Jack Abbot x f!resident reader
Summary: F!reader is an R2 in the Pitt, and is usually on morning shift with Dr Robby but Dr Abbot's on morning shift today, and you can't stand how he belittles you and calls you out on your attitude.
Things take a turn for the worst when a patient grabs you and you lash out at everyone around you. Jack thinks he can calm you down, but when he's faced with mouthy you? He thinks he'll have to just put you in your place.
Warnings: age gap, (reader in mid 20s, Jack is 50), non consensual groping (by a patient), the Pitt is a warning in itself icl, medical jargon?, lacerations, blood?, kinda dub con? multiple orgasms, dom!Jack abbot, vaginal fingering, brat taming, spanking, dry humping, coming in pants, ok! think that's it...
Thinking about brat tamer! Jack....
You were in a bad mood that morning as it was, and you could tell Abbot could tell that you were in a shitty mood.
Didn't stop him from barking orders at you across the Pitt like a fucking drill sergeant though.
All morning, the two of you clashed heads over the smallest things, yourself finding it hard to work with him considering you're usually on the morning shift and him being the night shift attending.
It was his fault, more than yours, assigning you to scut work and the morning care home elderly patients that no one else wanted to deal with. You'd had it up to here with him, and that smug fucking smile when he'd see that break in your expression at being belittled in the presence of her colleagues.
You weren't even supposed to cross paths with him at all today!
But, alas, Robby had to take a day off the one day you'd woken up teeling like shit.
And the day only got worse as it closed to an end.
It started off when a drunk crawled in to the Pitt with a thin laceration on his forehead. Blood still pouring out of it, but it was a simple case.
Really, it should've been assigned to an intern, or at least an R1, not you considering you're an R2 and well fucking sure you can take a better case than this, but Dr Abbot loves seeing the poorly masked anger on your scrunched up face.
And you're not allowed to cherry pick cases anymore thanks to Santos.
"Pop him into central 3 and get it done, yeah? You can do that much for me, can't you, Doctor?" The corner of his lips jolt upwards just a fraction, the smirk he's holding back mocking you as he tilts his head to look you in the eye.
Fucking, fucking bastard.
"Yeah, sure, Doctor Abbot. Fucking asshole." You hiss the last bit under your breath as you turn to direct Donnie helping the delirious guy into the room.
Little did you know that he heard you.
'Such a brat,' Jack thinks, shaking his head to pull the image of your pert ass in those scrubs out of his mind.
What he'd do to pull you over his knee and mark up that pretty ass of yours.
“..right Mr Keele, just make sure to keep the bandages dry, and we'll see you again when you need to remove the stitches. Donnie over here'll give you all the instructions for aftercare, and just come back if you feel any dizziness or nausea. We'll keep you for another hour to get the alcohol out of your system, and then you can head home, ok?"
You go over the protocol, one hand coming up to rub at the side of your head where you feel the beginning of a headache form.
"Uh-huh, and what do I gotta do to get your number, pretty?" The patient, Mr Keele, slurs at you, words barely comprehensible in his intoxicated state.
He leers at you, as if just noticing your female anatomy.
You plaster your lips into a thin smile, an expression of annoyance flashing across your features before you school it into something semi professional.
‘Not fucking today, man.’
"You're clearly getting better already, so I'll take my leave now-" you say as you get up from the stool, ready to leave, but his hand reaches out to grab your wrist in a firmer grip than you'd expected.
His hand wraps around your wrist and tugs you closer into him, his hot breath making you want to gag as you smell the bourbon on his tongue.
"Not so fast, babygirl. I asked you for your number, all polite 'nd everything. You gonna just ignore me like that?"
"I'm not interested, thanks. So, please, let go of me, now."
Unease rises within your chest as you tug your hand away from him, and with a burst of strength you wrench it out of his hand and hold it with your other hand, rubbing at the sensitive skin there.
"Hey! Sir, that's not allowed here. You pull something like that, I'm gonna have to call security," Donnie hovers behind you, one arm out in front of Mr Keele.
He gives you a quick look, as if to ask you if you're ok, and you nod, still holding your wrist to yourself.
"Go, I'll take care of it."
"No." You feel the burst of frustration rise in your chest, accompanied with anger, with disgust.
"No, let me explain to Mr Keele," you spit out his name, frustration obvious in your tone, “over here, how to take 'no' for an answer.”
You tilt your head, condescendingly from where you stand above him.
Donnie says your name, before moving aside to usher you out. "Forget about it, ok? Just go, and I'll finish up or I'll get Dr Abbot if I need to."
You exhale in frustration, meeting the nurses' eye and letting up, ready to leave and finally go home.
With your back to the drunk asshole, you don't see his sneer, or his hand moving to attack you.
"Such a fucking bitch, actin too good for me? I outta fuck that outta you, slut." You don't notice his hand reaching up behind you, grabbing your ass and squeezing, digging his blunt nails in and surely leaving bruises in his grip as he tugs you.
The gasp that leaves you is of shock, and your brain takes a moment to catch up with what just happened.
"You fucking piece of shit!" You blurt out, one hand raised to hit him before Donnie grabs hold of both your arms and hauls your ass out of there before you can hit the patient.
Donnie calls your name, and you don't even register the angry tear that trails down your cheek.
"Hey, Ahmad! Can we get someone to get that guy outta here? He assaulted one of ours."
Dana comes around the edge of the counter, hands out in front of you, and scanning you for any injuries as you try to push past Donnie.
"What's going on?" Dana asks.
"What the fuck? No! No, fuck security, let me at that motherfucker, I’ll show him what this ass can do! Fucker piece of shit!"
"Hey now, none of that is going to happen, alright?
You're gonna take a seat here and not make any stupid decisions." Dana makes to grab at your hand, but you pull away and push against the bodies that block you.
Your demanding voice travel over across the floor, and alerts Abbot, who rapidly makes his way to you at the sound of your shouts.
He takes one look at your scrunched up face, and arms that push at whoever stands in front of you, and knows you need to go.
His hand wrapping around your bicep, not unlike the drunk in central 3, you think, but with a care and precision a man of his bulk and size, you wouldn't have expected to have.
He maneuvers you, both of your arms trapped under his thicker, bigger arms, pulling you towards an unoccupied room.
"Hey! Dr - stop it! Let - go, Doctor Abbot, go away." You struggle against him and he responds by pulling you closer, into his muscled, thick chest.
He grunts as your elbow snags him in his side, and he pulls you into the room, locking the door and shutting the blinds.
His tone is sharp, leaving no space for argument, and the fight dwindles out of you as soon as it came.
"You need a timeout, and need to check you over, so you gotta tell me what happened out there, ok?"
He stands against the door, brow furrowed and scanning you over, probably looking for any major injuries how a major would check a soldier.
"Oh fuck you, as if you give a shit. Stop with this act of yours and let me out," you spit out, trying to make your voice tougher than it feels as tears threaten to escape your eyes.
'God, this is so humiliating as it is, and now he wants to- what, rub it in?'
"I understand you're frustrated right now -"
"Frustrated is the least of my fucking emotions right now, Dr Abbot."
At your interruption of him, you notice something crossing his expression.
Something quiet and certain.
His eyes turn hard, looking you directly in your own, maintaining an eye contact that has you feeling smaller in his presence. He stands taller now, straight-backed and sure of himself.
You breathe hard, trying and failing to ground yourself, and the silence between you is deafening, only accentuating the sound of you breathing.
You shrink into yourself when he takes a step forward, then another, then another. Till he's pressed you against the hospital bed in the middle of the room.
"Sit down." His voice is cold, and steady. Directive, as if its second nature to him.
He crowds into you, one steady, large hand at your shoulder, guiding you into obeying him.
You sit on the edge of the bed, eyes flickering downwards at the intensity of his stare, and how disappointed?- he looks at you.
"You will not interrupt me. You're going to listen to me now, understood? Nod if you understand." His tone is still that cold commanding tone, but it holds a lilt of condescension in it now.
As if he's talking to a child.
Your nostrils flare at the realization and you flash your gaze back to his to glare at him.
He simply says your name in warning, and when you notice the clench of his jaw, you break away, and nod at him.
"Good girl. Now, what I need you to do, is tell me exactly what happened. Think you can do that for me, Doctor?" he taunts you.
"Or are you planning another tantrum, hm?"
He mocks you, nodding at you once and raising one silver eyebrow, the hand that rested on your shoulder lifting to rub at the grey stubble on his chin, the wedding band there catching the overhead light.
You stay silent, shooting glares his way before ignoring him as best you can, looking at the door that hed locked, instead of at him.
"Seriously? Jesus Christ, sweetheart."
You respond by crossing your arms, and it's petulant and childish, maybe. But you have a point to prove and you're nothing if not stubborn.
He huffs a laugh of disbelief, hand rubbing at the lines that crease at his forehead when he frowns. He mirrors your body expression, crossing his thick arms.
Your eyes can't help but follow the bulge of veins that peak through his muscled arms, how it presses against his hard pane of chest.
‘Fuck, he’s so big,’ You can't help the filthy thoughts that flood your mind, thoughts of him wrapping that thick arm around you, holding you down as he rocks deep inside of -
‘No. No! Stop thinking about this!'
You try and fail to repress the throb in your clit, that leads you to press your thighs against each other subconsciously.
He follows the trace of your focus, and something dark, hungry, fills his irises.
‘Is this what you want, sweetheart? You wanna be treated like a fuckin petulant brat? I'll give you that?’
Jack clears his throat, failing to restrain the sick and twisted excitement in his expression. Your eyes still cast towards anywhere but him, pause to meet his own gaze.
"Do you want me to touch you?"
You let out a weak "huh?", wondering if you've heard him correctly.
"Since you don't feel like talking, I'll do the talking for you. Too much for your pretty little head, isn't it?" He remarks sarcastically.
He nods once to himself, affirming his own words.
The top of his thighs press against your knees as he crowds into you, stepping closer into your space till you have to tilt your head up completely to look at him from this height.
"So, can I touch you? I think you need something to set that head of yours straight, yeah? Something to get rid of that attitude in you, is that ok?"
"Wha- I... Doctor Abbot is this, is this some sort of-of joke?" You try to play off your tone as incredulous, play it off like it doesn't mean anything to you, doesn't do something to you.
"Do I look like I'm joking, sweetheart? Gimme a yes or a no. I don't like to be kept waiting."
Your breaths draw faster, and longer with each inhale.
You're not sure there's enough oxygen in the room, with how warm you feel, how tense.
He waits patiently, more patient than you'd expected from him, and God, it turns you on even more.
You know that the friction you feel in your panties is surely the slick from how wet you are, simply from a conversation with him and the feel of his gaze penetrating you.
You nod, dumbly, stupidly.
Slow, as though you're underwater.
He raises an eyebrow at you.
"I'm gonna need to hear you say it, can you do that for me pretty?"
"What do you mean, yes what?"
"Use your head, you're a smart girl, aren't ya? And pretty mouthy too."
"Oh, fuck you Abbot. Just touch me or let me go, I don't have time for your bullshit."
You huff at him, pushing at his chest in front of you and finding it immovable. You push with all your might and he doesn't move an inch. You whine out your annoyance.
"Hey, what did I say about that fucking attitude, hm?"
He cocks his head at you, and pauses for a brief second.
With a whispered, "fuck it," he pulls you into him, trading places with you and pulling you body-first into his knee.
He jostles you, moving and maneuvering you around to get you pliable for him, while you shriek in surprise at the speed of his movements.
"Hey, what the fuck- Abbot, stop it- Jack!"
Your voice muffles as he shoves his palm over your mouth, silencing you.
"Since the day you walked in through those doors, I knew exactly what you were. I know what you need. So, I need you to be good for me. Now I know that's gonna be hard for you, but good girls get rewarded, understand? You want me to touch you? Then you're gonna take what I give you, alright sweetheart?"
He strokes your scrub-covered back, from the top of your spine to the back of your thighs, moving tantalizingly slow over the curve of your ass.
You perk up as his hand rubs over the flesh, grinding unknowingly into his palm for relief.
"Mh-hmph," you huff from beneath his palm.
You feel the bottoms of your scrubs pull over the curve of your ass, revealing your bare ass to him.
"No panties? Who woulda thought we had such a dirty girl working here."
Your cheeks flush with embarrassment, red crawling up your neck, but you've never been more turned on in your life.
You're sure that if he spreads your cheeks open now, he'd spot the trail of slick that's seeped into your backside, gleaming in between your thighs.
"We're gonna start at 5, and you're going to thank me after each one. A ‘thank you, Doctor Abbot' will do for now. Nod if you can do that."
You nod under his palm, unable to hold back the pitiful whine that leaves you.
His palm rubs over the supple flesh of the globes of your ass, admiring the untainted skin there, the recoil it makes when he presses a finger into the soft flesh.
The first comes out of nowhere, a harsh strike that stings and has you shriek into his palm. He pulls his palm away from your mouth, waiting for you to follow his command.
You pant, gulping greedily at the air and try to reel your head around what you're doing right now.
You don't say a word, still in half shock, and it both turns Jack on, and annoys him.
He strikes at the same area again, harder this time somehow.
You mewl at the sharp sting of pain, and he pauses, waiting for you to remember his instructions.
"Ah-oh God, thank you, Dr Abbot."
Your voice is pitiful, high pitched and breathy, straight out of something in one of those crappy porn movies you'd watch with your vibrator pressed to your clit in the comfort of your apartment.
"There we go, that wasn't so hard now, was it?"
He doesn't wait for you to respond, sending another strike to the other side of your ass now, making sure to not leave any part untouched.
He watches as the globe turns red, and in quick succession, strikes again, and again at the tender flesh, watching with rapt attention as it jiggles.
His cock strains uncomfortably against his boxers, and he groans when you buck into him, your stomach brushing against his erection after a particularly hard blow.
You gasp out your thanks to him, pleasing him to no end as you squirm in his grasp, taking what he gives you so pliantly.
At the last strike, he surprises you, dipping his two fingers into the apex of your thighs and dragging them through your wet folds.
You mewl, the sound wet and guttural as he drags his fingers over the bundle of nerves there, rubbing once, twice in a circle over it.
Your back arches to meet his fingers harder, and he pulls them off your puffy drenched lips, abruptly picking up your limp form and placing you in his lap, face front, straddling your legs around him and pressing you firmly against his hard length.
You gasp, head falling into the crook of his neck and breathing hard.
You jolt when the tip of his cock under his scrubs rub just right against your clit, and experimentally lift up your hips to rub at it again, the second time forcing a moan out of you.
He grips your hips, pausing your movements and smirking at the whine you release, hips bucking to no avail as his grip on you tightens to almost painful.
"Jack. Call me by my name, baby,” he breathes into your ear, not unaffected by this either.
His name has barely left your lips when he plops you onto his erection, grinding you down onto him, and smearing your slickness all over his scrubs, but neither of you seem to care.
His grip on you is tight, no space for you to move but that doesn't matter, not with how he's moving you atop of him.
Your gasps and moans fill the room, breathy and high pitched, and hot, as you breathe into his neck.
You dart your tongue out of your mouth, swiping one long lick into his throat, and tilting your head to bite at the meaty juncture.
You half smile at the groan that escapes him, deep and gravelly, but he takes the upper ground by grinding into you harder, more fervent as he chases his release.
"Fuck. You feel so good, so wet for me."
"Jack. Harder, please I wanna -uhh- I wanna cum, please, please."
"Yeah? You wanna cum for me, sweetheart?" His hand traces into your scalp, tugging lightly at the hair there, pulling your head out of his neck before crashing your lips together.
The kiss is messy, all teeth and tongue, and fervent need. He licks into your mouth, pulling every sound you make and swallowing it whole. His teeth bare down on your bottom lip, nipping at it and soothing it with his wet tongue.
You feel the rise of an orgasm build up in you, slowly climbing to its peak and drawing breathy mewls and high pitched whines out of you.
He tugs you down closer to him, rubbing his tip against your entrance, and then grinding it back into your bundle of nerves, the wet sounds of your pussy lewd in the otherwise silent room.
"Jack, 'm gonna-hmm- I'm gonna-"
"Come for me sweet girl, that's it let go-fuck-" He groans as he cums, deep and gravelly, and drawn out. Warm ropes of his seed hitting the inside of his boxers and dampening the fabric at his crotch.
His cock pulses against yours, triggering your own orgasm, your legs wrapping around him tighter as you tremble in his grasp.
He rides out his orgasm, still thrusting through your folds from the confines of his pants, and you moan and press at his chest in overstimulation, spent and a mess of uncoordinated limbs.
He presses his head into your chest, just above your breasts, nosing into the valley of your breasts and pressing his cheek against where your heart beats.
He pulls away to look at you in the face, where you pant, still trying to catch your breath after perhaps the strongest orgasm of your life.
He kisses you again, softly, this time. Caressing the line of your throat and cradling your jaw, as his tongue swipes at your bottom lip, before traveling down your neck to pepper kisses into your neck.
Distracted by his lips, you don't notice his other hand reaching under you and plunging two fingers deep inside of you, scissoring and stretching your tight cunt.
His lips curl into a half smirk at your expression, thrusting into you at a slow and languid pace that drives you insane.
"It's too much, Jack. I c-ah- I can't."
"You can give me one more, can't you pretty girl?"
You open your mouth to tell him "no", but the words are lost on your tongue, your back arching and hips lowering to meet his fingers stretching you apart.
The wet squelch of your pussy sounds in the room, and he moans at the feel of the wetness that seeps out of your weeping pussy.
You cum again, abruptly and without warning, your body spasming as it crashes over you in waves.
You cry out against his shoulder, biting down quickly to suppress the shout that wants to break free from you.
"No more Jack, no more, I can't." You plead, breathless.
He slows his movements inside of you, pulling out of you gently and dragging his fingers through your slit one last time to collect the slick there, before lifting it to his mouth, sucking them into his mouth and groaning at the taste of you.
"You taste so fuckin good, such a good girl for me, see how good it can be when you listen?"
He chuckles, the sound vibrating through your chest too, and you nod submissively against the crook of his neck.
A knock on the door startles the both of you, the sound coming from behind it.
Dana's voice travels through the locked door, a tad worried and confused.
"You guys ok back there? Need anything?"
"Shit!" You whisper-shout, scrambling off of his thick frame on unsteady legs.
"Easy, easy." He whispers back at you, humor evident in his expression as he takes you in, wrecked hair and slick covered thighs.
"Yeah, Dana we're all good in here. Just checking her for injuries. We'll be out in a second." He calls out, loud enough for Dana to hear him.
"Alright, let me know if you need anything." Dana calls from behind the door, the sound of footsteps following her words, signaling her leaving.
The two of you are silent for a breath, the sound of fabric brushing against skin as you pull your pants back over your shaky legs.
"You need a ride home?" Jack asks casually, as if he didn't just mark up your ass all pink and red, as if this were something normal for an attending to ask their resident.
You've already come so far.
You've come twice, to be precise.
"Take me home with you, Jack."
"Ah," He tuts, "what's the magic word?" He tilts his head expectantly, and you roll your eyes before answering him.
