#gym era

[bitter-and-dumb]

Okay I've had my goal skinny body now I want my goal built body

[dearharriet]

Sunday-Side-Up; James Potter 🍳

summary: you’re worried on the morning after a hookup with your friend, james

word count: 2.3K

warnings: pg-13 smut, sexually implicit content, fem!r, beefy/gym!james, pre-relationship, getting together, hurt/comfort(ish), fluff

note: this is technically an addition to sunday, another gym!james fic that I wrote, but u can read it as a standalone if u wish! u can find the request here

An egg simmers and pops in the buttery pan on the stove, mirroring your calamitous heart. It’s all you can look at. A rogue explosion of butter lands on the skin of your hand, but you hardly even flinch, just staring and staring at the pristine yolk in its sea of bubbling white.

Back in your room, harbored by your stuffed animals and rumpled sheets, is your good friend, James. Though you aren’t sure if you could call him as such anymore, considering the less-than-friendly activities you’d partaken in the night before.

How had you let yourself cave like that?

Outside, the sun is calmly rising, paying no mind to your frivolous human thoughts. It scores over the trees surrounding your apartment and lands sharp and warm on your cheeks. You ignore it as best you can, putting all the early energy you have into protecting the little sun you’re cooking.

Your attraction for James was never much of a secret, nor was his for you, but you always assumed there was nothing to be done about it. He’s one of your best friends and most coveted confidants, and losing him includes losing the other two of him, too. It was a silent agreement, you thought.

Until last night, of course, when he’d finally broken and asked to kiss you over a box of takeout.

“I really can’t stand to be alone with you and sit on opposite sides of the couch and pretend that that’s normal,” said James, one hand fisted over his knee. “I feel I’ve gone mad, a bit, trying to dance around this.”

You’d have liked to say you found that a little bit dramatic, but you felt the same way. Being with James was like walking on eggshells, sometimes. Even though you felt quite at home with him, there were still boundaries to maintain. You constantly had to double back, to reel yourself in before you said something too flirty or touched him longer than was necessary. It was exhausting and disappointing. You were tired of being disappointed.

So upon your permission, James had followed you to your room, and he hadn’t held back.

You can’t say you regret it, but you’re certainly worrying. There’s reasons you had boundaries in place, reasons that both you and James resisted the magnetism that pulls you together, and they’re all in the wind now.

If you lost James, lost your friendship…

Carried away with emotions, you push at your fried egg too hard, shaking the buoyant yolk out of its membrane.

“No,” you whine, gripping the offending spatula in your hand. It’s all you can do to watch the yolk seep over the crispy whites surrounding it, spilling onto the hot pan with a sizzle.

“What’s a’matter?”

Your eyes whip over to the kitchen entryway, finding James in a sick state of undress, a pair of boxers low on his hips and glasses crooked where they perch on his nose. Like he’d gotten up to find you before getting dressed, hardly remembering he’d need glasses to do so.

You tell yourself you’re projecting, returning your greedy gaze to the sad situation on the stove. James’ broad chest and muscled thighs creep into the back of your mind for safekeeping anyway.

He comes up behind you, peering easily over your shoulder to gauge what the problem is.

“I broke the yolk,” you tell him, as if it’s not obvious.

James grunts darkly, as if to agree that this is a very grave occurrence. Still, his voice is as comforting as it is gravelly when he responds.

“Well, flip that one and it can be mine. I don’t like sunny-side.”

Turning to glance up at him, you frown. “I thought you did?” You could swear you’ve seen him eat his eggs that way before.

Lips pursing in a shy almost-smile, James relents. “Well, yes, I do. But not strictly. I’ll eat whatever—‘specially if you make it.”

You turn your frown back to the pan, saying nothing. James takes the moment of silence to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling your back flush against his bare chest. The sleep shirt you’d thrown on feels thinner than the broken yolk membrane, letting all of James’ warmth strike you right in the heart. It’s almost too much for you to handle.

Correction, it is too much for you to handle.

Reaching down, you peel James’ hands off of your torso, wincing the whole way through. He backs off, easily taking the hint, but when you glance his way he looks befuddled.

“Um.” James averts his gaze to the floor, clearly knocked down by your rejection. “Have I misread something?”

“No, I’m sorry, I—“

You sigh, realizing this discussion needs more attention than you currently have to spare. In quick movements, you flick the stove burner off and move the pan to one that’s not hot, and then you turn your full effect on James.

Standing in front of you, undressed and muscled and reproachful, James looks embarrassed beyond measure.

“It’s nothing you did, James, I just—I’m not sure last night should’ve happened, is all.”

Picking at your lips worriedly, you await his response, but it’s nothing like you expect. You thought he’d turn sly or charming, convince you that it was worthwhile. James’ eyes blow wide and concerned instead.

“You didn’t want to?” The dread in his voice is thick, knocking you back with the sheer force of it. You almost reach out to comfort him, but think better of it.

“James, of course I did, yes. I wanted to.”

James’ broad shoulders relax from their anxious hunch, but his guarded posture still remains.

“What, then? You didn’t enjoy it?”

You huff. “No, James. Will you stop putting words into my mouth? Of course I enjoyed it, it was—“

You pause, trying to describe exactly how it was, but then shake the entire thought off, realizing you’re getting sidelined. James looks hesitantly amused at your clear flush, the short reminiscing enough to fluster you.

“It doesn’t matter,” you assert. “We can’t do it again.”

“We can’t?” James asks, but it sounds more like a challenge.

“No, we can’t. It’d be irresponsible. There’s a reason we held off on this, and you know it.”

“I know why I held off,” says James, and he’s stepping closer, to your dismay. “Why did you, sweetness?”

Your heart lodges in your throat, set off by his name calling and proximity. Bum pressing back against the counter, you suspect the only way to ward James off now is with a long, pointy stick, threateningly waved back and forth.

“Because,” you start, mouth dry, “it would ruin our friendship.”

A laugh booms forth from James’ throat, making you dizzy. You can’t help but watch his chest shake with it, his boxer elastic slipping ever-so-slightly lower, revealing more coarse hair and golden skin.

“Well,” James says, calling your attention back to his face, “I should hope so. I don’t want to be your friend, love. I thought I made that clear last night.”

You open your mouth and then shut it again. This time, you don’t redirect your thoughts as they amble back to the way James touched you last night, to the overwhelming sensation of finally having him, of being had.

James’ hands find purchase on the counter behind you, caging you between his arms, and you’re sure he knows exactly where your mind’s gone.

“Is that what you want, hm?” he asks, voice rasping with pure desire. “To be friends?”

You swallow. James’ heady scent is spilling over you in waves, which you typically have no trouble with, but you're not prepared for your smells to waft off of him, too. One night in your bed and he’s covered in you, head to toe. You can’t deny how much you enjoy the thought.

He’s so fit. It’s all you can think about with his tanned chest in front of your face, his big arms skimming yours. You know James likes the gym, but you never expected him to look like this.

Now that you’ve touched him, it’s like a dam broke inside you for good. It’s all too easy to reach for him, brushing light fingertips over his soft stomach and his v-line, the happy trail that’s bewitched you.

Finally, your hands push up, up, up his chest, over his pecs and shoulders until you’re looking into his expectant gaze. Had he said something?

“No,” you mumble, voice distracted. “No, I don’t want to be friends.” An incredulous laugh escapes you. “Obviously.”

“Obviously,” James repeats, grinning like a child with candy.

You run your hands down his front again, intoxicated with the feel of him under your fingers.

“I guess I’m just a little worried about how this will change things,” you tell him, anchoring yourself to his waist. Pulling him closer.

“It doesn’t have to change anything, if we don’t want it to.”

That makes you smile a bit, his talking about the two of you like a pair, a unit. Still, it’s misguided.

“That’s a bit naive, don’t you think? I mean, something’s changed.” You make a point to emphasize the state you’re both in, the proximity.

James grins wickedly. “Well, that’s the good stuff, love. I only meant we don’t have to tell Remus or Sirius, at least until we’re ready. We don’t even have to go on dates, if you don’t want. We can just be like really, really good friends.”

This simultaneously makes you want to laugh and cry. Your expression settles on what is probably pensive, or indistinguishable.

“I’d want to go on dates…,” you mumble, suddenly feeling very bashful.

James’ whole demeanor seems to flip on its head. Before, he was feigning casualty, like he’d be down for anything. Now he’s all business, locked in on you.

“Yeah?” James asks, his voice unbearably tender. His hands abandon the counter for your hips, kneading the soft skin hidden under your sleep shirt.

“Yeah,” you confirm, breathless. “James, I want this to be more than sex.”

Brows furrowing, James levels you with a curious look.

“Is that what this is about? You think I only want to shag you?”

Embarrassed, you start to shrink away from his examining eyes, only to remember he has you cornered. You settle for the alternative and shove your face into the crook of his neck, groaning.

“Don’t tease me about this, James. Not this.”

“Not teasing, lovely, no. I only want to understand.” James' hand takes up in your hair, spinning it around his fingers and releasing it again and again. His voice is a calm wash now, quiet and raspy. “Is that what had you so worried?”

Reluctantly, you nod as best you can without braining yourself on his jaw or yanking your hair in his grip. James clicks his tongue.

“Can I have a look at you?”

His hand encourages your head back carefully, until his hazel eyes have yours pinned under them, like moths under a kitchen glass. Your face fits between his palms, hot-cheeked and sensitive, hoping he’ll say something to make you feel like less of a fool.

“D’you know why I didn’t try to do this before?” James doesn’t let you answer, bulldozing right through with a nervous sort of energy. “It’s ‘cause I knew I didn’t deserve you. I mean—what?”

You can’t stop your laugh. You’re doubled over into James’ shoulder again, laughing like a prick while he’s trying to be vulnerable with you, but honestly, could you blame yourself?

“What are you talking about, ‘not deserving’ me? You’re so bizarre.” You pull back from him, rosy and amused. Despite being made fun of, James seems to be in light spirits, smiling along with you.

“What’s so bizarre about it? You’re gorgeous and funny and good for me and I don’t deserve it.” He shrugs. “Anyone with eyes can see that.”

“I’m good for you, am I?” you repeat oddly, feeling admittedly tingly and giddy from his admission.

“Well, yeah, love. You make me happy.” James’ voice drops a decibel, dangerously sweet and whispered close to your lips. “Even when you’re laughing at me while I tear my chest apart to make you feel better.”

That only makes you laugh again, and this time James presses his smiling mouth over yours.

You soak in his kiss, coaxing his bed-warm body as close to yours as possible until you’re two sides of the same coin. James pushes his hands further up the back of your shirt, relishing in the expanse of bare skin there, and you take his bottom lip between your teeth in response.

Heaving a sound between a laugh and a moan, James takes his bitten mouth down your throat, laving over marks he’d left mere hours before.

You tilt your head, happy to give him more access, only to find your sorry abandoned egg where you’d left it.

“Oh, we forgot about breakfast,” you stress, reaching for the stove with no real purpose. James catches your hand to bring back to your scene together.

“Forget about it,” he mumbles into your skin, “I’ll cook you som’thin later. Right now I want you back in bed.”

You hum, easily agreeing, though you can’t help your other needs, even as James hikes your legs up and around his waist.

“A sunny side egg, please? With jam on toast?”

Laughing into your mouth, James walks you both out of the kitchen blindly.

“Yeah, pretty girl, whatever you want.”

He aims for another kiss, hot and barreling fast around the corner into carnal, but you pull back one more time before he can get carried away.

“And James?”

“Yeah?”

You can’t believe how handsome and strong he is, or that his strength and good looks are quickly becoming yours to enjoy. Splaying a wide hand over his cheek, you make sure he catches the full weight of your next statement, sweetly murmured into his reddened lips.

“You make me happy, too.”

James’ responding smile outshines the rising sun.

+

thank you for reading! xx

masterlist

[chai-berries]

abby kneeling down to tie your shoes in the middle of a training session.

abby’s hangs lingering on your back and ass as she helps you do weightlifting.

abby swatting your ass with her towel. you swatting her right back making her let out a yelp.

you and abby taste testing each other’s protein shakes. hers are packed with nutrients and vanilla or chocolate while yours taste like fucking skittles <3 whatever gets the job done is all i’m gonna say

while you’d prefer to be attached at the hips and barely getting work done, you and abby have to part from each other as she goes into more strength training while you take the morning pilates class. but you meet up later to fuck around in the boxing ring. and when i say fucking around i mean y’all are like two teen girls in gym class misusing the equipment as you pretend to be 1970s boxers with a beef.

gym days with abby <33333

[poleriri]

this is your time to start working on yourself.

[futurequibblerjournalist]

Barty doesn’t bottom for evan

say that to his loose bumhole lmaoooo thanks for the microfic inspiration anon!

Straw blonde hair curled around dark brown fingers as Evan pulled back Barty's head. The sound of skin slapping together against one another could barely be heard over the sound of the man moaning shamelessly. Lanky legs shook as they spread around Evan's form, the rest of his emaciated body bent over the dining table in whatever way had come easiest when Evan had first grabbed him.

"Fuck, Rosie.. so good," the man let out, his lips twitching upwards in a pleased expression. As his hair was pulled, the man followed, allowing him the closeness Evan had been robbing him of so far.

Sweat already laced Evan's skin, as well as the clothes he'd barely taken off. Loose grey sweatpants had been shimmied down to expose his cock and they were now paying the price of their hurry with the few stains lingering in the fabric.

At the opportunity, Barty buried his face in Evan's neck as much as the position allowed him, inhaling deeply.

"You smell so fucking good," he purred, nipping at a stretched earlobe. Golden eyes rolled as they watched, meeting blue only briefly before roughly gripping Barty's whorish waist. With a quick move the freckled man was bent over the table again, regular thrusts returning.

"You're such a pervert. Getting turned on by smelling me, all sweaty and shit.." he trailed off. Despite his mocking, a groan left Evan—somewhat of a rarity from the otherwise silent man.

He'd let his head fall backwards and a breath left him as he did so, feeling the warm insides of his boyfriend stretch to accommodate his every move. It was clear Barty was eager to keep him as deep as possible by the way he clenched around Evan each time he pressed himself balls deep into him.

A hand travelled downwards and a poorly stifled laugh left Barty. Pale, slender fingers found the bulge in his stomach, rubbing it every time it appeared.

"I can't help it, Rosie," he insisted. "Besides, you're the one, heh, who came home and bent me over the table. In the middle of the k-kitchen too. Naughty, naughty, Ev."

He'd expected it, the way Evan's grip tightened around his hair, tugging at it again.

"Only because you were sending me pictures, like some damn whore."

A sound similar to a giggle left the man pressed against the table and he clenched around his boyfriend once more.

"Mhm, your whore," he urged.

It was subtle, the twitch Evan's hips offered, but it made Barty push his hips back further, meeting each thrust the man delivered. His words turned to moans, muddled and incomplete.

The hand that had rested on his stomach moved to find Evan's hand, the one that rested on his waist, and he pulled it upwards to inhale the sweaty smell lingering at his wrist. It was almost embarrassing how fast he came after that, jerking his hips while thin streaks of white decorated their dining table.

Evan licked his lips at the sight, showing little mercy as he continued to ram into Barty before a similar splash of white filled up the insides of a man that had already taken to begging for more.

[tielmamon]

Geraskier Modern AU wherein Geralt is a single dad who owns a tattoo shop and has a massive crush on his daughter's vocal coach and Ciri just wants another dad to spoil her

[failyaoi]

younger but taller Kung Lao. they mean the world 2 me

[saydesole]

Get up and head to the gym 🤸

[kirameal]

[sexymoonmansslut]

gym bro james ‼️

and ofc reg was just stating the whole time

[emjava-art]

so wHO'S AFRAID OF LITTLE OLD ME???

Well, you should be ! ... New stickers on my shop💕

[chai-berries]

and the category is: things abby would do if you were her gf

no but for real. her being oblivious to anything besides her workout. that’s so accurate. she’s in the zone and once she’s out of it she reads your texts and sees red. and the whole “she’s on the hunt” like no you don’t get it she is!!! it’s canonical that abby can hunt someone down. and for that brief but also the longest two and a half minutes of her life, she’s ready to do anything. but then she finds you and you’re laughing. you’re laughing!!!! you could have died and you’re laughing!!!! :((((( you coo at her and apologize for joking around. the relief in her body sets in but her heart is still pounding. but you’re safe. it was just a joke. she cracks a grin. “c’mere. give me your bag and your hand, i’m not losing you twice in one day,” she pulls you close to her. “how about you pay me back by buying me a smoothie from the bar” she whispers next to your ear before kissing your cheek. you wrap your free hand around her arm and press smiley kisses into her shoulder. “sure, my sweet huntress.”

[poleriri]

[sandviart]

I miss The Eras Tour so much!😭 I'm still obsessed with her dress and her performance in The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived.

[futurequibblerjournalist]

dorcas meadowes < 3

serving office siren since the 70s

[knifeslidez]