#sleeper build

isagi yoichi

he’s already hyping himself up like “i got this. easy. she’s cute but i’ve got grip strength on my side.” 

then you take off your hoodie… and he sees the unit that is your bicep. 

you flex, and he visibly recoils. “WAIT... hold on... what the hell is that... a watermelon under your skin???” 

you grip his hand and he gasps like you just proposed. “oh my gosh, she’s strong and assertive…” 

you slam him so fast he doesn’t even blink. 

after the match, he walks away slowly. solemnly. comes back wearing a pink apron, holding a vacuum. 

“i just wanna support you. emotionally. physically. domestically. spiritually. i’ve never cleaned a bathtub before, but i’ll learn.” 

he won’t stop touching your arm. “can i... rest my face on it? like... just once?” 

you flex again. he actually moans. 

nagi seishiro

nagi only agreed because he thought you’d lose and then go, “awww you’re so strong!” 

but the moment you casually flexed and he saw that bicep swell like it had its own gravity, he was suddenly WIDE awake. 

“wait. is this a prank? is that arm CGI?” 

you start pressing down and he goes limp. doesn’t even try. 

“okay yeah, no. this is your world, i’m just respawning in it.” 

you win without breaking a sweat. 

he stands up. sighs. and walks away. comes back in a floral apron, holding a frying pan like “you want pancakes?” 

starts calling you “boss” and “queen” without irony. 

offers to carry your gym bag then just hands it back like “actually, i think it’s stronger than me.” 

mikage reo

reo, sweet delusional rich boy, thought he had the upper hand. “babe~ don’t cry when i win~” he said. 

you flexed once and he dropped his protein shake. 

“NO CUZ WHY DO YOU HAVE A BODY LIKE A STREET FIGHTER CHARACTER???” 

you beat him in three seconds and he just sat there. fully silent. hands folded like he was in a parent-teacher conference. 

then he whispered, “i’m gonna go make you a protein smoothie and file your taxes.” 

comes back in a silk apron and starts googling how to sew gym clothes. 

he’s like “do you want matching couple compression sleeves?” 

every time you walk by, he salutes. 

buys you a punching bag. writes “love you” on it with sharpie. 

karasu tabito

karasu would not shut up. 

“you sure? these arms were made by the gods themselves, baby.” 

then he saw your forearm pop out of your sleeve like a greek sculpture. man literally staggered. 

“AYO WHO LET YOU BE BUILT LIKE THAT???” 

you grabbed his hand and he squeaked. not yelled. not gasped. squeaked. 

you beat him and he just laid there on the table. face down. 

“... i’ve never been more turned on or more disrespected.” 

gets up and immediately ties an apron around his waist. “what do you want for dinner? i make a killer carbonara when i’m emotionally destroyed.” 

starts introducing you like, “this is my girl. she bench presses my hopes and dreams.” 

itoshi sae

sae didn’t think much of it. he barely looked at you before sitting down. 

“fine. let’s make it quick.” 

you took off your jacket and he glanced at your arm… then looked again. blinked twice. then stared in horrified silence. 

“why... does your bicep have a shadow of its own?” 

you start pressing down and his jaw tightens. he tries to act unaffected but his whole leg is shaking under the table. 

you win. 

he blinks slowly. sighs. comes back 10 minutes later in a black apron, holding a mop. “i vacuumed. folded the towels. made you protein brownies. do you want bath salts or should i just shut up?” 

he never admits he lost. but every time you flex, his ears turn red and he forgets what he was saying. 

itoshi rin

rin didn’t even flinch when you challenged him. he flinched when he saw your arm. 

and i mean saw, like, the hoodie came off and his eyes snapped to your bicep like it was some forbidden relic. 

he tried to act unaffected. cool. impassive. but you caught the way his hand hovered over the table like he was considering his own mortality. 

you flexed and his jaw clenched. you pressed down and he resisted... for two seconds. you won. easily. 

rin sat back, stared into space, and whispered, “i need to bulk. immediately.” 

the next time you saw him, he was in your kitchen. in an apron. stirring something in a pot. 

you were like “what are you doing?” and he just deadpanned, “... making your post-workout meal. don’t talk to me.” 

acts like he doesn’t care, but gets pissed if anyone else compliments your arms. 

you flex once and suddenly he's folding your gym clothes, cooking your macros, researching creatine dosages for couples. 

he won’t kiss you in public, but he will prep your chicken breast for the week like a loyal victorian husband. 

shidou ryusei

you knew he was going to be insane about it. 

he dared you to arm wrestle. said shit like, “i’ll let you win if you promise to kiss me after 😘” 

but the second you flexed, man sat back like “... okay what the actual fuck.” 

he full-on barked. barked. 

“yo. YO. THAT’S THE SEXIEST SHIT I’VE EVER SEEN.” 

you hadn’t even started yet. his pupils dilated like he was seeing god in the form of your bicep. 

you beat him in two seconds. he didn’t even try to fight back. 

after you win? he moans. collapses on the floor like you just shot him with a love cannon. gets up. tears off his shirt. grabs the nearest apron. 

“i’m yours. body, soul, housewife privileges. just say the word.” 

starts doing squats while washing your dishes. 

randomly flexes next to you and compares arms. "we're hot together. like, we could be a crime-fighting duo. buff babe and her bitch boy." 

he actually starts fights just to say, “don’t make me call my girlfriend, bro. her arms alone could fold you like origami.” 

kaiser michael

kaiser was running his mouth from the jump. “arm wrestle? with these dainty little fingers? c’mon, schatz, don’t humiliate yourself.” 

he was grinning. smug. dangerous. then you rolled up your sleeves. and the smirk left his face like a corrupted file. 

he actually leaned in like he was seeing an alien species. “… no wait. that’s not– what do you mean your arm has a peak?” 

you flexed and he audibly wheezed. 

tried to laugh it off like “haha okay you’ve been training i see you~” but his eyes were darting like he was looking for an exit. 

you won. effortlessly. he didn’t speak for a full minute. then slowly turned around, tied an apron over his designer clothes, and whispered, “how do you like your eggs, meine liebe?” 

he’s absolutely in his wife era after that. 

started learning how to sew. monogrammed your towels. put your protein powder in a fancy glass jar labeled “gains for goddess.” 

goes around telling people: “she may have beat me in arm wrestling, but i’m the real winner – i get to oil her biceps before bed.” 

his love language is now supportive moaning while watching you lift things. 

once told ness, “if she bench pressed me, i’d bark. straight up. no shame.”