Regular Show One Pull Up Novels & Stories

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POV X I’m on my tenth set of pull-ups, sweat glistening my entire body. My hair is drenched and pissing me off as it falls to my eyebrows, constantly needing to be pushed back. I’m trying to channel my rage without alcohol and working out is the only way I know how.

Fuck It The guys were watching Romeo and Juliet say their famous lines. I noticed they seemed to be really into the show, which was great. I can catch them off guard. I reached over to their laps and unbuckled their pants using both hands. They were both incredibly still as their eyes looked down, following my movements. They both looked at me and I smirked. I said nothing as I rubbed my palms against them. They were hard immediately in my hands, and I loved them. " Pull them out" I whispered. It didn't take them long to oblige.

Our sweet adorable little angel would probably kill her cousin given less than half a chance. – Sinner Priscilla tapped her phone screen and then the fight appeared on the oversized screen on the wall. “This is from last October. It was a charity fight, but see how she hits and then she spins around her opponent, quick kidney punch and then she’s back where she was and boom, boom, upper cut and leg sweep.” Priscilla walked them through several more clips, giving play by play commentary on them.

I push the door wider and walk in. My mouth hangs open in shock, eyes almost bulging out of their sockets at the sight of Lou pulling himself up and down the pull-up bar. Damnn, how is it possible for a man to look so hot? My grip subconsciously tightens around the bottle of water I grabbed from the kitchen earlier as I take him in. I didn't think it was possible for my eyes to grow any wider but it did when he suddenly yanks off his shirt in a swift motion using it to fan his sweaty body. I can't help the gasp that tore out of my mouth when he suddenly turns around thereby catching me ogling.

With effortless ease she leapt upward, grasped the horizontal pull-up bar, and began her demonstration. “One… two… three…” The crowd immediately began counting. Several members pulled out their phones, eagerly recording the scene. Pull-ups demanded tremendous upper-body strength—something most women struggled with. Poppy had chosen the exercise deliberately, intending to crush Ava’s confidence from the very beginning. “Eighteen… nineteen…” The atmosphere grew increasingly excited. By the time she reached twenty-four, Poppy’s movements had begun to strain. Sweat glistened across her back, her breathing noticeably heavier. It was clearly her limit.

Standing on one leg and holding the pole with one hand, I grabbed my other leg and slowly pulled it into a stretch far behind my ear, showing off miraculous flexibility. "Bitch!" the brunette growled, jumping off the couch. His “admiration” of the show was immediately obvious, giving me mocking satisfaction. You haven’t seen anything yet, Shade. Should’ve let me go.

He said with a smile spreading on his face. “Why don’t you just focus on yourself?” I hissed and got on Alex. Both of my legs crossed on his back like one would sit on the ground. And my hands held onto his shoulders to brace myself. Unlike how the blue head sprawled on Carmelo’s back, with arms wrapped around his torso. “Ten push-ups, gents, here we go. One! Two! Three! Four!” With every number he mentioned, the so-called gents went up and down. Some trembled because there was no rest, and some fell and were disqualified midway. And others did it with ease.

The pace is faster than usual. I get up, the stone cold under my bare feet—doesn’t matter. I walk over. The nurse sits on a chair, reading, looks up, nods. Selin stands at the crib rail, gripping the wooden bar with both hands, and pulls herself up to elbow height. She’s not “holding on.” She’s doing a pull-up. The muscles on her back define—not grotesquely, but clearly. A six-month-old doesn’t do this. Kael attempts the same at the other end of the bar. Pulls himself up, holds for two beats, lets go.

But the moment my eyes landed on Alexander, the breath was completely sucked straight out of my lungs. The gym was a massive, state-of-the-art sanctuary of matte-black equipment and mirrors, but my gaze was utterly locked onto the man in the center of the room. Alex was doing heavy pull-ups, his massive, broad back completely exposed to the room. He was wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung, dark gray sweatpants that clung precariously to his hips.