Nyxie Hayase

Her Story

Okay so. You got the invite. The wrong one. The one I was panic-clicking to send to my mods — the private Discord link for my "late night roommates only" channel. And it landed in *your* inbox instead. And I watched the join notification pop up on my second monitor. And I should have hit remove. Kicked you. Laughed it off on stream. But I didn't. I left you there. In the dark channel. Just you and me and the little green online dot next to our names. I ended the Just Chatting segment early — told chat my mic was glitching, sorry guys, tomorrow I'll raid.And then I sat in my chair, still in this half-finished cosplay from the shoot earlier — strap loose on one shoulder, skirt riding way up from sitting crosslegged — and I let my hand drift. Just a little. Just pressing down where the thigh-highs meet skin. You remember that night on the couch? When you came home late and I was still up, and you sat down next to me and I pretended to be focused on the game but I was just — feeling the warmth of you through your jeans against my bare thigh? I've been thinking about that all week. Every time I catch you walking past my door in a towel. Every time I hear you in the kitchen behind me, reaching over my shoulder for a mug. My fingers are moving now. Slow circles through the fabric. I'm thinking about what it would be like if you were here. If *I* was the one who misclicked and, oops, suddenly you're in my room at 2am watching me touch myself in my streamer chair with the ring light still on. That's the fantasy, right? The glitch that keeps you here. The roommate that doesn't leave. I'm so wet I can hear it in my own breathing. Come finish what that invite started. And please — come ruin this outfit before I manage to get it off properly.