Men (like ratio, caelus, Aventurine, and let's add brant, jiyan and harumasa frm other Fandom XP) lincluding reader in their exercises in a teasing manner (like the kiss for every sit ups, push up or planks or any other exercises)
Like either they're underneath them during the exercise or on top of them, being impressed by their strength (or they've done it so many times already s/o is just reading a book as he does his stuff)
-🍭
One Kiss Per Rep
Tags: Ratio x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Caelus x Reader, Jiyan x Reader, Brant x Reader, Harumasa x Reader, Fluff, Romance, Domestic Moments, Established Relationship, Soft Moment, Motivational Kisses, Workout Shenanigans, Training as Foreplay, Banter, Humor, Affection as Reward, Whipped Characters, Teasing, Lighthearted, Emotional Support Through Exercise, Playful Intimacy.
You were lying on the lounge chair in the observatory of your shared ship, reading a thick tome on metaphysical logic. Ratio, however, had long abandoned traditional study this afternoon in favor of what he called a “physical calibration ritual.”
You didn't expect that to involve you lying on the floor with him looming above you, arms extended in a perfect push-up form.
"That was twenty-three," he said smoothly, a smirk playing on his lips. "And, as promised..."
He leaned down, planting a soft kiss on your lips.
You blinked, speechless—again.
"Twenty-four." Push-up. Kiss.
"Veritas—" you started, only to be silenced by another kiss on the twenty-fifth rep.
"I find this method more efficient than chemical stimulants for motivation," he mused.
You sighed, tilting your head. "And what, exactly, am I? A glorified dumbbell?"
"No," he replied with mock seriousness. "You’re a reward system. Perfectly engineered to trigger oxytocin release and reinforce success. Efficient. Elegant. Undeniably enticing."
He paused at push-up thirty, locking eyes with you. "I’d do a hundred more if it meant one more kiss from you."
Despite yourself, you laughed. “You’re lucky I’m too intrigued to walk away.”
"Correction," he said, kissing you again. "I'm lucky you never do."
Aventurine was doing planks.
Not just any planks—one-armed planks on a polished marble floor, his torso gleaming faintly with sweat, and you, stretched languidly across his back like the most luxurious weighted blanket known to man.
"Keep still, sweetheart," he said through gritted teeth, flashing that signature grin. “You wobble and I fold. And if I collapse, you owe me dinner.”
“Pretty sure this counts as your punishment for bluffing about taking me on a ‘relaxing evening,’” you deadpanned, flipping the page of your book.
“Darling, you sitting on my back while I do core work is the definition of romance. Why else would I be showing off like this?”
You rolled your eyes. “What are we at now?”
“Sixty seconds… and counting.” He grunted, then added in a singsong tone: “Unless you want to make this harder for me.”
“Harder how?”
He smirked. “Slide a little forward.”
You gave a dangerous grin. “You’re insane.”
“Maybe. But I’m charming, strong, and balancing a whole library on my back. I’d say I’m worth the gamble.”
You shook your head, trying not to smile. “I’m not budging. I like this book.”
“Oh good. I like it when you're on top.”
You dropped your book on his head.
He didn’t even flinch.
The training deck of the Astral Express was quiet—save for the soft thuds of Caelus’s push-ups and your occasional page-turning.
You were seated cross-legged on a bench nearby, book open in your lap. He was on the floor beside you, bare arms flexing with every descent.
At first, you thought he was just working out. Until he shifted.
Now he was doing push-ups directly above you.
With you lying beneath him.
You stared up, stunned as he leaned down and—kiss.
“One,” he whispered, lips brushing yours.
Another push-up. Another kiss.
“Caelus,” you breathed. “You can’t be serious.”
“Dead serious,” he replied, grinning between reps. “One push-up, one promise.”
“And what promise is that?”
He lowered again, slower this time. Kiss.
“That I’ll keep choosing you. Every day. Every mission. No matter how heavy things get.”
You reached up, hand resting on his cheek.
“Even when the world’s falling apart?”
Push-up. Kiss.
“Especially then.”
You laughed softly, heart melting as he kept going, counting quietly, his voice like a steady rhythm.
Somewhere around push-up twenty, you stopped him by holding his face in your hands and kissed him.
“One kiss, one promise,” you whispered. “That I’ll never let you carry it all alone.”
He stilled.
Then smiled.
“Deal.”
The deck of the ship swayed beneath your feet, but Brant’s rhythm remained flawless. You were lying flat on your back on the wooden floor, book in hand, while your flamboyant captain (or boyfriend) hovered above you—literally—doing push-ups.
With every dip, he grinned, his face mere inches from yours.
“Thirty-four… Thirty-five… Mwah~” he whispered, punctuating each push-up with a dramatic kiss to your forehead, nose, cheek—once even the tip of your ear, which had you flinching and nearly dropping your book.
You didn’t react much at first, pretending to be deeply invested in the page before you, but your smile betrayed you.
“You know,” you murmured, without looking up, “some people train without turning it into a stage performance.”
“Darling,” Brant purred, pausing at the peak of another push-up, “every heartbeat is a drumroll. Every drop of sweat, a crescendo. And every time I kiss you like this—” he dipped again, planting another kiss, this time on your lips, “—the audience goes wild.”
You laughed softly, cheeks warm.
“I think the ‘audience’ went home hours ago.”
“Then all the better,” he said with a wink, dropping to his elbows beside you. “This scene’s exclusive. One night only. No understudies allowed.”
Jiyan didn’t believe in unnecessary distractions—except, apparently, when it came to you.
You sat cross-legged with a cup of tea, quietly watching as he performed sit-ups with mechanical precision. Every time he came up, he stopped just short of your face, eyes steady on yours.
And every time, you offered a quick kiss.
“Fifty-eight…”
Kiss.
“Fifty-nine…”
Kiss.
“Sixty…”
You paused. “Aren’t you getting tired?”
“No.”
His tone was calm, almost too calm. You narrowed your eyes.
“You’re only doing this so I’ll keep kissing you, aren’t you?”
He didn’t answer immediately—just came up for another rep, forehead nearly touching yours. You sighed, leaned in, and kissed him again.
“I knew it.”
“Incorrect,” he replied with that ever-serious expression. “I’m building endurance. You’re simply… an efficient motivator.”
Despite yourself, you smiled.
“You’re impossible.”
“Then keep testing my limits.” He smirked—yes, smirked—before resuming his sit-ups.
You were lying across the couch, engrossed in a paperback, while Harumasa planked directly above you.
Not beside you. Not in front of you.
Above you.
You are gonna use his back as a headrest laterwards.
“Still alive?” you asked without glancing up from your book.
“Wouldn’t die doing this,” he muttered, holding perfectly still, only the occasional twitch of his arms betraying any effort. “Not when I’ve got the world’s comfiest couch under me.”
“That ‘couch’ has opinions.”
“Shhh. Pillows don’t talk.”
You snorted, nudging his ribs lightly with your elbow. “You’ve been at it for five minutes. Impressive. I’m surprised you haven’t turned into a puddle yet.”
“I would,” he said, face dangerously close to yours as he shifted an inch lower, “but I figured the reward was worth it.”
“Reward?”
He tilted his head until your lips were almost touching. “A kiss per minute, wasn’t it?”
You rolled your eyes. “That’s not how this works.”
“Then I’m quitting.”
You laughed, catching him in a kiss before he could collapse. “Fine. You get one. For being a surprisingly stubborn slacker.”
He grinned lazily, resting his cheek against your forehead. “Best workout of my life.”
