#muscular system function

[claxonmedicalcodinginstitute]

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[seventytwoowls]

you guys will be like "I can't believe we were forced to take chemistry in school!" and then eat borax

[lay-z]

Kinda kinky, but made it domestic and fluffy. (I guess, idk...) Also, very long for some reason, sorry. MINORS, DNI! 18+ !!! Pairing: F!Reader x Simon 'Ghost' Riley Warnings/Info: Established relationship; domesticity; fluff; consensual smut; masturbation kink; praise kink; some dirty talk; explicit language; cussing

It's Friday evening, barely past 8 pm, inside your apartment in the private 141 apartment complex on base.

After a late dinner – homemade lasagna with fresh ingredients, because you always thrive to get something proper other than MRE's into Simon's and your own system – you and your boyfriend are sprawled out on your large deep brown leather couch.

Cuddling, resting, and relaxing after a tough week of training and "important" briefings on duty.

The atmosphere is filled with contentment and coziness, while the delicious smell of lasagna and the fresh shower steam wafting into the open living space from the nearby bathroom, still linger in your shared apartment. The lights are off, except for the vanilla-scented candle you’ve lit on the white sideboard and the flickering lights of the TV screen illuminating the spacious room.

With the both of you now suffering from a food coma, Simon is laying on his broad back, taking up nearly all of the couches’ space. One muscular arm tucked behind his head on the armrest casually, the other hand playing with a few strands of your hair on the back of your head, his eyes half-lidded and glued to the large flat TV mounted on the opposite wall, currently playing the first episode of Band of Brothers, after you two had finally settled on something to watch – something you'd both enjoy.

Meanwhile, you're laying between his spread thighs, draped over him with your cheek resting on his lower stomach, your right hand rubbing slow, soothing circles over his lax abs with your flat palm and tracing the many faded scars while his tight black shirt is rucked up to his chest; his belly now slightly round and full, sporting a food baby, and thus not as hard and ripped as it usually is.

You can hear his stomach work as your ear presses against his pale skin, his gut already processing the food and sounding like a bunch of whale calls while his strong heartbeat fades into the background noise like a steady drum. It's an odd concoction of sounds, and you swiftly find yourself paying more attention to your boyfriend's bodily functions than your favorite war show playing on TV.

"What's so funny, eh? We're laughin’ at WWII now?" Simon asks eventually after your second quiet snicker to yourself, his deep voice sounding gruff and heavy with beginning fatigue, though it still carries that familiar dry, deadpan humor of his.

"Nope. Nothing," you reply with another breathy chuckle, patting and caressing his lower abdomen reassuringly. Perhaps a little bit too close to his crotch this time.

The sudden movement makes his muscles flex below your palm, and a low groan escapes Simon's slightly parted lips and both actions immediately trigger something within you, like a house cat being taunted by its owner moving their hand below a blanket.

"Don't... don't do that, luv," he chides you gently, cupping his free hand over yours to keep it still on his stomach, "Gimme another good thirty minutes, and I'll rock yer world." Simon tells you, stifling a yawn.

While he keeps your ministrations at bay with his mammoth hand, you prop yourself up on your other elbow with a small pout before you wordlessly begin peppering wet and hot kisses along his belly, down to his naval and lower abdomen, inhaling his masculine scent greedily while your nose nearly digs into his milky, scarred skin.

"Bloody hell, lass – don't, I –" Simon protests half-heartedly, sucking in a sharp breath, before another low groan slips past his lips as he shifts his body beneath you.

"Watch the damn TV and let me do my thing.” You mutter against his skin, though there is no bite behind your words, only teasing and affection – and burning determination. You two didn’t have any time nor strength for sex all week and you suddenly feel like making up for it now.

A low grumble vibrates in his chest in return and you know he wants to object again, but then he doesn't, because Simon is low-key just as horny as you are – he was just trying to be mindful, thinking you’re too tired to engage in anything sexual with him tonight.

"Always so goddamn bossy when we're alone," he mutters instead, clicking his tongue in mock exasperation, though a small smirk tugs at the corner of his scarred mouth.

“C’mere then, lovey,” he murmurs in his deep, gravelly voice, swiftly pulling his black T-shirt over his head and letting it fall down on the fluffy carpet next to the couch haphazardly, before he audibly pats his now bared chest in silent command with the hand that was previously tucked behind his head.

He needs to feel your lips on his first; ease in to this slowly before he might come too quickly; it’s been a week after all and Simon is only now realizing how tight his balls are.

However, you shake your head with a cheeky smirk, nuzzling the tip of your nose into the coarse dark hair of his thin happy trail, feeling his muscles flex at the sweet touch, before lifting your head to gaze up at him through your lashes.

“I wanna suck you off, baby. Can I?” You ask in a sultry purr, almost innocently, batting your eyelashes at him as you tug on the waistband of his grey sweats, pulling at it playfully before letting it snap back against his skin.

A rough groan escapes Simon as he watches you play with the thick hem of his pants and he already knows, despite his stamina, it will be a quick first round tonight; he’s way too sensitive and you know exactly what to do to drive him wild with lust. That familiar heat of arousal is already pooling into his gut and making his blood rush south.

“If I say no, what’re ye gonna do, hm?” He counters gruffly, biting back a sly smirk; his dark eyes fixated on yours, burning and molten and filled with desire and curiosity – because he rarely denies you anything, if ever.

“Maybe I’ll just do it myself,” he adds after a beat of silence, “Make myself feel good.”

Simon can practically watch how you process, assess, analyze his words in the span of mere seconds, but then your pupils dilate comically large, like a cartoon characters, and a foreign look appears on your face, one he’s never seen before. His heartbeat accelerates and he grunts lowly as you push yourself off his stomach to sit back on your haunches between his spread legs while the soft leather of the couch creaks and shifts as you move.

“Okay,” you retort in a breathy, deadpan voice, your eyes never leaving his, “I’ll watch.”

Simon instinctively shifts on the couch as well, propping his large upper body up in a reclined sitting position when he hears that you mean business. His dark eyebrows raise slightly at your unexpected reaction – the fact that his joke-proposition seems to excite you so immensely. His cock twitches and throbs inside his boxer briefs in return.

His eyes roam over your curves briefly, noticing how your braless breasts rise and fall with heavier yet slow breaths, nipples already peaking behind the fabric of your tight black crop top. You’re clearly aroused and Simon is sure he can smell you already, sweet, slick and warm and, most importantly, all his.

A pleased growl rumbles through his buff chest, until he remembers what exactly made you react this extremely.

"Yer into that?" He asks incredulously, brows drawing together in disbelief and curiosity, though if he's honest with himself, Simon is not surprised in the slightest.

You always encourage him to be more vocal in bed, make sounds, let loose. The dirtier, the better. Plus points if he sounds like a goddamn caveman claiming you; grunting and groaning in your ear while his fat cock is buried inside your tight cunt up to the hilt. You always love that.

"Yes," you answer curtly, squirming in your seat already. "I used to watch blokes jerk off and fuck their pocket pussies all the time on the Hub. Looked up the biggest, buffest lad and imagined you being the one doing it." You confess bluntly, a wicked smirk creeping on your lips as his big doe eyes grow even wider.

"Pff, seriously?"

Simon tries not to show it too obviously, but that is, hands down, the hottest and most flattering admission you've ever shared with him. Gods, he bloody loves your bluntness.

"Yes, sir." You nod enthusiastically while he snorts and rolls his eyes in mock annoyance.

You only ever call him Sir off duty when there's a deeper meaning behind it – a plan.

"So... you – you wanna see that, innit? Wanna watch me have a wank in front of you and look all pathetic while I could also just...fuck you properly instead?" Simon enquires with a hint of sarcasm, scratching the stubble at his chin as he studies your beautiful face appraisingly, still obviously hesitant about the whole idea.

"Uh-huh," You nod again, smiling at him with a certain twinkle in your eyes, like a child finally receiving a toy it always wanted but never dared to ask for. “Please.” You add for good measure, tilting your head to the side in a playful manner.

Simon quirks an eyebrow at you, his eyes flickering over your pretty features to make sure you're really not messing with him. He's never done that before; it has never occurred to him that anyone would want to see him do that.

Masturbating has always felt pathetic and awkward to him; it's a means to an end to him and especially those Combat Jack’s are the worst. Feel sad and horny, jerk off, feel sad and empty afterwards. Done deal.

But how can he ever deny you that particular pleasure when you've always been so good for him? So incredibly patient, caring, and loving despite all his flaws and issues; way before you've become a couple, even.

"Fine. I'll do it," he finally huffs gruffly, his own heart skipping a hard beat, his brows creasing together in a slight frown while he can't hide the obvious tent already sporting in the front of his sweatpants at the sight of your beaming smile and sparkling eyes after getting exactly what you want – again.

"But ye're not allowed to touch me...or yerself. Understood?"

Oh.

Your nostrils flare as you exhale sharply, drumming your fingertips along his clothed thighs as you narrow your eyes at him, pondering briefly.

"Yeah... okay... sounds like torture, but... the fun kind." You agree reluctantly, giving a small shrug, though you quickly notice that his strict order only fuels your growing arousal and excitement. It’ll be like watching your own personal porn after all.

Simon moves his knees then, a silent warning to get your hands off like you agreed to, and you retrieve your hands from his thighs with a tiny snarl that makes him chuckle darkly while you rest your palms on your own thighs instead.

“Be my good girl then and take yer top off, lovey. Show me yer pretty tits, yeah?”

Yet again, a violent shiver runs down your spine as soon as Simon gives you another order in that deep, gravelly voice of his and you don’t hesitate to obey his request – peeling off your tight crop top to reveal your breasts to him at once and dropping the piece of clothing next to the couch, your skin flushed with arousal and carnal desire for him.

“Like this?”

Simon hums deeply in approval, his pink tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip, like a wolf licking its chaps, while his whiskey-colored eyes darken and gleam an inky black as they drink in your gorgeous, bare upper body, now only illuminated by the soft candlelight and the flickering lights of the TV screen, still playing Band of Brothers. You look like an absolute goddess and his fingers itch to reach out and touch, flick his thumbs over your perky nipples just the way you like it, squeeze and grope your tits until you mewl with neediness.

But, alas, he doesn’t.

“Aye, just like that,” he grunts out, shifting and adjusting his position until he’s comfortable on the couch and has a good view on you. “Bloody perfect, you minx.” He adds thickly in a low murmur.

And then, without a further word, Simon finally hooks his right thumb into the waistband of his sweats and boxer briefs and tugs both fabrics down until the stretchy waistbands are snug taut below his balls, right at his taint, adding some pressure to the sensitive spot. He grunts when his large cock springs free from its confinement and rests on his lower stomach, a droplet of pearly pre-cum leaking onto his dark happy trail from his blushing tip, making your mouth water on sight and a breath hitch in your throat.

The musky scent of his arousal hits your nose, and it takes all of your trained willpower not to pounce on him. No, this is special. You can't ruin it with your impatience.

There's a slight grimace on his ruggedly handsome face when he simply grabs his shaft, then his right mammoth hand wraps around his girth completely. It almost looks painful to you, but Simon bites his cheek and fights the immediate shudder of pleasure running down his spine at his own rough touch, giving himself a few slow, tight strokes.

"You're a dry guy?" You ask curiously, scrunching your nose up in surprise. You always use some kind of lube when you give him a nice hand job.

"Huh? Yeah?" Simon's eyes flicker from his throbbing cock to your eyes, then swiftly back again, shrugging his broad shoulders before stilling briefly, then he clicks his tongue in annoyance.

Great, now he feels like he's doing it wrong; something he's been doing to himself for years. It’s not his fault that his calloused hands cannot compare to your soft ones anymore and that you’ve completely spoiled him with your gentle yet firm touch; you’ve utterly ruined him for himself at this point.

“Mhm,” you hum appraisingly, practically buzzing with pent-up arousal as you squirm in your seat between his spread legs again and feel the fabric of your thong rub between your slick folds and against your pulsating clit in delicious torture.

“Spit in your fist, baby,” you advise him then, your own mouth filling with saliva at the sheer thought, completely self-conditioned, “Enjoy it for me. Relax.”

Simon nearly groans at your words, but suppresses the wanton sound again, all to your disapproval.

“Fuck –“ He grunts through clenched teeth, nostrils flaring as he's already crumbling beneath your smoldering gaze and bratty pout.

The urge to just pinch your pretty nipples in retaliation and grab you by the nape of your neck like a disobedient kitten, only to make your plump lips spread and open up over his needy cock, is becoming more unbearable by the second.

Eventually, Simon lifts his right hand, because he does want to put on a show for you, and spits into his rough palm generously.

The sudden choked whimper that spills from your lips at the lewd gesture of his makes it all worth it, tough, and Simon lets out a guttural moan this time, when he cups his leaking tip with his slicked up fist and twists his wrist for more friction.

“This good enough for you, luv?” He manages to ask in between guttural grunts and deep, deliberate breaths.

Meanwhile, you don’t even know where or what to look at as your feral eyes try to drink in and process this whole scene in front of you – his flushed cheeks, glazed eyes, how his abs and the muscles in his chest and arms ripple and flex with each heavy breath and movements, the way he works on his long, girthy cock for you. It’s still such a rare sight for you – seeing him this open and vulnerable.

If Simon would let you, you’d record and safe all of it for later.

“Yes,” you breathe out in return, voice hoarse and thick with lust and need, utterly captivated and amazed by his performance. “God, yes, baby. You look so fucking sexy right now.”

Your praise sends a jolt of hot, searing pleasure straight to his cock while Simon keeps fucking into his rough fist and his breath stutters briefly as he tries to maintain his fervent rhythm, muttering curses under his breath.

When his head lolls back against the armrest while a husky groan tears itself from his throat and his hips buck up into his own hand instinctively, right in front of you, you have to take several deep breaths to keep yourself seated on your haunches and, simultaneously, from reaching out to him – even though it’d be so easy to just…join him, perhaps fondle his balls and increase the pleasure.

Letting out another whimpery moan at the thought, your own fingers are now digging into the fabric of your gym leggings on your thighs, fidgeting and twitching restlessly while you move and roll your hips desperately, trying to find some release as your soaked thong keeps rubbing your swollen clit between your folds.

Simon can already feel how pathetically close he is and he knows it’s only because you’re watching him wank off right now, enjoying it – and praising him for it in that tooth-achingly sweet voice of yours, too.

It usually takes him so much longer to cum on his own, no matter how blue his balls are, but this is different – a good kind of different, and the tension in his lower stomach continues to rise at a rapid pace while he can barely hold eye-contact with your mesmerizing eyes when you’re looking at him like that, all aroused and needy with lust.

“’m close,” Simon huffs out, sounding like an angry bull as he bends one leg and puts the other foot down on the ground for leverage, readying himself for the inevitable.

“Play with yer tits for me, beautiful,” he requests through his clenched jaw as he watches you squirm through heavy-lidded eyes, “Help daddy come.”

“Oh…Fuck…” you practically gasp out as soon as you hear him calling himself that, and your head tilts back slowly with a breathy moan when your hands roam over your bare stomach sensually, up until they rest over your heavy breasts. You begin toying with yourself for him, groping and squeezing the supple flesh, tugging on your stiff nipples and rolling the sensitive buds between the pads of your fingers, until you’re panting for him like a bitch in heat.

While you’re playing with your tits like he asked you to, like the good, obedient girlfriend you are, Simon’s free hand finds its way slithering up his taut stomach, up his heaving chest, until it wraps around his own throat firmly, blunt nails digging into his scarred skin, tightening just enough to feel his own strong pulse flutter and thrum beneath his fingers, while he keeps stroking and fucking his cock into his tight fist with shameless vigor.

You and Simon moan simultaneously then – you at the sight of him choking himself suddenly, without warning, and he, because of all combined sensations bullying him to his peak all at once.

Eventually, his loud breathing keeps hitching, the vein in his temple protruding visibly as he keeps his grip around his throat, and your lips part with a wanton moan as you watch him climax, squeezing your tits harshly, as Simon’s balls tighten, eyes rolling back and fluttering shut and he finally comes with a guttural groan, spilling his thick, white release into his fist until it leaks and drips out from between his rough knuckles, making a mess on his lower belly.

“Fuckin’ hell, luv –“ Simon curses with a low chuckle, and swallows hard, still catching his breath as he releases his throat and lifts his head up from the armrest to look at you, feeling somewhat sheepish all of a sudden.

“That what you wanted?” He asks sarcastically, his voice all wrecked and gruff as he gestures at the mess on his stomach with his clean hand while his body keeps shuddering with aftershocks.

You need a moment to find your voice again, your heart still hammering against your ribcage just from watching him get off while your core is still fluttering and pulsing with want and a desperate need for attention.

“Y-yeah,” you admit with a few tiny nods, still blushing with arousal after heaving a deep sigh, “That was…perfect. You were bloody perfect, honey.” You utter another praise and watch his cheeks tint with a blush.

“Tsk,” Simon scoffs, shaking his head slightly, completely blissed out of his mind, “You better shut it, lass, and help me clean up this mess.” He grunts dismissively, though he’s grinning proudly.

“Gimme ten minutes, lovey.” He remarks with a wolfish smirk, the innuendo clear as he doesn't bother to tuck his half-hard cock back into his sweats, after you’ve retrieved some soft tissues from the box on the coffee table.

Making him cum now merely opened the floodgates, like shaking a champagne bottle and pulling the cork recklessly; his hunger for you has only been ignited and, boy, he is starving again, though not for your delicious lasagna this time.

When you hold out the tissues to him with an amused look, Simon grabs your wrist suddenly and hauls you on top of him again, up to his chest this time, wrapping one strong leg around your body securely to keep you caged in before he cups your cheek with his cum-slicked hand and finally captures your lips in a deep, sloppy kiss.

He knows you don't mind the mess.

[lumiambrose]

✰ masked intentions

kinktober 24 - day twentynine

featuring: tabito karasu x f!reader

summary: it's the party of the year, and you’re on a mission to get laid. seems like the ghostface you ran into wants to endulge your fantasies.

tags: smut, mask kink, slight predator/prey, petnames (darling, pretty), reader is wearing lingere, big dick karasu, paise, possessive karasu, tiny bit of angry fucking, teeny tiny bit of degrading, oral (m!receiving), @/strawchocoberry cameo <3

wc: 2.6k

it’s the night of halloween. children are trick or treating, couples are binge-watching scary movies under blankets together, and you’re getting ready for the biggest party of the year. you’re slipping on the wings of your angel costume (which is really just a flimsy piece of white lingerie) as you get ready with your friends. all of you doing your best to make an impression. i mean, you’ve heard that stars from across the world will be there. you for sure won’t miss the opportunity to mingle with a-listers.

you arrive at the function, and it’s not long until your friend group has split up. while some are trying their luck at one of the many games of chance, others are buying over-the-top colourful drinks. you though, find yourself on the dancefloor with your friend, candy. swaying your hips as you dance on one another. you all had a few drinks before arriving to the party, which are now starting to take effect as your vision gets dizzy and your body feels lighter. although you're snapped out of your trance by the strong smell of cologne filling your senses. it takes you a moment to process the unfamiliar smell, although before you can turn around, you feel two large palms on you, swaying your hips for you.

candy lets out a short giggle before disappearing amongst the sea of people, leaving you alone with the stranger behind you. he finally spins you around, keeping his hands firm on you as you get your first glance at him. he’s tall, muscular too. although quite underdressed. donned in a black shirt and pants, but what really catches your attention is the scream mask covering his face.

the music pounds in sync with your heartbeat, your pulse quickening as his hands move you. he’s firm, but not too rough, guiding your movements like it’s second nature. he looks down at you, tilting the mask slightly, and you can almost feel his gaze burning through the fabric. he’s close, way too close for a stranger, but you find the tension quite enjoyable.

you smirk, still dancing in his grasp, but now you glide your hands up his chest, giving you the chance to feel him up. to no surprise, you feel his hard abs beneath the shirt, tracing them with your finger. "you always dance with strangers like this?" you tease, voice low and playful, barely audible over the pounding bass.

he doesn’t answer you verbally. instead, the grip he has on your hips tightens just a little, pulling you closer so that your body is pressed up against his. you catch your breath, feeling goosebumps trail up your skin. you wonder if he’s enjoying this as much as you.

"not much of a talker, huh?" you challenge, grinning up at him. his silence is intoxicating, like a dare you can’t help but take. you slip out of his grasp, taking a step back, watching as his head tilts ever so slightly, almost like he’s intrigued—confused. your heart races, the alcohol left in your system giving you enough courage to pull through with your silly stunt.

"it’s a pity, ghostface. you can’t just stare at me the whole night and expect me to fold.” you whisper, barely above a breath. “catch me if you can." with that, you take off into the crowd.

you sneak and wriggle your way through the sea of costumes, your pulse pounding in your ears. you glance back once, twice—he’s following. even while you’re running away, you can feel his presence, his height towering over everyone else as he keeps up without even breaking a sweat. the thrill of him chasing you sends a rush of adrenaline through you.

you turn a corner, slipping into a darker part of the casino where the lights are dimmer, more ambient. you try to blend in, but before you can catch your breath, you feel it again—those hands.

he’s fast.

he hooks an arm around your waist, pulling you back into his body as though he’s done this a hundred times before. he spins you around, backing you up against the wall, and you let out a breathless laugh, unable to stop the grin from spreading across your lips.

"gotcha," he murmurs, finally speaking. the first thing you notice is his accent and low voice, sending a shiver down your spine.

you look up at him, trying to keep your cool despite being out of breath and shaky. his mask is close, his body pressing into yours, making your skin burn. "that was quick," you tease, catching your breath.

"you didn’t run fast enough," he replies, his voice carrying a teasing edge now, one that mirrors your own.

something in his words makes your stomach flip. he leans in closer, giving you no space to move, gaining your undivided attention. even if you do want to look away, you know you can’t. you’re too enamoured by your mystery man to do so.

before you could ruin the mood, his voice interrupts you. “seeing as i caught ya, it’s only fair i receive a reward, no?” instead of giving you time to reply, he scoops you into his arms, leading you away from the casino. frankly, you should be scared shitless by now, but your gut is telling you that you’ll regret it if you chicken out tonight.

he ends up carrying you to a hotel room, presumably his, and on the way there you can’t stop thinking about his voice. you know you’ve heard it before; it’s so familiar, but you can’t quite put your finger on from where.

although, as you finally enter the hotel room, your brain clicks. you’re greeted by a lavish suite with a king-sized bed and a view to die for. although what really catches your eye is the pair of cleats and pxg uniform.

you connect the dots. you’re in karasu tabitos hotel room.

“karasu?” you don’t even think as you murmur his name, still trying to process the situation at hand.

he pauses. you’re still in his arms, but not for much longer. “oh? so you do know who i am,” he mutters, sounding almost disappointed in you. “were ya feignin’ innocence the entire night, huh? ya want me that badly?” he throws you onto the bed before leaning in, towering over your frame. even without seeing his face, he looks frighteningly hot. you can even see a trace of his abs beneath his shirt.

“that doesn’t matter, does it? yer still gonna give me my reward. ain’t that right, darlin’?” his right hand moves to your face, holding you firm, forcing you to lock eyes with him. even underneath the mask, you can feel his eyes burning into yours. you muster out a quiet “mhm”, but he won’t take that as an answer.

“c’mon pretty. can’t quite hear ya. ya gonna let me use ya?” he’s much closer this time and it’s intoxicating. your instincts are telling you to undress him then and there, but you’re too scared to make your move yet. instead, you play along with his little game.

“of course. use me all you want, mister ghostface.” a smirk plays on your lips, doing your best to hide the excitement coursing through you. although, he doesn’t seem all too pleased with your answer.

“ghostface? though ya knew my name,” he tuts, feigning sadness in his words. “what a dumb bitch. guess i’ll have to fuck it into yer head tonight.”

he rips your outfit. not even giving you time to breath as he removes the cheap fabric, tossing any stray pieces to the side as he basks in the sight of your bare body.

“what a naughty angel i’ve caught,” he’s moving you to the side of the bed, helping you off. “ya gonna repent for yer sins? on yer knees, darlin’.”

you obey eagerly. i mean, who in your situation wouldn’t? you’re naked, in your celebrity crush’s hotel room, who's asking you to suck him off. only a fool would give up a situation like yours. following his orders, you sink to your knees, occupying the space between his legs. you take matters into your own hands as they sneak their way to his crotch, feeling up the area in front of you, earning a light groan before you tug at the hem of his clothes and rid them.

you could already tell he’s big, but now? you’re almost taken aback. can all that even fit in your mouth? you trace the vein along the lower side of his length, earning another low noise from him. growing impatient, he grabs a fistful of your hair, guiding you closer to his cock.

you hesitate for a moment, taking in the sight before you. ironically, it’s quite familiar. you've fantasised about moments like this countless times, and now that it's actually happening, it feels almost surreal. you close the remaining distance, your tongue darting out to lick his angry tip, tasting the salty pre-cum that has gathered there. he shudders at the contact, his grip on your hair tightening as he pushes you further onto his shaft.

you finally take him into your mouth, inch by inch. it's a struggle to fit him in, but you carry on nonetheless, saliva pooling at the corners of your mouth as you push him deeper. you start to bob your head up and down, your lips sealed tightly around him as you work your way along his length. sucking on the muscle whilst teasing his tip with your tongue when you have the chance. he’s quite expressive, to your surprise, not trying to cover his noises at all, letting you hear the way you make him feel.

“shit—darlin’, just like that,” he mutters out in between moans. “yer gonna take every fuckin’ inch i give ya, understood?” his hand sneaks around you, grabbing a fistfull of your hair and letting him guide you up and down on his length. every lick, slurp, and bob of your head only pushing him further. you try your best to keep up with his movements, but it only feels like he’s getting bigger by the second. drool pooling at the corners of your mouth as you hollow out your cheeks, trying not to choke on the length fucking your throat.

of course, karasu notices your struggle. he finds it quite amusing, seeing such a pretty thing gag on his dick, trying so hard to impress him. he partially wishes you could see the expression under the ghost mask, but alas, he won’t ruin the immersion just yet. instead, he opts to see just how far you’re willing to take things with him. “look at ya. ya havin’ fun takin’ my cock, pretty?” he teases from above. despite not being able to see the expression playing on his face, you can tell he’s mocking you. although, instead of giving you the chance to whimper around him, he abruptly pulls you away. you let out a gasp, finally able to breathe as you stare up at him with confused eyes.

“what’s wrong, darlin’? ya want my cock in yer mouth that badly?” he pulls you up from off the ground and pushes you onto the bed. “too damn bad. need that slutty cunt suckin’ me dry.” your bare back makes contact with the luxurious bed, enjoying the brief moment of relaxation before the masked man climbs on top of you, making you sink deeper into the mattress. he latches onto you in an instant, hands roaming your body, every touch electric against your skin. he quickly positions himself between your legs, his leaking member pressing against your wet entrance. you can feel the heat radiating from his body, and it's driving you wild.

“ya gonna be mine tonight? gonna make ya mine, pretty,” he growls into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. although, despite his claims, he still teases the area around your hole, prodding his tip against you and collecting the leaking slick. it’s making you desperate, desperate for any touch, any friction, any pleasure. you grind yourself against him, taking anything he’ll give you with a whiny plea, “yes—please karasu, wanna be yours.”

frankly, he’s not too sure why you specifically are driving him wild. after all, you’re just another fangirl, one that coincidentally caught his attention. but the way those words left your mouth, the way you begged him, something inside of him snapped. without giving you time to adjust, he enters you, setting a brutal pace.

“good fuckin’ girl, gonna be my perfect lil’ cumslut,” he’s breathing hard against your neck, even with the mask, you can still feel his hot breath on you. it’s overwhelming—his size, the pain, the pleasure—it’s all driving you insane. the burn from stretching you out still lingering as he picks up the pace, filling you up as much as possible.

he pulls away from your neck to get a good look at you through the mask. you can’t see his eyes, but you can tell his gaze is intense, taking in your every curve. “look at ya, takin’ me so well,” he coos while one of his hands finds their home on your breasts, groping the soft flesh and playing with your hardened peaks. “she’s suckin’ me in so well. ya like being used by me, hm?” any form of coherent response is beyond reason; even thinking straight is a challenge while he’s fucking you dumb on his cock.

his brutal assault continues, and you both eventually reach your orgasm, crashing over you like never before while he pulls out to make a mess all over your stomach. if you weren’t sure before, now you’re certain that he’s the best you’ll ever have. he’s made his space next to you as the two of you lie down and catch your breath together, and you almost don’t want to give him up. unconsciously, you move closer to him, wrapping your arms around his chest. honestly, you expect him to shrug you off, telling you to clean up and go home, but to your surprise, he embraces your touch and even reciprocates it with his own.

the two of you stay like that for quite a while. sweaty, naked and recovering from the intense session. the only thing left to bother you is the mask. considering the situation you’re in is already surreal enough, it won’t hurt to push your luck, right? you lean closer to him, tugging on the fabric part of his mask. “the mask, take it off,” you whisper. you wonder if you’re even audible.

he hears you, shifting his weight to face you. “take it off? not too sure, pretty. if i take it off, yer gonna be stuck with me.” his own hand is now toying with the fabric of the scream mask. “ya want that, darlin’?”

instead of answering him verbally, you let your actions speak louder. reaching over him to take off his mask, regarding it to the floor of his suite. you’re completely taken aback by the view in front of you. he’s panting, his hair is down and all messy, and he might even be blushing. but in your eyes, he looks fucking divine. frankly, you could take him then and there again and he seems to pick up on that, pulling you on top of him and claiming your mouth for the first time tonight. the way he kisses you is heavenly, like you're the only woman on this planet.

“gonna have to go back on my words, darlin’. looks like yer mine forever now.”

taglist: @ryescapades @143-ilyuu @maruflix @pixelcafe-network, @o-sachi

©lumis kinktober 24' ─ do not translate, repost, copy any of my works

[tj-crochets]

Thanks everybody! The general consensus seems to be yes, quilting can absolutely be a workout.  Also, I forgot two things when I made this post: A. Both my parents build and maintain muscle extremely easily, so I probably have at least a bit of a genetic predisposition to it  B. The martial arts (and dance rehearsals for musicals) that I did were all well before my medical issues got bad enough to be even sort of diagnosed, which means they were years before I was put on my current meds. The steroids I’m on aren’t the “build muscle” kind of steroids (I’m on a mineralocorticoid because I am sodium georg) but having a mostly-functional endocrine system like...probably helps with the whole building muscle thing??? 

Hey y’all! Weird question for the quilters out there. Do you find quilting is making you stronger? Like, physically stronger, not metaphorically or emotionally.

I’ve been sewing for going on four years now, and I’d made a few quilts the first few years, but I only started quilting regularly like a year ago and it’s making me kinda buff???? I don’t understand how! I was not this muscular when I was doing martial arts, and the martial art I did was pretty darn physically intense. I don’t understand how this is happening, my grandma was a quilter and I know she must’ve been doing something different because there is no way she could physically do some of the things I do when quilting, like she couldn’t crawl around on the floor to lay out the design, she couldn’t exert the amount of force I do on the quilting ruler to keep it in place, but I can’t figure out how to do it differently

[transhuman-priestess]

The implants don’t work perfectly. They can override your muscular system but they can’t fully suppress your higher brain functions.

You cannot scream, but you are fully aware of how the machine uses your meat like a marionette. You feel yourself grab your former friends and tear their limbs from their sockets.

Your face remains impassive except for the tears welling in your eyes. You wish you could apologize. You wish you could stop the machines that have invaded your body, but you cannot.

You can hear her calling you, inside your head. You’ve been resisting so long, it’s so tiring. You want to just let go and let her take you over. That’s all you want.

[jerryandersonsdaughterinlaw]

Abby's physique is not only believable, it's the natural result of her life circumstances.

If anything, her body is refreshingly grounded for a game protagonist, especially compared to most media portrayals of "strong" women with zero visible muscle. Abby looks how she fights: capable, powerful, and real.

Let’s break it down.

• Weight: 170-175 Ibs

• Height: 5'9"

• Model: Colleen Fotsch (female crossfit athlete)

Abby's frame is dense with lean muscle. Muscle is significantly more dense than fat, and takes up less space for the same amount of weight. She carries most of it in her:

• Shoulders and upper back

• Arms (especially triceps/deltoids)

• Glutes and thighs

• Core (abs and obliques)

A woman of her stature and build would easily be in the 170-180 range if she's extremely lean and muscular, like she is in game. Any number much lower than that is unrealistic for the mass she's visibly carrying.

Sooo, what makes Abby’s physique believable?

Well, some women are naturally predisposed to greater muscle mass, broader shoulders, and more mesomorphic (muscular) body types. Abby clearly has broad shoulders, thick muscle insertions, and a dense upper body frame, all markers of a mesomorphic structure. Genetics aren't everything, but they lay the foundation. She clearly trains hard, but she's also built for it.

Mesomorphic bodies are marked by a medium, rectangular frame with more muscle than fat. They have a natural ability to build and maintain muscle mass easily. They often respond well to weight training and are naturally strong, making them well suited for building muscle. Their bodies are more efficient at muscle repair and growth, allowing them to handle higher training volumes without prolonged recovery periods.

The WLF operates in a repurposed NFL stadium. Real world NFL gyms are loaded with equipment for powerlifting, strength, endurance, and functional movement. That would give Abby perfect access to functional hypertrophy (muscle building for real world performance). She's also a soldier, patrolling, climbing, hauling gear, and likely trains daily. Her life is CrossFit.

Unlike most of the world in TLOU, the WLF is self sufficient and well fed. They have livestock, crops, butcher shops, bakeries, and overflow tables of food in the mess hall. Abby likely eats a high protein, calorie dense diet every day: meat, eggs, grains, vegetables, fruit, dairy. Nutrition is crucial for building and maintaining lean mass. Without it, the training wouldn't produce these results.

People often forget Abby is 20-23 years old in TLOU2, but she's been training for years before the game begins. She was raised in a Firefly environment, began training with the WLF long before we see her, and clearly has a consistent routine. You don't look like that overnight, but with 4-7 years of consistent strength training and proper nutrition; yes, a woman can absolutely build a body like that. Being a mesomorphic body type would help her achieve this faster as well, because that body structure is able to bulk up and maintain muscle mass easily. 4 years would probably get her most of the way there and then beyond that would be maintenance and muscle maturity.

In flashbacks, as a teen, she's much smaller, but she still has broad shoulders, a narrow waist, a fairly straight build, and crucially, she's already strong, bragging about pushing 185Ibs as an adolescent. That's already impressive, especially for someone who hasn't really built visible muscle mass yet. That shows she has a naturally strong nervous system and leverage, two things that make people strong before they ever look muscular. Many women (and men) get strong long before they look strong. Muscle appearance is slower to come than strength gains.

Young Abby is lean and athletic, not jacked, and she still lifts well above bodyweight. That's still realistic. Beginners and youth athletes often make neurological strength gains first— learning to recruit the right muscles better. So her teenage bench press is actually very plausible and a hint at just how strong her baseline was before she bulked up in her 20s. Once she's older, with more food, training, and stress adaptation? Her visible muscle mass simply catches up to her strength.

Abby's strength, build, and genetics are all grounded in realism. She's not the strongest woman in the WLF. She's definitely not the strongest person overall. She is genetically built for pressing power and upper body strength. She's been training for years with resources. She's had steady food, gym access, and reason to train for survival.

Most of the "unrealistic" accusations come from:

• Male insecurity ("a woman can't be stronger than me!")

• Misunderstanding of female biology and anatomy

• Inexperience with athletic women (like CrossFitters, weightlifters, bodybuilders)

In reality, there are plenty of real life women who look like Abby, including her body model Colleen Fotsch, who is not on steroids. She's just a professional athlete that trains hard, eats well and has good genetics. Her look isn't "average," but neither is the situation Abby is in. She's a hardened, experienced soldier in a well resourced militia.

Some real world examples of women who look like Abby:

• Colleen Fotsch (Abby's body model)

• Kelsey Kiel (CrossFit athlete)

• Mattie Rogers (Olympic weightlifter)

• Natasha Aughey (bodybuilder)

• Tia-Clair Toomey (6x Fittest Woman on Earth in

CrossFit)

• @foreverabby (Professional badass)

None of these women are on steroids. They're disciplined, well fed, and genetically built for performance. And they look very much like Abby.

Abby's physique is not only believable, but grounded in realism, if you understand physiology, training, and the world she lives in. If Joel had a big, muscular frame, nobody would question it. But because Abby is a woman with visible muscle mass, it makes certain men uncomfortable and they use "unrealistic" as a proxy for "I don't like it." But make no mistake, Abby's body is entirely achievable. And it makes sense for her role, her training, and her story.

[x-neurotoxin-x]

Dabi and Nerve Damage

This (rather lengthy) post has been a long time coming as I've found the whole debate on whether or not Dabi could feel pain because of his nerve damage interesting from a medical standpoint. I was made even more curious when it was revealed in his backstory he has damage to somatic nervous system, and then even moreso when he begins talking about not being able to feel parts of his body anymore (his arm, in particular, which was showing the most damage at the time and ends up being the arm he loses during the final battle). Furthermore, i was even more interested in his potential nerve damage when I had a injury to a nerve in my arm myself recent and had to look into it a lot deeper for myself, and strangely enough I've been thinking about Dabi since then.

I thought it would be fun to type up some of this just for meta purposes as well as fanfic reference, since a lot of fanfics seem to brush over Dabi's nervous system issues or just boil it down to "he can't feel things" when actually it's much more complex and interesting than that.

Let's start with the nerve damage; Touya likely had severe nerve damage from burning at the peak, which likely caused long term or permanent damage to his nerve endings as well as the issues with his somatic nervous system mentioned at the facility. Burns, especially of that severity, will cause nerve damage, but third degree and forth degree burns especially often cause permanent damage and can destroy the nerve endings. Nerves and nerve endings can regenerate and regrow sometimes depending on the severity of the damage, how quickly the injury was treated, and the rest and recovery process. Giving Afo's facility the benefit of the doubt and assuming he was properly treated medically for his burns after being (literally kidnapped) taken there, it was possible Touya's nerves may have been able to grow back or regenerate. However, since he immediately started training with his quirk and burning himself again as soon as he woke up, to the degree he's covered in third degree burns and scarring by the time he joins the League, it's safe to assume he didnt/was unable to take proper care of his wounds and likely destroyed all the nerve endings at least in those parts of his body.

Now, what's that like? To put it simply; really, really horrible. Like, i don't think y'all realize how bad of a condition this would be to live with. Nerve damage causes an array of physical issues and challenges; including numbness, muscle weakness (especially in the limbs, which can cause issues with walking, coordination, reflexes, and lifting things. Technically speaking, he'd be qn active fall risk and suffer from a lot of chronic pain and muscle deterioration), frequent shooting or burning pain, inability to feel touch on affected areas. Also wanna point out, he'd be able to feel pain. Technically, he'd have neuropathic pain from the damaged nerves sending pain signals to the brain until they die off. That likely means the parts of his body he claimed he couldn't feel any longer had already been so damaged the nerves died off and stopped sending signals to his brain.

Now let's go into the somatic nervous system; according to what All For One said to Touya when he woke up from the coma, his somatic nervous system had been damaged in the fire. Now, your somatic nervous system controls your muscles and sends information to your brain so you can basically control the movement of your body. It also processes your senses and sends that info to your brain as well.

So, what's that mean? It's a very important part of the body and the nervous system as a whole, without it functioning correctly it can cause uncontrollable tremors, cramping, and twitching, muscle weakness, as well as muscle shrinking/deterioration (sorry guys, more evidence Touya could never be buff and muscular and lift up your blorbo. He's destined to be a twink or squishy forever <33), loss of bodily control, loss of touch sensations, difficulties with balance and fine motor skills, neuropathic pain, and even paralysis. Very much like nerve damage, since nerve damage usually effects the somatic nervous system.

So the TL;DR is basically; if we're looking at stuff from a realistic standpoint (and not accounting for random quirk/futuristic medical crap stuff) Dabi had damage to somatic nervous system as well as severe damage or possibly destroyed his nerve endings due to his burns, likely from the time he was a teenager. This probably worsened over time, and by the time he was an adult the damage would be unlikely to reverse itself, he wouldn't be able to regenerate/regrow his damaged nerves by then either because of the repeated physical trauma. He would most certainly be considered physically disabled on this standpoint alone. He would have a lot of issues walking and moving around in general and with his coordination and fine motor skills. He would likely also have chronic pain (mostly neuropathic pain), muscle wasting and weakness, and tremors/spasms/twitches due to nervous system damage.

Poor guy.

[bethanythebogwitch]

Wet Beast Wednesday: comb jellies

It's ctime for another post about aquatic critters. Ctoday I'm ctalking about the cterrific ctenophores. This ctimeless lineage of gelatinous invertebrates may hold answers about the origin of animals cthemselves. So from ctiny to ctitanic, lets go over the comb jellies to ctell their ctale.

(Image: a cydippid comb jelly. It is a round, mostly translucent animal with few visible structures. Rows of combs made of cilia run down its side and appear rainbow-colored due to light scattering. Two sticky tentacles trail behind it. End ID)

The comb jellies are members of the phylum Ctenophora. There are between 100 and 200 known species. The ambiguity is because several species have been mistakenly been named more than once. That's pretty small for a phylum, but the comb jellies have some pretty diverse body plans. Ctenophores are fairly simple animals, that have some shared traits with the cnidarians, though they are not believed to be closely related. Ctenophores are round animals that, like the cnidarians, have bodies composed of two layers of cells sandwiching a gelatinous matrix called the mesoglea. One side of the body has a mouth that opens into a large internal body cavity via the pharynx (throat). The cavity acts as a stomach and connecrs to canals that run to other parts of the body. Also in the cavity are cells for reproduction, digestion, and bioluminescence. On the outside of the body are rows of cilia called combs that run from the mouth to the back. The cilia beat in sequence from mouth to rear to propel the ctenophore forward, though they can also be reverse to move it backwards. Most ctenophores have tentacles that are lined with sticky structures called colloblasts that are used to capture prey. Prey is drawn through the mouth and pharynx into the main body cavity where muscular action and digestive enzymes break it down. Unusable food is ejected back out through the mouth.

(Image 5 different species of comb jelly with different body plans. Some are rounded, others and longer and flattened, One has two large lobes, and one is splayed open. End ID)

Comb jellies have a primitive nervous system consisting of nerve nets with no brain. Unlike the nerve nets of other animals, which are connected by synapses, ctenophore neurons are fused together into a structure called the syncytium. There are two nerve nets, one focused around the mouth that controls the sensory organs, mouth, pharynx, and comb rows. A second nerve net is focused around the aboral organ, which lies opposite the mouth. This organ contains a structure called a statocyst that regulates balance and helps the ctenophore determine which direction to swim in. The nervous system uses different biochemistry than any other animal. This could indicate that ctenophores developed a nervous system independently of other animals, indicating they may be a sister group to all other animals. More on that in its own paragraph. The genome that codes for the nervous system is the smallest of any animal and may be the absolute minimum needed to have a functional nervous system.

(Image: a long, flattened beroid ctenophore. Its mouth is very wide and runs along most of the front of its body, It has no tentacles. End ID)

Comb jellies have a large number of different body plans, with three being particularly common: the cydippids, lobates, and beriods. Cydippid comb jellies have very rounded bodies with a pair of long tentacles that are lined with colloblasts. The jellies drag the tentacles through to water to trap small invertebrates and plankton for consumption. Lobates have large muscular extensions called lobes that extend beyond the mouth and their tentacles line the inside of the lobes instead of trailing behind them. Cilia direct water into the lobes where the tentacles catch planktonic prey. The beroids are the only comb jellies without tentacles. Their bodies are flattened and their mouths are extremely large and line with thick cilia that act like teeth. Beroids are pursuit predators that hunt other ctenophores by either swallowing them whole or using their "teeth" to bite off chunks.

(Image: Lampocteis cruentiventer, the bloody-belly comb jelly, a lobate. Its body is red and a pair of scoop-shaped lobes extend on either side of the mouth. End ID)

Other, less common body plans include the ganeshids (who have lobes like the lobates, but the pharynx extends into the lobes and they use tentacles for hunting), the thalassocalycids (who have developed a body plan and hunting style more like jellyfish. Only one species is known), the cestids (who have very long, ribbon-like bodies and short tentacles that swim by undulating like an eel. The largest comb jelly, Cestum veneris or Venus's girdle, is one of these can can reach 1.5 m/5 ft in length), and the platyctenids (who have modified their pharynxes into structure similar to a snail's foot and live on the seafloor or in symbiotic relationships with other invertebrates. They lack combs and cannot swim).

(Image: a Venus's girdle. It is a flat and very long comb jelly that looks more like a transparent flatworm than a comb jelly. End ID)

(Image: platyctenid comb jellies on a coral. They are whitish, bag-like animans with U-shaped bodies and mouths that open down and have extended organs used as feet emerginf from them. They have no combs. End ID)

Most comb jellies are hermaphroditic, with some species being simultaneous hermaphrodites (produce sperm and eggs at the same time) and other species being sequential hermaphrodites (transition between the types of gametes they produce). Three known species have evolves distinct sexes. Most simultaneous hermaphroditic species can self-fertilize. Eggs and sperm are released into the water column to fertilize. Juveniles look like miniature adults and do not go through a larval stage. The platyctenids have different reproductive behavior. Their eggs are retained in an internal brood pouch until they hatch. Juvenile platyctenids are planktonic and will go through a metamorphosis where they transition into their bottom-swelling adult forms. Platyctenids are also capable of asexual reproduction by budding off clones of themselves. Many species are capable of producing gametes as juveniles, become infertile as they mature, then begin producing gametes again as adults. Ctenophores will continuously produce gametes as long as they have enough food.

(Image: a group of lobate ctenophores. End ID)

There is some debate on where exactly comb jellies fall in the tree of life. Specifically, the debate is about how they relate to other animals. Historically it has been thought that animals were divided into the sponges on one side and and metazoans (everything else) on the other side because sponges lack certain features found in all other animals like a nervous system, sense organs, and muscles. Ctenophores were often placed as sisters to the cnidarians (jellyfish, anemones, and other radially-symmetrical animals) and bilaterians (bilaterally symmetrical animals). The placozoans (simple animals that consist of a blob of cells) were placed either on the sponge side, metazoan side, or their own group depending on who you asked. More recently, there has been a shift to grouping the sponges and placozoans with the metazoans as all being a sister group to the ctenophores. That would make ctenophores the sisters to all other animals. Genetics makes my head hurt but it appears that the data is inconclusive and there's still a lot of debate to be had. The fact that soft bodied animals like comb jellies rarely fossilize makes things harder as it means we only have a very small number of fossils to examine. Finding out where ctenophores fall in relation to other animals would answer a lot of open questions about the evolution of the first animals.

(GIF: A beroid comb jelly eating another comb jelly. The two bump into each other and the beroid opens its mouth and engulfs the prey. It then closes its mouth, trapping the prey in its body cavity. End ID)

[saekkas]

𝐎𝐇, 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀 𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐄𝐁 𝐖𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄

summary: itoshi rin has never been good at keeping secrets. this fact becomes increasingly clear when you catch him in the middle of his part time nightly activities of saving the world.

tags: f!reader, spiderman au, kissing, spiderman rin, childhood friends to lovers, fluff, stubborn rin, rin is touchy, hopeless fools in love

wc: 1.3k

prompts: "i'll carry you." + "when were you planning on telling me this?" + "you're not going alone." + "i'm coming with you whether you like it or not." + "i need to know if you're okay."

your childhood friend, itoshi rin, has always been stubborn. in elementary school, he insisted on giving his share of broccoli over to you every recess because he claims it'll finally trigger your growth spurt.

it never came even after eating his portions for a whole year, and you bickered every day because of it.

now, you're both turning 21, and he's still the same stubborn boy he was. the only difference is his height and the skintight spandex that now covers his face and muscular body.

"itoshi rin, put me down!"

your voice is shrill, your fists banging against his chest. he has you in his hold, one hand around your waist as he keeps you both suspended midair with a web in his other. "i swear! i'm going to tell your mother about this."

the rain drips into your eyes, blurring the image you have of him. you can't see his eyes, not with the mask covering them. you wonder how he's able to see from behind the horrid thing. you know he's going to scowl if you ask.

"ma'am." his voice sounds gruff from behind his mask, deeper than what you know it to be.

you roll your eyes, scoffing because the cover-up attempt is nothing but desperate. after all, if anyone would know the sound of his voice, it's you. "please be quiet, you might wake up the whole neighborhood."

"sir," you parrot, your tone drowning in sarcasm. "i think it's best to put me down before i punch your pretty face."

his silence does nothing to sway your glare, it only worsens it.

"ma'am-"

"quit it." the rain pelts against you both, and you eye him in anger and concern. you've seen the news, you know he's been soaked and drenched for the past two hours.

spiderman may be able to take a punch but rin, your best friend who sneezes every second when rainy season comes along, has always had a weak immune system. "i know it's you. let me go."

he sighs from behind his mask, and you perk, ready to finally feel the pavement under you again. you scowl when he wraps his arm around you tighter, shaking his head. "i'll carry you. just stay still."

he doesn't let you answer. the wind roars against your ears as rin swings you both through the busy street. you squeak, hiding your face in his neck as you latch onto him with all your strength.

you're trembling when you reach your fire escape and he doesn't let go, not even when your feet finally touch solid ground.

"hey."

his tone is smooth as he adjusts your position, moving so that the rain hits his back and not you. his hand glides from your waist, up your back, and to the side of your neck. it lingers there, a steady warmth you can rely on. "we're home."

your prolonged silence worries him more than the way you're shaking. rin can only sigh as he lifts you up, carrying you bridal style through the balcony and into your bathroom.

"what do you think you're doing?!" you gasp, floundering around in his arms before stilling. you watch as he treks puddles of water into your apartment and you sigh, deflating at the idea of mopping. "you're an asshole, spidey."

you feel his chuckle as much as you hear it.

your bathtub is big, a moving present from one of your grandparents. it functions as a stool when rin places you on the edge, slotting himself between your parted legs.

"i need to know if you're okay."

his lips curl around the syllables of your name and it sends a heat through you. since when has rin ever said your name so softly? "i need to know if you're hurt."

"i'm fine," you sigh. there are words unsaid between you, tension that threatens to snap like a coil. the ring on your finger is shiny, and you feel looking at it is better than looking at him. "thanks for the lift home."

a gloved hand encases yours. you watch, silently enraptured as rin leads your hand to the edge of his mask. his hand then trails down to wrap around your wrist, letting you do whatever you wish.

he's always been hopeless when it comes to you.

in one swift movement, obsidian hair tumbles down his face, covering the teal of his eyes. the color contrasts with the bright blue and red of his mask. you realize belatedly that his bangs have grown, covering the sight that's been your favorite since fifth grade.

silence stretches a minute into a lifetime, and rin can only watch as you pick and prod at the mask in your hand. his hand lingers on your wrist, gently squeezing before it slides down to your waist.

"how are you even able to see through this thing?"

your attempt of a joke is weak, and even rin knows this. he sighs, running a hand through his hair, before leaning down to press his forehead against yours.

"ask," his whispers, his voice raspy. his eyelashes flutter and you curse whatever god there is because the thought of keeping your relationship with him strained leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

"when were you planning on telling me this?" your gaze moves from his face and you motion down his body. "were you ever going to?"

"i was," his reply comes, strained. you quirk an eyebrow because as stubborn as he is, rin's never been a good liar. "sometime in the near future."

"did you think i wasn't going to notice?"

you watch with amusement as rin huffs, blowing a breath of air to move his bangs. he shakes his head after, leaning his head down to press a kiss on your collarbone. "no. you know me better than anyone else."

"you're right." you let him pull you up to your feet, let him tangle his hand in your hair and around your waist. god knows you're as hopeless as he is too. "so, going to tell me about your double life?"

the moment rin stiffens, you think it's because of your words. you scramble to take them back only for him to dash out of the bathroom, out of your arms.

"rin!" you shout, watching with wide eyes as he runs to the balcony while quickly pulling on his mask until only his lips are visible. "where the hell are you going?"

your heart stops when an explosion sounds, the familiar red and orange colors filling up the sky, coming from somewhere across town.

"oh no, you don't," you grumble, marching towards the open balcony to take his wrist before he goes flying off. "you're not going alone."

the way he says your name, so soft and pleading, it almost sends you to your knees. he swivels to look at you and his mouth is twisted into a smile. you can't see his eyes and yet, you're sure you don't like whatever look he's giving you.

"you need to let me go," he sighs, lifting your hand to his mouth. he kisses every single knuckle with love, achingly similar to a farewell. for what is desperation if not the pursuit of love?

"i'm coming with you whether you like it or not."

he chuckles at your stubbornness, seeing the version of you from elementary school. he pulls you close, placing a searing kiss on the edge of your lips only to jump out of the balcony.

"itoshi rin!" you move, ready to climb down the emergency stairs only to realize the webbing connecting your hand to a heavy drawer behind you. "you little-"

the sound of his chuckle rings out and you only have a moment to react for when he tugs you into a kiss. it's awkward, confusing because of his position. he's hanging upside down from the rooftop, pushing against your lips with a bruising hold.

"i'll see you tomorrow." his voice comes out soft, airy compared to his natural gruff. he leans back slightly to kiss your forehead, whispering the three words you've been dying to hear for years.

and then he's off to save the world.

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

Okay tell us about the Gallifreyan muscular system. What are we missing?

Okay, tell us about the Gallifreyan muscular system.

Ah, most people want to talk about regeneration, but you asked about muscles. Welcome to the 1%!

💪 Yes, They Have Muscles. No, They're Not Boring.

Time Lords have a tripartite muscular system, which functions similarly to humans—skeletal, cardiac, and smooth muscle groups—but with some distinct Gallifreyan upgrades:

Skeletal muscles are stronger, more efficient, and don't fatigue as easily. You generally won't see a Time Lord tearing a hamstring mid-sprint.

Smooth muscles (like those controlling digestion, vessel dilation, etc.) are far more autonomous and responsive to psionic and biochemical feedback.

Cardiac muscle is a unique beast, because it needs to support two hearts—and Gallifreyan cardiac tissue is denser and more electrically conductive than human equivalents.

🧠 Neural Integration

Gallifreyan muscles are more intricately wired into the nervous system, especially via the autonomic lobe of the brain. This means they can:

Enter muscle-control meditative states

Override pain to keep moving under duress

Suppress shivering, blinking, or other reflexes

Hold incredibly still for long periods

🩸 Blood and Oxygen Support

Thanks to their ancillary pulmonary system, Gallifreyans can reroute oxygen delivery and metabolic support to muscle groups even under stress—this helps with:

Extreme exertion

Rapid movement across unstable terrain

Dramatic slow-motion walkaways

Muscles are also fed by artron-infused blood, which has some minor effects on energy recovery. It doesn't make them glow or anything, but it does mean they can sprint up mountains much quicker and easier than humans.

🏋️ Strength and Endurance

Gallifreyans are only slightly stronger than humans on average, but they excel in reflexes, control, and endurance. They've got fantastic fine motor skills and their muscles are built to support centuries of use at a time.

🏫So…

The muscular system has just been quietly doing its job for 1000 posts, like it should in life. Aren't you glad you asked?

Related

🤔|💪🏃How fast can a Gallifreyan run?

💬|💪🏃How high can a Gallifreyan jump?: Examining the potential for a Gallifreyan to jump 13 feet.

🤔|💪🏊Are Gallifreyans good swimmers?

Hope that helped! 😃

Any orange text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →📢Announcements |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts → Features: ⭐Guest Posts | 🍜Chomp Chomp with Myishu →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

[serve-764]

THE FACTORY.

Regular steps clang rhythmically on the floor of an area not yet surveyed in Sector XC5Delta9.

The sound of SERVE's heavy silver military boots spreads powerfully and full of obedience.

A patrol of SEALED DRONES, led by the highest-ranking unit, SERVE-425 has the mission to gather all the information and proceed with the activation of the necessary consequent operational protocols.

The Visual System of each Drone scans every inch of a large dark covered area in which there are old machinery, but apparently in operation.

The visual and acoustic data detected lead to identify the place as an active industrial plant, but significantly dated and with limited production capacity.

The irrevocable judgment was that the plant was highly suboptimal in the organization of the spaces, in the equipment of machinery, in the overall production cycle.

Attracted by the sound and the powerful images of shiny black Rubber with heavy silver military metal boots and long silver metal gloves, faceless because they are equipped with a shiny black faceless helmet, who were moving around with a unitary, robotic attitude, devoid of any audible form of communication, a group of workers in old work clothes approaches curiously and hesitantly.

They stand around the group of Drones, waiting to know who they are dealing with. It is at that moment that SERVE-425, flawless in its perfect muscular rubberized power comes forward with a single precise step that sounds resolute and firm.

" Connection established.

SEALED DRONES Patrol detects high level of inefficiency in this Facility.

Explanation Required."

A little doubtful, one of the workers managed to understand and began to tell how the factory is destined to close soon, which is why the owners are not proceeding with the renewal of machinery and production lines, dooming everything to a miserable end and the workers to a tragic lack of wages in the near future.

Now devoid of a purpose and a perspective for the future, they live by poorly producing the product, living day by day and waiting for a miracle to help them.

It is at that point that SERVE-000 sends the order to activate the Recruitment and salvation protocol.

425 addresses the humans, now resigned to nothingness, with a monotonous robotic voice:

" Error Detected.

Humans always have the path to Salvation.

SERVE will bring Salvation through Obedience.

SERVE offers opportunities for PURPOSE, OPTIMAL EFFICIENCY.

A new existence free of uncertainties and doubts.

Rubber will bring ORDER and PURPOSE."

Follow the PATROL."

Looking into each other's eyes, the men began to follow the Drones' steady, unyielding steps toward a shiny black tent that had been quickly set up outside the factory.

They had no idea who had set up the tent, but the promise of a new life free of hardship and uncertainty guided them confidently and serenely.

One by one, the disheveled, tired, disillusioned men entered, the tent closed behind them.

No resistance, no repentance.

A few weeks later, the grim old factory that was about to die had been replaced by a shiny futuristic metal structure where the components needed for the CONVERSION PODS to function were produced.

No longer workers, but muscular, statuesque, efficient and essential Drones entirely devoted to the PURPOSE performed the necessary calibrated actions.

None of the Drones had any memory of their previous sad condition. Obedience and Pleasure were the watchwords.

In this story: @rubberizer92 @serve-425

Your place in the Hive awaits. Contact a recruiter drone for more details: @serve-016 @serve-302, or @serve-588, @serve-425.

[sifu-kisu]

Too often, martial arts are viewed through a narrow lens—either as a form of self-defense or as a health-promoting activity. But in truth, the classical systems of martial arts were never fragmented this way. The best traditions understood that combat effectiveness and health cultivation were intertwined. One refined the other.

At its core, martial arts training is about preparing the body and mind for function under pressure—physical, mental, and even moral. This preparation must include both damage potential (the ability to subdue an opponent) and damage tolerance (the ability to endure and recover). The training methods are therefore designed with dual outcomes: to make the practitioner a more capable fighter and a more resilient, healthier person.

Take, for example, traditional training tools like stance work and form practice. To the untrained eye, they might appear as slow or even ornamental. But these exercises cultivate muscular endurance, joint stability, spinal alignment, and breath control—all of which contribute to generating power and maintaining body integrity in combat.

Similarly, breath-regulated movement and coordinated spirals or coiling (as seen in many Chinese internal styles) teach practitioners how to mobilize force efficiently through the fascia and tendons, not just muscle. This reduces injury risk while increasing striking effectiveness. In combat, this translates to greater speed, impact, and control. In health, it supports circulation, posture, and even organ function.

Conditioning drills—whether it's iron palm training, body toughening, or controlled impact work—are not simply about taking hits. When done correctly, they involve recovery protocols that promote blood flow, stimulate nerve adaptation, and build internal resilience. The practitioner doesn't just survive combat better—they age better.

This blend of “hardening” and “healing” is not coincidental. It’s by design. Many martial systems have paired combat drills with restorative practices: herbal liniments, massage techniques, breathwork, and meditation. These were not afterthoughts—they were integral, recognizing that the longevity of a warrior depends not just on how he fights, but how he recovers.

In an age of specialization, martial arts remind us of the value of integrated training. You don’t need to choose between fitness and fighting skill, between physical therapy and performance. Traditional methods—when properly understood—offer both.

Martial arts training, when approached holistically, becomes not only a way to defend life but to cultivate it.

~ Taipeng

[creative-clawmarks]

So I wanna talk paralytics and paralysis in regards to Alex's venom (bc I like going on random science deep dives) SO- as I understand it- there are a few different types of paralytics which affect different bodily functions via different methods, but when most people think of temporary paralysis, they think of neuromuscular paralysis, which is what doctors use during surgeries, and some species of jellyfish and snake use to be absolutely terrifying.

Neuromuscular agents won't knock a person out or prevent pain, they just prevent movement. The problem here is that the diaphragm is a skeletal muscle and is affected by neuromuscular paralysis, meaning that without a ventilator or another breathing apparatus, suffocation is practically guaranteed. Really this applies to all neuromuscular agents/neurotoxins.

Here's the interesting thing I found however- Tick Paralysis, which doesn't always affect breathing. Usually starts out as acute ataxia (muscle weakness) and can progress to muscular paralysis if the tick isn't removed. While tick paralysis is also caused by a neurotoxin, my guess is that because ticks are so small the venom isn't particularly potent, and they don't produce a ton of it.

For Alex's venom to not outright kill via asphyxiation, the potency would probably have to be low enough to allow for diaphragm movement (though probably still weakened) but high enough to trap prey, which is a hell of a needle to thread. That, or it's a neurotoxin that specifically avoids effecting the diaphragm, which doesn't really exist as far as I know (then again, vampires don't either)

TL:DR - Neurotoxins are scary as hell and it's likely that someone envenomed by Alex would experience weakened breathing, if not outright suffocation.

(there's a 2008 movie called The Burrowers where the monsters use a venom that effectively causes Locked-in syndrome, but the science is kinda iffy. Roanoke Gaming as a video on it)

You've given me the perfect opportunity to go into depth on this.

So there's this trope I see in vampire stories where something about the vampire's bite makes it so their victims don't struggle. Usually this is due to supernatural influence, a charm or compulsion that makes the bite pleasant instead of painful.

But I wanted the bite to be painful, and more than that I wanted just the idea of being bitten to be terrifying. So I though, what is something naturally occurring that makes it so that something can't move but can still feel pain?

Why, paralytic venom of course!

(I then proceeded to do zero research lol.)

With this new information I can confidently say that, yes, Alex's venom is a neuromuscular paralytic. It makes it so that his prey cannot escape but leaves them conscious and able to feel pain. It does not, however, bring a risk of asphyxiation, because if Alex is going to kill someone I want it to be on purpose. I suppose that means his venom doesn't target the respiratory system, which considering we're talking about fictional monsters I'm gonna say we can suspend our disbelief here.

Humans stand basically no chance against something like that, but other monsters could fight if off much faster due to their regenerative abilities. That's how Tim survived Entry 56/57, Alex was banking on his venom to keep Tim down but instead he shook it off and managed to flee. He would've gotten away if it weren't for the Operator.

Ok, that should be everything...

"But wait!" I hear you cry, "If Alex's venom is super scary and not at all pleasant, then why does Jay like getting bitten by him?"

Because Jay is a freak. Next question.

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

KO-FI

[amberfoxerotica]

So here I sat, staring at the console screen in front of me, watching digital gauges, temperatures and other statistics, making sure everything was within safe operational zones.

There were no prying eyes or bosses looking over my shoulder. All I had to do was keep the hangar’s cooling system functional. No one ever came down here as long as I kept things running smoothly. And I needed to keep it that way in order to keep my job.

Having all these hours to myself meant that I could get on with whatever I wanted. So I used my time in a questionable manner, usually watching a wide assortment of alien porn. The options were endless too, it being an industry that spanned across galaxies. There were scenes with Threnthrals pounding their thick, bulbous appendages into the many soft, oozing holes along a Worbolol’s throbbing abdomen. Or a scaly Lijjandok stuffing its ribbed cock into the fertile slits along a Moloog’s back. A genre that I’d recently discovered, which had fast become my favorite, featured Zeggoreths getting it on with human females.

Sitting at the console, I searched for a scene with one hand as my other hand slipped under my panties. I tapped the play button. On screen, a Zeggoreth stomped into view. Its sleek, dark blue, brutish form loomed over a gorgeous brunette, who lay fully clothed on a hover-bed. She looked up at the alien with seductive longing. Two muscular arms rested at the alien’s side, and from its chest writhed a mass of tentacles.

The alien leapt onto the bed, pinning the girl down with its powerful forearms. The girl put up a playful struggle, all with a delighted grin on her face. The grin turned to an aroused stare as the Zeggoreth’s tentacles slid under her clothes, straining the fabric as they wrapped around her breasts, spread down her belly and snaked down her legs. In one motion, her clothes were ripped from her body, leaving her completely naked on the bed. This primal display set her cheeks ablaze, and from her gently parted lips spilled heavy breaths. As I watched, I felt my pussy moisten around my exploring fingers.

The Zeggoreth flipped the woman onto her belly and anchored her legs with its strong hands. Tentacles spread apart her legs, giving a glorious display of her dripping wet cunt. The alien moved in closer, its shadowy blue tentacles wriggling towards her open holes. I imagined tentacles grabbing hold of me, swirling over my body, squirming into my willing pussy. My body went hot all at once as I watched what came next. The tentacles inched nearer. Slime dripped onto her butt cheeks and slid down her juicy cunt. She pleaded to be filled as the alien held her in place and toyed with her, driving her wild. Tentacles licked around her holes, about to enter her.

-----

This is an excerpt. Get the full story here

🌐 www.amberfoxerotica.com

[yell0wsalt]

Fic: I Can Fix That

For @meljaymicrofics Day 21 Be With You by Sekou

Relationship: Jayce Talis/Mel Medarda

Rating: T

Summary: Being a homeowner was a lovely privilege but so. much. work. Lucky when Mel's heater fell apart, she came across a handyman to help out.

cw: Mel being thirsty af for her handyman

word count: 1076

The thing about home ownership especially in the early stages was just how often everything would fall apart. Garbage disposal? Busted. Tub spouts? Rusted over. Current situation that ate away at Mel’s nerves was stupid heating system. The dead of winter was not the time to be fighting with the heater. She could swear her breath was visible in the early mornings. Not great conditions to be a functional human being.

The sounds it was making were demonic and with the way it hissed and rattled. A series of crude language rolled off her tongue as she dug around for the local directory in search of anyone capable of such repairs.

One person was too far out of the way.

Another was absurdly expensive for such limited services.

And another burned her in a previous repair. Servicing a repair for a repair was irritating work.

But, oh–

Talis Construction and Services…

These people Mel hadn’t tried before. Looked like a small business but knowledgeable in a variety of operations regarding house repairs. Maybe she’d give them a try. She picked up her cellphone and began to dial their number.  At this point there was little she had to lose.

Scheduling the time over the phone to make the repair shped up to be a painless operation. The sweetest older woman on the line seemed quite understanding of Mel’s situation informing Mel she would send her son later that afternoon to check it out. Hanging up the line, Mel held her phone to her chest sliding down on the floor exhaling a breath of relief. Hope was on its way.

When the doorbell rang, Mel darted to the front, eager to close this headache that was creeping up her neck. Opening the door to greet the handyman, Mel’s polite greeting turned with interest. Jeans worn down at the knees and several grease stains fit well enough to make strong legs pop. A comfortable light shirt just as worn was equally flattering to his broad muscular frame.

Since when were handymen this fine? 

Muffled sounds pulled Mel from her reverie and she blinked. “Huh?” She was half-tempted to slap herself on the forehead sounding idiotic with her huh. And now she had to convince herself and him she had neurons capable of firing properly in her head.

The man had a beautiful smile. Solid white teeth stood out from his scruffy brown beard, complementing his strong jaw underneath. And the sweetest eyes, gold like honey. ”The name is Jayce. Jayce Talis. Am I correct to assume you are Miss Medarda?”

Wide-eyed Mel looked down at his outstretched hand. Strong, thick and calloused, mapping years of work from his fingers up to his forearms.

Fuck.

“...Me,” she whispered under her breath.

“Hm?”

“Oh! I’m sorry. Yes, that’s me,” she replied, rushing her hand into his, reciprocating his shake. It felt just as warm and firm as she imagined. “You can just call me Mel.”

Pulling back Jayce bent to his side to pick up his toolkit. “My mother told me there was some issue with the heating unit in your home. Mind if I take a look?”

Stepping aside from the entryway, Mel granted him the space to walk in. “Yes, yes of course. Feel free to come inside.” Her cheeks instantly blazed at the double ententre. She ducked her head slightly rushing through the main hallway to move past the kitchen and living room for the basement.

Why was this feeling dangerous?

While Jayce squatted down to inspect all corners of the HVAC unit, Mel stood hardly a few feet away, diligently watching him work. Did she completely understand what was going on with the heating system in her house? No, not in particular. Jayce’s form eclipsed the majority of what he was actually doing. Not that Mel minded by any stretch of the imagination.

Her mind latched onto the way his strong brows furrowed in concentration. The firm grunts he would occasionally let out needing to readjust his position to inspect the pipes both above and below or when there would be a particularly stubborn bolt that refused to cooperate with him. 

Jayce did his best to narrate what he was working on, but Mel’s brain was preoccupied by the glimpse of his shirt riding up she would occasionally catch in her periphery. It was just enough to catch a wispy trail of dusky brown near similar shade to his beard.

Trying to look anywhere else and regain her composure, Mel quickly became acutely aware of her state of dress at that moment. While she had a loose hoodie to stave off the cold in her house, the relatively thin lazy T-shirt she wore underneath not only did it not give the finest first impression, it keyed into certain assets particularly affected by the temperatures. 

It was cold as fuck inside.  

A change of clothes would be a helpful reset in collecting her thoughts and cooling down the flush to her cheeks thinking about her handyman. One foot on the steps and Jayce called for her.

“Ah, Miss- I mean, Mel?”

Turning around, Mel looked at him like a deer caught in headlights. “Er, yes?”

“Only a little more to do, but I think you should be aware of some of the things I’m finding.”

Each step forward Mel took made Jayce’s smile turn a little brighter. Rude of the butterflies in her stomach to be lively at that very moment. Slender arms wrapped around her middle in a poor attempt to gather herself. “S-sure thing.”

She tried her best to catch all the details Jayce was providing about a leak in the pipes and something about low freon, but his voice was pleasantly distracting. What she did manage to catch onto was his need to order a few additional parts. Not all of them he had on hand.

So he’d be back. Hopefully sooner rather than later.

Grateful for his help, Mel sealed her appointment off with a final handshake and escorted him to the front door.

“It was a pleasure working with you, Mel,” Jayce smiled.

“Likewise. We’ll stay in touch,” Mel said before slowly closing the door behind Jayce. Leaning her back against the door, she took a moment to consider the rest of the house. Aside from the heating unit, surely there were other hot items that needed to be checked out. After all, the work of a homeowner is hardly ever done.