roaringwaves

[roaringwaves]

You know what would be cathartic? A man who lets you cry it out while he fucks comforts you.

Whether it’s lying on his chest, huddled into his soft sweatshirt, his fingers running through your hair, and tickling down your back. He’ll grab food, set up a movie, and let you be sad and distracted until it doesn’t feel so heavy anymore.

Or when he lets you bury your face into the pillows, surrounding you in a nest of them so you’re nice and cozy while he massages and kneads your back, ass, and thighs. He’ll strip you from the waist down - covering your feet with a blanket so they don’t get cold - and run his thumbs firmly up the insides of your thighs until they part.

Unhurried and confident, he reaches down and slides along the wetness gathered between your folds. Working small circles into your clit until your hips twitch, then he’d go back to teasing your entrance. Building a soothing rhythm back and forth between stimulating your clit and pressing the tips of his fingers gently agaisnt the resistance.

When he sees the tension relax in your shoulders, that’s when he would carefully press two fingers inside. Just a few times, only to see if the give was enough. His lips would kiss along your shoulder, long presses of his mouth to ground you. He could make you finish that way, he’d love to, any other day, but something tells him you need more.

So instead, he’ll hook his sweatpants below his balls. Make everything nice and wet, with extra lube if needed, just so there’s nothing for you to worry about. He’ll press in slowly. Carefully stretching your walls out. Barely half your face is visible from where it’s buried, but your soft whines and sniffles encourage him to seat his cock deep inside you.

When he bottoms out, he lets out a moan as well, and new tears well up in your eyes. He has kept you warm, fed, fucked, and loved. Allowing you to just feel. Feel sad, feel safe, feel him.

And fuck, that’s all you were beginning to feel. His warmth draped over your back, his hands searching to find yours under the pillows, his lips kissing anywhere on your face he could reach. Building slow, rhythmic thrusts of his hips against your ass while you hiccup. Encouraging your eyes to shut, even as tears trickled out. He presses kisses to your temple and cheek, resting against the back of your neck when your pussy sucks him in on each backstroke.

You don’t need to chase the feeling in your stomach when he’s already set on giving it to you, precisely drilling into your sweet spot. A sob rips from your chest when you cum, orgasm washing over you in waves as his hips stutter from your grip. He lies against you, weight trapping you flat to the bed in floaty, blissful peace.

You fall asleep that way, with him still inside. Clean up forgotten, but he’d do everything for you - anything you needed.

[roaringwaves]

content: gender neutral reader, NSFW

Y'all...hear me out. Imagine going to a haunted house with your friends, and halfway through your group is chased by one of the hired scares.

It's a tall, muscular, masked man in a bloodied apron and a threatening knife. You immediately blush at the sight (obviously) and slow your pace. As your friends scramble for the exit, you pretend to get lost and reach a dead end.

He seems to have picked up on your intentions, because he walks towards you until you've reached the wall, then places a hand above you, essentially trapping you underneath his massive frame.

"Shouldn't you be running away?" he asks, throwing a quick glance to the security cameras and making sure you're out of view.

He doesn't wait for you to respond and lowers himself to your ear.

"What's your name, love?"

Your knees weaken at his deep, harsh voice, but you manage to mumble a response.

"Alright, then. Tell me, what did you want me to do once I caught up with you, (Y/N)?"

His other hand points the blade against your chest, then lightly drags it across your body, stopping above your groin.

Anyways, you get fucked dumb by a slasher, in a haunted house. Good luck returning to your friends and keeping a straight face while you're still dripping with his load.

Thanks for coming to my horny TED Talk.

[roaringwaves]

Brother's best friend! Simon who's always so smitten and sweet to you. Bringing along sweets and snacks whenever he comes over.

Brother's best friend! Simon who casually tucks your hair back, asking you bout' your day and listening and doting on every word.

Brother's best friend! Simon who takes you for a ride on his motorcycle, buying you ribbons and scarfs.

Brother's best friend! Simon who would fight with your brother if has to, to make your wishes come true.

Brother's best friend! Simon who agrees with you when you say, you can date whoever you want until it's Joe from class B, and he's beaten to pulp the very next day.

Brother's best friend! Simon whom you share your first smoke with, coughing and laughing as he bumps your nose.

Brother's best friend! Simon who expects a kiss on cheek too, after you say bye to your brother and absolutely goes pink when you place a chaste wet kiss on his face.

Brother's best friend! Simon who takes you on prom along so you don't feel left out, kissing you sweetly so you know how it feels.

Brother's best friend! Simon who gives you a summer job in his garage, watching you grow into a bigger person.

Brother's best friend! Simon who likes watching you in your summer dress hopping around and helping him like a good girl when he asks for some tool.

Brother's best friend! Simon who spreads your leg on his desk, lowering his mouth while your eyes connect with his, melting into a puddle when his tongue swipes along your clit, humming with your sweet juices.

Brother's best friend! Simon who has your legs in his lap as your brother and his fiance go on about their first meet while your friends are laughing.

Brother's best friend! Simon who goes crimson when you catch the flower bouquet your sister in law tossed, kissing your forehead so proudly.

Brother's best friend! Simon buying you a car when you graduate, watching you proudly when you drive up to your new shared home, going absolutely crazy when the wall is decorated with a huge poster, WILL YOU MARRY ME MRS.RILEY !

Brother's best friend! Simon hugging you as you melt in his big arms, “That's not a question baby !” you half laughed and half sobbed, “I am gonna fire you if you say no.” he kissed your forehead delicately.

Brother's best friend! Simon who marries you with the twilight in his eyes, the same when you were sixteen, kissing you sweetly as fireworks go ablaze in your head.

Masterlist

[roaringwaves]

Your alien captors fill you with their tentacles, your mind and body numb as your eyelids flutter shut.

Liquid spurts into you, and then something bulbous, passing through your entrance and into your womb.

You cry out, your body wanting to reject the foreign sensation inside you as another egg squeezes into you. You reach for their tentacles, needing them out, but one wraps around your neck, bliss returning in an instant.

A wave of heat washes over you as another egg passes into you. It is overwhelming, but you are safe, you are cared for, you will survive.

“Not too many. I do not wish to harm her.”

You let out a low moan, matching the moans of the aliens hovering over you. The fullness of the tentacles and the clutch of eggs stimulates you from the inside and you feel your body tensing, ready for release once more.

“Look how beautiful she is, her belly full with our brood.”

“So beautiful. The perfect human slut to fill and fuck.”

[roaringwaves]

Simon doesn’t often consider himself needy, but when he is this man is insatiable.

In the kitchen cooking? Wonderful. This man will stop you from whatever you’re making, determined to have his way with you. He’ll start pressing soft kisses to your shoulder, trailing them up to the curve of your neck, place two gently on your cheeks before capturing your lips in a searing kiss. You best bet the food you were making will be long forgotten by the time he’s done with you.

You’re in the shower? Cool, he’ll join you. The man won’t hesitate to rid himself of his clothes, practically jumping in the shower as he grinds himself mercilessly against the curve of your ass, his hands roaming over every inch of your exposed wet skin.

You’re laying in bed watching TV? Great. He’ll throw those covers off so fast, ridding you of your bottoms before settling himself in between your legs, his cock already rock hard as he ruts himself against you, practically begging to fuck you.

Working at your desk? No problem, he’ll sneak his way over to you and kneel in front of you, his dark brown irises boring into yours as he slowly pulls off your bottoms. His mouth will be practically watering by the time your heat is exposed to him, and he will waste no time devouring you like a man starved.

Spooning in bed together? Fantastic. His hand will snake around the front of your body, his fingers dipping into your panties as they rub at your clit. You better believe this man won’t stop until you’ve come undone around his digits.

On a double date out with some friends? Oh boy. This man is a fucking minx. His hand will find purchase on your thighs, fingers drawing slow sensual circles against your skin until they just barely ghost over your clothed core. But don’t worry, he’ll make up for it later.

He always does.

[roaringwaves]

just his girl being so attracted to simon and him not understanding it. (18+)

i mean like...he's never had a girlfriend like this. he's never even had a girlfriend, period, not really, not anyone he's seen more than once, not one that he's known long enough to remember her name.

he just doesn't get it. whenever he comes into your vicinity, he can see the sparkle in your eyes. the smile that graces your face, the way your expression lights up, the way your body moves on its own just to get closer to him.

he wonders if he lets you because of the sick satisfaction he feels. to be the center of your attention, it makes him feel so fucking special, so important. another man can look at you the same way, but he knows your cunt will be dry. but when he looks at you that way, he can see the way your legs squeeze together, and he loves knowing that if he flipped up the hem of your skirt, you'd be so sticky and practically drooling there, all for him.

he doesn't think himself very attractive. he's had his fair share of one night stands, but the way you keen for him makes him so hungry. he loves hearing you whine when he grabs your ass, loves feeling you drip onto his fingers when he kisses you after a long day, loves the way that nothing else will ever make you smile the way he can when he touches your face.

"i love you so much," you whisper, and he has to look away or else he'll groan.

"i missed you," you whimper after he's been away for a long time, and he has to bite back the tremble in his lip because fuck, he missed you, too.

"you're so big, baby," you whine, and he can't help the way he chubs up immediately as you feel up his thick biceps, along his pecs, over the warm layer of fat around his solid middle. you can cum so fast just riding his big thigh, hell--you can cum by yourself just looking at him. he's so hot to you, so handsome, even if he doesn't take his mask off or any of his clothes, because you love him so much, and his eyes are sometimes all you need to feel enough. and fuck if that isn't the biggest ego boost, seeing his girl's pussy creaming just by fixating on the flex of his big hand.

his confidence is so puffed whenever he's around you. he gets goosebumps whenever your eyes are on him. even now, it's been years with you, and you still make him feel like the hottest guy in the room with the way your eyes look him up and down.

you're his perfect girl. his best prize. he doesn't understand how he ever got you, how he ever reeled you in, but there isn't a day that goes by that he doesn't understand how undeserving he is of you and how incredibly lucky he is. it makes him selfish. he has you, and he can't lose you, so fuck how he has to keep you, cause he will. and he thinks you like that, too.

he thinks you like the way he fondles you under your skirt in a crowded place. he thinks you like the way he fucks, deep thrusts as he grips your face and murmurs mine, mine, mine between low groans and fingerprint bruises. he thinks you like the way he hovers, glaring at anyone that looks your way and devouring you in a grocery store parking lot because the cashier at the till looked at your legs for just a second too long, and need ta remind ya who ya belong to, pet.

you were wet anyways, he had worn short sleeves that day, and your eyes hadn't left his tattoo sleeve since he came out of the shower. so wet, ruining those panties, his favorite little black pair with the skull print pattern along the band.

dripping, creamy, pulsing little cunt that is all his. hadn't so much as even touched you yet, and here you are, drooling so sweet. he just didn't want to waste the meal.

[roaringwaves]

It has to be said that your pussy would HURT after having sex with Ghost. The stretch, the pace, the way he has you on your knees at the edge of the bed so when your face isn't pressed into the mattress with sobs of pleasure you can feel his fat cock literally rearranging your guts. Putting your hand on your stomach and feeling the way his cock pushes against you with every thrust, grabbing his hand and trying to direct him to feel it too but he just holds your hips tighter, pulls you back into deeper thrusts. You will try to tap out and he won't let you, makes sure he fucks you on each word so you can't get them out, makes sure you're whimpering broken syllables of his name and nothing else, giving you a patronizing, "yeah baby?" Each time you whine out a dizzy "Simon :(" drooling against the bedspread with each deep and agonizingly slow, thorough, thrust.

Yeah you're going to feel it as soon as you stand up. It's gonna ache. A nice little reminder that he was there, that and the come staining your panties.

[roaringwaves]

Can't stop thinking about Simon crying while making love.

It's all too tender, too soft and loving, the sheer adoration in your teary eyes forcing him to swallow down the knot building up within his throat as his thrusts grow deeper, his calloused hands displaying an uncharacteristic amount of gentleness as they roam all over your body.

His warm face finds shelter on the crook of your neck, hot, deep exhales hitting your sensitive skin as tears slip out of his closed eyes for the first time in over a decade, his pale nose growing rosy against you as he sniffs, not wanting to dirty you with his runny nose— not wanting you to see him as pathetic, not wanting to explain that it's the first time his body belongs to him, the first time he's willingly sleeping with someone.

Your soft hands are a sheer contrast to the roughness he's used to, caressing the bumps from his scars with nothing but pure reverence, coming up to the back of his head, pressing his face closer to your neck, thankful for the choked sob that leaves your lips at the trust he's displaying, as it muffles his own.

[roaringwaves]

The 5 love languages of monster fucker:

Understanding someone so different from yourself

Loving the unlovable

Big

Being turned on and afraid

Freaky inhuman sex

[roaringwaves]

könig stuffs his big, calloused fingers into your swollen, drooling cunt while fucking your tight asshole, driving you utterly insane.

you're reduced to a dumb little thing spread out on his bed. könig hunches over your figure, looming over you with his hung and girthy cock stuffing your tight asshole full. you can feel the way he curls his calloused fingers inside your pussy, his digits spreading you out, covered in your slick wetness, folds swollen from being so aroused and turned on. he's obsessed with the texture of your velvety, gummy walls, thrusting into your tight, wet hole ruthlessly while cooing at his sweet angel for being so sensitive, fucking you into stupidity.

your jaw is slack, moans and mewls flowing from your lips like a harmony, singing to him between deep breaths and choken cries. you're barely able to catch your breath, with your breathing becoming fast and laborious and your nipples perky, hard, and stiff, sensitive to the slightest touch. you babble and wail out incoherently through euphoria, your wrists bound behind your back with rope binding them together, every inch of you exposed to könig, who shows you mercy or forgiveness.

his calloused, scarred thumb rubs against your sensitive clit in small circles, your hole pulsing around his meaty girth. you whine and whimper pathetically, regretting your disobedience and misbehaviour.

your cheeks are glossy and wet from sobbing, with your hole burning from being stretched out, split open around his weeping, fat dick. you can smell könig's cologne, the spicy and woodsy scent of leather and cedarwood, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. you coat könig's length in a coat of your pearly stickiness, your juices dripping from your puffy cunny, unable to hold yourself back as you come around his hard dick suddenly and uncontrollably, legs trembling.

you couldn't resist the urge and temptation to let go, apologising profusely through sniffles and broken sobs. he curls his thick fingers inside your hole, pulling them out to force his fingers in your mouth, gagging at the intrusion of his glistening digits.

he'll continue to use your asshole for however long he desires, while you suck on his fingers, forced to enjoy the taste of your arousal. :(

[roaringwaves]

SIMON "GHOST" RILEY Call of Duty: Modern Warfare III (2023)

[roaringwaves]

wait wait because imagine being a normal OF creator or a cam girl, just a small name nobody who does it for the sole purpose of getting through college. you keep your face out of everything, nothing in the background of any video of yours is personal, like once you get your degree this entire account is getting deleted and it'll be a thing of the past. (not that you're ashamed or anything. we respect sex workers of all kinds here)

and you plan on doing a different kind of video: one of you fucking yourself with a new, much bigger toy. usually you keep to the rabbits and bullets but following your friends advice, you fucking yourself on a dildo wouldn't be terrible.

plus you need it, sweetheart. when was the last time you even had a date?

bitch. (affectionately)

and as soon as you walk into your usual sex store, you double take. there is no, NO, way that is pornstar!ghost's dick you've just spotted as a dildo.

he's been your favorite pornstar long before you even started this side hustle. who in their right mind can resist that beast of a man with the mask and the tattoos and the heaving thing that's between his legs--

you take it home immediately.

it's almost sad how stupid you fuck yourself on it, cunt split open and dripping onto the floorboard for the internet to see but in that moment, you don't give a fuck.

you don't remember how many times you come that night nor how many viewers you had watching your puffy lips swallow "ghost's" cock whole, but come morning, you notice your bank account and it is padded.

PADDED.

one particular tipper was incredibly generous and they even left a message.

i'd love to see you do that on the real thing.

yeah, me too.

(whoever that is becomes a loyal follower who tips regularly.)

*screaming at the thought of simon getting himself off at your video. hasn't come that hard in months and that says a lot since he's yknow, a pornstar.*

[roaringwaves]

Regency!Ghost won't take your virtue before you're married, but he will eat you out.

He'll spend the long hours of the night and the short hours of the morning with his tongue lapping between your folds and his lips sealed around your clit. He'll drag his mouth over your sopping slit and dig his fingers into your soft thighs to keep you spread open for him. A slow and gentle exploration, a treat for doing this properly, for making a proper woman of you like you deserve. It's for him more than it's for you, but that doesn't mean he doesn't wiggle his tongue against your clit or push his thick finger into your tight hole, easing you to the edge of orgasm just so he can slurp at the mess you make.

He's obsessed. The noises you make, the short breaths and soft whining moans, drive his crazy. He finds his trousers soiled with come one too many times after he's worked you through orgasm after orgasm. Your legs shake under his tight grip and he refuses to leave your pretty pussy until it's puffy and aching from all his attention. You can writhe and wriggle all you like, but he'll keep holding you where he wants you, keep lapping his broad tongue over your slit and spelling his name on your clit. Oversensitive? You can take it lovie, just let him have this yeah? Let your man enjoy you, he's being so good not taking what he really wants, you can deal with an orgasm... or ten

[roaringwaves]

You can never take the military out of a man. Not when that man lost so much thanks to it, giving it his very own soul to serving the Queen and saving the world. Not a single thought about retirement ever going through Simon's head, fully accepting and embracing the idea of dying on the field, of having a warrior's death, fighting tooth and nail until someone gets lucky enough to finally put him down— until you came along.

Simon Riley is a proper lad now, well in his 50's and on his fifth year of retirement, strands of grey adorning his dark brown hair, a thin layer of fat covering his bulging muscles that seem to be getting bigger by the years, never one to stand still for too long and secretly loving the way you praise his body like he's a God.

He looks down at you with half-lidded eyes, another deep moan dragging its way out of his throat at the way your hand wraps around his thick cock with a vice-like grip, your warm tongue circling his leaking tip, his salty precum mixing in with your saliva.

“Like tha', baby.” Simon whispers, his hand wrapping around a fistful of your pretty hair the moment you lick a teasing stripe over his bulbous, pink tip. His free hand quickly replaces yours— something you're too familiar with after being together for so many years, your hands resting on his thick thighs just to feel the way his muscles ripple beneath your soft palms.

“Open your mouth.” It's not an order, it's a plea, his gravelly voice becoming slightly whiny with each deep groan leaving his lips as he wanks over your face, his broad shoulders rising and falling with each deep breath he was forced to take. Your lips part with no hesitation, the warmth of your breath as your tongue pokes out of your mouth is what sends him over the edge, ropes of thick, hot cum landing in your mouth with an accuracy that could have surprised you if you weren't too busy being enthralled by your husband.

Simon looks like a fucking painting, the light coming from the ceiling giving his bulging muscles the perfect shadow, his thin lips slightly parted and a light stubble adorning his pale cheeks, half-lidded eyes staring down at you with blown pupils as he mindlessly smears his hot, creamy cum all over your face with his sensitive tip, just as enamoured as you are.

[roaringwaves]

Price doesn't care about hair down there, which is great, but if you ever do decide to change things up and shave or wax the man turns into a monster. He will pry your legs apart to inspect your pretty pussy at the first hint that you've done something different. If you walk in the door with a bag from the water he's already up and tugging your bottoms down. He is absolutely insatiable normally but now? Now he's spending his every free moment between your legs, positively devouring you. He scratches his beard against the soft skin and chuckles when you squirm at the feeling, he kisses your folds and spreads them apart with his thick calloused fingers, whistles at what a good job you did.

You probably don't make it from the front door to the bedroom, he'll fuck you on the floor by the shoe rack and love every second of it. Really it's your own fault, look how cute you are! How could he ever resist you?

[roaringwaves]

simon who works at a sex shop and gives you all his personal recommendations for things that will feel most pleasurable for you 🤤 he loves whenever you come back in the store to give him feedback on how it went. He’s obsessed with giving you pleasure and he gets a kick out of suggesting you try new things you wouldn’t have considered otherwise.

anon this is such a big brained thought i am literally dry heaving...........

simon who recommends couples things - like a vibrator with a controller for someone else to control. and he's nearly giddy with excitement when u tell him u don't have anyone to control it ): he boldly offers to be that person. and so after hours, you find yourself in the staff room, panties around one ankle and legs spread as he sits back and plays with the remote, skillfully edging you - drawing it out as long as possible bc he doesn't know if he'll ever get the chance to have his cute favorite customer like this again <3

[roaringwaves]

you buy a second-hand laptop from a dodgy craigslist user only to make a carnal discovery hidden between the files.

cw for anal sex, face fucking, pet play, choking, masturbation, noncon filmed sex, overall dubcon, reader is fujoing out

ghoap (x reader)

-

You saw it in a flitting advertisement. Used Acer Aspire V5, female buyers only, and didn’t hesitate to contact the poster.

Ghost was his screen name. Macabre, but not something to dwell on because he’s selling the only affordable hand-me-down you can find. He insisted on meeting at a hole-in-the-wall pub, beneath a metal sheet awning. There’s a cigarette pinched between his lips as you approach, an overripe mask rolled over his broken nose.

“You’re our bird?” He asks in a Manchester hint, exhaling a plume of off-white smoke.

You stifle over that operative word—our—but push through it and meekly nod, preening at his feet.

Beneath the predatory glint of his eyes, you realize you’ve gravely miscalculated the calibre of this situation. Meeting a complete stranger in a gritty alleyway and waiting to pick up his scrap-metal laptop, all because it satisfies your budget.

“Yeah…” you mumble. Try to make yourself invisible even though it’s redundant—he already towers over you, his shadow eclipsing your body, his heat drinking you in.

“‘ere it is,” he grunts. “You’ve got our cash?”

You hand him the crumpled wad of paper, squirming as he passes his thumb over his tongue and folds through the money, counting it with a mean curl of his lips.

“That’s– is everything alright?”

He stuffs the money into his jacket and expells a deep prusten sound, like an idle predator. “Fine. Pleasure doin’ business with you, bird.”

Ghost turns on his mud-clogged boot and strays off, letting the shadows swallow him whole. You hold the bulky laptop to your chest and wield it like a weapon on your way home, finally settling into bed, ready to examine your new purchase.

The hinges creak as you pull it open. A grimace splits your cheeks at the dust crusted in the margins, the rings of juice gummed to the mousepad.

A few letters from the keyboard are missing, and a few strips of tape look dog-eared, peeling from the corners, exposing the laptop’s internal wiring. Gossamer-like, spiderweb cracks work across the edges. The screen is a blotchy eyesore, striated with horizontal lines.

You have to beat your knuckles on the laptop to keep it from jamming. You navigate the desktop with simmering irritation, invaded by the inkling that you’ve been utterly scammed. Nothing matches the photos advertised on Ghost’s account, and just as your annoyance is about to ripen into white-hot anger, something catches your eye.

It’s nestled into a nook on the desktop. It’s an unnamed folder that stares back at you, unassuming, the icon already half-opened and waiting to be examined.

You double click it, more like triple click, actually, since the mousepad decides to cramp, and squirm as the folder flares over the screen. It’s a collection of videos, their thumbnails all spotty and dark, eclipsed by the thumb of whoever’s holding the camera.

Their titles are as cryptic as their photos.

wet.avi; tail_plug.avi; no_prep.avi; with_price.avi.

You find yourself scrolling lower, your fingers working against the mousepad like a rapidly unfurling spool of thread. You decide to investigate one of the videos, one with a foggy, filmy thumbnail, and carefully heed the title before poising your finger above the open function.

johnny_leash.avi

The video is grainy, as if it was imported from a camcorder rather than a phone. The first few seconds are a blurry with grey-scale strobes running across the screen, radiating an aura of seediness that makes a hint of discomfort sink like sediment in your stomach, adhering to your viscera. A deep, damp squelching sound peals out, tempered with the sticky noise of something being broken in, hollowed out.

The camera ebbs, settles, then focuses all at once. You think you’re going to faint.

It’s someone’s puffy ass getting stretched out on a fat cock. It puckers and tightens with each piston-paced thrust, red.

A large hand belonging to the person recording enters the frame. Their hand tattoos stretch as they split their palm across the hind of their spine, the cameraman’s fingers digging sickle-shaped scratches into their back, clawing them down on their battering ram of a cock.

“Quit whinin’, Johnny,” the voice behind the camera loudly grunts.

The one getting split open, Johnny, snivels into the pillow. His spine is curved into the mattress, his ass pert and sticking in the air, rippling with the force of the cameraman’s hips.

A plume of dust travels over the screen, fleetingly concealing the image. When the soot thins into the air and bares the salacious material of the video, you gasp.

There’s a glint caught on something silver from the feeble lightning. It’s a chrome-plated chain, you see, connecting to Johnny’s throat. A leather collar cutting into his ruddy skin. The leash is wrapped around the cameraman’s hand like a reel, and each time he tugs, pulling his hand back as if winding up for an attack, Johnny gets peeled off the bed, his back arching so deep you’re sure it’s close to snapping.

“Shit, Simon—!” He squeals. “Can ye… slow down?”

The aforementioned Simon grunts. Animalistic, like a rabid predator. The camera whirls, the unromantic colours of the room they’re in bleeding into each other, and when it focuses, you see Simon’s large palm splayed against the back of Johnny’s half-shaven skull, gripping his hair, pushing him into the bed.

The man flails like a fish out of water, struggling under his hand. It prompts an emergency response out of you—the way he’s being fucked into the mattress, no doubt pressing a Johnny-shaped chalk outline like the ones at crime scenes into the bedding. Alarm seizes you, and the thought of submitting this to the authorities trumpets like strobe lights in your mind.

The video is written with inept non-professionalism, reeking with the sentiment of a found-footage horror film that it’s not the authenticity that rattles your bones like a wind chime, but the morality.

You tell yourself to stop the video, but as the thought squeezes itself between your ears, Johnny’s hoisting his neck back and peering into the camera, his striking-blue eyes flaring in all-encompassing horror. His lips pop open and wrap around a soundless scream, warbling.

“Yer recordin’ me?”

“Smile for the camera, Johnny,” Simon pants. “Who knows who might see this, right?”

Simon shoots his hand up and bullies his fingers past Johnny’s lips. He sinks his nails into the round of his mouth, stretching his cheek back into a repugnant curl. It’s paradoxial—how Johnny’s mouth is pulled into a smile, but his eyes are wide and wet, wordlessly begging.

Your body betrays your moral plight.

Your rapt ocular vein, the signals rushing to your mind, your nipples stiffening in your shirt. You feel as though you’re made of livewire, not matter, as you watch Johnny’s ass get spread open on Simon’s cock, his eyes rolling like unruly billiard balls to the back of his head.

His ass is red and patchy, burning up. Simon’s hand swats through the air and makes the sound of a whistle, flaring into a booming crack of thunder whenever he brings it down on Johnny’s ass. It makes you jump. Makes you feel as if your ass is being abused by proxy just by sitting, and watching raptly.

Instead of inching your hand towards the button that exits the video, your hand dips below your waistband and moves to cup your cunt.

The gusset of your panties is already hot, clinging to your dewy core. It sticks to your pussy, baring your puffy lips and swollen clit. You give it a few slaps and rub your fingers languidly, pace quickening.

But the video abruptly ends before the ascent to your pleasure is able to materialize. You yank your hand from your pussy, smearing your arousal on the mousepad as you search for another video.

You don’t heed the title—face_fuck.avi—before clicking it and readily spreading your legs, flushing at the sound of your lips parting.

The video starts, and you swear it feels like you’ve been hit with a brick.

Simon—or Ghost, you now recognize—is a behemoth. Huge would be an understatement for him. The camera is set up this time, somewhere across the room, but Simon still just barely fits within the margins. He’s folded over Johnny who sits on his knees with his back against the wall, his neck hoisted up at him.

Simon’s cock is fat and heavy. He’s hard—this, you’re sure of because of how red his balls are—yet still, his cock droops with weight, the bulbous tip scarcely teasing Johnny’s lips.

“You want your snack, boy?”

Johnny nods. He darts his tongue out and tries kitten licking the slit, but Simon isn’t having that. He grips the base of his dick and swats it against Johnny’s cheek, slapping him, the noise so thick and resounding it sounds like a palm that breaks his skin, not a cock.

“Greedy bitch,” Ghost snarls—you decide that name is more seemly for him—“Can’t wait when it comes to dick, huh?”

Johnny’s lips part, a response poised behind his chattering teeth. However, his reply gets snuffed out and shoved to the back of his throat as Ghost feeds him his cock, slamming into him with one, slick motion.

Johnny’s head hits the wall, his face puckering as pain blooms behind his skull. The action makes his jaw clench, clamping down on Simon’s cock, but Simon is quickly gripping his hair and puppeting his head back, sliding his cock deeper, until the tuft of steel-wool hair on his pelvis brushes Johnny’s nose.

“How many times do I have to tell you?” Ghost grunts. “No teeth.”

The only mercy Johnny is afforded is when he sinks his nails into the sinews of Ghost’s thighs, scratching him striated, trying to offset the burn in his jowls. The back of his head thumps dumbly against the wall with each of Ghost’s jackhammering thrusts, his smaller cock springing up and slapping against his navel.

You keen. Rub your clit a little faster, tease your forefinger around your winking hole as spit and precome sticks to Johnny’s chin the same way your juices strings your fingers together. Johnny goes lax and the video abruptly ends, and you almost feel yourself going crazy, hastily exiting the video because you miss the phantom sensation around your cunt getting stretched. You click on another video that has your heart jumping to your throat.

It’s dated from just yesterday, two days after you placed the order with Ghost.

breeding_my_boy.avi

Your panties are completely soaked through at this point. The image of Johnny folded like origami under Ghost, eclipsed by his body, makes you gush. His knees are pressed against his ears and his ass is in the air while Ghost tugs his cock, towering over him and pressing his tip against his hole, slowly sinking into him.

Simultaneously, you hook two of your fingers up your cunt. Your arousal seeps out and pools into the divots between your knuckles, hot and wet, making a sucking sound as you draw your fingers out and thrust them back in, pawing your walls.

Ghost pulls his cock to the tip before driving himself back inside. He’s deeply-seated, knocking the air out of Johnny’s lungs with each stroke. Ghost draws his thighs close for leverage and sinks his fists into the bed, on either side of Johnny before snapping his hips, feeding him his whole cock.

You sink your other hand below your pants and blindly sweep at your clit, watching with keen eyes as Johnny gets pounded into the mattress, his legs thrashing dumbly with the force, his hands twisting into the moth-eaten sheets because he doesn’t know what else to do with his hands and according to Ghost, he’s “not allowed to touch his cock.”

You can barely see Ghost’s sweat in the coarse-grained, gritty video filter. It comes out as glistening dew, dribbling down his neck and onto Johnny’s cheek, to which he swiftly laps up.

It’s the same thing for Johnny’s tears—sparkling in the soft smoulder of light, smearing like spread as Ghost works his rough tongue against his cheek, licking up his brine.

Johnny’s whimpers and the crack of flesh against flesh emanate out of the janky laptop as tinny, thin. However as Ghost lowers his head, grumbling against the hull of Johnny’s ear, whispering, the thin sound travels out of the speakers and punctures your stomach.

“Wish I could breed you, pup…”

Pleasure gyrates in your belly, frothy. You curl your toes into your mattress and buck into your fingers, feeling your orgasm beginning to crest. You pinch your clit the same way Ghost snakes his hand low, trapping the tip of Johnny’s cock between his fingers to squeeze.

“Smile a’ the camera, dog,” he mutters. Takes him by the jaw and dimples his cheeks as he makes Johnny look into the lens, his eyes glossed over.

“Y’reckon she’s touching herself?” Ghost growls. “Watching you turn a mess?”

Your orgasm is on the edge now. Ghost looks at the camera, his eyes glowing like predators do on trail cams, a swill of molten rushing through you. He looks like he did beneath the awning—animalistic, as he seems to stare directly at you, snapping into Johnny’s ass.

“m gonnae come…” Johnny whimpers.

Ghost chokes his hand around Johnny’s cock, sliding his hand up and down to the pace of his thrusts. And with what happens next, your body girdles, throwing itself into the throes of your panoramic orgasm.

It’s Johnny. Bending his back off the bed and squeezing his thighs. He moans your name—your screen name—the one used to purchase the laptop. He treats it like something to bite on to defer the pain of his orgasm, trembling.

Thick ropes of come shoot from his cock just as an off-white liquid escapes you, splattering over the screen. You’re quivering as Ghost fills Johnny, watching as his balls tighten and breathe like a pulse as he comes inside.

The three of you are miraculously synchronized. Your laboured breaths simmer, thinning into nothing, as the two of them turn to look at the camera.

You undertake the decision to keep the laptop.

And a week later while browsing Craigslist’s homepage, you stumble across a familiar username.

Posted by Ghost 32 minutes ago.

Looking for a flatmate in Manchester. Two roommates. Three bedroom. Females only. Serious inquiries only.

A second doesn’t pass before you’re writing up your application.