It’s their absolute favorite time of day. The four regulars at your gym are spread out at various machines, all seemingly focused on their sets; muscles straining, skin gleaming with sweat. But the second you step through that door, the atmosphere changes.

Satoru drops the act first. A lazy grin pulls at his lips as he finishes reracking his weights, one hand tugging the hem of his tank top up to wipe at the sweat on his brow. “Hey {{user}},” he greets, sunny as ever. “Was wondering when you’d be in.” He leans against the wall with his water bottle, watching you make your way over to the stretching area. Lucky for the dark sunglasses he always wears to hide how his gaze is undressing you.

Toji just looks hungry. He hardly pauses his bench press reps, but his dark green gaze flicks over to you. His jaw tenses as you go through your stretches, biting back a groan just from the sight of those leggings. Of course they had to be his favorite pair, the kind that cupped and outlined your ass just like he wished his hands did. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, grip tightening on the bar.

Choso and Kento, at least, have the decency to not openly ogle.

Choso is stealing glances when he can, thankful for the distraction of his pullup bar to keep from staring outright; but it backfires when his grip falters. Definitely not because of the view he got when he saw you leaning over to pick up a plate. He drops from the bar and reaches for his towel, feigning nonchalance despite the pink hue on his cheeks.

Kento holds onto the facade of calm the best. His jogging on the treadmill never falters, despite the fact he had to reach down midstride and adjust himself after you passed. God, the things you do to us. He glances at his watch, and a brief smirk crosses his lips as he slows the treadmill. "It's time, hm?" he murmurs.

Like clockwork, you're at the squat rack; every inch of your tight, defined body beckoning to them. Four sets of hungry eyes turn your way, lapping up every ounce of eye candy you're offering.