#muscle machine mass

[roylustang]

WHY AM I SO SHIT AT EATING FML

[redcherrykook]

──𐙚 spot me instead- gym jealousy request

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content: gymrat!JK x gymrat!reader, jealousy, public sex, bending over, choking, mirror sex, ass-guy JK, unprotected sex, creampie

note from cherry: i hope that didn't disappoint cloud anonie, i know u said he doesn't do anything until they r alone butttt i rlly like this scanrio!!! LMK IF U WANT A DIFF VERSION ILY

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"Yeah good job on that babe, you're getting so much stronger" jungkook says with a broad smile after you just finished your bicep curls, having upped the weight by 2kgs from to weeks ago

"Thanks" you reply, pressing a kiss to his cheek,

He looks around for a second, hoping to see the same man's eyes watching

That guy had been here for almost all your late night sessions, carefully watching you with that burning gaze of his,

Jungkook isn't a stranger to his girl being oggled at, the gains have been showing after all that work

He did keep an eye out for him though, noting to wrap his arm around your waist more often whenever he was also there

His favorite part about always working out with you was your smile after accomplishing a new set of weights or an extra rep,

His second favorite is the sweaty, flushed look on your face and the way your chest rises in the tiny sport bras you'd wear

He teases you too, sometimes omitting the shirt, sometimes flexing even when it wasn't necessary

Without being able to spot the guy this time, jungkook just resumes his chest press, laying down on the angled bench and watching your plump ass move while you walk off to the back, probably searching for an unoccupied smith machine

He smiles to himself, starting his set like he normally would

However, when he comes back up, his jaw immediately clenches

"Hey, i've seen you 'round here. You look pretty strong" the tall, short haired male says to you

Although kook can't hear the words, the imagine of you in the mirror, smiling while looking up to the muscle mass in front of you is enough to ruin his mood

What is that jerk saying to my woman?

"Ah, thanks" you reply, trying to stay polite when you can see the anger boiling inside jungkook from having caught a little glimpse,

His stare is so strong, you can practically invison his tongue pressing the inside of his cheek, or the way his eyes sharpened

"Anyways, mind spotting me pretty?" the guy asks, a smug smile on his face,

You're about to make a face and dismiss him, your boyfriend however, was way faster

"I'm not usually a fan of guys calling me pretty, but i'd love to spot you"

Jungkook's reply has you trying to hold in a laugh, his broad back in your view, blocking you from the flirty guy's gaze

The guy scoffs, "woah, easy there"

Jungkook steps closer, tilting his chin up to him slightly,

The tone of his voice is stern, so much so that it sounds like a warning, and you just know,

you're gonna get to feel his jealousy pounded into your pussy once this guy left

Knowing Jungkook, he wouldn't mind doing it in front of him either

"Listen, you stop eye fucking my wife and we have no problem, if you talk to her one more time, you're not gonna want to come back here"

Embarrassingly enough that is what it takes for the guy to leave without another word,

It is also enough for the wetness between your legs to rise, probably flooding your light blue leggings with a wet spot between your tighs

"God you're so sexy when you're jealous" you tell him, stepping back to be in front of his Cleary pissed of expression,

You slide an arm down his chest, creeping under the hem of his shirt

"Over to the bench, bend over, you need to he reminded who you belong to" he mutters, landing a harsh smack to your ass,

Not in the mood to piss him off even more, you agree, quickly scooting to the bench

With this time of the night, the small apartment gym wouldn't have any visitors to catch you,

Or so you had hoped, the thrill of it clearly overweighing any and all rationality

You're met with your face in the mirror, folded in half over the angled bench,

Jungkook throws his shirt over to the side, slapping your leggings covered ass once more

"These fucking tight, tiny pants are doing nothing to hide what's mine" he groans, his large palms groping at your cheeks before ripping the leggings down to your knees

He licks his lip as you keep watching him through the mirror, his hands massaging at your ass and smacking it after each soft touch

"You're mine understand? This is my ass, my little cunt, you're all mine"

His hand wanders down to your thigh, slipping between them to rub your clothed entrance with his fingers,

"So fucking wet, i knew you'd like this baby, you just love this don't you?" He says, rubbing his thumb against the soaked material of your underwear before also ripping off your panties,

You moan, head falling down on the edge of the bench,

"Keep watching, see who's gonna fuck you this good" he says, his voice breathy and growly as he spanks your ass once more, having already pulled out his heavy, needy cock from his pants

He pumps it a few times, holding eye contact with you in the mirror, slapping his tip against you a few times

You bite your lip softly, small whimpers leaving your lips while your hands clam around the sides of the bench, eyes almost fallen shut from anticipation,

When he does push himself in, he's merciless, hard thrusts rapidly collding with your skin

"Yeah, take this cock baby, mine, my little pussy" he grunts, slapping your ass repeatedly while you try your best to keep watching his face, twisted in pleasure so beautifully

The bench rocks, lewd slapping sounds echoing around the empty gym,

He keeps pounding into you, harshly fucking his possesiveness into you,

All you can do is moan and take it, too good to even beg for mercy,

Suddenly, when Jungkook reaches that sweet spot right, hitting it with every hard thrust of his hips, you're no longer able to keep your head up,

Jungkook is quick to catch on, his tattooed arm making its way to the front, hand grapping your throat and squeezing it tightly

You let out a loud, strangled moan

"Keep watching who's fucking you so good, keep your eyes on me" he mutters, cursing out under his breath,

Your eyes look back over to the mirror, his buff arms flexing with every muscle, large hand wrapped around your throat and his pumped chest glazing with sweat, all on display for you to admire

Both of you are close, chasing after that knot in your lower stomach to finally burst,

The grip on your throat tightens,

"Say it pretty, who's fucking you this good?"

"You! Jungkook! Jungkook" your voice cries out, cheeks flushed and sweaty while your eyes are in constant connection to his proud gaze in the mirror,

"Thats right baby, who does this little cunt belong to?" he asks again, this time, you need to take a second to reply, your orgasm so so close in reach that it's hard to talk when you're filled to the brim with his thick cock hitting every spot,

"Who's tight little pussy is this?" Jungkook repeats, his groans becoming louder inside your ears

"Yours! Yours kook all yours, fuck please please" you begin to beg,

Once he lets out a last single "fuck..mine.." you can feel his cum filling up your walls, coating you in himself,

His thrusts slowing down with your high coming down on you as well,

Both of you pant, he stops moving his hips and presses a couple kisses to your shoulder, then softly up your neck while removing his hand from your throat

"Mhm.. kook that.. fuck" you breath out with an exhausted chuckle, resting your head on the bench

Jungkook laughs too, spreading your soft cheeks to reveal your swollen cunt leaking with his milky cum, lazily dripping down between your legs

"I know baby.. fuck, you're all mine. Gonna take you home and eat you out yeah? Deserve a nice reward after i was so rough on this pretty girl" his finger reaches down to press on your clit, lips already pressing small kisses on your ass before moving his tongue down to taste himself on you

"You can't imagine how much i love you" you say while moaning softly

[nasa]

Athletes Go for the Gold with NASA Spinoffs

NASA technology tends to find its way into the sporting world more often than you’d expect. Fitness is important to the space program because astronauts must undergo the extreme g-forces of getting into space and endure the long-term effects of weightlessness on the human body. The agency’s engineering expertise also means that items like shoes and swimsuits can be improved with NASA know-how.

As the 2024 Olympics are in full swing in Paris, here are some of the many NASA-derived technologies that have helped competitive athletes train for the games and made sure they’re properly equipped to win.

The LZR Racer reduces skin friction drag by covering more skin than traditional swimsuits. Multiple pieces of the water-resistant and extremely lightweight LZR Pulse fabric connect at ultrasonically welded seams and incorporate extremely low-profile zippers to keep viscous drag to a minimum.

Swimsuits That Don’t Drag

When the swimsuit manufacturer Speedo wanted its LZR Racer suit to have as little drag as possible, the company turned to the experts at Langley Research Center to test its materials and design. The end result was that the new suit reduced drag by 24 percent compared to the prior generation of Speedo racing suit and broke 13 world records in 2008. While the original LZR Racer is no longer used in competition due to the advantage it gave wearers, its legacy lives on in derivatives still produced to this day.

Trilion Quality Systems worked with NASA’s Glenn Research Center to adapt existing stereo photogrammetry software to work with high-speed cameras. Now the company sells the package widely, and it is used to analyze stress and strain in everything from knee implants to running shoes and more.

High-Speed Cameras for High-Speed Shoes

After space shuttle Columbia, investigators needed to see how materials reacted during recreation tests with high-speed cameras, which involved working with industry to create a system that could analyze footage filmed at 30,000 frames per second. Engineers at Adidas used this system to analyze the behavior of Olympic marathoners' feet as they hit the ground and adjusted the design of the company’s high-performance footwear based on these observations.

Martial artist Barry French holds an Impax Body Shield while former European middle-weight kickboxing champion Daryl Tyler delivers an explosive jump side kick; the force of the impact is registered precisely and shown on the display panel of the electronic box French is wearing on his belt.

One-Thousandth-of-an-Inch Punch

In the 1980s, Olympic martial artists needed a way to measure the impact of their strikes to improve training for competition. Impulse Technology reached out to Glenn Research Center to create the Impax sensor, an ultra-thin film sensor which creates a small amount of voltage when struck. The more force applied, the more voltage it generates, enabling a computerized display to show how powerful a punch or kick was.

Astronaut Sunita Williams poses while using the Interim Resistive Exercise Device on the ISS. The cylinders at the base of each side house the SpiraFlex FlexPacks that inventor Paul Francis honed under NASA contracts. They would go on to power the Bowflex Revolution and other commercial exercise equipment.

Weight Training Without the Weight

Astronauts spending long periods of time in space needed a way to maintain muscle mass without the effect of gravity, but lifting free weights doesn’t work when you’re practically weightless. An exercise machine that uses elastic resistance to provide the same benefits as weightlifting went to the space station in the year 2000. That resistance technology was commercialized into the Bowflex Revolution home exercise equipment shortly afterwards.

Want to learn more about technologies made for space and used on Earth? Check out NASA Spinoff to find products and services that wouldn’t exist without space exploration.   

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

[shares-a-vest]

I feel like over the past week and a half, I have been any given one of the trio in this ficlet. So yeah, I'm projecting onto my blorbos. Enjoy!

Eddie can sense Steve isn't in bed when he blinks awake. It's still dark out and the apartment is freezing. Well, Eddie is freezing without the furnace-like warmth of his boyfriend curled into his side.

He looks over at Steve's nightstand to find that the alarm clock only reads a little past 3am and that's when he begins to panic. It's nowhere near time for Steve's early morning run, nor is it a reasonable enough hour that he might be pottering about in the living room.

So, Eddie hops out of bed and is immediately hit by the winter chill of the two-bed apartment he and Steve share with Robin.

He shivers as he walks into the hallway, where he finds the apartment still shrouded in an icy darkness. He chances a peek into Robin's room, where he finds his housemate sound asleep and snoring, lying in the middle of her bed and certainly without the company of her best friend.

Steve has nightmares – hell, the three of them do. But Steve usually ends up with Robin if the situation arises.

Eddie continues on, now tucking his hands under his armpits, hugging himself as he dips his chin into the loosened neck-hole of his oversized sweater – a maroon-coloured former Harrington Classic.

He tiptoes along so as not to disturb Robin, almost sliding his socks along the floorboards as he makes his way into the living area, his path illuminated by outside street lamps.

Eddie tsks under his breath when he comes across Steve, curled in on himself as he lays soundly asleep on the couch, his nail bat close by on the floor.

Steve hums, or more shivers – visibly freezing as he sleeps in nothing more than an old pair of gym shorts whose material Eddie suspects might evaporate the next time they find themselves in one of the building's shoddy washing machines.

He sits by his boyfriend's side and places a hand on Steve's shoulder, desperate to stir him enough to coax him back to bed, but not spook him entirely.

"Sweetheart," he stage-whispers as Steve grumbles.

"Hmm?" he murmurs before startling awake. His eyes snap to attention and he looks up at Eddie as he speaks full volume, his voice groggy, "I heard a noise."

Steve rubs at his arms, the iciness of their surroundings hitting him now that he is (at least, partially) conscious.

"Love, I need you to come back to bed, it's freezing out here."

"But, I heard a noise," Steve whines, sitting up now.

Eddie can't help it, he presses his palm to Steve's cheek and his heart skips a beat at just how cold he feels.

"Shit," he curses and loops his arm around Steve's middle, commanding, "Bed, now."

Steve grumbles, but complies, lazily reaching for his bat before they both stand up as one. Eddie takes his boyfriend's weight, the bat dragging along by Steve's side as they shuffle back towards their bedroom.

Steve shivers and continues mumbling something about the noise he heard. And Eddie can't tell if it was an actual noise or something heard in that strange (and admittedly, scary) space between wake and sleep. Whatever it is, Steve seems both frightened and stubborn all in one.

He shudders again and Eddie can't bring himself to bite his tongue any longer.

"Baby, why aren't you wearing a shirt?"

Typically, he'd be all over Steve in such a state of undress – with all that hair and muscle. But right now, his arms are peppered with goosebumps and his eyes are starting to droop with every step.

"Got hot before," Steve explains, weary.

They pass by Robin's bedroom and the door opens fully, revealing a duvet-covered mass and in the darkness, Eddie can still spot a frown.

"What's going on?" she asks, voice like gravel but nonetheless worried.

"I heard a noise, Robbie."

His tone pains Eddie from his heart down to his gut and the same must happen to Robin too because, in an instant, she retreats to her room in haste.

Eddie continues on to his and Steve's bedroom and gently lowers Steve onto the edge of the bed before he takes the baseball bat. He makes a show of rolling it back under the bed but Steve isn't watching. Instead, his boyfriend is looking over at Robin, who has reappeared, cradling a handful of items and hunching her shoulders in a feeble attempt to keep some kind of hold on her blanket.

Eddie flicks on the bedside lamp and crosses her as he heads off in search of a sweater. He rifles through a drawer and listens on to what sounds like Robin crowding the nightstand with her stuff before she swishes about the excess bedding. Steve whines and Eddie turns back to find Robin with her arm around her best friend.

"Alright," Eddie says, holding out a navy sweater, "Time for bed."

He gestures for Steve to lift his arms up and he complies. It takes a moment, but Eddie wrestles the near-dead weight of Steve into a cozy sweater before he lifts his legs to help him into bed.

"In the middle, Dingus," Robin instructs, "And don't snore."

"How about, you don't fart," Steve quips, shuffling into the middle nonetheless.

There's a bitchy lilt to Steve's voice that has Eddie relaxing a little. He rolls his eyes, thinking the pair burrowing under the covers will probably bicker on. But honestly, he'd prefer that to the balled-up, half-naked, scared Steve he found out in the living room.

Eddie exchanges a glance with Robin before she reaches for the nightstand and grabs a hot water bottle, her Walkman, a notepad and a pencil.

"What the hell are you doing?" Eddie grouses, rounding his side of the bed – thankful to slip back under the covers.

But he pauses mid-way, distracted now as Robin juggles with her wears.

"I need my things," she grumbles as she places the hot water bottle on her stomach and dry sobs, "Oh no, it has gone cold!"

Steve rolls his eyes in Robin's direction, more sleepily than annoyed.

"Eddie, go get some hot water," he mumble-commands, turning to snuggle in close to his best friend.

"What?"

"Eddie..."

"Fine," he reaches for the hot water bottle and snatches it from Robin's grasp.

Eddie thinks he must love his boyfriend a lot, considering how he freezes his ass off to a doubled-over, teeth-chattering level in the several minutes it takes for their stupid kettle to warm up. And by the time he gets back to the bedroom, Robin is quietly snoring with Steve tucked into her side, the two of them forming a single hair-filled mass of platonic soulmatedness.

Eddie tucks the hot water bottle under Robin's covers as best he can and resumes his spot, giggling at the thought of the inevitable drool that is going to make its way into Steve's hair at some point. He snuggles in behind Steve, forming a cocoon around him and his boyfriend snuffles at the touch.

"It's okay, Stevie," he says, kissing him just behind the ear, "Get some sleep. Don't think about the noise. You're safe here with me and Rob."

"What about my ba –"

"It's back under the bed, sweetheart," Steve hums at that, relaxing against him, "We'll figure out the noise in the morning, I promise."

"'Kay," Steve breathes more than speaks as sleep overcomes him, "Love... you."

"I won't let anything hurt you, Steve," Eddie says, hugging him tight.

[fullfriendnerdclutch]

Archive: Rent-a-Cop Part 1 - 3

"It’s supposed to do what…? …Are you serious Captain?” Officer Grant Johnson sighed looking at his commanding officer with incredulity.

“Johnson, remember you volunteered for this. Now if the professor’s machine works like he says it does, its value to the force will be immeasurable," The Captain typed in some more information onto the panel, going back and forth between some hand-written instructions, furrowing his brow.

“Fine… So you scanned me in or whatever, now what?”

“Just a minute! I need to finish calibrating the damn thing or God knows what it’ll do to you!” Johnson rolled his eyes but nodded, running his hand through his salt and pepper hair impatiently.

“Okay okay… Just remember we do well enough without some freaky gizmo though. I’ve put away some of the baddest guys in this city in my day…” Officer Johnson patted his gut with a chuckle. “…I suppose I have been getting a bit soft though,"

“Well why don’t we see what we can do about that?" The Captain lifted what looked to be a simple wireless microphone.

“Load profile: Grant Johnson.” The machine behind them made a small noise, Officer Johnson looked to it then the Captain and shrugged.

“Reduce age by half, increase muscle mass 300%, and reduce body fat ratio by 80%—”

The Captain cut off and gaped at the sudden change in his subordinate. Gone was the weary looking Officer with the pot-belly looking forward to an ever closer retirement. In his place was a mountain of a man, who looked half bodybuilder/half cop. Johnson just stared at the Captain.

“…What? How long do we wait?”

“What do you mean what? You’re huge!”

Officer Johnson narrowed his eyes at the Captain then looked to his arm, pulling back the sleeve and flexing his massive biceps; it must have been around 24 inches.

"It doesn’t look any bigger… definitely not 200% bigger. And what was with the command to halve my age? You trying to send me back to highschool?” He chuckled a deep, rich, masculine laugh.

The Captain stammered a moment before looking back to the hand-written notes, thumbing through them before speaking into the small microphone again.

“Recall self prior to last command," that did it. Grant yelped, looking back to his arm, giving it a small poke then looking back to the Captain. 

“Holy shit! Captain! Look at me! I can’t believe it! That machine is nuts!” The Captain frowned lightly but nodded.

“Yes, yes. The possibilities are endless, but we’ll need to make sure we note any Officer’s previous self to their changed self… I think we’ll just keep this to ourselves until we can learn a bit more about it.”

“Aww– Fine… Too bad though, with this thing I’d be right back in the swing of it. All those bastards I’ve spent my career taking down would just be the beginning; I could be back on the beat full time.”

“Well, we’ll see. For now lets get you back to normal, lock this place up and head back upstairs. Don’t want anyone in the precinct getting nosy down here…”

-

The captain returned Officer Johnson to normal then the pair left; all without taking note of the surveillance camera silently blinking above their heads. 

In the security room, rookie cop Noah Bartlett stared at the camera footage. He’d been benched and given desk duty after none other than Officer Grant Johnson had accused him of being on the take… 

Nevermind the fact that he was, afterall there were several local crime bosses who paid good money for any tip or advantage they could get against the cops….

An idea slowly formed in Noah’s mind as he looked to the wall at the master security keyring and a smile grew on his face… He wondered how much they would pay for a chance to rent that machine and use it on Officer Oh-So-Perfect Johnson…

--

"You understand, Captain Diaz?"

The older cop replied in a dull monotone "Yes,"

"Yes....what?" the rookie replied, smirking vindictively

"Yes Master Noah,"

"Good," he pulled the machine's microphone close to his mouth and read off a little notecard he had prepared

"Captain Diaz won't consciously remember the events of the last 10 minutes or so. Captain Diaz will return to his office, wait one hour then call Officer Johnson in, and then follow the previously given instructions,"

With that, the Captain wordlessly walked out, while Officer Bartlett quickly reset the room to how it was, before hurrying back to his desk in the security room.

Rico Antonetti was one of the mid to upper level mob figures in the city and he and Officer Noah Bartlett had worked out a few arrangements before getting caught by one oh-so-squeaky-clean Officer Grant Johnson.

Noah had reached out to the mobster and informed him of the department's prototype machine. Rico was skeptical so the two worked out an appropriate demonstration.....

Precisely one hour later, Noah looked up to see Officer Grant Johnson on one of his monitors, step into the Captain's office and take a seat

"Listen Johnson, we've got a tip off about some new little bordello Antonetti has setup downtown. It might be bogus, but I need you to go in and investigate,"

"Sure Cap, let me get a team together and we'll be able to hit the place by tomorrow nig---"

"NO! Er......no, that will be too late, these places move around and we don't know how many ears Rico has in the department. If we want to hit him while this info is good, we need to do it tonight and I need you to go by yourself,"

"Uhh....that sounds more than a little bit risky, don't you think, Captain?"

"Yes, or at least it would be, if we didn't have our department's new toy," the Captain said sternly

"Oh....yeah, I guess so then. If you think it's that serious...."

"I do, let's get you prep," quickly replied the Captain as he stood up from his seat and opened the door briskly

Noah almost giggled with glee as he watched the two depart the Captain's office and head to the storeroom where the Professor had dropped off the machine. Everything was going according to script so far

"Alright Johnson, you ready?" The Captain picked up the wireless mic, flipping the machine on

"Yes Sir," Grant smiled, giving his somewhat rotund belly a gentle pat goodbye

"Load Profile: Grant Johnson." once more the machine whirred to life, humming softly and awaiting input. "Subject will recall self following this set of commands: Reduce age by 60%, increase muscle mass by 200%....."

The Captain's voice and face then seemed to go a bit slack and he took the microphone and opened the door to exit the room

"Err...everything alright, boss?"

"Yes, wait there, I need to check something,"

Captain Diaz quietly made his way down the hall to the security room, he opened the door where Officer Bartlett sat grinning

"Welcome Cap, I'll take that," he reached out, grabbing the mic and looking back to the video feed of the new, younger, buffer Officer Grant Johnson sitting patiently

"Subject will not recall self following this new set of commands. Change sexuality to homosexual. Increase libido by 300%. Reduce work ethic by 75%. Add behaviors: narcissism, arrogance, exhibitionism, bullying, domineering, perversion, and of course, corruption," Noah watched as the posture and attitude of Officer Johnson shifted. The man in the monitor crudely rubbed his genitals through his uniform pants and impatiently checked his wristwatch before noting the mirrored window in the room and stepping up to flex in front of it

"Perfect, now reduce subject employment standing to rookie, erase all experience of previous service and update it to 3 months," the stripes on Grant's uniform vanished, "Subject will continue flexing in the storeroom until Captain Diaz returns," there was no change in the cocky behavior on the monitor, but Noah knew Grant would stay like that as long as needed now

"Load profile: Carlos Diaz. Subject will believe that Officer Grant Johnson has always been as he is now and has not been changed by the machine. Subject will load in each member of the department's profiles overnight tonight and make the same changes to their recollection as well. Subject will not consciously remember the events of the last hour and will return to scold Officer Johson for being where he shouldn't be, then send him out,"

Captain Diaz silently left the security room and Officer Bartlett returned to his monitor. He watched smiling as the Captain entered the storeroom and clearly yelled something at the now rookie Grant Johnson. Officer Johnson replied by gripping his own groin and flipping the Captain off as he left.

"Now then, tonight should go on as planned,"

--

Grant drove down the street slowly. It was dark and while he may not have given a shit about what he was doing, he was still a cop. He saw the kid on the corner signal to someone as soon as he showed up. But that was fine, let 'em get their shit out of there, it would be less work on his part.

He parked a couple houses down from the address his tightass Captain had given him for this supposed brothel and slowly approached. From the front it looked like any other kind of shared housing in one of the city's projects

He eyed the door, strangely it was left ajar. He carefully slipped inside, having to squeeze his muscular form through rather tightly so as not to risk moving the door any further

The first floor was dark but as he peered up the stairs, he saw the second level was well lit......if anything's going down, it's up there

He thought he moved quite silently but in reality he was rushing and the house creaked under his weight with each step. When he reached the top, he saw a hallway full of closed doors, save one left half open with light pouring out of it

He crept towards it, growing annoyed at what a waste of time this was turning out to be. He paused by the door when he heard a young man speaking on the phone

"Yeah....yeah he's comin' so I called like you told me to....yeah, you're sure about this?.....Naw naw, I'm good for it.... Alright, alright, then do whatever it is you're gonna do, I'll let you know,"

The young man hung up the phone, Grant furrowed his brow at what he'd heard.....it sounded like something might actually about to go down....Looks like showtime. He stepped forward, kicking the door open and entering the room with his gun drawn

"DON'T MOVE!" yelled Grant with his deep baritone voice with that hint of coarseness from his smoking habit

The room looked like a simple one bedroom unit, hardly the sex den he was expecting. On the bed seated a rather handsome college-aged jock, he had his arms raised and was watching the police officer, but he didn't seem startled. Grant frowned and looked around the room before stepping to the man and patting him down; finding no weapon, he put away his firearm.

"We got a tipoff about prostitutes working out of this address to supply the mob. You know anything about that?"

The young jock paused for a moment looking at Grant just long enough to begin annoying him, before finally answering tentatively

"Of course Officer.....that's what I'm doing here," Grant just stared a moment......did this little twunk just admit to being a whore?

"You're a hooker?"

Sensing Grant's confusion, the young man smiled and nodded. He stood and approached the cop

"Yeah.....Rico said I was your favorite after last time, so it was my job to......cover your protection fee...." the jock's hands were a bit rough but his puppy eyes really caught his attention and radiate this submissiveness Grant cannot resist. He softly stroked Grant's chest and stomach, causing the ripped Officer to moan and shudder in delight

"Oh...oh yeah, now I remember you," Grant's stated with more conviction, his memories betrayed him as it created false imagery of the time he's sitting in the mob-run nightclub with all the male strippers dancing to tease him

The rather handsome hooker simply smiled impishly, his hand caressing lower, which caused Grant to growl in beastly burst of lust, pushing the young man back onto the bed

-

An hour or so later, Grant called in to Captain Diaz, the tip had been bullshit it seemed. The Captain was pissed but Grant didn't care. Meanwhile, Officer Bartlett popped open a bottle of wine when he received a call from one very convinced and very interested crime boss....

-------

Check out my spin-off from this beloved series originally made by coyote-r

More to come later this week

[poppy-metal]

dilf-next-door! art has me 😩 i just feel like he doesn't understand how good he looks. he knows that his body is bad. i mean he's an athlete after all. he's trained for years with the best personal trainers, had the best diet, still works himself to the bone, but he just doesn't see himself as super hot dilf. after years of his body just being a machine for tennis and all the choices for it being made by others, it doesn't feel like his body. it's just a vehicle to get things done. thinking about how infuriating and baffling it would be to hear him talk about himself like that. so you'd have to show him how wrong he was. you have him lay back on the bed and sit in between his legs. trace your fingers all over his arms and chest down to his stomach. rub his abs while you coo at him. he'd stare at you in awe because it all feels unique. being complimented so much and his position, it'd look submissive to an outside eye but everything you do is for him to recieve.

"most handsome man i've ever seen, art. so strong and fit. love it when you wrap your arms around me. make me feel so close to you and safe. and your legs, they're so strong too. feel hard under me. most guys my age don't even take care of themselves like you do. but all you do is work... and i think you deserve a reward."

just worship his body for the night. lick from his abs up to his chest and then kiss his neck. rub yourself on his thigh and tell him how good it feels. don't let him do any of the work aside from being able to feel you up however he wants. take his hands into yours when he grabs at your tits or hip, tell him how thick his fingers are and how good they feel when they're inside you. make it slow and thorough before you move on to the very hard thing in his boxers. 

-☕

cock worship with art..... head fuzzy..... he's so used to giving, and he prefers it that way - you can tell he's not used to it. his body is tense and nearly buzzing with the urge to sit up, to put his hands on you, but you'd looked up at him with your big doting eyes and pleaded with him, genuinely pleaded - like it was something you wanted (it was), to take care of him, to please him - and that doesn't really compute to him - cant work his brain around it - but he can't deny you anything, is the thing. telling you no is worse than getting a blowjob, he's not so deep in his issues with self worth that he'd make a big fuss about you putting your mouth on his body. its the staying still that he has trouble with.

you can tell with every twitch and jump of his muscles as you skim your mouth down his toned body. he hisses and jolts when you lick around the hard peaks of his nipples. "sorry," you giggle, moving down to his stomach. his hard stomach - god - "they looked cold. wanted to warm them up."

"jesus." you peer up at him to see his gaze is cast to the ceiling, like he cant look at you. it makes you smile, you know he doesn't get it but you're having the time of your life here. his perfectly toned, tight, rigid body. warm and solid under you, you cant help rubbing your cheek against his hip, nuzzling into the toned muscle of his thigh. he's so beautiful. theres so much power here - locked tight under skin and bones and muscle mass - all perfectly crafted, because even still he cares about his body, cares to keep it fit. and you'd love him no matter what he looked like, soft and round, short and stout, but just as he is - an athletes body, hes a marvel.

so much care and time spent into looking this way, and he expexts you not to appreciate it? not to drool over him? insanity.

"you're so strong," you coo at him. rub you hands up his twitching thighs. he doesn't have alot of hair - but he has some fuzz. your fingers find the band of his boxers, his hips lift the slightest bit with an inhale and you smile again - knowing that he loves this, needs this even if he wont admit it - he loves this - he wants this so bad - to be selfish. to be worshipped and shown love. to be desired and hungered for. and you're so hungry. "i think about you all the time, you know. your body - your cock -" your voice sounds like you're waxing poetry, your nose nudging up the cotton of his boxers, "i think about it all the time. drives me crazy. you drive me so fucking crazy."

"baby," he sounds pained. you see his hands twitch on the sheets, curl into fists, the effort not to touch you has to be driving me just as insane. "fuck, you dont - y-you dont have to say - "

"im not just saying it." you interrupt. "i mean it. i love -" the heat of his cock radiates from the thin cotton - you press your face against him through it. feel the hard organ jump under your lips. "-your big fat cock." your cunt is throbbing. you don't tug his boxers down yet, mouthing at him, your lips find the tip of him through the fabric and you pull it into your mouth, dampening the cotton - tasting the salt even now. moaning around it.

"oh god," he's trembling. he loses the battle and you feel his hands touch you, you don't ask him to keep still anymore, because you know hes not fighting this anymore, fighting you. one of his hands card through your hair, big palm cradling the back of your head. the other coming up to tug at his boxers. "please - "

you lift your chin, help him in shoving his boxers down - until they're resting under his balls, you take a moment to admire them - fat and plump and pink - try not to drool at the way his hard cock bounces free and rests against his hard stomach. a bead of pre already pearling out from his slit, leaking.

you fail on the not drooling. your mouth filling with spit. "please, what. what do you want me to do art?"

because he'll feel so free once he says it. admits it. gives in.

he meets your eyes and you try not to be turned on by the desperate almost panicked look in his gaze, like the enormity of his own desire scares him. his lips are puffy and bitten red and he naws and naws on them, before he lifts his hand, fingers feathering over your cheek. reverent. you watch his adams apple bob as he swallows.

and then art donaldson demands something from you for the first time. the hand cupping the back of your neck, urging you forward, towards his hard aching cock thats been neglected for far too long.

"make me cum."

[mindfulstudyquest]

❥﹒♡﹒☕﹒ 𝗱𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗱𝘂𝗰𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗶𝘁𝘆

𝟭. high quality sleep ( 💤 )

never put your sleep on the back burner, 8 hours are not even enough, the younger you are the more you need sleep, especially if you are a woman. adult women generally need to sleep 9/10 hours a night, obviously the amount of sleep needed for rest depends from person to person, but always try to have a good, consistent sleep at night. if you ever think about sacrificing your sleep to study and/or procrastinate, know that you're only hurting yourself in the long run. without adequate rest, you will not be able to function properly and perform at your best the next day.

𝟮. eat nutritious meals ( 🍜 )

when was the last time you ate a nutritious, warm, homemade meal, honey? you should eat at least (AT LEAST) 3 times a day a real, cooked, warm meal that provide you with the proteins, fats and sugars your body needs to function normally. throw away packaged and over-processed snacks, they don't meet your energy needs and are simply full of empty calories that will make you feel sick and don't help your beautiful brain to function. eat lots of protein, which helps you build the muscle mass that keeps you healthy (i'll post about that) and healthy fats which keep your beautiful brain working – the brain is mostly made up of fats so don't be afraid of them! the important thing is to eat healthy fats that are good for our body.

𝟯. less is more ( 🧩 )

do less to achieve more. if you've ever made an absolutely unrealistic to-do list, raise your hand. overwhelmed by a thousand things to do we will never be able to make consistent progress in an area that interests us. it is not possible to do everything all the time and do it well, inevitably our energy runs out, our level of attention drops and we end up doing a little bit of everything badly. not all tasks can have priority, choose what to focus on and stick with it.

𝟰. be gentle with yourself ( 🌾 )

you're really giving it your all, why be so hard on yourself? the things you have done, the goals you have achieved, you should be proud of yourself and smile about it. demanding too much from your body will not lead to anything except burnout, remember that you are a person and not a machine, that you are not made to make every single hour of your day productive, and that it is okay to rest, because only thanks to rest you can face your day with the necessary energy.

[steelestallion]

💪Ryder Steele’s Muscle Gain Instruction Manual. 💪

A surface-level yet comprehensive beginner’s guide to working out/body building/gaining muscle written by a tboy with a degree in human physiology, with tboys in mind. Speed training, toning, and cardio/lung health training will not be explored.

(Part 1) Diet. Talking about food, their molecules and how the body responds.

An aspect of bodybuilding/exercizing that is just as important as the weights and workouts themselves. Generally, the more a human does, the more nutrition they need in every sense.

Protein is needed to survive as a human, 0.8 grams per kilogram of weight MINIMUM. (source) To gain muscle you need to consume more protein than that. 1 gram per pound of body is a good goal.

There are additional ingredients, Amino Acids, you can ingest to give your body more of what it needs to build muscle. The most common is creatine, and it can be found naturally in foods or bought alone. 14mg per pound is a good dose, (source) but you could do as low as you like.

Carbohydrates, fats, vitamins, minerals, and water are other things essential to keep you running, but aren’t the building block of muscle.

For vitamins, minerals, and water be sure to get the daily recommended dose. It’s worth considering a little more than recommend water, potassium, magnesium, and sodium in your diet for adequate muscle usage before and during working out. Also, a bit more calcium in general for muscle movement and the strength your bones must gain to support stronger muscles and weight loads.

For carbohydrates and fats, it’s important to have adequate levels of these. The body uses carbohydrates for energy first and mainly, then uses fats, then proteins. How much? Well it depends on how much you care about the image of your body, and what your goals are.

The Bulk is for people who want to gain muscle and mass a bit quicker. There is clean bulking and dirty bulking. Dirty bulking is eating a lot without much regard to amounts. Clean bulking is to gain muscle mass while keeping your body fat percentage at relatively the same level.

The Cut is for people who want to reduce their body fat percentage. Eating at a slight/moderate deficit to force the body to consume fat cells as energy. High protein is still consumed.

Before working out, you should consume something 30-40 minutes before starting. Preworkout, a caffeinated substance, or complex carbohydrates to give you the energy needed to begin and not crash.

After working out, you should consume a good portion of your daily proteins 30 minutes to four hours later.

(Part 2)Working out. Utilizing and ripping the telomeres of your muscles and forming neural pathways.

To build muscle, you need to utilize the muscles. To get bigger muscles, your body needs to move with more resistance than what it normally does. Weight acts as the resistance.

Warming up is an important first step to working out, as you need to prime your body’s systems and cells. Heart rate is the primary thing to warm up, because using muscles required your heart pump harder and faster. 5-10 minutes of warmup minimum of cardio is best. The intensity of this cardio is your choice. Dancing, fast walking, jogging/running, jump rope, cycling, etc. are good. Stretching is also a good precursor to the warmup as the warmup uses your muscles also. It’s a process, but its important to warm up properly to avoid tightness, cramps, or even things snapping.

The weightlifting a complicated and highly discussed thing. There are hundreds of motions across gym machines, tools, and muscles for you to chose from. Which ones you do depend on what is available, and the muscles you want to work. Write stuff down if you must. Here is an exercise dictionary.

Muscle names are good to know to decide which motions to do. Look at this diagram to learn, and build your own encyclopedia and routine.

Frequency of working out is important. If your body does not use muscles, they deteriorate. You can work certain muscles more frequently than others. Just keep adequate rest. You may see things like push/pull day, arm day. This is the type of motions and muscles focused. Dedicating a workout session/day to one muscle group helps keep track of avoiding overuse. See Rest for more. Once a week at minimum you should work a muscle group to keep it from deteriorating. Here’s an example: Sunday rest. Monday arms&core. Tuesday whole back. Wednesday rest. Thursday whole arms. Friday rest. Saturday whole legs.

Duration of working the muscle during a session/day impacts its growth. A rep is one time going through a motion. Sets is how many times you do a group of reps. 3x15 pushups is I’m doing 15 pushups. Rest. 15 more. Rest. 15 more. Three sets of fifteen. To build endourance, lower weight at higher reps. To build mass and strength, higher weight at lower reps.

Finally, the weight heaviness. You should slightly push your muscles to start, then base your weight patterns off of what is a good amount of strain for you. The more you challenge/strain yourself, the more it will hurt and build muscle mass. Also, the faster you increase the weight your muscles fight against, the higher the risk of injury. However, if you stick to a weight that is not challenging, your muscles will not grow. There must always be some element of challenge your muscles must always be chasing to keep up with. Thats what growing is. For example: I’ve been bicep curling single dumbbells of 10 pounds for months. 12 pounds is a comfortable challenge, and I can do 15 also but not the whole set. So, I may warm up with 1 set of 10lbs. Two sets of 12lbs, then finish with one set of 15 at lower reps. The number of reps per set could be 15,12,10,6. Decreasing reps while increasing weight to prep the body, but not injure too much.

(Part 3) Rest. Your body building new muscle, and preparing to work again.

In between sets of exercise, you need to rest your muscles for enough time for them to become reloaded with their energy, ATP. ~1 minute for heavily lifting. Ensure you’re breathing well also to give your blood oxygen. Deeper, healthy breaths during rest is good.

After training it’s recommended to give a muscle group ~48 hours of rest to rebuild the fibers. Rest means not training it, but of course if you need to use them, use them. Additionally, you can still be active and rest, doing a thing called active rest. Doing nothing at all, which has its benefits, is called passive rest.

Sleep is your body’s way of storing information and taking out the cerebral trash. During sleep your body produces growth hormone, your brain works to retain all of the information you and your body learned during the day, and generally refreshes itself. Napping can e beneficial also if it doesn't interfere with getting the minimum 8-10 hours depending on your age group.

Thank you for reading! If you have any questions, would like help creating workout plans, or would like a bit of praise or encouragement feel free to reach out. Also if there are any errors. Now go have fun!

[mediumgayitalian]

prev

———

By all accounts, Will knows what he’s doing.

He still drives like a godsdamn maniac.

“Do you want us to die?” Nico hollers, cheeks aching from the force of his grin, belly flipping at the peal of Will’s laughter.

The bike is exhilarating, as Will weaves it around cars at unbelievable speeds, working with the bike like it’s a part of him, like it’s not a separate thing he has to move. He steers it with a natural ease Nico’s only really seen in some of the best pegasus riders in camp — he knows the machine intimately enough to anticipate how it moves, how it reacts. It really is an extension of his body.

He left any panic about gripping onto Will somewhere in Long Island — to let go would be suicide. He has to hold on to stay onto the bike, to know to lean when Will leans, to tense when he tenses. Besides that, he’s having fun. He’s not the one driving, so he’s free to rest his helmet on Will’s back and watch as the world whips by — dizzying, really, as the speed of the bike making the green-budding trees melt into the bright blue skies, mix with the tar black asphalt, glow under the sparkling sun. The whole world looks like sidewalk chalk after it rains, a swirling mass of colour and streaks as artistic or more than what it was before it was washed away. The only indication that they’re actually going anywhere rather than standing straight in the middle of a kaleidoscope is the spots of roadside green that pop up every now and again, or a heavy lean to the side and Will switches lanes.

As they pull out of New York, Will starts to slow down. The dizzying mass of colours calms until everything’s at a slow spin, as Will mellows out to a speed that can be registered on a mortal odometer. With less wind whipping all over, Nico can actually hear him.

“Better than a flying chariot?”

Nico grins. “Definitely.”

“Another great thing about this is that it has a CD player. Two-nothing for the sad hunk of wood.”

By great thing Will of course means the same four songs I’ve been obsessed with for a month playing over and over and over until you are ready to launch yourself off the bike and join the dead raccoon at the side of the road, but that still doesn’t manage to ruin it. Something about driving top speeds in the early spring air makes it hard to be annoyed about annoying.

(Or maybe it’s the way Nico can feel Will’s muscles shift every time he moves, or how he winks every time he catches Nico’s eye in the mirrors, or the lowkey kind of sinful the way he straddles the seat. But Nico is quite happy sharing a name with a river in Egypt, so he ignores these fun facts and continues to delude himself, an art in which he is become quite wondrously skilled.)

Somewhere between Jersey and Delaware, the traffic picks up again, so Will shouts for him to hold on and cranks up the speed. Nico clenches tightly around his waist, squeezing his eyes shut, this time, and listens to the roar of air as they shove through it fast enough to rival sound. When they’re drifting, again, Nico can feel an incline, and looks up just in time to watch Will exit off the highway.

“Are we here already?” he shouts, incredulous. He knows his ADHD makes him bad with time, but jeez — it can’t have been more than an hour, an hour and a half.

“Not yet,” Will says, barely having to raise his voice as they come to a stop, heel of his boot clicking on the pavement. He checks both ways and then, once nothing comes around the bend, pushes off and guides them down a winding back road, tipping around curves and speeding down hills. Nico’s stomach bottoms out every drop, and he can’t clamp down the giggle that pushes out his throat, as ridiculous as it is. Luckily, Will’s giggling, too.

In a few minutes, they pull up to an old, rusted gas station, with signs so old they’re hand-painted. Will kills the engine and flicks out the kickstand, pulling off his helmet and shaking out his hair. It’s such a tangled mess that Nico can’t help but reach out and tug on a lopsided curl.

“I didn’t think this thing needed gas.”

“It doesn’t!” He pats a dark piece of glass in between the handlebars. “It’s solar-powered. But I figured you could use a minute to stretch your legs, and frankly, if I don’t eat something soon I genuinely might cook you.”

“You forgot to eat today, didn’t you.”

“…No.”

As soon as he speaks, his eyes start to water. His throat swells. He holds his breath for a noble four seconds, and then starts wheezing.

Nico sighs heavily. “Dumbass.”

Hauling him upright by the collar, Nico drags him towards the little corner store. This, at least, is familiar. Will gets caught up in his work easily, and forgets to do things like eat or move or, on one particularly amusing occasion, breathe. (Just tipped right over, one day, onto the floor, mid-poultice. There is a chip on the side of the stone mortar to this day. Nico, Will’s other friends, and his siblings take shifts bringing it up to dunk on him properly. Last he checked, Lou Ellen commissioned Jake Mason to make a plaque to hang on the infirmary wall, memorializing the incident forever.)

“C’mon, stupid. Let’s get you a sandwich. And Benadryl.”

“I’m honestly fine,” Will wheezes, cheeks swelling slightly.

“Stop talking,” Nico orders. “You’re making it worse.”

Wisely, Will clamps up. That, or his throat is starting to close. Either is likely.

His stubborn determination to continue lying despite being literally allergic to it would be impressive, if it wasn’t so irritating.

A little bell rings by the door when Nico pushes it open, making the person sitting behind the counter look up.

“Ah,” they say sagely, folding up their newspaper. “Demigods.”

Immediately, Nico’s on alert. Before he can draw his sword, though, Will lifts a hive-spotted hand in a wave.

“Hey, Berchio,” he croaks.

The person at the counter — Berchio — smiles ruefully.

“Benadryl?”

Nico nods hesitantly, still a little wary at the stranger, but Will is starting to keen over, now, and Nico didn’t think to bring an Epi-Pen (since the allergy is totally avoidable, William, you are your own worst enemy), so he’s running out of options. “Please.”

Chuckling to themself, Berchio ruffles around a shelf by the checkout counter, locating the familiar bottle after a minute — Will gets himself into these situations a lot, he has a serious twizzler problem and should consider getting his own stash instead of lifting it from the Hermes cabin and then lying about where it went — and rolling towards them. The spokes of their wheelchair have little skull charms on them that make a pleasant tinkling noise as they spin, making Nico trust them instantly. He should get Chiron wheel beads. That’s sick as hell.

“Here, kid. Drink water, too, you’re going to dry yourself out.”

Will garbles out a thank you, choking down the medicine. As all meds do with Apollo’s children, lucky bastards that they are, it works quickly, and in minutes he’s breathing right again.

“Gods, I love oxygen.”

“You are a human disaster,” Nico informs him. “Like, hugely.”

Will takes a sip of his water, pondering that. “Is that more embarrassing for you, or for me?”

“Why the hell would it be embarrassing for me?”

“Well, since you like me so much.” Nico chokes. “I might be a disaster, but at least I don’t have a crush on one.”

“All this wheezing,” Berchio sighs. “This must be Nico?”

“The one and only,” Will says cheerfully. He reaches out and touches a warm hand to Nico’s throat, immediately clearing his airways. Now no longer struggling for breath, Nico darts out and punches him, hard, on the arm.

“Ow! Meanie!”

“You are such a derp-faced dweeb,” Nico hisses, fully aware he’s red in the face. “Why are you — why are you this way.”

“I’m gonna tell Chiron you were bullying me!”

“Tell him! I’ll tell him you were the one to sprinkle instant mashed potatoes all over the grass before it rained, not Cecil!”

Will snaps his mouth shut. “I told you that in confidence.”

Nico smiles smugly. “Well, that’s on you. My loyalties are about as secure as my parent’s relationship.”

“If you two are finished flirting,” interrupts an amused voice, making both of them jump. Berchio watches them with their arms crossed, eyebrow raised in a similar chiding way to Chiron last time he caught Nico attempting to sneak an entire tray of brownies from the kitchen (mark his words — as soon as he can shadow travel again, no other camper will be seeing a brownie as long as they shall live). They shake their head, tutting exaggeratedly. “My, my, Will, I’m beginning to understand why you mentioned him every time you opened your mouth. I figured you liked him, but this is ridiculous.”

For once, Will is the one to flush crimson. He stutters something entirely incomprehensible, gesturing vaguely towards Berchio, and then frantically towards Nico, and finally squawks something about trust and the breaching of it. He goes red to the very roots of his hair, clamping his own mouth shut mid-sentence and scowling something awful.

Suddenly, Nico gets it. This is why no one ever leaves him alone. Oh, he is loathe to give the assholes he’s friends with credit, but…

When does he ever get to see Will — confident, easy Will — go scarlet?

“So you like me,” he says, shit eating grin stretching across his face. “Oh ho ho ho.”

“Oh, shut up,” Will snaps, without any heat. “Last time we played volleyball you got a concussion ‘cause you couldn’t stop staring at my chest and took a ball to the face.”

“That — it was — that hit was malicious,” he sputters. “And how is it my fault you’re always ditching your shirt at the first available opportunity like some kind of whore? I couldn’t not look!”

“Avert your eyes, then, scoundrel!”

“I — don’t call me a scoundrel! You’re a scoundrel!”

“You’re both late, is what you are,” Berchio interrupts again. “Will, I assume you’re running an errand?”

Still a little flushed, Will nods. “Yes. Thanks, Berchio. We’re picking up parts in Roanoke, I just stopped for some food.”

“He forgot to eat this morning,” Nico pipes up. He figures that Berchio seems comfortable enough with Will that they can act as a disappointed authority figure, which will make Mr. Daddy Issues Solace crumple like a castle built on a pillar of sand — he needs the humbling. (Also, Nico will get him on a healthier track or die trying. It’s not fair that he gets to be a big hypocrite about good diet and eating and sleeping habits and then turn around and act a fool. Someone needs to watch out for the idiot, or he’s going to get himself killed, and then Nico is going to have to spend the rest of his life in the Underworld, yelling at him.)

“William.”

Nico’s theory is proven correct. Berchio stares at Will with the perfect mix of disappointment and concern, immediately triggering the scramble-to-please expression on Will’s face. He practically stumbles over himself trying to follow after him and get fed.

“Are you happy with a sandwich, Nico? I know Will’ll eat anything that even remotely looks like food, but most of us have standards,” they tease.

Nico snorts at Will’s offended pout. “Yeah, a sandwich is more than fine. Thanks, Berchio.”

After handing them both a sandwich they pull from one of the many fridges in the little convenience store, they guide them outside, parking their wheelchair next to the curb they sit on and joining them in a little picnic.

“So how do you know each other?” Nico asks, gesturing between the two of them.

Will answers first, because Berchio, who is a polite person with manners, takes the time to swallow their food.

“I stop here all the time,” he says, garbled, making both Nico and Berchio wince. Nico takes the initiative to kick him.

“Stop being disgusting and explain yourself without showing off the contents of your mouth,” Nico threatens, “or I’m going to stab you again.”

Will swallows, sticks out his tongue, and continues.

“First time I used the bike, I got it into my head that I should go visit my mom. Would’ve been fine, except I was thirteen and hadn’t been outside of camp in six years and got chased by a pack of empousai the second I left the city, basically.”

“I was collecting herbs and sensed him coming,” Berchio explains. “He crossed the borders I have set up; I hid him here. Now he stops by whenever he’s travelling to chat.” Berchio smiles warmly. “I appreciate the company.”

Will grins back. “Me too! Plus, I very much appreciate the herb exchange. Speaking of which, I have your goldenrod.”

He digs into his jeans pocket, pulling out a bundle. He hands it over to Berchio, who accepts it gratefully, handing over their own bundle to Will.

“And your witch hazel.”

“Berchio’s an Ipotane,” Will explains, catching sight of Nico’s furrowed brow. “They’ve been doing this healing stuff for centuries. They’re real good with salves.”

Nico shakes his head fondly. “Even when you’re being cool, you’re a nerd.” He gestures to the bike. “Taking your secret motorcycle to visit your secret mentor to learn more about healing. Gods, it’s like Apollo made you in a lab.”

“You take that back! I contain multitudes!”

“And now you’re quoting famous poems, dear gods, try to prove my point better, why don’t you —”

“Blah blah blah!”

Nico grins at him, rolling his eyes, and Will is just as playfully dramatic with his bit lip and hidden smile and the hair he tucks behind his ear like he does when he wants to touch somebody but isn’t sure if it’s invited. Nico answers the question for him, reaching out and flicking his knuckles as an excuse to touch his hands. Will takes it, beaming.

“Thank you for the food, Berchio,” Will says when they finish, leaning down to hug them. “We gotta get going, but I’ll be back in a couple weeks. I had a dream about an outbreak, so no doubt the infirmary will need restocked soon.”

“Bring your boyfriend next time,” Berchio suggests, grinning when Nico goes red at the term. “Watching the two of you was not unlike one of Sterne’s famous productions.”

“I take offence to that,” Will says haughtily.

“Good. You needed humbling.”

“Nobody appreciates me around here!”

Nico bites back the I do that threatens to escape his throat. Gods, he’s so embarrassing. Whoever taught him how to speak should have to pay for their crimes.

They head back to the bike, waving goodbye to the Ipotane and speeding off. The drive the rest of the way down south is much calmer, bellies full and energy somewhat spent, and it helps that there’s no traffic. Will cruises, keeping time with the sun that’s inching across the sky, ignoring Nico’s suggestion to attempt to race his dad. They arrive in Roanoke in good time, following Nyssa’s scrawled directions to the parts shop.

The shop is old, visibly, paint peeling and smelling strongly of car grease. As Nysa predicted, the person they speak to — a mechanic, by the look of her jumpsuit — doesn’t ask so much as a single question at the two teenagers rolling up to her doorstep, heading to the greasy shelves of car parts and grabbing what they need with a shrug.

“Well,” says Will slowly as she piles them on the counter, “that’s…more than I anticipated.”

Nico looks at the stack of twisted metal. He looks at the bike. Finally, he looks at his dumbass friend.

“Solace.”

Will scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah?”

“Solace, tell me you have space to put this stuff.”

“Well, we can try the seat compartment?”

Nico buries his head in his hands. “Solace.”

“What!”

“You know what, lughead! We cannot do the one thing we came here to do! Gods!”

“I usually go on supply runs for the infirmary, okay!” Will cries. “That stuff is way less bulky! I forgot to compensate!”

Nico groans. At this point, they’re going to have to bus back, or something equally as stupid. And what are they gonna do with the bike? Gods, if Nico was here by himself and also maybe possibly with Reyna, who could share her strength, he’d just —

He stills.

“Oh, no,” Will says, pointing a stern finger, “oh, no, di Angelo, I know that look, you have been expressly banned —”

“Relax,” Nico grumbles. “Don’t you trust me?”

“With everything,” Will says automatically, then flushes for the second time that day. “But that is not the point —”

Deciding he will return to that later — and he most certainly will — Nico darts forward. Before Will can stop him, he puts both hands on the pile of parts, lunges towards the nearest shadow, and shoved them in, withdrawing as quickly as he can manage.

“Nico!”

He waits.

“Oh, you fuckin’ — you goddamn son of a mother!”

He checks his hands — still solid.

“I am going to smash you flat an’ feed you through a goddamn juicer! You fuckin’ heart-stopper!”

He grins. “I told you I could do some Underworld magic.”

“Underworld deez fuckin’ nuts!” Will stomps forward, grabbing Nico’s hands to do his own inspection. “What part of doctor’s orders are you missin’, huh? You think I wanna watch you fade again? You think I wanna —” His voice cracks, hands tightening around Nico’s wrists. Nico softens immediately, smug look melting into something gentler.

“Will.”

“You coulda died, Nico, you coulda faded to — to nothin’.”

“Will.” He flips his hands so his palms meet Will’s, and squeezes, smiling gently. “Feel my vitals, dork. Am I fading?”

Will exhales. “No.”

“Am I close?”

“…No.”

He squeezes again. “I’m fine, Will.”

“You scared me.” The anger in his voice has faded into something soft — something afraid. Suddenly the hands on his wrists feel more clingy than anything, and a twinge of guilt goes off in Nico’s stomach.

“I’m sorry.” He squeezes Will’s hands one last time, and when that doesn’t do much, lets go to wrap around his cheeks, instead, forcing him to meet his eyes. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I don’t mean to restrict you,” Will says softly. “It’s just — I worry, is all.”

Nico taps their foreheads together, smile pulling at his face. This, he can — this he can deal with. This version of Will, soft and nervous and caring, makes it a lot easier to slide his fingers into the mess of Will’s curls, to run his thumbs over his cheekbones and feel him shiver.

“Would that have anything to do with the alleged crush you have on me?”

Will grins. “It might.” One of his hands comes up to rest on top of Nico’s, brushing over his knuckles. “All your moonin’ after me had me looking twice, I guess.”

“You’re such a dick,” Nico scoffs, and yanks him down to meet him in the middle, laughing, swallowing his smile and relishing in the warm press of their bodies. It’s — gods, it’s everything, it’s a thousand times better than he imagined, and at the same time everything he expected. Will smells like wind and sunshine and his lavender shampoo, and his hands are roughened from all the antiseptic he has to use, and his lips are surprisingly chapped, but the press of his cheeks is soft, and the feel of him is overwhelming. It feels, as cliche as it is, like the final burst of a firework after watching the smokey trail of the rocket with bated breath, watching it crest the night sky before exploding, finally, amongst the stars, it’s like —

A cleared throat startled them apart.

“Anytime y’all feel like paying for those parts, it would be great.”

Will grins sheepishly. “Sorry,” he says, pulling out the money Chiron gave him. His grin turns sly, and Nico’s knees turn to jelly. “My boyfriend’s just super distracting.”

[michverdun]

He tried to keep his composure as the photographer took his picture, but it was wearing thin. He struggled to think of anything besides the sensation of his own fully pumped muscles rubbing against each other, as his shoulder brushed against his neck, and his bicep pushed against his pec. He tensed his arms slightly, just to feel the muscle swell with the slightest movements.

It wasn't enough for him. He wanted to feel his pecs swell with so much mass that he could feel the stubble on his chin with them, his arms grow with muscle until they couldn't fully lay down at his sides. Two pillars of beef with hundreds of pounds on each arm, more than some guys would have in their entire lives, but it wouldn't be enough for him. He'd grow and grow until--

His horny thoughts were derailed by a sharp screeching sound in his right ear. He turned and saw that in his daydreaming he had bent the metal pole of the cable machine, his handprint clearly wrapped around the crushed pole. He looked down to see that his other hand had started to grope his massive bulge. Whoops.

He stammered on an apology, still groping his own balls when he saw the photographer take another pic.He guessed then that they weren't just looking for photos of his physique.

[scarybabe]

Thank you so much for being open about your strong fat journey!! It looks amazing on you!!

Would you be open to sharing a sample week workout write up, or some other reference tips to create a routine? As a fellow gainer girl it would be great to have a reference that works for my body type, and I love your results!

Forgive me if you’ve already shared this, or stated that you don’t want to (if that’s the case just delete the ask)

You’re a wonderful voice in the community, thank you so much for doing all you do!!

Ahh thank you!! I do have a weightlifting coach, she makes my workout plans every day but I can share my nutrition plans + my usual mobility stretches - this makes a huge difference since I was starting from being a couch potato 💕

Nutrition- 3 meals with at least 30-40g of protein each meal and minimum 2,700 calories but more is good! I like the chocolate mutant mass protein powder and put unflavored collagen peptides in everything. At least 100oz of water every day

Mobility stretches (look these up) - 12 reps of Cat Cow, Superman Arm Sweeps. 10 reps of Dynamic Thread the Needle (on each side), Kneeling Hip CARS (each side), 90/90 Hip Shifts ** my mobility stretches change slightly depending on what area I’m working out

At the gym - 4 x 6-10 reps deadlift on smith machine, 3 x 6-12 dumbbell hammer curls, 3 x 8-12 dumbbell Romanian deadlifts (RDLs), 3 x 6-12 cable machine lat pulldown, 2 x 15 each side mini band standing glute hyperextension (one foot on a riser while the other leg extends), 2 x 20 hip abductions (usually there’s a machine for these)

If you’re new to lifting the first number is the number of sets - take a minute to rest between sets or even a bit longer if needed. Second number is the range of reps you do. When researching these I would look up the right tempo for eccentric/concentric muscle contractions because that can really maximize the efficacy. I usually do a practice set with as little weight as possible before the actual set of each new exercise to make sure my form is good, bad form can cause sprains, imbalances or soreness.

I finish my weightlifting with some cooldown stretches - today it’s 60 secof wide leg oblique stretching, 60 sec childs pose lat stretch, 60 sec prone cross over leg glute stretch

~~~~~

Monday - Friday I rotate through different muscle groups so I just shared my Monday routine (pull day!) and my coach tailors it to my personal goals as well. There’s a lot of good weightlifting programs online for free! I don’t do an ounce of cardio either, only strength training.

Thank you for your kind words, I hope this sparks interest in anyone else who may wanna try getting strong. I have a membership to a cheap 24/7 local gym because when I first started I was kinda shy to be watched as I figured out my form and all that 🤣 places like that are good for beginners

[betterthana-six]

| MUSIC TO MY EARS - [ABBY ANDERSON] - CHAPTER THREE |

PAIRINGS: stoic!rugby player abby x musician fem!reader

SUMMARY: you and your new(ish) college roommate, Abby Anderson, have gotten into an argument. about what? unclear at the moment. but it's got Abby in a fit of shame. until late one night she hears you outside with someone whose voice she doesn't recognize and listens in.

WARNINGS: heyooo we are so fucking back! AND LOOKIE AT THAT TAG LIST AHHH THANK YOU FOR THE AMAZING RECEPTION SO FAR!!!! LOVE YOU ALL. im having so much fun writing this and watching this story spiral into absolute chaos. im honestly just trying to see how big i can make this story. much more pining this chapter but ooh girl we are getting sexier as we go, trust the process. mdni DUH. ive been wanting to write a pool scene. abby sure be falling in love. let me know if you guys are liking the structure so far, its pretty predictable. abby is snarkier and snarkier, but im always nervous to stay true to her character. let me know what yall like, and even mid story I am open to suggestions or if youre like that or this part wasnt fully fleshed out, why not let me know? im down. k have fun. bye. ALSO: i have a playlist brewing for this story. comment if you want it and ill post.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Music To My Ears: Chapter 3

.・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。.

There are tears drying on your chin when Abby abruptly stands up, pulling you up with her, towel still wrapped over your arms. 

She starts pulling clothes out of the depths of her closet and throwing them onto your bed.

“What are you doing?” You sniffle. 

“Put these on.”

“Your clothes won’t fit me. You have something called muscle mass.”

Abby let out a small snicker. ���They’re from when I was, like, sixteen. They’ll fit,” she said.

“I have my own clothes, you know,” You gesture to your side of the room. “They’re actually about five feet away from me.”

“You’ll understand when we get there why I’m giving you my old clothes.”

“Are we hiking?”

“You hush.”

“Oh my god, is it paintball?”

“Yeah,” she says. “It’s paintball. The 24-hour paintball park is awaiting our arrival as we speak. How’d you guess?”

You smirk bashfully. “I’ll only put them on if you tell me what we’re doing.”

She plants herself a foot in front of you and tilts her head down. “You’re no fun.” She shoves one of her rugby sweatshirts into your stomach. “Let’s have fun. Actual fun. Come on, it’s the weekend for fuck’s sake. I just… I know a place.”

You lower the towel like a shawl around your elbows and walk over to your bed, as Abby’s eyes follow you. Seeing her, you jut your jaw out at her, waving your index finger in a circle. Abby's response was a bit delayed, she catches her eyes getting lost on your silhouette again, and struts slowly around to face her side. 

You sigh and put the clothes on. The feeling of warmth from the dry clothes covers your body with a chill and you’re nearly sedated with comfort. While Abby is still turned away, you bring the sleeve of her hoodie up to your nose and smell it as quietly as you could. 

“I’m ready,” you say.

Abby opens the door out to the hallway. Nobody’s out there. It’s nearly 1 am.

You still look both ways nervously, and Abby notes it, but neither of you say anything. She guides you down the hallway, the sound of her keys jangling against her thigh, hanging from the carabiner locked around her belt loop. She is sure to keep you close to her. Each time you sway or stumble a bit, she grabs your wrist and holds you up. Though, of course, you put a hand up every time to insist that you’re fine. 

You are still drunk. It is indeed still obvious. 

Abby turns a corner and halts the journey in front of a vending machine which blares with light in its dark corner. “Hold up, one second,” she says, as she inserts a dollar, some coins from her pocket, presses B7, grabs it from the bottom, takes your hand and puts the candy in it.

“Twix is my favorite,” you say.

“I know,” Abby says.

“You know?”

She hesitates and runs a shy hand over the back of her neck under her long braid. “I see wrappers in our trash sometimes.”

You pause with suspicious eyes. 

Abby gives a small laugh and looks away. “Whatever. Eat.”

You bite and it is as forgiving on your stomach as any midnight candy bar can be, especially after the amount of alcohol it's following.

Now, Abby pulls your hand from three paces ahead of you. She seems restless, happily so, in a way you had rarely seen her. Maybe only once or twice in hindsight.

You are already out the doors of your building and into the cool air of early spring. It is almost completely dark but the moon lights the pale sidewalk visibly enough. Once your eyes fully adjust, you can see Abby. Her braid swings back and forth across her back. 

After a ten minute walk through the main circle of campus, Abby takes one of the keys from her hip and opens the entrance of your school’s gym.

She checks your demeanor, and you meet her with a wide-eyed face that says: what the fuck?

“Just trust me,” she says and grabs your hand again, guiding you through the dark corridors and up the stairs, past the treadmills and weight machines. 

As you approach the top, a blue haze lights Abby’s face and then yours. It’s very quiet up there in the announcer’s box, and it looks down onto the college’s Olympic sized swimming pool. You’d only ever seen it from the doors on the bottom level. You remember the first time. People were splashing about in the water but it didn’t ruin the illusion for you. The smell of chlorine. The warm humidity that threatened its way out onto you. You, who stood firmly in the air conditioned hall, pleasantly zoned out on the swimmers.

Even from behind, Abby seems so eager to fulfill her spontaneous promise of a good time. A small smile grows on her face every now and then. You become very aware of your hand in hers. Hers is gruff and big and warm, her thumb securing around your fingers messily. It’s possible you merely imagine the vibration in the space between your palms. Her touch reignites the bliss of your drunkenness, and, again, you feel light on your feet. 

Abby pulls out a key and inserts it into the keyhole for a discreet door. It leads the two of you down two flights of stairs into a locker room with fresh towels piled up into neat stacks. She throws one at you: “Here.”

“No way,” you say. You realize you were so carried away you only now realized what she had brought you here to do.

“I didn’t bring you here for us not to swim.”

You smile big. “Oh, fuck yeah.”

“I knew it would cheer you up.” Abby laughs. 

“Wait,” you think, “someone’s gonna be here. We’re gonna get kicked out.”

“No, we’re not,” she reassures, “I’m friends with the rec team. I asked for the after hours key so I can workout at night. I guess I just forgot to give them back.”

You look at her a little confused, moreso disbelieving. 

“No, really, I swear. Sometimes it’s nice to de-stress at night. Let off a little steam when no one’s around,” Abby says. You smirk and lift her sweatshirt over your head, revealing the light blue tank top Abby had given you.

“Don’t I know it,” you say under your breath.

“Oh?” Abby says. 

“You think I don’t notice when you don’t come back to the dorm until 5 am?” You say with a cocky tone. 

Then, she, too, pulls her sweater off. She was only wearing a thin bra and boxers. You were surprised she wore anything under it at all, given her track record. You quickly note the way you don’t squirm or turn away. Perhaps it’s just a matter of familiarity - you have been roommates for three months now - or, maybe, it’s the way she’s looking at you in this moment. “You notice?” 

The sudden turn of the question makes you stutter.

“I- I mean, the once or twice it's happened. Obviously.”

Instead of laughing at you this time, Abby just stands and looks at you thoughtfully. Intensely. 

“Whatever. Yeah, that was…” she finally says, shaking her head, with a twinge of something shadowing her tone and preventing her from finishing her sentence.  

The both of you have changed completely into her clothes, the clothes she didn’t think twice about letting you ruin with chlorine. You save her from whatever she didn’t want to say. “You could’ve at least told me to bring a swimsuit…” You say. 

“Yeah, well, it would’ve spoiled the surprise,” Abby says.

At the door leading to the pool, Abby turns back suddenly, stopping before speaking.

“Okay, listen. This is a sacred rite. No one besides me, and now you, has access to this place. No one knows I have the keys, and it needs to stay that way.” 

You nod. “Makes sense.”

“Because this will be really fucking fun.”

“Understood.”

“And, I’m showing it to you because you’re having a shitty, no-good night.”

You hold a salute up to your forehead. “Captain, I won't let you down.”

She rolls her eyes to your delight. “Come on.”

You find her hand in yours again. You can’t help but marvel at how natural it was - not because you are surprised - just because it still sends a shiver running down your spine.

The smell of chlorine washes over you and you breathe deep, closing your eyes and feeling the damp air warming your skin. Abby’s in front of you, hooking her phone up to a wire and resting it on the ledge of the spectator window. The speakers overhead start playing music. 

“Holy shit,” you say, looking at her with amazement and pointing up to the ceiling. The Rolling Stones' “She’s A Rainbow” rings out over the speakers and fills the space completely. A smile creeps onto your face, and once it’s there, it’s stuck. 

“How’d I do?” She asks.

You don’t answer but smile at your feet. You walk past her towards the edge of the concrete, sparing a devilish smirk her way right when your shoulders nearly graze each other. Only the pool lights are on, making the whole place shine with the blue dancing patterns of the water ripples. It reflects onto your face, and, when you look back at Abby, she is staring at you.

“You coming?” You ask. 

And Abby eyes dart away in shock, feeling scandalized and taking what you said entirely out of context. She can’t help it; a semblance of those words have been echoing in her head for the last three months, more or less. Jolting her awake from her dreams. Both sleeping and conscious. 

.・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。.

The first dream happened about three weeks into living together.

Since that conversation in your room on your first night, neither of you tried to initiate conversation deeper than small talk. The explosive end to that night left you reluctant to speak to her at all and left Abby anxious to say the wrong thing. 

It was the beginning of the semester, anyway. Abby had a routine to establish and you were busy finding the right buildings around campus, keeping your head down, and practicing guitar. 

You hadn’t been able to anticipate her comings and goings. Mostly Abby left for her day without saying a word and came back in the same manner. When she returned in the evenings, you quickly traded the guitar on your lap for earphones while Abby read silently only feet away.

"You can keep playing, I don't mind" is the only thing Abby would sometimes say. "No, it's okay. I should probably just use the practice rooms anyway," was your usual response, if you said anything at all.

The first dream happened when Abby took an impromptu nap in the early afternoon while you were out.

Her dreams involved many strange things she could never comprehend and typically forgot soon after she woke. Yet, toward the end of this dream, she saw nothing but your face, eyes softly closed, there between her legs. It was no in-depth scene. No words. No kissing. Just you, licking a line from her knee up the skin of her inner thigh. 

Abby woke up with a gasp. She looked down to find there was wetness between her thighs, and momentarily she couldn’t distinguish what was and wasn’t real. She was almost convinced that you really were somewhere near, that somehow you had been there between her legs just a moment ago. But, the room was empty and the wetness had come from Abby, herself, of course. 

She found her hand was there, too, under her boxers, to meet her body with stiff, soaked fingers.

She laid there, staring at the ceiling, unsure of what to make of it, still hypnotized in her exhaustion.

She didn’t think about it. Abby began moving her fingers around in circles, her other hand placed on the top of her head, bottom lip tucked slightly under her front teeth. 

She closed her eyes and, without realizing, tried to prolong the feeling that seemed so real only moments ago. 

You popped into her mind. She quickened her pace.

There was something so indulgent about the image she had. It felt dirty. Naughty ideations of her own roommate was something she knew she’d feel guilty about later, a secret that could never be shared. She didn’t know where it had come from specifically, this need for you, but, honestly, she didn’t even try to interrogate it. She just exhaled hard through her nose as she tried to picture you more vividly. 

“Fuck…” She whispered to herself. The feeling built and built and she gripped onto her blanket, breathing hard. 

Just then, the key to your door started jangling. 

Abby stopped immediately, yanked out of her dream and her tiredness altogether. She pulled up the slightly pulled down pants and sat up. She grabbed the book off her desk, opened it to a random page and pretended to be lost in the story by the time you opened the door and walked inside.

She had startled you. 

“Oh, hey,” you said. 

Abby looked up over the page. “Hey.”

“I forgot I need these for my next class,” you explain while gathering two books from your desk and shoving them into your backpack.

“Hm,” she said, feigning disinterest.

You zipped up and turned to leave. “Alright. See you later,” you said but met Abby’s eyes which were already on you. You turned back. “Are you okay?” You asked.

“I’m fine. Why?”

“Oh, nothing, your face is all red.”

Abby just shrugged, at a complete loss for words.

“Okay,” you said without a second thought. “Well, bye.”

“Bye.”

Once you were gone, Abby tossed the book, turned over onto her stomach, and buried her head beneath her pillow. 

.・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。.

The dreams, however, only got worse from there. Abby started waking up from dreams with her hand down her pants more often than not and, by morning, they delivered her a head full of thoughts she could barely acknowledge to herself. Dreams of you sitting in her lap, dreams of her fingers in your mouth, dreams of you panting into her ear. She had visions of what you’d look like astride her hips with a smile on your face. Impossible dreams of you seducing her in huge hot tubs, or at fancy dinners with her hand squeezing tight around your thigh under a tablecloth, a gala where you both get locked in the coat closet with nothing but time to kill. These dreams consumed her until late in the day.

If there was one thing Abby promised herself she wouldn’t do is fall in love with a straight girl. Especially her roommate, who she presumed kind of hated her. This new energy you brought to her made her so vulnerable in the dark hours of the night, she felt she had to release it before she got in too deep. 

So, she tried the gym. She started lifting uncharacteristically heavier. She started lifting until failure, until she had completely obliterated her muscles. Her teammates applauded her for her hard work, if only they knew the real reason for the fire lit under her ass.

It helped some. More like distracted her. But she knew the craving hadn’t fully subsided. It only took an hour for it to re-emerge. Sooner if she saw you walking to class or if you tried to spark conversation in the dorm, which was rare but nonetheless excited Abby when it did happen.

One time when you were both getting ready for bed, you turned to Abby and broke the silence.

“Hey, I was wondering…”

“What’s up?” Abby responded. The eagerness with which she asked was out of her control. 

“I, um, well, do you think you could show me around the gym sometime? I didn’t get to see it when I toured, and it’s so big. I’m honestly kind of intimidated-”

“Yes, yeah,” Abby said.

“Cool,” you nodded. “Thank you.”

A moment of silence passed. Abby’s heart raced with the prospect of getting to talk to you so much. Guide you around and show you the place. But in a second, she thought better of it. She needed to contain herself someway or another. 

“Yeah,” Abby continued. “They’ve got a great yoga studio, you know. One has classes and the other one is free for students to use anytime.”

You scoffed. Abby’s face was intentionally blank, waiting to see your reaction.

“Of course,” you said. “Of course, you assume I’d just want to do yoga.”

“I figure you’d want to see it.”

“Okay, well could you just show me the whole gym?”

“Yeah,” Abby said, recoiling from you a bit. She pushed through, wondered if perhaps she could make this worse for herself. Worsening the relationship could force the unwanted thoughts about you to subside entirely. “Sorry. You don’t strike me as a weightlifter.” 

You stopped and looked sharply her way.

“Okay. Forget I asked. I’ll find someone else.”

Just like that, another failed attempt at conversation was over. Her self-sabotage felt far less productive than she thought it would feel. All Abby felt was stupid. Her heart sank lower in her chest.

.・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。.

Soon she became so scared of her sleeping self, worried that you'd hear her sleep talking your name or, dear god, catch her fucking herself while she dreamt about eating you out in the quiet section of a library. The idea was so mortifying to her that she nearly couldn’t sleep with you in the room at all, which was every night. 

She grew anxious, unable to control herself and unable to sleep. Practice became lackluster. Lifting felt ineffectual. Still, she knew she couldn’t let the levee break. She needed respite in any form and, eventually, Abby realized she was desperate. 

One day before rugby practice, she texted Nora, a girl Abby fucked on and off for a majority of her freshman year. Abby liked Nora because she was as impersonal about hooking up as Abby was. It was a clean-cut fuck buddy deal she knew she could rely on if she wanted.

The next Thursday, Nora took Abby in like an old friend. She sat her down and opened a bottle of wine, performed the pleasantries of simple conversation, caught up with school and sports and life, and eventually led Abby to the bedroom.

They knew what they were there to do.

In a blur, Abby found her arms wrapped around Nora's lower back as she pressed her face flesh to Nora's chest, guiding her through a sweaty orgasm which seemed satisfactory. 

When Nora tried to return the favor, Abby was completely dry. 

She had been mentally elsewhere since the moment she knocked on the door. 

She played it off as just being out of it, just wanting to please Nora that night. So, Abby haphazardly thanked her for the wine, as it was really the only thing Nora could give Abby that night besides for a spacious bed outside of the dorms, and they went to sleep.

But Abby could only stare up at the ceiling as Nora breathed heavily beside her in a deep sleep. 

She decided to walk back to the dorm. It was early and the sun was just starting to light up the sky. You were asleep, and when Abby closed the door, you sprawled out in your bed, strands of hair curled and scattered messily around your face. She watched you sleep for a second, feeling gross and cold and wired. She still couldn’t sleep, so she turned on her desk lamp and read in an attempt to forget her last two or three decisions.

When the sun was finally up, you turned over in your bed and pushed your covers down to your feet, stretching out until your hands hit the headboard. You saw Abby was already up, only reading in bed as you often found her.

“No gym today?” You yawned.

Abby looked over at you and just shook her head. 

“You look tired.”

“Good morning to you, too,” Abby said.

You nodded, grabbed your toiletry bag, and left. 

Half of Abby convinced herself you knew what she’d been doing the night before, which only made her feel dirtier. Moreover she believed that even if you knew, in agreement with how she wanted to keep things, you were totally indifferent.

.・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。.

Abby’s logic wasn’t flawless. She thought she had been doing all the right things. She fucked it out of her system, as far as she was concerned, so after that she got right back into the swing of her routine. All excess feelings would surely go away. The dreams would stop. 

Yet, a week later, it was your face she saw through vertically moving weights, walking through the gym’s hallways that made Abby nearly drop the weights she had raised over her head. 

A blonde girl was walking with you. You seemed disinterested. 

Her name was Carol and she was another classical guitar major. She was the best in your music theory class and you clung to her when you realized not only was she a talented sight reader but she had the most lifeless and dull nature of anyone you had ever met. She was the exact friend you had hoped to meet.

She had also offered to show you around the gym when you asked. Admittedly, you didn’t need someone to tour guide you through the gym. You just didn’t want to go alone. 

Carol talked at you in great detail about the gym’s hours, what kinds of people one might find in certain areas, and how she tried pickleball once but couldn’t stand the instructor’s “overly-excited” approach to teaching.

You zoned out, clutched onto the straps of your backpack, and looked around at the gym. There were so many levels. A big hole in the wall right by the entrance that showcased the basketball courts, two yoga studios hidden around a corner on the second floor, the track that outlined the upper level, and, of course, the massive weightlifting section next to it. You tried to look away from it when Carol walked you past it just in case.

When she had taken you through most of it all, you stopped at the sight of double doors with small windows you could barely see through. 

“Is that the pool?” You asked, but you were already walking away by the time Carol could answer. 

You gazed eagerly at the swimmers who glided across the lap lanes with ease. There were sounds of whistles and people yelling out times. 

“Can anyone swim here or is it just for the swim team?” You asked and no one answered. 

You looked briefly behind you. Carol was gone. But, truthfully you didn’t care enough to go after her and continued staring at the splashes and glistening bodies in swimsuits, caps bobbing in and out of the water. The smell of the chlorine was so nostalgic. You let yourself breathe in and out, taking it all in, closing your eyes.

“It's just for the swim team, usually,” a voice said right behind you.

You jumped and turned to see who was inches away from you, closing you into the door behind you.

You exhaled. “Abby.”

“You swim?” She ignored your shock.

“Not, like, for exercise.”

“Hm,” Abby responded. “So, what are you doing here then?”

“Getting the tour I requested.”

“Yeah. From Carol, who’s never actually been here before.”

You momentarily look around for Carol but assume she must have left. You wonder how Abby even knew she was with you.

“Hey, she took a very riveting pickleball class here and has much to say about it,” you said. 

Abby smirked and moved from her close proximity to the space next to you. You both stayed there for a moment, just watching.

“She seems like a lot of fun.”

“She is,” you said a bit indignantly.

“I bet,” Abby said. “I had her in my Intro to College course last year. She’s very… organized?”

You sighed, eyes still fixed on the swim team. “Yeah, she’s kind of awful.” 

Abby couldn’t contain a laugh and you laughed with her. Out of all your conversations where she seemed to get on every one of your nerves, you were always kind to her. You turned away from the doors and Abby followed alongside as you walked together. 

“So,” Abby said, “why are you friends with her then?”

“She’s very smart. She’s nice enough.”

“Your standards for friendship are pretty low. No offense.” Abby swallowed at the thought of you taking offense. Of her taking it too far again. But this time you conceded.

“You could say that. I guess I like laying low.”

“Yeah, I see that. I can’t figure out why though.” You looked up at Abby to see if she’s fucking with you again but she looked genuine. It softened you. “I think you’re cool.”

“Thanks,” you said, looking from her to the floor again. “I just…I’ve had my fill of shitty friends before. I figure Carol is the boring kind of shitty and not the ‘ruin your life’ kind of shitty.”

“Christ,” Abby said. “I get that though.”

You looked at her to call bullshit. 

“No, really,” she continued. “If I had a dime for every time I’ve realized someone I considered a best friend was actually totally fucking awful, I’d have, like…”  

“Too many dimes?”

You smile. Abby smiled at having made you smile. 

“Too many fucking dimes,” Abby agreed and lingered on you, this laugh of yours in particular said, that’s so stupid, but you smiled anyway. She looked away and nervously stroked her neck. “Hey, listen, I’m sorry about what I said before. I see you lug, like, four guitars between classes everyday, so I had no right to say what I did, about me not taking you for a weightlifter. That was stupid.”

Abby’s breath got caught in her words. There was something about her that always made you sympathetic and made the corners of your mouth perk up. She went on.

“I feel like we got off on the wrong foot. Which… that’s my fault. If you ever want to hang out, though, outside of the dorm-” 

But your eyes tore from her and were suddenly down the hall, staring at a gaggle of girls talking to one of the front desk student workers. Your face went sullen and your body stunned. Abby tried to follow your gaze.

You went into a panic and your eyes darted around until they landed on Abby again. 

“I have to go,” you suddenly said. You swung around to Abby, seemingly hiding your face from them.

“Oh- sorry, did I-”

“But thanks for saying that. Yeah, we should,” you said, and Abby could sense your urgency to leave. “Do you wanna go to a party with me?”

Abby couldn’t hide her surprise. And pleasure. “Yes. Yeah,” she coughed. “Sure.”

“It’s a Valentine's Day party. I know it’s early in the month for that, but, yeah, Carol invited me and it seems like it might be fun, I sort of want to go but I don’t really want to go with…”

“Oh, yeah, no, fuck Carol. I’m down.”

“Yeah?” Your eyes opened brightly, at her and then anxiously to the doors behind you. “Okay, that’s great, amazing. I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah, see you.” 

And you were out the door. Abby noticed your head slightly turn away from the girls at the front desk. 

Abby’s eyes were wide. She let out a big breath and smiled to herself as she walked back to the weights. Yet, Abby found herself counting past her normal ten reps, so consumed by her thoughts that she couldn’t feel her muscles burning. Perhaps it was the moment you invited her to the party that Abby’s grand idea to repress her feelings had gone out the window. Maybe it was when you confided in her, in what small way it was, or the way you laughed at her being a smart ass that made her abandon the boundary she set for herself. Or, possibly, in the moments she spent watching you watch the swim team, Abby realized something she quietly knew since the day she met you: she couldn’t exercise or fuck her way out of this. 

Even if it all was to just be your friend, which she was slowly accepting it would be, it would be worth it to die on that hill. She would let herself die on that hill. Even if it broke her heart and you never were any the wiser. What else could she do? Abby had been a lost cause from the start. 

.・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。.

In a glance, Abby’s memories stop short. She feels the same sense of hopefulness she did in her memory so she chooses not to reminisce further. Not when things feel so simple and good again.

It was hard enough for Abby to look you in the eyes. Every time she did, she felt like she was reading a book and your pages were turning so fast it made her dizzy. It’s how she feels as you ask again:

“You coming?” 

You’re half turned to face Abby on the pool’s edge with a hand outstretched to her and anticipation in your eyes. 

She comes in colors everywhere, she combs her hair, she's like a rainbow...

As if at peace with the restlessness you gave her, she looks over to you sweetly, cracking a girlish smile and releasing her hair from its braid.

“I’m not waiting for you!” You sing out. “Three! Two!”

Abby runs and cannonballs into the pool. 

A second later, Abby feels you explode into the water next to her and opens her eyes. The chlorine stings but she sees you clearly. The deep blue glow surrounds your body as you cascade through the water. Your eyes are squeezed shut drawing little lines of sunshine on the sides of your face, bubbles of air fluttering around you, escaping to the surface. 

Abby follows you up until you both find air. Two heads bobbing up and down. The noise of splashing calms. It’s just you and her. Both bodies are tensely aware of that fact. 

You hide the bottom half of your face in the water, looking away from Abby nervously. You can sense her eyes on you. It makes you freeze. The familiar heat runs up your neck. 

“Stop it.”

She shrugs, indecipherably.

“Okay,” she says.

But Abby doesn’t change a thing.

It all festers on your face. 

You take a breath and plunge down until water surrounds you completely, until you’ve held your breath so long that your heart beats louder than your thoughts, slowly and finally drowning them out.

Comment if you want to be on this story's taglist!

Tag babies: @soupycloud @femme-historian @ichokedonmyoreo @paleidiot @r3starttt @lez-zuha @seraphicsentences @vancexplicit @iamaboringrattat @iprefermountainsoverthesea @maybeidohaveadhd @fortune777 @umfiodeprata @x-ani @emothurman @colbyweirdo @backstrom69 @kisssssessssssyj @aylabv02108 @vic-likes-flowers @giuliaexe66 @sapphicontherun @nellkaida @i-feel-violated @grey-jedi12 @stickynachomaker @letmesleep8 @ravyaryn @punkwrld

.・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。.

[legend-the-dumb-jock]

I'd like to wish being transformed into a really dumb jock, and gross, but like, literal, so dumb i can't even say what 2 + 2 is, and i so gross i constantly belch and fart non-stop cause i think its manly and its funny, could you do it, pleasee?

You want to be dumbest thing walking on two legs. Thats all I read when I seen this. So that’s what we are going to do. People will look at you really question how something so dumb could even exist. As soon as your wish leaves you mouth instantly you tongue acts on it own hanging out of your mouth like a dog. You try to pull it back in but you can’t ! No matter what you do your tongue just seems to be too big you mouth and your jaw squares itself and drops. You look in the mirror shocked. You didn’t think didn’t think it would happen this fast but you can’t deny it. You look dumb. You start to burn up as your body begins to generate more heat than you’re used to and sweat begins to pour on your body. As that happens a puddle begins to form under you from all the sweat dripping off your body and your body begins to bulk with muscle. Your arms balloon out as your chest pumps up. Your abs pull your waist in and become tight forming an incredible 8 pack. Your face begins to itch as a beard starts to grow on your dumb face as your hair darkens. Your arms become hairy and your legs begin to bulk. Becoming swallowed in a furry mass as well. You back widens and you are overcomed with being lightheaded you have to sit down. Sitting in front of the mirror in your own puddle of sweat you can’t help but notice right arm and pec begin to get dark as a tattoos begins to streatch their way up your arms and across your chest. You look down and see a tattoo form on your right leg as your feet begin to swell. You notice that as your feet get bigger your tongue begins to push out more. Lower. DUMBER! Your pants begin to get tight as your package seems to be connect to your feet to. The bigger they become the larger your member becomes. Your feet stop ground at a sweaty size 17. Your body is massive now. Dripping sweat. Your veins are bulging from all the mass you’ve gained and your skin even has a tanned color to it.

But even though you look dumb. You said you wanted to be DUMB! Like the definition of full blown dumbass. And intense migraine moved across your head as you brain cramps. Losing the ridges that hold knowledge. Smoothing out as you become a literal dumbass. But I’m not cruel. I’ll leave you able to function. Unable to read. Unable to do anything other than lift weight and be a dumbass. You belch signifying lift off of your new dumbass life. Not even aware how stupid you are. I’m not even sure if you remember how to walk with how dumb I’ve made you but a muscle body like needs to crawl anyway. You’ll repeat simple sentences but anything complex you’ll have a glazed look pass over your dumb face. Instantly lost in all the confusion. Even yelling like a wild animal because of the dumbass you’ve become. You manage to stand up and stagger as your stupid brain tries to understand what you’re doing. A loud fart shoots out of your tight bulbous butt while another burp comes out. Still sweating and pumping out some serious Bo. You’re going to be a sweaty gas machine. To dumb to do anything and impossible to learn anything. Enjoy the new life you big dumbass.

[mykneeshurt]

Glutton

Credit for title picture - @loneghostwolf

König x F!reader

Disclaimer - this is a BDSM style fic, topics covered in this should NOT be carried out lightly. They should be performed either by a professional or in a committed relationship by consenting adults who have researched this. It can be dangerous both mentally and physically. Safe words, consent, limits and aftercare is non-negotiable in these scenarios.

Warnings - 18+, minors DNI, humiliation, spitting, slapping, shibari, slight burning, foot/heel worship, loss of control, praise kink, allusions to breath play

Standing in the mirror your smoothed out the black latex corset which adorned your body. Paired with black latex trousers and black patent Louboutins. It hugged your figure so gracefully, enhancing every curve, every juncture of your body. Once the latex sat where you wanted it you sprayed on his favourite perfume. He loved heavy and musky scents, sandalwood, amber, oud.

And by him, you meant König.

You aren’t meant to have favourites in your job as a dominatrix, but he was … different.

A 6’10 mass of muscle, a killing machine. Hands that could easily break the bonds you’d put him in. That could easily over power you if he wanted to. Now while you make every client sign a strict contract, some would still try to take advantage. But König looked at you with nothing but respect.

You remembered your first meeting, where you discussed limits, safe words and scenarios he wanted to play out. ‘What made you want this?’ You asked cocking your head. This wasn’t something you usually asked, that was their business, but you felt compelled to ask him.

His brilliant blue eyes peered at you from across the table and you were met with a thick Austrian accent, ‘I want to lose control.’

Now König liked a mixture of fetishes, humiliation, heel worship, face slapping and a hint of being your personal ashtray. Being restrained was a no brainier for him, that’s how he felt like he’d lost control.

He took to his knees in front of you, eyes already wide, like a deer in the headlights at your outfit. The shoes? Fuck. He felt his breath hitch in his throat as the dim light bounced off the patent material.

Crimson rope twisted and slithered around his firm biceps, all the way down to his wrists. He flinched slightly as your fingers grazed his skin, he could feel himself becoming hard. You firmly tugged his arms behind his back. His tan tactical pants strained as his muscles bulged underneath, he was always topless during these sessions. Wearing only his hood and trousers. He still wanted to keep some anonymity.

As you fastened the last knot in the rope you lowered your mouth close to his ear ‘now, what do you say König?’ Your voice was husky and sultry as it brushed against him. His mouth suddenly dry he fought to find words ‘y .. yes.’ Digging your nails into his skin he let out a hiss, ‘yes what? Don’t forget your place König.’

‘Yes mistress.’

With a smirk you placed a tender kiss on his cheek, time to begin.

Now while you catered to many scenarios, your session room was mainly kitted out with gothic decor. Candles, reds, blacks, dark oak, rich warm colours all melting into one another. In the centre of the room sat your throne, a dark mahogany chair with red velvet and crystals. Two lion heads adorned the arms as intricate baroque style woodwork adorned it.

As you walked over towards your throne you could feel his eyes fucking your from behind. His glare focused solely on your shoes, how they created an arch in your foot. The thin stiletto heel tapped on the wooden floor as took each step. He gritted his teeth, short breaths escaping his lips as he felt adrenaline surge through his veins.

This is why he came to you.

To feel alive.

On the battlefield he’d never felt more empty. Taking lives didn’t phase him anymore. He was numb to it all now, he had to be in control there, here? He could lose himself completely.

Sitting on your throne you leant back, arms draped over the sides, legs crossed. With a click of your finger you pointed to your feet, ‘König come.’ Your voice stern and commanding. Slowly he crawled over to you, careful not to lose his balance. ‘Quickly. Don’t keep me waiting.’ You snapped scowling at him.

He sat on his heels in front of you, eyes glimmering under the candle light of the black crystal chandelier. Lifting your foot you slipped the point of the shoe under his mask, ‘lick it, be a good boy for me.’ You watched as his breaths became shallower, his thick chest panting. A small groan came from under the mask as you felt his warm tongue swipe along the shoe. ‘You like that?’ You asked, tone patronising and curt.

‘Yes’ he panted. Removing your foot you leant forward slapping him ‘yes fucking what? I won’t ask you again König.’ His eyes suddenly showing a glint of panic he apologised, the last thing he wanted to do was to disappoint you. ‘For a solider you’re shit at listening.’ This time you pressed your heel into his chest, pinching his skin. His eyes back rolled slightly, as you heard the rope creak under the immense pressure of his strength.

From under his mask you heard him lick his lips, a shaky breath rattled from his lungs. Gripping his cheeks you pulled him closer to you, glaring down at him you tutted. ‘Sounds like someone’s thirsty. Haven’t you drunk enough today? Shit listener and fucking stupid.’ He remained silent. ‘Would you like a drink König?’ You asked a devious smirk on your blood red lips. ‘Yes mistress’ he said, voice strained and pathetic.

You lifted his hood to just below his nose, his lips swollen and red from biting them. Running your thumb over his lips he automatically opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue. Hovering your mouth inches above his you pursed your lips, allowing a silk like ribbon of spit fall onto his tongue. Slipping to the back of his throat. A soft whimper emerged from him as he relished the taste of you. It was like a reward.

Tapping his face you allowed him to swallow before repeating it again another three times. Rewarding him with praise each time. Only he forgot to thank you. Unsure if he genuinely forgot due to his pleasure or due to him pushing you like the brat he was, this would not do. Motioning him to stand up you undid his belt and pulled down his trousers and boxers. Leaving him bare.

‘On your knees and lick the floor like the ungrateful pig you are. You’re going to be punished severely for that.’ He did as he was told this time, muttering a yes mistress under his breath. You watched as his pink glossy tongue ran along the wood floor next to your foot. He placed a tender kiss on the skin as he looked up at you. Pupils blown wide, filled with euphoria and oxytocin.

He watched as you wandered over to a sideboard pulling out objects he couldn’t quite see. The anticipation made his cock twitch, pre-cum clinging to his engorged tip. You sat down on the edge of your throne, one foot behind the other as you lent on your thighs. You pulled out a cigarette and brass lighter, as you lit the cigarette he tensed knowing what was coming.

His favourite.

Taking a large inhale you blew the smoke in his face, menthol. You hated the taste of regular cigarettes, the menthol made it bearable. If you didn’t know him any better you’re sure a growl left his chest. With each puff of the cigarette you blew the smoke in his face, his eyes transfixed on you. ‘Coat your tongue and open your mouth’ you ordered. Doing as he was told he revealed his spit covered tongue to you, ever so gracefully you tapped the burnt ash onto his tongue. ‘Good boy’ you cooed, ‘swallow.’

Without breaking eye contact he swallowed, hard, gentle moans and whimpers echoing under his mask. This continued until the last drag of the cigarette. As a special reward for taking it all, you spat on his tongue before putting out the cigarette on it. A slight sizzle could be heard under Königs heavy panting.

His cock looked painful, throbbing with every word, every smack, every interaction. It was killing him. He was bordering on delirium, he needed to cum so bad. Noticing this you knelt down to his level and stared straight into his soul. ‘I know what you’re gonna do, you’re gonna go home, on your own and jerk off to this. In your sad little apartment. In your sad little life. On your own. Pathetic.’ His head flopped to his chest as a broken moan managed to fight its way to the surface.

He was close. Still on his knees you bent down and untied the rope, freeing his arms. ‘Lie down. Show me.’ You nodded to the floor, as you wound up the rope. Stretching out on the floor he led still awaiting your command. You lit another cigarette as you placed your foot on his neck, pressing slightly. His cock twitched against his stomach, hand on hip you repeated the command ‘show me, show me how you’d jack off on that pathetic apartment of yours. I want to hear those pathetic moans König.’

As his hand encased his cock his back arched off the floor, finally being able to release the pressure building up inside of him. Never taking his eyes off you he watched as you inhaled the cigarette, tapping the ash over his body. ‘Such a fucking loser’ you spat, ‘can’t find anyone to fuck so you come here?’ You let out a condescending laugh.

He pumped his cock, slow at first, building a rhythm as he writhed beneath you. ‘Are you a loser König?’

‘Yes misters’ he whined, muscles tensed his toes pointed as he neared his release. Your foot still on his neck you crouched lower to him and lifted up his mask. Slapping his cheek you repeated your question ‘are you a pathetic loser?’

‘Yes mistress’ he whimpered, voice cracking and shaking. This time you spat on his face, the salvia landed on his lips, he licked them eagerly. Another taste of you.

‘Cum König.’ You barked as you stared into the black void that was once his eyes. Pupils completely blown wide, glazed and glassy. And just like that? He came on command. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, jaw slack as he rode out his orgasm. You watched the way his body contorted under you, his muscles rippling and tense.

After he’d come down from his high you offered him a warm inviting smile. He looked a little shy but retuned the gesture. ‘Well done König. You always do so well for me. Go clean up and meet me in the debrief room.’

After each session König would use the private bathroom for clients, muted colours, essential oils and lavender filled the room. Utter relaxation was the goal. Once dressed he met you in the debrief room where you had changed, ‘you really are a glutton for punishment König.’ You smiled softly as he joined you on the sofa.

———

Taglist - @luminousbeings-crudematter @griffmon @southernbluebellereader

This is the throne - I need it for my vanity tbh lmao

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: Physical Fitness

[at the beach] Sonia Greene: oh howard this was such a lovely idea! Greene: a romantic seaside picnic and just the two of us! Greene: and we've got your favorite food right here - untoasted white bread! Greene: isn't this nice? HP Lovecraft: [sweats, stares at ocean] right sure

HP Lovecraft: Hey! Quit kicking sand in our faces! Sonia Greene: that man is the worst nuisance on the beach! Aleister Crowley: [grabbing Lovecraft] listen here, I'd smash your face, only you're so skinny you might dry up and blow away!

Crowley: [to greene, as he manhandles lovecraft] look babe, why don't you drop that zero and get with the hero Crowley: i'll show you how a real man kicks sand in people's faces! Crowley: THE GREAT BEAST!!! DO AS THOU WILLT!!!!

Lovecraft: The big bully! I'll get even some day! Greene: oh don't let it bother you, little boy Greene: i'll fix you up a nice big meal, put some meat on those bones Lovecraft: and that'll help me build muscle? Greene: [sweats] um muscle? um sure yeah muscle

Poe: howard, you need to stop letting aleister pick on you Lovecraft: but he's twice my size! he's all buff cuz of all the mountain climbing! Poe: you could start working out? Lovecraft: you mean physical labor? Lovecraft: sport?! Lovecraft: [sweats] like a common cornishman?!?

Poe: you should try it Poe: a good regimen of rowing and swimming helped me build mass Barker: oh come on edgar Poe: no really! Poe: [removes shirt, revealing he is super swole] Barker: Barker: oh right Barker: right i forgot about that

Mary Shelley: listen up nerd you don't need exercise Shelley: what you need is one of these [flips switchblade] Poe: oh come on mary, what if he gets attacked when he doesn't have knife on him? Shelley: dunno, that's never come up

Shelley: next time aleister gives you shit, you give him one of these [pantomimes shivving] Poe: mary, violence never solved anything Shelley: it does if you're good at it Poe: Barker: ah ha ha she's got you there edgar

Lovecraft: Darn it! I'm sick and tired of being a scarecrow! William Hope Hodgson says he can give me a real body. all right! i'll gamble a stamp and get his free book Lovecraft: i'll just not eat this week to afford the stamp

William Hope Hodgson: are you "fed up" with seeing the huskies walk off with the best of everything? Hodgson: sick and tired of being soft, frail, skinny or flabby? Hodgson: i know because i myself was once a puny 97 pound "runt" Hodgson: today, I am two separate gorillas

Hodgson: give me 5 weeks and my body building plan will turn YOU into the bronzed adonis you were meant to be Hodgson: through a dynamic combination of cardiovascular training, lifting big kegs, and standing in the desert while getting your balls tanned by an ultraviolet machine

Lovecraft: wow, how's you get so buff?? Hodgson: from constant brawling during my navy days Lovecraft: w-wait Lovecraft: you're a sailor?? Hodgson: yeah you should know from my popular lecture series about how much the navy fuckin sucks ass Lovecraft: [sweats]

Hodgson: ugh, i tell you Hodgson: it's just impossible to pay the bills with pseudoscience fitness programs catering to mens' insecurities Hodgson: i'm gonna pivot to weird fiction instead Hodgson: that's where the big money is

Hodgson: what if a bunch of pig men attacked a big house Smith: [on phone] hey clark ashton? it's me! your cousin! marvin smith! Smith: you know that new horror genre you're been looking for? Smith: well, listen to this! [aims phone at hodgson]

[webslingingslasher]

I just did an ab workout and it fucking sucked ass

But as a result… may I raise you, workout out with Peter

It’s a need!

*cleaning out my inbox*

peter’s strength…. so yummy 🤤

you knew exactly what you were doing, but peter didn’t. ‘i bet you couldn’t bench two fifty.’

he’s insulted to say the least. ‘i’m sorry, trouble. you said what?’ because there’s no way you just told him that.

‘i bet you couldn’t bench two fifty. you’re strong, but not that strong.’ peter scoffs, ‘i don’t think you realize how light two fifty is.’

you quirk an eyebrow, ‘oh really? i’d take you up on that bet.’ it’ll be the easiest bet of his entire life. ‘deal. i’ll take you to the gym with me next time, then you can see for yourself.’

that’s how you ended up watching peter grunt under the weighted bar, he’s got three twenty and he’s going so smooth he doesn’t need a spot, but you’re still there just in case. it’s not like you’d be any real help if shit went south.

‘is this your max?’ your words make peter laugh, like your question was adorable. ‘not even close.’ okay, maybe you thought he was stronger than what you originally teased. but him barely sweating at over three hundred pounds has you truly questioning his strength.

‘do you even have a max?’ there’s no way he could bench much more, he doesn’t have the muscle mass to back it up. not that he’s lean, but he’s no body builder either.

‘haven’t found one, no.’ the bar slams down, it bends under the force on each side. ‘there’s no way. i may have been exaggerating at first but you’re not mr. strongman.’

peter’s eyebrow raises like you just challenged him, you didn’t, but he took it as one. ‘wanna bet? give me a number.’

‘four fifty.’ an egregious amount but peter just nods and starts collecting more plates. the second his hands wrap around the bar you stop him, you didn’t want him over performing for your sake. if he hurt himself trying to impress you, you’d never forgive yourself for pushing him to that place.

‘you don’t have to. i believe you.’

peter fingers grip the steel, ‘it’s okay, i can do it.’ you slap his hands away, ‘no, really. don’t do it.’ you don’t care what expression he’s looking up at you with, you refuse to allow him.

‘you’re the one that gave me the number, trouble.’

‘because you were supposed to say no! don’t hurt yourself over this, i’m already impressed.’

peter clicks his tongue, disappointed you’d think of him so shallow. ‘i want to make you impressed at every chance, but i’m not gonna be stupid about it. if i couldn’t do it, id tell you.’

it’s not good enough, it’s a clear expression. peter immediately eats his words, he’s about to show off because you don’t believe him. the second the bar raises off the handle your teeth clench, you peer around the room and familiarize yourself with a very muscled man in the corner of the room. just in case.

no need, peter’s doing it with ease. he’s breathing hard, strained grunts pull from the back of his throat. he can bench it, but it’s not as easy as three hundred.

after four presses you can’t handle it, ‘okay, okay, okay! please stop.’ your hand hovers underneath the bar when it slams into the handle.

peter teases you when he rises from the padding. ‘you could never be the girlfriend of an athlete. what would you do if i broke my leg while drag racing?’

‘kill myself, i dunno.’

peter’s sweating across his hairline, his skin tacky under your touch. he shakes it off, ‘i’m hot.’ you wink, ‘yeah, you are.’

‘next time, just tell me you wanna see me workout. you don’t have to make up numbers, trouble.’

you play offended, ‘i did no such thing.’

‘you didn’t touch a single machine here.’

‘i was emotional support.’

‘i was eye candy, that’s it.’

your arms wrap around his waist, his back damp under your palm. ‘and you are so, so, so yummy. can i take you home and eat you?’

a glare from peter, ‘isn’t that my job?’