#you can make bird noises!

[im-going-to-eat-your-family]

Hey aviankin!

There's a Roblox game called "skyven" and it's a bird simulation game.

There are sparrows, hoopoes, cardinals, robins, blue jays, magpies, crows, bald eagles, and secretary birds.

There's peaceful music and beautiful gameplay and it makes me feel euphoric personally.

[hawnks]

keigo pulling you against his chest and making soft little cooing noises when you need soothing

[wander-wren]

sighs. thinking about bare again…..

[creaturefeaster]

What is it like to raise birds? I really like birds and I would like to have as many as you but I have no idea if it is how I imagine it, even so, if I had some I would love them! I'm sorry if there are spelling mistakes.

Owning and raising birds is a real treat. They are easy to understand if you're committed to learning, and are a really fun and healthy source of entertainment. Most of my childhood was me being a bedridden hermit, and getting chickens was the first and most vital step in getting me outdoors and moving more. It's amazing how much flock animals can change your life for the better.

Chickens are funny, easy to keep happy, and if you handle them right, extremely loving in their own way that makes it exciting to go out each day and see how they're doing.

Raising them from chicks yourself is the best way to ensure they'll be friendly and loving when they're older. It can be sort of scary when you have your first chicks, it's easy to think they're more fragile than they are, or that you're upsetting them, but baby birds just like to whine. Some more than others, but either way you learn pretty quickly that being consistent and easy-going with your attention is what birds tend to like.

Working with a calm hand and persistence, you will be rewarded with a fun hobby that comes with many benefits. Chickens are best for eggs and compost, getting rid of food scraps and old (but never moldy!) food turns into fresh eggs to eat and poop for fertilizing the land. Geese are great for maintaining wild plant growth, keeping grass low cut and invasive weeds at bay, and also produce a lot of feather fluff if you have use for goose feathers. Their eggs are also massive, though not as good for frying as chicken eggs. Ducks are great at keeping garden pests at bay, and can be super amusing as they're surprisingly fast paced and emotive animals.

They are very messy, though. Maybe not as much with chickens-- as long as they have a dry space they keep themselves pretty clean as long as you change their bedding when they need it. Ducks and geese however, which are waterfowl, can be much much messier. Ducks especially. They need a lot of water to be happy, and get it everywhere. This in combination with their poop leads to quickly dirtied water and muddy enclosures if you don't keep up with the cleaning. Every day I get messy and wet for their sake. I don't mind it, but it can be harder to manage in colder and wetter months.

It can be a bit of a hump to get past the grosser parts of poultry care, but once you get past that, and you have a routine, I think it's still a relatively easy thing to maintain, and is worth it for all the pleasantries the birds bring in turn.

Chickens do well with less space than a lot of other poultry, their comfortable square foot per individual radius is rather small, given they have room to run and can all get along. It is simple and easy to raise chickens in a suburban backyard. I am not sure if it works similarly for other countries, but look up your town ordiances for poultry livestock allowances, if in the USA. More towns allow backyard hens than you'd expect, depending on the square footage of your property.

Geese and ducks need much more space, they are roamers and need large spaces to walk, stretch their wings, and explore to stay happy lest they grow bored and agitated. Unless you live in rural neighborhoods, it is unlikely you can own waterfowl. And roosters; Many suburban towns that allow hens do not allow roosters, because they are noisy.

Quails are also another choice, if chickens are too intimidating or difficult to procure in your area. Many quails can live quiety and happily in an enclosure even inside, so long as they have proper enrichment. They can be a good and cute stepping stone to bigger birds like chickens or ducks.

Turkeys and guinea fowl are interesting in their own way as well. I don't have as much experience with turkeys, they're larger and sassier but they generally work well with chickens. Plus they make funny noises and are amusing to look at. Guinea fowls, kind of like geese, are really good watch dogs if you live in a place with hawks, eagles, or small predators. They are very loud and vocal, and can be somewhat assertive and protective of their flock. They're also really stupid looking.

But anyways, back to what it's like to have birds in general... If you're birdbrained you will feel at home when you are amongst your flock. If you aren't birdbrained, enough time around them will make you so. It will be a peaceful experience and the work put into them is always rewarding. Being able to sit with chickens, letting them jump up to you and eat from your hand, or petting and hugging a duck, or having a gaggle of geese follow you through a field in a slow line... it's like having a fun and obtainable experience to look forward to every day. :3

Oh, I was going to end it there but I actually have one more thing to add. This part of poultry care is the part people don't always like to hear/realise, but the biggest thing with poultry is: Do not raise what you are not willing to kill. Regardless of whether you raise birds like chickens for meat, eggs, or just as pets, you must accept that fact that at some point, you may need to humanely cull one. Unwanted males do not sell/rehome easily, and can become an issue to take care of if you aren't ready to cull. Sick hens do not always make it, and sometimes you have to decide to spare them the pain and put them down. Vets can sometimes help with this, but most of the time that requires an exotics expert, and can cost you much more than it's worth. Being able to cull your birds is also useful life experience and teaches proper animal respect.

Just, keep that in mind if you ever look into owning birds. You need to be strong for their sake, you are the one they depend on the most.

[spursthatjinglejanglejingle]

hi just read one of your tags and learned u are in an accelerated precalc class. ohgod that sounds so evil. praying for u 🙏

I just noticed this was in my inbox oops THANK YOU!!! 🫶 I actually really like math though and my professor rules so I'm having a good time, I realized I was going to be alright after she opened the first day of class with introductions and talked about how her hobby is rescuing animals from shelters that nobody else will adopt.

[cashewally-sarcastic]

Ventus, who has spent days on the streets of Old Mondstadt listening to the voices of the people. Who has silently watched as parents take care of their young. Watch kids escort their aunts to the stores. The wind around him is so cold

He plays his lyre. Its the only thing he has on him. He would rather die than say where he acquired it, and at the end of the day its his lyre.

Ventus closes his eyes. For the breifedt moment he couldn't hear the deafening gales around him. He is in the eye of the hurricane. What song is he even playing? He switched from one track to the other minutes ago and was now improvising a solo.

The families are still talking to each other.

At the end of the day, he is just background music

.

Then one day a creature bumps into him. Radiating the same warmth as a prayer and eyes akin to his god's. Was it a spy? Was it a child? Was it a puppet?

Wearily, he asks for a name. Smiling as he tells the sprite how he wishes to make ballads of the little thing. It flutters around him, occassionally stumbling in mid air like its drunk. It gives out a little squeak as it gestures to itself.

Ventus tries to mimic that chime, but his mouth can't hit the same notes. The sprite speaks more and more, yet Vrntus can't understand a thing. He just smiles and nods as he subconsciously plays his lyre.

Before he knows it, he can feel the chill of night. Or at least what he thinks it night. The elders of the city tell what night is supposed to be, but the winds had carried away those voices a long time ago.

Tales of an object called the moon. How it would shift as the weeks go by. How it could disappear and be reborn once anew- surrounded by her starry sisters.

Night.

He hated it.

He hates how cold it is. How dark it is. How every candle and life is snuffed by the wind.

Yet the creature is still hear, making a nest on his lap.

Its warm.

Letting go of his lyre for just a breif moment, he runs his fingers down the cloak of the sprite. Soft yet smooth. Was this what a bird felt like?

Tomorrow would be another day. Tomorrow he could try to pronounce his ... freind's name better. Tomorrow he could do so much.

Despite the being being on his lap, he felt a warmth in his chest. Something he has never felt before. Something that made him think of protecting this creature.

Ventus rests his eyes as he carries his first friend, unware he would do this everynight til the day he died

*cheers and applause amid tears and sobs*

MAN that was NOT was I was thinking about sad wise but FUCK that hurts

[bitchdafuqyousay]

hey what if you followed me into the woods what if you followed the uncanny call of your name from my throat lol what if you let me lure you to the center-most n darkest part of the old woods haha jk jk.... unless...

[wild-at-mind]

Any time a bird is in captivity of any kind without fail there’s someone who shows up and goes ‘:( so sad, it should be FREE!’ Which, I’m very aware of the problems with cagebirds, but someone does this every time including when the bird in question is very clearly a genetic freak of some sort. For example, a rescue aviary near me used to have a lovely fantail dove, who according to volunteers was extremely friendly and loved cuddles and sitting on people’s heads. She’s passed away now, sadly, but on the aviary facebook there’s an old video of her and someone has put one of those comments along the lines of she should be in the wild. But she was so visibly a product of human selective breeding it was unreal. She had a huge, bulgy chest and her neck was bent so far back that the resting position of her head was on her back. If her eyes weren’t on the sides of her head she wouldn’t have been able to see over her own chest. Not all fantail doves look like this, but this one was so extreme looking that they had a little sign on the aviary reassuring people she was alright. I just wondered where exactly this commenter imagined she would belong if all the birds in the aviary were released into the wild and somehow back into their ideal habitats. There’s nowhere in the world outside of in the care of humans where a bird looking like that would be remotely ok.

[reserwrekt]

Here's another one: I will not compromise over respect for who I am

[philophobic-paracosm]

i finally drew the dearest lad, Vulture

he's Ripley's curse, he's a weird bearded vulture type thing

this isn't his physical form, that depends on his host (in this case, Ripley); it's more the form he takes in his host's mind

he can also appear as a hallucination to his host, and they'd see this, but as if they were seeing a ghost or something (semi-transparent)

when he appears as a hallucination he's, like, the size of a large dog, but in his host's mind, it depends on things like emotion and such

he is the goodest of boys and deserves your love

[iamthetruenhaz]

I mean the starling is already pretty amazing to human eyes with all that iridescent plumage

[skyheld]

i'm just going to pretend ameridan and g.ale got together after the game

[bananafofana-split-lady]

And if you wanna go outside and listen to your music loudly with a bunch of other people around, there is a wonderful invention called headphones!

[readwritealldayallnight]

When Gaz walks into the bases common room, his goal for making his third cup of tea of the day is diverted when he catches sight of Soap’s expression across the room.

The Scot looks absolutely befuddled, eyes wide and sitting slack-jawed across from his Lieutenant. Gaz walks over to the men, catching the very end of Ghost telling his companion to ‘piss off’.

“Alright?” He asks the lads, raising a brow in question.

“Ye oughta hear the shite LT’s tryin’ to convince me of over here!” Soap is all too eager to inform his friend. Ghost grunts, leaning further back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and rolling his eyes as far back as he can, as if to tell the Sergeant in front of him ‘this is why I don’t tell you anything’.

Because that’s almost exactly what Ghost is thinking at that moment. He’d just entered the common room when he’d spotted the back of an all too familiar head, fiddling and distracted with the microwave.

When he’d walked up behind the younger man and echoed his call sign out in greeting, his mask hid the smug smirk that appeared at the jump Soap gave, uttering a loud “Shit!” in surprise.

Soap went on to complain about how he was apparently attempting to jumpstart his heart, drawling on about how the Lieutenant was always sneaking up on people like this, moving quiet as a Ghost.

“My missus says the same thing.” The masked man had mentioned casually, as if his chest hadn’t automatically puffed out in pride, standing up a little straighter at the mention of his girl.

“She says you’re too quiet? Aye, LT, think a lot o’ couples have complaints of the sorts in bed ya see-”

“Shut it, you prick.” Ghost quickly shut him down, ending that line of thought. “She says I walk too quietly in the flat. Accidentally scaring her all the time, poor thing.”

At that, Soap’s eyebrows had shot sky high, keen to hear more about the big bad Ghost’s life of apparent domestic bliss, turning him into an absolute sap.

Ghost wouldn’t normally volunteer information about his personal life. But he just loves you so much. And now that he’s not only thinking about you because he is all the time, but also talking about you, his mouth didn’t seem to want to stop talking about you.

“She put her foot down with me recently.” He’d added with a deep chuckle.

“She did what?” Soap had asked bewildered.

“She called it ‘putting her foot down’. I walked up behind her when she was doin’ dishes. Poor bird didn’t hear me and dropped somethin’.”

“Oh, no! Simon! That’s my favourite mug!!” You’d cried out, watching your most treasured ceramic shattering on the tile floor of the kitchen, spreading every which way across the room.

“M’sorry lovie. Didn’t mean to scare ya.” He’d sheepishly responded, reaching to turn off the running faucet. He’d grabbed the dish towel and gave it to you to dry your hands, lifted you by the waist and set you on the counter with ease, not wanting you to get hurt with your bare feet. He’d turned, already in search of a broom and dust pan.

“Again. You mean I’m sorry for scaring you again.” You had corrected him, narrowing your eyes. “I can’t take it anymore Simon. You don’t need to be stealthy at home, my love, you can make noise when you walk. In fact I need you to make noise when you walk at home!”

Simon had nodded along, diligently sweeping up every piece of your ruined mug.

“I’ll try harder sweetheart. I promise.” He’d offered, dumping the remnants into the bin before he’d walked up to you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist as yours slid around his shoulders.

The very next weekend he’d taken you to a local pottery painting class to make up for the lost mug, as well as you telling him off (because yeah, that was what Simon considered you putting your foot down with him, and he never wanted it to happen again if he could help it).

Ghost finds himself grinning further under his mask at the memory however, of how cute you looked as you tried to raise your voice at him, laying down the law in your shared home.

“And so what’d ya tell her?” Soap asked, curious to know how his Lieutenant had reacted, but more so if the man would even reply or rather would tell him to fuck off.

“I didn’t tell her anythin’.” Simon had uttered. “Did as my missus asked me to do, and that was the end of the story. Well, s’pose I did I tell her I’d look into mug making classes or whatever.”

“…”

“You what?!”

[nighttimealone]

Cw: Nsfw (141 x fem!reader, live together)

Beside you, Kyle is the first to wake up in the morning. He’ll pad towards the kitchen, enjoying the sight of you making your morning drink silently, before moving to stand right behind you, arms wrapped around your waist as he grinds he bulge lazily against your ass. He just wants to feel your warmth, how nice your soft flesh press against his cock.

“Just want to feel you, baby. It’s so cold out here.” He’ll unabashedly slip his hands under your pajamas shirt, kneading your breasts and tugging at those sensitive buds, forcing you to stop brewing your drink because you might spill the liquid.

Kyle just want to get an orgasm from you, a gift for you two morning birds, he claims before succumbing to sleepiness and tuck himself back under the duvet, fully content with being the first man making you come undone everyday, and sleeps in 5 more minutes.

You know Johnny will drag you into the shower with him whenever he comes back from his morning jog. You chide him before he engulfs you in his embrace, lightheartedly calling him a stinky man and shush him to go shower first.

So his solution is hug you despite your protest, then pull you inside the bathroom together, stripping off your pajamas and his sports wear impatiently before jumping into the shower with you.

“We’re both stinky now, jus’ thought ye might need a shower too.” Johnny grins when you glare at him, shamelessly pretends he’s just ‘looking out for ye’ while his hands traveling across your body, groping and preparing you for his cock with his hard dick prodding at the small of your back. He’ll never hurt you, but as soon as you’re wet enough for his girthy shaft, he’ll pick you up, stretching you deeply and completely with the help of your weight, groans and growls at how good you are, how your precious pussy takes him so good, ignoring Ghost’s noise complaint coming from the other side of the bathroom door as he fucks you fast and feral, making you unable to care about suppressing your moans and cling onto him, let him keep scooping you in his arms and thrust into you till he empty his balls in your good little cunt.

Finally getting Kyle and Johnny pass out from the alcohol, John and Simon manhandle them back to the bedroom before entering the living room again. 00:13, a glance at the clock telling you it’s late in the night, but it’s just the start for the three of you. Retrieving a bottle of fine rum, John seats you between him and Simon, thighs touching with theirs as you all sip on the wine and chat quietly. “The boys will chug the rum like it’s some cheap beer, they can settle with those just fine.” John chuckles lowly and comments on the awful taste and drinking habit of Kyle and Johnny.

“Those bonkers will stick to your side the whole day and complain if they find out, old man.” Simon chimes in after huffing out a laugh at John’s words.

You snicker along with them, feeling fully content and relaxed with squished between two of your lovers, joking about the other two men you loved while the rum flows smoothly down your throat. Soon your composure slips after few nips of the wine, whining cute and groggily as Simon ravish in the kiss with you, tongues dance and tangle with each other in a slow pace, let him drink down all your syrupy moans and coos in rare gentleness, so John can slickens up your pussy with his lips and your juices, making sure you can accommodate their fat cocks later, and you can’t expect or plead him to sink his cock into you already until him and Simon can see your juices dripping down your soaked folds, praying them to fill you up.

The two men will treat you so well, worshipping their dearest girl in the world. Simon’s fingers and lips are always on you when John squeeze his fat tip into your entrance, gliding in and out slowly and heavily, so all those spongy spots of yours that can make you chant his name like a mantra aren’t missed out. When he put a load in you with a husky groan, passing you onto Simon’s lap and let you lean back on his chest, he’ll plant tiny kisses on your shoulder, murmur about how they love you—will protect you and keep you safe and sound—against your skin. Simon allows him to indulge in the heat and tightness of your pussy, grunting and praising you as he fuck John’s cum back inside you, making sure you take each drops of John’s seeds, like the reliable lieutenant he always is for his captain. The base of his length has formed a creamy froth the time he nips down slightly on your shoulder to muffle his moan, drenching your messy cunt with every bit of his release. “Atta girl.” His croon is added with John’s soothing voice “Yeah, been so good for us, princess.”

They both pick up the glass once again to finish the remaining rum, with you already drifting between your slumber and consciousness, listening to their small chatters as your own lullaby. You don’t know when they’ll finish drinking, or if one of them will nestle their cock inside your pussy again, just to feel your walls clenching down subconsciously, but you let yourself slip into a dream, because they’ll take good care of you, always do and always will.

[alnilaem]

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.