pickle

bfs dad! jack abbot x reader

MDNI !!

summary: what happens when you go to your ex-boyfriends house to pick up your belongings and happen to run into his dad?

wc: 2.4k

tags/warnings: smut, unprotected sex, age-gap, no use of y/n

three knocks. you toy with the hem of your pants, anxiously waiting for your boyfriend, now ex, to answer the door. you had been together for a year when he suddenly broke up with you last week. you had noticed that he began acting distant, but you thought it would pass.

he couldn’t even give you the courtesy of telling you why he was breaking up with you, so you sat awake every night wondering if you did something wrong, or if he’s just an asshole. the obvious answer is that he’s an asshole, but for some reason that wasn’t enough. 

the past week has left you confused, hurt, and angry, and just when you thought you were getting over it, you remembered that you left your favorite hoodie at his house. you did not want to face him again, but it was an expensive sweatshirt, and you certainly did not want to let him have it, or even worse, give it to his next girlfriend.

now, with it being one week since the breakup, you’ve mustered up enough courage to go to his house and ask demand him to give you your sweatshirt back. you also decided to put no effort into your appearance, since you aren’t trying to impress anyone anymore, wearing a cami and sweatpants that are definitely not your size. you bite the inside of your cheek as you wait for the door to be opened, but it’s taking longer than it normally would. do you knock again? do you just leave? do you send him a tex-

the door opens.

it’s not your ex boyfriend, but rather, his dad. does he even know about the breakup yet? you feel a little awkward standing in front of him, looking like you just rolled out of bed, but he greets you with the same warm smile he’s been greeting you with since you and your boyfriend started dating.

“hi!” he sounds so enthusiastic.

“hi, dr. abbot,” you say, quietly. he’s being suspiciously normal right now. he must not know yet. of course your boyfriend wouldn’t tell him.

he steps aside, gesturing for you to enter the house.

his eyebrows furrow, “how many times have i told you to just call me jack?”

you walk into his house, forcing a smile, “habit. sorry.” you scratch your head, trying to act casual, “i’m really sorry to bother, i just left something here.”

“you’re never a bother. feel free to grab whatever you need, he’s not home.” his voice is reassuring.

you nod before you turn around and begin to head up the stairs, where your ex boyfriends’ room is.

“hey,” jack calls out. halfway up the stairs, you turn around, “i’m sorry about what happened.”

you take a deep breath, “i am too.” you turn around and continue going up the stairs.

the bedroom is messy, as always, and you begin rummaging through his clothes, old food, and random papers left all over his room until you finally find your hoodie. it’s definitely going to need a quick wash, but at least you got it back, and surprisingly, with no problem.

you quickly walk downstairs, and just as you’re about to say bye to jack, he stops you. 

“do you wanna talk about it?” he asks.

you open your mouth to answer the question, but for some reason can’t think of a response. jack notices your discomfort.

“look, i just made a smoothie, and i accidentally made too much, do you want the rest?” he changes the subject.

“i don’t know y’know i was just about to hea-”

“it’s just gonna go to waste.”

you sigh, “okay, yeah, i’ll have it.”

“awesome, follow me.”

 he walks to the kitchen and you follow closely behind. there are two glasses on the counter, both with the same amount of drink in them. it’s like he knew you were going to say yes. standing across from him, you take one of the glasses and take a sip. it’s actually really fucking good.

“it’s good isn’t it?” jack asks, drinking nearly the entire thing in one go.

“mmm,” you attempt a response while drinking more.

“so, what’s been going on with you?” he asks in an attempt to keep the conversation going.

suddenly, you put the drink back down on the counter and look up at him.

“did he tell you why?”

“what?”

“did he tell you why he broke up with me?”

he puts his glass down and shakes his head slowly, “he didn’t. i’m sorry.”

your mouth quivers, “i just- i don’t know. i feel like i did something wrong. i don’t know.”

“what? don’t say that,” he says in disbelief, walking over to you and putting his hand on your shoulder.

the sudden contact makes you even more anxious than you already are, “what happened, then?”

“come on,” he tilts his head at you as though the answer is obvious, “he is my son, but he can be a piece of shit sometimes. you and i both know that.”

you let your head fall forward in defeat. jack suddenly grabs your chin and lifts your head up enough to make eye contact with you.

“you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“are you sure?” you ask, a single tear running down your face.

with the hand that gently grips your chin, he wipes the tear away.

“i’m sure,” he finally releases his hand from your chin and backs up, leaning on the counter, “if i’m being honest, you were too good for him anyways.”

a genuine laugh escapes you, “really?” you sniffle.

“oh please,” he scoffs, “and don’t get me wrong, i’m gonna miss having you around all the time, but, you’re a med student, and he’s been working the same part time job he’s had since high school with no future plans. obviously you’re too good for him.”

you smile, “yeah. i guess.” your smile disappears, “i also guess this means no more study sessions.”

“of course not. don’t let this get in the way of your studies, and that includes me helping you prepare for your clinicals.”

“you would do that still?”

“there’s usually no such thing as stupid questions, but that right there was one. i want you to succeed, whether you’re dating my son or not.”

“thank you, dr. abbot, seriously.” the tears have officially stopped flowing.

“anytime,” he says, “in fact, got anything coming up that you need help with?”

“i have an anatomy exam soon, but i can just study on my own, i’ve taken up enough of your time today,” you say, quietly.

“nonsense. sit down,” he says, patting on one of the counter stools. he sits down on the one next to it.

without hesitation you sit down beside him.

“anatomy, huh?”

you nod, “yeah, just have to know where everything is pretty much, major structures, vessels, nerves, muscles, et cetera.”

“sounds easy enough,” he says.

“well, i am a first year.”

“i remember my first year like it was yesterday.” he smiles to himself, like he’s reminiscing, “glabella.”

you’re caught off guard, but manage to point to the spot in between your eyebrows.

he nods, “good. uvula.”

“easy. back of the throat.”

“philtrum.”

“beneath the nose.”

“i need to make this harder for you,” he says, sounding impressed, “how about the hypogastrium?”

“shit,” you think for a moment, “abdomen?”

“where?”

you place your hand on top of where your belly button would be. jack gently grabs your hand and lowers it until it’s just above your pubic bone.

“there,” he corrects you.

your breath hitches at his touch, and jack notices.

he clears his throat and removes his hand from yours, all while not breaking eye contact with you.

“moving on. where is the-”

suddenly, before you’re able to even stop yourself, you lean in and kiss him. only for a moment, though, before your brain catches up and realizes what you’re doing. you pull away and your cheeks already begin to turn pink.

“i don’t know why i- i’m sorry-” you stammer, “fuck, i should-”

you stand up from the seat and begin backing up in horror before a wide-eyed jack abbot gets up, grabs your arm, and pulls you in for another kiss, this time longer, and harder.

you kiss him back, of course, and your hands find themselves in his salt and pepper hair while his hands cup your face that grows hotter by the second.

he finally pulls away, leaving the two of you out of breath.

“jack…” you whine, sounding more desperate than you had intended.

“i know kiddo, i know,” he says, his voice sounding rough as ever.

with his hands now on your hip, he kisses you again, backing you up until your back hits the fridge, knocking off multiple magnets onto the floor. he bites your lower lip and a quiet moan escapes you, but it’s loud enough for jack to hear and make the blood rush straight to his cock.

he begins moving lower, kissing you on your jaw and neck, eliciting more unintelligible sounds from you. he catches himself getting carried away so he pulls back and looks at you.

“a mess already. beautiful,” he whispers before clearing his throat, “do you want this?”

you nod eagerly, still breathing heavily.

“i need to hear you say it.”

“i want this, i- i want you,” you manage to choke out.

a grin spreads across his face before he suddenly picks you up. you gasp and your legs instinctively wrap around his waist. he quickly runs up the stairs, carrying you like it’s nothing before he reaches his bedroom.

you’ve never seen his bedroom before, but it’s exactly how you would’ve imagined it. minimalist, and incredibly clean. he places you on the bed before swiftly taking his t-shirt off, revealing a body you’d never seen before. big, muscular, and riddled with freckles. you’re on your knees at the edge of the bed, watching him undress. 

he walks right up to you and grabs both of your arms, placing them above your head. he then grabs the bottom of your top and pulls it over your head, leaving you topless.

“how could he ever let you go?” he asks himself, shaking his head.

you quickly remove your sweatpants, and back up until you’re in the middle of the bed. he begins removing his own sweatpants, which already have a wet spot thanks to the precum leaking out of him. once his pants are off, he quickly removes his boxers to reveal his hard and glistening length.

you gulp, taken aback by the size of him. he then removes his prosthetic leg and finally joins you in his bed. he hovers over you and is giving you sloppy wet kisses on your mouth, before trailing down to your neck and then your breasts. you can barely think with his biceps on either side of your head.

his hot mouth contrasting to the cool air of his room makes you tense up, and the feeling of his tongue going down your body makes you want to scream. he notices your muscles tightening.

“don’t be shy,” he says to you, “it’s okay, it’s just me.”

his mouth finally makes its way to your underwear, which is already damp. he wastes no time pulling it off and pushing your legs apart. 

you can feel his breath hitting the heat between your legs, itching for him to do anything.

“please, jack.”

your words are music to his ears, and he immediately licks a stripe up your slit, causing you to cry out.

your body twitches underneath him, which makes him hold onto your thighs even tighter than he was before. you can tell he’s going to leave marks, but you’re too gone to care about that right now.

he groans into you as fucks you with his mouth, and the vibrations add to the euphoric feeling building in your lower abdomen. you’re close to your orgasm, and he can tell, which is why he pulls away, leaving the lower half of his face covered in your arousal.

you gasp, “wait, please…”

“patience,” he whispers into your ear before giving you a kiss and propping himself up onto his knees. he grabs your hips and lines himself up with your entrance.

he slowly buries himself inside you, giving you a moment to adjust to his size. the burn of him stretching you out is nothing compared to the immense pleasure felt in this moment.

“oh my fucking god,” you moan, letting your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“look at me,” he says, waiting for you to lift your head up.

once you’re looking at him, he smiles, “remember what we studied?”

he takes your hand and places it on your stomach, “do you feel that?” he pushes your hand down just enough for you to feel him inside of you.

you nod, slowly.

“you’re being so good for me.”

he slowly pulls out before thrusting again, this time a little bit harder. he does this a few more times until he finds a good rhythm. 

both of you blubber various profanities, unable to focus on what you’re saying. you begin to feel the heat building in your stomach once again, and you’re determined to finish this time. you roll your hips, matching his rhythm, trying to feel him more than you already are.

“keep. going. please,” you manage to say out loud.

“has he ever fucked you like this?” he asks, sounding almost cocky.

“no. never,” you admit.

he looks pleased with himself after you answer shyly.

he continues fucking you, his thrusts fast and deep, until you finally reach your peak. suddenly, you tighten around him, your whole body jerking as you cry out. he keeps his fast pace, to not deny himself of an orgasm, when shortly after you, his climax hits him like a truck. he lets himself go, moaning and groaning as thick ropes of cum shoot out of him and straight into you.

once the both of you have finished, he slowly pulls out. you whine at his absence. hovering over you once again, he pushes the hair out of your now flushed and sweaty face.

“let me clean you up, okay?”

“okay,” you say, quietly, “in a minute, though.”

pope cody x girlfriend! reader

MDNI !!

summary: pope is late coming home from a job, even after promising you that he'd be home on time

wc: 2.7k

tags/warnings: smut, unprotected sex, masturbation, orgasm denial, no use of y/n

pope was never late. after you and him got together, he made a promise to you and to himself that he would never be late, and if he was going to be late, he would reach out to you first. today, however, he broke that promise. 

it was around ten at night, and you hadn’t heard from him at all. he left for the job this morning, and it was an easy one, with a large margin for error. him, his brothers, and his nephew were stealing from some big wig technology ceo, and it was supposed to be quick. pope told you he wouldn’t be home any later than seven, and it now being three hours after that, you weren’t scared, or worried that he had gotten hurt (pope knew how to take care of himself), you were pissed.

he had been so busy recently with planning this job that the two of you hadn’t gotten any time to yourselves. you had your own job, despite popes insisting that you stay home and relax, and it seemed like whenever you were home, he was out, and vice versa. 

to be fair, you liked your job, and pope was right, you guys didn’t need the money, thanks to him, but you found yourself getting bored all the time. as a result, you worked a few shifts a week at a small cafe down the street from where the two of you live. today was no different than any other work day, you both got up around the same time, had breakfast together, and then parted ways. you worked until seven, so you were expecting to see him when you got home, but that obviously wasn’t the case.

although you weren’t the biggest fan of his career choice, you liked the money he brought home, and this job, while easy, was supposed to have a big payout, so you were especially excited for him to come home today. that excitement was gone now, three hours after you got home. you had run out of things to do to distract yourself. you had already showered, cleaned up around the house, and even made yourself dinner. normally, you would’ve made something for the two of you, but you figured he could just fend for himself when and if he ever did come home. 

now, you just sat on the couch flipping through the same shitty tv channels, waiting until you heard the familiar sound of keys turning in the door. after giving up with the tv and turning it off, letting your head rest on the back of the couch, you finally hear the door unlocking. immediately, you sit up, your head whipping towards the door. after a moment, the door opens slowly, revealing a safe and annoyingly good looking pope cody. 

“hi,” he says, hesitantly, almost like he’s nervous.

you stand up and walk over to him. looking him up and down, you have to make sure that he wasn’t hurt. he notices what you’re doing.

“i’m okay, i promise,” he assures you. 

“you were late.” your voice is low, but it’s stern.

he takes a step towards you, his eyes locked on yours, “i know i’m sorry-”

you back up, “why?”

“what?”

“why were you late?”

he sighs, “listen, there were more security guards than we thought, and things went south.”

“you couldn’t reach out?” your eyebrows furrow.

“i’m sorry,” he steps forward once again, this time grabbing your hands so you can’t back up. “really. i am so sorry. everything happened so fast.”

you look at him, letting your eyebrows relax. for a brief moment, he thinks you’ve forgiven him. you’re not that easy though. you pull your hands out of his and turn around, walking towards your bedroom.

you hear him call your name from behind you, “wait, where are you going?”

“not good enough,” you reply. vague, but enough to convey your annoyance.

“please, stop, i’ll make it up to you, i promise,” he’s practically whining.

the sound of his voice is almost enough to get you to stop, but you keep walking. once you reach your bedroom you stop. you stand at the foot of your bed, finally turning around to meet his eyes. you intimidate pope, you always have, despite his masculinity, but nothing will ever get him to take his eyes off of yours. 

“what are you doing? talk to me, please,” this time, he’s actually whining. he doesn’t know what to do with himself when you’re upset, so he results in running his fingers through his hair every five seconds. 

“you lied to me,” you tell him, your voice almost cracking. you’re not as upset as you look and sound, but you’re incredibly pent up, and you need him to know that. plus, who is he to doubt you? he would do anything for you, and you know that. 

“i know i did, and i’m sorry. please, let me fix it. let me make you feel good,” he pleads.

you feel the heat in between your legs begin to form, but you must. stay. strong.

“i was waiting for you all day to make me feel good,” you tell him, your voice trailing off at the end.

he gets closer to you, mere centimeters from your face, “i know,” his voice is almost a whisper, “but i’m here now, right?”

you whisper back, “you’re too late.”

before pope gets the chance to say anything, your hand starts toying with the hem of your sleep shorts. he looks down and watches. he has to fight back the urge to hold your hand again, get on his knees, and beg for your forgiveness.

still playing with the hem of your shorts, you back up from him and sit down at the edge of the bed, letting your legs naturally fall apart. then, your hand finds itself under your shorts. pope’s eyes slightly go wide at the sight of you.

“don’t do this…” he says to you, his voice low.

“i’m not doing anything” you reply, innocently. 

your hand moves lower, until your middle and ring fingers are hovering over your clothed heat.

“this isn’t fair.” the words sound pathetic coming out of his mouth.

you begin slowly circling your clit, relieving yourself from the ache, and feeling your underwear getting damp under your fingers. your breath hitches. you look up at pope, forcing down a smile.

“please,” he insists.

“what isn’t fair is me being left alone for so long, wondering where you were.”

pope sighs. he’s out of excuses so he can’t even defend himself. he can feel himself getting hard embarrassingly quickly, and he nervously swallows as he watches you touch yourself. 

you stop for a moment to push yourself fully onto the bed and to slip off your shorts, so all you’re left in is your underwear and one of pope’s shirts. he stands at the foot of the bed, frozen. his heart is racing so fast you can almost hear it, and his cheeks beet red. his dick twitches underneath his jeans, and he wants to relieve himself, but he can’t help but watch you, anxious for your next move.

the two of you have been together for a few years, but he has never seen you act like this. sure, he’s imagined what you’d look like masturbating, and you’ve described it to him a few times, but it’s always been the two of you, together. a group effort. 

despite upsetting you, he is actually astounded at the sight in front of him, and is actually honored to be seeing a part of you that he had never seen before. the only thing that would make this better is if he could touch you.

feeling restricted by your underwear, you slip your hand underneath, and begin circling your clit once again. a soft moan escapes your lips, and you finally break eye contact with pope, but he continues to stare, feeling almost perverted.

he quietly says your name, but you ignore him, letting your head fall back as you continue to play with yourself. 

“can i touch you, please?” he asks, sounding like he is holding back tears.

“no,” you tell him, deciding to finally insert not one, but two fingers into yourself, your walls immediately clenching around them, “fuuuuck,” you whisper to yourself.

nothing will ever compare to his thick fingers, but knowing how worked up he is right now is making yours good enough. the sound of your fingers pumping in and out of you fills the room, and you decide to look up at pope, who is getting antsy. once the two of you make eye contact again, he adjusts his stance, hoping he can relieve the immensely uncomfortable feeling of his length straining against the stiff denim. it doesn’t work.

“i need to touch you. i can’t just watch you like this. it’s driving me crazy,” he admits, letting his head hang low.

“you didn’t need to touch me earlier though, when i was waiting for you, huh?” you manage to get the words out while still fucking yourself, but they’re quiet, and interrupted by various moans.

“i told you i was sorry, what more do you want from me?” he asks, hoping to god that you’ll give him what he wants, but not wanting to push.

“i want you to stand there.. fuck,” you curl your fingers just enough to hit the sweet spot and let your eyes roll into the back of your head, “and watch me play with myself.”

pope bites his lip, trying to stop himself from groaning just at the sight of you. he can’t take the painful throbbing of his cock, so he decides to palm himself through his jeans in an attempt to alleviate himself, even if its slightly.

your eyes flutter shut as you feel your orgasm building, but just before they close completely, you catch pope, doing anything he can to make himself feel better that doesn’t include just undressing himself and fucking you senseless. 

“did i tell you to do that?” you ask, with seriousness.

“fuck,” pope mutters under his breath. he gulps, “n- no.”

“then stop.”

he removes his hand from his crotch area as he painfully watches you ride your fingers, your moans becoming louder and more irregular. you cannot believe how turned on you are, watching him lose his mind at your depriving of his relief. you do feel kind of bad for him, but you’re more horny than anything else.

pope, who has now had enough, gets on his knees at the foot of the bed. he watches you on your back, holding back groans, “please, i can make you feel good- better than this. you know i can,” hes whimpering at your feet.

your orgasm is almost there, and his pitiful voice is speeding up the process, “keep… talking…” you manage to say to him.

a small smile forms at the corner of his lips. in all honestly, he doesn’t care that you won’t let him finish right now, he knows you’ll give in eventually. what matters to him is getting you to finish.

he complies with your request, “please let me fuck you. i know how bad you want it. i promise i’ll never upset you again, just, please,” he whines, not even trying to hide it anymore.

this is enough to get you over the edge. you close your eyes and arch your back as you ride out your orgasm, profanities spewing out of your mouth. you use your thumb to massage your clit once more, trying to prolong the high. 

once its over, you open your eyes to find pope standing and towering over you. he looks at you like you’re the most beautiful woman on the planet, because to him, you are. you have enough energy to get up and onto your knees, so that you’re at the same eye level as him.

“please?” he asks you one last time.

you hold out your hand, the same one you just used to get off, right in front of his face. he holds onto your wrist, and licks it clean, making sure not to break eye contact once.

“i forgive you,” you tell him quietly.

“good.” his hands make their way to the bottom of his shirt, which now has sweat stains that weren’t there when he got home. he takes it off slowly, trying to savor this moment between you two, even though he’s afraid he’s gonna cum in his pants the moment he kisses you. 

ignoring the feeling, he kisses you long and hard, managing to kick his boots off in the process. you have to break up the kiss for a brief moment to take your shirt off, and you hear a small moan from pope at this separation. 

you also finally manage to take your now soaked underwear off, leaving you fully naked. you’re sitting on the bed now, pushing yourself back until you feel the cool headboard touch the hot skin on your back. at this point, pope is also climbing onto the bed, wearing only his boxer briefs. you notice a small dark spot on them, where his precum has managed to soak through.

he kisses you again, mumbling words into your mouth. you can’t make out what he’s saying, too drunk on the feeling of his lips on yours, but you kiss him back, gently slipping your tongue into his mouth.

“i need you, andrew,” you admit to him, though he already knew that.

you feel him smile as he kisses you. he gently places his large hand on your back, guiding you lower until you’re flat on your back. he then takes off his briefs, allowing his length, red and leaking at the tip, to finally spring free. you gulp at his size, it’s something that you will never get used to. he finally positions himself on top of you, holding himself up with his biceps that are nearly as big as your head. 

he lines himself up with your entrance and slowly pushes himself in until he can’t go any further, helping you adjust to him. a guttural groan escapes him. you grab onto his arms, holding on so tight your knuckles turn white. he’s not phased, obviously.

he pulls out slowly, lines up again, and thrusts into you again, but harder. you cry out in pleasure as he begins to maintain a hard and fast pace. you can’t help but let your head fall back and roll your hips into his thrusts, attempting to take more of him than you already are.

“look at me, please… fuck…” pope begs, mid grunts, “i want you to look at me.”

using energy you didn’t think you had, you manage to lift your head up, locking eyes with him as he pounds into you. he lowers himself close enough to be able to kiss you again, but this time, the kisses are sloppy. you can feel your climax building again. you don’t think you’ll be able to hold off for much longer, and neither does pope. he’s surprised he’s made it this long.

it only takes a few more thrusts before he feels you tighten around him, reaching a high that you don’t think you have ever reached before. as he maintains his pace, helping you ride it out, you buck your hips, and his orgasm suddenly hits him like a truck. his cock jerks inside of you as he empties himself, both of you making obscene sounds that fill the bedroom. 

once the two of you are finished, he falls onto the bed beside you, attempting to catch his breath. you do the same, but you prop yourself onto your elbow to get a good look at him. in doing this, you feel the combination of your juices leaking out of you, but you’re not worried about cleaning up right now.

“thank you for playing along,” you tell him.