Request: @chubbypatatina -I wanna ask for a little story with FP Jones? In my mind, it's about some rich and nice girl, the good innocent type, boring and tired of her life, but she meets FP, who gives her freedom, chaos and a lot of sex. Daddy kink, with a little fluff. Can you please? <3
Pairing: FP Jones x Reader
Sitting in this up-and-coming coffee shop, sipping your second iced Americano for the day, you stare at the young high school freshmen teenagers huddling over a phone and squealing about some boy's six-pack. It was hard to imagine that kind of excitement, now that you had graduated high school and moved onto University.
You were never one for large groups of friends, or a wild night out. You'd much rather prefer to stay at home, reading, writing, or binge watching a new series on Netflix.
Looking at these overly-enthusiastic teenagers in the line ahead of you, you thought back on your life before University. You had done everything to be seen as the 'perfect daughter' and the even more 'perfect young lady'. You maintained a perfect attendance, aced every test and project, hardly ever disagreed with your parents, had minimal friends, graduated top of your year and made it into a notable University.
All was well in your life, so why weren't you...happy?
You were struck out of your thoughts by the revving of a motorcycle in the coffee shop's parking lot. Glancing outside, you saw the back of leather jacket and cringed internally upon seeing the serpent symbol. You swore you were far enough from the Southside to not be in the same presence as a Serpent.
The baristas didn't hide their worry, most of them audibly sighing. Soon enough, a trio of Serpent members entered the coffee shop and you could sense the environment shift; everyone was on edge.
Rather than deal with this drama, you gathered your tote bag and grabbed your drink in your left hand. Heading for the door, the Serpent at the back bumped into you, by accident, sending your drink straight to the floor.
Rather than get scared, you sighed, more frustrated than anything. You bent to collect the cup, but a staff member hurried over with a mop and a bucket.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," the Serpent said, standing to face you.
You raised your head to meet his gaze and almost took a step back when you saw the deep hazelnut colour of his eyes.
"How about I buy you a new one?" he offered.
"N-No, thank you. I'll just get going."
He kept your gaze and you became enchanted; searching deeper into his eyes. When he broke eye contact, you took the chance to take him all in. The leather jacket actually complimented his frame and the few silver hairs that formed at his temples made him appear more mature and intellectual than the other two Serpents in front of him.
You followed him to the edge of the barista station where he stood next to you for your drinks. You didn't think being so close to someone would have this kind of effect on you. Maybe it was because he was a Serpent, but his very essence made your heart beat increase and the palms of your hands dampen.
"Do you come to this shop often?" he asked, turning to face you.
"Yes, it's the closest to my school."
He stared at you before chuckling and saying, "Shit, you look young enough to be my daughter."
You scoffed and replied, "Whatever you say, daddy."
That smacked the smug look off his face. You also widened your eyes, realizing what you had just said.
Looking at him, you stuttered, "S-s-sorry. I d-didn't mean for that to sound..."
He raised his hand up to stop you. "No, that actually sounded pretty good."
You snickered nervously, desperate to feel less embarrassed.
As if sensing your need to be saved, the barista arrived with your orders and you eagerly took the cup.
"Thank you again for this," you force out.
He chuckled and said, "Anytime, sweetheart. Maybe the next time I see you, I'll buy you something more than just a coffee."
You could feel the blush rush to your cheek. "Are you trying to be like a real daddy?"
"If that's what you want." He took a few a steps to close the distance between the two of you.
He was close enough that you could smell his after-shave. "Just let me know when," you say, managing to stand your ground. You were positive he could hear your heart practically bursting from your chest.
"Ever been to the Southside?"
"I've spent my entire life trying to avoid it, actually."
The side of his mouth twitched, playing along with your humor. "Do you live near there?"
"Close enough, I suppose."
"How about you meet my by the Whyte Worm tonight?"
"I have classes till 8," you tease.
"Then meet for whatever time; I'll be there."
His two associates strutted by to wait for him by the entrance. "Looks like that's your cue."
The second he was out the door, you needed to re-adjust. Did you really just flirt with a Serpent? Did all of that just happen? More importantly, were you seriously considering meeting this man after class, on the Southside, in a bar, to do who-knows-what?! Decisions, decisions.
"Class dismissed," your professor announced. Everyone sighed as the class finished a little past 8 o'clock.
You slung your bag over your shoulder and made the familiar trek back to your car. Once you got settled, you started the ignition and the car roared to life. The sound reminded you of the motorcycle from the coffee shop. You checked your mirrors and recalled the interaction from earlier.
Shifting the car into reverse, you knew where you needed to be; the Whyte Worm.
The parking lot was mostly empty, save for a couple of bikes by the entrance. Stepping out of your car, you adjusted your black shorts and tee, trying to look presentable. Then again, this was a bar, so what even was presentable?
The door creaked open when you pushed it, and your footsteps echoed off the walls.
"Hello?" you called out. The overhead lights were on, as were the drink coolers. However, there was no bartender or patron.
Unsure of what to do, you moved towards the pool table and fixed the balls for a fresh game.
"Didn't peg you for a pool player," a deep voice sounded from the back of the bar.
You recognized it immediately, and your heart leaped in response. "It's my first time even seeing a pool table up close and in person."
"S-sure," you replied, not feeling that confident.
Gingerly, he gathered the balls and raised the triangle. He took two sticks, passing one to you, and began to play. His first shot just shuffled the balls around.
You leaned over the table, trying to mimic his pose.
"No, here. Let me show you." He made his way over to you and held your hand in his. "Just imagine a ricochet. It's more about practice than anything."
He released your hand and you took your shot. Luckily, you made one ball into the socket.
"A natural," he muttered.
You turned to meet him and found him close, too close. The lapels of his plaid shirt touched your hands and you fought the urge to grab it and pull him close.
Sensing your energy, he tossed the stick onto the table and held your cheek in his hand. You gently leaned into his touch. Slowly, his thumb met your lips, and you parted them, giving him entrance.
With a deep, guttural groan, he pulled you to him and laid his lips on yours. At first, you were overpowered, but once you caught on to the rhythm of his lips, you quickly adjusted. Your hands latched onto his neck, pulling him in towards you. His hands clasped your waist and lifted you, placing you to sit on the edge of the pool table.
Through everything, you couldn't help but think that this was the most insane, spontaneous thing you'd ever done. And you liked it.
You parted your legs, letting him settle in between them. He snaked his hands from your knees to your inner thighs. You could sense the waves of ecstasy roll through you and you wanted every last drop. You glided you hands from his neck, down his chest, finally resting on his belt buckle. Slowly, you passed your thumb over the rough denim of his zipper. He jumped, but only slightly. With another moan from him, you cupped his hardened area and kneaded your palm along it.
His breathing got heavier and the kiss broke. He rested his head on your shoulder and moved your hand away from his boner.
Looking up at you, he said exasperatedly, "Fuck, I didn't think you'd be so rough."
Keeping up with the teasing tone, you replied, "oh, am I being a bad girl?"
He chuckled and said, "what does that make me, then?"
You slip your fingers into the belt holders and give him one rough pull towards you, earning another moan. "That makes you this bad girl's daddy, who needs to make sure she's properly punished."
"Then we better get started." In one swift motion, he lifted you off the table and took you to the back, where there's a bed waiting and an empty floor that's begging for your clothes.
Almost every week since that fated night, you met with him. The locations were different, the criteria was different, but every meeting had the same result. At first, it was all about sex. Blissful, experimental, kinky sex. But over time, the two of you got to enjoy each other's company. He wasn't just some random Serpent from the Southside. He became your main influence to let loose and live your life out of the dreary normalcy of school and home.
Most times, if you didn't have classes or exams, you'd find yourself in his trailer, in his room, wearing one of his shirts, listening to 80′s music and falling asleep to him passing his hand through your hair. The sex was always great, but feeling his strong arm around you, made you feel safe and empowered. He was your inspiration for stepping out of your comfort zone and saying 'why not?'.
As long as you had him, there was no telling what you could do. For the first time in your life, you felt like you were the one pulling the strings and the one thing you wanted to keep? Him.
2087
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