so what

A fun, dirty way of paying tuition and helping your boyfriend with bills, but you make sure no one at school or in your group of friends knows you're doing it. What started out as you fucking around with your best friend selling feet pics when you were high and bored, you quickly became sucked in by the lure of attention and monetary rewards for showing your naked, anonymous body to paying strangers online. You've been building a subscriber list for a couple years now, promoting yourself on Instagram with raunchy, teasing selfies and videos, under the pseudonym ‘Misty.' Usually, a blunt would be sitting between two fingers to help you get through the tediousness of blurring your faces and photoshopping out your tattoos, but it's been a while since your boyfriend has paid a visit to his dealer.

You met your boyfriend during the final half of your senior year of undergrad, in an elective for web design. He was sweet, always showing up to meet up right before class, hanging around after to walk you back to your dorm. You studied together, pulled all nighters in the library, and after a party celebrating the end of midterms, you went back to his dorm and he fucked you to sleep. Maybe you didn’t have too much in common, maybe he could be a little inattentive at times, forgot to call you when he said he would, relied on you to plan out dates, but he showered you with flowers and small gifts, paid every time you went out, drove you around whenever you needed a ride. If you argued, he was quick to cave and apologize or compromise. He filled in the lonely gaps in your life. And the sex was nice. Okay, maybe he rarely went down on you and you’ve given yourself harder and faster orgasms than he managed to pull out of you, but he usually made you come at least once, which was more than you got from previous partners. And he was good at aftercare and always ended up spooning you in his sleep. Things were good.

You always felt a little bad for not telling him about your Only Fans account, only because you worried that he, like any other guy, would get upset and end up spilling your secret to his friends, destroying your reputation. You thought about giving it up, but the little odd jobs you found around campus were not enough to support you, so you kept doing it.

Close to your six month anniversary, your shitty apartment flooded and destroyed a ton of your valuables, and he let you crash for a while. After finding out that your apartment was moldy and uninhabitable, he offered for you to just move in with him. A little soon in the relationship to be taking this step? Yeah, but you had nowhere else to go. Your best friend, Ana, just moved in with her beefcake boyfriend, and you didn't want to impose. And your boyfriend said that you didn't have to pay rent while you got back on your feet. 

It was then that you decided to come clean.

At first, a little light in his eyes died, and he seemed to be very uncomfortable, which you understood. But after assuring him that you obscured your identity and sharing how much you made, he became more open to the fact. 

The first time you let him watch you set up your phone on the tripod and record content, he sat in his gaming chair as you knelt on the bed, and slowly peeled off your skimpy robe. You felt a little nervous under his scrutinizing gaze, so you left your lingerie on and kept things rated R instead of your usual rated X. You willed yourself not to look past the camera at him as you teasingly rolled your hips and massaged your breasts, murmuring “You like that?” and other dirty talk to the screen.

“How far do you go?” he asked, clearing his throat when you turned around to wiggle your ass, showing off your brand new thong.

“I take off everything and play with myself a little.”

“Do you come?”

“Sometimes.”  You often made so much content that it became harder to get yourself in the mood, but you always played it up for the camera. He’d never know that you occasionally use those tactics with him. He got up, erection straining in his sweats, and met you by the edge of the bed, looking down at you with lust in his eyes you’d never seen before. 

“Do you think you’d make more money if you had someone to fuck you?”

“Do you have someone in mind?”

He smirked, grabbed your face, kissed you, and fucked you as if the camera wasn’t there. When you watched the video again, he seemed to be so turned on by it that he gave you another couple rounds. And from it, you received a stream of new subscribers, even more on Instagram when you posed together for faceless pictures - you sitting or kneeling on the bed, him standing dominatingly beside you, holding your cheek, your throat, like he wanted the whole internet to know you were his. Your subscribers ate it up.

And then it became a routine. You worked your part time shifts at the off-campus cafe, he at his office job, went to your classes, and then on the weekends tumbled around in the sheets with the camera rolling. Money steadily increased in your shared savings account and you became more comfortable working less hours so you could focus on your studies, however unenthused you might be about your degree. 

As the weeks went by, he started taking you out less on dates. Maybe because he took on more hours at work, and since you lived together, he saw you all the time, so he’d rather hang out with his boys on his days off. (Friends that he never brought over, and a part of you wondered if it had something to do with you.) He still made time to record content, but only after he finished streaming his game on Twitch. Although you’d never bring it up to him, worried you might disturb this groove you’ve become accustomed to, the spark you once had fizzled a little. Sex started to feel less about intimacy, and more about a couple trying to make a couple bucks. But you’d be dumb trying to fix something that’s not completely broken. So you make yourself enjoy the moments he’s affectionate with you when the camera isn’t on. Even if you’re the one seeking him out.

You know he had a rough time at work last week, which is why you didn’t make a fuss about why he didn't invite you to his basketball tournament out of town. It is nice to have time alone, but without someone to talk to, you feel yourself becoming lonely. You owe it to yourself to have a self-care night, so as soon as you finish editing, you’ll hop in a warm, bubbly bath.

After making the final edits and watching it through on mute a couple times to make sure you didn't miss blurring anything, you upload it to your account. You think this one will roll in quite a bit of cash, as you recorded multiple angles of your boyfriend fucking you from behind fast and rough and lewd, expelling loud moans and borderline cries from you. Some of your sounds are exaggerated and porn star-y, but it seems to appeal to your viewers, as you received tons of extra tips in addition to comments and DMs on your Instagram.

You spend a long time in the bath and once you're done, you order takeout, put on a soothing face mask, and settle in on the couch again to watch a movie. While you wait for your food to cool, already bored, you log back into Insta to check for feedback and requests for a subscription or access to a more exclusive level of content. A string of message threads has flooded your DMs, and you’re about to shut off your phone and deal with them later when a new message pops in. Your eyebrow raises. This one has an actual picture in the icon. And a real username - dj gloss.

Who the fuck is this guy??? You click onto his profile, and you’re taken to an unprivated page flooded with photo sets and reels featuring him. He's messaging you, an Only Fans creator, from his personal account? No one has ever DMed you like this, without hiding their identity behind a blank profile. “Tokyo” by Brockhampton plays on his most recent video of a POV shot as he glides around on a skateboard, wearing black vans and loose, ripped jeans, wires of earbuds hitting his chest as he makes sharp turns and casual flips of the board. All the while he lifts a joint in and out of the frame, smoke billowing around before being carried off by the wind.

Why do you find that so cool? Ugh! You should abandon this conversation now, but one, okay, two things has you curious and needing answers.

It should end there. But you've never had your attention snagged like this. You've never had a conversation with a stranger who pulled you in, made it easy to talk to. Maybe because the last time you spoke to your boyfriend was a couple days ago and your best friend has been too busy renovating her apartment to have time to hang out or chat on the phone, maybe because you’re bored and maybe because you’re tired, these are the excuses you go with to justify your continued scrolling through his profile. And seeing what this man is up to in his life, you can’t help but be intrigued. More videos and pictures of him skating, looking cool as hell, you zoom in one that more clearly shows his fake. He is not unfortunate looking. And he has a fucking piercing on his left eyebrow. You scroll on before your mind can wander to other places he might have piercings. He has pictures surrounded by groups of friends, of an adorable black cat (that's wearing a ruffled bowtie this guy can't be fucking real), and you get stuck on a thread of photos of him standing in front of a turntable, headphones on, facing an enthusiastic, jumping crowd. He's a DJ, too? How many side quests is this guy on?

It really should've ended there. But it doesn’t.

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“I think I left something at your place.”

“Like what?”

“Lotion.”

“You want to come all the way to my place for lotion?”

“It’s very special to me.”