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somerunner · 2 months ago

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In my high school, all you needed to get a varsity letter in cross country was, I think, to get under 19 minutes on a 5K. Most of the varsity letter requirements for other sports were similarly easy to meet. Our school wasn't known for athletics.

My first race was a little under 22 minutes long, and every year I struggled to get my time lower than 19:50.

My senior year, I had hit puberty, so I had more strength and cardiovascular fitness than before. I figured I would make it this time, and I trained as optimally as I could. I followed the coaches' directions more closely (my brother and I were once told that, given our fitness, we should never run slower than 9 minutes a mile for an easy run; it took until senior year for me to actually follow that advice). I ate well, slept...probably poorly, and I felt pretty fit compared to previous years. My dad bought me and my brothers Garmin Forerunners, which are GPS watches that can tell you your pace in the middle of a race. He came to as many of our races as he could all throughout high school, and our mom did too (she came to our middle school races in addition to high school ones -- it was no fault of our dad's, not to come to our middle school races; I find it impressive and touching that he made it to almost all of my high school ones. In middle school it was always some random distance so we never really had a consistent distance to truly compete against ourselves with. High school had bigger teams and each race always right around five kilometers, with one notable exception).

The watches helped a lot. (I still have mine from back then, but it struggles to hold a charge for a full run unless you've kept it in the charger until the minute you go running. I don't use it quite as much; I've misplaced my charger too often, and I don't want to look for it a day in advance just so my watch can tell me my strides per minute (arguably important, but I digress). I can't pace myself any better than in high school, but I don't need to because there's no exact season or race I'm training for -- though for something big, like a marathon, I will actually use the watch. My phone can record my pace for less-important runs.)

Anyway. Back to the point. I hadn't broken 19 minutes my whole senior year, and we were down to one last race. I was anxious the whole last week. The last three days, I could practically feel adrenaline seeping into every capillary like I was a sponge. It felt good, unsurprisingly to me (though that may be surprising to you). I felt ready.

The last meet was big, full of schools. I'd just learned from my dad (either that day, or just before some other race in the past week or two) that the "strides," or short almost-sprints you do a few minutes before a race, are actually important -- they prime your body for that first 100-meter dash where you stake your position for the next mile. If you don't do your strides, you'll dip into anaerobic metabolism early, and your legs might be locked up halfway through the race, and that's bye-bye sub-19:00.

I felt like I weighed like nothing. My entire body was a spring. Side note: if you've never put on racing flats/spikes, I encourage you to borrow a pair for a short run (and I mean short! Like 100 meters if you don't run, and a mile or two if you do run). It feels like there's a weightless force field on your foot, with how light it is compared to a normal shoe. It's a surreal feeling.

When we started the race, I felt a touch desperate. I ran only a little slower than my best; you're supposed to hold yourself back for the first mile. I knew that, but I glanced at my watch to see that I was averaging a 5:00/mile pace. That was WAY beyond my target pace, and I barely even noticed. That was heartening to see, but I obviously dialed the pace way, way back to 5:45/mile or something. I needed this record-breaking adrenaline to last me for three miles, not half of one.

Frankly, all I remember of that race was that first 200-meter dash and the disconnect between what I felt and what I saw on my watch. I always have that disconnect during a race, but it was especially pronounced during this race.

The next two miles were hard but good, and I broke 19. I got a massive personal record (PR) to end my high school career with; I think it was more than a minute of improved time. Which is rather insane. Improvement tends to be more incremental than that, but things like this do happen pretty often in running, especially at the relatively slow paces I ran at.

My brother broke 19 and 18 in the same race. Just skipped right over the whole 18-minutes-something-seconds window. I was over the moon for him, of course. We'd both made it past the lettering-qualification by the skin of our teeth, and at the same time, by a huge margin.

He's kept up with consistent running more than I have. He's also gotten me back into running after I semi-gave up on it, and our older brother's gotten back into running too. We, along with our dad, decided to run a marathon/half-marathon together this summer. I'd say we all did well, though I didn't train as much for it as I should have.

I've only ran one marathon so far, and it was recent, but now I'm feeling the itch. I want to run another one, I want to absolutely demolish my time. Admittedly, this is partially because I didn't practice as much as I should have, and I've seen my brothers' times, so I know how much farther I can go.

If you've come close to your (previous) best at something, you might have realized too that it was only a false summit. Could be a project within your hobby, could be a physical accomplishment, it could be anything that requires some level of effort large or small. But I hope, when you realized you could do even better than you just did, that it felt inspiring.

It's kind of a rush.

#tried to make this as snappy as I could #because as faux-enlightened as I may come across in this post #I live for those notes baby it's all about the notes #running runnerpost #runnerpost sidestory #runnerpost

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flemingsfreckles · 2 months ago

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Stitched Together

Synopsis: based off this request for a paramedic reader fic

Warnings: none, nothing gore-y/super medical in this

WC: 2.8k

A/N: this could be a series of people are interested but I also wrote it that it could be a stand alone fic, up to yall if you want to see more 🤷‍♀️

You noticed the way her eyebrows had raised when you walked in the room. You immediately assumed she was looking at Nathan as he followed in behind you with more equipment. However you realized it maybe was you that had caught her attention when her eyes remain fixated on you. They wandered over your body, head to toe and then back up as you set down supplies, you also noticed the way she smiled back quickly when you gave her a polite smile.

It wasn’t uncommon that you and your partner got reactions when you came to teach a class or when you were on a call. Nathan was an attractive man by societal standards, the girls tended to drool over him. Which meant usually the men drooled over you, which you had no interest in. You’d get handed guys phone numbers, their social media usernames, invited for dates, and you were grateful that work gave you an excellent excuse to turn down their advances.

On the few occasions girls had shown interest, you’d taken them up on the offer. Flings and hookups were fun when you were in your early twenties, but in the past few years, you wanted something more serious. Unfortunately, most people didn’t understand your work schedule, they didn’t understand the long hours away, and something serious never seemed to work out for you.

There had been a few girls that you had attempted relationships with, never amounting to anything, a few months before things would fall apart. They hadn’t understood the burden your job had on you, physically, mentally or emotionally. You loved your job, you loved the fulfillment of helping others, but it still took a toll. There were days you came home and couldn’t sleep from the things you had seen, the sounds you had heard, it was jarring, and most girls your age didn’t know how to handle an adult with nightmares. After two failed relationships, you swore off the idea of girls, no hookups, no dates, no relationships. You’d remained single, alone, for nearly two years, looking after yourself, taking care of yourself.

Trying to pretend you didn’t notice the girl's reaction or staring, you turned away to begin setting up, oblivious to the conversations going on behind you between the two teammates.

Oh my god you’re practically drooling.” Sam shoved her elbow into Jessie’s side.

“Ow!” Jessie shifted away, swatting at her hand. “I am not!”

”I mean she’s cute I guess.” She pauses for a moment. “Wait a minute, is it the uniform? Does that do it for you? Or is it the tattoos?”

“I’m moving seats.” Jessie says standing up, only to be followed by her teammate down the row to a different seat where the teasing continued.

“I think for once, more of them are interested in you than me.” Nathan whispered to you as the two of you set up pamphlets on the table. “Especially the one on the end, second row, she’s cute.” You glared at him before moving to grab more papers, hoping he’d stop talking but he didn’t. “Oh come on, it’s been so long since you got laid, I know you said you’re done with flings, but come on, professional athlete might top astronaut trainee in the the list of professions we’ve fucked.”

What Nathan was referring to was something stupid you did early on in your career, you and Nathan decided to see who could sleep with someone with the coolest job. A couple months of sleeping around for both of you came to an end when Nathan had slept with someone training to be an astronaut and you both decided that would be impossible to beat.

You just give him more aggression scowl and he throws his hands up in surrender. “Okay, maybe I’m secretly hoping getting laid will make you nicer.” He shrugs as he turns away.

When you stood back up, turning to face the room you found your eyes wandering to the end seat of the second row, there sat the same girl who had checked you out earlier, now sitting in a different seat, the girl next to her talking her ear off. She briefly smiles at you when you make eye contact for the second time that day and you watch as the girl next to her begins laughing.

The first part of your training goes off without a hitch. The players and staff all listened, most of them willing to participate in answering questions and engaging with you, making it significantly less painful then when you did these classes for college like who always made sure you knew they’d rather be anywhere else.

You let the players divide up in small groups, each practicing the CPR you had just taught them, you and Nathan both walking around to assist the players and answer any questions they might have. You make a few laps before you're flagged down by one of the girls. “Hi Sam, what do you need?”

“Jessie might want some help, she had a question.” The girl who had waved you over points across from her to the brown hair girl who had smiled at you earlier during the presentation. The startled, yet cute, expression across her face told you that she most likely didn’t have a question.

“Maybe I can answer it?” Doing your best to stay focused on your job, you offer your help.

The girl looks up at you with surprise. “Oh, no, I didn’t have a question.” You watch the way she sends an aggressive pointed look across to the girl before looking back up to you with a smile. “I’m good, I paid attention.”

“Okay, just let me know if anything comes to mind Jessie, you two are doing a good job.”

You walked away, going to assist other players who needed some further instruction, overhearing the hushed conversation between the two girls you had just left.

“I was trying to get you to talk to her, you dork!”

“I didn’t have a question! I listened, I know what I’m doing. I didn’t want her to think I was stupid!” Jessie argues back, clearly annoyed by her teammate.

“That wasn’t the point!” Sam spoke through her teeth. “I was hoping she’d do that whole, come behind you and put her big, strong, tattooed paramedic arms around you and show you how to do it, just so I could watch you panic.”

“I hate you.” You hear Jessie mumble, and you find yourself having to bite your lip to hold back the smirk that is dying to come onto your face. You shake the small smile from your face when you notice Nathan looking at you from across the room with a squint.

You continue to walk around the room, observing the team, until it’s time for you to move on to the first aid section of your training. The team is back in their chairs, you stand at the front with Nathan again.

“I just need a volunteer.” You both hated and loved the audience participation aspect. Sometimes your volunteers were great, easy to work with, asked questions, made the whole process easier, and other times they made it harder, messing around and making it a chance to try out their comedy career instead of helping with the training.

“Jessie!” You hear someone say, before a couple other voices chime in also saying her name. You look over at her, she’s violently shaking her head. A slight wave of sympathy arises for her as the poor girl is pulled and pushed from her seat by the hands of her teammates and shoved in your direction.

“Hi Jessie.” You do your best to ease you nerves as she drags her feet up to meet you.

“Hi.” She mumbles, you can tell she has no desire to be your volunteer or the center of attention.

“Are you fine with me touching you?” You ask her, before she can answer for herself, her teammate joins in.

“I’m sure she’s more than fine with some touching.” You watch as Jessie squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, her lips pinching tight and a small blush coming across her face.

You try to ignore the comments, as you’re easily able to tell they’re embarrassing Jessie. “It would be just your arm.” You clarify still waiting on Jessie to give you an answer.

“Yeah that’s fine.” She holds out her arm to you. You try your best to remain professional about everything, a bit harder to say than do.

You proceed to go though basic first aid, explaining that while at work and training they were surrounded by staff and trained professionals in first aid, it wouldn’t hurt for everyone to have a little bit of knowledge. You show how to bandage in a few different ways for more severe cuts, how to treat burns, and before you know it you’re sending a less embarrassed Jessie back to her seat as you let Nathan take over and finish up the rest of the class for the day.

The training ends and a few players and staff make their way up to you and Nathan, thanking you both for your time. When the line ends and the room begins to clear, Jessie finally finds her way up to Nathan, thanking him quickly before moving over to you.

“I’m going to start packing stuff into the truck.” Nathan says, winking over his shoulder as he grabs a box and starts putting away equipment. You nod at him before turning your attention to the girl in front of you.

“Hey, just wanted to thank you, I appreciate your time.” Her smile is soft, kind, like a hug from a friend you’d known for ages, and yet you didn’t even know the girl’s last name.

“Oh, of course, and thank you for being my ‘volunteer’ today.” You make air quotes around the word volunteer. After all, it was more of a forced participation, than a volunteer on her end.

“Yeah, no problem.” She says in a gentle voice.

“You don’t have to lie, I could tell you hated every minute of being up there.”

“Yeah, I did. I hate being put in the center of attention, but I actually came up here to apologize for my teammates, they were a bit immature.”

“Oh please, it’s fine Jessie.” You bring your hand to her forearm. The teasing her teammates gave her had been nothing to the immaturity you’d experienced from high school and college boys, it hadn’t even phased you. In the moment you had been more focused on Jessie’s reaction to the teasing than the actual comments themselves.

“Yeah but still I’m sorry, teammates were teasing me, I’m pretty introverted and they think it’s funny to see me in uncomfortable situations.” Her hand comes up to tuck a curl that had fallen forward back behind her ear.

“Hopefully I didn’t make it any more uncomfortable.”

She shakes her head, causing the same curl to fall forward again and she once again reaches to fix it. “Oh no, you didn’t, if anything I think you made it a bit more relaxing, I mean, like, you’re good at your job.”

“Thanks.”

“Speaking of jobs, this is obviously mine, you ever been to a game?” Jessie asks, you already know where this is headed, and while you could make it easy on the girl and tell her now that you’d happily come see the game, you can’t help but find the way she stumbles while talking to be charming, so you let her carry on.

“A while ago, when I was younger.” You’d gone on a date to a game, a date that had ended terribly, but you weren’t about to tell her that.

“Oh cool.”

“Yeah it was.” You’d always had interest in going back, but had never gotten around to doing so. Work keeps you busy, you didn’t do much else with your time.

“Would you want to go to another?” She questions, raising her eyebrows in hope.

“Yeah I mean I definitely would.”

“We play this Friday, I have tickets, I mean, I’m obviously playing, but I get family and friend tickets, but I just moved here, I haven’t met too many people in the area and my family isn’t close so the tickets usually just get handed off to a teammate or go unused. If you want to come to the game, I have tickets.”

“I work Friday.” As much as you had used work as an excuse before, this was the opposite. You actually had to work, and for once you’d rather be attending the game, watching the girl in front of you play.

“Oh, right of course, gotta go save lives.”

“Yeah, something like that.” You shrug, you weren’t going to tell her that while yes you’d saved lives, more often than not your shifts included helping people stand up after they’d fallen and nothing more than the basic first aid you’d demonstrated that afternoon.

“Right. Well, I guess I’ll get going, it was really nice to meet you, thank you again.” When she begins to turn you notice your hand is still resting on her forearm. Taking the opportunity to stop her you tighten your grip slightly.

“Jessie?”

“Yeah?” She looks surprised.

“I’m assuming you have other home games?” To be fair you had no idea when the season started or ended, for all you knew it would be over this week.

“Yeah, we do.” She nods.

Pausing, you wait to see if she’ll get what you were trying to ask, when she stays looking at you, you ask. “Any chance a ticket is free for any of those games? Or do you plan to have made some friends by then?”

You watch as Jessie processes the teasing joke, confused at first before she nods her head. “Yeah, yeah those are free, I can get you one for another game.”

“Cool, I’d like that, I’d like to watch you play.” Feeling as if you’ve given the girl enough grief, you try to make it clear you’re specifically interested in watching her play, not just her team.

“I mean the whole team is talented and good to watch.” Just the response you would expect from someone who hates being at the center of attention.

“I know Jessie.”

“Sorry I’m not sure why I didn’t think about offering a different game. If I can just get your number, I’ll text you the info closer to the date for getting the ticket.” She reaches into her pocket, fumbling with her phone before handing it to you.

“There ya go, that’s a bit more smooth.” She gives you a tight lipped smile as you take her phone before grabbing your own out. You enter your number and send a quick smiley face text to yourself from her phone. “Alright, now I’ve got your number.” You hold up your own phone.

“I’ll text you.” Jessie says smiling and putting her phone back into her pocket.

“I’ll be waiting.” You wink at her and almost laugh as you can see the internal panic for a moment as Jessie’s eyes widen and she immediately looks down as her cheeks turn a darker shade of red. She smiles and nods before turning and walking toward the exit.

“So, getting back into the dating pool are we?” Nathan snaps you out of your stare at the door Jessie had walked out. You blink a few times before turning around putting your best stoic face on.

“No, I was just thanking her for being a volunteer.”

“Mhmm maybe you were but you were also flirting with her while you did it.” He nods mockingly.

“I wasn’t flirting dude.” Trying your best to deny the behavior you knew was true, you had flirted with her, you hadn’t flirted with a girl in months, you hadn’t wanted to, but something about Jessie made you want to.

“You were, Miss ‘thank you for being my volunteer, hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable, of course I want to come watch you run around all sweaty in your uniform, maybe I’ll get to see your bedroom after, here’s my number.’” Nathan puts his arm on your forearm like you had to Jessie and he teasingly bats his eyelashes at you, mocking your conversation with the Canadian.

Quickly snatching your forearm away from him you roll your eyes. “Stop. There wasn’t any mention of a bedroom or anything, just going to a game.” You bend down and grab a box in a rush, heading for the door to your truck. You wanted to get out of the room that suddenly felt too stuffy as your cheeks began to burn, knowing he was right.

“Maybe you didn’t say it but you were probably thinking it.”

“Stop.”

“It was flirting!” Nathan calls after you. “You'll soon be adding professional athlete to the list.”

#jessie fleming #jflem #jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #jessie fleming blurb #canwnt x reader

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johnbrand · 3 months ago

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The Agent

The Agent made his way down the dock, his target approaching from the water in approximately 60 seconds. Underneath his perfectly polished suit hid a sculpted, muscular body fit for an athletic male, trained hard for the purpose of accomplishing any task ordered to him. However, none of that training would be utilized today, as his mission was objectively straightforward. No weapons, no fighting, not even any secrecy–all the Agent required was the small item in his pocket.

Standing now at the end of the dock, the Agent watched as his target approached. A younger male, in his early twenties according to the file he had read in advance. Thin, not particularly attractive and still holding some youthful weight around his face. The target was struggling to row his shell, the sweat visible on his loose shirt and shorts. The target was none the wiser to the Agent staring him down just yards away, too focused on his path ahead as the Agent reached for his device.

In a matter of seconds, the miniature blowgun was in the Agent’s mouth. With a steady breath, the almost-microscopic dart soared across the water, directly into the target’s neck. Thanks to its size, the impact felt like nothing more than a little pinch, barely registerable. But it had still sunk, its contents absorbed into the neck. The Agent then turned and retreated back to his vehicle, his objective completed.

The target was nearly done with his row, now regretting having taken out the shell. His typical canoe, which he had become fairly skilled at, was apparently under repair. The target had not been made known to this besides a small note on the door to the boathouse. Even his father, a wealthy military tycoon, had not been made aware either, but had suggested using the old shell instead. His strength had not been built for a boat twice the size of what he was used to, causing his usual trip to take much longer than expected.

Seeing the shore of his father’s mansion come into view, the target decided to drop the oars and let the boat glide in. A sudden ache in his muscles made this decision for him; he would only recorrect the shell if necessary. The target let his mind wander, going through the academic course materials he would need to study over the rest of the day. But for some reason, the more he thought, the more his mind became muddled. It was almost like his head was filling with cotton, covering and obscuring the contents, forcing the target to search a bit more than usual to find what he was looking for.

The Agent slowly brought his car into a parked position. A safe yet viewable distance away from the shore, he scoped out his target, bringing his high-resolution camera into focus. He could see that the injection had already taken most of its effect. In the short time-span that the Agent had been gone, his target had nearly doubled in size. Even seated inside his shell, the Agent could discern that the target had grown over half a foot since he had last seen him.

Other changes were noted accordingly as they appeared. The increased muscle mass, the disappearance of acne, the heightened testosterone production. As the target got closer, the Agent was able to identify further details. Overall masculinization through a more refined haircut, sharper jaw, and inflated pouch (the target’s clothes now practically glued onto his frame). Increase in body hair, increase in sensuality, decrease in intelligence. That final factor was something the Agent already knew, but was confirmed by the target’s slower reaction speeds and more boisterous mannerisms.

The Agent snapped a few images as the target hopped out of his shell and into the shallowest portions of water near the shore. The Agent would report the mission as a success back to his commander. The target’s father had initially rejected their request of using his military goods for their own private services. But in less than 24 hours, the father would reconsider his decision once he realized his son had become another mindless, muscled drone for their operation. He would give anything to get his son back, unaware that his son would never return, instead becoming just another Agent.

#male tf #male transformation #dumbification #jock tf #enforcement tf

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p0orbaby · 5 months ago

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Slow Motion Mountain Climber

summary: leah signs up for pilates, what could go wrong?

warnings: none

a/n: based on this request !

word count: 981

Leah texts you on a Tuesday morning, right before your alarm, like she does whenever something has gone terribly wrong in her life. Like when she found out gluten was in soy sauce, or when she discovered she might have to use that godforsaken 6 train in New York. This time, it's a message that reads: Just signed up for Pilates. You may never see me again.

You roll your eyes, groaning at the incoming rant that's sure to follow. Leah's the kind of person who only does new things for one of two reasons: someone dared her, or she's trying to prove to herself that she is still young and can get away with eating three chocolate croissants in a single sitting. You suspect it’s a combination of both. She’s mentioned something about trying to build a "strong core," which you assume is code for "I'm slowly being bullied into this by the fact that all my teammates have six-packs and I have a soft spot for bread."

At 7:45 AM, just as you’re pouring coffee, Leah calls. You pick up on the third ring because you’re not a monster.

“I’m going to die,” she says, without so much as a hello

“Bold start to the day,” you reply. “Anything specific, or is it just a general feeling?”

“Pilates,” she says, and it sounds like a curse word. “Do you know what that is?”

You almost spit out your coffee because, yes, you know what Pilates is. You’re not sure what’s more shocking: that Leah doesn’t know or that she actually followed through on signing up.

“Yeah, Leah, I know what Pilates is”

“Well, it’s hell. No one told me it was this hard. And the instructor—she’s, like, smiling at me while she’s killing me. How are you supposed to trust someone who's trying to make you do something called a 'teaser' while she grins like a lunatic?”

You can picture it now. Leah, in the middle of a room full of people who've been doing this since their nannies signed them up for ballet at age three, contorting herself on a reformer like it’s some kind of medieval torture device. Meanwhile, the instructor—probably named something like Tiffani with an 'i'—is telling her to “engage her core,” as if Leah didn’t already have a job that required her to do that for 90 minutes straight, several times a week.

“Did you die, though?”

“Almost. My legs were shaking. My abs—I didn’t even know I had abs. Why does anyone do this willingly? I’ve literally been fouled by Fran Kirby, and that was less painful”

“Maybe you should stick to yoga”

“Yoga!” Leah scoffs. “I can do yoga. That’s just stretching and pretending you’re one with the universe or whatever”

You let her have that one because there’s no use arguing with someone who once mistook a meditation class for an excuse to nap in public.

Leah continues, “This class, though—it's not natural. They make you put your legs in straps. Straps! Like a harness, but for your feet. And then they expect you to lift them while you're suspended in the air like some sort of flying squirrel”

You’ve taken Pilates before, so you know exactly what she’s talking about, but you can’t help but laugh. Leah, in her infinite wisdom, probably signed up for the most advanced class because, as she said once, “Go big or go home.” Now, she’s paying for it.

“Maybe you should ask to start in a beginner class,” you suggest, knowing full well she won’t.

“Yeah, no. I already told them I’m an athlete. Can’t back down now. But I swear, if one more person tells me to ‘breathe through it,’ I’m going to punch them in the face”

You imagine the looks on the faces of her Pilates classmates as she throws a fit in the middle of a serene, candle-lit studio. You’ve seen Leah frustrated before, but this is a new level of agitation, and it’s all directed at something she willingly signed up for.

“Maybe it’s good for you,” you offer, “builds character”

“Yeah, and scars. On my pride”

You laugh again because you can see where this is going. Leah, who tackles challenges like they’re personal vendettas, is going to keep going back to that class until she can hold a plank longer than anyone else, even if it kills her. Or, more likely, until she finds something else to distract her, like knitting or extreme ironing.

"I’m just saying," she adds, after a pause, "if I end up with a six-pack, it’s because I earned it. None of this ‘strong core’ bullshit. I want abs of steel. Like, I want to be able to crack a walnut between my ribs”

You’re crying with laughter now, imagining Leah doing sit-ups in front of a mirror at home, testing her progress with various hard-shelled nuts.

“Don’t worry, babe,” you say, trying to calm yourself down. “If you do get abs of steel, I’ll make sure to bring walnuts everywhere we go”

“Good,” she replies, and you can hear her finally start to laugh along with you. “You’re on walnut duty. And if this all goes horribly wrong and I never make it out of Pilates alive, just know it was the straps that did me in”

You shake your head, still smiling. “You’ll be fine. But maybe next time, start with a class that doesn’t sound like it was designed by someone who secretly hates people”

Leah sighs dramatically. “Noted. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to spend the rest of the day lying flat on the floor and cursing Joseph Pilates”

“You do that, babe,” you say, hanging up as you imagine her sprawled out on the carpet, texting you updates about how her muscles are rebelling against her. And you can’t wait to read every single one.

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #awfc #awfc x reader #engwnt #engwnt x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso community

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stillfoodforguys · 9 months ago

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I’ve been training as a swimmer my whole life, with the hope that I might enter the Olympics one day. But there was another athlete taking the world by storm, and I knew I could never catch up with him.

You could tell that Damien was powerful just from his tall, ripped body. But it was even more obvious when he swam, his seemingly inhuman strength the cause of his regularly record breaking performance. The rest of us suspected he had a secret, which might have been something to do with other trainees in our group disappearing without a trace. Little did I know, I was about to find out from the man himself.

Damien cornered me in the changing rooms after a practice session, flexing his pecs at me before making a sexual advance. I didn’t want to pass up the chance to be pleasured by this hairy hunk, allowing him to pin me against the wall and tease my hole with his fingers before the main event. His long, solid shaft slid all the way inside me, his hips slamming hard against my toned ass. His hands wandered all over my body as he fucked me, examining every detail of my muscles while he pressed his own massive, wet body against my back. With his cock firmly pressed against my prostate, he whispered something directly into my ear.

“You’ve worked hard to get your body nice and lean, haven’t you? But I’m the star athlete here, and I can put all that power to much better use…”

I felt Damien grab my neck before everything went dark, my head pulled into some kind of tight, slimy passage. I realised that he was eating me, but had absolutely no chance of fighting back against such a massive man. With a few strong gulps I was packed into his sweltering stomach, my body making his midsection round and bloated. I could hear him laugh cruelly and confidently as I squirmed inside him, but once his fun was over it was time to absorb what I had to offer.

Damien flexed his abs to crush me within his stomach, my bones creaking and air rushing out of my lungs as digestive juices came flooding into his tank. I was knocked out by the raw power of his body before it broke me down in a matter of seconds, and his bloated belly compressed back to its original size.

#gay vore #mm vore #oral vore #digestion

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luvzshy · 4 months ago

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Hii! I just saw you’re taking requests

I was hoping you could write Kate bishop x fem reader where reader gets assigned to train with Kate and Kate and yelena are best friends. Yelena keeps making Kate’s crush on reader obvious and both reader and Kate are clumsy when they’re training✨ so like fluff with some low-key tension between the two?🧚🏽‍♀️🙏🏽thank you in advance

Clumsy Crush

Training sessions were supposed to be straightforward. Get in, do the work, and come out stronger. That’s what you told yourself, anyway. But nothing about training with Kate Bishop seemed straightforward—not when she constantly looked at you with those sparkling blue eyes, not when her face flushed every time you so much as glanced at her, and especially not when Yelena, her best friend, made it her mission to tease her every second of the way.

You arrived at the training facility, greeted by Kate’s usual bright smile. “Hey! Ready for another session?”

You smiled back, your heart doing that stupid fluttering thing it had started doing around Kate. “Always.”

Kate was dressed in her typical training gear—black athletic pants and a fitted tank top, her long hair pulled into a high ponytail. She looked ready to take on the world, except for the nervous energy that radiated off her whenever you were near. You pretended not to notice.

Just as you began to stretch, Yelena appeared, lazily leaning against the doorframe, already grinning like she knew something you didn’t. “Oh look, it’s Kate and her special training partner,” she teased, her accent making the words sharper.

Kate shot her a glare, her cheeks already starting to turn pink. “Yelena, don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

Yelena smirked, moving closer but keeping her distance just enough to enjoy the show. “Nope, I think this is the most fun I’ll have all day. Watching you trip over your own feet while trying not to look at her—how could I miss that?”

You chuckled softly, catching Kate’s eye, and she groaned, already looking defeated. “Don’t listen to her. She’s just… being Yelena.”

“I can see that,” you replied, stifling a grin.

Kate cleared her throat and tried to focus. “Alright, let’s start with some basic hand-to-hand. Nothing too intense, just to warm up.”

You nodded, stepping onto the mat opposite her, mirroring her stance. Kate took a deep breath, her focus darting between your eyes and your movements. “You ready?” she asked.

You nodded, but before you could respond, Yelena’s voice cut through again. “She’s not going to bite, Kate. Unless, of course, you ask her nicely.”

Kate’s foot slipped just as you moved in, your hand raised to strike. Instead of a clean block, Kate flailed for balance, her arm colliding awkwardly with yours. She grabbed at your shoulder to steady herself, but that only pulled you both down, tangled together as you hit the mat with a loud thud.

“Ow—oh my god, I’m so sorry!” Kate stammered, her face inches from yours. Her hands were braced awkwardly on either side of you, and for a second, neither of you moved. The closeness was… overwhelming. You could feel her breath against your cheek, and your heart raced, but you tried to play it cool.

“It’s okay,” you said, biting back a laugh. “I’ve had worse falls.”

Kate’s face was a deep shade of red as she quickly scrambled off you, nearly tripping over her own feet again in the process. Yelena’s laughter filled the room. “This is even better than I imagined. Kate, you’re doing great!”

Kate threw her a half-hearted glare before offering you a hand to pull you up. “I swear, I’m usually not this… clumsy.”

“I believe you,” you said, though the smile tugging at your lips made it clear you were enjoying this more than you let on.

The two of you reset, trying to get back into the rhythm, but it was like the air between you had shifted. Every time Kate moved, you could feel her hesitation—like she was too afraid of accidentally touching you again. But despite the tension, or maybe because of it, you found yourself growing more aware of her in a way that made your chest tighten.

Kate lunged toward you, but her foot slipped on the mat, and once again, her balance faltered. You instinctively reached out to catch her, your hands landing on her waist just as hers found your shoulders. The contact sent a jolt through you, and for a brief moment, neither of you moved.

Yelena clapped loudly from her spot, making you both jump. “Wow, that was almost smooth! Maybe next time you can skip the falling part and just kiss her already.”

“Yelena!” Kate nearly shrieked, her voice high with embarrassment. She immediately let go of you, backing up so fast that she nearly tripped again.

You were trying to hold back your laughter at this point. “It’s fine, really,” you reassured her, but you could feel the blush creeping up your own neck.

Kate took a deep breath, clearly flustered but determined to power through. “Let’s… let’s try that again. But, you know, without the falling.”

She lunged at you again, this time more cautious, but it didn’t take long before another misstep had you both stumbling. You tried to sweep her leg, but she tripped over her own feet, grabbing onto you to stay upright. Unfortunately, her attempt to stay balanced only ended with both of you crashing onto the mat again—this time with you on top of her.

You both froze, faces close, breaths mingling. Kate’s hands were resting gently on your arms, and for a moment, you swore she was about to say something—maybe finally acknowledge what Yelena had been teasing about this whole time. But instead, she just stared at you, wide-eyed and red-faced.

“Are you two done flirting, or should I call it a day?” Yelena asked, her tone dripping with amusement.

You quickly rolled off Kate, trying to regain some semblance of professionalism. Kate covered her face with her hands, letting out a groan. “This is the worst training session of my life.”

You laughed, reaching over to help her up. “Hey, at least it’s memorable.”

Kate peeked at you from between her fingers, her lips curving into a small smile despite her embarrassment. “Yeah… memorable.”

Yelena finally stood, clapping her hands as she walked toward the two of you. “Well, I think it’s clear that Kate’s not going to get any training done while you’re around, so how about we call it for today?”

Kate sighed, clearly both relieved and frustrated. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. “Same time?”

Kate gave you a small wave before turning to follow Yelena out of the room, but before she left, she glanced back at you one more time. That nervous energy was still there, but now it was mixed with something else. Something that made you think maybe—just maybe—Yelena was right.

And that was definitely something to look forward to.

#kate bishop #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop x female reader #kate bishop x y/n #kate bishop x you #kate bishop fluff #hailee steinfeld x reader fluff #hailee steinfeld fluff #hailee steinfield fic

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joaofelix70 · 1 year ago

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MISS DIPLOMAT & MR. CHARMING |

dominik szoboszlai x female reader.

author's note: this handsome man's living rent-free in my head. he's a freaking masterpiece. talented, funny, charismatic, attractive. i watched interviews, tiktok videos made by supporters and much more to understand a little bit of his language, personality and what he does towards friends and loved ones. laughed a lot! i made my homework as a writer, hope you enjoy it! (compliments and any kind of retributions are more than welcomed).

summary: your job is involving the commitment of unify the population and create interrelations to another countries, using the eurocup qualifiers and the hungary national team executions. you just didn't expect to fall in love with the no. 10's captain player.

words and characters: 1,811/11,223. it was three days working too hard on this story. i'm begging for your consideration, lol.

────

sports diplomacy: it's the unique power of sport to bring people, nations, and communities closer together via a shared love of physical pursuits. this responsibility is the reason of a transition between strangers to connected individuals, advancing foreign policy goals and augmenting sport for development initiatives. the complex landscape where sport, politics, and diplomacy overlap become clearer, as do the pitfalls of using sport as a tool for overcoming and mediating separation between people, nonstate actors, and states. the power of sport has never been more important. so far, the 21st century has been dominated by disintegration, introspection, and the retreat of the nation-state from the globalization agenda. in such an environment, scholars, students, and practitioners of international relations are beginning to rethink how sport might be used to tackle climate change, gender inequality, and the united nations sustainable development goals, for example. to boost these integrative, positive efforts is to focus on the means as well as the ends, that is, the diplomacy, plural networks, and processes involved in the role sport can play in tackling the monumental traditional and human security challenges of our time. credits: international studies association and oxford university press.

────

MLSZ (hungarian football federation) ──

new training ground at telki.

"i can't believe that being in places like this made up my most theoretically utopian childhood dreams. what a progress in front of me!" you still witness exciting moments where you pinch yourself, trying to believe in the reality that surrounds you: visiting the new training center of the players who are just a few meters away from you, getting ready to represent an entire country.

"your presence is our privilege. a voice of the spread of eurocup to our nation, right here…" the technical director gives you deference, obtaining a measure of humbleness and respect by you.

"the honor belongs to me in its entirety. grateful for having me, sir. while the view is immersive and captivating — my fervent congratulations to everyone involved — could we retreat from the pleasant glass-enclosed room and see everything closer, on the outside? please? i will never get used to this atmosphere." you pour politeness and charisma to the staffs around you, being directed to the proximity of the field and saluting the employees who pass through your path.

meet dominik — your szobo — instigates the nostalgic combination of detailed moments in which your thoughts display as photographic retrospectives. you're incapable to oppose the little enthusiastic laughs, fidgeting the rings between your fingers and avoiding possible suspicious glances from others. however, for you, this wouldn't actually work. the lives of you both are correlated, but different.

the training session is finished. clapping your hands and celebrating the performances, you greet the athletes and recognize some familiar people. nevertheless, reality slows down after those dark woody eyes capture through your soul. his arms tattoos are glorified by the sun's rays, the same illuminated smile is offered to you: that one you got during the very first time you saw him — instantly knowing he made you testimony the accuracy of freedom, catharsis and emotional amorous complement. that he'd be the one to introduce you what you never experienced, what you thought you'd never receive or deserve. what love truly is. when you were novices in your actual professions, not even imagining the future gifts of your unreal purposes.

"there you are!" intimately, dominik points at you, being reciprocated by vibrant nods and your old sort of secret — not that mysterious or serious — handshake. "még mindig emlékszel rá? (still remembering it?). you're a real one!"

"hogy tudnám elfelejteni? alábecsülsz engem. (how could i forget it? you're underestimating me)". your defensive actions demonstrate purposeful falseness. masking any sensitive, verbal or figurative communicative fragment from him is a difficulty that makes you give in over time. honestly, you never complain about this. it's like he wants to understand the factors and layers of you.

"a te kézfogás fickó. ne merészelj lecserélni engem. (your handshake man… don't you dare to replace me)". a shameless wink is send to you, butterflies acquiring space in your stomach.

"és hivatalosan is a szavamat adom rá. (and you officially have my word on it)." your gloss is pigmented against your fingers while you raise it up, displaying an oath, wondering if szoboszlai comprehends that his replacement in your life would be blasphemous.

"diplomata kisasszony, (miss diplomat)…" the hungarian fingerprints are shared and you recognize the sign to hold them, ready to perform your typical fashion icon moment. "gorgeous as always. go ahead! you know what to do!".

amusement surrounds you with the nickname's citation. although, you could feel some curious glances, from the outsiders, about the intimacy between you and him. "i appreciate, our top-class national bless…" you move your body in rotations to exclaim the outfit's characteristics, lifting your feet to show off the specificities of your heels. "how is your hair so well-groomed after sweating, though?" your arms cross and you raise an eyebrow in questioning, trying to hide your fascination.

"thank you, my number-one fan, but don't change the subject. finish our inside joke, c'mon!" dominik grabs his water bottle and spreads the cooling liquid on his forehead, wiping the glowing droplets across his face as he lifted his jersey high enough to exhibits his fortified abs.

your attention is directed to any surrounding scenery, throat being piked. szoboszlai pretends he doesn't notice, preventing to embarrass you.

"alright, alright! you've won, bájos úr… (mr. charming)". your final comment escapes as, practically, a whisper. you can't control the shy laughter, coupled with the considerable redness invading your cheeks.

"that's the secret to make my day!" using his tongue to reproduce a sharp noise, he matches your humorous reactions. "would you like me to show you the infrastructure changes? i'm just gonna take a shower!"

"i've already been granted a tour around here, but in case you insist…" during the dialogue, some athletes cross your space, wishing them good luck for the competition. your concentration on the activity is significant, at the point that dominik's silent admiration goes unnoticed.

"i mean, you know me! i'm gonna insist anyway, so…" he reaches your captivity, bringing you jollification.

"i'll rate you as a personal tour guide. now, go there!" jesting each other, you both exchange exaggerated reverences, like a challenge of who makes the most chaotic one.

────

walking around the area, various subjects are explored, informations entrusted. you ask and are updated about his ethereal younger sister.

portraits of the generations are framed. you magnifies his presence in celebratory pictures, dedicated to find him in the memories and achievements on that wall. pride shines from you and the hungarian finds it lovely.

"you know i'm a sucker for accents… they're much more than mere verbal characteristics, they're stories: life experiences, marks and scars. identities and cultural integrations." the topic is random. through generalized opinions, you're explaining conceptions and dominik is retaining mental observations. he exalts every scrap of your identity, like a faithful worshiper.

"basically, you're admitting being enchanted by my accent. i can see the stars in your eyes. a win is a win!" szoboszlai and his frequent attribute to physical touch, tickling your ears and playing with them. it doesn't bother you, actually: adoring the affection exuded by you and him. you feel like a little girl dealing with your one and only love.

"it's beautiful, how can you blame me? and hey, i know mine's making you grin too." he holds your arm, shivers running down your spine, the two of you being euphoric in the midst of your own enthusiasm.

"putting me against the wall? okay, hum… what were you saying before?" he's changing the subject and you have a natural wit to boo him. lifting his shoulders as a surrender, the hungarian focuses on the specific loose strands of his simple bracelet, which you get used to help him tie it again, willingly.

"trying to avoid the truth? fine! let me take care of you while i talk about my admiration towards globalization and communication. like, with every fiber of me…" you accept the conversation's direction and utter a 'voilà' towards the accessory's new appearance.

"that's why you're the best person i've ever seen doing this job." dominik compliments you, an act full of honesty.

"thanks a lot, mate. but which job? as your bracelet helper or my real one?" you provide tenderness, looking amused.

"i mean… both of them." szoboszlai chuckles, revealing courtesy by your continuous helpfulness.

"literally? because i know you know a lot of people. you're so young and already is the national team's captain." you nudge him in a form of tease. he's a starboy, it's undeniable.

"flattered! literally, thought. you were born for this, believe me." vulnerability collides to you, as his words are deliberated: emotions embracing you and warming your insides.

"dominik szoboszlai, my dear friend, you're gonna make me cry, right here. i'm sorry, i need to do it…"

innocent satisfaction builds strength over you and executes unthought-of approach to the tangibility of your gratitude — his colony enrapturing your sensitive olfaction — in the most out-of-control way. the sounds reach your hearing: a choir of angels singing hallelujah. he reciprocates the contact, laughing at your juvenile excitement. joining him and doing the same thing, harmonizing the triumph. in the separation of the touch, you both remain close to each other and the hungarian doesn't miss the opportunity to feel the softness of your side face, caressing the skin. appreciation and satisfaction invade your structure, delighting on the palm of his hand.

"just a dear friend? why are we pretending all this time?" dominik's reading you. the intimidation at the sight of him overhanging you is paralyzing. you don't usually back down, but in that instant — superior than your most repressed desires — your gasps are escaped.

"who is putting who against the wall now?" insisting and failing on your witty answers, shyness and uncertainty corrodes you.

"please, look at me! i'm not kidding anymore." his voice is questioning, intrigued — contradictorily vulnerable and calm — your rationality being fragmented, fragile.

"you know i'm not the kind of woman you're surrounding by, domi. i'm not an influencer, bikini model. i'm not a public figure. i don't live for the cameras and gossip platforms. i live to work hard. i didn't achieve any of this with some type of perk. my routine and your routine are based on traveling..." who could deny it? szoboszlai's always been all that you see. it's much more than a mere passion. your attraction to him is magnetic, intense, vivid. consequently, terrifying.

"i'm just asking for a chance, (your nickname). i don't lie when i say i've never met someone like you. i may be surrounded by a crowd and you'll still be the one to steal my attention, because nobody compares to you."

your eyelids are closed and the exhalation of his sigh penetrates your lungs with the numbing breath of life you've never experienced before. it's happening: the rare situation where thinking carefully about the pros and cons is unworthy, dumbness. your decision is made and the privilege's resolution unify your lips. the beginning demonstrates slowness and patience — the intensification through the concluded wait of the longed-for reality, transforming light and magical kisses into open mouths discovering each other and witnessing the endearment that both offer — hairs, necks, shoulders and waists captured.

"you're the first to create a meaningful presence in my mind and heart. i want you to be the last one too. i love you, kincs (my treasure). i'm finally brave enough to demonstrate it with no fears." dominik's forearm covers your upper torso. your back against his chest, noses resting on each others. rejoicing at the miraculous, incomparable circumstance.

"i love you, drágám (my precious). you're finally mine and it was so fucking worth waiting." his whisper: the living proof of celestial existence.

"how blessed we are…" intertwined bodies, coalesced essences. solitary melodies turning into the sweetest and most complete symphony.

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screwpinecaprice · 4 months ago

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Would connverse kid(s) be given any sword training or self-defense (despite era-3 being more peaceful)?

Sorry in advance, I could not English right now. Hope I'm understandable at least. 😅

With my connverse kids, Ebony would be very interested in Gem stuff and going around different places and planets. Apart from hostile environments, there are still rouge and corrupted gems out there though. Best to know combat.

Rohini really likes swordfighting, but she mainly have used it to compete athletically. Sometimes it's useful when she tags along Ebony.

/Sakura/* saw her older siblings their swords, and she just thinks fencing is fancy. 🤷‍♀️ Whether she'll get over it or not, I don't know yet. Haha

/Zachary/* would not be interested with swordfighting at all.

*Sorry, STILL don't know what to officially name the twins. 😅

Also, can I use Steven's healing ability as an excuse for him and Connie still looking younger than their age and hide my inability to depict age? 🥺

#connverse #ask #SC answers #magic713m #connverse kid #Ebony OC #Rohini OC #Sakura OC #Zachary OC #Connie Maheswaran #Steven Quartz Universe #SU #Steven Universe #😓😓😓 I seriously have trouble focusing today. Hope I conveyed my words properly #my shiz #Gold TL #Anyway I gave a little redesign from the last time I drew Rohini. I gave this kid Connie's early EARLY concept design. Lmao #Well used it as heavy inspiration for the hair to be exact #/Zachary's/ design is subject to changes. I still have yet to finalize how his hair look.#'anime pose' is not exactly the word I was looking for but it's close enough #Nooo I made the exact excuse years before for not being able to make Connie and Steven look as old as they should #be 😭 I have no character development #skedoobles #Ohhh my gosh I remembered Zachary's going to grow up a sassy boio.😆😅 Maybe I just turn down the sass instead of retconning that.#Probably should have connverse kid tag for my own kids. for organization.#muh connverse kid

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ancientroyalblood · 2 months ago

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Running Drills for Better Speed and Agility

Running speed and agility are fundamental skills for athletes in various sports and fitness enthusiasts aiming to improve their overall performance. Incorporating specialized drills into your routine not only enhances these abilities but also boosts coordination, balance, and endurance. This guide explores essential running drills that can elevate your speed and agility to the next level. Why…

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she-is-ovarit · 1 year ago

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I'm over the term "gender equality", and the way in which it is being used and advocated for by the mainstream, status-quo left.

"Men and women are equal" operates under the bias that men are the default standard of equality, which women are then sometimes required or expected to meet. Usually statements like "women are just as strong as men", "women are just as capable as men in sports" act as support.

It intentionally is meant to be cheered on as liberating, but the reality is it's a derivative of "I don't see race I just see people", "no race but the human race", "not disabled just differently-abled", etc. It's a form of sexism that ignores sexism. It's "I am going to ignore biological differences based on sex" when the reality is being of the female sex shapes both my material and lived reality in extremely complex ways and can have dangerous consequences when ignored.

The average woman is not is strong as a man and it often takes a deliberate amount of persistence, training, and/or testosterone injections for us to come close to or meet the male default. "The muscle strength of women indeed, is typically reported in the range of 40 to 75% of that of men". The average man could easily kill and overpower me, and if I were an athlete a man who trained equally to me would defeat me in competition.

Women are 47% more likely than men to be injured in a car accident. Cars were designed for male drivers. In 2011 was when "female" crash dummies were introduced into measuring car safety in the US, however sometimes organizations in the US and UK just used "scaled down male dummies" to test car safety for women. As this article explains, we are not scaled-down men. We have different muscle mass distribution. We have lower bone density. There are differences in vertebrae spacing. Even our body sway is different. And these differences are all crucial when it comes to injury rates in car crashes. And what about pregnant women?

We have different needs and different experiences than males and the world around is us designed with males in mind - from housing to automobiles, to entire economic systems. 85% of women will eventually be mothers. When women take maternal leave to care for a newborn while the man continues to work (or returns shortly later), he effectively advances his career and over time earns more promotions and pay. His schedule is to focus on his career growth and then come home for a few hours in the evening to play with their child (or play videogames). Mothers pay a significant wage penalty for having children from being months out of the labor market.

This list could really go on.

"Gender equality" is utilized by men to distract women from focusing on only women's rights and needs to men's rights and needs. It's used to shoehorn in arguments of "men too" and sympathizing with men on "men's mental health" (while neglecting the fact that men are overwhelmingly and in shocking numbers responsible for violence done to both sexes - and are additionally unlikely to want to work on themselves mentally).

Reframing and enfolding "violence against women", "women's rights", "male violence", "female liberation", and "women's oppression" into the vague language of "gender equality" is a deliberate act of obfuscating the power dynamics between the sexes - in which men globally exploit and oppress women on the axis of sex.

And as vague language, carves a place for people to have the opportunity to shift the responsibility and blame onto women and girls for the suffering that men wield onto their own sex.

Women and girls do have advantages and strengths over men and boys due to our biological differences - yet this, too, goes ignored under the vague concept of "gender equality" and the cultural belief system it evokes, which treats man as the mold that women should fit.

#gender equality #gender #feminism #radical feminism #gender critical feminism #female liberation #women's rights #women's oppression #misogyny #intersectional feminism

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