your first session goes incredibly well. izuku is attentive and gentle, willing to push you past your limits where you allow, but stopping when you ask him to and mean it.

(if you let yourself, you could easily imagine how good sex with izuku could be — but you shake those thoughts as quickly as they come.

inappropriate.)

the session is so good that you agree to partner up with him officially, setting up a schedule that works well for the both of you before parting ways.

…

you meet up a few days later and the workout goes similar to the last — fun, a little flirty, but mostly hard work, and you’re very proud of yourself by the end.

with a high five and a promise to see each other soon, you head off to the bathroom to clean up and redress, only — you forgot your water bottle.

simultaneously cursing yourself for forgetting and thanking your lucky stars for remembering before you were all the way home, you turn on your heel and begin the trek back to the now-mostly empty main gym.

the hall isn’t long, but it gives you enough time to think about izuku — about his impressive physique (arms to die for - you just know he could manhandle you around), his soft, kind eyes, and his deep voice coaching you through some difficult stretches.

it’s just a crush, you reason with yourself, and it’ll go away. eventually. you hope.

it’s just — you’ve never met a man like him before and it shocks you to your core every time you remember he’s still single.

he wouldn’t still be single if you would just shoot your shot, your traitorous mind supplies.

you physically brush off the thought as you finally emerge at the end of the hallway, but when you get there, you pause, completely taken aback.

you and izuku had finished off your workout at the weight bench which you had - to your humiliation - completely covered in your sweat. you offered to grab the cleaner and paper towels, but izuku waved you off with a sweet smile and a promise to take care of it himself.

it doesn’t seem like he did considering you’re watching him inhale at the sweaty seat of the bench, where you know you left your mark the most.

izuku doesn’t look up, doesn’t notice you standing there mouth agape. he’s too into it — eyes closed and tongue lolling out as he presses his (button, freckled) nose to where you were just sitting.

your eyes trail down, without your consent, to see how hard he is, thick cock pressing at the seam of his basketball shorts.

a thrum of heat joins the disgust coiling in your stomach, forcing a noise past your lips. you clap a hand over your mouth, but it’s too late.

izuku’s head snaps up quickly, blown pupils meeting yours, but instead of getting sheepish and embarrassed like you’d expect, his look shifts to something darker. predatory.

you stutter out some kind of apology, an explanation for why you haven’t left yet while looking around for an employee, but the gym is suddenly devoid of all other life.

(the $100 izuku slipped to the night shift worker was pocket change if it meant he could get you well and truly alone. finally.

your “missing” water bottle was safely stowed away in his bag.)

“oh, didn’t want you to catch me like that. you aren’t… afraid, are you? c’mon, let me make it up to you.”