Personal Trainer!Claggor x reader.
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.”
Your eyes widen at that.
