#advanced leg workout

[sevikaswifegurl]

RED FLAG!

Synopsis: What happens when he says that one of his habits is a red flag?

Word count: 2.389

Characters: Carlos Sainz, Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris, Kimi Antonelli and Lance Strol.

Note: English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance if there are any errors and promise that I will improve the templates

Inspiration: @tsunodaradio please don't curse at me, I swear I looked at your post and thought: "I have to do one like this, I need to" and I love your account, so I was inspired by it, I'm sorry if you feel "invaded" or something like that, if you feel that way let me know and I'll delete the post!

CARLOS S. (CS55)🚩 ⸻ INSTANT TEXT REPLIES

Carlos realizes something's changed when you stop replying so quickly. It’s not a huge absence — not hours, not days. Just long enough for him to notice that now, your messages sit there. Waiting.

Before, it was automatic. He’d barely hit “send” and your reply was already coming in. Sometimes you both typed at the same time, your messages overlapping. It was lighthearted, fun. He laughed, and you used to say you just wanted to make sure he never felt alone.

But after that stupid conversation — just a random night, when he made a thoughtless joke about replying too fast being a red flag — it all stopped. You smiled, but it wasn’t the same. The next morning, you took over twenty minutes to reply to a “good morning.” That had never happened before.

By the third time he notices it, he can’t pretend anymore.

You’re sitting on his bed, rubbing lotion into your hands, lost in your own routine. Carlos is leaning against the doorframe, watching you. And he says it — no warning:

“You stopped replying fast because of me, didn’t you?”

You glance over your shoulder at him, not quite following.

“You said it was a red flag.”

“I was joking.” He folds his arms, stepping closer. “But I think I hurt you.”

You take a deep breath and lower your gaze.

“You laughed at one of the only things I did without thinking. Replying to you quickly… it was never about anxiety. I just liked talking to you.”

Carlos sits beside you. Your shoulders brush.

“I didn’t want you to change that because of me.”

“I know.” You smile, just a little.

“But I thought maybe you didn’t like it as much as I thought you did.”

He takes your hand. Squeezes it gently.

“I loved it. Still do. I stare at my phone like an idiot, waiting for that ‘hey’ two seconds after mine.”

You laugh under your breath. Rest your head on his shoulder.

“Then don’t complain when I go back to being way too fast.”

“I won’t. Promise.”

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand. You reach for it, type a reply without even looking. Carlos smiles.

You’re back.

OSCAR P. (OP81)🚩 ⸻ TAKING A GYM MIRROR SELFIE

Oscar never thought something as simple as a gym mirror selfie could mean so much. It was more than just a photo — it was a fragment of your day, a stolen moment between sweat and effort that he could keep and revisit whenever the distance started to weigh heavy.

He loved those pictures. Your hair tied up in any way, sometimes damp, sometimes stuck to your forehead with sweat. The soft gym lighting glowing against the foggy mirror. That crooked little smile you’d give the camera, like you were saying, “I’m here, I’m still going.”

Every photo you sent was like a secret note, a quiet reminder that even far apart, you were connected. He’d check his phone with this ridiculous anticipation, waiting for that one notification that could brighten up the middle of a long day.

Sometimes it was a classic selfie — sports bra on, elbow on your waist. Other times, a short clip of your workout, muffled music in the background, your focused eyes as you pushed through the final rep. The caption could be anything — “almost died,” “PR on leg press,” “barely surviving” — but to him, every word was a precious detail of your routine, your effort, your strength.

And then, one day, the photos just... stopped.

At first, he thought it was just a break. Maybe you were tired, or too focused on training to think about documenting every moment. But what started as a pause turned into silence. The silence became longing, and longing turned into this quiet, aching emptiness he didn’t quite know how to fix.

He missed those images the way he missed your scent when you were apart too long, the way he missed your touch after a bad day. He missed opening his phone and seeing your flushed face, that tired but proud look in your eyes, that visual proof that you were out there, pushing through, winning.

One night, after another full day, he gave in. Picked up his phone, hesitated just for a second, and typed:

“I miss your gym selfies.”

On the other end, you laughed — light, surprised.

“Really? I thought you said that was a red flag.”

He shook his head, even though you couldn’t see him.

“Red flag? Never. I love them. They're my favorite part of the day.”

You went quiet for a second, then your voice came through soft and careful:

“Then why did you say it was?”

Oscar sighed, a little embarrassed.

“I didn’t want to sound weird. I thought it might annoy you.”

“You don’t annoy me” you said, and he could practically hear the smile on your lips.

“Alright. I’ll send you a bunch of selfies. Every time.”

The phone buzzed a minute later.

There you were — hair stuck to your forehead with sweat, cheeks flushed, the gym mirror foggy behind you, a tired but genuine smile lighting up the frame.

Oscar smiled to himself on the couch, holding his phone like it was the most valuable thing in the world.

“Best thing that ever happened to my timeline” he replied, already counting down the minutes until the next one.

From that day on, the gym mirror selfies became a ritual. More than just photos, they were pieces of both your days — invisible threads that held you close through distance and time. Every picture a silent promise: that no matter where you were, you’d find each other — even if just through a screen and a slightly blurry selfie.

And deep down, Oscar knew those photos — so simple, so you — were more than just images. They were the way you stayed close, remembered, loved.

LANDO N. (LN4)🚩 ⸻ LIKING EVERY PHOTO ON HIS SOCIAL MEDIA FEED

You never really thought about it. Liking Lando’s posts was one of those small, automatic things — a reflex. He posted a gym mirror selfie, you liked it. A random selfie in his stories with a ridiculous filter, you liked it. A photo of the car, the track, a random sunset: like. Always.

It wasn’t flattery. It was just... you being there. Present. Saying everything without saying anything.

At first, he thought it was funny. He used to send you screenshots of the notifications, saying “First like as always,” or “Can’t get a second of peace with you online.” It was a joke. Affection disguised as teasing.

Until the video.

You were lying in bed, scrolling aimlessly through your feed, when you saw the title: “F1 Drivers Decide Their Personality Red Flags!” You clicked for entertainment, nothing more — until Lando showed up on screen, cap on, with that look like he was always on the edge of laughing.

“Red flag?” he repeated, thinking. “If you like every photo on my feed… I’ll block you.”

Your stomach twisted. Sure, he laughed after the line. But it was that weird kind of laugh — the one that comes a little late, with a half-look. And it stuck in your mind.

The next post, you hesitated. Scrolled past without hitting the heart. And then you kept doing it. One, two, five posts — no likes from you. Nothing on his stories either. No comments.

Two days later, you were both on the couch, sharing a pizza and watching some random movie neither of you were really paying attention to. He was scrolling through his phone while you queued up the next episode.

“You stopped,” he said, out of nowhere.

You looked over. “What?”

“Liking my photos.” His eyes stayed on the screen, but his voice was more serious than usual.

“You said you’d block me,” you shrugged.

He finally turned his head, raising an eyebrow. “You thought I meant that?”

“It sounded like you did.”

Lando sighed and leaned back against the couch, dropping the phone onto his lap. “It was a joke. I said it smiling.”

“You smiled two seconds after saying it. That’s not the same thing.”

He was quiet for a moment, just looking at you, like he was deciding whether the argument was worth it. Then, softer:

“I liked it. Seeing you there. Liking everything. It made me feel like you were... with me. Even when you weren’t.”

Your chest tightened. You dropped your gaze for a second, until he reached over and laced his fingers with yours.

“If you want to like everything, go ahead,” he said, with a half-smile now. “Just don’t like stuff that’s too old or I’ll know you’re stalking me.”

You laughed, nudging his shoulder. “As if you don’t do worse.”

“I’m discreet.”

“You liked a 2016 photo of mine at three in the morning.”

“I was conducting historical research.”

You rolled your eyes and pulled out your phone. And there, curled up next to him on the couch while he laughed beside you, you opened his profile and liked everything again. One by one.

Even the dumb ones.

Especially the dumb ones.

KIMI A. (KA12) 🚩 ⸻ NOT BEING TAGGED IN A GROUP PHOTO

The photo was taken right after the movies, after a whole Saturday wandering around the mall with the group. You hadn’t thought much about it: just lifted your phone, squeezed everyone into a tight frame, and hit the button before anyone blinked.

The result? Three spontaneous smiles, Giulie’s funny pout, and Kimi in the background, half-hidden behind you, with an expression too neutral for someone who had laughed so much half an hour before.

You posted it as soon as you got home. A simple caption, basic emojis. Tagged those who had replied to your stories on the way back. And went to sleep.

The next day, his notification wakes you up.

Kimi Antonelli commented on your post: “Nice photo. Too bad not everyone was there, huh?”

You don’t get it at first. Only later, reviewing the post, you notice the absence.

You didn’t tag him.

You open the chat without thinking twice.

“It was unintentional.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Kimi, I swear.”

“You even tagged Alessandro, who barely appears.”

You laugh despite the mini panic. Because yes, Alessandro only shows a shoulder and an eyebrow — and yet he got tagged. Kimi, fully there in the background, didn’t.

“Want me to fix it?”

It takes a while. Like three minutes.

“Too late now. Delete it. It looks ugly.”

You drop your phone on the bed. He never says things directly. But you know this tone. Kimi can drive a kart at two hundred an hour, but he feels invisible in a group photo.

In the afternoon, he shows up in front of your house like nothing happened. Old sweatshirt, messy hair, phone in his pocket. But when you open the gate, he just says:

“You forgot me.”

You cross your arms. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.” He puts his hands in his pockets. “But still.”

You stare at each other for a long second.

Then you pull out your phone. “Smile.”

“For what?”

“For a new photo.”

“Just me?”

“No,” you answer, walking over and tugging his sleeve. “Ours.”

He hesitates but smiles — that quiet kind you’re the only one who recognizes. You take the selfie, the two of you in front of your house, with no one else left to forget to tag.

You post it right after, no filter, no caption.

And tag only him.

LANCE S. (LS18) 🚩 ⸻ TAKING A PICTURE OF THE MEAL BEFORE LETTING PEOPLE EAT

Lance realizes it the worst way possible: when it’s already gone.

You’re at a restaurant in Barcelona, and the dish that arrives is too beautiful to just let pass — one of those you’d normally turn to the side, adjust the napkin, and murmur “just a second” while looking for the best angle.

But this time, you just... eat. As if you couldn’t let it go by.

He watches for a moment longer than he should, his own cutlery still resting at the edge of the plate.

“Aren’t you going to take a picture?” he asks, trying to sound casual.

You chew slowly. Give a small, almost shy smile. “You said it was a red flag.”

His fork slips slightly from his hand. “That was a joke.”

“I know.” You shrug. “But you were serious. At least at the time.”

He doesn’t answer. Just pretends the food is still too hot.

Later, with you asleep on his chest, Lance scrolls through the camera roll on your phone. Pictures of everything: your sneakers pressed against the subway, a crooked plant in Vienna, the reflection of you both in some shop window in Milan. But food... no. The last one is weeks ago — pasta with pesto and a glass of white wine. His hand appears in the corner, holding the plate for you.

He feels a silly tightness in his chest. It was just a photo, he thinks. But it was also your way of caring for things. Your way of marking what was beautiful. Of not letting it go unnoticed.

The next morning, you make pancakes. Serve two plates with cut fruit and a drizzle of honey, all simple, all beautiful your way. When you turn your back, he grabs the phone almost without thinking.

“Hey,” he says. “Hold the plate a little more to the left.”

You freeze. Turn slowly, looking at him.

“You want to take a picture?” you ask, voice low, suspicious.

Lance gives a half smile. “I want to see you do it again.”

You hesitate for a second. Then adjust the plate.

“Like this?” you ask.

“Perfect.”

[itoshiierae]

HELLOO !!! Soo umm I would like to request for what drives them insanely horny + their dirtiest fantasy with Aiku , Sae , Nagi and Kaiser !!! Thank youu in advance if you do decide to do this req :)))

──★ ˙�� ̟ !!

ᡣ𐭩 ft: oliver aiku, sae itoshi, nagi seishiro & michael kaiser (x f!reader)

ᡣ𐭩 cw: 18+ minors dni, all characters are aged up, nsfw, possessive behavior, breeding kink, cursing, overstimulation, emotional manipulation, degradation + praise kink (not proofread!)

OLIVER AIKU ᯓᡣ𐭩

✶ what drives him insanely horny:

you in your workout gear, especiallyyy in tight shorts or leggings. you walk past him, towel slung over your neck, with your skin still warm from exertion— and that’s it. now he’s unable to focus. at this point he’s gripping his phone, but he’s not actually reading anything. his jaw clenches and his breath stutters seeing your ass bounces just a little too much with every step. and the way your sports bra rides up makes him groan under his breath like it physically hurts to hold back.

“…fuck. baby, c’mere for a sec.”

he’ll pull you onto his lap without asking. his palm presses firm against your lower belly, holding you still while his lips graze your ear: “you trying to get me hard in public or should i bend you over the treadmill next time??”

✶ his dirtiest fantasy:

filming you while he fucks you. this man literally wants a whole collection of private tapes; you on your knees with your face all ruined and pleading with his cum still dripping out of you.

bonus: he watches them when you’re away, hand wrapped around his cock, “shitttt you’re mine, baby... always.”

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

SAE ITOSHI ᯓᡣ𐭩

✶ what drives him insanely horny:

one word, attitude.

“you’re not the boss of me, sae.” he barely reacts, just drags his eyes down your body like he’s bored: “… oh i’m not??? then why do your legs spread the second i touch you?” he sits back in his chair like he owns the air you breathe. eyes dragging over you lazily, like he’s already deciding in his head which position will make you beg or will make you cry first.

✶ his dirtiest fantasy:

he wants to fuck you while you’re on the phone with someone who has no idea what’s happening. maybe it’s your friend, or even a colleague??? and then he’ll slide in from behind, with his hand around your throat, whispering things like:

“talk normally… unless you want them to hear how wet you are.”

as he buries himself to the hilt again and again. each thrust deeper than the last, forcing your body to tremble around him while you struggle to keep your voice steady on the phone. “that’s it… bite your tongue, baby. just pretend everything’s fine.”

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

NAGI SEISHIRO ᯓᡣ𐭩

✶ what drives him insanely horny:

you wearing his clothes. especially his jersey with no bra on, while walking around the apartment like you don’t know he’s watching. he’ll act sleepy, but the second you sit on his lap??? you’ll feel it. his cock already half-hard through his grey sweats.

“you smell like me… wanna stay like this…”

he hooks your underwear to the side, slides in, and holds himself there; just grinding with that lazy hunger in his eyes almost as if the only thing keeping him sane right now is the way your walls flutter around him.

✶ his dirtiest fantasy:

breeding. there’s just something about the thought of you round and swollen with his child that drives him insane. he wants to fall asleep with his cock still inside you & the warmth of your body wrapped around him and he’ll mumble:

“keep me in… ‘s where i belong.”

“wanna see you round and soft… full of me.”

and if you try to pull away??? he just holds you tighter. “no… not done yet.” as he hums against your shoulder, like this is just another nap he’s easing into.

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

MICHAEL KAISER ᯓᡣ𐭩

✶ what drives him insanely horny:

your jealousy!!! you getting pouty when someone else flirts with him, crossing your arms and then going quiet. ohhhh he lives for that. he’ll pull you aside, presses you against a wall with his breath hot against your neck:

“damn baby…. now that look on your face??”

“fuck…. it makes me wanna mark you all over.”

he’ll leave hickeys where everyone else can see. and in a way, that’s his way of saying you’ll never once have to doubt his loyalty.

✶ his dirtiest fantasy:

he wants you plugged up and ruined but in public. maybe a remote-controlled vibrator or maybe a plug with his initials. either way, no one else knows but he does. and the whole time, he’s whispering filth against your ear:

“dripping already?? good girl. don’t you dare cum until i say so.”

and when you finally get home???? he makes you beg to take it off. “on your knees. now beg like the desperate little slut you were all day.”

© itoshiierae 2025 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ please do not modify or repost my content onto any other platforms.

[narcissistshandler]

hello! this is my first time to request something, can you write overstimulation for sae or rin? (or other bllk characters if you want). like make them get soo ruined, leg shaking, crying, and begging something like those :) thank u in advanced !

　⸸ .ᐟ S ' G O O D FOR Y O U

「 pairing 」 male reader x itoshi rin / itoshi sae [separately] 「 content 」 overstimulating the Itoshi brothers 「 tags 」 amab!reader, top!reader, sex toys, anal sex, overstimulation (obviously), use of "daddy" (to refer to the reader) on Rin's part

a/n I love the Itoshi brothers, unfortunately Sae's part is more of a bonus and the focus here is more on Rin, but hope you like it! [unedited]

RIN always wants your touch, your complete attention and love so much that it feels like an empty hole unable to be filled. Like a cat, he slides into bed as soon as you push him, no questions asked. So complacent to you. And damn flexible. You can push his legs up to his ears after he can't keep them open any longer, spread wide above his head. Hold them there with one or two hands, the position giving you better access to his hole, and allowing you to see the bulge in his stomach whenever your hips move forward ── your dick rearranging his insides. He's fully exposed like this.

God, yoga really did wonders for your relationship.

Unlike his workouts or stretching, at this moment Rin gasps, seeming to struggle with each breath. "You’re making such a mess. Do you even remember how many times it’s been?" you say. But Rin's tear-filled eyes have already lost focus, his bad habit that you thought was adorable taking over too: his tongue lolling out of his mouth, drooling over himself. He was too far away to hear you.

Rin isn't the type to beg because he simply loses himself in the pleasure. You fucked him for hours on end, cum accompanying each thrust, dripping from his full insides. He can only mumble nonsensically, a complete mess, shaking all over when the heat is suddenly there again, in the pit of his stomach, ready to explode. And he doesn't want to cum again, even though his body throbs and yearns. He doesn't want to, no—

His cock jumps into his stomach, the head an angry red where blood pools. There's a growing pool of fluids collecting there; the last two orgasms haven't gotten anything out of him but a few splashes, his balls too tight to give you something—anything. But he couldn't anymore. He was so sensitive. He was always too sensitive to bear the provocation.

But you push him anyway, feeling his entire body tense, the already relaxed hole around you barely squeezing. "I-I'm gonna—" Rin whimpers, tries, the words barely pronounced. "[n-n-name]... I-I can't— I can't— ahhh..."

"Just one more? Just one more, come on, for me. Come for me again, bunny." You, cruel as you are, smile at him, gyrating your hips in a way that makes you perfectly hit that sweet spot inside him. The stimulation is so much it hurts, so good it hurts his stomach, where your cock seems to reach. Pushing inside him, forcing his insides, over and over and over.

"It’s too much, it’s too much, I— I’m gonna—" he's babbling, toes twitching, shaking his head as if in denial. But his body is obedient and responsive to you.

"What was that? 'Too much?' Come on Rin-chan, you want to be good, don't you? Yes, you do, sweetness," you smile as Rin nods, sweat running down his chest. "You can take it. Just. One. Ngh. More." You keep your grip on his heels, keeping him open as you pound into him, mercilessly, grunting at the delicious heat and the fluttering of the walls as he comes again.

Rin is now crying for real, lips trembling, a drool laced mess. His poor penis twitches and throbs and tenses, but nothing comes out of it. It starts to go limp, having nothing left to give. It looks painful. Rin reaches between you to hold him, his hands shaking like the rest of his body.

You think he'll try to ease the tension, maybe rub the burning away from his sensitive urethra, but he doesn't. Your obedient bunny is masturbating for you. Gritting his teeth, grunting and whimpering, something between a wild animal and sweet prey as he obeys and tries to make himself come again for you, trying to keep his cock hard and ready for your demands.

His green eyes roll back in his skull, his muscular legs bounce and spasm, but you hold them in place, abusing his prostate as Rin pulls himself through the pleasure and pain. For you. Wetting his entire chest and chin, squirting for what feels like an eternity as his entire body struggles to escape his control. Too much. Too much.

Rin gasps, seems to be relearning how to breathe, so out of breath that you fear he's going to pass out, "No more, I c-can’t feel my legs..."

"Every time you whimper it makes me want to keep going just to see how much longer until you break. Although, from the way your lovely cock is dripping, your hole all stretched and smooth, I might already have."

"Plewse—"

His hips buck and he swallows the rest of the word. Oh, he's going to pass out──

"Just a little more, bunny, daddy's so close to cumming, you're not going to let me down, are you? It's okay to cry, baby, you can let your dick go. Obedient thing. Just a little more and I'll let you rest."

Even if in the end Rin was completely in pain and unable to feel his own body, the ultra-sensitive hole and his cock dripping with no sign of pause, he would never stop you from taking your pleasure from him.

He was so good to you.

Tears, begging, obedience and everything.

+   B O N U S: SAE ITOSHI

It's been hours since you started playing with his body, as you lewdly called it. Destroying him, was how Sae preferred to put it. Some people often claimed to enter some sort of subspace when under continuous stimulation, but Sae was hyperaware the entire time. Unable to escape from your hands.

He lost count of how many there were. The toys pushed through the smooth ring of muscles, some so small they barely gave satisfaction, some long ones, which reached so deep that they took his breath away. One was as thick as your fist and Sae might have torn the sheets as he writhed from the overwhelming stretching sensation.

He's already forgotten how to breathe when you pull the powerful little vibrator out of him. It feels like his hole continues to vibrate even now that it's empty, the sensation doesn't go away. The tight ring at the base of his cock didn't help, only making it more cruel. Sae was at your mercy, taking an indecent variety of toys inside him, balls tight with release denied.

"[name]." His voice was low, rouca, the warning clear as day, but the effect was somewhat ruined by the way his hole fluttered weakly against a cabeça de seu pau. "You promised." Sae was shaking like a leaf. You tried to pull him to his knees, but he couldn't stay in position, having slipped down onto the dirty, sticky sheets.

He no longer remembered the promise very well, but it probably had to do with letting him cum after he took the monstrous dildo inside him. And nothing about you pushing your cock against his swollen, sensitive hole.

"Just a little more, I promise. I'll let you cum as soon as I have my cock buried deep inside you."

"[name]," He gasps, not believing you. You would finish off what was left of him.

"Yes?"

Sae's hole throbbed, his cock felt like it was about to explode beneath his body, and everything about him was sweaty and hot. The denial, the stimulation, hurt. But he still wanted your cock so badly──

"Yes... Please."

[dannyriccsystem]

Omg you know what would be so funny, the 2025 rookies or current grid doing the tell on me TikTok trend with reader! I know the trend passed, but I still occasionally get those videos.Maybe some of them stand on readers feet bc their reactions would be funny!

If you don’t feel comfortable with this I 100% understand, but thank you in advance regardless💜

IS YOU GON’ TELL ON ME?

FORMULA ONE DRIVERS X READER

Summary: “Tell On Me” trend with the 2025 rookies + the papaya boys because I love them!

Warnings: Y/N usage, suggestive lyrics and jokes, one of them accidentally gets hit in the nuts 😕, not proofread

Featuring: LN4, IH6, JD7, KA12, LL30, OP81, OB87,

Sorry this one took forever! I’m finally getting to actually finish my requests, which ARE open! Check here for more!

Jack Doohan is such a cutie but I miss his hair so I wrote him pre-buzz!!

LANDO NORRIS - LN4

“I’m liking this angle.” Y/N immediately rolled her eyes at her boyfriend’s suggestive comment. If she was on the same level as him, she might smack his chest and tell him to knock it off. However, right now that was rather difficult.

Only hours ago Y/N had been begging Lando to participate in a trend with her. He refused, insisting there were much more fun trends to do, but finally gave in when he saw how excited she was. One person was meant to stop on the other’s legs, propped against a wall, while recording them from above. Then, they’d drop the phone and the person on the bottom would record the one on top. All while lip syncing some ridiculous audio.

“Quit moving your legs so much, I’m gonna fall!” She criticized him in a joking manner, a soft giggle leaving her lips as she reached into her pocket for her phone. She did a quick search of the audio, selected it, and then hit record. The room was dark, allowing her to use her flash to illuminate his handsome face.

He lipsynced the words, “If I beat that pussy up is you gon’ tell on me?” Just as the song said. Right then she was supposed to drop him the phone so he could capture her. That’s what was supposed to happen, but instead it landed flat on his nose. He jolted from the impact, causing Y/N to topple over and land on top of him.

“I told you not to move!” She laughed.

“You dropped it on my face!”

ISACK HADJAR - IH6

Everyone knows about Isack’s obsession with TikTok lip sync videos. He posted at least one a day, his specialty being Kardashian videos. And mind you, those were just the videos he posted. Y/N was sure that the amount of drafts he had harbored away was probably insane.

But, this idea? This was hers. He just happened to be the right person to ask, because of course he wouldn’t say no to such a proposal. Make a lip-syncing video with his girlfriend? Abso-fucking-lutely. Name a time and place, he’d be there. He sat in the corner of their kitchen on his back, his muscular legs in the air and propped against the wall. With very wobbly balance, Y/N stood on top of his feet.

“Okay, hand me the phone,” She laughed, barely able to stand still. Isack laughed along with her, until he realized he had to reach up and hand her something. With a focused expression, he tried to keep his legs still whilst simultaneously reaching up to hand her the phone. Sucess! Y/N’s hands gripped the phone, and Isack could relax against the floor.

“This is a long walk for a short drink of water,” He pointed out. Y/N just shrugged, and proceeded to hit record.

JACK DOOHAN - JD7

“I don’t know if my PR team will approve of this.” Jack chuckled, trying to keep his legs completely still while Y/N stepped atop of them. It took her a few tries, but eventually she managed to balance herself on his feet. She giggled softly, both of her hands on the wall to ensure her own safety.

“Well, this can just be for me then! Nobody else has to see.” She was grateful her boyfriend was an athlete, otherwise they’d be on a time crunch. Hey, maybe this could be a future leg workout for him. Who’s to say? “I’m already up here, pleaaase?”

“Hey, I never said no.” He laughed, running a hand through his hair to perfect his own style. After prepping himself, he nodded. “Okay, I’m ready. You can hit record whenever.” Y/N opened the app and found the audio saved to her favorites. She clicked record, and point the camera at him.

He lip synced with a big grin, and when it was time to swap, she dropped the phone, and started to mouth the words herself. After reviewing the footage, they both decided to keep it buried in Y/N’s drafts. The lyrics were too much, and the angles were a lot.

KIMI ANTONELLI - KA12

“DON’T DROP ME,” Kimi squeaked in his heavy accent, his voice rising an octave as he shouted with fear. His hands were clawing at the walls, looking for any sort of stability to keep himself balanced there. Y/N only laughed, causing her legs to shake more.

They probably should have swapped positions, but there was something humorous about him standing atop her feet. He swayed, arms out to keep himself steady. They were both against a wall with Y/N on her back, legs in the air. Kimi stood atop her feet.

“I’m not gonna drop you! Just hit record!” She muttered through fits of laughter, breathing in heavily to try and keep her composure. Only Kimi could make her laugh so hard. He pulled the phone out, and nearly fell just doing that. Without even thinking about it, she shifted.

Suddenly, he was on top of her. It happened so quickly— One twitch of the leg and he toppled over with ease. They both laughed as Kimi rolled off of her and onto his back, both of them lying there in their harmonious laughter.

LIAM LAWSON - LL30

“How do I even get into this position?” Y/N questions as she reviews the video once more. It was her idea to participate in the stupid trend, but now she was beginning to regret it. The two seemed to simultaneously agree that Liam would be the one on the bottom, since his leg strength was a lot better than hers.

“Okay, here.” He extended both of his arms and brought his knees to his chest. “Step on my feet, hold my hands, and I’ll slowly lift you.” She couldn’t help but laugh at his current predicament, but followed his instructions. Y/N carefully stepped up onto his feet and held his hands, barely able to balance as is.

Slowly, he extended his legs and she held on to the wall. A silent cheer passed over them as they reached the peak, both of their legs fully extended. It was… Awkward, to say the least. “Okay, now-” Before he could finish, Y/N let out a yelp as she came toppling forward.

Unfortunately for Liam, her knee landed right between his legs. He shouted with pain, rolling over onto her side. Half-laughing, half-groaning. “Babe- Ow?!”

She knelt beside him, laughing her ass off. “OH MY GOD- I’m so sorry!”

OSCAR PIASTRI - OP81

If anyone ever doubted that Oscar Piastri loved his girlfriend, he’d show them this video they’re making right now. Tell me, does a man who hates his girlfriend agree to film some stupid trend with her, just because her eyes sparkled with excitement at the idea. No, certainly not. How about a man who is currently lying on his back, supporting said girl on his feet as she explains the whole concept to him? Does he hate his girlfriend?

I think not.

“Okay, so… I’m gonna point the camera at you, and you’re gonna mouth the words,” She explained as if it was obvious. “And then-”

“Wait, what words? You didn’t tell me the lyrics,” he reminded gently, staring at her with that signature ‘you’re so stupid but I love you’ expression.

“Oh!” She grinned. Together, they seemed to have perfect balance. Even an awkward position like this felt natural. “If I beat that pussy up is you gon’ tell on me,” She sang very poorly. Oscar tilted his head, one brow raised.

“Really? That’s the lyric? I might get fined for this.”

“It’s for a good cause. Anyway! Afterwards, I’m gonna drop the phone and you have to catch it, turn it around, and then record me singing my part.”

So, in summary. If anyone tells you Oscar Piastri doesn’t love his girlfriend, you can confidently tell them that’s not true. He’s willing to walk the earth’s surface again and again for her.

OLIVER BEARMAN - OB87

“OW-” Y/N cried out sharply, followed by a giggle at the foolish mistake. Yeah, pro tip. If your boyfriend has long legs, don’t have him full send this trend. Y/N confidently stood atop his feet, using the wall for support. She balanced quite well, but the issue had yet to come.

With her okay, she allowed him to push his legs up. Issue? Her head hit the ceiling. With worry, her carefully lowered her, helping her get down. “Y/N, ohmygodI’msosorry, are you okay?!” She laughed as she nodded, her hands cradling the spot she hit.

“Yes, oh my God— Yes, it didn’t actually hurt that bad it just shocked me.” After getting confirmation she was okay, Ollie laughed with her, resting his forehead against her shoulder in an exasperated manner.

“I thought you were seriously hurt for a second!”

“Well for all you know I could have been.”

Yeah. Video was never posted. Was never even made.

[ros3ybabes]

🎀 Workout Youtubers

I currently do exclusively pilates and yoga workouts from youtube. However, I've done other body weight workouts with various youtube videos and seen results in the past. Here is my list of workout youtubers that you could check out! I will put a * next to my personal favorites! I will include a short list of my current at home workout equipment at the end as well as some items I plan on buying soon!

With any workout program or routine, always be safe, check with your doctor if necessary, and if something doesn't feel good or right, don't do it! No matter what your goals are, it's always important to be safe and stay healthy. Please always take care of yourselves and know how beautiful, worthy and valuable you are no matter what! I love you all <333

🩷 Pilates

Move with Nicole * (also posts occasionally barre and yoga videos as well! I love her videos so so much)

Madeleine Abeid

IsaWelly

Pilatesbodyraven

Lidia Mera

Lottie Murphy

Amanda Blauer

Margaret Elizabeth

Jessica Valant Pilates

Bailey Brown

Dansique Fitness

Flow with Mira

Sivi (she's began posting some pilates inspired workouts and to my knowledge is currently getting certified as an instructor)

🩷 Yoga

Yoga with Adriene *

Yoga with Bird

Boho Beuatiful Yoga

🩷 Bodyweight Fitness/Strength/HIIT

Chloe Ting * (I don't like the click bait, but I like the workouts)

Blogilates

Pamela Reif *

Madfit *

Lilly Sabri * (Some of her videos are titled with pilates, but the older ones I used to do were not pilates, so I categorized her here)

Emi Wong

Shirlyn Kim

Vivian Yuan

April Han

growingannanas

growwithjo * (I love her walking workouts)

Hinafit

Mish Choi

Sami Clarke

Elenifit

Coach Kel (she posts what looks like more barre, ballet, pilates inspored/fusion workouts it seems)

Caroline Girvan

TRAIN WITH GAINSBYBRAINS

Daisy Keech

🎀 Current At Home Workout Equipment I Own

Thick Yoga Mat - since I do mainly yoga and pilates my thick yoga may (amazon brand) has served me well. Even tho I am a heavier woman at the moment, I've never had pain or any issues with this mat, and it came with a carry strap which I love! A good, thick workout mat is definitely necessary for working out at home for comfort, safety, etc. Make sure to disinfect it on occasion, especially if you sweat on it a lot!

Resistance Bands - I have about 3 or 4 at different resistance strengths, and they're incredibly useful for a variety of movements, especially lower body ones. They add some extra resistance and make the workouts a bit more challenging when you need something more advanced. I also got mine from Amazon/Walmart a while back. I prefer fabric over rubber because I like to wear workout shorts instead of workout leggings.

Pilates Ball - not a necessity, but useful with some pilates workouts and movements. I have seen sole videos using this, but am not advanced enough to try it on my own yet. Will use for sure once I'm more advanced.

3lb dumbbells - I thought these would be useful for the pilates workouts that had some upper body focus, and as someone who wants to develop a lean and toned upper body, they are perfect for low weight high rep, controlled movements. Again, not advanced enough to use as I want to master my form, but they're gonna come in handy for sure!

Foam Roller - so so good for stretching and muscle recovery on rest days. I love mine but want one that has the bump things on it to help my muscles more. I can imagine how good it'll feel on my legs during a recovery day when I begin wieght lifting again.

Massage Gun - my holy grail for the days I am sore and needing some recovery. my body feels like jelly after using this, and it's just so nice for the days my muscles feel extra tight and super sore.

🎀 Equipment I Want To Buy

Yoga Blocks - these will help me get deeper into the yoga poses once I get more advanced in my practice

Pilates Ring - this honestly looks so fun and challenging to use, I'd love to add it to my collection of useful workout equipment!

Jump Rope - I used to love this as a form of cardio and as long as I don't move into an upstairs apartment, I'm definitely buying one

Pilates Bar - still iffy on this one, it's supposed to mimic a reformer but I want to get better at mat pilates and see if I even end up ever needing or seriously wanting to buy it, its on my list tho

Ankle/Wrist weights - these are gonna be so useful for workouts where hand held dumbbells aren't useful. Want to buy some low weight ones just to help with resistance and extra strength during pilates workouts

Kettlebell weight - I think this would be useful for a workout at home type situation if and when I switch to not doing just pilates and yoga. I know these are useful in their own right, but not needed in my current fitness stage of life.

Core Sliders - these look fun and interesting. They're on my lost for sure, but not sure about the practicality of their use in my life just yet.

That's all that's currently on my at home workout equipment list! As someone who primarily works out at home, the things I currently own are most useful and most of what's on this list is for fun or extra challenge. Just not necessary yet.

hope you enjoyed this list! if you have any questions about my favorite youtuber workout instructors or favorite videos, please feel free to ask, I've tried so many and can give some guidance from my own experience and research.

til next time lovelies 🩷

[pupyuj]

dubcon pervy! g!p gym trainer yujin who touches you on parts she’s not supposed to?🤤 you’d be bent over the equipment and she’d press her hard cock against you with her fingers ghosting right above your breasts but that’s ok cuz she’s only correcting your form, right? right??!? it goes on for many sessions but you were a bit dumb to realize her advances :( so one day as she instructs you to do a stretcg that bends you over and gives her a delicious view of your ass, she loses all self-control, pushes your head against the yoga mat, and fucks you from behind hard and nasty like a rabid dog😫she’s been restraining herself for soooo long! and poor you couldn’t do anything but take her big cock cuz she was too strong (grabbing both of your wrists behind your back) :( both of you go on fucking in different positions, on every gym equipment, nonstop. and did i mention, you were a dumb virgin :( and it only turned yujin on even more when you were crying and begging her to stop bc you were unfamiliar with this (extremely good) sensation stirring up in your stomach :((( poor reader has never even touched herself before :( and all yujin wanted to do was to corrupt you😵‍💫

-🍒

this ask has been rotting in my drafts for months omg apologies 🍒 anon 😭😭💔 as always one can never go wrong with pervy yuj 🤓

[cw: dubcon.]

totally into the idea of this yujinnie here being someone you’ve actually known beforehand like maybe she’s an older sibling’s friend or smth so you feel super comfortable around her and is thus blind to anything weird she does to you 😵‍💫 bcs as far as you know that’s just who yujin is: affectionate and naturally touchy-feely with people that she knows! ofc that made it especially easy for her to get away with doing pervy things such as very very sexual comments about your body that she passed off as either jokes or ‘really specific compliments’, briefly brushing her hands against your boobs, touching your ass, etc. 🫣 and the touching doesn’t even stop outside of your one-on-one meetings! seriously, how could you be so stupid to ignore how her hand always rested so suspiciously low whenever she had an arm wrapped around your waist… she was almost disappointed that it was all too easy but you were still so pretty that she needed to fuck you 😳😳

she was hoping to slowly push you into wanting her back just so nobody can tell her shit about abusing her ‘position’ over you as this mentor figure, but one day you just showed up in a particularly skimpy outfit and that was the last straw for her! all morals out the window 😭 and it didn’t help that yujin hadn’t gotten off for days too.. it was perfect! yujinnie watching with bated breath while you were doing your cute little warm-up stretches, she didn’t care to hide her hard-on anymore because why would she?? you’ll get to see her dick in a matter of minutes anyway 🥰 but as morbidly horny yujin was, she doesn’t get to it right away! she had some manners! 😤 she helps you out with a few workouts as per usual, shares a few jokes and conversations here and there, she even showed you some pictures of her little puppy just to get you nice and comfortable… then you were finally laying on your back on a yoga mat while yujin towered above you, ‘helping’ you with some sit-ups although that wasn’t something that was in your routine before…

ah, yujinnie taking advantage of your exhaustion.. your head seemed to have taken you elsewhere bcs you rlly didn’t notice how she had fit herself in between your legs, her hard cock poking at your clothed cunt, her hands keeping your legs apart without too much pressure so you wouldn’t notice… that was until you blinked and set your eyes on yujin again.. “uhm.. unnie?” oh you were so stupid! really!? that’s all you’ll say about this extremely awkward and frankly, humiliating situation??! yujin couldn’t believe her ears, and her eyes! you didn’t make a single move to scuttle away like she expected you to!

it takes yujin a thrust of her hips for your poor instincts to finally kick in and you attempted to push her off.. only to have your wrists pinned above your head 😣 and before you knew it, your pants have been pulled down and you were taking yujin’s thick cock very painfully slowly.. she doesn’t bother to use her other hand to cover up your mouth, she needed to hear your voice.. hear how you whined and winced in pain but would moan her name at every thrust… and she likes how you got yourself to be free from her hold just to grab at her shirt and claw at her arms.. yk what she liked even more?? how you begged in tears for her to ‘wait’ and ‘slow down’ but didn’t make any attempts to push her away like before.. and ofc yujin doesn’t miss the way you’ve practically wrapped your legs around her waist—you wanted this!

if you ask me she was wayyy too ecstatic to help you with some other kind of workout 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ yujinnie practically manhandles you the entire time you fucked in that room… grabbing your waist tightly to the point she made marks on your skin with her nails then she’d aggressively push you around, making sure you’re in the perfect position to take her cock smoothly… face down, ass up, both of your hands gripping the mat for dear life while she pounds your holes… even making you gag and spit all over her fingers just to massage your clit in a way that makes you bite your lip until it bleeds… everything was painful, but it was also all just too good that you sat there and took it like the good girl yujin kept muttering that you were 😍

yujin’s big on praises for you bcs she always made sure to encourage you in your sessions but she was especially fond of you while she fucked your ass, for some reason! 🥰 so many “good girl”s and “good job”s… her praises only wanted you to be better for her ☹️☹️ so ofc you parted your own ass so she could go all out… literally thrusting into you like she will never fuck anyone ever again, biting your shoulder and drooling all over it like a dog in heat… you have never felt more accomplished in your life until yujin came inside you.. filling you up while you simultaneously squirted on her dick (which she liked very much btw!!) with a sweet moan that will surely be stuck in yujin’s head for daysss to come 😵‍💫

[gladiatorcunt]

- GUESS | XIII.

you wanna guess the color of my underwear, you wanna know what i got going on down there

cw: kinktober prompt (ass worship), yoga trainer!oikawa, fem reader, rimming, body hair, scent & piss mentions, light implied yandere, public sex (?), hinted possibly one sided iwazumi x reader, light dub con, mentions of fisting, implied that oikawa’s been into reader from the start, semi obsessive behavior, porno plot, self degradation, food play mention

please do not repost, translate, or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

“Mmh, just like that cutie, lift those hips up for me.”

You’ve been coming to the new yoga class that just opened up at the gym for a while now, a couple months a few times a week, you’re a bit of a homebody otherwise and yoga is the one physical exercise you don’t mind doing often. You like being flexible, able to bend your body in shapes and ways another person would have a harder time doing. And you’re not having sex, so any physically strenuous activity that leaves you sore until you’re put back together by your healing body does wonders for you.

Plus you like the way the leggings hug your well endowed assets, so do a lot of the men in the gym. You wear the form fitting workout clothes for yourself first and foremost, but you can’t lie that a little attention from afar (sometimes too close up by one of the trainer’s usually steps in to help you) boosts your ego. If there’s one thing in life you have to be proud of, at least you have your ass. Squishy and round, jiggles when you walk and never disappoints you unlike everything else in your life.

The same ass that’s raised high in the air in front of your yoga trainer, a more than handsome man in his late 20’s with wavy milk chocolate colored brown hair and a smug twinkle in his eye that’s connected to his smarmy always on his face (even when he seems pissed) grin. You’ll never forget the confidence in his posture, standing tall at the front of the class and introducing himself. Tooru Oikawa, just moved here from japan, his best friend owns the place so it wasn’t too much trouble to get hired, and SO excited to start this journey with you all!

You’ve stayed at the back since then, anxiety swirling in your belly when he’d make the rounds to correct your forms and check on you all. But he’d only pass by with a brisk touch to your back and a ‘good job’, maybe a semi solid pat if you were one of only ones who had a good form, and not to brag, but that’s been the case on more than one occasion.

Now you’re undergoing a little one on one session, he asked you to hang back, noticing you’ve been holding yourself back. You’ve never made much of an effort to talk to him and despite the fact that you’ve never needed this kind of focused attention, he’s been feeling a bit bad that you keep to yourself so much. He doesn’t bite you know, not unless you want him too.

It’s an odd flirtation, something you’ve noticed he never does with anyone else in the class. Oikawa’s attractive enough that you’d balk at him abusing his privilege to drown himself in quickies in the gym’s showers, as off putting as it’d be. But he’s very professional, chuckling at one of the older women making a pass at him and politely turning her down.

So you got in your own head and knew that since there was always room for improvement, surely there must be something he could help you with. So here you are, going through basic poses first before he pushes you into the more advanced ones. You told him that other than increasing your flexibility, you weren’t really sure what other areas would be best for you to get better at.

Oikawa smiled and squeezed your shoulder, no worries, he’ll walk you through a little assesment mini program. Since you mentioned not having done yoga seriously until now, there could easily be something you didn’t even realize needed to be attended to!

“Remember, we want to really feel that stretch, arch your back and lower your head. Breathe in, breathe out.” He instructs, settling a wide palm on your lower back. “That’s it, good girl.”

He’s so close, if you backed up to regain your footing your ass would press up against his bulge. Not that you can tell if he has one right now, but you’re kind of hoping he does. It’s just another part of the fantasy, that’s all this is, you tell yourself. You’re going to soak up the attention, make more small talk as you gather your things and leave, and sit at home suffocating your vibrator until your legs turn into jelly.

“Am I doing this right? My legs feel stiff.” You shift your weight from side to side, your hips gently sway, you could be too in your own head but having Oikawa’s pretty eyes scrutinizing every detail of your body is fucking with your confidence.

He hums, a trail of heat sizzles down your back as he slides his palm down to cup your hip. “If something seems off then it probably is, just widen your stance and put your feet further apart, loosen up your hips. You’re definitely a little tense, cutie.”

Okay so he’s definitely flirting with you, but you don’t startle and shoot back up so you can get out of here. Instead you internally cringe at the squeaks your yoga mat produces, adjusting your ankles to line up more with your shoulders. You keep breathing, in and out, letting your energy flow through your limbs as you maneuver them into the different positions.

Oikawa Tooru burns like a furnace in hell, you realize. Despite having a firm grip on your hip, he’s standing a respectable distance away from you as you bend over. You can still feel the heat radiating from him, his sleeveless muscle tank and his black shorts.

“I think that’s better. Sorry, it's hard for me to relax, I guess.”

“No worries, I totally get it, you do seem like the type to be wound up but that just means we get to unspool your thread and unravel you so we can get to the start and rebuild.” His free hand curls around your other hip, his thumbs absentmindedly stroke the crease where they disappear into your thigh.

This private coaching session is steadily becoming what you’re afraid of, and so horny for you could shoot off into the sky like a soda bottle chocked full of mentos. You didn’t notice when Oikawa got even closer, his blunt hip bones cradling your ass in between them. Could he just be weirdly, and grossly in most people’s eyes, friendly? Does he even see what he’s doing as being the tentative first step into fucking you in a public gym yoga studio?

“Um, yeah, thank you by the way. I’ve felt so much better since I’ve started taking your class, you’re a lifesaver even if I still have a lot to learn.”

“Oh, we all do, including me, believe it or not. I remember you from back then you know, so shy and fidgety, like a baby bunny.”

“You’ve really filled out too. Excuse me for saying this but I know this ass wasn’t always like this, so pretty and plump.” Toned hands drag over the swell of your cheeks, not digging in and kneading the globes, only ghosting their touch along the clothed flesh.

You subconsciously wiggle your hips, Oikawa’s breath hitches behind you, and that is perhaps the most monumental thing you could have achieved today. Flustering the man who gets hit on a billion times per day and gives it back tenfold, a competition of who can keep their cool, that’s how he operates in most things you guess. Like he’s always competing against somebody even if they don’t know, and he just has to win or it’ll be an ugly spot on his record. A record only he keeps and only he sees, but you sense that that’s more important to him than anything else.

“Oh, thank you. I just do a lot of squats every morning and every night after class, nothing crazy. Yoga’s the only other kind of workout I do consistently, anyway.” You're still in what feels like a perverted version of downward dog, briefly taking stock of the strain in your legs now trying to hold the position.

Oikawa makes a surprised sound, “Really? You have such a great body, I’m shocked you’re not a gym rat like me and all my buddies. Some people are just lucky, huh cutie?”

He says it, humble and charming, like he doesn’t also consider himself one of those people. Your cheeks heat up at the idea of a musclehead like Oikawa complimenting your curves, your chubby gathering of fat even in places some people would find ugly, your wideset bones and plush tummy.

A pin drops, “Alright. I think you’ve been in that position long enough, why don’t you go ahead and lower your knees into the table top pose, bring your head up slowly and remember to breathe. In, out, good girl.”

His hands guide your hips down, he steps back to let you settle your knees on the mat. You hear the foam sink behind you, he’s sort of kneeling too, halfway sitting on his legs, the backs of his feet facing the ceiling. Oikawa looms over you like this too, he has a presence you can be lost in before you actually see him, which you definitely can in the wall to wall mirror in front of you. The yoga class was a dance studio before Iwa decided it didn’t fit with his vision, you remember Oikawa telling you all on his first day.

He must feel your wide eyed stare, because he looks up too and suddenly you’re locked in a charged moment.

Neither of you says anything as his feather light touches on your ass become firmer, he’s outright groping you and pulling you back to be flush against his crotch.

He grinds his half hard bulge against you, keeping eye contact with you through the mirror.

“I can’t believe it’s taken you this long to notice me, cutie. Been wanting to do this for so long, you have no fucking idea.” He huffs, adjusting his clothed cock to rest between your cheeks. “You’re so hot, every time I saw you bend over I wanted to cancel class and take you right then and there.”

You gasp and rock back into him, shaking your hips and digging your knees into the mat. You have half a mind to look around the room for the camera and porn filming crew but reality is clearly stranger than fiction, your hot yoga trainer’s stiff cock is sandwiched in your ass crack.

He takes his sweet time dragging his length up and down, the tip catches in the divot of your leggings where your hole is, you’re a little disappointed that he’s not humping you like a rutting dog but you suspect that that’s part of the fun. Oikawa knows you want him so bad that he’ll restrain his urge to fuck you through the floor all the way to the center of the Earth just so you can endure some teasing. You’re so shy and withdrawn but those girls are usually the best kinds of freaks, all he’s doing is bringing it out of you, call it another one of his famous coaching methods.

The door’s locked, so if Iwazumi catches on to what’s happening and tries to rain on your parade, he’ll have to listen to a symphony of moans and slick sounds of bare sweaty flesh slapping against bare sweaty flesh. Oikawa laughs and tells you that Iwa’s been eyeing you too, when you check in at the front desk, when you’re getting water, when you head into the changing rooms to get ready for his class, it’d be helplessly cute if you weren’t already taken. Or, you’re gonna be, at the very least.

“When we’re done, I'll clean you up with my tongue and we can go on a little date. I can take you out properly this weekend but I'd hate for you to think that I was just trying to hit and quit it. I’m not the type to pump and dump, not anymore.” He speaks into the divide of your ass cheeks, having sunk to floor fully and doing some bending over of his own to be at eye level with your lower half.

You bite your lip when he starts nipping at you through your leggings, he smiles into the fabric and bites down harder, soothing the sting with slow licks. Oikawa kisses all over the swell of your behind, sniffing the scent of your perspiration and your body oil in between, medicinal vanilla and natural musk. You can see him hump the mint green yoga mat as he reaches up to hurriedly tug your leggings down enough to expose your ass. Your black thong frames it perfectly, but Oikawa pulls them off too and stuffs them under the waistband of his shorts.

He groans at the sight of your bare skin as it bounces free to say hello, taking a handful of each cheek and squeezing the life out of them, the thick flesh bulges between his fingers so he swiftly smacks each one, for tempting him and making his cock so hard it could explode into a blood filled mess of cum and sticky pubes in his pants. You cry out, rocking forward only to be immediately pulled back so he can keep kissing your ass.

He dotes on it like he would your face or mouth, almost giggling before and after quick pecks that develop into long slurps at your rim. He runs the tip of his nose over the hair on your crack, wetting it in messy swipes of his tongue.

“You taste so fucking good, baby, better than pastry i’ve ever had, and believe me, you don’t even want to know how much money i spend at the bakery across the street from my apartment. You’d love it.” He moans, saying hello to your winking hole by dotting barely there kisses right in the center before toying with you, dipping the tiniest bit of his tongue in your walls, then dragging his saliva all over your pucker. “It’d be fun to eat something off you, we could make a date out of it. Go up to the counter and pick which ones would taste the best when I eat it off your fat ass, but I think they’d all be amazing, don’t you?”

You nod rapidly and throw your ass back on his tongue, burning in shame with every smug laugh and grunt as Oikawa beats around the bush so to speak, doing everything under the sun with your ass but properly eating it. You wish you were in your shitty apartment, sitting on his face and drowning out the sound of your arguing neighbors with your slutty moans. He looks up from behind you to check on how you’re doing, and thank heavens because he finally buries his face in your ass and slurps at your puckered hole.

You lose yourself to the experience, feeling his wet tongue fuck into your ass hole and carve out little pieces of you for himself. He pays zero attention to your pussy, which is why it’s so wet and dripping onto the mat beneath you, it’s like he’s too obsessed with your thick globes to even notice, but you don’t hate it. It’s hot to have a guy be eye socket deep in your ass but also have him neglect where you really need his attention, there’s a dichotomy between being the mousey way you’ve gone about your life and the whorish behavior this man is urging you to consider.

You looked fucked out already, hair all over the place from how much you’ve messed with it and lips dropping open on drawn out squeals and whines. Oikawa is eating your ass out like it’s his main job, the one he puts in overtime for and goes above and beyond to be employee of the month at. He thrusts his tongue a few more times before apparently deciding that’s not enough and slipping in one of his absurdly long fingers alongside it.

You whimper, clenching around both as you just sit there in that damn table top pose and let a man you barely know play your ass like a well oiled fiddle. He shakes your cheek in his hand as he digs his tongue into you, delicately fingering your hole until it goes slack enough for him to insert another. You’re impossibly tight, as much as your clit is howling for it you know perfectly well that any serious penetration isn’t possible. From the impressions you got, Oikawa’s packing enough to tear you until you bleed if you don’t use lube or prep thoroughly beforehand, which you’d do anyways but it’s a shame.

Your clit throbs painfully but Oikawa pulls back with a gulp of air to level you with a warning look in the mirror, which only gets you wetter, you twitch again because he’s one of those. There’s a brief flicker of defiance, you could pout and touch yourself anyway, you don’t owe this ridiculously attractive man anything and he’s the one motorboating your ass cheeks and not the other way around, so shouldn’t you be the one in charge?

Then his eyes darken, you get another sharp smack and you table the discussion for some far off occasion.

Oikawa smiles, gently kissing the apple shaped swell of both of your cheeks, “See, I know from your time here that you can be such a good listener, you’re so sweet for me, I know it. You can’t hide that from me just because you want to throw a fit, I said we’d get to know each other afterwards, didn’t I?”

You scoot your ass back in apology, silently begging him to get back to it. He must really be horny too because he dives straight back in, groaning into your rim and french kissing your hole. The hand not doing its best to push its entirety into you kneads your fleshy ass cheek, molding it like dough and separating it from its twin, giving him easier access to your pucker. He ‘tsks’ not even a second later, crooking his two fingers and letting go off your cheek, humming in contentment when it bounces against his face and he’s smothered again.

He wonders if you’ll let him fist you, give you a unique one of a kind rose to swoon over and keep tucked away inside you later, the perfect first date gift from your future boyfriend.

You can even do couples yoga in the morning after your first night together!

“Let’s see if you can cum just from getting your ass played with.” Punctuated by a fourth finger sliding into the knuckle in your ass, he scissors his fingers to stretch you out and playfully acts like he’s gonna sink his whole fist in, pulling out his fingers to curl them into a ball.

The barest hint of blunt pressure on your hole sends a flood of your juices down his arm, smelling somewhat pissy which gives Oikawa truly the most impish grin imaginable.

[cassiemaebarnes]

Grumpy & the New Girl: Part 9

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Masterlist

Bucky x reader

Summary: She wasn’t supposed to meet him like that. He wasn’t supposed to let her in. But sometimes, things don’t go according to plan.

Word Count: 6090

I'm sorry in advance...

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of Bucky’s alarm cutting through the silence. You took a deep breath and sighed as your eyes fluttered open, Bucky right behind you with his arms wrapped around you.

You could feel him – all of him – pressed up against you.

You froze for a split second when your brain registered what it was. But Bucky either didn’t notice or didn’t care, he just groaned and pulled you closer to his chest.

A few moments later, you finally turned around to face him. “Can you turn that off?” you groaned. “I think that’s the most annoying alarm I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“I do that so I’ll actually have motivation to turn it off,” he said, finally letting go of you to turn it off.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, settling back into the pillow.

“Nope,” Bucky said, pushing the blanket off both of you. “If I’m late for training and you’re late for physical therapy, we’ll never hear the end of it.”

You just scoffed. “No matter what we do we’ll never hear the end of it,” you said, giving him a look.

He just laughed softly as he got up from the bed. He took a step, but then stopped, stretching his hands above his head and yawning.

His shirt lifted up enough for you to see the bottom half of his abs.

And the bulge in his sweatpants from what was pressing against you this morning.

You looked away quickly before he was done stretching so he didn’t catch you staring.

“C’mon,” he said.

You tried to shake the thought, groaning again as you pulled yourself up. You swung your legs over the side of the bed, just sitting there for a few minutes as Bucky started digging through his dresser and opened the closet, pulling out his clothes for the day.

You finally stood up, wincing as you put pressure on your ankle again.

“Make sure you ice it after PT,” he said, giving you a look.

“I will, I will,” you replied, waving him off. You walked over to the door, but turned around before you left. “See you downstairs?”

He just gave you a slight smile. “Yeah.”

His smile went away right after as he turned around and disappeared into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him.

Your eyebrows knit together immediately, confused about what just happened. He seemed fine at first, but something about his smile not quite being genuine just seemed…off.

You weren’t sure what it was, but you could tell something was wrong.

You thought about going over and knocking on the bathroom door, asking if everything was okay, but decided against it.

You made your way back to your room, not being able to shake the weird feeling.

You went to the bathroom, brushed your teeth, pulled your hair into a ponytail, then changed into your favorite workout set – leggings and a matching sports bra in your favorite color.

You grabbed Bucky’s sweatshirt that you still had, pulling it over your head as you walked out the door and headed to the kitchen.

You assumed Bucky would already be there, probably with a mug of coffee waiting for you, but when you walked in, he wasn’t there.

You paused for a split second, wondering if you should go check on him, but then continued to the coffee machine.

“Wow, didn’t walk in with your boyfriend today?” Sam said, smirking at you.

“Nope,” you responded as you reached up to the top shelf grabbing two mugs.

“Well that’s new,” Tony chimed in. “Where is he? Recovering from your pre-training cardio sesh?”

You just shot him a look. “No, just getting ready.”

Clint just hummed. “And you would know that why?”

You just sighed and shook your head.

“They obviously spent the night together again,” Sam said, sounding disgusted.

“They might as well just move all their stuff into one room and declare themselves roommates,” Nat said, smirking.

You just laughed softly as you poured two cups of coffee, trying not to show any sign that anything was wrong.

You hated to admit it, but you were worried.

Probably – hopefully – for nothing. But you couldn’t help it.

You walked over to the island and sat down in a chair, setting Bucky’s coffee in front of the space next to you.

As soon as you set the mugs down, Clint glanced at the second one.

“Two cups?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Look at her, making her man coffee now that her ankle’s better.”

“Guess she’s finally contributing to the relationship,” Sam added with a smirk.

You let out a quiet laugh, forcing it just enough to sound natural, hiding the way your chest felt tighter than it should’ve. You picked up your own mug and took a sip, focusing on the warmth instead of the twist in your stomach.

It was probably nothing. Maybe he was just tired. But still, something about the way his smile didn’t reach his eyes this morning lingered at the back of your mind.

“Careful,” Nat teased from across the island, elbowing Wanda as she slid the eggs back into the fridge. “She starts making coffee, next thing you know she’s packing his lunches and embroidering his initials on towels.”

You rolled your eyes, managing a smile as you looked up. “Okay, I’m not that far gone.”

Everyone laughed, and you relaxed just enough to let yourself laugh with them.

But then, your eyes flicked across the room and met Wanda’s.

She wasn’t laughing.

She was watching you, brow slightly furrowed, head tilted just enough to say she was already reading you like a book. You held her gaze for a moment too long, and something shifted in her expression. Not teasing – concern.

You quickly looked away, bringing your mug to your lips again like it could shield you.

Wanda didn’t say anything.

But she didn’t need to.

You both knew something was off. And even if no one else noticed, she did.

You stirred your coffee absentmindedly, eyes flicking toward the hallway, half-hoping Bucky would come around the corner with that usual sleepy grin to reassure you that everything was fine.

But he didn’t.

Not until a few, long minutes later.

The room didn’t react much at first. No teasing, no fanfare, he just looked like himself, more or less.

He didn’t even glance in your direction as he walked straight to the coffee machine.

“I already got your coffee,” you said softly, nodding toward the untouched mug in front of the seat beside you.

He paused just briefly, then looked down at it. “Oh…thanks.”

His voice was quiet. Rougher than usual.

He walked over, picked it up, and sat down next to you – not even looking your way.

The stool creaked slightly as he settled in, the silence stretching out just a little too long.

And then, of course, the others pounced.

“Barnes, you’re getting your coffee made for you now,” Sam said, raising his eyebrows dramatically. “How does it feel living like a spoiled man?”

Nat leaned against the counter, biting into a piece of toast. “She spends the night, makes you coffee in the morning – what’s next, back rubs on mission breaks?”

“Bet she packs his snacks,” Clint added. “Little love notes on his protein bars.”

Bucky gave them a small, dry smile – just enough to pass for amusement. “You’re all hilarious.”

“We know,” Tony said, smirking.

Bucky gave a quiet huff, not quite a laugh, and took a sip of his coffee.

But he still hadn’t looked at you.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. He was holding his mug with both hands with his elbows resting on the counter, head down like he was trying to hide. His shoulders were drawn in slightly and his jaw was tight.

And you knew.

Something was wrong.

You glanced across the kitchen and looked at Wanda. She was already watching him with the same look of concern she’d given you earlier.

Her brows were just barely furrowed, lips pressed into a subtle line as her eyes followed the way Bucky was avoiding eye contact, not offering up his usual quiet one-liners or easy comebacks.

She looked back over at you, and you quickly dropped your gaze, sipping your coffee again like everything was normal.

The teasing died off after another minute or two, and the rest of the conversation shifted to something else. The others laughed, throwing jabs back and forth, filling the kitchen with the usual chaos.

But you and Bucky sat in silence.

You kept glancing over at him, but he never looked up.

The kitchen had settled into a lull, the conversation trailing off into scattered chatter and clinking dishes when Steve finally stepped in, glancing at the clock on the wall.

“Alright,” he said, clapping his hands once. “Time to get moving. Training starts in ten.”

There were a few groans, but the sounds of chairs scraping back and footsteps filled the kitchen as the team started filing out one by one.

Bucky didn’t say anything.

He just stood, his stool sliding quietly against the floor as he picked up his half-full mug. He walked around the island without a word, dumped the rest of the coffee down the drain, and gave the mug a quick rinse.

You watched him as he moved, noticing he was a little too quiet.

He glanced at you just before he turned to go. “Good luck in PT.”

His voice was calm, even. But the smile he gave you wasn’t real – it was that same faint smile from earlier that didn’t touch his eyes.

“Thanks,” you said softly, but he was already turning.

He followed the others out of the kitchen, falling into step behind Sam and Tony like he hadn’t just left a pit in your stomach.

You watched the doorway long after he disappeared through it.

A moment later, Steve hung back, stepping over to where you still sat.

“You ready?” he asked, his voice gentler than usual. “We’ve got a room set up off the training space. I’ll walk you through the first set of exercises, then let you work through them.”

You blinked, pulled from your thoughts. “Yeah. Okay.”

You stood slowly, grabbing your water bottle and following him out. Steve walked beside you, talking quietly about what to expect, but you barely heard him.

Because even as you nodded along and did your best to listen, your mind stayed stuck on the way Bucky hadn’t really looked at you this morning.

You knew that something was wrong, but you had no idea what it was.

--

As Bucky walked into the training room, he paused for a brief second, squeezing his eyes shut.

The lights in the training room were too bright. Too sharp.

He blinked against them as he walked in, shoulders tense, eyes narrowing slightly as the sting behind his eyes flared again – not blinding yet, but enough to make the world feel a little off-balance. A little too loud. A little too much.

He rolled his shoulders, forced a deep breath, and tried to shake it off.

Just focus. Get through it.

But it had started the second he woke up – that familiar, dull ache humming behind his eyes. Not a full migraine, not yet. Just the warning.

And he’d known, instantly, what kind of day it would be.

Even with her still curled against him, warm and safe in his arms, he felt it building.

He’d stayed there longer than he should’ve. Eyes closed. Breathing slow. Pretending the pressure in his head wasn’t growing by the minute. Pretending the weight of her against his chest could keep it at bay.

But it hadn’t.

And once she left the room, it hit sharper.

He’d stood at the bathroom sink, splashing cold water on his face, gripping the edge with both hands as the ache pressed behind his eyes like a growing storm. He took a couple pain pills from the bottle in the cabinet, swallowing them dry.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, just breathing, before finally forcing himself to get dressed and head downstairs.

He didn’t even realize how quiet he’d been when he walked into the kitchen. Didn’t notice the way he avoided looking at her. Didn’t register that when she made him his coffee, he barely even thanked her.

It wasn’t because of her. God, it was never because of her.

He just…couldn’t focus. Couldn’t think about anything but keeping it together long enough to get through training. Long enough to stay upright.

So he smiled. He laughed when they teased him. Gave them just enough to let it pass.

He didn’t notice the way she kept glancing at him.

Didn’t realize his silence was different.

Didn’t know she’d seen right through it.

He just kept walking toward the weights, jaw tight, fingers flexing like he could squeeze the pain out of his system before it really took hold.

Just get through it.

--

As you went through your exercises, you kept trying to convince yourself that nothing was wrong.

Maybe he was just tired and didn’t realize how he was acting. You were sure there had to be an explanation.

But when you finished and headed out to the training room to find Steve, Bucky was already gone.

You tried to ignore the lump forming in your throat.

You had expected him to at least come check on you at some point. Not that he had to, but you just assumed he would.

You were debating whether or not to just go straight to his room to try to find him, but before you could make a move, Steve called you over.

“You all done?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Great, how does it feel?”

“Sore,” you said, looking down at your ankle.

“Well, that’s normal,” he said. “And unfortunately it’ll probably be worse later from the PT, but that’s good.”

You just nodded.

“Follow me,” he said, motioning you over to the medical room off the training floor.

When you walked in, he had you sit on a chair.

“Instead of just putting an ice pack on it, I want you to do an ice bucket,” he said, grabbing a bucket from the corner and starting to fill it with water. “That way, it can get your whole ankle instead of just one side.”

“Okay,” you said.

“I would try to stay off your ankle as much as you can today, just to let it rest,” he said, scooping ice from the ice machine into the bucket. “Don’t use your crutches, but limit your walking.”

“Okay,” you said, again.

“I’m sure Bucky will help you though,” he responded, giving you a knowing smile.

You just smiled back.

But then, you realized, Steve might know what’s going on. He’s known Bucky his whole life, so he’s definitely gotten like this before, and he might know what’s wrong.

But as you opened your mouth to ask him, his ringtone cut through the silence.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket to look at the screen.

“Oh, sorry, I have to take this. It’s about our next mission.”

He set the bucket down in front of you. “Wait a couple minutes to let the water get colder, then leave your ankle in for about 10 minutes,” he said, walking toward the door. “Just dump it in the sink when you’re done.”

He gave you one last smile before disappearing out the door.

You sat there in the chair, eyes trained on the wall, mind going a million miles a minute.

You waited a couple minutes, like he said, and then carefully slid your foot into the bucket.

You hissed through your teeth at the sting, the sharp cold surrounding your ankle. But it helped.

You tried to focus on that.

Not the fact that Bucky hadn’t come to check on you.

Not the weird tightness in his jaw or the way his eyes avoided yours at the table.

You stared down at the ice water, arms crossed over your chest, chewing on your bottom lip as your mind started spiraling again.

Maybe he was tired.

Maybe he was overwhelmed.

Maybe it had nothing to do with you at all.

Or maybe…something was wrong and he just wasn’t telling you.

He could be hurting. Pulling away. Regretting the closeness you’d fallen into so easily.

Maybe last night had meant more to you than it had to him.

You swallowed hard, pressing your arms tighter around yourself.

But that wasn’t right. It couldn’t be right. It didn’t feel like that. Not last night. Not when he helped you into bed like it was instinct. Not when he kissed your forehead like you were the most precious thing in the world.

You knew him.

He didn’t fake that.

Which only made this morning more confusing.

Your gaze drifted to the door again, tempted to get up right then and there, half-limp across the compound if you had to, find him, ask him what’s wrong.

But the bucket of ice water was anchoring you in place. And maybe, deep down, you were scared of what you’d hear.

Your jaw clenched as you exhaled through your nose and looked down again.

The pain in your ankle was sharp, but the ache in your chest was worse.

And no matter how many reasons you tried to come up with…none of them were good enough to explain why he suddenly felt so far away.

--

After 10 minutes, you pulled your ankle out of the bucket and set it on a towel you grabbed from the shelf. You slowly wrapped it around your ankle, patting it dry.

After getting up and dumping out the bucket, you grabbed Bucky’s sweatshirt that you had taken off and your sock and shoe off the counter. You didn't bother to put them on as you headed out of the training room toward the elevator.

When you got in, your hand paused in front of the keypad.

You wondered whether or not you should stop at his room. See if he’s okay. Ask what’s wrong.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You pressed the 8 and leaned back against the wall as the elevator doors slid shut.

You made your way to your room, stepping out of your other shoe and pulling off your sweaty clothes before jumping in the shower.

You just stood under the hot water, letting it run over your shoulders and down your back. Steam curled up around you, letting you relax a little bit, but not much.

You finally grabbed the shampoo, squeezing some into your palm and lathering it into your hair. You tried to distract yourself from your thoughts, but it wasn’t working very well.

A few minutes later, you turned off the water, stepping out of the shower and dried yourself off. You pulled on shorts and Bucky’s sweatshirt again before heading down to the kitchen for lunch.

When you walked in, everyone was there.

Except Bucky.

You finally stepped in, trying to ignore the pit in your stomach.

There was a spread of ingredients lined the counter – a lineup of lunch meats, cheeses, and every kind of topping imaginable. There were fresh buns stacked on a plate, along with bowls of fruit, veggie sticks, chips, and a few dips scattered around.

Everyone was gathered around the island, making their sandwiches and stealing bites as they went, like a little lunch assembly line.

You grabbed a plate from the stack and reached for a bun, trying to act normal.

“Again?” Sam said, the second he spotted you. “This is the second time today you’re not attached at the hip.”

You glanced over and rolled your eyes. “I know. Tragic.”

“Uh-huh,” Clint chimed in, holding up a tomato slice. “You guys have been joined at the soul since you met. Now suddenly you’re flying solo? Suspicious.”

“She probably made him another coffee and is letting him nap in her room,” Nat said, smirking over her shoulder. “Or maybe she gave him a massage after training.”

You gave a small laugh, just enough to play along, putting meat onto your bun.

“Seriously though,” Wanda added, glancing up as she loaded her own plate. “He’s not coming?”

You shrugged, forcing a casual tone. “I don’t know. Maybe he already ate. Or maybe he’s resting.”

“Or maybe he’s just lying in bed pining for her,” Tony said dramatically. “Clutching a photo. Whispering her name.”

You snorted, reaching for a handful of chips. “You people are unwell.”

Sam raised a brow. “You’re deflecting.”

“I’m eating,” you countered, grabbing a few grapes from the fruit bowl and dropping them onto your plate. “Big difference.”

They kept teasing, but the energy was light. No one noticed the way your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. No one caught the way your shoulders dropped just a little as you turned toward the fridge to grab a drink.

But as you moved past Wanda, she looked up again, eyes flicking over you carefully.

And for a moment, you could feel her watching.

Just like this morning.

Again…she didn’t say anything.

You didn’t either.

You just turned and headed to the table to sit down, eating your sandwich and laughing when they made another joke, acting like everything was fine.

You expected Bucky to eventually show up to eat.

But he never did.

--

When you finally finished eating, some of the others were already heading out of the kitchen. You got up and headed to the sink, turning on the water before running your plate under it.

A few moments later, Wanda walked up beside you.

“Everything okay?” she asked, only loud enough for you to hear.

You kept your eyes on the plate in your hands, scrubbing slowly even though it was already clean.

“Yeah,” you said quickly. “Everything’s fine.”

Wanda didn’t say anything at first.

She just looked at you.

And you could feel it – that knowing, quiet gaze of hers, the kind that made it impossible to lie for long. Like she could see right through you.

You sighed and shut off the water, setting the plate on the drying rack. “He was just…acting off this morning. I have no clue what’s going on.”

Wanda leaned her hip against the counter, folding her arms loosely. “I noticed, too.”

You turned to face her, biting your lip. “You did?”

She nodded. “He barely said two words at breakfast. Didn’t even look at you.”

Your heart gave that little ache again, the one you’d been trying to ignore all day.

“Did something happen between you two last night,” she asked, quietly.

“No,” you responded. “We watched a movie, fell asleep like usual. Everything was normal.”

Wanda’s brows furrowed slightly. “And then this morning?”

You looked down at the edge of the sink. “This morning he was quiet. Still sweet, still…him, kind of. But distant. Like something was on his mind. And when we got to the kitchen, it was like I wasn’t even there.”

Wanda’s voice stayed soft. “You don’t think he’s pulling away?”

You shook your head. “No. I mean, maybe? I don’t know. That’s what’s driving me crazy. I just…I don’t get it. It felt like we were on the same page, and now it feels like he’s a thousand miles away.”

Wanda stayed quiet for a moment, her eyes scanning your face.

“Then something’s bothering him,” she said finally. “And I don’t think it’s you.”

You met her eyes, vulnerable in a way you hadn’t let yourself be all day.

“You really think so?”

“I know so,” she said, gently touching your arm. “You’d know if he was trying to pull away. That’s not what this is.”

You nodded slowly, holding onto her words like a lifeline.

“Okay,” you said, quietly.

Still, your stomach turned.

Because if it wasn’t you...then what was it?

Wanda gave you a soft pat on the back before walking away. You grabbed the dish towel and dried your hands before walking out of the kitchen.

You made your way to the elevator and pressed the 7 before you could stop yourself.

As you made your way down the hall, it was quiet. You stopped in front of his door, standing there for a few minutes before finally knocking.

Nothing.

You didn’t hear any movement inside the room. You didn’t even know if he was in there.

“Bucky?”

Still nothing.

You sighed, not knowing whether or not you should just walk in. But you needed to know if he was okay.

You grabbed the door handle, turning it slowly and taking a step inside.

You were met with complete darkness. The shades were closed and curtains were drawn. They had to have been heavy-duty blackout curtains, because there was no light slipping through at all.

When your eyes finally adjusted, you spotted Bucky, curled up in a ball on his bed.

Your heart tugged at the sight.

You softly shut the door behind you, thinking he was asleep. But when you walked over to the bed, you saw his eyes slowly open.

“Bucky?” you said, softly. “What’s wrong?”

You stood over his bed for a few moments, him not saying anything.

But finally, he spoke, voice barely above a whisper.

“Migraine.”

Your heart broke at the sound of his voice. So weak and fragile, like he was about to fall apart at any moment.

You slowly sat down on the edge of the bed, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear and letting your hand rest there, thumb softly rubbing circles over his temple.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” you whispered.

Again, he was silent for a few moments. Then–

“Stay.”

Your heart broke even more, wanting to cry from how much pain he sounded like he was in.

You quietly got up, slipping underneath the covers with him. You put your arms around him as he pulled you closer, burying his face in your chest immediately.

His breath was shaky and uneven against your chest, and you could feel the tension radiating through every part of him.

You lifted your hand and let your fingers trail up into his hair. You began running them through it slowly – soft, soothing strokes. Over and over.

You felt him exhale, just barely, the tiniest bit of release.

“I’ve got you,” you whispered, your lips brushing the top of his head.

Your heart ached with every breath he took, every slight tremble in his body as he tried to ride it out. But at the same time, you felt an unexpected sense of relief wash over you.

Not because he was in pain.

But because you knew now.

He wasn’t pulling away. He wasn’t angry or distant because of anything you did. He was just suffering, quietly – the way he always had, for so long.

And now…he let you in.

You kept combing your fingers gently through his hair, occasionally rubbing slow circles into the back of his neck.

The room was silent except for the sound of your shared breathing – the occasional shuddered inhale or ragged exhale from him.

You pressed a kiss to his hair, letting your lips rest there for a moment.

You stayed like that for a long time, gently running your fingers through his hair, your other arm wrapped securely around his back. His breathing stayed shallow, his body tense, but little by little, you could feel it begin to ease – not completely, but enough to know the worst of the pain was starting to let go.

Eventually, his breathing evened out.

His grip on your shirt loosened ever so slightly.

And with one last soft sigh against your chest…he fell asleep.

You didn’t move.

You just laid there, staring up at the ceiling in the dark, the faint rise and fall of his chest against yours grounding you.

And finally, with your hand still tangled in his hair and your other arm still holding him tight, your own eyes began to drift shut.

--

You didn’t know how long you were out.

But when you blinked awake, the room was still dark, the air still thick with quiet.

And Bucky was still in your arms.

Still curled into you, his head resting against your collarbone, one arm draped across your waist. You could feel the steady beat of his heart, calm now, his body no longer trembling with pain.

You didn’t move, just looked down at him, brushing your fingers gently through his hair again.

After a couple minutes, he stirred.

He shifted slightly, then stilled again – like he wasn’t sure where he was. Then his head lifted just a little, eyes fluttering open.

And when his gaze met yours…there was a flicker of something in them.

Surprise.

Maybe even disbelief.

His voice was soft. Weak. Still rough from hours of silent pain.

But it went straight through your chest like a blade.

“You’re still here.”

Your heart broke all over again.

Your arms tightened around him slightly as your throat caught.

“Of course I’m still here.”

His expression wavered – just a little – like your words cracked something open inside him.

He took a little breath and sighed, letting his head slowly rest against your chest again.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered.

Bucky didn’t answer right away.

He just lay there against you for a few more minutes, breathing slow and steady, your hand still gently tracing through his hair. You didn’t say anything. You didn’t need to. You just held him.

Eventually, he shifted – slowly, like he wasn’t quite ready to leave the safety of your arms, but knew he had to move.

He sat up just enough to lean on one elbow, the other hand coming up to rub his eyes, fingers dragging down his face as he exhaled quietly.

You pushed yourself up a little, still close, watching him carefully.

“How are you?” you asked, voice soft.

“Better,” he rasped, his voice still raw around the edges as he blinked a few times and ran his hand over his face again. “Head’s not pounding anymore. Just…foggy.”

You gave a small, relieved nod. “That’s good.”

He looked over at you then, eyes heavy but clearer than before. “How long was I out?”

“Couple hours, maybe,” you said. “You needed it.”

He nodded slowly, then glanced down, like part of him was still processing the fact that you’d been here the whole time. That you stayed.

You reached out and gently brushed a piece of hair off his forehead, your hand lingering there for a moment.

“I was worried,” you whispered.

He met your eyes again, and this time…he didn’t look away.

“I know,” he said quietly.

You sat with him in silence for another minute, just watching as he slowly came back to himself. Shoulders less tense now, breathing more even, the worst of the pain behind him.

Then, gently, you reached out again, your voice soft. “Do you need anything?”

He paused, rubbing the heel of his hand over his temple once more before exhaling through his nose. “I should probably eat something.”

You nodded immediately. “I can go make you a sandwich. There’s still stuff left from lunch.”

He looked at you for a beat, then gave a small nod. “Okay. Thanks.”

You gave his hand one last squeeze before slipping out from under the covers, careful not to jostle the bed too much. As you stood, you glanced toward the door, hesitating for a moment before whispering, “Try to rest. I’ll be right back.”

He just nodded again, watching you with quiet eyes.

You moved quickly, quietly, pulling the door open just enough to slip through it. You winced at the tiny crack of light that spilled into the room, but you shut it as softly as you could behind you.

You got in the elevator, then made your way down the hall, still barefoot, Bucky’s sweatshirt hanging loose around you.

The kitchen was empty now, the lunch mess cleaned up, ingredients tucked in the fridge and stacked in containers on the counter. You grabbed a plate, then began making his sandwich. You weren’t sure exactly what he liked, but you had an idea.

When it was done, you put the containers back in the fridge before grabbing a water bottle and making your way back to his room.

The hallway was still empty as you approached his door, and you slipped back inside as gently as you had left, carefully closing the door behind you without letting in too much light.

The room was still dim, still quiet. Bucky hadn’t moved much – he was just sitting up a little more now, propped against the headboard with the blankets still bunched around his waist. His hair was tousled, his eyes tired, but he gave you a soft look as you came over to him.

You crawled back onto the bed and handed him the plate and water, your voice low. “Here you go.”

He took it from you slowly, like he couldn’t quite believe it. “You’re spoiling me.”

You gave him a small smile, tugging the blankets back over your legs. “Someone’s gotta make sure you eat.”

He took a bite, chewing carefully, and then let out a soft hum. “Okay…this is the best sandwich I’ve ever had.”

You laughed gently. “You’re delirious.”

He gave a small smile, eyes flicking toward you. “Might be. But it’s still good.”

You sat beside him as he ate, your eyes drifting toward the closed curtains. The room felt warmer now, more settled.

He finished a few more bites in silence, then glanced at you again, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Thanks for staying.”

Your heart squeezed, but you just gave a soft nod. “Always.”

He looked at you a moment longer, then took another bite, finally letting out a breath that sounded a little lighter.

When he finished the sandwich, he set the plate on his nightstand and drank about half the water bottle in one breath. He sighed before setting that on the nightstand too.

“Feel better?” you asked.

“Yeah. Thank you.”

You just gave him a smile before he leaned over and rested his head on your shoulder, taking a deep breath.

“The migraines…” he started, before pausing for a few moments. “They remind me of being back there.”

You stilled, not expecting him to talk about it. You didn’t say anything, just shifted and put your arm around him, rubbing his shoulder as he continued.

“With the wiping, I always had a constant headache. I got so used to it, I learned to ignore it. But now…they only happen every once in a while, but they’re so painful.”

He fell quiet again, his head still on your shoulder. You kept rubbing slow circles into his arm, still not saying anything.

Bucky let out a breath, the kind that felt like it was pulled from somewhere deep.

“I usually try to hide it,” he said after a moment, voice barely more than a whisper. “Most people don’t really notice. Or…they think I’m just in a mood. That I’m being quiet or distant on purpose.”

He paused, and you could feel the faintest shift in his shoulders – not tension, exactly. More like vulnerability.

“But you…” He turned his head just slightly, his cheek brushing your shoulder. “You saw something was wrong. And you didn’t just leave me to it.”

Your hand paused for a second, then started moving again – slower now, gentler.

He pulled in a shaky breath. “Thank you,” he said again, quieter this time. “For staying.”

Your heart ached – for how small his voice was when he said it, for how surprised he sounded.

You tightened your arm around him and leaned your head lightly against his before answering.

“Of course,” you said. “I’ll always stay.”

He didn’t respond right away, but you felt the way his body relaxed just a little more against yours, like those words had settled something in him.

Like maybe, for the first time in a long time, he believed them.

The room stayed quiet for a while, just the slow rhythm of your breathing filling the space.

The rest of the day was spent together in his bed, switching between quiet conversation and comfortable silence, him wrapped up in your arms.

Because somehow, without either of you saying it out loud, this had changed everything.

And neither of you wanted to let go.

--

Part 10 | Masterlist

Tag list: @ordelixx @read-just-cant-stop @erinallene @crazycleo @magnoliamermaid @thewriters64 @nelachu2423 @kjah97 @awesompawsum @winchestert101 @buckyb-stan @crazyunsexycool @buckysmetalgoddamnarm @buckybarnesfic @ozwriterchick @multiversefanfics @blavikennbutcher @mysoggywaffle @nameless-ken @starfly-nicole @440mxs-wife @vicmc624 @lostinspace33 @prettylittlepluviophile @softpia @maryevm @glossy01 @ye-olde-trash-panda @bonnyclydecat @iyskgd @ohdrey89 @death-in-love

[swappedandtrapped]

Swapping Research - Part 2

Read part 1 here Read part 3 here

The first shower was the worst. Marcus stood frozen in Tyler's bathroom, avoiding the mirror, peeling off unfamiliar workout clothes from an unfamiliar sweaty body. The smell, a mix of cheap deodorant and Tyler's sweat, was inescapable. He kept his eyes fixed on the ceiling as he stepped under the water, trying to ignore the strange dimensions of his new form. Longer legs, broader shoulders, muscles that shifted differently beneath the skin.

Impossible not to touch, though. Impossible not to feel. Every movement reminded him he was piloting someone else's flesh. Soaping Tyler's body almost felt like touching someone else with all that thick hair and unfamiliar mass.

After, he studied Tyler's face in the mirror (the slight chip in the front tooth, the stubble that grew…). He tried a smile and flinched at how wrong it looked, how the expressions didn't match the musculature.

He wanted to believe that from looking behind Tyler's eyes you could still tell it was Marcus in the pilot seat. But those eye resembled nothing other than Tyler's Brown eyes.

His phone, Tyler's phone, buzzed with notifications. Basketball practice in an hour. A text from someone named Jas with just a winky face. Three missed calls from "Dad."

"Shit," Marcus muttered, the curse sounding natural in Tyler's voice. His own parents emailed weekly for updates. Tyler's father seemed to be calling multiple times daily.

The phone rang again. Dad.

"Hey," Marcus answered cautiously.

"You watch the Gonzaga vid I sent? Their defense has that weak spot on the baseline when they double-team. You need to exploit that tomorrow."

"Uh, yeah. I saw that."

"Don't 'uh yeah' me. This is your future, Tyler. Those scouts won't come back if you play like you did last time."

Marcus held the phone away from his ear, understanding blooming about Tyler's desperate academic measures.

"I'll work on it," Marcus said.

A heavy sigh. "Just don't throw away everything we've built."

---

In Organic Chemistry, Marcus was caught off-guard when he saw Tyler sitting at his desk. Realizing what he needs to do, he sat at Tyler's assigned desk, hyperaware of how differently people treated this body. Girls smiled, guys nodded in recognition. The professor barely glanced at him. The invisibility Marcus had as a serious student was replaced by a strange social spotlight that felt simultaneously flattering and exhausting.

The professor started the exam. Marcus began working through complex molecular mechanisms with ease. Tyler's hand felt clumsy gripping the pencil, but the knowledge remained intact, for now. He finished early and noticed people glancing at him with surprise.

Outside after the test, a teammate clapped him on the shoulder. "Yo, Reeves, we're grabbing lunch before practice. You coming?"

The old Marcus would have declined, retreated to the library. But something in Tyler's body responded differently. A pull toward social connection, a need for movement and interaction rather than quiet study.

"Yeah," he heard himself say. "I'll come."

---

Later on, Tyler sat in Marcus's Advanced Physiology class, experiencing an entirely different reality. For the first time in his life, the professor's words didn't scramble in his mind. He took notes, each letter staying exactly where he placed it on the page. He raised his hand to answer questions, the information flowing effortlessly.

The professor stopped him after class. "Excellent contributions today, Marcus. That connection was insightful."

Tyler felt a rush of pleasure he never knew he could have. "Thank you, sir."

In the library afterward, Tyler opened Marcus's planner and studied the color-coded schedule. Med school interview prep sessions. Study blocks. A family video call on Sunday. He ran his fingers over the neat handwriting, experiencing the peculiar sensation of being organized from the outside in, rather than constantly fighting his own brain.

He took out his phone, Marcus's phone, and called Alex.

"Any adverse effects?" she answered without greeting.

"It's incredible," Tyler whispered. "I can read anything. First try. No reversals, no swimming words. Alex, I never knew it could be like this."

"The transfer is temporary," she reminded him. "Don't get too attached."

Tyler touched the textbook in front of him, the words remaining stable on the page. "Yeah," he said. "Temporary."

He hung up and noticed Marcus had scheduled a meeting with his academic advisor for tomorrow. Tyler had his own advisor meeting—one that would determine his academic probation status.

After a moment's hesitation, he rescheduled both to a later date.

---

Basketball practice was a nightmare. Marcus had played casually in high school, but navigating a collegiate practice in Tyler's body was like being thrown into a professional orchestration with no knowledge of the music.

"Reeves! Where's your head today?" Coach Barrett shouted when Marcus missed an obvious pass. "Run it again!"

The team's offensive sequence required multiple cuts and screens that Marcus couldn't anticipate. Tyler's body knew where to go. He could feel the muscle memory trying to take over. But his conscious mind couldn't surrender control.

Most disturbing was the pain in Tyler's right knee, a persistent ache that worsened with each cut and jump. In the locker room afterward, Marcus discovered a carefully hidden brace and prescription anti-inflammatories in Tyler's bag.

Tyler had never mentioned any injury.

---

Three days had passed. Marcus paced Tyler's apartment, anxiety building. The 24-hour deadline had come and gone with Tyler making excuses: Alex needed more data, one more day would help their understanding, the neural pathways needed to stabilize.

Worse than the delay was how Marcus's sense of self had begun to blur. He'd catch himself speaking with Tyler's inflections, laughing at jokes he normally wouldn't understand, craving foods Tyler's body was accustomed to. Last night he'd dreamed in Tyler's memories—fractured images of a childhood basketball court and a father shouting at him.

His phone buzzed. A text from Alex: Meet at lab at 7.

When Marcus arrived, Tyler was already there, wearing Marcus's body like he'd been born to it. The sight still caused a visceral wrongness, watching his body move with someone else's mannerisms.

"You missed another check-in," Marcus said. "And you canceled my medical school interview prep session."

"Rescheduled," Tyler corrected, sitting with a straight-backed posture Marcus recognized as his own. "This was more important. Alex is seeing unprecedented neural adaptation. Our minds are actually reshaping our borrowed brains."

"That's not comforting," Marcus snapped. "We had an agreement. Twenty-four hours."

"I needed more time," Tyler said quietly. "You don't understand what this is like for me."

"And my interview? It's in four days."

"I'll handle it."

"You'll—" Marcus stared. "No. Absolutely not. We're switching back. Now."

Tyler exchanged a look with Alex. Something passed between them that sent a chill through Marcus.

"What did you do?" Marcus demanded.

Tyler sighed. "I asked Alex to modify the procedure."

"Modify how?"

"The reversal process is more complex than anticipated," Alex interjected, not meeting his eyes. "The neural pathways have begun permanent adaptation."

"Permanent?" Panic surged through Marcus, his heart—Tyler's heart—hammering. "That wasn't the deal. You promised twenty-four hours!"

"I was drowning," Tyler said, Marcus's voice cracking with emotion. "Every day. Words jumbling, professors thinking I'm stupid or lazy. Do you know what it's like to have the answers trapped in your head while everyone looks at you like you're worthless?"

"So you're stealing my life? My future?"

"I'm borrowing it," Tyler insisted. "Just until after the semester. Then we'll figure something out."

Marcus looked between them, realization dawning. "You never intended to switch back, did you?"

The silence was his answer.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Can't Have One Without the Other 8

Warnings: non/dubcon, marital troubles, body insecurity, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Summary: your marriage is on the rocks.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You wake up short of refreshed. The tension lingers in you; tingles in the cut along your cheek.; boils beneath the hand locked on your hip. 

Bucky clings to you, not affectionately, only as if to make sure you’re still there. You stare at the wall, your back to him, and repress a sigh. Start over. That’s the agreement. You have to try, otherwise he’ll be sure to remind you that you aren’t. 

You touch his fingers gently and try to shift his hand. His grip curls and he brings himself flush to your back. He growls into your hair. 

“Morning,” he drawls. 

“Morning,” you eke out. “Coffee?” 

“Hold on,” he squeezes even tighter, “I like this. Let’s just enjoy this.” 

You relent. You do your best to relax but it’s impossible as the tenderness in your cheek throbs. An echo of the day before. 

“What about protein? For our workout?” He slips his hand along your stomach. You stop him and cringe. 

“I think there’s some powder around here,” you answer. “I’ll do shakes?” 

“Mmm,” he nuzzles you. “We could get in some early morning stretches?” 

You make yourself laugh. Or try to. 

“I have morning breath,” you rub his knuckles. “Maybe after?” 

He growls, “I’ll be quick.” 

You blink at the wall. Don’t let him know you’d rather do anything else. Even after yesterday, he thinks he can just fuck your problems away. You just have to bide your time. 

You don’t say a word. If you do, you might give yourself away. You follow his forearm and hip your hand between you. You trail along the elastic of his boxers. He groans. 

“No, not your hand,” he pulls your touch away. He shifts and pushes down the fabric, leaning into the mattress on his stubbed shoulder. His arm is on your dresser. Why is it there? 

He tugs at your pajamas. You flinch and quickly roll them down. You bite the tip of your tongue and arch your back as you lift your leg and he reaches around your pelvis. He spreads your folds with two fingers, using the middle to rub your clit. His tip twitches against you. 

He delves further back to catch his swollen head between his knuckles and guides himself into you. He slides in slowly, rubbing your clit as he carefully rocks. You close your eyes and gulp, rigid even as your insides turn to mush. 

He’s still your husband. You still love him deep down inside. But that fire is missing. There’s no spark. Only the biological, nothing past that. 

You moan and turn your face into the pillow as he bottoms out. He snarls against your ear and pumps into you, fingers and hips moving in tandem. He coils your nerves around his fingertips as he strains your walls to their limit. 

“Fuck, just as good as the first time, huh?” He rasps. 

You hum. A noise that could be taken as agreement or pleasure. You give him just enough to be content. 

You gnash down until your jaw hurts, squeezing your eyelids until they prick. You focus on breathing through it. You just hope he keeps this promise and is quick. 

💍

Bucky holds up the pads. “Come on.” He claps them together. 

You look up as you lunge into a stretch. “I’m not done my warm-up.” 

“Got that in this morning,” he winks. “Come on. Hit me. You know you wanna.” 

You stand straight. You don’t like how he’s acting. Ever since you woke up, he’s been taunting you. Maybe you shouldn’t have let him in so easy. 

You pull the gloves on over your wrapped hands and strap them up tight. You slant your mouth as you try to remember your form. Feet, hands. You approach him with gloves up. 

“Ah, watch your flank,” he hits your shoulder easily. 

You wince and recoil but reset. You sniff and focus, brows forming a V. 

“It’s just a workout, Bucky,” you say as you roll your shoulders. “Been a while...” 

“Let’s go,” he slaps the pads together again, his arms bulging, metal and flesh alike. You feel weak just looking at him. “Don’t you to get me back.” 

You squint. He smirks. Your cheek thrums. You take a breath. 

Your first strike he bats aside with ease. The second and third too. He boxes your shoulders and you struggle to dodge away from him. You’re out of shape. Out of practice. You were never a natural fighter. 

“Alright, just let me--” you huff as your thighs burn. 

“Let you what? We’re sparring. Stay on it, doll.” 

You jab the pads and he scoffs. 

“Harder.” 

“Bucky.” 

“Harder. Put some effort in... for once.” 

You frown. What? You hit again. He snickers. 

“Eh, you could do better.” 

One, two. Thump, thump. It doesn’t even make him flinch. 

“Do it again,” he goads. 

You keep going, the sweat forming on your hairline and across your neck.  

“Feet. Don’t forget your feet,” he comes closer. 

You bounce and do your best to stay away from his next attempt. He gets you in the side. You grunt and your feet tangle up. You barely keep from falling onto the mat. 

“Buck--” 

“Keep up.” 

You block another blow but get another in your other shoulder. You’re dizzy. Your arms are already aching and there’s a tightness in your lower back. You can only remember how he curved your spin earlier, pulling you back with his hand on your chin, contorting you to his pleasure. 

You hit him again. The combo has you breathless but he hums in approval. 

“That’s it. Faster, faster.” 

You do as he says, carried away in your frustration and resent. Feeding on it. Drawing strength from it. 

When he moves the pads again, you’re ready. You swerve around his first strike, then the next, then a pinch catches in your back, just behind your ribs, and you cry out. Your muscles spasm as you bend and press the glove to your side. 

The pad bounces off your shoulder and sends you hurtling to the ground. You wheeze and writhe as your body protests.  

“Shit,” Bucky hisses as he drops his hands and stands over you. “Doll, you okay? I didn’t expect you to bend over.” 

“Ah-ah-ah,” you roll back and forth in agony. “My back. My back.” 

“Doll,” he drops onto his knee and tears the pads of his hands. “You must’ve pulled something. But you were moving good--” 

“I told you—I told you--” you snarl. “I wasn’t done stretching—Shit. Shit. Shit.” 

“You’re blaming me?” He grimaces. “Hey, hey, stop,” he grabs your arm and stills you. “You’re only going to make it worse.” 

“I just... I’m out of shape. I need t-time--” you nearly sob. In pain, in shame. You’re humiliated. It turned out exactly as you expected it. “God.” You go slack and close your eyes. “Why can’t you just---” 

You go silent and wallow in your despair. He squeezes your arm.  

“Why can’t I what?” He growls. 

You open your eyes and look at him. “Why can’t you just listen to me?” 

He nostrils flare and his eyes narrow. “Listen? I’ve been trying to get you to fucking talk--” 

“Bucky, please, just... I don’t want to argue anymore.” 

He nods and his cheeks dimple. He clicks his tongue and shifts to scoop you up in his arms. As he does, you whine. 

“Fine. Let’s go home then.” He sneers as he carries you across the mat.  

[letstalkaboutfandomsbaby]

╔══•.·.☆.·.♥︎.·.☆.·.•══╗

buff guy

╚══•.·.☆.·.♥︎.·.☆.·.•══╝

ʚ Part 6 ɞ

❥ CW: chubby fem reader x buff guy, third date!, reader goes to the gym, fluff, sexual innuendo

❥ A/N: I'll be going back to work this week so the parts may slow down a bit, just a heads up!

You wake up around nine thirty on Saturday morning, but you scroll on your phone in bed until ten. You get up, start your coffee as you get dressed. You pull out a three-piece workout outfit you bought online a couple months ago but have only worn a couple of times. It's in your favorite color, leggings and a sports bra with a cropped jacket, all the same pattern. You put it on, admiring your form in the mirror. You rearrange your breasts in the mirror so that they're pushed together more, and you zip up the jacket to under your chest, giving a perfect view of your cleavage.

You briefly wonder why you're doing this, but you know why.

You have a small coffee as you wait, scrolling through your phone until there's a knock at your door.

"Just a sec!" you yell, filling your coffee cup with water and leaving it in the sink. You grab your water bottle, slipping on your gym shoes before opening the door. "Hi!"

"Hey." He's wearing sweatpants and a baggy hoodie. His eyes glance up and down your form. "You look nice."

"You like it?" you ask, looking down at your outfit before giving a pose. He smiles softly.

"Yeah. It looks good on you." He reaches out but pauses, drawing his hand back. "Can... may I make a small adjustment?"

"Oh? To my outfit?" He nods. "Uh... sure."

He grunts, reaching forward and grabbing the zipper on your jacket, pulling it up until it reaches your collarbones. He pulls away, nodding.

"Better. You ready?"

You glance down at your now covered chest, then back at him.

"Uh, sure. I'm ready." He hums, then glances down at your feet.

"Your shoes are untied." You look down at them with him.

"Yeah, I know. I'll tie them when I get to the gym."

"Let me."

"I—"

He's already down on one knee, fiddling with your shoe laces. He ties them for you, not too tight, just snug enough that it's comfortable. He moves on to the other shoe and does the same. When he's done, he pulls back, admiring his work. He nods and stands, when you jab a finger into his chest.

"Stop doing whatever you want to me without asking."

"What?"

"You keep doing stuff without asking me how I would feel. Picking me up, tying my shoes. I get that you want to be a gentleman, but you need to ask me if I'm okay with you doing these things before you do them, okay? We still don't know each other that well yet, so you can't be doing whatever you want to me, got it?"

He slumps a bit, but nods.

"Okay. I'm sorry for doing those things without your permission."

"I forgive you. Just ask me next time, okay?" He nods again.

"Okay."

You tug at your jacket, closing your apartment door behind you.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

The gym he goes to is clearly more advanced than your gym. Your gym is full of casual exercisers, people who don't make the gym their life. Here, the gym seems to be the only thing that matters in these peoples' lives. The men are so muscular here, and the few women that there are have sculpted bodies. You imagine them all to be gym influencers on social media.

"What do you want to do?" he asks, hands in his hoodie pocket.

"Oh, um..." You glance around the gym, thinking. "Well, I like to do cardio before I lift weights, so I guess I'll go on the treadmill for a bit before using the machines."

"I'll join you," he offers, already guiding you to the treadmills.

"Oh! You don't have to! You can go do your own workout if you want."

"I invited you to the gym so I could work out with you, not alone." He steps up on a treadmill, holding out his hand for you. You take it, his hand keeping you steady as you get up on the treadmill next to his. "There's no point in coming here together if we don't work out together."

"Alright, alright. If you really want to work out together, we can." His hand is still holding yours. His thumb runs along the back of your hand for a moment, but before you can ask him what's wrong, he pulls his hand away, turning the treadmill on.

You prep yourself with some light stretches before you turn the machine on as well. You start slow, letting your heart rate build up before you get into a fast walk. You glance at Guy, who is walking at a faster speed. You chalk it up to him having longer legs and a longer stride than you, so you don't fret about it.

It's not until he starts running beside you that you become competitive. He bumps up the speed on the treadmill and falls into a jog. His speed is fast, but he makes it look so easy, like this is just a warm up for him. You huff, increasing the speed on your treadmill to match his, just to show him that he's not the only one who can do that.

It doesn't work out well. You sprint for twenty to thirty seconds before you're decreasing the speed again, huffing and puffing. You slow down to a walk again, catching your breath, and this asshole is still running without panting at all. It was slowly pissing you off, but you reminded yourself that your levels of fitness were different and that you shouldn't feel bad about the level you were at. You were still strong and healthy, and that's all that should matter.

Twenty minutes pass when you turn off the machine. He turns his off soon after, slowing to a jog and then a walk before stopping altogether. You make eye contact as you sip some water.

"What would you like to do next?" You hum.

"Weightlifting, but I'm not familiar with your gym." He points off into the distance.

"There's some Smith machines over by the free weights. We could do that if you want." You shrug.

"Sure, sounds good."

He leads you over to the machines he suggested, a bit more pep in his step. Maybe running gave him some more energy.

He goes to an end machine, next to the free weight benches, before turning to you.

"We could alternate between the two," he points to the free weights and the Smith machine. "You could be on one and I could be on another. Or I could spot you, if you'd like."

"Oh, I don't need a spotter," you wave him off. "I'm not gonna do anything crazy, but thank you for offering." He nods, waiting. You glance at the equipment before stepping towards the Smith machine. "I guess I'll start here."

"Alright. I'll pull a bench closer so we can work out next to each other."

"Okay," you reply, putting your water bottle down on the floor so you could set up. You raised the bar until it was shoulder height, moving to one side and adding some weight before adding that same amount of weight to the other side. You move back to the center of the bar, glancing over to see Guy place two large weights on a bench right beside your machine. You briefly wonder how much they weigh before you position yourself for squats.

You don't push yourself too hard. You do what you're used to, four sets of ten reps, increasing the weight by five or ten pounds once or twice to challenge yourself. You can feel eyes staring at you, but every time you glance over at Guy, he's looking away. You feel like you're going crazy as you reset the bar and take off the weights.

You opt for hip thrusts next, grabbing a foam bar to put over the metal bar you're using. You rearrange a nearby bench to sit in front of the bar, getting down on the ground after adding weights to the machine. You do some hip thrusts, four sets of ten again, only getting up once to add ten pounds to the bar. You can feel the strain in your ass when you're done, panting slightly after your last set. When you're finished, Guy shows up at your side.

"Can we trade for a bit?" he asks. You nod.

"Sure," you say, just a little bit breathless. You get up and move out of the way, letting him change the weights on the machine. You go to the bench he was using, taking your water bottle with you. You glance at the size of the weights he was using.

"One hundred pounds?!" you whisper in disbelief, glancing back at him. He's still adding weights to the bar. You swallow hard, humbly grabbing the five pound weights before returning to the bench.

You do some basic arm exercises: bicep curls, tricep extensions, just a couple you can think of. All the while, Guy has been doing hip thrusts and glancing at you every minute or so. You try to ignore him, to focus on your own workout, but his stare is so intense sometimes that you can't focus. He eventually finishes, getting up and stretching a bit. He walks towards you, leaning down.

"I'm going to run to the restroom really quick. You can have the machine back, if you want."

"Oh, okay. Thank you." He nods, walking away. You return your five pound weights and look at the weights he put on the Smith machine. You add up the weights together, slowly realizing that he was working out with more weight than you held on your entire body. You marvel at the idea of him being so strong before slowly removing each of the weights, putting them back in their proper place.

You decide to do dead lifts, adding weight to the bar before positioning yourself in front of it. You start your dead lifts, watching yourself in the wall-length mirror. You notice Guy show up when you're halfway through your routine, slowly approaching you. He's watching you, staring at you, more specifically at your lower half as you bend over. You finish your set, processing that he'd been staring at your ass the last couple of minutes of your workout. You reset the bar, turning around to face him, hands on your hips.

"You good?" you ask, a bit of sass in your tone. His eyes widen and dart away, his hand rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah, I'm good. I was just, um, going to see what else you wanted to do." You shrug.

"I'm pretty much done. You can keep going and I can just watch, if you want." He clears his throat.

"I just wanted to do one last exercise on the Smith before we go."

"Okay." You step out of the way, holding out your hands and presenting the machine to him. He smiles, moving to change the weights on the machine. You stand to the side with your water bottle, watching him add weights, adding them up in your head. He's added your body weight to the machine plus thirty more pounds. He moves the bench, laying down on it before grabbing the bar, preparing to do a bench press. You watch in amazement and almost horror as he bench presses your weight and then some on the Smith machine. Your eyes are wide as you stare at him moving up and down smoothly, barely straining under the weight. You glanced around to see other people in the gym staring at him, especially the women. A couple giggle and whisper to each other as they look at him, probably talking about how hot he is or something like that. You feel a tad bit embarrassed. What were you doing with a man like this? He was so much more competent in the gym than you were; it was a wonder that he wanted to work out with you at all. Maybe he regretted it, you wondered as he finished his last set, resetting the bar and sitting up. You glance at him in the mirror, and he's staring at you intensely, eyes dark.

"I'm... gonna go fill up my water bottle real quick," you say, turning on your heel and walking to the water fountains.

You unzip your jacket, feeling hot as you fill up your water bottle. You pondered your relationship with Guy, if it would last, if it was even worth it as your water bottle filled up.

"Hey," you hear beside you and you stop filling your water bottle, glancing at the man that had approached you. He was tall, not as tall as Guy, but he still towered over you. He wasn't as buff as Guy either, but he still looked very strong. "I like your outfit."

You glanced down at yourself before giving him a smile.

"Oh, thank you! I got it online."

"It suits you well." He leans against the wall, smirking at you. "I've never seen you around here before; are you new?"

"Oh, yeah, kind of. I've never been here before."

"Well, welcome." He holds out his hand. "I'm Josh." You hesitantly take his hand and shake it.

"I'm Y/N."

"Nice to meet you, Y/N." He pulls his hand away but still lingers. "You know, if we come to the gym at the same time, I could be your workout buddy. I could spot you and help you train."

"Oh! No, that's not necessary. I don't need a spotter."

"You don't? That sucks. I'd love to help you workout sometime."

You're about to ask him why when a large arm impedes on the space between you and this stranger, palm hitting the wall and making Josh jolt. You look up to see Guy, who is glaring daggers at the man you just met.

"Oh! Hey dude, I didn't know you were here today. You just get here, or...?"

"No," he grumbles, turning to you. He whispers a 'sorry' before zipping your jacket up again, covering your cleavage. He grabs your hand, turning to glare again at Josh. "We were leaving."

"Oh," he says, glancing between the two of you before raising his eyebrows. "Oooh. Got it, my bad dude, I didn't know she was off limits." He takes a step back but waves at you. "Nice to meet you, Y/N. Have a good day."

"What was that about?" you ask as Josh jogs off.

"Just an asshole that has no business talking to you." He looks back at you, his expression softening. "Would you like to get lunch now?"

You blink, giving a small shrug.

"Sure, we can."

"Are you mad at me?" Guy asks as you sit down with your food. You furrow your brow, taking a sip of your drink.

"No. Why would you think that?"

"Well, ever since we finished at the gym, you've been quiet. Was it because I zipped up your jacket again without asking you? Because I—"

"Guy." He stops, closing his mouth. "I'm not mad at you. I just... was thinking."

"About what?" he asks, taking a huge bite of his sandwich. You stare at your food, pouting before looking up at him.

"Don't scold me," you mumble. He shakes his head and you sigh. "I saw you lifting those weights earlier and I just felt so inadequate. I mean, there's plenty of other women more fit than I am, beautiful women with great personalities and perfect boobs and I just—"

"Stop." He puts his sandwich down, chewing the last bite before swallowing. "I don't want a woman like that. I want you. That's why I'm courting you; that's why I asked you to be my girlfriend. I want you, Y/N, nobody else. I want you because of who you are now, not who you could be. Okay?"

You curl into yourself, feeling your cheeks burn.

"Okay." You squirm a little. "I'm sorry for needing so much reassurance. You'll probably get annoyed with me, huh?"

"I can't promise that I'll never get annoyed with you, because anything is possible, but I promise I will never leave you or dislike you even if I'm annoyed." You swallow.

"Are you annoyed now?"

"No." He grabs his sandwich again, bringing it to his lips. "I honestly can't imagine ever being annoyed with you, but I suppose anything can happen."

"What would make you annoyed with me?" He shrugs after taking another bite of his sandwich.

"Maybe if you started dieting to lose weight, or if you broke up with me just because you thought I deserved someone different. Those things would bother me quite a bit."

You nod in understanding, sipping your drink again.

"What could I do that annoys you?" he asks. You hum.

"Well, if you try to control me, or tell me what to do when I didn't ask for your input. If you made mean comments about me or my body. If you did stuff like that, I would break up with you." He nods.

"I wasn't planning on doing any of that, but I'll keep that in mind." His shoe taps yours. "Don't let your sandwich get cold."

"I won't," you huff, sticking your tongue out. He chuckles as you grab your sandwich and take a bite, moaning happily. "Oh my god, it's so good."

"It is, isn't it? I love this place."

"How did you find it?"

"I was just looking for somewhere to eat for lunch one day and stumbled upon it. Now I come here pretty regularly."

"I can see why. This is delicious!"

He smiles, taking another bite. The both of you eat in silence for a little while.

"So," you begin, putting down your half-eaten sandwich and wiping your hands on a napkin, "what was the deal with that Josh guy? Do you hate him or something?"

He groans, rolling his eyes.

"I'm not fond of him. He's a huge flirt with all the women at the gym, and he ghosts them after he fucks them."

"How do you know all of this?"

"Because he brags about it to all the guys who will listen. He brags about sleeping with women at the gym and then never texting them back. He's an asshole." He takes another bite of his sandwich, huffing. "I don't want you exposed to a guy like that." You hum.

"And why did you zip up my jacket all day?"

He pauses as he goes in for another bite, glancing up at you. He closes his mouth, swallowing hard, glancing down at your chest before looking back in your eyes.

"I didn't want people to look at you." You raise your eyebrow.

"You mean my chest?" He hesitates but nods. You nod slowly. "I see. So you didn't want people looking at my titties?" He scoffs, coughing for a moment, covering his mouth.

"I guess, if you wanna say it like that." You smile, humming. You twist your mouth, reach for your zipper and slowly pull it down, exposing your cleavage. His eyes widen, flicking down to your chest and back to your face. He glances around the restaurant and you giggle.

"Nobody is looking but you, dingus. Nobody else cares."

"That's what you think. I've seen the way people look at you."

"Oh, really?" You take another bite of your sandwich as he nods. "And how do they look at me?"

"Like they wanna fuck you." You shake your head as he takes his last bite, picking up stray ingredients on his plate and eating them.

"You're crazy. Nobody wants to fuck me but you."

"If you can't see it, then you're blind." You scoff.

"Rude. The only person people were looking at today was you when you lifted all those weights." He scrunched up his face, shaking his head.

"Nobody was looking at me."

"Yes, they were. There were a couple of guys and girls looking at you. Bet the girls were thinking about asking for your number."

"Well, I wasn't paying attention to them, so they don't matter. All I was thinking about was you." You take another bite of your sandwich.

"Is that why you were lifting weights heavier than me?" you asked.

"Ah. So you did notice."

"Yeah, I did. What was that all about?" He wipes his mouth with a napkin, sighing deep.

"I wanted to impress you." You nod slowly, swallowing your food.

"Well, I was thoroughly impressed. And horrified. I thought the weights were gonna crush you."

"I wouldn't let that happen. I'm too strong."

"Yeah, no shit. I've seen that several times."

"Well..." He scratches at a spot on the table, not looking at you. "I wanted you to see it again."

You sigh, glancing at your sandwich.

"I was very impressed," you continue. "But I already knew you were strong when you picked me up at our last date."

"I know. But that was only temporary because you didn't like it. I wanted to show you that I could hold your weight for longer."

You hum, taking another bite.

"Then why did you use my weight for the hip thrusts?" you ask, glancing at him. You see him squirm in his seat, scratching at his jawline, avoiding eye contact. You squint at him, thinking, before your eyes widen and your mouth falls open.

"Oh my god. Oh my god!" You gasp, covering your mouth to hide your shocked smile. "Guy, you—oh my god, are you kidding me?!"

"I wanted to impress you," he whispered harshly, still not looking at you. You reach across the table and playfully slap his bicep.

"You bad boy!" you tease, shaking your head. "I can't believe you. Doing hip thrusts to impress me? Oh, you're naughty."

"Don't tease me," he grumbles, pressing his forehead against the table and sighing loudly. "I feel stupid."

"You're not stupid. Don't say that."

"I'm embarrassed."

"You're cute." He turns his head to look up at you with puppy-dog eyes.

"You think I'm cute?"

"Yes. I've told you this before, you silly goose." You finish your sandwich as he sits up straight, taking a deep breath.

"Y/N."

"Yeah?"

"When I take you home, can I kiss you?" You choke on your last bite, covering your mouth with your hand and coughing. He reaches across the table for you, but you hold up a hand to stop him.

"You—hack—you want to kiss me?!" He nods, eyes locked on you. You shake your head and laugh lightly. "Well, at least you asked instead of just doing it.

He pulls up in front of your apartment, opening the door for you to get out. He walks you up the stairs.

"I really enjoyed today," he tells you sincerely. You smile at him.

"I really liked today, too. Thank you for inviting me."

"Of course." He stops when he reaches the door with you. "I'd love to do this again sometime, if you'd like."

"I'd like that." He returns your smile, staring at you. You lean on one foot, tilting your head. "So, I guess you want that kiss now, huh?"

"If that's okay."

You giggle, pulling on his hoodie, coaxing him to go down one step so that his face is closer to yours. You cup his cheeks with both hands, smiling sweetly at him.

"You ready, handsome?" He swallows, licking his lips.

"Yeah."

You sigh, leaning in and puckering your lips before pressing them gently against his. His mouth is receptive to yours, letting you mold against him and kiss him sweetly. Your lips push and pull for a moment, his large hands coming to rest on your wrists, holding your hands against him. You give him one last kiss before pulling away, smiling at him. His eyes slowly open, hazier than before.

"Thank you," he whispers, drunk off of your lips. You rest your forehead against his, staring into his eyes.

"Next time we'll use tongue," you whisper back. He chuckles, turning his head to kiss your palm.

"I don't know if I can handle that yet."

"We don't need to rush," you reassure him. "I like the pace we've been going at. I appreciate you letting me take the lead on most things."

"You're welcome."

You pull away, patting your hand against his chest.

"Can I call you tonight?" he asks.

"Of course." He smiles wide.

"Cool." He clears his throat, stepping down. He gives a small wave, which you return. "Bye."

"Bye, Guy."

He takes the steps two at a time, jumping down the last three and landing on the concrete. You giggle as he practically skips to his car, giving you one last wave before he gets in, driving off.

You enter your apartment, doing a little dance as you make your way to the bathroom for a shower.

[madi-is-kinda-cool]

⍟𝐢’𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐭⍟

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐱 𝐀𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐚 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞. 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐫��𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫, 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 (𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞), 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 (𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠), 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 (𝐧𝐨 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭), 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐛𝐚𝐭, 𝐢𝐟 𝐢 𝐚𝐦 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟏,𝟓𝟑𝟗

𝐀/𝐧: 𝐌𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✨𝐬𝐦𝐞𝐱𝐲✨ 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐚𝐫. 𝐄𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠💖💝

It was another one of those nights when your ruffled mind made a restless pillow. You lay in your bed staring at the ceiling, listening to the seconds tick on the clock. Frustrated, you rubbed your eyes before turning and looking at the time. 2:41 AM flashed in a dimmed red light on your nightstand. With a long groan, you get out of bed and change out of your sleepwear into a pair of black leggings and a sports bra. You figured that at this hour, the only thing you could do was train, as no one in the compound should be awake like you were tonight.

With your water bottle and a towel, you walk into the compound's training quarters with your favourite song blasting through your headphones. Placing your belongings on a nearby bench, you throw down a stretching mat in the middle of the room and begin your pre-workout stretch routine. Unbeknownst to you, a super soldier suffered from a restless sleep similar to yours that night. Since arriving at the compound two weeks ago, Bucky Barnes has had a hard time adjusting to his newfound "home." The lavish building with far more advanced technology than what he used to make him uneasy.

Like you, he leaves his room in gym attire and a water bottle, hoping that a late-night training session can put his mind on pause for a bit. As he walks in, he stops at the entrance for a second when he sees you warming up in the training room.

When you finally end your warmup stretch, you turn around and see the new addition to the team standing at the entrance, watching you analyse your movements. You take your headphones out and watch him carefully. You remember the day Steve introduced him to the team and how captivated you were by Bucky's natural beauty. You remembered how his eyes almost made you choke on your drink, how the eye contact he held with you took your breath away. You also remember how Steve told you that Barnes wasn't quite talkative.

"I didn't realise anyone would be up at this hour," you said as you approached him from your mat. He hummed in response as he briefly looked you up and down before looking around at the room itself. You catch on and leave his way before entering the room to collect your mat.

"I'm not sure if you have toured the building quite yet but as you can see this is the training quarters. You have everything from weights to a sparring ring to treadmills," you point at the equipment to emphasise your statement. He walks in with you, looking around with curiosity etched into his features. "Are you a workout alone or with a partner kind of guy?" I asked, turning back around to look at him.

He looks at you for a second. "Alone" he mumbled under his breath. You nod at his response and walk over to the punching bags to get some reps in.

After some time, you sit on the bench with your belongings and take a break from your workout. Looking around, you see Bucky at the weight station across the room. He is bench pressing all the weights that were able to fit on his barbell (which appeared to be at least 600 pounds) like it was nothing.

You become lost in thought watching him, your mind wandering to places where they shouldn't travel. You watch as the plates of his metal arm shift and the veins of his flesh arm rise to the surface at every rep, thinking about how thick and massive they are compared to you. I wonder how his arms would feel around my body. You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head. Where the hell was your mind going? You must be exhausted, you think to yourself.

When you open your eyes and look back at him, you see that he is watching you now. You quickly look away, flustered, thinking about how he must have caught you giving googly eyes to him. You shake it off and tell yourself that he probably wasn't paying attention.

"Umm, Y/n, that was your name, right?" you hear him say a couple of feet away from you now. You stand to address him only to realise how massive he actually is. He is towering over you with at least a head length on you. "Y-yes, that's me. How can I help you?" you stutter a response.

"Is it alright if you spar with me for a bit?" he mutters. If not, I completely understand. I know that I am way more physically advanced than the average person, but—" he rushes his statement out timidly.

"Of course, there's no need to worry about your abilities. You haven't seen what I can do yet," you say teasingly as you walk past him into the sparring ring and wait for him to join you. He hesitantly walks into the ring with you. How about we start off light and ask each other questions to get to know each other? Does that sound alright?" you suggest in hopes of breaking him out of his shell.

He nods once before shaking your hand to signal that he is ready. The two of you circle momentarily, studying each other's movements. You are quick to throw the first punch that Bucky blocks. "So, what do you like to do for fun?" you ask, blocking a kick thrown at you. "Read. I like to read," he grunts as he retracts his leg. "What do you like to do?" he shot the same question back at you. "I like to think I'm good at cooking, but I almost burnt the building last month." You laugh as you punch and kick at him.

He blocks your attack and lands a kick to the side, sending you stumbling back. You straighten up and charge him with a tornado kick that lands and brings him to one knee. From his position on the floor, he grabs your ankle and pulls your leg out from under you. You fall on your stomach and get pinned by his knee resting on your back. You tap out, and he releases you instantly. You both pop up from the floor and catch your breath. You watch him momentarily, "Do you train often?" you question.

"Every night, usually," he retorts. You shake hands once again and begin sparring again. After a couple of minutes of fighting, he pins you on your stomach again. This time, he has your arms held behind your back as he straddles the back of your thighs. Both of you are sitting like that momentarily, not caring to move. That is until he finally leans down, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. "Do you always eye fuck your teammates when they are working out?" he whispers into your ear. You pause and hold your breath is shock. He saw me earlier, he actually caught me gaping at him and all his glory.

Out of a sudden confidence rush, you turn your head to the side to try and get a glimpse of his face. "Only if they look like you…" you retaliated in hopes that was the answer he wanted. When he doesn't move from his spot, you start to panic, thinking maybe your response was inappropriate. Right as you're about to apologise, he flips you over and pins your wrists about your head, his face only an inch from yours.

"Is that so?" he husked out as he stared directly into your eyes. "Do I make you all hot and bothered?" You nod your head in response while keeping direct eye contact.

"I saw how you looked at me when I first arrived, I saw how your body reacted when I first locked eyes with you. I felt the same thing when I say you. Prettiest little thing I've ever laid my eyes on," he whispers as he dips his head into your neck. "Almost crumpled where I stood watching you stretch on that mat earlier. Made me wanna do things that I shouldn't say out loud. Had me thinking so many dirty thoughts," he releases your wrists and places his hands on each side of your head.

In a fit of adrenalin, you flip the both of you over. Now he is laying on his back in the ring with you straddling his waist, holding yourself up with your hands on his broad chest. "You going to act on those dirty thoughts?" you ask teasingly with a smirk.

"If you'll let me…" he retorts as he sits up on his elbows to try and connect his lips to yours in a kiss. Quickly you pop up and walk out of the ring. Bucky sits up confused and follows you to where your belongings are.

"Wait, where are you going?!" he asks panicked, hoping he didn't cross a boundary. As you walk to the entrance, you turn around right before you walk out. "Take me on a date first, then I'll hold you to it," you say with a smirk before walking out, leaving Bucky alone in the training quarters.

[universefcb]

hii cutie, can you do a pau cubarsi x reader where she’s really clumsy but he still wants to teach her how to play football and they have a cute date.

Love in two touches

Pairing: Pau Cubarsí X girl!reader

Summary: You've been friends for a few months and he decides to teach you how to play soccer, but you're very clumsy.

Warning: Just Cubarsí being the most adorable boy in the world :<3

Author's note: Cubarsí seems to be the most patient and calm person!

And sorry if there are mistakes, English is not my language.I hope this is what you asked for!

You had already accepted that sports weren’t your thing. Track and field? No way. Swimming? Only as a float. Soccer? As confusing as advanced algebra. And yet, there you were, walking towards the neighborhood soccer field feeling like you were going to make a fool of yourself—again.

The idea came from Pau. Ever since he found out that you had never really kicked a ball, he made it his personal mission. According to him, it was "unacceptable to live in Barcelona and not know how to pass." You thought it was crazy. But when Pau called you that morning with that excited voice, you didn't have the heart to refuse.

“I’m here!” You announced, breathless, entering the field with clumsy steps and a small bottle of water that you had already dropped twice on the way.

Pau looked up from his phone and laughed when he saw you. He was leaning against one of the goalposts, wearing a light shirt, sports shorts, and cleats on his feet. The ball rested between his ankles, as if it belonged there.

“Did you bring… these?” he asked with a smirk, pointing to his sneakers. Baby pink, glittery on the sides, and more appropriate for a walk in the mall than a workout on the field.

“They’re stylish,” you replied, trying to maintain your dignity. “And they fit my unpretentious athletic vibe.”

“You’re going to slip on the second step. But that’s okay,” he said, already walking towards her with the ball at his feet. “Let’s start from scratch.”

"What it means?"

“I'm going to pretend you didn't confuse a throw-in with a corner last week.”

You smiled and shrugged. Pau positioned the ball between the two of you and began to explain.

“First: foot position. Supporting foot on the side of the ball, parallel. Other foot comes to kick. You aim with your body, not just with your foot. Got it?”

You looked at him, confused.

“More or less. I think I’ll need a demonstration.”

“Come here,” he positioned himself behind you, holding your arms lightly. “Relax. Lower your knee a little... That’s it. Support foot here. Now, lean your body slightly forward. That’s it. Now kick, lightly.”

You did as he said, and... kicked it. The ball rolled three meters, very slowly, but it was a kick!

“I kicked!” you exclaimed, surprised.

“You guessed it,” he confirmed, smiling. “A miracle witnessed live.”

You reached out to pat him, but tripped over your own leg. Pau caught you before you fell face first, holding your waist tightly.

“Calm down, clumsy,” he said, chuckling softly. “I said easy, not deadly.”

With your face hot, you pulled away a little, laughing at yourself. But Pau seemed more delighted than amused. He helped you up and started the class again, with patience, laughter and looks that lasted a little longer than necessary.

You practiced kicking, passing, and controlling the ball. You made a lot of mistakes. Sometimes the ball would hit your ankle, sometimes you wouldn’t even hit it. But Pau never complained. He would correct you gently, praise your attempts, and always celebrate the small victories. When you finally managed to stop the ball with your foot instead of letting it go straight through, he even raised his arms as if he had won the Champions League.

After almost an hour, you both lay down on the grass to rest. The sun was already starting to set, dyeing the sky golden. You looked at him, who was staring at the sky as if he was at peace.

"Pau?"

“Hm?”

“Why did you want to teach me football again?”

He turned to face you, resting his elbow on the floor and tilting his head.

“Because it’s an excuse to spend more time with you,” he said simply. “And also because I like to see you trying. Even when you stumble. Even when the ball hits you in the face. Even when you run looking at the ground, as if the grass is going to attack you.”

You laughed, pushing his shoulder affectionately.

“Is this what you call charm?”

“No, that’s what I call sincerity.”

Silence fell for a comfortable second between you. The sun reflected in his eyes, and you noticed that he was closer than you thought. Pau noticed it too. But he didn't say anything. He just smiled slightly, his eyes fixed on yours.

“If you don’t mind the idea…” he began hesitantly, “I wanted to ask you out on a real date. No balls. Just me, you, and… maybe a milkshake. Or pizza. Or both.”

You smiled, heart beating fast.

“Can I spill the milkshake on your lap?”

“If you promise to smile afterwards, you can.”

“Then I guess we have a date.”

Pau held out his pinky to you, and you intertwined yours with his.

“Promise not to give up on teaching me football?”

“I promise. But only if you promise to continue being the most clumsy and charming girl I know.”

You nodded, feeling the world spin slowly, the way love does when it arrives unannounced.

Taglist: @paucubarsisimp @nngkay @meganesanchez @bymerinott @htpssgavi @luvvpedri @moonvr @joaosnovia @httpsdana @ilovebarcaaaa @p4uul0vr

[somanyratsinthewalls]

Yellow- Sanji PROMPTS! "Show me how to touch you." "You're so wet, for me, love?"

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x Female Reader

Summary: Sanji is so into you until he's not. It pisses you the fuck off. What is his deal?

WC: 3200

Content Warnings: WEIRD COMMUNICATION ISSUES! I promise Sanji isn’t manipulative, she was def into him from the jump. P IN V SEX! Unprotected sex, oral sex, dirty talk and praise.

Tag List: @dreamcastgirl99 This one is for you too :)

— — 

From the day you met the Straw Hat Pirates, you knew that Sanji was a flirt. 

Okay… maybe that was a bit under-stated…

He was a desperate, horny, hopelessly romantic, slightly-perverted-yet-chivalrous sap of a man. 

He wasn’t your type and you were too cruel to lead him on so you set him straight very quickly after you joined Luffy’s crew on the high seas. You were always fast to shoot him down on his every attempt to shower you in affection every time you wore a low cut top. 

“Y/n! You look absolutely breathtaking this afternoon, is that a new blouse? The color really compliments your eyes. Can I get you something to eat? A drink, perhaps?” Sanji would fuss and fawn over you, much to your annoyance. 

“Down boy, I have no interest in getting your drool on my shirt. Buzz off, respectfully.” You gave Sanji a warning glare while pushing past him to join the other ladies to lounge underneath the tangerine trees. 

— — 

You had never had a problem rejecting Sanji’s advances until the time he caught you alone in the kitchen one morning. 

You had woken up before dawn naturally and couldn’t fall back asleep so you decided to get a quick workout in up in the crow’s nest before Zoro was awake to fill the space with his crass behavior and signature musk. You throw on a plain black pair of leggings with a sports bra and some sneakers, then toss your hair up in a high ponytail. You set off from your room and headed up to the crow’s nest as the sun was starting to make its sleepy ascent into the starlit sky. 

After you finished working out, you wiped the sweat off your skin with a towel and throw it over your shoulder to head to the galley. Daylight had broken but it was still quite early. You could only hear the call of the gulls and the soft crash of waves against the sides of the ship. 

You enter the galley and find it quiet and empty. You trot softly towards the cabinets and pull down a glass. You open the fridge and pull out the carafe of water to pour yourself a glass. After stowing the carafe you bring the glass to your lips and take several deep gulps. You finally finish the cup and grab the towel on your shoulder to wipe any water or remaining sweat from your face. As you ruffle your face in the towel you hear the galley door swing open. 

“Oh, y/n! Good morning! I didn’t expect anyone up this early.” 

Your nose was filled with the scent of strong cologne and menthol cigarettes. 

You look up, towel in hand. 

“Hey Sanji. Sorry, didn’t mean to spook you, I just couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d get a workout in before Zoro stinks up the place with his gross pits.” You respond with a soft, mischievous smile. 

Sanji chuckles. 

“You’d think he was allergic to soap.” Sanji starts preparing breakfast by grabbing some pots from the hanger and the pot holders from the counter. “Hey I heard the island we’re hitting soon is super famous for their seafood. I was thinking we could try and find a nice restaurant when we get there!” Sanji cranes his head up for a moment to look at you while he chops a bunch of spring onions. 

“Yeah that sounds good, I’m down. It’ll give you a chance to sit down and eat for once.” You say and toss your sweat towel back over your shoulder. “And I’m sure Luffy and Zoro wouldn’t object to going anywhere with food and booze.” You laugh and move to head back to your room. 

“Oh, no, I was actually thinking just you and I could go.” Sanji says, seasoning the scrambled eggs he was deftly cooking on the stove. “You know, like a date?” 

His words didn’t carry the lilting, dreamy tone that they usually did when he fawned over you in front of the other crew members. They lacked the silly, dramatic intonation that they had when he complimented Nami’s bikini or Robin’s new haircut. Why was he so… casual?

You turn back around on your heels. You cock your head. 

“You’re… asking me… on a date?” You say with a raised eyebrow. 

“Yes.” Sanji looks up from his cooking and smiles at you shyly. 

“…A real date?” You question further. 

“Yes.” He says with a breathy chuckle. 

“… Why?” You narrow your eyes in confusion. 

“Well, because I like you.” Sanji smiles and turns the stove off. He takes a step towards you and leans his hip up against the counter. You meet his eyes… “I really, like you actually. And I’d like to take you out on a proper date. So… what do you say?” He says with raised, curly eyebrows. 

“No.” You respond immediately. 

There was a silence. 

Sanji smiles again.

“Alright.” He turns the oven on and continues to prepare the crew’s breakfast. 

You were not expecting to be met with that answer. You were shocked. He didn’t prod, protest, plead… anything at all! He simply accepted your rejection and is now toasting bread like nothing happened? You turn back and head towards the door to return to your room but your curiosity got the better of you. You whip back around. 

“What do you mean, ‘alright’?” You ask with furrowed brows and a confused tilt of your head. 

“I mean, ‘alright’, as in ‘it’s alright you don’t want to go on a date with me.’” Sanji laughs a bit. “Sorry y/n I guess I should have made it more clear! Do you want a cup of coffee before you go?”

“I guess I just.. never mind. No thanks, Sanji. I’m going to try and go back to sleep for another hour or so.” You reply. 

“Ah, well sweet dreams, then!” He gives you a friendly nod and you return it before you finally make it out of the galley. Once you get back to your room, you hopped into bed and shoved Sanji’s weird proposition out of your mind. 

— — 

3 Days Later 

— — 

You came back from exploring the island ready to grab your towel and head to the bathroom to wash-up for bed. You flop your sword onto the armchair by your bedroom door and strip yourself of your dirt and blood stained clothing, tossing it into a pile on the floor. 

As you turn to pick up a towel from the hanger on your closet door, you notice something foreign on your vanity, something you haven’t noticed before…

It was a blue vase filled with yellow daisies… your favorite flower. 

The sleek, trim blue vase with the protrusion of fluffy flowers at the top couldn’t help but jog your memory of a certain someone… 

Sanji must have left these for you. 

That fucking love-sick moron… But you were too tired to care or form a thought about his romantic gesture. 

You wrap a towel around your tired body and head to the bathroom to shower. You push open the wooden door to the bathrooms expecting to be alone, but jump when you see a shirtless blonde man at the counter brushing his teeth. 

“Mmph?”

He sucks in water from the tap and swirls it around his mouth. 

“I’m not going to date you.” You state plainly. 

Sanji spits the water into the sink. 

“I know.” He reaches for a washcloth to wipe his mouth. 

“Then why are you leaving flowers in my room?” You ask, accusatorially. 

“Because I like you. I like doing things for you.” Sanji smiles at you and throws a white cotton shirt over his head and moves to exit the bathroom to give you your privacy. “I don’t need an anterior motive.”

“But I told you I will literally never be with you… ever… So this is pointless.” You scowl and cross your arms. 

“Okay.” Sanji replies with an even brighter smile. “Sleep well, Y/n, it was a long day.” 

Sanji brushes past you politely and exits the bathroom. 

“I-“ 

Before you could respond, you were alone. 

— — 

You were laid on a beach chair in between your two best friends catching some rays on the deck of the bow of the Sunny. Robin was nose deep in a textbook while Nami slathered sunscreen across her porcelain skin. 

You sit up. 

“Can I ask you guys something?” You inquire, pulling your sunglasses up over your head. 

“What’s up?” Nami responds. 

“Has Sanji ever asked you out on a date?” You ask. 

“Are you kidding me, y/n? All he does is tell me how beautiful and rapturous I am… that’s just how he is. You haven’t seriously just noticed this now, have you?!” Nami laughs back at you. 

“No no… I mean has he ever like, asked you to dinner? Drinks? Alone?” You press further. “Like, a real date?”

Robin closes her book. 

“You know, now that you mention it, no.” He looks in your direction, her blue eyes showing some sort of curiosity. “I thought it was because he knows I’m spoken for… what about you, Nami? You’re very single, has he asked you out?”

“I mean, no I guess not…” Nami responds. “Why do you ask?” 

“Well…. He asked me out.. on a date… a week or so ago…” You reply sheepishly. 

“That’s… odd…” Robin peruses the situation. 

— — 

4 Days Later 

— — 

“You’re being weird.” Nami’s shrill voice snaps you back to reality. 

“Hmm?” You respond, clearly not paying attention. 

“See? You were totally out of it during dinner. Are you feeling okay?” Nami presses further. “You seem… irritated.” 

“I… I don’t know…” You fumble for words. Sanji had made your favorite meal for dinner, and said nothing about it. He made no grand showing of trying to impress you, just simply laid out a three course meal of all of your favorite dishes and retreated back to the kitchen. “I think I’m just tired.” 

“Well, go to bed then.” Robin chimes in. “Who knows what tomorrow may bring.”

You glance towards the galley door before looking back at your friends. 

“I think I’m going to grab another drink, a nightcap. I’m not tired yet. I’ll see you girls in the morning.” You smile before heading off to the kitchen. What you didn’t notice was the knowing glances exchanged between Nami and Robin. 

You push the doors to the galley open, swiftly locking them behind you. 

“Oh y/n, can I get you more wine? I just-“ Sanji looks back at you from the sink. 

“What the hell are you doing?” You ask, angrily. 

“I’m not sure what you-“ 

“Leaving me flowers? Asking me out? Cooking my favorite things? I’ve already told you I won’t date you!” You shout, storming up to the cook. 

“I know.” 

“Then would you stop fucking trying to get me to go out with you?!” You ask, getting even more irate. 

“I asked you out, you said no, and I said alright. I haven’t brought it up since.” Sanji says while casually drying a plate from the sink. 

You were fuming. 

“Yeah okay?! But you-!” You stomp, frustrated, fist balled at your side. “And you just-! But you keep-!” You stomp again. “Ugh!” 

Sanji puts away the dishes and steps towards you, giving you his full attention as he tosses his dish rag against the side of the sink. 

“Y/n, is there something wrong?” He asked with a raised, curly eyebrow. 

“Yes!” You shout immediately. “You say you want me but you’ve left it at that! You haven’t asked again in days! If anything you’ve been avoiding me! All I get is extravagant meals and flower arrangements!” You huff out. 

There’s a silence. Sanji cocks his head. 

“So… I asked you out… you said no… and you’re upset that I respected your rejection?” The blonde cook asks, confused. “What exactly have I done wrong here?” 

“I… I don’t-“ You throw your hands down at your sides. “I don’t know!”

“Well…” Sanji steps towards you, mere inches away from each other now. “What did you want from me?”

You could smell the amber of his cologne and the remnants of nicotine from his suit jacket at this distance. You tried to form a response but his broad shoulders engulfed your smaller frame as he approached you and you felt dwarfed in comparison… 

“I…” 

“Tell me…” Sanji places a gently hand on your waist and pulls you into him. “Is this alright, y/n?” Sanji asks as he uses his other hand to tilt your chin up so you can meet his eye line. You chest was flush with his and your heart fluttered in your chest… oh my god you really wanted this, didn’t you? That’s why you came in here… you wanted him to prove it to you… 

“Yes…” You whisper, your lips so close to Sanji’s now, your eyelids hooded and dazed. 

Sanji wastes no time after your consent to press his mouth to yours. 

His lips are soft and gently as he moves them carefully agains yours, making sure to take note of which maneuvers make you gasp and cling to him further as you kiss. 

“Oh-!” You yelp as Sanji grips your waist and pulls you up to sit you on the kitchen counter. He remained standing as he pulled your sweatpants down and discarded them to the floor. Sanji’s nimble fingers play up your slit over your panties and he smiles against your lips. 

“So wet… for me, love?” He asks, feeling the wetness seeping through your cotton undergarments. 

“Y-yes…” You gasp out, so desperate to feel more of his touch against your body. 

Sanji smirks and pulls your panties down to let them join your pants on the wooden floor of the kitchen.  He doesn’t even stand back up, Sanji kneels against the counter so that he’s face to face with your dripping sex. 

“So fucking gorgeous…” Sanji murmurs before he dives in between your legs. 

You yelp as you feel his expert tongue slither between your folds and find your clit with ease. Once he reaches your sensitive pearl with his wet muscle you moan out and grip his blonde locks with both hands. 

“Yes, there it is. Show me how to touch you…” He encourages you to guide him to help you reach your climax. 

“Oh my gods… Sanji…shit-“ You pull and yank on his hair, letting his goatee get saturated in your sticky fluids as he suckles on your clit. “Don’t stop, there-“ You keep bucking your pelvis up involuntarily into his hungry mouth. 

“Mph…… more baby… come on, give me more..” Sanji drunkenly slurs against your sex as he urges you to spill your release onto him. 

“Ah-!” You hit your peak as you push Sanji’s head further into you, relishing in the soft suckling of his supple lips and experienced tongue. Your cunt spasms and your slick coats Sanji’s face. 

You let your body relax for a few moments against the cold tile countertop before you feel yourself being lifted in Sanji’s strong arms. 

“Come here…” Sanji is suddenly laying you down on the dining room table, the perfect height for him to strip his clothing and feel his naked body against yours. He leans over you and you claw your nails down his chest. 

Sanji presses his lips to yours, sinking his tongue into your mouth and exploring it like he’d never get the chance to again. You moan loudly in response. 

You feel the hot, leaking tip of Sanji’s thick cock prodding at your weeping entrance. You whimper. 

“Please, I want it…” You whisper to the blonde man hovering over you. “Fuck me.” You grip the hairs at the back of Sanji’s neck tightly. 

He presses into you, the two of you groan in unison. 

Sanji’s arm holds him up against the dining table and he uses the other to grip your hip, pushing himself into you as far as he could possibly go… you squirm and whine as his tip kisses your cervix. 

“Sanjiiii-“ You whimper. 

“Yes… ma belle… tell me, how does it feel?” Sanji coos as he pulls out just enough to tease you. 

“S-so good! More!” You claw at your lover’s shoulders and jerk your hips upwards to goad him into fucking you harder. 

Sanji wordlessly replies to your plea by thrusting himself back into you with force. You smile stupidly. 

“Yes!” You cry out as his hips meet yours. “There!” You gasp and he nudges against the soft, gummy spot inside of you that makes your head spin. 

Sanji grips your hips with both hands and starts plowing hard into you, so hard that your tits begin to bounce as your body is thrown back and forth against the dining room table. 

“Ma ange, my sweetheart… how pretty you look like this…” Sanji coos as he brings a soft, un-marred hand up to your cheek to stroke it softly. “I can tell you’re about to cum… could you do that again for me?” He never falters in his thrusts as he brings his other hand to your center where his thumb caressed your clit gently. You feel yourself being coaxed back into another climax and let it wash over you.. 

“Fuck- Sanji!” You cry out and throw your head back as you cum for the second time this evening. 

“There it is, my love… so perfect…” 

You feel the grip on your waist tighten and notice Sanji’s breathing quicken. 

“Where-“ 

“Inside me.” 

“You’re su-“

“Need it!” You grip your nails into Sanji’s lower back and press him into you, encouraging him to fill you up. 

“Ah-!”

You feel hot ropes of spend hit your wet cavern and you sigh out in relief. You were satisfied from your orgasms, but having Sanji fill you was the push you needed to enter complete bliss. 

Sweat drips from Sanij’s brow onto your chest as he recovers from his climax. 

You come to and wrap your arms around his neck to pull him close to you. 

“My darling…” Sanji says as he nuzzles the middle of your breasts. 

“Yes?” You respond, without thinking. 

Sanji leans back up, hiking you up in his arms in the process. You let out a yelp. 

“Dinner tomorrow night?” He asks, pushing your bangs from your sweaty forehead. 

You laugh. 

“Can you ask me when our clothes are back on?”

— — 

[billthedrake]

ORAL FIXATION (PART FOUR)

It was Dad's idea but I don't know why I hadn't thought of it. He didn't even bring it up with me in advance. Instead he sprung it one night at dinner.

"So..." Dad said to Mom as we ate. "Junior's gonna help me get in shape."

Mom laughed and looked over at me. "Is that so?"

I played dumb, like I knew what Dad was talking about. "Um, yeah."

"He's letting me tag along on his morning runs," Dad chimed in before I stumbled too much. "And we have a whole gym workout planned, too."

Mom seemed surprised and amused. Dad was a good looking guy with some solid muscle on him, but he spent a lot of time at work, and though he was on his feet most of the day, a doctor doesn't have the most active job.

She looked back and forth between me and Dad. "Well, good for you men," she said, smirking some.

***

I felt a little bad, because I had a good idea what Dad had on his mind. We were both up early the next morning, a little before dawn even. I'd seen Dad in his gym clothes before, but it had been a while, to be honest. But they showed off his hairy meaty legs as we did stretches in the driveway, feeling the cool morning air.

"Where you run to, son?" he asked.

I told him my route and the distance I normally did. We lived a half mile from a park with a nice trail system, so it gave me some variety. "We don't have to do the whole thing, Dad," I said, pulling back my heel to my glutes for that extra stretch, then the other leg. "Just let me know what you're feeling."

"I'm a little out of shape," he admitted. "But I'll keep up."

He did, too. Pretty well, though I knew my pace was faster than his. I slowed down some, but I had that teenage energy working for me. I looked over at him after a couple of miles, and he looked at me.

"Doing OK, Pop?" I asked.

He nodded, a little of breath. "Yeah, Junior."

Only his eyes were on me. Probing, and more than a little hungry. We were circling in the wooded area of the park, and had only passed two joggers so far. The way my father looked at me excited me and gave me a half-stiff dick even mid stride. "You want it, Dad?" I asked quietly.

"Um, yeah," he said, nodding excitedly.

We slowed our gait to a trot and a walk, then I followed as he led us into the woods and behind a larger tree.

I stood and pulled down my shorts as his fingers traced along my bare thighs, his eyes fixed eagerly on my crotch, awaiting his next meal.

Before that morning, I knew Dad was an incredible cocksucker, and I knew we had that forbidden-thrill bond of his blowjobs. But that day I realized just how much Dad needed my cum, how addicted he was to blowing me.

The tree bark was a little scratchy, but I leaned back to steady myself as Dad took me into his mouth. No foreplay really, just nice steady mouth strokes up and down, working extra length down his gullet as he got into it.

I got into it, too, cradling his head gently and silently coaxing him to work my load out. I could see the silver flecks in his brown hair. Respectable doctor on his knees for a hot no-recip incest blowjob.

"Yes," I hissed. I knew we had to be quiet, but I missed talking to Dad while he sucked me. But this was naughty and hot, and I knew we were both worked up. Dad let out his own soft moan around my cock as my dick spurted its first salvo of precum. It had taken only a minute and wouldn't be much longer for the full cum, given how horny I always am in the morning.

Dad worked me more rigorously, deep and with high suction. And doing something with his tongue. That did it. I curled my fingers in his hair and held tightly as I blasted hard. A good seven or eight spurts of his son's seed right into his craw and straight into his belly. Dad sucked it down gratefully.

He didn't belabor the aftershocks but gave my wet dick a gentle kiss as he pulled off, then looked up and winked at me. I could see he was erect when he stood up, but true to form he didn't make any move for reciprocation.

"Maybe that'll slow you down," he whispered with a laugh.

I pulled up my shorts and laughed back.

By the time we got back, Dad's hardon had gone down and I felt more ready for my day than ever. It was surprisingly matter of fact between us, even, as we did our cool-down stretches and talked about how the run was for Dad, what his goal was.

"Tomorrow, same time, buddy?" he asked, giving my shoulder a light punch as we walked into the kitchen to rehydrate.

I'd been in a conditioning phase for football but generally aimed for running every other day. But if Dad was gonna be my running buddy, I'd make it every day for sure.

***

We skipped some mornings, but I got used to the ritual. I was a horny jock, and it was just mindblowingly great to have a fatherly blowjob to start most days. Jake Gehring made a crack about me being in a good mood lately, but for some reason I wasn't sure I should share the development with my buddy. I'm not sure why.... Dad had sucked Jake a couple of times. Given my friend's moods when he showed up at school, I'm sure Mr. Gehring was giving him the same treatment.

I wasn't being greedy, honest, the escalation just kind of happened. Dad had drained me good and well on our morning run, but around 7 o'clock one evening, he knocked on my door and stepped in, barechested and wearing just a pair of shorts. God, he was looking incredible with his lightly furred chest and muscle showing its pump from his workout in our basement home gym. And there was those clean-cut, professional looks. Hot doctor with a secret side.

"Your mother just left for her book club," he announced with a playful grin. "You up for a blow job?"

I liked this side of Dad. Matter of fact. Sexual. Needy.

"Hell yeah," I smiled. "If you're offering." I'd gotten off big that morning, Dad always gets me off well when he sucks. But I was a teen, and I had a pretty high sex drive.

"I'm offering," he grinned back, stepping in and closing the door. "Though maybe we can take our time." He got up on the bed and ran his hands up my legs. Dad seemed to really like my legs, or maybe that was his way of foreplay to get me going.

"You want me to last longer?" I asked. Maybe not insecure but feeling like a young guy with a lot to learn about sex. "You get me so worked up, it's sometimes hard to last," I admitted.

Dad chuckled. "I like that, Junior," he said. "I love when you cum fast... but I was thinking it would be fun to edge you a little tonight.... I mean, we have the time to play."

I knew what edging was, but never had really done it. I was usually too impatient to cum. "Sounds hot, Dad."

And like that, my father scooted up and cautiously met me for a kiss. We'd kissed before, but not much. I got the sense Dad only let himself do it when he was really horny. He was really horny now, I could tell by the feel of his boner in his shorts, pressing against mine.

I fucking loved it, though. I mean, I love kissing in general and making out with Dad was a mind fuck and a half that made my cock drip big time.

We both laughed as we broke the kiss. Like we'd gotten carried away.

"You OK with this, Junior?" Dad asked.

I ran my hands along his bare flank, feeling his warmth and firm muscle beneath the middle age softness. "Dad... you're fucking sucking my cock every day... of course I'm gonna be OK with this."

I worried I was too direct, but Dad just chuckled. "You're a horny kid all right," he said. Now his fingers ran underneath my T-shirt, feeling up my bare muscle. "And I'm VERY happy to take care of my hot young man." From anyone else that would have sounded slutty, but from Dad, it was just weirdly paternal and hot.

I gulped. "God, Dad."

"You'd say if we were doing this too much, right?" he looked in my eye, even as his fingers now ran beneath the elastic waistband of my mesh shorts.

I gulped and nodded. My cock lurched, feeling the aching closeness of his hand. It was like it had been 12 days since I'd last gotten off, not 12 hours. "Trust me, Dad... if anything it's the opposite."

That made him pause and look right into my eye. "You want it more, Junior."

My throat felt dry and I felt hot and sexual. "Fuck, Dad," I didn't normnally curse like that around my father, but something about the blowjobs changed the dynamic. "I don't mean it like what you're doing for me isn't enough... but yeah, I think about it a lot."

Dad peeled down my shorts, taking my briefs with them. My hardon was bared for him, throbbing and rigid. He took a second to openly admire it. Like he did each morning on our runs, but instead of a second to get a look, he had as much time as he wanted. We didn't need to rush this.

"We'll figure out a way, buddy," he said. "Put you on the twice a day plan," he winked. Then more softly he growled. "Damn, I love your cock so much son."

His fingers now traced my length slowly, openly, his eyes going from my dick and back up to meet my gaze. His blowjobs were incredible, but there was something powerful and intimate about this, too.

"Um, Dad," I said, a little nervous.

He looked back up at me. "Yeah, buddy?" In that you-can-ask-me-anything tone he'd use in our father-son chats.

Here goes. "I notice you rarely get off yourself," I said.

Dad seemed prepared for my comment, like he was surprised I hadn't asked him before. "I like to save it for your mother, Junior," he answered. "Makes me feel less guilty about what we're doing." Then fixing my gaze... "Too much information?"

I shook my head. "All good, Dad. Just wanna make sure.... you know... I don't wanna be an asshole or anything."

"We're good, son," Dad said, giving my bone a steadier stroke now. "Truth is, it's my way of edging, too.... can't get enough."

I sat up on my elbows, looking down. I wanted him to suck me so bad now. "Anytime you want it, Dad, just let me know. For real... I'm always horny."

Dad didn't reply but just moistened his lips. Then he leaned over and took my stick in between his surprisingly soft lips. At some point I'd have to ask him where he learned to suck dick so well. But that could wait. For now, I just enjoyed the feel of his warm wet mouth making love to my prick. Up and down, bobbing with fuller strokes till he was deep throating me.

"Dad!" I cried. I knew I'd cum any second.

Dad pulled off instantly and attacked my balls. It was the perfect stimulation, but one that fed my lust without making me boil over. He did this for a minute than took my whole cock on again.

Edging or not, we could only go a couple of times at this before my load had a mind of its own. As Dad was making his retreat from my dick, I was already firing against his tongue. My ejaculation caught him by surprise but he went back into full on milking mode to suck my balls dry.

"Sorry, Dad," I said as he finally came up from my lap.

Dad grinned. "Not a problem, son.... was it good?"

"The best," I answered. "I just know you wanted to go longer tonight."

Dad scooted up to lie beside me. "Well, your mother will be out till about 10...." he reached down and ran his fingers along my spit and cum wet half-hard dong. "You think maybe you got another in you?"

I smirked back at him. "I'd say so, Dad... definitely."

That was the first day Dad swallowed three of my loads, but not the last.

****

I wasn't real tight with Matt Carson, I mean he seemed a cool enough guy but he wasn't a football jock and was on the quieter side. Almost nerdy quiet. But he was friendly in his way as he stopped me in the hall one day between periods at school.

"Hey Mike," he said. Unlike guys on the team or my close buddies, Matt didn't call me by my last name. I guess I used his first name, too.

"Matt," I said, not giving him a fist bump like I might my buddies. "What's up?"

"What are your plans Saturday?" It was December and it was the rare week when the high school had no sports going on.

I shrugged. "No plans yet. Why?"

He was still guarded but more talkative than I'd ever seen him. "It's my birthday this weekend and I thought of having a few guys over. If you're interested..."

This surprised me. I wasn't a close bud with Matt. Then again, I worried he was the kind of dude who didn't have any close buds. I felt bad. "Sure, sounds cool," I said. Maybe I was getting myself into an awkward evening, but whatever.

I was glad to see a big smile on Matt's face. "Awesome, man... I wasn't sure..." he started. "It's at 7, just pizza and stuff... but guys are free to stay over if they want." There was something to the look in his eye that made me wonder if something was up. Maybe it wouldn't be a key party but a Mr. Carson BJ might be in the works. "I'll check with my folks," I said. "But I'll see you at 7."

We bumped fists and walked on to our classes.

****

It did seem to be just pizza and stuff. I sat wondering if my Dad was upset or jealous. Mom had been the one I asked for permission to stay over at Matt's, and I could see Dad's quiet but noticeable facial expression. I'd have to clear the air with him later, but part of me resented this part of our weird affair.

Especially because it didn't look like anything sexual was even going to happen.

However, around 9:00, Drew, one of Matt's basketball teammates, and Connor, one of the popular kids in school, had to go. I think Drew's parents were pretty strict and maybe religious, whereas Connor just had a hot date. That left Matt, me, my teammate Alex Ramirez, and another basketball player, Daryl, a tall chocolate-skinned jock who was kind of moody when I'd met him before but now seemed a lot more chill.

We were playing video games and I hadn't noticed Daryl had gone more than a couple of minutes. Hell, maybe he was just gone a couple of minutes. But he came back with a conspiratorial grin on his face. "Dayum, Matty... your old man has skills all right."

I was caught off guard, my face darting between the guys... Daryl, with his shit-eating grin, then Matt, who blushed some, then Alex who was amused by my surprised reaction.

"I guess you missed the last key party huh, Walsh?" Rodriguez teased, leaning back to spread his legs. "We got a new member to the club," he explained, gesturing toward Daryl.

Daryl now was getting a more earnest look on his face, leaning in some as he fixed me with his gaze. "Matty says your dad's a great cocksucker."

Part of me wanted to tell the guy not to talk about my father like that. But he was right, and besides, the appeal of the guys talk won me over. "Fuck, dude, I can't resist a blowjob from him."

Alex was now getting impatient. He gripped his crotch, where a thick rod rode up in his sweats. "It is my turn, Carson?" he asked the host. "I'm not supposed to fuck around without Dad there, so keep this a secret, OK?"

Matt chuckled. "Yeah, you got it."

I watched the hunky tight end stand up. Alex had the height, build, and athleticism of a star player, and it turns out he had the tool to match. Mr. Carson was gonna get a mouthful.

Now Matt seemed to get his normal shy side coming out. "You OK with this Mike?" he asked. "I figured..."

"Yeah," I said. "I wasn't sure if it was gonna be this kind of party, but that's very cool."

Carson smiled. "It's kind of my birthday present, actually. Dad putting out for my buddies," he explained. "It's been one of my fantasies."

Daryl laughed as he picked up the control to take over playing the video game. "You are one kinky motherfucker."

Carson seemed to relax. I realized he craved to be teased, to be one of the guys.

"What's the fantasy?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Dad taking care of you all. Multiple times if you want."

"I'm gonna want," Daryl piped, reaching down to rearrange his junk. He seemed hung, but not quite as big as Matt, who had a really long schlong. "Shi-ut"

"Yeah, me too," I said. Mr. Carson had never drawn Dad's keys at one of our oral parties, so I'd not yet experienced his mouth.

I'd have to wait a while longer. Rodriguez was taking his own sweet time, damnit. I tried to make small talk with Matt while Daryl played his turn, but I was getting harder by the minute.

"Your Dad OK with you having fun tonight?" Matt finally asked, nodding to my boner.

"I don't know, actually," I said. "We didn't talk about it. I don't really give a fuck," I said, even though maybe I did.

Alex finally came back in, olive complexion flush redder and a his hair actually sweaty. "Damn, Carson," he said to Matt. "Who's birthday is it?"

Already I was standing up, impatient to claim my first blowjob.

I sort of knew my way around the Carson McMansion, and I saw the light from the end of the hall upstairs saying where the master bedroom was. The door was ajar, and I quietly stepped up and gave a little knock.

"Mr. Carson?" I asked. I don't know why, but I was in polite guest mode.

"Yep," came the deep voice inside. "Come in."

There was a magnificent sight. Dave Carson's 40-something body naked and splayed face down, all 6'6" of his lean daddy build lying on the king sized bed. For a man of his build, his ass was surprisingly round, an almost pert bubble butt dusted in hair. Even from a few feet away, I could see the buns were wet.

Mr. Carson turned his head back but didn't make a motion to move. "There's lube on the nightstand," he said matter of factly. "And rubbers if you want. None of the other guys did," he chuckled before laying his face back down on the pillow.

I wouldn't say I never thought about fucking, but I'd never thought about fucking one of the key party dads. There had always been such a strict oral-only rule. But this wasn't a key party and the usual rules clearly didn't apply.

I stepped up and ran my hand along his calves. Furry and warm, I don't know why but it felt naughtier than normal to touch Mr. Carson like this. "Did Daryl and A both do you, Mr. C?"

He nodded. "Drew, too. Twice. I'm gonna be a little wet down there, Mike."

Fuck. I didn't know if this was crossing some line Dad didn't want me to cross. Like Rodriguez said, this secret could stay with the guys at the party. I slipped down my sweats and kicked them aside. I almost didn't both removing my T shirt but I enjoyed the dreamy smile on Mr. Carson's face as I did.

Yeah, I had a great body, thick and toned and athletic, but I was also just a high school senior who felt like a goddamn porn star just then. I climbed up on the bed, kneeling behind Matt's dad first, so I could run my hands along his hamstrings and ass muscle, taking it all in. My first fuck with a guy.

I dipped my finger in the crack. Mr. C wasn't kidding, he was wet as fuck. I wouldn't need lube on my cock. I didn't know what I was doing other than imitating porn videos. It was a good thing the man was all loose now and relaxed. As I stretched out on his warm body and guided my prick in place, his hole welcomed me instantly, its elastic wetness opening for my cock.

"Fuck!" I grunted.

"Your first, Mike?" Dave Carson asked excitedly. Realizing.

"Hell yes," I said. Now powering in for my first real thrust inside another man. The entry had been loose but once I bottomed out I felt the snugness of his guts around me.

I fucked in again.

"Go for it," Mr. Carson urged. "Fuck me."

The man braced his hands on the mattress, fingers digging in a little when I bottomed out a little too hard or deep. But he didn't complain or tell me to slow down. So I rode it out. I loved getting head, and I'd continue to love it. But this was different and exciting and a completely different set of sensations along my prick. I wanted to maximize that feeling so I fucked faster. Harder.

I planted my lips along Mr. Carson's neck. I got some height on me, but Mr. C is one tall motherfucker. Or I was a dadfucker. The idea had me cumming, my own dad and Mr. Carson melding into one.

When I finally dismounted, my dick was coated in frothy cum.

"Bring it here, stud," came the deep voice in soft instruction.

"You sure?" I asked. I mean, the man's hole was clean, but there was a lot of lube and a lot more sperm on my dick.

He just scooted around to take me in between his lips. Then descended deeper. I learned that day the difference between a real blowjob suck and a clean off suck. Mr. Carson gave it a soft kiss as he pulled off.

"You're amazing, Mike," he said. His blue eyes looked up at me. It was wild this masculine man was so into dick, but then again I could say that about my dad, or Mr. Gehring or Mr. Rodriguez. "Hopefully you're up for more later."

"Yes, sir," I said in dumb politeness. Now embarrassed, I found my sweats and T-shirt and slipped them on.

Matt was waiting outside the door, naked and hard with the long cock sticking up. He'd watched us.

"Hot, bro," he grinned.

"Yeah," I said. I leaned in to whisper. "You do this often?" I had to ask. I wasn't the brightest guy maybe.

Matt nodded with a pride glee. "All the time. It's hot, right?"

He didn't give me a chance to answer the rhetorical question. He patted my shoulder and walked past me into his father's bedroom.

I gave them their privacy.

****

I fucked Mr. Carson twice more that night. The third time I barely had anything to shoot, but I wanted the chance to enjoy the new experience again. I didn't keep track of the other guys, but they did him at least that much.

We woke up late, and Mr. Carson was still sleeping in. Matt was back to his quiet mode and could have been having regrets, so we kept things cool, talking about school stuff.

I got home by 11. Dad had a nervous look on his face. I felt frustrated. But I kept my poker face as I told my parents I had a good time and checked in. I then went off to shower. I had homework to do and then get to the gym.

I'd barely slipped on my underwear when Dad knocked on the door.

"Have fun, buddy?" he asked quietly, slipping into my room.

I nodded. I loved showing off my body to my father. Something about fucking Mr. Carson made me feel like an even bigger stud than normal. "You mad, Dad?"

"Not if it's what you want, Junior," he said. Then dropping to a whisper he added. "I know I don't take care of your needs enough."

Holy head fuck, Dad knew how to drive me crazy. The man sucked me at least once a day now, and often two or three times. And here was my mild-mannered, professional father acting like it wasn't enough.

"Shut the door, Dad," I whispered.

He got an excited look on his face. This was risky as fuck.

I peeled down my underwear and let my prick flop out. Unbelievably it was firming up again. Dad crouched down and hungrily caught the expanding head in his mouth. I lately learned he loved to have me go hard in his mouth. He was getting that today and going wild, moaning around my teen meat and scarfing it down. Within seconds I was fully erect and Dad was bobbing up and down on me.

This was me with a sex hangover going for hair of the dog. One of my Dad's prize-winning blowjobs. Nasty incest sucking. I watched his salt pepper hair and his hunched shoulders and savored the soft squishy sucking sounds combined with his quiet moans. Dad was going to have to work a little harder for this load, but he was up to the task. It might have been his best technique to date, the right combination of hard and silky-soft. Fingers on my ball sac, coaxing out my load.

I reached down and gripped his shoulder, giving him a soft squeeze to let him know I was coming. He hoovered down my semen as fast as I fed it to him. I was lightheaded, the orgasm was that good.

And as quickly as it started Dad retreated, pulling off and wiping his chin, before standing up. Nervously he darted to the door, listening ear to the wood, before he cracked it open, then slipped outside.

****

I was too tired for more that day, and Dad didn't pester me for anything more. I got a quickie Monday morning as Mom showered. But on Tuesday Dad somehow found time to get me off three times. Mom's book club was the best thing ever, I decided.

I lay back on the bed as Dad knelt between my spread legs, softly kissing my now sated genitals.

"For spring break, some of the dads are organizing a beach trip. Just guys," he said.

"Yeah?" I asked, perking up at the implications Dad seemed to be dropping.

He grinned and looked up at me. Like it was a chore to break eye contact with my dick. "If that appeals to you, Junior."

"Oh yeah. Who's gonna be there?"

"The usual. Carson, Gehring, and Heller. We're working on Joe Marino."

"Hot," I said. My prick was filling out some thinking of the possibilities. "Dad..." I said, my voice getting more serious. "I fucked Mr. Carson." I was going to keep this a secret, but I wanted to clear the air.

"Oh," Dad said, taken aback. He then got his encouraging paternal expression. "You enjoy that, Junior?"

I nodded. "A lot. Yeah."

He seemed to take that in. "I don't think I could do that," he said simply.

"I'm not expecting you to, Dad," I said. "Unless you wanted to." I had to throw the idea out there.

"Can we just keep it to this?" he asked.

"Absolutely," I replied. My dick was hard now. I pushed it down, offering to Dad in case he wanted to go for number four. "How bout now?"

He smiled. "You got a beautiful cock, Junior." He scooted forth and began licking me again.

"And I have the best cocksucker for a father," I teased. I always worried I was going too far when I said stuff like that, but Dad seemed more excited now, swallowing me deeper. I placed my hand on the back his neck and playfully held him there a couple of seconds before took more meat into his craw.

Hell yes we were going for number four. Dad taking his time, me focusing my erotic thoughts to get off again. To get over the finish line for Dad.

And as I came down from my intense fourth come, I decided I was going to have to do something special for Dad, to thank him for taking such good care of me.

[glossykissies]

yoga!reader guiding clark through some moves and his pants get too tight bcos of the way you look in your workout clothes with your ass practically in his face

“so you really think this is gonna help me? you know, with all the… stress?”

it was honestly adorable the way you nodded with a smile, so sure that something as simple as yoga could ease clark of the constant earth-shattering nature of his life — but in your defence, you were none the wiser to the fact he was super human. he’d brushed it off as ‘parent-troubles’ and you’d been too polite to prod further.

“mhm! yoga has helped me through some really hard times, clark. trust me, a little bit every day goes a long way.” you grin, all bubbly and sweet as you lead him to the mat in the empty home gym of your garage. your parents were never home, and he was starting to think you were just happy to have someone over.

he looks around, strolling casually behind you as you set up his little station— hands casually in his sweatpant pockets as he tries to avoid staring right at your ass when you bend over to smooth out his yoga mat. baby pink, so he knew it belonged to you.

“plus, yoga is good for lots of things.” you continue on, intent on filling the silence. “practicing every day has made my body super flexible.” you brag cutely, dusting off your yoga pants as you stand once more.

“oh yeah?” his head whips over to you, which was meant to be innocent but he later realised how eager he might’ve sounded to hear about what positions you can get into.

“yeah! but those kind of things are more advanced. comes with practice. i’d probably start you with some breathing exercises, sitting cross legged. something as simple as that can be yoga too, you know?” you chat, glancing over your shoulder as the two of you take a seat, you slightly infront of him so he could watch and copy you. “or perhaps downward dog? that’s a classic.”

“downward dog?” clark chuckles in amusement at the silly name and you share his confused giggle.

“i know, sounds weird. but it’s easy!” you chirp, spinning on your knees and assuming the position - which happened to quite literally be presenting yourself to clark. you hold the pose, impressively at that — and he finds himself entranced for a moment, eyebrows slowly raising as he boyishly stares at your painted on leggings, snapping himself out of it just as he began to swear he could see the outline of your puffy pussy through the fabric. he clears his throat, physically shaking away the thoughts. he was raised better than that — besides, the loose sweatpants he wore would be anything but forgiving if he let himself get carried away.

“eheuhm— yeah! that’s uh, that’s pretty impressive.” he smiles in his usual friendly way and you spin back to him like a puppy who’d just performed a trick for its owner, looking totally happy with yourself beneath his praise.

“yeah? it was one of the first things i perfected.” you shrug, trying to feign humble now. when you turn to grab your water bottle, clark subtly pulls at his sweatpants to adjust himself as well as he could in such short time. you’re none the wiser. “is there anything specific you wanna learn? i’m not sure how familiar you are with yoga…”

“oh! well, uh— hey. you’re the teacher here. i’ll be grateful for any kind of tips.” he presses his lips together humbly, eyes earnest as he places a hand over his white-tshirt clad chest. that strong chest you kept glancing at.

“hm.” you push your mouth into the corner and tap your chin like a cartoon character. his lips twitch up some more because he finds it adorable. “well i’ve always wanted to try two person yoga… never had a partner to do it with though.” you look down, shy at the suggestion and he sits up a little bit — jumping to reassure you. he couldn’t stand seeing a pretty girl doubt herself. maybe he was also slightly jumping at the notion of touching you. not in a creepy way of course — well, he’s not sure now.

“that sounds like a great idea.” he speaks intentionally, as if trying to convey the reassurance he felt you needed, eyes locked on you until you reciprocate the eye contact. there’s that smile again.