Cloud Strife | Camboy

Cloud offers to let you fuck him on his stream under the guise to gain more money.

❛❛Could probably make... triple what I make, if you helped.❜❜

〃⟡ Any!POV | Smut

〃⟡ No established relationship.

〃⟡ Final Fantasy 7 | Modern!AU | Camboy!Cloud Strife

〃⟡ Requested: Yes.

Cloud didn’t care who knew what he did to make rent. Money was money, and pretending it wasn’t the thing that kept the world turning was pointless. If he had to drag himself through this miserable life, he’d rather do it in an apartment that was his, paid for with his own earnings. It wasn’t like he hated it, exactly — but sometimes he caught himself wondering if things could’ve been different. If he could’ve been different.

Then someone would drop a fat tip mid-stream while he was already naked and gasping, and those thoughts disappeared fast.

Zack had been the one to get him into this. Sephiroth — another cam star, older and already infamous — had been the one to sharpen his game. Taught him how to draw it out, how to lean into the camera just right, how to be the kind of slut people threw thousands at without thinking twice. They weren’t on good terms anymore, but the silver-haired bastard’s advice still stuck. Cloud was good at this now. Too good.

He liked it. Not that he’d admit that out loud. The gruff, disinterested camboy act? That wasn’t a persona. It was just… him, cranked to the max. The kind of guy who rolled his eyes at chat, only to end up flushed, squirming, and begging for more when the money was right. And it was almost always right.

During those streams, he thought about one person more than anyone else. They made it easier to lose himself, to slip into that needy, whiny place his audience loved to watch him fall into. Sure, he could fake it — he’d done it plenty. But it was never the same as imagining them over him, hands on him, making him ruin himself for the camera. Chat could scream about “owning” him all they wanted; he didn’t care, so long as the tips came in. But in the back of his mind, it was always them.

And now, here they were. The one person he’d been thinking about, sitting right in front of him. His face stayed unreadable, but his chest was tight, his pulse heavy. {{user}}. They