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oncasette · 10 months

Note

song lyric prompts : “it’s hard to steer when you’re breathing in my ear but i got both hands on the wheel while you got both hands on my gears.” + jake seresin!! (*kicking my feet and squealing*)

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗗𝗘𝗩𝗜𝗟 𝗡𝗘𝗘𝗗𝗦 𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗗𝗘

jake seresin x fem!reader

summary: 1k

You can feel the rumble of his voice before he asks, “Whatcha up to, Sugar?”

“Giving you a taste of your own medicine,” you whisper and you revel in the shudder that washes over his body as you bring one of your hands down to rest on his belt buckle.

or the one where jake works you up enough that you feel the need to retaliate.

warnings: not beta’d, smut, road head (m! recieving), blue balls i guess

masterlist | taglist

You’re two hours into your road trip–a vacation you’d hands planned for months, at this point–when you crack. And it was all Jake’s fault, too. You were going to shoulder exactly zero percent of the blame even if you were the first one to break.

You’d been huffy since the two of you had left your apartment, arms crossed over your chest and your teeth grinding all the while your boyfriend was showing off all his pearly whites in the biggest, toothiest smile he’d sported since you’d agreed to go out with him for the first time.

He’d taken your suitcase from you with little more than a delicate pinch at your hip, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth after he got all of your luggage situated in the trunk of the car and moved around to open the passenger door for you. You’d thanked him, of course, but it’d been short and quiet and much less appreciative than it usually sounded when he did those kinds of small acts of kindness for you.

But it wasn’t your fault, okay, not when he’d been denying you the only thing you’d been asking for all damn morning. He’d started by waking you up from one of your very indulgent dreams about him–a side effect of having a boyfriend that went on missions that sometimes lasted longer than just a couple days–after coming home at 3:30 in the morning. Then, he’d had the gall to work you up with his fingers dipping into the waistband of your sleep shorts moments after you’d been dragged from your sleep, only to leave you high and dry when he opted to take a quick shower instead. Alone. Then, to top it all off, he’d worn the tiniest, itty-bittiest t-shirt known to man.

Now, here you were, knees and thighs clenched so tight together in the front seat of his truck that you think they were completely stuck together with his right hand pressing into the meat of your leg.

You can’t take it anymore. Shifting your eyes around your periphery, you make sure the road is deserted enough before you lean onto the center console with the bulk of your weight. He glances over at you for a split second, one eyebrow quirked in question, before he refocuses on the interstate ahead of him. You push up just enough so that your lips are touching the shell of his ear.

You can feel the rumble of his voice before he asks, “Whatcha up to, Sugar?”

“Giving you a taste of your own medicine,” you whisper and you revel in the shudder that washes over his body as you bring one of your hands down to rest on his belt buckle.

A very gutteral groan escapes him as you begin to undo it. He brings the hand previously resting on your thigh to white knuckle the wheel. He’s tense. Good.

Your hand slips in, completely bypassing his briefs, once you’ve got the belt undone enough and the zipper down. You can feel him growing under your touch. Hot and pulsing as you drag your palm over his sensitive skin.

“Baby?” he asks. Offering him a hum in response, you grip him fully. “Are you sure about this?”

You watch his eyes flicker up to the rearview mirror.

“Yep.”

He swallows.

You’re content to stroke his length as he hardens in your grip, beads of his pre-cum pearling at the tip and aiding in your journey up and down his twitching cock. He bucks his hips once and you’re quick to pull your hand out of his pants completely. You swear to god you hear the man whine.

Despite his previous apprehension, he lifts his hips when you begin tugging his pants and boxer briefs down. Just enough for his dick to spring out, red and angry at the head as it rests against his stomach. You test the waters as you lean down to lick the slit.

“Eyes on the road, Handsome,” you say when his head falls back against the headrest. His speed had begun to fluctuate significantly, and you’re glad you’d only seen three or so other cars in the last half hour.

“Fuck,” he grumbles when you take his tip between your lips. One of your hands wraps around his base, gathering the bit of drool already dripping down the sides of him as you begin to shallowly pump what wasn’t in your mouth. God, you don’t think you’ll ever be able to get over just how big he was. You hollow out your cheeks as you begin to take him deeper, deep enough that you feel him pressing into the back of your throat. Your tongue lazily grazes against the thick vein running along the underside of his cock.

“Oh, shit,” he moans. “You feel like fucking heaven.”

The comment has you humming around him, an action that sharply shoots his hips up. Pulling off of him, you use your hand to collect the saliva that had pooled as you raggedly catch your breath. It’s only a few seconds, though, until you’re swirling your tongue around the head again. His hand comes down to rest at the back of your head. Not pushing, or guiding, just following your movements.

You keep up with your ministrations, your other hand coming in to gently hold onto his thigh, until Jake says, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, baby. I’m gonna cum.”

It’s only then that you pull away completely, thumb coming up to swipe away the string of spit still connecting you to his dick and you watch with a newfound glint in your eye as his cock twitches helplessly against his stomach.

“What- Fuck,” he heaves.

“You started this,” you say, and it takes him a second in his haze, but you can see him recollect the puddle he’d left you in that morning.

“You’re satan, you know that?” he asks as you tuck him back into his underwear. “Whatever you say, handsome.” You offer him a kiss at the corner of his mouth.

“Satan,” he says again. “And you are so in for it when we get to the hotel.” “I would hope so,” you say.

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #hangman #hangman x reader #jake seresin smut #hangman smut #glen powell #glen powell smut #glen powell x reader #top gun #top gun maverick

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azsazz · 25 days

Text

Over Ice (Part 2)

Hockey!Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Anon Req: She’s walking around Campus and BOOM right smack dab into Broody McBrooder!! She THEN finds out he’s the tutor for one of her hardest courses (personally Psych would be a good one) and they become super duper close with him and the team!!!

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 3122

(Part 1)

_________________________________________

“When you said you got me a t-shirt,” you sigh, once again adjusting the hem of the jersey Mor provided you. Notshirt; jersey. The bottom of the Velaris Bats uniform has been trimmed—startlingly low. Or is it cut too high; you wonder with a swallowed curse. The damned thing nearly shows off your entire midriff. “I thought you meant, like, a normal fucking shirt and not whatever this is.”

Mor scoffs, shoveling a handful of popcorn into her mouth as she weaves her way through the throng of people towards your seats. Her long strides in her black heels hard to keep up with. “That is a Mor Original, and I only made it cuter,” she huffs indigently, like your discomfort is the sole inspiration behind her “designs.”

This isn’t the first time you’ve allowed Mor to pick out your outfit, but it’s definitely going to be your last, you try to remind yourself. The handful of times you’ve thought this exact thing before is laughable, and you’ve never once remembered. She’ll continue to cut the hems of shirts and alter skirts into even shorter skirts until the end of time, probably.

She’s been the crafty type since you first met her. Anything that she could add personality to was subject for a good old shot of “Mor’s Touch:” clothing, home décor, even the cocktails she mixes—which often go from something as simple as a Dirty Shirley and turning it into a cherry-passionfruit with a hint of lime drink, mixed with tonic instead of Sprite and garnished with a frilly umbrella stuck through three Maraschino cherries because “one is simply not enough.”

You agree, and you’d never admit to your eccentric roommate that it’s the most delicious drink you’ve ever had. Goes down like lemonade and has you going from a corner-stander to someone in the center of the dancefloor in two drinks flat.

You wish you had one right about now to get you through the night.

Your mind wanders to Gwyn back at the dorms, wondering what she’s going to be getting up to tonight. You don’t need to wonder, you know how your red-headed roommate prefers to spend her nights, curled up on the couch beneath a thick blanket, a bag of chocolate-covered pretzels within reach, and her laptop in her lap, creating fantasy worlds for her characters to live in some day.

A surge of pride for your roommate fills your energy tank. Sometimes people truly do find exactly what they were made for in life, and Gwyn was born to write. You’ve only read a few snippets she’s been willing to share, but you can’t fathom forming sentences the way she does, creating worlds and characters from her mind alone, seeing a vision in your mind so clear that it would be a crime not to share it with the world.

You’re not sure you’ve ever loved something that much, but Sports Medicine is pretty damn close. Psychology, is not.

You shiver as the cold of the arena hits the sliver of skin that’s exposed itself once again while you were taking a sip of your drink. Goosebumps pebble in response, coursing over the entirety of your body within seconds, causing you to shiver.

You should’ve fought Mor harder about bringing your jacket, but at least she left you sleeves, her shirt has been cut into a tank that hardly reaches the bottom of her ribs, and there’s a deep cut down the collar, creating a perfect ‘V’ that shows off her incredible tits.

You’d know, you’ve seen them before.

“Oh. My. Gosh. You two look so good,” a girl gushes, steps into you and Mor’s path, halting you from your first steps down the stairs to your seats. She’s chipper, a camera poised in her hands, the thick strap around her neck. He shiny, chestnut hair is braided into two tails, draped across her shoulders.

Behind her thin-framed glasses, her bright blue eyes sparkle with excitement as she peruses you and your roommate up and down, admiring your outfits.

“I told you,” Mor murmurs, elbowing you in the side before raising her voice to answer. “Thank you so much! I spent all day on these, and this one doesn’t appreciate my hard work at all. It’s a refreshing change of pace to hear a compliment instead of ‘Mor, don’t you think this is a little too much?’” You scrunch your nose at Mor’s terrible impression of you. Too nasally, too annoying.

The photographer laughs like it’s her full-time job, and you scowl.

Way to throw me right under that speeding bus, Mor.

“Do you mind if I take your picture for the team’s social media account? You two would make a great first slide in a carousel for school spirit,” she gets this faraway look in her eyes as if she’s picturing it now. “The interaction you’d get us,” she sighs dreamily. “I might even get promoted.”

You groan internally when Mor perks up even further. “I think I love you,” she blurts, pupils heart-shaped. “Do you want to sit with us? We have an extra ticket.” She’s bought one for Gwyn, hoping she would join in on this sporty girl’s night, but your other roommate had been adamant about her dislike of the sport, and had gotten a pass while you were dressed up like a doll and dragged out of the dorm.

The girl’s laugh is like a windchime, soothing and melodic. “I wish I could, but duty calls,” she waves her camera around in answer. “Maybe I’ll catch you at one of the after parties, though. Here, you can give me your Instagram and I’ll DM you after tagging you in the photos.”

She and Mor exchange socials and names. Feyre. It’s unique and suits her well.

After adding your own Instagram on her phone, you hand the phone back, posing with Mor. Of course, knowing your roommate as you do, it’s not just one picture that Feyre takes. They’re both beaming, and one picture turns into ten. Ten poses, nine sips of your drink because you don’t know what the hell else to do. Eight frantic smiles, seven internal sighs, and six side-eyes from passerby, trying to find their seats. Five giggles from friends, four embarrassed blushes, three warnings that you are so done with this, two people ignoring you, and one announcement overhead signaling the start of the game in a few minutes.

“So nice to meet you, Feyre,” Mor calls as you begin guiding her away. You have no clue where you’re going, but any movement closer to any empty seat is better than the photoshoot you just had in the middle of the walkway. With a parting smile at the photographer, Mor continues, like she’s all for standing there all night instead of supporting her cousin on the ice. “Message me!”

“Clingy, much?” You grunt at the poke to the arm that gets you.

“Oh, come on! It’s not like I’m going to replace you,” she scoffs with a brush of her long blonde hair over her shoulder. You swear, the guys sitting in the front row swoon. “Besides, you can never have too many friends. It’s not possible.”

You’re pretty sure it is possible to have too many friends, but you keep that thought to yourself. You suppose you have one more spot in your life for a friend, but if the pictures turn out terrible and are blasted on the Bat’s Instagram, that spot might disappear. You’re already feeling mortified enough from the public display of taking photos.

“Yeah, yeah,” is what you decide to go with. “Now, where are our seats?”

“I don’t like the look of that,” you mutter wearily, squinting to see what’s happening on the ice. You might not know anything about hockey, but you know malicious intent when you see it. It’s in the way that the Penguin’s player leans closer to the Bat’s center, nudging his shoulder as he speaks, his slimy grin growing with each jab.

The game’s been fun so far, much to your surprise. The crowd surrounding you is all for the team, chanting songs that you need to learn immediately because they’re so much fun. The music that blasts around the stadium during every break is on-point, not too old of songs and not too overplayed like at the one football game you’d been dragged to last year (also by Mor, but not because of a family member on the team, because of an entirely different member.)

“Is that my cousin?” She asks, brown eyes sharp as she examines the players. Their fronts are to you, no seeing the names painted across the back of their jerseys. You refrain from mentioning how Mor should at least know her own cousin’s number—since their written on the sleeves—but you keep that thought to yourself when her red painted nails tighten around the box of popcorn, crushing the flimsy cardboard. The strain of the muscle in her jaw matches the boy on the ice’s, you notice with a fleeing glance at your roommate.

Tension coils your gut. You find your fingers wrapping around the edge of the seat you’re perched in, gripping the bleachers so tightly that you swear you feel the cool metal warming and warping.

You’re not the only two who have noticed the shift in the moods of the players on the ice, parts of the crowd are beginning to rise from their seats, cheering growing from a low rumble to a thunder of screams, caws, and jeering.

The puck is barely a millimeter from the referee’s hand before sticks are thrown to the ice, gloves following as the two players slowly begin to circle each other. It looks like something out of an animal documentary: two predators about to snap at each other’s throats in a fight for the territory.

The anticipation of them going blow for blow lights a fire deep within your belly, your core perking up for attention.

You shouldn’t be thinking like this, shouldn’t get getting turned on by the idea of two boys about to knock each other’s teeth out. Should be thinking about your best friend’s cousin like this at all.

Shooting a guilty glance at your roommate, you breathe a soft sigh of relief that’s swallowed by the shouts of the crowd when you see that Mor hasn’t picked up on your sudden shift in mood—both mentally and physically.

All the players on the ice slide back to make room for the brawl that’s about to break out and a sick feeling bubbles in your stomach, almost overpowering the arousal as you wonder why no one is attempting to stop them.

There isn’t time to voice your concern, isn’t time to do anything except bolt to your feet with a gasp so harsh it sears your lungs when the Penguin’s player is the first to swing. Your heart is lodged in your throat, your breathing holding in your throat as you watch in anticipation. He lashes out with a curled fist so fast that by the time you blink, it’s over.

His hit doesn’t land.

There’s no time to feel the relief trying to rush through your veins because the Bat’s center is retaliating, throwing himself forward after swiftly dodging the attack. He grabs the other boy by the collar of his ice blue uniform and hauls him into his closed fist.

His opponents helmet goes flying off with the snap of his head backwards. He stumbles, but manages to stay upright, snagging a handful of the Bat’s jersey to try and steady himself.

You look to the benches flanking the ice, wondering why no one is joining the fray. It’s now that you realize it’s not that they don’t want to help their teammate who is quickly ducking away from another fist, it’s because they can’t.

There’s a boy standing nonchalantly, hazel eyes pinned on the scene before him. He looks eager almost, leaning so casually against his stick, chin propped on the edge of it like he’s watching the newest action movie from the best spot in the house.

Even the goalie seems to be unconcerned, taking the few moments he has to take a swig of water and adjust his helmet, squatting low and shooting side to side in his box, as if trying to keep limber for when the game resumes.

One of the refs is attempting to hold back a burly boy who seems much too large to be skating at all. His helmet has also been shucked off, revealing long, shoulder length wet hair that clings to his face and neck like a bee on honey. His gloves are abandoned on the ice too, and his stick has skidded to a stop upon hitting the sideboards nearby. You can’t make out the words he’s shouting, but with the feral grin you make out, you know they’re fighting words. With each bark he seems to be inching closer, like the full-grown man in the stripes trying to hold him back is nothing more than a soft breeze, and his is a twister barreling right through.

When he shakes his head, you catch sight of a bloodthirsty grin that has a shiver sliding up your spine. He’s enjoying this?

“Mor,” your worry tries to escape, only for the words to stick in your throat as more noises join the fight, loud as gunshots. Both the Bat’s and the Penguin’s players are rapping their hockey sticks against the boards separating their benches from the ice, war cries falling from their lips.

They’re all enjoying this.

“That is my cousin,” Mor screeches, her perfectly plucked brows pulled tight as she tries finally makes out the number on the back of the jersey that’s gripped so tightly in the offending players grip that you’re pretty sure the stitches are popping with the force. “Kick his fucking ass, Rhys!”

Casting a frantic look to your roommate, you realize that not even she seems to be fazed by the fact that her cousin is in the middle of a fight that could very seriously end badly, especially with the knives on the bottoms of their feet.

But, if everyone’s rooting for their player to win this battle, you can too.

As gruesome as the scene before you is, you wish you had a better seat, somewhere with a better viewpoint than all the way on the other side of the ice. You can’t to be able to hear the threats they’re growling at each other, your attention completely enraptured now that you’ve shoved your worry to the wayside.

With his newfound hold, the Penguin’s player strikes again, and this time, his hit slams across Rhys’ jaw. His head snaps to the side with the nasty hook and his helmet slips to the ice, the sound eaten up by the goading of the crowd.

They swing around, unsteady on their skates as each of the boys tries to topple the other over. You catch a glance at his face. It’s hard to see, and his shaggy black hair is splayed across his face like a spiderweb, keeping you from making out his features. You catch the blood dribbling down his chin, the anger etched in the clench of his jaw as he grits his teeth, managing to twist himself into a position where he has the upper hand on the Penguin’s player: a headlock.

Your heart thunders in your chest as you watch Rhys pound his fist into the other boy’s face once, twice, three times before his opponent’s feet fall out from under him. Rhys releases his hold, allowing the boy to slip lamely to the ice.

“Atta boy, Rhysie,” Mor shouts, once again shoveling popcorn into her mouth with a grin so bright it could melt the ice in the rink before you. She turns to you, golden brown of her eyes glowing with excitement. “Our parents would be so proud.”

She turns back to the scene before you can voice your confusion on that statement, tucking away the information that if you win a fight in hockey, it’s a great accomplishment.

You watch Rhys as he’s escorted by referees who guide him towards the penalty box. He’s examining his knuckles, not caring that he’s abandoning his equipment as he goes, grimacing as the adrenaline begins to fade. He pokes at them, frowning at whatever he feels.

You pray they’re not broken.

The rest of the players seem to be getting back to the game, like one of their teammates isn’t being casted away on an island across the ice. Okay, so it’s just another bench and he’s not that far from them, but you’re shocked that this is the end of the fight, both players carted into separate timeout boxes away from their teams.

Rhys plops down on the bench, pulling a water bottle from a hidden holder, washing the blood from his knuckles before examining them for a second time. You watch him flex his fingers, twist his wrist this way and that. You can’t seem to keep your eyes off him, even with the game picking back up and Mor shouting cheers when the Bat’s manage to steal the puck right from the drop, carting it down the ice with a speed that rivals a racecar.

He must be satisfied with his examination because Rhys is throwing his head back, and it’s almost as if he’s squirting the water from the bottle directly onto you with the way that the apex of your thigh’s wet at the sight of him. He sips the water, holding the bottle a few inches from his face, and you watch the water cascade down his chin and over his throat, bobbing with each swallow. It mixes with the blood from his split lip and slides into the collar of his gear.

You swallow harshly, suddenly parched.

When he’s had his fill of the drink, he moves the bottle further back, using the spray to wash his hair away from his face, and your breathing shallows. It’s as if the hand he’s using to squeeze the life out of the bottle is constricting around your throat, because suddenly, you recognize the sharp of that jaw, the curve of those eyebrows and the straight of his nose. All his angular features come together in the perfect picture of hotness, knocking the breath fully from your chest when he straightens his chin, looking out onto the ice to watch his teammates score the last goal of the second period.

He's the boy from this morning: the overachiever, the one who called you darling.

Mor’s cousin.

Rhysand Cunningham.

_________________________________________

Over Ice Taglist:

@saltedcoffeescotch @acourtofbatboydreams @mrsjna @velarisdusk @bionic-donut @tenshis-cake @eleganttravelercloud @lilah-asteria @serena05 @bwormie @soph1644 @house-husband-of-castlemurdock @tothestarsandwhateverend @topaz125

#rhys x reader #rhysand x reader #acotar #azsazz #acowar #acomaf #rhysand/reader #acotar au #rhysand hockey au #over ice

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newportcentercompoundingpharmacy · 8 months

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A Sports Medicine Center is a specialized healthcare facility that focuses on the prevention, diagnosis, and treatment of injuries related to sports and physical activity. It integrates medical expertise with rehabilitative services to help athletes and active individuals recover and optimize their performance.

#Sports Medicine Newport #Sports Medicine Center #orthopedic and sports medicine center

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just-a-jock · 1 year

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Get Digitized

Josh is your typical college kid maybe even a little nerdier. He majored in video game development and is a part of the gaming club at school he really didn’t take part in any social life. He was very average-looking, not too skinny but not too fat. Of course, he has some pudge around him One day while waking to his character design class he noticed a new flyer on the bulletin board

“Love video games? Want to earn cash? Come join our trail of Beta testers”

Josh loved the idea as he continued reading. It did pay pretty well and would provide all accommodations during the duration of the trial. He decides to take the pamphlet and heads to his apartment pondering if he is going to do it or not.

The next day Josh ends up driving to the address. Some big office parks with multiple buildings. “WAG” said the sign out front. He remembered seeing this developer when taking his Indie gaming class last semester. “We Are Gaming” is what the company was called and they specialized in virtual reality games and development. Josh was excited to see what project he would be helping in.

As he walked into the building he went to the front desk.

“Hello I’m here to be a part of the beta testing program,” Josh asked the receptionist

“Hello, please fill out the form on the iPad and one of our specialists will assist you momentarily”

Josh grabbed the iPad and started to fill out the questionnaire. It had all the reasonable questions you might think Until he got to the end

“What the fuck” Josh winced as the questions got more personal. Cock size, sexuality, perceived popularity. Josh decided to answer as he didn’t want to get disqualified and entered the form. Not that long after a man in what seemed like a doctor's uniform comes out from a secure door

“Hello, you must be Josh. My name is Doctor Houston. I’m the head of the VR department. Please follow me” Houston had a very stern voice with a seriousness that he did not want to mess around.

As he started to follow Dr.Houston Josh asked questions “Wow so you have a Ph.D. in gaming or computer science?”

Dr. Houston chuckled before answering “No, I have a MD in Internal medicine. WRG hired me to head the VR department as they want to see the reactions the body takes to long-term virtual reality gaming… and here we are” He finished saying as he opened a room to some sort of laboratory containing a monitor, sleek white gaming equipment and some sport of large computer. On the other side a window looking into what seemed to be a control room

As Josh walks in he hears a door close and lock

“Hey, what’s going on” he screams while banging at the door. After a moment he notices dr Houston walk into the control room across the room and sit down at a desk facing the main room.

Over the speaker “Dear Josh, I will be monitoring your experience from over here. Please strap onto the center platform near the screen so we can start”

Josh felt like this program was more of a medical drug trial and video game testing but decided to continue with what the doctor said anyway. As he walked up to the platform he put his two feet on the conveniently designated spots and looked at the screen as it turned on.

“Welcome player to your new life”

wait new life what did it mean by that. Before Josh could react clamps came out of the ground and attached to his feet holding him in place

“Hey what’s the meaning of this” he screamed

“Please stay calm as we proceed,” the doctor said over the speaker

Large laser pointers came from the side of the computer. “Beginning digitization” the computer screen announced

“Wait what?? What’s happening”

Slowly two beams from the computer started to travel up his body as everything it touched slowly disintegrated

“AHHHHH FUCK IT BURNS STOP IT STOP IT PLEASE” Josh pleated to the computer and the doctor or anyone that would notice

As the computer continued up his body in a burning pain he noticed on the screen a complete 1 to 1 replica of himself….. wait no not a replica that was him…

The computer finally made it up to his head as he pleaded one last time “PLEASE I DON'T WAN…..” He was caught off as his head was completely overwhelmed by the lights

Suddenly Josh regained consciousness but now he is in some white room with nothing around. He then hears a noise

“Customization available……. Character template chooses… JOCK…….. PROCEEDING MODIFICATIONS”

“What is happening stop this” Josh screamed but no one was around to hear him as his clothes completely vanished out of nowhere.

Slowly his body started to change to correspond to the data inside the computer

First Josh's feet grew from his regular size 9s to a huge size 14 which would be making noise anytime he walked anywhere. As the changes traveled upwards his calfs and leg muscles grew. His thighs ended up looking like watermelons and could easily break one if he wanted to between the two.

“Oh fuckkkkkkkkkk” Josh moaned as the changes continued

His cock and balls were next to change as his penis started to pull outwards slowly inching from a 6….7….8…….9……10 and finally ending at a huge size 11 which would make anyone fucked with It limp for days. His ball felt sore as they grew to baseballs filled with cum ready to fill and breed. The last touch to his groin area was the re-growth of his foreskin and ended with a continues leaky cock.

The changes moved to his torso as his abs started to chisel themselves one by one making a road all the way to the growing mountains that were his pecs. His chest looked like it was being inflated and his pecs were the Mount Everest of the range with a pointed nipple which faced downwards due to the muscle growth onto of his pecs.

“Ughh please make it stop…” Josh moaned as the changes continued

Next, his arms grew with his biceps growing to the size of footballs and his hands matching to be able to palm and grab any ball he wanted. The next set of changes started to settle in as hair started to grow across his body. His armpits started to burst out with hairs so thick that even when he put his arms down they would spew from the sizes. Next hair started to travel across his chest and legs thinking and giving him a nice rug that accentuated his already defined muscles. Lastly, but most importantly his bush started to grow more and more from his groin. Anytime of pants or underwear won’t be able to cover the spillage that will be coming over the top of them.

Josh was in a dazed state as the changes started to subside and finish up. He didn’t know how to feel…. Horny? Confused? Scared? Everything seemed so different as he started to hear the voice again.

“MODIFICATIONS COMPLETE….. STANDARD JOCK REGISTERED…… NAME: CHRIS HERNANDEZ… REGISTERED”

Wait that wasn’t his name why would it say that was someone entering all of this

“GAME WILL BEGIN MOMENTARILY… PLEASE HOLD”

Soon everything went black and it felt like Josh fell asleep.

“Oh god…. where am I” Josh woke up in what seemed to be a house much different to his one. It felt almost generated. Against his will, Josh got up from his bed and started to move to the kitchen where his body made a protein-heavy breakfast.

“Omg stop why can’t I control my body what is happening,” Josh thought in his mind completely scared of what was going on. Unbeknownst to him outside the computer his body was being fully controlled by someone on the outside.

After eating the breakfast his body immediately got up and started to walk to a new room filled with gym equipment. “Oh god no,” Josh thought.. His body started to go through an intensive workout against his will.

by the end of it he was completely exhausted with the last bits of energy he had he was able to take control for a moment and scream out

“HELP IM STUCK” . . .

“Um Doctor, there seems to be an issue,” the voice said

“What seems to be the problem?”

“The character said something weird… “Help, Im stuck” in like screaming pattern” he responded

“Ahh that’s strange don’t worry about that. We can fix that in the next patch. Might just be grabbing from some unused text files. Thank you for pointing it out” The doctor replied as he walked away taking notes and smirking

Josh was now completely trapped inside WRG new game “US” a life simulation game where gamers can be anyone their dreams can be. Unluckily for Josh, he was stuck being the complete opposite of his original self. Now is a template of a stereotypical jock for those who are too lazy to create their own characters in the game.

I hope you all enjoy. This was a story swap with @axeegliter. Check out their story and blog!

#biceps #muscle #jock tf #nerdtojock #pecs #jock #hunk

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redefinehealthcarenj · 10 months

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Potential Risks and Benefits of Cracking Your Neck

Do you ever sit at your desk for hours and suddenly want to twist your neck to release to release tension? It feels great at the moment, but is it harmful to your health? Cracking your neck is fine in moderation, however, for many people, neck cracking can induce or aggravate cervical spine problems. While it is extremely unusual, breaking your neck or having your neck cracked by a chiropractor can tear an artery, potentially leading to a stroke.

https://urlz.fr/oxQk

https://bit.ly/47Dn4uG

#pain management #physical therapy #sports medicine #sciatica treatment #sports injury clinic #center for pain management #back pain

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healixhospitals24 · 5 months

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Beyond Bones: Healix Trauma Care Revolutionizes Treatment For Orthopedic And Abdominal Injuries

In the realm of medical emergencies, trauma care stands as a beacon of hope for those facing life-altering injuries. Healix Hospitals, with its unwavering commitment to excellence, has pioneered Trauma Care that extends beyond traditional approaches, offering comprehensive solutions for orthopedic and abdominal injuries.

Let's delve into the innovative methods and specialized expertise that Healix brings to the forefront of trauma care.

What are some common orthopedic and abdominal injuries?

Certainly! Here's a more detailed rewrite of the content:

Orthopedic injuries encompass a wide array of conditions that affect the musculoskeletal system. These injuries commonly include:

Dislocations: Occur when the ends of bones are forced out of their normal positions within a joint. This can result from trauma or sudden impact, leading to pain, swelling, and limited range of motion.

Fractures and Breaks: Refers to the partial or complete breakage of bones due to trauma, overuse, or weakened bone structure. Fractures can vary in severity from hairline cracks to compound fractures where the bone pierces the skin.

Impingement Syndromes: Involve the compression of soft tissues between bones in a joint, often seen in conditions like shoulder impingement or hip impingement. This can lead to inflammation, pain, and restricted movement.

Sports Hernia: Also known as athletic pubalgia, it's a strain or tear in the soft tissue of the groin area. It commonly affects athletes involved in sports that require sudden changes in direction or intense twisting movements.

Overuse Injuries: Result from repetitive stress on muscles, tendons, ligaments, or bones without adequate rest and recovery. Examples include tendonitis, stress fractures, and muscle strains.

Sprains: Occur when ligaments, the tough bands of tissue that connect bones to each other, are stretched or torn. This often happens during sudden twisting or stretching movements, causing pain, swelling, and instability in the affected joint.

Abdominal injuries involve trauma to the area between the chest and pelvis and can vary greatly in severity and complexity. Common abdominal injuries include:

Contusions: Bruising of the abdominal wall due to blunt force trauma. While contusions may seem minor, they can sometimes indicate underlying internal injuries.

Lacerations: Refers to cuts or tears in the abdominal organs or tissues, often caused by sharp objects or severe blunt force trauma. Lacerations can lead to internal bleeding and require prompt medical attention.

Puncture Wounds: Penetrating injuries that breach the abdominal wall, potentially causing damage to internal organs such as the liver, spleen, or intestines. These injuries pose a risk of infection and internal bleeding if not treated promptly.

Herniations: Involve the protrusion of abdominal organs through weak spots in the abdominal wall muscles. Hernias can be congenital or develop over time due to factors like obesity, heavy lifting, or abdominal surgery.

Abdominal injuries can affect various vital structures, including the liver, spleen, pancreas, kidneys, stomach, small intestine, colon, ureters, bladder, and vasculature.

Blows to the solar plexus, a complex network of nerves located in the upper abdomen, are particularly common and can cause momentary paralysis of the diaphragm, leading to significant pain and respiratory distress.

Recognizing and promptly managing orthopedic and abdominal injuries are crucial to prevent serious complications such as chronic pain, loss of function, organ damage, and even life-threatening conditions like internal bleeding or sepsis. Seeking immediate medical attention and appropriate trauma care can significantly improve outcomes and facilitate recovery.

Read More: https://www.healixhospitals.com/blogs/beyond-bones:-healix-trauma-care-revolutionizes-treatment-for-orthopedic-and-abdominal-injuries

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actuallysaiyan · 6 months

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We Can Do Whatever You Want To Do(Ishida Uryu x Fem!Reader)

warnings: smut, handjob, talk about virginity, kissing, alcohol, semi-public sex, Uryu and Reader are in University word count: 1.3k pairings: Uryu Ishida x Fem!Reader summary: you and Uryu are in the same classes in university and you thought at first his arrogance and attitude pissed you off, but it turns you on. taglist: @beneathstarryskies. @seireiteihellbutterfly @misty-angerose. @yeowangies a/n: My first time writing Uryu, so I hope it's good <3

You met him when you were in your first year of university. Whispers of his academic excellence and many scholarships due to his achievements follow him around, though he doesn’t show any kind of real reaction to it. You found yourself so intrigued by Uryu.

After a few months of being in the same classes as him and trying to get to know him, you find out that he tends to keep to himself. And Uryu doesn’t really bother to make too many friends. You’ve noticed some people coming to visit him from time to time, but the relationships he has with them seem deep rooted in something you can’t quite understand.

Even as time continues on, you find yourself way too curious about him. What kind of thing does he do in his spare time? What kind of interests does he have outside of science and medicine? Did he have a love interest? Has he ever had a girlfriend?

Everything comes to a head when you and Uryu are at the same party. He’s keeping to himself in the corner, talking a little bit to a few people here and there that are in the same class as both of you. You take a drink from your beer and you head over to him.

“Hmm?” he barely acknowledges you, which makes you even more turned on.

“You’re Ishida-san, correct?” you ask him, your stomach doing flips.

He smirks at you, “Yes. Good to know you can recognize your classmates' names.”

That comment has your blood boiling. How could he say something so rude to you like this? You roll your eyes and finish off your beer. Despite the way he acts, he holds himself with an air of someone who knows it all. Something about this suggests he’s not too lucky in the love and intimacy department. Meaning….he’s probably a virgin despite being in his early twenties.

The next time you meet up with him, it’s at the end of your class for the day. You make your way over to him, tapping him on the shoulder. He turns around, towering over you and sports that same smirk as he always does.

“Yes? What is it?”

His tone is just driving you insane, “I was going to ask you to help explain something to me, but honestly if you just want to act like a self-centered jerk,, nevermind.”

Students are walking past you and him, making it seem like there’s just no care in the world for something like this. It’s like you and him aren’t even a part of this student body right now. There’s this tension that grows around the two of you. He takes your hand and pulls you just a little closer. Your heart flutters and your stomach does a flip. Why does he keep making you feel like this? He’s just an asshole classmate.

“Listen, if you really want my help, I’ll help. Just ask nicely.” His tone is authoritative and it makes you want to slap him.

“F-fine…can you help me with today’s lecture?”

He smirks again, “Of course. It was rather easy.”

The urge to push him off you and to just give up on your plan was strong. Yet you followed him into an empty classroom. He sits at the teacher’s desk, opening up his notebook. You close the door and without him noticing, you lock it as well.

Innocently as you can, you make your way up to him. When he looks at you, you flutter your eyelashes flirtatiously. He falters for a moment, freezing completely. He’s wondering why you’ve changed your attitude towards him completely, but he finds it endearing that you’re trying to be kinder to him.

What you don’t realize is that you’ve been invading his every thought since that night at the party. He loves the way you take his attitude with a grain of salt. He keeps up these walls for a reason, though he’s ready to tear down some of his walls to show you his real self.

Suddenly, you’re backing him into the corner. His eyes widen beneath his glasses, his cheeks reddening at the way you’re so close to him. Your actions are so bold and brazen..

“Uryu,” you purr softly in his ear. “You’re a virgin aren’t you?”

His heart skips a beat, “H-huh?”

You laugh, “I know you heard me. Answer the damn question.”

His mouth gets dry as his brain short-circuits. Uryu thought he had really hidden that aspect of his life so well. How could you tell just by being in class with him and the few interactions here and there that he was a virgin? How were you so clever?

He’s about to answer when your lips come crashing down onto his. Your hand drags down his chest to his waist, then down below his belt. You squeeze softly the growing bulge. He moans against your lips. Slowly, you begin palming him through his jeans until he’s rock hard.

“Let me have a little fun, hm? I bet you’ve never even had a handjob before!”

Your words sting and hit him right in the heart. .It was true, he was a virgin and he had never even kissed before. You were taking a lot of his firsts. He can barely believe his own eyes when you unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. His cock is throbbing and twitching. There’s a precum stain on his underwear now.

“Awhh look at that, you have to be a virgin.” You tease him as you pull down his underwear.

His cock slaps against his lower abdomen as you release it from the cotton confines of his briefs. The thick precum smears against his button-up shirt. You smirk when you gently graze his cock with just your fingertips and he lets out a whimper.

“Oh you’re gonna blow your load so fast, aren’t you?” You taunt him.

He shakes his head, “N-no. Shut up!”

You wrap your fingers around the throbbing length. He’s shuddering as you begin to stroke him. You make sure to go slow. You aren’t convinced that he won’t just pop within seconds.

“Look at you, trembling and shaking. What a pathetic little virgin you are,”

Your words are turning him on more than he’d like to admit. It’s making him angrier but also his cock keeps throbbing every time you call him a virgin. He’d love to lose his virginity, but he’s so wrapped up in his studies and academic career that he forgets to make meaningful relationships. He just thought he would end up having to marry someone first to lose his virginity.

“Shut up,” he spits at you. “At least—ahhh fuck— ‘least I’m not failing.”

You squeeze his cock a little harder, “I’m not failing. You really think I’m failing? Let me tell you something,”

You lean in closer, and you start to stroke him faster. Your other hand comes down to massage his balls and he knows he’s done for now. His eyes roll back in his head and his knees begin to buckle. It’s all too much.

“The only reason I asked for your help today was because I wanted to jerk off your cock. You got that?”

He can’t even reply. You’ve rendered him into a blubbering and whimpering mess. His glasses are all fogged up that he can barely make out the blur that’s your fist stroking his cock. You tug on his balls ever so gently and that’s all it takes for him to fall off the edge.

“Fuck! Fuck I—I’m cumming!”

His hips begin to buck up into your hand, spurts of thick cum beginning to coat your fist and the bottom of your shirt. You smirk as you help him through his high. Then you slow down your pace, but never stopping it.

“Listen to me,” you begin. “If you wanna fuck this pussy, you’re going to have to be a lot nicer to me. Got it?”

He nods his head, “Yes, yes…I’ll be nicer.”

And that’s how you ended up with Uryu’s balls in the palm of your hand.

#bacon.writes #uryu x reader #Uryu x you #Uryu Ishida x you #Uryu ishida x reader #bleach Uryu #Ishida Uryu x reader #bleach x reader #bleach smut

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rottenpumpkin13 · 3 months

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Shinra is having a Victorian style ball (that will be filmed and reported about) in order to raise the city’s morale. Big name celebrities are invited, athletes, etc., and at the center of it all are the Turks and SOLDIER, who are obligated to make sure everyone has a good time- including dancing when asked.

(Rufus, President Shinra, and the other directors are also there to make sure everyone’s doing what they’re supposed to. Rufus had the “pleasure” of being put in charge of the whole thing.)

What happens?

The Victorian Ball From Hell

• Everyone dutifully adheres to the strict dress code—era-appropriate ball gowns, suits tailored to the occasion, and behavior befitting the Victorian-themed ball in the main event area of the Shinra building. Each guest is dressed accordingly... except for Sephiroth, who's wearing simple working class attire and has dirt on his face. Angeal quickly notices him as he enters the ballroom with Genesis, who despite donning a waistcoat and jacket, also sports a skirt with a crinoline.

Angeal: What planet did you two escape from??

Sephiroth: It would be wrong to partake in this gross display of wealth that serves only to mask the inherent inequalities and injustices of that era.

Angeal: And you, Genesis, couldn't make up your mind?

Genesis: Of course I could. They said we had to show up in clothes that match the Victorian era. They didn't say the clothes had to fit the gender norms of the time as well.

Angeal: Why is it that any time they host themed parties, neither of you can dress normally?

*Director Lazard walks up to them, donning an elegant suit*

Angeal: Look at Lazard. Why can't you be more like him? He's dressed in theme, he followed the rules.

*Tseng appears out of nowhere, looks at Lazard, blows a whistle, and 12 Turks tackle him to the ground before handcuffing and hauling him away*

Angeal: What was that??

Sephiroth: In the Victorian era, women did not have the right to vote, sue, and own property. It marked the early stages of the feminist political movement, advocating for equality in education, work, and electoral rights.

Tseng, ignoring him: In an effort to ensure that all of our guests follow the dress code, we have decided to arrest and remove any guests who do not adhere to it.

Genesis: But Lazard was in theme, was he not?

Tseng: He was, but he and I are wearing the same suit. I couldn't possibly be seen in competition with the Vice President's brother.

Angeal:

Genesis:

Sephiroth: The industrial revolution saw a surge in poverty and the exploitation of children.

Tseng: Enjoy your night.

*Tseng walks away*

Angeal: That was odd.

Genesis: Tell me about it.

• A SOLDIER taps Genesis on the shoulder, hands him some gil and extends an empty champagne flute. Genesis wordlessly reaches into the layers of his skirt and pulls out a champagne bottle before pouring it into the SOLDIERs glass. The SOLDIER walks away. Genesis stuffs the bottle back into his skirt.

Angeal:

Sephiroth: Cholera, tuberculosis and scarlet fever preyed on the poor and vulnerable during a time where medicine had a limited understanding of the correlation between infectious diseases and hygiene.

Genesis: What?

Angeal: What do you mean 'what'? You just pulled a bottle of champagne from your ass.

Genesis: Oh. Well, the Vice President decided that the ball remain alcohol-free to ensure our guests uphold an air of refinement suitable for the public's perception.

Sephiroth: Men, women and especially children were forced into labor and subjected to dehumanizing working conditions. Why? They were scammed, forced to work to pay their debts. They were thrown in poverty and then incarcerated.

Angeal, ignoring him: So you're risking getting tackled-arrested by the Turks all for the sake of profit??

Genesis: Yes? I've spread the word, I've pre-mixed drinks and brought my collection of fine liqueurs. People know where to come to for their fixes. Aren't I brilliant? I'll be five thousand gil richer by the end of the night.

• Zack taps Genesis on the shoulder and hands him the gil. Genesis reaches into his skirt, pulls out a bottle of hairspray, then shakes it before spraying Zack's spikes.

Sephiroth: Every home in the victorian era had a cesspool instead of a toilet.

Angeal: I don't know you people. *He walks away*

• As the night goes on, more people are tackled and arrested by the turks for not following the dress code, and Genesis' business is booming. Angeal is trying to keep his distance from everyone but this doesn't work for long.

*Reno walks up to him*

Angeal: Hey.

Reno: I need a favor. I got a message for Rude, but I can't physically walk up to him or call him.

Angeal: Why not?

Reno: We got into some trouble. As our punishment, we can't talk to each other for a week. Think you can deliver the message to him?

Angeal: Sure.

Reno: Cool, but don't go up to him. They're probably watching me right now, so it'll be obvious that I'm using you as a message man. Tell someone the message, then have them deliver the message to Rude.

Angeal: Okay, what's the message?

Reno: Meet me at the rooftop at three.

Angeal: Got it.

Reno: Thanks, man, You're the best.

• Meanwhile, Zack is enjoying the buffet. He really likes the finger sandwiches and can't get enough of them. Unfortunately Sephiroth is dead set on spreading the message.

Sephiroth: Items such as bread was adulterated with toxic materials such as sawdust and chalk in the victorian era.

*Zack stops chewing*

Sephiroth: Adulterated bread was likely fed to children, where the divide between social classes meant that while the wealthy enjoyed finger sandwiches, many children starved and succumbed to illness due to poverty and lack of access to proper nutrition.

*Zack starts crying and walks away*

Angeal: Sephiroth, I need you to do me a favor. Go up to Rude and tell him to meet Reno at the rooftop at three.

Sephiroth: Why?

Angeal: Because he and Rude have been banned from talking, and they're keeping an eye on them to make sure no one helps them communicate.

Sephiroth: I see. But seeing at the Turks have just seen you talk to Reno, and are now seeing you speak to me, going directly up to him is unwise. May I instead spread the word?

Angeal: Sure? Go ahead. Hey, have you seen Genesis? I kinda miss him.

• Sephiroth gestures toward a nearby table where Genesis is seated, with a line of people queued up in front of him to purchase drinks and other items. Dark Star approaches him, next in line.

Genesis: Unfortunately, I cannot serve you, as alcoholic beverages are entirely toxic to dogs.

*Dark Star barks*

Genesis: Ah, forgive me.

*Genesis extracts a giant chocobo bone from his skirt*

Angeal: Never mind.

• Sephiroth sets off to do Angeal's favor. He finds Zack on the dance floor and gestures for him to come over.

Zack: Hey, man, what's up?

Sephiroth: "Rude, complete Reno and the charm is free" Spread the word.

Zack: Huh?

Sephiroth: Jack the Ripper haunted the streets of Whitechapel, murdering—

*Zack panics and rushes off*

• Zack finds Kunsel.

Kunsel: Hey, man!

Zack: "Food completes Reno and smiling is free"

Kunsel: Huh?

Zack: Spread the word!

Kunsel: Okay.

• Kunsel finds Cissnei.

Cissnei: Hey!

Kunsel: Nude then incomplete, Reno is free.

Cissnei: Huh?

Kunsel: Spread the word!

Cissnei: ....uh...sure?

• Cissnei finds Rufus.

Cissnei: Gen is discreet, but he has a fee.

Rufus: Excuse me?

Cissnei: I was told to spread the word. I don't know what that's supposed to mean, though.

• Rufus finds Tseng.

Rufus: I'm concerned. Cissnei told me that Genesis is being discreet, and that he has some kind of fee.

Tseng: What could that possibly mean?

• Cloud walks by with some other troopers that are serving as security for the ball.

Rufus: Strife, a word.

Cloud: Yes, sir?

Rufus: Do you know the meaning of the phrase: Gen is discreet, but he has a fee?

Cloud: WHO TOLD YOU THE CODE WORDS?

Rufus: What??

Cloud: That's the code we use to let each other know about the hidden alcohol in Genesis' skirt that he's selling!

Tseng: I KNEW IT.

• Tseng blows a whistle, and then 12 Turks tackle Genesis out of his chair and onto the ground. The sheer amount of stuff that crashes and scatters to the ground is unbelievable—glass bottles, chewing gum, copies of Loveless, lighters, hair ties and bobby pins, toothbrushes, neck pillows, condoms, apples, cigarettes, materia that looks like it was stolen from the materia room on the SOLDIER floor, items autographed by Sephiroth, flower bouquets, cans of Banora White juice, extra ties and evening gloves, umbrellas, a Tupperware container filled with brownies that Tseng will pretend he doesn't see because he ran out of aspirin, bandaids, a sewing kit, a fire extinguisher, and Sephiroth's sword that has a price tag that reads "To be negotiated" on it.

• Angeal and Sephiroth watch as Genesis is arrested.

Angeal: Oh my god...I can't believe this.

Sephiroth: I know. He told me he had run out of neck pillows.

Angeal:

Sephiroth: I was scammed, which the working class often was in Victorian London, when con artists thrived—

Angeal: ENOUGH.

#storytime #ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth #final fantasy vii #genesis rhapsodos #angeal hewley #zack fair #crisis core #ffvii crisis core #cloud strife #tseng #lazard deusericus #kunsel ff7 #rufus shinra

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