Look, pal, when I say "fanfiction does not have the cultural reach to be able to change social perceptions of controversial topics"
what I mean is "if Game of Thrones could not manage to normalize incest, a handful of shipcest fics on AO3 with 50 kudos each sure aren't going to manage to normalize it!"
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a dark!a/b/o universe where omegas are kept mostly in breeding/selling facilities for alphas.
they don’t even see the light of day — every omega is kept underground.
so how does one get bought, you say?
candles.
goddamn candles.
each facility will get the scent of their omegas to make candles as a ‘selling point’ for each one, in order to keep them as ‘pure’ as possible. the only time these omegas interact with an alpha is when they’ve finally been bought.
a cruel design to send them into heat as soon as they come within the scent field of the alpha who’s just bought them.
so, of course, ghost goes down to these facilities quite frequently to scent the candles, waiting until he finds one that makes his eyes roll back. the workers always know what he’s there for, and point him to the new batches.
new omegas.
it’s been happening for months now, so he was expecting just another trip of subpar scents before going home—
until he smells your scent.
he freezes, reading the description on the candle, before thrusting it into the worker’s hand.
“get ‘em,” he grunts, pawing at his mask that now felt incredibly suffocating and hot on his face and neck.
poor you has no idea what you’re in for.
and yes, simon absolutely lights the candle while he’s pounding into you every which way, both of you deep into your respective ruts/heats🙂↕️
AN: i feel like ghost is one of those alphas who’s so obsessed w you he gets a rash if he’s not in you. send tweet
synopsis: You're way too trusting for your own good. Garrett realizes quickly that he has to step in to make sure you're not taken advantage of. And if he ends up getting you in the process, well, that's just a bonus.
It kind of just happened, given how impossible it was for him to take his eyes off you.
He didn't recognize you as one of Briar U's infamous puck bunnies, mainly because there wasn't a group of sophomore hockey players surrounding you. You stood near the fridge in the hockey house kitchen, nursing a red Solo cup, a cute pink purse tucked under your arm and held close to your side. The way your wide eyes wandered around the room gave him the impression that you were a little out of your depth.
If he were anything like Dean, he would've approached you already and figured out your deal.
Why did you smile politely when partygoers pushed past you?
He watched as a dude fully grabbed your hip. Your body jolted at his touch, and he could read your lips as the word sorry left them.
Sorry.
To the guy who'd touched you.
Your eyes lit up when a tall redheaded girl in an impossibly short black dress approached you. She stood in stark contrast to your mom jeans and light pink tube top.
Your friend, Garrett assumed.
She leaned down to whisper something into your ear. Your face fell for only a moment before you nodded.
He was almost sure your response was:
"Okay, that's fine."
He understood your disappointment moments later when Dean made his appearance, shirtless and drunk off his ass. He swept up your redheaded friend and started carrying her toward the back hallway.
Garrett had no excuse for not approaching you now.
If you were waiting for your friend to finish hooking up with Dean, you'd be waiting a long while.
Garrett took a swig from the one beer he was allowing himself on a night before a game.
Unfortunately, someone else had the same idea.
He recognized the guy immediately. Tall. Lanky. One of Beau's fraternity brothers. A senior on the swim team.
Mark.
Or Mateo.
Probably not Michael.
Whatever his name was, he wanted to fuck you.
Curious, Garrett decided to keep his distance. He watched from across the room as he approached the speaker blasting '80s rock music. He grabbed Logan's phone from the table and changed the song, all while keeping one eye on you.
It was almost offensive how forward the guy was being.
He had a hand on your shoulder, and he was standing so close that you were forced to tilt your head back to look at him.
"Yeah... we talked upstairs. Remember?"
You politely shook your head.
"I don't think it was me."
Your voice was sweet.
Garrett could tell that much.
Wanting to hear more of the conversation, he lowered the volume of the music.
"I know I'm so fucking drunk right now, but we ran into each other outside the bathroom. I remember. You're so hot I know I'd remember you. You don't want to kiss me again?"
He grabbed your hand.
"Uhm, no, thank you. B-but... I really don't... uhm—"
The guy started pulling.
And your feet followed.
Your eyes were panicked, but your body moved anyway.
Jesus Christ.
He wasn't getting the hint.
It didn't help that you still had that polite smile on your face.
Fuck.
Were you seriously so polite that you were going to let this idiot drag you away even though you'd clearly never met him before?
Absolutely fucking not.
Garrett's feet moved before his brain really registered what he was doing.
He shoved himself between you and Swim Team Whatever-His-Name-Was and forced your hands apart.
He wasn't trying to embarrass the guy.
He shoved his shoulder just hard enough to make him stumble.
"She said no."
"What the fuck?"
Bold and clearly running on liquid courage, the guy took a step toward Garrett.
The standoff lasted all of three seconds.
Then recognition dawned.
Because Garrett Graham was standing in front of him.
"Are you dumb?" Garrett asked. "Can't you tell she doesn't want to talk to you?"
The guy gritted his teeth.
"I was just..." He looked at you. Then back at Garrett. "She's all yours, man."
And just like that, he stumbled away in search of another vulnerable girl.
Your eyes looked just as panicked when Garrett turned back toward you.
"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to cause a scene."
Garrett savored the chance to finally look at you up close.
Your makeup was soft. A light dusting of blush colored your cheeks. Your lips were glossy and glittered faintly under the kitchen lights.
Your hair was pulled back with a floral headband.
Worst of all, you smelled like lavender and vanilla.
Garrett stepped closer.
Shielding you from the crowd.
Blocking you in until your back met the kitchen counter.
He wasn't sure how subtle it was when he leaned closer just to breathe you in.
"I know it's your party..." you whispered.
Your voice trailed off.
You stared up at him as if he were a wolf and you were prey.
Honestly?
The comparison wasn't far off.
If Garrett had to compare you to an animal, it would be a baby deer.
Wide-eyed, nervous and completely unaware of how vulnerable you were.
"You're..."
"Garrett," he finished for you. "What's your name?"
"Y/N."
The answer came out almost too quickly.
Too trusting.
Y/N.
It bounced around inside his head while his imagination immediately started building a picture of who you were.
A picture he already suspected he'd be thinking about later tonight.
"You're not really sorry, right?" he asked. "Because that asshole was the one trying to trick you into hooking up with him."
"I don't think he was..."
Garrett stared.
You genuinely seemed to be considering it.
As if you'd only just realized the guy had been hitting on you.
"I think he was just confused."
All Garrett really knew about you was your name.
But he'd already decided you were perfect.
Seriously lacking in street smarts.
But perfect nonetheless.
His jaw ticked.
He regretted not putting the guy through the floor.
"I think he's lucky I'm a nice guy."
You completely missed the meaning behind that statement.
He could tell because you immediately replied:
"Your house is really nice too. Thank you for having me. I mean, you didn't really invite me. Dean invited my roommate, but—"
You stopped yourself.
Realizing you were rambling.
"I mean, it's a good party."
Garrett grinned.
"Thank you. Your roommate is the redhead?"
You nodded.
"She just disappeared with Dean."
"Is she your ride?"
Garrett planted a hand on either side of you.
Close enough to feel your breathing change.
Close enough to know he was overwhelming your senses.
"Yeah. I was just gonna wait for her to... you know. Get done."
"You might be waiting a while."
Your mouth parted.
Then closed.
Had that possibility genuinely not occurred to you?
"Well, that's okay." Your smile was small. "If it gets too late, I can call someone. There's this guy in my Instructional Tech class who said he'd give me a ride if I ever needed one."
Garrett's brows immediately knitted together.
"A random guy in your class?"
"He's not random. We have class together."
"Have you ever hung out with him outside of class?"
"Well, no. But he's nice. And I can't really afford an Uber all the way back to my apartment."
Another guy who wanted to fuck you.
And you had absolutely no idea.
Garrett was beginning to notice a pattern.
He was already starting to hate the idea of letting you leave this house and return to your own devices.
"Your friend kinda sucks for bringing you here and then abandoning you."
The words came out before he could stop them.
Instantly, he regretted it.
Your face fell.
"I-I wanted to come."
"You like parties?"
"I like parties."
You practically struggled to force the words out.
A terrible lie.
Your discomfort was written all over your face.
"And she's a good friend."
"Hmm."
Garrett pushed away from the counter, finally giving you room to breathe.
"There's a good chance they're going to fuck all night, Y/N. If you want to crash here, there's a spare bedroom. If not, I can drive you home. I've only had one beer."
"You don't have to do that, Garrett. It's so out of the way. I'll find a ride."
Say my name again.
Please.
"You're adorable, you know that?"
You smiled immediately.
Embarrassed.
"Are you making fun of me?"
"Never," Garrett replied sincerely. "Let me drive you home."
Because an adorable little bunny like you wasn't getting into a car with some random loser from class.
"I..."
You pressed your lips together under the weight of his stare.
Had you ever told anyone no before?
"I should check in with my friend first—"
Garrett's hand found the small of your back.
"Sure."
He guided you toward the hallway.
"If my predictions are correct, they're probably in the laundry room."
Not a single word of protest left your mouth.
The irony of the situation dawned on him. He didn’t want someone else to take advantage of you, and yet he was practically doing the same, but Garrett was nothing like the guys who only wanted to fuck you. He actually had substance that backed up his bravado. Everyone at Briar knew that, and Garrett was watching as you came to the same revelation. Hockey captain. Six-foot-whatever. He was someone not to be fucked with. Maybe that’s why your body relaxed under his touch, and you let him lead you to the end of the downstairs hallway.
Garrett would bet a million dollars that his best friend Dean was fucking your red-headed friend with the door wide open. He pushed you ahead of him, his other hand finding the other side of your hip, holding you as you peeked into the doorway. As if you’d seen a ghost, Garrett watches as your hands slap against your own eyes.
Garrett couldn’t hold back the deep rumbling in his throat as he laughed. He took his own peek and found your red-headed friend bent over the running dryer as Dean pounded into her from behind. You turned around quickly, practically pressing your face into his chest, “Oh my goodness. Why did they leave the door open?”
“As you can see, your friend is occupied. Are you ready to go now, princess?” Garrett grabbed you by your chin, forcing your frightened eyes to look up at his.
You nodded, long eyelashes batting up at him. He takes another mental picture for later. He imagined his cock down your throat, that same look of fear and wonder in your eyes. He clears his throat, pushing the lewd thought out of his mind, “Then let’s get you home.”
Your apartment building might as well have been condemned.
It was a rude thought born from privilege, but Garrett couldn't suppress the uneasy feeling creeping up the back of his neck.
Of course you lived on the worst side of town.
During the twenty-minute drive, he'd learned how you'd ended up at Briar and, subsequently, at the hockey house.
You'd transferred in January and had been forced to find housing at the last minute.
That's how you'd met Paige, the redheaded puck bunny.
Apparently, she was renting out her couch and charging you half the rent.
“It pulls out.”
“What?”
“The couch.” You glanced over at him. “I'm not just sleeping on her couch. It pulls out and turns into a bed.”
Garrett shot you an incredulous look, taking his eyes off the road for a second.
“Where do you keep all your shit?”
“We turned the coat closet into my personal closet.” You smiled proudly. “It's actually more convenient than you'd think. And I don't have that much stuff anyway.”
You paused before adding softly,
“The important thing is that I'm here. You have no idea how long I've wanted to go to school here.”
Your eyes were bright and hopeful, standing in sharp contrast to the darkness outside the Jeep.
“And you're an education major?”
“Yeah.” You answered quickly, pleased that he'd remembered. “Elementary education.”
“That's cool.”
Garrett pulled into a parking space in front of your building and shifted the Jeep into park. The engine died and silence crept inside the vehicle.
He tucked his keys into the pocket of his sweatpants before leaning across the center console and unclipping your seatbelt.
His face ended up a little closer to yours than necessary.
“I'll walk you up.”
“You don't have to, really.” You offered him a small smile. “This is already too much.”
Too much.
The phrase irritated him more than it should have.
Was basic kindness really that foreign to you?
“I'm a gentleman, princess. Of course I have to.”
You laughed softly.
“Paige talks all the time about how hockey players are the exact opposite of gentlemen.”
Your roommate is an idiot, princess.
“Then let me prove her wrong.”
The words came out low and certain.
Garrett realized, as he climbed out of the Jeep and rounded the front of the vehicle to open your door, that he'd never meant anything more.
“Oh, I get it now. This is the same girl from the party.”
Garrett watched as Dean dug into the huge pile of food on his plate. The dining hall was bustling at lunchtime, and the conversation his friends were having was almost loud enough to cloud his thoughts of you.
Almost.
Until Dean brought up Garrett's new favorite subject.
You.
“Maybe you can invite her friend over again tomorrow since Tuck has people coming over?”
“Who’s her friend?” Dean asked, and Garrett stared back at him, forcing his gaze to remain steady to prevent his eyes from rolling.
“The redhead? Kinda moans like a goat?”
Dean’s lips pulled into a mischievous smile.
“Ah, I see. Freaky Paige. She said her roommate was, like, a super religious virgin and then something else about her growing up in a cult. Which kinda tracks. She just stood there alone smiling at everyone the whole night.”
“What the fuck? Y/N did not. And Paige is full of shit.”
Dean chuckled.
“It doesn’t matter. Paige said that was the last time we were hooking up because she’s getting back with her boyfriend.”
Your roommate really sucks, Bunny.
“Here’s your opportunity, G,” Logan spoke up, abandoning whatever conversation he'd been having with Tucker. He jerked his head toward one of the double doors.
You walked through alone, your hair thrown up in a high ponytail and a pink backpack slung over your shoulder. Although you weren’t smiling, you looked happy, and Garrett could only assume you’d just gotten out of class.
You headed toward the salad bar.
Garrett stood immediately.
He patted Logan on the back in gratitude before making his way over to you.
Your eyes widened in surprise before quickly brightening with unmistakable joy.
You were happy to see him.
“Hey,” he said, even though there was so much more on his mind.
You almost forgot you were filling your tray.
“Hi. How are you?”
“Good.”
Amazing, actually. More like it, now that you’re here.
“What about you?”
“I’m really good. I love Mondays. No afternoon classes.”
“So you’re free the rest of the day?”
Your lips parted in surprise.
You glanced down nervously as you added more toppings to your salad. Garrett followed alongside you.
“Well, yeah. I was gonna do some homework and then... start a new book.”
Jesus.
He even found the idea of you reading alone in your apartment adorable.
“I, uh, wanted to get your number. Totally forgot to ask when I dropped you off the other night.”
“My number?”
“For chauffeuring reasons, of course. Don’t want you getting stranded and having to call Instructional Tech Guy.”
That made you giggle.
“Really?”
“Really.”
You reached the end of the salad bar and started toward the register.
Garrett grabbed the tray from your hands.
“Let me get this.”
“I-I have dining dollars, Garrett. You don’t have to—”
“Save ’em.”
He’d do any small thing he could to take care of you.
At least until he figured out how to have all of you.
Garrett could practically feel his friends’ stares as he carried your tray away and abandoned them completely.
They knew this was more than him trying to score.
Girls threw themselves at Garrett.
In all his years at Briar, he’d never had to chase one.
“Let me see your phone.”
Garrett was already reaching for it before it was halfway out of your pocket.
Your lock screen was a collage of pink aesthetic photos and an orange cat.
“You have a cat?”
“Oh, yeah. That’s Mouse. I’ve had him since middle school, but it didn’t feel right bringing him here. Taking him away from his home.”
“He’s cute,” Garrett commented as he held the phone in front of your face and unlocked it. “Hey, are you religious?”
You blinked up at him.
Up.
Because Garrett was sitting beside you and was still massive even while seated.
“No. Uhm, not really. Wh-why do you ask?”
Stupid, freaky Paige.
“I was, uh, just wondering where you’re from.”
Garrett quickly learned you were from a small town in upstate New York.
From what he gathered, your home life was far from cultish. Nothing toxic.
You just seemed sheltered.
An only child.
He took the opportunity to enter his number into your phone and send himself a text.
“I’m serious about calling me if you need a ride somewhere.”
“You make it seem like Briar is a scary place. Everyone I’ve met is very nice. Including you.”
“I’m flattered, princess. And I agree that most people are nice. But this place has freaks and weirdos, and I’d prefer it if you weren’t anywhere near them.”
He was entitled.
What did it matter what he wanted for you?
He didn’t own you.
He’d met you two nights ago.
And yet you didn’t argue.
Almost as if you already trusted him.
“I’m working to save up enough money for a car, so hopefully I won’t have to bother you or Paige.”
“Where do you work?”
The question came out a little too quickly.
Garrett reminded himself he might scare you off if he didn’t pace himself.
And you did look a little nervous.
But you were an open book.
“I always work game days at the campus bookstore, so I’ve never gone to a game. And then I nanny during the week.”
“Well, if you’re free tonight, let me take you out.”
“Take me out?”
“To dinner.”
“Oh.”
You stared at him, eyes wide and beautiful.
“Why?”
“Why dinner?”
“A dinner date?”
“Yeah.”
“As friends?”
“The opposite, actually.”
Your lips parted, then closed again.
Garrett watched as you intentionally took a deep breath.
In through your nose.
Out through your mouth.
“I’m really trying to keep up here, Garrett.”
Too much.
Too fast.
He was pretty sure that’s what you wanted to say.
You just didn’t want to hurt his feelings.
“Hey. Relax, okay?”
His tone softened immediately.
The deep quality of his voice remained, but there was something undeniably gentle underneath it.
“It’s not a big deal. Just dinner. If you want, you could come over to my place and we could order something. Watch a movie.”
Another deep breath.
“Uhm... and then what?”
And then he’d probably kiss you. And touch you as much as he could before you became a bundle of nerves. So you weren’t completely innocent. Part of you, deep down, knew what dinner and a movie often lead to.
“There’s nothing to be nervous about. I like you, Y/N.”
“I like you too. I mean, I think you’re nice and...”
“And...?” Garrett prompted.
“Handsome.”
You winced as soon as the word left your mouth.
Not because you didn’t mean it.
Because you were worried it was the wrong thing to say.
“I’m sorry. If I’m being honest, I haven’t really been on a date since high school. And I’m a little confused that, out of all the boys at Briar, you—”
Garrett immediately shook his head.
“Are you questioning my taste?”
“Of course not!” you whisper-shouted.
“You’re pretty. You’re sweet. And I haven’t met anyone like you.”
His gaze settled on yours.
“I’d like to keep seeing you. So, I’m gonna drop you off at your apartment. You can read your book and do your homework. Then I’ll come back tonight and pick you up for our date.”
“Are you sure?”
Garrett gave you a look that was just stern enough to make you squirm.
“Okay, okay. That sounds... good.”
You waited until his expression softened before taking another breath.
“Now finish your lunch, baby.”
You nodded quickly and picked up your fork, finally beginning to eat.
part two
dividers by @/strangergraphics
pls reblog with your thoughts to be added to my off campus taglist :)
Warning: sexual content, unprotected sex, sex toys?
Your bunny boyfriend acts all sweet, innocent, and shy around other people, whether they're strangers, friends, or family. Simply the perfect bunny.
But when you're alone, he becomes a completely different person. His libido increases a thousandfold, and all he thinks about is fucking you. In seconds, he'll bend you down on any soft surface so he can fuck you to his heart's content, whether it's the bed, the sofa, or that fur rug he begged you to buy.
Your bunny boyfriend really enjoys pretending you're his dirty bunny. He makes you wear furry bunny ears (which he bought at a costume shop), furry thigh-high stockings, and a white pom-pom-shaped anal plug that looks just like his own.
He has you face down, ass up, drooling on the sheets as he vigorously fucks you from behind. His hands grip your hips tightly, his nails leaving crescent-shaped marks on your smooth skin. He groans and moans, biting his lip as he watches the pom-pom on your ass quiver when your anus contracts and loosens around the metal.
“Y-you... you have to –ugh... k-keep it inside you... n-naughty bunny...”
All you can do is moan as his cock hits your sweet spot again and again. Your hands grip the sheets, his fat balls slapping against your ass repeatedly, leaving a red mark on your fuzzy skin. The wet, dirty sound of slaps fills the room along with the thick smell of sex. His cock throbs inside you, his movements becoming more erratic, feverish like a real bunny in heat. He pinches your clit, making your eyes roll back.
“C-cum on, bunny... c-cum on right now... so your h-husband... can cum inside... y-you...”
His fingers rub and pinch your clit, right where his thick cock goes in and out of you. Your belly clenches and an electric shock travels through your pussy. You come with a sharp moan, your juices soaking his cock, dripping from his balls. The sensation makes his eyes roll back. With one last thrust, he cums, strands of warm, thick semen filling you. His tail twitches and quivers, as do his ears. Looks like you two will have a litter of bunnies very soon ♥︎
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
“write whatever you want, unless it’s…”, “draw whatever you want, unless it’s…” no, actually, when I say write/draw whatever you want, I mean write whatever you want, draw whatever you want. no buts. no “unless it’s…” censorship has no place in art.
art can be about taboo subjects. art can deal with something socially unacceptable. art can disturb and disgust. art doesn’t have to be for everybody.
tag your warnings so that people who might be triggered by your art don’t accidentally get exposed to it and you’re all good.
and if people try to shame you for the art you create because it’s “problematic” then you can tell them to fuck off and mind their own business. they read the warnings. they choose to read and engage with your art on their own free will. that’s not your problem.
dark fics and macabre art do not—have never, and never will—reflect artists’ in-real-life moralities.
harassing artists, real people, over fictional things will never make you “morally superior”. it only makes you a bully.
Content & Warnings (mdni): noncon, glory hole, unprotected sex, revenge plot, multiple creampie, oral sex, rough sex, sex toys, fingering, anal, pregnancy, squirting, reader is General Shepherd's adopted daughter
This is a work of noncon. Please use "cw: noncon" or "dark fic" to filter. Heed the tags. I warned you.
A/N: for the anon who asked for noncon with Price (have a few more) and for @quarterlifekitty who offered up additional brainworms to chew on.
Word Count: 2.6k
A death for a death. An eye for an eye. That’s how revenge always goes. But there is no death to avenge, only betrayal. Price will tarnish the pretty thing General Shepherd loves most.
ao3 // main masterlist
Behind the tree line is a motorway, the distant roar of cars barely audible given the natural barrier. The sky is dark. No stars. Simon’s cigarette is the brightest thing on the lot beside the lone bulb affixed to the building in front of them. It’s above the faded wood door, unprotected from the weather. The bulb is slightly blackened, dampening the light.
“Think he’s trying to kill us?” asks Kyle, eyes narrowing as he observes the worn wood.
Simon exhales, smoke curling around his face as it dissipates into the air. “Price?”
Kyle turns to Simon, top lip curled in disgust. “Fucking look at this place, mate.”
Johnny sticks his hands in his pockets, shrugging. “Not up for getting ya’ dick wet?”
“Fuck off,” groans Kyle.
“Think he’s on to something, Johnny,” croons Simon. The behemoth of a man inhales the last of the cigarette, tossing the butt in the gravel, extinguishing the embers with the toe of his boot. “No windows. Weird lock. Metal walls. Fucking murder shed that is.”
“Think there’s a dead body in there?”
“Limbs hanging from chains?”
“Captain Price, the serial killer?” Kyle’s fist lands on Johnny’s shoulder. “Fuck me. That hurt.” Johnny lunges, the two men wrestling for a headlock.
Rolling his eyes, Simon kicks at Johnny’s shin. “Grow up. Fucking children.” Lighter in hand, Simon clicks it open. Shut. Open again. “Rather do this in the club?” He nods toward the secondary building, the larger one to the left. Muffled, pounding music oozes from the building, growing louder when the entrance door opens. “Where everyone can watch? You into that?”
“Piss off.”
Johnny throws up his hands. “No judgement, Kyle.”
“Price wants us to blow off some steam,” says Simon. “We’ve been pent up. Aggressive since the mission. He’s fucking right.” He side-eyes Johnny. “Also felt bad you almost died.”
Johnny sighs dreamily. “Loves me more than my own, Da.” Johnny throws his arm over Kyle’s shoulder, drawing him in. “Probably bought us one of the bonnie lassies in there. Or three.”
Simon growls low in his throat, eyes on the door. “I have the code.”
Kyle’s head tips back, gazing up into the starless sky. “Let’s have it off then.”
Johnny hollers, shaking Kyle like he’s a ragdoll before taking off to the murder sex shed.
“Out the way, Johnny,” scolds Simon, elbowing him.
Simon punches in the code, the red light flipping green. Twisting the knob, he shoves open the door, revealing darkness. It takes a moment for their eyes to adjust, to unwrap the present inside.
“Fucking hell,” murmurs Simon, stepping into the small room. Johnny and Kyle slide in on either side of him. The door shuts with an audible click. “Is that—”
“It is,” says Johnny, clearly surprised.
No bed or lounge decorates this room. No scantily clad women ready to offer themselves. There’s a hole in the wall. A cutout. Large enough for a human to crawl through. Breeding Hole is painted in glowing green neon above it. Two arrows curve inward to point at either side of the hole. The lettering oozes downward like fresh paint.
The hole is not unoccupied.
Johnny’s surprise turns to lecherous glee. “It’s a fucking glory hole.” He slowly strides forward, gaze sweeping over exposed skin and spread legs.
A woman, but only half, sticks out from the wall. You’re on your stomach, a black board with a red cushion supporting your weight, top end covered by a black curtain. Black stilettos, strappy with a razor-thin heel, is all you wear. The rest is exposed and open for them.
Beside the glory hole are two sets of ankle straps. One set is higher than the hole itself, allowing for legs to be locked open and wide. The second set are level with the support cushion. They can bend your knees, force them open, keep you restrained as they fuck you.
Price didn’t buy one or even three of the workers in the club for a quick fuck. A countdown on the wall denotes the remaining time.
Three hours.
Three fucking hours.
Price bought a session.
Graffiti covers the remaining three walls. Several television monitors play porn without sound. Overhead, music blares, a thudding rhythm that shakes the bones. Light comes from a few stray bulbs in the ceiling, each covered by a clear glass box in different colors. The set-up bathes the space in a kaleidoscope, heightening the pulsing intensity of the room.
Simon, Johnny, and Kyle circle you but don’t touch.
Glancing at a nearby rolling cart, Simon grabs a bottle of lube. “Look here,” he says, nodding his head.
It’s packed with silicon dildos of various shapes and sizes, anal plugs, vibrators, a variety of stimulation toys from a feather to a wooden paddle. There are extra bottles of lube, individually wrapped sanitation wipes to clean themselves, or you, off, and beside that are two rows of disposable cameras with extra film. A sticky note next to the cameras says “Use Me.”
“No condoms,” muses Simon, finding them absent after a second perusal.
“Says breeding,” chuckles Johnny. “Don’t need condoms for that.”
“Think she’s clean?” asks Kyle.
Johnny turns on him. “First you think he’s trying to murder us and now you think he’s going to give us STDs?”
“Not intentionally,” mutters Kyle.
Simon snorts, placing the lube back on the cart. “Think Price is the type?”
Kyle inclines his head. “Maybe to his enemies.”
“Be real shite of him,” laughs Johnny. “After feeling bad for me and all.”
Stepping forward, Kyle traces the lines of your body, fingertips hovering millimeters away from skin. “Hand me the lube,” he demands of Simon, not looking at him. “And a plug,” he adds as Simon places the lube in Kyle’s offered palm.
Johnny claps his hands together, grinning madly. “Aye. That’s how it’s done.”
Gripping the plug in one hand and the lube in the other, Kyle squirts a generous amount. As he places his hand on your ass, you jerk as if surprised. Kyle gives you a generous, reassuring squeeze before sliding his hand between, easing you open wider until your pussy and anus are stretched and exposed. Both tense and flex, and Simon groans.
“Fucking gorgeous sight,” murmurs Simon, rubbing his hand over the front of his dark jeans.
Kyle aligns the plug, pressing the tip against the puckered hole. There is resistance but it pops in smoothly. Your thighs shiver followed by another jerk of your body. Kyle fills his hands with you, squeezing, some of the remaining lube transferring.
Squeezing both cheeks, he settles his clothed hips in front of your exposed pussy. “Perfect height,” he says, lightly thrusting. He backs up, gesturing. “Try.”
Johnny takes his place and then Simon. Height won’t be a problem. They’ll be able to fuck you with ease.
“Who’s starting?” asks Kyle.
When no one moves, Johnny aims for his belt buckle. “Aye. I fucking will.”
Johnny releases his semi-hard cock, easing his pants open and down enough to keep the zipper away from his dick. Fisting the base, he jerks himself, pressing the head of his cock to your clit, rubbing against it. A sharp smack echoes with the music as Johnny’s free hand comes down on your ass. A few more send your thighs twitching.
Kyle licks his lips, joining Johnny, occupying his hand with the other cheek. Simon lingers at the cart, picking up different toys and vibrators, clicking them on and messing with the settings.
Beads of precum bloom in Johnny’s slit. He paints your clit with them, smearing it around to act as lube. A few more beads and he playfully teases your pussy, easing the tip in and out, all while jerking himself to hardness.
“What about this one?” Simon holds up a small vibrator no larger than the palm of his hand. It’s on, shaking wildly, nearly jumping around from the speed setting.
Johnny smacks his dick against your pussy a few times and steps away as Simon approaches with the vibrator.
“Too much?” asks Simon, switching the speed down a level.
“Not enough,” replies Johnny, slowing his hand movements to strokes.
Simon ups the speed again, firmly shoving the vibrator against your clit. Your ass bucks into the air. Kyle lunges forward, placing pressure onto your lower back, forcing you back to the cushion. You writhe under Kyle’s hold, attempting to escape the sensation. Simon, with the continued pressure, swirls the vibrator.
Another jerk, and they all jump back.
“Fucking hell,” laughs Johnny. “Got ourselves a squirter.” Simon is already reaching for a wipe, patting down your skin to clear the excess. Johnny inserts two fingers into your pussy, pumping slowly. “She’s dripping.”
“Need us to hold her?” asks Simon
“Aye,” and Johnny nods at the cameras on the cart. “Want a picture of this slick cunt taking my cock.”
Simon chuckles, handing off a camera to Kyle as he readies his own. He holds it up, snapping a photo as Johnny’s cock disappears.
“Fuck,” groans Johnny. “Tightest cunt I’ve ever fucked.”
Simon snaps a few more photos and sets the camera aside. “We got her, Johnny.”
Together, Simon and Kyle grasp your legs, pulling you toward them and further onto Johnny’s cock. They move as one, adjusting the ankle straps, locking you in as Johnny rests his hands on your back, putting his weight behind it.
Hips sharply jerking, Johnny drives into you, only chasing his end. Lips parted, panting, beads of sweat forming on his brow. Simon and Kyle watch intently, their eyes lust-laced and eager, each of them stroking themselves to hardness as they wait their turn.
Johnny groans out his pleasure, grinding his hips against you as his balls tighten. Kyle already has the camera ready as Johnny slips out. Simon moves when Kyle does, spreading your pussy wide with his fingers. Kyle waits a beat, snapping a photo when Johnny’s cum appears.
“Not enough,” observers Simon. “Needs more.”
Kyle takes position. He doesn’t fuck as wild and hard as Johnny, but his strokes are deep and deliberate.
Johnny smiles behind the disposable camera. “Hold that pose.” Kyle eases your leg up a bit, giving Johnny a clear view of how Kyle’s thick cock stretches your pussy.
The camera goes off and Kyle starts to fuck you again. When the creampie happens, they snap another cumshot photo.
“Not enough,” repeats Simon. “Not nearly enough.”
With three hours on the tab, they rotate, take pictures, make you squirt a few more times. Kyle removes the anal plug, going up a size, insert it while they turn you onto your back. Ankles are secured in new restraints, toes pointing toward the ceiling, legs stretched.
Simon hooks his arms around your legs, hands firmly gripping your thighs. He cares little for ceremony or niceness. Their mixed cum is smeared all over you pussy and ass, overflowing whenever one of them fucks your cunt.
Johnny aligns the camera perfectly, angling just so to capture the position without Simon’s head in the photo and the television monitor off to their left. It’s showing a gloryhole similar to this one.
“Turn her on her side,” instructs Kyle, indicating how with a flick of his finger. “Think that tight ass is ready.”
Unhooking your ankles from the restraints, the three of them turn you onto your left side. Simon eases you toward them a touch. Lifting your top leg, he plants it on his shoulder. He straddles your other leg, aligning his cock up with your pussy. Johnny spreads your ass cheeks for Kyle; the plug removed with a wet pop.
On the other side of the partition, you cry out around Price’s dick as not one but two cocks enter you. They fuck rough. Hard. Whoever they are. Not that you can ask. Not that you can say anything. All you can do is stare daggers at the man keeping your mouth occupied.
Price tuts as you choke on him. “What will your daddy think of you?”
Daddy won’t know about this at all.
You’re taking this but you’ll never speak about it. Whatever your adoptive father did to earn Price’s ire is unknown to you, and you don’t wish to know anyway. General Shepherd never brings work home, but you’re aware of his power, and that he likely has enemies everywhere.
When Price took you from your apartment in Washington D.C., you thought he’d kill you. Make you an example to your father.
“Apologies, love,” murmurs Price, using his thumb to wipe away smeared cum on the corner of your mouth. “But your father’s a bastard.”
There is cum in your hair, on your face, all over the cushion, spread over your breasts. You’re not allowed to swallow. Your mouth is a hole for Price to come in. Nothing more.
Price palms your breast, squeezing, teasing your nipple between thumb and forefinger. “Glad my men are having fun.” Price eases the rest of his cock into your mouth until you gag. He retreats slightly, but only enough for your breathing to return to normal. “They deserve it. After what happened to them. What your father put them through.” He sighs. Shrugs. “Not that they know who they’re breeding.”
Unable to move, unable to speak, you only stare, narrowing your gaze to stinging venom. Price brushes it off like it’s nothing.
Insignificant.
Killing General Shepherd was Price’s gut reaction.
Soap shot in the head, bleeding out, barely clinging to life. They thought him dead. His recovery, as slow as it was, surprised them even more. If Johnny had been killed, if he hadn’t survived, General Shepherd would feel lead, too. Know death was coming for him.
The sole reason Price didn’t fill General Shepherd full of holes is because Johnny lives, and lives well. Price’s revenge requires a different taste, and before him, the spread is bountiful.
A few favors are all it took to put Price in Shepherd’s office at the Pentagon. Place is a fucking fortress but it’s just a building when people owe you. Shepherd will know it’s him. There’s no doubting that. But Price wants him to know.
Price leans against the front of the desk, lightly tapping the final nail against his palm. Around him are pictures. Took a while to develop them. Can’t walk into a store, hand over rolls of film full of cumshots, and ask for them to be developed. He had to do this quietly. Discreetly. Took a few months of planning, but it’s here, in front of him.
Each and every picture is from that night. The only face that appears in any of the photos are of yours. Boys were smart about how much of themselves they revealed. A few didn’t make it, but there were plenty in the end.
Price admires his work, at how the photos cover nearly every surface. Shepherd will walk in, and everywhere he looks, they’ll be a picture of his daughter taking cock.
But there’s one final piece.
Something he didn’t expect.
Something that happened just this morning.
You should have killed me. You should have fucking killed me!
You were angry, standing at Price’s doorstep. Don’t know how you fucking found him, but your Shepherd’s, and he likely taught you well.
Beating on his chest, screaming in Price’s face, you raged, and then you spit out the real truth, the reason you even went looking for him in the first place.
The pregnancy test stares up at Price.
There are three possible fathers. All of them still ignorant about you and what Price did.
He’ll disown me. Did you know that? He’ll force me out of the family over this.
Price won’t put it past Shepherd to act so harshly, but you’re with him now. Left you asleep on his bed, curled up under the covers. He’ll have to tell the lads eventually, but not right now.
Pushing off, Price turns, placing the pregnancy test down in the center of General Shepherd’s desk.
