#Bench-Press

[kensatou]

the h in nhl stands for homoerotic

bonus intricate rituals:

[beloveds-embrace]

Yeah yeah short and soft fem readers are cute and we love and adore them but also. We need to consider a fem reader who is an absolute unit. Big, as tall as (or even taller than) Ghost, muscular and thick as fuck. So covered with armor and gear you make Ghost himself look underdressed.

Big enough to also to be mistaken for a man. Your teammates, though, don’t care about such things- they are just damn hungry for any sliver of skin you are willing to show them.

[emry-stars-art]

Completely unrelated to TGR but I would like to kindly and politely request more buff Andrew <3 maybe Andrew bench pressing Neil or Neil gushing over Andrew being 💪💪 you know?

You knowwwwww I can’t resist a beefy Andrew. And neither can Neil

Pls someone help Neil order his thoughts. Head empty rn

[hyuckiefluff]

playing dirty | z. chenle

pairing: basketball captain! chenle x fashion major! fem.reader

genre: established relationship, smut, a lil bit of crack

wc: 4k

summary: you’re tired of chenle ditching you for basketball practice, so you do what any rational girlfriend would do—show up to his practice in a slutty version of his team’s uniform. turns out you’re kind of good at basketball. turns out chenle can’t handle watching his teammates ogle the love of his life. turns out the locker room has a lock for a reason.

content warnings: semi-public sex, jealousy & possessiveness, mild clothing kink, oral sex (fem receiving), unprotected sex, light degradation (slut), brief choking, hair pulling, creampie, titfucking, spit play, exhibitionism (accidental), bratty reader, basketball but make it horny, suggestive banter, mild embarrassment & teasing, soft dom!chenle. lmk if i missed any!

a/n: possessive chenle save me SAVE ME POSSESSIVE CHENLE lol i had a lot of fun writing this and i rlly like how it came out (especially the smut kekeke). kinda nervous since it’s my first chenle fic lol lmk what u think bffs! ps: stream lucid !! my king chenle is serving face and vocals as usual!!

you’re sick of it.

sick of the half‑assed excuses, the “i’ll make it up to you, babe” texts, the cold side of your bed because basketball practice ran late again. the sport isn’t the villain here—chenle’s priorities are. so tonight you decide to speak in the only language that ever slapped any sense into him: pure, weaponized pettiness.

you dig into your closet to find the box tucked behind an old hoodie. the custom set you spent a whole week sewing in the campus fashion studio—his cropped jersey perfectly tailored to end right above your ribs, his number stretched neatly across your chest, tight little shorts that ride up high enough to give anyone with a pulse an aneurysm, and tube socks that reach your knees but do absolutely nothing to hide how much skin is on display. 

you originally designed it as a birthday gift for chenle, something psexy and playful, the kind of outfit that should not leave the bedroom.

but desperate times call for desperate measures.

“you want to play, baby,” you murmur to yourself, lip tugging into a smirk as you tug the top down over your chest, admiring how your careful stitchwork hugs every curve. “let’s play then.”

twenty minutes later, you're outside the gym where chenle’s practicing. you can hear echoing laughter, the thump of basketballs, and the sound of sneakers squeaking across the court. chenle’s voice cuts through it every few seconds barking out plays or teasing his teammates, totally oblivious to the chaos about to walk through the double doors.

you adjust the hem of your very customized uniform and tug the waistband of your shorts up an inch, just enough to make your ass cheeks peek out more.

when you swing the gym doors open, a dozen jaws detach from skulls in real time. one guy bricks a layup so hard the ball ricochets off the backboard and clatters to the floor.

chenle basically inhales the water he was drinking the moment he sees you strut onto the court in the tiny jersey you stitched yourself. he doesn’t even manage any words at first, just blinks slowly.

you beam, stepping closer. “hey, baby!”

he moves toward you quickly, fingers gripping the hem of your jersey and trying to tug it down. “what the hell are you wearing?”

“your uniform, duh!” you say innocently. “remember you said i could come practice with you sometime?”

“yeah—but not…not like this!” he hisses, glancing sharply over his shoulder. his teammates aren’t even pretending to look away, their eyes glued shamelessly to every exposed inch of you. chenle groans, turning back to you in disbelief. “jesus christ, y/n.”

you spin slowly, letting him admire your handiwork. “i made it myself. do you like it?”

his eyes narrow, but they still flick down to watch your chest bounce beneath the tight fabric.

somewhere behind him, jaemin whistles low and appreciative. “yo, chenle, if you don’t want her, i’ll gladly take her on my team.”

chenle’s jaw clenches. “let’s go,” he mutters, gripping your wrist to lead you off the court.

but you plant your feet, looking up at him through your lashes. “lele, you promised you’d teach me,” you pout, your voice sweet and pleading—exactly the tone you know breaks him every single time.

you see the storm raging behind his eyes, the internal battle he’s clearly losing. after a long, tense pause, he finally gives in with an irritated sigh.

“fine,” chenle groans, running an exasperated hand through his hair. “i’ll teach you.”

he tries to sound firm, tries so damn hard to keep his cool but his voice cracks the instant you bend down to grab a stray basketball. every single set of eyes follows as your shorts ride dangerously higher. chenle practically growls under his breath.

“eyes up,” he snaps sharply at his teammates.

you hide a satisfied smirk, straightening up slowly and tossing chenle the ball. “so, how do i shoot?”

he glares at you, conflicted. he knows exactly what game you’re playing, but it’s too late to back down now. he steps close, muttering something unintelligible under his breath and positions his hands firmly on your waist. his fingers flex possessively against your skin making heat spark low in your belly.

“bend your knees,” chenle instructs tightly. you comply, feeling him tense behind you as your ass brushes firmly against him. he clears his throat roughly. “now raise your arms.”

you do as you’re told, stretching slowly, feeling every pair of eyes glued to the way your jersey inches higher. someone coughs loudly and someone else whistles under their breath.

“like this?” you ask, feigning innocence as you toss the ball. it hits the rim and bounces away, but the guys clap loudly like you just dunked on lebron.

chenle’s jaw clenches. “yeah, like that,” he mutters through gritted teeth, pulling you close again. “try it again, but please don’t stick your ass out so much this time.”

you laugh softly, leaning back just enough to whisper in his ear. “why not? you like it.”

he groans quietly, his grip on your hip tightening in warning. “don’t push it, baby.”

just as chenle's hands tense possessively at your waist, a teasing voice interrupts from behind.

“yo, captain! why don’t we run a quick game? let your girl play too, seems like she’s picking it up quickly.”

chenle's entire body stiffens, eyes narrowing dangerously at the cocky teammate smirking across the court. haechan, obviously—never passing up a chance to stir shit up.

“yeah,” another voice eagerly agrees. “she can be on our team!”

“not a chance,” chenle snaps, glaring daggers at them. “she stays with me.”

you tilt your head. “actually, i think i wanna be on the other team. it'll be fun playing against you.”

he groans quietly, clearly torn between the urge to pull you away and needing to save face in front of the team. he runs a frustrated hand through his hair before giving in with a sharp exhale. “fine. first team to five points wins, then we’re done. keep it clean,” he warns, voice tight as he shoots a pointed glare toward his teammates.

the guys erupt in cheers, gathering quickly around you to strategize. haechan immediately drapes an arm lazily over your shoulder, pulling you closer than strictly necessary and making chenle visibly bristle.

“alright, newbie,” haechan smirks, eyes flicking playfully toward chenle. “just stand there looking pretty and we’ll handle the rest.”

you smile sweetly, leaning up close enough to whisper in his ear and making sure chenle sees every move. “oh, i can handle myself just fine.”

you catch chenle’s scowl deepening, his fists clenching at his sides. suddenly, the entire gym feels about ten degrees hotter, and you’re pretty sure it has nothing to do with basketball.

the game begins, and the team immediately spreads out, pretending to care about positions and plays, but half their attention is undeniably on you. you smile sweetly, dribbling cautiously, deliberately bending forward just enough to ensure everyone behind you gets a generous view.

chenle’s voice slices sharply through the gym, frustration barely restrained. “eyes on the damn ball, idiots.”

you stifle a laugh, heart thrumming with exhilaration. you might be new to basketball, but getting under chenle’s skin is a game you’ve mastered to perfection.

every bounce of the ball, every step you take, you can feel eyes following—chenle’s most intensely of all. he’s practically vibrating with jealousy, torn between defending against his teammates’ shameless stares and actually playing defense.

haechan effortlessly steals the ball from your boyfriend and tosses it your way, shouting, “take the shot, rookie!”

you catch it clumsily, laughing breathlessly as chenle lunges in your direction, eyes narrowed with determination. adrenaline spikes as you fake left, then slip past him with surprising agility. your lay-up is sloppy, but by some miracle, it actually swishes neatly through the hoop.

the gym erupts in cheers and whistles. spinning around with a triumphant grin, you lift your arms in exaggerated celebration. haechan immediately appears beside you, pulling you into an enthusiastic hug that lingers just a second too long.

“damn, captain,” he calls out loudly. “better watch out, your girl got sweeter hands than you.”

chenle’s eyes flash dangerously, jaw visibly clenching as he stalks across the court toward you. every step radiates possessiveness and simmering annoyance. you tilt your head innocently, knowing exactly what’s coming next and loving every heated second of it.

“that's it. practice over,” he announces sharply, grabbing your wrist and pulling you toward the locker rooms.

“aww, dude—” haechan starts, clearly amused, but chenle silences him with a glare that could kill.

you bite your lip, heart pounding with satisfaction. finally, you’ve pushed him right past breaking point.

exactly as planned.

chenle’s grip on your wrist is firm, bordering on rough, as he drags you past the swinging locker room door and shoves it closed behind you. the echoes of sneakers squeaking and voices laughing outside fade, replaced by the rapid thump of your heartbeat and chenle’s heavy breathing.

he turns sharply, backing you against the lockers, eyes darkened with frustration.

“what the hell was that?” he demands, voice low and raw. his gaze drifts from your flushed cheeks down to the ridiculously cropped jersey, lingering briefly on the exposed curve of your waist before snapping back up to meet your eyes.

“basketball practice,” you reply innocently. “you always said you wanted me to learn.”

“not dressed like this,” he growls. 

his hand finds the hem of your jersey, fingers grazing the bare skin underneath. he hesitates, visibly swallowing down his jealousy. “you really made this yourself?”

“yep,” you say lifting your chin proudly. “thought it might inspire you.”

chenle scoffs, but his thumb drifts in soft circles at your waist despite the scowl. “inspire me to what? murder my teammates?”

you giggle, fingertips dancing across his chest. “you’re jealous, lele. admit it.”

“yeah, i am,” he mutters sharply.

his grip tightens on your waist, pulling you even closer against him. “didn’t you see how those assholes were looking at you? like they wanted—”

“like they wanted what’s yours?” you interrupt softly, teasing a finger along his jaw. “maybe i just felt like reminding you of that.”

his breath catches, and for a moment, he just stares down at you. finally, he sighs heavily, tension slipping into something deeper, hotter, infinitely more possessive.

“well, consider me reminded,” he murmurs, voice raspy as his lips brush teasingly against your ear. “but you’re never wearing this again for anyone but me.”

you shiver, leaning into him as your voice drops to a whisper. “oh? and what if i refuse?”

he smirks dangerously, eyes glinting. “then i guess i’ll just have to make you.”

his mouth melts against yours before you can tease him again. the kiss is punishing, hard enough to erase every grin haechan shot your way and every greedy glance the team threw at your thighs. 

his hands roam without hesitation gripping your waist, sliding up under the jersey, cupping your breasts with a low groan. he breaks the kiss to mutter, “fuck, you’re not even wearing a bra?”

“would’ve ruined the look,” you whisper, breath hitching as his thumbs brush your nipples. “you like it?”

“fuck yeah i like it” he growls.

you gasp as he yanks the jersey over your head in one swift motion and places it in his pocket. his lips trail down your neck, biting at the skin there. “next time you wanna get my attention,” he mutters, voice muffled against your collarbone, “just fucking say so. don’t make me nearly kill haechan on the court.”

you giggle, threading your fingers through his hair. “where’s the fun in that?”

his eyes flash as he sinks to his knees, fingers curling into the waistband of your shorts. “i’ll show you fun.”

he tugs them down so slowly it's almost torturous and drags your panties with them. his breath ghosts over your inner thighs, his mouth following suit a moment later. he groans against your skin, licking a slow stripe up your center before wrapping his arms around your legs and diving in.

you slap a hand over your mouth to muffle the moan that slips out. the locker room’s not soundproof, and the last thing you need is the team doubling back and catching chenle with his head buried between your thighs.

but he doesn’t care. he wants them to know. he wants them to hear you fall apart on his tongue, wants every single one of those bastards to understand that you’re his.

you’re already trembling when he stands back up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and kissing you. his fingers curl under your thigh, lifting you effortlessly as he walks you backward into the coach’s office—a smaller room with a desk and a door that locks.

he kicks it shut behind him.

“bend over the desk,” he commands, voice low and dangerous.

you obey, heat pooling between your legs again as your chest hits the wood and his hands smooth down your spine. he’s rougher now, undoing his shorts with jerky movements, lining himself up behind you with no warning except a hot breath against your ear and the blunt press of his tip against your entrance.

“you wanna dress like a little slut in front of my team?” he rasps, gripping your hips. “then take it like one.”

he slams into you in one deep, punishing thrust, and you cry out, barely able to hold yourself up. each snap sends your hips jerking against the desk, the edge biting into your stomach.

“this what you wanted?” he pants behind you, fingers digging into your waist hard enough to bruise. “wanted to make me jealous? wanted to be the center of attention?”

you nod frantically, but it’s not enough. his hand tangles in your hair, pulling your head back so your eyes meet his in the reflection of the office window that’s fogged up and smeared from the heat of your bodies.

“say it.”

“yes,” you gasp out, eyes glassy. “i wanted to drive you crazy.”

he chuckles darkly, chest heaving. “congrats, baby. mission fucking accomplished.”

his hand slips down, fingers finding your clit and circling it mercilessly. your legs threaten to give out, but he holds you steady, pinning you against the desk with his weight and the sharp slap of his hips.

“look at you,” he growls. “acting all innocent in front of my team, now falling apart on my cock.”

you’re close to your orgasm when suddenly, he yanks you back by the hair and pulls out with a wet slap. you whimper at the loss, but he’s already grabbing your hips nd spinning you around.

he spreads your legs and slides back in with a guttural moan. his hands come up, almost reverently, cupping the soft weight of your breasts as they bounce with every thrust. 

his thumbs brush over your nipple and then he leans down, mouth hot and greedy as he sucks one into his mouth, groaning in pleasure.

“fuck—” he pants, tongue swirling and teeth grazing just enough to make you jolt. “i can’t fucking think when they’re out like this. you know what you do to me?” 

your moans are strangled now. he’s sucking so hard, it s leaving deep red bruises all over your chest. he bites, soothes, sucks again. you clutch at his shoulders, legs wrapping tighter around him, and he grinds deeper, angling his hips to hit exactly where you need him most. his rhythm’s gone erratic, his obsession pouring into every snap of his hips, every bruise he leaves behind.

“look at you,” he pants, pulling back just far enough to watch. “bouncing all pretty for me. no one else gets to see this. no one else gets to fucking touch you.”

his palm slaps across your tit. hard enough to make it jiggle and watch the recoil as he thrusts in hard.

“fuck,” he groans, voice breaking. “you’re gonna make me cum just looking at you.”

your head lolls back, a whimper escaping your lips as his hand slides from your breast down to your neck, holding you still, eyes locked on the mess of you laid out under him—wrecked and panting and marked everywhere his mouth could reach.

you’re close again, tighter and hotter this time, clenching around him. your moans echo in the small office, filthy and raw, and he doesn’t even try to hold back now.

he fucks into you harder, mouth locked on your nipple again as he spills inside you, every muscle in his body tensing as he groans against your chest 

you’re barely coherent, mind hazy from the way he just fucked you over the desk. but chenle isn’t satisfied. not even close. he steps back to drink in your naked form, flushed and dripping with him.

his cock’s still rock hard somehow, twitching against his stomach, and his stare is nothing short of unhinged.

“lean back,” he rasps, grabbing your chin with wet fingers. “hands behind you. keep your tits up.”

you obey instinctively, legs falling open wider as you brace yourself on the desk, presenting yourself like the filthy little offering you are.

chenle just grins and crouches slightly, grabbing your breasts with both hands. and then he spits on your chest. hot, stringy spit right down the center of your, sliding between your tits and pooling under your collarbone.

“that’s better,” he mutters, eyes gleaming. “you look so hot covered in my spit.”

you gasp, chest rising as he does it again. letting it drip from his tongue while staring you down, and then he smears it in using his thumbs to rub it across your nipples.

you moan, high and wrecked. “lele—fuck—”

“look at your fucking face. you’re getting off on this.”

you are. embarrassingly so. he can see it in the way your thighs clench, and in the way your hips shift forward aching for more attention. he presses his cock between your tits now, sliding it back and forth while kneading them hard, thumb brushing over your nipple with every thrust.

“look at me,” he snaps.

your gaze locks onto his, dizzy and dazed.

“open your mouth.”

you do and he spits again, right onto your tongue.

“don’t swallow yet.” he growls, shoving his cock between your tits faster now, panting like a man losing his mind. “keep it there. hold it.”

you moan around the spit in your mouth, letting it dribble down your chin just to watch his eyes darken even more. chenle looks fucking deranged with lust.

you moan when the head of his cock slides forward, the tip just barely grazing your chin on the upstroke.

you glance up at him, lashes fluttering, and then you stick your tongue out enough to tease the head when it brushes close.

“fuck,” he hisses, thrusting harder between your breasts now, chasing that angle again, just to feel your tongue catch him. “you want it in your mouth that bad, huh? can’t even wait?”

his cock keeps hitting just under your chin, and every time it does, you flick your tongue out again and catch the tip, tasting the mess off his slit.

“fucking—fuck,” he curses. “do it again.”

you do and this time, you even suck lightly when he slows for a second, lips parting around just the head before he pulls back and keeps fucking your chest. his control is shattered now. his body stutters and twitches with every stroke.

you whimper, fingers gripping the edge of the desk behind you, mouth open and waiting.

“you love this,” he pants. “you love being used like this. letting me fuck your tits… drooling for my cock.”

“i love it,”  you whisper, lips glossy with spit and pre-cum. “i love how crazy you get when i do.”

he thrusts one more time and spills between your breasts again, ropes of cum painting your skin. you lean forward, tongue dragging through his tip. licking the cum off it slowly, like a cat drinking milk.

chenle nearly collapses, stumbling forward and pressing against your bare chest.

“you ever show up to practice like that again,” he murmurs, voice hoarse against your skin, “i’ll fuck you in front of them all. make ‘em watch while i ruin you.”

you whimper, still trembling beneath him.

“but for now,” he smirks, wiping your chin with his thumb and sucking it clean, “this mess stays just between us.”

you’re still catching your breath, body slick with sweat and spit and cum, when chenle leans in and presses a soft kiss to your shoulder. it’s a jarring contrast to the way he just wrecked you against the desk, but that’s chenle. feral one minute, gentle the next. both versions still obsessed with you.

he puts on his shorts, pulls your jersey from the pocket and inspects it with a low whistle.

“you’re not putting this back on,” he mutters, shaking his head. “no fucking way.”

you smirk, chest still rising and falling as you look up at him. “why not? i worked hard on it.”

“you said you made it to inspire me, so i’m keeping it.” he crumples the jersey in one fist and shoves it straight into his pocket. “i’m hanging that shit on my wall.”

you laugh, weakly. “you’re ridiculous.”

he grabs his team jacket and drapes it over your shoulders, zipping it halfway up. it swallows your smaller frame, falling almost to your knees, sleeves covering your hands entirely. the way he looks at you—satisfied and possessive—makes it clear the outfit isn't negotiable.

“here,” he says, tightening the collar just a bit. “this is all you’re wearing now.”

you glance down at how the hem of the jacket just barely hits the tops of your thighs. you’re still wearing nothing underneath.

“guess i’m going commando,” you hum, teasing.

“yeah, but no one’s gonna know except me.” chenle grins, standing tall and adjusting your hair with stupid care. “let’s get you out of here.”

you barely make it out of the office when a low whistle slices through the silence.

the entire team—haechan front and center—is awkwardly standing there, pretending they haven't been shamelessly eavesdropping. 

“damn, took you long enough.”

chenle freezes, fingers tightening around yours so hard you nearly yelp. 

“i think you lost these,” haechan says, eyes sparkling mischievously as he spins something delicate around his index finger, your eyes widen with recognition.

your panties.

“found ‘em by the lockers. figured someone might be missing them.”

chenle’s face goes murderous in a heartbeat, jaw clenching so tight you're afraid his teeth might crack.

“give me those,” he growls, lunging toward haechan, who dances backward, keeping them just out of reach.

the boy chuckles, clearly enjoying every second of this torture. “you gotta be careful, man. wouldn’t want anyone else to find your girl’s cute little souvenirs.”

chenle lunges again, this time catching haechan’s wrist, wrenching your panties out of his grasp roughly. “i’ll kill you, dude.”

haechan just laughs, completely unfazed. he shifts his gaze toward you, his voice playfully taunting. “maybe next time you practice with us, try keeping these on? might help the captain focus a little better.”

you bury your face into chenle’s chest, half laughing, half dying of embarrassment. chenle just rolls his eyes, pulling you closer and guiding you down the hallway, past his shameless teammates. 

“you assholes got nothing better to do?”

“nah,” haechan replies smoothly, eyes twinkling with barely restrained laughter. “but it sounds like you two were pretty busy.”

the team snickers loudly, trying (and failing) to keep straight faces. chenle’s ears turn scarlet, but he keeps a protective arm tightly wrapped around your shoulders.

“fuck off,” chenle mutters darkly. “next practice, you’re all running laps until you puke.”

“worth it,” haechan teases, tossing you a playful wink. “good game, by the way.”

“practice tomorrow?” jaemin asks from behind, laughter bubbling beneath his words.

“fuck no,” chenle growls back without turning around. “we’ll be busy.”

as you pass the door,  haechan calls out, voice dripping amusement and challenge

“see you next practice y/n!”

chenle’s response is immediate, muttered darkly into your ear. “like hell he will.”

your cheeks burn from embarrassment—and exhilaration.

mission fucking accomplished, indeed.

[kxsagi]

lowk thinking ab reader asking for a hug from Rin or Isagi (literally anyone idc the whole cast is fine asl) just so she can feel her face up against their chest 😩😩😩😩😩

“𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬”

a/n: LITERALLY ME the blue lock boys are not safe from me 🌚

meguru bachira

whenever you’re feeling down, you just walk over to him with your arms slightly open, no words needed. he’s already pulling you into his chest, one hand on the back of your head, keeping you there for as long as you need.

his reaction: he doesn’t say anything, just holds you tighter, his fingers idly running through your hair. if you sniffle even a little, he gently rocks you side to side, kissing the top of your head without making a fuss about it. 

mikage reo

you’re not even sad. you just walk up, hug him, and press your face into his chest, mumbling, “you’re so squishy,” while giving a satisfied hum. he freezes. “squishy?” he repeats, mildly offended.

his reaction: he immediately flexes his chest, making it firmer under your face. “squishy where?” he grumbles, completely unserious but still slightly wounded. you just snort into his pecs, unbothered.

yoichi isagi

you randomly ask for a hug in the middle of him doing literally anything. mid-sentence? mid-game? mid-lunge at practice? doesn’t matter. he drops everything, opens his arms, and lets you faceplant into his chest.

his reaction: he’s unfazed, used to your spontaneous neediness. “again?” he teases, but his arms are already wrapping around you like it’s instinct. he mumbles into your hair, “you’re lucky you’re cute.”

seishiro nagi

he’s laying on the couch and you just crawl on top of him unceremoniously. “hug,” you demand, like it’s your legal right. he chuckles under his breath but immediately wraps you up, letting you nuzzle into his chest like a needy cat. 

his reaction: he lets out a low sigh of contentment, sinking further into the cushions. “you’re gonna crush me,” he mutters dramatically, but his hands stroke down your back lazily, clearly not minding the weight of you one bit.

ryusei shidou

sometimes, you bury your face into his chest and he makes fun of you by dramatically flexing his pecs, making them bounce slightly. “bet you can’t do that,” he smirks. you just deadpan, “i came for comfort, not a pec show.”

his reaction: he throws his head back laughing, clearly entertained by your deadpan delivery. “pec show,” he repeats mockingly before giving your face a playful squish. “you’re so weird. i love you.”

tabito karasu

after a long day, you ask for a hug just so you can feel how solid and warm his chest is. you literally press your ear to it and sigh contently, saying, “i can hear your man boobs breathe.” he chokes on his own spit. 

his reaction: he immediately pulls back to stare at you, wheezing. “man boobs?” he repeats, offended. he pokes at his own pecs, glaring playfully. “these are premium grade-a pecs, babe.”

sae itoshi

when he gets out of the shower, you sneak into the bathroom and ask for a hug while he’s still shirtless, just to feel his damp chest against your face. he’s too confused by your antics to even question it anymore. 

his reaction: he just sighs in exasperation, but there’s a fond smile tugging at his lips. “you’re so weird for this,” he mumbles as he hugs you anyway, the heat of his skin making you melt.

rin itoshi

you’ve definitely fallen asleep while hugging him. one minute you’re enjoying the warmth of his chest, and the next, you’re drooling on it. he just sighs, completely used to it, and tucks you in tighter. 

his reaction: he glances down at you drooling on his chest, then slowly blinks. “really?” he mutters, but instead of moving you, he pulls the blanket over both of you and just lets you snooze away.

yukimiya kenyu

sometimes you walk into the kitchen, grab a snack, and instead of sitting at the table, you just walk over and press yourself into his chest. no warning. no reason. just casually eating a granola bar against your human pillow. 

his reaction: he stares down at you with a raised brow, amused but confused. “you good?” he asks, but when you just hum in content, he chuckles softly and strokes your hair, deciding to let you marinate there like it’s completely normal. 

shoei barou

he tries to work out in peace, but you keep walking over and asking for hugs. and it’s not even that you miss him, you just want to feel his chest against your face. eventually, he gives up and hugs you mid-set, mumbling, “you’re lucky i love you.”

his reaction: he shakes his head in mock defeat, acting like you’re such a burden, but his arms hold you tight. “such a menace,” he grumbles, but he’s the one pressing a kiss to your forehead and not letting go first.

[iizuumi]

[carefulzombie]

jamie’s not scrawny by any means but it always makes me giggle when the novelizations describe him as being absolutely jacked

[doctorsiren]

I’m literally Mob’s size (5’2, 100 lbs) and this is how it is when I use the bench press we have (except I’m not ultra-struggling, I swear)

[castielsprostate]

MEN MEN MEN MEN MEN ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT IS MEN

[anticidic]

Teen!skk again with their silly nonsense: this time Chuuya using Dazai as a way for him to lift weights

Whenever it's leg day, Chuuya will set a mat out on the floor and lie down with his legs in the air and Dazai will balance on top of his feet and Chuuya just. does leg reps with Dazai as Dazai's struggling not to laugh every time he looks down at Chuuya's face

it's taken them several times to get the position down because it actually requires a lot of balance and sometimes arm strength on Dazai's behalf if he's also steadying himself with Chuuya's hands, and Chuuya has to keep his legs up perfectly straight and feet flat to keep Dazai from falling off. but sometimes when Dazai's being a lil shit and snickering at Chuuya's face while he's intensely concentrating, Chuuya will just kick Dazai off of him and move on to doing push-ups (until Dazai comes over again and sits on Chuuya's back)

[ninyard]

the truth is that kevin sees a woman who is strong, and he is putty in her hands. melts at thick thighs. would rather a woman show off to him, than for him to show off to a woman. if she wears biker shorts he’s done for. if she ties up her hair in front of him before lifting weights, she’s going to haunt his dreams for the rest of his life.

[three-fold-symmetry]

He may need a cold shower. Because of the heat

[achiepy]

genderbent lunami I beg of you

My take on genderbent lunami

[plistommy]

Billy: Stop being a fucking pussy and lift it!

Eddie: I can’t! It’s too heavy, man!

Billy: *stomping towards Steve and lifting him up easily while Steve was washing the dishes*

Steve: Billy, what—

Billy: You wanna be able to hold him like this? Right?Then lift the fucking barbell, bitch!

Eddie: Shit, OKAY! *bench presses 50lbs*

Billy: YES!!

Steve: *still carried around by Billy*

Steve: I hate you guys

[averycutesalamander]

hello baefy….. humbly requesting 18 or 24 from that list you rbed:3 with the silly cowboy….. geheheheh

BEACH EPISODE BEACH EPISODE BEACH EPISODE !!!!! kinda did my own twist on this one :) suggestive toward the end

24: Tracing your names together in the sand.

Boothill has to admit that you have impeccable taste in vacation spots, because he's not sure he's ever seen a beach as stunning as this one. 

The water is incredibly reflective to the point that he can't see beyond the surface, which gleams like molten, glittering silver in the daylight. The sand on the beach is exceptional as well; it's white and strangely glassy, shifting colors depending on the angle he looks at it from. The view when the two of you first emerged from the treeline was fantastic – a kaleidoscope of color meeting with a sea of silver, stretching into the horizon. He's not even sure how the hell you managed to find this place, because there's not a soul in sight other than the two of you. 

Oh, but it all pales in comparison to the sheer look of awe that envelops your expression the moment you lay eyes on the scenery. 

(There's so many ways that he finds you beautiful, but there's something a bit exceptional about the way you look like this – continuously and routinely dazzled by the world around you, no matter how many other fantastical sights you've seen. His chest aches with an affection so deep and heartfelt that he swears it'll kill him, one day.)

You were tentative about this location, admittedly; his body can handle water just fine, but it forces him to replace parts more often – doubly so for salt water. Thankfully, this is a freshwater beach – which means he can get into the water with you without too much concern. The water is pleasantly cool, which lets him seal off his vents without much worry of overheating. He still sinks like a rock, granted, but the water is shallow enough that he's at no risk of accidentally drowning himself. 

It's not so shallow that he can't vanish under the surface, however; he can hold his breath quite a bit longer than a human – and what kind of man would he be if he didn't use it for nefarious purposes?

Surprisingly, visibility beneath the surface is impeccable; it's almost crystal clear aside from a faint grey hue. Naturally, this means he can see exactly where you are – but the opposite isn't true at all. He lurks beneath the water, crawling around like the horrible little goblin he is, circling you as you cluelessly marvel at the mirror-like surface above; you were so mesmerized by it when he went under that he's certain you haven't even realized he's vanished. Tiny fish dart away from him as he prowls, retreating under stones or into miniscule burrows in the sand below. 

When he gets close enough to you, he brushes his fingers against your ankle – just hard enough to be suspicious. He retreats backwards as you jump, and he grins wildly at the muffled yelp that escapes you as you spin around. 

Through the water, he hears you grumble, “Oh, that is so unfair.”

He laughs despite himself, bubbles escaping his nose; your goggles are still in your bag on the shore, which means you're practically blind. 

He only realizes his mistake when you turn right toward where he's hiding – and lunge.  

He yelps as he scrambles away, just barely dodging your seeking hands as he flees into deeper water. You fumble for a moment while the sand and water settles, then promptly give up once you've realized that he's slipped away. 

“C’mere, little sharky,” you croon, spinning slowly as you search for any sign of him. “I thought you wanted to play?” 

Oh, he'll certainly play. 

Now that he's sure he's hidden again, he resumes his gradual circling, careful not to move too quickly, lest he disturb the surface and give himself away. His hair drifts around him like a curtain of silk, and he can feel the grit of sand in his joints, but he already knows this is going to be worth it. You don't move away from the spot you're standing in, clearly trying to spot him – but he's cautious enough that he won't give anything away. Gradually, he closes in on you, his lips twitching in open amusement. 

He leans closer, ever-so-slowly, careful not to disturb the water – and then he takes a chomp at your calf, careful to angle his teeth in a way that will only scrape, but not pierce. 

You jump damn near two feet out of the water in surprise, and the cutest little shriek leaves your throat. He's honestly expecting you to move away instinctually – but you catch him off guard when you leap toward him again, faster than before. He squawks as he scuttles away again, but this time, he's too slow and too close, and your hand grabs blindly onto his ankle. 

Ah, fuck. 

He flails like a caught fish – which he supposes he is, at the moment – careful not to use too much force but earnestly trying to slip out of your grasp. You don't let him get away, splashing down halfway on top of him as you blindly fumble to get a grip on him. 

Then, he grins, wide and wicked and menacing. He braces himself on the sand and surges upwards, gathering you up in his arms and laughing triumphantly as you flail and giggle. He clenches you tight against his chest as you squirm, burying his face into the crook of your neck and chomping theatrically, noises and all – though he's careful not to catch your skin on his teeth, so he's more or less mouthing at you like a fish. 

He only lets you push him away when you start to go breathless with laughter. He pulls away, grinning down at you. “Looks like you're just chum, now.” 

You're still snickering as you ask, “Am I tasty chum, at least?”

A lascivious look crosses his eyes, and he leans down toward you and purrs, “Oh, you're delicious, baby.” 

He watches in delight as the euphemism hits you full-force, your eyes widening as you sputter. Then, he waggles his eyebrows obnoxiously, instantly breaking the atmosphere he created, and you both burst into laughter at the sheer absurdity of it all. 

“You're such a fucking dork,” you snicker, pressing your face into his chest as he turns and starts to cart you off to the shore. “I can't believe anyone thinks you're intimidating.”

“I'm plenty intimidating!” he proclaims haughtily. A moment later, he reopens his vents to let some of the heat escape; the sun is already warming him significantly, but it doesn't compare to the radiance of your smile.  

“I'm shaking in my boots,” you say dryly. “Practically quivering in fear.”

“You're just sayin' that because ya already play close to the fire, sugar,” he huffs as he sets you down on the towel you set up in the shade, settling next to you with his feet still in the sand. For effect, he snaps his teeth close to your nose, snickering at the way you jump. “Don't forget that I could burn ya.” 

You hum dismissively, still smiling widely as you lean closer. “But what if I like the heat?”

He grins, moving to meet you, his eyes hooded and tempting. “Well, that'd make ya a lil' fudgin' freak.” 

He laughs in sync with you, foolishly amused by it all. You press a quick kiss to his lips, clumsy with your snickering. You lean back, and the two of you stare at each other fondly, oblivious to the world around you. 

(He'll never get over how pretty you look like this – how your smile lights up the world like the sun. He'll do anything to see it again.)

Suddenly, you turn your gaze to the sand beside you, hunching over before beginning to drag your finger through it. For a moment, he thinks you're just idly fussing with it – but then he realizes that you're moving quite deliberately. 

Curious, he watches you work, openly befuddled. “What in the world are you doin’?”

“One sec,” you deflect, biting on your lip in concentration. Cute. After several more seconds, you look up at him, your eyes damn near sparkling. Brightly, you proclaim, “It's you!”   

He peers down at the lines in the sand, his brows furrowed. It sort of looks like a blob? Is that a… fin? Suddenly, he sees it – a cartoonish little shark, grinning widely, touting a crude version of his hat and gun. 

He bursts into laughter, hearty and earnest and so painfully endeared that it makes his chest ache. He looks over at you, and you have the dumbest, cutest fucking look on your face, so irresistible that he wants to bite you. 

“You're too cute for your own good, sweetpea,” he says, shaking his head. “‘S gonna get ya in trouble with me, one of these days.” 

You smile, rolling your eyes playfully. “Oh, no,” you drawl, long and exaggerated. “I'm so scared. Whatever will you do with me?”

His smirk widens into something devious. “I dunno,” he drawls. “Come over here and find out.”

“And fall right into your trap?” you say skeptically, raising your brows. “You're gonna have to try harder than that.”

He hums, giving you an evaluating look; then, he drops his gaze down to your cute little doodle in the sand. 

Hm… He thinks it could use some company. 

He slowly begins to trace a tiny drawing of his own, biting down on his tongue as he focuses. You watch eagerly as he scrawls, and when he's done, he looks up at you with the goofiest grin he can conjure. 

You squint, peering at the lines quizzically. “Is that… a shrimp?” 

“Yep,” he snickers boyishly. “‘Cause you're my cute lil' shrimp. Bite-sized n’ everything.”

You laugh, your eyes sparkling. “Oh, I'll show you bite-sized.”

(Hook, line, and sinker.)

Just as he hoped, you pounce on him playfully, and now you've become the devious shark, chomping obnoxiously at his jaw and cheeks like it's your life's purpose. He laughs and lets you have your fun, pushing at you with just enough force to be playful – though he does legitimately start to squirm when you begin to target the place where his skin meets his metal; he doubts that he'll ever get used to that strange dual sensation. You cling to him like a leech, though, relentless in your assault. 

Then, in one quick motion, he grabs you by the waist and flips you, grinning at the way you yelp as he pins you onto the towel. 

“Didn't have to try that hard to catch ya, huh?” he says smugly, a note of mischief in his voice. 

To his surprise, you meet him with a look twice as sly. 

“Are you sure I'm the one that got caught?” you ask, your eyes glittering with mischief.

Before he can even fully process what you've said, you clench your fist carefully in his hair, yanking him down until he meets your lips in a bruising kiss; he groans quietly into your mouth, a heated thrill of pleasure skittering up his spine. He leans further into you as you slowly comb your fingers through his hair, and he shivers when you nibble at his lip. Obediently, he lets you press your tongue slightly into his mouth, slowly tracing the sharp points of his teeth. 

All too soon, you tug him away by the roots of his hair, and he has to bite back a disgruntled whine when his lips break away from yours. 

“Say,” you begin slowly, your smile widening deviously, “I think I got some sand under my bathing suit.” With a heated look in your eyes, you lean closer, just out of reach of his lips. “Do you think you could help, honeybee?” 

He swallows heavily, caught off-guard by your intensity – but he certainly isn't opposed. 

“I'm sure I can figure somethin' out,” he rasps, raking his eyes down your body. Slowly, his fingers trace up the heated skin of your thighs, skirting closer to your hips. 

…Perhaps there are some unforeseen benefits to finding such an isolated beach. 

@opheliaflavoredinstantnoodles @ikeagroceries @shadowstadium @theswashbucklingspy @cosmo112 @fxngtasy @rinzis

[bviralmedia]

Woman drops the bar on herself while bench pressing, and man kindly helps her out