A/n: absolutely shameless drabble about nurserard fingering you, the young, new nurse, over her desk... Waiter! More problematic power dynamics please!
Pairing: nurse!gerard x fem reader
CW: fingering, age gap, power imbalance, very slight noncon, slight grooming if you squint
“Please meet me in my office after your shift is over, dear,” comes the sweet, warm tone of the head nurse over your shoulder as you're making notes on a new patient's medication. Your heart clenches involuntarily.
You’ve just graduated college with a big-girl degree in nursing, and you were lucky enough to score a job at the hospital in town. With all the recent uncertainty in the job market, it seemed heaven-sent. You love your work, really. Providing care for people who need it fulfills you in a way nothing has before. You show up to each shift with a smile and a can-do attitude that makes your older colleagues roll your eyes. The inevitable burnout has not singed you yet.
Miss Way was bound to take an interest in you at some point. It just happened to be your first day when she zeroed in on you like a cat to a mouse, immediately praising your hard work, complimenting your appearance, making you feel special. She was the head nurse, after all, and around twenty years your senior. You wanted to do right by her from the get-go.
She was firm, but never unkind to you. Sweet as pie, she’d thank you for working so diligently, telling you “I haven’t seen such a hard worker in years, sugar,” and even began rewarding you with paid-for meals and extra breaks, claiming you “needed to let your poor body rest more, or you’ll run yourself right into the ground.”
All things considered, perhaps you should’ve been more wary of letting yourself become so close with her. But she became something of a maternal figure so quickly, providing warmth, care, and all the other things you craved like a moth craves the burn of a flame.
You went to her office one afternoon for your monthly evaluation, which consisted of her telling you how special you are for an hour, watching you squirm and blush under the praise. On your way out, she put a hand on your lower back and said “you come to me anytime you need something, alright, doll?”
Oh, she made you feel special alright. Soon, you found yourself unable to go a single shift without scanning the halls for her short brown hair, tripping over yourself to earn her attention, which she gave you in heaps and bounds. You couldn’t help but notice how you were the only one who received this treatment. Miss Way wasn’t mean to her other colleagues per se, but she kept up a cool distance between them and herself—one that seemed to vanish around you.
In a way you were proud that you were the one who she favored. It felt like being the favorite child. It felt like something hot and confusing and delicious all at once.
She invited you to her office one evening when you finished your shift. You didn’t question it.
When you arrive, still in your scrubs, she looks up, smiling and beckoning you inside. “Be a lamb and lock the door behind you.”
She sits at her desk, fingers steepled as she tells you how good you’re doing, how you’re more mature than the other nurses your age. You sit in the chair across from her desk, preening at the praise.
“You’re not like the others, you know. You’re special,” she says, hazel eyes roving over you in a way that is both appreciative and violating. Your chest tightens.
You cross your legs as you diligently recount what you’ve achieved this month, counting each task off on your fingers—an innocent gesture that makes Miss Way’s smile turn wolfish for a moment before she schools it back into something unassuming and gentle.
“I wasn’t half the worker you are when I was your age,” she says, leaning back in her chair. “God, I must’ve graduated college before you were born, dear.” And for whatever reason, that makes you clench your thighs together tighter.
This does not go unnoticed by Miss Way. Slowly, she stands up, walking around her desk towards you in even, measured steps, purring “such a pretty little thing too, sweetheart, stand up for a sec,” and when you do, she pushes you over her desk with a surprising show of strength.
You hardly have time to gasp out “M-Miss Way, what are you—“ before she’s yanking your scrubs down, other hand pressing against your back, pinning you down against the desk. The wooden edge digs into your hips.
“Be quiet, now, honey. Let me give you a reward for all your hard work,” Miss Way practically coos in your ear, and you don’t know whether to scream for help or beg for more.
She tuts at your silky white panties before roughly tugging them down your thighs as well, cold hair hitting your hot, already-wet cunt.
“Look at that,” Miss Way murmurs at the sight of your glistening folds. “Do my nice words make you soak your pretty panties, honey?” And you want to say “get off me” or “this isn’t allowed,” but instead you whine “y-yes ma’am.”
She shoves three fingers in your mouth before pushing two into your pussy, muffling the sharp cry that falls from your lips. Her fingers are thick and press against your walls like sweet torture.
You instinctively bite down on her fingers, earning a disapproving hum and a pinch to your tongue.
She alternates between pumping her fingers into you and rubbing your swollen clit, making your thighs shake and eyes roll back as you pant and moan and drool against her palm.
“That’s it, make a pretty mess for me,” Miss Way says in a honeyed voice, pushing in a third finger, crooking them repeatedly in a way that makes your cunt clench around the digits in needy little pulses.
She leans over your back, effectively trapping your body against the hard wood. Your lungs squeeze as she rests her weight against you. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you register that you’re crying.
“Cum on my fingers, sweetling, I know you want it, you little perv,” she pants against your ear, maternal warmth replaced with rough dominance. “You think I haven’t noticed the way you’re always desperate for my attention? If I was mean, I’d make a little whore like you wait, but I’m so nice, aren’t I? Come on, say ‘Miss Way makes me feel so good.’ Oh, hush now, baby, you’ll be well on your way to a promotion if you can be quiet for me. You’re a smart girl aren’t you? Or does having your pussy stuffed make your pretty head dumb?”
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