♡Puppy!Reader who can't stand the idea of coming off as needy or 'too much' with their owner!! Whining when Jack finally comes home from his long, draining shift [possibly double shift] at the ER, only to later be found pouting at the foot of his bed, tail flicking and ears pinned down and feeling bad for wanting his attention so desperately
☆Puppy!Reader who ends up sleeping most of the day away, lazing around in stolen boxers and a too-big shirt from his owner and dozing off in the any spot on the floor glazed with sunlight
♡Puppy!Reader chewing on anything that gives a good enough texture- a paperclip he found in a junk drawer, small rubber at the end of his pencil while doodling, the beads of his bracelet, the charms of his necklace
☆Puppy!Reader who never finds these textures satisfying enough, or is told to drop it by Jack. Quietly huffing while laying on the older man's lap, lightly chewing at the skin of his cheek, before feeling his lips gently urged open and the insistent need for something in his mouth is finally mellowed at the feeling of his owner's thumb pressed against his tongue
♡Puppy!Reader with a much larger Hybrid!Jack Abbot. Maybe a wolf or badger, but some type of pack animal that a part of him deep down recognizes the smaller pup as something to take care of
☆Puppy!Reader who basically immediately falls asleep with the right firm touch and warm closeness. A hand running thoroughly through his hair or a palm resting against his lower stomach, or being tucked inbetween Jack's chest and the cushioning of the nice couch
hihi! i love your work, n i was wondering if u take reqs? :o if so, can we have abbot clicker training puppy!reader? pls n ty!! >_<
AHHHH YESYES OFC THANKS YOU FOR THE WONDERFUL REQUEST
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡
Good Choices [and then some]
Pairing~ Jack Abbot x Male!Puppy!Reader
Summary~ Clicker training with your new owner :3c
CW~ implied past abuse, use of 'good boy' once or twice,
A/N~ Thank you for my first request :D!!!!!! Genuinely I was in a slump for a few days this really made me excited and I loved writing this. Also wasn't entirely sure if you wanted platonic/romantic, gender neutral/male... feel free to get specific with requests!! :]
⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨🐾୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹
It started with insistence.
"My therapist told me I needed I hobby."
"I don't think this is what they meant."
A tipsy trip after a shift, accompanied by other doctors and nurses, went from a bar to a hybrid pound. How, exactly, the nightshift doctor's not entirely sure. He's pretty sure they walked, but he wouldn't bet money on it.
Regardless, by migraine-filled morning, Jack found himself drawing out of bed to figure out what the soft whining sound was. His neighbor's didn't have a dog or pet, last he checked. He certainly didn't- oh.
The signed papers on his counter said otherwise.
For a moment, the older man just stared at you, having found the tightest corner in the house between the couch and the windowsill and decided that's where you'd spend your time in this strange new building. To be totally honest, being adopted by a tipsy doctor while cooed at by obviously drunker hospital staff was not on your plans ever since being captured and 'taken in'. Being adopted at all felt off to you, knowing the last owner you had was... less than kind. Finally running away from that place felt great- and now being back in a house? Plus, the guy was tipsy when he adopted you! Not exactly the best first impression.
Needless to say, you were crouched down as far as you could, eyes narrowed and glaring at the strange man. Well, as best you could when you were too nervous to raise the sullen whimper-changed-growl from a mumbled hum. You still didn't know how this man would react to anything, given he adopted you, came straight home in silence, and immediately flopped onto his bed and passed out.
✮ ⋆ ˚｡🐾⋆｡°✮
Over days dragging by like rain dripping down a tiled roof, you came to learn Jack- your new owner, you tried to adjust- was... actually pretty alright. He didn't try to take you back, or dump you at a friend's place, or throw you out to a box on the side of the road. Rather, he stayed, let you have the dim corner you frequented, and... adjusted to you? It threw you off guard. Usually, by now, an owner would try to lure you out with treats, or just annoyingly scuff you and drag you out of the corner. Surely the rocky growling your throat warned anytime he got close was annoying to him, right? Surely going out of his way to buy you specialized food, only for you to stare at it from your claimed safe-space was found as insensitive and rude? Surely, coming home late and tired and watching you dash back to your corner at the soun of the door opening was impolite?
And yet... Jack never seemed to show any such emotion. Just a careful, calculated gaze that made your tail flick and a quiet hum when he walked- as if to make himself known to wherever he was. To you. For you.
Slowly, slowly, you found hunger and thirst to be a more worrying anxiety than the expected fear of your owner even seeing you. So, dragging yourself out of the snug crook with tentative paws padding the hardwood floors, you made your way to the kitchen. Your tail, thick and matted with overgrowth and lack of care, brushed the floor as you walked, too loud for your liking despite it not truly making any sound. Then, hesitant and cautious as if it were stealing to take this food specifically laid out for you, your hand reached at the bowl, simply holding it a moment before setting it in your lap and sitting down. Watching it a beat, then two, as if waiting for... something. But nothing came. So you ate. Let the food settle you and for once stop worrying about the world spinning round in your head.
Click
The beat startled you, practically scattering the bowl in the way you jumped up, ears snapping up and looking towards the sound. Your mind fought on whether to stay put or dash away as you always did, seeing Jack leaning against the hallway and holding up a small, brown and grey object as if a peace offering. No, not a peace offering. A silent explanation. A clicker, you recognized from those ranting ads that guaranteed a well-behaved pup. It felt antagonizing, to a small part of you that wanted to fight and growl and maybe break something just to spite the small, simple toy. Yet, at the same time, it was kinda... nice. Acknowledging.
Not too long later, your corner became less of 'the only safe spot' and more of 'just a corner you could reach'. The gentle, reminding clicks grew to be more common as you explored and tested around the house, trying to be more okay with things rather than fighting any shadow or noise that came your way. You stayed sitting even when Jack came in the room? Click. You didn't bark or growl if he got closer? Click. You responded with a simple 'mhm' or shake of your head? Click.
Smaller things developed to more interactions and paired clicks developed to more praises and finding your tail flick with some stupid fluttery feeling.
Jack turned out to be the type who ruffles your hair anytime he happens to pass by. The first time he did so without thinking too much, making you flinch, both of you pausing and staring with momentary uncertainy, before you scooted your head back towards his touch, nudging his palm like a tentative offer. That got you more than a click, and something much more enjoyable. Your owner paused, messy silver curls grazing his face before eyes shining with half-hidden relief and pride, murmuring a soft 'good boy,' and scratching at the tufts of your ears.
Another time, you found yourself padding silently into Jack's room, peering in with your tail curved around your leg as you tried to figure out what the quiet, crackled hissing was. You were met with the sight of your owner, slightly leaning in on himself with a tight expression, just... sitting there, a radio clicked on and sat on his bedside drawer. A quiet, meekly whine of worry for how you've found the war-worn doctor left you before you've decided that you could, should, or would. His eyes flickered up, your breath catching and pressing yourself tighter to the cool wood of the door. Jack softened, pausing a moment before turning a dial on the radio, the biting noise silencing with a partially-recognizable click. Oh. That means it can't be too bad, right?
Your owner looked back up at you, tapping the space besides him on the bed and a quiet, encouraging whistle. Your ears flicked down once. Then once more, considering. Then, again, padded, silenced footsteps made its way towards Jack, hesitating before climbing onto the obviously-expensive bed. The mattress was really nice, like those commercials often faming themselves for their 'cloud-like beds'. Turns out they weren't totally wrong.
The comfortability of the bed was soon forgotten in turn for your owner's hand slowly running through your hair. A muffled, repeated thumping you had grown to become familiar with began, your tail beating against the heavy blankets with pleasure and trust. Half-aware your mind processed murmured praises from the older man's lips, gently guiding you to lay down when he noticed you beginning to fall asleep. The last thing your mind brought up before drifting off was the odd but recognizable memory of just barely- what? A month or so now? Having been nipping and snapping at the same man who was now humming you to sleep.
Everyone HUSH. Magpie!Reader [AKA Magpie!Reader x Badger!Jack Abbot]
[CW~ does get smutty, age gap, sub!reader, use of 'kiddo' once or twice, overstimulation, dumbification, cumming inside, unsafe sex, author fell asleep near the end and could not decide on a perspective]
⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆⚚⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺
♡Magpie!Reader who transfers to the Pitt with a blank no-shit-taken face and a certain jingle jangle to their walk. Just pushing the limits of what HR can and cannot say about what they wear, layered necklaces tangled under their scrubs and studded piercings lining their ears.
☆Magpie!Reader with deep black and peeks of blue wings tucked into their shirt as the hybrid code requires, yet unable to hide away the feathered tail that brushes the floor. They end up growing a bit jumpy whenever they hear something or someone approaching, having had his feathers ran over or stepped on one too many times. Possibly even a few feathers missing.
♡Magpie!Reader who always has some sort of dried fruit or seed packet with them, glancing out of one of their pants pocket. With barely any time in the ER to even take a breather, they usually just shove a handful in their mouth inbetween patients. They've also gotten to learn little details about their coworkers- Mel likes almonds, but can't stand any added flavouring. Dennis says to keep it on the low but pumpkin and sunflower seeds remind him of back home. Trinity isn't much for nuts [heh] but appreciates dried cranberries. Langdon thinks any fruit dried is strange.
☆Magpie!Reader who ends up repeating short tunes he heard on the radio, or a certain pronunciation from a patient under his breath. They don't realize they're doing it until Robby asks him why he keeps muttering 'qualms' in different ways while drafting patient logs.
♡Magpie!Reader who steals little things from the hospital that are more or less than a bit unsanitary. A dime that caught the light the other day, a pen from Dana's cup, a scalpel discarded because it was dropped on the floor before it could be used. It all sits on a small shelf, collecting dusk amongst various other trinkets that may or may not be in need of more space.
☆Magpie!Reader who secretly always grieves a patient lost, no matter if it could be helped or not. There's a flower bush besides the wide doors of the Pitt, nabbing a flower everyday on their way in. A single petal is laid upon the patient, maybe in their hand or in a pocket or on their chest if they can get away with it. If, by the end of shifts hours, they still have some petals left, they try to count it as a good day. Not too many people lost, with the few-petalled flower, but it ends up only really reminding them of the lives they failed to save.
♡Magpie!Reader who, come mating season, is much more performative. To be fair, most hybrids of the ER end up a bit of a mess, but when he finds himself taking extra night shifts and feathers fluffing up at the simple, gruff praise of 'good job' from the attending? You'd have to be a fool to think no one notices.
☆Speaking of, Badger!Abbot who pretends not to notice. He's been an attending for quite some time now, and even before, he's known damn sure he's a fine catch. People flirt, hybrids get a bit looser during mating season, it happens. But this seeming to happen every year? Tsk. Really making him reconsider if the brushy magpie is seeking this as a one-time-thing, or something to settle down for. Do magpies mate for life?
♡Badger!Abbot who becomes stiffer when the bird hybrid approaches him, arms flexing over his already-taut shirt and eyeing him carefully. Magpie!Reader sees this as just the night attending being mildly defensive from his contant flirting, but gets mixed signals when the rigid man shuffles closer, acting as though he were just trying to get a better look at the patient board he was asking for help on.
☆Magpie!Reader who presents the night attending with something shiny every week or so without fail. Sometimes a bit straightforward and odd, considering their... 'professional' relationship. A pretty marble rock he said matched Jack's fur mattern, a pen the older man was sure used to be his. Other times Jack had to look a bit harder to notice, but he always did. A holographic sticker pressed to the side of his coffee order, a star-shaped paperclip that was too polished to just be hospital ordered.
♡Badger!Abbot who finds himself acting a tad too alike Robby with Whitaker; allowing himself to be touchier with his praise, careful, precise hands brushing against the magpie's waist to rush out of the way to an incoming trauma. Playfully brushing the other man's hair after he accidentally lands a joke he didn't even mean to let slide. Catching Magpie!Reader as he passes by, letting out a 'great job, kiddo,' and patting his back before quickly moving on.
☆Magpie!Reader who freezes at the feeling of the nightshift attending's hand firm against his tucked-in wings, just barely choking down a whine while his feathers fluff up, trying to process in the middle of a bloodied hallway.
♡Badger!Abbot who's talking to the younger doctor while transferring notes or something or the other, before pausing mid-sentence and muttering 'hold on.' Magpie!Reader stopping the clicking of their keys and moving to turn around in their seat before freezing once more, this time at the feeling of careful yet firm brushes against the black and blue feathers peeking out the top of his scrubs. As always, their skin prickles and feathers fluff, air tight and unmoving in their lungs until Jack pulls away, offering a half-assed 'sorry' and show of some blood on a towel that had caught on their prized wings.
☆Badger!Abbot who totally catches on to just how sensitive the younger man's poor wings are. And you think he's not gonna exploit that? Yeah, right.
♡Magpie!Reader who fumbles and flushes like a madman once it finally clicks that he's in Jack's bed. His nightshift attending's bed. His boss's bed. Kissing him, no less. The older man is shirtless, maintained muscles obvious alongside the soft expanse of stomach. Not to mention the brush of hair on his chest that trails down thicker into his pants. Which, by the way, have gotten tighter and holy shit your courting has actually gotten you somewhere.
☆Badger!Abbot who only smirks and teases at the other doctor's wandering eyes and useless lips, the magpie spilling excuses as if to get out of the situation but cutting himself off anytime Jack tries to drag his mouth away. He's always chased back into a desperate gasp of kisses, the pair only sinking further into the cool sheets of the bed.
♡Magpie!Reader who soon finds himself whining, pouty and almost convincingly sad eyes as Jack manhandles him oh-so-well. One hand keeping down the bird's wrists, the other gently fisting through the softer underfeathers of the man's wings. Jack practically coos at the way the man beneath him chokes and twitches, half-heartedly squirming at the new and highly-sensitive feeling.
☆Badger!Abbot who purrs and mumbles out praises and reassurances from inbetween the younger man's legs, licking slow, sloppy stripes up the magpie's throbbing length and kissing the tip. 'There we go, baby, that's it.' 'Doin' so well for me, pretty boy, such a perfect cock.' 'That good, sweetheart? Makin' a mess all over me?'
♡Badger!Abbot who absolutely loves oral. Reader has to tug roughly at his silver curls, now oversensitive and sobbing for him to please, just fuck him. Tip leaking and twitching with every breath, yet still hips rolling up and pleading for more from the older man.
☆Badger!Abbot who takes his sweet time getting the other boy sensitive and whiny and sloppy, grinning and cooing at how stupid Reader's gotten on just his mouth, what a sweet, precious boy he is for letting Abbot have more of him.
♡Badger!Abbot who hushes the bird hybrids half-hearted worries with a firm hands on his wings, assuring Reader he doesn't need to think right now, assuring he's gonna take care of his sweet boy. Assuring, as a thick finger pushes into the magpie's tight, clenching hole, that he doing just perfect. One finger turns to two, then three before Abbot decides the boy beneath him is ready, ass up and pillow tucked under Reader's stomach, hiccuping from how many times his poor dick has tipped over with cum that must be stained to the sheets by the time they're done.
☆Magpie!Reader who can barely even sob anymore, just breathy whines and gasps as he fists at the wrinkled sheets and buries his face in the pillows. He doesn't register when his mouth streams out a slurred 't-thank'y, thank y'sir,' as Abbots dick burns at his insides, yet also lays the most wonderful, warm pressure deep in his guts.
♡Badger!Abbot who doesn't take long to get comfortable inside the other doctor, groaning and adopting a rough pace after the first couple of tentative movements- slowly dragging his cock out, leaving just the tip in the tight, needy ring, before thrusting back into the warmth. Veins press against the gummy skin, loving the sight of the bird under him twitching and sobbing, yet still sucking him in like they needed it to survive.
☆Magpie!Reader who manages to choke out a desperate 'mgh- i-inside, inside- please, inside-' once asked where the older man should cum. It only takes a few more unstable bounces before Jack hilts his cock deep inside the poor, overstimulated boy. Thick, creamy warm ropes of cum squirt out and fill the whining magpie to the brim, shallowly thrusting his seed deeper into the gooey hole. Drips of white manage to escape, spilling out and trailing down Reader's thigh and joining the puddle of his own release.
♡Badger!Abbot who makes sure you get aftercare, and rightfully so. The younger doctor is asleep almost as soon as Jack pulls out, breath hiccuping but managing to even out. Reader's not moving an inch, not if he can help it, letting the bird hybrid rest and murmuring praises against his skin as he slowly cleans both of them up with a warm rag he's retrieved from the bathroom.
☆Badger!Abbot who climbs back into bed like he's preparing for a hundred year's rest, pulling the other man close and tucking him into his warm body. Jack finally rests when their legs are entangled, his hand sifting through the bird hybrids hair, and feeling his slowed breathing against his chest.
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-"
Summary ~ A humanoid alien seems to have crash-landed it's way onto Erid and, in a quick panic, they're passed off to Simon and Grace. Though, nothing can ever be easy in space, can it?
CW ~ none, reader is mute
A/N ~ Madly in love with everyone adding Reader inserts to Bloodymary as various space medias except. I've played and watched very little space. Taps my evil fingers together and grins nervously and deviously. Whoever understands the insert is getting a sloppy kiss from me.
Grace and Simon had been... well, not much had been happening. Simon caring for the plants that dared to grow in such a strange environment, slowly learning and getting used to living like this. Grace busying himself however he could; surrounding himself with his many, many schoolkids, doing his best to understand Eridian technologies and culture, just figuring out himself further as a person. Nothing big, though nothing small. Keeping their minds occupied and stimulated enough to just not go crazy and possibly try to eat the other. Well- maybe eat each other in some ways was acceptable.
Though a visit from Rocky was not uncommon, it was rather strange to hear a bunch of the Eridians- a 'landslide', Grace has tried to dub them- chirping and giving long, distressed melodies as they baraged closer. Grace quickly stumbled out of his house-lab atop the hill, skirting around to the mouth of a cave which separated the oxygen-encased enclosure and the rest of the planet. He wasn't sure what to expect from the jumble of sounds, the translations getting mixed from so many voices being interpreted on only one system. Something something 'human?' Something something 'not breathe' something 'quick quick'. Wonderful hints to go off of.
Whatever his mind was internally preparing for, Grace admittedly froze at the sight of... another person? Though, not passed out and injured as Simon [or him] had been when he arrived. Instead, they looked completely fine. In spite of the Eridian air and cluster of rock-aliens pushing them towards a film-like barrier as they approached the mouth of the cave. The stranger was surprised, but made no move to fight the high-pitched chirpings of the new creatures. Catching Grace's eye, you gave a single wave. As if this were normal.
What really intrigued Grace, though, was the fact you had on no helmet. Your skin wasn't burning up and you weren't choking to death or anything drastic, the Eridian air seemingly having no effect on you. He held back a step, always cautious of the ammonia, watching as the landslide panicked and shoved you through the film. You tripped at the rocks and the strange barrier against your body, the sudden change in temperature sending a slight chill down you.
At this point, Simon, too, had been intrigued by the commotion, watching the other man race his way to the cave's entrance while he himself leaned on the doorway of the greenhouse. His form remained rather still as a figure, a bit blurry in even in his good eye, stumbled through the mouth and Grace fluttered to steady them and try to quickly make sense of things. As he does.
"Hi! Hey- uh- wow," the man infront of you blinked a second, wide eyes running over you as if trying to figure you out. If you were real. If so, how? How- everything? "You- how were you breathing? The ammonia through the barrier should've been highly toxic, or-"
You took off your helmet, shaking out messy hair and only offering a small shrug in response. Grace cut off then, noticing your skin that was, infact, not skin.
"Oh- oh! Gosh, sorry, ah-" the scruffy man inhaled quietly, taking a second to assess the newcomer. Grace tried to bite back any ramblings and a bulldozer of questions, toning it back as he recalled how Simon had claimed it offputting when first meeting him.
You seemed humanoid, in terms of outer body, at least; two arms, two legs, a torso, a head. Eyes, mouth, ears, hair, even smaller details like faded cuts and light eye bags. Though, upon closer look, you didn't seem to have skin. It looked like stitchings, similar to the fox cardigan he wore. The back of Grace's mind scoffed at even the idea, though he knew at this point, maybe he should accept not everything was totally scientific. Especially in space. He had befriended and communicated with one alien species through math, though, so he still held onto the idea.
You wore a spacesuit, scattered with stickers and hand-drawn doodles that seemed unprofessional in some way. The helmet now rested against your hip, watching him with half-amused eyes as if you had all the time in the stars for him to keep ranting.
Okay. So. You weren't talking. More like waiting for the overexcitable stranger infront of you to keep going. That didn't reassure Grace at all, though a small part of him was relieved you didn't appear opposed or nervous or defensive over all his questions. Quite the opposite, really.
A silence scatters before you two, as if slowly weaving a string in the air. Then, taut and cut, Grace started upon a firm hand on his shoulder.
"Ah-! Don't- gosh, Simon, don't do that to me," the blonde gasped quietly, though quickly settled. It wasn't totally wild to think he did this a lot.
"Wow," was all the new person said- Simon, if you had heard right. Your eyes flickered at the rather neutral tone, unsure on how to take it, though offering by a small wave to him as well.
The new man let it be at that until Grace elbowed him, giving a bit-back 'ow' before realizing you shouldn't just say 'wow' to a stranger and go silent. "Sorry. 'S just been... a long time since we saw someone new. And you're..." he gestured vaguely to your overall appearance. 'Not like us.' He meant to say.
You shifted a bit on your feet, feeling the cool, slow breeze of an ocean unfamiliar to you. Of course, it had come out odd, but it's not like you were unaware of the difference between your stitches and their... well. Okay, maybe you didn't know exactly what they were, but it was different. Still, you'd never met others within the many planets which you traveled that would seem almost offput by such a thing. Then again, you were rather far out...
Regardless, your demeanor did not change. Only giving a one-sided shrug and lazily dragging a foot across the sand. Wow. It's been a hot moment since you've felt sand.
The silence tugged it's way up and out of Grace's throat, taking it back in a breath that paced alike the artificial ocean that filled the air and background. It seemed to skip a beat between the three of you as they came to the inevitable conclusion you either would not or could not talk. The science teacher didn't let himself linger on this, though, clasping his hands together and rocking back on his heels. If just an excuse to move.
"Right. So... how'd you get here? You definitely didn't seem impacted by the ammonia, either- are you used to this type of atmosphere?" Grace questioned aloud, not knowing what to expect in response. The helmet now rested against your hip, watching him with half-amused eyes as if you had all the time in the stars for him to keep ranting.
You lightly tapped the helm against your hip, thinking of how to get it across. People didn't usually question your origins. Just set you on quests and introduced you to tools and items and the concept of negativity [again]. Then, to likely no one's surprise, you used your free hand to mimic a small explosion, before pointing down to the sandy floors.
The two creatures before you stood in a shared, processing silence. Grace was faintly reminded of the first few times he tried to communicate with Rocky. It was almost humbling, to him, how aliens seemed to continuously love their puppet shows.
"You... crash landed?" The blonde voiced, dragging the vowels as if it would cushion the possibility of him being wrong. Simon threw the other man a wordless, 'how'd you get that?' look, though dropped it when you nodded. His eyes squinted further at you, trying to read the apparently oh-so-easy messages you sent via hand motions.
Grace nodded quickly, already getting used to such a methods of speaking. He glanced back to the cave mouth in which you were pushed through. A few Eridians had stayed out of curiosity, whispered melodies floating between the rock-aliens. Majority of the landslide, though, had dissipated and left to do... whatever they did out there.
"Soo..." the blonde dragged a moment, moving his eyes back to yours. Admittedly, trying hard to not let them drift and continue to figure out what exactly you were. "I'm guessing you need help repairing your ship? We- me and Simon, I mean- can't leave this beach, but seeing as you didn't immediately die in the previous setting, I'm sure the Eridians would be willing to help."
A polite offer, yet you lightly grimaced. Ah, here comes the hard part. How are you to explain your ship is actually made of nothing but cardboard and creativity? You yourself weren't even sure how to repair something like that. The thought had never even occurred to you! How odd it must be, traveling the galaxies in such a fallible material. You felt a twinge of doubt that settled in your gut like a weighted plush. How had that ever even worked? How would you get it working again?
Realizing you were thinking too hard, resulting in a less-than-promising silence between the three of you, you gave an apologetic smile. With no other way to explain it yet, you just gave a tilty, iffy motion, though a look on your face that leaned more towards 'ehh...'.
male puppy reader being a scent goblin with jack abbot’s sweaty swat uniform. send tweet
Let Me Have This
Pairing ~ Jack Abbot x Male!Puppy!Reader
Summary ~ Your boyfriend comes homes late 😿 but he's sweaty🤤
CW ~ mild sweat kink except author is scared to be a true freak,
A/N ~ So sorry for my absence y'all I got soooo sick . Should I finish requests first or do the 100 followers celebration
・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・
Living with Jack Abbot wasn't always the most comforting thing. Yeah, he was stable, both emotionally and financially. He doted on you almost constantly when he was home, bordering on making you prissy with how much you've been spoiled. He was- stars above, he was really fine.
But anytime Abbot left the house, anxiety crawled back in your stomach to wrap and squeeze at your gut. 'Balancing' life with being an ex-military man, a nightshift attending at the ER, volunteering his time as a SWAT medic, and probably other adrenaline-rushing activities, he was never actually alright. Just getting by, in that certain way he breezes through but still fights his moral questioning everyday, you had to worry about him! What if your owner didn't come back? What if he took to hiding a wound because he can 'handle himself'? What if he went to the ER and never came back? What if something happened to him, and no one bothered to tell you?
So every night, every evening close dawn, Dr. Jack Abbot left the wide-spaced apartment with a soft click, locked tightly in hopes of your safety. And you waited. You worried and waited and sat on the large, comfy bed, mulled over a pile of his dirty clothes, anything that held his scent a bit longer for you to bury yourself into- and waited.
Waiting, as it turns out, was not a good coping mechanism for nerves and unease. Quite the opposite, surprise, surprise. The melancholic buzzes of crickets and the occasional owl outside filled your headspace. As much as you could let it, of course. Moreso, your mind was drilled into the never-ending list of 'what if?'s.
There were perks, sometimes. You ackowledged this upon hearing the telltale shuffle through the door, slightly mechanical, slightly muffled, slightly controlled, all Abbot. There were perks, sometimes. Like when he came home, fighting for the rest of his breath and finally allowing his heartrate to slow to a relatively normal pace. When he came home, and you immediately leaped up from the bed or couch or wherever you were, barging into the silver fox and being soothed the early morning reminder you wished would never stop coming. 'He's here. He's safe. He's alive.' That, plus the tail-wagging factor when Abbot came home from particularly challenging jobs, or just a run. 'And he's drenched.'
Could anyone blame you? Call it a sweat kink, but there was something about a pretty old man coming home, tired and finally admitting sleep was a good thing, and sweating down to possibly stain his shirts. It's happened before, not that you mind. If anything, it just made it easier for you to be eased asleep while he was gone.
You practically jump into Jack's chest the moment the door closes behind him, tail patting loudly against the floor as you pepper his face with greeting kisses. You don't spend much time there, though, too enticed by the darker stains of his layered clothing that gather at his muscles. The SWAT uniform is stretched taut on Abbot's body, enunciating the effort spent keeping his form built and muscled, yet soft expanses gracing other spots of his body.
You don't register how long you linger there, stuffing your face inbetween folds of the sweaty camo clothes while the older man simply accepts his fate.
"Hon," he finally breaks, lightly shoving your face away though to no avail with your stubbornness. "C'mon, I gotta shower. This is unsanitary."
"This is safety," you correct, heavy tail patting the ground with a quieted swishing sound.
Jack's voice rumbles with amusement, giving up on trying to disconnect you from your strange enjoyments. Though deciding that, one way or another, he was gonna get that shower. "Am I only safe when I sweat through my clothes?" He teases, picking you up without so much as a huff, your legs wrapping around his waist as he makes his way to the bathroom.
"That's besides the point," you dismiss, ears flicking lightheartedly and tail now just hanging by the air. "The point is you smell safe. Like, more so now. It's nice."
You groan dramatically when Jack successfully makes it to the bathroom and sits you down on the cold counters, watching as he starts to warm the water and sits down to strip.
"At least give me the clothes," you grumble, shifting down to help take off his prosthetic. He's tired, and you feel abit bad about bugging him like this, but you've missed him all day! Who can blame you?
Jack ruffles the fluff of your ears as his prosthetic clicks off and you put it to the side, giving a tired sound between a chuckle and a try. "I need these clothes washed so I can use'em tomorrow, sweetheart," he repeats as he has time and time again. As if you don't steal the clothes anyways and throw them on your bed. If he can't find his uniform, he can't go on his dangerous missions. Plus, his scent lingers longer. It's a win-win.
"You gonna join me?" The nightshift doctor offers, shifting himself over to the shower chair. The mirror is already starting to brim with fog from the steam. Technically, it probably isn't healthy for him or something or the other. But you're both suckers for eveloping warm water.
You stick your tongue out at him, tail flicking at the thought of joining Jack in the shower. Not that he was the issue. "I am not getting my fur wet. Nope, you come home late, you see me late," you taunt, a bit of stubborn pride shining through your silly 'punishment'. "Actually, I'm taking these clothes. You're never gonna see'em again."
"Hon, I-"
But you've already shut the bathroom door behind you, running off with the handful of sweaty clothes.
HIII!! i’m the anon who asked for the abbot clicker training fic 🥹 first of all, thank you SM for doing my req!! it got me giggling n kicking my feet >_< i yearn for him… so bad…
second, i was wondering if u’re perhaps open to making a continuation, or another fic? mayyybe smth romantic this round! :3
Pairing ~ Jack Abbot x Male!Puppy!Reader
Summary ~ NAP TIME because im TIRED.
CW ~ puppy reader duh, Jack is kiiinda like an owner ig?, implied reader stays at home most days,
A/N ~ Sorry this both took long and is way short!🫠 hell week[s] during rehearsal and I haven't had a ton of time to write, but I super duper absolutely ubertooty love love love getting requests from y'all!!! Thank you for requesting and thank you for reading!!!!!!!!!!!
The door shut with a soft echo throughout the organized flat that was slowly gaining more of a mess. The nightshift attending rubbed at his half-awake eyes, thankful his puppy liked the place dim and cool most days. He didn't have to search out for you, either, giving a small 'oof' he could never prepare for when you zipped into his chest for a welcome back kiss, tail swaying happily. Jack hummed into it sleepily, though soon pulling away once he noticed the moist trace down your cheeks.
"Hey, hey, what's wrong, sweetheart? I wasn't gone that long, was I?" Abbot tried to joke softly, though tone still careful while he wiped away the tears that escaped your watery eyes.
You tilted into the cupped touch, warm and rough in contrast of your own skin. "Nothin'..." Your tail flicked between your legs, knowing it was silly to be getting emotional over such a thing. But you couldn't help it! You were an emotional puppy. "Jus' finally finished that show.."
"Ah," your owner sighed, posture and eyes easing knowing you weren't harmed or hurt in any way. He ruffled the hair between your ears, smiling at the way you quickly perked up at it. "The show with eleven seasons and fifty minute episodes?"
"Mhm," you pouted, pushing your body weight onto him as if you were still mourning the show's end. Yet your body spoke otherwise, a blank, happy look glazing over your eyes and tail swishing on the floor happily.
Abbot picked you up in a fireman's carry with ease, already leading to your shared bedroom with no more than a quiet hum.
"W-whaaaatt are you doing??" You fumbled, thrown out of your half-serious mourning but making no move to squirm out of his hold.
"I'm tired-" the night doctor hums, already turning to open the door regardless of you in his arms. "You definitely need a nap. And you can tell me alllll about your show," Jack playfully releases you onto the messied cushioning, sheets undone with your boredom and lazing around the day. "In bed."
*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆⭒˚.⋆🔭
"No, no, I'm tellin' you, their death was really sad!"
"Sounds kinds unrealistic, sweetheart."
"Well, probably, yeah, but- the whole show's pretty unrealistic if you're thinking about it like that."
"I think you need'a nap, pup."
Your tail swished indignantly, even if the excitement of your yapping and waiting around for Jack to come home was finally seeming to set in on the hours. "I do not! I'm doing quite well, thanks."
Jack chuckled, gravely with his doubleshift. He lightly pushed off the plush of fur that was repeatedly tapping against his chest. "You've yawned at least eight times during your story," he pointed out.
You continue to huff and puff, denying any sense of being tired despite your ears lazily tilting down and Jack's continuous, slow ruffles through the fur of your tail being nothing short of mind-numbing. Of course he notices the affect it has on you, ever-so-subtly pulling you down to lay on your chest and pressing a kiss to your forehead.
"We need'a go back to clicker training, pup?" The silver fox teased, only for your snapped-up reaction of a quick 'no!'. Jack grinned at the reaction, shifting as the worn pillow sunk beneath the weight of the both of you.
"'S what I thought. Now get some rest, prettyboy."
Imagine getting wasted at the Breaker Box and Eddie's partially relieved you seem to be slowing down. Yet you still seem to be bubbly. Bubbly and tired, talking to anyone close enough about anything and everything. Talking with Barry about your current favourite birds. Chatting with Dante and how the best relationships are friends first [can you tell im demiromantic too].
The real issue comes when Johnny Splash saunters up, trying to remain cool despite being tipsy as you begin trading flirts. 'Sweetheart' and 'doll' and 'pretty thing' being thrown across as easy as the prediction of summer warmth. Eddie's watching out of the corner of his eye, of course. He doesn't not trust Johnny, per say, but... seeing you flirt with him of all people is a bit eyebrow raising to him.
Then, in an attempt to one-up your flirts, Johnny offers to sing a ballad just for you [as if he doesn't most nights]. Of course, you can't let him get away that! So you offer to perform a duet, instead.
As one would expect, Eddie is groaning internally, but can't really stop your stubborn, excitable self. He can only watch as you, drunk and giggly, and Johnny, tripping on his own shower curtain and playing it off as 'fallin' for you again, sweetheart'. Volt is watching from some corner of the bar, making polite conversation that gets put on a pause while the two of you find your way onstage. He bites back a snicker, though doesn't stop you.
It doesn't matter what you sing, really. Johnny would go along with most anything for you, and the idea of singing with you has him higher than any drink Eddie could serve. Maybe something classic, like 'Baby, It's Cold Outside,' or something more goofy, like 'Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better.' Regardless of what you two sing, the people of the bar learn two things that day; Johnny Splash is not a better singer while drunk, and you are secretly a great singer.
When you wake up, head pounding and already wishing to be back asleep, it admittedly takes you a good minute to figure out you're not in your own bed. Scrambling up- which does nothing to help your current hangover- you look around for another person, maybe, or some clue of where you are. Did you drunkly fuck someone? Did you use protection? Are you pregnant?? Oh, wait, you can't do that anymore-
The familiar greeting of a vaguely British 'Livewire!' makes you jolt, though you quickly settle seeing it's just Volt [obviously]. He comes in with an untrustably subtle smile and a small tray containing some Ibuprofen, a prettied-up glass of water, and something small to eat.
Rather than thanking him for the prince treatment- even if it does make you warm at the thought- you give him an overdramatic squint. "...what's that smile for..?"
Just the same as how he finds it hard to say no to you, Volt caves almost instantly and gives a polite version of the previous night's events.
You're flabbergasted when he recounts how, not only did you drunkenly go up to sing karaoke with Johnny Splash, but the two of you had to be shoved off stage and told to go home. Only then, when the bar was shutting down, did your bubbly and excitable stage of alcohol fade and you began stifling tears. Cracked voice and broken, ugly sobs as you blubbered out how much you loved your boys and you were sorry for getting to be a mess while they were working. When Volt and Eddie tried to ease you, you just ended up sniveling more because they were being so sweet to you and it was so late and you were bugging them and they shiuld probably sleep and you'll totally be fine getting just across the hall to your own room and-
