Fleeting • Jack Abbot 70s AU (NSFW)
MDNI 18+
Summary: Mama always told you to find a good man, just like your daddy– kind, generous, with a silver tongue. She didn’t expect you to take that quite so literally.
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Warnings: recreational drug use, alcohol consumption, smut, porn WITH plot, age gap: reader is mid twenties/ Jack is mid 40s, death of a parent, f reader, no race specified, no body size specified, oral f, fingering f, pinv, no protection, dubcon I guess?, pet names (baby, kid, little girl), no use of y/n, public sex/voyeur, pubic hair (it’s the 70s guys), praise, daddy issues but r doesn’t call him daddy, All characters are very OOC since this is literally an AU
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A/N: guys I had so much fun writing this, please let me know if you liked it or would maybe like to see more AUs!!! Also you guys should see my search history while researching for this, it’s wild.
Word count idk y'all.
You couldn’t bear it, that small suffocating town that backed out onto the forest. The way everybody knew everybody, always sticking their noses in other people's business. Your mama begged you, pleaded with you not to leave. She always had her nose shoved deep into a magazine or played her crackling radio while washing dishes to listen to the news.
Marijuana: The kids aren’t all right!
Beware of Satanic Panic!
Are high waisted jeans turning your child against the lord?
It was all you ever heard, all she ever talked about whether that be at the dinner table or with the neighbours next door who were just as deranged as she was. You couldn’t wait until your 18th birthday, the day you could finally leave– but then your daddy got sick. A couple of years passed, and he seemed to improve, so at the ripe age of 20 you packed your bags and hit the road in the summer of ‘72
She threw a fit, screaming and crying and howling at your father to stop you. “She’s going to bring home a criminal!” She’d cry with a red face and swollen eyes. “Or one of those occult worshippers!”
Your father couldn’t stop you though, he knew that from the beginning. You were always a free spirit, like a wild horse who couldn’t be shut in a paddock for long. He knew the day would come when you’d escape the picket-fence hellscape your mother had created, and he was happy for you to. You had more guts than he did, that’s for sure, but the war would do that to a man.
In some aspects, you wish you had listened to your mother. What the world had to offer wasn’t all it had cracked up to be. Turns out sex, drugs, and rock and roll were only fun in the moment, the songs and magazine articles never talked about the morning after or the shame that would follow. That being said, it was an addictive lifestyle, epic highs and lows. Like a loop, so desperate to escape the sorrow you’d throw yourself back into the high just to feel euphoric again, but what goes up must come down.
You called when you could, wrote if you had the time, and even sent a photograph or two (which absolutely horrified her, she’d reply demanding to know where you were and who the fellows in the picture with you were). Four years had passed without going back, but she’d never stopped asking you to come home, to find a nice man just like your daddy and move back to get married and start a beautiful family. After staying with some friends in Upstate NY for a little while, you’d gotten a call from her. You expected it would be the same as usual, seven years of begging for your return– and it was, but this time you’d actually listen.
Your daddy was dead.
You’d packed immediately, wiped tears away constantly as you drove through the spring sunshine without a single rest stop until you finally returned home to Pittsburgh. Once you saw your mama, you didn’t let her go for hours, letting her sob into your arms for as long as she needed. For as long as you both needed.
Weeks turned into months, spring became late summer, and soon enough your tears started to dry. His funeral was beautiful and big, it really showed what a well-respected man he was. No wonder your mama wanted you to find someone just like him. She’d have a cow if you’d told her about the characters you’d been fraternising with. And if you’d admitted you lost your virginity to some seedy drummer backstage at one of his shows? She’d probably think you were infected with satanic panic and call an exorcist right away. Some details she didn’t need to know, or at least hear the words come out of your mouth. She didn’t recognise you barely after so many years, the sweet little brunette with two braids and frilly white socks who would pray every night at her bed was gone, and in her replacement was a grown woman with frizzy beach waves, skin-tight flare jeans, and shirts that she’d say were more indecent than underwear. But still, you were her little girl. And you came home, that’s what mattered most. You couldn’t leave her alone, not right now. Not in this great big house with nothing but the photos and memories of your daddy dancing with her in the kitchen.
You’d run into old friends from school, so many of them had never gotten out of this two-star town. Settled down fast, or started working a dead-end job. But there were a few, a few that remained as free as you were. One of them, a boy you only ever referred to as Whitaker, had caught you once outside the local grocers and invited you to a party that he and his housemate Trinity were throwing at their place. You didn’t remember Whitaker as much, a shy nerdy kid who treated Trinity like his big scary guard dog, but he’d changed. He wore a funky shirt that looked way too big for him, blue jeans, and had a cigarette hanging from his thin lips.
Hmm, a party could be fun.
You couldn’t dare tell your mama, she’d have a nervous breakdown that you were going out partying only a few months after your daddy’s death, and she hasn’t picked up her Quaaludes prescription yet so a shrill shriek and a whack over your head would be no question. Instead, you waited until she’d gone to bed, and slowly dressed yourself in a pair of shorts with a halter top and a leather patchwork jacket. You became a natural at sneaking out of her house as a teenager, still remembering which floorboards creaked and what window she’d always forget to latch shut. Before long you were enjoying the cool summer night air on your face as you walked to Whitaker and Trinity’s.
It really wasn’t that far, thankfully, and you could hear it far before you could see it. Voices and music were loud, and the visuals far exceeded your expectations. At 11pm, the party was in full swing, with drunks and hippies rolling around in the grass. The inside had a hazy lingering smoke in the air that gave everything a sort of dreamy effect, and the conversation pit was filled with people getting high or practically fucking each other as an orgy– you couldn’t actually tell.
You recognised some people from high school, but the majority were strangers. How the hell did so many cool people end up in this town? And how the hell did Dennis Whitaker know them? You assumed that since they lived together, they must’ve married each other, but you didn’t recall a ring on his finger. And judging by the state of affairs at this rather large get-together, well, it didn’t seem like a marital house by any means. You stepped outside the sliding back door, feeling positively hot boxed inside, and were finally met with the hosts.
“You made it,” Dennis slowly wobbled over to you, his eyes red and his smile was lazy. “Wasn’t sure we were cool enough for you.”
You glanced around, taking everything in from the orange lighting to the handsome men with dark curly chest hair and thick moustaches. “Seems pretty cool to me, Whitaker.”
Trinity comes up behind him, slinging an arm over his shoulder. “Shit, girl, I thought you died!” She laughs. “When Den here told me he invited you, was convinced he’d seen a ghost.”
“You thought I died?” You quirked a brow.
“Yeah, someone told me, uhhh I think it was Joy? From school. You remember Joy?” She asked and you nodded, the name rang a bell. “She's here tonight. Anyway, she told me you got in some car crash out at Vegas, like, last year.”
You scoff. “C’mon, you think a car crash could take me out?”
She just shrugs. “True, you’re probably gonna die like a true rockstar. 27 Club ain’t too far away.”
“Yeah, yeah.” You brush it off, not really wanting to think about death right now since grief had consumed you for the last few months. “Anyway, nice place. But how the hell do you two afford it?”
Trinity turns around to a tall man with dark Brown hair and a scruffy-looking beard walking over. “We don’t, this is Robby’s house.”
Robby looks up at his name being mentioned and smiles warmly as the cigarette hangs from his lips. He steps right beside Dennis, takes a drag, before sticking it in the smaller man’s mouth and greeting you. “I just let the kids stay here, keeps them out of trouble.”
Your eyes go wide at the sight of the grown man placing the cigarette between the lips of Dennis, who’s your age. “Oh, are you Whittakers' dad?” You ask innocently but Robby just chuckles, and Dennis blushes crimson.
“Yeah,” Robby smirks and pulls Dennis away, his hands resting on the smaller man’s waist. “Something like that.” He winks at Dennis and drags a hand down his front as they both walk away.
You turn to Trinity, who’s already staring at you with her hands planted firmly on her hips, she knows you understood that, and her whinging eyes are sizing you up. “You’re not a square, are you?”
“What? No, I don’t care.” You shove your hands in your pockets. “Love is love. And he must love Dennis a lot to let you both stay here for free.”
You see trinity visibly relax and she lifts her beer bottle to her lips for a swig. “Yeah, he’s a doctor. Doesn’t seem it, I know, but he’s rich. When Dennis told me they’d met I was…sceptical at first because of their age gap, but he was a true gentleman. And he took me with him so I can’t really fault him.”
You nod along. “Ain’t nothing wrong with a big age gap.”
She snorts. “Yeah, well. You get used to being around people older than you here. Most of the people here are Robby’s friends anyway.” She turns around and points to an older man who sits by the fire. “That’s Jack, they work together.”
He was…Jesus Christ. You swore you felt your panties get instantly wet at the sight of him, freckled skin illuminated by the orange licks of fire, reddish-Brown hair that was starting to grey, and plump lips with a joint hanging out of them, decorated with scruff. He almost reminded you of…
“And over there is Mel and Frank,” she points elsewhere, forcing you to drag your eyes away from the man at the fire. “And then that’s–” her voice trails off into a mumble in your head as your eyes drag back to the older man at the fire.
People around him were laughing, chatting, or swaying in their seats to the music, but her just sat. He was kinda slumped to the side, with his legs spread wide and a thick bulge right at his groin. The way he took a drag and let it blow out slowly was sensual, you could see the way it relaxed his body.
“And that’s it, at least for Robby’s coworkers.” Trinity’s voice took you away once again, and you shot her a smile. “So, have fun, and if you get too fucked up, you can crash here.” She shrugged and walked off to find Dennis and Robby.
You found yourself standing alone for a moment, you were far too sober for your liking, and something about being back in your hometown had you feeling all sorts of small. But as your eyes flicked back to the man at the fire, you noticed he was already staring at you. His eyes were trailing up your drew legs, lingering momentarily at your chest, before finally locking into eye contact with you. Perhaps it was the way he drank you in, the way his eyes almost twinkled at you (though that’s probably the fire reflecting in his glassy-high eyes, but something took over you and you found yourself taking calculated steps over to where he sat.
“This seat taken?” You ask lowly, he just shakes his head and gestures to the open chair next to him.
He holds out a dark brown bottle to you. “Beer?” He offers it, and you take it with a smile as your skin sticks to the seat below you.
“Thanks,” Your eyes trail down slightly to his wrinkled neck. “Trinity said you’re a friend of Robby’s?”
“Yeah, name’s Jack.” He props himself up more. “I work with the grumpy old bastard.”
“Didn’t seem so grumpy to me.”
“That’s because he’s high, with a night off to play with his favourite toy.” His voice penetrates my bones as he says the word ‘toy’.
You shrug and take a swig of your beer. “Looks like you’re high with a night off too.”
He smirks slightly. “Yet no one to play with.”
You lean over slightly, and pluck the joint from his lips, placing it in yours and taking a long drag. As you blow it out, you watch his chest expand as he inhales some of your smoke. “The night's still young.” Your smile grows wide, and he matches it, lifting the joint from your fingers to place it back in his own mouth.
“That it is.”
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Hours seemed to go by of you and Jack just talking by the fire, but between the amount of beer you’ve drunk and cannabis you’ve smoked, time is skewed. As the substances relaxed you both, you found your bodies slumping more and more to the side, inching closer together. He was surprisingly open, he told you about Vietnam and how he lost his leg, why he became a doctor, and how he met Robby two decades ago. He also wasn’t shy about asking you questions, wanting to know everything about you and your life and genuinely seeming interested in your answers.
He was kind.
After his final joint was lit and shared between the two of you, the night had gotten very hazy. People were practically fucking each other in front of everyone, there were drugs neither of you had even heard of before being passed around like candy, and it was obvious this was a house for misfits. The ones who didn’t fully belong somewhere else, or who had something to hide. It was perfect for a person like you, and suddenly the idea of staying in this deadbeat town didn’t seem that bad anymore– there’s a safe haven now.
“How’s about a pick-me-up?” Jacks gruff voice croaked out and he held out a small plastic bag filled to the brim with white powder.
You felt your skin get warm, excitement brewing in you, and you nodded eagerly. Jack stood first, knocking over a few beer bottles that had been placed haphazardly on the grass below him, and held out his hand for you. When you grabbed it, you felt a tingle go through your spine, and he smiled at you as if he could feel it himself.
He wove you through the party, inside and past multiple people of any sort kissing and grinding on each other. He’d give nods and greetings to people he seemed to know, even sharing a few words with Robby who had Dennis straddling his lap in the conversation pit. By the time he’d kicked open the door to the avocado green bathroom, it looked like people were way ahead of us when it came to cocaine.
Traces of powder and rolled-up bills littered the sink, toilet, vanity, anything flat really. He locked the door behind us and started to pour out two thick lines right onto the counter.
He was definitely generous.
Once the lines were set, he pulled two separate hundred-dollar bills from his wallet and started rolling them up, passing one to me with hooded eyes that looked darker somehow in the bathroom lighting than out by the fire. As you held the bills to your noses, you both leant down and snorted the powder deeply, faces mere inches from one another. Jack rose first, seemingly faster at doing this than you and let out a groan as he squeezed his eyes shut and groaned slightly before wiping his nose with a chuckle. You finished soon after, smiling up at him with crinkled eyes.
You were practically pressed against him, and as Jack leant in you thought maybe he’d kiss you, but instead he stuck out his tongue and licked at the traces of powder around your nose. You felt the same sensation of wetness pool in your panties, and when he was done he didn’t even pull away.
“It’s good shit,” he grunted out. “You’ll be able to tell soon.”
“Looking forward to it, Jack.”
—
It was indeed very good coke, and Jack maintained his generosity by all too eagerly pouring out more lines for both of you every time your high would start to dip. The party continued to rage on for a few hours, and Jack (now influenced by the confidence drug) keenly introduced you more personally to his coworkers who seemed rather pleased to see their boss relax a little. You particularly enjoyed the company of Mel and Frank, as well as Yolanda when you could actually get a word out of her, though usually her mouth was occupied by Trinity’s.
The hours started to drag on, people were leaving or passed out around in various locations. But for you and Jack, you still felt on top of the world. The final line of coke really did wonders for you, finally instilling you with enough confidence to drag him down to the now unoccupied conversation pit as the party around you was no more.
Bedrooms were all taken, but no one would notice if you and Jack spent some one-on-one time in the conversation pit, everyone was too fucked up. He sat against the cushy sofa bench and instead of sitting next to him, you swung your legs over either side of his thick thighs and sat down right over his soft bulge. His hands immediately found your waist, nails digging into your skin, jacket long discarded now.
He looked up at you like you were the most powerful woman in the world, eyes tracing over your skin as if committing you to memory. You had one arm wrapped around his neck with your fingers tickling at the base of his hair, and the other was drawing slow lines up and down his chest that was slightly exposed from his half-unbuttoned shirt.
His lips were so close to yours, both mouths parted, just breathing each other and letting the warmth be the only thing touching you. Confidently, you started squirming on top of him, and felt his already large soft bulge grow harder– seems cocaine didn’t seem to affect him like most men. Good.
A strangled groan escaped his lips, but you swallowed it, finally planting your mouth on his. There is no asking for entrance, your tongues are already finding each other. Not fighting, but melting perfectly into each other, both attempting to taste every inch of the inside of each other's mouths. The bitter aftertaste of beer, the dryness from the weed, it was all so erotic to you.
His hands moved lower to your hips, pulling you down harder on top of him as you started grinding down on his hard erection. He helped guide your movements as his lips left yours and moved to your neck, kissing and biting all the while leaving a trail of hickies that you know will be a bitch to hide from your mother, but you can’t bring yourself to care.
One of his hands finds your ass, squeezing and spanking slightly over your shorts, while the other reaches for the tie in your halter neck and starts pulling at the bow until it unravels and falls, exposing your heavy breasts. He grips one, it fits perfectly in his big, rough hand, and then he pinches slightly at your nipple so it hardens before leaning you back slightly and taking the peak in his mouth, suckling at it.
You let out a moan, not even caring if anyone hears you, and let him lap at your sensitive breasts. He nibbles right on your nipples, making you help which of course brings a chuckle out of him but he doesn’t stop sucking until he’s content with how swollen he’s got it and releases it with a pop.
You’re convinced you’re so wet that you must be soaking all the way through your denim shorts. His rock-hard cock is perfect to grind over, but it’s not enough. Without letting you go, he slides from the sofa onto the shaggy carpet floor and lays you down. He removes his own shirt, revealing a scarred chest peppered with red and grey hair and you can’t help but drink him in– the party lighting still on and painting him a dark burnt rust colour.
You lift the rest of your halter top off as he makes work of your shorts, unbuttoning them and pulling them off with your panties in one swift movement. As soon as he locks eyes on your bush, you watch him shiver. His hands find your knees and he spreads you open nice and wide so he can see your glistening, puffy pussy from beneath your curls. Normally you’d be a bit more shy at being so exposed, both from being naked and in a public place, but the coke is making you brave.
The way he drinks you in is sinful, and he shifts himself to lie on his thick tummy, pushing the tip of his nose right into your bush and inhaling so deeply you’d think you had a line of coke hidden down there. He’s rutting his denim-clad bulge into the carpet now, and with a permission-seeking glance from him, he delves in.
You throw your head back instantly, the feeling of his warm mouth comforting in a way you didn’t realise you needed. You’d been eaten out plenty in your life, but this was different. Must be his age, he’s experienced. He licks a long stripe up your slit before latching his lips around your sensitive bud. Your hands find his curls and tug at them slightly as you start to grind onto his mouth, his suckling making your already puffy folds even more swollen.
“Mmmf,” he murmured into your cunt. “Taste s’fucken good, little girl.”
Your eyes roll back at his words, chest heaving as he works you perfectly with a tongue so perfect it may as well be made out of silver. He lapped at you like a thirsty dog, and the second two of his thick fingers prodded at your entrance, they were in you before you could register them. You gasped out loud and bucked up into his mouth forward as he thrust his digits into you, over and over and over, curling them up to his your most sensitive spot.
“Oh, fuck!” You cried out. “Jack, mmm, don’t stop!”
He chuckles against your clit, vibrating against it. “Such naughty words for a young lady,” you could almost feel him smirking against your folds.
“Please!” You cried out, feeling your stomach burn as you clenched your walls around his fingers. “Please, p-please, I’m so close!”
He starts licking at your clit again, and you swear you're seeing stars. Your cunt feels on fire, desperate for release but Jack remains patient, enjoying watching you squirm as you chase the high you crave so.
As soon as it snaps, your body almost convulses. Your juices are splashing out against the bottom of his chin, but he doesn’t ease up. He continues to eat and curls his strong fingers as you ride out your orgasm under his touch, pulling at his hair and scratching at his scalp while you try to stifle a moan, but fail miserably.
Once you settle, Jack slows his movements, and slowly lifts from your now very swollen cunt with an accomplished look in his face, your juices dripping from his scruffy chin. He doesn’t waste any time as you catch your breath, working at his belt buckle and unzipping his jeans to shove them down with his boxers.
His cock springs out, huge, veiny and uncut. The base of him is covered in a thick coating of grey-auburn, unruly curls. You stare in a bit of fear at the way it bobs, over you, casting an even larger shadow over your bare skin. You reach up to grip it, but he catches your wrist and pushes you back to lie down on the carpet while he crawls over you.
You can feel his hot tip graze over your entrance, teasing you evilly with each stroke through your sloppy holes. “You want it?” He hums in your ear.
“Y-yes, please! Please, don’t tease me.” He chuckles at your response.
“But you look so sweet like this, little girl.”
You squeeze your eyes shut in frustration, nails digging into his chest. “Jack, please!”
He kisses your neck and presses just the tip into your opening, the sting already setting in. “One more time, kid.” He grumbles in your ear. “Wanna hear it.”
“Oh, god!” You cry out, not caring about your volume anymore. “Please, fuck me, Jack!”
You feel him smirk against your ear, and then he’s pushing into you with a swift, harsh thrust. His cock kiss-punched your cervix as he bottoms out and for a quick, fleeting moment, he stills. The tip of his nose is brushing yours as you adjust, but as soon as you nod for him to continue, he’s unleashed. His thrusts resemble something of an animal, long, deep, hard, fast. He’s chasing his high now just as much as you were while he ate you like dessert.
Nothing could be heard except for your grunts and moans, heavy breathing in each other's ears. His lips attacked your neck while he pistoned into you over and over again.
“S-so fucken tight!” He growled in your ear like a wolf. “So- oh fuck- so mmmm warm and w-wet for me, baby.”
“Oh, Jack, fuck, sooo big!” You felt tears well up in your eyes as he continued to bully his fat, raw cock into your gummy walls.
“Taking me so well, kid! Mm– fuck!” He grunts and you can feel his thrusts getting sloppy. “Such a good girl.”
His praise enlightens something in you, it had been so long since your own father praised you, and now he’d never be able to again. But having Jack on top of you, panting and moaning as your body takes everything he’s giving you– well, it’s enough to satiate your itch.
“M’close!” He grunts. “W-where?!”
“On…on my–!” You don’t even get the words out before he’s pulling out of you and gripping his cock like a python, jerking himself harshly.
With one final tug, bringing his foreskin back, he shoots thick hot ropes of cum all over your belly. With every spurt of his seed, he’s roughly yanking his cock, whispering and moaning as his spill decorates your pretty body, milking his cock of every drop.
He looks dizzy as he takes a few big deep breaths, and then collapses on top of you with his head in the crook of your neck, not caring about his spend now squelching between you. Your fingers trace lazily on his back and he hums contentedly from the best sex you’ve ever had.
…
Yeah, you were staying.
Please consider reading my Jack Abbot fic, it’s smutty lol.
Timid, temperamental, and treacherously lustful- all words that could be used to describe Shay Lawson, depending on who you'd ask. The trut
