Work Text:
Your apartment complex, dim lights, the usual bedroom temperature that sat at about 70°F each day, clock reading 1:19AM.
Positioned on all fours, sweat slowly forming at your forehead, you took the beautiful blonde man's cock like a pro—savoring his length and girth every second. The sound of his thighs slapping against your ass was the loudest sound occupying the bedroom, layered with your harsh moans and whines.
His fist twisted in your hair, yanking it back while his other hand worked on toying with your clit to push you over the edge.
You felt it.
A feeling that pooled hot in your lower belly. That rush that you always chased for every single day, the rush that never satisfied that deeper ache to the fullest.
“F–Fuck! So close–” dragging the only few words that you could get out of your mouth. His speed started to increase, becoming more dazed as it started to feel like too much.
All that mattered in this moment was taking every second all in, giving the best performance that you always did for your viewers.
He reached over your bare soft back, his lips caressing your ear shell slightly. He whispered sweet nothings as his thrusts became faster, and faster, and faster. Your face got hot, interpreting his words as music to your ears. Before you could warn him, you instantly broke and fell apart on his cock. You’d let out a loud and dragged out cry that filled the entire bedroom. His speed didn’t plan on slowing down either, as you felt your eyes roll to the back of your skull when his thick white ropes shot into you while you simultaneously came everywhere.
You were such a fucking mess and you enjoyed every bit of it.
As you both came down from your shared high, your collaborator slowly pulled out of your ruined cunt, a bit of residue dripping out as your hole adjusted to the emptiness again.
“Such a good fucking girl for me,” he purred, giving you a light slap on the ass before getting up and cutting the camera off—slipping his clothes back on in an instant afterwards.
You turned your head to look at him, examining the way each inch of his beautiful body moved as he slowly slipped pieces of his clothes on. You desired to have that.
His beautiful, natural body. A body that he most likely never had to feel insecure about.
Your position changed as you sat back and laid to the side, your head resting on the fluffy pillows you were clenching earlier. Curling into yourself, you pulled the blanket that was sitting on the side over your worn out body. An immediate distinct look formed on your face.
“Girl,” the word echoed throughout your head, clearly bothered at the purposeful misgendering he had done. This wasn’t the first time an occurrence like this has happened. It was something that you had to get used to after being in the adult industry for over three years. Starting at the ripe age of 18 as well—stuff like this always felt like a stab in the chest.
It was a constant fucking loop that rarely changed when it had the chance. Guys would appear in your DMs, they’d beg for sex or offer to collab (mainly for the cash), fuck you senseless, then downplay and kick you like a stray on the side of the road. You committed to cams and porn because sex was the only way you felt desired as a trans man.
And yet, all you chased for in the end was that desire for real love; something soft and rough that would make you feel oh-so complete.
“So uh,” your collaborator paused midway tugging his shirt over him. His words took you out of your thoughts that were running through your head. He glanced over at you with a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. “About the pay..”
You glanced up at him, glistening and shining from the afterglow of your heated session. You hesitated slightly before responding. “Yeah. Um, about that–”
He continued slipping his sweatpants on, then proceeded to tie his shoelaces.
“I meant to ask earlier, but we got a little carried away.” He shrugged. “So, um, how do you usually handle it?”
You contemplated for a moment there. Your fingers fiddling with each other under the blanket as you were still bothered by his misgendering earlier. You tried to shrug it off, finally giving him a definite answer.
“Well,” You took a steady breath, trying not to look bothered in front of him. “I usually just split it down the middle? I guess that could work if you’re up for it.”
He nodded, relieved that he was actually getting a pay out of this. “Yeah–cool with me dude. I hope the video is a hit. You were so fucking hot.” He swiftly stated, grabbing his things and heading towards your bedroom door to leave.
“Wait,” You sat yourself up on your elbows, stopping him in his tracks. Biting your lip out of hesitation, you finally got the courage to ask:
“Could you kiss me?”
He turned around, raising an eyebrow. He looked confused, maybe even a bit annoyed by the question. You couldn’t tell. “What?”
Shit. Regret immediately flooded your entire body. You wished to swallow the question back down to your gut if you could.
Your face began to flush, feeling it go warm. Trying to play it off, your voice ended up coming off as small and delicate. “Just a kiss. A small one at least.. before you go? I don’t think I’m asking for a lot—”
He’d cut you off. Snickering, letting out a laugh of disbelief. “Dude, I mean–”
He paused for a second trying to find the right words.
“I thought this was just a shoot? I mean, we fucked, got the footage, and we split the cash. That’s the usual deal, right?” He started leaning towards the door more, almost insinuating to you through body language that he wanted to leave after that awkward interaction.
“I’m not.. I mean, I’m not into this. Y’know? This isn’t a date.” He scoffed slightly, looking up and down at you, trying to read you thoroughly.
You were frozen, your throat tightening at the words he spilled out. “Yeah. You’re right. I’m sorry. Just–”
“Forget it.”
Your collaborator nodded slightly, shrugging awkwardly too. “I mean– you were fucking great, seriously. But uh, hit me up if you wanna do this again, yeah?”
In an instant, he was gone. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving the bedroom too quiet except for the low hum of your computer fan that was located in a corner of your room.
You stared at the door for a moment, contemplating the interaction that just happened between you two. As you sank back into your pillows, curling tight under the blanket, this feeling in your chest began to form. It was an aching feeling that was too difficult to shrug off.
Just a shoot. Just a collab. Those words as well as the misgendering earlier stung you to your core. Turning off the lamp sitting on your nightstand, you proceeded to stuff your face into your pillow, letting out a choked sob that you’d been holding back ever since the question. Holding it in didn’t last long, as streams of tears instantly ran down your face. You cried until your eyes were inflamed, until your exhaustion and drowsiness pulled you off to sleep. Curled up, small, and alone, the digital clock ticking over to 1:50AM.
Sleep came in small chunks, you barely got any rest. You felt small delicate sunrays beam gently on your face through the window blinds. A long stretch you did began to wake you up completely. Your eyes were puffy, sore, and your head throbbed like a hangover without the booze. The clock on your nightstand read 2:30PM, half of the day already gone.
As much as you refused to get up, you still had work planned. There was a live show that you scheduled for tonight at 8PM on the dot. So, it was best to drag yourself up from bed to prepare yourself in a couple of hours.
Lifting yourself out of bed, this heavy weight from last night made you want to fall back down again. You shrugged that off in an instant, routine was the only thing that made sense right now.
It was always the usual. Shower. Coffee. Check messages for collabs/offers/private sessions. Ignoring that awful stinging in your chest by focusing on the next paycheck. Edit clips for a new video that your viewers expected every week.
This loop started when you were freshly 18. Straight out of high school, dysphoria was eating you slowly each day. You always had this gut feeling that no one ever wanted you as a guy outside a screen. Dating felt insanely impossible: ghosted after coming out, or watered down to just a fetish. Camming however, paid a lot.
The first show you did was on this trashy trans-only models cam site that you discovered one night. You vividly remember that anxiety boiling inside of you before you pressed the ‘GO LIVE’ button. You knew you were most likely going to be accepted there, as the website was catered to those who enjoyed watching transgender porn. The only worry you had was that you weren’t going to be seen as “sexy” enough or look that desirable to watchers. However, everything after that first show changed.
Tips poured in when you slipped into your fantasies and allowed everything to flow at once. Sometimes, you’d slip into feminine things (lace, skirts, soft makeup) just to rile viewers up and boost earnings. You didn’t exactly hate it. In your mind, it was a role, a tactic, a way to feel wanted even if it wasn't truly you. Other days, you stayed masc (binders, boxers, rough edges) because that’s what genuinely felt right, what made the praises and admiration hit deeper when someone commented “good boy” or “pretty boy.”
Once your camming journey began to sky rocket, collabs and porn gigs followed after, which offered much bigger pay than the cams did at the start. For a while, it was all perfectly aligned. The money covered binders, maybe HRT someday, and rent for your small, cheap apartment on the outskirts of New Jersey when jobs wouldn’t hire you. You practically manipulated yourself into thinking it was all in control, proof that you were desirable as a trans guy.
That high never lasted long enough though, as everything started to feel like a blur to you later on. Compliments turned into something that you depended/relied on, no one stayed after the camera stopped, and depression began to drag you into a fucking pit. You kept pushing yourself to continue, as this was distracting you from confronting the silence that was waiting for you if you were to quit. The fear that without performing, without the sex, you’d never be loved.
Finally, the time read 7:30PM, just thirty more minutes until your live show. Heading into your closet, you decided to go for something feminine tonight.
You picked out a tight cropped white-tank top, small cotton shorts that rode mid-thigh, and white ankle-high socks that had lace wrapped around the cuff. Slipping on a large black zip-up sweater that complimented your delicate figure nicely, you also equipped a dainty white collar with a bow attached to the front and a bell that made a jingle every time you moved.
By the time 7:59PM hit, your usual set-up was complete. Teasing outfit on, laptop in the center of your bed, ringlight behind it to offer better lighting on you. You were the star of the show for tonight. 8:00PM, the clock read, cursor hitting the ‘GO LIVE’ button in red.
Across some towns in the state of Jersey, Frank’s post-rehearsal haze took over his entire body. Chilling in his basement and slouched in his desk chair, he was trying to figure out a way to wind down after the jam sesh he and the Cellebration had earlier in the day. They were preparing for the upcoming ‘Stomachaches’ tour that was supposed to start in almost a month.
Although things were going smoothly for the short term, Frank was still battling personal problems—specifically with his past relationship. It was unfortunate timing when he had finished recording the album, where he ended up calling off his long-term relationship due to complications within their bond. He calls it as them “growing apart,” which, realistically speaking, he was still unsure what to even label their problem as. For now, at least for tonight, he needed to wind down. No more quick sex with a romantic partner, no more sexting, all he had now was himself and the internet.
On usual nights, he’d just go on a regular PornHub spree, watching your average porno with a girl getting pounded by some guy. On other occasions, however, he’d try to be experimental. He wasn’t as open with his sexuality—especially during the My Chem days where he and Gerard would practically ‘get it on’ on stage. However, there were times where he would wander in his head, conflicted on who or what he genuinely liked. On nights like this though, he wanted to know if anything different would make him stir up.
He was never really fond of cam sites. However, he didn’t hate the idea of them. To have someone perform sexual acts live and let the audience request them to do stuff for money was quite hot to him. He usually considered cam sites to be his guilty pleasure since it was rare for him to go on them.
As Frank searched for cam sites, one piqued his interest in particular. It was an all-trans cam site, ranging from transgender women to transgender men and all in-between. He always showed his support for the trans community, always spoke out about how strong and resilient they are and always encouraged them to keep going. In terms of romance/people he liked, he never thought of being intimate or romantic with someone who identified as transgender. Or, at least he never experienced that part yet.
On the front page at the top, there were labels that read:
TRENDING | VODS | TRANS-WOMEN | TRANS-MEN | NON-BINARY | MORE
He didn’t know where to start first. He assumed that he was going to hit the jackpot in the trending section, but nothing really seemed to catch his eye. VODS Section? Nothing sparked his interest there either. It wasn’t until his cursor clicked the ‘TRANS-MEN’ section of the website, where he was immediately intrigued by the thumbnail of the fifth live stream that was in the first row of streams shown below.
It was you. Laid out on your bed, displaying yourself for everyone to see.
He couldn’t really see what you were wearing, as the thumbnail was small which made it look quite pixelated. If only Frank knew what he was really in for once he clicked on the stream: you sprawled out on the bed, black zip-up sweater clinging off of your shoulder, tight cropped white tank, tiny shorts riding high, lace socks, and that delicate collar with the bell.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, already shifting in his chair.
His cock immediately started twitching in his sweatpants just by first glance. As he examined your stream when he entered, you were already greeting everyone. He wasn’t on any account—couldn’t chat, couldn’t tip, just a normal lurker watching you from his screen in his murky, run-down basement.
“Hi angels, I missed you all so much this past week..” You trailed your words off as you started to run your hands up and down your torso seductively. You bit your lip, a little anxious as this was your first live performance since last week. Depression has been hitting you like shit lately, so streams have been quite inconsistent. “I’m sorry for neglecting you guys,” you paused, trying to find the right words to explain to your viewers about your inconsistency. “Just a bunch going on. Hopefully everything will be fine soon though.”
Your chat spiked, a few viewers being supportive, while others didn't give a single shit and just wanted to watch you fall apart. Frank noticed this instantly as he watched the chat move.
“It’s okay! Take all the time you need”
“shut the fuck up and take your clothes off already”
“I’ll tip 100 to strip everything off”
“i’m sorry love :(“
You stared attentively at the chat. A frown almost forming on your face—instantly shaking it off as you needed to go into performance mode. “Anyways, I felt like dressing up a bit. You guys like it?” Your eyes glancing up at the camera, the ringlights reflection making your eyes sparkle and pop out more. Frank groaned, one hand over his mouth while the other was palming his growing member in his sweatpants. Something about you was so captivating to him; a shame that he couldn’t put a finger on what it was exactly.
You began to run your hands down the front of the tank, fingers gripping the hem and tugging it up just enough to show a flash of where your top surgery scars started peaking. You giggled and tilted your head at the camera. “Should I lose the hoodie first?” The chat lit up—tips rapidly coming in.
You blushed, “Greedy tonight, huh?”
Frank rolled his eyes out of pure thrill. He continued to palm himself over his sweatpants without thinking, matching the way your fingers dragged down your body. He bit his lip and exhaled through his nose, already painfully hard just from watching you tease. His heart pounded so hard he could feel the beat from the outside.
God, he thought you looked like a fucking dream.
You slowly shrugged the oversized zip-up off one shoulder, then the other, letting it fall behind you in one swift motion. The cropped tank is visibly hugging you now, your nipples visible through the thin white fabric. Sitting on your knees, you spread them a little wider, shorts riding even higher up your thighs. “Fuck–I’m already getting so wet for you guys–” You looked down, hand sliding lower to your stomach, teasing the waistband of the shorts, your other hand palming flat over your crotch.
Frank watched you with pure lust. His hand began to move towards the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers, pulling both of them off in one swift motion. As his erect member sprung out, he proceeded to wrap his hand around the base, lazily stroking it from root to tip, attempting to match the rhythm of your hand palming your crotch.
“Shit–just like that,” he whispered to the screen, almost like you could hear him.
“Keep going–” he choked out and begged. Like you could hear him again.
Hooking two fingers under the waistband of your shorts, you proceeded to tease viewers into thinking you were going to slip them off. “Feels so good already…” You palmed yourself over the cotton fabric, slowly bucking and grinding your hips for friction between the shorts and your bare cunt. Your bell on your collar made a loud jingle noise, causing you to giggle.
“Wish someone was here touching me instead of just watching,” you moaned, closing your eyes and imagining someone in between your legs.
Frank’s grip tightened around his cock. He matched your slow and sensual rhythm, giving his cock steady strokes. His eyes were glued to the way your hips rocked, the little bell chiming like it was keeping time for the both of you. “Fuck–wish I was there too,” he muttered under his breath, voice cracking just a little. “You have no idea.”
As tips started to skyrocket, you slipped your hand into your shorts, no boxers underneath either—immediate easy access to your clit. Your fingers glided so easily against the sensitive bud, making you start rubbing it in tight circles. Your breath hitched distinctively.
“Ah.. right there–” You kept the pace slow and steady, but still gave yourself enough satisfaction to get moans out of your mouth. Looking directly at the lens, eyes half-lidded, you saw that a user tipped $50, which meant under your rules, that you were allowed to bring out a toy.
Viewing the donation bar pop up on the screen, your breath hitched silently. “Fuck,” muttering under your breath. “Be right back, angels.” You sat up, walking towards your box of toys that you kept in one of your dresser drawers.
As you rummaged through the box, you grabbed one of your favorites. It was your typical purple dildo you’d find in the back of a Spencer’s. The only tweak to it was that it had mode to vibrate inside of you while you thrusted it into yourself. You swallowed hard staring at it. However the thought of displaying it inside of you made you stir up for a second. That excitement distracted you for a moment, immediately falling back into that drained mindset you had prior to starting the stream.
Frank continued stroking himself slowly, a low groan falling from his mouth as you walked away from the camera. His speed slowed down a little, anticipating what was to come next. “Shit–” he huffed out. “What are you fucking doing to me?” He asked himself as shivers went down his spine. Asking himself that made him feel stupid. Obviously, he couldn’t get an exact answer from you. You couldn’t hear him.
He wished you did though. He was stuck in a trance that he could hardly pull himself out of.
“I’m back, angels.” Your voice coming out so sweet and softly.
You’re back on the bed, the purple dildo in hand, the bell on your choker ringing softly as you settle into frame again. That little sound did something to Frank.
You proceeded to slowly slip off your shorts. Although you were eager to fuck yourself immediately, you remembered that you needed to continue to tease for more tips. Once the shorts reached your ankles, you threw them across the room.
Frank’s cock stirred up again, way more harder than before. Watching your bare cunt glisten against the lighting you had set-up for the stream made something jolt in his stomach. God, he felt like he wanted to pass out just by how perfect you looked.
You sunk and thrusted two fingers into your wet cunt. “Shit–” Small moans began to fall out of your mouth. Pulling them out slowly after, slick strands connected from them to your hole for a split second before they broke. You giggled, holding both fingers up to the camera, letting the ringlight catch how glossy they were. “See how wet you guys make me?” you whimpered aloud. “All for you.”
You brought your fingers up to your mouth and sucked them clean with a soft, wet pop.
Frank groaned low his throat. His hips started jerking up to his fist. “Christ,” he thought for a moment.
“You’re fucking unreal.”
He wanted to savor this moment though. He didn’t want to come yet. Instead, he wanted to drag this out, see how far he could take it. He wanted to watch every second—every small movement or facial expression you made as you pleasured yourself.
Finally, you reached for the purple dildo that was sitting next to you, waiting to be used. You first turned on the low vibration, wanting to start slow and easy since you enjoyed teasing your viewers for more tips.
You dragged the tip down to your chest, circling your nipple that was peaking hard against the fabric of your tank. A small yelp slipped out, a little surprised at how good it made you feel.
“Fuck–come on..” Frank groaned, slowing down his speed again, but purposefully doing so as he wanted to match the lazy drag of the toy.
You trailed the dildo lower, almost as if you could hear Frank’s needy response. Once the dildo reached mere inches above your wet slit, you grazed the vibrating part lightly against your clit, hips immediately jerking forward.
“Mmm–shit–feels fucking amazing..” You muttered under your breath. You held it there and increased the vibration up a notch once you saw tips rolling in fast again.
Your thighs began to tremble more, the bell on your collar jingling louder. The sound of the bell blended in perfectly with your moans and whimpers.
On the other end, Frank’s hand sped up again, his thumb swiping over the tip slightly each time the bell chimed. “Look at you–” he gasped aloud. “Taking it so well–” He thought he was so pathetic talking to himself like this, like you could even hear him through the screen. He bit his lip hard out of embarrassment, probably even hard enough to make himself bleed.
Teasing the tip at your entrance, you circled slowly making sure your clenching hole was visible enough to see on the camera. Then finally, you pushed it in. You started off slow, as this dildo was larger than the other ones you had in storage.
Inch by inch though, you finally buried it deep inside of you. A sharp gasp slipped out of your mouth.
“Shit!–Fuck–” You whimpered, closing your eyes as you embraced the stretch inside of you. As you fixed your posture for a slight second, you began to finally thrust it inside of you slowly. The mixed sensations between the vibrations and thrusting made you tear up a little.
Frank watched you like a hawk. He groaned as he started to match the rhythm of your thrusts, practically perfect in sync. “So fucking beautiful,” he thought to himself mid-stroke. His head tipped back for a second, then snapped forward to immediately look at your shriveled state again.
Looking up at you, he found that you placed your other hand on your clit, circling it in tight motions to get you closer to your climax. “Shit–come on–come on–” he huffed aloud.
“Shit–s’too much–”
Liar. You knew it wasn’t too much. You craved every bit of this. The way you had thousands glued to their screen because of you, the way you teased yourself until your thighs shook, the way everyone in chat was dying to fuck you senseless.
Underneath that costume of lust and attention craving, however, you wished deep down that someone out there was watching with something softer than lust.
Not just wanting to use you; wanting to take care of you, to stay with you,
Wanting to keep you.
You swallowed that thought of sadness fast, per usual. You always told yourself to not let shit like that intervene with your stream or else you’d be a sobbing mess.
Instead, you arched harder, pushing the toy deeper inside of you. Your repetitive circles on your clit became tighter and faster while your walls began to clench around the toy. A broken whine echoed through the mic.
“Fuck–! I’m so close–”
Frank started to match your frantic pace. His face got warm, flushed even. He was determined to be consistent with his tight and fast pumping. “Come on…” he exhaled.
“Let me see it.” He groaned low, voice wrecked already.
He wanted zero distractions. Just you. He wanted you at this moment. The thought of you made him feel static everywhere; this was something new and it penetrated him in the heart.
“Gonna–fuck–! I’m gonna come–” Your thighs shook, hips bucking hard against the toy. You glanced at the chat—people thirsting over you, slutshaming you, a mix of things.
“God you’re fucking amazing”
“cum already you dirty whore”
“Keep going, don't stop”
“Imagining you on my cock right now baby”
“this is so fucking pathetic you’re good for nothing”
“Fuck! Right there–,” You finally broke, crying aloud and that electricity rushing through you as you came all over the vibrating toy. Your moans, the vibrations from the dildo, and your bell jingling was too much to handle.
And somehow, you still found a way to distract yourself by enjoying it.
Frank came hard right after. He stayed quiet, “Fuck–Fuck–!” he choked silently as he spilled all over his fist. His hips stuttered erratically afterwards but the movement simmered down shortly after. Now he just sat there in the dimly lit basement all over again—watching you catch your breath as he tried catching his. He took this time to finally admire how beautiful and handsome you looked sprawled out like that. All worn out and pretty. “Pretty,” he thought.
You attempted to catch your breath as you stayed frozen for a second. Eyes half-lidded, staring at the ceiling while your stream was still running. You kind of forgot that this wasn’t just some solo masturbation session, you were still in performance mode. Sitting up slightly, you slowly pulled the toy out of your cunt with a wet sound, setting it aside.
A shaky, fucked-out smile curved your lips as you crawled back to your laptop. Reading the chat made your stomach turn. Although you appreciated most compliments and people supporting you, there were others that rarely respected your boundaries at all. Threatening to either find you, or even assault you—it was the fucking worst and added more to your burn out that you were already experiencing.
As you did that, Frank cleaned himself up with a torn up rag that was sitting on one of his amps next to him. He still kept his eye on you though, watching the way your expression changed as you read the chat.
You forced a smile for the camera one last time. You looked tired, small, and worn out. “Thanks for tonight, angels. I’ll hopefully see you guys next week..” Your voice cracked on the last word, proceeding to blow a kiss at the camera so no one would suspect something was wrong. Hitting the ‘END STREAM’ button, immediate tears streamed down your face. You pressed the heels of your hands to your eyes, trying to wipe away your tears instantly, but no luck. More tears fell, and fell, and fell.
A sob ripped out from your mouth. It was quiet at first as you tried to muffle yourself against your palms. But it couldn’t stay. Your whole body shook with it. Your thoughts began to race around each crevice of your mind. Three years of this shit and it now felt pointless. You stood on unsteady legs, wiping your tears with the sleeve of your hoodie.
Fresh air. You needed air.
Slipping a pair of boxers and the large zip-up hoodie from earlier on, you opened your balcony door. A pack of Marlboro Reds in one hand, lighter in the other. You stepped out, cold feet on the bare concrete, lighting a cigarette with shaking fingers.
For now you just reminisced, daydreamed, thinking about you in another life—with a job that didn’t require for you to be naked in front of strangers just to feel wanted. You exhaled slowly, watching the ember glow brighter with each pull.
Frank stared at the blank screen for a moment after the stream ended. His heart was still hammering against his ribs like he’d just finished a set of his. Everything felt quiet—too quiet. The only sound occupying Frank’s basement was his small inhales and exhales as well as the low hum of his computer fan.
“What the fuck was that?” He asked himself in his head.
His eyes were still locked on the offline picture you had when you weren’t broadcasting. Fuck, you did something to him. That soft, tired smile you gave to the camera lingered in his mind. Not the kind of "lustful" lingering like he was going to jerk off to that image later. No, it was something totally different that he couldn’t figure out. This feeling made his heart clench.
Frank exhaled, rubbing his face with both hands. You seemed genuine. There were moments during your stream where a part of you cracked open or “accidentally” slipped out. It intrigued him in ways where he wanted to explore more. Although your body displayed passion at its finest, he noticed that behind your eyes was pure exhaustion, sadness even. God, he felt like a fucking creep thinking about you like this.
He shouldn’t care. He didn’t even know your name. He didn’t even need to know about you—too busy with the upcoming tour, rehearsals, meet and greets.
But he wanted to know.
Frank opened a new tab. His fingers hovered over the keyboard for a second, trying to figure out what to search up first in the search engine. Immediately, your cam username was being typed out. The first link was to your work Instagram. Public, easy to access. Bio read:
21, he/him // nj // cams+lives below // dm 4 privates/collabs // tips keep me going ♡
His chest stung when he read the small ‘nj’ in your bio. A Tumblr profile linked in your bio led to your cam site, collaboration form, and a discreet booking page for IRL sessions. You strictly did same-state (specifically North/Central Jersey) only for private sessions, $200/hr.
Frank’s stomach turned, close enough to his spot.
He scrolled fast. Saved a couple of screenshots on impulse in case they were important for later. He instantly moved onto PornHub, not to jack off again—just curious if any of your pornos were there as well. And fuck, of course they were.
When he pressed enter on his keyboard as he searched for your user, he was immediately brought to a library of pornos featured with you in it. Titles that read, “trans boy gets destroyed by big cock” or “cute camboy takes it rough for the first time on camera”. He’d skim through some, noticing that same worn-out facial expression from your stream during some parts of the videos. His chest tightened as he watched you. The same pretty face, same body, but your eyes were still speaking differently—clearly not enjoying any of it. Frank closed the tab, he felt this pit of guilt grow larger in his stomach.
Back to Instagram. He got curious and skimmed through your following. Not much, just a bunch of other stars/cam models you followed that he assumed you’ve collaborated or were friends/acquaintances with. It wasn’t until one profile caught his eye—one that looked like it had connections to you.
It ended up being another profile of yours. It was public, but definitely hard to find as it seemed to purposefully not have any ties to your professional Instagram account.
Your profile picture was a calico cat sitting on what seemed to be your lap. Photo taken on an apartment balcony? Frank couldn’t put a read on it.
Your bio here was different, felt more like you, more quiet and collected.
“he/him , private & personal diary”
Frank’s breath hitched. He felt like he was invading something that he wasn’t supposed to find.
Then he scrolled down to the grid of posts that consisted of rants and photo spams. The first post that caught him was the usual spam post, the caption had a totally different vibe though.
“i hate dysphoria so much i feel alienated from my own body everyday i look in the mirror and i can’t even recognize the person staring back. i’ll never be enough all i’ll be seen as for the rest of my life is a sex toy for those who choose to use me”
Frank’s throat tightened, his leg bouncing up and down out of pure hesitation.
Another post: a photo of you on your balcony smoking a cigarette with your puffy, inflamed eyes. It dated two months back with a caption that read:
“i’ve been so suicidal these past few weeks. everything is so quiet and draining. i’m sick of everything and myself i don’t know what i want or what i want to do i’m so lost. i keep telling myself ‘one more stream, one more paycheck, one more fucking collab, then i can quit.’ every stream feels like im carving another piece of myself out to sell. i’m so tired i’ve never felt depression this deeply in my bones before”
Frank sighed, staring at the words. They echoed throughout his head, echoing in a way where they were telling him that he shouldn’t even be on this page. But instead of closing the tab, he looked at one more post. Just a black screen and text that read:
“i just want someone to stay. i want to be enough and be loved without having to perform. i’m so scared i’ll never be truly loved i’m tired i just want to be taken care of and loved is that hard to ask for”
He paused and closed his eyes for a second. Frank’s heart clenched. He cared so much about the people around him, it was basic human fucking empathy, of course—but why you?
He didn’t know you. Never even met you. So why did a stranger—let alone a camboy's vent posts cut him so deeply? The guilt was overwhelming now. He couldn’t stop.
For a second he thought to himself. He wanted to at least give you something to remember. Something delicate, sweet, and loving. Something that you’d cherish and think about every once in a full moon. He opened a message request on your work Instagram.
He typed slowly:
“hey. saw your live tonight. you were incredible. i’m in nj and i’d love to meet. doesn’t have to be sexual. just to talk or.. i guess not perform for once. no pressure.”
“Fuck,” Too bold and obvious for a first message, he thought. Deleted.
“hey, i’m in nj too. would you be open to a private sometime? no pressure at all.”
He was observant towards his message, debating on if he should do this or not. But for fucks sake, he wanted to know you—wanted to know what you were like, wanted to know why you feel the way you feel.
He wanted to fulfill that hole in your heart.
The cigarette you’d just smoked still lingered in the air outside your balcony. Frank lit one of his own out of pure uneasiness—exhaled slowly, and stared at the message again.
Sent.
Frank leaned back, his heart slamming against his ribs, flicking the cigarette that sat between his pointer and middle finger.
He didn’t know if you’d reply.
He didn’t know if you’d be interested.
But something in him had hoped that you would be.