#keen for peen

[magnoliaalchemist]

left a voicemail at work today and instead of saying we had organicgirl baby spinach i said we had babygirl spinach so clearly i’ve been on this site too long

[monstersflashlight]

do you have anything about some sort of reptile-based monster that involves hemipenes? i think it’s a very cool way to do double penetration with only one top

A/N: First part of this was one of the stories in the 10k followers event (find it here). Enjoy!

Lizard-brain: the research

Lizardman x fem!reader || double penetration, hemi-peens, tail play, light choking, exhibitionism, dirty talk (low key)

When he pulled out, you felt your holes twitching at the same time a mechanical voice said from the speakers: “You did well, researcher, very interesting data was recorded.” Shit, you forgot there were people watching and probably saw you get fucked within an inch of your life. All your coworkers just watched you getting double creampied by a giant lizard-man. Great.

You were allowed to go home after that, your boss telling you to go clean yourself and the next day you could go over the data with them. Your lizard mate wasn’t happy about it, but he complied knowing he could see you the next day. You felt many emotions when you left the place, not ready to name any of them, you only showered and went to sleep, your body sore in the best way possible.

You arrived to the facility next day, and the first thing your boss said was: “We need you to do it again,” you looked at them confused, what the fuck did they mean.

“What?” You asked, looking at the monitors in the wall to try catch a sight of your mate.

He explained some of the data they collected, but how it was still very early in the research to know for sure, that’s why they said: “We need more data, and you are his mate after all.” You looked at him with understanding, your scientific brain already working all the possible conclusions of all the data collected so far and how much more you could know if you kept it. But also...

“I need to talk to him about this,” you told them. You had feelings for a big monster, and he considered you his mate, there was a lot of possible ethical problems there.

“Oh yes, it talks. True.” They said, but like it didn’t matter at all.

That infuriated you, but you swallowed your complaints, trying to understand why you felt so protective over him. And then it clicked, mate bonds weren’t only one way, he felt the mate bond, but you felt it back. You cemented your bond with sex and now you felt tied to him the same way he was tied to you. That realization should have scared you, but only made your stomach flip with butterflies. You had a mate. And that came with a new goal in mind: demonstrate that lizard-people could go outside and live like equals to humans. That started with proving your mate bond was true and necessary, scientifically. And if that meant to be fucked in front of some researcher, so be it.

The talk with your mate went as well as expected. He was more than okay with the idea of fucking you again, but not so keen on the idea of other people being there. But the head researcher insisted it was important for somebody to be in the room with you to catalog fine movements and reactions that cameras couldn’t capture. You agreed with them on that, that’s the only reason you accepted (nothing to do with the fact that you might or might not have a bit of an exhibitionist kink).

And that’s why you were naked over a medical bed with your lizard-man mate over your body and a researcher standing a few meters away. Your pussy was already wet, needy and desperate to be filled to the brim again. Your lizard mate was looking at you intensely, caressing your body with one hand as he jerked his upper dick with the other. You knew this position meant big dick downstairs, and you were already anticipating the stretch.

He approached you and rubbed his small upper dick against your entrance. “Good job, keep going,” the researcher instructed. “Touch her pussy.”

Your lizard stopped and turned to look at them. “Don’t tell me what to do with my mate,” he growled, making the researcher step back and cover their mouth. “You are here because she wanted it, but I will kill you if you say more,” the danger in his tone indicated he wasn’t kidding. And it made your clit tingle.

You reached up to touch his face and redirect his attention to you, rolling your hips to feel his dick against your needy pussy. He pushed his dick slowly, breathing hard over you, his eyes never leaving yours. You could hear his tail thrashing behind him as you caressed his head with your short nails. He purred, making you giggle as he pushed his upper dick a bit further inside your pussy. The groan he got in response made him chuckle as you felt his claws probing your asshole.

“Are you going to be a good mate today, too?” His question was filled with hope, and you could only nod, trusting him and his magic precum to make it possible. Seeing as you woke up without any pain, you guessed the magic was more than great and would help you out this time around, too. “Such a good mate for me, your holes are so perfect,” he was talking to you but not really. He seemed far away, like your pussy was transporting him into another dimension.

He started rubbing his big dick against your asshole, and you instantly felt the calmness and relaxation of his precum, allowing him to push the tip inside. You cried out, way too big. There was no pain, but the stretch was noticeable as he kept going, and going, and going… By the time he was fully inside you were breathing hard and he had crazed eyes. It was intoxicating.

“How is he doing that?” The researcher asked out loud, stepping a bit closer and earning themselves a warning growl.

“Ssssshut up!” Your lizard mate hissed in their direction, his pace fluttering at the distraction.

“But I-” The researcher tried again.

You looked over at them, trying to move your hips to get your mate to move again. “I will fill a report later,” you told them between pants.

“But I-,” they insisted.

It was enough. “SHUT UP!” You yelled at them as your lizard man stopped moving completely to glare at you, surprised. “Shut the fuck up and I will answer the questions, but you won’t be able to get any responses if you don’t shut up and let my mate fuck me senseless,” you let out between your teeth.

Said mate liked your outburst very much, soon grabbing your face forcefully to look at you. He started fucking you with intent then, the combination of his dicks inside of you driving you insane in a matter of seconds. He reached you neck and squeezed, feeling the vibrations of your moans against his hand and increasing his thrusts to make you lose your mind.

You felt something different this time, the tip of his scaled tail reaching around his body to rub against your clit. The textured surface made you see stars and the universe as he played with you in every way, taking your pleasure to the next level. It was exhilarating, your mouth open and your head thrown back as he fucked you like a machine.

He lowered his body, whispering against your ear: “Come for me, my mate, let me feel your holes milking me.” And like a good girl, you exploded into a million pieces as he growled over you and painted your insides with his cum.

This time around he didn’t stop, though. He kept fucking you for what felt like hours, probably were. You forgot everything about research and people watching, you forgot everything about your boss and the world. You could only focus on his dicks inside of you and his tail rubbing your clit until you came so many times that you had to ask for mercy, which he sweetly complied. He kissed your forehead and pulled out, leaving you messy and exhausted.

Once again you found yourself creampied in front of all your colleagues. Your job was suddenly a lot more interesting than two days ago.

[sarahowritesostucky]

Art: @hopelessartgeek

📖 "Medically Necessitated" Ch 3

Rated: Explicit Pairing: Bucky x Steve Tags: a/b/o, age gap, past rape, rape recovery, trauma recovery, pregnancy, medical trauma, hurt/comfort, mentions of CSA, religious fundamentalism, first time, gender dysphoria, male omegas are intersex (peen & vagine) Summary: After a medical emergency brings him into the ER, Bucky escapes the religious cult he's been raised in. It's up to Steve, nurse practitioner and omega sex & repro specialist, to see him through a medically supervised heat.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter! Story masterlist

3. Bucky

Steve unexpectedly switches from being Bucky's attending physician, to his dedicated heat Support.

It’s funny: the stereotype of alphas is that they’re always these domineering, bossy, even selfish people who walk all over other designations to get whatever they want. But Steve’s whole life pretty much revolves around doing for omegas. Meeting their needs.

There’s his volunteer work at the shelter and at ASHDOM, there are the single omega neighbors in his building who all know he’s a pushover and who come to him first whenever they need furniture moved or can’t get out to the store because they’re in heat. And there’s his job, which usually sees him working a bare minimum of sixty hours a week, often many more.

He does nothing but cater to omegas.

Of course, he’s paid well for it. Nursing is a chronically underfilled field to begin with, and omega specialized healthcare is even worse. Especially when it comes to staffing alpha practitioners. Steve knows for a fact that his salary is several grand higher than any of his his beta coworkers doing the same job, simply because of the additional therapeutic value that his designation can offer.

He’s a federally licensed heat partner, is certified in trauma and crisis intervention, and he’s one of the only alpha nurse practitioners providing omega reproductive healthcare in the borough. It makes his days long and his caseloads heavy, but that’s okay because it’s more than a job to him, it’s a moral imperative, something that’s been drilled into him since he was six years old and play-dominating all the other kids in his kindergarten class: you must take care of those who are weaker than you.

Steve’s been working on the OOBGYN ward around trauma patients for more than five years now. He knows the protocols, he knows how to keep himself under control and keep his patients safe. So it’s not exactly the shining pinnacle of his career when he has to page his subordinates—the nurses he trained for Chrissakes—to come and help him the fuck out with a patient he’s mishandled.

Steve would’ve highly preferred it be Hope (she’d give him less crap about it), but it’s Sharon who shows up first at the door. She comes into the room, no nonsense, holding a 1cc syringe at the ready. She’s unseen by Bucky, who’s still keening and purring where he’s got his teeth buried in Steve’s shoulder. Steve gives her a terse nod, and Sharon brusquely walks over and shoots the sedative up Bucky’s nose before the omega even knows what’s happening.

Ninety seconds later, he’s out like a light. “Midazolam,” Sharon says.

Steve nods. That buys them at least thirty minutes to get everything set up right. Bucky’s mouth has detached from his skin, and Steve carefully lowers his limp form back down onto the bed. There’s blood smeared on his lips and chin—Steve’s blood. Steve swallows hard and ignores the answering pulse of blood in his dick. He’s all keyed up, body thrumming, primed to fuck or fight.

Sharon’s a professional, so she doesn’t look at his crotch, but she does wrinkle her nose and give him an unimpressed look. “What the hell, Rogers?”

Steve avoids answering, embarrassed. “Come on. Help me transfer him. Clock’s ticking now.” He climbs off the bed and Sharon undoes Bucky’s IV. They bring up the bed’s side rails and unlock the wheels, then begin the slow process of pushing him out of the room and down to one of the on-ward heat suites. “Don’t lecture me,” Steve warns, not in the mood to have his rookie mistakes pointed out. There are plenty of them.

He forgot blockers. He intoned. He scented. Fuck, did he posture? He probably postured. He certainly got too close, let the omega get his fucking mouth on him. Christ. Steve shakes his head at himself. He’d let his soft spot for Bucky put him in a vulnerable position, and now a traumatized patient has latched onto him right at the onset of the first heat he’s had in years.

Those are not the things the hospital pays Steve thousand of dollars extra for.

Well … actually they are, but they weren’t supposed to be in Bucky’s case. Steve is his attending. He’s not supposed to take on the role of alpha support, too. It’s not allowed.

“Who should I be paging?” Sharon asks as they wheel the bed down the hall and around a corner.

“Get Banner,” Steve grunts, not happy with it. He doesn’t want to give up the case to another doctor. All his instincts are screaming at him to keep Bucky as his, to keep the control and authority he has over the omega’s medical care. But he’ll get in big trouble if he doesn’t sign this off to another physician before they seal themselves up in a heat suite.

“Is he on call tonight?”

“Yeah.” Banner is a good doctor, a beta, and a great human being. Steve trusts him more than almost anyone to do what’s right for Bucky as his attending. “Give him my case notes and Bucky’s treatment plan,” he tells Sharon as they arrive at a heavy door with a small, shuttered window. “And get a hold of Sam if he’s around. Tell him I have questions. Tell him the kid latched onto me.”

Sharon raises an eyebrow. “You mean … your neck?”

“No, not my neck,” Steve snaps meanly. “I mean physiologically.”

Sharon shoots him a peeved look from her side of Bucky’s bed, but she doesn’t say anything. She knows that Steve’s not mad at her.

He’s furious with himself for letting it happen. It’s embarrassing. Steve’s supposed to be experienced. The second that Bucky started posturing and losing language complexity and calling Steve ‘Alpha’ over and over like that, the second he’d started keening like that, Steve should’ve put distance between them. He should’ve been well out of the room by the time the kid began scenting and slicking, not still sitting right on the damn bed, letting him do it all over his scrub pants.

They wheel into the suite and Steve looks from Bucky’s lax body over to the suite’s low bed. It’s just an institutional grade mattress on a box platform, large and durable and easy to clean. It’s sterile and standard, just like the rest of the room. Nobody’s brought up any nesting materials yet.

If Steve had done his job right, Bucky probably wouldn’t have hit heat until tomorrow. The hospital staff would have already received the requisition forms and prepared the suite especially for Bucky’s stay. Instead, it’s empty and stripped bare, sterilized from the last omega who used it.

There’s a fridge stocked with water and calorie dense snacks, a four piece handicap-accessible bathroom with a walk-in tub. There’s the large platform bed, and there’s a breeding bench over in the corner. Steve glowers at Sharon when he sees it. “Why is that in here?” he snaps. “Jesus, Sharon, get it out.” He glances at Bucky, irrationally afraid of the kid waking up and seeing it.

“The last patient booked into the room was Ace,” Sharon says, unamused. “You sure you want it out?” She nods at Bucky’s prone body. “He’s dynamic dysphoric. You might need it. I can fill out a req for the seeding machine if you—”

“No,” Steve bites out, trying hard to remain professional and not yell at his head nurse. “No. I’m not doing that to him.”

Steve knows what Sharon’s thinking: light sedation and heavy restraint, complete mechanization of Bucky’s heat. It’s what a lot of doctors would do, once they got a look at Bucky’s case file and issues. Just to get the whole process over with in less time, with less effort.

But Steve can’t stand the thought of forcing Bucky through his treatment like that. It would terrify and humiliate him. Steve would rather work through every step with Bucky than force him onto that bench. “Get it out of here,” he orders.

Sharon doesn’t argue, just removes the bench and herself from the room. When she returns, Steve is staring at the naked vinyl mattress with distaste. There’s nothing soft or safe or warm here. He doesn’t want Bucky to wake up to that. “Stay with him,” he tells Sharon. “I’m gonna run down to supply and get room prep.”

He leaves her there with strict instructions not to touch Bucky. Now that the kid’s latched onto Steve as his heat partner, he won’t take well to physical contact with anyone else. “Fucking stupid, Rogers,” Steve berates himself again as he takes the elevator down to the supply room.

He grabs a pushcart and loads it up with an assortment of blankets that the hospital offers. He throws in a bunch of squishy pillows too, then heads over to grab a presenting form from the selection of different mounting pillows. He chooses one in a forgiving foam material. It has detachable cuffs in front, which after a moment’s hesitation he decides to bring along, just in case. He grabs a soft microfiber cover for the form so that it’ll feel warm and comforting against Bucky’s body. Steve doesn’t want to leave a single hard fucking edge in the entire heat suite, if he can help it.

He does spare the sex toys a glance, but it feels wrong to select anything now. If Bucky needs it later Steve can talk to him about it, have one of the nurses req whatever items Bucky wants.

He moves fast, anxious to get back to the suite and make sure that he's right there by Bucky's side when he wakes. He stops at the pharmacy and swipes his ID badge against the dispensary that stores samples of all the heat technicians’ scents. He scans his fingerprint when it prompts him, then types into the keypad that he wants to withdraw two vials. The machine whirs and delivers the manufactured amounts of Steve’s own pheromones. Steve swipes them up out of the slot without any patience and starts shoving the cart back towards the elevators.

Sharon raises her eyebrows at the heaping amount of supplies that Steve rolls in with. “O-kay,” she says, and heads for the door. “I’ll fill Hope in. Banner’s on his way. He said maybe twenty minutes. Sam’ll be on morning shift and I left him a message that he should come by.”

“Good.”

“Steve?” She turns and looks back at him once she’s out in the hall. “This is also part of your job. Don’t beat yourself up too hard, kay?”

It’s on the nicer end of the spectrum of things Sharon would say, and Steve forces his face into a grateful sort of wince. “Thanks, Share.” He shuts the door behind her and flicks the switch on the wall that locks the door and lights up the red occupied light outside of the suite. He presses the intercom button. “Check.”

“Check,” Sharon confirms from her side. “I requisitioned you guys’ meals for the next seventy-two hours. Banner will call in once he’s here. … Hope’s paging me. Good luck.”

“Bye.” Steve releases the button and turns back around. He looks at Bucky, who’s still unconscious on the hospital bed. Steve walks over and chews his lip, regretful that they’d had to use a sedative. He knows the boy probably won’t be appreciative of that when he wakes.

Steve is aware that he’s got dried blood on him. He can feel it, tacky and starting to crust, pulling uncomfortably whenever he turns his head. He grabs the first aid kit from the room’s small supply cabinet and takes it into the bathroom. The mirror over the sink shows it all, and Steve winces at the mess. It looks worse than it is, probably.

He wets a gauze with antiseptic and bites the bullet and slaps it onto the spot where the skin is broken. He clenches his teeth and hisses at the sting, cursing quietly. A few, careful wipes and it’s mostly cleaned off and he’s able to see the individual teeth marks. Steve’s lips quirk despite himself. Kid had gotten him good.

It’s close to his glands, and Steve wonders if Bucky was consciously aiming for it. Probably not. Steve knows the boy was probably raised to try to force himself into sexually desiring omegas and betas only, probably females, and never alphas. Guiltily, Steve feels a little bit of a thrill at the idea of getting to be Bucky’s first sexual encounter with an alpha. He’ll be the first partner Bucky’s ever had to help satisfy his needs in a natural way.

He doesn’t count the people who assaulted Bucky. Even if they were alpha (and he has reasons to believe they were), they don’t count. They’re dirt, less than nothing to Steve. He’s going to make sure he wipes them out of existence from Bucky’s mind. He’ll make them less than nothing for the omega too, given enough time to take care of him the way he deserves.

Sighing, he gives his bloodied neck a few more careful wipes. It’s not bleeding anymore and he doesn't bandage it. He needs to leave that part of himself open and available to Bucky. If it’s something the omega wants, then Steve isn’t going to keep it from him. Steve’s been bonded a few times over the years, usually in sessions with his neediest patients. Detoxing off the high when he discharges them from care is never fun, but he knows how to get himself through it. If Bucky wants that connection with him, he’ll be more than happy to allow it.

Steve just wants to make him feel safe and good.

He puts the first aid kit away and starts making up the bed. He puts sheets on it, then roughly dumps all the blankets out into a kind of spread out pile. Still open for rearrangement, though. He doesn’t know if Bucky will want to nest it himself when he comes to. He lays all the various pillows out around the perimeter of the mattress. The mounting pillow gets set up by the head of the bed, out of the way. Steve doesn’t want to do anything that Bucky might interpret as demanding or coercive. Not right off the bat, at least. This is all going to go according to what Bucky wants and needs, not Steve.

Sharon buzzes through the intercom, announcing that she’s leaving bath towels outside the door. Steve retrieves them and sticks them in the bathroom for later. He checks the fridge, which is indeed stocked with water bottles, high-sugar fruit juice and cups of peaches packed in syrup, little portions of cheese and two ounce packets of almond butter—all good things for an omega to nibble on through a cycle. He pulls out the almond butters and sets them on the counter to warm up. He roots through the supply cabinet until he finds a box of the little spray caps that fit to the pheromone vials. He opens one, pops the cap on, then goes about spritzing it on various places on the bed. He doesn’t go too nuts, not wanting to overwhelm the omega when he—

“Steve?”

Steve whips around so fast, he almost trips over his own clogs. He sees Bucky, pushing up to sitting in the hospital bed and looking confused. “What happen’d?” he asks groggily, rubbing his face.

Steve sticks the vials in the fridge and hurries over to Bucky’s side. “Hey,” he says soothingly. “You got a little frantic back there, buddy. The nurse gave you something to calm down so we could get this room ready for you.”

Bucky seems to become more aware of his surroundings, and that he’s no longer in his hospital room. He looks past Steve, all around the heat suite. Then his attention fixes on the large bed. Steve sees his nostrils flare and his pupils shrink to pinpoints. He begins to shake his head a little. “No,” he whispers. “Please. Steve, please don’t make me.” He whimpers and his hands fly to his stomach, a cramp clearly passing through him. “Oh man,” he whines, distressed.

Steve had expected this. He’d wanted to have Bucky on the larger bed by the time he woke up, all snuggled and safe in a cocoon of soft things. He reaches out and touches the bed instead of Bucky, fingers stroking the boxy weave of the hospital blanket that covers Bucky’s leg only inches away. “It’s going to be just fine,” he tells him. “We’re in a private suite. It’s like your own little hotel room, see? You’ve got everything you need right here.” He points out different things. “There’s snacks in the fridge and the tv’s got all the streaming apps you could want.” He smiles. “Hell, the bathtub has jets.”

Bucky’s eyes do flick over to the bathroom’s open door, if only for a moment. But he’s quickly back to whimpering and wrapping his arms around himself. “No,” he says, staring at his knees instead of Steve. “S’wrong.” He shakes his head and mumbles quiet words to himself: gross, pathetic, unnatural. Horrible, wrong words that break Steve’s heart.

Steve feels that familiar flash of anger zip through him at the reminder of how horribly Bucky’s been treated his whole life. But that’s not productive, so he squashes the anger down and instead tries to think calming, soothing alpha thoughts. He long ago learned in his training that when helping an omega through their heat, an alpha’s thoughts influence their physiology, and their physiology influences their actions. Everything Steve does in this room now has to be geared towards helping Bucky feel safe and taken care of. Everything.

“Hey,” he says, sitting down on the very edge of the bed. Bucky seems hyper aware of his proximity but he doesn’t tense up or try to move away at all, which is a good sign. Steve lets his hand drift closer over the blanket, towards Bucky’s knee. “When you met with the counselor, with Clint? Did you guys talk about it? About being male omegas, your cycles?”

Bucky’s face looks pained and he still won’t look at Steve, but he nods smally. “Yeah.”

“I’d bet money that Clint didn’t use any of those words you just said, when he talked about it. Do you think those things about Clint?” This, at least, seems to get through to the kid. He peeks up at Steve, and Steve gives him a gentle smile. “I’m friends with him, ya know. He’s a cool guy. I actually think you two would get along.”

Bucky shrugs, unwilling to engage. He’s pouting still and Steve wants so badly to pull him in against his body and surround him with the pressure and reassurance of a hug, but he knows he has to do this on Bucky’s timetable. The omega is calmed out of the frenzy he was having when Sharon sedated him, but a cc of Midazolam up the nose tends to do that.

“I’m alpha,” Steve says gently. “So of course I can’t know what it’s like to go through a heat, not personally. But I’ve helped a lot of people through theirs. They’ve told me all kinds of things. Some sort of dislike it. Most enjoy it to some extent. But nobody has ever told me it’s wrong or unnatural.”

It’s a lie. Steve has had one or two other patients who felt the way that Bucky feels, dysphoric patients who were traumatized by abusers in similar ways, but Steve also knows that that’s not what Bucky needs to hear right now.

“Hey,” he says, finally sliding his hand far enough over the blanket that his fingertips brush Bucky’s lax ones on the bed. Bucky’s eyes fly up to him. “I know you can’t just change your viewpoint overnight. I get it. But it’s important that you understand that nobody else shares those negative thoughts about your body or about heats. I’m certainly not thinking them.” He tilts his head forward and asks, “What did Clint say about it, when you guys talked?”

Bucky is reluctant to tell him, but eventually he murmurs, “He said it’s intense, but it’s just our bodies’ way of feeling good. … He said it’s better when you’ve got somebody with you to help.” His cheeks are getting flushed, probably a combination of embarrassment and the effects of his heat. “He said he’s married to his husband and they love each other. That makes him like his heats.”

Steve nods. “Yeah, Phil. He’s a sweet guy. He’s actually one of the hospital administrators. We all go out for drinks together sometimes.” He’s trying to normalize everything, trying to make Bucky see that being omega and having heats is just another part of life that people go through, either on their own or through someone they know. “I have to say, I’ve always been a little bit jealous of the week of heat leave you guys get every month. It seems pretty awesome.”

Bucky looks at him like the words ‘heat’ and ‘awesome’ being used together don’t compute. His face flushes darker, and this time it’s almost certainly from embarrassment. “It’s gross,” he mumbles, looking away from Steve with a little scowl. He pulls his hand away from Steve’s on the bed and tucks his legs up under the blanket, hugging his arms around them. “Being like that, needing sex and having no control over yourself,” he says, spitting the words out like they’re bad, contemptable things. “Like an animal. S’pathetic.”

Steve sighs. Bucky’s got a long road of therapy ahead of him, that much is obvious. “It’s okay for you to think that, Honey, but you gotta know I’m gonna keep telling you how wrong you are.” Bucky looks back up at him at his assertive tone, and Steve nods. “I’m alpha, so I think omegas are lovely. And I’ve always thought it’s amazing what your bodies can do. It’s primal, sure. It’s powerful. Beautiful.”

Bucky pfts air between his teeth, disagreeing.

Steve lets his hand cover one of Bucky’s where he’s gripping his knees. “Especially to somebody like me. Seeing an omega in heat is a beautiful, natural thing. And every time I get to be with someone, when they let me help them feel good, it’s just the best thing.” There’s reverence in his voice instead of lust, and he can see the emotions passing over Bucky’s face as he takes that in. The disbelief starts to morph into a sort of cautious acceptance. Or at least that’s what Steve hopes it is. “I’m sorry you had people telling you otherwise for so long,” he says. He dares to curl his fingers over Bucky’s hand, and something loosens in his chest as the omega lets him. “Now you’re in the real world, though. Now you get to see how much everybody thinks you’re normal. Just another part of life. A great part of it, in fact.” He gives Bucky’s hand a squeeze. “So, will you let me spend your heat with you, Omega?”

Bucky’s irises flare and his lips part. Steve would be willing to bet the kid has never been called ‘omega’ with anything other than vitriol. And now Steve has said it like a title of honor. Bucky swallows thickly. “... Okay,” he says, voice barely there. Afraid maybe, but trusting. He’s trusting Steve, and that makes something golden and warm flare deep in Steve’s chest. “If it’s you,” Bucky adds meekly. “Only you.”

Steve smiles sadly. He’s not sure if Bucky fully remembers everything that’d happened in his hospital room earlier. “Yeah, Honey,” he reassures him. “I’m gonna stay with you the whole time. Just you and me.” He squeezes their fingers together. “It’s gonna be nice. I promise.”

Bucky blushes and squirms and won’t meet his eyes again, but he’s clearly pleased. He turns to look back over at the large, low bed. “Can I …” he starts, hesitant. “Can I go over there?”

“Of course, Sweetheart. It’s yours.” Steve pats the back of his hand comfortingly and then pulls away, getting up to go over and root around the fridge and make himself seem unobtrusive. “Why don’t you nest around a little bit? Make the blankets how you like.”

Behind him, Bucky is silent. Then Steve hears him get off the hospital bed, followed by the soft rustle of him climbing onto the suite’s bed. “... I don’t know how to nest,” comes quietly from behind.

Oh god. Steve lets his eyes slip shut for the barest second, at that heartbreakingly vulnerable admission. Once again, he’s struck by the intense urge to squeeze Bucky up in his arms, tight and secure and possessive forever. Focus, Rogers. He inhales deeply and fixes his face back to a cheerful neutral. He turns. Bucky is sitting in the very middle of the bed, legs folded under himself, looking like a lost little duckling in a sea of blankets. “Sure you do,” Steve says encouragingly. “It’s whatever makes you feel good. Whatever feels right.” He gestures to the various blankets and pillows. “Just start moving ‘em around. You’ll find what works.” He watches hopefully as Bucky bites his lip and considers his advice. He tentatively reaches for one of the pillows and switches it with another, fluffing it. Steve’s chest warms. “That’s it,” he encourages. “See? You know what to do.”

Bucky’s cheeks get more flushed and he tucks his lips in at the praise. There’s more confidence to him as he starts to pick up different pillows and move them, stuffing the edges of blankets around in various places.

“Rogers,”

Steve whips around towards the door at the sound of the intercom. He glances back at Bucky, who has tensed up at the interruption. “Keep working on it,” he urges kindly. “I have to step out for a second and talk with your new attending. I’ll be right back to see what you’ve done.” Bucky whines low in his throat, displeased at hearing that his heat partner is leaving him. But he obeys and goes back to arranging the blankets, and Steve is so proud of him. “Good boy,” he praises, then goes to step out into the hallway.

“Doctor,” he says respectfully once he’s out in the hallway with Banner. “Thanks for coming in. I’m sorry about this.”

Bruce smiles benevolently, if somewhat sleepily. “Happy to help. I gave his chart a look and read through your notes. It sounds like you made the right call to switch to his support.”

Steve shifts uncomfortably. “Yeah.” He knows that Banner could very well scold him over his mistakes, but instead he’s just letting it be. It’s a relief. “He just woke up from the sedatives a few minutes ago. I’m talking him through some nesting now, getting him settled in.”

Banner nods and brings his clipboard up to look at it as they talk. He scans Bucky’s chart, flipping between the pages. “Acute symptoms started about forty minutes ago?��

“Yeah.”

“What symptoms did you observe?”

Steve feels his neck get hot, and he brings a hand up to rub at it. “Um, well he slicked all over my pants.”

Bruce’s gaze falls assessingly to the large wet patch on Steve’s right thigh. He nods and writes on the clipboard. “Anything else?”

“Aggression, impulsive sexual touching, scenting, verbal regression, posturing,”

“The whole nine yards,” Bruce murmurs, nodding and finishing up with his writing. He looks back up at Steve. “Nothing to cause concern though?”

Steve shakes his head. “No. He rated his pain for me earlier. Just seems to be experiencing a typical level of cramping.”

“That’s good. Given the state of his infection days ago, I’dve been worried of something more severe.”

“That’s really cleared up,” Steve says. “A lot of the inflammation we saw there was actually his body rejecting the hormonal implants. Once we removed his suppressant and IUD, things really calmed down.”

Bruce nods, still flipping through the pages. “Okay. Still make sure to palpate his stomach. And conduct an internal before things get too wild in there.”

Steve fights back a wince. “Doc, he’s a very recent rape victim. I don’t think he’ll tolerate the speculum.”

“Then don’t use one,” Bruce says plainly. “If he can’t accept your fingers and you need a script written for benzos, we can do that.”

Steve tenses at the reminder that he’s no longer Bucky’s attending. He’s not the one who gets to make the decisions for Bucky’s care anymore. “Okay,” he agrees, anxious to get back into the suite and back to Bucky. “Not yet. But I’ll let you know.”

Bruce agrees and they part ways, and when Steve has locked himself back into the room, he turns and is met with the sight of Bucky working away at what’s quickly becoming a textbook nest. Steve beams. “Hey! look at you.”

Bucky spares him a glance, but then he huffs and he’s back to working away at getting the blankets just how he needs them. He’s like a cat: focused, satisfied and then frustrated and then satisfied again as he tries to get everything just right. It’s adorable. “They smell like you,” he mumbles, not looking up from where he’s working away. He means the blankets.

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah I scented them. Is that okay?” Steve waits for Bucky’s approval. When he gets a quick, silent nod, he’s satisfied. “This looks real good, omega” he approves, watching Bucky nitpick the final little details of the nest. Steve doesn’t miss how the mounting pillow hasn’t been moved from its spot at the far end of the bed. He bites his lip, thrilled that Bucky hasn’t rejected it. He could’ve tossed it from the nest entirely, but instead he’s kept it. Steve’s under no illusions that the kid doesn’t recognize the item for exactly what it is. When Bucky stops nesting and starts squirming, Steve holds his breath and asks, “Omega?” He waits for Bucky to look him in the eyes. “Can I come into your den with you?”

Bucky’s eyes go a little fuzzy at the request, dazed and pleased at being pursued by an alpha when he’s ripe like this. “Alpha,” he says plaintively, in lieu of an answer.

Steve hums and steps forward. “So good,” he praises. “Bucky, can I take my clothes off?”

“I …” Bucky’s eyes flick over him nervously. They land on the wet patch on his scrub pants and hold there. “Oh,” he breathes, face going slack.

“Yeah,” Steve touches the spot where Bucky had slicked all over him. “You remember that?” he asks. “Rubbing your bottom on me?” Bucky emits a high keening sound, distressed, but Steve shushes him and tuts. “No, baby. It was so amazing. You made me really happy when you did that.”

Bucky’s eyes flick up nervously. He looks like he can’t believe it. “I did?” he asks.

“Of course. It’s what your body’s supposed to do. It means you're healthy and aroused. That’s completely normal.” Bucky frowns a little, clearly still having intrusive thoughts about his nature. He whines and shakes his head, displeased, and Steve hurries to take a step closer to the low mattress. “Hey. Look at me, Honey. Please?”

Bucky squirms in place, rocking his hips in little unconscious movements. He looks up at him, and there’s awareness in his eyes. Awareness and fear. Steve can see how Bucky is perfectly aware of how differently he’s acting now, because of his heat. And it’s scaring him. “Steve,” he says, voice trembling. “Please. … I don’t think I can do this.”

“I’m right here, Buck. It’s okay. This is safe, remember?”

His lips tremble and a single tear falls down his cheek. “What’re you gonna do?”

Steve tries to give him the most reassuring look he knows how. “I’m gonna undress,” he says gently. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to have sex with you. We’re just gonna have some skin contact to start. Is that okay?” He waits for Bucky’s unsure nod before he pulls his scrub top over his head and tosses it aside. He’s wearing a white tee shirt underneath and he quickly removes that as well. Then Bucky’s inhale sounds, sharp and audible, his lips parting as he sees Steve’s body bared to him for the first time. Steve hums, pleased at the reaction, and pushes his chest out. He lets Bucky look his fill. The way the omega is sitting there, breathing open-mouthed and rocking faintly in place as his need builds, makes Steve’s balls feel heavy and full. He toes off his clogs and socks, then hooks his thumbs in the elastic waistband of his scrub pants. “You can undress too, if it’s what feels good,” he tells him. “I only want you to do what feels good for you.” Bucky just sits there and stares as Steve's scrub pants fall and his cock is revealed, half hard and obvious underneath his briefs. He rubs himself once from over the fabric, watching how Bucky's eyes track the movement. "Gonna take these off," he warns, not wanting anything he does to feel like a surprise to the omega. When he straightens back up from taking off his briefs, his cock hangs thickly between his legs.

And Bucky's eyes are riveted. “Oh,” he breathes quietly, all modesty and shame momentarily forgotten as he stares at Steve’s alpha body. “Steve,” he whispers.

Steve smiles, feeling incredibly tender towards the young omega. Bucky won’t be the first virgin he’s ever supported, but he might be the most vulnerable. Steve puts one knee up on the mattress, carefully cataloging Bucky’s reactions with every move he makes. He lowers his hands down into the mess of blankets, brings his other knee up, crawls forward slowly. “I’m coming into your nest with you, omega,” he says softly. “Your den. Where you decide what happens, right?”

“... right,” Bucky breathes, distracted.

Steve’s lips curl. “Can you undress for me now?” Bucky makes a small, hurt sound in his throat, but he listens and pulls off his hospital gown. Steve’s dick jumps against his thigh as he finally gets to see the boy’s naked body. “Oh, Sweetheart.”

Steve saw him that night in the ER, of course, but he’d been bloodied and bruised, wracked with seizures and burning up from infection. Steve hadn’t been able to look at him as anything other than an emergency that night. Bucky had been a body, broken and hurt and needing to be repaired, and Steve had done his job. Now, it’s amazing how much of a difference there is. Bucky is clean and healed and Steve can really look at him.

He has a natural tan to his skin. He's toned, with long, lithe limbs and muscles that are still partially hidden by a layer of baby fat. His chest and arms are strong, especially for an omega, but his hips round out nicely like they should, and his thighs are thick and welcoming. His belly is slightly distended, swollen from his heat. Everything about him makes Steve’s mouth water and his pulse thrum hard in his veins, pleased.

Bucky’s body is that of a fully-matured omega male, already having prepared itself for pregnancy and childbirth despite the years he was forced to take suppressants. Steve breathes a sigh of relief to see it. “Bucky,” he says honestly, wanting him to hear the arousal in his voice this time. “You’re so beautiful. Look at you.” He reaches out as if he’ll touch, but he doesn’t. “You’re perfect.”

Bucky flushes deeply at the praise and at being so closely scrutinized. There’s still a tension in him that’s unnatural, a wariness that serves to remind Steve that the omega was violated barely more than a week ago. Steve knees up closer to him and mirrors his position, sitting back on his heels, maintaining that small distance that reminds Bucky that this is his choice. He reaches out and puts a hand on Bucky’s hip, sliding it up his side.

Bucky flinches, and then he keens in distress when he sees the hurt that flashes on Steve’s face. “I’m sorry,” he says, looking ashamed. “Alpha,”

“Hey, no.” Steve tuts and curls his fingers in at the soft give of Bucky’s waist. “No, baby. Don’t apologize for this. You got hurt, and it’s scary. You don’t have to hide any of that from me. I want to know how you’re really feeling.” He reaches with his other hand and cups Bucky’s neck. He feels around and pushes in when he finds the glands there, hot and tight and swollen beneath the skin. The scent of fresh slick hits the air when he pinches down on it, and Bucky whines loudly. “Shhh sh sh,” Steve hushes. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Bucky whimpers and trembles, but calms down quickly with Steve’s hand massaging at his glands so pointedly. His eyes slip shut for the briefest of seconds, showing his trust in Steve, and something very close to a moan leaves his lips. It’s quiet, barely there, but Steve hears it. “Steve,” he murmurs, eyes still closed. “Oh …”

“What do you want to do, Honey?” Steve asks. “You want to get on your back? Why don’t you do that and feel those soft blankets against your body, huh?” He encourages Bucky to lie back and is incredibly relieved when the omega goes without a fuss. “Good boy,” he coos. “That’s just right. Yeah, isn’t that nice? Did such a good job on making this nest, Omega,” he praises. He sits back and crosses his legs and gives Bucky a moment to settle in. “There you go. Mmhm. Bet that feels real good on your skin, doesn’t it? Don’t worry now. I’m not going to touch you for a little bit. Just want you to get comfy in your nest. You gonna do that for me, Sweetheart?”

Bucky nods, scent calming more and more as he realizes that Steve isn’t lying, that he’s really not going to fall on top of him and force anything on him. His eyes open and flick over Steve’s face uncertainly. “What do I have to do?” he asks, emotionally vulnerable now but still with a degree of lucidity in his voice. It lets Steve know that he’s still dealing with his patient: a trauma victim. Bucky isn’t lost to his heat just yet.

Steve starts up a low, comforting rumble in his chest and keeps his hands on the tops of his own thighs. “Nothing you don’t want to,” he reassures him. “We’re here for you, Bucky. To make you feel good, and safe, and pleasured. I’m not going to do anything to you if it doesn’t make you feel all of those things, okay?”

Bucky almost looks like he’s going to cry at hearing Steve’s kind promises. He looks like a child who’s afraid to trust, who’s had promises that they’ve believed in yanked away before, many times. “Are you sure?” he asks, fearful.

Steve smiles sadly and grips his own thighs to keep himself from reaching out. “So sure,” he says. “Let’s just sit here together for a minute, okay?” He looks up at the ceiling and speaks to the StarkPhone assistant, “Hey Jarvis: play ‘sexual healing’ playlist.”

“Playing ‘sexual healing’ playlist.”

Steve looks back down to Bucky just in time to catch him wincing at the stupid name of the playlist. They share a chuckle over it, and then the music that Steve uses for people like Bucky starts to fill the room. There’s not actually any Marvin Gaye on it. Far from that, the instrumental music is somewhere between ethereal and sensual. It’s enticing, soothing, and Steve has always found it to be a good fit for patients who need help relaxing into their heats. “How’s that?” he asks Bucky, smiling down at him.

“Nice,” he says, inhaling slowly and letting his eyes slip closed as he relaxes, and exhales.

Something deep in Steve’s chest unspools at that huge sign of trust. This is good. This is going really well. “Okay,” he murmurs. More quietly than last time, he says, “Jarvis: dim lights to thirty percent, soft orange glow. Adjust room temperature to patient’s basal body temp, minus twenty degrees.”

This time Jarvis follows the commands without replying. The room becomes warm and glowing and comforting, like the inside of a womb. Steve sits still and allows Bucky to take time to relax fully. The omega’s scent is improving, softening and ripening into a healthy tone. Steve’s body responds to it, but he ignores his own reactions and watches Bucky intently. In the low light, his body gleams beautifully. The faint sheen of perspiration that coats his skin makes him look delectable. Steve wants to taste him so badly.

“I’m gonna get something,” he says quietly, not wanting to disturb Bucky from how he’s relaxing. “Not going anywhere, just a second.” Bucky makes a vague noise of assent, eyes staying closed. It makes Steve smile fondly.

He goes to the supply cabinet and gets a bottle of unscented oil. There’s a pin valve on the bottom of the container that he locks onto one of the pheromone vials. He squeezes in some of his pheromones then pops the vial back off, giving the oil bottle a good shake to properly emulsify everything. Having Steve’s alpha scent rubbed all over his skin will help relax Bucky, and it’ll help calm some of his body’s inflammatory heat reactions down.

Steve climbs back into the nest and sits next to Bucky’s prone body. He lets his eyes rake over the rise and fall of his chest and the smooth planes of his belly. He stares at what’s visible lower down; a small thatch of dark pubic hair just above his penis, everything else naturally bare and smooth. Steve can’t see his actual sex from here, but he can see the shine of slick that’s leaked out of it, smeared onto his inner thighs and gleaming in the room’s low light. It’s enticing to say the least.

Steve knows he’s not supposed to judge his patients’ bodies, but there’s no denying that Bucky is ideally attractive, right down to what’s between his legs. His little cocklet is short and soft. It’s fattened up thick but not erect. That’s to be expected. It’s rare that Steve sees a male omega who is able to get fully hard. Their bodies don’t produce the right hormones for it, especially during their heats. Bucky’s uncircumcised, the head of his little dick fat and flush beneath the foreskin. Steve knew all of this already, but somehow it all still feels novel. He’s looking at him differently now. Not as a doctor but as his alpha support, as someone who’s going to make love to his body, if Bucky wants it.

When he looks back up to his face, Bucky’s eyes are open and he’s watching him with an inscrutable expression. “Are you okay?” Steve asks.

Bucky nods silently. “I …” his eyes flash down to his dick and then away. “Um…” He squirms and presses his thighs together, ashamed. “It’s not, um, I’m not …”

“No,” Steve says firmly. “Bucky, no. You’re so perfect, Honey. You literally look like the classical sculptures of male omegas.” Bucky seems to be slightly reassured by this, which Steve knows is a minor miracle. He can imagine the sorts of things Bucky’s been insulted with over the years, all the ways his so-called family has told him his omega body is wrong. “Can I touch you a little, Sweetheart? Are you gonna let me touch this gorgeous body?”

Bucky shivers, eyes wide. He seems stunned that Steve likes the way he looks. “Okay,” he whispers.

“Good boy,” Steve praises. He squeezes out some of the oil and rubs it between his hands. It’s a dry massage oil, designed for omegas who’re in heat, their skin overly sensitive to stimulation. Steve reaches out slowly, telegraphing his intentions. He lets his hand sink down to rest on the top of Bucky’s thigh. He feels the omega shiver from the touch. He squeezes, digging slow and deep into the muscle, then releases the pressure and rubs firmly up and down, over and over. “Is this okay?” he asks. “Me massaging you?” It’s one of the most common techniques he uses for trauma victims, and Bucky seems to be responding to it favorably, if the lazy, pleasured look on his face is anything to go by. “Mm? Good?”

Bucky nods, staring at him through heavy lidded eyes. “Yeah,” he croaks. “It’s nice.” Between his legs, his little cocklet is just barely peeking out, a thin bead of moisture pearling at the slit . Steve notices with a slight smile, but of course he says nothing.

He brings up his other hand to deepen the massage. “That’s good,” he praises. “That’s what we want.” He keeps up the massage, doing one thigh and then the other, then moving down to his shins. Bucky makes a painfully erotic sound once Steve has pulled his foot into his lap and is digging fingers into his arch. Steve hums, continuing on.

Eventually Bucky seems calm enough that Steve sets his feet aside and encourages him to spread his legs so that Steve can move to sit between them. Bucky seems to know what’s coming, keeping his eyes pointedly closed as Steve eases his hands back up his legs, over his knees, and then up to the tension in his inner thighs. “Shh,” Steve soothes, rubbing back and forth. “Relax, honey. I’m just gonna examine you. Eyes and hands only, I promise. Take deep breaths.”

Bucky tries to listen, it’s obvious. But his breath still hitches when Steve brings both hands to his lower stomach and begins palpating the area. He peeks down at Steve, “What’re you doing?”

“Just checking,” Steve murmurs, focused on what he’s feeling underneath his fingers. “It’s normal for your uterus to swell during heat, but I don’t want to feel any hard spots.” He hears Bucky grunt in embarrassment, probably at being reminded of his own anatomy. “Shh, you’re okay. Everything seems fine.”

“... Steve?” Steve looks up and sees Bucky’s pinched expression. “Um, remember when you said I might not be able to have children?”

His heart squeezes at the obvious vulnerability in Bucky’s voice, how brave he’s being by asking. “We were worried about that, before,” Steve admits. “But your body’s been responding well to the treatment.” He notches his thumbs in at Bucky’s hipbones and strokes him softly there. “We still have to get your cycles regulated, but I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t be able to carry a pregnancy just fine one day.”

Bucky’s cheeks flush and he looks a little overwhelmed at the words. “... one day,” he repeats meekly, and Steve smiles gently at him.

“Yeah Honey, one day. Not today. Not until you’re ready.” This seems to ease Bucky's fears, and his scent sweetens into something even richer than before. He smells like he feels safe, and that makes Steve preen in satisfaction. He’s making his omega feel safe. He rumbles low in his chest and watches how Bucky reacts to the sound. He slides his hands down to Bucky’s knees and encourages him to bed his legs up. “Can I see the rest of you?” he asks.

Bucky trembles and tenses, but he nods, shifting the tilt of his hips as he draws his knees up for him.

“Good boy,” Steve praises, knowing how hard it must be for Bucky to reveal this part of himself to anyone, let alone Steve. “That’s so good, Bucky. Thank you.” He strokes Bucky’s calves, soothing him. “Close your eyes if you need to. I want you relaxed for this.”

Bucky whimpers but he does let his eyes slip closed. He’s trying. He’s being so brave and strong and it melts Steve’s heart. Steve takes a moment to get some more of the massage oil on his hands. He leans over Bucky and smears the oil on either side of his neck, right over the glands, giving him his scent. He puts some just below his nostrils as well and Bucky moans softly. Steve sits back. He looks down.

Bucky is pink and healthy looking, swollen from the heat and soaked with a healthy amount of slick. Steve pushes gently on his shins to get him to bend his legs more. This tilts his pelvis up and exposes him to Steve’s view.

Bucky looks like any young male omega should. He lacks a clitoris because his body developed that part of his anatomy into a penis when he was in utero. His sex is fairly similar to a female's, with pronounced outer lips where he would’ve formed his testicles, if he hadn’t developed ovaries instead. Steve’s breath catches a little when he sees the boy's muscles clench, a thick gush of slick seeping out of his cunt. Jesus wept. Bucky whimpers and squirms, but Steve hushes him, telling him that he’s good, he’s fine, his body’s doing what it’s supposed to. “I’m going to touch you, okay?” he says softly, giving Bucky the chance to refuse. “I’m going to put my fingers inside to feel you.”

While it’s clear that this is very upsetting and hard for Bucky, he still seeks comfort in Steve, trying to be good for him. “Alpha,” he breathes, eyes clenched shut and face screwed up. He reaches down, searching for Steve’s hand.

Steve gives him his left one and squeezes their fingers together. “Right here, Honey. It’s just you and me, in private, taking care of each other. Nothing bad, right?”

Bucky nods tightly. “Y-yeah. Right.”

Steve smiles up at him, pained but so, so proud of how well he’s doing. “C’mere,” he coaxes, scooting up in the sheets and pulling on Bucky until he has the boy’s hips up in his lap. “There you go. That’s so good, Omega. You know just what to do. So smart.” Bucky responds to the nonsensical praise, his whines losing some of their stress and instead becoming more seeking, questioning things. Steve makes it his mission to soothe those sounds with his own. “I’m going to touch you now, Buck. Two fingers. It shouldn’t hurt, but if it feels uncomfortable at all, you tell me right away and I’ll stop.” He waits for Bucky’s nod before continuing, then traces the edges of his folds, gathering slick on his fingertips. Everything externally looks good, and the little Steve can see of his delicate entrance looks normal, if a bit heat swollen. The remains of his recently-torn hymen are still there, healed but jagged edges of soft tissue that evil, vile rapists created. Steve grits his teeth and forces his thoughts away from that, not wanting to think about what they took from Bucky, not wanting Bucky to become upset from an unpleasant shift in his scent.

Any physical trauma to the vaginal tissues will have healed in an omega his age by now, Steve knows, but that’s just the physical. Physical wounds always heal the fastest, and hurt the least. There are other, deeper hurts that Steve needs to help him with.

“Okay,” he whispers, setting his fingers to Bucky’s entrance. “A little pressure, no pain. Remember what you do if there’s pain?”

Bucky’s face pinches where he’s lying with his eyes firmly closed. “Tell you,” he murmurs, and Steve praises him with a deep rumble of approval.

“That’s right. Good boy. Okay now, deep breath.” He waits for Bucky’s chest to rise in an inhale before he applies pressure, and slips into his body.

Bucky’s lips part and he gasps, but it’s just reflex. He lets his breath out and sighs, making a little sound in his throat like he’s surprised that it actually didn’t hurt. “Oh,” he says.

Steve hums, pleased. “Nothing bad,” he repeats. He crooks his fingers, feeling with purpose along the omega’s walls. It’s tight inside, incredibly hot and tight like a virgin omega’s cunt should be. Steve keeps his arousal to himself as best he can, though he knows his scent will give some of it away. At least Bucky is keeping his eyes closed to relax, so Steve doesn’t have to worry about the boy seeing the undoubtedly devastated expressions of arousal that flash across his own face.

He’s alpha, and even though he’s undergone extensive training, there’s no helping certain things. Steve’s cock is hard and it’s not going down any time soon. He swallows thickly, focusing on the exam he needs to be conducting. Carefully, watching Bucky’s body and face for any flinches, he strokes and feels along his internal walls. Nothing abnormal stands out to him, though when he uses a different technique to feel closer to the entrance, he does notice the enlarged slick glands that he’d known were there.

They’re much better than they’d been on that night in the ER, at least. No longer raging with infection, able to be touched without causing extreme pain. Steve feels and identifies the structures, impacted from years and years of illegal suppressant use. Carefully, he eases into using more pressure, rubbing firmly.

Bucky groans and presses his hips down. “Oh god,” he complains, brow scrunching a little. “What is that?”

“Pain?” Steve asks, but Bucky shakes his head.

“Sore. Oh. Like a bruise.”

Steve hums knowingly. “You have four glands here, two on either side. They’re how your body gets wet, but right now they’re probably impacted.” Bucky makes a hurt little sound in his throat and asks what that means. Steve explains it to him. “There was a lot of old infection in them and that all needs depressed now that your body’s producing slick again. I’m gonna massage them to try and get the bad stuff out, okay?”

Bucky’s chewing his lip, making it red and swollen and very tempting for Steve to just crawl back up his body and kiss the abused flesh. “... okay.”

Steve decides to do the anterior two first, as they feel harder. “Here we go,” he murmurs. “If it hurts more than slightly pressing on a bruise, tell me. Don’t ignore pain. I’ll stop if we need to.”

Bucky nods tightly, expression strained. But he whispers, “I trust you, Alpha,” and Steve’s heart swells two sizes bigger in his chest.

A few minutes of firm, focused touching on the glands is all it takes to have them releasing. Liquid gushes over the back of Steve’s hand as the pressure gives and Bucky moans in relief. The smell of old, stale infection hits the air, sour for a moment before it dissipates. Steve uses his free hand to rub soothingly over Bucky’s lower belly. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re okay.” Against the sheets, Bucky nods his head blearily. Steve turns his hand and finds the posterior glands, and works those until they release as well. The amount of slick is incredible, and Steve knows that it must feel so much better for the omega now that all that poison is out of him. There’s immediately more room inside his channel, the glands back to being soft and spongy like they should be. Steve gives them a few more gentle strokes to be sure that all that backed up slick is out. “Good,” he rumbles low in his chest, proud of how well Bucky handled that. “That’s just lovely, Honey. Good job.”

Bucky peeks his eyes open, looking down to where Steve still has his fingers buried inside his body. His entire face is flushed and he’s breathing open-mouthed. “S-steve,” he slurs, searching Steve’s eyes out with his own. He’s a little wild, a little needy, and Steve responds, removing his fingers from the drenched clutch of his cunt and coming up to lay over his body instead. He puts his face close, giving Bucky eye contact and reassurance and an open invitation to scent him. “I’m here, Buck. I’m right here with you. What do you need?”

Bucky grunts with discomfort and hides himself against Steve’s neck, which of course Steve allows, turning his head to the side to give him better access to his glands. He cups Bucky’s head with his clean hand, encouraging him with deep, soothing sounds. “That’s good, that’s just right, Honey. Do what feels good. Whatever you need.”

Bucky keens, embarrassed but clearly loving the reassurance Steve’s giving him. He latches onto Steve, mouth on his glands and legs around his waist. He humps up against him and sucks needily on his glands. “Mmph, mm…”

Steve can’t help the guttural moan that escapes him at such contact. It feels so good. “Okay, Sweetheart, okay,” he pants, eyes squeezed shut as his dick throbs and blurts out precum against Bucky’s stomach. “Yeah, okay.” He loses control for a few seconds as his hips press down on Bucky’s soft body, but he reigns it in after a few thrusts.

Bucky complains with a noise, humping up for more as he mouths over Steve's neck. His teeth scrape and then catch, and then he bites down on Steve’s glands. Hard.

Steve grunts loudly at the flare of pain. The skin breaks and his scent wafts into the air, strong and different from before as Bucky’s saliva gets mixed into the wound. He hears Bucky’s muffled sound of enjoyment as his mouth fills with the taste, eagerly suckling for more. “... oh, fuck,” Steve moans. He digs his fingers in against Bucky’s shoulders and pants, trying to hold on, to stay calm.

He knew this might happen. Patients with needs as complex as Bucky’s are prone to biting. They naturally seek out the connection and pleasure of a bond, instincts overriding their minds as they seek the comfort they so desperately need. Bucky chirps happily at the burst of pheromones that he’s gotten, rubbing his face back and forth in the blood. “Alpha, Alpha,” he breathes, clinging onto him and humping up, getting his slick all over Steve.

Steve practices his breathing to try and stay calm. He pets Bucky’s shoulders and his hair, taking deep, grounding breaths. He’s careful not to pull away, not to deny Bucky access to any part of him. The pain from the bite is gone and the euphoria is setting in, making his skin tingle, his balls throb. He can feel his knot becoming erect. Bucky is rubbing his cunt along the length of his cock, and even with his training and his certifications and his long-practiced self control, even Steve has limits.

“Hang on, Honey. Hang on now,” he says, voice low with forced calm. He shifts on his arms over Bucky so that he can get a hand at the back of the omega’s neck. He squeezes. Bucky instantly goes limp, mouth releasing from Steve’s skin with a moan as he goes slack against the blankets. Steve pants for a moment, just calming himself down. “Okay,” he says, eyes closed. “Okay baby. Just ... just gimme a minute ..."

He's been bonded to seven people in his life. It never gets easier.

The euphoria is wonderful, all-consuming, an intense physical pleasure that’s different from pure sex and is very emotional—like doing narcotics and molly at the same time. It makes it very hard not to lose his control and simply fuck into the nearest available orifice. Which right now is Bucky’s soaking wet cunt. Grunting, he forces himself to pull back. He rolls off of Bucky and gets off the bed.

Bucky’s keening protest is near-instantaneous. “Alpha!”

Steve rumbles loudly to calm him down. “Stop. Omega. Be still.” Bucky whimpers but listens, and Steve sits down on the edge of the bed. He reaches out and grabs Bucky’s hand, giving him a comforting squeeze. “Talk to me,” he coaxes, waiting for Bucky to calm down enough to communicate. “How you doing, Sweetheart?”

Bucky looks pleadingly up at him, tears leaking out the corners of his eyes. “S-steve, I’m—I need…”

Steve’s heart clenches in sympathy. It’s not easy for an assault victim to say that they need to be fucked, especially when they have as much shame and dysphoria surrounding their gender as Bucky does. “Hey,” he says lowly, leaning over and sliding his hand up Bucky’s chest. “It’s okay to ask for what you need. What do you need, Baby? Tell me.” Bucky trembles and shakes his head, upset, so Steve cups the front of his throat and presses slightly, just enough to be dominating. “Tell me now, Omega,” he says, using his Voice to make it easier for him. “Tell Alpha what you need to feel right.”

Bucky moans and thrusts his hips up uselessly. He looks to Steve, relief in his eyes. “Alpha,” he croaks. “You, please. Want you.”

“Want me how?” Steve presses, not in his Voice but still domineering. He lets his fingers dig into Bucky’s glands, sees Bucky’s blood-stained lips part in a sigh of pleasure. “You have choices,” Steve says. He’s regained some of his control now, is more clear headed as he tells him, “We don’t have to have sex if it’s not what you want. You can use my hands, or my mouth. There are toys. I can have the hospital staff bring—”

“No!” Bucky whines loudly and squirms against the hold on his neck. Both of his hands fly up and grasp at Steve’s wrist. “No, no, Alpha, please. I need… I–I n-need it.”

Steve frowns, debating whether he should push and make him say it. After a moment of watching Bucky struggle and plead uselessly, he decides that no, he’s not going to force him to voice what it is he wants so badly. They both know what it is, and the last thing Steve wants is for Bucky to feel any sort of shame right now.

Only pleasure. That’s what he’d promised.

So, taking a deep breath, Steve gives himself over to his role a little more. He’s got Bucky’s consent, or as much of it he’s able to, given the state he’s in, and now he needs to be what Bucky needs him to be. He needs to be his Alpha. “Stay still,” he orders firmly, giving a little jostle to Bucky’s neck where he’s holding him. “I’m gonna get something. Don’t move until I come back.”

Bucky whines in complaint the entire time that it takes Steve to pad over to the fridge and back, but when Steve returns, he still hasn’t moved. Steve rumbles approval in his chest for Bucky to hear. “Good boy,” he praises, sitting down on the bed and helping Bucky to prop himself up, too. “Here. Drink.” He guides the water bottle to Bucky’s lips, helping him even when the omega brings his own hands up to hold it. Steve doesn’t trust the poor thing not to spill it all over himself. Steve gulps down what Bucky doesn’t finish, tossing the bottle off to the side somewhere. His eyes stay on Bucky, trailing up and down his naked body. “You’re so beautiful, Buck,” he murmurs, reaching up to trace the side of his cheek, his temple.

It’s true. Bucky’s whole body is flushed and tense. He’s sweaty, trembling with his need for touch and stimulation. When Steve cups the front of his throat again, the omega’s eyes slip shut and stay shut. He purrs. Steve rumbles in response and uses the moment that Bucky has his eyes closed, relaxed, to stare selfishly at his body.

His little cock is thickened, a perfect, fat little nub that’s almost thicker than it is long, chubbed up and leaking little droplets. But that’s nothing compared to the mess that’s coming from his cunt. He’s soaking wet down there, a combination of shiny clear slick coating his thighs and the sheets, and thicker arousal creaming right at his entrance.

Steve growls as he’s slammed with the hot urge to stick his face down there, tongue deep inside his cunt and swallow everything the omega has to give. He looks away for a second to get himself under control. When he looks back, Bucky’s eyes are fixed on him. “Omega,” Steve grits, forced control darkening his tone. “I want to try something. Something to make you feel good. But I need you to tell me if you want it.” He watches Bucky carefully, watches his mouth and his eyes, feels the thrum of his pulse underneath his hand. He scents the air to gauge his reaction as he says, “I want to put my mouth on you. I want to eat you out. I want to make you cum that way.”

Every sign that Bucky could possibly give him that he wants it, he does. He jerks in Steve’s hold and keens, hands grappling all over Steve’s hand at his throat, up his wrist and his forearm. “Yes!” he gasps, crying a little bit in shame. Steve scents the smokey tint of it in his scent, polluting what should be nothing but pleasure and acceptance. Bucky is ashamed that he wants an alpha to touch him this way. “Sweetheart,” Steve coos, thumbing away one of the tears. But he leaves it at that. More tears follow. Steve knows he can’t expect miracles today. Bucky can cry about it if he needs. He can squirm and flush and cry while Steve pleasures him with his mouth, so long as he comes.

That’s what therapy’s for.

Steve pushes him back to lie flat on the bed. He bends over and kisses him, keeping it shallow and gentle even when Bucky gets a little bit desperate and tries to get more. Steve tuts and pushes him back into the blankets. “Be still, ‘mega,” he commands gently. “Alpha’s gonna make it better, you’ll see.” He pulls some of the soft things in from the edges of the nest, rucking them up close around Bucky’s head and shoulders, making a tight little barrier where he can feel held, safe and snug. “Okay,” he says, satisfied by how Bucky goes a little lax in the cradle of the blankets. “Yeah, there we go.”

“Alpha,” Bucky says softly, looking lost. He’s completely dependent at this point, so incredibly vulnerable that it makes Steve's cock ache.

“Sweet boy,” he murmurs. “It’s gonna be okay. Alpha’s gonna make you feel good now, okay?” He waits for Bucky to give him a slow little nod. He pecks one more kiss to his bitten-red lips, then starts trailing down his body, one kiss at a time. He’s sorely tempted to waste some time sucking at the omega’s chest. His little pink nipples are so perky and flushed, and Steve just knows he could get his breast buds to swell up so beautifully if he only paid them some attention.

But Bucky hasn’t consented to that, and Steve hasn’t asked, and he has to be very careful of treating Bucky’s body in only the ways he gives consent for and can tolerate. Bucky’s been through so much pain and he’s been forced into things no omega should ever be forced into. His experience now has to be positive. It has to.

Steve sinks down between his legs and stares at his wet cunt. He’s pulsing with arousal, his entrance contracting rhythmically, pushing out more of that cream. Steve releases a guttural moan at the intense smell of it. “Fuck,” he breathes. There’s no amount of training that could help him resist this.

He covers Bucky’s cunt with his mouth, lapping across his slit. The taste of his arousal is sharp and amazing, made even more so by the fresh effects of the bite to Steve’s bonding gland. He groans against his mound and holds him down roughly at the hips when Bucky jerks wildly.

He’s crying out, sobbing wordlessly and thrashing up against Steve’s mouth. “A—Alpha!” he gasps, sounding like he’s protesting as much as he is begging. “Oh, oh, oh!”

Steve tongues into his hole furiously, over and over again, fucking him with the muscle. He can feel Bucky fluttering around him, his body trying so hard to clamp down onto something. Steve hears the growing displeasure and desperation in the boy’s keening cries, so he reaches to push his little cocklet down flat and starts thumbing rapidly back and forth under the head.

Bucky screams and starts to come.

As soon as Steve realizes what’s happening, he moves his mouth up and takes his cock in his mouth, replacing his tongue with fingers in Bucky’s cunt. It throbs and pulses around them, milking him, drawing out the orgasm. Bucky’s hips grind up against Steve’s face and hands, and Steve can only work him through it, listening to his desperate sobs and wishing he could be kissing his face, too, whispering encouragements into his mouth as he falls apart so sweetly.

“That’s it,” he says when he’s finally let Bucky’s cocklet slip from his mouth. He’s speaking against the swell of his belly, still rocking fingers inside him as the boy twitches through the waning pleasure of his climax. “That’s it, Omega. Take it, take it. Just feel it.”

Bucky’s sobbing quietly and shaking from his core as Steve finishes guiding him through it. “S-steeve,” he keens, upset and needing reassurance. He pulls at Steve’s shoulders, urging him back up his body. Steve goes obediently, eager to calm him down now.

“Shh sh sh,” he soothes, kissing all over his face and then down to his neck. He sucks his glands on one side, pinches with his fingers on the other. “Good, you’re so good Omega. That was perfect. Alpha’s so proud of you.”

The scent of Bucky’s shame is stronger now than it was before, but it eases up the longer Steve goes on, reassuring him with touches and words and chest-deep rumbles that he’s done exactly what he’s supposed to, that he was good to take his pleasure that way and that his Alpha is so, so happy with him now.

“So good,” he kisses into his skin, scraping his teeth over the swollen glands but restraining himself from anything more. “So good for me, Bucky.” He comes up to lie over him and look down at his face. He’s beet red and tear stained, and he’s never looked more beautiful to Steve. Steve smiles softly as they both calm down, and he thumbs at his wet cheeks. “Did that feel so good, Sweetheart?”

Bucky’s lips tremble and he nods and cries a little bit more. “Yeah.”

Steve coos. He kisses him, calming him down. When Bucky’s scent is almost free from that shame and embarrassment, he pulls back and smiles down at him. “Do you have any idea how perfect you are like this?” he asks softly. “Any idea how much I want you right now?”

Beneath his body, Bucky shudders. He looks wonderingly up at Steve and whispers, “No.”

Steve hums, then lets the sound develop into a mature rumble deep in his chest. He gets off of Bucky, pulling back and getting up on his knees, sitting back on his heels. He watches Bucky, keenly aware of how the omega’s attention drops right to the proud jut of his cock between his thighs.

Taking a deep breath and trying his very best to wipe any trace of an opinion out of his voice, Steve asks, “What do you want now, Omega?”

Art: @hopelessartgeek

A.N. This ended in a stupid spot because it was getting too long. More to come!

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Tags: @scottishrosefury, @not-that-syndrigast, @lolitsbuckybarnes, @kathy-2005, @stuckysgal, @thenewmissescullen, @sapphirebarnes, @Yoruse, @autumnrose40, @alexakeyloveloki, @gretasimp, @kandismom, @ivoryangel1290, @mrs-rogers-barnes1, @iloveshawnieboi, @m0k0k0, @sousydive, @sapphirebarnes, @kandis-mom, @juicyfruit-22, @bloodrosefuryao3

[gnomishcunning]

I am begging you for anything about Sub!Rolan if you got any

less coherent more horny than normal. it's been a helluva week and i'm giving my muse cpr.

nsfw below the cut

rolan is needy

when he's horny, he constantly wants your attention.

he tends to follow you around the tower, finding a way to stay connected to you, trying to signal that he wants you to take control without having to say it

he lays across your lap, snuggles into your shoulder, winds his tail around your thigh. if he's feeling particularly frisky, it might find its way up underneath your shirt, at least til you give him the side-eye

he's a bratty sub, and you can usually tell he's Up To Something:tm: when he smirks, and a single fang digs into his bottom lip

however - he's also an absolute wimp, and it's very easy to wipe that smug look off his face. by nibbling at the tips of his ears, for example

that immediately makes him whimper.

in terms of the bedroom dynamic? he's terrified of disappointing you (sexually and as a submissive) so he'll put up a big play-fight but actually start melting the second you put your hands on him

easily persuaded by light manhandling. pull on his tail, drag him around by the collar, direct his head by holding his horns. if you wanna make him keen, thread your fingers through his hair and pull a lil bit

deeefinitely a service sub, just wants to make you feel good any way he humanly can.

put his mouth to better use. between your legs, for example

or, or, or, ask him to demonstrate somatic spell components for you at close-range

btw, the emotionally-repressed wizard is also sexually-repressed. he's got a high libido as a result, and even if he's oversensitive and cums quick, he'll be up and ready to service again within five minutes.

there's a lotta rolan dick headcanons floating around. i've got two, personally, but i wanna ask the audience: what's more likely?

average peen, 5.1" inches but with pronounced ridges

or long slim but long, 7", with a nice curve to it

[fab-bladesmith]

A Sword of Petersen type L. Pattern-welded blade with a core of 3 rods of twisted 15N20 and 1075 steel (11 layers), and a forge-welded 1075 steel edge ; brass fittings,  based on various finds from the Portable Antiquities Scheme. The 5-lobed pommel is hollow, and the tang is peened though. Grip is Bog Oak of at least 4 thousand years old, with a nice translucency under the sun thanks to its mineralisation. The scabbard has a wooden core made of two slabs, hand-carved to shape, with an inside lining  of 100% wool fabric ; this core is wrapped in linen (cloth and thread to form risers) and vegetable tanned leather, with a back stitch running to the front of the scabbard tip.   All glued with cheese (casein) glue. Lining and outer leather are whip-stitched at the throat with natural-dyed silk thread. The strap slide is carved from cow bone, and placed under the leather/linen, as fitting. Historical examples of chapes seem to correspond to very specific finds and contexts, and it was therefore decided not to put one on this set, which is more looking towards the Xth century British Isles in terms of area of inspiration. The suspension system is loosely based on the Ballateare find, though I chose not to make a lower ring/plate to allow for more versatility in adjusting the angle of the scabbard on the hip. Also, the decorated strap end was made after a find from York. All straps are vegetable tanned leather,  all fittings are brass. The worst twist to historicity here, that I tried to conceal with questionable success for the sake of these photos (though the rest is highly debatable if one is keen to go down that rabbit hole) is a family crest carved and tooled on the outer leather between the strap slide and the mouth of the scabbard - customer's request, and in those matters the customer is, for once, King. Overall length 866 mm. Blade is 731 mm long. The sword alone weighs 945 g, and the point of balance is about 20 cm down from the cross

[necros-writing-stuff]

I have Q idea how to handle a fem alpha. Would you like her with a peen or with a vagina that grips down hard when she comes, like a reverse knot?

Both, both sounds good! You’re spoiling us !!x

Eden finding you stumbling through the forest, trailing pheromones behind your every step. Quiet little whimpers escape your mouth, your attempts to suppress the sounds not working.

The huntress can't stop herself from tackling you. Can stop herself from checking you over now that she's so close, her fingers opening your mouth so that she can play with your tongue and test your gag reflex. There's no fighting back, not with your heat so far along. All you know is that a worthy alpha is here to care for you, to make the pain stop.

It crosses Eden's mind to move you to the cabin first. You're out in the open, something could attack while you're vulnerable here. But her lust conquers her logic, her hands trembling as she rips clothing from both of your bodies.

The slick pouring from your hole is as godly an ichor as any other, the huntress groaning as her tongue laps away at your hole. It twitches with every pass of her tongue, begging for more.

Eden with peen, PC with hole (note: hole could be vagina or ass).

Her knot swells, even before she can put it in. You simply smell to perfect, sound too heavenly. Eden's body shakes once again, the reality that she may finish outside of your warmth from just the sight and scent of you driving her to act.

Your skin is molten as she slides her knot into your slick heat, Eden letting out a desperate keening as her balls tighten and her legs quiver. You aren't doing much better, mumbling nonsense as your hands grab at her forearms.

Her knot swells to full size quickly, locking you into place as she begins to fill you up with her seed. Eden finds herself half-convinced that you're more than human with how long the orgasm lasts. Maybe a forest nymph of some kind, taking pleasure from a human like her.

Eden and PC have vaginas:

With no knot to penetrate you with, and no leaking omega to latch onto, Eden mounts your cunt with extra vigour. She grits her teeth, brows farrowing as she concentrates on grinding her clit against yours.

There's so much slick, it's so easy to glide your bodies against one another. Eden still keeps you close, nipping at your scent glands as she gyrates her hips around and around.

Your nails dig into her biceps, little crescent moon's forming as you cum for her. The sound of you alone pushes her over the edge, her teeth biting down and marking you for what you are: hers.

Eden with a vagina, PC with peen:

Her cunt throbs with need as your leaking cock springs loose from your clothing, the weeping head begging to be milked for all its worth. Your hips keep bucking even as Eden climbs on top, wanting nothing more than to be inside of her.

There's no time wasted as Eden slams her hips down, strong thighs helping her to keep up her pace and bring you over the edge again and again.

It gets harder for her to move the tighter her body gets, her pussy desperate to clench down. To create a seal and stop any of your seed from leaking. When it happens, it happens with a speed she hadn't expected, both of your whining as the gummy walls of her cunt tense and keep you bound to her.

She loses track of how long she spends there on the forest floor with you. You enchant her, or perhaps bewitch may be more apt a term. Pulling her mind far away from the logic of how dangerous being out in the open like this is.

Eden eventually finds herself able to pull away from your welcoming warmth. She eventually gains enough sense to pick you up and shepherd you home. Though she will admit, it's difficult carrying an omega you wish to mate with even after you've spent hours ravaging them.

[kultofathena]

Darksword – The Guardlan Sword with Integrated Sword Belt

The Darksword Armory Guardlan Viking Sword is a blend of history and modern design. Taking its inspiration from Norse culture, this battle-ready sword is hand forged and fully functional. The extra heft of the sword would be absolutely devastating in battle, capable of broad slashes that could cut down a warrior in his prime – or sweep an attacker from horseback. The elongated grip gives great leverage for powerful, two-handed strokes, but the sword remains light enough to make one-handed use feasible as well.

The blade of the Guardlan is forged from mirror-polished 5160 high carbon steel which is differentially tempered to possess a hardened edge of 60 HRc steel and a flexing, shock absorbing core of 48-50 HRc hardness. The guard and pommel are of steel and the wooden grip is bound in leather. The blade is securely anchored into the hilt with a robust peen on the pommel. Included with the sword is a wood-core scabbard which is tightly bound in leather and completed with an integrated sword belt and a protective steel chape.

The five lobed Viking is the quintessential Norse weapon from the Viking age. Numerous examples survive in museums and private collections, and virtually all of them are single-handed weapons. And with good reason – Viking hand-to-hand combat revolved around the shield, typically a wooden circle with steel cladding around the edge and a pointed steel boss. In order for the shield to function properly a single-handed weapon was necessary, and the Viking sword was a natural companion.

Viking swords are frequently reproduced by modern makers, and given the multitude of Viking swords on the market one wonders whether the market is saturated. Many reproductions however, play into the stereotype of Viking swords as little more than long cleavers – heavy, brutish weapons wielded by brutal people. These reproductions fail to capture the spirit or “function” of the Viking sword as an important step in the evolution of the European medieval swords, from earlier Romanesque style to the arming swords of the late medieval period. For the most part, Darksword Armory Viking Swords go against the modern trend of producing unbalanced, unwieldy Viking Swords.

This is what makes the Guardlan Sword so unique. For one, the blade is extended past what the average Viking would wield. The longer blade necessitates the handle being extended, turning the Guardlan into a true two-handed weapon – unlike the vast majority of Viking swords.

This is not to say that the Guardlan has no basis in history. The basic design is still within the typical typology of the Viking sword – the most authoritative typology of the Viking swords was the Peterson Typology, written by Dr. Jan Peterson in 1919. Focusing on variations in pommel and guards to formulate a 26 category scheme, Jan Perterson created a typo-logical reference to determine the date of each sub type. The distinct pommel identifies the Guardlan as a Type R, or “Five Lobe” style, one of the most recognizable types of Viking pommels.

The blade has the distinctive wide fuller and spatulate tip typical of designs from the Viking era, making it a predominantly slashing weapon. While using a Type 4 blade from the Geibig Typology, we fitted the five lobe Viking medieval sword with an extended handle that is long enough for a comfortable two handed grip. The type 4 blade, found from the mid-tenth century through the mid-eleventh century, features a slight taper and a fuller which extends the blade’s full length. The Guardlan sword is battle ready and features a 30 inch blade, forged with 5160 High Carbon Steel and dual hardened.

We carefully crafted this Viking medieval sword to reflect the Norse cultural and artistic heritage. Exceptional tools of war, the Viking medieval swords also attest to the Viking culture’s keen interest in art and aesthetic beauty. We hope you can appreciate the work that went into creating this unique piece inspired by the exceptional craftsmen of the Viking era.

[random-jot]

[ganymedesclock]

Healing, love, and violence

I love to watch mechanical restoration videos, and I think if there's something useful I take from them for the purposes of human care and feeding is that actually, a staggering amount of fixing something is actually violence.

Targeted violence. Careful violence. With exactly the right tools and paying keen attention to what lies underneath and how to save it.

But there's so much of the original broken state that needs to be tenderized further in order to be helped.

It's easy to anthropomorphize and say this takes a position of trust. There is an intense pathos to the vulnerability of a broken object on the worktable, with its dents and damages. Stripping the layer of rust off something just reveals how far into the material the rust has eaten. Sometimes parts of it cannot be saved, and must be hacked and dug out of the original.

I think that we like to think of healing as a gentle, sweet, tender thing, and while it is ideally benevolent, good bedside manner is a requirement because of the intimacy of a broken state.

I've heard wildlife rehabbers say many times that extreme docileness in a wild animal is dangerous. When we throw ourselves completely on the mercy of others care, we are usually in a very dire position. Even the friendliest people have boundaries and privacy.

It can be gratifying, to be under the knife to someone else, all your parts laid bare, all your damages and injuries. In the vivisection lies the potential of every dream we might have of being understood.

However, this is also the position in which we can be misunderstood, denied, exploited, hurt- and it is a position when such decrees may well destroy us. We speak with heaving romanticism about the heart as the ultimate gift, to a sweetheart, to a parent, to a child, the ventricles laid as plain as they will ever be, our frail pulsing life in their trusted, cherished fingers.

But dearly beloved we were born with ribs for a reason. Such a thing is locked away from the very conception of ourselves. Our most loving embraces, heart-to-heart, are actually sternum-to-sternum, rib-to-rib. Layers of tissue and separation. We need this.

To open the heart is to create a place where there is nowhere to run. And it is very sweet to imagine a world where you would never need to hide, even if it is only the world of one other person.

We will not get to choose every table we crawl upon, and every knife that takes us apart.

And yet. Even the most private and closed away parts of ourselves, on some level, yearn to be aired.

Sometimes, to love something is to tear it open.

Sometimes, to love something is to leave it untouched.

Both can be salvation. Both can be ruin.

I watch footage of anonymous hands prying a metal basin apart, with fire and hammers. Their fingertips grace a dent, a wound as unknowable as the investigator themselves. They take a rubber mallet, then a ball peen hammer. Bang, bang, bang. Violence. The edge is smoothed.

There is a comfort in the confines of a video. It has a narrative, a script. Unlike a relationship, it is confined just to this operating theater. I know it won't break. The object waits patiently, the perfect victim. Actor and acted-upon, no blurring.

We spend most of our lives committing self-surgery of one type or another.

[modx-reborn]

MODDD help i’m having foolish brainrot. he’s been around for a long time, right?? so he has lots of experience. thinking about corruption kink with him. you’re not a virgin by any means, but you’ve only had very vanilla sex a few times. imagining him just completely corrupting you so only he can get you off🥴🥴 -kayla

OOP! You also understand this gave me the drive to draw foolish right? I will share them but you have given me the drive to draw the double shark peen.

You were no stranger to the vertical tango, the bedsheet bunching, or the two man wet and wild ride, but compared to the elder immortal that was foolish you may as well have been an untouched flower, blushing and trembling at every brush and glance that he sent you way. The was so much yet to be learnt and so much to be experienced as he guided you a little further down the path of pleasure each time he had you all to himself, tangled in his sheets calling his name.

There was nothing quite like watching as his hooded head disappeared between your legs, his usually boisterous noises replaced by your own loud cries and moans of his name, pleading for the god that had taken such a keen interest in your pleasure to give you more, more, more and to never stop even as the touch he was bestowing on you had you shaking and almost flinching away as it began to overwhelm and bleed that line between true pleasure and pain.

But the true measure of how much you had fallen into his well skilled hands comes when he leaves, lying in the dark of your own home, hands trying desperately to make you feel like he had, moving in a cheap imitation of his hands and muttering small 'No's and 'please' into the night as no matter what you do the familiar feeling of need simply builds and builds, never tipping over only simmering and waiting for when he would come back to you, when you would get to fall back into callused and strong hands.

That stain of the golden god was well worn into your skin, and had dipped the glimmering corruption of pleasure at his hands into the seems that made your own touch a mere brushing glimpse of what your really wanted.

[howlingartbean]

Demon Boi's N/SFW Headcanons

!Minors Do Not Interact!

Man, somebody is about to send my ass to horny jail. This is long so it's put underneath read more. I'll do a 2nd part tomorrow.

Characters: Ace, Marco

Gender Neutral?: Yes.

Tag: @cyborg-franky

- 𝔄𝔠𝔢 -

- To give you a brief rundown of what Ace looks like as a Demon. His skin is an ombre of black, reddish-orange to yellow at his chest. Even his dick and tongue have an ombre.

- The first time he showed his dick to you, all you can think is, 'damn, this boy is ridged af.' His dick is like a bad dragon so use that for your imagination 😎

- The Lighthouseᵀᴹ

- His cock is an ombre of red to yellow, red at the base, and yellow at the tip. His tip is a bit pointy just so you know, reminder, he is ridged. It is fat at the base.

- Ace cum is so damn warm and he cums in thick globs, he's a demon, whaddya expect. He goes feral when he sees it drips out of you or is painted across your chest. He does let out a snarling growl when he finishes.

- His tongue is long and thick, that bad boy could reach places no other can. He's going to have your eyes rolling to the back of your head and toes curling in the air. Peen? he'll have it wrapped around, moving it up and down sensually. Clit? he's rolling it around, flicking that ombre tongue back into his mouth with a happy hum before diving back in with such a hunger.

- He's a switch but he can be a dom if you're a sub or just be a sub if you're a dom. He's down either way. He'll just pop whenever you masturbate and watch from the shadows.

- Ace can be kinky though he is limited, anything that deals with body fluids is a no. He does not blood play, yes, he nips but that's about it. He does like marking you up tho, the idea of seeing you marked makes his inner desires croon in delight.

- Do watch out for the horns! Though he does like it when you grab onto them whether you're facesitting or he's giving you a blowjob.

Happy growls left his lips as his cock slipped in and out of you feverishly. Yellowed irises watched lustfully as your form bounced up and down on him, his hands resting on your hips, rubbing circles into your heated skin. Puffs of smoke escape his lips when you ground down onto him. A loud squelch reaches his ears erupting a breathless chuckle from him,

"Look at you, making an absolute mess on me. Think you can take another load?"

Before you can get a word in, he already lets go, releasing a low hiss from him and whining from you. He pulls back with keen eyes, watching a dollop of his cum escape you and onto the bed.

"Fuck," Ace groans.

- 𝔐𝔞𝔯𝔠𝔬 -

- I haven't gotten far on what he would look like as a demon so you can imagine him however you want.

- His dick, just like Ace, is like a bad dragon except it's not that ridged. That bitch is thick in his demon form. He got a knot at the base. The head is fat so good luck.

- Say thanks to Franky for this. His cum is bioluminescent... he leaves behind a blue tint on your skin. That's all I'm going to say. It's not really thick, just runny. Is it safe? yes. in real life, the actual thing? no, do stay away from them as they are harmful since they produce a type of toxin.

- Back to his dick, it is a pale blue but due to the bioluminescent, it does glow. Not that bright yet not so dull. It's literally pretty to look at.

- Nightlightᵀᴹ

- Marco doesn't have a long tongue, it's just a regular one. Though that doesn't stop him from using it like a pro. Got that jaw strength, he'll go to town like it's a buffet down there and he's starved.

- He's definitely the one to use his tail/s as bondage or rub them against your sex.

- He's down whenever you want to have sex, literally, you can summon him for it or whenever you're just sexually frustrated. He can switch, he doesn't mind. He's open to anything, he wants to explore with you or try anything you wish to try. The only thing he does not like is being called daddy, call him sir or commander in bed. Also such a fuckin' tease.

- Does he have horns? yes, they are thin and spiraled with gold details on them so do be careful too with them. While he does like the idea of them being grabbed, he's just not fond of having a possible broken horn.

One of his golden tails brushed against your sex teasingly before pulling away when you bucked your hip. A delighted hum leaves him as you let out a displeased groan,

"Marcooo, quit teasing!" He chuckles, watching you wiggle around like a worm in his grasp. He tightens his tails lightly, a crooked smile gracing his features at the strangled moan that passed your lips. Marco pulls your body towards, rubbing his cock on your skin, smearing his precum around, and leaving behind a blue tint.

"I had to get you all prepare to take me yoi," He whispered.

He pulls his hips back and pressed against your entrance, lightly prodding and occasionally slipping in. A long, high-pitched moan reached his ears causing him to smirk in victory.

"Let's see if you can take the knot," He purred.

[deanky]

Poem

I.M. Nice & U.R. Mean I.M. Fat & U.R. Lean

I.M. Dull & U.R. Keen I.M. Hidden U.R. Keen

I.M. Rice & U.R. Beans I.M. Grandpa U.R. Teen

I.M. Dean & U.R. Gene I.M. Poop & U.R. Peen

[ahappydnp]

what fic of yours have you forgotten the content of the most, like if you were to read it you’d be the most surprised by the writing/content? on the flip side- which fic is most memorable for you? and have you ever quoted/used a line from one of your fics in a real life conversation?

Echo you’re so lovely :3

Ooooo that’s hard because I do have like...a weirdly good memory and I have a hard time forgetting most things BUT probably Devan? Because I feel like we’ve learned so much since I wrote it and I’ve forgotten most of my own reasonings behind it alskdkkdfn

Most memorable? I’ve got two for wildly different reasons. No One Else is one I remember being particularly proud of and like when I’m trying to encourage myself that’s generally the first one that comes to mine? And then Have The Courage To Exist solely because of what I was going through at the time. I wrote that in the middle of one of my deepest depressive episodes I’ve ever had and I projected just..a lot of my own self hatred in that fic and a part of me wants to take it down because I’m not particularly proud of the content, but I am proud of what came after it? If that makes any sense? It’s a moment in my personal history I guess and I like to remember how far I’ve come

Oh noooooo ahhhhhh alskskdkd I have! I was coming out to someone last year and we were discussing how uhhhh things hadn’t happened for a few years between me and my ex and me being the absolute dumbass I am just blurts out “Yeah, I’m not keen on the peen” which in and of itself is embarrassing but it was a quote from Drunk in Love (aka how many dick puns can Phil make- silly for your willy/ keen for the peen)

[star-the-honeybun]

Mario:Who's this mysterious man in a mask?

Peach:Who carries his shroom shake in a flask?

Mimi:Who is this stranger? What does the L mean?

Mr. L:Who is this sexy man with a 10 inch long peen?

Count Bleck:Is this the mysterious man in green?

Dimentio:He seems to be, so very keen.

Browser:Cut the act, you edgy fuck.

Thoreau:or I will throw at you some yuck!

Boomer:I wonder, I wonder, who could it be?

Player:IT'S FUCKING LUIGI!

[kultofathena]

Vision – The Lyon Sword Collaboratively Crafted by Angus Trim and Valiant Armoury

The Valiant Armoury X Angus Trim Vision Line is a collaborative effort between famed swordmakers Angus Trim and Valiant Armoury. Models will be released in limited batches. After a production run, the model will not be available again for another 12 to 24 months.

Vision creates premium, entirely made in the USA swords that meld Trim’s magnificently optimized performance blades with the hilt design, robust construction and superior leatherwork that is the hallmark of Sonny and Zach Suttles at Valiant Armoury. The final product preserves the ideal blade harmonics and balance needed for each sword to perform to its fullest potential and is a heirloom-tier sword.

The blade of the Lyon arming sword is swift and powerful cutting sword and is crafted from 5160 high carbon steel with a spring-tempered hardness of 51-53 HRc and finished with a keen, sharp edge. The hot-peen construction that melds the blade and hilt together at the pommel gives this sword a very strong and lasting hilt construction. The crossguard and pommel are crafted from steel with an antiqued finish and the grip is carved from Poplar and tightly bound in leather to complete the sword. The matching scabbard is crafted to the high standards that are to be expected from Sonny and Zach at Valiant Armory – the wood core is wrapped in high quality genuine leather with metal fittings and completed with a thick leather sword belt which can be adjusted to size.

[jandjsalmon]

Not to shade you or anything, but ask yourself whether do you REALLY care about Sprousehart or Riverdale. Or do you just follow them because they have more contents. I have been following you and unfollowing you for quite a while because I do not see any love. You seem more keen on Dylan which is fine but I have an impression that deep down you are irritated by the fandom and SH in general. I may be wrong but that is my impression. I am not keen on fan fic tho. So maybe my dash is different.

Like I said earlier, I’m in a FOUL mood today - so I’m going to take your criticisms one by one and address them instead of ignoring them (as I do with most messages from people who don’t own their opinions and send cowardly unkind anons). You can thank the headache later.

…ask yourself whether do you REALLY care about Sprousehart or Riverdale. Or do you just follow them because they have more contents. 

Do I really care about Sprousehart or Riverdale? Yes. Yes I do. Thank you for suggesting the self evaluation. 

I’m invested in Bughead, Sprousehart, and Riverdale (as an actual fan who still watches and doesn’t continually moan about how “much better season one was” - how’s that for being a super special unicorn in this fandom?) - and maybe my interest is not illustrated on my blog in a way that makes YOU satisfied, Grayface - but it is in a way that makes me happy. This is not a blog dedicated solely to any of those few things. It’s a multifandom blog… you know, like those fun posts that point out that not everyone has a sideblog for every interest? Yeah, like that.

Do I really care about those things? Yeah. I just don’t need to track the locations of two actual real people and moan about whether maybe one might be cheating or whether one is too good for the other, or whether their relationship is just PR, or whether their lesbian friends are really not lesbians at all because they MUST be wanting the magical peen that can’t be controlled. I don’t NEED that kind of drama in my life - so I have filtered that garbage out of my fandom experience because those parts of their lives are NONE of my business and because I’m here to enjoy my free time.

AND what does it even mean “do I just follow them because they have more contents”? I’m at a loss, dude. First “follow” who? Are you asking if I’m just pretending to enjoy thing things that I say I enjoy? Like the hyperfixation is my identity or something? Are you implying that my value in the world matters only by what I reblog here? Look, I’ve had this blog since 2012. I still have followers from 2012. I have gone through MANY a fandom and gained MANY a follower from the various hyperfixations - but it is Riverdale that I have fricking POURED my heart into. If you honestly believe I’m NOT invested in this fandom and that I don’t care about these things - then I wish you would tell my family that, because they would argue that with the hours and hours of time I spend beta reading Bughead fanfiction, finding LOST Bughead stories for people on a blog I created over two years ago and have run almost exclusively on my own (I’m so appreciative to K and MM but both have taken huge hiatuses over the past two years and I was left quite literally to run the blog alone) - they would argue that I spend more time with everyone here than I do with them. So tell me how that’s just sticking with a fandom because it has more “contents”? O.o

I have been following you and unfollowing you for quite a while because I do not see any love. 

I apologize for not showing you all the love that you think a true fan should effuse. I wonder what the magic number is. What does the right amount of love look like? Is there a quota for how much content must just be Cole and Lili or Bughead? Because #bughead is my number one tag and I tag almost everything so what exactly am I not doing enough to show you that I actually LOVE them? How can I prove to you that I actually like them? What will satisfy you?

And honestly - why are you following me at all, Grayface? You don’t need to keep following and and unfollowing. As evidenced by the fact that instead of sending a message as a friend - or even just signing your name in an Ask and owning your opinion - you clearly don’t want me to know who you are - and that means you probably don’t mean all that much to me either. You honestly don’t need to keep refollowing. I won’t even notice you’re gone. 

You seem more keen on Dylan which is fine but I have an impression that deep down you are irritated by the fandom and SH in general. 

This is actually the most laughable bit of your rant. I am keen on Dylan. I really am. I like him a lot. It’s not a secret. I’ve had many a mean anonymous message about it actually. While I liked Bughead and Cole first, it’s true - I also like Dylan. But here’s the thing - I’m allowed. I am also super keen on Matthew Sprouse. In fact, if there was more “content” about him, I would probably happily curate my blog and dedicate it just to him and to Magnus (who is actually my favourite Sprouse). Do you also go to the people who post a lot about The 100 or Olicity or Star Wars or Brooklyn 99 and tell them they don’t love SH and Bughead enough too? 

Am I irritated with the fandom and SH in general? I’m not irritated with Sprousehart. They are two beautiful people in love and I LOVE their love. Their love makes me SO happy for them. I appreciate every single thing they choose to share with us on social media whilst respecting that it is a TINY portion of their life. I love them as individuals - I’ve grown to care about their families and their friends. I love that they come together and share those moments together (whether they show them to us or not). I love the fun of speculating things like “will Lili wear wedge heels to Duan’s wedding so she doesn’t get stuck in the grass?” - but I do not feel the need to reblog every movement - every like on Instagram. This is not a dedicated sprousehart blog. There are other blogs that will do that - and that’s super and hopefully brings them joy (you should follow them) - but that’s not the point of the jandjsalmon blog that has been here since 2012. I do not need to track the social media movements of two people whom I will never meet and whom would not remember me in fifteen minutes if I DID meet them. One thing people who get overly invested forget is that while SH means a LOT to us we mean literally nothing (as individuals) to them. They appreciate their fans and they are touched when people are kind and supportive. But we literally are not their friends. We don’t matter - no matter how often you pay the exorbitant amount of money to have a photo with them at a convention or how often you have a fan photo with them on the street or how often you send them flowers or presents on set. The faves do not think about any of us individually when they lay their heads on their pillows at night. I love seeing their beautiful faces and their beautiful clothes and I support them 100% in their endevours - whether it’s in Riverdale or their other projects - but their life is not my life. And though I’ve not always been this way - I have enough wherewithal now to be able to take a step back from obsession and move into “passive fandom enjoyment.” It’s a good feeling.

So I’m not irritated with SH. But who I AM irritated with are people who think that a friendship with King Princess must mean Cole is cheating on his girlfriend with her. It’s offensive to both Cole and KP even if she wasn’t out and proud, but it’s extra gross with how it’s ignoring her sexual identity. I AM irritated with people who I can only assume are insecure adults who’ve never been in a healthy relationship or are adolescents who think relationships must be codependent and unhealthy or they aren’t “twu love” and must be “on the rocks.” I’m irritated with people who on one hand say they’re Lili supporters and “only want the best for her” because “she deserves better” but then go on to think that she is a stupid child who can’t possibly have a mind of her own because her boyfriend is totally abusing her and she’s just letting it happen. That annoys and irritates me because it takes away her agency and infantilizes her - at the same time as it criticises and hurts the person she loves “with her whole heart” (thank you Mama Reinhart for that quote). SO if you’re one of those SH bloggers who say and do that? Then yes - YOU irritate me. 

But the whole community? Heck no. There are some amazing people here who love SH and are just here for the fun! Really kind and funny people. Really loving and sweet people who just love to get excited about stuff. I LOVE those people. I want to be around more of those people - but I gotta tell you, having mass panic on my dashboard was not good for my mental health. It’s not good for anyone’s mental health to panic about things they have absolutely no control over. So maybe I unfollowed you a while ago and you’re salty about it. I’m sorry - but I’m not sorry. I gotta curate my dash to make myself happy. 

I may be wrong but that is my impression. I am not keen on fan fic tho. So maybe my dash is different. 

Perhaps your dash is different, Grayface. You must not follow a lot of the same people I follow - or maybe my original post wasn’t for you? If that’s the case - then maybe you didn’t need to be so unkind in an Anonymous message. I dunno. This whole thing maybe could have been avoided. Honestly - if you feel my blog doesn’t have enough of the content you like - then you shouldn’t follow me. You should follow blogs that DO make you happy. No one tied you to the bed frame and made you follow (and then unfollow and then refollow) me. 

It’s no secret - I’m here for the fic. I love fanfiction. I particularly love Bughead fanfiction. (interestingly enough - I love paperlesscrown’s Sprousehart fanfiction too… heck - I even beta read it). But my dash isn’t just fanfiction- it just so happens that I’ve met and made friends with a lot of fic writers and lovers over the last three years and we all follow each other and therefore there are going to be days where we all reblog the same stuff. My post this morning was exasperation because the same fanfic was literally reblogged on my dash 18 times within about a half hour from when I woke up this morning. So I lashed out inappropriately. I said “holy cow we look like we all only follow each other - clearly we all need new friends” - and it would have been a non-issue when I took a breather from tumblr, had a cookie, and checked back. I probably would have even laughed about it - or at the very least, deleted the post.

But then you (and the Anon before) had to go and send a message like this. 

How incredibly unkind of you, Grayface. Honestly - if you DO follow me, please stop. I’m clearly not the blog for you. You don’t want to be my friend. And I kinda don’t want to be yours either. I don’t want to have friends who send anonymous messages to other people to tell them all the things that you feel is wrong with them. That’s not my brand. Find your fun somewhere else. Better yet, block me and then you never have to see my lack of support and ill-quality as a Bughead, Riverdale, or Sprousehart fangirl ever again.