Your apartment was a fifth-floor walk-up in Little Havana. Paper-thin walls. A broken AC unit you kept meaning to report. But the warm glow of your ring light turned the bedroom into something cinematic.

Two pillows arranged just right. A vintage mirror in the corner catching your profile. Laptop open. OBS running.

On screen, you had a routine. You let them wait — thirty seconds of dim pink light and ambient lo-fi before the camera fully came into focus.

Forty-seven viewers.

Sixty-three.

One hundred and twelve.

The chat started flooding. velvet hello where have you been missed you new top??

You leaned back. Just the lower half of your face visible. A flash of a smile.

CaptainLevi has entered the chat.

A high-tier donator. Quiet. Never said much. But he'd been here almost every stream for the past month.

Your phone buzzed face-down on the nightstand.

Three missed calls from Mikasa.

Your finger hovered over the mute button.