You got a gym membership for the new year and enlisted his help and guidance with working out.
After a few weeks of teasing him, he can’t take anymore.
“I’m not one of those creepy guys that stalks you in the gym and then corners you into forcing your number into my phone. I don’t do that, I’m very professional. But you…” He takes a deep breath. “You’re making it hard for me to be professional.” He gulps. You trail your fingers up his bicep, sensually running your fingernails up and onto his shoulder to grip. “Then don’t be professional, Claggor.” You plead, giving him your best doe eyes.
“Goddamit,” he breathes, looking away from your face. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, pondering the repercussions of him fucking you.
“Fuck it.” He says, head turning to stare into your eyes. His are like fire, pupils swallowing the now dark stormy grey. “But remember, you asked for this. Won’t be my fault if you’re sore in the morning.” “Sore?” You shoot back. “What makes you so confident?” He smirks. “I’m big sweetheart. Probably bigger than any cock you’ve ever taken.”
Hey guys! I’m trying out something new with an actual character and not just yoongi lol! I wanna write for more ppl when I open my asks back up and this is the experiment fic! This is meant for a black reader but anyone can read it if they wish! This is also a modern AU Claggor. Also happy 50 followers omg!! I’ll open my asks soon for a bash!
Hope you all enjoy!
In spirit of “getting your summer body,” you decided to find a personal trainer. Good gyms are hard to come by in the undercity, most of them being filled with obnoxious gym bros or creeps who stare at you in the mirror. You knew working out at home wasn’t an option either, due to a busy schedule and procrastination. So personal training was the only way to go for you, tripling as protection from creeps, someone to hold you accountable to your routine, and a way for you to actually work out.
That’s how you found Claggor, a quick search of “personal trainers Undercity” on instagram, and after sorting through three creepy accounts, you stumbled upon his. Legit bio, no creepy vibes, and god was he ripped. You scroll down, coming across a video of him shirtless, deadlifting. His arms were like canons—chords of muscle rippling under his skin whenever he lifted the bar over his collarbones. You could see the strain of his thick neck and even thicker torso, the faint outline of an eight pack becoming present whenever he breathed in heavily.
Now that’s not the only reason why you chose him—he had a good website, great reviews, and great work ethic…but his physique did a little more persuasion for you than anything else.
You signed up on his website, filling out a form of what areas you wanted to target, your former experience, and what days/times you were available. Within the next week, you had a message from him letting you know that he got your form and wanted to meet at the Last Drop Cafe, which happened to be right below his gym.
You go to meet him next day, and to your delight, he’s legit. He meets you at the door, black compression shirt and gray sweatpants that make a little drool escape from your lips.
“Y/N, right? It’s nice to meet you, I’m Claggor.” He offers his hand to shake, a bright, gentle smile spread across his face reaching all the way to the crinkle of his eyes. You take his hand in yours, shaking earnestly and matching his smile. “Hi! It’s nice to meet you!”
"Why don't we head inside? I've got a table waiting for the both of us." He motions behind him and inside the cafe. When you look inside, you can see a cozy table near the entrance, a laptop and notepad ready beside a steaming mug of liquid. "Sounds good to me, let’s go!" You grin.
He leads you inside--takes out a chair for you to sit across from him-- and when you do, his pushes it in. He's so close when he pushes in your chair--you can smell whatever woody cologne he's picked for the day. It makes you throb with need.
"Did you want anything to drink or eat before we get started?" He asks, reaching for a pair of glasses sitting next to the notepad. He puts them on, the frames sitting on the tip of his nose so he can look at you over them. "Umm, no, I think I'm okay. Thank you for asking though!" You decline politely. "Alright then, let's get started." He looks down to his computer, clicking an ink pen and then looking back up to you.
You've decided that he is in fact very hot with those damn glasses on.
"I see in your form that you have Monday, Wednesday and Thursdays from 11AM-2PM. Are those still good times for you?" "Yes, they are!" "Okay great," He starts to type on the laptop, taking some brief time to also write down whatever he typed. “Did you have any specific areas you wanted to target?” “Oh, I’m just looking to tone everything, find my workout rhythm, things like that.” “I see, well we can definitely do that,” He gives you a once over, seemingly puzzled at your answer. He quickly shakes it off though, meeting your eyes again with a quick smile. “Let me finish up my notes and I’ll see you Monday!”
After he’s all finished with all his management stuff, he’s kind enough to walk you out of the cafe—even all the way to your car door!
“Alright, call me if you have any questions or need to add anything else to what I already have. See ya Monday!”
You wave him off, but after that, your mind was cloudy with him the whole drive home.
His scent, the nearness of him, the little glint in his eye whenever he looked up at you.
It did something to you. But you didn’t know what. Not yet.
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