#buck!reader

[storiesofthev01d]

https://www.tumblr.com/storiesofthev01d/812468412118941697/deer-male-reader-nurse-bear-jack-abott-what-ya?source=share

Beautiful!! Also the threat at the end feels dangerous, since Abbot feels like the type of person to find the way to do so, literally putting the name in "When there is will, there is a way"

Make a Man Mum Out of You

Pairing ~ Bear!Abbot x Buck!Nurse!Reader Pt2

Summary ~ After the comment of 'making you a mum' from your boyfriend, you challenge him. But Jack is nothing if not one to follow through on threats and promises.

CW ~ faux breeding kink, soft brat tamer abbot🤤🤤🤤, unsafe sex [wrap it before you tap it] at the start, reader is kinda a babied loser,

A/N ~ SO SO SO SO SO SORRY THIS TOOK EIGHT BILLION YEARS!!!!

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦

"Fuck- you're lucky you can't get pregnant, hon. I'd have filled you up nightly by now."

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶꒷

You barely follow along at this point, huffing heavily into the pillow your boyfriend had so mercifully granted you. The sweat of his flexed, eye-catching chest dripped unto your own back, the bed frame tapping in a rhythmic motion that was the line between too much and too little. His arms had caged on both sides of your warm, naked torso, admiring the stuttered breaths you gave from each thrust. You only gave out a caught hum at his tease. A hum that, admittedly, might've been to quiet too actually hear, but who could blame you? With the way Jack had at least 30 years of knowing how to treat a boy right and used it against you, it could make even a straight man blush.

It seemed, though, that wasn't a sufficient answer for Jack, who slowed his hips to a lazy drag, laying some of his weight utop you. The waves of pleasure receded like any natural tide should, making you huff, an exhale of mild annoyance.

"Why'd'ya stop?" You whined irritatively, letting your shaky legs finally give out and fall to the heavyweighted blankets, freshly damp with both of your sweat, arousal, among other fluids. Jack scoffed a low laugh, amused with the way you were still being feisty and biting back at him despite being, quite literally, wet and tired beneath him.

"You've gotta give me a response, sweetheart," Jack lightheartedly chastised, tutting and tightening the grip of your hair when you pouted and tried to roll your ass deeper into his cock. He teasingly just rested inside you, refusing to give back the boiling pleasure you had taken for granted.

"I did," you grumbled, hugging the pillow you rested on. Yet your voice, again, was probably too quiet to count as much of a response.

The salt and pepper haired doctor continued to act as if he couldn't hear your quiet huffs and pouts, just letting both your bodies rest. He propped his leg up onto the bed, the metal prosthetic clicking quietly as it shifted for you both to be a bit more at ease. "C'mon, hon, I know you've got it in you," Jack playfully urged, allowing just a single drag of his cock, out and back in, but nothing more. "Just tell me what you want."

You huffed, somewhere deciding it was a good idea to continue refusing to simply speak up, since Abbot wanted to act like he couldn't hear you.

The hummed quiet buzzed between you two, holding the lack of response a few moments longer as if to let you second guess yourself. Then, Abbot gave a slow, long sigh that hid his amusement. His hand on your hip and the other on your hair receded without any hint of hesitancy, not long after the cold of the room greeted your propped up ass when he pulled out.

"Wha- wait, I didn't mean-"

"Sorry, buck," Abbot cut off with no real apology. He had already turned his back to you, tugging his pants back on while you sat there nude and eyes flashing with embarassed indignanty. There was an obvious humour his teasing acts, judged by the light flicks of his small tail. "If'ya can't tell me what you want, I can't give it to'ya."

You flustered, mouth gaping stupidly like a fish out of water before shutting tightly and pursing your lips. Your boyfriend's eyes turned back to you, shining with mirth and a sort of 'well?' look. As if waiting for you to take it back and admit yourself wrong.

You shoved your tongue out at him with an annoyed look after a considerate second, fixing yourself to be comfortable on the bed without the support of Jack. You didn't need him. The older man only grinned at your reaction, not bothering to put a shirt on and exiting the bedroom with a sprinkled in, 'Your loss, kiddo.'

Well, whatever! Screw him, if he thought he was gonna get that out of you. You could get off on your own, you weren't some stupid, pining middle school boy whining yourself to sleep every night.

‿̩͙⊱༻☂︎༺⊰‿̩͙

You were a stupid, pining middle school boy, whining yourself to sleep, as it turns out. You had stayed on the cool blankets of the usually shared bed, trying to make best with your now half chub. Teasing and finishing yourself just wasn't the same, not when you were so used to being pampered by a silver fox. With every failed attempt, you grew more overstimulated than actually pleasured, the dripping of your body switching from arousal to frustrated, held-back tears. Maybe if you'd had just been a little nicer, a little more open with your desires rather than playing a fraudful role of an indifferent prince.

Whining softly with more exasperation than satisfaction this time, you recalled the full feeling of Jack's cock deep in you as if he were some mourned, dead husband instead of just in the other room making soup.

With your hard-on ruined and ego rolled around in dust, you lugged yourself out of bed, a heavy sore-loser scrunch of your face. You padded out of the bedroom, only covering your body with the shirt Jack left behind, which tickled down to just barely hide your swinging cock as you walked.

Jack was happily situated at the front of the stove, a pot of minestrone soup boiling infront of him as he supervised the cooking process. Deformed but tough horns pressed into his open, muscled back, your own special way of stealing away his attention. He didn't answer or turn immediately, still playfully taunting at the way you had done the same just earlier. This only served to fuel your embarassed frustration, pressing your head a bit more insistantly until it began to leave marks on the other man's back and he finally faced you and granted some recognition.

"What's up, kiddo? Ready to use your words yet?" Abbot tormented with an annoyingly soft and sweet voice you adored. You huffed, fisting at the deep green shirt that hung off you as you felt the want to apologize and properly ask slip away.

"Fuck you," was all your mind came up with.

Jack laughed, letting the noise linger a moment before drawing back into a controlled, quiet hum. "That's no way to apologize, now, is it, sweetheart?"

You bit back another fiesty snap before you cornered yourself into no way to reach your desires. Instead, you pulled your focus from your boyfriend to the bubbling pot behind him, eyes trained on the appetizing looking meal as if talking to it than Jack.

"I..." you grappled a second, sucking your teeth and coughing up nothing as if it would help throw the words up and out of your throat. "'M sorry-" the words slurred, still avoiding looking at your the shirtless doctor. "-I didn't- I didn't mean to be such a brat-" That was a lie. "-an' I should've just... told you that I wanted you to breed me..."

Jack hummed, considering the shoved admission in total before finally voicing his own response. "Mm. That so, buck?" He played, a hand urging you to look at him. "Y'know, I'm sure that would be a lovely apology if you were actually sincere about it."

You scoffed dramatically, shoulders squaring for just a split moment that quickly melted when the older gentleman shut you up with a much-too-short kiss. Flustering this time, you stuttered over the cocktail of emotions while you tried to regain the intellect to speak. It didn't help your teased pride that Abbot grinned the whole time.

You grew quiet, partially frozen on how to start- properly, this time- and partially still wanting to back out to save what little ego you had left.

Jack noticed this- as he always did with everything, to your adorment annoyance. Yet still, with your puffed cheeks and half-heartedly grumbly look, he kept an enjoyable smile and patient tone with you.

"Let me help you start; 'I'm sorry...'" The aged doctor supplied, eyes never leaving yours even with your avoidant gaze.

"...'m sorry-"

"Ah, ah. Look at me when you say it, sweetheart."

You huffed quietly and bit at your cheek, though followed his guidance and picked your words back up. "'I'm... sorry for bein' a brat. I should've just told you what I wanted." The words were still somewhat mumbled, but it was certainly improvement compared to your outright refusal to cooperate in the bedroom.

"That's better, buck," Jack approved, genuine satisfaction slipping through his voice for just a lingered moment. The spark of enjoyment upon his voiced praise didn't last too long, though, as the other man decided he wasn't quite done with you yet. "And what exactly was it you wanted, hm?"

Pride rushed down the drain, embarrassment flooding in replacement as your face burned to match. You shuffled on your feet and tugged at the borrowed shirt you wore, it coming back to you that you were basically naked and pouting apologies infront of your boyfriend, who was cooking soup. You let your mind linger on that, rather than the desire of what you wanted Jack to do to you. The desire that remained to simmer deep in your guts and pulled a quiet sigh from you that bordered on a whine.

"C'mon, honey, we've made good progress. Just tell me and I'll make it alllll better again," Abbot urged softly, pulling you a bit closer and propping your body to lean against his. He grinned a bit sharper when he felt the raise of your cock, prodding against him with only the thin fabric of his own shirt to 'hide' it.

"Want'chu to... breed...me...," you continued to mumble, trying to keep you face still as if you weren't literally blushing, shuffling, looking away when you spoke.

"Sorry, hon, I don't think I quite heard you there." Abbot leaned in towards you, inadvertently pressing both of you closer as he dramatized trying to hear your flustered utterments. "Mind repeating that, just a bit lou-"

"Said I want'chu t'breed me, okay?" Your words rushed out, pronunciation strung together in a way that lost some of the words individually, but the message certainly getting across.

The admittance seemed to hang between the minimal space between you two, doing nothing to help the ache between your thighs nor the burn of your cheeks. Only when you shifted and looked down as if to back away did Abbot finally deliver a response; pulling you back onto him and speaking with a low, praising hum. "There we go, hon. See? That wasn't so hard."

The nightshift doctor turned around and clicked the flames of the stove off, the boiling mixture of vegetables beginning the timid process of cooling. You were taken aback for just a split moment, thinking your boyfriend was going to tease you further by doing nothing with your admittance, though the doubt seeping out of you when he pressed his lips to yours.

"We've got at least 30 minutes before this pot gets cold. You wanna finish now, or-"

"Finish. Please."

[murdrdocs]

if someone is asked to describe buck!reader, the words they'll likely use are: mysterious, intimidating, off-putting. but then quickly, almost correctively, the words that follow are: pretty, beautiful, gorgeous, ethereal. and they're all right.

she is as mysterious as she is pretty. she is as intimidating as she is beautiful. she is as off-putting as she is gorgeous. and she is ethereal.

she's wise, and that’s what makes her so intelligent. she's observant, yet she keeps to herself. most people think she never knows what's going on, absolutely clueless to the happenings around her, but she's always aware. she just doesn’t feel a need to be incredibly vocal unless prompted.

she's incredibly loyal. loyal to those around her. loyal to herself. loyal to her home and her culture.

there is a masculine energy to her and that's what's most intimidating to others. but she doesn't mind. she owns it.

she wears earthy tones, animal print, splashes of colors found in nature like a crimson red or ocean blue. sometimes dandelion yellow when she has a pep in her step.

in an office setting—particularly as a journalist—her desk is neatly cluttered. it seems to be an oxymoron, but she makes it work somehow. trinkets she's collected from friends and family. a mug that she has replaced with a fresher one, one without a chip in the bottom, but she still gravitates towards the original ceramic cup naturally. photos of herself with those she loves, clippings of her work, a cheap plastic award she won during a work christmas party. she works hard, but she doesn't lose herself in her work often. and if she does, it's willing. she surrenders herself to the work, especially when it's personally rewarding.

paired with a demi-god, she’s challenging, yet she holds her own. she's a fighter and a natural leader, a role she didn't exactly seek out but it was bestowed upon her. a role that is likely more ceremonial than it is official, but she doesn't mind it that way.

in a horror setting, she’s the final girl. but not the one you would expect. she’s not completely blameless, there’s some blood on her hands. some for survival, yes, but some because she couldn’t control it. because her hands shook until they didn’t. because there’s something inside of her that itched and stretched until she let it free—until she let it breathe. and now all it wants to do is breathe and be free exist. but she contains it. just like she always contains herself.