John Price X Y/n - Blog Posts

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“that i…i’m in love with you..?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“thank you big brother :)”

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

“jhonny!!”

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

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

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

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

but you’ll get that dog someday.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“but I have another one next month :(“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“so you’re dumb and useless?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“good girl, pup. Say it f’me.”

“I won’t..”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

your parents are here.

at the bar, in the city.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you could start with your number, sweet cheeks”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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