Captain Price X Reader - Blog Posts

Haii Bunny, thank you so much for feeding all of us with your Daddy Price fics ❤️ This is gonna be super self indulgent, since my next semester starts on Monday, but could you pretty please do a piece of Daddy Price rewarding us for doing well in school?

oh starlight !! i hope and pray your semester goes smoothly, im deep into exams month so I understand completely, don’t forget to take care of yourcuteself and don’t stress too much lovely!!! Ily!

🍯 | fluff, sugar daddy!john price x college student sugar baby fem!reader, laaarge age gap, john is in his 40s and reader is 21, very cheesy n cute

“look at my good girl, all precious and sweet, doing so well in school…” john mumbles against your neck, his beard tickling your flushed skin as you giggle and try to push him away, hands pressed against his chest.

“you’re so fuckin’ cute when you study, so intelligent and smart, gonna be the death of me, angel”

you laugh softly, finding it amusing how john always got like this anytime he saw you studying — you’ve recently taken an exam you studied so hard for, and you excelled at it, and john seemed to puff his chest like typical proud men did anytime he mentioned it

“the exams aren’t over yet, daddy, im not done..” your back arched against the mattress and his huge, imposing figure loomed over yours, making you forget about your scattered notes all over the bed.

”dont care, doll, let daddy reward you for being such a good student, what do you want? new books? more skirts? plushies? just say it and it’s all yours, bunny, mmh?”

“don’t want anything,” you managed to say between half breaths and your crystalline laughter, as john kept up with his assault on your neck, leaving hungry kisses all over your collarbone, “your beard tickles, daddy, wait-”

”then let’s get your favorite ice cream, and then we can go to that store you like so much, that one, like the liquor, what’s it called…”

your eyes widened and you gave him the sweetest, most sparkling doe eyes, so sugary he just wanted to spend his entire days spoiling you rotten, “brandy??”

he grinned against your skin, inhaling your sweet, vanilla perfume that he’d gotten you last time you’d taken another exam.

“yeah, sweetheart, that one, mmh? what ya say?”

“don’t want you to spend money on me, daddy, doing good in college is my duty not a-“

“we’ll go to the bookstore,” he added, cutting you short with a sharp, deep rumble that made you rethink your last words.

oh.

“well, then…okay” you blushed, giggling when his hands slithered under your shirt and grabbed your waist tightly, pulling you against him.

“that’s my girl,” he rumbled, a low, deep praise that growled witching his throat and made you turn red — you pulled his dog chain and whined, a timid silent request to get closer and kiss you.

“I’ll get ya one of those school girl outfits you like to wear around the bar and that make me loose my fucking mind, mmh? guess it counts as a reward for daddy too, huh doll?”

he muttered those words against your lips, and you nodded against his own, wrapping your arms around his neck to keep him close — he grabbed your chin and tilted your head to gain more access, delving his tongue deeper inside your mouth, making you whimper against him

you didn’t really know how to ask for what you wanted, your inhibitions only making you let out soft, feeble sounds, knowing he’d understand what you wanted.

“aight, bunny, let’s get your sweet ass up before daddy decides to reward you differently, that can wait until we come back, yeah?

he grins and you reached out to grab his hanging dog metal tag, pulling on the chain to press another kiss against his lip, wanting to feel him close all the time, “promise?”

“oh sweetheart, im a man of my word”

hey my lovely, you’ve been feeding us lately and I have another request for you, john picking reader up from college and seeing some silly frat boy try and pick her up, hugeee pda to scare off any college boys

ughhhh oh gosh i neeeeed this sb every new request from you becomes my fav one but this one is such a guilty pleasure im in love with this scenario ૮꒰ ྀི⸝⸝⸝>_< ྀི⸝⸝⸝꒱ა big buff scary daddy that scares college boys away oh my gosh im blushinggg

🐰| sugar daddy!price x sugar baby fem!reader, laaarge age gap, john is in his 40s & reader is 21, pda!! pda!!

you looked at the text from sugar daddy!john saying he was coming to pick you up and he’d be there in a few minutes, heavens forbid his pretty little girl took the bus when she had a personal driver ! ૮(˶˃ᆺ˂˶)

you’d already said farewell to your girl friends, and were waiting all dolled up and cutely down the large college’s outdoor staircase, bag pack cutely stuffed up on your shoulder, your eyes flicked to the road as you anticipated john’s arrival, until someone sidled over, next to you.

”hey sweet face, you waiting for someone?”

you turned towards him and blinked, unimpressed by his words, your sweet features narrowing into a confused expression — you didnt know him, but you recognized the stance, the backwards hat and that easy grin that pattered every frat boy’s face.

“do you need a ride? can take you anywhere you need to go, baby girl, my car’s right there”

he tilted his head towards the college parking lot and you smiled politely, but your brows were frowned, and you mentally cringed a little bit — gosh, how could girls your age find boys his age attractive?

“no thank you, im actually waiting for someone,” you replied kindly, not having it in you to be straightforwardly blunt, “thank you though, I-“

“but you’re here waiting all alone, feel bad gorgeous,” he flashed you a grin, and you only shook your head, finding him almost entertaining — they all had the same look, the same behavior that exuded the desire to impress, thinking any girl would automatically like them.

“come on, just call them and tell them you’re being picked up,” his attempts, while harmless, aren't quite hitting the mark, he clearly cant read a girl’s body language, and you almost offered to teach him how to really act with a lady if he wanted to impress one,

“my daddy’s almost here, sorry” you squeezed your shoulders cutely together, hoping he’d get the idea and catch on your disinterest, but he was undeterred, didn’t seem bothered the slightest,

“well, then tell your father I’ll get you home safe and sound,” his voice trailed off, eyes slowly turning up to stare at something behind you, but you didn’t have time to turn,

you felt an arm wrapping around your lower back, and a large, warm hand tugged you by the hip, drawing you back against a hard, solid chest — the strong scent of tobacco and whiskey tickled your memory, and you looked upwards, finding John, standing right beside you, pressing you against him.

“hey, doll” he squeezed your hip in a silent greeting, eyes solely focused on the guy who’d been speaking to you — there was no menace behind them, only a serious, intimidating gaze that would’ve had anyone back down “m’ here, ready to go?” you felt your whole body turn into flames, cheeks completely red and bright, a rush of shyness making your heartbeat increase — you were in public, outdoors, and no one knew about your relationship.

you opened your mouth to say something, but he only pulled you closer to him, turning you towards him to face him, and lowered his head, crashing his mouth against yours to plant a heavy, demanding kiss on your lips — his kiss was rough, steady, and even though you were the physical one, always eager to display love and affection physically, even in public, you were completely surprised by his action, taken aback.

when he pulled back, he straightened his back, subtly changing his posture — broad shoulders, squared and straight, head held high, arrogantly, exuding unwavering, quiet confidence.

he looked so scary, all buff, muscular and bulk, with his huge, tall body and thick, dark, graying beard — he looked like the most attractive dilf you’d ever see around, a mountain bear that screamed adulthood in the most authoritative way.

oh gosh, and he’d just kissed you in front of that boy, nonchalantly, like he absolutely did not mind about scaring him off.

“aight, give me that,” he gently took your backpack from your shoulder, throwing it over his, all flowery and with tiny keychains jingling at the motion. “let’s go sweetheart,”

you, standing with your heart beating fast, only turned towards that guy — poor him, he looked scared, shoulders low and grin gone, the sight of john must’ve reminded him what real adults looked like.

“uhm, bye then,” you waved at him, giving him an apologetic smile, and tucked your arm around john’s bicep, walking next to him towards his car. his car — that vintage, old fashioned looking car, some students watched from afar as he opened the passenger door for you, letting you sit down before strolling confidently around the car and getting into the driver side.

you sat there, like a little, shy, blushing, hands tucked on your lap, playing with the sleeves of your shirt, “can we put music on, sir?”

“im your personal driver, bunny, do as you please”

you bit down a little smile that formed on you lips, still shy and timid, but turned towards him and leaned closer, planting a soft, loud kiss on his mustache, like you always did

“thank you, daddy”

“you should thank me I didn’t scare that kid off with my rifle, doll, I put men in jail, can’t end up in one”

hi my lovee, reader receiving flowers and assuming they’re from price? He gets home and is LIVID

hiii my dear babyyy </3 im in love with this request wanna scream kick my feet giggle girlishly

💐| lil fluff, sugar daddy!john price x sugar baby fem!reader, laaarge age gap, john is in his mid 40s n reader is 21,

it wasn’t your fault :( due to your upcoming exams, you told john that couldn’t go to the bar, hence why you’ve been home all day, studying, what you didn’t expect though, was to find a postman ringing at the door, holding the cutest flower bouquet for you.

your eyes instantly softened at the sight, immediately thinking about john, who’d often make sure to send you flowers when he was away in deployment, or when he couldn’t see you for a long time, getting them delivered to the house.

your cheeks turned the same pink of the flowers, and you quickly thanked the mailman, taking the bouquet from his hands and holding it close to your nose to inhale the fresh, sweet fragrance. 🏷️ | for the sweetest girl in town,

the softest giggle bubbled from your throat, and you quickly ran to the kitchen, filling an empty glass with water to place the flowers into.

and a few hours later, when john came back from the bar just to check on you, see if you needed anything, you practically jumped at him

“thank you for the flowers, daddy, they’re so pretty” you smiled at him, and it seemed like the sun itself had revealed its rays, your warm, blushing cheeks and doe eyes revealing your bashfulness as you stood on your tippy toes and planted a kiss on his mouth, pressing your lips against his.

john just blinked at you, cluelessly, as he returned the kiss, remaining still — his buff, marble crafted body as rigid as a statue “what flowers, doll?”

you plopped back down and tilted your head, smiling in compliance — “the ones you’ve sent me today, sir, i love them, you always remember pink flowers are my favorite”

but that didn’t clear his mind not even a bit — he was sure he hadn’t sent you any flowers today, and it couldn’t even have been one of those monthly bouquet subscription plans he’d signed up for when he was deployed and far away, occupied with long missions, because in that case he would’ve received an email.

so who was the fool that dared to send his girl flowers? to their home?

as if something had switched inside of him, you could see his jaw clenching, muscles flexing in a way that reminded you of a grizzly bear that tried to tame his temper — a shadow of annoyance crossed his eyes as he spoke, “I haven’t sent them, doll”

your smiles faltered briefly, thinking he must’ve been joking, wanted to keep the surprise effect, but when he moved closer to the table, scrutinizing the bouquet like a challenge, a wave of embarrassment flooded over you.

“what do you mean? you always send me flowers, sir..” you spoke meekly, not wanting to fuel the already heavy discomfort you could feel in the air.

john had been through a lot, he’d faced terrorists, had fought the horrors of battles and wars, but nothing had ever spurred that boiling feeling of anger within his chest that was slowly coming to surface now, roughening the edge of his growly tone “not today, sweetheart”

his fingers touched the little envelope tucked around the bouquet’s stem, “a secret admirer, eh?”

his voice was low, teasing in a way that felt both playful and possessive way — he was a grown, confident, adult man, he knew you were all his, and yet, the sight of another man's gesture, especially one so thoughtful, unraveled something inside him, a possessiveness and jealousy that boiled within him.

that jealousy didn’t come from insecurity, but from a certainty of a man who knew what he had and what he wanted to keep for himself, being the seasoned and confident leader he was, he mastered control over any situation with outmost quiet assertiveness.

he didn’t lash out or yell, oh no, he simply looked down with a dry, dark stare “who the fuck sends flowers to a taken girl?”

you opened your mouth and closed it right after, your cheeks blooming red, and walked closer to him, looking at the flowers differently now, since the note didn’t have a name on it. “I supposed they were from you, sir, as usual..”

“no, angel, some bloke thought he could try and win my girl,” he chuckled, a deep, short, chilling laugh that screamed silent anger. “foolish kid, could use some military training in his life and learn how to fookin’ know his limits”

his mustache twitched, like it always did when he tried and keep his anger in check, and he turned towards you, who’d already begun to play with your hair nervously, eyes narrowing worriedly.

“didnt know sir, im sorry, i genuinely thought they were from you..”

you were like a calming, comforting balm to him, poor sweet girl, you were just so innocent and naive :( but whoever had sent them, hadnt left a signature, which now left you wondering how could have possibly been.

he held your chin with his whole hand, lifting it up towards his face, and planted a forceful, heavy kiss on your mouth, feeling you squirm against him when he bit on your bottom lip, “not mad at you, doll, i know you did,”

when he pulled away, he grabbed your chin with his fingers, squeezing softly as he looked down at you with darkened, half lidded eyes — it had probably been a kid from college, and he didn’t feel threatened by that at all, just pissed.

“hes just giving me more things to do with my line of work, princess, just wait until I find out who that bastard is, gonna send him something special,”

you shivered at the silent threat behind his words, his thick British accent lowering to a dangerous tone, a growly and lethal edge to it,

”i can send them back if you want-“

“oh nono, love, know you’d feel bad, let me take care of it, princesses don’t get their hands dirty, their daddies do”

when sugar daddy!john price finds out about the stray dog you’ve taken in while he’s been on deployment… pt. 2

you cradle the dog against your chest as you look up at john, who now has two, not one, pair of puppy eyes to melt at.

but he’s fuming, bulk arms crossed together and bearded jaw clenched, a crinkle appearing between his eyes, an evident expression of anger that you’re not used to.

“what is that?” his voice is a low, deep rumble that sends chills down your spine, and you find yourself only staring at him, lips glued together — he’s never gotten mad at you before, or angry, you always followed all the rules, slipping out a soft ‘yes sir’ or ‘yes daddy’ and doing as you were told, as if you had been handcrafted by cherubs and sent to earth to be his personal good girl.

he’s warned you about not taking a stray dog many times, and Oreo himself can feel the heavy emotion lingering in the air, how that big, tall man doesn’t seem pleased with his presence.

“Oreo..” you mumble quietly, looking up at him from where you’re kneeling on the floor, hand gently caressing the pup’s soft head. “he’s a border collie and he’s..he’s five months”

could you believe that.

“who’s gonna take care of him?” his gives you single worded questions, his grumpy, strict captain personality draped over him like a cape.

“I am, sir” you try to make him more reasonable, giving him your own puppy dog eyes, your knees scraping against the carpet underneath them as you hug the tiny, black and white creature.

“doll, you need me to take care of yourself, how are you going to take care of a dog?”

“but he’s good, daddy, I promise, he doesn’t make any mess, he just needs love and affection, that’s all” you look at the dog, who’s studying john with a curious gaze, tail moving slowly and attentively.

“he was all alone on the street, with no collar, whining, I couldn’t leave him there hungry and sad :( and I was also alone, we kept each other company while you were away,”

you speak with such a tenderness it is very hard for john to remain serious and mad at you, so he just closes his eyes, pinching his nose.

“come on daddy, you said you also have a dog at the base, why can’t we have one?”

“Riley doesn’t sleep on my bed, angel, he has other people to take care of him, do you even understand how hard it is to raise a damn dog?” his voice grows deeper, rougher, darting his hardened eyes between you, kneeling so cutely in front of him and that damn dog, whom you’ve named after a cookie.

but of course you couldn’t just let him come back to his house with hundreds of more books, you also had to welcome him with a dirty whelp

Oreo whines towards John, his tail wagging shakily, wondering why that new hooman hasn’t petted him yet.

“you said you wanted us to have a son, we have one now :(“

“fuckin’ earth sweetheart that’s not what I meant,” he sighs, bending over and picking the dog up with only one arm — you watch as he lifts him up on the air, scrutinizing him with a doubtful look, his paws are clean, he doesn’t stink.

“you’re just fuckin’ lucky i love her,” he mutters to Oreo, who only gives him a high pitched bark in response. “he’s not sleeping on the bed, he’s not allowed near my boots, and if he drools all over my paperwork, im sending him right on the field”

guess you are both parents, now :)

when sugar daddy!john price finds out about the little furry friend you’ve taken it while he’s been on deployment…

you’ve been looking forward to your daily — nightly — call from john all day, now that hes been back on deployment. And you’re not alone, your new fluffy friend can practically feel the excitement and happiness swirling in the air, and is now wagging his tail contently, nudging his humid nose against your lap.

“hello?” your sweet voice rings like a mellifluous, honeyed waterfall, the first sugary and pleasant sound that john has heard in days. “sir?”

“doll,” his own voice is a deep, warm and low note, rough and husky, it makes you blush and squirm even from a large distance. “hi princess”

“hi, daddy!” it’s exactly when he hears the pure joy in your voice that he’s reminded of why he’s still fighting to protect that country — he’s been a soldier his entire life, a roughened and hardened captain, fearsome and grouchy, who loves working in the military, but ever since meeting you, hes found a reason for wanting to come back, someone to come back to.

“how are you sir?” you crouch and rub your free hand on top of Oreo’s soft, almost plush fur, scratching behind his ear just like you’ve learned he likes so much. “I miss you so much daddy,”

“daddy’s fine, love, just headed back to my private quarters, how’s my precious girl doing?”

you hear the faint sound of fabric rustling on the background, the metallic jingle of a belt being unbuckled is familiar to your ears, and makes you flush, warm and red skin pressed against the phone. “im alright, i went to the bookstore with my friend this morning, and finally tried the new starbucks collection,”

he coos at you, still listening attentively, and you wonder if he’s done getting changed, his uniform tidily folded on his mattress. “that’s good, angel, any problem with the bar?”

you feel Oreo stand up on his paws and snuggle up against your lap, the scent of his soap filling your nostrils an making you smile, still petting his head and back “no, I’ve met some local regulars and they were wondering when you’d open again, are the boys okay? do they miss me?”

his deep, warm chuckle makes you blush more, you just love how velvety his voice sounds “yeah doll, keep asking me how my missus’s doing-“

“woof!”

you widen your eyes and remain still, looking down at Oreo who’s basically demanding more pats — you gesture to him to remain quiet, bringing a single finger to your lips.

but john, able to recognize the tiniest shift in ambience and air, practically made to catch any movement and sound, gruffs in your ear

“…who’s that?”

you freeze, pressing your lips together, still petting Oreo that now titled his head, as if understanding where the conversation will inevitably head to…

“no one, ‘s just my friend, daddy” you mentally pray that you’re sounding convincing, knowing well you can’t — and don’t want to — lie.

a few seconds of silence pass between you and price, before you hear the gruff rumble of his voice, somehow tinted with a suspicious tone and becoming even lower. “…your friend barks?”

“no, he’s uhm…he’s just, happy” you try to bite down a worried smile, nibbling on your lip, but Oreo doesn’t show the tiniest concern over your worry, simply wagging his tail and rubbing himself against you — maybe he doesn’t realize that his daddy is on the other side on the phone, or maybe he does and is eager to let his presence be known.

“doll.” the warning in his rough, low tone would’ve made you shiver in a pleasant way any other moment, but now, it only makes you lift your shoulders against your light neck, faking obliviousness — you understand now why his soldiers always straighten their backs in fear when he speaks with that tone.

“mmmhh, yes, daddy?”

“woof!”

“shh, Oreo!” you whisper to the border collie, but it sounds like a yell to john, who’s now sitting down, a large hand scratching his beard and ruffling his hair tiredly, a heavy sigh stuck on his throat.

he clenches his jaw, the muscles shifting his facial hair before his mumbles something quietly, hand now pressed against his forehead.

you did it, you’ve taken a stray home, to his home, and he’s coming back tomorrow.

part 2 coming soon🍓

not sure how you would feel about this. but price or reader (or both) getting baby fever SOMEHOW, not sure, gets him thinking about when you finish college, maybe even before that. 💍? 🍼?

price wants to marry you when you finish college, he will, absolutely — for now, you just need to study hard and be pretty, you’re basically already his so it’s just a matter of time before you can call yourself bunny price, lol!

buuttt, you being so so young, when he even thinks about putting a baby in you, you look at him with the sweetest gaze and mumble “but im your little girl, daddy “ with glossy eyes 🥺

you don’t get that baby fever yet simply because you want to be his baby forever, his little one — obviously, it wouldn’t be the same thing in that case, but you want to be his only little princess :(

that’s why you’d look good being parents to a lil boy in the future.

but you’re still so young and innocent, still studying to graduate, he needs to wait before he can put a mini price in you, AND, you want to get married first, you can’t wait for a wedding. basically you want to be the only one to call him daddy, is it childish? yes, wasn’t this whole relationship a chance for you to be juvenile in peace in the first place?

ahhhhhh i’m in love with your blog!!!! your reader is so freaking cute!!!!! may i request maybe a reader who finally gets to show sugar daddy john her comfy thigh highs? i think he’d absolutely love them

sending you all the love 💕💕💕 - Lover

thank you lovelyy!!! sending you all the hugs and kisses and smooches , he’d go crazy over them !! innocent in a luring way? he wants to take care of her and protect her from the rest of the world and pamper her but also rip off those thigh highs with his teeth-

🎀| sugar daddy!john price x sugar baby!fem reader, innocence kink, ddlg, that’s it, pure fluff though! price is very hot and old and reader is very young and sweet eheh, laaarge age gap (price is in his 40s and reader is 21)

“do you like them, sir?” your dollish eyes are set on the new pair of stockings you’re wearing, as milky and light as your skin, embroidered with the most delicate fabric — you love thigh highs, they make you feel soft and cute, and you can never own too many since most of them get on the floor and ripped by a certain captain…

you don’t notice the way his eyes are stuck on your legs, the second skin hugging your thighs in a way that makes him want to replace them wish his hands, his scarred, warm hands — his mind hungrily feasting on how he could rip the new pair, keep it in the pocket of his uniform to carry with him to every mission, but you would get upset if he destroyed another pair, you just love collecting them and keep them as they were new :(

your voice lingered in the air like heart shaped bubbles and he quickly regains consciousness, clearing his throat and shifting on his seat “mmh? what was that, doll?”

“the…thighs” you finally look up at him, thin uncertainty in your voice when he doesn’t answer right away, blinking cutely, doubting. “do you like them? they’re new”

“yeah, yeah angel i do, they’re adorable” he gives you a little smile, the one you like to call ‘quokka’ smile, and give him one of your own, cheeks painted red, blushing timidly.

or he could steal them from you, and get a new pair for you to keep everyday, hundreds, in exchange, you just look so edible wrapped in your innocence and thighs highs, it seems to him they have no purpose other that make him bite down his fist and—

“im glad daddy, theyre my new favorites, they were impossible to find, with the embroidered roses and—“

here goes his daydream crashing into million pieces, with that, he knows you’ll never let him rip those thigh highs while he devours you even for a million more promised to come. :(

oh, girls. young girls, to be specific.

The guys that I like just said to me that he doesn’t like me back💀

Now I need a cute daddy!price moment 🙏🏻

btw I love your writing 💕💕

oh cupcake im so so sorry, please don’t let that discourage you or make you feel too sad, im sure you’re beautiful n loving, and at the right time, the right guy will notice you an pick you beautiful flower up <3 everyone’s beautiful and everyone has their other half somewhere, maybe that wasn’t him, but delight in knowing that you’ll definitely find him and you can use this experience as a way to just focus on your glow in the meantime, ily enjoy this is for you🐇🍰 🍡 | sugar daddy!john price x sugar baby fem!reader, laaarge age gap as always (price is in his 40s and reader is 21) ddlg!! little space mentioned, very fluffy

“you’re so old,” you giggle mostly to yourself while you let your fingers scratch his salt and pepper, dark, thick beard. he stays quiet, as usual, only the almost imperceptible twitch of his mustache and the way he pecks his brow upwards give you any sign that he’s heard what you’ve said.

“careful with those words, angel” he mutters, a rumbling, rough voice that makes you giggle again, “but you are! my old, grumpy man”

you squeeze your tiny hands delicately against his cheeks, pressing an open mouthed kiss on his lips, and one more, and another one.

he doesn’t fight your affection, staying still and keeping his eyes steady and firm on your movements. He slithers a hand around your lower back, pulling you closer by your waist, fingers locked on your hip.

“might be your grumpy, old man, but ya still need to be respectful, doll face. Watch your mouth.”

you fake a little pout, throwing your arms around his strong neck and shifting impossibly closer on his lap, launching yourself up with your thighs until you can for once look down on him. “why, daddy, you don’t like being my old man anymore?”

“cheeky little thing y’are” he chuckled, a tiny laugh that almost sound like a scoff. “of course I do, what’s gotten my good girl in such a playful mood today, mmh?”

“I dunnoo..guess im just needy, and probably in little-“ your eyes stop blinking for a second, you realize in that moment that you’re sinking like a fish into the deep ocean of little space.

oh oh.

your cheeks flame up, taking in the same color and warmth of a summer midday sun. You gently shift down onto his legs again, your arms slowly untangling from his neck. “I mean, I guess im just needy, as always.”

“ah-ah, come back here,” he takes a firm hold of your hips, pulling you upward by your waist.

“what is it, princess? tell daddy, come on.”

“it’s nothing sir, im always this clingy” you bop his nose, admiring the way he’s literally aging like the finest wine, attractive and handsome in such a mature and charming way, with the contrast of streaks of gray on his dark hair. “but maybe i just…need some strawberry juice”

john grins at the innuendo, recognizing the secret word code you’ve both set for when you feel littler and needier than usual.

“warm bath with daddy? what’ya say, sweetheart?”

you gleam at the idea, nodding eagerly and happily, and with that, he pushes himself off the chair, effortlessly carrying you with only one arm wrapped under your legs, — you hear him grunt when standing, and you feel bad, scared you might hurt on him “am I-“

“you’re like a feather on my arms, doll, don’t even say it. I can effortlessly carry you wherever you want, just need to crack some bones, sometimes, comes with the age, you wanted an old man, that’s what ya get”

after hours at the bar with quiet/soft music + really fluffy slow dance with price. like they’re both just staring at each other with heart eyes ugh.

please listen to a song from the 80s while reading this lil one shot, i was listening to lady in red whilst writing, but any romantic song about love would set the perfect atmosphere…im gonna sob cause i love this old man

everyone’s gone home, it’s only you and price there, tables clean, soft, lovesick songs from the 80’s playing on the background.

“oh, I love this song” you murmur softly, taking off your high heels and setting them on a stool. John has packed the money and turned down all the lights, aside from the tiny one on the back of the bar — the room is now covered in a gold feeble glow, the dark brown of the wooden floor and tables unable to catch it and reflect it.

you’re an avid 80s music listener, john was pleasantly surprised and impressed upon discovering that your favorite songs were hits from his time, especially during the first proper date, when you showed him your playlist and it was completely filled with songs as old as him. “guess you like everything that’s old and vintage, mmh?”

“went pretty hard during my old days,” he says, walking over to you, his gaze flickering to your bare stockings “all the couples dedicated it to each other”

“so sweet, my parents have it on their wedding tape” you smile to yourself, remembering all the times you’d sit on the floor and replay in on the tv as a little girl (well, littler than now, at least)

“who knows doll, maybe I was a guest that day and attended their celebration” he joked, like he always did regarding your evident large too large age gap.

“very funny, sir,” you reply with a soft tug of your brows, “you were probably a lieutenant, busy charming civilian girls”

“was busy saving the country, you mean, little lady” he retorts, filling the space of your hips with his hands and pulling you in. You had john promise you that when closing, the radio would be the last thing to be turned off, just to create a cozy, dreamy atmosphere in the dimly lit space.

“when are you gonna ask me to marry you, daddy?”

john almost stumbles on in own tracks. His arm securely slides further around your lower back, pulls you closer to him until he envelopes your tiny waist completely, a hungry expression that you usually only see when he’s laying you somewhere, spreading your thighs to accommodate him, when your whines echo softly to him, and replace the sounds of gunfire,

when he gazes his scarred fingers against your skin like a soldier crossing a landmine, when you feel soft on his hands, not heavy like his rifle.

or when he throws kisses like grenades into the trenches of your mouth.

“you wanna marry this old war dog, angel?” he mumbles lowly, his gaze softening into an half lidded expression, heavy with such an intense warmth and desire that you feel your knees weaken like vanilla pudding. “be wed to an old bastard in the army?”

“do you want to?” with the softest, most innocent voice, you bestow your doe, big doll eyes upon him, he doesn’t feel deserving of such a sight. “love me properly before God?”

“He already knows how I feel about you, princess” he mutters back, voice thickened with a rough edge, so deep and husky it almost sounds like a whisper that should belong to nightly affairs.

“mmh, but He’d want you to prove it,” you tickle his beard with your breath and your delicate voice, bottom lip trapped underneath your teeth — your pupils heart shaped, pouring out all the love you feel for him, you literally feel like one of those animated cartoon characters when they’re in love, heart beating out of their chest and eyes the color of and shape of big hearts.

your hand flattens on his chest, as he gently cradles you to the song’s rhythm, your feet standing on his boots, so that with every step, he takes you with him.

“is that what you want, a ring on your little finger? everyone calling you lady price? marry your fuckin’ sugar daddy?”

and he can feel how you shiver against him at the thought, thin sparks of excitement running down your lower back and shooting against his palm.

each note of the song seems to pull you closer, a quiet conversation between your hearts. His hand, steady yet tender, rests on the small of your back, guiding you with a slow, deliberate grace as the other one takes ahold of your own, too large and big compared to your hand.

john presses a kiss on your knuckles, his beard tickling the pearly, milky skin. Pretty hands, never had to carry a deadly weapon, never will.

“I can see myself fit the unconventionally too young wife pretty well , sir..a savior of the country marrying his sugar baby, I can also see that on the news” you giggle against him, resting your cheek on his hard, muscular chest.

he’s got a old body, you’ve got a old, romantic soul, he wants you all to himself, and since you are already his in every way possible, it wouldn’t hurt him or his pocket to just slip a ring on your finger.

sugar daddy!john price x booklover (bookworm) sugar baby fem!reader series

🍧| warnings: fluuuuff!!! laaarge age gap, price is in his 40s and reader is 21, sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship (they’re in love lol), silly ppl, im basically reader lol

you’re standing in front of john’s desk, in your pink converse and with glossed, shiny lips “daddy?” your shy, timid voice draws his attention away from the secret file he was working on.

“what is it, angel?” his eyes are on you, but his mind is quiet elsewhere, and you don’t blame him, he’s been so busy lately, all kind of missions to prepare and work on, paperwork to do, order storage for the bar. you didn’t wanna bother him :(

“uhm, there’s this..this trend going on,” you start, words lingering into thin air as you hesitate and trail off, his brows narrowing at the word trend. was this going to be one of those young people things he didn’t understand?

“where couples go to the bookstore together, the guy gives his girl five minutes to look around for any books she wants, and then gets her however many books she can hold and carry within that set time…”

he’s never heard of it, he doesn’t have social media, and has no idea what a trend it — your old, grumpy man :,(

john’s frown dissolves, and he leans his broad shoulders back against his chair, quickly digging his hand into the pocket of his trousers, then jacket.

he pulls out a leather wallet, opens it, and picks up a credit card — you blink, towards the card and then at him, a sweet confused expression on your face.

“here, doll” he hands it over to you, eyes distractingly reading something he’d written on the file, his mind and focus drifting back to his work.

“what is that?” you ask, ditzy in your own cloudy mind, “I don’t want your credit card,”

he looks up at you again, a puzzled expression now replacing the previous concentration. “what do you mean sweetheart? why not?”

“Im not asking for your money, im asking you to come with me, pretty please?” you hold your hands together, a sparkling, puppy dog pleading look in your eyes. “wanna get more books”

“oh love, daddy can’t go right now, he’s got too many things to do, princess, do you want me to ask one of the boys to go with you?”

“no, i wanna go with you” you pout softly, sitting on the edge of his desk and looking at him over your shoulder “can we go when you’re done sir? that’s the whole point of the trend, couples going together”

“you could go with my card and buy the entire bookstore, doll?”

“but then I wouldn’t be spending time with you..” you let your legs swing over the edge, looking down at all the files and scattered papers.

he lifts his arm up, tugging at the sleeve of his buttoned down shirt and looking at his watch. “can you wait an hour? let daddy read this bad mean criminal’s file case?”

you smile, leaning over the desk, and press your glossed lips against his, giving him a quick, sweet kiss. “of course daddy, thank you, love you, you’ll help me pick books from my wishlist”

you jump off the desk, send him a flying kiss and go to your — shared — room. He licks the strawberry gloss off his mustache, smiling at the door. You’re probably the only sugar baby in the world who asks for his attention and love instead of his credit card.

okokok new idea 🤭

ovulating around John- you’re too nervous to bring it up but he KNOWS (or at least he knows something is eating away at you)

i’ll go crawl back in my hole now hehehehehe

he’s so perceptive he can read you off with a single glance, and don’t be surprised if he mentally memorizes your period cycle, he’s a man of habit, like a big, brown mountain bear… ฅ՞•ﻌ•՞ฅ

🍥 | warnings: sugar saddy!price x sugar baby fem!reader, laaarge age gap, price is in his 40s and reader is 21, reader is soft and feminine n sweet and price is like the hunter from snowhite, ehehe

it’s a lot of things — the new cologne he’s been wearing, that gorgeous watch around his thick, muscular wrist that makes you literally go insane, when he sits and parts his thighs widely, smoking his cigars, when he bucks his hips upwards, when he tilts his head and twitches his mustache, when he calls you princess, angel, babydoll…

well it’s basically everything he does that has been making you heat up — you’re ovulating and it seems like every single thing captain john price does makes your body go up in flames, mind sink into sub space.

poor bunny you’re in heat :(

he doesn’t do that on purpose, he always wraps his arm around your waist when walking past you, he always calls you good girl the entire day, so what’s wrong now? you try to ignore the feeling, the fire that blooms in your belly, that twists every time you hear his deep, low, rough voice.

you want to stay home all day long and let him have his way with you, but you’re working, squeezing your thighs together when he walks by — and it makes you moody, you feel bad, gosh why is your mind thinking about him dominating you so roughly, harshly, pounding into you in the meanest way ever and manhandling you like a rag doll? It’s embarrassing :(

”are you alright, doll?”

you get startled, almost jump when you hear his voice, cheeks burning bright practically on flames, goosebumps sparking down all over your bare legs. “mmhm, yes, everything’s fine sir” you chirp almost too quickly for his liking.

he raises his brow up, watching the way you begin to rub the tablecloth faster against the bar’s countertop, noticing how you seem to try and stay as distant from him as possible.

and then it hits him — you were on your period just a few days ago, which means…

he starts walking closer to you, until he stops to stand right behind you. He places both hands on the table surface, caging you between his large, muscular body and the countertop — stretching his arms on both side, he leans his head over your ear, his hot breath making you freeze your rubbing motion. Your eyes fall on the side, catching that darn watch on his wrist that has you hyperventilating and nearly collapsing.

“if you want something, doll” he punctuates the word something with a slight, imperceptible buck of his hips, pressing himself against your lower back. “you just have to ask nicely, love, need to use big girl words, mmh?”

you’re overheating, the temperature of the bar has dramatically increased, and you just hope this cycle ends soon. oh, girlhood..

“you’re mean sir..” you whisper, referring to the fact he knows you’re too shy to ask for basically any thing, wether it’s something you like, a cup of water or even a sense of relief.

“im not mean, sweetheart, im simply still training you, need to learn how to ask for something without whining or begging daddy with your eyes. Use your words, and then daddy will give you whatever you want, deal?”

some sort of miscommunication between price and reader where he’s stressed out and constantly checking his phone for updates for a case that’s been getting to him for months. Reader’s confused and overthinking why he’s constantly checking his phone and acting anxious even around her. Is there another girl? Are you assuming an exclusive relationship when he isn’t? He is just your sugar daddy, he’s using you and you’re using him, why are you questioning the dynamic now? This leads to her realising she wants to be committed and exclusive with price.

this THISSS is my favorite request so far. stop. i just want daddy price to be all mine mine mine and think about me me me only

you know price is a busy man, between being the captain of a military secret service unit and owning a bar, you are aware of the many responsibilities he carries. But lately, he’s been just too far off. Constantly checking his phone, always on different calls with mysterious people he cannot tell you about, you can’t help but worry.

undoubtedly, you trust him blindly and completely — but you’re also just a sensitive, vulnerable little girl. Since he’s always been able to dedicate you his full time and attention, why has he been so nervous and stressed around you lately? has he been hiding something from you?

you notice he’s not fully listening to you when you talk, hands always holding that phone instead of your waist or hand, always running a large hand through this dark, salt and pepper hair, a weary and bothered look on his face, something serious has to be on his mind.

you trust him, so why are you suddenly so concerned and afraid? what if he started talking to another girl? maybe he’s seeking a different girl’s attention? maybe that’s why he’s always checking his phone for something that you can’t know about. that thought alone makes your tummy heavy with a tight knot, and you want to cling to his leg and beg him to just be your daddy and yours alone.

has he gotten tired of you? has he found another girl to be his sugar baby? you’ve always considered your relationship to be exclusive, only between you and him, but maybe you’ve given it too much more importance and consideration than him? It started off as a plain convenience, him paying for your college, pampering and providing for everything you needed and wanted, and you giving him affection, the company of a young, pretty girl, a warm heart and a warm body to bury himself in.

but you have wanted more from the start — gosh, you know you’re practically in love with him, you want to be his only girl, you want him to be fully satisfied, focused and interested in you alone, his forever little princess :( you want him to be in love with you, that’s it.

you reading alone on his bed and him spending time in his dark office, scrambling with paperwork, you could understand, but that damn phone? gosh, he keeps waiting for someone to text him, keeping it with him all day long, and you start overthinking so much that you just want to cry your fragile little heart out, like a poor soft bunny that feels neglected by her owner.

and when you saw his phone lit up with a notification from a certain Kate, you felt your heart sink — he muttered a low, heavy “fuckin’ finally” and stood up, leaving the room to take another call, leaving you with a wobbly chin.

poor bunny you just don’t know that he’s been stressing for a complicated mission that he’s been following, and that has been getting to him for months now :(

when he came back, he found you on his spot, sitting ever so cutely with your legs underneath your bum, twirling your hair around your fingers, nervously — you looked up at him with doe, puppy eyes and took a little breath before saying “sir, you don’t..you’re not hiding something from me, are you?”

he immediately looked at you in the most disoriented way, the wrinkles behind his eyes stretching, and before you could open his mouth, you sat upright, unable to stop your anxious words to spill out. “I just- im sorry, you’re always on your phone and i get scared, please tell me you don’t have another girl, im in love with you, sir, and-“

john, having years and years of experience behind his back, having learnt how to stay calm and collected in every situation, slowly walked up to you, giving you a relaxed, slightly entertained expression.

with a slow, deliberate movement , he picked you up effortlessly, like you weighted nothing, and placed you on top of the nearest surface — you squeaked, but your eyes were still soft and preoccupied, cheeks red and warm.

“doll,” he called your name with a firm, reassuring tone, as if to placate your worrying thoughts — he took your chin between his fingers, lifting it upwards with his thumb to meet your sugary, saccharine eyes. “listen to me”

he held your chin up with his large hand, your own finding the edge of the table and gripping it. “I’ve been spending more time with my phone because im following a difficult case, and have been waiting for any update for over a month now, princess”

the roots that had clenched your heart slowly started to dissolve into tiny, light sprouts. oh.

“but..you’re always nervous and distant, I thought-“

“what did we say about letting your thoughts wander too much, love?” he squeezed your chin, giving you a lecturing look that made you tremble for a different reason, his tone was reassuring but surfaced into a lecturing one. “mmh? answer me, angel”

“that I have to..” you felt like a little lamb under his intense gaze, like a a little girl being scolded by her father when she almost got hurt and made him worry :( “..come talk to you when it happens, sir”

“exactly, good girl, sweetheart, you come talk to daddy, and don’t overthink your pretty little head”

“didn’t wanna make you upset..” you mumbled softly, his thumb stroking your bottom lip.

“you never make daddy upset, baby. I can’t tell you about my missions doll, they’re state secrets...” his eyes followed the motion of his ginger against your plush lips. “but the person I’ve been talking on the phone with is Kate, our station chief” his lips twitched into a little amused grin, you’re just so young, so naive and sweet, getting all possessive of him :(

“so you don’t…” you trailed off, blinking up at him. “I don’t have another girl, pup. Never dream of it while I have the sweetest, prettiest treat here” he chuckled, a deep, warm and rich sound.

“next time you worry, come to daddy and talk to me. Im sorry I’ve been too busy and occupied with work lately, sweetheart, but you’re the only girl in my heart and in my bed. You’re my one ‘n only sugar baby.” he pulled your chin and planted a heavy kiss on your lips.

“and about that little slip out of yours…” he grinned against your lips, making your face grow red, flame up instantly. “say that again f’me? daddy’s getting old, didn’t hear it well”

“that i…i’m in love with you..?”

oh of course price knew you loved him. He could tell since the first time you had laid your sweet, honeyed eyes on him that you were lovestruck. Part of him was surprised a young, innocent thing like you could spare interest for a worn, old war dog like him.

well, the other part was smug about it, he was a confident, cocky man, and he thrived on the effect he had on you — his own little princess.

“yeah, that, princess, you’ve got me wrapped around your lil finger, havent you? make this old bastard all hooked,” he’s completely drawn to you, even if he’s reluctant to admit it outright.

“you’re gonna make me marry you if im not careful enough, steal my heart, my wallet, and now my last name”

I’d love to see the dynamic between the reader and the rest of the boys in the bar.

baby do you read my mind? I was just thinking about this cute idea !

a few days within the beginning of your relationship with sugar daddy!price, you found yourself sitting next to gaz. You’d been able to see their special bond, how price always pat him on the shoulders, called him ‘son’, and you found it adorable :,(

gaz was nice to you, called you ‘cap’s missus’ and didn’t frown upon the fact that you were 21, and than john could have been your actual father, instead of his. He somehow felt responsible for your wellbeing, was expected to be your guard in the shadows. Make sure nothing happened to cap’s little girl.

he was pretty silent must of the time, but not even remotely close as silent as Simon.

Oh, Si. Sweet Simmy, you called him — you found a big brother in him, that’s for sure. You didn’t feel intimidated by him, but rather a tenderness you couldn’t put a finger on. Always so quiet, silent and gloomy looking behind that skull mask.

you always smiled at him, thanked him for helping you with the drinks, and sometimes even hugged him — did he reciprocate the hug? no, did he pull away? no. did he smile underneath his mask and saw you as a little sister to protect? yeees

”simmy, can you please help me open this beer? the costumer’s waiting”

“thank you big brother :)”

but he wasn’t chatty, like jhonny was. Oh gosh, you and johnny were like long lost siblings — bubbly, joyful and sweet. Both raising your arms in a greeting manner upon seeing each other, ready to practically jump on one another and hug. You loveeeed hugging him. price knows he’s your favorite musketeer of his, you’re just so similar!!

“jhonny!!”

“hey lass, did ye bring me cookies today?”

you often sit together and chat like besties, you show him the new book you’ve currently been reading, and he shows you the lil drawings he adorns his notebook with.

all three of them secretly adore you, think captain price was a lucky man to have found a hot young thing, like you, sweet, kind and innocent in the sexiest way.

but they were luckily the only people price wasn’t jealous of, he’d sometimes shout a “need to take an important call with Kate, take care of my missus. Mactavish, no perverted jokes, Gaz, Riley, no letting stray pups in even if she begs you to” like he’s dominating you even indirectly and you just want him sb :,(

but you’ll get that dog someday.

sleepyfucking sugar daddy!price after a longgg day at the pub pls pls pls

ilysm for this request he’s so burly I wanna hibernate with him, a big brown bear to cuddle you and stretch you open mpfh:((

🍦| warnings: sugar daddy!price, sugar baby fem!reader, age gap! price is in his 40s and reader is 21, basically wanting to sleep while keeping him warm, smutty but delicately as always

always needy for physical love, physical affection and praise, you would always get even needier when tired, overwhelmed by the large amount of love that dared to slip out of your glittery heart like a running faucet — you were so, so open about love and affection, physically and verbally, and when you got back to John’s house, after the busiest and longest day at the bar?

“love youu..” you muttered shyly, words like light and thin bubbles as you snuggled your cheek against his chiseled, hard chest, warmth radiating from his clothes and spreading over your crimson cheeks. “love you s’much”

his hands squeezed the sides of your hips, a silent, firm reminder to stay still. Between the feeling of his thick, veiny shaft buried inside of you, deep and warm, and your tiredness, you wanted to let pearly tears come out, sob and sink deeper into little space.

his shaft was an antagonizing yet comforting presence inside you, large, long and so thick, still hard and unmoving.

he tilted his head down, pressing a kiss on top of your long hair, basking in the scent of vanilla. From this angle, he could still keep his focus on the paperwork he was working on, scribbling down with an expensive looking pen while keeping your waist still against him. “yeah? you love me, sweet girl? I know, daddy loves you too, angel”

you whined softly, snuggling further agains his buff muscles, all harsh, masculine and burly. You just wanted to fall asleep on his lap, your feet hurt after wearing heels all day, your arms were sore from serving drinks left and right. You wanted to cockwarm him after a long, tiring day, but now we’re too tired to even move :(

with an almost impenetrable movement, you bucked your hips, shifting on his lap to get some friction and whimpered — his length somehow dug deep inside of you, you could feel every vein, the tip stretching you out, he was so thick and big :( he’d had to prepare you before you could take every inch, too big for you :(

his hand squeezed again, his mustache and beard still pressed over your head as he somehow didn’t lose composure and kept writing on the papers. “ah-ah, said stay still, doll, keep daddy warm, don’t move”

“but im tired, dd, wanna sleep” you kept your eyes closed, wanting to reach that so longed feeling of ecstasy that would make your body relax even more. How could he still be working after such a long day?

“then go to sleep, princess. Fall asleep against daddy, you worked so much today little one, deserve some rest” the words vibrated through his chest, a low, deep and gruff lullaby — you could hear tiredness in his tone, coarse and drowsy. You were tired, exhausted, could barely talk or move your hips, but you could sleep with the feeling of him inside you and keep him warm and dry while he worked. “when you wake up, you can fuck yourself on daddy until you’re not tired anymore, okay?”

he promised to wake you up later when he finished his paperwork, make you both release the tiredness.

hey it’s me. again. kind of self indulgent but price with reader stressing OUT about exams and school and being an anxious emotional mess.

hey hi again, please fill my inbox with your beautiful amazing feet kicking reqs ily

this is so self insert, oh my, literally relatable on a personal level 🥺 lil side note: I’m super open about my faith because it’s what keeps me alive and happy, so there’s a lil mention of it on the one shot <33

as a college student, your days are constantly reminded of your upcoming exams, and lately you’ve been an emotional, sensitive, anxious lil mess. The tiniest inconvenience makes you cry, sob your stress out, you’re very fidgety, john notices that — bouncing your leg when you’re sitting, biting your nails, playing with your fingers.

you can’t style the ribbon on your hair? you cry. you drop a drink and it spills out? you cry. you can’t put mascara on properly? you cry. you can’t find a comfortable spot or position to study? you cry.

when you’re working at the bar, you try hard not to think about when you’ll have to go back home with price and bury your head deep into your notes. You only feel calm and relaxed when you’re either reading your lovely books, praying, getting dolled up and having quality time with john — all kinds of it.

john understands, he really does. Poor baby, having to study so hard, you’re so anxious and stressed and overwhelmed :( but he so proud of you, his little girl studying hard for her education.

you basically only go to college because you like studying and you know that graduating is important, because with john, you’ll never have to lift a finger, he already spends all his money on you, you can just be his pretty sugar baby in peace.

when you get too anxious, you end up studying on his lap, while he works on some paperwork in his office. When the familiar anxiety cripples in your stomach, making you want to throw up, and you start moving nervously, john intervenes — wrapping his arm tighter around your waist, squeezing softly to remind you of his presence, or gripping your knee gently, stopping your bouncing and rubbing his thumb over it in circular motions.

“shhh love, daddy’s here, breath and focus”

”im so scared, i don’t think i can do it, what if I don’t pass it” you’re a blubbering little mess, considering all the worst case scenarios that will never happen, john knows you’ve always excelled in your studies.

“you will pass it, babydoll, your exam will go amazing,” his deep british accent is basically an antidote against your thoughts, it spreads over you like a warm caramel balm. “you’re always studying so hard, daddy’s proud of you, you’re worrying too much angel,”

poor bunny you’re stressing your poor head out, little tears stain your notebooks, you don’t know how john handles all that paperwork, that responsibility at work, being the captain and commanding officer.

but he wipes away those ears, whispering to your ear how proud of you he is. Tells you to study just a bit more, and he’ll reward you later. that’s enough to keep you focused on the task, using colorful highlighters so that when you’re done, he can easily press you against his desk and make you forget about all the bad anxiety

:,(<33 spoiler: you do end up passing it, but act nonchalantly as if you didnt just cry every day before taking it. “daddy I’ve passed it! :D”

“good job angel, good girl, love, see? that’s because you studied har-“

“but I have another one next month :(“

purposefully teasing price when the bars busyyy🫣 bending over the tables at the bar insisting that you’re just trying to scrub a stubborn spot on the table. maybe leaning too close against the bar and the customers can’t help but stare. And John is pissed at them, not his baby of course. Wearing a little Henley with a lace cami and the tiniest skirt aahahhhhh

oh my gosh im absolutely feral over this, love this request sm help me im short circuiting—

🍓| warnings: slightly suggestive and smutty, fem!sugar baby reader, sugar daddy!bar owner price, he’s in is 40s and reader is 21, LAARGE age gap cause it’s my fav thing, lolie.

you are the subbiest bunny to daddy!price, a blushing, obedient good girl that shies away from every single glance, word and action of his — he’s so dominant and authoritative, you get like putty in his hands :(( but every once in a while, you decide to use your innocence against him.

the bar’s veery busy, swarming with people and huddled with costumers, you and price haven’t even had time to be loveydovey yet :,(

wearing the new cutest little Henley shirt, with lace cami and a lil ribbon in the middle, and the tiniest, shortest skirt in your wardrobe, you serve drink after drink, walking carefully to prevent yourself from tripping on your heels.

price looks at you from the counter, leaning over it and keeping his eyes steady on you, as if he was studying the target’s every move on the field — he notices the way you bend over the few empty seats, slightly lifting a heeled foot up as you try and scrub a beer stain on the surface, and his eyes can’t help but fall on you bottom, the way it’s barely covered by the material, and it always happens to face towards his direction.

his hand grips the glass hard, the veins of his hand bulging at how tight he’s holding it, and he has to contain himself because if he breaks it, you’ll have more work to do.

or when you lean over the bar, too close to the costumers for his liking. He knows you’re an innocent, good girl, you’d never play around with fake flirting with others, because you find it immature and unfair. But you’re so damn sweet and polite — gosh, always smiling nicely at costumers and casually chatting with them, they’re naturally drawn to you, the sunshine of the bar.

when you lean closer to hear their order over the loud 70’s rock music, their eyes wander, and price wished he could hold them by their collar and escort them outside, kicking them out just for looking at you a way he didn’t approve.

oh, but you notice the effect you have on him, it makes you blush, giggle girlishly to yourself, the way he stands like a hawk, shamelessly staring at you while he seeps his drink — knowing you’re his, and he has you all to himself.

you often pretend to stumble on your own, while carrying a light tray, just as you walk past by so he can wrap his arm around your waist and catch you, helping you balance yourself. “ooopsie, sorry, sir” you blink sweetly, smiling at him and strolling away towards the table, his eyes fixed on that damn mini skirt that he doesn’t know wether to love or hate.

when he finally decides to take a seat on a stool, a tactical seat to keep a keen eye on the entire room, facing the crowdy tables, you decide to play a lil game — you need your notebook that’s laying next to him, so why not bend over his lap, stretching to grab it, giving him a full close up view of your butt?

but he’s had enough. He grabs you harshly by the waist, tugging close until you almost trip for real this time, and find yourself plopped onto his lap.

“im done with your little games, sweetheart, quit playing” he mutters against your ear, lowly, deeply and roughly “practically begging daddy to take you, mmh, doll? you’re having fun?”

you shiver at the threatening voice, and you look at him innocently, but before you can say anything, he gives your hips a warning squeeze. “stop teasing me or you’ll end up being spanked here, on the counter, and you know I’ll do it.”

Hi sweetie!! i love the way you write price sooo freaking much!! truly you are amazing!! (sorry if it has any typos english is not my first language) what about price seeing reader crying and really upset after a customer were mean to her? said something rude or a mean comment on her appearance

hiii pudding!! absolutely do NOT apologize, and thank YOU sm for the compliments, they mean a lot to me cause I really hope you like what I write, I need validations and praise to function :,) love this idea, you’re just a sensitive emotional lil bunny, n big old daddy price wants to protect you from mean, rude ppl ;(

you love people, you’re basically a social butterfly, despite your shyness, you just love smiling at strangers and giving them compliments — that made working part time as a waitress easier, that until you found a rude costumer.

poor baby, you kept thinking everyone in this world was as nice and loving as you,

“can you make me a vieux carrè?” the costumer hadn’t even greeted you before he plopped on the barstool, and that already made you feel upset :(

“good evening,” you retort gently, picking your usual pink notebook up but not writing anything down yet “what…what is that?”

he frowned, the kind of look that you always wanted to hide from, judgment all over his face, like he was considering your lack of intelligence. hard for a girl who kept seeking for approval and praise.

“you don’t know what a vieux carré is?”

“uhm…” you shrugged timidly “no, im sorry, I don’t drink” you replied sheepishly, tempted to call one of the boys and let them handle this conversation “and I don’t make drinks here, I only serve them. Simon is the one who mixes-“

“so you’re dumb and useless?”

the word was blurted in such a spiteful manner that made you want to flinch, but you’d been taught to remain polite and kind even with people who were not — your poor, sensitive glass heart though, felt a tiny crack on its surface.

“they probably put you here only for your looks, if you can’t even make a damn drink” with every word he said, you felt more and more warmth invading your chest, your cheeks practically burned with heat, and the back of your throat stung, like hundreds of tiny needles poking through it.

he stood up with a heavy, bored sigh, grabbed his wallet and buried it right back into his pocket, but not without casting you a disapproving glance first, from head to toe. “as flat as a table, you’re not even useful for that”

another crack made your poor, fragile heart shatter down completely, and your eyes grew watery, the promise of upcoming pearly tears that laid still on your pupils, but that threatened to come down your rosy cheeks with a single blink.

they started pouring out when you hid in price’s empty office, knowing no one would find you there. You sniffled, quiet sobs that echoed around you and seemed to cling to you. You’d forgotten to take a handkerchief with you, the little, sweet tears staining the fabric of your uniform shirt.

“what bloody happened?” john’s voice was a deep grumble, thick with worry and confusion. You hadn’t heard him walk in, but that was his own office, and he hadn’t expected to find his pretty girl crying there.

“doll, what’s wrong?” he walked close to you, grabbing you by your waist and turning your body towards him. You keep sobbing silently, crystalline tears smudging your mascara and the glitters you’d put on your eyes.

“nothing, sir, ‘m, ‘m- fine, ‘s just..” tiny hiccups interrupted your feeble speech, and when you finally lifted your eyes to meet his, and he saw your doe, sweet eyes filled with tears, he wished he had brought his rifle with him — to shoot anyone who’d made his sweetheart cry.

price was a gentleman, he only ever wanted to see you cry from pleasure, not sadness.

“what happened, angel? come on, talk to daddy” he cupped your face with a large, warm hand, his thumb catching a tear that spilled out and wiping it away.

“that guy- he-he said i was dumb because i didn’t know how to make him a drink, I apologized, ‘n i know it’s my fault because i didn’t know if it was on the menu but..” your chin wobbled at the memory, your already weak self esteem had been completely crushed by that guy’s words. “he said that im useless and im..im flat as a table,”

john’s eyes hardened, his brows frowning as he listened to your explanation, and he clenched his jaw. You sniffled again, sobs that made his heart clench, and his free hand tickle with the need to punch him in the face. He was fuming, but had to confort you.

“oh, love” he murmured gruffly, his thumb wiping away some glitter from your tear stained cheeks. “oh sweetheart, come here”

lowering his hand he took yours in his, gently bringing you closer to him, walking towards the little sofa chair, the one he’d added to his office for when you wanted to read while he worked.

he sat down and brought your body on top of his, swinging your legs around his sides. You lifted you hands and rubbed your tears away, like bunnies did when they cleaned their soft faces ;,(

his hands rested on both of your legs as you sobbed, slowly moving up and down to caress your bare thighs. “doll, you’re the most beautiful angel I’ve ever seen, the prettiest little thing,” he filled your ears with reassurance, his rough, raspy and low voice speaking gentle and loving words to you. You blinked down at him, sad puppy dog eyes that pulled at the strings of his weary, war burdened heart — he’d seen the worst and cruelest things within his line of work and during missions, but nothing compared to seeing you cry on top of him.

he lifted his head and buried his face on your neck, his mustache tickling your skin as he left a trail of kisses all the way down to your chest, stopping where the neckline of your shirt set a limit to his affection. “the kindest, sweetest girl in the world, intelligent and smart, the cutest fuckin’ baby” he rasped those word between the kisses, against your flushed skin. “my princess, my pretty lap bunny, aren’t ya…”

“don’t ya worry your pretty little head over that meanie, alright, babydoll? He’s lucky I didn’t hear him, I would’ve cut his hands and shoved them down his thr-“

“daddy!” you called him out, a little laugh between the tears, finding his colorful language amusing. “don’t say that”

he grinned against your chest, pressing a kiss right where your heart was and looking up at you again. “listen to me, love. You’re the most precious girl that exists, don’t ever, ever doubt how beautiful and clever you are, understand daddy?”

you let your eyes fleck between his own, nibbling on your pouty lip, and nodded lightly.

“good girl, pup. Say it f’me.”

“I won’t..”

“that’s my girl. Give daddy a kiss, cmon”

you lowered your head and pressed a delicate kiss above his mustache, and when you pulled away, he brushed the back of his finger right under your eye. “no more tears, stay here and rest for a bit, daddy’ll get you some water”

needless to say, you did in fact snuggle up on the sofa, waiting for john to come back with your water — what was taking him so long?

just him finding out who that bastard who’d made you cry was. He’d found him sitting on a stool, complaining to his friend about the waitress — let’s just say that by the time he came back to you, his scarred hands weren’t cold anymore, but were red and pulsing, and Johnny and Gaz had found a way to relieve some boredom. only orders from the captain, after all.

‘’just make him regret what he said, aight boys? and don’t tell my missus, she’ll feel bad.”

reader + price somehow run into her family/ parents? Maybe they come to the bar or something but it’s awkward because her dad’s wondering why his daughter is with someone his age. better yet he’s her SUGAR DADDY. ormaybe it’s for Christmas/ new years. idk.

let’s just say you’ve moved abroad, as an exchange student working part time at the local bar of your sugar daddy, military captain, boss, john price, and you’ve never, ever told a soul about your relationship. The chance of anyone finding out is highly impossible, but what if your parents decide to surprise you for Christmas day and visit you at the bar?

you’ve been excited about Christmas, practically pleading john to let you decor the bar with cute, christmasy decorations. He didn’t care that much, wasn’t necessarily happy about seeing glittery ribbons everywhere, but he couldn’t say no to you, his little girl.

“what about a little mistletoe, daddy? we could hang it on the front door, so when couples come here they can kiss,” you beamed at the idea, looking up at him with gleaming, happy eyes while holding a box full of Christmas ornaments.

his brow perks up, a half, lazy smirk making his mustache twitch “we’re not hanging a mistletoe in my bar, doll”

you pout, placing the box down on the counter “why not? they’re so cute, and they’re elegant, delicate, it’ll blend in with the walls colors.”

john smirks at your whiny tone, and with a swift motion, he slips his arm around your waist, pushing you closer to him. He wraps his arm tight around your lower back, pressing your body against his “don’t need the mistletoe to kiss my girl whenever I want, doll”

you bite your lip to hide a little giggle, but he hungrily captures it with his mouth, crashing his lips against yours. Your back arches, and he leans closer to you, mouth devouring yours like a Christmas dinner, tongue delving deep and forcefully.

then you hear it. That familiar voice, engraved in your memory for years, you’d recognize it everywhere. You freeze, body tensing completely, and your head shifts to the side, as if struck by a lighting.

your parents are here.

at the bar, in the city.

you quickly push yourself away from john, trying to regain some composure. Your cheeks are completely on fire, and you hide your hand behind your back to try and subtly tug down at the hem of your skirt.

“dad,” you say, your voice holding all the mixing emotions, surprise, stupor and disbelief upon seeing them for the first time after months. You wish you could hide under a table. “mom, what are you doing here?”

but your father’s eyes are stuck on john — they fleck around the evident signs of symmetry, the thin wrinkles behind his eyes, the blooming gray on his dark hair and beard, recognizing what he saw in the mirror everyday himself.

the realization that his daughter was kissing a man his age, that could be her own father, stuck on him like a shot of cold, freezing water. For what he knows, they could’ve been colleagues. Childhood friends, even.

“honey, we thought we’d surprise you for Christmas, see how you’ve been doing” your mom is the first to break the ice, but her own disbelief in evident in the way she lets her eyes wander between you and john, who’s still standing behind you, the perfect example of self composure, discipline, being unfazed.

“you’ve flown all the way to the city?” you ask, shame making your words heavy on your tongue. You love your parents, but coming without any forewarn has led to an unpleasant situation.

“wanted to see how it was doing at work, since it’s the holidays, and you live here all alone,” your dad speaks up, a voice that could cut through stone. John held his gaze confidently, knowing if there was a single man he had to at least pretend to show respect to, it was your father.

“but, you didn’t tell me” you mumble softly, and finally walk closer to them.

“it was a surprise” your mom says, pretending not to be affected by the sight of a man older than her, that had his arm wrapped around her young little daughter and was kissing her. She is, but she is good at hiding her emotions.

“w-well, I’m happy to see you, I was gonna call you on Christmas Day,” you shyly peek behind you, gesturing nervously towards John, your heart pounding in your chest. “this is my, uhm, my boss, john”

john strolls closer, walking past through and standing in front of your dad — he’s taller than your father, more muscular and broader, but the closeness in age is evident. John was probably even a bit older than your own father.

“Mr,” he acknowledges your dad, a short, military style greeting that doesn’t seem to please him. “it’s a pleasure”

you know him well enough to recognize that smug, cocky and arrogant tone behind his words, that half grin that hides behind his thick beard. No one could ever make john feel uncomfortable, not even seeing his unconventionally too young sugar baby’s father, with a look that threatens to kill him.

maybe they could become friends, and that way, you could officially be living the ‘dad’s friend’ trope with your sugar daddy. He’s ready to have the ‘your daughter calls me daddy too’ conversation, gosh, if he knew the things he’s done to you, how he’s been treating his little girl, how angrier would your dad look right now?

how about the opposite? John being jealous of his girl getting hit on by a younger guy perchance ?

ohhh cupcake, daddy price would be livid :) when you get jealous it’s all fun and cute, but when he does? hooff

let’s say you were working that day, but the bar was pretty quiet, therefore, you’d found a moment to read in peace, completely lost in the escapism and beauty of your book.

your chin rested on your palm, elbow pressed against the wooden surface of the countertop as you leaned forward to get a better view of the pages — still standing, you shifted nimbly on your own position, using the edge of the counter to keep yourself steady. “pretty and a reader, heavenly match”

you lifted your head, flipping the page of your book without even casting a glance down — a guy stood in front of you, a half smile plastered on his completely shaved face. You had never seen him, he must’ve been a new costumer.

“Good evening, sorry, do you want to order?” you quickly and carefully close the book down, pushing it closer to your chest. You apologized for not being aware of his presence, having been too caught up in your reading.

“Don’t apologize, you’re reading in a pub…maybe I could get a drink in a library?” he smiled boyishly, cocking his brow and leaning against the counter.

you let out a light laugh his joke, finding it funny. The sound echoing through the bar, limpid and melodic.

“yes, I admit I might’ve chosen the wrong setting,” you giggle, picking your pink notebook from the pocket of your skirt.

“what can I get you?” you asked politely, giving him an innocent smile — your gentleness and kindhearted nature always showed up. You didn’t know him, he looked older than you, probably in his late twenties, but his face seemed too young, too..clean. Too casual.

“you could start with your number, sweet cheeks”

your smile faltered for a moment, and you lowered your notebook down, clicking the back of the pen. “Oh, no, uhm..I’m flattered, but-“

“come on, you’re too cute to be all alone in a place like this,” he gestured behind him, throwing a playful wink your way. “besides, you could spend the night doing..something else other than…reading and working. Somewhere else, like my place, see if you’re as innocent as you look,”

he leaned his forearms against the counter, and you couldn’t help but feel distressed — you’d never found yourself in such a position, you wanted to refuse his advances, but remain kind.

“she’s spoken for, boy” you heard him before you saw him, the brooding figure that slowly appeared behind the guy.

john was huge, a mountain man, a big, brown bear, and he appeared more fearsome and intimidating than usual, looming down at the poor guy.

he didn’t wear his usual, signature half smirk, his mustache was completely still, and you could swear his jaw was clenched, tensed.

the guy turned towards him, perking his brows annoyedly “geez, who are you, mate, her father?” you almost widened your eyes at that, and you felt the need to intervene, much more to save that poor soul’s life.

john squinted his eyes down at him, the muscles on his neck bulging slightly as he inched closer, his voice as rough and sharp as a knife “this is not a place for sucklers, go get some warm milk elsewhere, toddler”

even you shivered at the tone of his voice, spine-chilling, dauntingly deep.

“what’s wrong with you, man? why don’t you mind your business?”

“she is my business, talk to her like that again, and I’ll make your milk teeth fall one by one, kid. Get out, you don’t wanna make an adult mad”

the guy scoffed, straightening his back and facing him, but john was as still as a statue, glaring down at him. He tilted his head, his dark, graying facial hair only giving him a darker, gloomy appearance. “Understood?”

something on the guy’s face changed, a glimpse of nervousness, unease written all over his features. He wasn’t smiling anymore, his lips glued together, his adam’s apple gulled with fear. john was a trained captain in the military, he could be very, very scary, in a grouchy, sulky and frightening way — I didn’t wish to see that guy end up unconscious on the ground — he only shook his head, stood taller and avoided meeting John’s eyes, lowering his own gaze before turning around and stroll to the way out, mumbling a quiet ‘whatever’

john followed him with his eyes, before setting them on you — you pressed your book to your chest, timidly looking at him with the purest eyes “are you mad, sir? promise you I didn’t say anything, he- he approached me and-

“never mad at you, precious” he walked closer until the countertop was the only thing separating us, and lifted his hand to place it underneath my jaw, fingers sprawling to grab it. “but don’t get scared if daddy gets rougher later, have to relieve some tension, princess”

you only blink, the promise of his words a thrill that sent butterflies flying around your poor belly, your cheeks grew red, pink like the strawberry milkshake you like so much.

he squeezed your jaw, giving you an expecting look, like a professor waiting for your to answer his question properly. “who do you belong to?”

a daily reminder, just to make sure you remembered all the time, didn’t forget.

“you, sir” you replied without even having to think, blinking your doe, big eyes at him, working your innocence to gain his attention.

“good girl, go back to your book, don’t need to work anymore today”

oh noooooo i just found your account and i’m already obsessed with how you write Daddy!Price 🫣

i have a silly little idea for you if you maybe want to…

Price making you cuddle a stuffed animal while he overstimulates you with perhaps some aftercare tee hee…

literally me writing this vv

love love love love this thought 😵‍💫😵‍💫 brrr! please PLEASE if you have more reqs like this WRITE THEM DOWN!!

Daddy!price would hand you one of your many plushies, his bare, muscular hairy chest pressed against your back as he stills his rough, hard slams for a moment.

“which one do you wan’, poppet?”

you’re a blushing mess, puffy, red cheeks stained with pearly tears, sticking to your face :( you can’t even gather your thoughts at the question, but you tilt your head towards your stuffies collection and mumble a soft, shaky “b-bunny”

of course you’d choose your favorite one, you were a soft bunny yourself, after all, his bunny.

he grunts in response and reaches over to grab your plushie, handing it to you while he shifts you around effortlessly, manhandling you however he pleases. Your back presses against the mattress, and you quickly take the stuffie from his hand, squeezing it against your chest, using it as a emotional — and physical — support.

“hold onto bunny and cuddle him, aight? show him how good daddy makes you feel” he grunts heavily, a raspy, gravel tone that makes you wonder if his voice didn’t hurt. He places both hands at the side of your angelic face, hovering over you with his massive, huge bundle of muscles, before slamming right back into you, making you whine and hug your plushie tighter. he slams his hips against yours harshly, he’s not gentle, never is because you don’t want him to be. His thick length fills you up completely, over and over again, you’ve lost count of how may times he’s made you finish already :,(

you feel overwhelmed, each sense completely overtaken by him, his scent, his rough touch, his weight, his cock that reaches all the way down your belly, you’re a dizzy, fuzzy mess, only blurting out incoherent whimpers, sniffling and sobbing as you hugged the stuffed animal with your body.

“look how far daddy has reached, baby” he presses his scarred, large hand over the belly bulge, and you can feel him deeper. “can you feel daddy here? show bunny, come on”

you hide your face behind your plushie, his soft long ears shifting against you with every rough slam of price’s hips. You hold onto it as if your life depends on it, finding comfort in the softness of his faux fur, the warmth of his plush against your body, while price ravishes your body completely, every slam harder and more intense.

“daddy, daddy, daddy, ‘m tired, please, wanna- wanna-“

“you wanna stop, babygirl? but daddy’s almost there, come on, bunny thinks you can do it, he knows you’re such a good girl for me” every word is gravel, husky and deep, murmured in between heavy groans,

you tilt your face towards the mattress, squeezing the stuffy with both hands, and let out a long whine, sobs and sniffles that sound like the sweetest symphony to him.

“just one more for your old man, can you give it to me angel? come on, make daddy and bunny proud”

and when you do finish with a soft, breathless gasp and he releases himself with a deep, heavy growl, that vibrates through his chest like a rumble, you feel him twitch inside of you, before pulling out and looking down at you, softness and warmth filling his intense, sharp eyes.

“did so good for daddy, princess, always so good” he brings a hands to your cheek, brushing away some loose strings of hair that stick to your sweaty face, his motions gentle and caring now, as if scared to hurt you or break you. His breath is rugged, heavy pants that threaten to bring you to desire all over again.

you lift your arms, tired and sore all over, one hand still holding bunny and the other one closing an opening repeatedly, urging for him to cuddle you silently.

“wan’ a hug princess? come here” he easily picks you, practically carrying you on top of him effortlessly, yet carefully enough not to hurt you when he hears you wince softly, hissing lightly — your legs, your princess parts, your wrists, they hurt, but John was a gentleman, he treated you like the softest, most delicate princess, he was only harsh and rough, very rough, during intimate moments.

his large hands cradle your bare back, caressing you as you snuggle against him, keeping your plushie between your bodies — you sniffle, nudging your cheek against his shoulder. He is so burly, big and hairy, he feels so warm and hard at the same time.

“that’s it, thaaat’s it, my good girl, you’ve been so good, my precious princess, baby. Come here, I’ll run you a warm bath, aight? get your favorite lollipop, you need some sugar in your body. Daddy’s so proud of you, angel”

“want cuddles..” you murmur softly against him, throwing your limp arms around his strong neck — he chuckles, a deep warm and affectionate chuckle as he presses a kiss against your hair. He holds you tighter, his beard tickling your reddened cheeks. “whatever you want, princess.”

bar owner price getting hit on by some woman who’s not reader pleaaaaase 🙏 (fluffy or smutty idk)(both perchance)

thank you for requesting this flower blossom!! I hope to live up to the expectations, its longer than I planned it to be, but enjoy your freshly baked pie!🍰

warnings: sugar daddy price, sugar baby fem!reader, slight sliiiight public play, jealousy, laaarge age gap! price is in his 40s and reader is 21, ringed hand! oopsie!

you were sweet and kind, yes, but oh weren’t you the jealous type.

dammed be that time you’d asked price if you could still ‘help around the bar’ when it got too busy, when you could’ve simply been sitting on his lap, read a book and be his little sugar baby in peace. you rubbed a tablecloth against the already crystal shining bottle of whatever rich liquor bottle were holding, mind and eyes completely elsewhere — the night had started pretty good, John had been busy discussing with his teammates about the next upcoming mission, and you had been dusting off the countertop, all ribboned and dolled up.

but, just as little bunnies could catch the tiniest shift in the environment and put their senses in alert, ears twitching upward, stilling in their tracks, as the night went on, you could feel something, no, someone that didn’t please your inner senses.

you carefully placed the half filled glass on the tray, eyes shifting to where John was sitting. His ringed, left hand held up his usual poison, scotch with no ice, but Simon wasn’t sitting in front of him, nor was Gaz, or Johnny.

no, an older, clearly attractive woman was — everything about her poured an uneasy feeling down your spine, the way she was practically eye-eating john up, not even trying to hide her obvious smirk, shamelessly undressing him with her eyes.

you blinked, dumbfounded, towards her. She was everything you were not, generously gifted curves wise, confident, and conventionally attractive. If you were a bunny, she was a whole panther.

she leaned herself closer, practically squeezing her chest up to him, her lips mouthing something you couldn’t quite catch from here, but John wasn’t looking at her, his eyes were focused down on his glass, the tip of his finger distractingly tracing the circular edge of the glass.

he literally owned the bar, he could simply make her leave and do you a huge favor, right?

you let out a shaky breath, feeling the familiar sensation of warm, burning roots of jealousy creep up your chest and paint your cheeks red. Your throat stung, welcoming in the feeling that almost made you want to stomp your foot on the ground like bunnies did when they were upset and offended.

you angrily picked up the tray, walking down towards the costumer who’d been waiting for his order. He was sitting a few seats away from them, and despite your crippling frustration, you smiled at him softly, placing his drink down.

“could show you a great time, big bear”

you stilled at that luring, seductive voice, your smile faltering when you heard her words. You hated the way it sounded, the way she dared to use a nickname on him. Only you could.

she winked at him, and stood up, her clothes revealing enough to leave little to the imagination. Great, you’d have to ask Johnny to get you some ice cream so could eat it while crying over yourself. You heard her heels clink distantly, towards the back of the bar, down to the bathrooms, and you straightened your back, a flustered, annoyed expression on your usual soft, smiling face.

taking the empty tray back with you, you walked past John, ready to hide yourself behind the counter and brood all night long about what had just happened — your own heels sounded louder than usual, each step trying to ease up some pent up sparks of anger,

“doll” the gruff, deep voice called from behind you, low and heavy. You stopped, still not facing him, halfway past him. You frowned, waiting a few seconds before turning towards him and start walking again,

one, two, three, four steps until you were in front of him. He was looking up at you, eyes always so impossibly intense, you could never tell what he was thinking, always so impassible, self assured and keeping his composure.

that’s when your juvenile immaturity came out. You crossed your arms together, shifting your position imperceptibly, yet little enough that he could see the light tilt of your hip. Now it was his time to stare, his eyes warm like the golden liquid he’d been drinking, taking greedily in every inch of your feminine, short uniform.

“what, sir? do you need an ashtray?” you questioned, your sweet voice tinted with an uncharacteristic sarcasm as you blinked down at him.

oh, he loved seeing you like this. A part of him got off at seeing you all pent up and flustered. His brow perked, the side of his mustache twitching up amusedly — your eyes fell onto his lap when he shifted, parting his legs and shifting his hips upwards, spreading his thighs wide. He brought his free hand down and patted his lap twice, gesturing for you to sit down.

the sight made you flush, your cheeks grew red and your belly twisted with a warm knot, you could feel your panties already growing wet, but you remained resilient for an instant. “I can’t, I’m working”

“you can if I say so” he didn’t leave any room up for questioning, muttering the words out like an order, knowing well enough you always did whatever he told you to — you were his good girl, after all.

you bit the inside of your cheek, and sighed. You were annoyed, jealous, you didn’t care how immature it seemed. You turned around, sitting yourself down into his lap.

his arms quickly crossed around your waist, pushing you closer against him. He drank quietly from his glass, eyes studying your crossed arms, your red cheeks, and pout.

that’s what made bunnies all worked up then…

“easy, pet” John chuckled, warning you so gently with a tone that made you shiver on his lap, his warm breath fanning over your neck, “eyes on you, love,” he murmured, his hand sliding from your waist all the way down your short, tight skirt, resting uninvitedly between your thighs “always.”

he was wolfishly trying to soothe you, trying to mold your mind into reassurance.

”but she doesn’t know it,” you replied, and John almost grinned at how adorably you looked and sounded, always so polite, quiet and sweet, he’d never seen you quite this annoyed.

that woman chose that exact moment to come back from the bathroom, and price could feel your body tense up against his, tense and nervous. She slowed her tracks upon seeing you all curled up on his lap, a glint of realization crossing past her and a frown decorating her face.

“shh, sweetheart,” John murmured gravelly against your ear, but you were a bundle of nerves. He sipped from his glass — eyes narrowing at the woman across the room. He slid his hand further down, slipping right underneath the hem of your skirt, brushing up and down your thigh without going up too high in the public setting.

you held your breath, your cheeks burning a bright red, and turned your head to look down at him. He set his drink down, and with an unexpected movement, he gripped your thigh and pulled you harshly closer to him. “wait, sir-“

“look at me, doll”

you did.

“who gets to have me every day, anytime she wants?” he rasped quietly, his gravel voice making you clench your thighs against his hand. His tone had been clear, he wanted you to answer him. “answer me, sweetheart.”

“i-i do” you blubbered out, arms no longer crossed, but on both sides of his legs.

“who do i take home with me, to my bed, to the back of this bar, every night?” his hand travelled higher, brushing against the hem of your panties, the cold metal of his rings against your clothed clit. You could feel a hardness underneath your lower back, and you blushed at the feeling of his erection pressed against you, almost fighting the urge to grind against it.

“me, sir…” you breathed out, your pent up frustration and jealously slowly being replaced with other feelings.

“who gets daddy like this?” he accentuated his words with a subtle buck of his hips against you, making you swallow back a whine at the feeling of his hardened, clothed length underneath the fabrics of his trousers.

“m-me, sir…”

“good girl, she wants what she cannot have,” he twisted two fingers, pressing the hard material of his rings against your panties, making you trap and bite down on your bottom lip. The thin hem of your skirt covered that act to the outsiders, hiding it from peering eyes. “can stare all she wants, daddy’s all yours, bunny”

with a swift motion, he put his hand underneath your chin, and tilted your head up towards his. “behave f’me, love, ‘aight? no need to be jealous”

you’re still pouting, a shy, annoyed bunny that was just clingy and needy, could you blame her? You nodded and he leaned back on the sofa chair, veiny, hairy hand distractingly caressing your thigh, not venturing too far.

you hadn’t even realized that the woman had left the bar, mind too focused on John’s hands and words, but before you could say something, he tapped your thigh twice. “now, get up and go to my office, need to help daddy fix what you’ve caused”

Sugar daddy!price x fem!reader (bar owner series)

| 💌 warnings: sugar daddy-sugar baby relationship, suggestive, age gap!! (price is in his 40s & reader is 21), minors dni pretty please, I like to play around tension, I find it to be way more entertaining and actually attractive to read about.. (sort of part II of the previous blurb🧁)

”you better start getting used to coming here often, doll” the words coming from him sounded gruff and rough with his lips pressed hardly against your own, his mouth almost devouring your every breath, parted only slightly enough to let his voice brush against your face. “can’t have my little girl stay all alone in a tiny apartment too far away from her old man, mmh?”

you were already panting, your chest raising and falling with every feeble breath — poor thing, you were only kissing and you were already red and melting like ice cream.

price didn’t let you answer him before diving right back into your mouth, his lips crashing against yours like a man starved. The kiss was steady and precise, not too fast but hard and rough, enough to have your dainty hands grip his collar. Where he didn’t exceed in speed, he did in strength.

you whimpered against him, lifting up your head to try and reach better, your motion causing a deep, rumbling purr to vibrate from his chest. You felt his tongue push deeper against yours, ravishing your mouth like he hadn’t seen you in month and had just come back home from deployment, when in reality you’d just gotten back from a restaurant.

he still tasted like whatever rich type of vine he’d been drinking, and you tasted like that strawberry tiramisu that he’d insisted you order after seeing you blinking at the image on the menu for more than a millisecond.

he ended up ordering it for you, of course.

his mustache tickled your blushing skin, the dark, slightly graying flecks brushing against your skin and making you giggle timidly in between the kisses “wait, wait, sir, that tickles-“

you could feel him grin against your lips, oh how he couldn’t wait to train you into the most perfect girl, you were already a good girl, innocent and sweet, submissiveness dripped from you like honey and he was eager to feast on that nectar.

“sit down,” it sounded like a field order, he’d been so accustomed to the military leadership, that every word and action of his was naturally tinted by evident authority, dominance and control.

you plopped down on the couch in front of him, as quickly as the order had been spoken. Something glinted behind his eyes, he was satisfied with your effortless obedience.

“good girl,” you felt that familiar tingle burn down in your belly at the praise, you’d do anything to hear those words from him, to be called goor girl — his, good girl. You wanted, yearned to earn his praise.

“seems like my little girl has a thing for praise, doesn’t she?” he lifted his thumb and forefinger to gently grasp your chin, pulling it upwards to meet every battle of your doe eyes.

the grip was fierce enough, exuding dominance with every thoughtless gesture, and you were already a squirming mess. You mumbled a shy affermative sound, but he tightened the grip on your chin, giving you a look of expectation.

“I know you’re shy, sweet girl, but you need to answer when daddy asks you a question” his voice had gotten deeper, a rough and lethal edge to it like the back of a knife.

the back of his fingers pushed underneath your jaw, forcing you to look up at him — you wanted to tilt your head and snuggle against his palm, but he accentuated his order with a squeeze of your chin that almost made you whine, “use your words”

your cheeks grew warmer, redness spreading all over them as you blushed and pressed your knees together. It was all too new for you, torn between shyness and the evident need to obey his every request and order, you stammered out some swift words “yes, yes daddy, I do”

he gave you a lazy, satisfied grin “good girl” he released the grip on your chin, and tucked a loose string of long hair behind your ear “know you do, y’get all red and shy when i praise you an give you compliments, bloody hell, y’re the sweetest fucking girl alive”

oh his voice was your weakness — the deepest, lowest and sultriest tone you’d ever heard, roughened by desire.

“thank you, sir” you murmured politely, fighting back a shy smile that had started to form on your lips at his words.

“you said you know how this arrangement works, haven’t you?”

you tilted your head with a shrug of your shoulders, curiosity and doubt written all over your dollish features “well, yes, I've only read about it in some of my books, but…”

at your words, his eyes grew more affectionate, you were adorable to him. He almost felt bad for wanting to ravish a pretty innocent angel like you. But he was going to pamper you like the most delicate flower afterwards.

“alright, angel, no rush. I’ve got scars older than you, princess, so,” the sound of his hands rustling with the buckle of his belt caught your attention, your eyes falling on his large hand that promised to unlock a whole new dimension to you. “lets start with sumthin’ easy for this lil’ dove. On your back, come on.”

Sugar daddy!price x fem!reader (bar owner series)

🎂 warnings: suggestive at the end, minors dni please, laaaarge age gap (price is in his 40s and reader is 21) <3

if price found out you haven’t been eating since breakfast this morning and are currently starving, he’d be mad. Not at you, but for you. so, like a sweet, good little girl that wished not to burden him with concern, you rush behind the counter, to the back storage room next to his office — a quick snack, that’s what you’re going to indulge into.

your hands carefully dig into your backpack, and as you take out the piece of strawberry shortcake you bought on the way back from college, you make a little hop on the spot — barely able to contain excitement.

your fingers work hastily to remove the paper and plastic from the box, and the scent of sweet, sugary whipped cream and strawberries fill your nose. You smile to yourself as you gather some whipped cream with your finger and bring it your lips.

you scarcely contain a silent moan when the sugar melts in your mouth like a cloud of sweetness, as if heaven itself decided to reveal its secrets.

“gosh it’s so good” you murmur, bringing another whitened finger to your lips, mouth already half filled with the previous bite.

“oh you are indeed”

you startle in your own tracks when you hear the low, deep voice from behind you, like a little bunny getting caught feasting on a farmer’s carrot land.

turning towards the door, you find john, his imposing, muscular figure looking down at you with his signature lazy, amused smirk. Your eyes fall on his flannel shirt, the first buttons are languidly left untied, allowing you a stolen glance of his hairy chest, his pectorals that make your mouth water as much as the long forgotten piece of cake in your hands.

dumbfounded, you blink up at him twice, swallowing down the remaining mushy cake you stopped chewing on upon seeing him. Your cheeks grow red, sunrise reflecting on them with how bright and warm they look.

“Sir, uhm…i was, i was-“ you struggle to compose yourself, lowering your hands as he slowly begins to strade over you, the familiar scent of cologne and tobacco mingling with your vanilla perfume.

“hungry? can see that, angel,” he whispers, clearly entertained by your shyness. A lazy, seductive smile appears on his visage like a natural decor, one you’ve never seen him not wearing since meeting you.

once he’s close enough to tower over you, his graying, dark beard catches your attention, his mustache and salt and pepper hair, the way the muscles of his hairy forearms bulge with every move, everything about him screams strong masculinity, control and dominance.

he lifts up a hand towards your face, and you hold your breath as he uses his calloused thumb to wipe some whipped cream off the corner of your glossed lips. He brings the digit to his own mouth, licking the cream off his finger — the sight makes the pit of your stomach twist, a warm knot tightens in your belly and roots all the way down between your thighs.

you have to slowly place the cake down on a nearby surface otherwise you’d make it drop.

he licks his mustache, his sharp, intense eyes fleck to you, studying silently and carefully every single reaction he could get and read off you, “it does taste good though doll, you’re right,”

his voice deepens, a baritone that sounds gruff and heavy, and you involuntarily hide your hands behind your back, gently holding onto the edge od the table. With a slow, deliberate movement, he brings his licked finger down, underneath your skirt, and presses it against your clothed clit.

as if a spark shot through you, you almost squeak, a muffled whimper leaves your lips, an unfamiliar sound that your own ears don’t recognize. He keeps his eyes on you, lid and thin, as he slowly brushes it over your panties,

“but I’m sure when I finally get a taste of you, you’ll taste even sweeter” his words sound like a growl, an impatient promise.

he knows you’re a sweet, young, inexperienced, untouched girl, and as much as he was a gentleman, as much as he wanted to handle you cautiously, like a porcelain doll that could break in a heartbeat and needed the best care and attention, he almost took you right there when you gave him those doe, shy eyes.

“I know you’re impatient, sweet girl, but daddy will make it worth the wait”, he thinks you deserve more that a stolen moment in the midst of the chaos, of a working day, and he knows you want him to be rough, to be hard on you. “let daddy take you out to dinner tonight, and then you can give this old man some sugar, mmh?”

you can only nod, words stuck in your throat unable to come out, but your eyes gleam in the softest and most innocent way, you don’t know if you want to drop to your knees, and beg him to do whatever he wanted, or to grab your piece of cake back and hide behind the counter.

bunnies were shy creatures, eager for affection, love and attention but timid when under their owners’ loving gaze. If you weren’t careful, they might just hop away and hide shyly.

..but a little bunny like you needs to be trained into being the perfect, sweetest good girl first. And he is a man of discipline, he knows how to wait.

“aren’t you too young to be working to afford your college all alone? doesn’t your daddy pay for his little girl’s education?”

you blush at the man’s question, he was a regular, and you know he has only asked out of mere curiosity, but it somehow makes you feel embarrassed. As you place the bottle of beer down on his the table and look at him, you notice the lack of judgment on his face, but a brush of concern and noisy inquisitiveness.

“oh, my daddy does pay for my education” you answer him politely, blinking down at him with your brows slightly raised as if your statement was the most obvious answer. Little does he know, the daddy you’re referring to isn’t your father, but john price, your boss, sugar daddy and owner of the bar.

sugar daddy bar!owner john price x sugar baby!waitress series

🥀 |warnings: +18, laaargw age gap (reader is 21 and price is in his 40s), fem!reader, sugar daddy/baby relationship mentioned, not smut but suggestive.

price thought a doll like you deserved a grown, strong old man like him to treat you like a princess — spoil you rotten, wrap you up in bubble wrap and take care of you. You didn’t need to work, get your pretty hands sore and tired from pouring drinks all the time. he’d give you all the money you needed to pay off your college and to get all the pink, girly things you liked so much, ribbons and all. You just needed to sit cutely on his lap, to be his, and he’d give you the whole world. He was in his 40’s, you had only recently turned 21, a flower on the prime of her blossoming youth, who could give an old, worn out man like him some sugar.

that’s why he offered you to be his sugar baby. that offer, made you flush on the spot — he was so confident and composed, unfazed by his own words. The moment he saw redness spread over you cheeks, he knew he had you. His mustache twitched, his salt and pepper beard stretched as he wore an amused, lazy smile. you were always so obedient and compliant to him, always chirping a “yes sir” to anything he’d ask or tell you to do, a sweet, young, too young lil thing, eager to earn his praise, to feel those goosebumps trail down your skin when he muttered a gruff, deep “good girl”, you’d be the perfect submissive, you’d have it in you to be trained already, even in your innocence and inexperience..

..but, you’d initially declined his offer, because “I want to earn that money, sir, and I’d feel bad if you just..gave it to me like that”

oh, how honest, naive, innocent and pure you were. He admired that about you, but you could see it in his eyes, the way he cocked his thick, dark brown brow upward, that he didn’t believe you’d cling onto those words for long. He knew you were just too shy to accept, but you wanted to. You wanted to be his pretty, little girl. and he was right, as always. One particular night, you’d found a moment to lean your arms against the wooden counter and just breath. You’d been studying all morning, head buried in your notes, and when you got to the bar, you found dozens of soon to be drunk men ready to order alcohol and ask you to bring them ashtrays.

you wanted nothing more than go back home, snuggle in your pink, soft blankets and read your so loved books — it had just been a draining day, you enjoyed your job, but to be honest with yourself, the thing you liked the most was feeling john’s attention and eyes on you during your whole shift and maybe you could finally have someone provide for you.

so, that’s how you found yourself in front of his office door, hesitating lightly while millions of tiny butterflies flew around in your chest, your cheeks as red and warm as ripe strawberries under the summer sun.

knock, knock.

he’d recognized that knock. A feeble, light thud against wood. That couldn’t possibly have been Simon, whose hand could make the whole door shatter down with a single knock, nor Soap’s — bloody hell, that man never bothered to knock at all, he’d just break in.

so he wasn’t surprised to see you, standing meekly in front of his large, wooden desk, the hem of your skirt hugging your milky, bare thighs, your fingers fidgeting together and your eyes looking down at his sitting stance, shy and timid.

“what is it, doll? need ol’ price?” his voice was so rough, so husky, you wondered how it would sound from between your thighs, or from behind you, while his large palm pulled your hair to make you arch against him.

you blinked once, gathering courage to ask for what you’d secretly been daydreaming about, your boss, old enough to be your father, aging like the finest wine, showing you things you’d never ever experienced.

“about your offer, sir” your cheeks were burning, flaming up, “if I accept, can I still come here and help you around?”

“if you accepted,” he almost didn’t even let you finish, eyes already darkening at the thought, a wave of desire rushing through his weary, battle scattered heart, “you could do whatever you wanted, angel, you’d just have to say please”

bar owner!john price x soft waitress!fem reader

🥛| fluff, beginning of my sugar daddy!price series, laaarge age gap, john is in his 40s and reader is 21 and works for him :)

as you hopped gingerly and cautiously from one table to another, taking orders and writing them down on your pink notebook, john couldn’t help but love the way you were so graceful, so sweet and nice to everyone, the way you’d always smile at a costumer, the way you’d gracefully bend to place the serving tray on the table

sitting far from you with a glass of scotch in his hand, a thick cigar on the other one, he’d make sure he could keep an eye out on you, on your wellbeing, even from the most hidden corner of the bar. He exuded confidence, authority, manspreading his legs and practically sitting like he owned the place —which, he did — his rugged, mature features darkened by a gloomy shadow. unbeknownst to you, he noticed everything: you, strolling over the counter to set the heavy glasses neatly on the tray’s surface, your red, warm cheeks and your short, tight uniform skirt. And when — if — a costumer’s eyes lingered on you or, heaven forbid, your skirt for a second too long, disrespectfully, he’d notice it alright. Oh, he’d make sure to teach that poor soul a lesson. Yes, he was a very quiet, reserved, mean man — but not when it came to you.

you were too busy, occupied for most of the night, barely catching a glimpse of john and his three musketeers, oblivious to the deaf sounds that were happening behind the entrance door.

“If I ever catch your dirty fuckin’ eyes on my girl again,” John gritted out, his mustache bare inches from the quivering face of that man that had dared to look at you in a way that didn’t please john after you’d taken his order, the man that now found his back pressed to a wall and rough, large hands gripping his collar tight “I’ll make sure you don’t get the chance to look at anyone ever again. Understand me?”