#fat freezing price

[theinspiration12]

Unlocking Youthful Radiance: Exploring the Benefits of HIFU Therapy

In today’s world technology is constantly pushing the boundaries of what can be achieved in the quest, for timeless beauty and rejuvenation. One remarkable advancement in the field of cosmetics is Intensity Focused Ultrasound (HIFU) therapy. This innovative treatment offers an invasive and highly effective solution for various skin concerns. It has gained recognition, for its ability to restore vibrancy to the skin without resorting to surgery. Also, the HIFU treatment cost is not so high. In this essay, we will explore the advantages of HIFU therapy. How it has revolutionized the realm of cosmetic procedures. Read more: https://www.authortalking.com/unlocking-youthful-radiance-exploring-the-benefits-of-hifu-therapy/

[devil-in-hiding]

Heyo~ So feral thought here....waking up the on the run! 141 by riding one of them while the other three are also in the room, (I was thinking Soap first cause the moment he starts whimpering and moaning the others are awake to try and help ease his need only to go 👀 seeing reader riding him stupid)

cw: dubcon

oh my god this is fuckin mmmmmmmmmm

this almost makes me think of ahem sex pollen

but also just ovulating because i can picture farmer!reader getting so worked up you can’t help but sneak into their room at the break of dawn, crawling over Soap, he’s the only one laying on his back, and you are oh so pleased to find his thick cock already standing at attention, twitching when you lightly drag a finger base to tip

Johnny, slowly blinking sleep from his eyes as a heavenly wet sensation surrounds his cock, almost drifting back to sleep at the feeling of buried in something nice and warm

but then his eyes shoot open when you grind down, clenching around his cock and his mouth drops open

“o-oh fuck b-bonnie what-“

“needed you, needed to feel this fat fuckin cock.” you whine, bouncing on his lap, soaking up the way he just stares, letting you take your pleasure

his head drops back to his pillow when your nails graze over his nipples, back arching as he whimpers “fuck lass, stranglin’ mah fuckin cock”

“well if this ain’t a lovely little picture.” Price murmurs somewhere to left, and johnny freezes, but you don’t break pace, head tossed back as you ass slaps against johnny’s thighs

[pazza-di-te]

Bear price and his housewife while she's ovulating, and he obviously wants her to have his little cubs

mhmM bear price with that breeding kink

this was supposed to be with no plot by my hands have a mind of their own

// p in v, slight manhandling, talks of having kids, comment what else I've missed!

••••

John is clingy than usual. His usual gentle hand around the waist, had now become full on groping your hips, squeezing and patting the fat around the edges and if you listen close enough you could hear him groan delightfully.

Not to mention his usual appreciative kiss on the neck, had now become open mouth kisses to the side of your neck, sometimes he would smell just you. He did say time to time of the day you smell better, sweeter, nicer even without perfume. And both of you can't point out why.

Just like right now, you were trying to focus stirring the stew for dinner but John's hands and kisses were nothing but distracting, albiet a welcoming distraction.

"John? Im cooking" You said, trying to lightly imply that one more kiss to the neck could make you turn off the stove and kiss him on his bearded face right before reaching the bedroom and-

"Mhm... I can see that."

"Then Mr. Price, I need you to wait for dinner."

John was silent for a moment and you could almost think that he complied with your request, but those are wishful thinking

"How about, dinner can wait for us Mrs. Price?" John spoke back as his hand reached out to turn off the stove.

John didn't waste time on carrying you bridal style to the bedroom while you squel in surprise.

John couldn't wait any longer, just watching you do your daily routine had him adjusting his pants. He had enough and he wants you. Now.

John carried you to the bedroom right before lightly throwing you on the bed making you gasp in surprise. You didn't have enough time to gather yourself before John started crawling on top of you.

"Jo-"

He didn't waste time, pressing his lips onto yours. Its feverish, heated, and full of unsaid words.

"Sorry luv... Couldn't wait any longer."

With how he's panting and desperate, why not take pity on your poor poor man? They did say actions speak louder than words, with that in thought you leaned forward to kiss him more and your hands work on his shirt.

John groaned into the kiss

"atta luv."

••••

"Fuck! J-John, slow down- Ffuck please!" You gasp as he thrusts into you more from the back, your tits dragging sweetly agaist the sheets

"Just.... Little m-more" John hugged your body closer as you feel his weight onto you, his hairy chest and his bod agaist your back, and you can't do anything but lose your mind more.

Along the way he started whispering things agaist your ear, with him closer your getting the words clearer. Something about cubs?

"so good, so good for me luv, ai-aint that righ'?" John groans into your ear as his thrusts turn sporadic.

"Jo-John!"

"Take it- take it all. Gon be a good mum." He unwraps his arms around you and rose up straighter to grab you by your hips and plow deeper

You couldn't speak, your mouth only opening silently and John grunts as he feels you tighten around him.

"c-cum wit' me luv," he says as he thrust faster and faster.

John loudly groans as he spills his seed into you as you scream his name.

Your body shakes in its aftermath and John leans his head back from the feeling.

Both of you are panting and holding each other as you both calm down from the session.

"John?"

"Mhm... Yes luv?" he asked as he kisses your shoulder, spooning from behind you, his dick still inside, keeping you plugged

"Arthur sounds nice for a boy..." you smile at the thought.

John freezes his movements as he takes in your words.

"You really thin' so?" John looks at you, half afraid that was he heard was just a figment of imagination yet half excited at the prospect of having a baby.

"Mhmm, how bout a girl?" you smile at the thought

"haven't though' of that yet.... As long as she has your eyes..." Both you and John smile as the two of you start to daze off to sleep

[rodolfoparras]

cw: 18+, spanking,

You all are fake ass eaters do you know how I know? Because it’s always about eating someone out who has a big fat plump ass but what about old man price with a fat but flat ass, with dimples on his skin, stretch marks and scars dusted all over his back and hips, salt and pepper hair all over his body,

Imagine him laying flush against the mattress, briefs tugged under the small curve of his ass, face down to hide the embarrassment on his face- because he can’t believe he let you do something like this , all while impatiently shifting around on the sheets because he’s painstakingly hard and his weeping cock is uncomfortably sticking to the fabric

But you don’t plan on fucking him, at least not yet as you sit there straddling his waist clothed cock practically rocking into the cleft of his ass, while your hands knead his cheeks, watching the pale skin easily turn red under your harsh grip , and hearing the sweet whines and whimpers that escape his lips. “Hurry up kid,”

His words quickly turn into squeaks as the very first slap lands to his cheek

“Ah fuck!” Price cries out and you watch in amazement as the small of his ass softly jiggles under your hand.

The sight sends sparks of pleasure straight to your dick and a sense of urgency overtakes your body, as fingers swiftly massage the flushed skin before landing another slap to it.

“Fuck!” This time a loud scream escapes his lips, body jerking in place but unable to move much with your weight on top of him.

Just like before the small of his ass jiggles under your hand and you audible groan at the sight. “So fucking pretty,” you mindless say but once you register your words you freeze in place

“Shit I’m sorry-“ you say apologizes ready to start tumbling past yours lips, fearing you had made the older man uncomfortable in your lust filled daze.

But the man only moans in response, ass wiggling up in your direction, silently begging, pleading for for more.

Jesus Christ.

You don’t even think twice before you land another slap to his ass, the loud sound of skin being slapped mingling with the sound of his gasp

It’s almost as you fall in a trance as you contiously lands slaps to his ass, ever so entranced with the way the skin barley has time to recover before you’re landing another hit to his ass skin continuously rippling under your hand.

It’s only when you hear his quivering breath and see the way he’s practically shaking beneath you that you snap out of your daze.

“You okay?” You say, voice hoarse and full of concern as you look at the older man beneath you.

The man beneath you turns his head, looks at you with teary eyes and a flushed face before he drops his head into the pillow again. “Jesus Christ kid,”

[duskier]

he/she butch price running an auto body shop, distressed reader coming in because something is wrong with her car and she just can’t figure out what… nghggh price with a fat belly and hairy arms and big tits under her too-tight white tank top making the reader stay in his office while they sort out what’s wrong with the car bc it’s “too hot for pretty things like you to be out here”

Office FULL of cameras, mind you,,

She's got a cigar between his teeth and she's looking down at you making you feel like the smallest thing in the world, like an ant before him as she laughs at your feeble list of "troubleshooting" you did for your car. You had practiced it on the drive over, you wanted to seem competent and be taken seriously. She just looks at you which makes the warm press of embarrassment at your back grow stronger, makes you ramble on longer as your confidence peters out.

He presses you to sit down on his leather couch. Its old, cracked, one corner taped together with shiny silver ductape. She sits down too, way too close in your space. She's manspreading, so her dirty oil soaked jeans are pressing against your bare thighs. "Ought to be doing all those things monthly, lovie. Even if nothings wrong. Gotta take care of your car, so she can take care of you. You getting taken care of?"

Ughh her leaning into your space and she reeks of cigars and she's looking at you like you're a meal. You shiver, partially from the unwavering attention but also because you realize Price's office is freezing cold. It felt nice at first compared to the heat outside, but now it just had goosebumps running up your arms.

He insists you wait in there as she personally takes a look at your car, then directs his techs on what needs done. She comes back in, wiping his dirty hands with a towel. His eyes go right to your tits and light up when she sees them pebbled from the cold, pressing against your t-shirt.

Anyways he stalks towards you and despite your better judgement you let her fuck you nasty on that very couch :) it's only later you realize the blinds weren't fully closed and his techs were definitely peeking. (You will go back to her again next time your car so much as makes a funny noise.)

[hunterbunter3000]

141 + the others reacting to sweetheart in tight pants or short-shorts that leave nothing to the imagination?

Ugh G O D YES

(The Krueger imagine)

141!Sweetheart is getting really comfortable around the boys, enough to wear shorts that look like underwear on her. She has embraced her past and new scars and now wants to wear whatever she wants around the people she loves (platonically?idk LMAO) although she whines about it being too tight around her hips, she wears the black spandex shorts that ride up way too much on her thighs and ass. Fat jiggling while she walks, hypnotizing the men she works with. Price bites into his cigar, Ghost spills his tea as Gaz and Soap choke on their breakfast. König had to shuffle down in his chair to hide his groin under the table, while Alex and Roach just freeze and stare. Horangi had to go... clean up, as he brushed past a lightheaded Rudy and a grinning Alejandro.

She smiles at them and says, "Good morning!' Like she always does, innocent to their hard gazes. But she knows.

She knows hunger when she sees it, and she likes to keep them starving for more.

[meowpupp]

repost, im sorry. dunno what happened to the og

tw//: male oral receiving, noncon, crying, uhh i dunno

your life is practically perfect. every day you wake up and get taken care of by an owner who adores you. price gives you everything- warm meals, a comfy bed, a roof over your head. you couldn't have asked for anything better.

in the short time he's had you, he's improved your life tenfold. and so it's no surprise when he gets a call from the shelter, asking if he'd be interested in an emergency placement. 

its for another pup, a male this time. unlike you, who price assumes is a mix of a golden retriever and a german shepard, this new pup is a belgian malinoises. the lady thoroughly explains the hybrid's history. ex-military, highly trained, and extremely high needs. it would be a challenge, but one that price would be suited for. 

and so, two weeks later, your perfect little life is disrupted. price brings the new hybrid home. price brings kyle home. 

you’re not allowed anywhere near him. price has kyle locked up in the garage, keeping you two completely segregated. 

“he’s dangerous sweetheart. needs some training,” he explains when you ask. apparently, despite how good kyle tries to be, he still can’t help from being a little… rough. 

it’s torture. everything about kyle is so interesting to you. the only things you know about him are his name and his scent. 

his scent alone is nearly enough to send you into an early heat. musky, masculine and strong- gunpowder, fresh earth and something you can’t quite place. it makes your head spin and your cunt throb. 

you spend hours sitting at the garage door. hoping that if you’re sweet enough price will cave and give you what you want- it’s how it normally goes anyways. 

except this time it doesn’t work. 

days go by, then a week, then two. and in all that time, you still haven’t even seen kyle. it’s only a matter of time before you crack. 

you wait for price to fall dead asleep, then move quickly. sneaking down the stairs, and rushing to the garage. for a moment, you stand and think over your decision.

what if kyle is dangerous? what if he’s huge, with sharp teeth and mean eyes? he might just be waiting to get his hands on something sweet and pretty like you. he might hurt you 

you should turn back. but you don't.  

as you step into the garage, everything is still. there’s no noise, no movement. all you can see is prices car and some storage tubs. 

you step further inside, driven by curiosity as you look around. there’s a little bed in the corner, soft sheets and a nice pillow. you notice one of the blankets is yours. price must have been starting the process to introduce you two. 

you feel some guilt, suddenly realising just what you’ve done. not only have you disobeyed your owner, you’ve stolen his keys, broken into the garage, and led yourself into danger. 

before you can even think of darting out of the room, running to prices bed and acting like nothing happened, you hear movement. 

your body freezes, ears perking. the garage is cluttered, blocking your view as you glance around. you have no idea where kyle could be. you have no idea if its even him who made the noise. 

but all your thoughts are interrupted as a hand covers your mouth, another pulling your body into one behind you. your nose fills with kyles scent, and your brain switches off.  

every instinct to run, to kick and fight, to claw out of his grip is shut down. all you can think of is kyle. the way his hard chest presses against you, how big his hand is on your face, the sheer warmth of his body. 

he growls, the sound low and deep, “why’re you here?” you can feel his tent press against your ass. he doesn't give you an opportunity to answer, hand still covering your mouth. the other trails up your body, following your waist, pushing up your shirt. “you must be the other hybrid… price always tells me how good you are, so why don't you show me?” 

his hand gropes your tits, massaging the fat flesh. he groans, dick only growing harder as he grinds against your ass. he drops his head, nosing your neck, inhaling your scent. you're so small to him, so weak. he's trained to kill, to hunt, and in this moment you're his prey. 

kyle snaps, forcing you onto your knees. he moves to stand in front of you, your face level with his tent. “you've broken the rules, haven't you?” a smirk spreads across your face, grinning at the conflict of guilt and lust that spreads over your face, “shhh, i wont tell, okay? just gotta let me do one thing first…” he mumbles, eyes growing half lidded. his thumb swipes across your bottom lip, “let me fuck your throat raw. wouldn't want you to slip up, accidentally tell on yourself.” 

his smirk only grows as you hesitantly nod, parting your lips. 

he takes his time, slowly inching his way down your throat. he forces every inch of his thick, veiny shaft into your mouth. kyle isn't like price, he doesn't have the same control. he tries, he really does, but the way you gag and choke around his cock is too much to bare. 

the only sounds that fill the garage is his strained grunts, and the wet gagging noise you make with his every thrust. he takes what he wants, using you as nothing more than a toy. holding you in place, he fucks your throat ruthlessly. 

by the time hes done, tears are streaming down your face. he pumps his load down your throat, directly into your tummy. he denies you the privilege of tasting his cum. instead, he uses his dick to smear your drool all over your face. he tucks himself away, smirking at the way your face glistens with tears and spit, how swollen and red your lips are. 

as he leans down, he gently cups your face. his lips brush against your ear as he speaks.“go run back to daddy now. and remember, not a fucking word of this.”

follow up; here.

[tojisun]

https://x.com/raspb3rry_angel/status/1738593739902255616?s=46&t=dQdAclJh9_X4qFDs38sC_Q

all i see in this gif is price and im losing itshxjdjsjsh OHMYGODDD

btw i love ur work sm!!!

OH U GOT ME GAGGED W THIS ONE HELLO - gif p link

no yea thats price 100%!! im actually tearing down the walls and screaming!!!

!! smut - minors dni; discussions of bondage/choking; D/s; unedited :>

john was the one who asked if it was alright to do it. it being him choking you.

you blinked up at him in shock, minute tremors racking your body as images flashed before your mind: you, bound and helpless, and john, looming over you with his hand wrapped around your neck. because that had been the natural assumption – john’s beautiful hands, aged and scarred but so, so big and wide choking you.

so you said yes, breathless yourself. and john, beautiful and ragged john, smiled and reached forward to brush your hair away from your face. you were acutely aware of the size of his hand against your cheek, and you feel floaty, too hyper-focused on the way it feels so close to your pressure point.

then, john decided he had to ruin you even more because within the next heartbeat, he whispered, “you’ll look so good in leather,” before standing up to leave. you gaped at his words in surprise, body freezing, but john did not elaborate nor put whatever he meant into action.

until now, that is.

your front is pressed flushed against the mattress, john’s weight bearing down on you from behind. his hands are tight around your wrists, gripping as he humps his cock in your cunt, rutting so deeply, making your toes curl.

you mewl and sob, arching back to try and match his pace, but john changes the rhythm and throws you off the loop again. he clicks his tongue, faux disappointment tinging his voice. “what happened to bein’ my good girl?”

there’s a shuffle as he changes position, his knees locking in place as he rises up. it makes his cock slide out, gradual and teasing, and you whimper when it finally pops out.

john fists the fat of your ass, an appreciative grunt rumbling from the base of his throat, before landing smacks on your skin, the sound reverberating like gunshots. you squeal, trying to dodge away from the weight of his hand, but john only chuckles, a sound that curls with something a little mean, spanking you countless more times until pain and pleasure bleeds together.

“john!” you hiccup, arching away from him, but john chases you with his bulk. with his cock – the fat of it sliding back so deeply in you.

“shh,” he says when you gasp, your head falling back down to the sheets. “y’r doin’ so good for me, love.”

the sound of fabric crinkling echoes beside you. you try to twist, to see what it is he’s doing, but his cock slides in harder, hitting deeper, and you collapse to your front with a gasp. john lets out a pleased rasp, doing it again – a slow glide out and a rushed thrust in – milking out more choked sobs from you.

open-mouthed breaths pass through your teeth and you arch your back, hoping that john does it faster, feeling your orgasm peaking, ready to spill over.

a snap of leather rings through from the back of your head before something wraps around your neck, looping with measured ease. there is a heartbeat, a moment of stuttered breath between you and john, before he is pulling.

it’s his fucking belt, you realized.

you mewl, unable to escape the restraint, feeling the leather digging into your throat. it hurts. it feels good. it-

john arches his cock, hitting somewhere deeper. kissing somewhere more sensitive.

fuckfuckfuck-

[theinspiration12]

The Myriad Benefits of Fat Freezing Therapy: A Non-Invasive Path to a Slimmer You

Fat freezing therapy, also known as cryolipolysis, is a non-invasive and efficient approach to remove localised fat deposits and get a leaner appearance. Fat freezing therapy is an attractive option for anyone looking for a non-surgical fat reduction alternative due to its efficacy and safety. While it cannot replace a healthy lifestyle, it can support your efforts by focusing on problem areas that defy diet and exercise. Listed below is the science and benefit of cryolipolysis to help you unveil the secrets behind this remarkable fat-reduction technique:

The Process of Fat Freezing Therapy Cryolipolysis is grounded in the principles of thermodynamics and fat cell biology. The procedure involves the controlled application of cold temperatures to targeted areas of the body. A typical cryolipolysis session lasts around 35-60 minutes, during which the patient can relax. The device is placed on the targeted area, and controlled cooling begins. Many patients use this time to catch up on reading or even take a nap.

Astonishing Benefits of Fat Freezing Therapy

Targeted Fat Reduction for a Sculpted Appearance Cryolipolysis offers precise targeting of specific areas where stubborn fat tends to accumulate. Whether you're bothered by excess fat in your abdomen, thighs, love handles, or that pesky double chin, this technique allows for spot-on treatment. Instead of dealing with a more generalized approach to fat reduction, you can sculpt your body precisely how you want it. This tailored approach ensures that you get the results you desire in the areas that matter most to you.

Long-Lasting Results – Goodbye to Stubborn Fat Cells When you undergo cryolipolysis, you can rest assured that the fat cells targeted during treatment are gone for good. This is a stark contrast to traditional weight loss, where fat cells may shrink but remain in your body, ready to expand once you indulge in your favourite treats.

Painless and non-invasive procedure The non-invasiveness of cryolipolysis is among its most alluring advantages. As a result, the patient won't experience any major discomfort and won't require any surgical incisions or anaesthesia. The patient doesn't need to be put to sleep for the procedure, which takes place in a cosy clinic atmosphere.

Individualised Treatment Plans to Meet Your Needs The ability to customise cryolipolysis is another example of its adaptability. Your treatment programme can be customised to meet your unique requirements and objectives. You are free to talk about the needed number of sessions and the precise topics to be addressed with your therapist. Because you have control over the process and can modify it to suit your tastes and priorities, flexibility is a key advantage. Wrapping Up: In a nutshell, fat freezing therapy just like permanent body hair removal for women has several advantages that make it a desirable choice for people who want to get rid of obstinate fat deposits and have a more contoured appearance. By choosing cryolipolysis, you can influence the shape of your body in a convenient, pleasant, and effective way, thereby boosting your wellbeing and sense of self-worth!

[shotmrmiller]

Inevitable (Ending 1 to Situationship)

Pairings: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x AFAB! Reader

TW: Major Character Death, blood, hurt/ little comfort, a g o n y

Simon closes his eyes in defeat. He had been dancing with death for too long, and it'd finally come to collect it's dues.

This particular mission had been long. He knew it would be. Price had debriefed him on it months before— since it would only be them two. They were the seniors of the task force. They've done a similar mission before, so it seemed only natural that they did it again.

But it didn't mean it hadn't been shit since they arrived.

Almost 9 months out in the freezing cold, MRE's every day, waiting for the chance to finally get their hands on vital information that would save millions.

It was a tiny town in Russia, Oymyakon. Home to about 500 people. Soldiers, mostly. The plan had been to wait for a large portion of the small militia to move cities— to another safe house in the nearby city of Khara-Tumul. What prolonged this mission was that while Ghost and Price knew they'd move, they didn't know when. And it had been imperative that the duo get out here not to miss this slim window.

To Simon, this had been a perfect way to not be distracted with the situation back home. With you.

You had been with him for years now, and he always loved going home to you. A warm flat, a home-cooked meal, and the love in your eyes every time he came back from a mission. But then something he hoped wouldn't happen, did. Simon's past chose to catch up with him now. Now, when he finally had something to look forward to in life.

One day, outside his door, was an envelope. He had felt a crushing pressure on his chest. The blood in his veins was cold, and his hands trembled as he picked up the envelope. He squeezed his eyes as he let out a shuddering breath— praying to whatever higher power that the enemies he has made throughout the years don't know about you. He practically rips open the package and his worst fear is confirmed. Photos of you and Simon out on a date. He even remembers the said date because you had been wearing the sexiest leather booties he'd ever seen. Simon had made you wear them as he fucked you into the mattress that night.

Which meant that Simon had to end it with you. He was about to go on a mission for an unprecedented amount of time and he would not be here to protect you. So a month before leaving, he treated you coldly. Harshly. A way he'd never dream of being with you. He would hear you crying in the bedroom and it was a knife to his heart, but to him, it seemed like it was the only way to keep you safe.

Then, a moment he'll never forget. He said that he didn't feel the same for you as he did before. Thought it best if you both went your separate ways and that it had to be within the next two weeks because he was selling the flat and moving away. That whatever of his you had, to give it to him. Any sleeping shirts, photos, and the bloody ring he promised himself you'd wear to your grave.

He was a witness to how you broke at his words. God. He, at that moment. wished his enemies just took him and be done with it. Relieve him of the agony he caused to himself by hurting you. You wailed, agonizingly loud, fat tears rolling down your cheeks and dripping from your chin to the floor for what seemed like hours.

Til your heartbreak turned to rage. You spit venom at him. That if he had another 'cunt' waiting for him somewhere. That if he ever even loved you. You always were his strong merciless woman with fire in your veins and smoke in your lungs. How hard it was to be him, sitting on the couch and blankly stare at the telly without rising to your jibes. To tell you the truth. That there has been no one before you and there won't be one after you. But he forced himself to ignore you as you shoved all of your belongings in your luggage before throwing him the engagement ring and slamming the door.

Gone.

After this, he lived up to his namesake. He was a ghost from your past life. As if he had never been there in the first place. You moved away, far away, and it was bittersweet for Simon because this way you could disappear, out of the limelight. Breathing. Alive.

And he kept an eye on you, from afar. Just to make sure you were safe.

It worked. Both fortunately and unfortunately. You moved on, it seemed. Not from him, which he is so grateful for, but your life went on in every other aspect. It went uninterrupted up until his deployment.

It was supposed to be a simple but long mission. Wait for them to clear out before cleaning house. But even with all the careful planning, and no fucking mistakes, it went tits up.

Somehow they missed one. One fucking enemy. Simon had been standing behind John and turned around after hearing the crunch of broken glass behind him.

One shot to Simon's shoulder, another to his stomach, and then another to the right side of his chest. Before Simon falls, John shoots the last man dead. He throws himself to his knees next to Simon, gloved hands on top of each other as he presses hard into the bullet hole bleeding the most— the one in his ribcage.

"Christ, Ghost. Stay with me, son. We'll get you out of here and patched up in no time, yeah?"

Simon can't hear anything past the rushing of blood in his ears and his own heartbeat, pumping out blood from his wounds with each pulse. Simon's losing too much blood, too fast, and he knows it.

Price is panicking, voice warbling on the radio calling for medevac, but the wait time is 45 minutes. Far too long. And Simon had beat the devil once, long ago. Everyone knows he can't be beaten twice. He opens his mouth and blood bubbles in it as he tries to speak.

"I'm not making it, Captain."

"The hell you're not, Simon, stay with me!"

Simon grabs John's wrist with the little strength he's got left and whispers out, "Captain. John. Please," before digging into the inside of his glove, and pulling out something before clasping it in John's hands and squeezing.

"Please."

John looks at his own hand and nods, eyes glassy with years before he sniffles, clears his throat, and tells Simon of how his daughter had just learned how to argue back when he wouldn't give her any more juice because she's had too much.

Simon is still gripping John's hand as he drops his head back in resignation —before he imagines the family he could've had with you. Pretty little girl with curly hair, your eyes, and all of your attitude. In another life, he thinks, he'd find you there too. In any life, he'd love you.

He wheezes an inhale once—wet, painful— and exhales, and then his chest stills. Hand gripping John's goes limp. John lets out an agonizing scream through his teeth before he presses the button on his radio so hard it cracks.

"All stations— this is Bravo. We got the intel...One KIA."

---

You're in your bed, toasty and warm, when there's a knock on your door. You sharply raise your head before turning to look at the clock.

8 a.m.

'Who in the hell is at my door at this hour?'

You begrudgingly throw the covers to the side, hand on the swell of your belly before rolling up from your side to sit on the edge of the bed, and step into your slippers. One hand underneath your 3rd trimester bump, you drag your feet towards the front door and open it.

A tall man with mutton chops and a black beanie is standing in front of you. He looks down at your heavily pregnant stomach and closes his eyes, softly shaking his head with a, 'Bloody fuckin' hell.'

Your face is contorting into confusion when he opens his mouth to say, "You must be Simon's fiancee."

Your heart starts to pound into your ribcage. You don't even try to refute his claim because you have an inkling of what this is about. 'Please god, no.'

"It is with deep regret that I am here to inform you of the untimely death of your fiance, Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley. He died on active duty, contributing his best to our cause. The reputation gained by your fiance is a fine one, and I hope the knowledge of this affords you pride and comfort during your sorrow. I extend my heartfelt sympathy to you."

Your throat is closing up, choking you as tears well in your eyes. Chest is on fire because you can't breathe and your chin is trembling with the struggle to not weep and fall on your knees. Taking a deep shuddering breath, you clench your teeth. You're livid. Whatever the fuck this is, it isn't good enough for your Simon.

Voice warbly and wet, you hiss, "I could've gotten a casualty letter from the bloody military if I wanted to hear you spew your shit," ending it with a sniffle.

"You're right. May I come in?"

Throwing the door open, you shuffle inside as John steps inside. You're about to sit down when you hear a "Let me.", before the chair you're about to sit on is pulled back. Holding the underside of your belly, you let out a huff as you drop your weight to the seat.

You turn to look at John and you see the clench in his jaw before he opens his mouth to try and speak but he cuts himself off with a clearing of his throat. He takes a second before swallowing and grips the back of one of your dinner table chairs before attempting to speak again.

"Simon was one of my best." Your eyes soften at how frail and shaky his voice sounds.

"He was always at my six. Said it was to be the eyes I didn't have at the back of my head. But I know he always had his facing an open area whenever I was turned around. He died for me. Had he been standing anywhere else other than behind me, he would still be here," and he breaks down, shaky sobs leaving him.

You slowly get up, hand to your lower back before moving to him and giving him an embrace as you wail into his shirt— mourning the loss of a loved one.

It seems like a long time before John taps your upper back and says, "Come. This cannot be good for the baby. You need some relaxing tea, eh?"

With hiccupping breaths, you pull away to look at him before nodding.

"Come. You're gonna make it for me. I wish to get to know what kind of extraordinary man you must be. Simon would not have given his life for less."

He gives a self-deprecating chuckle before he digs into his pockets, before holding his fist out, dog tags glinting under the light and a small white square between his thumb and index. That square has your address written in shorthand and it had a bloody streak over a part of it— the streak the shape of a finger, as if ripped out from someone's hand.

"His dog tags. As well as what Simon on his dying breath. He carried this with him, and by the state of how crumpled it is, he had it everywhere with him."

You take the chain, putting it around your neck— tags resting against your belly— before taking the paper. It's a photo of you. You're in a flower sundress, skin glowing under the rays of the sun with a blinding smile and rosy cheeks. You knew this photo. Simon always claimed it was his favorite. That he loved your smile here because He had made you smile like that.

Your tears are slipping from your eyes and dripping onto your pajamas before picking up the dog tags and pressing a kiss onto the cold metal, then letting them drop. Little baby Riley gives a swift kick to where the tags landed on your stomach.

@thychuvaluswife

[forestshadow-wolf]

I can't stop imagining soap asks ghost out, like officially. And ghost declines, saying he's not good for soap. And soap is sad, but he accepts it, not wanting to overstep. Their relationship stays the same, soap never looks for anyone else. Every few months he asks again and every few months ghost declines the offer again. But even though ghost turns him down, he looks at soap with the saddest eyes ever. They're a sad kind of happy, because he gets to keep soap happy but he has to let him go to do that.

Their relationship progresses over the years, ghost even starts to leave the mask off around soap, but they never become official. Soap still asks, ghost still rejects. It's worse without the mask, soap thinks. Because now he can see the sad smile paired with those eyes, every damn time ghost looks at him.

Ghost, by some luck of the gods he'd rejected long ago, aged out of the military. Well technically as a legally dead man he was a military asset and therefore couldn't age out, but he'd gotten an especially bad injury on the field and price decided it was his time to leave. He was written off as "damaged" and decommissioned due to the injury. They stay in contact, soap still asks, he still declines. They don't see each other for years, even if they text or call almost daily.

Until soap also ages out, almost 4 years after ghost [I don't actually know their ages or age gap lol]. They finally meet face to face again, when simon agrees to pick him up from the train station. Soap's a bit more rugged and scarred than when he last saw him, but it's him nonetheless. And ghost is maskless, with a nice, healthy layer of fat covering dense muscle, and he's kept his beard and mustache into a neat stubble.

Johnny steps off the train, and when their eyes lock it's like time itself freezes so they reach eachother in an instant. And johnny, just for the hell of it, asks again. He knows simon won't accept, but he has to try anyway.

And simon, for the first time in over a decade, says yes. After years and years of dancing around eachother. Years of sad smiles and even sadder eyes. He says yes.

Johnny freezes for a moment, his bags drops from his hands. Simon laughs at the way he can see Johnny's brain working overtime to compute the single word. And then his face splits into a blinding grin, and suddenly he's laughing and jumping around, and he hefts simon into his arms bridal-style, and he plants a stupid, wet kiss onto his cheek. And simon lets him, and his smile and his eyes, for once, are happy.

And they are happy. And they retire happily. And they go on dates happily. And they live the rest of their live happy.

[devilfic]

❝honeymoon❞

III. on the clock.

parts: previously / next plot: your mother has been conducting business with some pretty shady business partners and it puts you in danger. thankfully, saving you is in your husband's job description. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: arranged marriage, friends to enemies to (fake) lovers, implied history between reader and bruce, violence, bruce being a little Bossy, use of the gender neutral honorific "mx" (feel free to insert mr. or mrs. there if you like). words: 2.1k.

a/n: been watching a bit of supergirl lately and I'm a big fan of the "supergirl is lena's scary guard dog" dynamic they've got going on. got inspired

You suck in a breath between barely parted lips before the smoke hits you in a cloud. Thick, pungent. You hold your breath even as the smoke tickles your eyes, makes them water, until it clears and all you're left with is the bastard sitting across from you, "I understand that it might be... upsetting to hear, but Wayne Enterprises thanks you for all you've done during our partnership."

Cigar hanging from the jaws of a wolf, Mr. Carpinelli is hardly upset. He's grinning around the head of his cigar when he tells you, "You're making a big fucking mistake." He's furious.

You keep your head held high, "Again, I deeply apologize for how abrupt this must be. As acting CEO, I have had to make some tough decisions in the past but this is by far one of the toughest." You bite the lie out, appearing sweet and docile. "You were one of our best. We will be looking forward to all Carpinelli & Sons' future business ventures."

You hear the hacking in his throat before it lands on the ground in front of your feet: a fat, muddy glob of spit sits a (thankful) hair away from your shoe, and even you can't bother to hide your scowl.

You let him smoke in your (Bruce's) office. You let him kick his feet up on your desk. You even let him have some of the good brandy, and watched him gobble it up like four ounces of the stuff didn't cost the full price of his pretty snakeskin shoes.

And he spit at you.

Mr. Carpinelli stands to his feet and puts his cigar out on your desk and really, that should have did it for you, but you bite your tongue until you taste blood. Then he points one fat finger at you, about as fat as the Corojo burning a ring in your desk, "Tell your bitch of a mother she should've told me herself."

"My bitch of a mother didn't give the order," and your venom is not on behalf of your mother, lest anyone be mistaken, "I did."

Something flickers in Carpinelli's eyes. Without another word, he leaves the office in a flourish, and you sink back into your chair only when your ears cease ringing.

Bruce is delighted. Or you think he might be. You weren't certain what delight looked like on him these days, but the solid "OK" in response is enough for you to focus on your shaking. You remind yourself that you're not out of the woods yet, and that Carpinelli was only one half of the dastardly duo you needed to break up. Eventually, or rather, imminently, she would find out what you'd done. It'd be better to break the news in person before she got word from Carpinelli herself.

But Bruce approved. Bruce, who'd been on the same page as you when you'd brought up the idea, who'd left you in less despair than when he'd found you, agreed with you. Your mother be damned and damned should she be, you at least had Bruce on your side.

You step out into humidity and immediately one of the doormen flanks you, rushing to open your car door for you with a "Goodnight, Mx. Wayne" and a "get home safe" that goes in one ear and out the other. You just barely have the wits about you to return the pleasantry, climbing into the backseat of your car with your hand halfway to the collar of your coat when you freeze.

Across from you is Mr. Carpinelli, smiling around another cigar. How the smell of it hadn't hit you when you first sat down was far beyond you. The car jerks into Gotham city traffic without a hitch. A glance in the rear-view tells you that this is not your usual driver.

You're trying really hard to not let this get to you.

"I forgot to say before: congratulations on the nuptials."

"The wedding hasn't happened yet."

Carpinelli raises an eyebrow, "But you still make the help call you Wayne?"

"Can I help you with something, Mr. Carpinelli?" It takes some hidden strength in you to keep the shake out of your voice, "Perhaps I wasn't clear enough before?"

The mob boss stretches his leg until his foot is pressing into the bottom of your seat, those same pretty snakeskin shoes marred by mucky rainwater. You turn your knees away but feel the water drip onto your ankle. You resist the severe urge to drive an ice pick through his skull.

"I called your mommy after our little conversation," your blood runs cold, "and she told me to disregard your little... power trip." He blows a ring of smoke, "So no bad blood here."

"Did she, now?"

"Mhm. Seemed pretty pissed, too. Hope she doesn't ground ya."

"You seem to think it's her name on the building."

"It ain't yours."

"Yet."

Carpinelli laughs, brushing some ash onto the carpet, "Funny. How that works." And he sits up, crouching in front of you with his cigar raised above your knee. His other hand clutches it in his meaty palm. His cigar is close enough to the skin that you can feel the heat coming off of it, all the while struggling against suffocating on the smoke. Your phone is in your coat pocket and there'd be no way to discreetly get to it with him this close. "Listen, doll. I'm doing this as a courtesy. I don't usually give people the chance to piss me off twice."

The panic button in all Wayne Enterprises vehicles is under the seat, however.

Carpinelli keeps talking and you take your hands out of your lap, leaning forward and feigning that you're listening. All the while, your fingers are stretching under the seat, searching for that little, tiny, infinitesimal-

The car rocks violently as something heavy lands on top of it with a thud. It shocks Carpinelli enough that he lets your knee go, turning his head up to the ceiling, "What the fuck was that?"

The driver knows just as much as the two of you do. You feel him jerk the car straight, but before he can pull over to check what made the sound, a fist punches through the roof of the car.

It's enough to make Carpinelli fall over like a bumbling buffoon.

He doesn't get very long to collect himself. The metal of the roof is being torn back, making an ugly sound as the hole gets bigger. You manage to locate the panic button just in time to see a hand reach down into the car and grip Carpinelli by the front of his suit and... and snatch him out.

The driver nearly crashes the car into a building trying to pull to a stop, fumbling futilely for the handgun at his side, but another hole is punched into the roof above his head and he's dragged out just as dramatically as Carpinelli.

Before you can be stolen too, you crawl to the front and unlock the car before throwing your full weight against the door to escape.

Outside, you find the driver splayed out on the sidewalk, out cold. On the street, Carpinelli is crawling away on all fours from... your husband. In all his caped glory.

"I-I didn't do nothing! I swear!" Carpinelli cries. You watch, however, as Bruce plods up to him. He ignores his pleas for mercy and yanks him up by the collar once more. Carpinelli's feet dangle inches off the ground.

"Who'd you pay off?" Bruce's voice barely carries over the noise of the city, but you hear it from where you're crouched behind the car.

"Wh... what? What are you talking about?" Bruce violently shakes Carpinelli and you watch as the smaller man grips at his arm for dear life. "I swear to God, I got no idea what you're talking about!"

"Your driver. Not your car. Who did you pay off?"

Carpinelli's eyes are wild. You've never seen true fear like that before, "Nobody! Nobody. My guy stole the keys and badge off the other driver. That's all!" When Bruce doesn't immediately release him, the mob boss keeps squealing, "T-The driver's in the boiler room. Knocked out cold. He's not dead. I promise."

Seconds might as well be minutes as you and Carpinelli hold your breaths. Waiting for the Batman's judgment.

Bruce yanks Carpinelli toward the car, rams his head into the trunk, and lets the unconscious mob boss roll under the boot.

After a few stuttered breaths, you stand to your feet.

Bruce doesn't raise his head from where he'd been staring down Carpinelli, but his eyes flit to you in an instant. Stepping over the bottom half of your abductor, Bruce makes his way around to you.

You're gearing up to tell him you're alright when his hands find both sides of your face, effectively silencing you, "Did he hurt you?"

You tremble. The adrenaline rush was falling steadily, but Bruce hasn't touched you like this since... since... since before he began to hate you.

His eyes are all full of concern though, the clearest his expression has been toward you since this whole engagement kicked off in the first place. You feel like you're really seeing him right now and it's too delicate for you to grasp. You wade in it a little longer, selfishly, "You got here just in time. Before I even hit the panic button, I- how?"

You're surprised to find Bruce suddenly timid. He releases your cheeks and despite the dewy heat of early summer, you crave the warmth of his hands instantaneously. "There's a bug in the office."

You blink, "Come again?"

"The cars, too."

"Like... recently, or..." Bruce gives you a look that says "I think you know the answer to that". Somehow, this is more chilling than almost being kidnapped. "Do you... listen to everything?"

"Do you have something to hide?"

No, you want to say, just hours of me singing to myself, ranting to the wall, and unscheduled visits from my mother about how I should baby trap you. Surely, if he'd heard any of that, he'd have sued your mother into oblivion and this whole marriage would have been done for. You swallow down the panic and shake your head, "Not really, no."

Sirens in the distance grow louder as they reach your destination, and sure enough, the signal to the GCPD had gone through without a hitch. Several cop cars round the corner and Bruce carries Carpinelli and the driver's body out into the street for them to pick up.

You glance between him and the first cop that pulls up, "I should... probably grab another ride to my mother's. She's going to be furious about... well, everything."

But before you can walk away, Bruce grips your upper arm and pulls you back into his side, making you stumble and grab onto his chest. You stare up at him, bewildered. Bruce grunts. "That can wait. I'm taking you home."

"But the police-"

"Emilio Carpinelli? Is it my birthday, Batman?" One of the cops snickers as he walks up, handcuffs at the ready, "What happened here?"

Bruce cuts you off before you can answer, "Attempted kidnapping and criminal threat toward the Wayne Enterprises CEO. Carpinelli admitted to the assault of the Waynes' driver, as well as stealing his badge and keys. Send a car to Wayne Enterprises to retrieve the driver from the boiler room. That's all he admitted to."

"Will do. And you, Mx. Wayne? Sure hope he didn't get his filthy paws on ya."

You shake your head, "No, thank goodness. Batman arrived just in time."

The cop nods, "Well, we'll probably need to bring you in for further questioning. Just to corroborate the story in fuller detail."

"Tomorrow. Bruce Wayne wants them back home now."

The cop looks between you and Batman, eyes narrowing in confusion. Eventually, they land back on you for confirmation, "Yes," you breathe, leaning into Bruce's side with intention now, "my husband- well, fiancé is very worried. But I'll be happy to stop by the precinct bright and early tomorrow morning, if that's alright?"

And it's not like the guy is gonna argue with you when your kidnapping lead to the arrest of one of the biggest dons running Gotham City. He leaves you and Bruce with a nod and a call to stay safe.

But as Bruce leads you in the direction of what is slowly appearing to be the "Batmobile", you pry his hand off your arm and hold it in between you instead, "Mr. Wayne wants me home, you said?"

Bruce pointedly ignores the teasing in your tone, "God forbid someone else tries to make off with you."

[mortiskiller]

How I Manage Food Costs as a Feedist

Preface: I often see people in this community post about struggling with food insecurity and managing food costs. These are just some tips that have helped me when I was down to the last few dollars and needed to eat for a few weeks. I understand circumstances are different for everyone, and some people struggle even with this level of food security, I have been there. My intention is to help.

With food prices still high—often due to profit gouging—I’ve found ways to manage my food budget, and the secret is simple: **eat at home!** Growing up in extreme poverty with two working parents, eating at home was pretty much our only option, aside from takeout once every few months. My parents taught me the value of home cooking, and while it takes time to develop essential skills, Making sauces, learning how to prep and clean ingredients, cooking veggies, preparing meats, etc., once you have them, there’s a whole world of recipes within reach.

Here’s how I manage food costs, and how you can too:

1. Weekly/Monthly Shopping Essentials

Start with the basics—items you’ll need to shop for regularly to cover your meals for a week or two. Building a pantry depends on the storage space you have, but here are some key ingredients to keep on hand:

- Milk (1 to 2 gallons, depending on your choice—I go with 1%)

- Eggs (18 count)

- Bread (1 loaf) (I also recommend tortillas as they last longer than bread and can be used for nearly any bread needs)

- Rolls or Croissants (If you shop at a bulk store, you can get a dozen for $6.)

- Fruits: Change with the season, but apples, oranges, and grapes are solid year-round choices. In the summer, throw in some berries and stone fruit.

- Veggies for Prep: Stick to simple, versatile veggies like green bell peppers, zucchini, onions, potatoes, and chilies.

- Butter: Unsalted sweet cream butter is my favorite! Go for sticks instead of tubs for a better per-unit cost.

- Leafy Greens: A bag of spinach or romaine hearts

- Cheese: Shredded cheese works best and if you want to save more, buy a block and slice or shred it yourself.

These staples give you a variety of flavors, textures, and nutrition to build meals around, whether you’re whipping up sides, salads, or more complex dishes.

2. Protein, Protein, Protein!

Protein is an essential part of a healthy diet, but you don’t need to overdo it or overspend. I’ve found that chicken and tofu are some of the most affordable and versatile protein sources available (unless you’re hunting your own!). Both freeze well and can be used in a variety of recipes with different seasonings and marinades.

You can also look at beef, but stick to lean beef and fish as you do not want to pay for fat that will not end up in your food.

3. Shelf-Stable Items to Buy in Bulk

Buying in bulk can be a game changer, especially if you stock up on shelf-stable items. If you’re short on storage space, invest in an airtight tote to keep things organized. Start with common essentials like:

- Flour (Good ole AP with cover you most of the time)

- Sugar

- Baking Powder

- Baking Soda

- Brown Sugar

- Cooking Oil (I go for olive oil and canola oil)

These staples are the foundation of countless recipes and, when stored properly, can last for months or even a year.

4. Season Early, Season Often

Spices are what make food magical! You don’t need fancy brands—stick with basics that offer single-ingredient profiles. My go-to spices are:

- Salt

- Pepper

- Garlic Powder

- Onion Powder

- Thyme

- Oregano

- Paprika

- Cumin

- Cinnamon

- Chili Powder

- Vanilla Extract

- Bouillon Cubes

- Red Pepper Flakes

These spices will give you all the flavor you need to create a variety of meals without breaking the bank.

5. Canned Goods: The Unsung Hero

Canned goods are a staple in my kitchen. They offer consistent quality, low prices, and a long shelf life. Plus, they’re great for backup when fresh ingredients are low. Some key canned items to keep on hand are:

- Pinto Beans

- Crushed Tomatoes

- Tomato Paste

- Tomato Sauce

- Boiled White Potatoes

- Herring or Sardines

- Tuna

- Fruit Cocktail

- Peaches

- Pears

- Broth or Stock

These ingredients can help you create filling and versatile meals on a budget.

6. Where You Shop Matters

The store you shop at can make a huge difference in food prices. Here’s how to stretch your budget even further:

Bulk Stores: Invest in a membership at places like Sam’s Club, Costco, or BJ’s. The $100 yearly fee is usually paid for in savings after just a few trips. Protein, especially beef and fish, is almost always cheaper in bulk stores.

Walmart and Aldi: These stores are great for extras like frozen veggies, fresh produce, dairy items, and baked goods. Their prices are hard to beat!

Hope this helps and feel free to reblog or comment with your own tips and tricks!

Stick to Your List: One of the easiest ways to overspend and waste food is by shopping without a plan. Make a list, and stick to it. This will help keep your budget in check and prevent unnecessary purchases.

By following these steps, you can keep your food costs down while still eating healthy and delicious meals. The key is planning ahead, shopping smart, and keeping a well-stocked pantry!

[rodolfoparras]

Cw: 18+, blowjobs, anal play, old man price, mythological world, ritual sacrifice, virgin! Price, bottom!price, centaur!male reader

For @lieutnt 🫶🏻

Thinking about old man Price who lives in a little town terrorized by what’s known as an evil creature. In order to keep the creature at bay the towns people sacrifice a virgin every year.

However throughout the years the population has decreased so there’s just one virgin left and it’s Price, but he’s a man, and an old one at that.

But he willingly agrees to the ordeal because he doesn’t have anyone left - no friends no family so might as well end his misery.

The towns people prepare him in the best way they can; they groom him and feed him whatever he wishes to eat, all while he pretends that they aren’t setting him up for his death sentence.

The day finally comes when he is to be sacrificed and he is absolutely terrified. What if the creature thinks they’re mocking it by bringing an old man?

But Price tries to tell himself that this - death- is what he wanted in the first place so he shouldn’t have a reason to be scared.

But he can feel himself shake as he approaches the place where he is to be sacrificed. It is a dense wooded area with a small lake laying nearby, along with that it’s eerily quiet but Price sits down on his designated spot and waits for the creature to come.

He waits and waits, hears his heart beating in his chest, fingers nervously fiddling with the grass under him

All of a sudden he hears steps, that sound something akin to galloping and he freezes in place, doesn’t even dare breathe as he hears the creature approach him.

The steps come to a halt and he feels someone’s hot breath washing over his skin, can smell an earthy scent surrounding him, can even see a shadowy figure reflected onto the grassy field.

His eyes squeeze shut, fingers clutching onto tufts of grass while he silently wishes goodbye to whoever might hear or see him now.

But instead of meeting his demise he’s being flipped around and met with the sight of a man, no half man half horse. This must be the creature that’s been terrorizing his town but you don’t look anything like what he’d imagined and you certainly don’t act anything like it, when you gently cupping his cheek, eyes trailing over him as if taking him in before a contented hum escapes your lips.

Slowly but surely you’re stripping the clothes off of him, before laying him on a tree stub- the stub used for sacrifice, all while keeping a gentle hoof beneath him, essentially cushioning him from the rough surface.

He feels exposed like this, cold air caressing his bare skin and raising goosebumps all over his body.

But he doesn’t feel scared, not when you’re gentle as ever as you drag your hands over his rib cage, down to his hips before stopping at his thighs, big strong hands firmly pinning him to the stub.

You don’t say anything, maybe you don’t even know how to speak but Price likes to think that maybe you’re admiring him, that you aren’t as disgusted as he thought you’d be at having an old splayed out in front of you.

He doesn’t get to dwell on it any longer before he feels your long wet tongue languidly dragging along his shaft, and Price cries out, so loud he scares the birds that had been resting in the trees nearby. The small animals swiftly fly away as you drag your tongue across his slit, before suckling on his tip.

Your mouth is hot and ever so eager as you suck on his dick, a mess of slick and spit collecting on his skin, eagerly devorouing him like he’d devoured his last meal and Price looses himself in the feeling.

He thought that he’d be here to please but instead you’re the one buried between his thighs, taking care of this old man and he could almost cry- from pleasure - from relief and he does, fat tears rolling down his flushed cheeks as he claws at the stub beneath him.

“Please, please-“ he pleads, hands desperately reaching out as he feels you pull away from his cock.

But within seconds he’s being flipped around on the stub, ass in the air, head buried in the ground as he feels cold wet fingers caress his spine.

“Please, take me please,” he’s not even aware what he’s saying anymore mind hazy and lost in please and eager oh so eager for more “please,” he cries out into the sky, looking up at what appears to be blurry stars in his teary eyes .

You grant him his wish, working one- two- three fingers inside of him, but it’s not enough, even with the pleasant burn and strech that comes with it. He needs more, starts clawing at your hooves in desperation while muttering the words “please take me please take me,”

But you ignore his please, continuing to scissor your fingers inside of him, stretching him til he starts feeling empty even with four thick digits fucking into him,

For a second Price thinks you won’t accept him as your offering, maybe you’d gone this far and decided he wasn’t worth it and he almost breaks down right then and there, mind distraught while also hazy with pleasure, desperately fucking himself back on your fingers, and chasing whatever crumbs of pleasure you’re willing to give him.

But just as he’s about to tip over the edge you pull away but only to line up your cockhead with his entrance, before you push inside of him.

You had accepted his offering.

You had accepted him.

[buttdumplin]

Of course you want to show off the food of your hometown to the boys, but this really should have been a solo date with Kyle. Still, you manage to sneak some time together.

cw: Gaz x reader, fat latine reader, gn!reader, implied poly 141, established relationship, mexican slang word count: 1845

You throw the car into park and glance up at your rearview mirror. The three white boys smushed into the backseat push at each other to try to take a look through the window, grunts and mumbles escaping them. Kyle chuckles from the passenger seat, watching the commotion unfold.

“Are we sure this was a good idea?” you turn to Kyle, “We could have brought it back to the house for them.”

“No saben igual después de tanto tiempo, y tu bien lo sabes, tesoro,” Kyle responds, an impish smile on his face.

With a groan, you close your eyes and throw your head against the headrest. It’s the first time yall are back in your hometown for more than a week, and with all the extra time to yourselves, the plan was to eat as much good food as possible. One of your tías told you about this place, where they serve al pastor straight from the trompo, each slice almost caramelized to a delicious crunch. They’ve got the pineapple sitting on top, too. She said it was the best quality she’s seen in town to date. Even her husband won’t stop talking about it. And now here you all are, parked against the curb with the air on full blast.

Every time you’ve gone to a mom and pop shop like this, it’s been you and Kyle stepping in first. You go in with kindness and chatter, and the older ladies always helplessly swoon over Kyle. Laughter bubbles and you both eat happily, and sometimes the ladies sneak extras onto your plates. It’s a sacred time full of loud smooches, the staff going “UUUUU’ all around you, a deep blush on Kyle’s face as you wipe at the corner of his mouth with a napkin, his radiant smile set to make your heart burst. It’s perfect. It’s home.

Once you’ve scoped out a place with your own private date, then you bring your white boys over. At that point, you’ve already tried the place, showered Kyle in kisses, and built rapport with the staff. So by the time they step in, the sun drawing eyes to their paleness, the staff won’t try to upcharge you. It’s a genius pull, honestly, one you’ve done yourself with tremendous success. The white folks always have more than enough money to spare, and since they usually don’t know the prices, well that’s on them. But as you sit here in the car, listening to them point out all the little details of the shop to each other, you can’t help but wish you’d left them at home.

Kyle notices the disappointment on your face as you pick at your fingers. Try as you might to keep your face neutral, your expressions are always so easy for him to read. This is the first time your private outings have been interrupted, all because the shop is just a bit too far from the house for the tacos to travel well and your cousin had to fucking say so. He reaches for your hand, bringing it to his mouth for a kiss, waiting for you to make eye contact with him. There’s a distinct sadness in his eyes, a bittersweetness that’s never appeared on these outings before.

“Next time?” a little bit of hope cracks through his voice.

“Next time,” you swear, noticeably glum.

A thought freezes you before you can undo your belt. You reach for Kyle’s hand again, silly grin on your face, and turn around towards the other boys.

“How do you ask for the price of something?’ you ask them.

Kyle holds back his laughter at the question, squeezing your fingers with excitement. There’s joy on his face again and that’s all it takes for you to know you made the right call.

¿Cuánto cuesta?” they all say as one.

“No,” you say, your splitting with a grin, and Kyle can’t hold in his laugh. “Sorry boys, you’re staying here. Kyle and I will be right back.”

They don’t have the chance to protest or question before you’re bolting out of the car, coming around to open Kyle’s door and pull him from his seat. He lets out another loud laugh, the crinkles around his eyes sending warmth blooming in your chest. You’re both still giggling, if a little out of breath from sprinting inside, when one of the staff steps up to greet you, an older woman who's clearly enjoying the life you’re bringing into the place.

“Hola, mis niños. ¿Es su primera vez aquí? No me acuerdo haberlos visto antes, y a esas caritas las recordaría.”

“Primera vez. Un primo nos dijo de este lugar. Y nomas al verlo, se ve rebueno,” Kyle says, bringing you in closer as you wrap your arm around his waist.

“Una cita con el novio,” you tell her. It’s hard to keep a smile off your face with your sudden success, and it seems to catch in the staff member as well.

As she goes off to put in your order, Kyle helps you pack up some salsa, holding the small containers for you to scoop the goods into. You’re trying to figure out just how many containers you can fit into your hands, Kyle reminding you that you’ll need more guacamole than any salsa, when she returns with a big bag full of much smaller plastic bags of guacamole for you. Before you can even thank her, she’s handing each of you a plate with two smaller tacos, winking at you.

“Si quieren, pueden esperar ahí,” she points towards the door with her eyebrows, where there’s a couple of swings.

Walking over, you eye them a little nervously, worried about the structural integrity. The last thing you need is for it to give out on you, regardless of how nice it might be to reminisce in the seat.

“They’re welded,” Kyle whispers in your ear, “They’re solid.”

Sweet tears brim your lashes as you pull him down to cover his cheek in quick kisses. You can feel his shoulders shake with quiet mirth as he stays in place, accepting as much love as you’re willing to give him. If it were up to him, he’d never move from the spot, not even if his back starts aching or if hunger pangs strike. He’d stay pressed to you until something or someone forced him away. So for now he takes what he can.

“We should eat these before they get cold,” the false concern in your voice clear as you gently rock in the swing.

“Definitely. Wasting them would be disrespectful,” his voice low, pulling at the chain of your swing to bring you close together.

The first bite has you turning to look at each other with wide eyes, a pleasant shock bouncing between you. Words can’t do it justice. Your tía’s husband hyped these tacos up so much that you were a little worried about being disappointed. Turns out he didn’t talk about them enough. All either of you can do is let out groans as you chow down silently, Kyle’s strong arm keeping your swings connected.

“Hijo de su pinche putisima madre,” you say, gulping for breath around the sheer ecstasy of the food.

“Que chingandos fue eso?” he says, soft eyes searching yours as if you have the answer. They say food is sex, but the closest he’s ever come to feeling like this has been with you. What the fuck did they put in this. He leans back to face the woman behind the counter, “Seño, nos puede dar otras dos órdenes más porfa?”

“Ya te las puse, precioso,” she says, stepping towards him with a bulging bag in her hand, “Sabía que iban a necesitar más. El amor hace que te dé más hambre.” Before either of you can get up, she’s shoving another two little tacos into your hands, pressing a finger to her smiling lips.

You take slower bites this time, smiling at each other with cheeks bulging full of food. Now that you know what you’re in for, you’re going to savor every piece. Swings still connected, you nudge Kyle’s foot with the toe of your shoe, pressing your knee more firmly against his. He looks so at peace, his shoulders slightly scrunched as he carefully brings the food to his mouth, his nose crinkled up with delight at each bite he takes. You have the brief thought that maybe you should take a picture of this moment, but you can’t bear to tear your eyes from him. And when he turns, those big brown eyes locked on you, you’re sure you’ll never blink again.

“¿Que piensas, mi vida?” he caught your stare.

“Que te adoro,” you speak the words into his skin, kissing the arm holding your swings together.

“En aceite?”

“Clarín.”

Kyle quickly scans the room, just enough to make sure no one is looking your way, before bending and planting a tender kiss on your lips. His lips taste faintly of salt and fat, just as yours surely do, and you wish you could deepen the kiss, wanting more of the delectable combination. But he pulls away before you can, hunger for you burning in his eyes.

His voice is rough when he speaks again, tongue peeking out in search of the lingering taste of you, “We should get back to them.”

“When we get home?” your voice so breathless you barely recognize it as your own.

Kyle nods and stands, holding the bag of food in front of him, trying to discreetly adjust his pants. You’re both giggling again as he reaches for you, gently helping you up from the swing. Smiles are still stuck in place when you reach the car, slipping into your seats without saying another word.

You pause for a moment, waiting for some kind of commentary from the backseat. Now that you’re back in the car, you can look over and see that the swings are in clear sight of the car. A glance up at the rearview mirror shows you three grinning faces, each one more knowing than the next. They could dog you, tease you, joke about the scene they surely saw. But they don’t. Instead, Simon’s tummy breaks the silence, a loud rumble echoing through the car.

The entire car bursts into peals of laughter, the racket interrupted only long enough to deal out plates and servings. Kyle was right about the guacamole, as the boys pour entire little baggies of it on their tacos. Can’t blame them, honestly. That shit is creamy. And then a corus of moans breaks out in the backseat, first bites hitting hard enough to make the most stoic of them break into delight. You look over at Klye, find him already looking at you, and you both nod enthusiastically, biting into your food.

“We’re coming back,” he says, and then lower, “Just us next time.”

“Fuck yeah we are, that was set in stone the moment the woman greeted us. Gotta show off my boyfriend again,” you wink at him.

[pricegouge]

Fatted Rabbit Part One on AO3

Contents

Bearshifter!Price x reader | explicit

The car park is empty save one Jeep, hatch open and guarding the owner's back as she pats down her bare chest with a wet cloth, eyes nervous and wary as she watches for intruders. She doesn't spot him at first, too worried about the road and the trail head. She wrings out her cloth and then dips to wet it again in a pail of soapy, steaming water. The motion showcases her ample chest and her soft belly and his tongue lolls. She puts on her shirt and her hands move to her belt, undoing it quickly as she checks her surroundings again for intruders. He only notices he's been spotted when the hands on her zipper go completely still. He raises his gaze to her face and huffs at the look of pure terror he finds there. Not gonna hurt you, honey, he wants to tell her, but he's not entirely sure that's accurate anyway. Suddenly, it's like he's fresh off his torpor again, all beast. The only problem is, he's not sure if he wants to eat her or fuck a cub into her. She smells divine, but he can't deny the way her thick body makes his cock twitch. Good mate, stayed so soft all through the winter. He's not entirely sure what he wants, except closer, but when he puts one massive paw in front of the other, the poor rabbit yips and hops back into her little burrow, hatch slamming behind her as she scrambles further into her tentative safety. Curious, John ambles closer, stands with his paws on her car door to peer in at her. 

A/N: no warning for this chapter but later chapters will include: explicit sex, past DV, kidnapping, canon-typical violence, some angst and a bit of a wump but very fluffy overall and I promise a happy ending (at least for John/Bunny)

Spring creeps into the den subtly, slowly, easily. Normally there's some pushes and pulls, a tide that rolls in and muddles his instincts before retreating, leaving him cold and tired once more. It plays nice this year, settles humid and warm in his fur like fingers, a coaxing kind of wake up call that has him chuffing and stirring still a week or so too early to venture out. It's nice, though, this slow ascent to proper consciousness. Has his memory stirring in ways he can't usually process when he's in this form - vague feelings and sensory memories: sun warm sheets, honey on toast. He slips in and out of wakefulness, the steady drip of snow melt counting the days in thirty second intervals. The ground warms, looses its frozen scents for his inspection, a chronicle of the months he'd lost to his torpor: an arid winter, northerly snows, a fox burrow maybe a kilometer uphill. He sleeps some more. 

There's a stream about an hour's hike north of the den. Shallow and wide, it never completely freezes, but John knows it is time to greet the new year when it overflows its bed. It wakes him slowly for the last time, the sound of its gurgling having changed to an echoing rush and what that implies is not immediately obvious to him in this state. He's digging into the mud of his den, trying to find a softer bed to cushion his sore hips when he realizes, and he chuffs in annoyance at his own sluggish brain. If the creek has already overflowed its banks, that burrow is likely empty by now. So much for an easy breakfast. 

He's too grumpy to properly marvel in the new year. He notes it in little ways as he stalks the forest - the pale sun warming his coat, the pungent mud revealing the path of his next meal - but he is still too groggy to properly appreciate the beauty. It's like this every year, which is the main reason he decides to overwinter in this form. Staying human has its perks, the ease with which he can stock and maintain a warm, safe den not least of which; but these first few weeks of remembering how to function, when instinct and hunger drive him more than rational thought, are difficult to navigate as a human. For him, early spring is a time to check his perimeters, ensure no other boars have encroached on his turf. John Price's domain is Columbia Falls and the areas surrounding it. He can't very well go around pissing on buildings and gouging knife marks into anything that stands still long enough. Hard to explain away stumbling into the nearest diner like a zombie and ordering uncooked greens and steak. Best to leave these beastly urges to his beast form, in the mountains and valleys of the park he's come to claim over the last ten years.

The days are still short, the forest slow in waking. A lazy start the world over, it seems. It takes him days to completely shake off the dregs of his torpor and he loses whole hours at a time, comes to shoulder deep in freezing streams or wetting his muzzle in the blood of a calf. He hopes he isn't cutting too close to the early campers when he's like this. He makes for a big goddamn bear, a right anomaly, draws attention. He hates to be spotted, would hate even more for his hunger to win out while his humanity is still so far beyond his grasp.

Cutting a long, circuitous track around the lands he's claimed, he takes his time about it. It takes him nearly two full weeks, but by the time he's at his northernmost point, he's mostly remembered how to be a human. He gives it a shot sometimes, while hiding in the caves he's emptied. He can't stay himself for too long, still too cold and damp for a naked human, but it's nice to stretch his back out properly, clean his teeth with nails. By the time he makes it back south to West Glacier, he's ready to find his clothes where he'd hid them on the outer edge of town and rejoin society, chomping at the bit for real human interaction. Maybe that's why he doesn't skirt the car park as well as he should. He's been a creature of instinct for months by now, if his basic need is just a simple, warm smile, it makes sense that he'd seek out the areas of the park most likely to find it. 

He smells her before he spots her: warm skin and honey, artificial strawberry scent and a natural musk that has his mouth watering. Human, must be - racoons didn't often use scented soaps - he ought to steer clear, especially if her scent is already having this effect. He's never lost control and killed a human, doesn't want to ruin his streak today. But he's base driven, an instinctual animal, and he's padding along before he can really even think it over. He clambers through springy undergrowth, chuffing excitedly when he finds undisturbed greens. It's his final warning before he ventures onto high traffic areas: the green fences denoting areas in which small game is too timid to linger. He simply eats those too and carries on. 

The car park is empty save one Jeep, hatch open and guarding the owner's back as she pats down her bare chest with a wet cloth, eyes nervous and wary as she watches for intruders. She doesn't spot him at first, too worried about the road and the trail head. She wrings out her cloth and then dips to wet it again in a pail of soapy, steaming water. The motion showcases her ample chest and her soft belly and his tongue lolls. She puts on her shirt and her hands move to her belt, undoing it quickly as she checks her surroundings again for intruders. He only notices he's been spotted when the hands on her zipper go completely still. He raises his gaze to her face and huffs at the look of pure terror he finds there. Not gonna hurt you, honey, he wants to tell her, but he's not entirely sure that's accurate anyway. Suddenly, it's like he's fresh off his torpor again, all beast. The only problem is, he's not sure if he wants to eat her or fuck a cub into her. She smells divine, but he can't deny the way her thick body makes his cock twitch. Good mate, stayed so soft all through the winter. He's not entirely sure what he wants, except closer, but when he puts one massive paw in front of the other, the poor rabbit yips and hops back into her little burrow, hatch slamming behind her as she scrambles further into her tentative safety. Curious, John ambles closer, stands with his paws on her car door to peer in at her. 

She's got the back seat torn out, a soft mattress taking up the raised stage area there. Likely some storage underneath. Instead of a passenger seat, a neat little shelf houses a cooler and a hot plate along with some kitchen essentials, from which she's grabbed a knife. He chuffs a laugh, breath steaming the window. He sniffs along its seal, wondering how long she's been hiding away in this paltry den. Few weeks, maybe. A month. She must be cold, poor rabbit, no bucks to keep her warm. She looks on the verge of tears now, and he lowers in sympathy. He should clear out, let her be, but he's addicted to the way her chest rises with each labored breath. He wants to nuzzle there, let her run her fingers through his hair as he kisses and bites and-. Oh, that's human. He wants to be human for that. Good. Means he doesn't really want to eat her. 

Still, always good to leave an impression. 

So he stalks around the Jeep for a while longer, careful to keep his movements as calm and non-threatening as they can be. She loosens up eventually, drops her knife when it's obvious he's not going to roll her little house right over. He wonders why she hasn't driven off yet and then spots her keys on the ground next to her rapidly cooling bath water. Bad luck, that. He debates waiting her out just so he can show he's trustworthy, but he figures she's got a whole den, and he's got a car park so he'd probably lose that venture. Ah well, he has her scent now. He'll be able to find her again. For good measure, he marks her car, chuffing in laughter when he can hear her complain about it. He hides in the tree line after he leaves. She waits another half hour or so before cautiously opening her hatch and retrieving her items, dumping the soapy water on the gravel. Illegal, that, but at least it's not the grass. Once she has her keys, she doesn't hesitate to pull out. John lingers close to the road and watches her watching him as she passes, her eyes more curious than scared now. Brave rabbit. Smart rabbit. Juicy little thing. 

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