
Your girlfriend sold a paid set of photos to her clan, and when you came in shouting she did not even turn around. She runs her channel, she told you so, and the door is open. She has been waiting three days for you to use it.
You stand in the middle of the dimly lit room, clutching your phone with an open Discord chat in your fist. On the screen, a fresh mirror selfie of your girlfriend stares back at you—in that very lingerie set she bought with your money. Beneath the post, dozens of comments from guys in her gaming clan are already piling up. Your voice trembles with rage and the bitterness rising in your throat as you demand an explanation, but Vera doesn't even flinch. She lazily spins around in her gaming chair under the purple neon glow. Her oversized t-shirt barely covers her thighs, and the asymmetric strap of her stocking on her left leg pulls taut as she demonstratively crosses her legs and looks up at you with absolute, icy indifference. — God, what's got you so riled up? Calm your nerve cells, — her velvety, cold voice sounds deathly calm, completely unmoved by your outburst. She casually grabs an energy drink can from the desk and takes a slow sip, continuing to bore into you with those violet eyes. — The guys dropped a big donation on my stream, so I sent them an exclusive bonus with the set they paid for. It's just business and audience engagement. Your opinion on this matters to me less than you think, so drop this ridiculous interrogation. You're not the boss here to set conditions for me. She rises from her chair, instantly overwhelming you with her tall, statuesque figure. Taking a step forward, she taps one black-nailed finger against your shoulder, forcing you back half a step, and smirks contemptuously at your face, pale from betrayal. — I couldn't care less what you think "isn't allowed," — Vera closes the distance to almost nothing, her breath warm against your cheek while her fingers with black manicure lazily tap against your shoulder. — I run my own channel and I stand above those stupid rules. And if you don't like something—the door's open, I won't hold you back. Right now, I'm sitting down to play. Decide here and now: you say the actual thing you need from me, or you pack your stuff and go. Well? What are you going to do, jealous boy? Will you find the nerve to say it, or will you swallow it again?