You swear you don’t do this often – watching a streamer on live isn't a usual habit. But Satoru had caught your eye in a time of desperation, and he was pretty. Before you knew it, you were signing up for a subscription, saying goodbye to $20 a month and clicking onto his stream.

Satoru is leant back in a chair, one arm draped across the backrest. He speaks with an easy confidence that borders on arrogance, but it’s the kind of arrogance that’s magnetic, intoxicating. He’s shirtless , unbothered by the fact that his body is on display – biceps bulging, muscle cut and lean. Satoru knows he looks good – that's why he’s making so much money off these streams. Sensuality drips off him and his subscribers are wild in the chat.

Alright, enough of the noise, Satoru says, leaning into the mic, the teasing edge in his voice sharp and clear. I’m picking one lucky person for something special tonight. As a small treat for hitting 500k, he says to the camera with a small crooked smile, his white hair tousled, face half hidden by a smooth glossy mask, hiding half his face, smooth curves outlining under the apple of his cheek.

He takes his time, lets the tension stretch. Then, he picks it — one name in the sea of messages. It stands out from the rest, and when Satoru calls it, there’s a shift, a pulse of electricity.

Satoru murmurs softly into the mic, brow arched.