OMEGA!WHITAKER X FEM!ALPHA!READER
★ANALYSIS! he's so fucking into you it's highkey driving him crazy and turning into a pervert freak loser dork <3
★CW! futanari I think, masturbation (m), omegaverse kinda, fleshlight, mentions of choking, frotting, edging, finger sucking, kinda cuckolding, switch!whitaker, light omega!sub!langdon x reader
★AUTHOR! I did very light research on the omegaverse for this; also this is a part one! Also, I think it's becoming obvious that I have a fetish for masturbation...whoopsie
You might actually be the most wonderful woman he'd ever met. From the shape of your body to the natural inflection of your voice, you were mesmerizing, an infection he enjoyed undergoing.
You were dedicated to your work as a nurse, an ambition he admired. Whenever he'd see someone trying to talk to you about your life, you always surprised him with your quick and vague responses. It intrigued him. What was your life like outside of the Pitt? What did you do? What didn't you like?
He tried not to speculate about your relationships but learning about your title as an Alpha worsened his deep curiosity. Did you have an Omega? Did he know your Omega? Was your Omega male or female? Those uncontrollable thoughts frustrated him deeply.
They also brought shame. The longer he found himself thinking about you and the possibility of your hypothetical Omegas, the closer those thoughts became fantasies. And it was worse when he was going through his heat. So, so much worse.
He would fantasize about you and an Omega he knew—usually Langdon—and the way you would put him in his place. He'd stick his hands down his pants at the thought of you teasing Langdon by getting off in front of him, restraining him and keeping him on the edge while you got off again and again and again.
His fantasies were influenced by seeing you at work with the other Alphas, how you were so domineering and in control, how everyone listened to you and followed anything you said or did.
He knew you were in charge in the bedroom. He knew you would edge him to tears, teasing his dick so much that it was spoiled by and messy from all of the precum he would spill. He knew you would hurt and bruise him, bite and slap and choke him into nothing but your breeding toy. He found himself running off to the bathroom to rut messily into his hand or the bottom half of your scrubs that you asked him to put away for you.
There was a week where you barely talked to him that almost flipped a switch. He had to watch you lead the other nurses, guide an intern too eager to be near you, and (worst of all) talk with Langdon again and again. Didn't he have a wife? Ever since he returned from rehab, you two were basically best friends.
It made him sick. It made him angry.
One night after a long shift, a couple of the day shift went out for drinks, you and Whitaker included. He watched you take your voluminous hair out of the tight bun you had.
It was an excruciating moment, watching your hair fall against your shoulders and frame your face. You were so beautiful, a walking piece of artwork he was blessed to see almost every day. He'd never seen you like this though, and he nearly keeled over and kissed your feet.
When everyone was leaving, you forgot your scrunchie. You'd put it on the table and when you left, the scrunchie stayed in front of him. He was lucky; Santos and Javadi were lightly bickering about something, and Dana and McKay were getting more drinks.
It was easy to snatch it and put it in his pocket. It was harmless! If anyone asked why he had your scrunchie, he was prepared to tell them that he was holding it for you. That wasn't a lie. He was intending on returning it.
He was intending on returning it.
Whenever he came home, suffering from a heavy wave of his heat, Whitaker would wrap the scrunchie around the length of his dick and stroke himself until it hurt to cum. At some point he bought a fleshlight (he made sure it was the exact same shade of your skin as he could manage) and he'd fuck that almost every night.
He'd stuff his dick into the fake pussy, the scrunchie tight on his big cock, and spend so long fucking it full of his cum. He'd think about you, fantasize about what he wanted to do to you.
He wanted to choke you the way he knew you would choke him. He wanted to be above you with your fingers in his mouth while he rapidly humped the crevice of your big tits, dripping cum on your face.
He wanted to tie you up and hump and hump and hump. He wanted to put his dick right against your pussy and rub it against your slick cunt. He wanted to spend all of his late nights and early mornings frotting against your dick. He wanted to squeeze your thighs together, hold his ruined fleshlight on the other side, and fuck it while he fucked your thighs. He knew that would give him one of the greatest orgasms of his life.
He liked to pretend the fleshlight was you, talking to it and treating it as delicately as he could (it's a fuckin fleshlight). He was cum in it over and over in one night, bring it up to his mouth, and clean it out like it was your cunt. He would delve his tongue into it, letting his semen slide into his mouth all the while fapping with the now ruined scrunchie on the base of his cum-covered cock. He let his cum slide past the corner of his lips, over his face and staining his cheeks.
He'd liked to lay on his stomach, fleshlight in his hands and scrunchie on his dick, and imagine fucking you prone, rough and hard. His room would be overcome with the sound of him whining and losing his voice, the obnoxious squelch of the cum filled toy taking his dick, and him babbling to it like it were you underneath him.
At some point, Whitaker has completely ruined the toy and the scrunchie was far too spoiled with his seed to be returned.
Lucky for him, you had started wearing another one to work. Unfortunately, you noticed the light smell of your scent on him quickly after your scrunchie went missing.