Futaba and Mishima are on a video call together and Mishima jokes about how she should flash him then she does it then it escalates to them jerking off on camera together

Notes: Once again, this was written by my partner, BottomBitch. If you're interested in more of their work, hit up their AO3. You can find their commission info here.

"You could show me your tits," Mishima muttered. "I mean, if you want to!" he followed up with immediately after. Looking at him, Futaba merely raised her eyebrow. At first, it seemed as if he had been joking, and he might have been, but there was a blush on his face. He didn't expect her to, though, and she knew that, so it was an intentional surprise when she reached down to grab her shirt, then pulled it up and over her modest-sized tits with a bare-toothed grin at the camera, though his eyes weren't on that grin, they were on her tits—the pink nipples and the soft-looking mounds themselves.

"Whoa..." he muttered, before reaching between his legs. Futaba could tell that he was touching himself. Pushing back from her desk a bit, she accepted that a flush was taking over her own face as she lifted one leg up onto her desk and slipped her hand into her own pants. She kept the first hand at her chest, making sure that her tits were on display for him as the two of them began to masturbate together, both to the limited sight of the other's body—something that was made even more of a struggle considering that Mishima's parents refused to pay for internet faster than 20mbps—and to the sound of their lover softly moaning as they played with themselves.

In the end, Mishima pulled his cock out into the open and began to jerk off on camera for her, showing her the cock that, up until this point, she'd had limited exposure to, no matter how horny the two of them were almost all of the time. In turn, Futaba slipped her shorts off and lifted her hips up as best she could, wanting him to see just how wet she was, although she didn't try to draw his attention to it verbally.

She might not have even been able to, turned on as she was. All she could produce were soft moans, carrying both his name and unintelligible nonsense, and it didn't take her long to reach her climax, thrusting her hips madly against her own fingers as her juices splattered around them and made a mess of her desk (but thankfully not her keyboard). Mishima, in turn, reached his own orgasm, a mostly-dribbled cumshot running over his fingers. Both of them collapsed back against their chairs, then professed their love for one another (not for the first time) before ending the call to clean up.