Mafia Imagines

18 - A Very Personal Trainer

TW: A creep- a very touchy touchy creep. Hints at SA and R@pe so skip this chapter if you don't like it. :)

Imagine...

"Nice work, Y/N! Keep it up!" The trainer that is being paid to teach you to protect yourself, watches you as you pound the heavy bag from the ceiling, as his eyes rake over your sweaty body, covered by a large oversized t-shirt and leggings, and not because he's making sure your form is okay, as you aggressively punch the bag in front of you.

"No, you need to hold yourself like this," He says, walking over and grabbing your hips as you swallow the bile that was rising up your throat. He repositions your, your butt rubbing over his suspiciously hard groin area, as you nod, too scared to talk. Ever since you had started training with him, he had gotten more and more touchy, but you had kept your mouth shut, thinking it was normal- that all trainers constantly fixed forms, but now, eight months later, you knew it was out of the norm- but he hadn't done anything to directly violate you, so you just brushed it off.

"Now strike again," His breath is hot on your ear, as you shiver in disgust, as you try to move out of his steel like grip, but it only grows firmer on your hips, and you know there was no way you would be able to try and get out. "Strike. Again." He growls in your ear, pressing behind you harder, as you feel more bile rise in your throat, as the hairs on your arms rise, but you strike the boxing bag again.

"Good girl~" The phrase which he tried to use to seduce you, only caused the urge to punch him that bubbled in you to rise, as your eyes flickered around the over sized gym, knowing that no one would enter- not after the lecture everyone received after you had some unwanted fans swarming around your work out equipment.

"She is, considering the fact she hasn't yet punched you." Pulling away from you, at a speed faster than light it's self, the trainer whirls around to spot your tall man, leaning against the doorframe of the gym, his arms crossed over his chest, defining his large muscles the tank top he was wearing did nothing to hide.

"Well, Sir, her form was in correct, so I was helping her fix it-"

"I suggest you stop with the bull, and start telling the truth, Mark." His voice is calm, but you sense the underlying notes of frustration as his accent mingles with the words.

"Marcus, actually-" The guy starts, slowly analysing the man who stands before you, both, as you stay back, watching the situation with cautious eyes, as you unstrap the boxing gloves which encase your sore hands, as you brush loose strands of hair off your face, "And, like I said before, we were doing boxing and her form was incorrect, so I was helping her fix it-"

"Oh really? Because every time my girl comes home from your training sessions, she's quiet, doesn't want to be touched. So I'm thinking it's a little more than you just 'fixing her form'" He mocks, as he pushes off the wall, slowly advancing towards the man, who stood his ground in front of you, but you could see the hair on the back of his neck stand up on attention, the only sign that he was scared of your oversized boyfriend, inwardly shocked that he had noticed a difference in your normal self- why hadn't he said anything? You locked away that question for later, as you boyfriend loomed over the trainer, his eyes dark.

"I'm going to ask you one last time- what are you doing with my girl?" His tone is devoid of any of the calmness it held moments ago, as the trainer tries to create some space between them.

"You're really gonna make me say it? Fine. Your girl is hot as f*ck- she's been leading me on! I mean look at her," He looks back, gesturing at your modestly covered body, but your boyfriend isn't having any of the rubbish that is being spewed out of his mouth.

"I wonder if your arse ever gets jealous of the amount of sh*t that comes out of your mouth-" He grabs the man by the collar of his white shirt bring him close. "And I should kill you right here, right now for it. I should take my pocket knife and skin your balls, then stuff it down your throat. I should get a spoon and carve your eyes right out of your eye sockets and spoon feed them to you for ever looking at my girl like that. But I won't, purely because it wasn't me you hurt. It was her. So I think I'll let her decide." Your man looks over at you, tilting his head to walk over to him, but your feet are already moving of their own accord.

"Even though I have bad form, I can still punch." You hiss, your fist striking him across the face, but as he goes to strike you back, you're pulled behind a human wall, protected from any further damage.

"I don't think so." Is all he says, as three large, burly men clamber in the room, grabbing your now most probably ex-trainer, as you watch them drag him out.

"I hope you don't mind if I fix your form now," Y/BF/N mummers into your ear, as you hug him.

"How did you realise?" You ask, ignoring his cheeky comment.

"Well, at first I thought it was your social battery just being low," he admits, tucking a stray, sweaty hair behind your ear, as he looks over your face, as if he were admiring a piece of art, smiling at you. "Then, I noticed it was always after your training sessions, so I thought maybe you were just tired..." He looks down slightly, as if ashamed. "Finally, I noticed your reluctance to go to these lesson, so I figured maybe something was going on... so here I am... why didn't you ever tell me, love?" His eyes find yours, and you can see them scanning them for an answer.

"I thought I was being silly... normally he wasn't this... touchy touchy, with me." You reply, shyly.

"No you aren't. If you ever feel slightly uncomfortable, tell me." He pleads, holding your hands in his, as his face looks over yours, as you nod in answer.

"Good girl," 

"Did you just mock him??"

"No, as your new trainer, I can say it!"

~ ~ ~ ~

Written: 11/november/2021

WOW TWO UPDATES WITHIN AN HOUR?

You are some lucky duckies!

What do we think of this chapter? It's a bit of a longer one too :)

- Outcastkido