#kinda like my treadmill thoughts

[frownyalfred]

normal people use the sauna to relax but today mid-sauna session I had the crushing realization that I needed to rewrite at least 5k of my new fic draft and I wasn't allowed to have my phone in there so I was stuck sweating for 30 minutes just re-doing it all in my head trying not to scream...really got the heart rate up, I'll say that.

[genderfluid-druid]

dissociating at the gym is a great way to cope when you have a lot of nervous energy and/or emotions to process, but watch out bc sometimes the processing you need to do is cry

[harrysfolklore]

i’ve always loved the piastri sis lore because the sibling dynamic is so healthy but just to switch it up a little bit in the tiny verstappen!sis universe i can imagine her skipping out on the WDC celebrations with max and be with charles instead and max is a little mad at her at qatar until kelly knocks sense into him 🥰

verstappen!sister was one of the first f1 fics i ever posted 🥺🥺 its kinda heartwarming that you guys still remember it and want to read more about them! it was nice to take a dip into that little world agai, i hope you like this!

READ VERSTAPPEN!YN HERE

The neon lights of Las Vegas blurred through as you rushed through the paddock, your heart torn between two directions. Behind you, the thunderous celebration at Red Bull's garage continued – your brother Max had just sealed his fourth world championship. Any other day, you'd be right there, spraying champagne and screaming until your voice gave out.

But right now, all you could think about was Charles.

You found him in the Ferrari cooldown room, still in his race suit, head in his hands. He looked up when you entered, those green eyes stormy with frustration.

"Mon coeur," he whispered, and despite his evident pain, his lips curved into a small smile at the sight of you. "You're here."

You crossed the room quickly, wrapping your arms around him. He buried his face in your neck, breathing deeply. "Of course I'm here. Always."

"I had it," he mumbled against your skin. "I had the pace, the position... everything. Then they called me in at the worst possible moment—" His voice cracked slightly.

You ran your fingers through his hair soothingly. "I know, baby. I watched the whole thing."

Charles pulled back slightly, cupping your face with both hands. "You should be celebrating with Max, though. It's his championship. I don't want to take you away from that."

"You're not taking me anywhere," you said firmly, pressing your forehead to his. "I choose to be here."

He kissed you softly, gratefully. "Je t'aime. What did I do to deserve you?"

"Existed," you smiled against his lips. "Come on, let's get you out of here."

As you were leaving the cooldown room, hand in hand with Charles, you nearly collided with Max in the corridor. Your brother was still in his race suit, championship cap askew, smelling of champagne and victory.

"YN?" His voice was smaller than usual. "Where were you? Everyone was asking... we were all celebrating and you just disappeared."

Guilt twisted in your stomach. "Max, I'm so sorry, I—"

"She was with me," Charles said quietly, squeezing your hand.

Max's face fell slightly, though he tried to hide it. "Oh." He looked between you both, jaw working like he was trying to find the right words. "I thought... it's the championship, YN. Our fourth championship."

"I know," you said, stepping forward to hug him tightly. "And I'm so, so proud of you. You were incredible out there. But Charles needed me."

Max returned the hug, but you could feel the tension in his shoulders. When he pulled back, his expression was complicated – hurt mixed with resignation.

"Sure, whatever. Stay with your boyfriend." He shook his head, jaw clenched. "It's fine. Not like it's my fourth world championship or anything."

The sarcasm in his voice cut deep. Before you could respond, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving you and Charles standing in the corridor.

The next morning, you found Max in the hotel gym, pounding away at a treadmill despite probably being hungover from the celebrations. You knew your brother well enough to recognize when he was working out his frustrations physically.

"Max," you called out softly.

He didn't look at you, just kept running. "Shouldn't you be with Charles?"

"Can we talk? Please?"

He jabbed at the treadmill controls, slowing to a stop. When he finally turned to face you, his expression was guarded. "About what? About how you ditched your own brother's championship celebration to comfort your boyfriend? Because he finished P4?" He grabbed his towel, wiping his face roughly. "Real nice, sister."

"That's not fair and you know it."

"Kelly already gave me the whole speech last night, you know," he said, "Something about 'understanding love' and 'being supportive' and how she'd do the same for me."

"And?"

"And I told her she's supposed to be on my side," he said, but there was less heat in his voice than before. "She just laughed at me."

You sat down on a nearby bench, and after a moment, he joined you. "I'm still mad," he admitted. "And it's still weird as hell that my sister is dating Charles bloody Leclerc of all people."

"Could be worse," you tried. "Could've been Lewis."

"Don't even joke about that," he groaned, but you caught the tiny smile he tried to hide. His face turned serious again. "Kelly made some good points though. About how she'd choose to be with me if I was struggling after a race, even if it meant missing something important. Still doesn't mean I like it."

"I really am sorry about disappearing like that."

"I wanted my sister there," Max's voice cracked slightly. "You've been there for every important moment in my career. Every single one. Until yesterday. It's like ever since you started dating him, I'm losing my little sister bit by bit."

"You're not losing me, Max. You're my brother, nothing will ever change that. But Charles...I love him."

Max was quiet for a long moment. "You really love him that much? It's that serious?"

"Yeah," you whispered. "It is."

He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. "I still don't like it. And I'm still mad about yesterday." He paused, then added grudgingly, "But I guess I need to get used to sharing you. Just... don't disappear on me like that again, okay? I had to listen to Helmut asking if you were sick or something. Do you know how awkward it was explaining that my sister was too busy consoling a Ferrari driver to celebrate with us?"

"Did you actually tell him that?"

"No, I told him you had a headache. You're welcome, by the way." He paused. "But seriously, YN. I get that you love him or whatever—" he made a face at the words, "—but you're still my sister."

"And you're still my annoying big brother," you leaned against his shoulder. "So... fourth championship, huh? Getting a bit boring now, isn't it?"

"Never," he grinned, then added more seriously, "Would've been better with you there though."

"I'll make it up to you. Plus, there's still family dinner tonight."

"Yeah, about that..." Max's expression turned mischievous. "I might have told Mom to make that really spicy Indonesian dish Charles couldn't handle last time."

"Max!"

"What? If he's going to be family, he needs to build up his tolerance," he said innocently. "Besides, it's payback for making me miss my sister at my championship celebration."

"You're impossible."

"Yeah, but I'm a four-time world champion impossible brother," he smirked, pulling you into a headlock like when you were kids. "And don't you forget it."

[misctf]

My friend is such a stuck up jock, never indulging in fatty foods or beer and always watching his calories, can you show him whats its like to live a little and let go?

“Look, you need to get this thing off me!” Mike begged, pulling desperately at the bracelet around his wrist, “Seriously, bro!”

You were still staring at the jiggling mass of fat that hung over your friend’s waistline. Just a minute ago, his firm abs were on full display. But now? Now he was sporting a jiggly beer gut. His eyes filled with panic.

“I don’t think I can.” You replied, staring at the bracelet.

You barely remember how you came into possession of it. You and your buddies were down in New Orleans, celebrating Tom’s bachelor party. Mike was getting on your nerves though- constantly turning down beers, cigars, or any fun thing that went against his strict lifestyle. For fucks sake, it was a bachelor party. Would it have killed Mike to chug a beer with his bros? You recall drunkenly walking back to your apartment, but getting sidetracked in a pawn shop. And in your drunken state, you told the owner everything. How annoying Mike was being. How you wished he would stop being so judgmental. That you wish he could live a little and let go. And that’s how you come into possession of this bracelet. A solution to your problems, as the pawn shop owner said.

“But... It will come off in a week.” You reassure, “But in that time, anything you judge others for will be reflected back on you.” You believe that’s what the pawn shop owner told you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck...” Mike cursed as he poked his new beer gut, his finger sinking into the fatty mound, “This can’t be happening...”

Mike could barely believe what he was looking at. Years dedicated to exercise, healthy eating, and a strict lifestyle undone in mere minutes. All because he said Tom needed to lose the beer gut. For years, Mike sported a set of perfect abs and firm, clean-shaven pecs. His arms were toned and sculpted. His brunette hair perfectly styled. His perfect smile and hazel eyes could melt hearts. And while most of these remained, the large ball of flash that covered his abs felt totally unnatural and foreign to him.

“I need to go.” Mike said, “I need to go to the gym.” You told him that he shouldn’t, but he quickly grabbed his gym bag and left.

Mike wiped the sweat from his brow as he paused his treadmill run early. He couldn’t stand the feeling of his gut jiggling as he ran. Each movement reminding him of this new, unwanted growth. He placed a hand on it and bit his lip. Had it gotten bigger? He groaned and hopped off the treadmill, heading back to the locker room.

“Just a week.” He thought, “Will it even reverse though?” He thought dejectedly.

He entered the locker room, trying to calm his thoughts and made his way to the changing area. As he turned the corner though, he collided with another man, the two of them stumbling back. And when the shock of their collision subsided, Mike got a glimpse of the guy.

“My bad bro.”

“Yeah...” Mike wasn’t sure he ever saw someone so hairy before.

The man’s pits were overflowing with hair. His chest and back covered in curly, unruly hair. His beard long and thick. Mike wondered how someone could live like that. He always kept himself clean-shaven and he figured it helped show off his muscles. Too much hair was kinda gross. He watched as the man left and Mike quickly grabbed his bag. And as he passed a mirror, he froze.

“Oh my god...” Mike’s hand shot to feel the beard that now covered his face, “No way...”

The mess of curly chest hairs that rose above his collar made his stomach churn, and he lifted his shirt. As expected, his new gut now sported a thick treasure trail that traveled to his now hairy chest. Even his pits were filled with a forest of wet, musky, and tangled hairs. He quickly fled back to the apartment, slamming the bathroom door behind him.

“You good?” You asked, hearing the electric razor.

There was no response. And after a few minutes, Mike exited the bathroom. Your eyes widened when you saw your newly hirsute friend.

“The razor didn’t work...” Mike frowned, as tears threatened to fall, “I...”

“You’re staying indoors.” You say.

______

The next few days you barely see Mike. He barely left his room. You figured he was playing it safe. Besides, he had one day left of this bracelet curse. You hear him rummage through the fridge.

“Hey man.” You say, looking up from your videogame, “You good?”

He just glares at you, “I have a virtual work meeting.” He says, “See you later.”

Mike sits down at his computer, logging into the meeting. He forces a smile as people comment on his new beard. And as the meeting continues, he can’t help but wonder how some of the people even landed a job in business. Some of them were incredibly lazy and didn’t even try. He would even say some just didn’t have the smarts for it. Mike didn’t realize the impact his thoughts were having on him. His bright eyes dulled, and his mind wandered as the meeting progressed, no longer caring about the confusing numbers and figures on screen.

“Mike, do you have those figures we asked for?”

“Uh figures?” Mike asked, “Uh yeah, I think... let me see...” But he struggled to find them. And even when he did, he fumbled through his explanation of them. He could tell his boss was pissed.

“Mike, when you get back to the office, I’d like to talk to you.” He said.

Mike’s heart sunk. He needed this job. Yet, did he even care about it? It was so boring, right? The meeting ended and the young man groaned, ruminating on his performance. Yet, his thoughts felt somewhat slower. A text message broke his train of thought.

“Hey Mike,” Chad says, “A few of the guys are hitting the bar, you interested?”

Mike can’t help but wonder if that’s all they do- go to the bar and drink. Chad and his work buddies always seemed to go to the bar after work. It was kind of ridiculous.

“No, I’m good.” Mike replied. But as he sat there, he felt thirsty. Not for water or a protein shake. No...

“I could really go for a beer.” He mumbled, “Wait... no...” He continued, “I don’t drink...” But the thought of a nice cold beer at the bar seemed like a good idea, “Fuck it, I deserve one after all this shit. Not like it’ll make a huge difference.” He said, looking down at his gut.

He quickly changed into a more comfortable pair of clothes and headed out. You only realized he left when the door slammed behind him.

______

The bar next to your apartment was bustling. Apparently, there was a big event happening that night. But Mike couldn’t care less. He was just enjoying the ice cold beer, wondering why he ever gave the stuff up. And as he enjoyed his beer, he couldn’t help but overhear the conversation next to him. Two guys, who Mike assumed were gay, were rating guys in the bar.

“Dad bods are like totally in.” The one said, “I don’t care what anybody says.”

“Oh you’re so right, sis.” The other replied, “I’m so excited for the show tonight.”

Mike couldn’t help but chuckle. Dad bods? Really? Women were totally into his firm muscles and abs. The way they ran their hands down his firm muscles or rested their heads on his firm pecs. Yeah, whoever said dad bods were in must’ve been smoking something. Mike shifted as his pecs sagged slightly with more fat, while his toned arms and legs lost their definition. His back even widened slightly, giving him a bulkier figure. His face became rounder, a new double-chin hidden by his beard. Mike belched as he finished off his beer, scratching at his softer chest.

“Ladies and gentleman!” An announcer called out, “Welcome to our Pride Night!” He said.

Mike groaned. He just wanted a beer. Not a social justice lecture. Did they really need to make a spectacle out of this? But as the man continued to talk, Mike couldn’t help but pay more attention. As he talked about gay rights, Mike smiled. And when he realized the two gay men from earlier were checking him out, he grinned and gave them a wink. One walked over and grinned.

“Hey daddy.” He said, rubbing his hand along Mike’s hairy forearm. The feeling incredibly pleasurable.

“And now, give a warm welcome to our main event!”

Mike watched as several nearly nude men strutted out onto stage. A few entered the audience to interact with the crowd, while others walked over to the poles on stage and began their dance. The crowd was cheering, while Mike watched on with mixed emotions. Part of him found a growing attraction to these men, while another part was disgusted. Pole dancers? How desperate did you have to be?

“You could totally pull it off.” The guy said.

“You think so?” Mike said, the thought of pole dancing becoming more appealing in his shrinking brain.

And before he knew it, he was lifting his shirt above his head. He quickly pulled his pants off too, revealing his barely contained bulge in his tight underwear. The gay man next to him cheered and ran a hand through Mike’s hairy chest.

“Oh? What do we have here?” The announcer said, noticing Mike, “Come on up!”

And Mike did. Walking up to the pole and starting his dance. Not even noticing the bracelet fall off. The changes remaining in place. And as you entered the bar, having followed Mike, your jaw drops when you saw him. Dancing, drinking- his hairy body on full display. Not a care in the world. When the event finally winds down, you find Mike talking with a few of the other dancers. When he sees you, he grins.

“Hey hun!” He gushes, “Guess what?”

“Mike?” You ask, “I... uhhh....” You notice the missing bracelet.

“I got a job! Isn’t that great?”

You have so many things you want to say. So many questions you want to ask. But as Mike grabs another beer and chugs it, clearly enjoying this new life, your words are lost. And as he flirts with some of the other men, you sigh, grab a beer, and celebrate with him. The bracelet kicked under a table for someone else to find.

[meazalykov]

girl in the ring

salma paralluelo x fem!reader

summary: salma didn't think that she would meet the love of her life at the gym

warnings: none, just reader being a huge flirt

the gym is quiet, just like every other night at this hour. 

the only sounds are the faint hum of the treadmill beneath salma's feet and the rhythmic thuds of your fists hitting the punching bag. 

salma didn't expect to see you here again—though, by now, she kind of hopes every time she comes. it’s been a few weeks, maybe more, since she first noticed you. you’re always in the same spot, hammering away at that bag like it holds all your enemies together or something. 

you’re captivating. the dark green matching set on your body flatters your skin tone-- and it’s becoming harder for salma to keep her eyes to herself. 

she tries to focus on lifting, tries to keep her mind on the routine—bench press, dumbbells, deadlifts—but out of the corner of her eye, she can’t help but sneak glances at you. 

your punches are so precise, sharp, like you’ve been doing this for years. the way your arms flex with each hit, toned and controlled, has her completely hooked.

after she finishes her lifts, salma makes her way to the treadmill for some cardio. 

her heart’s already racing, but she tells herself it's from the workout. the boxing ring is in her view now, and she watches as you climb inside, training with one of the coaches. you’re fast—like, really fast. your footwork is insane, and she’s mesmerized by the way you move, dodging and weaving effortlessly before landing a perfect jab. 

she looks at your fast feet and wonders if you're faster than her. your reflexes are insane, something that would've benefited you if you played football-- salma thought.

she knows she shouldn’t stare, but it’s impossible not to.

salma’s still caught up in watching you when she sees you move out of the rings. you look exhausted, yet content at the same time.

she assumes you’re heading to the locker room, but then you’re suddenly right beside her treadmill, a playful smirk tugging at your lips.

"so... what’s a pretty girl like you doing here at 3 am?" you ask, your tone teasing but warm.

the treadmill was at an incline, so the barcelona winger lowered it so she was at the same ground level as you.

salma feels a flutter in her chest, momentarily startled but recovering quickly with a smile. 

"i could ask you the same thing, beautiful," she shoots back, eyes sparkling with amusement.

you chuckle softly, and there’s something easy about the way you talk to her, like you’ve known each other for more than just these passing glances. 

"fair enough," you say, running a hand through your slightly tangled hair. 

"i’m y/n, by the way."

"salma," she responds, feeling a small wave of relief. you don’t recognize her—no mention of barcelona or the fact that she plays on one of the biggest football clubs in the world. it’s refreshing.

"nice to meet you, salma," you say, and there’s a spark in the way you look at her, like you’re genuinely interested. 

"so, what brings you to a place like this at this hour?"

salma shrugs, trying to play it cool, though your attention is doing things to her composure. 

"i like it when it’s quiet. less crowded. i can actually focus on my workout."

"yeah, same here," you say, leaning casually against the treadmill. 

"plus, no distractions. unless you count the girl who’s been staring at me for the last thirty minutes."

salma’s smile heated up instantly. "i was not staring!" she protests, though her laughter betrays her.

"oh, you were definitely staring," you tease, your grin widening. 

"but don’t worry, i don’t mind. kinda flattering, actually."

salma rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling too. "you’re confident, huh?"

"just observant," you reply with a wink. 

"you know, i don’t usually chat up strangers at the gym, but you’ve got me curious. you’re fit too. wanna grab a coffee after this? or are you one of those girls who have a strict post-gym routine?"

her heart skips a beat, but she tries to keep her cool. unaware that you were feeling the same way.

"i don’t have a routine like that. actually, i was going to ask you if you wanted to grab coffee in the morning."

"why not now?" you counter, raising an eyebrow. "there’s a 24-hour café a couple of blocks from here that i go to. we can grab a drink after we get showers, of course."

salma smirks, finding your spontaneity refreshing. "alright, why not now?" she agrees, feeling an unexpected thrill at the prospect of getting to know you outside this gym.

after both of you shower and change, you head to the small café down the street. the place is cozy, and at this hour, it’s almost as quiet as the gym, with just a couple of people scattered at tables studying for school.

you order your drinks, finding a seat near the window. the conversation flows easily—there’s no awkwardness, no weird pauses.

"so," salma starts, stirring her coffee, "i have to ask. are you, like, a professional boxer or something? you’re really good."

you laugh, shaking your head. "nah, i’m not a boxer. just a hobby, really. it’s my favorite form of working out, but i don’t do it professionally."

salma raises an eyebrow, impressed. "you could’ve fooled me."

"thanks," you say with a small smile. "i’m actually an esthetician. way different from boxing, i know."

"wait, really?" she’s genuinely surprised. "i wouldn’t have guessed that. you seem so... tough."

"hey, i can be tough and take care of people’s skin," you joke, and she laughs, the sound soft and genuine. 

"but yeah, i love what i do. boxing’s just something i picked up because it keeps me in shape and helps me clear my head after a day of extracting blackheads and massaging people."

"i get that," salma nods. "football does the same for me."

your eyes light up in recognition. "football? you play?"

salma hesitates for a second, but then decides to tell you. "yeah, i play for barcelona... i’m a winger."

you blink, taken aback for a moment. "wait, like *that* barcelona?"

she chuckles softly, nodding. "yeah, that one."

"damn," you say, clearly impressed. "that’s really cool."

"thanks," she says, a little relieved that you’re not freaking out over it. "it’s fun. exhausting, but fun."

"i bet," you reply, sipping your coffee. "so, does this mean i’m on a date with a famous footballer?"

she bites her lip, trying not to grin too hard. "maybe. does it bother you?"

"not at all," you answer, leaning back in your chair. "just means i have to step up my game for the second date."

"second date, huh?" she smirks, intrigued.

"if you’ll have me," you tease, your tone playful but sincere.

salma’s heart flutters at the way you look at her, and she can’t help but flirt back. 

"i think i can arrange that. maybe you can come to one of my games. i’ll even get you the best seats."

you grin. "sounds like a plan. just let me know when, and i’ll be there."

the two of you spend the rest of the night talking, laughing, and learning more about each other. it’s easy—effortless, even—and by the time you walk salma back to her car, there’s an undeniable connection between you. 

as she gets in, she pauses, giving you one last smile.

"so, see you at the gym tomorrow night?" she asks.

"wouldn’t miss it," you reply with a wink. "see you around, salma."

and with that, she drives off, her heart racing in a way that has nothing to do with the gym.

my masterlist is here if you want to read more!

[miraclewoozi]

DON'T SWEAT IT. - l.jh

Today — the first time in a small forever that he forgot to check the battery on his earphones (and subsequently had them die on him mid-workout) — Jihoon is forced to notice you.

pairing; lee jihoon x fem!reader.  content; fluff / gym crush au / strangers to lovers / kinda idiots to lovers / smut towards the end (MINORS DNI). w/c; just a breezy 18k- and some change? warnings; swearing, this is only proof read once because if i read it again i was going to lose my mind. please let me know if i've forgotten any. smut tags under the cut ( not sure that this counts as a warning but a heads up: the gym weight units, whenever mentioned, are in kilograms not lbs because i’m british and the metric system, am i right? sorry if there are any other british-isms, i try really hard to avoid them/catch them on a proofread but there are inevitably some that have slipped through the net.  )

note; gym-selfie jihoon, you will never not own my ass. ( screaming internally this is the first fic i've written since my dan + phil youtube era. i don't know what i'm doing. this has been in my wips for about two months. it's a bit all over the place. that's. literally just me. bon appetite. <3 )

smut warnings: making out, grinding, fingering (f rec), oral (f rec), blowjob started/implied (at the end), protected sex (be safe out there gang), little bit of biting, no huge power dynamics? reader & jihoon are both switches (and simps), some use of pet-names (good girl/baby).

—————

He first sees you around lunchtime on an otherwise unassuming Sunday. 

As you walk in, the gym is wonderfully quiet. A handful of regulars mill about, making full use of the rare freedom of the machinery. One of the club’s personal trainers is marching an impossibly steep incline on a treadmill. It could just be any other weekend session in this criminally over-equipped and under-used gym: the town’s worst kept secret. But when the door slams shut behind you, his head jerks up; it, in this moment, is the loudest sound in the room. It’s sort of the only one he hears at all.

Today — the first time in a small forever that he forgot to check the battery on his earphones (and subsequently had them die on him mid-workout) — Jihoon is forced to notice you as he sits with dumbbells rested against his thighs. He catches his breath as he wonders who you are, if you’ve ever been to this gym before, why he doesn’t recognise you. Are you a new potential regular, maybe? Or just visiting the area and making good use of the cheap pay-as-you-go rates? Maybe, he considers, lips turning downwards in thought… maybe you’ve been coming here for a long time and he’s somehow just always been so in his own head that he’s never noticed.

The last, he thinks, is sort of unlikely. No. He would definitely remember a face like yours.

His heart rate slows more than he usually lets it as he finds himself watching you fill up your water bottle at the fountain, taking a long sip on your way over to one of the stairmasters. His brain blanks out when he realises that he’s not just looking anymore, he’s sort of staring, and swallows the saliva on his tongue hard, looking back at the mirror. He doesn’t want to be that guy. He isn’t that guy – he just got distracted by the loud noise, and this is exactly why he checks the damn battery on his headphones before he leaves the house. 

The only problem is that now, he can’t remember how many sets he’s done. He lies back and stares straight into a slightly sketchy light-fixture, neglecting to pick up the dumbbells that he put aside for his next set of pushes. Jihoon adjusts the position of his shoulders against the bench, arches his back off it slightly, digs his heels into the spongy floor beneath them and pushes the ones still in his hands until failure. 

Today, he finishes his routine and leaves the gym without allowing himself so much as another glance your way.

He neglects to notice that your eyes are avoiding him right back. 

—————

You smile at him for the first time on a Tuesday. Not the following one – a week and a bit later.

Seungcheol is with him tonight. Jihoon prefers to train alone nine times out of ten: this is a truth widely acknowledged, accepted and respected among his friends. Gym time is his down time, his equivalent of movie marathons and comfort food, of face masks and glasses of wine. But it’s not a hard rule: occasionally, someone will ask to tag along and use one of his guest passes, and Jihoon very rarely says no. There are two reasons. One, he isn’t actually rude, contrary to approximately eighteen running jokes in the group-chat. But also, it adds a little bit of variety to his otherwise very set-in-stone regimen, and mixing it up doesn’t hurt. Like tonight, for example. Seungcheol is pulling him into the studio off the main gym floor, his own gym bag packed with boxing pads and gloves for them to play with.

Variety.

Jihoon grumbles a little at the idea, at first. He has a very love-hate relationship with cardio, favouring a simple steady-state run over everything else, and it just feels a bit against his moral code to use gym time for something like this. However, he comes to discover very quickly that smacking Seungcheol’s hands is very therapeutic; Jihoon knows he’s maybe getting a little too into it when his friend asks if they can switch around, grimacing and shaking out his wrist after a particularly beefy punch. 

He agrees, albeit reluctantly, tugging off the gloves he’s wearing and pulling on the pads instead.

This half of the activity is considerably less enjoyable for Jihoon; he starts to cool down and loses his flow almost straight away and after about thirty seconds, his breathing is back to normal and he feels ready to go again. Even so, he does what he needs to do to be a good workout partner, and goes one step further into ‘good friend’ territory as he allows Seungcheol to vent about the bad day he had at work in-between hits, offering murmurs and looks of disgust when it feels appropriate. Suddenly, the impromptu request to come to the gym tonight makes much more sense, as does the slightly bizarre choice of activity, but Jihoon tries not to ask about it in too much detail.

They swing at each other for a few more rounds apiece, working up a healthy sweat and getting out a few frustrations as the hour wears on. On the last set, Jihoon switches out Seungcheol’s hands for a punching bag, putting a lot more of his weight behind every hit and really tiring himself out. By the end, his hair sticks to his forehead and his cheeks have flushed bright red; he only stops when he gets that weird, metallic taste in the back of his mouth that says he’s probably overdone it. Again.

“Hit the shower?” Seungcheol asks breathlessly as he finishes his last set of Russian twists and lies down flat on the floor, equally sticky and flushed all over. 

Jihoon pats his face dry with his towel, shaking his head. “You go ahead. I’ll have one at home.” 

He doesn’t give Seungcheol much of a chance to respond, already cleaning down anything he’s touched or managed to sweat on and riding out the high of the endorphins flooding his veins. Secretly, he hasn’t had a cardio session this high energy or this satisfying in a long time. He isn’t going to readily admit to that though.

“Nah, I’ll do the same,” Seungcheol agrees. He starts packing the gear he brought with him into his bag and they leave together after, heading towards the exit. 

That’s when he sees you again. 

He doesn’t notice at first; you’re stowing your things into one of the higher lockers, and you have your headphones slung around your neck as he walks past. It’s the sound of a song he vaguely recognises through your speakers that makes his head snap over from the conversation he’s in the middle of. They walk past at the moment you drop down from your tiptoes, and you flash a small (but insanely pretty) smile at Jihoon.

By the time he manages to process this fact, he’s already walked past you and you’re headed over into the main gym area, so even though he turns around to try and catch your eye, all he sees is your retreating figure. He stumbles over his own feet, not looking where he’s going, and just barely catches himself on Seungcheol’s upper arm before he actually does fall over. His older friend glances down at his bicep before he adopts a look that Jihoon has seen many, many times before: just never directed at him. His cheeks heat up further and he looks away.

“What was that?” Seungcheol asks, one eyebrow so far up his forehead that it’s disappeared almost entirely under his soggy hair. He looks so smug, so incredibly entertained. Jihoon wants to smack that expression off his face, immediately.

“Nothing,” Jihoon rushes, managing not to act on the violent thought even though he wants to. He clears his throat. “No-one. I-... they’re new, I think. I don’t know.”

Seungcheol lets out a soft laugh, pushing the door open for them both to leave through. “Yeah,” he scoffs, eyes glimmering with something Jihoon doesn’t think he likes the look of. “Nothing, my ass.”

—————

Three days later, he hears you speak for the first time.

Granted, you aren’t speaking to him – at least, not at first. But that’s not really what matters.

It’s late, and it’s a Friday night. Fridays are usually Jihoon’s days rest days, but sitting around his apartment had him feeling impossibly twitchy, with far too much energy to burn and no way to do so without leaving the house. And he knows that he needs to take days off, now and again. He knows that they’re good for recovery and that it’s healthy to take time to himself that involves not lifting weights. But what he also knows is that if he doesn’t manage to shake the weird buzzing feeling in his muscles, in his joints, in his veins, he’s never going to get to sleep. So, here he finds himself at almost 10PM, walking down the street to get to the gym.

To begin with, he doesn’t know (or really care) who it is that’s coming up behind him. He can hear quite clearly that the mystery person is on the phone, and that they’re in the middle of what seems to be a rather heated argument: his brain latches onto occasional words, phrases, curses. Every now and again, their voice drops to a deep, frustrated mutter and he cringes slightly, making a point to keep his eyes forward and down so as not to draw attention to the fact that this presumably private conversation has become everything but.

He touches his entry fob to the sensor on the door as he arrives and pushes it open. Jihoon uses the opportunity to stand still, to glance back at whoever it is that’s walked behind him for the past four and a half minutes, and his eyes come to land on you. He falters, noting how your eyes are a bit glassy and your cheeks are stained with what he can safely assume are tear-tracks. In this moment, he wants to run; he doesn’t want anything to do with that, and he certainly doesn’t want to hear any more of your call. It’s none of his business, and he feels plenty weird enough already with what he has overheard. But, for some unknown reason, he stays in place.

“No – no, you don’t get to-...” you hiss into your phone. “It was our fucking anniversary, you asshole.” Jihoon’s face tightens at that, lips drawn between his teeth and his eyes blowing slightly wide. You pass through the door in front of him, flashing a small smile as you go. Another smile, he thinks to himself, but he’d be an idiot to compare them in any way; this one is so dramatically dissimilar to the first, he thinks it could almost have come from a totally different person. 

Unfortunately, there’s nothing ‘insanely pretty’ about it this time. Your smile is tight-lipped and exhausted, slightly apologetic. Maybe even forced. He does try to return a warmer one to you, but he doesn’t know if you notice. 

“Look, I’m at the gym – we’re not doing this right now. I’ll call you later.” You hang up the phone with the kind of sigh that groans in the back of your throat.

A small part of him wants to take this moment and use it to ask if you’re all right, but an even larger part of him doesn’t. It isn’t because he doesn’t care. In a weird way, considering this is only the first time he’s clearly heard your voice and he knows absolutely nothing about you, he does care. But there are a few things that stop him. Not only are you a near-complete stranger, not only would he have no idea what to say to you if the answer happened to come out as a ‘no’, not only is he already coming over a little bit clammy at the thought of having a conversation with you… Jihoon isn’t stupid. He knows from the sound of your voice and the way you’re rather aggressively typing a message into your phone that it’s a ridiculous question.

You’re walking into the gym at 10 o’clock on a Friday night, your eyes literally brimming with tears. Of course you’re not all right.

He’s still standing in the open doorway mulling all this over, but Jihoon only realises when a gust of wind slaps over his calves and sends a draught not only through the reception area, but up the length of his spine. He comes inside fully as you close the locker you’re using – he notices, but he isn’t sure why, that it’s the same one as last time – and throws his things into the one he always uses. Two below and one to the left of yours.

It’s quiet tonight: just the pair of you and one middle-aged guy. Jihoon recognises him as the friendly man who seemingly knows everyone who comes in here – including you, apparently, judging by the way he strikes up a short but energetic conversation. When the other guy walks away, you clamp your headphones back over your ears and return to what you were doing before, occasionally bobbing your head or moving your lips in time with whatever it is that you’re listening to. Jihoon steals little glances at you now and again when you’re in-between sets, watching how you breathe deeper, how your skin glows with sweat as you tap your fingertips against your thighs.

He almost drops the bar he’s holding when you catch his eyes in the long line of mirrors. He turns away, swallowing hard, completely missing how your own gaze lingers.

Jihoon becomes so obsessed with not being caught looking at you again that he doesn’t even notice when you disappear off the gym floor completely. It’s only when he pulls his headphones off at the end of his session and glances around that he registers your absence: your third companion is long gone, and he assumes you must have snuck out without him noticing too. He settles the speakers back over his ears before pulling on an old zip-up, flicking the hood over his head to shelter him a little better once he gets outside. But he’s in no rush to get home so he takes his time, resting his bag between his abdomen and the lockers, replying to a few messages and clicking his tongue at some of the nonsense being spewed into the group-chat. 

He isn’t sure exactly how long he’s standing there for, but he does know precisely what pulls him back to the world outside of the device in his hands.

To begin with, he doesn’t notice you approach, lost completely in his screen. He doesn’t hear your footsteps, or the way you politely clear your throat to announce your presence so he can move out of the way. He misses your moment of realisation that he’s listening to music and has no idea that you’re standing three feet behind him. He doesn’t even see you walk up next to him, your hair still damp from your shower and sitting loose over your shoulders.

It’s only when you try to reach over him to grab the last of your things that he snaps out of his trance. The fragrance of your body wash hits him first, and oh boy, does it hit him. Sweet, and delicate. Then, he gets something beautifully fruity: it’s not a perfume (it doesn’t smell like a perfume), but it’s you. Your shampoo, maybe? A conditioner? He can’t tell. Whatever it is, the combination of fragrances has him feeling like he’s been slammed into by a damn freight train. He drops his bag to the floor, freezing for a second, and then finally moves away just as the little door swings open. 

“I’m so sorry,” he says hurriedly, tugging his hood down and pulling his headphones off completely. “I didn’t even think you were still here.” He can’t shake the smell of you, nor the feeling of your warm frame leaning so close to his own. God, why is his heart pounding like he’s just finished a round of sprints? Why can’t he breathe?

“No – hey, no, don’t be,” you rush, shaking your head. You finally succeed in pulling your coat free and start trying to get it on; Jihoon wonders if you often struggle to find your sleeves like this, if you’re always chasing them around like a puppy after its own tail. He does it too, sometimes. He gets it. It’s cute. “It’s okay. I was trying not to disturb-... I’m sorry.”

“You’re fine,” he tells you. For the first time, he’s able to smile back at you properly. 

Why is it so hot in here, all of a sudden? Do they shut off the air conditioning after hours or something? He’s breaking out in a sweat.

“Call it even?” you suggest shyly, extending out a hand now you’ve managed to get both arms through your sleeves. He looks down at your fingers for a second before reaching to shake your hand once, a semi-firm grip securing the ‘deal’. (He feels a bit like he’s been electrocuted after, but he tries not to make that too obvious).

It goes awkwardly quiet for a moment then, and Jihoon wishes deeply that he had it in him to say something. Anything. But his brain has gone completely empty and apparently, all he knows how to do is stand completely still like a fucking statue. He shifts his gaze from you, to the wall behind you, to the carpet beneath his shoes, all the while tugging at the collar of his sweatshirt as if it might bring him a tiny breath of fresh air. The gentle sound of you clearing your throat has him looking back at your face again though; he assumes for a second that this is maybe you about to announce taking your leave. All the while, he’s cursing himself out in his own head for being totally inept, and he’s not entirely sure that it isn’t written all over his face.

“Alone, today?” you ask, idly fiddling with your zipper and succeeding in taking him by surprise. He really didn’t think you were going to continue this. And yet…

“Hm?” he questions. 

You swallow before answering. “You… the last time, you were with a friend?” you explain, and now it’s your turn to look away. He wonders if you’re a little warm too, if he’s right in what he was thinking about the air-conditioning. 

“Oh. Right.” 

He nods. An annoying train of doubt in his mind wants to know why you’re asking about Seungcheol; if maybe it was him that you smiled at the other night, even though he knows your eyes weren’t looking up at the man he brought with him. He thinks maybe he should be used to these turns in conversation by now – you certainly wouldn’t be the first person to ask if one of his friends is available, after all – but somehow, he isn’t, and he has a slightly bitter taste in the back of his mouth as he goes on.

He really didn’t have ‘you being interested in one of his best friends’ on his bingo card for tonight, that’s for sure. 

“Yeah. I think he’s with his partner, or… I don’t know. I don’t really bring other people, often. That was a one-off.”

You nod silently and Jihoon can’t quite get a read on what that means. He wonders if you’re upset at the revelation of Seungcheol’s partner, or maybe that he doesn’t tag along to every session. Or maybe, maybe, you were just being polite, and you don’t really care what his friend is up to that means he isn’t here. But whatever it is that you’re feeling, you do far too good a job at hiding it; he’s suddenly very overcome with the desire to run, again, except this time he might just bury his head in the sand too for good measure.

“How much were you deadlifting, just then?” you ask in the lull, just as he thinks he might have perfected the best way to say goodbye that doesn’t make him come across as even more of a tool than he probably already has. It throws him off kilter, but somehow, he manages to answer you in reasonable time.

“Oh, God… uh, one… 160?” He says uncertainly. “That’s not… I can do heavier-...” In his mind, he slaps his forehead. “Wait, no, that’s-... I mean, it’s true, but I didn’t mean-...”

You bite back your smile as he talks himself in a circle but Jihoon is too flustered to notice, convinced that he now sounds like every arrogant gym rat on the planet. God, he’s given himself the ick.

“I guessed you could,” you say. 

Oh boy, this freezes him. Mid-thought, mid blink, mid-breath: he’s completely stuck. What does that mean? What does that mean? He only just manages to unstick his now suddenly dry tongue from the roof of his mouth, looking at you with surprised, confused eyes and parted lips. There aren’t any words on them, though. Like a deer in headlights, he just… stares.

“I mean, okay. Come on.” Your eyes visibly drop as you look him over, gaze lingering at his shoulders, his biceps, his waist. “You can get another twenty on that at least, right?”

He doesn’t know how to explain what’s happening to him, but if he thought he was burning up before? It was nothing compared to this, now. And there’s no way you haven’t noticed how everything from the base of his neck to the tips of his ears has suddenly started staining scarlet. He bows his head and pinches his lips tight, wrestling away the train of thought that appears as you drag your bottom lip between your teeth momentarily, still eyeing his arms. God, he’s never felt so overwhelmed in his life. 

“Something like that, yeah,” he strains. He’s trying so hard to be nonchalant, even though he knows all of his personal bests by heart. Deadlift, 195kg. He hit it a few weeks ago: a couple of days before he first saw you.

“Mm. You can tell.”

Jihoon tries to shake off the compliment, but he fails. In equal measure he wishes you’d stop (he doesn’t know how much more blood can rush to his cheeks before he keels over) and never wants you to stop talking. It’s all going straight to his stomach, though, and he doesn’t remember having felt this specific brand of nervous and excited and stupidly shy since he was in high school.

He can hardly keep up. This is the danger zone.

Maybe it’s a bad idea that he says the next thing that comes into his head in a desperate attempt to change the conversation away from how much he can pull. But somehow, his voice doesn’t break when he asks, “are you parked far away?”

What? It’s dark outside, and this part of town isn’t exactly known for its upstanding citizens and pretty flowerbeds.

“Oh,” you say, eyes a little wide. “I’m-... just staying close-by. I walked here.” The space between his eyebrows must crease a little too quickly because you immediately hurry to speak again. “Really. It’s like… not even ten minutes. All main streets. It’s nothing.”

“Ten minutes longer than I’d walk around here at night on my own,” he says lightheartedly. In tone, at least. He’s actually completely serious.

You laugh at that; he lets out a chuckle, too. Now, Jihoon doesn’t believe in fairies but he thinks that if they were real, they’d giggle just like you do. 

With a smile still on your face, you say, “what? A strong guy like you? Come on, now.”

Do you have to keep doing that? Fuck, he’s absolutely done for.

He tilts his head forwards, eyes closed, trying so hard to stop the muscles in his cheeks from lifting in a grin that it becomes a workout in and of itself.

“I mean it,” he says, taking what he hopes is a subtle breath to settle the fluttering in his chest. The next thing he knows, he’s leaning one shoulder against the lockers, a little reminiscent of every douchebag in every teen movie ever made. If he doesn’t think about it too much, he won’t cringe into oblivion until he gets home and replays this interaction over and over in his head instead of going to sleep. “Maybe I’ve just lived here too long. I might be jaded, but it’s still true.”

“How long is too long?” you ask.

“All my life,” he tells you.

“No way?”

“Mm.” A beat. “What about you?”

“I’m just staying with a friend, right now.”

“Oh, right.” He falls quiet again as he remembers the first time he saw you, remembers making the list in his head of all the possible reasons he hadn’t seen you before. The second was true, then.

Why does that feel like the worst possible scenario? He decides not to unpack that here.

“Maybe-...” you start, glancing down at your hands, which have been twisting in front of you for a few seconds now. Your chest inflates, filled with the words you’re about to speak, but only a breath comes out when you shake your head instead of saying them. “No, don’t worry. Scratch that.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, because he thinks that whatever you were about to suggest, there’s not much he would have said no to. He feels like it’s only fair to give you another chance to say it.

But you don’t.

“Yeah, it’s nothing.” You pause. “I… should probably get going.” He glances over your shoulder at the clock mounted on the far wall, squinting to see the time. 11:45.

“Shit. Yeah, me too,” Jihoon agrees. He didn’t realise it had gotten so late, so fast: he’s hardly ever out at this time. Lord, he already knows it’s going to be an open inquisition when he gets back to his apartment. His neighbours, Soonyoung and Seokmin, are about to have a fucking field day. 

But it’s already long past the time he usually goes to bed, so he asks his next question anyway. He still can’t shake the thought of you walking back on your own at this hour. “Do-… you need a ride?” 

He’s not sure if you actually consider it, or just wait a moment before you answer just to be polite. Either way, you end up shaking your head.

“It’s okay. I’ve-… got a call to make, so.” Your voice is a little quieter, lips tweaking up into a regretful half-smile, and Jihoon curses in his own head. How had he forgotten about that? “Thank you, though. Really.”

“Don’t mention it,” he says. “Just… get back safe.”

You smile and nod, taking a step towards the door and Jihoon does the same. He reaches the exit first and holds it open for you; when you’re both out in the street, he suppresses a shiver and looks in the direction of where he left his car earlier. Feeling the full force of the cold, it crosses his mind to ask again if you’re sure about walking home, but you’re already pulling a beanie down over your still damp hair and tapping something into your phone, so he doesn’t say anything.

“I’ll see you around, uh-…” you start to say, only looking back up when you falter, realising that this is the first time you’re about to use his name and it occurs to you both, at the same time, that you haven’t done this part, yet.

“Jihoon,” he introduces himself, lips quirking into a side-smile. His gaze is expectant and you respond to it perfectly. 

“Y/n,” you introduce yourself. 

“See you around, y/n.”

You split off in the opposite direction to where he’s heading. Before he clamps his headphones over his ears for the short walk up to his car, the last thing he hears is the retreating sound of a dial-tone. 

—————

He doesn’t see you then for two whole weeks. 

For the first couple of days, he only idly notices; it’s not a big deal — it’s not like you’re always there when he is, and he’s sure it’s the same vice versa. But he notices your absence, nonetheless. By the end of the first week, he casually wonders if you’ve had a change in schedule. Maybe you’re on a different working pattern, something that means you can’t be there on Monday and Thursday evenings and at 11:45am on Sundays. 

It’s not weird. He only knows this because prior to that first conversation, acknowledging you as you crossed paths by the free-weights became part of his routine. It’s fine that he sort of misses those little interactions, isn’t it?

Maybe you’ve decided to start training ridiculously early in the morning instead? He tried that once. Never again. It then occurs to him, in the middle of a self-enforced rest day as he sits in the dark nursing a headache, that perhaps you’re not well. He sort of wishes he’d had the guts to ask for your number the last time he saw you, now: he thinks he’d check in, see if you were okay, ask how work was going or something. 

Deep down he knows he’d probably actually just be staring at a blank text thread with a ‘casual’ message typed, tweaked a few hundred times, and ultimately unsent. But that’s fine. It’s the thought that counts. 

The next time he sees you isn’t even in the gym, at all. It’s a Sunday afternoon — he finished his morning session, went home, showered, and headed back out into town after some lunch with a few errands to run. He finds himself spoiled with the luxury of a spare few hours to kill and dips into his favourite coffee place, thrilled beyond belief to find that it’s not obnoxiously busy and that there’s only one other person in the queue waiting to be served. 

Oh, he thinks when he looks up from his phone and sees a vaguely familiar set of headphones sitting on top of a definitely familiar mane of hair, standing right in front of him. Oh, shit. It’s you.

Jihoon goes back and forth with himself over it but ultimately decides he probably doesn’t know you well enough to just say hello out in the wild like this, so even though the urge to do so strikes, he holds himself back. It’s agonising, though. He really wants to. 

You step forward to order and he’s typing out a reply to a message in his, Seokmin and Soonyoung’s three-way group chat, in which he’s literally been fighting for his life as of late. He made the mistake of mentioning you in passing a few days ago and ever since, he’s had to vehemently deny that he has developed his first gym crush, insisting that actually, he’s just made a friend. They don’t believe him, because of course they don’t. That would be far too reasonable. Seokmin says that Jihoon wouldn’t be blushing just from saying your name if you were really ‘just a friend’. Soonyoung argues Jihoon wouldn’t have mentioned you at all.

“I’m so sorry — bear with me, just-…” your voice is quiet but Jihoon hears you apologising to the cashier in front of you, and it snaps him clean away from the tiff he’s having with the men who live in his building. He glances up and you’re elbow-deep in the bag over your shoulder, red in the face with your bottom lip pulled between your teeth. He turns his head slightly and sees the small hand-written sign that says the card machine isn’t working, and they’re cash only, today. 

He can hazard a guess at your predicament. 

After another few seconds of you trying to find whatever it is you’re looking for in your bag, he starts feeling bad for you. This, right here, is his own worst nightmare. Should the roles be reversed, he thinks he would’ve just turned around and walked out. It’s exactly why he doesn’t bother with backpacks and satchels day-to-day: if it doesn’t fit in his pockets, he doesn’t take it out with him. The system isn’t perfect but it has saved Jihoon a decent amount of public distress. 

But the roles aren’t reversed, and he has his wallet already in his hand, so… he only gives himself a few seconds to wonder if it’s appropriate before he does the stupid thing anyway.

“Don’t worry — I’ve got it,” he says, stepping around you, pulling out the cash to pay for your order. You’re dumbstruck when you look  at him, head tilted to the side. The person stood behind the counter glances at you, then at him, and back at you; you don’t see this, however, because your eyes haven’t left Jihoon’s face since he appeared — as far as you’re concerned — out of thin air.

“I can’t ask you to…” you start to protest, but your hands have stopped fishing around and he’s moving the cash further towards the barista, who hesitates just a second longer. 

“You’re not asking. I’m offering. I’ve got you.” He says this with such finality that you quite literally can’t argue with him. The lady behind the counter accepts the cash and you nod, shyly, mouthing a thank you. He orders his own drink — an Americano, nothing exciting — and you both go to stand at the other end of the counter while you wait.

“Hi,” you finally say, and Jihoon can’t help but give a small chuckle. 

He doesn’t have anything hugely witty or creative in his arsenal, though, so he comes back with a matching, “hey.”

“How… have you been?” you ask. 

“Can’t complain, really,” he says. “Are you okay? I haven’t seen you around for a few weeks.” Oh, God — the second the words are out of his mouth, he wishes he could take them back. Why did he have to add that last part? Why didn’t he just leave it at the question? 

“Yeah — about that,” you breathe, ducking your head to conceal the heat that’s spreading over your cheeks. “You know how I said I was staying with that friend?” He nods, and you continue. “I was waiting for some stuff to get sorted out with an apartment and it all finally got resolved, so… I’ve been moving my stuff over to a new place.”

Jihoon feels his heart sink for a moment, but he keeps his expression pleasant and engaged. His fingers threaten to give him away as they fiddle with the aglet on the drawstring of his sweatpants. 

“Sounds tiring,” he says lightly, and you laugh again, nodding. It’s odd, having his heart taking residence low in his stomach and somehow also in his throat, all while hammering away at a mile a minute. All the caffeine in the world couldn’t have this effect on him. “Is it going okay so far?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “It’s a process, but… it’ll be worth it.”

The barista behind the counter announces herself by clearing her throat and slides your drinks across the marble surface with a little glimmer in her eye. Jihoon picks them both up, extending yours out to you. There’s a pause (in which he swallows a large helping of self-doubt) as he glances to the door, working through several combinations of his next words in his mind before he looks back at you. 

“Do you… maybe have ten minutes to sit with these?” He asks. You light up immediately, not even checking the time on any of your devices, nor the wall clock behind your head. He doesn’t let himself think about why it makes him giddy that you’re accepting the offer, just like that.

“Yeah — yeah, sure.” You smile, walking through the lines of tables and sliding into one of the big, comfy chairs by the window. He unzips his jacket and slings it over the arm of the other chair before settling in himself, his long fingers wrapping around the to-go cup. The drink warms his perpetually cold palms and he sighs sweetly.

“You must be excited to get into the new place, then?” he asks after taking a sip, letting it heat him up from the inside. It could be argued that this job is already being taken care of, but Jihoon is not about to go there.

“Oh, God yes.” You nod, relaxing back in the seat with your own cup. Jihoon subconsciously leans a little forward in tandem. “It’s been fun staying with my friend, but…” You pause, lips slightly parted, before going on. “Okay, a warning: I’m a terrible person for this, I know. She’s done me a huge favour, letting me stay there — but I can’t deal with how untidy she is. It’s driving me nuts.”

A chuckle bubbles in Jihoon’s chest, cheeks starting to ache as his smile grows and grows. It hasn’t fallen since he sat down opposite you, and doesn’t seem to be going anywhere, any time soon. “That bad?” he asks.

“You have no idea,” you groan, covering your face with one hand. He wishes you hadn’t — he thinks you look quite lovely when you’re all lit up like this. “She doesn’t clean her dishes after she eats — she piles them up in the sink for like, three days. I don’t think she’s used the vacuum the entire time I’ve been there. I keep finding wrappers and packets and mismatched socks everywhere —” 

His snort of laughter rolls off the back of his throat rather ungraciously and he settles back into his chair. You gently bump his ankle under the table with your foot, beaming at him. “I’m serious! I can’t live like this, Jihoon. I can’t!”

The more you speak, the less he can control the fits he’s descended into, and his abs start to ache after a while; there’s desperation in your voice but it’s just wrapped up so cutely in your lighthearted frustration and decoratively tied together with your sunshine smile… he can’t help it — he’s in pieces. It’s okay though, because you’re laughing too: it makes him think of fairies again, and he can picture you with dainty, intricately patterned wings under the soft lighting in the café. He wipes the corner of his eye with the heel of his hand as he starts to calm down, taking a few deep breaths all the way into his stomach.

“You’re so much stronger than I am,” he says.. “I couldn’t deal with that.”

“You know, I had a feeling you’d be a clean person, too,” you say, sipping at your coffee again. “I mean… I’ve never seen you use the gym showers, so I wasn’t sure, but…”

“Hey,” he says, mock-defensively. “I don’t trust the locks, okay? I shower at home!”

Your cup is lifted to your mouth and he can only see you from the nose upwards, but by the creases at the corners of your eyes, he knows you’re concealing a smile behind it as you nod back at him.

Ten minutes turns to twenty and then somehow becomes thirty — Jihoon starts feeling like you’re someone he’s known for years, and not just the person he accidentally ended up paying attention to in the gym just a couple of weeks ago. He bounces off you and you bounce off him. Both of you have long-since finished your drinks, too: there’s no real reason for either of you to still be here.

Except the obvious. 

“So, the apartment,” Jihoon says, leaning forwards again with his elbows resting on his knees. “Is it…?” He makes a few circular gestures with his hands with which he tries to imply something to the effect of ‘local’, or ‘nearby’, but he can’t quite bring himself to say that out loud. You seem to catch on though. Somehow.

Then again, you did say — a few subject changes ago — that Jihoon is on your wavelength. Maybe that’s it.

“About… a fifteen minute walk from here? Give or take,” you say, and his eyebrows shoot up his forehead so fast it’s like they’re on strings, being controlled by someone else. He doesn’t realise for a few seconds, by which point he isn’t even sure how to relax them. 

“No way?” he says, trying to feign nothing more than an idle interest. Obviously, he’s soaring. 

“Yeah. I’ll want to get back training soon, too, so there’s some incentive to get this done quickly. I miss it,” you tell him.

Jihoon comes out with what he says next without thinking. His mouth is moving before fully engaging his brain. It’s the coffee jitters. Apparently.

“Well, if you need any help with anything, I’ve got a car.”

“You’re too sweet,” you say. “I really couldn’t put you out like that, but…”

“You wouldn’t be,” he assures you with a shrug. “If I’m not working or in the gym… I’m never really that busy. It’s up to you, but-… I’d be happy to.”

You bite the inside of your lip for a moment, apparently mulling this over, before wiggling in your seat to pull your phone out of the front pocket of your jeans. You unlock the device and hand it over on a ‘new contact’ screen. 

Jihoon goes completely stupid: he thinks his brain stops functioning as he takes it to put his number in — for a moment, he’s staring dumbstruck, struggling to even remember the order of the digits now he’s under pressure, but it comes back to him eventually. His thumbs dart across the screen and he checks, double checks and triple checks that he’s typed it right before placing it back in your waiting palm. 

His fingertips brush against yours and it tickles, sending small shockwaves up his arms and straight into his chest. You smile down at your phone before glancing up at him.

“You need an emoji,” you tell him, and he raises an eyebrow at you.

“Huh?”

“Everyone in my contacts has one — I’ve been doing this since I was in high-school. You need to pick one, too.”

“Oh, uh-…” Jihoon swallows, and for some reason he’s completely forgotten every single little emoticon option there is. He draws a blank. “I can’t — you pick one for me. I don’t know.”

You narrow your eyes at him for a second, pouting your lips as you seem to scroll through the endless options. Now and again, you look up at him, as if trying to see what best fits him before you continue your search. He waits. And waits. And waits. He’s about to throw in an admittedly useless suggestion of some sort of boring animal when you turn your phone around to show him what you’ve chosen.

Jihoon, the contact name reads. And there’s the little angel face next to it.

“Oh, come on,” he says, blushing deeply. “You can’t be serious.”

“I totally am,” you say proudly, turning it back and pressing to save it. He hides his face in his hands. “If you won’t pick your own, you get what you’re given. You did this to yourself.”

“Wow,” he chuckles weakly, sliding his hands up into his hair and raking it back off his face. Your eyes move quickly across every inch and boy, does he notice. You shrug in response and test it, sending the same little emoticon to him. He blushes harder when it comes through and he saves your number into his own phone before placing it face-down on the table. 

More than an hour after buying your coffee, Jihoon stretches his arms above his head and checks the time on his watch. He frowns slightly, not sure how the afternoon got away from him so fast, and lets out a sigh.

“I think I need to get going,” he says reluctantly. Leaving you is absolutely the opposite of what he wants to do, actually. Alas, “I have some friends coming over tonight.”

“Yeah — yeah, of course,” you smile, leaning to one side to pick your bag up off the floor. “No worries.”

You both move to stand up and he throws his coat over his arm, leading the way out. He holds open the door for you to leave first, then follows you outside into the afternoon sun. 

“It was really nice to see you,” you say, turning to face him. 

“You too,” he agrees. “Text me if you need anything, okay? But actually do. Don’t just say you will?”

You laugh sweetly. Fairies. His ears might have actually caught fire this time. “Okay, okay. I promise. I’ll text you — thank you.” There’s a pause, but only a tiny one. “And for the coffee, too.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he insists, waving it off. You shake your head. He thinks your hands are twitching when you stuff them into your pockets but he can’t be sure. Your breath definitely stutters, though. 

“No, really. Um… next one’s on me?” 

He blinks, and blinks again. Next one? The next one? He feels like he’s malfunctioned and been forcibly rebooted. The next one? 

“I-…” he starts, his throat dry. “Yeah, okay. If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” You nod, smiling with — what he doesn’t realise is — relief. “I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah — I’ll see you, y/n.”

—————

Jihoon has no choice but to admit defeat to the group chat that night when Seungcheol and Jeonghan come over for a takeout.

Within minutes, his oldest friend is asking about the girl from the gym — he’s been just as relentless as Seokmin and Soonyoung in quizzing Jihoon, except it’s slightly harder to deny to Seungcheol because he did witness, first-hand, the way you had his friend tripping over his own feet with a single smile. At first, Jihoon tries to shrug it off. Play it down. Change the subject. He doesn’t mention that he’s actually spoken to you since he and Cheol trained together, or that he accidentally bumped into you and paid for your coffee, or that you stayed talking with him for as long as you did. He definitely doesn’t say that you exchanged phone numbers. 

He absolutely won’t confess to being smitten. 

All Jihoon willingly admits to is that from what he’s seen of you around, you seem nice, and with a roll of his eyes he does agree that he thinks you’re attractive. He gets a bit of a glare later in the evening when  Jeonghan asks if he’s thought about where he wants to take you on your first date, and Jihoon tells him to stop asking stupid questions and eat his chicken before he eats it for him. But all in all he thinks he evades the worst of it pretty well. For now, anyway — he knows their pestering isn’t going away any time soon. 

Especially not when, on their way out, Seungcheol leans close and whispers that whatever is going on with his gym crush, it suits him. Jihoon jabs him on the arm and the two men leave, laughing brightly.

It’s about an hour after his friends have gone home, having washed the dishes and cleaned up his apartment that Jihoon is sitting on his living room floor doing a few lower body stretches before he turns in for the night. He finds himself tapping into your text thread — not for the first time this evening — and skimming over the short conversation you had earlier. You messaged him when you got back to your friend’s place to thank him for the third time, and Jihoon replied back telling you that if you didn’t stop being silly, he was never going to respond to you again. Your reply came in the form of a “:(“ and his was a simple “:)”. That was it, but he’s been thinking about the exchange ever since. 

He’s not sure why. Nor is he certain what about that has him looking down at the messages and grinning like a fool in his apartment, alone, at 10:30pm on a Sunday night. He could probably take a stab in the dark at what it means, though. He rubs at the back of his neck with one hand as he changes conversations and types out a short message with the other. 

jihoon: fine. you’re right. 

seokmin: ?

soonyoung: probs true, does need context

jihoon: about the gym girl. you’re right. 

soonyoung: OH

seokmin: Hahahahahaha

seokmin: Yeah, you’re definitely the last to know, dude

soonyoung: fr even chan and hansol know atp lmao 

jihoon: they what?

jihoon: how do they know?

jihoon: they don’t go to my gym! i haven’t seen them in weeks!

soonyoung: because we told them????? 

seokmin: So, we might have told everyone

jihoon: blocking both of your numbers immediately.

seokmin: Hey! We’re just glad you’ve accepted it

seokmin: When do we get to meet her?

jihoon: blocked.

Well, great, Jihoon thinks as he fights the urge to lay face down on the floor and let the laminate cool his searingly hot cheeks. 

At least he’s admitted it now. 

He’s vaguely confirmed in writing that maybe he has a bit of a thing for you — it’s out in the open and at minimum, two of his friends know that it’s real. Straight from the horse’s mouth. Fingers. Whatever. No doubt by morning, all of his friends will have found out. The point stands that he hasn’t confessed to something like this since he was approximately sixteen years old, so whatever you’re doing to him, whatever this… is, it matters. 

So, he asks himself, standing up off the hardwood floor and stretching his spine, arms locked behind him and pushed back as far as they can go. He turns off all the lights, checks the front door, goes through the motions to get himself ready for bed. So… what the fuck am I supposed to do now?

—————

Come Monday evening, he’s about ready to hit the roof.

As far as bad days go, Jihoon thinks he’s in the running for one of the worst ever. He slept awfully, tossing and turning through the night despite the usual winning combination of freshly washed bed sheets and his white noise machine drowning out the occasional disturbance from the street below. He wakes up two minutes before his alarm is due to go off, only to discover he fell asleep before plugging his phone in to charge overnight, and it’s sitting at a very risky 13%. The gel he uses to keep his hair off his face at work has gone weird and only does half a job, strands tumbling back in front of his eyes the second he goes to leave his apartment, very nearly forgetting his keys. Then, to really put the cherry on top, he sees that — at some point between getting home yesterday and now — someone has scraped his car while parking up next to him. There’s a large scratch right down the passenger side, with no note nor reliable CCTV in his apartment’s parking lot to confirm who it was, and of course, the space is currently empty. 

All this before he even gets to work.

He fundamentally knows that starting the week off with a bad attitude will only lead to a really shitty remainder, but when Vernon sends his routine ‘Monday Motivation’ booster message — “you’re going to have a great day, today!” — into the group chat, Jihoon responds with a crude photo of his middle finger, right in front of the massive scuff on the bodywork of his Hyundai. Jeonghan replies with an ‘oof’, Wonwoo with a ‘yikes’, and Joshua, ever the comedian, sends a picture of Garfield lying face-down captioned ‘Mondays’ that nobody replies to. All responses feel kind of appropriate. But he pockets his phone without sending anything else, sighing again; he locks the car and checks the handle just in case before he finally heads into the building.

It’s going to be a long day. He just has to get through it.

Things don’t necessarily improve. He ends up in and out of meetings all day, so when 5 o’clock rolls around and he’s on his way out the door, he’s feeling a bit like he’s done nothing of actual value. Just, for some reason, thinking about you and tapping out a catchy beat on the top of his desk as he pretends to pay attention to useless presentation after useless presentation. But it’s still somehow been exhausting on his brain and on the drive back to his apartment, Jihoon feels so drained that he contemplates skipping the gym altogether and going straight to bed. This internal argument takes up most of his journey, but it does keep him occupied during the rush-hour traffic if it does nothing else. 

Nothing has ever been fixed by ruining a perfectly good routine, however — so no sooner than he’s back in his apartment, he changes out of his button-down and trousers and into his regular gym gear. His protein shaker is ready on the counter for when he’s home again, the lights are off, his bag is on his shoulder and the door is locked. He pushes against it a few times, checking out of habit, despite the fact that his only neighbours on this floor are Soonyoung, Seokmin and an elderly couple with a cat they’re not technically supposed to have. Nobody tells, though, because Boots has become everyone’s emotional support animal. The only actual security threat is Seokmin maybe stealing something from his fridge, but he’s only ever satisfied after the third test anyway. 

A quick warmup and a few easy stretches later, Jihoon sets about his business. Mondays are for training legs (and often, as a result, incapacitating himself for the rest of the week), and these workouts are always some of his most intense.

So intense, in fact, that he’s sweating buckets and cherry red when he steps away from the squat rack, tugging up the hem of his t-shirt to dry his face, a brief flash of his toned abdomen on full view. He’s just about catching his breath when he glances in the mirror, and his knees nearly give out when he sees you walking in. You lock eyes and smile at him in the reflection as you start to walk towards him.

It’s not just any smile, but he’s way too flustered to notice.

He spins around to face you, mortally embarrassed that you definitely just saw that, but in a weird way… kind of elated? You drop your headphones to sit around the back of your neck to greet him as you get closer. He pushes his hair back off his forehead and tries to act as cool as he can, but Jihoon suddenly becomes incredibly aware of everything about himself in this moment: his posture, how his arms hang by his sides, the exact positioning of his feet. The fact that he’s breathing pretty deeply, that his pulse is so loud in his ears that he can see your lips moving but can’t quite hear what you’re saying.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit — you’re talking. Focus. He needs to focus. 

“Sorry — what was that?” he asks, eliciting a soft laugh from you.

“I like your shirt,” you repeat, a fraction clearer. Jihoon glances down at himself, at the same sweatpants and tight black workout top he wears in here several times a week, and looks back at you with a raised eyebrow. God, he lets himself think for half a second, entertaining his own stupidity with the idea that you’re finding this as hard as he is, too. Maybe I’m not alone in this. 

“Oh?” he says. “Um — thank you?”

“How’d it go with your friends last night?” you ask, hardly skipping a beat, and he’s a little thankful that you skim over his poor attempt at gratitude for a compliment he isn’t sure he deserves. Instead, his confusion wraps itself around the fact that you actually remembered what he was doing last night. Hell, even he’d forgotten in the heat of the day he’d had, but you remembered. He’s sweating over it a little and briefly wonders what the chances are of the gym floor opening up and swallowing him whole.

Slim, he decides. But not zero. 

There’s hope.

“Yeah — yeah, it was nice,” he says, internally kicking himself for overthinking this so much that he’s apparently lost his ability to speak. In the space of 24 hours, he’s gone from giggling over coffee with you to completely weak just at the sound of your voice. It should be easier here, if anything — this is home turf for him. His comfort space. He supposes the tight fit of your gym clothes accentuating your hips and thighs isn’t helping matters, and neither is the wide neckline of your own t-shirt exposing your throat and a collarbone. But still. He’s not a teenager. He should be able to handle a little bit of skin. 

He clears his throat, rolling his head side-to-side. Focus. “Sorry — I’m-… I just didn’t expect to see you back here so soon.”

“Yeah,” you chuckle. “I-… couldn’t stay away. Missed it a little too much.”

“I get that,” he concurs, willing his eyes not to drop down your frame to a newly exposed area of skin just around your waist, your t-shirt riding up as you adjust your bag on your shoulder. “It’s good to-… have you back, anyway.”

“Good to be back,” you agree. “Hey — can you leave that set up for me, when you’re done? I’m on legs today, too.”

Jihoon doesn’t want to say that he knows Mondays are your leg days, as well, so he doesn’t. Even if it is true. He wonders if you would find it odd that he’s remembered. “Sure,” he says with a small smile, which you return. Just as you’re about to walk off to drop your things into a locker, he pipes up again. “I mean — hey, if you wanted a spot, or to-… do, you know… anything…”

“Are you asking me to train with you?” you ask, eyes bright and smile wider than he thinks he’s ever seen it. This is torture. He’s not even lifting anything and his heart is about to burst out of his fucking chest — God, maybe this was a bad suggestion.

“I-…” he starts, but he lets the breath out of his lungs and shrugs his shoulders. “Yeah. I am.”

“Give me two minutes,” you agree, hurrying off to put your stuff away and fill up your bottle.

He manages to squeeze another set of squats in before you get back, which is sort of a miracle seeing as how his knees have gone completely weak ever since you arrived. He’s scrolling through his playlist as you cross the gym floor on your way back to him, but he looks up and smiles as you approach. 

“You go ahead — I’ve just finished.”

He knows he’s really fucking done for when, after the first round, you add plates onto the bar to out-lift him. All before he’s even positioned himself behind you to be a good spotter.

Jihoon doesn’t go down without a fight though, and things get a little competitive from there. Both of you throw some of your favourite (see: most agonising) exercises into the mix over the course of the hour, taking it in turns on the equipment and creating a session that just about has him able to move by the time you’re finished. You talk to each other when you’ve got the breath to do so, otherwise focussing on your workout with more intensity than either of you remember training with for a long time. 

And so what if he has to turn away from you once or twice to compose himself when breathless whines spill from between your lips on your last few reps, the sheer effort of the movements pushing your muscles to their absolute limit? So what if he feels his entire body run a thousand degrees every time you sweetly encourage him to manage just one more? So what if his palm stays tingling for fifteen seconds every time you high-five him for a set well done?

You slide out of the hamstring curl machine with a deep breath and legs like two sticks of jelly at the end of the session, and he holds a hand out to steady you as you regain your ability to weight-bear.

“You okay?” he asks, and you nod, patting what’s exposed of your chest and neck with your towel. 

“Yeah. Yeah — just… fuck.” You laugh, laying your hand over the top of his and squeezing. Only for a second — not even, only for a breath — and really just to let him know that you’re okay to stand on your own, but Jihoon feels a bit like he’s been electrocuted straight up his arm all the same. “You don’t come to play, do you?”

“Says you,” he scoffs, only now moving his hand from your upper arm. “I was wrong about you — you’re insane. Clinically insane.” 

Using the paper towels he went to gather while you were finishing up, he wipes the machine clean as you stretch out your now slightly exercise-swollen thighs. 

“I was just gonna finish up on one of the stairmasters,” you tell him, taking a long sip of your water. His eyes widen to the point of comedy, eyebrows high on his forehead. You snicker at his horror, the rim of your bottle hovering tantalisingly over your bottom lip. “What?”

“That’s-… got to be a form of masochism,” he says, exhausted just at the idea of marching up the never ending staircase even for a minute. You almost choke on your mouthful of water, only just swallowing it in time before a sudden, uncontrollable laugh erupts from your chest. 

“How?!” you ask, covering your mouth with your hand. Just like yesterday, the urge to pull your arm away, to reveal your hidden smile strikes him. He doesn’t act on it, but he wants to.

“What do you mean, how? Why would you put yourself through that after what you’ve just done?” It’s completely lighthearted, and the rush of heat on your cheeks intensifies at the cocktail of shock and awe in his gaze.

You shrug your shoulders once. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just better than you.” The way the tip of your tongue teasingly sits between your teeth as you grin at him sends bullets of adrenaline through his veins and Jihoon runs his hand over his face.

For about three seconds, he tells himself he isn’t going to take the bait. He’ll lose, he’ll admit it — he’ll put his hands up and say you’re absolutely, definitely better than he is, if it means he doesn’t have to push through a round of cardio after surpassing every single one of his physical limits. But God, he thinks you look completely irresistible standing there challenging him like this, your hands on your hips. His eyes don’t leave yours and yours don’t leave his; both of your chests stutter, just a little bit, and he can see your smile grow in his periphery.

How the fuck is he supposed to walk away?

“Ten minutes,” he concedes, matching your footsteps as you start to walk backwards towards his least favourite line of equipment in any gym, ever. “And you’re definitely getting the next coffee, now.”

——————

That Friday, you finally text him again.

His muscles have just about returned to a working state and Jihoon is quite proud to say that he has regained the ability to sit down without needing something to hold onto. He got home from work, showered the day away and has just settled down into the sofa to start on the book Wonwoo has been on his ass about reading when his phone vibrates on the side table. He reaches over for it, trying to figure out which of his friends might be trying to get hold of him early evening on a Friday, and already going over excuses in his head as to why he can’t go out to do whatever they’re inviting him to. But when your contact name flashes up on the screen, every single thought disappears from his brain.

y/n: hey :)

y/n: just out of interest, how good are you at assembling furniture?

He furrows his brows at this. There’s a very obvious answer, which is that he’s not. He doesn’t want to reply saying so, though, so he goes for what he thinks is the next best thing.

jh: well…

jh: what are you trying to put together?

y/n: a bed :(

y/n: today’s your rest day, right?

y/n: can i bribe you with dinner after? :)

Oh? His brain stalls, fingers hovering over the keypad. He can literally see your face forming a little pout before growing into a hopeful grin in his mind’s eye. He doesn’t see how he could ever say no. 

jh: apparently yes, you can.

jh: text me the address? i’ll leave in 5.

He changes out of his basketball shorts and hoodie in record time, abandoning Wonwoo’s book on his couch in favour of attempting to look at least somewhat presentable for you. He tugs on a pair of jeans that he hasn’t touched in about 6 months and one of his nicer t-shirts instead, even going as far as to spritz aftershave on the column of his throat. You’ve sent him your address and he makes to leave, doing his regular essential item pat-down on his way out the door. He puts your new apartment into his phone as he crosses the parking lot, stupidly delighted to discover it’s only 7 and a half minutes away from where he lives, and settles into his car with a series of deep exhales.

The breathing exercises don’t achieve much. His head is still spinning when he parks up in the street by your new place and lingers just outside the building. He sends you a text to say he’s arrived and you reply saying you’re on your way down. You appear in the lobby just a few minutes later.

“Hey,” you greet him warmly, crossing the space and putting your arms around him in a hug. He goes limp for a fraction of a second before his arms slide around you, too. God, he hopes you can’t feel his heartbeat right now. He thinks that the effect you have on him should be considered dangerous. But whether you can or not, you tighten your arms to squeeze him once before you unwind them from around his neck and step away. 

“Hi,” he says, feverish from the tops of his ears all the way down to his toes. His hands find his pockets as you take a few more polite steps back.

“Thank you so much for this.” Your bottom lip finds temporary home between your teeth before you’re nodding back towards the stairwell. “I’m on the third floor. Follow me.”

He does. He walks up the stairs behind you as you ask about his day at work, and he tells you that he thinks today has probably been one of the best he’s had in about 2 months. When he asks how your day went, you turn your head back to look at him and stumble on the next step, gently laughing and saying that you think you’re at your tether’s end with D.I.Y, but it’s been pretty good otherwise. By the time you reach your floor, his thighs are aching, a bit of residual fatigue from your session earlier in the week making it a little harder than it ought to be. He can’t imagine how you’ve coped every day since then; if his own building didn’t have an elevator, Jihoon thinks he’d have been sleeping in his car.

You give him a little tour of the apartment, and he stands next to you at the window as you point out where you were staying with your friend a few blocks away. He thinks the view is seriously pretty in the evening light, enchanted by how he can see the tops of the slightly lower buildings and the street below, lined with neon storefronts and currently alive with shoppers and bar-goers, but… He cringes at himself for thinking it, but the view through the glass is nothing compared to the one he has inside. 

You’ve started to put up a few decorations and knick-knacks around the place too. He doesn’t know you very well, but he still thinks it’s very you — all of it, and he likes them. Even with the room full of boxes and half-unpacked cases, there’s so much personality in it already. Charm. He brushes off your attempts to apologise for the ‘mess’, as you called it, despite everything being neatly pushed out of the way of the main space. It’s easily tidier than any other mid-move apartment he’s ever been in. 

“Did you want a drink?” you ask him, walking over to the refrigerator and resting a hand on the door. “I’ve got wine, or-… anything, really.” 

“Just some water would be great,” he says appreciatively, and a few seconds later you’re handing him a bottle, turning another one over in your hand. “I really wouldn’t be much help after a couple of glasses, trust me.”

“Does this mean you are good at it, then? Before a drink?” you ask him. Is it hope in your voice? Or do you somehow know how hopeless he is, and are you teasing? He can’t tell. Regardless, clearly his evasion earlier wasn’t quite as successful as he hoped it would be.

“About that…” He chuckles, taking a sip from the bottle and glancing sideways at you. “I’m sure between the two of us, we’ll figure it out.”

“My knight in shining armour,” you say with a laugh, closing your fingers around his wrist and leading him through the door to your bedroom. You’ve managed to separate all of the individual pieces, but you haven’t made any real progress otherwise. He settles himself down on the floor and reaches for the assembly manual, pursing his lips as he looks at the little baggies of screws and bolts and various other things he doesn’t know the names of.

“Okay.” He frowns, looking back up at you where you’ve kneeled down a couple of feet away. You’re grinning innocently back at him, but Jihoon’s lips are more aligned with a pout. “You maybe should have mentioned that the instructions are in Swedish.”

——-

Ignoring the fact that you can’t understand the directions printed on the flimsy little pieces of paper, you get to work. It’s… an interesting process, but somehow between the pair of you, you successfully manage to assemble the bed in just under two hours by mostly following the diagrams (and having to backtrack several times because Jihoon managed to miss a few steps). At three minutes to nine, you’re both finally standing up off the floor, stretching out stiff joints and tight muscles; the bed is fully assembled and made up with your sheets in the centre of the room, headboard against the back wall, the lamp you set on the dresser casting a pleasant orangey glow on every surface.

“We did it,” you say, a little in shock, a lot exhausted, and absolutely starving. At least, that’s what he assumes you’re feeling, because it’s what he is. “We actually did it.”

“I mean, you did most of it,” Jihoon says. It’s true; at a point, he was just handing you the pieces you asked him for and holding parts steady so that you could fit them together. But if you want to call it a joint effort, he isn’t going to stop you, and the roll of your eyes tells him that you do want to call it that. 

“Shh. You helped,” you scold him, bumping his upper arm with your elbow. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“If you say so,” he chuckles, taking another sip of his water. Jihoon isn’t sure he believes you, but the way you’re challenging him to argue further with your tongue pressed against the inside of your cheek scrambles his brain. Any remaining argument dies on his lips. “We make a good team.”

“We do,” you agree, expression shifting into a shy smile, bumping his arm again, your elbow lingering against him for a second longer. “Come on, I think I promised to feed you, too. What are you in the mood for?”

A movie has been playing in the background for about an hour by the time your food arrives and you’ve eaten everything. Jihoon relaxes back against the cushions of the couch and you’re settled comfortably next to him: there’s plenty of space on either side of you both, so there isn’t really any need for you to have your upper arm basically pressing against his, but Jihoon is too comfortable to say anything and you certainly aren’t making any attempts to move away. You shift your legs after about ninety minutes, bringing them up underneath you so your thigh is pressed against his now, as well, and you’re twisted slightly so you’re physically facing him but your head is still turned towards the TV.

Everywhere your clothed body touches him is scorching, and he wonders if maybe he should’ve worn a thinner t-shirt, or at the very least something a little less heavy on his legs. His jeans, slightly tighter around the thighs than perhaps would be their peak level of comfort, are clinging to him everywhere and he’s so aware of himself, so aware of you, of your sweet body wash, your fruity shampoo, every single one of your breaths… He’s cursed people out for breathing too loudly around him before, but he thinks he could replace his white noise machine with an eight hour track of just this and he would sleep like a fucking baby.

One of your elbows is propped against the top of the cushions behind you and you’re resting your head in your palm, and (not for the first time this evening) he glances sideways to look at you. They’ve been fleeting glances thus far, only stealing fractions of a moment before he turns his attention back to the TV. But this? This is the wrong moment. Entirely the wrong fucking moment because as his head turns, so does yours, and you catch him in the act. Fuck, if he thought he was burning up, before? He’s pretty sure he’s somehow just descended straight to the second circle of hell, greeting all the other lusty sinners like old friends. Several of his thoughts tonight have been considerably impure, and in this half second of blistering eye contact, they all come rushing back.

The universe is really testing him this evening, and Jihoon is stumbling. It feels like any minute now, he’s going to explode.

He straightens his spine and looks back at the TV, trying to force his eyes to focus even though he’s completely swallowed by the feeling of your arm straightening across the back of the couch, your fingertips grazing over the skin at the bottom of his hairline. He can feel your eyes still on him, your gaze burning into his cheek, no doubt following as his tongue darts out subconsciously over his lips. But he can’t quite help himself, can’t get the image of how sweet you looked out of his head; he clears his throat quietly and looks over at you again, coming over almost completely blank the second he notices the glimmer your eyes hold when they’re trained on him. 

Any. Fucking. Minute. 

“Jihoon, I-…” you start to say, and he turns himself a little bit so that he’s facing you better, completely forgetting about the movie now. That’s not a great loss: he couldn’t explain the plot even if he tried. “I don’t know if-… you can tell me if I’ve read you wrong…”

“You haven’t,” he hurries. Relief starts to ease the tension between your brows, before you scrunch them again and cock your head to the side. “I’m sure you haven’t, I mean.”

In this new position, one of his legs is bent and sitting up on the couch beneath him and you’ve adjusted your own posture to accommodate. Your knee sits just over the top of his, more of your impossible body heat radiating through his clothes, and he glances down at the site of contact before he looks back at you. 

“I just-... I don’t know, I think I knew I was interested in you from the first time I saw you, but the last few weeks especially…” You’ve been rehearsing this. He can feel it. It’s written in your eyes, holding the weight of the words you’re struggling to say, and behind them he can see cogs turning as you try to get the words in the right order. (He knows how that goes, because he’s been trying to figure out how to tell you, too.) He nods, urging you to keep going.

“I can’t get you out of my head. I really like you.”

He short-circuits, then. Even though part of him knew what you were going to say, hearing it out loud flips a switch inside him and he stops functioning. Blinking at you slowly, lips parted, heart racing – he feels as if his brain has been sucked clean out of his ears and is floating somewhere way above his head. Way outside of a contactable range, way beyond any level of rational decision-making. Jihoon knows what he wants to say, of course – he knows that he wants to say that he likes you, and that he has for a while, and that maybe you should let him take you out on a date or something, but all of that sits just behind the barrier of his teeth, so…

He leans forward and kisses you, instead.

He almost can’t believe that he’s only wanted this for as short of a time as he has; it feels like it’s been building inside him for so much longer. Relief floods through his veins, the emotional dam finally breaching. It only lasts a few seconds, but with his lips pressed to yours and yours pressing back, the static in his brain goes quiet, the movie falls silent: everything stops, except you. He thinks you could’ve been carved from stone around each other — he thinks something just feels so inexplicably right. Your hand tightens in his hair and he gasps softly as he pulls an inch back, eyes heavily lidded and looking straight at you through his lashes. You move forward, leaning your forehead against his, and the feather-light hold he has on your chin slides up to your cheek instead. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know how to-…” he says after a long, long moment of remembering how to breathe, how to blink, how to exist in your space without combusting on the spot. He still isn’t sure he knows how to do any of those things, especially not now he can see every single line of your face this close. He’s trying, though. “But — shit, I’m crazy about you.”

You kiss him, then, harder than before, colliding in a mess of half-finished breaths and bumped, stinging noses. His other hand comes up to sit against your rib cage, yours pressing into the material of his t-shirt over his chest. He smiles and parts his lips as yours move against them, your tongue gently sweeping into his mouth, finding his own; a soft, low moan tickles the back of his throat, his fingertips curling slightly to tighten his hold. 

Jihoon isn’t sure how you end up on your knees, straddled astride his legs with one of his hands tucked between your thigh and calf, the other on the curve of your ass — he just knows that he doesn’t mind one bit. You’re warm and comfortable, the arch of your back pressing you into him deliciously. He’s kissing you like his life depends on it (he really fears that it might), and you’re doing the same back, licking against his tongue and rocking slightly with every separation and reconnection of your lips. He feels your fingers brush at the hem of his t-shirt and slip just underneath at the same moment as you pull away from him, and he’s so dazed, so fuzzy, so lost in you that he can only tilt his head back to stare up at your face. In your current position, you’re towering over him. It’s easily the best view he’s ever had.

“Can I-…?” you ask breathlessly. The new roughness to your voice goes straight to his cock and he has to restrain himself from bucking his hips upwards.

“Yeah,” he says, leaning forward slightly to try and aid you. Your hands tug at the bottom of his shirt and peel it up over his chest: he raises his arms slightly and soon, you can toss it to the unoccupied side of the couch. He shivers slightly as he relaxes back, both at the chill in your unheated apartment and upon noticing the way you’re staring down at him. It’s addictive. 

“Oh my God,” you whisper, jaw a little slack, smoothing your hands over his shoulders to feel every ridge of hard-earned muscle. You travel down his arms, over to his chest, down his stomach… Jihoon sucks in a breath, your warm hands absolutely searing against his skin, and his abdominals tighten beneath them. Tilting your head, you press a line of kisses down the side of his neck, your lips brushing against one almost unbearably sensitive spot when you continue. “Fuck, you’re so hot.”

He smiles bashfully, rolling his head to the side and giving you all the access you want. Your lips tickle euphorically against him as he tugs you flush against his chest, both his hands now tightly pressing against your ass, fingers kneading the muscle concealed by your pants. You’re sitting right over his clothed cock and he’s reasonably sure he can feel your pulse between your thighs, letting out a soft grunt when you roll your hips deliberately down into his own. Your kisses travel to the swell at the curve of his shoulder before moving back up to his lips, where he meets you with a fire that he’s never kissed anyone with, before.

“Says you,” he murmurs into your mouth, your teeth clashing, his hips pushing slightly up off the couch. Just enough to make you sit back from him, just enough for Jihoon to open his eyes and look at you. His hair, thoroughly scrunched up and pulled around by your desperately gripping fingers, fans out at all sorts of angles and his chest has taken on a rosy hue since you last looked at it. With swollen, shiny lips, glossy eyes, breathing deep, he looks completely blissed out, like a man who could unravel beneath you if you moved just right. All from a little tongue action. He’d usually feel embarrassed, but it’s hard to when you’re the person on top of him; to be honest, neither of you would mind much if he did.

You’re pushing yourself up and off him before he can really get his bearings and an audible whine of despair parts his lips at the loss of your weight against his cock. Fuck, these jeans were a bad idea: he’s straining against the denim so much that it hurts, and there’s a near perfect outline of his hard-on. He stops pouting the second you take hold of his hand and tug him upright, though, your eyes dark and determined and intense. He thinks he might faint, actually: from standing too fast and feeling as though all the blood in his body is pulsing through his aching dick, he has to take a moment to stop the edges of his vision going dark before you’re pulling him through to your bedroom.

Something flips inside him the second you have him there. Jihoon, who was more than happy to sit beneath you and let you take all the control in the living room, is pushing you back onto the mattress by your shoulder and slotting himself between your parted thighs the moment the door is closed behind him. He’s past the point of wanting you, now: he needs you, and he needs you to need him, too. 

And God, do you. You prop yourself up on one elbow, staring at where he’s now leaning over you with wide eyes and your bottom lip drawn between your teeth. He bends down and kisses along your jawline in response, nipping gently just below your ear. Your back arches up and in a flash, one of his hands is beneath you, snapping open the clasp on your bra with a few slides of his fingers.

“Wh-…” you start, giggling and panting at the same time. He smirks against your pulse point. 

He flattens his tongue against you and licks a salty bead of sweat off your skin. “What?”

“Had no idea you could-…” You’re cut off by a gasp as one of his hands slides under your sweater, slipping beneath the garment he just unfastened. His fingertips graze over your breast and a pleading sob escapes you. His smile grows even wider. “You were so…”

“So what?” he prompts, pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Another one of those beautiful sounds breaks the air above you. He does it again, massaging your breast with the palm of his hand. “Come on… talk to me.”

“So good,” you gasp, lying down flat and tilting your head back against the pillows. He rocks forwards to press his cock against you again and your thighs tighten around his hips, one leg hooking around his to keep him there. “So-… fucking good.”

You’re so impossibly irresistible to him, especially like this, and he sits up, settling on his knees to look down at you. Jihoon doesn’t even get the chance to move his hands towards the hem of your sweater to tug it off you though: you’re already grabbing it yourself, crossing your arms to pull it over the top of your head. He can see your bra now, and hell, it’s pretty even if it is just hanging off you. Baby pink and lacy. He thumbs over the material as he helps you pull it down your arms, briefly letting himself wonder if-…

“If only you’d been patient enough to see the set together.”

Oh, so you can read his mind now, too? 

You glance down to the small space between your bodies and his eyes follow, lips slightly parted, a heavy sigh on his breath. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck — he wishes he had. Even imagining it, he’s throbbing.

“You wear all this for me?” he asks, hands creeping up the insides of your thighs. You nod up at him and he smiles down at you. “Fuck. I bet you didn’t even need my help tonight at all, did you?”

You’re bucking your hips now as his thumb brushes, agonisingly slowly, over your clothed cunt. One arm has come up to cover your face: for the first time, he acts on his impulsive need to see you shy, see you needy, and leans over you to gently pull it away and pins your wrist down against the mattress. He kisses you, his fingers on the other hand pressing slightly more firmly to where he’s pretty sure your clit is.

“Y/n, you’re so pretty. Let me see you.”

“I didn’t,” you admit, voice wobbling as he works you up so much you’re actually soaking through not just your pretty underwear, but the leggings you’ve had on all night, too. He can feel it against the pad of his thumb and he raises his eyebrows for you to continue. “Just… really wanted you to come over…”

“Mhm. I know,” he soothes, bending low again and kissing down towards your chest. His lips purse over one of your nipples and he sucks it up into his mouth, flicking his tongue over the bud. He releases your wrist with the hand currently taking most of his weight and leans on his elbow, teasing your other tit with his fingers. The weight of it in his palm has him murmuring soft praises against your skin, telling you over and over how good you feel. You push up onto your elbows to try and press him closer — when his teeth tug just slightly, you’re about ready to beg.

“Jihoon, please,” you murmur. He short-circuits, again. Goes blank. His name has always sounded so much sweeter on your tongue, but this? This? Oh, he doesn’t know if he’s ever going to recover. That sound is going to stick in his head for days, months, forever, if he has anything to say about it. But even if his brain isn’t working, his body moves on autopilot: he sits up and hooks his fingers under your waistband, pulling your pants down your legs and discarding them onto the floor. 

He’s staring between your thighs with zero functioning brain cells and literal galaxies in his eyes, trying to figure out what cosmic miracle brought someone like you into his life, how on Earth he’s ended up between your thighs. The question is so overwhelming in his mind that he barely notices that you’re moving, at first. Jihoon doesn’t know what causes you to try and bring your thighs together — if it’s shyness or arousal, desperation, a search for friction? — but he stops you as soon as he realises, laying a hand on each of your legs, pinning your knees down now, instead.

“Keep your legs wide for me?” he asks, to which you punctuate a nod with an assenting hum. “Good girl.” 

You’re so wet that when he strokes two fingers over your covered pussy, pressing the fabric of your panties into your heat, they come away thinly coated in the arousal that’s seeped through them. He brings his fingers to his lips then, eyes fluttering as he licks your slick off them. You taste otherworldly and he doesn’t hesitate to tell you so with a groan.

“God,” he murmurs, tugging at the waistband of your panties with his other hand. His eyes ask if you’re ready — if you’re sure, and when you nod down at him, he pulls them off completely too. His middle finger slips between your folds, collecting the wetness dribbling out of you, and he drags it slowly upwards towards your clit. He repositions himself again, leaning down over you with his head at your neck, the heel of his hand resting against your lower abdomen. He draws small circles over the bud, laying open-mouthed kisses at your collarbone and listening to the gorgeous sounds you make, learning what you like, following each gasp and moan and chasing as many of them as he can draw out of you.   

At the same time as you start rocking your hips up to meet his hand, your nails scratching gently against his scalp again, Jihoon slips his finger down from your swollen clit to press it inside you. You gasp, high-pitched and needy, your cunt spasming around his finger and pulling it in deeper. He’s only in up to his second knuckle but the way you keen for him has him pushing further until it’s buried inside your pussy completely. 

“S’this okay?” he asks, but he knows your answer thanks to your vocal responses to him already slowly easing his finger in and out, in and out. You nod your head almost aggressively as he glances up at your face, your eyes squeezed tightly shut, jaw tense, throat bobbing as you swallow hard. 

“More — please,” you say not long after. A breath hitches in your throat when he does exactly what you ask, pressing the heel of his hand against your clit and positioning another finger at your entrance. He flexes his wrist slightly to get comfortable, pumping both fingers into you now, and he curls them upwards at just the right time to make your back arch off the bed. “Fuck — mhm, just like that—…”

He moves down your body slightly, reattaching his lips to one of your nipples as he fingers you deep and slow. He’s in no rush: Jihoon thinks he could do this all day and just deal with the RSI later on. You look so unbelievably hot with your face scrunched in pleasure, your thighs quivering as you fight to keep them apart like he asked you to, with your hips twisting down against his hand to try and get his fingers deeper and faster. When he lowers himself all the way down, settling completely between your thighs, he flicks his tongue out over your clit and your back arches up off the bed with a gasp.

“Don’t stop,” you whine, all high-pitched and rushed, both syllables merging into one hurried sound. “Fuck, fuck — please, don’t stop.”

“I’m not going to,” he murmurs, keeping pace and rhythm as he works you towards your high. God, he thinks there couldn’t possibly be anything in the world more sexy than watching you come undone from this angle. Your chest rising and falling in stuttered breaths, your hips rocking down against his hand, your pussy right on his mouth. Just the thought of it has his cock jumping in his boxers. “You gonna come for me, huh?”

“I-…” you start, releasing your death-grip on the bedsheets to bring a hand to cover your face. He clears his throat deliberately — perhaps it’s sort of closer to a growl than a cough — and he thinks maybe you really can read his mind, or maybe you’re learning that he wants to see every inch of you (especially like this), because a second later, it’s tangled up in his hair and holding him in place. “Y-yeah, fuck, I…”

“Good girl,” he coos again, and that breaks you. Your pussy tightens around his fingers and you feel yourself convulse, muscles clenching and releasing as you go over the edge with a cry. He eases you through your climax, tongue laving over your clit, fingers slowing but not stopping inside your cunt until your thighs close around his head in your oversensitivity. He takes the hint, then, and he slowly pulls away, sucking his fingers clean of your arousal while you take a few breaths to recover.

“Oh, my God,” you sigh as he moves back up and starts pressing small pecks over your chest and collarbones, your fingers lacing through his hair again to pull him up to kiss you. You groan softly at the taste of yourself on his lips, and can’t blame you. He still isn’t over it, either.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he tells you in-between kisses, one hand supporting the back of your neck to keep you close. “So pretty. So sweet. So good.”

“Shh,” you giggle, but he doesn’t. Just about every adoring adjective Jihoon has in his arsenal is murmured against your lips until you’ve gathered enough strength to get up on your knees and push him back onto the mattress, fumbling with the button of his jeans. 

He groans at the relief as you tug them down over his hips and thighs. “We don’t have to do anything else if you’re—”

“Shh.” This one’s a little more insistent, and he makes a show of clamping his lips back together. “You wore the tightest jeans on the planet, had your cock on-fucking-display for me all evening, and you think I wanna stop now?”

His jaw falls slack at the words that come out of your mouth. The incredulous way with which you say them has him involuntarily bucking up into nothing. Your expression matches his when you finally get his jeans all the way off and his thin, black boxer-briefs are the only barrier between you. The outline of his cock strains against them, tenting the fabric: Jihoon doesn’t miss the way you lick over your lips before glancing up at him through your eyelashes. It’s your turn to give him the look, now, asking that this last part is okay, with your fingertips hooked underneath the elastic waistband. He nods feverishly up at your heavy gaze.

“Please,” he groans, lifting his hips so you can pull them off. His length springs free the moment they’re pulled low enough, slapping back against his abdomen, sitting pretty against his toned muscles, thick and veiny and red-tipped. Desperate. His underwear joins the pile of clothes down the side of the bed as you throw one leg over him; sitting across his thighs, you take his cock into your hand, giving it a few gentle strokes. He fucks up into your palm when you squeeze your fingers around it.

“I need you so fucking bad,” you murmur, head spinning, and Jihoon isn’t in much of a better state himself; he’s fighting to keep his eyes open, fighting to keep his breaths coming. He sits upright, one arm behind him for support, and kisses you hard as you continue to tug at his length. 

“Need you, too,” he breathes, shifting so he has both arms around you. In a swift movement, muscles rippling, he lifts you off him and turns you over so he has you sitting on your now impossibly scrunched comforter.

He finds home back between your legs as you reach over into the drawer at your bedside and fumble around for a few seconds. He hears a little clatter and a rustling and when your hand resurfaces, you’ve pulled free a small foil square. You don’t even give him a chance to lean forward and take it; you’re ripping it open and looking up at him with the biggest doe-eyed stare he thinks he’s ever seen. He nods at the silent question, a grunt tumbling free as you roll the condom down his length. This is the most pathetic little bit of contact and he’s fighting demons.

“Okay?” he asks, shuffling back a little and giving you space to lie down flat on your back. You nod up at him, already wrapping your arms around his shoulders. 

“Mhm, just-... take it slow?” you ask him, anticipation rendering you already a little breathless. “S’been a while.” 

A grin blooms all the way from his lips to his eyes and he leans down to kiss you again, positioning his tip at your hole and pressing forward just enough to tease.

Your thighs tighten around his hips and he pushes himself further inside you with a stuttered groan, agonisingly slowly, inch by inch. He stills every few seconds, both to give you the time to adjust and so that he can take a steadying few breaths and not collapse at how good you feel wrapped around him; he stops pressing his hips forward before he’s fully sheathed inside your pussy and you let a whine slip, the stretch slowly easing. 

“You can move,” you tell him, laying a kiss to his chest. “I’m okay.” 

Jihoon gives a soft laugh. Oh, he wishes this was just to be polite, but no. He’s in real danger of losing control any second. “Yeah, this isn’t for you, baby.”

“Oh?” you ask. You clamp around him and he gasps at the tightness, hips jerking forward until he’s buried up to the hilt. Fuck, there’s a bruised cervix if you’ve ever had one; a high-pitched whine erupts out of your lips and he ducks his head down to your ear.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “You just-... fuck, you feel so good.”

“Mm, says you.” 

It’s another moment before he thrusts with intent, though. But when he does? When he pulls out halfway before sliding all the way back inside you, losing and regaining the feeling of your heat enveloping him entirely, hearing your gasps against his collarbone? The invisible reigns holding him back unravel and he settles into a slow but intensely deep rhythm, guiding your legs around his waist. You hook your ankles behind his back and somehow, you suck him in deeper still, your bodies touching everywhere they possibly can, so impossibly close.

The arm not holding his weight slides beneath your hips and raises them just a little. Now, at this angle, every time he rolls into you he grazes against your sweet-spot and you’re reduced to an incoherent mess within a few minutes. Good, he thinks, because he’s not doing much better, himself.

You hug him tighter after one particularly well-angled thrust, sinking your teeth into the muscle of his shoulder. He hisses at the sting, and your lips part as if you’re about to apologise but he doesn’t give you the chance to; he bumps your nose with his own to ask you to lift your head slightly, before he bends down and kisses you hard.

“Do that again,” he gasps, almost all of his weight against you as the hand not around your hips comes up to rest on your cheek. When your brows tighten, he swipes his thumb over your spit-covered, swollen lips. “Please. ”

So, you do.

Maybe not as harshly as the first time, but your teeth find his collarbone and you suck a bruise into his skin, drawing from him the highest pitched sound you think he could possibly make. He squares his jaw, ducking his head back down, biting on his bottom lip before he has no choice but to speak.

“I’m close, y/n,” he confesses, fucking into you slower, trying to stave it off for a few more seconds, his hips stuttering. “Can-... can you give me one more…?”

You nod, the knot in your stomach already growing tighter and tighter with every movement he makes, and when one of your hands unwinds from around his back to slide between your sweat-slicked bodies, he moves slightly away, letting you reach down.

It’s the sight of two of your fingers finding your clit and rubbing your favourite movements out on yourself that takes him past the point of no return, his cock sliding in and out of you messily, desperately, chasing the high that he’s right on the brink of. He kisses and nips just below your ear, breathy groans tickling your neck, and your high-pitched whine tells him you’ve hit your orgasm just as he starts to spill his into the condom, gushing around him, your walls fluttering and milking him for all he’s worth. 

—

You offer for him to shower first – an offer he gratefully accepts. While you’re taking your turn afterwards, Jihoon hunts down a fresh duvet cover in your room; he changes it, grabs you a glass of water for when you’re done, and sits on the edge of his bed with just the towel wrapped around his waist, scrolling through his phone. He looks up with a bright grin as the door opens and you emerge through it in your pyjamas, glowing from the light behind you, stray droplets of water clinging to your arms. 

You pause gently rubbing your hair dry with the towel, eyes brightening when you see him. “You didn’t have to do all this,” you say, and he pushes a hand through his own still damp hair with a laugh.

“It was the least I could do,” he counters. You raise your eyebrows at him, crossing the room to sit opposite him. He drops his phone down onto the mattress. “I couldn’t leave and make you change them yourself.”

“Leave?” you ask, picking up one of his hands and playing idly with his fingers. 

“I mean, it’s getting pretty late, so…” he says. “I probably need to get going at some point.”

“Or…” you say, tongue darting out over your lips. “Maybe you don’t.”

Jihoon looks down at your hands, then back up at you. Are you suggesting what he thinks you are, or has he still not quite come back to himself from earlier? It’s hard to say if the look on your face is hope, or something else.

“Are you… asking me to stay?” he asks. 

“Only if you want to,” you tell him. He lifts your hands up, pressing a kiss to one of your knuckles, then using it to tug you closer to him until he can plant one on your own lips. “I’ve probably got an old t-shirt you could sleep in.”

“Of course I want to.”

So you slip away from him to go rummaging through your drawers, trying to find the promised article of clothing. The whole time, he’s awestruck. Jihoon can’t take his eyes off you.

——————

He wakes up next to you for the first time on a Saturday morning. His sleep-fogged brain registers lying on an unfamiliar mattress, tucked beneath new bedsheets, eyes fluttering open to take in a room he doesn’t quite recognise at first. Part of him wonders if he’s still dreaming. When he rolls over onto his side, and his eyes land on the curve of your shoulders, the fall of your hair down your back, he has to ask himself the same thing again. 

All of last night must’ve been a dream, he muses, smiling shyly to himself and watching your frame rise and fall with every slow breath you take. There’s no way you really told him you liked him, too. There’s no way any of it could have really happened.

“Y/n?” He asks in the gentlest of whispers, only wanting to stir you if you’re awake already. When there’s no response, he moves a tiny bit closer to you, hesitating before he slips his arm around your waist and settles with his chest pressed against your back. A wildly insecure part of his brain tries to argue that just because you wanted what happened last night, that doesn’t mean you want all of this now. Maybe you only wanted to sleep with him, or maybe you’ll have changed your mind somehow now the sun’s come up. He considers moving away again, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling until you wake up and he can have a real conversation about where both of your heads are at with everything, but he barely gets a chance.

Those thoughts are silenced almost immediately, his brain falling quiet the second you roll over in his arms. You bury your head in the valley between his pectorals, tucked away from the world beneath his chin. His arms tighten around your sleep-warmed body.

“What time is it?” You ask. He contains a shiver at the softness of your voice, bliss running the length of his spine. Jihoon thinks that he could get used to this.

“I don’t know. Early, I think,” he murmurs, and you whine softly, burrowing deeper against his chest. “Go back to sleep.”

“Not if you’re awake,” you say. He’s not entirely convinced you can stick to that promise, though, with the way you yawn and he feels your eyelashes fluttering. 

“Don’t worry about me,” he tells you, the tips of his fingers ticking against your side. He ducks his head, pressing a kiss to your hair. A soft hum rumbles in your throat and he can’t hold back the smile that spreads over his lips. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

True enough, you fall back asleep curled up against him and Jihoon, to the sounds of your slowing breaths, drifts off too. A few hours later, at a far more reasonable time, you wake him up with a press of your lips to the tip of his nose.

Innocent, exploratory kisses grow heated in the warmth of the sun that streams through your blinds. Hands start to travel, sleep clothes get discarded, and you have him lying on his back, pressing kisses down his chiselled stomach when his phone starts to vibrate on the floor next to the bed.

He groans at the distraction, again as you shuffle up to sit on your knees and look at him expectantly. 

“Are you gonna answer that?” you ask, the tips of your fingers grazing his thighs. He shakes his head, no. “Come on, Jihoon. It might be important.”

“Not important enough,” he sighs. 

“At least see who it is,” you laugh. Despite a huffed protest, he props himself up on one elbow, leaning over the side of the bed and glancing down at his phone screen.

Seungcheol.

The arrangement to go for a run this morning comes rushing back to Jihoon, who slaps a hand to his forehead and reaches down to grab his phone off the floor, looking at you apologetically.

“Give me two seconds,” he says, and you grin wickedly up at him, ducking low to press a kiss to one of the lines that disappears down into his boxers. 

“Take all the time you need.”

He answers the call frowning, flopping his head back against the pillows. 

“Hey, look – I’m really sorry,” he starts to say, but Seungcheol’s voice cuts him off almost straight away.

“Jihoon, where the hell are you? I got to your apartment and your car wasn’t here, and Seokmin said he didn’t hear you come home last night. We all thought you’d died,” he hurries. Jihoon can picture the expression on the other man’s face perfectly, which is pretty unfortunate seeing as how you’ve moved to start palming his hardening cock through his briefs.

“I stayed out,” Jihoon says, a little wobbly. “I can’t make the run, someth-... shit.” You press an open-mouthed kiss to the outline of his length, the heat of your breath through the fabric sending him into overdrive. “Something came up-...”

The line goes silent for a second, and his breath stutters as you do the same thing again. Each press of your lips is euphoric agony, and he’s really not hiding this as well as he wishes he could. One look down at you tells him that you’re very proud of that.

“Dude,” Seungcheol gasps, snickering suddenly. “Tell me you’re not with a girl right now.”

“Shut up. Go away,” Jihoon grunts. “I’ll call you later.”

“Oh my God, is it gym girl? Did you finally-...”

“Bye, Cheol,” he hurries, hanging up before his friend can say anything else. He drops his phone onto the mattress, fake-glaring down at you and shaking his head. “You’re the worst, you know that?”

“Yeah?” you ask, pulling at the waistband of his briefs to tug them down his legs. “Let me make it up to you, huh?”

[fatecantstopme]

That’s Not What I See

Pairing: Elliot Stabler x Plus Size!Reader

Summary: You're a crime analyst on the Manhattan SVU squad. You've been attracted to Elliot Stabler since you first met him, but you knew there was no way he'd be into you. Men who looked like him never were...at least that's what you thought.

Warnings: Use of pet names. Cursing. Mentions of self-esteem issues. SMUT, praise kink, oral (F receiving), multiple orgasm, unprotected sex (P in V)

You walked into the office gym at 5am, thinking there wouldn't be anyone else there. You hated working out, especially in front of other people. Normally, you used the gym in your apartment building, but it was under construction, so you decided to sneak into the office early.

You'd thrown on leggings and a slightly too small t-shirt, and you were tugging on the shirt uncomfortably as you walked into the gym. You just wanted to get on the treadmill for an hour, but your plans were interrupted when you heard soft grunts coming from across the room.

You froze, hoping whoever it was wouldn't notice you. You moved towards the treadmill quietly, using it as a shield so you could see who was in the room without them seeing you.

From your angle, all you could see was a man's legs on the weight bench across the room. He was laying down and preparing for another rep. When his arms came into view, you let out an involuntary gasp. The Marine Corps tattoo on his right arm was a dead giveaway...it was Elliot Stabler.

He racked the weight bar and sat up, eyes looking in your direction. You knew he couldn't see you, but he must have heard your gasp. Shit, you thought to yourself.

"Hello?" he called.

You decided it would be weird if you didn't respond, so you stepped out from behind the treadmill and gave him a little awkward wave. "Good morning."

He smiled warmly when you came into view. "Morning, (Y/N)."

You could feel his eyes on you, boring holes into your skin, and you tugged on your shirt again. You suddenly wished you'd worn something a little looser, but you hadn't expected to see anyone, least of all him.

"Since when do you come to the gym before dawn?" he asked as he stood up and started walking towards you.

"I--uh--I...normally I don't--umm, I use the gym at home. It's being renovated."

"I see." He stopped right in front of you, giving you an up close and personal view of his beautiful body. Every inch of him was toned, muscles flexing under his skin. "I kinda like having the company."

You let out an awkward chuckle. "I was just gonna...umm--use the treadmill?"

He smiled again and your heart nearly stopped in your chest. "Go for it, doll. You don't need my permission."

You grabbed onto the arm of the treadmill to keep you upright--the term of endearment making your knees buckle. "Yeah," you mumbled.

"Let me know if you need anything." With that, he walked back over to the weight rack to finish his reps.

You were about 5 minutes away from having a full blown heart attack, but it would be super awkward if you left the gym now. So you climbed onto the treadmill and started walking at a steady pace. You did your best to keep your eyes forward, but you could feel Elliot looking at you every time he sat up.

After several minutes, he stood up and came across the room towards you. "Mind if I--?" he asked, gesturing to the machine beside you.

"Oh--uhh, sure," you stammered.

He smiled and got onto the elliptical.

You'd been sucking in your stomach as much as possible since the moment he noticed you...it was restricting your ability to breathe properly, but you didn't care. Standing next to a man who looked that good made you feel incredibly uncomfortable, frumpy even.

"How you liking SVU so far?"

Fuck, now he's gonna ask me questions? I already can't breathe. "I like it, but it's not easy work."

He nodded. "No it's not, but it's rewarding."

"Mhmm," you hummed.

"You're the first crime analyst we've ever had on the squad."

"I know," you said quickly. "I hope I'm adding value."

"You add a lot of value, both to the work we do and to the general morale of the squad."

"Oh," you said in surprise. "I, uhh, I appreciate that."

He chuckled lightly. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," you said tentatively.

"Do I make you uncomfortable?"

"What?" you asked in genuine surprise. "Why would you think that?"

"Well...you don't make eye contact with me very often and you stutter a lot when you talk to me--like you're flustered."

"I promise, it's not because you make me uncomfortable." It's because every time I see you, I want you to rip my clothes off and bend me over your desk.

You could feel his eyes on you, almost like he was scanning you--trying to decide if you were being honest. You didn't dare turn your head, you'd either fall on your face or reveal the thoughts in your head.

"Okay, good. I just wanted to make sure," he said with a smile. "I like you, (Y/N)...I don't wanna make you uncomfortable."

That tiny naive voice in the back of your mind squealed he likes me! but the more logical part of your brain ignored it. A man that looked like that was not interested in a woman who looked like you.

"I appreciate that," you mumbled. You'd only been on the treadmill for 40 minutes, but you decided that was more than enough. You wanted to get the hell outta there. You hit 'stop' on the machine and hopped off. "I'm gonna hit the shower. See you in the squad room."

"Okay. See you there."

20 minutes later, you were seated comfortably at your desk, going over some reports you needed to write.

You felt Elliot's presence before you saw him, and you did your best to act nonchalant. He walked up to the desk across from yours and leaned against it. He'd clearly showered and was now dressed in his usual slacks and a button down, sleeves rolled up to reveal his toned forearms and his tattoo.

"You smell really good," he commented. "Body wash or perfume?"

"Oh, uhh--maybe both?" It better be that damn perfume. It was expensive.

He smiled. "Well if it's the perfume, I'd recommend wearing it more often. It smells delicious." He shot you a wink before walking over to his own desk and sitting down.

You couldn't help but wonder if this man knew the effect he had on you and if that was why he was flirting with you. Was he even flirting? Hell, you had no idea. The hotter the man, the more awkward you became. You had a hell of a time reading them and it had messed you up in the past.

It's not that you had low self-esteem necessarily, it's just that you'd put on a fair amount of weight in the last couple years and it definitely affected your self-confidence. Hence why you'd started going to the gym every day...you wanted to get that young, happy, thinner version of you back.

As the day progressed, you forgot all about your encounter with Elliot that morning. It was a busy day and it flew by. Before you knew it, it was after 7pm and you were still curled up at your desk, typing away on your computer.

You heard a throat clear to your left and you turned to glare at whomever it was that dared to interrupt you. "Oh, Elliot!" you exclaimed in surprise. "I figured you'd gone home by now."

"I thought you would have too," he said with a shrug. "I'm actually just heading out now, but I wanted to see if you were hungry."

At that exact moment, your stomach let out a little grumble. You realized you'd worked straight through lunch and you were starving. "I could eat."

He raised an eyebrow. "You didn't eat lunch, so I'm betting you're starving."

He was paying that much attention? "Yeah, you're right. It's probably time to get the hell outta here anyway."

"My thoughts exactly. Come on, I'll take you home. We can get dinner on the way--my treat."

You normally took the subway, but it was after dark and the squad didn't like you walking home or riding the subway alone. "Oh, you don't have to do that."

"It's not a chore, (Y/N). We can stop anywhere you'd like."

You bit your lip as you thought about it. You really should turn him down, but if you'd learned anything in your time with SVU, it was that being a woman in New York was dangerous enough without walking alone at night.

"There's a little pizza shop by my apartment," you conceded.

He grinned. "How'd you know I was thinking pizza?"

You laughed. "You eat it all the time...you must think pizza is a vegetable."

He laughed. "It's delicious. Grab your coat."

You hurried to pack up, then you threw on your coat and followed him out to his car. It was a chilly night, but the sky was clear and the air was crisp.

Elliot made small talk on the way to the pizza place. You were thankful that he carried the majority of the conversation and you couldn't wait to have food to occupy your mouth with so you wouldn't sound like such an idiot.

"I don't think I've ever been here," he commented as he found a parking spot near the shop.

"It's the absolute best," you insisted enthusiastically.

He smiled at your animation. "This is the most excited I've ever seen you."

You blushed. "I like food."

"So do I...and I'm starving, so let's go in."

As soon as you walked in the door, you heard a thick Italian accent yell your name. "(Y/N)! Looking beautiful as ever."

You smiled at the older man, embracing him when he came around the counter for a hug. "You're too sweet, Gio."

After he released you from the bear hug, he turned to look at Elliot, clearly sizing him up. "Who is this?"

"This is Elliot. We work together," you said reassuringly. "Elliot, this is Giovanni Romano, owner and chef extraordinaire."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Elliot said as he extended his hand for a shake.

Gio looked him up and down, and apparently decided he liked him because he smiled really wide and said, "No handshakes! We hug here," before wrapping a surprised Elliot into a hug.

You laughed at the look on Elliot's face. Gio finally let him go and Elliot looked relieved, if not a little shocked.

"Maria!" Gio yelled towards the back. "La principessa is here with il innamorato."

You turned red as a tomato and prayed Elliot didn't speak Italian. "Gio!" you hissed.

"My principessa?" Maria yelled as she came out of the kitchen. She bustled over to where you were still standing by the door.

"She's Gio's wife," you whispered to Elliot a millisecond before she grabbed you in a tight hug.

She then turned her attention to Elliot. She nodded approvingly and turned to whisper to you, "Lui è bello."

You blushed again. "Sì," you mumbled back. "Now silenzio, per favore."

She smiled at you and gave your cheek an affectionate tap. "What can we get the two of you, amorino?"

You smiled. "Two of your best pies, Maria." You turned to Elliot, realizing he might not want you to order for him. "If that's okay with you."

He smiled. "I trust you."

"Two pies coming up!" Maria said with a smile. She grabbed Gio and practically dragged him towards the kitchen with her. You could hear her talking about Elliot and you in Italian and it made you laugh.

Elliot followed you to a table near the back of the small building. "So, uh...you come here often?"

You blushed. "Nearly every day when I was in school," you said honestly. "The food is delicious, cheap, and there's free WIFI. Plus, Gio and Maria have become like family to me."

"They seem really sweet."

You smiled fondly. "They're the best. I don't have any family of my own, but they both kinda took me under their wings...like an Aunt and Uncle."

"That's very kind of them."

Gio appeared with two waters, before he disappeared again with a wink in your direction.

"I didn't know you spoke Italian."

"Oh, uh, yeah. Gio and Maria taught me. I ended up minoring in Italian at NYU."

"So, uh...what did they say about me?"

"Hmmm?" you pretended not to know what he was talking about...you really didn't want to answer him.

"Come on, I know they were talking about me."

"Maria said you were handsome, that's all."

He raised his eyebrow. "Why don't I believe you?"

"She did!" you insisted.

"I don't think that's the only thing she said."

You blushed.

"You're blushing."

"It's warm in here."

"No, it's not. Just tell me what she said."

You bit your lip. "Do I have to?"

He laughed. "No, but I'd really like to know."

"Technically that's all Maria said. Gio, on the other hand...well, he called you my um...well in Italian it means 'lover', but you can think of it more like boyfriend, I guess? Or maybe more like sweetheart?" you rambled.

Elliot laughed heartily. He enjoyed watching you fumble for what to say. It was endearing and incredibly cute. "I hope you didn't correct them."

You nearly spit out your water. "What?"

"Well, if you're as close to them as you seem to be...then they would know if you were seeing someone right?"

You nodded.

"And their assumption that I'm your lover means you're not seeing anyone?"

You nodded again, clearly uncomfortable.

"Good."

"Good?"

"Yeah," he said with a smile. "Good." He picked up his water and took a long drink, eyes never leaving yours.

What the actual fuck is happening? "I'm confused."

He shrugged. "Let me put it this way, I'm honored they would think I'm your lover."

You choked on nothing but air. "Excuse me?"

He smiled again, wider than before. He leaned in closer to make sure no one but you could hear his next words. "I'd be lying if I said I haven't thought about it."

Your jaw nearly hit the floor. You stared at him in shocked silence for what felt like an eternity.

Like a little Italian savior, Maria appeared beside the table with her famous focaccia.

You grabbed a piece of the delicious bread and took a massive bite, despite the fact that it was fresh from the oven. It burned your mouth, but you didn't care. You needed something to distract you from the words Elliot had just said and the way he was staring at you.

Maria gave you look that said slow down, but she didn't say it out loud. "The rest will be out soon, amorino."

Once Maria was out of ear shot, Elliot asked, "What does amorino mean?"

"Essentially 'little love'. It's a term of endearment," you answered, grateful for the change in topic.

Elliot steered the conversation in other directions for the rest of dinner. He asked you all sorts of questions about your life and answered several of your own. He didn't mention what he'd said earlier, and you were fine pretending it hadn't happened.

After dinner, Elliot insisted on paying the bill, even though Gio tried to comp it. You knew it made Elliot look respectable in Gio's eyes and for some reason, that made you proud.

"I'll pull the car up," Elliot told you before heading outside.

"He's lovely, principessa," Gio said softly.

"I know, but he's just a friend, Gio."

"Ahh, amorino, you are young! You cannot see," he insisted.

"Can't see what?"

"The way he looks at you, (Y/N/N)," Maria said gently as she joined the two of you.

"Like you hung the moon," Gio finished.

"You two are romantics," you said with a laugh.

"Perhaps, but we are old...we've lived. We both know what it means when a man looks at a woman the way Elliot looks at you," Maria assured you.

She wrapped you in a tight hug and Gio followed.

"Now go, principessa," Maria said with a smile. "He's waiting."

You turned to look out the door and sure enough, Elliot was standing on the sidewalk, leaning against the car, waiting for you to come outside.

You said your goodbyes and met Elliot out on the sidewalk. "Fancy meeting you here," you teased.

He smiled. "It's almost like I planned it that way."

You laughed and walked towards the now open passenger side door. Elliot helped you into the car and closed the door before going to his side and getting in.

During the short drive to your apartment, you watched Elliot out of the corner of your eye. You were looking for whatever it was that Gio and Maria insisted they saw. He was relaxed, more so than he ever was at work, and he seemed genuinely comfortable. But comfort and desire were two very different things.

Much sooner than you would have liked, Elliot pulled up in front of your building. This time of night, there wasn't much by way of street parking, but he managed to snag a spot a block away. "I'll walk you in."

"You don't have to," you assured him.

"It's after 9...there are pervs on the street."

You almost laughed, but you knew he was serious. His statement wasn't funny, so much as the way he said it. "Alright, come on."

He followed you to the front door of your building. You punched in the code and the door unlocked. As you pulled it open, you had a sudden burst of confidence.

"Would you like to come up?" you blurted.

You weren't sure who was more surprised, you or Elliot. He certainly recovered faster than you. "I'd love to."

You just nodded awkwardly and held the door for him to follow you in. The two of you took the stairs in silence, a silence that continued all the way to your door. "This is me," you mumbled.

You unlocked the door without looking at him and gestured for him to enter. You were thankful you'd cleaned the apartment the day before, so everything was neat and organized.

"It's a cute place," he commented.

"Thanks," you moved to the kitchen, needing something to do with your hands. "It's all I can afford. Do you--uh, do you want a drink?"

"Sure," he said warmly as he slipped his coat off and draped it over the back of the chair.

You poured him a drink and poured yourself a double. Lord knew you needed a little more liquid courage than he did. You were taking a risk--making a gamble you weren't sure would pay off.

You came into the living room and handed him his drink before sitting on the couch beside him. You left space between you, just in case he wanted there to be some.

You were drinking your beverage a little faster than you should have and he noticed. "You alright?"

"Mhmm," you hummed.

"Is this about what I said at the restaurant?"

"Umm--uhh--"

"Because I didn't mean to offend you or make you uncomfortable."

"You didn't," you said quickly. It had made you uncomfortable, but not in the way he was thinking.

"Okay, good." He took a sip of his drink. "Because I meant it."

You exhaled sharply and he turned to look at you.

He sat his glass down on the coffee table and scooted closer to you. "I think about it all the time, (Y/N). I think about you all the time. It's almost annoying--you occupy my thoughts all day every day and I don't know how to deal with it. You make me feel like a teenager again."

You didn't know what to say. You'd dreamed of this happening, but you never actually thought it would. Now that you were sitting in this position, you had no idea what to do.

"I know I'm older than you--hell, I might be too old for you, but I can't help the way I feel. I'll never bring it up again if that's what you want, but I wanted to tell you the truth."

"You're not too old for me," you said quickly.

"How old are you?"

"30."

"Oh," he seemed almost relieved. "I thought you were younger than that...I actually feel better."

You laughed lightly. "10 years isn't all that much."

He shook his head. "Not at our ages."

You fell silent again, unsure what to say next. You finished your drink, then set it on the coffee table beside his. "Why me?"

He looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"Why would you want me?"

"Because you're incredible?"

You rolled your eyes. "Elliot, come on. Look at us."

"I don't understand."

You sighed, feeling reluctant to answer. "Look at you. Hot, muscular, in incredible shape. Then look at me. I'm none of those things--I'm overweight, frumpy, and average at best."

He stared at you in silence for a long moment, shock evident in his features. "While I appreciate the compliments, doll, that's not what I see when I look at you."

You almost didn't want to ask, but you had to know. "What do you see?" you whispered.

He moved closer to you so he could take your hand in his. "I see a beautiful woman with warm, caring eyes, and a gentle heart. I see a woman who makes me laugh, a woman who's witty and charming and brilliant. I see the kind of woman I can imagine a future with."

You were breathless by the time he'd finished speaking. No man had ever said anything like that to you before, even before you'd put on weight.

"Do you want more details? I can give you more," he said softly as he leaned forward so his body hovered over yours. You were caged in the corner of the couch and for the first time in a long time, you felt tiny.

You couldn't find the words, so you simply nodded.

He smiled down at you and licked his lips. "I see the sexiest woman I've ever met--a woman I've wanted to touch since the moment I laid eyes on her. Every part of her gorgeous body is perfect...and I want to claim it all as mine," he finished with a soft growl.

Every instinct in your body was screaming at you to just do something and you finally gave in. You wanted this as much as he did, so why not indulge?

You leaned forward and crashed your lips against his, moaning softly as he pulled you closer. He deepened the kiss, desperate to feel as much of you as he could.

You shifted beneath him, allowing him to settle between your legs. He wedged his knee against your crotch and brought his hands down to your sides.

You moaned softly as his lips began to trace your jaw line, then down your neck, then to the sweet spot behind your ear.

You felt his hot breath in your ear as he whispered, "You're so beautiful." You shivered involuntarily and your hips bucked forward in search of friction.

He chuckled softly. "Needy, are we?"

"Yes," you admitted, allowing the desperation to creep into your voice. "Need you."

"Oh sweet thing, don't you worry, I'll take care of you."

"Elliot," you whimpered softly.

He groaned. "God I love hearing you say my name like that."

He grabbed you around the waist and pulled you against him. You instinctively wrapped your legs around him and he whispered, "Good girl."

You shuddered, the praise going right to your core. It didn't go unnoticed by him, and he tucked it in the back of his mind for later.

"Where's the bedroom?"

You pointed to the right and he stood up with you still wrapped around him like a baby koala. "Elliot!" you yelped.

He smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. "Don't worry, baby, I got you."

He carried you to your room with ease, tossing you onto the bed like you weighed nothing more than a rag doll. You'd never been so turned on in your damn life.

He climbed on the bed, covering you with his large form. His lips sought yours again, latching onto you like you were his lifeline. Your left hand trailed up his back, your fingers gently clutching the hairs at the back of his head.

He continued to kiss you, but your mind began to wander. You thought about seeing him in the gym earlier that morning and your body started to heat up even more. You wanted to see all of him, not just his arm muscles.

You gripped the edge of his shirt and tugged harshly, desperate to get it off him as fast as possible. He chuckled softly as he sat up, just long enough to take off his shirt.

He was back on top of you before you could register the view--and you found yourself annoyed. An idea popped into your head and you smirked against his lips. He might be a hell of a lot stronger than you, but you had the element of surprise.

You wrapped your legs around his waist again, pulling him towards you so you could lock your ankles around him. His groan quickly turned into a gasp of surprise when you flipped him onto his back. You smiled down at him, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked lightly.

"I wanted to see you better...so I'm in control now."

He didn't often give up control anywhere, let alone the bedroom, but you looked so pleased with yourself that he couldn't help but acquiesce.

Your eyes had drifted from his face to his exposed torso. He watched as your hands followed the curve of his muscles, eyes drinking in every inch of his skin. The way you looked at him was intoxicating--it was like a drug he didn't wanna quit.

Your eyes flicked back up to his and he saw the unbridled lust in them. It took every ounce of self-control he had to not flip you over and fuck you senseless. All he could think about was hearing you screaming his name, but he knew he had to wait. He had a feeling it would be worth it.

"Can I touch you?" he asked softly.

You nodded and he immediately grabbed your hips and tugged you onto his abdomen. He wanted you to be a little bit closer so he could touch every part of you. His hands slowly slid under the hem of your shirt and for a moment, you froze--panic rising in your chest.

Elliot saw it flicker across your face, so he stopped moving, but he didn't remove his hands. He wanted to make sure you knew he was only stopping to make sure you were comfortable, not because he found something he didn't like.

"Can I keep going?" he whispered.

You nodded cautiously, so he slowly moved his hands farther up your belly. He enjoyed the feeling of your soft curves and he had a feeling he was really going to enjoy holding onto you while he fucked you.

He reached the edge of your bra and paused, waiting for you to indicate it was okay for him to continue. You didn't tell him to stop, so he slid his hands up over your breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze. You released a soft sigh and he did his best to keep moving at a slow pace, despite wanting to literally rip your clothes off.

You allowed him to pull your shirt up and over your head, and it took all the energy you had not to wrap your arms around yourself and hide. When you saw the look on his face--the hunger in his eyes--you suddenly didn't feel as self-conscious as before. Your body reacted to him in the same way his reacted to you, and you felt the desperation begin to creep in.

You shifted your hips, seeking some kind of friction against his body, while your nails raked down his chest. He groaned softly, but his hands didn't leave your body. Instead, they slipped around to your back and quickly unhooked your bra.

The moment your breasts came into full view, his hands began to massage and knead them, fingers pinching and twisting your nipples gently.

You moaned and dug your nails into his sides, gripping them for stability. He looked up at you, at your dark, lust-filled eyes, and he lost control for a moment. He flipped you onto your back so fast you let out a little yelp in surprise.

That yelp quickly turned to deep moans as his mouth attached to your breasts, sending bolts of pleasure through your body. His hands fumbled with the button and zipper of your pants--he was about 3 seconds away from ripping them when he finally got the buttons undone.

"Why are women's dress pants so complicated? There are literally THREE buttons." he mumbled against your skin.

You laughed warmly, knowing he was right. "Try wearing them sometime."

He grinned up at you. "They look better on you, but..." he tugged your pants off and tossed them onto the floor. "...just as I thought, they look much better on the floor."

You chuckled at his joke and rolled your eyes. You were about to comment on the cheesiness of his statement, when he sat up and began removing his own pants. You were so focused on watching him that you forgot what you were about to say.

You eyed his bulge when it came into view and you began to pant with need. Elliot noticed and gave you a little smirk. "Want me to take these off?" he asked, gesturing to his boxers.

You nodded rapidly.

"Sorry, baby, I didn't catch that."

"Yes, please," you said aloud.

"Good girl."

You moaned and rolled your hips involuntarily--the praise going directly to your core.

His words had the desired effect on you and it only made him want you more. He tugged off his underwear and climbed back into the bed, but you stopped him with a gasp.

"Absolutely not," you said with wide eyes.

"What?" he asked in confusion. He followed your line of sight and realized you were staring directly at his dick. "Something wrong?"

"It's not gonna fit."

Elliot nearly collapsed in relief as he started to laugh. "Baby, you had me worried for a minute." He laughed again. "Don't worry, it'll fit."

You shook your head. "I might be a big girl, but my vagina isn't."

He laughed again. "You're perfect, baby, and I promise you, I'll be gentle."

You finally looked back up at him, eyes still filled with doubt. He offered you a warm smile and it helped to put you at ease. "Okay," you murmured. "I trust you."

"That's my girl." He climbed back on top of you and kissed you deeply.

When he broke off the kiss, he began to make his way down your body, lips never more than an inch away from your skin. He was dying to taste you and he was quite certain he'd waited long enough.

When he reached your core, his eyes flicked up to yours to make sure you were watching. He grabbed ahold of the edge of your panties with his teeth and tugged on them--pulling them down your body with nothing but his mouth.

You didn't know why the hell that was so hot, but good god it was. But nothing could have prepared you for the sight of Elliot's large body between your legs, mouth mere centimeters from where you needed him. You'd never imagined he'd look this damn good, nor did you imagine you would feel so comfortable baring yourself to him completely.

Elliot locked eyes with you as he placed soft kisses to your inner thighs and your pussy lips. He breathed in your scent as he did so, and he had to grip the bedsheets to keep from losing his control.

You were panting heavily, the anticipation nearly killing you. "Elliot, please," you whimpered, hips jerking slightly.

He smiled as he placed another kiss to your mound. "Please what, baby?"

"Do something," you begged.

"Something?"

"Anything! Please!"

Normally he would have kept asking until you used your words and told him what you really wanted, but he was having a hard time resisting his own urges right now, so he decided to have mercy on you.

He dove into you with abandon, mouth working you in ways you'd never imagined. It was like having a sex god between your legs--not that you'd ever say that to him, he'd probably find it blasphemous--but in that moment, you couldn't be bothered to care.

Your nails raked against his scalp as you struggled to find purchase somewhere on his body. Your hands finally came to rest on his biceps, nails digging into his skin as you held on for dear life.

Your body jerked beneath him, the pleasure so immense that he had to hold you down to keep you from squirming away from him. He glanced back up at your face to make sure you were enjoying it--and was met with the most beautiful sight.

Your head was thrown back against the pillows, mouth open as you moaned and panted. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly with each heavy breath you took. He wished he could see your face better, but it was more than obvious you were enjoying yourself.

He somehow learned exactly what you liked, and what you needed, without you having to say a single word. You were more than pleased because you were certain you couldn't actually speak. The only sounds coming from your mouth were moans and something that closely resembled his name.

His fingertips were digging into your hips as he held you in place--his grip so tight it was sure to leave bruises. Your legs began to shake around him and your thighs started to close in on his head, but he was more than happy to wear your legs like earmuffs.

Your moans rose in volume and length, signaling you were close. Your nails dug deeper into his biceps, pressing crescent shapes into his skin. It would have been painful in any other setting, but he was more than delighted to bear the pain.

He knew you were close to orgasm, so he sped up his movements, tongue dancing against your clit with expert precision.

You gasped his name, hips jerking against him as you came. He held on tightly as he helped you ride out your high--not stopping even as you began to whimper.

"Too sensitive, Elliot," you gasped.

He lifted his head long enough to say, "I'm not done," before diving in with renewed vigor.

You gasped at the intensity of the sensations and within seconds you could feel a second orgasm building within you.

He lifted his head again. "Unless you want me to stop?"

"No!" you practically yelled. Your hand grabbed the back of his head and pushed him back down and he chuckled warmly at your insistence.

"I didn't think so," he mumbled before licking his way back into your pussy.

Unlike your first orgasm, your second hit you suddenly and quickly--rendering you nearly speechless. You could do nothing but gasp for air as wave after wave of pleasure threatened to drown you in an ocean of passion.

Elliot finally lifted his head, a satisfied smirk resting on his handsome features. You looked down at him, breathless and wide eyed, and he felt his body heat up.

He moved with such speed that it surprised you, nearly pouncing on top of you, mouth mere inches from yours. He seemed to be studying your face and for a moment you felt embarrassed--unaccustomed to such a lustful expression on another person's face.

But the way he looked at you--the desire evident in his eyes--simultaneously put you at ease and made you want him with renewed desire.

He touched your cheek, which was flushed bright red. He could feel the heat radiating from it and he liked being the cause of such a reaction. "You look beautiful like this," he whispered.

Your cheeks turned a darker crimson and he smiled, knowing he'd caused that as well. "I like you like this," he murmured. "Laid out beneath me, pretty eyes wide, lips parted, hair a mess...I've never seen anything so sexy."

"Elliot," you whispered. You didn't know what else to say, so you let your body do the talking for you. You tugged him down to you, lips latching onto his as you kissed him hungrily.

He lowered himself to be closer to you, careful not to put his weight on top of you--he didn't want to hurt you. His hands tangled in your hair as he deepened the kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

You moaned softly, hips pressing upward against his pelvis. His cock brushed against your core, earning a groan from deep in his chest.

You liked the sound he made and you were desperate to hear more of them, so you did it again, this time more slowly and with more pressure. He pressed against you, his own body seeking friction of its own volition.

You slipped your dominant hand between your bodies and wrapped it around the base of his cock, squeezing gently as you stroked upward. He groaned and his hips bucked against your hand.

Even though he was on top of you, you felt like you were in control...and you were going to use it to your advantage. You slipped the head of his cock between your folds, sliding it upward against your clit. He groaned and bit down into the soft flesh of your neck and you gasped at the mixture of pain and pleasure.

You were about to do it again, but Elliot pulled just out of reach. "Baby if you keep doing that, I'm gonna lose control."

Your eyes widened innocently. "What if that's exactly what I want?"

His eyes widened in surprise. "What?" he croaked.

"What if I want you to lose control? What if I like the idea of you fucking me like a feral wild animal? I want you to fuck me so well I can't walk tomorrow. Make me scream, Elliot. Please."

The seductive tone in your voice morphed into a plea at the end--a plea Elliot could not refuse. Not when you looked so gorgeous and needy beneath him...not when you said his name like that...not when you begged him to fuck you like he'd been dreaming about for months.

He grabbed his cock and began to rub it gently against your entrance, earning soft moans of pleasure from you. He knew you would feel incredible, but he was trying to hang onto whatever sanity he had left.

"Relax for me, baby," he whispered gently. He felt the tension in your body ease a little, but he needed you to be completely relaxed or he was definitely going to hurt you.

He gently rubbed circles into your hips, trying to calm your racing heart. "I've got you, doll. I'll go real slow, okay?"

You nodded, expression still worried.

"Hey," he whispered, leaning forward to kiss you softly. "You tell me to stop, I stop, okay? No matter what."

"I don't want you to stop," you whispered.

He smiled gently. "Just in case, baby." He kissed you again before assuming his previous position. "Just relax, beautiful. It'll feel so good--I know you're ready for me."

You relaxed your body as much as you could, but nothing could have properly prepared you for the stretch you were about to experience.

Elliot began to slowly enter you, eyes never leaving your face. Every time you winced or inhaled sharply, he wanted to stop, but you told him to keep going.

Once he fully bottomed out, your breathing was ragged as your body adjusted to his size. He was using every ounce of will power he'd ever had to just stay still.

"You're doing so well for me, baby," he managed to groan out. "Such a good girl."

Your pussy spasmed around him as the words "good girl" registered in your brain. You suddenly needed him to move...

The moment he felt you clench around him, something inside of him snapped and it was game over for him. Whatever self-control he'd had went out the window and he started to move, setting a fast pace from the start.

Your cries mixed with his groans as he slammed into you with force. Somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind, he worried he was hurting you, but one look at your face shut that voice down instantly.

You looked much like you did when he'd been eating you out, only this time he had a view of your face. It was a sight to behold--one he didn't think he'd ever get over.

"You feel so good, baby," he whispered.

"Please, El--" you whimpered.

He wasn't sure what you needed and you didn't appear to be in any position to tell him, so he decided to take matters into his own hands. He shifted his body so your hips were angled up, one leg on either side of head. As he thrust into you, you cried out desperately, hands fisting the sheets beside you.

He felt as the head of his cock hit that soft spot inside you--and he knew he couldn't stop now. He kept up his pace, slamming into your g-spot with each thrust.

The sounds coming from your mouth were incredible--he wanted to hear them every single day for the rest of his life. You were shaking with pleasure, body writhing against him as he struggled to keep you in place.

He needed to feel you cum around his cock at least once before he found his own release...so all of his focus was on getting you to your next orgasm.

He started to murmur dirty things to you, noticing the way your body reacted to his words. "Your pussy feels so good, baby. So tight and warm--I could stay here all night."

You were way too far gone to respond verbally, but your body told him everything he needed to know.

"You're taking me so well--squeezing so tight."

He placed soft, sloppy kisses to your calves, hips never slowing their intense pace.

"This is my pussy, you hear me? Mine. I'm gonna make sure she feels so good, baby."

You moaned loudly--clearly liking the idea of being his.

"You like that, huh? You like knowing you're mine? Like knowing I'm marking you? No one else will ever compare, baby--gonna ruin you."

"Elliot!" you screamed as your orgasm came crashing down on you. Your pussy spasmed around his cock, squeezing him so tightly he could hardly breathe.

The feeling of your orgasm triggered his own, sending him spiraling over the edge with a deep groan and whispers of your name. He filled you with his seed, letting your legs fall to either side of his hips as he stuttered his last few thrusts.

He collapsed on top of you, whispering your name against your skin like a prayer. He kissed your jaw and your neck--the affection warming your heart as you lay beneath him, slowly coming down from your high.

After several moments, Elliot pulled out of you and rolled onto his back. You both lay on the bed, breathless, as you tried to regain control of your heart rates.

Elliot grabbed your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours as he lay beside you. He turned to look at you and he smiled, taking in your beautiful post-sex glow.

You turned your head to look at him and smiled warmly. "That was..."

"Fucking incredible."

"I was gonna say decent," you teased.

He laughed and jokingly rolled away from you.

"Come back! I was kidding!" you called after him.

He kept laughing as he looked over his shoulder at you. "Come get me then."

"I can't move," you said simply.

He rolled back towards you, body now facing you. "Oh yeah? And it was just decent?"

"Decent--best sex of my life--same thing."

He grinned wolfishly and leaned in to kiss you. "That's more like it."

You rolled your eyes and affectionately smacked his arm. "Cocky, are we?"

"I know what I'm good at," he said with a shrug.

"Smart ass," you teased.

"But you like my ass," he teased back.

"It does look nice in those jeans you sometimes wear. Makes me wanna bite it."

"Oooo, kinky."

You both laughed.

Elliot looked down and his expression immediately sobered.

"What's wrong?"

"I--I didn't--I was so caught up..."

"What?"

He looked back up at you, a look of regret on his handsome face. "I didn't even think about putting on a condom, (Y/N)...I--God, I'm so sorry."

You shrugged. "No need to worry. I trust that you're clean."

"I am," he assured you. "But what about...pregnancy?"

"Oh," you brushed him off. "We definitely don't need to worry about that. I have a tiny sperm murderer living in my uterus."

"You have a what?"

You laughed. "I have an IUD."

He started laughing too. "Oh! 'Sperm murderer'..." he mumbled as he laughed even harder.

You grinned ear to ear. "I was gonna call it a tiny copper knight defending my honor, but I figured that was too much."

"You're so weird," he teased. "Come here."

You giggled as he grabbed you and dragged you against his chest. He held you tightly as he kissed your skin softly. "You're so beautiful," he whispered.

"Elliot..."

"You are," he insisted.

For the first time in a long time, you felt truly beautiful, but more importantly, you felt seen. He knew who you were and wanted you anyway. He liked you for you...and he liked your body, which was really just a bonus.

"What are you thinking about?"

"If we should get a shower...or go for round two?"

He groaned softly. "I'm an old man, doll."

You rolled over so you were on top of him. "Well that's just a pity...there's so much I wanna do to you."

His eyes seemed to burn as he looked at you. There was absolutely no way in hell he could say no to you. "You're gonna be the death of me."

"At least you'll die a happy man."

He grinned. "No man has ever been happier."

Before you could respond, he grabbed you and pulled you down to him, slamming his lips against yours in a bruising kiss. Your last coherent thought before Elliot sent you into orgasmic oblivion again was I guess that's a yes for round two.

[takes1]

HI I LOVE UR WRITING

can i req a fic for iwa :000 maybe reader comes w him to the gym and he can clearly see her blushing at him workin out n his body 😔 the rest can be up to u :))

iwaizumi hajime x reader mutual gym thirst

hi!!! thank you so much!! really liked this idea :) i used his timeskip interest to help with some structure here, but i hope i got enough right!

warnings. sfw-ish, thirsty info. iwa's hot bod / charged staring / mutual crushing / questionable touching / will-they-won't-they kinda vibe / oikawa being a nuisance / oikawa moving things along / athletic!reader / injured!reader / 1.4k words haikyuu collection. more here! more links. my ao3. masterlist. requests open!

You never once thought of what your school gym's layout could really do for you before this afternoon.

There was absolutely no reason to, until a certain tall, dark, and handsome brute took a liking to the power rack in front of the treadmill you were tied to for the next half-hour.

Part of your training plan required 40 monotonous minutes of incline walking- so a longer variation of the tried-and-true 12-3-30 became your new ritual after your team's practice. Shin splits weren't going to go away on their own, after all.

So, you and your defective shins were already married to this spot. When he walked his beefy ass to a spot so ideal for watching, you couldn't help but feel a little creepy.

This light dusting of shame didn't stop your eyes from wandering, though. You were too tired from a long practice and longer physical therapy to truly keep your gaze glued to the numbers on the screen.

That near-pornographic muscle-tee he wore at least twice a week was in rotation today.

It was soaked through; light blue now dark, from the cardio that he just finished outside with his partner and current spotter.

"Come ooon, you can get that up," Oikawa smirked, knowing damn well he needed to help Iwa get the bar racked.

He laughed at his friend's shaky struggle, himself even surprised when the bar slammed against the metal holds.

"Fucking prick," Iwa grumbled with very little air in his lungs.

The dark tone on his tongue raised your brow. You looked at the ceiling with a big exhale to get the thoughts out of your head.

This crush was much more manageable when it was confined to passing glances in the hall.

He was panting as he sat up. You looked back down just in time to watch him remove his useless, sticky shirt.

Sure, the hip-deep slits down the sides didn't leave so much to the imagination, but this was still so much better.

You bit the inside of your cheek and squeezed your eyes shut to keep from making any ridiculous faces, but the image of his bouncy chest and twitchy, heavy biceps were burned into your eyelids.

They had to switch out the weight between turns, so when he took the side of the rack closest to you, you were able to stare at his working back muscles without any repercussions. It was akin to crashing ocean waves between his shoulder blades. He set a plate gently onto the floor.

His skin glistened in the moody lighting. The veins in forearms were plump with effort.

"You feeling okay, (Y/n)?"

Oikawa gave an all-too-knowing grin at you when you locked eyes with him.

Heat crept up your neck- as if you needed to feel any hotter- and horribly embarrassed, you couldn't craft a response to his smartass comment.

Thankfully, Iwa glanced back at your downcast expression and scoffed at his friend.

"They're out on injury right now. Chill out, dude," Iwa came to your rescue, thankfully mistaken to the nature of his remark.

Oikawa looked frustrated that his jab didn't land the way he wanted it to.

You stuck your tongue out at him when Iwa wasn't looking and got one right back.

Now that you were under suspicion, you had more motivation to not stare at him anymore. It just wasn't worth getting found out.

This aversion to looking in their direction allowed the more lively of the two to whisper something with a smirk without you catching him.

Only five minutes remained on your screen when Oikawa climbed up onto the treadmill next to yours, despite the four empty ones further away.

An eye roll. You swiped the sweat off of your face and flicked it at him.

He didn't even get the chance to say anything snarky before Iwa noticed his absence.

"Stop being an ass," He grumbled.

"I didn't say anything!"

He wiped down of the rest of the bench, grabbed his shirt, and stood between the two treadmills. He motioned between you.

"You're being obnoxious," Iwa asserted, "Go somewhere else."

He sure as Hell wasn't happy about it, but he gave in to his friend's wishes. This would be interesting enough without him needing to interfere-- he kept a watchful, cheeky eye on both of you from across the gym.

"So, they got you doin' this," He put his hand on the side of the machine, brow furrowed in concern, "God, isn't that a bit much?"

There was no way you could speak to him without ending this. You pressed stop on your workout, thankful to be done with a good enough excuse.

You set your hands on your hips and tried to get your breathing back to normal. Your shins were burning.

"I hope not," You shrugged and wiped the sweat off of your face with the collar of your shirt.

He rested the side of his face on his slick forearm and looked you up and down.

You tensed at the motion and looked to the side.

"Can I take a look?"

A strong twitch of embarrassed confusion on your face forced him to clarify immediately:

"Your legs- I mean," He laughed.

You knew he would assist the head PT every other day for injured student athletes that came through the training room. It was a way for him to get some experience in before he went for a degree.

It just so happened that it never aligned with your schedule, so even though he knew you had become a regular, he never got to assess you.

You tried not to limp on the way across the gym.

"Jesus..." He muttered as you sat your leg onto his lap, "Yeah, that's... fucked."

The little stretching corner was otherwise unoccupied, but you couldn't help but feel like your proximity was too much. Your head was craned around to make sure there were no teachers or staff around to yell at you- but flipped back around with small yelp at his hand.

You laughed and flinched away at his cold fingers, "Thanks."

He didn't react to you.

"I mean, like..."

Iwa was completely taken by how swollen your lower legs had gotten, he wasn't even finishing his sentences. His concentration was super cute. A little concerning, but cute.

He walked you through some new stretches that the head PT didn't care to show you; the more he informed you about the nature of your pain, the less you were trusting the old fellow that you had been seeing.

He supported you as you attempted a tough stretch and quickly reassured you to not push it. You let up as he suggested, hands trembling against his forearms.

"Juuust like that, yeah," He said gently next to your head.

Your face lit up and stopped, too embarrassed to keep this going. Maybe you did prefer that old, crusty, trained professional over him.

Concerned, he ducked to look at your expression, but you quickly evaded.

"Did that hurt too bad?" He asked.

You deliberated on lying but decided against it.

When you glanced back up at him and shook your head, he had a smile on his face that you couldn't quite rationalize.

The focus on 'strengthening' your shins seemed to Iwa like it was just making the issue worse. He recommended resting as much as possible.

His touch and his attentive gaze helped you manage the discomfort you felt going through the motions. He was always waiting for your reaction, gauging how he needed to shift you based on your facial expressions.

"Let me get you some ice," He snapped a couple times, deep in thought, "I wanna try that new wrap, too--,"

He jogged off into the clinic's room and flipped on the light.

In the mirror-wall you caught a glimpse of Oikawa at the free weights. He started blowing kisses in your direction and only stopped when Iwa hurried back out.

"Y'know, I can always make some extra time to check on this after practice."

Your expression softened.

Iwa knelt down next to you. He scanned the damage carefully before sitting, and took one leg into his lap again.

"I couldn't let you do that," You sighed and seethed at the contact.

There wasn't much more room to be gentle, so you just had to endure.

He layered everything slowly, firmly but not too tight, and would take the time to fix the stretchy tape if it got twisted. The actual therapist never spent this much time on you like this.

"Well," Iwa prodded at his finished work, "You can just... give me your number, and we can work something out?"

It may have been the ice, but the chills that ran up your spine were difficult to hide.

"Sure," You smiled.

It felt like you were agreeing to something a little less medical in nature.

He helped you to a stand and supported you for a few seconds too long.

"Sweet," Brushed off his lips in a consumed sigh.

masterlist.

requests/submissions: open

[elliesflower]

hii, i love your work so much <3 can u write smth about reader and abby (in a pre established relationship) where readers mind just goes completely blank as she stares at abbys arms when she works out or literally does anything and abby notices and fucks her hard and uses her strength to do whatever she wants with reader? would also be nice if u could write smth about overstimulation <3 i know its not a noticeable detail for this req but pls write black!reader bc i am too and need some abby for myself tysm 🫶

what you need [abby anderson]

pairing; abby x black fem!reader

cw; top!abby, bottom!reader, strap-on usage (r!recieving), overstimulation, dirty talk/gendered pet names, kinda leaning on bimbo/subspace territory

an; thank u so much for this request sweetheart! i hope u enjoy, please let me know what u think!! i'm sorry the ending is a little rushed, i've literally been trying to post this for like three weeks lmfao. also i did not proofread this v well so if u see a mistake no u dont <3

tags; @scandalcus @prrimordiais @roarriita

18+ only, mdni!!!!

you don’t consider yourself weak. 

but when you were looking at abby, perhaps you were. just a bit. 

“babe? the chalk,” abby’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts and you shook your head slightly, as if it would get rid of them, reaching behind you to grab the chalk before crossing the room to hand it to her. 

“thanks,” she didn’t even look at you, and you almost huffed. you’ve been with her at the gym for what feels like hours now, even though it’s probably only been more like thirty minutes. you started out just walking on the treadmill, but got bored pretty quickly when you realized you could be watching your girlfriend train instead. 

she was training for a pr on her deadlift, and she was getting close. you’d barely seen her this week—when she wasn’t on patrol, she was in the gym. you fell asleep before she got home almost every night, and when you woke up, she was already gone. it was driving you crazy, and now that you were together, she still was barely paying you any mind. 

she rubbed the chalk between her hands, clapping them out on her thighs before positioning herself behind the bar. you sat back down behind her and watched as she bent over, gripping the metal bar, her forearms flexing as she adjusted her grip. you practically had to wipe the drool away from your mouth as you watched her begin to lift, admiring the way her veins popped out from beneath her skin, her shoulders glistening with sweat as her muscles flexed with the effort it took to lift the weights. 

her brows were knit together in concentration as she watched herself in the mirror, gritting her teeth together and keeping her breath as controlled as possible. you couldn’t help but to feel flustered as she panted, imagining the sounds in a…much different context.

the sound of the weights clattering to the ground snapped you out of your head for a second time, and you flinched, watching as abby smiled at herself in the mirror, flexing and slapping her bicep. 

“yeah, that’s right,” she spoke, and oh, that sounded eerily similar to her bedroom voice, “that’s what i’m fucking talking about! did you see that shit?” she turned to face you now, still grinning from ear-to-ear. “beat my pr by forty pounds, i gotta get manny in here tomorrow to verify because that shit is going up on the board.”

you smiled up at her, nodding—but it was kind of hard when you were also focused on pressing your thighs together, trying to ignore the fact that somewhere along the line, your panties had become damp, sticking delicately to your folds as you watched abby training. her mouth twitched just slightly at the corner, and you swallowed. you knew abby could read you like the back of her hand, no matter how hard you tried to hide from her. 

“something wrong, baby?” she asked, feigning concern. her tank top was covered in sweat around the neckline, her forehead glistening under the fluorescents as she walked toward you. you shook your head, a bit too quickly, and it was telling. your throat felt dry, your brain absolutely scrambled as you looked up at her. she stopped directly in front of you, towering over you so that you had to strain your neck to look up at her. if there wasn’t a giant wall of windows to the left of you, you couldn’t be sure you wouldn’t just sink down to your knees and kiss her fucking feet. she looked like an angel—scratch that, god—above you as you watched her through your lashes, stomach tying in knots. 

she wasn’t saying anything. she was just looking at you, breathing heavy, with half of that stupid smile still on her face. you focused your own breathing, in and out, but it didn’t help that she was so close you could smell her, sweaty musk that could only smell good on her, and it was making you dizzy. and she fucking knew it too. 

“alright then,” she said finally, bending down to your level so that your faces were mere inches apart. “what d’you say we go clean up and meet jordan and leah for dinner?” oh, right. there was that. you could only nod, and abby’s eyes were wild, flickering down to your mouth before meeting yours again. 

“let’s go.” her voice was sharp, commanding, and she went to retrieve her gym bag. you sat silently for another moment, trying to will yourself to calm down, just a bit. you knew you’d get back to the room and she wouldn’t be able to resist—she’d have you pinned up against the wall before you could even blink. 

except, she didn’t. she tossed her bag to the ground and began gathering things for her shower, effectively ignoring, even as you changed out of your shirt extra slowly, just waiting for her to turn around and catch you. but she didn’t, and didn’t even say another word as she slipped out the door to take a shower. you scrunch your brows together, lips pouting slightly as you get dressed for dinner, making sure to put on a clean pair of underwear. you were so worked up, part of you wanted to touch yourself, right here and now—but you didn’t even want to think about how long abby might make you wait if she came back and found you knuckle deep in your pussy. so you didn’t.

dinner with leah and jordan was pleasant. leah’s cooking was insane, as always, and jordan and abby caught up on some big assignment that was coming up, still paying you little attention. after dinner, you were excited to get back to your room, practically salivating at the thought of what abby might do to you, but jordan just had to suggest watching a movie. and of course, abby just had to agree. 

you were a bit surprised when abby pulled you onto her lap on the couch, seeing as she had practically been avoiding you like the plague since the gym, and oh—she was packing.

leah rested her head on jordan’s lap on the loveseat beside you, their bodies conveniently angled just so that you were out of view. your eyes widened, breath hitching as abby snaked her arm around your waist, pulling you further back into her as she readjusted her position against the couch, effectively grinding her hips up into you. you bit your lip as you leaned back into her, glancing over at leah and jordan to confirm they couldn’t see you. she smelled like pine and her hair was down, fuck she looked so good with her hair down. 

“wassa’ matter babe?” abby whispered against your neck, and you shivered. “you’re so tense.” she punctuated her point with a hand on your shoulder, her thumb pressing into the junction of your neck. 

“nothing,” you lied, trying to keep your voice quiet and steady. “just watching the movie.” and thinking about abby flipping you over and railing you into next week. but you didn’t say that part. you didn’t even know what movie was playing. 

“mhm,” she murmured behind you, her hand trailing around your middle to meet her other, pressing you even further against her. you could feel her cock pressing into your ass, and you had to bite back a moan. you reached to grasp at her wrists, your fingers not even wrapping around the girth of them, trying to grind your hips for just a little bit of friction—anything, you’d take anything you could get at this point—but she only tightened her grip, halting your movements. 

“stop squirming,” she said quietly. “m’trying to watch the movie.” it was really unfair, how her voice was so steady, and her breathing so even. meanwhile, you thought you might explode, nails digging into her skin as you tried your best to ignore the heat in your stomach, and how you were definitely ruining this pair of panties as well. 

she held you like that, for a few minutes longer, or hours, maybe, how long was this fucking movie? your pussy was clenching and unclenching, your heart beating out of control as you tried to ignore the feeling of abby beneath you to no avail. 

suddenly, thankfully, she relinquished her hold on your waist, smoothing her hands down the expanse of your bare thighs. 

“hey, i’m getting pretty tired. i’ve gotta be up pretty early, i think we’re gonna turn in,” she said over the movie, and jordan craned his neck to look at the pair of you standing up. you really hoped your face didn’t give away how insanely flustered you felt. leah was passed out in his lap, and he gave you both a nod and bid you goodnight. 

in the hallway, abby was back to ignoring you. you could barely keep up with her as she strode ahead. you were aching at this point, genuinely surprised you weren’t leaking straight down your thighs as you watched her back muscles flex beneath her shirt. you loved this game. and she knew it too. 

she stopped just outside your door, leaning against the frame and crossing her arms as she waited for you to unlock it. before you could get both feet through the doorway, she was right behind you, chest pressing against your back as she ushered you inside, closing the door behind her and spinning you around so that she could press you against it. you gasped, flattening your palms against the door as you looked at her, your head trapped between her arms. you burned under her gaze, stomach tightening and legs going weak. 

“don’t think i didn’t see your face in the mirror while i was training,” she said quietly, grabbing the back of your neck to keep your eyes on her. you were so fucking horny you didn’t have the semblance to be ashamed as she all but taunted you.

“hm? just watching me work out gets you all hot and bothered?” you felt like your neck might snap from nodding so hard. abby laughed quietly at you, the sound only turning you on more. 

“yeah i know, because you know i could take you any way i wanted and you wouldn’t even have to lift a finger. so fucking spoiled,” she was teasing you, and you whined. “you’ve been so patient with me this week,” she pressed her lower half against you, using her hand to press the side of your face into the door, making you once again aware of the silicone cock in her pants. she could feel your pulse thrumming against her fingers, exciting her. “gonna make it all better now, okay? i’m gonna give you what you need…” her lips were ghosting over your ear, and you were quite literally trembling in her grasp, taking in a shaky breath as you waited patiently. 

“so good for me,” she grabbed you by the jaw, before she placed a kiss on your lips and pulled back, causing you to let out a pitiful whine. 

“tell me what you want,” her lids were heavy as she looked at you, her poor, poor baby—lips parted, eyes glazed over, panting with a desperate need. you pouted slightly. surely she’d give in, right? she’s already had you waiting for so long. 

she gripped your jaw tighter, making you gasp as she pressed you further into the door. you were helpless, completely at her mercy, her strength always hyper evident when she had you like this. “c’mon, tell me what you want.” you felt tears welling in your eyes, balling your hands into fists as she watched your face. 

“use me,” your voice broke through, small and weak. somehow, abby’s face remained stoic, though you saw her draw in a sharp breath. she pulled her hand away to tap at your cheek, not quite a slap, but enough that you were whining. 

“manners,” she reprimanded, withdrawing her hand completely. you let a tear fall as you were overcome with frustration, emptiness–

“please, use me, please abby, i missed you,” and it was pathetic, how a sob escaped your lips. but it was okay, because you knew she’d make it all better, her eyes going soft for a moment before she was pulling you in, slotting your lips together in a messy kiss. you could taste as your tears mixed with saliva, letting her suck your tongue into her mouth before trailing her hands down to your ass, grabbing a handful and squeezing. 

“jump,” she mumbled against your lips, and you obliged, letting her pull you in as you wrapped your legs around her waist. she carried you across the room with ease, and you couldn’t help but try to press deeper against her lower half.

“so fuckin’ pretty baby,” she mumbled against you, and she was setting you down on the table. “was so hard to not to just bend you over that couch and fuck you like you deserve,” oh god, oh fuck, you were moaning against her mouth, letting her hands find the hem of your shirt before she was pulling it off over your head, exposing your breasts. 

“bet you’d like that, hm? letting me fuck you in front of our friends, show them how dirty you really are?” she rasped, her voice holding a desperate edge. you whined at the notion, the fact that she was just as desperate for you as you were for her. you nodded pathetically as she rubbed a thumb across your sensitive nipples, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth as you gripped the edge of the table. 

she dipped her head down, swirling her tongue over one of your nipples and you threaded your fingers through her hair, gripping tightly as your head fell back in ecstasy, mouth falling open in a silent moan. she kissed her way back up to your mouth as you panted heavily. she wasn’t even teasing you, she was so desperate, the heat radiating off her body as she continued messily kissing up to your neck, your jaw, back to your mouth where she parted your lips with her own, fumbling with the button of your jeans. 

“yeah, i know baby, i know,” her voice was like velvet, scratchy and soft at the same time against your lips. “just need me to take care of you, huh? that it?” she was practically manhandling you to lift your hips up and pull off your pants and panties, your tailbone connecting rather harshly with the wooden table once you were exposed—you didn’t have the semblance to be embarrassed at how it barely even hurt as your body was overwhelmed with adrenaline, with desire, with abby. 

“yes, god,” you threw your head back, wrapping your legs around her waist to draw her in closer as she sucked a fresh mark into your neck, and then another, and another, leaving you grinding helplessly against her, your wetness allowing you to rub your clit directly against the bulge in her pants. your whining was pornographic, desperate and loud, the friction clouding your mind with ecstasy. “missed you so much, abs, please–”

“fuckin’ needy,” she gritted, pressing on your lower back to get you even closer, eliciting a gasp from your mouth as you clutched onto her shoulder with one hand while the other kept you steady on the table. “barely been a week and you just need it that bad, can’t even wait for my cock?” her words were filthy, and your grinding even filthier, desperate and rough, like you were a bitch in heat—abby’s strong arm was keeping you in place as you took your pleasure, the feeling overwhelming your body as you panted and gasped, and oh, since when were you able to cum this fast? “c’mon baby, that’s it– take what you need, i got you.”

it must have barely been five seconds before you were losing it, body tensing as your hips stuttered, feeling your wetness absolutely drenching the front of abby’s pants. “oh m’godm’godfuckingchrist–” you babbled incoherently as she held you through it, murmuring praises and trying to hide her own groans by biting down into your shoulder. your used clit was puffy and sore against the rough fabric of her pants as you came down, whining as abby reached between your bodies. 

“such a fucking good girl, my god,” she praised, giving you no time to recover as she ran her fingers through your slick folds. you moaned, your thighs closing around her arm instinctively as she explored your wetness, slipping two fingers inside with ease. 

“abby, s’too much, please,” your voice was pitiful, broken and whiny as you gripped her arm, your words inconsistent with the way your walls fluttered around her fingers as she opened you up, unable to resist her, even when it felt like too much—because you know it wasn’t too much. in fact, maybe it wasn’t enough. abby knew your body, exactly how you needed to be taken apart, brought to your peak and taken care of.

“yeah? you don’t want this then?” she taunted, and took her fingers out so that she was just teasing your entrance. 

“no!” you gasped, the empty feeling making your stomach twist, tears streaming down your face. “please, i- i can take it, please, i’m sorry,” you begged, would practically say anything or do anything at this point. but you knew abby wouldnt make you wait long, smirking at you before pressing her fingers back in just as quickly as she’d pulled out. she couldn’t resist you, especially after not having you for an entire week. 

“i know you can baby, such a good girl,” she was working her fingers into you rapidly now, determined to make you come on her fingers again before she impaled you on her strap.and it wouldn’t take long, what with your sensitive cunt being abused again. you were shaking, could feel your wetness pooling beneath you, ruining the table as you moaned and panted. “c’mon, let go for me baby, let go,” her voice washed over you, started as the sweat on your hairline until it was making your stomach twist, your thighs tremble and your toes curl, your pussy gushing out for the second time already that night. 

“fuck,” you whined, clenching desperately around nothing as she pulled her fingers out of you, digging your nails into her shoulder as she ran a finger over your swollen clit again, making you gasp out her name, broken and pitiful. your heart was beating out of your chest, watching abby draw her fingers up to your mouth. your lips parted automatically, allowing her to press her fingers in, pressing down on your tongue as you sucked your juices off of her. 

“yeah, that’s it,” she breathed. “clean up your mess baby.” so full of love and adoration, but she wanted more. you could see it in her eyes as they flashed something wild, and knew she wasn’t planning on stopping. watching your pleasure was doing something to her she couldn’t even explain, practically moaning at the sight and feeling of you sucking on her fingers.

you were tired, your multiple orgasms after a dry spell catching up to you quickly, and abby could sense your sudden change in demeanor—your eyes drooping slightly as you sucked lazily on her fingers, your index finger holding onto one of her belt loops to keep you upright. you were a sight, your juices spilled all over the table, your thighs sticky and messy with your arousal. she almost took pity on you, almost. but she knew her good girl could take just one more. 

and you knew it too, what with the way she was looking at you. the thought made you feel dirty, and made you moan around her fingers, grasping on her wrist as you started sucking on them just a little bit harder, that little flame in your tummy igniting once more. you watched abby’s eyes darken as you sped up, her chest rising and falling quicker as she felt your tongue wrapping around her fingers.

“oh m’god, baby,” she groaned, and she withdrew her fingers, a string of saliva dribbling down your chin as she shuffled backwards to undo her pants. “i gotta fuck you baby, gotta give you what you deserve,” she was rambling as you leaned back on your elbows, your legs twitching as the cool air washed over your damp pussy, on display for your girlfriend. “gonna give you this cock baby don’t worry.”

“please abby,” and unspoken was please take care of me, please fuck me, please do anything you want to me, and she would. there was no doubt. you could barely see the black silicone spring free from down the line of your body as you were laid back on the table. 

“i know baby, i know,” abby gripped your hip with one hand, her blunt nails digging into the flesh with a delicious sting, and you tried to pull back when the tip of her strap brushed over your over-sensitive clit. it made your brain all fuzzy, your whole body tingling with the over-sensitivity, the push and pull of wanting more but feeling so used. “just let me in, you can take it,” she was practically cooing, teasing your entrance as you writhed on the table, tears streaming down your cheeks as you tried to watch. 

“abby!” you cried as she pushed past the tight ring of muscle, your back arching so that you sat up higher, the angle pressing her cock right against your most delicate spot. abby’s hand immediately came around to your back, holding you up before you dead-weighted and hit your head on the wooden table. 

“i got you, angel, you’re okay,” she was mesmerized, watching the way your body responded to her. you were so fucked out, the feeling of her cock stretching you out making you whine and pant and feel so fucking dirty. “c’mon baby, sit up. hands around my neck, you can do it,” she was pulling you up, and you obliged, reaching up to wrap your arms lazily around her neck. she snaked both arms around your waist and lifted you up off the table, causing you to cry out and bury your face into her neck. 

“that’s it, just relax,” she kept herself nestled deep inside you, almost pressed against your cervix when you wrapped your legs around her waist and whined pitifully, the sound muffled by abby’s shirt. her hands snaked down to your ass to keep you spread open as she held you still and began to thrust slowly up into your sore cunt. 

“oh m’god abby, jesus,” you cried as she fucked into you with seemingly no effort, your wet pussy making obscene noises each time she pulled out. you were already teetering right on the edge, and the feeling of her cock filling you up was going to be your downfall. she groaned each time she felt you tensing in her grip, and she was faltering with her own arousal. 

“such a good fucking girl,” she was almost growling, and you were so close, so fucking close, your juices dribbling out indecently around her as she fucked you to overstimulation. “taking everything i give you…is my pretty girl going to come again for me? hm?” you could do nothing but nod as abby bounced you up and down on her thick cock, desperate to bring you to your release. 

“well c’mon then,” she whispered against the side of your face and your eyes rolled back into your head as your pussy tightened around her, nearly suffocating her with your arms as your body was overwhelmed by your third orgasm of the night. a broken mantra of abby abby abby abby spilling from your lips as you tumbled over the edge again. 

“that’s it baby, fuck,” abby’s voice was almost as broken as yours, pulling you closer into her hips as you cried into her shoulder. 

“my fucking best girl.”

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 10, Uneasy - Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mentions of sex, insecurity, nosey gossip, some shady actions, Jade Carthage (she's the worst), Pocket's approaching her bullshit limit.

Word Count: 4.1k

Previously On...: You had a good heart-to-heart with Pepper, who suggested you start going back to therapy to deal with your constant feelings of jealousy and insecurity.

A/N: ::lobs shit at fan like hand grenades:: I'm sorry. I was up writing Chapter 20 from about 6pm yesterday through 5am this morning, and I'm pleased to say it's finished! I think it's the longest so far, with ten parts. And it's dark. I can't believe how dark I went with it, as it was absolutely not my intention, but there was a lot of negative stuff that needed to happen, and I kinda wanted to keep it to one chapter so I didn't have to dwell on it. I might have to take a day or two off from writing to kind of clear my head and reset my emotions, lol.

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!)  @jmeelee @cazellen @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @erelierraceala @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @jupiter-107 @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls

Your feet pounded the treadmill, sweat dripping down your forehead, breathing heavy. You were approaching the end of your ten-mile run and about to go into your cool-down in the Avengers’ training facility of the Tower. Bucky had left early that morning for a training session with Jade. Between his obligations and your therapy sessions, you were seeing each other less than ever before– and having less sex. Between all the additional training sessions and demands on his time, you’d sometimes be lucky if you got a kiss goodnight from Bucky, let alone getting him to make you come. You tried to convince yourself that wasn’t the end all, be all, but you were left with a plethora of pent-up sexual energy that needed to be released. You'd thought about taking Nat up on her offer for a sparring session, but every time you closed your eyes, all you saw was Bucky in less than family-friendly situations, and you knew if you had any hope of going up against the Black Widow, you needed all of your wits about you, so the treadmill it was. At least this way, you could let your mind wander without getting your ass kicked.

The treadmill slowed itself to a stop and you pulled your earbuds from your ears while you caught your breath. Picking up your hand towel, you wiped at the sweat on your face and took a look around the training room. The space was occupied by SHIELD agents in various states of exercise, but you noticed a small crowd had gathered around one of the sparring mats in the far corner of the room. Curiosity getting the better of you, you grabbed your water bottle and made your way over to see what was going on. People moved aside to let you by, and you heard whispers of "his girlfriend" as they watched you  pass, so you knew that, whatever people were gawking at, Bucky had to be at the center of it. 

When you reached the front of the crowd, your eyes were immediately drawn to Bucky as he moved slowly around his opponent in a predatory circle, sweatpants riding low and showcasing his Adonis belt, and for a brief moment, you saw yourself on your knees, running your tongue along the defined musculature. You shook your head to clear it of the image. God, you needed his dick. Desperately.

You focused instead on the way his body moved, lithe and graceful on his bare feet, like a lion ready to pounce on its prey. And the prey... Well, fuck. His prey was Jade Carthage, and she looked ready to devour him as they circled each other. They danced like that for a while before she launched herself at him at such a high speed, your eyes could barely track the movement. The crowd around you cheered as she lunged for his midsection, but Bucky managed to side-step her, using her momentum to his advantage. He tapped her on the back of the knees, sending her to the mat, but she was up in an instant, throwing herself onto Bucky's back and wrapping her legs around his midsection and her arms around his neck as she tried to pull him down.

"God, they make sparring look so hot," said a voice to your left. You turned your head and saw two SHIELD agents, a male and female, making commentary on the match before you. "Do you think they're fucking?" the male asked.

"Pfft," the female agent scoffed, "Barnes would never. He's with Stark's CTO. From what I hear, he's absolutely rabid for her." You couldn't help the warm feeling that bubbled in your stomach at the idea of Bucky being rabid for you.

"Yeah, I know, but come on-- there's no way some science nerd is going to compare with her," he said, nodding his head toward Jade, who now had her thighs wrapped around Bucky's head, much to the delight of the crowd, and the warm feeling in your stomach turned into a cold, heavy rock. "I mean, look at her; she's a fucking goddess. She's got the serum, too. I mean, guy like him, think he's going to be satisfied with a normal girl long-term? Nah, give it time; he'll get bored. Vixen's much more his speed. Fifth floor’s already placing bets on when he’ll start doing her on the side."

"Wow," said the female agent, sarcastically, "aren't you the romantic?"

"Just watch them," the male said. "There's something happening there."

The female agent cocked her head and studied Bucky and Jade as they traded blows. "Okay," she conceded, "maybe there's something."

"Maybe you two should mind your own fucking business and not speculate about things you know nothing about," a husky voice said from behind them. You turned to see Natasha, hands on her hips, glaring at the two agents, who, under the former assassin's scrutiny, had the good sense to look ashamed… and a little frightened. "Now, why don't you stop gawking and go do something useful with yourselves, considering, in case you happened to forget, you're on the fucking clock." She narrowed her eyes and tapped her fingers against her hip impatiently as the two muttered apologies before slinking off into the crowd. She watched them go before turning back to you and slipping her arm around your waist. You draped an arm around her back and leaned you head on her shoulder in thanks.

"Don't listen to a word those dumb fucks say," she told you as she watched the sparring match continue to unfold in front of you. "They're just stirring up trouble for shits' sake."

You hummed in agreement, but the seed had been planted, and you were terrified everyone else was seeing something you were being willfully oblivious to. You watched as Bucky and Jade moved, trading blows and blocks in a blur of motion. You knew he didn't have many opportunities to spar with someone on his level, who could keep up with him in strength, skill, and stamina, but there was something about the look in his eye as moved around the space, an excitement, a hunger, that made your stomach feel like it was full of lead. It was a look you knew well-- you saw it every time he pinned you beneath him, whispering sweet, sinful promises into the crook of your neck as he thrust into you and took you beyond reason.

“They’re not blind, though, are they Natty?” you asked, your voice small. As you watched, the sight before you shifted subtly as Bucky reached for Jade, his large hand enclosing around her wrist before twisting swiftly, forcing her arm behind her. He guided her to the ground, his body close against hers as he kept her in place. The interaction was professional, strictly within the limits of their training session. Yet, it unsettled you. You felt a pit of discomfort growing in your stomach as whispers bubbled from the crowd around you.

“You know Barnes better than anyone alive, Pocket,” Nat assured you, squeezing your waist gently. “I’d say even better than Steve at this point; do you honestly think there’s something there?”

You couldn’t answer her, every insecurity you’d had about Jade Carthage bubbling to the surface with a renewed vengeance. Especially now that you’d heard other people giving voice to your deep-seated fears that Bucky was out of your league and it was only a matter of time before he realized that, too, and left you.

Throughout it all, Bucky seemed oblivious to the audience or perhaps he was just too focused on Jade to give them any attention. As he released her and backed away, giving her space to rise, his gaze was trained entirely on her. His eyes were darkened with a serious intensity that stirred something within you, an overwhelming cocktail of fear, jealousy and a raw possessiveness a thousand times stronger than anything you'd felt before.

You fucking hated it.

Jade went on the offensive, swinging out to attempt a roundhouse kick to Bucky's chest, but the super soldier's reflexes were too quick; he grabbed her ankle before she could make contact and threw her off balance. With the grace of a gazelle, Jade used the momentum to spin, crouching low to sweep Bucky's legs out from underneath him. You watched as he fell back to the mat, and quick as lightning, Jade was on top of him, thighs straddling either side of his waist as she held a sparring dagger to his throat. They were both panting heavily from the exertion, but Bucky smiled up at Jade, pride evident on his face.

Sensing that the show was over for now, the crowd began dispersing, almost as if the current moment between the former combatants was too intimate for them to witness, leaving only you and Natasha at the side of the mat. You watched as Jade leaned down to whisper something in Bucky's ear, and he laughed his beautiful, genuine laugh.

The reaction made you squeak in discomfort. It wasn't a loud noise, and no normal person would have heard you from that distance, but Bucky Barnes was no normal man. At the sound, his eyes snapped to where you stood and, to your absolute horror, his face fell. You watched his smile falter as he saw the expression on your face, replaced with something looked alarmingly like guilt.

Jade's dark eyes followed his gaze and when she saw you, she broke into a wide grin, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Don’t get your panties in a twist, (Y/L/N). Just a friendly spar, right Barnes?" She asked, her voice ringing out clear across the room. Bucky nodded, looking stunned and incapable of speech as he continued to meet your gaze.

You watched as she rolled off him, extending the contact of their bodies a little longer than necessary, and extended her hand. Bucky stared at it for a moment before accepting the help and heaving himself off the mat. He shook his head at her, his gaze slowly returning to yours. This was not how you had envisioned your day unfolding.

Natasha squeezed your waist, attempting to offer some comfort, but it wasn't enough to shake off the dark cloud of unease that was settling over you. Ignoring the murmurs of reassurance from Natasha, you pulled away from her and made your way towards Bucky, who was now standing with Jade, both of them looking a little worse for wear after the intense sparring match. Bucky watched your approach with apprehension in his eyes, clearly unsure of what you were going to say or do. Jade smirked at you, her eyes twinkling with amusement, but there was something else behind that smug façade – an insidious satisfaction.

"Barnes," you greeted him, trying to keep your voice steady.

"Sweetheart," he replied, reaching out to touch your arm. You flinched back from the contact and noticed how his expression fell even further.

Jade opened her mouth to speak, but you cut her off with a wave of your hand.

"I need to speak with Bucky. Alone," you said, giving her a pointed look. Jade looked surprised for a moment before she shrugged and walked away, leaving the two of you alone on the edge of the training mat.

Bucky looked like he wanted to say something, opening and closing his mouth a couple of times before just clearing his throat. He ran a hand nervously through his hair, the sheen of sweat on his brow glinting in the overhead lights. His gaze flickered between your face and the floor, savoring every second as if it might be his last.

"I... I,” he stuttered, helplessly. You knew he was lost, unsure of how to navigate the waves of anger and hurt that rolled off you in palpable tides.

You crossed your arms over your chest defensively; your heart thudded painfully against your ribs, threatening to break free from its cage. You wanted to yell, cry, demand to know what was going on between him and Jade... But most of all, you just wanted to reach out and touch him, assure him that everything would be okay.

"Bucky," you finally said, your voice trembling slightly under the weight of your emotions. "What's happening between you two?"

Confusion passed over Bucky's face, "Wha- what do you mean?" he asked, his gaze steady on your eyes.

"You and Carthage," you clarified, hating how your voice hitched at the end of her name. "There's something going on between you two. Something... something more than just sparring partners. I want to know what it is."

His eyes widened slightly, and for a moment he looked genuinely shocked before it was replaced by a dawning comprehension. His shoulders sagged as he sighed deeply, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

"No," He murmured desperately, reaching out to grip your hand. This time, you didn't pull away. Instead, you watched as his thumb traced circles on the back of your hand, as if trying to comfort you. "I promise there's nothing going on between us."

"Then why does everyone who just watched that match think that there is?" you questioned quietly, biting down on your lower lip to stop it from trembling.

Bucky paused for a moment, his gaze shifted from your eyes to the hand he held. His thumb had stopped tracing circles and instead was now holding onto it as if it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

"I might just be her trainer, maybe even her friend, but we get onto that mat, it has to become more than that. Something different." He paused, a look of deep concentration transforming his face as he searched for the right words. "We have to push each other to be better, stronger. Fighting skills  determine whether you live or die out there, and that unlocks something in here. Emotions run higher, because you know that every perfected move, every successful hit landed, decreases your chances of coming home in a bodybag. Your partner’s victories are your victories, because the better they are, the better they’ll be at keeping you alive. It makes things seem more intense then they actually are, creates a connection that only exists here” he pointed to the mat, “and in the field." He gave a heavy exhale before his eyes met yours again, a pleading look to them. "She's not you."

A bitter laugh escaped from your lips before you were able to stop it. "No. She's a fucking superhuman goddess and I'm just a boring science nerd."

Bucky moved back as if you'd slapped him. "What-- Where-- Why would you ever say something like that?" He reached for your hands, cupping them in his own.

You couldn't meet his gaze. "People talk, Buck. I'm not the only one who looks at you two out there and sees fucking foreplay. And they're gossiping about it. Fuck, Bucky, people are placing bets on how long it's going to be before you get bored of me and start sleeping with her."

His eyes widened at your words, his grip on your hands tightening. "Who? Who the fuck is saying that? How fucking dare they?!" He looked horrified and angry; a dangerous combination for the likes of Bucky Barnes. As he opened his mouth to respond, you cut him off.

"Only because of how you're acting, Bucky! The chemistry between you two on the mat is undeniable." You tried to pull your hands from his, tried to put some distance between you, but his fingers only tightened around yours. "And even if it's not true...there's a part of me that believes it. Because why would you settle for me when you could have someone who's your equal in every goddamn way?"

Bucky was silent for a few moments, looking at you with such intensity that you felt like he was trying to see into your very soul. Then, just as quickly as it appeared, the intensity disappeared from his face, replaced with a look of utter resolve.

"Then let me make it clear for you," he said, voice low and determined. "I may spar with Vixen. I may laugh with her, talk with her, and yeah, even enjoy her company, as much as you might hate to hear it. But it ends there. I’m her trainer inside the gym and her friend outside of it." He paused, his gaze never leaving yours. "But you, you're something entirely different."

He reached up to gently cup your face, his cool metal hand providing a stark contrast to the heat flushing your cheeks. "You’re my solace in this fucked up, too fast future I found myself in. When I'm with you, I'm not the Winter Soldier or another Avenger. I'm just... Bucky. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to be, and I only get to be him when I’m with you." The earnestness in his voice was nearly enough to make your heart break on the spot.

"Your love is my strength," he continued. "And your faith in me... that's the redemption I’ve been searching for, the amends I’ve spent so long trying to find." His fingers were soft against your skin as he pushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "I love you in ways that I can't begin to express. All I care about is you. You, who's never boring, constantly keeping me on my toes with your wit and sense of humor. I love that you’re a science nerd, the most brilliant and beautiful woman I've ever met, inventin’ and creating things no one’s ever even imagined before to make the world a safer place. You, who sees past the metal arm and the nightmares, and loves me for who I am."

His hand moved along your jaw, his thumb softly grazing your cheek. His gaze was intense, filled with so much love and longing that it took your breath away.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said, his voice barely above a whisper as he reiterated the words you’d spoken to him the night he’d confessed his own insecurities to you. "And I'm certainly never getting bored of you. So yeah, Vix may be my occasional sparring partner, but you...you are my life partner, and you’re going to be until the day I die. She’s never going to come close to you."

His words echoed in your ears, shattering the wall of uncertainty within you. Swallowing hard, you met his gaze, trying to find any trace of insincerity or doubt. But all you found was love – raw and beautiful love that rendered you speechless. He took your hands in his again, gently squeezing to emphasize his words.

"Promise?" You asked, your voice trembling with vulnerability.

Bucky gave you a soft, reassuring smile. "I promise. On everything that I am, and everything that I'll ever be," he said with certainty. His grip on your hands tightened, as if to emphasize the truth in his words.

Tears welled in your eyes, blurring your vision. You blinked them away, not wanting to break this moment of connection. His expression was open, vulnerable; it was a sight reserved for you and no one else.

"Just… I just need you to tell me if your feelings ever change," you pleaded, your voice barely a whisper. "I can handle any truth but, if you lie to me, it’ll destroy me."

Bucky's thumb brushed away a tear that had managed to escape from the corner of your eye. "Nothing will change, doll. Not how I feel about you." He then leaned in closer until his forehead gently rested against yours. "You're stuck with me, remember?"

A small laugh bubbled out of you even as more tears spilled down your cheeks. You wrapped your arms around him, allowing yourself to melt in the comfort and warmth of him. "I'm sorry for being so insecure," you murmured into his chest. “Therapy is supposed to be helping me get over this.”

"Hey," he said, tipping his face up to meet his gaze, "there's no need for that. If you can work me through my insecurities about Steve, this is the least I can do for you. Besides, therapy’s a process, not an over-night cure."

His words brought a small smile to your face. The sincerity in his voice was soothing, like the soft lull of the ocean against the sand. "Do you think we're crazy, Bucky? For being like this?"

Bucky chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through his chest and into yours, "I think we've both been used and hurt, doll. Damaged." He kissed your forehead and you closed your eyes, relishing the feeling of his lips on your skin. "And I think that's made both of us terrified that we're not worthy of being loved the way we deserve. But no, I don't think we're crazy. At least, not about this, anyway."

You huffed out a laugh. "I love you so much," you murmured into the fabric of his shirt. "I don't know what I would do if I lost you. How I would survive."

"You won't lose me, doll," Bucky said, his voice a soothing balm to your fears. "As long as there's breath in my body, I'll always be by your side. I will fight for you, for us."

He pulled back slightly to look at you, his gaze resolute. "And if it ever comes down to it," he added, his words barely above a whisper, "I'll choose you. Over anyone else, over anything else. Always."

There was something in the way he spoke, the conviction in his voice that made your heart flutter in your chest. You believed him. You believed in him. You believed in the both of you, together.

"Promise?" you asked again, needing the confirmation more than you had ever needed anything else.

"I promise," he said instantly, pulling you closer into his embrace.

The warmth of his body against yours was comforting; it felt like home. It was as if all the pieces of your broken past were being put back together; mended by Bucky’s words, his promises, and the unconditional love he held for you. You pressed your face further into his chest, your tears soaking the fabric of his shirt.

"Hey," he said softly, his hand coming up to gently lift your chin so you were looking into his eyes. "Why are you still crying?"

You tried to laugh at yourself through your tears. "Because I'm relieved... and a little overwhelmed."

His thumb brushed away your tears again and then his lips were on yours in a tender kiss that told you without words just how much he cared about you.

As the kiss deepened, it was as if all the chaos of the world simply melted away. It was just the two of you in that moment, connected by not only a kiss but by the beating of two hearts that echoed the same rhythm - a testament to your shared love.

"Alright, you two," came Natasha's voice, finding its way into your bubble, "break it up. While I'm thrilled you're good, this is a training facility, not a lover's lane."

Bucky smiled down at you at Nat's words. "She's right, doll. Besides, I think I owe you a special sparring match of our very own."

You looked at him, an incredulous laugh leaving you. "Buck, I love you, but there's no way in hell I'm going to spar with you; you'll destroy me."

He leaned down to whisper in your ear, so softly you doubted Natasha could hear him. "I was thinking more along the lines of the naked sparring we could do upstairs in your room. Can't promise I won't still destroy you, though," he added with a wink.

"Oh my God," sighed Nat, who apparently could hear him, after all. "You two are disgusting. Get out of here before you start humping in the middle of the floor."

"That is an excellent idea, Natasha," you said, taking one of Bucky's hands in both of yours as you began to walk backward toward the exit, pulling him along. "Let's get out of here, Barnes. See how many times you can pin me before I scream for mercy."

Bucky threw his towel at Nat as he followed you, his gaze locked on you with a hunger that far surpassed the look he had in the ring with Jade. It sent shivers down your spine and set your heart racing.

God, you loved that man. You loved him so much that you were more than willing to ignore the little voice in the back of your head that kept asking "If there was nothing for you to worry about, why had he looked so guilty when he realized you'd been watching them?"

<- Previous Chapter / Next Part ->

[peachywritess]

workout agenda ー jjk

☁️ genre: M(18+), smut, best friends to lovers kinda? fluff at the end

☁️ pairings: personal trainer!best friend!jungkook x fem!reader; also jimin and hobi are mentioned.

☁️ warnings: explicit smut, unprotected sex, oral sex (female receiving), kind of dom!jungkook, praise kink, loads of cursing, creampie. i don't know what else to add lmao help

☁️ word count: 2,7k

☁️ author's note: hi, wow. first time ever writing smut, so enjoy i guess? this is the definition of "that escalated quickly" and i'm aware of that. also this jungkook has me weak bye. lemme know if you would like a part two hehe.

Having a personal trainer as a best friend definitely had its perks - like the fact that, this said best friend, would constantly beg you to let him coach you for just one workout. But knowing him, giving in would mean working out every day and you enjoyed your life as it was.

"Please, please Y/N, just this time! I won't ask you anymore, I promise."

Jungkook, Hoseok, Jimin and you were sitting in a café for a "study date" - which resulted in more talking than studying, and Hoseok bursting out in laughter when you started putting real effort into your assignments.

You took a sip of your chai latte and glared at the dark-haired man sitting right in front of you.

"He's at it again, such a child." Jimin shook his head, eyes focused on the screen of his laptop, and an amused smile on his lips.

"Kookie, we talked about this." You sighed, already knowing his response. "I am not working out with you."

"Dang it!" He sat back on his chair - its wooden material screeching as he put all of his weight on it - and this gained a giggle from Hoseok who was watching some dancing videos on YouTube.

"Y/N, you know that he won't give up until you say yes to him." He said diverting his attention from the phone screen to you.

"Come on, Hobi, you should be on my side." You responded, acting exhausted although you were mostly exaggerating your reactions.

He shrugged and looked back at his phone - that's when you felt Jungkook's gaze on you and, when you finally looked at him, his expression had entirely altered. He was pouting, his chin rested on both his hands, and he was fluttering his eyes trying to persuade you.

"Once again, I am not working out with you, Kookie!"

So there you were, walking on the treadmill in Jungkook's personal gym to warm your body up. After weeks of pestering, Jungkook had finally succeeded in convincing you.

However, your eyes weren’t particularly attentive to the small digits showing your heartbeat, or the minutes you had passed on the equipment, but were interested in something more appealing.

Jeon Jungkook was a literal god. He was wearing a tank top - that fit his body too perfectly - exposing his beefy arms covered with tattoos, which you had counted numerous times. His wavy jet-black hair was held in a low ponytail and some strands of his locks flawlessly fell on his forehead.

Everything about him was perfect in a way you could not comprehend - you almost felt dumb, crushing over your best friend. However, you had been doing that for years.

Sometimes - or maybe too many times - you imagined how his biceps would feel, and how his fit body would look standing atop of you, wavy hair framing his pretty face.

Was it okay for you to be thinking these dirty things? Was it okay to be feeling this heat between your legs whenever you watched him do pull-ups?

“So have you warmed up enough?” His voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and you immediately locked eyes with him, nodding in response before stopping the treadmill. He always had this gentle and calm manner of talking to you while looking so fucking good, and this nearly upset you - like, he had no reasoning being this hot. 

"What? Should I do a thirty-minute warm-up like you?" You raised an eyebrow, teasing him.

Jungkook laughed and decided to tease you back. "You wish."

You gasped, faking disbelief as you poked his side - a spot you knew was very ticklish - making him giggle even more. You gazed in awe as he laughed, his eyes squinting.

“Alright, alright, let’s start with a simple sumo squat. Let me grab the resistance bands.”

You watched him retrieve the equipment and admired his back muscles tense as he reached for a box in an upper shelf, where he kept all the additional gear needed for certain exercises. You were staring - and he knew. In fact, you were both pretty aware of the thing going on between the two of you since freshman year.

You tried to act innocent, prettily smiling at him and nodding in agreement to everything he said, giving him thumbs up when he corrected your posture, indeed trying hard not to show what you truly felt. The truth was that you had no idea how to tell him and - “Jungkook, please fuck me” probably wasn’t the best way to confess to your long-term best friend.

“There you go.” He handed you the resistance bands, and you quickly wore them just above your knees.

“Man, what took you so long?" You scoffed, yet again acting annoyed. It was an inside joke between the two of you, you didn't get offended when the other acted like this: it was strange but unique.

You started the exercise, by squatting down and up with slow and steady movements. He was right beside you, arms crossed enhancing his biceps and head slightly tilted to the right. You glimpsed at the large mirror on your left, making sure he didn’t notice you gazing at him from time to time.

His dark-chocolate eyes observed you, analyzing each one of your movements and biting his lower lip. He always did that when he was focused, but it truly drove you crazy.

“Try widening your knees more, and keep that back arched or you will definitely kill your lower back.” 

His tone was calm and focused and you liked how professional he was. He was really passionate about his job, in fact, Jungkook was one of the best personal trainers in Seoul and had made a name for himself.

Clients loved him because, instead of shouting at them as many others did, he made everyone feel comfortable and enforced their confidence never once doubting them.

His duality baffled you - one minute he was smiling and being adorable, acting like a cute puppy, and the other his whole expression would completely shift and you would notice a different light in his eyes.

“Like this?” You innocently questioned, although you very well knew what you were doing. You then arched your back more - way more, exposing the roundness of your butt.

You heard him nervously chuckle. "Y/N, you will break your back."

Jungkook was fairly amused, in fact, he thought you were the cutest thing. You acted all annoyed and bothered - but now there you were trying to show off to him.

“Here, let me just…” He got closer to you - close enough that you could feel his warm breath on your shoulder. He was taller than you, so he had to somehow bend down a little and it made you feel trapped. One hand rested on your right hip, while the other was cautiously placed on your abdomen: his hands were rough - due to the multiple calluses, he had - yet his touch felt extremely soft. 

Your throat had dried up, and you had helplessly tried to seem unaffected by his closeness. But in spite of that, you couldn’t deny to yourself how fast your heart was beating, and how the spots he was touching had started to heat up.

"Did you buy this set just for today?" He was referring to your outfit: you were wearing a light blue sports bra and matching leggings that complimented your curves - and yes, you had obviously bought it for him.

"No, I bought this like a year ago."

"You? Owning gym wear?" He slightly chuckled, knowing you weren't the type to hit the gym daily.

"There are some things you don't know about me, Jeon Jungkook." You stated trying to sound as playful as before, but he had noticed a change in your tone.

"Oh, really?"

You nodded and started moving again as he guided you, holding you firmly. You unsuccessfully attempted to focus on the movements, and not on the scent of his cologne nor the fact that his chest was now pressed against your back.

"Like the fact that you are begging me to fuck you right now?" He whispered into your ear, lips brushing against your earlobe as his breath sent tingles down your spine.

"Probably." You managed to answer - almost completely out of breath - not knowing if it was from the workout or from the way he was tightening his grip on you.

"Fuck, can I kiss you?" He sounded almost desperate. "Because I will fucking do it now if you are okay with it."

You wasted no time, turning on your heels to finally face him and, locking your arms around his shoulders, pulled him toward you. Your lips crashed in a mixed kiss - there was neediness, tenderness, and excitement, all combined as you finally got to know how he tasted.

"Shit, I've wanted this for so long." He managed to affirm as he briefly detached from you, before kissing you again. "For so fucking long."

He proceeded to effortlessly lift you up, hands squeezing your butt as he walked across the room, not even knowing where to go himself. Jungkook then spotted the desk he used to create his own workouts, and carefully placed you on it, lips never leaving yours.

"W-Wait, Kookie." You extended your arms forward, gently pulling him away from you. You finally caught your breath, your lungs relaxing.

His expression shifted - he seemed worried.

"Fuck, Y/N, I'm- I'm so sorry." He mumbled, running his hands through his perfectly combed hair, ruining it. "I got carried away, and didn't think that- that maybe this wasn't okay for you."

Typical Jungkook. He was so selfless, always putting other people's benefits in front of his own, worrying that what he did might upset someone. A smile depicted on your face - he was adorable.

"Kookie, I want this more than you think." You intertwined your legs around his torso, pushing him towards you so that he was now on top of you, biceps tensed to keep himself from crushing you.

His eyes widened in surprise, and you reached for his cheek gently stroking it. "You're so cute when you get flustered, you know?"

"And you look ravishing right now, you know?" He mimicked you, embarrassment having completely left him as he literally devoured you with his eyes. "So pretty, all dressed up for me."

Then, yet again, his lips were on yours but now his hands were exploring your body: a hand cupped one of your breasts as the other buried in your hair. There was something different about his touch: it was like he was yearning for you like he was craving for more with every passing second.

You hurriedly reached for his tank top, unsuccessfully trying to pull it up - so Jungkook helped you by taking it off, exposing his chest. You couldn't help but trace every perfect line on his abdomen, wanting to kiss him all over. You had seen him shirtless, but it didn't feel the same.

His attention shifted from your lips to your neck, where he started leaving a trail of wet kisses before stopping just above your breasts. He gave you a questioning look, and you nodded. At this point, you would have agreed to everything he wanted to do to you.

He lifted your sports bra up, exposing your hardened nipples and you promptly blushed, feeling overwhelmed. Reality hit you like a high-speed train: you were about to have sex with Jeon Jungkook, and he had just seen your boobs.

"Getting all flustered, aren't you?"

You blushed, covering your eyes with your palms - you felt so exposed and yet you totally liked it. You peeked through your fingers, watching as Jungkook took a nipple into his mouth, sucking on it.

You moaned - mouth agape and body completely on fire - and you instinctively yanked his hair, pulling away the hairband that held them together. His locks tickled your skin as he played with your breasts for a little longer, crotch rubbing against your thigh.

"Fuck, Kookie, I want you now." You whined, the heat between your legs now unbearable, pussy begging for some friction.

"So eager. If you ask me nicely, maybe I'll give you what you want."

He laid a few kisses on your ribs, then on your stomach, and then stopped as he was looming over the lower abdomen. A smirk appeared on his lips, seeing you squirming under him was driving him crazy, so he playfully blew on your belly - just to tease you.

"Kookie- fuck, please I want your cock. Please, Jungkook, fuck me."

"Such a good girl." He breathed out, before pulling down both your leggings and your panties. He groaned as he admired your exposed cunt. "You are so wet for me already, princess."

The name he had just called you made your heart lose a beat, and you swiftly closed your legs, feeling your pussy pulsate. Jungkook smirked at your reaction, having never seen you so vulnerable, and grabbed both your knees to open your legs yet again.

"Shit, you are so pretty, Y/N."

If that was what Heavens felt, then you wanted to die every day. Jungkook's mouth was on your pussy, eating you out: he licked the length of your cunt, gently sucking on your clitoris, gaining lovable moans from you. You yanked your head back, as you grasped his hair, pleasuring tears blurring your vision.

His lips were soft, and he made sure to do everything to make you feel good. You were absolutely stunning - and he craved more.

"F-fuck, fuck me, please."

You groaned when you felt his lips detach from your pussy, fresh air tingling your bare skin. You were trying to catch your breath when you felt him thrust into you - without any warning. He stretched your walls and although it initially stung a bit, his cock felt too good.

"Shit- I couldn't wait any longer." He murmured in your ear, strong arms embracing you, holding you tight. You hugged him back, feeling him closer than ever. It all felt... warm.

He started pounding into you, keeping the same rhythm as he moaned into your ear. You felt light-headed as he fucked you harder, starting to lose all sense. You were now moaning uncontrollably, and Jungkook enjoyed every bit of it.

"You love it, huh? How I am fucking you dumb?"

He pulled away from the embrace, using his core muscles to raise himself slightly. He then grabbed you by the ankle, bringing your leg over his shoulder.

"Oh- Fuck, Jungkook!"

It was so deep, waves of pure pleasure had started running all over your body. You were now probably drooling, too.

"So good- it feels so good, Kookie."

Jungkook was now hugging your leg, brows furrowed, and head lowered down. His hair was completely hiding his expression, but you could hear his groans as he thrust harder and harder.

"You're so good- Y/N, so fucking good for me." He bit the skin of your inner thigh, leaving a big purple mark before looking directly at you. "Look at me, I want you to look at me. Can I cum- Can I cum inside of you?"

You nodded in agreement, as you were reaching your high, feeling your muscles tense.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." You cursed in a high-pitched voice as you cummed on his cock, spasms of pure bliss pulsating through you. After a few more thrusts, Jungkook let out a loud moan, cock twitching inside of you.

"God - Oh my fucking God." He deeply exhaled, body relaxing onto yours as he kept his cock where it belonged, while you were still sobbing from the fireworks of pleasure. Jungkook made sure not to crush you, putting his weight on the elbows.

He looked at you, a tender smile on his lips and dark eyes full of love. You wished you could have taken a picture of this moment to keep it forever: drops of sweat streaming down his arms, plump lips, some strands of hair attached to his forehead - he was beautiful.

"I love you." He tapped the tip of your nose, placing a soft kiss on your lips.

You smiled, cupping his cheeks with your hands, before squeezing them a little.

"I love you too, but you know, next time you want to fuck me, just tell me."

©️ peachywritess 2023. All rights reserved.

Please consider reblogging my works if you like them! <3

[dean-samw67]

So I thought of something that would actually give me motivation to go back to the gym and that’s being delusional

So hear me out, reader is going to the gym and perving on Carlos while he works out, he confronts reader only for them to deny it and he’s all like “don’t fkn lie to me” and then hanky panky time happens

Don't Play Dumb

Carlos Oliveira X Fem!Reader

(A/N: I got you, I got you. He would probably actually have a restraining order if this was real.)

Warnings!!: Smut (Obvi), Fingering, vaginal penetration, FUCKING HONRY MFS, Don't do this irl

Words: 3537

You hated the gym. Despised it. Yet you continued to go. Why? That answer was simple. The gym hottie. Carlos Oliveira. You had pretty much learned his schedule. Maybe it seemed creepy but he was your motivation. He had dark curly hair that got more curly when he sweat, deep eyes that honestly made your heart melt. And who could leave out his fucking muscles? 

So, regularly, you found yourself walking the treadmill while watching him lift weights. You would have offered to be a spotter, but frankly you were too nervous. You had your earbuds in your ears, your show playing on your phone while you walked on the treadmill and kept glancing at Carlos. 

Something about today… he looked fucking delicious. His black tank top clung beautifully to his skin as he sweat. His basketball shorts were riding up just a bit, revealing a little bit of his thigh. Shit, you knew how pervy this was, But you couldn’t help it. 

You tried your best to look away but sometimes when he moved the right way, and his muscles flexed, you couldn’t bring yourself to look away. He made your mouth water and quite honestly, made your panties soaked. 

By the end of the workout, it was overall, cleared out. A few stragglers, including Carlos and yourself. You were wiping your neck with a towel, getting your stuff together when you hear footsteps approaching behind you. You didn’t think much of it at first, since it was possibly someone passing by you. But a chuckle brings your attention to the person behind you. You turn with furrowed eyebrows, revealing a sweaty Carlos. His face was red and his hair a mess. 

“You look at every guy like that?” He had a cocky smirk plastered on his face and his arms crossed. 

“Uh…” Your heart practically gave out. “What?” You try your best to put on an innocent, confused smile. 

“Don’t play dumb.” He steps closer to you, your heart wanting to jump out of your throat. “I saw you. You don’t need to lie.” He chuckles. You try to say something but suddenly your mouth feels dry. You were caught in the act. He probably thought you were a weirdo. Which, you probably were. But he didn’t need to know that. 

“Well I uh-”

“You need to make your perving less obvious.” He cut you off by leaning down by your ear and lowering his voice. You couldn’t help but stand like a deer in headlights. 

“I… I’m so sorry.” You quickly apologize, not really knowing what else to do in this situation. 

“So are you gonna answer my question?” He raises an eyebrow. 

“What do you mean?”

“Do you look at all the guys around the gym like that?” All you could do is shake your head, not trusting your voice at this moment. “I just happen to be the lucky man?” He laughs. 

“I guess.” You kinda squeak out, your voice clearly displaying nervousness. 

His hand slips into yours and you let out a gasp as he chuckles and says, “Good.” Before letting your hand go and walking past you. The smell of his cologne mixed with his sweat made you feel like a feral animal in its mating season. You look down at a small slip of paper that now sat in between your fingers. You open the paper up to reveal a number on it. 

***

Sitting at home, you couldn’t help but stare at the small piece of paper as it sat on the coffee table next to your phone. Was it real? Or was he trying to make a fool of you? As if you didn’t feel foolish enough for being caught today. Or maybe he’s noticed before and never said anything? God. Your brain was racing.

You inhale and hold your breath as you pick up your phone and type in his number, staring at it before typing up a text. 

Y:Hey, it's the girl from the gym. Is this Carlos?

You quickly toss your phone down as you turn on your tv and try to distract yourself. What the hell was wrong with you? You had never felt this nervous texting a man. But then again none of them had caught you perving on them in the gym until now. 

As soon as your phone goes off you stare at it, heart pounding in your chest you could barely hear your show anymore. You pick it up, reading his text:

C:So you know my name?

You throw your phone to the other side of the couch as soon as the text processes. You couldn’t really explain that you found his name out by “accidentally” overhearing his conversation with another gym member. God… you really are a creep, huh? You take a deep breath and pick your phone back up. There was another message from him. 

C:What else do you know about me?

Text was an easy way to be confident, right? Right? You take a deep breath and begin to type out a text. 

Y:Not as much as I wish.

As soon as you pressed send you wanted to scream. He’s gonna think you are weird. That sounded creepy as fuck. The way he answered so fast made you more nervous. 

C:Oh, yeah?

Was that good or bad? You couldn’t tell. 

Y:Yeah…

You let out a mini scream as a call comes through. It was his number! What the fuck!? You slowly answer it but stay quiet, unsure what to say. 

“You there?” Carlos chuckles after a minute of silence.

“I think.” 

“You think?” He laughs, sounding purely amused by your answer. 

“Mhm…” You hum as you nod, even if he can’t see you. 

“You are funny.” Your heart jumps at the compliment. 

“Thank you?” You bite your lip as you laugh quietly. You weren’t trying to be funny, but you’d take it. 

“So what else would you want to know?” 

“Huh?” You are pulled back to the reality of the situation. 

“You said you didn’t know as much as you’d like. So what more would you like to know?” You could practically hear a smug smirk in his voice. 

You couldn’t outright say his dick size. So you say: “You.”

“Me? What about me?” He questions. 

“Just… you.” You shrug as you answer him. 

“I thought I was just eye candy.” You could tell he was joking but it didn’t stop your cheeks from turning a deep shade of red. 

“I-” You pause for a moment. “I didn’t mean to-” 

“I was joking.” He quickly jumps in and laughs a bit. The sound made you let out a nervous, shaky laugh. After another moment of silence he speaks up again. “So you have a name or just ‘Hot pervy gym girl’?” The ‘hot’ part of it definitely threw you off. 

“Uh… I uh… Well-” You chuckle nervously. “Hot?” 

He lets out a deep laugh that echoes through the room from your phone. “Yeah.” 

“Um… It’s Y/n.” You answer. 

“Wow.” 

“Wow?” 

“Who knew your name would match your beautiful face.” You can’t help but roll your eyes. 

“Shut the hell up.” You laugh. 

“What?” He chuckles. 

“You are stupid.” You giggle and look at your phone. 

“Hey, that's not very nice. You shouldn’t say that to men you perv on at the gym.” 

You sigh as he says it again. “You aren’t gonna let me live that down.” 

“Nope.” He sounded very proud of himself. 

“Right.”

***

The next day in the gym was interesting. It wasn’t your normal secret staring. As you walked on the treadmill, Carlos kept making eye contact. And he didn’t even try to break it. If he wasn’t watching you watch him, he was very obviously flexing and showing off. Like he knew when you were looking at certain parts. 

You inhale deeply and let out a heavy breath as you turn off the treadmill. You grab your stuff before slowly walking over to Carlos, who was just finishing up on the bench press. 

“Spot me?” You ask, before looking at the weight plates that were on the bar. 

“Yeah. Let me help with this.” He says as he helps you take down the weight and make it even. As soon as he is done helping, he wipes down the bench. You get on and lay back as he stands behind the bar and looks down at you. He did a half ass job of wiping it down, because you could still feel a bit of sweat against your back. But you don’t say anything. Instead you look up at him as you place your hands on the bar. 

A part of you couldn’t help but picture you laying like this with him standing over you, and fucking your throat. You shake the thought as you slowly push the bar up and begin to bench press, Carlos keeping a close eye and holding his hands under the bar. 

He helps you push the weight up and back into place when finished. You grunt as you sit up and drink from your water bottle. You couldn’t help but notice Carlos’s eyes as they scan over you, a small smirk gracing his face. You look up at him and he looks away, eyes meeting a clock on the wall. 

“You know you didn’t completely wipe off the bench.” You point out as you stand up. 

“I know.” He looks back at you. 

“It’s a little gross, you know?” You wipe the bench off completely. 

He leans close to your face, lips just brushing your ear. “Not when you smell like me now.” He chuckles just before standing up and walking away, his hand just brushing your ass. You are left there to blush as you think about what he said. When you turned around, he was no longer in the room. You clear your throat and quickly gather your things, hurrying to the locker room. Fuck, this man was teasing you now. You brush your hand over your face and then head off to take a shower, hoping it’ll relieve some of your pent up feelings. 

It was nearing closing time for the gym by the time you finish. So it was mostly empty. You step out of the shower with a towel wrapped around your body. You walk over to your bag and pull out your change of fresh clothes. 

You hear the door to the locker room open, and don’t think much of it. Probably just another woman finishing up for the day. As you pull out your clothes you feel a pair of strong arms around your waist. You let out a sharp gasp and elbow whoever it was in the gut. The groan and step back quickly, allowing you to turn around and look at them. 

“Carlos!” You gasp as you see who it was. He was leaning over grunting, holding his side. 

“I would not want to mess with you. You are stronger than you look.” He laughs as he rubs the spot you had elbowed him. 

“I am sorry. Do you sneak up on women often in the ladies locker room?” You joke a bit as you walk to his side.

“I guess we both are weird pervs.” He jokes as he stands up straight. 

“Shut up.” You laugh as you roll your eyes. “I never snuck into the men's locker room.”

“You don’t want to. It's scary. And I am a man.” He chuckles as he takes a seat on a nearby bench. You scoff with a laugh as you walk back to your bag. “You washed off my scent.” He teases. 

You blush a bit as you bite your lip and chuckle. “Just wanted to wash my own sweat off.” 

“Maybe I have to make you smell like me again.” You could hear him get up but keep your eyes on your bag as he walks up behind you. Your heart was racing. 

“How do you intend to do that?” You question, your voice quiet as you fiddle with the hem of your towel. He steps up behind you, his arms snaking around your waist. This time you don’t even flinch as his hands find the opening of your towel. His hand makes contact with the bare skin of your stomach and waist. You gasp at how warm his hand felt in contrast to the cool air of the locker room. 

��May I?” He asks and you already knew what he was asking for. All this sexual tension and he still made sure to ask. It struck you with something. And in full honesty, made you want to fuck him even more than you already did. 

“You may.” You nod, your eyes fluttering closed. Carefully, he pulled your towel off of your body, tossing it on the bench with your stuff. Immediately his hands find your waist, caressing along it. A gasp escapes your lips as his mouth finds a place on your neck, kissing and gently biting at the skin. You didn’t even have to look at him. You could tell he was debating whether he should leave marks or not. And ultimately, he decided to. You could feel his mouth become a little more rough when he makes this decision. 

“Fuck…” You let a whimper escape your lips. It is easy for Carlos to tell you may be a little touch deprived. He doesn’t mind. He will just satisfy all your needs that you left untouched.

“Feeling good, meu amor?” That fucking accent while he called you that, sent you into a spiral. 

“Fuck you, Carlos.” You chuckle as a soft moan escapes your lips when his hand begins to travel down your stomach. 

“So defensive.” He chuckles. “You’ll be putty in no time, don’t you worry.” You could feel his smirk against your neck just before his fingers found your swollen clit. You let out a whine and feel your legs turn to jelly immediately. Why does he have this effect on you? How could one man do all this? 

“You are soaking wet, meu amor… Been thinking about something recently?” He teases.

“Maybe. There seems to be this guy… ah… that I think about… some-sometimes…” You stutter through your moans as his fingers rub circles on your most sensitive spot on your body. 

“He must be a real catch to have you this wet.” He chuckles as he nips at your shoulder, his calloused fingers moving down to your dripping hole.

“Must be…” You repeat his words as it feels as though your head is spinning. Jesus, you really are touch starved. 

“May I?” He asks again, his fingers spreading your wetness over your swollen pussy lips. You can only muster a nod in this moment before his middle finger is slipping into your cunt with ease. 

“Shit!” You let out a gasp and whine as he does this. He smirks as he thrusts his finger in and out of you. 

“How long has it been since someone has done this to you?” He can’t help but laugh at your reactions. 

“Don’t laugh…” You whimper, bucking your hips forward as he adds a second finger. 

“It’s cute, darling, don’t worry.” He smirks and nips at your ear. The palm of his hand would brush against your clit with each thrust of his fingers, getting you closer to the edge even faster. You reach up to cover your face as it contorts with pleasure. His free hand is quick to push them down. “Let me see you. I want to see that pretty face when you cum on my fingers.” 

“Carlos…” You whimper as you look back at him. 

“That’s it. Good girl…” He whispers as he curls his fingers with each movement inside you. It hit the right spot and was getting you closer and closer to that high. Your wetness was dripping down his fingers. It was a mess. And you had just showered too. 

“I… I’m gonna…” You moan and whine, biting on your lip.

“Already? I told you that you would be putty.” Carlos chuckles as he continues the repetitive movement with his hand, not slowing or stopping. Within your body is shaking and your walls are tightening around his fingers as you reach that peak. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck… Carlos.” You can’t control the line of curses and his name as they leave your mouth. 

“Look at that. So pretty.” Carlos smirks as he takes a seat on the bench, sitting you on his lap as he does so. You could feel the very prominent bulge against your ass as he does this. You don’t say anything as you attempt to catch your breath. 

After just a moment of regulating your breathing he is lying you down on the bench and hovering over you. You stare up at him, eyelids a bit heavy. 

“We aren’t done.” He had that stupid smirk on his face like always. You hear him fiddling with his belt, undoing it and then his button on his pants following. He pushes his pants down enough to let his cock fall free of his confinements. He was above average. Definitely the biggest you had seen in person. His tank top was pushed up so you could see his happy trail. It made you horny all over again. Which was pretty easy for him to do. He pulls your legs up, holding them under the knees and keeping them spread apart. This allowed him a full view of your already spent cunt. He chuckles as the tip of his cock brushes against your soaked entrance. 

“May I?” There were those two words again. You had let him destroy you with his fingers and he still was asking if he could do this. 

“Yes.” You nod and stare up into his eyes. As you do so he carefully sinks his cock into your swollen pussy. 

“Holy fuck!” You grunt and grit your teeth, a slight pain from his size. It was not awful but not something you are used to. 

“I’m sorry, I’ll be slow.” He whispers as his arms are placed on the bench above your head. Your legs now rested against his thighs as he slowly moved his hips against yours. He keeps his eyes on your face to make sure he wasn’t making it worse. It didn’t take long for that pain to fade into pure pleasure and you were thrusting your hips to meet his and encourage him. 

With that he grunts in your ear as his hips pick up the pace. Your hands find their way around his body and your nails find his back. You were still sensitive from the earlier orgasm, making this more intense. There is a slapping of your hips against his with each thrust he took. 

“Good girl. Taking me so well.” His praises just fill you with more pleasure than before. He could feel the soft clench of your walls around him from his words and it made him feel absolutely insane. He buries his face in your neck, taking in your scent, which was now mixed with his. 

“Carlos… please…” You can barely whine out as your nails drag down his back. 

“What? Use your words, meu amor.” He bites on your earlobe as his grunts and groans. 

“More, please.” Your words come out just as a whimper but he doesn’t hesitate to comply and pick up the pace of his thrusts. Your eyes roll back as your back arches off of the bench you laid on. 

“That what you wanted, sweetheart? More of my cock?” He moans against your skin. You can muster up a nod but the only thing falling from your mouth at this moment was pleas of pleasure. He chuckles through his own sounds of pleasure as his hips rock against yours. You knew that you were already teetering on the edge of a second release, in hopes he was at the same point as you. 

You could feel your legs shuttering against his toned thighs and that only fueled his ego more, making him slam into your dripping cunt with more vigor. His back at this point was covered in scratches from your nails, and each one elicited a groan from his lips. 

“I… gonna… ah, fuck!” You couldn’t even warn him before you are tipping over the edge and the walls of your pussy are clenching around his thick cock. He grunts and stabilizes himself on the bench with his arms as his thrusts come to a complete stop and his hot cum fills your spent cunt. As the two of you are left to fall down from your high, the locker room is filled with heavy breathing and soft whimpers. 

“You did so well.” Carlos breathes out before capturing your lips with his as if rewarding you for this. It wasn’t until you pulled away and took notice of the clock on the wall, realizing that it was five minutes to close and you both would have to rush to get out of here.

Masterlist

[kcalsforhim]

𓏲.ೃ࿔❀˙˖ ｡ friday 3 jan 2025

༄.°

THANK YOU FOR 101 FOLLOWERS ! I LOVE YOUUUU !!!!

i woke up a couple times but i ended up properly waking up around 10:30… i had planned to see haku today since it had been since before the winter vacation that i saw him.. my sweet boy … he reached out to me first to come see me and he doesn’t even know how much that means, i still think about it. i kind of thought he forgot about me for a while, but i really do love him

i skipped breakfast and i wore very comfortable clothes… i looked kinda basic but that really doesn’t matter cause i checked the weather and it was supposed to feel like -4 degrees out so i really needed it… i went out and got on the train and that was fine for the most part.

1 small boba, brown sugar milk tea with coconut milk instead of dairy, and 50% sugar instead of 100-150%. tapioca pearls

this was so yum <3 i haven’t had a boba in forever, and it felt a little better cause it was small and i replaced the milk and had them put less sugar, so i felt slightly less bad about it.

i went to the shop with cigarettes, and the guy flirted with me and i got a pack of cigarettes for 20 € .. then i went and waited for haku. when i saw him i was happy ^^

we went to the miniso first and got eachother late christmas presents, we got eachother matching sanrio bedtime lamps, i bought him a cinnamoroll one, and he got me a kuromi one… afterwards we went to the primark where i bought a kuromi fluffy blanket, a fluffy hoodie blanket, a hello kitty plush (i already have the kuromi and my melody versions of this plush), and a keychain of kuromi and my melody encased in a heart shape with pink liquid

the primark was so hot we needed to get ouuuut !!! we went outside and we smoked a little and by this point we had to pee so we went to go pee

1 miniso kuromi drink ! i had a strawberry flavour one

it was good ! originally i had the kuromi one, it was grape flavour, and haku had the hello kitty one, it was strawberry… but we liked eachothers flavours more… so we swapped flavours and afterwards swapped the can back to keep hehehe

afterwards we smoked and then went to the manga store, it’s called “whoops !” which i think is so cute. an old ex used to take me there often, i thought for sure i took haku there before, but i never did.. so it was fun ! we looked at manga and i bought this cute strawberry shortcake themed miku figure cause, i haven’t bought myself a figure in about a year hehe… i thought she was so cute !

then i can’t exactly recall what we did but soon we went home ^^ i was sad to see him go, but i knew id see him soon again at school. when i got home to my local train station i walked home which was nice. it was a little cold but i didn’t mind. my bags were a little bothersome tho hehe..

i got home rlly needing to pee and afterwards i ate.. i plated kind of carelessly today ? idk

- 4 flats, 2 drumsticks, 3 pieces of cauliflower

- a dish with ketchup and mayo i couldn’t finish lol

- leftover spinach

- 3 chocoballs, 2 dates

- 2 bites of burek

so careless it’s almost disgusting !!! but what am i supposed to do now lol. i already ate it.. i didn’t think much of it at the time. i don’t exactly fully regret it but i probably should be LOL

anyways after this i took out my contacts and promptly fell asleep ? like properly… i slept till 3 am or something like that hehe.. i stayed up till 8 am till i fell back asleep again after um taking care of my BUSINESS iykwim heheheh

i remember seeing a figure of senbonzakura miku and wanting it SOOOOO BAD !! i love military themes and inspiration and i think she’s so cool… so here is the song connected to that fig !

𓏲.ೃ࿔❀˙˖ ｡ stats for today

streak : 3 days binge free !

steps : 13.0 k

overal steps were alright, no treadmill hell today, but i didn’t pay attention to my food today which is kind of disappointing hehe.. shockingly i really didn’t think about food much anyway today ehe

༄.°

[smoothiedreams]

Bakugou/kirishima headcanons time!

I have nothing to do on my miserable life so why not

[This might include some relationships each character has on their individual daily routine, friendships are real, not only ship can u believe it? I tend to forget haha]

First of all, they train together, like on gym, Bakugou enjoy hitting things with all he got but he can be real moderate when training other exercises. While he is on the treadmill kirishima is training calisthenics, and while bakugou practices boxing punches and karate moves kiri is there lifting himself on some beam.

Kirishima likes bakugou's shoulders and arms a lot, he thinks they are maily attractives. Bakugou likes kiri's chest and belly, nothing more mesmerize than his boyfriend's tummy.

They usually take combat classes with uraraka. She and kiri are gym bros, eventually sato joined them and bakugou surprisely is very calm during these times. He does his exercises alongside them but doesn't necessarily exclude himself, they are all enjoying each other's company at these times of the day.

Bakugou and Sato end up forming a light friendship, they don't talk much but share interactions related to cooking frequently.

We can't forget that Bakugou's parents work with fashion, he inevitably ended up becoming a stylish person himself without noticing. He kinda have a streetwear aesthetic, a bit gotic sometimes. Kiri however likes clothes more colorful, he is a summer boy but also has his streetwear side.

Bakugou is gay, just it, simple as can be. He is demiromantic tho. Kiri is pan/bi.

They private times aren't just penetration, they like touch, intimacy, likes kisses and just rubbing up against each other or giving a helping hand. (I feel kind of weird having thought about this but it seems like I need to highlight my thoughts in this simplistic perverted world).

Abt positions, bakugou usually is topping - not because of any strange straight gender role u might think- he just find more joy on giving pleasure for his partner, and Kirishima is always more willing to receive this adoration ( he might feel powerful for holding confidence in having this relationship with bakugou ).

Kirishima is the big spoon. He always has bakugou grapping his waist and melting into his arms as he sleep peacefully against his chest, at least this is how they start the night, bc when they wake up bakugou has Kiri sprawled out, half-thrown on top of his chest, with his face aligned in the crook of his neck, and somehow Bakugou's arm is now the boy's pillow.

Bakugou is an introvert with limited social battery so is common to see he just chilling out on the couch with jiro, each one on the phone and listening music. Sero sometimes sit with them to just vibe.

Kiri despite having the bakusquad is usually seemed hanging out with momo, asui and SHINSO. Yes, our boy gotcha friendship with him! (someday I'II dissect my thoughts and understand why I want them all to be a small group). He and momo are extroverts dragging asui and shinso tho mostly watch their interactions, that don't mean they don't talk as much as them, they just prefer to add interesting and spicy comments or facts.

Kaminari jokes on being their third wheel, he is right.

Ashido helps kiri on insecure moments, encouraging him on his relationship. She is almost the mom friend, almost.

Bakugou likes chemical. Kirishima likes biology.

Bakugo's dad and kirishima go fishing sometimes. They both are terribly distracted by any conversation.

Bakugou's mom is flustered every time kiri is eating her food bc he always is praising her cooking skills. it's usually her husband who gets all the praise because she herself recognizes that his food is amazing, so he is the one who cooks usualy on the house, but she assures to be the chef when kiri is coming.

Beginning with: kiri has two moms bc this headcanon just makes sense. The two managed to win over Bakugou with their kindness and strong morals, he is extremely more restrained around them.

How and who confessed? It will be extensive.

They are partners even before being in a romantic relationship, so it was on one day that bakugou finds out how good is to them being in such a synchrony, imagine how much more easy it would be if they were more... them BOOM! Existential crisis with a sexuality crisis that lasts two minutes for him to come to a consensus that he doesn't care about falling in love with a boy, but rather wants to have a relationship with anyone. He struggles for a week and ends up agreeing that yes, he wants to stay by shitty hair's side, so he will take it as he has been taking it, just existing. If in any parallel universe Kirishima asked him to go out with him, Bakugou could take that opportunity, but he was fine with how things were. And then he wasn't. The class had just discovered that Present Mic and Professor Aizawa were a thing and everyone was excitedly talking about how good it was to have someone to lean on and share things with in the world of pro heroes. Kirishima, mina and uraraka were talking about how much they admired their relationship, and Kirishima lets slip that it's even a little envious of them by having the courage to get deeply involved with someone. He jokingly says something like "Bakugou, can you believe it? That maybe one day someone could be my significant other like that? Being heroes and everything else we aspire to." "is to much to ask for haha." bakugou replies, "you better think of harder wishes to grant shitty hair." Mina then is like, "Don't go throwing words like this because Bakugou might take it as a challenge", uraraka adds with, "He already think its to easy." THEN some defiant and provocative instinct of bakugou is activated and all inhibitions are thrown to the air without him realizing it, "STUPID EXTRAS! being by his side is something that I am already taking first place in, it isn't even a challenge!"

Then somehow..."Would u easily turn into my boyfriend as easy as you make it seems bakugou?" - "stop saying dumb things shitty hair"- "You said it first!" - "if u wanna me to take responsability u have to take courage to ask me out" - 'but we already went out!" "..." - " WE ARE DATING" - " WE ALREADY ARE"

I know this was long and a bit confusing but I hope you enjoyed my thoughts lol

[asherthehimbo]

Arm day

changbin x gn!reader

tried to keep it as vauge as possible when it came to description, only specific is that the reader is smaller than Changbin in terms of muscle

•It started with you wanting to get more fit without doing cardio because you hated it, so, so so much. Well, I mean, you didn't hate running or going on a walk but running on a treadmill?? forget it

•You knew you wanted to change something about your body, but you weren't sure what, that's when you remembered, you have a gym rat of a boyfriend.

•Your first plan of action was to observe him, so you went to the gym with him telling him you wanted to see his routine, not entirely true, not a lie either.

•While he was distracted you managed to get yourself a subscription, you had committed, no going back now.

•You would go every day after work, telling him that your hours had changed, you wanted to surprise him, build enough muscle to be able to keep up with his routine so you two could train together, your only problem? you HATED doing arms. more than cardio, ok maybe not more than cardio but still, it was close.

•But still, if you wanted to keep up with your boyfriend you needed to do this, you don't know where this urge to workout came from, but it was welcomed.

•While you were struggling at the gym, your boyfriend was struggling at home, you had told him your work schedule changed, that he understood, but when you came home you were always sweaty, out of breath, didn't want to touch him until you've had a shower, which was weird because you've NEVER refused a welcome home hug from Binni, ever.

•This caused your dramatic boyfriend to draw even more dramatic conclusions. When you came home that day tired out of your mind because not only did your boss give your ×2 the work today, but you also upped the sets in your usual routine, you didn't immediately notice that something was off with Changbin.

•It was only after you showered, dressed in Pajamas, and ate dinner with Binnie in front of the tv did you notice something was off. So, as the caring partner you were, you decided to ask .

•"Everything okay? you're weirdly silent, babe."

•"I don't know why don't you ask your new lover?"

•"what?"

•cue the confusion. After an hour of reassuring him that you in fact were not cheating on him, especially not having sex everyday after work, he decided to ask. "Well then what are you doing?"

•You knew the work excuse wouldn't hold up forever, but you wished it would have lasted longer than this. "Well… remember when I went with you to the gym a few months ago? I kinda wanted to start training, too. But I didn't want to tell you because I wanted to get in shape enough to follow your routine so we could go to the gym together, like a couple activity. With your traveling and my work, we can't have as many dates as we usually would, so I thought this would be fun. I wanted to surprise you, yaknow? You already do so much. I thought you would like this. But now it's ruined :/"

•You didn't look at him while you said it, but after the words left your mouth and you glanced up at him, he was staring at you with his eyes filled with so much adoration and the biggest smile, you were sure his cheeks were going to hurt later.

•Before you could even try and say another word, he grabbed your face and gave you a very long kiss. You had to tap his chest to let him know that 'hey, humans need oxygen dummy'

•"What was that for?" "I just love you so much" "I love you too Bin, but aren't you mad?"

•He was in pure disbelief, why would he be mad, you were actively trying to participate in something that was a big part of his life, you were showing him that you cared. Instead of answering he just pulled you next to him, in a tight hug and wouldn't let you go.

•Once you were in his grip he stopped in his tracks, squeezing you a few times, until he spoke again "If you were building muscle why are you wearing baggy clothes?"

•You stare at him dumbfounded, "I did tell you I wanted to surprise you, It wouldn't be much of a surprise if you saw growing muscle Bin." ok, yeah, that checked out.

•The next day Changbin excitedly jumped up and down in the gym, showing you off to the staff going "LOOK, LOOK, LOOK AT MY PARTNER" you didn't see the need since they already knew you, but let him have his fun nonetheless, he was to cute to stop.

•Sadly today was arms :(, you hated this, or so you thought. Watching Changbin work on his arms, completely forgetting about your own workout you came to a conclusion.

•Maybe arm day wasn't that bad.

Stray kids masterlist | Home page

Notes: I wrote this while at the gym :) It's cringy and doesn't completely make sense, but because of the reaction to my Jongho drabble, I got the motivation to write something so here is this.

[instantpansies]

Haiii againn :3

Uhmmmm

I was wondering what your general mml hcs are :p

okay i think i'm finally prepared to answer this question!!! i'll preface this by saying i'm much more obsessed w phineas and ferb than milo murphy's law. i love mml very much but i don't have nearly as many Thoughts(tm) about it as i do pnf... even so here's what i've got

i'm not just saying this bc he's the voice actor, i think milo would listen to weird al. that and like '90s-'00s pop hits (basically canon anyway)

melissa has adhd and can't function without variety. she's always multitasking, fiddling, taking hard classes to keep herself occupied

definitely she's the type to really want one of those treadmill desks

that's part of why she gets along so well with milo, it's never the same with him. he's exciting

melissa is the most online of the main kids i think. she probably plays fps games and argues with people who disagree with her on twitter

i think melissa would be a vocaloid fan, lydia got her into it and she passed it on to amanda

btw lydia has been a miku stan since third grade

also melissa likes metal. i have no proof of this but i think she'd like it. good for studying

zack cannot stand metal though, it's grating and he can't hear the lyrics

on the topic of the main kids, i'm not super into shipping or anything but my philosophy is, they all have two hands. so casually speaking i really like the dynamic of simultaneous milo/amanda, amanda/melissa, melissa/zack (i'm not wild about them but if we don't go overboard zalissa is fine), zack/bradley, bradley/milo. they are in a circle holding hands and i like them a lot :3

however like i said that's just for funsies and i dont really really ship anyone there. i do like the dynamics of that particular arrangement though lol!

sara was a tumblr user during the equivalent of superwholock, now that that's not really a thing anymore she's gotten more into analysis and the more geeky side of dr zone fandom. she still watches the old edits though

okayyy i'm kind of obsessed w cavendish and dakota so they r always spinning around in my brain

i think brick and savannah are newer agents than dakavendish, which is why cav is kinda bitter. despite working for the agency for longer, he got stuck with the worst equipment and the most unfulfilling job possible

cav is probably a little frustrated at dakota because of this, but i'd think after so long working w him he's realized that it's not dakota's fault they can't seem to climb the ladder. they're just like that. but obviously he hasn't accepted his fate as we see in the show

dakavendish have been in the same semi-romantic semi-platonic situationship forever. neither of them has said a word. if they knew what a qpr was they'd really like that but they've never heard of it so instead they're just stuck Like That. hopeless idiots my beloved

cavendish watches ancient aliens and all those other sorts of shows about supernatural conspiracies. he half believes them. dakota watches them with him, ironically.

anyways back to the kids. lydia and buford met once at a concert for some famous orchestra, they don't really hang out but they email back and forth sometimes and exchange recipes.

lydia and amanda have been best friends for as long as anyone can remember. it sometimes seems like lydia is just amanda's sidekick, but she just prefers to step out of the way and do her part from behind the scenes. it's less stressful for both of them.

amanda hates candles. just can't stand them. they smell too strong, or never smell right, or they pose a fire hazard, or the shape doesn't fit the vibe she's going for.

related to that i think amanda has some pretty strong sensory aversions, especially to smells and certain textures

milo's backpack is essentially a pocket dimension. it's his hammerspace, so he doesn't need to think too much about what fits or not. he packs it every morning, but the stuff basically comes from already in that hammerspace. there are times when he packs the wrong things (which we see in one episode), but that's because they aren't stored in the backpack and are instead inaccessible to him

basically im saying milo is mary poppins and he can hypothetically access anything he needs at any time. issues only arise when he is caught unaware and unprepared, and that is very rare

milo and sara really like going to creeks. especially when they were little they would go to the nearest creek or pond and wade and look for creatures in the water

baljeet ran a boy bands fan blog back when the lumberzacks were active. he was shouted out once on their old social media and it's still one of his proudest accomplishments.

this isn't really an mml hc but baljeet kind of reminds me of a friend who runs a blog and a youtube channel about some really niche tech and programming stuff, and is also just a normal guy on the internet, so i think baljeet probably does smth similar

amanda and melissa have been academic rivals for a long time, but they have a mutual understanding and it's never gotten nasty. bradley thinks he's melissa's academic rival but honestly she doesn't see him as competition at all

bradley has a pretty big sweet tooth. i'm basing this off the whole carla thing if it wasn't obvious, but he definitely stops by coffee shops after school and gets the sweetest drink he can. ice cream fan as well

tbh i unfortunately do not think much about mort or chad. i dont have any hcs about them

same with the murphy parents :( i like them a lot but i dont have any thoughts abt them rn

elliot is bradley's older cousin who never really got along with him but their parents made them hang out when they were little. i'm going off vibes only here

okay so yeah that's all i can think of for now!!! i'm sure i will think of more later lmao but anyways. mml is such a good show