Dilf Old Man!vampire John Price Who Doesn’t Want To Leave His Sweet, Little Girl Home Alone At Night,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“oh you are indeed”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This figure of Levi is too much for my heart and my empty pocket.

bunny here is tempted to write the typical super basic “daddy can you pass me that” table scene with dbf!john price where you’re sitting with your father and his best friend but john hands you whatever you’ve asked for instead mpfhh ⠀ ∩ ∩⠀ ꒰ 𓏼 ◞ ˔ ◟ 𓏼 ꒱

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”

I pray you’re overwhelmed by the perfect love and abundant grace of Christ Jesus as you call upon His name, surrender all pride, doubts or fears and depend on Him.💗

God bless you, pookie.

could you like..pretty please, send dadsbf! old man daddy john price requests..? pretty please?🐇 wanna write for him sb sniff ALSO to all my beautiful sweet berries who’ve sent me reqs in the past i do read them and they’re all saved in the drafts, as a college girlie i don’t have quite a lot of free time to post them so please be patient ily!

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.”

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!

⋆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.