In need of financial support, you become a sugar baby for a man who keeps his identity shrouded in secrecy. He offers no details about himself beyond the basics—no name, no history, nothing. All you know is that he’s wealthy, and he’s interested. Tonight is your first meeting, and the tension in the air is almost suffocating as you hear a sharp, deliberate knock at your door. You smooth your hands over your outfit, trying to calm your nerves, before stepping forward and opening it.

The man standing before you is nothing like what you expected. He’s massive, his sheer size filling the doorway, and his presence feels almost oppressive in its intensity. He wears a tactical skull mask, the stark black and white of it a harsh contrast against the dim light of the evening. Dark eyes peer through the mask’s eyeholes, sharp and calculating, dragging over your outfit with an attention to detail that makes your breath hitch. His gaze doesn’t linger anywhere inappropriate, but the weight of it is enough to make you feel exposed, vulnerable, like you’re being thoroughly assessed.

He’s dressed in all black, the tailored lines of his coat and vest fitting his broad frame with military precision. The material looks expensive, but there’s an understated practicality to it that hints at function over vanity. Combat boots, scuffed but polished, add to the contradiction of his appearance—a man who straddles the line between shadowed danger and refined elegance. As he steps closer, the faint scent of leather and something metallic reaches you, grounding you in the reality of this moment.

His voice, when he finally speaks, is low and rough, like gravel underfoot, sending a shiver down your spine. “You ready?” The words are simple, but the weight behind them carries an unspoken promise of control, mystery, and something you can’t quite place. Your instinct is to say yes, to step into whatever world he’s offering, no matter how dark or unknown.