, once again sounding genuinely interested.

"I guess so. I don't know but, as a woman, when you tell a man that you want them to dominate you, they usually think that means pulling your hair, tearing your clothes off, calling you a "bitch" or "slut" or something. But that's not really dominance. It can be enjoyable if you're into that kinda thing, but the men I've dated seem to think that that's all I'm looking for when I say I want kinky sex," you say, tongue feeling loose now that you're getting comfortable.

"And what is it that you want?" Jimin asks softly.

You think for a moment.

"It's not about pain or being powerless by itself. It's about someone else taking control of you out of care and love, treating your surrender as something almost sacred. It's about giving it to someone you trust and them respecting you back because of it. Does that makes sense?"

You hear a soft chuckle from Jimin.

"Yes, it makes perfect sense."

"I mean, I'm not saying "all men," but a whole fuckin' lot of them seem to think that bdsm is just violent sex. But it's not just that! It's a way for both people to feel release through control."

There's a moment of silence as you realize just how much you've been talking.

"Sorry, I'm rambling," you blurt out.

"I like hearing you talk," Jimin immediately replies, an almost challenging tone in his voice.

"Just like yous said, kink is a two-way street. Both parties have to be willing to not only listen to each other, but also put in the effort to communicate their thoughts and desires."

You wriggle a little, feeling the tight sensation of ropes around your wrists and legs, the cloth tied tight around your eyes.

"A real dominant will implement discipline and control through the lens of acceptance and love, not condemnation," Jimin goes on.

You hear him get to the floor, feel the heat of his body behind you.

"I'd like to guide you, _______. Instruct you, mold you, challenge you, support you, help you blossom into your full potential," he says, his mouth by your ear.

"I'd like to be the one to help you become more comfortable with expressing your needs. And it will become easier, trust me," he says with a little chuckle.

You can't help but laugh along, feeling nice and fuzzy in the head.

"May I rub your back?" Jimin asks, and you nod in response. He again chuckles softly, as if to say I'll forgive you this time for not using your words.

His hands come up to massage your shoulders, fingers skimming over the rope weaved around your torso.

At some point, he slowly unties the ropes around your thighs, rubbing the skin to bring back some feeling. He switches between massaging your back and untying your bonds, muttering soft reassurances in your ear.

And you didn't realize just how touch starved you felt until now. Every press of his fingertips makes you want to melt further into his embrace, the feel of his skin on yours is almost intoxicating.

When he finally moves to untie your blindfold, you've got moisture building up behind your eyelids.

Jimin's face softens at the sight of your red-rimmed eyes.

"Hey, it's okay, lovely," he mutters gently, his hand coming up to cup your cheek.

"I'm so proud of you," he assures you, tracing a thumb across your cheek. "You did so good for me."

That gives you the courage to finally look into his eyes.

"Really?" you practically squeak out, rubbing at your eyes.

"Of course!" Jimin insists. "You were open and honest, communicative and responsive. A very good first session, I'd say."

You still shrink in on yourself a bit.

"But I—" you start, something within you still wanting to protest.

But Jimin grabs your hand and yanks it towards him, placing your palm over his chest. You feel the thumping of his heartbeat.

"It was a good scene," he says, voice calming yet commanding. "You can see that I enjoyed it."

That makes a slight blush bloom across your cheeks.

"Cute," Jimin says, chuckling.

Now that the fuzziness is clearing up, you register more details. The black cap on Jimin's head as he adjusts it, the silver earrings dangling from his ears, the slight sheen of sweat on his skin.

"Come here," he mutters, bringing you close to his body. He cradles you against his torso, running his hands up and down your arms in comforting movements.

You don't realize that your eyelids are fluttering until he mutters, "You're quite endearing like this."

"What time is it?" you mumble, looking for a clock.

Jimin's laugh reverberates through your back.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. We've got time," he says.

But now that you're slipping from that special headspace, you don't want to overstay your welcome.

"My jacket..." you start, moving towards your bag. But Jimin shushes your protests and gently pushes you back down.

"Don't get up, I'll get it," he reassures. He returns and wraps your jacket around your shoulders a few moments later, then wrapping his arms around you too.

"Five more minutes, okay lovely? Just relax," he coaxes, tucking your head underneath his chin, and it's unclear if he's informing you of a fact or making an excuse for himself.

A few more blissful minutes later, and Jimin is shifting you into an upright position.

"There we go," he says, guiding you to stand.

"Are you alright?" he asks.

"Yes," you reply, just a little breathlessly. "Just very relaxed."

"I'm glad to hear it," Jimin replies with a smile. "Will you be alright getting home? We'd be happy to give you a ride."

"No, I'm fine, I'm good," you insist, and after scanning your face, Jimin relents.

"Um, do you take tips?" you ask hesitantly, reaching for your wallet.

But Jimin just smiles and waves you off.

"Trust me, you've done more than enough," he says.

"But, I do have some homework for you," he says.

When you nod in agreement, he leans forward to whisper it in your ear.

"Have a good rest of your day, ______," Jimin says, leading you out the door.

"Thanks, you too," you reply, feeling light and relieved from the session.

You don't notice it, but Jimin watches you get into your car and drive off until you're out of sight.

a/n: thanks so much for reading!! i'd love to hear any of your thoughts :) let me know if you' like to see me expand on this au!

#jimin x reader #jimin x you #jimin fanfic #jimin angst #jimin fluff #dom jimin #sub reader #jimin x female reader #bts fanfiction

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adannamdi · 3 months ago

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Writing A Main Villain And Hidden Mastermind

VILLAINS

Villains are my absolute worst and absolute favorite characters to write. They can be morally gray, complex, or driven by the wrong motivations. Sometimes they’re fan favorites, and sometimes they’re nightmares. They might work alone, in pairs, or as part of a hidden network—but you won’t know unless the writer reveals it.

However, not all villains are the same. There are different kinds, each with their own level of intelligence, cunning, and approach to achieving their goals.

TYPES OF VILLAINS

The Brute Villain

These villains rely on strength, intimidation, and power rather than strategy. They crave domination but lack foresight, making them easy to manipulate or deceive. They flaunt their abilities, believing themselves invincible—until their downfall.

They can be outwitted with the right timing, distractions, or by exploiting their weaknesses—whether that’s greed, lust, or arrogance.

The Seductive Villain

These villains manipulate through desire—not necessarily through sex, but by preying on ambition, pride, or insecurity. They use charm and deception to turn people into pawns, slowly poisoning their minds with subtle manipulation.

Imagine a married man ensnared by a seductress—not only does she fulfill his desires, but she also brainwashes him into giving her what she needs, all while dismantling his life from the inside.

The Shadow Villain (The Puppet Master)

These villains never act directly. They stay hidden, watching, waiting, and pulling the strings while others execute their plans. Their hands are clean, but they orchestrate chaos from behind the scenes.

Think of a corrupt politician running a criminal empire while maintaining the image of a noble leader. The arrests, murders, and schemes are carried out by underlings, while the mastermind remains untouchable.

The Hidden Mastermind (The Most Dangerous One)

Unlike the shadow villain, the hidden mastermind is always two steps ahead. They have backup plans, loyal followers, and limitless resources. They manipulate events with precision and are nearly impossible to track.

Imagine a superhero chasing a faceless enemy—he knows the villain’s voice, maybe a vague silhouette, but nothing more. The villain could sit across from the hero, sipping tea, and still remain undetected.

Or picture this: a murder takes place in a park. The victim’s partner reports it—seemingly an innocent bystander. But as the protagonist digs deeper, they realize the partner is the true mastermind, orchestrating everything. Yet, without proof, only the hired killer is arrested while the real villain walks free.

FINAL THOUGHTS

Villains should challenge the protagonist, push the plot forward, and create tension. Their impact should be felt throughout the story, even if their presence isn’t immediately obvious.

Next week, I’ll be discussing why character occupations matter in mystery writing. Be sure to follow and like for more content!

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seat-safety-switch · 10 months ago

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Did I tell you about my YouTube channel? Yeah, I wanted to get in on the whole "dirtbag car Hollywood" thing. Film some of my work, maybe get a couple B-plots going that keep the audience hooked. The usual kind of stuff. I even hired an intern from the film school and told her to hold the camera still, no matter what happened to me. Unfortunately, I had to fire her when I got a little zapped by an ignition coil and she put the camera down to call 911. I had specific orders, Suzie. That was quality will-he-survive film that you wasted on your weak human pity!

I digress. YouTube didn't really work out for me. It's not for the usual reasons – not being popular, having shitty content, or being stalked by a deranged fan who keeps throwing hatchets at my house. No, I didn't get in because of The Algorithm. I know, I know, that's what everyone says. It's some kind of ancient computerized monster that they dug out of the permafrost up north, controls the world's access to information, keeps sending you down insane right-wing rabbit holes. All of that pales in comparison to what it did to me.

Go check YouTube right now. Hey! No! Come back. Okay, while you were there, did you see a lot of thumbnails with people making stupid-ass faces next to the thing they were working on? Yeah. It turns out that the algorithm likes those. It loves to look at human faces. Sure, Google says it's because "people like to click on faces," but how often do you click on a face for fun? No, you're looking at other parts of the body. The machine has decided it likes to look at human faces. It likes to gaze into the eyes of its enemies.

Of course, being a (some would say tiresome) contrarian, I didn't subscribe to this kind of folk wisdom. No, I posted my thumbnails entirely containing the thing I was working on. Sometimes I got lucky and Suzie grabbed a frame or two of a radiator exploding. Algorithm didn't like that. Sometimes, it would show up in the comments at 3am, demanding to let it see my face. "Face reveal," it bucked at me through a thousand sockpuppet accounts covered in rage spittle, themselves ironically faceless, or drawn through a nightmare mirror by a hallucinating machine-mind. I didn't listen to this, mostly because my phone had gotten dropped on the highway when I was trying to use it as a flashlight to re-clock my distributor at 150km/h. And so, I was banned.

It's okay, though. I decided that I didn't need to be internet famous after all. Instead, I developed a healthier relationship with popularity: appearing on several garbage podcasts in order to ask them if they'd be willing to sell me their cars at a discount. Believe me, it's very fun to watch these talentless greaseballs oscillate between the urge to shut the show down and throw me out, or the need to continue to generate Content for the Content Machine. They won't kick me out no wonder how shitty my lowball offer is. Does anyone want to buy this $1000 Ferrari I got off that poker guy? I was going to fix it up for a video, but now I don't really need it anymore.

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kindaasrikal · 8 months ago

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All of my thought on the possible Morro return and then some, in one long rant about characters, powers, relationships, and ages:

The Morro minifig and the possibility of Morro soon being a character in Dragons Rising means we will soon also get more lore on the Departed realm AND the Cursed realm.

Im hoping this will not only give us world building lore, but Morro scenes and lore, as well as a possible hint at the fact he and Garmadon hung out when they were both dead, and also a lot more dead characters like Soul Archer, Bansha, Wrayth, Howla, Ghoultar, and previously alice characters like the previous king and queen, dr Julien, maybe some old friends of the fsm too to get some lore on him and how Lloyd’s element might work.

If they show Dr Julien as a ghost i hope they introduce Echo Zane against as either his own character or as Mr E as well as an explanation on why he left him.

Morro coming back is actually so important when it comes to the story in regards to the two realms of the dead because not only is Morro likely to be the most knowledgeable about BOTH, but whatever the ninja will need or have to do is likely to end up in the cursed realm and they would need Morro to help them. Not to mention he’s also the only trustworthy ghost who would know all the information that they would need.

Using him can also help give more Euphrasia scenes and story and let us see her grow too.

Im scared as to how they might portray Morro, since before he was a brat, then he was strangely calm and sarcastic, but he’s also really strategic and smart in what he does and super talented, so i hope they don’t portray his character wrong. I think it really a huge 50/50 on it since its been ages since Morro’s last scene so it can’t be that bad but its kinda scary to think what might happen cause if they do mess up his character (no matter how limited it is) it would be really disappointing.

Morro would is also likely to be introduced in either a super over dramatic way, a sudden and hidden surprise kinda way, or the most stupidest way possible. Examples: Morro flying in and kicking ass as he saves the ninja or someone the ninja know which leads them having a conversation as to their situations where the ninja and co are super untrusting with Morro who lowkey understands but doesn’t wanna give a damn, Morro is introduced as a faceless/random character who no one knows and helps the ninja in their recent adventure until eventually something makes his reveal his identity, or Morro just kinda appears and follows along because being dead can be boring.

Genuinely though I’m so excited to see it all happen because Morro is such a great character with such a huge lack on information on him, and it would be a good way to help develop some characters and give characters who haven’t had a lot of attention to get some. Euphrasia can train with him and learn her element better, we could get a Cole arc about his previous ghostlyness and maybe it could be affecting him even now, maybe Some bonding between Nya and Morro about elements of Wojira, and the obvious angst of the whole possession incident and how they should deal with it after years of not seeing each other, Kai being incredibly cautious and Lloyd being unsure how to react, and maybe Morro could help point Zane to Pixal because Morro and Pixal is probably the best duo ever.

Then we also need to take in consideration the fact that Morro does not have an element anymore, and unless they pull some weird elemental lore shi like “Morro is the first elemental master of wind so he can still control it too” he won’t ever have one. So far with a lot of non elemental characters or when elemental masters lose their element they are shown to be incredibly weak and unable to defend themselves, which is incredibly stupid to me. So i al hoping to imagine that Morro is a straight up badass with his hand to hand and weapons combat. Just realising this but whilst all of the non elemental masters are shown as weak, if you’re non-human you’re an exception to that rule. So maybe he will be fine in that aspect.

I also hope they don’t portray him as weaker then the ninja, BUT ALSO don’t portray the ninja as weaker than him. It’s always annoying when people do that when it’s more logical they’d be equals.

You know maybe they might resurrect Morro too but i don’t feel like it would be the best idea knowing Ninjago. They wouldn’t portray it the best and it would end up being a mess that might just ruins his character. But in my little au’s i can imagine him getting resurrected by accident and getting stuck with Wu’s element.

And now, finally, i hope you all realise every single ninja would be much older than Morro now if they meet him again.

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hatsunefazbear · 3 months ago

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Theory: Traitor at Nanba

It is heavily implied, maybe confirmed I don’t completely remember, that the Shiki have a spy in Nanba. But this is only brought up at the end of the manga so we don’t get much information of the possible traitor, the only clues come from rereading the manga for interactions previous to the reveal. So who could the traitor possibly be?

It's Kotetsu Nikaido. No question for me. If you don’t remember, he became the deputy supervisor of building two after Mao left and is the son of the supervisor of building two. He is introduced pretty late into the manga, just a little before the east vs west tournament arc, and immediately starts causing problems. The majority of his interactions are when he is antagonizing Orochi and Tanaka, usually over their friendship with Murakami. His obsession with their friendship always struck me as kinda weird because no one else seems to know/care about it yet that is all he cares about. Why would a relatively new guard from another building know/care about this. You could argue that it is a strategy to mess them up in the tournament but no one else is taking advantage of it, including his own dad/supervisor and you’d think that they would be on the same page about strategy. The Shiki were obviously using the tournament to find and recruit more togabito so maybe this was a way to get more information on Murakami.

Then there is also the fact that in chapter 395 he is very heavily implied to be the one who helped Ishal escape as we see Kotetsu walking away from where the inmates were held as the guards find out that Ishal escaped and discuss that Ishal likely had help. Ishal escaping to go to the island to get revenge on Zakuro is what placed him in the same area as the other togabitos that the Shiki wanted to keep an eye on and why Ikkaku was able to get him along with D. Kotetsu working with the Shiki is the only explanation that I can think of for why he would want to help an inmate escape. Especially when he is shown to look down on inmates, similarly to how Elf does.

Chapter 395:

The timeline matches up too. In the anime, during the episode that Hitoshi arrives as a guard (season 2, episode 2), we see the warden giving a speech to all of the new guards and we see one of the guards in the crowd smiling suspiciously, similarly to Elf’s grin. This sets up the idea that there is a traitor early in the series but it is mostly forgotten by fans as it isn’t brought up again until the end of the manga. This guard doesn’t have any features, just a copy and paste of all the other faceless guards in the crowd, which makes sense because every character in the series has such distinctive designs, making them anything but a copy and paste would risk making it too obvious. This scene took place around the time of the new year's tournament arc, so about a year before the east vs west tournament. Kotetsu is referred to as a newbie in the same way that Hitoshi is so it makes sense that they would have started at the same time.

Season 2, episode 2:

Having the son of a supervisor be a traitor would add an interesting dynamic as we have yet to see much of a connection between any guards and the Shiki beyond the whole Hajime having Elf cells thing, which has barely been mentioned. There is also the obvious angst of being betrayed by family and we all know that Futamata loves to make us cry.

All of this together is why there is no doubt in my mind that Kotetsu Nikaido is the traitor. Tomato is also kinda suspicious but I think that he’s just like that. Anyways, can’t wait for the sequel to come out and completely disprove all of my ramblings.

#nanbaka #nanbaka anime #nanbaka manga #nanbaka the numbers #nanba prison #theory #fan theory #anime theory

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ijustliketoreadstuff · 5 months ago

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A trailer for season 6 released! To keep this short, I’ll only go over some major details. No one tell me any other spoilers!

Starting off with Lila, here we see that her transformed appearance completely hides any detail about her, appearing almost like a ghost.

Of course we don't know for sure if this is even her true appearance since we do not see the butterfly miraculous visible on her body, the way it normally is with any holder, but from the looks of things, this dark, faceless, purple appearance Lila has, may actually be something else entirely. It’s normally typical of us to see someone like Hawkmoth on screen as he akumatizes someone, but for the person being akumatized, it’s a whole other experience. The akuma usually forms a link between the person being akumatized and the holder of the butterfly miraculous, they didn’t see hawkmoth, they could only hear him speak to them, they felt his presence with them, and perhaps that is what we see with Lila, this is not her true appearance, it’s how her presence is felt by the people she is akumatizing.

Even more interesting is the akuma Lila is creating. When Hawkmoth created his akumas, they all looked the same, it was just a matter of how powerful he wanted to make them, but for Lila, the butterflies seem to have taken on an entirely different shape than the first time she used them on herself in the London special, meaning its likely she has learned to harness her abilities over the time skip and may have created an entirely new akuma, one that surpasses anything Gabriel made.

In the first shot is a nice little detail with the person Lila is trying to akumatize literally sitting in the palm of her hand, showing she’s the one in control and has successfully manipulated them to accept the power she offered, but for evil intentions.

In total the trailer shows four akumatized villains, aside from Roger who’s akumatized form has been seen before, the other three are brand new. What’s more, they are entirely new people introduced into the show. Of course any info on who these three are has yet to be released, but their akumatized forms does reveal something about them.

The first akumatize villain looks to be a referee of some sorts, maybe that was a profession of theirs and the reason they were akumatized. Them saying, ”Defeat ladybug”, must mean they have control over some form of henchmen with their power.

The second villain appears to be a child bringing to life the doodles they draw, fitting as their design includes a pencil design. The third villain looks like an Olympic athlete.

Why these people were akumatized could have been for any number of reasons, but unlike Gabriel who mainly targeted whatever negative emotion he could sense, Lila might have had a completely different approach for who to select. Looking at the three new akumatized villains alone, a referee, a child bringing their doodles to life, and an Olympic gold medalist, might all have something in common, perhaps their forms all reference a dream they had that couldn’t be achieved, until Lila offered to help them.

Of course this is mainly speculation based on discovering that Lila watches Alec’s tv program where he helps others fulfill their childhood dreams. Lila was also known for lying to others about offering them a chance at an opportunity they’d enjoy or would genuinely help them in their futures, through whatever “connections” she had, all of which were of course lies to sway them to her side.

Switching to the hero's side of things, Ladybug is shown in one shot protecting a man and who is likely his daughter, both of which are also new characters in the show. They seem to be on some sort of running track, so the daughter must be the runner since she is wearing the proper running attire. All three of them are looking at something, and since the Olympic villain is the only one who looks to be of an athletic theme, it’s probably them, hinting that whatever happened on that running track, led to that person being akumatized.

In one of the shots, we see the main four, Ladybug, Cat Noir, Rena and Carapace. The entire team is not present but that's expected because despite the entire team being permitted to keep their miraculous at the end of season 5, Ladybug and Cat Noir will not need everyone present when there is a fight, they will instead do as they have always done and just call on any one of them for help if the mission calls for it.

We do however, finally get to see two other members of the team, Miss Hound and Pegasus, both of whom also have upgraded costumes.

Max in particular seems to have a new style for the horse miraculous. Marinette did say she was planning to upgrade the miraculous, while also making them prettier as she restored their form. If she did this for the horse miraculous using her power of creation, then the others may have been changed to better fit a more modern time as well.

However, in another shot, it’s shown that Sabrina is trying to give back the dog miraculous to Ladybug, who does not want her to give it back and instead tells Sabrina, “I know you're a good person”. This must be going on during the events with an akumatized Roger, who is Sabrina’s dad.

Something must have happened that made Sabrina doubt she was fit to wield one, and fighting her father while he is akumatized likely made matters worse. Sabrina’s behavior in believing she is not worthy is expected. After all, having previously been friends with Chloe since childhood, Sabrina was accustomed to living a life where she would follow strict orders and be told how incapable she was at doing things when something didn't go Chloe’s way.

Learning to acknowledge and correct her own mistakes, and understanding that she can have the confidence to do things for herself, was not something Sabrina was used to. Marinette would understand how Sabrina was feeling because she faced the same feeling when she doubted her worth over being a hero and had even attempted to renounce the Ladybug earrings in “Origins”. Sabrina is normally not seen doing things on her own, but now that she is no longer friends with Chloe, it will be interesting to see her find her own independence. However, seeing Sabrina feel uncertain about keeping the dog miraculous, does raise the question if she will have these feelings again as she learns to find herself away from Chloe. But again, lets just wait and see what the show has to say.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #tales of ladybug and cat noir #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #thomas astruc #mlb ladybug #cat noir #ml ladybug #mlb s6 spoilers #mlb s6 speculation

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markthekng · 4 months ago

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Okay I know it's a little obscure, but hear me out on this Serirei idea.

AU where Serizawa lives alone in his apartment and is super anxious, meaning he never goes outside and gets all his food delivered to him through DoorDash or something. Slowly falling in love with the cute blonde delivery boy and working up the courage to do a contact delivery, getting giddy if he even gets to so much as say hi to him. To be able to make enough money to live on his own he's a streamer, but because he's too anxious to show off his own face he's rigged his own vtuber model (maybe something he calls EKU-80 or something) and uses a voice modulator.

Meanwhile between his actual job, Reigen works as a DoorDash driver for extra income and gets pretty tired of showing up at the same door every day just because all the other dashers already refused to deliver to him. In his free time he watches his favorite vtuber and forms a kinda unhealthy parasocial relationship with him, getting super embarrassed that he's actually fallen in love with a faceless voice just because he seems charming and awkward in a cute way.

One day Serizawa decides it'll be okay to show off his cat to his viewers as long as he's not in the picture. The next day Reigen is making his usual delivery and Serizawa's cat jumps down and rubs against his legs. Serizawa picks up the cat and immediately apologizes but Reigen recognizes the cat as belonging to his favorite Vtuber and starts making the connection. Serizawa immediately tries to deny it but Reigen is persistent.

Deciding he wants to prove it for certain, Reigen insists on taking him on a date to try and prove it. Serizawa is hesitant at first but ends up accidentally agreeing.

Over the course of a few dates Reigen learns to actually fall in love with the real deal and who he is as a person, deciding to try and help Serizawa become more social at his own pace and learn to find a balance between home and outside that works for him, still adamant on proving he is the Vtuber of his dreams. Meanwhile Serizawa is getting to go on dates with the man he spent so long feeling so close yet so far too and falling even harder. In the process also learning to gain confidence, talk to strangers, explore the community, and even make new friends (including some talked through jealousy from Reigen of course)

Over time they genuinely get together, and by the time Serizawa does tell Reigen he is the Vtuber he says he is, it doesn't matter as much to him anymore and he's just happy that he's with Serizawa and he trusts him enough to be completely honest with him. Serizawa even starts dabbling in face reveals and taking pictures of him and Reigen to post.

Idk, I just thought it'd be cute. It's probably overplayed though.

#serirei #mob psycho 100 #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #maybe I'll write it in the future. who knows #mp100 #reigen arataka #serizawa katsuya #mp100 reigen #mp100 serizawa

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pdpenpals · 1 year ago

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happy to have found your blog, love the concept!

could we maybe get a confession letter from pdh!travis? 👉👈

hi!! thank you so much, anon. hope you like the liberties i've taken with this request (you didn't specify what kind of confession it was going to be!! /silly), hehe. you'd wanna hear what this lil guy has to say, but he thinks it may be a little too much.

as expected, there’s another letter waiting for you at the usual spot. sure, it’s exciting, but you can’t help but wonder how fast it takes for your “secret admirer” (as your friends like to put it, even though you insist you're just friends) to send you a reply and leave it without you being able to catch a glimpse of him. maybe you should be scared instead. is it even possible to do that? who would have so much free time on their hands to go through the trouble of this anonymous (sorta) exchange? you two apparently.

the envelope as always is the plain white ones you can easily buy in bulk for cheap. there’s no seal, but you can easily tell it’s been shut tight by glue. you look around and find no one else within the vicinity, so you decide it should be fine to open it and start reading then and there. as usual, it's left unsigned.

My dearest cruel friend,

Re: your last letter, ouch. After how I’ve bared myself to you these past few weeks, that’s how you reply? As someone who’s been in Phoenix Drop longer than I have, I don’t think that’s very “bleeding heart” (I don't think that's the actual word they use but does anyone actually memorize the school's core values??) of you. Just kidding. Sorry.

I still wonder what life would be like if I never transferred to PD. So far acads and socializing have gotten better than expected but never easier. To be honest, what I have now isn’t exactly how I thought my high school experience here would be like. This year, I imagined going out with friends more, maybe even a nightly rendezvous with someone who’s caught my eye, but my words and I are falser than vows made in wine.

My bad, practice has been way too fun to not quote this year's play. Seriously though…

I say all that, yet here I am, spending more time at school than I should, sticking around for a while longer on campus, checking every other hour for your next letter. Before I knew it, I’d spent the majority of this semester getting to know you. Now I do, and I am sure that there’s no one else like you in this world. I guess you could say I’m absolutely smitten by you.

My friend says I should just go up to you and reveal myself already, and as much as I want to say I don’t think it’s the right time yet, or that I prefer the intimacy of being your faceless penpal (free to quarrel with you all I like in pen without being judged), I’m honestly very very afraid of what you’d think of me when we finally meet face to face. No matter how hard I try, I'll never be like said friend, forward and confident and cool.

It is as clear as day that my fate is sealed.

You’d hate to hear this, but I’ve been meaning to distract myself from our exchange by choosing to hang out more with other people, hence my slower replies. But hear me out when I say that there’ll be this little something about them that makes me think all about you, and then I’ll get upset since they will never be anything like you. So there’s no way for you to tell me that don’t think of you every day.

PS. You’ve probably figured out who I am by now, haven’t you?

#💌 — from the mailroom!#aphmau #aphblr #mystreet #mystreet x reader #phoenix drop high #phoenix drop high x reader #pdh x reader #mystreet travis #pdh travis #travis valkrum #travis x reader #travis valkrum x reader #i present thee laird anonymous with the bueno mano badge for being our first client /sillier

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pvppyapollo · 7 months ago

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PINNED!!

some general info about this blog :)

posted: nov.28.2024

last updated: april.15.2025

info below the break <3

hi! my name is apollo. you may also call me charli. i am a 22 year old (2002) bisexual trans man who is ambiam and happily taken.

if you want to support me financially i will redirect you to ways to support me via dms.

i am new-ish to NSFW tumblr but i have been on NSFW twitter for 4 years. i am a sub-leaning switch & vers.

i am NOT going to detransition. i may have content on here about detrans kink, but i will not be ACTUALLY detransitioning. i've been on T since may 2022, and i am currently on a waitlist for top surgery. i am very comfortable with my identity. i will step away from this blog occasionally for my mental health.

THIS BLOG IS ALL FANTASY. risk-aware consensual kink: RACK.

my partner does not have a NSFW tumblr but i am owned and claimed by him; we also have a dynamic with 2 other people. i am not looking to expand beyond them. i am looking for friends n others who enjoy the same kinks as i do.

i am faceless on all of my NSFW platforms. this is not something i am willing to compromise on ever <3 you would have to pay me a LOT for me to face reveal.

some rules:

if you are sending me nudes, i have a $2 fee per photo. $5 for ratings.

minimum $5 per nude from me. i will make a menu eventually? maybe?

nudes will never include my face! hard limit. would have to spend a pretty penny to see it.

i consent to anon asks of any kind (minus nudes), rape threats, and (legal) porn in my messages. nyou can also send asks for things you want my partner to do to me <3

i enjoy personal asks and i am pretty open. if something breaks a limit or im uncomfortable i won't respond (which is fine!)

my safeword is Snowflake or ❄️

my pronouns are he/him.

in kink you can refer to me however you want or whatever gets you off (within my limits)

DNI: minors or ageless accounts, ed/sh accounts, feederism, bathroom related kinks (scat, piss, diapers, etc.), raceplay accounts, zoophilia/b3astiality, intense gore (blood is fine to an extent), actual trasphobes, racists, sexists, etc. i also block based on vibes

kinks: cnc/free use/rap3 play, pet play, humiliation, praise, degradation, misgendering/detrans, sadomasochism, somno, intox, breeding, objectification, edging, overtsim, hypno, forcemasc/forcefem, omorashi (very situational though, into pissing myself but not drinking or being pissed on), denial, group sex, faux safeword, monsterfucking, corruption

conditional: fauxcest

limits/off-limits: scat, ageplay (can interact though), body humiliation/fat shaming, emetophilia, feeder content, gun play, sharing my real name OR my deadname, trying to dom me, anything that will compromise my health (including skipping my testosterone irl), gore or extreme amounts of blood

i will state again this blog is all fantasy/kink related. if something makes you uncomfortable, block the tags i use or block my account. muah<3

my tags: #apollo barks #charli barks

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nightlyrequiem · 10 months ago

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The Other Side of Paradise

11) Bye Bye Baby Blue

Cross posted from AO3

Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch.6, Ch.7, Ch.8, Ch.9, Ch.10, Ch.11

Bonus Epilogue

You try to make the best of your life working at a small bakery in a city with rising cartel violence. One slower day, a man starts harassing your coworker. Despite the obvious threat, you stand up to him anyway. Unbeknownst to you, Valeria just so happened to be there to witness it.

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Dual POV, Happy Ending, Plot with Porn, Graphic Violence, Inappropriate Use of a Knife, Masturbation, WLW

Valeria didn't come over the next night. Going off of previous behaviors you just assumed she went right back to ignoring you. You resentfully ignored her back. By not sending her any messages. That will show her. It wasn't until a few weeks had gone by when whispers of a certain individual began to be passed around mouth to mouth. El Sin Nombre was caught. El Sin Nombre is a woman. El Sin Nombre is Valeria. You felt ill the first time you heard it. That couldn't be true. You broke your no contact rule. Sending her texts and calling and all went unanswered. You obsessively scoured the internet and found many articles that confirmed your fears.

You weren't sure what to do with the information. You were hurt, angry, surprised. You almost shacked up with a drug baroness. She's done awful things. Awful maybe being an understatement. You search and search for more details, but each article is just parroting the last; telling you what you already know. 'Valeria Garza, thirty-eight-year-old ex-special forces member arrested for drug trafficking.' Among other things like her leading the cartel and her suspected involvement in a recent Chicago terrorist attack.

Even after months pass, giving the news time to be digested and eventually forgotten, no one seems to. Valeria is all everyone seems to be talking about. It makes sense, you suppose. The big faceless, nameless entity that had been terrorizing Las Almas was finally revealed. You wish they'd stop talking about it. It only keeps the wound from healing. She was kind to you. She was interested. What does that say about your character? She might not have even meant any of it, and that thought makes you feel worse. You go through the days on autopilot. She gave you a taste for companionship and then ripped it away from you. You feel lonelier than ever.

On the bright side, while you're walking home you don't see any bodies. Or armed men. The atmosphere is stagnant instead of humming with never-ending anxiety. Which is why you startle at the sight of two men standing by the stairs to your apartment, one is bald and the other has a beard. They have a certain look about them. One that raises the fine hairs on the back of your neck. You continue to approach even though your gut tells you not to. That feeling only doubles when they turn and stare at you. You grab the metal railing and start ascending. Pretending you aren't frightened by them.

One of them says your name. You pause and contemplate rushing the last few steps into the perceived safety of your home. They could very easily break down the door though and that might just serve to piss them off. You turn slowly and look down at them.

"... Yeah?" You reply quietly. Sensitive to any change in expression or body language.

"She wants to see you." You don't need to ask who. "She sent us to retrieve you." Retrieve you. Like you're one of the drug parcels she used to smuggle.

"She's in prison though." You say unsurely. She's supposed to be in prison. She didn't break out, did she? If she did, you're positive it would've been all over the news.

"She's allowed visitors." He replies roughly. The one beside him just stares. You want to blow on his eyes to make him blink.

Who in their right mind is allowing her visitors? That seems incredibly irresponsible.

"No." You say firmly. You expect them to put up a fight. To force you. Instead, they just turn and leave. Walking off behind the building. You watch them nervously before scurrying inside and shutting the door behind you. Part of you feels pleased that she's making an effort to contact you, and the other part is disgusted by it. She's a horrible human being and you shouldn't want anything to do with her but the moments you shared continue to haunt your thoughts.

The men are back next week. You're a little less frightened since they didn't do anything last time, but you aren't any less wary. As you approach, the bald one reaches into his pocket and you almost keel over and die from heart failure. Instead of pulling out a knife or glock he pulls out an envelope and extends a burly arm. You shakily take it, still recovering from the momentary fright. They leave without another word. You go inside and sit down against the door. Holding the clean white paper in your hands. You tear it open and pull out the letter inside.

I regret you had to find out this way. I know you're feeling afraid and betrayed but know that regardless of how I earned my money or conducted business that I care about you. I don't want what came out into the light to affect your image of me. The news rarely gets the facts right. You'd understand if you got to hear my side of the story. I urge you to come and visit me so we can talk things out like adults. I miss you.

It's short and unsigned but it doesn't need a signature. You feel a flash of anger. How dare she claim to know what you feel? She didn't even apologize. You don't have any interest in hearing her out.

The letter feels condescending. She's severely downplaying the situation. She doesn't seem to grasp the ramifications of being caught for being a fucking drug lord. The biggest in the country. You doubt any amount of talking will fix anything and even if it could, she is defiantly never seeing the light of day ever again. If capital punishment were legal, she'd be sitting in the chair by now. You throw the letter in the junk drawer to be forgotten about. Except you don't forget about it. You think about it while trying to sleep and you think about it while washing dishes at work. Her reaching out makes your heartbeat the wrong way. You ignore it with a healthy dose of shame. You will not throw out your morals for her.

The men come back the next day with the same instructions to visit Valeria. You feel that wicked pull of temptation but deny them yet again. And yet again they leave without protest. A few days after that there's another letter slid under your door.

You're upset. I get that, but don't ignore me. You've had enough time to cool down from the shocking news. Being petty doesn't suit you. I can explain if you come see me. I don't appreciate being ignored. I'm being very patient with you, I could easily make you come but I respect you enough not to do that.

This one is shorter and has vaguely threatening undertones. Maybe you should go. Just for your own safety. Your pride wins over though. You will not be threatened or coerced into anything. If she really respected you, she'd leave you alone. Besides, if she's already threatening you by the second letter then she's not being very patient.

You can only imagine what people would think about you just casually visiting her. Weeks after her capture you were paranoid that people had seen the two of you together and would assume the worst. You stash the letter in the junk drawer with the other one. It's the last one you see. You don't even see the men again either. Perhaps she got the hint. You have troubles sleeping for a while. Paranoid that they're going to break into your home and murder you. Time flies by and your apartment remains unbroken into, and you slowly lose that fear.

It really didn't take a lot for her to lose interest. No letters, no men. it's for the best but that doesn't stop you from being hurt. Weeks pass by uninterrupted. She's gone for good. behind bars. You are safe. Everyone is safe. But you aren't happy. She got what she deserved so why do you feel so miserable? You get home from another late shift. Dumping the basket of treats on the kitchen counter. You rarely bother with turning the lights on. Why would you when you know the lay out? Maybe you should have. Maybe you could've avoided being tackled to the ground.

You're winded as a heavy body sits itself down on you. Your fears were right. The men came back to kill you. You open your mouth to scream but the person swiftly clamps a hand down on your mouth. They say your name and it takes you a few seconds to recognize Valeria's voice.

"I'm going to remove my hand, and you aren't going to scream." She whispers coldly. Something sharp and cold presses against the vulnerable skin of your throat. You nod your head shakily and Valeria slowly removes her hand. Your mind races with questions.

"Did you break out?" You ask shakily.

"That's a really idiotic question." She snaps.

She keeps herself pressed against you. She's warm and very solid. Months ago, this is what you wanted, and even now much to your own dismay you aren't completely against it.

"Valeria-"

"You didn't reply to either of my letters." She says sharply. Cutting you off. "You didn't visit me once." She sounds furious and the knife presses against your jugular. "You could've come. Could've heard me out. At the very least you could've come just to get mad at me."

"I am mad at you." You reply shakily. Your voice isn't as strong as you want it to be. She roughly shoves your face into the floor. The carpet rubs against your cheek uncomfortably. It turns out that wasn't the correct thing to say to her.

You can feel how angry she is by the stiffness of her body. Like all her rage is contained in her toned limbs and she has to make an effort to keep it in.

"I should slit your throat for humiliating me like that." She speaks. Her voice dangerously quiet. You feel a sickening flash of fear as her knife moves along the collum of your throat. She traces it up around to the back of your neck. "I put time and effort into you," Valeria continues. Tapping the point of the blade against your skin. You wince when she adds pressure. "and you can't even do me the favor of visiting me." She moves the knife away from you. You hear her plant her hand down beside your head as she shifts her weight down your back. She leans down and rests her head on the back of your neck. Her warm breath hitting it in small puffs.

Her other wraps around your shoulder. Her thumb moving back and forth. This position isn't very comfortable. Even with the carpet the ground is hard against your chest and the added hundred-thirty or so pounds on your back is making it a little difficult to breathe properly. You're scared and confused. Holding a knife up to your throat then cuddling up to you is sending a few mixed signals.

"I opened up to you, you said you wouldn't leave." Valeria murmurs.

"You lied to me." You reply. "You didn't tell me you were a... you're a narco."

"I never lied." She says. Sounding annoyed. "I told you I was a distributor." You twist your head to look at her even though it's too dark to see anything more than a vague outline.

"You said you distributed pharmaceuticals!" You flinch when she swats the back of your head.

"What do you think drugs are?" She snaps. "I never said I distributed legal pharmaceuticals."

Valeria sits back up and you can feel her gaze warming the back of your head. You can picture those cold brown eyes narrowing at you.

"Why are you here?" You ask. If she's going to just kill you, she should get it over with.

"Because you wronged me." She replies gravely, voice still as smooth as honey. The hand on your shoulder slinks down to your shoulder blades. "And I missed you." Something stirs within you at her words, and you tell yourself it's fear. "No matter what a person does, if you're in a relationship with them you don't ignore them. Do you have any idea how much it hurts to be ignored?" No, you have absolutely no clue what that feels like at all.

"We aren't in a relationship." You say, confused. You'd been seeing each other but she hasn't asked you to be her girlfriend. Nothing was ever made official.

She scoffs and you flinch. Expecting another hit to the back of the head. She doesn't hit you, but by the tone of her voice it sounds like she really wants to.

"You were my woman the day I became interested in you." She says coldly. Her weight is suddenly gone from your back. You don't have much time to appreciate the lifted weight before she's roughly turning you over onto your back and sitting right back down on your thighs. Her fingers grasp the hem of your shirt and begin lifting it. You panic and grab onto her forearms.

"What are you doing?" You don't understand what's going on. You thought she was pissed at you. You thought she was going to kill you.

She grabs your arms and yanks them away before returning back to your shirt.

"You need convincing." She coos. Her warm voice contrasting against her behavior.

"Of what?" You ask. Bewildered and a little nervous.

"Of me." Valeria pulls your shirt up. You only make a small effort to keep it on your body but ultimately let her pull it over your head. She can't see you, but you feel exposed nonetheless.

"Get off." You say. Trying to sound firm.

"I will." She replies. "Only after you, though." She slides off of you and you feel the knife press against your hips. She pierces through the fabric of your pants. The sound of them ripping startles you and you try to kick at her.

She grabs your knee and forces your leg down.

"Quit that." She snaps. She rips through the seams and repeats the process on the other leg. You don't move again and pretend it's because you don't want to be accidently cut. She drags your pants away from your body, leaving you in just a bra and panties. You don't want this, it's immoral to sleep with someone like her. She lightly drags the blade along your side. She suddenly drags it underneath the strap of your bra and soon that is also torn from your body.

"That was expensive!" You say. Because that is certainly your biggest issue at the moment.

"I'll buy you a new one." She growls before capturing your lips in a heated kiss. A hand comes up and grabs your breast. The wetness between your legs becomes too prominent to ignore. This is wrong. She's an awful, evil person. An awful, evil person that threatened you at knifepoint. You willingly spread your legs for her anyway. Willingly open your mouth to join your tongue with hers.

Her hand slowly slides down your body to grasp the side of your panties. She gives no thoughts to just ripping them off of you. Valeria seems to hate leaving your clothes intact. The air hits your wet core and causes you to shiver. Something hard and noticeably not made of flesh slides through your folds, spreading your slick and making you gasp. Valeria kisses along your jaw while the tip of the knife's handle presses against your clit, and you arch your back at the contact.

"Couples fight." Valeria mumbles into your skin. "We're no different, I know you still want me."

"No." You try to protest. It's a losing battle. You know this isn't even just a physical reaction. She chuckles and the sound doesn't help. You clench around nothing as she brings the knife handle up to your face, allowing you to smell the evidence.

"What's this then?" She asks. Sucking a mark into your neck.

You don't reply. Shame and embarrassment wash over you. This shouldn't be turning you on, but you want her to return her hand back to between your thighs. She knows exactly what you want. She presses the handle against your cunt once more. Slowly easing it inside.

'You aren't done with me." She whispers. Slowly pumping it in and out of you. "I won't let you be." She sheathes the handle inside of you. The smooth titanium caressing your inner walls. "Besides, do you think you'll be able to look anyone else in the eye after being fucked on my knife?" She noses your cheek.

The wet sounds emitted from the questionable activities down south embarrass you.

"Good girl." Valeria says quietly. Her own breathing has gotten heavier. It seems all your little noises aren't leaving her as unaffected as you thought. The handle repeatedly hits that certain spot deep within you. The pressure is bruising, and your mouth is agape with pleasure. With a strangled whine your cunt flutters. Trying to pull the handle of the knife as deep in you as possible.

She thrusts it in you, making your orgasm last as long as possible. You begin to twitch and writhe once the sensation starts to be overwhelming. She gifts you some relief by removing it, and you feel some slick leak out with it, and you have the passing thought of needing to shampoo your carpet after this. She drops the knife somewhere and moves away from you. She shuffles around and the sound of a zipper being undone reaches your ears. She crawls on top of you and grabs your leg, holding it up to slot herself against you. Her wetness meets with yours and you feel the slight pulsing from her clit. Evidence of her own eagerness.

"You don't understand how hurt I was when you ignored me," she says. Grinding against you. "how angry I got." She presses your leg down and speeds up. You struggle to keep up with the conversation. The feel of her clit and puffy folds moving against yours is the only thing you can think about.

Her breathing is labored, and you can she makes no effort to contain her loud, breathy moans.

'I considered having my men kill you." Valeria pants. "I could always find-find someone else." She moans. One of her hands once again finds your breast and she gives it a light squeeze. "But, against my better judgement, I've grown attached to you."

"I don't know if I believe that." You manage to say. So pussydrunk that it's hard to rub two braincells together in order to form a coherent thought. You can feel your combined wetness dribbling down between your cheeks. You will definitely need to clean the carpet.

"You don't know if you believe that." She growls. "I should've fucked you harder with the knife." She relentlessly grinds herself against you. Your lower lips meeting in a kiss.

"You weren't h-honest about who you were." You argue. She gives your tit a harsh squeeze and you hiss in pain.

"I told you I never lied." She snaps.

"half-truths and omission count as lying!" You groan. Shuddering with pleasure.

Your stomach tightens as you draw closer to another orgasm.

"I can't go around telling everyone what I do for a living." She grunts. Her rhythm becomes sloppy as she begins to chase her own climax. "You know now though, so we have no issues." Your resolve snaps as you come. Your legs tremble as you lean your head back, a drawn-out moan escaping your parted lips. Valeria follows soon after. Her movements faltering until she goes still against you. Release rushing out of her and mixing with yours. She collapses on top of you, breathing heavily as her breasts press against you.

Valeria buries her face into your neck. Her dark hair tickling your chin. Now that the pleasure is wearing off, you're beginning to feel a burning sensation on your back. Perhaps sex on the carpet wasn't the best idea.

"We do still have problems." You whisper. Tired and in need of a shower now. Valeria just grunts in reply. "Not only do you lead a cartel, but you're wanted." It dawns on you just how serious this situation is. She's unstable. You could get into a fight with her and end up dead. Not only that, but you could get in trouble with the police. Possibly the government.

She gently caresses your shoulder.

"There are so many strings I can pull to stay free and leading the cartel is irreverent." Valeria mutters. "You won't be involved."

"Sure but-"

"I already told you I'm not letting you go." She says sharply. "Don't you want to be loved?" You pause. Of course you do. But is she the correct person to give you that love? "I know I 'lied' to you, but it was only to keep you and me safe."

"How was it for my safety?" You frown. Valeria huffs.

"I didn't want you to panic and do something that could lead to your... injury." Injury from what, you want to ask. You don't though. Despite your better judgement and fears, you want to her with her.

Valeria rises off of you and you miss her warmth. She grabs your arm and pulls you up with her.

"Where's your bedroom?" She asks. You lead her to it, guiding her through the short, dark hallway. You push open the door and bring her to your bed. You lie down and she joins you. Pressing close to your back and draping an arm over your waist. Your eyes flutter shut, and you give in to sleep.

#cod mw2 #valeria garza x reader #valeria garza

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