Hi My Lovee, Reader Receiving Flowers And Assuming They’re From Price? He Gets Home And Is LIVID

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…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.”

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”

grumpy old man 🤝 always happy, easily excited young girl who's still full of childlike wonder he has a soft spot for

OK IK I PROMISED NO MORE SPAM BUT OMG UR A CHRISTIAN TOO?? TWIN OMG WAITTTT

-🪽

YAYYY LOVELY !! HOLY GIRLS HERE DAUGHTERS OF THE MOST HIGH LORD OF LORDS KING OF KINGS JESUS !! the way the truth and the life fr🐇✨

guys call me a whore but logan in logan has me on my KNEES!!!!!!! the greying hair? the scruffy beard? the suits? the grumpiness? oh my god somebody SEDATE ME i need him in ways that are concerning to feminism i need him in me now!

God listening to mens prayers: thank you son for talking to me, don’t worry, I’ll help you with this situation <3

God listening to womens prayers: oh my me my sweet, beautiful daughter love of my heart of course whatever you want, absolutely I will, let me write it down so I can answer as quick as possible, what else do you want my princess? here just have faith see? poof done !!! <33 most beautiful thing I’ve ever created, your dad loves you !!

Captain John Price 🤎

Levi looks so young the last time we see him. Rounded cheeks, his usual exhausted expression gone. Instead his eyes are wide, his expression almost one of childlike excitement, matching those of the kids scattered around his chair. His wings have faded and with them the weight of the world is finally off his shoulders. He finally gets to live life on his own terms.

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

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

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

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

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

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

could you believe that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

guess you are both parents, now :)