#the way it’s like. a GYM

[charmac]

High school Charlie and Mac getting drunk under the bleachers at basketball games…

[seiwas]

cw: pro-hero bakugo, reader has boobs, kind of explicit/nsfw? idk i describe boobs, reader is smaller and shorter than bakugo, unedited sawry

bakugo's muscle tee looks as ill-fitting as it'll ever be draped over you.

there are reasons for this, perfectly founded and logical reasons for why that is—the main one being that, it's, well, his; two, maybe even three sizes larger than what it should be to fit you properly.

but, he can't stop staring, and there are reasons for that too—the main one being that, it's his, and yet, the only way he can ever imagine it now is when it's being worn by you.

your hips sway to the song you've been humming for the past five minutes. it's the same one, the chorus on a perpetual loop. he's sure it's the only part you know; you do this often enough that it's the only part he knows now, too.

the hem of his tee hits right at the top of your thighs, concealing just enough to tease, but he’s confident that if you reach up even the slightest bit for the cupboard overhead, there'll be nothing to hide.

he feels a little bit like a creep like this, watching as he stands in the middle of your shared living room, but it's impossible too look away—you've got to be doing this on purpose, right?

heat flares inside of him when you turn your body ever so slightly, the armhole of his muscle tee large enough to give him the clearest view of skin—

he gulps.

it's smooth, sloping just right; the side view of your under boob curves into its perfect shape and he can imagine it, feel—

(is this considered perving if he's been with you for years?)

the pan in front of you sizzles as you plop in god knows what. you pour in something from the side and wait, one hand propped on the hip you pop out. then, you pick up the pan, attempting to flip what's inside (probably a pancake, now that he thinks about it).

it’s hard to focus on what you’re cooking though, especially when all he sees is plump flesh jiggling, bouncing as you further agitate the pan.

he just got the pants of this suit readjusted, and now they're fucking tight.

bakugo normally runs hot; it’s kind of part of his dna. but this warmth is different, flushing him from head to toe. it creeps up the side of his neck, painting the tips of his ears a blooming red.

you turn around then, plopping the pancake on the plate atop the counter behind you.

"oh! you're done," you greet him with a smile. so. fucking. casually.

as if your tits aren't fucking peaking against the gray fabric of his tee.

as if you think he buys the fake innocence poorly concealing that sly, conniving look in your pretty eyes.

as if you aren't standing in front of him in his muscle tee, wearing nothing underneath it like you didn’t do this on purpose. like you don’t know what it fucking does to him.

his eyes squint suspiciously, deep vermillion staring straight into yours.

you tilt your head, the tips of your lashes kissing the top of your cheekbones as you blink. you reach for a bottle of honey.

“everything okay?” you ask, voice syrupy, sickeningly sweet.

your movements play in front of him languidly, the corner of your lips curling up slightly as you smirk. honey catches on your finger as you pop open the bottle cap.

he’s supposed to be out the door in five minutes if he wants to make it in time for a meeting at the agency. technically, he should already be there if he wants to keep up his track record of consistently being fifteen minutes too early.

but you start to approach him, rounding the kitchen island. there’s a narrow space between him and the slab of marble, but you slide into it like it was made for you.

he’s certain it was, from the way the tip of your nose brushes against his as you tiptoe. your tits are right fucking there, brushing against the skintight material of his suit.

there’s too much fucking fabric if you ask him, between cotton and spandex.

your grin widens, and he feels hot, the heat from his cheeks radiating.

then you whisper, still saccharine, “breakfast is ready,” before kissing him on the lips lightly. a short peck, soft in the way that promises more before you slip away, giggling in your retreat.

he huffs, watching you leave. his feet shift as he thinks.

five minutes, huh?

like hell he’s going to eat these damn pancakes for breakfast today.

[stubz]

"Human Max and Kim?"

"Yeah?"

"There is something that has been on my mind for quite some time now, a question about your work."

"Okay shoot."

"..."

"She means ask away."

"Ah. Yes, well. I was wondering how you two knew to train before coming to work here? As I was under the impression you both joined shortly after the coalition made contact with Earth."

"Train?"

"You mean for taking care of younglings?"

"Yes human Max."

"We didn't. We just used the training we already had and then learned on the job about the finer details."

"What she said. Although we did need to take some first aide courses before opening."

"...come again?"

"We barely had information of other species so we mostly relied on the training and teachings we received at home, Earth."

"Don't worry we took some night classes later on to be more prepared later on."

"How later is 'later on'?"

"About a month."

"...you seem really confused about this."

"That is because I am. . .how were you able to tolerate the biting then? Or the vast difference in height and weight from some of the larger ones? Or keep up with the fast ones?"

"Oh I was bit all the time at home. Both at work and at home."

"I just like running so it's not that hard for me. Kim still struggles though."

"I have tiny legs you jerk."

"But the strength and weight of some of them..."

"Oh right, on Earth you have to be able to lift at least 50 pounds to go into childcare."

"I thought it was 50 kilos..."

"...but that's like a hundred pounds...wait.."

"You have to be able to lift 50-100 pounds with ease!"

"...How heavy are your children?"

"Between 50-100 pounds."

[yuwuta]

olympics coming up…… athlete aus on the mind….. satoru as a swimmer….. unreasonably large wingspan…. huge hands..... thinks “official” competitions and tournaments are boring because he can’t use the goofy purple googly eyes goggles he likes to practice in…… practices at ungodly hours solely because he likes when the pool is empty because that means you’ll dip your feet in at the edge and be there to greet him with a kiss when he’s finished his laps….. they bring up the stats board and it’s just his name ten times before the next fastest person and he could still lap them, and even tho he’ll always put so much pressure on himself to be the best, it’s worth it to have you hold his face and tell him you’re proud of him... he’s gotten so much merch from events and sponsorships and he used to think they just created clutter but that all changes when you start to wear his clothes (esp the ones with his name on it… he’s not proud to admit that does Something to him)…. always looks up to the stands when he finishes a race and if he knows you’re not there, he looks right at the camera, draws an infinity sign with his fingers, and blows a kiss (which, some commentators routinely call “unsportsmanlike conduct” but he doesn’t care, and always, publicly says he’ll pay the fees if it means blowing a kiss to his girl at home)

[sofiaruelle]

You look sporty today! 🏀🏈⚽️

[simandy]

I find it fascinating how every single one of my health issues can be mistaken for laziness

[khaopybara]

but if you let me help, maybe you can go beyond your limits.

JOONG ARCHEN as FADEL episode 4 of THE HEART KILLERS

[faceeeeee]

I forgot to post this concept sketch thing whoops

[bacchuschucklefuck]

okay unironically I love so much that porter is like this world SUCKS its BAD here and it HURTS you why do you care abt it!!! and literally every single bad kid is like ngl we just hate ur ass it does not matter what ur philosophy is

[nixiecat]

I look fucking great today but my muscles are so sore... yknow I bet there's enough freaks following me that we could get one person who's really weird about each specific part of me that hurts so I can get like. a full body massage all at once what do we think

[apnourry]

hydrangea blue never broke my heart🫶

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

okay, trying and utterly failing to be normal about the fact this tracksuit zip up

is the same one he wore during eycte in 2016

i mean. help??????? 🫠

[souenkun]

Larry's random conversarion lines 🍙

Pokémon Masters EX spoilers ahead!

Random conversation 1:

Ever since I met a certain individual, I now find myself gazing up at the sky every once in a while. There's scenery you'll never even notice if you stick to flat, well-trodden paths. Just something I've observed. I don't dislike the vast, clear sky... But I don't think I can reach it. It's nice to know that there's something like that out there, though.

Random conversation 2:

Pasio seems to have many good restaurants. Ah, I'm not asking for specific recommendations, though... I actually enjoy walking around and looking for a place I might like. That's part of the experience. I seek the exceptional only when it comes to food. Pasio has a variety of cuisines to choose from, so it's hard to stick to just one.

Random conversation 3:

(Player), which do you tend to favor: the exceptional or the average? I was thinking of inviting you to have a meal sometime. Casually figuring out your client's preferences is a special skill that you learn as a salaried employee.

Random conversation 4:

Lunchtime is one of the few things that a salaried employee like me can look forward to at work... We can decide whether to spend that precious time eating something familiar or trying out a new restaurant. It's not just about the meal. The decision-making process leading up to it is also something to look forward to.

Random conversation 5:

People, Pokémon... There's no need to overcomplicate things. Nowadays people only seem to want a shock factor. Something weird, something bizarre. When all's said and done, simplicity is strongest.

Random conversation 6:

You don't necessarily have to follow every instruction from your boss. But I pretend to follow them, at least, so I can avoid hassles later on. That's a technique you can use to get by in the workplace. Keep it in mind.

Random conversation 7:

I'm here in this famous tourist spot, but I can't really spread my wings while my boss has her eye on me. I guess I'll do what I usually do on my lunch break and find a spot to Roost...

[uncanny-tranny]

Sometimes, I'm sad about the hobbies I have abandoned or have been too intimidated to pick up. But... what good is it, to just beat myself up over that? My bass is sitting in the corner, patiently waiting, and so is everything else. My life isn't over, and I've got nothing to answer to. I'm wading through a sea of time, and I'll pick up the seashells that interest me, and it's okay to put one back in the sand. The current's waves will bring it back to me if that is to be destiny. I can not hate myself into productivity, so I must swim on.

I think the same can apply to anybody. It's okay if you have dropped something, such as a hobby or passion. Human beings are like that sometimes, it isn't reasonable for you to beat yourself into submission. You, too, can not hate yourself into being a well-rounded person. You must cultivate it like you would a garden - with patience, time, and care.

[sleepy-steve]

🧠🪱 Wiggly Wednesday Thursday 🧠 🪱

thank you for tagging me @stervrucht 🖤

no pressure tags: @frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe @stevesbipanic and of course anyone else that would like to ♡

thinking about Steve and Eddie who, after going through rounds of physical therapy after everything, continue to work out together because Steve obviously loves it and loves having a friend to work out with. and Eddie notices the difference in his stamina when he gets back to performing on stage. (and if Eddie likes to watch Steve work out a little bit, and likes Steve coming over to help his form more than a little bit, well that’s his business.) but Steve takes a dance class and shakes up his usual warmup, leaving Eddie with some… thoughts.

***

“Okay, Munson,” Steve says, pulling his arm across his body for a shoulder stretch. “You ready?”

“Ready to be tortured? Always,” Eddie jokes. It was their thing. Eddie acts like he hates being there, but he still shows up every other day to their local gym in Indianapolis. And he won’t ever deny the benefits he’s noticed since starting their exercise regime. He's faster on stage, doesn't get winded near as easily, holding those screaming notes without feeling like his lungs will explode. Little did he know that today his joke would come to be true.

Steve liked most kinds of exercise. He was a sporty guy. He liked the pull and stretch of his muscles, the feeling of accomplishment after achieving a new goal, that delicious soreness the day after a really good workout. But mostly he loved trying new things. He’d give anything half a chance if he thought it might be fun. Which is how he ended up at a dance-aerobics class the week prior, finding himself having a lot of fun, blushing furiously when the women in the class complimented how quickly he picks up the steps.

He went back three more times that week. Part of his enjoyment came from the new warmup he was taught in the class. Steve’s usual warmup consisted of basic stretches and a light jog, covering all bases to ensure he didn’t get injured, but not very exciting.

This, however, was far more enjoyable. Steve found himself sinking deep into stretches he didn't know he had flexibility for, and moving his hips to a beat, ultimately just having way more fun with the warmup. And it was about to become a huge problem for Eddie.

Steve pops his headphones over his ears, the tape deck tucked securely in his shorts pocket. He bends over, inhaling deeply as the song starts, rising up with his hands overhead, exhaling as he rolls his wrists, hips moving side to side with the beat. His already short cropped t-shirt rises, showing off a good amount of his chest. He lets his arms come down, bending over again, feeling the pull in his hamstrings. Gripping his elbows, he lets the top half of his body hang, swinging from side to side, his hamstrings fully stretched out.

Eddie looks up from his own basic stretching, shocked to see Steve fully bent over, because hey, since when was he so flexible? With Metallica blaring through his own headphones, Eddie just stares, completely forgetting where he was at in his warmup.

Steve lets his hands drop, moving to one foot, back to the centre, then the other foot. Ass just up in the air, his shorts way too tight. Eddie swallows. He’d been denying his crush for months at this point, and good god this was not helping.

Rolling his shoulders as he stands up, Steve lets his hands travel down his bare thighs, sinking into a squat with his back arched and head tilted back. Eddie's eyes are wide as he watches those tight little shorts with the little cut-ins on the sides ride up, showing far more of Steve's glorious hairy thighs than Eddie can handle. Steve drops his head forward, hunching his shoulders as he moves back to standing. He repeats the motions, and Eddie wishes he had the strength to pull his stare away from Steve's ass.

Seeing Steve's head tilted back and his back arched is sending Eddie insane. Like, he geninely thinks he might evaporate on the spot if he keeps watching. But he just can't look away.

Turning himself sideways, Steve has one foot stepped out in front of the other, legs perfectly straightened into a triangle shape, bent over his front leg. Just when Eddie thinks he’s about to get up and end his suffering, Steve lowers himself down into a lunge. His little shorts definitely way too small and tight for the movement, Steve lunges back and forth, fingertips resting on the ground on either side of his front foot. Eddie watches as the t-shirt rides up with each lunge, the desire to get his lips and tongue all over Steve's chest overwhelming him.

Shaking himself, Eddie tries to remember which shoulder stretch he was up to. He attempts something close to a stretch, but he can’t be sure he's doing it right, because Steve has lowered himself to the ground, front leg bent and back leg perfectly straight, and is fucking thrusting into the ground. If he were to ask Steve, he’d find out this was a hip flexor stretch. But Eddie’s forgotten how to form words entirely, suddenly imagining nineteen different ways he wants to get dicked down by the man before him.

Eddie suffers in silence, heart racing in his chest, watching as Steve repeats the movements on his other side. He prays that the torture ends soon, that they can just get to the workout, and Eddie can go back to pretending he doesn't want to ride Steve until his thighs give out. But Eddie gets no such luck.

Steve has moved into some kind of triangle position, hands on the ground, legs straight, and of fucking course, his ass in the air. Eddie marvels at how straight the shape is, only for a moment, because then Steve is lifting his heels up and down in turn, and jesus christ those tiny little shorts are just riding up, and Eddie can see a hint of Steve's ass peeking out. His jaw drops. He may actually explode.

Just when Eddie's thinking he can't take much more of this, Steve lowers himself down, knees spread wide, arms stretched out in front of him and head tucked down. A wild and rushed series of thoughts fly across Eddie's mind, all centred around Steve kneeling down in front of him. Eddie needs to get it together quickly.

As Steve brings himself back up to the triangle position, walking his feet to meet his hands and rolling his spine up, shoulders and head rolling back last, he sees Eddie taking off for his warmup jog. Assuming that he probably just took too long with his new warmup, Steve shrugs it off and starts his jog shortly after.

Eddie hits his personal best in several weights that day, desperately trying to expend his excess energy in some way. He barely registers the wins, mind still stuck on Steve and his perfect ass in all those new positions. He almost dissolves on the spot when Steve claps him on the shoulder in congratuations.

At the end of their session, Eddie takes a freezing cold shower and prays for the sweet release of death.

[dotted-clouds]

my pokemon hag husbands💕