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thefantasyden · 24 days

Text

Guarded

Pairing: Chan × AFAB Akita Hybrid Reader

Genre: SMUT, FLUFF

Watnings: Hybrid!Reader, shock collar, muzzle (reader is people aggressive), Guard Hybrid Reader, unprotected sex, biting, dirty talk, angst IF YOU SQUINT, riding.

Word Count: 5396

Synopsis: Chris develops a soft spot for one of the companies security hybrids, breaking every rule along the way.

Hybrids have always been considered a superior choice for security. The second the benefits were noticed, specific lines of canine hybrids were created for the sole purpose of idol protection. Generally, these would be shepherd hybrids or the occasional doberman. You, however, had been an experiment.

An Akita was not a popular choice for a hybrid. The huge fluffy tails often considered to be a distraction and their general distaste for humans made them undesirable for the average house hybrid. JYPE, however, had specifically asked for such a creation.

The company had considered your soft fur and disinterested expression as a skill that made you appear less intimidating to fans, whilst your distrust of strangers and hyper sensitive ears made you a perfect match for their highest earners.

༄ જ⁀➴

"This doesn't come off unless you're eating."

The rumbling voice of your boss, an overbearing and obnoxiously muscled human, grates against your eardrums as he breaks the silence of the meeting room you were in, the distinct click of the lock on your black wired muzzle stirring its usual annoyance in your stomach.

You were used to this. Yet a growl still crept from your throat, the collar secured around your neck buzzing in warning, having been enough to cut you off. You'd usually take the harsh shock purely for the satisfaction of sending your chosen expletives his way, but even you had a limit when it was 6am and you'd been poked and prodded by every form of physician to ensure you were up to your assignment.

"Four of the members have their finger prints registered to unlock the muzzle. As always, it's connected to the sensor in your collar. In case of an emergency, it will detect your heart rate and unlock itself."

You yawn, having heard this speech a few hundred times. It's more for the benefit of Bang Chan, who had never had to handle you without your boss before.

"You'll be with them every waking moment for the full 2 weeks. If they're broken off into groups, you're to stay with the younger members. If anyone has a solo schedule, you will stay with them. Do you understand?"

You stare blankly, offering no response until a sharp shock pulses in your neck, your muscles tensing in response, yet offering no other indication of your pain.

"Yes, Sir."

Chris stares at you almost sympathetic, yet cautious. The muzzle was for their protection, too.

You'd been labelled a safety hazard not long after your training had been completed. You didn't care to distinguish between a threat of high societal status or your average safety risk, and you had no hesitation in treating them equally. Truthfully, you'd been labelled as having no sense of morality, despite the inaccuracy of such a term. Your loyalty was to that of whomever you were assigned to, and that was it.

You notice Chris' curious eyes and open your mouth, baring your incredibly sharp canines as you run your tongue over them, taunting him for your own entertainment.

"If it gets too ballsy, just press this button."

Your boss hands Chris the small control for the collar, pointing out which button was which. You could tell by the look on the man's face that he wouldn't have the strength to use it.

༄ જ⁀➴

It had been a long demonstration before you'd been sent back to the dorm with the man who chose to ramble facts about himself to you in the back of the car, attempting to fill the silence until the moment you stepped through the door, immediately greeted by 7 other pairs of curious eyes.

"Oh hey, I know you!"

Felix was one of the 2 boys that had never been cautious of you, immediately making his way toward you to stroke your velvety ears in spite of your low growl. You'd spent most of your time accompanying himself and Hyunjin on their solo schedules, so he'd had plenty of time to analyse your body language and felt more than comfortable around you.

"Felix! Don't do that!"

Changbin scolds for the kitchen, and you roll your eyes more at the absurdity of the situation than at him directly. Changbin often enjoyed when you'd join them as you could easily keep up with his workouts and happened to enjoy eating as much as he did. Two wonderfully helpful hybrid traits.

You accept quiet greetings as the group spread into different corners, some heading back up to their own dorms to complete their packing before you left for the airport.

"I'm sorry... about the muzzle..."

Chris' voice is quiet, guilt lacing his words earning a devious smirk as you responded with honey dripping from your words.

"Oh. It's for your safety, really. You look like something I'd want to sink my teeth into."

༄ જ⁀➴

Getting through the airport is harder than you'd expect with a hybrid, and you're forced to accept a full body pat down before you're able to comfortably seat yourself behind Felix and Seungmin, Chris settled to your right as you listen to the quiet clicks of his keyboard. Every time you were with them, he had spent every spare second working, and you guessed this would be no different, trying your best to tune out the monotonous tapping as you left for your destination.

༄ જ⁀➴

The first 3 days are nothing special. You enjoy shoving people to the side at the airport and the events you accompanied the group to had their own healthy amounts of security, leaving you to float between small groups as the members mingled with their peers. All light work until the fourth day when you'd been assigned to the Sunshine twins and Jeongin. They had a free day and whilst the others had chosen to spend their time working out or otherwise entertaining themselves in their rooms, the three boys you were currently following had chosen to venture out into the city, aware that they had a very poor collective sense of direction.

You're constantly on guard, scanning the area as you walk behind the men. You had hardly noticed, han holding a small bag of chocolate covered pretzels in front of you, waving it enticingly.

"I thought you might like a snack!"

He had chosen quickly to accept Felixs judgement when the blonde expressed his trust in you, and you stare at him in confusion when the tips of his fingers slip into the gap in the bottom of your muzzle, holding the chocolatey treat in front of your mouth.

He laughs a little when your tongue pokes out to tilt the treat into your mouth, seeing you smile slightly for the first time.

"So food is the way to your heart, huh?"

You shake your head, unable to contain a quiet chuckle.

"I wouldn't say that, but it's definitely a good offering."

"Have you actually bitten people?"

Jeongins voice shouts curiously from your left, approaching you with a little more caution than the other two boys, biting into his own snacks as he speaks.

"That wouldn't really make sense, right? Don't you have normal teeth?"

It was almost endearing how little he knew, and as you bared your teeth in his direction, you could see a brief flash of fear run through him.

"I did bite a man once after training. I guess I've never been great at respecting authority?"

You can hear Hans laughter, a quiet 'me too!' Sounding between dramatic gasps. You guessed that was another reason he felt so comfortable with you.

"Don't look so scared." You coo, flashing him a mischievous smile. "I'll only bite you if you ask me to."

You can almost smell his confusion, laughing to yourself as you continue to follow them through the city, guiding them back to the hotel when they inevitably find themselves lost.

Chris is just happy to see them in one piece when they let themselves into his room, eager to show him the pictures they'd taken.

You quietly tend to tidying the cables of his equipment, primarily to ease your own annoyance at the careless pile they were forming, and only slightly due to the concern that if he tripped, it would be your problem.

"Oh wow. This one's really cool. Very dark."

You peek over Chris' shoulder, involuntarily sounding a deep growl when you see the picture Felix had taken of you.

"Delete it."

Chris turns to glare at you, always defensive over the younger boys in spite of any fear he may have held toward you.

"It's not a big deal. Calm down."

It sounds like an order, and your lip twitches into a snarl. The quiet click of the door opening before a sharp shock catches you off guard, pushing you to find stability against the back of the couch.

"Minho, what the fuck?!"

You struggle to regain your focus, turning to face him with a dangerous scowl.

"I heard growling! That's what it's for, isn't it?"

Han is snatching the control from his hand, angrily berating him about how cruel it was and stating that you were allowed to be upset. It made you cringe, somewhat embarrassed by his need to defend you.

"It's fine. He's right."

You straighten yourself as you speak, trying your best to be gentle when you pry the control from the smaller man's hand and hand it back to your new adversary.

"Someone needs to be willing to use it. And you shouldn't be so quick to trust me."

༄ જ⁀➴

You've left Chris' room in favour of making your rounds, sure that Changbin would be found in Hyunjins room and pleasantly surprised to see Seungmin in there too, sat neatly on Hyunjins bed and watching Changbin type next to him.

"I'm surprised that you three are the easiest today." You laugh to yourself, earning a warm smile from Changbin who had always had a particular soft spot for you, mostly out of respect. Maybe he found you a little relatable, harbouring his own distrust of strangers that may even rival yours.

"Seungmin had this really cool concept for a song, so we've just been here all day."

You nod in response, failing to stifle a yawn after so long without sleep. Another flaw in hybrid evolution. Your sleep schedule was patchy, always taking a few hours at a time and never a full 6-8 like most humans.

"Did you wanna nap?"

It's Hyunjin this time, and he's up fluffing a pillow on the extra bed beside them.

"Oh, no. I really shouldn't..."

"We'll wake you up if anyone needs anything." Seungmin adds, nodding along when Changbin all but orders you to rest at least a little bit.

You're reluctant, but that quickly sinks away when you find the soft pillows, wrapping your arms around a spare one and registering the faintest remnant of Hyunjins' fresh scent, almost akin to laundry detergent.

༄ જ⁀➴

You're awake 2 hours later, your collar vibrating, however, offering no shock.

"See, it can be used nicely."

It's a surprise to hear Minhos voice, noting that Changbin and Chan were now the only other men in the room.

"I forgot it could do that." You think more to yourself than to them, but you see the sadness in Chans' eyes. He may fear you, but he felt for you more.

"Channie has a solo schedule, so you're off with him for the night."

You hum in acknowledgement, stretching before following Chan down into the lobby and out to the car. You're in closer proximity than you're used to, but he isn't yapping your ear off this time, and you think briefly to be grateful for that.

"I'm really sorry about Minho." His words are laced with the same guilt as you'd heard before, and you frown, confused.

"He was doing exactly what he should have. I snarled at you?"

Your confusion prompts his own.

"Yeah but like... you wouldn't have done anything, right? I mean, you couldn't if you wanted to."

He taps the muzzle to make his point, and you scoff, indignant.

"It's about respect. And really, biting you isn't the only way I could hurt you."

Your frown quickly pulls up into a signature smirk, and he's already rolling his eyes, fulling expecting what comes next.

"But I prefer to use my claws for pleasure."

༄ જ⁀➴

You stick by his side most of the day, patiently watching through photoshoots and interviews with writers, paying careful attention to his mood as he grows frustrated by the change in temperature from outfit to outfit, his usual bright attitude faltering the more tired he grows.

It's almost 12am by the time you make it to the hotel room you're spending the night in, needed close to the venue for his early morning continuance. He's barely thinking when he orders food for you both, making his way to where you sat on the floor and crouching down.

"Promise you're not gonna get me in trouble for this?" He asks quietly, fingers searching for the lock on your muzzle.

Your eyes are wide, almost concerned as he takes your silence for an answer, pressing his thumb to the sensor pad.

You're motionless as you process the unsuspected freedom, slowly opening your mouth as you hear the subtle crackle of your jaw, the relief being welcome yet somewhat frightening. It had been years since you'd be free in the vicinity of a human, and if you were honest, you're not sure you trusted yourself.

"You'll be fine. Just eat, ok? I can put it back on after if you're uncomfortable." He shakes his head, laughing to himself. "I'm sure if you wanted to hurt me, a muzzle wouldn't make a difference."

He was right. You were as close to a trained assassin as legally allowed (maybe a little illegally, but that was between you and your creators), and you hadn't felt any sense of true animosity toward him.

As you begin to eat, he's aware of your fork scraping at your bowl of food, the chicken not really sparking your interest as your nose scrunched at the smell.

"Is something wrong?"

You want to be delicate, but the sheer volume of vegetables had your appetite waning.

"It's fine, I'm just... more of a red meat kind of dog."

You hope that tacking on a laugh would ease some of the tension, but it makes no difference to him when he hears the distate in your voice, humming to himself as he reached for your food, taking it from you and replacing it with his mostly untouched mixture of beef and rice.

"Oh, you don't have to -"

"You need to eat. Besides, I could use the uh... greens."

He looks just as uninterested in the food as you were, yet offers no complaint as he clears his plate, smiling to himself when he sees you enjoying the meal he'd sacrificed. He'd never really seen you relaxed like this, and it made him think maybe he could offer you a little care more often.

You wipe your face, hesitantly reaching for the wire basket of your muzzle, and hold it in your hands, staring with an emotion Chan couldn't quite place.

"You don't have to... I mean, it's just me. I won't tell if you don't."

You're analysing his face, searching for even the slighting hint of hesitance and coming up empty-handed, immediately softening and offering a whispered thank you, which he smiles in response to, happy to see your guard lowered.

He offers you half of his dessert, ignoring the clear instructions he was given about your food intake for the chance to commit the way your face lights up to his memory. He can feel himself growing fond of you when you curl up on the bed across from him, telling himself to remember that you like to have an extra pillow for hugging. For now, he'll ignore the other thoughts that skim through his mind about that pillow.

༄ જ⁀➴

He's gentler with you after that day, and it makes the next week pass quickly and comfortably. You're slow to warm, but you find yourself feeling a little less guarded around the boys, even developing a bit of a soft spot for Jeongins curious questions which you answer with only a teasing hint of annoyance.

It's virtually impossible for you not to miss them when you get home, almost immediately being forced to return to your usual maintenance schedule. What was the point of your phone when you weren't allowed to make friends? As much as you cared for the few other hybrids in the companies inventory, it was never the same. The obligatory bond you held was hardly an honest form of friendship, and you found yourself craving the kindness Chris had shown you.

༄ જ⁀➴

The change in your attitude when you're finally reunited with the group is notable, your boss commenting on how unusually willing you were being locked into your usual gear, thinking he had finally managed to break your stubborn spirit.

You're silent, almost obedient, as you're carted off to the main building, your leg bouncing impatiently as the details of the photoshoot you'd be chaperoning them at were relayed to you. Your fidgeting doesn't cease until you're greeted by the 8 men, Felix and Hyunjin, offering you a hug to which you reluctantly accept for the benefit of your boss who shoots you a questioning glance before spewing his usual monologue to Chris and Minho before ushering you into separate vehicles.

༄ જ⁀➴

You quietly observe the boys throughout the day, admiring their features as their makeup is retouched and they're manouvered into various positions by their photographer. You try to ignore your gidiness when Chan slips you bites of various snacks through your muzzle, occasionally absent mindedly petting your ears in what seemed like an act of self soothing. You don't acknowledge the intimacy of such an action, returning it by staying closer than necessary when he's having his pictures taken.

You had been relatively calm most of the time. The bustle of the venue provided a sense of security, your ears perked, and tuned into the background noise as you monitored the scene. It wasn't until you heard a dark laugh, a sense of unease settling in your stomach, that you began to tense.

Your ears flick in the direction of the unknown voice, easily hearing his whispered disapproval toward the idol of focus. Any attempt at subtlety is lost when you turn your head to face him, recognising one of the company's newer security recruits. You were unfortunately familiar with him and were far from a fan, standing to move toward the catering table he was standing by as you nonchalantly commented in his direction.

"It's actually really rude to comment on the appearance of others when you're built like the worm from Labrinth."

It may have come out ruder than intended, but you hear the quiet giggle of Changbin to your left, and any sense of concern drifts from your mind.

"Mind your business, mutt."

You and Changbin both turn to the man, matching scowls as a deep, threatening growl sounds in your chest.

"Watch yourself."

You're not as aware of your surroundings as you should be, fixated on the man who, in a moment of bravery or perhaps stupidity, reaches to shove you, your body flushing with heat as you lunge forward, immediately caught by Changbins hand on your arm which tugs you back. It takes you a moment to register Chris in your view until he begins berating the other man as your ears ring, rage flooding your body, causing you to struggle against Changbins grip, easily freeing yourself.

Chris makes brief eye contact with you, and it takes your last shreds of reason to force you into dragging yourself to the changing room, slamming the door behind you as you pace obsessively, desperately willing yourself to calm down lest you be offered an unnecessary shock that would only make things worse.

༄ જ⁀➴

You avoid Chris like the plague.

He wants to address it. To ask why you were mad at him, but between wardrobe issues and scheduling errors, he can't seem to catch a break, and he's barely seen you at all by the time you're all being sent off to your hotel rooms and when that time comes, you're locking yourself in the bathroom, leaving him no option but to spread out on one of the beds and sit with his thoughts until you finally exit, still silent save for the sound of your footsteps on the thin carpet.

"Did I do something wrong?" He sits up to grab your attention and is met with a scoff, your eyes rolling in his direction before you turn your full body toward him, leaning against the dresser that was pushed up against the wall, your tail thumping against the wood in annoyance.

"You embarrassed me."

"How did I embarrass you?!"

You'd been growling a lot more than usual today, and it surprises him to hear it directed toward himself, your lip twitching as if fighting the urge to bare your teeth.

"I could have handled it."

Confusion doesn't cover how he feels, his eyes narrowing.

"You could have gotten yourself in some serious shit. I was worried!"

"Well, don't be! I can take care of myself! That's my entire fucking job."

"Can you not swear at me right now?!"

You're both raising your voices at this point, emotions bubbling over from the tension you'd been harbouring.

"Don't piss me off and I won't fucking swear at you!"

"Oh god forbid someone shows you a little concern! Am I not allowed to fucking care about you?"

The words trip something in you and you almost instantly fall silent, swallowing loudly as saliva pools on your tongue.

"You don't mean that."

The tears pooling in your eyes feel shameful, but the way Chris softens immediately almost makes up for it as he steps closer, reaching out to grab your fingers.

"Yes, I do. How couldn't I?"

You try to tug your hand away from him, but his grip is firm, and he tugs you closer to wrap his strong arms around you, cooing as he hears you sniffling. You'd never cried before in your life. You'd never really felt much, in all honesty. It's not like hybrids came with families to miss or emotional bonds. The bond you'd built with him was one of the only things you'd grown to cherish in a world not meant for you.

"It's okay. I got ya."

A click echoes in the room, and he carefully slides the muzzle down your face, petting you as your tears dried on his shirt.

You flinch a little when he pulls back, softly holding your cheeks in his hand as he forces you to make eye contact, a gentle smile tugging at his lips.

"You're really cute when you're emotional."

Both of you giggle when you swat at his chest until he's silent, thinking to himself before he speaks.

"Can I try something?"

You nod, curious and trusting as he covers your eyes, your guard all but shattered by the care he's shown you. It's not until you feel hesitant lips brushing yours that you understand what he was really asking, and it's entirely instinct when your lips meet his own more forcefully, eager to show him your appreciation.

His hands move from your eyes to your waist, carefully squeezing your hips in silent thanks as he sets a leisurely tempo, playing around with the pressure until he hears you breathe a dreamy sigh.

You're not pushing for more, but your hands are restless, and you keep trying to get closer to him in spite of the complete lack of space, your chest now pressed flush against his own as your hands sneak their way under his shirt. He really hadn't noticed, too caught up in his own reeling mind as he tried to savour the moment, finally having you in his arms in a way he had only dreamt of.

"Please."

He doesn't hear it at first. The whine that followed being his only indication that you'd said anything at all and causing him to pull away, much to your disappointment.

He was glad he did. Your face was flushed with heat and there was a new found almost airy quality to you, as if you had finally let go of something that was weighing you down.

"Huh?"

His own voice is little more than a strained whisper, fighting to keep his composure as his own resolve slips with every passing second of your warm skin sending flushes of pulsing need through his own body.

"Need..." There's an impatient huff that tells him you're not really sure what you need, and he's right there with you as he dares to push a little further, his lips tentatively ghosting over your neck, another flush of pleasure finding him as he feels a rumble rising in your throat.

"Chris, please!"

He's gripping your hips, turning you so that he can guide you back toward the bed. His lips never leave your skin, teeth nipping at your flesh. You're on your back before you know it, tugging at his shirt as he settles between your legs and pushes your shirt up, disconnecting for only a moment before his lips are on your chest.

You're pushing at his shoulders, and he's moving to sit beside you, confused and anxious until you climb into his lap and begin mindlessly nipping at his neck, your sharp nails tickling his skin as you drag them over his stomach and up toward his chest.

"Need you so bad. Please, Chris. Wanna ride you."

He's completely dazed, losing himself to the pleasure as you desperately fuss at his belt, struggling to undo it in your frenzied state.

The buckle clinks, and he's helping you get his pants down, whispering soothing words in an attempt to calm you both.

"You're okay. You're gonna get what you want, yeah? Just gotta be patient."

You're anything but. You really don't mean to growl at him this time, but the way his hand meets your throat with commanding confidence has you moaning pathetically, practically clawing at his skin as you grind against his painfully hard cock. You hadn't even managed to undress, too feral to spare a thought for anything but the warmth pooling between your thighs.

"Baby, take these off."

Lips meet yours once again, and he has to force you from his lap so he can get your own pants off, taking the chance to strip you completely before you begin whining at him.

"Shhhh. C'mere puppy. Come take what you want, ok?"

The frantic nod of your head makes him smirk a little and you're sinking down on his cock before he can ground himself, your shaky panting earning the most delicious groans from him. You're so wet that he can feel it coating his thighs and your pussy is clenching around him with every grind of your hips against his.

"Fuck. You're making a mess, baby. Nobody takin' care of this pretty cunt?"

You're too embarrassed to respond, sinking your teeth into his neck instead. It catches him off guard, and he's bucking his hips up into you as you set yourself the mission of marking every inch you can without stopping, your nails digging into his chest.

Everything is slippery and rushed and you have to find his cock again a few times thanks to your overenthusiastic movement, but he doesn't stop you from relentlessly chasing your high until he feels you shaking on top of him, pussy fluttering as you whimper and whine into his neck.

Your mind is hazy, and somehow you're hungry for more, yelping when he presses you back into the crisp white sheets of the bed. He's lost all restraint now, hand wrapping around your neck right beneath your metal collar. Wide, watery eyes only encourage him as he begins pounding into you, picking up speed from the very start.

"You're mine now, ok? All mine. Gonna have to convince 'em to let me keep you all to myself. My dirty little puppy."

"Please let me be yours! Please. Love you!"

He tells himself its lust fueled rambling, but he can feel his heart skip a beat when you speak, and he wants nothing more than to show you how good he could be to you, even if just for a night.

His hands find the back of your thighs and he's pushing them up, allowing him a better angle so that the tip of his cock could find your gspot, coaxing small tears that slip down your cheeks. He can't help but lean over you, planting the sweetest kisses to your cheeks and forehead in direct contrast of his harsh thrust.

"You're so good for me. Look at how well you're taking my cock, huh? Like you were made for me."

One of your thighs is dropped in favour of Chris lacing his own fingers with yours as he finds your lips in a passionate, albeit slightly messy kiss. He's moaning against your lips, and you're gasping, clawing at his back as you spill desperate pleas among whispered 'love you's.

"Say it louder. Fuck, please."

The strain of need in his voice flips a switch in you and the need to please him buries itself almost as deep inside you as he was.

"Love you, Chris! Love you so much. Fuck, I need you. Need to be yours! Please keep me-"

He cuts you off with another desperate kiss and now he's the one whining, his hips stuttering as he drops your other thigh, fingers finding your clit to rub firm circles that push you over the edge once more, your cunt spasming being the final push he needed to send him over the edge and he fills you completely, cock pulsing for what feels like hours.

He's never cum so hard in his life and he can't help but laugh a little, distracted by the sight of his cum dripping down your slit as he pulls out.

You're shushed when you try to sit up, and he's petting your head before leaving to get a damp towel, which he uses to gently wipe your thighs and tummy which had been coated in your slick. It's a gentle act, and you can feel the tears stinging your eyes again, concern flooding him

"Baby, are you okay? Did I do something wrong?"

He sinks back down beside you, pulling you back against his chest so he can hold you close to him. It's more to soothe himself than you, his fongers running over the soft fur of your tail, but he still hopes it offers you some sense of comfort.

"Meant it."

He can barely hear you, but his eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"Meant what?"

You huff and try to scoot away, immediately pulled back flush against him.

"Pup, what are you talking about?"

"Meant what I said. Y'know... about you..."

It takes him longer than he'd like to finally register what you're talking about, and he buries his head in your neck as a rush of emotional overwhelm finds him. He really had been sure you were just rambling nonsense, but your conformation solidifies his own feelings. He needed you more than he could find words for.

"Me too. Every word."

༄ જ⁀➴

You spend the entire night cuddled up to each other, Chris waking intermittently and pulling you back to him when you'd spread out a little too far away from him for his liking. It's when he's getting ready the next morning that he finally sees the obscene display of deep purple and red bruises littering the entirety of his neck, splotches along his shoulders, and trailing down his chest.

"Baby, are you kidding?! I can't hide these!"

You know he's not mad, and the thump off your tail against the bed wipes the scowl from his face with ease, his head shaking in disbelief.

"I told you that you were something I'd wanna sink my teeth into!"

#stray kids smut #skz smut #bang chan smut #chan smut #chan x reader #chan hybrid smut #hybrid reader x chan #bang chan x reader

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misctf · 5 months

Text

Selection Day

“Mr. Wagner, this is an impressive application.” The man mused, “Graduated college last year with a 4.0 GPA in biology. I see you completed prep courses to become a physician.”

James Wagner nodded, “That would be ideal.”

His father promised he’d have nothing to worry about on Selection Day, which occurred during the month of one’s 23rd birthday. Judges reviewed your file: extracurriculars, criminal record, education, etc., to determine the perfect career for you- and give you all the tools to succeed.

“I see here your father is Senator Wagner and your mother is Dr. Wagner, both distinguished in their fields. Quite a tough election year though.”

“Dad isn’t too worried though. His campaign manager says he has a plan.” James leaned back in his chair, “Already planning the victory party.”

“You should celebrate too. I think you’ll be perf...” The judge’s phone rang, cutting him off, “Excuse me Mr. Wagner, I have to take this.”

The judge left James to himself. The young man sighed in relief, despite some growing anticipation. When his brother went through the process, they didn’t change too much. They enhanced his attractive features and gave him a greater sense of ambition- all fitting for his career in finance. But he was still his brother. James hoped for something similar. He knew his application would let him select from “tier A models” so he was feeling good. And afterwards, he and his dad would go golfing and get dinner down at the country club to celebrate.

“Mr. Wagner, come with me” The judge said as he returned to the room.

James nodded, “Uh by the way, I was hoping to go with a Tier A physician model...”

“No worries James, just follow me please.”

James followed closely entering a room filled with various pods. A knot formed in his stomach. This is where it would happen. He gulped and watched as the judge walked towards a pod and pressed some buttons. This was it. Calmly, James undid his button shirt, revealing his lean and tanned body. Years of track and caddying on the golf course gave him a nice tan and lean physique. As he finished undressing, his attention shifted to the pod as it whirred to life and opened.

“Here it goes.” He whispered.

The young man stepped into the pod and watched the door shut. A small window allowed him to see the outside world and he nodded at the judge, who frowned in return. And then it started. The mechanical hands that lay dormant suddenly came to life, scanning James’s body.

“Applicant: James Wagner.” A soothing mechanical voice stated, before rattling off demographics that James simply tuned out, “Model: Gym Staff, Front Desk, Tier D.”

“Wait what?” James called out, “Hey! I think somethings wrong.” He tried to convey, “That’s not...”

He barely had a moment to speak as a metallic substance wrapped around his legs. He cried out as it burned his skin. And slowly, his legs began to expand, filling with raw muscle. His slender calves popped with muscle, while his 10.5 inch feet expanded to size 13. He held back tears as his thighs expanded with firm muscle. And then, his lower extremities were freed.

“Holy fuck!” He shouted, as he wriggled his new toes, “Please, I think there’s been some kind of mistake!” The judge wasn’t paying attention anymore, just talking to someone on the phone.

Before he could continue, a saddle emerged from underneath him and wrapped around his ass and cock. A gentle warmth encompassed them, causing James to shudder. But as he focused on the sensation, more of the substance covered his chest and torso. Similar to his legs, he felt an intense warming sensation. And as the warmth intensified, he felt himself growing. He watched as a strong core and bounceable pecs formed from his once lean physique and groaned as his torso stretched, adding height. But it wasn’t just height. He was becoming wider as his back expanded with muscle. When the mold finally released him, he was left with a physique he could only dream of obtaining naturally. But this wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t want to be a hulking beast of a man.

“You need to...” James started to cough as a green haze entered the pod, “What... fuck... bro please...” He kept coughing, barely noticing his use of the word “bro” and his deepening voice, “Dude, this ain’t cool!”

He watched as his arms were encased. Biceps and triceps exploded from his lean arms, while his forearms grew with muscle. When his arms were released, he could gawk at them in awe.

“Dude, check it out, my guns are lookin' massive!” James’s eyes widened, “Dude, why do I sound all weird? Not stoked about it, man!” Try as he might, he couldn’t control the new bro lingo that left his mouth.

And before he could say another word, a mask wrapped around his face and neck. He cried as his face was remodeled. Simultaneously, personal details were added to his physique. Tattoos of some meaning to James were carved into his body. Meanwhile, he was sprayed with a different solution that caused hair to sprout from his abdomen and chest, eventually thickening and forming a dense treasure trail. His arms and legs were not spared, nor were his ass or dick. And with a mechanical screech, the mask finally left his face. His new eyes were dark, topped by thick dark eyebrows. His light brown hair replaced with darker brown. His clean shaven face now adorned with stubble. And his angular face just a bit rounder, with a pair of thick lips. The young man felt his new face and rubbed a hand across his hairy pecs.

“Seriously, dude? No way!” He grumbled, ““Dude, I'm not a bro, change me back, seriously!” James felt tears well up in his eyes. This wasn’t him, he didn’t sound like this. He still had his intelligence, but no one would take him seriously.

But his thoughts were interrupted as the his privates were freed. James’s eyes widened. His dick was never that big, nor did he have foreskin before. He watched in awe as it started expanding and he wrapped his hand around it.

“Whoa, bro, check out the size of that thing!” He started pumping his new cock, “Bro, this is epic! It feels so damn good!” A new mist filled the pod as he continued to jerk off, causing James to scrunch his nose, “Dude, it totally reeks in here, like a locker room or something.” From this point on, that smell would stick to him. He’d always smell like a dirty locker room.

However this did little to deter him as he jerked off. And as he did so, he felt a quick jab in his arm as the contents of a syringe were dumped into him.

“Dude, my head's all fuzzy right now, it's weird.” He moaned as his IQ plummeted and new knowledge filled his brain, “Heh, check this out, dude.” He moaned as he bounced his pecs, “Dude, wait, my brain's acting up. I'm, like, still smart, yeah?” James tried to remember facts that he once memorized but found nothing. His golf skills replaced by workout routines, his adherence to social norms evaporating, and his desire to present himself well replaced with a need to wear tank tops and gym shorts, “Whatever, bro, it doesn't matter. I've got this, and that's what counts.” He winked at his dick and continued to jerk himself off, moving his hand faster and faster, “Fuck yeah, dude!” He moaned as he came, covering himself in cum and falling to the ground. And there he sat, totally spent until the door to the pod opened.

“Hey James,” James looked up and grinned.

"Yo, what's up, campaign manager bro?"

The older man smiled and turned to the judge, “Very good job, James here is perfect. No one will think Selection Day is rigged if even Senator Wagner’s son isn’t safe.”

“Nah, bro, it's Jim, not James.” Jim chuckled, “Like ‘gym’, get it bro?”

“Here Jim, get cleaned up.” The judge said, throwing the man a towel.

After wiping the cum from his hairy abdomen and chest, he got dressed in a tank top and gym shorts. And as he walked through the building, he barely cared at the glances of disgust and the people holding their noses. Nor did he care for the judgmental stares as he scratched his balls and pits, completely oblivious to social norms. When he finally got outside, he smiled when he saw his father’s limo. He quickly walked over and jumped in with a grin.

“Who are you?” His father asked, scrunching his nose.

Jim grinned and pulled his dad in for a hug, “Yo, dad, it's me, Jim. What's good?"

Several months had passed since then and much changed for Jim. His father quickly disowned him, believing that James hadn’t been honest with the family if this was the outcome of Selection Day. Besides, appealing outcomes was a lengthy process and for Jim’s dad, there could be great political repercussions given his support for the process. So Jim would remain. His life on the golf course and dining in the country club just a memory.

But Jim didn’t mind as he entered his small studio apartment and tossed his gym bag to the ground. He walked over to the dirty mattress in the middle of his room and plopped down, scratching his pits and flipping through his phone.

“Bro, check it out! Dad crushed the election, fuck yeah!” He cheered with a grin. His grin only widened as he read the text from the cute blond guy from the gym.

Even if he couldn’t celebrate with his family that night, Jim was going to celebrate. And as he texted the guy his address, he could feel the monster in his pants start to grow.

#male tf #male transformation #mental change #personality tf #jock tf

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allthecanadianpolitics · 9 months

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Some recent COVID-19 news

Growing Concern for back to school as data shows rising COVID cases in B.C.

A grassroots group of health professionals are calling for British Columbia to reinstate mask mandates in schools and hospitals to prevent a repeat “tripledemic” of COVID-19, RSV and influenza infections that pushed the province’s hospitals to the brink last fall.

And with data showing rising COVID-19 cases in B.C. and two new viral subvariants on the horizon, Protect Our Province B.C. says the province should act sooner rather than later.

The group is composed of more than a dozen doctors, nurses, researchers, teachers and professionals who advocate for evidence-based pandemic policies.

“We know from last year kids and schools were hit hard and if the goal is to keep kids learning in school we need to do what we can to prevent virus spread this fall,” said Dr. Lyne Filiatrault, a retired emergency room physician in Vancouver and a member of the group.

COVID response confounds SARS expert

As COVID-19 surges globally, a leading infectious disease specialist is confounded by the lack of pandemic mitigation measures in Ontario.

Q: What is your advice for people who want to stay safe this fall?

Dr. Dick Zoutman: “One is to be informed. I do recommend Dr. Tara Moriarty’s website — COVID19resources.ca,” Zoutman said. “We owe her a large debt.”

Second, when the latest COVID-19 vaccine is available, “get it,” he recommended.

Third, “buy N95 respirators and make sure you have plenty and have one with you all the time. And when you go into an indoor public space — be it a hospital, a bank, a grocery store, school — put it on. The best ones are the ones that go around your head, because they’re tighter.”

Fourth, antigen rapid tests must be made widely available. “If you have any symptoms, you need to test and isolate yourself.”

Finally, avoid indoor public places this fall, he said. “I haven’t eaten in a restaurant in almost four years, and I don’t intend to.”

#cdnpoli #canada #canadian politics #canadian news #canadian

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batboyblog · 1 month

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One woman miscarried in the lobby restroom of a Texas emergency room as front desk staff refused to admit her. Another woman learned that her fetus had no heartbeat at a Florida hospital, the day after a security guard turned her away from the facility. And in North Carolina, a woman gave birth in a car after an emergency room couldn’t offer an ultrasound. The baby later died.

Complaints that pregnant women were turned away from U.S. emergency rooms spiked in 2022 after the U.S. Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade, federal documents obtained by The Associated Press reveal.

-------

It’s happened despite federal mandates that the women be treated.

Federal law requires emergency rooms to treat or stabilize patients who are in active labor and provide a medical transfer to another hospital if they don’t have the staff or resources to treat them. Medical facilities must comply with the law if they accept Medicare funding.

The Supreme Court will hear arguments Wednesday that could weaken those protections. The Biden administration has sued Idaho over its abortion ban, even in medical emergencies, arguing it conflicts with the federal law.

“No woman should be denied the care she needs,” Jennifer Klein, director of the White House Gender Policy Council, said in a statement. “All patients, including women who are experiencing pregnancy-related emergencies, should have access to emergency medical care required under the Emergency Medical Treatment and Labor Act.”

PREGNANCY CARE AFTER ROE

Pregnant patients have “become radioactive to emergency departments” in states with extreme abortion restrictions, said Sara Rosenbaum, a George Washington University health law and policy professor.

“They are so scared of a pregnant patient, that the emergency medicine staff won’t even look. They just want these people gone,” Rosenbaum said.

Consider what happened to a woman who was nine months pregnant and having contractions when she arrived at the Falls Community Hospital in Marlin, Texas, in July 2022, a week after the Supreme Court’s ruling on abortion. The doctor on duty refused to see her.

“The physician came to the triage desk and told the patient that we did not have obstetric services or capabilities,” hospital staff told federal investigators during interviews, according to documents. “The nursing staff informed the physician that we could test her for the presence of amniotic fluid. However, the physician adamantly recommended the patient drive to a Waco hospital.”

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Federal investigators looked into just over a dozen pregnancy-related complaints in those states during the months leading up to the U.S. Supreme Court’s pivotal ruling on abortion in 2022. But more than two dozen complaints about emergency pregnancy care were lodged in the months after the decision was unveiled. It is not known how many complaints were filed last year as the records request only asked for 2022 complaints and the information is not publicly available otherwise.

------

‘SHE IS BLEEDING A LOT’

Other pregnancies ended in catastrophe, the documents show.

At Sacred Heart Emergency Center in Houston, front desk staff refused to check in one woman after her husband asked for help delivering her baby that September. She miscarried in a restroom toilet in the emergency room lobby while her husband called 911 for help.

“She is bleeding a lot and had a miscarriage,” the husband told first responders in his call, which was transcribed from Spanish in federal documents. “I’m here at the hospital but they told us they can’t help us because we are not their client.”

Emergency crews, who arrived 20 minutes later and transferred the woman to a hospital, appeared confused over the staff’s refusal to help the woman, according to 911 call transcripts.

One first responder told federal investigators that when a Sacred Heart Emergency Center staffer was asked about the gestational age of the fetus, the staffer replied: “No, we can’t tell you, she is not our patient. That’s why you are here.”

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Meanwhile, the staff at Person Memorial Hospital in Roxboro, North Carolina, told a pregnant woman, who was complaining of stomach pain, that they would not be able to provide her with an ultrasound. The staff failed to tell her how risky it could be for her to depart without being stabilized, according to federal investigators. While en route to another hospital 45 minutes away, the woman gave birth in a car to a baby who did not survive.

In Melbourne, Florida, a security guard at Holmes Regional Medical Center refused to let a pregnant woman into the triage area because she had brought a child with her. When the patient came back the next day, medical staff were unable to locate a fetal heartbeat. The center declined to comment on the case.

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For Huntsberger, the OB-GYN, EMTALA was one of the few ways she felt protected to treat pregnant patients in Idaho, despite the state’s abortion ban. She left Idaho last year to practice in Oregon because of the ban.

The threat of fines or loss of Medicare funding for violating EMTALA is a big deterrent that keeps hospitals from dumping patients, she said. Many couldn’t keep their doors open if they lost Medicare funding.

She has been waiting to see how HHS penalizes two hospitals in Missouri and Kansas that HHS announced last year it was investigating after a pregnant woman, who was in preterm labor at 17 weeks, was denied an abortion.

-----------

President Joe Biden and top U.S. health official Xavier Becerra have both publicly vowed vigilance in enforcing the law.

Even as states have enacted strict abortion laws, the White House has argued that if hospitals receive Medicare funds they must provide stabilizing care, including abortions.

In a statement to THE AP, Becerra called it the “nation’s bedrock law protecting Americans’ right to life- and health-saving emergency medical care.”

“And doctors, not politicians, should determine what constitutes emergency care,” he added.

Idaho’s law does not allow abortions if a mother’s health is at risk. But the state’s attorney general has argued that its abortion ban is “consistent” with federal law, which calls for emergency rooms to protect an unborn child in medical emergencies.

“The Biden administration has no business rewriting federal law to override Idaho’s law and force doctors to perform abortions,” Idaho Attorney General Raúl Labrador said in a statement earlier this year.

Now, the Supreme Court will weigh in. The case could have implications in other states like Arizona, which is reinstating an 1864 law that bans all abortions, with an exception only if the mother’s life is at risk.

EMTALA was initially introduced decades ago because private hospitals would dump patients on county or state hospitals, often because they didn’t have insurance, said Alexa Kolbi-Molinas of the American Civil Liberties Union.

Some hospitals also refused to see pregnant women when they did not have an established relationship with physicians on staff. If the court nullifies or weakens those protections, it could result in more hospitals turning away patients without fear of penalty from the federal government, she said.

“The government knows there’s a problem and is investigating and is doing something about that,” Kolbi-Molinas said. “Without EMTALA, they wouldn’t be able to do that.”

--------------

The Repeal of Roe V Wade has been a disaster for pregnancy health care, with doctors turning away pregnant women just because they are pregnant out of fear that treatment might violate ever changing extreme and unscientific abortion bans

The Biden Administration's strong stand that EMTALA does cover emergency abortion care has forced hospitals to keep their doors open to people in need. A Republican administration would not enforce the law this way, Donald Trump has already said he'd leave it up to the states and certainly would drop the Biden Administration's law suit against Idaho's restrictive laws.

as horrible as all this is, it can always get worse, this is a preview of what a national Republican Abortion ban would mean for every pregnant person going to the hospital, you or someone you love could be left bleeding in a waiting room.

#abortion #miscarriage #death #health care #health care rights #supreme court

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pwrn51 · 1 year

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Dementia Family Caregiver Educator and Advocate

Today’s guest is Dr. Brittany Lamb an Emergency Room Physician, Blogger, Dementia Family Caregiver Educator and Advocate, and Owner of B.LambMD. Dr. Brittany Lamb discusses how important it is to be educated about your loved one’s diagnosis, to have a medical directive, and to be proactive in getting Power of Attorney for Medical and Financial affairs! Dr. Brittany discusses her support…

View On WordPress

#kickalzheimersassmovement #Betsy Wurzel #Caregivers #Dementia Advocate #Dr. Brittany Lamb #Emergency Room Physician #ER Physician #Families Grieving #Finances #Make Your Plan with Dr.Lamb #Power of Attorney #PWTRN #Resources

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heard-in-the-emergency-room · 7 months

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Patient: I was told I would get a room upstairs! That was hours ago! What is taking so long?

Provider: ma’am, bed placement is working on your admission bed. It depends on how many beds are available in the hospital and whether we have enough staff to care for all the patients on that floor

Patient: so I should go up there and be a Karen to move things along?

Provider: ma’am no amount of being a Karen will make a bed available faster, I assure you

#heard in the emergency room #heardintheemergencyroom #emergency medicine #medical humor #physician assistant #doctor #beingakaren #being a Karen

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oftenwantedafton · 4 months

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A New Afton - Stepfather Steve Raglan/William Afton x Stepdaughter Reader

Chapter 3

Rating - Explicit

Warnings - sexual content, daddy kink, praise kink, food kink

Also available on AO3

taglist @yellowbunnydreams

You glance at the digital display on the alarm clock beside your bed and groan internally. You haven’t slept a wink and it’s time to get up for school.

A quick shower. You’d forgotten to iron your uniform. The pleats of the skirt don’t lie flat. Your blouse is rumpled. You frown at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. Your sclera are bloodshot, the fragile skin beneath your eyes smudged. You can hear your stepfather making coffee in the kitchen.

“Good morning, Princess.”

Steve has transformed back into the geeky social worker version of himself. Striped shirt, matching tie with a small diamond pattern. Gold framed aviators dominating much of his face.

“Hi,” you greet him. You don’t really feel like eating. You start to sit across from him but he clucks his tongue.

“Too far away. Why don’t you sit here,” he begins to drag out the chair your mother usually occupies, then stops. “Or better yet right here.” He pats one long stretch of thigh invitingly.

You stand uncertainly. The chair legs scrape across the floor. Last night, there had been a kind of aura around you. A moment when you’d just surrendered and enjoyed it. The sunlight spilling through the kitchen window this morning feels too bright, too cheerful. It contradicts the dark secret you’d shared with your stepfather last night.

You approach the seated man and sit gingerly on the offered perch. His arm slides around your waist, holding you against him. How neatly he’d just shoved your mother’s place aside to make room for you.

“How are you feeling? You look tired.”

“I didn’t sleep well.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Did you?”

“Like a rock.” He grins wolfishly at you and you wonder how his conscience is so clear and carefree. Did he feel any remorse at all for cheating on his wife with her daughter? “Stay home today, if you want. I’ll call the school office and write you a note for tomorrow.”

“I…I think I’d like to stay home, yes.” You can’t process sitting through classes today. Trying to concentrate on schoolwork. The image of Steve looking up at you as you’d climaxed in his mouth won’t leave your mind, playing on an endless loop. You’d halfway been expecting him to come to your room in the middle of the night. Hoping for another taste of that mouth. Wishing he’d put some part of his body on yours. Inside yours. Your eyes stray to your mother’s reading glasses tucked into the basket on the table and guilt wrenches your stomach.

“Alright then. Consider it done. I’ll make us dinner when I get home tonight, okay? Whatever you want.”

You nod. You stare at his lips. You wish he’d kiss you. You’re not brave enough to make a move yourself.

The older man glances at the clock on the stove and sighs. “I have to leave now. Let me get that note written before I forget and I’ll give the school a call.” He pats your knee and you leave the warmth of his lap. One last sip of coffee and then he withdraws one of the notebooks out of your backpack resting on the counter, tearing out a blank page near the back. He has a pen in his shirt pocket: silver, slender, heavy looking. His handwriting is precise cursive. He folds the note and tucks it into the folder on the inside of the front cover, then slips it back into your bag. He retrieves the number for your school from the fridge. It’s there among a list of emergency contact numbers, important sequences like your physician and the office your parents work at.

You pick up Steve’s coffee cup and rinse it, setting it on the sink mat. His voice on the phone is warm, concerned, convincing. He folds his jacket over his arm and lifts his briefcase, reserving one hand to lift your chin. His thumb presses on the shallow divot below your bottom lip. You will him to kiss you, pleased when your desire is fulfilled. He tastes like hazelnut coffee.

“Have a good day, sweet girl.”

The front door closes behind him.

***

The phone rings around noon. Your stepfather is on his lunch break.

“How are you feeling? Did you get any rest?”

“Yes.” You had. You’d undressed and closed the blinds and gone right back to bed. You have an appetite again. For food. For him.

“That’s great. Have you given any thought to what you want for supper?”

You want something sweet. The breakfast meal you’d missed this morning. “Pancakes.”

He hums in amusement. You love his voice in your ear. “Pancakes, huh? I can manage that.”

“You don’t mind?”

“Not at all.” You can hear him grinning from here. “I’ll try to be home as soon as I can. Maybe wrap things up a little early. My afternoon client load looks a little sparse today.”

“Okay, Daddy.”

He huffs into the receiver, a pleased sound. “That’s my good girl. See you soon.”

The lustful ache within you flares to life once more.

***

William Afton returns home three hours later to find you on the living room couch. You’re wearing seersucker pajamas with a small strawberry print and lettuce edge ruffles. He likes these dainty, feminine things you wear. Better than something overtly adult like lace or satin. They still retain a sense of innocence and youth that arouses him.

He enjoys how your gaze is always heavy on him, as if you’re mesmerized, captivated. You can’t seem to look away. You can’t conceal the want.

He bends to kiss your mouth, threads his fingers through your hair. A weaker man would surrender right then and ravage you. But he’s not a weak man. He takes his time removing his work clothes and steps into the shower. A few quick lazy strokes of his erection, just a little tease of the pleasure he’ll be receiving from you later. Loose pajamas that don’t entirely conceal his firm cock, this material thinner than what he’d worn last night.

He returns to the kitchen and begins preparing the meal. You hover in the doorway, watching him gather ingredients and utensils.

“You really can cook,” you say.

He glances at you mid leveling off a measuring cup and smiles. “They’re only pancakes.”

“But you know what you’re doing. Like, you’ve got practice. The way you’re handling things. I don’t know how to phrase it.” You frown at him. “You owned a restaurant once, right?”

William nods. “I did.” The flour spills into the batter bowl. “Actually, I’ll let you in on a little secret if you promise not to tell anyone. I mean anyone,” he emphasizes.

“Okay, I promise.”

“I still own it. It’s been closed for years, but I just couldn’t bring myself to let it go.”

He dusts his hands off and walks over to you. “You should visit with me some time. It’s not an ordinary restaurant. There’s an arcade. Animatronics. A lot of very interesting things I could show you.” He plants a kiss on your jaw and nibbles your ear lobe. He feels you shiver.

***

You stare at the array of toppings available before you. Steve had stopped at the store on the way home and had gotten some groceries. Whipped cream, strawberries, blueberries. There’s also powdered sugar and butter and chocolate and maple syrup.

“Wow. You really went all out.”

“If you’re going to do something, you should commit one hundred percent to the task at hand.”

He picks up one of the strawberries freshly rinsed in the colander and walks over to you. “Open your mouth,” he instructs gently. The texture from the external seeds is rough against your bottom lip as he sits the fruit there. Your lips part and he pushes it forward, your teeth sinking into it. A burst of sweetness and tartness sparks along your taste buds as the offering moves over your tongue.

Your stepfather makes a little satisfied humming sound, his eyes transfixed by the movement of your mouth as he consumes the remainder. There’s a slight red stain from the juice you notice tucked into the nail bed of his index finger and your mouth waters.

You sit at the kitchen table, in your mother’s usual seat, this time without any prompting. Your bare foot touches Steve’s as he settles into the chair beside you, setting plates with a stack of the griddlecakes before each of you. It’s just a gentle brush of skin against skin but you feel it strike you like a matchstick scraping red phosphorus, igniting your core.

The pancakes are delicious—light, fluffy. You chew around a forkful smothered in chocolate syrup and whipped cream and strawberries and your eyes stray to the older man’s bare scarred forearms, the sleeves he’d shoved up to his elbows when he’d started preparing the meal still gathered around the crease of his arms. Your stepfather has opted for the more traditional butter and maple syrup—the real kind, not that synthetic chemical laden variety—and you watch fascinated as he swallows in large bites, making short work of what’s in front of him. You wonder if he’s starving, or if it’s simply the way a man consumes things, because everything with a man is larger, stronger, more aggressive…

“Is it good?” His eyes haven’t moved from your face.

“Yes, Daddy. Thank you.”

His lips twitch. “You’re welcome, baby girl. Do you want more?”

“I’m full.”

“Are you?” A full on smirk and your stomach flutters. “I’m not.” He stands, offering a hand to you. You let him pull you to your feet. He slides his fingers into the hair at the nape of your neck, tugging your head back gently. “Did you miss me today, Princess?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you say softly. Your pussy is absolutely throbbing. Just like flicking a light switch, he’s got you instantly worked up.

“Good girl. I missed you, too.” He releases his hold of you, arm sweeping across the island still dotted with ingredients and cookware and utensils to clear a space for you, some of the items falling to the linoleum. “Let’s get you up here, hmmm? Take everything off.”

Your heart thuds in your chest. You pull your pajama top off, hearing the whistle of air sucked into Steve’s lungs. The bottoms and your panties follow. You leave everything in a pile on the floor. Calloused hands wrap around your waist and he lifts you easily, sitting you on the end of the counter. The surface is cool against your heated skin.

“Lie back, sweet girl.” You obey, gasping slightly when the granite touches your bare shoulder blades as you recline supine along the length of the island, your legs dangling off the end of the counter.

Steve’s warm hand drags over your naked body admiringly, caressing you from knee to hip, kneading the curve of one breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers and tugging slightly.

“Where to even begin…” The bearded man sighs heavily, as if the dilemma is a weighty one. You hear him lift something from the counter above your head.

It’s the maple syrup.

He unscrews the cap then tips the glass bottle at an angle. The amber liquid within begins to spill out and he drizzles it over your torso, the first drops pattering against your collarbone, then across one breast, trailing a stripe down your abdomen, letting it pool in your umbilicus.

His eyes are lidded. He looks drunk off the sight of you, completely intoxicated by your naked body lying there sticky sweet beside him. When his face descends for that first kiss along the stretch of bone near your throat you think you’ve rocketed straight to heaven; try to mentally prepare yourself for the torment of hell your sin warrants.

You feel the rasp of that muscular organ stroke along the liquid nectar he’s just poured there, a slow, incessant drag. He lingers over your breast, sucking on your nipple and your back arches, your hand reaching to thread through his hair. You’re whimpering already and he’s barely begun.

Your stepfather moves from the side of the island to the end, dipping down once again to lav at the sweetness gathered in the divot above your mound, one hand caressing the back of your knee. You’re torn between craning your neck to watch what he’s doing and letting your head flop back against the hard surface, staring at the ceiling sightlessly while the man continues to lick you.

He kisses your abdomen and then he hooks his arms around your thighs, dragging you closer to him. You hear the scrape of one of the kitchen chairs as it’s pulled from its place beneath the table nearby and the older man settles into it, his fingers stroking your hips.

Then his mouth is finally there, where you need him most. You both moan together at that first taste. His tongue swirls around the bundle of nerves. Strokes between your lips and thrusts against your entrance, meeting resistance as the interior of that sacred place is still shielded with the skin that protects your virginity.

“Please…Daddy…I need…”

“What do you need, baby girl?” His breath is warm against the crook of your leg.

“I want…I want your fingers inside…”

Another gentle kiss. “It’s going to hurt.”

“I know,” you say softly. You’re afraid, but your desire for that forbidden destruction into your hollow is too strong.

“You’re sure you’re ready?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

He’s right. It does hurt.

It burns when that index finger—maybe the same strawberry juice stained one from earlier—thrusts forward. You can feel your body resisting the intrusion. His mouth covers your clit and it distracts you from the discomfort a little. He advances a bit further, and then abandons the gentle motion abruptly to finish stretching, tearing, driving his finger forward until it’s completely sheathed inside you. Like ripping a bandaid off, just getting it over with. You cry out. All of that supply of moisture from arousal seems to have been depleted, replaced now with hot, sticky blood. Steve extracts that digit and then shoves it right back in. Repeats the process. His tongue strokes along your lips. You feel saliva dripping down and it makes the passage of his finger easier. It burns and aches but beneath it, there’s something. An ease of tension. It feels better when you relax, when you let him fuck into you. You weave your fingers between the ones resting on your abdomen and he squeezes your hand.

“Good girl,” he murmurs.

You want to be a good girl. His good girl.

***

You never cease to surprise him.

William had thought he’d merely be eating you out on the kitchen counter but here you are, asking him to violate you. You’re so tight. It’s going to take a lot to work you open and grant him better access for more fingers and his fat prick in the future. That knowledge excites him.

He withdraws his finger and sucks the blood off of it. Metallic, musky, bitter. Eases the wet phalange back inside your canal. Sucks your clit and feels your body responding, relaxing. Curls the finger when he violates you again, seeking that sensitive spongy tissue. Your thighs tremor violently against his cheeks. A series of moans, whimpers, cries, as if you cannot decide on which sound to make. He loves pulling them out of you.

“Daddy…”

God, does that turn him on. His cock lurches at the title and he redoubles his efforts, letting his mouth grow more slack, letting saliva ooze over your cunt. He can tell you’re enjoying it again, the pain fading beneath the waves of pleasure. His tongue strokes outside and his finger plucks along your g spot and you cum, the hand holding his squeezing painfully but he enjoys it, tasting and feeling you come apart, lost in the haze of the feeling he creates deep within you.

William allows you time to recover, rising from his seat and walking to the side of the counter, bending to kiss you. Your mouth is slack, open, ready for him. He steals the breaths you gasp. Assists you down from the slab of granite and hugs you against him, his erection pressing along your lower spine. Your hands brace against the edge of the counter. He shoves the waistband of his pajama pants and briefs down, stroking that impatient rosy flesh. Wipes a smear of precum against the curve of your buttocks.

“You’re such a good girl for Daddy. Such a good daughter…” The words seem to come from a distant place, as if he is lost in the echos of a past memory.

He tugs until the pressure building within finally releases, a thick spray of hot seed painting your ass cheek. You turn in his arms and he kisses your mouth and that is how the meal concludes.

#william afton x you #william afton x reader #steve raglan x you #steve raglan x reader #william afton #steve raglan #fnaf fanfic #fnaf movie #dividers credit @saradika-graphics

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health-ecare · 8 months

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Emergency Physician Billing can be challenging with Surprise billing and other specifications.

No worries with ecare taking charge of your Emergency Physician Billing Services! Fix your Emergency Billing problems with ecare as your Billing Partner.

#emergency room physician billing #emergency physician billing services #physician medical billing services

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360-medical-billing-solutions · 2 years

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Challenges you face in Colorado Emergency Room Medical Billing

Emergency Physicians Billing Services are blessings for medical conditions, which need quick action like sudden illness or injury. Treating patients is a primary objective of Emergency Departments (ED), however, many of them fail to understand the challenges in colorado emergency room medical billing.

#emergency physician billing services #emergency room medical billing #colorado emergency room medical billing

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sarahowritesostucky · 4 months

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📖"Temporary Custody"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky; Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 3658

Tags: Dom/sub, bdsm au, dom Bucky, sub reader, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, gay sex'n'stuff, straight sex'n'stuff, Steve being a literal Golden Retriever, mental health issues, dub-con, forced submission, bakery au, m/f/m, gentle domination, total power exchange

Summary: The stigma and shame of being a submissive has kept Mary unfulfilled and in the closet her whole life, until an inciting incident leads to Bucky and Steve taking her in and giving her everything she was always too afraid to ask for.

Trigger warnings: This story contains background themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, self-harm, and alcohol abuse.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter of this fic! Story Masterpost

3. Cream filled Sponge Cakes (with chemicals)

Bucky

They plan out what they’re going to do when they get to the hospital on the car ride over.

“I think it’s best if you wait outside at first,” Bucky says, glancing away from the road for a second to try and gauge Steve’s reaction to this. He looks neutral. “Just because she’s already pissed,” he adds. “And it’ll probably be overwhelming having one person telling her they’re taking custody, let alone two.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees. “That makes sense.”

Bucky holds his hand out over the center console, waiting for Steve to take it. He does, and Bucky grips his hand tight. “I’ll get the initial stuff out of the way. I’m sure there’s gonna be a ton of paperwork.”

“What if she refuses?” Steve worries. “She can, right?”

Bucky sighs. “Yeah. I don’t have any legal hold on her. Yet. I’ll just have to try and talk sense into her, get her to see that we’re better than the alternative.”

Steve gives his hand a squeeze back. “You can do it.”

Bucky sighs. “I hope so. I really do.” Inside though, he’s already not so sure.

They get to the hospital about forty-five minutes after Bucky’d hung up from the phone call with the police officer. He spots a cruiser parked outside when they approach the emergency room, and it rankles his nerves to think of Mary being forcibly shoved into the back seat of said car.

He goes to the check in desk with Steve and asks for Officer Santiago. “I got a call about an involuntary hold. My submissive,” he says.

The woman at the desk does a double take at that, looking up and down Bucky where he stands like she’s just realized he’s a different species. “Oh,” she says. “You're one of those?”

Bucky ignores it, but he can sense Steve tensing up by his side, indignant on his behalf. “Yes,” he says. “I am.” He’s not going to waste time getting on his spiel about mental illness and stigmatization. They’ve got bigger problems right now. “I’m going to need her records,” he says, injecting authority into his tone. “And any paperwork for transfer of custody. The cops brought her in. Name’s Mary.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and tries to look self-assured while he waits, because he doesn’t know what he’ll do if the woman demands a last name.

It takes her several minutes to gather everything up for Bucky. She hands it all over to him and says, “That’s the paperwork for custody. The attending physician should be able to provide you with her medical workup.” She points to a set of double doors. “You go down that hallway and to the left. Bed number four.”

Bucky nods and thanks her, then turns to Steve.

“I know,” Steve says, putting on a brave smile. “I’ll wait here.”

“Baby.” Bucky steps close, pulling him into his arms. Steve’s physically just a little bigger than him, and Bucky has always liked the novelty of that. He kisses him gently and then rests their foreheads together for a moment, letting Steve feel their connection. “I love you,” he says quietly. “You’re the best thing I could ever hope for, you know that?”

Steve’s smile is more natural, now. “Yeah I know it.” He gives Bucky another kiss and stands back. “Hey, what about this?” He knocks on Bucky’s shoulder—the metal one. “She know about that?”

Bucky realizes that he’s not wearing his glove, and tries to remember if he’d had it on at the café. He frowns. “Oh well. I don’t think that’s going to be her main focus, not after I explain everything to her.”

“Yeah.” Steve gives him a light push. “I Love you. Now on and get the hard part over with. I’ll be here when you need me.”

Bucky nods. He knows he will. He goes back to the check in desk, one last question on his mind. “Is there a food court or something around here?”

Mary

Mary’s taken a break from saying pissy things to the cop who’s guarding her. She’s been so angry, she’s felt like her skin’s boiling. But now she’s starting to get tired, too. She hadn’t slept last night, just stayed up and gabbed on the phone to that crisis counselor.

She grits her teeth as she fumes about that, feeling betrayed all over again. That bitch had called the cops on her!

“You can tell me anything you want to. I’m here to listen, remember?”

Liar!

“I hope you know I don’t have insurance,” Mary snaps at the officer. He’s sitting in a chair in her little curtained off area. He regards her coolly, saying nothing, and she jerks her head to indicate the emergency room. “And I’m not paying a single red cent for any of this.” So far, they’ve taken her blood, her pulse, an EKG, and sent in nurses, a resident, and several shrinks. They’d tried to put an IV in her but she’d ripped it out as soon as nobody was looking. “I’m suing the hospital,” she adds. “And you. I’m suing the whole police department.”

“Okay,” Santiago says, annoyingly calm.

Mary growls, rattling her hand where it’s cuffed to the bed rail. “This is unconstitutional!”

There’s the sound of a throat clearing, and then the curtain to their area is being pulled aside. Mary’s eyes go wide when she sees who it is. “You?!”

Bucky smiles politely at her. “Me.” He steps into the curtained room, a little snack bag in his hand. He holds it up to show her, and she sees the Hostess logo. It’s a bag of little … sponge cake pastries. “Best I could do on such short notice. They’re for you, if you behave,” he says, talking to her like a pet being offered a treat.

Mary wrinkles her nose. “Pass. D’you even know all the chemicals they put in those things?”

Bucky shrugs and turns to offer them to officer Santiago, who more than happily accepts. Mary pouts as she watches him rip open the bag and stuff one in his mouth.

“How are you doing, Mary?”

She turns her attention to Bucky and scowls at the way he uses her name like he knows her. “Awful,” she says. She jerks her head at Santiago. “Officer Dickwad over here won’t let me have my phone.”

“Language,” Santiago says dispassionately, through a mouthful of cake.

“Shut up and eat your fucking donut, Rent’a’cop.”

Bucky

He puts his foot down once she starts flinging curses and insults at the officer. As a paramedic, Steve is always in and out of emergency rooms, often working in coordination with law enforcement to deal with uncooperative patients. So Bucky knows just how much drama and belligerence these guys have to deal with on the regular.

“Hey,” he says sternly. “Don’t disrespect him. He’s just doing his job.” He’s not mean about it, but it’s verging on what Steve likes to call his “Dom” voice, and Bucky can see how it affects Mary. She freezes up, all of her focus on him. For a few seconds, she even forgets to be angry. Bucky takes the opportunity to step close to the bed. He eyes where she’s cuffed to the rail. “Mary,” he says gently. “I know you don’t want to be here. I know you’re angry.”

“You’re damn right I am,” she growls. “They just showed up and threw me in a cop car! Didn’t even give me a choice!”

Bucky reaches out and places his hand atop her cuffed wrist. It’s his metal hand. Her eyes widen when she sees it, but she doesn’t pull away. “I know,” Bucky says. “And I’m sorry it happened that way. But do you understand why people were concerned for your safety?”

Her face tenses up as she tries to hold back some emotion (something tells Bucky it isn’t anger, this time). “They called the cops,” she pouts. “They lied to me.”

“They did,” Bucky agrees, wanting to placate her. “But you were hurting yourself, honey. And you were talking about doing worse, weren’t you?”

She can’t meet his eyes, instead staring at where he’s holding her wrist. “I … I talked about a lot of things,” she mumbles. “It was just talk. I don't even remember half of it. I didn’t … I wasn’t really gonna do anything.”

“Can you show me where you hurt yourself?” Bucky asks, careful to keep his voice gentle. “I want to see how bad it is.”

Mary shivers, shaking her head sadly. Her hair is loose and hanging messy around her face, so Bucky reaches up to tuck it behind her ear. He hears her give a quiet, shaky inhale. “Come on now,” he coaxes. “Let me see.”

For a long moment, it seems like she won’t obey, but then her shoulders sink down and she takes a deep breath and lets it out, whispering a tiny little. “... kay,” as her hands creep down to take hold of the tee shirt she’s wearing. It’s extra large, going all the way to her knees, and it’s all she’s wearing. Bucky doesn’t know if the police brought her in that way, or if it’s something the hospital gave her to put on after being examined, but either way, he schools his expression as she edges the tee shirt up her leg, higher and higher, until it becomes apparent that she is wearing underwear, and she’s bared her hip to him.

Cutting, then.

Bucky looks her over, not as upset by the fresh cuts so much as the old ones. They litter the skin of her upper thigh and hip—some so old they’re scars, some still in various stages of healing. Bucky forces himself not to touch, even though his brain is screaming at him to fix fix fix! There’s nothing here that can be fixed easily—certainly not with a bandaid. Bucky takes a moment to calm himself down before he asks, “How long have you been doing this, honey?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she whispers. She shoves the tee shirt back down and meets his eyes. “Why are you here?”

Moment of truth, Bucky thinks. “The police called me. They got my number from your phone. They wanted to call your Dom to come get you.”

She frowns, looking confused. “But … you’re not—”

“Officer Santiago,” Bucky says quickly, cutting her off. “Could you give us a moment alone please?”

“Sure.” Santiago gets up and takes his bag of cakes with him. “Just a couple’a minutes,” he warns, then steps outside the curtain and pulls it shut. Bucky can see as his shoes walk away.

“You told them you were my Dom?!” Mary hisses.

Bucky looks at her sternly. “No. They assumed I was. You had me in your phone.”

“I … I did?”

Bucky’s mouth quirks. “Yeah, you did.”

“Well that doesn’t mean anything,” she huffs. “I’m not even submissive.”

“I think you know that’s not true,” Bucky says. He reaches up and gathers her hair back in one fist and pulls—gently, just enough to put the barest of pressure on her scalp—forcing her to raise her chin. She visibly reacts to it, softening into his grip, eyes slipping closed and features going slack. “You like that,” Bucky says, making it a statement rather than a question, because it’s obvious she does.

Her eyes open slowly. “S’nothing. It doesn’t mean anything.”

He releases her hair, cupping the back of her neck instead. He grips her firmly in his hand, and this time she nearly moans, lips parting and the sound coming out before she can fully stifle it. Bucky’s mouth curls and he hums. “And that? Is that ‘nothing’ too?”

“Please.” She’s having a hard time maintaining eye contact, which is typical. There’s a little pinch between her eyebrows that’s so sweet and needy, Bucky wants to kiss it. It makes her look like she might cry, and that thrills him too. “Please,” she whispers. “I just wanna go home.”

“You’re not going home, Honey,” he tells her, keeping the grip on her neck steady and petting at her hair with his other hand. She’s going down a little, likely so easily because of the alcohol in her system, because of how deprived she’s been until now. She whines a little at his words and he shushes her. “They won’t let you. You’re either gonna have to let me take you, or else stay here in the hospital, in the psych ward.”

Mary whimpers. “No.”

“Shhh,” he soothes. “I know. I don’t want that for you either, but you have to make the choice. If you want to leave here, then you have to sign the paperwork that gives me custody of you.” He tilts her chin up. “Look at me now, Honey.” She’s sluggish, so it takes a second, but her eyes come up as she obeys. They’re a little glossy, pupils blown wide, and Bucky gives her neck an encouraging squeeze. “Good girl,” he praises.

She practically melts at hearing that. “Please …” she says again.

Bucky would bet money that she doesn’t know what she’s asking for. He does, though. He knows down to the marrow of his bones what a ‘please’ like that means. “Don’t worry, Doll. I’ll take care of you. I will.” He bends and pecks a kiss to her forehead, then steps away. She makes a weak noise of protest and he shushes her.

“I’m just gonna go get officer Santiago back. … And my husband, Steve.”

She blinks at the word ‘husband’. “Steve?” she repeats, shoulders shrinking as she pulls into herself. “But—”

“It’s okay,” Bucky promises. “He’s a very nice man. You’ll like him.”

Mary looks unsure. Bucky’s glad she’s down, otherwise he’s fairly certain she’d be arguing by now, maybe even pitching a fit and cursing. Instead, what comes out of her mouth is a hesitant little, “... He’s like you?”

“No. No he’s not designated. He’s—”

“Normal.” She says it so sadly, sounds so demoralized. Bucky has to fight the urge to correct her, to give her a speech about how, ‘just because they’re designated, it doesn’t make them abnormal’. He bites his tongue. What’s more important right now is that she’s making progress in accepting the reality that she’s almost certainly submissive.

“Yeah,” he says. “Steve’s not like us. But I wanted him to come in here and meet you. Do you think you can do that for me, Sweetie?” The pet names come naturally, are a part of his dynamic as a Dom, and Bucky can tell that she responds favorably to them. “Hm? Answer me, Mary.”

(And of course, the use of her name gets instant attention and obedience.)

“Okay,” she says. “Yes.”

He smiles and gives her a heartfelt, “Good girl,” wanting to show her that he’s pleased, that she’s doing well. “I’m gonna go get him, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Steve

Steve is equal parts excited and nervous to meet the woman Bucky has found, the woman they’re going to be taking care of. … Maybe more, if things work out.

He holds Bucky’s hand as he’s led back to where the emergency room beds are. Bucky draws back the curtain and Steve sees the cop sitting there, looking bored, … and her.

“Oh,” he breathes. “Hey.”

She’s pretty—which is saying a lot, because that’s Steve’s first thought, despite the state of her. She’s got goo gobs of dark eye makeup that it looks like she put on once she was already drunk, and by now it’s been smeared to kingdom come by tears and her own hands. Her hair sits messy and unbrushed around her shoulders, and her eyes are glazed and tired from a high that’s probably going to wear off soon and leave her looking even more exhausted than she already does.

“Hey,” Steve says, eyes flicking up and down her body where she’s sitting on the bed. She’s wearing nothing but a big tee shirt, and Steve allows himself one glance down at her shapely legs, then resolutely keeps his eyes trained upwards. She’s a disheveled mess, but even like that, Steve can see how she drew Bucky’s attention, that day in the café.

“Hi,” Mary says.

Steve smiles hopefully. By his side, Bucky squeezes his hand in encouragement, and offers, “Mary, this is Steve, my husband.”

Steve watches her face, curious to know what she thinks of Bucky being married. He’s expecting displeasure maybe, imagining that a submissive would feel jealous or upset, if their prospective Dom was already attached to someone else.

But she seems to stay calm, sitting there and taking Steve in with slow blinks, even looking a little bit shy herself. “... You’re big,” she eventually says. “I thought you’d be smaller than him.”

Steve grins and he hears Bucky’s scoffed, “Size has nothing to do with our dynamic.”

Steve knows he’s got half an inch on Bucky, more muscle mass too, but he’s never felt bigger than his husband. Bucky’s personality, his dominance, is larger than Steve.

Mary’s still staring at him, a thoughtful little pinch between her eyebrows. Steve waits in expectation of a question, but none comes. “What?” he asks. He pulls up the room’s extra plastic chair and sits close to the bed, offering her his hand. He’s surprised when she takes it. Steve stares thoughtfully at his hand as she drags her fingers over his fingers, his palm, still not saying anything. He looks over at Bucky, concerned. “Did they give her drugs?”

Thankfully, Bucky chuckles and shakes his head. “She’s down,” he explains.

Oh. Okay. That’d explain her calm affect. Steve had come in here halfway expecting a screaming hellcat. He hadn’t expected this. He turns back to Mary, giving her a friendly look. “Did you have questions you wanted to ask me?”

She bites her lip, clearly working something out in her head. “Bucky said you two have a ‘dynamic’.”

“He did.”

“But he said you’re normal.”

Steve’s lips thin once he figures out what she means. “We’re all normal,” he scolds. “But no, I don’t have ‘Dominant or Submissive Personality Disorder’, if that’s what you mean.” He puts sarcastic quotes around words to clearly convey his distaste for the classification. He wants her to know how ridiculous he finds it.

“Babe,” Bucky warns quietly from behind. “We’re not getting political right now, okay? Just focus on her, on what we have to do.”

“Right, sorry.” He knows that Bucky’s right, so he tries again, telling Mary, “I’m ‘normal’, but Bucky and I still have a very intimate relationship together. We’re husbands. So yeah, we’ve developed our own dynamic. When I’m with him I tend to follow his lead, so to speak.” He smiles and shrugs. “It works for us.”

Mary looks like she’s thinking this new information over. There’s a slowness to her, a dreaminess in her expressions and her reactions.Steve figures it’s a combination of her being down, and not being sober. In fact, he can smell the vodka leaking out of her pores. It’s actually pretty horrible. “So does that make sense?” he prods her gently. “Mary?”

“… Yeah, I think so.” She eyes him up and down, looking back and forth between him and Bucky. “What will you do?” she asks Steve. She blushes a little from asking the question, so he deduces that she’s asking what he’ll do with her; what their dynamic together will be, outside of her and Bucky.

“I’ll take care of you,” he says, because that’s all he knows for sure, and he wants her to feel safe. Steve knows that it’s absolutely crucial for this woman to feel safe right now, if they’re going to take her home with them. “Bucky and I both will.” He holds her hand—the one that isn’t cuffed to the bed—enveloping it between his. “It’ll be much better than staying here,” he promises. “You’ll be so safe. And much happier.”

Mary’s body draws in, seems to actually get smaller as she pulls back into herself. “I’m never happy,” she says mournfully. It hurts Steve’s heart to see it, so he knows it must be killing Bucky, given his overly protective instincts. Steve glances over at him. “Babe?”

Bucky has a clipboard full of papers, which Steve knows must be the custody orders. “Here, Honey,” he tells Mary, handing her the clipboard and the pen. “This is what you have to sign to be able to come home with us.”

It kind of bothers Steve that Bucky doesn’t encourage her to read through the documents more thoroughly, but he doesn’t say anything because he knows they have only the best intentions for her. She’ll be safe with them. He watches as she signs her signature in the places Bucky points out, trying to scan some of the fine print as she goes. Anxiety is written across her face and she starts to bite at the chapped skin on her bottom lip. “But, um … what if I’m not what you think?” she worried, not looking at either of them.

Bucky pets her hair and reassures her. “You are, sweetheart. Trust me. And we’re gonna take you to a therapist anyway, to get an official diagnosis.”

Normally Steve would be scoffing at the word “diagnosis,” but he’s too busy watching the two of them together. There’s a strange feeling in his gut, at seeing his husband touch Mary like that, at hearing him call her pet names and calmly take control of her. Steve’s never seen Bucky dom another person before, and he … he kind of doesn’t hate it. In fact, it’s actually making him feel all the more attracted to Bucky, and curious about Mary. Like he wants to help, wants to get to know her.

She signs the rest of the documents without making a fuss, so Steve figures he’ll be getting that chance.

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Square G5: Dom!Bucky Barnes

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writing-for-marvel · 1 year

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Triage

[He’s Hazardous To My Health Series]

Paramedic!Bucky Barnes x Resident!Fem!Reader

Series Masterlist | PART 2 > >

Summary: A slightly reckless and exceedingly charming paramedic carries a young girl into your ER, proving that not all superheroes wear capes.

Warnings: strictly 18+ due to the AU, set in an emergency room, I am not a healthcare worker and my medical knowledge is limited to what I’ve seen in Greys Anatomy lol, incident where people are injured from a derailed train, mentions of wounds & surgery & loss of life, injuries to a young child, needles & stitching, my terrible attempt at writing flirty banter

Word count: 3.2k

A/N: based off the winner of this poll, we say hello to paramedic!Bucky ❤️ this is my first entry for the Connect 4: Into an Alternate June-iverse Event by @buckybarnesevents, fulfilling the prompt ‘First Responder AU’. Thank you to @rookthorne who looked this over for me and gave me the confidence to keep writing it 🩵 banners by @vase-of-lilies

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“Incoming trauma. Train collided with a car and derailed. First wave ETA three minutes.”

At the moment your director of emergency medicine announces the tragedy and flood of imminently arriving patients, the televisions in the emergency room switch to breaking news - a presenter, wearing a solemn expression, speaks as a split screen shows what you can only describe as a colossal catastrophe.

The ER becomes silent as all eyes focus on the screens, only the rhythmic beeping of the pulse oximeters cut through the silence, a heavy weight blanketing the room as the realisation of what you’re seeing sets in.

You can’t hear what precisely he’s saying, but you can’t bring yourself to look away whilst watching the live chopper vision of smoke billowing from the train laying unnaturally on its side, barely any movement from the scene makes you wonder if anyone could have survived the incident.

The three minutes before the ambulances arrive go by in a flash, feeling like you hardly have time to mentally prepare for the extent of injuries and potential loss of life you will be facing. Then, almost in an instant, as if flicking a switch, chaos in its purest form descends upon the emergency room.

You watch on as paramedics and firefighters wheel patients in on gurneys, one by one filling up the limited trauma beds in the ER. Dr Stephen Strange directs medical personnel, making sure each case is assigned to an appropriate physician, the more serious injuries bypassing trauma intake all together and heading straight towards surgery.

Your eyes land on one man in particular between the sensory overload of people - tall, broad shoulders with long chestnut hair, carrying a young girl with one strong arm as he pushes a gurney with the other. Who you can only assume is the girl's mother, is unconscious and has blood staining the roots of her long blonde hair. Your heart aches for them as she’s handed over to the surgery team in wait, and even though the ER is filled with many conflicting loud voices, you hear the high pitched cry of the young girl for her mommy. The paramedic, now with his second arm free, pulls her into his chest before making his way to one of the trauma beds.

“You!” Dr Strange’s voice pulls your attention back to the fray and you find he’s pointing directly to you - you’ll forgive him for forgetting the name of a new resident during this moment of crisis. “The young girl with Barnes, she’s your responsibility.” That’s all the instruction he has time for before moving onto the next resident.

As you make your way through the maze of people towards the young girl, your mind flashes back to the footage of the wreckage and how grim it appeared. It seems like a miracle that this young girl is conscious and looks relatively unharmed with the exception of a few abrasions.

“I’m the one who brought her in, she’ll be all alone while her mother is in surgery, all I’m asking is to stay with her while she gets examined.” The well-built paramedic, Barnes, argues with your head nurse, pride and admiration swelling warm in your chest - he’s standing up for a scared, young girl who can’t voice what she needs right now.

“That’s perfectly fine.” You cut in, knowing Christine is a stickler for protocol and would never allow non-family members to stay with patients, even in dire circumstances. If there is a time to bend the rules slightly, you figure this is it. “I think she feels a lot more comfortable with you here anyway, isn’t that right sweetie?” The young girl nods her head, little hands reaching out to grab hold of the paramedics’ large one, eyes brimming with frightened tears.

“Thank you.” He mouths as Christine storms off to deal with the many other patients that require her attention. Your focus now switches to the precious girl in front of you - no matter how hectic the ER gets, how devastating the incident is, your thoughts need to be directed solely on her care, and not ogling at the attractive EMT who is currently soothing her.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” You ask the scared, little girl, but not before offering your own as a sign of good faith. She looks up to Barnes for reassurance before answering.

“Sasha.” She confesses with a small voice, partially hiding her face in the broad paramedic’s arm as she does so.

“Okay Sasha, I’m here to check you over, help patch up these cuts and make sure you have no other injuries so we can get you up to see your mommy as soon as possible. Can I do that for you?” She nods her head, sitting up a little straighter in the bed all the while maintaining a tight hold on Barnes’ hand.

“Can you tell me who your friend here is, Sasha?” You ask as you start your examination, feeling the medics’ pair of eyes watching you intently, something more than just concern for your patient's well-being has heat creeping up your chest to the tips of your ears in silent attraction.

“Bucky. He pulled me from the train.”

“All by himself? Wow, he must be super strong to do that.” You glance up at Bucky to find him staring at you with what you hope is a mixture of captivation and endearment. He offers an enchanting smile, making butterflies, which have no right to exist in an emergency room, flutter in your stomach.

“He also got my mommy too.” Sasha adds, you suspect with the youthful intent to impress you even more.

“As well!” You say in a dramatic tone which makes her beam a proud smile that she did in fact amaze you. “Sasha, I think you got rescued by a real life superhero.” You continue in a staged whisper that not only has Sasha giggling, but brings a flush to Bucky’s cheeks. The bashful blush only makes him more attractive in your eyes.

As you continue your examination, cleaning and bandaging all lacerations, keeping Sasha distracted by asking about her favourite activities and animals, you can progressively feel her opening up and trusting you more. From your experience, it can be difficult to earn a child’s trust when they are in such a foreign place, surrounded by strangers, and in particular in this scenario, when a parent isn’t around. Having Bucky, whom she formed a bond with as soon as he rescued her from the train, stay by her side through the ordeal, has been to both your benefit.

Once you cleaned all her cuts, making sure Bucky held her hands so Sasha could squeeze when the disinfectant caused a sharp, stinging sensation, you begin examining her stomach, prodding her abdomen for any signs of tenderness.

“Does that hurt, Sasha?” You enquire when she flinches and whines at your touch.

“Yes, right there.” You're proud she trusts you enough to admit that, though now concerned about potential internal bleeding. You need to act fast, but you don’t want to instil more fear in her given she’s already had a large dose today.

“Okay, it’s nothing to worry about yet, but I’m going to order you a scan so we can see what’s going on in your tummy.” Your eyes flick instinctively to Bucky, to provide some consolation in a time where you’re both worried about the young girl you’ve both become attached to in such a short time. You see the considerable concern furrowed in his brow soften when his eyes meet yours.

“Will it hurt?” Sasha’s frightened voice breaks your heart - she’s had to endure enough pain and suffering for the day, watching her mother cling to life in an ambulance, you’re desperate not to add to it.

“Not at all, it’s as painless as having your picture taken!” You explain, watching the alarm melt from her features, and feeling the tension in Bucky’s shoulders relax simultaneously. “All you have to do is stay really, really still, can you do that for Bucky and I?” The notion that there is a Bucky and you makes something in your chest buoyant.

“Yes!” She promises without missing a beat and Bucky squeezes her small hands with a relieved smile.

When Sasha’s attention turns to the nurse whose job it is to take her up for the scan, you notice Bucky discretely wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. He says a sweet goodbye before she’s wheeled away, knowing this is where a paramedic and hospital patient part ways. Sasha enthusiastically waves back to both of you as the nurses wheels her away, not stopping until they turn a corner and she’s completely out of sight.

Bucky clears the lump in his throat before stating, “I think it’s my turn to leave now.”

“Don’t think I can’t see you wincing every time you move. Sit your cute butt down, you aren’t going anywhere till I check you over too.” You say as you finish completing the form to refer Sasha for the CT scan, missing the downright cheeky smirk plastered on Bucky's face.

“You think I have a cute butt, huh?” You can hear the smugness in his voice and you have to fight the corners of your mouth from upturning in a smile. He does have a cute butt - not that you’ve been staring - but you’re certainly not admitting that to his gorgeous face.

“Not the point - now, shirt off so I can take a look.” Finishing your paperwork, you finally look up to notice his cocked head and flirty smile. Having studied long hours in med school and worked even longer hours all last year as an intern, you recognise it’s been a while since a stranger has looked at you with this level of desire.

“At least buy me dinner before you ask to see me naked.”

“I’m a doctor, I’m sure it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” You challenge, even though you’re positive his strapping frame, which fills out his uniform completely, will be even more impressive without a shirt. You have to swallow the saliva forming in your mouth so you quite literally don’t drool at the thought of his unclad body.

“Why don’t we find an on-call room and I can prove to you it’s not.” He teases in a low, alluring voice and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself smiling like an idiot - it, however, does not stop your face from warming like a heating pad. It’s infuriating how beautiful he is, and it’s definitely criminal to act as cocky as he is right now.

“Only if you let me patch you up first.” You bargain.

Bucky finally concedes, unbuttoning and shrugging off his uniform shirt to reveal a wound in his side about the length of a teaspoon which is still trickling blood. The tightening concern which overwhelms your body at the sight of the gash, which is much worse than you predicted he’d be concealing and will require stitches, distracts you from the allure of seeing his shirtless chest.

You shake your head, knowing he would have been fully aware he was injured since pulling Sasha and her mom from the train, and in an incredible amount of pain, but waited until others received treatment before allowing himself to be tended to.

“You should have told me about this.” Tentatively you place gauze over the cut, gently applying pressure to stop the oozing but not firm enough where he’s in pain. You can feel his attentive eyes following your every careful move, and maybe it’s just your imagination, but you swear you can hear his breath hitch in his throat and feel his thumping heartbeat quicken as your hands graze his bare skin.

“There are many people in need of more urgent care than me.”

You look up at him from your position tending to his abdomen to find his face intimately close to yours. You can’t help yourself, being this close to him, but your eyes flicker to his lips, noticing a faint scar along his top lip you could only perceive by being this close.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve it at all.”

Bucky gazes deeply into your eyes with a vulnerability which makes you doubt whether anyone has ever appraised him that he is worth taking care of. The thought feels like a punch to your gut.

“It’s relatively superficial, I can look after it myself.” He attempts to brush you off. If this weren’t your first time meeting the guy, and you didn’t feel like you were overstepping by protesting, you wouldn’t let him dismiss you so easily. “Can’t you overlook protocol this one time and give me the okay to get back out in the field? We are still looking through the wreckage for survivors, need all hands on deck” He flashes you wide, puppy dog eyes which have you melting at the knees. You suspect this isn’t the first time he’s used this ploy to get what he wants.

As if he can sense your resolve dissolving the longer you look in his mesmerising eyes, he starts to stand. But no, you aren’t going to let those ocean blues and infectious smile stop you from doing your job, and showing Bucky that his well-being is just as important as anyone else who came into the ER today. Placing your hands on his bare, broad shoulders, you push him back down onto the bed.

“You won’t be able to help anyone when you’re back in here with sepsis because this wound got infected.” You comment as you prepare the suture kit and implements you’ll need to first clean out the wound.

“At least that way I’d be able to see you again.” He jests, before sharp intake of breath as you begin disinfecting and debriding the laceration.

Even though you realise he’s joking, hopefully only about not taking care of his wound properly and not about wanting to see you again, you suspect there’s a small sliver of truth he’s hiding. There typically is a grain of truth in every joke - he seriously would have returned to the scene without receiving treatment if you hadn’t stopped him, twice.

“You don’t need the excuse of a life threatening illness to see me again. In fact, I would prefer it that way.”

Bucky eyes you with fondness as you finish up washing out his wound, even through the sharp sting and you expressing your disapproval of his careless actions. You’re not sure what you’ve done to deserve the warmth in his gaze, but you enjoy it nonetheless.

Once the area is numbed, you can instantly sense the ease which overcomes Bucky at no longer being in discomfort. Though the grunts and groans that slipped past his lips were rather sexy, you much rather seeing him in an absence of pain.

The two of you stay in comfortable silence as you lend all your attention to the placement and execution of each stitch, knowing that if you do a good enough job, a wound this size will heal to an almost imperceptible scar. Though it’s difficult, you restrain your focus from how the taut muscles of his stomach flex as you're working.

“Alright, almost good as new.” Is what you comment once you’ve thrown the last stitch and placed a bandage over the area. “You’re ready to get back to being a real life superhero.” You tease, knowing the effect the word had on him last time. You’re pleased to see that same blush bloom lightly over his high cheekbones.

“Thanks for lookin’ after me, doc.” Bucky shows his gratitude with a lopsided smile you could get so used to basking in. As he buttons up his shirt, you allow your eyes to linger on his clearly defined abs for a second before they’re covered over. He really has no right to be as gorgeous and charming as he is. “And for being such a bright light in what has otherwise been a very dark day.”

“Same to you, Bucky.” Guilt eats away at a small part of you that during what is for a lot of people in this hospital such a tragic day, you’ve instead actually enjoyed the company of a cheeky paramedic.

“Take care of Sasha for me, won’t you?”

“She’s in the best hands.”

“I don’t doubt that for a minute.” He says with a tone which makes you think he’s only referring to you, when you were in fact meaning the entire hospital staff. Your heart flutters at the implication.

When neither of you say anything more, silence lingering for an almost awkward length, Bucky turns to leave. Even though you know you eventually must part ways, your heart aches that the end has seemingly come so soon. Luckily, you have a reason to call him back and spend an extra moment together.

“Hang on, you need to sign a release form before you’re allowed to go.” You say, hand brushing his as you provide a clipboard and pen, a shiver running up your arm which you hope Bucky doesn’t notice. If he does, he doesn’t mention it as instead he quickly surveils the document and chuckles.

“If you wanted my phone number, all you had to do was ask.” Damn him and that cheeky, smug grin you’re already falling for.

“This is purely protocol.” You counter, wanting to take his cocky persona down a peg. Bucky simply smirks, as if he can easily see through your half-truth like glass.

“So you’re telling me you don’t want my number?” He challenges, and though you don’t want to admit he’s won this back and forth between the two of you, you’ll consider yourself a winner as long as you come away with a means of contacting him after today.

“I didn’t say that.”

He hands you back the clipboard, a corner of the sheet torn off with his number scribbled specifically for you to take. You try not to look too desperate by taking the note immediately and putting it in your pocket as you plan on doing as soon as he isn’t watching you.

“The next time I see you, I hope we won’t be in an emergency room.” The suggestion there will be a next time makes giddiness rise in your chest as if you’re a schoolgirl with a crush.

“Don’t count your luck, James.” You tease, having spied his true first name on his patient form. “I haven’t called yet.” You try to sound calm, even though you can feel your heartbeat quickening the longer those captivating blue eyes regard your every move.

“I have a feeling you will, even if it is just to tell me Sasha’s pulled through alright,” Bucky pauses, slowly leaning in so you have a perfect view of his exquisite eyes, and his dilated pupils, as he lowers his voice. “Or for a rain check on that on-call room rendezvous.” He calls your bluff before flashing what you’re now sure is his signature smirk, leaving you with a fluttering heart and butterflies in your stomach.

As you watch Bucky walk out the exit of the ER, turning to shoot you a wink before the door closes behind him, you know three things for certain: firstly, you’ll definitely call him tomorrow, secondly, this man is going to utterly ruin you, and finally, you’re going to let him.

Part 2 > >

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