#Pull Up Bar Exercise for Six Pack

[fitnessmantram]

Pull Up Bar Exercise for Six Pack || Six Pack Workout || Abs Exercise ||...

You can train the obliques and serratus muscles, the lower and upper abs, as well as the movement's range of motion, by elevating your legs to the pull-up bar.

Read More : Unlocking the Power of Barbell Shrugs

[callsign-joyride]

Soon You'll Get Better | Bob Floyd

Summary: You have a seizure at The Hard Deck. Bob and the Dagger Squad immediately help.

Content warnings: Seizures in public places, hospitals, medical terminology, angst to comfort

Word count: 1k

A/N: This fic is dedicated to a friend. We both have epilepsy. I would not and will not write anything about medical conditions that I don't have or don't know anything about.

You slept through your alarm. It was set to go off at six, but you and Bob saw a movie the night before, so you were up later than usual. You barely had enough time to pack your lunch and get out of the door so that you could be at work on time. Thank God for night showers, you thought as you started the car. You greeted a few of your fellow teachers and the school librarian before heading to your classroom and getting the lesson for the day ready. It was easy because you had planned a character analysis of Tony Stark in the first Iron Man movie.

As lunchtime rolled around, you checked your phone for unanswered text messages and graded papers. Bob asked you if you wanted to go with him to The Hard Deck tonight, and you didn’t hesitate to say yes. You loved spending time with the Dagger Squad, and you were especially close with Phoenix and Rooster.

Bob had dinner cooked and on the table by the time you got home. Your plate was still warm, too, and the small act of kindness made you smile. You talked about your students and he talked about the training exercises that he had to do, even though both of you knew that you still didn’t understand a lot of what he was talking about after being together for years. He did the dishes while you went to the bedroom and changed your clothes. Really, you just swapped the floral blouse for a band t-shirt. After changing out your bag to something smaller, you were finally ready to go.

The bar was only a few minutes away. The short distance was one of the perks of living on a Navy base, but you liked it because of the proximity to the beach. Everyone got pretty used to you running to the beach whenever you felt like it. Bob said hi to a few of his friends before walking you over to the bar and ordering your favorite drink. You weren’t feeling well but you didn’t want to worry anyone so you didn’t say anything. 

All it took was one sip. Phoenix was on your left and Bob was on your right. As soon as the fruity flavor of the drink hit your stomach, something wasn’t right. 

“Hey, you okay?” Phoenix asked as you started to shake and twitch. Bob seemed too caught up in his conversation with Coyote to realize what was happening behind him. It felt like you couldn’t speak and you didn’t have control over your movements.

“Is she good?” Coyote asked. Bob immediately swiveled around in his barstool to face you. Phoenix was holding you in her arms while you were twitching.

“She’s having a seizure. Penny, is there any chance that you could get everyone out of here?”

Penny nodded her head and stood on the counter as she told everyone to leave out of the nearest exit if they weren’t going to help. Bob helped you lay on your side and looked around for anyone that would help.

“Okay, Coyote, there are rescue meds in the glove compartment of my car. Phoenix, call 9-1-1. She’s probably gonna throw up when she comes out of this so I need… Thanks, Rooster.”

“They’re on their way,” Phoenix said after a few moments. Coyote came rushing in with the gallon-size Ziploc bag of rescue meds and drew up the doses once Bob told him what you needed. Almost immediately after he gave you your meds, the ambulance pulled up and two EMTs rushed out with a gurney. 

He was able to ride with you to the hospital while everyone else decided that they would meet you there. It took a few minutes for you to fully regain consciousness after what happened, and Bob was holding your hand when you woke up. He was gentle when he hugged you and told you that everyone was waiting outside to make sure that you were okay. A few doctors came in and started to talk to you, but Bob refused to leave your side.

“Have you been taking your meds regularly?” The female doctor asked. Your stomach lurched as you looked between her and Bob a few times.

“I took them late last night because we saw a movie. Now that I think about it, I forgot to take them this morning because I was running late for work. I overslept.”

“We’re gonna run a few tests and keep you overnight for extra monitoring.”

The doctors told you what the tests were going to look like before they left. All you felt like you could do was cry and apologize.

“Hey, you have nothing to be sorry for. You’re okay and that’s all that matters to me. I’m not mad at you.”

“Penny had to close the bar early and our drinks! Who’s gonna pay for our drinks?” You asked through tears. Bob grabbed the bucket and held it under your chin when you started to hiccup. He rubbed your back and sat on the bed next to you while he explained everything that happened.

“Babe, paying for drinks is the last thing anyone is worried about right now. I can let a few people in if you want?”

“Yeah, but can we do two at a time? I don’t want to get more overwhelmed and stressed out than I already am.”

“Of course.”

It took about an hour for everyone to visit, and you were all tired by the end of it. Even though you were practically exhausted, the doctors still made you do the tests. You cried at the end of it when they told you that you wouldn’t be able to drive for a few months. Bob knew that it was worse because you were so tired.

“Hey, I’ll talk to Mav when I can go back to work. We’ll figure it out. You’re always gonna have someone to drive you to work and back, okay?”

You nodded your head and he wiped your tears before turning off the lights and crawling into the hospital bed next to you. It was a little awkward at first because he didn’t want to sleep on the side that had all of the IVs and monitors on it, but you eventually got it figured out. 

“Bobby?” You whispered.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Tag list:

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[misterjauthor]

POUNDED BY THE BODYBUILDER

“CHRIS, can you cover for me?” Simon asked.

The locker room buzzed with men in different stages of undress, while my co-worker and I stood in our maintenance uniforms. 

Some came in from the gym’s exercise area, removing their shirts drenched in sweat on the way to their lockers.

Some came in from the showers with towels wrapped around their waists, water droplets sliding down their torsos.

“The gym’s closing. You’re leaving me alone to clean by myself?”

“I’m sorry. I know it’s short notice, but I forgot it’s my wife’s birthday. It’s already late for dinner so I need to figure something out to celebrate.”

“How can you forget your wife’s birthday?” I crossed my arms in front of my chest and stared at him.

He pressed his palms together in prayer. “Please, bro. My wife’s gonna kill me if she finds out I forgot again this year.”

“On one condition.”

“Name it.”

How about you let me suck your dick? Of course, I can’t ask that out loud. I’m not stupid.

“I want one of those ube cheesecakes your wife made before.”

“I’ll even give you two.”

“Done.” I offered my hand.

After we shook, Simon walked away backward and pointed at me. “Thanks, bro. I owe you big time.”

“Look out.” I tried to warn him, but he crashed into Derek.

Simon apologized to the large man with a buzz cut and exited the locker room.

“Chris.” The six-foot bodybuilder walked toward me. His massive chest and arms bulged in his navy dress shirt.

One of his workout buddies in black briefs intercepted him, but he resumed his way after a quick greeting.

“Good, you’re here. I’ve been looking for you.” He adjusted the gym bag’s strap on his shoulder.

“Sir, the gym’s about to close.”

“Yeah, about that. Would it be okay to squeeze in a quick workout? Reception said it’s okay if you’re okay with it.”

“I don’t know. I’m the only one cleaning tonight. So I need to start right away if I want to finish before midnight.”

“Promise, it’ll only take thirty minutes, tops.  And I’ll keep out of your way.”

His proposal sounded reasonable. I can work with it.

“Please.”

How can I say no to this hot as fuck man? “Okay. Go ahead.”

“Thanks, man.” He squeezed my arm with a huge hand. “I really need to de-stress after the day I had with a difficult client.”

The sensation from the unexpected gesture went straight to my dick. As Derek took an available locker, I hurried to the restroom to hide my growing hard-on.

THE bustle of the gym turned to calm. Only a few people remained. Myself, Derek, and a few members showering before going home. And I turned off half of the lights.

I pulled out a small spray bottle from my utility belt and started disinfecting the equipment.

Halfway through the routine, Derek came out of the locker room only in skimpy gray sweat shorts.

His shirtless upper body bared blond fur trailing down his v-cut abs, disappearing into the waistband.

Fuck. How am I supposed to finish with this gorgeous man distracting me?

“I’m sorry I don’t have a workout shirt. I really thought I packed one earlier. Don’t worry. I’ll wipe down the equipment myself after I use them.”

I nodded and went back to disinfecting. Making sure he stayed out of my sight line to keep me undistracted.

Weights clinked behind me.

A quick peek in the mirror showed him loading the bar on the bench press.

Moments passed and guttural grunts cut through the silence.

Jeez, is he working out or having sex?

I turned to look at him as he sat up after finishing the set.

He removed one wireless earbud. “Did you say something?”

I shook my head. 

Derek smiled and turned away.

Does he realize what he’s been doing?

I imagined him making the same noise while having sex with his wife. Will he do the same grunts if he fucks me? Shit, that would be hot.

He prepped for another set.

To help clear my head of dirty thoughts about the man, I decided to start cleaning the mirrors. But the decision complicated my situation.

The mirrors reflected Derek doing bench presses. His wide-open legs tightened the sweat shorts on his bulge.

Blood surged through my dick as I imagined the outline of his fat meat through the material.

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

I adjusted the utility belt so one of the pouches covered my erection and looked in the mirror.

If Derek looked with intent, he could see the obvious tent in my pants.

Not good.

He finished his set and flexed the pumped chest in front of the mirror. The sheen from sweat defined every curve of muscle on his upper body.

Before he witnessed the effect of his manliness inside my pants, I abandoned the mirrors and transferred to the members’ lounge.

I can stay here. At least until my hard-on subsides.

But as I wiped down tables, Derek’s grunts—although lower in volume—continued.

Shit. I will be here a while.

THE supply closet door squeaked as I pushed it closed with my hip. It echoed in the empty shower area.

With paper towel and liquid soap refills on hand, I headed for the restroom.

On the way, I passed by Derek bent over the drinking fountain in only a classic white jockstrap. He groaned and flagged me down with an arm holding a protein shaker bottle.

I stopped. 

But while waiting for him to finish drinking, my eyes zoned in on his jockstrap bulge. The loose weaving of the pouch material made it translucent. 

Fuck. This time I’m not imagining it. I could make out the shaft and the fat dick head.

I shifted my arms and positioned the items I carried over my crotch. When the liquid soap container pressed into my hard-on, the pressure elicited a small whimper out of me.

Derek stood up and wiped his mouth with a forearm. “Chris, are you okay?”

“Anything I can help you with?” I asked, tearing my gaze away from his dick.

“No, I’m good. Actually, I just wanted to ask if you want to have my other banana.” 

“I…I’m sorry?” 

“Because I have a big one in my pouch. If you want it, you can have it.”

“Pouch?” I furrowed my eyebrows. 

He showed me the banana in his hand. “I have another one of this in a pouch in my bag. Are you sure you’re okay? Maybe you should eat my banana.”

Did all the blood in my brain go to my dick? The man meant an actual banana, stupid. 

“Sure. I’ll eat it later. I have my hands full right now.” I gave him a weak smile.

“No problem.” Derek turned around and walked away, giving me a full view of his plump, round ass.

I bit my lip and grumbled before proceeding to the men’s restroom.

Once inside, I started with the paper towels. The image of Derek’s ass lingered in my head while I loaded the dispenser.

What would it be like to kneel behind him and shove my tongue into his pink hole as he braced himself on his locker?

I adjusted my dick.

“You dropped some.” Derek, still in his jockstrap, bent down and picked up the paper towels from the floor. 

I caught a glimpse of his hole. “Sorry, I was a little distracted.”

He handed me the paper towels and stood in front of a urinal. His hand pulled the jockstrap pouch to the side and aimed his dick at the ceramic.

As I moved on to refill the liquid soap dispensers, I angled myself to get a better view in the mirror of Derek peeing without getting caught.

“By the way,” He turned his head to look at me in the mirror. 

I shifted my eyes away from his dick. In my hurry, some of the liquid soap spilled. “Shit.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” I used the paper towels from the floor earlier and wiped away the blue liquid. “Just on a clumsy streak tonight.”

“Distracted, huh?” His body’s angle revealed more of his soft, fat dick. “It’s my fault. Don’t worry. I’ll just shower and then leave without getting in your way anymore. I’m sure you’re sick and tired of seeing my almost naked ass all night.”

Oh, Derek. If you only knew how bad I wanted to see your naked body. And being so close to it all night but not being able to do anything about it, it’s torture.

After shaking his dick and tucking it back inside, he flushed and went to wash in the sink next to me. His body emitted a potent masculine scent.

The desire to lick and sniff his sweaty armpit stirred in me.

“I really appreciate you letting me work out late. Promise, I’ll make it up to you.” 

“You don’t have to do anything. Actually, I’m grateful for the company. It’s nice to at least not be alone. Especially after my co-worker bailed on me.”

“No, I want to. Just let me know what you want. I’ll see what I can do.” He winked at me in the mirror. “I’ll go take a shower now.”

His wink caught me off guard. But I’m sure it’s nothing but an innocent gesture of gratitude. My horny, pervy mind is misinterpreting the words of a straight, married man. Right?

IT took a while for my erection to subside after the encounter in the restroom. 

But once my dick calmed down, I walked back to store the half-full liquid soap container.

Steam rose and water splashed inside one of the shower cubicles.

As I made my way to the supply closet, the translucent door’s gap showed Derek under the spray, leaning on the tiled wall with both hands.

I did a double take.

Water cascaded down his wide-muscled back until it curved on the plump ass.

Shit. Look at that ass. My hand tightened around the container’s handle.

Derek shifted.

Before I get caught, I proceeded to the closet and put what I came in there to store.

But the temptation to watch Derek lingered. Desire overcame my resistance.

I transferred to a better location where he wouldn’t see me but I could see him through the gap.

Derek turned around, his front in full view. 

What it would be like to have that dick in my mouth? The whole thing choked me, as he shoved it down my throat.

He lathered soap into foam over his chest and abs until he moved onto his dick.

As I watched him rub soapy froth around the shaft, my hand made its way to the tent in my pants. I pressed the palm on my hard-on.

Derek worked his cock lubricated by soap until it doubled in size. He added the other hand to stroke the entire length.

I pulled my pants zipper open and fished out my angry dick, careful not to alert him of my presence. Once out, my hand matched his strokes. A bead of precum formed at the slit.

He leaned on the wall, tilted his head up, and closed his eyes. One hand moved up to play with his nipple.

A whimper threatened to escape from me, but I bit my lip to suppress it.

A loud ringtone interrupted the silence.

Shit. In a panic, I bolted toward the lockers area without tucking my dick back in.

The water turned off. “Chris, is that mine?”

“Yeah, I think it is.” I managed to pull the zipper up without my dick getting caught.

With only a towel draped over one shoulder, Derek scampered in.

A trail of water droplets followed behind him.

“I’m so sorry about the floor.” 

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it.” 

He mouthed ‘thank you’ before answering the phone. “Yes, hon.”

I retrieved the mop and worked on every inch of floor around the long padded bench.

“No, I’m still at the gym. But I just finished showering. I’ll be home soon.” He leaned back on the locker next to his. His dick in full view.

I kept my head down, but my eyes drank in Derek’s meat.

His voice raised. “Why don’t you believe me?”

I stopped and turned to him.

He pointed a finger at his phone while looking at me. “She thinks I’m with another woman.”

A woman’s mumble came from the phone.

“It’s not another woman. It’s Chris. You know, the maintenance guy? He’s here cleaning the gym.” He rolled his eyes and faced the phone toward me. “Could you please tell my wife I’m not with another woman.”

I leaned in. “Ma’am, you don’t have to worry. Your husband will not cheat with another woman while I’m here.”

“You heard that, hon? I already told you.”

I left him to store the mop away. And when I returned, I started picking up the discarded towels.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be home soon.” He ended the call before digging inside his gym bag on the bench.

His used jockstrap next to the bag caught my eye. I wanted to sniff his ball sweat from it.

“Thanks again, man. My wife gets really jealous sometimes.” He took out clothes from inside. “The list of things I owe you is getting longer, huh?”

I dumped the towels in the corner bin for washing. “It really is okay, sir. You don’t have to worry about it.”

“Oh, I almost forgot.” He took the towel from his shoulder and handed it over.

As I reached for it, it fell to the floor. 

“Sorry.”

I bent down to pick it up, but the sound of fabric tearing stopped me from pulling. “Shit.”

Derek stepped closer, his naked body almost pressed into me.  “Maybe it snagged on something on the bench’s leg. A nail or whatever.”

I knelt on the floor, felt for what caught the towel, and released it. When I looked up, Derek stood in front of me. His dick inches from my face.

We both looked at each other. No one moved.

My eyes went to his perfect specimen of manhood. The pubic hair around it trimmed short.

“You like what you see?” His voice gruff.

I looked at him but remained silent.

“Answer.”

“Y…yes.”

“You want it?”

I nodded slow.

“I know you do. You think I didn’t know you’ve been looking at my cock all night, faggot?”

“N…”

“Shh.” He put a finger in front of his lips. “You think I didn’t see you playing with yourself while spying on me in the shower?”

Shit. He saw me.

“Why do you think I put up a show? I knew fags like you would enjoy it.”

There’s no point in denying anything now. I looked at the fat dick  in front of me again.

“Go ahead.” He cocked his head. “Touch it.”

My pulse quickened as my hand inched its way closer. But before it reached Derek’s soft meat, I looked back up at his face.

“You earned touching my dick tonight.”

I pressed my palm over the head and shaft.

He took a deep breath. “Fuck.”

My fingers wrapped around the semi-hard flesh. 

“How do you like my dick?

I started stroking him. “You have a big dick, sir. One of the biggest I’ve ever touched.”

“Keep doing what you’re doing and you’ll see how big it really gets.”

No doubt he’s telling the truth. I switched up my grasp and used my thumb to stimulate the underside.

He looked up and hissed. “The rough skin on your hand feels so fucking good.”

I continued stroking the now fully hard cut dick. Adding my other hand, I used both hands to pleasure his entire length.

Precum collected at the piss slit. The clear liquid tempting me.

I stared at the erotic nectar as  my tongue wet my lips.

“Taste it.”

We locked eyes as my body leaned in closer. I flicked my tongue and a rope of sticky liquid trailed from the piss slit.

“Fuck.”

I closed my eyes and savored the salty taste. “Hmm.”

“You fags really like a real man’s juice.”

I smirked before flicking my tongue on the underside. Teasing the sensitive ridge for Derek’s pleasure.

He put a hand behind my head. “More. Use more of that tongue.”

Lifting his dick, I went under to lick from the base all the way to the head.

His dick twitched.

I did the same thing again. But this time I made sure I enjoyed the look of pleasure on his face.

“With the way you use your tongue, I’m sure this is not your first dick.”

“And not my first dick in the gym also.”

“Good.” He grinned. “I got myself a slut here.”

I went down further and licked one of his balls.

“Damn. Too bad I already showered. I wanted to see you enjoy the taste of my sweaty balls.”

“I want that too.” I licked the other and alternated the two.

“Yeah? I knew you’re one raunchy fag. Put my balls in your mouth.”

My mouth took in the hefty balls sack. I moaned.

“I haven’t fucked my wife in a few days. Those are full of cum just for you.”

I switched to the other one and played it with my tongue. The thought of him not been able to shoot for a few days filled me with anticipation.

“Can’t take it anymore. Suck my dick now.”

I ignored him.

He grabbed my hair and directed me back to his dick. “Suck it, fag.”

Without delay, I moistened my lips and wrapped it around the head.

“Shit.” He pulled closer. “Your mouth feels good. So warm and wet.”

I took the dick out and used my tongue to play around the head.

“My wife doesn’t know how to do what just did. You should teach her.”

I put the dick back in my mouth. This time, I took more in  and at the same time stroked the base with my hand.

Derek thrust his hips into my mouth.

He’s getting impatient. It would be nice to enjoy this much longer, but I should give him what he wants. 

I made more spit and took him deeper. My mouth strained at his girth.

“Deeper.” Derek groaned. He added the other hand to pull my head.

His dick slid in as much as my mouth could accommodate. But when it hit the back of my throat, I gagged.

“Yeah. Choke on that big dick, cocksucker.”

I have sucked big cocks like this before. His won’t be the first one I give up on. I receded and adjusted my mouth before burying him in my throat.

Derek pushed his hips. “Motherfucker. No one has ever taken my dick deeper than you just did.”

My hands grabbed his muscled butt and helped bury him deeper.

With both hands, he held the side of my head and fucked my throat. “That’s what I’m talking about. I’m gonna wreck this throat of yours.”

Letting him do what he wanted, I held on to Derek’s massive thighs and stayed still.

He showed no mercy as the throat-fucking sped up. Even when I gagged, he stopped but only until I recovered and then he resumed.

I watched him watch me as he violated my throat. Fucked it like a bitch’s pussy.

He acted like he knew I would let him do whatever he wanted to me.

Derek’s right. He can do whatever he wants and I wouldn’t complain.

With both hands, he held my head still and kept his dick buried inside my throat.

My fingers squeezed hard on his thighs as I struggled to breathe. The tears ran down my face. I forced myself to push off from him or I will pass out.

He let me go.

I looked at him while I coughed and gasped for air.

A cocky smirk appeared on his face. “I like seeing your red face while choking on my cock. But enough of that, I’m going to fuck you now.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve been fucked by a dick as big as yours. You’re going to have to loosen me up first.”

Derek pushed his clothes and gym bag off the bench.

I got up and removed my pants and underwear.

“Get on the bench.”

Facing away from him, I got on all fours and looked behind me.

He spit on my hole and used two fingers to spread it all over the sphincter.

“Prepare my hole for your big cock, sir.”

“This is not a hole. It is a pussy. Pussy made to be fucked by real men.”

“Please get my pussy ready to be fucked, sir.”

Derek pushed his middle finger in and started sawing in and out. Adding spit to make it more slippery. 

As I loosened, I wanted more. “Another finger, sir.”

He added another and turned the fingers as if screwing it in.

The fingers slipped deeper inside. When he reached my prostate, I whimpered. “Oh my god. Right there.”

“This one?” He rubbed the spot.

“Yes.” I closed my eyes, curled my toes and held on tighter on the bench. “Fuck.”

He added a third finger.

“Please, sir. I need your dick to fuck me.”

Derek got on the bench. As he aimed the head, he spit again on my gaping hole.

“Fuck me like you fuck your wife.”

“You want to be my wife tonight?”

“Oh god, yes.”

He pushed his hips and buried half of his dick in. “You’re tighter than my wife’s pussy. You need to be fucked regularly to loosen you up.”

“You can fuck me anytime you want.”

His hands grabbed a handful of my shirt uniform and started fucking me. 

I grunted with each rough thrust. It’s as if he didn’t care if he hurt me.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Get used to it because I’ll take you up on your offer. You’re gonna be fucked whenever I get the chance to.”

“Make me your bitch.”

He bent over my body as he continued fucking me. “This is what you wanted all along. The reason you let me workout late. So you can get me alone and I’ll fuck you like a bitch. Huh, you slut?”

“I’ve been fantasizing about you  fucking me for the longest time, sir.”

Without pulling his dick out, he flipped me on my back and resumed fucking. “This is no longer a fantasy. From now on, your ass is mine.”

“Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me.”

He scoffed. “Who would’ve known that a manly guy like you will be begging to get fucked like a bitch.”

“Deeper. I want all of your dick in me. Fuck me deeper.”

Derek reached for his sweaty jockstrap from the floor and stuffed it inside my mouth. “Bitches shouldn’t say anything while a real man fucks them. But what they can do is enjoy the taste of my ball sweat.”

I moaned through the damp jockstrap.

Still inside me, he pulled me in a hug and got off the bench.

My arms and legs wrapped tight around his massive torso.

His hands grabbed my sides and made me bounce on his dick, fucking me upright.

I gripped him tighter.

After almost a minute, he brought me toward the mirror with the toiletries and resumed fucking me on the counter.

Precum soaked the belly of my shirt. I needed to get off. My hand moved to my hard dick.

“Uh uh.” Derek knocked my hand away. “You don’t need to do that. I’ll fuck the cum out of you.”

I believed him as I braced myself on the counter. My head kept banging the mirror. The sweat from my hair smudged the glass. “Keep going. Don’t stop.” The jockstrap muffled my words. 

The hair dryer and some toiletries got knocked off to the floor as Derek’s fucking rocked the counter.

Fuck. I’m cumming. The pleasure short-circuited my brain as cum exploded on my uniform. 

He kept pounding me.

Some hit me on my chin. The rest formed white ropes of liquid on my chest and abs.

“Get ready. I’m going to breed you. You want my seed?” He pulled his jockstrap out of my mouth.

“Yes. Knock me up. I want to have your babies.”

Derek growled. His forceful thrusts pounded into me as he emptied his load.

“I can feel each spurt.”

Once emptied, he fell on top of me while his dick remained inside me.

I let my cum and our sweat soak into my uniform as we both stayed still while catching our breaths.

Moments passed. “I think I went over the thirty minutes I promised earlier. But I hope the fucking made up for it.”

“Oh yeah. Don’t worry. Your dick more than made up for it.”

We both laughed.

Derek pulled out of me. “I need another quick shower and then leave before my wife calls again.”

“I’ll get you another towel.”

He helped me off the counter. As he started heading for the shower, he looked back at me. “That was the best late workout I’ve ever had.”

“I was serious about what I said earlier. You can fuck me anytime you want.”

“Maybe I’ll even invite one of my buddies to experience how good it feels to work out late.” He winked.

---

Chris's story continues in Derek's Buddies.

You can also read the story it became the spin-off of, F*ck Buddies.

Or check out my other stories available on Amazon and Smashwords.

I truly appreciate the support. It inspires me to continue writing.

If you enjoy my stories, please let me know. Or at least Reblog it.

Mister J

[krishna0424]

Unlock Your Six-Pack Potential: 10 Effective Ab Workouts and Exercises

Looking to enhance your muscle growth with an effective pull day workout routine? Whether you're a beginner or an experienced lifter, incorporating these exercises can help you achieve your fitness goals. Here are 10 powerful pull day workouts that target your back, biceps, and shoulders:

Deadlifts

Pull-Ups

Bent Over Rows

Lat Pulldowns

Dumbbell Rows

Face Pulls

T-Bar Rows

Seated Cable Rows

Shrugs

Bicep Curls

Each exercise focuses on different muscle groups, ensuring a well-rounded and balanced routine that promotes muscle growth and strength. Combine these exercises with proper nutrition and rest for optimal results.

To dive deeper into workout routines and tips, check out this Push Day Workout to complement your pull day regimen.

[fitliferegime]

The Ultimate Guide to Abs Gym Workouts: From Beginner to Advanced

You are in the right place if you are looking for the best abs exercises and workout that you can do at the gym to build six-pack abs and strong core muscles. With the right abs workouts, anyone can achieve a toned and chiseled six-pack.We will take you through the most effective ab exercises that will target all areas of your core, from weighted crunches to planks, and from leg raises to cable twists.We've got 20 ways to make your abs routine more effective with the equipment at your gym, such as a pull-up bar, cable machine, abs roller, and a dumbbell.Furthermore, we will provide you with expert guidance on form, frequency, and intensity, in order to maximize your results.Next time you’re at the gym, pick three of the moves below and do stick to it, and we promise you’ll feel the burn and see results.

The Anatomy of Your Abs

Your waist is made up of two muscle groups: the rectus abdominis (known as your “six-pack” muscles) In the front and the obliques on each side. To build the impressive six-pack abs, first we needed to understand the anatomy and functionality of the abs, which help to perform the abs exercises on gym machine to the best level. Rectus Abdominis The rectus abdominis is a paired muscle running vertically down the front of the abdomen. It is commonly referred to as the “six-pack” muscle.The two rectus abdominis muscles (one on each side) are encased in a sheath of fascia that forms the central dividing line down the middle of the abs.

External and Internal Obliques The external and internal obliques are located on the sides of the abdomen- The external oblique is the outer visible layer that passes run diagonally on each side of the rectus abdominis. - The internal oblique muscles lie under the external obliques and run into the lower back or erector spinae. - The oblique muscles play a crucial role in torso rotation and lateral flexion, aiding in activities like twisting and bending sideways. Transverse Abdominis The transverse abdominis is the deepest layer of the abdominal muscles, running horizontally across the abdomen. It acts as a natural corset, providing stability and support to the spine. Core The core comprises not only the abdominal muscles but also the muscles of the lower back, hips, and pelvis, working together to stabilize and support the spine.The abdominal muscles work in synergy with other core muscles to provide stability, transfer force, and maintain proper posture. Want To Build Six Pack ABS: Use Our Free Calculator To Know Your Fat Loss Calories Requirement

How To Train Complete Abs With Gym Equipment

Do you want to lose that belly fat and finally achieve a rock-hard abs? Then you must try these abs exercises during your next gym workout.Training your complete abs at the gym requires a comprehensive approach that targets the different areas of your abdominal muscles from various angles.Target, hitting the different areas of your abs from every angle. Some exercise concentrates on your upper abs, some focus on the lower abs, and some works the often neglected side abs – or obliques – along with your deeper core muscles.With exercises that work the upper abs, lower abs, obliques, and deeper core muscles, you can get a well-rounded and defined midsection. BODY FAT % CALCULATOR: KNOW YOUR BODY FAT PERCENTAGE TO GET VISIBLE ABS

Read the full article

[gymexfitness]

PUMPING OUT PULL-UPS TO BUILD YOUR UPPER-BODY

Pull-ups are the ultimate test of upper-body muscular strength. It’s about the toughest bodyweight exercise you can do. If you’re in the Royal Marines, you need to be able to do six perfect pull-ups to keep your job. The hard core guys do them with a dumbbell between their ankles. Of course the effort you put in results in an absolutely shredded chest and upper-body so you get an awesome reward for all that pull-up torture.

Let’s blast those lats and biceps

The pull-up trains almost the entire upper body with a real focus on the lats and biceps. These are the muscle groups that love it when you hit the pull-up bar.

Lats

Large round muscle 

Major pecs 

Small pecs

Abs

Two-headed upper arm muscle 

Upper arm muscle 

Hood muscle  

Three-headed upper arm muscle  

Upper arm spoke muscle  

Don’t put off starting pull-ups?   

While we know pull-ups are challenging, it doesn’t mean you have to be a super-fit gym junkie before you can get started. You have to start somewhere and there are pull-up machines and lat-pull up towers that are designed to help you graduate over time to full-blown pull-ups.

If you’re trying pull-ups at home. Be persistent. Just completing one is an achievement. If you train with a friend, they can support a lot of your weight, giving you a slight boost up until you get stronger and can complete a pull-up independently. Legend!

What exercises can be done on the pull-up bar?

A pull-up bars are easy-to-use, affordable and practical. As well as the classic pull-up with the wide overhand grip, you can also do chin-ups with the narrow underhand grip. Watch that upper-body widen.

Here are some variations advanced trainers can do : 

Windshield wipers

Rowing overhead

Skin the cat

Toes to bar

Front and back levers

Archer pull-up

Muscle up

Pull-up bars are also perfect for ab training and leg raises. Did you know the leg raise is an awesome ab exercise that shouldn’t be missing from any six-pack workout plan.

Pull-up bars are perfect for home workouts

Pull-up bars are inexpensive and space-saving training equipment. Even you live in a small apartment, there’ll be a space for your pull-up bar. If you don’t have a home gym or you travel a lot, then a straight pull-up bar is ideal for you. It can be installed in a door frame quickly, easily and without screws.  

If you do have a home gym or workout space, permanently installed pull-up bars  are ideal. You’ll find pull-up bars that can be anchored to the ceiling as well as to the wall in the Gorilla Sports shop

*Please not I removed the entire secton about Are chin-ups suitable for women because it is sexist and reflects poorly on the brand.

What does a pull-up training plan look like?

From beginners thrilled at completing their first pull-up to hardcore pull-up pros, you’ve gotta have a plan. Here’s what they look like.

Pull-up training for beginners

As you work your way to nailing your first pull-up, it’s a good idea to add exercises to your workout that also target the areas that will help you become a pull-up master. A good example of this is oblique pull-ups, which can be done with a pull-up bar mounted in the door frame at hip height. This is ideal for beginners because oblique pull-ups are easier than pull-ups yet they train the right muscles to prepare you to eventually pump out pull-ups like a pro.

Pull-up training for advanced users

No matter who you are, pull-ups are a challenge for the most advanced athletes. When regular pull-ups are no longer the holy grail and you need a challenge, try pull-up training with additional weights. Durable dip belts with weight plates secured are ideal for this.

When you hit elite level, you can either challenge yourself with one-armed pull-ups or one of the pull-up variants at your gym. For example, the Archer Pull Up, which is a kind of side pull-up.

Which muscle groups do I train with pull-ups?

The pull-up is a bodyweight exercise that trains almost the entire upper body. The classic pull-up, which is performed with an overhand grip that is a little more than shoulder-width apart, primarily trains the lats and the biceps.  

What is the best way to train for pull-ups?

On the way to your first pull-up, it’s a good idea to try related exercises such as oblique pull-ups which target muscles you need for pull-ups. To do these in the home gym, a pull-up bar should be mounted at hip height (e.g. in the door frame).

What exercises can be done on the pull-up bar?

In addition to classic pull-up exercises, there are other variations perfect for advanced athletes  

These include: 

Windshield wipers 

Overhead rowing 

Skin the cat 

Toes to bar 

Front and back levers 

Archer Pull Up 

Muscle Up

[kemetic-dreams]

           13 Undeniable Benefits Of Deadlifts

1. They’re Functional AF We can argue all day about whether the squat or the deadlift is the king of exercises, but look: no caveman squatted under load. He slayed deer, lifted ’em, and dragged them back to his cave. We tend to use “lift” to describe almost any exercise, but a deadlift is straight up lifting something heavy off of the ground. It’s the alpha and the omega of lifting. Barring injury and other medical reasons, no human body should be incapable of a deadlift.

2. Gigantically Strong Glutes The gluteus maximus is the biggest muscle in the body and of the three powerlifting movements, nothing targets the butt as hard as the deadlift. Strong glutes transfer to better endurance, power, and pain prevention— your heinie is the engine that drives your machine. Dormant butt syndrome is a real thing that causes back, hip, and knee pain to millions. Don’t be one of them!

3. Traps Like Bane (the Batman Villain) Nothing says power like cobra-like traps. Deadlifts hit the posterior chain all the way up to the neck, and strong traps don’t just make you look like a badass, they make your shoulder and neck more resistant to injury. Hit ’em with deads!

4. A Flood of Anabolic, Fat-Burning Hormones Deadlifts are the everything exercise, and when one exercise works that many muscles, from the thighs to the core to the neck to the grip, it triggers a cascade of beneficial hormones like testosterone and growth hormone. That doesn’t just mean stronger muscles and bones, it means less body fat and better mood, immunity, and sex drive. Speaking of which…

5. A More Powerful Hip Thrust You know what that means. A cleaner triple extension, which will carry over to smoother snatches and cleans.

6. Wide Lats and a More Injury-Resistant Back A good deadlift engages and strengthens the lats, and yes, big lats are cool. They fill out a silhouette and give an unmistakable appearance of strength and functionality, but remember that this is a long-term investment in your health. Back pain is a leading cause of disability in Americans of all ages and a strengthening your posterior chain is one of the most effective ways to delay or even prevent it.

7. A Core of Steel Forget crunches. If you want to move serious weight with a neutral spine (and you do), you need a strong, stable core, and we’re not just talking about the six-pack. Deadlifts work the core all over, from the spinal stabilizers to the lower back.

8. Hamstrings Like Iron Cables We all like trophy muscles like pecs and biceps, but for overall health and function, you want to look better leaving a room than you do walking in. The posterior thigh can be one of the most neglected areas on the body, but powerful hamstrings make you run faster, jump higher, and accelerate with more explosive power. Few compound exercises hit ’em as well as a nice, smooth deadlift.

9. Bragging Rights As a test of overall strength, your deadlift numbers matter. Whether it matters more than the squat or another exercise, of course, depends on the lifter, but let’s be honest: when someone wants to know your PRs, your deadlift is one of the first things you’ll start talking about.

10. Old Man Grip Strength Back in the old days, men worked out by working hard. They carried heavy loads and had the grip, forearm strength, and crushing handshake to match. Big biceps and strong quads are one thing, but this is an area in which the modern athlete often falls short. When grip is the weakest link in the chain, your lifts, pull-ups, kettlebell swings, and countless other exercises suffer. Deadlifts aren’t the only grip exercise, but they’re among the best. Build a grip like an old man.

11. A Menu to Choose From Want to mix things up? Sumo deadlifts, Romanian deadlifts, trap bar deadlifts, and rack pulls all offer different benefits and all can find a place in a well-constructed training program. There’s plenty of deadlift variety for when you want to switch things up.

12. Ramrod Posture Sloppy posture doesn’t just come from internally-rotated shoulders. It comes from a weak core, sleepy glutes, and even undeveloped hamstrings and lats. The deadlift conducts a glorious symphony throughout these muscles, building their strength, drawing them into alignment, and solidifying their role in keeping your back straight, shoulders back, and chest proud.

13. Bones Like Wolverine Deadlifts are a perfect storm of full-body muscle strength and testosterone, and studies have shown that that these factors mean a profound increase in bone strength and decrease in osteoporosis risk. Strong bones mean a person that’s harder to kill. Be like Wolverine. Do deadlifts.

[blueberryboistories]

Augustus Returns

Chapter 1

Augustus looks up at the factory sign, the big letters blinking in order. A lot has changed in his life since the last time he stepped through those gates ahead. 

15 years ago he was a chubby greedy kid only concerned with shoving as much food as he possibly could in his fat face. Back then he really didn’t care about the factory tour, he just wanted the lifetime supply of chocolate. He can remember walking into the room with a chocolate river and all he could think about was chugging every last drop, kneeling on the bank and trying with all his might to guzzle as much as he could before anyone noticed. Scooping handfuls into his mouth chocolate dripping down his double chin onto his shirt. When Wonka caught him he was in such a panic he didn’t know what to do, and his chubby body lost balance and he fell into the chocolate river. Augustus was scared because he couldn’t swim but the thought did flash through his mind that he could try to drink the river dry. 

Once that tube sucked him up and he was stuck in it looking down at his mother and the rest of the group, he couldn’t help but feel more free to let his gluttony do whatever it wanted. When the tub finally deposited him in the fudge room he ate everything in sight. Knocking the tiny men out of the way to shove every last piece of fudge into his face. He only stopped when his legs couldn’t support his new weight. He was lying on his back with his shirt in tatters staring at his fat stomach which was three times the size of when he started the day. When he realized how fat he had made himself in his quest for gluttony. He felt ashamed of how much of a pig he had become. He promised himself that if he ever got out of this place he would turn his life around. 

Augustus did and soon became the picture of health. Exercising everyday his fat gut turned into a six pack, and a chubby boy became a muscled man. He was on magazine covers and one of his country’s most famous health gurus. He and his boyfriend Elias were the most famous couple around. Photographers always followed them everywhere they went. From the gym, to shopping, or camped outside their house. 

Some of the photographers were outside the factory gates snapping shots of them holding hands as they walked to the entrance. Elias whispered to Augustus “Auggie remember not to eat everything in sight, it took a lot of hard work to lose the weight”. Augustus whispered back “I understand, but you have no idea what we are walking into right now Eli”. They both squeezed each other’s hand just a little tighter with nervous energy. 

They reached the factory door and it swung open as if by magic. They stepped through to find a long hallway with a red carpet running to a distant doorway. The two slowly walked and reached a huge door with a simple W etched in gold. Augustus turned the knob and opened the door to find the candy forest and chocolate river. Their eyes filled with amazement and wonder, Elias seeing it for the first time was in shock of its sheer size. Augustus had the feeling of being home, looking around at everything, some things were new but that beautiful river was exactly what he remembered. He took Elias down to the exact spot where he had fallen in before. It took everything he had not to kneel down and take a drink. 

“Well my dear boy, I’m glad to have you back” came a voice from behind them. They turned to find Wonka having appeared from thin air. The last time Augustus saw him was wedged in that tube looking down at the group. “What happened to my plump little Augustus?” Wonka questioned as he eyed the boy up like a piece of meat. “I’m taking better care of myself now” Augustus gave his arm a little flex and his abs a pat. “I’m glad to see that, but with you not eating all my chocolate that’s a lot of lost business, you were my best costumer” Wonka chuckled loudly. “And who is this handsome young man you brought with you”. “This is my boyfriend Elias” Wonka shook hands with Elias examine every inch of his talk muscled physique. “Very nice to meet you Elias, you’ve done very well for yourself Augustus”. 

“I’ve prepared a toast for us to begin our tour” Wonka turns and lifts a silver try with three empty glasses and a long-handled ladle . “Elias could you hold this for me?” He hands the tray to him and removes the ladle, he steps around the boys and goes to the edge of the river and dips the ladle filling it with fresh chocolate. He come back and begins to fill the three glasses. Augustus is entranced, unable to focus on anything but the glasses now full of warm liquid. The last time this chocolate passed his lips it changed him into a glutton. “Cheers gentlemen!” Wonka says as he takes a glass from the tray, Elias does the same, leaving one left. “Go ahead one drink won’t hurt” Wonka says handing him the glass. The three clink glasses and Elias and Wonka drink, Augustus stares down at the vessel of temptation. “Go ahead Auggie it’s delicious” Eli says. Augustus lifts it to his lips and swallows it down in one gulp. He feels a warm sensation spreading through his body, a familiar feeling of total satisfaction. “Exactly the same as I remember”. 

Augustus was still partially entranced when he notices Elias asking for another glasses. Wonka obliges and watches as Elias gulps down the delicious chocolate. As he pulls the glass from his lips Augustus notices a changed look on his boyfriends face. Immediately he know that a switch has been flipped and Elias now has the deep desire to gorge, the same desire Augustus had all those years ago. 

Wonka motioned to a set of tables filled with an array of treats. Brownies, cookies, cakes, donuts, chocolate bars, every delicious treat one could imagine. Elias nearly ran over to the buffet of sweets, shoving a whole brownie in his face. Augustus watched in horror as Elias ate everything in sight. Shoving more food in his face before he swallowed what came before. Augustus began to notice that his boyfriends button-up looked tighter then when they came in. He can see the fabric stretched tight against and noticeable paunch, Elias oblivious just kept eating. 

Augustus turned to Wonka who had a somewhat mischievous grin on his face “what can I say the boy seems famished”. While still glaring at Wonka, Augustus heard a loud *BANG*, he looks back over to Eli to see his shirt, pants, and belt in tatters having blown off to expose a new-formed gut. Augustus walks up to Eli and begins to rub his boyfriends new flab, Eli moans softly as he keeps up his gluttony. Augustus whispers in his ear “Hey Eli maybe you should slow down a bit huh, you’ve already busted out of your clothes” giving the fat gut a pat. Eli doesn’t respond and continues to feast. As Eli lifts yet another brownie to his face, Augustus holds his arm to keep him from eating. And for the first time Eli looks over at him, a blank emotionless stare as he chews the donuts stuffed in his cheeks. Eli takes his elbow and shoves it in Augustus chest, sending him to the ground. In absolute shock Augustus stares up at his newly plump boyfriend who is now unrecognizable to him. 

Eli finishes up the remnants of the buffet and collapses flat on his back on the ground. Augustus walks over to check on him. A once chiseled chin, now fat with a triple chin. Eli’s skinny jeans busted open to accommodate a fat pad in the front and a double-wide ass in the back. Wonka stands next to Augustus “This is what happens to you when you guzzle down sweets, here are some new clothes for him” he hands Augustus a purple tracksuit with a gold W on it. 

“Once you are done changing him we can wake him up and continue our tour”

To be continued . . . 

[hermannsthumb]

Can I get something where Newt barges in on Hermann doing some yoga in the most scantily clad yoga gear ever...

ok this is for like 3 people and wholly inspired by the hermann tank top renaissance on side twitter this past week. 18+ under cut!!!

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

The good thing about living on what used to a pretty bustling base—Newt considers—is that the average athletic hopeful has their pick of at least three different gyms at any given time. And the good thing about that—Newt further considers, as he half-jogs down to the gym closest to the k-science lab—is that the rangers don’t bother with any gym besides the one directly off of their quarters, because it’s got the sparring mats and the nice equipment and all that shit. Look, Newt’s not exactly the most ripped guy in the world. Or even really very fit. When he feels the rare urge to hit the gym, he doesn’t want to be struggling over some push-ups while rangers with muscles as big as his head lift 300 pound barbells and bust open punching bags or whatever. It’s...degrading.

Lately Newt’s been hitting the gym more frequently than usual, on account of a something that passed between him and Hermann at lunch in the mess a few weeks back. Hermann had caught eye contact with one of the muscled rangers across the room, looked down at his little bowl of soup, and said—calmly—“He’s quite handsome, isn’t he?”

Anyway, that’s why Newt has to get all buff now. 

It’s disappointing to see that the gym lights are on, but maybe no one will take any notice of Newt if he sticks to a deserted, badly-lit corner or something. He’s so set on creeping inside undetected that he doesn’t even realize who it is that’s beaten him there that morning, until he hears a small, surprised “Newton?”

Newt looks up sharply. Hermann is on a yoga mat in the middle of the gym floor, his left leg stretched out far to the side, and bent halfway over to touching one socked foot. But that’s not what stops Newt dead in his tracks and sends a fiery jolt of arousal rocketing straight down to his stomach, and it’s not even the little grunting noises Hermann’s making as he goes: that’d be Hermann’s outfit. He’s forgone his usually twenty wrinkled old layers for a pair of baggy grey yoga pants and the absolute thinnest white tank top of all time, a tank top which shows off shapely, toned arms, a thin layer of sweat over each, and collarbones, and clings to a shapely set of pecs, which has ridden up just enough to show off a patch of pale stomach, with a small trail of light-colored hair leading down, and... “Newton!” Hermann repeats, shooting up in alarm. 

“Wha?” Newt says, and then he trips over a weight bench.

It’s one of their more uncomfortable trips to medical.

"Don’t tip your head back,” Hermann says.

“Thanks,” Newt says, except Hermann’s handkerchief is pinched to his nose, so it sounds a great deal more nasal. “I know, dude. Not my first rodeo.” He’s gotten his ass kicked for mouthing off in bars to jackasses more times than he cares to admit. He pulls away the handkerchief and scowls at the blooming scarlet stain, as if doing so might stop the source of it. It doesn’t; another splotch of blood lands on his hand, and he quickly shoves the handkerchief back into place. “Unbelievable. I’m gonna look so fuckin’ gnarly tomorrow.”

“Well, I suppose it’s an lucky thing you haven’t broken it,” Hermann says. “Or anything else, for that matter. How on Earth did you manage to do that, anyway?”

“I was thinking about,” Newt casts about for a suitable lie, “...kaiju. You know me. Haha.”

Newt had landed pretty flat on his face. The way Hermann had sprung into action would be admirable, really, and Newt would feel grateful enough to treat Hermann to takeout coffee for at least a week, if the act that necessitated fast action hadn’t been so completely and utterly mortifying. Hermann is still in his little yoga pants and tank top; he didn’t even remember to grab his shoes from the gym before he escorted Newt out. The knotted drawstring of the yoga pants is hanging well down his thighs. Skinny motherfucker. Since when has Hermann had pecs? “Aren’t you cold?” Newt blurts out.

“Cold?” Hermann says.

With a great deal of difficulty, Newt forces his eyes up from the swinging drawstring of Hermann’s yoga pants to his torso. His half-bare torso. With his shapely arms, and his shapely pecs, and his elegant collarbones. If Newt squints hard enough, he could probably see Hermann’s nipples through the white fabric. Especially now—the Shatterdome really is always so cold, with the A/C blasting, and Hermann is usually so sensitive to it... Oh, God, someone help Newt. “Because you’re in,” he says, and then swallows a few times, “th—that. Tank top.”

Hermann looks down at himself, like he’s forgotten what he’s wearing—like it’s inconsequential what he’s wearing—and hums. “I hadn’t really noticed—I was a bit overheated, I suppose, from my exercises.”

“Your exercises,” Newt says.

“Yes, my stretches,” Hermann says. “They do wonders for keeping my leg limber.”

Limber; Hermann is limber. Hermann, in his little yoga pants and tank top, grunting away while he stretches out, is limber. “I didn’t know,” Newt says. He’s started to feel a bit light-headed again, and hopes Hermann doesn’t notice the funny way he’s walking. He’ll be grateful when they get back to the lab and he can sit down a little, or maybe run back to his bunk and take care of his...problem.

They walk under one of the larger A/C vents; Hermann gives a little shiver. Newt forces his eyes all the way down to Hermann’s socked feet to avoid catching sight of any potential physiological responses in Hermann’s pectoral region. “Maybe you should put on a sweater,” Newt says, helpfully. He watches Hermann’s cane move up and down with each step. He’s never seen Hermann not wearing a sweater before. Not even at Shatterdome parties. Up until today, Newt would’ve thought that Hermann wore sweaters to the beach, some sort of special waterproof wool. Maybe he wears tank tops to the beach.

Hermann says something.

“Uh-huh,” Newt says. He thinks about the small beads of sweat that had been dotting Hermann’s exposed collarbones.

“Were you listening?” Hermann says.

Newt looks up. “No,” he says.

“I said we ought to go to the gym together, in the mornings,” Hermann says. He gives Newt one of his rare, blinding smiles, his funny mouth going lopsided. “It’s too bloody quiet in there. I’d appreciate even your company.”

Unlimited access to Hermann’s bare arms, his bare shoulders, his collarbones. Grunting. Stretching every which way. It sounds like a fucking nightmare, or maybe a hellish wet dream. Besides—Newt doesn’t go to the gym. Not like Hermann. Apparently. “Sounds cool,” Newt says.

Hermann looks pleased. Stupid, stupid Newt.

He jerks off furiously in the empty communal showers that night, thinking—extensively—about what it would be like if he was jerking off on Hermann’s stupid tank top instead.

They make plans to meet at the gym the next morning at six, with a trip to the mess hall for breakfast at seven after. Hermann, it turns out, has an extensive workout routine, but not quite an extensive workout wardrobe, and so—as Newt attempts a few puny sit-ups in his oldest pair of MIT sweatpants—he’s treated to another view of Hermann’s weirdly gorgeous arms straining and sweating in that stupid tank-top. He watches Hermann stretch and bend each leg and lift some of the smaller weights for ten minutes before he realizes that he hasn’t actually moved a single inch since sit-up number three. Hopefully Hermann hasn’t noticed. “You’re not tired out, are you?” Hermann says, having apparently noticed. He groans as he arches his back. He has a small birthmark on his left shoulder. “I don’t mind finishing a bit—”

“No!” Newt says. “Not tired. Just, uh—” Hermann shuts his eyes and groans again, a little louder. “Just—” Hermann’s tank top has ridden up, giving Newt a glimpse of that little dusting of hair, the elegant vee of his hips... Newt bites his lip to keep himself from saying something stupid. “I. Uh.”

Hermann, bent half-over, looks up at Newt through his pretty dark eyelashes. Newt cracks.

“Holy shit, dude,” he whines.

Hermann straightens up languidly. “Mm?”

He doesn’t even look surprised when Newt reaches out a fumbling hand towards his knee, nor when—a moment later—Newt surges forward to kiss him clumsily. Hermann’s mouth merely curves up in a smirk against his, and he fists the back of Newt’s ratty old t-shirt to draw their bodies tighter. “I’ve been wondering when you would do that,” he says, and his voice hitches up in a small gasp when Newt presses his kisses onward across his jaw. “You’re the least subtle man I know.”

“Don’t even care,” Newt mumbles. He nips some of the soft skin at Hermann’s throat and lifts his hands up to squeeze his biceps. They’re nice and sturdy under his fingers. Is this moving into new territory with Hermann way too fast? Maybe. Sort of. They’ve made out a few times at parties before, and once Newt gave him a discreet (fully-clothed) handjob in a kinda nasty alleyway outside a bar on his birthday, but nothing, like, serious. Though it’s not like this is serious. Lab partner stuff. “Holy shit, dude, I didn’t know you were so strong.”

“Strong?” Hermann snorts. He goes easily when Newt urges him onto his back against his dumb little yoga mat; his pupils are wide and dark, and a pink flush has started creeping down his neck. He drapes his arms over Newt’s shoulders. “I didn’t know you cared about those sorts of things.”

“I don’t,” Newt says. “I didn’t.” He tracks more kisses down the dips of Hermann’s collarbones, following that blush. “I guess it’s just you?”

He doesn’t wait for an invitation before rucking up Hermann’s tank top. He hasn’t got a six-pack, or anything like that, but Newt doesn’t really care, because Hermann’s pecs rock even more when they’re bare. He squeezes at one just to see Hermann make a face, and—laughing—ducks down to graze his teeth across the left one, taking care to catch at his nipple. Hermann hisses sharply and grabs at his hair. He looks a little silly with his top bunched under his armpits, but it’s kind of cute too. Newt trails his tongue across Hermann’s sternum and tries his luck at the other side, too, and is pleased when Hermann gives a full-body shudder after each. “Ah, Newton,” he moans. “I’m—sensitive—there.”

Newt kisses over the spot instead as way of apology. Then he starts to trail his kisses lower, down Hermann’s slightly concave abdomen, where the skin is luminously pale. Newt amends his earlier assumption that Hermann wears tank tops to the beach; he’s not sure if Hermann has ever even stepped foot on a beach. “Newton,” Hermann moans again. He gives Newt’s hair a little tug when Newt takes the drawstring of his yoga pants between his teeth. If he goes down on Hermann good enough, maybe Hermann will let him test out last night’s fantasy... “Mm. Be quick about it. We haven’t got all—”

The door to the gym swings open; two rangers, chatting away happily, step inside, and stop in their tracks when they catch sight of Newt and Hermann. Newt flings himself off of Hermann, but it’s too little too late. It’s pretty obvious what Newt and Hermann had been doing. “Oops!” one of the rangers says, turning their back to them. Their friend turns away, too, and laughs awkwardly. “Sorry, Dr. Geiszler, Dr. Gottlieb. We didn’t realize this was—uh. Occupied.”

Hermann yanks down his tank top. 

“No worries,” Newt squeaks. “We’re. Uh. Just about done.”

The door clicks back shut; Newt hears laughter. Hermann is covering his face. “Hand me my bloody sweater,” he says. “We’ll finish this later.”

[write-orflight]

Trouble: Chapter 3

*Gif not mine*

Pairings: HotchxReader

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Rating: M

Words: 3.5 K (She thick)

Warnings: Kinda Nsfw language, witch shit. idk

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary: After Haley’s passing, Aaron Hotchner has lost the light in his eyes. He seems to find it it the most unlikely of places, an occult themed coffee shop ran by a witch.

A.N: Tarot, wicca, and crystal information is very secondhand if you see any inaccuracies, no you don’t.

Chapter 3: Trouble on my left, Trouble on my right 

It’s been months since your late night rendezvous with Hotch and ever since the two of you have actually become good friends. 

He would often stop by the shop after work which was typically while you were closing up. You’d brew tea (because Hotch had made the mistake of telling you he was having trouble sleeping) while he helped you out and stacked the chairs on the table so you could sweep later on. You’d sit at the bar talking about your days, sometimes he’d be upset either about a case or just in general and those days you would just talk and he would listen. One day, you’re talking about going to the park with Artie that morning and he stops you. 

“How are you like this?” He asks.

“Like what, Gus?” 

“This…” he says, gesturing to you. “Carefree, naive, happy.” 

“I’m not naive.” You pout. 

Hotch levels you with a look. “Maybe not in some ways. But you really are naive to how the world is sometimes.” 

“I’d say I act the way I do because I’m aware of how the world is. I mean, am I more hyper-aware of serial killers now than I was before I started the shop here, yea. But you know, life is a gift, freedom is a gift, and love is a gift. So everyday I get to exercise those gifts is what makes me happy.” You smile, looking Aaron in his eye. He’s a lot closer than you thought he was. You notice his eyes drift to your mouth and back up to your eyes, but you don’t say anything. It still wasn’t the right time.   “I’m free to live how I choose and love how I choose, what’s not to be happy about?”

“A lot.” He says, bluntly turning away from you. You don’t know what took over your but you bring your hand under his chin, turning him so he’s facing you again. You then move your hand to cup the side of his face, thumb stroking his high cheek bone. He seems to lean into your touch. 

“I pray the goddess gifts you something to be happy about.” You say. Hotch, now being used to how you are, doesn’t look at you like you’re crazy. Just looks you in your eyes, intensely, somehow more intense than he’s ever looked at you. 

“I think she has.” 

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

You meet Jack some time after that. Aaron comes into the shop on a weekend day. Artie looks up from her coloring book.   

“Hi, Mr. Aaron!” She says, lisping as she had lost her front teeth a couple of days ago. You look up when she says that to see Aaron approaching the register, a small boy gripping his hand. You immediately smile.    

“Hey, Bean!” He says, as he approaches the register. You can’t help the way your heart swells. You don’t know when exactly Hotch started calling her Bean, everyone typically called her Artemis or Artie, per her request, you were the only one who got to call her Bean. But for some reason when he started also calling her Bean, Artie didn’t stop him.  

“Hey Grumpy.”  You say, softly. “And who is this?” you say, regarding the young boy next to him, squatting slightly so you could be eye level with him. You see Aaron nudge the quiet boy slightly.  

“I’m Jack.” He says, quietly. 

“Hi, Jack,  I’m Y/N.” You smile at him. 

“I like your hair.” He says. 

“You do?” You say, exaggeratingly flipping it, inducing a chuckle from the boy. 

“Yes, Green’s my favorite color.” 

You gasp. “Would you believe it’s mine too?” He smiles, and nods at you. “What can I get you, Jack?” 

He looks over at Aaron, who nods. “Can I have hot chocolate?” 

“You got it, little gus.” You wink before looking up at Aaron. “Usual?” he nods, before helping Jack into the stool next to Artie and sitting next to them. 

Artie looks over to the boy next to her and smiles widely. “Do you want to color? I have green.” She says. The boy silently nods fast and Artie hands him a paper and some of her color pencils. You and Hotch watch them for a second before turning to each other. 

“How’re you today, Aaron?” You ask, drawing on Jack's cup while Aaron’s coffee was brewing. 

“Better that I’m here.” He says, smiling at you. 

You flush. “My stars, Mr. Hotchner. If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were flirting with me.” 

“And if I am?” 

You clear your throat and turn away from him to focus on the coffee, positive your face was the same hue as a tomato. “So what’re the two of you doing with your day off?” 

“We’re going to the aquarium!” Jack says, excitedly. 

“Woah, the aquarium!” You say, matching his excitement. He nods, fastly. 

“Yea, I figured to stop for coffee along the way.” Aaron says. 

“Can we go to the aquarium, Mama?” Your child pipes, quietly behind you. Your heart breaks a little at her pouting face. 

“I’m sorry, beanie. Mama has to work, maybe we can next week.” You say, softly. She nods but you can tell she's still sad. “The aquarium’s her favorite, sorry.” you say handing Aaron the cups over the counter. 

“I can take her with us if you want. Her and Jack seem to get along and I don’t mind. Only if you’re comfortable with it though.” 

“Really?” You say, he nods. “Would you want to go with Jack and Mr. Aaron to the aquarium?” You ask your daughter who smiles widely nodding. “Ok pack up your backpack first.” She makes quick work stuffing her books and colored pencils in her bag. 

“Thanks again for this. I’ve been working so much we haven’t been able to do anything fun recently.” You say. “Let me give you money for her ticket.” Hotch immediately shakes his head at you. 

“Not necessary.” He says. 

“Let me pay you.” 

“No, plus this can just be repayment for all the free coffee you’ve been giving me.” He says, smiling at you. 

“Ok, but be careful. She’s a little con artist.” 

Aaron just chuckles at you. “You guys ready?” He’s met with loud cheers from the children. He grabs the cup before leading them towards the door. 

“Learn something, Artemis.” You call after your daughter. 

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

“Mama!” You hear as you’re sweeping. You weren’t typically closed this early but you wanted to spend the night with your child. 

“Beanie!” You sway as the child comes bounding towards you, you sweep her up into a bear hug. You see Aaron lingering near the front of the shop watching the display. “Did you have fun?” 

“Yes! Did you know the blue whale is the loudest animal in the world?” 

“I did not know that.” You say. “Go thank Mr. Aaron and head upstairs, okay. I’ll be up in a second.” 

Artie nods before running to collide with Hotch’s legs. Hotch let’s out a tiny ‘oof’ before hugging the girl back. “Thank you, Mr. Aaron.” 

“No problem, bean. Goodnight.” He says watching her bound the stairs. 

“We live above the shop.” You explain. He nods. 

“I-uh got you this.” Aaron says, holding a turtle stuffed animal in front of him “Since you couldn’t come with us. Artie said they were your favorite animal.” 

You laugh, taking the plushie from him. “Thank you, Aaron, this is really sweet. But cows are my favorite animal.” You smile and he looks at you confused. “Turtles however… are Artie’s favorite. I told you she was a con artist.” 

You and Aaron laugh for a minute at how your six year old was able to pull one over on an FBI agent. “I’m sure she’ll love this though. How much do I owe you for this?” 

Aaron shakes his head. “Nothing, she got me fair and square.” 

“Aaron, you’ve gotta let me pay you back for some of this.” 

“You could have dinner with me.” He says, bluntly. 

“What?” 

“Have dinner with me.” 

Your brain short circuits for a second. Here was a man you’ve had a thing for quite some time bluntly asking you on a date. “Do I at least get to pay for dinner?” 

“Of course not, is that a yes?” 

“Yes, Aaron.” You say. A wide smile adorns his face. Those were rare and you can’t help the way your heart swoons. “Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight, Y/N.” 

———————————————-

The following week you are paid a visit by Penelope. 

“Hey Penny, what can I do for you?” You smile. 

“I’m actually here on business but I will take a caramel mocha for my troubles.” 

“You got it.” you say, grabbing a cup. “Now, what business are you here on?” 

“I’m here to invite you to drink with us friday.”  She smiles. “We’re going to O’malley’s and so are you.” 

“Gee, I’d love to Pen, but I’ve got Artie and I’ve got to close up here so I don't know.”

“I’ll do that.” Silena adds in the corner. “I’ll help you close up early and then I’ll sit Artie. When’s the last time you went out?” 

You shrug, it has been a while since you’ve interacted with adults outside of work.” 

“Exactly. So go out with Penny and her friends. I’m assuming Aaron will be there?” Silena asks, Penelope nods excitedly. 

“Oh ok... I see what this is. You’re setting me up when I said not to.” You say throwing a pointed look at them. 

“I would never.” Silena says, incredulously, hand to her heart as if she was going to faint. “I just think you should go have fun. Drink, flirt, be merry. Frankly, I’m sick of seeing you always here.” 

You narrow your eyes still not believing them. “Fine, I’ll go.” 

The day of you and Silena are closing up shop. You finally take off your apron hanging it on the hook in the back of the cafe, blowing a breath. That last rush had kicked your butt and you almost wanted to take a nap but you had to take advantage of the free sitter time. 

“So…” Silena starts as the two of you clean up the baking area. “What’re you going to wear?” 

You look down at your clothes. “Uh… I was thinking of wearing this?” 

“Your work clothes?!” 

“What? It’s a t-shirt and pants. What’s wrong with it?” 

“It’s just so… bleh. God, just because you’re a mom now doesn’t mean you have to dress like one. Your body is still hot as fuck, Y/N! Why not show it?” 

“I don’t know, Sil. I’d just rather be comfortable.” You shrug. 

“Well, you can’t wear that. It has a giant flour stain on the back.” 

“What do you mean? What stai--” You’re cut off by Silena clapping you on the back, hand full of flour. You sputter over her loud laughs. “Silena this is my favorite shirt! And you’re cleaning that!” 

“Relax, dummy, it’ll come off in the wash. And now you’ll have to wear something else.” She smiles, mischievously. “Hey, do you still have that leather skirt from college?”  

“Jesus Sil, It’s a bar, not a frat party.” 

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

You checked your hair and makeup again in your rearview mirror. God, you looked and felt like a clown. Silena had dressed you, despite your best wishes. You were wearing an all black two piece type dress. The top was a short sleeve turtleneck crop top that was tight around your chest. The bottom was a high waisted long maxi shirt that had a large slit up the right leg, leaving your thigh and calf exposed. Your tattoos that adorned your arms, thighs and stomach for sure were very exposed as well. You knew for a fact you were overdressed but Sil wouldn’t let you change. 

You very hesitantly walked into the bar, clutching your bag. You look around for a familiar face until you hear your name. 

“Y/N?” You hear Penny saying over the crowd. You turn to look at her and smile walking towards the group. “Oh my god, you look hot! Is this what you look like when you’re not in the shop?” 

“Sometimes.” You smile. “Hi, everyone.” you say acknowledging the group, you're met with small greetings and wide smiles from everyone until your eyes go to Hotch. He doesn’t say anything just looks at you over the beer he’s sipping with a small smirk. You smile at him but he still doesn’t say anything just slowly looks your body up and down with dark eyes. When he meets you back at your eyes, you release the breath you didn’t know you were holding. You’ve never seen that look on him before, complete and utter want. You swallow for a second before sliding in the booth next to Spencer who regards you with that tight smile he sometimes seemed to have. 

“Have you met Derek, Y/N?” Garcia asked, a toned light-skinned man extended a hand towards you at that moment. 

“I’ve met his coffee order but not him.” You say, shaking his hand. “It’s nice to put a face to the white mocha.” 

“Honestly, when Garcia told me she had a friend who was a witch, you were definitely not what I was expecting.” He says. You don’t miss the obvious way he eyed you up and down but you choose to ignore it. You knew it wasn’t serious. 

“What? You were expecting Baba Yaga?” You ask, inducing a laugh from the group. “Nah, I’m just a glorified rock collector. Now if you all will excuse me, I’m going to get a drink so I can catch up.” 

You slide out the booth and walk up to the bar, probably swaying more than you needed to be. You knew Aaron’s eyes were on you. As you’re waiting for your drink, you notice a drunk man walk up way too close to you. 

“Hey beautiful.” He says, slurring slightly. His breath is a clear indicator he’d been drinking. “It’s just my luck I’ve got you here alone, huh.” 

“I’m good, actually.” You say, turning back to the bartender praying to the goddess he’d hurry up. 

“Don’t be like that sugar, you came out dressed like that for someone. I’m just hoping it was me.” The man says. 

Suddenly, you feel the heavy weight of an arm around your waist. You look up to see Hotch, who is pulling you closer into his side. “It wasn’t.” He says to the man, looking him directly in the eye as if daring him to challenge. 

The guy holds his hands up in mock surrender. “Sorry dude, don’t want any issues.” He says, before walking away. You get your drink shortly after that and Hotch is now standing close in front of you, leaning against the bar. 

“I had that handled.” You say, pouting slightly. 

“I’m sure you did.” He says, sipping his beer. You take that moment to drink your much needed adult drink. “You have more tattoos than I thought.” He says, hand moving up to trace a long one you had on your upper arm. 

You flush. “Oh, yea. Can’t really show them at work. Unprofessional and all.” 

He hums in agreement. “Do they all have meaning?” 

“Some do. Most are just things I found pretty at the time.” 

He nods. “There seems to be a lot I still can’t read about you.” 

“Please, you know plenty. Plus isn’t that your whole job? Reading people?” 

“Yea, but I try not to do that with people I’m close to.” 

You move closer to him, batting your eyes a little so it was obvious you were flirting with him now. “What if I want you to?” You say. “Read me, I mean.” 

He clears his throat, looking back at you. “Then I guess, I could.” He says. You look at him while you sip your drink, waiting. “You’re smarter than you let on, something tells me that your parents were sticklers about school which means you had good enough grades to go to a good school on scholarship. You say you and Silena were roommates all through college but the other day you said 6 years, which leads me to believe you have your master’s degree but you don’t like to tell anyone about that. You’re thinking about going back to complete your doctorate simply because you enjoy learning.” 

You hum. “Hmm, all true. I have my master’s degree in business. But that stuff’s easy to find out. What else do you know?” 

He clears his throat. “You grew up in a strict household, with a distant father and a cold mother who didn’t let you step out of line in anyway. That’s why you are the way you are now. Tattoos, piercings, green hair, wiccan. It’s everything you wanted to do that your parents would never allow, you want to be the complete opposite of what they raised. It’s also why you treat Artemis the way you do, you don’t push your ideals on her because you’re scared you’ll be like your parents in that way.” 

“Booo!” You say, Hotch looks at you shocked. “This is all stuff anyone can gather from seeing me for 10 seconds. You think anyone is looking at an adult woman with green hair like ‘I bet she has a great relationship with her parents’? NO! Come on, Mr. Hotchner, get to the juice!”          

“Alright.” He says, downing his beer before moving closer to you until he’s talking lowly, directly into your ear. “You like older men, always have and specifically men who are stronger than you.” His arm moves back around your waist and you try not to make the gasp that leaves your mouth obvious. “You like someone else to be in control in the bedroom simply because you’re always the one in control in every other aspect of your life. You want someone to be in complete control which is why sometimes, you let them tie you up.” Now he’s impossibly close to you, and you’re grateful that you’re out of the eyeshot of the group so they can’t see how unbelievably turned on you were right now. “You like being called Good girl more than being called a bad one. And while you never could bring yourself to call another man Daddy in the bedroom, you like regarding them with titles like Sir. Am I close?” 

You swallow. “Did you actually know all of that?” 

“Some of it, some were just what I was hoping.” 

“Let’s go outside.” you say, before Hotch is tugging you out the nearest door.

You barely have time to register the cold air of the alley before Hotch has you pinned against the nearest wall. His mouth is on yours instantly and you can’t help the moan that falls from your lips. Your hands instantly go to his jaw as his arms circle your waist. A gasp falls from your mouth as his lips move along your jaw, sucking a mark into the spot behind your earlobe that had your eyes rolling back. This was a lot and definitely way too fast. It wasn’t until he gripped your waist tighter and you felt a certain something poking at your side that you stopped him before it could go too far. 

“Aaron, stop.” You whisper. He pulls back immediately from you. 

“Did I do something wrong?” He says, in that low voice that almost makes you whimper. 

“No! Of course not, it’s just. This is really fast.” You say. “I mean, you haven’t even taken me out yet, I’d at least like dinner if I’m going to be an adult making out in an alley next to a dumpster like a college student.” You laugh, Aaron chuckles slightly moving away from you. 

“You’re right. It is fast, and I still have every intention of taking you out.” He sighs. “Do you wanna get out of here?” He asks, you give him a look. “Not like that, we can go to the shop if you want.” 

“Yea, sure.” 

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

You and Aaron head back to the shop not bothering to tell the group you’d gone. You were positive they had an idea of what was happening anyway. 

The two of you sit at a table instead of the usual bar top tonight, drinking tea. When you’re silent for a moment you notice Aaron staring at you. 

“What?” you say. 

“Nothing, It’s just you look beautiful tonight.” He shrugs. “I guess I should’ve said that before--”

“Shoving your tongue down my throat? Yea maybe.” You tease, smirking at the flush that comes across his face. “But thanks.” 

He then leans across the table to kiss you and you can’t help but lean back but the shop phone rings interrupting you. 

“That’s weird, who would be calling this late?” You say, getting up to answer you might as well, you were here anyway. 

“Hallowed Grounds, Y/N speaking.”  

“You thought you could hide forever didn’t you, dove? Cute shop, though. I know where it is. I know where you are. And you can’t keep me from my kid anymore.” 

The phone slips from your hand cracking on the tiled floor.         

Taglist: @megatrexus @roses-and-grasses​ @tittymuncher69​ @liaabsurd​ @ladyravenclaw​ @genevievedarcygrangerreading​ @softbibxtch​ @xxdisappearwithoutatracexx​ @crimeshowtrash​

[kokichi-and-co-imagine-blog]

Can I get like a little short story about what would happen if Chihiro was a werewolf?

Cute werewolves in your area! Click now!

Another full moon, another night of suffering for Chihiro. The poor thing had been stricken with a curse they never could have accounted for: lycanthropy. No matter how many times they thought about it, going over every possibility, they couldn’t figure out what could have caused it. The transformation wasn't comfortable, but after the first few times it felt more like a good stretch instead of the agony of bones elongating and muscles straining. The real pain was the less forgiving clawed fingers making hard to use a keyboard. What was odd to Chihiro was that they kept their mind while transformed, instead of being a wild beast. Looking at themself in the mirror, they came to the conclusion it was because they were not as strong as an average person, making the transformation take less of a hold. Instead of growing a few feet taller and more exaggerated in bodily proportions, Chihiro grew only half a foot taller and maintained a more human-like posture. There was one advantage Chihiro realized after their first transformation, and it was the fact they were now about as strong as Mondo, and even gained some defined muscles. Looking back on that day, Chihiro felt a warm happiness that only slipped away when they remembered what they were, and that it would be impossible to explain to anyone. ---

“Damn Fujisaki, you beat all of your records today! Your training is paying off!” “O-oh wow, thank you Mondo!”

“And was that a six pack I saw? You’re looking great!” “Haha-- it.. It’s all because of my coach!” Mondo was excited to see Chihiro progressing so well on his exercise routine. A little diet adjustment, some high rep- low intensity machine work, and encouragement. He thought he’d need to make some tweaks for them, but as it turned out everything was progressing well. “Could you spot me? I’m gonna work on my bench press” “Of course, I’ll be ready!” Mondo laid back on the cushion after setting the weights to a little more than his usual. Breathing deeply, he lifted the bar and began to get his reps in.

One. No problem.

Two. Feeling that extra 10 pounds.

Three. He can take it.

Four. Maybe just one more.

Five never came, his wrist buckled under the extra stress and quickly, mondo was losing the fight against the bar. In a panic, Chihiro took hold of the bar and lifted it back onto the hooks with little effort, mondo putting in as much strength as he could muster. He took some deep breaths and let his arms flop to his sides. “Holy sh-hit Fujiski…hHow did you get that strong?” “What do you mean?” “You got that off of me no problem! That thing was set at 260 pounds! “It must have been your training, I think!” “Holy shit… I’m a good trainer! Can you help me up?” Mondo stuck out his hand to Chihiro, who took it with some hesitation. Mondo felt his hand get squeezed harder than what he thought their little hand could do, and his weight was pulled from the bench easily Damn, I am a great Trainer! --- Chihiro opened a window to let the night air into their room, and try to get their mind off of what this means for their future. Something in them took over as they stared into the full moon, and almost as naturally as breathing they howled into the night. Other dogs answered the call, but three stood out against the rest. Two howls sounded distinctly feminine to chihiro, and almost familiar. The other was unmistakable. It sounded like Mondo! Chohoro’s tail started to wag in excitement, and the sudden hope that maybe they weren’t alone in this after all

[senorarelojes]

Fic: If You Want (1/1)

A while back, I put up a post asking for writing prompts, so I'm slowly making my way through them. This is for the very lovely @what-could-have-been!

Summary: This prompt from @what-could-have-been: "Dave and Alan (who don't know each other yet) coincidentally happen to go to the gym at the same time. Throughout their exercise they keep eyeing each other on different machines. Then they end up in the showers also at the same time (surprise!), Dave drops his soap or something else on the floor and Alan comes to "help". Aaaand you can probably guess the rest... I was also thinking they could be in their mid-20's or so?” Rating: Mature Notes: (In my head, this is early Music for the Masses era DM)

.

Alan liked Ultra Fitness because it was ten minutes away from his workplace, plus it was also along the way home. So it gave him less of an excuse to skip his workouts. Besides, he was already starting to see the results from his frequent visits. His arms were getting nicely sculpted and garnering compliments from the women in his office, and he could see the beginnings of a six pack in the mirror if he held in his stomach enough. So he made it a habit to keep going after work, even though it was more crowded at that timing.

Before he had ever stepped foot in a gym, Alan had been a bit apprehensive about the type of clientele that frequented gyms - for example, those beefy blokes with necks thicker than their heads who looked like they ate guys like Alan for breakfast. But to his surprise, most of the people at Ultra Fitness were nice, friendly and tended to mind their own business, which was a big bonus in Alan’s book. There were also all sorts of regulars, from the afore-mentioned beefy types to those who were just starting out and looked just as nervous as Alan initially had been. But overall, most of them looked like regular people, just like Alan himself.

By now, Alan had definitely become familiar with a few other people at the gym. There was Daryl, the manager at the reception who seemed to know everyone, as well as Martin and Fletch, two friends who mostly came to use the swimming pool or join the Zumba classes. “Great way to meet women,” Fletch had told Alan once with a wink, waggling his eyebrows as Martin had laughed in agreement. Alan had only smiled; he didn’t like flirting with women (or men) at the gym, thinking that people probably didn’t want to be hit on when they were breathless or sweaty. He himself didn’t want to be disturbed: he would just come in, say hello to Daryl as he signed in, grab a locker, pop in his noise-cancelling earbuds and do his workout in peace. That was his routine, and it only ever deviated if he stopped for a chat with Martin and Fletch at the water dispenser.

However, one day he came back from his workout to find a strange tattooed bloke trying to open his locker.

“Er, can I help you?” Alan said, as the man fiddled uselessly with the lock.

He jumped in surprise when Alan spoke to him. “Oh, sorry. I can’t seem to open my locker,” the bloke said, holding up his access card. The lockers at the gym were first come, first serve, and Alan had a special liking for Locker 101, which was located in a far corner, nearer to the shower stalls. Half the time, it wasn’t taken and he was able to grab it for himself. Alan often wondered who was the other person who seemed to like it just as much as he did, and sometimes beat him to it.

Alan flashed the man an apologetic smile. “Sorry mate, think you’re mistaken. It’s mine today,” he explained, holding up his own card to the lock as it whirred for a moment, then clicked open.

“Fuck!” The tattooed bloke was laughing now, face a little red with embarrassment. “Sorry-- it’s just that I usually snag 101, I must have forgotten today.”

“So it’s you,” Alan said with a laugh, before realising the tattooed guy was looking at him with curiosity. “I mean-- never mind.”

The bloke was smiling at him now. He had a really nice smile, which made him look rather boyish even though he seemed to be around Alan’s age. “Well, wish me luck in finding my locker, then,” he said, dropping Alan a wink.

“Good luck, mate.” Alan couldn’t resist watching him walk away in his fitting gym shorts - it was quite a view - as he began taking out his belongings for a shower.

***

After that, Alan began to notice the tattooed bloke around the gym more often. Like Alan, he did a fair bit of weight-lifting, but he also joined the group classes with Martin and Fletch, the three of them chatting and laughing with many of the female regulars after class. Alan found himself watching them at times, wondering how weird it would be for him to ask Mart and Fletch for Tattooed Bloke’s name. Sometimes he would catch Tattooed Bloke watching him in the mirror too, but Alan never seemed to be able to catch him, Martin and Fletch at the right time.

Thankfully, Alan finally learned his name when he was late to the gym one day, finding Daryl already in conversation with Tattooed Bloke at the reception. “Oh hey Charlie,” Daryl said when he spotted Alan, nodding at him as he handed him a towel. “Got held up at the office?”

“Something like that,” Alan replied, glancing over at Tattooed Bloke who was regarding Alan with great interest.

“Your name is Charlie?” he asked, a grin slowly growing on his face. “Was wondering what your name was, but I didn’t peg you for a ‘Charlie’.”

You were wondering what my name was? Alan wanted to ask, but instead he said, “I’m actually Alan, but Daryl got a kick out of my middle name when he did my membership card.”

“C’mon Dave, don’t you agree with me? Doesn’t ‘Charlie’ suit him a lot better than ‘Alan’?” Daryl asked the tattooed bloke, who was just grinning as his gaze rove up and down Alan’s body.

“Dunno, mate,” Dave said, his eyes lingering on Alan’s arms. “A rose by any other name, y’know?”

Daryl rolled his eyes. “You’re useless,” he complained, throwing a towel in Dave’s face as Alan chuckled.

Taking the towel away, Dave seemed hesitant, like he had something else to say to Alan. Unfortunately, the announcement for the start of the Zumba class blared through the gym’s speakers at that moment, leaving Dave grimacing in frustration.

“I’ll see you around, Charlie,” Dave told him with a wave, before he ran off to the dance studio.

***

Now that Alan knew Dave’s name and they’d been sort of introduced, he found himself wondering what would be a non-cheesy way to strike up a conversation with Dave on the gym floor. They would run into each other quite often; if Alan was using the squat rack, Dave would appear soon after and wait for his turn, often offering to spot Alan. Alan wanted to do the same when it came to Dave’s turn, but Dave seemed to have no end of friends at the gym who volunteered to spot him as well, so Alan had no reason to hang around unless he wanted to look like a lecher, drooling over Dave lifting weights.

That didn’t stop him from watching, though. Alan was very, very good at being very, very sneaky, and he used his abilities to his advantage, watching Dave doing deadlifts in the ubiquitous mirrors around the gym, Dave’s tattoos darkened by his sweat, his muscles gleaming as he huffed and pulled on the bar, his perfectly coiffed hair tumbling over his forehead as he bent down to re-rack the weights. Men like Dave were the reason Alan decided he might not be entirely straight, and that his experimentation in uni hadn’t been just a phase.

However, he still lacked the ability to tell if other blokes were straight, gay, bi or whatever else. Alan thought Fletch and Daryl were unequivocally straight, while Martin definitely pinged his gaydar - not that Alan was interested. As for Dave, he was still a huge question mark as far as Alan was concerned. Dave seemed to watch him a lot, but Dave also flirted with the ladies in yoga class as easily as breathing. So Alan decided to mind his own business, unless Dave made a move first.

After a particularly gruelling workout one evening - Alan really hated leg days - he pushed himself to the showers, picking his favourite stall at the corner and draping his towel over the door. The warm water felt like a relief on his shoulders, which were still sore from yesterday’s workout, and he groaned a little as he rolled his shoulders under the hot shower, cracking his neck before he went about shampooing his hair.

He was just done rinsing his hair when he heard someone stepping into the cubicle beside his, shutting the door and starting their own shower. Whoever it was had a nice voice, humming something that sounded like Sigur Ros. Alan listened absently as he slicked his hair with conditioner, wondering if he should get a haircut soon. His hair was getting a little too long to style into a quiff, and he wondered if he should ignore Flood’s advice and get an undercut this time.

He was just done rinsing out the conditioner when he heard someone curse, “Fuck!” as something clattered to the floor, sliding under the partition over to Alan’s stall. It was a bottle of Axe body wash, which the bloke beside him must have dropped.

Alan picked it up, holding it under the partition that separated their stalls. “This yours, mate?” he asked, but the bloke had already stepped out of his stall and was knocking on Alan’s door.

“Sorry, could you pass me my soap?” he asked, and Alan sighed before he stood up, opening the door to hand him the bottle.

His eyes widened when he saw it was a very wet and very naked Dave, who seemed just as surprised - and pleased - when he saw it was Alan. “Oh, it’s you, Charlie.”

Alan couldn’t stop his eyes from roaming even if someone had a gun to his head. He took in the clear view of Dave’s few tattoos, his smooth chest, his tight brown nipples, the heavy cock between his legs. “Uh, this is yours,” Alan said dumbly after a billion years had passed, holding out the bottle of body wash to Dave like a moron.

Dave licked his lips, stepping forward and backing Alan right into his shower stall again. “Mmm, thanks for your help, mate.” Dave was staring openly at Alan’s mouth now, his tongue running over his lower lip. “Reckon you could help me with something else?”

Alan was breathing hard, taking in Dave’s nearness and his brazen confidence, his seeming certainty in Alan’s attraction. “Help you with what?”

Dave finally took the body wash from him, tipping some into his hands and lathering them into a foam, smiling wickedly at Alan as he did so. “Help me soap up my back, yeah? It’s so hard to reach.”

Alan was distantly aware that this felt like some kind of porn scenario, but he couldn’t care less as he grabbed the shower gel from Dave, soaping up his own hands before he leaned in and kissed Dave hungrily, his soapy hands roaming all over Dave’s back. Dave moaned softly into his mouth, his hands running all over Alan’s chest before rubbing at his nipples, making Alan gasp into their kiss.

“Fuck, wanted you for ages,” Dave breathed out before nipping at Alan’s lips again, guiding them both under the stream of water. It was all so slick and hot and steamy, frotting against some handsome stranger in the gym shower stalls where anyone could walk past and hear their moans and gasps. As hard as Alan tried to be quiet, it became impossible when Dave wrapped a soap-slick hand around his cock, pumping him in swift efficient strokes that had Alan’s knees weakening in the shower.

“C’mon, Charlie, c’mon,” Dave whispered against the shell of his ear, his own cock pressed against Alan’s hip, hard and hot and insistent. Alan wanted so badly to wrap his hand around it, put it in his mouth, but he lost all train of thought when Dave bit down on his neck, his hand speeding up on Alan’s cock as he came all over Dave’s stomach in a hushed moan.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Dave nuzzled against Alan’s cheek with a soft gasp, Alan reaching down for a few clumsy strokes before warm spurts of come landed on his hip, quickly washed away by the stream of water.

They were both panting now, arms loosely wrapped around each other, Dave’s back still covered with soap. Once Alan realised this, he grabbed Dave by the shoulders to angle him towards the water and get it washed off. Dave initially was filled with panic, as though afraid Alan would shove him out of his stall. But once he figured out what Alan was up to, he laughed and pressed a kiss to the side of Alan’s head. His lips felt warm, nice.

“Can I take you out to dinner?” Dave asked quietly, rubbing slow circles over Alan’s shoulder. “I swear I wanted to take you out first before doing this, but-- fuck, you looked so fuckin’ irresistable, mate. All warm and wet, y’know?”

Alan had to chuckle in agreement. “Yeah, I do know.”

Dave pulled away to look at him. His eyes - green? brown? - were serious as they regarded Alan. “So it’s a yes to dinner, then?”

Alan rolled his eyes. “If you haven’t clued in to the fact that I just got you off in the shower, then I don’t know what to say.”

“Idiot.” Dave flashed him a sunny, relieved grin as he ducked out of the shower stall. “I’ll see you outside, then.”

***

Dave was waiting for Alan at the reception counter, chatting animatedly with Martin, Fletch and Daryl. However, he straightened up immediately when he spotted Alan, ignoring all of his friends at a drop of a hat. “Hey Charlie.”

Fletch was frowning deeply in confusion. “Wait, isn’t his name Alan?”

Alan shrugged at Fletch, smiling when Dave came up to him and took his hand in his, making everyone’s eyebrows shoot up to the ceiling. “A rose by any other name, y’know?” Alan quipped, grinning at a stunned Fletch.

“Hey, that’s my line,” Dave said with a laugh, tugging Alan by the hand and out the door. “Don’t wait up, fellas.”

[untaemedqueen]

Pirouette (M)

Ballet Teacher!Jimin x Wife!Reader

Request:  Can i request a ballet teacher jimin, who is strict in his classes and when his wife decides to join the classes, he tries his best to be sweet but it's hard because she's not really taking the lead and he shouts on her which causes her to cry and then he makes up to her in a sweet way, and some smut.😀

Warnings: Semi-Public Sex, Fingering, Unprotected Sex (Wrap and Tap Y’know The Deal), Choking, Impreg Kink (Very Slight), Cream Pie

A/N: i don’t know very much about ballet, I’m sorry. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

"Cheonsa, baby. Second position." Jimin tells his daughter as she grips the bar. You were impressed with how far she's come since just two months ago. It was probably because Jimin is such a great teacher. He lifts her chin with his index finger before kissing her nose. 

"Good job, baby girl." He whispers before standing up straighter. 

"Fourth position." Jimin says loudly in the quiet dance studio, one ankle in front of the other facing opposite directions. His thigh muscles jutting out as he places one arm out in a curve and one curved over his head. Cheonsa copies him before smiling at you, her left front tooth missing making you smirk. 

"Good job, babe." You call to her before looking back at your shirtless husband. His eight pack contorting and pressing against his skin as he looks over at his daughter. 

"She can contort so well because her joints are like putty at such a young age." Jimin informs you before smiling at his little girl. You wish you were this flexible. This is so impressive to look at. 

"Let's take a break." Jimin claps loudly as you throw him a bottle of water. He hums in agreement before sitting on the floor and pulling his daughter into his lap. He sips the water before handing it to Cheonsa, his fingers fixing her hair into a neater bun before kissing her cheek loudly. 

"My little angel girl. You're doing so well!" He says before tickling her, her sharp laugh echoing through the dance studio making you chuckle. 

"Mommy, will you do dance too?" Jimin snorts at Cheonsa's question, earning a glare from you. 

"Maybe! I can try!" Jimin leans back on his hands as Cheonsa gets up. 

"What're you saying? You're going to join my ballet classes?" You tilt your head, you don't see any reason not to, it could very well be fun and even help you become more limber. 

"Yeah! Sure! I'll join!" You say confidently which has Jimin pressing his lips together. You've seen him teaching kids but never adults. It's different in the adult realm of ballet. It's harsher and more demanding of folks. 

"I'm not sure you're going to like it." Jimin mumbles watching as his daughter pirouettes in front of the mirror. 

"If you're there anything is fun!" You tell your husband, he cringes at your words before tilting his head unsurely. "Just don't divorce me." 

Jimin smiles widely as he enters the dance studio, his eyes scanning the women in their leotards before his eyes land on you. He hums to himself quietly pleased with how you look before clapping his hands. 

"We have a new student today, Y/N. We'll try to be lenient until she progresses a bit more, hmm?" He calls out to the class, the women nodding before looking over at you and smiling. You smile back before pulling at your tights. They were...uncomfortable. Jimin had been in a rush this morning getting Cheonsa to school and so he accidentally packed you the most ITCHY leg wear possibly ever made. 

"We'll start with stretching." Jimin announces before taking off his shirt and turning on the ballet music. As everyone begins to stretch, you copy their actions watching how limber these girls are. They could wrap their legs around their heads! You could barely touch your toes without gasping for air and spots forming in your eyes. Jimin begins to stretch before eyeing you. His lips quirking upwards as you bend down. You know all of the positions, it's getting you into the positions that was going to take some time. 

"Jiyoung, stretch on the bar." Jimin tells his best student before standing up and stretching his arms. His feet pad towards you and you raise your head. His hand pressing on your lower back. 

"Go lower." He tells you quietly and you look up at him wide eyed. 

"I can't." You mumble already stretching to the best of your ability. 

"Yeah, well. You have to." He whispers before crouching down in front of you, his fingers carding through his hair before clearing his throat. 

"Lower. Touch my hand." He says placing his hand on the floor. Your back muscles begging for relief as you try to stretch farther. Jimin turns his head to the other women as they watch on. 

"Go through your positions." He tells them before bringing his attention back to you. 

"Come on, babe." He mumbles impatiently earning a dirty look from you. You touch his fingers before groaning and he stands up quickly without helping you. 

"Good." He says before leaving you to your own devices. You stand back up with a scowl before fixing your tight bun. 

"Acting like a fucking prick." You mumble to yourself as Jimin molds the other girls accordingly. 

"Do it right or don't do it at all." He tells a girl at the far end of the room folding his arms. You blanch at his harshness as he folds his arms. You watch him through the large mirrored wall. The way his jaw flexes in annoyance. This was a lot different than seeing him teach Cheonsa that's for sure. 

"Yes, sir." The girl at the end mumbles before straightening her posture. 

"Good. Again." He says backing up. He watches her go to sixth position once more before nodding. "It's fine. Legs up on the bar."

You turn your head wearily to the tall bar behind you, "Grip it and then bring your leg up. Quickly. Before Jimin gets mad." The girl now known to you as Jiyoung whispers fiercely next to you as he watches the girls at the end do so. You look over at the girl with a raised eyebrow, of course no one knows he's your husband. It's just better off that way. Especially since you're embarrassing yourself with your terrible form. 

"Are you 87 years old? Do it right." He tells a girl with a sharp voice and you go wide eyed grabbing the bar. This is insane, why is he so fucking nasty?! Jimin sighs loudly.

"Do we want to be the best?!" His voice is sharp cutting through the ballet music. 

"Yes!" They reply quickly. 

"Then. Do. It. Correctly. Let's go. Legs up. Arms over your heads." Jiyoung looks over at you before doing as told. 

"Y/N!" She mumbles to you as you grab the bar and try to lift your leg up. Jimin's head turns sharply to you before pressing his lips together. His feet stomp over before nodding to the bar. 

"Go on." You raise your leg before looking at him incredulously. He places his hands on your sides behind you before leaning in to your ear.

"Raise your leg like you did last night when I fucked you." He mumbles making you blush. 

"How the fuck am I supposed to do that?" You whisper fiercely turning your head to him. 

"Baby, you gotta do it. Lift your leg like when you put it on my shoulder." He steps back before nodding at the bar. You whine quietly before doing as told. Your thigh muscles tensing and screaming for help. 

"That's my good girl." He whispers to you before winking. He motions to put your hands over your head and you do so. He smirks before clapping. 

"Stretch your backs out ladies come on. What're you waiting for? An invitation?" You look over at Jiyoung who eyes you wearily. As she stretches she looks you over before nodding to herself. 

"You're Jimin's wife." She says before putting her leg down and stretching the other. You clear your throat before nodding. 

"Why'd you join?"  You can hear Jimin's sharp voice making you jump as you lean in to Jiyoung. 

"I thought it would have been fun." She snorts before folding her body over her leg. "Better drop out now, Mrs. Park. Your husband is not fun in this room." 

Jiyoung was right, Jimin was basically a drill sergeant. He had a sharp voice and attitude in his classes which was so surprising seeing as how he was this fun loving, adoring husband at home. It was surprising to you to see him so nasty to his students, you really didn't expect him to be like that at all. You did promise to stick with the classes though, because although your body hurt it was really wonderful to feel yourself able to run after Cheonsa easier and you felt healthier. 

"Okay, baby girl. One more time. Find the spot you will stare at and turn three times. Hmm?" Jimin asks sweetly to his daughter as he sits next to you in the empty ballet studio. You watch him wearily as he smiles at Cheonsa as she does as told. 

"Good job, baby girl!" Jimin claps happily before jumping up and grabbing his daughter. Throwing her six year old form in the air before easily catching her and spinning her around. She giggles happily before hugging his neck tightly.

 "Did I do good, daddy?" Jimin hums happily. 

"Of course you did!" You smirk at the sight before standing. 

"Mommy does good, too. Right?" Jimin smiles at Cheonsa before kissing her forehead. 

"Mommy is doing a good job, too." You snort before grabbing Cheonsa's bag and jacket. 

"Let's go change so we can go home." Jimin sets her down and like a rocket, she's off to the dressing room.

"Nutcracker Suite, I'm sure you know the ballet. We'll be performing for the Korean Tourism Association. There will be an audition process to see who is going to be our star." He looks at Jiyoung indirectly making you roll your eyes. You don't want to be in a ballet recital. You came for exercise but here you are, going to have to audition. You had been working at ballet for a few months and you had seemingly improved. Everyone in the class tells you so and Jiyoung is always on standby to help you and give you advice. It's just Jimin, he makes the class difficult to be in, with his sharp nagging and short cut words it makes you see a different side of him you really don't like. 

"Let's stretch and then we'll begin to practice for the Nutcracker." Jimin studies your form before leaning against the wall. Of course you were struggling but you had improved, you've never done this before. He was proud of you, but he wishes you were better. The whole class knew you were his wife now. He couldn't hide it, even if he was still sharp tongued with you it was always less so than what he would give the other girls. In his own selfish way, he wanted you to be better than the other girls. You were his wife after all. He felt like he had to prove something. As you stretch, Jimin sighs gently. 

"Bab- Y/N, you've got to stretch farther." He calls to you and you choose to ignore it. Jimin licks his lips before folding his arms. 

"Y/N!" His voice is sharp and loud, hurting your ear drums as you take a deep inhale through your nose and standing up straight. You tilt your head at him copying his stance. 

"What, you not gonna listen to me?" He asks loudly, shutting off the music. 

"I was stretching." You tell him, raising an eyebrow as the girls seem to stop what they're doing to watch the growing tension. 

"Yeah and I told you to do better." You put your head back before laughing gently. 

"I was doing my best." You say clapping your hands together before rolling your head to look at him. Jimin smirks before pushing his hair back. 

"Your best isn't good enough then. Is it? All these girls work tirelessly to produce the best results! You have to be better than you are right now. You can't be the best if you don't even fucking try." You take a step back before clearing your throat. Well, that was a punch in the gut. You look over at the girls before turning your head as your tear ducts begin to burn. It was stupid to join this class and still stay in it even after you know how Jimin was. He was like this with everyone, it wasn't just you but even still, it hurts. You look up at the ceiling before turning to the bar and hooking your ankle up on it. Jimin puts the music back on and bites his bottom lip. He's gone too far, he's embarrassed his own wife. 

"Fuck." He whispers to himself before rubbing his hands over his face. Jiyoung leans over and whispers comfortingly in your ear and Jimin can see how red your neck is. You're crying. 

"Oh fuck." He mumbles nervously before looking at the other girls. 

"Continue." He tells them before walking over to you. His hands pressing at your sides as he clears his throat. 

"Baby." He whispers gently, the gentleness in his voice makes you chuckle. You wipe at your tear streaked face before staring at the wall in front of you. 

"Don't touch me." You tell him sternly and he drops his hands. He rounds your body before leaning against the bar and putting his hands on either side of your face. He doesn't care if his girls see him. You are what is most important, even if his outburst showed the opposite. 

"Baby, I'm sorry." He says to you. He wipes at your cheeks with his thumbs and you sneer at him pulling your ankle off of the bar. 

"You're a prick." You tell him, making him sigh. You pull the bobby pins out of your hair, your long hair falling in rivets over your shoulders as Jimin watches you defeated. 

"Baby. I'm sorry! I shouldn-'' You cut him off by throwing the bobby pins at him making him nod his head. He deserves it. You did this to be with him and here he was not caring about your feelings and only his. Your eyes spill over with tears making Jimin's heart break. 

"Babe." He says lifting his hands trying to hold you. You undo the ribbons of your ballet slippers before picking them up and chucking them at his face. 

"Y/N! I'm sorry, baby! Really!" He says quickly as you sob gently. He shoves himself off of the bar trying to grab your hands but you're too quick. You back away from him making him sigh as you storm out of the ballet studio with your bag and your shoes. 

"BABY!" Jimin yells loudly as the door slams shut, the thud resounding throughout the room as Jimin puts his hands over his face. 

"Fuck!" He curses loudly before taking a deep breath. His body acutely remembering the girls to his left as he turns his head. 

"If you'll excuse me. Practice or stretch or something." He tells them before rushing out of the room to catch you.

Jimin is quick to burst through the door of the women's changing room. He could hear your gentle sobs as he storms through the rows of small metal lockers. His head dipping into every aisle before finally finding you in the last line of the metal containers. You were sitting on the wooden bench in the middle of the aisle. Your hands over your face as you whimper gently. 

"Aish." Jimin whispers sadly before throwing himself on to his knees in front of you. His bones smacking with force into the floor making him cringe before grabbing at your knees. 

"My baby. I'm so so sorry. Fuck, I'm sorry babe." He says quietly as you sniffle. 

"You're so fucking mean. I hate you." You whimper out wiping at your pink cheeks. Jimin kisses your clothed knees gently. 

"I'm sorry babe. Really, I am. I should have never said something like that to you. I'm a prick." He mumbles before kneeling straighter and hugging you tightly. You press your forehead into his shoulder hugging him back. Your tears coating his chest as you bite your bottom lip to bite back on your sobs. 

"I just wanted to have fun with you, because you're so passionate about it. I wanted to experience it." Jimin presses his lips into a straight line before petting your head. 

"I know, fuck, I know. I'm sorry." He whispers before kissing the side of your head. You sniffle once more before pulling away from him. Jimin leans back before pressing both of his hands to either side of your head. His plush, full lip pressing against your gently as he closes his eyes. 

"You mean so much more to me that this class. I'm sorry I embarrassed you. I just get worked up." He says connecting his forehead to yours. Of course, you were going to accept his apology. He is your husband after all, and on top of that you could see his genuine guilt. Jimin sighs before getting up and sitting next to you on the bench. His hands clasping yours before running his thumb over your wedding band. 

"I'll never embarrass you again. I swear it." You nod to him before wiping at your face. 

"I just won't come anymore. It'll be better that way." Jimin tilts his head before nodding. 

"Whatever you want, baby." You sigh before standing up and taking off the leotard. Jimin's eyes take in your naked body before clearing his throat. 

"Fuck, you're gorgeous." He mumbles to himself as you turn away from him.

Your bare ass on display as you bend over to open up the bag of clothes. Jimin isn't sure what to do, he can feel his cock becoming hard but after what just happened he wasn't sure if you would be receptive to his advances. His horny mind betrays him as he squeezes at your supple backside. 

"Chim." You whisper sharply as he dips his hand between your thighs and stands up. His body pressing into yours as he fingers at your closed pussy lips. 

"Park Jimin." You say to him as you grab your panties. Jimin hums to you before knocking your ankles open with his. Your body folded over the bench as you take a sharp inhale. 

"Let me make it up to you, baby." He mumbles before kissing down your back. You sigh gently at the feeling of his lips. They were one of your favorite parts of your husband. But, you shouldn't he has a class waiting for him and they could come in looking for him at any second. Which you voice to him only to be told, 

"Let them see me fucking my wife. I don't care." Your lower body begins to unfurl in heated passion as his fingers rub small circles on your clit. 

"Fuck, I want you." Jimin mumbles into your back as his erection grazes against your ass. You stand back up only to turn to him. 

"You shouldn't do this." You tell him as he hooks his arm around your waist pulling you against his body. Your bare breasts snacking into his chest as he leans down to capture your lips. 

"That's why it's fun." He groans as he fingers at your entrance, your pussy was soaked for him. Just the simplest of touches from him could have you gushing waterfalls. You gasp into his mouth, earning his tongue over yours as he enters a finger into you. His finger pumping in and out slowly as he rubs at your clit with his thumb. 

"Fuck!" You whimper putting your head back. 

"Still such a tight little cunt after having my baby. Fuck." He whispers before pulling down his tights. His hard cock springing out as precum begins to stream down his length. His cock was so thick it makes your mouth water and all you want to do is have it inside of you. Completely forgetting the nervousness you were feeling not too long ago as lust encases your entire being. 

"Let me fuck you." Jimin mumbles before kissing down your neck. His lips sucking pretty cherry blossom colored patches on your skin before leaving wet kisses on your chest. You can hear how heavy you are breathing as your head lulls back. Jimin's tongue darting out to lick at your nipple before suckling at your areola. 

"Oh fuck! Baby." You moan grabbing at his black hair. He groans in agreement as he pumps his fingers faster inside of you. Your wetness running over his hand and your thighs as you bite your bottom lip to quiet your whimpers. Jimin pulls his hand out of you only to stroke your wetness over his cock. 

"I can smell how badly you want my cock. Turn around." He mumbles pulling away from you.

You turn your body, pressing your hands on the bench to give yourself support as Jimin smacks your ass. A small gasp emitting from you as you close your eyes. 

"I love you so much." He tells you brushing his cock against your pussy. His eyes ogling how huge his cock looks as the head prods at your small hole. 

"I love you too." He smirks before entering you in one swift motion. Both of you moaning gently as he gives you no time to adjust to his size. His hand gripping at the back of your neck as he begins to fuck you. 

"Oh Christ! Your pussy feels so fucking good. Every time." Jimin's free hand kneading at the flesh of your ass as he pounds into you mercilessly. His tongue licking at his lips as your legs begin to shake. You bite your bottom lip to quiet yourself as you mewl for his cock. 

"Fuck, you're so wet for me. Shit." Jimin's voice was loud and uncaring if anyone could hear him. The sound of your wet cunt being battered by his cock resounding throughout the changing room. 

"You love my cock, don't you baby?" You nod furiously gripping at the edge of the bench. 

"Let me hear that sexy voice. How much do you love my cock?" You gasp as he stills his cock inside of you. He pulls you upright before hooking your leg up on the bench. 

"I love your cock! So much! I love it when you fuck me!" You whine for him, making Jimin hum in agreement. His fingers beginning to roll your nipples inbetween his fingertips as he begins to fuck you once more. His lips gliding over the base of your neck as he moans gently. 

"Oh fuck. You feel so amazing." His hand dipping between your thighs to rub at your swollen clit. 

"Yes!" You moan, putting your head back on his shoulder as he presses his hand to your throat squeezing gently. 

"So fucking willing to take my cock in such an open setting. You're so perfect." His praise has you squeezing your eyes shut as the band within you tightens. Your cunt begins to spasm as Jimin moans loudly. 

"So close to cumming deep inside your cute little cunt. Fuck!" His hand rubbing quicker circles as you moan his name. 

"I want your cum deep inside me!" 

"Yeah? You like that? Want to get filled up and have my cum leak out of your pretty little pussy? Feeling my cum run in between these sexy thighs? Hmm?" His voice is a hiss as he grits his teeth. Your hand grabbing at his on your throat as you moan for him. 

"Maybe I'll fuck a baby into you too. Hmm? How about that? Fuck you real good and make a little baby." Jimin moans gently as his balls begin to tighten. The feeling of his hand on your throat, his other hand stimulating your clit and his cock furiously pounding into you was too much. The band inside of you tightening fully as you whimper his name out. 

"Cum on my cock. Fuck. Be a good girl and cream all over me, baby." You grip at his hand tighter, your nails digging into skin as you moan loudly. 

"Just like that." You moan to him as he groans loudly, the head of his cock brushing your cervix entrance with every thrust. His grip on your neck tightens and you can't take anymore. Your orgasm hitting you with waves of pleasure as you sob out for him. Your body feeling like jello as you ride out your high. 

"Oh shit! So fucking tight." Jimin moans letting go of your throat before grabbing at your hips and bulldozing himself inside of you. 

"So fucking close! Gunna cum!" He mumbles biting at your shoulder before groaning loudly. His hips giving a few small pumps before stilling inside you. Jimin moans gently pressing his forehead into your back before hugging you tightly. 

"Fuck." He mumbles euphorically before kissing your shoulder. You hug his arms around you tightly as you stand there, the both of you trying to regain your breath. 

"I love you." He whispers before pulling out. 

"I love you too." He sits down on the bench before spreading open your pussy lips and watching his cum seep out of you. His tongue licking at his lips before smirking up at you. 

"I'm still mad at you for being mean to me." You tell him as you grab your underwear. He nods, grabbing your discarded leotard and wiping at your thighs before wiping his own cock. 

"I know. I love you. I'm sorry." You nod to him before bending down and kissing him. 

"When I get home later I'll make it up to you again, hmm? How about that?" He whispers before rubbing at your sides. You smile down at him and he responds by giving you a big smile himself. 

"Alright." He hums before wrinkling his nose. 

"You should get back, they're waiting for you." You tell him as he cards his fingers through his hair. He looks up quickly. 

"Oh fuck!" He mumbles picking up his tights. 

"I forgot about them." He whispers making you laugh loudly. 

"I love you baby." You kiss gently before slipping on your undies. 

"I love you too. Go on." You tell him shooing him away. 

"I'll make it up to you later! I swear!" He yells out as he jogs out of sight. Although he had embarrassed you, it was a good feeling to know how much he was sorry. Jimin was one way at his job but you were still priority. And, when he got home he did show you how sorry he really was.

[shreddeddad]

Side Shaper Pro Preview: Core Isolator from G on Vimeo.

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-- What is the Side Shaper? --

The Side Shaper Pro is an abdominal machine that mimics a reverse crunch / hanging knee raise.

It isolates the abdominals and obliques really well.

What makes the Side Shaper different is that you don’t have to hang over a pull up bar so there’s no grip strength or swinging involved.

-- How Does The Side Shaper Pro Work? --

The Side Shaper works by driving your legs up against gravity through a guided path.

While your legs rest on foam pads, you bring them up towards your chest.

Couple that with a swivel that turns your legs side to side and all the focus goes to your abdominals and obliques.

-- Side Shaper Pros & Cons --

Pros

No Swinging: Unlike hanging knee raises from a pull up bar, there is no swinging of the legs so you can’t cheat

No Grip Limitations: Grip weaknesses are taken out of the exercise so you focus solely on your core

Progressions: Three levels of incline make this machine easy to use even for beginners

Comfortable: Padding on all points of contact are soft (hands, forearms, and knees)

Tracking: LCD monitor keeps track of your reps and pulse

Core Strengthening: Strengthen your abdominals and obliques with one machine

Cons

No Six Pack: Just like with ALL core exercises or machines, you won’t get abs from doing 1000 reps on this.

A six pack and definition is mostly about nutrition.

Does the Side Shaper work to get your core stronger? Absolutely!

Combine the Side Shaper with a healthy diet and you’ll have a defined and rock solid mid section.

-- Side Shaper Discount Code --

Go to ShreddedDad.com/SideShaper and use coupon code SAS25 for a discount

-- Side shaper Pro Review --

Does the Side Shaper work?

Yes, knee raises against gravity with a twist are tough and I definitely feel the burn.

I like that all the focus goes to my midsection since I’m not hanging off a pull up bar and there’s no swinging of my body involved.

And they throw in a DVD and nutritional guide so it makes it easier to follow a plan in the quest for defined abs.

If you have space for an ab machine in your home gym, this one really puts an emphasis on the entire core.

--

Go to ShreddedDad.com for home gym equipment reviews

Need garage gym ideas? Go to shreddeddad.com/garage-gym-ideas

Exclusive discount gym equipment ShreddedDad.com/discount-gym-equipment

Subscribe to my YouTube channel ShreddedDad.com/YouTube

--

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Side Shaper Pro Preview: Core Isolator

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Snowed In

Y'all, the quarantine hit hard. This fic is 100% self serving but I'm posting it in case it makes anyone else feel better? To add some spicy self loathing to my day? who knows. 

No legit pairings, a tiny bit of hinting angstiness, for the sake of form, Geralt x fem!reader

Warnings: defs big warning for anxiety and depression. I don't think there's anything else? Lmk if there is and I'll edit this.

__________

“Snowed in?” you repeated, having just packed everything up and saddled both Roach and your horse Beau. 

Geralt nodded grimly, “We’ll just have to hope Jaskier hears of the weather before he tries to make it here. The mail carrier is refusing to ride the pass.”

You heaved your saddlebags down with a slightly over dramatic grunt before turning to face him, “Is it a passing storm or do they think it’s headed for us?”

He shrugged and began untacking Roach, “You’ll have to ask the innkeeper. I just heard from someone who was turned back.” 

You both finished putting the horses back in their stalls, throwing a little extra hay over the side in case you didn’t want to face the cold after dinner. The innkeeper looked frantic, attempting to deal with about five angry customers, so you headed for the connected tavern instead. In your experience, bartenders knew more scuttlebutt anyway. 

Surprisingly you two were the only ones in the bar. The pretty blonde poured the two of you a beer and slapped a loaf of bread down between you before you could utter a word of request. Something rather unusual since traveling with Geralt. 

“How long do you think this will last?” you asked, handing the woman a couple of gold coins. 

She shrugged, “Last year it was mild. Just a week I think? But the year before that the town was stuck for almost a month.”

“Hm- huh? What day is it?” you mumbled as Geralt shook you awake. 

“Twenty-three. Get up.” He ordered. The process had become routine. The two of you were stuck in a rather small room together due to overcrowding and you weren’t handling the idle time very well. 

Geralt seemed completely content to meditate by the fire and meticulously repair his armor for the rest of eternity. While you had quickly become catatonic. 

You sat up only because you knew he would lift you out of the bed completely if you didn’t do it yourself, “Ah yes, what a beautiful day to feed the horses and drink our weight in ale.” 

The sarcasm dripping from your voice only earned a stern look from your roommate. The inn had run out of the drinkable stuff last week and they were rationing little the piss water they had left.

You scratched at your hair, your hand recoiling at the feel of grease. There was nothing to do, the floor space between the bed and the fire was barely big enough for Geralt to sit cross-legged, let alone for you to do any sort of exercise to keep your mood up. Not that you would if you could anyway. Any motivation to keep some sort of normalcy had left your body around day ten. The innkeeper had let some guests spar in the lobby around day six but everyone scattered when you had attempted to join. Something about ‘the witcher’s girl’ and how ‘she might gut you out of habit’. People could be stupid, you weren’t a witcher any more than they were and even so, Geralt was calmer and more restrained than all of them combined.  

So, embracing the numbness, you stayed in bed well into the afternoon and long after Geralt had left his side of the bed.

“Did I miss breakfast again?” you asked, not making a move to get any farther from your warm blankets.

Geralt nodded, pointing to the small table near the door where some bread,  cheese, and dried meat sat waiting. 

You picked at it for his benefit, though you hadn’t really been hungry for a few days now. The storm raging outside was just about as strong as the one raging through your hollow insides. This inaction, the unknowing, the vulnerability was killing you. 

“Y/N, you need to eat more than the crumbs.” Geralt urged, moving to sit in the chair opposite to you. 

“I tried.” You sighed, “Can’t I just lay back down?”

He shook his head, “No. You’re letting this consume you. You’re tougher than this.”

You scowled at him, wanting to throw the bread in his face, “Fuck you. Nothing bothers you.”

“Your behavior is bothering me.” he countered, staring at you with a mix of worry and annoyance.

“Well isn’t that touching.” You sighed in mock flattery. Abandoning any idea of food, you got up to sit by the fire,  poking at it aggressively with an iron rod and making a point to face away from him. 

“What in the spheres is your problem?” He growled.

“Being stuck here with nothing to do?” you offered, your tone reminiscent of the young spoiled princess the two of you had saved from a wraith a few months back. 

“That’s not it. I know when you’re lying Y/N”

Your limbs felt like they might float away into the air if you didn’t curl up into a ball, “I don’t want to talk about it Geralt. I’m sorry for snapping. I just need a couple of minutes.”

“You’ve needed ‘a couple of minutes’ for the past two weeks. Time to talk.” he argued. 

You snorted, “That’s rich coming from you. You didn’t tell me you’d been stabbed until right before you passed out in Temeria.”

“I’ve tried learning from my mistakes.” his tone was one of convincing the both of you, “What's bothering you? Really.”

“I don’t fucking know Geralt.” you hissed, getting very tired of his prying.

You heard him sit back and cross his arms, “Not good enough.”

You felt the words leave your throat before you could think of their meaning, spewing out with vitriol and fire, “I’m fucking tired. I’m tired of you telling me what to do. I’m tired of watching snow pile up out the damn window. I’m tired of the stupid couple that fucks all night next door. I’m tired of this worry that feels like it will rip me apart at any fucking moment from just not fucking knowing. I’m tired of worrying about Jaskier. I’m tired of worrying about the horses getting stocked up when there’s nothing I can do to help them. I’m tired of the glares from the other guests. I’m tired of feeling powerless. I’m tired of having no decent outlet for this anxious energy I’m stuck with. I’m tired of not knowing when this feeling will go away. And I’m absolutely fucking exhausted by the thought that it’s only been twenty-fucking-three days yet I feel I’ve been trapped here for a god-damned-eternity.” 

The last sentence broke your resolve to stay angry. Upon pushing the last words from your lungs, you heaved a deep breath and let the sobs tear your chest apart, giving in to the hopelessness that had been building for weeks now. 

You heard a shuffling that registered in the back of your mind as Geralt sitting behind you, but even so, you flinched when a hand rested on your shoulders. He scooped one hand under your knees and pulled you onto his lap, pulling a blanket from the bed and wrapping it around the two of you. He let you sob until the sobs turned to whimpers.

“I didn’t realize, I’m sorry Y/N” he whispered, placing a gentle kiss on the top of your hair, sending a flood of warmth to your cheeks.

“You don’t need to be.” you croaked, leaning into his affection.

“I didn’t need to pry either.” He argued.

You just hummed in reply, too much of your energy spent on purging your system of those hideous sobs. You did make a noise of protest when he lifted you from his lap and set you beside him on the floor. 

“Stay by the fire, I’ll be back.” He instructed, the tenderness of his voice surprising you. 

Minutes later, as you were beginning to pull yourself back together, he returned with a terry cloth robe and what smelled like fresh jasmine soap. Without a word, he hoisted you into his arms and carried you across the room to the bathroom. He set you on your feet and handed you the robe and soap before turning his attention to the lever pump hanging over the ceramic tub. 

“A bath?” You tried to bring your usual playful tone back to life and failed miserably.

“Does it make you uncomfortable?” 

You shook your head, “I’m just…” slightly disoriented? you finished the sentence in your head, not sure how to phrase it.

“Not used to anyone accommodating your emotions.” he finished, a knowing look in his eyes reminding you just how much he knew of isolation and pain. 

As you nodded you had to mentally remind yourself you have to let people help you, that it’s okay to let people help you.

You didn’t bother waiting for him to leave before you peeled off your riding breeches. Melitele only knows how long you’d gone without changing them. You had more trouble unlacing the cinched waist blouse you’d been wearing the last four days. The restless tossing and turning you’d done instead of sleeping had it knotted four times over. When you’d finally rid yourself of every last thread the tub was full. 

Geralt traced a sign in the water, sending ripples over the surface and steam up in the air, “Shouldn’t be too hot, but test it first.” He mumbled, making an effort not to stare at you too long. 

It was rather hot but you had exposed yourself enough for one day. You took the hand he offered for balance and sank into the nearly scalding water without hesitation.

He knelt next to you, “If you wish to be alone-”

“No.” You interrupted, not having the courage to look up at him, “Please don’t go.” The words barely escaped your mouth, but Geralt heard them perfectly fine.

He wet a washcloth and lathered it with soap before handing it off to you. With the rest of the bar, he began washing your hair. At first, his hands were hesitant, as if he was afraid to hurt you. He paused when you gave up scrubbing the sweat and dirt from behind your knees, but only for a moment. You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes. His nails scratched at the base of your skull, coaxing a sigh from your lips. As he massaged the soap through the tangled mess he took his time with the tension in your temples, then the pressure points behind your ears, even working out the knots in your neck. You did your best not to moan, but a couple of gasps and pleased grunts may have slipped out.  He rested a hand between your shoulders and guided you back, dipping your hair into the water to rid it of the froth he’d created. 

You peeked up at him through your lashes. If he noticed he didn’t show it. His face was relaxed, almost serene, as he raked his fingers through your hair, gently tugging on the bigger tangles. You hadn’t ever taken the time to look at his eyes before, he seemed uncomfortable over them when you’d met so you left him alone about it. Looking at them now, you regretted it. They were a beautiful mix of honey, sunflowers, and glittering gold. And they were so kind. The idea that people spat at him when they recognized his eyes made your heart ache. 

With a slight nudge from him, you sat back up, all the tension in your body having melted in the hot water or under his touch. You pulled your knees to your chest, resting your arms across them and your chin on your arms. The events of the day had you feeling like a child who’d gone too long without a nap being soothed back to sleep. If you were being honest with yourself you missed the feeling of safety that came with someone taking care of you. 

Geralt brushed your favorite oils through your hair, doing his best not to pull through knots too roughly, but it was in the same bun for about four days. 

You let your tired mind wander as you watched snow fall out the small port window above the tub. The comb had failed to detect any knots in your hair for some time but it seemed Geralt was just as lost in thought as you.

Eventually the water grew cold and you had to accept this couldn’t go on forever. 

“I think I might need to get out soon.” you mumbled, inspecting your pruney fingers. Everything in you was telling you to stay. Stay in this safe place with your gentle guardian. But you knew if you didn’t get out soon you’d never warm up, fire or not. Not to mention you knew you were taking Geralt’s actions more to heart than they were meant. He simply felt guilty for pushing you too far. 

That didn’t mean you wanted him gone though. You were more than happy to live the lie for a little while longer.

"I'll go check the horses." He offered, placing a towel and the robe within your reach. 

"Thank you, Geralt. For not… I don't know? Laughing at me?" You refused to look at him, being vulnerable enough as you already were. 

"Y/N…" he said your name like it meant something but you couldn't figure out what, "You never have to thank me. I owe you so much more than a hot bath and kind words." 

You turned your head to argue but when you saw his expression the words died on your tongue. All you could offer in response was a small smile.

It seemed to be enough for him and he nodded before disappearing through the door, leaving you to ponder what he'd meant. 

_________

Part 2 here!

[spytap]

That Time I Maybe Accidentally Slid Between Universes On The Lower East Side: A Modern Pizza Brigadoon

Okay, we’re trying this again. With the words. Let’s give it a shot.

I was telling this story over the weekend, and it struck me that it’s something I’ve never really written down. But I think it’s worth documenting - you know, for science.

I guess I have to preface this by saying that I’m not the type of person to accept the unexplainable. In the Mulder/Scully matrix of assumptions, I lean much more Scully, assuming that most things have a reasonable explanation once more data is uncovered or known. I say that just so that I can say that one time while on a business trip to New York, I’m pretty sure I drunkenly dropped back and forth between parallel universes Sliders-style while trying to grab a slice.

Right, so let’s set the stage of our merry little fever dream of a play, shall we?

It’s 1:30am and I am drunk.

Wait, let’s be clear: I’m not just “I’m in New York and let’s have some fun” drunk, I’m “we’re at a digital media event and it’s the late oughts” drunk. I think it was the Webbies, but who knows. It could have been social media week or any number of other things. But if you were in the DM scene at the time, you remember (or not…) that any event which brought together the weird crossover between tech, social media, and nascent web video had, at its intersection, going hard in the motherfucking paint, if you get my drift.

The late oughts were where SXSW got its reputation as an epic and riotous shitshow where long term memories went to die. Companies lived and died by the parties they threw way out in the wasteland that was “anywhere off of sixth street.” It set the scene for an arms race of irresponsibility that wouldn’t peter out until about 2012. And New York, being much larger than Austin and with a scrappy underdog of a tech industry, had a reputation to uphold.

So that’s how I find myself at my third after party, in a bar called (I think?) Ford’s, on the lower east side, surrounded by the technorati, glitterati, and all other manner of descriptive terms for young, pretty, newly and soon-to-be rich people, before we discovered that they were called “influencers.”

This bar is a proper dive. Not quite “you could destroy everything in here and you’d be out like fifteen bucks” but still well into “you’re gonna need more than a new paint job once the artisan cheese shops roll into this neighborhood.” Put in 2009 money, we were still getting five dollar beers in Manhattan, so do with that what you will.

Back to the story: right around 1:30AM, I’m thinking three things: 1) I would very much like to slam an inordinate amount of pizza into my mouth, 2) I probably need to use the restroom before I do so, and 3) The four or five people I’m with are probably feeling the same way. So I check in with my crew, tell them I’m gonna hit the head and then we’re gonna hit some pizza. First things first though: I gotta get some crucial info from the bartender.

I saunter up to the bar and ask where I can get a slice. The sole bartender, a man who is both younger and exponentially cooler than me, tells me “New York’s best pizza is two blocks up and one left.”

“New York’s best?” I clarify, because wouldn’t that be a coincidence?

“Yep, New York’s best pizza. Two blocks up, one left.”

Well, I know that everyone thinks they know the best pizza in town, but this dude looks like he’s a perpetual trend setter, so it feels like it has a higher-than-average likelihood of relative goodness. Besides, I’ve assaulted my sense well past the realm of good taste, so as long as it’s not cooked on a literal garbage can, it should serve it’s purpose. I pop the directions into the old memory banks, and wander off through the broken door that indicates relief (and, in retrospect, possibly tetanus.)

True to its dive bar requirements, this restroom is super classy you guys. Just above the pee trough (like an actual six foot long trough that horses would drink out of) (in other circumstances) there’s a mirror where someone has carved “Smoke Beer” - a particular exercise that I contemplate for far too long. Is this a flavor profile of some cheeky new porter? Are they suggesting you replace your bong water with Budweiser? Or is this an actual “get a beaker and some burners and let’s get high in the science lab” situation?

Regardless, my attention turns back to the core mission: Operation Pizza Face Hole Intersection. So I push away the culinary suggestion, zip up, and return to the main room to find…no one.

I don’t mean my friends were gone. I mean that when I left to pee, there was somewhere between 150 and 200 people in this bar, and now there were two. And I was one of them. The other one is a bartender, but very crucially, not the bartender I was just speaking to one or two or five hundred billion minutes ago. This is a new bartender. He’s older. And has a beard. This is very distinctly a different person, but I’m still hung up on the reality that there is no one else in this bar except for him and me.

I look at this new bartender. He looks at me. I look around to see if maybe my friends are hiding behind something, but this place doesn’t even have tables, let alone hiding spaces. I look back. He’s still looking at me. So I do the only logical thing to do in this scenario: I run away.

Outside, I pull out my blackberry (shut up) and call my friends. Voicemail. Every one. No one picks up. I text them “where the fuck are you assholes” but drunkenly, on a keyboard the size of a postage stamp, so they don’t write back, even to clarify whether I just had a stroke.

Something has definitely gone horribly wrong. I am very drunk in a strange part of a strange city. Everyone I know and several dozen complete strangers have been Thanos-snapped into the ether of the universe. I am alone and have no real understanding of how to get home from here. But, you know, I also still really want pizza. So I do the only thing that truly makes sense in this scenario: I start walking towards pizza.

One block up, things start getting weird(er). Now weird in nighttime Manhattan isn’t quite as weird as it used to be, and I’ve spent a fair amount of time in Venice Beach, so my weird meter is a little skewed compared to most people. But it’s as-near-as-matters-2am now and the streets of the lower east side are deserted, except for…

Look, there’s no way to say this without sounding like I’m writing a David Lynch spec, so I’m just gonna say it and you’re gonna have to trust me here.

Directly in front of me there is a group of a dozen or so seven to ten year old girls playing double dutch in the middle of the street. A totally normal sight at 2pm - less so at 2am. There are no adults here. Or anywhere. Except me. And right as I notice them, they notice me. They don’t stop their monotone chanting, they just continue to do so while swiveling their heads to follow me like a leopard follows a [whatever leopards eat - I’m not looking it up on Wikipedia right now.]

So once again: empty streets in the LES, except for me and a gaggle of girls wielding a pair of twin jump ropes. And chanting. I briefly wonder if they’re okay and why they’re out here all along performing what’s starting to sound more and more like some pagan ritual before I keep fucking walking because there’s no scenario in which any good comes from me stopping and hanging around. But I start thinking that I need a witness here.

The blessing of living in California and spending a lot of time in New York is actually time. More specifically, that you can call your girlfriend at what’s almost your 2AM and she’ll still be up and wondering what the absolute fuck you’re talking about when you open with “I hope I didn’t wake you but everyone disappeared and I’m kind of scared because there’s this creepy group of girls playing double dutch but I think it’s going to be alright because I’m walking to get pizza.”

We’d been together for a while at that point, so thankfully I’d build up a reservoir of good graces to pull from in moments like these.

Witness achieved, I told her precisely (ish) where I was, so the police could find my body, and continued my Epic Pizza Quest. Two blocks up, and one block left, where I found…

New York’s Best Pizza. That’s the goddamned name. Motherfucking hipster bartenders.

It’s open, for some reason, and empty for good reason, but after some back and forth that includes “well I don’t have any and I’d have to make a full pizza” and “I understand but I don’t want a full fucking pizza, I just want a slice” I get a couple slices and, for lack of anything better to do, decide to head back to Ford’s.

Now you might be asking yourself, dear reader, why I would march back through a fae revelry towards a crack in the universe, and that’s a very good question. The answer is that I was very drunk at the time.

So back I went.

The children were still there, still playing double dutch. (In my memory of this, they’re doing everything slowly and in a minor key, but it’s likely they were normal speed and tone, and I was just perceiving things slowly for chemical reasons.) My phone comes out again and I subtly (HA) narrate my way through this gauntlet to my girlfriend (and for the police report) and back towards the bar/Tardis.

Which brings us to our climax. See, there’s something even more disconcerting than leaving a restroom to find an erstwhile packed bar with naught but tumbleweeds, and that’s coming back to the deserted bar and finding it full again. Like packed full. Like normal full. Like Digital Media Event after party full. You know, like you remembered it pre-restroom (which is as weird a sentence to type as it is, I imagine, to read.)

I immediately run into my friends, who not only know nothing at all about the empty bar, but proclaim that they’ve been looking for me for “like an hour.” They’ve called and texted me, they say, which is ludicrous because I’ve been using my phone and I would have…

I looked at my phone. I had seven missed calls. A dozen texts. None of which were on my phone when I used it just moments ago, but all of which were timestamped over the past hour-ish.

I call my girlfriend again. Please pick up.

“Did you just talk to me and did I just tell you about everyone disappearing and the bar being totally empty and the weird creepy double dutch girls and getting into an argument with the pizza guy at New York’s Best Pizza?” I shouted into the phone, to the absolute horror of my friends (who were probably wondering what legal obligations they had to return me to my hotel and/or the insane asylum before I hurt myself.)

“Yes…” she responded, probably wondering what obligations she had to guide me to my hotel and/or the insane asylum before I hurt myself.

“Good!” I shouted, and promptly hung up, having proven my sanity, but really testing the depths of that aforementioned reservoir of goodwill. She would later tell me that somehow the second phone call was weirder than the first.

Moving past my friends, I stormed back into the bar. The bartender (the first one, the hipster one, the human one) clocked me coming in, but before he could open his mouth to ask what was probably going to be a very friendly question about whether I found the pizza place, or did I want to close out the tab I’d left open, instead got to be on the receiving end of me shouting “You sent me to a really fucking weird pizza place!” before marching out the door; thus cementing my reputation as a gifter of bizarre and inexplicable social interactions, and the probable punchline to someone else’s very different story.

For the rest of the week, my friends would swear up, down, sideways, sober, and drunk that no, the bar did not empty out; no, this was not a prank; no, they didn’t see me leave; and yes, they were in the very full and active bar the entire time I was gone.

It’s ten years later, and I don’t have an explanation for this event. I wouldn’t say it haunts me, but it’s definitely one of the weirder things that’s ever happened to me. And weirder still, in writing down this modern pizza-driven Brigadoon, I looked up Ford’s and New York’s Best Pizza just to see if I remembered their names right - and I can’t find any trace of either of them.

I’m still with the same girlfriend, and she still remembers the phone calls (vividly), but no one else was actually there, so no one else can verify the very weird set of events and circumstances that happened late that night, and into the early morning, across a series of overlapping universes.

Somewhere, out there in the ether of the multiverse, I imagine one version of me is still wondering where everyone went and yearning for a slice of New York’s Best Pizza.