౨ৎ nona ౨ৎ

after he walked you home, earning himself a kiss on the cheek (it was his jaw actually, you couldn't reach any higher), he had to regain his composure. the unfamiliar feeling of general arousal made his skin itch, the wings fluttering in his stomach felt invasive. he wasn't used to this. his fragile, cracking walls begged for support, but he restrained the isolating thoughts. slowly, he accepted his mood and headed home. just as he was about to unwind on the couch, his phone buzzed. the sound froze him in place for a second.

you: tonight was amazing! would love to see you again

he bit his lip in thought as he stared at the screen.

simon: Ok.

you: ... ok?

his eyebrows furrowed, trying to decipher your message. were you not satisfied with his answer?

simon: Me too.

that'll save it. surely.

the clock kept ticking. and his phone remained silent. checking it every few minutes, he grew restless, unable to concentrate on the tv. your perfume lingered in his nose; your beautiful face popped up everytime he closed his eyes.

you: same time tomorrow?

you: dinner's on me this time

simon: Absolutely not.

he shook his head with a smile on his face, catching a glimpse of the tv. as if expecting you to read his thoughts, he didn't bother to elaborate on that message. instead, he locked his phone and leaned back all satisfied, as he resumed pretending to watch the game while thinking about you.

you: oh?

you: i thought it was going well

that last message was your final straw. you understood he was old at heart, so overlooking the desert that were your DMs should've been easy. he was different in real life. quiet, sure, but warmth seeped from his eyes everytime he looked at you. he listened to everything you had to say, and actually remembered. even the smallest details you mentioned while nervously rambling. but Absolutely not? it felt like a splash of icy water in your face.

just as you were typing up your farewell text, all bitter, your screen turned dark. his name shined brightly in the middle as your phone vibrated.

you picked up.

"dinner. I meant- dinner," he said hurriedly. "um, paying for dinner, that is. yer not paying."

the tension in your stomach released, a relieved chuckle escaping your lips.

"tomorrow works for me." he added. "if I haven't fucked it up already."

"you haven't." with your bitter mood all gone, you offered him reassurance. "but please elaborate on your messages. it's hard to tell what you're thinking when you're sitting next to me, let alone over the phone."

he let out an amused breath. "I'll try, dove."

------

and try he did.

but the improvement was slow. though, what he lacked in his texting skills, he made up for tenfold whenever he was with you. making you feel like the reason for his existence. over time, you learned to imagine the loving look he gave his screen as he conjured up a string of dry words to send you.

you: where are you?

simon: On the motorway.

simon: Car crash.

your heart dropped. panicked, you ditched your shopping cart in the aisle and ran to your car, frantically searching for your keys. just before you dialed his number to ask for his exact location, your phone buzzed again.

a picture of an unfamiliar car flipped over on the road.

"need ya close," he whispered against the crown of your ear. he placed a small kiss behind your ear, lips trailing down to your shoulder.

he left out a soft sigh and nuzzled into your neck. his thumb caressed your tummy softly, while he pressed more kisses on your skin. he wrapped his leg over your hips and pulled you even closer, almost trying to meld you into him.

you felt his muscles relax as he found comfort in you. it didn't take long for his breathing to start slowing down, as he fell asleep against your shoulder.

He can’t even imagine how he got lucky enough to find you, if he has to be honest. It was a night like any other, and all he’d wanted was to get off. He isn’t sure whether he’d navigated to this site himself in a lust-fueled haze or if he’d clicked an ad from some other video site, but when his screen loaded, he had audibly gasped. That, he remembers clearly. In his half-assed teenage exploration of online porn, he’d found the most basic videos from the most basic sources. He’d never felt the need to look further as he’d grown older, satisfied with his old reliable materials. He’d never encountered anything like this. He’d never even dreamt of it.

Girls beckoned at him from every corner of his screen, clad in latex, lace, and nothing but thin air. If he hovered over the various icons, he got a brief preview of what was currently happening on the livestream in question. One girl made a grand show of deepthroating a realistic silicone cock. Another girl held a vibrator against her clit, and a counter at the bottom of the screen indicated how many times she’d cum. Yet another girl rubbed her feet down the length of a strand of anal beads. It was a smorgasbord of everything he could imagine—and even things he couldn’t—a little something available for everybody. He didn’t know how many he scrolled past until he found you.

He wasn’t sure if you were using your real name, but it was nothing like the usernames he’d seen so far. While the other streams had hundreds of viewers, you boasted a comparatively meager 30 or so. Wearing a sheer babydoll top and matching panties, you looked shy as you adjusted your camera, and you curled in on yourself like you were almost embarrassed to be exposed. 

He clicked on you, driven by sheer curiosity. If you were so shy, what were you doing on a site like this? Surely you had something to offer…

The rest was history.

If anyone were to ask him how much money he’d sent you over the course of his 4 month viewership, he’d probably die from embarrassment. Between in-stream donations and gifts like toys, costumes, and random wishlist items of yours, the total amount he’d spent on you had to rival his last rent payment. As much as he hates to admit it, spending money on you was almost an equal priority, now.

Kei felt proud of you, in an odd way. The very first stream he had watched all those months ago was full of little errors. You had stuttered and stammered, it seemed like you had a really hard time getting yourself to finish, and you accidentally ended the stream while you were still saying goodbye. He felt a little bad for you. It seemed like you were still really fumbling around, trying to find your footing in this salacious new world. One more show, he’d said to himself, just to see if they improve. It was a remarkably lame excuse, but it was good enough to make him feel he had a decent reason for signing back on to the cam site a week later. 

And fuck, had you changed. He still wonders from time to time what drew this out of you. You carried yourself with a new confidence, one that told your viewers that you now knew you were sexy. You no longer stammered, meeting each sleazy comment with a smooth, easy flirtation. And to top it all off, Kei doesn’t think you’ve ever been more sensitive than you were that second night. You keened at every little touch to your cunt, and your high came so smoothly that he would’ve believed you’d faked it if he couldn’t see your clit twitching with each wave of sweet pleasure. You’d blown a kiss to the camera, and the blond was officially hooked, clicking the subscribe button and shutting his laptop so he could jerk off to the memory of your show without the glow of his laptop screen to ruin his concentration.

Ever since then, his Thursday nights were all yours. 

The countdown screen fades, and Kei once again finds shame slithering hotly down his spine as he snaps back into reality and your smiling face comes into view. His heart jumps—you’re wearing a baby pink set he bought off of your wishlist last week. It’s a lacy bra with a cute bow in the center, paired with a mesh thong. He nearly salivates at the sight of your pubic hair through the pretty panties. Usually, you keep it trimmed shorter, but Kei is embarrassed to admit he’s familiar enough with your maintenance routine by now that he can tell you’re a teeny bit overdue for a cut. No matter—he likes looking at you either way, and the bra pushes your tits up just enough to draw a little extra attention. All in all, you look delicious. Sure, this particular set had been a little expensive, but Kei thinks the way it looks on you was well worth dodging dinner with his team last week. He wishes you knew it was from him, that he buys most of the things you put on your wishlist. He wonders, briefly, if it would ever get him any special treatment on your streams. Maybe you’d take his requests…

“Hi, guys! I’ve been so excited to see you this week,” your voice is bubbly and sweet as usual, bringing him out of his thoughts and back to focusing on your smiling face.

You shift towards the camera, not-so-subtly pressing your tits together as you lean forward like you’re having a casual conversation with a friend.

“How have you guys been? What’ve you been up to?”

The comments roll in, and Kei watches your eyes flit across the screen as you read each one. A sexy pout tugs at your bottom lip as you reply to one viewer.

“Oh, I’m sorry work has been rough. I’m glad you made it on tonight—hopefully I can help you relax.”

You finish with a playful wink, returning to reading the comments. 

Kei’s fingers hover over the keyboard. He’s commented before, but he tries to do it sparingly. It feels less pathetic if he pretends he’s a half-hearted viewer. But this time…he can’t explain it, but he feels like you really care. Like you really want to know. Maybe, just this once….

He types out the comment and hits send before he can think about it a third time: “I’ve just been looking forward to seeing your pretty face.”

You’ve grown in popularity since he started watching you, your 20 person average audience now having spiked to about 250 for each stream. He doesn’t really expect you to see his comments on the rare occasions that he does cave in and leave them, and it doesn’t phase him when you don’t reply. 

But this time, a (completely adorable, fuck him) blush paints your face as you smile. 

“Aw, you think I’ve got a pretty face? How sweet! I’ll try to show it off tonight for you. And it shouldn’t be too hard…”

You reach behind yourself, smoothly ending your segment of answering comments and segueing into the show while Kei’s heart races. He doesn’t have time to process that you called him sweet before you’re pulling out a thick, pink glass dildo. You smile eagerly as you show it off to the camera.

“I got a gift from one of you the other day! This is the thickest toy I’ve ever had, so ‘m gonna try and break it in for you guys tonight. Does that sound good?”

You scan the comments again briefly, but it’s obvious that you aren’t really looking for approval. Who in their right mind would reject the opportunity to watch you stretch yourself open on something like that? Kei can feel himself hardening in his sweats at just the thought. 

You shift on your bed, turning to show off your pink mesh covered ass with a playful wiggle. 

“Should I try it from behind, or give you guys a full frontal view?” 

You teasingly peek over your shoulder to read the comments, and Kei is scrambling over his keyboard to beg for a full frontal view, almost knocking over the metal water bottle he has sitting nearby. As much as he’d like to see your asshole while you stretch yourself open on the girthy toy, he thinks he’ll die if he can’t see your face for more than a split second. He tacks on a $5 donation to ensure that his comment makes it to the top of the influx, gnawing on his bottom lip as he waits anxiously for your verdict. 

You raise your eyebrows playfully. 

“Ooh, somebody really wants that full frontal. Okay, okay. This one’s just for you…Moonshine27. That’s a cute username.”

You giggle like you’re teasing a friend, and Kei has to really focus to avoid cumming in his pants. 

You roll over to your original position on your back, spreading your legs in front of your laptop as you take the toy in your hand once again. It’s cute—you pose a bit for the camera, arching your chest into the air as you scoot a little closer to your viewers. You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, and Kei can practically hear all of the screenshots people must be taking before you shift again. Soft doe-eyes flicker to the bottom of the screen, and you crinkle your nose. 

“I’ve already told you guys, no feet on stream unless somebody pays $100 for them. If you really want them….”

You trail off, already positioning the tip of the dildo over your still-clothed cunt as the comments continue to roll in. You idly slide the toy up and down, up and down, the motion bordering on hypnotic for Kei. Your chat is lively. Two viewers go back and forth about whether $100 is worth it, who should pay it if they think it’s a fair price, and whether either of them is a real fan if they refuse to pay. 

You pout at them. 

“Hey, play nice. I think I’m lowballing you guys for $100. My feet are worth way more.”

Kei wants to fucking hurl. He doesn’t give a shit about your feet or how much money you’re asking for to show them, and he resents that they're getting in the way of the best orgasm he has all week long. He wants to see your face, and watch your expression twist with every wonderful inch of the toy your gummy cunt manages to suck in. 

He’s achingly hard now as he watches you tease yourself through your panties, your cheeks already flushed and the fabric already damp enough to stick to your puffy lips. It’s obvious that you’re ready, you want it, and he can’t take the waiting anymore. He types out another comment, sheer lust overpowering his usual self-imposed “low interaction” rule. 

“Either pay up or shut up and let them get to the show already.”

He watches your eyes flit around the screen. A soft giggle falls past your lips, and you toss your hair over your shoulder as you playfully scold him. 

“You play nice, too, Moonshine. But you’ve got a point. The price is non-negotiable. Why spend time focusing on that when I’mwaiting for your attention?”

A slew of apologies floods the chat, and you shake your head with that same gentle smile you seem to permanently keep. And though your voice is level, Kei can’t pull his eyes from where the crotch of your panties dampens against the glass toy. 

“Alright, alright, everyone settle down. I didn’t have time to prep myself before, so we’ve gotta do it together…”

You trail off as you reach behind yourself with one hand to unclasp your bra, tossing it away from you without any care. The donations begin pouring in as your tits bounce into view, the comments quickly shifting focus. You playfully press them together, never stopping your slow strokes over your cunt. Your eyes stay glued to the screen as you stick your tongue out, managing to just barely lick the curve of one breast. Kei feels his dick twitch at the sight of your own spit glistening on your skin as you use one hand to pinch and pull at your nipples. 

“Okay, let’s put this aside for now…”

You set the toy by your hip, replacing it with slow fingers rubbing over your clit. You sigh softly and tug at one of your nipples before you speak again. 

“What d’you think? Should I start slow, or jump right into it?” 

Again, a flood of comments and donations. Your eyebrows shoot right up when a $20 donation springs to the top of the influx with a comment attached: “Get it done hot and fast.”

Kei doesn’t know if he’s imagining it, but you seem disappointed with the answer for a flash of a second. The miffed expression disappears as quickly as it came, though, and you grin and wink. 

“Okay,” you reply, voice still breathy and needy, "hot and fast, it is."

He wonders how much of the sound stems from how you really feel, if you’re genuinely worked up and horny when you sign on, or if this is the equivalent of him clocking in for a long day of tours at the museum with an artificial grin stretched across his face for the millions of repetitive questions he hears. 

You stick out your tongue, slowly swiping two fingers over the wet muscle. Drool drips from your bottom lip as you close your mouth to suck on the digits before you reach down to press two fingers into yourself, your hand moving beneath the thin fabric of your panties. He can hear the chorus of chimes indicating a slew of donations, and another $20 message comes to the top: “Take them off!”

You giggle, tilting your head at the camera and pressing your cheek against your shoulder flirtatiously.

“What, did you want these off? I thought you guys were more worried about seeing my feet…”

The chat floods with protests, and the two viewers that held the earlier debate apologize as they beg to see your bare pussy. You give a soft sigh, pulling your fingers from your cunt and raising them up to the camera with a smile. You show off the sticky webbing between your fingers, and Kei reaches down to palm himself over his sweats. He doesn’t want to touch—not yet. Not until he can move his hand in sync with the shiny glass toy you have resting by your hip. 

You giggle salaciously as you wiggle out of your panties and dangle them in front of the camera.

“I’ll auction these off on my storefront after the show.”

You flick the fabric over your shoulder before you slip your fingers back inside, tossing your head back in a moan as you arch your back. It’s a performance more than anything, and Kei knows it. Still, that doesn’t stop it from being incredibly sexy. He barely even blinks as he watches you, your tits heaving with every breath you take. You have his full attention when you add another finger, spreading your digits to stretch yourself out for your audience. The donation sound can’t even finish playing before it begins again, everyone racing to send you money and plead for you to continue.

A little twinkling sound effect plays, and you level your head to look at the screen, your fingers never ceasing their movement. You gasp.

“Woah,” you breathe, “$100? Thank you, uh….Oni-girthy?”

You make a little face. This time, Kei can’t miss it. “Oni-girthy” has requested that you “get the fuck on with it, already.”

Foreplay is hot. Don’t these idiots get that? They can see every second as your cunt opens up to let you press your fingers in deeper. Your pussy gets wetter and wetter, and your clit swells up and twitches to plead for attention. What was the big rush to be finished with such a breathtaking show?  

Maybe, he thinks bitterly, these assholes have never actually touched a girl, so they don’t know what it takes to get one ready for a good fuck. Kei can’t help but feel irritated, knowing that his own satisfaction is in the hands of these idiots.

But still, you adhere to the request, pulling your fingers up to your mouth and showing off how you lick them clean before you take the toy into your hand. He can tell that you’re a bit annoyed by the request, because you don’t even make a flirtatious little comment before you slather the bulbous head of the toy in lube and begin to press it into your cunt. You bite your lip hard enough to drain the color from your skin, your brows crinkling in response to the brutal stretch.

“Oh, shit,” you sigh, your eyes fixed to watch yourself on your screen.

Kei feels hot. His skin burns all over as he drizzles lube over the palm of his hand, taking hold of his length. He doesn’t dare jerk himself off, yet—you haven’t gotten past the tip, and there’s no joy in moving any faster than you do. 

Your expression is a mix of pleasure and obvious discomfort, and Kei feels a bit bad. Are you rushing like this because of the nagging donations, or are you just annoyed and ready to get it over with, now? He’ll hand it to you; he can’t tell for sure, so you’re putting on a great front as you take the toy deeper.

It’s a slow push, your chest heaving with the effort of taking the brutal stretch of the new toy. Kei eagerly eyes the way your cunt works to suck it in, the sticky cream of your arousal glistening around the edges. He sees your mouth move, but no sound comes out. For a moment, he thinks you’re simply breathless from the sensation.

And then the screen goes white. Error 404.

He shouts, jerking upright. Unconcerned with the lube and precum covering his fingers, he swipes his mouse up to the web address to hit the refresh button again and again. 

Error 404. Error 404. Error 404. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck! You’d just gotten to the good part! You hadn’t even been able to make yourself cum first, thanks to those assholes hurrying you along. He sighs, letting his head hang in disappointment. 

“Shit,” he mutters, lazily wiping his hand on his sweats and tugging them back up around his waist. 

He gasps suddenly. You have a blog, and you use it to sell underwear, socks, and anything else people request—and pay for. Did you say something there?

He’s past being embarrassed as he types in the URL that he has memorized, gnawing on his bottom lip in anticipation as he waits for it to load. The pink screen loads…and there’s a post from two minutes ago. Yes!

“Hey guys, sorry for the sudden ending :( the site crashed. Hopefully it’ll be back up soon. If it’s back up by tomorrow, I’ll do a show then to make up for tonight getting cut off. I <3 you! xoxo.”

Kei runs through his schedule. What is he doing tomorrow? He has practice in the evening, but would he make it home by 10:30? Maybe if he skips the shower at the gym and decides to just handle it at home…

Yeah…he can make that work. Definitely.

He sighs, letting his head hang back. Even if things work out for tomorrow, tonight is ruined. His mood is dead, your show is over, and he can’t even go back on your page and watch some of the short teaser clips you’ve uploaded to draw people to your shows. He rights himself, begrudgingly opening the assignment he’d neglected in favor of watching you.

If he can’t get off, he might as well get an A.

Last week, Kei was definitely shit out of luck. Today, he thinks he may be God’s absolute favorite.

Not only had your show been cut short last Thursday, but the cam site was still down on Friday, so you couldn’t do the make-up show you’d hoped for, either. It was fine, though—practice had gone late that evening, so he would’ve missed it anyway. Thatwould have sent him over the edge. 

To add extra insult to injury, the cam site was still down when he looked on Wednesday morning. He’d been checking your blog obsessively, hoping to send you something new from your wishlist or even glimpse just a photo of you. You hadn’t posted much this week (or asked for anything new), but you did post that morning to say that while the site was back up, you still didn’t have creator’s access, and there wouldn’t be a show tonight. 

In truth, Kei had been immensely disappointed. He was in a foul mood all morning, and found himself feeling irritated with even the sweet old lady who worked in the front office at the museum when she greeted him kindly. He’d rolled his eyes to himself, caught the nasty reaction before she could see, and immediately sent himself on a wordless mission for penance. Once he’d purchased her a tea from the cafe nearby as an apology for a crime she was none the wiser he’d committed, he’d sat down in the break room and held a silent intervention with himself.

Yes, you were beautiful, and he enjoyed watching your show. But at the end of the day, you were a camgirl. He’d never know you, touch you, or speak directly to you. This level of attachment was unreasonable, and he needed to get it under control. He needed to go out, touch some grass…touch a woman. A real, living, breathing woman, who existed beyond the confines of his computer screen.

Ironically, this had led him to redownloading the godforsaken dating apps Tadashi had convinced him to sign up for during a drunken night out, encouraging his blond friend to “put himself out there,” or what ever the fuck. 

Kei had updated his profile, adding a few new photos and a clip of one of his more recent good plays. Girls were pretty into athletes, right? Was that a thing? He’d gone to sleep not thinking much of it, but definitely looking forward to breaking free from his little addiction to you. 

He scrolls through a couple profiles during his lunch break on Thursday, sending likes and little comments. One woman likes a show he’d seen before, so he sends her a message about that. Another dyes her hair frequently—he asks which color had been her favorite before swiping along to the next profile.

And that’s when he sees your face.

He blinks dumbly at the screen, unsure if he’s hallucinating. Is he so desperate to see you that he’s imagining you in this new distraction? He dismisses the app entirely and reopens it.

Still, you smile back at him when it loads again. 

He looks over his shoulder, as if someone watching him may know that this is the cam girl he’s obsessed with—as if someone may know that he’s obsessed with a cam girl in the first place. Then, he hunches over his phone, trying to rein in his beating heart as he shields what he’s sure is an utterly shocked expression from his coworkers. 

He reads through your profile slowly, like it’s a sacred text. Is that your name? It suits you. Beneath the cover photo, there’s a cute selfie of you in a Pokémon t-shirt, big glasses taking up half your face and your hair tied back away from your face. Star shaped pimple patches dot your chin, and you wink at the camera. He feels his chest tighten at how cute you look. You answer the prompts about your favorite show and your unpopular opinions with witty humor, making him smile to himself. Shit.

His thumbs hover over the screen, but he doesn’t dare to touch anything. What should he say? Should he say anything at all, or should he just swipe away? Would it be too weird? “Hey, I sent you that lingerie set you wore last week before your stream cut off. Can I take you out?” 

That is something to consider; suppose you two go out and really hit it off. When is it appropriate for him to mention that he’s your most loyal subscriber? Should he keep it to himself forever? But then, what if you find out on your own? Kei feels sweat begin to gather at his temples. 

Finally, he takes a deep breath. You may not even respond, so there’s no harm in shooting his pathetic little shot and going about his day. “Cool shirt. What’s your favorite Pokémon?” is what he settles on, replying directly to the silly selfie. He hits send, only letting himself exhale as he then powers off his phone and shoves it deep into the very bottom of his work bag. He has to forget that his phone exists altogether for the rest of the day, or else he’ll keep checking it obsessively. 

Kei makes it home hours later, ready to have a nice cup of tea and collapse into bed after having finished his work day and a grueling practice. He finally frees his phone from the deep recesses of his work bag to turn off his 6 AM alarm, fully prepared to skip at least his first morning class tomorrow…

…and sees a notification with your name on it. 

He’s awake now, eyes wide. You’ve answered. You know he exists. WIth a dry throat, he swipes to open your message.

“Thanks! I really like Corviknight and Primarina. How about you? :)”

Oh, shit. What does he say? He can’t remember the last time he’s watched or played Pokémon. He doesn’t even actually recognize either of those names, conducting a quick web search to verify that they are indeed real Pokémon. He scans his memory for anything, settling on the only name he can remember. 

“I like Chimchar. I played that one a lot as a kid.”

He hits send. 

…and immediately, he wants to kick the shit out of himself. Shouldn’t he have asked you something else to keep the conversation going?

But before he can even think of a second message to send, you reply, and his heart drops into his ass. 

“Cool! I wish I could remember which game he was in, I always get them mixed up, lol. Are you a gamer?”

No, he’s not. Not really, anyway. But do you like gamers? Should he lie?

“No, I played more as a kid. Not so much now. You?” He decides he should at least be mostly honest with you.

“Nope. I wish. I’m shit at video games. You play volleyball!”

Oh, fuck, he forgot you can see his profile, too. Duh. 

“Yeah, I’ve played for almost 9 years now. Have you ever played?”

“I have zerooooo hand-eye coordination. I wouldn’t last five minutes on a court”

“No way. I think you have potential.”

“I’d make you eat those words, lol! I’m more of an artsy girl than athletic”

“Do you draw?”

“I like to write! I make music from time to time too, but nothing major”

“Cool,” he writes, then hesitates. His face twists as if he’s experiencing physical pain as he continues typing, “I’d love to hear that music sometime.”

Is it too forward? You’ve been talking for a grand total of five or six minutes now. Would that text imply wanting a date? Is it too soon to ask for a date?

Fuck it, Kei thinks as he hits send. He’s already talking to you, so he may as well go for broke. And anyway, if you reject him, maybe he can start getting over you.

And Kei is now fully convinced that he must be God’s favorite, today—must be receiving some divine apology for the cruel way last week’s show had ended before he’d even really gotten to touch himself. Because you reply quickly, and Kei thinks he’s gonna throw up.