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“Hello everyone,” I whisper, using my signature clicky tone. “Welcome to tonight’s live stream.” I just turned on my camera thirty seconds ago and already a thousand viewers have joined. When you have scheduled times planned out, you have people who literally set alarms to see you, and it’s absolutely the sweetest.
I used to do a small introduction before every stream, but it’s just not worth even the few seconds it takes. New viewers come in on a constant loop, and they typically get the gist. My profile is easily accessible from my Live, and all you have to do is take a little look through there and you’ll get the vibe.
I’m Milo Lime, one of the top five ASMR live streamers in the United States, known for my clicky whispers, role-playing ASMR, and my love of lime green. I have five million followers on my main social platform—a short-form video sharing app that has the best live streaming algorithm—and another five hundred thousand on my YouTube channel.
I’ve been doing ASMR for two years, but I only started to get huge viewership in the last year. I started earning real money about six months ago. Learning how to optimize my time and making into the circle of people who are paid for content on this app. Making more than six figures a year is what allowed me to rent this place, and get out of my toxic as hell roommate situation.
My light projector is shifting from pink to purple to blue and back again tonight, with little white specks of light fading in and out of the northern light style waves of LED. I have a small lamp illuminating my face while the fun lights dance in the background. The setup highlights my white blonde hair, making it practically glow.
My mic is fully adjusted to the perfect volume and I’m already starting to stroke the furry cover, creating a soothing whoosh sound.
“How is everybody?” I ask, eyes scanning over the chat section of my screen.
Comments filter through faster than I can keep up, but I’m used to it. I try to focus on my subscribers first, knowing they pay a monthly fee for certain benefits. I like to give them as much attention as I can without getting too involved.
There are a few people who get too eager when talking with content creators. They want to know too much or want to get more than I’m willing to give. People who will ask for private messages—nothing nefarious—in exchange for virtual gifts. While I’m grateful that this is my job, it’s never not uncomfortable when someone asks to be friends on Snapchat in exchange for a five-hundred-dollar gift.
I’ve pretty much mastered dealing with those folks though, admitting that I’m very shy in my personal life and live streaming is the most social interaction I can handle. Though, I wouldn’t mind being very social with my hot handyman. Ugh, I’m going to be thinking about him all night.
“We’re going to do a lot of light triggers tonight,” I announce as the viewership jumps to three thousand. “So if role play and bright lights aren’t your favorite, this stream may not be for you.”
Immediately my comments are filled with excited viewers cheering for Eye Exam. There are also people who are rudely demanding I shut up and get to the tingles, but my moderators swiftly mute them.
Grabbing my light-up sticks, I flick them onto the green setting. “We’ll do a small eye exam role play first, I know it’s a crowd favorite. But there may be some gossiping involved. I’m afraid I might need some advice from you all.”
My subscribers know I’m a gay man. Even if I didn’t radiate rainbow, I’ve been pretty open and honest about it. Partially because I refuse to go back in the closet, and partially due to the insane number of female fans that have propositioned me before. Women are beautiful and I respect the hell out of them, but I have zero interest in bumping uglies with them.
I start off only focusing on the typical things I would do for this trigger, talking with the viewers as I glide my lights around the screen. I make it fifteen minutes in before the comments are simply flooded with people asking what advice I need.
Keeping my voice in a whisper so that the people who only want ASMR aren’t disturbed, I start to divulge a little. “So, I met a guy.”
In response to that one line, larger gifts start popping up on my screen and I have to mute my microphone to laugh. Turning it back on, I thank each user who sent something. “You guys are the sweetest and the craziest.”
I know enough to keep names out of it, but I have to spill the beans. Since becoming an adult, I’ve had zero luck making friends, so sometimes I have to chat with my viewers when I need to talk something out. Like my new obsession.
“You guys know I can’t give too many details but let's just say I had to have something fixed today and the man that came to do it… unbelievably gorgeous. Bush already loves him.”
Bush is everyone’s favorite guest star in my Lives. It’s like he knows people are watching on the other side of the phone because he never fails to purr directly into the mic. People even send gifts with little notes to buy Bush something nice in return and of course, I always do.
After several minutes of replying to comments and mentioning that I don’t know if he’s playing for the same team that I am, suggestions on what to do next start rolling in.
Apparently, I’m going to need to find something to break.
Getting Daddy Anthony back here is going to be as easy as pie, as long as I play it a little bit cool. I can’t set the standards too high for myself though. Knowing me, I’m going to ramble at the very least.
Hopefully, he finds it charming.
Chapter 3
Milo
I’ve spent the last week debating with my viewers about what to break in my apartment to get Anthony back here. Originally, I thought I could just unscrew some lights and pretend they’ve blown but that’s a horrible idea for a few reasons.
My ceilings are high as hell, so I’d probably climb up on something and break my neck trying to spin the bulbs. Plus, what if he spins them back and they flicker on? Talk about mortifying. He’d either assume I didn’t bother trying to tighten the bulbs or that I did it on purpose.
And even if he didn’t realize they aren’t blown, changing light bulbs isn’t exactly a difficult task. He’ll be in and out in like five minutes and I won’t have time to work up the courage to talk to him some more.
So lights simply weren’t going to cut it. Eventually, we came up with a pretty solid plan. And of course, we had to include Bush.
