#Calf growth

[divya1234]

Herbocal: Grass-Flavored Calcium Tablets for Cattle Nutrition

In the world of modern agriculture, the quest for optimal nutrition for livestock, particularly cattle, is an ongoing endeavor. One innovative solution that has garnered attention in recent years is Herbocal – grass-flavored calcium tablets designed specifically to address calcium deficiency in cattle while offering additional benefits such as supporting pregnancy, enhancing milk yield, and promoting faster growth in young calves.

Calcium deficiency is a common issue among cattle, particularly in regions where forage or grazing options may be limited. This deficiency can lead to various health issues, including weakened bones, reduced milk production, and reproductive problems. Herbocal aims to combat this deficiency by providing a convenient and palatable source of calcium infused with the familiar taste of grass, which appeals to the natural dietary preferences of cattle.

One of the key advantages of Herbocal is its ability to support pregnancy in cows. Calcium plays a crucial role in muscle contraction, nerve function, and blood clotting, all of which are essential processes during pregnancy and calving. By ensuring adequate calcium intake, Herbocal helps maintain the health and vitality of both the cow and her developing calf, reducing the risk of complications during gestation and birth.

Furthermore, Herbocal has been shown to enhance milk yield in lactating cows. Calcium is a fundamental nutrient for milk production, as it is a major component of milk and is involved in the contraction of smooth muscle cells in the udder. By supplementing the cow's diet with Herbocal, dairy farmers can potentially increase milk production, leading to improved profitability and sustainability in their operations.

In addition to its benefits for mature cows, Herbocal also promotes faster growth in young calves. Adequate calcium intake is essential for skeletal development and overall growth in calves, particularly during the early stages of life. By providing a concentrated source of calcium in a form that is easily consumed and absorbed by young calves, Herbocal helps ensure that they reach their full growth potential quickly and efficiently.

Overall, Herbocal represents a promising innovation in cattle nutrition, offering a convenient solution for addressing calcium deficiency while providing additional benefits for both cows and calves. By incorporating Herbocal into their feeding programs, livestock producers can enhance the health, productivity, and profitability of their herds, contributing to a more sustainable and resilient agricultural industry.

For More Information Visit Us :

[ratatatastic]

have you ever seen porportions so wack? hes like a baby giraffe 😭😭😭

[shopwitchvamp]

Please make a flare leg option for joggers. Some of us have fat calves we don't wanna show off :/

I've got one other request for flares recently, but even if I started on those today it'd take a lot of time & testing to get them to the point of being ready to actually put up into the shop. I've got a lot of other stuff in the works right now so unfortunately flare leg pants are pretty far down the list.

[sirpeppersto]

sometimes I'll wake up and a random part of my body will be angry with me. like can we give it a rest

[tkbrokkoli]

:3

[bunnis-monsters]

saw your bull and cow hybrid fic and found out you were doing an event!! would you be willing to tell us more about this au, no specific request i just want to know more about this, also congratulations on 5k!!!

Cow/Bull Hybrid Lore

I’m planning on making an entire post about the cow/bull hybrids but I’ll give y’all some snippets for now.

Cow and bull hybrids were created using the newest technology, crossing humans with cows and bulls. This was done to create beings that could produce milk without needing to be impregnated.

Though there are female cows and bulls, the males are the ones used for milk production the most since they can produce “milk” all year long.

Make bull/cow hybrid semen acts as a milk alternative, and is lactose free! It’s very creamy and sweet, and is very popular with women specifically.

A female farmhand is required to tend to the males, since they dislike male human hormones and charge at any males getting too close to their territory. There are male cow/bull hybrids that will form mating bonds with each other, but they aren’t likely to mate with a human male.

Each male cow/bull hybrid can produce 1-4 gallons of cum milk a day, depending on their build and species. Bulls are more likely to produce on the higher end.

Female cow hybrids are highly sought after by both cow and bull hybrid males. A heifer is seen as a rare treat, and everyone is eager to be the first to put a calf in her belly.

They have a preference for fat, chubby women. The closer you look to a heifer, the more they’re attracted. Once they’ve chosen a mate you’re screwed. You’re their breeding cow now.

Once a cow/bull hybrid gets you pregnant, he becomes very clingy and extra territorial, guarding the area you’re nesting in with his life. The bulls are eager to impale anyone that gets near, while the cows will stomp on any poor soul that tries to bother you.

You’ll be milked as if you’re an actual cow, and your baby is expected to start walking within a few days. Though, babies between humans and hybrids are rarely as strong as their hybrid parents, and are closer to their human parents in terms of their growth.

I’ll post more about them later~

——————

NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @screaming-crying-screamingagain @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @j3llyphisching @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljr @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @buckoothecow @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68

[catslvrr]

hiding in plain sight

kim minji x fem!reader | one shot

Synopsis: Being stuck in an elevator is bad. Being stuck in an elevator with Minji, however, is very good.

Contains: mentions of drinking, cursing

Song: Glue Song — Beabadoobee, Clairo

You should’ve known that your laziness would come back to bite you in the ass one day.

“Alright,” Hanni huffs, readjusting her tote bag strap. “This is where we part ways.”

You shift weight onto your right foot to bump shoulders with her. “Are you sure? The offer still stands.”

“Very sure,” she laughs as she glances at the daunting stairs on the right. “Need these bad boys muscled up.”

Hanni attempts a bodybuilder pose to flaunt her calf muscles, but barely anything shows. It’s a sad display. Maybe she really does need it.

“Shame,” you sigh dejectedly. “I’ll convince you one day.”

Every day for two months. That’s how long Hanni has devoted herself to taking the stairs rather than the elevator. You’ve tried almost everything to convince her, from horror stories to bribery to threats.

“Hanni, just get in the fucking elevator,” you hiss, violently slamming on the ‘open doors’ button. It’s ten in the evening, both of you just got back from a grueling study session in the library, and you’re about to drop dead.

It’s just your luck that she’s your roommate. You forgot your keys to the apartment, and there is no way in hell that you’re waiting fifteen minutes for her to climb however many flights of stairs it takes to get to the room.

“Nuh-uh,” she sing-songs, performing a pirouette for absolutely no reason other than to rub salt in the wound. “It’s fun seeing you mad.”

You grit your teeth. “I will tell everyone that you were the one who killed Lucy.”

A gasp. “You wouldn’t!”

(It was a tragedy. Lucy was a dearly loved succulent who sat on a window sill at the end of the hallway. Every resident would visit Lucy from time to time, and there was even a Facebook page to upload pictures of Lucy and its growth.

On the fateful day, you and Hanni had just returned from a rowdy night out, and of course, both of you were a tad bit too drunk. You dared her to do a cartwheel and Lucy was unfortunately caught in the crossfire.

Somebody had posted a picture of Lucy, sprawled out on the carpet, pieces of the broken pot surrounding it. Word spread throughout the apartment and there was a solemn funeral held for Lucy. Justice was demanded but the true culprit was never found… because you were her alibi.)

“But I would,” you say with a smirk. At this point, you’re surprised the button isn’t broken yet. You’re also sorry for anyone else who’s waiting for the elevator on other floors.

“It was your fault in the first place!”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ve got video evidence.”

Hanni sags her shoulders in defeat. After a few seconds of thinking, she seems to perk up again.

“Tell them,” she declares defiantly. “It’s been months anyway. People deserve closure.”

She then marches toward the stairs. You hear the echoes of her stomping.

You see your confounded face in the reflection as the elevator doors close.

“Aren’t you the basketball player?” Hanni muses. “You should be jumping at the chance to get some cardio in.”

“I already went to the gym today,” you flex your bicep smugly and attempt a smoulder. “And I got practice later.”

“You look like a jackass,” she scoffs. “Don’t talk to me.”

She curtly turns and speedwalks to the stairs, the telltale sounds of heavy steps following soon after.

You reach for your headphones around your neck and belatedly realize that they’re missing. “Fuck!”

The steps stop. Hanni’s voice is booming down the stairwell. “What?”

“I think I left my headphones in class.”

Hanni spares you no sympathy and cackles as she continues up the stairs. “Loser!”

You groan and decide you’ll go and find it before practice later. You tap your foot impatiently as you wait for the elevator to arrive. It’s taking a bit longer than usual today. You take a few minutes to scroll on your phone for a bit before you hear a familiar ding.

The elevator doors open and you walk in, but as you turn around to press the button to your floor, you see a face you weren’t expecting to see.

“Minji?” You tilt your head as she steps inside.

Minji offers a small smile and an awkward wave.

If you remember correctly, she’s friends with Haerin, who’s your team’s mascot. It’s such a shame she didn’t try out for the team because her height is ideal for the sport. You already have Hyein as a center, but she could probably pass as a power forward if she trained for it.

You notice that Minji is wearing the bottom half of the bear mascot. “Is Haerin okay?”

“Yeah,” she scratches her cheek. “She’s feeling a bit under the weather so I’m taking over for tomorrow’s game. Figured I’d get some practice before then.”

You’re about to ask about how the practice went, but the way she slumps in exhaustion against the railing tells you everything. You take note of the glistening sweat on her neck and the strands of hair sticking to her skin. Her cheeks are flushed from the heat, but it gives her a faint glow that gets you bothered.

“Aren’t you hot?” You raise an eyebrow. “I tried that on once and I almost passed out after doing a backflip.”

Minji looks down at the bear costume and shakes her head hurriedly. “I’m almost home.”

“You’re fifth floor, right?”

A nod. You take her nonverbal response as a sign of discomfort, and so you stop your attempts at conversation.

There’s a few minutes of tense silence before a metallic screech pierces your ears. You both stumble as the elevator comes to an unexpected halt.

“What the fuck,” you say, squinting at the buttons and displays. You poke around for a bit before realizing that the elevator isn’t moving.

You turn around to check on Minji, but it doesn’t seem like she’s faring well. Her face is pale white and she’s tightly gripping onto the rails.

“Hey,” you take a small step toward her. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she snaps her eyes shut and takes a deep breath. “Fine. Just a bit claustrophobic.”

You hesitantly place a hand on her shoulder and squeeze gently. “Just take your time and breathe, okay? I’ll contact emergency services.”

Minji nods again and sits down in the corner. You watch her worriedly before checking your phone. Of course, there’s no service. 

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. You click on the bright red emergency services button, expecting static or a voice to sound out, but there’s nothing. You press again. And again. You push and hold it for five seconds.

“Don’t panic,” you flash Minji with an awkward grin. “But it’s not working.”

“Oh God,” she blanches, and understandably begins to panic. “We’re gonna die.”

She stands up, still in the mascot costume, and paces around the elevator. “We’re going to run out of oxygen. We’ll suffocate to death. We’ll run out of food and die of starvation. No, we’ll die of dehydration before that. What if I need to pee?”

The costume makes the passionate rant all the more comical. Her rambling continues as she wrings her hands together. “I think I need to pee. The anxiety’s getting to me.”

You grimace. “Please don’t talk about pissing. It’ll make me wanna piss too.”

Minji’s still aggressively muttering to herself in blind terror, so you stop her by grabbing her arm. “Hey, relax.”

That only seems to worsen her agitation as she yanks her body away from you, her face burning red as she almost elbows you in the face. She squeaks, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“It’s okay,” you wave it off with a laugh and squeeze her hand. It’s soft. “You’re lucky you didn’t damage this pretty face.”

In this brief flustered state, Minji temporarily forgets about the panic and slides down to the floor like Jello. You squat down to meet her eye level. 

“Seriously though, it’ll be fine. The elevator has air vents so we’ll get enough circulation in here. And we’ll only be in here half an hour max. And about the pissing…” you trail off and take a quick peek at your duffle bag. “I have a bottle?”

Minji doesn’t reply, head in her hands. You make yourself comfortable and sit cross-legged opposite her.

“Will anyone notice you’re missing?”

“No,” she mumbles dejectedly.

Well, shit. Hanni probably thinks you’ve gone to find your headphones. “We might be here for more than an hour then.”

You clear your throat to break the awkward silence that ensues after. “How come I’ve never seen you around? We’re in the same year, right?”

“Our courses are in different buildings,” Minji says weakly. “My psych classes are far from the engineering buildings.”

“You already know what course I do?” You grin cheekily. “You must be a big fan.”

Minji hastily lifts her face, showcasing a burning blush. “No! I just… heard it from Haerin, that’s all.”

Your grin only widens. Like Haerin would ever talk about the team. She’s only there for the free post-game feeds. You choose to feign ignorance for her sake.

“You should take that off,” you suggest, noticing how Minji is uncomfortably squirming in the costume. “I’ll help with the zipper.”

“Okay,” Minji stammers, scrambling to get up on her feet.

You brush away some of her hair that’s covering the zipper and move it over her shoulder. Your fingers briefly brush over her neck, and all you can feel is how she’s burning hot. Minji almost imperceptibly shivers and jolts forward, choking on air. You pull the zipper down and watch with mirth as she clumsily wrestles out of the costume.

Minji stuffs it in her backpack and flops back down, hugging her backpack in her lap. You follow suit and sit a few inches away from her.

“Much better?”

She nods, still avoiding your gaze. You bite your cheek as you stare at her, trying to figure out a way to make conversation. You decide to fish your phone out of your pocket and pull up a recording of your last game, flashing her your screen as you pat the empty space next to you. “You wanna watch?”

Minji hesitates for a few seconds before shuffling closer. Her voice is small as she admits, “I was watching this game on the sidelines.”

You’re filled with a sense of pride at the news. But you also make a mental note to ponder on why you haven’t noticed her around before. “Really?”

“It’s not because of you or anything,” she adamantly denies, rubbing her nape, though you feel like her red cheeks contradict that.

“Anyone catch your eye?”

Her denial is half-hearted.

You pout teasingly. “Shame. I’ll play better next game.”

You save Minji from further embarrassment and press play. “You know how basketball works, right?”

“Each team has five players on the court… and the ball goes in the hoop?” Minji frowns.

“And?”

“And… you can’t run with the ball.”

“Basically,” you chuckle. “But there’s more to it.”

You rewind the video back to the beginning. “I hope you don’t mind me commentating.”

She shakes her head, and so you continue. “So this is one of the simplest plays in basketball: a pick and roll…”

You eventually finish the video and end up versing each other on the table hockey app on your phone. She’s surprisingly competitive and it’s endearing. You then somehow end up talking about card games, and you introduce her to the world of Inscryption through a gameplay video.

Halfway through the video, you feel a sudden weight on your shoulder. You crane your neck slightly and see Minji’s sleeping face. You smile and continue watching until you slowly drift off to sleep as well.

You’re both awoken with a sudden thud. Minji practically springs off of you and profusely apologizes, much to your amusement. You look up to see a firefighter opening the emergency escape hatch.

“You ladies alright?”

“Yes sir,” you drawl, checking your phone. “It’s just been two hours, no biggie.”

A ladder is dropped from the hatch and you both climb up, stretching your limbs as you stand on top of the elevator.

“This is so sick,” you pose as you take selfies. “I feel like I’m in some action movie.”

You tilt your phone to include Minji in the photos, and you laugh because she looks like she’s being held hostage.

The two of you are harnessed on some rope and pulled up by firefighters to safety. You’re shocked to see Haerin and Hanni there waiting. Hanni practically storms toward you and latches herself onto you like a koala, crying dramatically about your disappearance. You thank the firefighters as they pack up their equipment and begin to disperse.

“Hey Haerin,” you greet her with a strained voice, trying to peel Hanni off you. “You feeling better?”

“No,” she replies nasally. There’s a tissue stuffed in her right nostril. “But I’ll be there next game.”

You gift her with a slap on the back which earns you one in return, and you curse under your breath because she definitely hit you harder than you hit her. You ignore the stinging pain and swivel to meet Minji’s gaze that is already on you.

“Keep an eye on me next game?” You ask nonchalantly, but you must admit there’s a small part of you that twinges with hope. “I’ll play super duper good for you.”

Minji’s eyes widen in surprise before timidly answering with a stutter, “I will.”

“I’ll see you then!” You leave her with a side hug (where she awkwardly pats your back) before approaching Hanni. She gives you an eyebrow wiggle that you roll your eyes to in response. She is a hundred percent going to interrogate you at home. Both of you start the long climb to the apartment.

“Karma’s a bitch,” Hanni says obnoxiously. “That’s what you get for not taking the stairs.”

“Shut up JoJo Siwa,” you glower at her, but a lame grin graces your face when you remember your time spent with Minji. “I’d say it was a good thing.”

“Ew,” she gags. “Wipe that dopey smile off your face.”

You abruptly stop and grab Hanni’s arm. She turns around in confusion and sees your aghast expression. “What?”

“I missed practice. Yujin is gonna kill me.”

Tomorrow comes quicker than you expected, and you’re buzzing with nerves as you warm up on the sidelines. It’s not an important game, but your hands tremble a bit more today. You scan the court for a certain someone.

Danielle throws you a Gatorade. “Who are you looking for?”

“No one,” you blurt out a bit too quickly. You take a swig from the bottle to wash away your anxiety as you seat yourself on a bench.

“You sure?” Danielle quips with a knowing smile. “You’re shaking.”

You slam the bottle on the bench to shut down her jest. 

“Shouldn’t you be with Hyein?” You scowl as you shoo her away. “Go be a supportive friend and give her some encouraging words or something.”

Any lingering embarrassment flies out the window when you spot a big bear entering the building. You wave her over and laugh as she trips over someone’s stranded bag.

“Hi,” you smile.

You can barely hear Minji’s muffled voice through the head. “Hi.”

Your smile twitches as Hyein and Danielle appear behind Minji and start pulling childish faces. Your glare and subtle middle finger sends them away. “Wish me luck?”

The referee whistles as a signal for players to get on the court. Minji gives an awkward thumbs up, so you accept the fact that you have to initiate contact. You lean forward and kiss the stupid bear head. It’s a bit weird, but it’s worth it because you hear Minji’s breath hitch. 

She runs away promptly after. The game starts and you’ve never felt so motivated in your life.

The other team is irritatingly good at three-pointers, but your team’s size provides you with a solid advantage; you’re able to fight back through rebounding and shots inside the paint.

Your teammates are a bit puzzled at first when you keep hogging the ball and taking contested shots, but they’re not mad because you’re making them. The bewilderment quickly turns to disbelief when they realize you keep looking at the mascot after every shot.

“You’re so annoying,” Yujin grumbles during the half-time break. “This is not High School Musical.”

“Stop complaining, grandma.” You can feel your muscles ache from the overexertion, but the goal of impressing Minji takes priority. “We’re up by 20.”

“I think it’s cute!” Hyein interjects with an encouraging pinch of your cheek. “I can’t see Minji’s face but I bet she’s in love.”

Everyone turns as they hear a loud smack that resonates throughout the building. Minji’s sprawled on the floor after a failed backflip.

“She’s so cute,” you giggle, disregarding your teammate’s exasperated groans and mock punches.

The rest of the game is a breeze, but there are a few frustrating turnovers here and there that shorten the lead to nine when the final whistle blows.

You slither away from the team huddle and plop yourself down next to Minji. She’s gulping down water at a scarily excessive pace. You wait for her as she squeezes every last drop from the bottle and lets out a big wheeze afterwards.

“Tired?”

Minji nods and gratefully accepts the towel. You admire her as she wipes sweat off her neck and face.

“So,” you chirp. “How was the game?”

“You did really well,” she admits meekly.

Your chest puffs up at the praise. “So you’ll be watching from the front row for all my games from now on? I wanna see you.”

Minji’s taken aback by your forwardness, but nods shyly.

You’re still bouncing with adrenaline. “Did you see that and-one layup I made? And the no-look pass? And the—”

You stop rambling as you realize Minji’s not responding and spacing out. More specifically, spacing out and staring at your lips.

“Kiss me,” you say.

Minji literally jumps on the spot and almost screams, “What?”

“Kiss me,” you say again simply. “You want to and I want to. What’s stopping you?”

She audibly gulps and averts her gaze to hide her dilated pupils. “No, I was just distracted by something else, really…”

You roll your eyes and tug on the collar of the mascot costume to pull her in for a kiss. You feel her whole body stiffen and she makes a strangled noise, but then she melts and kisses you back for a few seconds before you pull away.

“Your lips are soft,” you smile casually, but you can feel the hammering of your heart.

“Thanks,” Minji’s voice wavers. “You too.”

“I like you,” you continue. “We should go on a date.”

“Really?” She stumbles over her words, still slightly dazed. “Are you sure?”

You hum in affirmation.

“Okay,” she squeaks.

“Okay,” you repeat with a smile. You stand up and take her hand to pull her up as well. “Let’s go eat. The team is probably waiting for us outside.”

“Wait!” She yanks you back. “Let me get out of this costume first…”

“Do you need help with the zipper again?”

“…Yes please.”

Dedicated to user rosiehrs... hope this minji was 'loser' enough for you

[myster-roca]

La Pelle del Diavolo: A Halloween Special

The night air in the hills of Tuscany was thick with the scent of earth and wild herbs, but a chill crept through the wind, slipping from the shadows cast by ancient oaks around the estate. Marco Romano, a seasoned thief, felt the familiar prickle of excitement as he approached the villa.

Dark whispers and superstitions tugged at the edges of his thoughts, but he pushed them aside. Danger was an old friend, and tonight, it had led him to the mysterious Villa Tenebra.

The locals had spoken of the villa’s hidden treasure in hushed tones over dark wine, only daring to mention it in shadowed corners of Florence’s oldest bars. It was a relic of myth, known as the Corpus Noctem, the key to immortal life. Marco had dismissed it as folklore at first, but the lure of such power was impossible to resist.

He had slipped into Villa Tenebra with the help of a map from a cryptic dealer in Florence—a strange man eager to be rid of it. The map was faded and worn, but it revealed something extraordinary: an old smugglers’ passage hidden in the villa’s foundations, built centuries ago to let noblemen move treasures in and out undetected.

The entrance to the passage lay hidden behind a statue in the villa’s overgrown gardens, its base concealing a narrow stone door. With a grunt, Marco pushed it open, revealing a winding staircase descending into the earth. The air was cool and damp, and each step echoed, punctuating the silence with a heavy, ominous beat.

At the bottom, the passage twisted into a dimly lit stone hallway. Shadows flickered on the walls, worn smooth by years of forgotten footsteps. Marco moved forward, his senses sharp, adrenaline building. The air was thick, carrying an old, metallic scent, as though it held memories of things long past.

A few meters down, he found himself in a corridor and saw something he had never encountered—a perfectly sculpted muscle suit that looked like leather, coated in wax, and painted red. The closer he got, the more he felt an odd pull, a magnetic force that made his skin tingle and his pulse intensify.

The suit looked like leather but felt too smooth, too alive. It beckoned to him.

“This is it. The Corpus Noctem. The Flesh of the Night,” he whispered, his voice thick with greed. “The key to youth and eternal life.”

His fingers hovered over the material, and as soon as he touched it, a rush of heat surged through him, like electricity flooding his veins. His fingertips tingled as he traced its sculpted lines. The sensation was intoxicating, almost erotic. His breath quickened, and an unfamiliar hunger stirred deep within him.

With the suit clutched in his arms, he moved quickly down the hall, rounding a corner, his breathing quickening as he felt its warmth intensify. The heat from the suit seemed to throb, mirroring his own pulse, sending waves of anticipation rippling through him.

He knew he couldn’t wait any longer—he needed it on his body, needed to feel it enveloping him.

Setting the suit down, he hurriedly removed his clothes, pulling off his sleek, dark outfit and kicking off his boots. His legs trembled as he reached for the red muscle suit once more, pressing himself against it and feeling heat spread through his body.

He removed his pants, standing completely naked before the suit, savoring the rich red sheen of the leather.

Without hesitation, he began to put it on. The moment it touched his skin, a wave of pleasure and power flooded his senses.

As he slid the suit further up his leg, he felt an incredible tightness around his calf, a strange, thrilling tension as though the suit were pulling at his muscles. And then, to his astonishment, he felt his calf muscle expand, swelling against the material as though infused with newfound strength.

He continued, slipping his other leg in, feeling the suit tighten around his thighs. The same sensation of growth surged through him, his quads and hamstrings expanding, hardening, becoming thicker, stronger.

Marco’s hands trembled as he pulled the suit up over his hips, feeling the snug embrace of the material. He slipped his arms into the sleeves, and as the suit enveloped his torso, a wave of heat exploded through his chest and back.

He watched in awe as his pecs rose, filling out, becoming solid and powerful, each muscle now perfectly defined. His shoulders broadened, the suit tightening around them, forcing them to grow, to harden, until they were as strong as stone.

His arousal surged as he ran his hands down to the calves and then up to the chest, pressing his palm against the sculpted abdomen. It felt perfect—hard, tight, like a muscular man was inside.

Eyes closed, he traced his hands over the biceps and around to the triceps, savoring every sensation.

“You shouldn’t have touched that.”

The thief spun around. An old man stood in the hallway, his silver hair gleaming in the dim light. On his right hand, a tarnished silver ring caught the faint glow, intricate symbols etched into its surface.

His eyes, sharp and full of something the thief couldn’t quite place, bore into him. The air between them crackled with tension.

“This is your treasure, old man?” the thief sneered, masking the tremor in his voice.

The old man stepped forward, his lips curling into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Treasure? No… it’s a curse. You should strip it off and leave while you still can. That suit… The Corpus Noctem… was never meant to be worn by anyone who values their soul.”

The thief chuckled darkly, reveling in the waves of pleasure and power coursing through him as the suit clung tighter, molding to his body like a second skin. “You’re just trying to scare me. It’s mine now.”

But then, something shifted. The warmth he’d felt before began to change, becoming suffocating, as though the suit itself was tightening around him, digging deeper into his flesh.

The initial rush of pleasure twisted into something unbearable, a heat that clawed at him from within.

His chest heaved as panic seized him. “What… what is happening?”

The old man’s gaze was steely, his voice soft yet filled with grim satisfaction. “You wanted to own the suit, to wield its power. But now, it owns you.”

The thief’s hands flew to the suit, trying to rip it off, but the material wouldn’t budge. Panic clawed at him as he realized the truth—this wasn’t just a myth or legend. This was real, and he had fallen for its trap.

“The suit was crafted centuries ago,” the old man continued, his voice soft yet laden with dark knowledge. “A coven of sorcerers, desperate for immortality, summoned an ancient demon—the Harrower of Flesh—who bound its essence into the hollow skin of a man, creating the Corpus Noctem. Whoever wore it would gain eternal youth and beauty, but at a cost: for each year they lived, they’d need to drain another’s essence, leaving behind a lifeless skinsuit. To bypass this, the wearer must cloak themselves in the flesh of another soul—only by donning this skin over the Corpus Noctem can one remain whole.”

The thief’s vision blurred as the suit constricted around him, merging deeper into his skin. His body tingled with a sensation that was equal parts pleasure and terror. It felt as if the suit were feeding on him, consuming his very essence.

The old man’s frail form shifted, and with deliberate slowness, he raised his hands to his face. He pulled it off, revealing a lifelike mask, and beneath it, a strikingly youthful, handsome face emerged—features sharp, jawline strong, eyes dark and piercing. Smirking, he removed his clothes piece by piece, casting off the disguise of age.

As the last layer fell, the old, fragile illusion was gone, replaced by a chiseled, muscular figure that looked as if it had been carved from marble. His back straightened, shoulders broad, and every inch of him radiated a powerful, youthful energy.

“You see, I was once like you,” the man said, his voice now rich and powerful. “I, too, was lured by the suit’s promises. But unlike you, I learned its secrets and made it my own. I’ve lived for centuries, wearing this skin, draining life from those foolish enough to fall into its grasp.”

The thief stumbled back, his body no longer his own. The suit tightened again, and he felt his skin loosen, as if separating from his bones, becoming pliable and empty. He was now little more than an outer shell waiting to be filled.

“You’ll be perfect,” the man murmured with a predatory smile. “I’ve been needing a new face. And your body… it will serve me well.”

The man reached down, his fingers trailing over the thief’s hollowed form, savoring the warmth and fresh pliability. He lifted the emptied skin carefully, feeling its readiness to be inhabited. Pausing, he slid a tarnished silver ring from his finger and set it gently on the floor beside him, a faint smile crossing his lips, as if the gesture held private, ritualistic meaning.

With a sigh of satisfaction, he began donning the suit, the thief’s former identity slipping over him like a glove. The skin conformed to him, tightening and sealing with a sensation that sent shivers through him—a seductive merging of flesh and power.

He ran his hands over his new form, relishing the strength beneath his fingers. This body was everything he’d hoped for—youthful, strong, and ready to endure another century. He reached down, rubbing his hands over Marco's abs, feeling the muscles tense beneath his touch. His hands drifted lower, gripping Marco's cock, heat radiating from it. Wrapping his hand around the shaft, he began to stroke.

“Do you like it?” he asked himself with a smile.

He began to laugh as he continued stroking, feeling Marco grow harder. On the verge of climax, he still sensed remnants of Marco's essence, and his smile grew even wider. Reaching up, he massaged his new face.

But he wasn’t done. He turned to the Corpus Noctem, lying on the floor like a crimson shadow. With practiced ease, he slipped it on, layer by layer, feeling it fuse with his stolen body, amplifying his strength, fortifying every fiber. The suit melded seamlessly, completing his transformation.

Reaching down, he retrieved the silver ring from the floor and slid it back onto his finger, a final touch that signified the bond. He looked into the grand mirror, admiring the flawless reflection. Turning sharply, he traced a hand along his new jawline, savoring the unfamiliar yet perfectly familiar contours. The face of a man he had consumed, a youth he had stolen, now belonged to him entirely.

With a slow exhale, he ran his hands over his abs, savoring each hard, sculpted ridge beneath his fingertips. The suit hugged every contour perfectly, every muscle honed, every line exact.

“Magnificent,” he whispered, his voice low with satisfaction, echoing through the empty hall like a dark promise. Only his faint laughter remained, drifting through Villa Tenebra’s silent halls, waiting for the next soul to fall prey to the Corpus Noctem.

--- ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ---

Would you like to expand this dark universe? Follow me to explore more content and updates: https://linktr.ee/mysteroca

[etesienne]

"Beauty seekers who aspire for a pair of “manga legs” or “chopstick legs”—thin, long, and white gams as straight as chopsticks, like a manga character—“calf-muscle blocking surgery” has become trendy. The procedure removes some nerves on gastrocnemius muscle in order to slow its growth, leading to slimmer calves.

Compared with procedures like Botox, which require regular shots, calf surgery is lauded by online influencers as a "simple" one-time process to get rid of several “unimportant” and “rarely used” nerves with lasting effect, and allegedly no side effects. A hashtag related to the procedure attracted over 260 million views and 24,000 comments on Weibo in a couple of days in late May.

However, health experts pointed out that after these nerves are removed, people cannot walk as fast, or run or do other active sports that requires the use of calf muscles, without falling; moreover, their lower legs will probably recover to original size or even become deformed because of compensatory growth in other parts of the calf.

The procedure originated in France in 1985 as a way to treat club foot caused by spinal cord or cerebral injury. It was first performed as a cosmetic procedure in China around 2005, but is no longer offered at legitimate plastic surgery hospitals because the removed nerves cannot be recovered and the impact is irreversible, according to the Beijing News. Despite those warnings, two Beijing hospitals that the newspaper visited had received a flood of reservations for this service during the Dragon Boat Festival holiday from June 12 to 14."

Horrifying. What happens to these women when they're chased, in danger, at the scene of an emergency, and can't fucking run ??

[cypherdecypher]

Animal of the Day!

Dugong (Dugong dugon)

(Photo by Smithsonian Ocean)

Conservation Status- Critically Endangered

Habitat- Indo-West Pacific Ocean

Size (Weight/Length)- 250 kg; 4 m 

Diet- Seagrasses

Cool Facts- Although related to manatees, the dugong is the only living member of the Dugongidae family. Dugongs are shy and only group together on rare occasions during mass seagrass growth. During these gatherings, the water is filled with clicks and whistles as they communicate. Due to poor eyesight, only touch and sound keeps these animals socially connected. Dugongs have one of the longest periods to reach sexual maturity of any mammal, ranging up to 18 years before they can have offspring. Females only have a single calf every five years or so. The calf will stay with its mom up to three years before splitting off to find its own underwater meadow. Sadly, due to their slow movement and tendency to swim along the ocean surface, dugongs are easy targets for poaching and tangling plastics. Hopefully, other countries will follow Australia’s lead and create marine sanctuaries to protect these amazing animals.

Rating- 13/10 (Don’t let them go the way of the Steller’s sea cow.)

Requested by @callmepyrus

[oumaheroes]

Talk dover to me <3

'How hot is it?'

'It's hot.'

'Is it hot enough for me.'

'Francis, get the fuck in.' Arthur sat up and back further in the tub to make room, 'Stop looking at me like that; get in and shut the bloody door. You're letting all the heat out.'

'Oh, I thought it was hot enough.'

Arthur raised his eyes to the heavens and sank back lower into the water.

Francis shut the door and turned back to glare at him, 'You're taking up all the room.'

'You took too long.'

'Move.'

'I will when you get in.'

'You're insufferable. This is supposed to be relaxing. I'm supposed to enjoy this.' In a swift movement, Francis shucked off his (overly) fluffy bathroom, ‘Get out of the way.’

‘I will when you get in.’

Francis stepped one foot fully into the water with a wince and Arthur grinned, ‘Too hot?’

‘Arthur, I swear to God I will sit on your legs.’

‘I took the tap side for you.’

‘I appreciate the weaponry to hand. Move.’

Before Arthur could retort, Francis stepped fully into the tub and Arthur had to swiftly moved his legs out of the way to avoid tendon damage.

‘Look, you’ve flooded us.’ Arthur said, eyeing up the overflow along the tub’s rim from the wave made by Francis’ entrance. ‘That better not go through the carpet to the floorboards, we can’t afford to redo them after the kitchen.’

‘I’m surprised you have enough heart and feeling in your stingy heart to allow us to have this much water.’ Francis sank as deep as he could go, knees sharp mountains in the water, and closed his eyes, ‘Ugh, it’s been too long since I’ve had a bath. I needed this.’

‘Hmm.’ Arthur pulled one of Francis’ feel forwards to massage his calf, firm circles with his thumbs, ‘It’s rarely cold enough to be worth it.’

‘That’s a terrible opinion.’ Francis cracked open an eye, looking just behind Arthur and to the right, ‘As is the need to have the window open.’

‘I like the contrast.’

Francis shook his heard and closed his eyes again, ‘I think I’m going to quit.’

‘Finally.’

‘Yes, well. I had hopes. Growth upwards, more than anything currently improving.’

‘Move on to another station?’

Francis shrugged, ‘The chance for more responsibility. Menu choices, ideally.’

Arthur snorted and moved onto Francis’ other leg, ‘As if David would ever let you do that.’

‘He does for Nikhil.’

‘Nikhil is an arselick.’

‘Nikhil is also the level above. But even then, to just move off vegetables and fish. I hate fish, or I hate cooking fish. The smell gets everywhere.’

‘I don’t mind you smelling like a whore.’

Francis hit him with a sudden splash of water, Arthur catching the grin of his teeth right before he closed his eyes.

‘Stop it. Let me moan; don’t make me laugh.’

‘I would do no such thing willingly.’ Arthur lay back as much as he could with the awkward and hard metal of the tap, lolling his head against the wall with his arm slung over the ceramic to keep him from sliding. ‘Your unhappiness is my entire aim.’

Francis snorted and cupped water in his hands to tip onto the crown of his head, fingers raking through the strands.

‘Are you actually?’ Arthur asked after a moment, his hand going back to the meat of Francis’ calf, then the cool skin of his knee, ‘Going to quit; go somewhere else.’

Francis shrugged. ‘No. Yes. Inside, mentally, I quit ages ago. But today was just...’ he waved a hand lazily, ‘I don’t know how much longer. Not because it’s hard or bad but, what’s the point. Of being stuck somewhere that won’t change, clinging to something that left a long time ago.’

‘True, I-‘

‘Like you with me.’

Arthur froze, a coldness blooming in his stomach to spread like ice through his veins. He pulled his hand away and Francis eyed him, eyes flicking up and down.

‘How many years has it been?’ He asked, ‘Five? Six?’

Arthur tried to speak but managed only a croak. Swallowed, tried again, ‘Seven.’

‘Ah yes, seven.’ Francis looked around the bathroom, at the cracks that Arthur now remembered as being on the ceiling, the damp mildew stains along the tiles to pillow black in the grouting that hadn’t been there a second ago. ‘Too long, my love.’

Arthur couldn’t speak. He reach forwards, through still, tepid water to where Francis still lay bright and whole against clean ceramic and the vibrant colours of years before. His hands met nothing but the smooth other side.

Francis watched him, silent. There was something of pity in his expression, almost readable as contempt. ‘Arthur.’

‘No.’

‘You have to let me go, Arthur.’

‘Francis.’ Arthur pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, keeping the sound of Francis’ voice safe and away from the reality that his eyes could now see, ‘Please.’

‘It’s funny that this is where you see me.’ A soft splash, the gentlest movement of water, ‘Is this the only place that you have left? The last place you can call me back?’

It was. There had been others, especially right at the start. Francis in the kitchen, Francis in bed. Francis draped across the lounge sofa, hair in Arthur’s fingers, his warmth against his side. But the rooms were too large and the truth too heavy, too much to filter with so much space to repaint. As the years fell away, it became harder through the years to recall Francis there for more than a flash, and Arthur always needed more.

The bathroom, small and cramped in their little old flat, was still enough. Arthur could pull their relationship out there and unfurl it like a canvas, run through imaginary tapes of old conversations and quiet little moments to fill the space and coat it completely.

It still felt so real.

‘Your brothers are worried about you.’ Another splash, coming closer, ‘You look at least ten years older than you should.’

‘Stop. Please, don’t.’

‘Keeping me here is taking too much.’ Another splash. Arthur heard something lift out of the water, heard the plink plink plink of droplets falling from something tangible there with him. ‘How much life do you have left to waste on trying to get back the one that you lost?’

Arthur felt Francis’ hand on his cheek, his fingers cold and hard as bone. Arthur’s breath caught and he squeezed his eyes so tightly that he could hear a roaring of blood in his ears.

‘Are you waiting for me to say that I forgive you? Do you keep bringing me back here, dragging me up, because you hope that maybe I’ll say you’re not to blame? And, since I won’t, you instead play happier memories again and again and again-’ Francis squeezed hard, fingers digging in sharp to Arthur’s skin, ‘to avoid that day?’

Arthur tried to shake his head but couldn't, found his whole body was rigid and stuck. He tried to jerk away, kick his legs at the thing holding him there but his legs couldn’t move. The tap pressed sharply into his back, limescale cutting his skin.

‘Oh.’ The thing that still sounded like Francis tutted, ‘If only you hadn’t been drinking.’

A crash, a car. Night time, Coldplay’s Yellow lifting into the darkness as behind him on the verge... Whiskey on Arthur’s breath, he’d been at the limit but still-

The grip tightened, harder against Arthur’s teeth to force the bitter reality past the lie and into his mouth. ‘Didn’t you have just. One. More.’

Finally, Arthur opened his eyes.

It does not take long for flesh to decompose. Especially in the summer, especially when it was already so ruined, so open.

Nothing hung from Francis’ bones, nothing was left of his softness. His beauty vanished when his soul did, leaving only the shell of a thing that sits before Arthur in chilling water: empty darkness between ribs and cheekbones, picked clean by the creatures of the earth that he was returned to.

‘I’m sorry.’ Arthur whispered to it through its fingers, ‘I’m so, so sorry.’

‘I know.’ Francis’ voice is still in his head; the fused jaw did not move, ‘But that doesn't change anything, does it?’

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

AN:

... I... This just happened and did not go quite according to the plan that I had in mind but we're rolling with it

[epigstolary]

Gosh,, your stuff is always so intricate, and it makes me think about my favourite aspects,,

Fat hands becoming virtually useless, faces so puffy they're unrecognisable,, feet so bloated it's hardly apt to call them that... More like flippers than anything else, flippers on a fat, useless seal that helplessly grows more blubbery

Animalistic comparisons are such a blast,, cause, surely a normal human wouldn't be so fat, wouldn't GET so fat.... You're just something else...

Pig, hog, cow, elephant, whale… why does it seem like the only way to describe what you’ve done — are doing — to yourself is to compare you to an animal? Plenty of people get fat; they grow double chins and beer bellies and thunder thighs. Nothing unusual in that. Nothing that defies ordinary description.

But you’re different. What you’ve done is fundamentally transformative. You’ve let yourself get so fat that nobody who only knew you before your ballooning growth would be able to recognize the old you under those chipmunk cheeks and flabby jowls. Your frame is too laden with fat to walk upright; all you can do is wallow around wherever you last dumped yourself and let your pinched feet keep getting swallowed up by calf fat. With hands like a glove filled with pancake batter, you can’t even write or type or handle a tool even as simple as a fork without your fat getting in the way. You’re a different person than you were when you started gaining — if person can even still be used to describe you, when you’ve traded so much of your humanity for a half-ton of blubber and the tons of food needed to maintain it.

So we look to comparisons with animals you more closely appear to resemble to make sense of what’s happened to you. You lay around in decadent gluttony like your porcine cousin, eating and taking your ease. Your decadence turned to hoggish squalor once your size, and the obscene lard you’d accumulated, made the laying around compulsory. Then your indulgence took on a bovine quality as you started doing little other than graze constantly, your body filling out until your chest and belly and hips all swelled into a largely shapeless bulk, your fixation on chewing and swallowing dimming your senses. Finally, for sheer size, you reached a point where you could only be described as elephantine — too big, too bulky, too ungainly to ever make your way in a world built for humans. No choice but to retire from view, and keep consuming the massive amounts of food that got you this far.

The whale is about the only size up you have left. Fitting that in the end, you’d be compared to an animal known, and famous, for its blubber — immense, distant, unimaginably fat. Unfortunately for you, whales don’t do very well on land…

[buttdumplin]

The boys ask you about your feelings on packers.

cw: poly!141 x transmasc!reader, established relationship, complex gender feelings, comfort word count: 1036

A/N: An immense thank you to @mikichko for having my back and encouraging me with this. Some shit got worked out and it couldn't have happened without her love and support <3

“It’s the potential for disappointment that scares me.”

You lay spread out on the couch in the living room and four sets of eyes turn to you. Simon and Kyle, already sitting nearby, inch closer and you welcome it. They’ve got your head propped up by the softness of Kyle’s thigh, your feet and lower legs resting on Simon’s lap, by the time Johnny and Price come in from the kitchen, lunch prep abandoned. Avoiding their unspoken pleas for eye contact, you turn your head and half bury your face in the warmth of Kyle’s belly. 

“What are we talking about here?” Johnny’s worry evident. 

“Packers,” Kyle explains softly, tracing your features with his fingers.

A little out of it, Johnny turns to Price for further explanation who simply grabs at his own crotch instead of speaking. Johnny nods, quickly back in the loop. He takes a seat on the couch arm, pressing close against Kyle. John settles on the floor, kneeling at your side. You all want to say something, move and offer your seat to him, to spare his knees, but the huff he gives warns that this is not the time.

“And what would the disappointment be?” he gets straight to it.

“I wouldn’t feel it.”

“You’d feel the heft of it, the pressure of your clothes,” Kyle offers.

Johnny follows up quickly, “Change the way you walk and sit too, feel the motions.”

“But I wouldn’t feel it. On me, sure. Against my body, yeah. It would change how I maneuver, but I wouldn’t be able to feel through it. I’m scared it will be a painful reminder of what isn’t.”

John gently cuts through, “Do you want what isn’t?”

You don’t have to deliberate over your response, “No, I’m happy with my growth.”

“So are we,” Kyle winks down at you, Johnny nodding along with a wicked grin.

You chuckle, easing open from the full-body curl you hid in, Simon’s hand squeezing your calf with encouragement. As much as concern might be pinching their faces, all the boys’ bodies are soft in that moment. They all lean towards you, engulfing you with their support, attentive gazes watching every move and response. It’s startling to think they can see so much of you, see through you, but it just envelops you in a nest of safety.

“Then it’s sensation,” John tries again. He eases back a bit when you nod, can’t help but feel a little successful as you open up.

Johnny’s eyebrows scrunch, “But you love the strap.” 

“Yeah, but that’s different.”

“How so?”

“It just is.”

“But you can’t feel that either.”

“I know that.”

The back and forth isn’t very long, but your rising frustration is evident. Just as you’re about to get up to take a break from the conversation, Simon speaks, big, brown eyes meeting yours with a vulnerability of his own.

“Is it because the packer would be specifically for you and not something to be directly used for someone else or their pleasure? Because it would be for you and how you feel and you’re worried how that might detract from any perception of the ‘usefulness’ of it, and that makes you feel selfish?”

Your tears answer him, your throat too choking full of emotion to do anything other than let them fall silently. Your fingers scramble across your body to take his hand, and he meets you with an almost terrifying force, his grip locking you into place as he bends closer to you. 

His eyes remain fixed to yours as he speaks, voice rumbling from his tears, “You deserve to have your needs met. All of them. They do not have to be convenient or in any way beneficial to others. They are your needs, and that makes them important. Doesn’t matter what they are, we will meet them.”

You pull him down against you as your breath finally breaks into a sob, drowning yourself in the warm weight of his body. You can hear him sniffle by your ear, his tears wet your temple. Wrapping your arms around him, comforting him with every little touch, you repeat thank you’s into his skin. 

Kyle stirs and you look up to see the other three boys. John’s face is serious as his speaks, wide shoulders set straight, eyes sharp. Kyle and Johnny take in every word, their posture rigid and familiar as they listen to their instructions. You can’t quite hear what they say over the roaring in your ears, but when John looks down at you with a smile, you know to trust their actions. 

After a couple of minutes of what must be questions and suggestions floating between the three, your breathing eases, as does Simon’s. He slowly peels himself from you, still staying within your reach, and you sit to properly clean yourself up with the tissues Kyle hands you. 

John turns to you, his tone firm, “You want to try.” You nod again and he smiles, shoulders dropping into a more relaxed pose, his voice softer this time, “Need to hear you say it, sweetheart.”

“Yes, I want to try.”

“Good. That’s all we need to know. Johnny will look into the packers and Kyle will find the appropriate wear for them. I know you’ve been wanting a jock strap for a while now,” there’s a hungry spark in his eyes and your face burns at his words. Trust him to remember that detail. Still, the fact that they’re willing to take on that work, to alleviate the stress and frustration and potential overwhelm of looking through options, makes your heart glow.

“They’ll bring you what they find so you can take your pick, at least this first time.”

You turn towards them and they meet you with smiles, eyebrow waggling in an excessive show of giddiness, but you can see a sincere eagerness to help clear on their faces. 

“Simon stays here, you two cozy up while I finish dinner. After we eat, we’ll come back here so the boys can show us their findings on the big screen.”

You startle a bit, “Oh, this is happening tonight?”

John shrugs, smile bright and wide, “Think of it as dessert.”

[sunshinemunchkin]

mornings or nights

pairing: eddie munson x reader

warnings: none, gender neutral r (or i tried lemme know if there are any mistakes), general fluff.

a/n: this is honestly such an impulse write cuz i miss eddie, and also, i wanted to see how you guys would react to something like this if i were to write for him in the future. let me know your thoughts!!

eddie loves mornings and nights. he can never decide if he’s a person born for either or. because for eddie munson, his days all start and end the same.

your quiet breathing welcomes him into another bought of slumber, or your tossing and turning awakens him ever so slightly so he can brush your hair from your neck, him secretly knowing everything about you. how your neck heats up the fastest, but also how you hate being without the blanket over your shoulders. your leg skates up the side of his, rubbing up and down his hairy calf like a cricket trying to mate. eddie is unsure if that analogy is correct, however he finds it suitable for your actions.

your leg flips over onto both of his, hooking and twisting around his limbs until you’re officially classified as two properly intertwined souls. you flip and flounder for a comfier position as you beat his pillows half to death to fold into the crook of your neck. “it’s always eitber too floofy or too flat.” you’ve claimed on a number of occasions after eddie has complained about your movement. he doesn’t mind. he’d rather be elbowed, punched, and kicked in every area of his being rhan to be sleeping without you by his side.

eddie can barely remember a time he wasn’t sleeping with you in his bed. those days must’ve been dark, he thinks. but no more. the man is certain you’re a ray of fucken sunshine from heaven itself whenever you’re drooling on his pillow. you claim you don’t drool, knowing damn well you do, because your cheeks warm at the mention, and you’re always flipping the pillow around so he’s not turning into the puddle when he leans over to press four kisses to your lips in greeting or goodnight.

speaking of, there’s always a good morning or night. it’s always there, and when it’s not, there’s cause for concern. it’s rare when it’s not there, so you’re always expectant on the goodness of night or morning from eddie. and he’s always willing to give it, in hopes you’ll give it back. there’s four kisses to your face, the crook of your arm, or wherever he finds a space. four as in ‘i love you, forever’. yes, eddie munson is a proud cheese ball for you, and yes he did start this tradition. he has no shame. only glory.

eddie munson loves the mornings, and he loves his nights. because they start and end with his favorite person. he opens and closes his eyes to the same sight of you under his arm, and wakes and slumbers to the same weight of you on his dingy old mattress. you’ve never minded. his old tattered sheets, stained and bounce-less bed, you’ve never bat an eye. not at his pillows he’s had forever and never figured out how to wash properly, and neither at his chipping and cracking bed frame, that he’s most certainly outgrown from the growth spurt between 1979 to 1984. yup, eddie munson loves mornings and nights, because eddie munson loves you.

[archrries]

Things They Don't Tell You About Testosterone:

When they said horny I didn't think it would be this bad

Hair. Hair everywhere. You thought you already had hairy legs? Boom. More hair. Thicker hair. Darker hair.

Phantom Dick. I'm not joking, the longer you're on T, the more your brain will feel it. It's there, I swear to god.

Bottom growth hurts?????? I was under the impression it just happened but NO. Within the first 2 weeks that shit hurted

Your facial hair is gonna be patchy I'm sorry 😞 same thing happens with teenage boys. Welcome to your second puberty.

Voice cracks are NOT the same as normal voice cracks. It just feels like the absence of sound rather than a crack?? And, at least for me personally, it's worse when trying to sing than it is when speaking. But don't worry! You'll have plenty of cracking while speaking too!! 😀

Speaking of singing, there is gonna be a point in time where you just can't really sing comfortably because your voice is not low enough for songs but also cannot physically go higher. So you're just kind of stuck in a very limited range.

"You can expect some acne" I was expecting acne on my FACE, chief. Tell me why I found a pimple on my fucking calf????? What reason did it have to be there?????????? Yeah it shows up in odd places. But also! For some, testosterone can make acne better!! Me, personally, it hasn't been bad at all. Just confused about the shoulder pimples.

You're gonna suddenly like cars, trains, graffiti, sports, or woodwork. I don't make the rules. Choose your Pokémon. Mine was graffiti.

Please. Please please please please please apply deodorant more than once a day. You sweat more and have more body odor. I'm so serious. PLEASE re-apply during the day.

I'll add to this if I think of more

[messycunt]

everyone fawns over hucow!Epel, calling him cute and doting over him... it makes him so mad!! he wants everyone to see him as a big, strong, manly man! he gets all huffy with his handlers and starts nipping when they call him cute. imagine: Crowley assigns him a new handler because the other ones are sick of getting headbutted and nipped. in comes his cute new handler, and they're so perfect! they treat him well without being condescending and he really thinks he's finally gotten the perfect handler! then... he gets called cute again. Epel decides to show them how manly he is and make sure he never gets called cute again.

fun epel facts: there's concept art that was displayed at an exhibition showing epel fully cross dressed, it's p cute actually 

his final design also looks almost exactly the way his grandma did when she was younger

cw: josou seme, afab reader, dubcon(reader kinda lets Epel get away w it even though they're not feeling it tbh), hybrids(hucows), male lactation, doggie style, name calling(stupid mutt, bitch, slut etc), slapping, hair pulling, blackmail,

Having been warned that your assigned cow was extremely difficult to work with, that he had run through almost a dozen handlers and that you'd probably quit in a few days had you high strung on your first meeting.

After meeting him you were confused to say the least. 

Epel was polite, soft spoken, and aloof at times. It seemed to be an intentional attempt at distancing himself from you.

But he opens up to you in due time.

You see him as an equal. Unlike his past handlers you don't patronize him. He loves that.

He tries showing off for your attention often but even if his attempts aren't successful he's still going to try. He wants you to think he's cool!

Maybe the stars just aligned at the right time or Vil just trusts you enough to take care of Epel the same way he would but he's less helicoptermom-y now that you're around, much to Epels delight.

Vil will be Vil but at least he's not forcing his way into almost every facet of Epel's life anymore.

Still, not much else has changed.

It's not that he doesn’t like doing shows, he tells you. It's that they treat him more like a heifer than a bull.

He's forced to wear those stupid frilly outfits for shows, all lacey and tight, just to put on performances for venues full of older men. He hates the way they look at him.

He can't wait until his growth spurt finally kicks in, then he'll finally be taken seriously as a bull.

Milking him is easy.

The machines tickle him on good days and make him a little sore on bad ones. depending on which type of day it is he will be either staring into space blankly or blinking away frustrated tears from overstimulation hoping you don't notice.

His milk has a subtly sweet taste.

Unlike with his past handlers Epel doesn't mind taking baths with you, especially if it means getting to spend more time with you in the main house. 

It means alot to him when it's you. Leaning up against your neck while basically feeling him up while washing him is almost like heaven for the boy, almost. 

He wants more but you must not see how frustrated and wanting it leaves him.

It makes him so angry with you truthfully. He wants you so bad and you wouldn't even consider him in a million years.

"See! I ain't some precious lil' calf that needs protectin' so stop treatin' me like one ya bitch!" Epel shouted from behind you, yanking your head back by the hair he held in his balled up fist. 

Droplets of water falling from his still damp lavender pelt onto your back in time with his thrusts.

His movements are frantic and unskilled. Too worried about clumsily chasing his own pleasure to care about much else.

The cold tile of the bathroom floor was uncomfortable to kneel on to say the least, and the hard marble of the tub pushed up against your chest uncomfortably. 

The constant jostling of your body didn't make it easier to ignore.

But you didn't say as much. Trying your best to keep quiet, you don't say much of anything.

Maybe this was your fault? you had no way of knowing a quick compliment would set him off the wrong way but… maybe you should have?

Maybe letting off some steam would be good for him? the poor boy must be so pent up right? maybe it's best to let him go at it till he tires himself out.

Epel's slender hands moved from gripping your hair to desperately tugging at your hair to gripping at the fat of your hips in an attempt to keep his frantic pace.

"I really did think it would be different this time. But y'er no better. Patronizin' me just like the others" he said between pants.

A harsh slap against your thigh echoed in the bathroom before he went back to pulling at your hips.

His continued attempts at pushing his dick as far into the back of your cunt as physically possible became even more frantic, if that was even possible, he was close.

 "But maybe ya' are different. I never had one of those pretty ladies let me mount them so easy before! Y'er jus' like a stupid mutt in heat."

That comment did earn a defeated whimper in reaction from you

With that Epel's petite body stiffened up and he emptied himself of all he had inside of you. White filling your insides in excess and leaking down onto the bathroom floor to form conjoined puddles. 

You didn't even bother to try sitting up.

Not that you could easily with his wet warm body laid out against your back. You took this time to catch your breath while you had the chance.

His softening cock still lay nestled inside of you

"Don' fall asleep on me" he slurred " You still gotta clean me up okay? It'd be a shame if Crowley and Vil found out that the sweet new girl they trusted so quickly was a good for nothing slut that couldn't control herself around even the smallest bulls wouldn't it?"

Sitting up and pulling back enough to slip himself out of you Epel stretched.

The high pitched whine he let out as he did was cute, not that you'd verbalize that, you learned your lesson.