#capt price

[red5cars]

i've been thinking a lot about stripper!reader x pricenik so here's price and reader meeting for the first time

you're tired.

you're always tired but especially tonight, bones aching, legs sore, face strained from smiling at men whose eyes veer lower. it's a good thing though, while the half-lidded gaze on your face may come off as seductive it is nothing but pure exhaustion.

as your hands trail over patrons, curving your body this way and arching it the other, you run through the night. playing through it to see how much money you made. you got called over to a group twice, letting them tuck various bills against the waistband of your panties. they brought you on stage, albeit in a group. the newcomers got better tips than you, and you swore you heard one of the regulars say you needed to retire (which is ironic because he looks like he has one foot in the grave).

all that on top of the barest of bare minimum wages, your total for tonight is: not enough.

the loud bass of the club hides the grumble of your stomach, trying to sway to the music as if you aren't about to topple over. there are less people than they were an hour ago, men retreating back to their wives as if they weren't squirming under someone else's stare.

briefly, you think back to earlier on stage, and maybe that man has a point. you should retire. well. quit in this case. unlike him, you're nowhere near the age to retire. you can't imagine living out the rest of your days like this, performing till the day you die. breaking your neck taking a wrong step in your heels, slipping in the middle of a performance.

the calling of your name, stage name, breaks you out of your morbid mindset. the bouncer by the private rooms nods at you, gesturing for you to go inside. it's a distraction from your head, but not a nice one.

as you pass the man, he tells you the room number. four. not your usual station, but the couch there is a bit nicer. and velvet.

pulling back the curtain, you find him already waiting. he's a decent lookin man, mutton chops connecting to a ‘stache, with a slightly receding hairline. where his looks excel is with his body, a stereotypical show of masculine faith. if you were new, you'd find him charming.

if only.

throwing on a coy smile, you drop the curtain behind you, feeling it brush your exposed body, "usually i'm the first one in here.”

his eyes meet yours, a light color unknown due to the harsh violet that shrouds the room. his mustache curves, eyes crinkling at your statement, “i was eager to sit.”

funny. so were you.

you slowly move towards him, hips swaying in that way most guys love. his eyes watch you carefully, one of his hands resting on his leg, fingers drumming against his knee cap.

the space between his legs is filled by you, looking down at the man before you, "mind if i take a seat?' a classic. men love having a pretty thing perched in their lap, to have something so beautiful within arms reach appealing.

"not at all," muttonchops shuffles in his seat, moving to the side and patting the space next to him.

for a moment, you wonder if you're seeing things, if his hand meant to gesture there instead of his lap. that being said, you don't get paid to wonder. hiding your confusion, you take the seat beside him, leaning against the back of the couch.

"so, what brings you here mister.." the word hangs off your tongue as you tilt your head, elbow pressed against the couch while you brace your cheek against your fist. even as you shift in your seat, his eyes never leave your face, haven't left your face since the moment you walked in. "john," he responds, repositioning himself so he doesn't have to twist his head to the side to stare, "and you are?"

you shake your head playfully, "i asked you a question first. think it's fair you answer it before you ask your own," the toe of your heel pokes at his leg, eyes darting to the appendage smoothly. so he can look elsewhere.

he shrugs, "fair. well," he crosses his arms, staring at the ceiling, "i'm here 'cause.. i want to be," it's cheeky, his answer and the stare he sends your way after.

"that's pretty vague," you pout, leading him to chuckle, the baritone echoing in your ear, "i s'pose it is. now," he mirrors your pose, opting to rest his arm on the back of the couch. "your name?"

a part of you doesn't want to give it to him, extend more of this banter, but guys are only here for one thing, and you'd rather get it over with, "dolly." one of his eyebrows raise at that, "dolly?" he parrots it back at you, and you nod.

john hums, staring deep into your eyes before breaking out into a smile, "that's pretty," and his smile is warm enough to almost flatter you. almost.

"you say that to all the girls, john?" his name is said in a huskier tone, slowly beginning to closing the distance as you lean towards him. john remains unphased, not moving an inch, "only the pretty ones," it comes off more matter the fact than cheeky, but you don't let it dissuade you.

instead, you just grin, inching closer to him, "well, i'm glad you think i am," a hand comes up to caress his face, brushing his cheek. there's something in your eyes, it being hard to read due to the lights. you get even closer, your chest nearly touching his-

"think we can save the touchin' for some other time, dolly?"

your whole body stills, the request taking you aback but john just looks down at you sweetly, like a parent gently chiding a child. slowly, your hand retreat from his face, sitting back a little. the shift earns an approving hum from john, "good girl. now," he adjusts in his seat, arm laying over the back of the couch again. this time it brushes your shoulders, "heard them say y'were a good listener. that the truth?" he fishes a carton of cigarettes from his jacket pocket, opening it with one hand and grabbing a cigarette.

"..yes," a meek response, all your focus on him. like how he places the cigarette between his lips, fetching a lighter from his coat. the sound of it igniting echoes in the small room, the warm light of the flame letting you see the detail of his lips.

capping it, he tucks the lighter back into his pocket, inhaling before prying the cigarette from his lips, smoke billowing past his lips.

what feels like hours becomes seconds as his eyes are back on you, an easy smile on his face, "think y'can listen to an old muppet and his woes?" it's teasing, like he's daring you to say no.

your head begins to nod, but his eyes narrow, only softening when you reply with an audible "yes."

"good," is all he says before bringing the cigarette back to his mouth, taking another puff before recounting his grievances.

----

you're having one of those weird dreams again.

you got invited into one of the private rooms, but the client didn't want to touch you, nor the other way around. all he wanted to do was talk, ramble on about his miseries, how his marriage is falling apart and the domestic life isn't made for a man like him.

what an odd character for your mind to make up. usually, it's someone more violent, cruel. but for once, he seems normal.

dolly.

maybe even nice.

dolly.

slowly, your eyes blink open, someone rousing you form your stupor. looking to the side, there's a man beside you. he matches the man from your dreams; bushy mustache, thick muttonchops, caterpillar eyebrows and-

this man isn't from your dreams. he's from the club. from the present.

you jolt awake, leaning away from him. hands automatically come to fix yourself, your lips stumbling over apologies -i'm sorry i- i'm so so sorry i didn't mean to.

you don't know how it happened. one moment, you were nodding along to his words and the next? you nodded off. fuck, he's probably going to complain to the manager, make him cut your pay for being so negligent with a client.

you can hardly hear john over your own frantic apologies, having to direct your attention back to him by touching your shoulder, "hey, hey, stay with me pretty, you're okay."

it takes you longer than you like to calm down, john guiding you through a couple of breaths. once your breathing is even, he speaks again, "do you want to sleep?"

guilt gnaws at you because yes, you do want to sleep, desperately. you're exhausted, having worked endlessly for little to money, but you also don't want to lose it by literally sleeping on the job.

"no," the response makes john's stare harden, like earlier, and you know there's only one way to revert it, "..yes."

like clockwork, his gaze softens, his hand falling from your shoulder, "okay," is all he has to say.

he readjusts the two of you, positioning yourselves like earlier. your head rests against his shoulder, and you realize john has to slump a little more in his seat to make it so. swallowing down the lump in your throat, you begin to open your mouth but john beats you to it.

"don't want to hear a peep from you, understood? just sleep, dolly," it's a command, albeit a gentle one. you're tempted to argue, to tell him that this is weird, isn't what you're meant to do, but your eyelids get heavier and heavier with each passing second, and you pass out against his shoulder.

----

the following morning, you leave work well rested, a hand on your back guiding you to your car,

and a fat wad of cash in your pocket.

[elovin]

Fuck being a pixie for right now i just had an amazing idea for an oc for the monster au of call of duty.

A manticore shifter/hybrid. Pretending to be completely human. Acting as a medic for team 141.

(Its also kind of an oc for a poly team 141 fic called a hybrid’s emotions. Dont judge, its taking forever for em to update (cause they are rewriting it) and i started day dreaming which lead to this)

This manticore shifter kind of ignores/stays away from the team quite abit to avoid being caught as a manticore. This is because manticores are typically a kill on sight creature.

The team is all really into her. She is strong, level headed, and doesn’t really take any bullshit. She however tends to ignore their advances. She doesn’t want to get close and reveal she is a manticore.

In this fic/au/oc universe manticores are solitary and do NOT take kindly to being ordered around. This is evident in Ember’s tendency to nearly bite off people’s heads when they order her around. She listens to very few people and was infact assigned to Price’s team as a way of disciplining her.

Her thing is she refuses to listen to anyone weaker/lesser than her. She joined at the same time as price lost his wing and ghost got ghosted. She saw their strength and figured she could trust them to lead her properly.

This was also where she got her code name ember.

Typically she is a medic. She avoids fighting. Not because she cant fight or because of some pacifist reason. She has a hard time holding back and controlling her strength.

She helped patch price up on the scene and haul him back. Meaning she had to go in and retrieve him. Price had temporarily passed out as a result of losing so much blood. Ghost was incoherent and chasing the man who buried him alive after tearing through a good chunk of the people there.

Meaning ember was unsupervised and surrounded with a a downed teammate. So she let loose. When price came to she had burnt the place down to embers and was in the process of crushing a man’s skull. This was how she earned her callsign.

That was also how price came to realize how much she was holding back and why. He never pushes her when she refuses to spar with teammates. He lets her keep her distance as long as she listens to orders.

[twoandahalfdimes]

save me mother and father figures...

save me laswell and capt. price...... my mother and father... UAGAHAJDFFKKFKFKFKFKFMALOD

[merkitty49]

So I don’t really know what came over me (who rarely does). I had an idea and I had to write it. My fandom is Star Wars, The Bad Batch, and I normally write pretty detailed stories with lots of research. This story is “type it out as fast as you can before the kids wake up or they come ask you for a snack”

“type it out as fast as you can before your husband comes into the room and asks what you are doing.”

There is a perspective change but that’s just how it flowed. I don’t question the creativity gods when they give me a gift.

This is my imagination, not a lot of detail and probably wrong about a lot of things, so don’t come at me. Fill in the blanks with what you like!

Taskforce 141 X Reader

ClubOwnerPrice! x female reader

CW: mentions of criminal activity, kissing, mentions of alcohol, drinking.

Slight age gap between John and Reader (you get to pick!)

WC:2K

ClubOwner! John Price who not only deals in clubs but other things slightly dodgy (gambling, money laundering, weapons deals, etc). But never anything against women or children. He has his own crew, Soap who mans the bar, bartenders, and servers. Gaz who manages the bar and entertainment- DJ’s, dancers, and occasionally performers. And Ghost is the enforcer. He’s in charge of security cameras, bouncers, and keeping out the underaged patrons. He knows they have a fake ID but can still tell by a nervous twitch, their jugular vein throbbing too quickly, or a too eager date. He’s quick to handle men or women that are too drunk and are either embarrassing themself or being too agresive or emotional. He always has a few cabs lined up to take them home.

John had been talking with his boys over cigars and shots, about how he had enough money to go legit. He just needed a way to own his own building and maybe open another one, but he didn’t want to do it in his name. He knew enough about lawyers and cops that they could do “financial forensics”. Such a fancy phrase for screwing up his business.

The boys think on it for a few days when a gaggle of business class looking women stumble into the club and gather at the counter. They’re screaming and laughing, all but one, who looks a little out of place. After the rowdy group is served, Soap manages to talk to the shy one. Turns out she is an accountant. Works for a firm but also her uncle who raised her. He asks her a few questions about business entities, lawyers, and liability. Her eyes light up with enthusiasm rather than the drinks and she starts talking a mile a minute and drawing diagrams on napkins. Soap is chuckling internally at her nerdiness.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” she asks.

“No, bonnie. I just have no idea what you’re talkin’ ‘bout.” Soap, such a pretty face.

She starts to wilt a little with a tight smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “I’m sorry I’m wasting your time,” she says.

“Nonono! Bonnie, it’s not fa me! It’s for me boss. He’s gonna ken more what you’re talkin’ bout than me.”

Soap looks up to the big one way mirror overlooking the club and points to the woman sitting next to him. He gives a thumbs up sign and decides to bring her upstairs. She’s clearly nervous as Soap brings her down a long hallway, around some corners, and up the stairs. Ghost, with a black surgical mask on eyes her up and down before he pats her down, eliciting a squeak from her in her inebriated state.

She’s greeted with the strong smell of cigars and cologne and a strikingly handsome, bearded man seated in a set of club chairs. He rises from his chair and goes to greet her, taking in her clubbing attire which isn’t overly sexy like her companions that came with her.

“Soap here thinks I need to meet you. What is it you do, Miss…?” John says as he guides her to sit down.

His heady aroma short circuited her brain for a moment and she stares at his expensive suit and glass of scotch on the table. She’s in the big leagues now.

She gives him a brief overview of what she does and Soap hands him the napkin she had been drawing on. He nods, sagely, gives her a smile, and says, “Let’s meet tomorrow for a late lunch, my treat.” He gives her a business card and Soap escorts her out of the room. On her way out Gaz is coming in to join Price and she just about walks into the door jamb because she’s staring at Gaz while he is passing through the door, entranced by the beauty of his dark skin and dazzling smile.

“Whoah, steady there, Love,” he says to her as he places a hand on her shoulder.

“Och, hands off the lass, Garrick,” Soap teases with a wink.

Her bewilderment is apparent as she looks between the handsome faces of Soap, Gaz and the last glimpse of Price, chuckling at her as she leaves.

You woke up in your bed with a groan, and then a gasp. Did last night really happen? You met the club owner of one of the most popular clubs in the city AND he wants to have a meeting with you because you opened your mouth and blabbered away like a nerd about TAXES?! You groaned into your pillow and kicked your feet under the covers. This was crazy.

You get ready, making yourself look as professional as you can, but no bun. You bring a pad of paper and pen, and pep talk yourself in the mirror. “I can do this. It’s just a business meeting.”

Your jaw drops when you see the place where John has decided to have the late lunch. It’s reservation only, of course, and way out of your pay grade. The maitré de warmly calls your name and takes you to a small table where John is already seated in a dapper suit. “How did he know my name?” you ask yourself.

”I ordered for you, I hope you don’t mind,” he says with a charming smile as you’re seated.

The lunch is amazing, and the conversation is even better. You don’t come across as too nerdy to John, just passionate, he says, making you blush a little. You were always teased in school and never called passionate.

So it’s agreed. You will work with John and your firm to handle the paperwork of transferring ownership of his club to a trust. Each club will be owned by a LLC, under a made up name. “Nana’s Pie, LLC, and Poppa’s Brew, LLC” are the names you come up with. When a lawyer comes to look and see who owns it, those are the names they will find and not be able to go any further. Each one is a separate business entity, managed by another company, again, without John’s name on it anywhere. Then there is another Trust set up, managed by a lawyer’s firm, and of course, he can’t give out any client information. John is named as an employee, and receives salary from the Trust. He’s so tickled with himself that he says the place is under new management. “I have no idea who bought the place. Some shady firm, but they are letting me stay on as manager of it.”

With a conspiratorial wink he tells his men the owner was thinking of opening up another club and wanted him to manage that one too.

What started out as a small lunch with John Price, introducing him to Tax Management and Asset Protection, turns into many late afternoon business meetings with him and his men. Take away is ordered at his office as he completes paperwork and begins on building plans for the new club. You’re seen around the club during the day time hours so often the boys suggest to John that he hire you full time. Each one of them takes turns chauffeuring you from the club back to your house. Sundays are spent hanging out with Gaz, or Kyle, as you learn his name, Johnny, and Simon, the silent one. He used to creep you out with his staring, but now you know it’s just his manner. He speaks through action and body language.

The afternoon lunches, mid morning meetings, and lazy Sundays have you feeling comfortable with John. It doesn’t slip past his notice how you gaze at him or hold your breath when he walks up to you. Or how you cling to his arm when he guides you inside a restaurant. He winks at you, knowing it makes you flustered. The boys will make any excuse to make you sit next to John, or have you walk in front of them so they can ogle your ass. John gives them a flick on the shoulder (or head if it’s Soap) when they act like dogs. “Bunch of muppets, don’t know how to treat a lady,” he mutters under his breath.

It’s all part of their plan either way. They like you, John really likes you, and they know you like John. You didn’t think you were being that obvious, but longevity breeds familiarity. That’s why you’re only a tiny bit surprised when John shows up at your door one evening in the middle of the week with a bouquet of flowers. You hope he can’t hear the racing of your heart and your internal screaming. He’s always lavished you with gifts and favors- picking up the tab for your girls’ night out with your friends, upgrading your laptop, bringing you bracelets since you favor those more than purses. He’ll bring in the chocolates you mentioned that are hard to find and will give you a bottle of wine for the weekend.

He looks nervous but no more than you since you’re in lounging clothes and your hair done up in a messy bun. You invite him in while you put the flowers in water and change clothes quickly. You pick a modest dress that you normally wouldn’t wear to work. John smiles as you come out and says that he actually liked your hair up in the bun. You oblige, and put it up quickly, but still in a flattering way.

Dinner is great. John takes you to the same expensive restaurant and the maitré de smiles warmly at you. You wonder how many other women he has brought here, but quickly brush that thought away, deciding to live in the moment. Conversation flows like it normally does with John telling a little about himself and the boys from before the club. They were all in the same unit together with John as their commanding officer. It was natural for them to follow him into civilian life, especially after too many close calls on special operations missions. They considered him and each other as family and would do anything for each other.

Towards the end of the evening and the date, you and John take a stroll through the hotel gardens. He holds your hand and you let him lead you as you take in the beautiful flowers and lights.

“I’ve been out of practice for a while and frankly, haven’t had the time to pursue anyone,” John says.

It suddenly dawns on you that he “knows” you like him. Heat creeps up your neck and face as you keep your eyes lowered and focused on anything but his face.

“You know I’m a man of action. I get an idea and make it happen.”

At this point he places his knuckle under your chin to raise your eyes to his brilliant blue one.

“I’ve been enjoying all our time together besides all the business talk. And you’re more important than any of those things. You’ve been so amazing since the night I met you and I think, no, I know I’m falling for you.”

He pauses as he runs a finger down the side of your face and continues.

“I think you feel the same way and I want to know, if you do, will you be my girlfriend?”

Your heart is racing and your mouth is dry. You swallow and bite your bottom lip before you respond with an enthusiastic “Yes!”

He grins with happiness as he touches his forehead to yours, creating an even more intimate space. “I’ve been dying to kiss you. Can I?” he asks as his eyes crinkle.

You nod your head and he cradles the side of your face with his hand and the other rests on your hip. His lips are warm and soft while his whiskers are prickly against your skin. The taste of his mouth and smell of his skin are just divine as your lips mingle with his. You’re breathless when the kiss ends, and you’re hoping you don’t appear too much like a schoolgirl with a kiss from her crush.

He kisses you again before you leave the garden area and return to the valet for his car. You try to hide your smile on the way home but John knows you’re happy. When he leaves you at your door, he gives you another heartstopping kiss and says he will see you tomorrow.

John leaves with a smile on his face and is already planning your engagement party.

[joliejoles]

Today I offer you, capt Price going through it. Tomorrow? Who knows. Maybe nothing.

[red5cars]

john price with his ‘jane doe’ reader.

you wake up in a bed thats not your own, in a house you know you can’t afford. at the end of that bed is a man, a disheveled stranger.

fear clouds confusion, as you wonder where you are, who you are.

he’s quick to reassure you, saying he found you by the river, an inch from death. he would’ve taken you to a hospital, but the closest one is nearly an hour out, and that was a risk he couldn’t take.

strangely enough, his words have a calming effect on you. despite having met him a mere minute ago, you can’t help but feel a sense of familiarity. a face that has no name, the john to your jane.

he offers you to stay with him while you recover, and while you’re tempted to say ‘no’, there’s no denying you can’t take care of yourself. hell, you don’t even know yourself.

so you say yes, and he promises to take care of you.

for as long as you need.

he leaves out the part about how he has been taking care of you, coming up on three months now. he didn’t know that slamming your head down on the ground would reset that memory of yours.

if he knew sooner, he wouldn’t have had to chase you through the woods.

still, it’s worth it, the concussion providing him with another chance. to make you truly his.

and if he so much as has an inkling that you’re starting to remember.

well, he knows what to do.

[red5cars]

cw: cheating (against reader)

imagine being kyle’s partner. met him at some bar a few months back, the one night stand turning into two. then four. then more.

it’s jarring to see how where you two are now. sure, he was a good fuck, but he’s an even better boyfriend. everyone you know loves him, and everyone he knows loves you.

well, except price.

and it would be so much easier to ignore him if he wasn’t so significant to kyle. boss, captain, father figure. if kyle puts you on a pedestal, he has built a shrine for price.

fondness that teeters on obsession.

still, it’s not your place to say anything. he’s probably just looking out for him! after all, you’ve heard about his nasty divorce (it was kyle who told you. you can count the amount of conversations you’ve had with price on one hand), and that he just wants the best for his sergeant. his son.

so you leave it. whatever is between them is none of your business. besides, the worst thing price has done is send you a sharp glare. there’s absolutely nothing to be worried about.

until you catch your boyfriend on his knees for his captain, face pressed right into john’s pubic hair. his adam’s apple is more pronounced, thanks to the thick cock jammed in his throat.

it seems his adoration leaned more towards affection then.

[red5cars]

minors + ageless blogs dni or you will be blocked.

“could i... perhaps.... indulge you on bear hybrid price... and breeding kink. but not like, just stuffing you full, i'm talking round of his seed just overflowing... 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️” - ask from anon

oh boy..

bunny!reader who stumbles across a beautiful patch in the forest. it’s a nice set up, lush greenery, some flowers to nibble and admire, and a stream that provides plenty of water.

and most importantly, the land is empty. no predators, or prey. just your cute little cottontail and no one else.

it quickly becomes your home, spending your days laying down in the shrubbery, skipping by the stream, and eating your fill in plants. a perfect routine you plan on sticking to until you die.

at least, that’s what you thought it would be like, until you found out why this patch was so empty.

it happens on a rainy day, and while the feeling of water running down your fur and skin is enjoyable, the downpour is harsh today. in need of shelter, you quickly seek out the nearest cave, finding one hidden in plain sight. it’s covered by vines and moss, blending into the greenery. thankfully, you’re able to pick out such things, it’s how you found this place after all.

stepping inside, you realize how dark and cold it is, a shiver making your ears stand up. at the very least, you wouldn’t have to be here for more than a few hours. what’s the worse that could happen?

it seems the answer chuffs behind you, a growl making your body stiffen.

as you turn your head over your shoulder, your met with the grizzly sight of a large bear hybrid. your ears drop, fear running through you as the beast stares you down.

“anyone ever told you about trespassing, bun?” he asks, his deep voice rattling your bones.

somehow, you manage to shake your head, stammering, “i-i didn’t know this was.. i thought.. i-“

“thought wha’, hm?” he asks, his tone bordering on condescending, “thought this little patch was yours for the taking,” there’s a hint of smile in his tone, and you see it as he emerges from the shadows.

with every step he takes forward, you take one back, hoping to reach the entrance of the cave.

“n-no,” it comes out naturally, a defensive response. the bear just chuckles, shaking his head.

“oh bunny.. poor stupid bunny,” the dim light from outside glints against his fangs, canines that are waiting to be sunk into your flesh.

“everything in this little section of the forest is mine, from the trees,“ he gestured above your head, but you don’t dare turn around. it would be unwise to give him an opening.

“the grass, and even the little stream like you to hop in,” a chill runs down your spine. it never occurred to you he was watching, eying his next meal.

with one more step, you find yourself close to the entrance. but it seems he redirected your path, feeling the hard wall of the cave hit you instead of the rain’s humidity.

his whole body cages you, keeping trapped.

“and now.. you do too.”

——

you knew he was going to devour you, just not like this.

the bear, price, has you pinned down with an arm on your lower back, stomach glued to the cold floor as his tongue glides up and down your slick cunt.

even with his weight on you, your instincts scream at you to move. to run away and never look back.

“quit yer squirming, bun,” price commands, growls. the low timbre of his voice adds vibrations to your pussy, causing you to do the opposite of what he said. a quiet squeal leaves your lips, ears stretched far back behind you in embarrassment.

even though you defied a direct order, he doesn’t punish you. instead, he goes back to eating it, eating you, your sopping wet cunt.

you can’t even recall how you got into this position, all you remember is the bear claiming you as his, telling you his name, and then wrestling you down into the floor.

..so maybe you can recall how you got here.

after another agony of his long licks, price pulls away from your cunt. it’s completely drenched in his spit, and you bet it smells more like his mouth than you.

“think you’re ready now,” he grunts, and despite the haze his tongue has placed you in, alarm bells ring in your head again. swiftly, you manage to turn, eyes wide, “r-ready for wha-“

your question is cut off as something big is shoved inside of you, your meek voice shifting into something closer to a scream.

just like everything about him, it’s big. it feels like he’s burrowing himself inside you, which is ironic considering his species. it’s just all too much far too quickly.

“p-price pull out pl-please,” you beg, and not even the earlier pleasure can outdo the pain. but he doesn’t pull out. in fact, it seems your pleading spurs him on, trying to shove even more (was there more?!) of himself inside of you.

“can’t do that bun,” he huffs, squishing your cottontail as he practically rests his full weight on you, “gotta claim you.”

and with that, he moves.

it’s brutal, the way he slams home into your tight pussy. it’s almost like being stabbed, except the blade is thicker and more meaty and not a blade at all but probably the fattest cock you’ve ever felt-

it seems price can pick up on your pain, tasting it on his tongue (amongst other things). with one hand, he manages to cant your hips, snaking a paw in between them.

“being too mean, aren’t i?” he says almost effortlessly, not a hint of strain in his voice despite the robust movement of his hips, “soft thing like you isn’t used to this type of breeding..”

as a sign of mercy, his fingers play with your clit, pinching and rubbing the bud.

and oh, does that help.

instead of focusing on the harsh piston of his hips, he offers pleasure, toying with your little button, rolling it between his fingers, putting enough pressure to have you squeaking.

it pulls sounds out of you that you never knew you could make and sentences that consist of pleasepleaseplease and moremoremore.

it seems price revels in your enjoyment too, grunting harder as your insides clench on his length with a vice-like grip.

“yeah? you like that, bun? you always turn into a slut when someone flicks that little button of yours? hm?”

despite his patronizing tone, you’re unable to deny his claims. instead, you meet his questions with moans, turning into what he describes as a cock-focused cottontail slut.

before long, the warmth in your stomach erupts like a dormant volcano, making you clench his cock in a vice-like grip. your orgasm shakes you, body rigid as you come undone under this predator.

it seems he wasn’t far along either, as price buries his face into the back of your neck, pressing himself to the hilt as a massive load of his cum spills inside you.

it’s hot and thick, making sure not to just coat your insides but also fill it. you half expect him to pull out, but price just stays sheathed inside you.

it isn’t until you feel your womb is going to burst that you finally speak up, “um.. i.. i think you should.. p-pull out..” you whimper, having to actively search for words instead of fall deeper into this haze of lust.

but it’s rare for predators to spare mercy, even rarer for them to do it twice.

“no can do bun, see” and he completely drops his weight onto you, a quiet oof exhaling from you at this, “i was pretty lonely before you showed up, and it’s been near ages since i had a mate..”

as he explains himself, you can feel his cock coming back to life, practically keep all his cum plugged deep inside of you.

“and when you wandered into my territory, i knew i had to have you,” his hips move shallowly, barely separating from you. “had to make you mine,” at this, a moan leaves your lips while a deep chuckle escapes his.

“attagirl. now,” he curls an arm under your waist, palming at your soft belly, “jus’ lie there while i make you fat with my cubs, okay bunny?”