Daddy kink with Jax, him catching you waiting up for him after a late night with the club, wearing nothing but his shirt in the kitchen. Also can it be the first time you call him daddy and he’s absolutely intrigued.
Sitting Pretty.
unspoken desires can only stay unspoken for so long.
jax teller x female reader
warnings - smut. cursing. daddy kink. jax is somehow so degrading but so loving at the same time.
a/n - YEEEEEEEEEAH. murphy writing a daddy kink… who would’ve thought they’d see the day. anyway i’d call this man anything he wanted me to x
masterlist. inbox.
It’s a bad habit, the waiting up.
He tells you not to do it. Says honey, I don’t want to keep you awake. I’ll just come to bed when I get home in that gruff voice of his. He uses that persuasive tone, the one that makes you weak at the knees. I don’t know what time I’ll be back, baby. I don’t want to keep you up.
And yet, you do it anyway.
You occupy your time with tv shows, movies, books. Cleaning, tidying, cooking. Anything that’ll keep your mind from racing, wondering what Jax is doing, what the club are talking about, if they’re in trouble yet again.
But there’s none of that tonight. Tonight, you’re sat on the couch in nothing but a t shirt that belongs to your boyfriend, staring into empty space. All because you can’t stop thinking about something that happened this morning.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
The glass had slipped from your hand before you could stop it, shattering all over the clubhouse floor. A chorus of patronising but amused sounds echoed around you, coming from all of the guys sat at the table.
Jax jumps up from his seat immediately, standing up to see if you’re alright.
“Ooo, Daddy’s disappointed.”
The quip has come from Tig, to no one’s surprise. You look up from your knees to see that actually, Jax doesn’t look disappointed. There’s a sparkle in his eye that you can’t quite put your finger on. It’s mischief and curiosity and self satisfaction all at once.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
It’s replayed in your head all day.
That damn look in his eye.
At first, you thought that maybe it was because you were on your knees on the ground. He’s been very vocal about how he will never, ever, get sick of the sight of you staring up at him.
But the more you think about it, the more there’s no denying that the twinkle in his eye appeared when Tig had called him Daddy. Or maybe you’re just convincing yourself to twist the situation to fit the fantasies that swirl around in your head day in, day out.
You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t hear the side door open, footsteps rumbling across your kitchen floor.
“Baby, what have I told you about waiting up?”
“Hey,” you breathe, always happy to see him. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Too busy daydreamin’,” he observes, wrapping his arms around you from behind. “Wish I could read your mind.”
“You don’t,” you laugh, securing your arms over his to squeeze him tight. “It’s not very interesting.”
He smells like gasoline and smoke, all musky and masculine. The scent of him drives you insane, like some sort of instant aphrodisiac designed just for you.
“Missed ya,” he whispers in your ear, pressing his body into yours. “Been thinking about you all day. Was secretly hoping you’d be sittin’ all pretty for me when I got back. And here you are, wearing nothing but my shirt, lookin’ like a goddamn angel.”
“I’ve been waiting for you.”
“What did I do to deserve a sweetheart like you, huh?”
You hum, leaning back into the firm warmth of him.
“Now tell me, my little daydreamer… what have you been thinking about?”
His hands migrate from your waist, skimming up your body so they’re massaging your tits.
“Just you,” you breathe. “Always you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He’s hot and heavy against your back, grinding his hips into your ass to relieve some of the friction that’s driving him insane.
One of his hands winds it way around your neck, squeezing ever so gently to make you even dizzier. His other hand is slipping under his shirt that you’re wearing to cup you over your panties, his middle finger swiping along the seam to feel how wet you are.
“You’re fuckin’ soakin’,” he groans, all deep and raspy. “Fuck, you’re nothing but a desperate whore after midnight. Sittin’ here, thinking about all the things you want me to do to you when I get home…”
You seem to have lost your words, rendered speechless as you buck your hips to try and get him where you want him.
“What d’ya want, baby? Tell me.”
“Fingers,” you choke. “Please.”
He whips your panties down your legs before you can even process it, kicking your ankles apart to give him better access. His fingers are dragging through your core in an instant, gathering your slick and sliding right in without any protest.
Jax curls his digits and buckles your knees as he does it, while you grip onto the countertop for dear life.
“Right there? Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Filthy girl. Filthy fuckin’ girl.”
All you can do is whine, panting for breath as he slides his fingers in and out, his pace utterly relentless.
“Oh, baby. Can you feel it dripping down your legs? Can you feel it soakin’ my hand? My favourite little whore. Just can’t think straight when I’m touchin’ you, can ya?”
He’s rasping the words right into your ear, his breath tickling your neck and giving you instant goosebumps.
“Jax.”
“Atta girl. Say my name, darlin’. Let everyone know who you belong to.”
You’re not sure if it’s the way he’s curling his fingers, or the honeyed words he’s rasping down your ear, or the fact that he’s claiming you as his so brazenly that it makes you dizzy, but it slips off your tongue before you can even think about stopping it.
“Daddy.”
His movements halt completely, both of you frozen in place. You figure if you don’t move a muscle or make a sound, he’ll carry on like nothing occurred in the first place.
That doesn’t happen.
Instead, Jax pulls you flush to his body, plastering you to his chest. One hand is still in between your legs, the other one tightening its grip around your throat. He’s panting like he’s run a marathon, body vibrating with animalistic need.
“Oh honey… what was that?”
“Hmm?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, smart girl.”
You shrug, which is the wrong move entirely.
“Nuh uh, you ain’t getting away that easy. Repeat yourself, baby. Tell me what you said.”
You’re still hesitating, reluctant to potentially embarrass yourself. Jax dips his head so his mouth his resting against your ear, teeth nipping at that spot on your neck he knows makes you weak.
“Spit. It. Out.”
“Daddy,” you breathe, somewhat relieved to not have to bottle it up anymore. “Fuck, daddy.”
“That’s my girl,” he purrs, and you can hear the grin in his voice. “That’s my fucking girl.”
His hand that was around your neck twists itself into your hair as his other hand pushes you firmly between your shoulder blades, bending you over the kitchen counter. He kicks your ankles apart, folding himself right over you.
“Daddy’s gonna fuck you now, pretty girl. Gonna fuck you until you can’t remember anyone’s name but mine.”
Both of you groan when he slides inside with no resistance. You grip the edge of the countertop for stability, knowing you’ll fly over it if you don’t hold on.
“Fuck, you feel like heaven. A filthy fucking angel.”
“Jax,” you choke. “You feel so good.”
He presses a gentle kiss to your head before setting a brutal pace with his hips, his pelvis slamming into your ass with every thrust. It takes everything in you to stay upright, knees buckling every time he pulls back and re enters.
“All mine,” he growls as he tugs your hair so your back arches. “Who do you belong to, hmm?”
“You,” you manage to squeak out. “You.”
“Hmm? Who?”
“You, Jax.”
“Say that again?”
“You, daddy. Fuck.”
“There it is. Perfect girl.”
He’s changed his angle ever so slightly to tilt his hips upwards, meaning he’s hitting exactly the right spot every time he slams into you. You’re dizzy with it, overwhelmed in the best way, gasping for air as your climax gets closer and closer.
“You wanna come? Yeah?”
All you can do is nod your head frantically, desperate for the release that’s been building up all day.
“Ask for it. Beg me like the whore you are.”
“Please,” you instantly start babbling. “Please, Jax. Want it, please.”
“So polite,” he laughs, tone dripping with condescension. “That’s not what I want to hear though, and you know it.”
You take a deep breath, willing yourself to think straight for one minute.
“Please let me come, daddy.”
That’s all he needs. He pulls his hand from your hair and slides it down your front, rubbing quick and firm circles on your clit to throw you over the edge. It does the trick instantly, your legs turning to jelly as your head tilts back and your back arches. Your orgasm rips through you like a tidal wave, uncontrollable and all consuming in the best way.
You’re squeezing him so tight that Jax can’t hold on any longer, coming inside you with a deep groan that rumbles through both of your bones.
All that can be heard is two sets of lungs heaving for air, both of you half collapsed on the cool wood of the countertop. Jax wraps his arms around you, cushioning the impact as he hooks his foot around your ankle to take you both down to the ground. You melt against him on the kitchen floor, revelling in the warmth of his body against the cold bite of the tiles. Your boyfriend presses a kiss to your hair, fingertips tracing absent minded patterns across any skin he can reach.
You’re not sure if you’ve been laying there for five minutes or an hour when Jax speaks.
“So how long have you been sitting on that one, huh?”
“Shut up,” you whine, burying your face in his chest.
“Nuh uh, daddy wants an answer,” he teases, squeezing you as tightly as he can.
“I hate you,” you laugh, trying to squirm out of his grip to no avail.
“Daddy loves you too.”
“I hate you.”
