or Jack starts calling you kid so much that you get confused and call him dad during sex

» mdni, nsfw, afab!reader, unprotected piv, kinda implied age gap but not explicitly mentioned

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Jack Abbot starts making a habit out of calling you kid. which is not an issue, in the slightest. At first, it’s innocent, starting with small random praises.

Like that one day he’s in the garage, busy changing a tire. 

Sitting on the door steps, chin resting on your knuckles, you watch the way his muscles flex in a shirt that’s definitely a size too small. 

His torso’s bent, half kneeling on the ground, when Jack stretches out an arm: “pass me the wrench, please honey?”

looking down at the tools without a clue in the world, you pass him something you assume could be it. Absent-mindedly, your boyfriend takes it and simply says: “thank you, kid”.

It takes you by surprise, he’s never called you that before. But it sounds familiar, and his voice drops an octave as he speaks, which shamelessly leads to you clenching your thighs together. 

you’re not sure whether it’s the endearment itself or how he says it; you’re not even sure he notices the effect it had on you. However, from then on, it becomes more frequent.

So it’s really predictable that in a moment of weakness, you’d get confused. After all, it’s exactly what your dad used to call you.

your knees are planted into the soft mattress and your chest’s pressed against it. Jack is pounding into you from behind; big hands grabbing your waist so harshly there’ll certainly be bruises on those spots tomorrow. 

Saliva pools at the sides of your half open mouth, small puddle gathering onto the already ruined sheets. The only sounds coming out of it are heavy pants and high pitched whines. Your fists grab the comforter like it personally offended you, trying to hold onto something while your body’s being moved by the force of Jack’s merciless thrusts.

“Look at you, being s’good f’me, kid”

you’re never this plaint, you usually bicker, fight him for control. so Jack is impressed, truly, he rarely ever gets to see you letting yourself behind manhandled like this. 

should he be, though? he’s fucked the thoughts out of you about three orgasms ago. your brain’s utter mush. you can’t focus on anything except his overbearing presence lingering over you: his fingers digging dents in the meat of your hips, the smell of sweat and his wooden scented cologne.

you’re impossibly wet too, the gushing noise made by your swollen pussy fills the room along with your muffled moans and Jack’s grunts. 

The next thing your brain registers is his flexed, freckled arm wrapping around your throat. out of the blue, you’re being lifted to sit upright, strong bicep obstructing your airflow.

gasping for air, you choke out: “jesus- dad, please….”

Your words go unheard by your own ringing ears. even with closed eyes, you can see the room spin. 

Jack’s thick cock pulses inside you, and that’s the last thing you feel before your boyfriend stops his movements altogether.

“what did you just call me, sweetheart?“ his voice’s ragged. fairly surprised as well. 

your brows furrow, “Jack?” 

you struggle at keeping your eyes open. even after cumming so many times, you’re still desperate enough for your walls to clench hard around his dick. still throbbing inside you, instead of resuming Jack pulls almost all the way out, leaving only the tip in. 

“wrong answer kid”

it hits you then, hearing the nickname— could you have…? oh no. 

for a long second, you remain just as unmoving, wholly mortified. but knowing your boyfriend, he’d never let it slide, so you muster up what’s left of your dignity and whisper: “dad?” 

“that a question, baby?”

when your gaze finally manages to focus on the mess you’ve made on the bed, you turn your head to him cautiously. your hooded eyes meet Jack’s lustful ones. a realisation breaks shivers down your spine: he’s not mocking you, he wants to hear you say it again. 

so this time around, you speak up more confidently, a smirk forming on your lips: “dad, please…” and that’s all it takes for your boyfriend to slam back into you. 

one of his hands comes up to close around your breast, rough fingers playing with a stiff nipple while the other brushes down your stomach.

“good girl” it’s nothing but a low groan in your ear. Jack’s teeth sink into the flesh of your shoulder, licking his saliva off the bite shortly after. 

you struggle to keep your whimpers in as the pad of his middle finger circles your sensitive clit “been doing so good. why don’t you cum for dad, yeah pretty girl?”

Jack’s not far behind. his balls ache to be emptied; needing you to cream his cock good before he can let go and fill up to the brim. his thrusts quickly turn shabby, but no less powerful. 

Survivre, 2024