#Body Massage Kingston

[masseurrsvp]

Book your Salt Float Therapy relaxing escape today.

Salt Float Therapy London-based male masseur focused on tantric massage, I invite you to begin a unique and transformative journey of self-exploration. Through the ancient techniques of tantra, I strive to create a sacred space where you can let go of inhibitions and unite with your inner self. Tailored To Your Unique Needs And Desires, Assuring A Deeply Bespoke Experience. Whether You’re New To…

[himbos-hotline]

original prompt list by @magicalbuttertarts [i have permission to use]

➤ Rules [I guess]:

pick a prompt from the list below

pick a wrestling ship [list of ships I write are here] [unsure I'll write a ship, shoot it in the comments] (will not write stickpage- sorry)

send to my askbox [anons are on]

since its a smut prompt list, no Bucks [i am not getting into the buckest argument again, im too old my guys]

Taken requests are crossed out

Can request as many as you want with all any ships that you want, just do it on different asks

Fics will be completed in a random order alongside other requests/fics

Prompt lists MUST be filled by the middle/end of September as I am running this instead of kinktober

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

➤ Vanilla:

Heavy kissing/Heavy makeout -> KennyMatt

Dryhumping/clothed sex -> junglehook

Oral sex -> Hangkenny

Sex

Doggy style

Rimming

With toys

Multiple Partners -> House of Black

Trying a new position -> Hangkenny

Anal sex

Phone sex/Video sex -> Golden lovers

Masturbation

Face sitting -> adamjf

Mutual masturbation -> Adam Cole/Roddy Strong

Requesters choice

────── 〔✿〕──────

➤ Romantic:

Extensive talking during foreplay/Sex -> Adam Cole/Roddy Strong

Body worship -> Adamjf

Suprise visit during Work/Job/Ect -> Eddie Kingston/Jon Moxley

Overly romantic gestures -> KennyMatt

Romantic lighting/Decore -> Kenny omega/ Adam Cole

Romantic music during sex

Taking a trip

Massage

First "I love you" -> Toni storm/Mairah may

Slow sex -> Hangkenny

Heavy eye contact -> Roman reigns/seth rollins

Spooning -> golden cowboys

Hand holding during sex -> Kyle O'reilly/ Adam Cole

Requests choice

────── 〔✿〕──────

➤ Goofy

Dared to have sex -> toni storm/Mariah may

Laughing during sex-> Shawn micheals/triple h

With food-> Excaliber/William Regal

In costumes

Giggly sex -> Hookhausen

Comical roleplay

Oral sex under the kitchen table -> poly!BCC

lapdance/Strip tease -> Adamjf

Watching porn and making fun of the scene -> Evil uno/Stu grayson

Distracting the other person with sex -> Hangkenny

Ridiculous dirty talk in public -> adamjf

Finding out partner writes smut and acting out their favourite story

Sexting gone wrong -> junglehook

Birthday sex

Requesters choice

────── 〔✿〕──────

➤ Hardcore:

Rough sex ->Roman Reigns/Seth Rollins

Cumplay -> Kyle O'reilly/Mariah May

Intense roleplay -> Skategoat

Pegging/Strap on -> Nickcole

Sloppy, dirty sex

Breathplay -> HangMox

Double penetration

Cock/Vagina worship [specify please]

Object penetration -> Golden Lovers

Squirting -> Adam squared

Face fucking -> moxmatt

Requesters choice

────── 〔✿〕──────

➤ Kinky:

Painplay -> Skategoat

Exhibitionism -> skategoat

Sensory deprevation -> Hangnick

Extreme bondage -> Julia Hart/Skye Blue

Dom/Sub -> Hangmox [Sub mox]

Knife play ->Brody King/Darby allin

Humiliation -> skategoat

Orgasm denial -> kyle o'reilly/Mariah may: Dom Mariah

Gags -> Hangmatt

Begging -> Brody King/Darby allin

Aftercare -> Skategoat

Safeword use -> golden lovers

Requesters choice

────── 〔✿〕──────

➤ Situational

Elevator sex -> Junglecoprse: The EVPantor [read this in doctor doofensmerts voice pls]

Work sex

Knowing someone can hear -> adamjf

At a movie theatre

In a restaurant -> Orangehook

Against a wall

In a car

Public transport

Shower sex -> Sami Zayn/Finn Balor

Outdoors

In front of a mirror

Holiday sex [requesters choice]

At a partners parents house

In a bathtub -> Hook/darby Allin/jack perry

Requesters choice

[ceexb]

Hobie Head cannons of him in Jamaica

Summary: Hobies gf who left Jamaica when she was younger to London.(Hobie has a black Jamaican girlfriend that takes him to the islands.)

Word count: 1,080

Parings: Hobie and black reader.

Warnings:-minors dni

Afab reader

mentions of weed language,smut,bitting,fingering and kissing.

(I’m American born,so I’ll give my knowledge as best as I can. also it’s a stereotype that all Jamaicans smoke weed which obv isn’t true and just a generalization)

Reblog 😋😗 and like

Master list

-Upon learning that you plan to bring him to Jamaica to meet your family and explore the country, Hobie's excitement soared, and he eagerly asked about the departure date.

-Given that Hobies from the UK where there is a significant Jamaican population, Hobie has some familiarity with Jamaican culture.

-“so when we leaving baby” jumping up and down

-“next week” you say

-he’ll be rushing to his room to pack the most sluttiest outfits that accentuate his skinny waist.

- I don't think Hobie would even consider taking the plane to get there,because he has a boat that he can use to travel across the seas.

- However, you get seasick and your afraid of the ocean.So you would prefer to take the plane instead.

-you guys would spend like the first days of the trip in a villa and the second half visiting family and showing him around parishes in Jamaica.

-you would take him to like the country side

-not the touristy Kingston side where a lot of the up town and yt folks be at.

-I mean the country with Goats,modest homes and mango trees,Homes nestled on the hillsides of the mountains.

-like he deff would be one with nature behind your childhood home,easily bonding with your uncles like their old acquaintances.

-he’ll be listening to some reggae (maybe some cronix x 🤭🫡)

and smoking some good ganja and chopping sugar cane.

-You will approach him from the rear entrance, carrying the fruit that your mother had prepared for him and instructed you to bring.

-Although you intended to check on him, you observe him settling in comfortably and making himself feel at home.

-you walk up to an even more chill hobie,eyes low and red just in his swimming trunks .

-His shirt buttons loose revealing his abs with his lips sucking on some sugar cane.

-watching as the juice drips down his chin but him quickly catching it with his tongue making slurp noises.

-it’ll probably give you flash backs from previous nights when you were making out back of your legs hitting the bed and pushed to lay under him only later to be quivering in a puddle of your own mess and his head diving back between dem thighs as you grip and pull on his wicks.

“Fuck..hobie it feels soo good”

“Yeah I bet it does” and he lifts his head up to peer at you then down to leave bites on the skin of your inner thighs that will leave bruises for the next days of the trip….

(woooh 🫢😋 I’m going feral by the thought)

-Y’all know that little river raft trip that people go on in Jamaica ?

-yeahhh you guys would go on one of those but knowing hobie he wouldn’t let a random, massage and touch on your body.

-It's like the experience where individuals embark on a small raft crafted from bamboo, bound together with ropes, enjoying the serene atmosphere as you drift along a river. And During this journey,you receive massages and feel the soothing vibes.

-If you were to partake in such an adventure with Hobie, he wouldn't allow just anyone to massage and touch your body randomly.

-…”And they basically do like massages”

“🤨Touching on my girl? Ina bathing suit ??

yeahh nah I’ll do it”

(He’s possessive but In a non toxic attractive way)

-He’d take the lotion staring at the guy side eyeing him the whole time.

-As he kneels down and begins applying pressure with squeezing motions onto the various layers of your muscles.

-Then there's the guy, who awkwardly stands there staring 🧍🏿‍♂️🏞️

-Hobes, being the effortlessly cool type, possesses the ability to seamlessly blend in regardless of the country he finds himself in; he can easily adjust and adapt.

-hes more of a yardie than you,speaking better patois and shit.

-And Having a fluent convo with your family

-"How did you become so fluent in Patois, babe? I didn't even teach you. It's even better than mine."

-Given his personality, he would likely wear a cocky smirk, shrug casually, and lean back in the white party chair, with his hands behind his head.

"It's just a natural instinct. better start practicing," he would say, pointing jokingly to a "Patois for Dummies" book as you stomp away in response.

(Idk if that book exists but oh well🤷🏾‍♀️)

-yo, I could just imagine you guys in the personal pool of a villa getting nasty in the pool then kissing all the way to the bed,water dripping messing up the floor of the room and hobie falling needy on top of you,panting impatiently slipping your panties to the side to finger you.

-Then the next day acting like nothing happened.

- Once you bring him to your childhood home, both of you would be exhausted from a long day of driving from the villa,so you would go straight to sleep upon arrival.

- The next morning, you would wake up alone in a bed,putting on a robe, and making your way to the kitchen. In the kitchen around the corner,you would hear the faint sound of laughter and the voices of your mother and him.

- I have a strong feeling that your mother would adore him, especially when in the kitchen together.

- I have confidence in his cooking skills; I can already envision him preparing a bowl of peanut porridge.

-He’ll be like “I think they like me 😗”

-“Yeah a little bit too much” murmuring under your breath jealous

“huh what was that” he goes.

his hand on the shell of his ear hearing what you said just wanting you to repeat it. so he can rub it in.

-“Nothing. hmm”

Arms crossed stopping off again

-“Don’t be jealous love,cause your parents love me more…!”

Yelling as you walk away.

-then after days of exploring you guys being driven to the airport and his mom kissing him on both checks wishing him to come back to visit next time.

“Come back soon alright?”

————-//—————-//————-//—————//————//———-//————//————-///————//———-//———-///————-//———-///———-//——///

(I really hate this post ,but it’s been sitting in my drafts for far too long)

[daddyhausen]

ooo how about some daddy!trent headcanons? if youre still accepting requests :)

• daddy headcannons — trent beretta •

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ masterlist } | { aew masterlist } | { trent beretta masterlist }

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ warnings } — 18 + { minors do not interact }

{ word count } — 218

{ pairing } — fem!reader x trent beretta

{ genre } — smut

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ taglist } — @stxrrlightwrites13 @boutmachines @thewrestlingbitch @omg-im-such-a-masochist @baysexuality @legit9thlunaticwarrior @slut4kennyomega @wardlow @alexisquinnlee-bc @sammiejane22 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @omegasluvbot @melissahausen @writtingrose @drummergrl1310 @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @baybay-boom @bonehead-playz @cherrytheeredheadmamaclaymore @crowleysqueenofhell @romanreigns-supreme @janetreader @eddie-kingstons-wifey @thenerdybaker523 @sunshinevirus @nicoleveno14 @rubyred1980

{ comment if you want to be added to the taglist }

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

he’s really sweet and gentle

maybe a bit too overprotective at times but he can’t help that

although he’s not above giving you a stern warning or two if need be

most nights you’ll cling to him

desperate for his warmth and touch

all of which he is happily to provide

you couldn't help but feel so incredibly small in comparison to him, size wise

in public he’ll keep you close

a hand wrapped around your waist at all times

making sure others know that it was indeed him who you belonged to

when it comes to sex, he makes sure you never have to even lift a finger

you’re his princess after all, you should not have to do any work

more times than not you become shy under his gaze

especially with your skin bare of clothing

not that it deters him the slightest

it gives him an opportunity to reassure you

to worship and toy with your body has he sees fit

he babies you, not necessarily infantilising you

more or less it’s protective

he’ll do small things to help lower your guard momentarily

allowing you to take comfort in him

he’ll play with your hair, softly massaging your scalp

or caress you body, holding it close to his, almost afraid to let you go

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

[duskholland]

Crash Into You || Tom Holland Smut

ice hockey!tom x figure skater!reader — smut.

summary ↠ you can’t stand the ice hockey team. they’re loud, brutish, and incredibly annoying. it’s just inconvenient that you can’t seem to stop running into their star player, an irritatingly suave man called tom, nor deny the way your pulse quickens every time he’s around...   word count ↠ 20.2k. warnings ↠ mild depictions of sport-related injury including blood and nose breakage, a lot of bad language, some jealousy, and nsfw smut material! extended smut warnings are beneath the cut, but this is 18+ !!! minors dni.   a/n ↠ it’s funny because I tell myself I don’t like sport aus, yet this is somehow one of my favourite things that I’ve ever written...? the au is kinda ~obscure~ I guess, but it checked so many of my boxes whilst writing it, and I had a great time. it’s also the longest thing I’ve ever posted?! ahh !! I hope you’ll like dutchy, and give this a go even if you’re not really into hockey <3   —↠ there are so many different people that helped me out with this!!! in addition to all the wonderful anons that sent in ideas last month, I want to extend a huge thank you to @geminiparkers @tetralea @hollandharrison @honeyspidey @stixnstripesworld and @uglypastels for each helping out in some way, whether that be through brainstorming ideas, making incredible art, or teaching me about hockey and/or skating! <3<3 also—the biggest thank you ever to the lovely sammy @t-holland2080 for not disowning me after editing this for me and seeing my basic spelling errors lmfao. ily <3 hope you all enjoy !!

extra !! @uglypastels made two beautiful pieces of fanart for tom aka dutchy — you can view these here + here !!! @softholand​ also made an absolutely incredible moodboard based off the fic, and you can view that here :’) thank you to both of them for using their amazing artistic talents on this fic + making me literally like. the happiest writer on the planet :’) 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

extended smut warnings ↠ two sections of smut. this is a certified Horny Warmy™️ (thanks chlo for that category) so it’s very gentle, very wholesome. includes oral and fingering (fem-receiving) and protected MxF sex :’)

✧ *:･ﾟCrash Into You ･ﾟ:*✧

“Why are they always so noisy? How hard can it be to hit a bit of plastic?”

You laugh quietly, glancing at your friend, Yelena. She’s staring out across the rink, hands resting on the plastic barrier that lines the perimeter with irritation in her icy blue eyes. A warming blush tickles the apples of her cheeks, and it softens the expression of frustration that she wears so well.

“Seriously,” she adds. “Listen to them… It’s so… unpleasant.”

Your teeth catch your lower lip as you bring your gaze away from Yelena and instead onto the object of her anger: the hockey team.

Your eyes zip around the rink, watching as the players run through yet another drill. The team—Kingston Kites—, 20 in full, 7 currently on the ice, crash around the arena like a cyclone of a thousand moving calamitous parts. For the last few months, the practice rink at your sports centre has been closed, which has led to the pre-existing rivalry between the hockey team and your own team of figure skaters deepening. There have been arguments between your managers and theirs about which team gets priority over the exhibition rink. What’s emerged has been a bitter taste in the air. Simply put: the figure skating team dislikes the ice hockey team, and the feeling is mutual.

“I dunno,” you mutter. “I guess it means they’re working hard.”

The noises are rather distracting. You watch as the blurry figures, shrouded in the team colours of white, green, and orange, line up and take shot after shot at the small net on the ice. After each attempted shot on goal, the players have a tendency to release loud grunts and exclamations of exertion, and they echo around the empty arena. Whilst you agree with Yelena that the noises are irritating, a small part of you also admires their commitment.

“Perhaps.” Yelena steps back from the side and starts to stretch her arms. You do the same. There’s a fifteen-minute overlap in the scheduled slots on ice when the figure skating team uses half the rink to warm up as the hockey team uses the other to cool down. After the fifteen minutes play out, the Zamboni skims out the cuts in the rink, and the hockey team finally leaves you alone. It’s not ideal to share the rink, but every second you can spend practising helps. “I can’t stand them.”

You smile softly, slowly rotating your right arm as you warm up the muscles. “I know,” you agree. “You always complain about them.”

She scowls, eyes glistening with fierce irritation. “Because they’re annoying. So dramatic and messy.”

“Mmm, well, I don’t think they’re very fond of us either,” you respond. You bend over, slowly rubbing your fingers over the bandage you have wrapped around your right ankle. “Did you hear about Jenna and Lou in the gym last week?”

“No. What happened?”

You sit down on the cool floor of the arena, thankful for the many layers you’re wearing. As you slowly start to massage your ankle, you glance up at your friend.

“They got interrupted by a couple of the guys. Uh, Osterfield and Barrett? They wanted to do a weights competition or something.”

Yelena scoffs. “Losers.”

You smirk. “They won, though. Lou and Jen. Apparently, the guys stormed out. Couldn’t take getting beaten by a couple of skaters.”

Your friend cackles then offers you a hand up. You grunt as you stand and steady yourself, glancing down at your skates and checking the laces. A loud buzzer goes off, and you hear a few yells of disgruntlement come off the ice as the players realise it’s the end of their solo practice and the start of your turn on the rink too.

“Can’t wait to get out there,” Yelena murmurs, eyes sparkling. You nod in agreement and crack your knuckles in anticipation.

Together, you walk over to the small gate in the side of the rink, joining the line with the rest of your team. Ten of you make up the competitive figure skating team, and all of you wear varying articles of black, thermal clothing. You’re in a pair of leggings, a long-sleeved thermal shirt, and a loose burgundy t-shirt, drifting over the top. The cold doesn’t bother you as much as it used to, but that’s only through the years you’ve spent gliding around at sub-zero temperatures.

You sigh happily as you inhale a breath of the frozen air that hangs crispy above the rink. You step onto the ice, closing your eyes as you skate forwards, your body supported effortlessly by the skates you wear so well.

There’s a line of bright red cones set out across the middle of the ice, sectioning off the hockey players from the rest of you. You smile to yourself as you risk a glance across the rink and take stock of a few of the players, huddled together, grunting and exchanging low words of irritation. They look very funny, wearing various layers of thick padding and helmets—less formal than they’d be at a match, but still dressed up enough to mean business. You feel them staring at you, glaring and bemoaning the fact they have to share the rink, but you let it brush off you like water.

“Y/N! Show me your cannonball. Weren’t you working on it?” Yelena’s back, skimming to rest beside you, plaited blonde hair hanging in two bunches either side of her face. You nod, pushing off and checking the ice is clear ahead of you before skating into a space.

Nothing beats the rush of adrenaline that comes with skating. You think that you’re addicted to it now. The charge of the nervous build-up, followed by the relief of the payoff never gets old. Your fears of failure get swept away the moment you sink into the ultra-focused headspace of an athlete, and the buzz of reward you get every time you land a move perfectly trumps the blood, sweat and tears that such an unforgiving sport has taken from you. You wouldn’t be able to quit skating, even if you wanted to.

A cannonball sit spin is one of the hardest spins in your repertoire, and the element that has been giving you the most grief in your show routine. This season, you’re competing in the national circuit for solo ice dance. It’s not your first time taking on the competition—in fact, consistently over the last few years, you’ve been ranking higher each time you compete. Last year you finished third, and so this year, your eyes are fixed very firmly on the prize. You know securing first place in the competition will attract the Olympic scouts’ attention, and that’s your greatest dream.

Moving quickly, you skate in a brief semi-circle to build momentum before getting low, resting on one leg as you stretch the other out in front of you. Your hands curve around the ankle of your extended leg, and you use the energy to carry you into a spin, the fresh air wafting off the ice and cooling your cheeks. It carries out for a few seconds, then you have to concentrate as you exit the manoeuvre, brows creasing as you continue to turn. You end in a standing spin, arms held out as you slowly bring them back into your sides and end elegantly with a little bow.

Yelena claps, cheering from across the ice. “Fuck, Y/N, that looks perfect now,” she calls out. “Wouldn’t ever be able to tell that it was causing you trouble— oh, look out!”

Your eyes are only just beginning to widen in response to her concern when you feel a very strong figure slam into you, hurtling at top speed and taking you both down onto the ice. You don’t need to see anything beyond a flash of white, orange and green to know that it’s a fucking hockey player, and the ache of getting thrown to the hard ground is quickly overcome by the anger that replaces everything else.

“Oh, shit,” you hear a gruff voice say.

You groan as you try to sit up, opening your eyes just to see that the player is crumpled on top of you. Your chest feels heavy from where he’s laying sprawled over you, and you glance down to look at his face, a scowl holding tight over your features.

Despite the helmet and the visor sticking over the top of his face, you’re able to make out a few details of the man. He seems to be around your age, his skin pale but flushed warm from the cold and such a vigorous practice. The brown depths of his eyes swell with concern and guilt, pairing nicely with the regretful smile that pangs across his thin pink lips. You get a peek at his brown hair sticking out from beneath his helmet, and can’t quite stop your eyes from catching on the hard line of his impressive jaw.

“You idiot,” you mutter, shaking off the daze that comes with admiring such a handsome stranger. “Did you even look where you were going before deciding you were going to try and kill me?”

The man’s eyebrows shoot up, his expression of concern burning into irritation as he scowls at you.

“Fucking hell,” he replies. His accent twangs prominently, cool and unyielding. “It was an accident, darling.”

You grunt, rapidly scooting back across the ice the moment he’s clambered off you. He sits across from you, brushing at the pads on his knees as he stares at you remorsefully. You can’t tell if he’s pouting at you or the shards of ice messing up his knees.

“An accident is brushing into someone, not slamming them onto the ice,” you mutter. Bitterness sweeps into your voice. “Twat.”

“Alright, alright.” He throws his hands into the air and leans closer. “I’m sorry. Okay?”

You draw your lips into a tight-lipped frown and look away, ignoring him as you try to stand, only to end up wincing as pain shoots up your bad ankle. “Fuck,” you whisper, your irritation growing stronger as you try to rotate your foot and feel the pain thicken.

Opposite you, the man clambers to his feet, getting his bearings on his skates before begrudgingly sliding up you. Your eyes take in his figure, running the lines of his stocky form. It’s always hard to tell what the guys look like beneath the padding and the helmets, but he doesn’t look as tall as you’d expected when he was laying on top of you. He’s smaller than the rest of them, but you have a suspicion he can probably move remarkably fast. How else would he have been able to take you out so easily?

He offers you a gloved hand, staring at you through cold eyes. “C’mon,” he urges, when you do nothing but stare at his palm. “Let me help you up. It’s the least I can do.”

You eye him suspiciously, but you know you won’t be able to get up without some assistance. A brief glance at your team around you suggests they’re all watching your exchange, intrigued. So, you swallow your pride, grit your teeth, and slip your hand into his glove, digging your skates into the ice as he helps you back to your feet. A short hiss of pain falls through your lips as your ankle throbs. When your leg threatens to buckle, the man moves in closer and grabs at your waist.

“Woah!” he exclaims, holding you up. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you mutter, trying to steady yourself, “no thanks to you.”

You hear him release an exasperated sigh, and he lets you shake yourself free, but his hand drifts down to pull at your arm and hold you back when you try to skate off.

“What do you want?” you snap, tension in your voice. Beneath the visor, you can make out the guilt dusting his face, but you’re too focused on your recurring injury to pay it much mind.

“I’m sorry,” he tries. “I am.”

You pull your arm free again, and you hear a few hoots drift over from the other side of the rink. The word Dutchy rises louder, and you watch his expression twitch with irritation.

“Whatever,” you reply. You skate backwards, moving away from him, only relaxing when you feel one of your friends link her arm with yours. “Just forget about it.”

The hockey player looks as though he wants to argue with you, but when you harden your glare, he seems to let it go. He shoots you a very tight-lipped smile, mouth puffing a little with air, and then he picks up the discarded hockey stick and skates back to the other side of the rink. Your eyes briefly flutter over the bright text of Holland before he disappears, being enveloped back into the fold of raucous players as you sink into your friend’s side.

“Are you okay?” she whispers, touch far gentler than his had been.

You grimace, looking down at your ankle. “Yeah,” you reply, frowning sourly. Your eyes lift up across the rink, and you let yourself scowl. “Just pissed off.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

Following the incident, and an incredibly bad skating practise, you find yourself reprimanded by your coach and put on bed rest for a few days so you can rest your ankle. It’s hard not to blame the distracted hockey player, but you know you probably had it coming. You’ve been walking the knife’s edge for several weeks with your injury, and as much as you hate to admit it, the time off is necessary.

The moment you’re allowed back on the ice, you’re there in a heartbeat. The training arena also operates as a commercial venue, and there are different slots available during the day for the general public to skate. After receiving the thumbs up from the team physiotherapist, you immediately turn up to one of the open slots available to the public, hoping to brush up on a few things before you rejoin your team in the morning.

For the first ten minutes of your practice, things go well. Your ankle is better for a few days off, and you’re able to sink back into your routine and get back to focusing on the gnarly parts that always throw you in a loop. It isn't too busy either, so there’s room to skate around and feel the air running over your face. It’s easy to get lost in it, your chest full of a lightness you’d spent the last few days bed-bound and dreaming of.

You take a break to drink some water after a while, leaning up against the barrier at the edge of the rink and bending over it to rummage through your bag. When you feel a presence behind you, you stand up, glancing back expecting to see a stranger, and feeling your eyes widen as instead, you recognise the man.

He looks very different without the shoulder pads and the rest of his ridiculous costume, but it’s him: Holland, the hockey player responsible for your skating ban. Still tall, and perched on hockey skates, but more relaxed. Like you, he’s wrapped up warmly, with a tight black thermal shirt curled around his arms, and another t-shirt resting over the top. His brown hair flies freely, bouncy and slightly curled, and his eyes are soft.

“Hi,” he says, biting at his thin lower lip. “Do you remember me?”

You frown as you skate to be in front of him, nodding slowly. “The guy that smashed me into the ice the other day?” you tease, voice cool. “Of course. How could I ever forget?”

You watch as his face darkens in shade, his eyes flickering down to your leg. “I’m, uh, Tom,” he leads with. “I saw you skating and I just wanted to see how you were doing… I haven’t seen you at practice in a few days, and I was, uh… sort of worried I’d seriously hurt you.”

Tom looks at you like he’s scared of you, and you have to bite back a smile as you wonder if you were too harsh on him the other day.

“Hmm.” You cross your arms over your chest and inspect him, gaze following how pronounced his biceps look, pushing up against his shirt. “Well, I was benched for a week.”

He curses softly, accented voice sounding out of place speaking such vulgarity.

“I’m sorry,” Tom says. He looks as though he means it, too. Shoulders sagged, eyes concerned, lower lip bitten red. “I promise, love, it wasn’t intentional. If I could go back in time and stop myself from behaving like such an inconsiderate twat, I would.”

You giggle slightly, unable to disguise the glee that comes with hearing him call himself a twat. You watch as his eyebrows arch up, confusion replacing his sincerity as he slowly crosses his arms over his chest. You’re still irritated by the situation, but you’re no longer incensed. It’s hard to harbour a grudge whilst he’s pouting so acutely.

“Well, Tom, I forgive you,” you say, voice lighter. He releases a deep breath, and you nod to affirm your point. “I’m Y/N, by the way.” Instinctively, you offer him a hand and find a shiver rolling down your back as his warm palm presses up against yours. Tom’s grip is firm and grounding, and his skin is a lot softer than you’d expected.

“Y/N is a nice name,” he says, voice perkier. His eyes seem more alive, and you don’t miss the way he takes in your form with an inquisitive gaze.

Your lips twist into a smirk. “I’ve already forgiven you, you can turn off the charm now.”

Tom shrugs, eyes glinting cheekily. “It’s not charm, darling,” he returns. “This is just who I am.” It seems to be true, too. He’s a lot bolder now the air between you has cleared, no longer looking like he wants to melt through the ice.

You snort loudly and feel your heart quicken when he smiles. “Well, Tom, what are you doing here?” You quirk an eyebrow. “Don’t you guys practice in the mornings?”

“Yeah,” Tom agrees. He breaks off as he looks over his shoulder and waves a hand at the near-deserted ice. “Coach said I need to work on my sprints, though, and it’s a lot easier to do that without the rest of the team hanging around.”

“Makes sense,” you say, deviously deciding you want to see how far you can push him. “You hockey guys are always so slow on the ice.”

Tom’s jaw drops, and you watch as he straightens up and stands a little taller. He meets the challenge directly, and you can’t deny it—it’s attractive. The way he squares his jaw, flares his nostrils and hardens his gaze is hot.

“Fuck you,” he says, voice light, “I’m definitely faster than you.”

You smirk. “As if,” you quip. You raise a hand, twirling a finger around in the lazy direction of the centre of the rink. “Show me what you’ve got. I might give you some pointers if I’m feeling nice.”

Tom releases a very loud laugh, the skin by his eyes crinkling into fine lines. “You’re hilarious, love,” he responds. “Like a figure skater is going to be able to teach me anything of importance.”

It’s your turn to laugh, and you cross your arms as you stand a little straighter. “That’s bold talk from someone who doesn’t look where he’s going,” you tease. You run a hand through your hair, eyeing him closely. “I could easily beat you in any skating-related activity, and I wouldn’t even break a sweat.”

Tom tilts his head to the side, seeming to feed into the idea of a challenge just as much as you. There’s something about him that fires you up the right way—a shared competitiveness that burns as brightly in you as it clearly does in him. It overpowers everything else, taking over, enticing you into letting go of any residual resentment and embracing the chance to beat him.

“How about we put your bragging to the test, darling?” he suggests, tongue tracing his lower lip. His eyes flutter around the curves of your mouth. “A few races, just to see who’s really better.”

You don’t hesitate to nod. “Sure, Tom,” you agree. “But don’t be too pissy when I beat you.”

There’s something endearingly irritating about how confident he is as he smirks at you and leans forward to briefly rest a hand on your shoulder. “Same to you, Y/N,” he responds. “I know it’s annoying to lose.”

You just shake your head, scoffing as you push away from him and move down to the end of the rink. He follows you, coming to a stop on his chunky skates beside you.

“First one to the other side wins,” you announce, reaching back to rest a hand on the barrier. You tilt your head and stare at him until he does the same. “Ready?”

“Mhmm.”

“3, 2, 1, go!”

It’s slightly ridiculous how badly you want to beat him, but there’s just something so infuriating about Tom. Your competitiveness burns in your chest, makes your blood boil and your hands clench into fists, and you find your eyes zeroing in on the opposite side of the rink as tunnel-vision encroaches. You block him and everything else out, your desire to win taking over as you swiftly launch across the ice, skates clipping the surface with metallic sounds as you sprint it. You don’t break—you don’t give up, slow down, or even turn back until you’re slamming into the barrier at the other side, turning around just in time to see Tom come in behind you, lagging about a second behind.

“Shit,” Tom mutters, grimacing.

You smirk. “Told you I’d beat you.”

Tom pulls a sour face, and it makes you giggle. “Best of three?” he offers. “C’mon, Y/N.” His elbow nudges against your side. “I’m still warming up.”

“Alright,” you agree. “But for the record, I still won.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Tom mutters, shooting you a sly smile. “Just you wait.”

You win best of three skating forwards, but Tom manages to snag a victory when it comes to speed skating backwards. You can’t take the smirk of triumph on his face, so you offer up a third competition, yearning to prove yourself.

“Can you do an axel?” you ask. Your eyes drift down to his heavy hockey skates. “Or are your boots too chunky and annoying?”

Tom’s face twitches with doubt, but he’s quick to smooth it away. “Fuck yeah,” he states boldly. “I can do anything you can do.” If he doubts the truth of his words, he doesn’t let it show. “Just, uh… Show me how you do it first.”

You have the suspicion he can’t remember what an axel is, so you decide to oblige him.

“Alright,” you agree, boosting away from him. His eyes follow you, and their presence on your figure brings a hidden smile to your face. “Watch this.”

You perform the trick easily. An axel is the simplest of all the jumps, and it gives you no bother to glide forwards, leap into the air, do a swift, neat turn, then land on your back foot gracefully. You could probably do it with your eyes closed.

“There!” you announce, smile on your face.

Tom gulps nervously.

“Easy,” he says, voice slightly quieter. You cross your arms and watch, incredibly amused, to see how far he’ll take his act before giving up. Tom skates forward, confident in his movements, eyes focused, eyebrows furrowed. He takes his time, failing to do anything beyond skating in a straight line before he suddenly, jerkily, attempts the trick.

Time moves in slow motion. It’s with a combination of glee and horror that you watch him fail spectacularly, doing a rotation of approximately 180 degrees before slipping on the return to the rink and landing flat on the ice, groaning loudly. The few of the people sharing the rink with you look around, concerned, and you’re quick to skate over to him, biting your lip guiltily.

“Well,” you say, stopping in front of him. Tom’s still on the ice, arms crossed, glaring angrily at his skates. “I admire you for trying.”

His attention shifts up to you, and his scowl intensifies. “Whatever,” he mumbles. There’s an element of amusement in his eyes, and he takes your hand when you extend it out towards him. Tom’s heavy, but he springs up easily, his fingers tangled in yours and jerking you a little closer. “That was way harder than it looked.”

You hum, and then gulp as he drops your hand. He’s near to you, breath crystallising into a cloud of icy fog in front of you. Your eyes glide over the spray of brown freckles on his face before skimming down the curved line of his nose until you can admire his mouth.

“Well, it is a sport,” you say, voice a little tight. You clear your throat, shaking yourself from your funk as you realise you’re just staring at his lips. “Just like… Like hockey is a sport. I know we make fun of it, but I doubt me or anyone else on the team could play like you guys do.”

Tom seems to enjoy the praise, standing with a little more confidence as you finish speaking. He nods, then brings two slender fingers up to nimbly scratch at his chin.

“Have you ever tried it?” he asks.

“Not properly.”

Tom smirks. “Well, we need to change that. Go down the end, I’ll grab a net.”

You don’t know how he manages to convince the supervisors of the free skate to let the two of you set up an attack zone in the end segment of the rink, but you don’t question it. The sight of Tom reappearing, haphazardly balancing a net, a hockey stick, and a puck in his arms makes you smile, and you briefly think about how easy it's been for your resentment to melt away. There’s something about him that’s incredibly warm, and you don’t dispute the realisation that he’d probably make a good friend.

“Right,” Tom announces. He’s set up the net and shown you how to hold the plastic stick. Now, both of you are staring at the puck, black and stark against the scratched white ice. “Just hit it.”

You glance up at him, sceptical. “Surely there’s more to it than that.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t know what I’m working with until I see you take a hit at it, darling.”

You nod. The stick feels unfamiliar between your hands, but you’re determined to make a better show of it than Tom when he tried to do the axel. After staring at the small open area of the net, you grit your teeth and hit it, watching with widening eyes as the puck soars wide out to the left.

Tom cackles.

“Well… That was an attempt,” he says. His grin doesn’t falter at all, even when you turn around to glare at him.

“Teach me, then,” you quip, scrunching up your nose playfully.

Tom hums, and you watch as he briefly skates away after the puck. You can’t stop yourself from staring at him as he bends over, the bottom of his shirt briefly riding up and exposing the printed band of his boxers. The words Calvin Klein burn into the back of your eyes, still lingering there as he turns and skates back to you. You blink rapidly, shame burning at your face as you try to look more like you’re focused, and less like you can’t stop your eyes from gravitating towards his figure.

He drops the puck back on the ice, just in front of your stick. “Your angle was wrong,” Tom says. “Show me your hands again.” When you do as instructed, he frowns and shakes his head. “No, it’s… It’s more like, your top hand higher, and the lower more angled… Uh… No, no, no. Can I just touch you?”

“Okay,” you squeak, standing a little straighter.

Tom skates forward, resting behind you. He doesn’t hesitate to carefully wrap his arms around you from behind, slender fingers curling over your hands and repositioning them on the stick. You feel like you’ve been electrified—eyes wide, skin responding to his touch. His breath, warm and minty, wafts across the side of your face, and you realise you’re holding your breath.

“Yeah...just like that,” he coos, voice a little softer. He squeezes your hands before letting them go. “Give it another go.”

You swallow back your nerves as you nod, waiting until Tom’s drifted back to hit the puck. You can’t stop yourself from smiling when it goes sailing into the back of the net, and Tom lets out a loud hoot.

“Fuck yeah!” he exclaims, laughing gleefully. “Look at that!”

You glance back at him, enjoying the expression of pride that finds his features. “Pretty good, right?” you say, playing it cool.

“Spectacular, darling.” Tom’s nodding, face alight. “Let’s step it up a notch.”

He brings you through a few drills, and you find yourself enjoying the game despite your early blunder. Before you know it, there’s the sound of a buzzer ringing, signalling that there are five minutes left of your session together. Tom rises to the challenge, announcing that he wants to end by watching you skate at the goal and shoot a point whilst moving. You fail at your first three attempts, unable to coordinate moving the stick, the puck and yourself without something going askew.

“Show me again,” you whine, growing conscious of the timer ticking down.

Tom skates closer, gliding easily with his hands behind his back. His thin lips wear his smirk well.

“Just visualise it, darling,” he says. “Believe in yourself, and you’ll do it.” He pauses, eyes skimming over you. “I believe in you.”

You nod. “Okay.”

“Follow my line in.”

Tom skates backwards, beckoning you forwards with outstretched hands and a smile like you’re a toddler he’s teaching to walk. He leads your attack, mapping out your path before shifting out of the way just in time for you to successfully skate and hit the puck into the back of the net. His expression clears into relief, but as you start to celebrate, it’s quick to fall flat. You watch, eyes widening, as Tom gets distracted by you and drifts backwards into the goal, skates getting tangled in the netting. You lunge forward to try and catch him, only to make the situation a thousand times worse as you crash into him, grabbing at his shirt just as he manages to steady himself.

It feels like a cruel trick of fate. A repetition of the past, just, instead of Tom tackling you to the ground, it’s you that manages to slam him back onto the ice. It’s more comfortable this time around, though. For you. Tom’s chest is a lot warmer and softer than the ice.

“Fuck,” Tom groans. His face twists into an aching expression, then his eyes slowly blink open. As you make contact with his brown orbs, you’re surprised to see amusement shift across them. “Oh, how the tables have turned.”

You snort, taking stock of how muscly his front feels. You’re sprawled out completely over him, face suspended above his, Tom’s palms holding your waist. It’s intimate, especially when he reaches up with one hand and pushes your hair from your face so he can peer at you better. You can’t stop your eyes from going straight to his lips.

“S-sorry,” you stammer, voice breathless. You admire the way his hair is spread out around his head, bold against the ice like a halo. “I don’t know what happened.”

“‘S okay.” Tom’s quieter too. His gaze circles quickly between your eyes and your mouth. There’s something cockier about him, and you know the way you’re clinging to the front of his shirt has something to do with it. “I think you fell for me. Again.”

He’s leaning in. You start to do it, too, even go as far as to let your eyes drift close. He gets so close that you can almost feel the warm outline of his lips, brushing against yours, but then there’s the loud noise of a buzzer vibrating through the air. As the sound dies, it serves to signal the end of such a tender moment, as well as the end of the session.

You startle and push off him as you shoot him an apologetic grin.

“Sorry,” you say. You’re shaking a little, but you hope he puts it down to shock. You manage to clamber up and offer him your hands.

Tom accepts your help, and he groans as you help him up.

“It’s fine, Y/N,” he says, pausing to shake out his legs and slide forward. He swings your palms through the air, squeezing at your fingers as he very gently twirls you beneath his arm, then moves in nearer. “Accidents happen. I’m not surprised you wanted to be on top of me.”

All you can do is laugh and hope Tom can’t tell how he makes the base thrumming of your heart pick up.

“As if,” you return. You glance down at your intertwined fingers and feel your heart pang. “A hockey player? I could never.”

Tom just smiles, then squeezes your hands before letting them slip from his grasp. “Yeah, yeah,” he murmurs. He nudges your shoulder then shifts away, off in the direction of the net. “You know there’s no one that could give you as good a time as me.” He’s joking—it’s obvious in the cadence of his voice, the smile on his face. But why does it feel so layered?

“Ha ha,” you respond, skating over to him. When you notice him struggling, you dart forward and grab the net, slinging it over a shoulder. You glance back, arching an eyebrow as you decide to test the water. “I have had fun, though,” you add. “With you.”

Tom tilts his head to the side, ruffling up his hair with a hand. His smile lights up his entire face.

“Me too.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

Almost a week passes, and though you don’t see Tom again, he’s certainly on your mind. You find yourself thinking about him all too much, considering he’s a hockey player, and it goes against the team ethos you’ve been surrounded by.

One day, after practice, you end up sitting on a bench outside the rink, waiting on Yelena as she finishes talking with one of your coaches. Bored and curious, you pull out your phone and decide to open Instagram. All around the arena are banners advertising the hockey team’s social media, and you find yourself drawn to the official account with a few easy taps. You start to scroll through the feed, eager eyes skimming over every face until you find the one you’re looking for.

It’s Tom, from last season, clutching the victory trophy in his hands as he’s held on his team’s shoulders. His face is animated, pulled wide in a large grin as he stares at the camera, the skin by his eyes pulled into smile lines. He’s tagged in it, so, curious, you click through and look at his profile. Unsurprisingly, it’s set to public, and you’re careful as you scroll down.

His photos are exactly what you’d expect—a collection of team photos, action shots, and gym selfies. Typical hockey player, but the longer you spend staring at one of his selfies, the cuter he seems to get. Trying to shake yourself out of the daze, you scroll back up, thumb absently wandering over to his Following list. Your eyes widen as you see your profile, at the very top of the accounts.

Tom follows you…?

Brows furrowing, you flip onto your own account, double-checking this new fact by typing out his username in your followers tab. He pops up, at the top, and you sit back, blinking.

Interesting.

After taking a brief moment to compose yourself, you go back to his profile and follow him. You start to flick through his story from the day. You get about halfway through when a shadow casts over your figure. You glance up, expecting to see Yelena, only to startle when it’s Tom.

“Hi,” he offers, raising a hand in greeting. You blink a few times in quick succession, glancing between your phone which shows a mirror selfie from him shirtless in the gym to where he’s now standing in front of you, burgundy hoodie on, flask in hand. You immediately turn your phone off.

“Oh, u-uh, hi,” you say, voice suddenly thick. He tilts his head to the side, an amused smile finding his lips as he sees you flustered. “What… What are you doing here?”

“I was in the gym,” he says, telling you information you already know. “Saw you down here on my way out, thought I’d say hi.” He rocks back on his feet, looking a little nervous. “I, uh… Keep thinking about last week. On the ice.”

“Oh?” Tom nods. He hesitates, and you realise he’s just awkwardly standing in front of you. “Wait,” you say, shuffling up the bench. “Sit.”

He perches on the wooden slats beside you, offering you his flask. “It’s hot chocolate,” he says, cheeks blushing slightly.

“After the gym?” you return, arching a brow.

Tom smiles. “Fuck yeah,” he says, pressing the flask into your hand. “It’s good, trust me. And, uh, I don’t have any germs or anything. I think.”

You snort, clicking the top open as you look at him over the brim. “Well, I wouldn’t mind catching anything from you,” you say, speaking before you have time to process the words.

Tom’s eyebrows soar up his forehead, a short chuckle leaving his lips as you hide your embarrassment behind the metal flask. The burn of revealing such a humiliating thought is quickly soothed away as you taste the deliciously sweet liquid.

“Well?” Tom coaxes, stretching an arm up as he scratches the back of his neck. His hoodie smells of fresh fabric conditioner. “Good, eh?”

Begrudgingly, you nod. “Yeah,” you say, shooting him a soft smile. Trying to move on the conversation, you return to what he’d said before sitting down. “Uh, what was that you said? About last week?”

Tom nods, seeming a little less apprehensive now to speak to you after your enthusiastic praise. “I was just thinking about how fun it was to skate around with you. It sort of made me regret not getting your number, darling.”

Your lips twitch slightly. “You can have my number if you want, Tom,” you say, speaking softly. His eyes are so pretty up close. “And I’d be down doing it again. I’m free every Wednesday afternoon.”

He nods his head, curls bouncing from the enthusiasm. You pass him back the flask, carefully angling your phone away from him as you unlock it, quickly exit from Instagram, then open up contacts. You watch him input his number, tongue between his lips as his brows furrow. He curses softly as he messes up the numbers and has to backspace a few times, and you have to focus hard on not letting your face betray how cute you find the whole interaction.

He’s cute.

“There you go,” Tom says, passing your phone back. He stands from the bench, tilting the flask towards you. “I’ve gotta go,” he adds. “Carpool. But, uh… See you tomorrow?”

You nod, biting back your smile. “Yeah,” you agree. “Sounds good.”

Before he leaves, Tom darts down to gently kiss your cheek, his lips lingering there for a moment before he springs back and walks away, waving as he goes. As his broad smile fades from sight, you find your hand drifting up, going to your cheek and touching the spot which tingles with the remnants of his kiss.

Swallowing back your nerves, you return your attention to your phone. You open your contact, clicking on Tom and opening up a text message. After a brief moment of contemplation, you decide to play it safe.

Y/N: hey x

A moment later, the notification changes from delivered to read, and the typing bubbles pop up. You shift on the bench, holding your breath.

Tom: hi xx

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

A few weeks pass, and it becomes a habit.

Despite already spending most of your days on the ice, you carve out another hour every Wednesday afternoon and dedicate it to Tom. Over time, he teaches you hockey, and you continue to give him pointers on his skating. After a while, you even manage to coach him through a jump. It’s easy with him. There are no expectations, no routines you need to nail. All you have to focus on when you’re with Tom is having fun—and also trying not to fall too deeply into the reserves of his deep brown eyes. Tom feels like a breath of fresh air—if the air also happens to be loaded full of charm, cheek, and wear an irresistible smile.

Halfway through the hockey league, you end up at the arena on a Saturday night, staying late with the rest of the figure skating team. Your competitive season begins in two weeks, so the team is in for outfit fittings, everyone split across the changing rooms at the arena. You’re competing solo this year, which grants you the rare position of having the freedom to design your dress—a privilege you’ve had a lot of fun with.

“It’s beautiful,” you gasp. “I can’t believe how nice it looks.”

You’re staring at a clothes mannequin, wearing the costume you’d spent hours conceptualising with the team’s designers. It’s a shade of red that perfectly compliments your skin, accented with silver and gold detailing in a beautiful pattern over the front. Gems glimmer and sparkle, and you can’t stop your eyes from tearing up as you look at an object of such beauty.

“Do you like it?” Standing beside the masterpiece, eyes nervous, is Jazzy, the lead costume designer. When you clasp your hands together and nod, she releases a deep sigh of relief. “Thank goodness,” she murmurs. “Let’s get you in it and start marking out the alterations.”

You feel a little bit like a doll, standing on a raised platform as you pull on your costume, but it’s worth the reward of seeing yourself in the dress. After slipping into it, you pull your hair back and pin it sloppily, so you’re able to admire the ensemble fully. You’re in tights, matched to your skin tone, and the tops of your thighs are covered by the red material. It floats down, and you run your fingertips over the hem of the velvety skirt as a smile finds your lips.

“Stunning,” Jazzy compliments. She passes you a tube of lipstick. “Try that one.”

You carefully smooth the shade over your lips, noting with enjoyment how the hue matches the bodice of the dress. As you stare at your reflection in the mirror, you release a breath. When you have your face painted and your hair done properly, you’ll look the part, and clinging to the image of what you’ll look like on competition days is enough to steady some of the nerves. Even if you mess up your routine, you’ll do it looking like you deserve to be there.

“I love it,” you say, releasing a breath. You reach up and pull your hair free, running a hand through it and ruffling it, so it sits normally. You do a small spin, smiling as the material drifts around the top of your legs. “You did an incredible job. Thank you so much.”

“Thank you for wearing it so well,” she returns, winking. “Let’s get a few more opinions.”

It isn’t long before the changing room is swarmed with the rest of your team, each one of them wearing garments in various stages of completion. The men are here too—four of them, combining with the five other women and yourself, bringing your team up to an even ten. Each season, your team puts forward various combinations of skaters for the duet, team, and solo events. You’re one of the only skaters competing solo this year—a decision your coach had made as she decided she wants no distractions for you as you try to reach Olympic level. The only other member of your team in a similar position is Tai, your lean, incredibly friendly male counterpart.

Tai saunters across the room, running a hand through his thick black hair. His outfit is deep purple and shimmery, and you wiggle your eyebrows as he does a little spin.

“Pretty sick, right?” he says, shaking a sleeve at you. “I look like Dionysus.”

“So cool,” you compliment. You do a small spin too, smiling widely. “What do you think?”

“Stunning,” Tai returns. He nods to affirm his point. “You’re going to kill it, Y/N. This is your year.”

You smile nervously. “I hope so,” you reply. You take a tight breath. “I really hope so.”

Before the conversation can continue, there’s the slamming of a door opening, followed by an approaching wall of noise—men, talking loudly, a few of them hollering. You raise an eyebrow towards Tai, who scowls.

“Saturday night,” he says. “The team are in the playoffs.”

“Wait, is it a home game?”

Tai nods. “Starts in twenty,” he says. His frown intensifies. “They’re so loud. Idiots.”

You watch from your position on the dressing podium as flashes of white, green and orange pass by the open door. It’s the hockey team, alongside their coaches and their managers. They walk determinedly in the direction of the hockey changing room where you presume they’re going for a pre-game pep talk. You can’t stop yourself from scanning the crowds, looking for Tom. When you fail to seek him out, you feel your heart pang sadly in your chest.

“Y/N?” Tai’s looking at you, amused. “Are you okay?”

You swallow, then nod. “Yeah,” you mutter. “Just tired.”

He hums, eyes wide and sympathetic. “Me too. It’s been a busy week, hasn’t it?”

It’s easy to agree. At this point in the season, with so few weeks to go before the competition begins, you’re at the rink every day.

“Absolutely.”

You stifle a yawn. Your eyes flutter back across the changing room, and you see your tired sentiments seem to be shared by the rest of the team. As they slowly start to leave the room, it grows quieter. Tai drifts away, lingering in the corner and talking with Jazzy and Yelena. It isn’t long until you’re the only four people remaining. You spend a few moments taking photos of your fit in the mirror, trying to get in all the angles so you can send them to your family and fuel their excitement about the season. Your actions are interrupted only when there’s a tender knock on the door, and you glance up towards the entrance to see a bulky, padded figure. Tom.

“Uh, hello? The hockey room is across the corridor,” Yelena says, crossing her arms over her chest.

Tom isn’t in his helmet, but he is perched tall on his skates. You’re able to watch as his face twitches with annoyance. He offers a tight smile to Yelena before glancing straight at you, raising a teasing brow.

Chest feeling tight, you step forward, padding quietly towards the door. Your friends are all looking at you, but you’re more preoccupied with Tom and the way his eyes seem to glint as they take you in your form. There’s a small swagger to your step as you watch him shift from leg to leg, his cheeks warm and red, eyes full of appreciation as they stick on the curves of your hips, chest, and then your lips. Your suit is tight, and it brings you enjoyment to watch him admire you. He clears his throat as you fall to a stop in front of him.

“Hey,” you say, voice quiet, perplexed. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have a game?”

Tom nods. “Yeah,” he says. His tone is darker, and it catches slightly. “I, uh… I wanted to see you.”

You bite your lip, standing a little straighter. “Oh.” You can’t stop yourself from smiling. “Well… Do you like it?” You toy with the hem of your skirt. “It’s my outfit for the competition circuit.”

“Give me a spin, darling.”

You oblige him, feeling slightly giddy as you do yet another rotation. You hear him hum, and when you fall to a stop in front of him again, you’re closer.

“Beautiful.” Tom rubs together his hands, slender fingers gloveless and unaffected by the imminent game. He rocks back on his skates, clicking his tongue as he looks a little apprehensive. “I, uh… I was thinking about what you said last week about never going to a hockey game before.” He pauses to dig through one of his deep pockets, pulling out a few pieces of paper. He offers them to you tentatively. “If you want, I have some spare tickets for tonight’s game. Pretty good seats. My family normally use them, but they’re busy tonight, so…?”

It’s with a mix of shock and gratitude that you nod your head immediately, reaching out to take the tickets. “I’d love to, Tom,” you murmur. “Thank you.”

He grins, face lighting up. “Perfect,” he returns. “Maybe you’ll be my lucky charm.”

Your teeth graze your lower lip, and you smile. “I hope so.”

Tom opens his mouth as if to say more, but then there’s a holler from further down the corridor.

“Dutchy! Five minutes! Hurry up!”

He grimaces, rolling his eyes. “Well, that’s me.”

“Dutchy?” you question.

Tom shrugs, then turns around and extends his thumb over his back to gesture at his jersey. “Holland,” he says. He turns back to look at you, grinning. “Just a nickname.”

You coo. “That’s cute.”

Tom licks his lip. “‘S not the only thing that’s cute.” You barely have time to respond before he’s leaning forward to quickly kiss your cheek. “Have fun!” he says, already on his way down the corridor.

“Good luck!” you return. You can almost feel the ghost of his touch, resting on your face so perfectly.

Tom turns, right at the end of the corridor, and he winks. You don’t realise how tightly you’re holding yourself until he disappears, and your lovestruck muscles unravel.

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

It’s hard to explain to Tai and Yelena the relationship you have with Tom, so you just give up after a while. They accompany you to the arena. You manage to change your dress for something more casual, deciding to keep the red lipstick on. Tom’s seats are at the end of the rink, positioned mid-way up the stands. They give you a clear view across the ice.

The atmosphere is electric. You’re surrounded by the home crowd, decked out in replica jerseys, printed scarves, and hats that have Kingston Kites printed all over them. It’s a sea of white, green, and orange, and you can’t stop yourself from slipping out during the first break to buy yourself a scarf—just to support the team, and Tom. The teasing you receive from your friends when you reappear is hard to ignore but mellows out when you procure a bag of Maltesers you’d also bought from the stand.

And Tom… Tom.

Tom’s incredible. You can’t keep your eyes off him. The silhouette of his padded figure feels like it’s burnt to your memory. When he’s on the ice, he’s magnificent, commanding the space well, grunting and spinning as he plays. When he’s waiting for his turn on the bench with his team, he’s focused and calm. His eyes are sharp and intense, glinting almost black beneath the harsh rink lighting as they follow the puck across the ice. You find yourself admiring everything about him—watching the way his cheeks are flushed a rosy red, his jawline sharp and fierce. He’s on fire, passion rolling off every part of him, and, quite honestly, it’s incredibly attractive.

Tom’s explained the basic rules of hockey to you a few times, but there’s a stark difference between him telling you, quietly, how line rotations work and actually seeing them in action on a scale like this. The players swap out every minute, only staying on the ice for a short burst of energy as they chase the puck around. Tom, holding the loose position of centre forward, goes wherever needed, carving up the ice like it’s his one task in life. You’re high in the stands, but even from so far, you’re able to see the determination and the passion burning in his eyes.

The game is brutal. By the time it reaches the third and final twenty-minute segment, the score is tied 2-2. You watch, on tenterhooks, as Tom jumps the barrier on the side of the rink, swapping in for one of the players and taking his spot on the ice.

He’s antsy, as are the rest of the team. You know it’s an important match, and if they want a chance at continuing to the next stage of the competition, they need the result to swing in their favour. Your eyes are wide, fingers curled into fists as you watch Tom cut up the ice. The helmet on his head protects his skull, but you can make out a few strands of dark brown hair sticking out, and you find yourself struck with the very prominent and aching thought that you’d quite like to play with it.

The puck ends up at your end of the rink, and the Kingston Kites take on a defensive strategy as their opponents try to put pressure on the goalie and get in another shot. You find your eyes trained directly on Tom and startle as you catch him looking up at you. Through panting breaths, his lips quirk into a brief, tight smile of recognition, but then it sours as his eyes slip beside you and look at Tai. Your friend is sitting to your right, his arm loosely wrapped around your shoulders, and you’re casually leaning into his side. It’s entirely platonic, but you don’t miss the way Tom’s eyebrows shoot up as his gaze hardens and his jaw sets with determination.

The whole interaction lasts less than a second, but as Tom refocuses on the game and hurtles after the puck, he seems more aggravated. You sit forward, gaining a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach as you shrug off Tai and stare at Tom. Your eyes follow him as he goes in hard, trying to wrestle the puck out from beneath his opponent’s stick. It looks to be a bit of a mess, and you hear everyone in your section gasp as Tom roughly elbows the other guy. He goes spinning with a yelp, and the referee blows on the whistle, pausing the game. There are a few yells of ‘Dutchy’, coupled with disgruntled hollering from the people around you as they question the referee’s decision to pause.

“Fucking hell,” Yelena murmurs, leaning forward on her elbows and staring across the ice. “Your guy is crazy.”

You suck in a breath, watching as the referee points at the penalty box and Tom stomps towards it. You can almost see the frustrated steam pouring from his ears.

“He’s… passionate.” You bite your lip. Somehow, you feel responsible for his outburst.

“Shit,” Tai mutters. He too leans forward, until all three of you are sitting there, elbows on your knees, staring at the penalty box. “That’s kind of hot.”

Your throat feels dry as you watch Tom throw his stick on the ground of the penalty box. Given all the walls are made of plastic, you have an unobstructed view as he pulls off his helmet and tosses it on a seat too. He marches a few paces up and down, speaking angrily to himself, his expression one of pure irritation. When he finally sits down, he runs a gloved hand through his hair, pushing away the sweaty strands that stick so deliciously to the top of his flushed forehead. You watch, your breath light and shallow, as Tom jerks off the glove and shoves his fingers into his mouth, pulling out his mouthguard before picking up a bottle and squirting a long stream of water into his open mouth.

“Fuck,” you murmur, eyes transfixed. There’s a heat in the pit of your stomach, building as you take in the way Tom’s glowing with a mix of exertion and anger. The match is continuing back on the ice, but you can’t stop looking at the hot flush of his cheeks and the angry lines of his flexed brows and curved jaw. “It is.”

A minute passes, and Tom slowly seems to chill out. It’s only as the seconds fall down into the 30s that he finally seems to release his tension, fixing his mouthguard, and his glove before glancing up at the stands. You’re surprised when, again, he looks directly at you, his entire demeanour shifting when he sees the concern in your eyes. His features soften, lips losing their angry frown and mellowing into a warmer smile, and you watch as his gaze grows fonder.

Yelena hits at your knee immediately. “He’s in love with you,” she announces, certainty in her voice.

You can’t stop looking at Tom, not even when he breaks contact with a wink and shoves his helmet back on.

“Shut up,” you murmur. “He’s not. We’re just friends.”

Tai cackles. “Fuck off,” he says. “Yelena’s right. Friends don’t look at each other like that.”

You sit up, glaring at him. “Like what?”

He smirks. “Like you want to jump each other.”

It’s hard to dispute that one, so instead, you just cross your arms over your chest and stare back at the ice. “You’re wrong, but okay.”

Yelena nudges your side. “There’s only one way to find out.”

“Hmm?”

“Stay behind after the match and ask him.”

You swallow nervously, briefly looking at her. “But what if you’re wrong?”

“I’m not,” she promises. “But… If I am, I’ll let you style my hair for the rest of the season.”

Your eyes light up, and the way that Yelena smirks, you can tell she knows the offer is too good to refuse.

“Fine,” you agree. Your eyes shift back to Tom, watching as he vaults back over the barrier and joins his team. Apparently they’ve forgiven him for the penalty, as he’s welcomed back with firm pats on the back, and you can see his blinding smile from across the rink. “I’ll do it.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

The Kingston Kites win the match, and the arena is quick to empty. You part ways with your friends as they head home and you end up wandering the changing rooms as you try to hype yourself up. There’s a text from Tom waiting on your phone, simply asking how you’d liked the game, so you respond and tell him that you’d much rather go over it in person. After agreeing to meet him outside his locker room, it’s just a waiting game.

You reapply your lipstick and mess around with your hair to kill the time. It’s a little eerie being alone in the skating changing rooms, and as time passes, you hear fewer people hovering around the arena as the players slowly leave the building. It’s hard not to get stuck in your head as you think about your plan to confess your feelings, so you end up pacing in the long corridor that winds between the skating changing rooms and the hockey locker room.

The corridor is bright white and decorated with various sporting memorabilia. Autographed jerseys, shining medals, and printed photographs hang framed on the walls. On your side of the corridor, you catch glimpses of yourself, wearing a tracksuit and hugging your friends, showing off your medals, mid-action on the ice… It makes you proud to see that your team has placed you so frequently in the collage, and you feel a swell of bittersweet gratitude in your chest as you look at snapshots of competitions gone by.

On the other side of the corridor is a similar spread for the hockey team. You stroke at your chin as you examine this season’s photos, skimming your eyes over the group shot and trying to spot the people that you know. When you see Tom, dead centre, grinning widely, it makes you smile.

“—I’m just saying, Dutch, something was going on with you tonight. It can’t happen again. We can’t have you losing focus at this stage in the competition.”

The sound of a gruff voice drifting up the corridor makes you startle, and you glance down to see two figures emerging from the locker room—Tom, and one of his coaches. Tom has traded his gear for a pair of blue jeans and a loose black hoodie, and you watch as he nods and looks at his coach with wide-eyed respect.

“Of course, Spike,” he responds, voice clear, open. “It won’t.”

You watch as Spike sighs, then gives Tom a hearty pat on the shoulder. “Good lad.” He walks back, then makes the okay sign with his fingers. “Your final goal was phenomenal, though. More of that next game, and less time in the penalty box. Got it?”

“Yes, coach.”

“Good. See you tomorrow.”

Tom grunts and the two separate. You watch as he tugs on the front strings of his backpack before turning, his face lighting up as he spots you, leaning against the wall. He quickly strides towards you, footsteps echoing against the cold passage.

“Hey,” Tom calls out, voice bouncing down the hall.

There’s an uncontrollable smile on your face as you stand up and walk to meet him halfway. Tom instinctively wraps you in a hug, lips catching on your cheek when he pulls away.

“Hi,” you reply, voice shy. Tom smells of shower gel and mint, his curls a little damp and darker than usual. “Congrats on the win.”

Tom smirks, nodding as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Thanks, love. Did you enjoy it?”

You release a short laugh. If enjoyment equates to found it incredibly erotic, then, of course, the answer is,

“Yes. Loved it.” You tilt your head to the side, eyes narrowing. “Did you get in trouble for the penalty box?”

He winces, grimacing at you with his teeth glinting. “A bit,” he admits. “Doesn’t matter though, ‘cos I scored a goal after. I just need to, um… Not do it again.”

The air between you is thicker, and you find yourself swallowing as you note the way Tom’s looking at you, eyes hungry.

“What happened?” You say, testing the waters tentatively. “You seemed fine, and then you got… Fired up.”

Tom swallows. “I… Just got tetchy.” He clears his throat. “Who, uh… Who were you at the match with?”

You smirk, realising that your hypothesis was right. “My friends. Yelena and Tai. They’re on the team with me.”

“Friends?” Tom confirms, expression perking up.

“Yeah. Friends.”

He steps closer. “Did they like the game?” he asks.

“Yeah. They thought you were hot.”

Tom chuckles, briefly glancing at the floor before drawing his eyes back to you. They linger on your lips, and your breath hitches as he tentatively, testingly reaches out and places his hands on your hips. When you sink into it, he grows bolder, pulling you closer until your faces are near. You love the way his hands feel as they rest on your waist.

“Did you?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you think I was hot?”

It’s hard to concentrate when Tom’s standing so close to you, looking at you with his eyes so intense, but somehow you manage to wrap your arms around his neck and nod. “Yeah,” you admit. You toy with his curls, giving them a short tug when he groans enjoyably. “I always think you’re hot.”

Tom wears his smirk so well that it’s almost infuriating.

“Do you want to know a secret?” he asks, fingers softly caressing your sides. When you squeak out a noise of affirmation, Tom lets his nose brush up against yours. He swallows deeply, nervousness mixing with his teasing. “I think you’re stunning, too. All the time, but especially tonight, when you were sitting up there, wearing a team scarf and watching me play.”

“Oh,” you murmur. It’s hard to maintain eye contact with him when there’s so much going on in the depths of his gaze that it dizzies you. “Thank you.” Growing a little bolder, you let your fingers glide up, tangling in the ends of his hair. “It was fun watching you play. You’re really talented, Tom.”

His nose is still cold against yours, and you let your eyes fall shut as he slowly traces patterns over your sides.

“Thanks, darling.”

Instinctively, and embarrassingly, you feel a shiver roll down your spine as the pet name falls from his lips. Usually, you’d be able to play it off from the cold, or like you’re stretching a muscle, but he’s holding you so close that you’re sure he felt it.

“Tom,” you say, voice hushed. You feel safe in his arms, you feel loved in his arms, but your skin is still crawling with built-up desire. There’s an ache in your chest that burns brighter with each second he lingers so close, but yet remains so far. “Do you want to…”

“What, sweetheart?”

Again, your breath catches. You hear Tom release a small chuckle, and then, after a final moment, his lips fill in the small gap between you both. You sink into it immediately, heart rejoicing as his lips, warm and slightly chapped, explore your own.

It’s a little fumbly, and it takes a few moments for you to learn the slopes of his face so intimately, but once you’ve both readjusted and altered your positions, it’s quick to heat up. Tom’s fingers grip your waist tighter, mouth pressing to yours with more hunger as you wind your fingers into his hair and sigh. Between gasped breaths and soft sounds of enjoyment, you feel him slip his tongue along your lower lip, and so you open your mouth a little wider.

You end up against the cool brick wall, making out like you’re both teenagers again. The exhilarating butterflies twirling in your stomach match the memories, too. You moan softly as Tom pulls away from your mouth, his attention shifting to your neck. As you tilt your head to the side and open up your throat to him, you whimper as you feel his lips drag over your exposed skin. He nibbles and suckles until he finds the sensitive part that makes you cry out.

“Fuck,” you whimper. You tug on his air-dried curls, coaxing him back up to your lips so you can enjoy the feeling of his mouth on yours. Tom sighs, and you can feel him smiling into it.

There are noises, coming from further down the hall, and when they increase in volume, Tom reluctantly pulls back from your mouth. He links your hands together and swings them through the air, looking up to meet your eyes. His face is cute, lips puffy and red, eyes dancing with hope.

“D’you want to—”

“Oi, Dutchy!”

You jump as a holler comes from down the hall, echoing off the vast brick walls. Tom’s expression shifts, his lips pursing as he glances down the corridor. He turns away from you to yell back.

“What?”

You think it’s Osterfield, one of Tom’s friends. He too is dressed casually, standing tall with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face.

“We’re going out! Don’s got us the VIP section down at the Grove. C’mon!”

Tom looks torn, a ripe line carved out between his brows. He glances back at you, biting his lower lip.

“Go,” you urge, smiling softly. “Celebrate with your team.”

He frowns slightly. “Come with us?” he asks.

You shake your head. “No, it should just be you guys.” As much as you like Tom, you can’t think of anything worse than going on a night out with the entire loud, boisterous hockey team. You smile encouragingly when you see the turmoil in his eyes. “You deserve it.”

“Are you sure? Because I can stay here, and we can—”

You lean up, moving your hands back down to his shoulders as you kiss him very softly. “Go,” you urge, whispering against his thin lips.

Tom leans into you, keeping your lips pressed until you can feel him smiling into it. He begrudgingly steps back. “Thank you,” he says, “for coming to the game. And being so lovely.” His lips quirk a little taller. “And for letting me kiss you.”

“Well, it didn’t take much convincing.” You cross your arms over your chest and lean back against the wall, your figure feeling colder without Tom’s touch. His eyes run the lines of your face, gaze warm and comforting.

“Have a nice night,” he says. There’s still hesitation on his face, so you step forward and kiss his cheek before gently pushing his shoulder.

“You too” you respond. Tom finally walks away, but only after shooting you a wink.

You lean back against the wall, pulling out your phone and staring at the blank screen as you discreetly keep your focus on Tom. When he reaches the end of the corridor, Osterfield thumps him on the back and murmurs something unintelligible which earns him a shove into the doorway as the two friends leave together. Tom glances back just before disappearing, and you smile at him as he waves his hand playfully.

Once alone, you release a tight sigh of contentment. You deflate, sagging against the wall as you feel your heart beating faster in your chest. Absently, one of your hands drifts up, fingertips resting on the outline of your lips. Your mouth is still warm from Tom’s kisses, and your heart feels a little softer, too.

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

You don’t see him for a while, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t constantly on your mind. At some point, Tom adds you to his private Instagram story, and it feels like a gentle confirmation that he feels the same way as you. You stay in constant contact, and he starts to send you more memes and silly texts each evening. The smile on your lips barely fades, and every time your phone lights up with a new text from him, you get excited.

Unfortunately, the high doesn’t last forever. All too soon, it’s a week before your first competition, and the good feeling finally goes away. As extended practices cut into your life, you’re left frazzled and stressed, trying to balance your team’s expectations against your own personal competitiveness. It doesn’t help that your ankle is giving you grief again.

“No, no, no. You’re better than this, Y/N! Stop cutting the spin too early. You have to extend it into the end of the beat!”

It’s a Thursday morning, and you’re exhausted. The bags beneath your eyes hang heavy, and every manoeuvre you try to execute just seems to leave you worse than before. You’re cold on the ice, and your bones are chilled from fatigue and stress. Everything aches, and try as you might, you can’t land the final ten seconds of your routine. Your coach has forced you to go over it again and again, minutes blurring to hours as your frustration festers.

“It’s not working,” you call back, reaching up to tug on your hair. Your coach is leaning against the rink barrier, resting on her elbows as she watches you, pursed lips.

“Do it again,” she encourages. “Faster!”

You grit your teeth, skating back into the centre of the ice. The music starts again, and you run through the entire final section, nailing the parts that you know. Yet, as you reach the big finish, you falter. You end up flat on the ice, frustrated tears burning your eyes as your ankle throbs. As the track cuts out again, you hear your coach’s loud sigh, carrying across the ice.

“Pack it in. We’ll continue tomorrow.”

You grimace as you climb back to your feet, wincing slightly.

“I can do it again,” you call back, swallowing down the lump in your throat. You want to. You have to.

Your coach shakes her head, lips set in a firm line. “You can’t,” she responds. “You’re worn out and making mistakes. Your injury won’t sustain you.” She pauses to shake her head. “This isn’t what any of us want, Y/N, but you need to rest.”

Your fingernails dig into your palms as you grit your teeth. “But—”

“No. Go home.” Your coach pushes off from the barrier, shaking her head. When you fail to move, she turns back, arching a brow. “Go.”

A string of irritated cuss words falls quietly from your lips as you reluctantly skate from the centre of the rink. Your fingers go to your cheeks, wiping away the cool tears that fall from frustration. It’s a private session, but a few of your team are hanging around. Their sympathetic smiles and gentle arm pats make you bristle, and you’re silently seething as you stomp over to one of the benches and throw yourself onto it, groaning.

You lie down and stare at the ceiling for a while, trying to focus on your breathing. It’s just one bad training session. You’ve landed the end section of your routine plenty of times before. It’s just a bad day.

…But it’s also a bad day, one week before the first rounds of competitions, where a performance like the one you just gave would have you finishing in last place, your Olympic dreams crumbling to pieces.

You close your eyes, clenching your hands into fists as you stretch out over the bench. Your teammates know to give you space, so you aren’t sure why you feel a shadow falling across your face. You ignore it for a few moments, putting it down to someone unknown peering at you fleetingly, but when it persists, you pry an angry eye open.

“What— Tom?”

For the second time, you find yourself surprised by his presence. Tom is standing beside your bench, swallowed by a deep green hoodie with a blue denim jacket pulled over the top of it. In his hands are a stack of papers and his eyes are full of concern.

“Hi,” Tom says quietly, looking a little embarrassed. His cheeks are dusted light pink. You wonder how long he’s been staring at you for. “Are you okay? I, uh… I saw the end of your training.”

You feel rigid and breakable as his eyes pool with warmth, his gaze like tender sunbeams. When he steps closer and presses a gentle hand to your shoulder, your stress bubbles over. As you bring your knees to your chest, you press the side of your face into them, blinking up at him as a few tears skate down your cheeks.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he murmurs, cooing softly. “Don’t cry, darling.”

Tom gently coaxes you up the bench and sits behind you, throwing a leg either side of the wood to straddle it. You let him pull you back into him, his arms feeling warm and strong as he hugs you tightly from behind. He burrows his face into your neck, warm hands going up to cup your cheeks as his fingertips carefully flick your tears away.

“I’m not sad,” you murmur, swallowing back another wave of tears. “I’m just annoyed.”

“I know.” Tom pauses, and you take a moment to breathe in the scent of fresh laundry. “It’s the most frustrating thing in the world when you can’t get something right. But if you work yourself into the ground, you won’t ever be able to do it.”

“But- but what if I want to work myself into the ground,” you mutter, causing him to chuckle.

“Then you’d be silly.” Tom kisses your cheek, his lips warm and light. “And you’re not silly. You’re the strongest athlete that I know, Y/N. You just need to let other people look after you. Let… Let me look after you.”

Your breath hitches and slowly, you pull your face away from your knees. You stretch your legs out in front of you and turn to look at Tom, curiosity in your gaze as you think about how close he’s holding you, and how passionately he’s speaking to you.

“Thank you,” you say, voice quiet. A shy smile curls across your lips.

Tom hums. His hands fall down to your shoulders, and he gently squeezes your arms. “Go have a shower,” he says. “You’ll feel better, and then I’ll look after you some more.”

You reach out, fingers twirling around the strings of his hoodie. “You’re too nice to me,” you murmur, shyly ducking away from his gaze. “How are you so perfect?”

He laughs, the sound so ripe and joyful that it brings warmth back to your chest.

“I’m not,” Tom disputes. “I just care about you.”

You hum, and before you can lose your cool, you lean in and softly kiss him. Tom’s still for a moment, but then he pushes closer, gently and delicately kissing you back. His hands swoop down to hold your waist, lightly stroking over your sides. When you pull away a few moments later, you feel steadier.

“Hmm,” you say, mind running slow, ensnared by the glimmers of warmth in his eyes. “I like kissing you.”

Tom chuckles, nose brushing yours. “I like kissing you too.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

It turns out that Tom’s right—you do feel better after having a shower. As you find yourself in the deserted skating changing rooms, the sight of your troubles being swirled away down the plughole releases a large part of your stress. The hot water coaxes your good mood back, and it continues, even when you have to wrap up your ankle again.

By the time Tom reappears, knocking gently on the changing room door before entering, you feel better. You’ve changed clothes, washed your hair, cleansed yourself of all the bad energy that had clogged you up. You feel like you again.

“I got this for you,” Tom announces. He holds a disposable cup in his hand and presents it to you with a grin. “Hot chocolate, for m’lady.”

You roll your eyes as you accept it, looking up at him with gratitude warming your chest. “Thanks, Tom.”

He glances down, eyes taking in your form. You’re again stretched out on a bench, one of your legs bent at the knee, the other laying out in front of you. A few bandages hang around, and Tom looks at them curiously.

“How’s your ankle?” he asks, chewing on his lower lip as he stares at your fluffy sock.

“It’s okay,” you reply. “I braced it. Should be alright as long as I take it easy.”

Tom nods, then very slowly walks to the end of the bench. He runs his index finger down the bottom of your leg, his touch light but warm. You’re in a skirt, your legs bare and exposed, and as you take in the mischievous glint in his eye, you wonder what he has in mind.

“Y/N,” Tom starts, voice gentle. His fingertips play around with the top of your sock as he looks up at you from beneath his lashes. “Can I kiss it better?”

You’re breathing a little lighter as you look at him. “Yeah,” you agree. “Go ahead.”

Tom kneels on the floor, settling beside the bench with ease. With gentle fingers, he rolls down the top of your sock, just far enough so he’s able to leave a very soft kiss to your tender skin. He doesn’t linger there too long, his eyes fixed to your face, but his lips don’t leave you, either. Very carefully, taking his time, Tom starts to drop kisses to your skin. He gradually works his way further up your leg, dusting warm, open-mouthed kisses from your ankle to your shin, then your knee.

You shift on the bench as Tom starts to come higher, one of your hands drifting down to rest in his curls. You put the disposable cup on the floor as you watch him. There’s a heat slowly building in the pit of your stomach, and with each meeting of your flesh and Tom’s mouth, it grows more pronounced. It isn’t long before you’re parting your legs, his lips pausing at the bottom of your thigh as he changes from light kisses to deeper, needier sucks. A short whimper travels from your mouth, wobbling into the air as his lips draw the blood to the surface of your skin.

“You’re so pretty,” Tom murmurs, looking up at you from the ground. His eyes are wide, darkened with lust. He splays his hand along your neglected thigh, rubbing gentle circles to the skin. You whimper when he drops his tongue to lap over one of the marks he’s pulled to the surface of your skin. “Do you want me to go any higher?” His voice is raspy.

The space between your legs is throbbing, and immediately you nod. “The, uh, the door,” you murmur, voice shaking. Tom presses a final kiss to your inner thigh before standing up. He winks at you before jogging to the changing room door, easily flicking the lock, then coming back towards you. “Are you, um… Are you sure you don’t mind?”

Tom grins. He sinks down to his knees beside your head, his hands tugging the bottom of your legs. You sit up on the edge of the bench and turn as your thighs open over his shoulders. Tom kneels between them, his bed of brown curls complementing your skin tone nicely. He presses a kiss to your neglected leg before his hands carefully skim up to play with the hem of your skirt.

“I wouldn’t mind one bit,” he replies, his voice a little darker. He tilts his head as he meets your gaze, smirking softly. “I’d really like to. Do you want to know a secret, darling?” Tom’s fingers slide up, his index and his middle making contact with the front of your panties. As he traces delicately over the front of your core, small arcs of pleasure roll out from your centre. The way his lips twitch taller makes you wonder if he can feel the way your cunt seems to throb.

“Yeah,” you respond, voice light. A whimper passes through your lips as Tom applies a little more pressure to your covered clit, your hips gyrating down to meet his fingertips in response.

He pulls back, only to push your skirt out of the way, tutting quietly when you mewl.

“Been wondering what you’d taste like for ages, love,” he coos. He uses his grip on your thighs to pull you closer, and you moan when he buries his head between your legs. Your panties are still on, but that doesn't stop Tom from nosing up against your slit, hot breath fanning out across your warmth. When he draws his tongue over the front of your panties, you release a breathless whine. “Bet it tastes as pretty as you are.”

You reach down and bury your hand back into his curls, pulling Tom closer as he ghosts his tongue over the front of your panties. He’s lapping lightly up your slit, the pleasure muted but still there, and your eyes fall shut as the muscles in your thighs tense.

“Fuck, Tom,” you whine, feeling your cunt pulse. “Take them off. I need more.”

His nimble fingers are quick to follow your instructions, and as soon as your hips are falling back to the bench, his mouth is on you. You cry out as you finally feel him, the pleasure direct and far greater than you’d expected. Tom devours you, using both of his thumbs to press your lips apart as his tongue travels all over your heat. He spends a while focusing on your clit, the tip of his tongue firm and unrelenting, but when you start to whine a little louder, he teases you by drawing away. He flattens his tongue and licks a few broad strokes up your centre, moaning against you until you’re fisting at his hair and shaking.

“Fuck,” you whine, voice barely there. “Feels so good.”

Tom’s complete attention is on you and your eyes roll back when he teases your entrance with his mouth. One of his thumbs rolls up to toy with your clit as he pushes his tongue into you, your walls throbbing as he explores you. You push him deeper, obscenities mixing with slurred acclamations of his name, and it’s as though you can feel your pulse hammering in your head.

“Knew it. Tastes like fucking heaven,” Tom murmurs, pulling away from your entrance to shoot you a smirking smile. He brings two fingers to your pussy and teases you there, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead when you moan and rut down against them, taking agency and fulfilling your desires. “Shit, baby. You’re so wet.” He fucks your heat, eyes moving off your face and fixing on the mess between your legs as he coos. “I can feel you clenching around my fingers. Does that feel good?”

“Yeah,” you whine. When Tom drops his head and wraps his lips back around your clit, you cry out. “Getting so close,” you say, words tangling together as your chest heaves. You feel so hot, your body trembling as your edge hangs in sight. “Keep going, f-fuck, Tom. You’re so good.”

He adds a third finger to your heat, and your jaw slackens. Tom changes the angle of his digits a few times before curling them just right, and he continues to stroke up against your g-spot as you cry out. You stammer out a few words of warning, and he moans in response. The vibrations of the sound coupled with the way his tongue is applying the perfect amount of warm, sloppy pressure to your clit push you over the edge. As you peak, you fall back onto your elbows, tightening your grip on his hair as your pussy throbs, taking wave after wave of pleasure as it rocks across you and smothers you.

Tom doesn’t stop until you’ve ridden it out completely and you’re sensitive. With a push at his hair, you coax him away, still trying to gather yourself as your throat feels dry. The expression of cocky fulfilment hanging from his lips makes you shiver, and you almost moan again as you take in the sight of his chin, glistening with your arousal.

“How was that?” he asks, cleaning his chin with the back of his hand. Tom carefully stands up, still looking at you as he leans back and picks up a box of tissues from one of the benches. He passes a few to you then leans back against one of the lockers, looking at you admiringly with his arms crossed.

“Really good,” you manage, voice still a little hoarse. You clear your throat and ignore his chuckle as you take care of the mess between your legs with a tissue. Your eyes soften when you look back to him. “Thank you.”

Tom just nods, taking the used tissues and binning them before making a quick stop by a sink to wash his hands. When he strolls back over, he stands in front of you and cups your cheeks in his palms. You stare up at him, smiling as he meets your eyes.

“Glad I could make you feel nice,” he says, voice soft. He leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Now… If you have time, I want to take you home. Run you a nice bath, make you some lunch. Make sure you’re looking after yourself.”

You feel your face warm as you listen to his musings, and find yourself biting the inside of your cheek. “You’d want to do all that for me?”

Tom nods. His hands run over your face, fingertips gently caressing your cheekbones. It’s as if he’s examining you, trying to ensure that you’re okay, that you’re safe, that you’re happy. It makes your heart soar.

“‘Course, darling. I care about you a lot.”

You tilt your head to the side so you can kiss the inside of his palm. “Okay,” you agree. You stand up, wincing slightly as your ankle disagrees with taking your weight. Tom’s hands move down to hold your waist, steadying you. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

You start to walk, only to look back at him and glare jokingly. “Can’t believe you ruined my underwear,” you say. “Feels fucking freezing without them on.”

Tom arches a brow, picking up his bag and slinging it over his back before catching up to you. “Um, I think technically it was you who ruined your underwear.”

You scrunch up the tip of your nose, only for your scowl to melt when he kisses it. When you reach the door, you undo the lock and open it, letting Tom through before following him out into the corridor.

“Whatever,” you reply, sinking into his side. His hand is warm in yours, your fingers tangled together nicely. “Worth it.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

It’s noisy in the arena.

With the final match of the season underway and the league title up for grabs, the atmosphere is electric. The stands are packed, frenzied by the presence of the large broadcasting cameras that stream the match live to thousands online. Sitting in the home section, the noise seems louder than it would be elsewhere in the arena. Everyone around you is as invested in the result as you are, and as the energy rises and falls, you feel connected to the mass of strangers around you. You know that they share the ache in your fingers built from the tight clenching of your knuckles into fists, and the strain of your eyes as you spend too long staring at the bright white ice.

The score is 4-4. The players from both teams have been giving some of the most convincing performances of their careers. It’s been close all match.

You hadn’t been sure that you’d be able to make the game, your own days filled with the later stages of your competition, but you’re glad you managed to swing it. Tom needs you.

He’s skating well. He’d assisted one of the team’s goals, and managed to subvert several other shots on goal attempted by his rivals. Tom looks as handsome as ever, face flushed, eyes focused, figure bulked wide with protective padding, but you know he’s nervous. He’s looking up at you more than usual, his teeth gritted together, and his jaw tensed. It’s clear just how much the title means to him.

It’s been a few weeks since Tom came and picked you up after your meltdown at practice, and since then, your feelings for him have escalated. You think it must be a form of torture to watch someone you care about so much getting pushed around, and injured, and hurt on the ice, knowing you can’t do anything but sit and watch it play out in front of you. Every time he gets slammed up against one of the plastic wall barriers, you wince, almost feeling the pain yourself, and despite him always brushing it off and getting on with the game, you worry for him.

“Fucking hell. That looks like it hurts.”

Beside you is Harry, one of Tom’s brothers. You’d met him before the match when Tom had thrust a ticket at you and told you that he’d wrestled it off one of his other brothers. Your guilt had been assuaged when you’d been told that Paddy finds the finals too stressful to sit through. Harry’s been entertaining you all evening, acting as a buffer between you and his parents, who make you feel nervous being so close to.

“Shit,” you agree. You wince as Tom gets barged into and goes spiralling across the ice, only stopping when one of his teammates catches him. “This is actually brutal.”

Harry makes a low humming noise. He turns to glance at you, then he hesitantly reaches down to pat your knee.

“He’ll be fine, though, Y/N,” he says, speaking a little awkwardly. “It’s uh… just part of the job. He’s used to it. I’ve lost count of how many times he’s broken his nose.”

You hum as you think about the wonky lines of Tom’s face. “True,” you agree. You pull your team scarf further around your figure, snuggling into it in search of relief. “Just isn’t nice to see him hurt.”

Harry makes a humming sound of agreement and releases your leg with a final pat. The game continues, and before you know it, they’re into the last third. As the clock ticks down from 20 minutes, things are tense. Tom blurs with the rest of the team, and your eyes skim around all the figures, moving and spinning across the ice like it’s choreographed. There’s something quite beautiful about how they’re able to execute formations and manoeuvres amidst such chaos.

Your eyes stick to the back of Tom’s jersey, screaming Holland in bright orange. He’s closing in on an opponent, trying to steal the puck with gritted teeth. The air leaves your lungs as the scene plays out in slow motion, your eyes widening to the size of gold coins as you watch the larger man smack the puck with ferocity, attempting a shot on goal before Tom manages to steal it. Instead of the puck flying near the goal, the angle flicks it to the side, and the entire section around you gasps as it soars through the air and collides with Tom’s face. His eyes are fine, given the visor on his helmet, but his nose is exposed, and it bears the brunt.

Your heart stills for a moment, the volume of the arena fading out completely as you see Tom go down, clutching at his nose as a trail of blood drips over the ice. There’s the sound of a whistle, and you only start to breathe again when you see one of Tom’s teammates haul him from the rink. His blood freezes to the ice, leaving a trail of dark marks staining the ground behind him.

“Fuck, fuck,” you find yourself saying, finally tearing your eyes away from Tom to stare at Harry. Tom’s brother is wincing. “What do we do?”

Harry shrugs, grimacing. You look back to the ice to where Tom’s being dragged on his skates back to the team bench. You can see him smiling, but it's indisputable that he’s in pain. You can see it in his eyes, and the way his blood mixes with the salty blend of aching tears. “Can’t really do anything,” he says. “Told you his nose gets it.” Harry pauses for a moment, then gently elbows your side. “You could go down, though. They’ll probably do a quick fix in the tunnel. I doubt he’ll want to be benched for the rest of the match.”

You nod stiffly, but find yourself hesitating. “Are you, uh, sure that he’d want that? It wouldn’t be annoying?” When Harry turns to raise an eyebrow, you chuckle nervously. “I don’t want to knock him out of the zone, y’know?”

Harry’s eyes fill with understanding, but you think you can still detect a layer of teasing to it. “My brother is actually obsessed with you,” he says. “He watches compilation videos from your competitions every single bloody night. Even if you broke his heart, I doubt he’d ever be able to find you annoying. So…” Harry pokes your shoulder. “Get down there, alright?”

You shoot him a smile, unable to pretend that his words don’t warm your heart.

The game is still paused, yet you hurry down the aisle, stepping over trays of discarded nachos and half-filled plastic pints of beer as you utter words of apology to the disgruntled fans. Moving quickly, you dodge up and enter one of the back stairwells, flashing your team ID at security. The arena is a complex system of back corridors and passages, but you know them inside out.

You reach the long corridor that connects the changing rooms to the ice, and you see Tom standing in the middle of it. He’s surrounded by people—doctors, his coach, a few reserve players. Out in the arena, you hear the game pick up, but back here, time is standing still.

“Stay still,” one of the medics says. Tom grumbles something before yelling out a light curse word. The closer you walk, the more you see. Tom’s holding a bunch of stained tissues to the bottom of his nose as the medic quickly bandages his bridge. It’s not advised for him to go back on the ice with a broken nose—but you also know that with ten minutes left on the clock, the patchy fix-it job probably won’t cause permanent damage. You quite like Tom’s wonky nose, anyway.

“He’s such a twat,” Tom grumbles, wincing again. “Did he get benched?”

“Yeah. Penalty.”

“Good.” Tom folds his arms over his chest. When the medic pulls away to dig through his bag of bandages, Tom glances up the corridor. His eyes widen as he sees you, and you watch him do a double-take. When you raise a hand in greeting, his face softens. “Y/N?”

“Hi,” you call out, stepping closer. “Is it okay I’m here? I, um… I was worried.”

He nods, only to receive a scolding from the medic. Smiling sheepishly, Tom beckons you closer. He offers you a hand, gloveless and cold, and you hurry forward to take it.

“‘Course,” he murmurs. Now close, you’re able to see the flecks of dried blood on his face. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he says, speaking softly as if he knows how frazzled you feel. “Happens all the fucking time.”

“Mmm. Harry said so.”

Tom raises an eyebrow. “Oh, really? How is he? Looking after you?”

You chuckle. “He’s funny,” you say. You roll your thumb over the back of Tom’s knuckles as he winces again, the medic pushing his ice pack out of the way so he can dab a wet tissue at Tom’s nostrils. You realise that his nose has stopped bleeding.

“Funnier than me?”

“Never.” You squeeze Tom’s hand. “You’re doing well out there.”

“Thanks, darling.” Tom glances away from you, looking back at the medic as he finally steps away to gather his stuff. “Can I-?”

“Yes,” the medic confirms. “Just don’t touch anyone. The second you’re done, come find me and I’ll fix you properly.”

Tom nods, then bites back a noise of pain. “Thanks, Doc,” he murmurs. Tom looks back to you, dropping his voice as you’re left alone with him. “I, uh, I gotta go,” he says, tilting his shoulder back in the direction of the ice.

“Okay.” You shoot him a soft smile and squeeze his hand before stepping back. “Good luck, Tom. Smash it.”

He pouts slightly, a wedge forming between his brows. “Kiss?”

“Kiss?” you repeat, snorting softly. When Tom nods sadly, you step nearer and press your hands to his shoulders. You lean up and capture his lips in a warm kiss, smiling into it as his palms paw at your waist. For a very brief moment, you get lost in it, overcome by the round lines of his chapped mouth and the heat of his hands, but you force yourself to step back. You can feel how badly he wants to be out on the ice. “Good luck, handsome,” you say, whispering against his lips. You step back and cross your arms, smiling widely as he blushes. “You’ve got this.”

Tom gives you a final nod, eyes alight. “See ya in ten!” he says, before turning on his skates. You stay watching him until he reaches the end of the corridor, and the smile is still on his face as he turns back to grin at you. The arena goes wild as he reappears, and you find yourself biting your lips as you try to control the butterflies in your stomach.

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

Tom lives about twenty minutes from the arena, and you find yourself waiting on his front step. With your knees pulled to your chin, the chill of a March evening cools your face. You don’t feel the cold much—instead, you’re distracted by the images of the team winning, playing on loop in your mind.

It’s a blur. A snapshot collection of Tom scoring the tie-breaking goal, the sight of the crowd going wild as the final buzzer sounded, the spray of champagne foam sticking to the ice. You’d hung around afterwards, receiving a very messy kiss from Tom who was vibrating from excitement. After a round of celebratory photos, Tom had been hunted down by the medics, and he’d pulled you aside briefly to ask you to meet him here.

You sigh as you stretch your legs out in front of you, looking down at the laces of your shoes and how they contrast the dark cement paving stones. Tom shares his house with Harrison and Harry. You’ve been here a few times, and it feels odd to be here without him.

“Y/N!”

You startle as you look up, so distracted by the loops of your laces that you’d failed to see Tom. He finishes clambering out of a large car, and you think you catch a glimpse of Harry in the front before it goes speeding away from the pavement. Tom approaches, his nose bruised but free of bandages, a wide smirk on his face as he picks up into a light jog. When he reaches you, he sweeps you to your feet, taking your hands firmly and kissing you before you have a chance to say a word. You shiver as he reaches up to cup your cheeks, craving the body heat, sinking into him and the scent of his fresh shampoo.

“You’re shivering,” Tom murmurs, pulling back to stare at you. His eyes widen as guilt shadows his features. “Fuck, how long have you been waiting for me?” He steps back to dig through his pocket, tongue settling between his lips as he hums.

“Ten minutes,” you estimate. When his eyes widen, you shrug bashfully. “Hasn’t been that bad. Next door’s cat came and said hi.”

Tom scowls as he steps past you, driving his key into the front door with ease. “Little ratty thing, isn’t it?” he mutters. He opens the door with a flourish, then steps aside to invite you in. When you walk across the threshold, Tom winds his arms around you from behind, pressing his chin to your shoulder before tilting his lips so he can kiss your cheek. His warm breath fans out across your face. “I’ll warm you up, darling. I’ll make you feel better.”

Ten minutes later, you’re in his bed. Despite his promise of warming you up, you seem to be losing more and more clothes. What had started out as a celebratory kiss has ended in you straddling him, grinding over Tom’s crotch as he gasps into your mouth and grabs at your waist.

You like being on top. It gives you better access to Tom—to the sight of his face constricting with pleasure every time you grind a little harder, and to the sound of his small moans. There’s a shadow along his nose and lining the swell of his cheeks from the break in his nose, and if he wasn’t so tender, you’d try to kiss it better. Instead, you decide to make him feel better in a different way. He’s calmer now than he’d been at the arena when he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off you or his lips away from your neck, but the longer you spend making out with him, the more eager he gets. There’s a dark spark in his eyes that matches the fervour in his grip.

“God,” he murmurs to your lips. “You’re such a beautiful girl.”

A hot flush travels through your body, and you shy your face into his neck. You distract him with kisses, dragging your lips over the firm flesh of his warm skin.

“Can I mark you?” you whisper, dragging your lips up to his ear. Tom moans loudly as you move your teeth over his earlobe and bite lightly.

“Fuck yeah,” he murmurs, rolling his hips up against you. You’ve ditched your jeans, and so has he, but where you’re still draped in a shirt, Tom’s chest is bare and exposed. You run your hand over his arm and feel his muscles there as you kiss up the side of his neck. Deep marks follow in the wake of your lips, but they aren’t nearly as pretty as the sound of Tom’s moans. “Fuck, darling. Shit. Feels so good.”

Tom lasts about a minute more before growling and pushing you from his neck. His eyes glint and a shrill squeal leaves your lips as he picks you up and presses you down onto the mattress. As your back sinks into the bed, the slats creak. Tom cages you in with a forearm either side of your head, one of his hands drifting into the ends of your hair as he very lightly rests his nose against yours.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi.” Your smile twists a little darker as Tom rolls his hips against yours and you feel his cock straining against his boxers. You reach up to play with his hair, tugging on the strands when Tom moans. His curls are fresh and fluffy, air-dried after the shower and silky smooth to touch. You’ve been together a few times since he ate you out in the changing rooms, and though you’re yet to go all the way, you’ve picked up on a few of his preferences. “Are you okay?”

He isn’t doing much, just staring at you, lips parted. His eyes skitter across the shapes of your face before linking up with your own, and you feel your heart clench in your chest as Tom shifts his hand to cup your cheek.

“Just thinking,” he murmurs. He’s speaking quietly, voice gentle as if he’s being fragile with you. “I, um… I want to ask you something?”

You tilt your head to the side. “Right now?” you ask. To prove your point, you snake a hand down between your bodies and apply pressure to his member with the flat of your palm. Tom groans, eyelashes fluttering out across the top of his cheeks. It seems to take him a lot of self-control to nod, and you feel his hips quiver as he holds himself back from grinding into your hand.

“Yeah.” Tom takes a moment to pause. “We’ve been hanging out for a while, Y/N, and I really like you. I think that you’re so talented. And beautiful. Shit, you’re really beautiful.” He chuckles, his nerves showing on his face. “I can’t imagine being with anyone else. I wouldn’t ever want to be with anyone else. So, darling… Do you want to be my girlfriend?” He pulls back to peer at you, teeth clenched, eyes wide.

A smile breaks out across your face.

“I’d love to be your girlfriend, Tom,” you whisper. You lean up to kiss him just as he leans down, and you gasp as you accidentally hit Tom’s nose with yours. He groans, pulling up and dramatically falling onto his back as his limbs splay out. “Shit,” you giggle, sitting up and crawling closer. Tom’s pouting, tenderly poking at the edge of his nostril as he grimaces. “Sorry, baby.”

Tom melts, pulling you back on top of him. “Call me baby again and you can do anything you want to me,” he mutters. A small blush finds his face as he comprehends his words, and you end up smiling softly as you settle over his thighs. One of his large hands curls between your legs and you whimper as he teases you over your panties for a few moments. When he finally dips his fingers beneath the silky material, you find yourself whimpering.

“Feels good,” you moan, pressing your hands to Tom’s chest as he rolls two fingers around your slit. You get antsy and grind down against his touch, wriggling up his legs until his fingertips nudge against your hole.

His hair is spread out against the white sheets of the bed, face screwed into an expression of concentration as he curves his digits into your heat. You whimper, tossing your head back as he works you open with ease, brushing up against your g-spot and stimulating it until you’re gasping. As heat slowly begins to take over your body, you reach down to the hem of your shirt and pull it off. Next to go is your bra, and you guide Tom’s other hand to the curve of your breasts as you ride down on his hand.

“Look so pretty up there,” he murmurs, biting at his lip. “Like an angel, or a princess.” Tom skims his thumb over your nipple, smirking as you whine. “My princess.”

You gnaw on your lip for a moment before sitting up, letting Tom’s fingers slip out from you. You reach down and hook your thumbs beneath the material of his boxers, and Tom seems to get the hint.

“I need you,” you say, speaking quickly. You have to roll away to kick off your pants, and by the time you’re ready, Tom’s sitting up again. He slides up to sit against the headboard, fiddling with a condom and sheathing himself before you can spend too long admiring his length.

“C’mere then, lovie,” Tom coaxes. He pumps his cock in his fist a few times before hitting at his thighs, beckoning you forward. His lips kiss your forehead as you straddle him. Blindly, you reach down to cover his hand in yours, and together, you guide his tip to your entrance. Your slit is hot and pulsing, your body worked up from the teasing and the anticipation. “Are you sure you want this?” he asks, voice softer.

You shoot him a teasing look. “Yes,” you emphasise. You bite your lip as you slowly lower yourself onto him, gasping softly. “Been thinking about this for so long, Tom.”

Tom grasps your lower lip between his teeth, sucking on it harshly before flicking it up and stealing your mouth in a deep kiss. You moan as you settle there, in his lap, your walls stretched around him completely. You can feel everything—the curves of his cock, the press of his tip against your velvety walls, the feeling of his skin on yours. You love it.

It’s quick to become hot and intense. Tom’s hands on your waist, your fingers tangled in his hair. The stretch burns to enjoyment before long, and then you’re just lost in it. You feel so bare to him, beyond the fact that your naked bodies are intertwined so closely, like he’s able to see straight through you. For someone who spends so much of his life fighting aggressively, Tom is remarkably soft. His hips are firm, and his thrusts unrelenting, but his lips on your face are warm, and the words of heated affirmation he whispers into your ear make you melt.

“So tight, princess,” Tom moans, grasping at your waist. He kisses you, groaning into your mouth as you continue to ride him. You alternate your movements, swapping between deep bounces and swirling your hips in broad circles so that you get to feel every delicious line, bump and curve of him. “God. Feels like fucking heaven.”

“I know,” you manage, voice hoarse. You’re not embarrassed by the way there are wet sounds of arousal filling the air—it only seems to spur Tom on as he squeezes at your waist.

Things blur quickly. You can tell that he’s wound up from the stress of the game, and his hand is shaking when he reaches up to cup the top of your heat. You’re quick to match his arousal, feeling your own climax jerking closer as Tom brings his thumb down to your clit. You’re aroused, and your slit is wet, so it’s seamless as he toys with the bud.

His name falls from your lips like a prayer, the syllables blurring as your eyelids drop closed. It’s hard to tell where your body ends and his begins, but you like it. Tom wraps his other arm around your hip and holds you close, touching his lips to yours as he finally spills.

“You’re so perfect,” he moans, his eyes screwing shut. “Shit, Y/N—”

The action of him throbbing against your walls pushes you over the edge too, and you’re panting into him as warm shivers spread over your entire figure. You’re full of a golden buzz as you stop moving, stilling with his cock still pressed inside you. Tom’s lips come down over the top of your head, following in a line from your forehead down your nose before going to your lips. When he finds your mouth, both of you are smiling.

“Wish we could do that forever,” he murmurs. “Felt amazing, darling. You’re amazing.” There’s a rosy flush to his cheeks, and he looks at you like he’s won the greatest prize of the night. “Stay?”

“Overnight?”

“Yeah. Right here.” Tom reaches out to hit the mattress. “I’ll cuddle you,” he promises. “Make you tea. Bring you breakfast.” He smirks. “Make love to you all night.”

You roll your eyes.

“Okay, boyfriend,” you agree.

Tom raises a brow as if he likes the sound of that, then seals the deal with a softer kiss.

“Perfect.” His hands skim up to cup your breasts, and he pecks your lips a final time. “Girlfriend.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

There’s an hour to go before you skate in the biggest competition of your life. You’re at the largest arena in London, killing time on one of the practice rinks as you try to forget that you’re so close to delivering your final routine of the season. This routine will decide if you come out on top or not and reveal whether you’ve managed to impress the Olympic talent scouts.

You feel a blend of two very fine emotions—confidence and nervousness. You’re prepared, you’re in control, and you’re ready, but that doesn’t make the prospect of going out there any less daunting. Adrenaline soothes the nerves, and distraction is your best friend.

Tom’s sitting on one of the benches, flitting between watching you and messing around on his phone. You’ve learnt that he’s the only person you like to be around before a competition, and in the month you’ve been officially together, he’s become your rock. He seems to get you—understands the way your brain spins when you’re stressed like this, knows when to step near and when to leave you alone. As if sensing your thoughts lie with him, he glances up from his phone.

The month off from competitions has been kind to Tom. He’d had a cracking set of bruises following his broken nose, but they’re healed now, and his skin carries the golden glow of a champion. After mouthing a few words to him from across the ice, you watch him sit up straighter and put his shoes to the bench. Tom had brought his skates to the arena, despite not being the one competing, because he knows, just as you, that sometimes the best way to relax before a competition is to mess around and distract yourself. Sitting beside him is a very large banner, hand-painted, that wears the words, Go Y/N!. He’d made it with the rest of his team, and you’d almost cried when he’d unrolled it and given it to you, grinning with pride like a small child showing off his art project.

You do a few spins as you wait for him, the small practice arena blurring. A few other people are hanging around—mainly your friends, and a few coaches, but none of them pay attention to you. You go so fast that you miss whatever it is Tom scoops up from the bench and then proceeds to hold behind his back, keeping it out of your sight as he skates towards you. A frown finds your lips as you drift nearer, squinting your eyes.

“What’s that?” you ask, trying to make out the object.

Tom juts out his lower lip, eyes dancing teasingly. “Not gonna say hello, darling? That’s a bit rude, don’t you think?”

You shoot him a poisonous look but sigh when he just smirks in response.

“Hello,” you say. You skate forward, planting your hands on both of his cheeks and drawing him in close. Tom’s lips are warmer than yours, and you savour their firm press. When you pull back, you cross your arms over your chest. “What is it?”

“Close your eyes first.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

Begrudgingly, you shut your eyes. You hear the rustling of plastic, and then smell the scent of fresh flowers. Tom presses a bouquet into your hands, and your lips twist up at the corners.

“You can open them now.”

It’s a bunch of roses, dark red and delicate. You trail a thumb over their petals, breath caught in the back of your throat. Your boyfriend continues to speak as he watches you.

“You said that no one had ever bought you flowers before,” he explains, voice steady. “I was going to save them for afterwards when you win, but I know you’ll end up being given about a thousand when they all see how talented they are, so I wanted to get in first.”

You look up at him, tears blurring your waterline.

“They’re beautiful, Tom,” you whisper. His confidence in you, and the support he shows you, every single day, means everything to you. He means everything to you. “I love them. I…” You look up, meeting his eyes as you finally speak the words that you’ve felt so strongly but kept tucked away in your heart for fear of rejection. You aren’t scared anymore. “I love you.”

Tom’s eyes widen, his lips briefly parting. There’s a heart-stopping moment when he betrays nothing, but then life twitches across his face. He relaxes, sinking forward to touch your waist as he pulls you closer and brings his lips to yours.

“I love you too, darling,” he says. He’s able to press his nose against yours now, and you feel his cold tip press to your face as you shift the bouquet into one hand and curl the other around his back. “I feel like the luckiest man in the world.”

You smile against him. “It was lucky, wasn’t it? That out of all the people on the rink that day, it was me you managed to crash into.”

Tom chuckles. “Felt less like luck at the time,” he admits. “I thought you were going to kill me.”

You smirk. “I was pretty mad. Can you blame me, though?”

“Nope.” Tom kisses the tip of your nose. “Worth it, anyway.” He surprises you by skating back, plucking the bouquet from your hand with ease before spinning you beneath his arm, cooing as the hem of your dress flutters in the air. “Did I ever tell you how much I love your outfit?” he adds. “You look like a princess.”

Your cheeks hurt, and when you stop spinning, you turn to face him.

“I feel like a princess,” you admit, accepting the flowers for the second time. “Does that make you my prince charming?”

Tom nods, smiling. “It’d be an honour.”

The air between you stills, and all that’s left is love.

“I’m nervous,” you admit, glancing down. “What if I fuck this up? What if I fall over? Or- or what if I don’t land a jump? What if my ankle can’t take it?” You gnaw on your lip. “Then it’ll all be over.”

Tom soothes you with a hand on your cheek. “You won’t fuck it up,” he says, voice confident. “You’re incredible, Y/N. You know the routine, and you know yourself. You’re ready for this.” He tilts his head to the side, eyes glinting warmly. “You’re going to go out there, smash it, then you’ll come back, and we’ll celebrate. Alright?”

You look down at the roses, then back to your boyfriend’s face, and you know that you believe him.

“Okay,” you agree. You bite your lip before darting up to kiss his cheek. “Love you, Tom.”

His eyes are full of adoration. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs. “I love you too.”

Tom presses his forehead to yours, and you relax there. With your fingers grasping the flowers and his hands caressing your waist, you let him support you. You let him kiss you, and hold you, and love you.

(And, later on, you let him hold your shiny gold medal, too.)

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

i hope you guys liked dutchy as much i liked writing him :’)) this has taken almost a month! if there’s any interest, maybe we could do a hockey!tom blurb night soon...? idk ! i’d be down. let me know if you’d be too <3 thanks so much for reading!!!! please let me know what ya think!

mlist and taglist can be found through the link in my bio!

[springgirlwaiting4fall]

Taking Care of Eddie Kingston After His Double or Nothing Match.

He told you that it wasn’t going to be pretty. But you rolled your eyes and told your boyfriend Eddie Kingston that you wouldn’t miss his big match at Double or Nothing for anything. This was his first pay per view that you two were an official couple. You had seen plenty of his matches when you two were just friends. You watched when he fractured his orbital bone. It was called an anarchy match, you were expecting barb wire, thump tacks, and ladders. Of course he would be bruised and cut up after the match. But when Eddie came out during the match drenched in blood, limping, a craze look in his eye, and a gas tank in his hand, you felt sick. It looked like he was in a car accident. Allie grabbed your hand when you gasped and told you he was okay. Watching backstage you kept reminding yourself he was okay, this was all planned, the majority of that blood isn’t even real. He told you that someone would be waiting for him backstage when he got off the fright elevator to help get the blood on him.

The moment Eddie walked backstage, you jumped into his arm. And you refused to let go as Tony thanked him and everyone in the fight thanked each other for putting the all into the match. Different wrestlers and backstage members congratulated him as he walked to the locker room, you still wouldn’t let him go. “Sweets. I have to shower.” You shake your head no, there was no way you were going to be away for him more than 30 seconds. Eddie notices how clingy you are, this is definitely isn’t you’re your usual MO. “Okay. Let me grab my bag and than you get us to the hotel.”

“Deal.” You stepped away from him, not caring that your custom Eddie’s Kingston’s girl shirt was ruined. You two make it back to the hotel room in record time. “Let me clean you off.”

“Why are you so shaken up sweetheart?” You shrugged your shoulders, before starting the shower. While the water warms up you undressed Eddie than yourself.

You take his hand and take him in the shower. You make Eddie stand under the water spray and watch as all his sweat, grime and blood (the real and the fake) slide off of him and down the drain.

Taking your loofah and soaping it up, than starting at the top of Eddie’s head you start to scrub him down. While doing this you notice that his cuts weren’t as terrible as they seem. Eddie stands back under the spray, the water finally starting to run clear.

The knots in your stomach untie and your thighs that have been shaking since the beginning of the match finally stop. Taking a deep breath you make Eddie turn around and begin to massage his shoulders. You feel all his tension and knots of his own under your hands. When his beautiful eyes aren’t staring into your own, you a finally able to say why this match tore your soul up so much. “Eddie I love you.”

You bite your lip as you feel him freeze and turn around to face you. It’s the most serious you have ever seen him. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispers. You want to tell him that you didn’t expect him to say it back and that you both can pretend that you didn’t say it, if things could go back to normal. “Your too good for me, but I ain’t letting you go; I love you.”

Eddie pulls you against his chest, and pushes your hair out of your face. Than leans down and kisses you. It’s slow and soft, like the first time you kissed. Just wanting to explore each others mouth. You two stay like this until the water starts to turn cold and Eddie feels your body shivering. He Turns the water off and steps out of the shower. Grabbing a towel he uses it to dry your body off and wrap you up so your warm, before getting a towel for himself. “Let me show you how much I love you.” Eddie picks you up and brings you to the bed, laying you down. Your towel falls open exposing your body to him.

He lays on top of your, using his forearms to support his on weight. You want to lose yourself in him, but you notice all those fresh cuts and bruises. How Eddie winces when he moves his body a certain way to kiss your neck. “No baby.” He pulls away from you a confused look on his face. “We have all the time in the world. And when you heal up I’m going to rock your world.” You kiss his lips before getting him to lay on his back. Eddie sighs when his back hits the mattress, clearly appreciating it. “But right now I’m going to order us room service and you are going to pick us out a movie.”

***

Eddie watches as you pick up the menu from a table across the room. He feels his eyes start to tear up, this isn’t unusual for him after a big match. But this time he isn’t thinking he doesn’t deserve the praise or the spot. This time for the first time in a long time he feels safe, happy, and cared for. He has not felt this loved before or been in love in his whole entire life.

[writtingrose]

Hey.

If not been done already, can I get smutty Eddie Kingston headcanons please ❤❤

You sure can hon! I hope you like them.

Eddie is a giver

He could spend hours between your legs, tongue buried inside you while he makes you cum over and over again

Loves covering your body in his mark, sucking and nipping hickies into your skin

The speed all depends on his mood

If he's pissed off, it's usually hard and fast. Making you cum as much as he can back to back

If he's in a good mood, it's slow, drawn out.

He'll edge you over and over before he finally lets you crash over the edge

Once he's satisfied, that's when he slides into you. Making sure you feel every veiny inch as he fills you completely

Eddie, surprisingly, isn't into dirty talk that much

He prefers to let his body do the talking for him

He's very much into aftercare, always loving a good cuddle after sex

If it's been a particularly rough round, he will spend as long as it takes helping you recover. massages, a warm bath, kissing every inch of your body while he whispers how good you did

Has a huge praise kink. He's always telling you how good you are, how much you

Headcannon Tag List; @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @exe-babymox-exe @sophiewolfheart-blog @drewmcintyrekoccsrocbwdgfan @shayscorpio @justamess44 @abadamn @shortyiceheart @lghockey @ava-valerie @susanleann1@omg-im-such-a-masochist @heelbucks

[wwenhlimagines]

Don't Be Insecure Girl (Part 2) - Eddie Kingston smut

Warning: smut...duh 😁

*I don't own any of the gifs*

Part 1

Your hands wrap around the base of his neck as your lips attach to his. You moan lightly as Eddie gives your ass a light smack before picking you up by your thighs and lifting you onto the bathroom counter. His hands gently massage your thighs moving from the outside in and closer to his favorite place. He runs his fingertips up and down the inside of your thighs as your breathing gets heavier in the kiss. You pull away just long enough for both of you to watch as his fingers lightly trace your outer lips. You look back up at his face to see how concentrated he is. "Look at me when you play with your favorite pussy." His head snaps up and he nods lightly as his fingers slowly circle your clit. You try your best to stay still as his fingers slide up and down your pussy making you wetter by the second.

"Okay baby, you can slip a finger or two in now but you have to keep eye contact." Eddie bites his lip as his middle and ring fingers slide into you easily due to your wetness. "Babygirl, I need to taste you, please." You give him a kiss before lightly pushing his shoulder down to tell him to go ahead. He maintains eye contact as he flattens his tongue and starts to lick your clit before wrapping his lips around it and starting to suck it. His fingers slowly move in and out of you and he starts to curl them up to hit all the right spots to make his girl feel good. You moan watching the sight of him sucking your clit and fingering you at a frustratingly slow pace. "Oh baby, please make me feel good. Move faster." Eddie winks at you as his tongue makes figure 8s around your clit and his fingers pump faster. Your hand grips his head pushing him closer as your head starts to fall back in pleasure.

"Hey, eyes on me babygirl! You're going to watch me make you cum all over my face. This face is your throne baby, so enjoy the view from up there." He winks and a shiver runs up your spine from the way he spoke to you making your body hyper-aware of his presence. You nod as he locks your legs around his head and his tongue teases your vagina quickly before diving in. His fingers play with your clit as his tongue thrusts in and out of you. You lightly rock your hips front to back as you ride his tongue and your walls grip onto his tongue as your body is overcome with pleasure. "Oh fuck, YES! Eddie you tongue fuck me so good!" He happily collects your wetness on his tongue from the bottom all the way up to your clit before pressing a kiss to it and standing back up. "Thanks for the treat baby, I was quite parched."

You sigh as your breathing starts to return to normal before Eddie smirks and turns the shower on before wrapping your legs around his waist and walking you both into the shower. He presses your back against the side of the shower as he leans in to kiss you. Your lips meet and you moan tasting your cum on his tongue. "I love you so damn much Y/N. Please let me know whenever you are feeling insecure in any way. To me you are perfect and I will remind you every day for the rest of my life if you let me." You smile and kiss him again before pulling away. "I love you Eddie with all my heart. I will work on being more open with you. You are my dream man and I wouldn't have it any other way." You kiss him again and you tap on his arms to signal you want down as Eddie's eyebrow peeks up.

"Speaking of open, what that mouth do sweetheart?" You smirk as you kneel in front of him quickly. "We both know this mouth can drive you crazy baby." You grab his dick and pump it a couple times before you wrap your lips around it and give the tip a light sucking. His head tries to fall back, "Hey, eye contact." He looks back down at you as your release his tip and start tracing the veins with your tongue. "Y/N please, I need to be inside you." You let go of him and let him help you back up as he presses your back into the wall and lifts one leg to wrap around his waist. His dick slides inside you and it makes any worries you have about your body image wash away with the water running down your bodies. Once your bodies are connected in this intimate way, it feels like you're one with him and you feel so happy. Eddie kisses your neck before taking both of your hands and pinning them against the wall above your head with his left hand and his right grabs your ass as he starts to move in and out. His kisses turn into love bites as your pussy starts to clench around his dick. "Harder, baby, faster." Eddie obliges, sets a higher pace and thrusts deeper into you as his left hand let's go of your wrists and they wrap around to his back. Your nails scratch across his shoulders as he hits your gspot over and over again. His forehead rests against yours as your orgasm takes over your body and Eddie holds you up as his thrusts grow sloppier. He kisses you passionately as he stills and shoots his cum inside you. "Fuck Y/N, you feel so fucking good when you cum around me." His breathing starts to normalize as you bring your leg down from his waist and run your hands all over his chest.

"Thank you so much for showing me how to love and how to be loved Eddie." He smiles "Thank you for putting up with me and making me feel like the luckiest man in the world. "Now don't be insecure girl! Own that ponytail! Work that updo!"" He quotes one of your favorite videos to watch together when you are bored. You laugh at his impersonation and kiss him quickly before turning to the showerhead and letting the water wash the sweat from your workout and love session away. You spend another 10 minutes in the shower happily washing each other and stealing kisses here and there. Eddie gets out first and hands you a towel before you both dry off get ready to watch tv and relax. As you stand in the closet picking out clothes, Eddie admires you from behind rubbing his hands together and licking his lips "That ass though...mmm so glad it's mine." He smacks your ass and jogs away before you can retaliate.

[aewhore]

hello can i request a kenny omega smut where the reader and kenny are out and the reader is being very bratty and when they go home kenny punishes her and makes the reader call him ‘sir’ :) thank you ❤️❤️

The King of Pro wrestling! Kenny Omega x reader (NSFW)  

 (Request for @kennysquads !!

love you by, I hope you love this!!)

Sitting backstage at dynamite was always exciting no matter how many times you did it. Listening in as Kenny, Don and the good brothers run through their upcoming segment gives you a fascinating insight into the work side of your fiance Kenny Omega. He had this dominant, powerful aura as he listened to Don talk about what an amazing wrestler he was and how he was the king of pro wrestling, you liked the sound of that. Your man is no normal world champion, he’s a king. You move your hand from your lap to Kenny’s, squeezing his muscular thigh before starting to gently massage your way up towards his groin. Your wandering hand is interrupted by Kenny’s when he grabs it suddenly. “Watch it doll, daddy’s working” his low, rough voice makes you smirk as you realise you’re getting him worked up.  “Oh I’m sorry, I just can’t keep my hands off my big strong King.” you fake pout at Kenny.  He tightens his grip on your hand before turning his attention back to Don. He moves his hand that’s holding your own to your lap before He releases your hand to rest it on your thigh, he returns to the conversation with the good brothers. Your newly freed hand jumps back into action as you move your hand to lightly touch Kenny’s forearm before you move it up to his strong biceps, you can’t help but grab at the tight muscle underneath his soft dress shirt. Kenny’s grip on your thigh tightened as his bicep tensed under your touch, you smiled at how even after years of being together Kenny still felt the need to show off to you.  

You move closer to Kenny so that your head rested on his shoulder, your lips just ghosting the back of his ear. “Do you need me to prove my loyalty to you, Your Highness? Or should I call you my King?” You were smiling as you could feel the anger in Kenny rise. “Doll. I’m warning you.” You roll your eyes at Kenny’s blunt responses. “I thought being a king made you fair, you’re not being very fair to me daddy.” you move your hand from Kenny’s bicep to his chest, slightly playing with the buttons on his shirt. Kenny allows your hands to roam for a little longer before he grabs onto it. “Careful Y/N, You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into Princess.” Kenny warned you but that only made your sly smile grow even more. “I think I can handle it, your highness.” You feel Kenny’s hand grip onto your own before Don interrupts. “Showtime Boys, let's get to guerilla position so the champion can be where he belongs, centre stage!” He turns on the spot and walks to the door with the good brothers. Kenny drops your hand and stands to follow Don before turning back to you. “When I get back here, you are not to say a word, we return to our hotel room and I shall deal with you then.” He towers over you as he awaits your response. “Yes, daddy.” He smirks, “Good girl” He leaves the room swiftly after. You breathe out a breath that you didn’t realise you were holding in when the door closed behind Kenny and his entourage. 

The ride back to the hotel was a quick and tense one as Kenny was pissed off from being hit by Kingston and nearly laid out by Christian. He had an iron grip on your hand as Don was yapping in his ear about how wonderful he was and how those guys don’t hold a candle to him. Although Kenny’s heavy breathing implies that he isn’t listening to uncle Donny. Once you all pull up to the hotel, Kenny drags you through the lobby and into the elevator. When the silver doors of the elevators closed in front of you, Kenny pulled you so you stood with your back tightly to his chest. His arms were locked around your waist. “When we get to our room, you are to strip immediately and lay on the bed, on your back with your legs open like the little slut you are.” You gasp at Kenny’s instructions, heat settling in your pelvis. “Do you understand doll?” Kenny was nearly growling into your ear at this point. “Yes sir” Your voice comes out as a slight whine but Kenny seems to be content with your answer as he leans back against the elevator wall and waits for you both to arrive at your floor. 

Walking to your room caused excitement and nerves to grow in the pit of your stomach. Kenny opens the door and allows you to enter first. You both slip off your shoes as you rush to the edge of the bed where you strip out of your clothes as fast as you can. As you climb onto the bed to settle on your back you see Kenny has taken off his jacket and has rolled his dress shirt sleeves up to his elbows. You subtly bite your lip as you drink in Kenny’s dominant appearance. Kenny walks from the doorway over to the side of the bed. “Hands above your head baby.” You follow Kenny’s order and raise your hands towards the bed’s wooden headboard. Kenny pulled a necktie from his back pocket and began to tie your outstretched hands to the headboard. Once he was finished tying your wrists, he took a small step back to take in your nude, bound form. “Aren’t you sight for sore eyes?” Kenny said more to himself than to you. Kenny stepped back towards the bed and kneeled on the edge of the bed beside you. He raised his hand to gently cup your cheek and smirked when you nuzzled into his palm. He traces your bottom lip with his thumb before slowly pushing his thumb into your mouth, you curl your tongue around his thumb as you gently suck on it. He pulls his thumb from your mouth and begins to move his hand down your neck, to your chest where he sharply pinched your nipple causing you to cry out at the sudden pain. “Quiet” Kenny growls as he continues to pinch and toy with your nipples until they are sensitive and hardened. 

Once he was satisfied with toying with your tits he continued to move his hand down your body, lightly grasping at your waist and hips. He retracts his hand before it moves between your legs. A low whine escapes your throat. Kennys moves with lightning speed as pinches your nipple again. “I said quiet doll, I don’t like to repeat myself.” You whine. “I’m sorry sir” You bite your lip to hold in your squeal. Kenny’s hand retreats again as he reaches behind him to grab a bottle of lube off of the bedside table. He opens the bottle and pours some onto his fingertips. Before returning the bottle to the table. He moves his hand down between your legs where he allows some of the lube to drip onto your awaiting pussy, you quietly gasp at the cool lube making contact. Kenny uses his middle and forefinger to rub the lube through your folds before rubbing tight circles onto your clit. You were choking back your moans as Kenny relentlessly rubbed circles on your clit. Kenny’s other hand moves to toy with your nipples. “Let me hear your slutty little moans baby, let this whole floor know who makes you feel this good.” You stop biting your lip immediately and allow your moans to flow freely from your mouth. The coil in your pelvis tightens and tightens and Kenny reduces you to a moaning mess. “Do you want to cum baby?” You frantically nod as words fail you. “Well, you should have thought about that earlier when you acted like a slutty little brat.” Kenny snarls as he takes his hands away from you leaving you on the edge of orgasm but not giving you the satisfaction of cumming.  

“Please sir, please I need to- I need to cum, please.” You beg Kenny but to no avail. ”You will cum when I allow you to cum, until then you will take what I give you. If you’re a good girl, I might let you cum, if not then you won’t be allowed to cum for a week and you’ll have to watch me get myself off. Am I understood doll?” Kenny’s voice makes you squirm with need, you need to cum and only Kenny can give you the relief you need. “Yes, Sir I understand.”  Kenny breaks out into a big smile. “Good girl.” Kenny moves so he is kneeling between your legs. His hands grasping your knees before roaming up your thighs and back again. Your back starts to slightly arch off the bed before one of Kenny’s hands comes down to rest on your pelvis, pushing you back against the mattress. Kenny leans back onto his heels, removing both his hands from your body and settling his hands onto his thighs. “You’re such a little slut for me aren't you doll, look at this pretty little pussy. I can’t wait to be balls deep in you, fucking you like the whore you are.” Kenny’s vulgar words have moans flowing from your mouth and you can feel your pussy throbbing, clenching around nothing. Kenny unbuttons his pants and slowly pulls down his fly. You bite your lip in anticipation of seeing Kenny’s hard cock. He reaches into his briefs to pull his cock out, not even bothering to remove any of his clothes. His cock was throbbing hard and leaking with precum. He jerked his cock a few times in his fist spreading the precum down his shaft. He moved towards you. He slid his cock along your folds, teasing your clit with the tip of his cock. His hands move from his cock to your hips. Your moans built-in volume as Kenny began to enter your hole. You screamed when Kenny completely thrust into you, stretching you out and giving you no time to adjust as he started a toe-curling pace. “Fuck, you take me so well doll, god you’re so tight, my little cum slut, oh my god, yes, you’re my fuck toy” Kenny’s grip on your hips was so tight you knew it would leave bruises but you didn’t care. You were too focused on trying not to cum but Kenny was making that incredibly difficult as his cock stretched you perfectly, hitting your G spot with every thrust and had you biting your lip so hard the coppery taste of blood trickled into your mouth. Kenny slightly lifted your hips off the mattress and the new angle had your eyes rolling into the back of your head. “God look at you, you look like a bitch in heat, Fuck your nothing more than a little cumslut” Kenny somehow quickened his pace making tears form in your eyes before they streamed down your cheeks at the never-ending edging and overstimulation. Kenny’s thrusting began to falter as he was nearing an orgasm of his own. “Does my little cock sleeve want me to cum in her?” Kenny moved so you were now chest to chest with him speaking directly into your ear. “Yes sir, please use me as your cum rag, sir please!” You damn near scream before Kenny moves his hand from your hip to your neck to grip onto your throat. “Then cum for me doll,” he said as he tightens his grip on your throat. You cum immediately, the brief shortage of oxygen giving you the most euphoric orgasm you’ve ever had. Your vision going completely white as Kenny fucks you through your orgasm. He gives a few more deep thrusts before he cums deep inside of you, painting your walls with white ribbons of hot cum.   

“You still with me doll?” Kenny asks after collapsing onto you. “Hmm, yeah I’m here daddy.” You mumble back, your arms straining against your restraints, wanting to hold Kenny. Kenny reaches up and unties your hands, helping you to lower your arms as the muscles were still tense. “You did so well baby, you’re so perfect. I love you so much.” Kenny punctuated his words with kisses to your face and neck as a smile broke out onto your face and your heart warmed at his adoring words and actions. Kenny moved to pull out his now softening cock causing you to whine and wrap your arms around Kenny pulling him back into you. “What are you doing doll?” You tried to hide your blushing face in Kenny’s neck but he wouldn’t allow it, holding your chin in his hand so you had to make eye contact with him. “I was hoping... You would stay in me... All night.” Kenny’s worried face was replaced by a relieved one before his eyes fluttered shut for a moment. “Jesus doll, you’re trying to kill me. Of course, we can do that, you can have my cock whenever and however you want. How about a shower first though? Or would you rather daddy drew you a nice, warm bath?” You smiled knowing your daddy was going to spoil you all night long. “A bath please daddy.” Kenny nodded before he wrapped your legs around his waist and lifted you off the bed, walking towards the bathroom. You smiled into Kenny’s neck, maybe being a brat had its perks.

[darkorderaf]

i'm currently sitting at 60 requests that i'm very excited to write!! so to make sure i get to them as timely as i, a known tortoise, reasonably can, my requests are now CLOSED for the time being. under the cut is my to-do list. tysm for sending them in and i hope to have them out soon. <3

Adam Cole

Adam Page

Alex Reynolds

Brody King

Knight in dark armor.

OFC/Reader is slightly frightened/intimidated by him but can’t seem to stay away from him.

Christian Cage

Christian and friend of Jungle Boy.

Chuck Taylor

Walking in on you undressing + accidentally saying I love you.

I’m watching you date all these other people and it’s definitely not jealousy I’m feeling + “I’ll kiss you right now to prove I don’t feel anything for you” but the kiss does the exact opposite.

Agreeing to kiss each other “just to see what it’s like’, the first kiss and the realization of ’‘it’s always been you’.

Hiding their face in the other’s neck.

CM Punk

Somehow always ending up in each other’s presence, even when you don’t mean to…

A kiss on the cheek that almost turns into a real kiss.

Wiping OFC/reader’s tears away when her boyfriend breaks up with her.

Hugs that last just a little longer than usual.

Danhausen

He and a female wrestler hooked up but she’s lowkey embarrassed about it and wants to keep it quiet; Elite tease her about it.

Frustrated kisses.

Daniel Garcia

“Looks like we’re gonna be stuck here for a while.” + “Why do you only kiss me when I’m sleeping?”

Eating from each other’s plates.

Eddie Kingston

“I feel like shit.” “You look like it, too.” *they bump shoulders*

“Just… tell me what I can do to make you feel better”.

Ethan Page

Evil Uno

Hushed conversation in-between kisses. Spooky fic cont.

Spicy smut with arrogant, heel Uno after win against Edith Surreal.

Hiding your feelings to not ruin the friendship, even going as far as avoiding each other completely, yet somehow always ending up sharing an intimate moment.

HOOK

Cuddling in the first morning light.

Reader is member of Team Taz; her and Hook have feelings for each other and they’re conned into admitting it.

Soft kisses while cuddling in bed.

Jay White

Kitchen counter make-outs.

John Silver

General smut.

Jon Moxley

Kenny Omega

Sharing an umbrella.

Whispering “kiss me” to your lover + legs wrapped around your lover’s body, hands tearing their shirt off + pushing your lover onto the bed, kissing down their stomach + “it’s always been you” kisses.

Malakai Black

Calloused hands in soft hands.

Possessive hand holding.

Loosely holding onto each other’s hands, laying in one’s lap + playing with each other’s fingers.

Hugging from behind + kisses on head.

Matt Jackson

Almost saying I love you before stopping themselves.

MJF

Accidentally saying I love you.

Telling each other how proud they are of them + absentmindedly massaging each other.

Not realizing they’re holding hands till someone points it out.

“Losing your train of thought when in each other’s presence”.

“It’s always been you”.

“I feel like shit.” “You look like it too.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I can’t stop crying.”

“You are, without a doubt, the most annoying person I’ve ever crossed paths with. And don’t even get me started on the sound of your voice”.

Kisses in which ‘I’ll kiss you right now to prove I don’t feel anything for you’ but the kiss proves the opposite.

Hiding their face in the other’s neck.

Bandaging each other up and sharing a tender moment, grabbing your lover’s face and not being able to let go.

Nick Jackson

Catching each other undressing and very obviously checking each other’s bodies out.

Going as each other’s “platonic” date to a mutual friend’s wedding.

Nick dating reader after Matt breaks her heart.

Orange Cassidy

“It’s always been you.” Friends to lovers.

Hiding your feelings to not ruin the friendship, even going as far as avoiding each other completely, yet somehow always ending up sharing an intimate moment.

Powerhouse Will Hobbs

Ricky Starks

Humming a melody together.

“Swinging hands back and forth, skipping like children”.

Hushed conversation in-between kisses.

Secret kisses.

Squishing the other’s cheek.

Sharing clothes — you’re just that comfortable with each other.

Going as each other’s “platonic” date to a mutual friend’s wedding.

Happily doing everything with just one hand, if it means they don’t have to let go.

“Let’s just kiss to see what it’s like” then pulling away, lingering for a moment, then going in for the second kiss.

Telling each other how much they love them.

Ricky and the reader are best friends not lovers yet but team Taz forces them to realize it. Intimate moments!

The Elite

Wardlow

“Running your fingers through your lover’s hair” + “‘we shouldn’t do this” but they do so, anyway".

[lokimostly]

Polaris (Ch.16/?)

Loki x Reader, Pirate!AU

Word Count: 4,466

Warnings: violence, language

Summary: Your life has always been set in stone. Born to a wealthy merchant family in the Caribbean, you’ve spent your years as an heiress in the daytime, escaping at night to wander the streets of St. Thomas. Now, on the eve before your life settles into mundanity for good, you discover someone who could change everything– if you choose to trust him, that is.

A/N: As promised, this chapter is entirely from Loki’s perspective! Don’t worry, we’ll get back to our debutante reader soon. For now, this is his part of the story. Let’s let him tell it.

Chapter One ~ Chapter Two ~ Chapter Three  ~ Chapter Four ~  Chapter Five ~ Chapter Six ~ Chapter Seven ~ Chapter Eight ~ Chapter Nine ~ Chapter Ten ~ Chapter Eleven ~ Chapter Twelve ~ Chapter Thirteen ~ Chapter Fourteen ~ Chapter Fifteen

The sun was making its first appearance over the glass sea, turning the sky pink and lighting on the waves with a rosy glow. The clouds were as pale and wispy as stretched cotton. As the sunrise dimmed the map of stars above, it burned bright in the reflection of Loki’s bloodshot eyes, staring out at the waves as they turned to gold.

His hands were already blistered from rowing. The sinew of his muscles had been stretched to their limit a few hours ago, and so he had let go of the oars to hold his head in his hands instead, filled with a despair that felt larger than the ocean around him. Hot, frustrated tears fell from his eyes, more to try and soothe their dryness than to curb the aching in his chest. Perhaps it was a mix of both. It was only in raising his head to dry his eyes, blinking away the water and fatigue, that he saw the merchant ship approaching.

Loki’s brows pulled together. It was a trading company ship; not Odin’s. Rather small. The bell on deck was ringing, signaling a man overboard as they approached, and a few seconds later, a rope landed in Loki’s lap.

Several pairs of hands helped haul him over the side, pulling him onto the deck, but they were quick to leave him; Loki’s reddened eyes and haggard look gave him a frightening aura, one that the men obviously weren’t keen to hang around. He slowly straightened his posture, rolling his sore shoulders and looking down at the Captain, standing in front of him. 

Loki gave him a single glance, surveying him without much consideration. He was small and portly with receding hair, hardly intimidating– though clearly he was doing his best to look nonplussed by Loki’s sudden and unexpected arrival.

“Glad to have you aboard, sir,” he greeted, as warmly as he was able. “I’m Cap’n Montgomery, and this’s my ship The Duchess. How’d you wind up all the way out here?”

Loki didn’t answer. He stood still on the rocking deck, his posture stiff, looking out at the pale dawn sky with a hardened expression. 

Captain Montgomery waited awkwardly for his response, shifting his posture. Then he cleared his throat. “Perhaps you’d like to talk elsewhere?” He gestured to the doors that led to the Captain’s cabin.

Loki’s eyes trailed to the left, and he nodded. He followed the Captain inside, walking slow and cat-like with a look of apprehension as he stepped over the threshold. His eyes were quick in surveying the small room, unadorned by lavish decor. The only notable object of interest was the mahogany desk that Captain Montgomery sat himself behind, setting his elbows atop its surface and waiting for Loki to close the door.

He did so, and stepped over. The ship’s charter laid open-faced by the Captain’s hand, and Loki’s dark eyebrows pulled together. “Where is this vessel headed?”

Captain Montgomery’s eyebrows raised and he held out his hand in a stopping motion. “Now, hang on a minute. I have some questions to ask you first–”

Loki reached forward and spun the paper to face him, scanning the lines. “Kingston?”

The Captain’s eyes flickered. “Aye, that’s right, sir.”

Loki’s frown deepened. “That is exactly the opposite of where I need to go,” Loki muttered in annoyance.

The man shifted in his seat, visibly uncomfortable. “Well–”

“What day is it?” Loki interrupted again, looking up at him. His gaze was sharp enough to cut glass. They might have been a different color, but when he wanted them to, Loki’s eyes could hold just as much chill as his father’s. 

The Captain blinked. “Uh– the first of August, sir.”

“What was your name again?”

“Mont– Montgomery. Captain Montgomery.”

Loki hummed shortly, leaning on the desk. He glanced back at the closed doors, then returned to the paper in front of him, running a finger over his lip in thought. The captain watched him uneasily as he stood there, still as stone, with nothing but the rocking of the ship to mark the passage of time.

Suddenly Loki reached forward and grabbed the captain by the collar, slamming his face into the mahogany and twisting his arm behind his back in one fluid motion. The Captain shouted in surprised pain, only to be silenced when Loki twisted his arm further, his lips curled in a snarl.

“Listen to me very carefully, Montgomery,” he threatened between his teeth. “It is in our mutual best interests that you take this ship to St. Thomas immediately. One more inch in the wrong direction and this arm will break. If you don’t do as I say, the same thing will happen to your neck.”

The Captain struggled fruitlessly beneath Loki’s grip, his face squashed against the desk in a contorted expression of anger. “You – you bastard!”

“Pirate,” Loki corrected, applying the slightest fraction of pressure. It was enough to make the captain gasp and pant in pain. “Do we understand each other, Montgomery?”

“It’ll–” The Captain wheezed, struggling to speak. “It’ll take more’n three days to get there. The wind… the wind’s against us.”

“Then you should bear a hand and tell your men to come around,” Loki suggested coldly, and let go of him. Captain Montgomery stood up so fast that he stumbled backwards, holding his arm and staring at Loki with frightened eyes. He darted past Loki and out of the cabin, running faster than Loki suspected he ever had in his life. Judging by his portly stature, it was probably a good thing for him. Nothing like a healthy fear of death to keep you fit.

Loki stood in the empty cabin and listened to the muted sounds of the captain shouting orders above, and he tightened his jaw, reaching into his pocket. The cold coin was there, safely stowed away. He rubbed it between his fingers, smoothing over the serpent’s pattern with the pad of his thumb. His eyes drifted to the window. Somewhere, out there, you were being held in a cell – stuck behind rusted bars while the sand in the hourglass slowly sifted through.

August the first. That meant he had until the end of the month to secure your safety, with at least four days already spent by the time he reached St. Thomas. Loki’s grip tightened on the coin. If fate had pushed you together – and he firmly believed that hit had – then fate would keep you from being pulled apart.

~

Nearly a week later, The Duchess floated into the rainy port of St. Thomas. The sun peeked out occasionally behind the clouds while it showered. It was one of those odd, rainy summer days before hurricane season where the weather couldn’t quite whip up enough energy to storm with full rage and intensity; not yet.

The sailors were still tying the small merchant ship to the dock when the gangplank dropped and Loki descended from the ship, running down the slippery wharf so fast that he nearly stumbled. He dodged the men loading crates, ducking underneath a load of lumber carried between two sailors, and climbed the cobble stairs with exhausted determination.

Home was only a few hours away, but Loki wasn’t headed there; not yet. Instead he headed up the street, doing his best to keep his tired legs from giving out underneath him. He made a right and found the corner bar, stumbling inside. This was the place you and Loki had first encountered one another, but also somewhere that he’d frequented long before your fateful meeting. The creaking floorboards beneath his feet were as familiar as the mattress of his own bed, and the heady smells of mahogany and beer reassured his senses that he was safe. Home. 

Being the middle of the day, the corner bar was totally devoid of customers. Light streamed in through the fogged windows while the building’s only occupant, the bartender, polished glasses behind the counter with monotonous repetition, glancing up only when Loki pulled himself into one of the barstools and leaned against the counter, his hair and clothes dripping wet. The only sounds were the steady shower of light rain outside and the squeak of fabric rubbed against glass.

“You’re a bit early in the day, young master,” The bartender observed curiously. The man sported a heavy accent behind his mustache, but his tone was good-natured and amiable. He was as much a part of the bar as the polished countertop and neatly lined bottles on the shelves behind him.

“I need a drink,” Loki said hoarsely, dropping his head into one hand and massaging his temples. His whole body ached, inside and out. Beating slow inside his chest, Loki’s heart weighed him down as though it was made of lead.

The glass slid down the counter and Loki caught it with his free hand: cold, polished glass with dark liquor inside. He tilted his head back and downed it in one go, setting the empty cup down on the polished wood. The bartender refilled it without asking, handing it back to him before returning to his former task. He polished the cups until they sparkled like crystal, despite the fact that they were already clean; no doubt it was a soothing, repetitive notion to help the empty afternoon hours pass by. “You ‘ere to talk, or just drink?”

Loki scoffed. “What’s there to talk about?” He asked, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing them tiredly. Dull sparks floated behind his vision, signs of dehydration and an oncoming headache.

“Fair ‘nough, sir. I won’t press you.”

Loki dropped his hand and regarded the man with a flat expression. His mouth pressed into a thin line, and he dropped his gaze, spinning the glass of liquor in his hand. He stared at the distorted wood pattern of the bartop through the brown liquor. 

The bartender watched him with soft, dark eyes for a moment longer before he tried again. “Is it a woman?”

“Of course it’s a woman,” Loki snapped, though his words didn’t have much bite; they never did when he was telling the truth. He thumbed the rim of the glass. “It’s the woman,” he admitted, more quietly.

The bartender nodded knowingly, tossing his rag aside and fetching a fresh one. “She leave you?” He asked, his tone conversational and unassuming, from decades of practice with discussions far more delicate than this one. 

Loki shook his head. His wet raven hair slipped past his shoulders when he did, falling in gentle waves past his ears and smelling of saltwater. “No. I lost her.” He frowned at the sudden blurriness in his eyes, downing his second glass and setting it down with a gentle thud. He sniffed. Straightened in his seat. “I’m getting her back.” Whether he said this to reassure the bartender or himself, Loki wasn’t entirely sure.

The city bell tolled out the hour, bringing him back to a state of clarity. It was later than he’d thought. Loki reached into his pocket for money to pay – and then realized he didn’t have any, apart from the serpent coin. The coin he couldn’t give away. Loki stalled, his elegant fingers still at his sides while he tried to think of a solution to this sudden dilemma. 

The bartender noticed his hesitation and extended his hand with a polite shake of his head. “You’ve been generous in the past, young master,” he stated. “I trust you’ll be back.”

Loki met his eyes. Normally he would take offense to a gesture of charity; Loki had never lacked for money, not once in his life, and he never intended to. But if he’d learnt anything from the past weeks, it was that even his best intentions didn’t guarantee the future. He met the bartender’s eyes and found them to be soft and reassuring. He bowed his head. “Thank you.”

The man shrugged, like it wasn’t any problem to him, taking Loki’s empty glass and polishing it alongside all the rest. “Bring your woman next time.”

Loki laughed once, humorlessly, and stood. “I will,” he promised, with a final nod of thanks before he turned his back to the bartender and walked back out towards the drenched cobblestone street, feeling renewed somehow – perhaps by the drink, though more likely by the man’s kindness. Not everyone in the world was bloodthirsty and rotten.

Not everyone in the world is a pirate, Loki thought. Of course, he considered himself a rare exception: Loki was a pirate, yes, but a reputable one. Honorable, even. However – somewhere deep in his heart – Loki was beginning to come to terms with the fact that getting you back might permanently soil that reputation. He intended to do whatever it took, however foul, even if it meant killing Vane and all his crewmen with his bare hands.

Would you be able to love him, if it came to that? If he became a murderer? Would you let him touch you with bloody hands, or would you turn away in fear and disgust?

The thought disquieted him, and he shook his head to clear the thought. Whether you hated him or not at the end of this didn’t matter, so long as you got out alive. He owed you that much. 

His seaglass eyes looked up instinctively towards the road that he knew lead home, but he turned the opposite way instead: there was still one more errand to run. 

In order for Loki to both save you and maintain a clear ledger inside his father’s business, he had to find a way to combine the two. That meant enlisting in his family’s help, while simultaneously making it look like he wasn’t involved at all. During his time floating adrift in the waves, waiting for the sunrise, Loki had surmised a plan of action. With some skill, and a great deal of luck, it would prove itself successful.

He hoped his luck hadn’t run out yet.

Loki found himself in a familiar backside alley, the entrance hidden behind empty fruit crates stacked six feet high. He stepped carefully down the narrow cobble path, wrinkling his nose at the stench of city sludge and old bathwater dumped unceremoniously onto the ground. The clotheslines above hung limp in the afternoon, the fabric heavy and wet from the rain – whoever put them out had neglected to retrieve them. He found the heavy wooden door with gold hinges and knocked, twice. Then he stepped back into the rain, no more than a light mist at this point, and waited. 

He was considering turning away when it finally opened. The man who answered the door had dark skin and eyes that shimmered like copper. His hair fell over his broad shoulders in locs, decorated with metal clasps. His face wore a stern expression that revealed exactly nothing, and he waited with one hand on the door – prepared to shut it again at a moment’s notice. “Yes?”

“Heimdall,” Loki greeted solemnly, and glanced out at the alley for listening ears.

“You don’t have an appointment.”

“This isn’t my usual business,” he explained, squinting as misty rainwater dripped down his face and clung to his eyelashes. “It’ll be quick. I only need one page; no forgings, no signatures. It just can’t be my hand.”

The dark man hesitated, gripping the door while he considered this. Loki’s clothes stuck to him, and he silently wished that Heimdall would at least let him inside, but he knew not to press the matter. Their relationship was a strictly professional one, and he knew how much he was asking. “I’ll pay twice whatever you ask,” he added.

Heimdall’s copper eyes met Loki’s, his expression still flat, and then he opened the door further. “Come in. Don’t sit. You’ll ruin the chair.”

Loki obliged, stepping in quickly. The room was dark and smelled of leather, lit only by candles and the narrow, cross-hatched windows that lined one wall. The other three sides of the small, square space were lined by bookshelves, lined with bottles, parchment, and bookkeeper’s tools. Less conspicuously, there were a few shelves full of antiquated volumes, which he knew to contain ledgers upon ledgers of signatures and scripts. A forger’s library.

Heimdall sat down at the desk, dipping his quill into the inkwell. “You’re lucky. I’m not busy today.”

Loki nodded in agreement, feeling relieved. “Yes, I know – it’s short notice.”

“So,” Heimdall began without looking, pulling a clean sheet of plain paper from the desk drawer. “This isn’t a false shipping charter, or an inventory log, or a bank note. What is it?”

“A ransom letter.” Loki regretted revealing this information the moment it left his mouth, but he had no choice – better to tell it now, rather than when Heimdall started realizing it halfway through writing and risked blotting a page.

Heimdall’s metallic eyes flitted up and he frowned at Loki, setting the quill down and leaning back in his chair. “Now, why would you want me to write that?”

Loki looked up and set his jaw, shaking his head slightly. “That, I can’t tell you.”

Heimdall regarded him silently. Whether it was judgement, scrutiny, contemplation, Loki couldn’t say for certain. Heimdall’s expression didn’t change. While Loki respected his ability to be discreet, Heimdall’s strong-and-silent personality made reading him nigh impossible. Finally, he raised one eyebrow. “It’ll cost extra.”

Loki’s mouth opened slightly and he nearly rolled his eyes. “I can afford it,” he grated, feeling a flicker of agitation in his chest that the man would even be concerned about such a thing. “This isn’t a fleeting interest. Give me what I want, receipt it under my private catalogue, and I’ll be on my way. ”

Heimdall sighed and picked up his quill again, leaning over the desk. “Fine.”

Loki inhaled deeply, raising his eyebrows and directing his gaze to the ceiling. He’d been devising a speech from memory for a week, running it over his tongue inside his mouth and sounding it out when no one was around. He dropped his eyes and began reciting the words from memory, watching Heimdall’s skilled hand start painting the words on the page almost as soon as he spoke. “To his esteemed grace who receives this note …”

~

“... I hope it finds in a prosperous enough position to enable us both to get what we want,” Thor read aloud, his elegant brow furrowed in both concentration. He unfolded the letter further and skimmed a few more lines silently. Flipped it over, and found no return address.  He looked up at the maid standing at the door and held it up in the air. “What is this?”

Her eyes were wide with innocence and confusion. “I – I don’t know, sir, it was delivered with all the rest.”

Loki sat silently at one end of the long table, holding a spoon in his hand and stirring the bowl of soup before him in slow, disinterested circles. Green flecks of some kind of vegetable rose and fell from its cream-colored surface; neat chunks of tomato, too, alongside pale meat cooked to perfection and pulled apart. 

It was a favorite of his. He knew this, somewhere in the back of his mind, but even the smell of it wafting up in gentle curls of steam failed to appetize him. Every ounce of his focus was bent on looking unassuming as Thor continued to read the note aloud; the note that he’d carefully hidden amongst the other letters, delivered at breakfast every morning.

“I have in my possession one soon-to-be bride of your eldest son. I understand she means a great deal to you, so let me get to the point: in exchange for 12,000 guineas, I will return her unharmed, so  long as the exchange is made at the end of August…”  Thor’s brow furrowed further. 

Loki had been home for three days– it was the ninth of August now, and an otherwise ordinary Wednesday morning. It felt strange to know the date again after being stuck on an island, where the only sense of time could be ascertained in the rise and set of the sun.

Only last night had he decided to risk delivering the note. Waiting to reveal your situation to Thor and his father was agony, but Loki couldn’t afford to take any kind of risk. The coincidence of his arrival and the note’s arrival on the same day would have been too close for comfort. Loki was cautious to a fault, and he was painfully aware of that fact: he was treading on your borrowed time, after all. His stomach twisted, feeling physically ill, and he abandoned the spoon entirely, staring out the window with a thinly veiled expression of discomfort as Thor finished reading.

“Otherwise, she will die gruesomely, after her usefulness and entertainment to us has been spent. With a letter V as the signit,” he added as an afterthought, setting the letter down carefully, like it might bite him. He reached for the envelope it had been delivered in and tilted it, and the serpent coin fell into his palm. He gazed at it in silence.

Loki was practically crawling out of his skin. “V,” he repeated, breaking the silence with false curiosity and looking between Thor and his father. “Like Charles Vane, perhaps? The pirate?”

“No doubt,” Odin replied amiably, reaching across the table for the letter. Thor handed it to him, his expression stony, waiting while their father read the ransom note over for himself. He let out a derisive scoff and shook his head, letting it drop. “Twelve thousand guineas.”

Thor’s handsome face lit on confusion. “You will pay the ransom, won’t you? Her ship was supposed to arrive in Norway weeks ago. Who knows how long she’s been held captive.”

“That much for one girl?” Odin said skeptically. “A girl who wasn’t keen on marrying you either, I recall. Ungrateful thing. The whole arrangement has been nothing more than a bad business venture.”

Loki’s face was dangerously pale, anger lighting up his veins like fire on alcohol. “But we have the money,” he argued, trying to keep his vocal tone only mildly invested. It cracked. “And you made a deal with her father.”

Thor nodded in agreement, though clearly exhibiting a great deal more patience. “Loki’s right, Father. We have a duty of care–” 

“Silence!” He interrupted, and they both shut their mouths. Odin set down his fork to eye both of them with a steely grey stare. “There is nothing we can do.”

“But we can,” Thor argued, leaning against the table on one hand and gesturing with the other. “We’ve seen the bank ledgers – Loki and I both,” he added, nodding to his brother. “Your wealth would hardly be dented. I don’t see why –” 

“I will not deal with pirates,” Odin groused firmly, his voice icy and cold.

Something inside Loki snapped. He stood abruptly, turning to Odin. The chair scraped on the ground behind him. 

“So that’s it, then,” he began. He was smiling, but in more a baring of teeth than an expression of joy. “You would first resign her to marry a man she doesn’t know, and then let her die when it’s inconvenient to help?” He pointed an accusing finger. “You’re just afraid Vane will slip through your grasp, the same way he did before, and wound your pride more than he ever could your prospects.” Loki realized that he was snarling, his lip curled and tone venomous, cheeks flushed uncharacteristically red but he didn’t care – it was too late now. The man who he called Father stared back with equal animosity, the two of them locked in heated, palpable silence.

Thor excused himself from the dining room with a quiet, grumbling apology, and Loki followed.

When he exited the room and the doors shut behind him, he saw Thor walking down the hall – but his footsteps were slow, and he clearly didn’t know where they intended on taking him. Loki’s eyes flickered, and he sighed, loud enough to draw Thor’s attention and halt his steps. 

He turned around and came to Loki’s side. He watched his brother reach up and press at his eyes, rubbing them none-too-gently, and he glanced back at the gilded door. “It sounded like you know a great deal about her,” he stated quietly, breaking the thin silence between them. His large hands were restless at his sides, wanting for actions instead of words. 

Loki dropped his hand and cleared his throat, and his eyes were distant. “I spoke with her at the ball before she left. You remember.”

Thor grunted, looking out the window. “I didn’t get the chance. I had business to attend to.”

Loki’s lips upturned in a bitter smirk. “You always do.” His gaze found the window, too, staring out at the palm fronds as they blew in the humid afternoon wind. His chest tightened with the reminder of your island – the trees and the cave, of your smaller body pressed beneath his, smelling sweet and tinged by saltwater. Of feeling complete.

Loki could only guess at how much his father knew. Thanks to his outburst, Odin knew Loki was aware of his true parentage – which meant it would only take one line drawn in the sand between Loki and Vane to connect the dots and undo all his work. Your life and Loki’s livelihood, felled in one devastating blow.

Thor was uncharacteristically still, a sign that he was deep in thought. His wide arms were crossed over his barrel of a chest, brow furrowed, and he shook his head almost imperceptibly, silently dissatisfied. “We have to do something.”

Loki scoffed and rolled his eyes, picking at the dark green fabric of his wide sleeves and spreading his fingers, staring disinterestedly at the faint scars that lined the back of his hand from years of seamanship. “Don’t humor me. You would never act outside father’s orders.”

“I would,” Thor argued, and paused, glancing over his shoulder at Loki. “If I had help.”

Loki’s expression flickered and he looked up, meeting Thor’s gaze. The two of them shared a silent exchange; the same kind that they had since boyhood, a silent discussion and a mutual agreement. Perhaps your cause wasn’t lost after all.

The corner of Thor’s mouth turned up in a smile, and he shrugged his broad shoulders, returning his gaze to the window. “Besides,” he added, “What kind of husband would I be if I couldn’t keep her alive?”

At the same time as a humoring chuckle left his lips, Loki’s breath was punched from his lungs. Realization hit him like a hollow bell – something he had forgotten to consider when he decided to enlist Thor’s help. The two of you were, by all accounts, still engaged. If Thor and Loki succeeded in rescuing you, you would wed him all the same, hopelessly stuck in the same trap as before. His mind searched frantically for an easy solution, some weakness in this sudden and unexpected obstacle, but to his growing panic he found none, and a feeling of utter hopelessness rooted inside his chest that was too deep to claw out.

Loki might yet be able to save your life. But it wouldn’t be a life with him that you’d return to.

~~~

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[peterspideyy]

chapter 9 - partners in crime

series masterlist

————

“understand the plan?” harrison asked, to both of you.

“yep.” you replied, popping to ‘p’, before placing the earpiece in your left ear, while tom did the same. harrison spoke ‘testing’ into the microphone connected to your earpiece, while you and tom gave a thumbs up to him, signalling how you can hear him.

“right, press this button,” harrison spoke, pointing at a black button on the ring-shaped device, “before the signals go off, and you should be able to hear us still.”

“should?” you shouted, looking at tom.

“you will, you will, don’t worry.” he replied, looking at the camera. you were all in a run down van (curtesy of the fbi of course), outside the ceremony’s entrance, where the whole team was listening and watching the dragons every move. as well as yours and tom’s. after harrison handed you the device, you slipped it on your finger, while tom rubbed your back. you don’t know why, but you always get nervous before a big mission. even though, you’ve been doing this for a long time, you still can’t help the butterflies form in the bottom of your stomach.

“it’s go time, ladies and gentlemen.” harrison spoke, with a slight accent making you and tom roll your eyes, before you both jumped down, tom helping you out.

“shall we go, mrs kingston.” he laughed, linking arms with you.

“we shall, mr kingston.” you replied, giggling slightly, as you walked up the steps towards the enterance.

after giving the security guard your ticket, you walked in, still linked with tom, to take in the spectacular room infront of you. the chandelier above you, glistened in the light, causing it to reflect of the marbel walls surrounding you, creating freckles of rainbow in various places. the music was low and calming, with the laughter and clinking of glasses being the only thing you could hear. you saw some agents already in the hall, who all put there wrist to there mouth to signal that you were both inside. you saw tom reach over, and collect you both champagne.

“to new beginnings.” he smiled, clinking his glass with yours.

“new beginnings.” you replied with the same action, before you both sipped the drink.

“what does that mean?” you heard harrison speak through the earpiece, making you and tom chuckle slightly, as he ruined your moment.

“come on let’s dance, yeah?” tom whispered, making you nod, as he gently took you over to where a group of people were already dancing with their significant other. you placed your hands on tom’s shoulders, while his where on your waist, before you moved your feet in the beat of the music. placing your head in tom’s neck, you breathed in heavily, allowing tom’s aftershave to calm you down.

“you look gorgeous, you know?” you felt him whisper, making you smile against his suit. you did feel gorgeous, which was a first as your not really one to get dressed up. the silk burgundy dress fit your curves, perfectly. it wasn’t revealing, but very flattering. you traced tom’s tie, which was burgundy, smiling widely at him.

“you don’t look too bad yourself.” you giggled, looking at him in his suit, which made him look even more handsome if that was possible.

tom laughed, allowing his head to fall back, before meeting your gaze again. you both got lost in each other’s eyes, and before you could even do anything, tom’s lips where against yours for a quick peck. you blushed at the action, desperately wanting his lips on yours for longer, but harrison’s gagging through the comms cut you off. again.

“save it for the honeymoon guys.”

you felt tom tense at his words, making you frown in confusion, but brushed it off.

minutes passed, and you and tom danced, while waiting for the dragons signal.

“tom,” you mumbled, making him hum, “somethings wrong.”

tom lifted his head up from your neck, “what do you mean, darling?”

“they should of signalled us by now.” you spoke, pointing up to the first floor where one of keith’s men should be. but it was empty.

“harrison,” tom whispered, while he said yes through the comms, “do you know where they are?”

“they’re there, tom.”

“well, they aren’t. so where the fuck are they?” tom whisper shouted, while you placed a hand on his bicep, trying to calm him down.

“says how they’re all outside the presidents room.”

“that’s not part of the plan.” you mumbled, while tom nodded.

“right where going up. press the ring, y/n.” tom spoke, while you did so, before you both went upstairs to the presidents room. arriving in a couple of minutes, you both got your guns out, while you pressed your ear against the door, to hear anything. closing your eyes, you tried to listen, but when you couldn’t, you signalled to tom how you’ll go in on a count of three.

“1.” you whispered.

“2.” tom replied.

“3.” you both spoke, before slamming the door open, to be met with an empty room.

“there’s no one here.” you breathed out, putting your gun away. turning to tom, he nodded before looking at you or more behind you. suddenly, his eyes went wide.

“y/n!”

before you could reply, you where knocked out by an object hitting the back of your head, with the last thing you saw was tom lying by you, unconscious as well.

————

you woke up. not completely though. it was still dark. opening your eyes, you winced at the sudden brightness, before closing them again. memories flooding back from what happened, flashed through your mind. you remember going into the presidents room. you remember being knocked out. you remember...tom. you shot your eyes open.

you were in a room, with the dragons surrounding you, while keith held a gun to your head, with his finger on the trigger. you tried to get away, but failed as you felt restrictions to your body. looking down, you saw how you were tied to a chair, via your wrists and ankles. glancing up at the gun, you tried to speak but filed again, as your words came out muffled, behind the masking tape.

“nice for you to finally wake up, y/n.” keith whispered, making you eyes go wide as he spoke your real name.

you tried to reply, but remembered you couldn’t, before he ripped off the tape, making you wince at the sudden sting. breathing out, you looked at him.

“where’s tom?” you whispered, still feeling weak from being unconscious.

he moved out the way, to reveal tom on his knees. but, you noticed how unlike you, he was beaten pretty bad, with fresh wounds of blood and bruises covering his face. he smiled at you weakly, before one of the men punched him in the stomach, making him spit blood out onto the floor. your stomach churned, as you screamed. begged, for them to stop.

“erm, how about no.” he laughed, before throwing tom into a chair by you, while other men tied him up, like you. glancing at him, you silently asked him if he was okay, while he nodded slightly in return.

“stop this now! they were only doing there job!” a man spoke next to you, and when you looked at him, your eyes went wide.

“mr president, are you okay?” you asked him, while he nodded, smiling at you slightly.

“we’re going to get out of this sir.” tom added, while you all looked back at keith who was laughing.

“wow! that was really touching.” he said, sarcastically of course.

“what do you want?”

“what i want, darling, is for you to finish the fucking plan, without your agents swarming the place.” he shouted, shooting his gun at the ceiling.

“we can’t do that.” tom mumbled, making kieth snap his head towards him. walking dangerously slow to him, he pressed the gun to his shoulder, before pulling the trigger, while tom let out a heart-wrenching scream.

“you’ll fucking do it though, or i’ll shoot a bit to the left, yeah?” he whispered, tracing the gun over his skin where his heart would be underneath. walking away, you turned to tom looking at how much blood was oozing out.

“if you don’t let me help him, he’ll bleed to death, and then none of us can help you.” you begged, panic rising.

keith turned to you, “no tricks?”

“no tricks.”

he nodded, before men behind you untied your wrists and ankles. then, you where putting pressure on tom’s shoulder in an instant, while kissing him cheek to help his pain. he brought his thumb up weakly, and brushed away a tear from the corner of your eye.

“i’m okay.” he croaked.

“don’t ever do that again.” you sighed, leaning your forehead against his, as you stared deeply in each other’s eyes.

“even though the relationship was fake, i always knew the love wasn’t.” kieth spoke behind you, making you both look at him, cautiously.

applying tape to the towel, as your hand started to ache, you sat down next to tom, with your hand on his thigh, gently massaging it, while he breathed in and out hoarsely. this wasn’t supposed to be how you started your lives together. you just wanted the plan to go smoothly. suddenly, you remembered how you still had an earpiece in.

“i need to use the bathroom.” you lied, but they seemed to believe you as five men took you to it, making you chuckle. opening the door, you noticed how men followed you, making you cringe.

“i think i deserve some privacy, yeah?”

the men looked at each other and then you, before leaving silently.

“harrison? harrison? pick up it’s-“

“y/n!” you heard over the comms.

“oh my god!” you sighed, glad you still have communication from the outside.

“what happened? i couldn’t hear you for ages!”

“me and tom went up to the presidents room, and then they knocked us out and tied us up, with the president. then kieth shot tom in the shoulder, so i patched him up, and right now i’m in the bathroom as i remembered the earpiece.” you whispered, starting to feel stressed.

“okay, okay, calm down. we’ll get a team in, in 20 minutes, okay?”

“20 minutes? a lot can happen in 20 minutes!”

“well, distract them, do anything to keep them there.”

you looked at yourself in the mirror, “tom, might not have that time. he needs a proper stitch up.”

“well, do it.”

your eyes went wide, “i’m not a fucking doctor, harrison.”

you heard him laugh, making you grow angrier, “you don’t need to be a doctor to stitch up. you did first aid training, didn’t you? that will be the perfect thing, to stall them for 20 minutes. it’s the earliest we can get them in.”

“okay. will you keep on letting me know how long we have left?”

“will do, partner!”

“tom’s my partner.”

“ouch.”

you laughed, “don’t worry, you’ll find someone.”

“y/n?”

“yes?” you asked, waiting for him to continue.

“don’t die.”

“thanks, that’s really the advice i need.” you sighed, before saying bye and leaving the bathroom, with the men following behind you.

arriving back in the room, you noticed a first aid kit. collecting it, you walked over to tom, who had his eyes closed, but when you stroked his hair, they fluttered open, while he grinned.

“what took you so long?” he whispered.

“just talking to your best friend.” you smiled, while he knew what you meant by that.

“how long?”

“20 ish.” you replied, while tom nodded.

“what are you doing?” kieth asked, gesturing to the first aid kit.

“well, i’m saving him.” you shrugged, while getting a wipe to start cleaning the wound, while tom hissed in pain.

“hurry up. we haven’t got all day!”

“we have. take your time.” a voice spoke, making you look up and see a faint outline of a figure in the darkness. you pierced your eyes, to try and see who it was, as you are sure you recognised the voice from somewhere. but, you don’t know where you did.

“no, we haven’t. soon, the fbi is going to realise they’re not coming back, and then they’ll arrest us!” keith gritted.

“they won’t, because i’ll tell them not to.” the figure replied, before they stepped into the light. yours and toms breath hitched. your eyes went wide, as you couldn’t believe who it was. who the mole was. you would of never of guessed it was him.

“carson?”

————

a/n- one more chapter, and we’ll find out what happens! did you have an idea carson was the mole? will you all get out in 20 minutes?

————

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What Is Fat Freezing, Does It work, Is It Safe and Does The procedure Make You reduce Weight?

vaginal tightening Up frequently Asked Question.

Content

Cellulite: What triggers Cellulite and how To eliminate The dreaded Orange Peel

how Hifu functions.

What Are The perks Of A Facelift?

What Is Hifu Treatment For Body

What Can I anticipate After A Facelift?

We're The Uk's a Lot Of relied On weight Management & plastic Surgery supplier.

The marks will usually be red in the beginning, then purple, and then discolor to come to be paler over 12 to 18 months. Sometimes, marks may become larger, thicker, red or unpleasant, and also you might need to have surgery to remedy them. If the marks stretch, they can develop a hairless strip of hair in the hairline, however this is not usually obvious. Excess skin is after that removed, and the remaining skin is sewn into position.

At Illuminate we utilize CoolSculpting for all fat freezing treatments. CoolSculpting is a totally non-invasive treatment that freezes away unwanted fat, assisting to contour your body and also provide you the figure that you desire. The treatment is embarked on in clinic with the client either resting or lying down. A CoolSculpting applicator is attached to the location of the body being dealt with to ice up away the undesirable fat cells, providing long-term outcomes.

How can I reduce my tummy in 7 days?

Additionally, check out these tips for how to burn belly fat in less than a week. 1. Include aerobic exercises in your daily routine. Hifu Facelift Kingston upon Thames . Reduce refined carbs. 3. Add fatty fish to your diet. 4. Start the day with a high protein breakfast. 5. Drink enough water. 6. Reduce your salt intake. 7. Consume soluble fiber.

Your bandages are normally chased regarding 1 or 2 days. After the operation there is usually some swelling, wounding as well as discomfort.

Cellulite: What triggers Cellulite as Well As just How To remove The feared Orange Peel

You will have to avoid showering and getting the bandages damp for the first 2 days, as well as avoid laborious activity, saunas and massage therapies for at least 2 weeks. It normally takes 2 to 3 hrs, as well as the majority of people require to stay in hospital over night.

How often should you Cryo?

You can get benefits from just one session of cryotherapy, but it's most effective when used regularly. Some athletes use cryotherapy twice a day. Others will go daily for 10 days and then once a month afterwards.

The signs of an infection are pain, soreness, swelling and pus in the wound, and you might also have a temperature. The scars in the hairline do not usually reveal, but the hair will certainly have been reduced much shorter right away around the injury.

Does cryotherapy help with cellulite?

Cryotherapy activates collagen production in the skin which repairs broken connections in the skin–thus reducing the appearance of cellulite! In addition to increasing collagen and smoothing out areas of cellulite, cryotherapy reduces fat deposits; fat cells are extremely intolerant of the cold.

Any details sent using this internet site, will certainly be sent safely making use of market standard safe links as well as protected and also refined according to the needs of the Information Protection Act 1998, as changed periodically. Required some guidance on a treatment rate or reserving a first consultation. You can rest assured that you are in the best of hands for your facelift at Ramsay Healthcare, from your very first consultation with to recuperation. Facial fillers are infused into your skin to restore lost quantity and also ravel lines and creases. When you're ready to go house we'll give you advice concerning recouping in the house and prepare a follow-up visit. If you have any type of concerns, you can talk with a member of our scientific cosmetic team, day or evening. We also use a number of finance options to spend for your surgical treatment, consisting of 0% Money.

just How Hifu functions.

There may be some small reduction in hair growth in the holy places, yet this is not generally an issue unless the hair is really thin and numerous facelifts are accomplished. You might have drainage tubes in your face or neck to recede any fluid or blood. These tubes will be taken out when the fluid or blood has actually stopped draining, generally prior to you go house. Heart attack or stroke A cardiac arrest or stroke might be brought on by the strain surgical treatment put on your heart.

What Are The conveniences Of A Facelift?

What Is Hifu Treatment For Body

The term 'Awesome sculpt' originates from the treatment, which makes use of cryolipolysis innovation to shape the body, supplying inch loss. This equipment is made for medical cosmetic fat reduction therapies by using below zero temperature levels in a regulated fashion right into fat cells, for a long term time period.

Please contact among our Customer service Advisors or call or discuss your monetary choices with one of our nurses during your examination at your local facility. You will have your own personal Nurse Counsellor both prior to and also after your procedure to sustain you and also answer any concerns you may have. It is advisable to rest with your head propped up in the very early days and stay clear of bending, lifting or unexpected movements of the head. You will be suggested on when you can wash your hair and also this will aid to make the removal of the stitches easier. Although make up can be utilized, Facelift365 HIFU Islington has to be well away from the stitches. If you are a smoker, or take pain killers or any type of other medicine, your Cosmetic Surgeon will want to discuss this with you at your examination.

We are executing necessary upkeep to our interior reservation systems. For info on a treatment, cost query and consultation information please full our online query form and we will certainly return to you as soon as possible. Patients generally leave the center 24 hr after the treatment; however this will certainly rely on your advancement and also on the surgeon's recommendation. In the initial couple of days after the treatment, it is recommended to rest on 2 pillows in order to reduce the swelling and to prevent alcohol consumption warm beverages or eating way too much, to make sure that the stitches are not affected. The swelling as well as haematomas will certainly go away over the very first few days. If you have any worries after your operation, talk with a physician or most likely to A&E. Bleeding after surgery can cause swelling, an adjustment in colour, and discomfort, usually just on one side.

What Can I anticipate After A Facelift?

Your anaesthetist will suggest painkillers for the initial couple of days after the procedure. Dealing with pain could reduce your recuperation, so please review any kind of pain with your doctors or nurses.

Today in the UK most males that are identified with early-stage prostate cancer cells must pick in between a dangerous medical treatment, Radiotherapy along with Brachytherapy, no therapy at all, or simply keeping track of the illness.

is non-invasive skin tightening and also training system of the dermis, subcutaneous layer, and surface aponeurotic system.

While i believe the treatment has actually aided, its still a little prematurely to claim just how much.

My skin feels tighter as well as looks better, simply intend to see the length of time the effects last.

HIFU is a non-invasive therapy that targets skin tightening as well as fat reduction through application of energy to the skin and underlying tissue.

I did look around and the deal on right now is excellent value here.

The regulated cooling science is maintained for a while in between minutes after that the fat cells begins a process of all-natural removal over a duration of weeks resolving the lymphatic system. A superb, clinical proven modern technology that will certainly deliver superb outcomes after one treatment.

Recovery issues The sides of the wounds can split up, especially at the ends of the scar. Generally this trouble is addressed by clothing the wounds, yet you may require even more surgery to eliminate the tissue that hasn't healed correctly. Marks There will certainly be scars from the surgical treatment, however a lot of these will be hidden in the hairline.

After this, you will certainly be taken to your area or comfy area where you can rest and also recover until we feel you prepare to go home. After surgical treatment you will certainly be extracted from the operating theatre to a recovery space, where you will come round from anaesthesia under close supervision. Our faces can look older than our minds and bodies in fact feel. Given that our face claims so much concerning our individuality, this mismatch can effect on our self-confidence, trigger irritation as well as impact our self-worth. Ramsay Healthcare was developed in 1964 and also has actually expanded to come to be a worldwide healthcare facility group running 480 centers throughout 11 countries, making it among the largest and most diverse personal healthcare firms in the world. Contact your neighborhood Ramsay healthcare facility to book an appointment or for additional information.

Why is cryotherapy so expensive?

What makes cryotherapy so expensive is the cost of the chamber and liquid nitrogen costs. Added to this is the rental cost of the liquid nitrogen tank and the liquid nitrogen itself. Small business owners also have the added cost of payroll for their employees and the building lease.

You will certainly be analyzed for the risk of this before your surgical procedure. Allergic reaction Rarely, allergic reactions to tape, stitches or options have been reported. If you have an allergic reaction you may require added treatment. Extrusion This is where deep stitches poke out with the skin.

Your Plastic surgeon will encourage you when you are to cease and/or return to these activities. See our Face Lift procedure video clip to see Before as well as After photographs as well as hear a client's story. Spread out the price of therapy with a 10 month passion totally free individual clinical funding. If you have issues concerning your treatment, you ought to call the CQC. You ought to get in touch with the clinic where the procedure was carried out asap if you have severe pain or any unforeseen signs. Cosmetic surgery can in some cases go wrong and the outcomes might not be what you expected. The cosmetic surgeon ought to describe just how likely these risks and also problems are, as well as just how they would certainly be dealt with if they took place.

review assessment.

While Mother earth inevitably begins the ageing procedure once more, years later on you will still be looking younger than you would certainly have if you had not had that facelift. At first your face will look a little puffy and numb and also could feel a bit odd as well as stiff but this ought to be temporary.

Therapy might be covered by medical insurance and self pay packages are available on demand. Ramsay is dedicated to shielding the safety and security of your personal details.

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High strength focused Ultrasound

Skin Tag Removal therapy In Middlewich, Cheshire.

Content

raising face With Facial massage.

origins and Also significances Of sayings, Expressions as Well As Words.

Which areas Of The Body appropriate For Fat Freezing?

Hifu For Face.

just How Do I reserve a Cosmetic Surgeon assessment?

vaginal tightening.

You should additionally ask to see several of the cosmetic surgeon's recent before and after images from comparable operations they've carried out. It is essential to consult with your picked consultant before treatment to ensure that you are totally comfortable with them and also they understand what you wish to accomplish. All our specialists get on the specialist register of the General Medical Council, as well as numerous are likewise members of the UK's leading cosmetic as well as plastic surgery organizations.

A fixed cost for this treatment might be offered on query and adhering to an initial assessment. Spire Health care can provide you with a single, fixed cost so there are not a surprises.

raising facial With Facial massage Therapy.

They tend to vary by the kind of laceration, number of cells layers treated, the location of the face that is targeted, and their degree of invasiveness. Generally, a facelift is done under basic anaesthetic, although for some surgical treatment such as a mini-facelift local anaesthetic as well as sedation might be made use of. A facelift will bring back meaning to your face, jaw and neckline and ravel deep lines. deals with loosened skin, lines and also creases, lack of muscle tone, and various other indications of ageing by raising your skin, much deeper tissues and also surrounding muscles. The majority of doctors will certainly wrap your face to lower bruising and also swelling. These bandages will certainly stay on for one or two days, and also the stitches will be eliminated after 7 or eight days. Renovations and necklifts are normally lugged under a basic anaesthetic or a local anaesthetic.

The mini lift is the suitable treatment for any individual in their 40s or 50s seeking to turn around the preliminary signs of aging. I have actually checked out and also comprehend Cadogan Facility's Personal privacy NoticeFrom time to time we may wish to keep you current with details, deals as well as promos we really feel will be of passion to you. The procedure is generally integrated with fat transfer to recover lost face volume. Fat is gathered through lipo and afterwards utilized to enhance the cheekbones, cheeks, holy places, eyebrow, chin and also anywhere else where it will certainly boost face balance as well as structure. there is How can I increase my metabolism Kingston upon Thames provides 'mini' or 'mini' facelift methods to our individuals, often in combination with invigorating fat transfer injections to the face.

What are the best lasers for skin tightening?

Now let's have a look at 3 of the best and most effective laser treatments for skin tightening: Fraxel, Titan, and Nlite.Fraxel. The Fraxel laser treatment is mostly used to diminish or eradicate aging skin. Titan. Thinking about a Titan facelift procedure? Nlite.

An US research study that examined YouTube video clips on facial cosmetic surgery has found that most video clips are misleading and not instructional. Ramsay Healthcare UK Workflow Limited will certainly utilize your individual details to provide you with a feedback to your query such as to verify treatment/specialist schedule, a therapy price quotation or scheduling an initial consultation. Information gathered by means of our get in touch with form or telephone numbers presented on this web site might be shown to medical care specialists who provide therapy about which you are checking under strict discretion agreements.

origins and Also meanings Of sayings, Expressions and Also Words.

As a specialist, it helps me get to know my individuals also much better and also develops a bond with them, which isn't feasible with a general anaesthetic. However do not just take my word for it, check out video clips of actual client experiences on the website, our individuals truly are Bella Vou's finest adverts. A Lot Of Bella Vou's patients find the experience relaxing and also trouble-free. We are cautious concerning making certain the location is totally numb, and we talk throughout the treatment to make sure that each individual is positive that they remain in safe hands. Bella Vou incorporates cutting-edge therapy and professional excellence with the high-end, comfort, as well as discretion of a medspa as well as the friendliness of a first-class resort. Bella Vou supplies competitively priced plans of care, without surprise extras.

Which areas Of The Body are Suitable For Fat Freezing?

The Principle ™ Facelift is usually executed under regional anaesthetic, although sedation and also general anaesthesia are likewise offered. It is a day case procedure, so there is no need to remain in the center overnight. The face is carefully numbed to ensure that the procedure is pain-free, as well as Bella Vou's professional personnel will certainly supply assistance, support, and also music to maintain you relax, comfortable, and relaxed throughout the treatment. The Concept ™ Facelift is a cutting-edge brand-new technique developed specifically by Bella Vou.

Amir made me feel completely at ease, I really did not really feel anxious in all. A pleasant however professional team of individuals that made me feel very comfortable at every appointment. I am surprised at the outcomes of my recent therapy with Rohit and can not begin to thank him enough for the difference it's made as well as neither can my hubby. After the procedure, you can loosen up in the comfort of Bella Vou's healing collections. The supportive team will certainly supply you a beverage and also biscuits after surgery as well as discuss your aftercare as well as what to anticipate as you recover. In the Bella Vou theatre, your surgeon will talk with you throughout the treatment.

Your previous medical history will certainly additionally be videotaped (including previous surgical treatment, medicines, allergic reactions etc.) and an assessment of your fitness for surgical procedure. I was petrified yet the nurses place me comfortable as well as everybody made me feel really tranquil.

One of the big advantages of the HIFU Facial is that it's a non-surgical therapy.

... Dealing with both the face as well as neck, it'll also boost your skin's flexibility as well as shapes the face contours.

I had my appointment with Dr Shirin today she has actually suggested having Hydrafacial therapies to enhance the texture as well as thinning of my skin, I have reserved these on her recommendation.

I was extremely happy with the consultation and also fit with Dr Shirin.

She has actually likewise recommended further procedures to provide some fullness to my face as well as enhance deep lines.

By raising and also tightening your skin, it truly can eliminate that dual chin!

It rejuvenates the face in such a way that looks all-natural as well as refreshed as opposed to tight as well as mask-like. It is done under neighborhood anaesthetic, offering a quicker recuperation, decreased bruising, and much less downtime, to ensure that you can move on with your life.

Is Femilift FDA approved?

FemiLift is extremely safe and received FDA approval because it meets the criteria of effectively treating vaginal laxity, with no risk to the patient.

The center is confident in the abilities and expertise of the personnel as well as supplies an advantage service warranty to offer individuals with satisfaction. If there is a problem or difficulty, the customer will certainly be looked after throughout, without any extra costs or fees. The laceration for the Principle ™ Facelift is brief, running from the front of the ear to behind the ear, causing a smaller sized scar and also no loss of hair contrasted to standard strategies. The skin is raised together with a muscular tissue tightening up SMAS lift, to supply natural-looking, resilient outcomes. The Idea ™ Facelift smooths the skin of the cheeks, raises them to their initial placement, and also removes jowls, restoring definition to the jawline.

What does ThermiVa help with?

ThermiVa can be used as a mild female incontinence treatment by tightening and firming the tissues under the bladder, reducing stress-related leaks and urge incontinence. Non-Invasive Sessions – ThermiVa is a completely non-surgical procedure that does not require anesthesia or any recovery period.

Hifu For Face.

Following surgical treatment, your loved ones need to observe that you look well as well as fresh, but it ought to not be immediately evident that you have had a procedure. The Idea ™ Facelift has been created to offer a fresh and also all-natural appearance. This kind of facelift surgical procedure does not result in the very limited, mask-like look that some standard renovations can create. It is also not planned to make individuals look twenty years old once more, but rather to resolve the indications of aging that have made you look worn out or older than your years.

just How Do I reserve a Doctor examination?

vaginal firm.

Please review Spire Medical care's conditions for complete information of what's consisted of as well as left out in your set price when paying for yourself. Finance choices are offered with our partner Omni Resources Retail Financing Ltd, 10 Norwich Street, London, EC4A 1BD. If you choose to have your procedure with us, you will be cared for by an experienced multi-disciplinary treatment group. A more youthful looking face can share vigour as well as power and increase confidence in your social, personal as well as working lives. If you feel that your face no longer reflects your vigor and also you wish to find a solution for it, you might be thinking of obtaining this treatment. Review below to figure out even more consisting of the procedure of the surgical procedure and the recuperation.

Ramsay health centers are signed up with the Care Top Quality Payment, and also are well-equipped with specialist cosmetic surgery resources. Renovations are thought about relatively risk-free, yet as surgical procedures they bring feasible threats that are intrinsic in any procedure. A revision facelift, also called a restorative facelift or secondary facelift, is subsequent facelift surgical treatment after already having had a facelift. Typically, you will have one to two weeks off work as well as three weeks if you have actually also had blepharoplasty surgical treatment. Other extra surgeries are commonly carried out with a facelift, such as blepharoplasty, nose job and also, facial implants to further improve your results. Mini or short-scar facelift includes the MACS lift, s-lift as well as mini lift.

After fulfilling Amir for the first time, I felt that I had made the appropriate choice. The procedure was speedy as well as well-performed, with the help of his wonderful group. I have very little marks, which are recovering perfectly and I never ever had discoloration, by itself a miracle for me. I'm so pleased I chose to go on with my procedure with Bella Vou. My marks are barely noticeable and also the customer care is unbelievable. I've had only praises, and also I really feel a lot more certain.

My finest recommendations would be if you have this treatment, stay calm, relax a little bit after that, even without a basic your body requires a little time to recuperate and enjoy your outcomes I understand I do. brand in the All About Non-Surigcal Pain Free Hampton industry and your group, unique reference too for Will, he was terrific business throughout my op. I would definitely recommend Amir to anyone that wants a cosmetic procedure, my experience at Bella Vou was great and the outcomes were every little thing I expected and also much more. After a facelift, your professional will certainly wish to see how you're doing. We'll organize a follow-up consultation each time that's practical for you. Having had a general anaesthetic, you'll be asleep while the surgeon and clinical group do the surgical treatment. They can advise you of the important things you wish to discuss and also function as an extra pair of ears to absorb details you can talk about together later.

It makes the experience loosened up, worry-free, and also helps develop a close bond in between you and your consultant. Your face will be cleansed, and neighborhood anaesthetic injected to avoid any kind of pain or discomfort.

Is FemTouch covered by insurance?

FemTouch is currently not covered by insurance, however it should be covered by your HSA plan.

These s are much less invasive and also make use of much shorter scars that typically quit at your ear to supply minimal scarring. They are recommended for individuals with a moderate degree of jowling and also sagging skin and also are commonly done on younger women that want a fresher look. There are different kinds of facelifts you can choose from based upon your aesthetic goals, facial composition and your preferences around healing and the risks entailed.

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I posted 155 times in 2021

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I added 90 tags in 2021

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My Top Posts in 2021

#5

I know I have been gone for a while, but I just had to pop on to say how much I love the men on the Raw roster. The stories aren't the best but damn it if they don't have the sexiest men on this brand.

See the full post

53 notes • Posted 2021-02-02 02:18:54 GMT

#4

Don't Be Insecure Girl (Part 2) - Eddie Kingston smut

Warning: smut...duh 😁

*I don't own any of the gifs*

Part 1

Your hands wrap around the base of his neck as your lips attach to his. You moan lightly as Eddie gives your ass a light smack before picking you up by your thighs and lifting you onto the bathroom counter. His hands gently massage your thighs moving from the outside in and closer to his favorite place. He runs his fingertips up and down the inside of your thighs as your breathing gets heavier in the kiss. You pull away just long enough for both of you to watch as his fingers lightly trace your outer lips. You look back up at his face to see how concentrated he is. "Look at me when you play with your favorite pussy." His head snaps up and he nods lightly as his fingers slowly circle your clit. You try your best to stay still as his fingers slide up and down your pussy making you wetter by the second.

"Okay baby, you can slip a finger or two in now but you have to keep eye contact." Eddie bites his lip as his middle and ring fingers slide into you easily due to your wetness. "Babygirl, I need to taste you, please." You give him a kiss before lightly pushing his shoulder down to tell him to go ahead. He maintains eye contact as he flattens his tongue and starts to lick your clit before wrapping his lips around it and starting to suck it. His fingers slowly move in and out of you and he starts to curl them up to hit all the right spots to make his girl feel good. You moan watching the sight of him sucking your clit and fingering you at a frustratingly slow pace. "Oh baby, please make me feel good. Move faster." Eddie winks at you as his tongue makes figure 8s around your clit and his fingers pump faster. Your hand grips his head pushing him closer as your head starts to fall back in pleasure.

"Hey, eyes on me babygirl! You're going to watch me make you cum all over my face. This face is your throne baby, so enjoy the view from up there." He winks and a shiver runs up your spine from the way he spoke to you making your body hyper-aware of his presence. You nod as he locks your legs around his head and his tongue teases your vagina quickly before diving in. His fingers play with your clit as his tongue thrusts in and out of you. You lightly rock your hips front to back as you ride his tongue and your walls grip onto his tongue as your body is overcome with pleasure. "Oh fuck, YES! Eddie you tongue fuck me so good!" He happily collects your wetness on his tongue from the bottom all the way up to your clit before pressing a kiss to it and standing back up. "Thanks for the treat baby, I was quite parched."

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55 notes • Posted 2021-07-29 04:17:14 GMT

#3

Look at Me - Eddie Kingston smut

Reader sends dirty pictures to Eddie knowing he is in a meeting with Tony and CM Punk

Warning: smut and cursing

A hand caresses my cheek and Eddie's lips kiss my forehead as I start to wake up. "Good morning sweetheart, I have a meeting with Punk and Tony here in a bit, so I'm leaving. I'll be back in a couple hours, okay?" I nod and stretch my arms out asking for a quick hug. Eddie smiles and lays down on top of me as I wrap my arms and legs around him. I kiss him and he playfully nibbles on my bottom lip. I sigh in content of having my man in my arms, but quickly pout as he stands to leave. "Be careful babe, I'll be waiting! Love you" He kisses me again and smiles "Love you too hot stuff!" He winks as he leaves our bedroom and soon after I hear the garage open and close as well.

I decide to take a shower and get ready for the day. I wrap a towel around me and head down to the kitchen to find some breakfast. I get a notification for the video of Eddie's promo last night with CM Punk and I decide to watch it as I eat my oatmeal. I take my food to the table and set up my phone to watch the video. I smile watching my man do what he loves and is so damn good at. Seeing the fire and passion in his eyes always gets to me as those same eyes can destroy me with one wink. My legs automatically squeeze together as I hear him say "Answer me when I'm talking to you." I bite my lip and continue watching the promo. His face at the end when he stuck his tongue out and stared Punk down sent me to another level of thirst.

I look down at my towel and smirk getting an idea. I make sure my cleavage is showing as I take a picture of me eating my oatmeal and send it to Eddie. "Have a good meeting babe. See you when you get home😘" He responds a few minutes later, "Just going in now, see you soon sugar tits! 😜" I smirked as I untied the towel before pushing them higher and letting the towel cover my nipples before snapping another picture. "I just finished rewatching your promo from last night." He responds quickly "Don't you dare go any further." I smile and put my empty bowl in the sink before setting my phone up to take a picture of me bending over with the fridge door open and the towel letting my butt cheeks peek out. "I'm just looking for something to quench my thirst. I have no idea what you are talking about." Eddie sends me a picture of the outline of his cock showing through the grey sweatpants he was wearing. "Seriously? I'm in a meeting. Stop!"

Eddie's POV

Here I am trying to focus on Tony telling Punk and I the plan for Full Gear and my girl is sending me pictures that are making it impossible to hide my hard cock. I shove my phone into my pocket after taking a picture of what she has done to me. I try my best to focus on Tony, but she keeps texting me and my phone is now vibrating right next to my dick. Punk looks at me a bit concerned "Eddie are you okay over there? We can tweak some stuff if you don't feel comfortable with it." I sit back and try to hide my blush as I laugh "Nah man, I'm good just trying to visualize it in my head to see what else we could add to make it better." He nods back and turns back to Tony who soon enough ends the meeting and sends us on our way.

I was planning on working out, but it seems like Y/N has a different kind of working out in mind and she is definitely going to pay for what she has done. I pull out my phone and see 3 more pictures from her. One where she is bent all the way over showing her wet pussy to the camera. Another where she has put on blue lingerie and posed in front of the mirror. The final picture is of her eating a banana. I don't respond and instead decide to drive straight home.

Y/N's POV

I smile to myself looking at his hard cock ready for me and take another picture before getting dressed in some blue lingerie and curling my hair. I take another picture in the mirror and then go grab a banana to finish off my breakfast. Eddie has stopped responding, so I assume he is really involved in the meeting or on his way to workout now. I sit down on the couch and watch TV until I hear the garage open. I didn't expect him to come home, so I had a feeling I was in for it. But let's be honest, that's exactly what I wanted. I pretend not to hear the door open and continue watching TV.

"Y/N! Where the fuck are you?" I bite my lip to stop from laughing but a giggle comes out anyways. He comes into the living room and turns off the TV standing directly in front of me. I look at my phone and smile. "Right on time babe!" His face says it all as he stares down at me. "What the hell were you thinking?" I roll my eyes and look away from him. His voice gets louder and raspier "Look at me! Answer me when I'm talking to you!" I look him in the eye and tilt my head slightly while squeezing my legs together again to get some sort of friction "Well I was bored and I wanted you to come home." He scoffs "So you are just being a brat huh?" I shrug my shoulders and give him puppy dog eyes "I just wanted to have my Eddie bear back." He steps back "Oh no no no sweetheart...we both know you are far from innocent, so don't try that shit on me doll."

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63 notes • Posted 2021-11-06 23:15:39 GMT

#2

Don't Be Insecure Girl - Eddie Kingston

Warning: dirty talk and light smut (full smut if part 2 is requested 😜)

Prompt: Plus size reader is insecure about her body. Eddie Kingston makes it his mission to make her feel loved and beautiful in her own skin.

Looking up at the stepmill in front of you, a deep breath exits your body before you climb onto it and start your least favorite part of your workout. After 15 minutes of pain and struggle, you step down from the stepmill and chug water to replenish from the sweat dripping off your body. Once you have completed the rest of your workout, you grab your bag and head to your car and drive home.

Parking the car, you greet your dogs as you open the door and let them outside as you hear your boyfriend talking on the phone in the living room. Walking over to him, you smile as you see him face timing Moxley as they discuss their newest promo ideas. Giving him a peck on the cheek, you wave hi to Jon before letting the dogs back inside. Eddie and Jon say their goodbyes and hang up as you feed the dogs. Eddie walks into the kitchen and smiles as he takes in your appearance. Leggings caressing every curve of your legs and butt and the tank top your wore showing heavy sweat spots. Your hair was up in a bun that had loosened throughout the workout and your face was still a bit pink as your body returns to normal.

"So gorgeous, how was your workout?" You shrug your shoulders, "Meh...the damn stepmill is going to be the death of me though." He chuckles as he grabs your chin and lifts it so he can properly kiss you. As he pulls away from the kiss he whispered, "I'm proud of you babygirl." You blush at the nickname like you have for the past 7 months, but he can see the hesitation to smile in your face. "What's wrong baby?" You shake your head and turn around to grab your water bottle to take a sip. "It's nothing Eddie." He puts his hands on his hips and gives you a sassy look.

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67 notes • Posted 2021-07-28 03:18:32 GMT

#1

"Fuck me right?" Eddie Kingston angsty smut

Prompt: Eddie gets cocky mid fight with reader, which leads to rough angry sex

Warning: Smut, cursing 🤷‍♀️

Once again, you have come home from work to find cabinets open, dirty dishes on the counter, and milk left out on the counter. You sigh before heading to the living room where you find Eddie and Jon watching one of their matches brainstorming ways to improve and shake things up a bit on the mic. You lean against the wall with your arms crossed over your chest and decide to get their attention. "Eddie! Can I have a word with you?" He rolls his eyes and responds "Babe, I'm working right now. Can it wait?" You scoff and put your hands on your hips. "You're watching your own match for the third time already. We need to talk...now." You growl as you turn around and storm off to the kitchen. Jon grabs his stuff and Eddie looks at him with pleading eyes silently asking for him to stay. "The sooner you talk the better it will be. Good luck bud!" He walks to the front door and waves at you as you wave back to say goodbye.

Eddie sighs and drags his feet as he slowly makes his way to you and smiles sarcastically "Yes, my darling peach?" You roll your eyes and turn around as you open your arms to gesture to the mess of a kitchen he has made. "Care to comment?" Eddie scoffs before looking at the ceiling and shrugging his shoulders, "I guess the ceiling could use a new coat of paint?" The smirk on his face is getting under your skin and he knows it. "No Jackass! Look at the mess you made in here!" He looks around waving his hands mockingly, "It's not so bad in here, just a few decor changes." You take a step back, "Decor changes? You mean ways to make the kitchen look like a sloppy teenage boy lives here." He closes the cabinets and looks at you with a shit eating grin, "Better now sweetheart?"

You throw your hands in the air, "Are you fucking kidding me Eddie? The cabinets? The dishes? The milk for fucks sake!" He puts his hands out in front of him and takes a step back smirking. "You know what? You're right Y/N. I'm an asshole... and I have no right to even use my own kitchen as I please."

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80 notes • Posted 2021-08-07 05:35:08 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[miamirealestatemagazine]

How Miami Residential Properties Are Marrying Nightlife & Health

How Miami's buzziest residential developments are marrying the city's hot nightlife with the growing need for holistic health.

The master bedrooms in 57 Ocean will provide guests with their own private sanctuary.

Miami is all about sun, sea and, to be totally candid, self-indulgence. So perhaps it’s no coincidence real estate developers are building stunning wellness-minded condos on Millionaires’ Row and the pricey Fort Lauderdale coast. Complete with sprawling spas and stunning views, they could well entice you to spend the entire day in your bathrobe and never leave home.

After a quick elevator ride down to the spa, imagine freezing off 500 calories in three minutes during a cryotherapy session followed by floating in a salt bath with 1,000 pounds of Epsom salts. And that’s just for openers at Carillon Miami, a condo-hotel-spa—formerly Canyon Ranch—and now the ultimate wellness retreat. Spa Director Tammy Pahel has brought in every bell, whistle and 21st-century widget to this 70,000-square-foot spa, which features 171 classes— even a surfboard workout—as well as a renowned plastic surgeon and a team practicing Oriental medicine, and just recently has introduced NAD IVs delivering a compound deep within our cells that aids in energy transfer and helps regulate how our cells age. But the highlight, formed by an exclusive partnership with Italian spa equipment firm Lemi, is the introduction of the Aemotio, a multifaceted heated water pillow-topped massage table with 98-degree water that will descend from an arm above—accompanied by music, of course—and rinse off your body to the sequence of the renowned Las Vegas Bellagio fountain.

The 20,000-plus-square-foot Spa at Auberge Beach offers a salt cave, an infrared sauna and fire pit coupled with unique treatments like the Quartz Sand, Sound & CBD Body Wrap to help you achieve ultimate relaxation.

Twenty or so miles to the north, and brand-new on the condo-spa scene, is Auberge Beach Residences & Spa Fort Lauderdale, which was developed by the Related Group.

Designers Will Meyer and Gray Davis took on the entire project and explained their goal: “Right from the lobby encased in glass, the space had to be elegant and comfy,” adding, “We created an unfussy home base next to the water so stress melts away.” The en-suite spa is one reason almost all of the 171 apartments have been sold, with wellness offerings chosen by Spa Director Linda Higgs. Included in over 20,000 square feet of spa space are a salt cave, infrared sauna and fire pit—for toasting marshmallows, maybe? But the most unique offering may be its Quartz Sand, Sound & CBD Body Wrap treatment, where after exfoliation the body is wrapped in a warm cocoon of CBD oils. And trust us when we say that just because it can’t get you high, it doesn’t mean it’s not transporting.

57 Ocean’s master bathroom will be lined in floor-to-ceiling stone and outfitted with floating tubs, sliding glass doors and vanities by Poliform.

Still under construction, 57 Ocean, an ultra-luxury wellness-inspired oceanfront condominium on Miami Beach, is scheduled to open in 2021. With only 81 residences—each with a hypnotically mesmerizing ocean view from 12-foot-deep balconies—this boutique hotel is a flagship property from Brazilian real estate titan Jose Isaac Peres of Multiplan Real Estate Asset Management. Marcelo Kingston, the managing partner charged with this condo creation, explains that the wellness atmosphere will have a decidedly Brazilian feel. “You will connect to nature right from the lobby and on through the building as if you are departing from the city into an oasis with one single elevation so you see the ocean immediately through the door,” he says. In 4,000 square feet of spa space, open only to condo owners, the emphasis is on both the indoor and outdoor spaces and will include exclusive outdoor fitness equipment from MyEquilibria on the sunset terrace deck, two infinity pools, a multitude of green spaces and every spa amenity one can fantasize about.

So if you’re tired of the real world—and sometimes we are—think of these delicious and expensive cocoons as the only time when you can truly say, “It’s all about me.”