Cod Imagine - Blog Posts

dilf old man!john price accidentally turns off his cigar by pressing it against the palm of that prick who claims to have accidentally brushed his hand against your butt by mistake, but ‘didn’t mean to’.

you squeal like a startled bunny when you feel something against your skirt, and turn around with doe, worried eyes — a pair of hands shoot upwards, and you’re met with the not so earnest apologetic expression of a guy you don’t know, who blurts a “sorry, miss, didn’t meant to, bumped into you by accident”

you quickly shake your head, giving him a polite smile, kind, well mannered. too kind for your own good, never wanting to cause trouble “it’s alright, don’t worry”

but john sees and knows everything concerning you, he’s attentive of your surroundings, needs to be always on alert for his sweet, little bunny girl. and he knows that prick didn’t touch you by mistake.

the moment you turn around and shift away, busy sipping on your strawberry matcha like the epitome of innocence, john moves to stand behind that guy.

his hiss of pain falls on deaf ears when john brushes next to him, almost as imperceptible as the slight flick of john’s wrist, imprinting a cigar burn into that guy’s hand. he instantly withdraws his hand, blurting out thick curses as gray ash burns around a red mark on his skin.

“careful where you put your hands,” john’s voice sounds deep, rough in a lethal way, menacing and rough. he barely leans towards the guy’s ear, standing tall and intimidating, the double entendre of his words clear. if he’s not careful he might get more than a simple cigar burn.

i don’t know if you’ve written about this, but I can imagine dbf!john leaning towards you when his rabbit isn’t talking too loudly to be overheard, and tugging on the little loops of her denim skirt to pull her a little closer... and I think there are some sparkles on his clothes from his doll, who found herself some strawberry-scented glitter perfume.

requested by @anattami 🍎

dads best friend!john price and his soft, bunny girl can indulge in each other’s presence with subtle gestures, silent yearning, hidden and lingering touching. especially at a family gathering, or when your dad’s around. if your father invited him over for a barbecue, to have dinner together, dbf!john would have to act distant, like you’re just a little girl, a kid he knows through your father, who happens to be a longtime friend. brooding, detached, like he doesn’t even acknowledge your presence.

but when no one’s looking, he slips into your personal space, looming over you like a damn bodyguard. he notices when you stop talking because whomever you were talking to wasn’t really listening, when you speak quietly not to be overheard. he hooks his rough fingers into the loops of your denim skirt, subtly yet firmly pulling you closer to him, until your back presses against his chest, and your breath hitches. a silent, imperceptible movement that no one seems to notice.

when no one’s looking, dbf!john would lean over the table to grab a beer and subtly lean closer to you while you’re sitting reading a book, in your own little world, to whisper a low, deep “look pretty today, bunny, cute skirt.”

and he definitely doesn’t miss the way you tense your thighs together when he speaks with such a rough, gruff tone. the way your cheeks bloom red, flushing timidly.

or when dbf!john grabs you by the waist to move over, passing by you. squeezes your hips for a short moment, making you almost stumble and pour your iced strawberry juice all over your sundress.

like the old gentleman he is, dbf!price follows you to the garage to help you carry water bottles to the back yard, but those are long forgotten on the bench when he picks you up and effortlessly sits you on the flat table next to the fridge, gets between your parted, sweet thighs and devours your mouth, tongue and lips kissing yours with all the pent up restrain.

you throw your arms around his neck, locking your legs around his waist to pull him closer, whimpering between the rough, heavy kiss. he grunts against your lips, his tongue pushing against yours as he takes as much as he can within the short time he has.

and now, his his dark shirt is littered with sparkling glitters, shining like tiny twinkles that your strawberry glitter perfume roll has left on him — you put some on your wrists and your neck, but now you’ve left a trace of it all over him.

“always a good girl for your old man, mmh, bunny?” he practically growls against your mouth, steady and scarred hands holding you by your waist. “there she is, all f’me,”

you nod, breathless, pink cheeks bright and warm under his hungry gaze. he can only take advantage of these short moments, when no one’s around — you can’t even speak, far too fuzzy and dizzy, shy and looking at him like a lost, delicate bunny with those doe lashes. he needs to be careful, quick. he has to haste, he knows he can’t do these things, he’s not a good man. guilt and desire block his throat and he reluctantly slows the kiss.

it’s like indulging in something he knows he can’t do, he shouldn’t, just for a short moment.

“good girl, doll, my angel, minding her business, always so quiet,” another kiss, heavy, longing, “sweet as sugar. aight, back there, gonna make your pa worry,” he pats your thigh playfully, letting you take a little jump to stand on the floor, brushing down the layers of your skin to recompose yourself, still too red and embarrassed to say anything.

he picks three bottles of water with one arm, winks at you and strolls back to the yard, still smelling like you, vanilla and strawberry.

dbf! john texting his little bunny but he’s lwk old so it’s so cute how he texts and doesn’t understand her lingo etc. ykwim?

—bunny “tysm for the birthday gift sir, please lmk when you can come over to help me hang the shelf on the wall!! need to organize my new books asap!!🐰”

—bunny “oh, btw i’ve put aside a piece of cake for you, jic. xoxo”

john stares at the texts, frowning at those meaningless letters that apparently make no sense to him. the smoke curling from his cigar swirls around the screen of his phone, but that’s not why he’s squinting his eyes to see better. what does that mean? jic? was she supposed to write jp? as in his name?

—john “coming over later today, love. asap? that a new book series you’ve got?”

—bunny “means as soon as possible!🐰”

he grunts. amused, puffing out a little chuckle. obviously, young girls and their use of modern language.

—john “got it doll. pa’s home?”

his large hand came to scratch his thick beard, dwelling into the salt and pepper hairs. but as soon as another little ring put his phone up, he stopped, the cigar hanging from his lips.

—bunny “no sir :(, dunno when he’s coming back, dd”

oh, he didn’t need to ask what that last word meant. he knew that damn well.

—john “on my way, sugar.”

—bunny “you mean ‘omw’, lol!🐰”

dbf!john price x bookworm young fem!reader

when it’s your birthday, you always only ask for books as a gift, just like every other year. your bunny room is already filled with books, many bookshelves hug its walls and are swarming with thousands of books. but this year, your dad didn’t get you any because “you already have too many, and there’s no more room for them”

which is true, you’ve run out of space, poor little girl your room is filled to the brim, and you have no more free shelves. nonetheless, as a self birthday gift, you made sure to get yourself some books from your wishlist — the moment you get them delivered to your house, you’re pure sunshine, joyful, the happiest. but you soon realize, where are going to put them?

dbf!john price has spent the entire morning surrounded by the dull sound of his axe chopping off wood, splitting heavy wooden logs with the strength of a man who’s spent his entire life training his body in the military. muscular, broad shoulders flexing every time he lowers the axe, his bare chest exposed to the hot sun, sweaty, hairy and buff. his biceps are thick, the outline of his forearms flex with every hit on the trunk. the white bottle of color spray lies on the grass next to his military boots and a bunch of handiwork tools. rough, deep grunts vibrate from his marbled chest as all the pent up strength flows into the task at hand.

at the end of the day, when the last bite of strawberry shortcake is only a nostalgic taste on your tongue, your eyes sparkle, shining more than the candle you turned off earlier — a mid sized box, pastel pink, lies on the front door. not as pink as the bright blush on your cheeks when you timidly pick up the little note on top of it, seeing the sketch of a pair of bunny ears.

you open the box, your heart flutters at the sight of the content. a white, wooden wall shelf with a delicate and soft design. In the center of the shelf’s back panel, there’s a decorative cutout in the shape of a heart, and a small bunny, carved next to it. your heartbeat increases, butterflies fill your chest as you read the back of the note.

“birthday bunny,

carved and touched every corner, every angle, with craving hands, like i’d touch you

something delicate, like the way i think of you when i shouldn’t. fill it with as many books as you want, sweet girl.

j.p.”

your dad refuses to buy you new books because you’ve run out of shelves, dbf!john price builds you a new shelf instead.

imagine soft bunny girl wanting to play a silly little prank on sugar daddy!dilf john price by paying for the check. only an harmless little prank, nothing serious, right?

not for him. as an old fashioned gentleman, he wouldn’t take that well. he’d never let you pay for a single thing, you’re his sugar baby after all (his unconventionally too young girlfriend)

let’s say you’re on a date. restaurant, sweet treat break, anything you’d like, and when you’re done, you stand up in your frilly little skirt, glossed lips, strawberry and vanilla perfume that swirls around him when you lean down to kiss him on the corner of his mouth, right above that mustache you go crazy for.

“be right back sir, lady needs” you use the bathroom excuse, he gruffs out a “aight doll” but instead of heading to the toilet, you secretly go pay. innocent, naive little bunny, you think he’s gonna laugh at that, find it hilarious.

little does he know, you slip to the front and quickly pay the bill, before slipping to the toilet.

but after you actually hop to the bathroom, he stands up. broad shoulders, straight, imposing stance that exudes confidence, pure masculinity that stretches like leather with every step he takes, a cigar that’s not lit yet hanging from his mouth.

he doesn’t say a word, leisurely takes his wallet off the back pocket of his expensive suit jacket and proceeds to hand the card to the waiter, who, cluelessly, just smiles at him,

“the bill has already been paid, sir”

john blinks, once, then twice, maybe his ears are starting to play on him, given his seasoned age. he’s not sure he’s heard that right. so he mutters a rough “ ‘scuse me?”

“yes, the lady who’s here with you paid earlier”

those words feel wrong in his head, unwelcome. he wants to spit them out, but he’s always a man of undeterred and outmost control, composure. only the way his jaw clenches underneath his thick beard, salt and pepper like the mixed thoughts running in his mind, says otherwise.

he doesn’t how how long he remains still like that, buff muscles somehow becoming thicker, building a stonelike wall that prevents the boiling fire within him to flow outside. unmoving, like the endless times spent eyeing the target from afar, waiting like a statue for the perfect moment to bounce on them.

feigned stoicism and broodiness decor his mature face, as he tucks his wallet back inside his pocket with more strength that before — he nods to the waiter, and waits for you outside. when you come back, careless, sugary bunny that hops close to her brown bear, unaware of the way she’s offended his sense of manliness, you grab his hand with both of yours, smiling sweetly, blinking your long lashes. “we can go sir”

“what did you do, doll?” his rough tone should’ve made you halt, but you, sweet soul, think that his usual half, lazy smile is going to appear on his mustache. you shrug, like it’s nothing, really, giggling playfully soft.

“treated you for once,”

he’s gonna find it funny, you thought.

but he doesn’t.

“did i give you permission to do that?”

your smile falters. you blink, bunnies are slow in their movements when they’re processing their surroundings. but then, they haste.

“what? oh, no, but i just wanted to pay for once. it was a j—“

“get in the car, now.”

oh no. you hope you didn’t ruin your date with your little prank. it was supposed to be harmless, just a mere little thing to take him off guard. but—

“it’s fine, you always pay, sir, i thought you’d find it funny that i paid for once” you try to justify yourself, but he doesn’t laugh. his characteristic authority and intimidating nature comes out, a second skin that fits him perfectly.

“i said get in the car, doll, don’t make me repeat myself again, angel”

and when you do arrive home, you don’t even have time to take off your heels. you’ve always been a good girl, obedient, well mannered. you never disobeyed him once.

he never had to punish you for anything.

you squint when he pats his thigh, sitting on the edge of your bed. the rustling of his leather belt being unbuckled. manspreading his legs, he invites you.

”how much did you pay?” his voice could cut on stone, deep, low and husky.

you almost shiver, poor bunny, you keep your eyes down, fidgeting with your hands,

“and don’t lie to me, sweetheart. i can check your account.”

your mumble is almost a mute one as you whisper ”sixty, sir”

his hand looks large, heavy, you knows it’s gonna leave red marks on your butt, as red as your flushing cheeks. ”good. gonna keep count until half of it, come here, princess, thirty spanks, and then you’re gonna be my good girl all over again. understood?”

“but—“

“not mad at you, princess. you’re still my good girl. you didn’t mean to misbehave, daddy knows that. but actions have consequences, angel, even if it was well meant and intentioned, now,”

he patted his thigh again, and you swallowed, docile eyes downturned.

“don’t make me wait, have to put those money back in your account”

dilf old man!vampire john price who doesn’t want to leave his sweet, little girl home alone at night, so he takes her to one of his monthly meetings with the few other vampires he knows in the city. you, being the shy and timid bunny you are, are scared at first, but john keeps a keen eye on you all the time, hand wrapped around your waist protectively (possessively), as he introduces you to his former military teammates, never fully focused on any conversation he’s having because he keeps his attention on you solely, sitting on his lap — he doesn’t want you to feel more out of place than you already do, so he gives you some strawberry juice to sip in a crystal glass, to match the dark red liquid he’s drinking from his glass.

“is that…?” your voice trails off, worry and your emophobia crawling in your scaredy bunny heart — but he places a hand on your thigh, comforting you as he caresses your skin. “easy, easy, love, s’just once a month, dont worry fawn.”

he’s promised you he would stop drinking it unless it was from you (offered willingly) or from bad, mean criminals he and his task force captured :,(

everyone treats you with respect because you're captain john price’s sweet girl, they can’t dare to lay a finger or even their eyes on the oldest, well respected vampire’s personal bunny. but you’re so young, you barely look legal, and john is a silver fox, some guest even mistook you as his daughter when they first saw you with him :( he’s so proud of the huge age gap between you two :)

“where did you guys meet?” a vampire smiles at you friendly, to which you smile back while fidgeting with your cross necklace. “at church”

“john goes to church?”

“well, from what i’ve learnt vampires can’t enter people’s houses without being formally invited, i guess he’d been feeling pretty lonely that day, and he’d decided to visit my local church…since the house of the Lord is open to everyone, it was the only place he didn’t need to ask permission to enter.” you smile kindly at her, john’s large hand tightening around your thigh at the memory, but you can see a smug grin underneath his mustache.

(I don't remember if I sent this kind of plot or not, but—) Bear hybrid!John x Baker! User, please ><

young bunny hybrid baker fem!reader x old man brown bear hybrid!john price, laaarge age gap as always cause its my sweet treat 🥧🍰🐻🐇 although i write about a bunny reader, this is my first fic where she’s an actual real rabbit hybrid!

”wha—what?”

john finally glanced back at you, darting his eyes away from the honey covered pastries behind the glass. your bunny ears perked up, a clear sign of curiosity, and even surprise.

a slow smile made its way through his dark, thick facial hair, even his fluffy, short brown bear ears tickled in response to your own surprise. “yeah, sweet thing. I’ll have all of your honey pastries, please.”

“but—“ you certainly hadn’t expected that. usually, the only large orders that you’d packed had been acts of big donations, preparation for big events or parties, but no one had ever ordered the entire selection of a specific pastry.

you blinked innocently, caught off guard, from behind the counter. that man was huge, a mountain body of a big, buff brown bear, imposing, muscular and broad. his facial hair was thick, dark and littered with gray in all the right spots. “are you sure? this is not a mean prank…right sir?”

he chuckled. you were the most adorable and sweet bunny he’d ever laid eyes on, your soft ears now were slightly downturned, a sign of hesitation, shyness and an innocent that smelled better than the treats you’d baked.

“no, sweet’heart, s’not a joke. gotta store up food at home for the hibernation” he spoke with quiet dominance, a tone of both confidence and tenderness, as if he was amused by your sweetness.

“oh, right..” you blushed, your cheeks red and warm, but you gave him a shy smile, realizing how silly your doubt must’ve sounded — he was a bear hybrid, obviously he’d have to store up some food for his long slumber, “right, sir, sorry, i’ll get them for you”

you leaped, almost jumped, to the back door, gathering as many paper bags as you could, and john’s eyes fell on your uniform skirt, catching sight of a soft, round white fluffy mass of fur on your lower back — your bunny tail, twitching with your every move.

a short, deep sound vibrated from his throat, like a low little growl of acknowledgment. you were sweet, small and delicate, with your red cheeks and twitching ears as you carefully packed the glazy pastries in the bags. you tried to mentally keep count of how many treats you were giving away, but you almost lost count.

he definitely loved honey, you thought. he remained silent, keeping an intense, attentive eye on you, making you flustered and embarrassed, trying to make haste. when you’d finished off filling those bags, your hands were sticky and smelled like honey, and you mindlessly brought one hand to your lips, licking away and sucking the honey off your fingertips.

john's ears twitched, it was almost imperceptible, but his eyes were glued on your fingers. he bet you tasted so much sweeter than honey, sugary and velvety. a young, too young, sweet little thing.

he tucked his hand in the pocket of his trousers, it was large, thick and hairy, and folded some money, that immediately seemed to be way too much more than the actual price he had to pay.

“thank you, doll. keep whatever change there’s left.”

you smiled kindly at him, “oh, thank you, sir—“ but immediately shut your lips when you opened your hands and saw how much money he’d given you. it was too much of a tip. “sir, it’s too much, i can’t accept it”

“of course you can, love, let this old man thank a sweet bunny like you properly” he muttered back, a deep, low and rough tone that fueled your blush, painting your whole face red.

you gently picked the bags and handed them over to him, fluttering your lashes at him with an innocent, gentle smile. “thank you so much, sir, hope you like them. come back if you do!”

he smirked, giving you a wink, noticing how your bunny ears turned backwards and your face flamed red. your heart fluttered and a rush of warmth spread over your belly, and he could smell it, in the midst of all that sugary air, coated with all kinds of cream, biscuits and cookies — your growing arousal.

when john walked outside of the little bakery, he opened the first bag, ready to indulge in one little treat before going home, but before his hand could dwell into it, he noticed a little thin note attached to the bag — he removed it, and his mustache twitched with entertainment when he saw a little sketch of winnie the pooh, next to a little ‘thank you, come again!’ and your name, ending with a heart.

oh, he was definitely coming again. he wanted to taste more than just your pastries.

…dbf!john that has to take care of her while her dads on a business trip?

you were enthusiastic at the idea of finally being able to spend some quiet time home all alone with no yelling from your dad, no loud voices, just peace. but evidently he had different plans for you.

“oh,” you stopped mid walk right in the middle of the stairs, a sudden rush of warmth spreading over your chest and cheeks at the sight of john in your living room, manspreading on the couch “what are you doing here sir?”

john raised both brows in amusement, you were his favorite sight, so sweet and delicate, young and forbidden, “yer dad asked me to take care of y’a while he’s away, doll”

“but i don’t need it, i can be left alone,” you replied hesitantly, walking down the last stairs. your eagerness from earlier was now replaced with your signature shyness and bashfulness, just like every time you were around him — butterflies filled your stomach and you couldn’t even master coherent sentences or thoughts, you excelled in college but turned out a blubbering and stammering mess with this man.

“know you do, angel,” he said, his gruffness somehow softening when talking to you, “just doing my mate’s a favor”

maybe your dad didn’t know it, but he was doing you a favor by letting his best friend stay over. ”alright, sir,” you shrugged softly, and john’s pants almost stiffened—so obedient, so docile all the time. you were such a good girl.

“it’ll fell as if I’m not even home most of the time,” you blushed, feeling out of space in your own house, a squirming bunny underneath his attentive gaze, too warm and sharp to handle

“b’have as if i wasn’t even here, princess, just here to keep an eye on you if somethin’ happens.”

and oh, it felt so torturous, the forced proximity with the man of your dreams, the one out of your league, the only one you wanted. a real man, john was, so old and strong, buff and stern, giving you a sense of protection and control you longed for. you yearned for a sense of security and dominance that only john could give you. if you were the romance, he was the discipline.

dadsbf!john price was such a provider, a caregiver, he took care of everything in the house, made sure to turn on the stove for you when you wanted to make something, he didn’t let you touch any knives, made you breakfast in the morning, brought your fresh ice cream or strawberries when you were reading or studying in your room. but the tension between the two of you was tangible, it frizzled the air anytime you accidentally brushed your hands together or walked next each other — your father’s best friend, too much older than you, in his late 40s, and a sweet, little girl who was barely 21.

he tried so hard to be responsible, the be a military man, a seasoned captain who knew how to resist temptation. but you weren’t a temptation, because temptations could be bad — no, you were sugar, honey. sweet and tender at the touch, to taste, to feed off to. sweet for the soul and healthy for the body, as the bible would say.

but it was even harder for him, to restrain himself, knowing how much you wanted him, you looked at him with the most innocent eyes, batting your lashes at him like a lost puppy, a bunny that wanted to be picked up and cuddled, and thrown over his shoulder and taken care of by a rough, old man.

you always walked around the house in those tiny, mini skirts that hugged your ass, thigh highs that made him want to bite down on his fist, and that innocent bunny demeanor that made him loose his cool — bending over the kitchen counter when you made yourself some strawberry milk, giving him a perfect view of you bottom, or getting on your tip toes to reach for the highest shelves, softly calling him with a “sir? need your help please”

dadsbf!john price who had you sitting on his lap at night, on the couch, reading your lovely book, while he was watching tv, one of his usual movies about missions, shootings and undercover agents. you were all curled up against him, squirming and shifting position every once in a while — john was a patient man, but your cute butt kept pressing against his crotch when you moved, and he had to clench his jaw restrain himself from groaning.

“you uncomfortable, love?”

you only shook your head, lowering the book, revealing your flushed, red blushing face. “sorry sir, ‘s just a fuzzy feeling, it tickles” poor girl you didn’t know what was going on :( how to make this feeling in your belly stop.

“mmh? feel fuzzy, doll?”

and oh, he knew how to make you feel better. he gently grabbed both your hips with his large hands, positioning you between his spread legs, back pressed against his chest — you inhaled, your breath caught in your throat as you felt his rough, calloused hands parting your legs, spreading them for him.

dadsbf!john price who talked you through it, teaching you about everything you didn’t know about yourself, you’d never tried. his thick fingers pressed lazy circles around your clothed clit, his thick beard pressed against your cheek as he spoke with a deep, rough voice.

“this right here…if i touch you here, it’ll feel very good doll. can touch slowly, lightly to let the sensation linger, play with it,”

your breath was ragged, you were nervous, felt exposed, only your oversized cute shirt covering you, those unfamiliar sensations making your head dizzy. you looked down, whimpering when his middle finger and index traced circles over your clit, against your panties, but he quickly reassured you when you mewled, cooing at you and using his free hand to lift your chin.

“shh, shh, eyes up, doll, i’ve got you, princess, look at me,”

you did. he wanted to introduce you to the feeling first, slowly teaching you how to get used to these things. he pressed a kiss on the corner of you mouth, and you whined against him.

“..and if daddy rubs harder, fast, you’ll feel warm inside, on your belly, like this, on your petal,”

“oh- oh gosh—“ you squirmed, biting your bottom lip, a sudden wave of pleasure shot through your legs when, and you involuntarily attempted to close them, but he quickly moved his hand to part them, spreading them wider.

“I know love, I know, feels good little one, easy, easy now, wan’ daddy to stop?”

“nu-uh, please” you could only shake your head, too shy and caught up in the sensation, your cheeks were as red and warm as bright flames and ripe strawberries, blushing fiercely — it felt so good, yet you were so embarrassed you couldn’t even look at him.

“that’s it, bunny, spread them for daddy, good girl, could spend all week like this until your pa’ comes back,” his rich, gruff chuckle vibrated against your back, and you felt your tummy coil at his words — with a twist of his wrist, his hand disappeared underneath your cotton panties, and you flinched on his lap, squirming when his bare fingers started caressing your clit.

dadsbf!john price who taught you how to kiss, pushing his tongue against yours, licking off your lipgloss, chuckling when you needed to breath, before devouring your mouth again, starving, hungry — your arms around his neck like your life depended on it.

dadsbf!john price who would tuck you to bed and hand you your favorite plushie before going to sleep in your father’s empty room,

“can sleep with you if you dont wanna be alone, sir”

“oh doll, as much as i’d love you to, don’t think either of us will get any sleep if you get in bed with me, and that can’t happen, love,”

dadsbf!john price who made sure to not smoke around you, especially inside the house. he’d get to the back patio or front porch to indulge in one of his strong scented, thick cigars. a soft angel like you can’t fill her lungs with such venom.

dadsbf!john price who grinned smugly whenever your dad called him to know how you were doing. he pressed his phone against his ear, hiding his cocky grin underneath his thick beard and mustache.

“doing fine, pal. reads her books, takes her dog out, studies, goes to church. usual things.”

he didn’t tell him how you were kneeling in front of him on the couch, your knees pressed against a plush pillow to not hurt your legs, doe eyes looking at him expectingly, waiting for him to end the call to teach you how to make him feel good with your mouth — his free hand rubbed against your warm cheek, playing with your long hair.

and when he ended the call, he bucked his hips, manspreading, giving you a look that could be both tender and intense, sharp and commanding.

“what did he say, sir?”

“nothing much, princess. misses you,”

you smiled at that. you had daddy issues, didn’t matter how much your dad truly loved you, and he did, he was just incapable of showing it. he didn’t know how to. always moody, serious, yelling at any given moment. you needed a real old man that could love you and treat you like the most delicate and precious girl. you wanted john to do it.

john loved seeing you smile, he couldn’t tell you that he’d made it up, added that last part about the call, just to see you smile, even though your dad hadn’t actually said that.

john was alone, practically married to his job, literally, with much more experience with women you could ever imagine — until God pitied him and decided to send him a little expiatory angel, you.

“aight’, doll, wan’ daddy to show you how to take him with your mouth like a good girl?”

you nodded, hesitantly. your shyness and timidity always had the best of you. but he wanted to take his time with you, protect your sweet purity.

“use your words, love. speak up for daddy, come on”

you blushed and fidgeted with your hands, batting your lashes at him “yes sir,”

“good girl, angel. buttons.” single, short words, speaking with military authority.

you opened his pants with shaky hands, nervously. but he firmly cupped your chin, tilting your jaw up.

“no need to be scared, love, look at you…nervous, are you sweet?” he cooed condescendingly at you, making your bite your lip and nod, puppy eyes big and round.

“just open your mouth and be still. daddy’s gonna help you, if it gets too much for ya, tap my knee. copy that, bunny?”

“yes daddy, mkay” you gave him a little nod, almost shivering at the way his thumb brushed against your bottom lip.

“show daddy your tongue, that’s it. here it is, fuck, gonna be rough with ya, angel, could eat you up, love. good doll, now, zipper down.”

hi angel!! dbf!price when a silly little boy comes to take us out for a date? would love to see it xx

dadsbf!john price doesn’t behave like he somehow owns the place, but he definitely behaves like he owns you, his best friend’s too young and sweet daughter. a raised brow and a questioning look are shot towards the main door when he hears someone knocking, piercing through the poor wooden door like one of his sharp rifles.

your sweet voice chirps from upstairs, yelling a “please get the door!” poor thing you’re still putting your shoes on, spraying perfume and wishing you were going on a date with john instead, your father’s too old best friend. so he stands up, lazily walks towards the door, like a mountain brown bear that strolls with outmost confidence of his surrounding,

his expression completely shifts, darkens even, when he opens the door to find a young, plain college boy at the front. he doesnt like him straight away. he looks too full of himself, too boring, too useless.

he narrows both of his brows now, frowning down at that frat kid, and though he was definitely too old and mature to be glaring down at a kid, he appeared very skeptical and menacing.

“wrong house,” he says it with a fake, almost sardonic smile, unapologetically. he shifts his position, crossing his arms and laying against the doorframe, expecting him to disappear right away. he looks scary, intimidating, with his huge, buff body and thick, dark facial hair. exuding confidence and outmost control.

the poor guy can only look up at him with a confused expression, trying to glance past those board shoulders that were blocking his view. “she gave me this address though,”

no manners, no greetings — john only chuckles, his mustache twitching, barely able to contain a wolfish grin. this guys definitely doesn’t have a chance with you. he’s tempted to tell him that you’re not even here. “not interested, kid.”

but the light tapping of your pink converse echoed behind his back, signaling you were walking down the stairs, quickly, like a jumping little rabbit, until you stopped to stand right next to him. “hi, sorry for making you wait,” you smile at the guy, a sweet and gentle smile, yet not taking enough space on your cheeks. john has seen you smile brighter, everyday you smiled like the sun itself. but now, it appears more polite that anything.

the guy only shrugs, giving you a charming smile that’s doesn’t make you blush. “it’s alright, your dad opened the door,”

at that, john’s jaw clenches, tilting his head in a not amused manner. his hand tickles with the need of punching his face, but he has to remain composed, as a soldier, as a captain, he’s used to facing the most difficult and challenging situations with calmness and composure.

“he’s not my dad,” you quickly reply, sensing john’s body growing stiffer — you smile again, turning towards john, glossed lips and strawberry perfume, adjusting your purse on your shoulder. your big eyes practically silently telling him how that guy was only a substitute for a date you couldn’t have with him. “see you later then, sir?”

“where are you going, doll?” not even acknowledging the guy in front of you, he takes a moment to admire your outfit, warm eyes tracing every inch of you.

“he just, wants to take me to the new ice cream place that has recently opened..”

now he glances at the guy, clearly unimpressed, suspicious and definitely not happy “does your dad know?” his voice sounds rougher than usual, deep and sharp. gruffness slipping from every word.

“yes, sir, it’s just ice cream” you reassure him, though your cheeks are already growing red, warm and flushed at his questions. why doesn’t he take you out then, since he doesn’t like the idea of you going out with a guy?

“i’ll get the car,” the latter says, casually humming and walking down the front porch, jingling his keys as he strolls towards a typical car college parking lots are filled with.

you mentally sigh, trying to remain optimistic about this date. you can’t help by feel nervous, your cheeks are a bright, flaming red and you’re gripping the strap of your purse tighter, somehow embarrassed about john seeing you going out on a date.

“uhm, w-well then i-“ but before you can open your mouth to say anything else, you feel your hand being taken and lifted towards john’s lips, who’s pressing a formal kiss on your palm. your heart flutters, like it always does whenever he kisses your hand, an habit he’s grown accustomed to since meeting you for the first time.

“be careful, doll, call old john if you need anything, or if you wanna get rid of him, ‘aight little one?” he grins against your hand, knowing well that if he can’t jeopardize your little date, he can make sure you’ll be thinking about him the entire time. he knows you need a real man, you need him.

he might not be able to indulge into you like he wants to, but you’re still his little girl nonetheless. he’s never been generous with his possessions, and since the first shy smile, you’ve belonged to him.

dads best friend!john price who tries to concentrate on the conversation he’s having with your dad, but his eyes and focus can’t help but slip away and somehow set on you, how innocent and cute you look reading your book in your little flowery skirt and summery shirt, he’s in his late 40s and you’re barely 21 :,(

you were too shy to introduce yourself, hence why your father finally decided to do that for you, slamming his hand on his friend’s shoulder playfully, looking your direction while he handed him a beer “my golden girl, always has her nose stuck in a book,”

a little bookworm bunny, then, john thought.

and when you father went to the garage to get the necessary equipment for the barbecue, you stood up to get yourself another fresh, bubbly can of strawberry lemonade, closing the book down and placing it on the table as you hopped over the kitchen — when you came back outside, your heart almost stopped beating, sinking to your stomach as you saw your dad’s friend holding your book open, mindlessly reading where you’d placed your bookmark, slightly cocking his brows upward with interest.

you felt your cheeks burn, blushing a bright red as you walked and stopped right next to him, “uhm, that’s— that’s my book, sir” you mentally hoped he didn’t get to that part that you had reached, but the way his sharp, warm eyes slowly set on you, with a amused, entertained expression that exuded confidence and composure, told you otherwise. gosh, you were so embarrassed.

“don’t worry your pretty head, love, nothing i haven’t done already” his voice was so, so deep, rough and low, a gruff huskiness that made you blush even more, shivers run down your bare legs,

“is that what you’re reading, sweetheart? does your father know? arent you too young to read about these things?”

oh my gosh, you wanted to drown in that strawberry lemonade and never come back.

“it’s— it’s private, books are a personal thing and—“ you were just blubbering shyly at this point, but john only let out a dark chuckle, placing the book carefully down and lifting his hand to take a hold of yours. he brought it to his lips, pressing a gentle, warm kiss on your palm, never taking his eyes off you, like a true, old fashioned charming gentleman

“relax, doll, this old man’s only messin’ with you,” the feeling of his mustache against your skin was a tickling sensation, rough yet soft enough, “captain john price, beautiful, at your service, little one”

you blinked your puppy eyes at him, practically lovestruck, unable to move, your face turning into flames — swallowing back down, you gave him a polite, gentle little smile. “nice to meet you, sir,”

“pleasure’s mine, bunny” he grinned against your hand, planting one last kiss before gently putting it down and handing you your book back, with a look that promised many, many things, things a girl as young and innocent as you shouldn’t think about. oh gosh, you were in for such trouble.

dads best friend old man!john price who meets his teammate’s young, sweet and shy little daughter when he’s invited home to have a casual dinner with his longtime friend and colleague.

he knew his friend had a daughter, he’d heard about you but he’d never seen you — and when he came in, he saw how dollish and innocent you actually looked, perched comfortably on the sofa with a strawberry lemonade in your hand and an open book on your lap, bare legs cuddled underneath your butt, thighs barely covered by your soft, flowery skirt as you were mindlessly reading your lovely book — barely of age, a little bunny minding her comfort in her little cozy space. you lifted your angelic face from your book only to be met with that military veteran, all rugged looks, intimidating with his buff and muscular body, his thick, dark hair and graying beard — unable to hide your evident blushing cheeks, blossoming into a vibrant and bright red, you only gave him a polite, timid smile, quickly darting your head down and hide behind the pages, with a fluttering heart beating fast in your chest.

john let his eyes slowly travel over your figure, the string of curious amusement pulling at the corner of his lips, making his mustache twitch slightly — such a little pretty thing you were, ribbons in your hair and big, doe eyes, you really must’ve been your father’s precious darling, looking like the most innocent bunny he’d ever seen, so young

only the voice of your father calling him from the kitchen and telling him to come have a beer with him pulled his attention away from you, and with one last lazy, shameless glance over you, he began walking steadily and confidently towards the kitchen, leaving you in flames, burning red and staring at the way the muscles of his back flexed with every movement, his broad shoulders stretching underneath his shirt — he was the most attractive and charming man you’d ever seen, mature looking and handsomely seasoned, and definitely too old, maybe even older than your own father’s age (perfect for you)

with a tiny, silent breath, you blinked down at the book again, trying to jump right back into that forbidden love story you’d been reading, and to not imagine your dad’s best friend as the main love interest, who just so happened to be too much older than the girl protagonist and more that twice her age :)

scary dog privilege with your old, gruff and scary sugar daddy!john price?

given you’re always a well mannered girl, you never cause conflicts, but if something were to happen with someone and you wanted to take advantage of your daddy being scary, old, intimidating and huge to just defend you?

maybe at the bar, a rude costumer not even lifting their eyes from the table as they ordered something else from you, without acknowledging your presence or saying hi, politely.

”another beer with ice,”

you decide to give him the benefit of the doubt, and tilted your head, speaking with your usual polite and sweet voice. “im sorry?” “another beer, at my table” same tone, same words, not even a smile.

clearly you hadn’t heard that wrong — your expression softened, and you lowered your notebook, looking like an upset bunny who’d just gotten offended,

you were always so sweet and kind with everyone, and john often tried to teach you that not everyone would always reciprocate your kindness, he wanted to warn you about mean, rude people who would upset his little girl :(

but you always got sad, not understanding why people couldn’t just be nice.

“no, sir, excuse me, i was waiting for you to say please, you could at least look at me you know..”

he frowned, narrowing his eyes like you’d said the most incoherent thing in the world, and gave you an ironic look “it’s your job to serve me a drink, dear”

you blinked your eyes, dumbfounded, hoping he’d understand what you were gently trying to say, keeping a low tone of voice “yes, and as a human being, your job is to be polite and kind? where are your manners?”

“little lady, what’s your problem? im paying you, you’re not giving me a gift, little girl”

“yet kindness is free,” you were undeterred, crossing your arms over your blouse and giving him an exasperated look, tilting your hip.

he shifted on his chair, crossing his legs together and throwing his arm behind the chair’s head. “let me speak with the manager, then”

“oh, you can speak directly to my boss, if you’d like” you shrugged, aware of how that situation would end up, and strolled down to john’s usual private table, walking calmly and quietly.

once in front of him, you leaned forward and pressed your hands flat against the wooden table’s surface, stretching your arms, wearing the most innocent and docile look “daddy,”

john turned his attention towards you, his half empty glass of whiskey trapped between his firm, thick fingers “there’s the love of my life, what is it, doll face?”

you leaned closer to him, tilting your head slightly, practically almost bending over his seat “a costumer wants to talk to you, he’s gonna complain about me because i wouldn’t serve him unless he asked politely,”

you blinked your dollish, doe eyes at him, so big and round and innocent they told him ‘take my defense and then fuck me, please’, a little pout making you push out your bottom lip.

”does he now…” john muttered under his breath, his warm eyes slowly taking in every inch of your figure, your lacy thigh highs and uniform skirt — he lifted is glass to let the liquid trail down his throat with a swift, fast seep, before setting it down “aight, doll, daddy’ll take care of it, princess, don’t worry”

he gripped the armrest of his chair, pushing himself up to a standing position, but you quickly reached for him and gently grabbed him by the sleeve

“he wasn’t mean, sir, he just didn’t want to say please and you know how much that upsets me..please don’t get angry at him” the way you furrowed your brows together was so adorable price had to physically restrain himself from just picking you up and throw you over his buff shoulders

but he gave you a little frown, lifting his hand to pinch your chin affectionately, grabbing it in between his forefinger and thumb “how many times have i told you you’re always too nice, love? people are gonna take advantage of that, doll”

you straightened your back, locking your hands together behind your back and lifted your chin, letting him squeeze your it again “but that’s why I have you to come rescue me, daddy…”

he let out a deep chuckle, briefly shaking his head before he let go of your chin with a last, little squeeze “these blokes can’t even let this poor old man rest in peace, how can someone be rude to such a sweet girl, they really like pissing me off huh? got the nerve to disrespect my girl”

and with that, he walked past you, towards the guy who’d just been too busy to ask you nicely, or say a simple ‘please’’ — but john had promised he’d never let anyone mistreat his polite girl’s manners, especially inside his own bar.

you just need reassurance from old sugar daddy!john price aaall the time — bunnies are territorial, especially a soft, young, little bunny girl like you… (laaaarge age gap, reader is 21 and price is in his late 40s)

“what the heck is a barracks bunny?”

the urgency behind your voice rung in john’s ears like an alert bell, like the one he’d always felt when he’d been a lieutenant — he hadn’t expected you to stomp in front him like that, phone in hand and frowning.

“what? who taught you this word, doll? was it Johnny-“

your sweet voice interrupted him, followed by your free hand, lifted upwards towards him in a dismissive manner, “no no, sir, pleaser, answer my question.”

he’d never seen you like this, hand adorably set on your hip, titled in the most delicate yet delicious way, doe eyes narrowed and slightly squinted, excepting an answer — your sweet, sweet bunny features clearly petty over something.

always so polite and obedient, so sweet and kind, what had gotten into you?

“is there one at the base, sir? I promise, if the answer is yes i-“

but you stumbled on your own words, because as soon as he caught the sparks of irritation in your voice, he stood up, straightening his muscular and broad shoulders — he looked down at you, his buff body that always picked you up so effortlessly slowly inched closer to you.

“you what, doll? mmh?” his voice sounded rougher, a hint of threatening warning behind it.

you flattered your lashes, tenderly, a silent, docile sign of submission in the midst of that moment,

“is there one, sir?” you repeated, your voice small but steady, tilting your head all the way up to meet his intense, sharp gaze.

“you already know the answer, princess, of course not. where did you even learn that from?”

”it doesn’t matter, sir, I-“ you replied dismissively, but his voice rumbled taking over your own, a low, gruff baritone that echoes deeply in your eardrums

“asked you a question, sweetheart. where.”

you swallowed, your eyelids trembling softly as you blinked up at him, shifting your position — when bunnies felt neglected, they pushed their nose against their owner’s body, seeking, demanding attention and clarification.

“everyone on the internet is talking about being afraid of their men in the military possibly having one, and-“

“and you immediately thought we’d have one at the base, huh doll?”

you softened your expression, and he could finally recognize his bunny back, obedient and gentle “you can’t blame me sir, i was only worried, was simply a question, i never know what really goes on in the base and—“

“no, no, no doll, you need to remember who you’re talking to, even when you ‘only want to ask’” he lifted his large hand and cupped your chin, squeezing your cheeks with a firm, yet gentle enough grip. “understand?”

your cheeks burned, bright and red between his calloused fingers, “I know but—“

a flicker of warning passed through his thin, squinted eyes like a shooting star, “do you understand, doll?”

you pressed your lips together, the serious look behind his eyes making your imaginary bunny ears tug down, back towards your head, and your tail tuck between your legs — you only nodded, still holding the same pouty expression.

he tilted his head expectantly, deepening his voice and cooing down at you, slightly raising his brows “that’s not how you answer me, is it sweetheart?”

“yes, daddy,” you finally let the words slip out, eyes softening even more when you recognized the tiny twitch of his mustache, that tried to hide and disguise his growing entertainment —

your cheeks burn brightly, a warm, red blush that almost felt warm against his calloused fingers, how could he be mad at his bunnygirl for being worried about her daddy? you’re so clingy and possessive, and it amuses him :(

with a short tug of you chin, he lifted your face closer to his, mere inches from his beard as he almost breathed against your lips, his voice so rough and low it sounded the rumble of distant fireworks.

“we don’t have that sort of thing in the base, angel, would never allow it, the only bunny I have hopping around me is you, little one. guess that makes you the captain’s personal barracks bunny, doesn’t it?”

sugar daddy!john price x sugar (cry)baby soft!fem reader, laaaarge age gap, price is in his late 40s and reader is 21, suggestive, daddy kink obviously

you’re sugar daddy!john price’s good girl, always eager to be pampered and showered with compliments — you just wanna be his good obedient little girl.

in and out of bed, you’re the most precious, obedient bunny girl, with the most evident praise kink, just wanting big old daddy price to call you his “good girl” — and oh john surely loves to give you what you need, always muttering with his rough, deep voice a “you’re such a good girl for daddy, aren’t you angel? atta girl, that’s a good girl”

and you’re content, soft and sweet :)

but — one time, john finds himself wondering if maybe your shyness isn’t preventing you from wandering into a different flowery path than the usual one you love lingering on,

you trust him with everything, but being the pillow princess that you are, the only way he could ever find out if you were into something else, would be by rolling his sleeves and taste the waters himself.

his hand grasp a fistful of your hair with the roughness you’ve grown to love, pulling your fragile body closer to him, until your back is pressed against his hairy, muscular and bulky chest — your cheeks are warm and red, and you can already picture the upcoming praise that’ll fall from his lips like petals, that’ll wrap you up in such a fuzzy feeling of contentment in the midst of all that harshness, roughness that makes you melt like strawberry and vanilla pudding in his hands….

he’s too caught up in the sensation, his young doll being so warm and soft around him — even if he’s a rough, hard dom, he always, always balances his harshness with gentle, tender words, praises and affirmations — always, until…

“y’er such a needy nasty little girl, look at you, a whimpering mess for you old man, isn’t that right? can’t even speak or think properly, sweetheart, used like a mere toy—“

…until the words that this time come next are unfamiliar, and your already ragged breath stills completely — your body stiffens, and you narrow your sweet eyes down towards the messy sheets, surprise striking through you like an unexpected lighting during a spring day. what?

where’s the ‘good girl, taking me so well angel, you’re so well behaved”

what? what happened to the praising part?

your chin wobbles, and a little, strangled meek sound bubbles from your throat — the corners of your eyes start feeling heavier, and a watery veil falls over them as delicate, little tears fill them up.

and price — when you tilt your head to look at him from over your trembling shoulder, frowning and glossy eyed with a look of confusion and hurt — oh gosh, he almost dies right there. you definitely aren’t into that, and he’s messed it up.

“doll— oh no princess, don’t cry baby—“ his growly, raspy words trail off as he realizes he’s said the wrong thing and you’re crying over his mean words. “shh, shh sweetheart,”

you let out a little mewl, and another pearly tear runs down your cheek, but he quickly coos down at you, hovering over your back and pressing a kiss on your teary face, “oh love, im sorry, don’t cry angel, fuck, you’re daddy’s good girl, you’re always my good, perfect girl”

you sniffle, your pouty lips quivering as his strong, heavy hands turn you around, laying you on your back against the mattress to face him “what was that, sir…?”

“nothing, angel, nothing, i didn’t mean it my love, daddy’s sorry, sweet thing,” every gruff, lowly spoken reassurance is followed by a kiss on your cheeks and lips, silly him, he just wanted to see if his little bunny would like to try a different type of candy…

swallowing back another sob, you look like an upset, sad little bunny, and you’re tempted to roll over and hide beneath the blankets.

oh he’d definitely have to make it up to you, how could he make his poor delicate good girl distress like that, although unwillingly?

“didn’t like it daddy..” you mumble softly, tilting your head and squinting your eyes when his mustache tickles your cheekbone

his warm, calloused hands rub your waist soothingly, caressing your hips as your limp arms locked around his neck, “I know love, I know princess, you’re my delicate, sweet, good girl, daddy‘s proud of you, bunny, I apologize, my lady…can this mean, bad daddy make it up to you, mmh, love?”

it’s hard to stay offended when his buff, bear body is pressed delectably heavily against you, muscles ripping and flexing underneath scarred skin — your cheeks flush red, burning bright, and you only nod, still pouting.

cause you know he didn’t really mean it :,(

it’s in your nature, good girls want to be praised affectionately, just like bunnies only want to be pet, and never scolded.

Do you think John would be the type to wake up with the deep husky, still half asleep type of voice?

oh my goodness gracious absolutely YES

his voice gets even deeper upon waking up, rough and different from the usual confident, commanding tone he carries — it rambles through his chest like the awakening of a earthquake, its coarse, husky and drowsy.

“Mornin’, love,”

oh my gosh, it’s such a warm sound, it sends a flame right through your belly and paints your cheeks red, first thing in the morning.

and when his heavy arm is draped across your waist, caressing your spine with thick, scarred fingers, rasping out your name in that voice?

you definitely cannot fight the urge to slip away from the soft duvets and climb on top of him, both legs swinging on his sides — and that’s the first sun he sees upon waking up, your smile and gentle doe eyes, warmer than any sunlight.

“good morning daddy, did you miss me while you were asleep?” you giggle, playfully, both hands lightly caressing his muscular and hairy torso (dad body dad body dad body)

“yeah doll, was fightin’ the sleep monster to let me see my little bunny,” he chuckles, warmly and deeply.

his voice should be illegal, you always try and tell him that smoking so much is bad for his health, but those cigars have shaped his voice in the most alluring way ever — even his british accent gets thicker, more pronounced, coarse, lethal, it could cut the air around you.

“should try and read my books out loud to me…” you tilt your head, and a glimmer of confident amusement twinkles in his eyes, at the sight of your red, warm cheeks.

“blushing already, sweet thing?”

he sounds like a grizzly bear.

(˶˃ᆺ˂˶) ໒꒰ྀི ∩ ⸝⸝ ∩ ꒱ྀིა

HII SWEATHEART

me again i hope i am not bothering you but i love your writing and you seem to be so so sweet and kind!! what about reader hearing someone at the bar or other place talking bad about Price and she goes to defend him in a very cute way but the person end up being very rude to her and she has to hold her tears?

again love the way you write never stop!

oh teddy bear you could never bother me promise you if anything im flattered by your kind n nice words thank you so so much muffin !! i think God has put me into this world to be kind and sweet with everyone, being kind is what i love doing the most <333 thank you for this req i just love this idea smmmm ┊͙ ˘͈ᵕ˘͈

🥧 | sugar daddy!john price x sugar baby fem! reader, laaarge age gap, john is in his 40s n reader is 21, rude ppl :(, crybaby reader, little defending her dd?? ughhhh

that costumer was a bit too loud for your taste, his voice rising above the gentle conversations around him. He had a beer in his hand and an annoyed look on his face as he vented to his friend,

“yeah, the owner’s only good at scaring people away from his own bar, acting like he’s on the field all the time, can’t do this, can’t do that, a washed up grump that keeps barking orders like he owns the damn whole town”

you froze mid-wipe, the little cloth pressed tight between your fingers and the wooden countertop, as you carefully looked over your shoulder, towards those men — his voice was a bit too loud for your liking, his words a bit too offensive.

”he’s so arrogant too, its a surprise he doesn’t shoot people for even looking at him,”

John? your, John?

your eyes softened, and your poor, gentle heart sank upon hearing those people talk so meanly about your man :( especially when they couldn’t be more distant from the truth.

they didn’t lie when they said that it was easier to defend someone you loved and cared about, than yourself, which is why you straightened your back, placed the cloth on the side and filled a glass with water, aiming towards their table.

“excuse me,” wearing your most polite, nicest costumer smile, although you could feel it falter on your lips, you placed a glass of water down on their table, “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation and…thats not nice, he could be here and hear you, you know?”

the man took a slow deep of his beer, giving you a disinterested look, before smirking behind his glass and lowering it.

“oh, I see,” he said with a sarcastic lilt. “You’re one of those, huh? Gold diggers, defending the old man.” He leaned back, crossing his arms. “let me guess…some big, tough man that pays you to be nice with him, just because he can shoot a gun and bark orders doesn’t make him a good person, or a hero”

your sweet smile dropped and you blinked, your chest tightening. You hadn’t expected this. You hadn’t expected to be ridiculed—especially when all you wanted to do was stand up for him, gently, even.

your cheeks burned red with embarrassment, and you could feel your throat constricting, but you held your ground, forcing yourself to speak and maintaining a well mannered voice.

“I—I’m not a gold digger, and- you don’t even know him..you really should be careful about judging someone without even knowing who they are, especially when you’re coming to his bar”

the man rolled his eyes and scoffed. “please, save me the lecture, darling. That man has become filthy rich working with the americans, and when he gets back here he acts like a hero of the country, he should just retire soon, we only come here cause the liquor is old and expensive, just like him”

you stood there, trying to keep your composure, but the words cut deeper than you expected — a lump formed in your throat, and you could feel the sting of tears threatening to escape, you were never good at handling emotions or conversations, the the slightest rude word made you cry.

“he works in the military to protect people, and he’s not a bad man, that’s just- that’s rude, why can’t you just be nice? he’s just doing his job, and he helps people in need-“

“did he pay you to say that too, it only took one slip to his bed, right?”

that’s what you did when you felt like you couldn’t keep up with talking anymore, you ran — without waiting for another response, you turned away, walking back to the bar, frustration sparking off every step of your heels.

why was confronting people so hard? it didn’t surprise you that you only felt safe with John around

the lump in your throat tightened, and before everyone could see the promise of tears being revealed on your soft, kind face, you walked down towards his office, but felt a large hand on your waist, stopping you.

you whipped around, your heart racing.

it was John.

“hey, hey, doll, what’s going on?” he let his eyes dart worriedly around your weary face, tilting his head to peer down at your teary expression — his rough, yet gentle tone cut through the emotional fog that had settled over you “why are you crying, my love?”

you blinked, trying to steady yourself, but your vision blurred with unshed tears. His eyes softened as he stepped closer, his large hands resting on your shoulders.

“did someone say something?” he asked, his voice lowered, sounding more protective, you could hear the slight tone of warning and threat towards whoever might have made you cry. 

a single tear slipped down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away, embarrassed. But John didn’t seem bothered by it — he’d learned peoples’ different body languages throughout the years, especially yours, his little girl expressed herself through tears, it was his role as a caregiver to read behind the delicate pearls.  

“they were saying mean stuff about you, sir, didn’t like that, just wanted to…to defend you, that’s it, but they thought i was a gold digger and..other things that I don’t wan’ you to hear,”

he quickly caught a silent tear with his thumb, wiping it away and pressing his hand against your cheek “angel, you don’t have to fight my battles, I assure you I don’t care about anyone’s opinion, couldn’t care less, princess, im a grown man,”

“but its unfair, i hate when people say mean things about others…you always treat me so well and they don’t know it, you weren’t even there to say something”

he cooed down at you, the tiniest hint of a small smile tilting his mustache upwards “oh sweetheart, i appreciate it, im honored to be defended by such a cute, loyal bunny, mmh??” he scratched your chin with two fingers, making you smile softly between your tears, and wipe your cheeks, still sniffling, finally feeling comfortable enough to let the faucet running.

“let daddy handle this, I sure as heck don’t fuckin’ care about what others say, love, too old to mind, only care about this pretty thing right here” he lifted his fingers, pushing your chin upwards and giving your nose a little kiss “no more tears for daddy, got it? he can take care of himself,”

you nodded, he exuded control and authority all the time, like nothing ever touched him, and with yet another kiss on your lips this time, slow and firm, he tilted his head towards his office. “wait for daddy there, aight? I’ve ordered some apple cider to try and sell at the bar, for people with health issues that can’t drink alcohol. Go try it and tell daddy if it’s good, okay?”

you almost let your chin wobble again at how thoughtful the idea was, but only nodded again, reaching up to give him another kiss before slipping to his office like a hopping rabbit.

john straightened his back, cracking his neck, his bones emitting a sound he didn’t like. With a serious, unimpressed look, he strolled down towards the tables, his eyes finally finding those two men.

simon and gaz had warned him about some bastards making his missus cry, that’s why you didn’t found him in the office, he’d been looking for you.

without saying a word, he appeared behind them, and clasped his hands tight against the back of their necks, gripping them in a fake, friendly greeting gesture, using too much force — they almost jumped on their seat, their drinks almost slipping from their hands.

“gentlemen, heard ya were' talkin' 'bout me. If ya so bloodyy' interested in me story, you can ask, I don’t bite, what ya say? maybe ya want to enlist with me? want to feel the drill of a mission, maybe not coming out alive?”

hello!! i hope this is okay and that you’re taking requests because i absolutely adore your writing! your relationship with God and spirituality is also really special to me, i love to see how you connect with Him <3

could i please request a comfort fic, perhaps about sweet reader having subdrop and aftercare fluff? or just any sweet fluff with the dynamic you write. i hope you’re doing well, thank you for the wonderful content!!

I saw this req this morning and it made me smile sooo much, thank you for the kind and sweet words bubble bee, im genuinely head over heels over this message <333 im glad you can see through how special my relationship with God is, he’s literally my comfort person and i love showing how much he means to me and how much i love him, he’s so good and kind and caring ૮ ⸝⸝o̴̶̷᷄ ·̭ o̴̶̷̥᷅⸝⸝ ྀིა by the way, i love writing about daddy price in the ddlg setting, id regress all the time with him 🐰

🍼 | ddlg, agere dynamic, sugar daddy dom!john price x sugar baby little!fem reader, pure fluff, laaarge age gap, reader is 21 and john is in his mid 40s, might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but shows what their relationship also consists of.

you only wanted to be held, loved and protected by a strong, old and gruff man :( and sugar daddy!john price was the best caregiver ever to toy.

you were his little girl, so young and innocent, didn’t want to worry about adult life :( could be his princess in peace n let him handle all the responsibilities that came with being an grown up.

those burdens and life expectancies stilled the moment you sat down on john’s lap, recharging your little self, and basking in your daddy’s attention — he could read you with a single glance, the redness of your cheeks, the way your eyelids grew a bit heavier, your fidgety movements and incoherent mumbles, your clinginess, they all spoke volumes about your needs.

he moved his lips to your temple, pressing a few kisses on top of your head, his mustache was pressed against your hair, rubbing it affectionately “what’s wrong, sweetheart? feeling little, mmh?”

you nodded against his chest, curled up like a lap bunny, your legs swinging over his — you had to act like a big girl outside, just to come back home to him and sink deep into sub space. ૮꒰っ˕‹̥̥̥ ꒱ა

“dont wanna do anything today, sir,” you closed your eyes took a deep breath, enjoying the feeling of his muscular, chiseled chest radiating warmth against your body, his bulging arms holding you close to him.

“have to study, but i just wanna lie down ‘n rest, read my books, watch cartoons n drink hot cocoa..don’t wanna be an adult, it’s tiring, wanna be carefree, live the kind of life God has promised us,” you snuggled your face against his pectorals, and his arm quickly moved to your head, large and warm as it begun to caress your hair, brush it with his bare fingers

“I know, doll face, don’t have to worry about a single thing, sweet girl, just be daddy’s little girl, you have me to take care of you” he pressed another kiss to your temple, and you lifted your head from his chest, pushing your bottom lip out and looking at his lips, letting him lower his head and meet your lips with eager compliance,

you titled your head to give him more access, and his tongue pushed deep into your mouth, pressing against yours, making you pour a soft, delicate whine into his mouth, which he quickly took possession of, devouring it.

he pulled away, your lips only inches apart, his warm, breath caressing your flushed, red cheeks, but you wanted another one, neediness flowing into your body and making you even clingier — you pressed your mouths together again, open mouthed kisses that he accepted with an amused, entertained expression, his sharp, intense eyes never leaving you.

“careful, angel, might give this old man a heart attack with all this affection,” his gruff joke, mumbled roughly, made you giggle against his lips, and you gave him a sweet smile, your eyes as glittery as those sticker sheets you — unexplainably to him — liked to collect.

“can you use your words to tell daddy what you need right now baby, mmh? wanna be my little girl?”

you nodded shyly, your fingers playing with the strap of his watch, “ben n Jerry’s…”

“wanna eat ice cream on daddy’s lap? your favorite flavor?”

“yes daddy, please” you nodded again and gave him your puppy pleading eyes, feeling appreciative for his understanding and deep, gentle love towards you — he was such a fierce, bulky man that only learned how to be gentle with his hands to hold you, his little princess :(

“your wish is my command, my lady, come here,” he stood up, effortlessly carrying you with him and locking your legs around his waist with a single arm, “I’ll get your favorite stuffie, probably wonders where his momma is, mmh?”

(っ˃̣̣̥ -˂̣̣̥ς)

“sleepy,” you mumbled against his neck, letting him carry you with minimal no effort — he chuckled deeply, and patted your butt playfully, “yeah babygirl, nap time after ice cream, so daddy can go do some work stuff, deal?”

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 :)

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”

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.”

Soap has found a playful way to entertain yourselves with the new lights you’ve bought for the Christmas tree…

| 🍪 mdi please, suggestive, fem!reader is 21 and johnny is waaay much older, I had this one shot in mind for a while and thought I would write it down for soapy (probably first and last time cause I’m a loyal price girlie)

“don’t really trust these things ‘nny…”

your sweet voice is tinted with worry and hesitation as you wiggle your wrists, the motion only tightening the knot that bounds them together over your head and against your mattress “what if they start burning?”

johnny, as the faux gentleman he is, coos condescendingly down at you, but the sound that was meant to be reassuring reverberated like a deep, sultry growl in your ears — almost mocking.

“christmas lights that burn at the touch were a thing back in the 80’s, lass, not now,” he lectures you amusedly, his words inevitably pointing out to your evident large age gap — perhaps too large.

“they were so pretty, they played Christmas music an’ ye could hear it all the way from yer room... but ye werenae even born yet at that time, bonnie lass, ye couldnae know about it”

he lets out a rough chuckle, eyes fixed on the way the colorful lights shine over the skin of your wrists at an alternated rhythm, your belly twists with the familiar warm tingle that makes you blush every time he reminds you of how much, much older than you he was.

“you’re going to break them, we’ve just bought them” you whine, raising your head against the pillows to look at the colorful bulbs that tie your hands together, orange, green, red and blue alternating their shimmering “we have to put them on the tree”

“don’t worry, dove, won’t,” he smirks down at you, scarred hands ready to uncover the treasure that lies between your legs — they start pulling down the fluffy pajama pants you’re wearing, the tip of his calloused fingers tracing a hot trail along your thighs “n if I do, I’ll get ye new ones before Christmas Day comes”

once your lacy white panties are revealed, he nearly purrs at the sight, the best gift he could ever get lying down underneath him, ready to be unwrapped, his pretty, sweet girl. “I’ll make ye feel s’good ye won’t even have to write any letter to Santa, ye’ll give me all the cookies”

he must’ve been a pretty good lad all year to deserve such a precious thing as you.

“y’trust yer man, right dove?”

it’s hard not to crumble down like gingerbread cookies with the way he looks at you, cunning and sly eyes pouring down all the love and desires he has for you — so you just blink cutely at him, red, puffy cheeks and fluttering, big eyes. “i do…”

he grins at that, his hand swiftly grabbing his buckle and almost ripping the zipper down, his other hand tugs you in by your waist, harsh enough to press his crotch against your blossom and hips slam together.

“that’s my pretty girl, I’ll take ya to the bookstore right after, what’ya say? ye can pick however many ye want and I’ll get ye hot chocolate, deal?”

and with that, he knows you’re sold.

imagine sugar daddy price coming across soft fem!reader’s my melody underwear while he proceeds to…

“who’s that?”

you halt at the puzzlement in his rough, gruff voice, and your eyes flutter down.

you push your upper body forward, lifting your back from the silky, pinky pillows around you to meet his perplexed gaze — his eyes are staring at your panties, his brows pulled together by an invisible tread, carving a quizzical wrinkle between them as he’s met with the friendly, tender image of the white and pink bunny.

“that’s my melody” you reply timidly, your signature and typical shyness replaced now by a soft tenderness.

he furrows his eyes deeper, and you can’t help but tilt your head and giggle, john price, a captain, leading a secret military task force, a man that feared nothing and no one and that always exuded control and authority, was now left dazed and staggered by the sight of a girlish fictional character

“who?”

“my favorite sanrio character,” you add once more, blinking down at him as if stating the most notorious global knowledge ever “my melody”

“sanrio?” he only echoes your own words, not quite catching the familiarity in which they apparently stand to you.

“yes, daddy, like hello kitty, you know?” you try to explain with your usual soft spoken demeanor, finding the whole situation very amusing

“I think I’ve heard of it..” he doesn’t sound too convinced, cocking a dark brow upwards untrustingly, while his scarred, large hands rest on your bare thighs, still holding the hem of your cotton shorts that now lay above your knees.

poor man, he wasn’t used to the young generation’s new trends, he still had to catch up with certain things, new words, styles and characters, they made him feel so old ;(

but he was your old man :)

”please don’t rip them sir,” you’re quick to say, when he shifts his muscular body down, his eyes focused on every little heart embroidered next to my melody’s figure, “I really like them, and sanrio items are pretty expensive..”

that’s all you had to say to make his characteristic confidence grow back, a shadow of smugness reappearing all over his handsome, maturely aged, ruggedly attractive features — “luckily, that’s what daddy’s here for, right princess?”

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.”

“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.