Do you think anybody has ever had a doctor care for them that much?

"You're bored. Anxious. Nights lifelessly m*sturbating with tears in yours eyes." man stop projecting your shit on me, go get therapy

-> Speedpaint

cw: power imbalance, spanking, no explicit consent but reader is definitely into it, very brief use of daddy (as if thats a surprise), praise, nurse!reader, gn!reader

It was a boring day. well, as boring as it could be, considering your workplace. a few of the reagents with some injuries, a few just wanting their meds, all in all nothing special. bored out of your mind you decided to get another cup of coffee, just to be walking around and hopefully even get a smidge of entertainment - and as if god had heard you prayers you got what you wanted. a few of the facility's doctors were stood by the coffee machine, and amomg them was Dr. Easterman. it wasn't necessarily rare for you to see him or even chat to him, but you knew that he didnt quite give you all the info he might give the other medical personnel. so, you walked into the room almost silently, grabbing one of the white mugs off the shelf and poured your coffee in, adding milk and sugar; too much and too slow, just for the sake of hearing what he was saying. you stirred the drink, spoon going in slow circles, the occasional soft clinking heard among the chatter.

you were far too lost in thought to notice easterman excusing himself, making his way through the group until he reached you. he wrapped his hand around your upper arm with a firm grip, towering over you, peering down at you over the rim of his glasses. "Nurse. A word?" his strict tone left no room for argument, he barely even waited for an answer before pulling you along with him, down the familiar hallway to his office. he stopped in front of it, digging in his pocket for the key for a moment, before unlocking it and lightly pushing you in. he stepped in behind you, locking the door once again before making his way behind the desk, sitting down in the leather chair. you moved to sit in one of the chairs across from him, but he quickly lifted his hand to stop you. "don't sit. stay right where you are for now." he ordered, the way he spoke to you already made you squirm. you turned to face him, hands behind your back.

"Dr. Easterman..?" you asked carefully, already knowing that you were in trouble, but not wanting to give it away just yet - even if it was painfully obvious by your demeanour. he took his glasses off for a moment, rubbing his eyes with his pointer and his thumb, before putting them back on with a soft sigh.

"it is very impolite to eavesdrop. i think you know that, right?" he asked lowly, one hand reaching to open the top drawer of his desk, grabbing a cigarette and putting it between his lips, the silence that lingered between you only broken up by the click of his lighter. he inhaled deeply once, the smoke curling around his face, not helping with the tension that hung in the air. "you shouldn't be putting your little nose where it doesn't belong. didnt your mother ever teach you that?" you almost jumped when he spoke again. "didn't daddy teach you that?"

your breath caught in your throat, fingers tightening around each other slightly behind your back. "..I'm sorry." was all that you could barely force out, the words feeling like they were stuck in your throat. "it won't happen again." Hendrick scoffed quietly. he was so different from when he spoke to the reagents, his usually perfectly calculated responses now having a hint of genuine emotion behind them, even if it was just something similar to annoyance.

"You're right, it won't happen again. I'll make sure of that." he took another drag of the cigarette before placing it down on the ashtray on his desk, sliding his chair back just enough to free up his lap. "come here." you could feel yourself stiffen at the order, despite wanting to refuse your feet were already carrying you over behind the desk, until you were standing next to him. he watched every step closely, already able to tell how nervous you were but not bothering with any kind of reassurance to make you feel more secure. he revelled in your fear. "bend over my lap." the order was clear, as if it was completely normal - then again, to him it likely was. you slowly did as you were told, bending down over his lap, your hand coming up to lightly grip his chair. Dr. Easterman waited patiently until you had settled in, taking a drag of his cigarette again before putting his undivided attention on you. "its time you learned some manners." he put one hand on your upper back to keep you from bolting, the other just above your waistband, fingers trailing down until he could grab a handful of your plump ass.

"Dr. Easterman-" you gasped in shock, immediately trying to sit up, but he stopped you, the hand on your back pressing down harder to keep you in place.

"shh.." he almost cooed. "you wanna get better, don't you? let me help you get better." with that the first smack landed on your ass, firm but not yet painful, slightly dulled by the stiff fabric of your uniform. he gave you a few seconds to recover from both the surprise and the smack itself, not wanting to overwhelm you too much; after all this was a learning experience, not cruelty for nothing. another smack landed, this time slightly harder. "you're such a good worker. such a caring and kind nurse." he spoke quietly, almost gently as he started to find a rhythm that didn't give you too much room to breathe while making sure you were paying attention to what he was saying. "it is surprising to find you being so impolite, so.. naughty." his own breathing was starting to grow a little heavier now, the smacks getting firmer. "I hired you because I thought you would be doing a good job, serving my purpose - our purpose - without hesitation. i thought i was hiring someone who's obedient, someone who will follow my orders and doesn't question me." he leaned down, his hand resting on your tingling flesh. "are you trying to prove me wrong?" the words hung heavy in the air, his hot breath hitting your ear, the silence stretching until he suddenly delivered a sharp slap to your ass. "I want you to answer me when i ask you something."

you inhaled sharply, trying to regain some composure before answering him. "I-I'm sorry dr. easterman-" you were cut off with your own cry, another, harder slap landing on your ass.

"I didn't ask if you were sorry. i asked if you were trying to prove me wrong." his tone was a bit stricter than before. "one more time. are you trying to prove me wrong?" he asked lowly, his hand hovering above your ass.

"..no sir." a quiet hum rose in his throat.

"that's better." another smack. "then why are you doing it? did i do something to anger you? to make you want to disappoint me?" there it was, his words dripping with that fake guilt that you had heard on recordings so many times. you quickly shook your head, trying to hold back the pained whimpers as he found his rhythm again, his hand heavier. "no?" he acted surprised. "then what is it? why are you being naughty?" he hummed softly at your silence before sighing. "you dont know, do you?" he asked, you shook your head. "you're like a curious child, trying to test my limits, how far you can go without getting in trouble. trying to get daddy's attention." he didnt sound angry, not even irritated. his tone was almost.. fond.

word count: 347 words, unedited

warnings: mentions of male masturbation but nothing super explicit, mild perversions, infantilization ig (idk what you’d call if what a man thinks of himself as the shepard and you as the sheep), power imbalance but it’s not super fleshed out,dipping my toe into some other fandoms, i will write smth more freaky about easterman later (and possibly eddie gluskin okay byeeeee)

easterman is addicted to your vulnerability. you stumble into the chamber, right leg gingerly dipping into the water as you whimper pitifully. burns have developed in the fat of your calf, clinging to your skin and leaving you with a limp. and still, despite your pain, you gaze at the tvs in the upper corners of the room so earnestly. like a prophet seeking guidance from God. the thankful smile on your face at the A plus makes his pride grow as he whispers sweet praise into the microphone.

you’re such a fighter. he loves seeing the glint in your eyes when you grab a bottle or a brick. there’s a fury in your gaze as you bash coyle in the head that leaves easterman groaning as he palms his slacks. but even you have moments where your defenses aren’t enough.

he lingers in the observation room, watching you through the camera’s quietly. you wince whine as the nurse wraps your burn wounds, eyes screwed shut as your teeth dig into your bottom lip. your shirt is gone. discarded in the biohazard bin so the surgeons could stitch the gash that runs across your ribs. so vulnerable.

he leaves a special message for you in those moments. “you’re a phoenix rising from the ashes,” he promises, watching the way you slump in-front of the radio to listen to his voice. its soothing, the baritone of his voice fills your head and replaces any concerns with his simpering praise and ideals.

one day he even gives you the privilege of being in his office. the rough pad of his thumb brushes over your cheek gently as he blows cigarette smoke into your face. the smoke is hot and strong, lashes fluttering as you wince back instinctively. these are the most sacred moments to him. when he can see the fury and fear that boils in your eyes, the instinctive jumpiness that comes from spending hours in endless hell.