John Price Imagine - Blog Posts

Massage

Summary: You give Price a massage after he gets back from a particularly hard deployment.

Pairing: John Price x fiancée!reader

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warnings: mentions of injury(nothing too graphic), light sexual mentions, John Price(because let's be honest this man is a warning okay), fluff, 18+ MDNI

A/N: So Price won by a landslide in the poll😂 here's one of the fics I had planned so I hope yall enjoy! I did right this pretty drunk so apologies if it isn't great

Also, I didn't expect so many people to vote so thank you all so much!😭🫶🏼 Requets are also open!! Feel free to send in whatever you want just make sure it follows my blog rules! I've also got a few more fics in my drafts as well :)

***beware of typos(I tried my best to catch them all)

John turned the ignition off and his truck came to a stop. He looked at the house the two of you shared and smiled as he took in the warm glow coming from the window. Before you came into his life the house was cold and dark; he preferred coming home to this rather than the dark windows he used to. John opened the door and stepped out, wincing as he irritated the bruised muscles. This last deployment was harder than most; although everyone made it back alive, and for that he was thankful, going hand-to-hand with a mercenary ended with the mercenary dead but John fell from a metal walkway grate to the ground below. It resulted in a number of bruises, scratches, and a sprained shoulder.

John lifted his duffle bag out of the back seat and thought about how you would fret over the bruises that blemished his skin. You always checked him when he came home to see if he gained any new scars or broken body parts and he found it endearing. He walked slowly toward the door, his sore body preventing him from going faster. He dug in his pocket for his key and slipped it into the lock before stepping inside. “Love I’m home,” He called out, setting his duffle bag down by the door with a sigh of relief to have the weight off of his injured shoulder; he had a brace that kept him from moving his shoulder but it did nothing for the annoying pain of putting weight on it.

“Back here!” He heard your voice coming from the shared bedroom so he toed off his boots and walked down the hallway. He saw soft light coming from the bathroom and when he walked in he saw something that made his breath catch in his throat. You were in the bathtub with your hair loosely pulled back and sipping on a glass of wine, candles casting a warm illuminating glow. It wasn't anything overly sexual but it still made his face flush; here he was nearing forty and you made him feel like a school boy. “Hey love,” he said, taking in the sight of you before bending down and giving you a kiss. “I’m so glad you’re home,” You said, a heavy weight finally lifting off your chest at seeing your fiancée back in one piece. The black brace over his beige shirt was not lost on you but you didn’t say anything as you decided it was not as bad as it could be. “How’s the bath?” John asked. “You could always join me and find out,” You said, taking a sip of the red wine, looking at him over the rim of the glass. “Now how could I say no to that?” He smirked.

He took off the brace that was nothing but uncomfortable before undoing his belt and stripping off his pants. He slipped off his shirt, wincing as his shoulder twinged, and heard you gasp. “John!” You did your once over to ensure he hadn’t come home severely injured when your eyes landed on the bruises that colored his torso. “What the hell happened?” You asked, wincing when you thought about what could’ve caused such bruises. “If I told you that love, you’d be even more frantic,” He chuckled. “Don’t laugh John!” You chastised. John slipped in behind you after stripping completely, groaning at the warm water, and let you rest against him. “I’m sorry love but don’t freak out too much,” He replied. “They really do look worse than they are,” He added, planting a kiss on your head. He felt you relax more, as if you were afraid of hurting him, and he sighed. The weight of you pressed against him was actually comforting and he wrapped his arms around you. “At least you came home to me alive,” You said. “Just like I promised,” John replied, a long sigh leaving his body.

The two of you just sat there for a little while, your thumb absentmindedly grazing John’s arm; grateful to have your fiancée back. You felt him rest his head on your shoulder and his weary body sagged as he relaxed. You shifted and accidentally pressed your weight on one of John’s bruises and he grunted. “I’m sorry babe!” You said, turning around to sit on his lap carefully trying to avoid the purple-ish tender spots. “Don’t worry I’m tougher than I look,” He joked, running his hands along your sides. “You know,” You started, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I think I know of a way to make you feel better,” You said in a slow voice. “Oh yeah? I think I’m liking where this is going,” John replied, planting a kiss on your nose, then your cheeks, and finally your lips. ‘Hmm… I like the way you think but I was actually thinking about a massage,” You said. “Help those aching muscles,” You offered and smiled as he smirked. “Now that’s a good way to welcome a man home,” he said with a cheeky grin. “Why don’t you go lay on the bed and I’ll dry off and get the oil,” You suggested and stepped out of the tub.

You felt John’s hungry eyes on you and you grinned; John always made you feel desirable even on your worst day. You heard the water splash as John stepped out after pulling the plug, dripping water on the floor. You wrapped yourself in a towel and felt him swat your ass, eliciting a squeal out of you as he laughed. “Don’t take too long,” He said. John also grabbed a towel and quickly dried himself, being mindful of his injuries, and pulled on a clean pair of boxers. You emerged from the bathroom with a bottle of baby oil and saw John lounging on the bed, his pupils blown wide with lust as he watched your towel clad body. “See something you like?” You teased, before dropping the towel leaving you stark naked and John groaned. “I think you should stay like this all the time,” He said, a bit disappointed when you pulled on a bra and panty set. “I suggest you settle down; you’re not exactly in peak condition for sex,” You chuckled. “Come on turn over,” You said, and waited until he was laying on his stomach, arms relaxed.

You got on top of him and straddled his hips, taking notice of the scratches on his back. There were several silver lines across his body from his several years of military service. You had counted every scar on his body countless times so you could always know when he got new ones. But these scratches were new; red and fresh in contrast to the silver healed scars. You squirted a quarter sized amount of baby oil on your hands, rubbed them together, and pressed your hands firmly on John’s back. Using light pressure you began to knead his shoulders, mindful not to press too hard on his injured one, and firmly moved down to his lower back. “Jesus love,” John groaned. John felt himself further relax as you helped ease his aching muscles. You used your thumbs to press into his lower back and rub in small circles before continuing those small circles all the way up his back to his neck.

You loved feeling his skin underneath your hands; the way his muscles rippled when you touched him and it made you feel good that you were able to give him this attention. You heard grunts and moans as you continued to work on his back and shoulders, slowly massaging away the tension that rested in his muscles. You felt your tough military husband become putty under your hands and you couldn't help but grin. “You know I was thinking,” you said, feeling him tense as you needed a particularly large knot at the base of his neck. “What's that love?” He grunted, his voice slurring slightly as your hands slowly lulled him closer to sleep. “I know we had plans to go to that new French place for dinner but maybe we could stay in tomorrow?” You suggested to him. “Maybe just stay in bed and order takeout,” you continued, applying a little more oil onto your hands and rubbing your hands down his arms as he lazily nodded his head. “Would you like that?” You asked. When you didn’t get a response you looked down at his languid form and realized his breathing had become deeper and he started to snore a little. You smiled and slowly got off his back, careful not to wake him, and pulled the covers over him. “Good night John,” you whispered, planting a kiss on his cheek and turning off the lamp before climbing in bed next to him. You soon fell asleep and slept better than you had in months.

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!🐰”

have two dbf!john price reqs im currently working on, can’t wait to post them, in the meantime, i neeed to write more stuff about him :( send your bunny more dbf old dilf price reqs or ideas please 🍰🐰

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”

”is that what you’re wearing today, doll?”

“yes, why, you don’t like it daddy?🥺”

“your dad fine with that?”

“go ask him, sir, you’re his best friend”

“the thighs, off. in my pocket, now”

“you’re gonna keep them?”

“yeah, just like I’m gonna keep you tied to my office chair if you don’t stop teasing me. behave, sweetheart”

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.

you're soooo strawberry milk coded. imagine price never in his life ever thought strawberry was anything special until he met you. suddenly everywhere he looks he'll notice anything strawberry-themed and thinks of you. suddenly he sees strawberry as something special <3 because of all the strawberry milkshakes you love to drink, the strawberry desserts, and your strawberry perfume, he's obsessed with strawberries now

this is so self projecting because you’re so right cupcake omg, all my friends call me their strawberry bunny because im obsessed with strawberries🍓 :,)) thank you bby for sending this!!

before he met you, strawberry had always only been a fruit to him, pretty and bright, yes, but simply a mere fruit. but now, ever since meeting you and becoming your daddy (your lover), he sees strawberries everywhere, and they always remind him of you. strawberries are special now, you’ve made them special. before he met you, strawberry had always only been a fruit to him, pretty and bright, yes, but simply a mere fruit. but now, ever since meeting you and becoming your daddy (your lover), he sees strawberries everywhere, and they always remind him of you. strawberries are special now, you’ve made them special.

🍓 maybe it’s the bright red color, that reminds him of how your cheeks blush when you’re with him, shy and sweet. 🍓it’s your favorite perfume, you leave a sweet sugary scent behind you anywhere you go, smelling like strawberry cake. 🍓your favorite dessert, are always made of strawberries. strawberry shortcake, strawberry tiramisu, even those drinks you love so much, like strawberry iced tea or strawberry milkshake. he’s learned them all for when you go out on a date. 🍓you have so many strawberry themed things, shirts, earrings, keychains, your phonecase, stickers. 🍓when you kiss him, he can taste the strawberry lip gloss against his lips, staining his mustache and beard. 🍓you crave them all the time, the moment spring comes, you immediately ask him to go to the grocery store to “pretty please get me a box of strawberries, daddy?” 🍓always sipping strawberry milk when you’re reading your lovely books on the bed, on the couch, even on his lap.

he just can’t help but see them everywhere now, commercials, fabric patterns at any store, random trinkets. he knows how mi h you love strawberries, and it makes him chuckle, it’s endearing really, in the most adorable way. you could literally upturn the entire world for him, even the meaning of a simple fruit.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ random domestic scenes with old man sugar daddy!john price ⋆˚✿˖°

he snores. gosh you can’t stand it. at night, during your nighttime prayer, you hope to fall asleep before him so you won’t hear him snoring — but it rarely happens. in the middle of the night, you toss over and over on the side of the bed, until you let out a heavy sigh and practically shake his heavy, muscular and bulk body with your hand, “daddy. daddy. stop snoring, please, I can’t sleep.”

and when the sound gets too loud, you stand up silently, taking one of your plushies with you and go sleep on the couch.

if price wakes up and doesn’t find your tiny, young body next to his, he mutters something with his groggy, deep grouchy voice and comes straight to the living room, finding you curled up with a stuffie and a peaceful look on your face — but he can’t allow his pretty, little princess to sleep alone and leave her old, grumpy daddy alone in bed :( so he picks you up effortlessly with only one arm and carries you back to the bed, making sure he doesn’t wake you up so you won’t hear him snore again.

this is very silly and random but sweet!innocent soft girl and vampire!old man daddy price where she’s hemophobic and nearly always cries or feels sick at the sight or even mention of it, she can’t even go to the doctor for a simple blood test or she’ll cry. so she lets vamp daddy john price take a bite from her wrist to do a checkup — it never hurts when he does it, only feels good :( — your eyes squeezed shut, head turned the other way.

when he’s done, john licks his lips and kisses your skin to heal the bite mark that he’s left,

“tastes healthy, doll. everything’s fine, just need a bit more iron, love, should eat more meat, but you’re good.”

ideaaaa

older!price with his little bunny girl. he’s out one day and sees a bunny jelly at at the store and immediately buys it for her. ofc she HAS to show him how grateful she is after!

just i little idea!

- 🪽

oh my gosh im kicking my feet at the thought, need old!daddy price to gift me a bunny jellycat :(

the way you were beaming up at him with dollish, doe eyes, blinking with soft flutters of your eyelashes made john think you were the actual bunny plushie, and not the one he was hiding behind his back with a smug grin underneath his thick beard.

“what did you get me, daddy?” your question sounded so lovable, so sugary sweet, you hadn’t spoken with a tone laced with greedy expectation, but rather with a genuine and sincere shyness and gratitude for his thoughtfulness — that’s what made him want to spoil you even more, shower you with gifts until your sweetness rotted to the core.

“saw this at the store doll, reminded me of you” and when he stretched his arm and handed you the soft, plushy bunny stuffie, you gasped, forgetting how to exhale — you let out a happy, chirping little sound, your porcelain cheeks red and warm and your eyes sparkling like glitters.

it was so pretty, the fabric on the inside of its ears decorated with embroidered flowers, the button of his nose rosy and pointy, its legs and arms perfectly huggable — if you had been a plushie, you would’ve definitely been this one.

“oh my gosh daddy! it’s a jellycat!” you almost squeaked, taking the beautiful, pretty stuffie in your hands and admiring it — he probably had no idea how trendy those were among young girls, he must’ve simply seen a cute bunny that had reminded him of his bunny, and imagined she would like it, hence way, he'd just ended up buying it “thank you so so much sir, it’s so cute, i love it! thank you!”

he gave you a half lazy smile, enjoying seeing his little girl happy over such tiny things, and tucked a loose string of hair behind your ear, “you’re welcome, angel, im glad princess likes it”

you’d been wanting one for so long, you thought, as you pushed out your bottom lip and looked up at him with puppy dog eyes, keeping the stuffie close to your chest — you wanted to show him how grateful and thankful you were, but he never let you, claiming that was simply his duty as your daddy, as your man. you stood on your tippy toes, planting a heavy, yet soft kiss on his mouth, and another one, and another one, smiling fondly against his lips “thank you, sir, love you”

you lowered yourself, but this time, you placed your hands gently on his hard, muscular abdomen, and slowly tried to push him towards the couch, until the back of his knees hit the edge of it and he plopped down with a heavy thud, giving you a questioning look,

soon, that look was replaced by a warmer, hazy expression, as he let out a deep, low and gruff chuckle, watching you sinking down on your knees with your new precious bunny tucked underneath your forearm,

“doll, no need to repay daddy, wanted to give my baby a gift, love, to make you happy, sweetheart” he said that, but spread his thighs wider, parting his legs and throwing his arm behind the sofa’s head — he bucked his hips, and you gently rested your cheek on his clothed thigh, giving him the sweetest, most innocent look “then can i make you happy like you made me happy, daddy?”

how could he say not to his little one? with a lazy, amused tug of his mustache, he brushed his thumb over your puffy lips, sitting comfortably. “aight, love, s’yours after all, doll. do whatever you want”

then, the sound of his zipper being pulled down.

you were going to name the bunny cupcake.

What if for dads bsf, he comes on a family trip to the beach with you and your father.

You in your bikini, the sneaked glances when your dad isn't looking. MAYBE have him apply sunscreen on you!

dadsbf!old man john price in his late 40s n young, innocent sweet fem!reader who’s 21

you’ve always been a mountain lover, sunny countryside and green lavish trees filled you with the warmest joy, but just like he would any other summer, your dad has forced you to come to the beach with him, stating that ‘vitamin d is important’, but what convinced you is that you can just lay down, read your book and sip chill cold cocacola in peace, especially since your dads best friend john price is coming with you

laying happily under the cozy shadow of a colorful umbrella, heart shaped glasses and a book in your hand, your reading is cradled by the gentle hum of the wind moving through the waves, but you find it hard to focus on the lines on the paper as your eyes keep moving towards him — his muscular, buff, hairy chest is wet, burly and decorated with a few scars, his dark, graying hair and beard kissed by the sun as he shook his head, thin drops of water falling over the sand.

you take a shaky breath, feeling your cheeks grow warm and red, brighter than the sun, and quickly look away, blushing hard and feeling bad for staring so much — but gosh, he’s the most attractive man you’ve ever seen, so bulky and mature, aged in the most handsome way.

you toss over the towel, shifting position and continuing reading, already too caught up in the book to notice the looming and lurching shadow above you, that covered the sun rays — you tilt your head, and there he is, bundle of muscles, thick beard and intimidating, pure masculine energy.

“enjoying your book, love?” he asks playfully, his voice rough and low, quirking his brow as he let his eyes travel down your figure, shamelessly staring over your legs and adorable, vintage style bikin, all frills and ribbons — he sets his warm eyes back on your face, “what are you reading, Lolita?”

your cheeks are burning like flames, and you feel like you’re steaming with the hot air around you “m not, sir,”

he only laughs, a short, deep chuckle, before he tilts his head towards the water behind him “not gonna take a swim, doll?”

“dont think so, haven’t put on sunscreen yet..” you nibble on your bottom lip, head elsewhere, before you reach out to heap your bottle of coke “was waiting for someone to help me open this, can you help me sir, please?”

you give him big, doe eyes, your puffy lips parted slightly as your dolly features look up at him with such a tender, innocent look he needs to ignore how uncomfortable and suddenly tight his wet shorts feel.

“of course, doll face,” he takes it from your hands, opens it with a tiny, effortless twist of his large hand and hands it over to you, giving you a slight wink — you flame up under his gaze, and quickly bring the bottle up to your lips, mumbling a shy “thank you, sir”

the first sip is the best one, cold and frizzy bubbles running down your throat as you savor them — you let your eyes mindlessly set on him as you drink, almost choking with the coke when you notice how his own sharp ones are stuck on your lips wrapped around the bottle.

you swallow, placing the bottle down — your dad is swimming cluelessly back in the sea, near the limit of the string of buoys marking the swimming area, out of sight and of reach.

“need me to put sunscreen on you, princess, can’t have your delicate skin get burned now,” he says it almost like a command, stating it like you don’t have a voice in the matter and that makes your heart flutter — he brings his authoritative, caring and dominating attitude everywhere he goes, even when he’s not working, he’s a soldier in control of his surroundings inside and outside of the field.

“don’t wanna bother you sir, but thank you, alright..” you just blink, carefully placing your book down next to you and laying on the sandy towel, practically giving and serving yourself to him. he almost grunts at the sight, you, so young, too young, sweet and modest in your bikini, always dainty and refined.

“never bother me, sweet girl, stay still for old price, good girl” he grips — yes, grips — the sunscreen hardly and bends over one knee, applying it on both hands before starting to smear it over your skin, your arms, your legs and then your thighs. you almost gasp at the contact, his hands have always looked calloused, rough and scarred, like sandpaper, but they feel so good, warm and large against your skin.

he remains silent as he lower his hands and gently squeezed your thighs, a silent request, which you immediately followed by parting your thighs to him, still laying on your back — his hands apply the sunscreen on your inner thighs, close to where you ache the most, where you want him, but your bashfulness prevents you from addressing this need.

his thick fingers distractedly brush over your clothed clit, making you let out a soft, tiny sound, that sounded like a strangled whine and a little sigh — his eyes shoot out, completely and utterly in control, but when he spreads more cream next to your needy spot, you involuntarily buck your hips against his hand, making him clench his jaw and mutter down a restrained, growly “careful, doll, be a good girl and don’t move, said stay still”

you swallow back your embarrassment, your cheeks red and bright, whole face on fire as he shifts his hands on your tummy, caressing it and smearing more white cream on your flat chest, between your tiny, small boobs that are raising and falling with every hard breath.

“feel good, doll?”

you nodded, unable to say anything, but you wanted him to kiss you, to just take you however he pleased “yessir”

“good, on your tummy f’me now, come on” he pats your leg, and you quickly turn around, closing your eyes when you feel his large hands on your back, applying your cream — you arch your back against his fingers, earning a deep, amused chuckle from him.

“look at you, love, stretching yourself like a bunny, huh?”

you nod again, but this time, your eyes shoot open when you feel his thick mustache and beard pressed against the skin of your shoulder, pressing a light, small and tickling kiss — he lowers his hand and playfully pats your bottom, caressing it before drifting back. “done, love, all nice and safe.”

you’re left like this, blushing and wide eyed, watching him take a sip from your bottle of coke, and you can’t help but let your romantic mind think this is an indirect kiss.

young, innocent and soft bunny reader crying on sugar daddy!old man john price’s lap because she doesn’t want to learn how to pay taxes and run grown ups’ errands and john just wiping away her tears with his rough fingers but with a dumbfounded look because “doll, you never had to and never will???” you can just be his little princess, his lap bunny, and let your big, strong old man handle all the adult stuff ;,(

fancy some old man company ceo!john price x young innocent little girl!personal assistant reader? (he’s in his late 40s and shes 21)

usually, ceos weren’t the ones in charge of hiring new employees, they left the boring job to their assistants or managers — but this morning, upon coming to his office, john price was met with the sight of a young, disoriented little girl, dolled up in heels and standing cluelessly like a lost little bunny in the main hall, curriculum file in hand, probably not having a clue where to go —

being the gentleman he was, as the boss, price welcomed you inside his office, telling you not to worry about the manager you were supposed to meet up with for the application, whom you had originally planned the appointment with…

“the file says you’re twenty one and fresh out of college,” his eyes briefly emerged from the paper he was holding with his thick, ringed fingers, slowly focusing on every inch of your sitting stance, taking you in with no hesitation nor costume mannerism, shamelessly staring, in a way that made you swallow nervously and nod politely, your hands neatly folded on your lap, right where the hem of your skirt hinted to your bare thighs.

”y-yes, sir, i-im actually looking for a job as a librarian, but i’ve been in need of financial assistance since graduating, so in the meantime i could really use a part time position.” you could feel every nervous beat of your heart vibrating through your chest as you spose, your cheeks like burning flames, bright and red as you barely manage to stay still on your seat, trembling like a shy bunny — how could you find yourself working for him if you can’t even meet his gaze? “this one would be my first job..”

price just hummed, leaning back on his chair that crackled under his massive body, wrapped in a expensive tailored suit, bulk and buff muscles giving him an intimidating appearance — his thighs spread wide, legs parted.

you were a young, shy, pretty thing, sweet and polite, in the prime of her blooming youth and just eager to find her place into this world, to prove herself and make someone proud, earn their (his) praise. he had lot and lot of experience behind his back, even more years, and he was sure you would be the best, obedient good girl just by looking at you.

john price could be that someone, he was old enough to be your father, burly and exuded power and security, exactly what you needed — he could use a sweet, young personal secretary like you, all doe eyes and in need of praise and approval, make his exhausting job as the boss less stressful, you would get him lunch or coffee, print paperwork sheets for him, bring him new cigars, and even be his lap bunny, his trophy little girl, warming him up.

“you’re hired,” the words he muttered were so rough, gruff and low you had to blink twice, before opening your mouth and closing it right after.

“im sorry? oh- but— uhm, are you sure?” you felt a little dumbstruck by the rapidity of the interview, but you were thankful nonetheless, “i thought I’d have to answer more questions..”

“we have a lot of work to do here and never enough employees, sweetheart, im sure your help will be..” he let his eyes trail down on your figure again, slower this time, his large hand coming to scratch his thick, dark and graying beard as he studied you “well appreciated and rewarded, little one”

🍓| laaarge age gap, price is in his late 40s and fem virgin!reader is 21, kissing!

dads best friend john price! having you sitting on his lap while your father’s away, facing him, your legs around his sides as you look at him with the sweetest and shyest expression and red, blushing cheeks after you’ve asked him to ‘teach me how to kiss, please sir?’

john has been trying to remain resilient, to resist your pleads and clear feelings towards him, because you’re so, too young for him, he doesn’t deserve such a sweet, pretty girl, he’s an old, worn out and mean bastard — but, how could he deny those doe, sweet eyes of yours? so tender and kind, it almost kills him how badly he wants to steal you from your father and just have his way with you.

he’s a man of outmost control, after so many years of experience behind his back, the military has taught him to keep his composure and master patience and control — he’s trying to be a responsible adult, although he yearns to have his way with you in the harshest way possible.

so he just sighs, saying “just one kiss, doll”, and lifts his hand to hold your chin with his rough fingers, gripping your chin firmly and tilting your face upwards to push your glossed lips out “open.”

you do as he said, parting your lips slightly —when he bends his head to press his mouth on yours, you hold your breath, not knowing how to react. the kiss is slow at first, but it’s clear that he’s holding back, just moving his lips steadily and gently against yours, his thick beard scratching your warm cheeks. it tastes so good, the warm hint of smoke and a minty liquor. 

but then your hands grip his flannel tight, and he hears a little whimper from you that makes him groan lowly, the fabric of his jeans tightening around his growing bulge. you press yourself closer, wanting to feel more of him — and suddenly the kiss becomes rough, hungry, animalistic, his lips move fast and eagerly against your mouth, licking and kissing with an intensity that makes you hold onto him, your chests pressed together. his tongue pushes forcefully into your mouth, licking and pressing against your own as little whines bubble from your throat. 

john knew you didn’t need to learn how to kiss because you’d never kiss anyone that wasn’t him, and he’d only ever let you kiss him, “if a guy ever tries to do this to you, sweetheart,” he grumbles against your lips, tilting his head to gain more access, pecking your bottom lip and biting it with his own teeth, “you slap him and come to daddy, aight dollface?”

you nod against him, breathless and already panting, poor girl, this is your first kiss and you’re a blushing mess ;( he pulls back slightly and pinches your chin, sprawling his fingers over your jaw “open up for daddy, come on, stick out your tongue f’me, good girl, that’s it, sugar”

and he dives right back in, a feverish kiss full of biting, tongue and teeth, but just as you throw your arms around his neck and mumble a soft ‘’more…” and shift impossibly closer to his lap, he grunts against your lips, letting out a warning sound — he slows his pace down, kissing you slowly now “said just a kiss, angel,”

you whine, pressing an open mouthed kiss on his mustache, your glossy eyes full of need, “please sir, wan’ you daddy, pretty please…” gosh, if only you knew how much he wanted you. 

you’re making it so hard for him, he can’t corrupt your innocence. you recognize the look of restraint behind his eyes, and he just squeezes your hip with his free hand, holding your face close to his until your warm breaths mingle together “im too old for you, sweetheart, you shouldn’t want a old, broken man like me, you’re too young and sweet f’me, love” 

“please sir, i just wan you..” you whine timidly again, feeling the unfamiliar sensation of something hard pressing against your inner thighs, right above your clothed girlbud — your cheeks flame up, red and bright, blushing like the most beautiful flower and ripest fruit, and you pout like a puppy. 

“doll, don’t think for a second i dont want you, princess, but you deserve better, and if your father found out…” he mutters a short, fake chuckle, letting his hands roam freely all over your waist and lower back, the only think he allows himself to indulge into. he knows how much he wants to throw you over his shoulder and take you home with him. 

“you’re still mine anyway, little one, regardless of what we do or don’t do, be sure that you’re mine”

maybe he could only give you a little glimpse, only let you get off on his clothed thigh? teach you how to do it with him and him only?

how long will it take for him to finally give in and give you what you both want?

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 :)

old man daddy john price coming back home from a tiring, exhausting mission and finding his sweet little bunny dolly girl like this

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

husband!john and bunny!reader in the kitchen making dinner together n reader forgets an ingredient needed for dessert but he says it’s ok bc he can always have reader for dessert or something ahhhh૮꒰ྀི >⸝⸝⸝<꒱ྀིა !!

god bless u n have a good day <3

GOD BLESS YOU TOO BBY thank u this is so sugar daddy!price after they finally get married, this kind of reqs is my favorite one sniff ໒꒰ྀི⸝⸝> ̫<⸝⸝꒱ྀི১!!

strawberry tiramisu was the original plan, you’d bought everything you needed, or so you thought, it was your favorite dessert, light, pretty, sweet and absolutely pink, and what made making it even more special was john standing next to you, his broad shoulders and muscular figure almost too tall to fit under the kitchen hood. The sleeves of his buttoned up shirt were rolled up, revealing his thick, hairy and muscular arms flexing with every movement, bulging as he was cutting some greens (he’d never let his pretty soft girl hold a knife)

you hummed lightly as you gathered all the ingredients on the counter, throwing the tiniest strawberry of the package into your mouth, savoring the sugary taste, but as you put down a plate full of ladyfingers, you realized you’d forgotten an important ingredient — your chewing stopped, and your eyes softened, disappointedly “oh, noo come ooon…” “what’s wrong, doll?”

“I’ve forgotten about the mascarpone, we only have whipped cream at home, can’t make the tiramisu without that..” you mumbled, swallowing down the rest of that strawberry mouthful.

john, ever the calm presence, glanced over from where he was chopping vegetables. He let out a low, deep chuckle, amused by your cuteness upon seeing your soft, upset frown. He placed the knife carefully down, making sure it laid away from you, and wiped his hands on the dishtowel.

he placed his hands on both sides of your waist, picking you up with a swift push. Sitting you on top of the counter, he slipped between your legs and looked down at you with a look of both tenderness and hunger, teasingly. “‘s fine, princess, guess i’ll have you for dessert, mmh? the sweetest thing I can have,”

you blushed at his rough, husky tone, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks — his hands gently caressed the curves of your hips, but you pouted, the taste of strawberry still lingering on your lips and making you long for that forgotten key ingredient, “im serious, daddy, I wanted to make you strawberry tiramisu,”

“and I’m even more serious, bunny,” he leaned over, his voice lowering even more, and his arms stretched on both sides of your waist, gripping the edge of the counter you sat on, “have my sugary treat right here, don’t I, doll? ‘s just hard to wait after dinner, knowing how good you taste, angel”

sugar daddy!old man john price who suggests to use his little girl for an undercover mission — he’d never let anyone hurt, touch, or even lay their eyes on his pretty girl, you just need to wear a pretty short dress, sit on his lap and play along, doesn’t matter if you have no idea what’s going on, just trust him and look cute

the target wouldn’t suspect that he’s the captain of the military task force sent to get him, because he’s just smoking his cigar, wearing an expensive suit with a young, too young sweet girl on his lap, a faux expression of concentration towards the dices — so he just keeps playing that poker game with him, not having a clue that when the time is right, price will send his bunny girl back to the car, safe and sound, and take his weapon out of his pocket.

“just wait for daddy in the car, aight doll?”

“are you gonna be alright sir? :(“

oh, he’s been through such worse missions, but it’s cute seeing his bunny worry for him, after helping him distract the target :) poor bunny you have no clue what you’ve even been helpful with

“sweetheart, I’ve got scars and tattoos older than you, daddy’ll be fine, angel”

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?”