#scrotums

give a whole new meaning to cracking open a cold one with the boys (and by 'the boys' i mean "genuine kangaroo scrotum" of course)

[image description : a metal bottle cap opener with a handle shaped like a pair of testicles covered in a light tan fur. there is a leather pouch next to it that has a drawing of a kangaroo and the inscription GENUINE KANGAROO SCROTUM. /end description]

This is for @synonym-for-life​ and @frnklymrshnkly​ and everyone who has ever said 🤔🤔🤔 when reading smut.

Ron’s nose scrunched in bemusement as he studied the book resting on his legs, When Wands Collide. “Can scrotums be muscled?”

Behind the sofa, Cormac paused mid-squat and peered down at his crotch apprehensively. His blue eyes shone with what Ron thought was self-consciousness as he asked, “What?”

“This erotica,” Ron said, waving the book in the air, “just described the Unspeakable’s bollocks as muscled. ‘Fernando’s balls are firm, virile, and muscled, never wrinkled or saggy, and Lucretio needs to feel their weight in his hand’.”

Cormac paused his workout, and Ron made a mental note that one way to get Cormac to take a break from his circuits, apparently, was to raise the semantics of balls. Generally, Cormac just talked through his exertion, peppering his conversations with grunts and heaves. Ron could do without the grunts and heaves—he didn’t even like the grunts and heaves mid-fuck, much less in the middle of a discussion about renewing their Muggle identities with the Ministry because they were about to expire (a conversation that had happened while Cormac was doing burpees, just yesterday).

Cormac peered over Ron’s shoulder, his sweaty hair brushing Ron’s cheek. “Where?”

Ron pointed, holding the book up to give Cormac a better view. “Is it scrotums?” Ron asked, thoughtful.

“Is what?”

“Two scrotes. Is it ‘scrotums’?”

“Yah, I think,” Cormac said. “Or could be scrota. Is it, like, Latin?"

“I just don’t understand how it could be muscled,” Ron said, and it’s not as if he didn’t have plenty of first-hand experience with scotums. Scrota.

“I mean, it has to have muscles, though,” Cormac said. “It moves.” He paused. “Sometimes.”

“Well, fuck, yeah but my eyelids also have muscles—because reflexes and shit—and you wouldn’t describe my eyelids as muscled.” Ron heard a strange noise and turned to see what Cormac was doing. “Why are you dropping trou?”

“Research, bro,” Cormac said, pulling his beefy legs out of his shorts.

Ron moved away slightly, concerned about what this scrotum research might involve. If it involved weights, Ron wanted to be a good distance away. “Please don’t try to hang weights off your balls,” Ron pleaded. “I don’t have the wherewithal to explain that at St Mungo’s.”

Cormac honked a laugh and slapped Ron on the shoulder. “Nah, mate, that’s not what I meant by research. I’m just going to see how strong your scrote is, despite its wrinkles.” He raised an eyebrow. “Unless you want me to go back to my circuits?”

Surely a frontrunner for an Ig Nobel this year.

We found no significant differences in evaluation of the aesthetic of scrotums in relation to any of these personality traits... Ultimately, it was barely possible to identify a “beautiful” scrotum; we must instead speak of the least ugly.

Butts are cute. 

Like, all butts are cute: big butts, small butts, round butts, flat Butts, wrinkly butts, baby butts, butts with stretch marks, butts with dimples.

Butts are just cute. 

Know what's not cute? Scrotums