#dumbbell chest press

[freeonlineworkouts]

Bodybuilding

[joemusclefan]

Shawn Ray

[scribeanand]

8 Best EXERCISES TO TRY AT HOME

[meticulous-tendencies]

I do usually bruise from db bench but today was extra 😅 but I hit 3 sets of 8 and moved up to 47.5s! 💪🏻 🤩 great workout today

[benchpressingbanlikeyou2]

This is your sign go heavier on dumbbells if you haven’t 😅🥹

[texasbodybuilders]

Dumbbell press better or cause injury?

Over at @RenaissancePeriodization on YouTube, they are teaching the incline dumbbell press. The gentlemen in the video describes going beyond the range of motion of the chest may help increase your overall muscle gains. He’s trying to teach you how to incline dumbbell press better. But does this help you Dumbbell press better or cause injury? Some folks in the comments are a bit suspect of this…

[nighttimealone]

Cw: Nsfw (Simon notices the outline of your thong that’s hidden under your yoga pants)

Simon isn’t even sure whether you’re doing this intentionally, trying to tease him, or you truly doesn’t realize how you’re testing his restraint, how he’s trying so hard not to just push you against the nearest wall in the gym and go down on you right now.

Your back is facing him, just standing few feet away in front of him, wearing that tight yoga pants emphasizing your supple thighs and ass in the most delectable way, squatting and let out tiny grunts here and there. The worst part is, he can see the thong you’re hiding behind the yoga pants, the outline of it so clearly for him, good that it’s just you two in the gym now, or he might just drag you back home and hide you from others’ ogling.

“Hey, what-“ His hands grab onto your arm the second you set down the dumbbell, your yelps and confusion doesn’t recognize by him as he shoves open an empty shower room and pin you against the wall, his bulge pressing snuggly on your pussy.

He’s mad hard, already leaving a dark spot on his sweatpants as he rubs it against your core shamelessly.

“You doing this on purpose, princess?” Pulling down your yoga pants, hooking a finger over the thin strip of your thong, he tugs it with a slight grin, letting it slap back against your hips. And that’s when you realize that the outline of your thongs’ actually visible even with the pants on.

“I didn’t mean it, Simon.” The noise of the running shower can’t cover your moans and attempted explaining, because he frees his thick, leaking cock from his boxers, chest securing you to the tiles, so he’s able to drag that aching shaft along your pussy, fucking your pussy lips and prodding at the clit till you’re a blabbering mess.

“Didn’t mean it? but you still made it hard for me, love.” The bulb tip slide into your soaking cunt easily. He calms himself and pants beside your ears, trying not to come immediately from how tight and warm your heavenly pussy feels. “You know how sexy you were when doing those squats, shoving your arse towards me, and kept reminding me you had a bloody thong that couldn’t even cover your pussy properly under the yoga pants?”

He rocks his hips fiercely, letting out all the pent-up horniness with each deep thrust, directly abusing the sweet spots and coaxing moans after moans from you.

The usually quiet man groans loudly every time he wrenches an orgasm out of you, the shower wash off your juices dripping down your thighs, before your eyes roll back and cry out, messing them with both his and your cum.

“Gonna come…ngh, fuck…” Seeing stars can’t describe how cock drunk you are now when you squeeze your cunt around his cock and tumble over the edge, the white hot pleasure corrupting your mind, overstimulated to your limits when he hisses—almost comes too early from your spasming walls and pinch your clit as retaliation.

“Fuck, going to paint your pretty little pussy with my cum again…gotta-oh fuck” Simon’s voice trembles when slamming into you one last time, filling you up nice and tight with his release. He leans his forehead against your shoulder, recovering from the aftershocks of orgasms together with you.

“-Gotta claim this fucking pussy again, 's all mine, yeah?” Murmuring and pressing a tender kiss to your nape, he grabs the soap and start cleaning you up, more from the aftermath of the sloppy make-out than your previous workout.

[sumitk881100]

Leg Exercises

[fitnessninefit]

Chest Press Vs Bench Press: Which is the Best Chest Workout: The Guide To Pick The Best Option For Max Chest Power And Strength

The chest press and bench press feature the same joint movements and develop the same muscles in the upper body. However, "bench press" is a term often applied to the exercise when it’s completed on a flat or incline bench, while the term "chest press" is used when the exercise is completed while seated on a machine.

Having a solid chest has always been a goal for many fitness enthusiasts, and no wonder. It does look good. In the quest for building a massive and eye catching chest, we must talk about chest press and bench presses. 

Chest press vs. Bench press: the guide to picking the best option for max chest power and strength will help you navigate through the noise and choose the option that best meets your goals. Read more for bench press and chest press workout which better for you do for chest workout and upper body workout.

[luveline]

hey lovely!! can we maybe get some more pregnant bombshell and spencer??

“What I’ve decided,” you say, reclining back against Spencer’s lap with all the air of a resting empress, “is that I don’t actually like being pregnant.” 

Spencer startles, as does Hotch. JJ doesn’t flinch. “It’s awful,” she says. 

You’re too pregnant to terminate the pregnancy, now. Thirty weeks, your stomach a bump you pretend doesn’t exist when you aren’t holding a hand to it. “I love my baby,” you say, letting Spencer relax again underneath you, “but this is inhumane.” 

“It’s one of the most human experiences you could ever live through,” Spencer says. People have been having babies since the beginning of time. 

“I wonder if you’d feel that way if you were the pregnant one.” You slip further down into his lap, shuffling across the jet’s couch to let your head rest on his thigh. Your chin tips up, your lips curling into a painted smile. He could kiss every bit of lipstick off of your mouth if you didn’t have an audience. 

“I just mean, it’s intrinsically human to reproduce. Not that your feelings aren’t real. Sorry.” 

“Ooh, sorry,” you mumble, giving him a playful, almost daring smirk. “Doghouse for you, handsome. You know you’re supposed to agree to everything I say.” 

“I know.” 

“Is it hard?” Hotch asks. Not unaware that it is, in fact, very hard, but probing you to open up further should you want to. Spencer probably should’ve asked you first, he thinks. He holds your face in apology. 

“Hotch, it’s like… It’s hard because it doesn’t stop. Sometimes I don’t notice, I don’t feel any different, but when I’m nauseous or when it’s barely five and my back aches like I’ve been carrying a dumbbell all day… I don’t know.” 

“It’s alright to not enjoy it,” Spencer says. “You don’t have to think it’s fun. You can hate every second of it, if you want.” 

“I don’t. Really, I don’t. Just tired.” 

“You could be in the field less,” Hotch suggests. 

You cover your eyes with your hand. “Don’t suggest big things to me.” 

“It’s up to you when you want to stop. But don’t think you can’t take a break. Even if next week you want to come back.” Hotch smiles. “After all, you’re the brains of the operation. You can consult through video, like Penelope.” 

You laugh at being called the brains, stretching your legs out, stockings shining down the lengths of you like they’ve suffered a sudden rain. “It’s not about being tired. I’m exhausted, but it’s just strange sometimes, that’s all. I don’t always feel like me.” 

Spencer lets his hand fall to your chest, rubbing a short line under your collar he hopes is soothing.

“It’s the emotional aspect too,” JJ says. “All the hormones.” 

“Yeah, it is,” you say. 

Spencer hears the unhappiness threaded in your tone, but he’s not sure what to do. Hotch and JJ realise you’re done talking for now and return to their own devices, a new quiet descending over the jet, the only sound the rush and hum of air. Spencer keeps on rubbing that same spot over your chest. Your eyes close. He knows you too well to think you’re sleeping. 

“Are you really unhappy?” he asks quietly. 

“No, Spence. Didn’t mean it like that.” 

“I know. It’s alright if you aren’t happy.” 

“I’m mostly happy.” 

“I want you to be a hundred percent happy.”

“I don’t think I can be right now.” 

He lets his pinky dip under the neckline of your shirt. Your skin is soft. “Okay. Don’t be happy if you can’t be. I’m here no matter what.” 

You sigh softly and twist on your side, your nose pressing into his stomach, the heat of your breath slowly transferring through his shirt to his skin. Spencer brings his hand around with you, holding the back of your neck as you make yourself comfortable. 

“I love you, I swear,” you whisper. “And her.” 

“I know it’s not about love. Pregnancy can be an evil, heavy, horrible thing to go through. Don’t feel like you have to pretend it’s not. There’s gestational diabetes, morning sickness, high blood pressure, night sweats, depression…” Spencer ducks down to press his cheek briefly to your temple. “If you liked all that, there’d be something wrong with you. There’s nothing wrong with how you feel, okay?” 

“Okay.” You kiss his shirt. 

“Massage?” he offers. 

“Yes!” You wriggle closer to him and shiver happily as his hand finds the knot between your shoulders. “That’s a pro for this whole ordeal. You could open a massage parlour with hands like that. They’d call it Reid’s Reflexology.” 

“Yeah? Is that a hint for a foot massage?” 

You giggle like you’ve been tickled. JJ groans in her seat with reluctant fondness, while Hotch murmurs, “Let’s keep it PG-13, please.” 

[freeonlineworkouts]

Chest Workout

[elfo2222]

Wave Goodbye to Flabby Arms Forever with These Expert-Recommended Moves

Description:

Are you tired of dealing with flabby arms and longing for beautifully toned and defined muscles? Look no further! In this video, we'll guide you through a series of six targeted exercises designed to help you lose those flabby arms and achieve the sculpted look you desire. Say goodbye to loose skin and hello to toned arms!

Arm Circles Backwards: 

We kick off with a classic exercise that engages your shoulders, triceps, and upper back. 💪🔄 Arm circles backwards will help strengthen and tone the muscles in your arms while improving overall flexibility.

Chest and Shoulder Press: 

This exercise targets your chest, shoulders, and triceps. By incorporating weights or resistance bands, you'll increase the intensity, allowing for effective muscle building and toning. 💪💪🏋️‍♂️

Pullbacks: 

Focus on those triceps with pullbacks! Grab a dumbbell or resistance band, extend your arm backward, and squeeze those tricep muscles. This move is fantastic for toning the back of your arms and improving overall arm strength. 💪💪🔙

Tricep Extensions: 

Grab a dumbbell or a suitable weighted object and get ready to tone your triceps to perfection. Tricep extensions target the back of your arms, helping you eliminate the flab and replace it with lean muscle. 💪💪💪

Tricep Pulses: 

Elevate the burn with tricep pulses! This challenging move will really make your triceps work. By keeping your elbows close to your body and pulsing up and down, you'll engage the muscles and achieve a tighter, firmer appearance. 💪💥🔥

Bonus Tip: 

Consistency is key! Along with these exercises, remember to maintain a healthy lifestyle by incorporating regular cardio exercises, eating a balanced diet, and staying hydrated. This holistic approach will help you achieve optimal results. 💯🏃‍♀️🥦💦

Say goodbye to flabby arms and hello to strong, toned muscles! Join us in this arms-focused workout, follow along with our expert guidance, and start your journey towards beautifully sculpted arms today. Remember, with dedication and perseverance, you can achieve any fitness goal. Let's get started on transforming your arms and boosting your confidence! 💪🔥👍

[fitnessmantram]

Best Chest Exercise For Men || Chest Workout || Shoulder Workout || #sho...

The majority of intermediate-advanced lifters need at least six sets of direct chest work per week to improve, though some do more. That amounts to approximately three sets per session if you train twice per week.

[hellinistical]

in which your attempts at teasing him backfire.

tw: not proof-read. afab.reader wc: 1.7k

You step into the room, the faint scent of rubber and sweat hanging in the air. The hum of the ceiling fan is steady, the only sound breaking the silence. The floor is lined with thick black mats, the kind that dulls the impact of each step, each weight dropped. The walls are decorated with posters—motivational quotes, athletes mid-motion, the colors vibrant in contrast to the dim lighting that casts shadows around the room. A large mirror stretches across one wall, reflecting your every move as you glance at your reflection.

The scent of metal greets you next as your gaze shifts to the weights stacked neatly along one side, a collection of dumbbells, kettlebells, and barbells glistening under the faint light. The bench press sits at the center, its leather worn but sturdy. To your left, a treadmill sits untouched, and beyond that, the elliptical machine waits patiently for your attention.

There's a small section by the window with a yoga mat rolled out, soft light filtering through the blinds. A set of resistance bands hangs from a hook nearby, and a jump rope lies coiled by the corner. You can feel the space welcoming you, pushing you to move, to work, to reach your limits. The room is yours, an arena for your body to push against its own boundaries.

And in the middle is your boyfriend, doing pushups. 

You can’t help but watch as Caleb’s muscles ripple with each push-up, his back shifting under the strain. His skin glistens with sweat, the droplets tracing down his back and disappearing into the waistband of his shorts. Every time he lowers himself, the dog tag around his neck swings down, grazing the floor with a soft clink. The sound of his breath, deep and measured, mixed with the occasional grunt, only adds to the moment. There's something about the rhythm of it all that pulls you in.

You shift silently, careful not to make a sound, your steps light on the rubber floor. A small, mischievous smile plays on your lips as you inch closer, his focus completely on his workout. You can’t resist; the moment feels too perfect, too tempting. You sneak up behind him, just as he finishes a push-up, and almost without thinking, you reach out, gently tapping his shoulder, a playful challenge in your eyes.

Caleb looks up, surprise flashing across his face for just a second before his lips curl into a grin. His breath catches slightly as you stand there, a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth.

You tilt your head, feigning innocence as you grin, "Mind if I join you?"

Caleb pauses mid-push-up, his body locking in place. He looks up at you with a smirk, his breath still coming in quick bursts. "Hm? Course you can, princess—oh!" His voice falters slightly as you suddenly hop onto his back, your legs on either side, your hands lightly resting on his shoulders for balance.

The muscles in his back tense under the unexpected weight, but he doesn’t stop. Instead, he gives a huff of laughter, his deep voice vibrating through his chest, and you can feel the heat from his body. His dog tag bounces off the floor again, and the slight jingle makes you smile, knowing exactly what you've just done.

"You're cruel," he mutters, pushing himself back into his rhythm, but his tone has a playful edge. He doesn’t skip a beat. As soon as the words hang in the air, Caleb shifts beneath you, the playful grin still plastered on his face. He pushes himself deeper into the movement, each push-up becoming smoother, more controlled. His body doesn't seem to strain under your weight—it almost seems like he's showing off now, making it look easy. You can feel the strength in his muscles, the way his back flexes and shifts with each rep, as though he's daring you to try and throw him off.

His dog tag swings faster, hitting the floor with a soft clink, a rhythm to match his pace. You can feel the heat of his body, the tension of his muscles as he adds more power to each push-up, lifting you up ever so slightly with each press. His breathing is steady, but you sense an almost playful smugness in the way he moves, like he's enjoying proving just how little you weigh in comparison to the challenge he's setting for himself.

You, however, are stuck in a position where you're trying to hold on and not fall off, and there's a growing sense of realization that while this moment feels full of playful defiance, it’s clear—you're nothing to him. He’s doing this effortlessly, with a quiet confidence that makes it impossible to ignore. You smirk, but it’s no longer playful—it’s more of a challenge.

You can feel the space between the two of you in more ways than one. He’s showing off, but you’re beginning to wonder if that’s all this is ever going to be.

Before you can even process what’s happening, Caleb shifts suddenly. With one smooth movement, he flips you off his back and swings you under him, pinning you down gently against the rubber mat beneath you. His hands rest on the floor beside your head as he continues with his push-ups, his arms steady and sure.

You're lying there, completely caught off guard, your breath catching in your throat. Each time he lowers himself, his dog tag swings forward and lands on your chest with a soft clink, the cool metal pressing against your skin. The sound, the sensation—it’s like the world has narrowed down to just the weight of him above you and the steady rhythm of his movements.

And then, Caleb laughs, that low, easy chuckle that makes his chest rumble. It’s teasing, playful, and a little smug. "Told you I could handle it, princess." His voice is light, but there's an edge of amusement in it, knowing how completely he’s caught you off guard.

You can’t help but feel the strange mixture of embarrassment and something else—something that keeps your heart racing, even as he doesn’t stop, his push-ups continuing like it’s the most normal thing in the world. You’re trapped under him now, his dog tag steadily tapping against your chest with each descent.

You roll your eyes, the warmth creeping up your neck as you turn your face away, pretending to be unimpressed. “Yeah—well, whatever,” you mutter, trying to play it off, but inside, something flutters that you can’t quite ignore.

Caleb chuckles again, his breath warm against your ear as he continues his push-ups. And then, as he lowers himself toward you for the next one, he pauses just before the descent—and then he presses a quick kiss to your cheek.

The contact is soft but undeniable. You freeze for a moment, your heart racing, caught off guard by the sudden, gentle gesture. His lips linger there, even if just for a second, and then he’s back to his rhythm, continuing his push-ups like nothing happened.

You’re left staring up at him, your cheek tingling from the kiss, your pulse skipping. His laugh follows, still light and teasing. “Had to make sure you were paying attention,” he says, his voice full of amusement.

You bite your lip, trying to hide the surprise. “I’m paying attention,” you respond, though you’re not sure if you mean the push-ups or something else entirely.

His smirk is undeniable, that familiar playful glint in his eyes as he looks down at you, like he knows exactly what’s running through your mind. "Are you?" he teases the question hanging in the air between you two.

Before you can answer—or even process what’s happening—Caleb lowers himself again. This time, instead of just the soft tap of his dog tag, his lips meet yours in a quick, fleeting kiss as he comes down. The pressure of his body so close to yours, the warmth of his lips, it all catches you off guard. Your breath hitches, and for a second, everything else disappears except that kiss, leaving you both suspended in the moment.

He pulls back just as swiftly as he came, the smile on his lips widening as he finishes his push-up, still managing to keep his rhythm. “Just makin’ sure,” he says, that playful smirk still lingering.

Your heart is pounding, and you’re left staring up at him, not sure what to say next. You’ve never really known how to respond to him when he acts like this—all teasing. 

You blink up at him, still trying to steady your breath, but his presence is too overwhelming. Caleb’s smile widens, that familiar, teasing grin stretching across his face. "Just makin' sure," he repeats, his voice light and almost smug, as if he knows exactly how flustered you are.

The way he leans over you, his body so close, makes everything feel a little bit heavier, a little bit more intense. His dog tag swings again, brushing against your chest with each push-up. You can feel the weight of the moment, the quiet challenge he’s setting for you, and the playful way he keeps pushing the boundaries, making sure you’re paying attention, making sure you’re still here with him.

His eyes glint down at you, the smirk never leaving his lips. “You alright down there, princess?” he asks, though it’s clear he’s already enjoying every second of this little game.

You quickly gather yourself, trying to shake off the heat spreading through your cheeks. "I—yeah. Yeah, I’m fine," you say, your voice coming out a little more flustered than you intended. You stare up at him, feeling the weight of his gaze as he continues to smile down at you, completely at ease, while you're left trying to regain some semblance of control.

He chuckles softly, his gaze lingering a moment longer before he resumes his push-ups, but the teasing edge doesn’t leave his tone. "Good," he says, clearly enjoying how much he's gotten under your skin. "Wouldn’t want you to lose focus now, would we?"

And oh, fuck if that didn’t make your stomach flip. 

[ervotica]

steve if he thinks you got hurt in a battle and you didn’t - the RELIEF that would wash over this man

fem!reader; steve finds you after the battle with vecna. you confess to doing something stupid, and steve cuddles you stupid ✩

For the most part, your injuries are superficial. Claret caked in a smearing line over your temple, matting a few stray curls to the side of your head, a couple of rogue handprints against your pulse point, fingerprints marked in blood on your skin, and a twisted ankle that’ll heal on its own with some ice and elevation.

You’re back in Eddie’s trailer, the curly haired boy propped against your shoulder as you wrestle him upright to wrap sheet after sheet of bandages over his midriff. Eddie can feel your panic like a dumbbell pressed to his chest, your eyes flitting upward at every sound as though something is about to jump out and savage you.

“So, you and Harrington, huh?” Eddie fixes you with a sidelong glance, corners of his mouth tipping up teasingly.

“I know. You think it’s weird, right?”

Eddie hisses as you wrap a particularly sore spot, brows pinching into a frown. He keeps talking despite the throbbing in his side.

“Not weird. Just… unexpected. I get why you didn’t tell me.” You pull his t-shirt back over his ribs - now obscured by a thick layer of padding - and twirl his hair into a frizzy ponytail at the nape of his neck while he talks, pleased for the distraction from waiting for Steve’s return.

“I didn’t tell you cause I thought you’d be weird about it or something. Like… I know what school was like for us, and I didn’t want you to think less of me because I love him. He’s a great guy, Ed.”

“You love him, huh?” he coos.

“Shut up. I hate you.” you snort.

You drop your head to Eddie’s shoulder. Maybe chasing after those demobats behind him wasn’t your smartest move, but you have your best friend — alive, whole, and almost back to his full annoying self.

You’re so diligently pleading your case to your theatrical best friend you almost miss Steve slip through the crack in the door. Your lashes twitch when he makes a beeline for you.

“Hey, honey,” he sighs. You feel every one of his muscles uncoil as he wraps himself around you, a protective hand curled over the back of your head. “I was worrying about you, sweet girl.”

“Hey, Stevie,” you coo. You feel strangely close to tears already, throat thick and clogged with it. Eddie busies himself hobbling to the kitchen in search of snacks. “You’re okay?”

“I’m fine, angel. Show me your leg?”

“My leg’s fine!” you blurt, speech jilted with an incredulous laugh. He turns up a few steps from death’s door, and his priority is your fat ankle. “Just…sit. Let me look at you properly, yeah?”

“Let me stay like this for a sec, okay?” He’s wrapped an arm and a leg over your body, crouched where you’re sitting on the carpeted floor. His voice is a whisper against your skin. Then louder with a question. “Whose blood is this, angel?”

“Eddie’s, probably,” you answer round a yawn. “Bats got a chunk out of him.”

“Okay.” He smears a kiss at your jaw. “Why are you so covered, baby?”

“‘Cause I’m a really great friend?” You grimace, eyes crinkling as you prepare yourself for the brunt of the confession. “And maybe… maybe ‘cause I went out there to save his ass.”

You hide your face against the hollow of Steve’s throat, feeling oddly close to crying again. The sting of tears pervades your sinuses, lips pursed in a futile attempt to keep it at bay.

“I couldn’t let him die, Stevie. He was all I had once, you know.”

“You’re too fucking sweet for your own good, you know that?” he murmurs, rocking back on his heels until you’re well and truly trapped in his embrace, squished and helpless as he kisses every inch of you. “My girl. I love you, you self-sacrificing idiot.”

You snort, squeezing him with as much gusto as his injuries will allow. “For the record, Eddie’s the self-sacrificing one. Not me! Be mad at him. I’m just his knight in shining armour, duh.”

“Okay, angel.” Steve’s voice is thick, and your hands cradle his cheeks when he tilts downward to gather more of you up and into his grasp. “Don’t do it again though, okay? I was so worried about you.”

You sniff, lips smacking wetly over his jaw. “You know I’d do it for you too, handsome.”

“And I’d do anything for you. But let’s not let it come to that too often. Deal?”

“Deal.” You let him wrestle you into another squeezing cuddle. “We should just stay in bed tomorrow or something, right?” Giggling, you press your forehead to Steve’s cheek. “I think my house fell into a hole.”

“You can stay with me, angel,” he laughs. “I don’t want to be away from you, anyway.”

Eddie rolls his eyes with a groan from his firm place on the couch. “For the record, this is disgusting,” He obnoxiously crunches a - most definitely stale - Dorito between his front teeth. “But I guess this is cute, or whatever.” He points at Steve, eyes narrowed. “If you’re ever mean to her, I swear to God I will hunt you down, Harrington.”

“Sounds fair to me,” Steve shrugs, smearing yet another kiss over your face.

You suppose there’s worse ways to experience the end of the world.

[littlelamy]

𝑔𝓎𝓂

author's note: nothing! i hope y’all like it 🤭

Rafe's shirt clung to him, sweat rolling down his temple as he set down the dumbbells with a grunt. He was in the zone, his muscles flexing under the strain of his workout. The makeshift gym in his garage echoed with the sound of his heavy breathing, and you stood in the doorway, watching him with a smirk.

"Need something, babe?" he asked, not even sparing you a glance as he moved to adjust the weight on the bench press.

You tilted your head, leaning against the doorframe with a playful pout. "Maybe I just missed you."

He finally looked up, his blue eyes narrowing slightly. "I'm almost done. Be patient."

Patience wasn’t exactly your strong suit, especially not when he looked like that—shirt riding up, revealing the sculpted curve of his abs, veins on his forearms prominent as he adjusted the bar. You sauntered over, feigning innocence, and slid your arms around his waist from behind.

"Rafe," you murmured, your voice low and teasing. "I think you should take a break."

He sighed, half amused, half exasperated. "Y/N..."

You trailed your hands over his stomach, feeling the tension in his muscles as he stilled beneath your touch. "Please?" you whispered, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. "I really missed you."

He turned around, towering over you, his jaw set but his eyes glinting with something darker. "You’re trouble, you know that?"

You grinned, running a finger down his chest. "Only for you."

Rafe caught your wrist before you could tease him further, his grip firm but not unkind. "You think you can just interrupt me and get whatever you want, huh?"

You looked up at him, your breath hitching as he stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. "I was hoping," you said, your voice softer now.

He chuckled, low and dangerous, before backing you against the wall. "You have no idea what you’re asking for."

His hands braced on either side of you, caging you in against the wall, and you couldn’t stop the small hitch in your breath as Rafe’s eyes dragged over you, his smirk tilting into something darker. “You’ve got my attention now, princess. What are you gonna do with it?”

Your cheeks flushed, but you didn’t back down. Meeting his gaze, you let your hands trail up his chest, your fingertips brushing the damp fabric of his shirt. “I was thinking… you could help me out,” you murmured, tilting your head as you tugged gently at his shirt.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear, and the rough edge in his voice sent a shiver down your spine. “Help you out? Is that what you call interrupting me, climbing all over me like you own me?”

Your laugh was breathy, teasing. “Maybe I do.”

Rafe pulled back, his brows raising in mock disbelief. “Oh, you own me now? That’s cute, baby.” His fingers caught your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “You don’t know what you’re playing with.”

You rolled your eyes at his theatrics, though your pulse quickened under his intense stare. “Maybe you should show me, then.”

His smile was wicked as he pushed his body flush against yours, pinning you between the wall and the heat of his chest. “You want me to stop my workout to deal with you?” He leaned in closer, his lips brushing just over yours. “You better make it worth my time.”

Your hands moved instinctively, sliding beneath his shirt and across his taut stomach, the heat of his skin under your palms igniting a boldness you didn’t know you had. “I think I can manage,” you said, your voice soft but laced with challenge.

That was all it took.

Rafe’s lips crushed against yours, and the air left your lungs as he kissed you with a mix of frustration and hunger. His hand gripped the back of your neck, holding you in place, while the other settled firmly on your waist. The heat between you was electric, and his growl against your lips made your knees weak.

“See what you do to me?” he rasped, his forehead pressing against yours as he caught his breath. “You drive me insane, Y/N.”

You smiled up at him, breathless and giddy. “Then I guess you’re stuck with me.”

Rafe let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, I am. But don’t think I’m letting you off easy for this.”

The spark in his eyes told you he wasn’t lying, and the anticipation of what came next made your pulse race.

Before you could respond, Rafe spun you around, pressing you firmly against the wall with one hand on your hip and the other braced beside your head. His voice was a low growl, laced with that signature mix of frustration and amusement.

“You think you can just walk in here, tease me, and get your way?” he murmured, his breath hot against your neck. His lips brushed just beneath your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “You’re a spoiled little thing, you know that?”

“Only for you,” you quipped, though your voice was softer now, your confidence faltering under the heat of his gaze.

Rafe chuckled darkly, his grip tightening on your waist as he pressed his body flush against yours. “Damn right you are,” he muttered, his lips trailing a path down the side of your neck. The combination of his rough hands and his teasing kisses had you melting, and he knew it.

“You’re supposed to be working out,” you whispered, though your words lacked conviction as his hands roamed lower, teasing the curve of your hips.

“I am,” he shot back with a smirk. “You just gave me a better kind of workout.”

Before you could roll your eyes, Rafe spun you around to face him again, his hands cupping your cheeks as he kissed you—hard and demanding. He kissed like he was proving a point, like he had to remind you exactly who was in control, and it left you breathless.

Breaking the kiss, he leaned back just enough to look at you, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. “You’re trouble,” he said, his voice rough, but the way he looked at you was anything but annoyed.

“And you love it,” you teased, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair.

His smirk softened, and for a moment, he let his forehead rest against yours. “Yeah,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “I really do.”

Rafe’s admission hung in the air, his voice low and raw in a way that made your heart skip. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his blue eyes dark but still soft around the edges, like you’d somehow broken through the guarded walls he always put up.

You smirked, trying to lighten the weight of his words even though they sent warmth spreading through you. “So does that mean I can interrupt your workouts more often?”

Rafe huffed out a short laugh, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, though his hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer again. “But don’t think I’m letting you off that easy.”

“Oh?” You raised an eyebrow, your voice teasing. “What are you gonna do about it?”

His smirk returned, but there was something dangerous in his gaze now, something that made your stomach flip. “You really don’t know when to stop pushing, do you?”

You bit your lip, shrugging playfully. “Not when it’s this much fun.”

Rafe didn’t respond, at least not with words. Instead, he bent down, gripping the backs of your thighs and hoisting you up effortlessly. A surprised gasp left your lips as you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, your arms looping around his neck.

“Rafe!” you squealed, but his grin only widened.

“Yeah, keep saying my name, baby,” he said, his voice rough with amusement as he carried you toward the padded bench he’d just been using. He set you down gently, leaning over you with his hands on either side of your hips.

“You wanted my attention,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over yours. “You’ve got it. Now what?”

Your cheeks flushed under the weight of his gaze, but you weren’t about to back down now. “I want you,” you whispered, your voice soft but steady.

For a moment, Rafe just looked at you, like he was committing this moment to memory. Then his smirk softened into something warmer, and he leaned down, brushing his lips against yours in a kiss that was surprisingly tender given the fire in his eyes earlier.

“You’ve got me,” he murmured against your lips.

Rafe’s lips lingered against yours, slow and deliberate, as though he was savoring the moment. The tenderness in his touch contrasted the tension from moments before, and it left your head spinning. His hands rested on your thighs, fingers flexing slightly as if he was grounding himself.

You let your hands drift to his shoulders, gripping the taut muscles there as you whispered, “What happened to not letting me off easy?”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, the corner of his mouth quirking into a smirk. “Oh, I’m not,” he said, his voice low and rough. “But you’re making it hard to decide if I want to punish you for interrupting me or reward you for being this irresistible.”

Your cheeks flushed, but you didn’t falter. “Can’t you do both?”

Rafe let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as if in disbelief. “You’re such a brat,” he muttered, but there was no bite to his words—only amusement and something softer that made your chest tighten.

He leaned in again, his lips brushing against your neck this time, and the teasing graze of his teeth made you shiver. “You drive me insane, you know that?” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

You smiled, threading your fingers through his hair. “Good.”

Rafe’s laugh was muffled as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck, and you could feel the warmth of his smile against your skin. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do with you,” he said, though his hands sliding up to your waist seemed to suggest he had a few ideas.

“Guess you’ll just have to figure it out,” you teased, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze.

He shook his head again, but the affection in his eyes was undeniable. “You’re lucky I love you,” he said, his voice quieter now.

Your breath caught at his words, and for a moment, the playful atmosphere shifted into something deeper. “Yeah?” you asked softly, your hand drifting to his cheek.

Rafe nodded, his expression unguarded in a way that made your heart ache. “Yeah,” he said simply, leaning into your touch.

The tension shifted into something softer, more vulnerable, as Rafe leaned into your touch. Your fingers brushed against the stubble on his jaw, your thumb tracing a gentle line across his cheekbone. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, like he was savoring the quiet intimacy between you.

“You’re lucky I love you too,” you murmured, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Rafe’s eyes snapped open, and his expression was a mix of surprise and something else—relief, maybe, or gratitude. “You mean that?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yeah, I mean it.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of the moment settling between you. Then Rafe broke into a grin, one so genuine it made your stomach flip.

“Well,” he said, his tone teasing but warm, “guess I really can’t let you go now.”

You laughed softly, your hands sliding back to his shoulders. “Not that you ever could,” you shot back, your confidence returning.

Rafe smirked, his hands tightening on your waist. “No, I couldn’t,” he admitted, leaning in to kiss you again. This time, the kiss was slower, more deliberate, like he was taking his time to memorize every detail.

As his lips moved against yours, his hands roamed, trailing up your sides and settling just beneath the hem of your shirt. His touch was warm, and the gentle press of his fingertips sent a shiver down your spine.

“Still think I should’ve stayed focused on my workout?” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and teasing.

“Maybe,” you replied, your smile evident even as you kissed him again. “But this is way more fun.”

Rafe chuckled, pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against yours. “You’re trouble,” he said again, though his tone was laced with affection.

“Good trouble,” you corrected, grinning up at him.

“Yeah,” he agreed softly. “The best kind.”

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credits: @dollywons for the png!