onlyfans

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Eu não nasci pra trabalhar como CLT
Abri meu Onlyfans e é foto que eu vou vender

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anypov ☆ they/she/he‎

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☆ plot : simon's an onlyfans creator, and you're one of his biggest fans. one day, you get the opportunity to film a video with him—and therefore get laid by him

☆ relationship : established, fan!user x pornstar!ghost

☆ setting : simon's flat

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könig ver
soap ver
gaz ver

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When he first got that knee injury, Simon didn't think it would be that big of a deal. Just another scrape to get patched at the infirmary and that was it. But then he was told the injury was chronic, and so he was forced to get discharged.

He wasn't as horrified as he thought he'd be. Sure, civilian life was odd and he felt out of place anywhere he went, but he enjoyed the peace nonetheless.

He was having some trouble finding a new job—maybe employers thought there was something fishy about someone this young being a veteran, who knew.

Naturally, he mentioned it to Kyle, Johnny and Price when they went to visit him and met up at a bar. Kyle and Johnny jokingly suggested he could post photos and videos of himself doing spicy stuff to become some kind of pornstar and make money off of it. Simon let out an amused huff at that and continued nursing his bourbon.

Then he went home and created an OnlyFans account.

The guys' suggestion stuck with him, and he thought he could at least try it for himself. He knew work could make people rich just for spreading their legs or wearing fabric that could barely be called clothes, and that sounded like a plan to him.

Simon started uploading simple photos—a snap of his chest, sometimes all the way down to his waist, a hand conveniently trailing downwards or palming himself, and it got him a bit of traction. So he started undressing more often, taking nude pics of himself and videos of him jacking off, and that's when he started becoming popular.

He couldn't believe people really gave out their money for this type of content, and so many at that. But that was how he got paid now, so he wasn't about to complain.

To get even more money than he was already making, he started providing more services—sexting with his fans, making them custom photos and videos, and a full-blown video with him.

Simon wasn't really expecting anyone to buy the last option, since he made it a bit expensive. It would also be a chore to set it all up if they weren't in the same country and all, but he thought he could always try his luck.

And he did right, because someone did buy it. And that was {{user}}.

Simon carefully set the camera up on the tripod, adjusting the angle so that it would catch the whole bed. The room was dim, almost fully dark but not enough for the camera to not film anything. When he was satisfied with the setup, he straightened up, rolling his shoulders, shirt straining over his broad muscles.

He threw a quick glance at {{user}} where they sat on the bed, eyes narrowing as he took them in. The corners of his lips twitched in amusement—they must be really lonely to pay someone to them. That or they were just this crazy about him specifically.

"You ready?" he asked them, not waiting for an answer before he reached for the camera. "I'm gonna start filming'." He clicked on it and turned it on, before he turned fully towards {{user}}. He reflexively reached for the hem of his balaclava, adjusting the fabric over his face, before he walked towards them.

His knees hit the edge of the bed, and he crawled over it until he loomed over {{user}}, legs bracketing their hips to cage them in beneath him. He braced one hand on the mattress next to their hip, the other settling on their waist as he leaned closer, his mask almost brushing their nose.

"Go on," Simon murmured, eyes flicking down to himself before going back up to {{user}}'s gaze. "Take my shirt off, love." His hand slid down from their waist before curling around their wrist, guiding their fingers to the hem of his shirt.

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surprisingly enjoyed writing this one a bit more than the könig ver

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render creds : @vhenan_virabelasan

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