#almost fell off the elliptical

[munson-blurbs]

You’ve heard of Johnny Storm; now get ready for

[prismaticpichu]

Baby Seph fic sneak peek! Might be a busy week ahead so prolly won’t be finished for a bit, but glad to have bit into it this weekend!

:3c

~

There was an almost... beautiful glint to it.

Like obsidian, maybe. Sleek and lustrous. Black and alluring. Glassy, too, like a mirror. He watched as his own slitted eyes peered back at him through its reflection.

"Why don't you put it on, my boy? It's for you."

The Professor's smile also seemed to glint. Much differently, though, with a different kind of light. A much different gleam. He held the elliptical object out for him to take, the throbbing glares from the bulbs above winking off His teeth like stones in muddied water.

"What... is it?" the boy asked quietly, just vaguely lifting his chin to face the looming man. The thing, it looked to be some kind of... necklace, but thicker somehow. Much. It didn't look like something you would actually wear--let alone for show or beauty like some of the nurses seemed to flaunt.

But then again, there was his name written across the front, carefully embedded with shiny silver letters that also seemed to glint.

"A gift," was all the Professor said, and His smile widened. Brightened. "Put it on, boy. Around your neck."

He waited a beat.

"Now, boy." His smile was blinding. "Put it on. It's yours, after all."

...His?

He gazed again at his name, at the gleaming silver letters and how they seemed to wink at him. He didn't have many things that were his. Maybe his name... maybe that was his. Maybe. He couldn't think of much else, though.

So, slowly, he took the gift from the Professor's hands, felt the calloused skin brush against his own as he brought the item into his grip.

It was cold.

"Attaboy," the Professor’s smiled dimmed, just a bit. "It should fit you nicely. Put it on."

It was cold; he didn't want to put it around his neck. But the Professor said so. And it was a gift. It was his. He didn't have many things that were his.

So, slowly, he slipped it over his head, letting the cold material ring around his throat. It felt heavy. But it was a gift. It was his. And he didn't have many things that were his.

The Professor looked pleased, the smile still lingering, still bright, an approving nod and hum as his hands fell back to his sides.

"Do you like it, my boy?" The Professor smiled brightly.

He gazed at the floor for a moment, at the Professor's shoes, at his own boots, contemplating an appropriate response. He didn't really like it. It was cold and heavy. But it was also a gift. It was his. And he didn't have many things that were his.

"It's... nice," he mumbled, even though it was cold and heavy and he didn't really know what it was. "Thank you, Pr'fessor."

He felt the Professor's smile on the back of his neck. It almost burned.

"You're most welcome, my boy. I think you'll find this test to be quite beneficial."

The word came too slow. Or maybe he was too slow. Maybe it was his fault. Maybe he should have seen it coming. Maybe he should have seen that the Professor had a remote in his hand. Maybe he should have realized that he was standing by the monitors. Maybe he should have realized he was standing in the middle of the lab. Maybe he should have realized he was not dressed in his usual leather attire. Maybe he should have realized there was no such thing as a gift for him. Maybe he should have been smarter. Maybe he should have been stronger.

Sephiroth snapped his head up, thunder clapping in the eight year-old's heart.

"Test?"

And lightning struck.

[rakuya-nikki]

A Walk to the Park - Entry #8

I've been telling myself to go for a walk around town for so long now. After my workout today, I finally had the energy and motivation to force myself to do that. It was a little over an hour of walking, over 3 miles! I was shocked to learn how many calories that meant I burnt. Almost 500, if that one calculator is anything to go off of.

Even if I don't go for big walks like that every day, which I probably won't, I really should do some form of workout almost every day. I used to, but fell off the grind at some point. Maybe it was around this time last year? I don't remember why, maybe complacency, maybe thinking that I could just focus on resistance training and dieting. Which isn't wrong, really, but clearly I like to eat things, and I like food, so I don't think I'll ever be able to have a diet that's good enough to solo carry a weight loss routine. I don't wanna give up food and good eatin', so I'm gonna need to keep working out. Not to mention, working out is just... good. For a lot of reasons.

Some of the sights were nice. Any body of water is enough to refresh my spirit, and the weather was warm but not too warm. It was all very nice.

For my way to the park, I took the usual path I do when I drive there. I probably won't do that again, because on foot, you really start to realize how white trash that street is. Some folks were sitting outside their house, and their dog was ferocious, howling and snapping in my direction. The leash only barely kept it away from me. My mind could only imagine what would happen if, somehow, it managed to get loose. Fucking trash. I get that everyone's got their circumstances, but it bugs me to no end when people just let their animals act like that.

Anyways, that was why I took a roundabout way back home — to try and find a new route whenever I wanted to go to the park. I've got a good idea of that now. It adds more miles to the overall journey, but I guess that's the point of it, in the end.

I hope I can maintain a sense of motivation. I've been finding myself really tired these past few months. Physically and mentally. I'm trying to find a way to beat it out. Maybe it's less that the fatigue is making me stop my routine, and rather, me stopping my routines is what caused the fatigue? I'm not sure, though.

For the time being, any days where I feel like I don't have the energy for walking or anything, I could at the very least do some stretches at home. Maybe run on the elliptical for around 20 minutes, like I used to do.

It's hard to think about right now. I have a bad habit of projecting my current energy levels into my mental planning. Right now, I'm tired, so when I think of going for walks or having a routine or any of that, I'm projecting that tired feeling onto those plans, and it gives me some anxiety. Like, "I'm too tired to do that stuff right now", even though these are plans, not things for "right now". Perhaps the mere act of planning things, and trying to... steel my will, is what's making me feel even more tired? I'm not sure. Guess we'll just see what happens!

It was a fun walk regardless :)

[itsbenedict]

get star seeker sequel adventure thing up and running and through the first case

get datasouls combat toy complete up to the first miniboss combat

catch up on TFJ recap logs

become an accredited AWS Certified Solutions Architect and get that raise my boss has been talking about for ages

get an adjustable standing desk and under-desk elliptical thingy, and otherwise get an ergonomic workstation set up

fix the light situation in the bathroom

get through The Sekimeiya and really go to town on that mystery until it’s solved

also finally play Disco Elysium

finish TFTBN character portraits

get a beatrice portrait for my poster wall

run some TPIVW games

badger the condo association landlady until she does something about the junk clogging up that basement storage room i’m supposed to own, and clean unused bulky stuff out of my house

clearly this waitlist thing isn’t working out so take some steps to see an actual doctor for the first time in like three years (and maybe get a cancer screening, or do something about that closed sinus)

get through the remaining 7 WaniKani levels

August! August was awkward! I thought I was going to lose a lot of time to Trails into Reverie, and so took on a less demanding task deliberately- but I ended up primarily distracted by Pikmin 4 and Master Detective Archives: Rain Code and An Odyssey to the Castle of Vampires, instead. Those latter two are both gonna stick in my head and I need to post about them separately, god damn.

Anyway, as far as clearing out the condo goes- the unit's all set for me to use, and I cleared out my moving bins and that extra bike I don't need or use which my aunt insisted I take, and I figured out a solution for organizing and storing clothes that actually works instead of getting neglected for being too inconvenient. Got new sheets for the beds, got a vacuum and cleaned house... I haven't gotten rid of the old elliptical yet because apparently nobody on craigslist wants an elliptical with no power cord, even for free. Not sure how I'm going to get rid of this thing short of calling a junk disposal service... maybe I can order a replacement power cord online, and then sell it in good condition?

Justice/Arcana kind of fell by the wayside- I spent a couple weeks on this big huge update, and then got kind of paralyzed on how to proceed from there and put it off because it was tough to fit in with other competing priorities. Work got crazy this month, with a huge corporate reorg that involved me taking on a bunch of new responsibilities and handing off some old ones that realistically shouldn't be handed off and are going to be a pain in the neck when I inevitably have to consult on them. I need to get back on the horse with that- and on my remaining kanji reviews, which have piled up to the tune of... almost 200 of them, yeesh.

As for September... I'm taking a full two weeks off for the second half of the month, since I haven't actually had a week off yet this entire year. Since I'm going to have a good long chunk of free time, I'm going to use that to try to meet that milestone for the Datasouls combat toy, which I haven't really touched all year. I also want to properly get J/A moving into the final part of the case- I plan to commit to at least 10 full updates for September, so I don't get stuck in the trap of expecting vague "progress" and never having a quantifiable goal to hold myself to.

[weshallflyaway]

I have started watching Lovely Runner as my keep me on the gym equipment show and I cackled at it so hard I almost fell off the elliptical machine.

[planetarytrinkets]

Went to the gym today, Im going to hopefully get a membership tomorrow :P

The place is honestly so cool, it has a lot of things to do and my first time going to a public gym so ahhh.

I did cardio ( Wow so cooool) 30 minutes on the treadmill, almost fell off the stair thing, 20 on an elliptical, and another 30 on like a squidward bike. I dunno thats how it felt, while I rewatched What We Do In The Shadows ho ho ho.

Im in a silly goofy mood don’t mind me.

[rustasche]

This game was so sexy I almost fell off the elliptical at the gym

[evilasiangenius]

From his distinctly upside-down seat upon the far end of the couch, which was of course covered with blankets as Aziraphale hated him putting his feet upon it even if the shoes were infernally willed and not likely to be dirty, Crowley slipped in and out of pleasant unconsciousness.

The back room of the bookshop echoed with a flurry of sound, a clicking and clattering of a computer keyboard being used at an almost improbable high speed, and Crowley wondered how often Aziraphale had to replace that piece of equipment, unless of course it was miraculously reinforced or more likely, the angel had no idea that such hard use could wear it out and neither did the keyboard.

He wondered what the angel was doing – was it a game, perhaps? It seemed that Aziraphale liked those sometimes, ones made up completely of words and actions that had to be typed in that scrolled past the screen at blazing speed. Or perhaps it was a conversation with someone far away, something on elliptic curve cryptography or analytic number theory or algebraic topology – the angel always had more than a few mathematicians up his sleeve. But most likely, Crowley concluded, getting up from the couch in an awkward fumble of angular limbs to stand and lean against the doorway, looking over at Aziraphale in his little reading glasses, it was something involving accounting.

Hardly maths at all, he imagined Aziraphale saying. Barely counts as calculation.

He watched, waiting quietly for the angel to stop, not wanting to interrupt.

The keyboard fell silent. The angel stared unmoving at the black screen, green cursor blinking, fingertips still lightly touching the keyboard as if a musician waiting for the cue.

Even so, Crowley waited for the duration of a song, one with no words and no notes he could think of, just the sensation of a song.

“Angel.” The word was somewhere between a sigh and a yawn, and Aziraphale looked up from the computer.

“Yes?”

“Done?”

“Almost. No. Yes, no. I’m done.” Aziraphale turned off the computer, slipping off his glasses and setting them down before he turned to face Crowley and Crowley found that oddly disappointing.

“Everything reconciled?”

“No. Not everything. But in regards to the bookstore, yes. As much as possible has been reconciled. How did you guess it was the accounts?”

“Accounting face. That’s different from maths face. Or game face or any number of other faces.”

“You know me too well,” Aziraphale demurred with the hint of a little smile.

“Eh,” Crowley managed a syllable that was meant to sum everything up. “So, erm.”

“Dinner?”

“Dinner.” But then Crowley looked at his watch. “Wait, it’s afternoon. Sometime past lunch, if you must know.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale sighed. “I suppose we’ll have missed the lunch service.”

“Yeah.”

“Afternoon tea?”

“Nah. I mean, unless you really would want tea-”

“What are you in the mood for, Crowley?”

“No, it’s fine. You can ask...erm, properly. Going to...try to practice. You know,” Crowley looked away, uncomfortable. “Um. Having preferences?”

“Oh, I see. Then, I suppose if you don’t mind me asking… Crowley, what would you like to do?” Aziraphale’s eyes sparkled.

“Erm...soup? Can we have soup?”

day21:dancing

day22:song

[waitimcomingtoo]

Touch - p.p

chapter one - an encounter 

synopsis: you love him, but you can never touch him

“Spiderling, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

Peter turned around at the sound of Tony’s voice, eyes widening in surprise when he saw you for the first time, perched at Tony’s side.

“Hi. I’m Peter.” Peter introduced himself as he reached out his hand.

“Y/n.” You said as you shook his hand, automatically taking his pain. “Oo, shoulder pain.”

“How did you do that?” Peter gasped as he touched his fixed shoulder. “My shoulders been killing me.”

“I took your pain. Damn, you were really hurting huh?” You chuckled as you shook out your arm.

“Yeah. It’s been messed up for weeks.” Peter laughed as he rolled his shoulder. “Thanks.”

“Isn’t she amazing? She’s my newest recruit.” Tony explained. “Welcome to the Avengers, Icy Hot. You’ll fit right in.”

“I hope so.” You smiled nervously. “I appreciate the opportunity, sir. I won’t let you down.”

“Hear that Peter? She calls me sir.” Tony pointed to you proudly. “Brownie points for manners.”

Peter smiled at you and you smiled back, already taking an interest in each other.

“Thank you, sir.” You chuckled again, eyeing Peter every now and then as he did the same to you.

“Come on. I’ll show you the rest of the team.” Tony offered as he put his hand on the small of your back.

“Okay. It was nice meeting you Peter.” You waved at him as you passed him in the hallway.

“You too.” Peter waved back, a smile staying on his face long after you left.

~

You saw Peter in the gym the next day, sweating through his shirt as he threw punches at the heavy bag. You smiled at him as you climbed on the elliptical, sweating through your sports bra soon enough.

“Damn it.” Peter suddenly hissed as he pulled off his boxing glove.

“You okay?” You stopped your movement at the elliptical.

“Punched the bag too hard.” Peter sighed as he shook his throbbing hand. “I busted my knuckles.”

You climbed off the elliptical and approached Peter, your chest rising and falling as you caught your breath. Peter’s face blushed slightly as you came close enough for him to see the sweat beads rolling down your neck.

“Can I see?” You asked softly as you held out your hands. Peter nodded slightly and placed his hand into yours. Your held his hand firmly and closed your eyes as the process began. Peter saw your veins darken as the pain left his body. You winced a little as his cut healed right before his eyes.

“Does that hurt you?” Peter asked as he looked at you.

“Yeah, but not that much.” You answered. “I heal really fast so it’s just a watered down version of whatever pain I take.”

“Thats really cool.” Peter smiled softly. “You’re gonna be great for our team.”

“You think?” You lit up. “I feel so lame compared to you guys. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to keep up.”

“Healing people isn’t lame.” Peter assured you. “You’ll totally keep up.”

“Says the boy who can lift busses.” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Did you google me?” Peter pretended to gasp as he was secretly flattered.

“Maybe.” You said coyly. “I thought it was really admirable how you helped that old lady cross the street.”

“Which one?” Peter joked. “That’s my specialty.”

“You wanna know what my specialty is?” You stepped a little closer to him.

“What?” Peter asked, his entire body flushed from your close proximity.

“I can take a bruised peach and make it fresh. Mr. Stark has me do it every day. I used to blow all the kids minds at lunch.” You rubbed your nails on your shoulder like you were bragging.

“Thats really amazing. How have you not won a Nobel Peace Prize yet?” Peter teased you.

“I keep getting nominated but I’m always snubbed.” You sighed dramatically.

“Well peaches, I think you’re gonna keep up with this team just fine.” Peter smirked. “We could all use a little healing.”

“I’m glad I could be of service to you.” You stepped even closer, chests almost touching. Peter’s breath fanned your face for a moment, but before he could even close his eyes, you pulled away.

“I ,uh, I gotta go.” You stepped back from him and blinked a few times to regain your composure. “See you around.”

You swiftly left the gym, leaving Peter in a cloud of confusion as you went.

~

“Hey.” You walked into the kitchen and sniffed the air. “Are you baking?”

“Trying to. I think I forgot the eggs. And the milk.” Peter realized as he stared into his dry mixture. After a month of living in the tower, you’d gotten used to Peter’s failed attempts at baking.

You’d also gotten used to Peter.

“What are you making?” You came over his shoulder and peered in his bowl. Peter’s face flushed as he became hyperaware of how close you were. Close, but not touching.

“Muffins. Do they look okay to you?” Peter asked as he looked over his shoulder at you.

“Um, do you want a real answer or a nice answer?” You grimaced as you looked in the bowl again and saw his lumpy mixture.

“Damn it. Why is this so hard?” Peter whined. “Let me see if my first batch is ready.”

Peter went to the oven and opened it up, instinctively reaching in and grabbing the muffin tin.

“Ouch!” He yanked his hand back and held it to his chest, squirming in pain.

“Peter! You can’t grab things directly out of the oven.” You exclaimed as you rushed towards him.

“I know.” He sighed as he shook his burning finger. “But I wasn’t wearing oven mitts when I put it in so I forget to wear them when I take it out.”

“Come here.” You immediately closed your hands around his burnt hand and began to take his pain.

“Won’t it hurt you?” Peter tried to pull away but you held him in place.

“I’ll be okay.” You chuckled as you continued to take his pain. Peter sighed in relief as you winced from the feeling.

“Better?” You asked once you had finished, following your words with a kind squeeze of his hands.

“Better.” He nodded. “Thanks peaches.”

“I got you.” You flirted, looking at him through your eyelashes.

“Do you?” Peter took a step closer to you, bringing his free hand up to enclose around your hand. You gulped nervously and closed your eyes for a moment before stepping back. Peter immediately felt the loss of warmth and felt disappointment sink into his stomach.

“I’ll get the muffins out.” You stammered as you went to get an oven mitt out of the drawer. “Don’t want them to burn.”

“Okay.” Peter nodded as he leaned against the counter, barely listening because of how disappointed he felt. “Okay.”

This was how your relationship went on. You grew closer in your friendship, but never in your distance. Every time Peter thought you were about to touch, you made an excuse to pull away. Although he was used to it, it still hurt him every time.

“Hey Aquaman.” You greeted Peter as you approached the pool one day. “Mind if I join you?”

“By all means.” Peter nodded. “As long as you don’t pee in the pool.”

You could tell from his face that he immediately regretted what he said, his regret making you laugh.

“Are you proud that you said that?” You teased him as you untied your robe and dropped it to the floor. Peter’s face heated up at the sight of you in your black bathing suit as he quickly adverted his eyes.

“I can’t say I am.” He said as he pretended to be interested in something far away.

“Don’t worry about it. I say dumb things all the time.” You told him as you took out a bottle of sunscreen. You began to run in into your skin, missing your back almost entirely.

“You need some help?” Peter offered, noticing your struggle.

“I’m good.” You said, a little quickly. “Just keep the water warm for me, all right?”

“Was that another pee joke?” Peter whined, knowing he was never going to live that down

“It wasn’t intended to be.” You laughed as you stood by the edge of the pool. “I’m coming in. Is it cold?”

“No, because I just peed.” Peter said simply, making you laugh again.

“Peter.” You whined as you dipped your toe in. “No more pee jokes.”

“I’m sorry, peaches, but you made it so easy.” He defended himself.

“I’m scared.” You quickly took your toe out and rubbed your arms.

“Why? It’s just water.”

“Cold water.” You reminded him.

“Just jump in.”

“But I’ll splash you.” You worried.

“I think I’ll live.” Peter chuckled. You looked at the water one more time before jumping in, a small wave spraying Peter as you did.

“Did I get you wet?” You asked as you came to the surface right in front of Peter. It took Peter a minute to process what you said, as he was too focused on how pretty you looked with water droplets in your eyelashes.

“I’m in a pool.” He reminded you. “I was already wet.”

“Well did I splash you?” You rolled your eyes at him.

“I don’t know. Does a splash feel like this?” Peter asked innocently as he splashed you in the face.

“My hair!” You gasped as the wave hit you.

“Aw. Did you get your hair wet while submerged in water? How did that possible happen?” Peter asked sarcastically as he splashed you again.

“Oh, you got jokes? Well now you’re gonna have water damage.” You smiled deviously as you splashed him.

“Hey. No splashing.” He said, knowing how ironic it was since he did it twice.

“Fine. Then I’ll just drown you.” You said simply as you grabbed his shoulders and tried to force him under the water. As you touched him, you felt the scrape he had on his elbow transfer to you.

“Not if I drown you first.” Peter Parker warned as he grabbed your by the waist. He lifted you up as you squirmed in his arms.

“Peter. Put me down.” You laughed as you tried to break out of his grasp.

“As you wish, peaches.” He said before throwing you into the water.

“You’re gonna get it now.” You threatened as you swam back towards him. You began to wrestle in a way, your hands intertwined as you tried to overpower each other. Peter could overpower you easily, and he knew this, but he held back so you’d think it was a fair fight. He let go suddenly and you fell forward, wrapping your arms around his neck as he caught you. You stared at each other for a moment, breathily heavily as he tightened his grip on your waist.

“What am I gonna get?” Peter asked through labored breaths. Your eyes flicked to his lips before going back to his eyes as a wicked smile tugged at your lips.

“Water in your ear.” You answered as you jumped back from him. As soon as you let go, you splashed him again before swimming away.

“You did it.” Peter laughed sadly as he wiped the water from his eyes. “You got me.”

~

“Incoming!” Peter exclaimed as he swung into the alleyway, kicking the robber you’d been chasing in the chest at full speed.

“Oh no.” The man grunted as he got up from the floor. “It’s that one guy.”

“Is it though?” Peter tilted his head to the side. As if on cue, you dropped down on the other side of the robber and waved.

“Hey!” You chirped. “How’s it going?”

Before he could answer, you kicked his wrist, making him drop his backpack full of the stolen money.

“Oops! My bad!” You feigned a sad face.

“I’ll take that.” Peter shot a web at the bag and pulled it towards himself.

“You bitch!” The man exclaimed as he held he wrist.

“Hey!” Peter shouted. “That’s now how you talk to women.”

Peter kicked the man towards you and you caught him, quickly squeezing his shoulders and sending all the pain in your body into the man. The man groaned in pain as Peter shot a web at the mans gun.

“Let me get this off your hands.” Peter said as he pulled the gun out of the mans hand. The man made an angry face at Peter, who kept himself from laughing.

“Woah, fine. You can have it back.” Peter let go of the web and the gun came flying back, smacking the robber in the face and knocking him out.

“I genuinely didn’t mean to do that.” Peter gulped as the man fell to the floor.

“Nice work.” You laughed as you stepped over the limp body. “Let’s move.”

Peter webbed up the robber and threw him over his shoulder as you collected the bag and the gun. You walked back towards the bank, where you found police at the scene.

“Here you go.” You smiled sweetly as you handed a cop the items. “Hope you boys had a nice night.”

Peter turned the robber over to the police, smiling a little at what you said.

“Don’t tease the police men, peaches.” He whispered in your ear as you walked back towards the tower. “It’s not their fault they’re lame.”

You laughed at his joke and felt your hand brush against his. The bumped into each other one more time before you pulled your hand away and pretended to scratch your head.

“Um, do you want to watch a movie when we get back?” You suggested to distract from the awkwardness of the near hand holding. “I’m cool with watching the nerd shit you like.”

“Yeah, sure.” Peter nodded, disappointed once again. “And it’s not nerd shit. It’s science fiction.”

“We are saying the same words.” You teased, keeping your hands busy so the couldn’t touch his.

“Hey, I don’t rip on you when you watch those little romantic comedies.” Peter retorted.

“I’ll say it again, if you gave 13 Going On 30 a chance-“

“I know, I know.” He rolled your eyes. “I’d love it and I’d be a better person for watching it. You tell me all the time.”

“Because it’s true!” You exclaimed. “And you still refuse to watch it.”

“How about we watch it tonight, peaches?” Peter suggested as he rubbed your arm. “Maybe I’d like it better if you watched it with me.”

“Okay.” You smiled as you stepped away from his touch. “It’s a date.”

Peter nodded as he felt confusion sink in. Your words and actions always said entirely different things.

“I’ll meet you in the theater at 10. I think we both could use a shower.” Peter changed the subject before he could think too deeply into it.

“Why don’t you just meet me in the shower then?” You shrugged as you looked at him. Peter immediately stopped walking and turned bright red under his mask.

“What?” He squeaked.

“I’m kidding. God, you’re such a pervert.” You said playfully as you winked at him.

“What a tease.” Peter clicked his tongue as he shook his head.

“You know it.” You chuckled. “See you at 10.”

~later~

“Hey. Popcorn?” You held up a bowl of popcorn as you slid next to Peter on the couch.

“You think of everything.” He smiled gratefully at you as he took a few pieces.

“Just like how you thought about me in the shower.” You said casually as you popped some pieces in your mouth.

“I did not.” Peter insisted as he stole more popcorn.

“No, yeah, I believe you.” You smirked a little, layering on the sarcasm.

“Stop it. You’re mean.” Peter pouted as he rested his head on your shoulder. You tensed you for a moment as you felt the wear and tear from his day leave his body and go into yours. You had to admit, the contact was nice, but you knew it couldn’t last.

“Excuse me. I’m not a pillow.” You joked as you moved your shoulder out from under him. He picked his head up as he took your hint, feeling a familiar sadness settle into his bones with your rejection. He cut his losses and picked up the remote, pretending to take total interest in the TV to distract himself from his emotions.

“So uh, Star Wars?” He asked with a weak voice.

“Star Wars.” You nodded, pretending not to notice the forlorn look on his face.

An hour or so into the movie, Peter noticed you trying to keep yourself awake. Your head would droop occasionally as your eyelids grew heavy. Every time your head almost fell on Peters shoulder, you quickly caught yourself and sat up.

“What’s wrong with you?” Peter asked after the fourth time your head almost touched him.

“What do you mean?” You looked at him curiously.

“You don’t have to sit up that straight of you’re tired.” He said softly. “You can lean into me, you know. I don’t bite.”

“I’m good.” You told him. “I don’t want to smother you.”

“You won’t smother me.” He laughed gently as he gazed at you.

“I’m okay.” You repeated, keeping your eyes ahead.

“Okay.” Peter didn’t want to push you. He turned his gaze back to the movie, but he couldn’t focus at all. It was another day of being left in the dark about how you felt, and it was starting to weigh him down. He shot one more look at you before watching the rest of the movie in silence.

You, Peter, and Bucky sat in the kitchen the following morning, zero conversation between the three of you. Peter’s ego was still bruised from the night before, so he wasn’t particularly thrilled about speaking to you. He knew it was dumb to hold a grudge, but he was hurting. To make himself look busy, he focused on chopping up vegetables so he didn’t have to look at you.

You were too concerned with the soft winces and sighs that were coming from Bucky to realize Peter was ignoring you. By the fourth time Bucky sighed, you opened your mouth.

“You okay?” You asked as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“I’m fine.” He grumbled. “Just some Phantom limb pain.”

“Mind if I…” You held up your hand to ask silently. Bucky looked at your hand hesitantly before nodded. You rested your hand on his residual limb and shut your eyes, slowly taking his pain. He cracked the faintest hint of a smile as the pain left his body, all of this taking place under Peter’s watchful eye.

“Thanks.” He said stiffly once you withdrew your hand.

“Anytime.” You smiled at him. He nodded at you before leaving the kitchen altogether. Once he was gone, Peter continued chopping the vegetables.

“That was nice of you. Are you guys close?” Peter asked without looking up.

“Not really.” You shrugged. “I take his pain sometimes when he comes to me for help.

“Hm.” Peter’s lips folded in a tight line as he continued chopping.

“What?” You scoffed a little at his strange reaction.

“He never asks people for help, much less for comfort. He must really like you.” Peter shrugged bitterly and he began to chop faster.

“Really?” You smiled a little. “You think Bucky likes me?”

“Do you want him to like you?” Peter asked quietly, finding himself in a worse mood than when the conversation started.

“I don’t know. I guess it would just be kinda cool, you know?” You laughed as you rubbed your arms. “I’m not the one people usually crush on.”

The was the final straw for Peter, his anger making him drop the knife with a loud clang.

“Maybe because you don’t let anyone in.” He snapped, causing you to jump.

“Excuse me?” You furrowed your eyebrows at his sudden outburst.

“How come you never let me touch you unless you’re healing me?” He asked, voice shaking as his emotions boiled to the surface.

“What?” You blinked a few times in surprise as you realized Peter was aware of how you distanced yourself from him. You always thought your blockades and barriers went over his head, and the fact that he knew you were doing it plagued you with guilt.

“You’re always right there.” Peter shook his head as he walked over to you. “We hover and dance around each other, but we don’t touch. Why do we do that? Why don’t we make contact?”

Peter was right in front of you now, close enough that if he took a deep breath, your chests would touch.

“Because I don’t want to hurt you, Peter.” You mumbled as you adverted your eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t just take pain away.” You spoke as you looked up at him. “I can also administer it. If I wanted to, I could kill someone with just one touch. What if I lost control of my powers and hurt you? I could never live with myself.”

“You have great control of your powers.” Peter protested. When he saw that you were unconvinced, he held up a hand. “You wouldn’t hurt me, see?”

You stared at his hand for a moment, wanting more than anything to touch it. You held up your hand as well, reaching towards Peter’s before drawing back.

“All it takes is one time, Peter.” You looked at him fearfully. “I’m a walking hazard. I just want to minimize the casualties.”

“I’d risk it.” He pleaded as his fingers twitched, aching to touch you. You looked at his hand again before dropping yours to your side.

“I wouldn’t.”

~

Series Masterlist and Regular Masterlist

Tag list 🏷

@thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling @weirdr-artiest @serendipitous-amor @dummiesshort

@foreverxholland @lavender-writer​ @captainmandeestudent17​ @whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings​ @ultrunning​ @imyourliquor-youremypoison @theolwebshooter​ @andreasworlsboring101​  @waiting-to-be-myself @letsloveimagines​ @peterparkoure​ @a-villain-vying-for-attention @justcallmehitgirl​ @averyfosterthoughts​ @jackiehollanderr��   @mara-twins​ @iamaunicorn4704​ @maryjanee23​ @geeksareunique @emmamarshmellow​ @unbelievableholland​ @rebekkah4766​ @flixndchill @sovereignparker​ @thisisthebiplace​ @spideydobrik​ @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos​ @caelestii-e​ @eridanuswave​ @itscaminow​ @fiantomartell @solarxmoonchild​ @where-art-thau-romeo​ @canyouevencauseicant @illwritetomorrow​ @thehappygrungelife​ @saysomethingspiderman @parkerboop​ @smilexcaptainx​ @quaksonhehe​ @kelieah @kickingn-ames​ @babeyspidey​ @seasidecrowbar​ @lovelessdagger​ @love-sick-blues @electraheart-3174​  @unbelievableholland​ @yourtypicalhotmess @spideyanakin​ @horanxholland​ @thesuitelifeofafangirl​ @anapocalypseinmymind @marshxx​ @heyheycharlatte​ @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie @tomshufflepuff​ @cookiemonstermusic258​

@maybemona @young-romanoff​ @alexxcorona113​ @fancyxparker​ @lethal-wisdom @xo-spidey​ @im-still-tryin-to-find-it​ @big-galaxy-chaos​ @pandaxnienke @theincredibledeadlyviper​  @thestylestour​  @officialsimppage​ @mrvelscaptains @peterspideysstuff​ @reemusluupin​ @perspectiveparker​ @itsemohours @satanswitchings​ @okkulta​ @amorhollands @parkerlovebot​ @sarcasticallywitty15 @mati4188 @geminiparkers @xfirstfemale-marauderx @jungkxxkk @friendlyneighborhood-mendes @awesomebooklover17 @alwayssandy​ @whatthefuckimbisexual​

[sluttyminghao]

a different kind of workout | k.sy

w.c: 2k request: yes genre: smut pairing: soonyoung x female!reader contains: semi-public sex, dirty talk (mans gotta filthy mouth), slight nipple play, marking, oral (f.receiving), this is also very unedited i apologise a/n: this is just a pile of filth and i blame it all on kwon soonyoung and this video

When you agreed to go and do a workout at the gym with Soonyoung, you figured he would go nice and easy on you, and make you sweat maybe a little. You figured that it would be a breeze and he would show you the ropes, maybe even do some spotting for each other with the weights and just enjoy each others presence while hyping each other up in the process.

You were wrong. You were so, so very wrong.

With the time of night you both attended the gym, which was quite late in the evening after most had already gone to bed, there were no other signs of life present in the building, not even at the front desk where you signed in. As you walked behind your boyfriend, you took the time to admire his back muscles that were rippling slightly from his movements. His singlet shirt obstructed any more of your view of his delectable body, but you knew that getting to see him workout would highlight those areas you loved even more, and had your mouth watering at the thought.

You headed into the gym room, with all the equipment set up neatly and the room smelling faintly of sweat and metal. You heaved a sigh as you looked around at all of the equipment, your mind wandering off to how some of this equipment even worked. Soonyoung had already found what he was going to be doing, and made a beeline towards his favourite pieces of equipment. 

What you didn't expect, however, was when he had stopped in front of the equipment, his shirt had come off and tossed into his duffel bag, ultimately exposing his entire upper body to you and causing your eyes to almost bulge out of your skull, almost comically. He had been working on his upper body quite a lot recently when he came to the gym, which was evident in his toned abs and biceps that were growing bigger by the week. 

Your gawking didn't go amiss by Soonyoung, who only merely smirked at you with no words spoken and headed straight to the weights table. He picked up a 10kg dumbbell in each hand and began moving them up and down in a steady pace. As you continued to watch his arms move fluidly, you ogled the bulge on his arm, noting a large vein that ran through the muscle. You admired him from afar, slowly setting your own duffel bag down and heading towards the elliptical machine. 

His eyes followed you as you set yourself up on the gym apparatus, his cock twitching when you bent down and he got a nice view of the curve of your ass. As you began to move on the elliptical slowly, a smirk fell upon his lips when he noticed how your boobs bounced inside of your cropped shirt. “That top looks good on you, sweetheart, but maybe you should take it off. We don't want it to get sweaty or anything,” he spoke nonchalantly, moving his hand down so that the weights were now back on the table.

You all but stumbled over your own feet at his sudden comment, your face burning with embarrassment. Luckily he didn't seem to notice, as he had now turned his back to you and moved over towards the pull up bar. Your eyes deceived you however, as they drifted further down on his body, landing directly on his sharp v-line that didn't seem to end. You bit your lip as you watched him stretch out, his muscles contorting and you let out a small moan. God he was so hot.

Your movements on the elliptical machine slowed significantly as he jumped and let his body dangle from the bar, his back muscles even more prominent even though he was hardly doing anything. You kept your eyes trained on his back as he began to push himself up and over the bar, his muscles contracting and moving so deliciously under his skin. The lighting in the gym didn't do you any favours either, only enhancing how beautifully toned he was.

You felt your tongue swipe out across your lips, and it was only then that Soonyoung noticed you in the mirror, and he chuckled. Your trance was broken at his laugh, and it was only then you realized how wet you were, and you couldn't help but to squeeze your thighs together to alleviate some of the pressure that was beginning to build up inside of you.

He continued to notice your movements, mainly the way you were shuffling around and moving to lean against the elliptical which had now been long forgotten in your eyes. He did a few more reps on the pull up bar, before he let go and planted his feet on the ground. He whipped around quickly and took fast steps to where you were still leaning against the elliptical, with a large smirk painted on his face.

“You like what you see huh? You haven't been able to take your eyes off of me the entire time we’ve been here,” he commented, his eyes becoming lidded they grazed hungrily over your body, clad with only your crop top and some active shorts. You could hardly find the words to reply to him, your mind becoming clouded with lustful thoughts of your boyfriend.

You were snapped back to reality with Soonyoung’s fingers being pressed firmly  against your jaw, and his dark eyes boring into your own. “I expect you to answer me, sweetheart, or are you too busy thinking about me fucking you right here and now?” His voice was saccharine sweet in comparison to his filthy words, and only made you clench your thighs tighter.

All you could do was nod your head and whimper a little as his grip tightened once more on your jaw, a dark chuckle falling from his lips. “Such a needy girl you are, huh? Don’t you worry, I’m going to take care of you,” he muttered softly into your skin. Before you could say a word to him, his hands had made quick work of your crop top, pulling it over your head and throwing it on top of the elliptical machine. His hands were immediately on your breasts, fondling and caressing your nipples and the skin surrounding it.

“Soonyoung...” you finally whined out, your hands flying up to his hair and tugging on it softly. A soft hiss left his lips at the tugging, and he slammed his lips into yours, his kiss hungry and wanting. He pulled himself away from your lips seconds later, a small string of saliva connecting the two of you as he moved. When he was fully standing, he pulled your hand up so that you would stand also, his body flush against yours. He wasted no time pulling your shorts down your legs, exposing your wetness and throbbing pussy to the air and his eyes. 

He groaned at the sight of your pussy, which made him immediately bend down so that he was situated on his knees and spread your thighs apart, his tongue darting out to lick at his lips. “So beautiful, i cant wait to fuck you, but first, I need a taste of this sweet pussy of yours” he spoke against your skin, leaving light kisses on the tops of your thighs. You pushed your hand further into his hair, a louder whine escaping your lips from his teasing.

“Stop...teasing...” you whispered, your eyes scrunching shut as you felt his tongue sweep across your inner thighs, collecting the juices that had been spread across them. Without warning, his tongue poked out and licked a flat stripe up your folds, an appreciative hum coming from his mouth while a broken moan escaped yours.

“M-more please!” You managed to squeak out between his quick tongue movements, making Soonyoung chuckle and spread your legs even further apart, and he began a steady pace alternating between licking and sucking on your folds, and loving how your legs were beginning to shake from his tongue alone. 

You couldn't help but open your eyes to peek at your boyfriend between your legs, his platinum blond mop of hair the only thing you could see until he looked up at you briefly with a cheeky grin. His chin was covered in your juices, and you felt your face burn up out of sheer embarrassment, before you were shoving his head back down between your thighs so that you could reach your high.

“You taste so fucking good, sweetheart, maybe you taste even sweeter because we might get caught here?” He spoke briefly, his tongue dipping to poke at your entrance. You yelped at his action, and a lewd moan left your lips when he repeated the action over and over, the familiar tension in your abdomen from your incoming orgasm building up inside of you.

He chuckled at how needy you had become in such a short span of time, before he was removing his tongue from you and wiping his hand over his lips, sucking up the excess juices. You whined in annoyance and felt your entrance clenching around nothing, but you didn't have time to complain to him when you felt his erection prod at your entrance.

“You’re such a needy little slut, only want my cock huh? You can’t even go a few hours without it, we’re having sex in a fucking gym because you can't stop ogling at my body,” he spoke through gritted teeth, pushing himself inside of your tight entrance. Your fingers clawed at his lean shoulders, a lascivious moan escaping your lips at the feeling.

His filthy words bounced around in your mind constantly, alongside his quick thrusts that made your eyes roll back in your head. The adrenaline was pumping through both of you in high amounts, at the thought of possibly being caught and how you were doing it in such a public and open space. Soonyoung’s thrusts began to pick up speed once more, his moans becoming louder the closer he got to his orgasm.

Your mind was so clouded with lustful thoughts and of Soonyoung fucking you in a gym, that you didn't even register him leaning down and sucking on your neck, leaving light bruises to bloom on your skin. When he was satisfied with his work, he chuckled and ran a hand through your hair, tugging at your roots so that you would make eye contact with him.

“God you’re so fucking tight, and you keep clenching around me and sucking me in...your pussy is made for me, fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he moaned, his hips beginning to stutter. You could feel the tension in your abdomen about to snap, and your whines grew higher in pitch and drove Soonyoung to his brink, his cum beginning to spill inside of you.

As he painted your walls white with his cum, he moved one of his shaky hands down to your clit and rubbed it quickly and roughly, sending you into a mind-blowing orgasm that made your back arch and your eyes roll. Soonyoung’s chest swelled with pride at the sight of you all fucked out on his cock, your breathing heavy and skin glistening with sweat.

Once you had come back from your high, you noticed Soonyoung had already redressed himself and was bringing out a towel from his bag, walking back over to you and wiping the towel over your skin gently. “Well, that was a different kind of workout wasn't it?”

You could only grin at him as you began to redress, pulling your top over your head and smoothing out your shorts. “You could say that, but were you really complaining? You got to fuck me in a gym,” you countered, his cheeks glowing pink at your statement and turning away from you.

“It was very fun, I’ll admit that, I just hope that no-one has to look at the cctv cameras unless they really want to enjoy a show,” Soonyoung chuckled, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you walked out into the cool night breeze.

[joshuaalbert]

i was like ok i will watch some star trek and i got to the part where ezri realizes In Her Sleep that she’s in love with julian and it was so fucking stupid that i almost fell off my gay little elliptical. s7 about to have a real life body count.

[talkfastromance4]

simmer down-- calum hood oneshot

yeah so this started out as a blurb but...I got carried away. The beginning is really descriptive and Calum doesn’t come in until the end but it’s some fluff after a horrible week I had. 

Word count: 1.6k

Enjoy! :)

***

You come home in a huff, your anger is evident in the rise of your heart rate and the slight shake in your fingers. If you were a cartoon, there would be steam emitting from your ears. Calum or Duke haven’t greeted you yet which you’re a little thankful for. 

When you’re frustrated, you tend to let it stew and fester inside until you’re in the safe space of your home. One comment that rubbed you the wrong way and you exploded in harsh words and a snap in your jaw. 

You don’t mean to do it, and you know it’s unfair to lash out so it’s best that you aren’t around anyone when you’re heated. It gives you time to simmer down and get your thoughts in check. 

You place your leftover lunch in the fridge and your lunchbox in its proper place then you rinse out your coffee cup placing it next to the coffee pot for the next day. There’s some crumbs you notice out of the corner of your eye on the counter where you place the cutting board when it’s in use. Calum must have made a breakfast sandwich and missed a few pieces during clean up.

With a small sigh, you swipe the crumbs with your hand and slip them into your other cupped hand to toss them in the trash. Then you turn the faucet on to let it warm and you suds up the washcloth and decide to clean up the whole counter before proceeding to your shared bedroom.

The living room catches your eye and you see a pillow on the floor and a coffee mug left on the table. You fluff the pillow placing it back in the middle of the couch and see Calum’s journal laid open next to his coffee mug that now holds stale coffee. Knowing he likes to keep his writing private until he deems it finished and shares it with you, you turn the cover but notice the words ‘8 hour absence’ scrawled at the top of the page.

Nothing else. You organize the magazines and other books of art and music before looping your fingers in the handle of the mug. There’s a ring of coffee lining the inside when you rinse it out, usually he finishes it. 

It’s for him not to be home when you’re done with work, you think and make your way back to your room. You strip out of your clothes, folding them neatly on the end of your bed. You snatch your favorite shirt of Calum’s, breathing it in as you head into the bathroom. A warm shower always helps clear your head and ease your tense muscles. 

You don’t look in the mirror as you wipe your makeup off with a wipe, tossing the rose smelling towelette into the trash. You remove your bra and underwear and turn on the shower, letting it rain through your fingers until you turn the knob to the perfect temperature. When it’s just the way you want it, you step into the water, the pressure pelts your face like a warm summer’s rain.

You close your eyes and just feel the water roll over your skin, you rub at your neck and twist your head from left to right so the water hits both of your temples. The constant thrum of the stream soothes you and you think you could stay in here for hours. 

Memories of doing just that with Calum surface in your mind. When he’s been gone for promo or interviews all day and your schedules don’t meet up, you always find each other in the shower. Like ships passing in the night finally joining together. 

His hands would roam over your curves while his lips taste the water off your skin starting at your shoulder to the conjuncture of your neck making you tilt your head sideways. When he nibbles at your ear, your body reacts with a pleasurable shiver and a soft laugh. Your own hands are squeezing around his forearms and biceps, your thumb stroking his warm wet skin. 

You’d spend hours under the water catching up on each other’s day with soft kisses in between. Once you’d be all caught up he’d press you against the gray slate wall, his mouth sucking your neck while his fingers pull pleasure in between your legs. Sometimes he’d even be on his knees before you, your leg hitched over one shoulder and his brown eyes daring you to keep staring at him. 

Not wanting to get too caught up in your real life fantasies, you continue your shower and massage the shampoo into your scalp. 

There’s steam on the mirror when you get out and slip on Calum’s shirt. Your anger dissipated and swirled down the drain and the smell of him clinging to the fabric makes you miss him. Your body is sluggish and more relaxed when you put your clothes back in dresser drawers and closet hangers. 

You decide to watch a movie until he comes home but when you make it back downstairs, the door closes and Duke is sniffing and licking at your feet and legs. His tail wags lazily from side to side and you scratch between his ears. 

“You took a shower without me?” Calum’s smooth rumbled tone makes you look up at him. He has on a muscle tee with some athletic shorts, his curls held back by a thin purple headband, his forehead has a thin sheen of sweat. His lips are pulled into a mocking smile while his eyes scan over you in his shirt. 

Upon seeing him, you feel your whole day--your whole week--crash all around you again and you skip into his arms. His arms wrap around your shoulders instinctively, caging you safely against him and you bury your face in his chest. You squeeze his middle as tightly as you can because somehow it keeps you from not falling apart. 

“Hey…” his nose nudges into your wet hair and you feel his lips give a kiss. “What’ssa matter? Bad day?” All you can do is nod and squeeze harder. “You want to talk about it?” You shake your head. “Want me to just hold you for a bit?” You nod again and he chuckles at your silent communication. “I can do that…”

You remain there in the entryway, holding each other and listening to him tell you about his day. He woke up not too long after you left for work (he was disappointed he missed giving a good morning kiss) and made a breakfast sandwich with avocado and vegemite. 

“Which was a pretty good combo, surprisingly, I don’t think you’d like it, though.”

Then he took Duke out and watched him sniff around the yard for a while and enjoyed the sun himself.  He tried to write over a cup of coffee then fell asleep again for a bit. 

“I had a dream we were camping in a small camper, just the two of us and Duke. There were millions of stars, it almost felt like we were on another planet.”

He tried writing at the piano but the notes weren’t flowing from his head properly.

“And when I picked up my guitar my fingers fuckin’ froze up,” he chuckles and kisses your hair again. “I can’t seem to write without my muse here.”

You smile into his shirt, his words giving you butterflies. He tells you constantly you’re his muse but it never fails to make your heart flutter. You tilt your head back, gazing up at him and feel his breath on your face. He didn’t shave today so his stubble is more prominent, you secretly hope he grows it out. 

“You’re a cheese ball,” you grin. 

“I’m your cheese ball,” he pecks your nose, your cheeks, your forehead, your nose again. He continues the circle of kisses until you’re giggling. “How about a back rub?”

“If you insist!”

You’re on top of him on the couch, watching an 80’s movie with his fingers making ellipticals over your back. That’s when you finally open up about your horrible week. He hums and scoffs and even threatens to have a talk with your co-workers.

“You’re a hard worker, sweetheart, I know it sucks that you pick up their slack but it will payoff in the end. You could get a big bonus at the end of the year, don’t think your work doesn’t go unnoticed.”

“Thank you,” you say in a small voice. 

“Look at me.”

You turn your head, his lips smooth and inviting.

“I mean it, sweetheart. Keep being the badass that I know you are, and you know you are.”

“The anger helps me work harder,” you grimace.

“You don’t seem angry now,” he cocks his head to the side. 

“I did a little cleaning, the shower helped and I thought about you...it helped me simmer down.”

His eyes flash and he wriggles underneath you until he pulls out his phone.

“What are you--”

“Shush!” 

You watch him patiently as his fingers move across the screen, then the familiar sound of ‘She Looks so Perfect’ emits from the phone speakers. He flops his phone on his chest, the ‘hey-hey’s’ are muffled and he’s smiling widely. 

“Simmer down, simmer down,” he sings along and you roll your eyes. 

“A cheese ball,” you mock, poking his nose before stretching up to kiss him. The kiss lingers into something more and your legs move in a straddling position over his thighs. 

“Don’t move honey,” he mumbles along with his own voice and his hands slip under your shirt. You simmered down only to have your temperature risen again, but this time you know you’ll like the ending result.

Taglist: @calumance  @in-superbloom @calpalirwin @karajaynetoday @wiiildflowerrr @sunshineeeluke @littledrummeraussie @suchalonelysunflower @hoodhoran @fobodob @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt @sunshineeashton @ashtonsunflower​ @mymindwide​ @itjustkindahappenedreally

[mino2aur]

the cartoon fuckup that happened to me a while back

This is not supposed to be a story. I feel this thing that happened to me would be best captured in an oil painting by a sexually repressed Renaissance master, perhaps taking inspiration from the tale of Icarus. I don’t have a canvas on me, however, so you will have to make do with your imagination. Usually I only write horror stories, so I apologise if the tone is not sufficiently comedic. It was a difficult time.

If you are picturing me in your mind, please imagine a 5 '7 twink with bad skin and an inexplicable emo haircut.  I am in college. I am generally considered old enough to know better. On this particular day, I was making a stop at Toronto’s Union Station on my way to school. I was operating on several prescription drugs, some of which were working and some of which were not. I was also operating on about four hours of sleep. I was carrying three large bags containing most of my worldly possessions. We arrive at the station on a platform that I do not recognize. The announcer says we will be making a thirty minute stop here and then continuing on to where I need to be. I am also running on an empty stomach, so I disembark and take an escalator down to the food court within the station. This is where the first domino fell.

I purchase some mcdonalds. For those keeping score at home, I am now carrying four bags and a beverage. I return to the place where I dismounted from the escalator, only to discover, horrified, that there is not an “up” escalator to be seen. It’s a very large train station, you see. Lots of corners. Lots of places that an escalator could hide. I look around for a very literal moment before giving up almost immediately. 

“Well,” I think, “maybe this is a one-way type situation. What if I’ve fucked up and I wasn’t supposed to get off the train? That would be bad. This is the only train on this line today.”

Something is forming in my mind. The dominoes are falling faster now. 

“Well, here’s an idea!” says a voice in my head. “What if we just go up the “down” escalator?” 

Oh boy! I’m sure that can’t go wrong!

So, with the chorus in my head being uncharacteristically supportive, I begin to climb the escalator. 

When was the last time you did this? Not with the intent of actually making it to the top, I imagine, just out of curiosity. If you have climbed a few steps and then ridden back down, chuckling to yourself, you are the backwards escalator’s equivalent of a tourist. You know nothing of what I have seen. 

The motion is similar to a stair-climbing elliptical machine, if you and the stairs were in combat. The conveyor-belt handrail is unfortunately your only ally, and it is also moving the wrong way, so you had better be fucking quick. After about three steps, I was struck by motion sickness as my body reacted to the strange non-movement I was trapped in. I was also struck by the thought that someone had seen me. This in turn made me paranoid that when I inevitably fell off and broke my neck I would be recorded in a viral tiktok, potentially titled “F4gg0t Gets Una1ived on Escalator 😂”, and they would have to write “Escalator Faggot” on my tombstone. The danger of my task was beginning to dawn on me. 

I was on the second step to the top when disaster struck. This is the point where I need you to visualise it. I tripped. 

Picture me, silhouetted by the sun, bags strewn about me like wings, so close and yet so far. I lose three steps of progress and slam my knee into the escalator. If you only ever pay attention to a single time I compare myself to Jesus, let it be this one. I was in a biblical level of pain here. They should add escalator injuries to the banned shit in the Geneva Conventions. They should add me to the Victims of Communism memorial. 

I may be an escalator faggot, but I’m no quitter. I began pushing harder. The mcdonalds beverage is spilling onto my arms and bags, because I am clutching it like that lady clutched that banana in that Friday the 13th movie. You know the one. 

I made it to the platform, eventually. In spirit, I feel I may always be on that escalator. I sat on the concrete floor for about five full minutes, as the doors to the train were closed. I got on via the accessibility platform, followed by the announcer, who politely informed me that the doors could have been opened by pressing the button located next to them. This knowledge would have saved me from walking about two train cars. I thanked him profusely, because I know what he saw and I need him on my good side. I would also like you all to know that I only cried a tiny little bit.

This happened about two weeks ago. I remember it like it was yesterday. It returns to me at night, during intimate moments, when my lover runs their fingers up my leg and pauses at three, evenly spaced scars on my knee, and quietly wonders what I had done to receive them.

[st4rbwrry]

Hey:) Okay so a while back you made a post where you asked “what’s your fav fic I wrote for: AOT, JJK and one of your choice” (something like that- I’m not wording the question properly but I can’t find the post🙈) but ANYWAY if you still wanna know here are my favs:

AOT: Lost in London (yo… lemme tell you this fic🥵😍)

JJK: pussy lemonade

Any fandom: Bunny bimbo (chose this one because I almost fell off the elliptical reading it🤣 so it’s extra special)

i didn’t think anyone remembered that bc i posted it really late so no one saw it lol. but i’m glad you loved lost in london bc it’s so underrated i loved that one. pussy lemonade makes me feral to this DAY. and bunny bimbo remains my top five. i definitely remember the elliptical story LMAO.

[isis-astarte-diana]

tooth and nail

Prompt: @koiwokatarushijin​ wanted cheetah!Missy with 16: “I won’t apologise for marking you up, everyone should know you’re taken.” and 64: “I don’t want anyone else. No one else can make me feel like you do.” and, as a bonus, 76: “You know I’m holding back from fucking you over this kitchen counter, don’t push your luck.”

Warnings: NSFW. MIHOW. Some blood. Painful penetration. Cheetah!Missy has a big barbed girlcock and I have no self restraint.

Word Count: 3986

NB: I started this, I liked it, it ran away from me, I stared at it a lot, I finished it. It’s longer than it should be. Significantly longer.

“Keep still.”

Missy’s voice is soft, but the arch of her brow leaves very little room for argument. In the simulated morning of the TARDIS kitchen she looks as beautiful as you’ve ever seen her. With the unbuttoned violet housecoat covering her thin chemise and her dark hair slowly wrestling its way out of last night’s braid, she somehow manages to embody a very human sort of domesticity, even while she inspects the wound on your shoulder with eyes shining a decidedly feline shade of amber. She traces the stinging indent of her teeth with the tip of one short, sharp fingernail, igniting the bite in scalding pain that makes you flinch. She tuts.

“Sorry,” you mumble shyly, at the sound of her displeasure. Your fingers tighten on the edge of the countertop you’re sitting on. “I just- it really hurts.”

She makes a sympathetic noise that sounds uncomfortably close to the chirrup of a hunting housecat. Alongside the elliptical slits of her pupils and the elongated threat of her canines, it turns the pitying look she gives you into something uncanny, something that hovers in that space between frightening and soothing and arousing. It’s a space over which Missy is the sole presider.

“It feels worse than it is,” she explains, as if that’s supposed to bring you comfort. “It probably won’t even scar.” 

“Probably won’t,” you echo, sceptically. “So it might?”

“Well, we can always hope.” She leans in to nuzzle at your throat, her breath warm and quivering with a predator’s purr. The noise sends a shiver down your spine. Idly, you reach up to pet her hair, and her volume increases significantly. You can’t help but smile.

“I won’t apologise for marking you,” she murmurs, and runs the flat of her tongue across the wound. It burns exquisitely. You squirm, whimpering a little, only to feel her hands on your thighs, holding you still. “Everybody should know that you’re mine.”

Missy has always been possessive with her things, of which you take pride of place, but her recent relapse with the virus has only exacerbated that behaviour. She seldom leaves your side for more than a few minutes. Even the maintenance of her TARDIS, something she would usually dedicate entire sleepless days to, almost fell by the wayside until you’d insisted that you didn’t mind accompanying her while she did it. There are piles of blankets and pillows placed strategically throughout the ship, now, courtesy of her new nesting instinct, for you to settle in and watch her working, and she has a tendency to pause frequently in her tasks in order to cross the room and assess your wellbeing.

You can’t say you object.

She’s certainly never been neglectful of your needs, even at her most distracted or dastardly, but this development has come as a pleasant surprise. Typically, she has an almost pathologically long attention span, but the effects of the virus have given her a unique and incorruptible focus on you. She’ll put aside her latest endeavours to make sure you’re fed and watered, will accompany you to bed and stay while you sleep even if she herself stays awake to read. It probably should feel suffocating, but, somehow, it never does.

“I like being yours,” you confess, scratching lightly at her scalp. She kneads the soft flesh of your thighs, just below the hem of your pyjama shorts, her talon-sharp nails pricking you with every squeeze. It’s an affectionate sort of pain. “I wouldn’t mind a scar, it’s just- what if you change your mind?”

“About what?” She licks the bite wound again, gentler now, and shivers with satisfaction at the taste of blood. The sting weakens your voice.

“About me?”

Missy freezes. The purring and the kneading stop abruptly, her spine stiffening as she slowly extricates herself from your neck. The tenderness in her eyes makes your heart clench. You hadn’t meant for the question to sound so melancholy, and now that you’ve spoken you feel abashed for it, turning away as if to hide your face from her. She slips a hand under your jaw, coaxing you back with the careful threat of her fingernails scraping your cheek.

“I wouldn’t want anybody else.” She smiles, the curve of her lips too gentle for the fangs it exposes. “Nobody else could make me feel like you do.”

You flush with delight. “You’re just being nice,” you tease, raising an eyebrow so that she knows you’re not upset, and her answering laugh is like velvet. 

“I’ve never been nice in my life, dear.” Her fingers trail down your neck, spiralling back to stroke over the bite. “This looks lovely on you.”

It looks a mess - or it did, earlier, when you saw it in the mirror while you were brushing your teeth. Her strong jaws have left a deep, livid bruise that spans wide across your shoulder, the bite mark itself half scabbed and half raw, beading lazily with fresh blood. Still, you can’t deny enjoying the thought of being branded as hers, or the way that her obvious appreciation of it laps at your belly with desire. “Do you really think so?”

Her eyes flick back to you, pupils blown, and she bares her teeth at the question. She squeezes your thigh hard enough to make you jolt. “I think I’m doing remarkably well to hold back from taking you here on the kitchen counter.”

This is another effect of the virus that you’re not about to object to.

Missy is hedonistic, by nature, and always has been, but there’s something compulsive about her libido now. The pursuit of pleasure is no longer a hobby for her but an obsession. You certainly had no complaints, before - she would take you with indulgence, your body and its workings a source of boundless fascination, your pleasure or your suffering a thing to be relished - but there is something to be said for being needed. This primal drive to claim and possess and breed is a delightful novelty. It thrills you to see her composure slip so far. Where tooth and nail had been a constant threat, they’re now something of an inevitability, something beyond her control. The depth of last night’s bite is a blazing testament to that.

Sheepishly, you whisper, “you don’t have to hold back. I mean- if you don’t want to.”

“I think perhaps I’d better.” Even as she speaks, you can hear her voice darkening, her fingers beginning to resume their rough kneading of your thigh. She drops her other hand between your legs to cup you through your shorts. The faintest pressure from her fingers against the lips of your cunt makes you wince at the ache there. Her eyes soften. “You’re still sore.”

“Well- yeah,” you admit, with a self-conscious bite of your lip. Hooking your leg around her, you pull her closer with a heel at the base of her spine. She makes no attempt to stop you. The change in position lets you grind into her palm, pleasure sweet and soothing to the swollen flesh. She purrs, squeezing down gently to increase the friction for you, and you can’t bite back a gasp. “I just- I thought, maybe…”

“You thought what?” Missy cocks her head, crooking her fingers to stroke over your clitoris through the fabric. Your whimper earns you another dagger-pointed smile. She ducks her head to kiss along your jaw, tightening her grip on your thigh. “Did you want mummy to kiss it better?”

The desperate noise you make must be answer enough.

Her strength is alarming when she forgets it; it seems to take her no effort at all to pull your hips right to the edge of the countertop, so suddenly that you let out a little yelp in surprise and pain and have to grab the counter to keep from falling hard onto your back. You can already feel a bruise blooming under her fingers from the force. Given her propensity for leaving marks - and the grin that wavers between smug and apologetic - you suspect that it’s not an accident, but when she catches your mouth in a hungry kiss you forgive her immediately.

Her insistent weight slowly presses you to lean back, offering up your throat for her lips. She wastes no time in working her way down it, nuzzling at the softness of your breasts and belly through your shirt until her nose brushes the ticklish skin above your waistband. You let yourself lie flat across the counter, mostly to free up a hand so that you can stroke her hair, and she rewards you by nipping at your hip bone. 

“I can smell myself on you.” It’s almost a growl, her voice raw with desire. “I’m all over you. Inside you.” You jolt upright with a cry when she presses her open mouth to your shorts, her breath hot through the fabric. Your hand goes white knuckled on the edge of the countertop for support. She lifts her eyes to you, almost black with the dilation of her pupils, and scrapes you, gently, with her teeth. It doesn’t hurt - in fact, it feels wonderful, the shock of pleasure stealing your breath - but you recognise the warning and settle back down, closing your eyes against the lights on the ceiling. Her tongue drags flat and scalding over the seam once you do, and she purrs so aggressively that you can feel the dull vibration. Pulling off to ease your shorts down, she adds, “you taste of me, too.”

“I do?” You lift your hips to assist her, and she drags her fingernails down the lengths of your legs as she removes your pyjama bottoms, leaving thin lines of stinging heat in her wake. You quiver under her touch. “From- from last night?”

“From always.” 

Her fingertips pass ticklish over your bare foot when she unhooks the fabric from around your ankles, and she lifts your heel to press a kiss to the sole. It makes you squeak. “Is that a good thing?”

Missy laughs, warmly, flicking her tongue across your arch so that you gasp. She all but slings your leg around her shoulder as she sinks to her knees. Her first breath against your naked cunt is a reverent sigh. “What do you think?”

You don’t think much of anything at all.

Her tongue sliding between your labia is enough to have you short-circuiting, conscious of very little besides the fluid, velvet heat of her. You retain just enough awareness to hold onto the counter beneath you in order to avoid pulling her hair. The briefest pass over your clitoris makes your hips jerk, and she loops her arms around your thighs to spread you wider and keep you in place. Firmer, now, the pressure glides back down, through a delicate furrow of flesh where you can feel both the rough of her taste buds and the impossibly smooth muscle underneath. When she takes this fold into her mouth and touches it - just touches it - with her teeth you have to clap a hand over your mouth to muffle the squeal. 

The reverberation of her satisfied purring doesn’t help matters.

At first, you think she must be doing it on purpose, knowing how it would feel for you, but there are none of the smug chuckles or glances that usually accompany such behaviour. When her tongue strokes the lips of your cunt, still sore and swollen from last night’s activities, and her pitch increases sharply it dawns on you that the noise is involuntary. The realisation that she could derive such obvious pleasure from this renders you almost as weak as the sudden intrusion of her tongue.

Your back arches from the countertop immediately. Missy drags you back down, pressing herself deeper. Kissing you better may have been a misnomer - she’s hot, flexing muscle inside of you, serving mostly to remind you of how raw you are - but you can hardly bring yourself to be upset about the voracity with which she seeks out the taste of herself within you. Your muscles squeeze tight around her squirming tongue. Another escalation in her purrs, coupled with the way her fingers sink into the flesh of your thighs to knead at it, is proof enough that she appreciates her work.

Indeed, she seems content to stay like this for quite a while. Despite her earlier words, there’s nothing urgent about the way she devours you. You lose track of how long she spends working you over with her mouth, stroking unhurried pleasure into you, coaxing out whines and gasps and so much slick that you can feel it running down towards your tailbone. Her teeth catch you, now and then, and flood you with cold adrenaline each time, but never do you any harm.

Her nails are another matter entirely.

Every slow squeeze of your thighs comes with needling pain. It’s not vicious - far from it - but the insistent clawing always follows the same path, carving into you to mark where her fingers have passed. The scratches are blazing hot and stinging with blood. It hurts enough to bring tears to your eyes, but the steady rhythm of squeeze, claw, release is almost meditative, and you lose yourself in it with ease. Dragging your hips over the edge of the kitchen counter, she pulls you down into the lazy pattern of her hands and mouth and breath.

When, at last, Missy fastens her lips fully to your clitoris, the violence of your orgasm hits you like lightning; you’d forgotten that this could only ever end in flames.

By the time you’ve recovered from the trauma enough to lift your head she’s already released you. She laps at the slick that puddles in the dimples of your thighs. Breathless, still whimpering, twitching just above her tongue, you reach down to pet her hair. With a little chirrup of surprise she turns her attention to cleaning away your blood. 

It can’t be sanitary - she’ll wash these cuts properly later, with damp cotton wool soaked in something that burns like salt, purring to comfort your cries - and it stings as much as it soothes. You flinch away from the liquid pain. She holds tighter to your hips, following your retreat even as you scrabble back along the counter, rising from her knees to pursue you. Her low snarl makes you fall still. You know better than to ignore a warning, verbal or otherwise; more importantly, you know better than to snatch meat from the jaws of a lion.

It’s easy to forget, in the calmer moments, quite how savage she can be.

The kitchen lights reflect neon in the vast, dark pits of her pupils when she looks up at you. Her face is wet from nose to chin and faintly smudged with copper. Your eyes lock, for a moment, and a particular kind of stillness settles over the both of you, like the heavy heat before a thunderstorm or the silent shock before a scream. You know full well that any movement now is a provocation. Your arms tremble from the effort of holding yourself still at this half-upright angle, your thighs quivering with the aftershocks of your orgasm, but you can’t stop yourself from squeaking like a captured mouse and, apparently, that’s all the invitation she needs.

Missy yanks you back to the edge of the countertop before you can draw breath to cry out. Naked, now, from the waist down, the pain is startling; friction burns red hot between marble and soft skin, her grip on your hips bruising right down to the bone. The sudden onslaught of her strength turns you cold with primal fright. Weakened by the shock, there’s nothing to do but cling to her for stability, wrapping your arms around her shoulders and your legs around her waist. Her chemise rucks up between your bellies. The heavy brocade of her housecoat irritates the cuts on your thighs, a stinging torment that threatens to loosen the tears clinging to your lashes, until her cock slides between your lips and your body comes alive with an altogether different sort of alarm.

Her barbed shaft slicking through your labia sets you alight. Every tiny spine is a fine point of delicious agony, countless of them clustered together like the bristles of a brush, raking over your delicate flesh. When the head of her cock strokes over your clitoris it feels like the prickle of a dozen needles. The jolt of pleasure makes you choke. It’s too much of everything - too sharp, too sweet, too soon after having come already. Your hips give a stuttering roll into hers, torn between the reflex to pull away and the maddening urge to rut against her. 

Fortunately, the choice isn’t yours to make.

Broad, blunt pressure at the lips of your cunt has you stiffening in her arms. You’re wet enough to take her - you must be; you can feel your own slick puddling beneath you on the counter - but you know that it won’t be easy. However pliant the orgasm might have left you, however well she might have opened you with her tongue, nothing can ease the tight pinch of something too big slowly spreading you apart. You tuck your face against her shoulder to hide the trembling grimace of your mouth and draw a long, unsteady breath, willing yourself to relax.

It doesn’t help. It never does.

The first thrust is a hot knife in your belly. Your cunt burns in furious protest at being stretched so wide so quickly, and your whole body clenches in a futile attempt to force her out. Gasping, you flinch away, but she boxes you in with a hand braced behind you on the countertop. 

"It's alright, it's alright." Missy rests her forehead against yours, the words a scalding rasp across your face. You taste your own blood and cunt on her breath. She rolls her hips, pulling you tight against her when you whine and try to squirm away. Her lips curl back from her teeth in warning. "Relax. Take it for me."

She's quivering with restraint. You can see it in her eyes, hear it in the low growls that tug at the end of every laboured breath. Under your shaking hands, the muscles in her shoulders are tight as coiled springs. Her taloned fingers dig into your back as she fights the instinct to hold you still, to pin you down and take as she pleases. Something like adoration swells in your chest.

You don’t want her to stop - you asked for this, needed this, would have gotten on your knees to beg for it if you’d had to - but you don’t have the strength that she does. You have no more control over your tears or your protests than you do the helpless, spasming muscles of your cunt. All you can do is trust her to know what you’re pleading for. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” The rough of her tongue drags over your cheek, tasting the salt there. Your eyes drift shut when she starts to purr again. You can feel yourself slackening, moving limp as a ragdoll as she hoists your leg higher over her hip to open you wider, and she slips deeper inside you with a slow, slick sting. Your face twists in pain, but you dig your heel into her back to welcome her. Her strained gasp cools the shell of your ear. “That’s it. Good girl.”

You mewl pitifully at the praise. Clinging to her, you shift your hips in an attempt to accommodate the stretch better, working fruitlessly to find a position that might make this feel more comfortable. You succeed only in pulling off far enough to ignite the tender walls of your cunt with friction as her barbed cock grasps at you from within. The burn leaves you blinking back a flood of fresh tears. “Missy-”

“I know. I know, dear.” From the tightness of her voice you can tell that she’s reaching her limit. Soon, soon, like it or not, her need will win out, and she’ll be as powerless as you are against it. You take some comfort from that; comfort, too, in the way she lets her head fall against your shoulder, loose curls of dark hair tickling your neck while she laps at the bite wound there.

It helps - it does help, a bit - to have some other hot wet pain to distract you when she finally starts to move.

Any further pleas die in your throat. No matter how familiar it is, you never seem to get used to the feeling of being rubbed raw by those tiny, needling spines. Missy snarls into the curve of your neck, some of the tension draining from her body as she gives herself over to the pleasure of taking you. You scrabble mindlessly at her shoulders, your every breath a sob.

“My sweet human.” Her claws rake over your thigh to stop your futile struggling. You sink into the pain, relaxing against her chest, letting yourself be torn apart in her grasp. She purrs with satisfaction. “You take me so well.”

The angle isn’t perfect, but it’s good enough. You can’t pretend it doesn’t come as a relief not to have her buried inside you to the hilt. Even so, you can feel her almost unpleasantly deep, pressure clenching beneath and behind your navel each time she fills you. The helpless, jerking motions of her hips push you higher, closer, but you won’t be able to come from this alone. The pleasure itself is an ordeal. Your cunt pulses with it, squeezing her barbed cock like a fistful of stinging nettles, turning every wave of bliss to hot ashes.

If you weren’t so exhausted already, you might slip a hand between your bodies to stroke yourself. If she weren’t so worked up from tasting you, Missy might do the same. As it is, neither of you can think far enough to loosen your arms from around the other, tied together tooth and nail in your own separate agonies. 

Mercifully, she doesn’t last long.

“Come on,” you whisper, shakily, when you feel her grip tightening on your thigh. She shudders at the sound of your voice. Your fingers pluck at her hair, cradling her to you, legs locked around her to pull her deeper. You urge her on with tearful, choking desperation. “Come for me, Missy. Please, please. For me. Just for me. I want- I need-”

When she breaks, she snaps like a steel cable.

Her hips jolt forwards with force that steals your breath. She spills inside you, holding you still to make you take it, her teeth drawing fresh blood from the wound on your shoulder as she comes. Pain strangles your shriek into a silent cry. For a long, long moment you’re conscious of nothing but the roar of your own heartbeat in your ears and the twitching, spasming muscles where your bodies join.

The first slow stroke of her tongue across your shoulder makes you flinch. Missy coos, softly, and nuzzles at you, her unsteady breaths hot on your skin. “Might scar now.”

Your sniffles turn the words into a weak accusation. “You did that on purpose.”

“Naturally.” Slowly, so slowly, she loosens her grip on you, easing back until she can press her forehead to yours once more. Her eyes have brightened to their usual shade of yellow. “How could I resist, when you wear it so well?”

Your face flushes with delight. Sounding rather less disgruntled than you’d hoped, you mutter, “you know, most people just buy their girlfriends jewellery.”

“That’s not a bad idea.” She trails her fingers across your clavicle. You shiver at the touch, and at the sight of her licking your blood from her teeth. “I think you’d look rather fetching with a pearl necklace.”

[hisunshiine]

—work out for me (M) jjk

🏋🏻‍♂️Part of the “Making You Sweat Like That” Collaboration 

🏋🏻‍♂️pairing: neighbor!gymrat!jungkook x neighbor!reader

🏋🏻‍♂️word count: 3.2k

🏋🏻‍♂️genre + warning: 18+, nsfw, post breakup au, strangers/neighbors to lovers | mean ex-boyfriend, semi-public unprotected sex, wet sex, submerged sex, hot tub sex, kissing, groping, semi-clothed humping, teasing, sucking, biting, & marking, praise, scratching, creampie, post-sex cockwarming, jungkook has a fat cock

🏋🏻‍♂️summary: after a bad breakup, you move to a new apartment complex with a full gym and amenities. wanting to catch the eye of your very fit, across-the-hall neighbor, you start using the gym hoping to see him there. when he shows up to the gym and asks to join you, working out takes on a new meaning. 

🏋🏻‍♂️an: this is a revamp of my original story from june of last year! i hope you enjoy the additions/changes made to the story, and please await the sister gym-fics for this special collab, coming soon!

collab masterlist coming soon!

“Who would want you!?” Changkyun says icily. He’s yelling as you walk with the last of your belongings out of the once shared apartment. You cringe, hoping the neighbors are at work or just out in general.

“Clearly you wanted me, Changkyun. I’m sorry that we’re not working anymore… But I can’t do this anymore.” You keep your voice steady, not raising it like you want to. He’s also lucky that your hands are full carrying this box, or else you would have already swung on him. But you know it’s best this way.

His toxic ass loves a fight, loves to create drama in your relationship because of the thrill of making up. Make up sex with Changkyun may be fun, but the rest of the relationship had gone stale a while ago. And you’re tired of fighting.

The last argument, he had taken it too far, so you’re done. You realize as you load your car that he finally caught on. You’re leaving him for good this time, and his fragile ego can’t handle the fact that you’re the one who is making the decision to leave. 

He hopes that by insulting you he can get you to stop and face him. But you won’t make that mistake. You know he will use it to his advantage, turn it into hot, passionate sex, but you want more than just make up sex and drama.

“I can have any girl, YN! I’ll get someone better than you!”

“I’m sure you can have any girl. But I’m not just any girl.” You climb into the driver’s seat of your car, finally making eye contact with him one last time. “Good luck finding a woman like me. I truly wish you all the best.”

Swinging the door shut in his face, you back out your 4-door sedan and head out towards your new apartment in Itaewon.

The new Itaewon apartment is nice, with two bedrooms and one bathroom, you have ample space for all of your belongings. It feels a little empty that first week, and despite having had a tour prior to moving in, you are still not ready to use the facility's amenities fully. The tour showcased that the apartment had a computer lab, a pool, a game room, gym & sauna, and a small theatre room.

Scattered around between apartment buildings are a volleyball court, basketball court, and picnic area. You’re within walking distance to some of the more popular places to hang out for young adults your age, but have yet to go out and enjoy the nightlife.

Running down to your car, where you have left that last box after your encounter with Changkyun—files for a work project forgotten in the backseat—you spy the hot man who lives somewhere in your building. He’s walking back from the gym, shirt dark from sweat in spots as he carries a small gym bag on his shoulder. He’s staring at his phone; strands of his hair slick from perspiration block his eyes but the smile as he sees something on the screen gives you that funny feeling in your tummy. He’s absolutely gorgeous.

You pass him by, noting that his scent is still fresh despite the fact that he has to have just finished a vigorous workout, but due to the deadline on your report, you don’t have the time to linger in his fragrance that fills the narrow hall. You jog back into the building, and when you approach your door, you ascertain fate is on your side. 

Apartment 613, directly across the hall from you, has the door propped open by a gym bag—one you recognize easily, since you had just seen it only a mere minute and a half ago. When a dark head of hair pops between the opening, bending at the waist to grasp the handle and pull the bag in, and you dart into your own apartment.

 You feel like a blushing schoolgirl avoiding her crush, but his aura is intimidating to you. Maybe one day you’ll gather the courage to talk to him, but not just yet.

“What about, I don't know, making a change?”

Your best guy friend’s voice crackles through the phone line as you tidy up your living room. You hold your phone between your shoulder and your ear, keeping your hands free so that you are able to fluff the couch pillows and fold the throw blanket you fell asleep using on the couch. 

“Okay Hoseok, what change do you suggest that I make? I already dropped 169 pounds of toxic ex. I feel like that’s pretty healthy.”

“Why not just go to the gym and use that to burn off all your pent up sexual frustration. You hurt Yoongi’s feelings the other night when you wouldn’t listen to his new track. You’re mean when you aren’t getting dick constantly.”

“Wow, thanks Hobi. Love you too.”

“See. Your sarcasm did not go unnoticed, hun. I’m just saying. Until you can get worked out… work out.”

“I know.” You let out a sigh, defeated. “I stopped going to the gym once I started dating Kyun, spending more time at home acting like a wife, when I knew he was too much of a player to ever settle down for real.” You glance to your front door, imagining 613 dripping with sweat. “I guess I could take your advice.”

“First time for everything.”

“Who the fuck decided going to the gym that their apartment complex provides at the same time, 7PM to 8PM every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday is a good idea?” you huff under your breath. It’s Friday night, and while most people your age are out on dates, cuddled up watching Netflix, or taking shots pregaming, you’re working up a sweat on the elliptical. The gym is normally empty at this time of night, nearing 8PM, and you aren’t feeling all that motivated. So why are you still there?

After moving into your new place, a couple weeks after leaving your longest relationship, you’re ready to be all about you. That’s why you decide to create a gym routine and stick to it, to reclaim your self-esteem your shitty ex had knocked down a peg or two. You didn’t realize how much of what he would say during fights started to become the voice in your head, until he was gone and unable to quiet the ache between your thighs and in your mind.

You’re ready to quit your gym regiment after the first week. 

That is until your hot neighbor appears as you’re about to throw the towel in. 

Hottie from apartment 613 walks in, black hair pushed away from his forehead but still extra floofy, a black tee and black joggers hanging loose off his lean frame. The fluorescent lights glint off the metal earrings dangling from each ear, and his eyebrow; you are enthralled. Each step he takes is fluid, his body moving gracefully across the black rubber gym flooring as he heads to the treadmill. 

This isn’t the first time you have seen him in the gym. You saw him during the tour and when you were given your keys—you had come to see the setup of your mailbox area and test the mail key when you first had moved in, long hair in his face as he did pushups. You noticed his body first, despite the extremely baggy clothes he wore, and you could see his shape underneath as he moved. You then continued to explore the front lobby, computer lab, and gym areas, all so you could watch him as he continued to his arms, chest, and laughed with a friend in the gym.

If you’re honest, Apartment 613 is the reason you decide to take Hobi’s advice to go to the gym. Being located across the hall from him, in 614, you learn his gym schedule after overhearing the times his door would slam shut behind him as he hustles downstairs. You decide to time your trips 30 minutes before he’ll typically go, in hopes that you can run into him. Coincidentally, of course. Monday and Wednesday are failed attempts. He never shows up and you are left feeling dejected and sore. Friday is your last attempt, and you almost give up too, but then he appears. 

You watch as he grabs weights off the rack behind you, working his arms, and you walk over to the nearby hooks with mats on them so you can sit and stretch. You’re done with your workout, and after stretching, you figure it’s a good time to hop into the hot tub to relax your muscles. 

After completing a good full body stretch and watching Hottie from 613 move around the gym, who you notice has been slyly eyeing you up and down as well, you travel over to the hot tub, where you strip off the oversized T-shirt, leaving you in just your sports bra and spandex shorts. It’s now close to 10 PM, but luckily the gym is 24 hours, and the hot tub is located in a tucked away corner behind the sauna. Private enough for you to feel comfortable to be half naked for a quick dip.

“Mind if I join you?” 

A honey sweet voice, perfect in it’s tenor pitch carries over your shoulder. 

You turn, smiling softly at 613. 

“Not at all. I’d love the company.”

He’s funny. So funny and super cute. He’s also super flirtatious, grazing soft touches to your arm and sweeping his fingers across your face to tuck your hair behind your ear.  Currently, you watch as rivulets of the water run down his neck, following a vein you want to press your lips into and suck on as he tells you about his hobbies. 

“What do you like to do—? Um, I actually don’t think we exchanged names yet.” 

“Y/N. I live in building 6.”

“Jungkook, and me too! I’m 613.”

“I’m 614! We’re across the hall from each other.” You pretend to be shocked, knowing damn well that you have been privy to this information since you’ve moved in there. 

“Wow, I’m surprised…” His eyes linger on your exposed cleavage. “I feel like I should’ve noticed you.”

“Really? What makes you say that?” you say boldly, moving across the hot tub towards him. The middle of the jacuzzi was actually pretty deep for your height, and standing up fully still has you under water from the armpit down.

You feel his hands on the backs of your thighs, pulling you closer to him between his legs where he sits, putting you both at about the same height.

“For one thing.. I definitely notice a nice ass. I don’t think I would’ve forgotten this one.” His hands glide up along your thighs, cupping your cheeks. Moving with the momentum, you allow yourself to climb up, straddling his lap without sitting down fully on him just yet. This puts you a little taller than him, allowing streams of water to flow from your breasts down along your tummy and back into the water.

He’s squeezing his fingers on your ass, feeling you up and you can sense when he rises with excitement from where your body straddles his. Feeling bolder than you ever have, you lean down and kiss him, and the movement causes you to rub your clothed core against the tip of his rising cock. 

His lips are as soft as you thought they’d be, his pink pout moving skillfully with your own before his tongue asks for permission to taste you. Because you’re only wearing the spandex shorts, when his large hands pull you closer to him, his hardened shaft soon throbs against your pussy, feeling as if your spandex shorts are already off of your body. 

Lowering yourself fully onto his lap, keeping your knees on either side of his hips, you stroke your core back and forth along his shaft, with your hands moving to wrap lightly around his neck. He places his hands on your hips guiding you back and forth along him. The friction of your bodies feels so good, despite the burn of your thighs after your workout. He slowly slips his thumbs into the top of your spandex, and begins to slide them down.

You let him.

You break your lips apart to catch your breath, because it’s already hot in the water, and every touch from him is making your body feel like it's aflame. You slide his boxer briefs down as he pulls your sports bra over your head, his shirt the last thing between you until you’re both naked in the hot tub. 

Climbing back on top of him and using your hand, you grab his now fully firm cock and rub the throbbing head along your slit, parting your folds in order to use him to massage your clit. He moans softly into your mouth, a musical sound that gives you goosebumps. Bodies wet and temperatures high, you position him at your aching entrance and sit there with his dick head pulsing to go in, but you’re not allowing him entrance yet.

Jungkook moves his kisses lower down to your neck, suckling softly at your sweet spot behind your ear as his hands tug you impossibly closer.

“Teasing me after we’ve come this far, baby?” he whispers, his wet hair tickling your collarbone.

With his words goading you into movement, you give in, slowly lowering yourself while simultaneously rotating your hips. You engulf his dick with your walls and can feel yourself cream all over his fat cock as he spreads you open. It’s been a month—at least—since you last had sex with your ex, possibly longer, and Jungkook is just so much bigger… 

You take a breath before continuing, slowly beginning to ride him up and down once you adjust to his size. You suck at his neck, enjoying the way the water helps you ride him. He bites your bottom lip and sucks it into his mouth before pulling away slowly, giving you a sultry look. The steam rises, hiding your naked bodies away from any potential peeping eyes. 

You take in the view, the rising wisps of evaporating water framing his doe eyes and reddening skin. His lips are a magnet to your skin, and Jungkook doesn’t stop kissing along your jawline until he reaches your neck and he begins to suck, using his tongue to draw circles. It feels amazing. You keep riding him, enjoying the way he fills you up. 

“Baby, can I go faster?” 

His voice is low and whiny; you can tell he’s aching for more of you, as are you of him. You nod, biting your lip as your hooded eyes meet his own, and he pulls out of you with a sigh of relief for what’s to come. Turning you gently to face the edge of the hot tub, he has you lean your chest on the perimeter and guides your hand to the cool metal of the entry railing as he enters you from behind. 

Arching your backside as high as you’re physically able, you lay flush to the ledge of the jacuzzi, spreading your legs apart farther where they kneel on the tiled bench to give him a better angle. He has one hand on the same metal railing of the whirlpool stairs and the other wrapped around your waist where his palm and fingers lay open and spread across your tummy, where he’s applying pressure in the hope that he can hit your G spot. 

He’s successful. 

You attempt to crawl away from the pleasure, climbing up further onto the ledge when your foot finally finds purchase on the slippery bench seating.  

“You running from me?” Jungkook laughs, unable to stop the jovial sound from coming out of his swollen lips as he watches you try and escape the tantalizing way he fills you. You know you agreed he could go faster, but the fullness of his glide along your gripping walls has you wanting to backtrack. Who knew sex could feel like this—like you were about to reach nirvana, like once you come you won’t ever be the same.

“I don’t, see—ahhhhh… How this is a— ssss fuck! A laughing matter,” you cry out with trouble.

Your body tries again to run away. It doesn’t hurt; on the contrary the pleasure was too high, but he changes tactics to listen to your body. Lifting you almost effortlessly out of the water so your torso is fully onto the surrounding surface, he showcases his raw strength as he carries out this task while simultaneously plunging his dick deeper into you as he takes your original position of kneeling on the tiled seat in the hot tub, giving him the perfect angle to continue to fuck you.

“Ahhh, Jungk-kook, I’m… fu—!” He pulls out of you again, despite the tug of your walls to keep him inside and turns you on your back to face him. Bringing one of your legs up, he rests it on his chest as he begins slowly pumping into you.

“I knew you’d be flexible, Y/N.” Jungkook moans as he positions both of his hands on either side of you. You lift up the leg that’s still down, and he places it into the crook of his arm.

“Go as deep as you can,” you pant, “and stay in. I want to feel you.”

Pulling you back into the water, Jungkook carries your now weightless body to the deeper part of the hot tub, holding you in place. You’re practically folded like a pretzel; both of your legs are hooked at the knee in the bend of his arms and his cock remains nestled deep inside of your cunt, walls pulsing around him as your muscles try to fight his thick penetration.

“You take me so well, damn baby.” Jungkook praises you and he’s rewarded with a tightening grip that tells him you’re more than enjoying the moment with him. He’s definitely enjoying the moment as he’s buried within you. 

You place your head into the crook of his neck, and claw his back in an attempt to pull him closer. You’re moaning loudly by this point, so you bite his neck to keep from yelling. Jungkook backs you up into the wall of the hot tub and begins to pump faster, and you can feel yourself build towards climax again. The water’s penetrating against your back from the jets, and Jungkook’s penetrating your front.

“Ah, fuck… Jungkook—don’t stop, uh-huh… Kookie, deeper… right there!” you yell as he finally hits his last few deep & hard strokes, before finally emptying himself out into you. Your walls quiver around him, sucking out every last drop that he pumps into you.

You’re breathing hard, and Jungkook sits on the ledge seat in the water with his head back and his eyes shut. You float over to where he is and he grabs you so that you’re straddling him, though this time you rest your head on his firm chest.“Damn, that was a fucking workout.”You laugh into his strong chest.

“It was worth the pain I’ll feel tomorrow.”

He looks down at you, his chest feeling light as he takes in your messy bun, cute smile, and the way your eyes are shut as you relax against him.

“How about I give you a full body massage back at my place to make up for having you work out for me a second time tonight?”

↣ all rights reserved © hisunshiine 2020-2021. please do not repost. translations & modifications are not allowed.

thank you for reading! ♡ 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘶𝘺 𝘮𝘦 𝘢 𝘣𝘰𝘣𝘢 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘪 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵. ♡